PUBLICATIONS
OF THE
MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION
OF
AMERICA
EDITED BY
CHARLES H. GRANDGENT
SECRETARY OF THE ASSOCIATION
VOL. XX
NEW SERIES. VOL. XIII
PUBLISHED QUABTERLY BY THE ASSOCIATION
PBINTED BY J. H. FUBST COMPANY
BALTIMORE
1905
CONTENTS.
PAGE.
I. — Object-Pronouns in Dependent Clauses: A Study in Old
Spanish Word-Order. By WINTHROP HOLT CHENEBY, 1
II. — Tydorel and Sir Gowther. By FLORENCE LEFTWICH RAV-
ENEL, 152
III. — Gower's Use of the Enlarged Roman de Troie. By GEORGE
L. HAMILTON, -.-.--.- 179
IV. — "To Bite the Dust" and Symbolic Lay Communion. By
J. D. M. FORD, - - 197
V.— The Bound Table. By LEWIS F. MOTT, - - - 231
VI. — Parke Godwin and the Translation of Zschokke's Tales.
By JOHN PRESTON HOSKINS. ..... 265
VII. — The Detection of Personality in Literature. By S. GRIS-
WOLD MORLEY, ----.--- 305
VIII.— Sources of the Lay of Yonec. By OLIVER M. JOHNSTON, 322
IX. — Romance Etymologies. By CARL C. RICE, ... 339
X. — Some Observations upon the Squire's Tale. By H. S. V.
JONES, 346
XI. — Repetition and Parallelism in the Earlier Elizabethan
Drama. By F. G. HUBBARD, 360
XII. — Unpublished Manuscripts of Italian Bestiaries. By KEN-
NETH McKENZiE, 380
XIII. — The Syntax of Antoine de la Sale. By WILLIAM PIERCE
SHEPARD, 435
XTV. — Pakemon and Arcyte, Progne, Marcus Geminus, and the
Theatre in which they were acted, as described by
John Bereblock (1566). By W. Y. DTTRAND, - - 502
XV. — The Hermit and the Saint. By GORDON HALL GEROULD, 529
XVI.— Vondel's Value as a Tragic Poet. By F. C. L. VAN
STEENDEREN, 546
XVII.— Antoine Heroet'sPar/aite^wiye. By W. A. R. KERR, - 567
XVIII. — The Relation of the Heroic Play to the Romances of
Beaumont and Fletcher. By JAMES W. TUPPER, - 584
XIX. — Doubts Concerning the British History attributed to
Nennius. By WILLIAM WELLS NEWELL, - 622
XX.— The Knight of the Lion. By ARTHUR C. L. BROWN, - 673
XXI. — The Scansion of Prose Rhythm. By FRED NEWTON
SCOTT, 707
XXII.— Thomas Kyd and the Ur-Hamlet. By ALBERT E. JACK, 729
XXIII. — The Prologue to the Legend of Good Women considered
in its Chronological Relations. By JOHN LIVINGSTON
LOWES, 749
IV CONTENTS.
APPENDIX.
PAGE.
Proceedings of the Twenty-second Annual Meeting of the Modern
Language Association of America, held at Brown University,
Providence, R. I. , and at Northwestern University, Chicago,
111., December 28, 29, 30, 1904.
THE ASSOCIATION MEETING.
Address of Welcome. By President W. H. P. FAUNCE, - - iii^
Report of the Secretary, -------- iii
Eeport of the Treasurer, iv
Appointment of Committees, ------- vi
1. The General Condition of Libraries in Spanish America.
By RUDOLPH SCHWILL, vi
2. The Farce of Pathelin. By EICHAKD THAYER HOLBROOK, vi
3. Wyntoun and the Morte Arthure. By PRENTISS C. HOYT, vi
4. The Source of Crestien's Yvain in the Light of the Names
Laudine and Lunete. By WILLIAM ALBERT NITZE, - vii
5. Unpublished Manuscripts of Italian Bestiaries. By KEN-
NETH MCKENZIE, - vii
The Address of the President of the Association :
" Vengeance is Mine ! " By GEORGE LYMAN KITTREDGE, viii
Eeport of Committee on International Correspondence, - - viii
6. The J&chylian Element in Mrs. Browning. By CURTIS
CLARK BTJSHNELL, ix
7. The Question of the Vernacular. By JAMES WILSON
BRIGHT, --.--.-.. ix
8. The Bound Table. By LEWIS F. MOTT, - - - - ix
9. CleomadZs and the Squire? s Tale. By H. S. V. JONES, x
10. Goethe's Love Affairs in His Life and His Poems. By
CHARLES HARRIS, ------- x
11. The Eed and White Rose : a New Source of Richard the
Third. By HAROLD DEWOLF FOWLER, - - - xi
12. The Motif of Young Waters. By WILLIAM WISTAR COM-
FORT, ---------- xi
13. Longfellow's "Lapland Song." By HENRY SCHOFIELD, xi
CONTENTS. V
14. The Pronunciation of cA. By FREEMAN M. JOSSELYN, JR., xi
15. A Universal Phonetic Alphabet. By JAMES GEDDES, JR., xi
Report of Joint Committee on the subject of a Phonetic English
Alphabet, ------- '••• '. xii
Report of Auditing Committee, ------- xii
Report of Nominating Committee, - - '-' ' "- ••• ± . xjj{
Report of Committee on Place of Meeting, xiii
16. A Museum-Gallery for the Study of the Drama. By
BRANDER MATTHEWS, xiii
17. The Horse in the Popular Epic. By MURRAY A. POTTER, xiv
18. The Scansion of Prose Rhythm. By F. N. SCOTT, - - xiv
19. The Detection of Personality in Literature. By SYLVANUS
GRISWOLD MORLEY, xiv
20. The Hermit and the Saint. By GORDON HALL GEROULD, xv
21. Some Features of Style in Narrative French Poetry (1150-
70). By FREDERICK MORRIS WARREN, - xv
22. The Prologue to the Legend of Good Women, as related to '
the French Marguerite Poems and to the Filostrato.
By JOHN LIVINGSTON LOWES, xvi
23. The Comparative Study of Words in Foreign Languages.
By WILLIS ARDEN CHAMBERLIN, - ... Xvi
Papers read by Title, xvi
THE CENTRAL DIVISION MEETING.
Address of Welcome. By Professor JOHN HENRY WIGMORE, - xviii
Address of the Chairman of the Division :
The Teaching of the History of a Foreign Literature. By
A. R. HOHLFELD, ---.... xviii
Report of the Secretary, -------- xviii
Appointment of Committees, - - - - - - • _, ' xix
1. Sir Iwain and Folk-Tales of Helpful Animals. By ARTHUR
C. L. BROWN, -------- xix
2. The Teaching of Modern Languages in the American High
School. By A. RAMBEAU, xix
3. Chateaubriand's Relation to Italian Writers. By B. L.
BOWEN, ---.--.._ T-r
4. The Relation of Addison to La Bruy&re. By EDWARD
CHAUNCEY BALDWIN, xx
VI CONTENTS.
5. Folk-Song in Missouri. By HENRY MARVIN BELDEN, -
6. GustavFrenssen's Attitude to ward Education. By WARREN
WASHBURN FLORER, - - - - - - -
Beport of the Joint Committee on the Subject of a Phonetic
English Alphabet, - - - - - - -
Departmental Meetings : —
Eomance Languages, - - - - - - - -
Germanic Languages, -------- xxiii
English, - xxiii
7. Mira de Amescua's El Esclaw del Demonic. By MILTON A.
BUCHANAN, ---.__._ xxiv
8. Doublets in English. By EDWARD A. ALLEN, - xxiv
9. The use or omission of doss in subordinate clauses. By
GEORGE O. CURME, xxiv
10. Vondel's Value as a Dramatist. By FREDERIC C. L. VAN
STEENDEREN, --.--_._ xxiv
11. The Sources of the Barbier de Seville. By FLORENCE N.
JONES, xxv
12. Dtirfen and its Cognates. By FRANCIS ASBURY WOOD, - xxv
13. Grillparzer and Shakespeare. By CHILES CLIFTON FER-
RELL, -- .._ xxv
.Reports of Committees, xxvi
14. Notes on Nature in Hugo's Earlier Works. By ARTHUR G.
CANFIELD, xxvii
15. Eepetition and Parallelism in the Earlier Elizabethan
Drama. By FRANK G. HUBBARD, - ... xxvii
16. On the Dialect of the Auchinleck and the Caius MS. of Guy
of Warwick. By HENRY C. PENN, - xxviii
17. The Gothic Eevival in England and Germany. By CAMILLO
VON KLENZE, xxviii
18. Rhyme Peculiarities in the Divina Comedia. By A. DE
SALVIO, --------- xxviii
19. The Relation of Der bestrafte Brudermord to Shakespeare's
Hamlet. By M. BLAKEMORE EVANS, - xxviii
20. Antwort Michel Styfels vff Doctor Thomas Murnars mur-
narrische phantasey, (so er wider yn erdichtet hat.)
1523. By ERNST Voss, - - - - - - xxix
List of Officers, -- xxx
CONTENTS. Vll
The Chairman's Address :
The Teaching of the History of a Foreign Literature.
With a Long Introduction justifying the Choice of the
Subject. By A. R. HOHLFELD, ----- xxxi
The Constitution of the Association, ------ Ivi
List of Members, -.----... Lx
List of Subscribing Libraries, - - - - - - - xci
Honorary Members, --------- xciv
Boll of Members deceased, ---.... xcv
PUBLICATIONS
OF THE
Modern Language Association of America
19O5.
VOL. XX, 1. NEW SERIES, VOL. XIII, 1.
I.— OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN DEPENDENT CLAUSES :
A STUDY IN OLD SPANISH WORD-ORDER.
INTRODUCTION.
I. DEFINITION OP TITLE.
The title of this work, Object-Pronouns in Dependent
Clauses: A Study in Old Spanish Word-Order, is perhaps too
inclusive. The investigation concerns itself only with the
phenomenon which I shall call interpolation. Throughout
this study, interpolation will be used to mean the interpola-
tion, between an unstressed object-pronoun and its following
governing verb, of another word or other words, not unstressed
object-pronouns in similar construction. In Old Spanish this
phenomenon is almost without exception confined to dependent
clauses, i. e., clauses that begin with a subordinating con-
junction, a relative pronoun, or a relative adverb with
conjunctional force.
1
WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
II. PREVIOUS NOTICES OF INTERPOLATION.
Interpolation is merely mentioned by Diez, but with no
attempt to determine the conditions of its occurrence.1 I
find the next reference in Reinhardstoettner's Grammatik
der portugiesischen Sprache (1878), s. 391.2 Paul Foerster,
in his Spanische Sprachlehre (1880) merely distinguishes in-
terpolation as of two sorts, the first with then egative particle,
the second with other words.3 R. Thurneysen (Zeitschrift f.
rom. Phil., xvi (1892), ss. 289-307, Zur Stellung des Ver-
bums im Altfranzosischeri) discusses the position of unstressed
words and seeks to prove that the latter tend to become
enclitic to the first stressed word of the sentence or clause.
Incidentally he mentions interpolation in Old Spanish and
Portuguese and raises the question whether the cases of it
.are archaisms or innovations.4 Emil Gessner (Zeitschr.,
xvii (1893), ss. 1—54, Das spanische Personalpronomen)
briefly notices the phenomenon without, however, defining
the syntactical conditions of its occurrence. His notice is
chiefly valuable for its chronological data with regard to the
disappearance of interpolation in Spanish.5 S. Grafenberg
(Rom. Forsch., vii (1893), s. 547) in the grammatical notes
1 Trennung vom Verbum kommt nur in Asp. und iiberhaupt im Pg. vor.
Grammatik, in4, s. 467.
aVor allem war die Stellung der Pronomina eine bei weilem freiere.
Trennung des verbundenen Personalpronomens von seinem Verbum ist
nicht selten z. B. Todo o mal que te eu fazia.
3 Lib. tit., s. 294, § 403: Stellung des Pronomen conjunctum : 1)
Unmittelbar vor dem Verbum ; die Negation vor dem Pronomen, altsp.
aber auch zwiscben Pron. und Verbum. 2) Im Altsp. auch getrennt :
se lo tu mandasses. . . .
*Loc. tit., s. 302: Ueber Ausnahmen im Asp. u. Pg. s. Diez. Sind es
alte Erbstiicke oder Neuerungen ?
5 Loc. tit. , s. 34 : Das Gesetz, dass die tonlosen Pronominalobjekte in
unmittelbarer Verbindung mit dem Verb, stehen miissen, gilt auch fur die
span. Sprache in ihrer gegenwiirtigen Gestalt. Friiher war sie daran
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 3
to his edition of Don Juan Manuel's Libro del Cavallero et
del Escudero mentions the postposition of the particle non to
the object-pronoun but does not notice any other variety of
interpolation.1
Meyer-Lubke (Zeitschr.f. rom. Ph., xxi (1897), ss. 313-
334, Zur Stellung der tonlosen Objektspronomina im Ro-
manischeri) maintains with Thurneysen that unstressed ob-
ject-pronouns were originally always enclitic and considers
interpolation in Old Spanish and Portuguese to be a survival
of Latin usage. He also attempts to define the syntactical
categories in which interpolation usually occurs.2 In the
nicht gebunden, sondern schob unbedenklich die verschiedensten Satzteile
(Subjekt, Objekt, Vokativ, Negation , Ad verbialbesimmung [sic], praposi-
tionelle Kasus) zwischen Pron. und Zeitwort, wenn letzteres nachfolgte.
Diese altspan. keineswegs ungewohnliche, in einzelnen Denkmalen fast
mit Vorliebe gewahlte Vorstellung erhalt sich bis tief in das 15. Jahrh.
hinein ; mit dem 16. aber verschwindet sie. Wenigstens babe ich sie in
den von mir benutzten Quellen aus dieser Zeit nicht mehr beobachtet ; die
Cdestina hat keinen Fall der Trennung mehr ; sehr stark vertreten jedoch
ist sie noch im Amadis, der auch in diesem Punkte wieder seine oben
erwiihnte Eigentiimlichkeit bekundet.
1Die Negation non steht im Nsp. vor dem personlichen Fiirwort, im
Asp. oft hinter ihm.
2Loc. cit., ss. 314-5: Beach tenswert ist, was Gessner nicht erwahnt [?],
dass, wenn dem Verbum zwei Worter vorausgehen, das Pronomen im asp.
Alexander zum ersten, also nicht unmittelbar vor das Verbum treten kann.
. . . Daneben findet sich aber die iibliche Stellung ebenso oft. . . . Wenn
also der Alexander wirklich von Berceo herstammt, so scheint in der bisher
veroffentlichten Hs. auch die Wortfiigung umgestaltet worden zu sein, wofiir
man Fijo vos yo vos bendigo 172a anfiihren konnte. Das zu untersuchen und
iiberhaupt das Verhaltniss der beiden Stellungen darzulegen wird die
Aufgabe des kiinftigen Herausgebers des Alexanders sein.
Ss. 315 ft". : Fiir die alte [portugiesische] Sprache kann man kurzweg sagen:
Das Objektspronomen folgt dem ersten Worte des Satzes, e und mas zahlen
dabei nicht als selbstandige Worter. . . . Der Satz beginnt mit einer Konj.
oder einem B>elativum, dann folgen Subjekt und Verbum, das Pronomen
steht vor dem Subjekt. . . Zwischen der den satzeinleitenden [sic] Partikel
oder dem Subjekt und dem Verbum steht ein Adverbium nd, tanto, assim,
u. dgl., das Pron. tritt vor dieses Adv. . . . Mit einer offenbaren Stoning
der urspriinglichen Ordnung haben wir es zu thun in Fallen wie asi Deus
4 WINTHEOP HOLT CHENERY.
Grammatik der romanisehen Sprachen, in, s. 764, § 715,
Meyer-Liibke sums up the argument of the Zeitschrift article
but omits all reference to the syntactical categories.1
me . . ., se Deus me, que Deus nom a . . .,pois eu votto. . . . Die Beispiele
bleiben aber trotzdem bei weitem in der Minderzahl und scheinen sich auf
bestimmte Falle zu beschranken, so haben wir fast stets Deus oder eine
Personalbezeichnung oder ein Personalpronomen, das nun das Objektspro-
nomen von der einleitenden Konj. weg und nach sich zieht.
Ss. 318-9 : Es ware ein interessantes Unternehmen, nachzuweisen wie viel
von den alten Regeln bis heute geblieben ist, die Ausnahmen in alter Zeit zu-
sammenzustellen und zu erklaren, die allmahliche Umgestaltung zu verfol-
gen. . . . Auch die altportugiesische Orthographic verdient eine sorgfaltige
Beachtung. Wenn geschrieben wird eute leixeyja, eu cuidava quete avia leixado,
efoiperalhe chagar, wozu man noch die oben stets nach der Vorlage gedruckten
Beispiele nehme, so kann das doch nicht Zufall sein, sondern zeigt deut-
lich, dass fiir das alte Sprachgefiihl die Pronomina Enklitika waren.
Wenn neben unzahligen derartigen Schreibungen nun auch gelegentlich
vorkommt como olevarom, que oposerom, so wird man diesen Ausnahmen
kaum Bedeutung beilegen.
Das Grundprinzip, das fiir die Stellung der tonlosen Objekts-pronomina
im.Portugiesischen massgebend ist, ist offenbar das folgende : Die Pro-
nomina sind enklitisch, sie werden an ein schon ausgesprochenes Wort
angehangt und zwar womoglich an das erste des Satzes. Lasst sich
quero te comprir Rom. ix, 442 aus einer Abneigung gegen tonlose Worter im
Satzanfange erklaren, so ist damit doch noch nicht gesagt, weshalb es nicht
heisst quero comprirte. Und wollte man sich mit der Annahme behelfen, dass
das Pronomen sich proklitisch mit dem Verbum, zu dem es Objekt sei, ver-
binde, daher man sage quero te-comprir wie que te-leixey, so wiirde dagegen
nicht nur die alte Schreibweise Einsprache erheben, sondern es blieben die
Mehrzahl der oben angefiihrten Satze, wie que te eu . . ., que o n3 . . . u. s.
w. vollig unerklart. Formuliert man dagegen die Regel so, wie es eben
geschehen ist, so losen sich sofort alle Schwierigkeiten. Die Sache scheint
mir so in die Augen springend zu sein und sich so unmittelbar aus dem alten
Sprachgebrauche und aus dem alten Schreibgebrauche zu ergeben, dass
viele Worte gar nicht mehr notig sind. Dass auch ein Teil des span.
Sprachgebietes dieselben Eegeln befolgt, ergiebt sich aus den s. 314 aus
dem Alexander angefiihrten Stellen. . . .
1 Grammatik, m, s. 764, § 715 : Im Gegensatz zu den bisher ge-
nannten Wortern sind die Objektspronomina, zu denen natiirlich auch die
Adverbien ibi und inde gerechnet werden konnen, urspriinglich enklitisch.
Ist das Objekt eines Verbums in vorhergegangener Rede schon genannt,
so ist es nicht immer notig, es zu wiederholen, kann es ja doch unter
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 5
I have found only one reference to interpolation from a
Peninsular source. This is in Rodriguez's Apuntes Gramati-
caks in the edition of the Galician Cronica Troyana.1 With
this conclude all the notices of interpolation that I have been
able to discover.
III. OUTLINE OF INVESTIGATION.
The investigation concerns itself, as has been stated, with
the history of interpolation in Spanish texts. The theory
Umstanden den Sprechenden noch so lebendig vor Augen stehen, dass eine
andere Beziehung des Verbums ausgeschlossen 1st. Es kann aber auch der
Deutlichkeit wegen darauf zuriickgewiesen werden mit einem, eben des
unselbstiindigen Begriffs wegen tonlosen Worte, einem Worte, das seine
Stellung moglichst weit vorne ira Satze hat, da es die Verbindung mit dem
Voraufgegangenen festhalten soil. So sagt man im Lateinischen dmo te
nicht te dmo, per te deos obsecro, quo tu me modo voles esse u. s. w. Am
besten hat sich diese lateinische Stellung im Altspanischen und im Alt-
portugiesischen erhalten, iibrigens dort in geringerem Umfange als hier,
sofern niitnlich z. B. bei Berceo fast keine Spuren ausser den gemeinroman-
ischen zu finden sind, wohl aber der Cid, der Alexander, D. Juan Manuel
u. a. viele Beispiele zeigen, in spiiterer Zeit auch noch der Amadis, wo man
allerdings an den Einfluss des portugiesischen Originals denken konnte.
Man sagt also aspan. en guisa que la non pierda. . . . Ausgepriigter noch ist
also die Enklise im Altportugiesischen : lo filho que Ihes Deus dara. . . .
Neigungen, das Pronomen mit dem Verbum zu verbinden, fehlen nun
allerdings auch hier nicht, vgl. asi Deus me conselhe . . ., namentlich bei
pronominalem Subjekte : que eu a descobro, . . . u. a. Aber diese Falle
sind doch bedeutend in der Minderheit, und wenn das Portugiesische in
seiner historischen Entwickelung allmilhlich einen Wandel durchgemacht
hat, der in den Schwestersprachen schon vor Beginn der Litteratur fast
abgeschlossen war, so ist doch bis heute die alte Stellung namentlich in
negierten (jwe-Satzen oder in mit e, ja beginnenden geblieben, ohne freilich
Regel zu sein, vgl. os dous irmaos nao se aehavam . . . neben uma lucta que o
nao deixou repousar.
1 Loc. cit., p. 44 : Si intervienen dos 6 mas palabras, y entre ellas algun
adverbio negative, las primeras inician la frase, a continuation todas las
particulas pronominales por orden de preferencia, colocando los negatives
inmediatamente antes del verbo, v. g. : Que os nd podo acadar, Nenfoy home
quella nunca oysse dizer, etc.
6 WINTHROP HOLT CHENEEY.
of the subject will be discussed, as far as it seems practicable
to do so, in a briefer Second Part, following the historical
exposition.
Preceding the First Part and forming the last division
of this Introduction, there is a List of Texts in which are
discussed all questions of date, authorship, manuscripts, edi-
tions and dialect, these matters being excluded from the
main body of the article. The works described in the
List of Texts are arranged according to the approximate
date of composition. Galician and Portuguese texts are
arranged chronologically after the Spanish texts. The
numbering adopted in the List of Texts is followed also in
the Appendix.
The First Part of the present work aims to cover the
history of interpolation in Spanish writings of the xiu, xiv,
and xv centuries, studying the rise, development and decay
of the phenomenon. Galician and Portuguese texts are
studied only as they throw light on the subject of interpo-
lation in Castilian. The large body of illustrative material
which accompanies the First Part is relegated to an Appendix.
The arrangement of the latter is explained in a note prefixed
to Chapter I.
The discussion in the first four chapters of Part One of
interpolation in the texts will attempt to show that it is a
phenomenon hardly appearing in Castilian texts before the
latter part of the xiu century and then probably due to
western influence. It will be shown, also, that it is most
prevalent in works of the courtly school of Alfonso X. and
his successors and least frequent in works farthest removed
from the influence of that school. The syntactical condi-
tions of its occurrence in Castilian are differentiated from
those in Galician and Portuguese, and the periods of its
decline and disappearance are fixed as closely as possible.
The Second Part begins with a critical discussion of the
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 7
theory of primitive enclisis of pronoun objects in Romance
as developed by Thurneysen and Meyer-Liibke. Then
follows a section dealing with Portuguese word order and
making it appear probable that enclisis of the pronoun to
other words than the verb is a phenomenon peculiar to the
western portion of the Iberian Peninsula and not a relic
of universal Vulgar Latin usage. A third division attempts
to prove that in Castilian there is no enclisis of the pronoun
in interpolation and that the phenomenon is merely one
of word order, influenced by analogies of certain frequent
collocations.
LIST OF SPANISH, GALICIAN, AND PORTUGUESE
TEXTS, EXAMINED FOR INTERPOLATION,
WITH NOTICES OF CHRONOLOGY AND DIA-
LECT OF AUTHORS AND MANUSCRIPTS.
1. Poema del Cid. Edici6n anotada por Ram6n Mene'ndez
Pidal. Madrid: 1900. (No name of publisher.)
Diplomatic edition from the unique manuscript in posses-
sion of D. Alejandro Pidal y Mon. The manuscript is of
the xiv century and was probably written in 1307.1
The poem goes back perhaps as far as 1139, and is at
least as old as the middle of the xn century.2
From internal evidence it seems probable that the original
author of the Poema del Cid lived not far from Castej6n on
the Ebro, that is, in the borderland between Arag6n and
Old Castile, which was also the home of Berceo.3
2. Vida de Santa Maria Egipciaca. Florencio Janer, Edr.
Poetas Castellanos anteriores al siglo xv (Biblioteca de Autores
Espanoles de M. Eivadeneyra, t. 57) , pags. 307-318.
'Mene'ndez Pidal, Lib. cit., p. iii ; Baist, Grundr. d. r. Ph., II Bd., 2.
Abt., s. 397 u. Anmerk.
2 Baist, Grundr., n, 2, s. 396.
8 Fitzmaurice-Kelly, Hist, of Span. Lit., p. 51 ; Eestori, Le Gesta del Old,
p. 6.
8 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
First published by D. Pedro Jos6 Pidal, in 1841, from a
manuscript in the Escorial, written in character of the XV
century.1 A Spanish translation of the Vie de Sainte-Marie
PEgyptienne found with the Carmina Anglo- Normannica of
Robert Grosseteste, Bishop of Lincoln.2
Baist believes the Spanish translation to be a work of the
xni century.3 Amador de los Rios ascribed the poem to
the first half of the xn century. His arguments are refuted
by Gorra.4
The reprint of Pidal's text in the Rivadeneyra collection,
edited by Janer, is intended to be diplomatic. Janer col-
lated the Pidal text with the codex and corrected many of
the errors of the former.
The language of the poem, as transmitted, is very similar
to that of Berceo. I have noticed nothing that would point
to Aragonese or other dialects than that of Old Castile.
3. Libre de Apollonio. Florencio Janer, Edr. Poetas Cast,
ant. al s. xv (Bibl. deAut. Esp., t. 57), pags. 283-305.
Edited from a manuscript preserved in the Escorial. The
same manuscript contains also the Vida de Santa Maria
Egipdaca. It is considered by some (Introd., pag. xxxvi)
to be of the xiv or beginning of the xv century. Baist
(Grundr., n, 2, s. 404) speaks of the manuscript as of the
end of the xni century.
The poem probably belongs to the first half of the xni
century, and is thus the work of a contemporary of Berceo.5
Traits of Aragonese dialect in the text Baist attributes to the
copyist.6
1 Poetas Cast. ant. al sig. xv, pag. xxxvi.
2 The sources are treated by Mussafia, Ueber die Quelle der altspan. Vida
de S. Maria Egipdaca. Wien, Hof- u. Staatsdruckerei, 1863.
3 Grundr., n, 2, s. 401, § 20.
* Ling, e Lett, spagn. , p. 308.
6 Baist, Grundr., n, 2, s. 389 ; Janer, Introd., pag. xxxvii.
6 Grundr., II, 2, s. 404, Anna.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 9
I have examined for interpolation 328 stanzas, just one-
half of the poem.
4. Gonzalo de Berceo : —
Vida de Sancto Domingo de Silos.
Vida de Sant Millan.
Del Sacrifipio de la Missa.
Martyrio de Sant Laurenpio.
Loores de Nuestra Sennora.
Milagros de Nuestra Sennora.
Vida de Sancta Oria, Virgen.
In Poetas Cast. ant. al siglo xv (Bibl. de Aut. Esp. de Rivadeneyra, t. 57),
pags. 39-146.
The works of Berceo were first published by D. Tom&s
Antonio S&nchez in 1780. Sanchez's introduction, reprinted
in the Rivadeneyra edition, gives no information with regard
to the manuscripts. The codices of the monastery of San
Mill&n, used by Sanchez, have been lost. Janer, in the
Rivadeneyra reprint, could collate the Sanchez text with
manuscripts only in the case of the Vida de Santo Domingo
de Silos and of the Sacrifigio de la Missa. Except in the
Silos and Saorifyio de la Missa, the text is confessedly arbi-
trary, as regards orthography at least.1 In none of the cases
where the text of Silos or Missa shows interpolation does
Janer indicate any variant between Sdnchez and the manu-
script and we may, perhaps, be justified in thinking that
the xvin century editor copied the cases in question with
reasonable fidelity. Compare, however, the note on Sanchez's
text of the Alexandre.
Gonzalo de Berceo was a member of the monastery of
San Millan de la Cogolla near Ndjera in the diocese of Cala-
horra on the upper waters of the Ebro. The period of his
literary activity falls approximately within the years 1220-
1246.2
1 Cf . Janer, Lib. cit. , pag. 39, Nota.
'Ticknor, Hist, of Span. Lit., i, p. 26 ; Baist, Grundr.,u, 2, a. 402, § 21.
10 WINTHEOP HOLT CHENERY.
The dialect of Berceo's poems is Castilian, but shows
traits of Aragonese, as might be expected from the situation
of San Millan de la Cogolla in the valley of the Ebro.1
The determination of Berceo's dialect is rendered uncertain
by the discrepancies in this regard of the Sanchez text and
the manuscript of Silos, belonging to the Real Academia de
la Historia.2
5. ^Gonzalo de Berceo? El Libro de Alexandre. Poetas
Cast. ant. al siglo xv (Bibl. de Aut. Esp. de M. Rivadeneyra, t. 57),
Florencio Janer, Edr., pags. 147-224.
This poem was first published by Sanchez in 1780 from
the manuscript in the library of the Dukes of Osuna y del
Infantado. This manuscript, which appears to be in script of
the xiv century,3 was collated with Sanchez's text by Janer,
who notes something over two-hundred variant readings.4
At least two of these variants are of interest in the present
investigation. In stanzas 2062 and 2063, in which se te tu
pierdes occurs twice, Sdnchez both times wrote, se tu te pierdes.*
Until the discovery by Baist in 1888 of an unknown xv
century manuscript containing the poem, the Alexandre was
generally attributed to Juan Lorenzo Segura de Astorga,
whose name occurs in the last stanza of the Osuna manu-
script.6 As early as 1875, however, Morel-Fatio, in the
*The dialect peculiarities of Berceo are summarily presented in Keller's
Alispanisches Lesebuch, ss. 154-5, under the caption " altcastilisch."
2 Janer, Lib. cit. , pag. 39, Nota.
SA. Morel-Fatio (Romania, iv, p. 15) assigns the Osuna manuscript to
the end of the xm century.
4 Lib. cii., pag. 147.
5 The sources of the Alexandre are studied by Morel-Fatio in Romania,
iv, p. 7 et miv. : "Eecherches sur le texte et les sources du Libro de
Alexandre."
6 Baist, Romanische Forschungen, vi, s. 292. The xv century manuscript
closes with the stanza :
Sy queredes saber gen [1. quien] fiso esta vitado [1. este ditado]
Goncalo de Berceo es por nombre clamado,
Natural de Madrid en Sant My[l]han quado [1. criado]
Del abat Johan Sanchonotajo [1. notario] por no[m]brado.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 11
article cited in the note above, suggested from interior evi-
dence that not Segura, but some one named Gonzalo,1 was
the real author of the Alexandre. Morel-Fatio, in the article
mentioned, is inclined to date the Alexandre somewhat later
than Berceo; the latter he assigns to the years 1220-1240,
while he thinks the Alexandre was composed between 1240
and 1260.
The poem, as we have it, is written in a dialect sensibly
different from that of the works known to be Berceo's.
Sanchez held the peculiarities of dialect to be Leonese.2
Morel-Fatio 3 considers the Leonese traits to be entirely due
to the copyist ; the original author, he thinks, employed a
Castilian dialect. Morel-Fatio' s main argument is based on
the observation of assonances. If the primitive author had
spoken a dialect in which 6 did not diphthongize, he could
not have written stanzas : —
542 : — fijuelo, — luego, — mocuelo, — aguero.*
2064 : — fazedera, — fuera, — muera, — guerrera.
1222 : — cierto, — abierto, — huerto, — muerto.
534 : — tienda, — fazienda, — cuenta, — fazienda.
J. Cornu (Romania, ix, p. 89 et suiv.) discusses the 3rd pers.
plur. perf. in -ioron in Alexandre and (p. 71) the dissyllabic
treatment of words of the type grey, ley, rey, common to the
Alexandre, the Apolonio and the works of Berceo. He con-
cludes that the Alexandre was written in a dialect very close
to the Castilian.5
As far as I can see, the internal evidence of the text
1 Stz. 1386, v. 4 : E dixo a Gonyalo : ve donnir que assaz as velado.
J Poetas Cast. , Introd. , pag. xxx.
8 Romania, iv, p. 25.
4 Why these four cannot stand in assonance in a non-diphthongizing
dialect, Morel-Fatio does not explain. The other cases are evident.
6G. Baist (Zeitschr. f. r. PhiloL, iv, s. 587) carries the discussion of verb
terminations in the Alexandre somewhat farther and attempts to show which
forms come from the author, which from Juan Lorenzo Segura and which
from later copyists.
12 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
furnishes no absolute criterion for determining the question
of authorship. The traits of western dialect may well be
due to Juan Lorenzo, whose native town of Astorga is on
the westernmost confines of the kingdom of Leon, close to
Galicia. It seems safe, however, to assume that the original
was written in a Castilian dialect.
No evidence for or against the authorship of Berceo is, I
think, to be drawn from the special investigation of the
present work. While, from reasons which will be developed
later, I consider the rather frequent occurrence of interpola-
tion in a text as early as that of the Alexandre a strong
evidence of western influence, yet I see no reason why this,
as well as other traits of dialect, may not be attributed to
the copyists. That copyists did sometimes substitute inter-
polation for the normal order, and vice-versa, we have evidence
from variant readings in some other works, notably those of
the manuscripts of the Archpriest of Hita.
In another chapter I shall attempt to show that interpola-
tion, if not absent from, was at least much less frequent in,
the original Alexandre in Castilian dialect.
6. Poema de Fernan Gonjalez. Texto critico, con intro-
ducci6n, notas y glosario por C. Carroll Harden. Baltimore : The
Johns Hopkins Press ; Madrid : Libreria de M. Murillo. 1904.
Critical edition, based on a manuscript of the third quarter
of the xv century, preserved in the Escorial.1
The author is generally held to have been a monk of San
Pedro de Arlanza, near Burgos in the heart of Old Castile.
The poem is certainly posterior to Berceo's Vida de Santo
Domingo de Silos, the Libro de Alexandre and the Crdnica
general.2 Marden, on the basis of historical allusions in the
poem itself, fixes the date at 1250 or soon after.3
1 Harden, Lib. cit. , Introd. , pag. xvi.
2 Marden (loc. tit., pdgs. xxviii-xxix) reviews all the previous notices
and furnishes bibliographical references.
3 Ibid., pags. xxx-xxxi, and Revue Hispanique, vir, pp. 22-27.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 13
In the citations given in the Appendix of this article
I have inverted the arrangement of Harden's edition. I
give the readings of the manuscript and indicate Marden's
corrections as variants. Words in the manuscript, but sup-
pressed by Harden, are italicized. Words added by Harden
are enclosed in parentheses. Variant readings proposed by
Harden are added in parentheses with M.
I have preferred to give the readings of the manuscript,
because I think that some of Harden's corrections, especially
in the matter of pronouns, are open to objection. I take
exception to the following : —
1) Quien con el se encontrrava non yva [se] del sano, stz. 260, v. 2.
How can the editor introduce an enclitic se when non
accompanies the verb? The negative particle regularly
attracts the object-pronoun to the proclitic position,1 except
in cases of interpolation, when the pronoun moves still
farther forward.
2) Nunca en otra ley tornar [se non] quisyeron, 9, 3.
A los vas[s]allos del conde dexar [le non gmsieron], 597, 4.
In the last verse the reading of the manuscript is : —
.... del conde dellos se departyeron.
Harden' s variant is based on a parallel passage in the Crdnica
General. In the entire poem there is not a single example
of the word-order tornar se non, while there are at least
eighteen 2 of the order infin.-neg.-pron. obj. -finite verb, e. g.
cobrar non lo podedes, stz. 68, v. 4.
7. (El Cantar de los Cantares) Das Hohelied in castillan-
ischer Sprache des xin. Jahrhunderts nach der Handschrift des
Escorial, I, i, 6, von Julius Cornu in Prag herausgegeben. Beitrage
zur rom. u. engl. Philol. Festgabe fur Wendelin Foerster. Ss.
121-128.
Ressner, Zeitschr. f. r. Phil., xvn, s. 37.
»Cf. stz. 68, v. 4 ; 98, 2 ; 276, 2 ; 276, 3 ; 285, 4 ; 334, 1 ; 400, 4 ; 432,
3 ; 435, 2 ; 462, 2 ; 490, 3 ; 538, 3 ; 556, 3 ; 570, 4 ; 676, 1 ; 678, 2 ; 735,
2; 745, 1.
14 . WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
Edited from a manuscript containing also the Gospels in
Castilian. An edition of the latter is promised by Cornu.
The manuscript is described in S. Berger's article Les Bibles
Castillanes, Romania, xxvm (1899), p. 560 and p. 391, § 2.
Owing to the infrequency of dependent clauses in the
Song of Solomon, the text does not afford much material for
the study of interpolation.
8. Textes castillans du xme si£cle. A. Morel-Fatio, Edr.
Romania, xvi (1887), pp. 364-382.
I. Poeme d' amour.
II. De"bat du vin et de 1'eau, en vers.
III. Les dix commandements avec commentaire & 1' usage des confesseurs.
(De los diez mandamientos. )
The two poems are composed in an irregular octosyllabic
verse, like that of the Vida de Santa Maria Egipciaca. The
three texts are found together in a manuscript of the xin
century, showing, Morel-Fatio thinks, traits of Aragonese
dialect.1 The Aragonese character is more pronounced in
the prose piece than in the poems.
9. Documentos de la 6poca de Don Alfonso el Sabio.
(Memorial Historico EspaHol, t. l), 1851.
Collection edited partly from original documents, partly
from earlier collections of such documents. The orthography
is much modernized. I have examined for interpolation a
number of documents of the years 1253 and 1254, nearly
all written by the scribe Garcia de Fromesta.
10. La Leyenda de los Infantes de Lara. De la Cr6nica
General que mando componer el Key Don Alfonso X. Kam6n
Mene"ndez Pidal : La Leyenda de los Infantes de Lara. Pags.
207-243.
Critical edition by Mene"ndez Pidal, based on the follow-
ing manuscripts of the Crdnica General of Alfonso X :
1 Loc. cit., p. 367 . . . sinon composes, du moins transcrites dans la partie
arragonaise-navarraise du domaine castillan.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 15
E Bibl. Escurial. x-i-4 Script of the middle of the xiv century.
/ Bibl. Nac. de Madrid i-i-4 Fifteenth century copy of a manuscript
closely related to E. /shows considerable modernizing of the
language
A Bibl. Nac. de Madrid x-61-1 Portuguese version in script of the
xiv century.
B Bibl. Nac. de Madrid F. 42. Castilian manuscript in xv century
hand.
F Bibl. Escurial. Y-ij-11 End(?) of xiv century. First part
written in Catalan. The Spanish remainder shows Eastern
characteristics.
T Library of Mene"ndez Pelayo. End of xiv century.
Z Bibl. Escurial. x-i-7 xv century.
G Bibl. Escurial. x-i-11 xv century.
Men6ndez Pidal (pag. 387) divides these manuscripts
into three groups: EIA, B, TYGZ. The text follows
mainly E. In the quotations I give the variants of the
other manuscripts only where they bear upon the subject of
interpolation. When no variant is given, all the manuscript
readings given by Menendez Pidal have the same pronoun
order as the text. I have examined for interpolation
chapters I-VII of MenSndez Pidal's text.
The Crdnica General was probably written in the first
half of the reign of Alfonso X el Sabio (1252-1284), i. e.,
in the third quarter of the xin century.1
11. La Gran Conquista de Ultramar que mando escribir el
rey don Alfonso el Sabio. Ilustrada con notas crfticas y un
glosario por D. Pascual de Gayangos (Bibl. de Aviores EspaHolen,
t. 44). Madrid : M. Eivadeneyra. 1877.
Thirty-five chapters of Book III and all of Book IV are
edited from a manuscript of the Bibl. National, in script of
the beginning of the xiv century. The edition is, however,
plainly not diplomatic. I have examined for interpolation
the first twenty chapters of Book IV (pp. 504-515).
The work is a Spanish translation made, not for Alfonso
1Baist, Grundr. d. rcm. Phil., II. Bd., 2. Abt., s. 410.
16 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
the Wise but for Sancho IV, probably in the last years of
the xin century.1
12. a) Don Juan Manuel, El Libro de la Caza zum ersten-
male herausgegeben von G. Baist. Halle : Max Niemeyer. 1880.
b) Don Juan Manuel: El Libro del Cauallero et del
Escudero. Mit Einleitung und Anmerkungen nach der Hand-
schrift neu herausgegeben von S. Grafenberg. 1893. (Romanische
Forschungen, VII. Bd., ss. 427-550.)
c) Juan Manuel : El Libro de los Enxiemplos del
Conde Lucanor et de Patronio. Text und Anmerkungen aus dem
Nachlasse von Hermann Knust herausgegeben von Adolf Birch-
Hirschfeld. Leipzig : Dr. Seele und Co. 1900.
In the case of the Libro de la Caza and of the Libro del
Cauallero et del Escudero, the material presented in the
Appendix of this article covers the whole text; in that
of the Libro de los Enxiemplos, only the first twenty-five
exemplos (pp. 1-110).
The three works named above are all edited from the
same manuscript (Bibl. Nacional de Madrid, S. 35). This
is of the xv century and a full hundred years later than the
author. Other manuscripts are known to exist only in the
case of the Libro de los Enxiemplos. The edition of the latter
gives variants from four other manuscripts : —
M MS. of the second half of the xv century in the Bibl. Nac. de
Madrid.
E MS. of the xv century in the same library.
P MS. of the xv century, belonging to the Conde de Pufionrostro.
G MS. of the xvi century in the collection of D. Pascual Gayangos.
Don Juan, son of the Infante Don Manuel and nephew
of Alfonso X, lived from 1282 to 1348.2 The chronology
1 Gayangos, Op. cit. , p. xi ; Baist, Grundr. d. rom. Phil. , II. Bd. , 2. Abt. ,
s. 415, § 28 ; Gaston Paris, Romania, xvn, p. 513 et suiv. : "La Chanson
d'Antioche provenpale et la Gran Conquista de Ultramar."
3 Baist, Grundr. d. rom. Phi!,, II. Bd., 2. Abt., s. 418.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 17
of his works has been minutely worked out by Gottfried
Baist,1 who dates the three works in question as follows : —
Libro de la Caza. A. D. 1325-6.
Libro del Cauallero et del Escudero. 1326.
Libro de los Enxiemplos. Primera Parte 1328—9.
It is probable that, in spite of the lateness of the manu-
scripts, the texts, as we have them, reflect pretty faithfully
the syntactic usage of Don Juan. The latter, as he tells us
himself,2 was particularly nice in matters of language and
orthography, which makes the loss of the older manuscripts
the more regrettable.
13. Juan Ruiz, arcipreste de Hita : Libro de Buen Amor.
Texte du xive siecle, public" pour la premiere fois avec les lecons
des trois manuscrits connus par Jean Ducamin (BibliothZque Me-
ridionale publiee sous les auspices de la Faculte des Lettres de Toulouse.
lreSerie. Tomevi.) Toulouse : Edouard Privat. 1901.
This is one of the very few editions of a Spanish text,
presenting with any degree of completeness variant readings
from several manuscripts. The editor designates and de-
scribes the manuscripts as follows : —
S MS. formerly belonging to the Colegio Mayor de San Bartolome* at
Salamanca, now in the library of the Royal Palace at Madrid.
Script of the end of the xiv, or beginning of the xv century,
in any case later than that of the two following.
G MS. formerly belonging to D. Benito Martinez Gayoso, now in the
1 Baist, Die Zeitfolge der Schriften D. Juan Manuels : Libro de la Caza,
ss. 128-155.
2 " Et porque don Johan vio et sabe que en los libros contesce[n] muchos
yerros en los trasladar porque las letras semejan unas a otras, cuydando por
la una letra que es [la] otra, en escriviendolo mudase toda la rrazon et
por aventura confondese, et los que despues fallan aquello escripto, ponen
la culpa al que fizo el libro, et porque don Johan se rrecelo desto, rruega a
los que leyeren qualquier libro que fuere trasladado del que el conpuso o de
los libros que el fizo, que si fallaren alguna palabra mal puesta, que non
pongan la culpa a el, fasta que bean el libro mismo que don Johan fizo que
es emendado en muchos logares de su letra." — Libro de los Enxiemplos,
pag. 1 y 2.
2
18 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
library of the Real Academia Espafiola. Script of the XIV
century.1
T MS. formerly in the library of the cathedral of Toledo, now in the
National Library at Madrid. Script of the same age and char-
acter as that of G.2
Juan Ruiz, Archpriest of Hita, near Guadalajara in New
Castile, was probably born near the end of the xni century
and certainly lived until the middle of the following cen-
tury.3 The date Era 1381 or A. D. 1343, given in stanza
1634, probably comes from the author himself.4
14. Poema de Alfonso Onceno, rey de Castilla y de Le6n.
Florencio Janer, Edr. Poetas Castellanos anteriores al siglo xv
(Bibl. de Autores Espanoles, t. 57), p&gs. 477-551.
1 G is dated at the end, A. D. 1389 : ,
fenito libro, grafias a domino nostro jesu xpisto ; este libro
fue acabado jueues xxm dias de jullio del
ano del Nasfimiento del nuestro saluador jesu xpisto
de mill e tresientos e ochenta e Nueue anos. Pag. 330.
2 In the quotations which I have made from this work, I have followed
the text as given by the editor, i. e. , the text of S and where that is lack-
ing, G. I have indicated the variant readings of the manuscripts only
where they affect cases of interpolation. In order to insure greater fidelity
to the manuscripts, the editor employs four varieties of s, namely, s,/, <r, s,
and two sorts of i besides j. As these orthographic refinements in no way
affect the question of interpolation, I have disregarded them, representing
s, /, and ff by s alone, and j by z.
3 Fitzmaurice-Kelly, Hist, of Span. Lit., p. 76.
* ' ' Era de mill E tresientos E ochenta E vn anos
fue conpuesto el rromance, por muchos males e dafios
que fasen muchos e muchas aotras con sus enganos,
E por mostrar alos synplex (sic) fablas e versos estranos."
Stz. 1634, MS. S.
T ends at this point with a variant stanza, naming a date three years
earlier, as follows : —
Era de mill e tresyentos e sesenta e ocho anos
fue acabado este lybro por muchos males e dafios
daputs (sic) que fasen muchos e muchas a otros con sus engafios
E por mostrar alos synpres fabras e versos estranos.
OBJECT-PBONOUN8 IN OLD SPANISH. 19
Edited by Janer from a manuscript of the end of the xiv
century, preserved in the Escorial. Whether Rodrigo Ya"fiez,
mentioned in stanza 1841, is the author, is uncertain. Janer
(Op. cit., Introd., pag. xlviii) believes the poem is nearly
contemporary with the events which it describes, e. g. the
conquest of Algeciras, A. D. 1344 (Era 1382, vide stz.
2451).
Cornu and Baist believe the poem is a transcription of a
Portuguese or Galician original. Carolina Michaelis, on the
other hand, believes the original composer was a Leonese,
accustomed to speak Portuguese or at least compose in that
idiom. Both Cornu and Michaelis base their conclusions on
the study of assonances in the poem.1
The evidence from interpolation is probably not sufficient
to decide the question of original dialect. The author, in
any case, can hardly have been a Castilian. The use of
interpolation hi the text, as will be shown, is exactly parallel
to that of Portuguese and Galician texts, and quite different
from anything in works of undoubted Castilian origin.
15. Pero L6pez de Ayala : Bimado de Palacio. Este
libro 690 el honrado caballero Pero Lopez de Ayala estando preso
e llamase el Libro de Palagio [sic]. Florencio Janer : Poetas
Castellanos anteriores al siglo xv (Bibl. de Aut. Esp., t. 57),
pags. 425-476.
Janer gives no data with regard to the manuscript or
manuscripts on which the edition is based. He merely says
(p. 425) : " Enteramente conforme con el c6dice mds com-
plete que se conoce."
The author lived from 1332 to 1407. Baist2 dates the
Rimado from 1378 to 1385. Fitzmaurice-Kelly 3 assigns
1 Baist, Grundr. f. r. Phihl., II. Bd., 2. Abt., s. 422, § 35; Michaelis,
Ibid., ss. 204-5 u. Anmerkungen.
J Grundr. d. rvm. Philol., Bd. II., 2. Abt., s. 421.
3 Hist, of Span. Lit., p. 89.
20 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
the composition of the work to the years 1378-1403, basing
the latter date on a statement in the text that the schism of
1378 had lasted twenty-five years.
I have examined for interpolation the first five hundred
stanzas (2000 verses), pp. 425-441.
16. Poema de Jos6. Michael Schmitz : Ueber das alt-
spanische Poema de Jose". Romanische Forschungen, xi (1901),
ss. 315-411.
Edited from the edition by Morf 1 of the manuscript of
the Bibl. Nac. de Madrid in Arabic script. The manuscript
is of the xvi century. A somewhat different .version of the
poem exists in an older manuscript now in the library of
the Real Academia de la Historia and edited by Ramon
Menendez Pidal.2 I have not been able to collate all the
cases of pronouns in the two editions, but in those that I
have collated I have found agreement.
Morf dates the poem not earlier than the second half of
the xv century. Menendez Pidal puts it much earlier, con-^
sidering the manuscript edited by him to belong to the end
of the xiv or beginning of the xv century.
Gayangos and Menendez Pidal believe the writer was
Aragonese. Menendez Pidal, in the article cited, makes a
detailed study of the traits of Aragonese dialect in the poem.
With regard to the use of pronouns, the most noticeable
peculiarity of the poem is the very frequent occurrence of
the pronoun subject. This may be an argument for a rather
late date.
17. Visi6n de Filiberto. Octavio de Toledo (Jos6 Maria),
Edr. Zeitschriftf. rom. PhiloL, II, ss. 40-60.
1 H. Morf, El Poema de Jose, Leipzig, 1883.
2 Poema de Yupuf. Materiales para su estudio. Revista de Archivos,
Siblioteeas y Museos, 3» Epoca, t. VH (1902), pags. 91-129; 276-309;
347-362.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 21
A xiv century prose redaction of the Disputcdio Corporis
et Animae, found in the Toledo manuscript of the Libra de
Buen Amor of Juan Ruiz,1 and in script of the same charac-
ter. The latter, as has been shown, is a manuscript of the
last years of the xiv century.2
18. Pedro de Luna : Libro de las consolaciones de la vida
humana. Escritores en Prosa anteriores al siglo xv recogidos e"
il ust nidi is por D. Pascual de Gayangos (BM. deAut. Esp., t. 51),
pags. 561-602.
Edited from a codex in a hand of the beginning of the
xv century in the Escorial.3 The work is divided into fif-
teen books of which the first ten (or fifty-four columns of the
Rivadeneyra type) were examined for interpolation.
Pedro de Luna, known also as Antipope Benedict XIII,
was a native of Aragon. Luna, who died in 1423 or 1424,
composed the work in Latin in his declining years under the
title Vitae humanae adversus omnes casus consolationes. It
is not certain that the Castilian version is by him, but various
Aragonisms in the text make it seem probable.4
19. a) El Libro de Exenplos por A. B. C. de Climente
Sdnchez, archidiacre de Valderas. MS. de Paris. A. Morel-
Fatio, Edr. Romania, vn, p. 481 et suiv.
b) El Libro de los Enxemplos. Escritores en Prosa
anteriores al siglo xv, recogidos e" ilustrados por D. Pascual de
Gayangos (Bibl. deAut. Esp., t. 51), pags. 447-542. Madrid:
M. Rivadeneyra. 1884.
1 Vide MS. Tin No. 13, above.
2Octavio de Toledo (loc. tit.) also edits a text, Reuelacion de vn her-
mitanno (MS. del Escorial, xiv century), with the somewhat varying text
of the Dispute del cuerpo e del anima (MS. de la Bibl. Natl. de Paris) with
the variants of another Paris MS. These texts are not available for the
present investigation because not presenting any cases of pronouns in the
categories where interpolation commonly occurs.
'Gayangos (op. dt., p. 561) mentions a second manuscript, "propiode
un sugeto avedndado en esta corte," but gives no indication of variants.
4 Gayangos, op. cit., p. 561.
22 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
The Bivadeneyra edition is printed from a Madrid manu-
script, not older than the xv century.1 This manuscript
lacks seventy-two exemplos, all but one in the first part of the
alphabet. These were found in a later manuscript, now in
Paris, and are published in Romania as above. The rest of
the Paris manuscript remains unedited. Morel-Fatio dates
the Paris manuscript as of the end of the xv century. The
composition of the work he assigns to the years 1400-1 42 1.2
20. a) La Estoria de los Quatro Dotores de la Santa Eglesia.
Die Geschichte der vier grossen lateinischen Kirchenlehrer, in
einer alten spanischen Uebersetzung nach Vincenz von Beauvais
herausgegeben von Friedrich Lauchert (Romanische Bibliothek hrsg.
v. Dr. Wendelin Foerster, XIV. Bd. ). Halle a. S. : Max Niemeyer.
1897.
b) La Estoria del rey Anemur e de losaphat e de
Barlaam. Von Friedrich Lauchert. Romanische Forschungen,
VII. Bd., ss. 331-402.
Critical editions made from a xv century manuscript in
the library of the University of Strassburg. Lauchert3
thinks the manuscript is a copy of an earlier Spanish trans-
lation from the Speculum historiale of Vincent of Beauvais.
The original Spanish translation cannot, I think, be older
than the middle of the xv century. The orthography is
archaistic and similar to that of the texts of Don Juan
Manuel and other works of the xiv century but the con-
structions employed seem more modern. I wish these works
and their manuscript might be more exactly dated, as they
are among those that exhibit the last vestiges of interpola-
tion in Castilian.
21. a) El Primero Libro del esforzado et virtuoso caballero
Amadis, hijo del rey Peri6n de Gaula y de la reina Elisena ; el
1 See Gayangos, lac. tit., pag. 423, and also in his notes to Ticknor, Hist,
de la Lit. Esp., I, p. 502.
'Romania, vn, p. 482 et swiv. 3 Est. de los Qu. Dot., p. x.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 23
cual fu£ corregido y emendado por el honrado e" virtuoso caballero
Garci-Ord&fiez de Montalbo, regidor de la noble villa de Medina
del Campo, e" corregi&le de los antiguos originates, que estaban
corruptos 6 compuestos en antiguo estilo, etc. Libros de Cabal-
lerfas, con un discurso preliminar y un catalogo razonado por D.
Pascual de Gayangos (Bibl. de Aut. Esp., t. 40). Madrid: M.
Kivadeneyra. 1874.
b) Las Sergas del muy esforzado caballero Esplandidn,
hijo del excelente rey Amadis de Gaula. In Libros de Cabal-
lerfas, etc. (as above), pags. 403-561.
The Bivadeueyra edition is a reprint of an edition printed
at Venice in 1533 by Francisco Delgado. The extant edi-
tion of 1508 was not accessible to Gayangos. I have
examined for interpolation the first twenty chapters of Book
I of Amadis (108 columns of Bivadeneyra text) and the
first ten chapters of Las Sergas.
The first books of Amadis, as we know them, were com-
piled in the last years of the xv century by Garci-Ordofiez
de Montalvo from earlier works, but are not known to have
been printed before 1508.1 The question whether Montalvo' s
source was Spanish or Portuguese has been the subject of a
controversy among scholars and is not yet definitely settled.2
Las Sergas de Esplandidn is a sequel to Amadis, composed
by Montalvo himself.3
The frequent cases in Amadis of interpolation, taken
together with the absence of interpolation in Las Sergas,
tend to confirm the argument for a Portuguese source.
Meyer-Liibke has anticipated me in suggesting that interpo-
lation in Amadis may be due to the Portuguese original,4 but
1Baist, Grundr. <L r. PMl., II. BdM 2. Abt., s. 440, § 46.
*Baist, loc. tit., B. 441 ; Carolina Michaelis, op. eit., II. Bd., 2. Abt, ss.
216-226, §§ 55-66.
'Baist, loc. cit., s. 440.
*Orammaiik d. rom. Spr., IV, s. 764, § 715. Gessner (Zeitschr. f. ram.
Philol., xvn, s. 34) mentions interpolation and other peculiarities of pro-
nominal syntax as distinguishing Amadis from other contemporary Spanish
texts, but does not ascribe them to Portuguese influence.
24 WINTHROP HOLT CHENEEY.
I shall, in another part of this investigation, attempt to
show that interpolation in Amadis is of a quite different sort
from that found in texts of undoubted Castilian origin and
that it bears a decidedly Portuguese stamp.
22. La Leyenda del abad don Juan de Montemayor, publi-
cada por Bam6n Mene*ndez Pidal (Gesellschqft fur Romanische
Literatur, 2. Bd. ). Dresden. 1903. ( Vertreter fiir den Buch-
handel : Max Niemeyer, Halle a. S. )
1. Diego Rodriguez de Almela : Compendio historial. Capftulo
cclxxxvij.
2. Historia del Abad don Juan de Montemayor impresa en Valla-
dolid, 1562.
The first text is a chapter from Almela's historical work,
composed about 1479 and presented to the Catholic Monarchs
in 1491. This work exists in two different redactions, the
first having one, the second, four, manuscripts. Menendez
Pidal publishes the text of the manuscript of the first redac-
tion with varia lectio of the manuscripts of the second. The
manuscripts are distinguished as follows : —
First Redaction.
P Bibl. Nac. de Madrid. P-l In hand of the second half of the xv
century.
Second Redaction.
U Bibl. Escurial. U-ij-10 y 12 Of the beginning of the xvi century.
M xvi century manuscript in the library of D. Marcelino Menendez
Pelayo.
Note. — In quoting from this text I give variants only where they
interest the question of interpolation.
The second text is edited from a copy of the only known
exemplar of the edition of 1562. The copy was made under
the supervision of Sra Michaelis de Vasconcellos.
The common sources of both of these texts are extensively
discussed by Men&idez Pidal (op. cit, pags. vii-xxxvi). His
thesis is that they are taken from a lost prose redaction of a
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 25
lost Castilian epic. Carolina Michaelis had assumed a Por-
tuguese origin for the legend.1
No argument for or against the theory of a Castilian
original could be drawn from the cases of interpolation in
Almela's text without previously comparing other portions
of his work. The cases of interpolation seem rather
frequent for so late a work but are of the same character
as those observed in xiv century Castilian texts and may be
copied from the lost Castilian prosificacidn which MenSndez
Pidal's theory postulates.
23. Souhaits de bienvenue adressSs a Ferdinand le Catho-
lique par un poete barcelonais en 1473. Romania, xi, pp. 333-356.
(A. Morel-Fatio, Edr.)
24. Comedia de Calisto et Melibea. (Unico texto aute"ntico
de la Celestina. ) Keimpresi6n publicada por R. Foulche*-Delbosc.
(Bibliateca Hispanica.) Barcelona, "L'Avenp;" Madrid, M.
Murillo. 1900.
A reprint of the third edition of the work, published in
1501 at Seville.2
25. Juan de Vald6s : Dialogo de la Lengua. Herausge-
geben von Eduard Boehraer. Romanische Studien hrsg. v. Eduard
Boehmer, VI. Bd., ss. 339-490. Bonn : Eduard Weber's Verlag
(Julius Flittner), 1895.
Edited from a manuscript in the Bibl. Nac. de Madrid.
The manuscript was probably written before 1558.3 The
dialog was composed about 1535.4
26. La vida de Lazarillo de Tormes, y de sus fortunas y
aduersidades. Restituci6n de la edici&n principe por R. Foulch<5-
1 Grundr. d. r<m. Philol., II. Bd., 2. Abt., s. 206, § 50.
'Gessner (Zdtschr. f. rom. Philol., xvu, s. 34) states that interpolation
does not occur in the Celestina. My examination of the critically edited
reprint confirms his finding.
3 Boehmer, op. cit., s. 455.
*Baist, Grundr. d. rom. Philol., II, Bd., 2. Abt., s. 458, § 59.
26 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
Delbosc. (Bibliotecahispanica.) Barcelona, " L' Aveny ;" Madrid,
M. Murillo. 1900.
Critical reconstruction of the lost editio princeps from the
three editions of the year 1554 (Alcald de Henares, Burgos,
and Antwerp) with the variant readings of these editions.
27. Luis de Leon : La Perfecta Casada por el maestro F.
Luys de Leon. Texto del siglo xvi. Beimpresi6n de la Tercera
Edici6n, con variantes de la Primera y un Pr&logo por Elizabeth
Wallace. (Decennial Publications. Second Series. Vol. VI.)
Chicago : The University of Chicago Press. 1903.
The edition followed was printed at Salamanca in 1587.
GALICIAN AND PORTUGUESE TEXTS.
28. Cantigas de Santa Maria de Don Alfonso el Sabio.
Las publica la Real Academia Espaflola. (L. de Cueto, marque^
deValmar, Edr. ). Madrid : Luis Aguado. 1889.
Edition made from a xin century manuscript preserved in
the Escorial.1 The cantigas date from about the third quarter
of the xin century.2 I have collected the examples of
interpolation in the first fifteen cantigas (pags. 3-26).
29. (El-Key Dom Diniz de Portugal.) Das Liederbuch des
Konigs Denis von Portugal. Zum ersten Mai vollstandig heraus-
gegeben und mit Einleitung, Anmerkungen und Glossar versehen
von Henry E. Lang. Halle a. S. : Max Niemeyer. 1894.
Critical edition based on Monad's diplomatic editions of
the Cancioneiro da Vaticana (Codex Yaticanus 4803) 3 and
the Cancioneiro Colocei-Brancuti. The Vatican codex be-
longs to the end of the xv or beginning of the xvi century.4
1 Paz y Melia, op. cit. , Introd. , p. 37.
2 Carolina Michaelis, Grund,r. d. ram. Philol., II. Bd., 2. Abt., ss. 184-5.
8 II canzoniere portoghese della biblioteca vaticana, messo a stampa da
Ernesto Monaci. Con una prefazione, con facsimili e con altre illustrw-
zioni. Halle a. S.: Max Niemeyer editore. 1875.
4 Lang, op. cit., Einl. s. V.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 27
Dom Diniz, grandson of Alfonso X of Castile, reigned from
1279 to 1325.1
I have examined for interpolation only the first fifty
cantigas d'amor, all taken from the Vatican manuscript (985
verses hi all). The quotations hi the Appendix follow
Lang's text in every case, as very few of his emendations
affect cases of interpolation.2
30. Estoria troyaa acabada era de mill et quatro9entos et
onze annos (1373). Extraits du MS. de la Sibl. Natle. de Madrid,
i-i-67 par Jules Cornu. Miscellanea Linguistica in onore di Gra-
ziadio Ascoli, pp. 95-128. 1901.
Cr6nica Troyana, c6dice gallego del siglo xiv de la
Biblioteca Nacional de Madrid, con apuntes gramaticales y vocabu-
lario por D. Manuel R. Rodriguez. Publfcalo & expensas de la
excma. Diputacion de esta provincia Andres Martinez Salazar.
Volumen Primero. La Corufia. Imprenta de la Casa de Miseri-
cordia. 1900.
Both publications are based on the same manuscript. This
was completed in the year 1373. In the quotations I have
followed the text as given by Cornu, examining for interpo-
lation pages 95—113.
31. a) Vida de Eufrosina.
b) Vida de Maria Egipcia.
c) Extraits d'un Trait6 de devotion.
Textes portugais du xive siecle. Jules Cornu, Edr.
Romania, xi, pp. 357-390.
These three works are found hi a single xrv century
manuscript. The first two are in the same hand. The third
is hi a different hand.
1 Ibid., s. xxxriff.
a To v. 975 : qual eu a vi, u ouvi Deus irado, Lang appends the following
note : ms. ql eu ui ; der sinn some das metrum, verlangen a. In view of the
great preponderance of the interpolated order in the text, I should have
emended : qual a eu vi, etc.
28 WINTHROP HOLT CHENEEY.
32. Un Viaggio fantastico, in portoghese. E. Teza : Tri-
foglio. Zdtschriftf. rom. Philol, XL Bd., ss. 289-297.
Edited from a manuscript in the library of Siena (D. V.
13, pp. 219-223). The text is Old Portuguese but the
editor vouchsafes no further indication of date.
33. Z. Consiglieri Pedroso : Contribucoes para um roman-
ceiro e cancioneiro popular portuguez. Romania, X, pp. 100-116.
1881.
Collected by the editor from oral tradition chiefly in
Lisbon and vicinity.
34. A. Coelho, Edr. : Romances sacros, ora9oes e ensalmos
populares do Minho. Romania, in, p. 262 et suiv. 1874.
Collected by the editor from oral tradition in the province
named.
35. Henry R. Lang : Tradi9oes populares a9orianas. Can-
tigas populares. Zeitschr. f. rom. PhM., XVI. Bd., ss. 422-431.
Editor's note (s. 422) : "Os materiaes que vou dar a conhecer
aqui, foram sem excepfao colhidos de gente da ilha do
Fayal."
NOTES ON SPANISH TEXTS AND SPANISH
DIALECTS IN GENERAL.
An examination of the preceding list of texts, utilized for
linguistic material, will show that, whenever they were to be
had, critically edited editions have been followed. As the
number of the latter is still very limited, it has been neces-
sary to have recourse to a rather large number of works
which have not yet found critical editors.
It will be seen, also, that in the case of most works there
have been added to the usual bibliographical indications of
edition, manuscripts, etc., a few words with regard to the
chronology and dialect both of the manuscripts and of the
author.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 29
In many cases the chronology is decidedly unsatisfactory.
The small number of critical editions, the dearth of texts
edited on more than one manuscript, and the lack of critical
apparatus generally, make it extremely hazardous, in the
absence of external data, to attempt to fix from internal
criteria alone the date of any text.
Even more perplexing than the question of date is that
of dialect. In the absence of any authoritative treatise on
the subject, it may be well briefly to state the principles
which have guided the present investigation.
In the first place one must bear in mind the historical
conditions of the formative period, i. e., the period during
which the peninsular dialects were differentiating most
rapidly from Vulgar Latin and taking on those character-
istics of Castilian, Galician, etc., which we meet in the
earliest Romance texts. For a period of nearly four cen-
turies, that is, from the fall of the Visigothic monarchy in
A. D. 711 to the last quarter of the xi century,1 all of Spain
south of the rivers Ebro and Duero remained in undisputed
possession of the Moors. In the course of the x and xi
centuries, we observe the rise of several independent Christian
states along the northern border of the peninsula. Each of
these is, I think, to be regarded as a linguistic centre.
These states, proceeding from East to West, are : —
1) Catalonia.
2) Aragon and Navarre.
3) Old Castile.
1 The following dates will give an approximate idea of the chronology of
the Christian recovery of the peninsula : 1085. Capture of Toledo. — 1094.
Valencia taken by the Cid, but evacuated in 1102. — 1104. Capture of
Medinaceli, a Moorish stronghold near the meeting point of the boundaries
of Old Castile, New Castile and Aragon. — 1118. Saragossa. — 1147.
Lisbon.— 1177. Cuenca, in New Castille.— 1212. Battle of Las Navas de
Tolosa, carrying Christian arms into Andalusia. — 1236. Capture of Cor-
doba.—1238. Final capture of Valencia.— 1248. Seville.
30 WINTHROP HOLT CHENEBY.
4) Asturias and Leon.
5) Galicia.
As the Christian recovery of Spain proceeded from North
to South, each of these small states formed, as it were, a
linguistic base from which speech was carried southward by
the conquistadores. In their gradual progress southward,
the Christians of the North mingled with great bodies of
Romance speaking brethren (aljamiados) who had been liv-
ing under Mohammedan rule. It would seem, however, as
if the influence of the aljamiado dialects on the future trend
of speech had been inconsiderable as compared with that of
the northern linguistic centres named above. The northern
conquerors, the cristianos viejos, everywhere formed the
dominant class and, naturally, the pioneers of literature in
the vernacular would either be members of the dominant
caste or if not, would wish to adopt its idiom.
I shall consider the five linguistic centres in turn, pro-
ceeding from East to West.
1) Catalonia. — This is the centre of a linguistic province
so sharply marked off from the rest of Spain that we do not
have to regard it in the study of the interrelations of Spanish
dialects. Catalan speech extended southwards, embracing a
large part of the east coast.
2) Aragon and Navarre. — Unlike Catalonia, Aragon had
no Trans-Pyrenean connections and its speech is very close
to that of its western neighbor, Castile. In the march of
conquest the Aragonese moved to the southeast, leaving New
Castile to their western neighbors.
3) Old Castile. — The kings of Castile, in their triumph-
ant progress from the conquest of Toledo in 1085 to that of
Seville in 1248, that is, in a century and a half, carried their
speech over the greater part of the peninsula. The linguistic
province, which at Santander on the Cantabrian coast runs
almost to a point, spreads out ever wider and wider towards
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 31
the south, taking in first New Castile and finally all Anda-
lusia and Murcia. The relative uniformity of Spanish as
spoken to-day over all of this vast area, in contrast to the
divergent vernaculars of other parts of the peninsula, still
bears witness to the former unity of Castilian speech.
4) Leon and Asturias. — Although these provinces were
the cradle of the Reconquista, their dialect, owing to their
early union with Castile and the transference of the seat of
power to the latter country, remained subordinate to the
Castilian and was not, to any great extent, carried into the
conquered regions. It forms, however, a connecting link
between the speech of Castile and that of Galicia, having
characteristics in common with each of them.
5) Galicia. — The speech of this province differentiated
itself markedly from the dialects to the East and, carried
southward into Portugal, gave rise to the modern Portuguese.
In the Middle Ages, however, there was no sharp boundary
between Galician, on the one hand, and Leonese and Cas-
tilian on the other. In spite of salient phonetic differences
both of these idioms belong to the same Sprachgemeinde.
For this reason it has been necessary to include Portuguese
and Galician texts in the present investigation.
The point of the preceding discussion which I wish most
to emphasize is the fundamental character of the East to
West differentiation of the dialects, in contrast to the com-
parative uniformity of speech in the direction North and
South. This has an important bearing on my thesis, as I
hope to make it seem probable that interpolation is a phe-
nomenon first appearing in the West, gradually extending
towards the East, gaining a foothold for a time in Old
Castile but falling from Castilian speech when the centres
of political and literary activity were shifted eastward from
Old Castile to New Castile.
32
WINTHBOP HOLT CHENEBY.
ALPHABETIC LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS.
The Numbers refer to the List of Spanish, Galician and Portuguese Texts.
Abad Juan. La Leyenda del Abad don Juan de Montemayor (22).
Alex. El Libra de Alexandre (5).
Alf. Onceno. Poema de Alfonso Onceno (14).
Amadis. Amadis de Gaula (21a).
Apol. Libro de Apolonio (3).
Berceo. Gonzalo de Berceo (4).
Laur. Martyrio de Sant Laurenpio.
Loor. Loores de Nuestra Sennora.
Milag. MHagros de Nuestra Sennora.
Millan. Vida de Sant Millan.
Missa. Del Sacrifiqio de la Missa.
Oria. Vida de Sancta Oria, Virgen.
Silos. Vida de Sancto Domingo de Silos.
Buen Amor. v. Juan Kuiz.
Cant. Cant. El Cantar de los Cantares (7).
Cant. S. Maria. Cantigas de Santa Maria de Don Alfonso el Sabio (28).
Cav. et Esc. v. Juan Manuel.
Caza. v. Juan Manuel.
Celest. Comedia de Calisto et Melibea, etc. (24).
Cid. Poema del Old (1).
Consol. Pedro de Luna : Libro de las Consolaciones de la vida
humana (18).
Contrib. Contribufdes para um romanceiro e cancioneiro popular
portuguez (33).
De"bat. Debat du vin et de I' eau ( 8) .
Dial. Leng. Juan de Valdfe : Didlogo de la Lengua (25).
Diniz. El-Rey Dom Diniz de Portugal : Das Liederbuch des
Konigs Denis v. Portugal (29).
Docs. Alf. X. Documentos de la epoca de Don Alfonso et Sabio (9).
Egipc. Vida de Santa Maria Egipciaca (2).
Egipc. (Pg. ). Vida de Maria Egipcia (31b).
Enxemp. El Libro de los Enxemplos (19b).
Est. Troy. Estoria Troyaa, etc. (30).
Eufros. Vida de Eufrosina ( 31a).
Exenp. El Libro de Exenplos de Climente Sanchez (19a).
Fern. Gone. Poema de Fernan Gonzalez (6).
Filiberto. Vision de Filiberto (17).
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH.
33
Gran. Conq. La Gran Conquista de Ultramar (11).
Inf. de Lara. La Leyenda de los Infantes de Lara (10).
Jose*. Poema de Jose (16).
Juan Manuel. Don Juan Manuel.
Cav. et Esc. El Libra del CauaUero et del Escudero (12b).
Gaza. El Libra de la Gaza (12a).
Patronio. El Libra de los Enxiemplos del Conde Lucanor et de
Patronio (12c).
Juan Ruiz : Buen Juan Kuiz, arcipreste de Hita :
Amor. Libra de Buen Amor (13).
Laur. v. Berceo.
Lazar. La Vida de Lazarillo de Tormes (26).
Loor. v. Berceo.
Mand. De los diez Mandamientos (8).
Milag. v. Berceo.
M illan. v. Berceo.
Missa. v. Berceo.
Oria. v. Berceo.
P. d'A. Poeme d' Amour (8).
Patronio. v. Juan Manuel.
Perf. Casada. Luis de Le&n : La Perfecta Casada (27).
Quatro Dot. La Estoria de los Quatro Dolores de la, Santa Eglesia
(20a).
Rimado. Pero L6pez de Ayala : Rimado de Palacio (15).
Rom. Sacr. Romances sacros, oraqdes e ensalmos populares do Minho
(34).
Sergas. Las Sergas de Esplandian (21b).
Silos. v. Berceo.
Souhaits. Souhaits de bienvenue adresses d Ferdinand le Catholique
(23).
Trad. Acor. Tradi$ 5s populares ac orianas (35).
Trait^. Extraits d'un Traite de devotion (31c).
Viag. Fantast. Viaggio fantastico in portoghese (32).
34 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
ONE.
STUDY OF INTERPOLATION IN THE TEXTS.
INTRODUCTORY NOTE ON THE CLASSIFICATION OF THE
ILLUSTRATIVE MATERIAL.
Before entering upon the discussion of interpolation in
individual texts, a few words of explanation with regard to
the classification of examples will be necessary.
Interpolations of more than one word are rare in Castilian
texts. The interpolated word is almost invariably : —
1) The negative particle non (or no). In this category
fall a majority of all the cases of interpolation.
2) An adverb (other than non), e. g. bien, mat, mucho,
asi, etc. Interpolations of this sort are less frequent
than those of No. 1. This category will be sym-
bolized by the adverb bien.
3) A personal pronoun subject. This category will be
symbolized by the pronoun yo.
Another variety of interpolation, consisting of but a single
word, is that of a noun (oftenest Dios) or a demonstrative
pronoun, e. g. esto. Examples of this sort of interpolation
are infrequent and in most of the articles of the Appendix
are, for convenience, combined with those of interpolations
of more than one word.
In a great majority of the latter, one of the interpolated
words belongs to one of the three categories mentioned
above, or the interpolation may be a combination of two of
them, e. g. yo non, yo bien. Interpolation of a noun or
demonstrative pronoun I designate as nominal, that of two
or more words as multiverbal.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 35
The most general characteristic of interpolation, however,
is the fact that wherever it occurs, the pronoun-object follows
immediately after the initial word of a dependent clause.
The exceptions to this rule are so rare in Castilian texts that
I class all such exceptions as anomalous. The anomalous
interpolations are of two sorts : 1st) Those in which the
pronoun-object follows some member of a principal clause
(including the conjunctions et, pero, mas), and 2nd) Those
in which the pronoun-object in a dependent clause does not
immediately follow the initial word of such clause. Ex-
amples of the second sort are very rare.
The initial word of the dependent clause I shall call the
exordium.1 The most common exordiums are que and si.
The conjunctions et, pero, mas, do not introduce dependent
clauses. This is proved by the fact that in et-, pero- and
mas- clauses the pronoun-object may be enclitic to the verb.
Such enclisis never occurs in clauses introduced by other
conjunctions. At least I have found no example of it in
Castilian.2
For convenience I have divided the exordiums into three
classes, although the division does not represent any funda-
mental distinction as regards the phenomenon of interpolation.
The three classes are : —
1) Que. This includes the conjunction que, simple or
compound (por que, etc.), que with the force of ca
or pues, and the relative pronoun que, subject or
object or following a preposition.
2) Si (dialectal se) in the protasis of conditional sentences.
*I borrow this use of the word from Wackernagel's article, Ueber ein
Gesetz der idg. Wortstellung, Idg. Forsch., I, ss. 333 ff.
2 Dependent clauses introduced by a verb are naturally excluded from
this discussion, as in them the object-pronoun must follow the verb exor-
dium. Interpolation is limited to constructions in which the pronoun
precedes its governing verb.
36 WINTHROP HOLT CHENEEY.
3) Quando (modern spelling cuando) which is employed
to symbolize all exordiums other than que or si,
whether conjunctions, relative pronouns, or relative
adverbs with conjunctional force.1
Still another variety of interpolation is found in the case
of infinitives governed by a preposition. In this construc-
tion pronoun-objects, the negative particle, and adverbs
commonly precede the infinitive, standing between it and
the governing preposition. Pronoun-subjects and other
words occasionally occur in the same position. Thus the
preposition becomes quite parallel to the exordium of a
dependent clause and the same varieties of interpolation are
possible. These cases will be symbolized in the same
manner as the others, por representing any preposition
governing an infinitive.
The Appendix of this article shows all the examples,
in the works or parts of works indicated, of the categories
defined above. Examples of normal order are classed under
the sub-heading a); those of interpolated order, under 6).
Examples of normal order are given only in the three cate-
gories first mentioned above (wow, blen, yo). Nominal and
multiverbal interpolations will be symbolized by two blanks
( — — ). The pronoun-object itself is symbolized by lo,
which will be employed to represent also the combination of
indirect and direct object (ge lo, etc.), as two pronoun objects
form a syntactic unit which is never broken. The categories
of interpolations and exordiums are combined according to
the following scheme, the Spanish words having the symbolic
values defined in the foregoing paragraphs.
1 Occasionally a word-group, having the function of a relative through
the inclusion of quanta, or the like, stands in the place of an exordium.
Interpolations in such cases are classed as anomalous in the Appendix, but
receive special mention in the discussion.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH.
37
SCHEME OF CLASSIFICATION OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
1. a) Que, si, quando non lo. 1)
b) Que, si, quando lo non. 1)
2. a) Que, si, quando bien lo. 1 )
b) Que, si, quando lo bien. 1)
3. a) Que, si, quando yo lo. 1)
b) Que, si, quando lo yo. 1)
4. Que, si, quando lo . 1)
5. Anomalous Examples.
6. Infinitive, a) l)Pornonlo.
b) 1) For lo non.
Que. 2) Si. 3) Quando.
Que. 2) Si. 3) Quando.
Que. 2) Si. 3) Quando.
Que. 2) Si. 3) Quando.
Que. 2) Si. 3) Quando.
Que. 2) Si. 3) Quando.
Que. 2) Si. 3) Quando.
2) For bien lo.
2) For lo bien. 3) For lo
Note. — The material of Nos. 4 (Berceo), 12a (Caza), 13 (Buen Amor),
17 (Filiberto), 19a (Exenp.), 31 (Eufros., Egipc. (Pg.), Traite"), does not
exactly follow the preceding scheme, but is arranged : 1. a) Que non lo.
b) Que lo non. 2. a) Si non lo. b) Si lo non, etc. In some works, also,
examples of category No. 4, Que lo , etc., are combined with the
anomalous examples. This last classification was adopted tentatively dur-
ing the earlier part of the investigation. Later it appeared that the
division into the categories que, si, quando was not organic. Consequently
it seemed best to modify the scheme of classification in such a way as to
give less prominence to these categories.
38 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
CHAPTER I.
INTERPOLATION IN CASTILIAN WORKS OF THE
XII AND XIII CENTURIES.
A.
THE Poema del Cid.
The Cid (Appendix, No. 1) is the only monument of the
XII century of sufficient length to afford material for the
study of interpolation.1 Examination reveals only eight
examples of interpolation, distributed as follows : two of
the type que lo non, one of quando lo non, against nineteen
of que non lo, three of si non lo and seven of quando non lo,
or three to twenty-nine in favor of the normal order for the
first category ; one example of que lo bien to sixteen of que,
si, quando bien lo ; three of que lo yo, one of si lo yo, against
four of que yo lo, one of si yo lo and fourteen of quando yo lo,
or four to nineteen in favor of the normal order ; one anoma-
lous example : qui lofer non quisiesse, v. 2993.2
1 Fragmentary specimens of Spanish of an early date are furnished by the
works named below. For the subject of interpolation their evidence is
entirely negative.
a) J. Priebsch, Altspanische Glossen, Zeitschr. /. rom. Philol., xix, ss.
1-40.
b) Egidio Gorra, Lingua e letteratura spagnuola, pp. 177-180, 183-
184. The fragments of early texts in this work are reprinted from :
c) E. Monaci, Testi basso-latini e volgari della Spagna, raccolti per un
corso accademico sui primordi della letteratura castigliana, con note.
Koma : Tipografia del Senate, 1891.
d ) Misterio de los Reyes Magos, Abdruck von G. Baist. Erlangen, 1887.
2 1 class this as an example of interpolation because proclisis of a pronoun
object with an infinitive when the latter is accompanied by a modal verb,
is abnormal in Old Spanish texts, especially so when the clause is negative.
For the normal order, cf. Cid, v. 619 : Los moros et las moras vender non los
podremos.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 39
The relatively rare occurrence of interpolation in the Old,
when taken together with the small number of examples of
it in most works of the following century, leads one to
suspect that the phenomenon is not a feature of the Cid hi
its original form but is due to later scribes. The metrifica-
tion and text criticism of the Cid are, however, so uncertain
that any attempt to dispose of the interpolations by establish-
ing critical readings with normal order does not seem
warranted. The proportion of interpolated subject pronouns
is much greater than that of examples in other categories
and it is possible that some of these cases may be original.
The earliest authentic case of interpolation that I have met
is of this sort. In a document of the year 12061 there
occurs the following passage : —
en tal guisa que aquellos, vasallo 6 vasallos de la Reyna Dofia Beren-
guela, & que los da ma ml: ire dar, fagan omenexe primeramente, op.
cU., pag. cxxxv, 1. 3.
B.
METRICAL WORKS OF THE xin CENTURY ON
FRENCH MODELS.
1. Vida de Santa Maria Egipdaca (Appendix No. 2). —
In the 1442 verses of this poem there is only one example
of interpolation : —
por poco que se non murien, v. 103,
as against eight examples of the type que non lo, five of
them with the pronoun se. I think we must attribute this
one exceptional case of interpolation to a xiv century copyist.
1 Tratados de Paz entre los reyes Don Alfonso VIII. de Castilla 7 IX. de
Le6n, firmados en Cabreros, Era 1244, afio de 1206, sacados de escritura
original que existe en la Santa Iglesia de Leon. Fray Manuel Bisco, Edr.
Espafia Sagrada, t. xxxvi, ape*nd. Ixii, pags. cxxxii-cxl.
40 WINTHEOP HOLT CHENERY.
2. Libro de Apolonio (Appendix No. 3). — In the first
half of this work, which is all that I have examined, there is
but one example of interpolation : —
Fija, si vos queredes buscarme grant player,
Que vos yo siempre aya mucho que gradecer.
Stz. 166, 1-2.
I incline to think that in this case the copyist anticipated
the words yo siempre and that the original reading was :
Que vos aya yo siempre.1 The poem, moreover, exhibits not
less than twenty-six examples of the categories in which
interpolation normally occurs without a single case of it.2
3. Gonzalo de Berceo (Appendix No. 4). — The extensive
remains of Berceo' s verse afford a wide field for the study
of interpolation. The published text of the seven poems of
Berceo which I have examined, presents fifteen examples
of interpolation, thirteen of non and only two of subject
pronouns. The examples of the type que non lo outnumber
those of que lo non three to one (22 to 7), and those of si non
lo are more than twice as frequent as those of si lo non.s
The only anomalous example is : —
For poco se non riso, tant ovo grant sabor.
Millan 222, 4.
lrThe verse is metrically correct and it is, of course, possible that the
interpolation is original. Another hypothesis is that Que ws yo aya repre-
sents the original order. Interpolation may have begun earlier with nos
and vos than with the other pronouns, since the former do not have distinct
case or stress forms. This will be discussed in another chapter.
2 Brief mention should be made of : El Libro de los Eeyes de Oriente.
Florencio Janer, Poetas Castellanos anteriores al siglo xv. (Bibl. de Aut.
Esp., t. 57), pags. 319-321.
This poem, contained in the same manuscript with Apol. and Egipc., and
written in verse similar to that of the latter, contains no example of inter-
polation, but it is too short to offer evidence of any considerable value.
8 These figures cannot be taken as final. Compare the note on the Kiva-
deneyra edition of the Alexandre in the List of Texts, No. 5.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 41
I incline to attribute to xiv century copyists most of the
examples of the types que lo non, si lo non, in Berceo. For
the examples of the type que lo now I cannot, however,
adduce any argument for a different reading in the original.
Granted the absence of synalepha in Berceo's syllable count,1
the normal or the interpolated order is indifferent to the
metre.
The proportion of cases of the type si lo now is, we have
seen, rather higher than that of que lo non. It seems proba-
ble that some of the former are unoriginal : —
1) Que sis non quisiessen quitar de la follia. — Millan 283, 2.
The first half verse is one syllable short. I should read :
Que si non se quisiessen.
2) Sennor, si nos non sanas, daqui nunqua iztremos. — Millan 327, 1.
Si nos non vales, madre, podemosnos perder. — Loor. 223, 2.
In the two cases above, I think that nos partakes of the
character of a stressed pronoun. It is, then, to be regarded
as a relic of earlier usage before stressed pronouns employed
as objects required the preposition d.
There are only two cases of interpolated subject pronouns
in gwe-clauses, as against thirteen with normal order, and no
case with si as against eight of the type si yo lo. The first
example : —
Lo que lis el difia fa9ieielo probar. Milagr. 725, 3.
should be compared with : —
Que etti les dennasse conseio embiar. Silos 450, 3.
Que elli lis mostrase qual debiessen alzar. Milagr. 307, 4.
En el su amor sancto que el la enjienda. Missa 102, 3.
Que el los absuelva de todos los pecados. Missa 269, 2.
It is apparent that the last two examples lack a syllable.
1 F. Hanssen, Miscel&nea de Versif. Castellana, pags. 6-8 ; Sobre el Hiaia,
etc., pags. 12-14.
42 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
They should also show the form elli which Berceo seems
regularly to have used before a word beginning with I. It
follows that in the interpolated example Berceo wrote que lis
$1, because que eUi lis would have made the half verse too
long, or else, lo quelli lis digia, although we expect him to
avoid the synalepha with que of the last supposition.
The other example of interpolation in the yo category : —
De sendos pater nostres que me vos ayudedes. Missa 297, 3.
occurs in the last stanza of a poem. This stanza, judged
from its content, can hardly be from Berceo' s hand. The
second verse : —
Merpet pido a todos por la ley que tenedes,
with its monosyllabic treatment of ley 1 is, it seems to me,
sufficient proof of its late date.
Berceo contains one, for xin century Castilian, quite
anomalous example of multiverbal interpolation : —
Si me lo la tu grapia quisiesse condonar.
Millan 60, 3.
This verse is metrically perfect and may be compared with
Apol. 166, 2 (see above). I see no way of establishing a
satisfactory reading without interpolation.
4. Libro de Alexandre (Appendix No. 5). — In the List of
Texts I have discussed the question of the original dialect
of this poem. I believe that it has been proved beyond
reasonable doubt that the first Spanish compiler was Berceo,
or, at least, a near contemporary and compatriot. My own
task is to attempt to show that in the original the word-order
was similar to that of other xui century texts and that the
1 J. Cornu, Grey, ley et rey disyllabes dans Berceo, 1' Apolonio et 1' Alex-
andre. Etudes de phonologic espagnole et portugaise, Romania, ix, p. 71
et suiv.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 43
great use of interpolation in the preserved text is only one
feature of the dialect with which the original text is overlaid.
The text, as published, shows twenty-nine examples of the
type que non lo to seven of que lo non ; three of si non lo to
five of si lo non ; and five of quando non lo to six of quando
lo non. The proportionate number of interpolations is thus
much greater than in the text of any xiil century work pre-
senting normal Castilian dialect. Of the twenty-nine cases
of the type que non lo, fifeeen, or more than one-half, are
of the form que nol; only two are of the form que no lo and
there is no example of que no le. In the cases of que nol it
is clear that the Leonese copyist could not substitute interpo-
lation and at the same time preserve the original syllable
count except by writing quel non and this contraction he
seems to have avoided. With the pronoun se, contraction
(que nos) is rare in Alexandre, and it seems not to occur with
me, te. In the great majority of these cases we find the
interpolated order. Se is contracted once with non before a
following le : —
Quenos le retenfe castiello nin piudat. — Alex. 285, 2.
and twice with que in non interpolations : —
Que tal fijo ouies, ques non touies por meior. — Alex. 334, 4.
Lidiaron un gran dia ques non podien uenper. — Alex. 600, 1.
The first of the two examples above has one syllable too
many. The following reading rectifies the metre :
Qui tal fijo ouies, nos touies por meior.
There are three examples of que non se and five of que se
non. SU non in two cases: 133, 4; 205, 4, may be for an
original si nol, given the frequency of que nol, discussed
above.
As between the types quando non lo and quando lo non
the cases are pretty evenly divided. If in the verse : —
44 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
Quien le non obedeciesse farie trayyion. — Alex. 2471, 4.
we suppose the original composer to have written quien not,
the syllable count becomes correct.
Interpolation of adverbs (other than non), entirely absent
in Berceo, is rare in Alexandre, which has twenty-three cases
of adverbs between exordium and pronoun-object and only
four cases of interpolation. The latter are : —
Era muy alegre porque lo assi ueya onrrado. — Alex. 177, 4.
Sert&n mas leales si lo assy fezieres. — Alex. 48, 3.
Ca si lo bien entendiesses, mucho te escarnecen. — Alex. 360, 4.
Sennor, yiegos se uean quantos uos mal jegaron. — Alex. 2488, 2.
The first example is too long ; I suggest : —
Era se muy alegre por quel veie onrrado.
The third example is too long by a syllable. An emenda-
tion, ca sil bien, would support original interpolation. I
prefer to think that the copyist added ca at the beginning of
the verse. In the two other cases above, nothing, as far as
I can see, can be adduced from metrical considerations.1
With the subject pronoun, interpolation in Alexandre is
comparatively frequent. The ratio of the interpolated to the
regular order is eight to thirteen. (Compare two to twenty-
one in Berceo.) The interpolated cases, however, seem to
offer no internal evidence of a normal original.
From our point of view, the most remarkable feature of
Alexandre is the large number of interpolations of a kind
common in western dialects (cf. chap, iv), but anomalous in
Castilian of any period. Thus there are eight cases of multi-
verbal interpolation and three in which non follows the
object-pronoun, although the latter does not stand next to
1 In the fourth example, the only one in Alex, of the adverbmoZ occurring
with pronoun objects, one is tempted to write mal$egaron, treating it as a
formation parallel to maldecir, malquerer, maltratar, etc. The sense, how-
ever, seems to preclude this hypothesis.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 45
the exordium. If Alexandre comes from an Old Castilian
original, the latter can hardly have possessed many of the
class of interpolations which we are now considering. Berceo
has only a single example : —
Si me tola, tu gra9ia quisiesse condonar. — Millan 60, 3.
I think that criticism of these examples of irregular inter-
polation in Alexandre will, in a number of cases, show that
the present form is not original.
1 ) Si lo yo saber puedo non me lo podrfi, lograr. — Alex. 34, 3.
Merely suppressing me in the second half restores the
metre. I propose to read : —
Si yo saber lo puedo non lo podra lograr.
I justify the order Infinitive — Pronoun Object — Modal Verb
by its extreme frequency in Alexandre, Berceo and Old
Castilian generally.1
2) Nuncate fallire" si me tu non fallepieres. — Alex. 362, 3.
This verse can be corrected by reading si tu nomfalleqieres,
but as the contraction nom is uncertain for Berceo and
Alexandre and as the pronoun subject is not expressed in the
first half verse, I am inclined to omit it in the second also,
in which case we have si me non (or with greater probability
si non me) fallegieres. The sense, however, seems to demand
1 Examples are Alex., 3, 1 ; 14, 3 ; 46, 4 ; et passim. Cf. Cid., w. 813.
890, 1071, 1298, 1416, 1620, 1951, 2168, 3011. (See Nils Flaten, The Per-
sonal Pronoun in the Poema del Cid, Modern Language Notes, xvi, col. 72) .
In tliis construction the pronoun object is not attached to the infinitive (as
erroneously indicated in the Gayangos editions by the introduction of a
hyphen), but is the object of the governing verb. This appears plainly
when the phrase is negative : pagar non te lo podria, Alex., 36, 2. Cf.
Alex. 101, 2 ; 145, 2, etc. Berceo, Silos, 132, 4 ; Millan, 50, 4 ; 68, 1,
etc. De$irla non podremos, Silos 33, 4, is an exception and is probably not
original, as the reading of the manuscript collated by Janer is de$ir non lo.
Compare, also, the note on the edition of Fern. Gon$. (List of Texts, No. 6).
46 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
stressed objects. I think we may go still farther and
write : —
A ti non fallir£ si a mi non falleres.1
3) Non tornarie rienda quien se a el llegaua. — Alex. 113, 4.
The first half verse lacks a syllable. The second shows &
before initial I, in which position, as we have seen, Berceo
preferred the form elle or elli.2 The original, then, may
have read somewhat as follows : —
Nunca tornarie rienda qui a elli llegava.
4) Quando se omnes uien catan uassallos e sennores. — Alex. 1666, 1.
I suppress bien and restore normal order as follows : —
Quando omnes se catan uassallos e sennores.
5) Quando la el rey dixo quierolo yo cuntar. — Alex. 1935, 4.
The first half verse, counting rey as two syllables, is too
long. The context (see Appendix No. 5, § 5) seems to
demand quanta rather than quando, in which case la is
superfluous. I propose : —
Quanto el rey dixo quiero lo yo cuntar.
6) Quanto uos omne non podrie dezir nen cuntar. — Alex. 1967, 4.
In this example the first half verse is too long, the second,
too short. I propose : —
Quanto non ws podrie omne dir nen cuntar.3
7) Quellos te non digan en que puede finar. — Alex. 2318, 3.
1 My impression is that fcdlir had simple as well as inchoative forms in
the perfect system, but I cannot now cite any instances.
2 The form elle (in Berceo usually elli) is properly a nominative but
appears to have been used after prepositions as well. Cf. Las oveias con elli
avien muy grant sabor, Silos 20, 4.
3 The existence of an infinitive dir seems attested by the Castilian future
dire, dir-vos-he, etc., but I cannot now cite any examples of the simple
infinitive.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 47
The first half verse is short. If quettoa represents a con-
traction in the original text, I should propose, qu'ettos a ti
non digan, etc., but que ettos non te digan is probably to be
preferred.
The three examples following are anomalous in Castilian,
but find frequent parallels in Galician and Portuguese texts
(see chap. iv).
1) Desque lo uisto ouo nos le pudo ascender. — Alex. 160, 2.
I propose the reading : —
Desque uisto lo ouo l nos pudo asconder.
2) Aqui te merged pedir si tu lo destruyeres. — Alex. 219, 1.
The verse is evidently corrupt. I propose : —
Merced te pedire" si tu lo destruyeres.
Compare : mer$6 te pido, Berceo, Loor. 98, 3. The verse is
uncertain as it occurs at the beginning of a stanza with five
verses and does not seem to connect with the four following
which make a regular stanza.
3) E lo que yo quis nunca lo uos contradixiestes. — Alex. 2120, 4.
The first half verse is short, the second, long. Trans-
fering vos to the first verb and striking out the second lo, we
produce a regular verse : —
E lo que yo vos quis nunca contradixiestes.
If the text criticisms made above are at all tenable, it
follows that interpolation in Alexandre is not sensibly different
from that in Berceo, and that in the transmitted texts of
both, most of the examples of it are due to copyists.
5. Poema de Ferndn Gongdlez (Appendix No. 6). — Inter-
polation is rare in this work. There is in the manuscript
1 For this order cf, did, w. 62, 261, 306, 366, 845, 848, 1075, etc.
48 WTNTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
only one example of interpolated non, Si los non acorryan,
530, 4, as against eleven of regular order (type que non lo
8 ; si 1 ; quando 2). There is no example of interpolation
in the bien category and only one case of an interpolated
subject pronoun: quanta que te yo digo, 238, 3. In the
latter category there are five (accepting Marden's readings,
six) cases of regular order. There are two anomalous
cases : —
1) Que ge la conquerryan mas non lo byen asmavan. — F. Gone. 132, 4.
I should prefer to read mas bien non lo asmavan, or
perhaps, pero bien not asmavan, although the versification
does not demand any change.
2) Sennor, dicho te he lo que te dezir queria. — F. Gone. 344, 1.
Harden emends the verse by striking out te, and inci-
dentally removes the anomalous order.1
C.
MINOR TEXTS OP THE xm CENTURY.
1. El Cantor de los Cantares (Appendix No. 7). — This
xm century Castilian version of the Song of Solomon
presents only two examples of the categories in which inter-
polation usually occurs. The first example, si non te connoces,
cap. 1, v. 7, is regular ; the second, por que nos assi coniurest,
cap. V, v. 9, shows interpolation.
2. The Poeme d'amour, Debat du vin et de Peau, and Dix
commandements (Appendix No. 8 abc), three short composi-
tions preserved in a xm century manuscript, show no
examples at all of interpolation. This might be expected
from the fact that the manuscript seems to have been written
in Aragon.
1 With regard to the position of pronouns in phrases containing infinitives
with governing verbs, see the note above to Alex. 34, 3.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 49
D.
SUMMABY.
In the preceding examination of texts of works of the
XIII century it will have been noted that in them interpola-
tion is relatively rare. I have attempted to prove also that
in the texts in which it is most frequent, many of the cases
of it are not original. It should be noted that interpolation
is most frequent in those texts which exhibit western traits l
and entirely absent in those of eastern (Aragonese) origin.2
It is not possible, however, to maintain that all cases of
interpolation in xm century works are due to copyists,
because one or two cases of it appear in xm century manu-
scripts.3 It was pointed out, also, that the early occurrence
of interpolation of the pronoun subject seems to be better
supported than that of other categories.
lAlex., and to some extent also, Berceo. For traits of western dialect in
the texts of the latter, see Hanssen : Misc. de Versif. OastelL, pdgs. 4r-5.
1P. d?A., Debat, Mand.
3 See note at the end of the discussion of interpolation in the did and
Cant. Cant.
4
50 WINTHROP HOLT CHENEKY.
CHAPTER II.
INTERPOLATION IN CASTILIAN WORKS OF
THE XIV CENTURY.
A.
ALFONSO EL SABIO TO DON JUAN MANUEL.
Although the greater number of the monuments which we
shall study in this chapter belong to the xiv century, the
period embraces documents from the early years of the reign
of Alfonso X (1252-1284). The literary monuments of
Alfonso X and his immediate successors are classed here,
rather than with the xin century texts discussed in the last
chapter, because of their quite different standing in the
matter of interpolation. The Court of Castile in the latter
half of the xin century was, we know, influenced by Gali-
cian traditions. Alfonso X cultivated Galician verse, and it
is probable that most persons at his court were more or less
familiar with the western idiom. To what extent the use
of interpolation in Castilian texts is the result of Galician
influence, it is difficult to say, but the sudden appearance of
interpolation as a regular phenomenon of Castilian writing
in the reign of Alfonso X, compared with its rarity in works
of the period just preceding, points, rather unmistakably as
I think, to an outside influence. I do not believe, however,
that it was merely a literary affectation. The regularity
with which certain categories of interpolation continue to be
employed by all sorts of writers of Castilian throughout the
xiv century, seems sufficiently to indicate that it was, or
had become, a phenomenon of Castilian speech as well.
Even so it may have received its first vogue from imitation
of the Galicianisms of courtiers.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 51
1. Documentos de Alfonso X, A. D. 1253 and 1254
(Appendix No. 9). — Although the order que non lo is still
used in a majority of the cases, yet que lo non also occurs.
There are in the documents examined no examples of inter-
polated adverbs other than non. Que lo yo, on the other
hand, seems to be the regular order, there being four
examples of it and none of que yo lo.
2. Leyenda de los Infantes de Lara. Extract from the
Crdnica General (Appendix No. 10). — The critical text of
the seven chapters examined shows a great preponderance
of interpolations in the non and yo categories, but no ex-
ample in the bien category.1 There are thirteen cases of
interpolated non to three of normal order ; eight of interpo-
lated subject pronouns to six of normal order. Of the six
latter, four are in the category quando yo lo. Interpolation
of the subject pronoun with exordiums other than que, si, is
in general not so frequent. In this regard compare the text
of the Oid. The text of Infantes de Lara shows also eight
examples of nominal and multiverbal interpolation and seven
of anomalous interpolation.
The discrepancies of the eight manuscripts on which the
text is based make the determination of the original status
of interpolation in Infantes de Lara rather difficult. As will
be seen by reference to the notes in the List of Texts (No.
10) there are three groups of texts. The only ones grouped
with E, which the edition mainly follows, are a Galician or
Portuguese version A and a late Castilian copy J. The
latter modernizes at many points and with special frequency
substitutes normal order for interpolated. It cannot be
argued that J is based on an older text with less frequent
1 In this regard Inf. de Lara contrasts strikingly with some other Cas-
tilian texts ; compare, for instance, the occurrence of que lo bien in the text
of the Siele Partidas, treated in the note appended to the discussion of Inf.
de Lara in this chapter.
52 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
interpolations, because once (pag. 221, 1. 11), /has si lo uos
where E and the others have si uos lo.
The groups B and G YTZ are apparently based on texts
with fewer interpolations than EA, although the places
where they all agree in a normal order against the inter-
polated order of EA are not very numerous. Examples are :
que lo non EA, q. n. lo all others (p. 266, 1. 11); ctun qud
ella quiera E, normal order in IBYTGZ (215, 11); que uos
yo diga EA, all others suppress yo (223, 13).
In the case of nominal, multiverbal and anomalous inter-
polations the discrepancies of the manuscripts are much
greater. The only example for which no variants are given
is que uos esta mi carta aduze, 218, 23. In five cases at
least, all other manuscripts agree in having normal orders as
opposed to the interpolations of EA, viz. : p. 228, 1. 10 ;
228, 18; 215, 10; 225, 5; 225, 19. (The variants are
indicated in the Appendix, No. 10, §§ 4 and 5.)
The large number of anomalous and multiverbal interpo-
lations in the text of Inf. de Lara plainly indicate, I think,
Galician influence. Manuscript E must descend from one
written by somebody very familiar with the western dialects.
Whether the original composed for Don Alfonso presented
as many anomalous interpolations is extremely doubtful. In
those cases, at least, where all the other manuscripts except
EA exhibit a normal order, it would seem as if a critical
text should reject the interpolated order. It is possible,
however, that the original was written in Castilian by a
western writer who unconsciously introduced his western
syntax. On this supposition, E, as the oldest text, has pre-
served more of the original interpolations, while the other
later manuscripts represent redactions that tend more and
more to conform to the syntax usual in Castilian, and so
reject the interpolations of a non-Castilian character. It is
difficult to decide between these two hypotheses without
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 53
evidence for or against western influence in the original
drawn from other sources than the observation of inteiv
polation.1
3. Gran Conquista de Ultramar (Appendix No. 11). —
The twenty chapters of this text which I have examined
show only such interpolations as are quite normal for works
of a somewhat later date. In the non category cases are
equally divided between interpolation and normal order.
As the edition seems to be defective in many ways, I do not
think it safe to base any conclusions on the examples of
interpolation which it offers.
B.
DON JUAN MANUEL TO L6PEZ DE AYALA.
1. Don Juan Manuel (Appendix No. 12abc). — In the
works of Don Juan, son of the Infante Don Manuel and
1 1 have not included in the Lud of Texts the greatest monument of the
reign of Alfonso X, the Siete Partidas, as the transmitted text bears rather
the character of a xiv century work than of one of the period of Don
Alfonso. The Siete Partidas were promulgated as the law of Spain first in
1348, and the manuscripts which have come down to us probably represent
redactions of that period. In their use of interpolation the Siete Partidas
stand quite parallel to the works of Don Juan Manuel. Below I give a
summary of interpolations from the beginning of Parlida 1 to Partida I,
Titulo IV, Ley XIV (pp. 1-52). I cite page and line of the edition fol-
lowing : —
Las Siete Partidas del rey don Alfonso el Sabio, cotejados con variog
c&dices antiguos por la Real Academia de la Historia. Madrid : Imprenta
Real, 1807.
1. a) Que non lo : 6, 21 ; 11, 12 ; 54, 6. Si : 23, 14.
b) Que lo non : 13, 2 ; 24, 13 ; 26, 28 ; 28, 8 ; 34, 5 ; 42, 3 ; 52, 2 ;
55, 31 ; 56, 4. Si : 49, 25. Quando : 2, 14.
2. a) Que bien lo : 53, 16.
b) Que lo bien : 5, 11 ; 13, 25 ; 15, 16 ; 42, 2 ; 55, 18. Si : 15, 1.
Quando : 51, 6.
3. a) Que yo lo, etc. : No example.
b) Que lo yo : 2, 18 ; 4, 12 ; 8, 13. Quando : 22, 5 ; 27, 6.
4. Anomalous : quien la bien recibe como debe et la bien guarda, 51, 6.
54
WINTHROP HOLT CHENEBY.
nephew of the Rey Sabio, we can best study interpolation in
Castilian writing of the first half of the xiv century. This
is the classic period of Old Spanish when the literary
language had become more or less fixed through the literary
efforts of the preceding epoch.
With what degree of faithfulness the transmitted texts of
Don Juan Manuel preserve the original word order, it is
difficult to determine, but I am inclined to think that the
proportion of interpolations in the original was much the
same as it is now. The following table exhibits the distribu-
tion of interpolation in the text of the three works examined :
Tabular Summary of Interpolation in Juan Manuel.
NORMAL, ORDER.
Que. Si. Quando.
1. Category non.
INTERPOLATION.
Que. Si. Quando.
Caza 13
3
2
18
Cav. et Esc. 14
4
2
20
Patron. 27
3
3
33
54
10
7
71
2. Category bien.
Caza 8
0
1
9
Cav. et Esc. 5
0
0
5
Patron. 6
1
1
8
19
1
2
22
3. Category yo.
Caza, 1
0
0
1
Cav. et Esc. 6
2
0
8
Patron. 5
1
2
8
12
3
2
17
19
3
0
22
15
4
1
20
32
0
0
32
66
7
1
74
3
0
0
3
6
0
0
6
4
1
0
5
13
1
0
14
0
0
3
3
13
0
2
15
5
0
2
7
18
0
7
25
INTERPOLATION.
4. Nominal and multiverbal.
5. Anomalous.
Caza
6
0
0
6
Cav. et Esc.
0
1
0
1
Patron.
1
0
0
1
7
1
0
8
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 55
It will be noticed that in the non categories interpolation
and normal order are about equal, while with other adverbs
the normal order considerably predominates.
I have not been able to discover that there is any criterion,
syntactical or phonetic, which differentiates the cases of
interpolated from those of normal order. The orders que lo
non and que non lo are used with apparent indifference. Le
before non is regularly contracted with que (quel non), se is
not so contracted (que se non). When le- follows the negative
it is in Don Juan Manuel usually left uncontracted (que non
le). It does not seem that individual adverbs show any
predilection for interpolation. All of them follow or precede
the pronoun object with apparent indifference.
Interpolation of the subject pronoun is much more frequent
than normal order. As has been pointed out, this seems to
be the type of interpolation most prevalent in Castille, and
the one which first makes its appearance. Individual works,
however, show different results; compare in this regard
Juan Ruiz. It should be noted, too, that if Cav. et Esc.
were omitted from the count, normal and interpolated order
would nearly balance in the subject pronoun category. Of
the fifteen subject pronoun interpolations in Cav. et Esc. ten
are of the form: que me vos fazedes (feziestes, preguntades,
etc.). This occurs as a regular formula, there being only
two examples of que vos me.
Of the eight cases of multiverbal interpolation, six are in
Caza and four of them are repetitions of the formula : Los
girifaltes (or neblis, etc.) de que se agora mas pagan. I
suspect that this is a Galicianism borrowed from some older
work on falconry.
There are only three interpolations to be classed as anoma-
lous. One of them : por quantas mergedes le dios feo, Cav.
et Esc. 510, 20, probably belongs in the category of nominal
interpolations as quantas mergedes has the force of a relative
56 WINTHEOP HOLT CHENERY.
exordium. The interpolation in Patron., 69, 9; a quanta
floxa mente voslo d rruega, appears to be a corrupt reading, as
all the other manuscripts agree in rejecting el. This leaves
only one example of anomalous interpolation unexplained :
Et alo que cosa son los angeles, fijo, ya vos yo dixe que ....
Cav. et Esc. 470, 6.
As has been stated, I regard interpolations of other forms
than those included in the first three categories (now, Men,
yo) of my classification scheme as abnormal in Castilian and
as almost certain indication of western influence. I adduce
the works of Don Juan Manuel as representing the norm of
interpolation in Castilian at the time when it had reached its
greatest development.
2. Juan Ruiz, Archpriest of Hita (Appendix No. 13). —
Examination of the diplomatic edition of the Libro de Buen
Amor gives the following results.
In the non category there are forty-four cases of normal
order to thirty-one interpolations, distributed as follows:- —
que non lo 35, si 5, quando 4.
que lo non 26, si 3, quando 2.
Manuscript T shows the interpolated order once where S
has the normal ; manuscript 6r, on the other hand, in eight
instances shows normal order instead of the interpolated
order of 8. The contraction nol for non le, rare in the texts
of Don Juan Manuel, is rather frequent and in some cases
the metre demands nol where non le is written, e. g. :
Achaque le leuanta por que non le de del pan, 93, 2.
Contraction of non se, and possibly also of non me, appears
to be demanded in a number of cases. Cf. 161, 3; 421, 4;
623, 4; 731, 4. Quel non (in Don Juan Manuel regular
for que le non) occurs once (1129, 3) and there is no instance
of que le non.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 57
With other adverbs than wow, the normal order is in a
marked majority (thirty-one cases of normal order to eleven
of interpolated). Three of the latter cases are normal in the
manuscripts GT.
In the category of subject pronouns, the same preponder-
ance of normal order is visible (twenty cases of normal order
to six of interpolation). The proportion of interpolations in
this category as compared with that of the same category in
other texts, seems small, but there is substantial agreement of
the manuscripts, G showing one case of interpolation where
S has normal order.
There are only four examples of the category que lo
(Appendix No. ]3, §§ 10 b and 11) and one anomalous inter-
polation (1482, 2). In three of these five cases of irregular
interpolation G shows normal order.
A critical revision of the text of Buen Amor might change
somewhat the proportions of normal and interpolated order
as indicated above. A rather large proportion of the verses
of the poem are metrically imperfect. Some can easily be
amended ; others require considerable changes in the language
and it seems doubtful whether they formed perfect alexan-
drines in the original. An investigation of the five examples
last mentioned shows that at least three stand in verses
metrically imperfect : —
1) Segund le dios le demostrase fazer senas con la mono, 51, 3.
Evidently one of the le's is to be dropped, and the reading
of G: quales dios les mostrase, suggests that it is the first
one. I amend : Segund dios le mostrase fer senas con la memo.
2) Con lo qud dios diere paselo bien fermoso, 780, 4.
The first half verse is short. Juan Ruiz may have written
que le dios but it is more probable that he wrote que dios le.
3) Quered salyr al mundo aque vos dios fizo nasfer, 917, 4.
The second half verse is too long but is difficult to correct.
58 WINTHKOP HOLT CHENERY.
4) Ssy vos lo bien sopiesedes qual es e quan pre^ado, 732, 3.
This verse is metrically correct but G presents the reading
si vos bien lo.
5) De eso que vos rres9elades ya ws yo asseguro, 1482, 2.
The second half verse is metrically perfect, but G shows the
reading yo uos asseguro. The interpolation in S may be due
to a desire to avoid the concurrence of ya yo.
The foregoing makes it seem probable that in Juan Ruiz,
as in Don Juan Manuel, interpolation was confined to the
three categories in which it is normal in xiv century
Castilian.
Criticism of the cases of pronoun subject interpolation
tends to diminish still further their number, already small : —
1 ) Segund quelo yo deseo .... 684, 3.
2) .... ante quda el asa, 1350, 3.
3 ) .... ante que gelo yo diga, 1497, 2.
4) Pues vos yo tengo, hermana .... 989, 4.
Suppression of the subject pronoun in the four half verses
just quoted makes them regular.
5) Sy vos yo enganare, el ami lo demande, 817, 4.
The reading of G is : sy yo a vos enganare. ... It is possi-
ble to posit an original reading :
Sy a vos engafiare el a mi lo demande . . .
Yo was then added to remove the ambiguity of the first
construction, and finally si a vos yo changed to si vos yo in
order to rectify the metre.
From the foregoing it will be seen that the exact status of
interpolation in Juan Ruiz is rather uncertain. In the trans-
mitted text it is very much less frequent than in the courtly
prose of Don Juan Manuel, and attempts at text criticism seem
to indicate that in the original it was even much less frequent
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 59
than in the . text. As the Archpriest of Hita represents
rather the popular tradition of Castilian than the courtly
idiom of the literary successors of Don Alfonso the Learned,
infrequency of interpolation in his verse may be another
argument for the attribution of interpolation in Castilian to
the influence of western dialects on the court speech. It
should be noted, too, that Juan Ruiz lived in New Castile
and consequently found himself locally removed from the
centres of western influence.
3. Visidn de FUiberto (Appendix No. 17). — In the List of
Texts I have placed this work at the end of the xiv century,
as that is the date of the manuscript and there is no indica-
tion of the time of composition. Found in one of the
manuscripts of Buen Amor, its treatment of interpolation
leads me to class it with that work. The text is too short,
however, and offers too few examples of the interpolation
categories to give much weight to such a determination.
The piece contains no case of interpolation of non, with
three cases of normal order. There are three examples of
interpolated adverbs and five of adverbs in normal order.
Two examples of interpolated subject pronouns occur, and
three of normal order. One nominal interpolation occurs :
sy te dios cn'o, 53, 42.
4. Pero L6pez de Ayala : Rlmado de Palado (Appendix
No. 15). — In chronological order the Poema de Alfonso
Onceno follows immediately upon the Archpriest of Hita,
but the discussion of it will be taken up in connection with
that of the much later Amadis, both works betraying marks
of an original in western idiom.
Of the Castilian writers whom I have examined, L6pez
de Ayala is the latest one that makes any considerable use
of interpolation. He seems to represent the last phase of
the courtly literature which began with the Rey Sabio.
60 WINTHBOP HOLT CHENERY.
In the first five hundred stanzas of the Rimado I find the
status of interpolation to be as follows : In the non category,
nine cases of normal order to three of interpolation ; in the
adverb category, fourteen of normal order to six of interpo-
lation ; in the subject pronoun category, two of normal order
to eight of interpolation ; three cases in the category Que lo
and three anomalous examples.
From the above it will be seen that interpolation pre-
dominates only in the case of the subject pronoun. This, as
has already been pointed out, is the species of interpolation
most general in Old Spanish, Juan Ruiz forming an excep-
tion in this regard.1
The proportion of multiverbal and anomalous interpola-
tions is rather large, but some of these cases are probably
not original and others can be explained.
1 ) Que les yo aqui dire ca los he bien usados, 63, 4.
Suppression of yo corrects the metre, leaving an interpolation
of the ordinary type que lo Men.
2) Salvo obedi'en9ia que les leal deuemos, 236, 4.
Leal uninflected can only be an adverb, and consequently this
example also belongs in the category que bien.
3) Asi les Dios aluengue los dias de las vidas, 229, 3.
The composer probably had in mind a construction asi que
les dios aluengue and omitted que for the sake of the metre.
Dios is the oftenest occurring nominal interpolation and is so
much more frequent than any other that during the earlier
part of this investigation I put it in a category by itself.
1 1 say that this sort of interpolation is the most general, not the most
frequent. As the yo category occurs much less often than the non category,
the actual number of interpolations is usually greater in the latter, but in
most works the ratio of interpolation to normal order is higher in the
former.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 61
4) Alguna peti9ion e la non va recabdar, 412, 2.
The second half verse is too long. If instead of e la we
write que the enjambement with the preceding verse is less
violent and the anomalous interpolation disappears, thus : —
Por ende non se quexe quien a Dios va rogar
Alguna petition que non va recabdar.1
1 Prof. J. D. M. Ford has communicated to me a note of his on another
example of anomalous interpolation in the Rimado : —
Con quien yo me fasta agora de todos defendf, 720, 6.
Professor Ford suggests that the anomalous position of the object pronoun
is due to metrical necessity. It can be contracted with yo (yom), but in any
other position spoils the verse. It seems to me that contraction of me in a
text as late as that of the Rimado would need to be supported by other
examples before it could be accepted. I incline to think that yo in this
verse was merely repeated by a copyist from the preceding verse. Sup-
pressing yo in the second, the two verses read : —
(Pues) a tan alto Sennor yo so acomendado,
Con quien me fasta agora de todos defendf.
The interpolation then remains multiverbal and not anomalous. Professor
Ford's suggestion of metrical necessity remains equally applicable to this
reading also.
I have examined one other work by Ayala, but I do not include it in
the Appendix,, as I have not copied all the occurrences of the several cate-
gories. The edition is entitled : —
El libro de las aves de capa del canciller Pero Lopez de Ayala, con las
glosas del duque de Alburquerque. (Pascual de Gayangos, Edr. ).
Madrid : Sociedad de Bibli6filos, 1869.
In this work the proportion of interpolations seems to be rather higher
than in the Rimado. They are all, however, in the regular categories
(non, bien, yo). The works on falconry seem to be largely copied one from
another, and the greater use of interpolation in the Libro de la Ca$a than
in the Rimado is probably due to portions of it having been adapted from
older works on the subject.
62 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
C.
SUMMARY.
Enough material has, I think, been presented in this
chapter and the accompanying portions of the Appendix to
show the general features of interpolation in xiv century
texts. If interpolation in xiv century Castilian is a feature
borrowed from western dialects, the conditions of its occur-
rence are, at any rate, much more narrowly defined than in
the latter, as may be seen by comparing chapter iv, in which-
Galician and Portuguese texts are discussed. Chapter in
will deal with texts which throw light on the chronology of
the disappearance of interpolation from Castilian.
CHAPTER III.
SPANISH TEXTS OF THE XV AND XVI
CENTURIES.
A.
CASTILIAN TEXTS SHOWING OCCASIONAL INTERPOLATION.
1. ElLibro de Exenplos por A. B. C. (Appendix No. 19). —
Although the Paris manuscript (Appendix No. 19 a) is
considerably more modern than the Madrid manuscript
(Appendix No. 19b) the occurrence of interpolation is sub-
stantially the same in both.
The portion examined of the published text of the Madrid
manuscript gives the following results : In the non category,
eighteen examples of normal order (type que non lo 16, si 1,
quando 1) to two interpolations of the type que lo non; in
the bien category, nine cases of normal order and none of
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 63
interpolation ; in the yo category, five of normal order (type
que yo lo 4, si 1) to one interpolation (type que lo yo). No
interpolation occurs outside of these three regular categories.
In the published portion of the Paris manuscript there
are in the non category twelve cases of normal order (all of
the type que non lo) to five cases of interpolated order (two
of the type que lo non, three of si lo non) ; in the yo cate-
gory, five cases of normal order (que 4, si 1) to one of
interpolated order (type que lo yo) ; one anomalous example.
Contrary to what we should expect, the numerical ratio
of interpolated to normal order appears to be higher in the
more modern Paris manuscript than in the older Madrid
manuscript. If, however, we remove the category si non lo —
si lo non, the ratio becomes nearly equal (for the non cate-
gory, Madrid text 17:2, Paris text 12:2). The Paris text
shows three cases in the si non lo — si lo non category, all
interpolated, while it happens that in the portion of the
Madrid text examined, there is but one case in this category
and that one shows normal order.
As indicated above, the Paris text has one example of
anomalous interpolation : —
Si los non amamos e los non honrramos. — Exenpl. 503, 19.
The interpolation in the first clause is reckoned in the
si lo non category above. The interpolation of the second
clause is, I think, not to be considered as an independent
example of anomalous interpolation, but as a mere repetition
of the word order of the first clause with ellipsis of si.1
2. La Estoria de los Quatro Dotores de la Santa Eglesia
and La Estoria del rey Anemur, do. (Appendix No. 20 ab). —
In the first hundred capita of the first named text, I find :
1 Cf. Quien la bien recibe como debe et la bien guarda. Siete Partidas, 1,
Tit, iv, Ley 6, pag. 51, 1. 6.
64 WINTHEOP HOLT CHENERY.
1st) In the non category, seventy examples of normal order
(fifty-four of the type que non lo) and one example of inter-
polated order of the type que lo non; 2nd) In the bien
category, four of normal order (si 1, quando 3) and one of
interpolated order (type que lo bien) • 3rd) In the yo category,
ten of normal order (que 6, si 4) and one of interpolated
order (type quando lo yo) ; one multiverbal interpolation,
que lo el non.
The one example of an interpolated adverb is only
apparent. Por que lo mal trayesen, 11, 27, should read por
que lo maltrayesen. The only irregular interpolation : maguer
que lo el non quisiese, 47, 5, is rather a combination of the
types que lo yo and que lo non than a multiverbal interpola-
tion in the ordinary sense.
In the JSstoria del rey Anemur, although found in the same
manuscript as the preceding and translated from the same
Latin source, the proportionate number of interpolations is
considerably higher. In the non category there are twenty-
five examples of normal order (que 19, si 3, quando 3) and
three of interpolated (que 1, si 2) ; in the bien category, two
of normal (que 1, quando 1) and two of interpolated, both of
type que lo bien; in the yo category, one of normal order,
commo tu me echaste (363, 41) and three of the type que lo yo.
In this text, just as in the Exenp., there is a greater
tendency to interpolation of non after si lo than after que lo.
In contrast to the use of Exenp. and Quatro Dot., interpola-
tion predominates in the yo category, placing the text in this
regard on a par with most xiv century texts. In view of
so marked a difference in the treatment of the yo category,
it does not seem likely that Barlaam and Quatro Dot. are
the work of the same translator.
3. Leyenda del abad don Juan de Montemayor (Appendix
No. 22). The text taken from Almela's Compendia shows
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 65
four examples of interpolation in the non category, all of the
type que lo non,1 and five of normal order (que 4, si I). In
the yo category there is one interpolation : mejor que lo tu
dizes (12, 10), and no occurrence of normal order.
The text of the popular edition of the legend, printed in
1562, contains no example of interpolation. Que no le
dexasse vivir, etc., pag. 32, 1. 27, is the only passage parallel
to one in Almela with interpolation (e que lo non dexase
bevir, etc., 9, 14 ; vide Appendix). It would be very remark-
able if any cases of interpolation were preserved in a text of
the latter half of the xvi century.
The large number of interpolations in Almela's text can
hardly be a characteristic of his speech, seeing that he flour-
ished in the latter part of the xv century. It seems safe to
assert that they are derived from the source whence he
derived the legend. This source, according to MenSndez-
Pidal, was a prose redaction of an older Castilian epic.
There is nothing in the character of the interpolations which
betrays Portuguese influence. They are all of the types
usual in xiv century Castilian. The number of cases, how-
ever, is rather small to make the argument conclusive.
B.
SPANISH TEXTS OF ARAGONESE CHARACTER.
1. Poema de Jose (Appendix No. 16). — This poem con-
tains no examples of interpolation, although it presents a
good number of occurrences of the regular categories and
particularly of the yo category.
2. Pedro de Luna : De las Consolaciones de la Vida
humana (Appendix No. 18). — In the ten books of this work
1 One of these cases is not taken from the edited text, but from the agree-
ment on it of three manuscripts. — Vide Append.
5
66 WINTHEOP HOLT CHENERY.
examined, I find in the non category eleven examples of
normal order and none of interpolated ; in the bien category,
one of normal and two of interpolated ; in the yo category,
none of normal and two of interpolated.
The occurrence of pronouns, as in most works translated
from the Latin, is rather restricted. At first sight the ratio
of interpolations to cases of normal order seems too large for
a text written in Aragon. It will be seen, however, that all
four cases of interpolation occur in quotations. In these
cases the translator may have availed himself, consciously or
unconsciously, of older Castilian versions of the works quoted.
The two cases of the type que lo bien are both a quotation
from Saint Gregory in the same words : Los males que nos
aqui apremien. The two cases of the type que lo yo are
quoted from the Old Testament (see Appendix).
3. Souhaits de bienvenue, etc. (Appendix No. 23). This
poem is adduced as an example of a text written in Castilian
by a Catalan or Aragonese. It shows no vestige of inter-
polated order, but its evidence for absence of interpolation in
Eastern dialects would be more satisfactory if its date were
earlier.
C.
CASTILIAN TEXTS WITHOUT INTERPOLATION.
1. Comedia de Calisto et Melibea (Appendix No. 24).
2. Juan de Valde"s, Didlogo de la Lengua (No. 25).
3. Lazarillo de Tormes (No. 26).
4. Luis de Le6n, La Perfecta Casada (No. 27).
These texts, covering nearly the whole of the xvi century,
show not a single example of interpolation.1
1 Still earlier evidence for the disappearance of interpolation is afforded
by the following brief text : —
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 67
The Didlogo de la Lengua, however, deserves special
mention because it is probably the first work in which the
phenomenon is noticed. In two places Vald6s mentions
the interpolated order or adduces an example of it,1 and
from these passages we gather that he considered it incorrect
and antiquated.
D.
SUMMARY.
In this chapter an attempt has been made to show that
after the close of the xiv century interpolation becomes very
Libro de Cetrerfa de Evangelista y una Profecia del mismo, con pr&logo,
variantes, notas y glosario por A. Paz y Melia, Zeitschr. f. rom. Phttol., I.
bd., 88. 222-246.
This text is published from a manuscript of the xv century in the Bibl.
Nac. de Madrid. The author flourished in the reign of Enrique IV (1454-
1474). Following are references to the cases of normal order : —
1. Que non lo : p. 233, 1. 21 ; 234, 5 ; 235, 7 ; 235, 16 ; 238, 32 ; 244,
12 ; 244, 30 ; 245, 20. Si non lo : 227, 19. Quando : 235, 11.
2. Que bien lo : 227, 10 ; 227, 21 ; 230, 15 ; 234, 13 ; 234, 15. Si bien
lo : 228, 5. Quando : 227, 18.
3. Que yo lo : No example.
1 " Pues sabed que lo es, por tanto os guardad de caer en el. Y tambien
de caer en otro que es a mi parecer aun mas feo que este, y por esto creo
que son mas los que tropiecan en el ; este es que no pongais el verbo al fin
de la clausula quando el de suyo no se cae, como hazen los que quieren
imitar a los que scriven mal latin.
— Esso nos declarad un poco mas.
— Digo que os deveis guardar siempre de hablar como algunos d&sta
manera : Siempre te bien quise y nunca te bien hize, porque es muy mejor
dezir Siempre te quise bien y nunca te hize 6ten." — Pag. 404, 11. 22-30.
The second passage occurs in a discussion of the style and language of
Amadis de Gaula :
"Pareceme tambien mal aquella manera de dezir si me vos prometeis por
si vos me prometeis, y aquello de lo no descubrir por de no descubrirlo. £ Que
os parece desto ?
— Que lo aveis considerado bien, con tanto que aya siempre lugar la dis-
culpa del antiguedad, la qual vos no le podeis negar deninguna manera." —
Pag. 7, 11. 7-11.
68 WINTHROP HOLT CHENEBY.
rare in Castilian texts ; that in works of the second half of
the XV century we can regard it only as an archaism inherited
from older sources ; l and that in texts of the xvi century
the phenomenon is nearly or quite absent.
Works written in Aragon and its dependencies are grouped
together in accordance with the view developed in chapter n,
that interpolation is a feature of language due to western
influence, one which, for a time, obtained a considerable hold
in Castilian speech but which can hardly have reached the
provinces not in direct contact with the court language of
the kingdom of Castile and Leon.2
1 Amadis de Gaula would naturally fall in this class, but on account of its
very special character in the matter of interpolation, it will be discussed in
connection with Galician and Portuguese texts.
2 Instances of interpolation are not entirely absent from Aragonese texts.
In the Actas del Parlamento de Cataluna, there are a few documents written
in Spanish among a much greater number in Catalan and Latin. The legal
style in which these documents are composed avoids the use of simple per-
sonal pronouns and renders them ill-adapted to the investigation of inter-
polation. I have found only one example : —
Ano de 1409. Convenio celebrado entre don Martin de Arag6n y su
sobrino don Juan 2° de Castilla e mandara so fiertas penas a
los cogedores et arrendadores de la dicha quema que la non lieven nin cox-
gan nin exiguan . . . (Colecc. de Documentos de la Corona de Aragon, t.
I, pag. 100, 1. 17).
The document quoted above is decidedly Castilian in character and may
well be the production of a Castilian secretary.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 60
CHAPTER IV.
INTERPOLATION IN GALICIAN AND PORTUGUESE
TEXTS AND IN SPANISH TEXTS DERIVED FROM
GALICIAN OR PORTUGUESE ORIGINALS.
INTRODUCTORY NOTE.
As this investigation is primarily concerned with interpo-
lation in Spanish, the texts discussed in this chapter have
not been examined with a view to writing the history of
interpolation in Galicia and Portugal. Only enough mate-
rial is presented to illustrate the peculiar characteristics of
interpolation in the western idiom. For the sake of con-
venience and uniformity, the nomenclature and arrangement,
adopted for Spanish texts, are followed here, although in a
treatise on interpolation in Portuguese a somewhat different
classification of material would be preferable. The cases
classed as anomalous in Castilian are in Portuguese and
Galician hardly to be called so, but the designation is allowed
to stand.
A.
OLD GALICIAN AND OLD PORTUGUESE TEXTS.
1. Alfonso (X) el Sabio: Cantigas de Santa Maria (Ap-
pendix No. 28). — In the first fifteen cantigas I find : 1st) In
the non category one case of normal order to three of inter-
polation ; 2d) In the bien category none of normal to five of
interpolated ; 3rd) In the yo category, one of normal, none
of interpolated. So far we might be dealing with almost
any Spanish text of the end of the xm century. In the
next category (nominal and multiverbal interpolation), how-
ever, we meet nineteen cases (que 9, si 2, quando 8). Add
70 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
to these four anomalous cases and it results that there are
twenty-three interpolations of types abnormal in Castilian to
eight of types predominant in that idiom.
Of the anomalous examples, one : —
Por quanto mal nos de buscaua. — Cant, xv, 11, 4.
is probably to be classed under the type quando lo yo. In
another case we find interpolation after et, anomalous in
Castilian but not uncommon in Galician and Portuguese : —
Et se guarida achou. — Vli, 4, 2.
2. Diniz de Portugal, Cantigas d'amor (Appendix No.
29). — Examination of the first fifty cantigas shows : 1st) In
the non category, one case of normal order to fifteen of inter-
polated ; 2nd) In the bien category, seven of normal to six
of interpolated ; 3rd) In the yo category, one of normal to
eleven of interpolated. It will be observed that interpola-
tion of adverbs (bien category) is not so prevalent as that of
non or of the pronoun subject. What is true of this text
seems to be true in general of Portuguese and Galician texts,
the Cantigas of Alfonso X forming an exception in this
regard.
In the category of nominal and multiverbal interpolations
there are thirty-three cases (que 13, si 8, quando 12). Four-
teen more cases of interpolation are classed as anomalous.
We have, then, forty-seven cases of types of interpolation
exceptional in Castilian to thirty-two of the ordinary varie-
ties, a ratio not so high as was found in the Cantigas of
Alfonso X, but still strikingly large.
The examples classed as anomalous may be analysed as
follows. Four of them, viz : —
qual mingua vos pois ei de fazer, v. 4.
quam de cora9om vos eu am' , 72.
com quaes olhos vos eu vi, 483.
e por quam boa vos el fez, 790.
are probably to be taken as having relative exordiums and
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 71
are thus to be referred to the category quando lo yo (except
the first which is rather quando lo bien). In two cases : —
e me bem esforpei, 155.
e m!d nom f&r, 866.
the connective e has the function of an exordium, a phenome-
non common in Galician and Portuguese, but quite anomalous
in Castilian, as was already pointed out in the discussion of
the Cantigas of Don Alfonso. In the remaining examples,
with one exception, the object pronoun follows an adverb.
The adverb pero in three of these cases is not to be confused
with Spanish pero, as it retains its original meaning of per
hoc and presumably also its original accent. One example
still remains to be classed, viz : —
desi nonf o er podedes enganar, 70.
which I am inclined to consider an instance of normal order,
as er or ar seems to be a particle forming an inseparable
compound with the verb. Compare : —
e de v6s nom or ei al, v. 332.
3. Estoria Troyda (Appendix No. 30). — Examination of
nineteen pages of the portions edited by Cornu reveal : 1st)
In the non category, no example of normal order and nine
of interpolated (que 7, quando 2) ; 2nd) In the bien category,
two of type que bien lo, one of si lo bien; 3rd) In the yo
category, two of normal (type que yo fo) and five of interpo-
lated order (que lo yo 3, si 1, quando 1). In the category
of nominal and multiverbal interpolations the number rises
to twelve (que 5, si 4, quando 3). There are two anomalous
interpolations. In both of the latter the object pronoun
follows an adverb which is the initial word of the apodosis
of a conditional sentence.
4. Vida de Eufrosina, Vida de Maria Egipcia, Traite de
Devotion (Appendix No. 31). — These texts exhibit : 1st) In
72 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
the non category, one example of normal order (type quando
non fo) to eighteen of interpolated (que lo non 15, si 1,
quando 2) ; 2nd) In the bien category, three of type que bien
lo to six of que lo bien; 3rd) In the yo category, two of
normal order, type que yo lo, to five of interpolated (que 1,
si 2, quando 2). The proportion of nominal, multiverbal
and anomalous interpolations is not so high as in the other
western texts examined, only eight in all (nominal four,
multiverbal three, anomalous one). This may be due to the
fact of these pieces being in prose while the others are in metre.
In the anomalous example : —
Ay amigos, que mal me ora julgastes, 382, 37.
the object pronoun follows the adverb mal. The tendency
of pronoun objects to attach themselves to adverbs in Portu-
guese has already been noticed.
5. Viaggio fantastico (Appendix No. 32). — This frag-
mentary text shows relations similar to the other Old Portu-
guese texts : i. e. in the non category, no case of normal order
to four of interpolated ; in the yo category, none of normal
to one of interpolated; in the nominal and multiverbal cate-
gory, four interpolations and in the anomalous, one.
The latter : ate que as pessoas as nam queirdo ouvir, 292,
2, exhibits the inversion of pronoun and negative particle,
common in modern Portuguese anywhere except at the begin-
ning of a clause.
B.
NOTES ON MODERN PORTUGUESE TEXTS AND SUMMARY
OF CHARACTERISTICS OF INTERPOLATION IN
GALICIAN AND PORTUGUESE.
Modern Portuguese Texts (Appendix Nos. 33-35). — The
three texts here examined for interpolation are based on oral
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 73
tradition in popular speech, but the usage of modern literary
Portuguese in the matter of interpolation seems not to be
materially different. The relations of interpolation to normal
order and the distribution of categories in modern Portuguese
have no essential bearing on the investigation of interpolation
in Old Spanish. Consequently I shall not here analyse the
material collected. It is enough to point out that interpo-
lation still persists in Portuguese in all the old categories;
and far from losing ground, as Meyer-Lubke seems to imply,1
it appears to be gaining, especially in principal clauses.
Before passing on to the Spanish texts preserving features
of western originals, it will be well briefly to summarize the
main features of Portuguese interpolation. These were
found to be: —
1st) In all periods marked predominance of interpolation
in the non category, leading, in the later texts, to
frequent use of the order lo non even when not in a
dependent clause or when separated from the ex-
ordium by other words.
2nd) Predominance, but to a lesser degree than in the
preceding category, of interpolation in the bien and
yo categories, especially in the latter.
3rd) Extensive use of nominal and multiverbal interpola-
tion, this in marked contrast to Castilian usage.
4th) Numerous cases of interpolation in principal clauses,
in clauses beginning with e, mais, and in dependent
clauses with the pronoun object following some other
word than the exordium. Cases in which the object
pronoun follows an adverb are especially frequent.
1 Zeiischr. f. rvm. PhiloL, xxi, s. 318 : Es ware ein interessantes Unter-
nehmen, nachzuweisen wie viel von den alten Regeln bis heute geblieben
1st, die Ausnahmen in alter Zeit zusammenzustellen und zu erkliiren, die
allmahliche Umgestaltung zu verfolgen.
74 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
Castilian texts, as we have seen, confine interpolation
almost exclusively to the first two categories above, while in
Galician and Portuguese texts a majority of all the interpo-
lations are apt to be found in the third and fourth categories
above. I think, then, that we shall be justified in holding
a large number of examples in a Spanish text, falling under
three and four above, as an indication of an original in west-
ern speech or, at least, of a writer more familiar with western
dialects than with Castilian.
CASTILIAN TEXTS TRANSCRIBED OR COMPILED FROM
WESTERN ORIGINALS.
1. Poema de Alfonso Onceno (Appendix No. 14). — Exam-
ination of the published text of this work reveals : 1st) In
the non category, one case of normal order to eighteen inter-
polations (type que lo non 14, si lo non 4) ; 2d) in the bien
category, eight cases of normal order (all of type que bien lo)
and fourteen of interpolated (type que lo bien 4, si lo bien 8,
quando lo bien 2) ; 3d) In the yo category, three of normal
order, type que yo lo, and two of interpolated, type que lo yo •
4th) Thirty-four nominal and multiverbal interpolations (que
11, si 20, quando 3); 5th) Eleven anomalous interpolations.
The noteworthy fact to be gathered from the preceding
summary is that forty-five, or a majority, of all the interpo-
lations are in the last two categories, while only thirty-four
are in the three categories which normally admit interpolation
in Castilian. Of the thirty-four nominal and multiverbal
interpolations only three are combinations of two of the three
regular types : si le bos non 1198, 4 ; 1350, 4; si nos el non
1298, 4. In four other cases, namely, 900, 4; 1955, 4;
2199, 4; 2339, 2; the interpolation consists of the words
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 75
muy bien. All the remaining interpolations certainly contain
words with full stress. In five of the eleven cases of
anomalous interpolation, the pronoun object follows the
word todos; in four cases, an adverb (nunca, ayna, luego,
sienpre). In two of these cases, todos follows the exordium
of a dependent clause ; the other cases are in principal
clauses. It was noticed in the general characterization of
Galician-Portuguese interpolation above, that attachment
of the object pronoun to adverbs was frequent, both in
principal and dependent clauses. The verses : —
El fijo de Santa Maria
Le non mostr6 atal plaser, 1588, 3-4.
both contain one syllable too many, and the construction
with unstressed le at the beginning of the verse seems
improbable either for Castilian or Galician.
2. Amadis de Gaula (Appendix No. 12 a). — Examination
of the first twenty chapters of the First Book shows : 1st)
In the non category, thirty cases of normal order (que 25,
si 2, quando 3) and sixty of the interpolated (que 42, si 18) ;
2nd) In the bien category, forty-three of normal order (que
40, si 2, quando 1) and nineteen of interpolated (que 16, si
1, quando 2) ; 3rd) In the yo category, twenty-nine normal
(que 26, si 1, quando 3) and twenty-one interpolated (que 8,
si 9, quando 4) ; two cases of nominal interpolation (type si lo
— ), seven of multiverbal (que 5, si 2) and four of anomalous.
Interpolation preponderates only in the non category. Just
as in Alfonso Onceno, si is followed by interpolated order
almost to the exclusion of normal order. Only one of the
multiverbal interpolations is a combination of two simple
types : que lo yo no, 28, 1, 24. Of the four anomalous
interpolations, one is an interpolated infinitive : que las
defender pueda} 32, 2, 32 ; one is in a dependent clause with
the object pronoun following an adverbial phrase, si a mi
76 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
grado lo vos sabreis, 19, 1, 21 ; the remaining two are in
principal clauses, one following an adverb, agora me no pesa,
34, 1, 14, the other the coordinating conjunction o, 6 me ih
guiards, 39, 2, 33. The three last are interpolations of
types very common in Portuguese, as we have seen.
If interpolations, and especially interpolations of western
type, do not predominate in the text of Amadis as they do
in the earlier Alfonso Onceno, we may attribute the fact to
the castilianizing hand of Montalvo. Rather it is very
remarkable that so many of them have been preserved by so
late a Castilian redactor. As noted in the preceding chap-
ter, they attracted the attention of Juan de Vald6s.
Turning to Las Sergas de Esplandidn (Appendix No. 21b),
Montalvo's sequel to Amadis, we find only one interpolation
in the first ten chapters, although there are forty-one cases of
the three regular interpolation categories. The one example
of interpolation is multiverbal and is probably a literary
affectation, viz. : que nos, por bien y reparo de los suyos, suele
dar semej antes azotes, 412, 2, 41.
Comparison of Las Sergas with Amadis proves beyond a
doubt that the latter was compiled from an original with
frequent interpolation. The number of interpolations in the
nominal, multiverbal and anomalous categories, while not so
large as it must have been in the Portuguese original, is still
too large to have been derived from a Castilian original with
interpolations of normal Castilian types.
CHAPTER V.
PRONOUN ORDER IN LATIN TEXTS.
[This chapter, dealing with Pronoun Order in the Vulgar
Latin of the Peregrinatio S. Silviae and of certain Hispanic
Latin texts found in the Espafta Sagrada, it has seemed best
to omit in the present publication.]
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 77
F»ART TWO.
THEORETICAL DISCUSSION.
INTRODUCTORY NOTE.
The theoretical exposition of interpolation presented in the
following pages is not intended as a final solution of the
problem. The paucity of scientifically coordinated data on
problems of word order in the Romance Languages exacts
that any theoretical exposition like the following be regarded
as merely tentative.
CHAPTER VI.
THEORY OF PRIMITIVE ENCLISIS OF OBJECT
PRONOUNS.
I shall discuss in this chapter the theory of the position of
enclitic words, advanced for ancient Indo-European languages
by Wackernagel 1 and Delbriick 2 and applied to Vulgar
Latin and primitive Romance dialects by Thurneysen 3 and
Meyer-Liibke.4
1 J. Wackernagel : Ueber ein Gesetz der idg. Wortstellung. Idg. Forsch.
I. ss. 333-436.
2B. Delbriick : Vergl. Syntax der idg. Sprachen. I. Bd., s. 475; in.
Bd., ss. 41, 50.
8 R. Thurneysen : Zur Stellung des Verbums im Afrz. Zeitschr. f. rom.
Phil. xvi. ss. 289-307.
4 W. Meyer-Liibke : Zur Stellung der tonlosen Objektspronomina.
Zeitschr. /. rom. Philol. XXI. ss. 313-334. Grammatik der rom. Sprachen. ill.
Bd., ss. 764 ff.
Just as the galley proofs of this article are going back to the printer, my
attention has been called to the following work : Elise Richter, Zur Ent-
wicklung der rvmanischen WortsteUwng aus der lateinischen ( Halle a. S. : Max
78 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
Briefly stated, and omitting details irrelevant to our dis-
cussion, the theory is as follows. The first word of a sent-
ence or clause is strongly stressed. Unstressed words, i. e.
particles and pronouns, tend to become enclitic to the first
stressed word (exordium) of the clause, and this, because the
rhythm of speech causes the weakest accent of the clause to
be found immediately after the strongest. Hence the weak-
est words naturally gravitate to the position immediately
after the initial accent of the clause, the first stressed word.
According to this theory the pronoun objects were always
enclitic in Latin and generally enclitic to the initial word of
the clause. The change from the enclitic position, postulated
for Vulgar Latin, to the proclitic position with the verb,
observed in the Romance Languages, is accounted for by the
shifting of the position of the verb from the end of the clause
to the second place. This shift of the verb is held to be due
to analogy with esse, which in classical Latin preferred the
second place. Habere, reduced to the function of an auxili-
ary, naturally fell into the same category with esse. Second-
place position of the verb, made common through the increas-
ing use of compound tenses (perfects and passives), then
became generalized for all verbs. From this it resulted that
the verb came to stand immediately after the pronoun object,
enclitic to the first member of the clause. The close syntac-
tical connection of verb and object then caused the pronoun
to be regarded as proclitic to its verb rather than enclitic to
the preceding word, and in this way grew up the inseparable
connection of verb and unstressed pronoun object, general in
the Romance Languages.
Niemeyer, 1903). I find no reference to interpolation in this work, but I
discover that in the criticism of the Thurneysen and Meyer-Liibke theories
of Romance word-order, discussed in this chapter, the author has antici-
pated me on a number of points ; notably in rejecting the theory of strong
stress on the initial word of a sentence or clause in Latin (op. cit., ss.
38 ff. ), and in postulating for the Romance sentence or clause a strong end
stress (ss. 83 ff.).
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 79
The interpolated order, found in Portuguese and Old
Spanish, is regarded as a striking confirmation of the theory
of original enclisis of the object pronoun. Meyer-Liibke has
no hesitation in pronouncing it a relic of the original order,
universal in Vulgar Latin. In spite of the fact that so
eminent a scholar as Meyer-Liibke regards the argument
for original enclisis in Vulgar Latin as conclusive and " in
die Augen springend," I think that it can be shown to be
open to several objections.
In the first place, the theory postulates a strong initial
stress. Are we justified in assuming that in Classic and
Vulgar Latin the first word of a sentence or clause was
specially emphatic or stressed ? Latin phonology has demon-
strated that in prehistoric Latin the first syllable of a word
bore the main stress, and the treatment of initial syllables in
Romance phonology shows that after the stress in Latin was
shifted towards the end of the word the initial syllable con-
tinued to preserve a secondary stress. This may be a reason
why unstressed words are avoided after a pause. On the
other hand it hardly seems probable that et, uel, si, ne, and
other monosyllables, used freely to introduce clauses, were
often stressed. There seems to be no inherent rhythmical
impossibility in beginning a clause with any weak word. If
certain classes of weak words are always used as enclitics, I
think it is due to inherited habit rather than to rhythmical
necessity.1
It seems to me, also, that the radical difference between
the early Latin accentuation with initial stress and the
1 The unstressed pronoun continues to be avoided after a pause until late
in the Romance period, but the article, an unstressed word of later form-
ation, knows no such rule. Prevalence of initial stress in primitive Latin
might engender a kind of trochaic sentence rhythm unfavorable to initial
use of weak words. In English and German, however, although the word
stress is prevailingly initial, all sorts of weak words (articles, prepositions,
conjunctions) are used after a pause with entire freedom.
80 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
Classic and Vulgar Latin stress, always on the penult or
antepenult, ought to be considered. The later accentuation
seems to be more favorable to the development of proclisis
than of enclisis. When in the Romance languages two
stressed words are brought into close syntactical connection,
it is always the first that suffers diminution of its stress, e. g.,
vuestro hermdno but hermdno vuestro, bu£n amigo but amlgo
bueno, hemos de habldr and hablaremos (habldr hemos}.
Evidence of the same tendency in Latin is probably to be
seen in the formation of improper compounds such as pater-
familias, iusiurandum, etc. When today the priest pro-
nounces the liturgical salutation as Dbminus vobiscum, he
is probably following ancient usage, although logically he
ought to say Ddminus vobtecum, The Lord be with you. The
Gregorian chant seems to me to be another evidence of
tendency in later Latin to throw the stress on the final part
of a word group, for I think that, in Latin, musical accent
and expiratory stress went together. In the Gregorian
tones, the level intonation of the colon with a musical
cadence on the final stress group, is, I think, merely a fur-
ther development of the phrase accent employed by the
Romans in reading and reciting. Something very like it is
observable in the cries of Spanish street venders.
I have discussed at some length the tendency of Latin and
Romance to shift the stress from the first to the last part of
a phrase or word group, that is, a tendency away from
enclisis and towards proclisis, because to my mind it proves
that there is no inherent reason why pronouns in Latin
should be enclitic rather than proclitic. If pronouns in
Latin continued to be prevailingly enclitic, it must have
been due to inherited custom.
An extended investigation of the position of pronoun
objects in Latin does not fall within the scope of this
article. As far as I have been able to observe, however, it
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 81
does not seem to me that, either in Classical Latin or in
texts of a Vulgar type, pronoun objects have any such un-
mistakable tendency to follow the first member or stressed
word of a clause as to warrant the statement that this position
is the regular one and that the pronouns are always enclitics.
If enclisis, and especially enclisis to the first member of the
clause, was a universal trait of Vulgar Latin, it is rather
remarkable that neither in the oldest monuments nor in the
multifarious dialects of Romance is there any occurrence of
interpolation of which we have any notice, except only in the
Iberian Peninsula.
From the general usage of the older forms of the Romance
Languages, all of which agree in making the pronoun enclitic
whenever the verb is the first member of the clause, we
should expect Vulgar Latin also to avoid placing the un-
stressed pronoun in initial position.1 Further than this we
can hardly go.
The testimony of Portuguese and Old Spanish word order
for universal enclisis in Vulgar Latin is rendered weaker by
another consideration. In these idioms, the pronoun object,
when separated from its verb, almost invariably follows the
exordium of a dependent clause. Now these exordiums, in
most cases, can hardly be other than words with weak stress.
1 A number of early Latin hymns begin with object pronouns, e. g., the
compline hymn : —
Te lucis ante terminum
Rerum Creator poscimus,
but in these cases the pronoun is probably stressed, as there is always a
vocative or accusative noun in apposition.
Avoidance of proclitic pronouns at the beginning of a clause is, we have
said, a phenomenon of customary usage, not of rhythmical necessity. The
definite article, proclitic in every Romance idiom except Roumanian, shows
from its phonological development that it was just as much an unstressed
word as the object pronoun, but there was no hesitation in using it at the
beginning of clauses.
6
82 WINTHEOP HOLT CHENERY.
Like personal pronouns, they have no independent existence
but occur only in close connection with other words. Per-
sonal pronouns are symbols standing for names easily
inferred ; similarly, exordiums of dependent clauses are
symbols of readily inferred relations. In neither case is
stress logically necessary. In Portuguese the object pro-
noun frequently follows e(t), mais, copulative conjunctions
which must be regarded as among the weakest of all words.1
The point I wish to make is that the exordium, being
commonly a word with weakened stress and standing very
often after a pause, logical or respiratory, partakes of the
nature of a proclitic rather than an enclitic, especially in
the Romance sentence with its tendency to ascending rhythm,
already discussed. If it be granted, then, that the sentence
rhythm of Vulgar Latin was such as to favor the formation
of proclisis rather than enclisis and that in dependent clauses
the verb was more strongly stressed than the exordium, it
will scarcely be granted that the object pronoun was always
enclitic to the exordium rather than proclitic to the verb.
Another argument for the proclitic character of the pro-
noun object in primitive Romance is to be found, I think, in
the word order observed when the verb is accompanied by
the negative non. The order Negative — Pronoun — Verb is
well-nigh universal in the Romance Languages. The nega-
JMeyer-Lubke (Zeitsch. f. rom. Philol., xxi, s. 320) obviates this diffi-
culty by assuming that que after a pause had a secondary stress, strong enough
to attract an enclitic pronoun. Et, on the other hand, was, in his view,
entirely unstressed, but itself was enclitic to the last word of the preceding
clause. Modern Spanish y for older e offers evidence of the enclitic char-
acter of the conjunction.
As Meyer-Liibke suggests, modern y may have developed from e in such
collocations as padre e madre, but when it is used to connect clauses there
must commonly be some pause, and, in any case, the conjunction belongs
to the second clause ; it cannot then be enclitic. No Old Spanish poet ever
thought of ending a verse with e(f), but as a verse beginning it is common
enough.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 83
tive is a word tending to weakened stress, but unlike the
personal pronouns is not entirely unstressed. The fact that
in cases with pronoun objects, it does not stand next to
the verb, in spite of its close syntactical connection with the
latter and of the universal tendency of the Indo-European
languages to place it in direct connection, shows that the
weaker pronoun is proclitic. On the hypothesis of enclisis
the pronoun would either follow the verb or seek the support
of some other word stronger than the negative. If the
pronoun was always enclitic in vulgar Latin, we should
expect to find vestiges of one or both of the arrangements
just defined in other Romance idioms than Portuguese and
Old Spanish and there, not alone in dependent clauses but
in others as well.1
Still another mode of approaching the question of original
enclisis or proclisis in Vulgar Latin and primitive Romance
personal pronouns is afforded by the phonetic development
of the pronouns themselves in the several idioms. Here
again the evidence for universal enclisis in Vulgar Latin is
entirely inconclusive. The best case for enclisis in the pro-
noun can probably be made from the comparison of the
article il(le) = Span, el with the pronoun (it)lu(m) = Span. lo.
The preservation of the initial vowel in the proclitic article
1 1 infer that the negative commonly bears some stress from the fact that
in languages where it has been weakened to a mere enclitic or proclitic it is
usually reinforced by the addition of another word. Spanish and Italian
preserve the Latin negative intact ( the former merely dropping the final
consonant) and express negation without the concurrence of any other
word. The French, on the other hand, have to say: je n'aimepas, etc.
In English not is reduced to an enclitic and then, except with auxiliary and
modal verbs, strengthened by a periphrastic conjugation with do, the latter
having the value of a negation only. I don't see him or I see him not (cf.
German : Ich sehe ihn nicht). The second order shows, besides, that the
negative has stronger stress than the pronoun object, since the weaker word
will naturally stand nearer to the stressed verb, just as in the Romance
order : el padre no lo re.
84 WINTHEOP HOLT CHENERY.
seems to be due to the secondary stress in initial syllables,
and the second vowel falls, as it commonly does in non-initial
pretonic syllable. Compare ille cdttus, \llu(m) cdttu(m) Span.
el goto with fbllicdre Span, holgar, cdllocdre Span, colgar. If
the article did not receive secondary initial stress, as when a
preposition preceded, then both vowels might be lost, as in
d(d) ittu(m) m6nte(m) = Span, al monte. In the pronoun
illu(m\ on the other hand, the initial vowel is treated like
the penultimate vowel of a proparoxytone. Compare amdte
illu(rn) = Span, amadlo (Old Span, also amaldo), amdtis
illu(m) = Old Span, amddes lo, with m&sculum Span, muslo.
In spite of the apparent evidence for enclisis to be drawn
from the preceding argument, I think that further consider-
ations will show that lo is not necessarily an enclitic form.
We have seen that in the older Romance idioms, and probably
also in Vulgar Latin, unstressed pronouns never begin a
clause. From this it follows that forms with initial sec-
ondary stress are never necessary. Illu(m) as pronoun
object and preceding the verb must, then, always stand
between words with stronger stress than its own. If it is
proclitic to its verb, the position of its vowels is quite par-
allel to the intertonic vowels of a word with three pretonic
syllables. Both of the vowels may fall, as hi Old Span, ribl
v&o (nbn ittu(m) video) ; compare Ital. parlare from p&rabo-
Idre; or only one of them as in Span, no lo veo ; compare
eabalgar from c&ballicdre. In the latter case, the final
vowel is more likely to be preserved than the initial, because
of the analogy of (il)lu(m) derived from the enclitic position
of the pronoun with verb exordium.1
1 A. Mussafia, in a note entitled Endisi o proclisi del pronome personale
qual oggetto in Romania, xxvn, pp. 145-6, discussing the theory of original
vulgar Latin enclisis of pronouns as maintained by Meyer-Liibke, similarly
arrives at negative results, after examining the phonetic evolution of
object pronouns in Old French and Provencal.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 86
The argument might be extended to other cases, but
probably enough has been said to show that no conclusive
argument for general enclisis of pronoun objects in Vulgar
Latin can be drawn from phonetic considerations. From
all that has been advanced in the preceding paragraphs, I
think it will be safe to revert to the doctrine, not questioned
until the appearance of Thurneysen's article, that ever since,
in Romance speech, object pronouns have been placed before
the verb, they have been prevailingly proclitic to the latter.
CHAPTER VII.
ENCLISIS OF OBJECT PRONOUNS IN PORTUGUESE.
In the preceding chapter I developed certain arguments
tending to show that pronoun objects preceding the verb in
Vulgar Latin and Romance are generally proclitic to the
verb, not enclitic to some preceding word. From that dis-
cussion I omitted reference to the Galician-Portuguese idiom
because I believe that in it different conditions prevailed.
Several considerations make me think that here the
unstressed object pronoun was prevailingly enclitic. The
proofs which I shall advance are not, however, based on
a statistical examination of a large number of Galician and
Old Portuguese texts. All the matters which I treat iu this
chapter need further investigation.
The fact that in Old Portuguese (I shall use the term to
include Old Galician also) the object pronoun is always
enclitic to an initial verb cannot be adduced as an evidence
of pronominal enclisis, because, as we have seen, the phe-
nomenon is general in Romance, but the fact that Portuguese
still observes this order, whereas most other Romance idioms,
including Castilian, either disregard it or observe it only in
86 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
certain special categories, seems to show that a greater
tendency to enclisis inheres in the Portuguese pronoun.
It is my impression also that in Old Portuguese there is a
much greater tendency than in Castilian to make the pro-
noun object enclitic to the verb in principal clauses when
the verb is not the initial word of the clause. This order
is not infrequent in the older Spanish texts. After a time
it is in the latter limited to cases where the verb is in a
historical tense, and becoming more and more infrequent,
comes at last to be a mere literary affectation. In Portu-
guese, on the other hand, the phenomenon is much more
persistent. This sort of enclisis is especially frequent in the
first books of Amadis de Gaula and is, I think, still another
proof of their Portuguese origin.
One main objection to the enclitic theory lies in the fact
that in Portuguese, as in other Romance idioms, the un-
stressed pronoun object in principal negative clauses usually
stands between the negative particle and the verb. On the
theory of enclisis and granting that the negative adverb is a
word with weakened stress, we should expect the pronoun
either to be enclitic to the verb or else enclitic to the sub-
ject or other preceding stressed word, the negative being
interpolated. In point of fact interpolations of nao in
principal clauses are found in all periods of Portuguese
but rather more commonly in modern than in ancient texts.
That this is not the prevailing order may be due to the
analogy of negative sentences with unexpressed subject,
especially negative imperative sentences, e. g. Nao me disse ;
nao me digas. Why in these phrases the pronoun, if naturally
enclitic, did not attach itself to the verb still needs to be
explained.
It was pointed out in the preceding chapter that the con-
finement of interpolation to dependent clauses, far from being
a proof of original enclisis, as might be inferred from Meyer-
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 87
Liibke's arguments, is rather an objection to that theory. If
then, we are to establish a theory of pronominal enclisis for
Portuguese, it will be necessary to discover whether there is
any evidence of a freer use of interpolation in earlier stages
of the language and what causes operated to limit it almost
exclusively to dependent clauses in the period covered by the
texts.
Object pronouns are not enclitic to the verb in dependent
clauses not beginning with a verb either in Portuguese or in
Castilian.1 Enclisis to the verb being forbidden, it follows
that if a tendency to enclisis is present, the pronoun object
must seek the next strongest word. It happens, however,
that in perhaps a majority of dependent clauses containing an
object pronoun, there is no other word except the exordium.
Another frequent case is when the only other word is the
negative particle or a subject pronoun, both words with com-
paratively weak stress, and in this case, also, the enclitic
naturally gravitates to the exordium. The extreme fre-
quency of the junction of exordium and object pronoun,
brought about in the ways just described, tends to establish
the same order in the other dependent clauses, although in
ll have not been able to discover any satisfactory explanation of this
restriction. There seems to be a tendency in Old Portuguese and in Old
Spanish, especially in the former, to put the verb at the end of dependent
clauses, and I do not believe that this tendency is merely the result of an
affectation of Latin constructions. The Hispanic Latin texts, however, as well
as some other Vulgar Latin documents, seem rather generally not to remove
the verb to the end of a dependent clause. Hence the end position of the
verb seems rather an innovation than an inheritance of Latin order, and it
cannot be argued that avoidance in the same Hispanic texts of enclisis to
the verb is a result of end position. I can understand the avoidance of
enclisis to the verb in dependent clauses only on the supposition of universal
proclitic position in primitive Romance except in the case of initial verb.
Pronouns enclitic to non-initial verb in principal clauses, common in Old
Spanish and Old Portuguese, are then to be considered as extensions of the
order observed with initial verb, not relics of a primitive enclisis.
88 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
these the exordium does not come next to the verb in point
of stress. This is particularly the case with conditional
clauses containing adverbs. It is noticeable, however, that
in this category interpolation never became general, and we
may, perhaps, assume that in some former period of the lan-
guage the object pronoun was usually attached to the adverb
rather than to the weaker exordium. Especially noteworthy
in this regard are the cases of interpolation, rather numerous
in Old Portuguese texts, in which the pronoun object follows,
not the exordium, but an adverb or other stressed word
standing in the first part of the dependent clause. These, I
think, offer strong evidence of enclisis.
Nominal interpolations, on the other hand, are unfavorable
to the theory of enclisis. The subject, noun or demonstra-
tive, must logically have greater stress than the exordium,
and consequently ought to be preferred by enclitics. If, in
this category also, the pronoun object tends to attach itself
to the exordium, then it is by analogy with the frequent
junction of exordium and pronoun in other forms of depend-
ent clause discussed above. To discover whether nominal
interpolation predominates in Old Portuguese and whether
there has been any change in this regard in Modern Portu-
guese would require a special investigation not falling within
the limits of the present one.
Whether the arguments contained in the preceding para-
graphs have made the theory of enclisis of the object pronoun
in Portuguese seem probable, I do not know. To my mind,
however, this theory explains all the facts better than any
other. If a tendency to enclisis in the Portuguese pronoun
be granted, the next question to be raised will be whether
this tendency is one inherited from Lusitanian Latin or one
developed at a later period. This also is not a question to
be decided without special investigation, but I incline to the
second hypothesis. The proclitic position of the pronoun in
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 89
a great many constructions, especially the order in negation
(iido me disse), and the proclitic definite article point to a
general agreement with other Romance dialects during the
earlier period. The change from procliticism to encliticism
I regard as due to the growth of a peculiar word stress,
differentiating Galician and Portuguese from the other dia-
lects of the Iberian Peninsula. This probably coincided
with the remarkable phonetic changes which took place
before the appearance of vernacular writing. These changes,
weakening and fall of medial I and w, weakening and inter-
change of intertonic vowels, and apocopation of vowel of
unstressed words, when all taken together, predicate the
development of expiratory word stress. This sort of stress,
we know, is still characteristic of Portuguese at the present
time and stands in marked contrast to the combination of
moderate stress and strong pitch accent which characterizes
the word and sentence emphasis of modern Spanish.
It remains to show what connection there is between
enclisis and proclisis, on the one hand, and expiratory stress
and tonal accent, on the other. Tonal accent tends always
to fall near the close of a breath group, in Greek, Latin, and
Romance on one of the three final syllables. If the accent
is, for any reason, emphasized, the final syllable following
the accent is prolonged. This phenomenon is observable in
all forms of chanting, in street cries, and in Spanish in any-
thing called or cried out. As explained in the preceding
chapter, stress and accent of this sort favor the development
of proclisis and also the development of sentence accent at
the expense of word accent. With the development of
expiratory stress the breath is less economized. Each longer
word generally becomes the center of a distinct stress group.
The strong expiration accompanying each stressed syllable is
made at the expense of the syllables that precede and follow
in each stress group, but especially of those that follow, since
90 WINTHROP HOLT CHENEKY.
before reaching them most of the breath impulse has already
been spent. From what has been said, it follows that the
weakest positions in a sentence composed of stress groups are
those following each stress. The unstressed pronoun objects
as among the very weakest of all words will naturally be
relegated to these positions ; in other words, they will become
enclitics.1
CHAPTER VIII.
THEORY OF INTERPOLATION IN CASTILIAN.
The theory of enclisis, developed in the preceding chapter
as explaining in part the phenomenon of interpolation in
Galician-Portuguese, is, I think, quite inapplicable to the
same phenomenon in Castilian. On this account I have
throughout the present investigation everywhere carefully
abstained from employing the words enclisis or enclitic in
connection with interpolated order in Castilian texts.
I believe that in all Castilian dialects the conditions of
word stress, word intonation and sentence accent were those
normal in Romance idioms and all tending, as explained in
Chapter VI, to the development of proclisis. I shall try to
show, also, that these normal conditions persisted in Old
1 Goncalves-Vianna, to whom we owe nearly all that has yet been done in
the field of Portuguese phonetics, considers the unstressed pronoun as always
enclitic in modern Portuguese pronunciation. The following note, which I
owe to the kindness of Professor Ford, is taken from : —
R. Goncalves Vianna, Portugais : Phonetique et Phonologic (Skizzen leben-
der Sprachen, hrsg. v. W. Victor, II. Bd. ), Leipzig, 1903.
Page 91 : "Tous les pronoms regimes dont nous venons de parler sont
atones ; aprSs le verbe ils sont enclitiques ; devant le verbe ils le sont
e"galement, par rapport au mot qui les precede imme'diatement. Jamais ils
ne sont proclitiques, et c'est pour cela qu'ils ne sauraient commencer une
phrase."
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 91
Spanish as they still persist in the modern idiom, and that
pronouns in interpolated constructions lose little or nothing
of their proclitic character. My contention, then, is that the
problem of interpolation in Old Spanish resolves itself mainly
into one of relative order among words of weak stress.
The main proof of the proclitic character in Old Spanish
of the object pronoun preceding its verb, whether immediately
or not, will be drawn from considerations based on word
order. Apart from these, however, the morphology of the
Spanish pronouns gives, I think, some indication of their
prevailingly proclitic character. In the oldest texts we meet
a number of apocopated forms (/, s, and more rarely w, t, for
le (lo ? ), se, me, te). In enclitic position after a vowel the -e
of these pronouns falls in the same way that -e falls in most
other words after a single consonant. These shortened forms,
primarily enclitics to the verb, are used also in certain pro-
clitic positions. It is noteworthy, however, that they do not
persist but are, by the end of the xiv century, superseded in
all positions by the anapocopated forms normal for proclisis.
The development of os for vos at a comparatively late date
argues rather for the prevalence of enclisis. The later form
may be due to the fact that vos was the most general trata-
miento during the whole of the Old Spanish period and in
consequence enclitic -vos (os) in imperatives and expressions
like digo vos would be especially frequent.
The strongest proof of the proclitic character of the Old
Spanish object pronoun in interpolation lies, I think, in the
character of the words with which it commonly occurs.
Castilian interpolations, as we have seen, are almost entirely
confined to the three categories of negative particle non,
adverbs, and subject pronouns. Now these are all words
tending to weak stress in the sentence1 and consequently
1 The semi-weak character of mm in sentence stress has already been dis-
cussed in Chapter VI. It may be objected that the pronoun subjects are
92 WINTHROP HOLT CHENEEY.
may stand between the pronoun object and verb without
throwing the former into a different stress group, i. e., the
pronoun ceases to be proclitic to the simple verb and becomes
proclitic to the stress group Interpolation — Verb.
We have seen that in Portuguese interpolation is mainly
limited to cases where the pronoun object follows the ex-
ordium of a dependent clause and that in Castilian it is
almost exclusively so limited. The exordium of a dependent
clause, as has been explained, is a relational word, commonly
with weak stress. In Spanish the conjunction porque by the
side of the interrogative $por qu&? is an instance of this
weakening. Leonese se for si also exhibits the same thing.
Interpolation, it will have been observed, is much more
common with the weakest exordiums, que, si, than with the
longer ones which must necessarily carry more stress, e. g.
in the text of the Cid, with a majority for interpolation in
full stressed words, as they are commonly omitted when they would not
logically receive emphasis. I think that they, too, tended to weak stress
from the very first. Ego should give in Castilian *yego ; if yo comes from,
a vulgar Latin *eo, then we are obliged to assume weakening at a very early
period. On the supposition of full stress we should expect Old Spanish
die, supported by the analogy of the demonstratives ese, este, aqueste, to
prevail, but d is much more common even in the oldest texts, and finally
supplants the disyllabic form altogether. Another evidence of the pro-
gressive weakening of the subject pronouns is afforded by the necessity for
the reinvigoration of nos and vos in modern Spanish through the compounds
nosotros (-as) and vosotros (-as). Vos was especially liable to weakening
when it became general as a tratamiento.
With the adverbs, also, there are not wanting evidences of a tendency to
weak stress. Y was a word with weak stress, and the proof of it is seen in
that it has been driven out of use by stronger words. The monosyllabic
adverbs, bien, mal, phonetically correct for stressed bene, male, would on
account of their monosyllabic form have to give up a part of their stress to
a following verb, i. e. , bien hdce would have to be spoken bi&n hace with only
a secondary stress on the adverb. Apart from phonetic considerations,
many adverbs are logically unemphatic. Asi, for example, is merely
relational like the exordiums discussed in Chapter VI. Still another evi-
dence of the tendency of adverbs to weak stress is furnished by the formation
of compounds like maltratar, menospreciar, etc.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD 8P>
the yo category with exordiums que, si, thei
cases of the type quando yo lo and not a single
If in some later manuscripts interpolation with
type quando is nearly as dominant as that wi
of types que, si, this is probably owing to tl
influence of the latter types.
If the arguments of the foregoing paragraphs are sound,
it follows that, in Castilian, interpolation is confined to the
three categories wow, bien, yo, in dependent clauses with
the pronoun object following the exordium, precisely because
the pronouns have not lost their proclitic character and
because these syntactical categories, and no others, afford a
succession of words having weak stress both before and after
the pronoun object, thus permitting the latter to remain in
proclitic position, no longer directly proclitic to the verb, it
is true, but proclitic to the stress group dominated by the
stressed syllable of the verb. Nominal and multiverbal
interpolations, on the other hand, are shunned because they
either interpose a strong stress between the object pronoun
and its verb or else remove the pronoun too far from the
verb for the former to be felt as a proclitic. It will have
been noticed, besides, that many of the cases classed as
multiverbal are combinations of the regular categories, that
is, two weak words are interposed between pronoun object
and verb, and in these cases, also, the pronoun may still be
accounted a proclitic.
Similar reasoning applies to two other sorts of interpola-
tion, not altogether common in Galician and Portuguese, but
so extremely rare in Castilian that I class them as anoma-
lous. The first is when interpolation occurs in a dependent
clause but the object pronoun does not immediately follow
the exordium ; the second is when interpolation occurs in a
principal clause. In both cases interpolation is avoided in
Castilian because the sentence member preceding the pronoun
§4 WINTHROP HOLT CHENEEY.
object is likely to have strong stress, and because with inter-
polated order the object would appear enclitic to it rather
than proclitic to the verb not immediately following. In
Galician-Portuguese we saw that examples of both of these
classes are relatively numerous, .and if they are not prevalent
types, it is probably due to the disturbing influence of analogy.
There is, however, one class of principal clause to which
the reasons adduced above do not apply. I refer to co-
ordinate sentences introduced by et, mas, pero. In these
clauses the conditions of stress are the same as in dependent
clauses introduced by a weak exordium. If interpolation is
not practised in coordinate clauses it is, I think, because there
are lacking here the stereotyped word orders peculiar to
dependent clauses. One may say in Old Spanish e vid lo or
e lo vid, but one can say only que lo vi6. This subject was
touched upon in the preceding chapter, but will be discussed
more in detail here.
The vast majority of dependent clauses begin with que,
conjunction or relative. Next in frequency to que but far
behind it comes si. Then follow the other exordiums. In
unelaborated speech a majority of dependent clauses consist
of only three members, subject, object, and verb. The sub-
ject may be either a noun, a relative pronoun (usually que),
or a personal pronoun (usually omitted as sufficiently indi-
cated by the ending of the verb). In the last two cases, and
they are perhaps in a majority, if the object is a personal
pronoun, since enclisis to the verb is not admitted in depend-
ent clauses, the pronoun necessarily stands next to the
exordium. In this way there develops a strong feeling for
the order Exordium-Pronoun, especially in the case of the
two most frequent exordiums que, si.1 Most of the diplo-
1 Examination of the text of Juan Euiz : Buen Amor reveals two hundred
and sixty-two cases of que followed immediately by object pronoun and
verb, while there are only sixty-five cases (excluding the categories que non
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 95
matic editions, such as those of Don Juan Manuel and the
Archpriest of Hita, write with considerable regularity the
exordium que or si and the following pronoun object as one
•word, e. g. quelo, quela, silo, etc. Meyer-Liibke considers
this an evidence of enclisis. It is rather an evidence of the
feeling of connection between exordium and pronoun, and
may be compared with the almost constant practice of writ-
ing two pronoun objects as one word, gelo, gela, voslo, etc.
Whether or not the analogy of this frequent word order
could originate cases of interpolation in Castilian is doubtful,
but that it could assist in extending and maintaining the
phenomenon is hardly so. It is, moreover, the only way in
which I can explain the confinement of interpolation to
dependent clauses.
Still other analogies may have helped the progress of
interpolation in Castilian. The negative particle is never
separated from its verb except by object pronouns. Thus
the universality of the order, fulano non-dize, working
together with the frequency of que-lo dize, doubtless assisted
the change of que non lo dize to que-lo non-dize. Still
another possibility of analogic influence may be found in the
pronouns nos and vos. The accented forms of these pronouns
were originally used without the objective d, and this use is
still frequent in Old Portuguese. Beside the construction
que non-vos-vi6 stood the construction que (a) vos non vi6,
and the similarity of form between the stressed and unstressed
forms of vos would facilitate the change of que non-vos-vi6 to
the interpolated order que-vos-non-vio.
lo, etc.), in which the pronoun and verb are separated from the exordium
by other words. Add to the latter one hundred and sixteen cases (sev-
enty-nine normal and thirty-seven interpolated), in the categories que non
lo (lo non), que bien lo (lo bien), que yo lo (lo yo), and we have in all
one hundred and eighty-one cases in which there is, or without inter-
polation would have been, separation of exordium and object pronoun,
against the two hundred and sixty-two cases of normal connection as stated
above.
96 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
In a lesser degree the same sort of influence may have
been at work in the adverb categories. Before the definite
formation of the compounds, bienquerer, maltratar, menos-
preciar, etc., there must have been a period in which linguistic
usage hesitated between separable adverb and inseparable
prefix. While the compound verbs acquired a special shade
of meaning, the simple verbs continued to be used with the
same adverbs and consequently, whenever que le malquiere
was used in a sense not very different from that of que mal
le quiere, it had the appearance of an interpolation, and the
frequency of que-le tended to generalize the order que le mal
quiere and extend it to other adverbs.
In the case of interpolated pronoun subjects, also, the
same sort of analogy may have been at work. While nos
and vos could still be used as stressed pronouns without the
objective d, it was possible to say either que v6s yd digo or
quo yb vos digo. The former order, as removing the more
emphatic word farther from the verb, would usually be pre-
ferred, unless the subject pronoun received special emphasis.
In the latter case the object pronoun would fall nearly to
the level of an ordinary proclitic, as both pronouns cannot
have full stress at the same time, i. e.} que yd vds digo. The
analogy of the order que (a) vos yd digo would facilitate the
extension of the interpolated order que vos-yo-digo.
It is my belief that interpolation is a phenomenon arising
first in western dialects and extending itself to the dialects
of Old Castile, in which it undergoes considerable modifica-
tion and restriction. It does not seem probable that it ever
reached the popular dialects of New Castile 1 and Aragon,
and to this fact I attribute its final fall in Castilian.
There are not wanting analogical forces which may have
helped to restore the normal order to absolute dominion.
1 Cf. discussion of text of Juan Euiz, chap, n, above.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 97
Chief amoDg these I reckon the change of position of the
verb hi dependent clauses. The verb, which in early Cas-
tilian tends to stand at the end of a dependent clause, is in
the course of the xiv and xv centuries pretty generally
transferred to the second place, i. e., it follows the exordium.
The causes of this change of word order ought to be made
the subject of a special investigation. I shall not attempt to
discuss them here, but shall content myself with pointing out
how this change of word order greatly reduces the number
of occasions for interpolation. In the later word order non
still continues to stand before the verb, but adverbs and
pronoun subjects follow more often than they precede. It
resulted from the above that non remained the only frequent
interpolation category and, antagonized by the normal order
constant in principal clauses, could not stand alone.
CONCLUDING NOTE.
In concluding, I wish to express my sense of deep obli-
gation to Professor E. S. Sheldon, and to Professor C. H.
Grandgent, editor-in-chief of this publication. To both of
these gentlemen I am indebted for much helpful criticism
and many valuable suggestions. To Professor Sheldon
belongs the credit of having first suggested the investigation.
WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
98 WINTHEOP HOLT CHENERY.
APPENDIX.
Note. — The arrangement of the illustrative material, contained in this
Appendix, is explained in the notes prefixed to Part One. The num-
bering of the texts is the same as that followed in the List of Texts. The
page number of the beginning of each article is indicated in the Table of
Contents.
I.
POEMA DEL GlD.
1. a) Que, si, quando non lo. 1) Que: Que si non la quebrantas por
fuerca, que non gela abriese nadi, v. 34 ; De noche lo lieuen, que non lo vean
christianos, 93 ; Rachel et Vidas, amos me dat las manos, Que non me descu-
brades a moros nin a christianos, 107 ; Con grand iura meted y las fes amos,
Que non las catedes en todo aqueste afio, 121 ; Por aduzir las archas et meter
las en uuestro saluo, Que non lo sepan moros nin christianos, 145 ; Por tal
lo faze myo Cid que no io (1. lo) ventasse nadi, 433 ; Todo gelo dize, que
nol en cubre (1. encubre) nada, 922 ; Sonrrisos el caboso, que non lo pudo
en durar, 946 ; A mi dedes C. caualleros, que non uos pido mas, 1129 ; Mas
le vienen a myo Cid, sabet, que nos le van, 1207 ; Que presa es Valeria,
que non gela enparan, 1223 ; Con el Mynayna Albarffanez que nos le parte de
so braco, 1244 ; Las puertas del alcayar que non se abriessen de dia nin de
noch, 2002 ; Myo Cid selos gaftara, que non gelos dieran en don, 2011 ; Mas
bien sabet verdad que non lo leuante yo, 2199 ; De que non me fallaren loe
yf antes de Carrion, 2793 ; Vna cofia sobre los pelos dun escarin de pro,
Con oro es obrada, fecha por Eazon, Que non le contalassen los pelos al
buen Cid Canpeador, 3096 ; En prestan les delo ageno, que non lea cumple
lo suyo, 3248 ; El Bey alos de myo Cid de noche los en bio, Que noles dies-
sen salto nin ouiessen pauor, 3699. 2) Si: Que si non la quebrantas por
fuerca, que non gela abriese nadi, 34 ; Des fechos nos ha el Cid, sabet, si no
nos val, 1433 ; Si nolo dexas por myo Cid el de Biuar, Tal cosa uos faria
que por el mundo sonas, 2677. 3) Quando, etc. Asconden se de myo Cid,
ca nol osan dezir nada, 30 ; Poso en la glera quando nol coge nadi en casa,
59 ; Vna des leatanca ca non la fizo alguandre, 1081 ; Vos casades mis fijas,
ca non gelas do yo, 2110 ; Ellos lo temen, ca non lo piesso yo, 2501 ; El caso
mis fijas, ca non gelas di yo, 2908 ; Ca non me priso aella fijo de mugier
nada, 3285.
b) Que, si, quando lo non. 1) Que: Non viene ala pueent, ca por el
agua apassado, Que gelo non ventanssen de Burgos ome nado, 151 ; Esto
mando myo Cid, Minaya lo ouo consseiado : Que ningun orne delos sos
ques le non spidies, onol besas la man[o], 1252. 2) Si: No example. 3)
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 99
Quando: Quando las non queriedes, ya canes traydores, jPor que las
sacauades de Valenfia BUS honores ? 3263.
2. a) Que, si, quando bien lo. 1) Que: For miedo del Key Alfonsso,
que assi lo auien parado, 33 ; Pues que aqui uos veo, prendet de mi oepedado,
247 ; El £id que bien nos quiera nada non perdera, 1389 ; Mager que mal le
queramos, non gelo podremos fer, 1524 ; Por que assi las en bio dond ellas
son pagadas, 1812 ; Vos con ellos sed, que assi uos lo mando yo, 2179 ; Dios,
que bien los siruio atodo so sabor, 2650 ; Enemigo de myo Qid, que siemprd
busco mal, 2998 ; Mas en nuestro iuuizio assi lo mandamos nos, Que aqui
lo entergedes dentro en la cort, 3227 ; ... si non tenedes dineros, echad
[A] la vnos pefios, que bien vos lo dararan sobrelos, 3735. 2) Si: Que si
antes las catassen que fuessen periurados, 164 ; Si bien las seruides, yo uos
Eendre buen galardon, 2582. 3) Quando, etc. Ca assil dieran la fe ft gelo
auien iurado, 163 ; Legolas al coracon, ca mucho las queria, 276 ; Salios le
de sol espada, ca muchol andido el cauallo, 1726 ; Gradid melo, mis fijas,
ca bien uos he casadas, 2189.
b) Que, si, quando lo bien. 1) Que: Por esso uos la do que la bien
curiedes uos, 3196. 2)3) Si, Quando, etc. No examples.
3. a) Que, si, quando yo lo. 1 ) Que : Fata que yo me page sobre mio buen
cauallo, 498 ; Non de ranche ninguno fata que yo lo mande, 703 ; Mas vale
que nos los vezcamos, que ellos coian el [p]an, 1691 ; Bien melo creades,
que el uos casa, ca non yo, 2204. 2) SI : Sabet bien que si ellos le viessen,
non escapara de muert, 2774. 3) Quando, etc. Non lo conpra, ca el selo
auie consigo, 67 ; Do yo uos en bias (1. enbias) bien abria tal esperanca,
490 ; Mas quando el melo busca, yr gelo he yo demandar, 966 ; Tornauas a
Muruiedro, ca el se la a ganada, 1196 ; Saldrien del monesterio do die las
dexo, 1353 ; Quando uos los fueredes ferir, entrare yo del otra part, 1696 ;
Mas pues bos lo queredes, en tremos en la Eazon, 1893 ; Dad manero a qui
las de, quando uos las tomades, 2133 ; Assi como yo las prendo daquent, como
si fosse delant, 2137 ; Quando uos nos casaredes bien seremos Bicas, 2195 :
Quando el lo oyo pesol de coracon, 2815 ; Al puno bien estan, ca el selo
mando, 3089 ; Ca uos las casastes, Bey, sabredes que fer oy, 3150 ; Quando
ellos los an apechar, non gelos quiero yo, 3235.
b) Que, si, quando lo yo. 1) Que:, ^id, beso uuestra mano, endon que la
yo aya, 179 ; En esta heredad que uos yo he ganada, 1607 ; Fijas del £id,
por que las vos dexastes, 3368. 2) SI: Si les yo visquier, seran duenas
Bicas, 825. 3) Quando, etc. No example.
Anomalous example. Qui lo fer non quisiesse, o no yr a mi cort, Quite
myo Beino, cadel non he sabor, 2993.
2.
VIDA DE SANTA MARIA EOIPCIACA.
1. a) Que (si, cuando) non lo:
Que non es pecado tan grande
Ni tan orrible
100 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
Que non le faga Dios,
Non le faga perdon, v. 32.
Que non sse deuien marauillar
De algun omne ssil veyen pecar 54.
Que non se pueden de ella toller, 175.
Non pudo estar que non se hiria, 317.
Que non lo sierua en los mios dias, 508.
Mas tanto lo tenie 41 por prepiado
Que non lo darie por vn cauallo, 911.
Con 411 comen96 de ffablar,
Que non sse le quiso mas pelar, 981.
Ca ella non sabie ssu nombre
Si non gelo dixiesse algun homne, 993.
En tal guisa serd contada
Que non sse pelard hi nada, 1139.
b) Que lo non:
Sus parientes quando la veyan
Por poco que se non murien, v. 103.
2. Que (si, cuando) lo blen:
E dexar4 aquesta vida
Que mucho la e mantenida, 510.
Bien puedes ffiar por el tu Senyor
Que siempre lo seruiste a onor, 1045.
Quando lo auras soterrado
Ruega por ell que asi te es acomendado, 1367.
b) Que bien lo. No example.
3. a) Que (si, cuando) yo lo:
Ffaz non perdon que lu lo tienes, 1075.
Quando ella lo vi6 asi andar
Luego comien^a de llamar, 1112.
b) Que lo yo. No example.
3.
LIBKO DE APCXLONTO.
Stzs. 1-328.
1. a) Que non lo; si non lo; quando non lo. 1) Que: Stz. 15, v. 4;
20, 3 ; 35, 1 ; 236, 3 ; 290, 4 ; 314, 4. 2) Si: 289, 4. 3) Quando, etc.:
13, 4 ; 95, 4 ; 158, 4.
b) Que, si, quando lo non. No examples.
2. a) Que, si, quando bien lo. 1) Que: 18, 3; 246, 2; 302, 4. 2) Si:
319, 3. 3) Quando, etc. : 83, 1 ; 298, 3.
b) Que, si quando lo bien. No examples.
3. a) Que, si, quando yo lo. 1) Que: 53, 4. 2) Si: 1, 2 ; 82, 1 ; 247,
1 ; 303, 4. 3) Quando, etc.: 206, 2 ; 230, 3 ; 232, 3 ; 237, 1 ; 238, 4.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 101
b) Que, si, quando lo yo. No examples.
4. Que lo : Fija, si vos queredes buscarme grant player, Que vot yo
siempre aya mucho que gradecer, 166, 2.
6. Infinitive. For blen lo : Diome enel mar salto por mas me desmentir,
118, 3.
b) Por lo blen, etc. No example.
4.
GrONZAIX) DE BERCEO.
1. a) Type que no lo.
SrLOS. Bien sabia al diablo tenerle la frontera, Qne non lo engannasse
por ninguna manera, stz. 48, v. 4. Cunti6 gran negligen9ia a los que lo
sopieron El logar do estido, que non lo escribieron, 71, 2. O creo por
ventura, que non lo entendieron, 71, 3. Por Dios que non me quieras tan
mucho segudar, 176, 1. Lo que de9ir vos quiero, que non lo retrayades,
228, 4. Cata que non las pierdas, 238, 3. Sabet que nol ovieron dos vepes a
clamar, 726, 2.
MII/LAN. Tienie bien sue memoria, Que non lo engannasse la vida transi-
toria, stz. 123, v. 4. Conno9erme deviedes tu e tu ermandat, Que non me
levantassedes crimen de falsedat, 267, 4. Que ante los vengaron que non
los recibieron, 446, 4.
MISSA. Por ent a los dis9ipulos di6 signo spe9ial Que non se acostassen a
es hospital, 50, 4.
LATJRENCIO. Que non me desempares, por Dios e caridat, 64, 2.
LOOBES. Menester nos a, sennores, su mer9ed recadar, Que non nos des-
conoscan a la hora de entrar, 167, 4.
MILAGROS. Esto bien lo creades : Que avie de noblezas tantas diversi-
dades, Que non las contarien priores nin abbades, 10, 4. Madre eres de fijo
alcalde derechero, Que nol place la fuerza nin es end placentero, 90, 4.
Dilis que non lo dexen y otro trentanario, 107, 3. Fueron mal rependidos
que non lo degollaron, 153, 3. Dios el nuestro sennor alcalde derechero,
Al que non se encubre bodega nin 9ellero, 244, 2. Embiaron al bispo por
su carta de9ir, Que non las visitaba, 511, 4. Por poco la gent loca que non
lo adoraba, 724, 4. Veredes el diablo que trae mala manna, Los que non
se le guardan, 839, 4.
ORIA. Sennor, dixo, e padre, peroque non te veo, 103, 1.
b) Type que lo no.
MISSA. Los que lo non entienden bien deben preguntar, 48, 1.
LAURENCIO. Los que lo non fi^ieren quierelos martiriar, 29, 4.
LOORES. Sennor mer94 te pido de que tanto fe9iste, Que me non abor-
rescas, 98, 4.
Doblaron su peccado los que la non creyeron, 128, 4.
Mand6 de la 9iudat que se non derramassen, 131, 3.
MILAGROS. Ubert, Ubert, por qu£ me non recudes ? 293, 2.
Pusolo en porfazo porque lo non pagaba, 685, 2.
102 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
2. a) Type si no lo.
SILOS. Si non los amparare el padron del logar, 155, 3. Si non vos lo
tollieron nuestros graves pecados, 283, 1. Ca si non li valiesse, a poca de
sazon Serie piego, 706, 3. Dixo : si non me saca Dios el nuestro sennor
Desti qui me tiene non me fipier amor, 712, 2.
MILLAN. Si TioTi se meiorasse que serie destruida, 281, 3.
MISSA. Ca pesarie a Cesar si non lo acabassen, 243, 4.
LATJRENCIO. Si non me lievas, padre, en tu sopiedat, 64, 3.
MILAGROS. Del mal si non ie guardas, caeras en peor, 261, 4. Madre,
si non nos vales, de ti non nos partremos, 393, 1. Todo es recabdado si non
te repindieres, 728, 4.
ORIA. Si non te lo quitare conseio del pecado, El que hizo a Eva comer
el mal bocado, 96, 3.
b) Type si lo no.
SILOS. So en fiero afruento con tal enfermedat, Si me non acorriere la tu
grant piadat, 411, 4.
MILLAN. Dissolis por conpeio una f uert profepia : Que sis non quisiessen
quitar da la follia, Serien todos destructos, 283, 2.
Sennor, si TIOS non sanas, daqui nunqua iztremos, 327, 1.
Si los non escuchasen non fipieran locura, 408, 4.
LOORES. Si nos TioTi vales, madre, podemosnos perder, 223, 2.
3. a) Type quando no lo.
SILOS. Quando non lo leyesse, decir non lo querria, 73, 3.
MISSA. Quando noTi lo quisieron los diestros repebir, 51, 1.
LOORES. Quando TIOTI me atrevo a essas, digome destas menores 85, 2.
b) Type quando lo no.
MILLAR. Por poco se non riso, tant ovo grant sabor, 222, 4.
4. a) Type que bien lo.
SILOS. Rey, dixo, mal faces, que tanto me denuestas, 148, 1. Desende
adelante, porque bien la, partieron, Di61es Dios buen conseio, 461, 1. Ter-
neme por pagado, que bien me soldades, 760, 3. En caridat vos ruego, que
luego los digades, 760, 4.
MILLAN. Deste sect seguros que bien vos fallaredes, 480, 3.
LOORES. Porque la virtut podemos entender, Que bien se podia dellos
sin anna defender, 59, 3.
MILAGROS. Benedicta sea ella que bien gelo cumpli6, 130, 2. Lo que alii
methieremos que bien lo empleamos, 498, 4. Tanto era grant cosa que abes
lo creya, 837, 4.
ORIA. Fizonos esta grapia porque bien lo quisiemos, 68, 4.
b) Type que lo bien. No examples.
5. a) Type si bien lo.
MILLAN. Si bien lo entendiessedes, sodes bien escapados, 276, 1. Deste
sect seguros que bien vos fallaredes, Si bien lis enviaredes esto que lis
devedes, 480, 4.
OBJECT-PRONOUN8 IN OLD SPANISH. 103
MILAGROS. Los que tuerto li tienen o que la desirvieron, Delia meryed
ganaron, si bien gda pidieron, 376, 2.
ORIA. Madre, si bien me quieres, e pro me quieres buscar, Manda llamar
loe clerigos, 193, 1.
b) Type si lo bien. No examples.
6. a) Type quando bien lo.
MILAGROS. Quando bien la catares, tuia es mas que mia, 669, 3.
ORIA. Seras fuerte embargada de enfennedat mortal, Qual nunca la
oviste, terrasla bien por tal, 135, 4.
b) Type quando lo bien. No examples.
7. a) Type que yo lo.
SILOS. Porque viene aquesto, que ws me lo digades, 239, 2. Esto que
yo vos digo todo lo probaredes, 448, 4. Empez6 muy afirmes al Criador
rogar, Que etti les dennasse conseio embiar, 450, 3. En graf ia vos lo pido,
que por Dios lo fagades, De sendos pater nostres, que vos me acorrades,
760, 2.
MISSA. En el su amor sancto que &, la e^ienda, 102, 3. Euega a Dios
por 41 e por sus encomen dados, Que el los absuelva de todos los pecados,
269, 2.
LOORES. Tu ante estas presta que nos te demandemos, 217, 3.
MILAGROS. Verdat es, non mentira, esto que io vos digo, 276, 2. Que-
rien a Dios rogar, Que elli lis mostrase qual debiessen alzar, 307, 4. BUSC&
al omne bono que etta li mandara, 491, 2. Duenna, disso el bispo, porque
vos lo neguedes, Non seredes creida, 550, 3. O que omne es esti que ws me
presentades?736, 3.
ORIA. Espert6 ella luego que ettas la dexaron, 108, 4.
b) Type que lo yo.
MISSA. Mer9et pido a todos por la ley que tenedes De sendos pater
nostres que me vos ayudedes, 297, 3.
MTLAGROS. Lo que lis el di9ia fa9ieielo probar, 725, 3.
8. a) Type si yo lo.
Siix)S. Todo es tu provecho, si tu lo entendiesses, 431, 1.
MILL AN. Bien me ten por babieca si yo te lo consiento, 116, 4.
MISSA. Si ws me esperassedes por vuestro bien seer, Oyriedes razones
que vos faran pla9er, 107, 3.
MILAGROS. Si vos me escuchasedes por vuestro consiment, Querriavos
contar un buen aveniment, 1, 2. Mas si tu me quissiesses del tuio acreer,
Bien te lo cuidaba a un plazo render, 640, 3. Si el te enfiare, io por el su
amor Acreerte" lo mio sin otro fiador, 644, 1. Mas si tu me fallieres, a ellos
reptare", 652, 3. Mas si tu me falle9es non me tengo a nada, 818, 2.
b) Type si lo yo. No examples.
9. a) Type quando yo lo.
SILOS. Commo el lo asmaba, todo assi avino, 162, 1.
b) Type quando lo yo. No example.
104 WINTHEOP HOLT CHENERY.
10. Anomalous example.
MmLAN. Si me la la tu gratia quisiesse condonar, Sennor, aqui querria
de mi grado finar, 60, 3.
11. Infinitive.
a) Type por no lo, etc.
MiLiiAN. Metiose por los monies por mas se esconder, 47, 3. Cant6 la
sancta missa por salut li ganar 179, 3. Yban al omne bueno por con el se
morar, 253, 2.
MISSA. El caliz a la diestra por meyor le membrar, 66, 3.
LOORES. Bien te curieste, madre, de non lo facer, 20, 4.
b) Type por lo no, etc.
MILLAN. Sobraba bien un palmo por a ( pora ?) ws non mentir, 234, 4.
5.
LIBRO DE AMXANDRE.
1. a) Que, si, quando no lo. 1) Que: En Asia iaz Affrica que es
mucho acabada, Frigia e Pamfilia que non ge deuen nada, stz. 267, v. 2 ;
Tant auie grant corapon e firme uoluntat Que nos le retenfe castiello nin
piudat, 285, 2; Juraronlle al rey en ambas las sus manos Que non le
fallirian nin enfermos nin sanos, 379, 3 ; Tant grant era la reuelta que no
la podien cuntar, 403, 3 ; Quando uio Eneas que nol podie golpar, 511, 1 ;
Bien se cuedaua Eneas que nol podrie erger, 512, 4 ; Assy que non les pudo
can nin omne uentar, 579, 4 ; Membr61 quel dixiera que encantado era,
Que nol farie mal fierro por ninguna manera. 601, 2 ; Dixo que nol prefiaua
quanto un gurrion, 624, 4 ; Sopo que nol ualdrie lanca nin espada, 639, 3 ;
Cuemo Achilles auie el cuerpo encantado Que nol entrarie fierro, andaua
esforciado, 678, 2 ; Mentrie qui uos dixies que nol auie grant sanna, 775, 2 ;
De fronte ua Sagarius que nol saben fondon, 784, 3 ; Aun fizo al Dario por
las huestes saluar, E que non los podiessen los griegos desbaratar, 820, 2 ;
Las que non se rendioron fueron todas ardidas, 867, 2 ; Puso ennos primeros
un muro de peones, Que no lo romperien picos nin apadones, 930, 2 ; Quando
uio Gozeas que nol podie mouer, 1016, 1 ; Por tal que nol podiessen los
griegos perpebir, 1028, 4 ; Aun uos quiero dezir otra solucion, Porque non
uos temades do nulla occasion, 1180, 2 ; Somos mucho fallidos en el Criador
Que nol obedepiemos cuemo a tal sennor, 1282, 2 ; El quebranto de Dario
sabet que nol plazia, 1402, 2 ; Se fuesse por uentura Dario en las compannas,
Que nol ualiesse nada su sauer nen sus mannas, 1434, 4 ; Luego lo ouieran
morto, asmaron al fazer, Quando anoche9iesse de uiuo lo prender, Dario a
Alexandre por meior lo auer, Que non se les podies otra miente defender,
1538, 4 ; Veie que nol ficaua nenguna guarnizon, 1540, 3 ; El omne cobdi-
pioso que non se sabe guardar, 1763, 1 ; Dixol que nol duldasse de fer su
mestria, 2088, 1 ; Pero tan fieras cosas tu quieres ensayar, Que non te podrie
nengun omne aguardar, 2112, 2 ; Fizo Dios grant cosa en tal omne criar,
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 105
Que no lo podien ondas esmedrir nen espantar, 2138, 4 ; Par&sse a la puerta
so rostro embocado Que no la embargasse el infierno enconado, 2261, 4.
2) SI : Pesarma, se nol fago, que sobre sy lo sienta, 771, 4 ; Sy no nos das
conseio todos somos fynados, 1157, 4 ; Se non se meiorasse morir se dexaria,
2411, 4.
3) Quando, etc. Quien non lo ouies uisto tener-lo ye en locura, 284, 3 ;
Sennor, dixioron ellos, se Ddrio falleyia Non era marauija, ca non te con-
no9ia, 751, 2 ; Solamente de la uista quienquier que lo uiesse Lo podrie
conosper magar nol conofiesse, 896, 2 ; Vfo quel auie fecho Dios grant
piadat, Ca no la ganara menos de grant mortandat, 1372, 4 ; Pora qui non
lo ufo semeiarie follfa, 1801, 2.
b) Que, si, quando lo no. 1) Que: Diies que se non quieran por nada
desordir Ffasta que uienga lora que ies mandes ferir, 59, 3 ; Veo que se non
gabar& ella deste mercado, 215, 3 ; Non ha rey enno mundo nen tal empe-
rador Que tal fijo ouies, ques non touies por meior, 334, 4 ; Dizen que se
non fuesse por la su arteria, Non sal Ira Achilles enton de la freyria, 389, 3 ;
Feri6 Ector en ellos que Ies non daua uagar, 525, 3 ; Lidiaron un gran dia
ques non podien uenper, Non podien un a otro en carne se prender, 600, 1 ;
Muchos pueblos y ouo de que uos non dixiemos, 1144, 1 ; Quierenlas en
uerano los que andan carrera, Que Ies non faga mal el sol enna mollera,
1318, 4 ; Del que las non uiesse creydos non seriemos, 1363, 4 ; Sennor,
dixo, que sabes todas las uoluntades, Al que se non encubren ningunas pori-
dades, 1541, 2 ; Bien se que te non fiz derecho nin leal seruipio Segund que
deuie, non compli mi offipio, 1542, 1 ; La carrera de Dario fallar no la
podian, Porque la non fallauan grant duelo fazian, 1603, 3 ; Los que mays
te cuidas en tu mano tener, Solo que te non uean te an de falleper 1764, 4 ;
Ally est£ el rey enemigo de la paz Faziendo a las almas iogos que lies non
plaz, 2248, 4 ; Non serie omne biuo que sse non fus doliendo, 2480, 4.
2) Si : Dixo : yo non temia que soe fijo darssamario SU non fago que
prenda de mi vn mal escarnio, 133, 4 ; Ca me tern£ por malo e por fijo de
uieia Sil non fago espoluorar otra-mientre la peleia 205, 4 ; Oytme, mis
amigos, nacf en ora dura, Tern4 se me non uengo, por de mala uentura,
377, 4 ; Diz a ti, Alexandre, nouo guerreador, Que se te non tornares,
prenderas mal honor, 735, 4 ; Dizert4 que te contyrd se me non quisieres
creer, 1764, 1.
3) Quando, etc. Ternan-se por fallidos quando te non uieren, 73, 3 ; Mas
se lo tu mandasses, empiepo ty acia Que non prisies mal quien lo non mere9ia,
751, 4 ; Querie que al bono la uerdat le ualisse, Non leuasse soldada qui la
non merepisse, 1391, 2 ; Da nos tu omnes, nos daremos las guardas, Quando
se non cataren dentro seran entradas, 1409, 4 ; Qui los non entendiesse aurie
fiera pauura 2309, 4 ; Quien le non obedepiesse farie traypion, 2471, 4.
2. a) Que, si, quando bien lo. 1) Que: Dixo vn escudero que bien lo
connoscia, 135, 3 ; El rey Agamenon portjwe bien lie parepie, Toliola a
Achilles que mal non merepie, 393, 3 ; Antes darme grapias porque assy lo
106 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
he complido, 1112, 4 ; Conseiolos el rey que assy lo feziessen, 1477, 1 ; Mas
que mucho lo digamos, en fado lo ouieste, 1487, 4 ; Los que mays te cuydas
en tu mano tener, Solo que te non uean te an de falleper, 1764, 4 ; Mas tan
bien se sabia la atalaya componer Que nunca lo podioron asmar nen conno-
sper, 1872, 4 ; Mas merped te pedimos Ips que bien te queremos, Que saigas
contra fuera, nos te repibremos, 2062, 2 ; Quien no la ha prouada deue a
Dios rogar Que nunca ge la dexe en este mundo prouar, 2097, 4 ; Prometio-
les grant promessa ante que ende se partiesse, 2198, 1 ; Mas deuemos a Dios
la su merped pedir Que nunca uos dexe ensayarlo nen sentir, 2259, 4 ; Los
que bien lo amauan auien gran sabor, 2372, 3 ; Dios lo eche en lugar que
nunca lo desate, 2453, 4 ; Grepia do a Perdicas, ca sey que bien la embrego,
2470, 2.
2) Si: Muchas uezes uos dixi, se bun uos acordades, De can que mucho
ladra nunca uos del temades, 742, 3 ; Si assy nos estorpieren estos esta
uegada, Quantos esto oyeren non daran por nos nada, 1060, 1 ; Se mas te
contendieres seras por fol tenido, 2330, 2.
3) Quando, etc. Dex6 al rey por muerto, ca tanto se valia, 155, 1 ; No
lo crey6 el rey, ca bien lo conopie, 857, 3 ; Por f£ a mi non pesa, ca bien lo
merepioron, 1067, 4 ; Exi6 luego a el, ca mucho lo temie, 1298, 3 ; Quando
es contra mi ca bien se mantouioron, 2477, 3 ; La gloria deste mundo quien
bien la quisier amar, 2506, 1.
b) Que, si, quando lo bien. 1) Que: Su amo Aristotil que lo auie
criado, Era muy alegre porque lo assi ueya onrrado, 177, 4.
2) Si : Sertan mas leales si lo assy fezieres, 48, 3 ; Ca si to bien entendiesses,
mucho te escarnepen, 360, 4.
3 ) Quando, etc. Sennor, piegos se uean quantos uos mal pegaron, 2488, 2.
3. a) Que, si, quando yo lo. 1) Que: Dixieron ellos : plaznos porque
uos lo mandades, 293, 4 ; Far6 de uoluntat lo que uos me mandades, 330, 4 ;
A esto, dixo Paris, iudgo que tu la lieues, 362, 4 ; Dezie quel touiessen lo
que fue narrado, Se non quelles (i. e. que 41 les) caye muy mal e diguisado,
470, 4 ; Diran, se nos tornamos, que ellos nos uenpioron, 687, 4 ; Sol que tu
nos uiuas por ricos nos tenemos, 748, 3 ; Que yo uos quiera mucho todos los
uipios dezir, 2247, 1 ; Sennor, por estas nouas que nos les leuaremos Ne nos
daran aluistra, nen grado non auremos, 2489, 1.
2) Si : Aqui te merped pedir si tu lo destruyeres, 219, 1 ; Si tu lo otor-
gares que esto es derecho, Fallar-tas ende bien, auras end grant prouecho,
345, 1 ; Si el me cometies, 41 leuard el prez 649, 3 ; Mas se uos nos guiardes
a essas santidades, Daruos emos offerendas que mannas uos querades,
2321, 3.
3) Quando, etc. Siempre lo quiso bien, ca el Uo merepie, 857, 4.
b) Que, si, quando lo yo. 1) Que: Se quisierdes fazer esto que uos yo
ruego, 329, 4 ; Que quier que nos el da, nos essol gradepimos, 1771, 4 ;
Torque me uos querades encara falleper, Lo que yo non cuydo oyr nen ueer,
2130, 1.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 107
2) Si: Mas 8e /<> in. mandasses, empieco ty :i(;i;i Que non prisiea mal
quien lo non merecia, 751, 3 ; Todos dezien : sennor, ualer non te podemos ;
Mas me^ed te pedimos los que bien te queremos, Que saigas contra fuera,
nos te recibremos : Sennor se te tu pierdes nos todos nos perderaos, 2062, 4 ;
For un mal castello que non ual un figo, Mal es se te tu pierdes e quantos
son contigo, 2063, 2.
3) Quando, etc. Quando sopo el rey las nouas del cauallo tan fiere,
Dixo : nol prenda ombre se lo yo non presiere : Greet que serd, manso
quando lo yo ouiere : Perderd toda braueza quando yo en 41 souiere, 102, 3 ;
En grant cueta uisquieron, nunqua den se quitaron, Qval la ellos ouieron a
uos tal la dexaron, 186, 4.
4. Que, si, quando lo . 1) Que: No example. 2) SI: Si lo yo
saber puedo non me lo podrd lograr, 34, 3 ; Quando sopo el rey las nouas
del cauallo tan fiere, Dixo : nol prenda ombre se lo yo non presiere, 102, 2 ;
Mas segunt nuestro seso, si lo por bien touiesses, Vna cosa de nueuo querri-
emos que feziesses, 291, 1 ; Dart4 yo casamiento muger qual tu quisieres,
Por casar o casada qua! tu por bien touieres, Nunca te fallir6 si me tu non
falle9ieres, 362, 3. 3) Quando, etc. Al sennor enna bataia muy bien lo
aiudaua, Non tornarie rienda quien se a el llegaua, 113, 4 ; Quando se omnes
uien catan uassallos e sennores, Caualleros e clerigos, a buelta lauradores,
Abbades e obispos e los otros pastores, En todos ha achaques de diuersas
colores, 1666, 1 ; Pero Gaiter el bono en su uersificar Seya ende cansado,
do querie destaiar, Dixo de la materia mucho en este logar Quando la el rey
dixo quierolo yo cuntar, 1935, 4 ; Las bonas calagrannas que se quieren
alcar, Las otras moleias que fazen las uieias trotar, La torronts amorosa
bona poral lagar, Quanto uos omne non podrie dezir nen cuntar, 1967, 4.
5. Que, si .... lo no. 1) Que: Feri6 entre los reys que a Dario
guardauan, Pocos auie hy dellos que del se non duldauan, 959, 4 ; Yo te
sabre" dos aruoles en este monte mostrar, Que non puedes tal cosa entre to
cuer asmar : Quettos te non digan en que puede finar, 2318, 3.
2) SI : Mas conseiarte quiero a toda mi cordura, Se de nos te non partes
auras mala uentura, 120, 4.
6. Anomalous examples. Ouol por uentura el infante a ueer, Desg-ue lo
uisto ouo nos le pudo ascender, 160, 2 ; Aqui te merged pedir si tu lo
destruyeres, Nunca acabards todo lo que quisieres, 219, 1 ; Fijos e mugieres
por mi los oluidestes, E lo que yo quis nunca lo uos contradixiestes, 2120, 4.
7. Infinitive, a) Por bien lo: Dieronie dos bondades por bien la acabar,
89, 2 ; Pero dubdaua Ector en bien se meter, 600, 3 ; Ape6s el bon ombre
por meior se encobrir, 1028, 3 ; Por uerdat uos dezir de tal golpe me pago,
1211, 4 ; Fizo cara fremosa por meior se encobrir, 1489, 2 ; Darlo a Ale-
xandre por meior lo auer, 1538, 3.
b) Por lo bien : Mas preste fue Filotaspor lo luego uengar, 971, 3.
108 WINTHEOP HOLT CHENERY.
6.
POEMA DE FERNAN GONZALEZ.
1. a) Quo, si, quando non lo. 1) Que: Que non le (M. nol) pudieron
(ellas) danno ninguno fazer (M. fer), stz. Ill, v. 2; Que non se podrryan
deso los frranpeses alabar, 129, 3 ; Dezit le que mm le mejorare valia de vna
meaja, 291, 4 ; Ovyeron a tomar (su) acuerdo que rum gelo consejasen (M.
departyessen), 337, 1 ; Estos e otrros muchos que (non) vos he nonbrado(s),
353, 1 ; Por que non los podia venper andava muy cuytado, 364, 2 ; Pedimos
te por merped que non nos fagas traydores, 420, 2 ; Dixo que non le ( M. nol)
daria valia de vn (M. dun) dinero, 744, 3. 2) Si: Sy non te do yo a
Espan(n)a non coma yo mas pan, 44, 3. 3) Quando: Ca non se tovo del
por byen aconsejado, 207, 2 ; Ca non lo fueron nunca nuestros antepesores,
420, 3 ; Avye sabor de ver le el que (M. quien) non le avya vysto (M.
vydo), 606, 4.
b) Que, si, quando lo non. 1) Quo: No example. 2) Si : Sylosnon
acorryan que eran desbaratados, 530, 4. 3) Quando : No example.
2. a) Que, si, quando bien lo . 1) Que: stz. 129, v. 4: 144, 1; 231,
2; 553, 4; 750, 3. 2) Si: No example. 3) Quando: (3, 1) ; 748, 2.
3. a) Que, si, quando yo lo. 1) Que : Por esto ha menester que nos
los ocometamos, 305, 1 ; Que i por que avya miedo pues que el me ayvdava ?
427, 4 ; Que el les deria que querye la serpyente demost(r)ar, 472, 3 ; (Ca)
de lo que ellos se pagan, tyenen lo por mejor, 629, 4. 2) Si : E sy vos (lo)
quisyesedes el podrrya escapar, 624, 4 ; 3) Quando : Cad les daria ayuda por
que la anparasen, 115, 4.
b) Que, si, quando lo yo. 1) Que : Quanto que te yo digo ten lo por
aseguranpa, 238, 3. 2) 3) Si, Quando, etc. No examples.
4. Que, si, quando lo . No examples.
5. Anomalous examples. Por conqueryr a Espanna segunt que ellos
cuydavan, Que ge la conquerryan mas non lo byen asmavan, 132, 4 ; Sennor,
dicho te he lo que te dezir queria, 344, 1.
6. Infinitive. Por non lo. Por non vos detener en otrras ledanias, 267, 1.
7.
EL CANTAB DE LOS CANTARES.
1. a) Si non lo. Si non te connoces tu fermosa entre las mugieres, Cap.
I, v. 7.
2. b) Que lo bien. iQual es el to omado del amor por que nos assi
coniurest ? Cap. V, v. 9.
8a.
POEME D' AMOUR. — Romania, xvr, 368 ff.
1. a) Que no lo.
Que nom fiziese nial la siesta, v. 34.
Que nom fizies mal la calentura, 36.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 109
Pero se que no me conocia, 100.
b) Que lo no. No example.
2. a) Que (si, etc.) yo lo.
Mas si (i)o te vies una vegada,
A plan me queryes por amada, 96.
Yo conoci luego las alfayas
Que yo ielas avia embiadas, 123.
Ela connoyio una mi pi(n)ta man a mano
Qu' ela la fiziera con la su mano, 125.
b) Que lo yo. No example.
8b.
DEBAT DU Vra EX DE L'EAU. — Romania, xvi, 375 ff.
1. Que no lo.
Que no a homne que no lo sepa
Que fillo sodes de la cepa, v. 34.
2. Que blen lo.
E contar t'e otras mis manas,
Mas temo, que luego te asanas, 81.
3. Que yo lo.
Don vino, si vos de Dios salut,
Que vos me fagades agora una virtud, 56.
8c.
DE LOS DIEZ MANDAMIENTOS. — Romania, xvi, 379 ff.
1. Que no lo.
E demande del perdimento del bien, que muitas vezes poria el
omne facer bien que non lo face, p. 381, 1. 37.
2. SI no lo.
En este peca qui fiere padre o madre o qui los face irados por
paraulas o por feitos o si no los socorre de lo que an mester,
380, 11.
Pero qual pecado a feito tal pena deve sofrir e levar, que, si non
se escarmentasen los omnes del mal que facen, 381, 25.
9.
DOCTTMENTOS DE ALFONSO X.
1. a) Quo non lo: et si non el que non los ayudase, p. 9, 1. 16 (Privi-
legio de Alfonso X del afio 1253). 6 el aldea que non les ayudase, 9, 17
(Ibid.). Et aquellos privillegios que ban los de Cordova que non le
embargen, 22, 3 (Carta de Alfonso X del afio 1254). 6 por que diga que es
su pariente, que nonle vala ni se excuse por ende, 42, 13 (Ordenanza de
Alfonso X del afio 1254).
110 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
b) Que lo non : de guisa que quando el otro & qui demandaba avie
meester bocero que lo non podie aver, 42, 7 (Ordenanza de Alfonso X del
afio 1254).
2. a) Que bien lo : que assi lo usaron de grand tienpo (aca), 44, 19
(Fuero de Alfonso X del ano 1254). inando que assi lo tonien, 45, 1 (Ibid. ).
3. a) Que yo lo. No examples.
b) Que lo yo. en razon de los molinos del azeyte que lea yo dy, 16,
3 (Privilegio de Alfonso X del afio 1253). £ en los castiellos que les yo di,
32, 25 (Carta de Alfonso X del ano 1254). Vos sabedes bien qite vos yo
embi6 una mi carta, 38, 3 (Carta de Alfonso X del ano 1254). por este
heredamiento que vos yo do, 11, 22 (Privilegio de Alfonso X del afio 1253).
10.
LEYENDA DE LOS INFANTES DE LARA.
(De la Cronica General que mando componer el Bey Don Alfonso X.)
I-VIL
1. a) Que, si quando non lo. 1) Que : et por que non me puedo dellos
uengar (que yo YTZ) , 218, 24 ; bien uos digo uerdad, que non me plaze por
que esta carrera queredes yr, 222, 26 ; mas tantos eran muchos los moros
que no les podien dar cabo, 230, 1. 2) Si. No example. 3) Quando : ca
7*071 uos es mester, 222, 15.
b) Que, si, quando lo non. 2) Que : mas pero tanto uos ruego que me
non firades otra uez, 211, 10 ; desuio la cabeca del colpe, assi quel non
alcanco sinon poco por ell onbro, 211, 14 ; bien cuedo que lo non faze por al
sinon por que nos enamoremos dell (q. n. lo IBYT), 213, 21 ; yo non
querria uiuir un dia mas fasta quel non uengaese, 214, 23 ; et demientre que
el fuere en mio poder, conseiouos quel non fagades ningun mal ( que nol T,
q. n. le G), 215, 19 ; assi quel non pudo ella defender (que nol T, q. n. le
B, q. n. lo I), 215, 22 ; pesoles tanto que non pudiera mas, assi que se non
sopieron y dar conseio, 216, 22 ; por tal que se non guardassen dell ( non se
Z) , 217, 23 ; por que lo non descrubiesse, 219, 15 ; pues que me non queredes
creer de conseio (pues non me I), 223, 12 ; et que lo non deuie fazer por
ninguna manera, 223, 21 ; Certas uos digo que lo non tengo por bien (non lo
all MSS. exc. EA), 226, 11 ; non uos incal tomar gananfias que uos non
seran prouechosas, 227, 18. 2) Si. No example. 3) Quando : ca vos
lo non podria soffrir (non uos lo I), 211, 11.
2. a) Que, si, quando bien lo. 1) Que : que bien me semeia que non
fablan de otro cauallero tanto como de uos, 210, 16 ; de guisa que luegol fizo
crebar la sangre por las narizes, 211, 21. 2) SI: si bien me queredes, 219,
2. 3) Quando : a esse logar mismo, ca y uos atendre yo, 219, 7 ; ca mucho
nos tienen los moros en grand quexa, 231, 8.
b) Que, si, quando lo bien. No examples.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. Ill
3. a) Que, si, quando yo lo. 1) Quo: que cuedarien JOB omnes </'/•• el
lea basteciera la muerte, 224, 4. 2) Si: et si uos lo touieredes por bien de
yr comigo, plazer me a ende mucho (lo uos I), 221, 11. 3) Quando : et
non ayas miedo, ca yo te amparare, 214, 7 ; et soffrit uos, ca yo vos prometo
que tal derecho uos de ende, 217, 10 ; ca el los atendrie en la uega de
Febroa, 222, 5 ; fijos, non ayades miedo, ca yo IMS dire lo que es, 228, 2.
b) Que, si, quando lo yo. 1) Que: etsiassi fuere, non nos escape a
uida, aunquel ella quiera amparar (aunque ella lo q. IB, mager que lo e.
(quellal T) q. YT, maguer q. e. 1. q. GZ), 215, 11 ; et enuia uos rogar
quel enuiedes recabdo de lo que uos ell enuia dezir, 220, 10 ; de cosa que uos
yo diga (yo only in EA), 223, 13; mas todo esto que les el mandaua fazer,
227, 15 ; ca los agueros, que uos yo dixe que nos eran contrallos, 229, 4 ; el
espada con que los el descabecava, 235, 9. 2) Si : et si lo uos touieredes por
bien, gradesoer vos lo ya mucho (uos lo YGZ), 218, 8. 3) Quando : muy
rico verna de Cordoua don Goncaluo, si Dios quisiere, dol yo enuio, 219, 19.
4. Que, si, quando lo 1) Que: este que uos esta mi carta
aduze, 218, 23 ; pues que lo a fazer auedes (q. de (a I) fazerlo au. YTGI),
219, 22 ; pora yr fazer aquello que les el tio mandara (el t. les IB, les
mandaua su tio YTZ), 227, 17; Pues que les esto ouo dicho (esto les all
except EA), 228, 10. 2) Si : et si uos alguna cosa fizo (si alg. EIBG), 215,
18. 3) Quando : Roy Blasquez quando les aquello oyo (les lacking in YTZGA ),
224, 18 ; Quando le aquello oyo dezir (q. le aq. E, q. aq. le I, q. aq. all the
others), 228, 18 ; et Munno Salido assi cuemo le esto ouo dicho (como le o.
d. e. I, como esto dixo YTZ), 228, 22.
5. Anomalous, par Dios, tio, nunqua uos yo meresci porque uos tan
grand colpe me diessedes (yo nunca uos I, n. u. lo yo B), 211, 7 ; mas si
fuxiere contra donna Llanbla, yl ella acogiere (e o ela coller A, e ella lo ac.
all ere. E), 215, 10 ; en mal ora uos yo crie (yo uos cr. I), 223, 12 ; que
mucho mas la non deuie el temer (non la G), 223, 25 ; don Munno Salido,
siempre me uos fustes contrallo en quanto pudiestes (uos lacking in YTZAB),
225, 5 ; en mal dia uos yo do soldadas (do yo TB), 225, 18 ; pues que uos
veedes a Munno Salido assi me desondrar, et me non dades derecho dell
(non me all exc. EA), 225, 19.
11.
GBAN CONQUISTA DE ULTRAMAB.
Caps. I-XX.
1. a) 1) Que non lo: e pues que nol fal!6, torn&se, pdg. 505, col. 1, 1.
37 ; porque non se aseguraba en el Soldan, 506, 2, 35 ; que non era home
que las viese que non se maravillase ende mucho, 507, 1, 15 ; el rio es de
guisa . . . que non lo pueden sacar contra & aquella parte, 510, 1, 37 ; habian
de ir en pos los enemigos, que non les tomaba sabor de folgar, 510, 2, 18 ; asf
que non los osaron cometer, 511, 2, 5 ; 6" dijol que nol semejaba que era su
honra, 514, 1, 8. 2) Si non lo : si non les diese sos quitaciones, 506, 2, 4.
112 WINTHEOP HOLT CHENERY.
b) Que |o non : e* por destorbar aquel fecho en cuanto el pudiese que
se non cumpliese, 505, 1, 10 ; e" agua tanta, que lea non fallesciese a homes
nin a bestias, 505, 1, 29 ; porque los non levase el viento, 506, 1, 38 ; 6
aquellos que se non pagaren ende, 508, 1, 8 ; porque lo non entendiese Sira-
con, 509, 2, 11 ; 4 que si todos hf fincasen que les non abondaria, 512, 12 ; E
pora facer atal fecho, que se non debiera trabajar tan buen home como 41,
513, 2, 50 ; en tal manera que me segure que me non fagan mal sus yentes,
513, 2, 55.
3. a) Que yo lo : non porque el se connosciese nin se toviese por heredero
de Mafomat, 508, 2, 33.
b) Que |o yo : do quier que les el mandase, 505, 1, 4 ; 4 faced aquello
que vos el dira, 508, 1, 31.
4. Quando lo estonces dijieron los mandaderos del Key que lo
firmase 41, asi como lo el Key ficiera, 507, 2, 18.
12a,
DON JUAN MANUEL: EL LIBRO DE LA CAZA.
1. a) Que non lo. assi que non se falla que del Key tolomeo aca
ningun Key nin otro omne tanto fiziesse por ello commo el, p. 1, 1. 4 ; Et
como quiera que non los tienen por tan nobles, 10, 10 ; Pero que non se
atraviessen las penolas, 10, 24 ; que non se despante nin dexe de comer por
ellos, 22, 8 ; en guisa que non le pueda morder, 30, 19 ; Et quando los
falcones fueren bien tenprados por aventura que non la fallaren, 34, 4 ; que
guarde que non le de acomer, 35, 11 ; Pero non lo quiere el aqui nonbrar
por que non lo tengan por muy chufador, 43, 20 ; Et que sea guardado que
non, les de el sereno enla cabeca, 51, 15 ; dize Don iohan que non se atreuio
el a fablar enella ninguna cosa, 54, 29 ; Et la mejor maestria para esto es
que non los dexen estar tanto, 64, 16 ; Et dize don iohan que non se acuerda
delos nonbres, 89, 5 ; mas dize que non sele ajerto de cacar en ellas, 89, 20.
b) Que |o non. Otrosi quando los canes llegan ala grua que esta der-
ribada quanto bien la toman en guardar los falcones queles non fazen ningun
mal, p. 8, 1. 1 ; que los azores quelo non pueden fazer, 8, 7 ; Delos bornis
non quiso Don iohan fablar mucho porque se non paga mucho dela su caca,
14, 8 ; en guisa queles non fagan mal, 17, 23 ; en guisa que la non pierda y,
25, 10 ; avn que algunas cosas menguen que se non pueden fazer, 27, 15 ; e
que guarde qud non de acomer nunca de vna carne sobre otra, 35, 8 ; e deuen
los guardar que los non pongan en ningun lugar, 35, 24 ; guardandol toda
bia quel non fagan enojo, 36, 8 ; Otro si si quisiere cacar garca ese atreuiere
enel falcon que traen, quel non pierda por alto deuen poner gentes enlos
lugares do entendiere que se Rendra 38, 24 ; Pero el quela non puede matar,
39, 20 ; Et por que muchas otras cosas puede acaesfer en esta caca que se
non podrian escriuir, 41, 5 ; Et si oviere vn torniello £erca delas piuelas por
que se non pueda Keuoluer el falcon sera mejor, 49, 11 ; Et quando alguna
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 113
cosa se errassc que se non pudiese conplir. 49, 14 ; ca muchas cosas contesce
alos falcones enlas mudas que se non puede poner en escripto, 49, 17 ; Pero
quel non deuen dar grant papo, 58, 29 ; Otrosi le deuen guardar quel non
tengan en casa muy fria, 60, 24 ; e quando los cacadores las dizen los qudo
non son tan cacadores que son chufadores (1. quelo non son tanto dizen que),
80, 20 ; mas los qudo non quieren creer lo tienen por mentira, 80, 25.
2. a) Si non lo. mas si non se vafia non deue consentir que se eche
de noche, 17, 11 ; Et si non gelo pudieren fazer tragar deuen le meter vn
peda9O del por la garganta, 63, 5 ; Et si non lo fazen ca9arian con otro omne
mas non commo pertenes9e cacar al grant sefior, 67, 15.
b) Si lo non. ca si lo non fuessen mas seria la su t-n/a enojosa que
sabrosa, 19, 17 ; e si la non quisiere tomar volando deuen le tirar por el
cordel, 24, 29 ; Et silo, non mature dar le inuy grant fanbre, 26, 5.
3. a) Quando non lo. Fero si el falconero fuere bueno el porna Recabdo
atodo ca non se podria poner en escripto todas las maneras, 30, 7 ; Et alo en
otro lugar do non lo solia auer, 83, 6.
b) Quando lo non. No example.
4. a) Que bien lo. Et dize Don iohan quelos que estos dos omes fazen
en caca de acores que mas lo tienne el por marauilla que por sabiduria de
caca, 8, 19 ; Et dize Don iohan que yal contes9io ael esto, 16, 13 ; por que
es vna delas cosas que mas le enbraue9e, 17, 7 ; Et dize que ya lo fizo el
muchas vezes, 43, 10 ; Et dize don iohan que avn el fasta que don Remon
durche vino que asi las via cacar, 44, 13 ; que asi lo fare escriuir, 46, 28 ; Et
commo fueren cresciendo las tiseras, que asi les deuen menguar la quantia,
50, 20 ; Et dize don iohan que ya la mato y con falcones, 79, 24.
b) Que lo bien. e desque la assi matare deuen gela montar, 26, 12;
ca por que esten magros e fanbrientos comerian tanto quelo nunca podrian
toller, 47, 23 ; saluo ende quanto tafie alo que se allega la teorica alo que
se agora vsa enlas enfermedades delos falcones, 55, 1.
5. Si bien lo and Si lo bien. No examples.
6. Quando bien lo. quando bien se ayudan los vnos alos otros, 7, 24.
7. a) Que (si, etc.) yo lo. Et la mejor maestria para esto es que non
los dexen estar tanto los picos por fazer fasta quel seles comience aquebrar e
adesgajar, 64, 17.
b) Que (si, etc.) lo yo. Et quien pudiesse vsar dela caca commo
la el ordeno non erraria en ninguna cosa, 3, 7 ; e mienlre lo el comiere, 29,
27 ; Et el falconero deue caualgar mientre lo el come, 37, 26.
8. Que lo . los girifaltes de que se agora mas pagan, 9, 4 ; Los
escuros de que se agora mas pagan, 11, 9 ; Los neblis de que se agora mas
pagan, 12, 21 ; Los baharis de que se agora mas pagan, 13, 22 ; que es la
cosa del mundo de que se ellos mas espantan, 16, 17 ; e vn acor torcuelo
perdiguero de que se omne non duela mucho, 67, 4.
114 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
12b.
DON JUAN MANUEL: EL LIBRO DEL CAVALLEKO ET DEL ESCUDERO.
1. a) Quo, si, quando no lo. 1) Quo: Et el capatero, quenon se guardaua
de aquello, 443, 20 ; por razon que non se podra escusar, 444, 26 ; et tan
aprouechosa cosa es para los buenos et para los entendudos el saber, que non
lo pueden olbidar por los bienes corporales, 464, 22 ; que quando uiniere,
que falle que non le enpepio la su partida dende, 465, 6 ; et que han nobres
(1. nombres) senalados que non se entiendan en otra arte, 468, 16 ; por que
non le oyo nin fablo enello tantas vegadas, por que complida mente lo
pudiesse entender, 471, 7 ; Et para que esten las otras que non se mueben et
que lieuen los otros fiellos, 478, 8 ; Ca sin dubda non ha omne que bien
pare mientes en los fechos que nuestro sefior dios faze en el 9ielo et en la
tierra, que non le deua mucho amar et loar, 479, 11 ; que non le deua mucho
temer, 479, 15 ; fara quanto pudiere por que non lo acabe, 495, 1 ; Todas
estas aves biuen enlos yermos et enla tierra seca, que non se aprouechan del
agua, 503, 21 ; o que vsan non por la arte dela estrelleria mas por los juyzios
que non se pueden saber verdadera mente, 511, 24 ; deuemos crer que lo
lieua por que non le quiere dexar en este mundo, 514, 27 ; Ca 9ierto es que
los que son malos et fazen malas obras et non se arepienten nin se quieren
partir dellas, que si alguna buena andan9a an, que non les puede durar
mucho, 515, 26.
2) Si : Et si non lo guardare, todo su fecho traera errado, 486, 29 ; si non
vos lo (1. si non vos) diere la repuesta tan complida, non uos marabilledes,
505, 15 ; Ca si non lo fiziessen, venir les ya ende dos danos muy grandes,
513, 26 ; Et por esta Eazon si non uos pudiere responder complida mente,
516, 1.
3) Quando, etc. Et do non las fallare fechas, fazer las el buenas et
derechas, 451, 14 ; Ca vnos toman muy grant pesar quando non seles faze lo
que ellos quieren, 459, 21.
b) Que, si, quando lo non. 1) Que: Et faziendose estas cosas commo
deuen, conplido es el Sacramento, avn que se non fagan y otros conplimientos
et noblezas, 453, 18 ; Et alas otras que vos non respondi, 461, 27 ; por que
cuydo que vos non fazen tan grant mengua delas saber, 461, 28 ; Quiero vos
agora dezir vnas cosas que vos non dixe entonce, 475, 16 ; et da a entender
alos suyos que lo non ha, 476, 26 ; Ca non a cosa por bien dicha que sea,
que, sy muchas vegadas se dize vna en por (1. pos) otra, que se non enoje
della el que la oye, 482, 22 ; Mas las otras estrellas (que) lieua el 9ielo,
segund que de suso es dicho, son las que se non mueuen et son puestas aseme-
janza, 485, 25 ; Et en las cosas quel non cumplen mucho non fazen grant
fuerpa enle ayudar enellas, 494, 26 ; Et avn yo tengo que vos non podria
responder complida mente, 512, 24 ; la otro (sic) es que las cosas que el a
de librar que las non acomiende a otri, 519, 29 ; Ay muchas otras tierras
enque las non conoscen nin se podrian criar, 520, 13 ; y que non son muy
OBJECT-PKONOUN8 IN OLD SPANISH. 115
aprouechosas nin de muy buen recabdo, que me non pongades culpa nin vos
marabilledes ende, 520, 32 ; Et alo que me rogastes que vos non fiziesse mas
preguntas, 521, 23 ; Capitulo L° primo, commo el cauallero anyiano Kogo
al cauallero nouel que se non partiesse del ante de su finamiento, 522, 8 ;
Et Rogo al cauallero man9ebo que se non partiesse del fasta que el nuestro
seftor cumpliesse la su voluntad enel, 522, 20.
2) SI: o por que el (1. quel) seria dafio o verguenca, si lo non diesse,
457, 8 ; non vos deuedes marabillar, si uos non respondiere por aquellas
palabras mismas que son de aquella arte, 468, 18 ; non uos deuedes mara-
billar, si uos non respondiere aesta pregunta tan complida mente commo
avia mester, 471, 11 ; Et por ende non vos marabilledes, si uos non Respon-
diere aesto complida mente, 485, 17.
3) Quando, etc. Et como deue fazer enel tiempo dela guerra o dela paz,
si fue (1. fuesse) muy Rico o abon(d)ado, Et commo quando lo non fuesse
tanto, 458, 4.
2. a) Que bien lo : Et por que todas las cosas se fazen por lo que omne oye
o por lo que dize, segunt que ya vos he dicho de suso, 481, 24 ; commo quier
que nunca le puede fablar, 487, 17 ; Ca non ha cosa que mas se allegue con
las maneras del cauallero que ser montero, 498, 25 ; que asaz le faze dios
merced complida, si enesto acierta commo deue, 507, 3 ; Et deuen ser fiertos
que mucho bien que fagan que nunca les sera olbidado, 519, 12.
b) Que lo bien : Et lo que se agora alongo, tengo que non fue si non
por mi peccado, 447, 10 ; Et otrosi tiene(n) que vna delas cosas que la mas
acrescenta, es meter en scripto las cosas que fallan, 449, 4 ; Et asi es la
caualleria conplida, ca todas las otras cosas que se y fazen son por bendi-
yiones, 454, 1 ; Et aesta pregunta que me agora fazedes, que cosa son los
angeles, 470, 9 : vos deuedes saber que vna delas cosas que se mas vsa enla
caualleria, 475, 17 ; et por que los omnes se aprouechen et se siruan dellas
en aquellas cosas quele(s) mas cumplieren, 507, 22.
3. a) Que, si, quando yo lo. 1) Que: Et quando falardes algunas (1.
alguna) que non ay muy buen recado, tened por pierto que yo la fiz poner
en este libro, 447, 21 ; Pero ala pregunta que uos me feziestes, commo quier
que en pocas palabras non uos podria conplida mente responder, 451, 8 ; Et
cred que yo me tengo por muy tenudo de vos seruir, 462, 18 ; Que muchas
delas preguntas que vos me feziestes son de artes et de sciencias 9iertas, 467,
28 ; el fara en guisa que en qual quier maneraque ayades cuydo (1. caydo)
en qual quier destos pecados, que el vos dara consejo, 491, 27 ; Por que dios
quiso dar galardon al alma del cauallero a^iano por los seruifios que el le
avia fechos, 522, 15. 2) Si: Pero deue omne auer buena speranca que, si
el se aripiente, quel abra dios rnercet, 493, 11 ; Et pues veo que vos tantas
bue(n)as cosas me auedes mostrado, que si yo las pudiesse aprender, que me
cu(m)plian asaz, 521, 27.
b) Que, si, quando lo yo. 1) Que: Mas de que lo vos vierdes, si me
enviades dezir que vos pagardes ende, 448, 12 ; Pero si atodas estas pre-
116 WINTHBOP HOLT CHENERY.
guntas que me vos fazedes non vos pudiere yo responder por aquellas palabras
mismas, 467, 26 ; Et por ende, por que las preguntas que me vos fazedes son
de sciencias senaladas, 468, 15 ; Et pues qui (1. que) en esias cosas que me
vos preguntades yo he pensado quanto el mi flaco entendimiento alcancar
(sic) puede, 472, 27 ; asi commo otras uegadas vos dixe, todas vuestras pre-
guntas que me vos fazedes son dobladas, 486, 11 ; Et bien cred, fijo, que el
que esto dixere et lo entendiere es (1. en) estaguisaqueel (1. quel)seria muy
graue del dar Respuesta a todas preguntas que me vos feziestes, 488, 16 ;
Mas la manera en que omne semeja al mundo et es todas las cosas, es en
esta manera que vos yo dire, 488, 17 ; Fijo, fasta aqui todas las preguntas
que me vos feziestes fueron senziellas et dobladas, 494, 1 ; Fijo, commo quier
que yo tengo que atantas preguntas et tan estranas que me vos feziestes, que
yo non vos podria responder, 520, 25 ; Otrosi vos ruego que, pues a estas
preguntas que me vos feziestes uos he respondido enla manera que yo pude,
520, 33 ; para enmendar alguna cosa anuestro senor dios de muchos yerros
et pecados quel yo fiz, 521, 5 ; non se commo pudiesse gradescer adios et a
vos quanto bien tengo que me ha venido en estas cosas que me vos mostrastes,
521, 19 ; Et pierto seed que yo tengo que todas estas cosas que me vos avedes
mostrado son todas muy buenas, 521, 22. 2) Si. No example. 3) Quando,
etc. Et pues vos yo reprehendo por que mudastes la manera et las preguntas,
495, 10 ; Et ruego vos que, pues vosyo respondi atodas las preguntas, 521, 8.
4. Que, s' 1° — : Mas todas estas criancas et labores, quanto a aproue-
chamiento del alma pueden ser apouechamiento (1. aprouechosas) et pue-
de(n) ser danosas, et todo es segund la entencion aque el omne lo faze, Ca
tan bien del criar delos fijos delos omnes buenos commo delas labores dichas,
si las omne faze a entenyion que dios sea ende seruido, 511, 11.
5. Anomalous examples: Et alo que cosa son los angeles, fijo, ya vosyo
dixe quelas preguntas que me fazedes son de muchas sgiencias, 470, 6 ; Ca
la razon le da entender que por quantas me^edes le dios fizo et por el poder
que ha de acalonar, 510, 20.
6. Infinitive, a) Por non lo. No example.
b) Por lo non: Bien veo, dixo el cauallero anciano, que non puedo
escusar de uos non responder, 467, 18 ; Por ende, por vos non detener, Ke-
sponder vos he en pocas palabras, 468, 21 ; et por vos non alongar mucho el
libro, et por que non fazen grant mengua, non vos los quiero y poner todos
nombrada mente, 506, 18 ; que lo dexare por vos non fazer enojo, 521, 26.
12c.
JUAN MANUEL : LIBRO DE PATRONIO.
Exemplos I-XXV.
1. a) Que, si, quando non lo. 1) Que: p. 4, 1. 2 ; 6, 11; 11, 21; 14,
18 ; 17, 23 ; 19, 19 ; 22, 1 ; 29, 27 ; 35, 4 ; 35, 11 ; 41, 2 ; 42, 20 ; 47, 3 ;
47, 14 ; 48, 9 ; 50, 8 ; 54, 17 ; 59, 11 ; 62, 1 ; 62, 12 ; 64, 17 ; 66, 16 ; 75,
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 117
9 ; 76, 5 ; 79, 13 ; 80, 23 ; 83, 16, 2) Si : 12, 20 ; 17, 20 ; 65, 8. 3)
Quando : 54, 21 ; 65, 3 ; 94, 13.
b) Que, si, quando lo non. 1) Que: 7, 4 ; 8, 6 ; 9, 10; 17, 9 ; 18,
1 ; 18, 4 ; 18, 6 ; 19, 13 ; 20, 22 ; 27, 10 ; 28, 6 ; 31, 2 ; 34, 16 ; 41, 17 ;
43, 18 ; 55, 27 ; 56, 2 ; 57, 6 ; 59, 21 ; 70, 8 ; 72, 16 ; 72, 24 ; 73, 1 ; 76,
2 ; 76, 7 ; 77, 21 ; 78, 5 ; 79, 7 ; 80, 14 ; 86, 11 ; 93, 1 ; 94, 7. 2, 3) Si,
quando. No examples.
2. a) Que, si, quando bien lo. 1) Que: 19, 5; 22, 16; 40, 11 ; 42, 7 ;
66, 24; 79, 13. 2) Si: 50, 16. 3) Quando: 68, 26.
b) Que, si, quando lo bien. 1) Que: 3, 24; 3, 25; 34, 9 ; 72, 10.
2) Si: 72, 13. 3) Quando. No example.
3. a) Que, si, quando yo lo. 1) Que: 27, 3 ; 47, 15 ; 28, 21 ; 74, 23 ;
95, 19. 2) Si: 76, 1. 3) Quando: 47, 3; 80, 5.
b) Que, si, quando lo yo. 1) Que: 5, 2 ; 25, 2 ; 43, 7; 94, 12; 94,
15. 2) Si: No example. 3) Quando: 35, 20; 73, 3.
4. Que, si, quando lo . 1) Que: et aun los que lo tanbien non
entendieren, 4, 23. 2, 3) Si, quando. No examples.
5. Anomalous, et non paredes mientes a quanto floxa mente voslo el
miega, 69, 9. (Nota : el eingeschoben, indem das vorhergehende el ausfallt
MEAGg.)
6. a) For non lo: 52, 27.
13.
JUAN Kuiz DE HITA.
1. a) Type que non lo.
Si algunos, lo que non los conssejo, quisieren vsar del loco amor, p. 6, 1. 18.
rrespondieron los griegos que non las merespien, stz. 47, v. 3.
achaque le leuanta por que non le de del pan, 93, 2.
vete, dil que me non quiera, que nol quiero nil amo, 101, 4.
mas, por que non me tengades por dezidor medroso, 161, 3.
que nol debatas luego, por mucho que se enforce, 187, 4.
pero que non la asueluo del furto tan ayna, 366, 2.
ella diz que nonlo tenie, 366, 4.
mucho mas te diria Saluo que non me atrevo, 421, 4.
Non puede ser quien mal casa que non se arrepienta, 436, 4.
] cuytado yo que fare que non la puedo yo catar ! 590, 2.
non puede ser que non se mueva canpana que se tafie, 623, 4.
rrepelo he que non me oydes esto que uos he fablado, 663, 1.
fablad tanto E tal cosa que non vos a Repintades (t. e., arrepintades), 721, 2.
que fablar lo que nonle cunple, 722, 3.
grand amor e grand ssana non puede sser que non se mueva, 731, 4.
fasta que non vos dexen en las puertas llumasos, 744, 4.
i por que amas la duefia que non te precia nada ? 786, 3.
118 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
en duefia que non vos quiere nin catar, nin ver ? 788, 2.
esta lleno de doblas, fascas que non lo entyendo, 826, 4.
pues el amor lo quiere i por que non vos juntades ? 843, 4.
E lechiga buena que nol coste nada, 1033, 5.
leuantose byen alegre de lo que non me pesa, 1078, 2.
e los de santa eulalya, por que non se ensanen, 1239, 2.
ally Eesponden todos que non gelo conssejauan, 1256, 1.
que non lea ponen onrra la qual deujan aver, 1390, 4.
nin desir nin cometer lo que non le es dado, 1407, 2 (MS. T . . . . lo que le
non es ....).
.... non me mates, que non te podre fartar, 1426, 3.
vino ael vn diablo por que nonlo perrdiese, 1456, 2.
. . . . i por que non me acorres ? 1465, 2.
e dil que non me diga de aquestas tus fasanas, 1493, 4.
.... quanto ha que non vos vy ! 1509, 2.
que non gelo desdenedes, pues que mas traher non pud, 1511, 2 (G. non gelo
desdenedes pues mas traer non pud ; T. que non gela ....).
de tu memoria amarga non es que non se espante, 1520, 4.
Contra los tres prinfipales que non se ayunten de consuno, 1603, 1.
e, Senor, vos veredes, maguer que non me alabo, 1624, 3.
b) Type que lo non.
Ante viene de la fraqueza dela natura humana que es enel ome, que se non
puede escapar de pecado, p. 4, 1. 26.
E viene otrosi dela mengua del buen entendimiento, que lo non ha estonce,
por que ome piensa vanidades de pecado, p. 4, 1. 30.
vete, dil que me non quiera, que nol quiero nil amo, stz. 101, v. 4.
pero mayor poder rretuvo en sy que les non dio, 148, 4.
los que te non prouaron en buen dya nasfieron, 198, 1.
E maguer te presiese, crey que te non matarya, 214, 2.
Responde, i que te fiz ? £ por que me non diste dicha en quantas que ame ?
215, 2.
Por cobdi9ia feciste atroya destroyr, por la mancana escripta, quese non
deuiera escreuir, 223, 2.
rruegal que te non mienta, muestral buen amor, 443, 2.
iqual carrera tomare que me non vaya matar? 590, 1.
atodos dy por rrespuesta quela non queria non, de aquella feria mi cuerpo
que tiene mi coracon, 658, 3.
ella diz : "pues fue casada creed que se non arrepienta, 711, 3 (G. ... cret
ya que ella cons ienta (sic) ).
por que me non es agradescido nin me es gualardonado, 717, 4 (G. por que
non me es . . . . ) .
.... por que quieres departyr con duena que te non quiere nin escuchar
ninoyr? 789, 3.
fago que me non acuerdo ella va comecallo, 808, 3 (G. fago que non me . . . )•
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 119
mas quelo non tenia e por end veniera, 903, 4 (G. mas que non lo . . . . ).
pasaron byen dos dias que me non pud leuantar, 944, 3.
de la que te non pagares, veyla e Rye e calla, 1021, 4.
E yo, desque saly de todo aqueste Koydo torne Rogar adios que me non
diese aoluido, 1043, 4 (G. que non me ....).
creo que se me non detenga en las carne9erias, 1072, 3 (G. tengo que non
senos tenga ....).
aty, carnal goloso, que te non coydas fartar, 1075, 3 (G. que non te cuydas
).
rrespondiole el flayre quel non serian perdonados, 9erca desto le dixo muchos
buenos ditados, 1129, 3.
En esto yerran mucho, que lo non pueden faser, 1145, 1.
diz : "vos que me guardades creo que me non tomedes, 1208, 3 (G
que non me tenedes).
al que gela non besa, tenian lo por villano, 1246, 3.
pocos ally falle que me non llamasen padrasto, 1311, 4.
2. a) Type si non lo.
synon lo enpendian dentro en la natura de la muger mesquina, otro non les
atura, stz. 263, v. 3.
sy non se faze lo tuyo tomas yra E sana, 304, 3.
dar te ha lo que non coydas sy non te das vagar, 629, 4.
ssy nol dan delas espuelas al cauallo faron, 641, 1.
los plaseres de la vyda perdedes si non se amata, 857, 4.
b) Type si lo non.
si la non sigo, non vso, el amor se perdera, 689, 1.
ella, si me non engafia, paresje que ama ami, 706, 2.
sy me non mesturardes, dire vos vna pastija, 916, 4.
3. Type quando non lo.
dexose de araenazar do non gelo precian nada, 63, 4.
dixe : "querer do non me quieren ffaria vna nada," 106, 2.
rresponder do non me Hainan es vanidad prouada, 106, 3.
pues Sea te soldada, pues non te quise matar, 254, 4.
el diablo lo lieua quando non se rrecabda, 275, 4, etc.
b) Type quando lo non.
algun triste ditado que podiese ella saber, que cantase con tristeza, pues la
non podia aver, 91, 4.
erre todo el camino como quien lo non sabia, 974, 4 (G. . . . quien non sabia).
4. a) Type que bien lo.
que sienpre lo loemos en prosa E en canto, stz. 11, v. 3.
que ante les convenia con sus sabios disputar, 48, 2.
que nunca lo diste avno, pidiendo telo 9iento, 248, 4.
.... aqual quier que ally se atiene, 385, 3.
que mas la encendia . . . ., 522, 3.
lo que mas le defienden . . . ., 523, 2.
120 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
que nuncalo beuiera, prouolo por su dano, 529, 2 (G. que lo non veujera
).
Al que demos lo beue . . . . , 548, 3.
ca el que mucho se alaba . . . ., 557, 4.
. . . . i quiera dios que bien me Responda 1 650, 2.
.... que asas vos he fablado, 717, 1.
que mat se laua la cara . . . ., 741, 4.
.... que mal le place, 778, 4.
.... maguer que sienpre vos encargo, 832, 2.
lo que nunca se pude Reparar . . . . , 887, 3.
.... Ruego te que bien las mires, 908, 4.
desque bien la guarde . . . ., 933, 3.
.... que byen te dare que yantes, 967, 3.
.... que ansy te conbidas, 976, 1.
.... delo que mas me asano, 1070, 4.
Por que tanto me tardo . . . ., 1382, 1.
. . . . de lo que ayer me fableste, 1140, 2.
.... Segund que ya te digo, 1481, 1.
lo que eras le fablardes . . . ., 1496, 2.
.... que antes me era abierta, 1519, 4.
.... que luego la vayan asoterrar, 1539, 1.
.... que ansy nos de vallen, 1601, 1.
b) Type que lo bien.
mas arde e mas se quema qual quier que te mas ama, 197, 2.
quando su muger dalyda los cabellos le corto enque avia la fuerca, E desgwe
la byen cobro, asy mesmo con yra e aotros muchos mato, 308, 3.
El que la mucho sygue, 519, 1.
El quela mucho vsa, enel cora9on lo tyene, maguer se le escusa, 519, 1.
enlo quel mucho piden anda muy er^endida, 525, 4 (G. . . . que mucho
piden).
la que te oy defama, eras te querra Amigo, 573, 3.
desque vy que me mal yua, fuy me dende sanudo, 1310, 4 (G, T, . . . . que
mal me yua ....).
con ellas estas cantigas que vos aqui Robre, 1319, 2.
los mas nobles presenta la duena ques mas prefia, 1338, 3 (G, T, . . . que
mas se pre9ia).
5. a) Type si bien lo.
cantas : "letatus sum" — sy ally se detiene, 385, 2.
sy mucho la amades mas vos tyene amado, 798, 4.
b) Type si lo bien. No example.
6. a) Type quando bien lo.
del miedo que he avido ; quando bien me lo cato, 1382, 2.
b) Type quando lo bien.
amor, quien te mas sygue, quemas le cuerpo e alma, 197, 3.
eras te dara la puerta quien te oy fierra el postigo, 573, 2.
OBJECT-PBONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 121
7. a) Type que yo lo.
que yo le quebrantaria . . . ., 62, 1.
el rrey que tu nos diste, por nuestras bozes vanas, 203, 3.
luego que tu la vieres . . . . , 647, 2.
.... aquesto que yo vos he fablado, 732, 4.
ella verdat me dixo, quiere lo que vos queredes ; perdet esa tristesa, que vos
lo prouaredes, 802, 4.
lo que yo vos promety . . . . , 822, 2.
lo que tu me dema(n)das . . . ., 844, 1.
.... que yo la guardare byen, 851, 1.
ami non retebdes, fija, que vos lo meres9edes, 878, 3.
desseda son las cuerdas con que ella se tyraua, 1268, 4.
de lo que yo te dixe, luego me arrepenty, 1368, 3.
enlo que tu me discs, en(e)llo penssare, 1395, 2 (G. en lo que me tu discs
).
que yo te ayudare coiiio lo suelo far, 1467, 4.
.... por que tu me sopesas, 1470, 4.
Cada dia le discs que tu le fartaras, 1530, 1.
b) Type que lo yo.
segund quelo yo deseo vos e yo nos abracemos, 684, 3.
abiuo la culebra, ante quela el asa, 1350, 3.
<jue lieues esta carta ante que gelo yo diga, 1497, 2.
8. a) Type si yo lo.
] Sy el i'os de la su gloria ! 1659, 3.
E si tu me tyrares coyta e pesares, 1688, 1.
b) Type si lo yo.
sy las yo dexiese comenfarien a rreyr, 447, 4.
sy vos yo enganare, el ami lo demande, 817, 4 (G. sy yo a uos engaflare
).
9. a) Type quando yo lo.
de quanta yo te digo, tu sabes que non miento, 185, 4.
anda todo el mundo quando tu lo rretientas, 212, 2. .
b) Type quando lo yo.
mas quanto esta mafiana del camino non he cura, pues vos yo tengo, hermana,
aqui enesta verdura, 989, 4.
10. Type que lo dios.
Segund le dios le demostrase fazer sefias con la mano, 51, 3 (G. quales dios
les mostrase fazer signos).
de lo quel pertenesce non sea des defioso ; con lo quel dios diere, paselo
bien fermoso, 780, 4.
Senora, non querades tan horafia ser, quered salyr al mundo aque vos dios
fizo nascer, 917, 4.
11. Anomalous examples.
non se ffuerte nin rrepio que se contigo tope, 187, 3.
122 WINTHBOP HOLT CHENERY.
ssy vos lo bien sopiesedes qual es e quan pre9iado, vos queriades aquesto
que yo vos he fablado, 732, 3 (G. si vos bien lo . . , .)•
de eso que vos rrescelades ya vos yo asseguro, 1482, 2 (G. . . . yo uos
asseguro).
12. Infinitive.
a) Type por non lo.
en suma vos lo cuento por non vos detener, 1269, 1 (G. . . . por vos non
detener).
vy muchas en la tienda ; mas por non vos detener, e por que enojo soso non
vos querria ser, 1301, 2 (G. . . . por uos non detener .... enojoso non
vos quiero seer ; T. . . . por vos non demeter .... enojo non vos
queria faser).
b) Type por lo non.
E por las non dezir se fazen des amigos, 165, 2.
14.
POEMA DE ALFONSO ONCENO.
1. a) Que, si, quando non lo. 1) Que: Disc me mi voluntad Que non
me dexe rregnar, stz. 179, v. 4. 2, 3) Si, quando, etc. No examples.
b) Que, si quando lo non. 1) Que: A los moros pases dio, Que les
non fesiesen guerra, 2, 2 ; Sy uos queredes valer E que uos non mengue
cossa, 117, 2 ; Muchas vegadas afrontar Que gelos non detouiesse, 309, 4 ;
Que les non fincase cossa Por oro ni por auer, 551, 1 ; Por tal de la guardar,
Que se non boluiesen, 1000, 3 ; E por tienpos de la vuestra vida, Que vos
non ffagan mas guerra, 1128, 4 ; Ssus vassal! os sse faran, Por que uos non
quieren bien, 1139, 4 ; Sodes rey de grand bondad, Quel non ssaben otro tal,
1160, 2 ; Vos tenedes vna armada, Que los non puedan fuir, 1245, 2 ; Mas
que nos non aueredes, Que yo tengo grant poder, 1246, 3 ; Nunca pasare el
puerto, Fasta que los non vengar, 1402, 4 ; Por mi e por mi conpanna, Que
uos non dexes perder, 1507, 2 ; E otros fueron finados, De que me non biene
emiente, 2183, 2 ; Que le non dedes mas guerra, 2392, 1. 2) Si: O que
luego lo matassen Ssi lo non podiessen prender, 262, 2 ; E sse ge lo non
tomassen, Que la villa rrenderian, 354, 3 ; E sera grand marauilla, Ssi nos
non desfercar luego, 1091, 4 ; E vos si vos non quexardes. 1107, 1. 3)
Quando : No example.
2. a) Que, si, quando bien lo. 1) Que: E que bien sse ayudasen Por
sienpre de la ssu vida, 164, 3 ; Que ayna sse guissase, E a Toro fuese ssu via,
201 , 1 ; O que luego lo matassen, Ssi lo non podiessen prender, 262, 1 ;
Enbiaron menssageria. . . . Que luego lo enbiasse, 303, 4 ; Con fijos dalgo
omenaje, Que nunca vos faga danno, 591, 4 ; Vos sodes el rrey mejor, Que
nunca se bi6 en Seuilla, 1212, 4 ; Que atti los fallaredes, 1414, 4 ; E sepades
sin dubdanpa Que luego las quitaran, 2206, 2. 2, 3) Si, Quando, etc. No
examples.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 123
b) Que, si, quando lo bien. 1) Que: Por que lo mucho am6, 382, 1; La
honrra fue del rrey de Benamarin, Que se y perdio aquel dia, 1840, 4 ; Poderio
e altura Que te sienpre ennoble9i6, 1881, 2 ; Que te sienpre ayud6, 1882, 3.
2) Si : El cauallo vos matardn Sy vos mucho quexaredes, 36, 2 ; Don lohan,
sy me bien quier, 180, 1 ; Que muy mester lo aueraos, Ssi nos la luego enbiar,
1012, 3 ; Reyna, si bos bien ama, Yo sse que verna luego, 1171, 3 ; El rrey
de Castiella quier Prouar si me bien queredes, 1181, 4 ; Vos, si me bien
queredes, 1246, 1 ; Si lo asi fesieras, sennor, 1379, 1 ; Si vos bien quisier
seruir, 1452, 2. 3) Quando: Quien lo mucho desea, 854, 4; Epuesme&ien
comensastes, 1185, 3.
3. a) Que, si, quando yo lo. 1) Que: Que el los queria heredar, 947, 3;
Que uos me dedes sin falla, Esta honrra, si uos ploguier, 1285, 1 ; El que se
a ti tornase, Que tu lo rre9ibirias, 1505, 4. 2, 3) Si, Quando, etc. No
examples.
b) Que, si, quando lo yo. 1) Que: Ssy quisier que lo yo uea, 205, 4.
2, 3) Si, Quando, etc. No examples.
4. Que, si, quando lo . 1) Que: Que le de Dios parte venga, 7, 1 ;
El rrey cobro ssu tierra, Que le forpada tenia, 322, 4 ; E perdemos buen
ssennor, Que nos mucho bien fasia, 880, 4 ; Pues que te quebr6 la Ian9a,
Que te muy bien defendia, 900, 4 ; Brunnuelos con manteca, Que le el grand
ssennor enbia, 926, 4 ; E nos non ssomos joglares, Que vos algo demandemos,
1113, 4 ; Que bos muy grand los dard, E por sienpre bien querria, 1469, 1 ;
El que se a ti tornase, 1505, 3 ; Que los muy bien rres9ebia, 1955, 4 ; Al rrey
de Fran9ia llego, Que lo muy bien rres9ebio, 2199, 4 ; E la costa desta
guerra, Que bos la muy bien pagasen, 2339, 2. 2) Si: Si le en tuerto
yoguierdes, 136, 3 ; Sy vos otro rey ffaser Mai tuerto sin derecho, 137, 1 ;
Si la por muger tomaredes, 186, 2 ; Ssi lo, ssennor, non matades, 240, 3 ;
Ssi le Dios non acorrier, 561, 4 ; E sy le desto ploguier, 568, 1 ; Si le uos
non acorredes, 632, 4 ; Se me la el rrey pedia, 1027, 1 ; Si lo del mundo
non echo, 1104, 3 ; Amos tomaredes muerte, Ssi uos en canpo fallades,
1109, 4 ; Si le bos non acorredes, 1198, 4 ; Si nos 41 non falser, 1298, 4 ;
E si lo esto proguier, 1299, 1 ; Si le bos non fallescedes, 1350, 4 ; Si lo en
canpo fallar, 1628, 1 ; E si la el buen rrey ganar, 2052, 1 ; Si le Dios non
acorrier, 2293, 4 ; Si le Dios non acorrier, 2328, 4 ; E si le esto progier,
2374, 1 ; Si me Dios dexar beuir, 2402, 2. 3) Quando: Todo el mundo
fablara De commo lo Dios conplio, 320, 2 ; De la lid fue fablar, En commo
la Dios ven9i6, 836, 2 ; Quando me Tarifa nenbra, 2382, 1.
5. Anomalous examples. \ Ya nunca vos yo mas ver6 ! 893, 4 ; Que todos
se bien guissasen, 945, 1 ; Por esto vos mucho amo, 1253, 1 ; Todos se muy
bien guisaron, 1261, 1 ; Ayna se bien guisasen, 1268, 2 ; Luego se bien
guisaron, 1292, 1 ; Sienpre bos lo a bien ternan, 1393, 4 ; Que todos se
bien per^iban, 1454, 1 ; El fijo de Santa Maria, Le non mostr6 atal plaser,
1588, 4 ; Todos se luego ayuntaron, 1653, 1 ; Todos se luego ferieron A
muy grandes espadadas, 2276, 3.
124 WINTHEOP HOLT CHENERY.
6. Infinitive. 1) POP lo bien. Para sse bien ayudar, 179, 2; For sse
mejor conosper, 788, 4 ; For se mejor esfor9ar, 2436, 3. 2) Por lo
Para se con 61 benir, 1225, 4 ; Por nos todos defender, 1921, 4.
Note : Add to § 3b 1 ) Quo lo yo the following : Si lo en canpo fallar
A tanto que lo yo bea, Non podrd escapar, 1628, 2.
15.
EIMADO DE PALACIO.
(Stzs. 1-500.)
1. a) Quo, si, quando non lo. 1) Quo: Que son siete por cuenta, aquf
porne" yo quales, Que non las conplir omne son pecados mortales, 174, 4 ;
.... cuydan que non lo vemos, 209, 3 ; Porque non se les pueda el pobre
defender, 262, 3 ; . . . que non me sienta el viento, 431, 4 ; E faran vuestra
cuenta que non vos finque nada, 458, 2 ; Pero vn ruego vos fago, que non vos
cueste nada, 458, 3. 2) Si: Si non le cost6 quarenta ayer de vn omne
estranno, 299, 4 ; Si non gelas atienpra aquel Sennor justo e santo, 407, 2.
3) Quando, etc. : Ca non nos emendamos nin avemos mejoria, 189, 3.
b) Que, si, quando lo non. 1) Que: Con aqueste pecado Adam fue
mal fadado, Que lo que lo non cunplia quiso auer prouado, 165, 4. 2) SI :
E pe"nalo gravemente, si se non arrepienta, 87, 4 ; Sy me non acorriere la tu
noble bondat, 127, 3. 2) Quando: No example.
2. a) Que, si, quando bien lo. 1) Que: . . . que nunca fe seruy, 17, 1 ;
El que asi lofase, 31, 2 ; ... que siempre se enfiende, 58, 4 ; ... que mal les
gradespi, 84, 4 ; . . . que asds me ha dannado, 92, 4 ; Que nunca lo dexara,
159, 4 ; Porque asy lo guarde de yr a mal logar, 176, 4 ; . . . que asy lo
puedas fer, 278, 4 ; £ Que plaser es al tal quando bien me lo comido ? 483, 4.
2) Si: Los fisicos lo disen, si bien me viene miente, 191, 1 ; Sy asi se
engannaren, ellos son los culpados, 288, 4. 2) Quando, etc. : E quien mal
lo fisiere auer sa de perder, 4, 4 ; Ca qu,ien asy lo fase quierese egualar, 36,
2 ; Quantos mal se fallaron por mal gusto seguir, 167, 2.
b) Que, si, quando lo bien. 1) Que: Sera de grant ventura el que lo
bien entiende, 58, 2 ; Por lo que te mal fiso, deues a Dios tener, 181, 2 ; Si
los que las bien saben, las touiesen en cura, 291, 2. 2) Si: No example.
3) Quando, etc.: A Josep, su hermano, quando le asi vendieron, 96, 2;
Quien lo asi fisiere, que Dios non lo defienda, 141, 4 ; E quien lo bien fisier,
175, 4.
3. a) Que, si, quando yo lo. 1) Que: Non SB", Sennor, otra arma que
tome" en tal sason, Con que yo me defienda de aquesta tribula9ion, 400, 2.
2) Si. No example. 3) Quando, etc.: De como el lo fiso enxienplo
tomaras, 179, 2 ; E como nos las regimes Dios nos quiera defender, 353, 3.
b) Que, si, quando lo yo. 1) Que: Otorgame, Sennor, que la yo
pueda aver, 13, 3 ; Amaban a las gentes que les el defendi6, 46, 4 ; E que lo
el perdiese, yo poco curaria, 56, 3 ; Segunt que lo yo entiendo mucho es
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 125
menester, 239, 3 ; Bien sabe que les el pone e t6males la verdat, 369, 2. 2)
Si. No example. 3) Quando: Ca Dios me ayudara por quien la yo partiera,
140, 4 ; Ca como lo tu fisieres asy seras judgado, 183, 4 ; A quien les tu acotas,
por los tu bien faser, 393, 2.
4. Que, si, quando lo . 1) Que: Que les yo aquf dire", ca los he
bien usados, 63, 4 ; Saluo obedien9ia que, les leal deuemos, 236, 4. 2) SI:
Sy te saluar cobdi9ias, dello te guardaras, 50, 4. 3) Quando: No example.
5. Anomalous. Asi lea Dios aluengue los dias de las vidas, E despues
deste mundo las almas an perdidas, 229, 3 ; Por ende non se quexe quien
a Dios va rogar Alguna petition e la non va recabdar, 412, 2 ; Yo nunca
vi tal ome e tan descomunal, O vos yo tirar4 dende asy Dios me val, 432, 4.
6. Infinitive, a) Por non lo: Por non le ver de enojo, 135, 3.
b) Por lo bien: Al pr&ximo ynocente por ale (1. pora) mas dannar,
53, 4 ; Mas tibio e muy frio para se mal perder, 120, 2 ; Fabian vnos con
otros por las siempre abaxar, 363, 3. Por lo : A quien les tu apotas,
por los tu bien faser, 393, 2. Anomalous: Devemos perdonarle e le non
tener rencura, 408, 2.
16.
POEMA DE JOSE.
1. Que, si, quando non lo. 1) Que: Stz. 28, v. 4; 51, 2; 56, 2; 119,
3 ; 151, 3 ; 152, 1 ; 155, 4 ; 162, 2 ; 217, 1 ; 260, 2. 2) SI: 1, 4 ; 2, 4 ;
198, 4 ; 269, 3 ; 271, 4. 3) Quando, etc.: 196, 3 ; 244, 3.
2. Que, si, quando yo lo. 1) Que: 3, 3 ; 31, 2 ; 50, 1 ; 64, 3 ; 64, 4 ;
65, 4 ; 84, 3 ; 93, 4 ; 99, 2 ; 122, 4 ; 143, 1 ; 190, 3 ; 208, 3 ; 209, 2. 2)
Si: 172, 4 ; 189, 3 ; 261, 3. 3) Quando: 280, 3.
17.
VISION DE FlLIBEBTO.
1. a) Que no lo: ipor que non me rrespondes? p. 52, 1. 3 ; bien creo que
non te huele agora tan bien, 52, 16 ; non te conuiene dizer ya rruegos nin
oraf iones que non te valdera aqui ninguna cosa, 58, 28.
b) Que lo no. No example.
2. Quando no lo. pues no me quisiste rregir, 54, 26.
3. a) Que, si, quando bien lo : que bien te lo puedo dezir, 55, 22 ; et sy nunca
te llegaras alas costunbres, 56, 21 ; que tanta es la su clueldat que tadavia se
ensanna mas, 57, 24 ; non ayas della rre9elo que aqui tela mudaremos, 58,
33 ; ansy como sy nunca lo uiesen conocido, 59, 35.
b) Que lo bien. dime quien es el que te asy ha quebrantado, 51, 12 ;
nin tyenes otrosy carnes mortesynas de que te mucho pagauas, 52, 13.
4. a) Que, si, quando yo lo: quando yo te pedia gallynas dauas me tu
gallynas e capones, 54, 39 ; quando yo veya que tu me demandauas las cosas,
55, 27 ; que yo te queria dar carne, 55, 37.
126 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
b) Quo lo yo : el dote que le tu mandaste, 52, 32 ; nin vna delas mejores
que les tu dexaste, 52, 41.
5. a) Que dios lo: que tu agora dixiste que dios te auia criado, 53, 35;
et tu non quisiste vsar deste sennorio que dios te dio sobre mi, 54, 8.
b) Quo lo dios: pues sy te dios crio para que touieses sennorio sobre
mi, 53, 42.
18.
PEDRO DE LTJNA : DE LAS CONSOLACIONES DE LA VIDA HUMANA.
LIBROS 1-X.
1. Quo no lo: p. 565, col. 1, 1. 58; 565, 1, 60; 566, 1, 16; 566, 2, 25;
571, 1, 3; 573, 2, 29; 575, 2, 55; 578, 1, 9; 578, 1, 54; 588, 2, 6;
588, 2, 9.
2. a) Qua, si, quando bien lo. 1) Quo: porque despues los pueda desam-
parar, 570, 1, 44. 3) Quando : ca mucho te aprovecha, 581, 2, 1.
b) Que, si, quando lo bien. 1) Que: commo dice san Gregorio en
una homelia : "Los males que nos aqui comprimen, & Dios ir nos costrinen,"
564, 2, 32 ; Onde en otro lugar (San Gregorio) dice : "Los males que nos
aqui apremien," 572, 2, 5.
3. a) Que, si yo lo. No example.
b) Que, si lo yo : ca Dios dijo d Abraham : "Sal de la tu tierra 6 de
la tu generacion, 4 ven & la tierra que te yo mostrare"," 573, 2, 15 ; Et eso
mesrao dijo d Isaaque : "Fuelga en la tierra que te yo dire"," 573, 2, 17.
19a.
El, LlBRO DE EXENPLOS POR A. B. C. DE CLIMENTE SANCHEZ,
ARCHIDIACEE DE VALDERAS, MS. DE PARIS.
Romania, vn. 48 Iff.
1. a) Que non lo. No. 2. por que non los vea, p. 485, 1. 35. No. 11.
porque non se le cayese el quesso, 490, 10- No. 19. e dixo que non le
aplazia ninguna dellas, 494, 34 ; que si por ventura por non le conoscer que
non le resceberia en su cassa, 495, 6 ; pues assy es, porque non me (de) mas
duras penas, 495, 29. No. 23. e el encantador le dixo que non lo podria
fazer, 497, 33 ; E el veyendo que non sse podria encobrir, 499, 2. No. 28.
ca la justicia de Dios lo fazia durar que non se desatasse, 502, 15. No. 49.
mas algunos son que non se pueden domar, 512, 24. No. 61. e descobriole
vn secretto que non le avia rreuelado, 518, 36 ; El dixo que non le pre-
guntaua quien fuesse, 519, 1. No. 65. dixo que non la podia dezir, 523, 2.
b) Que lo non. No. 33. e desyue lo non fezieron, p. 504, 1. 34. No.
48. en manera que le non podian enpes9er, 511, 42.
2. a) Si non lo. No. 62. Sy me non consientes, yo degollare vn sieruo
tuyo, 520, 3.
b) SI lo non. No. 23. e si lo non fazeys, de aqui a poco me vereys
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 127
muerta, 498, 23. No. 30. deuemos ser rreprehendidos de ser desagrauiadoa
(sic) si los non amamos e los non honrramos, 503, 19.
3. a) Que (si) yo lo. No. 8. mando a vno que tenia su forno que a
qualquier que el le enbiase, 488, 36. No. 19. e con todas las otras cosas que
el le avia de dar, 494, 39. No. 20. lo que tu me cuentas, 496, 14; lo que tu
me cuentas, 496, 16 ; e sy tu me fueses agrades9ido, 496, 38.
b) Que lo yo. No. 23. e ssi fezieres lo que te d dixiere, tu averas lo
que deseas, 497, 35.
4. Et to non. No. 30. si los non amamos e los non horirramos, 503, 19.
19b.
EL LIBRO DE LOS ENXEMPLOS, MS. DE MADRID.
I-C.
1. a) Que, si, quando non lo. 1) Quo: pag. 448, col. 1, 1. 12; 449, 1,
13 ; 453, 2, 29 ; 454, 1, 3 ; 457, 1, 19 ; 457, 1, 30 ; 457, 2, 12 ; 458, 1, 14 ;
462, 1, 23 ; 465, 1, 45 ; 466, 2, 48 ; 468, 2, 50 ; 469, 1, 9 ; 470, 1, 46 ; 470,
2, 37; 471, 1, 4. 2) Si: 460, 1, 51. 3) Quando: 461, 2, 11.
b) Que, si, quando lo non. 1) Que: El monje respodi6 : "Si estonce
ansi te lo mand6, agora manda que lo non fagas," 456, 2, 37 ; Estonce ellos
con vergiienza luego fueron 6 trayeron el cuerpo de Dios, 6 cognosci&lo, e"
veyendo que lo non podie tomar, 467, 1, 35. 2, 3) No example.
2. a) Que, si, quando bien lo. 1) Que: 452, 1, 21 ; 458, 2, 29 ; 462, 1,
28 ; 462, 2, 24 ; 462, 2, 36 ; 469, 1, 47 ; 469, 2, 19. 2) Si : 459, 1, 36 ;
461, 1, 23. 3) Quando : No example.
3. a) Que, si, quando yo lo. 1) Que: e* lo que elte dijo, 448, 2, 15 ; E
de que ella se vio Inego ansf menospreciada, 468, 1, 40 ; segun que ella les
mandara, 468, 1, 53 ; jur6 que el lo oyera, 471, 1, 6. 2) Si: si tu lo viste,
451, 1, 39. 3) Quando: No example.
b) Que, si, quando lo yo. 1) Que: El viejo partio los panes segun
que le el pedio, & nunca ces6 de dar limosna, 465, 2, 43. 2, 3) Si, quando,
etc. No example.
20a.
LA ESTORIA DE LOS QuATRO DoTORES DE LA SANTA EGLESIA
CAPITTJLOS I-C.
1. a) Que, si, quando non lo. 1) Que: tan alto en el ayre que non las
podia ver omne, p. 9, 1. 13 ; por que non se ordenase, 11, 23 ; deues temer
que non te venga, 12, 3 ; e que non se queria conuerter a la fe, 13, 3 ; veamos
que non la demos, 22, 12 ; por que non vesitas a Jesu Christo, e por que non
le fablas, 24, 14 ; e por que non le oyes ? 24, 15 ; el que non lo dio a si mismo,
28, 15 ; las cosas que non se conpran, 30, 11 ; por que non se tome, 30, 18 ;
e commo sepan que non lo daua (1. deuan ) prometer, 33, 1 ; por que non lo
tomara, 35, 8 ; que non lo afrontase, 35, 23 ; e fazes que non se faga mala
128 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
cosa, 44, 15 ; lo que non se podia conplir, 46, 32 ; por que non se quiso
enmendar, 48, 27 ; e que non me 9ier(r)es la puerta, 52, 4 ; Veo muchos que
non se pueden partir, 66, 29 ; que non te enseiies tu mismo, 68, 34 ; que non se
desgastase el frayre, 71, 16 ; que non lo dexases, 72, 14 ; mas faze engano que
non lo sufre, 73, 20 ; por que non me demandes demandas de mocos, 77, 10 ; por
que non nos fartemos del pan, 82, 26 ; E gran cosa es que non lo semejas, 91,
7 ; Tien mientes, hermano, que non te conuiene auer, 96, 9 ; por que non lo
pudo fallar, 112, 12 ; non te amonesto que non te glories, 114, 10 ; e que non
te alabes de la nobleza del linage, 114, 11 ; e que non se rroyan los cabellos,
115, 17 ; mas enfaniendo (1. enfiniendo) que non lo saben, 120, 28 ; por que
non le conuiene, 120, 30 ; Nunca oyas palabra desonesta, que non te ensanes,
127, 12 ; que non te diga el saluador, 156, 21 ; lo que non se cubre, 160, 15 ;
temer que non lo pierda, 163, 23 ; Por que non te oya, 172, 30 ; por que non
me preenda, 173, 1 ; ca puede ser que non me muerda, 173, 15 ; e foyr que
non los vea ninguno, 173, 20 ; por que non se ensenoree a mi, 174, 6 ; por
que non te sientes muerto, 175, 26 ; que non la espriman, 176, 26 ; mas por
que non la he, 178, 12 ; enfine que non lo sabe, 182, 25 ; lo que non te pueda
tirar, 184, 17 ; e defindiole que non se fuese, 193, 3 ; por que non te pueden
res9ibir? 196, 2 ; o por que non me enpeesciese, 198, 11 ; de los que non me
fazian bien, 200, 27 ; veed que non vos engane ninguno, 210, 1 ; del manjar
que non se corronpe, 213, 13 ; que non lo sopiese yo, 222, 1 ; por que non me
paresfia, 222, 16. 2) Si : com(m)o si non lo ayas dicho a ninguno, 75, 13 ;
si non lo as, librado eres de gran carga, 76, 1 ; si non se grauase por non
fialdat, 140, 15 ; sy non te guardares, 148, 28 ; si non lo fizieres (1. fueres)
por obra, 152, 28 ; mas aun sy non la dixieres, 170, 26 ; e sy non lo faga, te
ensanes a mi, 196, 29 ; E malo so yo, sy non te ame, 196, 30 ; si non las
sostouieses, 198, 22 ; si non la aborresciese, 218, 3. 3) Quando, etc. e
comma non lo fallase, 16, 24 ; las quales non me acuerdo, 64, 11 ; a la qual
non nos seria mandado poner ningund talante, 154, 14 ; commo non te
mengue ninguna cosa, 196, 13 ; Ca non se mueue el oydor a correr, 208, 9 ;
el qual non se pierde, 215, 2.
b) Que lo non: Por tanto la biuda manyebiella, que se non puede
detener o non quiere, ante tome marido que al diablo, 149, 26.
2. a) Que, si, quando bien lo. 1) Que: No example. 2) Si: e non se si
osi se diga segund nos, 82, 19. 3) Quando, etc. por los quales luego se
quebrantan los cuerpos delicados, 126, 22 ; quando aun se escalentaua la
sangre de nuestro senor, 128, 5 ; quando mas se delecta por las cosas falladas,
230, 2.
b) Que lo bien : e commo lo quisiese tirar a la parte de las mogeres,
por que lo mal trayesen ellas e lo echasen de la eglesia, 11, 27.
3. a) Que, si, quando yo lo. 1) Que: enpero non que ettos se fagan
peores, por que tu les puedes dar, 25, 16 ; al que yo me quiero dar, 28, 14 ;
dizen que el lo tiro, 137, 22 ; si non lo que tu nos fazes, 198, 17 ; que tu le
desplugieses, 226, 13. 2) Si. No example. 3) Quando, etc. E commo el
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 129
le dixiese esto, 39, 8 ; la qual tu le dueles, 155, 10 ; comma yo te demandase,
210, 28 ; quando tu la pegas con engludo, 213, 18.
b) Que, si, quando lo yo. 1) Quo: por letras de los de Cartaina, que
dexasen en pastor de la eglesia de Bona a sant Agustin, maguer que lo d
non quisiese, 47, 5. 2) Si. No example. 3) Quando, etc. El tu talante
pone nonbre a la tu obra, e comma lo tu fazes, asi es estimado, 25, 3.
4. Que lo : See above, que lo el non, 47, 5.
20b.
LA ESTORIA DEL KEY ANEMUK E DE IOSAPHAT E DE BARLAAM.
1. a) Que, si, quando non lo. 1) Que: sabe que non te consintire, p.
336, 1. 18 ; e fuy de los mis ojos que non te vea de aqui adelante, 336, 29 ;
mandandoles que non le feziesen manifiesta, 337, 19 , mandando nos que non
te feziesemos manifiesta, 340, 2 ; queriendo encobrir que non los viese, 340,
31 ; Non te dixe que non te dulieses, 345, 40 ; la cosa perdida que non se
puede cobrar, 345, 41 ; tomar las cosas que non se pueden tomar, 345, 42 ;
mas aun guardando los que non los furten, 346, 3 ; maguer que non te
aproueche, 350, 24 ; semejame que non las podrias fazer, 356, 3 ; E por
que non le quiso obedescer, 359, 15 ; que guardan deligentemente que non los
furten los ladrones, 368, 36 ; E por que conoscas, rey, que non lo digo de mi
mismo, 371, 26 ; quiero que non me prefies cosa, 376, 12 ; Mas por que non
me dexas, 384, 4 ; e llorando jurauan que. non lo dexarian yr, 388, 18 ; fasta
que non lo podiesen ver, 390, 8 ; Ca yo mucho he rogado a dios que non nos
partiesemos de en vno, 393, 28. 2) Si : nin podre auer en otra manera
estas cosas, sy non me faga christiano, 338, 15 ; yo esta tomare sy non me la
negares, 354, 24 ; asy commo sy non le ouiese acaes9ido ninguna cosa triste,
362, 18. 3) Quando : el qual non te enganara commo cuydo, 344, 3 ; £ com-
mo non la siguen oy muchos ? 352, 33 ; ca non me podedes auer por rrey de
aqui adelante, 389, 3.
b) Que, si, quando lo non. 1) Que : Kuegote que te non enperezes en
dezir me tales senales, 349, 45. 2) Si : enpero sy me non rrefusare commo
a non digno por las mis maldades, 346, 22 ; E sylo non quieres fazer, 358, 14.
3) Quando. No example.
2. a) Que, si, quando bien lo. 1) Que : por que ya me esta, a las puertas,
393, 8. 2) Si. No example. 3) Quando : ca nunca me podras rreuocar
de la buena confesion, 364, 36.
b) Que, si, quando lo bien. 1) Que : sy non yo mismo que te asy
ordene e tales cosas te fize, 365, 6 ; E despues sacaron lo dende los que lo y
pusieron, 379, 39. 2, 3) Si, quando. No examples.
3. a) Que, si, quando yo lo. 1, 2) Que, si. No examples. 3) Quando:
commo tu me echaste en tristeza, 363, 41.
b) Que, si, quando lo yo. 1) Que : fizo segund que leel dixo, 339, 6 ;
las cosas que te yo dixe, 345, 39 ; i por qual rrazon la carga que te tu apre-
suras tirar, la quieres a mi poner ? 388, 30. 2, 3) Si, quando. No examples.
9
130 WINTHBOP HOLT CHENERY.
21a.
AMADIS DE GAULA.
Libro I, Capftulos I-XX.
1. a) Que, si, quando no lo. 1) Qua : e* rue"govos yue no se os olvide este
lugar, p. 4, col. 1, 1. 51 ; porque no la viese llorar, 5, 1, 41 ; Y mandanclo-
los apartar, que no se hablasen, 6, 1, 27 ; porque no lo viesen, 8, 1, 26 ; Bien
ha quince annos, dijo el Rey, que no la hobo, 11, 1, 39, miraba mucho al
rey Perion, no por padre, que no lo sabia, 11, 2, 22 ; y el que no la amparare
pierdala, 16, 2, 24 ; cornenzo de fuir por la plaza acd e alia entre la espada
del Doncel del Mar, que no lo dejaba holgar, 16, 2, 58 ; e" jurar que no me
llamass sino el su vencido, 17, 1, 61 ; E conto cuanto con £1 le aviniera en
la floresta, sino el duelo, que no lo os6 decir, 19, 2, 41 ; e" a el digo que no
vos quite el don, 26, 2, 27 ; no s4 por que" me acometistes, que no vos lo
merecf, 29, 2, 41 ; Mucho os ruego, dijo el, que no me detengais, 30, 1, 3 ;
Digovos que no os precio nada, 32, 2, 40 ; No ha eso menester ; que no os
dejare si no jurais que . . . ., 32, 2, 54 ; aun^we no me paresce que caballero
debe . . . ., 34, 2, 38 ; herialo de rnuy grandes golpes e muy & menudo, que
no le dejaba holgar, 34, 2, 46 ; entendio el en el talante del otro que no le
hobiera merced, 35, 2, 13 ; e" si por aventura este caballero su hermano,
que veis a caballo, fuese vencido, que no se pudiese sobre esta razon mas
combatir, 46, 2, 22 ; faz callar aquella cativa gente, que no nos dejan holgar
en nuestro sueno, 48, 1, 53 ; e hare" que no os trabajeis, 49, 2, 34 ; 6
vayainos de aqui antes que el diablo acd lo torne ; que no me puedo sufrir
sobre esta pierna, 51, 2, 48 ; Podria ser, dijo Amadfs, que no os vernia bien
dello, 52, 1, 43 ; que no le hizo Dios tan sin ventura, 53, 2, 36 ; pero fue"
acorrido de dos doncellas, que no lo debieran amar poco, 54, 1, 34.
2 ) Si : que ninguno lo podria creer si no la viese, 49, 2, 53 ; demandan-
dole perdon si no lo habia tanto honrado, 54, 2, 23.
3) Quando, etc. 6 no de venir con gran soberbia & hacer tanto mal d
quien no te lo merece, 22, 2, 5 ; 6 maravillase como no lo halla, 36, 2, 19 ;
que vos tengo por loco en dar consejo d quien no os lo demanda, 52, 1, 42.
b) Que, si, quando lo no. 1) Que : si me vos prometeis como rey en
todo guardar la verdad, a que mas que ningun otro que lo no sea obligado
sois, 2, 2, 42 ; quiso sin vuestra sabiduria entrar por la puerta de que te no
catabas, 6, 2, 13 ; Eso, Sefior, dijo e"l, no lo quieras saber ; que te no tiene
pro alguno, 6, 2, 18 ; E fu&e, que la no pudo detener, 6, 2, 50 ; Ganddles,
que lo no entendia, dijo, 7, 1 , 7 ; Creo, Sefior, dijo Ganddles, que los habrels
de llevar ambos, que se no quieren partir, 8, 2, 16 ; La Reina era tan agra-
dada de como e"l servia, que lo no dejaba quitar delante su presencia, 8, 2,
57 ; El hombre bueno, temiendo que se le no fuese, envio d, decir, 15, 1, 55 ;
es tanto el mal, que vos lo no puedo decir, 15, 2, 58 ; Yo vos digo .... que
me no dejeis en ningun lugar dc los mas guardados, 16, 2, 17 ; y 41 todo
armado, que le no fallescia nada, 16, 2, 20 ; yo vos quiero decir un secrete,
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 131
que le no diria sino & mi corazon, 18, 2, 15 ; la Reina os ruega que os no
desarmeis sino en vuestra posada, 21, 2, 35 ; mas de te yo preciar no te
tiene pro, que te no haga raal, 22, 1, 61 ; & la espada entr6 tan dentro por 41,
que la no pudo sacar, 22, 2, 40 ; pero bien sabia que lo no hobiera el otro d41
si mas pudiera, 22, 2, 53 ; ni el trabajo pasado ni las llagas presentes no le
quitaron que se no levantase, 23, 2, 15 ; hablando siempre con la doncella,
que por 41 era detenida, que sc no partiese hasta que pudiese tomar armas,
23, 2, 17 ; 4 aun no ha siete dias qtie os lo no supiera decir, 30, 1, 31 ; que
aunyae la no viese, 32, 1, 10 ; 4 las doncellas le rogaron .... que se no
partiese de su compafia, 32, 1, 53 ; yo creo que no hay tan buena ni tan
hermosa que & vuestra bondad igual sea y que la no hayais, 33, 1, 58 ; pero
no de rnanera que se no defendiese tan bien, que no estaba allf tan ardid que
con 41 se osase combatir, 34, 2, 20 ; Locura demando Dardan cuando quiso
descender & pi4 con el caballero, que sc, no podia & 41 llegar en su caballo,
34, 2, 50 ; E tomando la espada por la punta, la metio por sf, que lo no
pudieron acorrer, 35, 1, 42 ; su soberbia 4 mala condicion facian que lo no
emplcase sino en injuria de muchos, 35, 1, 48 ; asf que, nada quedo que le
no dijese, 37, 1, 1 ; inas que sea con aquella medida que os no dejeis asf pa-
rescer ante los hombres, 37, 2, 31 ; 4 bien sabeis vos que lo no puede hacer,
38, 1, 21 ; 4 no habia hombre que lo viese que se no maravillase, 40, 1, 36 ;
mas los dos se tovieron tan bien, que los no pudieron mover de las sillas, 43,
2, 37 ; Seiiora, s4, aunque lo no conozco, 44, 2, 19; Porque no pasara por
aqui ninguno que suyo sea, que lo no mate, 45, 1, 24 ; 4 digoos, sefior cabal-
lero, que lo no tomo por mengua, 47, 2, 17 ; 4 Gandalin llevaba el Enano
porque le no fuyese, 48, 1, 16 ; 4 los otros que los miraban dieron voces que
lo no niatase, 48, 2, 29 ; 4 asi este como el otro que lo querian herir deman-
ddronle merced que los no matasc, 48, 2, 40 ; Lo que sera, de todos los malos
que se no emiendan, 48, 2, 61 ; 4 agora punad de dar cima d la batalla ; que
vos no dejar4 mas folgar, 50, 1, 4 ; justo es lo que demandais, 4 que lo no
fuese, conociendo vuestra mesura, lo haria de grado, 51, 2, 32 ; annquc
la no tenga con 41, la terne con vos, que lo mereceis, 51, 2, 57 ; 4 fu4 tan
mal trecho, que se no pudo le van tar, 52, 1, 56 ; c6mo Oriana no se osaba
apartar de Mabilia porque se no matase, 54, 1, 13.
2) Si : mas yo no le quitar4 si me no decis por qu4 dejistes que guardaba
muerte de muchos altos hombres, 7, 1, 51 ; mas la batalla no le quito si sc
no otorga por vcncido, 7, 1, 48 ; 4 si lo no hacian, descabezabalas, 15, 2,
32 ; Muerto eres, rey Abies, si te no otorgas por vencido, 22, 2, 45 , 4 cayera
si se no abrazara al cuello del caballo, 26, 1, 7 ; Cortadle la cabeza si vos no
diere mi amigo, que alia tiene preso en el castillo, 26, 1, 29 ; 4 si me no
metiere en mano la doncella que le fizo tener, 26, 1, 30 ; ; Ay sefior
caballero, si me no amparais de aquella doncella, muerto soy! 26, 1, 25;
Pues llegad a 41, dijo el gigante, 4 si lo no hiciere, sera por su dafio, 26, 2,
1 ; muerto soy si me no vengo deste traidor de enano, 30, 2, 8 ; que jamas
le haria amor si la no llevase a casa del rey Lisuarte, 32, 1, 24 ; 4 si os no
132 WINTHKOP HOLT CHENERY.
diere derecho, otra vez no fagais compafia a caballero extrafio, 38, 1, 15 ; e"
si lo no ficiere, decilde que me venga a ver ante que se parta, 39, 1, 11 ; 6" si
lo no hiciese, con razon podriamos decir ser mas corto de crianza que largo
de esfuerzo, 39, 1, 18 ; 6 Mabilia le vino a abrazar como si lo no hobiera
visto, 39, 1, 39 ; e" servira agora cuando caballero, si le no falta mesura, 39,
1, 42 ; Que la quemaria manana, dijo el Duque, si me no dijese a quo" metiese
al caballero en mi palacio, 43, 1, 1 ; Cierto, si me no vengase de vos, dijo
el caballero, nunca traeria armas, 52, 2, 11.
3) Quancio. etc. No example.
2. a) Que, si, quando bien lo. 1) Que: como quiera que mucho le dolia,
4, 2, 5 ; pues que asi te place, 6, 2, 20 ; aquella que tanto te ama, 6, 2, 22 ;
contra la voluntad de aquella que agora vos fara el primero perder, 6, 2,
29 ; que asi le pusieron nombre, 6, 2, 54 ; SB" que mas me desama, 7, 2, 17 ;
temiendo que asi lo faria, 10, 2, 51 ; que mucho me son menester parientes e"
amigos, 11, 2, 8 ; y que mucho vos ama, 13, 2, 29 ; Cabalgad, Senor, que
poco me contento deste lugar, 14, 2, 28 ; del Key, que tanlo lo desea, 14, 2,
45 ; de los buenos que agora se saben, 16, 1, 1 ; el caballero que alii los
hiciera venir, 17, 2, 30 ; que mucho me harels alegre, 18, 1, 19 ; No, dijo
ella, que nunca lo vi, 19, 1, 46 ; j que mucho os deseaba ver ! 19, 2, 32 ; donde
hallaron d Agrajes, que mucho se aquejaba, 20, 2, 4 ; asi como aquellos
que mucho las desamaban, 20, 2, 20 ; que nunca se pudo conocer en ellos
flaqueza ni cobardia, 22, 1, 52 ; Pues es el anillo del mundo que mas le
parece, 23, 2, 43 ; porque asi le habia sacado de tantos peligros, 24, 1, 45 ;
Matarla, dijo Urganda, que mucho la sufri, 26, 1, 44 ; asi como lo hard
vuestra gran valentia que aqui vos vi hacer, 26, 2, 15 ; Que no te vera mas
el que oca te envi6, 28, 1, 54 ; e" a la alevosa que aqui os trajo, 30, 2, 2 ; del
que agora os partistes, 32, 1, 18 ; pues que tanto se lo habian loado, 32, 1,
47 ; porque asi le loaban, 33, 1, 5 ; que asi me ayude Dios, yo creo que no
hay, 33, 1, 56 ; s4 que antes me consejarias muerte, 33, 1, 53 ; £ Dardan,
que mejor se cuidaba combatir de pie", 34, 2, 29 ; aquel caballero que aqui se
combati6, 35, 2, 16 ; mas no puedo estar de no facer lo que quisierdes, que
mucho vos amo e" precio, 38, 1, 29 ; 6 Galaor, que asi lo vi6 caer, 40, 1, 43 ;
6 mand6 que asi lo ficiese, 41, 1, 54 ; Y esto decia Amadis por le traer, que
mucho lo deseaba, 44, 2, 43 ; El le respondi6 que por que tanto le desamaba,
45, 1, 27 ; como quiera que asi me veais, 49, 1, 6 ; la mayor e" mas cruel
venganza que nunca se hizo, 49, 1, 45 ; La doncella, que asi la vi6, 53, 1,
42 ; j Ay Sefiora ! que~ poco seso este, que asi os dejais morir, 53, 2, 31 ; 6
fallo alii al rey Arban de Norgales, que mucho la amaba, 54, 2, 9.
2) Si : e" parescia muy hermosa, e" tan fresca como si entonces se pusiera,
26, 2, 47 ; pues bien creo yo que entendi6 41 en el talante del otro que no
le hobiera merced si a$i lo tuviera, 35, 2, 13.
8) Quando, etc. 6 la doncella de Denamarca, que de parte de Oriana &
A venia, como ya se vos dijo, 23, 1, 7.
b) Que, si, quando lo bien. 1) Que: e" por aquel que te mas ama, 6, 1,
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 133
51 ; que dijo que ya era fecho por aquel que te mas ama, 6, 2, 5 ; y preci6 al
caballero que lo tan bien guardara, 8, '_', 1 1 ; «' si fu4 bien recebido no es de
contar, 4 por al seraejante ella del ; que se mucho amaban, 9, 1, 21 ; Agr&jes,
que se mucho maravillaba qui4n seria el caballero, 19, 2, 25 ; de aquella que
os mucho ama, 23, 1, 25 ; bien h£ diez annos que allf esta, que la nunca vi6
ninguno, 26, 2, 44 ; qne le dijese qui4n era su sefiora, que la alii habia
enviado, 29, 1, 25 ; E la doncella que lo allt gui6 dijo, 30, 1, 46 ; con grande
angustia de Aldeva, que la mucho amaba, 30, 2, 60 ; Asf me ayude Dice,
dijo ella, no s4, que le nunca vi que me miembre, 34, 1, 7 ; dici4ndome las
cosas que vos mas agradaren, 37, 2, 37 ; La duefia, que lo mucho desamaba,
46, 2, 13 ; 4 luego se fueron ambos 4 tomaron sendas lanzas, las que les mas
contentaron, 47, 1, 37 ; Cierto, amigo, no te preciaba tanto como yo, el que
te aqui puso, 49, 1, 55 ; Lo que yo mando, dijo Amadfe, es que hagas lo que
te mas pluguiere, 52, 1, 19.
2 ) Si : ambos sois fi jos de reyes € muy fermosos ; si vos mucho amais, no
vos lo ternd ninguno & mal, 30, 1, 52.
3) Quando, etc. Haced, Seflor, en ello como vos mas pluguiere, 3, 1, 46 ;
4 las gentes de la villa estaban por las torres 4 por el muro 4 por los lugares
donde los mejor podian ver combatir, 34, 1, 50.
3. a) Que, si, quando yo lo. Que : Eso, dijo la doncella, dejad 6. mi ;
que yo lo remediar4, 3, 1, 17 ; que alM os queda otro corazon que yo vos
toniare", 3, 2, 28 ; les fizo jurar que en lo que el les preguntase verdad le
dijesen, 6. 1, 15 ; Sabe, Rey, que de lo que yo me reia fu4 de aquellas pala-
bras, 6, 2, 3 ; haria yo que el vos venciese, 7, 1, 50 ; Creed que yo la guardar4
como su madre lo haria, 10, 1, 53 ; 4 vio otra doncella con que ella se junt6,
13, 2, 2 ; [ Ay Sefior ! que ese traidor que matastes me ha tenido ano y
medio muerto y escarnido que no tome armas ; que el me hizo perder mi
nombre, 17, 1, 60 ; Aguardad un poco, dijo el Doncel del Mar ; que yo vos
dire1 del, 19, 1, 34 ; veis aquf el muy buen caballero de que yo os liable", 20,
1, 4 ; Por tu mal haces este ardimento ; que el te pone en este lago, 22, 2,
16 ; que ella os ama tanto, que de ligero no se podria contar, 23, 1, 33 ; vos
me negastes siempre el anillo que yo os diera, 24, 1, 2 ; de manera que ella se
iba tremiendo, 26, 1, 45 ; Pues pedildo, dijo 41 ; que yo lo otorgo, 27, 1, 46 ;
mucho debeis amar d, Dios, que el vos ama, 29, 1, 9 ; Ni por eso, dijo 41, no
quedar4 de lo saber ; que yo os seguire", 29, 1, 28 ; en mal punto acu entrastes,
que yo os far4 morir, 30, 2, 2 ; Si s4, dijo 41, que el me lo dijo, 31, 2, 56 ;
Haced lo que debeis si lo amais ; que el os ama sobre todas las cosas qne hoy
son amadas, 36, 1, 55 ; poryue ella lo amaba mas que otro anillo que tuviese,
36, 2, 4 ; 4 ayudadme & rogar todas lo que yo le pidiere, 39, 1, 43 ; Pues
mandaldo, que yo lo complire" fasta la muerte, 46, 2, 12 ; No ninguno, dijo
Amadfs ; que yo me entre", 48, 1, 61 ; Agora me dejad con 41, que yo le porn4
con aquellos que allf yacen, 48, 2, 8 ; 4 bien vos digo que la espada que el
me lleva querria mas que todo esto, 51, 2, 31.
2) Si : Si ellos me cometen, yo me defender4, 46, 2, 47.
134 WINTHEOP HOLT CHENERY.
3) Quando, etc. que no conocia ni sabia nada de como ella le amaba, 10,
2, 19 ; Asf sera como yo lo digo, dijo ella, 13, 2, 8 ; que asi acaecera como
yo lo digo, 13, 2, 15.
b) Que, si, quando lo yo. 1) Que: que otro por ti nunca lo sabra
fasta que te lo yo mande, 7, 1, 57 ; Sefior, mas quiero que me ws hirais, 8, 1,
51 ; Senores, sabed la verdad deste Doncel que llevais, que lo yo falle" en la
mar, 8, 2, 35 ; 6 pune de vivir con mi padre fasta que le yo mande lo que
faga, 18, 2, 30 ; 4 como quier que te yo desame mucho, te precio mas que a
ningun caballero con quien me yo combatiese, 22, 1, 59 ; e" procureis de
morar con su padre fasta que os ella mande, 23, 1, 37 ; e" por las palabras
que te yo dije le tomaste 6* le has criado, 27, 2, 7 ; que en qualquiera parte
que os yo viese era obligado a os querer e" amar, 37, 2, 46.
2) Si : Si me vos prometeis, dijo el Key, como leal doncella, de lo no
descubrir sino allf donde es razon, 2, 2, 30 ; si me vos prometeis como rey
en todo guardar la verdad, 2, 2, 41 ; Yo vos digo, dijo el Doncel del Mar,
si vos yo de aqui fuyere, que me no dejeis en ningun lugar de los mas
guardadop, 16, 2, 17 ; e si le yo viere decirle he mas de mi facienda, 29, 1,
21 ; Si los vos quereis saber, dijo ella, seguidme & mostrar vos la he de aqui
& cinco dias, 29, 1 , 26 ; Vedes la doncella, e" si la yo f orzara no me atendiera,
29, 2, 46 ; j Ay traidor ! dijo el caballero, en mal punto me hizo aca venir,
si lo yo hallo, 29, 2, 50 ; Amigas, dijo 41, si me vos prometeis, como leales
doncellas, de me tener poridad de a ninguno lo decir, yo os lo dire de
grado, 32, 1, 41 ; Si me til amas, se que antes me consejarias muerte que
vivir en tan gran cuita, deseando lo que no veo, 33, 1, 52.
3) Quando, etc. e* como quier que te yo desame mucho, te precio mas
que a ningun caballero con quien me yo combatiese, 22, 1, 60 ; gran desvarfo
fariades en dejar para tal honra el mejor rey del mundo e" tomar a un pobre
caballero como lo yo soy, 26, 2, 13 ; Pues te tu crees mejor te defender de pie"
que de caballo, apee"monos 4 defie'ndete, 34, 2, 36 ; Yo bien senti cuando me
el desarm6, mas todo me parescia como en suenos, 50, 2, 53.
4. Que, si, quando lo dios. 1) Que: No example. 2) Si: E a vos de"
honra, dijo ella, que alegria tengo agora mucho alongada, si me Dios remc-
dio no pone, 33, 2, 11 ; si me Dios salve, Seiior, dijo ella, yo he mucho
placer, 39, 1, 30. 3) Quando, etc. No example.
5. Que, si, quando lo . 1) Que: Senora, en buena hora nasci6 el
caballero que vos esta noche habra, 3, 2, 11 ; que no habia hombre que lo
viese que se del no espantase, 9, 2, 24 ; que no salira hombre ni entrant que
le yo no mate, si puedo, 28, 1, 24 ; 4 ahi albergaron con una duefia que les
mucha honra fizo, 33, 1, 8 ; E tomando la espada por la punta, la metio por
sf, que lo no pudieron acorrer, aunque se en ello trabajaron, 35, 1, 42.
2) Si : Yo vos digo, dijo el Doncel del Mar, si vos yo de aqui fuyere, que
me no dejeis en ningun lugar de los mas guardados, 16, 2, 17; y esto probare"
yo al mejor caballero del mundo, si me della fuese otorgado, 33, 1, 35.
3) Quando, etc. No example.
OBJECT-PKONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 13o
6. Anomalous examples. Dios no me ayude, dijo el Doncel, si .i mi grado
la vos sabreis, ni de otro por mi mandado, 19, 1, 21 ; No llevareis, dijo 61,
en tanto que las defender pueda, 32, 2, 32 ; Agora me no pesa de cosa que
me digais, dijo Amadis, 34, 1, 14 ; Galaor meti6 mano & su espada por le
poner miedo, 6 dijo : " O me tu guiaras, 6 dejaras aquf la cabeza, 39, 2, 33.
7. Infinitive, a) Por no lo, por bien lo. 1) Por no lo: qne por no se
guardar de lo ya dicho, 4, 1, 31 ; y dejose caer por no le atender otro golpe,
13, 1, 35 ; no vos lo otorgara por no me loar dello, 46, 1, 24.
2) Por bien lo. No example.
b) Por lo no, por lo bien. 1) Por lo no: 6 por vos no dar enojo, tengo
por bien que quedeis solo en la camera, 3, 1, 44 ; atapando los ojos por le no
ver, 9, 2, 27 ; 6 yo pense" que errara en su palabra en me no decir que mi
padre era, 11, 1, 47 ; 4 fu£se yendo contra su castillo por lo no ver matar,
42, 2, 37 ; 4 aquel que me ama en me no ver ni saber de mf, 49, 2, 16 ; \ Ay
Dios ! que mal haces en me no responder ! 51, 1, 13.
2) Por lo bien : no tuvo acuerdo de lo alii tornar, 2, 1, 38 ; que por alguna
parte del te entrara alguno para te algo tornar, 6, 1, 39 ; y mas vos digo,
que de la, vos amar, no podriades dello ganar ningun buen fruto, 19, 1, 10 ;
mas de te yo preciar no te tiene pro, 22, 1, 61.
21b.
LAS SERGAS DE ESPLANDIAN.
Capitulos I-X.
1. Que no lo: Pag. 404, col. 2, 1. 40 ; 407, 1, 23 ; 407, 1, 51 ; 410, 2,
53 ; 411, 1, 8 ; 411, 1, 33 ; 414, 2, 61 ; 415. 1, 54 ; 415, 2, 16 ; 416, 1,
55 ; 416, 1, 60 ; 417, 1, 9 ; 419, 1, 23.
2) Que bien lo: 404, 1, 32 ; 404, 2, 15 ; 405, 1, 60 ; 406, 2, 53 ; 407, 1,
50; 409, 2, 6; 412, 1, 38; 412, 2, 32; 414, 1, 48; 415, 1, 21; 415, 1
39 ; 416, 2, 14 ; 417, 2, 55; 418, 2, 27. SI bien lo: 418, 1, 54. Quando
bien lo: 404, 2, 32; 410, 2, 19 ; 414, 1, 1 ; 419, 1, 50.
3. Que yo lo: 408, 2, 20; 409, 1, 42; 412, 1, 4; 415, 2, 30; 418, 2,
37 ; 419, 1, 48. Quando yo lo : 404, 1, 25 ; 405, 1, 55 ; 413, 2, 17.
5. Anomalous example, en tanto salid de esta prisi&n, dando gracias al
poderoso Senor, que nos, por bien y reparo de los suyos, suele dar semejantea
azotes, 412, 2, 41.
6. Infinitive. Por non lo: 411, 1, 18 ; 412, 2, 46 ; 419, 1, 24.
22.
LEYENDA DEL ABAD DON JUAN DE MONTEMAYOB.
i. Diego Rodriguez de Almela : Compendio Historial, Cap. ccbtxxvij.
ii. Historia del Abad Don Juan de Montemayor.
136 WINTHEOP HOLT CHENEEY.
Almda : Compendia Historial.
1. a) Que. si no to. 1) Quo: criador de todas las cosas que se pueden
ver, commo de las que non se pueden ver, p. 11, 1,8; E si tan santo sois
que non me queredes creer de cosa que vos digo, 11, 27 ; sabe que non me
quiere dar el Castillo el abad don Johan, 12, 16 ; dizie"ndole que non lo avia
ferido, 16, 11. 2) Si: sabe que non me quiere dar el castillo el abad don
Johan, si non lo tomamos por fuer9a, 12, 16.
b) Que, si lo no. 1) Que: El abad don Johan estorbavagelo que lo
non fiziese, 6, 30 ; e rog&vale que le diese la muerte e que lo non dexase
bevir, 9, 14 ; Mas pues que te alabas que entrar&s el castillo, yo te digo
que te non perrar£n las puertas por miedo tuyo, 12, 9 ; Entonce Almonzor
bolvi61e el rostro, dizie"ndole que non lo (que lo non, UFG) avfa ferido, 16,
11. 2) Si: No example.
2. a) Que yo lo. No example.
b) Que lo yo : porque yo ffo en Dios que lo fard mejor que lo tu dizes,
12, 10.
3. a) Por bien lo. No example.
b ) Por lo bien : epor lo mas honrrar, enbiolo al dicho rey don Ramiro
de Leon, 6, 6.
n.
Historia del Abad Don Juan de Montemayor.
1. Que, si, quando no lo. 1) Que: que no se pagasse del, 24, 31 ; y el
que no la tuviere, 26, 24 ; que no se aprovechasse de los caminos, 27, 25 ; y
rogava mucho a Dios que le diesse ya la muerte y que no le dexasse vivir
mas en el mundo, 32, 27 ; que no se podria contar, 33, 8 ; que no se entendian
unos a otros, 34, 1 ; que no se podrian contar, 34, 7 ; porque no me quesistes
creer, 38, 4 ; y mucho m&s que no se puede contar, 43, 24 ; que no lo vea,
44, 1 ; que no le quebrasse el corapon, 45, 11 ; que no se le quebrantasse el
corapon, 46, 22 ; tanto que no se davan lugar, 51, 15 ; Y dixo que no lo
queria ma's atender, 52, 1 ; que no se esperavan, 52, 9 ; que no le alcanco en
la carne, 52, 26. 2) Si: sabed que el abbad don Juan no quiere dar el
castillo, si no lo ganais por fuerca, 38, 30. 3) Quando: quando no le veia,
25, 2 ; y como no se abria la tierra, 31, 14.
2. Que, si yo lo. 1) Que: de lo que yo vos dire", 26, 22 ; que ellos se lo
tuvieron en poridad, 27, 8 ; que yo os crie", 28, 14 ; que yo os dare", 28, 17 ;
hasta que yo vos vea venir, 29, 10 ; que yo me quiero tornar moro, 30, 20 ;
aungwe tu te alabas, 38, 8 ; que ellos lo huvieron a gran maravilla, 42, 13 ;
lo que yo os dixere, 48, 12 ; que tu te alabas, 52, 20. 2) Si : st yo se la cor-
tasse, 49, 32.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 137
23.
SOUHATTS DE BlENVENUE ADDRESSES A FERDINAND LE CATHOLIQUE
PAR UN POETE BARCELONAIS EN 1473.
1. Quo non lo.
Con mal, con fortuna que no le falese, v. 31.
Que no te contientas del ombre qu'es viejo, v. 174.
2. Que blen lo.
Ffengir que le plaze lo que mas le pesa, v. 158.
24.
COMEDIA DE CALISTO Y MELIBEA.
Actos I-VIL
1. Que, si no lo. 1) Que: p. 12, 1, 16 ; 14, 15; 17, 2 ; 18, 29 ; 19, 33 ;
20, 2 ; 20, 13 ; 26, 2 ; 27, 33 ; 30, 3 ; 42, 3 ; 45, 3 ; 46, 20 ; 53, 17 ; 54,
2 ; 54, 3 ; 56, 26 ; 58, 2 ; 59, 33 ; 60, 27 ; 63, 7 ; 64, 10 ; 74, 9 ; 79, 12 ;
80, 25 ; 80, 32 ; 85, 20 ; 88, 22 ; 94, 11 ; 96, 12 ; 99, 21 ; 99, 33 ; 100, 8 ;
102, 6. 2) 81: 52, 3 ; 64, 1 ; 82, 32 ; 87, 21.
2. Que, si bien lo. 1) que mas . . . , 8, 23 ; 50, 1 ; 55, 26; 79, 13;
que assi, 21, 22 ; que mucho, 74, 31 ; que bien, 96, 12 ; 97, 6. 2) si aqui,
20, 3 ; si bien, 64, 16.
3. Que yo lo, si yo lo. 1) que yo, 26, 30 ; 37, 21 ; 41, 5 ; que tu, 11,
24 ; 53, 21 ; 55, 22 ; que el, 100, 1 ; que ella, 23, 4 ; 46, 32. 2) si tu,
58, 20.
25.
JUAN DE VALDES : DIALOGO DE LA LENGUA.
1. Que, si, quando no lo. 1) Que: p. 343, 1. 24 ; 345, 5 ; 346, 2; 346, 32;
348, 21 ; 352, 8 ; 352, 30 ; 354, 10 ; 355, 34 ; 360, 45 ; 360, 46 ; 361, 5; 363,
21 ; 376, 2 ; 367, 17 ; 368, 6 ; 368, 29 ; 369, 36 ; 371, 31 ; 371, 38 ; 371,
38 bis ; 376, 22 ; 377, 1 ; 377, 21 ; 379, 22 ; 380, 10 ; 380, 31 ; 380, 31 bis;
382, 13 ; 382, 30 ; 382, 40 ; 390, 20 ; 390, 35 ; 390, 37 ; 391, 10 ; 398, 17 ;
398, 28 ; 402, 10 ; 403, 24 ; 405, 30 ; 410, 20 ; 411, 11 ; 411, 14 ; 411, 26 ;
411, 32 ; 413, 19 ; 416, 37 ; 417, 20 ; 418, 12 ; 418, 33 ; 419, 1. 2) SI:
343, 14 ; 348, 18 ; 350, 12; 361, 1 ; 364, 20 ; 370, 18 ; 370, 34 ; 376, 32 ;
382, 8 ; 394, 15 ; 406, 3 ; 407, 6 ; 418, 24 ; 419, 3. 3) Quando: 354, 2 ;
354, 4 ; 358, 34 ; 369, 9 ; 390, 39 ; 411, 14.
2. Que, si, quando bien lo. 1) Que: 339, 14; 345, 26; 346, 7; 346,
25 ; 347, 13 ; 350, 19 ; 361, 7 ; 362, 18 ; 362, 23 ; 362, 34 ; 369, 32 ; 369,
44; 377, 12; 398, 15; 411, 12; 417, 6. 2) SI: 343, 26; 381, 20; 384,
14; 397, 7; 417, 24. 3) Quando: 353, 7 ; 372, 20; 411, 17.
3. Que, si, quando yo lo. 1) Que: 339, 16; 345, 21; 345, 23; 345,
28; 349, 14; 368, 8; 373, 36; 387, 36; 391, 6; 409, 4; 408, 10. 2)
138 WINTHKOP HOLT CHENERY.
Si: 350, 9; 375, 28; 383, 20. 3) Qiiando: 369, 18; 399, 32; 410, 13;
418, 15.
26.
LAZARILLO DE TORMES.
1. Que no lo: p. 6, 1. 5 ; 19, 27; 22, 7; 28, 20; 33, 9; 42, 12; 42,
13 ; 43, 4 ; 57, 21 ; 59, 9 ; 66, 3.
2. Que yo lo: que yo la, 37, 27 ; que el lo, 43, 17.
3. Por no lo : por no lo, 12, 8 ; 13, 24 ; en no se las, 15, 9 ; par no me,
21, 20.
27.
Luis DE LEON : LA PERFECTA CASADA.
1. Quo no lo: p. 8, 1. 2; 10, 5; 11, 23; 15, 29; 19, 3; 20, 25; 22,
28 ; 23, 9 ; 31, 24 ; 46, 23 ; 47, 11 ; 51, 27 ; 51, 30 ; 53, 30 ; 53, 30 bis ;
56, 21 ; 57, 11. Si no lo : 42, 22.
2. Que bien lo : 3, 28 ; 7, 15 ; 32, 21 ; 34, 28 ; 35, 28 ; 38, 6.
3. Que yo lo: 4, 2 ; 6, 24 ; 31, 23 ; 32, 3 ; 37, 30 ; 38, 13.
28.
CANTIGAS DE SANTA MARIA.
Nos. 1-XV.
1. a) Que non lo. A emperadriz, que non vos era de cora^on rafez, Cant.
V, stz. 21, v. 4. Assi que non ss' afogov, xni, 3, 8.
b) Que lo non. Por no mar deital-a, que a non deitasse, ix, 12, 1. Si
lo non : Ca se o non fezermos, en mal ponto uimos seu solaz, v, 17, 4.
Quando lo non : Ca sse non deteueron nenllur, xv, 18, 6.
2. b) Que lo bien: De que vos id diss', v, 4, 2 ; Quero seruir, que me
nunca & de falecer, v, 26, 6 ; Et de que sse mais pagaua, vi, 4, 3 ; Tod'
aquesto que uos ora dito, xv, 13, 1. Quando lo bien: Como x'ants uiolaua,
vin, 7, 3.
3. a) Quando yo lo: ca nos lo guardamos de malfeitoria, ix, 9, 5.
4. Que lo Do angeo, que lie falar foy, et disse "Coytada," i, 5,
6 ; Que W'aquel gaffo traedor fora bastecer, v, 22, 6 ; Per nulla ren que Wo
Emperador dissesse, nunca, quis, V, 26, 1 ; Ca porque lies non sofrer queria
de mal fazer, vii, 2, 3 ; En o dia que a Deus foi coroar, xii, 1,5; Que me
nas sas maos sofre, xin, 5, 7 ; Que m'o la$o non matov, xm, 5, 8 ; Que lies
este feito foi contando, xv, 18, 5 ; Que /Z'un caualeiro branco dev, xv, 19, 2.
Si lo Se sse d'algun mal sentia, IV, 10, 4 ; Et se f aqueste pan non
refeiro, xv, 6, 7.
Quando lo Pois IP este don tan estranyo ouue dad' e tan fremoso,
ii, 5, 1 ; Mas o Emperador, quando o atan mal parado uyu, v, 7, 4 ; E
quando a no monte teueron, falaron ontre si, v, 10, 3 ; O marynneirp, poil-a
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 139
en a barca meteu, ben come fol, v, 16, 1 ; Ant' o Apost61og) e ante u6s,
como os feitos a, v, 24, 3 ; Pois a* a dona espertou, vii, 2, 3 ; E v ITa. alma
saya log' o demo a prendfa, xi, 4, 1 ; fazer quanta W en prazer for, xv,
1,8.
5. Anomalous examples. Mayor miragre do mundo Want' esta Sennor
mostrara, n, 3, 2 ; Et se guarida achon, vn, 4, 2 ; Esto vos non sofreremos,
vin, 7, 8 ; Por quanto mal nos ele buscaua, xv, 11,4.
29.
DOM DINIZ DE PORTUGAL: CANTIGAS D'AMOR, I-L.
1. a) Qtie, si, quando non lo. 1) Quo: . . . se soubesse que nom Ik' era
tarn grave, Deus foss' em loado, v. 970. 2, 3) Si, quando, etc. No
example.
b) Que, si, quando lo non. 1) Que: Que me nom quer' end' eu doer,
25 ; ... que vos nom mereci outro mal, 63 ; des entom morte que mi nom quer
dar, 143 ; que vos nom posso nem sei dizer qual, 274 ; que se nom perdess'
ant' o sera, 491 ; ca sei eu bem que mi nom falara, 507 ; des que a nom vi,
nom er vi pesar, 527 ; que me nom julgue por seu traedor, 637 ; que Ihl nom
ouve Flores tal amor, 700 ; que me nom ajam d'entender, 714 ; des que se
nom guisou de a veer, 980. 2 ) Si : e semi nom fosse maior prazer, 271 ; «e
a nom vir, nom me posso guardar, 755. 3) Quando: ca me nom pod' escae-
cer, 740 ; pois me nom queredes tolher, 746.
2. a) Que, si, quando bien lo. 1) Que: que nunca vos mereci por que
tal, 79 ; que nunca vos dissesse rem, 104 ; Ca tal 4 que ante se matara, 521 ;
ca sabedes que nunca vos falei, 575 ; e que me nembra que bem a oi, 750 ;
desi sabem que nunca vos errei, 823. 2) Si: No example. 3) Quando: E
nom sei quando vos ar veerei, 213.
b) Que, si, quando lo bien. 1) Que: O que vos nunca cuidei a dizer,
572 ; o que vos ja perguntei outra vez, 810 ; que mi nunea fezo nenhum
prazer, 967. 2) Si: se lh' o assi guisasse Deus, 494 ; ca mi falar se o sol
cuidara, 522 ; se m' agora quizessedes dizer, 809. 3 ) Quando : quando m'
agora ouver d'alongar, 43 ; de quanto IK ante cuidara dizer, 150.
3. a) Que, si, quando yo lo. 1,2) Que, si. No examples. 3) Quando:
quant' eu vos amo, esto certo sei eu, 706.
b) Que, si, quando lo yo. 1) Quo: aquel maior que vo-F eu poss'
aver, 65 ; por muito mal que me IK eu mereci, 132 ; Assi nom er quis que
m1 eu percebesse, 138 ; o demo lev* a rem que IK eu falei, 149 ; que mi vos
poderdes fazer, 466 ; em que vo-P eu podesse merecer, 619; que vos eu podesse
contar, 732; que vos eu vi, 960. 2) Si: se nom semi vos fezessedea bem,
676. 3) Quando : que vos viss' eu, u m' el fez desejar, 142 ; se de qual ban
IK1 eu quero cuidara, 509 ; qual vos eu ei, 701.
4. Que, si, quando lo 1) Que: Mais tanto que me d' ant' ela quitei,
151 ; Senhor, pois que m' agora Deus guisou, 201 ; Quant' a, senhor, que m' eu
140 WINTHROP HOLT CHENEEY.
de vos parti, 424 ; E des que m' eu, senhor, per boa fe, de vos parti, 429 ; que
m' eu de vos parti, no cora^om, 436 ; Pois que vos Deus, amigo, quer guisar,
541 ; E pois que vos Deus aguisa d' ir i, 551 ; que vos gram bem nom ouvess'
a querer, 631 ; com que m' oj' eu vejo morrer, 739 ; d'omem que Ihi par
pozesse, 788 ; se nom o bem que vos Deus deu, 802 ; quando nom quis que
IK outra foss' igual, 841 ; que vos em grave dia vi, 851. 2) Si: se o eu a
vos nom disser, 111 ; se o a vos nom f6r dizer, 119 ; se vos grav' £ de vos eu
bem querer, 290 ; se o Deus quizesse guisar, 322 ; Ca sabedes que se m' end'
eu quitar, 627 ; se me Deus ant' os seus olhos lavar, 635 ; se mh a sa mui
gram mesura nom val, 648 ; por vos, se vos est' 4 loor ou prez, 813. 3)
Quando : qua! vos sol nom posso dizer, 98 ; e pois me Deus nom val, 190 ;
pois vos Deus atal foi fazer, 316 ; E pois vos Deus nunca fez par, 318 ;
Quern vos mui bem visse, senhor, 482 ; E quern vos bem com estes meus olhos
visse, 489 ; como mh a mi o foi guisar, 495 ; por quanta m' oje mha senhor
falou, 504 ; d'aver eu mal d'u o Deus nom pos, nom, 612 ; Senhor fremosa,
por qual vos Deus fez, 807 ; mal, pois w-V eu, senhor, nom mereci, 827 ;
qual m' eu por mha senhor vejo levar, 914.
5. Anomalous, ca sei que sentiredes qual mingua vos pois ei-de fazer, 4 ;
desi nom o er podedes enganar, 70 ; ca el sabe bem quam de corafom vos
eu am' e que nunca vos errei, 72 ; ca logo m' el guisou que vos oi falar,
126 ; e tod' aquesto m'el foi aguisar, 129 ; a Ih'o dizer, e me bem esforcei,
155 ; com quaes olhos vos eu vi, 483 ; d'al, ca nunca me d'al pudi nembrar,
528 ; pero mi tod' este mal faz sofrer, 532 ; pero m' este mal fez e mais
fara, 538 ; seu mandado oi e a nom vi, 639 ; Cedo ; ca pero mi nunca faz
bem, 754 ; e por quam boa vos el fez, 790 ; que nunca vo-l' eu mereci, 857 ;
e m' el nom for ajudador, 866.
6. Infinitive, a) Por bien lo: de nunca mi fazerdes bem, 932.
b) Por lo non : de mh a nom querer, 40. Por lo bien : de m' agora
guardar que nom, 85 ; sem vo-lo nunca merecer, 871. Por lo : e pela
mais ca mim amar, 172 ; . . . de vos eu bem querer, 290.
30.
ESTORIA TfiOYAA.
Pags. 95-113.
1. a) Que, si, quando non lo. No examples.
b) Que, si, quando lo non. 1 Que: en gisa que a no vissen, p. 96,
1. 19 ; et pepo vos merce*6 que vos no pese nemo tenades por mal, 101, 29 ;
como quer que vos no plaz de falar en este pleito, 103, 16 ; mays chegavasse
ja tato aas tedas quelle no podia falar assua v66ntade, 103, 29 ; mays Achiles
aque sse no olvidava oque afazer avia, 109, 24 ; Outrossy ta gra covardipe
tomava enssy quelle no ousava dizer nada, 111, 26 ; gardarlo ey eu omellor
que poder que o no partirey de mi, 113, 5. 2) Si: No example. 3)
Quando: ffa9ome maravillada como seme nd parte este cora9o per mille
lugares, 96, 7 ; et fazelles sofrer ta graves coytas que son par de morte coos
no leixa dormir, 111, 9.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 141
2. a) Que, si, quando bien lo. 1) Que: Ca moytas vezes 07 falar de
moytos que nuca axe vira ne sse cofiospera, 101, 18 ; que oduro sse poden
encobrir, 103, 2. 2) SI. No example. 3) Quando. No example.
b) Que, si, quando lo bien. 1) Que. No example. 2) SI: que eu
faria torto selle mnl quisesse, 108, 7. 3) Quando. No example.
3. a) Que, si, quando yo lo. 1) Que: Et porque desamades tato vossa
vida, que eu vos fapo 9ertos que . . . , 95, 6 ; et dy a Brecayda, que y
acharas, que eulle enbio este cavalo, 107, 13. 2) Si. No example. 3)
Quando. No example.
b) Que, si, quando lo yo. 1) Que: Et ja deus nuca queyra quemeeu
traballe de amar ne de servir outra, 101, 36 ; ne entendades que von eu leixo
por outra rrazo, 103, 9; desto queUe eu envio dizer, 107, 16. 2) Si: et
dille que se me el quer ben, que eu faria torto, 108, 6. 3) Quando: Talera
omato da donzela quol vos eu dixe, 98, 24 ; Et quandosse ela ouvo a partir de
Troylos, 100, 12.
4. Que, si, quando lo 1) Que: Ca seu f alia nuca eno mudo sera
cousa que vos tato de corapo ame como eu, 97, 10 ; Como aqueles quesse moy
de corapo amava, 98, 3 ; Et porque vos eu todo tgpo sera rretraida et pos-
fapada, 104, 6 ; pero aynda tamano ben nolle quero por quelle ael mellor va&
do que ante He ya, 108, 8 ; por este cavalo que me e outro dia destes, 112,
11. 2) SI : et seme alge pregutar quaes era, 100, 8 ; vay et dy ateu sefior
que se me el ben quer como diz, quemo demostra moy mal, 107, 30 ; sabade
(sic) que selle este pleito moyto durara, cove'e'ralle de morrer, 111, 13 ; Et
seo ben no gardardes, toste vos lo podera tomar, 112, 28. 3) Quando: Et
quando sse anbos ouveron apartir, 101, 2 ; Et vos sodes . . . . ta paapao per
como me ami semella, 103, 5 ; Et pays vos ja aco co migo tefio, no averey que
temer, 105, 28.
5. Anomalous. Et seme rreceberdes por vosso amigo nuca vos ende verm
seno onrra, 101, 31 ; Et se el esto fezesse senpre lie ende ben verria, 107, 33.
Slabc.
VIDA DE EUFROSINA, VIDA DE MARIA EGIPCIA, EXTRAITS D'UN
TRAITE DE DEVOTION (Textes portugais du xive SiScle).
1. a) Que no lo. No example.
b) Que lo no. EUFROSINA. Depois que viram que se nom demostrava,
p. 362, 1. 21 ; E ella cobrio assua face por tal quea nom conhopesse, 363, 6 ;
que te nom desprecara Nosso Senhor, 363, 18 ; Rogote que me nom leixes,
364, 28; porquete nom mostraste? 365, 11. EGIPCIA. Eute Rogey, padre
queme nom costrangesses, 373, 8 ; mais assi como aaz de cavaleyros estava
contra ml que me nom leixava gtrar, 374, 16 ; e porque me nom achou tor-
nousse, 378, 29 ; defendendolhe queo nom fezesse, 379, 4 ; Gloria seia aty
Nosso Ssenhor Deus que me nom fezeste minguado, 379, 10 ; e creeo qutlhe
nom farya mal, 380, 30 ; TRAITE. e dame tarn gra tormento (seu) e espanto
142 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
queo no sey dizer, 382, 23 ; que se nrnn podya del partir, 386, 6 ; e disselhe
quese fosse, qudhe nom querya dar sua filha, 388, 20 ; desque vio qudhe no
prestava nada, 390, 8.
2. a) Si no lo. No example.
b) Si lo no. EGIPCIA. Quern onunca vira ne houvira sselhe no
ffosse demostrado, p. 370, 1. 8.
3. a) Quando no lo. EGIPCIA. Ca nom vos sserey ssem proveyto, 373,
21.
b) Quando lo no. EGIPCIA. como me nom sorveo byva, 373, 33.
EUFROSINA. e quando anom achou, 361, 27.
4. a) Que, (si, quando, etc.) bien lo. EGIPCIA. que nunca sse ajunta-
vam, 368, 27. TRAITE. ora me darn tarn grande quentura que todo me
fazem tremer, 382, 23 ; cuydando que-nuca the fellecerya, 385, 20 ; quelanto
se asenhorava dell, 386, 5.
b) Que lo bien. EGIPCIA. porque sse vyo chamar per sseu nome,
quern onunca vira ne houvira, 370, 8 ; que me nunca viste, 370, 25 ; e tor-
neyme aaquella queme ally trouvera per ffe, 375, 9 ; E assy como te ante
Rogey, 377, 21. TRAITE. Assy que poucos som os que, se atal tenpo
lenbra do quelhes copre, queo copridamete ajam, 382, 8 ; desque virom que
se tanto detiinha, 382, 36.
5. a) Que (si, etc.) yo lo. EGIPCIA. que tu me ffosses demostrada,
372, 1 ; Quando ho santo home vyo que ella Ike fallava de Regla, 377, 34.
b) Que (si, etc.) lo yo. as quaes sse as tu quiseres seguir, 336, 27;
Eu sey, sete eu comecar acontar, 372, 12 ; e hir me ey hu me tu mandares,
374, 38. TRAITE. E el indo pera veer se era ja morto em huu forno
ondeo ell mandara meter, 382, 15 ; nada doquelhe ell dizia, 390, 8.
6. a) Que (si, etc.) dios lo. TRAITE. que Deuslhe perdoou, 383, 17 ;
que Deus Ihe avia perdoado, 388, 24.
b) Que (si, etc.) lo dios. EGIPCIA. Depois que me esto acontepeo,
374, 17. TRAITE. aquello qudhe Deus madara, 386, 30 ; emna cidade de
Ninive comoa Deus queria destroyr, 386, 25 ; pera ve"er comoa Deus querya
destroyr, 386, 31.
7. Que lo . EGIPCIA. Ssenhora rninha, no leixes nehua cousa
que me todo nom descubras, 376, 11. TRAITE. Esta arvor senifica este mudo
e queseho home deleyta, 384, 7 ; por aquello que^Ae oydollo avia dicto, 388, 21.
8. Anomalous. TRAITE. Ay, amigos, que mal me ora julgastes ! 382, 37.
32.
VIAGGIO FANTASTICO IN PORTOGHESE.
1. a) Que, si, quando no lo. No example.
b) Que, si, quando lo no: E por que o nom fez visorei, p. 291, 1. 8 ;
nem os filhos dos senhorios dos teus reinos que se nom casern, 292, 33 ; e
temeraas que te nam acontepa outro, 293, 2 ; et Ihes parecia que se nom
emtemdiao hus aos outros, 295, 20.
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 143
2. a) Quo, si, quando yo lo. No example.
b) Que, si, quando lo yo. et estauam em duuida se era aquillo que
viam asi como o elles viam, 294, 44.
3. Que lo : por hu agrauo que me el Rei men paifez, 290, 10 ; per
consentimento de algus da cidade que o na alfandeya meteram, 290, 23 ;
tornaram a zerca por certas frechas que Ikes nella ficaram, 295, 14; et ha
quatro annos que se delle nom sabe parte, 296, 16.
4. a) Que — — no lo: por que tempo vira que tens filhos nom se
achara(m), 292, 11.
b) Que lo no: tuas novas serd ouvidas por todo o momdo, ate
que as pessoas as nam queirao ouvir, 292, 2.
33.
CONTRIBUTES PABA UM ROMANCEIRO E CANCIONEIRO POPULAR
PORTUGUEZ.
1. a) Que no lo. Que nao se podem cantar, p. 115, No. 4, b, v. 4.
b ) Que lo no. Que ha muito que a nao vi, p. 105, col. 1, 1. 2.
2. a) Que yo lo. Que eu Ihei porei os hotoes, p. 108, No. 4, b, v. 4.
b ) Que lo yo. Neste leito em que me eu deito, p. 105, No. 7, b, v. 9.
3. Anomalous. Que a minh'alma se nao perca, p. 105, No. 5, v. 9.
34.
ROMANCES SACROS. ORACOES E ENSALMOS POPULARES DO MINHO.
1. Que no lo. Permitti que nao me engane, p. 266, col. 2, 1. 33.
2. a) Que (si) yo lo. Que eu vos darei boas novas, p. 265, 1. 6 ; Se ettes
se derem bem, p. 267, col. 2, 1. 26 ; Que ella Ike sararia,' p. 275, No. 25,
col. 2.
b) Que lo yo: Que me eu for deitar, p. 268, col. 1, 1. 2.
3. Que lo . Se te agora nao convertes, p. 267, col. 1, 1. 7.
4. Anomalous. Para que o diabo me nao esquefa, p. 266, col. 2, 1. 5.
35.
CANTIGAS POPTTLARES A£ORIANA&
1. a) Que no lo. Para falar ao meu amor Ja que nao o vi de dia, No.
39, v. 4.
b) Que lo no. So para contar as horas No tempo que te nao vejo, 78,
4 ; Voc6 diz que me nao quer, 141, 1 ; Mil trabalhos te persigam, Que te nao
possas valer, 147, 2.
2. b) Si lo no. Se me lavo, sou doidinha, Se me nao kvo, sou porca,
19, 4.
3. a) Que yo lo. As penas que vos me dais Dcus as sabe, eu as sinto,
41, 3.
144 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
b) Que (quando, etc.) lo yo. Vai-te lenco, onde te eu mando, 74, 1.
4. a) Que (si, etc.) no lo. Cresca-me elle na ventura Que no
mais nao se me da, 22, 4.
b) Que (si, etc.) lo no. Se os meus olhos te nao vissem, 95, 1 ;
Se tu me nao enganasses, 98, 3.
5. a) nolo: Quern morre do mal de araores, Nao se enterra em
sagrado, 23, 2 ; Quern eu quero nao me dao, 20, 3 ; Voc£ passa, nao me fala,
48, 1 ; Os olhos que d'aqui vejo Nao me armem falsidade, 60, 2 ; O meu
peito nao se abria, 95, 3 ; Meu corafao nao te amava, 95, 4 ; A demora que
tiveram Foi nao me verem mais cedo, 129, 4.
b) lo no: Quern me dao me nao contenta, 20, 4 ; Voce passa,
me nao fala, 49, 1 ; Sou tao triste, me nao lembra se fui alegre algum dia,
55, 3 ; Voc6 se vae, me nao deixa Dinheiro para gastar, 110, 1.
LIST OF BOOKS AND ARTICLES CONSULTED.
Note. — This list does not include titles given in the List of Texts following
the Introduction.
AMADOR DE LOS BIOS, Jos4 : Historia critica de la literature, espanola.
Madrid : Jose" Kodriguez, 1861-1865.
Eomance hablado en los antiguos reinos de Aragon y Navarra. In
Hist. crft. de la Lit. esp. Parte I. Apend. I, pp. 584-596.
AKATTJO G6MEZ, Fernando : Gramatica del Poema del Cid. Madrid :
Hijos de M. G. Hernandez, 1897.
ASCOIJ, Graziadio : Miscellanea Linguistica in on©re di Graziadio Ascoli.
Torino : Ermanno Loescher, 1901.
BAIST, Gottfried : Eine neue Handschrift des spanischen Alexandre. Rom.
Forsch., vi (1888-1891), s. 292.
Noch einmal -ioron. Zeitschr. f. rom. Ph. , iv, s. 586 ff.
Die spanische Litteratur. In Grundriss d. rom. Philol. hrsg. v. G.
Grober, II. Bd., s. 383 ff., 1897.
Die spanische Sprache. In Grober' s Grundriss, I. Bd., ss. 689-714,
1888.
Die Zeitfolge der Schriften D. Juan Manuels. In desselben Libro de
la Caza, Beilage i, ss. 128-155.
BERGER, S. : Les Bibles castillanes. Romania, xxvni (1899).
BOFARULL Y MASCAR&, Pr6spero: Colecci6n de documentos ine"ditos del
Archive General de la Corona de Aragon. Barcelona, 1847-1876.
BOLETIN DE LA HEAL AcADEMiA DE LA HISTORIA. Madrid : Imp. de
T. Fortanet, 1877-
BURKE, Ulick Kalph : A history of Spain from the earliest times to the
death of Ferdinand the Catholic. Second edition with additional
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 145
notes and an introduction by Martin A. 8. Hume. London : Long*
mans, Green & Co., 1900.
COENU, Julius : L'enclitique nos dans le poeme du Cid. Romania, ix,
pp. 71-98, 1880.
Etudes de phonologic espagnole et portugaise. Romania, ix, p. 71 ff.
Die portugiesische Sprache. In Grober's Orundriss, I. Bd., ss. 715-
803, 1888.
CUERVO, R. J. Los casos encliticos y proclfticos del pronombre de tercera
persona en castellano. Romania, xxiv (1895), pp. 95-113, 219-263.
DELBRUCK, B. Vergleichende Syntax der indogermanischen Sprachen.
(Grundries der vergl. Gramm. der idg. Spr., ill, IV, V.) Strassburg :
Triibner, 1893-1900.
DICCIONARIO ENCICLOPEDICO HISPANO- AMERICANO DE LITERATURA,
ciencia y artes. Barcelona : Montaner y Sim6n, 1887-1899.
DIEZ, Friedrich : Grammatik der romanischen Sprachen. Vierte Auflage.
Bonn : Eduard Weber, 1876.
FTTZMAURICE-KELLY, James : A History of Spanish Literature. New
York : D. Appleton & Co., 1898.
Historia de la Literatura Espanola desde los orfgenes hasta el afio
1900. Traducida del ing!4s y anotada por Adolfo Bonilk y San
Martfn con un estudio preliminar por Marcelino Mene"ndez y Pelayo.
Madrid : La Espafia Moderna (1901).
FLATEN, Nils : The personal pronoun in the Poema del Cid. Modern
Language Notes, xvi (1901), cols. 65-72.
FLOREZ, Enrique, and Risco, fray Manuel. Espafia Sagrada. Theatro
geographico-historico de la Iglesia de Espana, etc. En Madrid. Por
Don Miguel Francisco Rodriguez, 1747-1879.
FOERSTER, Paul : Spanische Sprachlehre. Berlin : Weidmannsche Buch-
handlung, 1880.
FOERSTER, Wendelin. Beitrsige zur romanischen und englischen Philologie.
Festgabe fiir Wendelin Foerster zum 26. Oktober, 1901. Halle a. S.
Max Niemeyer, 1902.
FORD, J. D. M. The Old Spanish Sibilants. In (Harvard) Studies and
Notes in Philology and Literature, vii (1900). Boston : Ginn & Co.
GAYANGOS, Pascual de, Edr. Escritores en Prosa anteriores al siglo xv,
recogidos 4 ilustrados. (Biblioteca de Auiores Espanolee, 51.) Madrid :
M. Rivadeneyra, 1884.
Libros de Caballerfas, con un discurso preliminar y un catdlogo
razonado. (Biblioteca de Autores Espafioles, t. 40.) Madrid : M.
Rivadeneyra, 1874.
GESSNER, Emil : Das Altleonesische. Ein Beitrag zur Kenntniss des Alt-
spanischen. (Programme d' invitation a 1'examen public du College
Royal Francais. ) Berlin, 1867.
Das spanische Pereonalpronomen. Zeitschrift /. rom. PhiL, xvn
(1893), ss. 1-54.
10
146 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
GoN$!ALVES-ViANNA, K. Etude de philologie portugaise. Romania, xn,
p. 29 S.
Portugais: Phonelique et Phonologic. (Skizzen lebender Sprachen
hrsg. von W. Vietor, 2. Bd. ) Leipzig, 1903.
GORRA, Egidio : Lingua e letteratura spagnuola delle origini. Milano :
Hoepli, 1898.
GROEBER, Gustav : Grundriss der romanischen Philologie hrsg. v. G.
Grober. Strassburg : Karl J. Triibner, 1888-
Uebersicht iiber die lateinische Litteratur von der Mitte des 6. Jhdts.
bis 1350. In Grundr. d. rom. Ph., II. Bd., 1. Abt., ss. 97-432, 1893.
HANSSEN, Friedrich or Federico : Estudios sobre la conjugaci6n leonesa.
[Publicado en los "Anales de la Universidad (de Santiago de Chile" )
de Noviembre.] Santiago de Chile, Imprenta Cervantes, 1896.
Metrische Studien zu Alfonso und Berceo. (Separatabzug aus den
Verhandlungen des Deutschen Wissenschaftlichen Vereins in Santiago,
Bd. V. ) Valparaiso : Guillermo Helfmann, 1903.
Miscelanea de versificaci6n castellana. (Publ. en los " Anales de la
Universidad ' ' de Febrero. ) Santiago de Chile : Impr. Cervantes, 1897.
Notas d. la prosodia castellana. (Publ. en los "Anales de la Uni-
versidad.") Santiago de Chile : Impr. Cervantes, 1900.
Sobre el Hiato en la antigua versificacion castellana. (Publ. en los
"Anales de la Universidad" de Diciembre. ) Santiago de Chile:
Impr. Cervantes, 1896.
Sobre la conjugacion de Gonzalo de Berceo. (Publ. en los "Anales
de la Universidad.") Santiago de Chile : Imprenta Cervantes, 1895.
Sobre la conjugaci6n del Libre de Apolonio. (Publ. en los "Anales
de la Universidad.") Santiago (de Chile): Impr. Cervantes, 1896.
Sobre la formaci6n del Imperfecto de la segunda i tercera conjugaci6n
castellana en las poesias de Gonzalo de Berceo. (Publ. en los "Anales
de la Universidad.") Santiago de Chile : Impr. Cervantes, 1894.
Sobre la pronunciation del diptongo ie en la e"poca de Gonzalo de
Berceo. (Publ. en los "Anales de la Universidad.") Santiago de
Chile : Impr. Cervantes, 1895.
HARTMANN, K. A. M. Ueber das altspan. Dreikonigsspiel nebst einem
Anhang enthaltend ein bisher ungedrucktes lat. Dreikonigsspiel, einen
Wiederabdruck des asp. Stiickes sowie einen Excurs iiber die Namen
der drei Konige Caspar, Melchior, Baltasar. ( Diss. Leipzig. ) Baut-
zen : 1879.
JANER, Florencio, Edr. Poetas Castellanos anteriores al siglo xv. Colec-
cion hecha por D. Tomas Antonio Sanchez, continuada por el exmo.
Sr. D. Pedro Jose" Pidal y considerablemente aumentada 6 ilustrada, &
vista de los codices y manuscritos antiguos, por D. Florencio Janer.
(Bibl. de Autores Esps., 57.) Madrid: M. Bivadeneyra, 1864.
JOHNSTON, Oliver Martin : The historical syntax of the atonic personal
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 147
pronouns in Italian. (Diss. Johns Hopkins. ) Toronto : Rowsell and
Hutchison, 1898.
KELLER, Adolf : Altspanisches Lesebuch, mit Grammatik und Glossar.
Leipzig : F. A. Brockhaus, 1890.
KNUST, Hermann : Geschichte der hi. Katharina v. Alexandrien und del
hi. Maria Aegyptiaca, nebst unedirten Texten. Halle : Niemeyer,
1890.
LE COUI/TRE, Jules : De 1'ordre des mots dans Crestiens de Troyes. Ex-
trait du Programme de Paques 1875 du College Vitzthum. Dresden,
1875.
MEMORIAL HISTORICO ESPA$OL. Colecci6n de documentos, opuscules y
antigiiedades que publica la Heal Academia de la Historia. Madrid :
Imprenta de la Real Academia de la Historia, 1851.
MENENDEZ-PIDAL, Ram6n : La Leyenda de los Infantes de Lara. Madrid :
Impr. de los Hijos de Jose" M. Ducazcal, 1896.
Manual elementar de gramatica hist6rica espanola. Madrid : Suarez,
1904.
Poema de Ylifuf. Materiales para su estudio. Revista de Archives,
Bibliotecas y Museos, 3a Epoca, t. viz (1902) pp. 91-129, 276-309,
347-362.
Titulo que el arcipreste de Hita di6 al libro de sus poesias. Revista
de Archims, Bibliotecas y Museos, 3a Epoca, t. 11, pp. 106-109, 1898.
MENENDEZ Y PELAYO, Marcelino : Estudios de Erudici6n espanola.
Homenaje a Mene"ndez y Pelayo en el afio vigesimo de su profesorado.
2 vols. Madrid : Viet. Suarez, 1899.
MEYER- LUBKE, Wilhelm : Grammatik der Romanischen Sprachen. 3.
Bd. Syntax. Leipzig : O. R. Reisland, 1899.
Grammaire des Langues romanes. Traduction fran9aise par Auguste
Doutrepont et Georges Doutrepont. 3 vols. Paris : H. Welter, 1890-
1900.
Zur Stellung der tonlosen Objektspronomina. Zeitschrift f. rom. Ph.,
xxi (1897), ss. 313-334.
MICHAELIS DE VASCONCELLOS, Carolina, und BRAOA, Theophilo : Ge-
schichte der portugiesischen Litteratur. In Grober's Grundr. d. rom.
PhiloL II Bd., 2. Abt., ss. 129-382.
MoREir-FATio, Alfred : Recherches sur le texte et les sources du Libro de
Alexandre. Romania IV (1875) pp. 7-90.
MUGICA, P. de : Supresi&n de la vocal enclftica de los pronombres en el
Poema del Cid. Zeitschrift f. rom. Philol. xvin, ss. 540-545.
MUSSAFIA, Adolf : Enclisi o proclisi del pronome personale qual oggetto.
Romania xxvn (1898) pp. 145-6.
Ueber die Quellen der asp. Vida de S. Maria Egipciaca. Wien :
Hof- und Staatsdruckerei, 1863.
148 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
PARIS, Gaston : La chanson d'Antioche proven9ale et la Gran Conquista de
Ultramar. Romania, xvii, p. 513 ff.
REAL ACADEMIA ESPANOLA. Diccionario de la Lengua Castellana. 13»
Edicion. Madrid, 1899.
Gramatica de la lengua castellana. Nueva Edicion. Madrid : Her-
nando y Companfa, 1890.
REINHARDSTOETTNER, Carl von : Grammatik der portugiesischen Sprache
auf Grundlage des Lateinischen und der romanischen Sprachvergleich-
ung bearbeitet. Strassburg : Karl J. Triibner, 1878.
EICHTER, Elise : Zur Entwicklung der romanischen Wortstellung aus der
lateinischen. Halle a. S. : Max Niemeyer, 1903.
RODRIGUEZ, Manuel R. Apuntes gramaticales sobre el romance gallego de
la Cr6nica Troyana. In Cr6nica Troyana. Codice gallego del siglo
XIV, etc. La Corufia : 1900.
SCHMITZ, Michael : Ueber das altspanische Poema de Jose". Romanische
Forschungen xi (1901) ss. 315-411.
THURNEYSEN, E. Zur Stellung des Verbums im Altfranzosischen. Zeit-
schr.f. rom. Phil, xvi (1892) ss. 289-307.
TICKNOR, George : History of Spanish Literature. In three volumes.
Third American edition, corrected and enlarged. Boston : Ticknor
and Fields, 1864.
TIKTIN, H. Zur Stellung der tonlosen Pronomina und Verbalformen im
Rumanischen. Zdtschr. f. rom. Philol. IX ( 1885) ss. 590-596.
TOBLER, Adolf : Zn Le Coultre : De 1'ordre des mots dans Crestien de
Troyes. Gb'llingsche gelehrte Anzeigen, 1875. s. 1065 ff.
WACKERNAGEL, Jacob : Ueber ein Gesetz der indogermanischen Wort-
stellung. Indogerm. Forsch. I. ss. 333-436.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTION :— PAGE.
1. DEFINITION OF TITLE 1
2. PREVIOUS NOTICES OF INTERPOLATION 2
3. OUTLINE OF INVESTIGATION 5
LIST OF SPANISH, GALICIAN, AND PORTUGUESE TEXTS
EXAMINED FOR INTERPOLATION, WITH NOTICES OF CHRO-
NOLOGY AND DIALECT OF AUTHORS AND MANUSCRIPTS 7
NOTES ON SPANISH TEXTS AND SPANISH DIALECTS IN
GENERAL 28
ALPHABETIC LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS.... 32
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 149
PART ONE.
STUDY OF INTERPOLATION IN THE TEXTS.
INTRODUCTORY NOTE ON THE CLASSIFICATION OF THE
ILLUSTRATIVE MATERIAL 34
CHAPTER I.— INTERPOLATION IN CASTILIAN WORKS OF
THE XII AND XIII CENTURIES.
A. THE Poema del Old 38
B. METRICAL WORKS OF THE xni CENTURY ON FRENCH
MODELS.
1. Vida de Santa Maria Egipciaca. — 2. Libro de Apo-
lonia. — 3. Gonzalo de Berceo. — 4. Libro de Alexandre.
— 5. Poema de Fern&n Gonzalez 39
C. MINOR TEXTS OF THE xm CENTURY.
1. El Cantar de los Cantares. — 2. Poeme d* amour, Debat
du vin et de Feau, Dix commandements 48
D. SUMMARY 49
CHAPTER II.— INTERPOLATION IN CASTILIAN WORKS
OF THE XIV CENTURY.
A. ALFONSO EL SABIO TO DON JUAN MANUEL. — INTRODUC-
TION.
1. Documentos de Alfonso X. — 2. Leyenda de los Infantes
de Lara. Note on the Siete Partidas. — 3. Gran
Oonquista de Ultramar 50
B. DON JUAN MANUEL TO LOPEZ DE AYALA.
1. Don Juan Manuel. — 2. Juan Ruiz, Archpriest of
Hita. — 3. Vision de Filiberto. — 4. Pero Lopez de
Ayala, Rimado 53
C. SUMMARY 62
CHAPTER III.— SPANISH TEXTS OF THE XV AND XVI
CENTURIES.
A. CASTILIAN TEXTS SHOWING OCCASIONAL INTERPOLATION.
1. El Libra de Exenplos por A. B. C. — 2. La Estoria de
los Quatro Dolores de la Santa Eglesia. — La Estoria
del rey Anemur, etc. — 3. Leyenda del Abad Don Juan
de Montemayor 62
B. SPANISH TEXTS OF ARAGONESE CHARACTER.
1. Poema de Jose. — 2. Pedro de Luna : De las Consola-
cione«. — 3. Souhaits de bienvenue, etc 65
C. CASTILIAN TEXTS WITHOUT INTERPOLATION.
1. Comedia de Calisto et Mclibea.—2. Valdes, Didlogo de la
Lengua. — 3. Lazarillo de Tormes. — 4. Luis de Leon,
La Perfecta Casada 66
D. SUMMARY... 67
150 WINTHROP HOLT CHENERY.
CHAPTER IV.— INTERPOLATION IN GALICIAN AND POR-
TUGUESE TEXTS, AND IN SPANISH TEXTS DERIVED
FROM GALICIAN OR PORTUGUESE ORIGINALS.
INTRODUCTORY NOTE 69
A. OLD GALICIAN AND OLD PORTUGUESE TEXTS.
1. Alfonso X, Cantigas de S. Maria, — 2. Diniz de Portu-
gal, Cantigas d'amor. — 3. Estoria Troyaa. — 4. Vida
deEvfrosina, etc. — 5. Viaggio fantastico 69
B. NOTE ON MODERN PORTUGUESE TEXTS AND SUMMARY
OF CHARACTERISTICS OF INTERPOLATION IN GALICIAN
AND PORTUGUESE 72
C. CASTTT.TAN TEXTS TRANSCRIBED OR COMPILED FROM
WESTERN ORIGINALS.
1. Poema de Alfonso Onceno. — 2. Amadis de Gaula and
Las Sergas de Esplandidn 74
CHAPTER V.— PRONOUN ORDER IN LATIN TEXTS 76
PART TWO.
THEORETICAL DISCUSSION.
CHAPTER VI.— THEORY OF PRIMITIVE ENCLISIS OF
OBJECT PRONOUNS 77
CHAPTER VII.— ENCLISIS OF PRONOUNS IN PORTUGUESE. 85
CHAPTER VIII.— THEORY OF INTERPOLATION IN CAS-
TILIAN 90
APPENDIX.
1. Poema del Old 98
2. Vida de Santa Maria Egipciaca 99
3. Libra de Apolonio 100
4. Gonzalo de Berceo 101
5. Libro de Alexandre 104
6. Poema de Fernan Goncdlez 108
7. Cantar de los Cantares 108
8. Poeme d? amour, Debat du vin et de Peau, De los diez Manda-
mientos 108
9. Documentos de Alfonso X. 109
10. Leyenda de los Infantes de Lara 110
11. Gran Conquista de Ultramar Ill
12. Don Juan Manuel : a) Libra de la Caza 112
b) Libro del Cavallero et del Escudero 114
c) Libro dePatronio 116
13. Juan Ruiz, Arcipreste de Hita 117
OBJECT-PRONOUNS IN OLD SPANISH. 151
14. Poema de Alfonso Onceno 122
15. Rimado de Palacio 124
16. Poema de Jose 125
17. Vision de Filiberto 125
18. Pedro de Luna : De las Consolaciones 126
19. Libra de Exemplos por A. B. C. a) Paris MS 126
b) Madrid MS 127
20. a) Los Quatro Dolores de la S. Eglesia. 127
b) La Estoria del rey Anemur, etc 129
21. a) Amadis deGaida 130
b) Las Sergas de Esplandidn 135
22. Leyenda del abad don Juan de Montemayor 135
23. Souhaits . . , . adresses d Ferdinand le Cath 137
24. Comedia de Calisto et Melibea 137
25. Valdes : Didlogo de la Lengua 137
26. Lazaritto de Tormes 138
27. Luis de Leon : La Perfecta Casada 138
28. Alfonso X. : Cantigas de S. Maria 138
29. Diniz de Portugal : Cantigas d' amor 139
30. Estoria Troyaa. 140
31. Vida de Eufrosina, etc 141
32. Viaggio fantastico 142
33-35. Modern Portuguese Texts 143
LIST OF BOOKS AND ARTICLES CONSULTED 144
II. — TYDOREL AND SIR GOWTHER.
Attention has often been called to the extraordinary
parallelism which exists between Sir Gowther, a fifteenth
century English version of Robert the Devil, and the so-called
Breton Lay of Tydorel.1 The latter is one of five anony-
mous romances published by Gaston Paris2 according to
the manuscript in the National Library, which includes also
the lays of Marie de France.3
A cursory examination of these anonymous lays, all of
which claim a Breton origin, shows them to be strikingly
deficient in originality of conception and unity of structure.
Not only in the above-mentioned collection, but in all the
others that have appeared, the plagiarisms from the works
of Marie de France can scarcely escape even the superficial
reader. The lay of Graelent, for example, published by
Crapelet,4 in which some scholars have seen a primitive form
of Celtic legend, is found upon examination to be a mere
pastiche, an awkward combination of the plots of three of
Marie's Lays — Eliduc, Lanval, and Guingamor.5
But in Tydorel we have, it would appear, a theme, or
several themes, not directly traceable to Marie, but bearing
a decided resemblance to the Christian legend of Robert the
1 Kittredge's Sir Orfeo, American Journal of Philology, vii, pp. 178-9.
2 Lais Inedits, Romania, vui, pp. 32-74.
3 Three of the Lays are missing in this MS. : Laustic, Chaitivd and Eliduc.
* Pastes Francois depuis le Xlli&me Si&cle jttsqu' d nos Jours, Paris, 1824.
5 For the complete demonstration of this theory, I will refer to an article
by Prof. Lucien Foulet of Bryn Mawr College, soon to appear.
The whole framework of the story is borrowed from Lanval, while the
Queen's love for Graelent, her consultation with the Seneschal, and her
interview with the hero, reproduce a similar scene in Eliduc. The fairy
mistress belonged originally to Ouingamor (now attributed to Marie).
152
TYDOREL, AND SIR GOWTHER.
153
Devil. The analysis of these elements in Tydorel, and an
investigation of their sources, are the main objects of this
study, which, however, includes necessarily a somewhat de-
tailed comparison of the latter with Sir Gowther.
The points of contact between Sir Gowther and Tydorel are
too numerous to be the result of chance. That they may
be evident to the reader at a glance, I have arranged the
parallel episodes in corresponding sections below.
Tydorel.
1) The King and Queen of Brit-
tany, after ten years of happy married
life, find themselves still without an
heir.
2) The queen, while sitting in her
garden, is approached by a hand-
some stranger, who requests her love,
threatening at the same time that, if
she reject him, she will never more
know joy. He declines to reveal his
name or lineage, but, catching the
queen up before him on his steed,
he rides away with her to the shores
of a neighboring lake, and, leaving
her there, plunges beneath the waters
and disappears. On his reappear-
ance, he tells her that his home is
beneath the forest, and that he comes
and goes through the waters of the
lake. He then forbids her to ques-
tion him further.
The queen, captivated by his
mysterious charm, yields to his re-
quest, and, at parting, the stranger
foretells the birth of their son,
Tydorel, who shall be endowed with
all gifts of nature and fortune, but
who shall be marked by one strange
characteristic — he shall never sleep.
The love of the Queen and the
stranger Khali endure many years,
etc.
Sir Gowther.
1) The Duke and Duchess of
Austria live happily together until
finally, the duke, despairing of an
heir, threatens to divorce the child-
less wife.
2) The duchess, in despair, prays
Heaven to send her a child, she
cares not whence it may come.
Soon afterwards she is approached,
while sitting in her orchard, by a
stranger disguised as her husband,
who demands her love.
At parting, however, he reveals
himself as the arch-fiend in person,
and prophesies the birth of their son
and his unruly character. Having
uttered this prophecy, the stranger
departs, and is seen no more.
154
FLORENCE LEFTWICH RAVENEL.
3) The King knows nothing of
this episode, and welcomes the ad-
vent of Tydorel with delight.
From the beginning, the child is
marked by extraordinary beauty and
strength.
He grows to manhood, beloved by
his friends, feared by his foes, and,
in due time, succeeds to the throne
of his supposed father. His sleep-
less nights are spent in hearing tales
of adventure.
4) On one occasion the king sends
for a young man of the people, a
goldsmith by trade, to beguile his
sleeplessness by the telling of stories.
The young man declares that he
knows no tales to tell ; but when
threatened by the king, retorts that
one thing at least he does know —
that the man who does not sleep is
not of mortal birth.
5) Stung by this speech, Tydorel
begins to reflect, and finally, over-
whelmed with suspicion and fore-
boding, he rushes to his mother's
chamber, and with a threatening
countenance and drawn sword, forces
her to reveal the secret of his birth.
She repeats the knight's prophecy,
and gives the history of their rela-
tions from beginning to end.
6) Tydorel, on learning of his
supernatural birth, immediately
orders his horse, and, without ex-
planation or farewell, rides away to
the shore of the lake. There, still
mounted on his steed, he plunges
beneath the waters and is seen no
3) The duke, knowing nothing of
these events, welcomes the child as
his own, and surrounds him with
every attention. Gowther from his
birth is of wonderful strength and
precocity, but violent and cruel
beyond the measure of humanity.
His rule is a reign of terror and
vice.
4) As Sir Gowther grows older,
his wickedness increases apace.
Finally an old earl, outraged by his
deeds of sacrilege and rapine, dares
to inform him that his subjects are
convinced that one so fiendish and
inhuman cannot have been begotten
by a mortal father.
5) This accusation brings the
young man to reflexion, followed by
remorse and despair. He goes at
once to his mother's chamber, awak-
ens her, and, with great violence,
demands to know his father's name.
The duchess, with shame, reveals
all, and mother and son weep tears
of grief and repentance.
6) Gowther then recommends his
mother to a life of penance, and
himself sets out without delay to
seek counsel and pardon ffom the
Pope at Borne.
Part second gives the story of
his long and bitter expiation, of his
final forgiveness, his marriage with
the Emperor's daughter, and acces-
sion to the throne of the empire.
TYDOREL AND SIR GOWTHER. 155
To sum up : The points of contact between Tydorel and
Sir Gowther are the following : —
1) The long and happy union of the married pair. The
desire for an heir is implied in Tydorel, emphasized in Sir
Gowther.
2) In both, the father is a supernatural being, who appears
to the wife in her orchard and who, at parting, prophesies
the extraordinary character of the son to be born of their
union.
3) In both, the husband is unaware of the stranger's visit,
and welcomes the child as his own.
4) The child is of uncommon mental and physical vigor
in both stories, and is distinguished from other children by
some marked characteristic. He succeeds to the throne of
the realm.
5) The hero is made aware of his supernatural origin by
a remark, thrown out almost at random, by a person neces-
sarily ignorant of the real state of affairs.
6) Tydorel and Sir Gowther both force an avowal from
their mother, by threats of violence, and both proceed to act
immediately upon the information which they receive from
her concerning their origin.
The legend of Robert the Devil has been studied in great
detail, and with most interesting results, by Karl Breul.1 He
gives us a careful edition of Sir Gowther, a late offshoot of
the old saga, but in his long and exhaustive discussion of the
sources and the various versions of the Kobert legend, Sir
Gowther has been dismissed with a summary and, perhaps,
inadequate treatment. The legend, according to Breul, has
no historical foundation, but, traced to its ultimate source, is
found to be a clerical redaction of two old folk-lore themes,
the first of which has been generalized under the name of the
1 Sir Gowther, Eine Englische Romanze aus dem XVten Jahrhundert, von
Karl Breal, Oppeln, 1886.
156 FLORENCE LEPTWICH EAVENEL.
Kinder- Wunsch motive, while the second (and by far the
more important element) is the motive of the male Cinderella,
or, in other words, the story of the prince who lives for long
years at the Emperor's court, disguised as a beggar or
scullion, who in time of war, rescues the empire from its
enemies (still in disguise), but who finally reveals his true
rank, and receives the hand of the princess as his reward.
It is with the former theme, however, that we are here
concerned — with the Kinder- Wunsch stories. In all of these
(and there are many in many languages) the birth of a child
long desired by its parents is due to extra-human powers,
the intervention of which is made subject to certain condi-
tions— usually that the child is to be delivered up to the
demon or fairy at the expiration of a certain time. Almost
always the child gives evidence of his strange origin by his
beauty and precocity, and when at last he is apprised of the
vow which binds his parents, he succeeds in freeing himself
from the dominion of the powers of evil, sometimes by his
own cunning and skill, sometimes by the direct assistance of
the Virgin. Often through his exceptional cleverness, we
find him rising to positions of wealth and eminence.1 Often,
too, the boy's adventures include a sojourn at the demon's
home, not necessarily in Hades, often in some enchanted
region on or under the earth.2
According to Breul, the monkish theorizers of the Middle
Ages have made of this story a sort of test case. Always
musing over the problem of sin and the possibility of atone-
ment, they saw in Robert, or in his prototype, an example
of the extreme measure of depravity, of wickedness both
inherited and actual. For such a sinner, they ask, what
expiation is possible in this world or the next ? The first
1 Breul, Introduction, pp. 115-117.
2 Cosquin's Contes Populaires de Lorraine, Romania, VII : Le Fils du Diable.
TYDOREL AND SIR GOWTHER. 157
part of the story propounds the question, the second part
gives the monkish solution.
In its developed form, the legend of Robert is certainly
French,1 though the popular tales which lie at its foundation
are found among many nations. But Sir Gowther, which is,
on the one hand, unmistakably a version of Robert the Devil,
claims, on the other, to be derived from a Breton Lay,2 and
we cannot, without good reason, disregard the author's
assertion.
Moreover, when Sir Gowther varies from the more familiar
versions of Robert, it often approaches Celtic tradition.3 Let
us see, then (1), in what particulars this variations occurs
and (2) whether Sir Gowther in departing from the tradi-
tional accounts of Robert, comes the nearer to Tydorel,
which also, as we know, claims a Breton origin :
" Cest conte tienent a vend
Li Breton qui firent le lai." 4
(T., 11. 480 and 481.)
1) The orchard scene5 and the circumstance that the
demon, or fairy, is actually the father of the hero, are not
found in any other known version of Robert. Here Sir
Gowther corresponds closely with Tydorel. In the other
versions of Robert, the child is the son of the duke and
duchess, though his birth is due to supernatural intervention.6
2) In Sir Gowther the strange suitor is represented as
taking the form of the duke, a fact which greatly palliates
the guilt of the duchess. This feature is, naturally, absent
from other versions, and is not found in Tydorel. In the
1 Breul, Introduction, p. 50. » Breul's text, 11. 27-30.
"Breul, pp. 64-65.
* Lais Inedils, Romania,, VIII, pp. 67-72.
8 For similar scenes in Celtic literature, cf. Sir Orfeo, Kittredge, in Am.
Jour, of Phil. , vol. vn, pp. 176-202.
•For versions of Robert, cf. Breul's App., pp. 209-241.
158 FLORENCE LEFTWICH RAVENEL.
popular tales the disguise is common, but it is not only
unnecessary but illogical in Sir Gowther.
3) In Sir Gowther, as also in Tydorel, the husband is
unaware of the relations existing between his wife and the
stranger. In Robert the Devil accounts differ; sometimes
both parents are parties to the contract, sometimes the father
only, sometimes the mother.1
4) The manner in which Robert is brought to repentance
differs widely in the different versions.2 Sometimes the
change comes from within, sometimes he is converted through
the ministrations of a pious hermit. In Etienne de Bourbon,
his mother herself opens his eyes to his lost condition.
We have called attention to the fact that in Tydorel and Sir
Gowther the hero's suspicions are first aroused by a chance
remark of an outsider, quite ignorant of the truth.
But if we would know how far either of our two stories
may have been influenced by the other, we must examine not
only their points of contact, but their points of divergence.
1) In Sir Gowther the discord between husband and wife
is strongly emphasized ; in Tydorel it is not even intimated.
We only infer that an heir was ardently desired.
2) In Sir Gowther the stranger comes disguised as the
husband, but comports himself with brutal violence. In
Tydorel there is no disguise, but the lover is a model of
courtesy.
3) In Sir Gowther the stranger reveals his true character
at parting, but he goes never to return. In Tydorel, the
knight conceals his name, but his first visit is one of many,
extending over many years.
4) Sir Gowther excels his fellows in strength and activity,
but his chief characteristic is unbridled ferocity and prema-
1 Breul, Introduction, pp. 119-120 ; we read in the text of S. G. that the
Devil takes especial pleasure in deceiving women.
3 Cf. Breul' sApp.
TYDOREL AND SIR GOWTHEE. 159
ture perversity. Tydorel is a model of chivalry ; his sleep-
lessness is his only mark of superhuman origin.
5) At the end l Sir Gowther goes to Rome to seek forgive-
ness, Tydorel rejoins his father in fairyland.
Beside the foregoing differences in detail, there is, of
course, a complete contrast between the two works in tone
and feeling. Sir Gowther is unmistakably a Christian story,
expressing a real, if crude, religious sentiment. Tydorel is
frankly pagan and unmoral. Moreover, the traces of courtoi-
sie, of the chivalrous ideals in manners and conduct, which
we find in Tydorel, are completely absent from Sir Gowther,
where the tone is popular, almost brutal in places. What
then may we suppose to be the relation between these two
poems, so alike and yet so different in their likeness?
The relative lateness of Sir Gowther need not influence us.
In its present form it dates from the fifteenth century, but it
is composed, as we have seen, of much older material, while
Tydo)-el can scarcely be older than the first quarter of the
thirteenth century. However, without regard to dates, we
may at once reject the idea that Tydorel is an imitation of
Sir Gowther. The legend of Robert the Devil had already
in the thirteenth century taken on definite form and color,
and all consciousness of its composite structure had doubtless
been lost. It is highly improbable that a French jongleur
should have composed a version of the story which not only
eliminates all the religious element, but cleaves the legend in
twain just at the point where the two parts connect. Such a
supposition would attribute too much critical acumen to any
poet of this class or age.
But there is no such reason to forbid our supposing that
Tydorel was one of the sources of Sir Gowther. Moreover,
the author of Sir Gowther claims expressly to have used a
1 In referring to Sir Gowlher, I allude only to the first part.
160 FLORENCE LEFTWJCH KAVENEL.
" Lay of Brittany " ; and though it is conceivable that the
many and striking correspondences between the two works
are due to their derivation from a common source, we must
in justice first consider the claims of the one lai breton, deal-
ing with the same subject, which has come down to us.
Let us assume then, that the author of Sir Gowther, hav-
ing before him some version of Robert the Devil, had also the
Lay of Tydorel. According to the methods of those early
romance-writers, who were not hampered by questions of
copyright, our poet may very well have thought to heighten
the charm of his austere subject-matter by an admixture of
the more highly spiced episodes of the Celtic story. Indeed,
the resemblances between Tydorel and the more popular ver-
sions of Robert, were of just the sort to catch the eye and
charm the fancy of a popular poet — a likeness not of spirit
and purpose, but of individual incidents and situations ;
and, — given the faculty of combination, which was so large
a part of the mediaeval singer's endowment, — such a hybrid
composition as we have in Sir Gowther becomes a natural
product.
But the author had not reckoned with all the difficulties
of his task. For how can we make it appear plausible that
the arch-fiend in person can inspire a romantic passion, such
as the queen feels for the stranger knight in Tydorel? Hence
the clumsy device of the disguise, perhaps already known to
the writer in other tales, but which evidently has no place in
Sir Gowther. But if the fiend wears the form of the husband,
what becomes of the wife's guilt? It dwindles to a mere
inarticulate prayer ("she cares not whence it come"), wrung
from her by her desperate plight ; and this surely does not
deserve so terrible a punishment. The circumstances of the
wife's concealment and of her husband's joyful acceptance
of the child as his own, are but necessary results of the
orchard episode. If the author of Sir Govdher copied the
TYDOREL AND SIB GOWTHER. 161
first, he must have copied the others. Even the device
employed to awaken the young man's suspicions, and so
bring about the catastrophe, shows signs of imitation, since
the peculiar circumstances are reproduced nowhere else.
If this hypothesis be admitted,1 we shall have to record
a curious phenomenon. Here is a popular folk-lore theme
entering twice, at different epochs and under different forms,
into the structure of the same legendary cycle. For if the
motive of the Kinder- Wunsch is a component part of Robert
the Devil, it is none the less certainly one element in the story
of Tydorel.2
A superficial examination of Tydorel suffices to convince
us of its composite character. We find inexplicable gaps
and still more inexplicable repetitions, while certain episodes
seem without justification in logic or reason. Why, for
example, should the queen, who loves her husband devotedly
in the first paragraph, yield so easily to the solicitations of a
stranger in the second? Why should her strange suitor
warn her so solemnly that if she repels his advances, she
will " never more know joy ? " After promising to reveal
his name and birth, why should the knight only admonish
the queen to ask him no more questions ? If he proposes to
visit the queen habitually, it seems strange that he should
think it needful to foretell the events of twenty years on this
first occasion. Above all, why should sleeplessness be chosen
as Tydorel's distinguishing characteristic? Questions like
these arise at every step, and in order to answer even a few
of them, we shall have to analyze more closely the contents
of the poem.
Notice that in both Tydorel and Sir Gowther, the question put by the
hero to his mother, takes the same form : "Who is my father?"
2 Breul inserts as the immediate source of Gowther a hypothetical Breton
lay. He believes that Sir Gowther is a translation of a complete Breton
version of the legend, whether written in French or not he does not say.
The substitution of Tydorel for this unknown lay greatly simplifies the whole
problem.
11
162 FLORENCE LEFTWICH BAVENEL.
1. In lines 1-15, we are told of the happy married life
of the king and queen. Their only sorrow is the absence
of an heir. Clearly this is the introduction to the Kinder-
wunsch motive. Karl Breul's thorough study of this theme
makes it unnecessary to dwell upon it here. The keynote
of the story, in all its forms, is the contract made by the
parents with the Evil One before the birth of the child, in
consequence of which the child is subject to the powers of
darkness, from whose dominion it is freed finally, either by
its own ingenuity, or by the intervention of Providence.
Always, whatever the difference in detail, the child is con-
ceived of as under a ban — handicapped from his birth by
the sin of his parents.
2. In lines 16—160, we are aware of a complete change
of tone, and it is not until we reach line 161 that the familiar
note recurs (161-199). Lines 16-160 are devoted to the
garden episode with the love passages between the queen and
the stranger, which remind us strongly of analogous scenes
in Marie's Lays — in Guigemar, for example, Yonec, and
Lanval.
3. After a brief resumption of the first theme (lines 161—
199, containing the joy of the king over Tydorel's birth),
we come to the description of Tydorel, his beauty, charm,
and popularity. We find here one striking difference between
Marie's Yonee and Tydorel. For Marie, the important ele-
ment is the love story ; the child is of subordinate interest.
Yonec, indeed, serves only as the avenger of his parents'
death. In Tydorel, on the contrary, the child is the main
interest ; the love story is only preliminary, though it may
seem to occupy an undue proportion of space.
4. From line 296 to 475 we resume theme number 1.
Here the hero is distinctly under a mysterious ban, separated
from his fellows by a characteristic which he recognizes as a
curse, and the explanation of which he extorts with violence
from his trembling mother. This is surely Robert the Devil.
TYDOREL AND SIB GOWTHER. 163
5. In the conclusion, however, we lose him again, and
find, instead, a being oblivious of moral obligation and
unconscious of guilt. We have, in short, a resumption of
the theme begun in the garden scene, which I shall call the
wonder-child motive.
The characteristics of this theme are the following : —
1. A supernatural being, fairy or demi-god, falls in love
with a mortal woman.
2. By various expedients he gains her love, and the fruit
of their union is a son, who is reputed to be of a mortal
father, but who really is destined to reproduce, more or less
faithfully, the attributes of his supernatural parent.
3. This child is, accordingly, distinguished from his
fellows by extraordinary beauty and strength, sometimes
by superhuman powers. Usually he has relations with the
unseen world, and at death rejoins his father in the land
of Faeiy.
As we shall see later on, there is reason to believe that
these two themes (that of the Kinder- Wunsch and that of
the wonder-child) derive originally from the same source.
But in the popular handling of them they are, in general,
kept apart, and have received quite different developments.
The hero of the former is essentially a being of ill-omen, set
apart for an unhappy destiny ; while all the gifts of nature
as of fortune are heaped upon the head of the wonder-child.
Where shall we look for an explanation of the contrast ?
Christianity is the most exclusive of religions. Officially,
at least, the Church can make no compromise with Heathen-
ism. The dwellers in Olympus and in Walhalla, as well as
the gods of Celtic mythology, were to the missionaries simply
evil spirits, fallen angels who belonged to Satan's kingdom.
If sometimes, in dealing with the beliefs and customs of the
common people, the priest took a more tolerant attitude, it
was yet rather by silence than by actual concession. Lucky
indeed was the ancient divinity who was suffered still to hide
164 FLORENCE LEFTWICH RAVENEL.
his head beneath the green hill, once his peculiar domain ;
or in the bed of some lake or stream, across which he had
often pushed his boat, bound on adventures of love or war.1
What wonder if this change of fortunes brings with it a
corresponding change of disposition ? 2 The dethroned gods
degenerate. Sometimes they become mere tricksy sprites,
working good or evil according to their caprice, while again
they are represented as actual demons, finding a malicious
delight in beguiling and discomfiting unsuspicious mortals.
But the knight in Tydorel is neither sprite nor demon ; he
is like other men, save for his more than mortal beauty and
the mysterious charm that he possesses, which bends the will
of others to his. He reminds us, indeed, of the fairy chief
Midir, in the Irish story of the Wooing of Etain, cited by
Mr. Kittredge as an analogue of Sir Orfeo. And, if I mis-
take not, we shall find upon examination that Midir and the
father of Tydorel are of one race and one kindred.
In the early Celtic legend, especially that of Ireland,3 we
find not fewer than three notable heroes all of whom bear a
striking resemblance to Tydorel in the circumstances of their
birth. The most ancient and least known of these is Mongan,
the reputed son of Fiachna, but really the son of Manannan
Mac Ler, god of the sea, one of the Tuatha D6 Danann, or
sons of the Goddess Danu. The god visited Fiachna' s queen
in the absence of her husband, according to one version tak-
ing the form of the king, according to another frankly
acknowledging his name and his errand, and in both fore-
telling the birth and wonderful endowment of the child
Mongan. In both stories, also, the wife's submission is
made the condition of the husband's life and safety.4
1 Voyage of Bran, vol. IT, pp. 211-213 et al.
2 Sir Orfeo, Kittredge, in Am. Jour, of Phil., vil, pp. 195-197.
3 Sir Orfeo, Am. Jour, of Phil. , vol. vn.
4 Voyage of Bran, vol. I, pp. 175-208 et al. ; Ibid., vol. n, pp. 1-38;
Cycle Mythologique Irlandais, by D' Arbois de Jubainville, pp. 267-333 et al.
TYDOREL AND SIR GOWTHEB. 165
The characteristics of Mong&n are related at length in the
versified portions of Bran's Voyage. There we hear that
" Fiachna will acknowledge him as his son, that he will
delight the company of every faery knoll," and be the
" darling of every goodly land." He is to have the power
of shape-shifting, the ancient prerogative of the Tuatha D&
Danann; he will reign long and "be slain by a son of error,
and after death will be borne to the gathering where there
is no sorrow." Numerous tales emphasize the relations of
Mongan with the Aes Siddht, or folk of the mound ; also
his power of shape-shifting,1 and if none of them assert
explicitly that the hero returns ultimately to the Land of
Promise, this omission is probably due to an early confusion
of the wizard Mongan and a historical person of the same
name.2
I give in substance Mr. Nutt's interesting parallel between
Mongan, Arthur, and Find :
1) Find is a South Irish chieftain of the third century of
our era, though later notices associate him with West Scot-
land. He is first referred to in documents of the eighth
century. The facts concerning him which interest us in this
connection are the following : Find is a posthumous child,
reared in the forest, the destined avenger of his father,
possessor of magic gifts and powers, and deserted by his
wife for his favorite nephew and warrior.
2) Arthur of the great Breton Cycle, whose historical
prototype is a dux bellorum of the fifth and sixth centuries,
is located in southern Scotland and northern England, while
the romantic part of his history is associated with South
Wales. Arthur owes his birth to shape-shifting on the part
of his father, which reminds us of Mongdn. Arthur's wife
1 Voyage of Bran, I, App., p. 52.
''Ibid. , I, App., p. 87 ; also pp. 139-141.
166 FLORENCE LEFTWICH RAVENEL.
is unfaithful, as is Find's, and like both Find and Mongdn,
he has relations with the immortals. At his death he passes
to Avalon. The Arthur legend was known more or less
from the ninth century on, and became widely popular
throughout both Great and Little Britain during the twelfth.
3) Mongan, as we recall, is the son of a god, or according
to some accounts, a rebirth of Find. By the oldest tradi-
tion, his mother is unaware of his supernatural character.
" Mongan' s boyhood is passed in the land of Faery with his
father, he is a magician, who can change his shape at will,
he loses and recovers his wife," has dealings with the fairies
and, it is to be inferred, passes into fairyland at death. The
Mongan legend belongs to northern Ireland, and dates at
least from the eighth century, the time at which the versified
portions of Bran's Voyage were composed.1
I quote from Mr. Nutt : " Earlier than, and underlying
the heroic legends of Finn, Arthur and Mongitn, I assume
that among the Celtic-speaking people of these islands,
Goedels and Brythoos both, there was current the tale of a
wonder-child, begotten upon a mortal mother by a super-
natural father, reincarnated in him, or transmitting to him
supernatural gifts and powers, associated with his father in
the rule of that Land of Faery to which he passes after his
death. Such a tale would be a natural framework into
which to fit the life story of any famous tribal hero. Identifi-
cation might arise from, or at least be facilitated by, identity
or likeness of name, possibly again from likeness of circum-
stance. Once the identification was established, the legend
would be subject to two sets of influence ; one purely romantic,
derived from, and further developing, the mythic basis ; the
other, historic or quasi-historic, anxious to accommodate
the traditional incidents to the facts of the hero's life." 2
1 Voyage of Bran, vol. n, pp. 27-29.
2 Voyage of Bran, vol. I, p. 28.
TYDOREL AND SIR GOWTHER. 167
In the Mongdn legend and in these others which treat of
a kindred theme, we have come, I believe, to the kernel, the
ultimate source of the wonder-child element in Tydord.
Here we find, if not all, at least most of the typical charac-
teristics of this mythical personage. And those points at
which Tydord diverges from the more archaic and properly
mythical treatment of the theme, may be accounted for as
we explain similar variations in the legend of Arthur. They
are devices of the annalist or of the jongleur either to harmon-
ize the story with the beliefs and conditions of a later age, or,
perhaps, to fit it into the life of some historical personage.
The garden episode in Tydorel, for example, has many
analogues in Celtic story. It agrees strikingly with the
Mongan legends, of which it follows sometimes one, some-
times another. For example, the queen's husband, in one
Mongan tale, has been called away to Scotland to succor a
friend hard pressed in battle. In Tydord, the king is absent
on a hunting expedition. Tydorel's mother, like Euridice
in Sir Orfeo, is reclining under an Impe, or grafted tree, in
her garden, when she is approached by a stranger whose
beauty and dignified mien accord well with the description
of the " noble-looking man," who appeared to Fiachna Finn
on the battlefield, and visited his wife in the palace.
" Centre val le jardin garda
Si vit un chevalier venir
Soef le pas, tut a loisir ;
Ce fut le plus biaus hon du munt
De toz iceus qui ore i sont,
De raineborc estut vestuz,
Genz ert e granz e bien membruz."
(Tydord, 11. 40-47.)
" As they were conversing, they saw a single, tall warlike
man coming towards them. He wore a green cloak of one
color, and a brooch of white silver in the cloak over his
breast, and a satin shirt next his white skin." In both
168 FLOEENCE LEFTWICH EAVENEL.
stories the birth of the child is foretold and his extraordinary-
gifts detailed. "A glorious child shall be begotten by me
there," says the warrior to Fiachna, "and from thee shall he
be named .... and I shall go in thy shape. . . ." In the
other version, he says to the queen : " Thou shalt bear a
son. That son shall be famous, he shall be Mongan." l In
Tydorel the knight says :
' ' De moi avrez un filz molt bel,
Sil ferez nomer Tydorel ;
Molt ert vailanz e molt ert prouz,
De biaute sormontera toz." (11. 113-120. )
We may reasonably ask, however, why TydorePs mysteri-
ous father should have decreed that he should be sleepless ?
There was certainly nothing distinctively godlike in this
characteristic, for though the gods may be assumed to know
no weariness, yet the spirits of evil, too, are known to be
especially active during the hours of darkness, when men
are at rest and off their guard. Probably only the author
himself could satisfy our curiosity on this point. We may,
however, suggest that the very equivocal nature of this attri-
bute of sleeplessness was perhaps its chief recommendation.
The author of Tydorel is handling, as we know, not one
theme, but two, which have but little real resemblance.
Somewhere his two motives (that of the Kinder- Wunsch and
that of the wonder-child) must blend, if he is to succeed in
producing even superficial unity of action. A close study
of the story will convince us, I think, that our poet has met
the difficulty as cleverly as was possible in the circumstances.
In the story of the wish-child, the crisis always comes
with the revelation to the hero of the circumstances of his
birth. This disclosure is made usually by the parents, and
1 MS. Book of Fermoy, p. 131 a. (D'Arbois de Jubainville, Catalog, p.
206, quoted in Voyage of Bran, vol. I ; App. , p. 44. )
TYDOREL AND SIR GOWTHER. 169
often under compulsion. But in those Celtic myths which
we have been examining, the fact of superhuman paternity,
so far from being a disgrace, is the highest, most coveted
distinction. Yonec l shows no sign of shame when told of
his real father's name and nature, and we are told of Cuchul-
lin that, when questioned as to his parentage, he ignored his
human father and boasted his descent from the god Lug.2
The author of Tydorel, looking for some compromise between
opposite traditions, may have bethought himself of the familiar
proverb : Qui ne dort pas n'est pas d'homme, and have wel-
comed here a solution to his problem.3
Still more was he embarrassed, we may surmise, by his
desire to give a tone of courtoisie to a legend alien in its
spirit to every tenet of chivalry. In the other versions of
these stories, there is little or no trace of what we call
romantic love. The gods of the Celtic Pantheon are as
capricious in their fancies as Jupiter or Odin. They come
and they go ; and if they ever return, it is only to claim and
to carry away with them the son who is to reproduce on
earth their divine qualities. As for the woman, she goes
back to her mortal husband. In the twelfth and thirteenth
centuries, however, a loftier, more immaterial, conception of
love was felt to be indispensable to every courtly tale of
romance. No doubt Marie de France herself, womanly and
sentimental, shunning in her stories whatever savored of
brutality and barbarism, did much toward setting the new
standard of " courteous " love. To Marie, constancy, faith-
ful service of the beloved was the essence of true love — the
love which was outside the bounds of law or morals, and
which existed for its own sake.
1 Yonec, in Warnke's edition of Marie de France.
* Cuchullin Saga, Elinor Hull, Introduction, p. Ivi.
8Le Koux de Lincy's collection, I, p. 167 : "II n'est pas homme, Que
ne prend somme."
170 FLORENCE LEFTWICH RAVENEL.
We cannot doubt, I think, that the author of Tydorel was
familiar with the lays of Marie, and in particular with Yonec.
In this story, we remember, the queen is visited by a beauti-
ful knight who conies and goes in the form of a bird. Their
love continues until they are betrayed, and the knight is
slain by the jealous husband. Their son, Yonec, becomes in
time the avenger of his father's death, and inherits the
mysterious kingdom from which his father had come.
There are certain resemblances in detail between Tydorel
and Yonec, l which we may note in passing, without insisting
too strongly upon their significance, for a similarity in themes
may have produced a likeness in the treatment.
When the knight in Yonec, first appears to the lady, see-
ing her terror, he reassures her, but does not tell her his
name or his race :
Si li segrei vus sont oscur,
Gardez que seiez a seur.
( Yonec, 11. 125-129.)
Even when pressed, he refuses to be more explicit, except in
the matter of his Christian faith. The knight in Tydorel
observes the same discreet silence. In relating the birth
of Yonec, Marie tells us :
" Sis fiz fu nez e bien nurriz,
E bien gardez e bien chieriz —
Yonec le firent numer,
El regne ne pot on trover
Si bel, si pru ne si vailant
Si large ne si despendant."
( Yonec, 11. 453-468. )
Of Tydorel we hear :
Li termes vint, li filz fu nez,
E bien norriz, e bien gardez —
Tydorel le firent numer. (11. 175-178. )
1 Cf. also Tydorel, 11. 20-26 ; and Guigemar, 261 ff.
TYDOREL AND SIR QOWTHER. 171
De Tydorel firent seignur —
Onques n'orent il meillur —
Tant preu, tant curtois, tant valiant,
Tant larges ne tant despendant. (11. 220-225. )
But chiefly is the author indebted to Marie for that tone of
courtoisie which pervades his work, changing what is bald
and crude in the old story into the sweetness and the some-
what effeminate grace which Marie had made fashionable.
We have found then in Tydorel a contamination, or com-
posite structure made up of two elements :
1) The familiar folk-lore motive of the child devoted to
the devil.
2) The story of the wonder-child, also familiar to popular
mythology.
3) We find, besides these two, a third, pervasive rather
than distinct — a sort of infusion of the spirit of chivalry.
This we note especially in the romantic ideal of love pre-
sented, and we detect in it the influence of Marie de France.
The legend of Robert th# Devil was already fully developed
in the thirteenth century, so there can be no doubt that the
story of the wish-child was familiar in Celtic speaking coun-
tries, as in others. But we cannot be so certain as to the
channels through which the second element in his story came
into the hands of the author of Tydorel.
The lack of unity in Tydorel, as a whole, is doubtless open
to severe criticism ; but we must not deny to its author the
praise due to the ingenuity and even originality with which
he has embroidered and embellished his patchwork back-
ground, heightening its color, and so far as possible hiding
the seams. The garden episode is narrated with a simple
grace and naturalness worthy of Marie ; and the device by
which the catastrophe is brought about is really clever,
though not in accord with the spirit of the old stories. The
episode of the young goldsmith is indeed curious, quite
172 FLORENCE LEFTWICH RAVENEL.
without a parallel in any version of Robert, or in any other
popular tale which I have read. I incline to credit it to the
author of Tydorel as an original invention.1
We must remember, too, in judging Tydorel, that we have
probably not received the work in its original form. There
are passages so dissonant with the rest of the poem, and so
far inferior to it, that we are sure we have to reckon with a
late revisor. The object of these alterations and elaborations
was probably to lengthen the story, unusually short in its
original shape, and rather terse and concise in style. Per-
haps, too, this copyist found it advisable to introduce some
novel features, however questionable might be the taste of his
interpolations : witness the stupid bit of satire leveled at the
king's credulity in accepting Tydorel as his son.2
Almost certainly this copyist is the author of the queen's
confession, where at great length she recounts the whole
course of her relations with the stranger — repeating in great
great detail, and with many useless additions and repetitions,
the story told at the beginning of the poem. The prophetic
passage in which the knight foretells the birth not only of a
son, but of a daughter, is doubtless the work of a remanieur.
This daughter does not appear elsewhere, but we are informed
here that she is to marry a certain count, and from her are to
descend a long line of noble knights ; and, no doubt with the
idea of maintaining the symmetry of the tale, we are told
that these knights shall sleep even more than the rest of
mankind.3 Very possibly this passage may have been intro-
duced at a later date to flatter some patron of the poet by
giving him a denii-god for an ancestor.4
'Of. Romania, vni, Lais Inedits, Introduction to Tydorel, p. 67. G.
Paris says that this incident is familiar to Celtic and Oriental folk-lore,
but I have not identified it elsewhere.
8 Tydorel, 11. 165-175. s Ibid., 11. 344-475.
* Notice the attempts at variety and novelty in this passage, and the
marked avoidance of rhymes found in the first version : cf. 11. 104-110
with 423-444 ; 111-120 with 450-454.
TYDOREL AND SIR QOWTHER. 173
But if so large a part of Tydorel, as we have it, is foreign
to its original form, just what was the aspect of the story as
originally written or told? If we remove the clumsy addi-
tions of a late and inferior hand, and also those elements
which are due to the invention of the author (cf. pp. 20 and
21), we shall have left, obviously, the two folk-lore motives
previously analysed, that of the Kinder-wunsch and that of
the wonder-child. But we have seen that the former has no
real place nor fitness in our story, and is only very imper-
fectly combined with it by the ingenuity of a twelfth or
thirteenth century poet. (Cf. pp. 17, 18.)
At last in our process of reduction we reach the heart of
our legend, the substance of the Breton lay which, we may
suppose, bore the name of Tydorel. We may assume that
this lay was by one of the later contemporaries of Marie de
France, that it was written in French and contained the
history of a wonder-child, son of a god and a mortal, who in
all likelihood reproduced some of those supernatural powers
which we have seen in Mongdn, Find, Cuchullin, or Arthur,
and who at the close of his earthly career rejoined his father
in the realms of Faery.1
Turning again to Sir Gowther, we recall that we had
ascribed to the influence of Tydorel some of the elements
there found which are wanting in other versions of Robert
the Devil, notably the circumstance that the fiend is actually
1 Since we have seen that the author of Tydorel (1) was probably a con-
temporary of Marie, it may be asked why we do not attribute the lay to
Marie herself, assuming that whatever features are inconsistent with her
style and methods, were the work of the author of Tydorel (2).
My reasons for not assigning this work to Marie are the following :
1. Tydorel (1), judging from the elements which have survived in
Tydorel (2), was, I believe, a cruder, less artistic, more primitive pro-
duction than anything Marie has given us.
2. The romantic element, if not wholly wanting, was quite secondary,
and the interest centred in the mythical, not in the sentimental motive.
174 FLORENCE LEFTWICH RAVENEL.
the father of the child. In discussing this feature, Breul
says, "Dieser Zug ist ebenfalls uralt. Sowohl Beispiele wo
die Frau ihren Verfuhrer kennt, als solche wo sie ihn nicht
kennt, bei sonst gleichen Verbal tnissen. Wir befinden uns
hier auf dem Gebiet der Massenhaften Sagen von den Incu-
ben und Succuben. . . . Urspriinglich sind es mythologische
gottliche Wesen, aus deren Verkehr mit irdischen Frauen
dann machtige (oft allerdings gewalttatige) Manner ent-
spriugen." He quotes as the classic example, the verse of
Genesis where we are told that the "sons of God" loved
the "daughters of men."
He might, I believe, have gone a step further in his
deductions ; for what, after all, is the story of the child
devoted to the Devil before its birth, but a degradation of
the much older legend of the wonder-child? It may be
incredible, at first sight, that the motive which has culmi-
nated in one direction in Robert the Devil, can have arisen,
at the other extreme, to the conception of Arthur, the Blame-
less King. But after all, when we remember that Satan was
once the highest of the archangels, what transformation can
find us unprepared ? Dispossessed of their earthly kingdom,
banished to river-beds and caverns, the Tuatha De Danann
began their downward course. Still they were gods, though
gods in exile, and no mortal was discredited by their
addresses. It was left to the Christian missionaries to com-
plete their degradation. They were relegated to the rank of
earth-spirits — if not actually devils, yet certainly neither
gods nor angels. Moreover, as the new religion obtained
stronger hold upon the people, as monkish teaching usurped
the place of popular myth, we may well believe that the
sanctity of the marriage vow was emphasized, and that the
nature of any being who might tempt a woman to break it,
came to be regarded as evil, even fiendish.
In some such fashion we may picture the gradual change
TYDOREL AND SIR GOWTHER. 175
in the popular attitude towards the ancient gods. But if,
indeed, these supernatural beings were evil and malevolent
in character, how admit of love passages between them and
mortal women ? The very idea was abhorrent ! Hence the
modifications of the old story. Now the fiend appears in
disguise, either to both parents or to one alone; he is no
longer the actual father of the child, but the tempter, who so
works upon the desires of the parents as to secure for himself
the possession of the child.
This gradual transformation of the legend would account
for some of the variations in the popular tales treating this
theme. In some versions — notably, those at the basis of
Robert the Devil — the child is already at his birth perverse
and depraved beyond the measure of humanity. In others,
he is only more beautiful and vigorous than other children.1
In some stories the child's strength is superhuman, even in
its cradle : witness the nine nurses killed by Sir Gowther in
his first year. This is a trait common to heroes of all
nations,2 and in particular we are reminded of Cuchullin, for
whom no nurse could be found, until one of his own super-
natural race volunteered her services.
The question of the fulfilment of the prenatal contract
made by the parents with the demon, brings up a curious
parallel in the story of Mongan. In all the wish-child
stories, the child, at a certain age, is to be delivered up to
the demon; the time and circumstances vary in different
versions. In some tales, the Devil himself comes and car-
ries off the child at the appointed time.3 In others, espe-
cially in those where we detect clerical influence, the child,
struck by the growing sadness of his parents, forces from
them an avowal of his origin, and the fate that threatens
1Cf. Breul, Introduction, p. 121.
* Ibidem, p. 122 (citation from Luther's Table Talks, p. 300).
3 Cf . Cosquin in Romania, vii, pp. 223 ff.
176 FLORENCE LEFTWICII RAVENEL.
him. This is substantially the version we have in Robert and
in Tydorel, but the former seems, on the face of it, a more prim-
itive form. To this class belongs a tale in the Rhetian dialect,
called Miez Maset. The Devil disguised as a man appears to
the mother and asks, as if in jest, for half of what she is car-
rying. She is carrying an armful of herbs, and in her ignor-
ance accedes to the stranger's request. Some time afterwards
her son is born, and on the third day the Devil reappears,
this time in his true character, cuts the child in half, and
departs carrying with him his share.1 Again, the boy sets
out of his own accord to find the demon, and in one story
actually penetrates to Hades and spends some time, not
unprofitably, at the Devil's court. But we have not for-
gotten how on the third day after his birth, Manannan Mac
Ler appears and carries off Mongan to the Land of Promise,
where he remains until his sixteenth year.
In Robert the Devil, as in Tydorel, few traces remain of
those magical gifts transmitted by the gods to their mortal
children. There is the widest variation in this respect in
the popular tales. The Rhetian hero, Miez Maset, has,
besides his physical mutilation, a singular power of control
over animals. He has as his especial servant a marvellous
trout, which performs all sorts of extraordinary feats, includ-
ing the final restoration of the lost half of his person. In
many versions the youth works wonders of strength and
dexterity in fulfilling the conditions of freedom imposed by
the Devil; invariably, in the end, he outwits the Evil One
at his own game.
We thus see that in the stories of Robert the Devil and of
Tydorel, we are handling very old, originally mythical mate-
rial, common, it may be, to many nations, but to which we
find, in particular, many close analogues in early Celtic
1 Romanische Studien, Vol. n : Praulas Surselvanas, by Descurtins, No. 23.
TYDOBEL AND SIB GOWTHER. 177
legend. After many modifications and transformations, the
myth of the wonder-child enters Christian literature in
the form of Robert, the Devil, and begins a new and fruitful
career in the service of the new religion.
If the ancient stories themselves lived on and have come
down to us substantially unchanged, it must be because
they — the legends of Mongan and Find, of Arthur and
Cuchullin — were early identified with historical characters ;
and because, too, they entered into a literary form before
Christianity had acquired a hold on the faith and the fancy
of the Celtic-speaking peoples.
In the Lay of Tydorel we have, then, I believe, not only
that "lay of Britain" which the English author of Sir
Gowther "sought" and found, but we have, what is even
more interesting, a pale, discolored semblance of the myth
in its more primitive form. Here, though no longer a god,
the mysterious lover is still a creature of beauty and charm,
who bends mortals to his will and holds them in awe lest
they pry too curiously into the hidden things he may not
reveal. And here, too, we have some traces of the original
wonder-child, surpassing other children in strength and
grace, and set apart from them by at least one characteristic
that marks him as " not of man."
FLORENCE LEFTWICH RAVENEL.
ANALYSIS OF TYDOREL.
1. Tydorel (1), about the third quarter of the twelfth century :
Story of the Wonder-child.
2. Tydorel (2), before 1200 :
(a) Wonder-child : 11. 16-130 ; 175-244 ; 475-490.
(b) Wish-child : 11. 1-16 ; 160-162 ; 325-358.
(c) Episode of the goldsmith : 11. 244-330.
(d) The prophetic speech of the stranger knight.
3. Tydorel (3), first quarter of the thirteenth century :
Elements a, b and c, together with lines 164-175 and the queen's
long speech to Tydorel — in short, the poem in its present form.
12
178
FLORENCE LEFTWICH RAVENEL.
Wonder-child.
(Story of child bom of
* god and a mortal)
Marie de Franca
(Yonec= lover
in bird-form)
BIBLIOGRAPHY.
1. Litterature Fran$ai$e au Moyen Age, G. Paris. Paris, 1890, 2ieme 6d.
2. Lais Inedits, G. Paris, Romania, vni, pp. 32-74.
3. Sir Gowther, eine englische Romanze aus dem XVten Jahrhundert, von Karl
Bruel, Oppeln, 1886.
3. Le Cycle Mythologique Irlandais, D'Arbois de Jubainville, Paris.
4. The Voyage of Bran, 2 vols., London, 1895.
Translation of Kuno Meyer. Containing also two essays by Alfred
Nutt :
(1) The Happy Otherworld, voh I.
(2) The Celtic Doctrine of Rebirth, vol. H.
5. The Cuchullin Saga, by Elinor Hull, London, 1898.
6. Praulas Surselvanas, collected by Descurtins in Romanische Studien, Vol.
ir. (No. 23).
7. Cosquin's Contes populaires de Lorraine, in vols. v-xi of Romania.
III.— GOWER'S USE OF THE ENLARGED
ROMAN DE TROIE.
Joly's edition of the Roman de Troie represents substan-
tially the text of the poem as it was written by the author
and followed by Guido delle Colonne in his Historia Trojana.1
But a number of other translations were not made from the
original text, inasmuch as the work offered great oppor-
tunities for interpolations, added by scribes who did not con-
fine their activities to the duties of a mere copier. In 1888,
E. T. Granz, in a Leipzig dissertation, Uber die QueUenge-
meinschaft des mittelenglischen Gedichtes Seege oder Batayle of
Troye und des mittelhochdeutschen Gedichtes vom trojanischen
Kriege des Konrad von Wurzburg, from a careful comparison
of Konrad von Wiirzburg's Trojanerkrieg and the Middle
English Seege of Troye, postulated, as the common source of
the English and German poems, a redaction of the French
work, containing episodes common to them, but differing in
details from the text of the published work of Behoit. This
thesis was further developed by C. H. Wager, who in the
introduction to his edition of the Seege of Troye,2 contributed
further to the problem by an examination of the relations of
the three manuscripts to each other, and to their original.
The principal episodes upon which these two writers base
1 For a bibliography of the Benoit-Guido controversy, cf. G. L. Hamilton,
The Indebtedness of Chaucer's TroUus and Criseyde to Guido delle Colonies
Historia Trojana, 1903, pp. 41-42, n. Upon the possibility that Guide's
copy of the Roman de Troye was different from the text as published, cf. E.
Gorra, Testi inediti di storia trojana, 1887, p. 145 ; H. Morf , Romania, xxi,
91, n. 2 ; W. Greif, Zeitschr. f. vergleich. Literatur, N. F., n, 125.
2 N. Y., 1899. In a review of this book in the Modern Language Notes,
xv, col. 189 ff., I expressed a view directly adverse to my present standing
on the matter.
179
180 GEORGE L. HAMILTON.
their thesis are five in number : " Priam's effort to regain
Hesione, the dream of Hecuba, the judgment of Paris, Paris's
residence in Greece, and the youth of Achilles." l The exist-
ence of a common source is put beyond a doubt by the same
arrangement of certain incidents, in the telling of which there
is sometimes a verbal identity. No French original has as
yet been discovered which contains all these episodes, but in
the redaction of Jean Malkaraume, made in the beginning of
the thirteenth century, we find an account of Hecuba's dream,
the loves of Paris and Oenone, and the trick of Ulysses to
discover Achilles among the maidens, told of Menelaus and
Neoptolemus.2 The thesis that a fuller redaction existed,
could have been further established by a study of other
German and English accounts of these episodes, and a com-
parison of an Icelandic, a Roumanian, and numerous Irish,
Spanish, Italian, and Slavic versions of the Troy legend,
unknown to either Granz or Wager.
In the recently published Works of Gower, the editor, G.
C. Macaulay, has pointed out the indebtedness of the English
poet in a number of places to the Roman de Troie.3 For the
present I merely wish to show that several passages in the
English poet's work were taken from the enlarged Roman,
by a comparison with passages in the poem of Konrad, the
fullest and most accessible of the many versions.4
1 Wager, p. Ixii ; cf. Granz, pp. 86-7.
2 Cf. A. Joly, Benait de Ste. More et le Roman de Froie, vol. I, pp. 157,
165, 819 ; Greif, Die mittelalterlichen Bearbeitungen der Trojanersage, pp. 70,
94 ; Granz, pp. 4, 73-6, 86 ; Wager, pp. Iv, 67. On a further detail found
in Malkaraume's version and not in the published text, cf. Greif, pp. 120-
1, Zeitschr. f. Vergleich. Lit., n, p. 126.
3 Cf. vol. in, p. 651, s. v. Benoit. To the references given there should
be added : C. A. vn, 1558, VHI, 2515 ft. , 2545, 2592ft. ; Mirour de Pomme,
16760, 16672; Balades, xx, 17 ff., xxx, 8ft., XL, 5-6, XLII, 8 ; Traitie,
VI, 15, vm, 1, ix, 8, x, 1 ; Vox Clamantis, L, 441, 879 ft., vi, 1291 ft.
* Other accounts of Achilles' s life with Chiron are to be found in the
Seege of Troye (cf. p. 183, n. 2), the Liet von Troye of Herbert von Fritsl&r
GOWER'S USE OF THE ROMAN DE TROIE. 181
Of the episodes common to the other translations of the
enlarged Roman, only those relating to Achilles's youthful
training under Chiron, his life at the court of Lycomedes,
and his discovery by Ulysses, are told in enough detail to
(6289fl., cf. Fromman, Germania, n, p. 196 ; H. Dunger, Die Sage vom
trojanischen Kriege, p. 43), Enikel's Chronik (ed. P. Strauch, 14543-61),
Maerlant's Istoryvan Troyen (ed. de Pauw & Gaillard, 4783 ff. ), the Fiorita
of Armannino da Bologna (Gorra, pp. 316, 544) and 11 Trojano a stampa
(ib., p. 296). The first three of these unquestionably had the same common
source as Konrad's and Gower's narratives, but their accounts are so
abridged that parallel passages illustrating Gower's account can not be
cited. Of this same source there are suggestions in Maerlant's version,
which, however, shows that the main source at this point is the Achillei»,
which the author cites as his authority (107, 198, 4779-82, 6506). Gorra
has not published the text of this episode in the Fiorita, upon which to
base a judgment of its source ; but it is in all probability based on the
work of Statius, as is the account of Ulysses's mission to the court of Lyco-
medes. II Trojano, concerning the age of which nothing is known further
than the date of its publication in 1491, is said to be dependent on the Latin
poem at this point (cf. Romania,, xxi, 104). On German imitations of the
episode in Konrad, cf. Greif, pp. 124, 127-8 ; Dunger, p. 43.
Other versions of the embassy of Ulysses and Diomedes are to be found
in the Seege of Troy e (991-1132), Enikel's Chronik (14499-14542, 15069-
15430), Trojumanna Saga (p. 13, n. ; cf. p. 42, n. 3), the Ordnica Trojana
of Delgado (ed. 1579, Libr. in, chs. xv-xvii), a Galician version of the
same work ( printed in an appendix to the CrSnica Trojana, ed. Rodriquez
& Salazar, Corufia, 1901, vol. n, pp. 285 ff. ; cf. vol. I, pp. X-xi), the
Trojan passage in the Libro de Alexandre (385-392, 583; cf. Morel-Fatio,
Romania, iv, 89), the version in Cod. riccard. 881 (Gorra, pp. 242-3),
Maerlant's Istory (5363-6506 ; cf. 26430-67), the Fiorita of Arman-
nino (Gorra, p. 545), and // Trojano. Of these the first six had a
common source ; a judgment cannot be formed from the incomplete
analysis of the seventh. The account in the Fiorita follows the Achilleis
closely, as does that in II Trojano. The story is also found in the Alexan-
dria of Ulrich von Eschenbach (ed. Toischer, 18464-70, 18485-18502),
although not in the Trojan passage, which, as the rest of the poem shows,
had a common source with the Libro de Alexandre (cf. L. de AL, 312-
364; AL, 4877-4917; Romania, iv, 89-90). The source is not Hygi-
nus (Fabulae, 96), as suggested by Toischer, Sitz.-Ber. der Wiener Ak.,
Phil. Hist. Classe, vol. xcvn, p. 343. It is told in close connection with
the story of the feigned madness of Ulysses- Diomedes (!) in Ulrich (18465-
87), which is based upon the same source as the story in Gower (C. A., rv,
182 GEORGE L. HAMILTON.
show a common source more extensive than the Achilleis of
Statius. In the fourth book of the Confessio Amantis the
poet states :
" who that wolde ensample take,
Upon the forme of knyhtes lawe,
How that Achilles was forthdrawe
With Chiro, which Centaurus hihte,
Of many wondre hiere he mihte," (1968-72),
a passage which may be paralleled at once with Konrad's *
description of Chiron's fellows :
"Schyr6ne waren si gellch,
als ich von in geschriben vant :
Centauri waren si genant." (6274-6). 2
Gower continues :
" For it stod thilke time thus,
That this Chiro, this Centaurus,
Withinne a large wildernesse,"
" Hadde his duellinge, as tho befell,
Of Pileon upon the hel," (1973-5, 1979-1980),"
1815-1891), which is much fuller than the version given in Hyginus, Fab.
95. On further allusions cf. Gorra, p. 330, note.
For the motiv of the Achilles-Deidamia episode in Mediaeval litterature
cf. F. H. von der Hagen, Oesammtabendteuer, v. II, p. ix, v. in, p. cxxviii ;
K. Bartsch, Albrecht von Halberstadt, pp. xii, xli, ccxlvii ; Heinzel, Anz. f.
deutsche Alterth. IX, 253, 255 ; K. Voretsch, Epische Studien, I, 195 ; Cloetta,
Beitrage, I, 75.
1 Konrad von Wiirzburg, Der trojanische Krieg, ed. A. von Keller, Bibl.
des lit. Vereins z. Stuttg., 1858, vol. XLiv ; Anmerkungen, by K. Bartsch,
Id., 1877, vol. cxxxni.
a Statius (Achtt., i, 106) only mentions "longaevum Chirona," and
refers (111) to "Centauri stabula alta." With Gower's use of "Cen-
taurus" as a proper name, compare Chaucer's use of "Sibille" as a name
of Cassandra (T. & C., 1450-1; cf. Hamilton, Indebtedness, etc., pp.
109, n., 158). Elsewhere (C. A., vi, 522), in a story taken from Ovid,
Gower refers to the "Centauri," "quosdam qui Centauri vocabantur," as
his rubric explains.
3Achill., i, 106-7:
" domus ardua montcm
"perforat et longo suspendit Pelion arcu."
GOWER'S USE OF THE ROMAN DE TROIE. 183
a passage for which there is a close parallel in Konrad's lines,
"ez was ein wildiu cluse
und ein vil tiefiu schrunde,
dar inne er sine stunde
und alliu siniu jar vertete.
zuo dirre wiiesten waltstete."
"Der berc, der hiez Peleon,
dar under min her Schyron
wont in des steines krufte" (5898-5902, 5907-9).
In the poem of Statius there are only suggestions for these
details, and they are not brought into connection with
Achilles's own account of his early training, which finds
place much later on in the poem.1 In the poems of Gower
and Konrad on the other hand, they form one narrative,
which is told in the third person. The almost verbal simi-
larity of the following parallel passages puts the supposition
of one Romance source for the two accounts beyond a doubt.
C. A., iv, 1982-1997. Konrad, 6302, 6356, 6054-7.
1 ' Ther hath Chiro this Chyld to teche, ' ' zwelf jseric was der jungelinc. ' '
What time he was of tuelve yer " er ist ein zwelf jaeriger knabe. "
age ; J " er wolte ez dar uf ziehen,
Wher forto maken his corage daz ez gestiirstic waere,
The more hardi be other weie, und ez niht diuhte swaere
In the forest to hunte and pleie stritlicher sorgen biirde."
Whan that Achilles walke wolde,
lAchitt., n, 94 ff.
2 Cf. the line "When Achilles was seove zeir old " in the Lincoln Inn Ma
of the Seege of Troye (A. Zietsch, Arch. f. d. Stud, derneu. Sprachen, Lxxn,
37, line 1171) in the account of the training of Achilles, which Wager (p.
Ixxxii), against the opinion of Granz (p. 82), rightly assumes to have been
in the original English version. The error may be due to an untimely
reminiscence of the line "And whan the child was seven zer old" in the
account of the early life of Paris (Arch., LXXII, 17, 1. 249). The same
mistake is perhaps to be found in the Southerland MS. of the S. of T. (W.
Fick, Zur mittdengl. Romanze Seege of Troye, 1895, p. 16). The ultimate
source is Achill., n, 110-111 :
"vix mihi bissenos annorum torserat orbes
vita sequi."
184
GEORGE L. HAMILTON.
Centaurus bad that he ne scholde
After no beste make his chace,
Which wolde flen out of his place,
As buck and doo and hert and
hynde,1
With whiche he mai no werre finde;
Bot tho that wolden him with-
stonde,
Ther scholde he with his Dart on
honde
Upon the Tigre and the Leon 2
Pourchace and take his veneison,
As to a kniht is acordant.
1998-2004.
"And therupon a covenant
This Chiro with Achilles sette,
That every day withoute lette
He scholde such a cruel beste
Or slen or wounden ate leste,
So that he mihte a tokne bringe
Of blod upon his horn coininge.3
6202-3.
"diu kleinen cranken tierlin,
diu liez er ungetcetet."
6052-3, 6198-6201, 6213-6219.
' ' Schyron der liez daz knebelin
diu grimmen tier niht vliehen."
" uf aller vrechen tiere spor
hiez in sin meister gahen,
mit sinem spieze enphahen
muost er diu kiienen eberswln."
' ' D& mite geschuof der meister hdch,
daz er in dem walde vl&ch
kein iibel dine, des sint gewis.
ein tier, daz heizet tygris
und ist gar bitter-lichen arc,
daz kunde der juncherre stare
wol veigen unde villen."
6204-7, 6136-9.
"s6 siniu schoz gercetet
von bluote wurden alle,
so lepte in frouden schalle
Schyron, sin meister, alzehant."
"enphienc er danne die verlust,
daz im zerkratzet wart diu hut,
s6 wart er liep und als6 trut
dem meister sin Schyrone."
1 In this instance the statement in the AchiU., n, 121-3 :
' ' numquam ille imbelles Ossaea per avia damas
sectari, aut timidas passus me cuspide lyncas
sternere,"
furnishes a closer analogue to the passage in Gower, than the German text.
But this is only because for once Konrad has not followed his French
original so closely as the English poet.
'AckOL, n, 124-5 :
"et sicubi maxima tigris
aut seducta iugis fetae spelunca leanae."
8 AchiU., H, 126-7:
" ipse sedens vasto facta exspectabat in antro,
si sparsus nigro remearem sanguine."
GOWER'S USE OF THE ROMAN DE TROIE. 185
2005-2013. 6360-3, 6468-71.
"And thus of that Chiro him tawhte "ez wirt an sinem werke schtn,
Achilles such an herte cawhte, daz niendert lebet sin gelich.
That lie nomore a Leon dradde, ez war nie knabe s6 tugentrich,
Whan he his Dart on honde hadde, noch also ellenthaft geborn."
Thanne if a Leon were an asse ; " Achilles wart dar uf bereit,
And that hath mad him forto passe daz er daz beste gerne tet.
Alle othre knihtes of his dede, er schuof in dirre waltstet
Whan it cam to the grete nede, vil wunderlicher ding alsus."
As it was afterward wel knowe."
But it is in the episode of Achilles's life at the court of
Lycomedes and his discovery by Ulysses, that Gower's
indebtedness to another source than Statius is most apparent.
Condensed as Gower's narration is, it resembles the German
poem when it differs in treatment from the Achilleis, and a
comparison of passages in the poem of Konrad and the
English poet shows a similarity in details, which are fuller
than in the Latin poem. At the outset of Gower's story the
statement :
"The goddesse of the See Thetis," (C. A., v, 2961),
was taken from the same source as his account elsewhere
(C. A., v, 1330ff.) of some of the pagan deities, and Konrad
furnishes us with an exact parallel (838, 846 ; cf. 1070,
14012):
"si was geheizen Thetis"
"si was ein mergotinne."
When Gower continues with :
" Sche hadde a Sone, and his name is
Achilles, whom to kepe and warde
Whil he was yong, as into warde
Sche thoghte him salfly to betake,
As sche which dradde for his sake
Of that was seid in prophecie,
That he at Troie scholde die,
Whan that the Cite was belein.
Forthi, so as the bokes sein,
186
GEORGE L. HAMILTON.
Sche caste hire wit in sondri wise,
How sche him mihte so desguise
That noman scholde his body knowe," (2962-2973),
he is evidently following a passage in his original, of which
Konrad, after a usage common with him, has made double
use, in two different parts of his poem :
13402-15, 13440-59, 13469-74. l
" und d6 diu vrouwe Thetis
gar endelichen daz ervant,
daz sich der kiinic Priant
ze Troye het galazen nider
und er si wolte machen wider
mit kreften unde mit gewalt,
d6 wart ir angest manicwalt
umbe ir sun Achillesen.
si dahte, daz er niht genesen
mohte langer bi den tagen.
daz er ze Troye wiirde erslagen,
daz hete man ir vor geseit :
da von si truren unde leit
sl6z aber in ir herze d6. '
" ich sol behiieten und bewarn
daz er niht kom ze strite
viir Troye in siner zite
und der da werde niht erslagen.
sit daz ich von dem wissagen
des schaden sin gewarnet bin,
durch waz solt ich in denne hin
Ian komen zuo der veste ?
mir ist daz allerbeste,
daz ich nach im ker unde var
und ich in tougen eteswar
tuo den liuten ab dem wege.
1 Konrad relates the appearance of Proteus at the wedding feast of Peleus
and Thetis and his prophecy (4496-4616), to which he alludes elsewhere
(5773ff. ). In the Galician version of the Cronica Trojana there is a
chapter in which the story is told "Como obispo proteo diso aadeesa tetis
c5mo avia de morrer Achilles ena perca de troyax" and in this it is stated
that Achilles' s fate Thetis " soubo por rresposta de sens ydols et por aquella
dier a obispo proteo" (Cronica Trojana, Corufia, 1901, vol. n, pp. 285, 286).
5796-5817.
"geheizen wart Achilles
der junge hdchgeborne knabe.
als ich d£ vor gesprochen habe
und erst mit rede ergriindet,
s6 was von im gekiindet,
von Prothe6, dem wissagen,
daz er ze Troye wiirde erslagen
und daz er da gelsege t6t.
diu selbe clegelichiu n6t
der muoter sin vil nahe lac.
ze herzen gienc ir unde wac
diz leit viir alle swaere,
daz man ir seite msere,
daz er vor Troye stiirbe.
daz er do niht verdiirbe,
daz haste gerne si bewart.
die frouwe rich von h&her art
begunde in alien enden
dar uf ir sinne wenden,
daz er ze Troye koeme niht
und er die veigen ungeschiht
kiind eteswie gefliehen."
GOWER'S USE OP THE ROMAN DE TROIE. 187
ich nim in uz Schyr6nes pflege
und fiiere in uz der wilde
sin wunneclichez bilde
daz wil ich von dem lande stein
und alien Kriechen vor verheln,
w& der h6chgeborne si.
si miiezent sin hie werden vrl,
wan ich verbirge in wol vor in."
"sol ich in fiieren tougen
den Kriechen ab den ougen,
die siner helfe wellent gern.
si miiezent sin vor Troye enbern,
sit daz mir ist von im geseit,
daz er da werde t6t geleit."
Again Gower and Konrad in their lines :
C. A., v, 2974-9. Konrad, 13886-97.
"And so befell that ilke throwe, "seht, d6 gedahtes' an ein lant
Whil that sche thoughte upon this des ein vil werder kiinic wielt,
dede, der hus mit £ren drinne hielt
Ther was a king, which Lichomede und sin gewalteclichen pflac.
Was hote, and he was wel begon ez waz ein insel unde lac
With faire dowhtres manyon, in dem mer tief unde naz.
And duelte fer out in an yle," sin herre, der dar inne saz,
der lebte in hdher wirde gar.
von megden hete er eine schar,
die sine tohter waren
und alle kunden varen
riliches lobes in ir jugent,"
follow a more detailed text than the lines in the Achitteis :
"inbelli nuper Lycomedis ab aula
virgineos coetus et litora persona ludo
audierat." (i, 207-9).
At this point in his process of abridging the story in his
original, Gower makes statements for which there are no
analogues in the poems of either Statius or Konrad. In the
narratives of both these writers is told at length Thetis's
conveyance of her son to Scyros, her proposal that he should
dress as a maid to escape the peril that threatens him, his
indignant refusal and subsequent change- of mind after seeing
188 GEORGE L. HAMILTON.
Deidamia. It is only then that he accedes to his mother's
prayers, and receives her instructions in regard to his
behavior. In Gower, on the other hand, we find that
Achilles puts on the disguise without protest,1 and without
knowing the occasion, and only after he is dressed and
tutored :
"thanne his moder to him tolde,
That sche him hadde so begon
Be cause that she thoghte gon
To Lichomede at thilke tyde,
Wher that sche seide he scholde abyde
Among hise dowhtres forto duelle," (3022-7),
which is the same in substance as Thetis's reflections in
Konrad's narrative :
"Si dahte alsd, 'gefiier ich in
in einer megde bilde dar
und wirt er in der frouwen schar
getiischet und verborgen,
so endarf ich des niht sorgen
daz er da hofgesinde wirt
und daz im zuht und ere birt
der konig Lycomedes." (13962-71).
Gower's version of the story of the disguising of Achilles
and his arrival and life at the court of Lycomedes, is so
abridged that a comparison of parallel passages is not possible
except that in the lines :
"And thus, after the bokes sein,
With frette of Perle upon his bed," (3014-5),
there is a suggestion of the original of Konrad's lines :
"sin har daz wart gevlohten
und ein borte druf geleit,
gezieret wol nach richeit
mit gimmen und mit golde," (14945-9),
1Cf. the Galician version, Cr6n. Try., vol. II, p. 285: "Ca no queria
achilles taes vestidos tomar. pero tomoos por fazer mandado asna madre."
GOWER'S USE OF THE ROMAN DE TROIE. 189
rather than of the Latin verses, which could easily be mis-
understood by a mediaeval writer :
"et inpexos certo domat ordine crines
ac sua dilecta cervice monilia transfer!." (Achill., I, 328-9).
But the English poet's account of the trick of Ulysses to
discover Achilles is fuller and its resemblance to Konrad's
narrative is most striking. First of all, in Gower's account,
as in the narrative of Konrad,1 the search for Achilles is
made only after the first battles of Troy have taken place :
" For it befell that ilke throwe
At Troie, wher the Siege lay
Upon the cause of Menelay,
And of his queene dame Heleine.
The Gregois hadden mochel peine
Alday to fihte and to assaile.
Bot for thei mihten noght availe
So noble a Cite forto winne,
A prive conseil thei beginne." (3070-8).
In the Achilleis on the other hand it is at Aulis that the
Greeks decide to send for Achilles (Achill, I, 447 ff.). But
while in Gower's narrative Proteus is called on to reveal :
" Hou thei the Cite mihte get," (3087),
and he answers them by stating :
" Bot if thei hadden Achilles
Here werre schal ben endeles.
And over that he tolde hem plein
In what manere he was besein,
And in what place he schal be founde," (3093-7),*
1 As also in the Seege of Troye, cf. Granz, pp. 76-8 ; Wager, p. bcxviii ;
Enikel, 14491-14505, 15070 ff. ; Cod. riccard, 881 (Gorra, pp. 242-3).
JCf. Enikel's Chrmik, 14511-15, 14519-22 (cf. 15083-94) :
" du maht mit dinen sinnen "ersprach: fer ist verborgen
Troy en niht gewinnen, under juncfroun mit sorgen
du gewinnest dan einen man und treit an der frouwen kleit ;
den ich wol nennen kan, ungefuog ist im leit.' "
der ist Achilles genant."
190 GEORGE L. HAMILTON.
in the accounts of Statins and Konrad the Greek assembly
remember that the aid of Achilles is necessary for the capture
of Troy and only call on Calchas to reveal his hiding place
(AckilL, i, 473 ff. ; Konrad, 27074 ff.).
In the same way that he has substituted Proteus for
Calchas, Gower has taken suggestions of the description of
his accomplishments from the same place in the original
as the account of his prophecy at the wedding of Thetis.1
Gower's few lines :
"That Protheus of his record
Which was an Astronomien
And ek a gret Magicien,
Scholde of his calculacion
Seche after constellacion
Hou thei the Cite mihten gete :
And he, which hadde noght foryete
Of that belongeth to a clerk,
His studie sette upon this werk." (3082-91).
have a close resemblance to Konrad's more explicit statement :
" den louf und den gestirne
bekande der proph£te
waz iegelich plan£te
bezeichenunge brahte
wisliche er daz bedahte
und was uf ez versunnen.
er hete kunst gewunnen
mit richer sinne 16ne."
1 And not from Ovid, Metam., xi, 221 ff., as suggested by Macaulay,
Works of Gower, vol. ill, pp. 496-7. Gower's reference to the power of
Proteus to change his shape seems to be taken from the Roman de la
Hose. Cf. :
" And thanne I wisshe that I were
Als wys as was Nectabanus
Or elles as was Protheiis,
That couthen bothe of nigromaunce
In what liknesse, in what sem- " Car Prothe*us, qui se soloit
blaunce, Muer en tout quanqu'il voloit."
Eiht as hem liste, hemself trans- (R. de la R., 11951-2).
forme." (C. A., v, 6670-5).
GOWER'S USE OF THE ROMAN DE TROIE.
191
" swaz ieman schaffen solte
von wunderlichen sachen,
daz kunde er wol gemachen
mitzouberuf dererden." (4504-11, 4518-21).
While both Konrad and Gower describe in detail the
arrangements of Ulysses to entrap Achilles :
3102-13.
" Bot Ulixes er he forth wente,
Which was on of the moste wise,
Ordeigned hath in such a wise,
That he the moste riche aray,
Wherof a woman mai be gay,
With him hath take manyfold,
And evermore, as it is told
An harneis for a lusty kniht,
Which burned was as Selver bryht,
Of swerd, of plate and eke of maile,
As thogh he scholde to bataille,
He tok also with him be Schipe."
27476-9, 27482-3, 27502-11.
1 und war vil krames drin geleit
als ez gebot Ulixes,
wan er bediirfen wolte des
an alles krieges widersaz."
1 swaz wibes ougen wol geviel
daz alles wart geleit dar in "
' ouch wizzent, daz der helt gewan
daz dine, des man ze strite gert.
halsperge und uz erweltiu swert,
helm unde liehte schilte
hat im der kiinic milte
d6 tragen zuo dem schiffe.
man seit, daz umbegriffe
sin kiel vil maniger hande dine,
des wol ein frecher jungelinc
bediirfen mac ze kampfes wer,"
there is merely a suggestion of this narrative in the question
of Diomedes to Ulysses :
"quid inbelles thyrsos mercatus et aera
urbibus in mediis Baccheaque terga mitrasque
hue tuleris varioque asperas nebridas auro?"
(AchiU., I, 714-716),
and in the reply of Ulysses :
"tu cuncta citus de puppe memento
ferre, ubi tempus erit, clipeumque his jungere donis,
qui pulcher signis auroque asperrimus ; hasta
haec sat erit." (721-4).
Gower's and Konrad's descriptions of the revels at the
sacred festival :
3137-6.
" It fell that time in such a wise,
To Bachus that a sacrifise
28184-99.
vil manic herze ervrouwet
wart von gesange drinne.
192
GEORGE L. HAMILTON.
Thes yonge ladys scholden make ; 1
And for the strange mennes sake,
That comen fro the Siege of Troie,
Thei maden wel the more joie.2
Ther was Revel, ther was dauns-
inge,
And every lif that coude singe
Of lusti wommen in the route
A freissh carole hath sunge aboute. "
nu daz man die gotinne
mit opfer hete gfiret,
d6 wart dar tiz gek£ret
von der claren megede schar,
die sam ein sunne lihtgevar
da gaben luterbseren glanz
da wart ein wunneclicher tanz.
von in gemachet bi der zit,
der nach dem wunscheenwiderstrit
wart d6 gesprungen und getreten,
wan si gebaerde ein wunder heten,
diu wol ze tanze h6rte
und uz dem herzen storte
beswaerde manger leige."
resemble each other, with no similarity to the description in
the Latin poem, which is full of allusions that could not be
understood by a mediaeval writer (AchilL, I, 827-34). But
while in the Latin and German poems the Greek envoys
recognize Achilles beyond a doubt,3 by his unwomanly ways
1Cf. AchilL, i, 812-13:
" quid si aut Bacchea ferentes
' ' orgia Palladias aut circum videris aras ? ' '
Konrad 28055 has only "Pallus."
2Cf. AchM., I, 821-3:
" nee minus egressae thalamo Scyreides ibant
ostentare choros promissaque sacra verendis
hospitibus."
3 And also in the Seege of Troye, 1082-1090 (cf. Granz, pp. 83-4, Wager,
bcx):
"Achelles was long and grete Behelden euermore on Achelles,
withall, How he was so stowght and grymm,
Erode brest and stough vysage And inwardly behylden him,
Long body and shulders large ; And seyd it was neuer woman,
Alle the knyghtis that there was So large of shappe, body, ne bone
But the Galician Cronica Trojano resembles Gower's statement: "et n5
podero conoscer achilles porque estaua vestido como as outras donzelas et el
sya outre elas " (vol. n, p. 286).
GOWER'S USE OF THE ROMAN DE TROIE.
193
while dancing, Gower states :
" Bot for al this yit netheles
The Greks unkowe of Achilles
So weren, that in no degre
Thei couden wite which was he,
Ne be his vois, ne be his pas." (3147-51).
But then what follows in Gower is very similar, though not
told in such detail as in Konrad :
3152-6.
" Ulixes thanne upon this cas
A thing of hih Prudence hath
wroght :
For thilke aray, which he hath
broght
To yive among the wommen there,
He let do fetten al the gere."
3160-1.
"And every thing in his degre
Hedlong upon a board he leide." l
3156-9.
"He let do fetten al the gere
Forth with a knihtes harneis,
In al a contre forto seke
Men scholden noght a fairer se."
28270-85.
"dar under hete Ulixes
nach sime krame d6 gesant,
den er gefiieret in daz lant
des males hete durch gewin.
er was von sinem knehten hin
uz dem kiele d6 getragen
und uf den schoenen wee geslagen,
den die juncvrouwen sol ten gan.
die stolzen megede wol getan
die funden uf der straze
kleinoetes eine unmaze,
des man ze wibes werke darf.
man leite in ouch fur unde warf
geziuges vil, des ritter gerent
und sin vil kume denne enberent,
so si ze strite wellent varn."
28302-21.
"da bt lac allez, des ein man
bedarf ze ritterschefte wol.
swaz man ze strite fiieren sol,
des wart man sch6ne dfi, gewert.
dd lagen halsperg unde swert,
schoz, helme, schilte, lanzen ;
diz allez was mit glanzen
gezierden in den kram geleit.
dft lac diu groeste richeit,
'Cf. AchiU., i, 842-3:
" in mediae iamdudum sedibus aulae
munera virgineos visus tractura locarat."
13
GEORGE L. HAMILTON.
3162-7.
' ' To Lichoraede and thanne he preide
That every ladi chese schole
What thing of alle that sche wolde,
And take it as be weie of yifte :
For henself it scholde schifte,
He seide, after here oghne wille." l
diu von koufschatze ie wart gesehen
man lie die vrouwen alle spehen,
swes man bedurfen solte.
swaz iegelichiu wolte,
nach wunschte man si werte des,
wan ez gap in Ulixes
an alien kouf, des bin ich wer.
'ir vrouwen,' sprach er, 'ilent her
und nement, waz iu wol behage !
ich wil, daz man ez hinnen trage
vil gar an alles koufes gelt.'"
There can be no doubt of a common source more detailed
than the Latin poem, of the description of Achilles's actions
in the narratives of Gower and Konrad :
3168-73.
"Achilles thanne stod noght stille :
Whan he the bryghte helm behield,
The swerd, the hauberk, and the
schield
His herte fell therto anon ;
Of all that othre wolde he non." *
28342-59.
und d6 der helt Achilles
an aller missewende ram
was ouch getreten in den kram
und des gesmides inne wart,
daz wol nach ritterlicher art
erziuget was ze rehte
d6 wart dem kuenen knehte
zuo dem gewsefen als6 n6t,
daz er dar an sin ougen hot
und sines herzen willen.
man sach den helt Achillen
an daz gesmide luogen dar.
des dinges nam er kleine war,
des von den vrouwen wart gegert ;
halsperge, lanzen unde swert,
helm unde liehte schilte
besach der knappe milte
mit flizelichen ougen."
1GL Achill., i, 843-5:
" munera . . . signum hospitii pretiumque laboris :
Hortaturque legant, nee rex placidissimus arcet."
2 At this point the Seege of Troye does not follow its original as closely as
Konrad and Gower, but cf. 1111-2 :
" Achilles beheld aryght
The fayre armur that was so bryght."
GOWER'S USE OP THE ROMAN DE TROIE.
195
3174-5.
"And thilke aray which that be-
longeth
Unto wommen he forsok."
3173.
' ' The knihtes gere he underfongeth."
3181-2.
" He armeth him in knyhtli wise,
That bettre can noman devise."
28545-7.
" daz er begunde s& zehant
rait frechen henden sin gewant
zerbrechen und zerschrenzen."
28554-9.
"er kripfte halsperc unde hosen,
d6 so d/i lagen bi der zit,
und leite an sich diu bediu sit,
als eirae helde wol gezam.
dar zuo begreif er unde nam
ein swert und einen glanzen schilt. ' '
In his haste to point the moral, Gower has so abridged
his original that the citation of parallel passages is not possi-
ble. But some of the concluding lines of Gower's narrative
suggest as its source a specific account found in Der Trojan-
ische Krieg, for which there is no analogue in the poem of
Statius : l
•3192-5, 3199.
" For in Cronique is write yit
Thing which schal nevere be for-
yete,
Hou that Achilles hath begete
Pirrus upon Deidamie.
Bot that was nothing sene tho."
28652-65.
' ' diu h6chgeborne reine
clar unde wol gesunnen
het einen sun gewunnen
bi dem juncherren in den tagen,
und als6 tougen den getragen,
daz ir geburt da was verholen.
daz kint den liuten wart verstolen
so gar verborgenliche vor,
daz uf ir zweiger minne spor
nieman von sinen schulden kam
und ez der kiinic niht vernani,
daz si geworben hete sus.
daz kindelin wart Pirrus
genant, als ich gelesen habe."
The " Cronique " which Gower cites as an authority in these
lines, he has already mentioned as the source of the story :
" In a Cronique write I finde."
Sometimes when Gower refers to "a Chronique" as an
1 Cf. the allusions in Achill., i, 671-4, 908-9 ; n, 24.
196 GEORGE L. HAMILTON.
authority, his source is unquestionably the Roman de Troie,
such as it appears in Joly's edition, or the Historia Trojana,
which are also referred to as the " boke of Troie " and " the
tale of Troie." l
Having shown that these episodes in Gower' s and Konrad's
works had a common source, which differed in detail from
the poem of Statins, it may be well to note that all the
chances are against the possibility that Gower had a first
hand acquaintance with the Achilleis. It was a rare book
in English mediaeval libraries ; 2 very few are the references
to it in the Latin works of writers of the scholastic period,3
and I know of only two allusions to it in Middle English
literature.4 Gower does not even show an acquaintance
with the Tliebais, which was very widely read and used by
other contemporary writers. His reference to Capaneus 5 as
a type of impiety was probably taken from a collection of
exampla, as there is nowhere in his works mention of any
other of the characters of the Latin epic.
GEORGE L. HAMILTON.
1Cf. Hamilton, Chaucer* s Indebtedness, p. 148, n. ; cf. p. 97, n.
1 Manitius, Phttologus, MI, pp. 538-9 ; Rheinisches Museum, XLVII, Er-
ganzungsh., p. 63.
3 Manitius, PhiloL, Ml, p. 544 ; W. Greif, Die mittdalterlichen Bearbei-
tungen der Trojanersage, p. 140. There is a probable allusion to the
Achilleis in John of Salisbury's Polycraticus, I, 4, which has escaped the
attention of Manitius.
'Laud Troy Book, ed. E. Wiiffing, 4139 ff., cf. Engl Stud, xxix, p. 380 ;
J. Skelton, Garlande of Laurell, 337.
• a A., 1, 1980.
PUBLICATIONS
OF THE
Modern Language Association of America
19O5.
VOL. XX, 2. NEW SERIES, VOL. XIII, 2.
IV.— "TO BITE THE DUST" AND SYMBOLICAL
LAY COMMUNION.
The Spanish scholar, Ram6n Me.ne'ndez Pidal, who has of
late been engaged in the work of resurrecting Spanish epic
matter of the Middle Ages, has several times called attention
to a curious form of lay communion recorded in certain
traditions examined by him. Thus, in the tragic accoimt of
the seven Infantes of Lara which we find in the chronicle
called the Estoria de los Godos, it is stated that the seven
brothers, before beginning their last sad battle, " gave
communion and confessed all their sins, one to another"
(comulgaron e confesaron todos sus pecados unos d otros). On
this passage Men6ndez Pidal comments as follows (Leyenda
de los Infantes de Lara, Madrid, 1896, p. 36): "This sort
of priestly function, which, in default of clergy, relatives
exercised one for another, was a very orthodox doctrine for
the minstrels (juglares), and it even existed as a real custom
during the Middle Ages." 1 He cites the noted instance in
1 " Esta especie de sacerdocio que ejercfan entre si los parientes & falta
de cle'rigos, era doctrina muy ortodoxa para los juglares ; y aun existfa
realmente en las costumbres durante la Edad Media."
197
J. D. M. FORD.
the chanson de geste Aliscans, according to which Count
William not only heard the confession of his dying nephew,
Vivian, but also gave him by way of communion some
"pain beno'it" which the Count is said to have brought with
him in his scrip (vv. 826 if.). For other Old French
examples of this lay administration of the most august of
sacraments, Mene'ndez Pidal refers to Leon Gautier, La
chevalerie (Paris, 1890, pp. 44 ff.), where, in fact, no few are
mentioned, in all of which, however, the species of the
communion is symbolical, being either grass or leaves.
Menendez thinks that the symbolical form of communion
is likewise present in a passage of the Spanish Crdnica
general (ed. Ocampo, f. 39 2 d), which narrates that a certain
alcaide of Aguilar fell to the ground about to die, " but that
he first took communion of earth and commended his soul to
God" (pero que comulgo ante de la tierra e encomendose su
alma a Dios}. Returning to the subject in his investigation
of another Old Spanish legend, that of the Abbot Don Juan
of Montemayor (La leyenda del Abad Don Juan de Monte-
mayor, Dresden, 1903, p. xxvi), Mene'ndez sees a veiled
allusion to the symbolical practice in a description in the
1562 chapbook of a sally made by the besieged followers
of the Abbot upon their Moorish enemies. Before issuing
from their tower, the Christians, says the chapbook (Leyenda
del Abad, etc., p. 47, 11. llff.), "gave peace one to another
and gave communion and pardon one to another, in order
that God might pardon them " (dieronse paz los unos a los
otros y comulgaron y perdonaronse los unos a los otros, porque
Dios perdonasse a ellos). Mene'ndez is probably right in
supposing that the reference here and in the passage of the
Estoria de los Godos is to communion by earth, although
the fact is not explicitly stated, as it is in the case of the
alcaide of Aguilar. Another Old Spanish document, the
Poema de Alfonso XI (cf. the uncritical edition in the Biblio-
"TO BITE THE DUST." 199
teca de autores espaftoles, vol. 57) has the particular practice
clearly set forth. It describes the advance of a Christian
army toward the mountains where it is to engage a Saracen
force, and states that before the conflict the Christians took
communion of earth.
Stz. 1546. Yuanse contra la sierra. . . .
1547. E pues que se llegauan,
Ponian su avenenfia,
En las bocas se besauan,
En sennal de penitenpia.
1548. Salue Bexina yuan rresando,
Bicos omnes e i nfan<;oiu>s,
De la tierra comulgando,
Caualleros e peones.
1549. Arcobispos e frades
Dauan muy grandes perdones,
E obispos e abades,
Todos fasian orapiones.
What is truly remarkable in this case is — as MenSndez
points out — the fact that the communion of earth is practised
even though there are archbishops, bishops, abbots and friars
in the army.
While earth is the matter of the communion mentioned in
at least two early Spanish documents, grass figures in one
important work, the Gran Conquista de Ultramar (Biblioteca
de autores espanoles, vol. 44, p. 302), which belongs to the
14th century, if not to the latter part of the 13th. But
the Gran Conquista is indebted for most of its material to
French and Provencal sources,1 and the use of grass in
1 Cf. G. Paris, La Chanson d' Antioche provenfale et la Gran Conquista
de Ultramar, in the Romania, XVH, 513 ; xix, 562 ; xxn, 345 : G. Baist,
Spani&che Literatur in Groeber's Grundriss der romanischen PhUologie, II,
Abt. 2, p. 415 : E. Gorra, Lingua e letteratura spagnuoki (Milan, 1898), p.
311. The whole episode in the Gran Conquista parallels closely one in
the Old French poem, Les Chetifs, which, like the Gran Conquista, is con-
cerned with the Crusades and the story of the Knight of the Swan ; cf. L.
Gautier, Bibliographie des chansons de geste (Paris, 1897), pp. 76-77.
200 J. D. M. FORD.
the incident in question is doubtless due to those sources.
Chapter ccxxxvi of the Gran Conquista is concerned with
a duel between the knight Ricarte de Caumonte and the
Turk Sorgales de Valgris, in which the Christian prevails
over his antagonist. The latter abjures the religion of
Mahomet, and makes a confession of faith in the God
of Christians, whereupon Ricarte baptizes him and gives
him communion of a piece of grass, which he breaks into
three pieces, just as the priest does the consecrated host on
the altar. After this ceremony, the Christian knight, weep-
ing bitterly, cuts off the Turk's head at the latter' s request.
As the passage is decidedly of interest in that it gives a
reason for the administration of three pieces of grass, it may
be quoted here. " Estonces Ricarte tomo el yelmo, que yacia
en el campo, 6 fu6se para el rio, que era muy cerca, 6 trajolo
lleno de agua, 6 bendijolo de parte de Dios 6 santigu61o, 6
echolo a Sorgales por somo de la cabeza, 6 despues tomd una
hoja de yerba e santigudla, e hizola tres paries, como los
derigos hacen la hostia sobre el altar cuando consagran el
cuerpo de Dios, e diola al turco, 6 comiola en razon de
comunion, como hace el cle>igo el cuerpo de Dios en la misa,
6 todo esto hacia Sorgales con buena voluntad 6 con buena
fe ; 6 despues que la paso, dijo d Ricarte que le cortase la
cabeza con la espada, ca no queria jarMs vivir en este
mundo un dia cumplido por cuanto habia en 61," etc.
Now, this symbolical form of communion, with its assump-
tion of sacerdotal powers on the part of laymen, when no
clergyman could administer the real sacrament or otherwise
officiate, was certainly, as Men6ndez Pidal states, a mediaeval
custom, and it must have enjoyed considerable vogue, if we
may judge by the evidence afforded by other literatures,
especially by French, German, and Italian.
Nearly sixty years ago, W. Wackeruagel, in a brief article
published in the Zeitschrift fur deutsches Atterthum, vi (1848),
"TO BITE THE DUST." 201
288-9, under the caption Erde der Leib Christi, listed
instances of the custom as he found it recorded for French
literature in the Roman de Roncevaux, for German literature
in the Meier Helmbrecht, the Eckenlied, the Rabenschlacht, the
Wolfdietrich, and the Frauendienst, and for Italian literature
in one of the tales in the Pecorone. It was Wackeruagel's
idea that this custom, thus made clear for so large a part of
Europe, was a survival of an old pagan belief that the
Earth was made from the body of a giant god, a belief
which was now brought into relations with the Christian
doctrine of the Eucharist. Having stated this theory, he
put the query : "Are the expressions mordre la poudre or la
poussiere and ins Gras beiszen, both of which denote a violent
death, to be referred to this Christianized pagan custom ? " 1
The French and German expressions quoted by Wackernagel
are, of course, equivalent in force to the English saying, to
bite the dust (ground}.
Some seven or eight years after the appearance of Wacker-
nagel's article, his views were echoed by E. L. Rochholz in
the latter's Schweizersagen aus dem Aargau (Aargau, 1856,
vol. n, p. xlviii). " For the pagan," said Rochholz, " the
Earth was created from the flesh of a primordial divine
being ; it was the body of God, and the pagan, when
threatened by imminent death in battle or by murder, ate
bits of earth that he had picked up : herein is the origin
of the expression die Erde kussen, ins Gras beissen, mordre
la poudre, la poussiere." 2
1 "Sind die redensarten mordre la poudre oder la pouss&re und ins gras
beiszen, die beide einen gewaltsamen tod bezeichnen, auf diese heidnisch-
christliche sitte zuriickzuf iihren ? " For this and some other references I
am under obligations to Professor G. L. Kittredge.
1 "Dem Heiden ist die Erde aus dem Fleische eines gottlichen Urwesens
geschaffen, der Leib Gottes, er asz sogar die aufgegriffenen Erdbrosaraen,
wenn ihm durch Kampf oder Mord schnelles Sterben drohte ; daher stammt
der Ausdriick die Erde kiissen, ins Gras beiszen, mordre la poudre, la pous-
stere."
202 J. D. M. FORD.
Wackernagel's theory drew the attention also of J. W.
Wolf, who took it up in his Beiirdge zur deutschen Mytho-
hgie, n, 396. Predicating the mythological importance of
the Earth, Wolf says : "As the Earth was supposed to be
the flesh of the divine primordial giant, it was necessarily
holy, and we find almost the same beliefs attached to it as to
the other three elements." l He cites Wackernagel's instances
as showing the esteem of sanctity in which the Earth was
held, but to the query whether the expressions "mordre la
poudre," etc., may not refer to the Christianized pagan belief
he responds : " Possibly so ; but they may also refer to the
convulsive opening and shutting of the mouth with which
we meet in dying persons, and which we note particularly
on the battlefield in the death agony of men expiring as the
result of severe wounds." 2
With this last view of Wolf's, I. V. Zingerle agreed in an
article entitled "Ins Grras beiszen" (Germania, TV (1859),
in— 3). To his mind ins Gfras beiszen, mordre la poudre, etc.,
" have nothing to do with the Christianized pagan custom of
the Middle Ages, but signify the convulsive catching with
the mouth at the clod of earth or grass, as happens with
dying men on the battlefield. Both the thing and its signi-
fication," he continues, "we find in the ancient classics."3
1 " Da die erde als das fleisch des gottlichen urriesen gait . . . , musste
sie heilig sein und wir finden fast dieselben glauben an sie gekniipft, wie an
die andern drei elemente."
2 "Das ware moglich, es konnte aber auf das krampfhafte offnen und
schlieszen des mundes gehn, welches wir oft bei sterbenden finden, nament-
lich aber auf dem schlachtfeld im todeskampf der an schweren wunden
verscheidenden antreffen."
3 "Die obenerwahnten Ausdriicke haben auf den heidnisch-christlichen
Gebrauch des Mittelalters keinen Bezug, sondern bezeichnen das krampf-
hafte Erfassen der Scholle oder des Grases mit dem Munde, wie es bei
Sterbenden auf dem Schlachtfelde vorkommt. Die Sache und ihre Bezeich-
nung finden wir schon bei den alten Classikern."
"TO BITE THE DUST." 203
Zingerle proceeds to enumerate Greek and Latin examples of
the same sayings. Thus he mentions :
Iliad, n, 418.
<53A£ Xafo/aro yaiav
xi, 749 ; xix, 61 ; xxiv, 737.
XXII, 16.
yatav 68&£ el\ov
Euripides, Phoenissae, 1423.
yaTav <5S&£ i\6vret
Vergil, Aeneid, xi, 418.
Procubuit moriens, et humuin semel ore moraordit.
Ovid, Meta., rx, 60.
Turn denique tellus
Pressa genu nostro est ; et arenas ore momordi.
The situation as now outlined throws into relief two oppos-
ing views : the one, that the undoubted mediaeval custom of
taking earth (or grass or leaves) as a symbolical species of
communion was a survival of a pagan tradition and that the
sayings " mordre la poudre (poussi£re)," " ins Gras beiszen,"
etc., are related thereto ; the other, that the mediaeval custom
is in no way connected with these sayings, which, in point
of fact, merely describe the death agonies of a man and are
easily paralleled by Greek and Latin expressions denoting
the same thing. As the result of our examination, the second
of these views must seem the more plausible. At the same
time, it is probably true that the sayings, both ancient and
modern, are more metaphorical than realistic in their
bearing.1
1 That is, the ancient sayings started as descriptive of a real situation,
and then developed the purely metaphorical sense. Cf. J. H. J. Koeppen,
Erkldrende Anmerkungen zu Homers Ilias (Hannover, 1820), gloss to II. n,
418 : — " <J5A{ XafofaTo yaiav, dasz sie die Erde mit den Zahnen ergreifen
beiszen mochten. Die Alten fochten zwar mit gewaltiger Muth, dasz sie
aber beim Niederstiirzen in die Erde beiszen, kommt nicht davon allein :
es war natiirlich. So beiszt einer in die Lanze, Ilias, v, 75. Es gleicht
unserm ins Gras beiszen. In Homer ist diese alte Sprache schon zur poetischen
geworden," etc.
204 J. D. M. FORD.
Abandoning for the moment our discussion of the sayings,
whose history, it may be admitted, is not a little obscure, let
us confine our attention to some known records of the medi-
aeval custom. We have seen that, apart from the borrowed
instance in the Gran Conquista, the Spanish custom consisted
in partaking of earth. This is true of the German and
Italian cases, too, but, on the other hand, the many French
cases speak only of the eating of grass or leaves, except in
the very surprising instance in the chanson de geste Aliscans.
According to the poet of the Aliscans, Count William arrives
on the battlefield and finds his nephew Vivian lying there
apparently dead. The boy revives, however, and there
ensues the scene of his confession and communion described
in these verses of the Guessard and Montaiglon edition
( Anciens poetes de la France, Paris, 1870, pp. 25 ff.) :
" Nie"s, dist Guillaumes, dites moi verite"
Se tu avois pain benoi't use*
Au diemence, ke prestres eust sacre" ? "
Dist Viviens : " Je n'en ai pas goste"." . . .
A s' amosniere mist Guillaumes sa main,
Si en traist fors de son benoi't pain
Ki fu same's sor 1'autel Saint Germain.
Or dist Guillaumes : " Or te fai bien certain
De tes pecchie's vrai confer aparmain.
Je suis tes oncles, n'as ore plus prochain,
Fors Damedieu, le [verai soverain] ;
En lieu de Dieu serai ton capelain,
A cest bautesme vuel estre ton parin,
Plus vos serai ke oncles ne germain."
Dist Viviens : " Sire, molt ai grant fain
Ke vos mon cief tene"s dale's [vo] sain,
En 1'onour Dieu me dene's de cest pain,
Puis [me] morrai ore endroit aparmain." . . .
Dont se commence 1' enfes a confesser ;
Tot li gehi, n'i laissa ke conter . . .
"Nie's, dist Guillaumes, ne vous estuet douter."
A icest mot li fait le pain user,
En 1'onour Dieu en son cors avaler . .
"TO BITE THE DUST." 205
L'ame s'en va, n'i puet plus demorer.
En paradis le fist Diex hosteler,
Aveuc ses angles entrer et abiter.1
The Aliscans incident is extraordinary, if, as is thought
by Gautier,2 the pain benoit administered by William was
1 Cf. also Aliscans mil Berucksichtung von Wolframs von Escheribach Wille-
halm, kritisch herausgegeben von G. Rolin (Leipzig, 1894, vv. 839 ff. ).
2Cf. Gautier, La chevalerie, p. 807, s. v. Communion. " Dans le fascicule
IX de ses Etudes d'histoire et de bibliographic, Mgr. Haignere" conteste le sens
que nous avons attribue" au 'benoit pain — Ki fu saines sur 1'autel saint
Germain,' et avec lequel le comte Guillaume, sur le champ de bataille
d' Aliscans, fait faire la premiere communion a son neveu Vivien. [Cf.
Gautier's earlier pronouncement on this subject in his edition of the Clianson
de Roland, note to verse 2023: "Dans Aliscans la communion de Vivien
est re"ellement sacramentelle ; Guillaume, par un e"tonnant privilege, a
emporte avec lui une hostie consacr^e, et c'est avec cette hostie qu'il con-
sole et divinise les derniers instants de son neveu."] II s'agissait, suivant
nous, d'une communion vraiment eucharistique : mais Mgr. Haignerg n'est
pas de cet avis : ' Ce que Guillaume, dit-il, tire de son aum&ni£re et depose
sur les ISvres de Vivien de"ja blanchies par la mort, c'est tout simplement,
comme le trouvere le nomme a deux reprises, du pain be"nit.' Nous avons
d'abord estim6 qu'il y avait de graves preemptions en faveur de la these
de Mgr. Haignere" ; mais deux textes, 1'un du Covenans Vivien, 1'autre
d' Aliscans, semblent nous donner de'cide'ment raison. Dans le Covenans,
Vivien lui-meme s'e"crie au moment d' entrer dans la bataille : ' Mes a Deu
pri le Pere tot puissant — Que de cest siecle ne soie deviant — Q'aie par!6 a
Guillaume le franc, — De 1' saint cars Deu soie communiant' (v. 1565-68).
M£me precision dans Aliscans, et cela dans le re"cit du m6me Episode.
Quand Guillaume trouve Vivien mort, il s'e*crie : ' Las ! que ne ving tant
com il fu vivant. — De 1'pain que j'ai fu acomenianz, — De Vverai cars
Damledeu par covant.' (Aliscans, v. 804-806). — II convient d' observer
qu'alors meme qu'il s'agirait seulement de pain be*nit, 1'acte de Vivien
pourrait, sans trop d' inexactitude, etre appele" une premiere communion.
Les eulogies ou le pain be*nit e"taient entoure"es par nos peres d'un respect
aussi grand que 1'eucharistie elle-m6me, et Ton exigeait pour les recevoir
une disposition a peu pres analogue a celle qui est n^cessaire pour s'appro-
cher de la sainte communion' (Dictionnaire encyclopedique de la theologie
catholique de Wetzer et Welte, art. Eulogies}."
To a friend, the Rev. C. F. Aiken of the Catholic University of Washington,
I am indebted for the following additional information. " The passage in
Aliscans has doubtless reference to the ancient practice of administering
holy communion by pious laymen. In early times they were allowed to
206 J. D. M. FORD.
really the sacred Host of the eucharistic sacrament. It is
not unreasonable to suppose, however, that it was nothing
more than a eulogia, that is, a piece of bread blest by the
priest at the altar, but not consecrated as in the eucharist, so
that the doctrine of Transubstantiation does not apply to it,
and it may pass through lay hands. The eulogia is still
termed pain b£nit in French and the ceremony of blessing
and distributing it to the faithful may still be witnessed in
churches in France and a few other parts of Catholic
Christendom. It may have been mere poetic exaggeration
that prompted the author of the Aliscans in another verse
(806) to speak of the bread which William had with him as
the " verai cors Damledeu" the real body of the Lord God.
Yet the whole subject may be debatable. Of one point, not-
withstanding, there can be no doubt : the usual matter of
the communion is for the French epic poets grass or foliage,
take it to the absent ones at home, even to take it with them on long jour-
neys and voyages. Lay administering of communion was forbidden by
Hincmar in the Council of Paris in 829, also by Leo IV in the same
century. But as late as the 12th century the councils held at Home and at
London allowed pious laymen to administer communion in cases of urgent
need. See Corblett, Histoire du sacrement de V eucharistie, vol. I, p. 286."
For a further note on the persons duly empowered to administer com-
munion, see Addis and Arnold, A Catholic Dictionary (London, 1884), s. v.
Communion. Among other things it is there stated that ' ' In times of per-
secution, the faithful took the Blessed Sacrament away with them, so that
even women gave themselves communion at home (Tertullian, Ad Uxor.,
ii, 5). Ordinarily, the deacons conveyed the Holy Communion to the sick,
but sometimes even laymen did so (Euseb., H. E. vi, 44). Pius V, in
modern times, is said to have allowed Mary Queen of Scots to receive com-
munion from her own hands in prison (Billuart, De Euch. diss. VII, a. 3)."
See Cardinal Wiseman's novel of early Christian times, Fabiola, chapter
xxii of Part Second, in which even a young acolyte is described as carry-
ing the Viaticum to administer it to others : cf. Ibid, chapter xxxin, and
see also the Life of J. T. Venard, translated by Lady Herbert, for a recent
instance of lay transmission of the Eucharist. A modern reference to the
mediaeval symbolical communion is seen in J. H. Shorthouse's novel, Sir
Percival (cf. Dublin Review, 121, 80).
"TO BITE THE DUST."
the administration of which is usually preceded by a con-
fession made by the dying man to some layman present, just
as happens here in the case of Vivian.
With regard to confession as part of the ceremony Gautier
(La chevalerie, pp. 43 ff.) remarks : " On the eve of a battle
.... the knights went in eager quest of a priest. If they
did not find one, they accosted their nearest of kin, in the
thick of the fray, took him aside and confessed to him. In
default of a relative, a friend or companion in arms sufficed.
. . . History and legend agree in presenting to us the
spectacle of these confessions to a layman, the practice of
which persisted until quite late. Bayard, at the point
of death, humbly confesses to his steward 'for lack of a
priest' " (cf. Le loyal serviteur, ed. of the SoeietG, de I'histoire
de France, p. 418). What Gautier says is borne out by the
Old French epics and is corroborated by the Rev. Walter
Sylvester in an essay styled " The Communions, with Three
Blades of Grass, of the Knights-Errant" (in the Dublin
Review, vol. 121, 1897, pp. 94 ff.). This latter writer quotes
beside the example of Bayard another one taken from a
really historical account, namely, from de Joinville's Histoire
de Saint Louis (cf. ed. by de Wailly, Paris, 1874, p. 195),
and recalls the fact that, during the rage of the Black Death
in England (1348—9), the Bishop of Bath empowered lay-
men and even women to hear the confession of persons in
articulo mortis.1 The value of the lay confession commended
1Cf. also J. Dunlop, History of Prose Fiction (London, 1896, a new ed.
by H. Wilson), vol. I, p. 284, note, and The Tablet (London, 1886), vol.
xxxv of the New Series, p. 98 and p. 258. The second of these notes in
The Tablet is in the form of a letter from a correspondent in Jersey City
Heights, N. J. It cites on the subject the authority of St. Alphonsus and
of Benedict XIV, and appends this very recent example: "I remember
hearing from the late Bishop Lynch of Charleston of a Confederate officer
(a convert to the faith), who was mortally wounded in one of the battles
around Richmond, and confessed to a fellow soldier — who, by the way, was
208 J. D. M. FOED.
itself to two of the great theologians of the Middle Ages,
St. Thomas Aquinas and Peter Lombard, who enjoin it in
extreme cases, when a priest is not at hand ; cf. Summa S.
Thomae Aquinatis, Supp. in. Partis, Quaest. vin, art. 2, and
Petri Lombardi Sententiarum Libri IV (Lou vain, 1568), Lib.
iv, dist. 17, E. As Old French epic instances of confession
to a layman, Gautier mentions such typical cases as the two
in Raoul de Cambrai (ed. Le Glay), in which Bernier, about
to die, called Savari and confessed to him "because there
was not time enough to get a priest," and Aleaume confessed
his sins to two knights for a similar reason. Many other
records of such confessions might be given here, but for our
purpose it is sufficient to say that this unburthening of the
soul is an implied preliminary to the symbolical communion.
THE OLD FRENCH INSTANCES.
Let us pass in review the Old French epic examples of
communion by means of grass or foliage.1
In the Chanson d'Antioche (ed. P. Paris, 11, p. 235) Eainaus de Tor
partakes of three bits of grass :
De 1'erbe devant lui a-il trois peus rompus,
En I' oneur Dieu les use.
Raoul de Cambrai (ed. Le Glay, p. 95) : many take communion of three
bits of grass :
mains gentix horn s'i acumenia
De trois poux d'erbe, qu' autre prestre n'i a.
Ibid. (p. 327) : Savari, after hearing Bender's confession, administers
three leaves of a tree to him :
not even a Catholic — with injunction to repeat his confession to a priest,
saying that he did this because he felt a natural inclination to unburden
his mind and hoped for the grace of a perfect contrition. ' '
1On these examples cf. Gautier, La chevalerie (Paris, 1890), pp. 43 S. ;
Id., La Chanson de Roland (15th ed. ), note to v. 2023 ; Id., Les epopees
fran$aises (2nd ed.), tome in, p. 324; Eev. W. Sylvester, O. S. C., The
Communions, with Three Blades of Gross, of the Knights-Errant, in The Dublin
Review, vol. 121, pp. 80 ff.
"TO BITE THE DUST." 209
Trois fuelles d'arbre maintenant li rompi
Si les resul per corpus Domini.
Li romans de Garin le Loherain (ed. P. Paris, II, p. 240} : Begue de Belin,
about to die, communicates of three leaves of grass :
Trois foilles d'erbe a prins entre ses pie's ;
Si les conjure de la vertu del' ciel.
Por corpus Deu les recut volentiers,
£lie de Saint- Gilles (ed. G. Kaynaud, vv. 244-5) : Elie administers a leaf
of a tree to a dying knight :
Prist une fuelle d'erbe, zl la bouce li mist.
Dieu li fit aconnoistre et ses peci& jehir.
Les Chetifs (ed. C. Hippeau, n, p. 209) : a defeated Saracen, Murgale", abjure
his false religion, and receives baptism and communion of a bit of
grass divided into three parts from his Christian conqueror, Richard
de Chaumont, who, then, at his request, cute off his head :
Puis a pris .i. poll d'erbe et en .in. le parti.
Puis le bailla au Turc ; masca le et engloti.
Ibid. (p. 222) : Hernoul de Beauvais, at the approach of death, takes
communion of a bit of grass :
II a pris un poil d'erbe, si le prist a seignier,
En sa boche le mist, si le prist a mengier,
. ... el' non corpus Dei.
Renaus de Montauban (ed. H. Michelant, p. 181) : Richard calls upon his
companions to confess to each other and take communion of bite
of grass :
Car descendons £ terre et si nos confesson
Et des peus de cele herbe nos acommenion.
L'uns soit confes & 1'autre, quant prestre n'i avon,
Et die ses pechies par bone entencion.
Gaufrey (ed. Guessard et Chabaille, v. 573) : a badly wounded knight met
by Gaufrey took communion of three bits of grass :
Puis a pris .in. peus d' herbe pour aquemuneison.
Galien. Cf. Gautier, Les epopees fran$aises, 2nd ed., vol. ni, p. 324 f.,
where are cited two prose passages of the Galien story, relating the
death of Oliver, Galien' s father. Roland is made to give three bite
of grass to Oliver by way of communion.
The first passage reads : "Adonc troubla la veue a Olivier.
210 J. D. M. FORD.
Se print Roland troys brains d'erbe et la comincha (sic), et en
cette fasson 1'ame se departit d' Olivier."
The other says : "Adonc Olivier le (i. e., Galien) commanda
a Dieu,* et la veue luy alia troubler, et luy partit 1'ame du
corps. Et Roland print trois brins d'herbe et lacommenca"
(*ic).
Redactions of the Chanson de Roland :
Lyons redaction (cf. Gautier, Chanson de Roland, 18th ed., 1884,
p. 190, note ) : Roland gives three bits of grass to Oliver :
Trois poiz a pris de 1'erbe verdoiant.
Li ange Dieu i descendent a tant ;
L'arme de lui emportent en ch an tant.
Roman de Roncevavsc (laisse cxcv ; cf. La Chanson de Roland et le
Roman de Roncevavx, ed. F. Michel, p. 224) : Oliver, now dying,
takes three bits of grass :
iij peuls a prins de 1'erbe verdoiant,
En 1'onnor Deu les usa maintenant.
Floriant et Florete (ed. F. Michel, v. 345 f.): King Elyadus, having
received a death wound from his steward Maragoz, while out hunt-
ing, takes three bits of grass :
Puis a .iii. pois de 1'erbe pris,
Seigniez et en sa bouche mis
En lieu de Corpus Domini.
Gefirei Gaimar, Estorie des Engles (ed. T. Wright, p. 221 ) : King William
Rufus, mortally wounded while out hunting in the New Forest, is
made by one of his hunters to take some herbs with all their flowers :
Li reis chai,
Par quatre faiz s'est escriez,
Le corpus Domini ad demandez ;
Mes il ne fu ki li donast,
Loinz de muster ert en un wast.
Et nepurquant un veneur
Prist des herbes od tut la flur,
Un poi en fist al rei manger,
Issi le quidat acomenger.
En Deu est 90, e estre deit ;
II aveit pris pain beneit
Le dimaigne de devant,
Co li deit estre bon guarant.1
1Cf. Rev. W. Sylvester, The Dublin Review, vol. 121, p. 91 f. : "The
ordinary accounts of the Red King's burial in Winchester Cathedral state,
"TO BITE THE DUST." 211
Quite in accord with these Old French examples is one
in the Proven9al epic, Daurel et Seton (ed. P. Meyer, v.
426 f.) : Duke Beuve d'Antone in vain asks his assassin Gui
to give him communion of foliage :
E lo franx dux s'es vas lui regardatz,
E junh las mas : " Companh, si a vos platz,
Ab de la fuelha e vos me cumergas."
"PerDieu!" dit Guis, "de follk parlas!
More vos tost, per o trop o tarzas."
It is a significant fact that in the majority of the cases
mentioned, three bits of grass, or three- leaves of a tree con-
stitute the matter of the communion. In one of the cases
in Les Chetifs — precisely the incident on which the Spanish
example in the Gran Conquista must rest,1 — a single piece
of grass plucked by the administering knight is by him
expressly divided into three parts. The reason of the im-
as every one knows, that the body of the tyrant was ' buried as the corpse
of a wild beast, without funeral rites or weeping eyes' (S. R. Gardiner,
Student's History, i, 122, London, 1894). Gaimar, on the other hand,
speaks of the celebration of many masses and of an unusually stately
service. Professor Freeman refuses credence to the reported ceremonial in
his elaborate comparison of the contemporary narratives ; and it is, there-
fore, the more noteworthy that he raises not the slightest doubt as to the
veracity of the king's reception of symbolic communion. 'Such a strange
kind of figure,' he writes indeed, 'of the most solemn act of Christian
worship was not unknown ; ' and he recalls, in a note, a striking passage
from Dr. Lingard's description of the battle of Azincourt in 1415 : 'At the
same moment Sir Thomas Erpingham threw his warder into the air ; and
the men, falling on their knees, bit the ground, arose, shouted, and ran
towards the enemy. This singular custom (Dr. Lingard adds in a note)
had been introduced by the peasants of Flanders before the great victory
which they gained over the French cavalry at Courtray in 1302. A priest
stood in front of the army, holding the consecrated host in his hand ; and
each man, kneeling down, took a particle of earth in his mouth, as a sign
of his desire and an acknowledgment of his unworthiness, to receive the
sacrament' " (Dr. Lingard, History of England, 3d ed., vol. v, p. 27 ; E.
A. Freeman, The Reign of William Rufus, Oxford, 1882, vol. n, p. 331).
1 Cf. H. Pigeonneau, Le Cycle de la Croisade (Saint-Cloud, 1877), p. 249 ;
G. Paris, Romania, xvn, 525 ff.
212 J. D. M. FOED.
portance thus given to the number three is, doubtless, that
stated in the Gran Conquista : the priest usually divides the
host into three parts when consecrating God's body on the
altar, and the practice is piously imitated in the symbolical
communion. It is to be noted that in the Floriant et Florete
the communicant receives the three pieces of grass in lieu, of
the body of God, and that in the Raoul de Cambrai this
form of communion is resorted to because no priest is there.
Obviously, the Old French poets had clearly in mind the
symbolical or makeshift nature of the ceremony which they
thus described in their works.
Earth alone figured as the matter of the communion in
Spain, and we shall see that that same substance is the only
one employed in Germany and Italy. Why was grass or
foliage only used in the French cases ? One is tempted to
suppose that earth was used originally in France, too, and
that the other substances were substituted for it as being
more palatable. There is no evidence, however, upon which
to base such a supposition, and, besides, the relation between
earth and certain of its vegetable off-shoots is close enough
to warrant us in believing that a mythological or symbolical
sense could be as easily and naturally attached to the one as
to the other. A subject of no less interest is the determina-
tion of the antiquity of the custom in France. In this
connection all that we can safely do is to place it at least as
early as the middle of the 12th century, when Gaimar wrote
his quasi-historical work. The Chanson d'Antioche has been
appealed to as taking the custom back to the time of the first
Crusade, for that poem, concerned with the capture of
Antioch (1098), makes use of the three bits of grass.1 But,
while it is true that the Chanson d'Antioche contains much
sober history and fact, and is in many respects a contempo-
1Cf. The Dublin Renew, vol. 121, p. 92.
"TO BITE THE DUST." 213
rary document,1 it would be venturesome to say that its
record of the symbolical communion represents a fact that
occurred on Oriental territory at the end of the llth century;
for the work is not merely a rhymed chronicle, in the form
in which we have it, but shows in no slight degree the
workings of poetical fancy. It must be borne in mind
that the primitive form of the Chanson d'Antioche is lost,
and we possess it only in a redaction of the reign of Philippe
Auguste.1 So it is, therefore, that a theory of an Oriental
origin of the symbolical custom, and its transportation to
France during the time of the Crusades, — a theory which
one might possibly conceive — hardly finds support in the
Chanson d'Antioche. In France itself the oldest forms of
the epic as illustrated by the Chanson de Roland show no
acquaintance with the symbolical communion, but it already
appears in the Paris and Lyons manuscripts of one of the
two rhymed redactions of the Roland (i. e., the redactions
1Cf. G. Paris, La litteralure fran$aise au moyen dge (Paris, 1890, p. 49) :
apropos of the cycle of crusading poems, "ils n'avaient guere de la poesie
que la forme, au fond ils e'taient de 1'histoire. ... A cet element histori-
que s'est jointe, dans les poemes que nous avons, 1' invention pure et simple
des jongleurs francais." With regard to these same crusading epics, C.
Nyrop, Sioria deli' epopea francese (trans, by E. Gorra, Turin, 1888), p. 215,
remarks : "i piu antichi trattano di personaggi contemporanei e delle loro
azioni, e devonsi percid piuttosto considerare come una specie di cronache
rimate, le quali — dentro certi limiti — possono pretendere ad autoritd, storica.
Inoltre essi non sono usciti dal popolo, non si fondano sopra qualche tra-
dizione popolare, ma sono invece composti da poeti, che si tengono oltremodo
stretti agli avvenimenti. Questo vale pero soltanto per i due primi poemi,
"Antioche" e "Jerusalem," considerati perb netta loro forma piti antica,
perche piu tardi furono rimaneggiati e ampliati con 1'aggiunta di leggende
d'ogni maniera." It is precisely because we have not the primitive forms
of these poems that it is dangerous to draw any conclusion from them with
respect to such a question as that involved in the presence of the symboli-
cal communion in one of them. Yet the first Crusade antedates the custom.
*Cf. Nyrop, 1. c., p. 419; Gautier, Bibliographic des Chansons de geste
(Paris, 1897), p. 56 ; H. Pigeonneau, Le cycle de la Orousade (Saint-Cloud,
1877), p. 144.
2
214 J. D. M. FORD.
i
called the Roman de Roncevaux). If it be an original trait
of the common source of these two redactions, it is thereby
dated at least as early as the beginning of the last third of
the 12th century, the period to which, according to G. Paris,1
that common source belongs. But Gaidar's reference ante-
dates that.
THE GERMAN INSTANCES.
The German cases seem no older than the 13th century.
We may begin our consideration of them with the
Meier Helmbrecht (cf. H. Lambel, Erzdhlungen und Schwanke, 2nd ed.,
Leipzig, 1883, p. 130 ff. ) : Meier Helmbrecht, now blind, falls into
the hands of some woodchoppers, who prepare to hang him, in
accordance with his just deserts, but previously allow him to make
his confession, after which one of them gives him a bit of earth ' ' as
aid against Hell-fire : ' '
1902. si liezen in sine bihte
den miiedinc d6 sprechen.
einer begunde brechen
ein brosemen von der erden.
dem vil gar unwerden
gap er si z' einer stiuwer
fur daz hellefiuwer,
und hiengen in an einen bourn.
Eckenliet (Deutsches Heldenbuch, v, Berlin, 1870, p. 219 ft.): Ecke meets
with a sorely wounded man, Helferich von Lune, whom Dietrich
had stricken down along with three others. Helferich asks Ecke to
put some earth into his mouth for the salvation of his soul :
58. est umb min leben gar d& hin,
der tot hat mich ergangen.
g&nt mir der erde in minen munt
wan durch die gotes £re :
so wirt g£n gote mm s£le gesunt. . . .
durch got lant mich geruowen.
ich mac niht leben m£.
Rabenschlacht (Deutsches Heldenbuch, n, Berlin, 1866, p. 262) : Witege and
Diether (Dietrich) have been fighting and the former has given
1 Paris, La litteralure franfaise au moyen dge, 2nd ed., p. 61.
"TO BITE THE DUST." 215
Diether a fatal blow. Diether takes earth from the ground and puts
it into his mouth as our Lord's sacrifice :
457. Dem edeln kiinege werde ,
diu craft gar besleif.
nider zuo der erde
mit beiden handen er d6 greif
und b6t si zuo dem munde
zuo unsers herren opher sd ze stunde.
Wolfdietrich (cited by Wackernagel, Zeiischrift f. deutsches Alterthum, VI,
289 ; cf. Deutsches Heldenbuch, in, 299) : several take earth from the
ground and put it into their mouths as our Lord's sacrifice :
do griffen sy zw der erden zuo der selben stundt,
ze vnsers herren opfer namen sy dy erdjn den mundt.1
To these cases indicated by Wackernagel reference is also
made by H. Lambel in his edition of the Meier Helmbrecht,
p. 201, where he gives the following note : — " Die Erde
wurde im christlichen Mittelalter zum Symbol des Leibes
Christi. In einer Wiener Handschrift (N. 121, 9. Jahrh.)
der Origenes des Isidorus heiszt es in einer den Ausgaben
fehlenden Stelle, die mir mein Freund J. A. Schmidt nach-
wies, xiv (= xn der Ks. ; vgl. Endlicher CataL, I, 289), I, 3
(Schluss nach ventis; Bl. la fg.) ; terra enim my slice plures
significationes habet .... aliquando carnem domini salvatoris
significat. Daraus erklart sich der Glaube, dasz Sterbende,
denen kein Priester zur Seite steht, in eineni Kriimchen
Erde (auch Brot oder Gras, Ulrich von Liechtenstein,
Frauend. 544, I ; Garin mhd. Wb., I, 263), nachdem sie
entweder einem anwesenden Laien, wie hier [i. e., in the
Meier Helmbrecht] und in Wolfram's Wh. 65, 10; 69, n
(vgl. Reinaert 1439 fg., Reinke 1378 fg.), oder im Fall sie
ganz allein sind, Gott gebeichtet haben (Liechtenstein a. a. o.),
den Leichnam Christi empfangen konnen; vgl. Wolfd. B.
1 In the Deutsches Heldenbuch, in, 299, the lines read :
d6 griffen si zer erden an der selben stunt :
ze unsers herren opfer namens die erden in den munt .
216 J. D. M. FORD.
912, 3, 4 (D. H. B., in, 299), Rabenschl. 457, 3fg. (D. H.
B., n, 262); Eckenlied 58, 7 fg. (D. H. B., v, 229). Den
Glauben bestiitigt auch Berthold von Regensburg, aber
dagegen polemisierend 309, 9-16 (ed. Pfeiffer); vgl. Zeit-
schrift, vi, 288." If the Latin passage found in the Vienna
MS. of the Origines is itself of the 9th century, it certainly
provides very important testimony to the antiquity of the
custom of symbolizing the body of Christ by earth. The
two cases of lay confession, alluded to by Lambel, occur in
the beast epic ; the one in Willem's Dutch work Reinaert
(cf. ed. E. Martin, Paderborn, 1874, vv. 1433 ff.) and the
other in the Low German Reinke de Vos (ed. F. Prien, Halle,
1887, p. 54). In the Reinaert, the Fox, who is on his way
to the court to answer for his misdeeds, makes confession to
the Badger, because no priest is at hand :
1433. lieve neve ic wille gaen
(nu hoort mine redene saen)
te biechten hier tote di :
hier nes ander pape bi.
0
He begins his confession thus :
1451. confiteor pater mater,
dat ic den otter ende den cater
ende alien dieren hebbe mesdaen.
This has somewhat the aspect of a travesty, and as such
is, of course, in consonance with the rascally character of
Reynard. In general, however, the cases of lay confession
and lay communion are treated in mediaeval literature as
very serious matters. The situation in the Reinke de Vos
parallels that in the Reinaert.
Of the documents which Lambel mentions as containing
instances of lay communion, the Gar in and the WiUehalm
(Wolfram's version of the Aliscans, cf. the 4th ed. of
Wolfram von Escheubach's works by K. Lachmann, Berlin,
1879, p. 423 ff.) simply repeat the situation in their Old
"TO BITE THE DUST." 217
French originals. The case in Ulrich von Liechtenstein's
Frauendienst, mentioned by both Wackernagel and Lambel,
involves, seemingly, the use, not of earth, or of vegetable
matter, or of a consecrated host, but merely of bread found
on the spot. According to the ostensibly autobiographical
account, Ulrich has been enticed out of his stronghold by
his enemies, Pilgerin and Weinolt, who imprison him and
threaten him with death on the morrow. All night he
sorrows, and in the morning, believing death imminent,
he looks about for a piece of bread. He discovers a crumb
(br6sem), and this he consumes, as the body of him from
whom nothing is hidden, after first bewailing his sins ; cf.
Ulrich von Liechtenstein, herausgegeben von K. Lachmann
(Berlin, 1841), Vrouwen Dienest, p. 543 f. :
Die naht leit ich vil raichel n&t ....
S£ d6 der ander tac erschein,
d6 wart ich kiirzlich des enein,
sit daz ich miieste ligen tot,
daz ich versuoht ob iender br6t
laege da ich gevangen lac :
vil sere ich daz ze suochen pflac.
ein brdsem ich dd ligende vant :
die huob ich weinende fif zehant.
Da rait s6 kniet ich ftf diu knie
und klaget die minen siinde hie
dem den verheln mac niemen niht
und der in elliu herze si lit .
sin lichnam ich d6 weinent nam,
mit triwen, als mir daz gezam.
That in Germany the practice was really current among
the people in the 13th century is made clear by the way in
which the sturdy preacher, Berthold von Regensburg, assailed
it in some of his sermons (cf. Berthold von Regensburg. Vott-
standige Ausgabe seiner Predigtcn. von F. Pfeiffer : 2 vols.,
Vienna, 1862 and 1880). Thus he discourses in the sermon
on " The Seven Holy Things " ( Von den siben Heilikeiten,
218 J. D. M. FORD.
1. c., i, 303) : , " Then says some one or other in the open
field, when he is about to be hanged or otherwise deprived
of life, and has no chance of escape, then he says : 'Alas !
that I may receive our Lord, give me a crumb in my mouth,
or a bit of earth, if you have nothing else,' and he thinks
that he thereby receives God's body. No, not at all ! Bread
is bread, earth is earth, God's body is God's body. If he
eats a lot of bread or earth, he is only the heavier on the
gallows." Berthold repeats his attack in quite similar terms
in the sermon on " The Seven Medicines " ( Von den siben
erzenien, L c., II, 89).
It is to be observed that Berthold specifies only bread and
earth : he says nothing of grass or foliage ; and the strictly
Germanic cases which we have examined speak only of earth
(as they do in four instances) or of bread (as in one).1
Berthold, too, is the only cleric who seems ever to have
spoken out against a custom which the Church might
have been expected to view with much suspicion, if not
actually to condemn it. Lay administration of the most
august of sacraments — if in lay hands the ceremony could
continue to be called a sacramental one — would certainly call
for control by the ecclesiastical authorities. In point of fact,
the custom in question, being a purely symbolical one, did
not run counter to the doctrine of Transubstantiation, and
the rulers of the Church do not appear to have deemed it
an abuse calling for restriction. It is interesting here to
1 The use of bread in the lay form of communion probably savored in
general of mere superstition or of heresy. Cf. this reference to an heretical
use in Csesarius Heisterbacensis, Illustriwm Miraculorum et Historiarum Me-
morabilium Lib. XII (Cologne, 1599 : Liber Quintiis, De Daemonibus, ch.
xix, p. 347): "Nam quidam Abbas Hispanus ordinis nostri per nos
transiens, qui cum episcopo et ecclesiarum praelatis eiusdem heretic!
errores damnauit, eum dixisse referebat, quad guilibet in mensa sua, et de
pane suo quo vesceretur, conficere posset corpus Christi. Erat autem idem
maledictus faber ferrarius."
"TO BITE THE DUST." 219
quote the view of a modern ecclesiastic well acquainted with
the French mediaeval custom. " In barren waste or forest
path," says the Rev. W. Sylvester,1 " far from parish church
or abbey choir, the dying man turned to his need of the last
sacraments. Ministers were there none. Extreme unction
was impossible. There was no soft touch of holy oils. Yet
confession and spiritual communion were within the knight's
grasp and he seized them. God's appointed minister lack-
ing, the moribund confessed his sins in the squire's ear. . . .
Then followed the substitute for communion. Communion
with the Sacred Host could not be received, but spiritual
communion was possible. And, as we to-day, the dying
man spoke his prayer of belief, hope, adoration and love, ere
yielding up his soul. Still, with that quaint literalness
upholding so much of the real, intense faith of the Middle
Ages — to make, so to say, his communion more real to him-
self— the knight plucked three blades of grass and ate
them. It was no mere form. l Nothing,' as Mr. Lilly
says (Chapters in European History, i, 158, London, 1886),
' was a mere form in the Middle Ages.' It was no
vulgar superstition. 'The first fact about the age was its
faith, not its superstition' (Ibid., I, 172). The culling and
the consumption of the blades of grass was the simple, lov-
ing avowal of a believing soul, that, far from priest and
altar, it had done what it could."
THE ITALIAN EXAMPLES.
Three leading instances of the occurrence of symbolical
communion are on record in Italian literature, and, as in
Spain and Germany, earth is the species of the communion.
Wackernagel has already called attention to the case in Ser
1 The Dublin Review, 121, p. 82.
220 J. D. M. FORD.
Giovanni Florentine's Pecorone (c. 1378 ; cf. ed. of Milan,
1804, in the Classid italiani, I, 145-6). There, in the
Giornata settima, novella seconda, is recounted the fate of a
man put to death in the room in which he was captured.
Raising his hands to Heaven, he bent down, took earth, and
put it into his mouth :
"alzd le mani al cielo, e poi si chin6 e prese della terra e misela in bocca,
e poi si mise le mani agli occhi per non vedere la morte sua e chind il capo
alia terra."
The writer does not dwell upon the reason for taking the
earth, its symbolical significance ; but this was probably
clear to a reader of Ser Giovanni's time.
In the other two cases, the symbolical value of the pro-
cess is brought out distinctly. The first occurs in the
Morgante of Luigi Pulci ; the second is in a very realistic
document, the autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini, and
attests the survival of the belief — perhaps as a mere soldier's
superstition — as late as the 16th century.
The Morgante passage (Canto xxvii, stz. 147 ; for the
preliminary confession cf. stz. 116) pictures the death of
Roland in the pass of Roncesvalles. He has made his
confession to Archbishop Turpin, and it is this prelate who
bids him take earth as communion : l
147 (7) : E perche Iddio nel ciel ti benedica,
Piglia la terra, la tua madre antica.
148 ( 1 ) : Pero che Iddio Adam plasmoe di questa,
Si che e' ti basta per comuni'one.
We perceive that Turpin advances a reason why earth may
suffice for this symbolical communion, viz., "God made
Adam of this earth," i. e., the human race is itself of earth.
1 Cf. the instance in the Spanish Poema de Alfonso XI and that related
by Lingard.
"TO BITE THE DUST." 221
Roland follows the bidding of Turpin, and, partaking of the
earth, dies:
153 (6) : E li mil men to, la testa inclinata,
Prese la terra, come gli fu detto,
E 1'anima spird del casto petto.
Much of the matter treated in the Morgante is of ultimate
French origin, as is the case with the bulk of the chival-
rous, romantic matter found in Italy. We have seen that in
the Old French redaction of the Chanson de Roland and
in the Old French Gotten, Oliver takes three bits of grass
as communion before dying. If the Italian tradition in the
Morgante is at all connected therewith, why the change from
grass to earth ? * The attaching of the death ceremony to
Roland, rather than Oliver, is easily intelligible in the Italian
poem, in which Oliver is a subordinate figure.
The passage in the Vita di Benvenuto Cellini appertains to
the siege of Rome in 1527 (cf. ed. by O. Bacci, Florence,
1901, section xxxv). Cellini was among those defending
the Castel S. Angelo for Pope Clement, and one day he was
laid low by a portion of the wall which a cannon ball from
without caused to topple over upon him. Coming to his
senses, he started to speak, but could not, as he tells us,
" because some fools of soldiers had filled my mouth with
earth, thinking that thereby they had given me communion,
whereas they had rather excommunicated me, because I
could not recover myself, for this earth gave me much more
trouble than the shock of the blow " ( Volendo cominciare a
JThe Pseudo- Turpin has a Roland death-scene, of course, but one in
which there is no necessity for the symbolical communion. Cf. this
passage: "Orlando had that morning received the blessed Eucharist and
confessed his sins before he went to battle, this being the custom with all
the warriors at that time, for which purpose many bishops and monks
attended the army to give them absolution" (History of Charles the Great
and Orlando Ascribed to Archbishop Turpin translated from the Latin, etc. ,
London, 1812, I, 43-4).
222 J. D. M. FORD.
parlare, non potevo, perche certi sdocchi soldatelli mi avevano
pieno la bocca di terra, parendo loro con gudla di avermi dato
la comunione, con la quale loro pifo presto mi avevano scomuni-
cato, perche non mi potevo riavere, dandomi questa terra piu
noia assai che la percossa).
It is now meet to recur to the subject of possible relations
between the mediaeval custom and the modern sayings mordre
la poudre (poussiere), ins Gras beiszen, bite the dust (ground),
etc. It is surely a striking coincidence that dust (ground)
and grass should figure in these expressions, which in their
strong sense mean to die, and should figure, likewise, in the
symbolical form of communion which we have been investi-
gating, a ceremony to which resort was had only when death
seemed imminent. But in so far as our researches permit us
to pronounce a judgment, we can only say that the case is
one of pure coincidence. Certainly it seems well-nigh im-
possible to establish any direct connection between the
sayings and the custom. J. W. Wolf and Zingerle doubted
the connection, and Zingerle pointed out analogous sayings
in Greek and Latin, which, of course, antedate the mediaeval
custom, and, furthermore, seem themselves not to have had
any symbolical significance.
On the whole, it seems probable that to bite the dust,
mordre la poudre (poussiere), ins Gras beiszen, and kindred
expressions are of rather recent origin within the modern
languages, and arose through literary imitation of the Greek
and Latin use of similar terms.
For French, Littre" (Dictionnaire de la langue franqaise,
Paris, 1883) gives mordre la poudre, la pousstire, la terre as
meaning " e~tre tu6 dans un combat." He illustrates mordre
la terre by Corneille, Medee, rv, 3 :
"TO BITE THE DUST." 223
Dont la main ....
Met Ege*e en prison et son orgueil & has,
Et fait mordre la terre it ses meilleurs soldats.
Mordre la poudre by Racine, Thebaide, I, 3 :
J'ai fait mordre la poudre il ces audacieux.
Mordre la poussiere by Malherbe :
L' orgueil si qui tu fis mordre la poussiere de Coutras.
Mordre la poussiere by Voltaire, Henriade, vn :
Nesle, Clermont, d'Angenne out mordu la poussiere.
From Montaigne he quotes this example of mordre la terre :
"II faut leur faire baisser la tete et mordre la terre soubs
I' auctorite," which seems to signify submission to authority
simply, and not necessarily meeting with death. Moreover,
the Darmesteter, Hatzfeld and Thomas, Dictionnaire generate
de la langue francaise (Paris, 1890—1900) glosses mordre la
terre, la poussiere by " 6tre terrass6," and adduces therefore
the example from Corneille's Medee already quoted by Littre"
as implying the fatal outcome. There can be little doubt
that the idea of "being brought to the ground," "defeated,"
"humiliated" is as easily associated with the French expres-
sions as the stronger sense of " meeting death." It is likely
that the latter was the earlier force of the French expression,
and that the other sense represents a natural weakening of
it, or one brought about by the influence of such other
phrases as baiser la terre or lecher la poussiere. The first of
these is interpreted by LittrS as meaning "adorer et se
soumettre," and illustrated by passages from Athalie, Esther,
and Delille's Paradis perdu: the second, he says, is equiva-
lent to "s*humilier extr£mement" as used by Voltaire, Dial.,
xxiv, 14 : On a regarde en face I'idole devant laquette on
avail leche la poussiere.
Like phrases occur in the other Romance languages.
Thus the Spanish morder la tierra is explained by Tolhausen
224 J. D. M. FOBD.
(Nuevo Diccionario Espanol-alemdn, 1888-9) as signifying
"ins Gras beiszen, sterben, auf dem Platze bleiben," and
Zerolo (Diccionario enciclopedico de la lengua castettana,
Paris, 1900) glosses hacer morder la tierra (el polvo) d uno
with " rendirle, vencerle en la pelea, mat£ndole 6 derriban-
dole." It is to be remarked that Zerolo indicates by the
side of the stronger sense "to kill," the weaker one "to
overthrow."
For Portuguese, Vieira (Grande Diccionario Portuguez,
1871—4) quotes morder a terra, "succumbir em uma luta,
cair morto em batalha," and Michaelis (A New Dictionary of
the Portuguese and English Languages, Leipzig, 1893) has
morder a terra (a areia), " to bite the ground or dust, to lick
the dust, to die, to be killed." Whether the expressions are
old or new is not apparent from the Spanish and Portuguese
dictionaries; nor do the Italian dictionaries bring the fact
out clearly. Tommaseo (Dizionario della lingua italiana,
1869) gives far mordere la polvere, il terreno, "Stendere a
terra morto o quasi morto," and illustrates with a passage
from a translation of the ^Eneid, xi, 747 : Giacque morendo,
e colla bocca una volta morse la terra; and Petrocchi (Novo
Dizionario Universale della lingua italiana, Milan, 1903) has
Far morder la polvere, " Vincere, Abbatter il nemico : "
Morder la polvere (e poetic, la polve), " Esser vinti."
Before passing away from the Romance examples of the
sayings, we should note that French, which offers no instance
of the partaking of earth by way of communion, makes use
only of words for earth or dust (terre, poudre, poussiere) in
the metaphorical expressions.
For German, J. Grimm and W. Grimm (Deutsches Wdrter-
buch, Leipzig, 1854) give sub verbo "beiszen :" in das grasf
in (sic) die erde beiszen, "mordre la poussifcre, von menschen
gesagt, sterben miiszen, wie kraut, erde und staub oft einander
"TO BITE THE DUST." 225
vertreten." The earliest example that they quote is from
Opitz (of the first half of the 17th century) :
Solt ich, O Marspiter, ins gras gebissen haben ( " todt sein " ).
Beiszen die erde they attest by an example from Friedrich
Stolberg (latter part of the 18th century) :
Sinken nieder in staub und sterbend beiszen die erde.
The Grimms also list, s. v. erde and kduen (kauen) the phrase
die erde kauen, "sterben," but with no illustrations. There
is, to be sure, another German phrase of similar import, die
Erde kussen. To this the Grimms (s. v. kusseri) assign both
the strong sense of "meeting death" and the weaker one of
" falling wounded, whether so or not." They illustrate both
senses, but with nothing earlier than the 17th century. That
the translations of Homer and other ancient classics, such as
those made by Voss (1751-1826), have rendered "to bite
the dust" (den Staub knirschen, cf. Voss, Iliad, xix, 61)
and like phrases common in literary German since the 18th
century need hardly be said. But the rise of ins Gras beiszen
remains shrouded in darkness. It is apparently a popular
rather than a literary expression. Does it antedate all possi-
ble humanistic and classic influence?
Murray's New English Dictionary quotes, s. v. bite, To bite
the dust, ground, sand, etc., and these are glossed " to fall in
death, to die." The earliest instance cited is of 1771, and
occurs in Gray's Poems, Ode vin, " Soon a king shall bite
the ground." To bite the dust is illustrated from Bryant's
Iliad, i, ii, 55,
"May his fellow warriors
Fall round him to the earth and bite the dust."
S. v, dust, Murray records the weaker sense, " to fall to the
ground; especially to fall wounded or slain." Of course
the illustrations given by Murray are not the earliest ; they
226 J. D. M. FOED.
are later than the instances which we might quote from
Chapman's Homer, and Dryden's Vergil; cf., for example,
Dryden's Aeneid, xi, 527-8 :
The plains of Latium run with blood around,
So many valiant heroes bite the ground.
The Century Dictionary has to bite the dust or the ground,
"to fall, be thrown or struck down, be vanquished or
humbled," which brings out only the weaker force of the
terms : the Standard Dictionary cites bite the dust and bite the
ground with both the strong and the weak sense, "to fall
prostrate ; be vanquished or slain." The development from
a stronger to a weaker force might have been aided in
English, as we assumed it might have been in French, by
the existence of certain other phrases in which dust or
ground occurs. In this connection one thinks of the Bibli-
cal "to lick the dust" (cf. "lecher la poussiSre"), as found
in Psalms 72, 9, "and his enemies shall lick the dust;"
Isaiah 49, 23, "they shall lick up the dust of thy feet" (cf.
Vulgate " vultu in terram demisso odorabunt te, et pulverem
pedum tuorum lingent ") ; and in Micah 7, 1 7, " they shall
lick the dust like a serpent" (Vulgate "lingent pulverem
sicut serpentes "). The Isaiah passage is particularly clear
as to the weak sense for this phrase. Ground occurs in
phrases susceptible of a weak sense, such as to bring to the
ground (Murray, "to cast down, overthrow, overcome, sub-
due") or to come (go) to the ground (Murray, "to be overcome,
to perish ").
As we have assumed that the modern expressions started
as conscious echos of the terms used by writers of classic
antiquity, it may not be amiss here to examine some of the
classic Latin examples of the phrases.
Forcellini (Totius Latinitatis Lexicon, Prato, 1868), s. v.
mordeo, has the following note: <cmordere terram dicuntur,
"TO BITE THE DUST." 227
qui graviter icti, in faciem procumbunt morituri," and s. v.
mando: "Ut mordere humum sic et mandere dicuntur, qui
vulnere prostrati, proni moriuntur." To the cases quoted
by him, we add others here.
mordere humum : JEneid, XI, 418,
Procubuit moriens, et humum semel ore momordit.
mordere (h)arenas or arenam: Ovid, Meta., ix, 60-61,
Turn denique tellus
Pressa genu nostro est ; et arenas momordi.
Claudianus, 'De hello Qetico, 588 f. ,
Ille tamen mandante procul Stilichone citatis
Accelerant equis, Italamque momordit arenam.
In Artaud's Paris (1824) ed. of Claudianus, there is a note on this
passage which tallies with the idea of Wolf and Zingerle that the
expression to bite the dust, etc. , indicates the convulsive agonies of
death. The editor glosses Italamque momordit arenam with "in Italia
occisus momordit terrain," and continues: "id faciebant antiqui, ne
sibi morientibus ora prave contorta viderentur." He applies the same
explanation to JEneid, xi, 418.
mandere humum: JEneid, xi, 668 f.,
Sanguinis ille vomens rivos cadit, atque cruentam
Mandit humum, moriensque suo se in volnere versat.
mandere aequora : Valerius Flaccus, Argonauticon Libri, m, 106,
compressaque mandens
Aequora purpuream singultibus exspuit auram.
Cf. this note of the Paris ed. of 1824: "compressaque mandens
Aequora, campi glebas in quo jacebat mordens."
In all these cases the verb to bite or to eat is used with an
object noun denoting ground, sand, or surface of the earth
(humus, arena, aequor). Although the dictionaries speak of
a phrase mordere terram (cf. Forcellini, Harper's, etc.), no
illustration of it is given by them, and it has not come to
light in the present search.
No symbolical force seems to attach itself to the Latin
cases mentioned ; and the meaning of mordere humum, etc.,
228 J. D. M. FORD.
may be just what the glossator of the passage in Claudianus
said, viz., that the dying man clutches the ground with his
teeth as a means of hiding his facial contortions. Or, if we
do not care for this explanation based on the supposed stoical
nature of the soldier, we may adopt the general one, that the
dying man was writhing and contorting his mouth in the
agonies of death and biting at what was near him.
Instead of the verbs to bite, to eat (mordere, mandere),
there occur also the verbs to go to} to seek (petere, appetere),
to catch (apprendere), taking as their object a noun denoting
earth (terram, tellurem, arva). With such verbs the sense is
not necessarily that of meeting death :
petere terram : Seneca, (Edipus 480,
ore deiecto petiere terram.
The persons on the scene simply prostrate themselves as suppliants
at the feet of Bacchus.
Vergil, Mneid, in, 93,
Submissi petimus terram.
However, petere (appetere, apprendere') terram (tellurem, arva)
may have the strong sense, if accompanied by words involv-
ing the tragic outcome :
petere terram : Vergil, JEneid, ix, 489,
Et terram hostilem moriens petit ore cruento.
appetere tellurem : Silius Italicus, Punicorum liber quintus, 526-7,
Labitur infelix, atque appetit ore cruento
Tellurem exspirans.
Ibid., liber norms, 383 f.,
Volvitur ille ruens, atque arva hostilia morsu
Appetit, et mortis premit in tellure dolores.
apprendere tellurem : Ibid. , xvn, 264,
Ausoniam extremo tellurem apprendere morsu.
As these verbs are accompanied by morsu or ore, they are,
after all, equivalent to mordere; and, of course, they realize
in Latin the o8a| e\ov and similar Greek phrases.
"TO BITE THE DUST." 229
Petere terram without ore or morsu is seen in
Seneca : (Edipus 340,
terram vulnere afflict! petunt.
Here the tragic sense is conveyed by other modifiers.
Finally, we may cite an instance of tangere solum mento, in
Horace's Odea (Garmina, n, vii, 11-12), where the poet speaks of
the destruction of his brothers in arms at Philippi : —
Quum fracta virtus, et minaces
Turpe solum tetigere mento.
The solum tetigere of this passage has been likened to the
Homeric \d£o/j,ai yalav.
It must be obvious that the strong or tragic sense is the
usual one for these Latin phrases, although some of them
occasionally have a weaker force.
Now to recapitulate, at the risk of irksome iteration, we
may assert that the symbolical communion by means of
earth or grass (leaves) is referred to in the literatures of at
least four great lands, France, Germany, Italy and Spain.
Earth is used for the ceremony in Germany (apart from one
case of the employment of bread), in Italy, and in Spain ; in
France use is made of grass (leaves). Metaphorical expres-
sions involving the use of words for dust, earth, and ground
exist in French, Spanish, Italian and English ; in German
the customary — and apparently a popular — expression is ins
Gras beiszen, although die Erde kauen (kussen, etc.) is found
also. Thus the metaphorical expressions contain terms de-
noting the same objects that figure in the symbolical com-
munion ; geographically, however, the equivalence is not
exact, since German employs chiefly the word for grass in
the metaphor, and shows normally the word for earth in the
symbolical communion ; whereas France knows only grass
(leaves') for the symbolical communion and employs only
earth (dust, etc.) in the metaphor.
3
230 J. D. M. FORD.
Despite the concordance of the terms of the metaphor
and the elements of the symbolical communion, it seems
impossible to connect the modern expressions with the
mediaeval custom. It looks as though the expressions are
of relatively recent origin in the modern languages, and
came into being through literary imitation of phrases in the
Greek and Latin classics, for Greek and Latin used terms
signifying "to bite the ground, earth, or sand," generally
with the meaning "to meet death." There appears, never-
theless, to be no Greek or Latin analogue for the German
phrase, "ins Gras beiszen." This may have arisen as a
very natural term for describing a fact often witnessed, the
convulsive death agony of a wounded soldier, biting at
the object nearest him in the field, i. e., grass. It is as such
a descriptive term that the expressions in Greek and Latin
may have arisen.
There is a certain elasticity of sense possible in the modern
phrases to bite the dust, ground, etc. Perhaps their original
force was that which the ancient classical phrases appear to
have possessed as their primary one, viz., "meeting one's
death ; " the subsidiary sense, " to be brought to the ground,
to be overthrown, to be humiliated," may be a natural
weakening in metaphorical use or may be due to a contami-
nation with other phrases containing dust, ground, etc.
No attempt has been made here to determine whether in
the mediaeval symbolical communion by means of earth there
survived a pagan idea of the mythological importance of
earth. Pulci, in obedience to the introspective and rational-
izing spirit of the Renaissance, suggested an explanation,
which may or may not be original with him. God made
man of earth ; in lieu of God's body man can partake of
nothing better in the hour of his dire need. Man came
of mother Earth : after the last sad scene to mother Earth
he returns.
J. D. M. FORD.
V.— THE ROUND TABLE.
In the Arthurian romances the term Round Table is
employed in three significations. Most commonly it denotes
a brotherhood of knights ; very rarely — though of course
this is the primary meaning — it is used actually for the table
itself; and finally it designates a courtly festival celebrated
by Arthur on some great feast day, usually Pentecost. This
last meaning of the expression is the one with which the
present paper is especially concerned.
A few preliminary words, however, about the other two.
In Wace the knights of the Round Table are personal
attendants on King Arthur, permanently attached to his
service.1 Praised through all the world,2 they appear to be
sharply distinguished from those foreign warriors who had
been attracted to the court by its reputation for courtesy,
valor, and liberality.3 The main characteristic emphasized
by both Wace and Layamon is that the knights sat at the
Round Table in perfect equality and were served alike.4
Their numbers, in the later stories, vary ; sometimes there
are fifty,5 sometimes one hundred and fifty,6 and again two
hundred and fifty,7 while according to Layamon the table
could seat sixteen hundred.8 The original fifty were selected
1 Le Roman de Brut, par Le Roux de Lincy, Rouen, 1836 ; 1. 10558.
'Id., 9982, 13676.
8 Id., 9994, 10553, 13672 ; in Layamon the fight preceding the establish-
ment of the Round Table is by natives against foreigners, uncuthe kempen
( Layamon' s Brut, by Sir Frederic Madden, London, 1847, n, p. 534).
4 Wace, 10,000 seq. ; Layamon, n, 539-540.
5 Roman de Merlin, Sommer, London, 1894, p. 57 ; Huth Merlin, Paris et
Ulrich, Paris, 1886, I, p. 96.
6 Huth, n, 62. ' Roman, p. 152 et al. 8 P. 539.
231
232 LEWIS F. MOTT.
by Merlin ; l the forty-nine (leaving the vacant perilous seat)
added to the hundred sent to Arthur by Leodogran, were also
selected by Merlin, while their names were found miracu-
lously inscribed on their seats.2 Eight, to replace those
killed in battle, were added by Arthur on the advice of
Pellinore, and at the same time their names were mysteri-
ously substituted for those of the dead.3 This appearance
of the name was essential to a choice, and the new knight
must be better than the one he displaced.4 In the romances,
though there are occasional inconsistencies, the general atti-
tude of the fellowship is represented by Tristan who, on
becoming a member, swears to increase the honor of the
Round Table and never to fight against it, except in sport.5
To use Malory's words, " ony of hem will be loth to have
adoo with other." 6 This attitude suggests the wide-spread
primitive folk-custom of kinship through commensality.7
In the etymological sense of the word, they were companions
and, as brethren of one blood, they were "to support one
another in life and avenge one another's death." After the
first feast at the Round Table, they desire to remain together
permanently, for although many had not been acquainted
before, they now love one another as a son loves his father.8
They lived in peace like brothers german.9
According to one accoun^ the Table was made by Arthur,10
1 Roman, 57 ; Huth, i, 96. For the importance of this number among
the Celts, see J. Loth, Uannee, Celtique, Paris, 1904, p. 46.
2 Huth, ii, 65-67.
sld., n, 169-170.
4Loeseth, Tristan, Paris, 1890, p. 149.
6Loeseth, Tristan, p. 149, § 206.
6Sommer's edition, London, 1889, Bk. viii, ch. iv, p. 279.
7 Hartland, Legend of Perseus, London, 1894, n, 248 seq. and 277 seq.
8 Huth, i, 97 ; Roman, 57.
9 Huth, n, 67: ''Each spake with other as it were his brother. — Laya-
mon, 540.
10Wace, 9998.
THE ROUND TABLE. 233
or for Arthur, by a clever workman of Cornwall ; 1 accord-
ing to another, it was made by Merlin for Arthur's father,
Uther ; 2 in a third version, it was owned by Leodogran,
father of Guinevere, and given to Arthur on his marriage.3
Here we evidently have a rather clumsy attempt to reconcile
conflicting traditions and to group them around the central
figure, Arthur.4 It may at least be affirmed that three
Round Tables have survived in our tales ; how many others
have been lost to memory, we cannot even conjecture. In
Wace the purpose of the Round Table is to provide equally
honorable seats for the knights, each of whom thought him-
self the best. Layamon repeats this idea, prefacing his
account of the making of the Table with a narrative of a
bloody fight at one of Arthur's Christmas feasts in London.5
In the Merlin and Grail stories, we lose sight of this idea
of equality, and the Round Table has a religious significance,
which is not at all clear. It was to symbolize the Trinity,
as the third of a group of tables, the other two being that
of the Last Supper and a square one made by Joseph in the
desert to receive the Grail. It will bring to Uther great
benefit and honor and many marvels will be accomplished.6
No description of the Round Table is anywhere furnished,7
though Layamon says it was made of wood,8 and had the
marvelous property of seating sixteen hundred, yet being
easily carried wherever Arthur might ride. In Wolfram,
however, when the original is left at Nantes a new one is
1 Layamon, 538 seq.
2 Roman, 97 ; Huth, I, 96.
3 Huth, n, 62, and Introduction, I, pp. xxvi and xliii.
*Paulin Paris, Romans de la Table Ronde, u, 126.
6 Pp. 534 seq.
6 Roman, 55 ; Huth, I, 95 ; Hucher, Le Saint- Graal, I, 253.
7 Wolfram conceives it as a circle with a vacant space in the midst ;
Martin, Parzival, Halle, 1900-1903, st. 309 and 775 ; Hertz, Parzival, Stutt-
gart, 1898, p. 513, n. 127.
8 539-540.
234 LEWIS F. MOTT.
improvised by laying cloths on the grass.1 Two frequently
recurring features are not mentioned by Wace and Layamon ;
the names on the seats as a sign of election,2 and the vacant
seat or siege perilous, reserved for him who shall accomplish
the adventure of the Grail,3 and who shall terminate the
three marvelous adventures of the kingdom of Logres, an
achievement which will bring great joy and end Arthur's
grief.4 A knight who attempts to occupy this vacant
seat disappears like lead.5 In the Gerbert continuation of
Chretien's Perceval, we are told that a fairy had sent the
perilous seat to Arthur. Six knights who had sat in it, had
been swallowed up by the earth, but they reappear when
Perceval accomplishes the feat.6 On the whole, the charac-
teristics of the Round Table imply some mystical and
religious signification, a fact in thorough consonance with
the continual association of its heroes with magic, fairyland
and the other world.7
1 St. 309 seq. In the Roman de Merlin, also, though the Bound Table is
not mentioned, the equivalent festival is held in the fields, p. 437.
'Hath, n, 67 ; Tristan, §§ 206 and 377.
3 Roman, 57 seq. ; Huth, I, 96 seq.
*Huth, n, 66. 5 Reman, 60.
6 Nutt, Studies in the Legend of the Holy Grail, London, 1888, p. 23.
7 The Bound Table, which is still preserved at Winchester, is thus
described by Milner (History of Winchester, London, n. d., vol. n, p. 204) : —
' ' The chief curiosity in this ancient chapel, now termed the county hall, is
Arthur's Bound Table, as it is called. This hangs up at the east end of it
(in the nisi prius court) and consists of stout oak plank. . . . The figure
of King Arthur is painted on it, and also the names of his twenty-four
knights, as they have been collected from the romances of the 14th and
15th centuries. The costumes and characters here seen, are those of the
reign of Henry VIII, when this table appears to have been first painted ;
the style of which has been copied each time that it has since been painted
afresh. At the time we are speaking of, and even in the middle of the
15th century, this table was certainly believed to have been actually made
and placed in the castle by its supposed founder, the renowned British
Prince Arthur who lived in the early part of the 6th century. Hence it
was exhibited as Arthur's Table, by Henry VIII, to his illustrious guest
THE ROUND TABLE. 235
The Round Table was not used for ordinary meals, but
only on festive occasions.1 Indeed it gave its name to the
entertainment itself; we often read that Arthur held a Table
Round. Merlin instructed Uther to hold these feasts three
times each year,2 and we hear of such at Pentecost,3 at
Christmas,4 at All Saints,5 and at Mid- August.6 Pentecost,
it is well known, was the chief festal day of Arthur. Ii>
Wolfram's Parzival, Round Tables are held to celebrate any
happy event,7 but this is probably an invention of the poet.
In the Vulgate Merlin the vassals are ordered by Uther, after
the first festival, to attend all subsequent feasts without
further summons.8 The magnificence of these entertain-
ments, including such features as the bestowal of gifts and
the presence of jongleurs, may be simply a general charac-
teristic of mediaeval feasts ascribed by the poets to Arthur
on account of his mythic reputation as a dispenser of plenty.9
the Emperor Charles." See also vol. I, p. 246. This is probably the
object exhibited at Hunscrit at the marriage of Philip II to Queen Mary ;
Wace, n, note to pp. 166-7. Camden mentions it as hanging up at
Winchester, Britannia, London, 1695, col. 120. A picture of it is given
in Hone's Year Book, London, 1832, p. 81. With its rays proceeding out-
ward from the centre, it has all the appearance of a sun-symbol.
1 During the Middle Ages dining tables were brought in for meals and
removed afterwards (Schultz, Hof. Leben, I, 80, 432) and this custom is
presupposed in several of the Arthurian stories, where there are tables,
rather than one table.
2 Roman, 58. 3 Id. , 57. * Id. , 58. * Id. , 60. • Id. , 436.
7 When Arthur receives news from Gawain, he holds a Round Table ;
Parz., st. 654. 8 Roman, 40.
9 "La Table ronde est ici la reunion des vassaux, des hommes du roi, aux
quatre grandes fetes de l'anne"e, Noel, Paques, la Pentec&te et la Saint-
Jean ; et 1' intention manifesto des romanciers est encore ici de rapporter a
1'ancienne cour des rois bretons 1'origine de tous les usages auxquels se
conformaient les grands souverains du douzieme siecle, Louis VII, Philippe-
Auguste et Henry d' Angleterre. Tenir cour et tenir Table ronde e"tait alors
une meme chose, dont on voulait que le premier example remont&t au
prophete Merlin, et au roi Uter-Pendragon, comme aussi 1' usage de dis-
tribuer des livrees et de faire presents aux dames qui venaient embellir de
236 LEWIS F. MOTT.
Other traits are more clearly individual. All the companions,
as has been already said, have equally good food and drink l
as well as equally honorable places.2 While the fellowship
is composed exclusively of men, and the seats at the table
are only for members,3 ladies are required at these festivals4
and each lady must have her knight.5 Another peculiarity
was Arthur's custom to refrain from eating until he had
heard of some adventure.6 The duration of the feast, at its
foundation by Uther, is eight days, and the king will not sit
till he has served the knights,7 or till he has seen them
served.8 The Round Table banquet described by Wolfram
in the fifteenth book of Parzival has some further interesting
details. The Table is a cloth laid on the grass in the open
field, and it is measured off by moonlight.9 The knights
wear wreaths on their heads and every lady has her ami.10
leur presence ces grandes reunions. — P. Paris, Romans de la T. R., n, 64.
The truth of this statement should not blind us to the fact that there are
also folk elements in these stories.
1 Layamon, p. 539 seq.
2 Ib. and Wace, 9994 seq.
3 See above, concerning the names on the seats.
*Huth, I, 96 ; Roman, 56, 436 ; Lai du Cor (Wulff, Lund, 1888) open-
ing lines. In this last case, however, the presence of women is required
for the chastity test. The great feast given by Arthur on his coronation at
Pentecost, as it is described by Geoffrey, Bk. IX, ch. xii seq., in many
respects resembles a Round Table. Both sexes are present, though sepa-
rated for some ceremonies, and we have the religious exercises, banquet
and sports. For all these circumstances, compare the feast of Carman in
Ireland. &Parz., st. 216, 776.
6 See Hertz, Pan., p. 512, n. 125. ''Roman, 57. 8 Huth, i, 97.
9 St. 775. See Martin's note to 1. 21. The earlier banquet (st. 309) is
also in an open field :
man sprach ir reht uf bluomen velt :
dane irte stude noch gezelt.
" Chrestien sagt nichts davon," remarks Herz, Parz., p. 513, n. 127.
wParz., st, 776.
THE ROUND TABLE. 237
Preceding the festive meal, there is a procession and a dis-
play of horsemanship.1
Throughout the Middle Ages, certain knightly exercises,
distinguished by the chroniclers from ordinary tournaments,
continued to be called Round Tables. The popularity of the
Romances, the heroes of which became models of chivalry,
undoubtedly had a leading part in the establishment of these
imitations of Arthur's court,2 yet there may have been in
their origin also elements derived from folk custom. "At
this feast," says Schultz,3 " the knights assumed the names
of Arthur's heroes ; beyond this nothing is known of the
arrangements of the sport ; it must, however, have closely
resembled the tourney, though it was less dangerous, for it
was fought on horseback and with blunt lances. At any
rate ladies were present and a banquet played a leading
part." That such contests were nevertheless not entirely
devoid of peril is shown in an account by Matthew Paris
of one held at Winchester, wherein a distinguished knight
was slain.4 It is furthermore well known that Edward III
constructed at Windsor a building called the Round Table
and that he celebrated these feasts with great magnificence.6
1 Id., 777.
2 Tournaments are said to have been a late importation from France.
Du Cange, Glossarium, Paris, 1850, Diss. v, vol. vn, p. 24.
3 Das Hofisclw Leben zur Zeit der Minnesinger, 2nd ed., Leipzig, 1889, II,
p. 117.
4 A. D. 1252, "Anno quoque sub eodem milites angliae, ut exercitio mili-
tari peritiam suam et strenuitatem experirentur, constituerunt, non ut in
hastiludio, quod Torneamentum dicitur, sed potius in illo ludo militari,
qui Mensa Rotunda dicitur, vires suas attemptarent. Duo igitur milites
electissimi, Ernaldus scilicet de Munteinni et Eogerus de Leneburne, dum
se lanceis mutuo impeterent, Ernaldus letaliter vulneratus, praeceps cadens
obiit interfectus, qui in militari exercitio nulli in Anglia secundus cense-
batur." — Matthaei Parisiensis Historia Anglorum, Bolls Series, vol. in,
p. 124.
6 Sir Nicholas Harris Nicholas, Observations on the Institution of the most
noble Order of the Garter, Archceologia, xxxi ; see p. 104, for the feasts of
238 LEWIS F. MOTT.
Not only such tournaments, but also periodical gatherings
of bards were called Round Tables and, while the former,
as has just been said, are in all probability an offspring of
the literary influence of Arthurian romance, the latter are
by tradition directly connected with Arthur himself. It was
said that, under his protection, a chair of poetry was estab-
lished at Caerleon by the bard Maelgyn Hir and the system
of the Round Table instituted.1 Another tradition, the age
of which is not known,2 but which Zimmer calls " jiingere
Fabelei und Combination," 3 states that about 1077 Rhys ab
Tewdwr, who had been obliged to pass some time in Brittany,
brought back with him, on his return to Wales, the institu-
tion of the Round Table, which had there been forgotten,
and reestablished it for the bards as it had been at Caerleon
on Usk in the days of Arthur.4
In this sense the Round Table is obviously identical with
the Eisteddfod. And here we come to a very interesting
particular, derived from the manuscript of a writer who died
1344 and 1345 ; pp. 108-9, for the magnificence of the entertainments ;
p. 151, "domum quae rotunda tabula vocaretur," Walsingham ; ib., " Rex
Angliae Rotundam Tabulam ccc militum tenuit apud Wyndesoure, et
totidem dominarum, pro qu& excessivi sumptus facti sunt, Cotton MS. See
further Strutt, Sports and Pastimes, London, 1810, p. 128, who recognizes
that the Round Table is a joust rather than a tournament. An interesting
Round Table is cited by San Marte in a note to Geoffrey, p. 420 ( ad ann.
1284) : "Item convenerunt Comites, Barones, Milites de Regno Angliae,
ac etiam multi proceres transmarini, circa festum Beati Petri quod dicitur
ad vincula ad rotundam tabulam apud Neubin, juxta Snowdon, praeconiza-
tum, in choreis et hastiludicis adinvicem colludentibus, in signum triumph!
contra Wallensium proterviam expediti." See also Du Cange, Glossarium,
s. v. Tabula Rotunda. The examples include Spain, France, Germany and
the Netherlands, as well as England ; sufficient proof that these knightly
Round Tables were founded on the Romances, and not vice versa.
1 F. Walther, Das alte Wales, Bonn, 1859, p. 272.
2 Loth, Mabinogion, I, p. 17.
3 Qott. gel. Am., 1890, p. 796, note.
4 Loth and Zimmer, loc. cit., and Das Alte Wales, p. 267.
THE ROUND TABLE. 239
in 1616. It concerns "the gorsedd or court under the
authority of which the Eisteddfod is held as a sort of
session, as its name indicates, for letters and music. The
gorsedd is held hi the open air, a circle of stones being
formed, with a stone bigger than the others in the middle ;
the proceedings are opened with prayer by the presiding
druid as he is called; afterwards he goes on to admit to
degrees the candidates recommended by persons technically
competent to do so. When all the business is over, the
company goes in a procession to the building fixed for hold-
ing the Eisteddfod, which it is necessary to have announced
at a gorsedd held a year at least previously. As regards the
gorsedd itself, the rule is ' that it be held in a conspicuous
place within sight and hearing of the country and the lord
in authority, and that it be face to face with the sun and the
eye of light, as there is no power to hold a gorsedd under
cover or at night, but only where and as long as the sun is
visible in the heavens.' " l Can there be the slightest doubt
that we have here a remnant of some primitive pagan rite?
The ceremony of placing the stones in a circle suggests
a connection with the roundness of Arthur's Table. " It
1 Ilhys, Lectures on the Origin and Growth of Religion as illustrated by Celtic
Heathendom, London, 1898, pp. 208-9. The Century Dictionary derives
Eisteddfod from two Welsh words meaning sitting and circle. For the circle
of stones within which a gorsedd is held, see Cambrian Journal, 1855, p.
155, and 1857, pp. 8 seq. On p. 100 (1857), it is stated that the stones or
turf of the circle are used as chairs ; also that there may be four such meet-
ings in a year, at Christmas, Easter, Whitsuntide and St. John's Festival.
On p. 310 of the same volume occurs the following account : "A meeting
of the Gorsedd was held last Alban Elved on the hill of Bryn Castell y
Brenhin, near St. Bride's Major, in Glamorgan, where an appropriate
circle of stones had been constructed for the occasion by the joint labor of
several of the inhabitants." To this spot the company marched in pro-
cession ; certain persons entered the bardic enclosure where the introductory
ceremonies prescribed by ancient usage were held. The president ascended
the Maen Arch and took his station in the "eye of light," or the radial
representation of the Divine Name, etc.
240 LEWIS F. MOTT.
would be interesting to understand the signification of the
term Round Table," says Rhys.1 "On the whole it is the
table, probably, and not its roundness that is the fact to
which to call attention, as it possibly means that Arthur's
court was the first early court where those present sat at a
table at all in Britain. No such a thing as a common table
figures at Conchobar's court or any other described in the
old legends of Ireland, and the same applies, we believe, to
those of the old Norsemen." However intently we fix our
attention on the table, we must still remember the prevailing
tendency of the Celts toward circular edifices. The old
Irish houses were round,2 as were also the ordinary Welsh
houses,3 and the Brochs of Scotland.4 The palace of the
Ulster kings near Deny is a circular building of uncemented
stones,5 and the only structure at Tara not 'round or oval
was the banqueting hall.6 It would, indeed, be practically
impossible to enumerate the stone circles and oval or circular
mounds scattered over Great Britain, Ireland, and parts of
the continent, and described by travelers and archaeologists.
While roundness is not exclusively a Celtic feature, it is
thoroughly characteristic. By the populace, such mounds
1 Studies in the Arthurian Legend, Oxford, 1891, p. 9.
2 P. W. Joyce, A Social History of Ancient Ireland, New York, 1903, n,
p. 20 ; D'Arbois de Jubainville, Litterature Celtique, I, 197.
3 Rhys and Brynmore Jones, The Welsh People, New York, 1900, p. 200.
* Joseph Anderson, Scotland in Pagan Times, Edinburgh, 1883, ch. IV.
See p. 206, "The circular wall .... is a characteristic feature of Celtic
construction."
5 Joyce, Social Hist., n, 37.
6 Id. , 85. Tradition assigns a circular feasting place to one of the early
Irish kings. "On montre encore aujourd'hui, sur la montagne de Tara,
1' emplacement de la forteresse ou rath de Loe"gaire". C'est une enceinte
circulaire forme'e par deux rangs de fosse's concentriques, avec rejet de terre
en dedans. Le roi d'Irlande se fit enterrer pres de 1&, en me"moire des bons
festins qu'il y avait faits avec ses fiddles vassaux," Litt. Celtique, i, 180.
Moreover, the origin of the rath is ascribed to the mythical Nemed., id.,
n, 90.
THE ROUND TABLE. 241
and stone circles are in Great Britain frequently connected
with the name of Arthur. It is true that other objects also
bear his name, as Arthur's Grave, Chair, Cups and Saucers,
Bed, Oven, Seat, Hill, Fountain, Camp ; l and monuments
are also connected with other popular names, such as Robin
Hood 2 and Fingal,3 but Arthur is the most general favorite,
and he is especially associated with what are called Round
Tables.
The following examples may be cited : — " On an eminence
adjoining the park of Mocras Court, in Brecknockshire, is a
large and peculiar kind of British cromlech, called Arthur's
Table. And at the once famous city, now the decayed village
of Caerleon upon Usk, — the Isca Silurum of Antoninus,
where the second Augustan Legion was, during a long
period, in garrison, — are the remains of a Roman Amphi-
theatre, in a bank of earth heaped up in an oval form
sixteen feet high, and now called Arthur's Round Table." 4
Between Castle Gary and Yeovil, there is a hill, encircled
by four trenches and walls, containing about twenty acres
full of ruins, which is by antique report one of the places of
Arthur's Round Table.5 " Near Denbigh ' there is, in the
1R. T. Glennie, Arthurian Localities, Edinburgh, 1869; Chalmer's Cale-
donia, London, 1810, I, 244, note m. There are also the Great and Little
Arthur among the Scilly Isles, interesting for their barrows. The earliest
known reference to an Arthurian locality dates from the year 1113 in
Cornwall, " ubi ostenderunt nobis cathedram et furnum illius famosi
secundum fabulas Britannorum regis Arturi ipsamque terram ejusdem
Arturi esse dicebant." — Zimmer, Zs.filrfranz. Sprache undLitt., xni, 109.
2E. g., Robin Hood's Pennystone. "It is fathered upon Robin Hood,
because that noted outlaw was much in these parts, and the country people
here attribute everything of the marvelous to him, as in Cornwall they do
to King Arthur." — Archceologia, n, 362. It is interesting to note that
Robin Hood became Lord, and Maid Marian Lady, of the May. Strutt,
Sports and Pastimes, 312.
3 Circles in Buteshire, New Statistical Account of Scotland, V, 52.
4 R. T. Glennie, Arthurian Localities, p. 9.
6 Id., p. 10, citing Selden's note on Dray ton' s Poly-Olbion, Works, n, 724.
242 LEWIS F. MOTT.
Paroch of Llansannan in the Side of a stony Hille, a Place
wher there be 24 Holes or Places in a Eoundel for Men to
sitte in, but sum lesse, and sum bigger, cutte oute of the
mayne Rok by Mannes Hand ; and there Children and
Young Men cumming to seke their Catelle use to sitte and
play. Sum caulle it the Rounde Table. Kiddes use ther
communely to play and skip from sete to Sete' (Leland,
Itinerary, v, pp. 62, 63). The remains of what would
appear to have been a Roman Camp overlooking Redwharf
Bay, or Traeth Coch, in Anglesea, is locally called Burdd
Arthur, or Arthur's Round Table." * On a mountain called
Keon bryn in Gower, "there is a vast un wrought stone
(probably about twenty ton weight) supported by six or
seven others that are not above four foot high, and these are
set in a circle, some on end and some edge wise, or sidelong,
to bear the great one up .... the common people call it
Arthur's stone." 2 There are also Gwaly Vilast or Bwrdh
Arthur in Lhan Boudy parish, " a rude stone about ten yards
in circumference, and above three foot thick, supported by
four pillars, which are about two foot thick; and Buarth
Arthur or Meinen Gwjr, on a mountain near Kil y maen
Ihwjd, a circular stone monument."3 In Meiriouydhshire,
" about two miles from Harlech there's a remarkable monu-
ment call'd Koeten Arthur. It's a large stone-Table some-
what of an oval form, but rude and ill-shaped." 4 We pass to
Westmoreland. "A little before the Loder joins the Emot,
it passes by a large round entrenchment, with a plain piece
of ground in the middle, and a passage into it on either side.
... It goes by the name of King Arthur's Round Table ;
1 Artk. Loc., 7, 8.
2 Camden's Britannia, newly translated into English with large additions
and improvements, Edmund Gibson, London, 1695, col. 620.
3 Id., 628.
4/d, 661.
THE ROUND TABLE. 243
and 'tis possible enough that it might be a Justing-place. . . .
However, that it was never designed for a place of strength,
appears from the trenches being on the in-side. Near this,
is another great Fort of Stones, heap'd up in form of a
horse-shoe, and opening towards it; call'd by some King
Arthur's Castle, and by others Mayburgh (or as vulgarly
Maybrough) which probably is but a modern name." x At
Stirling there is still another Round Table of Arthur. It is
mentioned in Barbour's Bruce, in Sir David Lindsay's
Complaynt of the Papingo,2 and in William of Worcester's
Itinerary,3 but it is now called the King's Knot. " Within
the space formerly occupied by the royal gardens, is a very
remarkable piece of antiquity, known by the name of the
King's Knot, consisting of a central mound in the form of a
table, surrounded at the distance of a few feet by another in
the form of a bench, of nearly equal height, and again at a
greater distance by a kind of low esplanade, and this once
more by what appear to have been canals or ditches." 4
1 Camden, 817-818 ; see also Arth. Loc., 74. Scott mentions this place in
the Bridal of Triermain, Canto I, § VII, and note. Murray's Guide (1869)
describes Mayborough as " a circular enclosure, about 100 yards in diameter,
formed by a broad ridge of rounded stones, heaped up to a height of 16
feet." In the centre is a large roughly hewn stone. Note the connection
of Arthur's Round Table with May.
2 Bruce, ed. John Jamieson, Glasgow, 1869, Book ix, 1. 559 :
' 'And be newth the castell went thai sone,
Eycht by the Round Table away."
In a note, p. 438, are printed Lyndsay's lines :
"Adieu, fair Snowdoun, with thy towris hie,
Thy chapell royal, park, and tabill round ;
May, June, and July, would I dwell in the."
3 Rex Arthurus custodiebat le round table in castro de Styrlyng aliter
Snowdon West Castle. Skene, Four Ancient Books, I, 57.
4 New Stat. Acct., vm, 406 ; Arth. Loc., 42. Arthur's Oven is also at this
spot; New Stat. Acct., vm, 357, and Camden, 921 : Camden speaks of "a
confus'd appearance of a little antient city .... (the common people) call
it Camelot."
244 LEWIS F. MOTT.
It is a notable fact that not one of the objects thus
commonly known as Arthur's Round Table could possibly
have been used as a banqueting board, nor do they often
resemble a table at all. In some cases it may be admitted
that the holding of a Round Table Tournament could have
given its name to a place ; but, on the other hand, in these
particular spots no such tournaments are known to have
taken place, in some none could have taken place, while at
the castles at which these sports were actually held, there
are no Round Tables known to the peasantry. Much allow-
ance may also be made for the exaggeration of popular
fancy, yet it is difficult to understand how a big stone, a
mound, a wall, and a druidical circle, should each and all
have suggested a Round Table. Some other explanation
appears to be necessary.
A hint is furnished by the fact that, in the Merlin
Romance, the erection of the circle at Stonehenge by Uther
as a monument to his dead brother and to the others who
fell in the battle of Salisbury, immediately precedes the
founding of the Round Table.1 In Geoffrey the erection of
this Giants' Dance is ascribed to Aurelius, though Uther is
the one who, with Merlin's assistance, brings the stones from
Ireland.2 When they are ready, Aurelius summons all the
people at Pentecost to celebrate the erection of the sepulchral
monument with great joy and honor.3 The feast is regally
held for four days, and on this occasion Aurelius crowns
himself, fills all vacant positions, and rewards his followers
with gifts, all of which circumstances are exactly reproduced
in Arthur's great feast at Pentecost described further on.4
While many circles and mounds were sepulchral, it is
highly probable that they were also used for religious rites
1 Koman, 53 ; Huth, 92. 2Bk. vm, ch. xse?.
8/d, ch. xii. *Id., Bk. ix, ch. xn.
THE ROUND TABLE. 245
and other popular gatherings.1 There is, indeed, a curious
connection between the abodes of the dead and the festivities
of the folk. The great stated assemblies of the Irish took
place at well known pagan cemeteries,2 and in England,
even late in the Middle Ages, fairs were held in church-
yards, till the scandal of it drove them to less sacred spots.3
It is certain that local tradition and nomenclature frequently
point out these sepulchral monuments as places of assembly
and of worship.4 At some of them, indeed, ceremonials of
ancient origin have, till quite recently, continued to be held.
Brnile Souvestre writes : 5 " C'Stait encore le temps des
anciens usages ; tous les jeunes gens et toutes les jeunes
filles, non mariSs, depuis seize ans jusqu'S, trente, se renuis-
saient ce jour-la sur une lande, pr£s d'une vitte de Korigans,6
pour danser librement loin des yeux de leurs parents. Les
jeunes filles portaient £ leurs justins du lin en fleurs, et les
jeunes gar£ons a leurs chapeaux, des epis verts. Au moment
d'entrer en danse, chaque arnoureux prenait son amoureuse
par le main, il la conduisait au grand dolmen, tous deux y
1 Forbes Leslie, Early Races of Scotland, Edinburgh, 1866, ch. V and ch.
IX ; James Fraser, Transac. Inverness Scientif. Soc. and Field Club, vol. n,
1880-83, p. 379.
1 Joyce, Social Hist., n, 434.
3 Hampson, Medii Aevi Kalendarium, i, 355.
*Jour. Anthropol. Inst., vol. 30, pp. 61-69 ; Archteologia, XXI, 450, "The
Kirk," a circle; New Stat. Acct., m, 61, Tumulus, by tradition the site of
a pagan altar: the road leading to it is called the Haxalgate, Haxa mean-
ing high-priestess, id., 451, at Morebottle and Mow, a circle named the
Trysting Stones, and another the Tryst. Chalmer's Caledonia, i, 81, Beton
Hill, a tumulus in Dumfriesshire ; Archceologia, xxii, 410, "In the High-
lands clachan signifies both a circle of stones and a place of worship." See
also Rhys, Celtic Heathendom, 194-5, remarks on the circular shrine to
Apollo in the island of the Hyperboreans with the harping and chanting
of the citizens in honor of the Sun-god ; and p. 204, on sacred mounds.
5 Le Foyer Breton, Paris, 1864, n, 25-26. In a note, it is stated that
this usage still exists in the mountains of Cornouailles and in Vannes.
6 A druidical circle.
4
246 LEWIS F. MOTT.
dSposaient fleurs et 6pis, et ils 6taient stirs de les retrouver
aussi frais a 1'heure du depart s'ils avaient 6t6 fideles."
In the Pyrenees near Bielle, at a large stone circle, there
are great festivities in the month of May among the
peasantry, who dance and amuse themselves under the trees.1
At St. Weonards in Herefordshire, the platform of a round
tumulus was the usual scene of village f£tes, the spot
generally chosen for morris-dancing, and a poplar tree stand-
ing in the middle was used as the village May pole.2 On
Whiteborough (a large tumulus with a fosse round it) on
St. Stephen's Down, near Launcestou, in Cornwall, there
was formerly a great bonfire on Midsummer Eve, round
which parties of wrestlers contended for small prizes.3 At
the Kirk, a circle in Scotland, " upon the afternoon of every
Easter Monday, the lord of the manor of Kirkby resorted
to the circle, where all his tenants met him, and games of
wrestling, dancing, hurling, and leaping ensued." The last
lord who attended broke his thigh in one of the games, and
from that time it was discontinued.4 Further examples
of rites at stone circles on Beltane day are recorded in
Jamieson's Scottish Dictionary.5 Enough has probably been
presented to establish a connection between these ancient
relics and certain popular agricultural festivals.
If, then, Arthur were a patron of agriculture, and if his
Round Table were originally one of these festivals, we could
readily understand how so many circles and mounds came to
be known by his name. They were the spots at which
rustic Round Tables were held.
To find this great monarch of romance the central figure
1 Archceolog. Journ. , xx VII, 225 seq. , Megalithic Remains in the Department
of the Basses-Pyrenees.
2 Wright, The Celt, the Roman, and the Saxon, London, 1875, p. 89.
3 Brand, Popular Antiquities, London, 1853, I, 318.
4 Archceologia, xxxi, 450. Note the apparent equality of lord and tenants.
6 S. v. Beltane, see also Frazer, Golden Bough, rn, 262.
THE ROUND TABLE. 247
of a group of farmers and herdsmen should occasion no
surprise. It is the habit of aetiological myths to take on
the form of heroic adventures.1 Even in the brilliant court,
developed by the later writers, we are occasionally startled
by some trace of primitive barbarism or of the struggle of
uncivilized man for subsistence. Poetic lovers hardly like
to think of Tristan caring for his uncle's pigs. Yet the
more authentic the tale, the nearer we get to the corn-field,
the pasture, and the forest. Pagan Britain was a savage
land. " In the centuries with which we are dealing," says
Rhys, speaking of early historic times, " Wales presented a
physical aspect very different from that which it does to-day.
The greater part was waste land on which the foot of man
rarely trod, mere boulder-strewn moorland, or boggy tract.
. . . The social and domestic life of the Welsh centred
round the timber-built houses of the kings, princes, lords or
uchelwyr which were scattered in the valleys and on the
lower slopes of the hillg." 2 At every such centre would
naturally be held the May, Mid-summer and autumn festivals
universal among primitive peoples. There may have been
in very early times a priest-king to perform the sacred rites,3
and just as at Rome this priest-king took the place of the
individual farm-owner,4 so here the separate agricultural
festivals might readily have been merged into a single
general one.
However this may be, the May gatherings of Arthurian
legend are, as Zimmer has pointed out, founded upon the
general customs of Celtic antiquity.5 At Conchobar's feasts
thirty heroes were assembled, and women were also present,
1 See, for example, Mannhardt, Myth. Forsch., p. 12 seq. For agricultural
stories becoming romantic, Nutt, Fairy Mythology of Shakespeare, London,
1900.
2 Welsh People, p. 247. » Frazer,. Golden Bough, I, 7.
4 Mannhardt, Myth. Forsch., 195-6. 6 Gott. gel. Am., 1890, p. 518.
248 LEWIS F. MOTT.
as was usual at such gatherings. During the year there
were in ancient Ireland three great public festivals : on
May 1st (beltene) annually at Tara; at Midsummer (August
1st) annually at Tailtin, and every three years at Carman
and at Cruachan ; and at the end of summer, from three
days before to three days after November 1st, at Emain.
The court of the prince was the centre to which the heroes
came and from which many of the adventures of the old
heroic tales took their start.1
The fair at Carman included races and sports, law-mak-
ing, music, story-telling, and the exchange of merchandise,
as well as feasting and religious exercises. In origin it is
evidently agricultural, the legend being that it was held in
honor of Carman, whose magic charms had blighted the land
of the Tuatha De Danaan, and who lay buried under a
mound upon the plain. " Corn and milk (were promised)
to them for holding it, and that the sway of no province in
Erin should be upon them, and brave kingly heroes with
them, and prosperity in every household, and every fruit in
great abundance, and plentiful supplies from their waters.
And failure and early grayness of their young kings, if they
did not hold it." 2
2 O' Curry, Manners and Customs of the Ancient Irish, m, 529. There is
also a mortuary significance :
Twenty one raths of enduring fame,
In which hosts are under earth confined :
A conspicuous cemetery of high renown,
By the side of delightful noble Carman.
Seven mounds without touching each other,
Where the dead have often been lamented ;
Seven plains, sacred without a house,
For the funeral games of Carman.
See also the account of these festivities in Joyce, Social Hist., n, 434 seq.,
and Rhys, Celtic Heathendom, 409 seq. The importance of keeping "early
grayness" from their young kings is fully explained in Frazer's Golden
Bough, Killing the God, II, 5 seq.
THE ROUND TABLE. 249
In many of his characteristics Arthur is distinctly con-
nected with agriculture.1 Myths of the sun, of dawn, day
and night, of summer and winter, seem to be vaguely
intermingled with the adventures of his knights. He is,
in Wolfram's phrase, the May man,2 and his Round Table
is properly held at Pentecost, which is identical according to
the old style with May day or Beltane.3 This fact is signifi-
cant. We know that aetiological myths have been invented
to explain customs which have ceased to be understood and
that this process has been noted particularly in connection
with agricultural ceremonial.4 Under favorable circum-
stances, the primitive rites of the ancient Celts, dimly
surviving in the tradition of a warlike age, must have
originated just such explanations. We are led, therefore, to
seek for the features of the Round Table in the mass of
folk custom concerned with May day festivities.
We may begin with the general description given by
Stubbs in his Anatomic of Abuses of a jollification that took
place "against Maie-day, Whitsunday, or some other time
of the year : " " They have twentie or fourtie yoke of oxen,
every oxe havying a sweete nosegaie of flowers tyed on the
tippe of his homes, and these oxen draw home this Maie
poole (this stinckyng idoll rather), which is covered all over
with flowers and hearbes, bounde rounde aboute with stringes,
from the top to the bottome, and somtyme painted with
variable colours, with twoo or three hundred men, women
and children folio wyng it with great devotion. And thus
beyng reared up, with handkerchiefes and flagges streamyng
on the toppe, they strawe the grounde aboute, binde greene
1 Rhys, Arth. Leg. , ch. n.
2 "Artus der meienbaere man," st. 281, 1. 16.
8 See New Eng. Diet, and Jamieson's Scottish Diet., s. v. Beltane.
4 Mannhardt, Wald- und Feidkulte, Berlin, 1877, p. 229 seq. ; Frazer,
Golden Bough, treatment of myths of Adonis, Dionysus, Attis, etc.
250 LEWIS F. MOTT.
boughes about it, sett up sommer haules, bowers, and arbours,
hard by it. And then fall they to banquet and feast, to leap
and daunce aboute it, as the heathen people did at the dedi-
cation of their idolles, whereof this is a perfect patterne, or
rather the thyng itself." 1 That such festivities were held
all over Europe is a fact so well known that it is useless to
exemplify them further or to dwell upon the character of the
ceremonial. Certain features from Celtic Britain, however,
bring us very close to the fragmentary records preserved in
the Romances concerning Arthur's Round Table.
I quote from Frazer : 2 "In the central Highlands of
Scotland bonfires, known as the Beltane fires, were formerly
kindled with great ceremony on the first of May, and the
traces of human sacrifices at them were particularly clear
and unequivocal. The custom of lighting the bonfires lasted
in many places far into the eighteenth century, and the
descriptions of the ceremony by writers of that period
present such a curious and interesting picture of primitive
heathendom surviving in our own country that I will repro-
duce them in the words of their authors. The fullest of
the descriptions, so far as I know, is the one bequeathed to
us by John Ramsay, laird of Ochtertyre, near Stirling, the
patron of Burns and the friend of Sir Walter Scott. From
his voluminous manuscripts, written in the last quarter of
the eighteenth century, a selection has been published in
recent years. The following account of Beltane is extracted
from a chapter dealing with Highland superstitions. Ramsay
says : ' But the most considerable of the Druidical festivals
is that of Beltane or May-day, which was lately observed in
some parts of the Highlands with extraordinary ceremonies.
Of later years it is chiefly attended to by young people,
persons advanced in years considering it as inconsistent with
Grazer, O. Bn I, 203 ; Strutt, Sports and Pastimes, 310.
JG. J5.,m, 259-261.
THE ROUND TABLE. 251
their gravity to give it any countenance. Yet a number of
circumstances relative to it may be collected from tradition,
or the conversation of very old people, who witnessed this
feast in their youth, when the ancient rites were better
observed.
' This festival is called in Gaelic Beal-tene — i. e., the fire
of Bel. . . . Like the other public worship of the Druids,
the Beltane feast seems to have been performed on hills or
eminences. They thought it degrading to him whose temple
is the universe to suppose that he would dwell in any house
made with hands. Their sacrifices were therefore offered in
the open air, frequently upon the tops of hills, where they
were presented with the grandest views of nature, and were
nearest the seat of warmth and order. And, according to
tradition, such was the manner of celebrating this festival in
the Highlands within the last hundred years. But since the
decline of superstition, it has been celebrated by the people
of each hamlet on some hill or rising ground around which
their cattle were pasturing. Thither the young folks repaired
in the morning and cut a trench, on the summit of which a
seat of turf was formed for the company. And in the middle
a pile of wood or other fuel was placed, which of old they
kindled with tein-eigin — i. e., forced fire or need fire. . . .
'After kindling the bonfire with the tein-eigin the company
prepared their victuals. And as soon as they had finished
their meal they amused themselves a while in singing and
dancing round the fire. Towards the close of the entertain-
ment, the person who officiated as master of the feast
produced a large cake baked with eggs and scalloped round
the edge, called am bonnach beal-tine — i. e., the Beltane cake.
It was divided into a number of pieces, and distributed in
great form to the company. There was one particular piece
which whoever got was called cailleach beaMine — i. e., the
Beltane carline, a term of great reproach. Upon his being
252 LEWIS F. MOTT.
known, part of the company laid hold of him and made a
show of putting him into the fire ; but the majority inter-
posing, he was rescued. And in some places they laid him
flat on the ground, making as if they would quarter him.
Afterwards, he was pelted with egg-shells, and retained the
odious appellation during the whole year. And while the
feast was fresh in people's memory, they affected to speak
of the cailleach beoL-tine as dead.' ';
From the parish of Anstruther, Wester, the following is
reported : — " On the 1st of May, O. S. a festival called
Beltan is annually held here. It is chiefly celebrated by the
cow-herds, who assemble by scores in the fields, to dress a
dinner for themselves, of boiled milk and eggs. These
dishes they eat with a sort of cakes baked for the occasion,
and having small lumps in the form of nipples raised all
over the surface." * To return to Frazer : — " In the northern
part of Wales, that other great Celtic region of Britain, it
used to be customary for every family to make a great
bonfire called Coel Coeth on Hallowe'en. The fire was
kindled on the most conspicuous spot near the house ; and
when it had nearly gone out every one threw into the ashes
a white stone, which he had first marked. Then having
said their prayers round the fire, they went to bed. Next
morning, as soon as they were up, they came to search out
the stones, and if any one of them was found to be missing,
they had a notion that the person who threw it would die
before he saw another Hallowe'en. A writer on Wales says
' that the autumnal fire is still kindled in North Wales, being
on the eve of the first day of November, and is attended by
many ceremonies ; such as running through the fire and
smoke, each casting a stone into the fire, and all running off
at the conclusion to escape from the black short-tailed sow.
Sinclair, Stat. Acct., v, 84.
THE ROUND TABLE. 253
. . . On the following morning the stones are searched for
in the fire, and if any be missing, they betide ill to those
who threw them in.' According to Professor Rhys, the
habit of celebrating Hallowe'en by lighting bonfires on
the hills is perhaps not yet extinct in Wales, and men still
living can remember how the people who assisted at the
bonfires would wait till the last spark was out and then
would suddenly take to their heels, shouting at the top of
their voices, ' The cropped black sow seize the hindmost ! '
The saying, as Professor Rhys justly remarks, implies that
originally one of the company became a victim in dead
earnest. . . . We can now understand why in Lower Brittany
every person throws a pebble into the midsummer bon-fire.
Doubtless here, as in Wales and the Highlands of Scotland,
omens of life and death have at one time or other been
drawn from the position and state of the pebbles on the
morning of All Saints' Day. The custom, thus found among
three separate branches of the Celtic stock, probably dates
from a period before their dispersion, or at least from a time
when alien races had not yet driven home the wedges of
separation between them." l
Again : — " Far more important in Scotland, however,
than the midsummer fires were the bonfires kindled on
Allhallow Even or Hallowe'en, that is on the thirty-first
of October, the day preceding All Saints' or Allhallows'
Day. . . . Like the Beltane fires on the first of May, they
seem to have prevailed most commonly in the Perthshire
Highlands. On the evening of Hallowe'en 'the young
people of every hamlet assembled upon some eminence near
the houses. There they made a bonfire of ferns or other
fuel, cut the same day, which from the feast was called
Samh-nag or Savnag, a fire of rest and pleasure. Around it
1 Golden Sough, in, 295-297.
254 LEWIS F. MOTT.
was placed a circle of stones, one for each person of the
families to whom they belonged. And when it grew dark
the bonfire was kindled, at which a loud shout was set up.
Then each person taking a torch of ferns or sticks in his
hand, ran round the fire exulting ; and sometimes they went
into the adjacent fields, where, if there was another com-
pany, they visited the bonfire, taunting the others if inferior
in any respect to themselves. After the fire was burned out
they returned home, where a feast was prepared, and the
remainder of the evening was spent in mirth and diversions
of various kinds. Next morning they repaired betimes to
the bonfire, where the situation of the stones was examined
with much attention. If any of them were misplaced, or if
the print of a foot could be discerned near any particular
stone, it was imagined that the person for whom it was set
would not live out the year. Of late years this is less
attended to, but about the beginning of the present century
it was regarded as a sure prediction. The Hallowe'en fire
is still kept up in some parts of the Low Country ; but on
the western coast and in the isles it is never kindled, though
the night is spent in merriment and entertainments.' ';
From Callander, Perthshire, the Rev. James Robertson
reports a similar custom on All Saints' Even : " They set
up bonfires in every village. When the bonfire is consumed,
the ashes are carefully collected in the form of a circle.
There is a stone put in, near the circumference, for every
person of the several families interested in the bonfire ; and
whatever stone is moved out of its place, or injured before
the next morning, the person represented by the stone is
devoted or fey; and is supposed not to live twelve months
from that day." 2
1 Golden Sough, m, 293-4, quoting John Ramsay.
2 Sinclair, Slat. Acct., xi, 621 ; also Golden Sough, in, 294.
THE ROUND TABLE. 255
In this case we have a circle of stones, each stone repre-
senting a person who takes part in the ceremony. Can we
not equate this circumstance with the fact that the name of
every Round Table knight appears on the seat provided
for him ?
A still closer parallel from Callender remains to be cited.
" The people of this district have two customs, which are
fast wearing out, not only here, but all over the Highlands,
and therefore ought to be taken notice of, while they remain.
Upon the first of May, which is called Bel-tan or Bal-tem
day, all the boys in a township or hamlet, meet on the
moors. They cut a table in the green sod, of a round
figure, by casting a trench in the ground, of such circum-
ference as to hold the whole company. They kindle a fire,
and dress a repast of eggs and milk in the consistence of a
custard. They knead a cake of oatmeal which is toasted at
the embers against a stone. After the custard is eaten up,
they divide the cake into so many portions, as similar as
possible to one another in size and shape, as there are
persons in the company. They daub one of these portions
all over with charcoal, until it is perfectly black. They put
all the bits of cake into a bonnet. Every one, blindfolded,
draws out a portion. He who holds the bonnet is entitled
to the last bit. Whoever draws the black bit is the devoted
person who is to be sacrificed to Baal, whose favour they
mean to implore, in rendering the year productive of the
sustenance of man and beast. There is little doubt of these
inhuman sacrifices having been once offered in this country,
as well as in the east, although they now pass from the act
of sacrificing, and only compel the devoted person to leap
three times through the flames ; with which the ceremonies
of this festival are closed." l
Sinclair, Stat. Acct., xi, 620; also Golden Bough, in, 262; Brand, I,
224-5.
256 LEWIS F. MOTT.
Here at last we have for the repast an actual round table.
It is crude and primitive, it is true, but the analogy of
classic fable leads us to look for just such an object. From
a hint of this sort the aetiological fancy passes readily to
the splendid out-door feast on the meadow which Wolfram
records. .
We found that the establishment of the Round Table had
a rather unintelligible Christian religious significance. This
is exactly what we should expect if the account dealt with
an original heathen ceremonial. There are many parallels
in the legends of saints invented to explain local customs
and in the adaptation of primitive rites to churchly uses.
In harmony with this view is the close connection of the
Round Table with the Grail, in which, whatever its source,
a plenty talisman may easily be discerned.1 Moreover,
according to Wolfram, the Table was measured by moon-
light on the grass, a circumstance which suggests some
magical significance. While Wace ascribes the establishment
of it to Arthur, the Merlin versions ascribe this to Uther,
in whom we recognize, according to Rhys,2 one of the names
of the God of the Underworld, a region the divinities of
which are very generally connected with agricultural observ-
ances. Leodogran, too, though we know little about him,
may well have had, as the father of Guinevere, a mythological
import. That Arthur, on a high feastday, refrains from
eating until he has heard of some adventure, is possibly
connected with primitive rites.3 But, above all, the fact
that Uther serves the knights before himself eating, is hard
to explain unless it be a reminiscence of the ceremonial
action of the priest-king who has taken the place of the
1 Hertz, Pan., pp. 430-432. For heathen customs transformed into
Christian, see Grimm, Teutonic Mythology, tr. Stallybrass, London, 1883-
1900, i, 11 : 64 ; n, xxxiv seq.
*Arth. Legend, p. 9. s Hertz, Parz., 512, n. 125.
THE ROUND TABLE. 257
original head of the family,1 while the partakers of the common
ritual meal form a brotherhood with all the ties of blood
relationship.
The presence of women is also in accord with the usages
of agricultural festivals. Indeed, the absolute necessity that
each should be accompanied by her knight recalls a feature
of sympathetic magic frequently indicated by worn-down
survivals.2 The wreathed heads, the procession,3 the games,
and the songs of the jongleurs, are all paralleled in the
May day festivities. Even the magnificence of Arthur's
entertainments is a natural growth from the idea of that
plenty for the obtaining of which these rites were held, rites
which would end the king's grief and procure for him
mysterious benefits and joys.4 The three usual occasions
1 A parallel custom is preserved by Appian, BeU. Mithr., 66 ; "Mithra-
dates offered sacrifice to Zeus Stratius on a lofty pile of wood on a high hill
according to the fashion of his country, which is as follows. First the
kings themselves carry wood to the heap. Then they make a smaller pile
encircling the other one, on which (the larger one) they pour milk, honey,
wine, oil, and various kinds of incense. A banquet is spread on the ground
for those present, in the same manner as was the custom at Pasargada in
the solemn sacrifices of the Persian kings." See Folk-Lore, xv, 3, p. 306.
2 The intercourse of the sexes has often been resorted to as a sympathetic
charm to promote the growth of the crops, Golden Bough, n, 204-209.
For the relation of the marriage of the May pair to vegetation, see Mann-
hardt, Baumkultus, ch. V. Mock marriage on May day, Golden Bough, m,
240. Marriages were a special feature of the fair at Tailltenn, Joyce,
Social Hist., II, 439. This notion will perhaps explain the men's refusal
to come to Fx>chaid Airem's feast at Tara on the ground that he had no
wife, and no man came to Tara without a wife. — Rhys, Studies in Arth.
Leg., p. 24 ; Zimmer, Gott. gel. Anz., 1890, p. 519.
3 Only in Wolfram.
4 See p. 234, above. The object of agricultural rites, as Mannhardt and
Frazer have shown, was to ward off evils and to procure benefits. A curious
expression of this idea of plenty is found in Layamon, p. 544 ; Merlin
prophesied that ' ' a king should come of Uther Pendragon, that gleemen
should make a board of this king's breast, and thereto sit poets very good
and eat their will, ere they should thence go, and wine-draughts outdraw
from this king's tongue, and drink and revel day and night ; this game
should last them to the world's end."
258 LEWIS P. MOTT.
for the holding of Round Tables are to be identified with
the folk festivals of May, Midsummer, and November,
common among Celtic, as well as other peoples. That they
recurred with perfect regularity is indicated by Uther's rule
commanding the vassals to attend without further summons.
Even the duration of the feasts, either four or eight days, is
repeated in the Irish fairs and the Welsh Eisteddfodau.1
The names of the knights on the seats suggests a comparison
with the circles of stones representing the participants in
Scotch and Welsh ceremonies, and the siege perilous, which
destroys its occupant until the Grail hero shall achieve the
adventure, may be explained as a survival of the original
human sacrifice which we find preserved to the present day
under such a variety of forms in the peasant observances
of Europe.2
There is, it is true, no mention of a fire at Arthur's
Round Table, a feature present universally in beltane festi-
vals. But, as the ancient practices were transformed to fit
them for representation in terms of courtly manners, it is
difficult to see how this element could have been retained.
San-Marte perceives in the fires of the giant of Mt. St.
Michael,3 and in that of Kai and Bedwyr on the summit
of Plinlimmon,4 a hint of the druidical practice.5 A more
definite hint is perhaps conveyed by the monuments bearing
the name of Arthur's Oven, at least one of which we know
1 Possibly this was originally four or eight nights, the Celtic half week
or week.
2 For the mock human sacrifice substituted for a real one, see Golden
Bough, n, 67 seq.
8 Geoffrey, Bk. x, ch. iii. 4 Kilhwch and Olwen in Mabinogion.
5 " Es scheint auf druidischen Feuerdienst zu deuten, dessen Andenken
jedoch im Miirchen schon verwischt und verblichen 1st." Beitraqe zur
bretonischen und celtisch-gei-manischen Hddensage, Quedlingen, 1847, p. 65. Is
it too fanciful to imagine that the attempted burning of Guinevere, of Iseut,
and of Lunet might have originated in an ancient sacrifice by fire ?
THE ROUND TABLE. 259
to have been thus called as early as the year 1113.1 It is,
however, perfectly legitimate to presume that such a feature
as this might readily vanish from an Arthurian tradition
which has preserved so few fragments of information con-
cerning the Round Table feasts.
A more important objection to the theory presented in this
paper is the distinct statement of Wace that the Round
Table was established for the express purpose of preventing
quarrels for precedence among Arthur's knights, each of
whom thought himself the best, and Layamon's repetition
of this statement, coupled with a circumstantial account of a
bloody fight at a banquet, the very fight which furnished
the reason for the construction of a table of this form.
Fights on such occasions were, as Dr. Brown has shown,2
not infrequent in Celtic antiquity, and Layamon's story is in
all probability based on a Welsh folk-tale. The importance
assigned to rank and the pains taken to arrange banqueters
in the proper order were, moreover, notably characteristic
of both Irish and Welsh custom. Each detail of position
at table and right to certain portions of food is provided for
in the ancient laws.3 A deviation from such custom would,
therefore, undoubtedly make an extraordinary impression,
which would naturally be preserved in legend.
Yet, we are tempted to ask, how could a round table
secure equality in greater degree than one of any other
shape. Proximity to the royal seat would in this case
indicate degree of honor just as fully as at a long table.
On this point we are fortunately not left to mere hypothesis.
The actual fact is established for us on the evidence of
1 Zs. f. franz. Spr. und Litt., xm, p. 109.
3 The Round Table before Wace, Harvard Studies and Notes in Philology and
Literature, voL vn.
3 Joyce, Social Hist., u, 105; Rhys and Brynmor- Jones, Welsh People,
201.
260 LEWIS F. MOTT.
Posidonius : l — " The Celtae place food before their guests,
putting grass for their seats, and they serve it upon wooden
tables raised a very little above the ground. . . . But when
many of them sup together, they all sit in a circle ; and the
bravest sits in the middle, like the coryphaeus of a chorus ;
because he is superior to the rest either in his military skill,
or in birth, or in riches : and the man who gives the enter-
tainment sits next to him • and then on each side the rest
of the guests sit in regular order, according as each is
eminent or distinguished for anything." In this case there
is a Round Table of warriors, closely resembling Arthur's
feasts, yet each is tenaciously observant of the rights belong-
ing to his rank.
Wace's statement, however, is definite, and could hardly
have been his own invention. On the other hand, experi-
ence teaches us to be suspicious of explanations provided
to account for customs the real origin of which has been
forgotten. This equality predicated by Wace is particularly
open to question, and Layamon's folk-tale, which bears on
the face of it the appearance of having been added for
aetiological purposes, may originally have had no connection
whatever with the Round Table.2 In the Arthurian stories
there is no consistent evidence of such equality, and the very
strictness of the rules of precedence at Celtic courts makes it
impossible that any body of real vassals could have stood
permanently in such a relation to one another. But, as we
have seen, the Round Table feasts were not of every day
occurrence ; they were ceremonial functions and, according
to the theory advanced, they were agricultural festivals.
Now this very feature of inversion of ranks, the social
1 Athenaeus, Deipnosophists, translated by C. D. Yonge, London, 1854,
vol. i, p. 245, Bk. iv, ch. 36. The passing of the wine deisiol suggests that
the feast here described may have been ceremonial.
2 See quotation from Ten Brink, Round Table before Wace, p. 190, n. 3.
THE BOUND TABLE. 261
equality for a brief period of masters with their servants, or
even slaves, is found in many rustic celebrations.
Every one will recall at once the Saturnalia at Rome.
"The distinction between the free and the servile classes
was temporarily abolished. The slave might rail at his
master, intoxicate himself like his betters, sit down at table
with them, and not even a word of reproof would be
administered to him for conduct which at any other season
might have been punished with stripes, imprisonment, or
death. Nay, more, masters actually changed places with
their slaves and waited on them at table ; and not till the
serf had done eating and drinking was the board cleared
and dinner set for his master." Precisely this trait appears
in Uther's refusal to eat until he has served the knights of
his Round Table.
The same custom prevailed in Great Britain. It is thus
described by Robert Bloomfield : 2 —
' ' Now, ere sweet Summer bids its long adieu,
And winds blow keen where late the blossom grew,
The bustling day and jovial night must come,
The long accustomed feast of harvest-home ....
Behold the sound oak table's massy frame
Beside the kitchen floor ! nor careful dame
And generous host invite their friends around,
For all that clear" d the crop, or till' d the ground
Are guests by right of custom : — old and young ; . . .
Here once a year distinction lowers its crest,
The master, servant, and the merry guest,
Are equal all ; and round the happy ring
The reaper's eyes exulting glances fling,
And, warm'd with gratitude, he quits his place,
With sun-burnt hands and ale-enliven' d face,
Refills the jug, his honor* d host to tend,
To serve at once the master and the friend ;
Proud thus to meet his smiles, to share his tale,
His nuts, his conversation, and his ale."
1 Golden Bough, m, 139.
2 The Farmer's Boy, Summer.
5
262 LEWIS F. MOTT.
Among others Stratt also records this custom : " The harvest-
supper in some places is called a mell supper, and a churn
supper; at which, Bourne tells us, 'the servant and his
master are alike, and everything is done with equal freedom :
they sit at the same table, converse freely together, and
spend the remaining part of the night in dancing and sing-
ing, without any difference or distinction.'"1 "I once
thought/' says Brand, "that the northern name of the
entertainment given on this occasion, i. e.} Mell-supper, was
derived from the French word mesler, to mingle or mix
together, the master and servant sitting promiscuously at the
same table. . . . All being upon an equal footing, or, as
the northern vulgar idiom has it, ' Hail fellow well met.' " 2
The equality ascribed to Arthur's knights need not, then,
have grown out of any such incident as that narrated by
Layamon. Yet we may be sure that some sort of a contest
was a feature of the popular festival. The Round Table
tournaments,3 so frequently described in the romances and
which subsisted to the close of the Middle Ages, had their
parallels in primitive custom. "Posidonius in the third and
also in the twentieth book of his Histories, says — 'The
Celtae sometimes have single combats at their entertain-
ments. For being collected in arms, they go through the
exercise, and make feints at, and sometimes they even go so
far as to wound one another. And being irritated by this,
if the bystanders do not stop them, they will proceed even
1 Sports and Pastimes, London, 1810, p. 321 : Brand refers to this equality
at the harvest-supper as general, n, 16.
2 Brand, Popular Antiquities, n, 27, note. For the word mell, see English
Dialect Dictionary of Wright.
8 An interesting example is offered even in the reign of Henry VIII,
though it is not called a Round Table. The king and his followers rode to
the wood to fetch the May, and after this held a three days' tournament.
Hall's Chronicle, London, 1809, p. 520. For connection between May and
jousts, see Du Cange, s. v. Maium, ' ' Eodem Maii nomine designari videtur
hastiludii species, in charta ann. 1346."
THE ROUND TABLE. 263
to kill one another. But in olden times/ he continues,
' there was a custom that a hind quarter of pork was put on
the table, and the bravest man took it ; and if anyone else
laid claim to it, then the two rose up to fight till one of
them was slain.' " l An incident of the former kind is
narrated in Geoffrey's chronicle ; 2 — In honor of his second
victory over Caesar, Cassebelaunus assembles his nobles and
their wives and offers an immense sacrifice, after which a
great feast is held. In the games that ensue, his nephew
and another young nobleman fight in earnest and the nephew
is slain. We seem to have here the remains of such a contest
as the pretended battle between companies of herdsmen on
the Lupercal,3 the struggle between summer and winter,4 and
the attack and defence of Hallowe'en fires.5
The aetiological myth originates as an explanation of rude
primitive rites. With the development of the story, the
petty chiefs of shepherds, herdsmen and farmers grow into
heroic demi-gods and mighty kings, and the manners and
practices of a more civilized age clothe and almost hide the
early customs. Yet, while these tales acquire literary form
and poetic coloring, the ancient ritual subsists almost un-
altered among the peasantry, and by comparing the tale and
the ritual we can, in the identity of incident and usage,
discern their mutual relationship. In the present case,
though the investigation deals, not with a narrative, but
with an institution, the same principles are operative. All
the known features of Arthur's Round Table are found in
primitive agricultural celebrations. It is true that no one
1 Athenaeus, Deipnosophists, vol. I, p. 248, Bk. iv, c. 40. See also Litt.
Celtique, vi, 53.
2 IV, viii. Wace, with greater detail, 4407-4459.
"Mannhardt, Myth. Forsch., 77.
* Golden Sough, II, 99 seq. ; Brand, I, 246.
5 Brand, i, 389.
264 LEWIS F. MOTT.
festival, as recently practised, contains them all, yet this
fact furnishes no valid ground for objection, since the details
of these observances exhibit a certain fluidity and the traits
of one pass readily into any of the others. " The Whitson-
tide Holydays," says Strutt,1 " were celebrated by various
pastimes commonly practised upon other festivals," and the
same remark may be applied to any one of this group.
Bonfires, fighting, inversion of ranks, together with feasting,
dancing and singing, are found equally at May, Midsummer
and Autumn. Every observance mentioned is attested on
Celtic ground, while the most essential feature of the whole,
an actual round table in the grassy field, survived even in
the eighteenth century folk-custom of Scotland to indicate
the original character of Arthur's feasts. Voyaging back
through the ages, we can imagine a band of ancient Celts,
all of the same clan, gathering to perform their sacrificial
rites around what was, perhaps, their symbol of the sun, a
circular table cut in the sod. As the clan is included in the
nation, the festival of the king acquires greater prominence
than the local observances, yet still preserves the essential
features of its prototypes.2 Arthur, whether agricultural
god or semi-historical leader, naturally attracts these cere-
monies to his court, and then the French poets, transforming
the Celtic hero into a magnificent emperor, conceive of the
Round Table as the centre around which his peerless knights
gather for feasts and tournaments which reflect the courtly
etiquette of mediaeval society.
LEWIS F. MOTT.
1 Sports and Pastimes, p. 316. For confusion of festivals see Chamber's
Mediaeval Stage, Oxford, 1903, I, 256.
2 The fact, mentioned above, p. 233, that tradition has preserved the
record of at least three Bound Tables confirms the theory of such a
development.
VI.— PARKE GODWIN AND THE TRANSLATION
OF ZSCHOKKE'S TALES.1
Within the last decade students of German in America
have been brought to a fuller consciousness of the great debt
which American culture owes to the German Fatherland.
On this side of the water the Americana Germanica and its
successor, the German American Annals, edited by Prof.
Learned, have not only thrown much light on the linguistic,
literary and cultural relations of the two countries in the
past, but have also served as a stimulus in calling the atten-
tion of scholars to many points of contact hitherto overlooked.
On the other side of the ocean, Ludwig Viereck, in his book
Zwei Jahrhunderte deutschen Unterrichts in den Vereinigten
Staaten, has given German scholars a clear historical account
of the part which German instruction has played and is still
playing in American education.
In the light of these efforts to trace the various channels
through which German influence has flowed into American
life, it may not be amiss here to call attention to the less ambi-
tious, though, measured by its popular influence, by no means
unimportant work of translation ; and in a brief sketch to
recall the modest services of a man who was one of the first
to be inspired by German idealism and one of the pioneers
in making German literature known in America and appre-
ciated by the American public. I refer to the late Parke
1The author desires here to express his obligations to Mr. William
Warner Bishop, of the Princeton University Library, for his invaluable
services in securing access to the files of rare magazines ; to Mr. Geo.
Haven Putnam, of New York, for his kindness in lending the author a
copy of the original Zschokke Tales, now a very rare book ; and to Mr.
Wm. P. Prentice, of New York, one of the Zschokke translators, for his
reminiscences of Parke Godwin and the first edition of ZZschokke Tales.
265
266 JOHN PRESTON HOSKINS.
Godwin, best known through his connection with the Evening
Post, and for almost three-quarters of a century one of the
most familiar figures in the literary, artistic, and social life
of New York City.
When and where Godwin first began the study of German
I have not been able to ascertain with certainty. The fact
that his mother was Dutch may have given him an heredi-
tary predilection for things Teutonic. He spent his youth
in his native place, Paterson, N. J. Here, as well as after
his college course, while studying law in St. Louis, he may
have come in contact with German settlers. But the fact
that he could never speak German seems to preclude the
probability that his interest in German literature could have
been awakened in either of these places. More probable —
but still uncertain — is the supposition that he began the
study of German while in college. Godwin was a member
of the Princeton class of 1834. From 1832 to 1842 an
Austrian, Benedict Jaeger, performed a threefold function in
Princeton, as professor of Natural History, German, and
Italian. Of course modern languages were not a part of the
curriculum at this time. But they were taught at hours
outside the regular schedule, without extra charge, to those
students who desired them. It is, therefore, not impossible
that Godwin began the study of German during his student
days.
But whether his interest in German was aroused at this
time or after 1837, when he settled permanently in New
York, his translations were really a part of that wave of
German influence which about 1840, as Learned has shown
(Pddagog. Monatsheft, February, 1901), became the leading
and in some respects the transforming force in American
culture. This German influence, it will be recalled, mani-
fested itself not only in the reform, after the Prussian model,
of the common school system in Ohio by Calvin O. Stowe,
PARKE GODWIN AND ZSCHOKKE's TALES. 267
and in Massachusetts by Horace Mann ; in the establishment
of a university on the German plan — the University of
Michigan in 1837 ; but it also became for a decade or more
the chief factor in philosophy and letters. Kant's idealism
was the dominant element in the thinking of Emerson,
Parker, Hedge, and the other so-called transcendentalists ;
while Longfellow and that group of idealists gathered at
Brook Farm not only paid homage to transcendental phi-
losophy, but drew their literary inspiration largely from
German sources. It is this little group of idealists known
as the Brook Farmers that forms the link between the new
philosophical and literary movement about Boston and the
translations of Parke Godwin.
In his political views Godwin was an enthusiastic advo-
cate of free trade and had strong sympathies with the ideas
of voluntary association advocated by Fourier. He was
thus led to take part with Ripley, Emerson, Hawthorne,
Margaret Fuller, Horace Greeley, Charles A. Dana, John S.
D wight, and George William Curtis in the socialistic experi-
ment to realize the ideals of equality and fraternity at Brook
Farm. He was never a member of the community, but
helped earnestly from the outside. He it was who wrote
the first address on behalf of the "Association " and edited
its official organ, The Harbinger, after it was removed to
New York in 1847. His first book too was A Popular View
of the Doctrines of Charles Fourier (1844).
The platform of the Brook Farm reformers contained,
concretely stated, three propositions : — In philosophy it
aimed to introduce a current of thought which would lift
men above the reiteration, in varied forms, of accepted dogmas
or creeds and, in the language of the Dial (vol. I, 1840), be
a " cheerful rationalistic voice amid the din of mourners and
polemics." In its scheme of social reform its purpose was
to furnish an example of a self-supporting community living
268 JOHN PRESTON HOSKINS.
according to its ideal of equality and fraternity among men.
And finally, in behalf of popular culture, its aim was to
bring a knowledge of art and literature to a people which
for a century and a half had been aesthetically starved.
As far as the origin of these propositions is concerned,
its scheme of social reform was mostly French, while in its
philosophical and literary aspect it received its inspiration
from German sources. The Dial, in its opening number,
points to that " current of thought and feeling which [ema-
nating from Germany] had led many ... in New England to
make new demands upon literature." And in an article on
German literature in the same periodical (January, 1841)
Parker characterizes it as " the fairest, the richest, the most
original, fresh and religious literature of all modern times."
He predicts the happiest results from a knowledge of it,
"the diligence which shuns superficial study, the boldness
which looks for the causes of things and the desire to fall
back on what alone is elementary and eternal in criticism
and philosophy ; " while the translator of Goethe's Hermann
und Dorothea writes in the Democratic Review (September,
1848): "Many have felt that the strong Teutonic intellect
and its rich and varied productions have hitherto been too
imperfectly known and appreciated among us, that indeed
any adequate knowledge of them has been confined to a
circle quite too narrow and exclusive ; and consequently,
that one of the most original, thoughtful and indefatigable
of the European races has not exercised its due influence
upon our minds ; " and he concludes this paragraph with the
words : " It is certain that no book or author can exert a
wide and pervading influence until translated into the living
language of the people by whom it is read."
This group of idealists was convinced, as Ticknor had
been before them, that if they could bring the American
public into contact with translations of good literature, the
PARKE GODWIN AND ZSCHOKKE's TALES. 269
general taste for reading would grow and the general intelli-
gence and consequent civilization improve. They would begin
"by translation," as one of the contributors to the Dial writes,
and then pass on to "original creation as other nations had
done," or, as Ripley says in his introduction to Specimens of
Foreign Literature: 'f In this enterprise of a very unambitious
character the editors are content with the humble task of
representing the views of other minds if thereby they may
give fresh impulses to thought, enlarge the treasures of our
youthful literature or contribute to a small degree to the
gratification of a liberal curiosity."
The members of the Brook Farm Association were not
the first to translate works from the German, for, as we shall
see in the case of Zschokke, translations were made inde-
pendent of this movement. Ever since the days when
Carlyle and Coleridge began to preach German metaphysics
and romanticism in England, and American students (circa
1820) such as Everett, Bancroft, and Motley began to attend
German Universities, scattering translations from the German
had appeared in the British and American magazines. Here
and there, too, English translations of longer works had
been republished in America. But it was nevertheless the
Brook Farm movement which let in the full tide of German
influence into American life.
Before 1830 the interest in German may be characterized
as sporadic.1 A number of translations appear in this country,
mostly as American editions of English publications. They
deal with different subjects, and in most cases serve other
than purely literary purposes.2 As early as 1820 Otto von
1 For translations from the German previous to 1825, see Frederick H.
Wilkens, Early Influence of German Literature in America, in Americana
Germanica, 1899-1900, pp. 103-205.
2 For publications up to 1840 the author has followed mainly the
quarterly announcements of new books in the North American Review and
Roorbach's Bibliotheca Americana : American Publications between 1820 and
270 JOHN PRESTON HOSKINS.
Kotzebue's Journey into Persia was published in Philadelphia.
Scholarly interest accounts for Bancroft's translation of some
of Heeren's Historical Works in 1824 and 1828 (North
Hampton and New York) ; and religious interests for the
appearance of the sacred drama, The Resurrection of Jesus
Christ, translated from the German (Boston, 1826), and
Prince Alexander von Hohenlohe's Prayer Book (1827), a
Roman Catholic work, which appeared the next year.
Translations from the German also helped to meet the
demand for juvenile reading before 1830. FouquS's Undine
was published in Philadelphia in 1824,1 and from the number
of times it was repeated I conclude that it was one of the
most popular German translations in America about 1840.
From a book notice (North American Review, 1839) of a new
translation of this story we learn that it was already well
known, and the Rev. Thomas Tracy, the translator of this
story together with Sintram and his Companions (New York,
1845), tells us that it was then being printed for the fifth
time. This statement, combined with the fact that it was
copyrighted this year, probably to prevent pirating, points to
a wide circulation. In the same line of juvenile literature
an English version of Grimm's Popular Stories appeared in
Boston in 1826, to be repeated two years later ; and faint
echoes of Joachim Heinrich Campe's theories of pedagogical
reform reached America in Elizabeth Helmes's (English)
translations of his Columbus and Pizarro,2 which were pub-
lished in the same city in 1829.
In the domain of pure literature we may mention FouquS's
1 According to Wilkens (p. 142), two editions were published this same
year, and also Chamisso's Peter SchlemihL
* Wilkens (p. 184) cites Campe's New Robinson Crusoe before 1803. He
thinks the Columbus, Cortez and Pizarro were republished in America before
1826. The date here, 1829, is taken from the North American Review,
October, 1829. These may be new editions.
PABKE GODWIN AND ZSCHOKKE's TALES. 271
Minstrel Love,1 an English version of which was put upon
the market in 1824 ; M. G. Lewis's (English) translation of
Zschokke's romance AbeUino (Boston, 1826); and James S.
Knowles's adaptation of Schiller's Wilhelm Tell, which was
published the same year (1826) in New York, in connection
with the performance of that play at the Park Theatre.
Toward the end of this decade (1829) two German Tales
probably of a juvenile character, entitled Honig's Owl Tower
and Mary's Journey, also appeared in Boston, but whether
these were actual translations or original productions whose
scene was laid in Germany, the announcement does not state.
In conclusion it is worthy of note that the North American
Review for 1823 contains articles on Grillparzer's Das Goldene
Fliess with a translation of some passages, and on Schiller's
life2 (April, 1823) and minor poems (October, 1823); while
the German edition of Herder's complete works is reviewed3
and two of his minor poems are translated in the same
journal for January, 1825.
Between 1830 and 1839, the year in which John S.
Dwight's Select Minor Poems of Goethe and Schiller and
Margaret Fuller's Translations of Eckermann's Conversations
with Goethe appeared as vols. 3 and 4 of Kipley's Specimens
of Foreign Literature, the increasing number of translations
of literary works bears witness to the growing interest in
German Literature. This result was due, at least in part,
to Professor Charles Follen's activity at Harvard, but Calvert's
work in Baltimore during this decade is also worthy of
mention, and the half dozen German grammars, readers, and
dictionaries which were published during these years in
Boston, Andover, and Philadelphia show that the desire to
learn German was not confined to a single locality.
1 In 1822 a reprint of the London translation by George Soane was pub-
lished in New York. Wilkens, p. 142 (No. 173, in Appendix).
'Attributed to A. H. Everett.
'Attributed to Bancroft.
272 JOHN PRESTON HOSKINS.
Omitting minor poems published in magazines, and pass-
ing over such works as Johann von Miiller's Universal History
(1832), Puckler-Muskau's Tutti-Frutti (1834), F. V. Rein-
hard's Memoirs and Confessions (1832), and a book of German
Parables (1834), all of which were American editions of
translations made in England and owed their publication to
other than literary interests, I find during this period some
dozen other translations from Herder, Goethe, Schiller, A.
W. Schlegel, Tieck, Zschokke, Heine, and others, done in
part by Americans.
Reserving the five or six Zschokke tales for separate
consideration, the year 1833 brought an American edition
of Black's (English) translation of A. W. Schlegel's Lectures
on Dramatic Art and Literature (Philadelphia) and of Smith's
(English) version of Tieck's tale, The Lover of Nature.
Herder's Spirit of Hebrew Poetry was translated by James
Marsh and published in Burlington, Vermont, in 1834—35.
From Goethe I have discovered only one work, Gotz von
JBerlichingen l (Philadelphia, 1837), but Schiller, as one would
naturally expect, received particular attention. In 1833
Carlyle's (?) Life of Schiller, with a preface by Follen, was
published in Boston ; two years later the Diver appeared in
the Democratic Review; in 1837 his Song of The JB ell was
translated by S. A. Eliot for the Boston Academy of Music,
and Wallenstein's Camp by George E. Moir, with a memoir of
Albert Wallenstein by G. W. Havens, appeared in the same
city. The year 1837 also witnessed the appearance of Wil-
helm Tell, translated by C. T. Brooks, in Providence, R. I.
In Baltimore, Calvert published in 1836 a Lecture on German
Literature (being a sketch of its history from its origin to
the present day) and the announcement of this publication
in the North American Review (October, 1836) informs us
that he had already translated two acts of Don Carlos. G.
1 Probably Walter Scott's translation. See Wilkens, p. 135.
PAKKE GODWIN AND ZSCHOKKE's TALES. 273
W. Havens' s English translation of Heine's Letters Auxiliary
to the History of Modern Polite Literature in Germany was
republished in Boston in 1836; and of a miscellaneous
character we may mention Henry, or the Pilgrim Hat on the
Wessenstein, translated by a clergyman (1835), and two publi-
cations by Herman Bokum, German Instructor at Harvard :
The Chime of the Bells from the German of Frederick Strause
(Boston, 1836) and The German Wreath, or Translations in
Poetry and Prose from Celebrated Writers, with Biographical
and Explanatory Notes. The last noteworthy book before
1839 was Nathaniel Greene's Tales from the German, hi two
volumes, containing Van der Velde's Arwed Gyllenstierna,
The Lichtensteins, The Anabaptist, and The Sorceress (Boston,
1838).
By 1840 translations from the German had become quite
the literary fashion. A reviewer of Mrs. Jameson's Dramas
of Princess Amelia in the North American Review (April,
1841) makes the statement: "It cannot be denied that
German Literature has come to exercise a great influence
upon the intellectual character of Europe and America. We
may lament over this fact or rejoice at it, according to our
several points of view ; but we cannot disguise from our-
selves its existence. It is thrust upon our notice at every
comer of the street, it stares us in the face from the pages
of every literary periodical. All the sciences own the power
of that influence, on poetry and criticism it acts still more
sensibly, etc."
When we recall that the Dial began in 1840 to make
open propaganda for German philosophy and German litera-
ture; that Ripley's Specimens contain, besides the works
already mentioned, Felton's translation of Menzel's His-
tory of German Literature (Boston, 1840) and C. T.
Brooks's Songs and Ballads from Uhland, Kdrner, Burger
and Other Lyric Poets (1842); that Hedge's Prose Writers
of Germany (Philadelphia, 1845) and Longfellow's Poets and
274 JOHN PRESTON HOSKINS.
Poetry of Europe (Philadelphia, 1845) all emanated from
transcendentalists about Boston ; we cannot doubt that it was
the Brook Farm movement which gave the strongest impulse
to the study of German literature and laid the broad founda-
tion for a popular appreciation of German prose and poetry.
But nevertheless the interest in German was not confined to
Boston alone. While Philadelphia had always been a centre
for the publication of translations from the German, owing
probably to the large German population in Pennsylvania,
it is worthy of note that at this time the most prominent
translator in that city, Rev. W. H. Furness, a Harvard
graduate, was pastor of the First Unitarian Church and
must have kept in intimate touch with the transcendental
movement about Boston. This may possibly have had some-
thing to do with the publication of Longfellow's and Hedge's
comprehensive works in the Quaker City.
New York, which previous to 1840 had had little share
in the publication of translations from the German, through
the efforts of Godwin and other Brook Farm sympathizers
now followed the general fashion. All her leading publishers
after 1840 put English versions of German works on the
market in rapid succession. But the movement spread still
further. Longer poems, short stories, and articles on German
life and literature appear frequently in the Southern periodi-
cals. As early as 1835 the Democratic Review (Washington,
D. C.) began to publish short poems from the German, and
the Southern Literary Messenger (Richmond, Va.) for 1843,
besides two of Zschokke's tales, contains stories from the
German translated by a " Lady of Virginia " and a Jane
Tayloe W of Chilicothe, Ohio, showing that the new
literary movement had attained wide geographic extent.
The frequent translation of German prose and poetry in the
Southern periodicals raises the question also whether Dr.
Blattermann's activity as professor of German at the Uni-
PARKE GODWIN AND ZSCHOKKE's TALES. 275
versity of Virginia between 1825 and 1840 may not have
had some share in creating this widespread interest in German
literature.
In fact, my researches, as yet by no means exhaustive,
lead me to the belief that more translations of German
literary works, from a wider range of authors, were pub-
lished between the years 1840 and 1850 than in any other
decade of our history. It seems that almost every German
author mentioned in Longfellow's Poets and Poetry of Europe
and Hedge's Prose Writers of Germany now found a special
translator. Of the older writers, I find Lessing's Minna
von . Barnhelm and Emilia Galotti as well as Moses
Mendelssohn's Phaedon, in the Democratic Review for 1848
and 1849. Herder's Outlines of a Philosophy of the History
of Man translated by Thomas Churchill was reprinted in
New York (1841), and at least a portion of Winckelmann's
History of Ancient Art was done into English by G. Henry
Lodge (Boston, 1849).
Of Goethe's works I have noted : the first American
edition of Hayward's prose translation of Faust (Lowell,
1840), repeated in Boston (1851); Egmont (Boston, 1841);
a reissue of the wretched Memoirs of Goethe (New York,
1844) which had appeared in New York first in 1825 ;
Ward's translation of the Essays on Art (1845); the Auto-
biography by Parke Godwin (New York, 1846); Hermann
und Dorothea1 (Democratic Review, 1848); Alexis and Dora
(Democratic Review, 1849); the first three acts of Iphigenia
in Tauris (Democratic Review, 1849); G. J. Adler's com-
plete translation of the same (New York, 1851); and, cited
by Roorbach before 1852, The Sorrows of Werther2 (Ithaca,
New York) and Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship and Travels 3
1A reprint of Holcroft's (London) translation was printed and published
in Richmond in 1805. Wilkens, p. 147 (No. 108).
1 Four editions of this before 1810, cited by Wilkens, p. 136, note.
8Carlyle's probably.
276 JOHN PRESTON HOSKINS.
(Boston); not to mention numerous shorter poems, which
were published in almost all the periodicals of the time.
Judged by the number of translations, Schiller is again,
as in the previous decade, the most popular of the German
poets. The Democratic Review for 1839 contains transla-
tions of his Ideal and Diver, by the author of Pocahontas.
The same year Mrs. Ellet published her Characters of Schiller
(Boston) with translations, and this book went through a
second edition in 1842. The years 1840, 1841 and 1843
brought respectively William Peter's (English) translation of
Wilhelm Tell and Other Poems (Philadelphia), Mary Stuart l
(Philadelphia, 1841) and the Maid of Orleans1 (Cambridge,
1843). Cassandra appeared in the Democratic Review for
1843 ; and the next year saw Bulwer's Life, with the Ballads
and Poems (New York), The Fight with the Dragon (Demo-
cratic Review) and The Ghost-Seer 2 [(New York Sun Office).
In 1845 Calvert published his translation of the Schiller-
Goethe Correspondence, and J. Weiss, The Aesthetic Letters,
Essays, and Philosophic Letters (Boston and London, 1845),
while the Democratic Review for this same year (January,
1845) offered the Song of The Bell. Morrison's version of
the Revolt of the Netherlands (New York, 1846) and a new
edition of Carlyle's Life (New York, 1846) followed in the
next year ; and in 1847, C. T. Brooks's Homage of the Arts,
with Miscellaneous Pieces from Ruckert, Freiligrath and Other
German Poets (Boston) ; while the Histoi^y of the Thirty
Years' War translated by A. J. W. Morrison (New York)
closes the list in 1847. If we add to this countless repeti-
tions of his minor poems in the magazines, we realize that
Schiller outranks his greater contemporary in popular favor.
In passing to the Romantic School, H. Gates translated
iByC. T. Brooks.
2 Wilkens (p. 137) cites two translations of this tale in America before
1803.
PARKE GODWIN AND ZSCHOKKE'S TALES. 277
Burger's Song of the Gallant Man (Democratic Review, 1842) ;
and according to Allibone (Dictionary of Authors) C. T.
Brooks, Richter's Titan, about 1840. The same author's
Reminiscences of the Best Hours of Life for the Hour of
Death appeared in Boston in 1841, and Eliza B. Lea pub-
lished a Life of Jean Paul Richter with his Autobiography
translated (Boston, 1842) and Walt and VuU, or The Twins
(in the same city four years later). Noel was responsible for
Flower, Fruit and Thorn . ... or the History of Siebenkds
(Boston, 1845); and if we add an article on Richter by
Calvert in the New York Review some time before 1848, we
realize that Jean Paul, too, must have been a popular
favorite.
The productions of the Romantic School proper also
enjoyed a wide circulation, both as separate publications
and as magazine articles. A. W. Schlegel's Lectures on
Dramatic Art and Literature (1833) we have already men-
tioned. Friedrich Schlegel's Lectures on the History of
Literature — probably Lockhartfs translation — (New York) l
and his Philosophy of History, translated by J. B. Robert-
son (Philadelphia, 1841 2) both appeared in 1841, to
be followed six years later by the Rev. A. J. W. Morri-
son's translation of his Philosophy of Life and Philosophy of
Language (New York, 1847).
The Democratic Review for 1845 contained Tieck's The
Friends and the Klausenburg, the latter an adaptation by
Mrs. E. F. Ellet, while Puss in Boots, with the illustrations
of Otto Speckler, was published in New York in 1841.
Novalis's Henry of Ofterdingen, with Weiss's translation of
the poetry, appeared in Cambridge in 1842 ; and the London
translation of his Christianity or Europe (1844) was familiar
1 Published first in Philadelphia, as a reprint of the Edinburgh edition,
in 1818. Wilkens, No. 166.
2 The fourth edition appeared in 1845.
6
278 JOHN PRESTON HOSKINS.
to theologians on this side of the ocean. The Democratic
Review published Brentano's The Three Nuts (May, 1849),
translated by Mrs. St. Simons ; E. T. A. Hoffmann's Astrolo-
ger's Tower (March, 1845), translated by Mrs. Ellet, and The
Faro Table (June, 1845); Hauff's Sheik of Alexandria
(] 845), translated by S. Gardiner Spring, Jr. ; Johanna
Schopenhauer's The Favorite (May, 1846), translated by
Nathaniel Greene ; and Auerbach's The Professor's Lady
(July, 1850), translated by Mary Howitt; while parts of
Hauff's lAchtenstein were translated in the Southern Quarterly
Review for 1845 and his True Lovers' Fortune, or the Beggar
Girl of the Pont des Arts appeared separately in Boston in
1842, and the Amencan Review (August, 1846) contained
Lyser's Julietta, by Mrs. St. Simons, and Auerbach's A
Battle for Life and Death (March, 1849).
If we add now titles like Heinrich Stilling's Theobald the
Fanatic* (Philadelphia, 1846), Stolle's The Birthday Tree,
translated by Mary L. Plumb (Democratic Review, 1839),
Spindler's The Jew (New York, 1844), Stiefter's The Condor
(Democratic Review, 1850); stories of anonymous authorship
like Christmas Eve (Boston, 1841), Gunderode (Boston, 1842),2
Mary Schweidler, the Amber Witch (London and New York,
1 844),3 and at least seven others that I have counted in the pages
of the Democratic Review and the Southern Literary Messenger ;
collections like Mrs. Follen's Gammer Grethel, or German
Fairy Tales (Boston, 1840), Little Stories from the German
(Boston, 1841), Miniature Romances from the German (Boston,
1841), Tales and Sketches from the French . and German
(Boston, 1843) by Nathaniel Greene, Remarkable Visions
(Boston, 1844), a tale of somnambulism, Schmid's Interesting
Stories, Chiefly in Illustration of Providence (Boston, 1841),
1 H. J. Stilling' s Scenes in the World of Spirits was translated by Gottlieb
Shober in Salem, N. C., about 1815. Wilkens, No. 163.
2 Translated by Margaret Fuller. 3 Dr. Meinhold's.
PABKE GODWIN AND ZSCHOKKE's TALES. 279
Sacred Allegories (Boston, 1841), and vol. 1 of Sara Austin's
Fragments of German Prose Writers (New York, 1842);
short poems in the periodicals from Arndt, Claudius, Fre-
ligrath, Heine, Herwegh, Korner, Mahlmann, Matthi-
son, Miiller, Novalis, Smets, and Uhland ; miscellane-
ous works like von Raumer's America and the American
People (New York, 1846), F. Gerstaecker's Wanderings and
Fortunes of Some German Emigrants (New York, 1848),
Lavater on Physiognomy1 (Hartford, before 1852), and a
book on Student Life in Germany (Philadelphia, 1842) with
about forty of the most famous songs ; and finally magazine
articles on actors like Devrient and his wife (Democratic Re-
view, 1845) and on musicians like Gluck (Democratic Review,
1846), Handel (American Review, February, 1849), Haydn
(Democratic Review, 1846), Beethoven (American Review,
June, 1846), and Mozart (Democratic Review, 1847) — we gain
some conception of the wide range as well as the popularity
of translation from the German at this period. And when
we remember that there was no international copyright law,
and uncopyrighted translations in the periodicals could be
repeated without let or hindrance in weeklies and dailies, the
wide publicity given to German literary works is really
surprising.
During this period no German writer was more popular
than Heinrich Zschokke. In an article on German novelists
in the Southern Quarterly Review the writer tells us that "no
German author of fiction had been so extensively trans-
lated ; " and a writer in the Democratic Review (July, 1845),
in all probability Godwin himself, for he was a frequent
contributor to this magazine, in a sketch entitled The Life
and Writings of Heinrich Zschokke, makes the statement :
" Hardly a day passes that we do not see in one periodical
According to Wilkens (p. 149) an abridged edition of Holcroft's (Eng-
lish) translation was published in Boston not later than 1803.
280 JOHN PRESTON HOSKINS.
or another a selection from the almost inexhaustible source
which Zschokke supplies."
The reasons for Zschokke' s popularity are not far to seek.
This teacher, lecturer, dramatist, poet, historian, traveler,
diplomatist, stadtholder, newspaper editor, popular instructor,
and above all social reformer and philosopher enjoyed a
popularity at home which had never been equaled by any
previous German author. This is clear from the fact that
his Ausgewdhlte Dichtungen, Erzahlungen und Novellen ran
through nine editions up to 1851, and his Gesammelte Schriften,
first published between 1851 and 1854, lived through a
second edition in 1865, not to mention the frequent reprints
of individual publications.
Moreover we learn from his autobiography (Selbstschau,
Aarau, 1842) that he was already known and read by the
Germans in America. Wm. Kadde, a New York publisher
of German books who flourished about 1850, found it
profitable to publish some of the Aarau editions here in
America. The Library of Congress possesses a copy of the
seventh edition of his NoveUen und Dichtungen (Aarau and
New York). If this corresponds to the seventh Swiss edi-
tion, the date would be 1845, and in the same library there
is also to be found a copy of the "lite Vermehrte Aus-
gabe in Commission bei Wm. Radde," with the date 1859.
Besides these, the Catalogue of American Publications of
1876 cites — alas! without date — a paper edition of his Werke
in forty-six volumes at ten and twenty cents per number, by F.
W. Thomas in Philadelphia, and a three-volume edition of
his Novellen und Dichtungen, likewise without date, was
published by the same house. These different editions show
that Zschokke was well known as a " Volksdichter " by the
Germans in America and must have enjoyed a wide popu-
larity. His strong democratic sympathies, his indirect
criticisms of social conditions in Germany, and his tolerant
PARKE GODWIN AND ZSCHOKKE'S TALES. 281
religious views were all sure to find a cordial response in the
heart of those Germans who had quitted the fatherland as
sufferers from social or religious oppression.
Moreover Zschokke had been long favorably known to
both English and Americans as a historian. His History of
the Invasion of Switzerland by the French appeared in an
English version in London as early as 1803, and his Popular
History of Switzerland (original edition, Aarau, 1822), first
translated by an Englishman in 1833, was a popular book
in America, being either reprinted or republished as early as
1834, and running through two more editions in 1855 and
1875 (New York).
But most of all, perhaps, Zschokke's Religious Meditations
paved the way for a ready acceptance of his literary pro-
ductions. The years 1830-1860 were probably the most
religious in our history. Eighteenth century rationalism had
spent its force, the higher criticism had not yet appeared to
cast doubt on the inspired Word of God, evolution was
hardly born, and the scientific spirit had made little or no
headway. The pulpit still dominated the thinking and feel-
ing of the middle classes. When we recall the opposition
which transcendentalism met with both within and outside
of New England, Bancroft's criticism of Goethe for his
irreligion and immorality, and the misgivings with which
the works of the great poet were received by the orthodox
everywhere, the advantage enjoyed by a thoroughly Christian
believer in gaining public approbation is at once apparent,
though that believer, as Godwin says, "passed from the dark
and tempestuous abyss in which he floated into the serene
heaven of living faith — not through the gate way of a
wretched logic, but along the long and beautiful road of
actual work."
Zschokke's Stunden der Andacht (1809-1816) ran through
twenty-nine editions in Germany up to 1852. In 1835 a
282 JOHN PRESTON HOSKINS.
second American edition, Hours of Devotion, translated by
Morris Mattson, was published in Philadelphia. The trans-
lator omits the name of the author, but the fact that his
version was made from the 13th German edition leaves us
no room to doubt that it was Zschokke. The book was
translated once more in London by Burrows in 1838, and
again by J. D. Haas in 1843. The Haas edition, under the
title Hours of Meditation and Reflection was republished by
Kedfield in New York (1 844). To this was added Zschokke's
Thoughts on the Religious, Moral and Social Duties of Life,
by the same publisher in the same year, and the popularity
of these books of devotion among the middle classes caused
them to reappear under varying titles until the year 1863.
However glaring his deficiencies as a writer, however
humble the place that must be assigned him in the German
literary hierarchy, Zschokke, nevertheless, from the point of
view of the social forces then at work both in Germany and
America, possessed those qualities which were bound to
make him a power in the struggle for the elevation of the
masses. The man who had made the native land of Rousseau
and Pestalozzi the scene of his multifarious activity could
hardly fail to become a social and political reformer. In
Germany his significance lies in the fact that his works gave
voice to the discontent at the frivolity and the worthlessness
of the ruling aristocracy, and made a plea, on behalf of the
people, for a share in the government. Though never
radical in tone, they are none the less manifestations of that
democratic movement in Germany which culminated in the
popular uprisings of 1848.
In America his strong democratic sympathies, his religious
orthodoxy, the fact that the purpose of his writing was to
produce healthier reading for the public and often to teach
some lesson in social ethics, made his works admirable
instruments in the hands of those who were eager to
PAKKE GODWIN AND ZSCHOKKEJS TALES. 283
improve the tone of culture among the people. Though he
had no literary or aesthetic mission to fulfil and lacked both
the sustaining power of imagination and deep emotional
draught, his simple and natural style, combined with the
qualities of easy sentimentality and folk-humour, was such
as to secure for his tales a far greater popularity than was
won by works of a much more enduring character. It
was therefore most natural that his writing should take a
strong hold on such men as Godwin and other advocates of
social and political regeneration.
The first American version (and probably also the first
translation into English) of any of Zschokke's works takes
us back to the year 1800.1 In his history of the American
stage (New York, 1834) Wm. Dunlap, manager of the Park
Theatre, tells us that, without knowing until years after-
wards who the author was, he translated from the German
and adapted to the New York Theatre Abaellino, the Great
Bandit, a grand Dramatic Romance in Five Acts. This
rather lurid melodrama of blood and braggadocio, which is
not to be confused with the Zschokke romance of the year
previous bearing the same title, was written in 1795, and
belongs to Zschokke's period of Storm and Stress. In the
words of the author's autobiography, " It flew on the wings
of the press into almost all the theatres of Germany." He
might have said more, for it was translated into almost all
European languages — French, Spanish, Danish, Polish, and,
under various disguises, was brought forward on most of the
European stages. The play was performed, as the translator
says, for the first time in the English language on February
11, 1801, and was a success. Dunlap's comment is interest-
ing. He remarks : " Never was a play more successful or a
successful play less productive to its author or translator."
1See Wilkens, in the article cited above, pp. 119, 128 and 130 (note).
284 JOHN PRESTON HOSKINS.
Abcettino must have kept the boards for almost a quarter
of a century. The only copy that I have yet discovered is
a little 16mo exemplar of the fourth edition preserved in
the Lenox library in New York, which was published by
Thomas Longworth at the dramatic repository, Shakespeare
Gallery, New York, January, 1820. The names of the
actors with their respective rdles are printed on the first page,
showing that the play must have been performed that
winter.1 In conclusion, it is worth noting that this play2
also found its way into English through the French. In
the catalogue of the British Museum three editions of such a
translation are recorded for the years 1805, 1806, and 1820.
Turning now to the history of the Zschokke Tales in
America, it would be a wellnigh impossible task to trace
them through all their manifold repetitions and adaptations.
They were published mostly in periodicals of a popular
character, and it is exactly periodicals of this kind which
are least likely to be preserved in complete sets and are
almost never properly indexed. Further difficulty arises
from the fact that the same tale is sometimes published
under different titles. At times even the fact that it is a
translation from the German is not mentioned. Never-
theless the data that I have been able to gather from many
different sources will serve to demonstrate the popularity of
this prolific writer and show how his stories passed from
one magazine to another.
The first Zschokke translations to reach America came by
1 Since completing this article, the author has discovered a copy of the
2nd edition, 1807 ; of the 3rd edition, 1814 ; and a second copy of the 4th
edition, 1820, in the C. Fiske Harris Collection of American Poetry and
Plays, Brown University Library.
2According to a note of Wilkens (p. 120) this adaptation was made by
E. W. Elliston for the English stage and reprinted in New York in 1806.
See Wilkens, No. 146, for Lewis's dramatization of this same play under
the title, Eugantino ; or the Bravo of Venice. Keprinted in New York, 1810.
PARKE GODWIN AND ZSCHOKKE's TALES. 285
way of England. We have already mentioned M. G. Lewis's
(English) translation of the romance Abellino,1 made in 1805.
This bandit story, like the drama which was based on it a
genuine "blood and thunder" production, ran through six
editions in England up to 1809, and continued to be repub-
lished there until 1857. In 1809 an American edition of
this English one was published in Baltimore and Boston, a
second in 1826, and a third in 1844, showing that the book
must have had a considerable sale on this side of the Atlantic.
In 1833 a Miss M. Montgomery published a book in
London and Philadelphia entitled Lights and Shadows of
German Life (Philadelphia, 1833). This book contained
three Zschokke translations : The Military Campaigns of a
Man of Peace, The Fugitive of the Jura (sometimes known
as Floriari), and It is very Possible ! This Miss Montgomery,
who afterwards gained some reputation as a novelist,2 was a
Welsh lady and the wife of Baron Tautphoeus, Chamberlain
to the King of Bavaria. With her literary tastes, she no
doubt was familiar with Zschokke's Tales in Germany, and
took advantage of the growing interest in things German to
give the English-speaking world some specimens of popular
German literary workmanship.
One of these stories, Florian or the Fugitive of the Jura,
was translated again ten years later by L. Strack and incor-
porated into his Incidents of Social Life amid the European
Alps (New York, 1844). Both Miss Montgomery's and
Strack's books were no doubt inspired by Zschokke's collec-
tion of three tales entitled Bilder aus der Schweiz (Aarau,
1824-26). The frequent translation of the same story by
different authors is one of the common discoveries in tracing
1 See Wilkens (p. 140) for an account of this story. Beprinted in Balti-
more, 1809 (Wilkens, No. 138), and Boston, 1809 (Wilkens, No. 139).
2 She is the author of the Initials (1850), CyrUla (1853), Quits (1857),
and At Odds (1863). Two of these novels were published in London and
Philadelphia the same year.
286 JOHN PRESTON HOSKINS.
the history of Zschokke's Tales, and bears further witness to
the hold which he had upon the public.
Three years later, in 1836, The Creole (Der Creole, Aarau,
1830), one of the least significant of Zschokke's Tales, was
published by W. H. Colyer in New York. Roorbach (Bib.
Amer.} cites this book, but does not name the translator.
As I have been unable to find any trace of this work else-
where, I cannot say whether it is an American translation
or the reissue of an English edition.
The Metropolitan Magazine, a London publication with an
American edition in New York, for July, 1838, contains
Zschokke's tale, The Bean, without even vouchsafing the
information that the tale is from the German. This story
was again published in The Journal of a Poor Vicar, Wai-
pur gis Night and other Stories from the German (Philadelphia,
1845),1 and this collection was apparently repeated in London
in 1856.
The next translation brings us to the year 1840 and the
American periodicals of the day. The Democratic Review
of this year contains the story, Who governs then? a tale of
the court of Louis XV. This story, according to an article
on Zschokke in Tait's Edinburgh Magazine (1845), was
published in that periodical sometime before 1845, and the
frequent appearance of a story in America in one year and
in a British magazine the next, or vice versa, lends color to
the presumption that these were one and the same translation.
Who the translator was, is not stated in the Democratic
Review, but there are some reasons for thinking that it was
Godwin, not on the basis of higher text criticism, but from
the fact that the subject of this story is one which would
strongly appeal to an enthusiastic advocate of social and
political reform.
The theme of the tale is the unsatisfactory position in
1 Probably translated by the Eev. W. H. Furness.
PARKE GODWIN AND ZSCHOKKE'S TALES. 287
which all rights and all duties stand in a country whose
inhabitants are not protected by a free constitution. When
we remember that Godwin was an abolitionist and as a
member of the Free Soil Convention in 1848, wrote the
brief resolution which proclaimed freedom as the sole object
of rational government, the attraction which the topic of this
story would have had for him is at once apparent. At any rate
we are certain that he translated The Fool of the Nineteenth
Century, a tale of similar import, for the same Democratic
Review two years later, and this story, together with The
Sleep- Waker (Boston, 1842), led up to Godwin's collection
of Zschokke's Tales which appeared in New York in 1845.
About the year 1840 the firm of Wiley & Putnam, after
the fashion of the time, decided to publish a "Library of
Choice Reading." E. A. Duykinck was the supervising
editor. German literary productions were then the fashion,
and Duykinck, who of course knew of Godwin's transla-
tions, chose the latter to prepare a collection of Zschokke's
tales for the " Library." We may observe in passing that
the English translation of Mary Schweidler, the Amber Witch
(1844) and Godwin's translation of Goethe's Dichtung und
Wahrheit (1846) were also published in this serial.
In the Introduction to Zschokke's Tales, Godwin tells us
that he "is rather the editor than the translator of these
tales, that several of the stories were furnished by friends
whose names or initials are attached to the respective transla-
tions, and that two others were taken from magazines or
newspapers. The account of Zschokke's Life and Works in
the Democratic Review (July, 1845) further informs us that
his chief co-translators were Christopher Pearse Cranch, his
own wife (Fanny Bryant Godwin), and Gustav C. Hebbe.
The collection in its two parts contains ten stories fairly
representative of all phases — historical, satirical, mystical,
humorous, and moral — of Zschokke's genius.
288 JOHN PRESTON HOSKINS.
In the first two stories selected we at once recognize the
atmosphere of Brook Farm. The Fool of the Nineteenth
Century, which Godwin had already published in the Demo-
cratic Review (1842), reappears with very slight revision.
The story tells us how a peasant community, reduced through
misgovernment to the depths of poverty and wretchedness,
was socially regenerated within the space of five years.
While Zschokke at the end does not fail to shrewdly warn
the reformer not to make himself too conspicuous by trying
to be different from other people, he apparently had never
heard of Carlyle's wise dictum : " If you want to reform a
man, you must begin with his grandmother." However,
the story harmonizes with the idealistic point of view, and
must have been popular, as I find it again in Strack's Inci-
dents of Social Life amid the European Alps already mentioned.
The second story, Harmonium, is from the pen of Christo-
pher Pearse Cranch ; I imagine this was the only time that
it was ever translated and published, for it is too visionary
and mystical to suit the average reader. To a very slender
thread of incident surcharged with sentimentality, Harmo-
nius, the aged philosopher, attaches a discourse which contains
elements of Pythagoras' s doctrine of the transmigration of
souls, Rousseau's " return to nature " dictum, Fichte's
theory of the finite, and Goethe's elective affinities. Cranch,
it will be recalled, was a frequent visitor at Brook Farm and
subsequently became an artist. In 1844 he published a
volume of transcendental poetry. The reviewer of this book
in the Southern Quarterly Review (July, 1844) remarks :
"German is a good thing — the language, the literature and
to some extent the philosophy — but it has sadly addled some
weak minds in and about the precincts of Boston." How-
ever, when Cranch died in 1892, Curtis wrote, "He was of
that choice band who are always true to the ideals of youth,
and whose hearts are the citadels which conquering time
assails in vain."
PARKE GODWIN AND ZSCHOKKE's TALES. 289
To the social and philosophical character of the first two
stories Jack Steam stands in striking contrast. It may be
defined as an extravaganza in folk-humor, satirizing the
narrowness and pedantry of the citizen in small towns and
the frivolity of court life in the duodecimo principality. I
conjecture from its character that this is the story which
Godwin took from a newspaper. I have not discovered it
elsewhere, and hardly think that it can come from Godwin's
pen, for it is literally honeycombed with inaccuracies and
mistranslations. Coming from so many different sources,
the versions of these stories naturally differ widely in
quality. On the whole, however, it may be said that the
Brook Farmers are not model translators. Their inability
to speak German has caused them to miss the real import
of many idiomatic expressions. On the other hand, they
were men of decided literary taste, and in the majority of
cases they give us a good story in good English, although
their works cannot always pass as faithful reproductions of
the original.
Jack Steam is followed by that charming historic idyll,
Floretta, or the First Love of Henry IV. This story touches
on the evil consequences of social inequality, one of Zschokke's
favorite themes. It portrays in the simplest manner the love
affair of Henry IV with a gardener's daughter and its fatal
consequences to the latter. It is to be regretted that Godwin
did not republish this story when he edited a second edition
of the Tales in 1889. This translation, I conclude, is by God-
win himself, although another version of it by G. F. Struve
had appeared in the Southern Literary Messenger in 1843.
A careful comparison has failed to reveal any connection
between the two. In 1846 this story appeared again in
vol. 10 of the Parlor Novelist, a Belfast (Ireland) serial
which was published in 1846-47.
The last story in Part I is the Adventures of a New Year's
290 JOHN PKESTOX HOSKINS.
e,1 the tale which perhaps will prove the most enduring
of the Zschokke productions. Godwin did not translate
this, but took it from Blackwood's Magazine of May, 1837.
The English translator shows a decided tendency to lapse
into elegance of diction, which is relieved, in the scenes
between the police and night watchmen, by a dash of
' cockney.' Godwin has removed the latter and brought
the whole nearer to the simplicity and directness of the
original. From the article on Zschokke in Tait's Edinburgh
Magazine (1845) we learn that this story was very popular
in England and furnished the materials for a farce at one
of the London theatres.
Illumination, or the Sleep-Walter, a tale of clairvoyancy,
the first story of Part II, leads us into the region of the
mysterious and supernatural. An age which lays exclusive
emphasis on the psychical or spiritual element in man's
nature is very prone to seek for supernatural manifestations
of this mysterious element. Transcendentalism brought a
number of fads — such as spiritualism, mesmerism, animal
magnetism, etc. — in its wake. A glance at the literature of
this period reveals tales of somnambulism, wonderful visions,
mysticism, witchcraft, and the like. Many of these stories
were translated and published in America, as we have
noticed above ; and Poe's tales, it may be observed in passing,
though infinitely superior in everything that pertains to artis-
tic workmanship, were likewise the children of a transcenden-
tal age. Zschokke himself believed that he possessed the power
of clairvoyancy, and in his Verkldrungen (sometimes known
as Hortensia) he has wandered into the misty region of the
supernatural.
That Godwin and his wife were deeply impressed by these
1As early as 1821 Wilkens, p. 142 and Appendix, 172, cites a transla-
tion made by Tobias Watkins in Baltimore, in Tales of a Tripod; or a
Delphian Evening.
PABKE GODWIN AND ZSCHOKKE's TALES. 291
stories appears from the fact that they had already translated
the Verkldrungen, under the title of The Sleep- Waker, and
published it in Boston in 1842. That Godwin was the trans-
lator of this story follows from a book notice in the Democratic
Review (February, 1843), which states that the Sleep- Waker
was by the same translator as the Fool of the Nineteenth
Century (Democratic Review, 1842), the text of which is
identical with that of the same story in Godwin's collection.
Godwin himself is also responsible for The Broken Cup,
or, as it is more correctly translated in the 1889 edition,
The Broken Pitcher, unquestionably the best of Zschokke's
humorous pieces. In spite of some lapses from the simple
into a literary tone, Godwin has on the whole well pre-
served the serio-comic character of this story with all its
shortness and crispness. It probably deserves to rank as
the best of his own translations.
The version of Jonathan Frock contained in this collection
we owe to Gustave C. Hebbe. This is a story which hinges
on the ever present question of Jewish social disability. As
a translation it is by far the best in the whole book. Hebbe
was evidently a master of both German and English, and
his work shows no signs of that struggle with a resisting
medium which is so noticeable in many of the others. He
is also the translator of The Princess of Wolfenbuttel, which
was published in the Omnibus of Modern Romance (New
York, 1844). We hear of him later also as the aspiring
author of a Universal History. Jonathan Frock was one of
the popular favorites. In 1846 it appears in Belfast as a
contribution to the Parlor Novelist, and four years later is to
be found in vol. VI of the People's Journal (London, 1850).
Fannie Bryant Godwin contributed the next tale, The
Involuntary Journey. This story, in epistolary form, of the
misfortunes of a count who leaves a ball-room in Moscow
during the Napoleonic invasion to fetch his sister's pearl
292 JOHN PRESTON HOSKINS.
necklace and through the vicissitudes of war is carried off
to France and Spain, is one of Zschokke's weakest produc-
tions. It was evidently not popular, for I have found no
mention of it elsewhere.
The last story of the collection, however, is one which
was probably translated oftener than any other. It is The
Vicar of Wiltshire, and Zschokke's pathetic tale is said to
have been occasioned by the same Journal of a Vicar in
Wiltshire, published in the British Magazine (1766), which
led Goldsmith to write his Vicar of Wakefield. In a note
Godwin informs us that his version is based on two previous
translations, that of Mrs. Ellet in a New York magazine —
I conjecture the New York Review — and the Reverend W.
H. Furness's translation, which first appeared in The Gift
(1844), one of those "richly embellished" annuals of the
period. This was later incorporated into Hedge's Prose
Writers of Germany.
Still another translation by S. A. (Sara Austen) was
printed in the Southern Literary Messenger for October, 1843.
This version was made in England, if my conjecture as to
the translator is correct. The same story turns up again
in that collection of Zschokke's tales already mentioned,
Journal of a Poor Vicar, The Walpurgis Night and other
Stories (Philadelphia, 1845), which probably comes from
the pen of "W. H. Furness. Its immense popularity is further
attested by the book announcement of The Gift in the Southern
Quarterly Review for 1844. The writer remarks: "We
may mention to the editor, however, that the article from
Zschokke, 'The Journal of a Poor Vicar/ though very
pleasant reading, has been too frequently translated and
republished in this country not to be sufficiently well known
to the reader."
In 1889 Godwin was called upon to reedit a little volume
of Zschokke's tales for the " Knickerbocker Nugget " series
PAEKE GODWIN AND ZSCHOKKE's TALES. 293
which G. P. Putnam's Sons were then publishing. Over
forty years had passed since the first edition had been put
into the hands of the public. Transcendentalism had com-
pleted its task of bridging the chasm between the mechanical
theories of the 18th century and the great organic conception
of the universe which was destined to control the thinking of
the last quarter of the 19th. The all-comprehensive idea
of evolution was teaching men that the hope of transforming
society otherwise than by the slow process of gradual change
was vain. Accordingly Godwin winnowed the chaff from
the wheat. He rejected all those stories which smacked
of the social reforms and vagaries of transcendentalism, and
for the new edition chose only three of the old : The Adven-
tures of a New Year's Eve, The Broken Pitcher, and Jonathan
Frock, stories which for their literary merit could be accepted
as classics.
To these were added a fourth story, Walpurgis Night,
translated by William P. Prentice. This study in the
uncanny and horrible, which reminds us of Poe or Hoffmann,
with its moral lesson on the blessings of a pure heart and
sound conscience, was also a popular story. It is to be
found in the collection, Journal of a Poor Vicar, etc., which
has just been mentioned. In 1850 an adaptation of the
story, under the title Phantasies of Walpurgis Night, was
published in Tait's Edinburgh Magazine, and still another
translation is to be found as late as 1870 in Temple Bar.
This version was reprinted in the Eclectic Magazine for the
same year. Mr. Prentice, the translator of the story in
Godwin's collection, informs me that his version was made
independently of these others. His letter throws still more
light on the Zschokke vogue. He himself translated other
Zschokke stories which have never been published, and he
distinctly remembers that George W. Curtis also turned two or
three into English, which likewise were not destined to see
7
294 JOHN PRESTON HOSKINS.
the light of publicity. It is interesting to note in closing
that these four stories seem to have found a permanent place
in American literature. At the beginning of the 20th
century they had been republished as one of the "Ariel
Booklets" by the Putnams.
The subsequent history of the Zschokke Tales can be
briefly told. My researches have brought to light at least
a dozen other translations besides those already mentioned.
Their history is substantially the same as the foregoing.
The dates and places of their publication, with the names
of the translators so far as they can be determined, can be
seen in the bibliography which will follow this paper as an
appendix. By 1850 Zschokke's popularity had begun to
wane. Between 1850 and 1860 new editions of the old
translations were republished, and one or two new ones
added. Since 1860, so far as I am aware, no new editions,
except that of Godwin, have appeared.
It would be useless to seek for any great literary signifi-
cance in the history of Zschokke's Tales in America. He
was not artist enough to inspire other men with new literary
ideals. But his works, conservative and healthy in tone,
did serve to increase the taste for good reading among the
people, to give popularity to the short story, and to break
down popular prejudice against German philosophy and
German literature.
In conclusion we must refer to another, and in some
respects more important, translation of Godwin's, that of
Goethe's Diolitung und Wahrheit, published in 1846. This
book brings us back to the Brook Farmers again. Only
the first five books were done by Godwin. John Henry
Hopkins, son of Bishop Hopkins of Vermont, was responsi-
ble for the second five, while his Brook Farm friends,
Charles A. Dana (who had taught German and Greek there)
and John S. Dwight, completed the remaining ten books.
PARKE GODWIN AND Z6CHOKKEJS TALES. 295
This was the first translation of Goethe's autobiography into
the English language, for the Memoirs of Goethe, which was
an English version of a French translation, was so garbled
that it is unworthy of the name. This American transla-
tion, as H. S. White informs us in his article, Goethe in
America (Goethe Jahrbuch, 1884), was subsequently sold to
Bohn in London, and after revision by Oxenford now holds
its place as the standard English version of the great poet's
autobiography.
But Godwin's service is not merely to have added a
few tales and a celebrated autobiography to the store of
English literature. All his life he kept in touch with
German literary and philosophic development, and through
reviews, essays, and addresses interpreted its significance to
his fellow countrymen. Before Emerson's famous essay on
Goethe was published (1850), Godwin's critical insight and
sense of justice had already assigned to the great poet the
place in modern civilization which the world has since
accorded him. And in one of his last essays on the Germans
in America (Liber Scriptorum of the Authors' Club, New
York, 1893) he pays a noble tribute to German research,
German criticism, German philosophy, and German music.
The enthusiasm for the ideals which had inspired his youth
flashes out again in the opening paragraph of this essay, and
with it I shall close this paper : " Goethe means the German
race, and as Homer meant Greece, Dante meant the Middle
Ages, as Shakespeare meant awakening, world-exploring
England, so the German race means the highest aspirations
and attainments of the modem world."
JOHN PEESTON HOSKINS.
296 JOHN PRESTON HOSKINS.
APPENDIX.
The following bibliography of Zschokke translations is
based on a consultation of the following : —
Eoorbach' s Biblioiheca Americana: Catalogue of American Publications,
1820-1852.
Catalogue of the Library Company, Philadelphia, 1856.
Catalogue of American Publications, 1876. f -
Printed Catalogues of :
Library of Congress.
Peabody Museum, Baltimore.
Mercantile Library, Philadelphia.
Astor Library, New York.
Lenox Library, New York.
Boston Athenaeum.
British Museum.
Also a number of Private Libraries, such as Cambridge, Mass., High School.
Indexes and Book Announcements in :
North American Review, 1820-1851.
Democratic Review, 1835-1852.
American Review, 1845-1851.
Southern Literary Messenger, 1838-1851.
Southern Quarterly Review, 1842-1851.
Metropolitan Magazine, 1836-41.
Ta.it' s Edinburgh Magazine for 1834, 1835, 1838, 1840, 1844, 1845, 1847.
(A complete file of this magazine could not be found in New York. The
volumes consulted belong to Princeton University Library. )
Blackwood's Magazine, up to 1857.
London Quarterly Review, 1830-1850.
People's Journal (London), 1850.
(Only one volume attainable.)
Poole's Index: Of value where the title of the story is known.
Allibone' a Dictionary of Authors, also of value when the translator is known.
The German titles of the Tales are taken from the First Edition of
Goedecke's Grundriss, and only the date of the first appearance is given.
Goedecke is not particularly full in regard to Zschokke.
An exhaustive bibliography of Zschokke translations would be well-nigh
an impossibility at present. If the statements of book reviewers of the
time are correct, his stories appeared frequently in weeklies and even
dailies. Few of these can now be found, and none of them are indexed.
PARKE GODWIN AND ZSCHOKKE's TALES. 297
Indeed, some of the magazines mentioned are now seldom to be found
in complete sets. The present bibliography is therefore as complete as the
author can hope to make it with the means at his command. English
translations have been given because their presence in American Libraries
show that these works were also known in America.
1. ARTICLES ON ZSCHOKKE.
Chamber's Journal, Edinburgh, 1845, repeated in Eclectic Magazine, 8,299.
Democratic Review, 1845, by Parke Godwin ?
London Quarterly Review, 21, 1.
Tail's Edinburgh Magazine, N. S. 12, 1845.
A brief account of some instances in the Life of Zschokke, by J. Craw-
ford Woods, Adelaide, Australia, 1863. (British Museum.)
2. GERMAN EDITIONS IN AMERICA.
Zschokke' s Werke : 46 vols. Pap. at 10 and 20 cte. per vol. F. W.
Thomas, Philadelphia. No date. For titles of sepa-
rate volumes see Catalogue of American Publications,
1876.
Novellen und Dichtungen : 3 vols. F. W. Thomas, Phila-
delphia. No date.
Novellen und Dichtungen : 7 Auflage ; Aarau und New York.
At New York by William Eadde. 1845? (Library
of Congress. )
The Same : llte Vermehrte Ausgabe. In commission bei
William Radde. New York. 1859. (Library of
Congress. )
Stunden der Andacht : Kohler, Philadelphia. No date. (See
Catalogue of American Publications, 1876. )
Der Tote Gast, eine Erzahlung. New York, 1839. (Astor
Library. )
3. TRANSLATIONS.
Absellino, the Bravo of Venice. A. Romance. ( Abiillino der grosse Bandit.
Frankfurt und Leipzig, 1794.) Translated from the German
by M. G. Lewis. London, 1805, 1809 (6th ed.), 1830, 1856,
1857. (British Museum. )
The Same : Boston, 1840, Boston Public Library.
Absellino, the Great Bandit. A grand dramatic Eomance in Five Ada.
(Abellino, der grosse Bandit. Ein Trauerspiel nach der Ge-
schichte dieses Namens, Frankfurt a. d. O. 1795.) Translated
from the German and adapted to the New York theatre by
298 JOHN PEESTON HOSKINS.
William Dunlap, Esq., 1800. 4th Edition. New York, 1820,
published by Thomas Longworth, 16°. (Lenox Library. )
Abellino, the Venetian Outlaw. A drama translated from the French.
London? 1805,1806,1820. (British Museum.)
Adventures of a New Year's Night. (Das Abenteuer der Neujahrsnacht
in Die Erheiterungen for 1818.) Blackwootfs Magazine, May,
1837.
The Same : Foregoing revised in Zschokke's Tales by Parke Godwin.
New York, 1845. Wiley and Putnam. Zschokke's Tales, 1889
and [1900]. G. P. Putnam's Sons, New York.
Alamontade or the Galley Slave. (Alamontade der Galeeren-Sclave.
Zurich, 1802.) In Tales from the German, by J. Oxenford
and C. A. Feeling [London, 1844]. (British Museum.)
According to Goedecke's Orundriss, translated in London in
1827.
The Same : translated from the 45th Edition by Jno. T. Sullivan,
Philadelphia, 1845. (Catalogued in the Library Company of
Philadelphia, 1856.)
Autobiography : (Selbstschau, Aarau, 1842). London, 1845. 33rd Part
of "Foreign Library." Chapman and Hall. (Library of Con-
gress. )
The Bean: (Die Bohne, eine Erzahlungen, in Die Erheiterungen, 1811.)
Metropolitan Magazine, London and New York (July), 1838.
The Same : in Walpurgis Night, Journal of a Poor Vicar, and other
stories, [by W. H. FurnessJ, Philadelphia, 1845.
The Broken Cup : See the Broken Pitcher.
The Broken Pitcher : (Der zerbrochene Krug, in Die Erheiterungen, 1813)
translated by Parke Godwin in Zschokke's Tales, New York,
1845. Wiley and Putnam. Also in Tales by Zschokke, by P.
G., 1889 (G. P. Putnam's Sons : Knickerbocker Nugget Series.)
Eeprinted as Ariel Booklet [1900].
The Canary Bird : See Story of Fritz, the bird catcher.
The Creole : (Der Creole. Eine Erziihlung, Aarau, 1830) published by
W. H. Colyer, New York, 1836. (Cited by Eoorbach.)
The Dead Guest : (Der tote Gast, cited by Goedecke first in vol. xvin of
Sammtliche Ausgewahlte Schriften, Aarau, 1824-28). Published
by Radde, New York. (Catalogue of American Publications,
1876.)
The Same : translated by G. C. McWhorter. D. Appleton & Co.,
New York. (Catalogue of American Publications, 1876.)
Floretta, or the First Love of Henry IV. (Florette oder die erste Liebe
Heinrichs IV, Die Erheiterungen, 1818, L. Weber unterzeich-
net) translated from the German of Henry Zschokke by G. F.
Struve. Southern Literary Messenger, 1843.
PARKE GODWIN AND ZSCHOKKE's TALES. 299
The Same : translated by Parke Godwin, in Zschokke's Tales, New
York, 1846.
The Same : in Parlor Novelist, vol. 10. Belfast, 1846. (Probably
Godwin's or Struve's Translation. )
Florian, the Fugitive of the Jura (Der Fliichtling im Jura, 1824, in Bilder
aus der Schweiz, Aarau, 1824-26) in Miss M. M. Montgomery's
Lights and Shadows of German Life. London and Philadelphia,
1833.
The Same : in Incidents of Social Life amid the European Alps.
Translated by L. Strack, 12°, New York, 1844. (Boston
Athenaeum. ) Keprinted in 1845 under the title : A Fool of the
Nineteenth Century, and other stories.
A Fool of the Nineteenth Century (Ein Narr des 19ten Jahrhunderts, in
Eheinisches Taschenbuch, 1822), translated by [Parke Godwin]
in Democratic Review, October, 1842.
The Same : the foregoing in Zschokke's Tales by Parke Godwin,
New York, 1845.
The Same : Oliver Flyeln, a Fool of the Nineteenth Century, in
Incidents of Social Life amid the European Alps, translated by
L. Strack, New York, 1844.
A Fool of the Nineteenth Century and other stories, New York, 1845. See
Incidents of Social Life, etc.
The Free Court of Aarau ; see Veronica.
Fritz, the Bird Catcher ; see Story of Fritz, the Bird Catcher.
The Galley Slave ; see Alamontade.
Goldenthal : (Das Goldmacherdorf, Aarau, 1817) a tale translated from
the German. London, 1833. (British Museum. )
Goldmaker's Village, translated from the German. Burns, London, 1845.
(British Museum. )
The Same : G. S. Appleton, Philadelphia, 1845. (Eoorbach.)
The Same : in Chamber's Miscellany of Instructive and Entertain-
ing Tracts, Edinburgh and London. No date. (Catalogue of
Cambridge, Mass., High School.)
Harmonius : (Harmonius, in Vignetten, Basel, 1801) translated by Christo-
pher Pearse Cranch in Zschokke's Tales, by Parke Godwin,
New York, 1845.
History of the Invasion of Switzerland by the French. (Not cited by
Goedecke. ) London, 1803. (Library of Congress.)
(Popular) History of Switzerland (Des Schweizenlands Geschichten fur
das Schweizervolk, Aarau, 1822, 5te Aufl., 1834). From the
German with the author's subsequent alterations of the original
work. Translated by [W. H. Howe]. Frankfurt a, M.
1833.
(Popular) History of Switzerland : Boston, 1834. (Library of Congress.)
300 JOHN PRESTON HOSKINS.
The Same : with a continuation to the year 1848, by F. G. Shaw,
New York, 1855. Reprinted 1875. (Library of Congress. )
The Same: Mason, Boston. (No date.) (Catalogue of American
Publications, 1876. )
Hortensia : (Die Verklarungen, in Die Erheiterungen, 1814).
Also called : Illumination or the Sleep- Waker, a tale from the
German 'translated by [Parke Godwin and Fanny Bryant Godwin].
Monroe & Co., Boston, 1842.
The Same : in Incidents of Social Life amid the European Alps,
translated by L. Strack, New York, 1844.
The Same : under title : Illumination or the Sleep- Waker in Zschokke's
Tales, by Parke Godwin, New York, 1845.
The Same: Published by J. Winchester, New York (before 1852).
Koorbach.
The Same : under title, Hortensia or the Transfigurations, in A. J.
Davis' Memoranda, 1868. (Astor Library. )
Hours of Devotion : (Stunden der Andacht zur Beforderung wahren Christen-
thums und hiiuslicher Gottesverehrung, 1-8 Jahrgang, Aarau,
1809-1816) translated by Morris Mattson. 2nd American from
the 13th German Edition. Philadelphia, Kay and Brother,
1835.
The Same : translated by Burrows. London, 1838. (Library of
Congress. )
Hours of Meditation and Devotional Reflection : translated from the German
by J. D. Haas, London, 1843, 1847. Eeprinted, London and
Manchester, 1863.
Hours of Meditation and Reflection : Haas's translation. J. S.
Redfield, New York, 1844.
Illumination : see Hortensia.
Incidents of Social Life amid the European Alps. Translated by L.
Strack, New York, 1844. Contains
Florian, the Fugitive of the Jura.
Oliver Flyeln, A Fool of the Nineteenth Century.
Hortensia.
The Same : reprinted in New York, 1845, under the title : A
Fool of the Nineteenth Century and other stories. Translated
by L. Strack.
The Involuntary Journey (Die Reise wider Willen, in Die Erheiterungen,
1814). Translated by Fanny Bryant Godwin, in Zschokke's
Tales, by Parke Godwin, New York, 1845.
It is very Possible. (Es ist sehr moglich, in Die Erheiterungen, 1817. L.
Weber unterzeichnet ) translated in Miss M. M. Montgomery's
Lights and Shadows of German Life. London and Philadelphia,
1833.
PARKE GODWIN AND ZSCHOKKfi's TALES. 301
Jack Steam, the busy-body : (Hans Dampf in alien Gassen, in Die Erheiter-
ungen, 1814) in Zschokke's Tales, by Parke Godwin, New York,
1845.
Jonathan Frock : (Jonathan Frock, in Die Erheiterungen, 1816) trans-
lated by Gustav C. Hebbe, in Zschokke's Tales, by Parke
Godwin, New York, 1845, 1889, 1900.
The Same : translated from the German, in Parlor Novelist. Vol. 10.
Belfast, 1846-47.
The Same : in People's Journal. Vol. 6. London, 1846-51.
Journal of a Poor Vicar : see Leaves from the Diary of a Poor Vicar of
Wiltshire.
Julius : (Julius, oder die zwei Gefangenen, in Genfer Novellen, nach
dem franzosischen, von R. Topffer, Aarau, 1839) in Julius and
other Tales, translated from the German by W. H. Furness,
Philadelphia, 1856.
The Walpurgis Night, Leaves from the Journal of a Poor Vicar,
the Bean, Julius, and other tales from the German. [London],
1856. (British Museum.)
Labor stands on Golden Feet : (Meister Jordan, oder Handwerk hat
goldnen Boden, Aarau, 1848) translated by J. Yeats Cassell,
New York. (Catalogue of American Publications, 1876. )
The Same : London, 1852. 3rd Ed., 1870. (British Museum.)
The Lace Maker of Namur : (Der Blondin von Namur (?), in Die Erheiter-
ungen, 1813.)
According to Tait's Edinburgh Magazine, 1845, p. 436, this
story appeared in England about 1845.
Leaves from the Diary of a Poor Vicar of Wiltshire. A Fragment : (Das
Neujahrsgeschenk aus dem Tagebuch des Armen Pfarr-Vikars
von Wiltshire, in Die Erheiterungen, 1819) translated by S. A.
(Sara Austen) from the German. Southern Literary Messenger,
October, 1843.
Journal of a Poor Vicar : translated by W. H. Furness in The Gift.
Carey and Hart, Philadelphia, 1844.
The Same : by W. H. Furness in Hedge's Prose Writers of Germany,
Philadelphia, 1845.
The Same : in the Journal of a Poor Vicar, the Walpurgis Night and
other stories (byW. H. Furness?) Philadelphia, 1845.
The Same : in The Walpurgis Night, Leaves from the Journal of a
Poor Vicar, the Bean, Julius, and other tales from the German.
London, 1856. ( British Museum. )
The Same : An Abridgment, in Chamber's Miscellany of Useful
and Entertaining Tracts. London, circa 1845.
Leaves from the Journal of a Poor Vicar in Wiltshire : in Zschokke's Tales,
by Parke Godwin, New York, 1845. (Godwin informs us that
302 JOHN PRESTON HOSKINS.
his translation is based on W. H. Furness's and one by Mrs.
Ellet, which appeared in a New York monthly magazine. )
Journal of a Poor Vicar : published by J. S. Taylor, New York,
1852. (Roorbach.)
Lights and Shadows of German Life, by Miss M. M. Montgomery,
London and Philadelphia, 1833. Contains
The Military Campaigns of a Man of Peace.
The Fugitive of the Jura.
It is very Possible.
Lover's Stratagem and other tales : (Wie man lieben muss, or Eros) pub-
lished by Linton, London, 1848. (Library of Congress and
British Museum. )
Marble and Conrad : (? ?) in Incidents of Social Life amid the European
Alps, by L. Strack, New York, 1844.
Meditations on Death and Eternity : translated by F. Eowan, London,
1862, 1863. (Boston Athenaeum.) See Hours of Devotion and
Meditation.
The Military Campaigns of a Man of Peace : (Kriegerische Abenteuer eines
Friedfertigen, in Die Erheiterungen, 1811) in Miss M. M.
Montgomery's Lights and Shadows of German Life. Phila-
delphia, 1833.
New Year's Eve : see Adventures of a New Year's Eve.
Oliver Flyeln : see A Fool of the Nineteenth Century.
Phantasies of Walpurgis Night : see Walpurgis Night.
The Present State of Christianity : (Darstellung gegenwartiger Ausbreitung
des Christenthums auf dem Erdball, Aarau, 1819 ) founded on
a work by J. H. D. Z., London, 1828. (British Museum. )
The Prime Minister ( ? ) : published by J. Winchester. New York, before
1852. (Roorbach.)
The Princess of Wolfenbiittel : ( Die Prinzessin von Wolfenbiittel, Zurich,
1804, 1810) translated from the German by G. C. Hebbe, in
Omnibus of Modern Romance, New York, 1 844. ( Astor Library. )
A Psalm : (Sehnsucht nach dem Schauen des Unsichtbaren, Ein Psalm,
Die Erheiterungen, 1819) translated by C. T. Brooks, in
Christian Examiner, 1851.
Reactions : see Who Governs then?
On the Religious, Moral and Social Duties of Life (see Hours of Devotion) :
translated from the German by J. D. Haas, published by
J. S. Redfield, New York, 1844.
Rose of Disentis : (Die Rose von Disentis, in Aahrenlese, Aarau, 1844)
published by Sheldon, New York. (Catalogue of American
Publications, 1876.)
The Rum Plague, a narrative for the admonition of both old and young :
(Die Brauntweinpest, Eine Trauergeschichte zur Warnung und
PARKE GODWIN AND ZSCHOKKE^S TALES. 303
Lehre fiir Reich und Arm, Alt und Jung, Aarau, 1837, 1838,
1842) published by J. S. Taylor, New York, 1853. (Roor-
bach.)
The Sleep- Waker : see Hortensia.
Story of Fritz, the Bird-catcher and his Canary (? ?): in Chamber's Mis-
cellany of Instructive and Entertaining Tracts, vol. vi, London.
(Catalogue of Cambridge, Mass., High School.)
The Canary Bird and other Tales, originally German, translated
from the French. R. Donahue, Philadelphia, 1836.
Stray Leaves from the German, or Select Essays from Zschokke, translated
by W. B. Flower and E. F. S., Knutsford (Printed), 1845.
(British Museum.)
Tales from the German of Heinrich Zschokke by Parke Godwin : New
York, Wiley and Putnam, 1845.
Part I contains :
Fool of the Nineteenth Century. Translated by Parke Godwin.
Harmonius. Translated by C. P. Crunch.
Jack Steam.
Floretta, or the First Love of Henry IV. By Parke Godwin.
Adventures of a New Year's Eve. (From BlackwoocPs Magazine,
1837. )
Part II :
Illumination ; or the Sleep Waker. By Fanny Bryant Godwin
and Parke Godwin. (See Hortensia. )
The Broken Cup (Pitcher). By Parke Godwin.
Jonathan Frock. By Gustav C. Hebbe.
The Involuntary Journey. By Fanny Bryant Godwin.
Leaves from the Journal of a Poor Vicar in Wiltshire. (Based
on W. H. Furness', and Mrs. Ellet's translations of the same.)
Tales by Heinrich Zschokke : A selection from the foregoing and one
additional tale. By Parke Godwin. New York, 1889, G. P.
Putnam's Sons. Knickerbocker Nugget Series.
Contains : Adventures of a New Year's Eve, The Broken Pitcher,
Jonathan Frock, and Walpurgis Night, translated by William
P. Prentice.
The Same : Reprint of the foregoing. G. P. Putnam's Sons. New
York [1900], in Ariel Booklets.
Veronica ; or the Free Court of Aarau. (Der Freihof von Aarau, in Vols.
25, 26, 27, of Sammt. ausgewiihlte Schriften, Aarau, 1826-28).
Translated from the German of Zschokke by the author of
Giafar al Barmeki (i. e. Samuel Gardiner Spring, Jr.), New
York, 1845. Harper & Bros. Library of Select Novels.
The Same : in Parlor Novelist, vol. xiv, Belfast, 1846-47.
Vicar of Wiltshire : see Leaves from the Diary of a Poor Vicar of Wilt-
shire.
304 JOHN PRESTON HOSKINS.
yillage Mayor : (??) according to the Cambridge High School Catalogue
in Chamber's Miscellany of Interesting and Entertaining Tracts,
vol. vi.
Walpurgis Night : (Die Walpurgis Nacht, in Die Erheiterungen, 1812) in
The Journal of a Poor Vicar, the Walpurgis Night and other
Stories. W. H. Furness (?) Philadelphia, 1845. (Library of
Congress. )
The Same : in The Walpurgis Night, Leaves from the Journal of a
Poor Vicar, The Bean, Julius and other Stories from the Ger-
man. [London.] 1856. (British Museum. )
The same : translated by William P. Prentice in Tales by Heinrich
Zschokke. By Parke Godwin, 1889 (Knickerbocker Nuggets)
and [1900] Ariel Booklets. G. P. Putnam's Sons, New York.
Phantasies of Walpurgis Night : (H. Zschokke) Tait's Edinburgh
Magazine, N. S. 17, 1850.
Walpurgis Night : in Temple Bar 28, 370, 1870, and reprinted
Eclectic Magazine, 41, 516.
Who Governs Then ? A Tale of the Court of Louis XV : (Biickwirkung-
en oder : Wer regiert denn ? in vol. xx of Sammt. ausge-
wahlte Schriften, Aarau, 1824-28) translated by Parke
Godwin (?) in Democratic Review, 1840.
Reactions, or Who Governs Then? in Tait's Edinburgh Magazine
before 1845. (Ace. to article on Zschokke in this Magazine for
1845.)
VII. —THE DETECTION OF PERSONALITY IN
LITERATURE.
Most literary productions are definitely accepted as the
work of bertain men, whose personality is associated with,
and in a measure fixed by, their writings. Cases are not
uncommon, however, in which the originality of a book is
dubious, or its authorship uncertain ; and students of litera-
ture are then called upon to decide whether a work, or a
passage in a work, is the product of one man's brain, or
of another's. In other words, they must determine the
personality back of the written words.
The problem is ultimately psychological. It will be
admitted by all, I suppose, as almost impossible that two
independent writers, with all their inevitable differences in
temperament and education, should look at a subject from
exactly the same point of view, and then express their idea
in exactly the same wording. A coincidence in idea alone
would be unusual enough, and identical terms in addition,
hardly short of miraculous. But in practice the difficulty
of identifying a writer's touch wherever it may appear is
often insurmountable. There are some attributes of exist-
ence in which all men are interested, — love, death, deceit,
loyalty ; and each writer cannot coin new words to represent
those facts. Whenever the author's individuality does not
amount to mannerism, there must often be an approximation
of utterance which defies the critic's power of discrimina-
tion. To settle such questions would require that the critic
penetrate the spirit of his subjects until he can put himself
in their places, can substitute their thoughts for his own ;
a feat hard enough to accomplish with respect to living
persons, whom we meet every day ; and far more difficult
305
306 S. GRISWOLD MORLEY.
with a dead name, whose personality is transmitted to us
very likely chiefly through literary remains, which may
show only one side of the man's real nature. And the
critic's own bias may be such as to warp all his decisions.
These considerations will become more clear in concrete
examples. Disputes concerning personality fall naturally
into two general divisions : first, plagiarism versus origi-
nality, that is, an author's claim to priority of invention in
some phrase, idea or plot which he has used, and second, the
less common but more weighty cases where the real author
of some play, or novel, or essay is unknown, and the claims
of several men are upheld by as many critics.
PART ONE.
The first division, which covers the subject of interinflu-
ence between writers, may be split into its component sections
as follows : (1), similar literary form, specifically, verse form ;
(2), similar word or phrase; (3), similar subject or plot;
and (4), similar mode of thought. I wish to consider these
cases in order, trying to determine what relative value one
can assign to each as proof of plagiarism or lack of originality.
1. The simplest kind of reliance upon the work of another
involves neither words nor ideas, but only external form, the
mould in which the words are run. Such moulds may easily
be traced in their passage from the hands of one to another,
but they are more likely to be the product of a period than
of an individual. Prose forms are in general more loose and
less characteristic than poetic ones, although one can perceive
in the vogue of the essay, the three-volume novel, and the
short story, guiding influences which have bent the natural
tendency of writers. In poetry the exterior is more distinct
in outline, and is reduced to fixed combinations of rime and
PERSONALITY IN LITERATURE. 307
metre, which afford such possibility of variety that one may
well accept identity as proving connection. The sonnet is a
name for a certain very definite order of rimes, and when the
poets of France, Spain and England adopted that form they
were confessedly relying on an Italian invention for part of
their labor. No one thought the worse of them, for they
were not in that depth of degenerate ingenuity to which the
Proven9als descended, by whom a novel scheme of rime or
metre was considered requisite for an original poem. The
skill with which a form is used is our test of ability and the
merit of the invention, — which may be very great, — must
be scattered over a nation. It would be hard, I imagine, to
fix upon any one man the credit for the sonnet, the rondeau,
the ballade, or any other accepted poetic form, though their
dominance may sometimes be established by the brilliant
handling of a single master.
I said that resemblance of poetic forms is as reliable a
proof as exists of the communication of methods from one
to another. Yet even here there may be some coincidences
due to pure chance. A stanza of the 10-line type of ballade,
as used by Villon in the Prayer to ilie Virgin and elsewhere,
has an arrangement of rimes almost identical with that of
the Spanish popular form called the decima, but I do not
know that anyone ever suggested a connection between
them.1 According to the theory generally accepted at present,
however unreasonable it may seem to some, the poetic forms
of the old Spanish and Provencal literatures owe nothing of
their character to the songs of the Spanish Arabs. Yet Baist
says, in comparing an Arabic verse-form with the Spanish
villancico, "Die Ahnlichkeit ist allerdings frappant, dabei
muss aber beachtet werden, dass die gleiche Form sich nicht
nur bei der sifeilischen Dichterschule sondern auch in den
1 The order of rimes in the decima is abbaaccddc ; in the ballade it is
ababbccdcd. The latter is exactly equal to two quintillas.
308 S. GRISWOLD MOELEY.
provenzalischen Dansas wiederfindet." l If it be not possi-
ble to see traces of the Arabic anywhere in Sicily or Provence,
this is a remarkable example of independent development
along similar lines.
2. Similarity of phrasing, which of course implies com-
munity of idea, must be viewed in the light of many modifying
circumstances. If I read in a student's thesis a paragraph
which startles me by its maturity, and if then upon search
I find the passage word for word in a volume of Charles
Dudley Warner's Library of the World's Best Literature, I
do not hesitate to refuse the student credit for his smooth
English. The improbability that he could write so well,
the accessibility of the book, which is on the shelves of the
Union, the exact identity of a long sentence,, everything
points to mere copying. But that is an exceptionally patent
example. Much more often there is room for doubt about
the borrowing.
In these days when the degree of Ph. D. sometimes lends
itself to the interpretation, " doctor of parallel-hunting," the
possibility of chance coincidence of phrase has been almost
excluded. A German critic, Bock, has thus stated his creed :
"Under the circumstances," says he, discussing the possi-
bility that Moli&re copied an obscure Spanish version of the
Amphitryon story, " I think it more natural and simpler to
assume some relation between the respective passages, than
to explain them by chance coincidence, which would be
more remarkable and therefore has less claim to proba-
bility." 2 No doubt, as Bock says, it is easier to affirm
1Gr6ber's Grundriss, II. Band, 2. Abteilung, p. 385.
z Unter den obwaltenden Umstanden, meine ich, ist es natiirlicher und
einfacher an eine Verwandtschaft der betreffenden Stellen zu denken, als
an eine zufallige Uebereinstimmung, was als wunderbarer doch weniger
Anspruch auf Wahrscheinlichkeit hat. N. Bock, in Zts. fur neufr. Spr.
und Lit., vol. x (1888), p. 86.
PERSONALITY IN LITERATURE. 309
"He borrowed," especially when one desires to set up a
theory more attractive in point of novelty than soundness ;
but that should not lead us to untenable conclusions. For
short phrases Bock's working hypothesis seems to me too
radical. It is quite as probable on the face of it that
Moliere and Ferndn Perez de Oliva should have used like
words in treating a subject which both derived from Plautus,
as that the Frenchman should have dug phrases from the
bookish version of a Spanish pedant.
Resemblances are important directly in proportion to the
length of the passage, and to the closeness of parallel in
wording. Each case must be decided on its merits. One
should ask one's self such questions as these : Is the later
author known to have read the earlier ? If not, is it likely
that his course of reading led in that direction? Was it
physically possible for him to know his predecessor's works ?
was he acquainted with the language ? were the books easily
accessible ? either in the original or through some medium ?
Is the common nature of the subject such that similarity of
phrase might well be expected? Does any striking and
unusual word occur in both ? The answers to such queries
may at least create a presumption for or against the borrow-
ing. Thus one might expect to find reminiscences of Virgil
and Horace in an enthusiastic classicist, whilst it would be
folly to search for Homeric phrases in a mediaeval epic.
The middle ground between the two extremes affords plenty
of opportunity for the exercise of careful judgment.
3. The same considerations hold in the broader field of
ideas, which joins that of mere phraseology without any
sharp line of demarcation. From the single conceit, worked
out in one line or one stanza, to the elaborate plot of a Don
Juan play, handed down from one author to another with
trifling changes in detail, the critic, for his own satisfaction,
tries to determine what each owes to his predecessors.
8
310 S. GBISWOLD MORLEY.
In the case of the isolated thought I do not believe it just
to throw the burden of proof on the defendant — the writer
whose originality is questioned. The odds are at least even
that the coincidence is a chance one, until the answers to
some of the questions given above have weighted the scales
on one side or the other. Striking examples of the " effects
of hazard," to use an old play-title, are not lacking. One,
which might equally well have been set in the preceding
section, may be found in the tragi-comedy of Jean Rotrou
called Laure persfaut&e, Act II, scene 5. The heroine says
of herself, after relating the story of her dishonor : —
De ce mortel affront rien ne peut me sauver,
Et la mer n'a pas d'eaux assez pour m'en laver.
Compare these words with those of Leonato to his daughter
in the fourth act of Much Ado about Nothing, scene 1 : —
She is fallen
Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea
Hath drops too few to wash her clean again.
Rotrou' s piece dates from 1637, but he certainly knew
nothing of Shakespeare.1 There is no question of remi-
niscence, conscious or unconscious, on the part of the
Frenchman ; the figurative exaggeration is such as would
suggest itself naturally to the mind of a poet, without need
of foreign stimulation.
Another example : Recently a student of German litera-
ture noticed certain poems of the minnesingers which he
thought resembled some of Goethe's. Upon closer inspection
he became convinced that Goethe had really drawn inspira-
tion for both thought and metre from certain of those
mediaeval lyrics. Thus he had a novel theory well under
way, when he learned, in the course of his investigation,
1 Cf. J. Jarry, Essai sur les Oeuvres de Jean Rotrou, Paris, 1868, p. 92.
Other comparisons of Rotrou with Shakespeare are there made.
PERSONALITY IN LITERATURE. 311
that there was only one collection of minnelieder printed in
Goethe's time, and that the particular poems in question
were not in it ! So the embryo theory was temporarily
checked in its growth by a physical impossibility. But the
student then set himself to examine the poems which Goethe
could have seen, and found other resemblances quite as
serviceable as the first. He continued his theory upon that
basis, and for aught I know it may represent truth. But
one may pertinently ask whether the arguments adduced to
show Goethe's indebtedness to the poems in the collection
would not apply equally well to those not in it ; and, if so,
what conviction arguments can bring with them, which have
already proved valueless in a specific instance. One is
reminded of the conversation which took place between
Lavengro and Parkinson the poet : —
Lavengro : — "Mr. Parkinson, you put me very much in mind of the
Welsh bards."
Parkinson :— " The Welsh what? "
'Bards. Did you never hear of them?"
1 Can't say that I ever did."
' You do not understand Welsh ? "
'I do not."
' Well, provided you did, I should be strongly disposed to imagine you
imitated the Welsh bards. . . . The subjects of hundreds of their com-
positions are the very subjects which you appear to delight in. . . ."
"I can't help it," said Parkinson, "and I tell you again that I imitate
nobody."
It is usually not hard and comparatively safe to trace the
course of a complex plot, especially when there appear in it
names which serve as ear-marks. The more involved the
action, the more unusual and striking the details, with so
much greater certainty may one determine the lineage of an
outline, the dose of originality injected into it by each
re-handler. Take the Don Juan theme, for instance, and
the series of plays and poems each one of which owes its
being to the Burlador de Sevilla, the fountain-head. The
312 8. GRISWOLD MORLEY.
names Don Juan, Elvira, the moving statue, are links which
connect any work of any country with Spanish literature ;
and by the use of them each and every author acknowledges
his indebtedness to the Spaniard who, from whatever sources
he drew his material, established in its broad lines a type.
That some of his followers greatly modified the type and
presented it in more artistic form, there can be no doubt ;
none of them succeeded in concealing the source of his
theme, if indeed any attempted it. So with other stock
subjects, Sophonisba, Iphigenia, Amphitryon, ready-made
stories, which offer to a writer an opportunity to exercise his
skill in workmanship upon a design proved worthy, instead
of inventing a plot of uncertain promise.
Not all stories, to be sure, are so distinctly branded by
name or incident. There must be, I imagine, a broad and
hazy middle ground in the field of folklore, upon which the
critic must pick his way with care. Since all men have a
common basis of experiences, it is reasonable to suppose that
similar stories may arise independently in different quarters
of the globe, just as similar events take place, and similar
lines are written. Must every anecdote of the fickleness of
a bereaved wife be regarded as descending in direct line
from the famous Widow of Ephesus? Anthropologists do
not believe that the myths of deluges and giants which exist
among primitive races everywhere indicate one place of
origin for all, or intercommunication between continents ;
they regard the stories as representative of a certain stage in
the development of man's mind, and therefore likely to
appear spontaneously anywhere on the globe. And in like
manner themes of greater refinement may be only manifesta-
tions of more advanced stages of progress in any part of the
world.
4. The broadest kind of influence is that of a man's
general point of view. Here is no longer a question of
PERSONALITY IN LITERATURE. 313
parallel phrases, or conceits, or incidents, but of a whole
current of thought which a man or group of men has set in
motion. The subject is a vast one and I cannot more than
touch upon it. It would include the influence of Plato, of
Aristotle, upon the world's thought; it would include the
inner history of every literary movement, great or small, as
for example the impetus given to French romanticism by
the Germans, or Gautier's relation to the realists. To
determine the extent of power wielded in each case would
demand extraordinary breadth of knowledge.
For we are not here dealing merely with an external force
acting upon an inert body. One must determine the natural
bent of the one acted upon. It is not impossible that a
thinking man might independently arrive at the same con-
clusions as Plato concerning duty, or adopt of his own
motion an analytical method like Aristotle's. The romantic
tendency in a man might be as much the product of his
own temperament as of the example and writings of a group
of persons with whom he came in contact. In short, the
critic must try to settle, by all the means at his disposal,
the hard problem, whether a writer is carried away by a
current of ideas, or whether he is himself a moving force in
the same direction. Probably something of each enters into
most cases.
PART Two.
I pass now to the second main division of my subject,
which treats of questions of disputed authorship. Such
cases are not exceedingly common in the history of litera-
ture, but they are interesting when they do occur, because
they affect directly our notions about the literary characters
involved. The personality of an author might appear much
modified if the disputed work were definitely assigned to
him.
314 S. GRISWOLD MORLEY.
And, before going farther, it should be noted that we
obtain our chief impression of a dead author from his own
writings. A few men have their Boswells to transmit to
posterity their idiosyncracies in a hundred characteristic
anecdotes, but most often the ultimate mirror of a writer's
character is the product of his pen. The living people with
whom we are acquainted impress us with their personality
not only by what they say, but by their appearance, their
voices, their gestures, their acts. From a multitude of
details we form an idea which we may afterward apply as
a test of authenticity to printed words. Such a criterion is
more accurate than any which can be compiled from the
records of the past. Yet even with such an aid, can one
bind one's self to select unerringly an article by his friend
James Smith from among a dozen others? Has not every-
one experienced that feeling of surprise which comes from
seeing the name of some acquaintance at the bottom of an
article of unexpected merit, and has he not exclaimed "I
never thought Smith was capable of writing that ? " If we
are thus fallible with respect to persons known to us, are
we not much more so when dealing with authors whose acts
are veiled behind the interpretation of biographers, and
whose only means of direct appeal is through printed pages
which may represent only a small per cent, of their real
activity? The probability that some sides of their natures
are hidden from us makes it possible that some one phase,
otherwise unknown, may have been expressed in a work
dissimilar from the rest. A genius has always some unex-
plored recesses of his personality. It is dangerous to say
with assurance, Such a man could not have written this.
No doubt many a critic would have been ready to affirm
that the abbe" PreVost could not have written Manon Lescaut,
if he had not firmly attached his name to the book. And
who, knowing Anatole France only through the wholesome
PERSONALITY IN LITERATURE. 315
charm of le Crime de Sylvestre Bonnard, would ever guess
him capable of the sticky sensuality revealed in la Rdtisserie
de la Heine Pedauque ?
On the other hand, I am not sure that it is not equally
dangerous to use the opposite formula and say : " No one
but such a man can have written this." The expression
is a familiar one. "Who but Mendoza can have written
Lazarillo de Tormes?" is a question which was long con-
sidered final. " Who but Cervantes can have written la Tia
fingida?" — the argument is still thought valid. Perhaps
these stories really are the work of those famous men, but
they may also be single gems of some obscure artist, spurred
on by personal experience or by the example of his betters
to put all his talent into one supreme achievement. So it
was with Fernando de Rojas, of whom not a line is known
outside his master-piece, the Celestina, and the prologues
which accompany it.
Returning now to the main matter, I will state again,
what I do not think anyone will gainsay, that style is an
absolute criterion of authorship. If it is only by a striking
coincidence that two men write a phrase in the same words,
it is inconceivable that they should frame a page of thought
in identical language. Even if the subject were assigned
and carefully laid out in divisions by a third party, no two
men could express it alike. John La Farge tells an incident
which illustrates the fact in the realm of painting, and it
would be just as true in literature. He went out with two
friends, he says, to sketch a landscape, each one intending to
make as nearly as possible a mere photographic reproduction
of what lay before his eyes. And yet, when the sketches
were done, no two were alike. " Two were oblong, but of
different proportions ; one was more nearly a square. In
each picture the distance bore a different relation to the
foreground. In each picture the clouds were treated with
316 8. GRISWOLD MORLEY.
different precision and different attention. In one picture
the open sky was the main intention of the picture. In two
pictures the upper sky was of no consequence — it was the
clouds and mountains that were insisted upon. . . . The
color of each painting was different — the vivacity of colors
and tone, the distinctness of each part in relation to the
whole; and each picture would have been recognized any-
where as a specimen of work by each one of us, characteristic
of our names."
Prof. Van Dyke, who quotes the above story in illustra-
tion of the individuality of style which painters cannot
avoid,1 goes on to comment upon the ease with which an
observer can from a distance pick out familiar hands in a
strange gallery, — tell at a glance a Corot, a Titian, or
a Holbein. And as to literature, he says : " Suppose you
should have read to you extracts from a hundred famous
authors, do you think you would have much difficulty in
recognizing Shakespeare from Victor Hugo, Carlyle from
Cardinal Newman, or Walter Scott from Swinburne ? " No
doubt we could distinguish between the pairs he mentions,
but he has picked out as examples figures among the most
prominent in literature, whose mode of expression is charac-
teristic even to mannerism. A novice in art can detect a
painting in the style of Botticelli or Rubens as far as he can
see it, and a single word might sometimes suffice to identify
Carlyle, but the problem is not always so easy as that.
When it conies to fixing the assignment of a picture to
Rubens or one of his pupils, the best critics may disagree,
and the most microscopic study of the brush-strokes hardly
bring a solution. Giorgione and Titian were painters of
very unlike temperament, yet to-day nobody knows which
one of them painted the famous work in the Pitti gallery,
1 J. C. Van Dyke, The Meaning of Pictures, N. Y., 1903, p. 35, note.
PERSONALITY IN LITERATURE. 317
entitled The Concert. The European galleries are full of
paintings of uncertain authenticity, and many an art-critic
has established a reputation by reversing the judgment of
centuries on the strength of the painting of a finger.
In the field of literature there is not so much uncertainty,
but the principle is the same. It is true I have heard the
statement made that one should be able to fix the date of a
piece of writiug within ten years, by style alone. I do not
remember that the gentleman who made the statement
offered to perform the feat himself in all cases with absolute
accuracy, though he is undoubtedly as well equipped for it
as anyone. That would mean that he must not only dis-
tinguish between writers, but he must differentiate the styles
of the same man at different ages. Could he tell a letter of
Voltaire's written in 1750 from one dated 1760, apart from
their matter ? I should incline to doubt it.
But that would be a self-imposed task of unnecessary
difficulty, and really outside the subject. If it is possible
always to detect a writer's individuality through his words
that is quite enough. Unquestionably this is often possible.
If Rudyard Kipling and Swinburne were both to describe a
white billiard ball, it would probably be easy to fit each set
of words with the right author ; and the broader the scope
afforded by the subject the greater would be the divergence.
It would be as impossible for the two versions to be just
alike in phrase as it would be impossible that a tracing of
Mr. La Farge's sketch, laid upon his friend's, should coin-
cide with it, line for line, throughout. But sometimes the
choice lies, not between two, but among many; and the
candidates may not be as unlike in temperament as Kipling
and Swinburne. Then it is that style becomes a standard
as dubious as the critics who interpret it are various in their
ideas ; the fault, however, lies not in the standard, which is
infallible, but in the knowledge of the critics, which is
318 8. GBISWOLD MOKLEY.
incomplete. So in newspaper articles evidences of indi-
viduality are either non-existent or imperceptible. Students
of literature seldom have to consider the work of reporters,
but sometimes the problem before them is no less great.
In periods of production in which the spirit of the times
casts into the shade individual differences, periods like those
of the Proven9al lyric or the Spanish drama of the siglo de
oro, there is a great deal of confusion as to authors. Look
over a catalogue of Spanish plays from 1600 to 1650, and
see the number of titles followed by a mark of interroga-
tion. Many of them are of insignificant value, and not
worth controversy, but others are among the most brilliant
dramas of the age. From a list which includes the Burlador
de Sevitta itself one may select as the most noteworthy
example el Condenado por deseonfiado, a play usually assigned
to the friar Tellez. Without going into details in the matter,
it may be said that there are no certain data which confirm
his authorship. Menendez y Pelayo, while admitting that
the style is not like Tellez's, thinks the play his because
only a friar knew enough theology to conceive the fine scho-
lastic distinctions upon which its plot is based. Men6ndez
Pidal accepts Tellez as the author without discussion. So
weighty an authority as Baist, however, declares the play
certainly not Tellez's.1 Unless some bit of evidence now
hidden comes to light, the matter will probably never be
settled to the satisfaction of all, and yet the play is anything
but commonplace. The plot is unusual and fraught with
meaning, the versification careful and varied, the characters
subtle, the feeling profound; it was written, I feel sure, by
one hand alone, and that a master's. Who was he ? Who
can so subtly divine the characters of all the dramatists of
that day as to solve the riddle ?
1 Grober's Grundriss, II. Band, 2. Abteilung, p. 465.
PERSONALITY IN LITERATURE. 319
Another interesting case is offered us in the recent con-
troversy concerning le Paradoxe 8ur le comedien. A dialogue
always ascribed to Diderot, and even thought one of his
most characteristic performances, it was suddenly taken from
him by a French critic and assigned to a relatively obscure
publicist named Naigeon, on the strength of a new manu-
script in the tatter's handwriting. Some defend Diderot's
claim, others declare it had always seemed suspicious to
them. Finally comes a critic, more painstaking and more
perspicuous than the rest, who restores the dialogue to
Diderot with some appearance of definitiveness ; basing his
argument on what may be termed purely mechanical grounds,
quite apart from any question of style.1 If style furnishes a
safe guide to authorship, the question ought to have been
settled beyond a doubt on that basis. Does anyone believe
that both Diderot and Naigeon were capable of writing le
Paradoxe sur le comedien? Surely not; the difficulty lay
with the critics, who were not possessed of data enough or
delicacy of perception sufficient to detect the personality
behind the work.
It is not that the personality is a weak one. Dante
certainly possessed an individuality as powerful as any in
the annals of literature ; unique, striking, which seemingly
left its impress upon everything which it touched. It is not
that the personality succeeds but weakly in making itself
felt through its medium of communication. Dante was one
of the greatest of all masters of language, moulding it to his
thought with marvellous skill. Yet no critic will affirm
with absolute certainty that he did or did not write il Fiorc,
and there are numerous sonnets and ballate published with
his works, the genuineness of which is in dispute. The fact
is that style alone, however infallible in theory, can never
1 See Mod. Lang. Notes, March- April, 1904, p. 97.
320 S. GKISWOLD MOELEY.
be accepted as proof positive by the common run of men.
The critics competent to pass on such a matter must be few
in number, for they must have imbued themselves to the
marrow with the spirit of their author by long and intimate
association. Perhaps a single man, thus equipped, may
have settled the question in his own mind ; he may see in a
writing evidences of a man's handiwork which convince him
utterly; and he may be right; but he can never convince
the world of scholars, because the world demands evidence
more ponderable than a turn of speech, more tangible than
a favorite subtlety of thought.
CONCLUSION.
The conclusions to be drawn from the foregoing considera-
tions are, I think, chiefly three.
1. The fact that the same phrase appears in authors hav-
ing no special connection is not sufficient proof that one
copied from another.
2. In judging matters of interinfluence and authorship,
the most mechanical evidence is the most weighty ; wording
is less subject to wrong interpretation than idea, and tangible
extrinsic facts are to be preferred to arguments based on
spirit or style.
3. There is always reason to distrust an individual
opinion on a question involving an author's personality.
The critic's own bias inevitably sways the balance. Hence
problems which depend for their solution on subjective
evidence can never be considered definitely settled.
I have not even considered the matter, entirely distinct,
of plagiarism in relation to an author's merit. I doubt if
there are many writers in the history of literature whose
reputations have suffered extensively from the borrowings
PERSONALITY IN LITERATURE. 321
with which they are charged. Neither are there many
works of real importance which are still at large without
known sponsors. That is the same as saying that the
matters under discussion are merely themes for academic
curiosity, without much practical import. Yet they afford
the student an excellent opportunity for the exercise of care,
acute perception, and sound judgment.
S. GRISWOLD MORLEY.
VIII.— SOURCES OF THE LAY OF YONEC.
The lay of Yonec is composed of 562 lines of eight
syllables, riming in couplets. The substance of this charm-
ing lay of Marie de France is as follows : l —
There lived in Britain an old knight, who was so jealous
of his young wife's beauty that he confined her in a tower
and placed her under the care of his sister, an aged
widow. The knight passed his time in the chase, while his
young wife had no solace but in her tears. One morning
in April, after he had set off on his usual occupation, the
fair lady began her lamentations as she was wont to do.
She execrated the hour when she was born, and the avarice
of her parents, who had married her to an old jealous
tyrant. She said that she had heard that gallant knights
and beautiful and affectionate mistresses used to meet, with-
out blame, and prayed that God might grant her a similar
adventure. Scarcely had she finished this request when a
large falcon, entering her room, was gradually transformed
into a young and handsome knight. . The lady was frightened
at first, but the knight, asking her not to be alarmed, told
her that he had long known and loved her, and that he
could never have made her this visit, if she had not first
expressed a desire to see him. The young woman then
indicated her willingness to accept him as her lover, pro-
vided he was a Christian. Thereupon the knight convinced
her of his faith in God, and they considered themselves as
man and wife. At the moment of separation the gallant
lover told his fair mistress that whenever she expressed an
ardent desire to see him he would instantly be at her side,
1See Die Lais der Marie de France, herausgegeben von Karl Warnke.
Halle, 1900, pp. 123-145.
322
SOURCES OF THE J.AY OF YONEC. 323
but predicted that the old woman who guarded her would
finally betray their love. On his return from the chase, the
jealous old man discovered in the features of his young wife
traces of unusual satisfaction and delight, whereupon he
commanded his sister to conceal herself in his wife's apart-
ment in order to find out the cause of her great joy. After
learning that this remarkable change in the conduct and
appearance of his wife was due to the visits of the falcon,
he placed before the window a trap composed of sharp steel
arrows, and went to the chase as was his custom. Soon
after his departure, his wife summoned Muldumarec, her
lover, in the usual manner. He flew at once to the window,
but before entering her room was wounded by the arrows.
Thereupon, taking leave of his mistress, he announced to
her that she would give birth to a son, whom she should
call Yonec, and that this son would be the avenger of his
parents. He then hastily departed through a window,
followed by his mistress, who, guided by the trace of his
blood, finally reached the castle where he lived. He there
gave her a gold ring, and told her that, while she kept it,
she would escape the persecution of her jealous husband.
He also gave her his sword, asking her to deliver it to his
son when he should be dubbed a knight. The bird-man
soon died of his wounds and the lady delivered the sword to
Yonec at the tomb of his father, as she had been requested
to do. After receiving the sword and learning the history
of his parents, Yonec slew his step-father and became king
of the country and hero of the tale.
I. PREVIOUS TREATMENT.
1. Reinhold Kohler, in his remarks on the lay of Yonec
in the introduction to Warnke's1 edition of the lays of
1 See op. cit., pp. cxxii-cnvi.
324 OLIVER M JOHNSTON.
Marie de France, mentions a number of similar tales, but
does not enter minutely into a discussion of the different
motifs of the lay. No special attempt is made to show
which of the various stories cited by him could have been
used in the composition of the legend as related by Marie.
2. Toldo, in an article recently published in the Roman-
ische Forschungen,1 calls attention to stories resembling parts
of the lay of Yonec in Russian and Oriental literature. He
refers to the knight who had long loved the young woman
in the tower without having seen her, and could not visit
her until she manifested a desire to see him, citing in this
connection several Oriental tales in which two persons, after
having seen each other in a dream, fell in love without
having known each other.2 However, in none of these
stories does the lady have the power of summoning her
lover to her side as in the lay of Yonec.
Toldo also refers to the Indian story of the Fan Prince,3 in
which a young woman causes a prince to come from a distant
land by the use of a magic fan. The prince is wounded by
means of pieces of broken glass placed on the bed in which
he lies, whereupon he disappears and returns to his realm ;
1 See vol. xvi, pp. 609-629.
JSee op. cit., p. 521 : "Dans le livre des Hois du poete person Firdusi,
Zal et la belle Tehmineh se prennent d' amour 1'un pour 1'autre sans s'etre
jamais vus. Firdusi conte aussi que Ketayuna, fille de 1'empereur de Con-
stantinople, voit Gushtasp, pour la premiere fois, dans un reve et le
reconnalt ensuite au milieu de sa cour, et la meme histoire est raconte'e par
Giami, d, propos de Zalikha, qui voit son Yusuf dans son sommeil et se
prend e"galement d' amour pour lui. C'est la une legende re'pe'te'e dans le
Roman de Odati et Zariadre compose" par Carete de Mithilene d'apres les
recits des soldats mace'doniens revenus de la Perse et dans 1' histoire de
Striangee et Zairinaie d'origine orientale tr§s ancienne. Dans 1' Occident
1'aventure a e"t£ attribute, comme tout le monde sait, & Jauffr4 Kudel et a
Melisande comtesse de Tripoli ; un re"cit pareil explique comment Durmart
s'e"prit de la reine d'Irlande ; a son tour Else de Brabante fait la connais-
sance de Lohengrin, de la meme maniere."
3 See op. cit., p. 621.
SOURCES OF THE LAY OF YONEC. 325
there he is found and healed by his mistress, to whom he is
afterwards married. It will be observed that in this tale
the prince comes in human form, while in the lay of Marie
de France he comes in the form of a bird.
However, the legend that recalls the story of Yonec in
almost all of its details, according to Toldo, is found in
Russia under the title Le faucon resplendissant.1 In this
tale a falcon enters the room of the lady whom he loves and
is suddenly changed into a charming knight. The knight
then goes in and out at the window whenever he wishes to
do so, and the young lady, happy because of her love,
becomes more and more beautiful. Jealous sisters, however,
place broken glass, needles, and sharp knives on the window
through which the bird is accustomed to enter. Thereupon
the knight is wounded and bids farewell to his fiancee,
telling her to seek him in the thirtieth empire, beyond
twenty-seven meadows, and adding that she will wear out
iron sandals and eat bread as hard as stone before she finds
him. The lady sleeps quietly while her lover is suffering.
In her sleep she hears his words, but cannot awake.
However, the next morning when she wakes she notices
blood on the window, and sets out at once to seek herfianct.
On arriving at his palace, she learns that the young prince,
believing that he has been deceived, has already thought of
giving his heart to another. Nevertheless, she throws herself
at his feet, proves her innocence, and is married to him.
While the Faucon resplendissant and the lay of Yonec are
analogous stories, the two tales differ in several important
points. In the first place, the marriage of the bird-man
and the birth of a son who becomes the hero of the story,
which are very important incidents in the lay of Yonec, do
not occur in the Russian story. Furthermore, the Russian
1 See op. cit., p. 628.
9
326 OLIVER M. JOHNSTON.
tale says nothing about the power of the lady to summon
her lover to her side, as in Marie's lay. A third very
important difference lies in the fact that the motif of the
jealous old man who confines his young wife in a tower is
not found in the Faucon resplendissant. Finally, in the lay
of Yonec the bird-man dies of his wounds, while in the
Faucon resplendissant the ending is happy.
II. SOURCES AND COMPOSITION OF THE LAY OF YONEC.
A comparison of our lay with the various tales related to
it shows that the lay represents a fusion of two cycles of
stories with jealousy as the principal motif.
1. Motif of the Jealous Husband.
This motif constitutes the principal theme of the well-
known legend bearing the name Inclusa, according to which
a young wife imprisoned in a tower by a jealous husband is
visited by a lover, who finally succeeds in carrying her off.
In the eighth story of the DolopatJios 1 it is related that
the son of a Roman senator, who despised the love of
women, was so annoyed by the entreaties of friends who
endeavored to persuade him to marry, that he had a stone-
carver cut in stone the image of a beautiful woman and
declared that he would never marry unless he found a lady
as beautiful as the statue. One day some Greeks were
looking at the statue and on being questioned by the
senator's son told him that they knew a young woman in
Greece who was as beautiful as the stone image, but that she
was imprisoned by her jealous husband in a tower by the
sea. The handsome youth sailed to the tower and after
1 See edition by Brunet and Montaiglon. Paris, 1856, vv. 10, 324-11,
218.
SOURCES OF THE LAY OP YONEC. 327
finding that the lady was the most beautiful creature in the
world, avowed his love for her. He then obtained per-
mission from the lord of that country to build a castle near
the tower in which the fair lady was imprisoned and had an
underground passage constructed which communicated with
her room. By means of this passage he visited her secretly
for some time and finally carried her to Rome with him.
This legend occurs with slight variations in the various
versions of the popular collection of stories known as the
Historia septem sapientum or the Sept sages.1 That it was
also well known to the conteurs from whom Marie de France
heard the stories related in her lays is shown by the fact
that the same tale forms an episode in her lay of Guigemar.3
Guigemar, a valiant knight of Bretagne, who despises
love, is one day chasing a stag in the forest of Liiin. See-
ing a doe with her fawn in a thicket near by, he draws his
bow and shoots at her, but the dart after wounding the doe
rebounds and strikes Guigemar in the thigh. The prophetic
doe then cries out that Guigemar has killed her and tells him
that his wound will never be healed until he has undergone
great suffering for a lover who will have suffered in like
manner for him. Guigemar, then deciding to seek the land
where he shall be healed, rides until he comes to the sea,
where he sees a ship anchored in a harbor. Going on
board, he finds that the ship is without a pilot and that he
has no companions. Nevertheless, the magic vessel soon
bears him to the city where his wound is to be healed. The
lord of that city is an old man who has a young wife of
whom he is exceedingly jealous, and whom he has confined
in a tower where her only companion is a niece. On learn-
ing the history of Guigemar, the lady invites him to the
1 See Modern Language Notes, xvn, 336-37.
3 See w. 209-882.
328 OLIVER M. JOHNSTON.
tower where she tends his wound. They soon avow their
passion for each other, and Guigemar remains with her for a
year and a half. Finally, the lord of the castle learns of
his presence and forces him to go on board the magic ship,
which bears him safely to his native land. At length his
fair mistress escapes from her prison in the tower and is also
borne by the same magic vessel to Bretagne, where, after
some adventures, the lovers are reunited.
After comparing the lay of Guigemar with the eighth
story of the Dolopathos, Lucy Allen Paton x finds certain
resemblances in phraseology, idea, and structure which lead
her to suggest that the two versions probably have an ulti-
mate common source. Whatever may have been the direct
source from which the author of Marie's original derived
the motif of the jealous old man who confines his young
wife in a tower, it seems certain that this motif in the lay
of Yonec as well as in the lay of Guigemar was taken from
the Inelusa.2
2. Motif of the Bird-man.
The episode in which a lady is visited by a bird that is
suddenly transformed into a handsome youth, and a son
is born who becomes king of the realm and hero of the
legend, occurs in an early version of the story of the Jealous
Stepmother, in a form similar to that found in the lay of
1See "Studies in the Fairy Mythology of Arthurian Romance " (Had-
diffe College Monographs, No. 13), Boston, 1903, p. 68 :
Guigemar, w. 43-44 Dolopathos, vv. 10, 325-26
11 w. 57-58 " vv. 10, 330-31
" w. 211-212 " w. 10, 408-9
" w. 306-315 " vv. 10, 532-42
" w. 337-352 " vv. 10, 505-28
J For a Proven9al version of the Inclusa, compare Le Roman de Flamenca^
ed. by Paul Meyer, Paris, 1901, vv. 1304 ff.
SOURCES OF THE LAY OP YONEC. 329
Yonec. The Togail Bruidne Daderga, an old Irish legend,
contains the following incident.1 " Cormac mac Airt, King
of Ulster, wedded to the daughter of Eochaid Feidlech,
High King of Ireland, puts her away 'because she was
unfruitful, save that she bore a daughter to Cormac.' He
then weds Etain, a dame from faery, who had been the
lady-love of his father-in-law, Eochaid. ' Her demand was
that the daughter of the woman who had been abandoned
before her should be killed. Cormac would not give her
(the child) to her mother to be nursed. His two servants
took her afterwards to a pit, and she laughed a love laugh
at them when being put into the pit. Their courage left
them. They placed her subsequently in the calf-shed of the
cowherds of Etirscel, the great-grandson of lar, King of
Tara, and these nurtured her till she was a good embroideress ;
and there was not in Ireland a king's daughter more beauti-
ful than she.' She is afterwards possessed by one of the
fairy folk, who comes in to her as a bird and then assumes
human shape, and he tells her that the king, to whom report
of her beauty has been made, will send for her, ' she will be
fruitful from him (the bird-man), and will bear a son, and
that son shall not kill birds.' This happens, and the son
(Conaire Mor) afterwards becomes High King of Ireland,
and is hero of the tale."
In this Irish story, just as in the lay of Yonec, the lady is
visited by a bird that assumes human form, and she gives
birth to a son who becomes king of the country and hero
of the legend. In the Togail Bruidne Daderga version the
lady is confined in a calf-shed, while in the lay she is placed
in a tower. Although it is impossible to say from what
particular version of the Jealous Stepmother tale the lay
derived the motif of the bird-man, it seems fairly certain
Nutt : Folk-Lore. A Quarterly Review of Myth, Tradition, Institu-
tion, and Custom. London, 1891, n, pp. 87-89.
330 OLIVER M. JOHNSTON.
that this story was current in the early legendary history
of Ireland in a form similar to that given above, and we
have every reason to believe that the author of Yonec knew
and used it. The version of the Jealous Stepmother found in
the Togail Bruidne Daderga occurs in a fourteenth century
manuscript, the Boole of Lecan (H. 2.16). However, Alfred
Nutt l says it is almost certain that this episode existed in
the old Irish manuscript, Leabhar n-a h' Uidre, copied at the
end of the eleventh century, since the passages that these
two manuscripts have in common are very similar. Further-
more, according to Professor Zimmer (Y. V. S., 1887, p. 583)
the Book of Lecan version was copied from the Book of
Druim Snechta, a lost manuscript of the tenth or early
eleventh century, and the Book of Druim Snechta was used
by the compiler of L. n-H.
3. Motif of the Wounded Bird.
As has already been seen, the early Irish version of the
Jealous Stepmother found in the Togail Bruidne Daderga does
not contain the incident of the broken glass, or the trap com-
posed of sharp instruments by which the bird is wounded.
This motif occurs, however, in the countess of Aulnoy's story
of the Blue Bird, a seventeenth century reworking of the
tale of the Jealous Stepmother. King Charmant, who by a
malevolent fairy has been transformed into a blue bird, visits
every night his fiancee, the princess Florine, who is confined
in a tower by a jealous stepmother. Finally the stepmother,
learning of these visits, has knives, razors, and daggers fixed
in the branches of a cypress tree near Florine's window,
where the blue bird is accustomed to perch. The bird then
being wounded by the sharp instruments disappears, but is
1 See Folk-Lyre. London, 1891, n, p. 88.
SOURCES OF THE LAY OF YONEC. 331
at length found, in human form and completely healed, in
his own realm, where Florine, after convincing him of her
innocence, is married to him.
The versions of the Jealous Stepmother1 current in the
folklore of to-day also contain the incident of the trap or
snare by which the bird is wounded. In the modern forms
of this folk-tale a young woman, usually the daughter of a
king, persecuted by a jealous stepmother on account of
whom she is rudely separated from the rest of the family, is
visited by a bird that is suddenly transformed into a hand-
some youth in her presence. These visits are continued until
the stepmother, discovering their relations, fixes scissors,
needles, or some sharp instrument in the window where the
bird enters. The bird-man is then wounded and goes back
to his realm. Thereupon the lady sets out to seek him, and
learning on the way the means of curing him, finally finds
him and heals his wounds.
The fact that the motif of the wounded bird occurs in all
the versions that we know of the story of the Jealous Step-
mother, except in the Togail Bruidne Daderga, leads one to
believe that this early Irish version is incomplete and that
the incidents of the snare and the wounded bird were proba-
bly contained in the original form of the legend. The
occurrence of these incidents in the modern versions of the
story, existing in the folk-lore of different countries, points
to the fact that similar incidents probably existed in the
ultimate common source of all these versions.
4. Death of the Bird-man in the Lay of Yonec.
In Marie's lay, Muldumarec, after being wounded by the
arrows placed in the window, hastens to his castle, where his
1See Reinhold Kohler, op. cit., pp. cxxv-vi ; Toldo, op. cit., p. 620,
note 2.
332 OLIVER M. JOHNSTON.
mistress later finds him in great pain. On her arrival he
announces to her that he shall die about noon of that day,
and after giving her a magic ring and placing in her care
his sword destined for Yonee, bids her depart lest, their
relations being known to his subjects, she might be obnox-
ious to them. She has gone only a short distance when she
hears the ringing of the bells which announce the death of
her lord. This sad ending probably represents the form
of the tale of the Jealous Stepmother as it was known at the
time the lay of Yonec was written. In the modern versions
of the legend the wounds of the bird-man are such that
physicians are unable to heal them, but his mistress, follow-
ing him, learns on the way from ravens,1 witches,2 or by
some other means, how she may cure him, and on arriving
at the castle where her lover is suffering and expected to
die, she applies the remedy and heals him. As the healing
motif occurs neither in the Togail Bruidne Daderga, nor in
the lay of Yonee, nor in the Slue Bird, the three oldest
known versions of the Jealous Stepmother, it seems almost
certain that it did not exist in the original form of the
legend, but was added from some other source. The story
of the Fan Prince* which was confused with the Jealous
Stepmother tale, contains this motif, and it was probably from
this story that the modern versions of the Jealous Stepmother
borrowed it. The substance of the story of the Fan Prince
is as follows :
A prince, before setting out on a long voyage, asks six of
his seven daughters what they wish him to bring them on his
return. Some ask for jewels, others for precious stones,
1 See Ddnisehe Volksmarchen. Nach bisher ungedruckten Quellen erzahlt
von Svend Grundtvig. Uebersetzt von W. Leo. Leipzig. 1878, pp. 125-
147.
2 See Toldo, op. cit., p. 620, note 2.
3 See Toldo, op. cit., pp. 621-23 ; Romania, x, pp. 123-24.
SOURCES OF THE LAY OF YONEC. 333
another for a necklace, and still another for silk. The
youngest one, being asked by the prince's messenger, merely
replies by saying Sabr (which means 'wait'). The messenger,
however, thinking this is the name of the article that she
desires, returns to the prince and tells him that his daughter
wants Sabr. The father, on reaching the end of his voyage,
purchases the presents for six of his daughters, and then
goes on board the ship to return home, but the ship will not
move, because he has not kept the promise made to his
youngest daughter. In his search for the Sabr, he finds
that the son of the king of that country is called Sabr.
After hearing the request of the prince's youngest daughter,
the king's son sends her a box containing a fan by means of
which she can summon him to her side whenever she
desires to do so. Love grows apace between them, and the
day that they are married her jealous sisters place pieces
of broken glass on the bed where the prince is to lie,
whereupon he is wounded and returns to his distant
realm. His lady follows him and learns on the way,
from a parrot and a starling, the means by which she
cures him.
The same story with slight variations is found in Italian
folk-lore.1 In this tale the youngest of three daughters
desires that her father, a rich merchant, bring her a vaso di
ruta, a kind of plant. Here again the father forgets his
promise, and when he wishes to return home the ship will
not move until he has fulfilled it. He learns that the king
of the country to which he has gone is the only one who
possesses the plant that he desires. At the request of the
merchant, the king sends the plant to his daughter, instruct-
ing her to burn a leaf every evening. This she does, and
every time she burns a leaf of the plant the son of the king
1 See Romania, x, 122-123.
334 OLIVER M. JOHNSTON.
appears. One evening when she is absent, however, her
jealous sisters put fire to her room and burn the plant with
the rest. The prince comes, as usual, but is badly burned
and also wounded by pieces of glass. On her return, the
merchant's daughter disguises herself as a man and goes in
search of the prince. On her way she learns from an ogre
and an ogress the means by which she cures him.1
The confusion of the legend of the Fan Prince and that
of the Jealous Stepmother probably took place very late,
since the healing motif is found only in the modern versions
of the tale of the Jealous Stepmother. In the lay of Yoneo
the mistress of Muldumarec knows nothing of the art of
healing wounds, and hence the bird-man dies. Likewise, in
the story of the Blue Bird, Florine does not cure King
Charmant, but fortunately, when she finds him, his wounds
have already been healed. In the Portuguese2 version of
this legend the bird is also wounded and dies just as in the
lay of Yonec. In the Portuguese tale, however, the bird
never assumes human form.
The confusion of the story of the Fan Prince with that
of the Jealous Stepmother seems also to account for that
variant of the latter tale in which jealous sisters are sub-
stituted for a jealous stepmother. The substitution probably
represents a blending of themes originally distinct, and
therefore indicates a close association of the two narratives.
In an Italian story entitled King Bean 3 an old man has
three daughters, the youngest of whom loves King Bean
1 For a comparison of the different stories related to the theme of the
Fan Prince compare Romania, x, 117—143.
2 See Portuguese Folk Tales, collected by C. Pedroso, and translated from
the original MS. by Miss Henriqueta Monteiro. London, 1882, No. XH.
3 See Fiabe e Novelle Popolari Veneziane raccolte da Giuseppe Bernoni,
Venezia, 1873, No. xvn ; Italian Popular Tales, by Thomas Frederick
Crane, A. M., London, 1885, pp. 12-17.
SOURCES OF THE LAY OF YONEC. 335
without having seen him ; and after she has sent her father
to him three times, requesting him to marry her, the king
finally consents, saying that she must first prepare three
vessels,— one of milk and water, one of milk, and one of
rose-water. He also sends her a beau, saying that when she
desires to see him she has only to go out on the balcony and
open the bean. The young lady prepares the vessels as
directed, and opens the bean, whereupon a bird comes and
bathes in the three vessels and then comes out the most
handsome youth in the world. The other two sisters, learn-
ing of these visits, place broken glass in the vessels, thus
causing the bird to be wounded. The wounded bird then
flies away, followed by the young woman, who learns from
witches the means by which she cures it.
That the story of the Jealous Sisters l represents a fusion
of the tale of the Jealous Stepmother with the theme of the
Fan Prince appears clearly in the Greek 2 version of the
Jealous Sisters, which gives us enough of the original themes of
the two earlier stories to show that they were being confused.
It therefore affords strong corroborative evidence. Accord-
ing to this Greek tale a merchant, before starting to India, asks
his three daughters what presents they wish him to bring
them on his return. The eldest daughter desires a dress,
the second a kerchief, and the youngest a golden switch.
On reaching India he buys the dress and the kerchief, but
forgets the golden switch. Consequently, when he goes on
board the ship, he finds that, in spite of the favorable winds,
it will not move until he has fulfilled the promise that he
had made to his youngest daughter. Thereupon he goes to
a large castle where dwells the king's son, who is called the
1 1 have named this story the Jealous Sisters in order to distinguish it
from the closely related tale of the Jealous Stepmother from which it is
derived.
3 See Griechische und albanische Marchen, gesammelt, ubersetzt und erldutert
von J. O. von Hahn. Erster Theil. Leipzig, 1864, pp. 97-102.
336 OLIVER M. JOHNSTON.
golden switch. The prince shows the merchant the portrait
of a lady whom he has seen in a dream, and tells him that
he has dreamed that he will marry her. It happens to be
the portrait of the merchant's youngest daughter, to whom
the prince then sends a letter, a basin, and a ring. In the
letter he tells her that if she wishes him to come to her, she
must fill the basin with water, throw the ring into it, and
call him three times. This she does, and a dove comes, which,
after having bathed in the water, assumes human form.
The visits of the prince to the merchant's daughter are
continued until her sisters become very jealous. Finally
one of them places a knife in the basin, and the prince,
being wounded, disappears. The youngest sister then follow-
ing him learns on her way the means of healing his wounds.
In this Greek story the long voyage of the merchant,
the presents promised to his daughters, the ship that will
not move until he has fulfilled his promise to his youngest
daughter, and the fact that the article desired by the young-
est daughter bears the name of the prince to whom she is
afterwards married, certainly represent the first part of the
story of the Fan Prince. On the other hand, the bird that
assumes human form is the subject of the Jealous Stepmother
tale. Some features of the Fan Prince are found combined
with the theme of the Jealous Stepmother.
The story of the Jealous Sisters, the tale in which the
jealous stepmother has been replaced by jealous sisters under
the influence of the Fan Prince, is very closely related to
that of the Jealous Stepmother, as is shown by the fact that
jealousy and the bird which has the power of assuming human
shape are the principal motifs in both cases. However, a
careful examination of the different versions of these two
legends reveals some very important differences. In the
first place, not only is the relation that the jealous one
sustains to the fair lady visited by the bird-man entirely
SOURCES OF THE LAY OF YONEC. 337
different in the two tales, but in the story of the Jealous
Sisters there are always three or more sisters, while in the
Jealous Stepmother tale there is one step-sister, or a sister-in-
law, as in the lay of Yonec. In the second place, in all
the versions of the Jealous Stepmother story that I have
examined, the stepmother has her step-daughter either sent
away from home or confined in a tower. In the early Irish
version contained in the Togail Bruidne Daderga, the step-
daughter is placed in a calf-shed, while in the Danish version
given by Grandtvig l and in an Italian story published by
Rua in the Archivio per le tradizioni popolari (vol. vi), she is
sent to a remote castle. In the lay of Yonec and in the story
of the Slue Bird, on the other hand, she is confined in a
tower.
5. The Motive that probably led to the Fusion of the Two
Stories used in the Composition of the Lay of Yonec.
The principal motive for combining the theme of the
Inclusa and that of the Jealous Stepmother, the two legends
from which the lay of Yonec was probably derived, doubtless
lay in the desire of the minstrels or story-tellers, from whom
Marie heard the tale, to substitute a supernatural for a
natural means of reaching the imprisoned lady. The first
part of the story of the Inclusa, the theme according to
which a jealous old man has a young and beautiful wife
whom he confines in a tower, was used in the lay. On the
other hand, the second part of the Inclusa, where a hand-
some youth visits by means of an underground passage a
fair lady imprisoned in a tower, has been omitted in Marie's
lay, and the story-tellers substituted for the motif of the
underground passage the theme of the Jealous Stepmother,
1 See Ddnische Volksmdrchen, translated by W. Leo, Leipzig, 1878, pp.
125-147.
338 OLIVER M. JOHNSTON.
according to which the gallant lover assumes the form of a
bird in order to reach his lady.
If my conclusions in this paper be correct, they show that
the lay of Yonec is composed of traditions gathered from
different sources. Of the material used in its composition
the legend of the Jealous Stepmother is a Western tale
(perhaps of Celtic origin), while the Inclusa is probably an
Oriental story. Speaking of the Inclusa episode in the lay
of Guigemar, William Henry Schofield * designates it as " a
transformed Oriental tale of a harem adventure in which
a jealous, spy-setting husband detects the amour of his young
wife, whom he has kept confined in a place apart, and of
whose attendant it is stated euphemistically (1. 257) that he
was an eunuch." In view of Marie's slender claim to origi-
nality, the work of combining the themes of the Inclusa and
of the Jealous Stepmother should doubtless be attributed to
the story-tellers from whom she received the tale.
OLIVER M. JOHNSTON.
1 The Lays of Graelent and Lanval, and the Story of Wayland (Publications
of the Modern Language Association of America, vol. xv, 2. New Series, vol.
vm, 2, p. 173). For other lays which show a mixture of Celtic and foreign
material, compare Schofield (op. cit., pp. 172-179).
IX.— ROMANCE ETYMOLOGIES.
I.
French fl&chir < Old French fleschlr <fie8chier, "to bend,"
< *fiexicdre < flexus < flectere, " to bend."
French fl&chir, O. F. fieschir, fleskir has been derived by
Forster, Zeitschrift f. rom. Phil., m, p. 262, from a Latin
*fleskire < *flescus < flexus. The assumption of the shift of
ks to sk is defended by an appeal to alaskir from laxus, seem-
ingly showing the same metathesis. This phonetic step,
which must be assigned to a Latin period, is in both instances
certainly unjustifiable, although it has been admitted by
excellent authorities. In the Dictionnaire general we find
French Idcher derived from a type *lascare < laxare. Here
the assumption of metathesis seems to go back to Diez,
Etymologisches Wb., pp. 188f., who cites as analoga Cam-
panian fisquer for fixer and lusque for luxe ; but these forms
clearly represent popular deformations of learned words and
are accordingly irrelevant. French Idcher has also been
derived by Grober, who evidently objects to the dubious
metathesis, from Old High German *lasc, a type assumed to
account for Middle High German lasch, " schlaff," and Old
Norse loskr, "schlaff," "lass." Kluge, however (Etymolo-
gisches Wb., 6th ed.), is inclined to derive the Germanic
from the Romance group. Grober's derivation has also been
disputed on phonological grounds by Mackel ; cf. Korting,
s. v. *lask, who rejects the Germanic etymon. The correct
etymon for Idcher, namely *laxicare, was first suggested by
Ulrich, Zeitschrift f. rom. Phil., IX, p. 429 ; is rejected
by Korting, who says that the assumption of the type is
unnecessaiy and seems to consider the derivation of the
339
340 CARL C. BICE.
French word unsettled ; but is accepted by Meyer-Liibke,
Rom. Gramm., u, p. 608. It will be seen later that *laxi-
care presents a perfect phonetic type for the derivation of
the French form. The cognate Romance forms (Provencal
lascar, etc.) present no difficulty. Returning iQ flechir, we
need only mention the derivation of the word fromflectere,
adopted by Diez, which is phonetically impossible. Paris,
Rom., viu, p. 628, has explained flechir as derived from
the adjective flesche, "bent," and the latter as a postverbal
from fleschier, which he derives from *flescare for flexare.
My objections to this etymology are as follows. In the first
place, the existence of the adjective flesche is extremely doubt-
ful. Scheler and Paris (7. c.) thought it occurred in one Old
French passage, namely, in the Saint JEloi, 92 b : Genous
fleches, enclin le chief. Here Forster, however (article cited),
reads fleches, and the passage is also quoted in this form by
Godefroy. No evidence for the existence of the word has
appeared in Godefroy's Complement, and under the circum-
stances it should doubtless be regarded as imaginary. In
the second place, the phonetic step from flexare to *flescare
is without support. Finally Grober, Archiv /. lot. Lex. u.
Gr., II, p. 285, explains flechir as a collateral form of
flechier showing a change of conjugation. This explanation
certainly seems to be the correct one. A glance at the
lexicon is sufficient to convince one that verbs fluctuating
between the -ir and -(-i)er conjugations were fairly common
in Old French: note, e. g.} refroidier, refroidir; embalsemer,
embalsamir ; engrossier, engrossir ; amplier, amplir; empo-
enter, empoentir ; empreignier, empreignir. The list could
undoubtedly be greatly lengthened.
Now, to explain this earlier form flechier, Grober (article
cited) sets up a type *flecticare, which is accepted by Korting,
but which does not account for the Old French form fleschier.
Paris and Forster (articles cited) assume that the regular
ROMANCE ETYMOLOGIES. 341
Old French form of both flechier and flechir had an s, and,
in view of the spellings with s cited by Forster, this opinion
certainly seems to be correct. Several forms with s will also
be seen in Godefroy.
The right etymon is *flexicare. This type was first
suggested by Grober (article cited), who rejected it on the
ground that it should have given O. F. *fleischier. For a
similar reason the Dictionnaire general rejects *taxitare as
the etymon of O. F. taster, Modern French tdter, alleging
that this Latin type would have given O. F. *taister. But
both authorities are in error regarding the sound-law here
in question, which is stated by Schwan-Behrens, Altjranz.
Gramm., 4th ed., § 158, 2, as follows : —
" Vollige Assimilation des Palatals an den folgenden Konsonanten trat
.... in vortoniger Stellung in der Verbindung ks -f Kons. ein : Beispiele :
.... sextarju > sestier, dextrariu ^> destrier, *tax(i)tare > taster, entox(i)care
> entoschier, extendere > estendre, extorquere > estordre, satzunbetonte extra >
estre und joxta > juste."
To these examples we may now add *fleocicare ^fleschier,
which is perfectly analogous to intoxicare > entoschier, *laxi-
care > laschier, and *taxicare > taschier. Tdcher, the modern
form of taschier, is derived by the Dictionnaire general from
*tascare, a metathesized form of taxare. But, as has been
shown above, the analoga seemingly justifying the assump-
tion of a metathesis of the group ks in a Latin period are of
no value. The etymon *taxicare is due to Ulrich, Zeitschrift
f. rom. Phil., ix, p. 429. It is put in brackets by Korting,
but is accepted by Meyer-Liibke, Rom. Gramm., u, p. 60S.1
The fact that a so-called epenthetic i does not appear in
developments like that of *taxitare > taster is to be explained
1 The daring etymology tdche < *tasca <^ *rd <TX« <C T<i£ij, recently sug-
gested by T. Claussen, Romanische Forschungen, xv (1904), p. 847, scarcely
deserves mention. The Dictionnaire general correctly states that tdche is a
postverbal from tdcher.
10
342 CABL C. BICE.
by the chronology of the sound-change. It is well known
that the pretonic vowel in paroxytones and the posttonic
vowel in proparoxytones dropped at different dates. Thus
*taxitare} as is evidently assumed by Schwan-Behrens, I. c.
had been reduced to *tastare in a period when *taxitat was
still trissyllabic. One might of course also expect a form
of the verb with epenthetic i, preserved from the proparoxy-
tone forms, to survive, and this actually did happen in some
cases. We need only cite the postverbal test beside tost, pre-
supposing a form *taister beside taster, and the still more
striking form entoischier beside entoschier < intoxicare.
If this reasoning is correct, we have established a conclu-
sion diametrically opposed to that of the Dictionnaire g£n6ral,
s. v. fl£chir, which says with regard to the etymology of the
word : " Origine inconnue. La forme du mot ne permet pas
d'y voir un reprSsentant, direct on indirect, du latin flectere,
qtii a cependant le m6me sens."
II.
Spanish rosca, "screw" < *rosicdre < TOSUA < rodere, "to
gnaw."
In Monlau's Diccionario etymologico we find the following
note : " Rosca : ' Es del vascuence errosca, y se dijo de
erruzca, a fuerza, por la grande que tiene para mover grandes
pesos.' (Larramendi.) Segun Covarrubias viene del latin
ruere, lanzarse, arrojarse, porque gira sobre si misma. Diez
afirma, con ma's acierto, que el origen de rosca es todavia
desconocido." The word is missing in Korting's index. On
consulting the recent edition of the dictionary of the Spanish
Academy, we are told that rosca is derived from an absurd
Greek etymon.
I derive the word from *rosicare. " to gnaw," the exist-
ence of which in late Latin is rendered certain by Italian
ROMANCE ETYMOLOGIES. 343
rosicare, Provenpal rosegar, "to gnaw." The etymology
presents no phonetic irregularity. For the c, cf. rascar, "to
scratch " < *rasicare, " to scratch." There is no reason for
doubting that intervocalic c in this position, in Spanish as in
Provencal and French, may either remain a surd or become
a sonant, according to the date at which the preceding vowel
dropped. The formation of rosca, " a gnawing instrument "
as a postverbal from *rosicare, "to gnaw," has countless
parallels, for which I refer to Meyer-Liibke, Rom. Gramm.,
11, pp. 444 ff. I need only mention Italian leva, "lever,"
from levare, " to raise." For the sense-development we may
compare English bit, i. e., apparently "a biting instrument,"
and Italian succhiare, "to bore," generally derived from
*suculare, " to suck." * Rosicare may have a direct descend-
ant in the Spanish technical word roscar, "to furrow,"
which, however, may also be a recent derivative from rosca.
III.
Spanish sesgo, "oblique" < sesgar, "to cut obliquely" <
*sesecdre, "to cut apart."
To explain Spanish sesgo, " oblique," Baist, Zeitschrift /.
rom. Phil., vn, p. 122, sets up a type *sesecus, which he
attempts to support by the analogy of circumsecus, extrinsecus.
The formation of *sesecus is not made sufficiently probable,
and the etymon is rightly rejected by Korting, who favors
the derivation from *subsecare. The latter type, however,
presents insuperable phonetic difficulty, to say nothing of
semantic obscurity. Ulrich, Zeitschrift fur rom. Phil., iv,
p. 383, derived sesgar from *sexicare < *sexus < sectus, but
Korting objects to the etymology on the ground that *sexus
for sectus is a monstrosity. *Sexicare also presents phonetic
and semantic difficulty.
The right etymon is *sesecdre, " to cut apart," an unim-
344 GAEL C. BICE.
peachable formation presenting no phonetic irregularity.
This type was also thought of by Baist (article cited), who
dismissed it on account of the existence of the adjective
sesgo. But the derivation of sesgo as a postverbal from
sesgar presents no difficulty. On the formation of post-
verbal adjectives I refer to Meyer-Liibke, Rom. Gramm., n,
p. 448, and to the Dictionnaire general, I, § 53. The
sense-development also presents no difficulty: 1) "to cut
apart," " to cut across ; " 2) " cut across," " oblique."
IV.
French ruche, " hive " (beside rouche, " hull of a ship on
the stocks ") < O. F. rusche, Prov. rusca, Piedmontese and
Lombard rusca, " bark," << Comascan ruscd, " to scale oif,"
<C *ruspicare < *ruspare, "to scratch."
In the Dictionnaire general we are told that ruche is of
Celtic origin. Korting's article on the word reads as
follows : —
' 'Rusca ist das vorauszusetzende, aber beziiglich seines Ursprunges ganz
dunkle Grundwort zu prov. rusca, Baumrinde (auch piemont. und lomb.
rusca) ; altfrz. rusche (norm, ruque), neufrz. ruche (aus Baumrinde ge-
fertigter Bienenkorb, Schiffsrumpf). Diez 673 hielt das Wort fur keltisch,
Thurneysen, p. Ill, verneint dies."
To make it clear that the words for " hive " and " bark "
are identical, Diez, I. c., cites Spanish eorcho, meaning both
"bark of the cork-tree" and "bee-hive." I propose to
derive the group from the verbal type *ruspicare, which
seems to explain perfectly all the forms. For the dropping
of the middle vowel in Provencal and French we may com-
pare Latin hospitale > Prov. ostal, O. F. osteL In Tuscan,
hospitale becomes ospedale, retaining the pretonic vowel.
But Meyer-Liibke, Italienische Grammatik, p. 71, notes that
the Italian dialects diverge widely from Florentine in their
ROMANCE ETYMOLOGIES. 345
treatment of syncope, and in view of the vagueness of our
present knowledge of the whole question I hold that, unless
the contrary assumption can be supported by evidence, we
should admit the regularity of the development of *ruspicare
into an early Italian *ruscare, surviving in Comascan as
ruscd, whence as postverbals Piedmontese and Lombard
rusca. We may perhaps cite Tuscan tastare < *taxitare,
destare < *de-extitare as showing a development parallel to
that assumed, though, to be sure, the consonant-groups in
question are quite different. This verb *ruspieare is derived
readily enough, by the elimination of the common suffix
-icare, from *ruspare} the existence of which in Latin with
the original meaning of " to scratch " is generally admitted
by Romance scholars, e. g., by Diez, Korting, and Schuo
hardt (Romanische Etymologieen, I, p. 27) on account of
the existence of Latin ruspari, " to examine," and Italian
ruspare, " to scratch." The semantic series, — 1) " to scratch
off," "to peel," 2) "peel," "bark," 3) "hive made of bark,"
4) "hive," — seems perfectly legitimate, particularly in view
of the fact that the first stage is supported by Comascan
ruscd, "to scale off."
CARL, C. RICE.
X.— SOME OBSERVATIONS UPON THE
SQUIRE'S TALE.
Among unfinished stories the Squire's Tale holds a promi-
nent place. Milton, in a familiar passage, lamented its
fragmentary condition,1 and all other lovers of good literature
have shared his regret. Two persons have attempted to
finish the tale "half told," Spenser's completion is well-
known.2 Well known, and somewhat notorious, too, is the
laborious ambition of John Lane.3 His dull lines, having
neither anything in common with Chaucer nor any native
worth, can be of only curious interest to students of literature.
They but remind us that the story of "Cambuscan" will
never be wholly told.
I.
The fragmentary condition of the Squire's Tale makes
very difficult the task of establishing its source. So far, at
least, the patient thought of scholars has met with slight
reward. Professor Skeat proposed a connection with Marco
1 Milton, II Penseroso, 109 ff. :
"Or call up him that left half told
The story of Cambuscan bold,
Of Camball, and of Algarsife,
And who had Canace to wife,
That own'd the virtuous ring and glass,
And of the wondrous horse of brass
On which the Tartar king did ride."
1 Faerie Queene, Book iv, Canto n, st. 30, io end of Canto in. This,
perhaps, should not strictly be called a completion, as Spenser took up only
one of the threads which Chaucer had let fall.
3 John Lane, Continuation of Chaucer's Squire's Tale, ed. by F. J. Furni-
vall, Chaucer Society, 1887.
346
OBSERVATIONS UPON THE SQUIRE'S TALE. 347
Polo,1 and Dr. Brandl constructed an ingenious allegory as
the true foundation of the story.2 Professor Manly has at
least shaken confidence in Skeat's theory,3 and Professor
Kittredge has cleared away Brandl's obstruction from the
path of research, affirming at the close of his searching
criticism in Englische Studien, that, " for all that appears to
the contrary, the world has been right for the last five
hundred years in regarding the Squire's Tale as nothing
more or less than a romance." 4
Although the source of Chaucer's romance is far from
discovery, a number of analogues have been collected. Most
of these are contained in Mr. Clouston's substantial Magic
Elements in the Squire's Tale.5 We are safe in saying thaf^
Chaucer never knew the greater number of Mr. Clouston's
stories, although the like of some of them may have come to
his attention. The Cleomades, in some form, he probably
did know. Professor Skeat refers to this long romance of/
Adenes le Roi, but presents no extended comparison between
Chaucer's story and that of the French minstrel.6 Mr.
Clouston, on the other hand, summarizes the Cleomadte,
indicates the main points of difference between the two
poems, and concludes that these -difierences could not have,
been " merely fortuitous." 7
There is an antecedent probability that Chaucer knew ^
the CUomades story. The romance was in vogue during the
fourteenth century. Allusions to it are found in Froissart
and in the poems of Chaucer's friend Eustache Deschamps.8 /
1 Complete Works of Geoffrey Chaucer, m, 470 ff. ; v, 371.
3 Englische Studien, xn, 161 ff. 3 Publs. of M. L. A., xi, 349 ff.
4 Englische Studien, xin, 1 ff.
5 Chaucer Society, 1889 (Lane, Continuation of Chaucer's Squire's Tale, Part
ID-
6 Oxford Chaucer, m, 475 f.
7 Lane, Continuation of Chaucer's Squire's Tale, Part II, 382 ff.
8 Histoire littcraire de la France, XX, 718.
348 H. 8. V. JONES.
This antecedent probability that Chaucer knew the Cttomadts
is strengthened by the fact that its author, Aden^s le Hoi,
was once honored by an English king. In British Museum
MS. No. 6965, is the following entry: — " Firmaculum
aureum pretii LX s. datur per Ricardum vidulatorem regis,
nomine regis, Adoe menestrallo comitis Flandriae, apud
Gand, vin die novembris." The entry was found in a
statement of expenses of Edward the. First of England by
•*• M.Me Hbaron* KeVvyn de Lettenhove, who concluded from it
that Adenes was still living in 1297. Edward the First,
who had affianced one of his sons to Philippine, daughter
of AdenSs' patron, Gui de Dampierre, count of Flanders,
went to Flanders in 1297 to help the count against his
over-lord Philippe le Bel, king of France. The accounts
of Edward's household tell us that the king was at Ypres on
the fifth of November, where two minstrels were admitted
to the honor of giving him proof of their talent. Three
days later the king was at Gand, where he gave to Adenes
the firmaculum aureum, mentioned in the royal accounts.1
'The facts that Edward thus honored AdenSs and that the
poet was a minstrel in the family of his daughter-in-law,
might well be considered as strengthening in England the
popularity of the CUomadts. If so, Chaucer, though he
wrote his poem almost a century later, would have been the
\more likely to have known the story.
Another romance, written in the latter part of the thir-
teenth century and closely resembling the CUomad&s, deserves
our attention. It is the Miliacin by Girard of Amiens.2
The romance, as a whole, is still in manuscript, although
excerpts have been published by Stengel3 and Keller.4
Hasselt, Li Rowmans de deomaden, par Aedenes li Eois, 2
vols., Bruxelles, 1865; i, xviff. ,
* Histoire Ktteraire de la France, xxxi, 171 ff.
3 Zeitschriftfur romanische Philologie, x, 460 ff.
*Rffmvart, 99 ff.
OBSERVATIONS UPON THE 8QUIREJ8 TALE. 349
Grober supposes that Girard wrote the poem for Marguerite,
daughter of Philip the Bold, at the instance of some knight
who was acquainted with AdeneV Cleomades through a
" blosse Nacherzahlung." l Chauvin,2 Tobler,3 and Paris,4
on the other hand, think that Girard and Adenes were
indebted to a common source, Chauvin holding that this
source was a Spanish poem printed with an old Spanish
translation of The Thousand and One Nights, and Paris
thinking that it was an abridged French form of a Spanish
oral version.
Whichever of the above views is accepted, the Meliacin is
of interest in connection with the English poem. Here, as
in the case of the CUomades, there are points of contact with
England. Girard dedicated his Escanor to Eleonore, wife
of Edward the First. Moreover, he shows in that story
such familiarity with the topography of England as to
warrant the supposition that he once resided at the English
court.5 Granted this, his poems were probably well known
in England fifty years before Chaucer was born, and the
Meliacin, closely resembling the Cttomades, may have done
something to strengthen the popularity of the story in Chau-
cer's country.
What I have said of the association between Adeues and
Girard and the English court may be gratuitous. Chaucer,
who was a hungry reader, would probably in any case have
known romances which were well liked across the channel.
But I would not only show that Chaucer probably knew the
Cleomades story, but would further seek to explain why he
selected a tale which, in itself, did not seem to attract him.
1 Grundriss, 2, 787 ff.
1 Pacolet et les Mille et une Nuits, Wallonia, Janvier-Fevrier, 1898, 5 ff.
8 Zeitschrift fiir romanische Philologie, xi, 421 ff.
* Romania, 27, 325 ff. (Review of Chauvin, Pacolet et lea Mille et une
Nuite).
5 Grober, Orundriss, 2, 786.
350 H. 8. V. JONES.
He may well have chosen the story of the cheval defust, not
simply because the tale was famous, but because Adenes and
Girard, though dead for almost a hundred years, were still
^remembered at the English court. Just which version of
the story Chaucer followed, and to just what extent he
changed that version, are questions yet to be answered. For
the present it may be of interest to indicate the points of
similarity and difference between the English fragment and
the French romances, and then to point out some noteworthy
associations of the Cleomades story with magic elements
found in the Squire's Tale but not appearing in the narrative
proper of either the Cleomades or the Meliacin.
Assuming on the part of my reader an acquaintance with
the Squire's Tale, I shall give a brief summary of the
Cleomades: — Marcadigas, son of Caldus, king of Sardinia,
marries Ynabele, daughter of the king of Spain. They
have one son, Cl6omad£s ; and three daughters, Elyador,
Feniadisse, and Marine. Marcadigas is visited on his birth-
day, May the first, by three kings : Melocandis, king of
Barbary ; Baldigans, king of Armenia ; and Crompart, king
of Bugia. They bring rich and curious gifts : Melocandis
gives a golden hen and three golden chickens, capable of
walking and singing ; Baldigans, a man of gold, who blows
a golden trumpet at the approach of treason ; Crompart, a
horse of ebony, which is governed by pins. In return for
these gifts the three kings ask the three daughters of Marca-
digas in marriage. Elyador and Feniadisse are well pleased,
because to their lot have fallen the handsome knights, Melo-
candis and Baldigans. Marine, the most beautiful of the
daughters of Marcadigas, is, on the contrary, sorely grieved,
because Crompart, who wishes to marry her, is marvellously
ugly. Turning in distress to her brother, Cleomades, she
begs him to deliver her from the loathsome knight. The
prince takes his sister's part, and, in quarrelsome mood,
OBSERVATIONS UPON THE SQUIRE 's TALE. 351
tells Crompart that his horse is no good. "Try it," says
Crompart. Cleomad£s, mounting, turns a pin which sets the
horse flying through the air. The prince, unacquainted with
the use of the pins, is unable either to guide or to stop his
steed.
Cle"omad6s hastens over the country until by persistent
experiment he has learned the mechanism of his horse. He
then alights upon a tower, and, passing through a trap-door,
finds his way to a chamber in which the fair ClarSmondine
is asleep. As soon as she awakens, he declares his love for
her ; but shortly after he is taken by the lady's angry father.
Condemned to death, he asks the privilege of dying upon
his horse. The request is granted ; but no sooner has the
prince mounted than he makes off. He proceeds to the court
of Seville, where the marriages of Melocandis and Baldigans
are celebrated. Crompart, in the meanwhile, had been
banished, and resided in the neighborhood of Seville attend-
ing the sick.
Soon after his sisters are married, Cle"omad6s sets out to
obtain Clare"mondine. He succeeds without difficulty in
finding her and in bringing her back to Seville. Unfortu-
nately, however, he leaves her outside of the city while he
goes to prepare for her arrival. Crompart finding Clar6-
mondine pretends that he has been sent to escort her into
the city. They mount upon the horse and Crompart carries
her away for the satisfaction of his lust and his revenge.
The rest of the romance recounts the various adventures of
Cle'omad&s in recovering Clare'mondine and in bringing her
back to Seville.
One incident in these adventures is worthy of special
comment. Cle"omad&s, having directed his search toward
the kingdom of Tuscany, comes to a castle, where he asks
hospitality. After he has been well received he is told that
a strange custom prevails at that castle : every man enter-
352 H. S. V. JONES.
tained there should the following morning either leave his
arms and his horse behind or should singly engage two
brave knights. Cl6omad£s chooses the latter alternative and
next morning engages the two knights. He is victorious.1
The points of difference between the Cttomad&s and
Chaucer's story are numerous and obvious. In Clfomadds
three kings come to the king of Seville, and in return for
their three gifts ask his daughters in marriage ; in Chaucer
one knight from " the king of Arabic and Inde " brings to
the king of Tartarye four gifts, asking nothing in return.
Moreover except in one instance the gifts are different. In
CUomad&s they are : a horse of ebony, a golden man with
a golden trumpet, which he blows at the approach of treason,
and a golden hen with three golden chickens. In Chaucer :
a horse of brass, a magic mirror, a magic ring, and a magic
sword. The names, too, of places and persons are wholly
different in the two stories. In the Cttomadte, moreover,
there is nothing corresponding to the incident of Canacee
and " the falcon peregrine."
On the other hand the occasion is in each case a birthday
feast with the making of gifts. In each there are : a magic
horse, operated in like manner, although of different mate-
rial ; a present which has the virtue of discovering treason,
although Chaucer's mirror is more useful than the golden
man in that it discovers treason in love as well as treason
against the state. Moreover the following passage seems to
point to some such adventures as those of Cl6omad£s and
ClarSmondine :
"And after wol I speke of Algarsyf,
How that he wan Theodora to his wyf,
For whom ful ofte in greet peril he was,
Ne hadde he ben holpen by the stede of bras." 2
1 Cteomad&s, 9486 ff. 2 Squire's Tale, 655 S.
OBSERVATIONS UPON THE SQUIRE'S TALE. 353
Besides, this other passage may allude to the contest with
the two knights at the castle of the discourteous custom :
' 'And after wol I speke of Cambalo,
That faught in listes with the bretheren two
For Canacee, er that he mighte her winne." * ,
Notwithstanding, then, many points of difference between
the Cleomades and the Squire's Tale, I am inclined to agree
with Mr. Clouston that the similarity of the two stories is
not " merely fortuitous."
What has been said for the Cleomades may, for the most Sy>
part, be said for the Meliacin. There are, indeed, obvious /
particulars in which Girard's romance differs from Adenfcs'.2
The names are wholly different ; the scene of the Meliadn
is laid in Asia ; the three visitors to the king of the Grande
Ermenie are clerks, not kings ; 3 the figure with the trumpet
is made of brass and the trumpet of silver ; moreover the
figure is to be placed over the gate of a city or of a castle,
where it will sound the trumpet whenever anyone enters.
There are, too, many divergencies in the incidents. Meliacin,
taken captive by Celinde's father, does not as C16omad£s in
the same situation ask for the privilege of dying upon his
horse, but proposes to fight five warriors and for this purpose
asks for his horse. Moreover, there is in the Meliacin after
the hero's first return to Ermenie a long episode, to which
nothing corresponds in the Cleomades. There is in the
Meliacin a contest with a giant Roberon, corresponding to
CleomadSs' contest with the two knights at the castle of the
discourteous custom. These are only a few of the differ-
ences between the Meliacin and the Cliomades. They are
sufficient, however, for our purpose. The setting of the
1 Squire1 s Tale, 659 ff.
3 Histoire litteraire, xxxi, 183 ff.
8 In the Arabian Nights story they are sages. Lane, Arabian Nights, n,
464.
354 H. S. V. JONES.
Meliacin is, like that of the Squires Tale, Eastern ; on the
other hand the contest with "the brethren two" does not
appear.
II.
The interest of the CUomades and the Meliacin as ana-
logues to the Squire's Tale would, of course, be enhanced,
if we could account in some measure for the divergences
between the French romances and Chaucer's story. With
this in view I shall indicate some associations of the Cleo-
mades with magic elements, found in Chaucer but not
appearing in the stories of Adenes or Girard.
Corresponding to the figure with a trumpet we find in the
Squire's Tale a magic mirror. With -this magic means of
discovering treason Chaucer must have been more familiar
than with that employ efl' by the French romancers. It is
similar to Virgil's mirror, which is described in Gower's
Confessio Amantis,1 and in the English metrical version of
the Seven Wise Masters.2 The piece of poetical machinery
appears to have been well known ; whereas the man with
the trumpet was at least not common. There are, moreover,
two allusions to mirrors, magic in one case and not magic in
the other, which may lead to an explanation of the gift to
Canacee. Their interest largely consists in their association
with the Cleomades. They are to be found in Aden&s'
poem itself, and in Froissart's L'Espinette Amoureuse.s
The writer of the Cleomadte, speaking of the magic gifts,
says : " People sometimes ask how such things, of which I
have told you, can be done. Do you know what I tell
1 Gmfessio Amantis, Book V, 2031 ff.
2 Weber, in, The Sevyn Sages, 2070 ff.
8 L'Espinette appears to have been written before November, 1373. Com-
pare Le Joli Buisson, 443 ff. (n, 14) with ib,, 859-60 (11, 26). See Eng.
Stud., xxvi, 327-9.
OBSERVATIONS UPON THE SQUIBEJS TALE. 355
them ? I say that negromancy is a very wonderful clergy j
for one has done many a marvel with it." The poet then
indulges in a long digression in which he tells of the wonders
of Virgil. First comes the story of two castles founded
upon two eggs in the sea ; then an account of Virgil's bath
which gives healing to the sick ; of a horse of metal upon a
pillar, by being tied to which sick horses were cured. After
narrating these wonders the poet continues : — "At Rome, in
truth, Virgil made a very much greater thing ; for he made
there a mirror from which one could know well, by the
reflection in it, if any subject planned treason against Rome."
Then follow the stories of a mouse of brass, which kept all
mice out of Naples, and of Virgil's fire, near which was an
archer, made of copper. On his forehead was written in
Hebrew : " If any one strikes me, I shall shoot." One day
a man struck the figure, which forthwith shot an arrow into
the fire, extinguishing it. There is, further, the account of
four men of stone, representing the different seasons ; as the
seasons changed they passed from one to another a large
brass apple.
This passage occurs in the Cl£omad$s where the poet is
describing the gifts presented to king Marcadigas.1 As it
has a two-fold interest I quote it at length. In the first
place we have here the magic mirror that reveals treason.
Then, too, it will be noticed that most of Virgil's images are
made of metal : the horse upon the pillar, the mouse, the
archer, the apple. If Canacee's mirror may be traced
directly or indirectly to the stock of Virgil's wonders, may
we not find there also a reason for the horse of brass,
instead of Adenes' horse of wood?2
Another association of a mirror with the OUomadZs appears
1 Cllomadts, 1639 ff.
2 In the English prose Virgil there is actually a magic horse of copper.
See Thorn, Early Prose Romances, II, X.
356 H. 8. V. JONES.
in Froissart's L'Espinette Amoureuse. At line 700 of this
poem the knight asks his lady what she is reading. " It is
called Cl6omad£s," she answers, " I shall read of it to you,
and you will tell me how you like it." She then reads,
while the knight is busy studying her conventional charms.
Somewhat over 1650 lines further on1 — not so far, as dis-
tances are reckoned in romances — the hero determines to
cross the sea that he may restore his health. Before he
leaves his lady, however, she gives him a mirror. When
far away, he is once looking in this mirror. Thinking how
often it has reflected the face of his love, he seems to see
her. On another occasion he puts the mirror under his
pillow, goes to sleep, and sees the loved one in his dream.
In his sleep he says, " This a phantom ! by no means ; "
and then recalls a story of Papirus and YdorSe, which
Froissart is pleased to attribute to Ovid. At line 25836°.
we read : —
" Se Diex me gart,
Je vodroie qu'il peu'ist estre
Que je ressamblasse le mestre
Qui fist le mireoir a Romme
Dont estoient veil li homme
Qui chevaupoient environ.
Se le sens avoie ossi bon
Que cils qui le mireoir fist,
En cesti ci, par Jhesu Crist,
En quelconques lieu que j'iroie
Ma dame apertement veroie." 2
Scheler, in his edition of Froissart, suggests that the poet
here recalls the passage which I have already quoted from
the CUomad&s? If so, and even if a magic mirror were not
one of the gifts in any form of the Cttomadte story, Chaucer,
who very probably knew Froissart's poems, might have
1 CUomates, 2382 ff . 2 L' Espinette, 2583 ff.
3 M. Aug. Scheler, (Euvres de Froissart, Bruxelles, 1870, i, 384.
OBSERVATIONS UPON THE SQUIRE'S TALE. 357
associated these lines with the Cl&omadte; especially since
that romance had been previously mentioned by name in
JJ Espinette. Certainly the passage in which Froissart prettily
describes the lover going to sleep with the mirror under his
pillow, as well as the pleasing narrative of Papirus and
Ydoree, would have served to impress the mirror fiction
upon Chaucer's mind. Yet we need not rest our case for
the Froissart passage solely on these grounds. There are
more definite reasons for connecting the passage in L'Espinette
with the Squires Tale.
Before advancing these reasons I need to present two
quotations from Chaucer's poem. The first will be found at
line 132 ff. :—
"This mirour eek, that I have in myn hond,
Hath swich a might, that men may in it see
When ther shal fallen any adversitee
Un-to your regne or to your-self also ;
And openly who is your freend or foo,
And over al this, if any lady bright
Hath set hir herte on any maner wight,
If he be fals, she shal his treson see,
His newe love and al his subtiltee
So openly, that ther shal no-thing hyde."
The other passage is at line 367 ff. : —
"And slepte hir firste sleep, and thanne awook.
For swich a joye she in hir herte took
Both of hir queynte ring and hir mirour,
That twenty tyme she changed hir colour ;
And in hir slepe, right for impressioun
Of hir mirour, she hadde a visioun."
The mirror, as described in the first passage by the
messenger from the king of Arabic and of Inde, makes
sorrowful revelations : it shows a lady the falseness of her
lover. In the second quotation Canacee, in her first sleep,
" right for impressioun of hir mirour " had a vision, from
11
358 H. S. V. JONES.
which she awakes to have such joy of her gifts that she
changes color twenty times. Are we to suppose that Canacee
has been dreaming either of the messenger from the Eastern
king or of that king himself, and that she has had sweet
dreams, not from any magic property of the ring and mirror,
but simply from remembrance of them ? The passage would
be more easily intelligible if we could suppose here a remi-
niscence of Froissart's mirror rather than Virgil's. Some
lines from L'Espinette seem to give a degree of likelihood to
this conjecture. The knight in a portion of that romance
already alluded to puts his mirror under his pillow and goes
to sleep. He dreams that he sees a reflection of his lady : —
" De mon mireoir me prenc garde,
Que g*i voi 1' impression pure
De ma dame et de sa figure
Qui se miroit au mireoir." l
I suggest that Canacee's dream was similar to the knight's
here described, and that " impressioun of hir mirour" maybe
an echo of " 1'impression .... qui se miroit au mireoir."
There are, moreover, other lines in the Squires Tale which
are of interest in connection with another portion of this
same passage in UEspinette. We read in Chaucer's poem : —
' 'Another answerde and seyde it myghte wel be
Naturelly, by composiciouns
Of angles and of slye reflexiouns,
And seyden, that in Rome was swich oon." 2
"We have here possibly an allusion to Virgil's mirror. The
description, however, answers as closely at least to the mirror
in Froissart's episode of Papirus and YdorSe ; and there are,
besides, similarities of wording between the passages in the
English and in the French poem. The knight, still dreaming
of his lady and his mirror, says : —
1 L' Espinette, 2623 ff. * Squxn? s Tde, 220 ff .
OBSERVATIONS UPON THE SQUIRE'S TALE. 359
"Cestfantomme/1
Non esl ; car jd, avint d Romme
De deux a mans 1' uevre pareille
Tele, si n'est pas grant merveille
De ceste ci, quant bien m'avise,
Ensi qu' Ovides le devise." a
It is to be noted that the mirror in this episode is, unlike
that in the narrative proper of L'Espinette, a magic mirror.
It is like Canacee's mirror, as described by the messenger
from "Arabic," but unlike Virgil's, in that it is useful in
affairs of love. It is, too, so closely associated with the other
mirror in L'Espinette that Chaucer might have combined
the two.
These possible echoes of Froissart in the Squire's Tale
seem to ring true. If we credit them, we have one more
instance of the influence of the famous poet-chronicler upon
Ohaucer.
Should we further believe that our poet knew the CUo-
mades and was directly or indirectly indebted to it for
prominent incidents in his proposed narrative, we might be
led to ask under what circumstances the Squire's Tale was
composed. The question is a perilous one ; and with the
data at hand no answer can safely be given. In general,
however, two possibilities face us : on the one hand that the
Cttomades, retaining much of Adenes' plot, was in some
redaction brought nearer to Chaucer's poem ; on the other,
that Chaucer, taking suggestions from many quarters, was
trying to write a romance for himself. All that we now
know of Chaucer's work-shop certainly favors the former
alternative.
H. S. V. JONES.
1 Professor Kittredge has suggested to me this punctuation. Scheler puts
no exclamation point after fantomme.
2 V Espinette, 2661 ff.
XI.— REPETITION AND PARALLELISM IN THE
EARLIER ELIZABETHAN DRAMA.
The main object of this study is to call attention to
certain characteristics of style that may serve as evidence
in determining questions of authorship and relation of plays
within the period treated ; to develop a small and, perhaps,
rather rough instrument of research, which will hardly rise
to the dignity of a "test," but may serve as a useful
auxiliary to more significant criteria. No attempt has been
made to complete the study on the rhetorical side ; attention
has been given generally only to such matters as seemed
important for the main purpose. A simple but sufficiently
precise terminology has been used, and it has not been
thought worth while to discuss its relation to the formal
terminology of ancient or modern rhetorical treatises. All
the forms here discussed are found in contemporary poetry
other than the drama, especially in the work of the sonneteers.
By repetition is meant the use of the same word or words
in the same line, or in succeeding lines of verse ; where there
is more than one word in the unit repeated, the term repeti-
tion implies the same words in the same order.
Examples : l
1 The following editions are referred to : —
The Cambridge Shakespeare, edited by W. A. Wright.
The Works of Christopher Marlowe, edited by A. H. Bullen, London, 3
vols., 1885.
The Life and Works of Robert Greene, edited by Rev. A. B. Grosart, Huth
Library, 15 vols., 1881-86.
The Works of George Peele, edited by A. H. Bullen, 2 vols., London, 1888.
The Works of Thomas Kyd, edited by F. S. Boas, Oxford, 1901.
Locrine, The Doubtful Plays of William Shakespeare, by William Hazlitt^
London, 1859, pp. 57-104.
360
REPETITION AND PARALLELISM. 361
"Locrine, draw near, draw near unto thy sire."
Locrine, I, 1, 146.
" If all my care, if all my grievous wounds."
Locrine, I, 1, 122.
"And lastly for revenge, for deep revenge."
Battle of Alcazar, IV, 2, 94.
By parallelism is meant the use of the same form of
expression in the same line, or in succeeding lines of verse,
the parallel expressions occupying the same relative place in
the structure of the verse.
Examples :
"Witness this wretched stump, witness these crimson lines."
Titus Andronicus, v, 2, 22.
" Short is the race, prefixed is the end ;
Swift is the time, wherein man's life doth run."
Misfortunes of Arthur, Epilogus.
"O life, the harbour of calamities !
O death, the haven of all miseries ! "
Locrine, iv, 1, 56-7.
It will at once be apparent that the terms repetition and
parallelism, as it is proposed to use them, are not mutually
exclusive. In all repetition where the repeated unit con-
sists of more than a single word parallelism is found. On
the other hand, in any case of parallelism, in addition to
correspondence of form, we may have identity of words to a
greater or less extent. Repetition, where the repeated unit
consists of more than one word, necessarily implies parallel-
ism, but parallelism does not necessarily imply repetition.
As a matter of fact, however, there are very few examples
of parallelism without some repetition.
In verse, parallelism is usually related to verse structure,
Misfortunes of Arthur, Old English Plays, Dodsley-Hazlitt, vol. 4, pp. 249-
343.
Wounds of Civil War, Old English Plays, Dodsley-Hazlitt, vol. 7, pp. 97-
197.
362 F. G. HUBBABD.
that is, the first half of a line is parallel to the second half
of the same line, or one line is parallel to the next line, or
the first half of one line is parallel to the first half of the
next line, or alternate lines are parallel in whole or in part.
For this reason the study has been limited to only those
cases in which the parallel expressions occupy the same
relative place in the structure of the verse. Of parallel
expressions that are found in the same line only one case
has been considered, namely, where the first half of a verse
is parallel to the second half. No particular attention has
been given to cases where the second half of one line is
parallel to the first half of the next line, although some
examples have been noted.
Both repetition and parallelism appear in a great variety
of forms in the earlier Elizabethan drama; a complete
description and classification of these forms would be a long
and tedious matter, and not particularly profitable for the
purpose of this study. I shall, therefore, describe and
illustrate only the more common forms, and those that
appear to be most significant as evidence in helping to
determine the authorship and relation of plays. In the
following pages ten forms are described and illustrated.
FORMS OF REPETITION AND PARALLELISM.
1. Simple repetition of a word or two.
Examples :
"Follow me, soldiers, follow Albanact. "
Locrine, n, 5, 20.
"The babe is sick, sick to the death, I fear."
David and Bethsabe, 4, 12.
"Deep night, dark night, the silent of the night."
* Henry VI, i, 4, 16.
"All truth, all trust, all blood, all bands be broke ! "
Misfortunes of Arthur, m, 4.
REPETITION AND PARALLELISM. 363
2. Repetition of a word or words with an added epithet.
Examples :
"These arms, my lords, these never-daunted arms."
Locrine, I, 1, 12.
" But this foul day, this foul accursed day."
Locrine, n, Prol., 12.
" Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds."
1st Henry VI, ni, 3, 50.
"And in the morning sound the voice of war,
The voice of bloody and unkindly war."
David and Sethsabe, 10, 107-8.
This form is comparatively rare ; I have found it only in
Locrine, 1st Henry VI, and Peele's plays.
3. The first half of a line is parallel to the second half of
the same line.
Examples :
"luxurious traytour, monstrous homicide."
Spanish Tragedy, in, 1, 57.
"Witness this wretched stump, witness these crimson lines."
Titus Andronicus, v, 2, 22.
"Who spake of brotherhood? who spake of love?"
Richard III, n, 1, 108.
" That bottled spider, that foul bunch-back' d toad ! "
Richard III, iv, 4, 81.
4. Two or more successive lines begin with the same word
or two, or with the same word followed by one in parallel
construction.
Examples :
"And do him homage as obedient subjects ;
And I'll withdraw me and my bloody power."
1st Henry VI, IV, 2, 7-8.
" Your claim required no less than those attempts
Your cause right good was prais'd and pray'd for most."
Misfortunes of Arthur, v, 1.
364 F. G. HUBBAED.
"There were prepaid the foreign aids from far :
There were the borrowed powers of divers kings ;
There were our parents, brethren, sons and kin."
Misfortunes of Arthur, II, 1.
This is the most common, and probably the least significant
of all the forms ; it is found with varying frequency in all
early Elizabethan plays. It is probable, as Sarrazin points
out (Anglia, 13, 127), that it is to this practice of beginning
successive lines with the same word that Nash refers (in the
prefatory epistle to Greene's Menaphori) in the expression
" to bodge vp a blanke verse with ifs and ands." l
5. Two or more successive lines end with the same word
or two, or with the same word preceded by one in parallel
construction.
Examples :
"As if we should forget we had no hands,
If Marcus did not name the word of hands ! "
Titus Andronicus, III, 2, 32-3.
"Coal-black is better than another hue,
In that it scorns to bear another hue."
Titus Andronicus, iv, 2, 99-100.
"O, but impatience waiteth on true sorrow.
And see where comes the breeder of my sorrow ! "
3d Henry VI, in, 3, 42-3.
This is a rare form, but it is sometimes used with marked
effect, particularly where the repeated words end a number
of successive lines.
6. The first half of a line is parallel to the first half of one
or more succeeding lines.
1 Greene's Works, edited by Grosart (Huth Library), vi, p. 16.
For another explanation of this expression, see Boas, The Works of Thomas
Kyd, Intro., p. xxix ; Koppel, Engl. Stud., 18, p. 131 ; Schick, The Spanish
Tragedy (Temple Dramatists), Intro., p. xii.
REPETITION AND PARALLELISM. 365
Examples :
"Dost thou not tremble at our royal looks?
Dost thou not quake, when mighty Locrine frowns?"
Locrine, v, 1, 43-4.
" With sails and oars to cross the swelling seas,
With men and ships, courage and cannon-shot."
Battle of Alcazar, in, Prol., 4-5.
"Is this the loue thou bearst Horatio!
Is this the kindnes that thou counterfeits ?
Are these the fruits of thine incessant teares?"
Spanish Tragedy, IV, 1, 1-3.
"Thus must we worke that will auoide distrust ;
Thus must we practise to preuent mishap."
Spanish Tragedy, in, 2, 105-6.
" That keeps his seat and sceptre all in fear ;
That wears his crown in eye of all the world."
Battle of Alcazar, m, 4, 41-2.
7. The second half of a line is parallel to the second half of
one or more succeeding lines.
Examples :
" My bowels cry, Humber, give us some meat
But wretched Humber can give you no meat."
Locrine, iv, 2, 15-16.
" On whom I doted more then all the world,
Because she lou'd me more then all the world."
Spanish Tragedy, n, 6, 5-6.
"Duch. What means this scene of rude impatience?
Q. Eliz. To make an act of tragic violence."
Richard III, n, 2, 38-9.
" So am I left to wail my parents' death,
Not able for to work my proper death."
Locrine, v, 4, 154-5.
8. Whole lines are parallel in groups of two or more.
Examples :
" For now revenge shall ease my lingering grief,
And now revenge shall glut my longing soul."
Locrine, ni, 2, 34-5.
t
366 F. G. HUBBARD.
" Locrine may well bewail his proper grief,
Locrine may move his own peculiar woe."
Locrine, IV, 1, 83-4.
"His men are slaine, a weakening to his Realme ;
His colours ceaz'd, a blot unto his name ;
His Sonne distrest, a corsiue to his hart."
Spanish Tragedy, I, 2, 141-3.
" She is a woman, therefore may be woo'd ;
She is a woman, therefore may be won ;
She is Lavinia, therefore must be loved."
Titus Andronieus, II, 1, 82—4.
9. Alternate lines are parallel. Of this form there are
two principal varieties : A. The first line is parallel to the
third, fifth, &c., and the second is parallel to the fourth,
sixth, &c. B. The first line is parallel to the third, fifth,
&c., but the intervening lines have no parallel structure.
Examples :
A. ' ' Hadst thou no time thy rancour to declare,
But in the spring of all my dignities ?
Hadst thou no place to spit thy venom out,
But on the person of young Albanact?"
Locrine, II, 5, 32-6.
B. " 'Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud ;
But, God He knows, thy share thereof is small :
'Tis virtue that doth make them most admired ;
The contrary doth make thee wondered at."
3d Henry VI, I, 4, 128-31.
10. Progressive repetition and parallelism. In this form
lines or half lines are parallel, and, in addition, words used
in the second half of one line are repeated in the first half
of the following line. This is the most elaborate and arti-
ficial of all the forms ; its occurrence is rare except in Locrine
and The Spanish Tragedy.
Examples :
' Where'er Aurora, handmaid of the sun,
Where'er the sun, bright guardian of the day,
REPETITION AND PARALLELISM. 367
Where'er the joyful day with cheerful light,
Where'er the light illuminates the world,
The Trojans' glory flies with golden wings,
Wings that do soar beyond fell envy's flight."
Locrine, I, 1, 51-6.
" Bright Bethsabe gives earth to my desires ;
Verdure to earth ; and to that verdure flowers ;
To flowers sweet odours ; and to odours wings."
David and Bethsabe, 1, 67-9.
"And with my wonder hasteth on my woe,
And with my woe I am assailed with fear,
And with my fear await with faintful breath."
The Wounds of Civil War, IV, 1.
" First, in his hand he brandished a sword,
And with that sword he fiercely waged warre,
And in that warre he gaue me dangerous wounds,
And by those wounds he forced me to yeeld,
And by my yeelding I became his slaue :
Now, in his mouth he carries pleasing words,
Which pleasing wordes doe harbour sweet conceits,
Which sweet conceits are lim'de with slie deceits,
Which slie deceits smooth Sel-imperias eares,
And through her eares diue downe into her hart,
And in her hart set him where I should stand."
Spanish Tragedy, n, 1, 1 19-29. l
1This passage is an imitation of Watson's Hecatompathia, Sonnet XLI
(Arbor's Keprint, p. 77), as is suggested in a general way, but not specifi-
cally, by Sarrazin (Thomas Kyd und sein Kreis, p. 7). The first six lines
o£ Sonnet LXIIII (Arber, p. 100) may also have been imitated here. For
other imitations and borrowings from Watson by Kyd, see Dodsley-HazliU,
V, p. 36 ; Boas, Works of Thomas Kyd, Intro., p. xxiv ; Schick, Archivfilr
das Studium der Neueren Sprachen, 87, p. 300 ; Sarrazin, Thomas Kyd nnd
sein Kreis, p. 6.
Watson's introduction to Sonnet XLI is interesting. "This Passion is
framed upon a somewhat tedious1 or too much affected continuation of that
figure in Rhethorique, whiche of the Grekes is called ira\i\oyla or avadt-
TXwo-ts, of the Latines Reduplicatio : whereof Sv&enbrotus (if I well remember
me) alleadgeth this example out of Virgill,
Sequitur pvlcherrimus Austur, JEneid, 10.
Austur equo fidens. ' '
368 F. G. HUBBARD.
In the following discussion of the use of the forms of
repetition and parallelism in the works of dramatists and in
single plays, for purposes of comparison, tables are given
showing the number of cases of each form in each play
considered. In making the count a little freedom has been
given to the limits of the half line. In form 3, where the
first half of a line is parallel to the second half, those cases
also have been counted in which the line consists of parallel
expressions joined by a conjunction, or in common construc-
tion with a word or two outside the parallel expressions.1
In forms 6 and 7, where half lines of successive verses are
parallel, in most cases counted the parallelism extends to
more than an exact half line, in some cases to a little less.
In form 8, parallelism of whole lines, it has not been con-
sidered essential that there be exact parallelism in every
part ; those cases also have been counted in which there is
some variation in the middle or at the very end of the lines.
In form 9, parallelism of alternate lines, there has been
made no subdivision into varieties on the basis of the extent
of the parallelism, whether to whole lines, half lines, or less.
THE ENGLISH SENECAN PLAYS.
The Latin plays attributed to Seneca contain a moderate
amount of repetition and parallelism. Parallelism that is
1 Examples : "Thy cursed father, and thy conquered selfe."
Spanish Tragedy, in, 7, 64.
"Thus to forbid me land? to slay my friends?"
Misfortunes of Arthur, in, 1.
"In brief, you fear, I hope ; you doubt, I dare."
Misfortunes of Arthur, n, 3.
"If their assents be slow, my wrath is swift."
Misfortunes of Arthur, II, 2.
"Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace."
Richard III, m, 7, 16.
REPETITION AND PARALLELISM.
369
related to verse structure l does not generally extend beyond
three words ; whole line parallels are very rare. The Eng-
lish translations of Seneca (" English Seneca ") 2 have much
repetition, but only a comparatively small amount of extended
parallelism ; almost every page will show one or two ex-
amples of successive lines beginning with the same word or
two, but half-line parallels, whole line parallels, and alter-
nate parallels are of rare occurrence.
An examination of the English plays that copy and
imitate Seneca shows in most cases a large amount of repeti-
tion and parallelism. A few of these plays have but a
comparatively small amount, but most of them have an
amount much larger than that found in other plays of the
same period. Generally speaking, the nearer the play is to
Seneca the more repetition and parallelism it has. The
following table shows the number of examples of each form
in each of seven English Senecan plays.
Senecan Plays.
Form3
1
?
3
4
ft
6
7
8
q
10
Gorboduc*
3
97
14
13
3
Misfortunes of Arthur
7
3
Ifi
18
17
?3
3
To/ncred and Gismonda
7
?,0
16
1
q
Locrinc ,•
ft
1?
ft
?1
4
16
4
37
21
3
Spanish Tragedy
1
q
?6
2
7
1
?3
8
2
Soliman and Perseda
ft
18
1
8
4
30
4
3
Titus Andronicus
1
W
3
13
1
17
?,
1
1Cf. pp. 361-2.
2 Publications of the Spenser Society, Nos. 43 and 44.
3 For description of the forms see pp. 362-7.
* Where no figures are given, no examples have been observed.
370 F. G. HUBBARD.
THOMAS KYD.
A discussion of all the questions connected with the
authorship of the various plays attributed to Thomas Kyd
is aside from the purpose of this study. Modern authorities
are fairly well agreed that he is the author of The Spanish
Tragedy, Soliman and Perseda, Cornelia, translated from the
French of Robert Gamier, and the Ur-Hamlet.
The author of the Spanish Tragedy was excessively fond
of parallelism ; only one play, Locrine, shows as great a
variety of forms as does The Spanish Tragedy, and very few
plays show so great an amount of parallel structure. Soliman
and Perseda has almost as great a variety of forms as that
found in The Spanish Tragedy. A comparative study of the
two plays with respect to the occurrence of these forms offers
an additional bit of evidence in favor of the conclusion that
they are the work of the same author.1 The Tragedy of
Cornelia does not show as many examples as the two plays
just considered, but the difference is not very marked, except
in the case of whole-line parallels, where Cornelia has but
nine cases, The Spanish Tragedy 1 8, and Soliman and Perseda
30. A comparison of Kyd's translation with the French
original shows substantially the same amount of repetition
and parallelism in each.
In connection with Kyd is to be considered the question
of The First Part of Jeronimo. Authorities differ widely in
regard to the authorship of this play, its relation to The
Spanish Tragedy, and the relation of the version printed in
1605 to the version of 1592, referred to in Henslowe's
diary.2 Schick notes that Tfie First Part of Jeronimo is inde-
1 Cf. G. Sarrazin, Thomas Kyd und sein Rreis, Berlin, 1892, p. 3.
2F. S. Boas, The Works of Thomas Kyd, Introd., xxxix-xliv ; Ward,
History of English Dramatic Literature, 2d ed., I, pp. 308-9 ; A. H. Thorn-
dike, Modern Language Notes, 17, pp. 143-4 ; Sarrazin, Thomas Kyd und
REPETITION AND PARALLELISM.
371
pendent of any Senecan model.1 An examination of the use
of repetition and parallelism in the play confirms this, and
brings out a striking contrast with The Spanish Tragedy.
There are in The Spanish Tragedy seven cases of half-line
parallels (form 6), as against three in The First Part of
Jeronimo ; 23 cases of whole-line parallels (form 8), as against
three ; four cases of alternate parallelism (form 9), as against
none ; three cases of progressive parallelism, as against none.
Allowance, of course, must be made for the fact that The First
Part of Jeronimo is less than half the length of The Spanish
Tragedy; but even then the fact remains that one of the most
striking characteristics of The Spanish Tragedy is almost
entirely wanting from The First Part of Jeronimo.
Kyd's Plays and The First Part of Jeronimo.
Form
1
?,
8
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
5
18
1
8
4
80
4
3
(Jomdia
8
?0
11
9
3
Spanish Tragedy
1
q
?6
?
7
1
?8
8
2
First Part of Jeronimo
3
7
16
4
8
EGBERT GREENE.
The plays of Greene show but a moderate use of repetition
and parallelism, with the exception of A Looking Glass for
London and England. In this play Lodge collaborated with
Greene, and it is probable that much of the parallelism found
sein Kreis, pp. 54-58 ; R. Fischer, Zur Kunstenturicklung der Englischen
Tragoedie, Strassburg, 1893, pp. 100-112 ; J. Schick, The Spanish Tragedy,
London, 1898, Preface, pp. xvi-xviii.
1 The Spanish Tragedy, Preface, p. xvii, "we note, further, its independ-
ence of any Senecan model. ' '
372
F. G. HUBBAKD.
in it is from his pen, for the reason that he uses it freely in
his own play, The Wounds of Civil War.
Dr. Grosart, upon rather scanty and unconvincing evi-
dence, has attributed to Greene Selimus and Titus Andronicus.1
Selimus contains a comparatively small amount of parallel-
ism ; the number of cases is about the same as that found in
Alphonsus of Arragon, but much smaller than that found
in James IV and A Looking Glass for London and England.
Titus Andronicus, on the other hand, shows these forms in
rather free use. Now one of Grosart' s strongest arguments
for Greene's authorship of Titus Andronicus is based upon
points of resemblance between that play and Selimus. In
respect to the use of repetition and parallelism there is a
very marked difference between the two plays.
Greene's Plays; Wounds of Civil War, Selimus, Titus
Andronicus.
Form
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
James IV.
4
1?
1
1?
1
10
1
Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay
1
?0
9,
1
8
Alphonsus of Arragon
3
4
1
3
Looking Glass for London & England..
Wounds of Civil War ( Lodge ).
3
7
13
14
1
1
20
13
?,
17
26
?!
1
Selimus
1
W
1
6
4
4
Titus Andronicus
1
W
3
13
1
17
9,
1
GEORGE PEELE.
In Peele's plays there is found a large variety of forms
of repetition and parallelism, but the number of cases of any
one form is not large. Most noticeable is the number of
1 Greene's Life and Works, Huth Library, vol. I, Introd., pp. Lxxi-lxxvii ;
Englische Studien, 22, pp. 389-436.
REPETITION AND PARALLELISM. 373
cases of form 2, repetition with added epithet.1 This is a
very rare form ; I have found it outside Peele' s works only
in Misfortunes of Arthur (three times), 1st Henry VI (once),
and Locrine (ten times) ; in Peele I have noted eighteen
cases. Peele' s plays also afford a few examples of progres-
sive repetition and parallelism (form 10) ; these are short
and simple, very different from the elaborate structures
found in Locrine and The Spanish Tragedy.
By some authorities Peele is held to be the author of
Locrine.2 This play was first printed in 1595 as "Newly
set forth overseene and corrected by W. S. ; " it was one
of the six plays that were added to the 3d and 4th folio
editions of Shakespeare. The question of the authorship of
the play has long been in dispute, and is still unsettled. It
has been considered to be a very early work of Shakespeare's,
closely associated with Titus Andronicus; some have assigned
it to Marlowe, others to Greene, and still others to Peele.3
The latest and most extended discussion of the question is
by Mr. "W. S. Gaud,4 who presents the case for Peele,
particularly as against the claims of Greene. The evidence
1 Examples : " this sword, this thirsty sword."
Edward I, 5, 27.
" to the gates of death and hell
Pale death and hell."
Battle of Alcazar, I, 1, 122-3.
See p. 363.
2 Ward, English Dramatic Literature, n, p. 220 ; Fleay, Biographical
Chronicle of the English Drama, n, p. 321 ; Schelling, English Chronicle Play,
p. 25. Cf. Ulrici, Shakespeare's Dramatic Art, translated by L. Dora Schmitz
(Bonn's Library), n, p. 378.
3 Tieck, AU-Englisches Theater, Berlin, 1811, n, pp. iv-vii ; Malone,
Supplement to the Edition of Shakespeare' s Plays, &c., London, 1780, n, p.
190 ; Ulrici, Shakespeare's Dramatic Art, n, pp. 375-378 ; J. P. Collier,
Biographical and Critical Account, &c., New York, 1866, 4 vols., I, 119 ; J.
A. Symonds, Shakspere's Predecessors in the English Drama, p. 368 and note ;
Sidney Lee, National Dictionary of Biography, 56, p. 399.
* Modern Philology, I, pp. 409-422.
12
374
F. Q. HUBBAED.
presented is for the most part negative, and the resemblances
pointed out between Locrine and the works of Peele are
neither numerous enough nor close enough to warrant the
conclusion that Peele is the author of the play. I do not
wish to enter into a discussion of the question here, but
would call attention to one very striking characteristic of
Locrine that appears to have been overlooked by all who
have discussed the question of its authorship ; I refer to the
excessive amount of repetition and parallelism found in it.
No other play of the earlier Elizabethan drama contains so
many examples, such elaborate ones, and so great a variety
of forms. A comparison of the play with the works of
Peele will serve to make this plain.1 Particularly significant
is the difference between Locrine and The Battle of Alcazar,
which is nearest to Locrine in form and subject. It may be
unreasonable to maintain that the evidence brought out by
this comparison is of itself sufficient to prove that Locrine
cannot be the work of Peele, nevertheless it is surely true
that there can be no satisfactory solution of this question of
authorship upon internal evidence that does not take into
account this very striking characteristic of the play.
Peele?s Plays and Locrine.
Form
1
?,
8
4
6
6
7
8
9
10
Arraignment of Paris..
1
18
8
9
?
Old Wives' Tale
1
1
6
1
David and Bethsabe
3
3
4
17
1
4
3
ft
1
Edward I
1
q
6
10
3
8
?,
Battle of Alcazar
9
6
2
17
1
5
1
6
1
?,
Total
14
19
13
68
2
90
4
?1
ft
4
Locrine
6
1?
5
91
4
16
4
37
91
3
1 See table following.
REPETITION AND PARALLELISM. 375
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE.
The last of the predecessors of Shakespeare to be con-
sidered is Marlowe. In his plays there is found a rather
surprising absence of repetition and parallelism ; he frequently
begins successive lines with the same word or two (120 cases
noted in the seven plays), but other forms occur in small
numbers.1
In an earlier part of this study I have shown that the
frequent occurrence of repetition and parallelism is a rather
marked characteristic of the English Senecan plays.2 Now
it is to be noted that Marlowe's plays are in this respect
very different from the Senecan plays (compare table, p. 376,
with table, p. 369). Marlowe's practice in this matter is
entirely consistent with his practice respecting other marked
Senecan characteristics. He never makes use of the dumb
show ; there is no instance of a ghost in his plays ; the
messenger is never used for narration ; the chorus is used
only in Doctor Faustus, and here it merely supplies informa-
tion to introduce and connect some of the scenes ; 3 there are
only two instances of stichomythia.4 To just what extent
Marlowe was influenced by Seneca directly, or indirectly
through the English Senecan plays has not been determined.
Cunliffe speaks of two particulars, " horror of incident and
exaggeration of expression," and notes the absence of " the
sage reflections with which Seneca adorned his plays." 5 In
the discussion of Marlowe's influence upon his contempora-
ries, due consideration has not hitherto been given to the
absence from his plays of the Senecan characteristics that
1 See table following. * See p. 369.'
8 The speech of the chorus at the end of the play is to be excepted
from this general statement. Cf. Fischer, Kunstentwicklung der Englischen
Tragoedie, p. 76.
* Edward II, i, 4, 319-27 ; n, 2, 223-35.
5 The Influence of Seneca on Elizabethan Tragedy, pp. 59-60.
376
F. G. HUBBAED.
have been mentioned above, — dumb show, the ghost, the
messenger, the chorus, stichomythia, repetition and parallelism.
Marlowe's Plays.
Form
1
2
3
4
6
6
7
8
9
10
Tamburlaine I.
1
?5
8
4
2
15
1
4
Jew of Malta
3
99
1
4
Faustus ,
1
13
1
1
1
1
Edward II.
2
18
10
2
6
1
Massacre at Paris
2
14
3
1
?,
1
1
Dido
1
13
1
1
5
1
Total
10
T>0
?,5
f>
96
5
9
2D HENRY VI, 3o HENRY IV, AND RICHARD III.
The three Shakespearian plays, 2d Henry VI, 3d Henry
IV, and Richard III, are very rich in examples of repetition
and parallelism ; 3d Henry VI and Richard III resemble in
this respect the most characteristic Senecan plays, such as
Locrine and The Spanish Tragedy.1 Of half-line parallels
(form 6) 3d Henry VI has 26 cases, Richard III 23, Locrine
16, Spanish Tragedy 7 ; of whole-line parallels (form 8) 3d
Henry VI has 21 cases, Richard III 23, Locrine 37, Spanish
Tragedy 23 ; of alternate parallelism (form 9) 3d Henry VI
has 8 cases, Richard III 11, Locrine 21, Spanish Tragedy 4.
These three plays belong to the so-called Marlowe-Shake-
speare Group ; 2 the influence of Marlowe upon them and
1 Compare table, p. 377, with table, p. 369. Cf. Kramer, tfber Stichomythie
und Gleichklang in den Dramen Shakespeares, Duisburg, 1889.
2 E. Dowden, Shakspere — His Mind and Art, Preface to 3d edition ; F. G.
Fleay, Chronicle History of the Life and Works of William Shakespeare, pp.
255-283 ; Schelling, English Chronicle Play, chapter iv ; Verity, The Influ-
ence of Christopher Marlowe on Shakespeare' s Earlier Style, p. 73, note.
REPETITION AND PARALLELISM.
377
his part in their composition has been variously estimated by
Shakespearian scholars. I have shown that Marlowe's plays
are devoid of certain marked Senecan characteristics.1 Now
these three plays, which are held to show evidence of
Marlowe's influence or collaboration, have in a marked
degree these same Senecan characteristics that are absent
from Marlowe's work. This fact will have to be taken into
account in the discussion of Marlowe's influence upon these
plays or his part in their composition. This fact, too, in
connection with others too remote to be discussed here, will
warrant the general statement that Marlowe is more free
from the influence of the English Senecan drama than
Shakespeare is.
Shakespearian Plays.
Form
1
s
3
4
5
fi
7
8
9
10
Titus A. ndronicus
1
m
3
13
1
17
fl
1
1st Henry VI*
1
16
1
4
fl
1ft
Sd Henry VI.
3
4
18
8
11
3
17
9,
Sd Henry VI.
ft
3ft
7
flfi
3
?1
8
Richard III.
8
391
fl3
fi
?6
11
To the discussion of the vexed question of the authorship
of the £d and 3d Parts of Henry VI and the relation of these
plays respectively to The First Part of the Contention and The
True Tragedy of Richard, Duke of York, this investigation
brings one point. A comparison of The Contention and The
True Tragedy, on the one hand, with the %d and 3d Parts
of Henry VI, on the other, with reference to the use of repe-
tition and parallelism gives the following results.2 There
are in %d Henry VI, 8 cases in which that play retains
parallel structure found in The Contention, two cases in which
1 Pp. 375-6.
2 Only those cases have been counted in which the parallelism extends to
a half line or more.
378 F. G. HUBBABD.
parallel structure is not retained, and 22 cases in which
parallel structure has been added to %d Henry VI. In 12
of the last cases, the parallel structure is found in additions
of new material (i. e., material found in ®d Henry VI that is
not found in The Contention); in six cases, the substance
is found in The Contention, but the form has been changed in
2d Henry VI, to obtain the effect of parallelism ; in three cases,
a line has been added parallel to its next neighbor ; in one
case, the wording of a line has been changed, to make it
parallel to another, which is kept as in The Contention. In
3d Henry VI there are 28 cases in which parallel structure
found in The True Tragedy is retained, one case in which
parallel structure is not retained, and 34 cases in which
parallel structure has been added to 3d Henry VI. In 20
of the last cases, the parallel structure is found in additions
of new material (i. e., material found in 3d Henry VI that is
not found in The True Tragedy); in two cases, the wording
has been changed to make the parallel closer ; in 12 cases, a
line has been added parallel to its next neighbor; in one
case, a passage of three parallel lines has been expanded to
five by the insertion of parallel lines between the first and
second, and between the second and third.1
1 The following examples will illustrate the manner in which parallelism
has been added.
" Her looks are all replete with majesty."
True Tragedy, 1. 1281 (Bankside Shakespeare).
"Her looks do argue her replete with modesty ;
Her works do show her wit incomparable."
3d Henry VI, in, 2, 84-5.
"Did I let pass the abuse done to my niece ?
Did I impale him with the regal crown,
And thrust king Henry from his native home? "
True Tragedy, 11. 1476-8.
" Did I let pass the abuse done to my niece ?
Did I impale him with the regal crown ?
Did I put Henry from his native right?"
3d Henry VI, in, 3, 188-90.
REPETITION AND PARALLELISM. 379
%d and 3d Henry VI, then, have much more repetition
and parallelism than The Contention and The True Tragedy,
and 3d Henry IV shows a greater increase than %d Henry
IV; moreover, this increase in the two plays shows itself
not only where there is difference of substance, but also
where the substance is practically the same. The points
brought out above are in themselves too small to serve as a
basis for any large induction ; they may, however, be of
some seryice to future investigation into the authorship and
relation of these plays.
Shakespearian scholars have for a long time noted the
classical or, more particularly, Senecan characteristics of
Richard III, and some have held that Shakespeare's drama
is based upon an earlier play, probably of the English
Senecan school.1 The great abundance of repetition and
parallelism in the play is an additional Senecan feature of
Richard III not noted before ; it may help to define further
the character of the pre-Shakespearian play upon which
Richard III is based.
F. G. HUBBARD.
" That knows not how to use embassadors,
Nor how to use your brothers brotherly,
Nor how to shroud yourself from enemies."
True Tragedy, 11. 1680-2.
"That know not how to use ambassadors,
Nor how to be contented with one wife,
Nor how to use your brothers brotherly,
Nor how to study for the people' s welfare,
Nor how to shroud yourself from enemies?"
3d Henry VI, IV, 3, 36-40.
1 Dowden, Shakespeare — His Mind and Art, p. 191 ; Brandes, William
Shakespeare, Leipzig, 1896, pp. 192-3 ; Moulton, Shakespeare as a Dramatic
Artist, chapter v ; Schelling, English Chronicle Play, p. 94 ; Cunliffe, The
Influence of Seneca on Elizabethan Tragedy, pp. 73-9 ; T. Vatke, Jahrbuch der
Deutschen Shakespeare Gesellschaft, IV, p. 67 ; Churchill, Eichard the Third up
to Shakespeare, pp. 531-4.
XII.— UNPUBLISHED MANUSCRIPTS OF
ITALIAN BESTIARIES.
Before the history of Italian bestiary literature can be
satisfactorily written, considerable preliminary work remains
to be done. When Lauchert published his Geschichte des
Physiologies (Strassburg, 1889), although he devoted a
certain amount of space to the poets from the Sicilian school
to Ariosto,1 he was not aware that any bestiaries earlier than
that of Leonardo da Vinci existed in Italian prose. Three
years later, Goldstaub and Wendriner, Ein Tosco- Venezian-
ischer Bestiarius (Halle, 1892), published the text of a
manuscript belonging to the Biblioteca Comunale at Padua,
and also an account of seven other manuscripts, all of which
are in Florentine libraries. This book (cited hereafter as
G-W) is the most comprehensive study of the Italian
bestiaries now available, and may safely be taken as the
basis for further investigation. The present paper, based in
large part on work done in the libraries of Florence, Naples
and Paris, is offered as a contribution to the study of the
subject, and will, it is hoped, be of value in indicating a
large amount of material, including several important manu-
scripts, which was entirely unknown to Goldstaub and
"Wendriner. An important phase of the subject, namely,
the use of bestiary material by the Italian poets of the
thirteenth century, has been investigated by Dr. M. S.
Garver, of Yale University, in a dissertation which he hopes
to publish soon.
1 See pp. 187-91. Cf. his review of Goldstaub and Wendriner, in Gotting-
ische gdehrte Anzeigen, 1892, p. 756 : Wahrend Bestiarien in Prosa .... in
italienischer Sprache bisher nicht bekannt waren, haben in jiingster Zeit
die Herausgeber der vorliegenden Publication eine Anzahl von italienischen
Bestiarien-Handschriften .... entdeckt.
380
ITALIAN BESTIARIES. 381
Of the eight manuscripts studied by Goldstaub and
Wendriner, two l will be entirely disregarded in this paper,
since they present isolated versions that are related only in a
very general way to the other Italian, as well as to the
Waldensian and French bestiaries. The remaining six
manuscripts 2 form with those to be mentioned presently a
group that goes back to a single Italian original. The
attempt to determine the date and the contents of this
original is complicated by the much later date and the wide
divergences of text in the case of the existing manuscripts.
In copying works formed of short, independent paragraphs,
each scribe was apt to make such additions, omissions, or
other changes as he saw fit.3 Goldstaub uses as a guide in
determining the date of different portions of the text, the
character of the allegorical signification ascribed to the
different animals. In the original Physiologus and in
derivatives down to the thirteenth century, the allegory was
mystical ; the animals were used as symbols of Christ, the
church, the devil, and so on. In the thirteenth century,
this method gave way to a moralizing tendency. Later still,
1 R4 and St, although the former in certain parts does show some relation-
ship to the other MBS. ; see G-W, p. 104. I disregard also the Bestiario
moralizzato, in sonnets of the thirteenth century, published by Monaci in
1889 ; the Mare amoroso, sometimes ascribed to Brunette Latini ; and the
bestiary portion of Cecco d' Ascoli's Acerba, which latter is being studied by
Mr. J. P. Rice of Yale University. An unpublished MS. in the Vatican
Library, Cod. Capponiano 200, of the fourteenth century, contains, ff.
233-7, "La propietsL d' alcuno animale ; " judging from the brief quotation
in Salvo-Cozzo, Codiei Capponiani ddla Bib. Vat., Roma, 1897, this text
has no relation to our MSS.
2 Three in the Riccardian Library, called in G-W : Ru Rj, Rj ; two in
the Laurentian : LM L2 ; and the text published : P. I keep these sym-
bols, except that I shall call the Padua MS. "Pad" to distinguish it from
the Paris MS., "Par." To the other new MSS. I give similar symbols, as
N for Naples ; Stt for Strozzi, to distinguish from the St of G-W, which
might now be called St2 ; etc.
"Cf. G-W, pp. 10, 90.
382 KENNETH McKENZIE.
the significations were often omitted, leaving merely the
quasi-scientific descriptions; and sometimes the character-
istics of animals, made known through the bestiaries, were
used for comparisons in love-poetry. Additional animals
increased the original number, and the original texts were
expanded by new characteristics, examples, and illustrations.
Thus in many bestiaries the well-known fable of the dog
dropping his food into the water in order to get the reflec-
tion is told as a regular characteristic of dogs.1 Now, while
the Italian versions as a rule follow the didactic or moraliz-
ing type of allegory, some of them have traces of the older
mystical interpretation which was characteristic of Physiolo-
gus-versions proper, as distinguished from bestiaries in
general. Hence Goldstaub concludes2 that the original
Italian version must have been made in the twelfth century,
or at any rate not later than the beginning of the thirteenth.
The acceptance of so early a date seems to me out of the
question when one considers the history of Italian literature.
Doubtless the original Italian Physiologus was translated
about the middle of the thirteenth century, from Latin texts
of earlier date. Some time may have passed, after the
production of this original Italian version, before the com-
position of the derivative version (or, possibly, closely
related versions) from which were derived in turn the
manuscripts now known. Goldstaub assigns a century or
more to this period of development, for he dates the arche-
type of his six manuscripts well along in the fourteenth
century ; he thinks that while the development may have
taken place entirely in Italian, it more probably took place
simultaneously in a series of versions, now lost, in Latin as
well as in Italian.3 A part of the Latin manuscript known
as Cod. Hamilton 390, now in Berlin, dating from the
1 Cf. G-W, pp. 327-35. »G-W, p. 230.
3 G-W, pp. 222-32.
ITALIAN BESTIARIES. 383
thirteenth century, is a stray remnant of some such version.1
But the date assigned for the archetype of the Italian
manuscripts must be scrutinized in the light of the new
material now presented.
The oldest of the six manuscripts known to Goldstaub is
Ru of the second half of the fourteenth century. This
is also the most voluminous of the whole group of manu-
scripts ; it contains 61 animal-chapters, followed by 16
fables. Closely related to it in text and content are R2 and
R3, the latter containing 57 animals and 15 fables. Pad,
the published text, was written in 1468 ; it contains 46
animals and 1 1 fables, all of which are also in the R-texts ;
but the text of Pad is much condensed, and shows marked
influence of the Venetian dialect (the other texts being
Tuscan). L^ and L2 are still shorter, and do not contain
this collection of fables, although Lx has a different collec-
tion of 57 fables, being an unpublished text of the Italian
translation from Marie de France.2 It must have seemed a
natural and obvious expedient to round out a bestiary, or
collection of descriptions of animals arranged for a didactic
purpose, by adding to it a collection of fables, or tales about
animals, which were universally used in the Middle Ages for
the same purpose ; and in general these two branches of
animal-lore mutually influenced one another, and were drawn
on indiscriminately by the compilers of such works as the
Fiore di Virtil, and by sculptors and miniaturists in search
of subjects both decorative and symbolic. The collection of
1 The collection of examples in this MS., which I shall refer to as " Ham,"
was published by Tobler, Lateinisehe Beispielsammlung mil Bildern, in Zeit-
schrift f. ram. phil., xn, 57-88. Tobler has also published the rest of the
MS. in various periodicals, beginning with the Abhandlungen der Akademie
zu Berlin, 1883.
2 See Brush, The Isopo Laurenziano, Columbus, 1899, pp. 9, 44, 66. Brush
did not use G-W. For description and table of the six MSS., see G-W, pp.
74-89.
384 KENNETH McKENZIE.
fables, sixteen in number, which is found in whole or in part
in connection with the bestiary in several of the manuscripts,
is a peculiar one. It occurs nowhere else as a collection,
except that twelve of the fables are found in Latin in the
Cod. Hamilton, already mentioned. Some of them are
entirely unknown elsewhere, but six of them come from
Avianus. Of these fables, the eleven that are found in
Pad, and one other in N (see below), have been published.
I add to this paper the text of the sixteen fables, based
principally on R3.
Even a glance at the list of chapter-headings shows that
the three R-MSS. are closely related. Similarly, the two
L-MSS. form a group by themselves ; while Pad, on account
of its peculiar dialect, stands alone, having the fables in
common with R, but otherwise being closer to L. In this
way Goldstaub classifies the six manuscripts with which he
was acquainted ; but a study of the other manuscripts which
have come to light will perhaps modify the classification.
One of them, N, is very closely related to R ; while the rest
have characteristics, opposed to R, in common with Pad and
L. Hence we get two groups, rather than three, and the
fables are equally characteristic of both groups. It is easy
to infer, then, that the fables belonged to the archetype of
all the manuscripts, before the differentiation into groups.
The date of this archetype I believe to have been not later
than the third quarter of the thirteenth century. In this
connection, I should like to call attention to a feature that
Goldstaub ignored.
It is well known that the Provencal and Italian poets of
the thirteenth century made rather frequent use of metaphors
that were derived ultimately from the bestiaries, but had
become, more or less, common literary property. One poet,
however, Chiaro Davanzati, a Florentine, who died not later
than 1280, used these bestiary-metaphors so systematically
ITALIAN BESTIARIES. 385
that it is evident that he must have had access to some
bestiary-manuscript.1 The investigations of Dr. Garver,
already mentioned, show that this manuscript must have
been closely related to the R-group. Now, one of Chiaro's
sonnets, beginning :
Di penne di paone e d'altre assai
Vestita la corniglia a corte andau,
is a version of the familiar fable of the crow decked in
borrowed feathers.2 It is, moreover, a version of the popu-
lar type, as distinguished from the literary type represented
in the fable-books descended from Phsedrus and Romulus.
Of course, Chiaro might have derived his acquaintance with
the fable from one or more of many different sources ; but,
as a matter of fact, such versions of -ZEsopic fables are
exceedingly rare in Italian poets of the thirteenth century.
It is certainly significant, then, since Chiaro made use of a
bestiary-text, to find this particular fable in two of our
manuscripts, and in precisely the form desired. It is surely
natural to conclude that Chiaro used a manuscript which
contained both the bestiary and the fables ; and, conse-
quently, that the archetype of our Italian manuscripts may
be assigned to about the middle of the thirteenth century.
In the National Library at Naples is a fifteenth-century
1 This seems to have escaped the attention of Goldstaub, for there are no
references in G-W to the poems of the Cod. Vat. 3793 beyond vol. in of the
edition of D" Ancona and Comparetti, Le Antiche rime volgari, Bologna, 1875-
88 ; whereas the sonnets, containing most of the bestiary material, are in
vols. iv and v.
'IPAncona e Comparetti, op. til., vol. IV, p. 379 (No. 682). For a full
discussion, see K. McKenzie, A Sonnet ascribed to Chiaro Davanzati and its
place in Fable Literature, in Publications of the Modern Language Association
of America, vol. xm (1898), pp. 205-20. Cf. p. 217 : "He [Chiaro] says
enough to show distinctly which type he followed, though we are not able
to distinguish his immediate source ;" not knowing the text of this fable
in K! and N, the writer was at that time unable to form the theory now put
forward.
386 KENNETH McKENZIE.
paper manuscript numbered xn. E. 11, with 94 folios,
containing a text very closely related to the R-MSS. There
are 54 bestiary chapters and 15 fables, each chapter being
illustrated with a water-color drawing, and the whole hi
excellent preservation. This text is unique in being ascribed
to Frate Guidotto da Bologna. It begins (f. 1 a) :
Comincia ilibro della virtu e proprieta degli animali
ridotto allo spirito per Frate Ghuidotto da Bologna.
Et e chiamato fiore di virtu maggiore.
and ends (f. 94 b) :
Laus deo. A di primo di Marco 1482. Finite e libro
degli animali chiamato Fiore di virtu maggiore.
This manuscript, which I call N, was briefly described and
its table of contents was given by Miola1 in 1881, together
with short extracts from the text (proemio, chapter on
formica, fable of pastore e serpente). The contents will be
indicated in the comparative table below. The text bears
about the same relation to Rt that R3 does. Agreements
between Rj and N as against R3 are about equally frequent
with agreements between Rj and R3 as against N. R3 and
N, which are about contemporary, rarely if ever agree with
one another as against Rw which is about a century older.
It follows that the younger manuscripts are derived from a
lost manuscript closely related to R1} if not from Rx itself.
The three texts agree very closely hi substance, and have in
1 Alfonso Miola, Le Scritture in volgare dei primi tre secoli della lingua
ricercate nei codici della Bib. Naz. di Napoli, in Propugnatore, XIV, ii, pp.
161-7. Mentioned also by Frati, Ricerche sid Fiore di Virtii, in Studj di
FUologia Romanza, VI (1893 ), 281 ; and by Gaspary, Italian Literature (Eng-
lish edition, 1901, p. 370), notes to ch. vni. A list of the fables is given
by Brush, Isopo Laurenziano, pp. 25, 41, who makes them number sixteen
by including the chapter on the ibis ; he speaks of the work as akin to the
Fiore di Virtil, and evidently did not know that it was a bestiary, or that
other texts of the same fables existed.
ITALIAN BESTIARIES. 387
common several chapters of a particular character, which are
in none of the other manuscripts.1
Ail the other manuscripts with which I am acquainted
belong to the group represented in G-W by Pad, Lx and L2.
Par and Stj, as well as N and the R and L manuscripts, I
have examined myself. The others I know only through
printed references or through information furnished to me
by other persons. These manuscripts have never been
compared, — indeed, scarcely any two of them have been
mentioned together. The most important one of the whole
group, Par, has never been mentioned in print at all, so far
as I am aware, except by its title in catalogues of the Italian
manuscripts in Paris. I will begin with this one.
It is a fine parchment manuscript of the fourteenth
century, in the Bibliothfcque Nationale, bearing the number
Ital. 450 (old number 7740 2). Unfortunately, it has been
shockingly mutilated by the cutting out of some of the
illustrations which adorned it, and by the loss of some entire
leaves. In its present state it contains, according to the
modern numbering, 73 folios, of which the bestiary and
fables occupy ff. 3-36. The leaves are about eleven by
eight inches (28 x 21 cm.) in size, written with two columns
to a page, about thirty-six lines to a column. The ink has
faded slightly, but the writing is generally distinct. Initial
letters are hi blue, chapter-headings in red. The pictures
which remain are skilfully drawn with a kind of wash,
several colors being used. The first two folios were appar-
ently taken from some other book to serve as fly-leaves ;
they are covered with minutely written and much abbrevi-
ated Latin, having neither beginning nor end. On f. 3 a,
which has been rubbed so as to be illegible in part, is the
1 Chapters 49-61 in Rt, most of which are also in E, and N. See G-W,
pp. 109-126, and cf. table below.
388 KENNETH McKENZIE.
beginning of the bestiary, with the same introduction that
the other manuscripts have :
Qui se coming lu libro del Animali et de uccielli et
del loro nature per belli exempli.
Belli Singnori tutte le cose che li homini del mondo
sano e puono sapere si sano, ecc.
The bestiary ends on f. 36 b with an unfinished chapter, Del
natura del Boe, of which twelve lines only are written ; the
rest of the page is blank, and on f. 37 a begins another work,
with this title :
Incomminciase lo libro delli costumi et regimento
delli segnori lu quale in altro modo se appella le secrete
delli secreti et fu dicfo et facto et composite daristotile
lu quale mando a lu magnifico Be Allexandro.
This work (of which there is another manuscript in the
same library, — Ital. 447) occupies thirty-three folios, and is
followed by two brief treatises on the moon and other
natural phenomena. Marsand gave a confused and mis-
leading description of this manuscript, apparently putting it
into his catalogue twice under the impression that there
were two manuscripts ; from his description we learn that
the missing illustrations had already been cut out in his day,
and this fact aroused his quite justifiable indignation : " Sono
barbaric anzi infamie tali, che mi rivoltano lo stomaco."
Mazzatinti's catalogue gives the titles of the different works
contained in the manuscript, but no further description.1
Since no account of this important bestiary-text is now
1 Antonio Marsand, I Manoscritti italiani delta reffia biblioteca parigina,
Parigi, vol. i, 1835 ; vol. n, 1838. See No. 87 in vol. i, (7740 ; "Qui si
comincia il libro degli animali," etc., membr., 2 col., sec. xv) and No. 709
in vol. n (77402 ; same title, membr., 2 col., sec. xiv) ; and cf. No. 88
(7740 bis ; " Cura de' falconi " ). Mazzatinti, Manoscritti italiani dette biblio-
teche di Franeia, Eoma, 1886, vol. I, gives our manuscript as No. 450,
formerly 77402, and the work on falcons as No. 928, formerly 7740. Mar-
sand distinctly states that there are two MSS. of the Libro degli animali.
ITALIAN BESTIARIES. 389
available, I give here its chapter-headings without any
change except that missing parts are supplied between [],
abbreviations are solved, and occasionally words are sepa-
rated. Pictures have been cut, carrying with them more or
less of the text, from the following folios : 14, 17, 20, 22,
24, 25, 28, 34. Curiously enough, the picture cut from
f. 25 has been preserved ; it appears as f. 31, a mere frag-
ment which fits into the hole in f. 25. Thus the number of
folios preserved, apparently thirty-four, is really thirty-three.
Then, as entire leaves are missing after f. 23 and f. 29, the
folios of this part of the manuscript originally numbered
thirty-five.
Folio 3 a Qui se cominca lu libro del Animal! et de uccielli et del loro
nature per belli exempli.
4 a Dela natura dela Formica
4b De natura dell'apa
5 a Delia natura dello ragno
Dela natura del Gallo
5 b De natura del Lupo
6 b Delia natura del asino saluatico
7 a Delia natura dela Cichala
Delia natura del Ceano
7 b Delia natura del Cane
8 a Delia natura della vipra
8 b Della natura dela scymia
9 a Del natura del corbo
9 b Della natura del Leone
10 b Dela natura della Bellula
11 a Della natura del Calandrupco
lib Della natura dela Serena
Dela natura d'uno serpente ch'a nome arpis (?)
12 a Della natura di quatro elementi
12 b De natura del Tyro (text: thygro)
13 a Della natura del vnicorno
13 b Della natura dela Pantera
14 a Della natura della Grua
14 b Dela natura del Paone
15 a Della natura della Rondina
15 b Dela natura del Riccio
16 a Della natura della calchatrice
13
390 KENNETH McKENZIE.
16',b Del natura dela vipra dragone
17 a Delia natura d' uno pescie lo quale si chiama uiglia
17 b Delia natura del pulichano
18 a Dela natura del Castore
18 b Delia natura del Piccho
Delia natura de Cigogna
19 a Delia natura delli falconi
19 b Delia natura del Voltore
20 a [Delia natur]a della Aquila (part cut out)
21 a Dela natura del Cauallo
Della natura delli columbi
21 b Dela natura dellu Strupgo
22 a Della natura della Balena
Della natura del vulpe
22 b [Della natura della Fenice] (tide and several lines of text gone)
Delia natura del Leofante
23 b Dela natura del papagallo
Della natura dela pernice (title only ; folio lost)
[Delia natura del Ceruo] (title and text lost ; picture, f. 24 a)
24 a [Lo pelo delo Lefante] (no title) *
Delia natura dele serpente
24 b Della natura e significanca d'un arbore
25 a Della natura [della Tortora] (part of title ont. 31 b)
D' uno pescatore
25 b De natura de Thori »
D'uno arbore
26 a D'unacapra
26 b Da uno uillano
27 a Della natura dela cichala
Della natura del Lupo
27 b D" uno crudelissimo Ladrone
28 a Della natura della Eana
28 b Dela natura del Topo
D'uno pastore
1 A chapter without heading begins f . 24 a : " Lo pelo delo Lefante ae
tale natura che lo fumo che escie de quello pelo si fae fugire," ecc. I do
not count this as a separate chapter, in spite of the fact that it appears to be
one in this manuscript, because in Ru K2, B3, N and Ham it is appended
to the chapter on the elephant. With it on f . 24 a appears a picture illus-
trating the characteristic of the stag as found in several other manuscripts ;
hence I infer that the chapter "Della natura del Ceruo" occupied, with
the text of the chapter "Della natura dela pernice," the lost folio that
originally came between f. 23 and f . 24.
ITALIAN BESTI ABIES. 391
29 a Dela natura del uolpe
D'uno cauallo grasso et vno magro
29 b Dela natura del Toro (unfinished ; folio lost) l
30 a Si como lo Leone si a tre nature dele quale se fa molte figure
Si como lo leone si a assai sentimento
30 b Si como lo Leone tornaua al monestero
Delia grande fede che lo leone monstro a uno chauallero perche
lu libero del serpente
32 a Si como lo Re de francia se daua merauiglia del sopradetto Leone
32 b Delle nature e della proprieta et delle figure della leonessa
33 a Dela natura del Leopardo
33 b Dela natura e dela figura et della proprieta dela Loncia
Della natura dell'artalupo
34 a Como li homini sonno ingannati ala dicta similitudine
Delia natura et della proprieta del vrso
34 b [Della natura] del lupo (title partly gone)
35 a Delia natura della lupa et dele sue figure
Della natura et proprietade del leofante
36 a Del natura del Volpe
36 b Del natura del Boe ( unfinished)
The text divides itself naturally into three parts : the
bestiary (ff. 3 a— 25 a), the fables (ff. 25a-29b), and a number
of supplementary chapters which do not appear in the other
manuscripts (ff. 30a-36b). The fables follow the bestiary
without break and without any distinction in regard to the
character of the material used for moral instruction.2 Like-
wise, no indication of a new division separates the second
part from the third, although it is possible that some such
indication existed on the folio that has been lost. The third
part is, however, written in a different spirit from the rest,
1The unfinished fable of the bull [lion, and goat], f. 29 b, was undoubt-
edly finished on the next page, now lost, and followed, as in Rj, Rj, and
N, by the fable of the lion's share.
J This is true in the other manuscripts also, where the explicit follows the
fables, and applies to the whole work ; that of N has been already given,
that of RS reads (f. 108 b) : " Finiscie Ilibro della natura degli animali deo
grazias amen." R,, Pad, and Par have no explicit. That the copyist of
Par, at least, regarded the fables merely as so many bestiary-chapters, is
indicated by his chapter-headings; e. jr., f. 27 a, "Della natura de la
cichala" is really the fable of the grass-hopper and the ant.
392 KENNETH McKENZIE.
as is shown by the extraordinary remarks that open it,
f. 30a:
Si como lo Leone si a tre nature dele quale se fa
molte figw?-e. Pone fiucloco, lo quale si come se sa fo
grande autore e sauio, che leone ha tre proprieta e
nature delle quale fae tre figure. Lassaremo le figure
alii predicatori e ali sermonatori che ad ogne materie
lo uognono adattare e diremo deli suo nature. La
pn'ma si e ch'ello diuenta irato, fero e fellone quando
ello vede li suoi figlioli nati morti sen9a neuno senti-
mento. La seconda e ch'elli gridando piu uolte forte-
mente, allora quelli figlioli se rescuteno, aprendo li
occhi, monstrando quasi che resuscitasseno da morte, ecc.
There seems to be no doubt that in the strange form fiucloco
we have the name Physiologus, here, as often in the Middle
Ages, taken for the name of a person.1 As a matter of feet,
when treated in his regular place in the bestiaries, the lion
has considerably more than three characteristics : he is the
noblest of all animals, wipes out his tracks with his tail,
sleeps with his eyes open, pays no attention to a person who
does not look at him or who begs for mercy, and so on ; one
characteristic is that his cubs are. born dead, but after three
days the lion roars and brings them to life.2 Now, why
*Cf. Lauchert, op. cit., p. 43; Gaston Paris, in Romania, xxrr, 626;
G-W. pp. 123-6. I have not, to be sure, found the name elsewhere in a
form resembling fiudoco ; presumably the copyist of Par heard it given
orally, and reproduced the sound as best he could.
2 Text, hitherto unpublished, of the chapter on the lion in EI, f. 12 b :
Lo leone si & la piu nobile bestia che sie, ed & apellatto signore del' altre
bestie per le nobile chonperacioni ch' egli a in se. E questa e" una delle
sue nature, ch' egli chuopre e disfa le pedate cola choda sua acio che chaci-
atori no lo trouino ne sapiano la uia onde egli 6 andatto. La sechonda
natura si £ che quando egli 6 ala cima del monte si disiende ala valle per
gran f orca e se alchuno chaciatore s' £ pasatto per la uia ond' egli vane, si lo
chonosie per 1'odore. E anche n'6 un altra che dorme chogli ochi aperti.
Anchora n'a un altra, ch' egli fa i figluoli suoi morti, e stano chosi tre die,
e in chapo di tre di viene lo padre e mughia sopra loro si fortemente che
lioncini si fano viui. L' altra natura si £ che quando egli mangia se alchuno
gli pasase dinanzi e nol guardono in visso si gli lascia andare sanza fargli
ITALIAN BESTIARIES. 393
does the author of Par, after giving (f. 9 b) a chapter on the
lion as the other manuscripts do, devote to the same subject
another chapter, which is in part a repetition of the former
one? Evidently, because the source from which he drew
this third part of the manuscript is different from the source
of the first two parts, — the latter source being common to
the whole group of manuscripts. In other words, after
making his declaration of independence in the matter of
allegorical significations, he added, for entertainment merely,
the supplementary chapters, which he derived from a source
or sources (whether in Italian or in some other language),
which cannot at present be pointed out. Following the
chapter in which the Physiologus is quoted come several
stories about lions, — neither bestiary material nor fables;
then the descriptions of several animals. Of these, lupo,
leofante and volpe have already appeared in the bestiary ;
while leonessa, loncia, and urso do not appear in the Italian
manuscripts, although known in other bestiaries. Of these
additional animals, only the so-called artalupo appears either
in the other related Italian manuscripts or in the original
Physiologus. In the latter it appears as antholops, — a name
which goes through strange transformations, appearing in
Latin as antilops and antula, in Brunetto Latini's Trisor as
antelu, in Spanish as altilobi, and in Italian as entulla
(Rj, R3), centula (N), antalos (Stg), antelleup (R4), ardalupo
(Bestiario moralizzato), finally becoming transferred to an
entirely different animal, the antelope.1 The text of this
chapter in Par begins as follows (f. 33 b) :
aid ni no male ; e s'eglino il guatano in visso, inchontanente chore loro adosso
et fa loro quello male che puote. L'altra natura si 6 che quando egli £ nella
selua e 1'uomo gli passa dinanzi e inginochiglisi a mano gunte e domandigli
merciede lo leone a merciede di luy .... (The allegorical interpretation
follows. Cf. text of Pad and elaborate discussion, G-W, pp. 24, 167 f . ,
287 f . )
1 See Century Dictionary, s. v. antdope and antilope ; Lauchert, op. cit., pp.
31, 301 ; G-W, p. 158, etc. ; B. Latini, livre I, c. 177 ; Monaci, Un Bestiario
396 KENNETH McKENZIE.
A quello tempo uno Be de Francia, el quale ebbe nome lodogio, lo
quale fu auno di quel lodogio che passo oltramare e presso fu a la mesura,
questo uecchio Lodogio fece grandissimo e alto passagio oltramare, en el
quale meno de molta bona gente et assay ; et fra gli altri meno uno nobele
chaualliero franciesco, lo quale ebbe nome Golfieri de lastore, siche essendo
lo dicto Ee a campo indella parte di dannaca, questo Golfieri de lastore
andando uno- gioino fore del campo a solacio, intro in una grande foresta ;
quiue trouo uno grandissimo Leone, lo quale inuerso lui uenne molto
humilemente e gichitamente, ingenocchiandose spesse uolte. Uedendo
qwesto, Golfieri, temendo, cortesemente si ricesso, e leone sempre allui cussi
uenia. Allora uedendo Golfieri che '1 leone non uenia fieramente ne
iratamente, ressesi e aspetto di presso, sie che s'auidde che questo leone
auea intorno alia gola uno serpente auolto, lo quale li tenea la testa indel
uno delli orecbie. Come lo leone fu di presso a Golfieri uenuto, in tutto
s'abandono in terra, monstrando per euedenti segni ch'elli chiereste merciede,
che in tutto 1'aitasse. Ed elli chussi fe, e misse mano a la spada che auea
alato, e misela tra lo collo del leone e del serpente, e tallio lo serpente per
meco si che lo leone fu liberato. E adesso Golfieri per gran tema si parti
tostamente. Lo leone pianamente e chetamente si s'en ua dirieto, e uenne
collui infine del campo del dicto Be, de la quale cosa la gente del campo si
faceano grande merauiglia ; si che uenuto Golfieri allo suo pauiglione, lo
leone si puose di fuoro, a le branche dinanti stesse e la boccha in su le
branche humilemente molto.
The tale is concluded in the following chapter; the lion
accompanies Golfieri, to the great wonder of the king and
the other crusaders; when the army sets sail for Europe, the
lion attempts to swim after the ship, and is drowned. The
text of the corresponding two chapters in the Chigi manu-
script'(Ch^ see below) was published in 1822 by F. de
Romanis, the first lines reading as follows :
In quello tempo che uno grande re di Francia lo
quale ebbe nome Lodogio, lo quale fue aulo di quel
Lodogio che passo oltre mare, e preso fue a la mensura
et poi passo in Tunisi e quivi mori , questo vecchio
Lodogio, ecc.
The second Lodogio mentioned was evidently Louis IX
(St. Louis, 1215-70), who went on two Crusades; on the
first, he captured Damietta in 1249, and was shortly after-
ITALIAN BESTIARIES. 397
wards taken prisoner at Mansourah ; l on the second, he
died of the plague at Tunis. His great-grandfather (auno =
aulo= avolo), Louis VII (1120-80), went on the Crusade
of 1147-9, and beseiged Damascus in 1148. The story of
Golfieri is, then, located there, — indetta parte di dannaca*
Curiously enough, Golfieri de lastore, or rather Golfier de
Las Tors, was a historical person, who is mentioned as
living in a document of 1126; he came from a place in
Limousin, now called Lastours, and took part in the first
Crusade ; and the adventure with the lion was widely told
in the Middle Ages as having happened to him at the
seige of Antioch in 1097. It has been suggested3 that
the story originated from the fact that a lion and a ser-
pent were carved on Golfier's tomb ; but more probably it
was brought to Europe by the Crusaders. It is referred
to as proverbial in the Chanson de la Oroisade contre les
Albigeois* and appears in several Latin chronicles, the
earliest being that of Jaufre" de Vigeois (1183). Its simi-
larity to the lion episode in the Ivain (Chevalier au lion)
of Crestien de Troyes has often been noted. While the
Italian version — not hitherto treated in this connection,
although published in 1822 — is more than a century later
1 Called by Joinville "La Massoure." De Romania did not see the
meaning of the words a la mensura, and attempted to explain them as
equivalent to perfrode ! These details in the life of St. Louis are mentioned,
e, g., by Villani, Istorie Florentine, lib. vn, cap. 37 ("Monsura").
1 Cht says : in de la parte di Damiata. This reading I take to be due to
confusion with the capture of Damietta by St. Louis. Cb.! calls the hero
of the story "Guelfieri dell' Astore."
3 See Romania, x, pp. 459, 591, and xxn, 358 ; Zeits.f. r. p., xxi, 404.
I have not seen the article by Arbellot, Les Chevaliers limousins a la pre-
miere croisade.
4 Ed. Paul Meyer, Paris, 1875-9, line 7548 ; see notes in vol. n, pp.
379, 528. On the chronicle, see Arbellot, Etude historique el bibliographique
sur Qeoffroy de Vigeois, Limoges, 1888. The story is also in Etienne de
Bourbon, ed. Lecoy de la Marche, p. 188.
396 KENNETH McKENZIE.
A quello tempo uno Re de Francia, el quale ebbe nome lodogio, lo
quale fu auno di quel lodogio che passo oltramare e presso fu a la mesura,
questo uecchio Lodogio fece grandissimo e alto passagio oltramare, en el
quale meno de molta bona gente et assay ; et fra gli altri meno uno nobele
chaualliero franciesco, lo quale ebbe nome Golfieri de lastore, siche essendo
lo dicto Re a campo indella parte di dannaca, questo Golfieri de lastore
andando uno- gioino fore del campo a solacio, intro in una grande foresta ;
quiue trouo uno grandissimo Leone, lo quale inuerso lui uenne molto
humilemente e gichitamente, ingenocchiandose spesse uolte. Uedendo
questo, Golfieri, temendo, cortesemente si ricesso, e leone sempre allui cussi
uenia. Allora uedendo Golfieri che '1 leone now. uenia fieramente ne
iratamente, ressesi e aspetto di presso, sie che s'auidde che questo leone
auea intorno alia gola uno serpente auolto, lo qttole li tenea la testa indel
uno delli orechie. Come lo leone fu di presso a Golfieri uenuto, in tutto
s'abandono in terra, monstrando per euedenti segni ch'elli chiereste merciede,
che in tutto 1'aitasse. Ed elli chussi fe, e misse mano a la spada che auea
alato, e misela tra lo collo del leone e del serpente, e tallio lo serpente per
meco si che lo leone fu liberato. E adesso Golfieri per gran tema si parti
tostamente. Lo leone pianamente e chetamente si s'en ua dirieto, e uenne
collui infine del campo del dicto Re, de la quale cosa la gente del campo si
faceano grande merauiglia ; si che uenuto Golfieri allo suo pauiglione, lo
leone si puose di fuoro, a le branche dinanti stesse e la boccha in su le
branche humilemente molto.
The tale is concluded in the following chapter; the lion
accompanies Golfieri, to the great wonder of the king and
the other crusaders; when the army sets sail for Europe, the
lion attempts to swim after the ship, and is drowned. The
text of the corresponding two chapters in the Chigi manu-
script'(Ch^ see below) was published in 1822 by F. de
Romania, the first lines reading as follows :
In quello tempo che uno grande re di Francia lo
quale ebbe nome Lodogio, lo quale fue aulo di quel
Lodogio che passd oltre mare, e preso fue a la mensura
et poi pass6 in Tunisi e quivi mort , questo vecchio
Lodogio, ecc.
The second Lodogio mentioned was evidently Louis IX
(St. Louis, 1215-70), who went on two Crusades; on the
first, he captured Damietta in 1249, and was shortly after-
ITALIAN BESTIARIES. 397
wards taken prisoner at Mansourah ; l on the second, he
died of the plague at Tunis. His great-grandfather (auno =
aulo= avolo), Louis VII (1120-80), went on the Crusade
of 1147-9, and beseiged Damascus in 1148. The story of
Golfieri is, then, located there, — indella parte di dannaca.2
Curiously enough, Golfieri de lastore, or rather Golfier de
Las Tors, was a historical person, who is mentioned as
living in a document of 1126; he came from a place in
Limousin, now called Lastours, and took part in the first
Crusade ; and the adventure with the lion was widely told
in the Middle Ages as having happened to him at the
seige of Antioch in 1097. It has been suggested3 that
the story originated from the fact that a lion and a ser-
pent were carved on Golfier's tomb ; but more probably it
was brought to Europe by the Crusaders. It is referred
to as proverbial in the Chanson de la Qroisade contre les
Albigeois* and appears in several Latin chronicles, the
earliest being that of Jaufre" de Vigeois (1183). Its simi-
larity to the lion episode in the Ivain (Chevalier au lion)
of Crestien de Troyes has often been noted. While the
Italian version — not hitherto treated in this connection,
although published in 1822 — is more than a century later
1 Called by Joinville "La Massoure." De Romanis did not see the
meaning of the words a la mensura, and attempted to explain them as
equivalent to perfrode ! These details in the life of St. Louis are mentioned,
e. g., by Villani, Istorie Florentine, lib. vu, cap. 37 ("Monsura").
* Chj says : in de la parte di Damiata. This reading I take to be due to
confusion with the capture of Damietta by St. Louis. Cl^ calls the hero
of the story "Guelfieri dell' Astore."
3 See Romania, x, pp. 459, 591, and xxn, 358 ; Zeits. f. r. p,, xxi, 404.
I have not seen the article by Arbellot, Les Chevaliers limousins d la pre-
miere croisade.
* Ed. Paul Meyer, Paris, 1875-9, line 7548 ; see notes in vol. n, pp.
379, 528. On the chronicle, see Arbellot, Etude historique et bibliographique
sur Geoffrey de Vigeois, Limoges, 1888. The story is also in Etienne de
Bourbon, ed. Lecoy de la Marche, p. 188.
398 KENNETH McKENZIE.
than the Ivain, nevertheless it is at least interesting to find
the story in connection with a bestiary. A similar story is
told of Rinaldo in Pulci's Morgante Maggiore, canto IV.1
After this long discussion of the interesting and important
Paris manuscript, the rest can be dismissed with compara-
tively few words. Much of what has been said about Par
will apply equally to Ch1} — a fourteenth century manuscript
in the Biblioteca Chigiana at Rome, with the signature :
M. vi. 137. This manuscript I know at present only
through three most unsatisfactory descriptions of it ; but
fortunately these descriptions give sufficient data to enable
us to compare it with Par.2 It was first described in 1822
by Filippo de Romanis, who published six extracts from it.3
These extracts were well chosen to give an idea of the
1For further references, see A. C. L. Brown, Twain, in Harvard Studies
and Notes, vni (1903), pp. 129-132; Foerster, Ivain, edition of 1902, p.
xxvi ; W. L. Holland, Crestien de Troyes, Tubingen, 1854, pp. 160-2 ; Fau-
riel, Histoire de la poesie provencale, Paris, 1846, n, 377-80 ; Michaud, His-
tory of the Crusades, New York, 1881, I, p. 180 ; Maimbourg, Histoire des
Croisades, Paris, 1687, I, 269 ; Johnston, in Proceedings of the Am. PhtioL
Assn., xxxii (1901), p. li ; Revue de V Orient latin, vrr, 334; Hare, South-
western France, London, 1890, p. 348. Prof. A. C. L. Brown and Prof. W.
A. Nitze inform me that they treat this matter in articles on Ivain which
they expect to publish during the present year. An important article on
Golfier has just appeared : A. Thomas, Le Roman de Ooufier de Lastours,
in Romania, xxxiv, 55-65.
2Goldstaub knew the brief description of Cha given by Zambini (see
below), but knowing neither MS. itself, nor the extracts in the E/emeridi,
nor Par, he was able to make no use of it ; cf. G-W, p. 82.
3 Saggio di un Codice Chigiano in lingua d' Italia del duecento, in Effemeridi
letterarie di Roma, nuova serie, torn, ix (1822), pp. 158-65. The article is
signed " F. R.," but the author's name is given by Zambrini. The descrip-
tion reads in part as follows: " Codice veramente antichissimo, in brutta
pergamena a due colonne, ornato di magre figure a colori si sconcie, e di
siffatta ortografia feminile [!], che non ho mai visto di peggio." F. R.
thought that the manuscript was written ' ' in Sicilia, e degli ultimi anni di
Carlo d'Angid pria che suonasse a Vespero." There is a file of this peri-
odical in the Boston Public Library.
ITALIAN BESTIARIES. 399
contents of the manuscript (in default of a table of contents,
which it did not occur to Romanis to publish) ; for they
correspond to chapters in each of the three parts of Par.
They are as follows : part of the proemio ; De la natura de
la Scimia ; De la grande fede che lo leone mostrd a uno Cava-
liere che lo liberd ; Sichome lo Rei di Francia si meravilliava
del sto Leone ; Uno pescatore ; De la compagnia de li quattro
tori; Uno arbore. Thus we have a chapter from the bestiary ;
two of the chapters in the last part ; and the first three of
the fables. Moreover, a comparison of the printed text
with the text of Par shows such close relationship that it
would not be difficult to assume that the one text was copied
from the other; especially since Chx contains at least two
of the chapters which are found elsewhere only in Par.
Zambrini refers to this article, and makes some additions
and corrections : * the title is " Incipit liber naturarum," not
" sententiarum " as Romanis said; the text begins "Belli
signori " (like the other manuscripts), not " Buoni ; " the
date is early fourteenth century, not thirteenth; the manu-
script is of parchment, two columns to the page (like Par),
has seventy-four folios, and bears the shelf-number given
above. Finally, E. Teza, in describing another manuscript
(Sn, see below), indicates the order of the first twenty-five
chapters in Chj, which corresponds exactly to the order
in Par.
Zambrini mentions another manuscript in the same library,
which, he says, contains a summary (sunto) of the treatise
in Chj. This is a paper manuscript of the end of the
fifteenth century, signature M. v. 117 ; the part referred to
covers only eleven folios, ff. 111-121. Zambrini mentions,
1 F. Zambrini, Le Opere wlgari a stampa dei secoli xm e xir, terza ediz.,
Bologna, 1866, pp. 400-2, s. v. Saggio ; and in subsequent editions ; but
lacking in the second edition.
400 KENNETH McKENZIE.
further, Cor (see below) and Rw quoting from the latter the
proemio and the chapter Delia natura e modi delle ape.1
There is in the Biblioteca Comunale at Siena a manuscript,
cod. I. ii. 4, which contains a part of the bestiary, — twenty-
four animal chapters, and two fables (Sn). I know nothing
of it except through the reference of E. Teza,2 who gives a
list of the chapters, and the text of the one on the unicorn.
This is not sufficient, without further information, to say
which of the other manuscripts is nearest to Sn.
A manuscript (Cor) in the Corsini Library at Rome is
mentioned by Zambrini,3 who assigns it to the fourteenth
century. To the great courtesy of Prof. Giuseppe Gabrieli,
librarian of the Accademia dei Lincei, I owe a valuable
account of the manuscript, with extended extracts. It bears
the signature : Corsinianus 44. G. 27 (Rossius), is on paper,
in folio size, and belongs to the second half of the fifteenth
(not fourteenth) century; it has 215 pages, of which the
bestiary, "Trattato della natura degli animali," occupies
pp. 195—211. The rest of the manuscript contains a number
of short pieces in prose and verse, mostly religious. Two
titles : " Passione di Cristo di Luca Pulci in verso," and
"La Guerra di Negroponte, poemetto di Jacopo da Prato,"
sufficiently indicate the date.4 The bestiary was adorned with
1 Loc. cit. In editions subsequent to the third the extracts of Rj are
omitted by Zambrini.
2 Otium Senense, in Eivista Critica d. lett. ital., I (1884), 154-7. Teza
mentions further a single leaf in the Archivio di Stato at Siena, containing
a fragment of the bestiary portion of Cecco d' Ascoli's Acerba (cf. same peri-
odical, n, 61). Goldstaub knew of the existence of Sn, but did not use it ;
cf. G-W, p. 256.
3 Loc. cit.; cf. G-W, p. 83.
4 According to Rossi, 11 Quattrocento, p. 250, Bernardo Pulci (1438-88),
not Luca (1431-70), wrote a poemetto in ottave on the Passion of Christ.
Negroponte (the island of Eubcea) was taken by the Turks from the Vene-
tians in 1470 ; a poem on the subject, printed anonymously at Florence
ITALIAN BESTIARIES. 401
pictures, of which many were cut out, as in the case of some
of the other manuscripts.1 The text begins with the usual
proendo :
Belli signiori, tutte le cose che li homini del mondo
sano e puono sapere si sanno per due strade principal!
le quali strade sono queste : la prima strada si e senno
e la secunda si e la scientia, ecc.
There are forty animals, whose arrangement is most similar
to the arrangement in L^ and L2, and hence not widely
different from that in Par and Pad. The last paragraph
is that on la pemice, followed by : Jfaplitit liber naturae
animalium.
In the Florentine libraries alone there are some thirty-
eight manuscripts of the Fiore di Virtii,2 a work of the end
of the thirteenth or beginning of the fourteenth century.3
This immensely popular work, being partly composed of
comparisons drawn from bestiaries,4 was, like the fables,
naturally suitable as a companion to a bestiary. We have
already seen that the sub-title of N is Fiore di Virtii
about 1471 and several times reprinted, is the same as the one here men-
tioned, according to Colomb de Batines, Appunti per la storm lett. d' Italia,
in L'Etruria, i (1851), 599 ff. Jacopo Modesti da Prato is mentioned by
I. del Lungo, Prose wlgari e poesie lot. e gr. del Poliziano, Firenze, 1867,
p. xviii, as a pupil of Poliziano.
1 This mutilation had already been made when the catalogue of the Kos-
sian library was printed, — Catalogus selectissimae bibliothecae Nicolai Rossii,
Komae, 1786, No. 27 ; a note on the title of the bestiary says : " Cum figu-
riis pictis, quarum multae abscissae sunt." This catalogue gives a list of
the contents ; the bestiary is preceded by " Elucidario, o sia Dialogo tra
maestro e discepolo in prosa," and is followed by "Canto dell' Assunzione
di M. Vergine in ottava rima," which closes the manuscript.
2 See the list given by T. Casini, Appunti sul Fiore di Virtii, in Rivista
Critica d. kit. ital., in (1886), 154-9.
3 Cf . Frati, Ricerche sul Fiore di Virtii, in StwLj di Fttologia Romanza, VI
(1893), 279.
4Cf. Varnhagen, Die Quellen der Bestidr-Abschnitte im Fiore di Virtii, in
Raccolta di Studi dedicate ad A. If Ancona, Firenze, 1901, 515-38.
402 KENNETH McKENZIE.
maggiore. Two manuscripts belonging to the Strozzi collec-
tion in the National Library at Florence contain the Fiore
di VirtU followed by a bestiary.1 In one, Cod. Magliabechiano,
xxi. 4. 135, the bestiary is entirely different from that in
the group of manuscripts we are studying ; it is ascribed to
Isidore of Seville. This text has been fully described by
Goldstaub, being called by him St.2 The other manuscript
was entirely neglected by Goldstaub, although he knew of
its existence.3 This is Cod. Magliabechiano, II. 8. 33, which
I call St^ It contains eighty numbered folios, of which
three were written later than the body of the text. On
f. 4 a begins the prologue :
O fatto chome cholui che e in uno prato grande di
fieri che aleggie tutta la cima di questi fiori per fare
vna nobile girlinda, vnde voglio che questo mio picciolo
lauorio si chiami fiore di virtute e di costumi, eec.*
The Fiore lasts to f. 5 8 a, and on f. 58 b the bestiary begins
without any break other than the usual chapter-heading in
red, which reads :
Dela formica et delo essemplo che douiamo pigliare
dallei.
The thirty-seven animal-chapters fill the rest of the manu-
script ; and that they were regarded as a part of the Fiore
is indicated by the ending, f. 80 a :
Explicit liber floris virtutis. Deo gratias amen.
Scritto per mano di me Giorgio di britio di rigoccio
per Pietro di nardo da radicofani nelli anni dorra'ni
Mcccc LXVIII adi xi di luglo.5
1Cf. Frati, op. cit., p. 281 ; and Casini, loc. dt.
2 See G-W, pp. 81 ff., 160 ff. I suggest that this text be called St,, to
distinguish it from Stj.
3 It was mentioned by Bartoli, Storia della letteratura itaiiana, HI, 348,
Firenze, 1880. Cf. G-W, p. 187.
*Cf. text of cod. Estense, Frati, op. dt., p. 430.
6 Casini, loc. dt., gives the date as 1368.
ITALIAN BESTIARIES. 403
The arrangement of the chapters is nearest to that of Par ;
but St^ has one chapter, serpente (biscia) which otherwise
occurs only in the R-group.1
The last manuscript that I have to mention is Cod.
Riccardiano 1764, of the fifteenth century (R5). It contains
a miscellaneous collection of short pieces, mostly religious ;
among them are two of the fables, — delta copra die pascieua
nel monte (f. 90 b) and della cichala et della formica (f. 91 a).
The text of the fables, which is very close to that of Par
(Nos. 4 and 6), was published in 1866 by Ghivizzani.2
The most important thing about this manuscript, however,
and one which I think has not hitherto been noted, is that
not only the two fables but four other short pieces which
immediately precede them are also in the Cod. Hamilton
390. This is not the place to discuss these tales on their
own account ; but it is noteworthy that through them and
the two fables, although it contains no bestiary, R5 forms a
connecting link between Ham and the bestiary-texts. I
two serpente chapters (biscia, aspido) are among those called by
G-W interpolations. On these and the other kinds of serpents, see G-W,
pp. 116-20, 278, 298-300.
3 Volgarizzamento delle Favole di Galfredo, Bologna, 1866, pp. 249-56.
This is the only one of our texts that Ghivizzani knew. Cf. Brush, op. cit.,
p. 6. Not mentioned in G-W. The manuscript is on paper, and contains
94 folios, about 15x20 cm. First come, hi prose or verse, legends, etc.,
of the Virgin and of Saints Giuliana, Barbara, Crestina, Teodora, Cristo-
fano ; a short treatise on physiognomy ( Fisonwnia) ; a collection of rhym-
ing proverbs alphabetically arranged, such as :
Amor now gia chura ragion ne misura.
Volpe ama frode e femmina lode.
Then a legend of three monks who went to theparadiso diluziano, beginning :
II paradiso diluziano si e in terra in questo mondo
nelle parti d'oriente ed e sopra vno monte altissimo, ecc.
There are other short pieces before the fables ; after them a paraphrase of
the Pater noster.
404
KENNETH McKENZIE.
give here a few words from the beginning of each of these
pieces : l
Ham : B6 :
No. 16.
f. 87 a.
Quidam homo stabat solus in terra Vno huomo staua allegro in terra
egypti religiosus et multum nomina- d'egitto et era religiose et molto
tus et tota die sedebat in cella solus nominato et tutto die sedeua in
in loco deserto. Et ecce quedam chamera sua solo in diserto luogo
mala femina. ... e chosi stando vn giorno eccho
venire vna ria femina. . . .
f. 88 a.
Elli fue vno monacho che auea
grande desiderio di carne. . . .
f. 89 a.
E fu vno huomo che lauoraua, . . .
f. 89 b.
Dve monaci si andorono a vna
cittade per uendere alquante cose
ched eglino aueuano lauorato. . . .
f. 90 b.
Una capra sisi pascieua in uno
alto monte et auenne che lo lupo. . . .
f. 91 a.
La cichala ando alia formicha di
uerno et sille disse dami del tuo
grano. . . .
No. 17.
Erat quidam monachus qui habe-
bat magnum desiderium de femina.
No. 18.
Erat quidam homo qui laborabat.
No. 24.
Dvo monachi uenerunt ad ciui-
tatem ut uenderent que abebant
laboratum. . . .
No. 13.
Una capra pascebat in uno alto
monte, tune uenit lupus. . . .
No. 15.
Cicada uenit ad formicam in yeme
et dixit ad earn da michi de grano
tuo. . . .
1 Text of Ham given by Tobler in Zeits. xii, as already noted ; cf. his
references, p. 85. The four tales are in various versions of the Vitae Patrum.
The first, second and fourth are in D. Cavalca's Volgarizzamento delle Vite
de' SantiPadri, nos. 139, 140, 128 (Parma, 1841, vol. vi) ; but the trans-
lation, though similar, is not the same. Whether they are in the collection
of saints' lives in E3, ff. 115 a-248 b, I am at present unable to say ; Es
contains also a trattalo di fisonomia, ff. 70 b-72 a.
ITALIAN BESTIARIES. 405
I close this part of my paper with a comparative table
of the manuscripts. G-W, pp. 82-9, gives a table, but it
is parallel, not comparative, and of course includes only the
manuscripts known to the authors in 1892. I take Rj as
the standard, because, with the exception of some additions
peculiar to one or two, it includes everything that the other
texts have ; all the rest, compared with the arrangement in
RI, fall short of the full number of chapters. R2 is omitted,
because its forty-two chapters correspond in order with Nos.
8-47, 49, and 50 of R3. Chj and Ch2 are omitted because
I have not been able to procure their tables of contents.
The names of the animals are slightly emended by compar-
ing the different texts ; where different names are given to
the same chapter, they are indicated. For convenience,
references to Ham (ed. Tobler) are added.
While it is not possible (cf. G-W, p. 92) to classify the
manuscripts thoroughly without making a comparison of
their text, nevertheless a certain general classification appears
in this table; and so far as I have been able to make a
comparison, the text confirms this classification. In Ri23
and N, picchio is followed by falcone, cicogna, avoltoio ; in
Par, Stj, Lj and Cor (cf. Pad, L2), the order is : picchio,
cicogna, falcone, avoltoio. In the second group, struzzolo
follows colombi ; in the first, these chapters are separated by
peredision and tortora, which come later in Par, Pad, and
Stj. R13 and N have additional chapters, — according to
G-W, an interpolation into the common stock that belonged
to the archetype. The fables are common to both these
groups, and follow in a body after the highest number in
the list of bestiary chapters (except in the case of N, where
the chapter Dwno uccetto chessi chiama Ibes comes among the
fables, immediately before the last one; while in Par, as
already explained, the chapter corresponding to entulla comes
14
406 KENNETH McKENZIE.
in the third part, after the fables). Par and Pad (with
fables and chapter on cervo), with Stj (no fables, but cervo,
bisda, aspido), form a sub-group (to which may be added
Sn and R5), as opposed to Cor, Lj (which end with pernice)
and L2. R4 has some of the interpolations of the first
group. Ham (cervo, bisda, and fables) may go with both
groups. Thus the following tentative classification of the
manuscripts appears :
Sec. xin [Italian archetype : bestiary, fables ; lost] ( Ham)
i n
(best., fab., interpolations) (best, fab.)
a. ( best., fab. ) b. (best)
Sec. xiv K! Par, Cb^
Sec. xv E2, E3 N, [E4] Pad, Sn, Stj, [K8] Cor, L,, L,
In regard to the title of the work, the manuscripts dis-
agree. Rj gives it as : il libro nomato virtu ddli alimali ;
and in the closely related N : ilibro detta virtu e propieta
degli animali .... chiamato fiore di virtu maggiore. On the
other hand, manuscripts from the different groups and sub-
groups agree in using the word natura ; Par : Libro del
Animali et de uccielli et del loro nature ; Lx : Liber nature
animalium; Chj : Liber naturarum; R3 : il libro della natura
delli animali (cf. R4 and St2 : Natura degli animali). Frati
(loc. dt.) thinks the title in Chx was the original one. Very
likely it belonged to the Latin source. But I am inclined
to adopt for the Italian text the title in R3 :
IL LIBRO DELLA NATUEA DEGLI ANIMALI.
ITALIAN BESTI ABIES.
407
COMPARATIVE TABLE OF MANUSCRIPTS.
BI
Rs
N
Par
Pad
Stx
Li
L,
Cor
Sn
Ham
A
Ape
1
9,
2
9
9
|
9
9
9
Ragno
3
3
3
s
S
s
S
S
3
1
Gallo
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
Lupo....
5
ft
5
ft
16
ft
ft
ft
ft
Asino salvatico
6
6
6
6
17
6
1
7
6
6
Cicala
7
7
7
18
7
9
6
7
7
Cecero
8
8
7
8
19
8
3
8
8
8
Cane
9
9
8
9
90
9
4
q
9
9
Vipera...
in
10
9
10
ft
10
ft
10
10
10
o ^t
ocimia
n
11
10
11
6
n
6
11
11
11
Corbo
i?
1?
11
1?
7
i?
7
19
19
19
36
Leone
13
13
13
8
13
8
13
13
13
Donnola (bellula)
14
14
1?
14
q
14
q
14
14
14
Calandruzzo
15
1ft
13
15
10
10
1ft
15
15
Serena
16
16
14
16
11
1ft
11
16
16
16
6
Aspis (iaspis)...
17
17
15
17
19
16
10
17
17
17
Oft
Quattro creature
18
91
16
18
13
17
18
18
18
Tigro
19
90
17
19
14
18
19
19
Liocorno (unicorno)
?,0
18
18
9,0
1ft
90
90
19
Pantera.
91
19
19
91
91
19
91
91
90
8
Grue
99
99
90
99
9ft
99
99
91
Paone
93
93
?1
93
93
93
93
9,9
Rondine
94
?,4
99
94
94
00
94
94
93
Spinoso (riccio)
95
9ft
93
95
95
91
13
9ft
95
94
Calcatrice
96
96
94
96
96
99
14
96
96
Vipera (dragone)
9,1
97
?5
97
?7
?3
15
99
97
Virgilia (peace)
98
98
^6
98
?8
94
16
30
98
99
99
97
99
99
95
17
31
Castoro
30
30
28
30
30
18
97
Picchio
31
31
9q
31
31
96
iq
98
99
Falcone
39
3?
30
33
35
98
91
33
31
Cicogna
33
33
31
39
39
?7
90
39
30
Avoltoio
34
34
S9
34
33
99
99
34
39
Aquila
35
35
33
3ft
34
93
3ft
33
9,
Cavallo
36
36
34
36
94
36
34
Colombi
37
37
35
37
36
30
95
37
35
Albero peredision
38
38
36
47
45
37
Tortora
39
39
37
•is
Ki
97
Struzzolo
40
38
37
31
96
38
96
Balena (ceto)
Volpe
41
49
40
38
39
40
38
39
32
27
98
39
40
36
37
...
Fenice
43
41
39
41
40
9q
38
Leofante
44
49
40
49
41
30
39
7
Pappagallo
45
43
11
43
42
33
31
Pernice
46
44
42
44
13
39
40
93
Biscia (serpente)
47
45
34
3
Cervo....
48
46
44
4ft
44
3ft
5
408
KENNETH McKENZIE.
Ri
Rs
N
Par
Pad
Sti
Li
L
Cor
SE
Ham
Anguilla
49
47
48
50
48
45
46
36
J>;ulaliscliio
51
49
46
Feminie (serpente)
5?,
50
47
Dragone
53
51
48
54
5?,
49
Entulla
55
53
50
*
Anitrocho (notticora)
56
51
Ibes
57
54
54
Nibbio
58
55
5?,
Fulica (fuligia)
59
56
53
lena
60
Pesci (cf. G-W, pp. 86, 126 )..
61
57
RI
RS
N
Par
Pad
Rs
Li
L,
Cor
Sn
Ham
FABLES.
Pescatore e pesce
1
1
1
1
1
10
Leone e tori
2
2
?,
|
i
11
Albero in su monte
3
8
3
3
19,
Capra e lupo
4
4
3
4
4
1
13
Villano in su carro
5
5
4
5
5
14
Cicale e formiche
fi
6
5
fi
fi
9
15
7
7
6
7
7
Ladrone e leone
8
8
7
8
8
39
Kana e bue
9
9
8
9
9
1
40
Topo e gatta
10
10
9
10
10
9
41
Volpe e cerbio
n
11
10
19
43
19
11
Cavallo grasso e uno magro...
18
19
T?
13
44
Toro, leone e becco
14
13
13
14
Leone, vacca, pecora, capra...
15
14
14
11
19
16
15
15
11
There follows the text of the sixteen fables according to
the version in the R MSS. Of this version, only the last
fable has heretofore been published (from 1ST, by Miola, op.
c&.). The eleven fables in the text of Pad are published
by G-W ; the text of the first three in Chj by F. de Romanis ;
and the text of Nos. 4 and 6 from E5 by Ghivizzani. Thus
in our list Nos. 11-14 are absolutely unpublished in any
form; and of the rest, with the exception of No. 16, only
the texts of the second group are known. The fables them-
ITALIAN BESTIARIES. 409
selves in the two groups correspond closely in matter and
in compass, but differ frequently in wording. The moraliza-
tions, however, are for the most part entirely different in the
two groups. A comparison with Ham leads one to believe
that the readings of the second group are frequently nearer
the original form of the text; but this is not always the
case, and the two groups, so far as the extant manuscripts
go, are from about the same period. It is hoped that the
publication of these fables in such a way as to make them
easily accessible will be welcome to students of medieval
literature in general and of fable-literature and animal-lore
in particular.
The text follows closely the reading of R3, except where
noted in the foot-notes with the sign ms ; if no further indi-
cation is given, when ms is different from the body of the
text, the latter follows Rj. All differences between R3 and
R! are indicated, except mere differences of spelling. Variants
from other manuscripts are added occasionally ; they are
added throughout fables 8, 10, 12 and 16 for N (fable 12,
lacking in R3, is given from the text of Rj). A copy of
portions of N I owe to Mr. A. M. "Webb. The foot-notes
concern the text itself alone, all other notes being put together
at the end. Punctuation is introduced for the sake of con-
venience, there being practically none in the manuscripts.
Abbreviated letters are indicated in italics. No attempt has
been made to constitute a critical text, except in the case of
some obvious errors ; and the capitalization and orthography
are left as in the manuscript.
410 KENNETH McKENZIE.
FABLES IN THE BESTIARY MANUSCRIPTS
ACCORDING TO THE TEXT OF COD. RICCARDIANO 1357
(MS. = R3), WITH VARIANTS OF COD. RlCCAR-
DIANO 2260 (RJ.
1.
[E,,, f. 103 b ; E!, f. 41 a]
PESCHATORE E D'VN PESIE.
Uno peschatore peschando choll'amo prese uno piccholo pescie al
qualle il pescie disse : "prieghotti che mi rigitti in mare peroch'io
sono piccholo, e quando saroe grande ritornero a tte." E '1 pescha-
tore disse : ' ' non ne uoglio fare niente, percio che bene e matto
5 colui che lascia la chosa cierta per la 'ncierta." Questo essenpro
ci mostra che noi non dobiamo lasciare quello che noi abbiamo per
quello che noi non abiamo, ne now dobbiamo lasciare la fede chat-
tollicha per lo mondo, la qualle ci conducie a uitta etterna ; ma
chi si tiene al mondo, il mondo lo conduccie alle pene etternalli,
10 dalle qualli il piatosso idio ci difenda e chonducha alia perpetualle
gloria.
2.
[Ej, f. 104 a ; E1} f. 41 b]
DEL LEONE E DE TORJ.
Uno leone andando per la foresta si uide quatro grandi tori e
feroci i quali aueuano fatto giura insieme d'andare senpre insieme
e d'atare e di difendere 1'uno 1'altro, onde ne lupo ne altra bestia
non temeano ; anchora il leone uedendoli cosi andare in legha istretti
5 e apparecchiatti insieme non ardiua d'asalirli ne di fare loro alchuno
danaggio ; ma per alchuno gruccio e misfatto si partirono e ciaschuno
andaua per se, e in poccho tenpo poi lo leone gl'uccisse a uno a uno,
Title ms Qui dicie dun peschatore che prese un pescie e poi i lascio : 1 ms
vno. E! peschando in mare. Par Pad pescava con uno suo homo (amo).
2 ms chenmi. 8 Ex in vitta. 10 Bx e ci chonducha.
Title ms Deleone. Kj Delia hone et del toro. N Dettione e de buoi e de tori.
Par De natura de Thori. 1 ms vno. Par Quatro grandi eforti tori si giu-
rono. 2 giura. ms and Ex appear to have guera ; Par aueano iurato ;
Pad ave zurato ; Ham iurauerunt. 4 ms in legha cosine op. 6 E! cruoo.
ITALIAN BESTIARIES. 411
1'uno dopo 1'altro, e mangiogli. Quest! tori ci donano asenpro che
i picchogli huomini della citta debbono istare insieme bene 1'uno
10 col altro, e atarsi insieme da grand! e da piu possenti. E questo
facciendo e tegniendo a una legha e giura, non saranno arditti i
grand! d'offendere i meno posenti infino at tan to che starano bene
insieme. Ma dacche fieno partiti e diuisi, i grand! e i piu poesenti
gli ucciderano a uno a uno sicchome feccie il leone i tori. E questo
15 ueggiamo adiuenire ogni die.
3.
[Rj, f. 104 a-104 b ; Rj, f. 41 b-42 a]
DELL' ALBKKI > E DEL UENTO.
Uno albero era in su vno monte molto grande e duro, lo qualle il
uento lo chomincio*a percuotere fortemente, e egli non si pieghaua
mai ne aumiliaua uerso il uento, sicche il uento s'adiroe uerso lui
molto forte, e chomincio anchora piu forte a pperchuoterlo ; e ttanto
5 il percosse che '1 gittoe in uno fiume a pie d'uno chanetto, le qualli
chane istauano e erano diritte ; e 1' albero si marauiglione forte, uedendo
istare le chane diritte, e disse alle chane : " Quail' e la chagione che
'1 uento non v'a diradichatte e siette diritte, e io ch'era chosi forte
m'a diuelto e diradichatto e fatto chadere?" Rispuosono le chane :
10 " se lla superbia monta infino al cielo e lla sua testa passa infino a
nuuoli, alia fine cadere le chonuiene, e tornare a niente. E cosi adi-
uiene a tte, che non ti humiliasti ne dichinasti ne pieghasti per lui, e
percio ti fecie cadere d' altezza in basezza ; ma noi facciamo come fa la
foglia, che non si orghoglia al uento che lla mena, cosi la nostra pena
15 chonuielasi per seno uallichare e pero in ongni parte che '1 uento uiene
si cci pieghiamo ; non trae si poccho uento che noi non ci dichiniamo,
e pero non si crucciera mai sopra noi." Questo albero si ne dona
amaestramento di conosciere questo mondo e com' egli uae cosi superbio,
seguire e arendere e pieghare chome bisognia, e none contastare chon
8 « ; R! ne. 9 Rj vomini e i popolacj deUa cittade. 11 Rj lega e gura.
12 ms imempossenti. 14 ms Rt ileone, 15 ms ongnindi.
Title Rj Dvno albore chera in sv vno monte. 1 ms vno ; Rj Uno More ;
ms in suo. 2 Rt Icdbero. 3 erasure in ms. Rj verso luj siche. 4 e ch. —
forte omitted in ms. 5 Par in uno fiume lo quale era a piede del ditto monte.
6 R! marauiglio. 7 le chane omitted in Rj. 9 Par la comma rispuose.
14 R! che nosl argoglia che nosi argoglia. 15 ms reading doubtful ; R!
chouielaci perseno. 17 Rj sopra anoj / Questo albore. Par sopra me. Qsto
e ditto in figura a nostra castigatione.
412 KENNETH McKENZIE.
20 suo magiore, come uolle fare il diauollo chon gieso christo, e percio
f u gitato di cielo in terra per la sua superbia chon tutti i suoi seghuaci,
che imantanente che ll'angiolo satanasso fue creatto, ch'era chiamatto
lucibello, si monto in orghoglio e chadde di cielo ; onde percio il
chominciamento di tutti i pecchatti si e orghoglio, e percio e piu da
25 temere il uento della superbia inn alto che in basso. Onde percio disse
idio nel uangiello : ' ' Onne qui se esaltat umiliabitur e qui se umiliat
esaltabitur."
[E,, f. 104 b; E!, f. 42a]
DELLA CHAPRA E DEL LUPO.
La capra si pasciea in su un alto monte e '1 lupo era a ppie e
non ui potea montare ; e non potendola auere per sua forza per
difalta del luogho, si ssi penso d'auerla per ingiegnio. E cominciolla
a chiamare, diciendo : "madonna chapra, forte mi pesa di uoi, che
5 uoi auette chosi mala pastura. E percio se disideratte salluteuolle
pasto, disciendette dal monte e uenitte giu al piano, che cci a
troppo piu sauorosa erba per uoi." E lla chapra rispuosse :
"Messer lupo, sapiatte ch'enpi ueleni naschono sotto dolci meli ;
le tue parolle sono piene di mele, ma ttanto sono piene di toscho
10 e d'amaro fielo, e percio io non ti credo, percio che cio che ttu
di, si tti parti dal uero, e falo per uccidermi, s'io fossi si matta
ch'io credessi alle tue parolle lusingheuolli e inghaneuolli ; ma
sappiatte, messer lupo, ch'al mondo non e cosi gran malle come di
collui che facciendo il malle uuole mostrare di far bene ; ma notta
15 che lla sauia criatura non uuole inghanare e non puo essere ingha-
natta." disse il lupo: "molto sauia ti fai, madonna, ma sappi
che ttanto gratta capra che mal giacie." disse la capra: "messere
lupo traditore, sappi che furto fa ladrone andare dopo il bastone.
E'l leone dicie in sua schuola ladro che 'nbolla sia appendutto per
20 ms gieso Xsto ; Bx giesu Xpo. cf. Par and Chx . . . secoudo che fece ih'u
xpo dd diaule lo quale non lo uolse obedire ma tene auisi si forte como dio e
per la sua superbia fue gittato di cielo in terra e in tenebre e in fuoco coli suoi
rami ... 22 Bj era. 24 ms e pcio piu. 26 Bt Omine.
Title lacking in ms ; as above in N, also Rj delupo ; Par Duna capra ;
B6 della capra che pascieua nel monte. 1 ms pascie ; Bx in su vno monte elupo.
2 ms potendo. 7 ms sauorasa ; Bt sauorossa. 8 ms chenpiu veleni followed
by blank space equal to six lines, but nothing is lost ; Bj lupo che enpj velenj
naschondono sotto. 13 ms noe. 15 B^ neno. 16 ms and
17 Bj messer lo lupo. 19 ms leone in sua ischuoUa.
ITALIAN BESTIARIES. 413
20 la gholla, che al mondo piu non facci noia." Lo lupo significha
1'uomo che uuole inghanare gli altri buoni huomini in parolle e
i.i malli fatti ; e quando non puo prendere per uentura, si si
ingiegnia di prenderlo con inghaneuolli parole. E percio tu sia
sauio e non ti muouere del luogho sichuro per andare al dubio. e
25 ancora significha e dimostra che gli huomini che ssono nella uia
di dio sono in monte sichuro, e percio alle maluagie tentazioni e
inghani del dimonio non dee credere per alchuno uano desiderio
del mondo ; e ss'elli se ne partono, uano chol diauolo all' etternali
pene, ma sse lasciano le uanita del mondo, si uanno nella eternalle
30 gloria di dio.
5.
[Rs, f. 104 b-105 a ; Ru f. 42 b]
DEL UILLANO E DE BUOI.
Uno uillano menaua vno suo charo choi buoi, e ffue giunto a
uno mal passo di fangho e d'acqwa, sicche i buoi none poteuano
trare ; e staua in suso il charo doloroso e non pugnieua i buoi
e non si brighaua d'atargli, ne sse ne lloro, ma preghaua idio che
5 llo atasse. Ed egli udie una bocie da cielo diciente : "sappi che
idio e '1 lauorare da noi tutte le chose; dalle idio mettendo la
grazia sua nel lauorio, che non uerrebe a cchi non lauorassi e
s'afatichassi ; e percio lieuati suso e aiuta i buoi tuoi e pungili, e
sse ttu t'aiuterai, idio t'aiutera." Questo e detto perche niuno
10 huomo creda che idio 1'aiuti s'egli non si affatichassi e aserci-
tasisi in se medesimo e lauori per fugire mendicitate ; e di questo
n'amoniscie san paolo le gienti che llauorino, e dicie chosi : "I' o
intesso di cierti che cholle loro mani non lauorano ne uogliono
lauorare, i quali ainoniamo e preghiamo dalla parte d'idio che
15 llauorino accio che abino onde possano uiuere." E sse chosi farae
idio esaudisie i suoi preghi.
21 ms inghanare inghanare. 22 Rt nolopuo. 24 Bj al dubitosso. 27 R!
diauolo. 29 R! ma se permangono nel monte cioe nele luogora sante di dio si
uano cho luj neUa eternale groria.
Title R! Dvno vilano chera isv vno charo ; N = ms. 1 ms had originally
aro, ch added later ; Rj arro ; Par carrocolo ; N charro con uno paio di buoi ;
Pad caro. 2 ms poteua ; Rt poteano ; N potevano. 3 Rt pignea. 6 N
cose. Ch' iddio le, da mettendo. 7 R! lauorasse e sisi afatichasse. 9 R
settu no t aiuteray Idio non tj aiuiera ne vdiara le tue preghiere ( = N).
10 ^siafaticha se medesimo e lauorj per fugire (=N). 11 ms medichatare.
R! and N omit e di questo. 13 ms intesso checcia di gienti che (N = R^.
15 N /aranno. 16 N loro.
414 KENNETH McKENZIE.
6.
[R,, f. 105 a; Rj, f. 42b-43a]
DELLE CICHALLE E DELLE FOBMICHE.
Le cichalle essendo in grande neciessitade e non auendo niuna
cosa del mondo da mangiare, e'l fredo era grande pcrcio ch'era nel
chuore del uerno, si ssi mossero e andorono alle formiche e domando-
rono del grano o d'altra biada percio ch'elle moriuano di fame. E lie
5 formiche dissero : "noi nella istatte auemo lauoratto e affatichatoci
e ssenpre al tenpo ci brighiamo di lauorare per non essere mendiche,
cioe in troppa pouerta, la qualle molto biasimiamo e similmente e
biasimatta da saui. E uoi, sorelle cichalle, che auette uoi fatto nella
istatte prosima passatta, che essercizio e stato il uostro?" E lie
10 cichalle dissero che tutta la statte aueuano cantatto e non aueuano
uolutto lauorare e niente guadagniatto ; e lie formicche rispuossero :
"chi non lauora non manucha ; saltate, dache uoi auette chantatto e
non auette uolutto lauorare, ragione che uoi periate di fame." La
cichalla significha quegli vomini e femine che sono ofciosi e no
15 uogliono lauorare perche posano viuere e quando non anno da uiuere,
uogliono lauorare e non possono, perche non e tenpo. E percio
dicie salamone : "o pigier prospice formicha ; ella ti mostrera
quello che ttu debi fare." guarda il chorpo della formiccha e in
chuore sappiamo formicche che ss'aparecchiano la statte di quello
20 che fa loro di bisognio per lo uerno ; e tu cristiano no cogitti e non
pensi il giudicio uenturo. elle pensano che ss' elle non lauorasono
la state, perirebono il uerno di fame, e noi non chogitiamo e non
pensiamo che sse noi non facciamo le buone opere in questo mondo,
moremo nell' altro e istaremo sempre nell' atternali pene dell' inferno.
25 E percio disse salamone : " formiche populus prudens qui preparat
in messe cibum sibi," id est in messe grazie cibum glorie eterne.
E percio ciaschuno quando e tenpo dee lauorare, lo qualle tenpo e
Title as in ms ; also Rj and N, except delude ; R5 della cichala e della
formica ; Par Della natura dela Cichala. 1 Par La Cichala uenne
ala formica di uerno e disselli dami del tuo grano che moio difame ; Pad La
zigatta vene dala formiga dinverno, ecc. 7 Rt la quale e molto biasimatta dai
saui. 10 ms enonne ; Rj chantatto e nientte guadagnatto. 12 Rj manuchi ;
ms enonne. 13 ms lauorare perche possiatte uiuere, omitting ragione . . .
lauorare. 17 ms prospicier. 19 Rj sapra ; R! state e perro fano
quello che fa loro bisogno. 20 ms cangitti ; Rt chogittj. 22 ms chonosci-
amo. 24 Rj delaltro ; Rj nele eternalj. 25 ms formicha populis prudens
qai preparattinmesse cibu ghlrore eterne ; RI formiche populus prudes q preparate
(?) in mese cibum sibi edest Imese grade cibum grolie eterne. 27 R! quando a
. . . tenpo ifino.
ITALIAN BESTIARIES. 415
infino che 11' uonio e in questa uitta, che dee tanto lauorare in buone
opere che per inanzi uiua senpre in grolia di dio ; che ciaschuno sia
30 beae cierto che chi in questo mondo no lauorera infino ch'a il tenpo,
nell' altro no potra lauorare, senone auere bene o male sechondo che
in questo mondo aura meritato. E inpercio piu ualle una ora di tenpo
che ttuttto il mondo, e questo inpercio che 11' uomo puo ghuadagniare
il regnio del cielo. E san bernardo disse : "nil preciosius tenpore serf
35 heu hodie nil uilius reputatur," cioe a dire che niuna cosa e, che
sia piu preziosa in questo mondo che tenpo, ma guai a coloro che
oggi neuna cosa riputano cosi uille. e san bernardo disse : " omne
tenpus tibi inpensum requiretur a te quare sete spensus." E sala-
mone nel clesiasticho dicie : "venit finis finis venit venit tepores
40 esser est dies ocisionis nunc de propinquo efunda ira mea." E altrove
disc salamone : "unbre transitus est tenpus." E inpercio, carissimi,
osseruatte il tenpo uostro e parti teui dal male, si che '1 tenpo uostro
rendiatte casto e puro a messere domenedio ; e now dee essere niuno
cristiano che non debba gierminare in buone opere, in limosine, in
45 orationi, in digiuni ; che questo non e tenpo da stare ozioso, anzi e
tenpo di lauorare e d'aquistare uitta etterna, alle qualle ne chonducha
colui ch' e ssanza tenpo, il qualle uiue e regnia in seculla sechulorum
amen.
7.
[R,, f. 105 a-b ; B,, f. 43 a]
DEL LUPO E DEL CIERBIO.
Uno lupo beueua in uno fiume e uide disotto da sse uno cierbio
bere, si gli disse con grande ira : " Io o grande uolonta d'uciderti e
di bere lo tuo sangue, percio che m'ai intorbidatta 1'acqua sicch'io
non posso bere." E llo cierbio rispuosse e disse: ' ' coteste sono le
5 chagioni che ttu ladro aponesti al agniello, crudelle traditore ;
perche truoui false cagioni ? tu bei disopra e io disotto ; or torna
Facqwa insuso? " e '1 lupo istaua chetto e chonosciea bene che chosi
34 B! precisius. 35 ms reparat. 36 Bt che ogni nevna chossa. 38 ms
inpensus requeret ate quirisite (?) ; Bj inpensu requirent (?) atte quare sete
38-41 E salamone . . . est tenpus omitted in ms. 39 Bead : venit tempus,
prope est dies . . . efundam iram meam. 42 Bj partitevi dal reale (?) overo
dal male. 43 Bj puro chomessere. 46 ms quale conducono.
Title ms Delupo. 1 B! Lo. 2 B, e sigli; ms io grande. 3 ms
chenmai; B! intorbidato. 4 Bt &lcierbio disse. 5 Bi credule. 7
B! laqua dinsotto (?) almonte Par como puote essere che laqua torni contra lo
monte (=Pad) ; ms chonoscie.
416 KENNETH McKENZIE.
era, ma egli lo uoleua uccidere, e parlogi edisse : "cierbio frodolente,
del tuo maldire ti penti, ch'io ti rodero cho denti e pagherotti
10 di tua mattia, sicche non ardirai di dire tal folia." E '1 cierbio
rispuose e disse : " lupo, il mio dire notta, ch'egli e piu bella cosa
rifrenare la mattia con dolci motti e pianti, che uenire alle mani ;
non mi piacie, lupo, tuo grido ; pure con seno mi guido, ma se '1 seno
non mi ualle, mettero malle contro a mmalle, e farotti un male riguardo
15 se sarai piu chodardo." Allora gli corsse adosso il cierbio ardita-
mente sopra, per pugnierlo ; e lupo ebbe paura e fuggi incontanente.
E cosi dee fare ciaschuno quando uede il nimiccho suo uenire
contra lui con ardito cuore, anzi che uegnia a llui ; in altro modo
ispiritualmente dobbiamo intendere che quando noi siamo in buone
20 opere e ueggiamo uenire il diauolo sopra noi, perche non ci faccia
chadere in alchuno pecchatto, tosto dobbiamo correre contro a llui
con buone opere e coll'arme della penitenzia, del digiuno, e della
oratione, e delle limosine. E quando il diauollo uedra questo,
temera e f uggira da nnoi.
[K3, f. 105 b-106 b ; Eu f. 43 b-45 a]
DEL IADRONE E DEL LEOJTE.
Uno ladrone crudelissimo istaua apiattato in uno chanmino,
e tutti quegli ch'egli poteua prendere ispogliaua e rubaua e
metteuagli in prigione. E un leone per auentura passando indi
trouoe questo ladrone giaciere e incontanente il prese e
5 disse: "se ttu uogli uiuere, dinmi la chagione perche ttu se qui
appiattato e naschoso." e llo ladrone disse : " io non ti so dire se
now il uero ; incolpatto sono da un mio signiore, e temo che non
mi uccida, ond' io aspettaua qui alchuna buona persona che mi
riduciesse in sua buona uoluntade." disse il leone : " qui uerum
11 ms cheglie betta. 12 ms mattina Rj matia. 15 ms condardo. 16 R!
punirlo. 22 Et ddle oraqwnj. 24 In Et there follow six lines more
in Latin, beginning : Et Ideo didt Itte pmdens dauid e penitens e chocitabo
pro pechatto meo, etc.
Title ms Deladrone e dellione ; R! Ddlo ladrone eddeone. 1 ms innuno ;
R! in uno chamino ; N auncerto passo. 2 N pigliare sigli spoglia.ua. 3 Bj
Eleone ; N Et perauentura passando uno Hone undi ; ms il di ; Rj Indi ; Pad
una volta pasava lo lion de la. 4 N agiacere et incontanente Ulione H prese.
5 R! and N dimi. 6 Rt aschoso ; Rj Io no posso dire senone il uero ; N
Io non ti saprei dire senone il uero ; Pad io non te Poso dire se non la verita.
8 N gualche buona ; ms chenmi. 9 N riducessi conesso lui a buona volunta ;
R! querut dicit.
ITALIAN BESTIARIES. 417
10 dicit non labor at ; tu ai tan to penatto a rispondere ch' i'o
materia di credere che ttu ti parti dal uero, e percio guarda
quello che ttu die ; dinmi tosto quanto tenpo se ttune istatto
quie ? " e '1 ladrone dicie : "dieci die." disse '1 leone : " di tal uero
che ssia credeuolle, che veritta non credeuole tiene luogo di
15 mentire ; e mentir, dei sapere, si ee contra propiamente dire, le
uestimenta tue sono sozze e brutte, onde le tue malizie sono
or cholte." disse il ladrone : "signiore mio lione, se dio mi guardi
di tua corte, le mie uesta sono sozze per le bestie ch' i'o
morte ; adio messere, ch' io me ne uo, la ueritta detta te 11' o."
20 disse il leone: "non ti partire, se non ai uoglia di morire, dimmi
il uero sanza falire." disse il ladro : " gianmai non uoglio piu uiuere
s'io ui mento, bel messere." infra queste parolle colloro
che auea in sua torre in prigione gridarono forte diciendo :
"per dio merzede, nobile leone, non credette a chotesto ladrone."
25 e llo leone udia, ma non uedea chi erano colloro che ccio
dicieano. Alora disse il leone : " Io vegio e sento bene che tue
m'ai mentitto." disse Io ladro : "la boccha che mente, vcide 1'anima ;
percio a te ne ad altrui no voglio mentire, signore, percio che
piue e da lodare vno ladrone che vno chontinouo mentitore." e
30 quegli ch' erano in prigione gridano : " merce, nobile signore,
liberateci d'esta prigione, e no lasiate fugire Io ladro, ma porti
pena di suo pechatto." alora Io lione disse al ladro: "perche
m'ai tu tante fiatte mentito?" disse il ladrone: "s'io mento
1'anima ne portera la pena in inferno." disse il leone: "Io credo
35 che'l corpo sentira prima la pena che 11' anima tua." Allora si
fecie menare ou' erano i prigioni, e diliberogli e fecie loro rendere
a doppio cio che aueuano perdutto ; e quando ebbero i presi, conta-
10 N laborat Owe chi dice il uero non tfafaticha . . . tumi dai materia.
12 N settu state qui ; Rx setu dimorato que ; Pad quanti di se che tu sta quaf
Dise Io latrone: Diese di. Lo leone ancora disc: Cognosce, tu menti. Dise
Io latrone : Tre ani se. 14 N che ti sia creduto ; Rj credebUe che verita
non credevole ; ms nonne credeuole tie lugho. 15 R^ sie chontra la propi-
amente dire. 16 R! and N brute e vetuste. 17 N ora cholte. 19 Rj
ch' i me ne uo la ueritta detto to ; N dettatelo. 20 ms Heone. 23 ms caueua ;
N che egli teneua in prigione nella torre comindarono forte agridare. 24 N
credere. 25 N uedeua ancora coloro. 26-32 ms omits Alora disse . . .
suo pechatto ; text from R! and N (similar passage in Pad). 26 Rx ileone ;
N vegho esento che. 27 R! ladro laccha che. 28 N ne atte ne ad altri
voglio. 29 N chattiuo. 30 N gridauano liberaci di questa. 31 N
lasciare. 32 ms and N Allora disse il leone aladrone (N attadro ; Rj ala-
dro). 33 N se io .0. mentito lanima mia. 34 ms and Rj inninferno.
37 R! ebono ipresi chotanto aleone ; N ebbono informato il leone detta vita e modi.
418 KENNETH McKENZIE.
rono al leone la uitta del ladrone, si llo spezzoe il leone tutto per
pezi. E poi parti 1'auere del ladrone a chomune coi prigioni,
40 e partissi da lloro, grande grazia ricieuendo del liberamento. Que-
sto ladrone significha gli huomini che fanno malle, che chagiono
molte uolte in grande pericholo. E percio si dee 1'uomo ben
guardare di non fare quello altrui, che non cagia in morte dell'
anima e del chorpo. E di crudeli huomini leggiamo noi che ssono
45 morti di crudeli tormenti, percio che giusta chosa e che gli arte-
fici muoiano della morte dell' arte loro. Kaconta ouidio che uno,
il qualle ebbe nome perillo, fabrichoe un grande toro di metallo,
credendo piaciere a uno tirano chiamatto falaride, il quale era
un crudele huomo e andaua guastando una giente che ssi chiamauano
50 agrigientini e tormentauagli di nuoui trouatti. Questo perilo fabri-
choe uno toro di metallo, e dallatto gli fecie uno usciuolo onde ui
si potessono mettere i danatti a morte, accioche per lo fuoccho messo
disotto morisoro e ardessero per la pena, e che quando fossero rin-
chiusi dentro e gridassero per la pena che sentissero, non, parendo
55 pena d'uomo ma di bestia, per questo si mouessi meno a piatade
il detto tirano ; sicche quando ebbe conpiuto 1' opera e presentatolla
al tiranno fallaride sicchome dono achoncio a crudelta, il tirano
lodoe 1' opera e fecielo paghare del maesterio ; ma uegniendogli
ischifo di collui che n'era istatto trouatore, si gli disse : "ua
60 piano e non ti partire, percio che in te primieramente ricieuerai
e prouerai quello che a me crudele tu piu crudelle di me ai
presentato." laonde punie il detto arteficie chol suo propio trouatto.
Nonn e leggie niuna piu diritta che morire li artefici della morte
della loro arte, cioe disse ouidio, nel re dee auere giustizia,
65 la qualle e lla piu nobille e lla piu forte uirtu che sia,
percio ch' ella si e perfetta uirtude, e percio dee essere giusto
e diritto, e conpiere i comandamenti della leggie e sseguitare
tutti i beni, e lasciare ongni malle, e auere in se tutte le uirtudi ;
e ssecondamente ch'egli amano la loro propia persona e utilitade,
38-9 Ej in pecci (= N) ; N Epoi divise la roba che era nella ten-re acomune.
40 N dalloro della liberatione. 42 N grandi pericoli et percio si debbe ben.
44 N Elleggiamo che di crudeli. 45 ms and N .e. 48 N FaUidare.
49 N ghuastando e perseghuitando. 50 ms agrenlini ; Ex agrigientini ; N
Argentini ; Kj di torment) / Questo tarillo ; ms prtto ; N Perillo fabrico il detto
toro del. 51 Ex vsuolo ; N donde si potesse. 53 N mormeno crudelmente
eche qn fussino. 54 N dentro ; ms and Rt iventro. 55 ms appiatade.
56 E! il detto re falaride (N omits) ; E! presentata a re falaride ; N presenta-
tala al Re Falladire. 58 ms maestero ; N magisterio. 61 ms cheanme.
62 N Epuni. 64 N Eccio. 66 N che sia Et percio dixe che giusto e diritto
de essere. 69 N Esecondo.
ITALIAN BESTIARIES. 419
70 siano in loro dirittura e aguaglianza; or che sono i reami sanza
giustizia se non ladronciegli, e di cio diremo uno esenpro.
Kaconta santo aghostino nel libro della citta di dio, che uno ch'a-
ueua nome dionides, chon una sua ghalea teneua in brigha tutto
il mare, pigliando gli huomini e rubandogli. Onde passato molto
75 tenporale con questa noia, fu naratto al re allexandro. udendo
cio allexandro fecie armare parechi ghalee, e chomando che
dionides fosse menatto preso dinanzi da llui ; e fatto cio,
gli fu presentato, et Alexandro gli dixe : "perche tien tu in brigha
tutto il mare ?" rispose dionides : " e ttu perche tieni in brigha tutto
80 il mondo? ma perch' io fo questo chon una ghalea sono chiamato
ladrone, e perche tu il fai chon grand! nauili se chiamato
inperadore ; pero quanto alia causa, di se non a diferenza, se no
che piggiore e cholui che ppiu uilmente la giustizia abandona
che cholui ch' e palese, in per cio la chonbatte ; le leggi ch'io
85 fugho, tune le perseguitti, e chiunque cossa io onoro e ffoe
riuerenza, tu dispregi. la 'niquitta della mia fortuna e lla
istretteza della mia casa mi fano ladrone ; te la superbia
intolerabile e lla avarizia che non si puo enpiere, ladro rendono.
Ma se lla fortuna mi diuenisse mansuetta, io sarei migliore
90 di tte, e ttu per chontrario, quanto piu auenturoso e ffortunato,
sarai piu maluagio." Marauigliatossi alexandro della costanza
di dionides che meriteuolmente il riprendeua, disse : " Io prouero se
ttu sarai migliore di me, e lla fortuna tua muteroe, accioche da
ora inanzi piu non sieno aposti i tuoi falli a miei chostumi,
95 e non sia iuputatto alia auentura la malizia tua, ma ai meritti."
e feciello iscriuere alia militia, accioche potessi indi, saluando
le leggi, militare. E chosi interuene che quelo ch'era chorsalle
e piratto di mare, diuento per Io modo sopradetto gran prencipe
70 N siabbino illoro la dirittura et, 71 R, ladroneci. 72 ms nelibro ;
N duno. 74 N Et essendo narrata questa nouella enoia al He Alexandro
fece armare molte ghalee. 77 N preso epresentato allui. 78-80 ms fatto
do edessendo menatto preso dinanzi dallui e fatto cio nel chospetto dalexandro
Allexandro il domando perchetta il mare in odio e dionides per libera chontu-
macie per la quatte tuai in odio il mondo tutto ma perchio fo questo (text
from N) . 81 N Ettu chelfai chon grandissima quantita di navi. 82 ms
quando. 83 N cholui che inbola che cholui che perforca toglie palesemente e
piu malvagio e cholui che piu vilmente. 84 ms palesse in cio ; N et percio.
85 N et quelle cose che io. 86 N La disgratia. 88 N tifanno ladro Et
seUa fortuna mi fusse mansueta io diuenterei. 90 N sarai, piu maluagio e
piggiore sarai. 92 N che cholla verita della ragione il (N omits Io prouero
. . . me, and ma ai meritti). 94 ms atuoi. 98 ms and Rt diuenutto ; ms
precipe.
420 KENNETH McKENZIE.
e amattore di giustizia. appare per questo esenpro che '1 re
100 dee osseruare la giustizia e possederla, e dee essere in lui
pazienzia in sostenere le giuste uillanie e beniuoglienza in ben
fare a colloro che giustamente i ripigliano ; e debbon pazientemente
sostenere e portare ben coretione de saui loro, e intendere
uollentieri essi corettori, sicchome nara ualerio massimo d'alexandro,
105 che uno chaualiere nobile e famosso molto, uogliendollo coregiere
e massimamente di troppo disiderare degli honori, si '1 coresse e
riprese in questo modo : " Se gli idei auessero apparecchiatto il
corpo tuo, il qualle e piccholo, a desiderio del anima tua, in tutto
il mondo non potresti capere ; e perche dicolti che colla mano
110 destra toccheresti 1'oriente e colla sinistra toccheresti il ponente ;
dunque, conciosiachosa che '1 corpo tuo non risponda all'animo, o ttu
sse domenidio, o ttu se huomo, o ttu sse niente. Se ttu sse domenidio,
cierto tu doueresti seguitare domenidio, cioe di dare beneficcii
altrui e non di rubare illoro ; ma se ttu se huomo, chonsideratti
115 essere mortale, cioe che uerai meno ; e sse se nulla di questo chotanto
ti ricorda che ttu non dimentichi te medesimo, e pensa che niuna
cosa e ssi ferma che perichollo no lie possa uenire da men forte.
E '1 leone ch'e re delle bestie diuenta talora pasto di menome
bestie, e questo t'o detto percio ch'io disidero la tua uitta gloriosa,
120 la qualle non posso uedere se ttu colla giustizia e colle buone
opere non sarai amatto dal popollo ; disidero dunque te altrimenti
fatto nel regimento, cioe che ttu signioreggi prima te medesimo, il
qualle signioreggi gli altri non co ragione ma colla forza, inperoch'e-
gli e per cierto ingiusta cosa che ttu vogli chomandare ali altri,
125 chonciosiachossa che tu no poi chomandare a te medesimo ; e una
cosa ti sia a mente, che gli sforcati imperi non possono durare." e chi
a orecchi da udire, oda.
99 ms esenpro chetta giustizia dee essere in lui. 102 ms iripiglicdlo ;
Bx iripigliano ; N gli riprendono. 103 N soportare la chorretione. 105
ms chaualiere ilqualle ; N chaualiere molto. 106 N sigli scrisse in qsto
modo 0 Alexandro se nostri dii tauessino fatto apparecchiare. 112-3 N iddio
(three times for domenidio); ms omits cierto . . . domenidio (T^ and N).
113 E! benefici. 114 N agli uomini e non togli loro ne rubargli ; N pensa
che tusse. 115 E! desere. 117 N che non possa venire debole Illione.
118 ms pastore ; Ej pasto di menimj vcielj ; N cibo di piccholi uccelli. 119 E1
groliosa. 124 ms cosa chettu non possi comandare. (omitting the rest ; text
from Ej and N.) 124 N altrui enon possa comandare. 126 E! e stiati
a mente vna chossafatta chossa che gli isforcati inperj.
ITALIAN BESTIARIES. 421
9.
[E,, f. 106 b-107 a ; B,, f. 45 a-45 b]
I >i:i,l. A K A \ A E DEL BUB.
Qvando la rana uide pasciere il bue nel pratto, si disideraua
d'essere cosi grande come il bue, e comincioe a ghonfiare e disse ai
suoi figliuoli : "guardatte s'io sono cosi grande come il bue ; " e essi
rispuosono che no. E lla rana piu comincia a ghonfiare e a enfiare,
5 e da chapo gli domanda s'ella era chosi grossa chome il bue ; ris-
puossero che no, ne apresso. Allora la rana chomincio a enfiare di si
gran forza che creppo e chadde morta a dolore. Questa rana significha
1'uomo ch'a picchollo podere, che sse uuole gharreggiare e asomigli-
are a ccholui che 11' a grande, potrebbe chadere in pouerta, e chosi si
10 morebbe di dolore chome fecie la rana, in altro modo si puo intendere
che niuno huomo si dee fare maggiore ch'eli sia e non si dee groli-
fichare in niuna groria, che chi si grolificha, si si abassa, e chi ssi
pregia, elli si dispregia, e chi ssi aumilia, si ssi esalta. huomo
superbo non sarae grazioso a dio ne al mondo, pero che lla superbia
15 e assomigliata al uento, percio che '1 uento ae a flare fare chose :
ispegniere la lucie, e ssecchare la rugiada, e soffiare la poluere ; chosi
la superbia ispegnie la lucie della sapienza, e diseccha la rugiada della
grazia, e soffia la poluere della uanitta mondana.
10.
[Es, f. 107 a ; Ej, f. 45 b]
DEL TOPO E DELIA GHATTA.
Uno topo disciese giu per la chatena per torre la carne della
ueggia, e lla ghatta chorse a llui subitamente a presselo e disse :
"messer lo topo, s'io non ti auessi sochorso, tu chadeui nel fuoccho
e saresti tutto arso." disse il topo: "se lie parolle uostre procie-
5 dessero da radicie d'essere vmano e pietosso, il chuore mio sarebbe
fuori di dubio. E non per quanto se ttu non m'uccidi, ben credero
che ttu mi dessi socchorso. E perro fa che ll'opere s'acchordino
3 Pad al mo fiolo : guarda . . . e loro diseno. 5 E! domando. 8 KI
vogliendosi. 10 ms ranna. 11 ms dee glorifichare sisi abassa (omitting
seven words). 12 Ej Iniuna. 13 Ej asanta.
Title N Della Ghatta e del Topo. 1 ms sorcho ; E1 and N topo ; N scen-
dendo. 2 N subito chorse allui e disse poi chellebe preso. 3 ms messere lo
sorcho. 4 ms sorcho. 5 ms vmane epietosse ; N radice dettumanila e desser
piatosa il quor. 6 ms per quanta per quanto ; N Et pet tanto se uoi non mi
uccidete. 7 N mabbiate data.
15
422 KENNETH McKENZIE.
cholle parolle, e lasciami andare libero." E lla ghatta disse : "che
utilita n'are' io? se io ti lasciassi e un altro di mia giente ti pigli-
10 assi, io non ti potrei poi attare." Rispuosse il topo : "a signiore
non mancha chagione ; io penso che ttu non ai altro in chuore che di
darmi morte." E lla ghatta disse: "Io che tti liberal da cchadere
nel fuoccho, si tti libero della tua chogittazione." e inchontanente
gli strinse il chapo e mangiolosi. Questo significcha quegli huo-
15 mini che ueghono altrui in malle chon danno o pericchollo di per-
sona o d'auere, non anno dolore ne chonpassione, ma allegrezza ; e
anchor fanno peggio, che talor gli chonfondano. E pero disse ualerio
che lla dolcieza d'essere umano e pietosso trapassa eziandio i fieri e
i crudelli ingiegni de barbari e amolliscie i crudelli occhi de nimici.
20 E notta che 1'uomo pietosso non fae malla fine. E in altro modo
alia ghatta s'asomiglia i crudelli e gli enpi al diauollo d' inferno,
che ssi allegra quando uede alchuno cadere in pecchatto mortale
e nol lascia pentere e chonfondello quanto puo e chonduciello a
ssenpiterna morte d' inferno.
11.
[Rs, f. 107 b ; R!, f. 46 a]
BELLA UOLPE ET DEL CIERBIO.
Una uolpe quando uide here un cierbio disse per beffe : "messere
Io cierbio ualente, le tua corna ti rendono molto piu bello e pia-
ciente, ma lla chortezza della choda ti fa perdere tua loda. Ma
sse ttu mi uuogli dare delle tue chorna, io ti daro della mia choda."
5 e '1 cierbio disse : " io non uoglio fare dell' altrui farina maccheroni ;
la tua choda non e a me chara, piu amo la mia laida che lla tua
bella, cosi 1'amo chome idio la mi fe. delle mie chorna non uoglio
dare a tte, ch' i' o da saui questo uditto : chi scherniscie e schernito ;
chossi sarete uoi, madonna." E inchontanente la si leuo in sule
10 chorna e disse: "non fare beffe di tuo migliore ; ammenda prima
i detti tuoi, fella." per gran uirtu la perchosse in terra, diciendo :
9 N narei. 10 N do non ; ms sorcho. 11 Rt no /alia ; N non gli
mancha. 13 ms chongittazione ; Rj chogitacione ; N chogitatione Esigli strinse.
14 N mangioselo. 15 Rt vengono ; N lallrui male. 16 N nonanno chon-
passione. 17 N alchwna volta ; N dice Valeriamaximo. 18 N etiamdio
efuriosi. 21 R! and N saswnigliano. 22 N alchuno chessi allegra de
pecchati mortali. 23 ms nolascia. 24 1^ and N sepiternale.
Title N gholpe. 1 E,x disegli. 3 Rj fano. 6 ms nonne amme ; ms
piu anme. 8 Rx ate tienti la tua choda ate chio. 11 R! i difetti.
ITALIAN BESTIARIES. 423
"falsa traditore, la schernitricie rimane ischernita." Questo e scritto
per nostro ghastighamento, che niuno non faccia beffe di suo maggi-
ore, ne di piu forte di llui. E in altro modo si puote intendere che
15 nullo non dee condannare, acio che non sia condanatto.
12.
[Bj, f. 46 a ; N, f. 88 b-89 a]
DELA CHORNACHIA ET AI/TRI VCIELLJ.
Legiesi nelle fauole che gli vcieli feciono vn choncilio, al qvale
furono tutti cittati a vno a vno, al quale choncilio ciaschuno vene
il meglio che pote aparechiato e paratto. onde la chornachia,
vegiendosi chosi nera, prochacio tanto ch' el' ebe pene di molti
5 vcieli, le piu vare e le piu belle, e poi si trase de le pene sue, e
di quelle vaire e belle si vestie e adornoe quanto sepe il meglio,
e andoe al choncilio e araunamento dou'era stata richiesta. 1'uci-
eli ravnatto in '1 choncilio no la richonosieano, ma rafigurandola
e richonosiendola ilei, alquanti vciclli dele loro penne sie la pela-
10 rono tutta, onde lla misera rimase molto schernitta. E chosi
adiuiene a chi del altrui farina fa macheroni, cioe a cholui che
della altrui laude si veste ; e percio pregoti, lettore, che tue no
ti vesta delle altrui lode, acio che '1 dispogliatto vcielo no sia
ischernitto dala chonpagnia degli vcieli j. no cierchare mai di
15 dipignere il chapo sanca la choda, pero che sanca finire il chomin-
ciare nuocie ; e pero onora chatuno ne grady della sua bontade, sia
ornatto di chostumi, sincero di mente, tenperato de fatti, e senpre
per bocie humano, avegna che imenbri ne quali lo giegno piu vale
che lla bontade.
12 B! traditta ; ms lascharnita. 13 Bj gastigazwne.
Title N Come la chornacchia si uesti dellaltrui penne. 1 N fauole di Isopo.
2 N fwrono richiesti tutti gli uccetti come cittadini cheglierano Alquale choncilio
ciascheduno ando meglio parato en punto che egli pote. Onde. 5 N varie
ette piu belle che etta pote avere. 6 N vaghe. 7 N ando done si raghunava
il choncilio ladoue etta era stata richiesta Et essendo raghunato il choncilio gli
aliri vcetti. 10 N forte schernita Elsimile. 12 N atte none interuengha
datribuire atte laltrui virtudi, accio che come lo spogliato vccetto. 15 N comin-
riato. 17 B! onoratto ; N hornato ; Bt sichero ; N sincero. 18 B! bocie
avegna che imenbri (?) ; N boce humano Et auengha che nemembri (?) piu vale
ingegno che bontade.
424 KENNETH McKENZIE.
13.
[E3, f. 107 b ; E1? f. 46 b]
DEL CHAUALLO GBA8SO E DEL MAGRO.
Uno chauallo grasso choreua per suo diletto in uno pratto in
qua e in lla, e uide un altro chauallo molto magro, e inchontanente
prese a perchuoterlo, e quegli auea lo dosso rotto, pieno di piaghe ;
si gli disse : " ua uia, tomiti d'inanzi, ch'io non ti posso sofferire per
5 la puza che uiene del tuo dosso." rispuosse il chauallo magro chon
umilta e disse : "perche m'ai tu in odio? io fu gia grasso chome tu,
ne non fui pigiore di tte ; mal fai che mi perchuoti e non ai
misericchordia di me, pero che simigliante potrebbe anchora interuenire
a tte." lo chauallo grasso rispuosse chon superbia e disse : " o fasti-
10 dioso, chome se' ttu arditto di fauellare, che ssono chosi forte e
bello." e ppoi lo fedi e diegli de chalci e cchaciollo dinanzi da sse.
E da iui a pochi di questo chauallo grasso stando nella istalla, li
soprauene una pessima e rea infermitta nel piede, della qualle lo
suo signiore non '1 pote fare guarire per alchuna medicina, e cosie
15 il fecie mettere in quello pratto nel qualle era istatto il magro ; ma
ora non era magro ne infermo. E quando questo ch' era in prima grasso
si uide chossi subito magro e infermo, ebbe grande uerghognia
quando uide 1' altro ch'era magro correre a llui sano e grasso. E il
magro di prima li disse : ' ' tu sse magro e ai i piedi enfiatti ; non ti
20 turbare, stae quanto tu uoi e mangia di die e di notte di questa erba,
che tosto sarai guaritto e grasso, e ritornerai alia tua degnitta, e
ricchorderatti della inia infermitta, e quando se' in prosperitta si tti
guarda d'auersitta." e dette queste parolle lo chauallo ch'era in
prima magro rittornossi al suo albergho sano e ghagliardo di chorpo
25 e di menbra, e '1 chauallo grasso rimase nel pratto e morie. Questo
essenpro ci mostra che niuno dee spregiare lo suo prossimo perche '1
uegha pouero o in anima o in chorpo, ma dee pensare come dicie il
sauio : quello che siamo noi, fu gia questi ; e quello ch' e chostui,
potremo essere noi.
Title B! Dvno chavallo grasso et dvno magro. 3 ms perchuotello. 6 Kj
umiltade perche. 7 ms chenmi. 11 Kt dichalcio. 14 Ej stare a gua-
rire. 15 E! quello medesimo. 16 Et grasso e sano. 17 ms sil uide ;
ms infermo e quando questo chera in prima qrasso ebbe grande ; Bt infermo
quando questo chera inprima grasso e sano si vide chosi subito ebe grande. 18
ms corerre Et chorere. 19 Et il piede eftatto. 22 ms prospera. 23 Bx
daversita / e quando se in medicaeie aledevi (?) bonefacie detto questo. 28 ms
nofugiamo questo e quello che chosi.
ITALIAN BESTIARIES. 425
14.
[Rs, £. 108 a ; Hv f. 47 a]
DEL TORO E DEL LIONE E DEL BECHO.
Lo toro avendo gran paura d'uno leone ch'usaua d'uno monte,
peruene a una grotta d'uno monte la ou'era uno beccho ; ebbe
grosse parolle cho llui, e no llo lascio entrare. E llo toro disse :
" se non fosse che '1 leone mi cchaccia e mi tiene chosi corto,
5 io ti mostrere quanto sono migliore di tte ; ma perche mi seguiscie,
non uoglio contendere qui teccho, percio che ttenpo e da ueghiare
a cchi t'affende, e tenpo e da infigniere di non uedere." Questo
ne mostra che ssono moJti huomwu che anno ardire di chontendere
chol' loro nimicci piu forti di llui per altri piu forti di
10 loro, i qualli cholloro molto temono ; e percio ogni uomo dee
temere lo suo maggiore e a baldanza altrui non cominciare romore.
E sopratutto dobbiamo amare e temere e onorare lo nostro signiore
idio, onde folle e chi teme la pena di questa uitta che tosto
trapassera, e non teme le pene del inferno che ttutto tenpo deono
15 durare. Onde chollui e da temere che a podestade di mettere
1' an i ma e '1 chorppo al fuocho del inferno, e chi questo fara
benedizione e grazia da dio aura, perccio che salamone disse che '1
tiinore di dio e chustodia di uita.
15.
[Rs, f. 108 a ; Ru f. 47 a]
DEL LIONE E DELLA UACHA E DELLA PECHORA Trr.T.A CHAPRA E
DEL CIERBIO.
Lo leone e lla uaccha e lla pechora e lla chapra andando per
una grande selua in chonpagnia insieme, si trouarono vn cierbio
bello e grasso, e llo leone lo prese e chomincio a partire e disse :
' ' la prima parte e mia, percio che ssono Re ; la sechonda e mia, percio
5 ch' io chorro piu di uoi ; la terza piglio per mia parte ; la quarta
lascio, ma chiunque la torra, si m'ara per suo nimicho e per nimicho
il trattero." E chossi ebbe il leone tutto il cierbio, e lla uacha e lla
Title ms ddione ; Rt Dvno toro e dvno leone. 1 ms daleone, 2 Par
del monto we becco. 3 Rj choltoro. 4 ms fusse. 5 Rt mostrerey
quantw. 7 Rt Questo esempro. 9 ms piu forti dittui per altri piu forti
dillui per altri piu forti di loro. 10 ms temo ; ms ongniumo. 14 ms
teme deichose delonfemo.
Title ms Delione. 3 Rt chomicioUo. 6 Rj torn mara. 7 Rj traterey ;
ms eatta uacha ealla pecchora ealla chapra non eboro.
426 KENNETH McKENZIE.
pechora e lla chapra non eboro niente. Questo e detto a nostro
ghastighamento, che amicho ch'e maggiore uuole essere a tuttore ;
10 amor bassa e dispone, e parte chome il leone. E pero non ci dobiamo
achonpagniare chon piu possenti di noi, che per auentura piglierebe
la sua parte e la nostra di cio che fosse insieme aquistato. e spiritu-
almente dobiamo intendere che niuno non dee auere chonpagnia chol
diauollo, ch' egli ci torebbe 1'anima e '1 chorpo e '1 mondo e lla
15 moneta ; ma chon dio dobiamo auere chonpagnia, lo quale non ruba
ma dona a ciaschuno benificio abondeuolmente e non rinprouera.
16.
[E3, f. 108 a-b; E1} f. 47 b.]
DEL PASTORE E DEL S-EfiPENTE.
Uno pastore dormiua in uno chanpo e uno serpente gli s'auolsse
alia ghola e tutto si lo cinse cholla sua choda ; e quando il pastore
si uolle leuare, non potea, e '1 serpente disse : "se ttu uuogli uiuere
non ti leuare." e '1 pastore nonne auea ardire di tocchare il ser-
5 pente chon mano, e no llo potea perchuotere chol bastone ch'auea
allatto, perche era in sua podesta e faciea quello che '1 serpente
diciea, e non si mouea ma staua mansuetto chome la quaglia sotto
10 sparuiere e chome lo grue sotto il falchone, e preghaua infra '1
suo chuore il signiore idio, che auesse miserichordia di lui, e cche
10 llo diliberasse di maluagia morte. E infra tanto il serpente uide
la rana che uenia inuerso di lui ; allora inchontanente si leuo e
isuolsesi dal chollo al pastore e uenne alia rana per manicharla.
E '1 pastore, uedendosi dispacciato, si dirizo susso in piede e prese
11 bastone ch'era in terra e diede al serpente vn grande cholpo
15 sicche quasi non si potea muouere ; e '1 serpente disse: "pastore,
pastore, che e quello che tu ai fatto chontra di me, che m'ai quasi
morto, ed io istetti sopra di tte e non ti uolli vccidere, anzi ebbi
piatta e mercie di te; ma ss'io ti trouerro piu donnire, ghuarda
ch'io non ti renda il guidardone." disse il pastore : " quegli e
20 nimicho di sse medesimo che perdona la morte al nimiccho suo."
9 E! gastigagione vole essere atultore.
Title E! Dvno pastore et dvno serpente. 1 N dormendo in un prato. 4 E!
ardimento. 5 ms chellauea. 6 ms chonsua ; N sotto laforca del serpente.
8 N sparuiere End suo quore preghava iddio. 10 N schapasse da mala.
10 N and E! vide venire verso se ma grande rana. 13 N isuiluppato si rico.
14 N battachiata. 16 N 0 pastore o che e ; ms chenmai. 18 Ej piata e miseri-
chordia ; N piu adormire, ghuardati da me che io ti rendero il simile.
ITALIAN BESTIARIES. 427
allora alzo il bastone e uccisse inchontanente il serpente. Quest o
esenpro dona amaestramento che quando il sauio huomo vede che
nun si possa uendichare del nimicho suo, si dee atendere e ghuar-
dare tenppo e luogho, sicche possa uinciere il nimiccho suo ebon
25 sichurta di se medesimo. Onde salamone disse : tenpo e da parlare,
tenpo e da taciere, tenpo e da chacciare, tenpo e da fuggire, tenpo
e da uendichare a cchi tti ofende, tenpo e da infigniere e di non
uedere. E p«ro cholui ch'e sauio atende a guardare suo luogho e
tenpo, ma '1 folle non guarda stagione ; ma spiritual men to douette
30 sapere che lla piu nobille chosa e gienerazione di uendetta che
1' huomo possa fare, si e di perdonare quando 1'uomo ae forza e possa
di potersi uendichare.
Finiscie Ilibro della natura degli animali deo grazias amen : —
21 ms ucciselo. 23 ms suoesi. 25 ms tenpo .e. da parlare tenpo .e. da
parlare. Explicit lacking in Rj ; N Laus deo Adi primo di Mar$o 1482.
Finite e libro degli animali chiamato Fwre di virtu maggiore.
NOTES ON THE FABLES.
1.
Like most of the fables in the collection, this one is in Ham (No. 10 :
Units piscator piscabat . . . ) ; and like the rest of the first six, it is also in
Avianus, No. 20. Greek versions are known : Babrius, No. 6 ; FabuUe
^sopiccE CoUectce, ed. Halm, No. 28. From Avianus it was taken by
Steinhowel, and from him through a French translation by Caxton
(Avian. 16) ; see Steinhowel's ^Esop, ed. Oesterley, 1873, and J. Jacobs,
The Fables of ^Esop as printed by Caxton in 1484, London, 1889. La Fon-
taine has the fable (v, 3) ; for many more references and parallels see
Jacobs, op. tit. ; La Fontaine, (Euvres, ed. Regnier, Paris, 1883, vol. I, p.
372 ; Robert, Fables inedites et fables de La Fontaine, Paris, 1825, I, 309 ;
Hervieux, Fabulistes Latins, vol. in.
2.
Ham 11 : Quattwr grandes et fortes tauri iurauerunt . . . Avianus 18,
Babrius 44, Halm 394, Steinhowel, etc., Av. 14. Cf. La Fontaine's Le
Vieillard et ses enfants (livre iv, fable 18) ; Regnier, I, 335, Robert, I, 288.
3.
Ham 12, Avianus 16 (cf. 19), La Fontaine, I, 22 ; see notes of Regnier
and Robert in editions cited.
Line 15. Meaning?
18-25. On Lucifer and his fall, and on pride as the root of all sin, cf.
428 KENNETH McKENZIE.
in the bestiary the chapter lupo (G-W, pp. 35, 320). For further refer-
ences see Moore, Studies in Dante, second series, Oxford, 1899, pp. 185 ff.,
268. Cf. Isaiah xrv, 12 ; Luke x, 18 ; Dante, Inferno xxxiv, 34 ft., Purg.
xii, 25 ff.
26. Luke xiv, 11 : Omnis qui se exaltat, humiliabitur, et qui se
humiliat, exaltabitur. Cf. Luke xvm, 14 ; Matt, xxm, 12.
Ham 13 : Una copra pascebat in uno alto monte . . . Avianus has two
fables similar to this : no. 26 (Steinhowel Av. 19), Capetta et Leo, and no.
42 (Steinh. Av. 27), Lupus et Haedus. In the former, the lion sees the
goat grazing on a high rock, and tries to persuade her to come down below
where the eating is better ; in the second, the wolf tries to get the kid out
of the city into the fields. The original of Ham and the Italian texts was
perhaps a combination of these two. A closer parallel is found in a Greek
fable, Halm No. 270, where the wolf invites the goat to come down from
the mountain, and the goat replies, ' ' You do not call me that 1 may find
food for myself, but that I may furnish it to you." Cf. the somewhat
different fable of La Fontaine, iv, 15, which is a descendant from Romulus
(ed. Oesterley, n, 10 ; Steinhowel, n, 9). I cannot refrain from mention-
ing here the charming story of Alphonse Daudet, La CKevre de M. Seguin
(Lettres de man moulin).
8. From Ovid ; cf. Frati, Bicerche sul Fiore di Virtu, p. 354.
5.
Ham 14 : Quidam uilanus ducebat carrum suum . . . Avianus 32 : Busticus
et Hercules. Also in Greek (Halm 81 ; Babrius 20). Cf. La Fontaine,
VI, 18 : Le Chartier embourbe.
13. The reference to St. Paul is to the following passage, n Thess. iii,
11-12 : Audiuimus enim inter vos quosdam ambulare inquiete, nihil ope-
rantes, sed curiose agentes. lis autem, qui eiusmodi sunt, denuntiamus, et
obsecramus in Domino lesu Christo : ut cum silentio operantes, suum panem
manducent.
Pad quotes a different passage ( Matt, x, 22) : Si como dize lo vanzelio :
Qui persevarit usque in finem, ic salus erit.
Ham 15 : Cicada uenit ad formicam in yeme. et dixit ad earn, da michi
de grano tuo. quiafamem pacior. Tune formica dixit . . . tu tantum cantasti
in estate, modo uade saltare . . . The fable is in Avianus, No. 34 ; but as
it occurs in numerous collections there is no reason for deriving the Italian
version (or Ham) from Avianus, as it comes at the end of the group which
is so derived. There are several Greek versions, — Halm 401, 401 b, 295 ;
Babrius 137 ; the fable is not in Phaedrus or Walter of England, but it is in
Komulus (ed. Oesterley, Berlin, 1870, iv, 19 ; Steinhowel, Caxton, iv, 17 ;
ITALIAN BESTIARIES. 429
Hervieux, Fabulistes Latins, vol. n), Marie de France (ed. Warnke, 39 ;
Italian translation, ed. Rigoli, 20, ed. Brush, 18), Neckam 29, La Fontaine,
I, 1, and other collections. Several manuscripts in Florence contain an
Italian version in sonnet form of the fourteenth century, belonging to a
collection most of which is unpublished (cf. K. McKenzie, in Modern
Philology, April, 1904), although this particular sonnet was printed by A.
Mai in Spicilegium Homanum, i (1839), 686 :
Manchando alia cichala che mangiare
Di verno chiese del grano in prestanza, ece.
It will be noticed that in ~RIS and N we find cichale, formiche (plural),
whereas Par, Pad and E6 have cichala, formica ; the latter form was probably
original, Ham, Avianus and Eomulus having the singular.
The fable is evidently closely related to the description of the ant in the
bestiaries, where one characteristic is the storing up of food in the summer
(cf. G-W, pp. 16, 266, 440) ; and to the description of the cicala, which so
delights in its own singing that it forgets to provide food (G-W, pp. 36,
324, 440). Compare also the quotations below.
17. The quotation in the text is not exact; cf. Prov., VI, 6, 8 : Vade
ad formicam, o piger, et disce sapientiam . . . Parat in sestate cibum sibi,
et congregat in messe quod comedat.
25. Cf. Prov. xxx, 25 : Fonnicse, populus infirmus, qui prseparat in
messe cibum sibi. As before, the quotation is not exact ; the almost unin-
telligible words added to the quotation may mean something like: "in
season the food of grace for eternal glory." (?)
34. The quotation is nearly exact : Nihil pretiosius tempore, sed heu !
nihil hodie vilius sestimatur. S. Bernardi, Opera, torn, in (Migne, Patrol.
Lot., 184), col. 465 : Gaufridi, declamationes ex S. Bernardi sermonibus.
37. The quotation is from an opusculum ( " ad quid venisti," § 23) of St.
Bernard (same volume, col. 1198): Omne tempus tibi impensum exigetur a
te in die judicii. I do not know the origin or meaning of the words quare
sete spensus.
39. The quotation is not from Ecd. , but from Ezekid, vn, 6-8 : Finis
venit, venit finis . . . venit tempus, prope est dies occisionis . . . nunc de
propinquo effundam iram meam super te.
41. Wisdom (Liber Sapientics), n, 5 : Umbrae enim transitus est tempus
nostrum.
7.
This fable has not been found elsewhere, not even in Ham ; but its simi-
larity to the familiar fable of the Wolf and the Lamb, referred to in line 5,
is evident (Phaedrus, I, 1, Lupus et Agnus ; Bxnnulus and descendants, No.
2 ; La Fontaine, I, 10, etc.).
The quotation added at the end in Rt is from Psalm xxxvn, 19 (Eng-
lish Bible, XXXVTII, 18): Et cogitabo pro peccato meo, etc.
430 KENNETH McKENZIE.
Excepting the Latin version in Ham, no source or parallel has yet been
found for this curious tale, which is hardly a fable. It is the longest of the
sixteen, even without the excessively long moral of E and N ; in Par, Pad
and Ham the moral is reduced to a few lines. The beginning and end in
Ham (No. 39):
Crudelis latro absconsus manebat in via, et expoliabat
quos poterat aprehendere . . . Hec fabula significat
quod illi qui faciunt malum aliis, multociens cadunt
in magnum periculum, et iam aliquando sunt mortui.
Apparent traces of rhyme may be noticed in lines 17-21.
9. I have not traced the origin of the proverbial saying : Qui verum
dicit non labored ; it does not occur in Ham or Pad. Notice that it is trans-
lated in N ; and in the form there used : Chi dice il vero non s' affatica, it is
given by Giusti, Proverbi Toscani, Firenze, 1853, p. 298. For the general
idea, cf. Sophocles, Antigone, v. 1195.
12. Cf. Ham : die michi quot dies mansisti. Et latro habitauerit ibi
per tres annos. sed falax dixit illic mansisse per decem dies.
46. The story of Perillus and Phalaris is, in fact, told by Ovid, Ars
Amatoria, I, 653-6 :
Et Phalaris tauro violenti membra Perilli
Torruit : infelix imbuit auctor opus.
Justus uterque fuit : neque enim lex sequior ulla,
Quam necis artifices arte perire sua.
But the Italian version doubtless comes from the Gesta Romanorum, (ed.
Oesterley, Berlin, 1872, No. 48); cf. the following with lines 61-4 of the
Italian: "quod michi crudeli crudelior obtulisti, nulla enim equior racio
est, quam necis artificis arte perire sua, ut dicit Ovidius."
72. This story, also, probably comes from the Gesta Romanorum, No.
146: "Kefert Augustinus in de civitate dei quod Dyonides pirata galea
una longo tempore," etc. In the de Civ. Dei, lib. IV, cap. 4, the version
is very short, and the name of the pirate is not mentioned. In the Fiore
di Virtii the story is quoted from the Storie Romane ; cf. Frati, Ricerche sul
R di V., pp. 413-5.
127. Matt, xi, 15 : Qui habet aures audiendi, audiat.
Ham 40 (very short); Phsedrus, I, 24, Rana rupta et Eos ; Romulus, II,
21 (ed. Oesterley), n, 20 (Steinhowel); La Fontaine, I, 3 ; Halm, No. 84;
Babrius, 28 ; Uno da Siena, 41 ; ed. Ghivizzani, 40.
10. Cf. La Fontaine :
ITALIAN BESTIARIES. 431
Le monde est plein de gens qui ne sont pas plus sages :
Tout bourgeois veut batir comme les grands seigneurs,
Tout petit prince a des ambassadeurs,
Tout marquis veut avoir des pages.
12. Cf. fable 3, and notes ; also Pad, G-W, p. 70.
10.
Ham 41 : Rains cum uettet descendere per catenam . . . The nearest parallel
is a fable by Odo of Cheriton (in Hervieux, Fabulisles Latins, vol. IV (1896),
p. 227, No. 56): the mouse falls into a pot of wine, and is rescued by the
cat, promising to come when called ; but when the cat calls, the mouse
refuses to come out of her hole.
11.
Ham 43 : Uvlpis cum uideret ceruum dixit . . . No other exact parallel
has been found, but a very similar fable is that of the Ape and the Fox, —
Romulus, m, 17 (Oesterley and Steinhowel) and its descendants, e. g.,
Marie de France, 28. Several Italian versions (from Marie : ed. Eigoli
and ed. Brush, 34 ; from Walter of England : ed. Ghivizzani, No. 56 ;
Uno da Siena, 56 ; verse translation, ed. Monaci, 1892, No. 16). Old
French versions published by Martin, Eine Renartfabel, in Zeits.f. R. P.,
VI, 347, and Robert, op. cit., n, 476. With the ending of this fable, — the
stag tosses the fox on his horns — compare fable 7, where the stag attempts
to treat the wolf in the same way.
12.
For references on this fable, see the article already cited : K. McKenzie,
A Sonnet ascribed to Chiaro Davanzati and its place in Fable Literature ( 1898),
where, however, this Italian version is not mentioned ; and cf. Warnke,
Die Quetten des Esope der Marie de France, No. 67, in Festgabefur H. Suchier,
Halle, 1900. There are two Italian versions from Walter of England ( ed.
Ghivizzani, No. 36 ; Uno da Siena, No. 36), but the fable is not included
in the translation from Marie de France. The other early Italian versions
belong to the popular type as distinguished from that in Walter of Eng-
land and the other descendants from Phsedrus (e. g., La Fontaine, IV, 9);
they are, first, the prose text now published ; next, the sonnet of Chiaro ;
a little poem of twenty-four lines ascribed to Dante (first published by F.
Redi, Bacco in Toscana, 1685, p. 104):
Quando il consiglio degli augei si tenne ;
and, finally, a prose version in Venetian dialect ( Trattati religion, ed.Ulrich,
No. 36 ; also in Romania, xm, 47). The nearest Latin versions are per-
haps those of Odo of Cheriton (Hervieux, Fab. lot., iv, No. 3) and of an
432 KENNETH McKENZIE.
anonymous collection derived from various sources (Hervieux, op. cit., vol.
n, 2e Edition, 1894, p. 603). It is to be noticed that N (line 1) ascribes
the fable to ^Esop ; but this is of little use in trying to determine what
medieval collection was the source. The fact that the crow puts aside
its own feathers suggests the group of versions represented by Marie de
France.
11. The expression fare delV altrui farina maccheroni occurs in fable 11,
line 5. Farina propria is a proverbial expression.
18. Proper reading ?
13.
Ham 44. No other parallel found. Cf. an Indian tale of a fat cow and
a lean cow in Dubois, Pantcha-tantra, p. 166 ; Benfey, Pantschatantra, I, 387.
14.
No parallel found.
7. Cf. fable 16, line 25, and notes.
15. Cf. Luke, xn, 5.
17. Prov. , x, 27 : Timor Domini apponet dies.
15.
Ham 19. There is nothing in this version of the familiar fable of the
Lion's share which could not have been derived from the descendants of
Phsedrus (Eomulus, Walter, Uno da Siena, etc., No. 6). On an unpub-
lished Italian sonnet,
La pechora ella chapra colla vaccha,
cf. K. McKenzie, in Modern Philology, April, 1904. On the fable in gen-
eral, see K. G6rski, Die Fabel vom LowenantheU, Berlin, 1888, and Sudre,
Les Sources du Roman de Renart, pp. 124 ff.
16.
No exact parallel found. In Gesta Romanorum, No. 99, a man saves a
serpent from a poisonous toad, and is bitten by the toad ; later the serpent
sucks out the poison and cures the man.
25. Ecclesiastes, in, 1-8 ; especially :
(3) Tempus occidendi, et tempus sanandi.
(6) Tempus custodiendi, et tempus abjiciendi.
(7) Tempus scindendi, et tempus consuendi.
Tempus tacendi, et tempus loquendi.
(8) Tempus dilectionis, et tempus odii.
Cf. fable 14, line 7 ; and a sonnet ascribed to King Enzo (Poeti del Primo
Secolo, I, 177 ; translated by Kossetti, Dante and his Cirde) , of which the
first eight lines read :
ITALIAN BESTIARIES. 433
Tempo vien di satire e di scendere
E tempo 6 di parlare e di tacere,
E tempo di ascoltare e d'imprendere,
Tempo di molte cose provedere,
E tempo fc di vegghiare e d'offendere,
E tempo di minacce non temere,
E tempo 6 d'ubbidire e riprendere
E tempo 6 d'infinger non vedere.
As to the sources of the fables as a collection, five or six
of them are seen to come from Avianus, the rest from various
sources, some of which are at present unknown.
KENNETH MCKENZIE.
PUBLICATIONS
OF THE
Modern Language Association of America
19O5.
VOL. XX, 3. NEW SERIES, VOL. XIII, 3.
XIII. — THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE.
The chief prose works of the fifteenth century in France,
by common consent, are the long pseudo-chivalric romance
entitled Le Petit Jehan de Saintre, the satire on women called
Les Quinze Joyes de Mariage and the collection of tales known
as Les Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles. The author of the first work
alone names himself: it is Antoine de la Sale, a native of
Provence, known also as the author of several didactic works,
La Salade, La Satte, Le Reconfort, etc. The author of the
Quinze Joyes has hidden his identity in a riddle which has
not yet been satisfactorily deciphered. Not even a hint as
to the author or editor of the Cent Nouvelles is contained in
the manuscript. Led astray by an erroneous interpretation
of the riddle, Pettier in 1830 ascribed the Quinze Joyes to
La Sale. Le Roux de Lincy did the same for the Cent
Nouvelles, in 1841. The first scientific attempt to prove
these ascriptions was made by L. Stern in 1870.1 Stern
sought to establish La Sale's authorship of the Cent Nouvelles
by a comparison of certain details of style and by the fact,
1 Versuch uber Antoine de la Sale, in Archiv fur das Studium der neueren
Sprachen, XI/VT, 113-218.
435
436 WILLIAM PIERCE SHEPAKD.
noticed more in detail later, that a " conte " addressed to La
Sale appears as one of the hundred tales. This was followed
immediately by the paper of E. Gossart,1 which gave special
attention to the Quinze Joyes. Gossart2 showed that La
Sale, in La Salle and in Saintre, had made use of St. Jerome's
paraphrase of Theophrastus, also cited in the prologue of the
Quinze Joyes. However, as M. Raynaud has pointed out,3
this epistle of Jerome, with that of Valerius, also cited in
the Quinze Joyes, was the chief source of most of the dia-
tribes against marriage in the Middle Ages.
The conclusions of Stern and Gossart were accepted un-
conditionally by most succeeding writers, as for example by
Gaston Paris,4 Lanson, 5 Suchier-Birch-Hirschfeld,6 Petit de
Julleville7 and others. Grober8 alone denied La Sale's
claim to the authorship of the Cent Nouvelles; he is more
inclined to admit that of the Quinze Joyes, but is not fully
convinced even of this.
Within the last two years, the question of the authorship
of these has again come to the fore. M. Joseph N£ve, in
an exhaustive work on La Sale,9 denies his right to be con-
sidered the author of the two disputed works. Nave's
conclusions have been accepted, fully by Professor Foerster,10
partially by M. Raynaud.11 The latter still clings to La
lAntoine de la Salle, sa Vie et ses Oeuvres inedites, Bibliophile beige, 6e anne*e
(1871), pp. 1-17, 45-56, 77-88; reprinted and enlarged as a separate
pamphlet, Bruxelles, 1902.
2 Pp. 83 ff. * Romania, xxxm, 107.
* La Poesie du moyen dge, 2e s£rie, p. 254 ; Primer of Mediaeval French
Literature, 138.
& Histoire de la litterature fran$aise, 1895, pp. 166-167.
6 Geschichte der franzosischen Litteratur, pp. 252-53.
7 Histoire de la langue et de la litterature francaises, n, pp. 394-97.
8 Grundriss, u, 1, 1152-54.
9Antoine de la Salle, sa vie et ses ouvrages, Paris et Bruxelles, 1902.
10 Litteralurblatt fur german. und roman. Philologie, 1903, col. 402 ff.
nLoc. cit., pp. 107 ff.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 437
Sale's authorship of the Cent NouveUes. The decisive argu-
ment, for him, is the fact that the story of Floridam et Elvide,
addressed by Rasse de Brunhamel to La Sale, is reproduced
as the 98th Nouvelle, under the name of L'Acteur. This
coincidence was first pointed out by Stern.1 It is not con-
sidered final by Neve, Grober, or Foerster. The Quinze
Joyes and its author have also been discussed by the anony-
mous author of Une fhrigme d'histoire litteraire,2 who likewise
rejects La Sale's claims and propounds a new solution of the
riddle. For him the person concealed in the rebus is
the Abbot Pierre II of Samer (1377) and the date of the
work must consequently be set back to the fourteenth
century. These conclusions have not yet been confirmed or
accepted.3 The question, then, remains undecided, at least
till the appearance of the more exhaustive studies promised
us by Foerster and Soderhjelm.4
The purpose of the following pages is to compare, more
or less exhaustively, the syntax of the three works under
consideration. The treatise does not aspire to be a complete
exposition of the syntax of these works, but simply of those
features which offer most interest in a comparative study. I
trust, however, that it will not be without interest to students
of the historical grammar of the Middle French period.
The Syntax of the Cent NouveUes has already been made the
subject of a special study by J. Ulrich Schmidt ; 5 in most
cases I have accepted his results, so far as they go. For
Saintre and the Quinze Joyes, I have made a copious col-
lection and classification of the chief syntactical phenomena.
1 Loc. cit. , pp. 149 ff.
s Paris, 1903. Cf. the reviews by Foerster, loc. cit., col. 406, and by J.
Be'dier, Romania, xxxin, pp. 438 ff.
sSee especially Foerster' s long article, already cited.
4 Cf. Antoine de la Sale et la legende du Tannhduser, Memoires de la Societe
neo-phttologique a Helsingfors, XI, 101 ff.
5 See list of works consulted.
438 WILLIAM PIEECE SHEPAED.
For purposes of comparison, I have often adduced the results
of similar investigations of other writers of the period, espe-
cially Deschamps, Alain Chartier, and Commines.
It is regrettable that we do not possess as yet a trust-
worthy critical text of Saintr6 and the Quinze Joyes. HellSny's
edition of Saintre, which I have employed, is a mere reprint
of that of Guichard 1 (1843). It is based mainly on a single
manuscript,2 corrected occasionally by two of another family.3
I do not believe, however, that the establishment of a criti-
cal text would seriously affect the results. The variants
given by M. Raynaud4 consist mainly in the addition or
omission of words or phrases which do not alter the con-
struction. Moreover, the manuscript J represents one of
La Sale's latest revisions, only two others (G and H) being
posterior to it. Jannet' s edition of the Quinze Joyes is based
likewise on a single manuscript, that of Rouen (dated 1464).
Jannet' s text is faulty in a few passages. As, however, the
three known manuscripts,5 according to Professor Foer§ter,6
are simply copies of a single original, it is probable that here
also the establishment of a critical text would not seriously
invalidate my results.7 Wright's text of the Cent Nouvettes
is based on the single known manuscript and is generally
xCf. the remarks of M. Raynaud, Romania, xxxi, 532, n., 544.
2 MS. I (Raynaud), B. N. Fr. 1506, dated 1459.
'Raynaud, loc. cit., 5443.
4 .Loc. tit., 538 ff.
5 Rouen, Chantilly, and St. Petersburg.
6 Loc. tit., col. 408.
7 1 have unfortunately not been able to obtain the recent dissertations of
Soelter (Greifswald, 1902) and Dressier (Greifswald, 1903) on the St.
Petersburg and Chantilly MSS. respectively. I have, however, partly com-
pared the text of the Jannet edition with that of the editio princeps, lately
reprinted by Heuckenkamp (Halle, 1901). The latter text is much
shortened and somewhat rejuvenated (que que becomes quoi que, preposition
o omitted, more frequent use of the subject-pronoun, etc.), but otherwise
the syntactical peculiarities established for the Jannet text hold good for
it also.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 439
considered trustworthy. Doubtless a critical revision of all
three texts would produce some modifications of the details
of the syntax ; but I believe that the chief differences in
construction established by these comparisons would persist.
THE DEFINITE AETicLE.1
The use of the definite article was notably extended in the
course of the fifteenth century.2 But usage was still very
loose and variable, so that we may expect a marked but
hardly constant difference in the prose of the period. Such
is the case in the works under consideration. The propor-
tion 3 (compared to present usage) of use to omission of the
article is in P, 4:1; in Q, 5:1; but in C, 7 : 1.4 The
higher proportion of omission in P is due to the frequent
lack of the article with definite concrete nouns, determined
in the sentence,8 as, for example : P, 170, lea aultres dames
et damoyselles prindrent aussi chevaliers et escuyers qui estoyent
venus avecques luy; 308, tant que destriers peurent aller; 411,
lor s veissiez dames et moynnes de trembler; cf. also 101, 152,
200, 247, 267, 308, 359, 395, etc.
I have noted but one similar example in Q : 9, lors
regarde lieu et temps et heure de parler de la matiere. In C
such constructions are much less numerous than in P, occur-
ring only in lively narration with an historical infinitive.6
1 1 am of the opinion that henceforth all syntactical studies should adopt
the divisions of Meyer-Liibke in volume in of the Romanische Grammatik.
If, in this paper, I have followed the older grouping by parts of speech, it
has been solely for convenience of reference to the preceding study by
Schmidt.
»Cf. M-L., §§ 142-190; Gellrich, pp. 53-61.
8 In cases of enumeration, the reader should bear in mind the length of
the three works, which are of the same format. P contains 430 pages,
Q 146, C 649. * Schmidt, page 1.
6A construction common in O. F. ; cf. Tobler, V£.t n, 96 ff.
6 For examples, see Schmidt, 4.
440 WILLIAM PIERCE SHEPARD.
With concrete nouns, denoting an object unique in its
kind, the article is generally omitted. Of these, paradis
and enfer are always found without the article : P, 36,
semblable a enfer; 56, la porte de paradis ; — Q, 5, avoir
paradis. Terre varies in Q, and C: Q,,1 10, trainent jusques
d, terre; 3, la terre est deserte; but in P terre seems to be
always without the article : 31, 61, 429, etc. With soleil,
lune, and ciel the article appears regularly in all three works :
P, 30, 57, 117; Q, 75, etc.
With class-names the variation is substantially the same
in each. The older usage predominates, but examples of
class-names with the article occur not infrequently. The
varying usage is well shown by the following sentence (P,
32) : quel chose est meilleur que Vor ? jaspe. Quel chose est
meilleur que jaspe ? sens. Cf. also P, 42 : qui meet home
hors de la grace de Dieu; 31, 34, 60, 61, 152, etc. ; — Q,
62, ils ne prisent riens pauvres femmes ; 24, 42, 81, 92, etc.
But, with the article : P, 39, non pas vivre pour boire et
pour manger, comme les pourceaute font ; 7, 8, 38, 40, etc.; —
Q, 3, tettes fosses fait I' en a prendre les bestes saulvages ; 21,
34, 78, etc.2
With nouns denoting parts of the body3 many traces of
the O. F. usage appear in P and C. P, 44, en ame, en corps
(cf. 69, en I'ame et en corps)} 79, sur piez; 210, il fust de
teste, de corps ou de bras tellement desarme; also 57, 251,
266, 287, 306, etc. For examples in C, see Schmidt, page
2. But in Q only one (doubtful) example of this usage has
been observed ; 5, sans incision de membres. The article,
however, is frequently found with such nouns : P, 33, seiche
le corps et fait le cueur inique; 60, 79, 106, etc.; — Q,, 5,
mater la chair; 23, sous les piez ; 4, 8, 13, 24, 35, etc.
>See Schmidt, 1. »Cf. M.-L., § 161.
2 For C, see Schmidt, 2.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 441
Before abstract nouns l the omission of the article is quite
general in all three works. In Q, however, more examples
of the modern usage are found than in P or C. Thus in Q
I have counted 29 examples of abstracts without the article
to 13 with it; the proportion is thus approximately 2:1.
In P (first 60 pages) a count gave 59 examples of omission
to 5 of use, or approximately 11:1. In C no examples with
the article are given by Schmidt.2 The syntax of P and C
here agrees substantially with that of Chartier.3
Proper nouns of any kind are so rare, especially in Q,
that a definite comparison cannot be made. Note however
the following: P, 4, en Brebant ; 301, six provinces, c'est
assavoir, Judie, Persie, Sirie, Egypte, Surie, et Asie; — Q, 2,
dont advint que France fut la plus noble terre du monde. But,
P, 306, la grant Hermenie; 429, sur le Rome. For C, see
Schmidt, pp. 3, 4.
With nouns denoting divisions of time,4 to which may be
added words like messe, vepres, the variation is constant in
P and Q : P, 60, Karesme, Pasques, Noel; 64, oyez messe;
74, pour estre dimenche ainsijoly ; 354, vespres commencerent
a sonner ; — Q, 24, une heure ou deux de nuii ; 43, jusques a
matin. But, P, 65, la messe ouyr; 7 Q, jusques au dimenche;
108, le printemps; 139, la minuyt; — Q, 26, de toute la nuit;
43, jusques au matin; 101, le samedi.
With attributive tout, tous, an enumeration of the examples
in the first 100 pages of P and Q gave the following result :
P, 21 cases of omission to 14 of use; Q, 15 cases of
omission to 19 of use. In C (see Schmidt, 4) the modern
usage predominates, though many examples of omission occur.
Contrary to the modern rule, in P and C the article is
regularly employed with a cardinal number, denoting a part
of a larger number, expressed or understood : 6 P, 57, les
»Cf. M.-L., § 151. *Cf. M.-L., § 149.
'PageS. 'Cf. Diez, 792.
8Cf. Eder, 15 ft.
442 WILLIAM PIERCE SHEPARD.
sept vertus principattes, les trois sont divines, les quatre sont
morattes; 161, XII lances, dont les six estoient du tout armees
et vestues; 65, 72, 164, 197, 220, 223, 239, 363, 402, 407.
For examples in C, see Schmidt, 5. No examples are found
in Q, but this is possibly due to chance.
Worthy of notice is the fact that in P alone examples are
found of the omission of the article with meme, a construc-
tion common in Middle French r1 164, lews selles couvertes
de mesme drap d'or dont ilz estoient houssez; 333, 405. No
cases are found in Q or C, but this is not an archaic trait.
THE INDEFINITE ARTICLE."
In respect to the indefinite article, the relative proportions
are somewhat different from those of the definite. Q is
most conservative, P next, and C most modern. In general,
the proportion of use to omission is in Q, 1 \ : 2 ; hi P, 1 : 1 ;
in C,3 2:1. Examples: P, 20, avez vous dame choisie; 173,
bien grant temps fut passe" avant de cesser; 207,t/ofo# ce que
Boudquault fust puis tres vaittant chevalier; 387, damp Abbez,
qui estoit gracieuh sire; — Q, 14, safemme . . . . est bonne et
preudefemme; 52, vous ne vistes oncques plus honneste femme
ne plus doulce, etc. For C, see Schmidt, 6.
With comparative si, aussi,* P has 10 examples with the
article to 9 of omission, Q, but 2 cases of use to 15 of
omission. In C, according to Schmidt,5 examples with the
article are " ganz vereinzelt."
With autre, we find in P the article expressed 11 times,
omitted 4 times; in Q, it is expressed 11 times, omitted 11
times ; in C,6 examples with the article are " selten."
1Cf. M.-L., § 170.
2Cf. M.-L., §§ 191-200, Schayer, ZurLehrc vom Gebrauch des unbestimmlen
Artikels und des Teilungsartikds im Altfranzosischen, Berlin, 1896.
8 Schmidt, 6. * Worthy of note is the fact that aussi is not found in P.
5 Page 6. 6 Schmidt, 7.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 443
With id (100 pages), P uses the article 4 times, omits it
7 times ; Q uses it twice, omits it 14 times. But in C l the
modern usage is predominant. As examples of the omission
of the indefinite article with si, tel, autre, are still common
in the seventeenth century,2 no great weight can be ascribed
to these comparisons.
The old plural of the indefinite article s occurs rarely in
each of our works : P, 81, ces chausses d'escarlate et unes
aultres de brunette fine ; 195, unes ires belles heures (= livre
d'heures) ; 245, unes tres cleres et reluysantes bardes ; 422,
unes lettres; — Q, 34, unes bates, ungs esperons, unes vieilles
bouges ; 127, ungs sanglons. C4 has 5 examples.
THE PARTITIVE ARTICLED
The so-called partitive use of the preposition de with the
article began to extend itself vigorously in the course of
the fifteenth century, though omission was still the general
rule. All the examples of the partitive have been noted
and the results are presented in the following table : 6
de + article + ring, noun : P, 7 ; Q, 9 ; C, 16
de -f- adjective + sing- noun : P, 1 ; Q, 0 ; C, 1
de -\- art. -j- adj- + sing, noun : P, 1 ; Q, 2 ; C, 3
des + plural noun : P, 7 ; Q, 17 ; C, 8
de + adj. + plu. noun : P, 11 ; Q, 16 ; C, 9
des + adj. + plu. noun : P, 1 ; Q, 1 ; C, 2
Total, P, 28 ; Q, 45 ; C, 39
It will be seen that Q, although only one-third as long as
P, employs the partitive construction one and one-half times
1 Schmidt, 7. 'Haase, § 57. 8Cf. M.-L., § 199. * Schmidt, 7.
5Cf. Diez, 794 ; M.-L., § 366 ; for Commines' usage, which nearly agrees
with that of Q, see Stimming, 198.
6 For C, see Schmidt, 8, 9.
444 WILLIAM PIERCE SHEPARD.
more frequently. Examples, P : 64, de I'eaue benoiste; 75,
77, 211, 329, 356, 357 ; 367, de son vin; — 418, qui s'estoient
donnez du bon temps ensemble; — 69, je vousferay des biens ;
72, 72, 83, 106, 356, 428 ;— 98, de beaulx harnoys de drap ;
133, 141, 161, 264, 309, 345, 346, 378, 391, 405 ;— 109,
tu portes des bons conseils. Q, : 26, de la viande froide ; 44,
63, 71, 90, 94, 109, 119, 124; — 113, et se donnent du bon
temps; 114; — 30, et lui bailleront des actaintes ; 39, 42, 60,
62, 62, 62, 62, 82, 82, 82, 82, 121, 132, 132 ;— 22, et dient
de bonnes choses ; 37, 37, 45, 54, 81, 83, 91, 93, 100, 106,
106, 124, 128, 130; — 70, elk en a essaie des autires. Ex-
amples of the omission of the partitive occur on almost
every page.
With adverbs of quantity, the following examples of the
omission of partitive de have been noted : P, 83, aultres biens
assez; 87, il trouva argent assez et assez de demoutrance; 112,
il avoit oueur et corps assez pour fair e parler de luy ; 390, qui
leur font tres bonne chiere et honneur assez ; — Q, 7, il a aises
et plaisances largement; 28, fay assez robes; 40, n'a gueres
grant chevance; 47, elle a asses robes; 124, fay ung pou
affaires avec dies; — C1 has two examples with assez, one
with largement.
Contrariwise, the article is used with de and an adverb of
quantity in : P, 35, des riehesses assez; 36, tant engloutir des
ames; 100 (assez), 301 (assez), 311 (assez), 317 (tanf); — Q,
30, des biens et des vins plus qu'il n'en entreroit en une botte ;
88, des biens assez; 103, des nouvelles assez; — C2 has four
examples with largement, one with assez.
With adverbs of negation, I have counted nine examples
of the use of partitive de in P, to ten in Q. Here again
the proportion, taking into account Q's length, is much
greater in the latter. In C, according to Schmidt,3 the
modern usage predominates. The difference may be due to
1 Schmidt, 9. "Schmidt, 10. 'Page 10.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 445
the comparative infrequency of the negative complements,
pas, point, in P.
THE NOUN.
A few traces of the Old French system of declension
occur in Q, especially with the word homme, but they are
probably due to an affectation of archaism. on the part of the
scribe.1 Thus : 20, en laquette ne se doit bonier nuh sages
horns; 34, le bans horns; 54, et m'eist Dieux. In P the only
remnants of the O. F. nominative are the word Amours,
used constantly as a singular, and the expression damp Abbez.
No traces occur in C.
Examples of the O. F. genitive without de are found in
each work, somewhat more frequently in P than in Q or C.
Thus, aside from the common formula par Dieu mercy, la
Dieu mercy, we find in P : 66, Cassiodore diet au livre des
louanges sainct Pol; 67, et vous souviengne du did (substan-
tive) Albertus; 97, sur Vespaule. Jehan de Saintre" la mist; —
in Q : 12, par le sacrement Dieu; 88, en la chartre nostre
Seigneur. C 2 has three examples.
The O. F. dative without a occurs only in the formulae si
Dieu plaist, puisque Dieu plaist. Note also P, 227, le roy
m'a command^ vous dire, Vung et Vaultre.
THE ADJECTIVE.
A. Comparison.
To express the superlative idea, the definite article was
not necessary in Old French,3 and traces of this usage still
lingered in the seventeenth century.4 Of this older con-
struction, the following instances are found in these works : —
1Cf. Villon's "ballade en viel kngage franjois," G. T., 38&-412.
2 Schmidt, 11. "M.-L., § 162. 4Haase, § 29.
446 WILLIAM PIERCE SHEPARD.
(1) With a following adjective, the article is not repeated in
P, 223, les cinq plus grosses; 258, le seigneur de Padua
dernier; 312, leur desconffiiure plus brief ve. No similar cases
occur in Q and but one in C.1 — (2) In relative clauses, the
article is more frequently omitted, especially with adverbial
plus or mieux: P, 15, eelle qui plus desirez a estre sien ; 87,
les deux qui meilleures bouohes avoient; 16, 22, 84, 98, 131,
191, 211, 239, 333 ; — Q, 61, les gens du monde a quije suy
plus tenu; 87, 130. Schmidt1 cites four examples from
C. — (3) Of the O. F. favorite construction plus tot que pot,2
one example occurs in Q, one in C, none in P. Q, 96, a
laquette chose n'y a remede sinon la celer et reparer la chouse
a mieulx que Ton peut.
As examples of mieux for plus, I may cite : P, 360, pour
mieulx dignement gaigner vos pardons; — Q, 135,je les regarde
embridez et abestis mieulx que les autres.
The modern rule regarding the neuter superlative is not
observed in Q, 65 : je vous ferai la plus courrocee que vous
fustes oncques. The distinction was, however, practically
unknown even in the seventeenth century.3
B. Agreement.
When modifying two or more nouns, the adjective still
agrees with the nearest, as in Old French,4 in P and Q :
P, 127, la despense et finance a ce necessaire; 361, les veulx
et la chiere basse; — Q, 1, pour nulles prieres ne avoir; 34,
quelque jeu ou instrument qu'il voie. Schmidt gives no
examples of this rule from C, nor have I been able to
discover any.
Other variations from modern usage which may be noted
'Page 13. zCf. Tobler, VS., I, 171. "Haase, p, 61.
*A usage still common in Rabelais ; cf. Huguet, 392.
THE SYNTAX OP ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 447
are : P, 191, sauve sa grace; — 201, a nuds genoulx; — Q, 123,
plus de demie nuit.
One example is found in P and Q of the old licence die
fait le sourd : l P, 253, ma dame . ... tie voult pas estre la
plus courtoise, ainsi fist le sourt; — Q, 63, la dame fait le
malade.
In adverbial function, adjectives still vary as in Old
French,2 in P: 98, tons semblables vous enferezfaire de beaulx
harnoys de drap ; 324, chevaulx tons blancs; 410, telz
moynnes sont bien clers semez.3 No examples are found in Q,
which has the modern construction, 27, Dieu sceit comme elks
sont chier tenues et honnestement gardens. In C4 adverbial
tout agrees with feminine adjectives, but with masculine
plurals remains invariable, following the modern rule.
Schmidt cites no examples of other adverbial locutions.
C. Numerals.
P has six examples of the old construction, according to
which the tens, hundreds, etc., are connected by et:6 4,
dnquante et neuf; 98, cent et soixante; 338, mille et cinq
cens; 267, 301, 306. But without et: 99, cent soixante;
220 ; 286 ; 429, vingt deux. No examples occur in Q, but
this is purely fortuitous. Three with et are found in C.
Of other variations from present usage, we may note :
P, 112, deux mil escuz; but, 136, sept mille; 301, sept mitte,
cinq cens, quarante et huyt.
THE PERSONAL PRONOUNS.
Three examples of the old periphrasis with corps, per-
sonne,6 are found in P : 47, cette n'est point a comparager a
Nobler, VS., i, 166. JM.-L., § 130 ; Tobler, VS., I, 75 ft.
8Tobler, loc. cit., has no examples of this locution from O. F. texts;
"doch kann dies zufallig sein." 4 Schmidt, 41.
5Cf. Darmesteter, § 182. 6Diez, 809-810, Darmesteter-Sudre, § 398.
448 WILLIAM PIERCE SHEPARD.
ma personne; 326, n'y avoit celluy qui ne eust mis son corps
pour luy ; 406, et luy monstra ung chevalier semblable a sa
personne. One rather doubtful example occurs in Q, : 128,
par Nostre Dame du Puy, oil fay mon corps po?-te. No cases
are found in C. The periphrasis seems to have died quite
early. No examples occur in Deschamps, Chartier or Corn-
mines, nor in the sixteenth century authors cited by Huguet.
In regard to the use of the subject forms, je, tu, etc., as
tonic forms separated from the verb,1 a remarkable difference
is found between P and C on one side, and Q on the other.
I have noted in P nine examples of this construction : 42,
tu, mon seul Dieu, as hay et hais ; 45, il sur tons sera le
mieuh condicionne; 68; 113, Je qui vous ay choysi vous
prie; 122, 148, 164, 231, 384. Schmidt2 cites fifteen
examples from C, mostly of il with a parenthetical relative
clause. C, unlike P, has no example of tonic tu.3 But Q
has not a single example of these tonic subject forms, agree-
ing therein with Commines.4 Huguet5 thinks that this
construction died out toward the end of the fifteenth century,
but was later revived by Le Maire des Beiges and Rabelais.
Q, like Commines, has the modern usage fully developed :
62, lui .... lesse les parolles; 131, quar moy mesmes la
estranglasse ; etc.
Examples of pronouns in the predicate are so rare in P
and Q, that it is not possible to draw any definite conclusion.
Each has one example of the older usage : P, 333, certes, ce
fut il; — Q, 64, c'est il qu?il y fait venir. C contains six
similar examples.6 P nowhere shows a case of the modern
construction with the tonic object form,7 while Q has at least
one such example : 55, c'est moy.
1 Cf. Haase, V. and J., 11. 2 Page 16.
3 Deschamps' usage agrees with that of P : Voll, 12, 13.
4Stimming, 491. 5 Op. tit., p. 57. 6 Schmidt, 16.
7 The sentence, 335, ce n' est mye mon cueur, ne moy, is not conclusive.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 449
Before finite verbs, the tonic object forms are used only
with impersonal souvenir: P, 18, souwengne vous de moy ;
28, souviengne toy (cf. 62, qu'il vous souviengne); 68, etc.; —
Q, 49, souvengne vous de moy. C l has one similar example.
But the tonic dative with the preposition d} with verbs like
parler2 occurs commonly in all three works : P, 14, je vueil
cy parler d vous; 25, mettleur qu'd vous n' appartient ; 84, se
d moy ne le voullez dire; 241, a/in de mieulx deviser d, luy ;
395, fauroye plus grant besoing d'estre d luy recommande'; —
Q, 48, j'ay d parler d vous ; etc. For examples in C, see
Schmidt, 16, 17.
In Old French a well-known rule required that the tonic
object forms be employed with the infinitive and gerund.3
Traces of the modern construction, with the atonic forms,
appear first in Froissart.4 In Chartier 5 the older construc-
tion is still the more common. In Commines,6 however, the
modern usage, aside from purely reflexive soi, is fully
developed. An exact enumeration 7 of all the different cases
in our works has given the following results : —
Reflexive me, te, se, with the infinitive : P, 8 ; Q, 11 ; C (first 50
nouvelles), 23.
Reflexive me, te, se, with the gerund : P, 1 (140, en tfexcusant, in chapter-
heading8) ; Q, 2 (61, en se gratant la teste; 120, en se merencoliant) ; C, 1.
Reflexive moi, toi, soi, with the infinitive : P, 38 ; Q, 16 ; C (first 50
nouvelles), 23.
Reflexive moi, toi, soi, with the gerund : P, 10 ; Q, 3 ; C, 5.
Reflexive eux with the infinitive : P, 10 ; Q, 0 ; C, 4.
Reflexive eux with the gerund : P, 3 ; Q, 1 ; C, 0.
It will be seen that P has 61 examples of the tonic reflexives
to 9 of the atonic j Q, 20 to 13 ; C, 32 to 24. No clearer
1 Schmidt, 16. JM.-L., § 378 ; Voll, 20, 21.
"M.-L., § 722; Tobler, VB., n, 82-91.
* Zeitschrift fur roman. Phil., v, 326. Deschamps (Voll, 13 ff.) keeps to
the old usage.
5Eder, 62-3. eStimming, 492. 7For C, see Schmidt, 17-19.
8 Probably not La Sale's, cf. Raynaud, Romania, xxxi, 531-32.
450 WILLIAM PIEECE SHEPARD.
proof of the archaic character of P's syntax could be found.
La Sale is fully as conservative as Chartier. P has further-
more one example of plural soi, also an archaic trait : * 249,
avee luy quatre heraulx, pour le veoir et soy offrir a luy.
With the non-reflexive pronouns, the conservative character
of P is equally manifest : —
Non-reflexive me, te, with the infinitive: P, 1 (239, de I'honneur qu'U
vous a pleu mefaire) ; Q, 10 ; C (50 nouvelles), 4.
Non-reflexive me, te, with the gerund does not occur in any of the works.
Non-reflexive moi, toi, with the infinitive : P, 24 ; Q, 1 ; C, 17.
Non-reflexive moi, toi, with the gerund : P, 5 ; Q, 0 ; C, 1.
The resulting proportions of the employment of the tonic to
the atonic forms of the pronouns, with the infinitive and
gerund, are in P, 9 : 1 ; in Q, 1 : 1 ; in C, 2 : 1.
Tonic soi, referring to persons, was commonly used all
through the M. F. period and in the seventeenth century.2
The sole difference between our works that I have noted
here is that lui, elk, with prepositions, referring to the sub-
ject, are somewhat more common in Q than in P or C.
Examples : P, 19, ma dame le fist a soy venir; 159, Saintre
. . . . de soymesme fist responce; 92, 177, 201, 211, 222,
etc. j — Q, 9, la femme dist en soi mesmes ; 30, tettement que
tout de soy il sera dompte ; 19, 42, 43, 71, 105, etc. But,
according to modern usage: P, 371, adonc Vempereur les fist
tous devant luy venir ; 395, etc. ; — Q, 33, il n'enferaja rien
pour lui; 36, 44, 60, 82, etc.
The emphatic object-pronoun, repeating the atonic subject
form (je dis} moi), appears first in the fourteenth century.3
Not many cases occur in the fifteenth. I have found no
instances of this construction in P or Q, but in C Schmidt *
cites 12 examples.
1 Deschamps has no example of plural soi: Voll, 17.
'Haase, 31-32, cf. Voll, 18.
3Gessner, Zur Lehre vom franzosischen Pronomen (Berlin, 1873), i, 10.
4 Page 20.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 451
One example of the atonic accusative in place of a dative
is found in P : 185, mes&ire Enguerrant .... haussa sa hache
et le ferit tel coup. Two instances are found in C : 1 none
inQ.
The O. F. custom of omitting the subject pronouns was
still not uncommon in the M. F. period.2 An enumeration
of the cases in the first 100 pages of P and Q gave the
following results : —
p. Q.
EXPRESSED. QUITTED. EXPRESSED. OMITTED.
ie. . .
192
68
414
39
36
8
8
1
il, die
neuter iL....
nous
329
54
20
110
61
10
926
182
24
114
154
1
wus
149
90
161
23
Us, elks.
65
27
143
28
For the figures in C, see Schmidt, 21.
These figures give the following proportions of use to
omission : —
je,- P,3 :1; Q, 11 : 1 ; C, 5 : 1.
ta,- P, 4* :1; Q, 8:1; C, — .
M, die,— P, 3 : 1 ; Q, 8 : 1 ; C, 2£ : 1.
neuter il,— P, 1 — : 1 ; Q, 1 + : 1 ; C, 1:1
Nous,— P, 2 : 1 ; Q, ; C, 3 : 1.
wus,— P, 1«/10 : 1 ; Q. 7 : 1 ; C, 2 : 1.
Us, dies,— P, 2 : 1 ; Q, 5 : 1 ; C, 2 : 1.
It will be seen that in this respect P and C are nearly
alike, but that in Q the modern usage is much more
predominant.
Omission of the accusative object, with a dative, was
frequent in Old French, and subsisted till the seventeenth
century.3 Examples of this construction are numerous in
1 For C, see Schmidt, 21.
2 Darmesteter, § 184, 185 ; Hugnet, 344 ff.
8M.-L., § 379 ; Haase, 5-6 ; Ebeling, note loAuberec, 1. 655.
2
452 WILLIAM PIERCE 8HEPARD.
all three works.1 P, 116, puis fist faire le bracelet comme eUe
luy avoit commande et puis vint a elk et luy monstra; 14, 120,
191, 247, 384, etc. Q, 72, sa femme cognoist bien qu'il y a
quelque chose et se doubta de I'autre qui lui a dit; 54, etc.
The accusative pronoun, without a following dative,2 is
also omitted six times in P : 60, querez bon medecin de Pame,
ainsi que querriez pour la guarison du corps; 130, il envoya
querir mes chevaulx et mener avecques les siens; 209, 224,
345, 409, 220. No examples of this omission occur in Q,
and but two in C.2
Omission of the neuter accusative le 3 is common in each
of the works : P, 51, estre mocqu6 et farce, ainsi comme
d'autres out este; 150, plus suffisans queje ne suis; 384, qui
fut seur, nefut ilmie; 10, 20, 154, 189, 229, etc.;— Q, 11,
jefu bien mal de mon pere et suis encor; 132, il sera, dorena-
vant, plus subget qu'il ne fust oncques. For examples in C,
see Schmidt, 22.
The pleonastic subject pronoun, repeating a subject already
expressed, is common in P and C:4 P, 175, alors Saintre soy
inclinant le ires bel ruby U print; 65, les gens qui ne cherchent
monter trop hault, et sont contens de raison, ilz sont benoistz;
26, quiconques le fait aultrement, il est de bien faire lassez. I
have found no examples of this omission in Q.
In like manner, a preceding or following noun-object is
often repeated by a pronoun in P : 59, je vous commande que
les sermons et les services de saincte Eglise, quant vous povez}
les oyez; 73, dont a plusieurs, ce long parler .... leur
ennuyoit; 330, 337, 364. This is much less common in Q
and C ; the latter 6 has only two examples. For Q, note :
37, il a doubte que elle le die a ses amis, qu'il die mal d'eulx.
Here P is somewhat more modern than Q or C.
1 For C, see Schmidt, 21.
2Cf. Ebeling, loc. cit., Matzner, Syntax, n, 34.
8Cf. Tobler, VJB., i, 105. * Schmidt, 22. 5 Schmidt, 22.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 453
The interrogative pleonastic construction 1 (Jean, vient-41 ?)
was not firmly established till the seventeenth century. Two
examples of it are found in P : 368, Belle Cousine, vient
die? ; 407, lea oreUles, monseigneur de Saintrl, vous cornoient
ettes f. Four cases occur in C, none in Q.
The atonic subject pronoun is used as the antecedent of a
relative : P, 335, U en devroit tres griefoement estre pugny qui
lefait aultrement; 404, 407. This construction was common
in the whole Middle French period.2 Two examples are
found in C,3 none in Q.
Pronominal en, referring to persons, is used in all of the
works much more freely than at present, as was the case in
the older language.4 Q moreover has one example of en
referring to the second person : 49, je vous prie que vous me
dites si ette vous parla oncques puis de moy. Par ma foy, dist
la chamberiere, ette n'en dit que tout bien. Pleonastic en is
also found in all three works : P, 11, dont le peuple de Rome
en eut grant soulas etjoye; 16 ; 21 ; 44, tettement que de son
bien, de son honneur, et de tout son avancement elle en sera,
joyeuse; 63, 87, 199, 203, etc. It is very common in P.
Q, 125, il y en a aucunes d'elles. It is very rare in Q, and
C 5 has only two examples.
On the other hand, en is omitted, contrary to modern
usage, in P, 88, puis que ainsi est; 301, les Sarrazins estoient
en grant nombre de Turcz et infidettes, plus qu'on n'avoit veu
depuis le temps de Mahommet; 321, 404; — Q, 3, et va tant
a V environ de la dicte nasse qu'il trouve Ventrte ; 41, si ainsi
est. No cases for C are given by Schmidt.
Pronominal y, referring to persons,6 is found also : P, 77,
je croy, Saintre, que vous avez d voz recepveurs compte. Nostre
1 Cf. Darmesteter-Sudre, § 391. Voll, 23, shows that it is unknown to
Deschamps.
* Haase, V. and J., 22 ; Voll, 27, 29. s Schmidt, 22.
4 Haase, 23 ; Voll, 34. 5 Schmidt, 23. «Cf. Haase, 26-27.
454 WILLIAM PIERCE 8HEPARD.
maistre, dist il, c'est ma dame ma mere qui y a doncques compte;
396 ; — Q, 73, ainsi se gouverne la dame si sagement que, Dieu
mercy, son mary n'y trouvera ja fautie; 113. C has seven
instances.1 Pleonastic y is found : Q, 101, sans y penser a
nul mal; — twice in C, never in P.
In regard to the position on the object pronouns, C is
more faithful to the O. F. usage2 than P or Q, the latter
being again most modern. C 3 has but one example of the
modern order, to four in P and six in Q : P, 17, et ainsi me
le promettez; 24, ne vous le disoie je pas; 72, 396 ; — Q, 9,
vous me le direz; 50, qui vous les a baillez; 25, 53, 73, 130.
Q, has about twenty examples of the original order (the
proportion is thus 3 : 1), while in P the excess is very great.
Q has also five examples of the modern word-order with y
and en: 101, il y en a; 96, 111, 112, 115; — while there
are no instances at all in P or C.
THE POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS.
The tonic form of the possessives, with the definite article,
continued to be used adjectively through the sixteenth cen-
tury.4 The construction was not, however, much affected by
fifteenth century writers8 and is found in C alone,6 in the
formula la sienne merti. No examples occur in P or Q.
With the indefinite article, however, the tonic possessives
appear eight times in C,7 twice hi Q (ung sien amy; 73,
ung mien amy), but never in P. As this usage lingered late,
and is still permissible in familiar speech, it is evident that
no conclusion as to age can be drawn from this distinction.
The tonic possessive is not found joined to another pro-
1 Schmidt, 24. JM.-L., § 749. 8 Schmidt, 24-25.
4 Darmesteter, § 190 ; Huguet, 66 ff.
5 For Chartier, cf. Eder, 66 ; for Commines, Toennies, 58.
6 Schmidt, 25. 7 Schmidt, 24-25.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 455
noun in any of the works. The atonic form is however
joined to a demonstrative pronoun in C l and in P : 40, ceste
leur gloire; 111, a ce vostre commandement ; 148, 353; —
but never in Q,. Moreover, in P alone it is found twice
joined to a relative: 151, desquettes voz armes . ... la royne,
Ie8 dames et damoyselles . ... en ont tettejoye; 266, auquel
vostre voloirje obeyray. In Q, it appears united to an indefi-
nite pronoun, once (56, aulcun son amy), and there are five
similar examples in C,1 but none in P.
In the predicate, the tonic form without the article is
found six times in P : 15, celle qui plus desirez a estre sien ;
101, tellement que tous sont siens ; 190, 401, 402, 406. This
construction is not found in Q, but is frequent in C. With
the article, the tonic form appears in the predicate once each
in P and Q: P, 15, quelle contenance est la vostre; — Q, 73,
si n'est la vostre; — never in C. On the other hand, the
modern locution c'est d moi is found five times in C,2 never
in Q, and once (a rather doubtful case) in P : 76, nous
sommes tous a luy.
The method of replacing the possessive by de with a
personal pronoun3 is found in all three works : P, 55, le com-
mandement et garde de Vame et du corps de vous ; 76, pour
Pamour de luy; 152, 191, 200, 205, 319, 363, 397, 404.
In Q, it is not common ; I have noted only two examples :
26, pour V amour de moy ; 109, le pouvre corps de luy n'aura
james repoux.
The possessive pronouns were still commonly employed in
the fifteenth century with parts of the body, in cases where
the modern language prefers the article. Here P is much
more archaic than Q, or C, having fifteen examples, in the
first 200 pages, of such nouns with the possessive to five with
the article, whereas Q has two with the possessive to eight
1 Schmidt, 25. • Schmidt, 26. • Cf. Slimming, 493 ; Voll, 20.
456 WILLIAM PIERCE SHEPARD.
with the article, and in C only six instances with the posses-
sive are found. In fact P shows a great fondness for a
pleonastic possessive,1 not shared by the other works; it
employs the possessive with the dative of the personal
pronoun: 11, qui lui baitterent en sa main une branche de
lorier; 48, 73, 360, 387, 427; — with a relative & qui or
dont: 78, ma dame, ci qui ses yeulx ne cessoient de le regarder;
211, ce chevalier poullain, dont ses armes sont publiees ; 111,
138, 339 ; — or even with a efe-phrase containing a noun ;
204, quant Saintre appereeut de ma dame son signal; 23,
fay oy de vous toutes voz opinions; 384, Saintre, qui oyt2 de
ma dame sa tres cruelle responce. In Q such cases are much
rarer, being found only with lui or d qui: 33, on lui abrege
ses jours; 48, un jeune gallant, a qui elle tient son estat; 91,
95, 130. The pleonasm seems to be unknown to C.
THE DEMONSTRATIVE PRONOUNS.
The New French distinction between the itte- and iste-
forms of the demonstrative was well developed as early as
Joinville,3 and but few traces of the older usage appear
in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.4 In this case
another noteworthy difference is found to exist among the
three works. In P I have noted seven examples of pro-
nominal cest (all of them feminine) to four in C 5 and one in
Q : P, 210, celles et cestes qui seroient f aides seroyent tenues
pour parf aides; 217, et la raison est ceste; 223, cestes et
celles; 225 ; 260, le roy .... encores a ceste le requist; 362 ;
1 For all the following cases in O. F., cf. Tobler, VB., rr, 78 ff.
2 Possibly de, in these last sentences, is not really possessive. It may be
used as in the O. F. construction oyez de alcun; cf. Tobler, VS., I, 17 ff.
3Haase, V. and J., 31 ff.
4Huguet, 83 ff: ; Haase, 46 ff. 5 Schmidt, 27.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 457
385, savez vous autre chanson que ceste; — Q, 136, car fay
plus bette matiere de lefaire que cette-cy n'est.1
The form ctstui, not uncommon in early sixteenth century
writers, is found six times in P (five times as pronoun, once
as adjective) ; it occurs only once (adjective) in C and never
in Q: P, IQ^famoye tant cestuy queje ne pourrois jamais nul
aultre tant soit peu amer ; 128, sur cestuy (neuter); 175,
vrayment cestuy est bien la fleur de tous les jeunes gentilz
hommes ; 188; 191; 63, or advise, man amy, de cestuy
Seneque. It will be seen that P has in all twelve examples
of pronominal isfe-forms, to four in C and one in Q. In
this respect, P is more archaic than Deschamps2 or even
Joinville ; 3 other writers however, like Kustebuef 4 and
Chartier,5 employ the iste-forms more frequently.
Another archaic trait in P is the constant use of the ille-
forms as adjectives. I have counted in P more than eighty
examples of adjectival celui, etc., while Q contains only
fourteen and C6 eighteen: P, 6, celuy jouvencel; 10, cettes
vefves; 17, pour cette fois ; 119, d icelle feste ; 210, iceluy
prix, etc. ; — Q, 3, celuy poisson ; 5, celles quinze joyes ; 41,
cette avarice ; 3, icelles fosses ; 56, ycette robe; etc. In this
respect P shows about the same syntactical relations as
Deschamps,7 while Q, and C agree substantially with
Rabelais.8
The t#e-forms are frequently employed in P absolutely, in
all positions in the sentence, without being accompanied by
ci or Id. This usage, rare in the sixteenth century 9 and in
Commines,10 is also rare in Q and C. In Q the forms with
1 Schmidt' s "demonstrativum" acquest (C, I, 176) is not a pronoun, but
the substantive acquit, as the context clearly shows.
2 Bode, 34. 8 Haase, V. and J. , 31.
4 Schumacher, Zur Syntax Rustebuefs (Kiel, 1881), p. 18.
5Eder, 72. • Schmidt, 28. 7 Bode, 36.
"Huguet, 94 ft. 9Cf. Huguet, 104. 10Toennies, 60.
458 WILLIAM PIERCE SHEPARD.
i- are the only ones used absolutely : 2, les seigneurs d'icettes
vouloient tollir franchise ct leurs subjetz ; 7,faire ballades, icettes
chanter; 33, 58, 135 (5 examples in all). Schmidt cites no
examples of this construction in C j I have however found
the following : 1, 24,je seroye celuy; 1, 138, vint ceste matiere
a la congnoissance du maistre et de la maistresse des deux
amans, et d'iceulx s'espandit et saillit en audience du pere et
de la mere de Katherine. In P, however, I have noted ten
examples of celui and three oficellui: 51, lors cette lui dit;
210; 225; 253; 25, devez vous cettes tant servir ; 38, je
vous prie que soyez de ceulx; 71; 166; 264; 119, par
Pespace d'un an, se dedans icelluy vous ne trouvez chevalier;
187; 365.
The indefinite use of the absolute demonstratives (comme
celui qui, il n'y a pas celui qui) * is found in all the works,
very frequently in P and C,2 less often in Q, ; P, 80, en la
cour n'avoit celluy ne celle qui ne le jugeast une fois estre
homme de bien; 98, 141, 143, 167, 197, etc.; 14, quant il
oy parler de dame par amours, comme celui qui oncques ne
I'avoit empense, les yeulx lui lermoyent; 20, 23, 189, 347,
etc. ; — Q, 130, et n'y a celle qui ne die de tres bonnes raisons;
85, sow fih vouldra prendre le gouvernement de soy ....
comme celui a qui sa mort tarde (only two examples).
The pronoun celui could be omitted in Old French before
de, and even in the seventeenth century.3 This omission is
not uncommon in P and Q, : P, 95, pour acquerir la grace
de Dieu et puis de toutes gens; 109, a ce pend largement de
vostre honneur et ceulx qui aultrement le font ; Q, 6, con-
siderons la repugnance qui est en leur entendement et le mien et
de plusieurs autres, etc. Schmidt cites no examples from C,
but several are to be found : 1, 114, elle compta tout au long
1 Cf. Darmesteter-Sudre, § 406, m ; Haase, § 26.
s Schmidt, 28.
8Tobler, VS., I, 111 ; Haase, 52; Stimming, 494; Huguet, 375.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 459
la fasson et maniers de sa maladie, com/me de son dormir, de
boire et de manger.
P has also several examples of the demonstrative adjective
ce employed with the force of the article, as in O. F. : * 102,
pour plus de familiarite, vous en porterez une a ceste feste de
Noel; 112 ; 246 ; 390, s'ilfaitfroit, ilz s'en vont a ces poiles
d'Allemagne, se rigottent aveeques ces fillettes tout I'yver, etc.
This usage persisted till the seventeenth century.2
Neutre ce, in the fifteenth century, was still commonly
employed as subject or object without a following relative.3
Examples are found on almost every page, nor does there
seem to be any perceptible difference among the three works
in this respect. On the other hand, the accented forms ceci,
cela, occur but sparingly in P and Q, more commonly in C.
To be precise, P contains eight examples of these forms, Q
six, while C4 has twenty-two, a difference hardly due to
chance : P, 14, que sera cecy ; 402, cela, dist damp Abbez, et
je k vous prometz; 14, 69, 72, 85, 388, 396;— Q, 39, s'il
n'y avoit que cela; 55, qu'est ce cy ; 73, 74, 101, 123.
THE EELATIVE PRONOUNS.
The use of absolute qui, without an antecedent, was very
widely spread in Old and Middle French and asserted itself
still in the seventeenth century.5 This qui is common in all
three works, being especially frequent in clauses with a con-
ditional value. I have observed no differences in respect to
this usage : P, 384, qui bien y querroit, en vous pen s'en
trouveroit; 396, qui fut seur, ne fut il mye ; etc.; — Q, 27,
qui doit venir de vos commeres aujourd'huy, il fault penser
qu'elles soyent bien ayses, etc.
1 Darmesteter-Sudre, § 409. 2 Haase, 44.
3Darmesteter-Sudre, §§ 405-408. * Schmidt, 29.
6M.-L., §629; Haase, 66 ff.
3
460 WILLIAM PIERCE SHEPARD.
I have found no case of the O. F. use of qui as object.1
Of qui, referring to things, only the following doubtful
example is found : P, 326, la partie a qui Dieu donnera du
pire. Here partie contains a personal idea.
Que, as a personal subject form, occurs hi each, most
frequently in C, which has ten examples.2 The instances in
P, three in all, are rather uncertain : 44, combien n'en ouy
jamais parler de nulle que (possibly the conjunction) tettefut;
140, le matin ensuivant .... que (very likely the relative
adverb) le terme estoit de partir ; 259, peu de terns avant que
les Venissiens I'eussent conquis, que (possibly the modal con-
junction, = de fagon que) puis en prison lefirenl mourir. Q,
has one undoubted case : 14, par Dieu que le monde fist.
The difference between C and P-Q is noteworthy, but
examples of this use of que are still frequent in Jehan de
Paris and Rabelais.3
Traces of the old neuter nominative que 4 also occur : P,
157, voulez que je par/ace ce que en son veu contient; 217,
adviengne de vous ce que ci Dieu plaira; 329; 374; — Q,
28, se favoye ou X ou XII enfans, que ja ne sera, si Dieu
plaist; 82, parler de tout ce que lui est advenu. Six examples
inC.
When referring to a whole clause, the modern ce qui, ce
que, became the fixed usage only in the sixteenth century.5
Of the subject forms, C6 has only one example of ce qui in
the first 50 nouvelles, P three (182, 399, 413), Q none.
For the object forms, the relations are reversed. P contains
twelve examples of ce que to four of que (52, 63, 134, 309),
while C 6 has fifteen of ce que to one of que. In Q examples
of either form are lacking.
1 Darmesteter-Sudre, § 410. 2 Schmidt, 30.
3Huguet, 117. 4M.-L., § 614 ; Voll, 37.
6M.-L., § 619 ; Haase, Gamier, 21. 6 Schmidt, 31.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 461
Quoi, referring to a definite antecedent,1 occurs twice in
P : 1 83, aultres diabolicques operations de mal engin, pour
quoy (plural) Pung contre Paultre ne puissent offendre tie
deffendre; 301, pour le grant desbatement en quoy die est; —
twice in Q : 119, U a ung ires mauvais desboit, pour cause
du fast en quoy il est ; 2 127, puis prend son coutel de quoy il
tranche ; — five times in C.3 Referring to indefinite chose, it
is found once in P (375), once in Q (54), once in C.3
With the prepositions de, par, and pour, quoi forms con-
junctions,4 which are more common in P and Q than in C.
Thus we find de quoi: P. 19, 375 ; Q, 54, 74 ; — par quoi:
P, 130, 149, 154, 211, 248; Q, 56, 125 ;— ; pour quoi
(= c'est pourquoij : P, 92, 334 ; Q, 45. C has but one
example each of par quoi and pour quoi. It will be seen
that P has nine instances of indefinite quoi with prepositions,
to five in Q and two in C.
Lequel, the frequent employment of which was a marked
feature of M. F. syntax,5 is very common in each. The only
difference in usage which I have noted is that adjectival
lequel, very common in P and C, occurs only four times in
Q: 19, 19, 42, 86.
The relative adverb que is found in P, as in O. F.,
extensively employed to express various relations where
N. F. prefers a relative with a preposition : 6 72, chausses
qui seront toutes brodees de couleur et devise que la bourse est ;
76; 87, au plus matin qu'il fut leve ; 91, 106, 173, 194,
242, 244, etc. Q and C 7 have each only two examples of
this construction : Q, 42, et se met en lieu que, s'il va riens
1M.-L., § 614 ; Darmesteter-Sudre, § 411 ; Voll, 47.
2 Sentence omitted in the editio princeps.
'Schmidt, 32. 4Cf. Tobler, VS., i, 160 ff.
5M.-L., §621; Darmesteter-Sudre, §412.
6M.-L., §628; Tobler, VS., i, 123; Darmesteter-Sudre, §415.
7 Schmidt, 33.
462 WILLIAM PIEECE SHEPARD.
en la meson, il le sqaura bien; 91, en la liberte que sont leg
autres.
The relative adverb dont,1 in its original local function, is
common in P and C, less so in Q, which has only three
examples: P, 28, regarde dont tu viens et oti tu vas ; 78,
demanda & Vescuyer dont il venoit ; 302, et la est le mont de
Liban, dont sault le fleuve de Jourdain ; 66, 88, 102, 111,
182, etc. ; — Q, 31, et ne se esmoient point dont il vient; 40,
89. For examples in C, see Schmidt, 34.
Dont, in causal function,1 is extremely frequent in P. It
becomes often a mere conjunction, binding two sentences
together in a loose way, the causal connection being indi-
cated by par ce or par ainsi following. This usage is one
of the most characteristic features of P's style and is much
less frequent in Q and C. Examples : P, 15, le petit Saintre,
qui n'avoit senty ne gouste des amoureux desirs nullement, dont
par ce avoit perdu contenance, .... sans mot parler fut
longuement ; 154, et sur ce prent congie. Dont, pour priere
nuUe, Saintre ne voult demourer de disner ; 215, et en ce
temps ne tarda guieres que la nouvelle du trespas de son pere
luy vint. Dont par ainsi ilfut seigneur de Saintre; 268, 36,
122, 172, 187, 259, etc.; — Q,, 11, je ne vouloie que vous ;
dont je fu bien mal de Monseigneur mon pere, et suis encor,
dont je me doy bien hair ; 14, il loue Dieu en son courage,
dont il lui donna ung si riche joyau comme die est; 15, 19,
23, 61, 74.
The relative adverb oil, till the seventeenth century, could
refer to persons.2 C has five examples of this construction,3
Q has two : 112, elle se remarie a ung aultre, oii elle prent
son plesir ; 130. No cases are found in P. On the other
1Cf. Tobler, VS., I, 160, in, 38 ff. The usage is likewise very frequent
in Deschamps, cf. Voll, 45.
2 Darmesteter-Sudre, § 414 ; Haase, 81.
3 Schmidt, 34 ; cf. also Voll, 48.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 463
hand, neuter oil, without an antecedent and referring to a
whole clause, occurs only in P : 204, lors commencerent Pung
a Faulire festoyer, oil furent mains baisiers donnes et mains
rendus ; 322, en laquelle retoumer ne povoient, se la royne ne
domiist avecques le roy, oh ilz s'employerent toutesfois que au
roy plaisoit. No similar cases are found in Q, or C.
THE INTERROGATIVE PRONOUNS.
Of the neuter nominative qui,1 but one example is found
in P : 337, Saintre, qui vous a esmeu de ceste emprinse faire
sans mon congie ? There is one similar example in C,2 but
none in Q. The periphrases qu'est-ce qui and qu'est-ce que
are lacking in all three works.
Qui, subject, occurs once in P with the force of modern
quel:3 142, qui est le cueur de femme qui se porroit tenir de
plorer. Also quel is used once by P for modern lequel:
402, mais d'une chose vous prie, que pour ma premiere requeste
ne m'esconduisiez. Et quette, dist damp Abbez.
In respect to the employment of the neuter forms in
indirect questions, C for the first time in this investigation,
shows itself as the most archaic of the three.4 Namely, P
contains two examples of the neuter nominative ce qui (230,
420), Q six (21, 34, 45, 82, 97, 135), but neither has an
example of qui. C 5 has twelve examples of ce qui to six
of qui. In respect to the accusative forms, P contains 24
examples of que to 49 of ce que; Q, 32 of que to 41 of ce
que ; but C,5 53 of que to 29 of ce que.
Neuter quelle chose (= que, ce que) is found in P, 32, 69,
etc., and in C : 6 not in Q. But this is probably fortuitous.
'M.-L., § 515, Darmesteter, § 167. 8 Schmidt, 35.
SM.-L., §517; Darmesteter-Sudre, §418. *Haase, V. undJ., 54.
6 In nouvdles XI-L ; Schmidt, 36. 6 Schmidt, 36.
464 WILLIAM PIERCE SHEPARD.
A distinctive feature of Q's syntax is the use of the neuter
atonic form que in concessive phrases : l 44, que qu'en soit ;
54 ; 91 ; 98, que que nul die. Que que and quoi que were
used interchangeably in Old French,2 but I have been unable
to find examples of the former later than the fourteenth
century. There are no traces of que que in P or C.
THE INDEFINITE PRONOUNS.
Aucun, substantive and adjective, was still positive in
meaning in the fifteenth century.3 Numerous examples
are found in each of these works. P has, moreover, two
instances of aucun with ne, expressing the idea " no one,"
as in New French : 177, mais pour priere nutte, auoun n'y
voulut demourer; 411, le seigneur de Saintre ordonna a ses
gens de bien garder Phuys que aucun n'entrast. Q and C are
ignorant of this usage. Furthermore, C has seven examples
of substantive aucun, always in the plural, with the article,4
a construction unknown to P and Q. lyaucuhs, with parti-
tive de, is peculiar toP: 391, 419.
The modern positive form, quelqu'un, is found only in C,5
which contains three examples.
Aucun as adjective has yielded much more ground to
quelque in C than in P or Q. In P, I have counted only
ten examples of purely indefinite quelque: 54, 106, 112,
112, 121, 146, 148, 325; and in Q four: 45, 78, 81, 94.
Aueun, on the other hand, is very frequent in both. C,6 on
the contrary, in nouvelles XI-L, has 16 examples of quelque
to 38 of aucun.
JIn the editio princeps, these phrases are either omitted or changed to
quoi que.
2 Cf. Johannssen, Der Ausdruck des Concessiwerhaltnisses im AUfranzosischen
(Kiel, 1884), 18 ff ; also Tobler, VB., m, 3-4.
"Eder, 85-86. * Also common in Chartier : Eder, 19 ; Schmidt, 37.
8 Schmidt, 37. 6 Schmidt, 37.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 465
Peculiar to P is the adverbial use of aucun in the locution
aucun peu: 192, messire Enguerrant qui pour la dotteur de
sa main sefaisoit aucun peu habitter ; 251, aucun peu blesse;
381, aucun peu repousses. Similarly the positive adverb
aucunement is very common in P (79, 156, 342, etc.), while
only one example has been observed in Q (19), and none
inC.
Chacun, adjective, is employed in about equal numbers in
each of the works. Employed as a substantive with the
indefinite article,1 it occurs twice in P : 206, ains a ung
chasoun plus doulx et agreable se monstroit tous les jours ;
317, le roy et la royne, messeigneurs, les dames et damoiselks
et ung chascun; — once in Q: 85, comme ung chascun doit
faire ; — and once in C.2
Nul, positive, is frequent in each of the works. In P,
however, negative nul is employed without the particle ne :
56, nul fust plaisant a Dieu; 174, nul au monde pourroit
mieulx faire; 212 ; etc. This use of nul? with a complete
negative force, does not occur in Q or C.
The old dative form nullui is also found in P, but not in
the other works. It is employed not only as object of a
preposition : 35, homme de tette condition ne peult estre de
nutty ayme (cf. 48, 150, 182), but also as the object or predi-
cate of verbs : 94, sans desservir nutty ; 385, est il nutty, qui
vous ay dit le contraire; 429. The form is found as late as
Rabelais, the Heptameron, and Marot.4 Contrariwise, the
synonymous nesun occurs in C,5 but not in P or Q.
Rien, in its original signification as a positive feminine
substantive, occurs three times in C,5 but never in P or Q.
Chose, as an indefinite pronoun, is about equally numerous
in all three works. In C, however, it is fully established as
1 A construction common in the sixteenth century : Darmesteter, § 173.
*n, p. 102. 8 Still found in Kabelais : Huguet, 160.
*Huguet, 147-48. • Schmidt, 39.
466 WILLIAM PIERCE SHEPARD.
a neuter,1 while in P and Q, it retains its original gender, as
is shown in Q, 72, il ne croirroit james chouse qui lui fust
dite. Furthermore, the modern quelque chose is found but
once in P (135), twice in Q (56, 72), while it is frequent
in C.1
The numeral un appears as an indefinite (= quelqu'un), as
in Old French, in P : 100, puis tout secrettement par ung de
sa chambre me fist donner cent LX escuz ; 125, 154, 410. C
has three examples of this usage,1 but Q, has none. It recurs,
however, commonly in Commines and in early sixteenth cent-
ury writers.2
Autrui, in its original dative function,3 without a prepo-
sition, is found twice in P : 55, sy ne convoiteras point Vau-
truy ;4 133, vous taillez larges courroyes d'autruy cuir. In
Q, the word occurs but once, in its modern function, nor are
any examples of the original usage found in C.5
The modern la plupart is common in C,5 but is not found
in P or Q, which replace it in general by la plus grant partie :
P, 167, 301; Q, 112, etc. P has also one example of the
old form, les plusieurs : 69, dont ne sceivent les plusieurs quelle
chose ilz doivent prendre.
Adjectival quant 6 (= combien de) is found eight times in
C,7 never in P. In Q it occurs only in the locution quant
que (= ce que) : 73, fen donne au deable tout quant que il en
a dessoubz mes mains; 75, 89, 109, 121, 132. C7 has like-
wise one example of adjectival tant,8 not found in P or Q.
Autel9 is also peculiar to C.
Trestout9 occurs in C and P (4, 161, etc.), never in Q.
Eeaucoup, which appeared first in the fourteenth century,10
1 Schmidt, 39. 2 Stimming, 496 ; Huguet, 155.
3Cf. Haase, V. und J., 37.
* This locution occurs in sixteenth century writers : Darmesteter, § 172.
6 Schmidt, 40. "Diez, 828. 'Schmidt, 40.
8Diez, 828. 9 Schmidt, 41. 10C£. Gessner, op. tit., n, 28.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 467
is very frequent in C, but is found only twice in P (50, 91),
and never in Q.1 In both the latter works, it is replaced
by adverbial moult or adjectival maint.
The extended use of quelconque is peculiar to P, which em-
ploys it as an indefinite adjective (= n'importe quef) or as a
concessive (= quelque) : 2 200, a roy, ne ci royne, ne ct quelconques
autres; 369, luy deffend que & quelconques personnes n'en dye
riens; 83, de quelconques menasses, parolles rigoureuses, que
devant mes femmes ne ailleurs je vous dye; 267, pour quel-
conque excusation que f aye f aide; 286 ; 374.
Concessive qulconque, common in the sixteenth century,3
is found only once, in Q : 22, et se tiennent bien aises, qui-
conques ait la paine de le querir.
THE VERB.
A. Class and Voice.
The following list shows the chief differences in the con-
struction and regimen of verbs, in the three works. Variations
from N. F. usage have alone been noted.4
(a) Impersonal verbs, no longer in use :
affair, P, 1 (412) ; Q, 0 ; C, 1.
ckcdoir, P, 1 (82); Q, 3 (32, 62, 131); C, 2.
doidoir, P, 1 (60); Q, 1 (86) ; C, 0 ; also reflexive, P, 238 ; Q, 134.
eseheoir, mescheoir, only in C.
(6) Transitive or intransitive verbs, with changed con-
struction in N. F.
aceroistre qc., P, 5 (48, 189, 200, 241, 325); Q, 1 (82); C, 1.
1 In the editio princeps it often replaces maint or moult of the MSS.
2 For similar constructions in O. F., cf. Johannssen, op. cit., 28 ff, who
cites no examples later than the fourteenth century.
8Huguet, 155.
4 The figures indicate the number of examples in each work ; those in
parentheses, the page. For the examples in C, cf. Schmidt, 43—45. Cf.
similar lists given by Bode, 46 ff. ; Eder, 107 ff. ; Huguet, 164 ff.
468 WILLIAM PIERCE SHEPARD.
aider d qu., P, 7 (45, 82, 93, 111, 217, 234, 387) ; Q, 3 (121, 132, 132) ; C, 0.
approcher qu., P, 1 (330); Q, 0 ; C, 3 ; more commonly in P and Q s'ap-
procherdequ. (P, 175, 261, etc.; Q, 53, 63).
changer qc., P, 5 (172, s'en alia en sa loge pour changer destrier ; 173, 209,
216,318); Q, 0; C, 0.
consentir qc., P, 4 (36, 226, 248, 258); Q, 1 (132); C, 1.
deviser qc.,1 P, 5 (80, 126, 145, 229, 397) ; Q, 1 (55); C, 0.
douter qc.* P, 5 (22, doubtant, le re/uz; 114, 122, 125, 216) ; Q, 0 ; C, 0.
desmarcher qu., P, 2 (261, 376); Q, 0 ; C, 0.
esloigner qc.,s P, 0 ; Q, 0 ; C, 4.
ensuivre1 qu., qc., P, 5 (8, 27, 49, 57, 108); Q, 0 ; C, 0.
esjo'ir qc., P, 1 (101, les bonnes cheres esjoument, lient et emprisonnent les
cueurs) ; Q, 0 ; C, 0.
hucher qu. , P, 0 ; Q, 0 ; C, 3.
obe'ir qu., P5, 3 (37, les sept dons du sainct esperit, vous devez croire et obeyr ;
98, 331); Q, 0 (but obeir d, 111); C, 0.
partir qc., P, 3 (67, lui et ses biens seront partis; 211, il vous partira de
I'honneur; 252); Q, 0 ; C, 0.
prier dqu., P, 16 (50, 73, 175, 182, etc.); Q, 2 (75, 124).
prier qu. , P, 7 ; Q, 7 ; Schmidt gives no examples of prier in either con-
struction.
sourdre qu., P, 1 (231, ma dame, avec les autres dames, me vindrent sourdre) ;
Q, 0; 0,1.
supplier d qu., P, 5 (123, 248, 345, 372, 428); Q, 0 ; C, 0.
(c) Reflexive verbs no longer used as such :
s' apparoistre, P, 0 ; Q, 0 ; C, 2.
s'arriver, personal, P, 1 (417, quant oncques s'estoient Id arrivez) ; Q, 0; C, 0.
se cesser, P, 1 (229); Q, 0 ; C, 1.
se commences, P, 3 (4, 54, 124); Q, 0 ; C, 0.
se consentir, P, 2 (349, 387); Q, 0 ; C, 0.
se continuer, P, 0 ; Q, 0 ; C, 2.
s'en courir, P, 0 ; Q, 0 ; C, 2.
se desjeuner, P, 1 (303); Q, 0 ; C, 0.
se disner, P, 0 ; Q, 0 ; 0,1.
se dormir, P, 1 (321); Q, 0 ; C, 1.
se farcer, P, 1 (320); Q, 0 ; C, 2.
sefeindre, P. 0 ; Q, 0 ; C, 2.
se loger, P, 2 (145, 312); Q, 0 (always neuter) ; C, 3.
se partir, P, 10 (18, 93, 150, etc.); Q, 2 (71, 112); C, 5.
1 With force of s'entretenir de qc. 2 1. e., craindre.
8 7. e., s'eloigner de qc. * Also found with the form ensieuvir.
6 Has also obeir d, 119.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 469
sc penser, P, 5 (203, 231, 308, 360, 387); Q, 1 (71); C, 2; reflexive
a'appenser is frequent in P (12, 24, 79, etc.), but has not been noted in
QorC.
se prendre garde, P, 0 ; Q, 0 ; C, 2.
se revenir, P, 0 ; Q, 1 (82); C, 0.
se swirdre, P, 0 ; Q, 0 ; C, 2.
se tempester, P, 0 ; Q, 1 ( 56) ; C, 0.
Jenvenir, P, 0; Q, 4 (124, 128, 130, 131); C, 6.
A marked feature of O. F. syntax is the faculty of omit-
ting the reflexive pronoun with the infinitive, gerund and
participle,1 a trait still retained in N. F. after the verb faire.
In P this omission is very common : et satis dormir les con-
vint lever; 37; 87; 151; 160; 186, line laissoit approucher
de luy ; 193, et s'en alter ent en leurs loges desarmer et reposer;
245, qui s'en vont a saint Jacques, tres grandement louant du
roy ; 309 ; 348, il s'en alia lover au dressouer; 379, ilz estoi-
ent presque pasmez; 384, 396, etc. This omission occurs
even with I'un Vautre: 148, alors luy et moy, tenant I'un
I'autre par la main, nous agenouillasmes ; 176, messire En-
guerrant et Saintr6 vouldrent Vung Vautre convoy er ; 325.
This trait is rare in Q ; I have noted only three examples :
18, 27, 114. In C it has not been noticed by Schmidt, nor
have I discovered any examples.2
The reflexive construction, for the passive,3 is more ex-
tended in P than in N. F., being used with a personal sub-
ject : 133, nous devons nous ayder a un teljeune escuyer; en
verit^ il se doibt bien aymer. Note further 124, les joustes
qui se vouloient commencer. Similar examples are not found
in Q or C.
The impersonal form of the passive voice, replacing an
active form with on or a personal subject, is frequent in P,
less common in Q and C. The construction was found, how-
1 M.-L., § 381 ; Haase, § 61. For examples in Deschamps, see Voll, 26.
2 Commines agrees with Q ; the trait is very rare : cf. Stimming, 493.
SM.-L., §382.
470 WILLIAM PIEECE SHEPARD.
ever, as late as the seventeenth century.1 P, 22, il luy doibt
estre pardonne; 318, ja n'y seroit chante ne dances f aides ;
414, accuse des villainies et mocqueries dont a este cy devant
parU; — Q, 17, comme dit est; 35, le gallant went ainsi comme
ordonne lui est par Jehane; 56, lui a este dit d'aulcun
son amy.
Of the various periphrases with the gerund2 our works
show the following: — Aller -f- gerund: P, 261, incontinent
tira son espee, de laquelle a deux mains se va couvrant; Q, 2,
et pource s'en allerent conquerant pays ; 15, la dame va criant
par la meson; — C,3 one example. Estre -j- gerund : P, 58,
je ne suis point souvenant avoir leu; 359, 409, 416; — Q,
32, elles sont tousjours jouans et saillans; 118; — C,2 four
examples.
The use of faire as verbum vicarium 4 is about equally
common in P and Q. The O. F. usage is fully preserved
in both : P, 65, la goulle tue plus de gens que les cousteaulx
ne/ont; 100 ; 141 ; 203 ; 222, quant ma dame le veit, si lui
sembla plus bel que oncques n' avoit faict ; — Q, 12; 22, je me
merveille bien, si font mes commeres ; 48, 68, 71, etc. This
construction is not mentioned by Schmidt, but it appears in
C frequently enough.
Examples of the employment of estre to form the com-
pound tenses of the modal auxiliaries when a reflexive
infinitive follows,5 appear in each work : P, 88, puis que
ainsi est, que de nulle de nous ne vous estes tant voulu far ;
386, ma tres redoubtee dame, qui tant s'est voulu incliner que
de prendre la patience avec son pauvre moynne; — Q, 126, le
meschant ne s'est peu tenir aujourd'hui de venir deux foix.6
C has two examples with savoir, one with pouvoir.
1Haase, § 58. 2M.-L., §312-317. 3 Schmidt, 66.
*Diez, 1068, 1084. 8M.-L., § 296 ; Tobler, VS., n, 37.
6Cf. also Q, 115 : en la nasse oil Us estoient cuide entrer.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 471
In Cl three examples of the use of avoir to form the
compound tenses of verbs of motion, alter, entrer, arriver,
occur. No such cases are found in P or Q.
B. Person and Number.
In general, P keeps almost wholly to the O. F. usage,
according to which the verb agrees with the subject nearest
to it, and which permitted constructions ad sensum more
freely than is allowed in N. F. With a preceding multiple
subject, the verb is frequently in the singular : 24, amours
d'enfance et ignorance y ouvroit ; 25, quel bien, quel prouffit,
quel honneur .... vous en peult advenir ; 207, leur amour et
estat dura; 341, 356, etc. A long multiple subject, consist-
ing of proper names, is frequently summed up by chascun;
in this case the verb agrees with the latter:2 112, monseig-
neur, ma dame et messeigneurs mes beaulx onoles de Berry et
Bourgongne et autres seigneurs et dames de nostre sang,
chascun vous aydera; 291, des grants regrets que le roy et
la royne, messeigneurs, dames et damoyselles et chascun fait
d'eulx; 142, mesdits seigneurs, qui tres bonnes parolles chascun
luy dist. On the other hand, when chascun is followed by
partitive de with a plural noun, the verb is often plural :
234, chascun des seigneurs dues leur baillerent leurs lances.
None of these licenses is found in Q. In C, Schmidt3
cites five examples of a singular verb following a multiple
subject, but in each case the subject nouns are nearly synony-
mous, a construction still permissible.4
When the verb precedes a multiple subject, it is regularly
singular in P, as in O. F. : 5 44, si veuk nature, droit et
raison; 112, la ou estoit nostre Dame et son enfant; 353, Id
1 Schmidt, 67.
2M.-L., § 343-44 ; Tobler, VS., I, 230 ff.; Miitzner, 380.
8 Page 47. 4Matzoer, 380. 5Haase, V. und J., 79.
472 WILLIAM PIERCE 8HEPAKD.
fut le vin et les espices apareilles; 354, ou estoit le dressouer et
les tables mises ; 357, ittec fut damp Abbez et les prieurs
remercier ma dame. Q has again no example of this
construction, and C1 has but two. The present rule is
predominant in both.
With a collective noun as subject, P has frequently a
plural verb, as in O. F.2 So always with la phis grant
partie: 167, la plus grant partie prient Dieu qu'il luy feust
en ayde; 301, 302. Also with other collectives : 308, le
grant trait des canons et coulevrines .... grandement les
endommageoient ; 311, la grant bataille des Chrestiens virent
la derniere bataille des Turcs; 311, I'arriere-gardefrapperent
au travers ; 349, dont toute la compaignie jacoit ce qu'ilz
fussent bien desjeunez, si en furent ilz tres joyeulx. Q, has a
single example with la plus grant partie: 112, il y en a la
plus grant partie qui ne se povent partir de jouxte leurs femmes.
C3 has two examples of the syllepsis compaignie — ilz, other-
wise both follow the modern rule.
Constructions ad sensum are also frequent in P. Thus
when a prepositional phrase denoting accompaniment is
joined to the subject,4 the verb is in the plural : 138, vostre
dueil, allie du mien, ont tant assailly et combatu mon cueur ;
140, Saintre, atout sa compaignie, vindrent prendre congie
du roy ; 231, ma dame, avec les autres dames, me vindrent
sourdre. A further peculiarity of P's syntax is the fact that
with I'un a I'autre, etc., the verb is always plural, no matter
whether the subject precedes or follows: 185, Cung contre
I'autre desmarcherent et combatirent; 185, lors commencerent
Vung sur VauUre a ferir; 193, lors prindrent congie Fung
de VauUre; 204, lors commencerent Pung a I'auttre festoyer ;
1 Schmidt, 47. In Commines, however, the singular is frequent. Cf.
Stimming, 195.
2Diez, 981 ; Haase, V. undJ., 79. 3 Schmidt, 45.
4M.-L., §347; Haase, 159.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 473
232 ; 394, lore Fung devant Paultre furent, etc. None of
these peculiar constructions is found in Q, or C. With
collectives P's usage agrees with that of Chartier.1
In relative sentences, after un de -|- a plural noun, the
verb is regularly in the singular2 in Q and C.3 Q, 89, une
des grans douleurs qui soit sur terre; 130, 131. No ex-
amples occur in P.
Attraction of the relative to the subject of the preceding
clause4 is found in P : 285, moy qui suis celuy qui tant vous
ay aymee ; — Q, 65, si je fusse femme qui me gouvernasse
mauvesement. C5 has three similar examples. A more vio-
lent attraction occurs in P : 325, je vueil estre de tous qui cy
sommes le maindre.
A different violation of the modern rule for agreement in
a relative clause occurs in P : 6 24, icy n'a que vous et moy
qui nous peust ouyr; 52, cy n'a que vous et moy qui nous
puisse ouyr. No such cases are found in Q or C.
Agreement with the logical subject in impersonal construc-
tions,7 where N. F. prefers the singular, is found frequently
in P and C, never in Q : P, 74, et par ainsi ne luy restoient
plus que deux escuz; 227, ilz ne sont hommes nulz qui mieulx
le sceussent faire; 341, car sont plus de seize ans que nous
n'y fusmes; 377, 389, 403, 428. For examples in C, see
Schmidt, 47.
C. The Tenses.
The distinctions now recognized in the employment of the
past tenses were by no means fixed in the fifteenth century.
1Eder, 119. For Commines' usage, cf. Slimming, 194. Tobler, VB.,
I, 231, cites similar cases of agreement with Pun vers Pautre from O. F. I
have been unable to discover any later examples.
J As in O. F. Cf. Tobler, KB., i, 239. s Schmidt, 46.
4 Cf . Haase, Zwr Syntax Robert Garniers, 39.
6 Schmidt, 46. 8 Darmesteter-Sudre, §460.
7 This construction is the rule in Froissart. Cf. IKiese, Recherches sur
F usage syntaxique de Froissart, Halle, 1880, p. 17.
474 WILLIAM PIEECE SHEPARD.
As, however, no noticeable differences can be established in
the usage of the three works which concern us here, I have
thought it useless to accumulate examples of the confusion
observable. I may notice briefly the fact that in P and C l
a change in tense from past to historical present or vice versa,
in the same sentence, occurs more frequently than in Q.
D. The Moods.
In independent clauses of wish or command, the subjunc-
tive is used, as in O. F.,2 without introductory que: P, 29,
39, 60, 66, 72 ; 75, Dieu doint bonne vie a ma dame; 82,
89, 119, 137, 138, etc.; — Q, 8, or avant,fait il, y aille pour
cestefois; 27, 28, 51, 106, 130. The modern construction
with que occurs also, somewhat more frequently in P than in
Q : P, 62, que les hommes de sang s'esloingnent de moy ; 86,
100, 132, 141, etc.; Q, 38, que la matte boce s'y puisse
ferir; 128.
Likewise the subjunctive appears in independent (para-
tactic) concessive sentences : 3 P, 287, vous priant tous que
ehascun, perte ou gaingne, que soyez honor ablement ; — Q, 21,
pour ce en convient avoir, en ait ou non; 106, et ira} face
pluye ou gresle ; 109.
Peculiar to P and Q is the use of the paratactic conces-
sive subjunctive with tant:* P, 34, etne peult la noblesse, tant
soit elle grande ne puissant, surmonter la mort; 225, 398,
428 ; — Q,, 9, il n'avoit personne, tant fust elle de petit estat,
qui fust si mal abittee comme je estoye ; 25, 65, 80. Similar
examples do not apparently occur in C, though they are
found as late as the seventeenth century.5
In substantive subject clauses the employment of the
1 Schmidt, 48. 2M.-L., § 117. For C, cf. Schmidt, 49-50.
3M.-L., p. 584 ; see Schmidt, 50, for examples in C.
4Cf. Johannssen, op. cit., p. 49. 6Haase, §45, G.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 475
indicative and subjunctive is essentially the same as in N. F.
A few examples may be noted of the indicative in impersonal
expressions:1 P, 112, puisque Dieu plaist que estes tant en
grace; 154, il a pleu d Dieu que mon emprise est premier e-
ment venue en voz mains; 190, bien semble qu'il est de noble
lieu party ; — Q, 1 0, c'estoit grant honte que je n'estoye mieulx
abill&e; 106, quelque tort qu'elle ait, il lui semble qu'elle ait
droit et qu'ette est sage. For examples in C, see Schmidt, 52.
In object clauses with verbs of thought and expression
the subjunctive is still common, as in O. F.2 Wherever a
subjective doubt is possible, the subjunctive occurs of right :
P, 19, il pensa qu'elle eust toute sa promesse mise en oubly ;
390, quant a moy,je croy qu'il soit ainsi; 403, je cuide qu'il
soit mal de moy d cause de la lucte; — Q, 3, comme il cuide
que les aultres soient; 46, mais je croy qu'il ne soit homme
au monde si doulx ne si gracieulx comme vous. For C, see
Schmidt, 52.
An occasional indicative with verbs of will and emotion
is found in P and Q : P, 44, si veult nature, droit et raison
qu'elle Pen doit trop mieulx aymer; 365, je plains que ma
dame n'est cy; — Q, 63, die tant est courrocfe que leurs
maistres sont liens; 124, si suy moult esbahie que ton mary
ne le tua.3
In relative clauses depending on a superlative the indica-
tive appears several times in P : 195, centaulnes de la plus
fine toille de Reims qu'il avoit peu finer ; 323 ; 341 ; 422, en
la meilkure faqon et maniere qu'il sceut. In such clauses Q,
has the subjunctive uniformly, but C 4 has one example of
the indicative. Worthy of note is the employment of the
»Cf. M.-L., §666. 'Darmesteter-Sudre, §445, i.
3 The forms dicles, faictes, which are found in object-clauses after prier,
adjurer (P, 320; Q, 48, 75), are probably subjunctives. Cf. Tobler,
VB., I, 29.
4 Schmidt, 51.
4
476 WILLIAM PIERCE SHEPAED.
indicative in a relative clause after an indefinite antecedent :
Q, 118, il n'est chose qui plus desplaist ajeunes homes que une
vieille femme. A distinctive O. F. trait in P and Q, not
found in C, is the use of a relative clause for a concessive : *
P, 219, dont ilz devroient jouster et donner la mesure telle qui
luy plaisoyt ; 366, luy bailie sa leotre de response a la royne,
qui fut telle qui s'ensuyt ; — Q, 8, de tieulx abillemens que d,
I'aventure son mary n'a pas paiez; 24, il n'est home si
enrage que sa femme ne face franc et debonnaire; 65.
In respect to the construction in temporal clauses, P con-
tains a single example of the indicative with ains que:2 100,
ains qu'il fut ung mois accompli, il eut varletz. Q, and C
have uniformly the subjunctive in such clauses. Peculiar to
C 3 is the temporal use of comme, with both indicative and
subjunctive.
In concessive clauses the deviations from N. F. usage are
more marked. As in O. F. either the indicative or the
subjunctive is employed, according to the subjective concep-
tion.4 Nevertheless it should be noted that in P and Q the
indicative is relatively more common than in C. With
combien que P employs the subjunctive: 17, combien que
feussent vrayes (so 28, 88, 46, 141, 212, 216, 268); the
indicative : 5, combien que sa personne estoit etfeust tousjours
linge et menue (so 44, 57, 99, 105, 186, 202, 288, 394);—
Q, has the subjunctive : 21, combien qu'il ait mis grant paine
a la trouver (so 36, 53, 59, 135); the indicative: 7, combien
qu'il a aises et plaisances largement (so 9, 25, 27, etc. : 16
examples in all) ; — C 5 has 1 1 examples of combien que with
i
1M.-L., 638; cf. also Strohmeyer, tJbei* verschicdene Functionen des alt-
franzosischen Relativsatzes, Berlin, 1892, pp. 21 ff.
2 For similar cases in O. F., cf. Miitschke, Die Nebensatze der Zeit im
Altfranzosischen, Kiel, 1887, p. 46.
3 Schmidt, 51. *M.-L., § 673; Darmesteter-Sudre, § 447, vi.
6 Schmidt, 50.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 477
the indicative, otherwise the subjunctive. With mais que, P
has the subjunctive : 13, mais que soyons en la chambre, nous
rirons (so 19, 24, 65, 75, 83, 258, 417); the indicative:
345, ma dame delibere d'y alter, mais que la presse etfoison
du peuple fut passee, so 407, je les vouldroye avoir maintenant,
mais que en coffres et en sacz les me f aides apporter ; — Q, and
C l have the subjunctive invariably. With jaqoit ce que, P
has the subjunctive : 47 and 49, jagoit ce que'ilz ne soient de
corps ne de gens d'armes les plus fors (so 153, 157, 200, 207,
211, 244, 302, 349, 406); the indicative or conditional:
45,ja$oit ce qu'on pourroit dire, so 91 and 150, jaqoit ce que
plusieurs auUres sont icy en vostre court (so 192, 211, 335,
425) ; — Q has the subjunctive : 58, jaqoit ce qu'ette soit
preude femme ; the indicative : 58, jagoit ce qu'elle est Men
aise. C 2 contains one example ofjagoit ce que with the con-
ditional, else invariably the subjunctive. We have thus
eighteen examples of the indicative in concessive sentences
in P, seventeen in Q, twelve in C. Q is relatively the most
archaic.
It may furthermore be noted that P contains one example
of concessive par — que: 265, par armes quevous ayezfaictes
.... n'avez volu estre chevalier. Concessive pour — que 3 is
common in all three works. Q, moreover, has one example
of the O. F. concessive comme que:* 61, et savoy-je bien,fait
elle, que vous en eussiez affaire? Comme que* elle les avoit
envoiez tout en essyant et par despit du bon homme.
Conditional sentences.6 In unreal conditions of present
time, the modern construction (si favais, je donnerais) is the
rule in each. Of the O. F. construction with the imperfect
subjunctive in one or both clauses, we find the following
1 Schmidt, 50. 2 Schmidt, 51.
sCf. Tobler, VS., n, 20 ff. 4Cf. Johannssen, op. ciL, 31.
5 In the editw princeps replaced by combien que -f- the subjunctive.
6Cf. M.-L., §§681-690; Darmesteter-Sudre, § 447, v.
478 WILLIAM PIERCE SHEPARD.
examples : — With the imperfect subjunctive in both clauses :
P, 31, oncques dame d'honneur ne peust aymer homme envieulx,
se ne feust les bonnes vertuz pour en estre le meilleur ; 86 ; —
Q, 17, si ce nefust vostre honneur et le mien,je n'en parlasse
ja; 32, 37, 54, 90; — C1 has four examples of this construc-
tion. It will be seen that Q, is relatively more archaic than
P or C. — Imperfect subjunctive in the protasis, conditional
in the apodosis : P, 15, et si fen eusse,je le diroye volentiers;
129, 287, 391 ; — no examples in Q,, one in C.1 — Imperfect
indicative in the protasis, imperfect subjunctive in the apo-
dosis : no examples in P, two in Q (30, 130), one in C.1
In unreal conditions of past time, the O. F. usage is fully
preserved. No examples are found with the perfect con-
ditional. For sentences with the pluperfect subjunctive in
both clauses, see P, 172, 177, 231, 413 ;— Q, 16, 45, 86,
130. Of more interest in this connection is the retention of
the imperfect subjunctive in its original O. F. function as a
pluperfect : 2 P, 309, se ne fust Vayde de Dieu, et qu'il fust
bien seoouru, sans nul remede il estoit mort ; 396 ; 420 ; — Q,
40, ses parens I'eussent plus haultement mariee, si ce ne fust
ung petit eschapeillon qu'elle avoitfait en sajeunesse; 93; —
C has four examples.3
In incomplete conditions with comme si,3 the subjunctive
is the invariable rule in Q and C, while P has three ex-
amples with the indicative: 211, 377, 384.
The present subjunctive is found occasionally in P in
si-clauses,4 to express wish or future contingency: 131, se
Dieu vous doint joye, nous vous prions que puissions voir voz
paremens ; 247, se Dieu vous gard; 399, s'aulcune malle
vueillance ou nouvelle en adviegne, il s'en excusera et des-
chargera du tout sur vous. In Q this is found only in the
old formula si m'aist Dieu (17, 25)i
1 Schmidt, 53. 2 Darmesteter-Sudre, § 454. 3 Schmidt, 54.
4M.-L., § 685; cf. Bischoff, Der Conjunctiv bei Chrestien, Halle, s. d.,
pp. 11, 12.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 479
Peculiar to P is the retention of the O. F. hypothetical
subjunctive in incomplete exclamatory conditions : 287, lors
ouyssiez de tons coustez cueurs tendrement souspirer et veissiez
yeulx de toutes gens plourer ; 290, 309, 333, 336, 411, 417.1
No traces of this construction exist in Q, or C.
E. The Infinitive.
The use of the infinitive as a substantive was very wide-
spread in O. F., but has since that period been much
restricted.2 In the fifteenth century this usage is still
common in Chartier,3 less so in Villon, and quite rare in
Commines.4 Here a noticeable distinction is to be observed
between P and C 5 on one hand, and Q on the other. In
the two former the infinitive-substantive is still very common,
being used not only with the definite article, but also with
pronouns and adjectives ; it may also take an object or an
adverbial modifier, just like a verb : P, 36, pour le departir;
42, luxure esi ardeur d I' assembler, puantise au departir;
151, au prendre congie; 158, ne cessa le deviser de la beaute
de Saintre; 167, tant de I'aller que du venir ; 189, le parler;
215, au lever des cercles; 227, pour Parriver; 425, le com-
mencer de parler d'icette dame remist d elle; 25, au long
otter; 101, par le faulx parler des dames; 27, nut deshon-
neste parler; 31, ce bien vivre; 32, ce revoir ; 48, d Pentrer
des armes; 98, vostre chevaucher; 118, d Passeoir des tables;
154, vostre vouloir ; 168, d ce rompre de lances; 171, au
joindre des lances; 173, d cause duferir bos; 311, avant le
commencer des armes; 234, son partir ; 211, le bouter de son
espee; 362, son dormyr ; 387 ', au premier prier ; 389, vostre
1 This construction is especially common in the O. F. epics ; cf. Quiehl,
Der Gebrauch des Konjunctivs in den allesten franz. Sprachdenkmdlern, Kiel,
1888, p. 40.
2M.-L., § 16 ; Darmesteter-Sudre, § 448.
3Eder, 93. 4Stimming, 491. 6 See Schmidt, 55-56.
480 WILLIAM PIERCE SHEPARD.
cuyder ; 403, et n'y vault le prier du seigneur de Saintre, etc.
But in Q, I have discovered only three examples of this
infinitive: 3, qu'ilz ont sentu auflayrer; 56, au long otter;
82, telle paine que le bon homme aura eu a I'aller, il I'aura au
revenir.
P has, moreover, some examples of the infinitive-substan-
tive with a subject:1 228, au departir I'ung de I'aultre; 254,
au departir les ungs des aultres ; — no cases in Q, or C.
A frequent variety of this construction in P and C,
unknown to Q, is the employment of the infinitive-substan-
tive with a and a relative clause containing the verb/atre,
as the equivalent of a temporal clause : 2 P, 78, au retourner
qu'ilz firent ; 122, au saillir que le roy fist ; 124, au revenir
qu'elle eut fait ; 145, 153, 155, 169, 185, 186, 224, 234,
361. C3 has six examples of this construction.
The use of the infinitive with accusative, rare in O. F.,
but common in the sixteenth century,4 is rare in P and Q,
but common in C : P, 63, sije scavoye les dieux n' avoir point
de congnoissance ; 5 213, disans estre tres desplaisant qu'elle
ne les entendoit; 317, lequel service voulons et ordonnons estre
ainsi continue ; 329, je me oongnois si grandement avoir mes-
pris ; — Q, 5, lesquelles ceulx qui sont maries ne croient nulles
aultres joyes estre pareilles. C 6 has eighteen examples of
this construction.
The simple infinitive is used as the subject of impersonal
verbs, as in O. F.7, in each of the works. So withplaire:
P, 19, 93, 123, etc. (15 examples) ; Q, 5, 100, 102 ; — con-
venir: P, 18, 243, 301, 354, 403, 417; Q, 8, 21. In C8
however seven examples of the modern construction with de
are found, to one in P : 407, quant vous plaira de les avoir ;
lCt. Tobler, VS., i, 90. 2Cf. Tobler, VS., I, 24.
3 Schmidt, 55. *Darmesteter, § 204; cf. also Tobler, VS., i, 88 ff.
5 Translation from Seneca. 6 Schmidt, 57.
7 Darmesteter-Sudre, § 449, I ; M.-L., §§ 339-40. 8 Schmidt, 58.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 481
and one in Q, : 17, bien que d ma cousine ou ma commere ne
plaist point d'y venir. P has also retained the O. F. con-
struction with falloir 1 in two cases : 288, de celle ne fault
point a parler ; 428, et ne fault mye a demander s'elle estoit
bien lionteuse.
P has likewise several examples of the simple infinitive used
as the logical subject or predicate with the verb estre: 63,
trop seroit longue chose . . . . les vouloir toutes exposer; 154,
se vostre vouloir estoit me quieter du scelle de ma promesse ;
334, supplyant que vostre bon plaisir soit la nous laisser pour-
suyr ; 429, quant le plaisir de Dieufut d soy vouloir prendre
son ame. Q, has a single example of this construction : 119,
or oonsiderez si c'est bien fait mettre deux choses contraires
ensemble. C has no instances of this construction with
nouns, but several with adjectival expressions liketY est force,
il est necessaire, etc.
In comparative clauses after que (quam) our works have
generally the simple infinitive : P, 17, Saintre, qui ne pensoit
pas moins que estre deshonnoure; 234; — Q, 1, c'est plus
grant felicite de vivre en franchise et liberte que soi asservir ;
39, nul ne se peut plus gaster que soy enveloper en ces deux
liens. C2 has two examples. The infinitive with de is also
found: P, 20, 52, 386, 419 ; Q, 5, 124. After aimer mieux
que, valoir mieux que} the simple infinitive is the invariable
rule in P and Q : P, 33, 49, 362, etc. ; Q, 2, 23, 64, 92 ;
while in C 3 four examples with de are found.
The object infinitive with verbs. — Here I shall note only
the chief cases of differing constructions in the three works :4 —
attendre, with &, Q, 19, 65, 80 ; with simple inf., C, one example.
tfatlendre, with d, Q, 19 ; with simple inf., C, one example.
accaustumer, with de, P, 65,; with d, Q, 6, 23, 44, 48, 88 ; with simple
inf. , Q, 17, 32, 34 ; in C always with de.
Nobler, VS., i, 214. » Schmidt, 59. 3 Schmidt, 60.
4 For examples in C, cf . Schmidt, 59-62.
482 WILLIAM PIERCE SHEPABD.
advertir, with simple inf., P, 91 ; always with de in Q and C.
apprendre, with de, C, two ex., always with d in P.
avancer, always with d in P, always with de in C.
commander, generally with the simple inf. ; P has two ex. with d : 188,
262 ; C one with de.
commencer, in P, 16 ex. with d to one with simple inf. (351) ; in Q
always with d ; in C with d or de, as in N. F.
deliverer, in P one ex. with d (412) ; in Q always with de ; in C one ex.
with simple inf.
desirer, in P with simple inf. : 216, 234, 404 ; with d, 15, 17 ; with de,
317, 325, 359 ;— in Q with simple inf., 2, 31 ; with de, 118 ;— C has all
three constructions.
emprendre, with de, P, 112, 115, 246, 330 ; with d, P, 146 ;— in Q always
with d (78, etc. ) ; — in C one ex. with de.
s'e/wcer, in P, five ex. with de, one with d (105) ; in C with de.
entendre, in P with de : 73, 353 ; with d : 359, 411 ; with simple inf. :
183, 211, 338, 357 ;— in Q with d : 62 ;— in C one ex. with d, one with
simple inf.
se garder, in P with simple inf. : 337, 359 ; — in C always with de.
laisser, in P always with d : 60, 193, 201, 218, etc. ;— in Q with d : 69,
74, 86 ; with de : 6 ; — in C only one ex. with d.
mander, in P with simple inf. : 111, 368 ; elsewhere with de.
offrir, always with d in P and Q ; C has one ex. with de.
ordonner, in P with simple inf., five ex. : 224, 234, etc. ; with de, five
ex. : 159, 205, etc. ; with d, four ex. : 6, 92, etc. ; — in Q with simple inf. :
25 ; — in C one ex. with simple inf.
prier, generally with de as in N. F. : P has one ex. with d (133), one
with simple inf. (240) ; C, one ex. with simple inf.
penser, invariably with de in P and C, as in O. F. ; — in Q with de : 31,
87, 123 ; with d : 23, 40.
promettre, always with de in P ; in Q, one ex. with simple inf. (50) ; in
C, three ex. with simple inf.
requerir, in P with d : 203, 399 ; — in Q and C always with de.
sembler, with de : P, 257 ; — elsewhere as in N. F.
tenir, in P with de : 209, 210, 225 ; with simple inf. : 210 ;— in Q and C
always with d.
The infinitive with de, employed as the subject of a follow-
ing verb,1 is found in P : 309, de les nommer seroit trop
longue chose ; — and in C ; 2 — never in Q.
1 Darmesteter-Sudre, § 450. 2 Schmidt, 60.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 483
The so-called historical infinitive with de1 is extremely
common in C,2 while there are but three examples in P :
171, et alors les trompettes de sonner et les criz du peuple;
173, 329 ; — and none in Q. This is not an O. F. trait.
The locution faire a + the infinitive,3 expressing necessity,
occurs once in P : 396, bien fait a reprendre le cueur d'ung
gentilhomme qui,pour une lucte, n'ose soubztenir sa loyaulte; —
nine times in C,4 never in Q.
I may note also the fact that C 4 construes aimer mieux
with a three times ; this is never found in P or Q.
Avant with the simple infinitive is found once in C,8 but :
P, 404, avant que de descendre; Q, 4, avant que perdre
franchise.
Devant que -f infinitive occurs once in P (168), never in
QorC.
En + infinitive is found once in P: 106, employez vostre
temps soit en conquestes d'armes, soit en services de seigneurs,
ou en estre servy; — once also in C,5 never in Q.
Par with the infinitive, a construction still common in the
seventeenth century,6 is found twice in P (30, 108), once in
Q (5), but eleven times in C.5
P also contains two examples of estre pour -j- the infinitive,
expressing a near futurity:7 157, et quant je fuz pour monter
a chevol, il m} envoy a quarante florins ; 332. No similar cases
occur in Q or C.
F. The Gerund and Present Participle.
In Old French the gerund was as a rule always kept
distinct from the present participle, and not inflected. First
1M.-L., § 529 ; cf. also Marcou, Der historische Infinitiv im Franzosischen,
Berlin, 1888, pp. 13-14.
'Schmidt, 61. 8Diez, 937.
4 Schmidt, 62. 6 Schmidt, 63. 6Haase, 207.
7 Diez, 940 ; a common Romance construction.
484 WILLIAM PIEECE SHEPARD.
in the fourteenth century a confusion set in, the gerund
becoming inflected like the verbal adjective, and this con-
fusion lasted till the seventeenth century.1 The so-called
participial gerund is not uncommon in all three works. P
and Q agree in usage very nearly, while in C the uninflected
form is relatively more frequent. Of the uninflected form P
contains 16 examples with a feminine singular, 6 with a fem-
inine plural, 9 with a masculine plural — total 31 ; Q con-
tains 9 with a feminine singular, 2 with a feminine plural,
2 with a masculine plural — total 13 ; C (100 pages) has 39
with a feminine singular, 1 with a feminine plural, 2 with
a masculine plural — total 42. Of the inflected forms, P
contains 3 with a feminine singular (with the ending -cms),
none with a feminine plural, 19 with a masculine plural —
total 22 ; Q contains none with a feminine singular, 3 with
a feminine plural (with the ending -cms), 4 with a masculine
plural — total 7 ; C has none with a feminine singular, 6 with
a feminine plural (-cms), 5 with a masculine plural — total
11. The proportion of uninflected to inflected forms is thus
in P, 14/10 : 1 ; in Q, 19/10 : 1 ; in C, 38/10 : 1.2
A further distinction is the fact that in P the ending -cms
is found with singular nouns, both masculine and feminine, a
last remnant of the O. F. case-system ; 21, lors a jointes
mains estans tousjours a genoukc, requist de rechief a ma dame
merci; 200, ires desirans de son retour, ma dame . . .; 213,
la royne . . . leur demanda des dames et estas de leurs pays,
disans estre tres desplaisant qu'ette ne les entendist; 11, 288,
1 M. -L. , § 500 ; Haase, § 91 ; cf. also Klemenz, Der syntactvsche Gebrauch
des Participium Praescntis und des Gerundiums im Altfranzosichen, Breslau,
1884, pp. 26 ff. ; Vogels, Roman. Stridien, V, 534-556.
2 1 believe that the prevalence of the modern rule in C is due mostly to
the fact that it is more popular in style and has fewer literary pretensions
than P or Q. The use of the inflected gerund, in Old and Middle French,
•was more or less a Latinism ; cf. Vogels, loc. cit., p. 535.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 485
336, etc. In Q, only one example is found : 6, ainsi, re-
gardans cestes peines . . . considerans la repugnence ... me suy
delicti a escripvre icettes quinze joyes; — and in C none. The
latter, however, contains two examples of the feminine plural
in -antes,1 not found in P or Q.
Q contains one example of inflected prepositional durant :
5, durans les saincts mysteres.
Of present participles with passive force,2 I have noted
the following examples in P : 200, Gkiillaume, qui est bien
entendant ; 336, Saintre et ses compaignons ordonnerent une
ires belle lectre d'armes, adressans d, la court de I'empereur ;
391, le seigneur de Saintre, ires desplaisant de la charge et
injure que donnoit aux gentilz hommes damp Abbez.
P likewise shows several remnants of the O. F. use of the
gerund as a case of the infinitive ; 3 thus it may be used with
a preposition, taking the article : 263, au clinssant qu'elle (la
lance) fist; or may have a subject expressed: 263, devant le
roy de France, en gardant Dieu son corps de peine et loyal
exoine, il accompliroit sa requeste. Such examples are un-
known to Q and C.4
P also contains many examples of the free use of the
gerund, not referring to the subject or object : 5 99, et en
disant ces parolles (I'escuyer), tons (les pages') /went despouillez
et s'en vont couchier; 264, et en combatant I'ung contre Paultre,
fortune voulut . . .; 384, et en disant ces mots (la dame}, le
seigneur de Saintre' prestement descendit. I have noted no
similar cases in Q, and in C they are very rare.
In regard to the omission of en before the gerund, where
N. F. usage demands it, P is again more archaic.6 Thus in
100 pages, P has 17 examples of the gerund with en, to 6
1 Schmidt, 65. 2Tobler, VS., i, 36 ff.
SM.-L., §498; Tobler, VS., I, 51-52.
4 And also to Chartier and Commines.
5M.-L., § 499 ; Huguet, 219. 6 Darmesteter-Sudre, § 457, I.
486 WILLIAM PIERCE 6HEPAKD.
without en ; Q has 23 with to 5 without ; and in C, judging
by the examples given by Schmidt, page 65, the proportion
is about the same as in Q.
Lastly I may note P's peculiar use of the present parti-
ciple, adverbially modified, as a noun : 118, le mieulx dansant;
1 1 9, les mieulx chantans, etc. Similar examples are found
in Deschamps.1
G. The Perfect Participle.
In respect to the agreement of the perfect participle with
avoir,2 the O. F. usage is much more thoroughly preserved in
P than in Q and C. Namely, we find in P 23 examples of
the participle agreeing with a following noun-object : 58, qui
ait voulentiers accomplies les oeuvres de misericorde ; 96, les
services et gracieusetez out avancez voz jours; 120, 140, 149,
202, 216, 227, etc. Q, on the other hand, has but three
such cases : 85, qui avoit fort entretenue la guerre; 96 ;
103; — and C3 only seven. P here agrees in usage with
Deschamps,4 and is more archaic than Chartier,5 who has
only a few similar examples.
In the common word-order, auxiliary-object-participle,
agreement is the rule in P, in which there are in all twelve
examples : 18, quant Saintr6 eut les autres enffans ses com-
paignons trouves (so 20, 21, 23, 51, 71, 117, etc.); and one
of non-agreement (19); — while in Q, in which this word-
order is rare, not one example of agreement is found. C,s
in turn, has seven cases of this usage.
Likewise in the position, object-auxiliary-participle, or
participle-object-auxiliary, P generally shows agreement :
46, les rois telles batailles ont ordonnees; 62, tant d'aultres
petites misericordes nous a il recommandees ; 354, que ses
1 Bode, 75. *M.-L., §416.
3 Schmidt, 67. * Bode, 77. 5Eder, 142.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 487
dueilz avoit oubliez; 81, comme si jamais veue ne Peust. Q
has no examples of such constructions, C only one.1
Of cases of non-agreement with a preceding pronominal
object P has six examples: 34, cdle tree glorieuse vertu de
charit6 qui est fille de Dieu et qu'il nous a tant recommande;
50, 198, 211, 223, 236 ; — Q has two : 82, tette paine que le
bon homme aura eu; 110, pour les maux qu'il a souffry; —
while C shows fourteen.2 It will be noticed that C has a
tendency to leave the participle invariable in all positions.
Non-agreement of the participle when used with estre is
never found in P. It occurs once (possibly twice3) in Q : 104,
le pere et la mere sont tant courroce que c'est merveilles; — and
twice in C.4
Each work has a single example of agreement of the
participle with the object of a dependant infinitive : P, 404,
& la requeste d'elle ne I'eust daignee plus aymer; Q, 125,
pourquoy je vous ay envoiees querir.
In P alone is found a single example of the old rule of
the agreement of the participle of reflexive verbs with the
subject:5 418, et a tant laisseray cy a parler de ma dame et
de la guerison de damp Abbez, qui par Vespace de deux ans
s'estoient donnez du bon temps ensemble.
The absolute perfect participle is about equally common in
all three works. But the construction by which a predicative
participle is employed with the noun-object of a temporal
preposition 6 is found in P and C,7 not in Q, : P, 103,
apres la messe ouye, Jehan de Salntre ne cessa qu'il eust les
palefreniers ; 213, avant les espices venues; 116, 140, 146,
196, etc. For examples hi C, see Schmidt, 68.
1 Schmidt, 67. 2 Schmidt, 66.
3 The sentence : 112, I1 amour de ses enfans est aublie, is doubtful, owing to
the change of gender of amour.
4 Schmidt, 68. 5 M.-L., §§ 295, 416 ; Tobler, VS., n, 51 ff.
«Tobler, VB., I, 113 ff.
7 Schmidt, 68. Schmidt ends his study of C's syntax at this point.
488 WILLIAM PIEECE SHEPARD.
ADVERBS.
A. Adverbs of Negation.
In respect to the use of the negative particles pas, point,1
P is again more conservative than Q and C, which are here
very nearly in harmony. An enumeration of the negative
sentences in the first fifty pages of each gave the following
results : —
ne alone, in a principal clause : P, 19 ; Q, 21 ; C, 12.
ne alone, in a subordinate clause : P, 17 ; Q, 22 ; C, 16.
ne .... pas : P, 25 ; Q, 59 ; C, 61.
Tie .... point : P, 15 ; Q, 34 ; C, 7.
ne .... mie : P, .2 ; Q, 0 ; C, 0.
Or, as a total, P contains 36 cases of ne alone to 40 of ne
with a negative complement; Q, 43 to 93; C, 28 to 68.
In other words, the negative particles pas, point, are employed
twice as frequently in Q and C as in P.
Worthy of note is further the fact that the particle mie
is very frequently employed in P, but is unknown to Q and
rare in C : P, 8, et ne lefont mie pour V amour de Dieu; 332,
il ne dit mye de la sienne, etc. ; — C, I, 3, 381, etc.
The tonic form of the negation is used with a verb in all
three works.2 Here a distinction is apparent between P and
C on the one hand, Q on the other. In the two former,
tonic non is employed with the infinitive, gerund, and with
finite verb-forms often in emphatic responses : P, 13, esse la
contenance d'un escuyer de bien que de non convoy er les dames;
21, non/aisoient nulle des autres; 67, gardez de non oublier
les richesses des cieulx ; 76, ma mere, dist il, non ay vraye-
ment; 82, non sera il; 83; 89; 94; 186, messire Enguerrant,
non sentant le meschief qu'il avoit; 200; 222; 319; 321, il
vous a dit la verite. Non a, dist elle; 403 ; — C, I, 3, veez cy
1 Darmesteter-Sudre, §484; M.-L., § 193.
2 Darmesteter-Sudre, § 480 ; Huguet, 259 ft. ; Bode, 85 ; Eder, 149.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 489
ja retourne de son voyage bon mary, non querant ceste si bonne
aventurc; 26 ; 31, pour non resister ; 33, par ma foy, non
ay; 34 ; 37 ; 40 ; etc. In Q, however, tonic non is found
only with the verb/atre, in emphatic responses : 11, nonfais,
sire, fait elle; 43, certes, m}amie}fera il, nonfe)'ay; 47, 48,
102, 129. Q's usage agrees nearly with that of Commines.1
The use of the negative particle point, without ne, in
interrogative sentences,2 occurs rarely in each of the works :
P, 318, estes vous .... point chaugie; 407, avez vous point
desjeune; — Q, 77, ma cousine m'avoit demand^ si je auroye
point de robe cL mes levailles; — C, I, 25, madame demande s'il
I'avoit point senty.
The so-called expletive ne in dependant clauses 3 is found
omitted, (a) after verbs of fearing in P and Q, (6) in com-
parative clauses in Q, alone : P, 381, il doubta qu'elle Jut
malade; 403, doubtant que voulsissiez faire ung tr op grant et
excessif appareil ; — Q, d4,faypaour que elle me descouvra a
son mary; 73, 103, 113 ; — Q,, 12, pleust a Dieu qu'il ne vous
en tenist james plus qu'il fait a moy. Contrary to modern
usage, this ne is employed in P and C after the verb
defendre:4 P, 15, et encores vous deffens que ne soyez noy-
seux ; — C, II, 115, et de fait luy dejfendit par motz expres et
menasses que jamais ne se trouvast s'il ne luy mandoit.
B. Other Adverbs.
The O. F. adverb enz5 (intus) is used once in P: 76, et
quant ilzfurent entrez enz; — twice in C : I, 173 ; n, 241 ; —
never in Q.
1 Commines uses non with the verb/atre and with the infinitive ; Stimming,
502.
2 These sentences are not in reality negative : cf. Schultze. Der altfranzo-
sische Fragesatz, pp. 27 ff. Such phrases are not infrequent in Commines :
Toennies, 73 ; Slimming, 501.
3M.-L., §§ 706, 709. 4 Darmesteter-Sudre, § 481, B. 2.
6 Darmesteter-Sudre, § 468.
490 WILLIAM PIERCE SHEPARD.
Peculiar to P is the use of the O. F. adverb of place
illecques: 157, ittecques publicquement fist lire la lectre; 158,
176, 268, 274, 424. C employs twice the form Mec: I, 38 ;
n, 242. Q never uses it. This adverb is common in
Deschamps * and in Chartier,2 but becomes very rare at the
end of the fifteenth century.3
Peculiar to Q is the employment of mais in its original
adverbial function4 (==plus): 15, oncques mais n'avint si
grant honte a femme de mon lignage; 45, la dame ne se aide
point ne mais se Jiobe que une pierre; 64; 98. Villon5 has
several examples of this usage, but it seems to be unknown
to the other authors of the period.
Peculiar to P is the frequent absolute use of plus, equiva-
lent to davantage, de plus, plus longtemps: 47, par quatre
choses seullemeut et pour nulle plus; 78, je vouldroye qu'il eust
plus trois ou quatre de mes ans; 93, il a honte d'estreplus
paige; 105, 162, 257, 390, etc. P furthermore employs
outre plus with the same signification: 21, et oultre plus vous
sgavez; 207 ; etc. Such locutions are unknown to Q and C.
Meshuy (=jamais) aujourd'huy} is peculiar to C : I, 8, 48,
161; n, 149; etc.
Q alone has an example of the M. F. adverb quant et
quant:6 82, en ce cas il conviendra qu'il trote a pied, et qu'il
soit tousjours quant et quant.
Adverbial puis is peculiar to P: 62, laquelle oncques puis
ne lui vint; 264, et a tant laisseray a parler de toutes ces armes
et des aultres qui puis ilfist.
Adverbial si, in the predicate with estre or other verbs,7 is
common in P, less so in Q and C : P, 17, et si f era ma dame;
29, ce pechie est d Dieu desplaisant, si est il a I'honneur et au
1 Bode, 81. 2Eder, 215.
3Cf. Pluguet, 231. 4Cf. Tobler, VS., in, 26 ff.
5G. T., 215, 290, 720, etc.
6Darmesteter, § 240. 7Cf. Tobler, VE., I, 105 ff.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 491
corps de celluy qui Vest; 87, celle nuyct luy fut si longue que
<>w,jtics si longue nefut, si lui scmbla; — Q, 128, que maudit
soit U de Dieu. Amen, font elles, et si est il.
Adverbial tant, in affirmative clauses, is found several
times in P: 18, lors commenqa tant qu'U peult dfuyr; 154,
dont tant comme je puis et scay, humblement je vous en
remereie ; 235, ne vous poroye dire le tres grant deuil que le
seigneur de Loysselench fist tant de sa male fortune comme
de ce qu'ung si jeune homme I'avoit fouille; 310; 329; etc.
This construction is still found in Deschamps,1 but is
unknown to Commines.2 No examples occur in Q or C.
Tant, with adjectives and adverbs, is common in all three
works. The temporal a tant occurs in P : 199, 335, etc.; —
and in C : II, 24 ; — but not in Q.
Adverbial trop (= tres, bien) was used with adjectives
commonly in the fifteenth century. But in P and C it is
found only with comparatives : P, 9, trop plus honnourees,
21, I'aymoit trop mieute ; 34, 44, 105, 187, 192, etc.; — C,
II, 20, Je I'ayme trop mieulx que vous. In Q, on the other
hand, it does not appear with comparatives, but with simple
adjectives : 25, et la chambriere qui la garde respont que elle
est trop malade; 43, 51, 79, 99, 125. Here P and C agree
with Chartier 3 and Rabelais.4
PREPOSITIONS.
A, denoting accompaniment or means,5 is common in P :
126, il avoit torn clievaliers, tel, tel et tel d XlVchevaulx, LX
escuyers d XXII chevaulx ; 141; 198; 219; 241; 334,
avons tous aujourd'huy voue, que d vostre bon congie et licence,
nous porterons ceste emprise d'armes; 369, il la trouva avec-
ques damp Abbez, viz d viz d table, d bien peu de gens. In
1 Bode, 79. 2 Slimming, 502. 3 Eder, 49.
* Huguet, 255. 5 Darmesteter-Sudre, § 462, v.
5
492 WILLIAM PIERCE SHEPARD.
Q-this usage is very rare: 64, vous ne travaillez si non a
despendre et d, gaster tout, a gens dont je n'ay que faire.
This use of d is still common in Commines.1
A, denoting possession (still common in vulgar speech), is
frequent in P: 6, aisnefilz au seigneur deSaintre; 56, vertus
theologiennes, meres au bon esperit; 261, la visiere a Saintre;
319 ; 329 ; etc. In Q this use of a is rare (113, la couleur
a Jacob), as it is in Commines.2
A 'Pencontre de (= contre) occurs in P alone : ilz bataillent
jour et nuyct a I'encontre de Pame, 54 ; etc.
Atout3 (— avecj occurs in P and C, never in Q: P, 140,
Saintre, atout sa compaignie ; 162, 291, 334, 384; — C, I,
20, etc.
Aval is likewise restricted to P and C: P, 195, aval leur
face; C, n, 92, 131.
The O. F. use of de to introduce a logical subject or
predicate 4 is preserved by P, though it is not frequent : 29,
et quant au deuxiesme pechie, qui est de ire; 203, de ce qu'il
en dist, fut plus a I'honneur de messire Enguerrant que au
sien; 341, la desplaisance et maladie de nostre cueur n' est for s
que du desir. Q, prefers que de: 55, ce n'est rien que d'une
pouvre femme seule ; 131; etc.
One example of de with comparatives, before a noun or
pronoun,5 occurs in P and Q: P, 368, maistre Julien n}en
pensa guieres moins de la verite; — Q, 48, si sui je aisnee
d'elle.
Devant,6 as a temporal preposition, occurs in P alone : 17,
davant deux jours, il auroit choisi et fait dame pour servir.
Entre, meaning " together," introducing a compound sub-
ject,7 as was common in O. F., is frequent in P: 13, allez
1 Stimming, 203. 2 Only one example : Stimming, 201.
3 M. -L. , § 444. * Cf . Tobler, VS. , i, 5 ff .
5 Darmesteter-Sudre, §374. 6Cf. Huguet, 294.
7Diez, 1083, note ; Tobler, V£., i, 273.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 493
deshors entre vous hommes, et nous laissiez icy; 333, vous
s$avez qu'entre nous femmes sommes malades quant il nous
plaist; 389, 403, 421. This usage is unknown to Q and C
and seems to have died out quite early. The only other
author of the fifteenth century in whom I have been able to
find an example is A. Greban.1 It is unknown to Corn-
mines.2
Empres (= aupres de) is peculiar to Q, and C : 8, its ont le
past emprds5 eux dedans la nasse; 25, 48, 82, 120; C, I, 188,
272, etc.
Encontre* is found only in P and C : P, W9,pour s'esprou-
ver encontre quelque chevalier; 260; — C, I, 27, etc.
Enmy occurs only in C : I, 75, etc.
Entour is peculiar to P : 15, entour ses dois; 99 ; 188 ; etc.
Endroit, common in O. F.,6 occurs twice in Q : 60, lors
les gallants, chacun endroit soy; 135, mais chacun, endroit
soy, croit le contraire; — never in P or C.
Environ (= aux environs de) occurs in Q, : 8, se tournoye
et serche le jeunes horns environ la nasse; 18; 130; — and in
C (only in expressions of time : I, 74, environ la mynuyf) ; —
never in P.
The O. F. preposition o, ot (apud) is found in Q:6 82,
parler o ses commeres; 86, coucher o luy; 88; 92; 118; and
in C. It is not found in P, but occurs in Chartier,7 Villon,8
and A. Greban.9
Par, denoting extent of time,10 is very common in P: 12,
par plusieurs jours ; 20, par deuxfoys; 20, par quatre jours;
1 Mysore de la Passion, 14373. * Slimming, 205.
3 In the edilio princeps replaced by aupres de.
4 Cf. Huguet, 276.
5 Still found in Descharaps : cf. Bode, 88.
6 Not used in the editio princeps. 7 Eder, 201.
8G. T., 1499. » Passion, 10976.
10M.-L., § 453 ; Slimming, 206 ; Huguet, 299.
494 WILLIAM PIERCE SHEPARD.
113, vous le porterez par I'espace d'ung an; 120, 151, 322,
422, etc. In Q and C this usage is much restricted : Q, 77,
y a prins touz plaisirs par deux ou par trois ou quatre ans.
Finally, I may notice P's use of sur with a superlative, as
in O. F.1 (= plus que) : 25, se elle n'est sur toutes la plus
cruelle; 45, il sur tous sera le mieulx condicionne ; 229, 313,
351. This is found only once in Q: 74, mon amy, que je
ame sur toutes choses qui sont en terre.
CONJUNCTIONS.
The O. F. si, coordinating conjunction, is found very
commonly in each of these works, in most of its O. F.
functions.2 In P, however, it is used more frequently to
introduce the main clause, especially after a preceding
temporal clause : 3 75, et quant ma dame veit qu'il ne re-
spondit rien, si lui dist; 18, 20, 76, 222, 381, etc. I have
not observed any instances of this usage in Q, but it is
common in other authors of the fifteenth and sixteenth
centuries.
The conjunction ni appears most frequently in its O. F.
form ne. In P, more often than in Q or C, this ne appears
in sentences where no strictly negative force is apparent : 4
P, 34, tant soit elle grande ne puissante ; 188, ou est cdluy,
ne ou fut oncques qui . . . .; 190; 369, et pensa que actendroit
pour luy envoy er ne escripvre; 377; etc.; — Q, 46, je croy
qu'il ne soit femme du monde si doulx ne si gracieulx comme
vous estes ; 61, et que en pui-je mes, Sire, fait elle, ne que
voulez vous queje en face; 116.
1 Haase, p. 371. Not found in Commines.
2M.-L., § 547 : cf. Wehrmann, Roman. Studien, v, 399 ff.
3 Darmesteter, § 291.
*Diez, 1082 ; Huguet, 318 ; Wehrmann, loc. tit., 414 5.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 495
In correlated contrasted clauses (N. F. plus .... plus,
autant .... autanC) 1 P employs tant plus . . . . et (tant)
plus: 12, dont, tant plus a lui elle parloit, et tant plus lui
venott a plaisir ; 80, car tant plus elle le regardoit, et tant
plus il luy plaisoit; 99, tant plus vous croissez, se ne vous
amandez, et plus chetifz et meschans serez ; etc. Q, prefers de
tant plus . . . . de tant plus : 59, et de tant qu'il Vaura plus
chiere, de tant luy fera el plus de melencolies. Commines here
agrees with Q, but has also the modern plus . . . . et plus.2
In dependant clauses denoting cause or result P employs
frequently the conjunctions en tant que, pour tant que,3 which
are unknown to Q : P, 23, il a failly, en tant qu'il devoit
avoir dame choisie; 333, chascun accouroit, pour tant que
oncques chose plus joyeuse a veoir ne fut ; etc.
Peculiar to P is further the conjunction par ainsi que,
concessive: 247, et par ainsi que I'adventurier ait lectres de
son roy . . . qu'il est gentil homme de nom et d'armes; 412, et
vostre bon faulcon, je le retiens, par ainsi que le me garderez.
Parquoi,* causative (= c'est pourquot), is also of common
occurrence in P : 1 30, la dame advertit la royne que Saintre
estoit merveilleusement acoustre de coursiers et aultres choses;
parquoy ladicte royne dist a Saintre qu'il fist amener ses che-
vaulx; 149, 154, 211, 248, etc. Q has only two examples:
56, 125.
To express contemporaneous time relations, P employs
endemantiers que and entendis que,6 both of which are un-
known to Q, and C : P, 79, et endemantiers qu'ilz dansoient, le
petit Saintre les yeulx de ma dame ne cessoit de regarder; 151,
153, 219, etc. 362, ma dame, entendis que vostre compaignie
fait bonne chere, je vous vueil monxtrer mon edifice nouvel.
1Matzngr, 533 ; Tobler, VB., n, 51 ff.
2 Stimming, 506. 3M.-L., p. 639.
* Common in Commines : Stimming, 506. 5M.-L., § 599.
496 WILLIAM PIERCE SHEPARD.
P has two examples of the use of the temporal conjunction
quand to express a causal relation,1 as was common in O. F. :
325, de ma part le vous accorde, remerciant quant vous m'avez
en tel nombre et compaignie prins et esleu; 417, la veissiez
pleurs et souspirs et mauldire leurs vies, quant oncques s'estoient
la arrivez.
Peculiar to Q, is the use ofpuisque in a temporal function,
also common in O. F. :2 9, car c'est une chose, puisqueje la
vous auroye dite} vous n'en feriez compte; 25, oncques puis
qu'il partoit, que die ne mengea.
WORD-ORDER AND VARIA.
P has preserved a distinctive trait of the older word-order
in imperative sentences. The O. F. rule was that when the
command began with an adverb like or, car, etc., the pro-
nominal object assumed its usual position before the verb.3
P has many examples of this usage : 17, or doncques, dist ma
dame, vous en attez; 24, or nous dictes qui elle est; 24, or vous
tirez done ga; 50, or me dictes vostre intension; 53, 72, 413,
etc. In Q there is no trace of this usage, nor in C either,
so far as I have observed.4
Other peculiarities of P's word-order, which are found
rarely or not at all in Q, and C, are the following : —
(a) The order subject -f- object -(- verb :5 11, desirans veoir
lequel d'eulx Paultre surmonteroit ; 46, mais les empereurs, les
rois et les autres princes terriens .... telles batailles ont
JM.-L., § 587. 2M.-L., § 601.
3 Of. Estienne, Grammaire de la langue d' ail, 343 ; Englaender, Der Impe-
rativ im Alifranzb'sischen, Breslau, 1889, p. 48 ; Kriiger, Ueber die Wortstellung
in derfranz. Prosalitteratur des dreizehnten Jahrhunderts, Berlin, 1876, p. 26 ;
Morf, Roman. Studien, in, 230.
*Deschamps' usage agrees with that of P : Voll, 16.
5M.-L., § 748; Darmesteter-Sudre, § 494, 2.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 497
ordonnees et maintenues ; 145, le roy d'armes d'Anjou . . . . d
Sainire ledit scette presenta.
(6) The order adverbial modifier + verb (no subject
expressed) : l 20, lorn tout d coup & genoulx et & mains jo intes
se mist; 37, mais tousjours verras que de paresse et de
infortune seront tousjours accompaignes ; 319, je vous prie
que ce soir avecques la royne dormiez.
(c) The order auxiliary -f object -j- participle : 2 42, qui
ont ce pechie tant blasme; 18, quant Saintre eut les autres
enjfans ses compaignons trouves ; 177, se les seigneurs de la
court .... n'eussent Saintre oultre son gre retenu. Q, has
apparently only one example of this order : 128, par Nostre
Dame du Puy, ou fay mon corps porte. It is, however,
common in C and in Commines.3
(d) The order preposition -f- object or adverb + infini-
tive:4 3, pour trop ou peu escripvre ; 16, pour le service
d' amour acquerir ; 24, a couleur changer; 27, d loyaulment
une telle dame servir ; etc. In Q, I have again found only
one example : 95, il ne s'esmoye de nulle chose, fors de ses
delits et plaisances trouver.
(e) P is also fond of placing the noun objects of a
dependent infinitive before the principal verb : 5 50, si prie
d Dieu que tout, ou la plus grant partie, vous doint avoir bien
ouy et retenu; 79, le petit Saintre les yeulx de ma dame ne
cessoient de regarder ; etc.
P is also noteworthy for the boldness of its omissions.
Thus in many cases the object pronoun is not repeated
before several succeeding verbs, even though the regimen of
the verbs vary, one taking the accusative and the other the
dative : 68, d qui leur pourra mieulx complaire et plus sub-
tilement flater ; 156, ilz luy firent ires bel accueil et festoyerent
1 Also frequent in Commines : cf. Toennies, 20.
2 Darmesteter-Sudre, § 494, 3; M.-L., § 737. s Slimming, 220.
4 Darmesteter-Sudre, § 496. 5Cf. Slimming, 192.
498 WILLIAM PIERCE SHEPARD.
sollennellement ; 383, chascun lui vint faire la reverence et
acoller ; 421 ; etc. Q, shows no case exactly similar, though
the following sentence contains an omission no longer per-
missible: 103, la mere a bien introduite la fille et enseignee
qu'elle luy donne de grans estorces. P also often fails to
repeat an auxiliary verb, even though one of the following
participles demands a different auxiliary from the preceding :
315, quant le seigneur de Saintr£ et celle noble et chevaleresque
compaignie furent venuz d sainct Denis et faites en eglises leurs
devotions, furent au devant d'eulx les trois seigneurs dues ;
406; 419, les cueurs, dont vous en estes tres faulcement et
mauvaisemcnt serviz et puis el la Jin habandonnez. Similarly
the second auxiliary may be omitted with a changed subject :
64, et quant serez en vostre porpoint lacce et vos chausses bien
nectes et bien tendues; 121, Saintrefut tout de neuf et ses gens
bien habilles ; 350, et quant damp Abbez et le maistre d'ostel
furent venuz, et le premier assis, ma dame dist d, damp Abbez,
etc. Q contains no similar licences, which are however
frequent in O. F. and occasionally found as late as the
seventeenth century.1
Lastly, I should like to call attention to the frequent
anacolutha and changes of construction in P. La Sale is not
a very practised writer; he frequently becomes embroiled in
a long sentence, forgets his subject, and continues with a
totally different construction. Cf., for example : 23, le povre
tant esbahy d ainsi gehenne d'elles, force luy fut de dire oui;
49, ceulx qui errent en toutes choses sans raison, tout se peut
amender,fors que les erreurs desordonnees, guerres et batailles;
94, le roy, qui par ses gracieusetez et par les bons raports qu'il
en avoit, I'acorda tres voulentiers; 342, et nous sgavons que se
ma dame sqavoit que de nous venist, suis acertainee qu'elle n'en
xFor similar cases in O. F. and a discussion of them, see Tobler, VS., I,
107 S.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 499
seroit mye contente. Note also 49, 127, 195, 241, 243, 258,
285, 309, 370, 389. Such anacolutha are practically absent
from Q, which iii general manages long sentences and bal-
ances its periods much better than P.
CONCLUSION.
I think that it must be evident from the preceding com-
parisons that the syntactical usage of the Quinze Joyes and
the Cent Nouvellcs is not that of La Sale in Saintre. I need
not call attention here to the principal points of divergence ; l
that would be merely to recapitulate most of the preceding
pages. In almost every case where an exact comparison is
possible, La Sale's syntax differs more from that of the
works hitherto ascribed to him than the latter does from that
of Commines. Many of the divergences can doubtless be
ascribed to the copyists, but after making all consideration
for this, enough differences remain to make it decidedly im-
probable that La Sale had any hand in the composition of
the Quinze Joyes and the Cent Nouvelles. Moreover the
manuscripts on which our editions are based date from the
same decade of the fifteenth century, and were all written
during La Sale's lifetime. Is it likely that an author who
paid so much attention to style2 in Saintre would allow works
of such different syntax to be given to the world, even
anonymously? In any case, it must now be admitted that
the burden of proof lies with those who still assert La Sale's
authorship.
1 The most noteworthy differences in usage are those which affect the
partitive article, the subject pronouns, the tonic object pronouns, the demon-
strative pronouns, the reflexive verbs, the rules for agreement of verbs and
perfect participles, the negative adverbs, and the word-order.
2 Cf. Kavnaud, Rmnania, XXXI, 538 ff.
500 WILLIAM PIERCE SHEPARD.
The question as to date is more difficult. Generally speak-
ing, Saintr6 is more conservative, has preserved more fully
the Old French usage than either of the other works. I
have enumerated the syntactical traits in which a marked
divergence is to be observed. They number eighty-two : of
them, the Quinze Joyes is most conservative in twelve,1 the
Cent Nouvelles in eight,2 leaving the great majority, sixty-
two, in favor of /Saintre. At all events, the study of the
syntax does not confirm the views of the author of Une
Ufaigme litteraire as to the date of the Quinze Joyes. Syn-
tactically, that work can hardly belong to the fourteenth
century. The comparisons with Deschamps' usage demon-
strate this clearly. The syntax of Saintr6 agrees on the
whole most closely with that of Chartier, that of the other
works with that of Commines. This fact may be explained,
I think, by remembering that La Sale wrote Saintr£ when
advanced in years, and was evidently much influenced by
the preceding courtly literature. The syntax then permits
the assertion that Saintr6 is the older work ; as concerns the
relative age of the Quinze Joyes and the Cent Nouvettes, it
hardly allows a definite conclusion.
WILLIAM PIERCE SHEPARD.
1 Namely, in the use of the indefinite article, the interrogative inversion
of pronouns, the indicative in concessive clauses, the imperfect subjunctive
in conditional sentences, and the employment of the forms que que, adverbial
mais, trop, endroit, environ, o, puisque, and lack of beaucoup.
'2 Namely, in the use of relatives, of neuter interrogatives, of the indefi-
nites quant, tant, the word-order of object pronouns, and the forms nesun,
rien, and meshuy.
THE SYNTAX OF ANTOINE DE LA SALE. 501
NOTE. — The preceding pages were given to the printer before I received
the conclusion of C. Haag's paper, Antoine de la Sale und die ihm zuge-
schreibenen Werke, Archivfiir das Studium der neueren Sprachen, cxin (1904),
101-135, 315-351. Haag's results, based on a study of the intellectual and
moral characteristics, the style and spirit, of the three works, are essentially
the same as mine. He holds likewise that La Sale cannot be the author of
the Quinze Joyes and the Cent Nouvelles, though he thinks that the author
of the latter may have had some personal or literary relations with him.
ABBREVIATIONS AND WORKS CITED.
P: Le Petit Jehan de Saintre, edition Helle'ny, Paris, 1890.
Q : Les Quinze Joyes de Manage, edition Jannet, Paris, 1857.
C: Les Cent Nouvelles Nouvettes, edition Wright, Paris, 1857-58.
O. F. : Old French.
M. F. : Middle French (centuries xv-xvi).
N. F. : New French.
Schmidt, Syntactische Studien iiber die Cent NouveUes Nouvelles ( Zurich Diss. ),
Frauenfeld, 1888.
Diez, Romanische Grammatik, 5te Auflage, Bonn, 1882.
M-L: Meyer-Liibke, Romanische Grammatik, 3ter Band, Syntax, Leipzig,
1899.
Miitzner, Franzosische Grammatik, 3te Auflage, Berlin, 1885.
Tobler, VS. = Vermischte Seitrdge zur franzb'sischen Grammatik : lte Reihe,
2te Auflage, Leipzig, 1902 ; 2*e Reihe, 1894 ; 3** Reihe, 1899.
Darmesteter, Le seizieme Stecle en France, par Darmesteter et Hatzfeld, Paris,
1887.
Darmesteter-Sudre, Cours de grammaire historique de la langue francaise,
Paris, 1898.
Haase, Syntaxe fran$aise du XVII stide, traduite par M. Obert, Paris, 1898.
Haase, V. und J. = Syntaktische Untersuchungen zu Villehardouin und Join-
viUe, Berlin, 1884.
Haase, Gamier = Zu,r Syntax Robert Gamiers, Franz. Studien, V, 1 ff.
Voll, Das Personal- und Relativpi-onomen in den Balades de Moralitez des
Eustache Deschamps (Munich Diss. ), Freising, 1896.
Bode, Syntaktische Studien zu Eustache Deschamps (Leipzig Diss.), Leipzig,
1900.
Eder, Syntaktische Studien zu Alain Chartiers Prosa, Wiirzburg, 1889.
Toennies, La Syntaxe de Commines, Berlin, 1876.
Stimming, Die Syntax des Commines, Zs. f. rom. Phil., I, pp. 191 ff., 489 ff.
Huguet, Etude sur la syntaxe de Rabelais, Paris, 1894.
Gellrich, Remarques sur I'emploi de Particle en vieux francais (Leipzig Diss.),
Langenbielau, 1881.
XIV.— PAL^MON AND ARCYTE, PROGNE, MARCUS
GEMINUS, AND THE THEATRE IN WHICH
THEY WERE ACTED, AS DESCRIBED
BY JOHN BEREBLOCK (1566).
I.
In 1887 Mr. Charles Plummer in his Elizabethan Oxford1
reprinted from various sources several records of Queen
Elizabeth's visit to Oxford in 1566. This visit was a great
event for town and university, especially since Oxford wished
to outdo the welcome which Cambridge had given the Queen
on a similar occasion two years before. Consequently the
various ceremonies, stage-plays, and disputations of her five
days' stay at Oxford were carefully chronicled. The most
enthusiastic of the chroniclers was a certain John Bereblock,
whose Latin Commentarii2 is a most detailed and valuable
record. In the course of this commentary Bereblock makes
large and interesting additions to our knowledge of three
lost plays, Marcus Geminus, the Palcemon and Arcyte of
Richard Edwards, and the Progne of Dr. James Calfhill^
all of which were acted during the Queen's visit. He also
gives an important description of the manner in which
plays were staged at the universities. One need only com-
pare Bereblock's account of Palcemon and Arcyte with the
commonly quoted account that is found in Anthony d Wood's
1 Oxford Historical Society, Oxford, 1887.
2 The full title reads as follows : ' ' Commentarii sivi Ephemerce ActionesRerum
Illustrum Oxonii Gestarum In Adventu Serenissimce Principis ElizabetJuR. Ad
Amplissimos Viros Dominum Gulielmum Brokum, Dominum de Cobham,
et Dominum Gulielmum Petreum, Kegium a sanctioribus secretis Consili-
arium. Per J. B. Collegii ibidem Exoniensis socium. ' ' For an account
of Bereblock's life see Plummer, p. xvi.
502
PAL^EMON AND ARCYTE, PROGNE, MARCUS GEMINU8. 503
AtJience Oxonlensis 1 to see how greatly superior Berebloek's
is as a synopsis of the play. The other two plays are of
less interest, but Bereblock is the only writer who has
handed down to us any summary of them.
His work was first printed by Hearne2 in 1729; yet
valuable as it is, it has been strangely overlooked by students
of pre-Shakespearian drama, even since its republication by
Mr. Plummer. It has seemed worth while, therefore, to
translate those parts of Bereblock's Commentarii that deal
with the plays and with the " theatre " in which they were
presented. Extracts have also been taken from the work
of two other chroniclers of the Queen's visit. These two
are Nicholas Robinson,3 who writes in Latin, and Richard
Stephens,4 author of a very brief commentary in English.
1 Edition of 1813, vol. 1, col. 353. A slightly different account printed
from Wood's manuscript corrected by Mr. Gough is found in Nichols'
Progresses of Queen Elizabeth, London, 1823, vol. i, pp. 210-211 and pp.
212-213.
2 This and other antiquarian papers were published along with his edi-
tion of the History of the life and reign of Richard II by the Monk of Evesham,
Oxford, 1729. The manuscript had been given Hearne by Thomas Ward,
of Warwick, Esq. From Hearne it was reprinted by Nichols in the first
edition of the Progresses, but was not retained in the edition of 1823.
3 Robinson, then Bishop of Bangor, was a Cambridge man. He was
present at the Queen's visit at Cambridge in 1564, and wrote an account of
that also. The Oxford account was first printed by Nichols in his Progresses.
4 Stephens' "Brief Rehearsall of all such Things as were done In The
University Of Oxford During The Queen's Majesty's Abode There," was
an ' ' Extract Drawn Out Of A Longer Treatise Made by Mr. Neale, Reader
of Hebrew At Oxford" (quotations from the title-page). Of Neale' s
original work there seems to be no trace. Mr. Plummer says (p. xvii,
note 3), that in his opinion Neale' s work must be practically embodied in
Wood's account of this visit in the History and Antiquities (Ed. Gutch, ii,
pp. 154 ff. ), since this account agrees closely and even verbally with that
of Stephens ; and since the scribe who made the Harleian Copy of the latter
omits the report of the Queen's speech to the University, saying it is almost
exactly the same as printed in Wood's Hist, et Antiq. Univ. Oxon. The
" Brief Rehearsall" was first printed by Nichols in his Progresses, but was
not retained in the second edition.
504 W. Y. DURAND.
In comparison with Bereblock it will be seen that they give
little or no summary of the plots, though Robinson records
some details of authorship, composition, and source not
mentioned by the other two. In the last part of the paper
I have brought together and discussed a few suggestive
points about the plays, and have also spoken of the condi-
tions under which plays were acted in the great halls of the
universities, as throwing light on the question of the genesis
of the first permanent theatre.
The translations attempt to render the sense of the Latin
without smoothing away the extravagances and peculiarities
of the style. In places, especially in Bereblock, the mean-
ing is obscure and it may have been guessed wrongly.
Bereblock's style, in marked contrast with Robinson's, is
inflated and grandiloquent, and this fact must be taken into
consideration in judging his comments. He seems to be
painstaking, however ; and he certainly is copious in his
accounts, not only of the plays, but of the disputations and
the many other events and arrangements of the Queen's
visit. Nothing like his description of the stage conditions
is given by either Robinson or Stephens.
II.
CONDITIONS UNDER WHICH PLAYS WERE PRESENTED :
FROM THE LATIN OF BEREBLOCK.1
"At nightfall a most splendid play was presented, which
to those who had looked forward to it all day at leisure was
a crowning recompense in its brilliance. Nothing, now,
more costly or magnificent could be imagined than its stag-
ing and arrangement. In the first place there was a
xHearne, pp. 263-264. Plummer, pp. 123-124.
PAL.iEMON AND ARCYTE, PROGNE, MARCUS GEMINUS. 505
remarkable proscenium there, with an approach thrown open
from the great solid wall ; and from it a hanging wooden
bridge, supported also by props, is stretched across to the
great hall of the college by means of a small, highly burnished
cable running through the cross pieces, the whole being
adorned with festal garlands and with an embossed and
painted canopy. Through this bridge, without commotion
and without contact with the pressing crowd, the Queen
might hasten by an easy ascent to the play, when it was
ready. The hall was panelled with gilt, and the roof inside
was arched and frescoed (laqueari aurato, et pivto arcuatoque
introrsus tedo) ; in its size and loftiness you would say that
it copied after the grandeur of an old Roman palace, and
in its magnificence that it imitated some model of antiquity.
"In the upper part of the hall, where it looks to the
west, a stage is built, large and lofty, and many steps high.
Along all the walls balconies and scaffoldings were con-
structed ; these had many tiers of better seats, from which
noble men and women might look on, and the people could
get a view of the plays from round about. Cressets, lamps,
and burning candles made a brilliant light there. With so
many lights arranged in branches and circles, and with so
many torches, here and there, giving forth a flickering gleam
of varying power, the place was resplendent; so that the
lights seem to shine like the day and to aid the splendor
of the plays by their very great brightness. On each side
of the stage magnificent palaces and well equipped houses
are built up for the actors in the comedies and for the
masked persons (commcedis ac personatis). On high a seat
had been fixed, adorned with cushions and tapestries and
covered with a golden canopy ; this was the place made
ready for the Queen. But she, indeed, was certainly not
present on this night."
506 W. Y. DURAND.
MARCUS GEMINUS: FROM THE LATIN OF BEREBLOCK.1
[Sunday, Sept. 1, 1566.]
"When, now, everything had been prepared in this
fashion, and the house was filled comfortably full, straight-
way we could see on the stage Geminus Campanus, whom
Duillius and Cotta (on account of their hatred and unscrupu-
lous rivalry) accuse before Alexander Severus. Slaves,
farmers, and peasants, corrupted by bribes, are introduced
as witnesses. Nothing could be more laughable than to
observe them, exulting vulgarly in their certain success, now
quarreling about the punishment of Geminus, now wrang-
ling over the sharing of his property ; and then to see them
deploring their (suum, his ?) 2 bad luck with lamentings and
tears like women. When this scene had been sufficiently
acted out, freedmen of a more honorable stamp are finally
brought forward, — men who could not be induced by threats
or rewards to make a wrongful accusation. So by their
writings, their testimony, witness and examination, the con-
spiracy was made clear. The slaves therefore, formerly
iHearne, p. 264. Plummer, pp. 124-125.
2 If suum means their, which is the common construction, then this clause
anticipates a later part of the action of the play : and the clause "when
this scene had been sufficiently acted out," refers only to the accusation of
Geminus and the confidence of his accusers. After this the more honorable
freedmen were brought in, the accusers were nonplussed, and then their
lamentations, and deplorings, and tears made a laughable contrast to their
previous assurance. By giving suum the rarer construction, by which it
may be construed to refer, not to the grammatical subject, but to the subject
of discourse, i. e. Geminus, we get a quite different and more comic situa-
tion. According to this interpretation, Duillius and Cotta are secret accusers
of Geminus. They are wrangling over the division of his property, when
he appears, and they suddenly change their note to elaborate, hypocritical
sympathizing with him for the bad luck of which they are the secret cause.
Then the more honorable witnesses give their testimony, and both the vil-
lainy and the hypocrisy of Duillius and Cotta are revealed.
PAL.EMON AND ARCYTE, PROGNE, MARCUS GEMINU8. 507
accusers, now at the Emperor's command are fixed on the
cross, Duillius and Cotta are deservedly punished, the freed-
men are rewarded, Geminus is acquitted ; and great applause
is won from all. When the play is finished, we disperse for
the night."
MARCUS GEMINUS: FROM THE LATIN OF ROBINSON. l
" This day was closed by a sort of History of a certain
Geminus, which History some learned men of Christ's
College had turned into the form of a comedy, but in prose ;
and they acted it on the stage, in the hall of the same
college, where all was splendid enough in the way of
magnificence and decoration, with regal costliness; and this
was done with the aid of Master Edwards, who remained
almost two months at the University for completing a certain
English work which he gave on the following night. At
this historical comedy there were present the Queen's Council,
and noble men and women, together with the Ambassador of
the Spanish King. The Queen was absent, either because of
fear of illness, or because hindered by other business. It
had already struck the first hour after midnight when this
play was finished."
MARCUS GEMINUS: QUOTED FROM THE ENGLISH ACCOUNT
BY STEPHENS.2
" This night was played, in the Common Hall of Christ's
Church (a fair large scaffold being provided, with lights all
of wax, prince-like), a Latin play, named Marcus Geminus,
at which divers noblemen were present; but the Queen's
Majesty came not abroad all this day."
Nichols, 2d ed., vol. i, p. 235. Plummer, pp. 178-179.
2 Plummer, p. 199.
508 W. Y. DURAND.
PALMMON AND ARCYTE-. FROM THE LATIN OF BEREBLOCK.1
First Part.
[Monday, Sept. 2, 1566.]
"At the approach of night, they came together for the
play that has been made ready. Its wonderful setting and
its lavish elegance had so filled everybody's minds and ears
with its marvellous reputation that a mighty and countless
crowd of people gathered together, tremendously and im-
moderately anxious to see. Moreover, the presence of the
Queen, of which they had been deprived for two days now,
had added such a great desire for it in the minds of all that
the number was far greater and more infinite on that account.
Scarcely had the Queen come in, together with the nobles
and the chief men, and taken her seat on the lofty throne,
when all the approaches to the theatre (this was the hall of
the college) were thronged with so great crowd, and the steps
were already so filled with people, that by their violent push-
ing they disturbed the common joy by a frightful accident.
A certain wall of great square stones had been built there ;
it was a bulwark propping each side of a pair of steps to bear
the rush of the people going up; the crowd becomes too
dense, the rush too great, the wall, although quite firm,
could not stand the strain ; it gives way from the side of the
stairs, three men are overwhelmed by the falling mass, as
many more wounded. Of those who were overwhelmed the
one who survived longest lived not over two days. The
wounded, by the application of remedies, soon recovered.
" This untoward happening, although touching every one
with sadness, could by no means destroy the enjoyment of
the occasion. Accordingly, taught by the misfortune of others
to be more careful, all turn again to the play. There one
1 Hearne, pp. 268-270. Plummer, pp. 127-129.
PAL^EMON AND ARCYTE, PROGNE, MARCUS GEMINU8. 509
might behold two youthful princes, Arcyte and Palsemon,
who had long lived as comrades in their native land, whom
a like mortal danger and a common prison had bound
together, and whom kinship and a solemn oath had rendered
brothers. These two friends fell desperately in love with
one and the same maiden, Emilia, sister of the Duke of
Athens. Here, then, in the case of these men one might
observe that their souls, tossed backward and forward, hither
and yon, and scarcely at peace with each other in prison,
were disturbed with more furious passion, that they con-
tended, and did battle with each other. Why waste words ?
They are held in check by their oath, they heed no oath ;
they are prisoners, they burst forth ; they are banished,1 love
forbids long exile; two days is too long, three days is
unbearable. The princely youth, therefore, heeding not the
penalty of death, returns in meaner garb and calls himself
Philostrates instead of Arcyte. He devotes himself to every
sort of service, no task too humble for him to perform,
nothing so distasteful to his princely nature which by the
presence of Emilia does not become sweet and cleanly ;
without her the most pleasant pursuits are toilsome, hard,
and hateful.
"Meanwhile Palsemon tricks the guard with a sleeping
potion, escapes from his hard imprisonment, flees by night,
hiding in the woods during the day, and at length meets his
brother. Here their common love for Emilia rouses their
strife anew, and it had already caused such tumultuous and
passionate reproaches that they were on the point of fighting,
but forthwith by the arrival of Theseus the fight is checked.
Palsemon then tells who he is, and for what cause they were
fighting ; nor yet does he beg for his life, although his offence
1 The text here has plural verbs (prohibentur, curant, incarcerantur, erum-
punt, exulant), but there is evidently some rhetorical confusion in the pass-
age, for the action can refer only to Arcyte.
510 W. Y. DUKAND.
has been serious. The Duke, softened by the prayers of the
ladies, who just then happened to come up with him in
the hunt, appoints a contest between the princes, and com-
mands them to prepare for battle within fourteen days,
promising the maiden as a reward to the victor. It is
impossible to tell with what delight and gladness the youths
went their way ; and we, too, after having all cried out to
God for the Queen, departed for the night."
Second Part.1
[Wednesday, Sept. 4, 1566.]
" The Queen and the nobles are invited to the play, and
they accept the invitation. All sat down in their places.
Then there was a great silence. Already on the stage
the two knights, Arcyte and Palaemon, were ready at the
appointed day, each surrounded by a very bold array. On
one side was Emetrius, King of India, in whose charge was
Arcyte. A hundred soldiers followed him. As many on the
other side follow in the train of Thracian Lycurgus, to
whose valor, faithfulness, and good fortune Palsemon had
entrusted himself. Theseus thought that the battle ought to
be decided by a single contest, and that the maiden should be
given to him who should win the victory. This arrange-
ment does not displease the kings, nor do the brothers make
objection to it.
" Thereupon marble lists are made in the woods, and three
very sacred altars are built there, to one of which, that of
Diana, Emilia approaches as a suppliant. Here, then, she
1Hearne, pp. 281-282. Plummer, pp. 138-139. The representation of
Palcemon and Arcyte was to have been completed on Tuesday, but was post-
poned a day. Under Tuesday Bereblock says : ' ' No play was given on
this night, because the Queen, delayed by the rather long disputation which
preceded it, could not be present at the play without some risk to her
health." (Hearne, p. 277; Plummer, pp. 135, 183, 201.)
PAL^MON AND ARCYTE, PROGNE, MARCUS GEMINU8. 511
prays for a maiden life and unbroken chastity, but in her
unhappiness she could not make a long entreaty. The
goddess predicted marriage. On the other side Arcyte
sought victory from him in whose watchful care are warlike
virtues. Immediately to him Mars thunders out victory.
To Venus at her altar Palaemon makes his prayer for the
maiden, and the goddess straightway promises her to him.
Here now a quarrel was on foot among the gods. It is
Saturn who settles it.
"Meanwhile each chief looked to the care of the arms
for his soldiery, and, that finished, the blast and blare of
trumpets is heard. Then in hand to hand conflict they fight
fiercely. When at the very first onset the weapons resounded
and the shining blades gleamed, a great shudder seized the
spectators.1 For a time success fell to neither contestant,
and, wearied with fighting, they twice stop to rest ; at the
third onset, when not only the movements of their bodies
and the parrying of their swords, but even their wounds and
blood are visible to everybody, Palsemon sinks to the ground
and lies prostrate before his victorious cousin. All joyfully
shout their approbation to Arcyte and receive him with
gratulations. Palsemon, lifeless and exhausted, having failed
of every hope, was none the less tormented still by love, and
therefore prays now with loftier eloquence and more fervid
supplication, and casts reproaches upon Venus, saying that
he had served her from infancy, and that now she had neither
desire nor power to help him. Venus could not endure his
reproaches, nor could she bear with equanimity to see Mars
preferred over her. Womanlike, she pleads her case with
lamentations and by weeping. Saturn, stirred by her tears,
strikes with subterranean fire the princely victor, as he goes
in his triumph crowned splendidly with laurel. Thus Arcyte
quickly dies. Then there was a funeral ceremony of great
1 This and the following sentence are imitated from Livy, Bk. I, ch. xxv.
512 W. Y. DURAND.
magnificence : he is honored with a public funeral, nobles
bear the pall, the kings follow the bier, and the body is
burned with solemn pomp. Afterwards at the suggestion of
the kings l and by the common consent of all, the maiden is
given to Palsemon ; and this act (the theatre by this time
being very full) was approved by the throng with a tre-
mendous shout and clapping of hands. And this was the
play that was presented on that night."
PALJEMON AND ARCYTE: FROM THE LATIN OF ROBINSON.2
First Part.
"As on the previous night, so also on this, the theatre
was splendidly adorned, where the Knight's Tale (as Chaucer
calls it) was publicly exhibited — having been translated*
from Latin into the English tongue by Master Edwards
and some other alumni of the college. After the Queen's
Majesty had gone into the theatre, and all the approaches
were closed, by some chance or reason a part of a certain
wall (by which you go into the theatre) fell, and it over-
whelmed a scholar of St. Mary's Hall and a townsman by
name of Penny, who were killed on the spot ; and also the
leg of a certain other scholar was broken, and both legs
of the cook were crushed and his face was made almost
unrecognizable with the wounds from the falling stones.
Nevertheless the play was not stopped, but was continued
till midnight."
Second Part.3
" On this night what was left of the History or Tale of
Pakemon and Arcyte was acted, the Queen herself being
present at the representation."
1 Regw consilio. I take the reyio to refer to the two kings, Emetrius and
Lycurgus.
2 Nichols, 2d ed., vol. i, p. 236. Plummer, pp. 179-180.
3 Nichols, 2d ed., vol. i, p. 240. Plummer, p. 185.
PAL.EMON AND AECYTE, PROGNE, MARCUS GEMINU8. 513
PALJEMON AND ARCYTE: QUOTED FROM THE ENGLISH
ACCOUNT BY STEPHENS.1
First Part.
" This day at night, the Queen heard the first half of an
English play called Palcemon and Ardte, made by one Mr.
Edwards, of her Chappell, and played in the common or
great hall at Christ's Church.
"At the beginning of the play there were, by a mischance,
three slain; the one a scholer of St. Mary's Hall named
Walker, the other a cooke named John Gilbert, and the
third a brewer named Mr. Pennie (and more hurt), by
the press of the multitude, who thrust down a piece of the
side wall of a stair upon them, which the Queen understand-
ing, was very sorry for that mishappe ; and then forthwith
sent her own surgeons to help them, but by that time they
were passt remedy."
Second Part.2
"This day, at night, the Queen heard the other half of
the forenamed play, Palcemon and Artite, in the Common
Hall at Christ's Church ; and the same ended, gave Mr.
Edwards, the maker thereof, great thanks for his pains."
PROGNE: FROM THE LATIN OF BEREBLOCK.S
[Thursday, Sept. 5, 1566.]
" This day was the sixth from the Queen's coming to
the city. It gave now the fourth night of our plays in the
theatre. On this occasion a very fine and costly entertain-
ment, as the universal wish desired, is rendered with the
help of all. On account of its elegance and of the magnifi-
sHearne, pp.
, p. 200. 'Plummer, p. 202.
pp. 290-293. Plummer, pp. 146-148.
514 W. Y. DURAND.
cence of the scene, the Queen and the nobles were wonderfully
and very exceedingly delighted. The subject of the play is
given by Ovid in the sixth book of the Metamorphoses.
From there, so far as possible, we will report the story.1
First there is heard distinctly there a sort of subterranean
noise, shut in and fearful. Hence from infernal regions
Diomedes ascends. That was truly horrible then : he foams
at the mouth, he has flaming head, feet, arms, which flame
not with a fortuitous, but with innate, deep-seated burning ;
he himself in truth is only too wretchedly terrified and
distracted with the glowing brands of the furies ; he is driven
to an awful and unspeakable crime ; on his proper home
forsooth he vomits the venom of his bitterness (virus acerbi-
tatis sum evomere) ; he foretells all dire things for the wedding
chambers of his grandsons. But that Demon, so hideous, so
frightful, so deadly to those about him, the furies do not
suffer to stand still very long anywhere ; to the lower regions
again with great wailings and stragglings as if to some
prison-house they force him down. Tereus meanwhile comes
home from Athens, and cunningly and craftily reports to his
wife Progne the fictitious death of her sister Philomel.
Lachrimse fecere fidem, velamina Progne
Deripit ex humeris, auro fulgentia lato.
Induiturque atras vestes,
Et luget non sic lugendae fata sororis.
For Philomel was not at that time without sensibility and
life, but having been forced by violence she had endured the
vile lustful outrages of her brother Tereus, a wanton and
impure man. Nor yet did the daring man stop at that.
xln a second MS. (Bodl. Add. A. 63), which Mr. Plummer used in col-
lation with Hearne's text, this sentence is omitted. Bereblock quotes freely
from Ovid, patching together verses and parts of verses to form his quota-
tions. These more or less garbled verses I have reprinted just as they stand
in Bereblock.
PAL2EMON AND ARCYTE, PROGNE, MARCUS GEMINU8. 515
For the fresh lust of passion drove him on to commit another
mad crime : for he made sure of her silence with bloody
cruelty :
Arreptamque coma, flexis post terga lacertis
Vincla pati cogit.
Luctantemque loqui comprensam forcipe linguam
Abstulit ense ferox.
De scelere hoc possit ne miseranda queri.
Os mutum facti caret indice.
fugam custodia claudit.
"Then she was stoned with stones.1 There she had
instead of bedchambers a stable, instead of supping rooms
a prison, instead of a couch a litter of straw.
Grande doloris
Ingenium est, miserisque venit solertia rebus.
Indicium sceleris filis intexuit albis.
Tradidit uni,
Utque ferat Dominae gestu rogat, ilia rogata
Pertulit ad Prognen.
Evolvit vestes saevi matrona tyranni,
Fortunseque suse carmen miserabile legit,
Et mirum potuisse (silet !) dolor ora repressit.
It is wonderful how she longed to seek vengeance for the
blood of her sister. She goes about therefore to avenge
wrongs with wrongs, and injuries with injuries ; nor is it at
all reverent to add crimes to crimes already committed. So
first of all she planned a device by which she could get back
her sister who had been snatched from her. She feigns the
sacrifices of father Bacchus and attended by many Bacchanals
1 This statement is very curious. In none of the many classical versions
of the story does any such stoning take place : instead Progne is shut within
the stone walls of the stable, as in Ovid, structa rigent solido stabulorum mcenia
saxo (v. 573). Bereblock's words are Saxis turn facta ejus lapidatio est,
which can have no other meaning than that the stones were cast upon her
(cf. Forcellini's Lexicon). Lapidatio is probably a slip in Bereblock's latin-
ity, for it seems unlikely that there was a stoning scene in the play.
516 W. Y. DURAND.
Venit ad stabula avia tandem,
Exululatque, evoeque sonat, portusque refringit.
Germanamque rapit, raptseque insignia Bacchi
Induit.
Attonitamque trahens, intra sua moenia ducit,
fletumque sororis
Corripiens, Non est lachrimis hoc, inquit, agendum,
Sed ferro, seu, si quid habes, quod vincere ferrum
Possit, in omne nefas ego me, germana, paravi.
Aut ego cum facibus regalia tecta cremabo,
Aut linguam, aut oculos, aut quse tibi membra pudorem
Abstulerunt, ferro rapiam, aut per vulnera mille
Sontem animam expellam.
Peragit dum talia Progne,
Ad matrem veniebat Itis. Quid possit ab illo
Admonita est, oculisque tuens immitibus, ah ! quam
Es similis patri, dixit, nee plura loquuta,
Triste parat facinus.
Mater Itin puerum, visu miserabile ! mactat,
Apponitque fero viscera cocta patri.
Ipse sedens solio Tereus sublimis avito,
Vescitur, inque suam sua viscera congerit alvum.
Vescenti Philomela caput cervice resectum
Misit in ora patris, nee tempore maluit ullo
Posse loqui.
Thracius ingenti mensas clamore repellit,
Et sequitur nudo genitas Pandione ferro.
And that play was a notable portrayal of mankind in its
evil deeds, and was for the spectators, as it were, a clear
moral of all those who indulge too much either in love or in
wrath, each of which even if they come to fairly good men
nevertheless inflame them with too strong desire, and make
them far fiercer and more ungovernable, and very different
in voice, countenance, spirit, in word, and deed, from modera-
tion and self-control. At the end of the play, when now
the people with mighty assent had given their applause and
approbation in the name of the Queen, they turn hastily
homeward."
PAKEMON AND ARCYTE, PROGNE, MARCUS GEMINUS. 517
PROQNE: FROM THE LATIN OP ROBINSON.*
"Afterwards the Queen's Majesty is led into the Hall,
where the wax candles had been lighted, because eight
o'clock had already struck. In the silence of this night
there is exhibited on the stage how King Tereus devours his
son, slain and prepared by his wife Progne on account of
her outraged sister, — all indeed exactly as it should be, with
great magnificence, and splendor truly regal. When this
Tragedy received its applause, we retire for the night."
PROGNE: QUOTED FROM THE ENGLISH ACCOUNT
BY STEPHENS.2
" This day, at night, was played in the Common Hall at
Christ's Church a Tragedy in Latin named Progne"
III.
MARCUS GEMINUH.
Bereblock's summary of the play Marcus Geminus is the
only one preserved to us. The play was no doubt of slight
importance. Written in Latin, composed by scholars, it was
merely one of the many plays that constitute the school, or
educational, drama in England.
The history of the title character, Geminus, is doubtful.
What foundation there is for it I have not yet been able
to find. Robinson speaks of the play as based on " a sort
of History of a certain Geminus" (historia quazdam Gemini
cujusdani), a statement which suggests the doubtful place of
Geminus in history. This "History" — true, legendary, or
imagined — was " turned into a comedy," and furnishes one
Nichols, 2d ed., vol. i, p. 244. Plummer, p. 189.
1 Plummer, p. 203.
518 W. Y. DUKAND.
more example of the practice, common even in the first
years of Elizabeth, of making plays from previous plays or
narratives. Marcus Geminus, moreover, is one of the early
comedies in prose (Comcedice, sed oratione solutd). The sed
indicates the unusualness of a prose comedy. Gascoigne hi
the same year was making the first important contribution
to the prose drama in his Supposes.
Just how much help Richard Edwards gave toward the
production of Geminus is not quite clear from Robinson's
statement, but the order of phrasing perhaps justifies the
assumption that his assistance was in staging rather than
composing it.
AND ARCYTE.
Palcemon and Arcyte, the last and best work of Richard
Edwards (1523-1566), is thoroughly summarized by Bere-
block. It may fairly be ranked as a romantic play, showing
the rising Italian influence in English drama. In this it
reminds one of the later romantic comedies of Lyly. To
be sure, its characters and its scene are drawn from classical
realms (like Lyly again) ; but the play is based on Chaucer's
Knighfs Tale, which goes back to the Teseide of Boccaccio,
and the story is distinctly a story of romantic love, as the
author's happily extant Damon and Pythias is a story of
romantic friendship.
In connection with the source which Edwards used, a
startling query is suggested by the statement of Robinson
translated above. Robinson speaks of the play as "the
Knight's Tale (as Chancer calls it) — translated from Latin
into the English tongue by Master Edwards, and some other
alumni of the college." If this statement be literally true,
there are two consequences : first, Edwards must be shorn
of the credit, his by all other contemporary notices, of the
authorship of a play which enjoyed unusual popularity;
PALJEMON AND ARCYTE, PROGNE, MARCUS GEM1NUS. 519
secondly, the existence of a hitherto unknown Latin version
of the Palsemon and Arcyte story must be assumed. This
Latin version might have been a pre-Chaucerian romance,
which is most unlikely ; or a post-Chaucerian translation of
the Knighfs Tale into Latin; or more probably a Latin
dramatization of Chaucer's poem belonging to the period
from 1520-1540; for, if not in dramatic form, the word
translated could not have been strictly used by Robinson.
These are the consequences, if we accept Robinson's state-
ment. It is easier for me, personally, to believe that
Robinson's words are the result of his confusing Palcemon
and Arcyte with the Latin play Marcus Geminus, which was
" turned into the form of a comedy " by certain learned men
of Christ's College, with the help of Edwards. Yet the
manuscript of a Latin play entitled Fabula Militls or Palce-
mon et Arcita may some day be discovered.
Of more present importance than the question of the
source used by Edwards, is the question of his work as
itself a possible source of a notable play of the Jacobean
period. What is its relation to The Two Noble Kinsmen, a
dramatization of the same story ? The various editors of
The Two Noble Kinsmen,1 depending for their knowledge
of Palcemon and Arcyte upon the frequently quoted but very
slender account of it given in Anthony & Wood's Athence
Oxoniensis,2 have asserted that Edwards's play was not a
source. As a matter of fact, Wood's account gives so little
of the real substance of the play that from it nothing can
be concluded either way. From Bereblock's full summary,
however, it is possible to prove, as far as such things can be
1 Littledale, The Two Noble Kinsmen, edited for the New Shakespeare
Society, London, 1885, introd., pp. 9-11 ; Rolfe, The Two Noble Kinsmen,
New York, 1883, introd., pp. 24-25; and others.
* Edition of 1813, vol. i, col. 353.
520 W. Y. DUBAND.
proved, that Palcemon and Arcyte was not a source of The
Two Noble Kinsmen.
I have already discussed this subject in another paper
(Journal of Germanic Philology, vol. iv, no. 3), where the
argument may be found in full. Most of Bereblock's account
of Palcemon and Arcyte has already been translated there.
Other matters connected with the play — its relation to
early romantic comedy in England, its allegorical signifi-
cance, its part in the influence of Edwards on Lyly — I must
reserve for discussion in a later paper on Richard Edwards.
PROONE.
The author of Progne was Dr. James Calf hill, whose life
is briefly told by Nichols.1 Calfhill' s play is a dramatization
of the old story of Procne, Tereus, and Philomela, which is
related by many classical writers, but by Ovid2 with most
detail. From Ovid Bereblock quotes freely in his report, —
so freely, that it is doubtful whether his account of some
points is based on the play or on the poem, much of the
action being set forth in Ovid's verses.
It would naturally be supposed from Bereblock's state-
ment that Calfhill used Ovid directly as his source. But it
is entirely possible that he simply adapted a dramatic version
that already existed. I discover that such a version did
exist, and is now extant, though unfortunately inaccessible
to me. Brunet in his Manuel du Libraire cites the follow-
ing books: (no. 16159) "Progne, tragredia. In Acadeinia
Veneta, 1558, in-4 ; " and (no. 16677) "La Progne,
1 "James Calfhill of Shropshire. Admitted at Oxford 1545 ; student of
Ch. Ch. 1548 ; A. M. 1552 ; second canon of Ch. Ch. 1560 ; D. D. of Bock-
ing and Archdeacon of Colchester, and nominated to Worcester 1570 but
died before consecration. Ath. Ox. C. 163." Nichols, 2d ed., vol. i, p. 230.
2 Metamorphoses, vi, 412-674 (Teubner text).
PALJEMON AND ARCYTE, PROGNE, MARCUS GEMINUS. 521
tragedia di Lod. Domenichi. Fierenze, Giunti, 1561, in-8."
The 1558 Progne is a Latin play, and the 1561 La Progne,
of course, an Italian one (there was also a La Progne
by Girolamo Parabosco, published in 1547, and an unpub-
lished tragedy of that title written by Allessandro Spinello,
at Venice in 1549).1 The Latin play of 1558 was written
in 1464 by Gregorio Corraro, and from it, as Zeno shows,
Domenichi took his La Progne of 156 1.2 Corraro's play
was printed again in the 17th century, and yet, in spite of
its being fairly well known, a Dutch writer named Heerkens,
finding a copy, tried to palm it on the scholarly world as an
antique, the work of Lucius Varius, the Augustan tragedian.
Heerkens announced his " discovery " in the introduction to
his book of Latin verse entitled looms (1787), where he
quoted long passages from the play (to which he gave the
title Tereus), together with the prologue entire. He intended
to edit his Tereus showily, but scholars became suspicious
and the imposture was brought to light.3
I am not now able to lay hands on a copy of leones, and
must leave the investigation of Calfhill's indebtedness to
Corraro to a more fortunate time ; but since Corraro's pro-
logue, as printed by Heerkens, introduces the character of
Diomedes,4 as Calfhill's did (a character not mentioned by
1Fontanini's Biblioteca delP Eloquenza Itcdiana, with Zeno's annotations,
Parma, 1803. Tome i, p. 513, and Zeno's note (a).
2 Ibid., pp. 513-14. Zeno's note (b).
8 For a clear statement of the facts of this curious literary incident, v.
.Lucius Varius et Camus Parmensis, Aug. Weichert, 1836, pp. 118-120 ;
Operette di lacopo Mordli, Venezia, 1820, vol. ii, pp. 211-217 ; Brunet's
bibliographical note under Progne. The exposure of Heerkens was made
by David Christian Grimm in an essay, Tragcedia vetus latino. Tereus deperdi-
tarum XV soror, Annabergse, 1790, and by Morelli in a letter of 1792, the
reference for which is given just above.
4 Diomedes, King of Thrace, is not elsewhere mentioned as an ancestor
of Tereus, but the relationship was naturally assumed, and must have been
easily understood by the cultured audience.
522 W. Y. DUBAND.
Ovid1), there is every reason to suspect a close relationship
between the plays.
It is possible that Calf hill, following the dramatic vogue
of the day, turned the prologue borrowed from Corraro into
a dumb show. Certainly this part of the play might have
been easily presented in pantomine, and the action as narrated
above by Bereblock bears a curious likeness to the dumb
show before the fourth act of Gorboduc. Gorboduc had been
acted before the Queen in 1561, and the pirated edition was
printed in 1565, only the year before Progne was produced.
"The Order and Signification of the Domme Shew before
the Fourth Act " is stated in these words :
"First the musick of howboies began to plaie, during which there came
from vnder the stage, as though out of hell, three Furies, Alecto, Megera,
and Ctesiphone, clad in black garmentes sprinkled with bloud and flames,
their bodies girt with snakes, their heds spred with serpentes in-stead of
heare ; the one bearing in her hand a snake, the other a whip, and the
third a burning firebrand ; ech driuing before them a king and a queene,
which, moued by furies, vnnaturally had slaine their owne children : the
names of the kings and queenes were these, Tantalus, Medea, Athamas,
Ino, Cambises, Althea. After that the Furies and these had passed about
the stage thrise, they departed ; and than the musick ceased. Hereby was
signified the vnnaturall murders to follow, that is to say, Porrex slaine by
his owne mother, and of King Gorboduc and Queene Viden, killed by
their owne subiectes." 2
The similarity of this to the torment of Diomedes and to
the "signification" of his torment is obvious. The dumb
show in Progne, then, — if we are safe in calling it a dumb
1 The only suggestion in Ovid for the whole scene of Diomedes and the
furies is in the following passage :
" Eumenides tenuere faces de funere raptas ;
Eumenides stravere torum, tectoque profanus
Incubuit bubo thalamique in culmine sedit.
Hac ave coniuncti Progne Tereusque, parentes
Hac ave sunt facti." (vi, 430-434. )
s Manly, Pre-Shakespearean Drama, vol. ii, p. 246.
PAL^EMON AND ARCYTE, PROGNE, MARCUS GEMINUS. 523
show, — may have been suggested by Gorboduc ; and at any
rate served to modernize the play and bring it into line with
the well defined vogue of dumb shows, examples of which
are found in Jocasta (1566), and Tancred and Gismunda
(1568), as well as in Gorboduc.
Without access to either Corraro's Progne or Heerkens'
extracts from it, I cannot furnish any positive evidence that
Calf hill made use of the Italian author's play ; but a bit of
negative testimony, to help show that he did not dramatize
directly from Ovid, may be added. In Ovid no moral is
drawn, but Bereblock's last paragraph shows that here the
lesson of the story was not unappreciated. While the moral-
izing may be Bereblock's own, there may have been at the
end of the play a speech exploiting the lesson. This speech
may have had no counterpart in Corraro, but was possibly
modelled (like the dumb show) after a fashion of the time.
For moralizing is put into the mouth of Eubulus at the end
of Gorboduc, and of Edwards's Eubulus at the end of
Damon and Pythias. Gascoigne gives a somewhat similar
treatment of the moral of the same story in his Complaint
of Phylomene (1576—7), a poem which shows a contemporary
interest in the theme. These moralizing speeches, no doubt,
show the influence of the morality plays even upon those authors
who were breaking the pathway to the new dramatic field.
/
THE CONDITIONS UNDER WHICH PLAYS WERE
PRESENTED.
Mr. Ordish in his Early London Theatres discusses the
influence that the early conditions under which plays were
acted had upon the form and construction of the Theatre
and Curtain of 1576. Though he develops an argument for
the influence of the amphitheatre of ancient England in
determining the circular configuration of these first London
7
524 W. Y. DUBAND.
playhouses, he goes on to show that the innyards were the
immediate predecessors of the early theatres. This idea of
the form of the playhouse being an adaptation of the condi-
tions of the innyard is the commonly accepted one. Yet
Mr. Ordish adds that there may have been other influences
at work, of which we have now lost sight. "Nor is it
known," he says, "under what stage arrangements the
player acted when at home ; i. e., at a royal palace or
the residence of the master whose servants they were. It is
probable that the courtyard was the usual theatre ; but we
do not know, and these conditions probably told upon the
arrangements of the playhouse as much as did the formation
in the innyards." l
The narrative of Bereblock gives us just the information
necessary to understand how plays were presented before
royalty and nobility in the great halls, and we can see how
such conditions as are described must have influenced the
plans of the players and managers who ventured the erection
of the first playhouse.
In the yards of the inns, where a play was to be given, a
platform was built out from one side for a stage ; the rooms
behind it were used for dressing rooms and the balcony of
the stage ; the balconies on the other three sides served
for the nobler spectators, while the groundlings held the
courtyard itself. From Bereblock we learn that essentially
the same conditions obtained at the magnificent production
at Oxford. The problem was the same : a play was to be
presented ; and a rectangular space was available for it.
Accordingly, at one end of the hall "the stage was built
large and lofty, and many steps high. Along all the walls
balconies and scaffoldings were constructed ; these had many
tiers of better seats, from which noble men and women
might look on, and the people could get a view of the plays
1 P. 28.
PAL^MON AND AECYTE, PROGNE, MARCUS GEMINUS. 525
all round about." There is thus a close similarity between
the main features of the temporary playhouse here and at
the inns.1 It is not to be assumed, however, that the
preparations for a play in a great hall (as this at Oxford)
were in any way imitated from the contrivances of the
players in the innyards. The very opposite is more likely.
For what suggested to the common players the idea of
using the courts of the inns for their theatre? When plays
were still being presented on pageant wagons in the towns,
the nobles and the court were entertained by dramatic per-
formances in the halls of the castles and palaces. It is
evident that on such occasions special provision must have
been made, so that as many as possible could see. In a
square or rectangular hall the most obvious and easy thing
for this purpose was to build scaffoldings or balconies along
the walls, as Bereblock reports was done at Oxford. Now
1 Somewhat different arrangements were made for the presentation of the
Aidviaria at Cambridge, 1564, ' ' For the hearing and playing whereof, was
made, by her Highness surveyor and at her own cost, in the body of the
[King's College] Church, a great stage containing the breadth of the Church
from the one side to the other, that the Chappels might serve for Houses.
In the length it ran two of the lower Chappels full, with the pillars on a
side. Upon the south wall was hanged a cloth of State, with the appurte-
nances and half-path for her Majesty.
In the rood-loft another stage for Ladies and Gentlewomen to stand on.
And the two lower tables, under the said rood-loft, were greatly enlarged
and rayled for the choyce officers of the Court.
There was, before her Majesty's coming, made in the King's College
Hall, a great stage. But because it was judged by divers to be too little,
and too close for her Highness and her company, and also for her lodging,
it was taken down." Nichols, 2d ed., vol. i, p. 166.
In the plan of the Christmas festivities of the Temple in 1561-2 we have
the following statement, which describes a theatre more nearly like that
described by Bereblock: " The Banquetting Night. It is proper to the
Butler's office, to give warning to every House of Court of this banquet ;
to the end that they, and the Innes of Chancery, be invited thereto, to see
a play and mask. The Hall is to be furnished with scaffolds to sit on, for
Ladies to behold the sports, on each side." Nichols, 2d ed., vol. i, p. 141.
526 W. Y. DUEAND.
when the companies of players which acted at the great halls
looked about for a way to present their plays in public, the
square courtyard of the inn at once suggested itself as offer-
ing the essential features of the great hall. A platform only
need be erected ; the rooms of the inn with their balconies
were adaptable for spectators in place of the balconies with
tiers of seats rising above one another, and except for the
absence of a roof the place was a fair substitute for the theatres
of the nobility. It is, then, entirely credible that the notion
of using the innyards for plays was derived from the pre-
vious experience of the actors in the great halls.
This view suggests at once that just as the manner of
dramatic presentations before the nobles and the court led to
the use of the innyards for a substitute, so the conditions in
the great halls must have partly furnished the model for the
first permanent public theatre — the Theatre of 1576.
This view has greater weight from the fact that the drama
of England during the early years of Elizabeth's reign was
coming more and more under the patronage of the schools,
the nobles, and the court. So far as we know, almost every
significant play between 1558 and 1576 was enacted under
the auspices of the universities or the court.1 Burbage and
his company, who established the Theatre and played in it,
were the Earl of Leicester's men ; thus those who planned
and built the first playhouse were undoubtedly quite as familiar
with the conditions at the castles and palaces as with those
at the Talbot, or Boar's Head, or the other inns. In setting
about the construction of a permanent building for plays
1 It is sufficient to mention Ferrex and Porrex at the Inner Temple, Apius
and Virginia by Westminster scholars, Julius Sesyar (?) at Court, Jocasta
at Gray's Inn, Damon and Pythias at Westminster, Pal&mon and Arcyte at
Oxford, Roister Doister by school boys, Gammer Gurton's Needle at Cam-
bridge, Supposes at Gray's Inn.
PALJEMON AND ARCYTE, PROGNE, MARCUS GEMINUS. 527
they naturally did not neglect to consider suggestions from
the best temporary theatres England afforded — those of the
palaces and universities. In playing at the inns they had
had to take things as they found them ; they could not have
afforded, nor would they have been allowed by the inn-
keepers, to build up such arrangements as were possible to
the wealthy and great. In putting up a permanent structure,
however, they naturally combined the best features of both
these kinds of improvised theatres, — the balcony with many
tiers of seats from the palace hall, and the additional second
balcony suggestrd by the two or three stories of the inn.
The innyard, open to the air above, no doubt taught that
the theatre could be less expensively built without a roof
and still give the crowd in the pit as much comfort as it
was accustomed to ; while the balconies modelled after those
of the halls were more commodious and convenient to see
from than those of the inns. Thus every main feature of
the early playhouse can be traced to the conditions either
of the hall or the innyard. If we assume, as has hitherto
been done, that the Theatre was a development from the inn-
yard alone, it must be granted that Burbage made notable
improvements on his model ; but when we conceive this
double origin of the Theatre, it is at once seen that it was
merely the embodiment in permanent form of things already
familiar. Even the curved or octagonal form of the Theatre,
which has been pointed to as a great advance over the square
innyard, may very well have been borrowed from the shape
of the balconies used in the great halls. Why should they
not have been curved or cut off at the corners? Why
should the credit for the idea (which is after all a very
obvious one) of rounding off the inconvenient corners be
given to James Burbage rather than to some one of the
nameless carpenters at the court who for years had been
528 W. Y. DURAND.
facing the same problem of how to make a theatre out of a
rectangular space? At any rate, the conditions which pre-
vailed at the dramatic performances of the universities and
the court can no longer be overlooked in seeking the genesis
of the public theatre. They must be granted to be an equal
if not a dominant influence in its development.
W. Y. DURAND.
XV.— THE HERMIT AND THE SAINT.
In the progress of Oriental stories westward, a movement
which has been, to say the least, far from uncommon, the
means and methods of transportation are usually extraordi-
narily difficult to ascertain. When analogues of tales well-
known in the folk and formal literatures of Europe are
found in the East, it is easy enough to assume that the
parent form of the type was Asiatic in origin ; but it is no
light task to show the successive stages by which the material
passed from the one continent to the other. In cases where
the story was adopted by the Christian church at an early
date for the moral or religious instruction of its adherents,
there is perhaps less difficulty than elsewhere in believing
that it was actually transplanted from the East, since the
lives of the hermits of the desert, those reservoirs of
Christian example, were strongly tinged by Oriental thought.
This latter kind of narrative is well illustrated by the tale
of the hermit who, after years of austere living, discovers
that another man, though surrounded by wealth and clothed
with temporal authority, has become his equal or superior in
righteousness. The discomforture of the good man when he
learns that the essential character of holiness lies rather in
humility and simplicity of heart than in outward show of
piety gives the story point. Though obscured in some
of the versions, it bears evidence that asceticism, even when
it fell upon degenerate days, sometimes remembered the
meaning of true piety. The narrative thus furnishes a
refreshing contrast to the multitude of tales in which morbid
laceration of spirit and flesh are commended at the expense
of more useful virtues.
The characters of the little comedy differ greatly in the
529
530 GOEDON HALL GEROULD.
several versions ; but one of them in almost every case is a
holy man or a hermit, while the second usually lives in the
world. The other differences are only such as might be
expected in the development of a particular theme by
different hands. As long ago as 1856 Simrock discussed
the narrative in connection with its appearance as prologue
to the Middle High German romance, Der gute Gerhard.1
His work was done excellently, though it did not exhaust
the subject. Somewhat later Kohler2 discovered a couple
of Jewish variants, which broadened the field of study
materially and also called the attention of Benfey to the
story. The latter was able to add3 two Indian versions
of the motive, one of them earlier than that discovered by
Simrock, and both closer to the usual form of the tale. In
1880 Gaster printed,4 in the same journal in which Kohler's
paper had appeared, the later of the two Jewish versions
mentioned by him, giving at the same time much additional
information.
There the question rested, as far as I know, until 1902,
when I treated the story briefly in my dissertation5 with
reference to a variant from the north of England. Un-
happily, I did not then know the previous studies in the
theme and so dealt for the most part with legendary material
which I found independently. In the same year Men6ndez
Pidal, on his reception into the Spanish Academy, took the
theme as the subject of his address 6 in treating the sources
1 Der gute Gerhard und die dankbaren Todten, 1856.
2 Zum guten Gerhafd, Germania (1867) xn, pp. 55-60. Reprinted in
Kleinere Schriften, 1890, i, pp. 32-38.
3 Zum guten Gerhard, Germania XII, pp. 310-318.
4 Znir Quettenkunde deutscher Sagen und Marchen, Germania XXV, pp. 274-
285.
5 The North-English Homily Collection, 1902, pp. 73-75.
6 Discursos leidos ante la Meal Academia Espanola en la Reception publica de
D. Ramon Menendez Pidal, 1902, pp. 5-65. Dr. S. Griswold Morley of
Harvard drew my attention to this monograph and added to his kindness
by lending me his copy.
THE HERMIT AND THE SAINT. 531
of a play by Tirso de Molina. This discourse contains the
most adequate account of the tale that has yet been made.
The author sketches its wanderings with his accustomed
brilliance and erudition, adding several variants which were
before unknown. My only excuse for treating the subject
again is the fact that MenSndez Pidal for some reason
neglected the material in Simrock's book, and that the
versions which I myself have found throw new light on
certain features of the migration of the theme.
The oldest variant that has yet been discovered is found
in the Sanskrit epic Mahdbhdrata,1 of which the approximate
date in its earliest form is the fifth century B. c.2 A short
summary will be sufficient for our purpose, since the homi-
letics with which this early form is plentifully garnished
could, of necessity, not pass into the popular versions told in
other lands. It must also be regarded as extremely unlikely
that so highly developed a literary form as this of the
Mahdbhdrata became the progenitor by lineal descent of
the folk-tales dealing with the theme, which are scattered
over the world, unless, indeed, by means of popular analyses
derived from the epic.
A virtuous brahman, named Kaucika, once stood under a
tree, reciting the Vedas, when a crane let fall its droppings
upon him. In anger he cursed the bird, so that it fell dead
to the earth. He then went to a village to ask alms and
was kept waiting by a woman, who turned from him to
attend to the wants of her husband. He became angry at
this and asked her whether she was ignorant of the honor
due to brahmans and of their power. The woman answered :
" I am no crane, O first of the brahmans." Whereupon, she
read him a lecture on her own duty as a wife and his as a
1ra, vv. 13652-14115. Analyzed by Benfey, Germania xn, pp. 311-316,
and by Men&idez Pidal, pp. 11-17.
2 Macdonell, Sanskrit Literature, 1900, p. 285.
532 GORDON HALL GEROULD.
brahman and told him to seek true virtue in the person of
a hunter at Mithila. The brahman found this man in a
slaughter-house, selling game and buffalo meat. The hunter
informed him that his coming had been foreseen by himself
and invited him to his house, where he treated him with all
courtesy. To the brahman's protest against his carrying on
so vile a trade, the hunter responded that it was his duty,
that he cared for his old parents with reverence, spoke the
truth, fostered no malice, gave what alms he could, and
lived with manly integrity. He then showed his parents
and how well he cared for them. Turning on the brahman,
he pointed out to him that in leaving his parents without
comfort in their age he acted selfishly and should return
to care for them. This the converted brahman proceeded
to do.
The story of the brahman was copied in the collection of
tales entitled Qukasaptati,1 which was made about 1070 A. D.2
This form is much briefer than the other but, as far as is
evident from the summary which I follow, changes no feature
of the tale except to relate that the hunter actually fed his
parents while giving the brahman an exposition of his duty.
The names are, of course, changed throughout.
An entirely different tale, which yet has sufficient likeness
to ours to be worth noting is found in the Ramayana,* an
epic now regarded as later than the Mahabhdrata but as
perhaps existing in its primitive form as early as the fifth
century B. c.4 In this, the king Vi9vamitra is instructed
by Brahma that a holy life is better than war and lives as a
hermit. His self-righteousness in this estate is rebuked, and
by successive stages of a thousand years he is brought to the
1 Analyzed by Benfey, Germania xrr, pp. 317, 318.
'Macdonell, p. 376.
3 Book i. Analyzed by Simrock, pp. 40-42.
* Monier- Williams, Indian Epic Poetry, p. 3 ; Macdonell, p. 309.
THE HERMIT AND THE SAINT. 533
holiness of a brahman. The point of this narrative is
altogether different from that of the other, but it tallies with
the moral of at least two European variants, which will be
discussed below.
Whatever the ultimate source of the theme, whether it
was started on its wandering career by the Mahabharata or,
as seems more probable, by the folk-tale which the epic used,
it next appears in western Asia with certain highly signifi-
cant variations in its form. That it passed from India to
Persia before the Sassinidian empire was destroyed by the
Mohammedans in 641 A. D. cannot reasonably be doubted,
though there is only the evidence of probability that it
existed in Pahlavi.1 Persia of the middle period was
certainly a great distributor of tales ; and ours next appears
among the Mohammedans and Jews, whose relations with
Persia were those of antagonists and neighbors.
Two Arabian and two Hebrew variants have thus far
been discovered. Three of these fall into a group by them-
selves and closely resemble the story in the Mahdbhdrata,
while the fourth, though markedly dissimilar to the other
Oriental forms, is strikingly like the prevailing European
type. Let us first consider the group which I have
mentioned.
This includes one Arabian story and the two Hebrew
forms, of which the Arabian and the older Jewish variants
correspond in all essential traits, except that the names have
been changed. An analysis of the Arabian 2 will therefore
suffice. On Mount Sinai Moses asks Allah who will be his
companion in Paradise and is told through an angel to go to
1 See Mendndez Pidal, pp. 17-20, for an admirable rapid sketch of the
path of the tale from India to the Arabs, Jews, and Christians.
2 1 follow the summary of Men^ndez Pidal, pp. 20-22. He takes the
tale (see p. 59) from F. Guille'n Kobles, Leyendas moriscas, 1885, 1, pp. 315-
322, or from the analysis given by M. Griinbaum, Neue Seitrdge zur semit-
ischen Sagenkunde, 1893, p. 291, which do not differ essentially.
534 GORDON HALL GEROULD.
a certain city where dwells a butcher called Jacob, who will
be his associate in the next world. He goes to the city,
finds that Jacob is regarded as desperately wicked, but asks
him for lodging that night. His request is reluctantly
granted. Jacob then goes, into an inner room where he
feeds, washes, and tenderly cares for his aged parents. It
is revealed to the old father, when he prays, that his son will
be the companion of Moses in Paradise. When Jacob comes
out, the observant Moses tells who he is. The aged couple
hear the news and forthwith die of joy. In the older
Jewish tale,1 Joshua ben Illem and the butcher Nannas are
the names of the two characters. As this Hebrew variant
is admittedly older than the one cited below,2 and as the
Hebrew probably comes from the Arabian, or directly from
the Persian, it appears that this double variant must be at
least as old as the eleventh century.
The younger Jewish tale was the work of a rabbi Nissim,
whose identity and date are uncertain. He was either
Nissim ben Jacob, who lived about 1030, or Nissim ben
Ascher ben Meschullam of the thirteenth century.3 A pious
and learned man prays that he may know who will be his
companion in Paradise. He is told by a dream and a voice
from heaven that a certain butcher is the man. He finds
the butcher and asks him about his life, learning that he
gives half of his income to the poor and lives on the other
1 Noted by Kohler, Germania xrr, p. 59, after Steinschneider, Catalogue
librorwn hebrae&rwn in Sibliotheca Bodleiana, col. 588, from an old collection
of stories on the Decalogue. Mene"ndez Pidal, p. 59, cites it from the
Spanish redaction found in M. Griinbaum, Judisch-spanische Chrestomathie,
1896, pp. 92-94.
2 Kohler and Mene"ndez Pidal, as cited.
3 See Kohler, as cited. The story was translated in A. M. Tendlau,
Fellmeiers Abende. Marchen und Geschichten aus grauer Vorzeit, 1856, pp.
110 ff., whence it was taken by Kohler, pp. 55-58. Another translation
was made by Gaster, Germania xxv, pp. 280-282, from Jellinek, Beth-
hamidrasch, pp. 136 ff. See Mene"ndez Pidal, pp. 24, 25, for a summary.
THE HERMIT AND THE SAINT. 535
half. When questioned further, he relates as a special deed
of merit on his part how he once bought a captive maiden
at the cost of almost all his property, reared her in his house,
and was about to give her to his son in marriage. At the
wedding feast, a young man appeared to whom the maiden
had been long ago betrothed. With his son's consent, he
gave her to this man together with the gifts prepared for
the young couple. This, he says, is the most meritorious
deed that he recalls doing. The pious and learned man
concludes that he is happy in having such an one for his
equal in Paradise.
The forms just summarized are alike in changing the
hunter of the Mahabharata to a butcher, and in simplifying
the double humiliation of the brahman to an appeal on
the part of the first person of the tale to know his equal in
virtue.1 The adoption of the motive by peoples whose
social customs differed from those of India sufficiently
explains these changes of detail. The type represented by
the Arabian and the older Jewish tales follows the Indian
original hi making reverential care for parents the virtue
immediately praised. The fundamental precept, however, is
not this, as MenSndez Pidal appears to think, but rather the
lesson that true goodness lies in the humble performance of
duty without outward show of piety. Were it not so, such
changes as those found in Nissim's tale and in most of the
variants still to be cited would be inexplicable. The later
Hebrew variant, to be sure, is not a simple form but a
compound of our theme with The Ransomed Woman, which
is often found in combination with The Grateful Dead.2 The
butcher gives half of his income to the poor and instances
his kindness to a captive maiden as the one act of his life
which merits special grace. The point of the original story
I See Mene"ndez Pidal, p. 19, for comment on these changes.
I 1 hope soon to publish a new study of these related types.
536 GORDON HALL GEROULD.
is not altered, as will be observed, in spite of the addition
of new material.
The same thing is true of the second Arabian tale, which,
though too late to be regarded of itself as a source of the
European variants, is of peculiar interest. The Pious King l
is one of the many stories which were appended to the
Arabian Nights without any claim to be regarded as really
a part of that collection. A holy man, who has lived all
his life in piety, is troubled by the removal of a cloud which
has long overshadowed him. He sets out to discover who
is more worthy of the protection of heaven than himself and
finds a king, who in the midst of outward splendor lives
privately in great austerity with his wife, supporting him-
self by the labor of his hands. Here we have in a fully
developed form the type which the influence of the church
was to make predominant in Europe, — the holy ascetic, the
heavenly warning, the man in authority doing his penance
secretly. The last factor, the transformation of the second
person of the narrative from a despised position to the height
of worldly honor, emphasizes the real significance of the
motive as stated above.2 The story, as we have it, is later
than several of the ecclesiastical adaptations of Europe; but
the source of the story may well have been the ancestor, not
many degrees removed, of some of the very similar versions
in the West.
No less than five of these are found in the Vitae Pairum
attached to the lives of as many hermit saints of the desert.
Their connection with the East is thus not remote, while by
means of the popularity of the collections in which they
were imbedded they became the property of all Christendom.
1 Nachtrdge zu 1001 Nacht, trans, von Hammer and Zinserling, 1823, I,
pp. 281-284. Given by Simrock, pp. 42-45.
2 Mene"ndez Pidal, p. 26, notes that the second person of the tale changes
in the Christian variants, but he does not use The Pious King.
THE HERMIT AND THE SAINT. 537
It was natural enough that the theme should be applied to
the hermits, as Mene"ndez Pidal shows,1 because they were so
peculiarly tempted to spiritual pride by reason of their
renunciation of the world.
The tale of Paul and Anthony2 may first be mentioned,
since the characters are supposed to have lived as early as
the end of the fourth century. Anthony was, indeed, the
founder of the solitary life. When the two hermits have
lived in holiness for sixty years, one of them is informed by
a voice from heaven that the other is better than he. On
investigation he finds that this pinnacle of goodness has been
attained by rigorous asceticism. Here the point of the
narrative is greatly obscured, since the piety of the two
hermits does not differ in kind. Somewhat the same thing
is true of the story concerning the hermit Pyoterius,3 who is
told by an angel that a certain nun is better than he. He
finds her living with great humility of heart and demeanor
a life of extreme austerity. Both of these narratives recall
the anecdote from the Rdmdyana cited above.
In the case of two other tales, attached to the lives of
Macharius and Eucharistius or Eucharius, there is a closer
correspondence with the typical form of The Pious King.
In the first of these,4 St. Macharius is informed by a voice
from heaven that two women are more than his peers in the
sight of God. He visits them and learns that they have
1 P. 27.
2Migne, Patrologia Cursus Completus Latina, xxni, col. 22 ff. Analyzed
by Simrock, pp. 17-21 ; Men^ndez Pidal, pp. 27, 28. The latter refers to
Herolt, Promptuarium Exemplorum, H. 4, and Magnum Speculum Exemplorum,
Humilitas, No. 7.
3Migne, LXXUI, col. 984 and 1140 ; LXXIV, col. 299. Simrock, pp. 21-
23, and Mengndez Pidal, p. 29.
4Migne, LXXIII, col. 778. Simrock, pp. 23, 24 ; North-Engl. Horn. Coll,
p. 74; Mene'ndez Pidal, p. 29. On p. 60, the latter refers to Herolt,
Prompt. Exemp., M. 11, and Libro de los exemplos, No. 145.
538 GORDON HALL QEROULD.
lived in obedience to their husbands for fifteen years without
ever giving way to anger. William de Wadington, it may
be noted, when he retold this story in Old French in the
latter part of the thirteenth century,1 lengthened the period
of good-temper from fifteen to twenty years. In the story
of Eucharistius,2 two hermits learn by means of a heavenly
voice that their betters hi piety are a man named Eucharistius
(Eucharius) and his wife. The result of a visit to the couple
is the discovery that they live together in continence on
one-third of their wages as shepherds, giving the remainder
in charity. In both of these tales, it will be seen, the type
is somewhat changed from that found in The Pious King by
the fact that the exemplar of goodness is not a man in high
station, yet they are closer to it than to the older Arabian
and Hebrew forms in that feminine virtue is substituted for
masculine, or is a partaker of it.
In the fifth of the stories found in the Vitae Patrum, how-
ever, the characteristic trait of The Pious King is preserved,
whence it was transmitted, as will be shown, to a couple
of later tales which complete a highly interesting chain of
narratives extending from Arabia to England. This story
concerns the hermit Paphnutius 3 and is triplicate in form.
The hermit is first told by an angel that a certain flute-player
is his equal in virtue. He investigates and finds that the
man has only lately repented of his evil life as a robber, but
1 See Robert of Brunne' s Hancttyng Synne, etc., ed. Furnivall, 1862, p. 62 ff.
Ee-ed. E. E. T. S. 119, 1901, pp. 69 ff.
"Migne, LXXIII, col. 1006 ; Scala Celi, by Joannes Junior (Gobius), ed.
1480, Castitas 8. Simrock, pp. 24, 25; North-Engl. Horn. Coll., p. 74;
Mene*ndez Pidal, p. 29. Additional references from the latter : Herolt,
Prompt. Exemp., M. 7, and Magnum Spec. Exemp., Castitas, No. 2.
3Migne, i^xxin, col. 1170 5. Simrock, pp. 26-50; North-Engl. Horn.
Cott., p. 74. Mene"ndez Pidal, pp. 31-33, gives the first adventure only,
and on p. 60 additional references to Vincent of Beauvais, Speculum Histo-
riale, lib. xiv, cap. 76 ; Herolt, Prompt. Exemp., M. 8 and 9 ; and Sccda
Celi, Misericordia.
THE HERMIT AND THE SAINT. 539
has acquired favor with heaven by acting the good Samaritan
to a poor woman. The hermit is edified and returns to his
cell. Again he is informed, this time by a voice from
heaven, that a certain protocomes (== admiral or provost) is
as good as he. Accordingly, he visits the provost and finds
that for thirty years he has lived with his wife in some
splendor, but honestly, charitably, and continently. Paphnu-
tius learns another lesson in true piety and departs. Again
he is told that a certain merchant is his equal in goodness
and finds that the man conducts his business as a lover of
Christ should. This story combines the two Arabian types
and adds a third anecdote for good measure. The com-
parison with the converted robber who follows the lowly
profession of flute-player bears an unmistakeable likeness to
Nissim's Jewish tale and must derive from the same source.
The second part is as unmistakeably allied to The Pious
King. Which of the two versions was first told of Paphnutius
it is impossible to determine. The process of reduplication
here shown has been the frequent resource of story-tellers in
every age.
Before passing to the secular adaptations of the Paphnutius
legend, it must be noted that the tale thus connected with
the lives of five hermits of the African desert is told of Pope
Gregory the Great l and of the sainted bishop Severinus of
France.2 In the first of these variants, a hermit asks God
who will be his peer in the life to come and learns that it
will be Pope Gregory. He laments that his voluntary pov-
erty avails him so little, since his glory is not to surpass
1 1 cite from the summary by Mene'ndez Pidal, p. 30, who refers to Herolt,
Prompt. Exemp. , T. 9 ; Magnum Spec. Exemp. , Judicium temerarium, No.
10, from Vita S. Qregorii Papae, lib. 2, cap. 59 ; and Libra de los enxemplos,
No. 51.
2 Surius, De Probatis Sanctorum Vitis, 1618, iv, pp. 359, 360. In part by
Gregory of Tours, Liber de Gloria Confessorum XLV, Migne, LZXI, col. 862.
Summary by Simrock, pp. 33-35.
8
540 GORDON HALL GEROULD.
that of a rich pope. The following night, the Lord asks
him how he dares to compare his poverty with Gregory's
wealth, inasmuch as he is more attached to the only thing he
possesses, a cat which he fondles all day long, than is Gregory
to all his splendor. In the second variant, a hermit and a
bishop are told by God that Severinus is their superior and
equal in virtue respectively. They find that though he lives
surrounded by wealth he holds it in little esteem, makes no
more account of it, in fact, than the hermit does of a wooden
drinking-cup which he has preserved since the days of his
worldliness. This anecdote with its slight variations is little
more than a recasting of the second part of the Paphnutius
legend applied to the praise of two princes of the church.1
It may be surmised that the story about Gregory gave rise
to that about Severinus.
The next transformation is more interesting in that it
brings us into another field of literature, though an adjacent
one. It is the story of the Provost of Aquileia, which is
found twice in Old French. In the first of these variants
the form and treatment are those of a fabliau, though the
subject better befits the conte d£vot.2 It must be classed as
the former, since its purpose was evidently anything but
edification. The second variant, closely related to the first
in content indeed, fulfils better the requirements of the conte
devot and may be so considered. It is the work of the
1 In the life of St. Catherine of Alexandria, the hermit Adrian, who has
lived sixty years in holiness, declares that he is surpassed in faith by
Catherine soon after her conversion. See Capgrave, Life of St. Katharine,
ed. Horstmann and Furnivall, E. E. T. S., 100, 1893, Book m, vv. 855 ff.,
p. 222. Mene"ndez Pidal, p. 61, notes that at the end of the Barlaam and
Josaphat in the Vitae Patrum it is revealed to Josaphat that he will have
the same glory as his father. He believes himself worthy of more, and
Barlaam appears to him to rebuke him for such pride.
2 Du Prevost cFAquilee ou (Pun Hermite que la Dame Fist Baigner en Aigue
Froide, Me"on, Nouveau recueil de fabliaux, et contes, 1823, n, p. 187. Sim-
rock, pp. 32, 33. North-Engl. Hvm. Coll., p. 74.
THE HERMIT AND THE SAINT. 541
legend- writer of the fifteenth century, Jean Mielot.1 A cer-
tain hermit, who for thirty years (in Mielot ten years) had
lived in solitude, prayed heaven to learn who was his equal
and was told that the Provost of Aquileia was the man. He
found the provost riding out from the city with a gay com-
pany and was given a ring to take to the officer's wife.
With her he underwent some very humiliating and decidedly
risky adventures; but his virtue was rather strengthened
than destroyed by his hard experience, since he found that
the life of the provost was really much more austere than his
own. Here we have the narrative of Paphnutius over again
not only in essentials but with so many similar details that
one can scarcely doubt the connection between the two. The
man of real virtue in both cases is a provost. He, or the
hermit, has lived for thirty years in abstinence and humility.
The only really original part of the French story is the
account of the holy man's adventures with the wife. This
is due to the Gallic humor of the poet, who thus sought,
and doubtless successfully, to tickle the ears of his middle-
class audience. The correspondence of titles in the two
narratives would be almost sufficient to prove the parentage
of the Old French version, even if the similarity of incident
were lacking. There can be little doubt, it seems to me,
that we have to do with a story in fabliau form directly
based upon an anecdote in the life of a saint.
The probability of this is measurably increased by the
transformation next to be noted. This is the story of The
Hermit and Saint Oswald, found in its complete form in
the collection of homilies in the vernacular, written about the
beginning of the fourteenth century in the extreme north
of England.2 It was briefly retold in the Promptuarium
1 Miracles de Nostre-Dame, ed. G. F. Warner, Eoxb. Club, 1885, No. 71,
p. 76.
3 In the homily for the eleventh Sunday after Trinity : MS. Ashmole 42,
ff. 155a-156b; MS. Camb. (Univ. Libr.) Gg. V. 31, ff. 97b-101a; MS.
542 GORDON HALL GEROULD.
Ex&nvplorum1 by John Herolt, a Dominican, who wrote in
the early part of the fifteenth century. Here King Oswald,
the Northumbrian saint of the seventh century steps into the
place of the provost. The hermit is impersonally enough
named Goodman in the metrical homily but is called Symeon
by Herolt. In almost every ' detail this North-English
variant conforms to the Old French fabliau. Where Mielot
differs from the latter, the story of St. Oswald is the same.
Thus they agree in such a detail as the length of time which
the hermit had passed in solitude. The only point of
divergence concerns the adventures of the hermit with the
wife, where the farcical situation of his treatment as provost
or king is somewhat more skilfully worked out in the
French. In the English there is also an introductory epi-
sode, an allegorical account of how the hermit's attention
was directed to the superior virtue of the king by watching
two fish in a stream. Herolt has no hint of this, which is
probably only an embellishment introduced by the author of
these popular sermons.
The question arises, — how was the story transferred from
the fabliau to the homily ? It is not told in the ordinary
lives of St. Oswald, yet that it was currently related of him
is proved by Herolt's summary. We must conclude that
popular tradition first ascribed the tale to a well-known
saint, taking it over in the specialized form in which it
appeared as a fabliau. We have thus very clearly the
reversion of a narrative once legendary from secular to
ecclesiastical use. This is the more interesting because the
form of the tale is so little altered in the transference,
Camb. (Univ. Libr. ) Dd. I. 1, ff. 159 b-162 b ; MS. Lambeth 260, f. 46 a-b ;
MS. Harl. 2391, ff. 198a-201a; MS. Phillipps 8122, ff. 118a-122a; MS.
Phillipps 8254, ff. 116a-120a ; MS. Bodl. Libr. Eng. poet. c. 4 (a fragment).
Anal. North-Engl. Horn. Coll., p. 73.
1 Prompt. Exemp., A. 7. North-Engl. Horn. Coll., p. 75.
THE HERMIT AND THE SAINT. 543
though it was intended merely to amuse in the one case and to
edify as well as interest in the other. It illustrates to advantage
the methods of hagiological borrowing, that nothing was counted
common or unclean which could be turned to homiletic use.
The story of The Hermit and the Saint found its way by
another path into the secular literature of Europe in Rudolf
von Ems' Der gute Gerhard, a Middle High German poem
of the early thirteenth century.1 The emperor Otto is repre-
sented as praying to know what reward he shall have for
his good deeds. A heavenly voice informs him that his
pride has destroyed his merit and advises him to take
the merchant, Gerhard of Cologne for his example. The
emperor goes to Gerhard and asks him the secret of his
goodness. In reply he hears a form of the story of The
Ransomed Woman, almost identical with that of Nissim's
Hebrew tale. The narrative is somewhat embellished, it is
true. The butcher has become a rich merchant,2 the captive
maiden a princess, and the lost suitor a prince. Yet, as
Kohler pointed out,3 the story is not essentially altered save
in the opening scene, which is everywhere treated with some
freedom. Where Rudolf found the tale we do not know ;
but he was familiar with learned literature,4 so that we may
surmise the existence of an equivalent of the Jewish narra-
tive in Latin by the beginning of the thirteenth century.
Another variant of our theme is the story told of Richard
Lionheart in the Spanish romance El Conde Lucanor 5 written
JEd. Haupt, 1840. Analyzed by Simrock, pp. 2 ff., and by Gaster,
Germania xxv, pp. 275-280.
2 The only other variant, as far as I know, which makes the second person
a merchant, is the third adventure of Paphnutius. It tallies with Gerhard
in no other way, however.
8 Germania xii, p. 59. Later by Gaster, Germania xxv, p. 280.
* He produced versions of Barlaam and Josaphat and Eustace, the latter
now lost.
6 Chap, iv, Siblioteea de autores espanoles Li, pp. 37 ff.; ed. Knust, 1900,
pp. 306 ff. Menendez Pidal, p. 31.
544 GORDON HALL GEROULD.
by Don Juan Manuel in the fourteenth century. Here a
hermit prays to heaven and learns through an angel that his
equal in Paradise is King Richard. Upon investigation he
finds that the king's claim to divine consideration is a deed
of valor which he performed against the Moors in Palestine.
The opening of this tale recalls The Provost of Aquileia, but
the similarity is so slight that it does not justify any conclu-
sion as to relationship.
Spanish literature furnishes a second version of the motive,
however, which can be traced to better advantage. This is
El Condenado por Desconfiado,1 the play by Tirso de Molina
which Men6ndez Pidal has made the objective point in his
monograph on The H&rmit and the Saint. After his exhaus-
tive study, nothing further remains to be said with reference
to Tirso's immediate sources. For the sake of completeness,
however, I shall summarize the plot and give MenSndez
Pidal's conclusions as to its origin. As the result of a
dream, the hermit Paulo begins to doubt his hope of salva-
tion and cries out for a sign. The devil appears in the
form of an angel and tells him that his fate will be the same
as that of Henrico of Naples. When Paulo finds that
Henrico is considered one of the worst men of the city, he
casts off his habit and becomes a robber. In the second
act, Henrico is shown caring for his aged father, but he is
obliged to flee from Naples on account of a murder and falls
into the hands of Paulo, becoming a member of his robber
band. In the third act, Henrico returns to Naples to care
for his father, is caught and condemned, comes to repentance
through the tears of the old man, and is carried to heaven.
Paulo, on the contrary, is wounded in a fight, doubts the
1 Biblioteca de autores espaTioks v, pp. 184-203. Summaries by Schaeffer,
Geschichte des spanischen Nationaldramas, 1890, 1, pp. 345, 346, and Mene"ndez
Pidal, pp. 35-44. For a bibliography of editions, adaptations, and trans-
lations, see the latter work, pp. 57, 58.
THE HERMIT AND THE SAINT. 545
grace of God though told of Henrico's end, and is devoured
by hell. This bald outline can give no notion of the merit
of a play which Men6ndez Pidal calls l the " mds esp!6ndido
retofio" of the Oriental tale. Tirso de Molina united the
story of the robber flute-player of the Paphnutius legend
with the Moorish version of the story about the butcher who
reverenced his parents, adding thereto a tale called TJie
Apostate Hermit.2 From this material he fashioned a drama
of genuine poetic merit, though sufficiently bizarre in plot.
Simrock treated two other stories in connection with the
theme. One of these, a folk-tale from Baden,3 tells how a
youth, one of the somewhat numerous class who seek release
from a compact made in their behalf with the devil, visits a
hermit and is sent on to a murderer, who is expiating his
sins by terrible penance. This scarcely belongs with the
group under consideration, even though the reformed robber
is represented as holier than the hermit. In point of fact,
it is a variant of The Child Vowed to the Devil, a story known
to medievalists in several forms, one of which has recently
been published by M. Paul Meyer.4 The second story, which
Simrock prints entire,5 is not of much interest for the present
purpose because it is a modern adaptation from printed
sources. It has the triplicate form peculiar to the Paphnutius
legend and possibly came from that version more or less
directly, as indeed Simrock recognized.
GORDON HALL GEROTJLD.
1 P. 10. 2 See Menendez Pidal, pp. 44-48, 61-64.
'From Baader, Sadische Volkssagen, No. 301. I have not had access to
the book and rely upon Simrock, pp. 38-40.
4 Romania xxxm, pp. 163-178. Simrock refers to a couple of variants
in German folk-literature. I have at my command several other folk ver-
sions, but will reserve discussion of the tale for another occasion.
5 Pp. 30-32.
XVI.— VONDEL'S VALUE AS A TRAGIC POET.
Joost van den Vondel is one of the few Dutch poets who
have attained to anything approaching international fame.
To him is attributed a rather noteworthy influence on Milton.
As long ago as 1854 A. Fischel demonstrated in his Life and
writings of Joost van den Vondel that Milton knew and made
use of Vondel's works. Gosse, in his Studies in the Litera-
tures of Northern Europe, pointed out that this influence came
only from Vondel's Lucifer and was restricted to the sixth
book of Paradise Lost. Edmunson, however, in his Milton
and Vondel: A Curiosity of Literature (London, 1885), showed
that not only in Books 1, 2, 4, and 9 of Paradise Lost, but
also in Paradise Regained and in Samson Agonistes frag-
ments are imitated from Joannes den Boetgezant (John the
Messenger of Repentance), Adam in Ballingschap (Adam in
Exile), Samson of the Heilige Wraak (Samson or the Sacred
Vengeance), and from Bespiegelingen van God en Godsdienst
(Reflections about God and Religion). Among the other
discussions the most important are that of Masson in his
Life of Milton, that of Professor Moltzer in Noord en Zmd
(vol. 9), and that of Van Noppen in the introduction to his
translation of Vondel's Lucifer.
It seems that the finality of the results of these discus-
sions is still open to question. It is certainly possible for a
partisan of Vondel's influence to give to the translation of
Lucifer a Miltonic flavor. It is equally possible for the
opposition to point out that the ideas alleged to have been
adopted by Milton were common property. And when it
comes to evidence of the actual identity of figures used, there
is always the unanswerable objection of a common source,
which in this case is the Bible.
546
VONDEL'S VALUE AS A TRAGIC POET. 547
There is one detail in the study of Vondel's influence
which seems to have been overlooked, and the discussion
of it may have a general interest. It is this : Since Vondel's
influence not only on Milton, but also on such Dutch poets
as Anslo, Brandt, Oudaan, Vollenhove, and Antonides van
der Goes, emanates almost exclusively from his tragedies,
why is it that this influence is not dramatic, as one would
expect, but both epical and lyrical ?
Vondel considered himself specially born and adapted for
tragedy. From his first biographer, Brandt, down to con-
temporary critics such as Professors Moltzer and Beets,
Alberdink Thym, Van Lennep who has given the best
edition of the poet's works, and by students of Germanic
literatures generally, he has been considered a great tragic
poet, nay, he has been held comparable to Sophocles, Euri-
pides, Seneca, and even Shakespeare. Dr. Jonckbloet, the
Romance philologist, raised a storm of indignant protest
when he dared doubt the excellence of Vondel's tragedies.
But for this one dissenting voice his reputation as a tragic
poet seems still to be firmly established.
Out of Vondel's thirty-two dramas twenty-three are origi-
nal, eight are translated from the Greek or the Latin, and
one is a pastoral drama, moulded more or less upon the
form of Tasso's Aminta and Guarini's Pastor Fido.
In 1612, in his twenty-fourth year, he wrote his first
play : Easter, or the delivery of Israel out of Egypt ; Tragi-
Comedy presented on the stage for the edification of every one.
It was given under the auspices of the Brabant Rhetoricians'
Guild at Amsterdam. The plot is as follows : Moses is
herding sheep on Mount Horeb. In a soliloquy he depicts
his taste for the shepherd's life, spent as it is among scenes
of nature. He avoids the entanglements of the world, partly,
it is true, on account of his having slain an Egyptian, but
mainly because of his heart's desire. O, could he but deliver
548 F. C. L. VAN STEENDEREN.
Jacob's house from bondage ! The care of his flock has
trained him to be the leader of his people. Jehovah himself
appears and consecrates him an " earthly god." After this,
Moses girds his loins and goes out to encourage the heads
of Israel. Then, having in vain demanded in the name of
Jehovah Israel's freedom, he forces Pharaoh by means of his
miracles to consent to the departure of the Jews. Only the
miracle of the staff changing into a snake takes place on the
stage. The other miracles and the plagues are described by
the chorus, which points them out, besides, on painted stage
pictures. Pharaoh repents and hurries with his army after
the departing Israelites. Then " Fame " in a lengthy ora-
tion, which takes up the greater part of the fifth act, tells
about the interesting occurrence in the Red Sea, after which
the chorus sings a hymn of praise. Moses offers a sacrifice
of thanks, and the play would be over, if it were not for
another and, this time, a moralizing chant by the chorus,
which finally does end it. This chant or chorus gives the
mystical explanation of the play, which symbolizes the deliv-
ery of mankind through Christ from the sway of darkness
and sin. And Yondel hints later that he also wished to
suggest the delivery of Holland from the dominion of
Spain.
That it was Vondel's object to edify his audience with
this play appears from the following passage taken from the
preface. He wishes " that the play be read (sic !) with such
fruits that it may lead to the praise of the holy and blessed
name of God, and that the reflecting upon it may cause the
sad tragedy of our miserable lives to take a happy and
wished for end. Amen."
It is evident that we are here within ear-shot of the
mediaeval miracle play, and I hasten to say that Vondel
soon abandoned this primitive dramatic form. But weak
though it be in dramatic conception and little as it represents
VONDEL'S VALUE AS A TRAGIC POET. 549
the poet, Easter is nevertheless important as a resultant of
forces which characterize his time, which help to explain his
work, and from which he has scarcely ever shown himself
wholly independent.
As has been pointed out, the play was given under the
auspices of a guild of Rhetoricians. In these guilds, of
which there were a great many, the literary activity of the
nation had for a long time been centered. Early ecclesi-
astical influence, then a strong tide of theological protestant-
ism, and certain national traits, account for the fact that the
literary output of these guilds was in the main solemn and
edifying. Now, Vondel being a member of the two most
influential guilds, wrote under the impulse of a deep-seated
and prevalent tradition. This tradition of edification through
the drama is almost wholly responsible for the following
interesting fact. When with the advent of the renaissance
the writing of tragedies became the vogue, the development
of farce and comedy, which had already given rich promise
and to which the people, with their tendency toward the
concrete and their quick perception of contrast, were pecu-
liarly responsive, was for the time being arrested. Tragedy
assumed the role of comedy, viz. that of commenting upon
and criticizing society, church, and state. It is true that
Vondel is superior to all other Dutch poets of his time in
power of expression, but in thought and activity he remains
essentially its representative. As a result, he never rids
himself wholly of the fatal propensity to edify. He goes
even further. In the measure as he develops, he exchanges
edification for argumentation and finally persists in using
tragedy as a vehicle for propaganda and polemics.
This naively avowed purpose of edification in Easter is
not its only characteristic. The renaissance is suggested by
the choruses between the acts, by the substitution of learned
550 F. C. L. VAN STEENDEREN.
for natural expression, by the frequency of oratory, by the
nature of the verse form.
The movement may be said to have begun in 1584, with
the publication by the so-called Old Guild of a book to
which Spieghel, the " Father of the language," was the main
contributor, printed in Leyden by Christoffel Plantyn. It
was without a doubt suggested by Du Bellay's Deffense et
Illustration de la langue frangoise, and had the same object.
Before Vondel began to write, the triumph and prevalence
of the renaissance was already an accomplished fact, and the
romantic drama had during the poet's time no chance of
success with play writers. There is more. Vondel was a
bourgeois : his father sold stockings for a living, and the son
succeeded him in the business. This in itself would argue
nothing, were it not for the fact that caste in his time and
nation was sharply outlined and that Vondel remained ever
aware of the boundaries, spiritual and physical, of his social
position. Now, the principal representatives of the renais-
sance were men of rank and station. Their leader, the poet
and historian Hooft, was an aristocrat of great power and
influence, a Maecenas, and his castle a rendezvous of all the
literary talent of the country. It was through his influence
that Vondel began to learn Latin and Greek after he was
twenty-five, and that he was initiated into the spirit of the
renaissance. As a result, the poet did not, as Corneille and
Racine, look upon the movement with complete self-identifi-
cation and spontaneity. He was led to accentuate the faults
of the renaissance. After learning by heart the Aristotelian
rules, he applied them artificially and from without, not
naturally and from within. And though his works repre-
sent on the whole the most beautiful expression of the renais-
sance in Holland, its tone is too far above the popular tone.
It cannot be denied — and the accompanying table will prove
it — that there was an abyss between his tragedies and the
people.
VONDEL'S VALUE AS A TRAGIC POET.
551
LIST OF VONDEL'S PLAYS.
Published
in:
First Pre-
sented in
Amster-
dam The-
ater in : i
Number
of Times
Presented
in Amster-
dam The-
ater from
its Opening
to the Year
ofVondel's
Death, i
(1638-1679
1. Easter
1612
0
2. Jerusalem Destroyed
1620
0
3. Palamedes
1625
1665
3
4. Amsterdam Hecuba (Tr. : Seneca's Tro-
ades )
«
0
5. Hippolytus (Tr.; Seneca)
1628
0
6. Sofompaneas or Joseph at Court (Tr. :
Hugo Grotius)
1635
1638
64
7. Gysbreght van Amstel
1637
II
119
8. Electra°(Tr. : Sophocles)
1639
1639
32
9. The Virgins
it
1660
5
10. The Brothers
1640
1641
46
11. Joseph in Dothan
it
1640
44
12. Joseph in Egypt
it
«
40
13. Peter and Paul.
1641
0
14. Mary Stuart or Martyred Majesty
1646
0
15. Descendants of the Lion (Pastoral Drama )
16. Solomon
1647
1648
1650
29
17. Lucifer
1654
1655
2
18. Salmoneus
1656
1657
7
19. Jephthah
1659
1659
11
20. David in Exile
1660
1660
5
21. David Restored
it
1661
5
22. Oedipus (Tr.: Sophocles)
ti
1665
3
ii
1660
3
24. Adonijah or Disastrous Crown Desire. ...
25. Batavian Brothers
1661
1662
1663
0
3
26. Phaethon or Reckless Temerity
1663
0
27. Adam in Exile or the Tragedy of Trag-
edies)
1664
0
28. Zungchin or the Wreck of Chinese Rule..
29. Iphigenia in Tauris (Tr. : Euripides)....
30. Noah or The Destruction of the First
World
1666
«
1667
0
0
0
31. The Phenician (Tr. : Euripides)
1668
0
32. Hercules at Trachis ( Tr. : Sophocles) .....
(i
0
If we except his most popular tragedy, Oysbreght van
Amstel, which was during his lifetime presented on the stage
1 Data taken from C. N. Wybrands' Dietache Warande, vol. 10, page 423.
552 F. C. L. VAN STEENDEREN.
of the Amsterdam Theater one hundred and nineteen times,
but owes its popularity rather to historical than to dramatic
interest, the average number of performances for each of his
original tragedies, from the opening of the theater in 1638
to Vondel's death in 1679, is only nine. Five out of these
twenty-two original tragedies can be said to have achieved
some degree of popularity, the number of their presentations
under the circumstances just given ranging from eleven to
forty-six. Eight of them were given from two to seven
times, and nine were not given at all. Besides, Vondel's
plays did not usually command full houses. That the renais-
sance itself was not to blame for this unsatisfactory result is
evident from the fact that Vondel's translation of Ekctra
was given thirty-two tunes and his translation, from the
Latin of Hugo Grotius, of Sofompamas, sixty-four times.
Vondel's contemporary and biographer, Brandt, lays this
lack of success to the door of the storming dominies who,
especially after the poet became a member of the Catholic
Church in 1639, raved against the stage, against Vondel
and his habit of dramatizing biblical subjects. Vondel him-
self charges Jan Vos, the director of the Theater and himself
a successful dramatist, with having given the rdles of his
plays to incompetent actors who, moreover, " came upon the
stage in absurd and threadbare costumes." Again, some
well-meaning admirers of the poet have discovered that the
cause lay in the apparent lack of taste and culture in the
public.
As for the first charge, it may be suggested that play-goers
have never been recruited from the orthodox renters of pews
in protestant churches. ' And one would think, since human
nature does not seem to be subject to evolution, that the
sermons of these storming dominies must have been fairly good
advertisements. Vondel's own charge has been thoroughly
VONDEL'S VALUE AS A TRAGIC POET. 553
refuted by Jonckbloet.1 As for taste and culture, the public
has always been known to lack them in the case of certain
unsuccessful plays.
If from an analysis of the characteristics which came to
Vondel's tragedies from without, through the influence of
the time and place in which he lived, we turn to those
which came from within, through the nature and quality
of his genius and character, our inquiry will naturally
concern itself at once with Vondel's own conception of the
dramatic principle as applied to tragedy. The results of
this inquiry can be stated only in terms of comparison with
a universally recognized and adopted formula for the con-
stitution of tragedy, as exemplified in those tragedies which
all the world agrees in calling excellent. To that end we
must leave out of consideration those conventional and
temporary formula, — such as the unities of time and place,
the five act theory, etc., which had weight and currency
in Vondel's day, — and remember that both the so-called
romantic and the renaissance tragedy were dead by the end
of the seventeenth century, making room for a developed
comedy and the modern drama.
In an age when authoritative precept had such weight
that even the greatest dramatic geniuses were forced to
submit to it, it is to be expected that Vondel, in the
development and application of his own dramatic concep-
tion, was guided by some dramatic gospel. Aristotle first
came to him in the form of a sort of handbook for the
tragic poet, a paraphrasing of that philosopher's Poetics,
which was entitled Dan. Heinsii de Tragcedice Constitutione
Liber and published by the Elzeviers in 1616. There is an
abundance of evidence to the effect that Vondel looked upon
Heinsius as his main authority, and if we can cull from his
1 See Jonckbloet' s .History of Dutch Literature, vol. 4, page 322.
554 F. C. L. VAN STEENDEREN.
book a statement of the tragic principle which is accepted
to-day, it will be perfectly fair to base an estimate of
Vondel's value as a dramatic poet upon a comparison of his
tragedies with this statement. Dr. Jonckbloet made such
a one, and it is in part his statement which I herewith
present.
Very properly the greatest emphasis is laid upon action :
" that is the soul of tragedy." This action must be homo-
geneous and converge toward one point, the final catastrophe.
It becomes tragical through the unexpected, but causally
consequential, reversal of the fate of the principal character
or characters, who are in general of higher station, possessed
of greater power or deeper passion than the average spectator.
This reversal of fate should, in order to create unexpected-
ness and, therefore, interest, be brought about by one who
is related to the principal character by ties of blood or
friendship. Since man is inclined to fear lest what he sees
happen to others may happen to him, the action in general
and the reversal of fate in particular must cause in the
spectator those emotions which it is the object of tragedy to
call forth, such as pity and fear. These emotions must,
moreover, be called forth "purified," i. e., free from the
grief and deep confusion which real events would cause in
him, and based on aesthetic feeling. Besides, not every
personality is most fit to arouse them ; fittest is that per-
sonality who, like the spectator, is neither extremely virtuous
and perfect, nor extremely wicked.
This brings Heinsius to the discussion of the characters
and their characterization, upon which he lays the second
emphasis. He starts from the principle that the weal or
woe of man depends on his acts. The tragic poet must,
therefore, set forth his characters not necessarily according
to historical reality, but in accordance with the requirements
of the action. They must have the proper "mores" and
VONDEL'S VALUE AS A TRAGIC POET. 555
the necessary passions. With " mores " Heinsius means all
that distinguishes one man from another, all that constitutes
his individuality. This individuality must be marked, and
either kept intact or developed consistently throughout the
play.
In the third place Heinsius speaks of the bond that must
exist between the action and the characters. There is no
doubt that there are situations which are strikingly tragic.
If a poet is attracted by such a situation with a view of
preparing it for the stage, he can do so fruitfully only if he
makes the reversal of fate dependent upon the character of
the personage or personages who are the center of the action,
for thus alone can the spectator become reconciled to the
final catastrophe. If the poet does not do this, even the
most tragical situation will be lost on the spectator, and
experience shows that many an excellent subject has been
in this way robbed of all its force and flavor by an unfit
dramatist.
If we accept this statement as being suggestive of the
essential spirit and, therefore, form of tragedy, it is rather
interesting to note parenthetically that we have here to
do with three principles, to wit : harmony in the action,
harmony in the characterization, and harmony in the several
relations between the characters and the action ; and that
these three harmonies correspond to the conventional three
unities. Aristotle's famous dictum that "tragedy tries in
general to limit itself to one turn of the sun or not to exceed
it too much," but that " the epic is not limited in regard to
time " is based upon what he had observed in the twenty or
so successful tragedies which he may have analysed, and is
intended at most by way of suggestion and advice.1 These
Greek tragedies are themselves so limited only " in general,"
1 See Jules Lemaitre : Cvrnetile el laPoetique tfArwtote.
9
556 F. C. L. VAN STEENDEREN.
and the idea is simply that a historical character once selected
for a tragical situation being in the course of time often
subject to change, the time chosen for the action must not be
extended so that it would include an inconsistent change
in that character's individuality. The twenty-four hours
limit, — which, indeed, is not always adhered to in the seven-
teenth century tragedy, — became but a conventional formula.
But the condition on which it is based is real and essential.
As for the unity of place, of which Aristotle does not speak,
it may be partly due to the paucity of scenic possibilities of
the seventeenth century stage, but since one's point of view
towards a situation is always changed by a change of locality,
it stands to reason that any dramatist, if he wishes, as he
ought, to retain harmony in the relations between the charac-
ters and the action, will change the locality of it only when
such change does not affect the bearing of the characters
upon the action. In general he must, and does, avoid the
change.
Vondel's attitude towards the essentials as well as the
merely conventional formulae of tragedy is one of faith and
docility. He neither quarrels with his tools nor doubts the
trustworthiness of authority and example. Like Corneille,
he stands at the beginning of a movement : he is not
paralyzed by the critical theories of a transition period.
The road is clear. How far will his own dramatic genius
lead him ?
In Jerusalem Destroyed there is practically a total absence
of action. There is only narrative, and tedious narrative at
that. The scenes are scarcely connected. At the end the
angel Raphael preaches a sermon, 288 lines long, in which he
explains to the Christian pilgrims assembled what may be
thought of Israel's fall. The play has still less dramatic
quality than Easter.
VONDEL'S VALUE AS A TRAGIC POET. 557
Everyone knows what religious and political troubles
were caused by Jansenism. The question of predestination
or no predestination split Holland into two hostile camps.
Children left their parents, preachers stormed and de-
nounced: there was a reign of terror. The Stadtholder,
Prince Maurice, took a hand in the fight, and the matter
ended in 1619 with the murder on the scaffold of Holland's
great chancellor, the count of Oldenbarnevelt. Vondel was
on the side of the latter, and wrote his Palamedes against
Prince Maurice. The basis of this tragedy is, therefore,
political polemics. The author was summoned to appear
before a court in The Hague, and if the government of
Amsterdam had not refused extradition, the play would
have cost him his head.
The plot contains the story of Palamedes' (Oldenbarnevelt's)
death through the machinations of Ulysses. Agamemnon,
who convenes a court to judge Palamedes' alleged treason
and allows it to be packed with enemies of the accused, is
Prince Maurice. A key to the dramatis personce was pub-
lished by Brandt.
Here is some improvement, for there is a connected story.
But Palamedes takes no active part in what little action
there is, and the deeds of his opponents are not brought
about even by his attitude towards them. We cannot dis-
cover what Palamedes has done to cause all this hatred of
Ulysses. There is no characterization through action. The
fearful nature of Ulysses' vengeance is not justified by
anything whatsoever. Palamedes tells a great deal of good
about himself, and his friends tell a great deal more. Here
we have a venerable old man, whom description makes us
suppose to be spotless, who is unnecessarily murdered by
ecclesiastical spite and worldly wickedness : lying and deceit
triumph in the end. There is no question of punishment
for the miscreants. The play is over with the fourth act ;
558 F. C. L. VAN STEENDEREN.
the fifth is taken up with oratory and narration by persons
who have no connection with the plot.
Van Lennep, the novelist, calls this play a masterpiece,
and points out the wealth of picturesque descriptions, the
life in the dialogue, the richness and variety of imagery,
the power and the elegance of expression. This is like
praising a useless egg-beater, because its material happens
to be silver, curiously and beautifully chased and set with
pearls.
One would expect Vondel's next original tragedy to be a
good one (see Table). The Amsterdam Theater, the estab-
lishment of which in 1637 marks the unification and the
end of all the local guilds of rhetoricians, was solemnly
opened with Gysbreght van Amstel, January 3, 1638. It
has kept its place there, being still given every New
Year's eve. Its relative popularity can, however, be amply
explained on grounds of local patriotism. Its plot is taken
from the early history of the city.
Floris the Fifth, count of Holland, was a sort of Louis
the Eleventh. He destroyed the power of the country's
feudatories in an effort to centralize the government. A
conspiracy followed, and he was murdered for his pains in
1496. The play represents the resistance of Gysbreght,
lord of Amstel or Amsterdam, his part in the conspiracy,
the taking of his city by Floris, and the consequent loss
of his all.
Vondel has with this tragedy given an imitation of the
second book of Vergil's jEneid. It has been asserted in
all seriousness that the play must be good, because it is an
imitation of an excellent epic. The result, however, is that
it is a mere series of epical fragments. Narration again
takes the place of action. What characterization there is,
is again accomplished by description. There is, indeed,
reversal of fate, but it has not been made dependent on the
VONDEL'S VALUE AS A TRAGIC POET. 559
character of the hero, who is again presented as spotlessly
white, innocent, ptire, brave, and a good provider for his
town and family. Floris does not seem at all like the hand
of an all-ruling Providence, but rather like a bold, bad
spellbreaker.
There is one sporadic, but well developed dramatic scene
in the play. When Gysbreght decides to fall fighting among
the ruins of his city, and wishes his family to leave it for a
place of safety, his lovable wife, Badeloch, refuses. We have
here what constitutes the basis of all dramatic action : a
clash of the will and the emotions. Through this clash
and the subsequent action Badeloch develops into a heroine.
It is a pity that this situation is but secondary to the main
plot. As it stands, it does not redeem the shortcomings of
the whole.
The Virgins represents the massacre by the king of the
Huns, Attila, of St. Ursula and the eleven thousand virgins,
near Cologne, Vondel's birthplace. As he had glorified the
city of his home in Gysbreght van Amstel, so did he intend
to compliment the city of his birth with The Virgins. The
play shows still greater faults of construction than Gysbreght
van Amstel, which it resembles in general tone.
The Brothers is a Tendenz-play in which are suggested the
terrible results of the intolerance of contemporary preachers.
The plot is based upon 2 Samuel 21, verses 1-14, in which
we may read how David sacrifices seven of Saul's sons at
the behest of the Gibeonites whom Saul had persecuted.
The Brothers is the first of Vondel's tragedies in which there
is consecutive action. It also excites fear and pity. But
neither the action nor the pity and fear are tragical. The
action would have been tragical, if Saul had been made
the soul and pivot of the action and represented as the
victim of a one-sided passion which leads him inevitably
into the crime of persecuting the Gibeonites, a crime for
560 F. C. L. VAN STEENDEREN.
which the sacrifice of his sons atones, — king David to be
simply the arm of an inexorable Providen'ce in the execution
of vengeance. As the action stands, however, Saul does not
appear, and the sacrifice of his sons is mere murder, brought
about by the machinations of a high-priest, Abjathar, who
happens to hate them. David is represented as a priest-
ridden, characterless king, who covers an underhanded
ambition under the cloak of religion, and aids Abjathar for
fear of losing his crown. All the glory falls upon the seven
sons of Saul and their two mothers. Our pity and fear are
for them, and these emotions are akin to what we should
feel if we saw a man thrown from a high roof in a brawl.
The fear and pity are resolved into a feeling of disgust,
revolt, and injustice, not (as they should be in tragedy) eased
by a feeling of resignation.
Vondel says of his Joseph, in Dothan that it might make
a pleasing impression in the acting or the reading. It is
in fact but a narration in dialogue, a dramatic poem. It
has been given abundant praise as such. It should be
pointed out, however, that a dramatic poem is always weak
as a work of art. Such a poem is like an automobile drawn
by a horse : neither the drama nor the poem comes into its
own, and there is incongruity besides. The drama is con-
fessedly weak and the poem is confessedly not a well rounded
whole in and for itself. The combination of the two is
incongruous, because both have requirements and qualities
of their own, which refuse to mix.
In Joseph in Egypt we have an imitation of Seneca's
Hippolytus, which Vondel had translated in 1628. He
thinks he has improved upon Seneca, because he emphasizes,
more than Seneca, the dire results of unholy love.1 The
fact is that he has repeated the mistake, made in The
1 See Van Lennep's edition of Vondel' s works, vol. 3, page 803.
VONDEL'S VALUE AS A TRAGIC POET. 561
Brothers, of misplacing the tragical situation, which he
almost always finds in the misfortunes of the more or less
passive victim of the action, not in the causes which must
lead to them. Racine calls his own imitation of Hippolytus
by the name of Phedre, and rightly so, because the tragical
situation lies in her being led through her character to burn
with unholy love for her stepson, whose death she causes, by
means of a false accusation, when he withstands her. This
death awakens her conscience and is atoned for by her
suicide. Vondel calls his imitation Joseph in Egypt because
he does not see that the passion of Potiphar's wife contains
the tragical situation, but thinks that it lies in Joseph's
suffering and imprisonment. When Joseph is punished
through her false accusation, she calmly continues in her
ways and starts new love affairs. Vice triumphs again :
there is no atonement.
Peter and Paul and Mary Stuart, which were never pre-
sented on the stage, both sing the praises of the Roman
Catholic Church. As tragedies they are weaker than most
of Vondel's work and may, therefore, be left without further
discussion.
The middle of the century is, however, the poet's best
period. The Descendents of the Lion, — written in honor of
the peace of Mimster, which made an end, so glorious for
Holland, of the Eighty Years' War with Spam, — is a good
pastoral drama. Not only in this, but also hi Solomon and
in Lucifer, he rises to the greatness of a true poet and, with
some reservations, to that of a dramatic poet. Solomon is
undoubtedly his best tragedy. For once the tragical situa-
tion is placed where it belongs.
Solomon, made proud by prosperity, conceives a fateful
passion for king Hiram's daughter, here called Sidonia, and
is by her persuaded to offer sacrifice to the goddess Ashtoreth.
God in his anger allows a storm of misfortune to burst over
562 F. C. L. VAN STEENDEREN.
his head : the prophet Nathan predicts war, destruction, and
misery as an atonement for his crime. " In this tragedy,"
says Vondel, " no blood is shed, but a great soul dies."
It is through the influence of his time that this truly
tragical situation has to a great extent been lost in the
treatment. I have premised in my general statement of
the tragic principle, that a historical character must be
presented according to the requirements of the action, not
primarily according to historical truth. Now Vondel's audi-
ence was, in the first place, well versed hi biblical history
and, in the second place, too inartistic to allow any tampering
with it. Vondel represents Solomon, therefore, as a gray-
haired old man, and this venerable personage falls desperately
in love with an unscrupulous, designing woman, who simply
winds him around her little finger. The situation, through
this treatment, begins to belong to comedy, instead of tragedy.
The tragic principle would have been preserved if Vondel
had felt at liberty to present Solomon as a victorious king
in the flower and vigor of manhood. Then his passion for
Sidonia would have been free from the suggestion of ridicule
that now attaches to it, and would, on account of the con-
trast in character between Solomon and Sidonia, have been
burdened with fateful forebodings from the point of view of
the spectator. These forebodings would have developed
into ttrue tragical fear when Solomon, whipped on by his
pride and Sidonia' s allurements, forsakes the path of Truth
and turns against God. The spectator would have pitied
him in his consequent loss of peace and the wretched suffer-
ing which his conscience inflicts upon him. And when he is
finally crushed by Nathan's prophecy of destruction, the
spectator's emotions would have resolved themselves into
the resigned conviction that after all Truth conquered.
Vondel's I/udfer has been the subject of widespread
discussion, and is better known outside of Holland than any
VONDEL'S VALUE A8 A TBAGIC POET. 563
of his other tragedies. There exist two English translations
of the play.1 Alberdink Thym declares in his Portraits of
Joost van den Vondel that the poet here crowns himself as
the Prince of Dutch Tragedy. By way of contrast with
this statement, it is significant to note that the play was
barred from the stage after two performances. Do Alberdink
Thym and so many other admirers think that the first object
of a tragedy is to be read ? Certainly, as in all Vondelian
plays, there are in Lucifer many details beautiful in thought
and in expression. But how about the play as a whole?
That is the question.
It is now beyond cavil that Lucifer is a political allegory.
It represents the revolt of the Netherlands (the fallen angels)
under the leadership of William the Silent (Lucifer) from
the dominion of the king of Spain (God). The Spaniards
represent mankind and are typified by Cardinal Granvella
(Adam). Vondel intends here to present his, i. e., the
Roman Catholic, point of view concerning the Revolt.
The plot deals with Satan's hatred of mankind, his revolt
from God's rule, and his consequent expulsion from heaven
with all his diabolical accomplices. Who would deny that
we have here excellent material for a tragical situation?
Lucifer or Satan, too, with his one-sided passion against
mankind and his hopeless attitude of defiance toward God,
is truly a tragical character.
It is at once evident, however, that the placing of the
action in heaven has its serious drawbacks. The human
interest becomes indirect. God, an omnipotent, omniscient,
eternal, never changing being, is no dramatic character,
because a clash of his will with any other will is for the
spectator out of the question. Since Vondel is compelled to
insist on such a clash, we cannot have a consistent develop-
1 One by George Santayana, the other by Van Noppen.
564 F. C. L. VAN STEENDEREN.
ment of God's character. Moreover, the historical facts
before Vondel's mind, the success, namely, of the Dutch
revolt and the consequent decline of Spain, lead him, after
the expulsion of Lucifer from heaven (which should end the
tragedy) to show how Lucifer nevertheless encompasses
the fall of man. Lucifer, therefore, conquers God. Leav-
ing out of consideration that this course is out of keeping
with all idea of God, it completely ruins the tragical situa-
tion, for it makes the atonement, the expulsion of Lucifer
from heaven, ineffective. It also entails inconsistency in
the development of Lucifer's character : though he cannot
conquer God, still he does. The dual nature of allegory
wrecks the tragedy.
We have followed Vondel's career as a dramatist in its
rise : it is not necessary to give a detailed analysis of
its decline. Salmoneo'us was written in order to use again
the costly stage-heaven built for Lucifer, so that the expense
of its construction might be covered. Jephthah is an example
of how a tragedy may be faultless in conventional form and
still be written without the genius which rediscovers for
itself the essential principles of the structure of tragedy.
In David in Exile and David Restored Vondel returns to
his earlier manner of dialogued narration. In Samson there
is no tragical situation. Vondel's faithfulness to the local
color of biblical history spoils Adonijah. The Batavian
Brothers is a dramatic poem. Phaethon was another attempt
to use the heaven of Lucifer. Though the personality of
Eve in Adam in Exile is developed with great power, the
play itself shows to what lengths the faultiness of Vondel's
dramatic conception could go. Zungchin could not well be
weaker as a tragedy, and Noah is a return to the poet's
earlier manner of edification.
The great art of drama-building was for Vondel subordi-
nate to what he, Vondel, wished to convey by means of it :
VONDEL'S VALUE AS A TRAGIC POET. 565
the contents were to him more important than the form.
The construction of tragedy, which, besides the skill im-
parted only by a thorough experience of the stage, demands
all the intuition and foresight of genius, he considered as
something that could be learned from Aristotle, Scaliger,
and Heinsius. The contents, and they include a deal of
material foreign to the tragedy in hand, as well as to tragedy
in general, alone got the benefit of his genius. In them he
expressed himself, through them he gave vent to his moods
of poetic indignation, sorrow, despair, hope, cheer, and joy.
The spirit of these moods caused his expression to assume
automatically the lyrical form. The dramatic form was
grafted upon the lyrical and the result is a compromise :
Vondel's tragedies are mostly epical successions of image
groups and scenes, which together represent a story.1 It is
for this reason that these so-called tragedies contain countless
beauties of detail which for the reader will continue to have
interest and charm. For the spectator, who sits at a distance
in order to observe better, they lack the wholeness of effect
which he has come to see. His ears are only accessory to
his eyes. Words as an accompaniment to the action, as a
spontaneous expression of it, or as acts in themselves, the
spectator needs. But when their object is edification, pro-
paganda, philosophical or oratorical effect, his dramatic
pleasure is hopelessly marred. A tragedy is a structure of
infinite compositeness which nevertheless presents a united
front of grandeur and simplicity. Such construction requires
objective, not lyrical, imagination. It demands a sacrifice of
personal predilections, prejudices, and the like, a complete
sinking of one's personality into the demands of the art.
•Of this Vondel was absolutely incapable. Indifferent to
nothing that passed or met him, he took too active a share
1 This is why Milton could make use of Vondel's tragedies.
566 F. C. L. VAN STEENDEKEN.
in the stirring occurrences of his time to devote his great
poetic powers to the development of an artistic combination
for its own sake. He must say something, do something,
oppose this, advance that. His choosing the form of tragedy
for the expression of this polemical attitude of mind shows
that he mistook the nature of tragedy. An analysis of his
plays from the dramatic point of view proves, moreover,
that his conception of its principles and its structure was in
the main erroneous and inadequate, and that, the weighty
opinion of many critics to the contrary notwithstanding, he
was not a dramatic genius.
F. C. L. VAN STEENDEREN.
XVIL— ANTOINE HEROET'S PARFAITE AMYE.
Perhaps the most significant phenomenon of modern
history is the emancipation of woman — the rise of the sub-
merged half. No more interesting and no more complex
problem can be dealt with, and it is well worthy of the
attention which scholars have of late years been devoting
to it.
There can be no doubt of the complete subjection of
woman during the lawless Dark Ages and on during mediae-
val times, when the church pointed to her as the daughter
of Eve, and the cause of the fall of man. Yet her position
was not hopeless : Maryolatry l and the ideals of chivalry must
each have been having their effects.
With the organization of fashionable society in the eleventh
century we find Madonna already the adored heroine of the
courtly lyric of Provence, and later Marie de Champagne is
the literary patroness of Chretien de Troyes. The pinnacle
of the chivalrous conception of woman was to be Dante's
transcendently spiritualized picture of Beatrice.
There was another side to the shield, however, and that
other side is rendered by Jean de Meung. The second half
of the Roman de la Rose presents no very ideal, no Dant-
esque view of the attitude of the mediaeval man toward the
woman of his day and generation. And one is apt to
suspect, if one reads between the lines in many a polished
courtly epic, that Jean de Meung is perhaps more nearly
right than Dante — not as regards the character or potentiali-
ties of woman, but with respect to man's attitude towards her.
1 F. W. A. E. Kerr, Le Cerde <F Amour, Publ of the Mod. Lang. Ass.,
March, 1904, pp. 37 ff.
567
568 W. A. R. KERR.
The cause of woman was only to be won — if it yet is —
by a long fight. Even before the Renaissance, when the
first great movement towards the freedom of the gentler sex
was to take place, individual voices are heard protesting
against the accepted cynical Ovidian slander of woman which
had so long obtained. Christine de Pisan and the Chancellor
Gerson of the University of Paris, who combatted so bravely
against the Jean de Meung tradition, were both of them
early woman's righters.1
With the advent of the Renaissance comes the remarkable
phenomenon of platonism.2 The gospel of the salvation of
man by his love for the beauty of woman — that man by
intellectual intercourse with a refined, cultured, and beautiful
woman was to be regenerated and raised to harmony with
the absolute beauty of God — that man was to see in woman
a beauty which was but the pale reflection of celestial beauty
and from a love of its earthly expression in woman was to
mount to the contemplation of its heavenly original — this is
one of the great thoughts of the Renaissance and one of the
loftiest conceptions of all time.
The doctrine of platonism was first elaborated in Italy,
and though the whole literature of the time is saturated with
1 V. Christine de Pisan, Epistre au Dieu <? Amours, ed. Roy, 3 vols., Paris,
1896, vol. i, pp. 1 ff. F. also Gerson, Opera, 1706, in, p. 297. Cf. also
G. Grober, Frauen im Mitlelalter und die erste Frauenrechtlerin, Deutsche
Rundschau, Dec., 1902.
2 Some recent studies in platonism are :
Abel Lefranc, " Le Platonisme et la Litterature en France a FISpoque
de la Renaissance," Rev. de I' Hist. Litt. de la France, 1886, pp. Iff.
Maulde La Claviere, Femmes de la Renaissance, Paris, 1898.
Jefferson B. Fletcher, " Precieuses at the Court of Charles /," Journal
of Comparative Literature, April-June, 1903.
J. S. Harrison, Platonism in English Poetry, New York, 1903.
W. A. K. Kerr, " Le Cercle d' Amour," Publications of the Mod. Lang.
Ass., March, 1904, pp. 33 ft.
ANTOINE HEROET'S PARFAITE AMYE. 569
it, it is most powerfully preached by Cardinal Bembo and
Castiglione.1
In Italy the battle was early won. Other countries were
to follow more slowly. In France the centre of liberalism
was Margaret of Navarre, the sister of Francis I. The
daughter of an Italian mother, Louise of Savoy, she had
had a humanist education and was open to all the new ideas
of that agitated time. She was a pronounced platonist, as
her writings bear witness,2 and those about her became
infected with her ideas. Even the light Clement Marot,
who writes of his Alliance de Penste, appears to have
dallied with platonism — not really understanding it — as he
coquetted with religious reform.3
There was, however, another man in Margaret's entourage
who was possessed of a mind at once far subtler and far
profounder than that of Marot, and whose literary work
1 Statements and applications of platonism might be adduced from an
endless number of Italian authors ; the following are a few :
Benivieni, Canzone, Amore, Opere, Venice, 1522.
P. Bembo, Asolani, Opere, vol. I, Milan, 1808. The Asolani dialogues
were published in 1505 with numerous later editions. They were
translated into French in 1545 by J. Martin. Book III is devoted
to a statement of platonism.
Baldassare Castiglione, II Cortegiano, ed. Cian, Florence, 1894. The
first edition appeared in 1528 ; many others followed. The book
was translated into French in 1537 by Jacques Colin d'Auxerre ; it
was frequently reprinted. The final chapters (Lxvseg.) of Book IV
are a magnificent eulogy of platonism.
Michelangelo, Vittoria Colonna, Tullia of Aragon, Giuseppe Betussi,
Cosimo Rucellai and numberless others all give expression again and again
to platonist ideas.
2 Cf. Heptameron, Nouvette 24 ; Marguerites, ed. Frank, vol. IV, Mort et
Resurrection D1 Amour; Dernieres Poesies, ed. A. Lefranc, Paris, 1896,
Comedie Jouee au Mont Marson. These examples might be added to indefi-
nitely. Cf. also A. Lefranc, Marguerite de Navarre et le Platonisme de la
Renaissance, Paris, 1897.
3 Cle'ment Marot, CEuvres, ed. Saint-Marc, vol. i, Rondeau xxxviii,
p. 331, and Rondeau LI, p. 338, and vol. n, p. 32, Epigram LXXXVI.
570 W. A. R. KERR.
was to raise one of the most famous controversies of the
century.
It was in fact the publication in 1542 of Heroe't' s Parfaite
Amye, in thought and manner one of the most remarkable
performances of the early French Renaissance, which pre-
cipitated the Querette des Femmes. Heroet was answered
next year by La Borderie with his Amye de Cour, in which
love is reduced to coquetry. The reply to the Amye de
Cour was Charles Fontaine's1 Contr' Amye de Cour, in
which the author sides with Heroe't. The importance of the
discussion may be judged when we remember that Rabelais
was induced to break his eleven years' silence and in 1546
in the Third Book of Pantagruel at great length to deal
with the woman question. That this is the real raison
d'etre of the great satirist's curious discussion as to whether
or not Panurge shall marry has been pretty clearly shown by
Professor Lefranc.2
Some examination then of the Parfaite Amye — but few
copies of which now exist — the book which in France was
the herald of modern ideas regarding the claims and rights
of woman, may not be without value.
Antoine Heroe't3 was born in Paris in 1492, of a rather
important family. The seigneurie La Maison Neufoe be-
1 Fontaine had a habit of taking up the cudgels on behalf of Cupid in
distress : Le Triomphe et la Victoire £ Argent contre Cupido — Lyons, 1537 —
charged the ladies of Paris with yielding themselves rather for money than
love, and Fontaine came to rescue of his fellow-townswomen with a gallant
. 2Abel Lefranc, " Le Tiers Livre du Pantagruel et la Querelle des Femmes,"
Revue des Etudes Rob., vol. n, nos. 1 and 2.
3 For some details regarding Heroe't and his family v. Lucien Grou, ' ' La
Famitte of Antoine Heroet," Rev. de FHist. Lilt., 1899, pp. 277 ff. Cf. also
Lucien Grou, " Nouveaux Documents sur Antoine et Louise Heroet," Bul-
letin de la Societe de PHistoire de Paris et de V lie de France, 1899, pp. 88-
94. The last-named bit of research contains a promise of another article
on Heroet, but I have not been able to find it.
ANTOINE HEROET'S PARFAITE AMYE. 571
longed to his father. Heroet early entered the church, and
with his court influence, for he was a prote'ge' of Margaret
of Navarre, he was rapidly promoted. He became prior of
Saint-Eloi-lez-Longjumeau and in 1552 was raised to the
episcopacy. He died in 1568, bishop of Digne.
Heroet was well known in his own day and apparently
equally esteemed by both the literary factions, by the school
of Marot as well as by the Pl&ade.1
Heroet contributed some verses to the Tombeau of Louise
de Savoie in 1531. Then in 1542 he published La Parfaite
Amye; there are two editions bearing that date, — one printed
in Lyons and one at Troyes, of which the former is proba-
bly the older; 1543 saw two more editions, one at Rouen
and a second by Dolet at Lyons. Almost every year for
a little time after this saw a new edition.
The Dolet volume contains three additional poems :
U Androgyne de Platon — the nature of which is suffi-
ciently indicated by the marginal note : " Cecy est prins du
Livre de Platon intitule" Convivium, vel de Amore, en ung
1 It is evident from Marot, ed. Saint-Marc, vol. n, p. 19, Epigram uv,
that Marot, Sc£ve and Heroet were all teasing the same girl at court.
Marot and Heroet were also the joint authors of a little Chanson — the latter
writing the first couplet and Marot the second ; v. Marot, vol. I, p. 424,
Chanson xu. In Marot' s Eclogue au Roy of 1539, vol. I, p. 39, the play-
fully mentioned "Thony" is probably Antoine Heroet.
Rabelais mentions Heroet in the Prologue to Book V (ed. Des Marets et
Kathery, vol. n, p. 322). The name, it is true, is spelt "Drouet," but it
is altogether likely that it is, as is usually conjectured, a disfigurement of
Heroet.
Bonsard mentions Heroet along with ScSve and Saint-Gelais as being the
honorable exceptions in his sweeping condemnation of pre-Ple'iade poetry ;
v. Preface of 1550 to Book I of the " Odes," ed. Blanchemain, 8 vols.,
Paris, 1857, vol. 11, p. 11.
Du Bellay refers to Heroet as an author whom his contemporaries were
imitating ; v. Defense et Illustration, Book I, chap. VIII.
Other contemporary allusions to Heroet could be adduced, but the
mentions of him already made indicate that though he is almost a stranger
to the twentieth century, he was recognized by the men of his own time.
10
572 W. A. R. KERR.
passage diet Aristophanes laudatio." The Androgyne is
followed by a short poem, entitled : De n'aymer point sans
estre ayme. The last of the three, La Complaincte d'une
Dame surprinse nouvettement d} amour, probably refers to
Francis I. himself.
Besides the work already enumerated there are some bits
by Heroe't in a Recueil of 1547 : Opuscules d' Amour; and
doubtless if the libraries were carefully searched more pro-
ductions from his pen could be found.
We may turn now to the Parfaite Amye itself. The
poem, references to which will be to the Dolet edition of
1543, is put in the mouth of a married woman, "la Parfaite
Amye"; her general effort is to justify the spiritual —
"platonic" — love of a woman for a man other than her
husband.
The Parfaite Amye looks upon her love as of heavenly
origin ; its strong root issues from the divine will :
" . . . . 1'amytie", qui est du ciel venue
Et que depuis i'ay fatalle tenue,
M'appercevant, que sa forte racine
Issue estoit de volunte" divine." (p. 8. )
He who likes may call love sinful, but the Parfaite Amye
boasts, not only is she happy with hers, but if her love had
a divine beginning she has maintained it divine :
"Or semble amour, a qui vouldra, peche",
Puisque le ciel du mien s'est empesche :
Non seulement de lui ie me contente :
Mais davantage aux dames ie me vente
Que si divin fut son commencement,
Entretenu ie I'ay divinement." (p. 9.)
She prefers her affair to be secret — does not care to
publish her relationship. But should it become known, she
ANTOINE HEBOET'S PARFAITE AM YE. 573
would not try to hide it, nor attempt to cause the con-
trary to be believed.
She would remember that the vulgar had no judgment in
such matters, that the blame of the crowd is really praise.
She does not fear the opinion of the " gens d'honneur,"
who have passed through her experience ; for, whether men
or women, they will remember and forgive her :
' ' Quant est a moy : ie ne veux publier
Le noeud qui sceut ma volunte" Iyer :
Et me plaist bien couvert et incongneu.
Mais s' il estoit par fortune advenu
Que mon amour, tel qu'il est, fust notoire,
Sans aultre aymer, sans le faire descroire,
Ie me vouldrois avec une prudence
Reconforter de telle congnoissance.
Et reiettant tous deshonneurs et honte,
Premierement ferois estat, et compte,
Que la vulgaire et sotte multitude
N'a jugement, scavoir, ny certitude :
Et le sachant, s'elle trouvoit estrange,
I'estimerois ses blasmes a louenge.
Les gens d'honneur redoubter je ne puis,
Qui ont passi- les destroicts, ou ie suis :
Car si d' aymer vient tout honnestete",
Et leur sou vient de ce qu'ilz ont este"
Soit homme ou femme, ilz me pardonneront." (p. 15.)
The Parfaite Amye feels however that for a married
woman to permit the attentions of another man is to put
herself in an equivocal position. Her defence is the pure
nature of this relationship. Suppose it is apparently a con-
travention of accepted matrimonial standards, yet if people
only knew of her life and conduct they would admit in their
hearts that she is right ; that is all she asks — the acquiescence
of the conscience — in public, people may, for convention's
sake, say what they like :
"Et mesme ceubc qui me condamneront
De n1 avoir sainctement observe"
574 W. A. R. KERB.
Le droict d'aymer au mary reserve",
Quant ilz scauront ma vie et ma conduicte,
Par une loy dedans leurs cueurs escripte
M'excuseront, quoi qu'ilz en vueillent dire
Tout a part soy : qui me debvra suffire :
Bien qu'ilz me soient en public ennemys." (p. 15. )
Admit, however, for the sake of argument, proceeds the
Parfaite Amye, that virtue is vice and let all gallantry be
banned, then if she be found still to permit it, the worth
of her lover is her defence.
However, she concludes, let us set aside the laws and
their harshness and reduce her case to equity :
"Mais confessons que la vertu soit vice,
Et bannissons tout amoureux service :
Laissons les lois et leur severity
Et reduisons ma cause a equiteV' (p. 16. )
Here follows the Parfaite Amye^s statement of her own
case and her plea for extra-matrimonial love :
If she serves one man by " cursed " chance, and by natural
law is the mistress of the other ; if one is life to her, the
other death ; if she love rightly, to which does she do
wrong : to him who abuses her happiness or to him who
refuses to take advantage of her ?
"Si ie sers 1' ung de mauldicte aventure,
Et ie commande a 1'aultre de nature :
. Si 1'ung m'est vie, et 1'aultre dure mort :
En bien aymant, auquel feray ie tort,
Ou a celluy qui de mon heur abuse,
Ou a celluy qui malgre" moy refuse ? " (p. 16. )
Her lover she pities and always will : —
" Puisque 1'amy, qui 1' esprit possede,
Corps et beaulte" de moy s'amye cede," etc. (p. 17).
Some people tell her she must leave her lover, and so
ANTOINE HEROET'S PARFAITE AM YE. 575
outrage her nature ; another pictures to her the " honneste
dame ; " a third hints she may be sinning against God ; still
another urges her to think no more about it — as though love
were a thing to be lightly taken up and set down : —
" Mais le mien est de lieu trop hault venu,
Pour estre ainsi variable term." (p. 18.)
This love already alluded to as " heavenly," according to
the Parfaite Amye, began in heaven before birth,1 and now
when the two souls in question meet and recognize each
other here below, and conditions are favorable, their renewed
love yields them a delight unspeakable, a comfort and joy
which only the understanding can comprehend : 2
' ' Quand deux esprits au ciel devant lids,
Puis recongneus en terre et r" allied,
Trouvent les corps propices, et les sens
Tous attentifz, serfz et obeissants,
De mutuelle et telle affection,
L'ung a de 1'aultre une fruition,
Ung aise grand, certain contentement,
Qui n'est congneu que de 1' entendement." (p. 25. )
Although the happiness of this soul-communion is "indici-
ble," the Parfaite Amye attempts a description of it :
" Bien vous diray ce que i'en imagine :
Ceste union est fureur tresdivine,
Dont les esprits quelcque foys agite"s
Sen tent 1'odeur de tant de deites
Que revenuz de ce ravissement
Laissent au corps ung esbahissement,
Comme si 1'heur a iamais fust perdu,
Qu'on leur avoit pour peu d'heure rendu." (p. 25. )
1 This idea is elaborated farther on, p. 37.
2 Understanding (entendement) : the use of the word " entendement "
indicates that the love under discussion is not of the senses, but intellectual.
This is quite in accord with the accepted Renaissance platonic theories.
576 W. A. R. KERE.
We are not to ask what this happiness is :
"Ne demandez quel heur : car qui Pa heu,
Oncques depuis redire ne Pa sceu.
Or s'il advient quelque foy 1 en la vie,
Que Pame estant en tel estat ravie,
Les corps voisins comme morts delaisse*s,
D' amour et non d'aultre chose presses,
Sans y penser se mettent a leur ayse,
Que la main touche, ou que la bouche baise." ' (p. 26. )
While the spiritual kiss here spoken of is not new, yet
Heroet must have felt that it needed special defence, for
regarding the kiss he proceeds :
"Cela n'est pas pour deshonneur compt6
C'est un instinct de naifve bonte",
Si ce pendant que les maistres iouyssent,
Les corps qui sont serviteurs s'eiouyssent :
Ny les esprits scauroient estre records
De ce qu'ont faict en absence les corps :
Ny le corps scait, ny langue signifie
L'heur qui Pesprit en terre deifie." (p. 26. )
The argument is odd : that in the tranced absence of the
1 "La bouche baise :" We meet here the "platonic kiss," that ecstatic
" congiungimento d'anima" of which Castiglione writes in the Cortegiano
(ed. Cian, Book IV, chap. LXIV).
Heroet' s own patroness, Margaret of Navarre, speaks also in the Adieux,
one of her most interesting and apparently most sincere poems, of the pla-
tonic kiss :
"Adieu vous dy le baiser juste et sainct
Fonde* du tout en Dieu et charite*."
In the same poem Margaret refers also to the hand :
"Adieu la main laquelle j'ay touched
Comme la plus parfaite en vraye foy,
Dans laquelle ay la mienne couche"e
Sans offenser d'honnestete la loy."
(Dernier es Poesies, ed. Lefranc, Paris, 1896, p. 351.)
ANTOINE HEROET'S PARFAITE AM YE. 577
soul, the body which is merely the servant, enjoys itself, and
on the former's return no record of the touch or kiss is
found.
So ends Book I.
The second book of the Parfaite Amye has for its theme
the situation which would be caused by the possible death
of the lover. The various thoughts and feelings to which
this gives rise lead to the expression by Heroet of many
curious and interesting ideas.
Should her lover die the Parfaite Amye hopes she may be
able to detach her spirit and so enter into some sort of
mystical communion with his soul :
' ' Car mon esprit en sera separe" :
Et au plus haut de sa tour retire"
Vouldra trouver alluy que tant aimoys,
L' esprit que tant en 1'aymant i'estimois.
Et pour aultant que de vertu muny
Seroit reioinct en Dieu et reuny,
Et que d'atteindre a chose pure et nette
On ne pourroit avecques 1'imparfaict,
Lairray 1' esprit d' amour purifie"
Disioinct du corps et tout mortifieV' (p. 35.)
Then the Parfaite Amye with clarified spiritual vision
beholds her lover beyond the veil :
" Ie le verray pour s'estre en Dieu fie"
Pur, simple et beau, sainct et deifie" :
Et pour avoir heu foy et loyaulte",
Ie le voirray iouyssant de beaulte"." (p. 36.)
The mention of the word "beault4" brings us to a very
interesting passage, in which the Parfaite Amye recalls a
speech about beauty that her lover had once made to her,
but which she at the time did not understand : —
" Mes sens pour lore de terre trop charges." (p. 37. )
However, as she recalls her lover's words, she gives
them :
578 W. A. R. KERR.
" II me souvient luy avoir ouy dire
Que la beaulte" que nous voyons reluyre
Es corps humains, n'estoit qu'une estincelle
De ceste IS, qu'il nommoit immortelle :
Que ceste cy, bien qu'elle fust sortie
De la celeste, et d'elle une partie,
Si toutesfoys entre nous perissoit,
Si s'augmentoit, ou s'elle decroissoit,
Que 1'aultre estoit entiere et immobile." (p. 36. )
This is the Renaissance doctrine of beauty as interpreted
by the cultured platonist exegetes of the Sixteenth Century,
by Bembo, Castiglione, by Margaret of Navarre, to whose
statements of platonism I have already referred.
A curious idea follows : that the death of her lover would
so clarify the senses of the Parfaite Amye that the cloud
which obscures knowledge would be dissipated :
" Sa seule mort leur osteroit la nue
Par laquelle est sapience incongnue." (p. 37.)
Heroe't now proceeds to elaborate a very remarkable
theory, that alluded to on p. 25. His idea is that our
souls before being summoned to put on earthly bodies were
engaged in heaven in the contemplation of divine beauty;
that after birth the memory of the previous state is practi-
cally lost, but that a remembrance of it is vouchsafed to
those who here below love truly. Then the experience of
love brings back to the lover a recollection of his former
bliss, and with this standard of eternal beauty in mind, the
lover is now able rightly to measure earthly beauty as a part
and pattern of the beauty which pervades and transfuses the
universe : -
"Ce qu'il dlsoit apres ung grand plaisir,
J^ous deux estants quelque foys de loisir,
Qu'avons este" devant que nous fussions,
Lors que beaulte" divine congneussions
pepuis tombfe^n ces terrestres corps
Que nulz n'estoient de ce temps la records
ANTOINE HEROET'S PARFAJTE AMYE. 579
Sinon bien peu, ausquelz estoit permis
De se nommer et estre vrays amys :
Et qui de belle amy plus devenoit
C' estoit celluy qui mieux se souvenoit
D5 avoir au ciel auparavant este"
Contemplateur de divine beaulte".
Qu' amour icy nous donnoit soubvenance,
Le souvenir causoit 1' intelligence
De la beaulte" ca bas mal entendue,
lusques au temps que 1'aesle soit rendue,
Que nous avons tombants desempennee, etc." (p. 37.)
In the theory here put forward Heroe't appears to go a
step beyond his contemporaries who, basing themselves
pretty squarely on the Symposium,1 held only that the lover
was insensibly raised by the contemplation of human beauty —
and, especially to the Renaissance, as typified in a woman — to
a comprehension of celestial beauty. Heroe't, however, makes
it clear that a spiritual love of woman may awaken recollec-
tion of a pre-natal experience of heavenly beauty, which then
becoming our standard enables us to judge correctly the
nature and meaning of that physical beauty with which we
have fallen in love.
Heroe't now attempts to account for the platonic lover's
feelings — a mixture
"d'horreuretd' admiration" (p. 38.)—
on beholding his lady :
"Cela ne vient d'humaine affection,
Ny de la terre ainsi que nous pensons :
II vient du ciel, dont nous recongnoissons
Ceste beaulte" de femme estre sortie,
Et nous souvient de tout, partie :
II nous souvient de la saison passee,
De la beaulte", qu'au ciel avons laiss^e." (p. 38. )
1 Jowett, Dialogues of Plato, 5 vols., London, 1892, cliiaa^ of speech of
Socrates, vol. i, p. 580 ff.
580 W. A. R. KERB.
This is the purest platonism : contact with a part of beauty
is to remind the lover that the cause of his feelings is not of
human origin ; but descends from heaven, which also is the
source of woman's beauty.
Heroet hints at a conception of platonism as something
akin to a social gospel, an idea we find in Margaret of
Navarre,1 who seems for a time at least to have looked upon
platonism as a lever by which woman might exert a refining
influence over man :
" Nostre ame crainct, qu' estant au corps lie"e,
Par son oubly du beau soit oublie*e.
Puis tout soubdain par sa recongnoissance
Elle s'asseure et entre en esperance,
Puisque d'ung tel souvenir est saysie,
Que beaulte" 1'a pre"esleue et choisie,
A s'eslever, si commence d' entendre
Combien de perte elle feist de descendre :
Veult refrener toutes passions vaines
Use d' amour et de beaulte"s humaines
Pour ung degre" propre a plus haulte attente.
Ainsi (disoit) 1'ame au corps est contente." (p. 39.)
According to Heroet, then, the soul, recognizing in its
earthly love an echo of the divine, feels — and this is a nice
neoplatonic touch — that beauty has predestinated and chosen
it ; so the lover, feeling his " calling and election sure," tries
to curb his passions, purify his life, and by the proper use
of earthly beauty to attain to higher things.
Heroet, who apparently borrows the legend from Bembo,2
1 Cf. Les Adieux, Dernferes Poesies, ed. Lefranc, p. 352, where Margaret
speaks of allowing a man's attentions with the object of doing him good :
" Vous faisiez tant semblant de bien m' entendre
Que je me mis de propos en propos
A vous hanter, esperant bon vous rendre."
2Pietro Bembo, Opere, 12 vols., Milan, 1808, vol. I, Asolani, p. 252-
p. 254.
ANTOINE HEROET'S PARFAITE AM YE. 581
tells the story of the Queen of the Fortunate Isles. When
travellers visited her dominions, they were put to sleep ; if
they dreamt of the beauty of the Queen they remained as
welcome guests. If they dreamed of anything else they
were dismissed :
"Brief des dormeurs nul en 1'Isle retient,
Sinon celluy, quand esveille* revient,
Qui a songe" de la grande beaulte" d'elle :
Tant de plaisir & d'estre, et sembler belle,
Que tel songeur en 1'Isle est bien venu." (p. 44. )
The final note of Book II is that of the future bliss of
the lovers when reunited in heaven, in enjoyment of that
beauty towards which their present love is but a desire :
"Si suis ie bien des ceste heure certaine,
Que reschappez de la prison mondaine
Irons au lieu, qu'avons tant estime*
Trouver le bien, qu'avons le plus ayme" :
(7 est de beaulte" iouyssance et plaisir,
Dont nostre amour est ung ardent desir." (p. 44. )
The word " reschappez " emphasizes again the idea of the
pre-natal life, which we have already noticed.
Book III of the Parfaite Amye, which is devoted to a
somewhat general advocacy of love, is less interesting than
the first two parts. The following is a brief re'sumS of the
contents of the Third Book :
It is the duty of all men to sacrifice to love (p. 47.) ; love
is to be looked upon as the best earthly gift we possess
(p. 49.) ; if a suitable lover present himself and " voluntS
mue de jugeinent" approve, he should be accepted (p. 49.) ;
love is the best balm for the ills of life (p. 49 bis.) ; the
greatest knowledge in this world is self-knowledge, and this
is best gained by the close observation of another, the oppor-
tunity for which is given by love (p. 52.) ; love is the great
582 W. A. R. KERB.
beautifier, and while it will not change a brunette to a
blonde, it will transform a woman's appearance (p. 54.) ; as
love keeps the mind calm it actually improves physical
well-being (p. 55.). In a very interesting passage Heroet
repudiates not only Petrarchism but Petrarch. This points
to the fact that Heroet was quite aware how essentially
different was the love he was preaching from that sung by
Petrarch and his Renaissance imitators (p. 58.). If love
yields such happiness, why is it that so many tragedies have
marred its course ? Heroet' s answer is that very few people
are born to love ; the others do it by imitation and the
results are disastrous (p. 59.).
The poem closes with the Parfaite Amye's advice to trust
love : —
"Laissez luy en tout le gouvernement,
Et s'il ne faict bien et heureusement
Vivre chascune en ses amours contente,
Ne m'appelez iamais parfaicte amante." (p. 63.)
What then are the chief points in the argument of the
Parfaite Amye?
Heroet asks for the married woman liberty to love purely
a man other than her husband. Admitting the equivocal
appearance of the relationship he would prefer it to be kept
secret ; but should the matter become public all that is
actually necessary is that people who really understand a
woman's position should in their consciences approve of her
conduct. People may tell a woman to dismiss her lover for
appearance' sake : but, says Heroet, love is not a thing to be
thus easily taken up and laid down. True love on earth is
but the renewal of a spiritual communion enjoyed previously
before birth in heaven. The culminating peak of this
renewed love is the ecstasy of the platonic kiss, an intellec-
tual exaltation which cannot be described. This love clari-
fies knowledge, elevates the character, acts upon a man like
ANTOINE HEROET'S PARFAITE AM YE. 583
a moral tonic. True love is a desire towards true beauty,
and as Beauty is but another name for God, love is a desire
for God. This intellectual love, says Heroet, is to be totally
differentiated from the so-called chaste wailiugs of Petrarch
and his imitators. That in practice so many extra-matri-
monial love-affairs go wrong is owing, not to the fault of
platonic love, but to the fact that but the elect few are
capable of entertaining it.
How far is Heroet to be taken seriously ?
It is to be remembered that marriage was in his day —
as it still largely is in France — a matter of convenience.
Heroet and many others saw in platonism an opportunity
for the affectionate side of a woman's nature to express itself.
He also apparently looked upon this spiritual bond between
the sexes as a chance for woman to improve and uplift the
man who rendered her this intellectualized homage. The
example of a number of his distinguished contemporaries
encouraged his belief. And while he sees and confesses the
practical and conventional difficulties inherent in the situa-
tion, Heroet claims that the frequent shipwrecks that occur
are due to the fact that this intellectual love, emancipated
from the dominion of sense, is only for the few.
Doubtless by the few in some form or other it has been
practised in all ages.
W. A. R. KERB.
XVIII.— THE RELATION OF THE HEROIC PLAY
TO THE ROMANCES OF BEAUMONT
AND FLETCHER.
In the study of the heroic play it has been rather generally
assumed that Dryden and his fellow-playwrights went direct
to France for their models and established in England a
form of drama distinct from anything that had preceded
them. The French romance and the French drama, because
they had an influence on the Restoration drama, have been
regarded as its sole progenitors. The position of D'Avenant
as the connecting link between the earlier and the later
drama has been recognized ; Dryden himself acknowledges
his indebtedness to the author of The Siege of Rhodes. But
very little has been done to show that a stream of influence
percolates from the Jacobean drama through D'Avenant
to the heroic play.1 Of course, it is easy to exaggerate
resemblances, to imagine similarities of capital importance,
and to proclaim a paramount influence ; but, nevertheless,
a priori reasons are in favor of an influence, and a com-
parison of the two types of drama will, it seems to me,
undoubtedly show a connection between them which is more
than casual.
Even as early as Marlowe the heroic type of character
was not unknown, though it was not, of course, the same as
the mouthpiece of the rant of the heroic play. Tamburlaine,
Faustus, and Barabas are not so unrelated in many of their
characteristics to Almanzor and Maximin that they must be
regarded as belonging to an entirely different stream of
JThe relation of D'Avenant to the romantic and the heroic drama will
be the subject of a later treatment. For a brief discussion, see Child, M.
L. Notes, xix, pp. 166 f.
584
THE HEROIC PLAY. 585
dramatic tendency. Marlowe's heroes are like Drydeu's in
their contempt of the impossible and their overwhelming
desire to attain their ends. They scorn opposition, are
utterly without fear, and in their most frenzied moods fly in
the face of the powers above. They differ, however, in their
relation to love. The Marlovian hero treats love as second-
ary to the attainment of power. Faustus wishes to see
Helen, because he is intoxicated with the Renaissance of
beauty, of which she is but a manifestation, not from any
personal love for her as a woman. Tamburlaine's love is
a mere incident ; and Barabas has only hate. Of somewhat
the same type is Hotspur, though he is presented with
infinitely greater art. He is ready to dare anything, he
will stand no opposition, and he has a loftier conception of
honor than those who only prate about it. His love, also,
is a mere incident in his vigorous, warlike existence; it is
not the object of his heroism. But the hero of the heroic
play is first and always a lover, and his heroism is directed
invariably towards the attainment of his love.
Dryden in his Essay of Heroic Plays l recognizes the kinship
of his Almanzor with a character beyond the gap of the Pro-
tectorate. He says : " If I would take the pains to quote an
hundred passages of Ben Johnson's Cethegus, I could easily
show you, that the rodomontades of Almanzor are neither so
irrational as his, nor so impossible to be put in execution ;
for Cethegus threatens to destroy Nature, and to raise a new
one out of it; to kill all the Senate for his part of the
action ; to look Cato dead ; and a thousand other things as
extravagant he says, but performs not one action in the
play." Yet it is only in this respect that Ben Jonson's
character resembles Dryden's heroes. He is not even the
chief personage in the play, he has nothing to do with love,
and his words are neutralized by his lack of performance.
1 Essays of John Dryden, edited by W. P. Ker, I, 157.
586 JAMES W. TUPPEE.
The impression he leaves of his "heroism," notwithstand-
ing Dryden, is nothing so great as Almanzor's. He be-
longs merely to the type of hero in the earlier drama, which
developed into the full-fledged type of the later.
It is, however, with the romantic plays 1 of Beaumont and
Fletcher that the most striking resemblances will be found
to exist. These dramatists were not only exceedingly popu-
lar in their day, but the numerous editions of their plays up
to and during the period of the Restoration as well as the
revivals of their principal plays on the stage show that they
had by no means ceased to be a literary force. That
they should have been without influence on the drama-
tists of the Restoration would be strange indeed. Dry-
den's frequent reference to them attests his familiarity
with their work and affords grounds for seeking their influ-
ence in his plays. And what applies to Dryden will apply
with almost equal force to the other writers of heroic plays.
On the other hand, one must not suppose that the heroic
play is but an imitation of the romantic. The genres have
distinct individualities. The romantic play is concerned
with love and its concomitant passions of jealousy, hate,
revenge, all exhibited in full fruition ; the heroic play deals
with love and a kind of exaggerated valor, with only
sporadic exhibitions of jealousy, generosity, and revenge.
The conflict of emotions is much greater in the romantic
than in the heroic play. Misunderstandings which give
rise to jealousy, estrangement, despair, and death are a stock
in trade of the romantic play, but they are a mere circum-
stance in the heroic. A frightful dilemma like Thierry's in
Thierry and Theodoret calls out a display of emotion beyond
anything in the later drama. It is the obvious that occasions
1 These plays are especially Philaster, The Maid's Tragedy, Thierry and
Theodoret, A King and no King, Four Plays in One, and Cupid's Revenge.
THE HEROIC PLAY. 587
the situations of the heroic play — parental opposition, the
married state of one of the lovers ; it is the removal of an
external obstacle, not internal conflict, that here constitutes
action. Nothing comes between the lover and his lady to
cause either to be thrown into an agony of doubt. The
problem in the romantic play involves the heart to heart
relations of the lovers ; in the heroic play it is merely the
removal of an obstructive force in the way of marriage.
Consequently, there is in the heroic play a constant back-
ground of war, either in progress or arising from the action
of the drama or threatening to break forth. The wars are
usually connected with the love affairs of the hero and they
furnish him with opportunities for showing his valor and
whining his love. In the romantic play, on the other hand,
there is an absence of all this. The actual clash of arms is
not presented on the stage nor is it heard behind the scenes.
Moreover, there is another difference in that the romantic
play is a poetic drama ; such characters as the forlorn maiden
are presented in a beauty of poetic treatment peculiar to this
period. In the heroic play, however, actual poetic beauties
are comparatively rare, and there is almost entirely lacking
a poetic presentation of character or incident.
But it is with the resemblances and not with the differ-
ences between the heroic and the romantic plays that this paper
is concerned. The influence of the romantic plays of Beau-
mont and Fletcher on those of Shakspere has already been
made the subject of study by Professor Thorndike,1 so that
it seems clear that Shakspere actually imitated the type
in his romances. The heroic dramatists did not imitate
Beaumont and Fletcher in the same way, but they borrowed
1 The Influence of Beaumont and Fletcher on Shakspere, by Ashley H.
Thorndike, Worcester, 1900. I must acknowledge my great indebtedness
to this admirable piece of work, which I have used freely throughout the
following pages.
11
588 JAMES W. TUPPER.
devices, characters, and situations which had proved effec-
tive in the romantic play.
With the exception of the work of D'Avenant, the heroic
play may be regarded as stretching from 1664, the date of
Dryden and Howard's Indian Queen and Orrery's Henry V,
to 1720, the date of Hughes' s Siege of Damascus. The
period of greatest productivity was from 1664 to 1678,
when the work of Dryden, Orrery, and Otway, and most
of that of Settle and Crowne was complete. Dryden's contri-
butions ceased with Aurengzebe in 1676, the year of Otway's
Don Carlos, Settle's Ibrahim and Conquest of China, Lee's
Gloriana and Sophonisba, and Durfey's Siege of Memphis.
The Conquest of Granada, which may be regarded as the
heroic play, par excellence, was acted in 1669 and 1670, and
was published in 1672 with the prefatory essay 'On Heroic
Plays.'
Of the plays produced during this time those of Dryden
are taken as furnishing the type, from which those of Orrery,
Otway, Crowne, and the others vary to a greater or less
extent. Dryden and Orrery are exact contemporaries and
their plays rather closely resemble each other. After the
preliminary work of D'Avenant, they wrote the first fully
developed heroic plays, and in any study of origins their
plays may be considered as furnishing the standard.
I. PLOT.
The heroic play, especially Dryden's, conforms on the
whole to the following composite type. A hero of soldierly
qualities and matchless valor falls suddenly in love with the
beautiful and nobly bred heroine, who often belongs to a
party opposed to the hero's, and he finds his love embarrassed
on the one hand by a rival and on the other by forces for
the time being superior to his own. The rival may be
THE HEROIC PLAY. 589
generous or not ; in the end he fails. The forces may be the
opposing will of king or parent, the requirement of morality
upon which the heroine is insistent, the obstructive love of
the villains, usually the king and the queen, for the heroine
and the hero respectively. These obstacles the hero or other
agencies remove, usually through the voluntary or imposed
deaths of rivals and villains, so that the play ends in the
happy union of the lovers. In some plays, notably Otway's,
the forces prove too strong for the lovers, and the catastrophe
involves the tragic deaths of the hero and the heroine as
well as the deserved deaths of the villains.
THE SCENE.
1. The scene of the heroic play is, with few exceptions,
in some country remote enough from England to be un-
familiar to the average Englishman. Dryden's are in
America, Granada, Agra, Aquileia; Orrery's in Hungary
and the court of the Sultan, Syria, Sicily, with two in Eng-
land ; Otway's in ancient Greece and in Spain. There
was a preference for places with a sort of splendor in keep-
ing with heroic conditions. This corresponds exactly to the
practise of Beaumont and Fletcher in their romances. They
located their plays in Angiers, Armenia, Austracia, Lycia,
Rhodes, Messina, Milan, Lisbon, and Athens. Neither
they nor the heroic dramatists made any attempt to give an
historical setting to their scenes. The Indians of Mexico
were as chivalrous as the grandees of Spain, and the civiliza-
tion of the new world was as advanced in all matters of
thought and morals as that of the old. The world of the
heroic was as unreal as that of romance.
THE SUBJECT OF DRAMATIC INTEREST.
2. The method of the heroic dramatist was essentially
that of the romantic dramatist and not that of the chronicler.
590 JAMES W. TUPPEK.
Dryden and his fellows used historical material, but they
disregarded the facts of history and made no effort to present
a given period as a sequence of connected events. Their
plays are concerned with royalty, Usually with actual histori-
cal personages, but they do not present a reign after the
manner of the Shaksperean chronicle play. The sole interest
is the heroic love, with the reign as the background. It is
the love affair of Almanzor and Almahide, and not the fate
of Boabdelin's kingdom that furnishes the interest of the
Conquest of Granada. Orrery's Henry V, in contrast with
Shakspere's, relegates to an entirely secondary interest the
exploits of Henry as king, and makes his rivalry with Tudor
for the love of Katharine and his ultimate success the main
interest. So in Beaumont and Fletcher's Maid's Tragedy,
the interest is the revenge of the injured husband and brother
on the wicked king and not in any sense the failure of the
king as a sovereign. In the same way the problem of A
King and No King is the love of Arbaces for his supposed
sister, not his career on the throne. Yet in both cases, as
also in the heroic plays, thrones are tottering to the accom-
paniment of the romantic or the heroic interest. Neither
type, moreover, has any sympathy with the bourgeois con-
cerns of the domestic play.
THE CONTRAST OF PURE AND SENSUAL LOVE.
3. In the plot itself there are certain resemblances to the
plots of the romantic plays. It has been observed in the
romantic plays l that there is a contrast of pure, sentimental
love with gross sensual passion. In Philaster the pure love
of Philaster, Arethusa, and Euphrasia is contrasted with
the sensuality of Pharamond and Megra ; the idyllic love of
Thierry and Ordella in Thierry and Theodoret stands out
1 Thorndike, pp. 110 f.
THE HEROIC PLAY. 591
against the bestial love of the queen for her paramour. And
so of other romantic plays. In the typical heroic play, the
passion of the wicked king and queen for the heroine and
hero respectively conflicts with the love of the hero and the
heroine. In the Indian Queen the intrigue of the Queen
and Traxalla, and later the passion of each, diverted, accord-
ing to strict heroic custom, towards the hero and the heroine
respectively, is opposed to the love of Montezuma and
Orazia. In Otway's Don Carlos, the passion of Don John
and Eboli is contrasted with the love of the queen and the
hero ; in Alcibiades the sinful passion of Theramnes for
Timandra and of the queen for Alcibiades sets off the pure
love of Alcibiades and Timandra.
It is out of this conflict that the action of the heroic play
springs, just as it does in the romances. In Philaster the
jealousy of the hero, the heroine's patient submission to
insult, and the lovelorn maiden's self-abnegation are all due
to the discovery of the intrigue of Pharamond and Megra,
and the woman's desire to take it out on the heroine and her
lover. In the Maid's Tragedy the overthrow of the king-
dom and the deaths of the king, the injured husband, the
repentant wife, and the lovelorn maiden are due to the clash-
ing of the love of the husband for his shameless wife with
the adulterous passion between her and the king. The same
holds for Thierry and Theodoret, and the Triumph of Honour.
In Otway's Don Carlos all the tragic events that fill the
stage with carnage as the curtain falls are due to the villain-
ous Eboli, whose intrigue with Don John stands out in ugly
contrast to the love of Don Carlos for the queen. In
Dryden's plays the passion of the wicked men and women
for the true lovers constitutes the entire action ; it is that
which keeps the lovers apart. Orrery's Tryphon consists in
the conflict of pure with impure love, with the result that the
villain kills himself and the lovers are united. The passions
592 JAMES W. TUPPEE.
aroused in this conflict between the two kinds of love are
much fiercer in the romantic than in the heroic plays.
Jealousy, revenge, incestuous and adulterous passion, love
face to face with death or dishonor are some of the passions
that torture the characters of the romantic plays. But in
Dryden love is the chief emotion and it undergoes no violent
wrenchings ; in Orrery jealousy is weakly portrayed and no
feelings are very deeply stirred. Otway succeeds best in
giving an impression of personal suffering ; one realizes that
his characters feel pain when they are stretched upon the
rack of circumstances.
One of the contributing causes of the greater intensity of
the emotions aroused in the romantic plays is the fact that
the contrast between the pure and the impure love is more
intense. The passions of the villains in the romantic plays
are grosser, more sensual, more unblushing than in the heroic
plays, with the possible exception of Ot way's. The king
and queen do not show so brazen an effrontery in their
passion for the heroine and the hero as do the king and
Evadne in the Maid's Tragedy, or as the queen and her
paramour in Thierry and Theodoret. Often, indeed, this
heroic passion, when scorned, turns to hate, or, as in the
Indian Queen and Aurengzebe, ends in sudden conversion.
VARIETY OF ACTION.
4. There is no character drawing in the strict sense of
the word in the heroic plays; the individuals are types,
nothing more. There is therefore a complete absence of
psychological interest. Furthermore, there is no develop-
ment of plot to create an interest independent of character,
as there is in Shakspere's early comedies. The plots, on the
whole, lack unity ; there is no commanding interest to hold
them together. This being so, it is necessary to find some
THE HEROIC PLAY. 593
interest which relieved them from utter banality in the
minds of the theatre-goers of the seventeenth century. This
is in the variety of the action, in the varied incidents that
happen throughout the play and possess an independent
interest. To illustrate : the Conquest of Granada has no
character interest, no plot interest ; but it has this interest
that something is happening in nearly every scene of the
play. No sooner does Almanzor appear than he quells a
riot between the warring factions, incidentally killing a
leader of the opposite party. Then he is seized and ordered
for execution, but he is discovered to be the valiant Alman/or
and is freed by the king with apologies. At once he goes
out against the Spaniards and takes the Duke of Arcos
prisoner. By his magnanimous treatment of Arcos he incurs
the king's wrath, and is persuaded to join a faction which
has in the meantime been created against the king. The
result is that the king is taken prisoner along with his
betrothed Almahide. With her Almanzor at once falls des-
perately in love and sues for her release. Refused he at
once oscillates to the king again, and is in turn successful
against the rebels. As a reward for his services he asks the
king and Almahide's father for the hand of Almahide, is
rejected, and when he resorts to violence, is bound. Later
he leaves the city, knowing Almahide will marry the king.
The second part of the play is marked by the same jumble
of incidents, as disconnected and as free from development
as those of the first part. It will be found on examination
that the other plays of Dryden are constructed on this
principle. Those of Orrery are much the same, except that
the single scenes are less effective theatrically ; they are
levelled down to a more depressing dulness than Dryden's.
There is more unity in Otway's plays, but they consist also
of effective scenes which keep the attention of the audience
as much as does the unity of design working through the
594 JAMES W. TUPPER.
plot. Thus in Don Carlos the hero reveals his feelings to the
traitor Ruy-Gomez. Ruy-Gomez like lago instils jealousy
in the mind of the king concerning his wife and Don Carlos.
The king rages, orders Posa to kill both the queen and
Don Carlos, a command Posa will not obey. The king
banishes Don Carlos. The wicked Eboli, who is at the
bottom of all the villainy, makes love to Don Carlos and is
repulsed. She obligingly plans a plot by which the king
can see Don Carlos with the queen. Her husband kills
Posa and finds in his pocket dispatches incriminating Don
Carlos ; later he discovers the infidelity of his own wife.
Don Carlos is seized, the queen is poisoned, Eboli mortally
wounded confesses her crimes, and Don Carlos commits
suicide. The king stabs Gomez and, for variety's sake,
goes mad. These are stirring scenes indeed.
In their plays the aim of Beaumont and Fletcher as of the
heroic dramatists, was " to present a series of situations, each
of which should be interesting of itself and should contrast
with its neighbors, and all of which should combine suffi-
ciently to lead up to a startling theatrical climax. There is
nothing epical about their construction ; it is not truly dra-
matic like that of Shakespeare's tragedies, where the action
is in part developed from character ; but it is skillfully suited
to theatrical effectiveness." This is illustrated from the
plays : " A girl disguised as a boy is stabbed by the man
she loves ; a woman, convicted of adultery, boldly defies her
accusers and slanders the princess ; a king is in love with his
supposed sister ; a king is persuaded to kill the first woman
coming from a temple and encounters the queen, who is
unknown to him." l There is no doubt that Beaumont and
Fletcher were eminently successful in their separate scenes,
so much so that to-day we feel their power. This cannot be
said of the scenes of the heroic play. They are too artificial,
1 Thorndike, p. 113.
THE HEROIC PLAY. 595
too much an exploitation of the hero's greatness or the vil-
lain's wickedness. The trial scene of St. Catharine in
Tyrannic Love, where the wheel is broken by an angel, and
the scene of the vindication of Almahide's honor in the Con-
quest of Granada, do not convince as do the great scenes in
the romances.
A contributing factor to the variety and effectiveness of
the action is that the love affairs are inseparably bound up
with state affairs. In all of Dryden's so-called tragic plays
except Aurengzebe, the sovereign is slain as the direct or
indirect result of the love affairs ; at any rate, his death
makes possible the marriage of the lovers. His life and the
stability of the throne are .bound up with his love, and the
heroic interest is heightened because a king becomes involved
in a life and death struggle. None but royalty or high
nobility is worthy of serious treatment in an heroic play ;
consequently affairs of state lend interest to the love affairs.
The same situation exists in the romantic plays. They
also deal with exalted personages only, whose fate involves
that of the state. In the Maid's Tragedy, the king is
entangled in a miserable intrigue and pays the penalty with
his life, while his crown is being reft from him by the
brother of the woman he had ruined. In A King and No
King, Arbaces loses his crown by a happy revelation which
makes his marriage possible, and thereby, too, he regains his
crown. The love of Thierry for Ordella comes in conflict
with the villainy of his mother so that he dies her victim.
Thus " thrones are tottering and revolutions brewing " while
the passions of individuals are being stirred.
THE DENOUEMENT.
5. It is to be expected that, if the heroic plays consist of
more or less effectively theatric scenes, they will endeavor
after special effectiveness in the denouement. An exam-
596 JAMES W. TUPPER.
ination of Dryden's work shows his manifest intention of
ending each play with its most effective scene. The methods
adopted were usually artificial to a degree, of a nature some-
times entirely surprising, and always more or less sensational
in their effect. Thus, in the Indian Queen, the disappointed
rival stabs himself, so comforted is he by the heroine's pity
for him, while the lovers stand helpless in the power of their
enemies. Suddenly news is brought of the arrival of the
banished queen Amexia, who, it develops, is the mother of
the hero. Thereupon the wicked queen repents, frees the
hero, who at once slays the villain and receives his mother.
The now repentant queen, after a nobly heroic speech, kills
herself. All these events are sensational enough and im-
probable enough to satisfy the requirements of any heroic
dramatist. The denouement of the Indian Emperor is
equally melodramatic. In Tyrannic Love sensationalism is
still more rampant. Supernaturalism appears in the angePs
destroying the torture wheel. In the resolution of the
lovers' difficulties there is such a succession of stabbings that
few escape ; the soldiers enter and give the crown to the
hero. The Conquest of Granada amazes us with the defeat
of Almanzor, but reassures us with the discovery that the
leader of the victorious Spaniards is his father. We are
still further comforted by the death of the long-suffering
Boabdelin and the assurance that the heroically virtuous
Almahide will marry Almanzor after a year of weeping
widowhood. The elements that make the denouement of
Aurengzebe are the conversion of the two wicked rivals, the
spasm of jealousy which the hero feels when he sees his
beloved with his dying rival in her arms, the self-immolation
of the neglected wife, and the actual burning up of the queen
in raving passion.
An examination of the plays of Otway and Orrery reveals
very much the same methods, the heaping together of sensa-
THE HEROIC PLAY. 597
tional matter with a plentiful admixture of murders and
suicides. Otway uses a method in favor among heroic
dramatists, when in Don Carlos he lets the king know all
too late that he has been tricked into believing his wife false.
Then, very properly, he stabs the only guilty person not
already mortally wounded, and goes mad himself. No ex-
travagance was too great, no passion too harrowing, no device
too patently artificial and improbable to be used in giving an
effective end to the heroic situation. And there is nothing
in the least inevitable about these denouements. One ending
is as likely as another. Otway makes tragedies and Dryden
does not. Dryden's plays could end tragically as well as
not ; only in his case his heroes are above the chances of
fate ; circumstances work for them. With Otway's it is dif-
ferent ; his plays end with the heroes overwhelmed by their
fate. Dryden would have spared the queen in Don Carlos
and would not have allowed the hero to die by his own
hands ; all the others he would likely have consigned to
death. And this is because the characterization of these
plays amounts to nothing. They do not carry their fate in
their own breasts ; it is placed upon them by the will of the
dramatist.
Now, in this respect the heroic play is but the successor
of the romantic. Thorndike points out how effectively
Beaumont and Fletcher worked out the denouement of
their plays. " The denouement is never simple ; it never
turns out in just the way one would expect ; it never has the
inevitableness of great tragedy. On the other hand, it is
never, as in Measure for Measure, a long explanation of
entanglements which the audience already understands. It
usually does exhibit the lively variation of incidents, the
succession of sharp surprises that we expect in effective
melodrama." In the Maid's Tragedy " we have a number
of situations, some not uncommon on the stage, welded
598 JAMES W. TUPPKR.
together in a denouement which is perhaps unequalled by
any other in the Elizabethan drama in its power to hold the
interest of an audience at fever heat. It holds this interest,
moreover, after a scene of the greatest acting power ; it solves
the difficult dramatic problem of maintaining the interest
from the climax to the catastrophe. And yet this is no more
than a fair example of the care with which Beaumont and
Fletcher invariably heightened their denouements. While
joining and contrasting a large number of situations, involving
all sorts of vicissitudes and misfortunes, while infusing each
situation with dramatic power and advancing to an intensely
powerful climax, they also seem to have been more careful
than their contemporaries in the development of a striking
stage denouement." l
It is, of course, in the effectiveness with which the de-
nouement is worked out that the great difference lies between
the best work of Dryden and that of Beaumont and Fletcher.
It is the difference between artifice and art. Not one of the
heroic dramatists had the fine technical skill of Beaumont
and Fletcher ; none of them could produce the splendid
theatric effects of their predecessors. The sudden appear-
ances, conversions, revelations of identity, suicides, murders,
and the like, which occur so frequently in the heroic play?
are never worked into a scene of such tremendous intensity
as the great scene in the Maid's Tragedy. Yet, though the
heroic dramatists did not attain the success of their romantic
predecessors, we cannot admit that there is no relation
between the two. The heroic dramatists were trying to do
with their wooden plays what Beaumont and Fletcher brought
to such a state of theatric perfection in their living repre-
sentations of dramatic situations. The same elements appear
in both. There is hardly a device in the heroic play that is
not already in the romantic ; the few which occur are but
10p. tit., pp. 114 f.
THE HEROIC PLAY. 599
natural extensions of devices already used. The difference
is in the skill with which these devices are employed.
THE TRAGIC ELEMENT.
6. Dry den calls these plays tragedies. The term is rather
loosely used and is evidently intended to cover any play in
which deaths occur. In none of his heroic plays, however,
is either of the lovers killed. In the Conquest of Granada
the scheming Lyndaraxa and her two lovers are killed,
they being the principals in the subplot, the king Boabdelin
happily is slain in battle with the Spaniards, but the hero
Almanzor, and the heroine Almahide, have only to wait
during the year of Almahide's conventional widowhood till
they shall be married. The Indian Queen, the Indian Em-
peror, aud Aurengzebe do not present any noteworthy differ-
ences to the type. Tyrannic Love, however, is not quite the
same, since it has a double interest. The part concerned
with the Christian martyr ends with her death and thus
deserves to be classed as tragedy ; that dealing with the love
of the Empress and the hero ends much like the Conquest of
Granada, and is not tragedy. There are two plays, how-
ever, which differ radically from these, and yet may be
grouped as heroic ; they are the tragi-comedy, The Maiden
Queen, and the "comedy," Marriage a la Mode. Both con-
tain matter which has tragic possibilities as well as matter
which is frankly comic. Marriage a la Mode, Scott conjec-
tures,1 was changed from an heroic play proper into a tragi-
comedy, " or rather a tragedy and comedy," in consequence
of the ridicule heaped upon the heroic play by the Rehearsal.
In neither of these plays do events reach a tragic issue, and
each contains comic matter such as does not appear in the
heroic plays proper. Orrery's plays are much like Dryden's,
1 Scott-Saintsbury, I, pp. 120-2.
600 JAMES W. TUPPEB.
except that in Mustapha the ending is tragic owing to the
death of the hero and his sworn brother. Tryphon and
Altemira end with the deaths of leading characters but with
the union of the lovers. Henry V and the Black Prince are
tragi-comedies, though the tragic element in each is rather
insignificant. Otway's two plays are eminently tragic. Of
all the heroic plays, it may be said that about as many are
pure tragedies as are tragedies after the fashion of the Con-
quest of Granada. Among these plays are a few tragi-come-
dies, not much more than half a dozen.
The complete tragedy is a well-known type on the English
stage and requires no comment. But the incomplete tragedy
and the tragi-comedy are not so well known. Fletcher
defines a tragi-comedy in these words : "A tragi-comedy is
not so called in respect of mirth and killing, but in respect
it wants deaths, which is enough to make it no tragedy, yet
brings some near it, which is enough to make it no comedy,
which must be a representation of familiar people, with such
kind of trouble as no life be questioned: so that a god
is as lawful in this as in a tragedy, and mean people as in a
comedy." l In view of this definition and the work of Beau-
mont and Fletcher we can agree with Thorndike in regarding
them as the first to study the type and formulate its rules.
The type became very popular and continued so till the
closing of the theatres. Dryden wrote five plays of this
kind, Rival Ladies, Maiden Queen, Marriage a la Mode,
(called by Dryden 'a comedy'), Spanish Friar, and Love
Triumphant, and in his later years repented, saying, — " for
though the comical parts are diverting, and the serious
moving, yet they are of an unnatural mingle : for mirth and
gravity destroy each other, and are no more to be allowed
for decent than a gay widow laughing in a mourning
1 Preface to the Faithful Shepherdess.
THE HEROIC PLAY. 601
habit." l The tragi-comedy was not without a certain
vogue among the writers of heroic plays, but it was of much
less importance than what I have called the incomplete
tragedy. This differs from the types before the closing of
the theatres and seems to be a natural accommodation of the
tragi-comedy to the demands of the heroic play. In the
ideal heroic play, the hero must not be killed ; it would be a
paradox for a man like Almanzor to go down to his grave at
the close of the play. Maximin, being a villain, should
meet a villain's reward ; but a hero must rise above unto-
ward fate and win his love. That is essential to his heroic
character. But in doing so it is inevitable that he clash with
enemies, who being villains must be punished, and that with
death ; whether their death is due directly to him or not seems
to be immaterial. Now, the tragi-comedy was hardly strong
enough for the passions of this heroically developed character ;
what was needed was that the tragic part should become real
tragedy and the comedy remain with its happy ending for the
lovers, but without the vulgar fun of decadent or Restor-
ation comedy. Accordingly, the forces that work against
the lovers are brought to naught in the persons of the wicked
king and queen. Each has usually gone too far to be saved
by repentance alone, though Aurengzebe's father is a case of
such salvation. Boabdelin falls in battle that his wife may
be free to marry Almanzor. The Indian Queen repents in
time to give the hero a chance to kill the villain Traxalla,
and then, when she sees her love is hopeless, she stabs her-
self. So the enemies of the lovers in the Indian Emperor
die. The intensity of their passions which lead to death is
on a par with the overpowering love of the hero and the
heroine. This intensity of passion is further shown in the
fate of the unfortunate rival ; in the Indian Queen he slays
1 ' Parallel of Poetry and Painting,' in Essays, n, 147.
602 JAMES W. TUPPER.
himself; in Tyrannic Love he invites and receives death by
his attack on the tyrant. So the unfortunate Melisinda in
Aurengzebe will sacrifice herself on her husband's pyre as an
end to the sufferings she endured through his neglect. More-
over, death is always imminent for both hero and heroine up
to the very close of the play. Then they are free because
death has descended on their enemies. They are always in
greater danger of death than they are in the tragi-comedy.
Consequently death for the others is more imperative.
To scenes calling for such exalted emotions it was
natural that Dryden should not care to add the buffoonery
or even the salacious dialogues and compromising situations
of his comedies. There is a falling off in intensity in the
heroic part of the Maiden Queen and a still greater in that of
Marriage a la Mode, which is in direct proportion to the
increase in the comedy. When the two mighty topics of
love and valor were the theme, there was such a concen-
tration of interest about them that all indecent frivolity was
done away with. Just enough comedy was retained to
relieve to some extent the superlative seriousness of the
heroic.
II. CHAEACTEKIZATION.
It has already been intimated that the characterization in
the heroic play is very slight. It was shown that no attempt
is made to build plot about character, that plot consists of a
series of happenings, more or less theatric in nature, and
without any vital connection with each other or with the
characters figuring in them. The relation of plot to charac-
ter is casual, not inevitable ; the hero of one play differs very
little from that of another ; the heroines are practically of
one type, and the minor characters have still less individu-
ality. No psychological interest attaches itself to any one
personage in the strictly heroic play, since the dramatis
THE HEROIC PLAY. 603
personae are not individuals but types. The characters,
moreover, are not made to express themselves, but are
revealed by the words of others.1 Almanzor is described as
the great unknown in the opening scene of the Conquest of
Granada, thus preparing for his entry later. This procedure
follows that in Beaumont and Fletcher. Melantius gives
such a description of Amintor in the Maid's Tragedy, and
later Lysippus similarly describes the conduct and character
of Aspatia. In the opening of Aurengzebe we have descrip-
tions of the emperor and his sons, just as in Philaster we
have a detailed account of Bellario. This method of charac-
terization is equally common in the heroic and the romantic
drama. It is easier to present some idea of a character by
describing him in the mouths of others than to make him
reveal himself by his own words and deeds. Both the
heroic and the romantic plays sacrifice psychological interest
in character to theatric bustle.
THE HERO.
1. The most important personage in the heroic play is
naturally the hero, and he is the same in one play of
Dryden's as in any of the others, with differences only in
the intensity of the heroic qualities. The heroes of Orrery's
plays are very like one another and do not differ much from
those of Dryden's. Otway's Don Carlos and Alcibiades are
much alike, but they are not fashioned on quite the same
conventional pattern as Dryden's heroes. The hero, who
may be represented by Almanzor, that crowning glory of
the type, is a man of royal or noble birth, as indeed are
all the characters, of splendid presence, of surpassing valor
and self-confidence. He falls in love after the play
1 This Dryden approves of in his criticism of Jonson. See ' Essay of
Dramatic Poesy,' in Essays, I, 87.
12
604 JAMES W. TUPPER.
begins and continues to love most constantly and devotedly.
He sets no limit to what he can do. In his own esti-
mation Heaven above and the earth beneath can furnish
forth no being capable of resisting him eifectually. With
him on their side no men need fear ; with him against them,
no men need hope. To Abdalla Almanzor says : —
But at my ease thy destiny I Bend
By ceasing from this hour to |be thy friend.
Like heaven, I need but onlj| to stand still,
And not concurring in thy lijfe, I kill.1
So he conducts himself throughout ijhe play, bringing victory
to whichever side he favors, till ' in the battle with the
Spaniards he is deserted by his troo|>s and is about to engage
the Duke of Arcos, when their relationship of father and
son is supernaturally revealed to each. Then he becomes
one with the victorious Spaniards. Notwithstanding these
feats of valor, however, he is several times overpowered and
forced to submit like any ordinary man to the will of the
king. Moreover, it is not through anything the hero does
that Boabdelin, the great obstacle to his love, is killed ; that
fortunate event happens in the battle with the Spaniards,
when Almanzor was fighting for Boabdelin. This contrast
between what the hero says and what he actually does is
brought out more strikingly in some of the other plays.
Montezuma in the Indian Queen is not saved by his valor
from danger of death but by the sudden repentance of the
Queen. Maximin, a very wicked hero, had declared : —
Look to it, gods ! for you the aggressors are,
Keep you your rain and sunshine in your skies,
And I'll keep back my flame and sacrifice.
Your trade of heaven shall soon be at a stand,
And all your goods lie dead upon your hand.2
li C. o/G., m:i.
2 Tyr. Love, v : i.
THE HEROIC PLAY. 605
No sooner has he uttered this blasphemous speech than
Placidius stabs him to death. In the same play the good
hero and the heroine are saved by the dagger of Placidius
and the entry of the soldiers. It is only an accident, not
anything her lover could do, that saves Cydaria from death
in the Indian Emperor. It is not Aurengzebe that saves his
beloved from the jealous Nourmahal, but his hitherto bitter
rival, now repentant and dying. In those plays which end
tragically, the contrast between the hero's boastful words
and his inability to bring about a happy termination is still
greater. Such is the case of Dryden's Maximin, and of
Settle's Cambyses, who says : —
I taught the Egyptian god mortality.1
and later on learns mortality himself. Durfey's Moaran
declares : —
Why, what has Fate to do with me ?
I am controuler of my Destiny ;
Let such as fear to die call chance unkind ;
My fate is as immortal as my mind ; *
but he is powerless to save his beloved.
It seems to be largely a matter of chance in any case
whether the hero shall end in peace or in death. The hero,
in fine, is a person who says much, and appears to do much,
but who, when the work of bringing about a happy issue is
analyzed, does not accomplish much.
The love of the hero is as extravagant as his vaunted
valor. Its beginning is sudden and violent. It knows no
restraint ; it also knows no progression. The hero is as
mighty a lover at the beginning as at the end of the action.
He will admit no obstacles as insurmountable to the attainment
of his love, yet he by no means always overcomes them.
1 Cambyses, I : i.
2 Siege of Memphis, I.
606 JAMES W. TUPPER.
Sometimes his love prevents his removing obstacles, as when
his mistress will not let him violate honor to attain her love.
Thus Almahide will not let Almanzor do anything against
Boabdelin which might remove the husband and open a way
for the lover. The lover must obey his mistress's commands
to the letter. Love is preeminent in the mind and heart of
the hero. Only very rarely is it esteemed less than honor.
The hero will endure all things for love; he will go to
prison, suffer death, before he will yield to the love of
another, even though it be that of his queen. He is true to
his beloved always. In one case, that in Marriage a la
Mode, the hero refuses to obey his beloved when her com-
mands mean his sacrificing his love. She forbids him to take
up arms against her father, when in this way only he can
win her and secure for himself the throne her father is
unjustly depriving him of. When she declares she will
reveal his designs, he quietly puts her under arrest. Usually,
however, the heroine's word is law to the hero. When she
dies, he follows. Moaran in Durfey's Siege of Memphis is a
remarkable exception, in that he will follow honor and no
longer love, when he sees his beloved Amasis stabbed by her
sister, the queen.
That the hero of these plays is not entirely a copy of the
hero of the French romances nor a complete creation of
the heroic dramatist will be clear after an examination of the
hero of the romantic plays of Beaumont and Fletcher. This
hero is much the same in all these plays. In fact, as
Thorndike remarks, " Philaster, Amintor, and Leucippus *
are so absolutely alike that they could, so far as they have
any personality, readily be exchanged. . . . Thierry and
Arbaces2 present a somewhat different type, in which un-
governable passion is largely emphasized." 3 Now there are
1 In Philaster, Maid's Tragedy, and Cupid's Revenge respectively.
2 In Thierry and Theodoret and A King and No King respectively.
3 Op. cit., p. 123.
THE HEROIC PLAY. 607
many respects in which Philaster is the forebear of the heroic
hero. He is as boastful as the best of Dryden's boastful
heroes. He declares with the voice of Almanzor : —
I never yet saw enemy that look'd
So dreadfully but that I thought myself
As great a basilisk as he ; or spake
So horribly, but that I thought my tongue
Bore thunder underneath, as much as his.1
He has a supreme scorn for others. Never for a moment
does he doubt his own ability to crush anyone he encounters.
He fears not even thunder, the voice of Jove; how much
less does he fear the villain Pharamond. Obstacles that
stand between him and the attainment of his purpose are
but as steps by which he may mount ; they never bar his
progress : —
Set hills on hills betwixt me and the man
That utters this [falsehood], and I will scale them all.*
The violence of his passions finds vent in words of denuncia-
tion which suggest the heroic; it is the same rage that
possesses Almanzor. So, too, his love is strong and passion-
ate. It starts out suddenly, and at once reaches the height
of passion, where it is turned into raging jealousy. While
suffering from the pangs of jealousy, Philaster cries out : —
Love me like lightning, let me be embraced
And kissed by scorpions, or adore the eyes
Of basilisks, rather than trust the tongues
Of hell-bred women ! . . . .3
This is the tone and temper of the heroic hero. The latter,
however, does not suffer jealousy to such a degree that it
becomes the leading motif of the play. With him it is
usually trivial and of short duration. In the same way
lPhil., i : ii. 'Phil., ra : i. *Phti., iv : iii.
608 JAMES W. TUPPER.
Arbaces proclaims the wonders he has done ; his greatness
surpasses all about him ; his self-assurance is boundless : —
If thou didst mean to flatter, and should' st utter
Words in my praise that thou thought' st impudence
My deeds should make 'em modest.1
Like Maximin he arrogates to himself divine power : —
She [his supposed sister] is no kin to me, nor shall she be ;
If she were ever, I create her none.2
His love for his supposed sister is sudden and overwhelm-
ing ; it is as intense as any love in the heroic play, and with
it is the terrible consciousness of sin. He kisses Panthea
and feels at once the thrill of love which he is powerless to
resist. He is as much a victim to his love as any heroic
hero to his nobler passion. He seeks expression for his
feelings in the impossible ; he would do what he knows is
not in human power and so free himself from the tyranny
of the moral law. Thierry's attitude towards his beloved is
the same as that of the heroic hero. In the anguish after
his discovery that the woman he should sacrifice is his wife,
he exclaims : —
Stay ! dares any
Presume to shed a tear before me ; or
Ascribe that worth unto themselves, to merit,
To do so for her ? I have done ; now on.3
And this is characteristic of his love for his wife, and
equally characteristic of heroic love.
The hero is very pure and noble, but his good qualities are
conventional ; he is as much a type as the heroic hero. There
is no fine shading in characterization. He possesses no
individuality which marks him from the heroes of the other
plays. His resemblance to the heroic hero is further seen
lKamdN. K., l : i. * Ibid,, in : i.
3 Thier. and Theod., iv : ii.
THE HEROIC PLAY. 609
in his utter inability to bring about the happy solution.
Philaster and Arbaces who boast so fluently accomplish
nothing. In fact, they have been called "lily-livered
heroes," a title which they deserve better perhaps than the
heroic heroes. Arbaces is ready to say what he will do, but
others solve his difficulty ; Philaster poses very heroically
but is singularly unheroic in his conduct ; Thierry is a mere
tool in the hands of his mother and her agents. The heroic
play attempts to improve on this lily-livered type, and still
further inflates the hero's boastfulness and piles extrava-
gance upon extravagance. The result is that the hero of
the later plays fights well, turns the scale of battle with his
arm alone, makes a tremendous commotion, and yet can be
captured, ignominiously treated, and granted the desire of
his heart only through the agency of others. In this respect
the heroic play is a development of the romantic.
THE HEROINE.
2. Corresponding to the hero is the heroine. Typically
she is eminently pure and noble just as the hero is. There
is no shading in the picture the dramatist draws of her.
She loves ardently but never so as to imperil her virtue or
even to violate the strict laws of morality enjoined by the
heroic play. She stands for purity of conduct when her
lover would sacrifice all for love. She upholds honor ; he
thinks only of love. She maintains complete ascendency
over her lover so that he is forced to do as she says. She
would never consent to violate convention, as Juliet does, in
order to gain her love; nor will she allow her lover to.
Indeed, the heroine is as strictly a conventional type as
the hero.
The heroine of the romantic play is likewise very good.
She has the same supreme love for the hero, the same con-
610 JAMES W. TUPPER.
stancy in face of danger, as the heroine of the heroic play.
But she differs in her attitude towards her lover. She is
not lord over him as the later heroine is; she does not
co^nmand his conduct like Almahide or Indamora. Arethusa,
Panthea, and Ordella are wholly at the mercy of their lovers.
Their attitude is one of virtuous submission to whatever may
be the passion of their lords. They are as strictly conven-
tional in their way as the heroines of the heroic plays are.
Their conventionality is that of highly sentimental maidens
or wives, not of imperious mistresses. Except in the most
general characteristics the heroine of the heroic play bears
but slight resemblance to the heroine of the romantic.
THE LOVE-LORN MAIDEN.
3. The character of the love-lorn maiden was fairly
popular in the heroic play. She is the heroine proper of
the Maiden Queen; in Tyrannic Love she appears as Valeria,
who is in love with the her.o Porphyrius ; in Marriage d, la
Mode she is Amalthea, favored by the king for his supposed
son Leonidas, but soon resigned to the realization that
Leonidas does not love her; and in Aurengzebe Melisinda
supplies the type, since she is deserted by her husband and
mourns for his love throughout the play. Degenerate off-
shoots from this type may possibly be the wicked women
who make unsuccessful suit to the lovers. They are present
in nearly every properly constructed heroic play, and they
are as unfortunate in their love-making and as sentimental
often in their conception of love as the love-lorn maidens
proper. The unfortunate maid herself is of a nobler type,
self-sacrificing, long-suffering, and sentimental to a degree.
Her end in Dryden is usually tragic, as is also the wicked
woman's. The maiden queen gives up her own love for the
sake of the true lovers, when, too, she had them both in her
THE HEROIC PLAY. 611
power. Valeria renounces Porphyrius to save him from the
wrath of her father, the emperor. Amalthea arranges a
meeting between the hero, whom she loves, and the heroine,
his beloved. Melisinda endures all things at the hands of
her unfaithful husband and then sacrifices herself on his
funeral pyre. All these are sentimental enough. Valeria,
the forlorn maiden in Orrery's Black Prince, is disguised as
a boy and waits in attendance on or near her former lover
till the action of the play is near its close, when she is
compelled to reveal herself; then the unexpected happens
and she regains her lover.
This type is more fully represented in the romantic play.
Aspatia,1 Urania,2 and Euphrasia3 love hopelessly ; Spaconia,4
Panthea,4 and Arethusa3 suffer much at the hands of the men
they love, but ultimately marry them and are happy. The
former type is found in Dryden's women ; the latter in
Orrery's Valeria. The work of Beaumont and Fletcher
in the development of this type has thus been indicated : —
"They intensely sentimentalized the character. They em-
phasized over and over again the purity, the meekness, the
utter self-abnegation of these maidens. They were made
eager to serve when they could not marry and supremely
devoted under the most discouraging circumstances. . . .
For pure sentimentality Viola in Twelfth Niglii is a saucy
school girl in comparison with the watery-eyed Aspatia.
The type had never before been presented so elaborately and
with such exaggeration. . . . Just what charm this style of
girl exercised on the stage is, however, difficult to explain,
nor is it necessary. All we need to remember is that they
have little individuality, that they are utterly romantic,
utterly removed from life, dependent for their charm almost
entirely on the poetry with which they are described ; and
1 Maid? s Tragedy. * Oupiffs Revenge.
8 PhUaster. 4 King and No King.
612 JAMES W. TUPPER.
further, that they form one of the most distinguishing
features of the Beaumont-Fletcher romances." l
It would be strange if this type should not persist along-
side of others into the heroic plays. The characters in
Dryden and Orrery, to go no further, are in a somewhat less
degree the same with those in Beaumont and Fletcher.
They possess no qualities not in the earlier characters. The
main difference is that they are not invested in the same
poetic beauty as in the earlier plays. They survive from
the romantic play ; they do not in any way develop the type.
THE UNSUCCESSFUL BIVAL.
4. The unsuccessful rival is the male counterpart of the
lovelorn maiden. He appears as Acacis in the Indian Queen,
as Orbellan in the Indian Emperor, as Placidius in Tyrannic
Love, as Abdelmelech in the Conquest of Granada, as Arga-
leon in Marriage a la Mode, and as Arimant in Aurengzebe;
as Tudor in Henry V, as King John in the Black Prince,
and in dual form as Mustapha and Zanger in Mustapha.
Now, nearly all these characters are extremely sentimental,
and except Orbellan, Argaleon, and King John are very
noble and self-sacrificing. Acacis slays himself on the mere
assurance of his beloved's pity ; Placidius takes a sure way
to his own death by slaying the king ; both know their love
is hopeless and that life contains nothing to justify their
continued existence. Usually these characters do all they
can to help the hero, either in chivalrous obedience to their
beloved or from generous friendship for the accepted lover.
This character as developed hardly exists in the romantic
plays. Pharamond in Philaster is not much of a rival and is
not in the least sentimental. He is like Argaleon in Marriage
1 Thorndike, p. 122 f.
THE HEROIC PLAY. 613
a la Mode, who is favored by the king and is most effect-
ually put in his place by both hero and heroine. Phara-
mond and Argaleon are generously treated by the hero,
when the wheel is come full circle and he has it in his
power to treat them as he will. The sentimental rival is a
counterpart to the sentimental lovelorn maiden. Just as
Dryden in his version of the Tempest creates a counterpart
to Miranda in Hippolito, " one that never saw woman/' and
gave Miranda a sister Dorinda, and Caliban a sister Sycorax,
so in these plays he and his fellows follow the same principle,
and furnish a masculine counterpart to the forlorn maiden
who was left over from the romantic play. The extreme
sentimentality of the character betrays its relation to the
highly sentimental Aspatia, Urania, Euphrasia, and the rest.
THE EVIL WOMEN.
5. In strong contrast to the good women are the evil
women of the heroic play. They are always persons of
high authority, who are capable of carrying out their evil
intentions. They fell in love with the hero, make proposals
of love to him, and are rejected. Henceforth their aim is
to destroy the heroine, whom the hero loves. Their own
marriage relations do not stand in the way of their intention to
gratify their passion ; their husbands or paramours are usually
at the same time making equally unsuccessful love to
the heroine. The queens in the Indian Queen, Indian Em-
peror, and Aurengzebe are all very much alike ; they fall
suddenly in love with the hero and constitute a dangerous
obstacle to his love. The first two repent in their dying
moment ; the last burns up in a raving passion. Lyndaraxa
in the Conquest of Granada differs somewhat from the queens
in that she belongs to the subplot and is engaged in playing
off her two lovers against each other for the gratification of
614 JAMES W. TUPPER.
her ambition. She also manages to propose love to Almanzor,
with the usual result. Ultimately she meets a just death at
the hand of her noble lover. The wicked women in Otway's
plays are of the same kind. Eboli plots against the life of
Don Carlos, when her love is rejected. She is wounded to
death and dies but not before she has dragged the queen and
Don Carlos down to death. In the same way the queen
makes love to Alcibiades and is repulsed; but she has
already poisoned the heroine, who dies in the presence of the
hero. He stabs himself and the queen cheats the gallows
by suicide. The type does not appear in Orrery's plays.
The wicked women are recognized as a distinct type hi
the Beaumont-Fletcher romances.1 They do not play the
same r6le as their counterpart in the heroic play, but in
point of character they are closely related. Megra in
Philaster is much the same as Eboli in Don Carlos, in that
she is quite shameless in her passion and utterly ruthless
in accomplishing her revenge. The villainy of the queen-
mothers in Thierry and Theodoret and A King and No King
is directed against their son and supposed son respectively,
not against any hero who had rejected their love. In this,
however, they show the same ruthlessness and murderous
intentions that the queens in the heroic plays do. They
confess adultery with brazen faces and would commit murder
without turning a hair. Evadne differs from the women of
the heroic play except in her repentance and her atonement
and suicide ; herein she resembles the Indian Queen. Other-
wise she is without a counterpart in the heroic plays. The
situation, so popular in the heroic play, in which the wicked
queen makes unsuccessful suit to the hero is not paralleled
in the Beaumont-Fletcher plays. The nearest approach to
it is, perhaps, in the Double Marriage, where Martia proposes
1 Thorndike, p. 123.
THE HEROIC PLAY. 615
marriage to the hero, is accepted, and is actually married.
Then he repents of his deed and deserts her. From that
follows the tragedy of the play, the deaths of the hero and
his first wife, and the murder of his second. In all these
cases the women are painted consistently black ; their charac-
ters in both heroic and romantic plays are redeemed by
nothing, unless an occasional deathbed repentance be counted
as redemption.
THE WICKED MEN.
6. Corresponding to the wicked queen is the wicked
king. He appears as the paramour Traxalla in the Indian
Queen, as Montezuma in the Indian Emperor, as Maximin
in Tyrannic Love, as Polydamas in Marriage a la Mode,
in a weak form as Boabdelin in the Conquest of Granada,
and as the Emperor and Morat in Aurengzebe. These persons
make unsuccessful love to the heroine — Boabdelin wins the
hand but not the heart of Almahide — and seek to destroy
whatever obstacle is in the way of their love. Similar
characters are in Otway's and some of Orrery's plays.
In the romantic plays there are certain resemblances to
these characters. The king in the Maid's Tragedy, Martius
in the Triumph of Honour, suggest the more conventionalized
villain of the later plays. The type was, however, not
formed in the romantic play. It may be regarded as another
counterpart of a well-established type in the romantic play,
in this case that of the wicked women. The balance of
characters is a mark of the heroic play and stands, of course,
for extreme artificiality as against the freer treatment of the
romantic.
in. LOVE AND HONOR.
The situation developed in the Conquest of Granada is the
occasion of a conflict between the hero, who stands primarily
616 JAMES W. TUPPER.
for love, and the heroine, who is true to honor. This con-
flict shows itself in their conduct as well as in their frequent
"disputes." The same situation confronts the queen and
her lover in Tyrannic Love as well as the lovers in the
Indian Emperor, Marriage a la Mode, and Aurengzebe. In
all these cases the heroine regards herself as bound by moral
ties to the persons opposing the hero. Almahide is betrothed
and later married to Boabdelin ; Berenice is the wife of
Maximin; Cydaria and Palmyra are the daughters respec-
tively of Montezuma and Polydamas, and therefore differ in
point of view from their lovers, and Indamora cannot over-
look Aurengzebe's duty as a son. In Henry V Tudor has
to decide between his friendship for his king and his love
for Katherine, whom the king also loves. King John has
the same problem in the Black Prince. In Tryphon there are
three pairs of lovers and the man in each pair has to decide
between his love and some pressing emotion or duty. The
situation in Don Carlos is the same as that in the Conquest of
Granada, except that the end is tragic. The "dispute"
concerning the respective demands of love and honor is very
artificial and stilted and is made even more so by the
stychomythic form in which it is frequently put. It retards
the action, often when action is most demanded. This
"amatory battledore and shuttlecock/' as Saintsbury calls
it, will break in upon the progress of the plot, which
cannot move till the lovers have settled their dispute to their
satisfaction. In few of these plays does the conflict ever
resolve itself into an absolute choice between love and honor.
A convenient death in Drydeu's plays resolves the question
of honor, or the force of circumstances removes responsi-
bility ; a compromise puts the troubled rival of Orrery's
plays at his ease ; and death swallows up love and honor in
Otway's. One feels that all such disputing is the vainest of
dead literary fashions.
THE HEROIC PLAY. 617
This problem plays no such part in the romances, though
it appears in several of them. In A King and No King it
is the problem of the play in that the king must choose
between loving his sister and preserving his honor and hers.
A fortunate discovery saves him from making a decision.
In the Triumph of Honour the wife remains constant in
honor, while the husband wavers between honor as repre-
sented by his wife's chastity, and honor as represented by
her obligation to fulfil a thoughtless vow. A somewhat
similar case is that of Ordella in Thierry and Theodoret; she
is ready to sacrifice her life for her husband's honor as
involved in the fulfilment of his vow, while he refuses to do
violence to his love by fulfilling his vow. This is not the
conventional conflict between love and honor, but it is plainly
allied to it. This matter of love and honor had not become
crystallized into a convention in the romantic plays. The
conflict was only slight, incidental, not by any means a
recognized dramatic situation. Hotspur felt the fascination
of honor, but never saw in it a foe to love. The discreet
Falstaff made fun of it. Indeed there was a tendency to
make fun of this extravagant honor. Nicodemus in the
Triumph of Honour says : —
Honour pricks ; —
And, sutler, now I come with thwacks and thwicks.1
This disrespectful treatment of honor persisted into the heroic
play and voices the hero's opposition to the enemy of love.
Aurengzebe says : —
Honour which only does the name advance
Is the mere raving madness of romance.2
It is not till we reach the heroic play that we find a
recognized opposition of love to honor, and then love is
given the preference. The dispute, too, is a later develop-
1Sc. i.
* Aurengzebe, n : i. See also Chase : The English Heroic Play, pp. 124 f.
618 JAMES W. TUPPER.
ment ; it can hardly be regarded as existing in the romantic
play.
IV. STAGE EFFECTS.
As a further means of winning popular approval the
heroic dramatists, especially Dryden, furnished forth their
plays with stage effects of a largely spectacular and in some
cases sensational nature. This is quite in keeping with the
effective situations and denouements already noted as charac-
teristic of both the heroic and the romantic plays, though of
a less artistic order. Theatric effectiveness must be gained
by somewhat adventitious scenic effects and startling situations
as well as by events arising more directly out of the plot.
These theatric effects may be roughly grouped as (a) singing
and dancing followed by a sudden change sometimes in vio-
lent contrast to what preceded ; (6) an incantation in which
the future is darkly revealed somewhat in the semblance of
a masque; (c) torture scenes and scenes of combat. Evi-
dently much care was spent on these scenes so that the
representation might meet the design of the author. In
the Indian Queen (in, i) " Zempoalla appears seated upon
her slaves in triumph, and the Indians, as to celebrate the
victory, advance in a warlike dance ; in the midst of which
triumph, Acacis and Montezuma fall in upon them." The
two men enter to demand Orazia and her father from the
queen. Still more effective is the situation in the Indian
Emperor (rv, ii), which is thus described : "A pleasant grotto
discovered ; in it a fountain spouting ; round about it Vas-
quez, Pizarro, and other Spaniards, lying carelessly unarmed,
and by them many Indian women, one of which sings the
following song [Song] . After the song two Spaniards arise,
and dance a saraband with castanietas : At the end of which
Guyomar and his Indians enter, and, ere the Spaniards can
recover their swords, seize them." This bit of stage-craft
ends in the release in the same scene of the Spaniards on
THE HEROIC PLAY. 619
their promising Odmar, one of the Indians, to secure him a
woman he loves. The scene is given an importance in the
plot it does not deserve, though it is not wholly extraneous.
The Zambra dance in I Conquest of Granada (in, i) is
followed immediately by " a tumultuous noise of drums and
trumpets " and by the entrance of Ozmyn, who announces
the enemy at the gate. In the second part (iv, iii) Espe-
ranza's song is followed immediately by the appearance of
the ghost of Almanzor's mother, who warns her son against
"known crimes of lawless love." There was therefore a
double gain, first, in the rather picturesque setting for the
song and in the beauty of the song and the dance, and,
second, in the violent contrast produced by the irruption of
persons who completely changed the character of the scene.1
In the incantation scenes there is a mixture of the masque
and the ghost scenes. In the Indian Queen (m, ii) Zem-
poalla consults a conjuror, who summons the spirits to reveal
the future. Thereupon the God of Dreams rises to warn
her against seeking to know the future. This so dejects the
queen that the conjuror calls the aerial spirits to " bring her
soul back to its harmony." Their song fails, however, to
compose her, and she leaves the cell with threats of destruc-
tion. Somewhat more elaborate is the scene enacted in the
Indian Emperor (11, i), where Montezuma seeks the aid of
the High Priest in an endeavor to know Almeria's mind.
One spirit foretells disaster, whereupon the Priest summons
a more favorable spirit, who predicts happiness which is
conditional on conduct. Then unsummoned the ghosts of
Traxalla and Acacis arise and point out Montezuma, though
why Acacis, who had always been a faithful friend to Monte-
zuma, should in spirit shape seek to terrify him is not clear.
At any rate they both fail, but when the "ghost of the
Indian Queen rises betwixt the ghosts, with a dagger in her
1 Compare too the simple form of the Masque in Marriage & la Mode,
IV :iiL
13
620 JAMES W. TUPPEE.
breast," his hair grows stiff, his eyeballs roll. Her prophecy
is equally terrifying. The speeches of some of the super-
natural beings are in lyric measure in keeping with the
characters of the speakers, and thus suggestive of the masque.
In Tyrannic Love (iv, i) the masque effect is more de-
veloped. The scene is an Indian cave. Nigrinus, the
conjuror, enters "with two drawn swords, held upward in
his hands," and summons the spirits Nakar and Damilcar,
who carry on a lyric dialogue when descending in clouds ;
when the clouds part, Nakar flies up and Damilcar down.
The latter gives riddling responses to the questions put to
him, and then stamps, whereupon St. Catharine is revealed to
them and " a scene of a Paradise is discovered," while the
spirit sings. "At the end of the song a Dance of Spirits.
After which Amariel, the guardian angel of S. Catharine,
descends to soft music, with a flaming sword. The spirits
crawl off the stage amazedly, and Damilcar runs to a corner
of it." Damilcar cringes while Amariel denounces him.
The verse in which the spirits speak is in lyric measure in
keeping with their supernatural character.
Somewhat allied to these scenes are the torture scenes
in the Indian Queen (v, i), the Indian Emperor (v, ii), and
Alcibiades (v), the spectacle of the torture wheel destroyed
by the angel in Tyrannic Love (v, i), the grand display of
the fight for the honor of Almahide between her champions
and her traducers in n Conquest of Granada (v, ii). Ghost
scenes are no more the property of the heroic play than of
other classes of serious plays. All these stage effects are for
the most part not essential to the action, though they are not
detached from the action. Their purpose is primarily to
interest by an appeal to easily awakened emotions, such as a
fondness for lyric dialogue and song, for the spectacle of
supernatural beings appearing and disappearing, for the sight
of men writhing in torture, for the splendor of a tourney at
THE HEROIC PLAY. 621
arms, and the like. Primarily these things interest the
spectator, secondarily they bear some relation, more or less
intimate, to the development of the action. They are artifi-
cial expedients to enhance interest in the heroic play.
Now the idea of these devices was not new to the heroic
dramatists. The masque was a favorite form of dramatic
entertainment in the years 1608-1611, and, says Thorndike,
"there can be no doubt that Beaumont and Fletcher turned
to them for stage pageantry .... In the Four Plays, the
various deities that descend and ascend, the numerous pro-
cessions, and the curious machinery where l the mist ariseth
and the rocks remove/ are all like similar performances in
the court masques." * Likewise it is pointed out that in
other plays of Beaumont and Fletcher, eighteen in all, the
masque appears to a greater or less extent. The masque in
the Humorous Lieutenant (iv, iii) is exactly of the kind we
find in Dryden's plays ; other plays have masque-like scenes
of similar nature. The Maid's Tragedy has a complete
masque of more pretensions than anything in Dryden. It is
evident that these scenes as they appear in Beaumont and
Fletcher's and Shakspere's romantic plays may readily be
considered as the model of corresponding scenes in the heroic
plays. There are gods and supernatural beings ascending
and descending, incantations and prophecies of the future,
dances by goddesses, nymphs, shepherds, and the like, songs,
and fine spectacular effects. The lyric measure of the verse
and the musical effects link these scenes with the masque on
the one hand and with corresponding scenes in the heroic plays
on the other. The torture scenes, the tourney, and the dance
are an outcome in the more artificial drama of the desire for
effects that appeal for instant approval, and are not the
direct development of situations in the romantic plays.
JAMES W. TUPPER.
1 Op. tit., p. 131.
'
XIX.— DOUBTS CONCERNING THE BRITISH HIS-
TORY ATTRIBUTED TO NENNIUS.1
This treatise, which contains the earliest notice of Arthur,
deserves a place in the history of literature as foundation of
Geoffrey of Monmouth's Historia Regum Britanniae.
The work begins with brief chronological and geographi-
cal chapters, proceeds with accounts of British origins,
mentions of Roman imperial time, recital of Saxon advent
in the form of a biography of Wortigern (the core of the
document), and allusions to British struggles against Kentish
and Northumbrian kings ; it exhibits, therefore, a measure of
sequence which partly justifies its title of Historia Britonum.2
Respecting the date of composition opinions have been
various. Until lately, scholars set the time either in the
ninth century,3 according to statements contained in the docu-
ment, or in the eleventh century,4 if these statements were
regarded as irrelevant or forged. Recent writers have been
more liberal in concession of antiquity. Zimmer thought the
treatise to have been compiled by Nennius in 796. Duchesne,
Mommsen, and Thurneysen accept the part assigned to
Nennius, whom however they regard only as editor of pre-
1 T. Mommsen, Historia Britonum cum additamentis Nennii, Monumenta
Germanise Historica, auct. antiquis., xni, Berlin, 1894. — L. Duchesne,
Nennius retractatus, in Revue Celtique, xv, 1894, 174-197 (contains text of
MS. of Chartres). — Recent literature: G. Heeger, tjber die Trojanersage
der Britten, Munich, 1886 ; H. Zimmer, Nennius vindicatus. Uber entste-
hung, gesckichte und quellen der Historia Britonum, Berlin, 1893 ; R. Thur-
neysen, Nennius vindicatus, in Zeitschrift fur Deutsche Phttologie, xxvin, 1895,
80-113.
2 In the Middle Ages this name, or Historia Britannica, was often be-
stowed on the history of Geoffrey of Monmouth.
3 So Scholl, La Borderie, G. Paris (see Heeger, op. tit., p. 19 f. ).
4 Wright, Heeger.
622
DOUBTS CONCERNING NENNIUS. 623
existing material. Mommsen supposes the work to have
been composed by the end of the seventh century. To my
own mind, the evidence for so early a period is inadequate ;
concerning the period and character of the compilation I
desire to submit observations, which of necessity must take
the form of a commentary ; it will be understood that these
are offered under the reserves proper to an obscure and com-
plicated subject, in which an investigator can hardly hope
entirely to escape error.
The MSS. may be divided into five groups : (1) the frag-
mentary and recently discovered codex of Chartres (ninth or
tenth century, according to Mommsen), ascribed to a certain
son of Urbacen ; (2) what may be called the accepted text,
represented by that codex of the Harleian library (eleventh
or twelfth century), anonymous, which forms the basis of the
critical edition ; (3) MSS. offering a text in general accordant
with the preceding, but referring the authorship to Gildas ;
(4) a text formed by a combination of that of Chartres with
the Gildas type, professing to have been prepared by Marcus
a hermit, and represented by a codex of the Vatican library
(eleventh century) ; (5) MSS. in the main answering to the
third class, but adding a preface of Nennius, as well as
certain other increments; with these is affiliated an Irish
translation of the late eleventh century (a fragment in Lebor
na h-Uidriof 1106).
The codex of Chartres stands by itself, in sharp contrast
with all other texts. The fragment breaks off in the account
of the Saxon invasion, and in this section does not materially
differ ; but the prefixed chapters, which in the accepted text
form a connected story, are few and isolated. There can be
no question that this type is independent of Harleian ; the
only doubt must be, whether (after making allowance for a
bad copy) Chartres gives us that same older text, which in
Harleian is expanded and rearranged, or whether the two
624 WILLIAM WELLS NEWELL.
have a common source in an earlier original, which the
former has mutilated and abstracted, the latter enlarged
and recombined.1 In the title of Chartres, the treatise is
described as consisting of extracts from a life of Saint
Germanus, accompanied with an account of British origins.2
From the absence of mention, it may be inferred that the
Arthuriana and other documents appended to the story of
Wortigern were not included.
In the twelfth century we find William of Malmesbury
and Henry of Huntingdon treating the document as authori-
tative. A little earlier, but only at the end of the eleventh
century, may be dated Hugo of Flavigny and Chronicon
Vedastinum, cited by Mommsen.
Earlier alleged notices seem to me unproved. (1) A MS.
of Corpus Christi College in Cambridge, ascribed to the end
of the tenth century, contains a concordant date of the Saxon
advent ; the passage answers to the text of Chartres and not
to that of Harleian ; the agreement may depend on the use
of common literary material.3 (2) Cormac MacCuilenain
(ninth century) ; that this Irish writer used the Historia is
merely an unfounded guess.4 (3) Heiric of Auxerre (about
880) has a parallel chapter, but according to the view taken
1 The latter view is that of Mommsen ( who prints Chartres only as variae
lectiones).
"According to Mommsen the title runs : " Incipiunt Exberta fu Urbacen
de libro sancti German! inventa et origine et genealogia Britonum." Fu
torfii, i. e.,filii. Exberta is supposed by Thurneysen an error for ezcerpta,
since the Nennius preface uses this word ; but the writer of the preface did
not knew a text answering to Chartres, hence is not an authority.
3 Mommsen, p. 132 ; see below, p. 640, note 4.
* In his History of Ireland, Keating cites from the lost Psalter of Cashel
statements concerning Partholon, etc., evidently founded on the Historia;
the Psalter he cites as a work of the holy Cormac, son of Cuileannan (1,
6). The Psalter is referred to the early eleventh century ; Keating could
have had no reason for his ascription, save his fancy that Cormac, as an
ecclesiastic of Cashel, must needs have been engaged in the composition.
DOUBTS CONCERNING NENNIU8. 625
below, did not know the Historia.1 (4) Beda : because of
agreement in a single date (of Harleian and not Chartres)
Mommsen supposes that he was acquainted with the compi-
lation ; the concordance can equally well be interpreted in
the reverse direction 2 ; I shall give reasons for believing that
Beda, used at first or second hand, supplied suggestions to
the various writers of the Historia.
Indications of time contained in the treatise itself are
numerous, but so divergent that no two agree. This variety
has usually been explained as a result of successive editions,
in which each editor introduced his own date. However, it
is by no means clear that any of the notices were intended
to give dates of composition. A large allowance must be
made for scribal error, misconception, and absolute forgery.
Among chronological mentions which may be taken as
determinations of authorship none are included in the older
text of Chartres.
Remarks may be arranged according to the successive
sections, beginning with the preface.
Apologia of Nennius. — The author, who names himself as
Nennius, a disciple of Elvodugus, explains that in his
opinion it is worth while to present extracts containing
information which the stupid and ignorant doctors of Britain
have overlooked. Accordingly, he has made a compilation
from Roman annals and ecclesiastical chronicles, that is to
say from Hieronymus, Eusebius, Isidorus, and Prosper, from
annals of Scots and Saxons, and from the books and tradi-
tions of his own country; he apologizes for the defects of
his literary style.
Elbodugus or Elbodg is mentioned in the so-called Annales
Cambriae as having changed the date of Easter in 768, and
as dying in 809.
»P. 653, below. *P. 638, below.
626 WILLIAM WELLS NEWELL.
In documents of this type, it is not unusual to find an
unprefaced work provided with a fictitious prologue ; while
it is entirely in the usual course that an anonymous book
should be attributed to some scholar of local celebrity (as in
this case also to Gildas). The preface has evidently been
prepared by some one who had before him the completed
text of the treatise. It appears in the first instance as a
marginal gloss contained in a MS. of the twelfth century ; l
under ordinary conditions, the chapter would unhesitatingly
be set aside as a forgery.
Zimmer, however, offered an ingenious defence, based on
the character of the Irish version. To all appearance, this
was made from a codex of the fifth class; Zimmer held
that the rendering shows certain superiorities, which prove
that the translator could not have been limited to such a
text, but must have had in his possession a Latin copy of
a form better than any existing MS., so that the translation
has claims to consideration parallel with any Latin copy.
This doctrine involves the genuineness of the preface, its
subsequent omission from the MSS., and eventual restoration
through the margin.2 In order to establish so improbable a
relation, the advantages of the Irish rendering ought to be
very apparent. A further difliculty arises from the exces-
sively free procedure of the Irishman, who abbreviated,
transposed, added, and glossed according to his pleasure.3
1 According to Mommsen, MSS. D and C, in which the preface is marginal,
are so alike as to form but one testimony, while those MSS. in which the
preface has crept into the text are no more than copies of these.
2 The question is complicated by additions contained in the Nennius
texts, also in the first instance marginal glosses, by a writer who calls him-
self the pupil of one Beulan. This glossator, it would appear, pretends
personally to have known Elvodugus ; see below, p. 667, note 1 ; Thur-
neysen, pp. 63, 97.
3 The extent of the translator's freedom is well set forth by Heeger, in a
review of Zimmer' s work ; Oottingische Odehrie Anzeigen, May, 1894, pp.
399 ff.
DOUBTS CONCERNING NENNIUS. 627
However, so far are the merits of the translation from being
obvious, that the instances of alleged advantage are both few
and insignificant ; a rearrangement in the interest of lucidity
is entirely in the writer's style ; apart from this, there is no
single case in which readers of the version will not be likely
to prefer the Latin text.1 Again, the discovery of the text
of Chartres, not used by Zimmer, shows that Nennius at
most could have been only an editor, and that if he did
profess to be responsible for the work, he deceived his
readers. Under these circumstances, it appears to me that
there is no necessity to disturb the shade of Nennius, which
might rather be allowed to repose peacefully in that limbo
provided for ghosts of fictitious personages.
From this point I follow the divisions of the accepted
text, with comparison of Chartres.
I. Six Ages of the World, cc. 1-6. — These are noted, and
their duration estimated. The matter will hereafter receive
consideration.
II. Geography, c. 7. — The island of Britain is said to
have received its name from a Roman consul Brutus.2
Mention is made of its dimensions, rivers, subordinate isles,
and twenty-eight cities. It is said to be inhabited by four
nations, Scots, Picts, Saxons, and Britons.
In the year 138, B. c., D. Junius Brutus, surnamed Callaicus,
while campaigning in Further Spain, came in view of the
ocean, and saw the sun set in its waters. This event was
thought of sufficient importance to be mentioned in the
1 The only cases sufficiently salient to allow examination are passages
associated with the names of Damhoctor (p. 635, note 1, below), and
Equitius (p. 640, below). The translator, or the Latin text he used, may
have made a correction or two from the Vatican text : see Thurneysen, p. 82.
* "Britannia insula a quodam Bruto consule Romano dicta."
628 WILLIAM WELLS NEWELL.
chronology of Hieronymus ; the writer in the Historia, or a
predecessor, thought that since Brutus got so far, it was only
reasonable to suppose that he had also crossed the sea, and
had given his name to Britain.
The twenty-eight cities are mentioned in the present tense,
as if still extant. Beda, in his geographical chapter, gives a
similar notice, but describes them as things of the past.
The source of both writers is the De Excidio Britanniae,
attributed to Gildas, where the language is ambiguous, and
can be taken as either past or present ; but that the cities
were not existing at the time is shown by another sentence ;
in speaking of traffic on the Thames and Severn, De Excidio
states that it had once been great. The word olim is taken
up into the Historia ; it is evident, therefore, that the author
of the latter used the present tense, not as having any rela-
tion to his own date, but because he understood that the
language of his source bore that signification. This makes
a first example of a practice which will appear to be frequent ;
the tense may be called an antiquarian present.1
A similar remark applies to the establishment of four
nations, including Picts ; the mention may be borrowed from
Beda.2
(2) Roman and Trojan origins. — These are obtained in
four different ways. The obscurity may be in some measure
elucidated by preliminary remarks.
1 De Excidioy c. 3: "Britannia insula .... bis denis bisque quaternis
civitatibus ac nonnullis castellis .... decorata." Beda, 1, 1 : " Erat et
civitatibus quondam xx et viii nobilissimis insignita, praeter castella
innumera . . . ." Historia, c. 7: "in ea sunt viginti octo civitates et
innumerabilia promontoria cum innumeris castellis . . . . et in ea habitant
quattuor gentes, Scotti, Picti, Saxones, atque Brittones." Observe the
word innumeris, apparently a reminiscence of Beda.
"Hist, cedes., HI, 6.
DOUBTS CONCERNING NENNIU8. 629
Before the first of these notices was prepared, the Historia,
in its process of gradual accretion, seems first to have added
the geographical chapter. The initial words of this section
derive the name of Britain from a Roman consul ; if a
Brutus were name-giver of the land, it would be natural to
make him also an eponym of the folk ; but for such service
the consul of B. c. 138 was too recent; a glossator, accord-
ingly, posited a Brutus sufficiently remote to answer for
fore-father. In this essay, as usual, he turned to the ever-
ready hand-book, the chronology of Jerome-Eusebius.
On the basis of hints furnished by Virgil, Jerome was
able to assign dates to early Latin kings. The first was of
course Aeneas, the second his son Ascanius, the third his
later son, Silvius surnamed Postumus, who is credited with
a reign of twenty-eight years, and who became the ancestor
of Latin sovereigns, all surnamed Silvii. If Britons came
from a Roman house, through Rhea Silvia they must be
descended from Silvius Postumus, and through Aeneas
from Trojans. The first legend-maker went no further,
carried back the eponym only to the foundation of Rome,
and did not find his invention adequate to the construction
of a migration legend.
Jerome supplied a second entry calculated to produce
imitation. In a spirit of delicate flattery, Virgil made the
Julii descend from lulus (Ilus, eponym of Ilium), son of
Aeneas, also called Ascanius. The latter, as forefather
of Julii, must, thought commentators, have had a son named
Julius ; and to such a Julius Jerome gave a birth-date of
870 years after Abraham.1 If the Roman imperial house
was honored by a descent from Aeneas, the eponym of
Britons deserved a like distinction ; it was only necessary to
1 "Ascanius Julium procreavit a quo familia Juliorum orta, et propter
aetatem parvuli, quia necdum regendis civibus idoneus erat, Silvium Pos-
t ui n i in i fratrem suum regni reliquit haeredem."
630 WILLIAM WELLS NEWELL.
treat the original Brutus as Jerome had treated Julius ; and
this later glossators proceeded to effect.
(a) Brutus, son of Rhea Silvia, c. 11. Chartres. — Britons
descend from Romans and Greeks. They are Romans, as
derived from a Roman family to which belonged Brutus the
consul who occupied Britain, and which was founded by an
elder Brutus, son of Rhea Silvia, and third brother to
Romulus and Remus ; Britons, accordingly, come from the
stock of Silvius, son of Aeneas, and their kings, like the
Roman, are entitled to the epithet of Silvii ; through Aeneas,
they go back to Dardanus the Trojan. The latter, however,
was himself a Greek emigri; hence Britons are also Greeks.1
Vatican. — The passage is amended by omitting the name
of Brutus, son of Rhea; Britons are said to come from
Silvius Postumus, but we are not told in what manner.
Ancient writers, also desirous to annex the Trojan glory,
had insisted that Dardanus originally came from their own
country; Servius made him an Italian, Isidorus, whom the
Historia follows, a Greek.2
Here we perceive the antiquarian manner of expression ;
1 The passage in Chartres is full of scribal errors : " De Eomanis et
Grecis trahunt ethimologiam, id est de matre Labina filia Latini regis
Italie et patre Siluianiae (read Siluii filii Eneae), filii Enachi, filii Dardani,
filii Dardanus, filii Saturni. Eex Gothorum (read Grecorum ; so Vatican)
perrexit ad partem Asiae, et Trous filius Dardani edificauit urbem Troie.
... Et de stripe (i. e., stirpe) Silluii filii Eneae ex Labina orti sunt
Remus et Romulus et Brutus, tres filii regine sanctimonialis pro ///mi (?)
Reae, qui fecerunt Romam. Brutus consul fuit in Roma epiromanus
quando expugnavit Hispaniam et detraxit in seruitutem Rome, et postea
tenuit Britanniam insulam quam habitant Britones filius illi olli Siluio
Posthumo. ..."
Vatican alters the word epiromanus to imperil Romani, but has epiromanus
in c. 3 ; a proof, I think, of what is otherwise sufficiently clear, that the
editor had before him a text like that of Chartres, which he in some
measure recast.
2Etym., ix, 2, 67.
DOUBTS CONCERNING NENNIU8. 631
Britons are said to inhabit the whole island, Saxon time
being passed over.
(b) Brito, brother of Postumus, c. 11. Chartres. — At the
period when Eli was priest in Israel, and the ark fell into
the hands of the Gentiles, Brito reigned in Britain, and his
brother Postumus over Latins.
Harleian. — The words are retained, but receive a preface.
Reigns of Latin kings are given ; Silvius is assigned twelve
years, and his son Postumus thirty-nine years.
The writer in Chartres probably intended to make the
eponymic Brutus (instead of a third brother to Romulus and
Remus) a third brother to Ascanius and Silvius Posthumus.
This the recaster did not understand or approve ; he there-
fore, by dividing the personality of the latter, created a new
king Postumus, to whom he gave a term of years in excess
of that allowed by Jerome for the third Latin king. His
spelling Brito shows that his copy of the Historic, already
contained the Frankish Chronicle.
(c) Brutus, son of Hisidon and grandson of Rhea Silvia,
c. 18. Chartres, Harleian. — Frankish and Roman explana-
tions are concorded, by making the Alanus of the Frankish
Table a son of Rhea Silvia. A pedigree is carried to Japhet.
(d) Brutus, son of Silvius Postumus, c. 10. Harleian. —
Silvius, son of Aeneas, has a son who, according to prophecy,
is destined to destroy father and mother, and incur universal
odium. The prediction is fulfilled ; this son, named Brutus,
is obliged to go into exile, and flies to isles of the Tyrrhene
(i. e., Mediterranean) Sea, whence he is expelled by Greeks
willing to avenge the death of Turnus at the hands of Aeneas,
his grandfather. He resorts to Gaul, where in memory of
Turnus he founds the city of Tours, and finally arrives in
Britain, which land is still peopled by his descendants.
632 WILLIAM WELLS NEWELL.
Vatican. — The chapter is freely edited. Brutus is made a
son of Ascanius ; the prediction affirms that he will become
a general favorite.
It seems strange, in a Welsh document, to find an echo of
the adage bruti Britones ; but such seems to be the case with
the prophecy.
The passage is a recast and substitution ; the migration
legend is now supplied which is wanting in (a), and the
latter suppressed.
In making Brutus a son of Ascanius, the editor of Vatican
evidently had in mind the similar descent of the Julius
already mentioned ; we perceive with what clear conscious-
ness these fictions were elaborated.
In these British origin legends, the two primary accounts
(those connected with the Frankish Table and with Brutus,
son of Rhea) seem to have been independently added by
different hands ; with the desire of antiquity or harmony,
two other explanations were interpolated, and all these we
have in Chartres ; the recaster, to whom we owe the text
of Harleian, substituted for the notice concerning Brutus,
brother of Romulus, a more elaborate legend of his own,
making Brutus a son of Silvius. This last was accepted by
Geoffrey of Monmouth, through whom Brutus the Trojan
became a literary personage.
The Trojan stories of the Histoiia have a considerable
resemblance to the earlier tales respecting the Trojan ancestry
of Franks. In both the suggestion seems to have been that
of assonance, both were elaborated by the aid of Virgil ; in
origin, however, they seem to have been quite independent.1
The reviser who produced the accepted text (of Harleian)
chose to punctuate his undigested material, in such manner
1 Mommsen supposes that the Frankish story depended on a misspelling
of a Colonia Traia.ua as Troiana, Mon. Germ. Hist. , auct. antiquis. , ix, 619.
DOUBTS CONCERNING NENNIUS. 633
as to emphasize his own addition ; l he did not attempt
further to introduce clearness ; the Irish translator, however,
effected a rearrangement.
Between the various accounts are intercalated (in the later
text only) migration legends relating to Picts and Scots (i. e.,
Irish).
B. Picts, c. 12. Harleian. — After an interval of not less
than 800 years came Picts, who occupied the islands called
Orcades, thence devastated many regions, and settled the
north part of Britain, where they remain, occupying the third
portion of the island to the present day.2
The source is Beda, who in his first chapter describes the
voyage of Picts from Scythia, as they themselves affirm,3
their unsuccessful attempt to settle in Ireland, and occupa-
tion of North Britain.
The intermediate station at the Orkneys is added by the
writer in the Historic,.
The statement that Picts still occupy a third of Britain
appears sufficiently categorical ; nevertheless, the mention is
only another example of the antiquarian present, similar to
that just noticed in the case of Britons. The model seems
to be the language of Beda, who speaks of Pictish matri-
archy as in his day still existing.4
C. Scots, (a). From Spain to Ireland, c. 13. — Last of all
Scots migrated from Spain. (1) First came a certain Par-
tholomus, with a thousand men ; these were eventually swept
1The words "hoc experimentum bifarie inveni" (c. 10), and "aliud
experimentum inveni" (c. 17) are additions of the reviser.
2 Et rnanent ibi tertiam partem Britanniae tenentes usque in hodiernum
diem.
3 From Scythia because of their association with Scots who were Scythians.
See below.
4 Quod usque hodie apud Pictos constat esse servatum.
634 WILLIAM WELLS NEWELL.
away by famine and pestilence. Next Nimeth, son of Agno-
men, with his company, after being sea-tossed for a year and
a half, effected a landing, but finally returned to Spain.
Finally three sons of a Spanish knight arrived in thirty
ships, and remained a year. From the shore they perceived
in the midst of the sea a tower of glass, on the summit of
which were standing men ; they attacked the castle, but were
swallowed up by the waves ; one vessel, with a crew of
thirty men, having been wrecked, had taken no part; hence
descended the population of Ireland.
Glass, by reason of its splendor, is a fairy material ; an
isle of glass is known to French medieval romance.1 In
this tale, the waters seem to swallow assailants of sea-fairies.
It is likely, therefore, that the interpolator who added this
passage really obtained his material from Irish informants.
The connection of Spain with Ireland seems to have
depended mainly on the assonance of the names Iberia and
Hibernia. Again, according to mediaeval geography, Spain
was opposite Ireland.2
In this chapter the Irish translator employed a very free
hand, interpolating additional races, notably the Firbolg and
Tuatha De Danann. These peoples play a great part in
Irish mediaeval literature, and their fortunes are related
in elaborate texts. The relation of these to the Historia
and to the Irish version involves the solution of complicated
problems, not yet adequately discussed, and cannot here be
taken up, especially as the inquiry has only a remote connec-
tion with the sources and date of the Historia.
(b) Scots from Spain to Britain, c. 14- — The last emigrant
was Damhoctor, whose race settled in various regions of
1 Crestien, Erec, 1947.
2 "Hibernia . . . usque contra Hispaniae septentrionalia, quamvis magno
aequore interjaciente pervenit." — Beda, 1, 1.
DOUBTS CONCERNING NENNIU8. 635
Britain. Istoreth, son of Istorinus, took possession of Dal-
riada, Builc and his followers took the Isle of Man, the
children of Liethan occupied South Wales and adjacent
districts, until they were expelled by Cuneda.
Since Darahoctor is called the last emigrant, it seems
necessary to suppose that Istoreth and the rest were meant
to pass for his descendants. The Irish translator makes
Damhoctor settle in Ireland. Some texts of the version, in
place of the proper name, read dam ochtor, a company of
eight ; the reading has been taken to prove that the Tenderer
must have had more precise information concerning the Irish
stories used by the writer of the Latin text ; to my mind,
however, the Irish words must be set down as only a piece
of folk-etymology.1
(c) Scots from Egypt to Spain, c. 15. — According to learned
Scots, after Pharaoh had been drowned in the Red Sea, a
noble Scythian was resident in Egypt ; him the Egyptians,
in their weakened condition fearing his power, expelled from
their country ; he wandered through Asia for forty-two
years,2 some of the stations being named, and afterwards
crossed to Spain, where his descendants multiplied, this
happened at the time of that Brutus, with whom began
Roman consuls.
This chapter does not supply an alternative origin, but is
given as a supplement to the statement already made ; in the
two previous chapters we have learned in what manner Scots
arrived in Ireland and Britain from Spain ; we now learn
how they had been established in the latter country.
1 Zimmer thinks the translator's language and arrangement to indicate a
better Latin text ; to my mind the version is made from the text we
possess.
"After the "Peutinger Table," Mommsen, p. 115.
14
636 WILLIAM WELLS NEWELL.
The Pictish Chronicle, apparently belonging to the end of
the tenth century, gives to the Scots alternative derivations ;
they came from Scythia (Scoti for Sciti) ; or else they are
named after their queen Scotta, daughter of Pharaoh.1
Scotta figures in another migration legend. The author
of the Life of St. Cadroe (eleventh century) relates that the
folk of Choriscon, a town on the Pactolus, resolve to migrate
to Thrace; they pass through the Hellespont, coast Crete
and Sicily, whence a storm drives them to the Illyrian Sea
and to Spain near the Ebro. They pass the Pillars of
Hercules, traverse the ocean, and attain Ultima Thule, com-
ing in view of the mountains of Ireland.2 This happened
in the day of Crassus, Pompey and Csesar. Landing at
Cloin on the Shannon, they occupy Armagh and other locali-
ties. After some years they cross to Britain, arrive at Ross,
and name the country at first Chorischia, afterwards Scotia,
from Scotta, the Egyptian wife of their Lacedaemonian
leader Nelus or Niulus. The model for the voyage is
furnished by the Aeneid ; the writer remarks that neither
Aeneas nor Ulysses had endured equal sufferings.
It will be seen that the Life and the Historia exhibit
no sign of mutual acquaintance. Both accounts deal with
migration of Scots as a chosen people, resembling in their
fortunes the children of Israel ; both indulge in synchron-
isms, possess a similar style, and seem to bear the marks of
a like period of historical speculation.
1 Chronicle: "Sciendum vero est quod Britones in tertia mundi etate ad
Britanniam venerunt ; Scite autem, id est Scotti, in quarta etate Scociam
sive Hiberniam obtinuerunt." — Skene, op. tit., p. 3. Historia: "Brittones
venerunt in tertia aetate mundi ad Britanniam : Scotti autem in quarta
obtinuerunt Hiberniam." — C. 15.
2W. F. Skene, Chronicle of the Picte, etc. Edinburgh, 1867, p. 107.
The Life names the part of the Irish coast first seen as Cruachan Eile ; this
is the height on which Saint Patrick fasted, and (according to the later
legend followed in the Historia) received certain boons from the Almighty
(p. 659, below).
DOUBTS CONCERNING NENNIUS. 637
The Life evidently borrows the name Scotta from the
Pictish Chronicle. The Historia does not name Scotta, but
it seems probable that the author of the passage conceived
of his Scythian noble as the husband of that lady ; he con-
cords the Scythian and Egyptian origins, which in the
Chronicle are only alternative. Finally, the Historia uses
identical language ; it seems, therefore, that the Pictish
Chronicle must be assumed as a source, and that the Irish
migration legends did not find a place in the compilation
before the eleventh century, which must be set down as the
date of the revised text of Harleian.
IV. Roman emperors in Britain, Chartres. — The text con-
tains two separate paragraphs, both dealing with the wars of
Julius Csesar, but obviously from different hands.
(1) c. o of Duchesne. — (a) An account is given of Caesar's
expedition, (b) Mentioned are names of emperors who
visited the island ; allowing for bad spelling, these are Julius,
Claudius, Severus, Carausius, Constantinus, Maximus, Gra-
tianus ; in a confused manner are noted events connected
with Maximus. (c) Added is a piece of chronology hereafter
to be considered.
(2) (a) A separate notice of the wars of Julius, (b) A
statement that the Roman generals were thrice slain by
Britons.
Harleian. — The second paragraph of Chartres (2, a) makes
c. 19, while the mention of 2, b does not appear until c. 30;
in the intervening chapters, cc. 20-30, are given details
concerning Roman emperors connected with Britain. As
these are seven in number, and agree with 1, b, except as to
the final name, it seems clear that the writer had before
him the very text which we now have in Chartres ; the
alternative notice of Julius he omitted as unnecessary ;
the item concerning the seven emperors he made the basis
638 WILLIAM WELLS NEWELL.
of an elaborate expansion ; perceiving the historical error,
he chose to omit the name of Gratianus and substitute that
of an imaginary Maximianus ; l after the reference to the
three British revolts (c. 30), he himself, or a third hand,
added in accordance with De Excidlo Britanniae two chapters
relating to the British embassies sent to implore aid of Rome.
By the crucial test of this section we perceive a relation
consistent with all the other facts, namely, that the text of
Harleian is not independent, but a free recast of that which
we have in Chartres.
Chronology. — At this point may be introduced observa-
tions concerning various dates scattered through the com-
pilation, but for the most part only in the later text.
(1) The conversion of Britain, c. 22, Harleian. — This is
said to have been effected in the year 167, by a legate of
Pope Eucharistus, sent to Lucius, king of Britain.
The mission is mentioned in Liber Pontificalis, where the
pope is Eleuther ; the date is not given, but must have been
after 170. Beda notes the event) also making the name
Eleuther, but giving the year as 176. To my mind, the
agreement and difference is adequately explained by the
supposition that the Historia, as usual, uses Beda, but also
as usual, perverts names.
(2) The Saxon Conquest. — De Excidio declares the revolt
of Saxon mercenaries to have taken place after a fruitless
embassy sent to Aetius when for the third time consul (446).
lDe Excidio states that the expedition of Maximus, by depleting the
island of its militant youth, was responsible for British downfall. The
reviser observed that this mention was not noted in his text, and inferred that
the Maximus in question was not that same Maximus whose affairs were
remarked ; he therefore, for the sake of distinction, varied the name to
Maximianus, and utilized it to replace that of Gratianus, who was in no
way connected with Britain (the writer in Chartres may have confused the
emperor with the local British imperator or " tyrant" Gratianus ; Thurney-
sen, p. 92).
DOUBTS CONCERNING NENNIU8. 639
On the strength of this statement Beda assumed that the
Saxon advent must needs have taken place a little later, or
during the reign of Marcian and Valentmian, that is to say,
in 449 or subsequently ; this opinion was adopted into the
Saxon Chronicle, and with Asser became an absolute date
of the Conquest.
The only notice of the Conquest having any historical
validity, that of a contemporary Gaulish chronicler who
under the 19th year of Theodosius (441-2) notes the reduc-
tion of the island to Saxon supremacy, was in the Middle
Age unremarked.1
According to Orosius and Zosimus, the evacuation of
Britain by the Romans took place about 409 ; the differ-
ence between this period and the 449 of Beda seems to
account for the forty years of terror mentioned in the Life
of "Wortigern (c. 32) as preceding the Saxon arrival.
The Historia, however, contains other and irreconcilable
statements.
(1) Saxons in 500, c. o ofDuchesne, Chartres. — The obscure
passage seems to affirm that in the year 801 had expired
three centuries of Saxon occupation. As authority the
writer mentions an abbot of Ripon.2
1 " Britanniae usque ad hoc tempus variis cladibus eventibusque latae in
dicionem Saxonum rediguntur." — Mon. Germ. Hist., auct. antiquis., ix,
660.
2 The passage is a curiosity : " Et in tempore Guorthigirni regis Britannie
Saxones pervenerunt in Britanniam, id est, in anno incarnacionis Christ i,
sicut Libine abasiae Inripum civitate invenit vel repent, ab incarnacione
Domini anni D usque ad kl. Jan. in xii luna ut aiunt alii trecentis annis
a quo tenner unt Saxones Britanniam usque ad annum supradictum."
According to Duchesne (p. 182), the year 801 did offer the required
coincidence between the first of January and the twelfth day of the moon.
De Excidio had predicted, that Saxon power in Britain would endure
only three hundred years ; Saxon writers of the ninth century, perhaps,
argued that the prophecy had already been discredited, since the Saxon
landing had certainly taken place earlier than 500.
640 WILLIAM WELLS NEWELL.
This designation of time appears only in Chartres ; it is
valuable only as setting a limit for the text, which must
needs be later than the beginning of the ninth century, and
since the author (perhaps at second hand) cites an undated
predecessor, may be indefinitely later.
(b) Saxons in 3^7 from the Passion, c. 31, Chartres. —
They are said to have been received by Wortigern in this
year, being that of the reign of Gratianus (for the second
time) and Equitius.1
Harleian, etc. — The second name is corrupted to Equantius.
The Irish translator here has Equit.2
Under this year Victor of Aquitaine notes as consuls Gra-
tianus (for the third time) and Equitius.3
In a MS. of Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, ascribed
to the end of the tenth century, occurs a similar passage,
which, however, varies from that of the Historia, and seems
to me not borrowed from the latter.4
The origin of the date is not clear, but may have depended
merely on scribal error.5
(c) Saxons in 4,28, c. 66, Harleian. — They are said to
1"Eegnante Gratiano secundo cum Equitio Saxones a Guorthigirno
suscepti sunt anno cccxlvii post passionem Christi."
J.Zimmer (p. 20) assumes that the more correct form of the name indicated
that the Irishman used a Latin text older and better than Harleian ; however,
in the name of Eucharistus, above mentioned, the translator corrected to
Eleuther ; in the present case I suppose that he simply amended from
Prosper.
3 " Gratiano iii et Equitio."
i<(Quando Gratianus consul fuit secundo et Equitius quarta, tune his
consulibus Saxones a Wyrtgeorno suscepti sunt anno cccxlvii a passione
Christi." Observe the Anglo-Saxon name of the king, also the initial
(as given by Mommsen, p. 172).
5 The author, perhaps, misread Beda's date of ccccxlviiii by dropping a
c and i ; he then looked out the year in Victor, and obtained the consuls
(these held over in 348) ; he forgot that Beda reckoned from the Incarna-
tion. The Welsh scribe took Equitius as well as Gratianus to be an
emperor, hence the word regnante.
DOUBTS CONCERNING NENNIU8. 641
have arrived in the consulship of Felix and Taurus, which
year according to Victor of Aquitaine should be 428 (but
the Historia gives the year as 400).
Of this date no explanation has been offered. I suggest
that it is accounted for by the concordance between the
Saxon advent and the time of Germanus, according to
the Historia. Prosper makes Germanus to have visited
Britain in 429.
The writers in the Historic,, as will hereafter appear, seem
to have had no original Welsh sources of information, but
to have been dependent on the ordinary handbooks.
(3) Computations by eras. — In his chronology, having
arrived at the beginning of Christ's ministry in the 15th
year of Tiberius, Jerome takes a backward glance, and gives
a computation of the number of years elapsed from epoch-
making persons or events, the Creation, Deluge, Abraham,
Moses, Solomon, the Captivity. The year in question is
called the present year.1 This calculation was taken into
the Epitoma of Prosper. Beda made the sixth age of the
world begin with the birth of Christ, and extend to the
Judgment, establishing as the beginning of the several eras
the Creation, Deluge, Abraham, David, the Captivity, the
Incarnation. Differences of authorities in regard to initial
and terminal points were sufficient to allow mediaeval imi-
tators a margin of originality ; again, these were at liberty
to carry on the computation to recent time, which they
would naturally do by introducing new eras, which need not
of necessity be connected with the year of composition.2 In
this manner were made computi, of which three, by as many
hands, have found a place in the accepted text of the
Historia.
1 " Computantur in praesentem annum."
*Thus Jerome himself, at the end of his work, counts up to the 14th
year of Valens, which was not the date of authorship (he reserved con-
temporary history, as he says, for more extended treatment).
642 WILLIAM WELLS NEWELL.
(a) cc. 1-6, Chartres, Harleian. — First, years connected
with epochs are given, ending with the number from Adam
to the Captivity. Secondly, the Six Ages are noted after
Beda.
Harldan. — Between the first and second mentions, the
accepted text introduces additional matter; the number of
years is computed from Adam to Christ, then from both
the Incarnation and Passion to a medieval date (generally
assumed to be that of authorship).
In regard to mediaeval documents, it is a general rule of
interpretation, that the hypothesis of intercalation (if appli-
cable) has precedence over that of abridgment. The additions,
therefore, must be set down as interpolated; any doubt is
removed by observing that in concluding his count at an era
earlier than that of Christ the writer in Chartres followed
the example of Jerome.
The medieval date varies in different MSS. ; Harleian has
831 from the Incarnation, Vatican 976, being, as is said, the
fifth year of Eadmund, king of the English, the Nennius
glosses 912, being the 30th year of Anaraut, said to be
reigning in North Wales.1
In regard to the Vatican date, it is noteworthy that 976
is not the fifth year of Eadmund (which would be 944).
Again, the time of the edition can scarcely be intended, since
other passages bring that down to 102 1.2
As to Anaraut, this entry was originally a marginal gloss.
The writer evidently had access to a text (the Vatican, or a
similar one), which gave the year of a Saxon king; his
1 Harleian: "ab incarnacione autum ejus anni sunt dcccxxxi. Other
MSS. vary only the year : Vatican : dcccclxxvi et v annus Eadmundi regis
Anglorum. Nennius texts : dcccxii usque ad xxx annum Anaarauht regis
Moniae, qui regit modo regnum Wenedotiae regionis, id est Guernet (i. e.,
Guened) ; sunt igitur anni ab exordio mundi usque in annum praesentem
vicviiiii."
"Mommsen, p. 117, note.
DOUBTS CONCERNING NENNIUS. 643
novelty consisted in substituting a Welsh for a Saxon defini-
tion. The glossator was a forger ; in the use of tenses he
conforms to the style of the treatise, and in mentioning his
lower limit as the present year simply copies Jerome.
The same computation is made more complicated by a
much later imitator, whose work appears in L (MS. of the
13th century). This writer begins with an affirmation that
the treatise was composed in the year 858 (see below) ; he
then counts by years of the world to an epoch which seems
to be 919 (but probably the variation from 912 is simply
the expression of his own arithmetical ineptitude). As an
authority he quotes Henry of Huntingdon ; this does not
prevent him from repeating the notice in which the final era
is called " the present year."
Coming to Harleian, we find the years to the Passion
given as 796 (in other MSS. 790), to the Incarnation as 831.
The unusual difference of 35 years (instead of 32 or 30)
argues scribal error. No explanation is given as to the era ;
the universal custom of the chronologists who are followed
would require the mention of the consuls or year of an
emperor ; we must suppose that such addition has dropped
out.
The original form of the entry seems to be irrecoverable ;
perhaps there was in the first instance no intent to assign a
date of authorship ; if this was the case, the date could have
been nothing better than the conjecture of a scribe as to the
period of the treatise which he copied.
(b) c. 16} Harleian. — From the Saxon arrival to the fourth
year of a certain Mermin are reckoned 428 years. Notices
are given connected with Patrick, Bridget and Columba.
Counting by cycles of 19 years, 438 years are made from
the Incarnation to the advent of Patrick in Ireland, thence
431 to the year " in which we are." *
1 " Duo anni in ogdoade usque in hunc annum in quo aumus."
644 WILLIAM WELLS NEWELL.
Annales Cambriae records the death of a Mermin in 844.
The era of Mermin cannot be intended as the date of
authorship, since a later year is noted in the same chapter.1
The mention of Irish saints seems to indicate that the writer
used an Irish chronicle. His phrase may follow the analogy
of Prosper, and mean only the year now in question ; or
the time may be in the nature of a citation from his source.
(c) c. 66, Harleian. — A writer who used the Cursus Pas-
chalis of Victor of Aquitaine gives a reckoning from the
Christian era down to the Saxon advent, which, as already
noted, he makes to have been in a year which should have
been numbered as 428. He proceeds 69 years further to
the consulship of an alleged Decius, who cannot be identi-
fied. The passage abounds in scribal and arithmetical
errors.
In this case we clearly perceive that the author's final era
had nothing to do with his own date.
On the whole, the conclusion seems to be that none of the
many mentions of time warrant the assignment of a period
to the treatise, whose antiquity must be determined from
other indications.
V. Life of Wortigern, cc. 31-4-9, Chartres, Harleian. —
After the series of prefixed chapters, we come to an account
of the Saxon invasion, which forms the core and oldest part of
the compilation.
After the British revolts, above noted, ensued a period
of anxiety, lasting forty years. Guorthigirnus was king of
Britain, and was disturbed by fear of the Romans, the Picts,
and Ambrosius.2
1 There seems to be no sign that the reckoning by cycles is later than the
rest of the chapter.
2At this time Ambrosius, the prophetic boy of the Historia, is not yet
born. However, the passage belongs to the awkward sutures of the compi-
lation ; we may presume that an editor who attached the life to the prefixed
DOUBTS CONCERNING NENNIU8. 645
In three ships arrive exiled Germans, commanded by
Hors and Hengist ; these the king welcomes, and assigns to
them as a residence the isle of Thanet. At this time begins
the ministry of Germanus, whose first miracle is recorded.
The Saxons increase in number, and become burdensome
to the Britons, who murmur at the charges imposed by their
maintenance. Hengist obtains leave to bring over his family ;
a messenger is sent across the ocean.1 Additional Saxons
arrive in sixteen ships, carrying the daughter of Hengist,
who obtains leave to erect a castle ; when this is completed
he invited the king to a feast ; at the banquet, Wortigern is
served with the cup by the maid, of whom he becomes
enamored, and whom he obtains in marriage ; as her price,
Kent is conceded, without the knowledge of its king.2
At the suggestion of Hengist, Wortigern invites Octha and
Ebissa, son and nephew of Hengist, promising them territory
near the Roman Wall. These arrive in forty ships, and
their force continually augments ; in the end the new-comers
make their way to Kent.
The story now passes over half a generation. Wortigern
conceives a passion for his daughter by his Saxon wife, and
marries her. Germanus, accompanied by the British clergy,
seeks the king. It is arranged between the guilty pair that
the paternity shall be laid on the saint ; this intent is miracu-
lously defeated ; the child acknowledges the king as his
carnal father, while Germanus, by cutting the boy's hair,
chapters (at first mere glosses) committed a prolepsis ; perhaps he intended
to have it understood that predictions of the future adversary alarmed the
king.
1 " Trans Tythicam vallem." With Claudian this was only a poetic name
for the ocean. De Excidio, from which the phrase is borrowed, and the
Historic,, scarcely comprehend the words ; Tythica Vallis (the Vale of
Tethys) was probably thought to be the proper name of a northern sea.
2 Guoyrancgonus.
646 WILLIAM WELLS NEWELL.
becomes his spiritual parent.1 Wortigern is anathematized,
and retires from the assembly.
In order to protect himself against the Saxons, his magi
advise the king to erect a stronghold ; search is made for
a proper locality, and selection made of Montes Hereri
(Snowdon) ; the citadel is begun, but never completed ;
Wortigern is compelled to surrender the fort, together with
the rule of West Britain, to the youth Ambrosius ; he him-
self resorts to North Wales, and in a place called Gunnessi
builds Cair Guorthigirn.
Guorthemir, son of Guorthigirnus, encounters the intruders,
defeats them in four battles, and expels them from Britain.
He falls sick, and directs that his grave be made on a hill
above the port whence the enemies have sailed ; if this pre-
caution is taken, they will never be able to master that part
of Britain. His injunction is neglected, and with the aid
of Wortigern the invaders return. Arrangement is made for
a feast, at which terms of peace are to be arranged ; the
Saxons treacherously bring weapons, and massacre British
lords. The king is made prisoner, and obliged to ransom
himself by surrender of lands belonging to East and South
Saxons.
The king flies before Germanus to his own land of Guor-
thigirniaun, thence to Arx Guorthigirni in South Wales on the
Teivy. The saint and his monks follow, and during three
days fast and pray against the king ; on the fourth night,
fire from heaven descends and consumes the castle ; all
within perish. So much, says the writer, he had read hi a
life of Germanus.2
1 A common European custom. So among the Lombards, adoption is
said to have been accompanied by cutting the hair. Charles Martel sent
Pipin to Luitbrand that the latter, after the custom of Christian believers,
might first cut the lad's hair, and so become his spiritual parent. See note
of W. Gunn, Nenniiis, p. 162.
2 " In libro bead German! repperi." — C. 47.
DOUBTS CONCERNING NENNITJ8. 647
It is added that other tales are related, namely, that the
king's body burst, or that the earth opened and swallowed
him.
A genealogical record is furnished, according to which the
sons of the king are named as Categirn, Pascent, and Faustus,
the fruit of the incestuous alliance, born of the king's
daughter Fausta, and afterwards builder of a monastery.1
The pedigree is carried down through Pascent to the twelfth
generation, ending in a Fernmail.
In commenting on this narrative, notice may first be taken
of the part played by the boy Ambrosius ; in more detail,
the account runs as follows.
Snowdon having been chosen as the site of a fortress,
workmen and materials are gathered, but removed by night ;
this happens three times. The king's magi affirm that the
edifice will never stand, unless moistened with the blood of
a fatherless boy. Messengers are sent to discover such a
victim, and at Campus Elleti in Gleguissing are found
children at play, one of whom is reproached by his mates
as being a boy without a father. The mother is sought, and
owns that she has conceived without human intercourse.
The boy is led to the king, but begs to be confronted with
the magi, whom he asks to tell what is below the pavement
of the court in which they are standing. This they are
unable to expound, and an inquiry is made ; beneath the
surface is found a pool ; when this is drained, are seen two
vessels united in such manner as to include a folded sheet,
which is unwrapped, and proves to contain two dragons, one
red and the other white. These at once do battle with each
other, and at first the red dragon has the advantage, but at
last is mastered and driven from the sheet. The magi are
According to Zimmer, p. 15, the reference is to the celebrated Faustus
of the 5th century, a bishop of Eegium in Provence.
648 WILLIAM WELLS NEWELL.
unable to expound the spectacle, which the boy explains as
symbolic of British and Saxon warfare ; Saxons, typified by
the white dragon, shall for a season prevail, but finally be
driven from the island.
The boy then addresses the king : " Depart from this
tower, which thou canst not build, and traverse many
provinces in quest of a safe citadel, while I will remain
here." And the king said to the boy : " By what name art
thou called?" And he answered : "I am named Ambrosius
(that is to say, he seems to have been Ambrosius Guletic)."
And the king said : " Of what race art thou ? " And he
replied : " My father is one of the consuls of the Roman
people." l So he gave him the abode, with all the kingdoms
of the west part of Britain, and he with his magi went to
the north, to the region which is called Gunnessi, and there
built a city named after himself Cair Guorthigirn." 2
Evidently, the legend belongs to the category of those
connected with " foundation sacrifice." New edifices, espe-
cially those erected above water, were thought to be in
danger from spirits, who object to interference with the
primitive freedom of their territory, and who, like all evil-
disposed beings, are likely to be nocturnal in their assaults.
In such cases protection can be obtained only by a human
offering ; a life must be surrendered, and the body of the
victim must be scattered through the edifice, or the blood
mingled with the mortar. In primitive times, it seems to
have been regarded as necessary that the offering should be
of noble birth, or at least belonging to the gens ; with the
progress of enlightenment, such destruction seemed an unne-
1 " Ille respondit : 'Ambrosius vocor.' Id est, Embreis Guletic ipse
videbatur. Et rex dixit : ' De qua progenie ortus es ? ' At ille : ' Unus
est pater meus de consulibus Romanicae gentis.' "
2 The name of Cair Guorthigirn, it will be noticed, is doubled, the
locality being assigned both to North and South Wales. Perhaps the name,
like Arthur's Seat, was a legendary one, which might belong to several
districts.
DOUBTS CONCERNING NENNIUS. 649
cessary waste ; a substitute might be satisfactory ; instead a
Jilius oMeujus, a filius nulliua might answer. Such is evi-
dently the basis of the narrative, the requirement that the
child should have no earthly father being merely a miscon-
struction. Legends of this sort are rather European than
the property of any particular people. The representation
that the intended victim saves himself by the exercise of
prophetic power is, so far as I know, peculiar to this story,
and may probably have been the contribution of the author.
The idea, that an unimportant but worthy person may be
made to take the place of a wicked sovereign is part of the
miracle of Germanus recited in the Historia, whence may be
borrowed the trait that the evil ruler is dismissed by the
mandate of a supernatural authority which he cannot resist.
However, the principal increment of the familiar motive is
found in the name of Ambrosius.
In De Excidio Bi'itanniae, we are informed that after
Britain had been laid waste by Saxons, and its inhabitants
driven to the mountains, Britons rallied under the leader-
ship of the last surviving Roman, Ambrosius Aurelianus ; *
a series of struggles ended in the final defeat of the invaders
at the siege of Mount Badonicus, forty-two years before the
date of writing, from which time the country had enjoyed
immunity from foreign foes. We ask, what is the relation
of this Ambrosius to the personage of the Historia? Were
the two identical or different? This question presented itself
also to mediaeval readers ; it is a strange proof of the confu-
sion in the treatise, that the Historia itself contains opposite
opinions on this head. A passage just cited, and incorpor-
ated in the account, declares that probably they were the
same ; 2 a second and a third, noticed below, appear to dis-
^urelianus, like Augustus, doubtless as a title of honor.
2 The Ambrosius in question, says the writer, was seemingly Embreis
Guletic. The Welsh word, in later spelling Gwledig, means ruler,
and doubtless is intended as a translation of the Aurelianus of De Excidio.
650 WILLIAM WELLS NEWELL.
tinguish ; l a fourth, already noted, and introduced at the
outset of the Life, is inconsistent with either personality.
No doubt all these four mentions were from as many
different hands, being in the nature of glosses or additions ;
for the intent of the author of the biography, we must look
only to his narrative.
The date and the royal authority of Ambrosius agree
sufficiently with the statements of De Excidlo. But the
decisive feature is the common Roman descent ; De Excidlo
makes Ambrosius born of Roman parents wearing the purple,
who had perished in recent disturbances ; the Historia simi-
larly describes him as the offspring of Roman consuls. It
is plain, therefore, that the account is merely an expansion
of an idea contained in the older work ; the author meant to
explain the enfances of the deliverer ; as he was perfectly
familiar with the language of De Excidio, his story is not
an ancient Welsh tradition, but a deliberate literary invention.
Next is to be noted the relation of Wortigern with Germa-
nus. Historically, there could have been no connection;
the saint, as has been mentioned, is said to have been in
Britain in 429 ; Beda places the conquest after 449 ; the
writers in the Historia knew nothing more from independent
sources ; but it was open to a legend-maker, like the writer
of the life, who did not know or did not care for dates, to
associate the two.
The first miracle of the saint is recounted in a rhetorical
style. Germanus, in the course of his journey through
Britain, applies for hospitality at the door of a tyrant named
Benli, but is turned rudely away ; evening comes on, and
the wanderers have no shelter. A servant of the king called
Catel receives them into his cottage ; having no more than
one cow with her calf, he kills the calf and serves it to the
1 Pp. 658 and 669, note.
DOUBTS CONCERNING NENNIU8. 651
saint. Germanus commands that no bones be broken ; on
the morrow the calf is found alive at the side of its mother.
At morn, Germanus and his companions once more resort to
the gate of the palace. It is the custom of the tyrant to put
to death any servant who fails to present himself by sunrise ;
a man comes panting and sweating, running in his haste to
arrive in time ; the certainty of death in case of delay does
not prevent him from pausing to make obeisance ; Germanus
asks if he believes in the Trinity ; he avows his faith, and
receives baptism and the kiss of peace ; he then enters
and perishes. Germanus remains all day at the gate, and
when his entertainer presents himself at eve, advises that he
and his family remain in doors, and do not look to see what
will pass in the castle ; fire from heaven descends and con-
sumes the fortress, which has never been rebuilt. On the
morn Catel with his sons believes, and is rewarded by
Germanus : "And he blessed him, and added, and said : 'A
king shall never be wanting from thy seed, and from this
day thou shalt be king.' So it came to pass, for up to the
present time Powis is ruled by kings of the race." l
Here also there can be no doubt as to the legendary basis.
The tale belongs to a type diffused through Europe and Asia
in innumerable variants, going back to a time older than
history. Gods or holy personages walk the earth, are
rejected by the rich and mighty, and received by the obscure
1 The text adds : " Ipse est Catel Durnluc." The question arises, whether
the reference is to that Catel whom Germanus made king, or to a successor
of the author's own time, namely, a Catel who justified the prediction that
a sovereign of that line should never be wanting to Powis. On this head
Welsh mediaeval writers differed : the genealogies given in Harleian (see
p. 671, below), and in Jesus Coll., MS. 20, take the former alternative, while
Brut y Tywysogion adopts the latter, and considers " Teyrnllwg " to be only
a name for Powis. To me it seems safe to assume that none of these writers
had any information other than their inferences from the words of the.
-Historic. See Zimmer, p. 71 ff.
15
652 WILLIAM WELLS NEWELL.
and needy, who serve their humble fare, which is miracu-
lously multiplied ; the host and his desendants are rewarded
by honor and prosperity. The particular species of the
legend, in which the entertainer sacrifices his only domestic
animal, of which the bones are left unbroken, laid on the
hide, and subsequently reanimated, is itself ancient.1
The miracle is also related by Heiric of Auxerre (late
ninth century) in his Life of Germanus, having been obtained
by him from the recitation of an aged man named Marcus,
by descent a Briton, but educated in Ireland, who had
resigned his see in order to lead the life of a hermit. In
winter, the saint, when in Britain, seeks shelter in the house
of a certain king, but meets refusal. The king's swineherd
makes up for the churlishness of his master by taking
Germanus to his cottage, and by slaying his only bullock,
which the saint declines to partake, directing that the bones
be preserved and laid on the hide in the stable ; on the
morrow, the bullock is found entire and well. The indig-
nant saint goes to the gate of the palace, and awaits the exit
of the ruler, whom he bids to depart, and resign the sceptre
to a more worthy hand. Overcome by the authority of
Germanus, the king obeys; the saint summons the swine-
herd, and declares him king ; from that time, sovereigns born
of the herd have ruled the British nation. Marcus assured
Heiric that the story was contained in Catholic letters.
Comparing Heiric's account with that of the Historia, the
latter is observed to exhibit the marks which usually indicate
a later version as compared with an earlier ; we find increased
decoration, together with vagueness and incoherence. Heiric's
tale in style and substance accords with traditional relations
of many countries, while the Historia deals in theatrical addi-
tions proper to literary reworking, such as the incident of the
1 See the Greek legend of Hyrieus.
DOUBTS CONCERNING NENNIUS. 653
servant who prefers death to the neglect of homage which he
is in no way called on to perform. The story of Heiric pre-
serves an old trait, in the direction that bones be laid on the
hide, an essential precaution neglected in the history. It is
plain that Heiric cannot have obtained his narrative from
the Historia, while it is by no means certain that the latter
does not recast Heiric.
It is, however, true that the variations of the Historia
belong to other traditional histories of the type. Thus in
the Irish Acattamh na Senorach are told how Patrick seeks
hospitality from the churlish Becan, king of Bregia and
Meath. When admittance is refused, the saint is entertained
by Fulartach, brother of the king. During the night the
royal mansion disappears with Becan and all his people.
On the morrow, Patrick promises Fulartach that from the
hour of noon he shall be sovereign ; from that day the race
of Fulartach has ruled the country.1 The writer in the
Historia may have followed an independent version of the
tale given by Heiric, or may have reconstructed the account
of the latter by the aid of similar current legends, and
supplied proper names from his own imagination ; the usual
experience of similar decorations tends in favor of the last
hypothesis.
One curious circumstance shows equally the popularity of
Heiric' s work, and the procedure of Welsh literati ; that
editor of the Historia who in the eleventh century produced
the Vatican text thought proper to ascribe the authorship of
the compilation to that same Marcus whom Heiric mentions
as his informant.2
Next is to be inquired, how far the geography and history
of the Historia are founded on Welsh historical tradition,
how far they represent no more than the fancy of the
authors.
1 Stokes and Windisch, Irische texte, iv, 1, 15.
3 Mommsen, p. 120, seems to take the editorship of Marcus seriously.
654 WILLIAM WELLS NEWELL.
As regards geography, the Saxons are conceived as mi-
grating from an archipelago of northern isles, of which the
principal, whence proceed Hengist and his counsellors, is
named Oghgul. When the son and nephew of Hengist, in
obedience to the summons of the latter, set out for Britain ;
in the first place they seize and devastate the Orkneys ; they
circumnavigate Caithness, descend the coast of Scotland, and
settle in the country about the Roman wall ; by degrees they
make their way to Kent.1 The writer, evidently, supposes
Saxons to be dwellers in the far north, whence a direct path
would take them to the Orkneys, as the Picts have already
been described as proceeding, or as Norse vikings would sail.
Any surprise at such understanding is removed, when we
perceive that the Irish translator, a much more intelligent
writer, took it as a matter of course that Saxons came from
Scandinavia, and descended on Britain from the north.2
In such representation, the author of the Historia did not
follow any recondite sources, but obtained his ideas from the
familiar and still extant treatises which served as handbooks
of mediaeval readers. Oghgul is only a corruption of Angulus
of Beda, the land of the Angles ; 3 Beda tells us that this
territory was in his day still deserted, emigration en masse
having left it abandoned; like mention appears in the
Historia* Beda knew the difference between Jutes, Angles,
1 "At ipsi, cum navigarent circa Pictos, vastaverunt Orcades insulas, et
venerunt et occupaverunt regiones plurimas ultra mare Frenessicum. ..."
2 From Lochland, i. e. , Scandinavia.
3 Beda, i, 15 : " De ilia patria quae Angulus dicitur hodie manere deserta
inter provincias Jutarum et Saxonum perhibetur." Historia: "EtHenc-
gistus, inito consilio cum suis senioribus, qui venerunt secum de insula
Oghgul."— C. 37.
4 Et Hencgistus semper ciulas ad se paulatim invitavit, ita ut insulas ad
quas venerant absque habitatore relinquerent, et dum gens illius crevisset
et in virtute et in multitudine, venerunt ad supra dictam civitatem Can-
torum. c. 38. Compare mention of Pictish ravages from the Orkneys as
an intermediate station, p. 633, above.
DOUBTS CONCERNING NENNIUS. 655
and Saxons, and seems to refer Hengist to the former tribe ;
to the Welsh writer such distinctions were meaningless ;
Hengist, as well as all the invaders, were Saxons.
Next, as to the history. The foundation is the statement
of De Extidio Britanniae, which makes three ships arrive
containing Saxon exiles, who are taken into service by the
ruler of Britain, whom the work knows only as a nameless
tyrant ; the new-comers summon reinforcements, and their
support grows burdensome to Britons, who refuse rations ;
the mercenaries revolt, and their outbreak, beginning in east
Britain, presently devastates the entire island; the ruin
continues, until, as already noted, the Britons rise under
Ambrosius Aurelianus.
On the story of De Extidio Beda bases his mention, and
follows closely the language of his source ; he is able, how-
ever, to add several particulars. He knows that the Saxon
leaders were the brothers Hengist and Horsa, and that the
monument of the latter is still visible in the eastern part of
Kent; with Hengist was invited his son Oisc, ancestor
of Kentish kings ; the British sovereign he names as Wur-
tigernus.1 In the case of the brothers he indicates his
authority as Kentish tradition. It seems to me improbable
that Kentish oral tradition could have known any story
answering to the rhetorical account of De Exddio; rather,
Beda has separated scions belonging to quite different stems,
which he has grafted on the literary stem of his pre-
decessor ; by this process of introcision may have been
introduced the name of Wortigern.2
1 "Cum suo rege Uurtigerno," I, 14. Geoffrey of Monmouth has also
Vortigernus. The use, in such names, of initials W or Gu is merely
a matter of scribal usage ; the Saxon scribes write the W, the Welsh Gu ;
I have used the form Wortigern as more correctly expressing the name to
modern eyes.
a The proper name Guorthigirniaun (-ion, suffix forming a local appel-
lation from a personal name) seems to indicate that the designation was
656 WILLIAM WELLS NEWELL.
From Beda the story was taken by the Anglo-Saxon
Chronicle which has proceeded with the work of expansion
and incorporation. The Chronicle knows the dates and
localities of four battles fought between Hengist and his son
Aesc on one side, and Britons on the other ; these are set
down as taking place in 455, 457, 465, and 473; in the
second of the encounters Horsa is slain, and from that time
Aesc joined to his father as king ; in 488, by the death of
Hengist, Aesc is left as sole ruler in Kent, and reigns 24
years.
De Excidio knows nothing of any Saxon settlement, but
considers the new-comers only as homeless mercenaries, whose
revolt begins in the eastern part of Britain. This scanty
mention Beda undertook to interpret by the aid of Kentish
tradition, and places the grave of Horsa in Kent; the
Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, on this basis, gave Kentish occupa-
tion the priority, placing East Anglia as the second Saxon
kingdom ; there is no reason to suppose that such definition
rested on any thing more secure than historical speculation
gradually taking shape.
It is first in the Historia that we find Thanet noted as the
place of landing, and the earliest Saxon home ; this place,
I suspect, was chosen merely because Thanet is named by
Constantius as the landing-place of Germanus, who in the
Historia is associated with the story.
genuinely British. Guorthigirniaun is identified with a commote of Kad-
nor (Zimmer, p. 67) ; such appellation must have been derived from some
petty chief, who can not have been identical with the (imaginary) over-
king credited with admitting Saxons ; the coincidence can only prove the
familiarity of the name.
De Excidio knows the receiver of the foreigners only as an unamed
"tyrannus," qualified with the epithets "crudelis, infaustus, superbus;"
Beda gives us a proper name (compounded of WOT- or guor-, emphatic
particle, and tigerno-, king). I cannot think the correspondence of sound
and sense likely to have been accidental, and rather suppose that such
resemblance caused the importation of the name of Wortigernus into the
tale.
DOUBTS CONCERNING NENNIU8. 657
The chapter relating to Worthemir exhibits flaming patriot-
ism. The son of Wortigern takes command of Britons,
thrice defeats the intruders, and blockades them in Thanet.
To no purpose the Saxons obtain reinforcements from Ger-
many ; Worthemir fights against them four battles, of which
three are named ; these take place, the first, on the river
Derguentid (Derwent?) ; second, on a ford called in
Saxon speech Episford and in the British tongue Ritherga-
bail, in which fall both Hors and Categirn, son of Wortigern ;
the third, on a plain named Lapis Tituli, on the shore of the
Gallic sea, in which the enemies are driven to their ships,
which they effeminately enter. The mention of the death
of Horsa identifies these battles with the four combats of the
Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. The name of Guorthemir is formed
in imitation of Guorthigirnus, while that of Categirn shows
the same influence. Categirn is introduced as a counterpart
to Aesc, in order that a British prince may fall in the same
encounter which removes a Saxon. The story has the
appearance of being a deliberate invention, constructed to
balance the statements of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. In
later sections will appear other instances of the use and
alteration of Saxon documents. It seems, therefore, that
the writer of this section of the Historia had no independent
national sources, but constructed his story from hints of
Anglo-Saxon documents.1
1 In c. 31, we have a pedigree of Hengist, first up to Woden, thence as
follows : Frealaf, Fredulf, Finn, Fodepald, Geta, qui fuit, ut aiunt, filius
dei. The same pedigree (borrowed from the Historia), appears in Henry
of Huntingdon, who writes Flocwald. Florence of Worcester and others
have corresponding statements, taken from Asser, who in giving the ances-
tors of Alfred makes the line proceed : Woden, Frithowald, Frealaf,
Frithiwulf, Fin, Godwulf (the last two names by textual error united in
one), Geata, "quern Getam jamdudum pagani pro deo venerabantur."
The list in the Historia is only a perversion of Asser's (Fodepald is a mere
scribal error for Godulf ). It seems likely, therefore, that Asser must be
658 WILLIAM WELLS NEWELL.
The section finds its proper conclusion in the assertion
of, the writer, that he derived his material from a life of
Saint Germanus. The foregoing remarks seem to indicate
that this origin is highly improbable. The affirmation can
be regarded only as one of those light-hearted allegations
respecting authorities, which were intended to confer dignity
on works of fiction, by mediaeval authors of all nationalities
and all degrees of ability considered as innocent frauds which
might without self-reproach be palmed on a credulous reader.
While the Life probably once ended at this point, additions
have been made, offering diverging accounts of the death of
Wortigern.
That the genealogical passage which now concludes the
section also proceeded from the hand of a glossator is made
probable by a curious remark concerning Ambrosius. Pas-
cent, says the writer, succeeded his father in Builth and
Guorthigirniaun, having received a gift of such territory
from that Ambrosius who was over-king of Britain.1 This
language is scarce applicable to the prophetic Ambrosius,
mentioned as lord of provinces in West Britain ; the author
appears to consider the Guledig as a separate personage from
the youth who discomfited Wortigern ; herein, as already
observed, he differs from a previous glossator, whose observa-
tion has been incorporated into the text. That the chapter
is an interpolation is further shown by its initial words,
which have a character proper to such increments.2
The twelfth in succession, and last personage of the list is
a Fernmail, king of the two provinces, who, as we are told,
enumerated among the sources of the Life of Wortigern ; this is quite in
accordance with other indications, which tend to show that the oldest por-
tion of the Histaria does not antedate the tenth century.
1 " Largiente Ambrosio illi qui fuit rex inter omnes reges Britannicae
gentis."
* " Haec est genealogia illius, quae ad initium retro recurrit."
DOUBTS CONCERNING NENNIUS. 659
is now reigning. It is safe to assume, I think, that in this
use of the present tense by the interpolator we have only
another example of the antiquarian present, and that the
day of Fernmail was long anterior to the time of the writer.1
With this section of the Historia the Arthuriana connect,
both in matter and in the designation of time. In the re-
vised text, however, the biography of Wortigern is imme-
diately followed by chapters which may be called Patri-
ciana; this matter, as unmentioned in the title of Chartres,
was probably absent from the older text.
VI. Patrieiana. cc. 50-55. — The narration, as com-
mentators have observed, contains extracts borrowed from
the Latin Life of the saint contained in the Book of Armagh.2
This contains two notices of the saint, respectively from
Muirchu Maccu-Machtheni and Tirechan ; the book is thought
to have been written (but from older documents) in the
early ninth century. However, it has not been observed
that the Historia does not in all respects follow Armagh,
but, on the contrary, in some measure agrees with a later
form of the Patrician legend contained in the Tripartite Life
of Patrick, belonging to the eleventh century.3
1 "Fernmail ipse est, qui regit (other MS., regnat) mbdo." Vatican has
"qui regnavit," but this change has the appearance of being an alteration
of the editor. Zimmer, who calls this the only certain date contained in
the Historia (p. 67), endeavors to fix the period of Fernmail by the aid of
the old Welsh genealogies ; but it has above been observed that these, in so
far as they correspond, seem only to echo the compilation.
* The comparison of Patrick with Moses, c. 55, is verbally taken from
Tirechan as cited in Armagh ; W. Stokes, Tripartite Life of St. Patrick,
London, 1887, p. 332 ; so also the three boons granted by God to Patrick,
p. 331.
8 In the account of Muirchu, a&given in Armagh, the saint, just before his
death, while on his way to Armagh, is turned back by an angel, and as
compensation, receives four boons (p. 296). Cruachan Eile is the height on
which Patrick (in imitation of Christ) fasts for forty days (p. 322) ; but
neither Muircu nor Tirechan connects this mountain with the promises. On
660 WILLIAM WELLS NEWELL.
VII. Arthuriana. c. 56. — A translation of the Harleiau
text runs as follows : " At this time, the Saxons increased in
number, and multiplied in Britain. After the death of Hen-
gist, Octha, his son, migrated from North Britain to the
kingdom of the Kentish, and from him are descended Ken-
tish kings. Then in those days Arthur fought against them
with the kings of the Britons, but he himself was commander
in the wars. The first battle was at the mouth of the river
called Glein, the second, third, and fourth, and fifth on
another river named Dubglas, in the region of Linnuis.
The sixth on a river named Bassas. The seventh battle
was in the wood of Celidon, that is to say, Cat Coit Celidon.
The eighth at the castle of Guinnion, in which Arthur bore
on his shoulders the image of St. Mary perpetual Virgin,
and pagans were routed on that day, and a great slaughter
made of them, by the virtue of Our Lord Jesus Christ, and
Saint Mary Virgin, his mother. The ninth battle he fought
at Urbs Legionis. The tenth on the shore of a river named
Tribruit. The eleventh on the mount called Agned. The
twelfth battle was on the mount of Badon, in which nine
hundred and sixty men fell in a single day by the onset of
Arthur ; and no other overthrew them except himself, and
he came off conqueror in all battles. And they, when they
were defeated in every battle, sought aid from Germany,
and increased incessantly, and brought kings from Germany,
the other hand, the Tripartite Life, with which the Historia agrees, does repre-
sent the boons as conceded on the mount. According to Muirchu (p. 295),
while Patrick is on Cruachan Aigle, the landscape is darkened by the wings
of saints, who are made to arise in the form of birds, in order that Patrick
may have a vision of what on the Judgment Day will be the fruit of his
labors. In the Tripartite Life ( p. 115), the legend receives decoration ; the
darkness is said to arise from the black wings of demons, followed by the
white wings of the redeemed. The Historia gives us still a further step in
advance ; wings belong to birds of many colors, who are not themselves
the saints, but only symbolic of the latter. Verbal correspondences point
to the mention in Armagh as the ultimate source.
DOUBTS CONCERNING NENNIU8. 661
down to the time when ruled Ida, son of Eobba, who was
the first king in Bernicia." l
As already observed, the absence of titular mention indi-
cates that the Arthuriana were not included in the older text
(that of Chartres).
The account makes Octa migrate from North Britain to
Kent; this mention implies a knowledge on the part of
readers of the manner in which he came to North Britain,
and so presupposes the earlier chapters which recount the
establishment of the son of Hengist in the country about the
Roman Wall ; it follows that the Arthurian chapter was
composed, not as a separate document, but as a sequel to the
Life of Wortigern (as I call the story of the Conquest).
The Arthuriana make Octa arrive in Kent only after the
death of Hengist, thus contravening the statement of Beda,
that the son was invited at the same time as his father, and
the mentions of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, which date
battles fought by Aesc as coadjutor of Hengist. The
Biography, however, does not seem to support the story of
the Arthuriana; on the contrary, Octa and his people are
said ultimately to have arrived in Kent and joined Hengist.2
It appears, therefore, that the author of the Arthuriana, as
is often the case with continuators who through independent
fancy expand the hints of a predecessor, has fallen into a
1 " In illo tern pore Saxones invalescebant in multitudine et crescebant in
Britannia. Mortuo autem Hengisto, Octha filius ejus transivit de sinis-
trali parte Britannise ad regnum Cantorum, et de ipso orti sunt reges Can-
torum. Tune Arthur pugnabat contra illos in illis diebus cum regibus
Brittonum, sed ipse dux erat bellorum."
In place of the last sentence, Vatican has : " Tune belliger Arthur cum
militibus Bryttanise atque regibus contra illos pugnabat, et licet multi ipso
nobiliores essent, ipse tamen duodecies dux belli fuit victorque bellorum."
The words "in illo tempore " relate to the time of Wortigern, and pass
over that of Patrick.
2 See above, p. 654, note 4.
662 WILLIAM WELLS NEWELL.
contradiction with the document for which he intends to
compose a sequel.
Both the Life and the Arthuriana describe Octa as son of
Hengist; on the contrary, in Beda and the Anglo-Saxon
Chronicle, Octa is the grandson. Beda says that the son of
Hengist was named Oeric surnamed Oisc, from whom Kentish
kings derive their title of Oiscingas. The Arthuriana, on
the other hand, mention Octa as Kentish ancestor (a notice
obviously erroneous), while in the Genealogies Ossa is noted
as son of Octa.
In transposing the son and grandson of Hengist, the
Historia is not solitary. A Kentish pedigree contained in
Anglo-Saxon genealogies, printed by Sweet, proceeds Oese,
Ocga, Hengest. Continuing the ascent, we find the father
and grandfather again inverted, as compared with Beda,
with whom, however, the Historia agrees.1 This second
deviation goes to show that the transpositions depended on
nothing more important than scribal error, and that Beda
was the sole ultimate source. The writer in the Historia
followed an Anglo-Saxon list similar to that of Sweet, and in
so doing was led into a mistake ; his very foundation was,
therefore, aerial.
As to the descent of Arthur, the variation of the Vatican
MS., in which it is set forth that the hero was of less than
royal rank, is doubtless a gloss. However, there is nothing
to prevent us from drawing the same conclusion ; the lan-
guage of the accepted text may be construed as indicating
that the author conceived of his hero as a Guledig or im-
perator, rather than as a hereditary British over-king ; for
such idea he had the suggestion of De Excidio relative to
Ambrosius, on whom his British champion was perhaps
partly dfoalque.
1 In Beda the line proceeds : " Uictglis, Uitta, Uicta." Sweet : " Uitta,
Uihtgils, Uegdaeg. The Oldest English Texts, London, 1885, p. 171.
DOUBTS CONCERNING NENNIUS. 663
The twelve battles have been made the theme of learned
controversy. For local identification, Welsh literature offers
no aid. Attempts have been made to expound the appel-
lations on the basis of their assonance with modern place-
names ; difficulty arises from the consideration that desig-
nations of like sound occur by twos and threes in different
parts of Britain ; variations of orthography in MSS. compli-
cate the matter. Investigators have generally taken for
granted that the combats of necessity belonged to some one
region, and had, if one could only discover it, a historical
sequence. On the other hand, mediaeval readers (as repre-
sented by Geoffrey) supposed that the battles were to be
assigned to all parts of Britain ; an inference (like ourselves,
they were limited to the letter) apparently reasonable, con-
sidering that the antagonist is represented as a king of Kent
who. has migrated from North Britain.1
With all respect to the ability shown in these inquiries, it
1 Higden, Polychronicon, (fourteenth century) , v. 329, took the Duglas
to be in Lincolnshire, the forest of Celidon near Lincoln, Mons Badonis
Bath. W. Camden, Britannia (1600), made Douglas in Lincolnshire,
Agned Cadbury in Somerset. T. Carte, A General History of England,
1747, placed the Glein in Northumberland, Gwynion Durham, Cserleon
Chester. J. Whittaker, History of Manchester, 1775, ii, 35, devised a
scheme in general following Carte ; this was accepted by S. Turner, His-
tory of the Anglo-Saxons, 1807. E. Guest, Early English Settlements in South
Britain, 1850, n, 101, took the wood of Celidon to be near the Thames,
Mount Badon Cadbury in Dorset. C. H. Pearson, History of England
during the Early and Middle Ages, 1867, p. 83, thought Urbs Legionum to
be Exeter, Agned Cadbury, Tribruit some place on the Trent, Mount
Badon Bath. W. F. Skene, Four Ancient Books of Wales, 1866, I, 58, took
the Duglas to be the river emptying into Loch Lomond, Urbs Legionis
Dumbarton, Mount Badon Bouden Hill near Linlithgow, Agned Edin-
burgh. A. Anscombe, Local names in the ' Arthuriana ' in the ' Historia
Britonum,' Zeit. f. Celtische Philologie, v, 1904, 1, considers Glein to be the
Lune (river of Lancaster), Bassas Bassenthwaite Water, Silva Celidonis
Ciltina, Guinnion Vinovia,Urbs Legionis Chester-on-the-Dee. Anscombe' s
ingenious and erudite observations involve correction of the proper names,
chiefly after the Vatican text.
664 WILLIAM WELLS NEWELL.
appears to me that a different hypothesis is more in accord-
ance with the character of the document. In De Excidio,
we are told of a series of encounters between the invaders
and the native inhabitants who rally under Ambrosius Aure-
lianus ; these end in a decisive encounter, called the siege of
Mons Badonicus, in which is effected a great slaughter of
the foe, and by which peace is restored to the island. In
the Arthuriana, a similar massacre and pacification are re-
ferred to a battle at Mons Badonis, it seems obvious that
reference is made to the same combat ; perversion of proper
names is usual in the Historia. The writers of the Historia
were well acquainted with De Excidio, and had its text
before them ; it follows that the author of the Arthuriana
must deliberately have borrowed the victory, and transferred
it to the hero of his own tale. If he so proceeded in the
case of the principal battle, he may well have followed a. like
course in regard to the other encounters ; these may be a list
of struggles fought in various parts of Britain, and more or
less widely famed in bardic lore of his time, but ascribed to
quite other chief actors, until this writer undertook to unite
them as the property of Arthur.
Finally, it is to be noted that the passage seems to have
been composed after the model of that account of the son of
Wortigern, a victorious enemy of Saxons, which itself has
the character of a free fiction invented after the indications
of Anglo-Saxon documents.1
The author notes Ida as the first native Saxon king ; his
idea was probably derived from the circumstance, that in the
chronological summary of Beda, the name of Ida happens to
be that first mentioned.
VIII. Genealogies, cc. 57-66. — We are presented with
1 The battles of Worthemir also begin with a battle, or perhaps two bat-
tles, fought on the bank of a river.
DOUBTS CONCERNING NENNIUS. 665
pedigrees of royal Saxon lines, followed by brief notices of
early Northumbrian history.
The genealogies are : (1) Bernician, to Egfrid (ob. 685) ; l
(2) Kentian, to Egbert (ob. 673) ; (3) East Anglian, to a
son of Aldwulf (A. until after 692) ; (4) Mercian, to Eg-
ferth, son of Offa (ob. 794) ; (5) Deiran and Northumbrian,
to Egbert, Archbishop of York (ob. 766, but mentioned
as living in time past).
Historical paragraphs recite that a British king, Dutigirn,
fought valiantly against Ida, whose reign is described as the
flowering-time of British poesy ; the chief bards are enu-
merated, among these Taliessin. At this time also lived
Mailcun of North Wales, whose ancestor Cunedag, 146
years previous, had migrated from Manau Guotodin in the
north, and expelled the Scots from the country.
Reigns of sons of Ida are noted, with the number of years
of each ; as adversaries of Hussa are mentioned four British
princes, Urbgen, Riderch Hen (i. e., the Old), Guallanc
(read Guallauc), and Morcant. Urbgen is said to have
fought bravely against Deodric (i. e., Theodric) son of Ida,
and to have blockaded him in the island of Metcaud (Lin-
disfarne), but during the campaign to have been poisoned by
the jealous Morcant.
Catguallart (the Cadwallader of Geoffrey of Monmouth),
is said to have died of pestilence. Particular mention
is made of the battle of Campus Gai (i. e., Winwaed), in
which Penda destroyed Welsh princes alied with Oswy ;
only one king escaped, who, from his flight before the battle,
received the appellation of Catguommed (Battle-refuser).
A few lines are given to Penda.
A final chapter is devoted to a computation already noted.
The prominence given to Ida and Northumbria shows
1 Variant orthography disregarded.
666 WILLIAM WELLS NEWELL.
that these chapters were composed as an addition to the
Arthuriana, in which Ida is especially mentioned.1
Since the Northumbrian history ends with Egbert, it has
been argued that the document must have been composed
about his time, or near the end of the seventh century. If
so, the Genealogies would have to be regarded as a separate
document anterior to the Historia (contrary to the indication
observed in the preceding paragraph). The principle in-
voked, that a mediaeval chronicler is likely to bring a record
to a period near his own date, appears to me to have no
application in regard to a document which is merely a sequel
to a piece of ancient history ; again, in order to apply the
rule, it is necessary to set aside all that part of the section
which exceeds the limit. It will be noticed that the names
of the concluding personages in the several lines begin with
the same letters ; perhaps the writer had no better reason for
his choice.
As has already been noted in the case of the son of Hen-
gist, the composer of these chapters used Anglo-Saxon pedi-
grees similar to one which is still extant, and which, at all
events, shows the type of information at the disposal of the
Welsh author.2 As in the former case, the particular docu-
ment in question was not his direct source.3
For Saxon names of battles, the Historia substitutes Welsh
1 In 796 according to Zimmer. p. 82.
2 ( 1 ) After bringing the Mercian genealogy to Penda, the Historia, continues
with three brief pedigrees, those of Aethelred, son of Penda, Aethelbald,
son of Alweo, and Egfrid, son of Offa. In the same order, and with the
same members, the lists appear in Sweet, loc. tit. (2) East Anglian lists
proceed similarly from a son of Aldwulf named Aeflwold (in the Historia
Elric, doubtless merely a scribal corruption) ; according to Florence of
Worcester, these princes were brothers. (3) For the agreement and disa-
greement as to the Kentish line see above, p. 662.
3 The Historia gives for Northumbria an unintelligible series up to
Oswy ; Sweet has nothing correspondent. (2) The Historia derives Ead-
berht and Bishop Egbert through Eata and Leodwald from Aethelric,
legitimate son of Ida ; Sweet (as does Florence) from an illegitimate Occ.
DOUBTS CONCERNING NENNIU8. 667
titles, and bestows on Saxon kings Welsh surnames. It
seems to follow that the author knew and used the work of
Welsh writers of history. These forerunners, however,
appear not to have had at their disposal any original inform-
ation ; judging from the notices, they seem to have obtained
suggestions from Anglo-Saxon records, which they recast,
expand, and contradict in such manner as to satisfy national
aspirations. For example : Beda relates the baptism of
Aeanfled, daughter of Edwin of Northumbria, who at Pen-
tecost was baptised with twelve of her people ; on the
following Easter Edwin himself was baptized, with as many
as were to be saved ; the ceremony was performed by Paulinus,
Archbishop of York. As to the same event, the Historia
affirms that the princess underwent the rite eleven days after
Pentecost ; on the next Easter, Edwin with twelve thousand
of his people followed her example; Rum, son of Urbgen
officiated. The correspondence in the number twelve to my
mind shows that the ultimate source was Beda ; out of defer-
ence for propriety and probability, a Welsh writer has chosen
to substitute the name of a celebrated countryman as officia-
ting prelate.1 Of a similar procedure the Genealogies
contain other examples.2
1 At this point a glossator already mentioned, the self-styled pupil of
Beulan, introduces a curious comment ; a bishop Renchidus, and Elbobdus,
' ' episcoporum sanctissimus," had confided to him ("mihi tradiderunt,"
c. 63) that Paulinus and Rum were one and the same person ! The em-
phasis laid on the name seems to indicate that by Elbobdus he meant that
Elvodugus who figures in the Nennius preface, and who is now described
as deceased. If this be a correct inference, the forgery is surely plain.
The author of the preface, a glossator of the twelfth century, in order to
popularize his invention, recommended Nennius as a pupil of the famous
Elbodg ; the imitator with whose lucubration (lucus a non lueendo) we are
now concerned is pleased to pose as a writer of the ninth century, not only
a pupil of the presumably well-known Beulan, but also an intimate ac-
quaintance and protege of the same Elbodg.
JThe Historia (c. 57) credits Oswy with a second queen Riemmelth,
daughter of Royth, son of Rum. — Beda tells us that Ida had six sons by
legitimate queens, and six by concubines ; the Historia, while retaining the
16
668 WILLIAM WELLS NEWELL.
The four kings said to have contended with sons of Ida
include two historically known. Kiderch is the Rodercus of
Adamnan, who states that this prince died peacefully in his
bed,1 Morcant is that Morken, who in the Life of Kenti-
gern is noted as an adversary of the saint ; 2 doubtless, the
crime laid to his account in the Historia is only an echo of
the resulting unpopularity. The earlier writers do not men-
tion any Saxon wars or alliances of these princes ; probably
the narrative of the Historia is purely imaginative.
According to De Excidio, a Maglocunus was the most
important British prince in the time of the writer ; the terri-
tory of this king is not stated. Inasmuch as a king of
South Wales is named, later Welsh readers would naturally
conclude that Mailcun must needs have been a North Welsh-
man. In an earlier chapter of the Historia, a Cuneda has
been noted as expeller of Scots (Irish) from South Wales ;
this activity is now extended to North Wales, and Cunedag
(the variant orthography may retain the older form of the
name) is pressed into service as ancestor, the number of years
intervening between him and Mailcun being accurately
determined.
There is nothing further which serves to indicate the
possession, on the part of the writers, of any independent
Welsh historical records.3
names given by Beda, chooses to affirm that Ida had only one queen
Bearnoch ; the name is only a corruption of Bebba, who, according to
Beda, gave her hame to Bebbanburgh or Bamborough (for which the Hist-
toria prefers to substitute a Welsh appellation) .
1 Life of Saint Columba, ed. by W. Beeves, Edinburgh, 1874, 1, 8. Ko-
dercus filius Tothail reigned at Petra Cloithe (Clyde Eock, Dumbarton). —
The Life of Kentigern calls him Rederech, and says that he was buried
in Glasgow, c. 45.
2 Lives of SS. Ninian and S. Kentigern. A. P. Forbes, Edinburgh, 1874,
c. 22.
3 Edwin is said to have destroyed a kingdom of Elmet, not otherwise
mentioned.
DOUBTS CONCERNING NENNIUS. 669
A chronological chapter, already considered, adds an addi-
tional tinge of obscurity to the darkness which surrounds
the name of Ambrosius.1
IX. Civitatesj o. 66. — Given are names of the twenty-
eight British cities alluded to in the geographical chapter.
No doubt the writer supplied the names from his own
sense of historical probability. Many cannot now be iden-
tified.
We observe, as usual, the antiquarian present. "These
are the names of all the cities which are in Britain."
Mlrabilia. cc. 67-76. Mention is made of Welsh wells,
rivers, lakes, caves, mountains, etc., possessing remarkable
qualities.
Of the phenomena some have a basis in natural properties,
others are purely miraculous, as for example the altar of
Saint Iltutus, which, as we are gravely informed, in the
writer's day continued to float in air, as was proven by
experiment.
Two items relate to Arthur. A stone in Builth is said to
show the imprint of a dog's foot, made by Cabal hound of
Arthur, while engaged in hunting the boar Troynt; the
stone, if removed, regularly returns to the same place.
Near a well called Licat Anir (i. e. Anir's Fount) is a
grave which is incapable of correct measurement, seeing that
1 A strife called Catguoloph is said to have been fought between Ambro-
sius and an otherwise unknown Guitolin, twelve years after the accession
of Wortegirn. The latter, according to the data given, should have begun
to reign in 425. The writer could not have intended the prophetic Ambro-
sius of the Life of Vortigern, who was not born at the time. The date
agrees no better with the Ambrosius of the De Excidio ; but all these desig-
nations of time are in the air. The history, no doubt, was in a state of
continuous bardic development, so that Guitolin and his battle may have
been contemporary inventions based on the earlier text of the Historic, itself.
670 WILLIAM WELLS NEWELL.
its dimensions perpetually vary ; this eccentricity the writer
had personally tested (but he may be only citing).1
Other marvels are added, which seem -to refer to Anglesey.
The custom of relating extraordinary characteristics of
localities continued into the twelfth century, as shown by
Giraldus, who introduces like statements into his account of
Ireland.
The properties ascribed to the irremovable stone and im-
measurable mound belong to mediaeval folk-lore, and might
be illustrated from Irish sources.
Annales Cambriae. — Appended to the Harleian MS. are
certain Welsh annals abd pedigrees, evidently composed as
commentary to the Genealogies.2
The writer of the annals brought these to 954. He used
an Irish chronicle, in which years were counted from an era
of 444 ; from this source he borrowed such entries as he
thought to concern his countrymen, and interspersed Welsh
notices. For the first three centuries from his era, additions
are few ; the items, where not matters of common knowledge,
seem to be dated according to his own sense of probability,
or in virtue of association with Irish entries which he fancied
to have a connection ; he was not in possession of any Welsh
record belonging to this period.
As to date, the form of certain proper names indicates
that he antedated Geoffrey of Monmouth (while the particu-
lar copy of Harleian may perhaps have been written after
Geoffrey).3 It has been proposed to apply the principle,
that a mediaeval chronicler may be expected to bring chron-
1 Zimmer, p. 114, identifies the name with that of a brook Amir.
2 Edited together with continuations to 1286 and 1288, by Williams Ab
Ithel, Annales Cambriae (Rolls Publ. ), London, 1860.
3 So much may be inferred from the entries relating to the battles of
Badon and Camlan.
DOUBTS CONCERNING NENNIUS. 671
ology down to his own year of writing ; this, however, is a
doctrine too fallacious to deserve serious consideration ; the
later entries present no character of freshness which indicates
them as contemporary.
The annals, I think, do not affect opinions as to the date
of the Historia, which must be otherwise determined.
The same remark applies to the genealogies.1
The inquiry now ended, and which has been reduced to
the briefest possible limits of space, appears to justify the
following opinions.
The accepted text of the Historia (represented by Harle-
ian) is not independent, but is a recast of that found in
Chartres. The core and oldest part of the compilation is
that account of the Saxon Conquest which I call a biography
of Wortigern ; to this kernel were gradually prefixed and
added chapters which once were glosses, but which editors
received into the text. The biography did not antedate the
tenth century. The edition of Chartres was made in the
same century ; that of Harleian was not prepared until the
eleventh century. The Arthurian passage, contained only
in the later edition, gives no sign of an earlier date. The
Historia) in all its parts, was founded neither on history nor
tradition, but on literary invention ; the writers did not have
access to Welsh records, but constructed their narratives by
the help of suggestions taken in part from the usual chrono-
logical handbooks, in part from Anglo-Saxon writers.
In Ireland, the Historia had a remarkable influence ; by
analogy, it may be guessed that the like was true in Wales.
The Arthurian notice, especially, may for the first time have
given a solid structure to floating traditions concerning
Arthur, and may have become the foundation of those fabulae
1 These carry upward the pedigree of a son of Ho well Da, who died in
987. Zimmer, p. 87. Phillimore, Y Cymmrodor, ix, 169.
672 WILLIAM WELLS NEWELL.
Britonum denounced by William of Malmesbury. The total
loss of eleventh century Welsh literature prevents the veri-
fication of such conjectures.
It is certain that Geoffrey of Monmouth made the Historia
the basis of his historical fiction ; in this manner, mediately,
through Historia Regum Britanniae, the treatise, in itself
trivial, came to exercise a great influence on European letters.
WILLIAM WELLS NEWELL.
PUBLICATIONS
OF THE
Modern Language Association of America
19O5.
VOL. XX, 4. NEW SERIES, VOL. XIII, 4.
XX.— THE KNIGHT OF THE LION.1
" L'autre comtava de Galvain,
E del leo quefon compain
Del cavattier qu'estors Luneta."
(Roman de Flamenca, w. 665-7. )
I.
The following pages are a discussion of the origin of the
second half of Chretien's Ivain; the part of the story, namely,
in which the hero wins the title Chevalier au Lion. They
are a continuation of a study published in 1903,2 which dealt
chiefly with the first half of the romance. That study, to
which frequent reference must necessarily be made, endeavored
to show that the Ivain is a partly rationalized fairy mistress
story. The kernel of the evidence there presented was a
detailed comparison 3 of the Ivain with stories in the Lebor
na h- Uidre (LU) and the Book of Leinster (LL), two Irish
1 The writer acknowledges the courtesy with which authorities of Harvard
University Library have given access to its great resources.
* /train; A Study in the Origins of Arthurian Romance, in Studies and
Notes, vin, 1-147. (This study was written in 1900. )
3 See especially pp. 43 ff.
673
674 ARTHUR C. L. BROWN.
manuscripts that were actually written before the time of
J Chretien de Troyes. The first part of the Ivain was shown
to be founded, almost incident for incident, on the well-known
Celtic tale, of which the Serglige Conculaind is an ancient
example, about a mortal who is invited to fairyland, journeys
thither successfully and weds a fairy queen, but disobeys her
injunctions, loses her, becomes insane and has to be cured by
a magic remedy.
\j If this explanation, which has met with wide acceptance *
and which seems difficult to refute, be correct, then the
second part of the story, beginning where Ivain is cured
of his madness, ought to be in origin a journey of wonders,
in which the hero aided by a helpful beast should fight his
way through terrible dangers back into the Other World.
Fairy mistress stories in Celtic and elsewhere are apt to end
with the happy return of the hero to live with his super-
natural wife. The second part of the Ivain would thus be a
1 See reviews of Twain A Study : Golther, Studien zur vgl. Litteraturge-
schichte, iv, 481-85 (1904) ; Zt. f. from. Sp., xxvui, Kef. 34-37 (1905) ;
Jeanroy, Rev. Critique, MX, 4-5; Huet, MoyenAge, (1904) 65-66; McKerrow,
Mod. Lang. Quarterly, vn, 100-102 ; Mtze, Mod. Lang. Notes, xix, 82-84 ;
and cf. Golther' s review of Foerster's Yvain, edition of 1902, Zt. /. franz.
Sp., xxv, Ref. 138-140 ; and the important article byEhrismann, Mdrchen
im hofischen Epos, Beitrdge z. Gesch. d. deut. Sp., xxx, 14-54. Even the
distinguished editor of Chretien's works, whose resolute opposition to any
theory that should detract from the originality of the author of Ivain is
well known, has of late admitted the presence of more and more folk-lore
features. Compare Foerster's Yvain, ed. 1891, p. xii, with his new edition,
1902, p. xli. Professor Foerster's recent admission that the "marchen"
of a maid freed from the power of a giant lies at the bottom of the Esclados
combat, restricts his conception of the independence of Chretien consider-
ably. Professor Foerster's view is of course quite different from my
contention in Twain A Study, which is that almost the whole of the Ivain is
based on one marchen. That this marchen, which is in its main outlines an
unmistakable fairy mistress story, had been contaminated by a second
theme, that of a giant with a captive maid, was noticed in Twain A Study,
p. 50 ff. Professor Foerster absolutely refuses to call the marchen of which
he speaks Celtic ( Yvain, ed. 1902, p. xlviii).
THE KNIGHT OF THE LION. 675
sort of a repetition of the first. The hero after he has lost
his lady must begin all over again and fight his way anew
through the Perilous Passages into the Other World. Such
is in brief the theory which the following pages will discuss.
This theory if at all tenable certainly has a very attractive
look. According to it Chretien drew almost every incident
in the entire romance from one coherent Celtic tale. A
priori it is, of course, much more probable that he got all
his incidents from one source, rather than that he pieced
them together hit or miss from all sorts of materials.
Certain rather obvious objections, which at first glance
might appear important, have doubtless prevented this theory
from receiving attention by previous investigators.
The first objection is based on the fact that the lion is not
an inhabitant of Celtic forests, and on the inference that the
beast cannot therefore have figured in an ancient Celtic tale.1
This inference it will be seen presently is unwarranted.
Another objection is that Chretien handles the theme of
the grateful lion with such evident delight, and attributes
to the beast such exquisite chivalry, that the whole episode
might seem to be a pet idea which Chretien was introducing
from outside sources into his romance. Rash would he be
who should assert that Chretien could not have known some
crusader's tale of a helpful lion like that told of the histori-
cal crusader Goufier de Lastours.2 Still more rash he who
should refuse to see in the way in which the lion episode
is handled traces of the delicate fancy of the French poet.
Chretien's preoccupation with questions of motive and senti-
ment is always at work modifying his material. He never
1 Cf. Foerster, Yvain, ed. 1902, p. xxvi.
2 See besides the references given in Iwain A Study, pp. 129-132 ; Thomas,
Romania, xxxiv, 55-56 ; McKenzie in these Publications, xx, 397-98 ;
Foerster, op. cit., p. xlvii ; and cf. O. M. Johnston, Proc. of Am. Phil.
Assoc., Vol. xxxn (1901), p. li.
676 ARTHUR C. L. BROWN.
seems, however, to go out of his way to introduce new inci-
dent any more than greater writers than he — Chaucer or
Shakspere. Chretien's interest was manifestly not in mere
plot any more than was Shakspere's. Just as Shakspere
was satisfied with the old tales of Macbeth and Lear, so
Chretien followed for his incidents folk-tales, or stories
founded on folk-tales, that came to his hand. Chretien
appears to have constructed nearly every incident in his
romance out of some suggestion made by his original tale.
That the lion was suggested to Chretien by something in his
original is, therefore, highly probable, though the present
form of the lion episodes in the Ivain may owe much to the
influence of chivalric tales coming from the lion-haunted
Orient.
A third objection is based on a real difficulty. The
explanation of the second part of the Ivain is not simple
and straightforward like that of the first. The adventures
of the second part of the Ivain do not as they stand consti-
tute a true series of dangers that have to be surmounted in
order to reenter fairyland. This objection is met by point-
ing out that some of the adventures of the second part have
been interchanged and new material has been introduced.
This is no gratuitous assumption. As the episodes stand
they are not mutually coherent but contain contradictions.
Before taking up this point it is expedient very briefly
to summarize the romance. In the summary, statements
inferred on the theory that the Ivain is a partly rationalized
Celtic Otherworld Journey story are placed between brackets.1
Phrases that may be used to name the episodes are printed
in italics. The episodes are numbered for convenience in
reference :
1 Scarcely an incident of the 31 here enumerated resists explanation as
the more or less rationalized form of an episode originally belonging to an
Otherworld Journey Story.
THE KNIGHT OF THE LION. 677
SUMMARY OF CHRETIEN'S IVAIN.
( 1 ) [The fairy lady Laudine sends her damsel messenger, Lunete, to
Arthur's court to invite the visit of a mortal hero].1 (2) The first
adventurer, Calogrenant, returns unsuccessful and relates his story.2 (3)
The hero Iwain sets out alone through a thorny tangled wilderness,3 (4) and
is entertained by a hospitable host and his lovely daughter who give Iwain
directions.4 (5) Iwain meets a monster herdsman who supplies more infor-
mation about the way.6 (6) Iwain follows a narrow path6 that leads him
to the Marvellous landscape [of the Other World] , a great tree overshadow-
ing a spring of water and a stone.7 (7) He pours water from the Fountain
Perilous on the stone stirring up thereby a terrible storm8 (8) which
1 Inferred from Jvain, w. 1004 ff. In the version in Malory's Mort
Darthur, Bk. vn, which has some features more archaic than Chretien's
poem, Lynet appears as messenger at Arthur's court. Such messengers
are : Liban in the Serglige Conculaind, the "demoiselle" messenger in La
Mule sans Frein, p. 692, below, and in Chevalier du Papegau, p. 698, below ;
Helie in Bel Inconnu, Nereja in Wigdlois, the "pucele" in Rigomer. On
the fairy messenger see Paris, Rom., x, 476 f.
2Cf. Loegaire and Cbnall in Fled Bricrend, and Kay in La Mule sans
Frein.
8 See p. 690, below.
4 Cf . the ' ' large house in the glen ' ' in Tochmarc Emere, p. 689, below ;
Evrain in Erec (Joy of the Court) ; the abbot of the " jsemerlichen "
monastery in Lanzelet (ed. Hahn, vv. 3828 ff. ) ; " Le Chevalier Amoureux "
in Papegau, p. 699, below ; Geriaume in Huon ( ed. Guessard, Dunostre epi-
sode) ; Meliadus in Meraugis (ed. Friedwagner, v. 2910 ff.) ; "Dodines
der wilde" who pilots Arthur across the screaming moss and entertains
him (Lanzelet, vv. 7084 ff. ) : cf. also Ehrismann, Beit. z. Gesch. d. deut.
Sp. , xxx, 24, 26 and 46 f. In MacManus, In Chimney Corners, p. 43, is
an Irish tale with a similar figure.
5 See p. 682, below.
6 Such a path is in Tochmarc Emere, p. 689, below ; La Mule sans Frein,
p. 692 ; Papegau, p. 699, and Wigdlois, v. 4505.
7 See Iwain A Study, p. 82 ff., p. 133 ff., and to the lists there given add
that traces of this landscape occur in La Mule sans Frein; Lanzelet (Iweret
episode) ; Huon (Dunostre) ; Papegau; Wigdlois; Wolfdietrich; Fergus (ed.
Martin, vv. 3656 ff.), etc., etc.
8A storm of wind and rain defending the Otherworld Castle is a not
uncommon motive. In Fled Bricrend the heroes on their way to the castle
of Curoi are overtaken by a hideous black cloud, a sort of druidical mist
(Iwain A Study, p. 53, note). Mailduin and other adventurers in the
678 ARTHUR C. L. BROWN.
amounts to a challenge.1 (9 ) He is attacked in mortal combat by a gigantic
warrior called Esclados the Red.2 Pursuing this warrior, to whom he has
given a death blow, (10) I wain traverses a perilous passage, has his steed cut in
imrama pass through great storms (Twain A Study, pp. 60, 96). The Isle
of St. Brandan, a variant of the Celtic Other World, is defended by terri-
ble storms, see d'Avezac, Les Isles Fantastiques de V Ocean Occidental,
Nouvelles Annales des Voyages ( 1845 ), I, 303 ; Higginson, Tales of the En-
chanted Islands, p. 211. In the Mabinogi Manawyddan, son of Llyr, after
a thunderstorm and a fall of mist, Pryderi and Ehiannon vanish into
the Other World, Loth, Les Mob., i, 107 (cf. I, 101, where an enchantment
is accompanied by thunder and rain). In Wigdlois, vv. 6804 ff., the castle
of Roaz is defended by a magic mist. A mist defends the castle of Malduc,
Lanzelet, w. 7589 ff. Both in Wigdlois, v. 6866 f., and inPapegau, p. 73,
a blast of air near the revolving wheel is mentioned : cf. the blast of wind
in La Salade (quoted by Miss Paton, Studies in Fairy MythoL, p. 53, note).
A storm is before the Otherworld Castle in the Turk and Gawain, w. 65 ff.,
and one beside the turning castle in the Pelerinage Charlemagne, w. 378 ff.
(For the suggestion of this note, and for references to the Turk and
Gawain and to the Pelerinage, I am indebted to Dr. K. G. T. Webster,
who is preparing a detailed study of the last named poem).
JA more natural challenge is in Lanzelet, w. 3899 ff., where L. strikes a
gong. Foerster thinks that this gong survives in the Ivain, v. 211 ff., in the
episode of the Hospitable Host (Foerster, Ivain, ed. 1902, p. xxxvff. ).
In Malory, Book vn, the Red Knight is challenged by blowing a horn
hanging by a sycamore ; cf. Perceval, vv. 21967 ff., 26508 ff. In Garel the
challenge is by breaking flowers in the garden of "Eskilabon der Wilde,"
ed. Walz, vv. 3234 ff., cf. Huon, vv. 4734 ff. In LU, Cuchulinn throws
the withe on the pillar stone of the Dun of Nechta's sons into the water as
a challenge to the fairy folk (Faraday, Cattle Raid of Cualnge, p. 30), or,
according to LL, he throws the whole pillar stone (Hull, CuchuUin Saga,
p. 148) ; cf. Hyde's note on striking a "pole of combat" as a challenge,
Beside the Fire, p. 180.
2 To the epithet "red" compare "the Rede Knyght of the Reed Laundes,"
Malory, Bk. vn (Iwain, p. 143) ; Mabonagrain clad in red, Erec (Joy of
the Court) ; Iweret with a red lion as his coat of arms, and a shield all red,
Lanzelet, vv. 4420 ff . ; the Marshal in red armour in Papegau, p. 699, below ;
"Estamus le roux" in Ysaye le Triste, Zt. f. rom. Phil., xxv, 657 ff. ;
Margarijs "mit roden wapenen" and "enen roden scilt" in the Dutch
Lancelot, ed. Jonckbloet, vv. 4484 ff. ; Avartach clad in a scarlet mantle in
the Gilla Decair (Iwain, p. 105) ; the Red Gruagach in the Tale of Manus,
p. 697, below, and the mysterious character Tomas Fuilteach (Thomas the
Bloody), lord of an enchanted castle in Irish folk-tales, Hyde, An Sgealuidhe
Gaedhealach, p. 83, et passim.
THE KNIGHT OF THE LION. 679
two behind him and finds himself made prisoner by the falling portcullis,1
of (11) the [Otherworld~] Castle. (12) I wain's rescue by the damsel Lunete
follows. (13) She gives him a ring of invisibility, one of the magic belong-
ings of the castle. (14) News from the "Dameisele Sauvage" * that Arthur
is coming to essay the adventure of the fountain (15) persuades the [fairy] '\
lady Laudine to marriage with Iwain the slayer of E&dados (Laudine is
thought of as the widow of Esclados) . (16) Arthur and his knights are met
at the Fountain Perilous by Iwain who, having assumed the function of
Esclados as defender of the fountain, ignominiously overthrows Kay and
then entertains Arthur at the Castle. (17) Iwain departs for a year taking
a magic ring [that doubtless conferred the power of returning at will to the
Otherworld castle]. (18) He overstays his time. Laudine1 s lave changes to
hate, and her damsel messenger deprives Iwain of the ring. (19) I wain I j
in despair [at his loss of power to return to the Otherworld Castle] loses his \
reason and lives like a beast in the forest. (20) A hermit gives him bread.
(21 ) He is cured by a damsel with a. fairy remedy, and (22) entertained by
the hospitable lady of a castle who is beset by a hostile baron. She gives
Iwain arms and a notable steed and he delivers her from her foe. (23)
Iwain leaves this castle and rides through a dense forest till (24) he
encounters a lion and a serpent fighting. He slays the serpent.* (25) The
1 See Iwain A Study, p. 75 f . Cf. the copper men with clashing flails in
Huon (Dunostre), vv. 4552 ff. ; the revolving wheels in Papegau, p. 699,
below, and in Wigdlois, w. 6775ft. ; "La vielle moussue" with a flail,
Fergus, w. 3734 ff. ; and Voretzsch, Epische Studien, p. 133 ff. , where the
sword-bridge motive is compared.
2 This personage is unexplained. Compare, however, the ' ' femme sau-
vage ' ' in Papegau, p. 72, 1. 6, from whose ferocious embrace the hero had
difficulty in escaping. In Kulhwch and Olwen Kay had a similar escape
from the wife of Custennin, the shepherd who points out the way (Loth,
Les Mob., I, 228). The figure is doubtless a traditional one, as inhabitant
of the tangled forest at the margin of the Other World.
SA corresponding situation occurs three times in Wolfdietrich B (ed.
Amelung and Janicke). W. helps an elephant against a "wurm," str.
512 ff., and a lion against a " wurm," str. 667 ff. and 722 ff. Wolfdietrich
B contains the Marvellous Fountain, str. 796 ff. and Landscape, str. 350 ff. ;
"ein waltman" that shows the way to an adventure, str. 661 ff. ; the lion
and serpent combat and the helpful lion ; the carrying of the wounded lion
to a castle to be healed, str. 730 ff. (cf. Ivain, vv. 4652 ff.), the releasing
of the lion just at the critical moment to help the hero overcome a vassal
(Wildunc) who has ursurped the hero's rightful place beside the lady, str.
782 ff. (cf. Iwain' s combat with the wicked seneschal and the aid given by
the lion, p. 701, below). Of course the Wolfdietrich is a hodge-podge of
materials, but it is impossible that all of these incidents should occur both
680 AETHUE C. L. BBOWN.
thankful lion follows him like a dog, and at evening pulls down a deer and
brings the carcass for his master to cook and eat. (26) Iwain returns to the
Fountain Perilous, where he finds that Lunete has been traduced, and that,
to clear her, Laudine's wicked seneschal must be slain. (27) Iwain secures
entertainment for the night at a castle beset by giant Harpin. Aided by the
lion he kills the giant and delivers the daughter of the lord of the castle.
(28) Again at the Fountain Perilous Iwain aided by the lion slays the
wicked seneschal and frees Lunete. (29) Iwain visits the Castle of III Adven-
ture, and, aided by the lion, slays two goblins and disenchants the place.
(30) Iwain espouses the cause of the younger daughter of the Black Thorn
and fights Gawain to a stand-still. (3t ) Again at the Fountain Perilous
Iwain pours water on the stone until he regains admission to the [Other-
world] castle, and to his [fairy] mistress Laudine.
II.
With this summary before us, it is easy to observe the
following irrationalities in the second part of the romance.
If, as we are told in 31, Iwain has but to pour much water
on the stone and raise a very great tempest in order to regain
admission to the Otherworld Castle, the question arises, why
did he neglect this obvious expedient so long ? He was at
the Fountain Perilous in 26, and again in 28. Another
incongruity appears in 3O. The helpful lion here drops
suddenly out of the story, as if forgotten for a moment, and
turns up unexpectedly when the incident is over.1 The
attentive reader will be struck too by something incongruous
in it and in the Ivain by accident. W. must then have borrowed from I.
Evidently from some version more primitive than Chretien's, for W. has
the entrance through the marvellous fountain to reach the Other World,
str. 796 ff., an archaic motive not in I. (see Iwain A Study, p. 117). The
lion helping W. fight a serpent (not vice versa) is primitive for the incident
must have arisen out of a helpful lion's guiding the hero through a vale
of serpents (see p. 686, below). The circumstances of the lion's helping
Wolfdietrich in his fight with the wicked vassal are better explained in W.
than in 7. (see p. 682, below).
1 Paris surmised that in this incident Chretien was not following his
source, Journal des Savants (1902), p. 290, note 2.
THE KNIGHT OF THE LION. 681
about 3O, the "Daughters of the Black Thorn." It has no
folk-lore features like the rest of the romance. It seems
dragged in solely to give an excuse for I wain's return to
Arthur's court, the only place, of course, where he could
encounter Gawain.
If one turns to the Welsh version, the Lady of the v
Fountain,1 one will see these adventures of the second part
of the romance more nearly in their original order. In the
Welsh the combat between Iwain and Gawain occurs directly
after the overthrow of Kay, when Arthur and all his knights
are at the Fountain Perilous. This is a much more natural
place for this encounter. One understands under this arrange-
ment why there is no question of the helpful lion, since it has
not yet entered the romance. In the Welsh the incongruous
adventure of the Daughters of the Black Thorn (3O) does
not occur at all. The Welsh makes Iwain regain admission
to the Otherworld Castle and to the favor of the fairy lady
in 28, and the romance ends there. The "Castle of 111
Adventure " (29) is given separately in the Welsh as a sort
of an appendix. This is obviously right. Episode 29 has
no connection with the rest of the romance but is an inde-
pendent variant of the well-known Otherworld Journey
theme. In the Welsh the lion is not described as taking
part in the combat of 29,2 a hint that this episode has a
different origin from that of the rest of the romance.
In the Welsh the pointless repetition of visits to the /
Fountain Perilous is avoided. We see from it, though no
explanations are given, that the lion guided Iwain back to
the Castle of the Fay. Immediately after the lion was
encountered (25), Iwain found himself at the Fountain Peri-
lous (26). Then follows the slaying of Giant Harpin (27),
1 Loth, Les Mabinogion, II, 1 ff.
8 See, however, p. 701, below.
682 AKTHUB C. L. BEOWN.
who was perhaps one of the monsters that defended the
entrance to the Other World. Then comes the mortal com-
bat against the wicked seneschal (28), and the end of the
story (31). The seneschal had manifestly usurped the place
formerly held by Twain, and before him by Esclados, as
possessor of the lady and defender of the Fountain. Natu-
rally therefore by slaying the seneschal,1 Iwain reconquered
his old position beside the fay, and regained admission to
the Otherworld Castle.
It is not in the second half of the romance only, that the
Welsh preserves features more original than those given by
Chretien. The Huge Herdsman (5) is in Chretien's poem a
mere hodge-podge, but in the Welsh he is a coherent monster.
In Ivain, vv. 278-409, this "vilain qui resanbloit mor," had
a head larger than that of a horse, and mossy ears the size
of an elephant's. He had the eyes of an owl, the nose of a
cat, his mouth was cleft like that of a wolf and his boar's
teeth were sharp and red. He wore the newly flayed skins
of two oxen, sat on a stump with a huge club in his hand
and did not speak any more than a beast would do. Small
wonder that Calogrenant's first words were : " Se tu es buene
chose ou non ? " The monster replied, " Je sui uns hon." 2
In appearance evidently the creature was more beast than
man.
The description of this creature is in the Welsh more
coherent :
"A black man of huge stature, seated at the summit of a mound. He
had but one foot, and one eye in the middle of his forehead. In his hand
he carried a massive iron club. . . . About him were a thousand savage
animals. . . . He was the guardian of the forest." s
Readers of Celtic tales are acquainted with this one-legged,
1 In the Welsh, not a seneschal but two pages are the ursurpers.
*Ivain, vv. 329-30. 3Loth, Les Mob., n, 8-9.
THE KNIGHT OF THE LION. 683
one-eyed and often one-handed figure, under the name of the
Fdchan. He appears both in Irish and in Highland Scotch
tales, and the descriptions from the various sources and
that just quoted from the Lady of the Fountain, tally so
exactly as to make unavoidable the conclusion that the
Fdchan was a very ancient figure in pan-Celtic story.1
MacPhie, Campbell's Highland informant, knew the Fdchan
as " the Desert Creature of Glen Eiti .... with one hand
out of his chest, one leg out of his haunch, and one eye out
of the front of his face." According to MacPhie " he was a
giant and a wood-cutter, and went at a great pace before the
Irish king Murdoch MacBrian, when the latter had lost
sight of his red-eared hound, and his deer, and Ireland." 2
*A monster herdsman who plays the part of guide to the Other World
can be pointed out both in Irish and in Welsh story before the time of
Chretien. In Irish such a figure occurs in the Imram Mailduin, and has
been previously compared (Baist, Zt. f. rom. Phil., xxi, 402-405 ; Twain
A Study, p. 62). A similar figure in the admittedly ancient Welsh tale
Kulhwch and Olwen has hitherto escaped notice. In the course of the
great quest, which forms the main incident of the tale, King Arthur is
directed to the Otherworld Castle of the giant Yspaddeden by a shepherd
(Custennin) who is accompanied by a marvellous dog (Loth, Les Mob., i,
228) : "They beheld a vast flock of sheep which was boundless and with-
out end. And upon the top of a mound there was a herdsman keeping the
sheep. And a rug made of skins was upon him : and by his side was a
shaggy maistiff larger than a steed nine winters old. Never has he lost
even a lamb from his flock. . . . All the dead trees and bushes in the plain
he burnt with his breath down to the very ground."
2 Campbell, Pop. Tales of the W. Highlands, iv, 297-98 : cf. rr, 212 ; also
in, 382-86, where MacPhie' s version of the Lay of Manus is given. This
tells of an ' (Athach ' ' [= Fathach ' ' giant ' ' ] with but one eye, who comes as
herald from the king of Lochlann and acts as guide for Finn and the
Fianna to Lochlann. There, after Manus has been slain, Finn marries
the daughter and fetches her home with him. A figure like the Fdchan is
in the Irish tale "Children of the King of Norway," Irish Texts Soc., I,
135, and another called Koc, son of Diocan, in "Finn's Visit to Conan in
Ceann Sleibhe," Trans, of Oss. Soc., n, 141. Koc is a transformed man.
According to my explanation of the Ivain the Monster Herdsman must
have been in origin some creature of the fay in disguise, that is some one
684 ARTHUR C. I.. BROWN.
In an Irish MS., quoted by Douglas Hyde,1 a similar figure
is described :
"A morose unlovely churl (who held) a very thick iron flail-club in his
skinny hand .... and a girdle of the skins of deer and roebuck around
the thing that was his body, and one eye in the forehead of his black-faced
countenance, and one bare, hard, very hairy hand coming out of his chest,
and one veiny, thick-soled leg supporting him, and a close, firm, dark blue
mantle of twisted, hard-thick feathers protecting his body, and surely he
was more like unto devil than to man."
The agreement between these Celtic tales and the Welsh
Lady of the Fountain extends not only to the general de-
scription of the monster, and of his function as guardian
of the forest and guide to the traveller, but also to minute
details : the club of iron, the black-faced countenance. Here
are phenomena that can be accounted for on but one of two
hypotheses. Either the author of the Welsh version had
only Chretien's poem before him, but was conversant with
Celtic folk-lore, and altered Chretien's heterogeneous beast
to make it like a figure that was familiar to him in, native
tradition. Or, the Welsh Lady of the Fountain is not a
mere version of Chretien's poem, but its author had before
him some pre-Chr6tien poem from which he has preserved
1 features more primitive than any in the work of the great
poet. Those who see in the Welsh tale a mere adaptation
transformed : Iwain A Study, p. 114. In the Livre cPArtus, which copies the
incident from the Ivain, we are told that the Huge Plerdsman is Merlin,
who has taken that disguise in order to lead Calogrenant to the fountain,
see Zt. f. franz. Sp. u Litt., xvii, 54, and Freymond's long note on monstra
hominum. To refer all one-eyed monsters to the classic cyclop is an easy
but dangerous process. The combination of one eye, one foot [and one
hand] is tolerably rare, and the appearance of such a monster as woodsman
and guide seems peculiar to Celtic. But see Reinfrit von Braunschweig, ed.
Bartsch, vv. 19308-319, where men with one eye and one leg occur. On
cyclops see Bartsch, Herzog Ernst, pp. cxxxiv and clxvi f., and the learned
essay in Laistner, Hdtsd der Sphinx, n, 1 fl.
lBeside the Fire, xx-xxii.
THE KNIGHT OF THE LION. 685
of Chretien's famous romance must take refuge in the first
hypothesis — an hypothesis which might perhaps be reason-
able enough to explain a single incident, but becomes difficult
when several features in which the Welsh is more archaic
than the French are pointed out, and seems to break down
entirely when it is seen, as has been shown above, that the
Welsh version is more straightforward and rational than
the French. That the Welsh version, even if founded solely
on Chretien's poem, should be more Celtic than it in dress
and coloring, one understands. That, however, a Welsh
translator, who could not definitely have understood Chre-
tien's poem as an Otherworld Journey story, or the lion as
a guide to the Other World, since he affords the reader no
direct hint of this explanation any more than Chretien,
should yet have made the story more coherent than his
original, and especially should have made it end just where,
and in the precise way it ought to end, if the lion is a guide
to the fairy castle, is inconceivable. His lack of explana-
tion of the lion as a guide, is a guarantee of his good faith.
Had he explained, it might have been argued plausibly that
he was a conscious archaizer. The Welsh author must have
had the story before him in a more archaic form than the
existing romance of Chretien de Troyes.1
In the Welsh, the animals that come together at the
summons of the Monster Herdsman are as numerous2 "as
the stars in the sky, so that it was difficult [for Kynon] to
lln two particulars, not mentioned in the Welsh, Chretien's account of
the monster herdsman agrees with the Irish and Scottish descriptions quoted
above ; namely, in the garment of the skins of beasts, and in the appella-
tion vilain ("churl"). This fits perfectly with the hypothesis that both
Chretien and the Welsh version go back to a common original x, of which
in general the Welsh has kept the more primitive features, but from which,
as is natural, Chretien may from time to time have retained a detail dropped
out by the Welsh.
*Loth, Les Mob., n, 9.
686 ARTHUR C. L. BROWN.
find room in the glade to stand among them. There were
serpents and adders, and divers sorts of animals. And he
[the Herdsman] looked at them and bade them go and
feed ; and they bowed their heads and did him homage, as
vassals to their lord."
This strange horde of monsters, and especially the adders
and serpents, seem more archaic than the savage bulls fight-
ing, which are all that are mentioned by Chretien.1 One
easily recognizes in the serpents and dragons that bow their
heads in homage to the Guardian of the Forest, the fierce
creatures that beset the entrance to the Other World. It is
easy to see that, according to the original conception, only
he who was under the protection of the Monster Herdsman
could pass this infested glade. In I wain's second journey
(24) it was doubtless originally the task of the helpful lion
to act as conductor through this vale of serpents. From
this, the development of a helpful lion and a hurtful serpent
would be easy.2
In our comparison between the first and the second parts
„ of the Ivain it is perhaps, therefore, allowable to follow
the order indicated by the Welsh, which seems in several
instances to preserve features more original than the French
of Chretien.
The present discussion, however, does not depend upon
1Foerster's text mentions only wild bulls ; "Tors sauvages et espaarz,"
v. 280, but the variants "lions," and in another MS. "Ors et lieparz,"
exist, while the Swedish version reads, "lions, bears and panthers," and
the English "leopards, lions and bears," Yvain, ed. 1902, p. xxxix.
2 The helpful lion probably fought the serpents, and such an incident
suggested the lion and serpent combat. (In Wolfdietrich a lion helps W.
slay the serpent, see note on p. 680, above). The precise form, however,
which the combat, and the behavior of the lion, take in Chretien's poem
(and probably already in Chretien's original), appears to be due to the
influence of some chivalric legend like that attached to Goufier de
Lastours.
THE KNIGHT OF THE LION. 687
the question of the relationship between the Welsh version
and Chre'tien, a difficult problem, which is only taken up
here by the way, and cannot be further pursued.1
If, without resorting to the Welsh, we make Chretien's •,'
romance end at 28 the parallelism between the Otherworld
Journey of the first part of the Ivain, and that of the second,
can be easily made out. The hero sets out alone through a
tangled wilderness in 3, and again in 23. To the Hospit-
able Host and his daughter of 4 correspond the damsel of
the Fairy Remedy and the Hospitable Lady of 21 and 22.
To the Monster Herdsman of 5, who is more beast than
man, corresponds the helpful lion of 25. Both help the
hero on his way. Finally to the combat with Esclados at
the Fountain Perilous in 9, corresponds the battle with the
seneschal at the same fountain in 28.
There is then only an apparent difficulty in explaining
the second half of the Ivain as a journey of wonders that
corresponds in a general way to the first half. The lion
would be a guiding beast, who also aided the hero in over-
coming the monsters that guarded the passage.
1 To the vexed question of the relationship existing between three Welsh
stories in the Red Book of Hergest and three corresponding romances by
Chre'tien de Troves, I hope to return in another article. The evidence
given above tends strongly to prove that both Chre'tien' s poem and the
Lady of the Fountain go back to a common original. This lost French
version x must have itself rested, perhaps through several intermediaries,
on an essentially Celtic folk-tale. In x the original story was probably
already partly rationalized. Perhaps it was also somewhat confused and
corrupted. It is not necessary to attribute all of the inconsistencies of
Chretien's version to his lack of interest in, and probable lack of compre-
hension of, the Otherworld meaning of some of the folk-lore motives that
he used. The reader will of course turn to Foerster's discussion, Karren-
ritter, 1899, pp. cxxvii S.
688 ARTHUR C. L. BROWN.
III.
A lion l as guide to the Other "World appears in an ancient
Celtic story called the Tochmarc Emere or the Wooing of
Emer. This fine tale which is preserved in part hi the
well-known Irish MS. Lebor na h- Uidre, and can be proved
therefore to be older than 1050 A. D., tells of a lion that
guided and carried Cuchulinn on his journey to the Other
World. Since the tale has been but little studied, a summary
of the part of it which relates to the journey may be con-
veniently given : 2
Cuchulinn had parted from all his companions, and saw that he was
astray and ignorant of the way. "He beheld a terrible great beast like a
lion coming towards him which kept regarding him nor did him any harm.
Whatever way he went, the beast went before him, and moreover it turned
its side towards him. Then he took a leap and was on its neck. He did
not guide it, but went wherever the beast liked. Four days they went in
that wise until they came to the bounds of dwellers, and to an island,
1The lion was a familiar figure both in ancient Irish and in ancient
Welsh literature. A Dinnshenchas in the Book of Leinster gives as an ety-
mology of lumman "shield" the word leoman "lion," because, adds the
Dinnslienchas, "every shield has a lion on it." — Iwain, p. 130. In Math
the son of Mathonwy, one of the four genuine Mabinogion which are the
oldest of the tales in the Red Book of Hergest, is a character called "Lion
of the Steady Hand," Loth, Les Mob., I, 139. It is useless to multiply
examples.
3 Partly summarized and partly quoted from Kuno Meyer's translation
of the longer version, from MSS. LU and Stowe 992, in Archaeological Review,
i, 234-35, 298-306. It happens that LU breaks off shortly before the lion
is mentioned, but this cannot alter our opinion of the age of the incident,
since LU agrees with the later MSS. word for word so far as it goes. Indeed
Meyer thinks the shorter version of Tochmarc Emere is a piece of Irish of
the eighth century, and the longer of the eleventh (Rev. Celt., XT, 439).
Because of its importance I quote the passage from both versions : "A mbai
ann iarum co n-acai biastae vathmair mair ina docum amail levmon" (the
longer version, ed. Meyer, Zt. f. Celt. Phil., m, 248, § 63) : "Fochairt
iarom allaili m-beasti n-vathmair amail leoman" (the shorter version, Rev.
Gelt., xi, 446, line 43).
THE KNIGHT OF THE LION. 689
where lads were rowing on a small lake. They laughed at the unwonted
sight of a hurtful beast doing service to a man. Cuchulinn then leaped
off, and the beast parted from him, and he blessed it." He then went on
and "came to a large house in a great glen." There "he met a maiden
of fair make in the house. The maiden addressed him and bade him
welcome." She had known Cuchulinn before and she gave him to drink
and to eat. There was also a youth in the house, of whom Cuchulinn
inquired the way to the Dun of Scathach, or "Shadow" [the Queen of
the Other World]. "The youth taught him the way across the Plain
of 111 Luck .... the Youth gave him a wheel and told him to follow its
track thence across one-half of the plain. Then he gave him an apple,
and told him to follow the ground where the apple would run." l The
Youth also told him of "a large glen before him, and a single narrow path
through it, which was full of monsters to destroy him." 2 Cuchulinn made
1 For a ball as guide see Folk-Lore Record, rr, 186 ; Hyde, Beside the
Fire, p. 131, and An Sgealuidhe Oaedhealach, p. 441 ; Curtin, Myths and
Folk Lore of Ireland, p. 35.
*In the Siaburcharpat Conculaind, from LU, printed by O'Beirne Crowe
iaProc. of Royal Hist, and Arch. Assoc. of Ireland, 4th series, I, 385 f. (1871),
are verses describing an expedition of Cuchulinn to the Land of Scath
(Shadow). Evidently it is a second version of Cuchulinn' s Otherworld
journey, and therefore parallel to the Tochmarc Emere. Here we have
serpents, and a house full of toads and monsters, mentioned as obstacles
(cf. the serpents before the Castle of Falerin, Lanzelet, w. 7357 ff.) :
" Seven walls about that city —
Hateful was the fort :
A rampart of irons on each wall,
On that were nine heads.
Doors of iron on each flank —
Against us not great defences :
I struck them with my leg,
Until I drove them into fragments.
There was a pit in the Dun
Belonging to the king it is related —
Ten serpents burst
Over its border — it was a deed ! . . .
A house full of toads
They were let fly at us :
Sharp beaked monsters,
They stuck in my snout.
Fierce draconic monsters
To us they used to fall : . . .
Horse-tribe though they explained them."
690 AUTHOR C. L. BROWN.
his way across the Plain of 111 Luck and through the Perilous Glen as the
Youth had taught him. He then had to . pass the Bridge of the Cliff
which rose in the middle and threw back anyone who stepped on it. At
the third trial Cuchulinn succeeded in crossing the Bridge of the Cliff and
entering the Dun. Before possessing himself of Scathach, and of her
daughter Uathach, Cuchulinn was obliged to fight "a champion Cochar
Cruifne, a warrior of Scathach' s." " Sorrowful was the woman Scathach "
when Cuchulinn slew her champion. "And Cuchulinn said to her that he
would take upon himself the work and service of the man that had fallen,
so that he was the leader of her host and her champion in his stead."
Before returning from the Land of Shadow, Cuchulinn assisted the queen,
his mistress, in a battle against a second Otherworld queen called Aife, and
won for her a victory.
This ancient tale presents very many analogies to Chretien's
Ivain. Cuchulinn was all alone on his journey just as Calo-
grenant tells emphatically that he went : " seus come pai'sanz
.... querant avantures." l The large house in the great
glen, where Cuchulinn was entertained by a fair maiden, is
like the Castle of the Hospitable Host (4) where Calogre-
nant likewise found entertainment by a fair maiden, food,
drink and directions for the way. The lion corresponds in
a general way to the Monster Herdsman (5) that acted as
guide. The Perilous Glen is a parallel to the tangled woods
and dense thicket,2 through which Calogrenant penetrated
to the spring (3), and more exactly to the Glade of Serpents
and Dragons in the Welsh version to which attention has
been called. The Bridge of the Cliff that throws Cuchulinn
down,3 is manifestly a form of the Active Door incident,
JVv. 176-177.
' ' Parmi une forest espesse.
Mout i ot voie felenesse,
De ronces et d'espines plainne." — Vv. 181-3.
"L'estroit santier tot boissoneus
Que trop an est cusangoneus." — Vv. 699-700.
" [Santier] Plain de ronces et d'oscurteV'— V. 769.
3Cf. the magic bridge in Perceval, vv. 28554 ff., 28825 (ed. Potvin, IV,
377 ft).
THE KNIGHT OF THE LION. 691
represented in the Ivain by the falling portcullis (1O).
Cuchulinn's slaying of Cochar Cruifhe and taking the place
of the fallen warrior as champion and paramour of the
Otherworld Queen, is a startling parallel to Iwain's be-
havior towards Esclados the Red and his lady Laudine (9
and 15). We get in the Irish tale a glimpse at a cruder
and more primitive form of the situation so long a puzzle in
Chretien's romance of the sudden marriage of a widow to
the slayer of her husband.1
In the Tochmarc Emere, which is older than the time of v
Chretien, and is strikingly parallel to the Ivain, a lion guides
the hero on his journey to the Other World. In the Ivain
the lion is not said to act as a guide, though he accompanies
his master, hunts for him like a dog, and aids him in combat.
Chretien evidently did not understand that only by a Journey
of Wonders could Iwain win his way back to Laudine's
marvellous land. The various adventures of the second half
of the Ivain are, as has been pointed out, disconnected and
rather purposeless. Even in the Welsh, where the original
order seems better preserved, no explanation of the lion as a
guiding beast occurs. It is not hard however to see, that,
even in the present form of the story, the lion comes very
1 This parallel is more striking than that instanced in Iwain A Study,
p. 56, from LL and LIT, where Cuchulinn slew a giant (Curoi) who
inhabited a whirling castle, and married the giant's supernatural wife ; for,
in the Tochmarc Emere, we are expressly told that Cochar Cruifne is a mere
champion and creature of the fay Scathach. In my former study I argued
that in a primitive form of the episode the warrior must have been a mere'
creature of the fay, conjured up by her to test the hero's valour (just asi
Lynet conjures up an armed knight to fight the hero, in Malory, Bk. vn). ?"
Since the champion is a mere creature of the fay, no surprise need be felt
at her speedy acceptance of the conqueror. The turning up of this parallel,'
overlooked in my former study, strengthens notably my contention that we
have in an incident of this type the key to the puzzle of Laudine's speedy
marriage to the slayer of Esclados.
692 AETHUB C. L. BROWN.
near being a guide to the Other World.1 He brings Twain
food, accompanies him everywhere, and it is only by his
timely aid that Iwain survives the terrible battles of the
hazardous journey. The Tochmarc Emere greatly strengthens
the general explanation of the Ivain as a partly rationalized
Otherworld Journey story, and makes it highly probable
that the lion was in origin a guide and helper for the
marvellous road.
IV.
In the Tochmarc Emere the lion actually carries the hero
on its back. Perhaps this is a primitive form of the inci-
dent. In La Mule sans Frein,2 a French poem written
about 1200, but evidently based on a folk-tale of a far more
primitive time, appears a beast that carries the hero to the
Otherworld Adventure :
A damsel-messenger riding a mule without a bridle came to Arthur's
court and asked for the help of a knight to recover her bridle. Whoever
wished to undertake the adventure must mount the mule, and allow it to
choose its path, without attempting at all to direct it. We learn later that
the bridle is in the castle of a mysterious lady, evidently a partly rational-
ized fay, whose messenger the damsel is. Kay set out first, and rode on
the back of the mule, through a dense forest where lions, tigers, leopards
and other terrible creatures gathered round, but the beasts did obeisance to
the mule, and, out of respect to the mule and to the lady whose creature it
was, did not injure Kay. The mule then entered a narrow path, through
1 Cf. " Et itel vie, ce me sanble,
Com il orent la nuit menee,
Ont ansanble andui (i. e.j Iwain and the lion) demenee
Pres trestote cele semainue
Tant qu' avanture a lafontainne
Desoz le pin les amena." — Vv. 3486-91.
2 Meon, Nouveau Eecueil de Fabliaux, I, 1-37. La Mule sans Frein has
already been compared to the Ivain: Iwain A Study, p. 80, note ; Foerster,
Yvain, ed. 1902, p. Ixvi, note. An incident resembling La Mule sans Frein
is in Diu Krone, w. 12627 ff.
THE KNIGHT OF THE LION. 693
the Valley of the Fear of Death, which was beset by scorpions and serpents.
It knew the path, having often traversed it before, and followed it to a
bright, sparkling fountain in a meadow. Then it approached a bridge,
consisting of a single bar of iron not more than one-quarter of a foot wide,
that spanned a dreadful river. Kay lost courage when he caught a glimpse
of the river, and he forced the mule to return.
Gawain, more brave, allowed the helpful mule to carry him through all
the dangers, across the perilous bridge, over " li nuns au diable," and into
a turning castle, which spun round so swiftly that it cut off half of the
mule's tail behind Gawain, as he entered on the beast's back. In the castle,
besides playing the beheading game with a vUain who was as black as a
Moor, Gawain was obliged to fight, first two lions, then a knight, and lastly
two serpents, before he arrived at the lady. She said, "You have killed
all my beasts," l but the people of the castle rejoiced that the savage ani-
mals were dead. The lady would fain have persuaded Gawain to remain
with her, and be her lord, and the lord of all her castles, but he refused,
and departed with the bridle.
The parallels between this story and the Ivain are, of
course, very numerous. Here occur the damsel messenger,
the failure of the first adventurer, the solitary journey, the
dense forest, the savage beasts, the narrow path, the fountain,
the perilous passage, the cutting off of half of the mule's
tail, which corresponds to the severing of Iwain's horse
behind him by the falling portcullis, and lastly the success-
ful combat(s) with the creature(s) of the fay. The savage
beasts, " lions, tigers, leopards and other terrible creatures,"
and the Valley of the Fear of Death beset by scorpions and
serpents, are more like to the Welsh Lady of the Fountain
with its glade full of " serpents, dragons and divers sorts of
annuals " than to the fierce bulls of the Ivain.2 The obse-
quious behavior of these animals toward the guiding beast is
strikingly like that told of in the Welsh.3 It has been
1 The beasts and the champions that had to be fought were all in origin
the creatures of the fay. See p. 691, note 1.
JSee, however, p. 686, above.
3 Compare the description in La Mv2e sans Frein, w. 147-54 :
" Mes les bestes par conoissance
De la dame, e par enorance
694 ARTHUK C. L. BROWN.
noticed that the Welsh seems here to have preserved more
primitive features.
La Mule sans Frein contains also close parallels to the
Tochmare Emere. Its Valley of the Fear of Death, beset
by scorpions and serpents, is like Cuchulinn's Plain of 111
Luck, and his Perilous Glen, " full of monsters to destroy
him." Its terrible bridge and revolving castle, are like
Cuchulinn's Bridge of the Cliff, which threw him backward.
Its carrying mule that knows the way, and must not be
guided, is like Cuchulinn's " beast like a lion " that carried
him, and was not guided, but " went where it liked."
In Froissart's romance Meliador, a carrying stag bears the
hero to a fairy castle : *
De la mule que eles voient. •
Lea deus genoux & terre ploient.
Einsi por 1'anor de la Dame
S'agenoilloient de la jame,
Et por ce ase"ur se tienent,
Qu'en la forest gisent et vienent."
And w. 366-68 :
"Tot maintenant que il revoient
La mule que il connoissoient,
Les deus genouz & terre plient
Vers lou chevalier s'umelient."
With the passage from the Welsh quoted above, p. 686 : "And he looked at
them and bade them go feed ; and they bowed their heads and did him
homage as vassals to their lord."
The description of the tangled road in La Mule sans Frein is much like
that in the Ivain. Compare w. 169-172 :
" Quant il vint en une vale"e
Qui moult estoit parfonde et le"e
Et si estoit moult perillouse
Moult creux et moult tenebrose."
With the passages quoted from the Ivain above, p. 690, especially with
v. 769, "Plain de ronces et d'oscurte"." Cf. the corresponding passage in
Diu Kr6ne, w. 12781-2 : "ein tiefez tal . . . . s6 vinster und s6 eislich."
1Ed. Longnon, Soc. Anc. Text, w. 28362 ff.
THE KNIGHT OF THE LION. 695
The hunter Saigremor was led a long chase by a white stag. At length,
separated from all his comrades, and even from his horse, Saigremor was
astonished to behold the stag approach him, and appear to invite him to
mount. Despairing of being able to make his way on foot, Saigremor
sprang upon the back of the beast. The stag immediately bore him away
to a lake, into which it plunged. Presently Saigremor found himself in a
marvellous castle with Diana and her maidens. We are told that the stag
knew well what it ought to do. Without effort and without haste, it trans-
ported Saigremor into the lake. ' ' The fees ' ' had arranged thus l to have
Saigremor brought to their abode.
A marvellous horse that has the power of carrying its
rider across the sea to the Other World, is well-known in
Irish tales.2
In Kulhwch and Olwen which is the oldest of the Arthu-
rian tales contained in the Welsh MS. called The Red Book
of Hergest, and is generally admitted to be uninfluenced by
French romance, ajppears a salmon fish, that carries on its
back heroes who journey to the Other World : 3
Mabon, son of Modron, the only hunter that can hunt with the
marvellous dog Drutwyn, is imprisoned [in the Other World], "No
imprisonment was ever so grievous. ' ' Kai and Gwrhyr Gwalstawt leithoedd
[Long Man Translator of Tongues] set out to find this prison. They were
directed whither to go, successively, by a black bird, a stag, an owl, and an
eagle, and were carried over a water on the shoulders of a helpful salmon,
so that they came to the wall of the prison, and heard the wailing of
Mabon within. He could be released only by fighting. Kai and Gwrhyr
returned and told their story. Then Kai and Bedwyr set out, were ferried
over on the shoulders of the salmon, broke through the wall of the dungeon,
released Mabon, and brought him away.
1 Vv. 30343 ff. (Of course carrying beasts connect themselves with guid-
ing beasts which are extremely well known as fairy messengers. I forbear
to cite examples. See the long list in Miss Paton' s Studies in Fairy Mythology,
p. 230, note 3, and Hertz, Spidmannsbuch, 1900, p. 354. )
2 In the Acattamh no. Senorach, a compilation at least considerably older
than the fifteenth century, Ciaban and his companions when like to perish
in a terrible storm were taken upon the back of Manannan's horse and
carried across the waves to the Other World : O'Grady, Sttv. QcuL, n, 198-
201. In the Qilla Decair, Finn's men, stuck fast on the back of a monster
horse, were borne over-sea to the " Land of Promise :" Silv. Gad., n, 297 ff.
sLoth, Lea Mob., I, 261 ff.
696 ARTHUR C. L. BROWN.
This story of Mabon, son of Mordred,1 as given in
Kulhwch and Olwen is plainly a mere summary of what
must have been for the Welsh a well-known tale. This tale,
as one can see from the summary, must have contained the
incidents of an unsuccessful preliminary adventure, a helpful
carrying animal,2 a perilous passage across a water, and a
combat in the Other World. It shows that before the
time of Chretien, to the Welsh as well as to the Irish, the
notion of a beast helpful to the Otherworld Journey was
familiar.
The stories outlined hi this chapter are of unequal signifi-
cance and value. Taken together, however, these tales, all
of them connected with the Matter of Britain, strengthen
the conclusion based on the Tochmarc Emere, that a carrying
1 The appearance of Mabon in connection with an Otherworld Journey
and a helpful beast arouses special interest because there are various
reasons for suspecting that in early Welsh tradition Mabon was a parallel
figure, perhaps a doublet, to Owain [Ivain]. Kulhwch and Olwen makes
Modron the mother of Mabon. Modron was also the mother of Owain :
"Modron, daughter of Avallach and mother of Owein ab Uryen" (Loth,
Les Mob., rr, 260, translating from a Welsh triad in Myv. Arch., 392. 52).
Mabon and Owain then were brothers. An ancient poem from the Book of
Taliessin, Skene, Four Books, I, 363, associates Mabon and Owain. It is
well known that the names Mabon and some variant of Owain are often
mentioned together and applied to Otherworld figures : Mabon, Eurain in
Bel Inconnu; Mabon, Irayn in Libeaus Desconus; Mabonagrain, Evrain
in Erec; Mabounain, TJrain in Perceval; Urbain in Didot-Perceval (see
Philipot, Rom., XXV, 275-77, Miss Paton, Studies in Fairy Mythology, p.
210) , cf. Mabuz and Iweret in Lanzelet.
2 A capital of the fourteenth century on one of the pillars of the left side
of the nave of St. Peter's Church in Caen, represents eight figures, one of
them an unarmed man riding on a lion. Trebutien, Caen: Precis de son
Histoire (1855), p. 36. Two of the other figures are unmistakably Arthu-
rian (Lancelot on the sword bridge, and Lancelot on the perilous couch)
and De La Kue explained this as "Ivain, le Chevalier au Lion." The
explanation is not, however, certain. See Ga8te", Un Chapiteau de VEglise
Saint-Pierre de Caen (1887).
THE KNIGHT OF THE LION. 697
beast, which might be a lion,1 as an incident in the Other-
world Journey, was familiar to Celtic story.2
V.
In the lost twelfth century French romance which Saran
has shown3 lies behind the CJievalier du Papegau and the
Middle High German Wigdlois, was a guiding beast that
had power to direct an adventurer to the Other World. In
the Papegau* the incident with which we are concerned
begins while King Arthur is engaged in another adventure :
1 Can Arthur's extraordinary and romantic dream (Layamon, ed. Madden,
m, 120-21, vv. 28058-93) about being carried to sea on the back of a golden
lion and brought to shore by a friendly fish, be a reminiscence of some
Otherworld journey tale ?
2 Campbell, Tales of the W. Highlands, m, 367 ff., contains a recently
collected Gaelic tale about Manus that presents many similarities to the
Ivain. Manus, on his way to fairyland, was entertained at a Hospitable
House where he obtained a number of marvellous belongings : a sword, a
helmet, a cloth that spread itself with food, a chain that gave marvellous
strength, and especially a lion whelp which Manus carried away with him
wrapped in the folds of the magic cloth (cf. Twain' s carrying his wounded
lion on a shield to a castle to be healed, vv. 4652-80. Wolfdietrich like-
wise carried his wounded lion to a castle, Wolf. B, str. 730 ff. This curious
incident perhaps shows that the helpful beast was in origin a dog). Later
Manus took the part of a White Gruagach who was at war with a Bed
Gruagach. The lion carried Manus on its back across the sea to an other-
wise inaccessible land [the Other World]. It cleared a castle full of
monsters, and slew a "brown lap dog" that "came to eat Manus." It
helped Manus in his battle with the Ked Gruagach and finally it slew a
venomous horned creature (Beannach Nimhe), in which was the life of
the Ked Gruagach. The Bed Gruagach was killed, his head was put on a
stake, and Manus was crowned king of Lochlann. (On the Tale of Manus,
cf. Alex. Bugge, Contributions to the Hist, of Norsemen in Ireland, n, Norse
Elements in Gaelic Trad, of Mod. Times, p. 9, Videnskabsselskabets Sfcrifter,
hist. fil. klasse, 1900, no. 5.)
3Beitragc z. Oesch. d. deut. Sp., xxi, 253-420 ; see esp. 413-417.
4 Ed. Heuckenkampf (1896), p. 24, line 31 ff.
698 ARTHUR C. L. BROWN.
A damsel messenger (cf. Ivain 1 ) comes to Arthur and asks help.
King Beauvoisin (Belnain) of Ille Fort, a peninsula also called Eoyaume
aux Damoiselles,1 has been slain, and has left his realm and his daughter,
Flors de Mont, in charge of his Marshal. The Marshal has proved a
traitor (cf. 26). He holds the queen and the daughter in imprisonment,
and wishes to marry Flors de Mont. The messenger asks Arthur to come
to the aid of her lady. Accompanied by the damsel, Arthur made his way
past several hostile knights to the castle where the ladies were imprisoned.
Here Arthur, who goes by the name of Chevalier du Papegau,2 is told that
he must journey "tout seul sans nulle campaigne" (63. 30), through a
waste country where he can secure no food (in Wigdlois through a forest)
(cf. 3), to the Chastel Perilleux3 where the Marshal is to be found. Fif-
teen have gone, and none has ever returned. Only a beast that appears
every third day can act as guide.
When the beast appeared the hero set out. The beast bowed before the
hero "et luy feist semblant d'umilite"" (64. 12) [in Wigdlois played before
him like a dog, v. 4497] 4 to show its good will. It was " une moult belle
beste .... grande comme ung toriaux . . . . le col soutil ainsi comme ung
dragon . . . . le chief petit et fait ainsi comme ung serf .... deux cornea
en la teste plus blanches que neges a barres de fin or," its skin was red
(64. 4-8).5
XA well known term for the Celtic Other World; cf. "Isle as Puceles"
in the Castle-of -111- Ad venture Episode, Ivain, v. 5257; "meide lant"
in Lanzdet, v. 4685, etc.
2Cf. Iwain's fighting the seneschal under the sobriquet "Chevalier au
Lion" (28), and Wigalois' fighting under the name "Kiter mit dem
Bade," Wigdlois, v. 6279, etc.
8Cf. the "Fontainne Perilleuse," Ivain, v. 810, and the "Castle Peri-
lous" in Malory, Bk. vn.
4 So Iwain's lion bowed before him : —
" Et ses piez joinz li estandoit
Et vers terre ancline sa chiere,
S'estut sor les deus piez deriere
Et puis si se ragenoilloit
Et tote sa face moilloit
De lermes par humilite1." Vv. 3396-3401.
It also pulled down a stag, "Aussi com uns brachez feist," v. 3439. Com-
pare the behavior of the beasts in the Lady of the Fountain, etc., p. 686,
above.
5 The corresponding description in Wigdlois, ed. Pfeiffer, vv. 3853 ff., is :
"Ein tier daz ist s6 wolgetan .... daz ich niht schoeners han gesehen
. . . . uf sinem houbet .... eine guldine kr6ne .... bewahsen sch6ne
THE KNIGHT OF THE LION. 699
The beast led the hero to " ung des plus belz arbres que nul vist oncques
mais." [The well-known Otherworld Landscape (6)]. Here it trans-
formed itself into a man clad in white, who explained that he was the soul
of the slain king Beauvoisin, who had taken the form of the beast. He
told him about the traitorous Marshal, and gave him directions for the
way. The hero had to slay a serpent, from the poison of which he fell
into a swoon. He was rescued by the ' ' Chevalier Amoureux du Chastel
Saulvage" (71. 33), who entertained him for the night, and gave him
directions (cf. 4) about the enchanted Chasteaux Perilleux. He pursued
" une chaucie qui estoit moult estroite et serre d' arbres et d'espines" * and
at length made his way into the Chasteaux Perilleux by crawling over a
narrow, quick vibrating bridge that spanned a terrible river, " qui ne
sembloit autre chose fors que ung enfer" (73. 10).1 He passed a revolv-
ing razor-edged wheel that barred the entrance, eluded two armed " villans "
(73. 21) on guard, and approached the Marshal. The Marshal did not
salute the hero but defied him and attacked him the instant he caught sight
of him [just as Esclados behaved toward Iwain], The Marshal was "moult
bien arm6 d'unes armes toutes vermeilles" (74. 26 ).3 When the Marshal
was slain by the hero, the damsels of the castle made great joy, and
embraced the hero, saying : " Bonne aventure ait le meilleur chevalier du
monde qui nous a en ceste nuit delivrees du pire seigneur et du plus maul-
vais qui oncques fust ! " (75. 26-8. )
Analogies between this story and the Ivain, especially the
second part of the Ivain, are evidently numerous. The
distressed lady besieged by the Marshal reminds us of Lunete,
whom Iwain defended against the Seneschal (28). The
guiding beast is a very curious animal, but it appears to be
a modification of some figure like Cuchulinn's carrying lion.4
The story has evidently been modified in a Christian sense.
The beast is the soul of the king and at the marvellous tree
is a scene, omitted in the above summary, which clearly
pictures Purgatory. Since the beast, however, in the origi-
mit zwein swarzen hornen .... in sfnem munde die hitze .... von stnem
houbet .... geschaffen als ein liebart." (To the fiery breath of this guid-
ing beast compare the breath of the dog of the guiding shepherd in
KuLhwch and Olwen, page 683, note 1, above).
1 Cf. the path in Ivain (6), in Tochmarc Emerc, and in La MuLe sans Frein.
'Cf. 10. *Cf. "Esclados the Red" (9).
4 In Wigdhis it is " geschaflen als ein liebart"
700 AETHUB C. L. BROWN.
nal mdrchen must have been somebody in disguise,1 its
explanation as the ghost of a dead man would, for a monkish
redactor, not have been difficult. The Marshal, who has
usurped the place of the dead king in the enchanted castle,
is a striking parallel to the wicked seneschal (28) whom
Iwain had to fight. It is difficult to doubt that the original
romance, of which Papegau and Wigdlois are representatives,
must have been founded on a tale in which a beast helped a
hero to penetrate into the Other World.
VI.
If the contention of the preceding chapters is sound, and
the Ivain is drawn almost entire from what must have been
essentially a folk-tale, among recently collected folk-tales,
especially among those found on Celtic territory, parallels to
the separate incidents of the second half of the Ivain ought
to exist.2 To study this matter conveniently it is necessary
to summarize the three most important separate adventures
of the second part of the romance :
1 Page 683, note 2, above.
2 Some reviews of Iwain A Study, have objected to my use of "modern "
folk-tales. In that study I endeavored to prove, in duplicate, that the
Ivain is based on an Otherworld story. First, by using only parallels
the antiquity of which is attested by LU and LL. Then by using recently
collected Celtic tales. Since the evidence of the two sorts of material agrees,
the second is a valuable confirmation of the first. LU and LL are pre-
served to us almost by accident. Let us suppose that the Danes had made
another inroad and destroyed these precious MSS., Ivain would still be based
on Celtic Otherworld Story, but it would be impossible to prove it, except
by the use of tales transcribed later than the time of Chretien. The value
of the ' ' modern ' ' folk-tale is thus evident. A chapter on analogies between
the second part of the Ivain and recently collected folk-tales seems to me
'indispensable, though I am willing to let the argument rest for those who
desire it on the Tochmarc Emere, supported by Ktdhwch and Olwen and La
Mule sans Frein.
THE KNIGHT OP THE LION. 701
(27) I wain secured entertainment for the night at a castle where he was !
well received, but the people did not at first wish to admit the lion. They
were afraid lest it would do them harm. Iwain, however, insisted on bringing,
the lion in. The people of the castle were in great sorrow because Harpin
of the Mountain, a giant, was coming in the morning to carry off the
daughter of the lord of the castle unless a champion could be found to
defend her. Iwain volunteered and was substantially aided in the conflict by
his faithful lion. The giant, stupidly it would seem, made no objection
to fighting the two at once, and was pulled down and slain. [The Welsh
Lady of the Fountain seems here again to be more primitive. Accord-
ing to it, the giant objected to the unequal combat, and Owain took the
lion back to the castle and shut the gate upon it. But when the lion
heard that Owain was hard pressed, it made its way to the top of the
castle, and sprang down from the walls. The incident ends as in Chretien's
account. ]
(28) Iwain was obliged to fight three at once, the wicked seneschal and
his two brothers. The lion looked so fierce that the three refused to join
battle till Iwain had calmed his lion, and sent it to the rear. The faith-
ful animal returned when it saw its master hard beset, and together man
and helpful lion overthrew their three foes. [In the Welsh two pages are
the aggressors. To oblige them Owain put his lion into a prison and
blocked the door with stones. But when it was going hard with Owain,
the lion burst through the wall, rushed upon the two men and instantly
slew them.]
(29) At the Castle of HI Adventure, Iwain had to fight two goblins or
demons. The goblins would not fight till Iwain had shut his lion up in a
chamber. But at the critical moment the lion dug its way out under the
door-sill of its prison and rescued its master. The goblins were slain.
Iwain was offered in reward the daughter of the lord of the castle, but he
refused and journeyed on. [In the Welsh this adventure is given as an
appendix, and is not woven into the main story at all. Owain is described
in the Welsh as fighting alone, though the episode is introduced by a
sentence in which we are assured that the lion did not leave Owain till he
had won this combat. Here seems to be an evidence of good faith on the
part of the Welsh author. Artistically he must have felt that the comrade-
ship of the lion should be perpetual, but he is content to give the adventure
as he knew it, only prefixing a statement that the lion did not really leave
Owain.] Chretien appears to have transferred to 29 features that belonged
to 27, with the effect of a rather wearisome insistence on the lion.
A Journey of Wonders by which a hero penetrates to the
Other World is of course a common feature in folk-tales.
An unusually symmetrical tale containing this feature, and
702 ARTHUR C. L. BROWN.
one that has not before been studied, is called : " The Old
Hag of the Forest." It was collected recently in Ireland,
and does not admit of being proved ancient : l
Once on a time, when enchantments were as plentiful as blackthorn
bushes, a king had three sons to each of whom he gave a hound that could
catch anything, a hawk that could bring down anything, and a filly that
could overtake anything. The eldest of the sons set out to seek his
fortunes. He mounted the filly, with the hawk on his shoulder and the
hound at his heels,2 and departed. When the eldest brother had travelled
twice as far as you could tell me of, he came to a great castle. He saw a
wee small house near-by, and found only one old woman in it. "Can I
have lodging for myself, my hawk, hound and filly?" " Well for yourself
you can, but I don't like them animals, but sure you can house them out-
side." On the morrow he learned that the daughter of the lord of the
castle was to be carried off by a giant unless there should be a hero to fight
as her champion. He slew the giant, pursued a hare,3 got lost at night,
and came to a wee small house in a hollow. It was the dwelling of the
Old Hag of the Forest who, it turns out later, was the mother of the giant
he has slain. The Old Hag said, "I'm afeerd of them wild animals of
yours." She gave the hero three hairs from her head and persuaded him
to bind his animals with them. She became terrible in size and fury, and
fought with the hero. Almost overcome, he called successively for help to
his three animals. They replied one after another that the hairs were
binding them so fast as almost to cut into them. The Hag then overcame
the hero, and turned him and his three animals to stone.
The second brother went through the same adventures, and met the
same fate.
The younger brother was more wary. When given the Hag's hairs he
threw them away, and bound his animals with something else. When hard
pressed in battle with the Hag, he called to his animals. They broke loose.
The Hound caught the Hag by the heel. The Filly kicked her. The
Hawk picked out her eyes. The hero forced the Hag to restore his brothers
and their animals to life, and then he slew her. He married the king's
daughter whom he had rescued from the giant-offspring of the Hag. The
tale ends happily.
The unwillingness of the hostess in this Irish tale to
admit the hero's animals is exactly like the unwillingness of
1 Summarized from Seumas MacManus, In Chimney Corners, N. Y. ( 1899),
pp. 127-46.
2 Hawk, hound, and horse were the typical companions of an ancient
hunter.
8 1 abbreviate very much at this point. The hare is the Hag in disguise.
THE KNIGHT OP THE LION. 703
I wain's entertainers. As in the Ivain (27), the hero has to
fight a giant in the morning in order to rescue the daughter
of the lord of the castle. The tying of the helpful animals
at the request of the Old Hag is like Owain's shutting up
his lion in the castle, whence it escaped over the battlements
(27, in the Welsh), and like his putting the lion in a prison
blocked up with stones, whence it broke through the wall
(28, in the Welsh). A close parallel to this is in 29, in the
Ivain, where the lion is put into a chamber and digs out
under the sill. In all of these incidents, it is important to
notice that the helpful beasts break loose at precisely the
critical moment, and that without their aid the hero would
be slain.
If the conclusions of the preceding chapters are sound,
Owain in ancient Welsh tradition must have been credited
with a helpful lion. In this recently collected folk-tale, we
find a hero engaged in an enterprise similar to Owain's, and
assisted by a hound, a horse, and a hawk, quite as Owain
was by his lion. It is worth noticing that ancient Welsh
tradition credits Owain with helpful ravens. These ravens
are mentioned at the end of the Lady of the Fountain,1
and play a chief part in the ancient tale called the Dream
of Rhonobwy.2 Perhaps in very early story Owain had a
helpful horse, dog, and hawk (which admits of confusion
with a raven), the three animals that regularly accompanied
an ancient hunter.3 Some indication that the helpful lion in
1Loth, Les Mob., n, 42. Owain is mentioned in connection with ravens
in the Gododin poems in the Bk. of Aneurin, Skene, Four Books, I, 374.
2 Loth, Les Mob., I, 303 ff. Cf. Loth's note, p. 308.
3 Cf. Conte du Mantel (a twelfth century text ), ed. Wulff, Romania, xiv,
358-380: "Yvain . . . . qui tant ama chiens et oiseaus," w. 496-99.
Irish tales very often assign three animals of this sort to their hero. Cf.
"The King of the Black Desert," Hyde, An Sgealuidhe Gaedhealach, pp.
143 ff., with its refrain eight times repeated : "His dog at his heels, his falcon
on his wrist, riding on his good black horse." It is to be noted that the
704 ABTHUR C. L. BKOWN.
the Ivain was originally a dog has been noted.1 Anyhow
the interchange of helpful lion and helpful dog is an easy
one. Campbell prints a variant of the "Old Hag of the
Forest" obtained in Skye, in which the helpful beasts are a
lion, a wolf and a falcon,2 and another in which a lion, a dove,
and a rat 3 help the hero slay his marvellous foe.
The folk-tale, of which "The Old Hag" is a representa-
tive, has analogues in many lands,4 and is doubtless very
ravens, according to Welsh tradition, won Owain's victories for him :
"Partout oft il allait avec eux [the ravens], il e"tait vainqueur," Loth, Les
Mob., n, 42. It is precisely thus with the lion in the Ivain. Wherever
Iwain goes with the lion he conquers. Mabon, Twain' s doublet, was a mar-
vellous hunter, p. 695 above.
1 See p. 697, note 2.
2 Pop. Tales of the West Highlands, i, 96 ff.
3 1, 102 ff. Of. Curtin, Hero Tales of Ireland, pp. 373-406, where the hero
slays "Hung up Naked," a supernatural foe, by the aid of a Hound, a
Hawk and an Otter.
*" Knight Eose" in Jones and Kropf, Folk-Tales of the Magyars, pp.
54-58, is the closest of these analogues. Knight Eose slew three giants.
He then met their dam, a witch who had killed his two older brothers. He
released his brother's dogs. The witch was afraid of the dogs, and by
their aid he slew her. He then restored his brothers to life. This story
is manifestly an imperfect distortion of the theme better represented by
"The Old Hag" (O. H.). (1) In it the [enchanted] hounds are not
explained but turn up casually, while in O. H. to each of three sons the
king gave, at the outset, a filly that could overtake anything, a hound that
could, etc. (2) It lacks, though it implies, the preliminary adventures of
the two older brothers. (3) Knight Eose pursues a hare and cooks it
before a fire, but it is not explained, as in O. H., that the hare is the Hag,
the dam of the giants, who took this shape to lure away the slayer of her
sons. (4) Knight Eose actually sees the dogs of his brothers. O. H.
much better has the dogs turned to stone and invisible.
Other analogues, for the most part even less symmetrically preserved
than "Knight Eose," are: " Marya-Morevna," Curtin, Myths and Folk
Tales of the Russians, pp. 203-17. The hero Ivan is helped by a raven,
eagle, falcon, and by a horse that kicks the supernatural foe Koshchel
the Deathless : " Ivan, the Bird and the Wolf," Curtin, op. cit., pp. 20 ff.
A wolf eats Ivan's steed but himself carries Ivan better than any steed ; cf.
pp. 106 ff., 165 ff. : "The Three Brothers," Denton, Serbian Folk-lore, pp.
256-294 : "How the Eaja's son won the Princess Labam," Stokes (Maive
THE KNIGHT OF THE LION. 705
old. It is not absurd to believe that it is older than the
time of Chre'tien, and was known then, as now, in Celtic
legend.1 There is a good chance that the resemblances noted
between this tale and the Ivain are not accidental, but are
due to the use by Chre'tien of a Celtic mdrchen. Nobody
would maintain that the folk-tales are founded on the inci-
dents in the Ivain. In view of the other evidence found in
preceding chapters, a conclusion that the folk-tales give a
glimpse at some archaic themes that appeared in Chretien's
original, may perhaps be regarded as highly probable. The
inference made at the beginning of this chapter is anyhow
correct. In folk-tales describing the Otherworld journey,
close parallels to incidents in the latter part of the Ivain
appear.
VII.
Whoever admits, as most scholars now seem incjjned to
do, that any considerable part of the Ivain was based on a
folk-tale, should, as a result of this discussion, regard it as
almost certain that the entire romance was derived from
some one particular tale.
Of course this original tale was not a Celtic fairy mistress
story in an uncontaminated form. It had borrowed traits
from the theme of a giant that holds a lady captive, and
S. H. ), Indian Fairy Tales, pp. 153-163, where a tiger helps the hero slay
two demons [W. Stokes in a note on p. 287 suggests an analogy to "Owain's
fight with the giant in the Lady of the Fountain"] : "Ivan Kupiskas
S0n," Friis, Lappiske Eventyr og Folkesagn, pp. 170 S., a helpful dog, bear
and wolf dig out under two clashing mountains to aid the hero: "The
Tower of 111 Luck," Pedroso, Portuguese Folk- Tales, pp. 453., helpful
horse and lion; also "The Slices of Fish," op. tit., pp. 100 ff., helpful
horse and lion : cf. "La Cerva Fatata," II Pentamerone (ninth tale of the
first day) .
1 Helpful animals have been pointed out in LTJ and LL. See Iwain A
Study, p. 131, note 2 : Cuchulinn's steed Grey of Macha, and Conall's
horse Dewy Ked, fought along with their masters.
3
706 AETHUB C. L. BEOWN.
perhaps also from some other themes. Doubtless it con-
tained features which had passed into Celtic from what has
been called "the common stock of European folk-lore."
That in no way affects the conclusions of the present investi-
gation, which does not concern itself with ultimate origins,
but only with the relatively immediate source used by
Chretien. That these features came to Chretien, interwoven
with what was essentially a Celtic tale, is all that the argu-
ment requires. The present discussion should make stronger
than ever the belief of those who hold that almost every
incident in Chretien's Ivain was suggested by an ancient
Celtic tale, dealing with the familiar theme of a journey to
win a fairy mistress in the Other World. The special point
which the present discussion, it is thought, renders almost
certain, is, that a helpful lion must have been an integral
part of the original used by Chretien.
AETHUE C. L. BEOWN.
XXI.— THE SCANSION OF PROSE RHYTHM.
Listening to an orator delivering a speech or to a reader
reciting good prose, we may notice, running through the
speaker's utterances, a characteristic and persistent tune.
The voice rises and falls, increases and diminishes, moves
now slowly, now rapidly, throws emphasis upon one phrase
and takes it away from another, not waywardly and errati-
cally but in accordance with some underlying pattern or
scheme of movement. It is this tune or pattern, in some
of its simpler and more obvious features, that I mean to
consider in this paper. The pattern is the rhythm of prose,
and to chart it and discover its law is to effect for prose
what metrical scansion does for verse.
The tune of prose, I need hardly say, is highly complex
and elusive. To attempt to analyze it is to court disaster.
So many writers, indeed, have called the task impossible
that anyone who now ventures to take it up owes to his
fellow investigators either an apology or a justification. I
shall attempt the latter.
What is, I suppose, the prevailing opinion about the
tune of prose, is well expressed in the following passage
from a recent review : " The proper beauty and essence of
prose rhythm in all the great stylists is its freedom, its
variety, its complexity, its avoidance of the strict forms
of metre and repetition of metre ; its effects, in short, are
secured by a violation of metrical regularity, by an elaborate
combination of movement and of numbers which evade
scientific analysis." (Nation, vol. LXXIV, p. 211.) This
but echoes the dictum of a distinguished writer : " Each
phrase of each sentence," says Robert Louis Stevenson in
his essay On Some Technical Elements of Style in Literature,
707
708 FRED NEWTON SCOTT.
" like an air or a recitative in music, should be so artfully
compounded out of long and short, out of accented and
unaccented, as to gratify the sensual ear. And of this the
ear is the sole judge. It is impossible to lay down laws.
Even in our accentual and rythmic language no analysis can
find the secret of the beauty of a verse ; how much less then
of those phrases, such as prose is built of, which obey no
law but to be lawless and yet to please."
To obscurantist opinions and arguments such as these we
may reply as follows : No matter how free or how seemingly
irregular the rhythm of good prose may be, one fact remains, —
it was produced by literary artists. Had prose literature been
written by the winds or the wild sea waves, there might still
be a chance of discovering the law of its rhythm, for even
natural phenomena have a certain periodicity. But since it
was produced not by wayward natural forces but by human
beings with a fine sense for symmetry and order, the case is
much more hopeful. We may reason thus : Whatever pro-
ceeds from the mind of an artist, at least in his happier
moods, may be presumed to be written secundum artem. If
there is art in it there is in it also a principle of order. This
principle of order the inquirer may hope eventually to come
at, no matter how cunningly it may have been concealed.
The search for the principle may be long and laborious, it
may in particular cases be barren of results ; but it is not in
the nature of things useless or foredoomed to failure.
In any attempt to discover the regulative principle of
prose rhythm, it is necessary first to distinguish sharply
between prose and poetry. As I have elsewhere tried to
demonstrate, these two great literary types, as regards both
their origin and their character, are essentially disparate.1
With respect to their origin we may note that they have
arisen from markedly different situations in primitive society.
1 Publications of the Modem Language Association, xix, 2.
THE SCANSION OP PROSE RHYTHM. 709
Prose has sprung, I hold, from a situation in which primi-
tive man used speech mainly for communication — a situation,
that is, in which his chief interest in his words was in their
effect upon his fellow-men. Prose is thus the lineal de-
scendant of conversation, signals, warning cries, calls for
help, and summonings to the feast or the fray. If prose was
originally conveyance, poetry, on the other hand, has sprung
from a state of things in which speech was used mainly for
expression, that is, just to give vent to powerful feelings.
Poetry, therefore, has its origin in communal dance and
song, and perhaps also in the cries accompanying concerted
labor. To quote my own formula, prose is expression for
communication's sake, poetry is communication for expres-
sion's sake.
Out of these two distinct situations — the expressive and
the communicative situation, if I may call them so— and
out of the mental attitudes which naturally result from them,
have arisen two distinct types of rhythm.
I will consider first, briefly, the rhythm of expression.
This, as I have said, is associated in its origin mainly with
the communal dance, where it is exhibited both in words
and in bodily movements. Its characteristic form can
perhaps best be noted in the stamping of feet, clapping of
hands, nodding of the head, swaying of the body, etc., which
accompany all modes of primitive dance and song. The
dances of the Philippine natives at the St. Louis Exposition
displayed this kind of rhythm reduced to its lowest terms.
In the Igorrote village I observed a dance in which eight or
ten savages took part. For music one of them beat a gong,
others clicked and jangled pieces of metal together, and all
chanted in unison a monotonous, wailing song; while a
drummer, who sat apart from the dancers, beat continuously
with his fingers upon a long horn-shaped drum. To these
discordant sounds the dancers moved slowly in a circle, each
710 FEED NEWTON SCOTT.
one revolving at the same time upon his own axis. As the
natives went round they lifted and dropped their feet in a
kind of solemn trot in exact time to the music. The man
with the gong, as often as he came opposite the drummer,
lifted his instrument on high and struck it a resounding
blow. He then subsided into the measure of the jog-trot.
Such was the dance. Represented diagrammatically the
progress of the dancers and the pattern of the rhythm might
take a form such as this :
MAAAAO
./WVW\O
the up-and-down lines representing the movements of the
dancers' feet, the circle representing the stroke of the gong
which marked the completion of the round. If the reader
have a lively imagination he may see in these movements
some resemblance to waves of light or of sound.
Assuming that the illustration is typical, we may infer
that what constitutes the characteristic pattern of the expres-
sional rhythm is the recurrence of brief units of sound or
motion at regular intervals, the recurring units being so
grouped as to show within small compass a measured pro-
gression. I will apply to this peculiar movement the term
nutation — that is, a nodding.1
1 The word was suggested to me, not by Horace's bonus dormitat Homerus,
but by the lines in Coleridge's Ancient Manner :
" Nodding their heads before her goes
The merry minstrelsy."
Although the term is not as felicitous as I could wish, it will at any rate
suggest the distinctive pattern of the rhythm.
THE SCANSION OF PROSE RHYTHM. 711
If now we turn to the rhythm of communication we shall
find a very different state of affairs. The exact nature of
the difference will appear if we contrast two familiar experi-
ences : one expressive, the other communicative. All know
from recollections of childhood what it is to dance for joy,
and some, in such moments of ecstacy, have, perhaps, fallen
into poetry. These are the proper rhythms of expression.
But now set in contrast to these the actions and speech
appropriate to communication. Let the reader imagine a
situation where the need of communication is urgent. A
friend, let us say, is standing on the railroad track in front
of a swiftly approaching train. In such an emergency one
would not motion in the measured time of an orchestra
conductor waving his baton, nor speak in iambic pentameter.
Communicative utterance would trace a different pattern.
The arms of the observer would impulsively shoot up in the
air and come down again. The voice would perform a
similar evolution. If one shouted, for example, "Get off
the track," the voice would rise in pitch in a crescendo glide
through the words "Get off," then descend in the words
"the track." Such a movement might be represented
graphically as follows :
Other examples of the communicative pattern may be
found in the traditional calls to animals. The call " Co-o-o-
712 FJRED NEWTON SCOTT.
boss!" to cows and "Whoo-ee!" to pigs show the ascending
and descending glide. Recently I heard under the window
of my office a small boy trying to hold communication with
his dog. The call was " Here, Vic ! Here, Vic ! " with a
long upward glide on "Here," and an abrupt downward
glide on « Vic ! "
These few examples will perhaps illustrate sufficiently the
main characteristics of the communicative rhythm. It is a
rushing, surging, gliding movement, which starting at some
minimum of force, rapidity, pitch, or suspense, rises to a
climax in one or all of these particulars and then falls away
again. I shall apply to this type of rhythm the term motation.
If the nutative pattern is compared to the undulations of
sound-waves, the motative pattern may suggest a variety
of analogues, none of them, I fear, very satisfactory. It
may be compared to an ocean wave breaking upon the beach,
running high up on the sand, and then sucking back again.
Or it may be likened to the sound of rain on the roof made
by the passing of a thunder shower, — first a few big drops,
then more of them, then a rapid downfall, then the same
phenomena in reverse order. Or a sudden gust of wind
may give the same effect. The dead ivy leaves tap on
the window-pane first timidly, then hurriedly, then in a
desperate fright, then in degrees of diminishing excitement.
The passing of a charge of cavalry might affect the ear
in the same way.
Regarding the origin of this curious movement I am not
prepared to speak with positiveness, but it may be explained
physiologically by the fact that every innervation begins
with a minimum of force, increases slowly or rapidly to
a maximum, and then diminishes to the end as the nervous
supply is exhausted.1
1Good illustrations are the long whistle of surprise and spontaneous
cheering at foot-ball games. The researches of Martens ( Vber das Verhalten
THE SCANSION OP PROSE RHYTHM. 713
The two fundamental rhythms have now been described.
It is upon them as upon a frame-work or skeleton that the
elaborate structures of our modern prose and poetry have
been erected. Poetry is mainly the elaboration of a simple
nutative pattern. Prose is mainly the elaboration of a
simple motative pattern.
von Vokalen, und Diphthongen in gesprochenen Worten, Zeitschrift f. Bwlogie,
vol. xxv, p. 295) and others show that isolated words and vowels are
frequently pronounced in this way, that is, with circumflex glide. But all
of the characteristics of the phenomenon cannot be accounted for by this
hypothesis. As I suggested in a preceding paper, it seems likely that the
speaker's expectation of a reply, and the hearer's response, have played
some part in the shaping of the rhythm. If we might conceive of the
earliest form of speech, or the precursor of speech, as a long ululation
naturally rising in pitch and force with the rising emotion of the speaker
(or ululator), — a view for which, in my opinion, much is to be said, — the
earliest articulation of such an undifferentiated stream of utterance might
well be caused by the response of a fellow-being. The response would
check the ululation and make a significant break in it. After the break
the cry would be expressive of a different mood, and with the relaxation
of tension would naturally descend in pitch or force to the close.
The upward movement, if this hypothesis have any warrant, would then
be connected with a state of tension, expectation and suspense, the down-
ward movement with relaxation, discharge of nervous tension, completion
of the impulse which led to the call, and so forth.
I am confirmed in this hypothesis by some phenomena of modern speech.
Consider, for example, the case of a nurse calling to a child. The nurse
lifts her voice in a shrill crescendo that mounts steadily in pitch through
perhaps an octave. If now she suddenly discovers that the child is at her
elbow, she breaks off abruptly and in some phrase such as "Oh,^ there you
are," descends to the tonic note.
Illiterate conversation is usually of this type. The speaker begins the
sentence excitedly, his voice mounting in pitch and increasing in rapidity
with his eagerness to convey his idea. But midway in his progress if he
sees that his hearers know what he is driving at and guess what is coming
next, his speech trails away into an incoherent muttering. Very likely he
closes the sentence with such a phrase as " You know what I mean," glad
to escape the labor of rounding his period.
A similar phenomenon, as Mr. E. E. Hale has noted in his My Double
and How He Undid Me, may be observed in the conversation of cultivated
persons at a crowded reception.
type.
714 FRED NEWTON SCOTT.
We have next to consider the scansion of the motative
The question naturally arises at this point, What is meant
by scansion ? As it is used with reference to verse (and I
am not aware that anyone hitherto has applied it seriously
to prose), we may distinguish between a larger and a more
restricted sense of the term. In its broadest sense it may
be applied to any scheme of graphic outlines, symbols, etc.,
intended to exhibit the phenomena of metre.1 But I shall
not use the term in this broad sense. My present interest
is in the special form known as ' routine scansion.' In this
kind of scansion the sense of the line is disregarded. The
words are so read as to exaggerate the difference between
the strong and the weak stresses, and the syllables are
separated in a seemingly unnatural manner in order to make
quite obvious the divisions of the feet.
Opinions differ regarding the value and normality of this
kind of scansion. Sievers speaks of it as a hybrid thing ;
Meumann, as something "counter to the nature of poetic
material." Mr. Liddell (An Introduction to the Study of
Poetry, p. 176) printing a line from one of Shakespeare's
sonnets as it would be read in routine scansion, says that
" no one would naturally utter these English words with the
emphasis we have indicated." "We have been accustomed,"
says Robert Louis Stevenson, " to describe the heroic line as
five iambic feet, and to be filled with pain and confusion,
whenever, as by the conscientious school-boy, we have heard
our own description put in practice.
"All night7 | the dread7 | less an7 | gel un7 | pursued7
goes the school-boy ; but though we close our ears, we cling
to our definition, in spite of its proved and naked insuffi-
1 Some highly elaborate systems of symbolism, such as that of A. J. Ellis,
have been devised for this purpose.
THE SCANSION OF PROSE RHYTHM. 715
ciency." l According to A. J. Ellis (English Pronunciation2'),
" the routine scansion with the accent on alternate syllables
is known only to grammarians, having never been practiced
by poets." On the other hand, Mr. J. B. Mayor in his
Chapters on English Metre, p. 6, spiritedly defends the prac-
tice, both on educational and on scientific grounds. " What
I would affirm," he says, "is that it is impossible for the
routine scansion to die out as long as there are children and
common people, and poetry which commends itself to them.
And I would also venture to say that it ought not to die out
as long as there are scientific men who will endeavor to
bring clearness and precision into our notions about poetry
as about other things. Routine scansion is the natural form
of poetry to a child, as natural to it as the love of sweet
things or bright colors : it is only through the routine
scansion that its ear can be educated to appreciate in time
a more varied and complex rhythm. No one who knows
children can doubt this. If example is wanted, it may be
found in Ruskin's Praeterita, p. 55, where the author speaks
of a prolonged struggle between his childish self and his
mother ' concerning the accent of the of in the lines :
" Shall any following spring revive
The ashes of the urn?"
I insisting partly in childish obstinacy, and partly in true
instinct for rhythm (being wholly careless on the subject
both of urns and their contents) on reciting it with an
accented of. It was not till after three weeks' labor that
my mother got the accent lightened on the of and laid on the
ashes, to her mind.7 But any parent may test it for himself
in children who have a taste for poetry.3 Whatever effort
1 On Style in Literature, Contemporary Review, vol. 47, p. 554.
8 Part in, p. 929.
3 The test may profitably be applied also to adults, some of the most
eminent poets being like children in this respect, as the following passages
716 FRED NEWTON SCOTT.
may be made to teach them to observe the true verbal
accents and the stops, and attend to the meaning and logic
of the line, they will insist on singing it to a chant of their
own, disregarding everything but the metrical accent, and
are made quite unhappy if compelled to say or read it like
prose. And, after all, is this not the right sense of the
fjiijviv aeiSe, and ' arma cano ' ? is it not the fact that the
earliest recitation of poetry was really what we should con-
sider a childish sing-song? This becomes still more probable
when we remember that music and dancing were frequent
accompaniments of the earliest kinds of poetry, the effect
of which would undoubtedly be to emphasize and regulate
the beats or accents of the line ; just as in church-singing
now the verbal accent is ignored, if it is opposed to the
general rhythmical character of the verse." x
Reserving opinion regarding the educational value of
routine scansion, I find this argument entirely to my liking,
especially that part of it in which Professor Mayor suggests
that the pleasure which children feel is due to the revival
of the simple rhythms of the dance and song. This I take
to be the true explanation both of the method of reading
and of the accompanying motions. In routine scansion we
will show : " He [Mr. C. K. Paul] confirmed on Tennyson's own authority,
the well-known story of his having, on that celebrated voyage to Copen-
hagen with Sir Donald Currie, unconsciously beat time to one of his own
poems, which he was mouthing forth, upon the shoulder of the Empress
of all the Kussias ! " (Sir Mountstuart Grant Duff, Notes from a Diary.)
" While Poe was in Richmond some of his friends got up a reading for his
benefit, and I heard him read the ' Haven ' and some other poems before a
small audience in one of the parlors of the Exchange Hotel. In spite of
my admiration of Poe I was not an uncritical listener, and I have retained
the impression that he did not read very well. His voice was pleasant
enough, but he emphasized the rhythm unduly — a failing common, I be-
lieve, to poets endowed with a keen sense of the music of their own verse."
(B. L. Gildersleeve, in J. A. Harrison's .4 Group of Poets and their Haunts.)
1 Cf. on this subject the article A Phonetic Theory of English Prosody by
Jas. Lecky, in Proceedings of the English Philological Society, Dec. 19, 1884.
THE SCANSION OF PROSE EHYTHM. 717
turn savages for the time being. As we chant the verses
and feel the old crude rhythms surge through us, we nod the
head, tap the foot, and beat time with the hand quite in
the fashion of our primitive ancestors.
If then the routine scansion of verse reveals the nutative
pattern, that is, the characteristic beat of the syllables of
the foot and the grouping of the feet in the line, the routine
scansion of prose should in like manner reveal a pattern
of motation. The task of identifying the motative rhythm
is made difficult, however, by the fact that motation works
with somewhat different elements. In verse, at least in
Germanic verse, the principal element of the metre is stress
or energy. The other elements — pause, pitch, quality,
number, quantity, and rate of movement — are subsidiary.
But in the shaping of the motative rhythm the most im-
portant element of speech appears to be not stress but pitch.1
Next in the order of their importance come pause, rate of
movement, stress, quality, number, and quantity.
That stress is fundamental for verse rhythm and pitch for
prose rhythm may be shown by a simple experiment. Read
a specimen of verse by means of the vowels only, observing
the stress and the pauses, but eliminating all of the other
elements. Listening to such a recital one will have no
hesitation in deciding that the original was in metre. And
1 A different opinion is implied in the italicised words of the following
(from A. J. Ellis' s article Accent and Emphasis in Transactions of the Philo-
logical Society, 1873-74, p. 132): " 'Even speaking,' which is cultivated by
modern actors, consists in delivering verse without any variety of pitch due
to its construction. This is reducing the intonation of verse to the intonation
of prose, and leaving the distinction solely to their individual fixed and free
periodicities of force." But to my ear ' even speaking ' damages prose far
more than it damages poetry. Examples of prose pronounced without
change of pitch may be found in calls for trains in large railway stations,
in the rapid reading of proof to a copy-holder in newspaper offices, and in
the cicada-like drone of legislative reading-clerks.
718 FRED NEWTON SCOTT.
if the listener is at a little distance he will say that you are
reciting poetry in a mumbling sing-song. Now read a piece
of prose in the same way. The rhythm will elude the most
careful ear. The sounds may be compared to the clicking
of a telegraph instrument in the ear of one who does not
understand the Morse alphabet. But read the same passage
with attention to the natural rise and fall of pitch, and the
rhythm of prose is at once suggested.
Although such crude tests are inconclusive, it may fairly
be inferred that the prose foot or organic unit of prose
rhythm consists of an upward followed by a downward
glide.1 To this movement I shall give the name of motative
1 This conception is not new, as the following passages will show ; but it
has been applied heretofore, I believe, almost exclusively to the periodic
sentence.
' 'As a wild beast gathers itself together for the attack, so should discourse
gather itself together as in a coil in order to increase its vigor." (Deme-
trius, On Style, § 8. Trans, by Ehys Roberts. )
" Ogni Clausula come ha principio casi ha mezzo e fine : nel principio si
va movendo, e ascende : nel mezzo quasi stanca dalla fatica, stando in pie
si pasa alquanto ; pai discende, e vola al fine per acquetarsi." — Speroni,
Dialogo ddla Rhetorica (Aldus, 1643), fol. 149.
"One rise in every sentence, one gentle descent, that is the law for
French composition. — Whereas now amongst us English, not only is the
too general tendency of our sentences toward hyperbolical length, but it
will be found continually that, instead of one rise and one corresponding
fall — one arm and one thesis — there are many. Flux and reflux, swell and
cadence, that is the movement for a sentence ; but our modern sentences
agitate us by rolling fires after the fashion of those internal earthquakes
that, not content with one throe, run along spasmodically in a long suc-
cession of intermitting convulsions." (DeQuincey, Essay on Style, para-
graph 22.)
"To this period of individualism an end was put by Dryden, whose
example in codifying and reforming was followed for nearly a century.
During this period ... a general principle was established that the cadence
as well as the sense of a sentence should rise gradually toward the middle,
should if necessary continue then on a level for a brief period, and should
then descend in a gradation corresponding to its accent." (Saintsbury,
Specimens of English Prose Style, p. xxxvi.)
"The true business of the literary artist is to plait or weave his mean-
THE SCANSION OF PROSE RHYTHM. 719
arc. It will be assumed as a working hypothesis that all
prose is made up of such arcs arranged in sequence, and that
the tune of prose is determined by their character and inter-
relation in somewhat the same way that a verse is determined
by the character and inter-relation of metrical feet.
It will be understood, of course, that the motative arc
does not represent the true voice-movements of appreciative
reading. Far from it. In actual speech nearly every sylla-
ble has a quite peculiar modulation, and the number of
glides is almost infinite.1 But just as the routine scansion
of verse, by disregarding the fine shades of the emotional
reading, reduces poetry to a simple, monotonous pattern of
strong and weak stresses, so a routine scansion of prose
reduces the successive sentences of a prose composition to a
crude diagram of rising and falling glides. It drops the
minor deviations out of sight in order to chart the general
trend.2 This relation of actual speech movements to routine
ing, involving it around itself ; so that each sentence, by successive phrases,
shall first come into a kind of knot, and then after a moment of suspended
meaning, solve and clear itself." (Stevenson, On Some Technical Elements
of Style in Literature. Works, vol. xxn, p. 247. ) The similarity of Steven-
son' s conception to that of Demetrius is worthy of notice.
JTo construct a simple apparatus for tracing speech-glides, stretch a
violin-string over a strip of board about twenty inches long, supporting the
string at each end by means of triangular bridges about one-fourth inch
high. Tune the string to E and mark on the board under it the intervals
of the musical scale in tones, half-tones, and quarter-tones. With such an
instrument, by sliding the left forefinger up and down the string, plucking
the latter meanwhile with the right, one may follow quite accurately the
most intricate movements of the voice, provided, of course, that one
possesses a sensitive ear. The movements of the left hand may be recorded
by any one of several devices used for this purpose in psychological labora-
tories.
2 There are writings, both in verse and in prose, which lend themselves
so readily to routine scansion that they can hardly be read naturally in any
other way. In verse Mother Goose, Tusser's Five Hundred Points of Good
Husbandry, and the New England Primer, in prose the works of Gibbon and
Samuel Johnson, furnish abundant examples. Of Johnson's Rambler,
Hazlitt ( On the Prose Style of Poets) writes as follows :
720
FRED NEWTON SCOTT.
scansion is shown in the figure below, the dotted line repre-
senting the voice, the black lines the scansion.
Read in this way prose bears some resemblance to the
ranting speech of a Fourth of July orator.
Assuming, then, that the motative arc is a diagrammatic
representation of a typical upward and downward movement
of the voice that occurs in all prose speech, we may next
proceed to inquire into its kinds and to exhibit some of its
sequences.
Two principal types of arc may be distinguished, one
differing from the other mainly in the location of the pause.
To the first type I shall apply the term suspensive. In
the suspensive type the voice, beginning on the natural
keynote, rises in a glide or series of glides to a certain
maximum. Here a pause occurs to which we may give
the name medial pause. The voice then begins again at
the altitude where it left off or slightly below (sometimes,
"There is a tune in it, a mechanical recurrence of the same rise and fall
in the clauses of his sentences, independent of any reference to the mean-
ing of the text, or progress or inflection of the sense. There is the alternate
roll of his cumbrous cargo of words : his periods complete their revolutions
at certain stated intervals, let the matter be longer or shorter, rough or
smooth, round or square, different or the same."
THE SCANSION OF PROSE RHYTHM. 721
though rarely, above), and descends in a glide or series of
glides to the tonic. Usually the upward glide is marked by
a crescendo of force and an increasing rate of movement,
the downward glide by a decrescendo and decreasing rate
of movement ; but these accompaniments are subject to
variation. I give a few simple examples, indicating the
medial pause by a vertical line :
When he narrated | the scene was before you. — (R. L.
Stevenson, Pastoral, p. 97.)
The consequences of this battle | were just of the same
importance as the revolution itself. — (Webster, Second Bunker
HUH Oration.")
The intercourse of society, — its trade, its religion, its
friendships, its quarrels, | is one wide, judicial investigation
of character. — (Emerson, Over-Soul.}
To take Macaulay out of literature and society and put
him in the House of Commons | is like taking the chief
physician out of London during a pestilence. — (Sydney
Smith, Memoir, 1 : 265.)
In the second type of arc there is no pause at the point
of maximum pitch. The voice glides up to the apex, then,
without a break, glides down again for a certain distance.
The medial pause comes in the descending segment of the
arc, occurring normally at an interval of a fourth (or a
minor fourth) below the maximum. Since the effect of this
interval is to give to the cadence a plaintive quality, I have
chosen for the second type of arc the name pathetic.1 The
1 This type seems to be hinted at in the following passages from Dionysius,
De Composilione Verborum: "In Thucydides there is a passage in the speech
delivered in the public assembly of the Plataeans which has a graceful
arrangement and is full of pathos. It runs fytetj re, <3 A.aKfSat^vioi, r) /jAvi)
ATT£S, dtStftev /xi) oi/ ptfiaioi ^re. But change the arrangement and dispose
the clauses in this manner : u/teij re, <5 AacceSat^mi, StSi/Jxv /j.^ oi> /3^3atot
1)re rj fi6m} iXvtt. Do the same grace and the same pathos still remain,
when the clauses are arranged in this way ? No one would assert it."
4
722 FRED NEWTON SCOTT.
following sentence will illustrate it ; the caret being used to
indicate the highest point of the arc :
"His passions on the contrary, were violent even toA
slaying j against all who leaned to whiggish principles." —
(Macaulay, Samuel Johnson.') The arc corresponding to this
sentence may be represented diagrammatically thus :
The first segment of the arc moves upward with steadily
increasing intensity and rapidity through the phrase " even
to ; " after which, in the word " slaying " it descends with
diminishing rapidity through an interval of a fourth. Then,
after a pause of appreciable length, the sentence descends
with diminishing speed to the close.
Other examples are as follows :
It was a treacherous Ainterval | of real summer.
He expresses what allAfeel | but all cannot say. — (Newman,
Lecture on Literature.}
Its secret alchemy turns to potable Agold | the poisonous
waters which flow from death through life. — (Shelley, Defence
of Poetry.)
From these two primary types1 by compounding them
and by varying their constituent elements, may be produced,
XA third type in which the medial pause is lacking altogether, should
perhaps be added, but I am not sure that it may not resolve itself ulti-
mately into one of the other types. If it exists, it occurs but rarely.
THE SCANSION OP PROSE RHYTHM. 723
I think, all of the more frequent rhythms of English prose.
I will consider first the compounds, and then a few of the
varieties.
The first type of compound arc, and the most common, is
that which begins with the pathetic form and closes with the
suspensive. Gliding up to the apex, the voice drops through
an interval of a fourth without pausing ; but instead of
descending further it rises again, pauses at the maximum,
and then descends to the tonic. Examples follow :
An infinite Ajoy | is lost to the world | by the want of
culture of this spiritual endowment. — (W. E. Channing.)
It is therefore a happy Acircumstance | for our frail species |
that it is a crime which no man can possibly commit. —
(Macaulay, Disabilities of the Jews.)
A second type of compound arc is formed by joining the
pathetic to the suspensive type :
The office of Paymaster General during an expensive war
was, in that age, | perhaps the most lucrative Asituation | in
the gift of the government. — (Macaulay, Earl of Chatham.)
Here the voice rises to the apex at " age," pauses, de-
scends through "perhaps the most," rises through "lucrative,"
descends a fourth through "situation," then pauses, and
finally descends through the concluding phrase.
The double suspensive and the double pathetic types also
occur.
Any one of these types is susceptible of many variations.
The most important are as follows :
1. The length of the segments may be varied at pleasure.
2. The number of phrasal sections in either segment may
vary.
3. Minor pauses may occur in either segment.
4. Correspondence of words, phrases, and pauses may
give a special character to the arc.
By means of these and other more complex variations a
large number of sub-types may be formed. These, however,
724 FEED NEWTON SCOTT.
I shall not attempt to treat at this time. Instead I will
pass to a brief consideration of certain rhythmical effects
produced by sequences of the primary types.
I shall not pretend that I have detected all of the pre-
vailing sequences. Indeed I have detected very few of
them. The possible number of combinations is so great and
writers of prose are so artful in their variations upon them,
that the investigation must needs progress slowly. But I
can point out some few sequences which occur over and over
again in all writers, and which whenever they occur give to
the prose a characteristic tune. I will chose for my illus-
trations very simple and obvious examples.
1. The suspensive type followed by the pathetic is one
of the most common. Good illustrations are seen in the
following passages :
"Trust | thyself. Every Aheart | vibrates to that iron
string." — (Emerson, Self-Reliance.)
"Though he slay me, | yet will I trust in him; but I
will maintain my ownAways | before him." — (Job, xiii, 15.)
An example of the same progression, but one in which
the segments of the arcs are more extended, is the following
from Bagehot's essay, Wordsworth, Tennyson and Browning :
"And we must remember that the task which Shakespeare
undertook | was the most difficult which any poet has ever
attempted, and that it is a task in which after a millionA
efforts, | every other poet has failed.
Another illustration may be found in the last two sentences
of the famous passage from Pitt's Speech on the Excise Bill :
" The poorest man may in his cottage | bid defiance to all
the force of the crown. It may be frail ; its roof may shake ;
the wind may blow through it; the storm may enter, — |
but the King of England cannot enter ; all hisAforces | dare
not cross the threshold of the ruined tenement : "
A long suspensive arc followed by a short pathetic arc is
characteristic of Newman :
THE SCANSION OF PROSE RHYTHM. 725
I do not claim for him, as such, any great depth of
thought, or breadth of view, or philosophy, or sagacity, or
knowledge of human nature, or experience of human life,
though these additional gifts he may have, and the more he
has of them the greater he is ; | but I ascribe to him, as his
characteristic gift, in a large sense the faculty of expression.
He is master of the two-foldALogos, | the thought and the
word, distinct, but inseparable from each other. — Newman,
Idea of a University.
In the following from Kobert Louis Stevenson's Prince
Otto, the sequence is used to imitate the sound of the wind :
The sound of the wind in the forest swelled and sank, |
and drew near them with a running rush,
and died awayAand away | in the distance into fainting
whispers.
Somewhat less common is the sequence of pathetic and
suspensive : 1
He uttered a deep, voiceless, impassionedAoutcry | that
she might not die young nor he die young ;
that the struggles and hardships of life, now seeming to
be ended, | might never begirt him or her so closely again. —
(Allen, Choir Invisible, Chap. III.)
1 Rhetoricians who delight in correcting the prose of distinguished writers,
sometimes display a singular obtuseness to the music of the rhythm. The
following is a case in point. The author of a book entitled Errors in English
Composition, selects for correction the following passage from an article by
Mr. John Morley in the Fortnightly Review. Rhythmically considered the
passage consists of a suspensive arc followed by a pathetic :
" On the whole it may be said that the change from anonymous to signed
articles | has followed the course of most changes. It has not led to one-
half either of the evils/\or of the advantages | that its advocates and its
opponents foretold." The author's quarrel is with the second sentence.
On the ground that it is not sufficiently clear, he causes it to read as follows :
"It has not led to one-half either of the evils foretold by its opponents | or
of the advantages foretold by its advocates." But if he has made the
sentence clearer he has at the same time destroyed the original rhythm.
He has changed the arc from the pathetic type to the suspensive.
726 FEED NEWTON SCOTT.
Addison readily Aundertook | the proposed task,
a task which to so good a Whig | was probably a pleasure. —
(Macaulay, Addison.)
Following are a few examples of more complex sequences.
The first begins with the suspensive type, passes to the
pathetic, then closes with a compound of pathetic and
suspensive :
To take delight in that genius, so human, so kindly, so
musical in expression | requires it may be said, no long
preparation.
The art of Theocritus scarcely needs to beAillustrated | by
any description of the conditions among which it came to
perfection.
It is always Aimpossible | to analyze into its component
parts | the genius of a poet. — (Lang, Theocritus and His Age,
p. xiii.)
In the next example the suspensive type is followed by
the pathetic-suspensive and this again by the pathetic.
Thus a Greek of the old school | must have despaired of
Greek poetry.
There wasAnothing | (he would have said) | to evoke it;
no dawnAof liberty | could flush this silent Memnon into
song. — (Andrew Lang, Theocritus and His Age.)
The following passage from Jane Eyre opens with the
compound type ; the remaining arcs are alternately pathetic
and suspensive.
A waftAof wind | came sweeping down the laurel walk, |
and trembled through the boughs of the chestnut ;
it wandered awayA — away | — to an indefinite distance — it
died.
The nightingale's voice was then the onlyAvoice | of the
hour :
in listening to it | I again wept. — (Jane Eyre, Chap. 23.)
The next passage, from Landor, opens and closes with the
pathetic type. The intervening arc is compound.
THE SCANSION OP PROSE RHYTHM. 727
There are no fields Aof amaranth | on this side of the grave ;
there are noAvoices, | O Rhodope, | that are not soon mute,
however tuneful ;
there is no name, with whatever emphasis of passionate
loveArepeated, | of which the echo is not faint at last.
In the following paragraph the first two sentences are
suspensive ; the third sentence is a pathetic arc of the same
rhythm as the last one in the preceding selection ; the sequence
closes with a brief suspensive arc. The second sentence
appears to mount above the first because of the lengthening
of the first segment of the arc.
Certainly at some hour, though not perhaps your hour, |
the waiting waters will stir ;
in some shape though not perhaps the shape you dreamed,
which your heart loved and for which it bled, | the healing
herald will descend ;
the crippled and the blind and the dumbAand the possessed
| will be led to bathe.
Herald, | come quickly. — ( Villette, Chap, xvii.)
The following from Southey's Life of Nelson shows an
alternation of compound and suspensive arcs :
The most triumAphant death | is that of the martyr ;
the most awful | that of the martyred patriot ;
the most Asplendid | that of the hero in the hour of victory ;
and if the chariot and the horse of fire had been vouch-
safed for Nelson's translation | he could scarcely have departed
in a brighter blaze of glory.
Finally I give a specimen in which two compound arcs
are followed by two suspensive arcs, the passage closing with
the pathetic type :
There is another Aisle | in my collection, | the memory of
which besieges me.
I put a whole Afamily | there | in one of my tales ;
And later on, threw upon its shores and condemned to
several days of rain and shellfish, I the hero of another.
728 FRED NEWTON SCOTT.
The ink | is not yet faded ;
The sound of the sentences | is still in my mind's ear ;
And I am under aAspell | to write of that island again. —
(R. L. Stevenson, Memoirs of an Islet.)
In bringing my paper to a close I will make two general
observations :
First, it is apparent that my analysis of prose rhythm,
even if it be correct, has hardly stormed of this philological
Port Arthur the outermost fortress. Stress, alliteration,
distribution of phrasal sections, balance of word and phrase,
these and other elements have been touched upon briefly or
not at all. But they have not been overlooked or under-
estimated. They have been put aside in order to direct
attention sharply to a single feature — the prose foot or unit
of scansion.
Second, I am well aware that objections may be made to
my method of scanning — and made with some force — on the
ground that it is purely subjective. If others do not scan
these sentences as I have scanned them, what becomes of my
theory? To this objection I can only reply that I have
scanned according to my feeling and my instincts. A con-
siderable number of other scholars will, I hope, have the
same feeling and will scan in approximately the same way.
If they do, then there is sense in my way of scanning.
However individuals here and there may differ with me, my
way has sanction ; it cannot be wholly wrong. On the
other hand if my scansion rings false to every one, then I
shall be forced to concede either that I have not made
myself clear, because of defects in the symbolism and mode
of explanation, or (reluctantly) that my sense of rhythm is
defective. In the latter case this paper will have, I hope,
at least a transitory interest as a document in pathological
psychology.
FRED NEWTON SCOTT.
XXII.— THOMAS KYD AND THE UK^HAMLET.
For some reason, the dramatist Kyd almost entirely
dropped out of public notice during the 17th and 18th
centuries. This is the more remarkable when we remem-
ber the popular favor which greeted certainly the Spanish
Tragedy and perhaps other of his productions during the
last decade of the 16th and the first quarter of the 17th
century. It was one of the achievements of 19th century
scholarship to restore Kyd to his place among the great
Elizabethan dramatists. In this restoration, a single para-
graph from Nash's prefatory Epistle to Greene's Menaphon
has played a conspicuous r6le. It has now come to be all
but universally accepted by scholars that this paragraph
refers to Kyd, and in it are found not a few otherwise
unknown facts of his literary history. This paragraph also
has the distinction of containing the first reference in the
English language to Hamlet ; and a study of the context has
led students to the opinion that, according to Nash, Kyd
was the author of the Ur-Hamlet.
The two questions may be kept distinct : 1st, is Nash, in
this paragraph, referring to Kyd and to no one else ; 2nd,
if so, does Nash mean to ascribe the Ur-Hamlet to Kyd ?
While there is practical unanimity of opinion among students
of the subject it may be well to quote their conclusions.
Malone l enjoys the distinction of being the pioneer. " Not
having seen the first edition of the tract till a few years ago,
I formerly doubted whether the foregoing passage (in Nash)
referred to the tragedy Hamlet ; but the word Hamlets being
printed in a different character from the rest, I have no
1 The Plays and Poems of Wiliiam Shakespeare, edited by the late Edward
Malone, 1821.
729
730 ALBERT E. JACK.
longer any doubt on the subject." Vol. n, p. 371. "Per-
haps the original Hamlet was written by Thomas Kyd."
P. 372.
Widgery : 1 " We see, then, that this Epistle will refer to
Kyd far better than it will to Shakespeare." P. 103.
Fleay2 remarks, p. 119: "In the address prefixed to
Greene's Menaphon, in a passage in which Nash has been
satirising Kyd and another as void of scholarship and unable
to read Seneca in the original, etc."
A similar opinion is held by Mr. Sidney Lee.3 " Kyd's
career doubtless suggested to Nash (in his preface to Greene's
Menaphon) his description of those who, leaving ' the trade,
etc.' .... When Nash proceeds to point out that Seneca's
famished followers imitate the 'Kydde in Aesope' he is
apparently punning on the dramatist's name."
.Professor McCallum4 closes his discussion with these
words : — " Unless or until this piece of evidence (that Kyd
translated Italian) is explained away, Kyd's claim to the
original Hamlet must be considered to have the preference "
(over Shakespeare). P. 295.
No one has done so much to make plausible this whole
Nash-Kyd theory as Sarrazin.5 P. 98 : " Aus mehreren
Griinden ist also die Hypothese, dass der Ur-Hamlet von
Shakespeare selbst verfasst sei, ganz unhaltbar." P. 99 :
" Es ist jetzt moglich geworden, mit grosser wahrschein-
1 The First Quarto Edition of Hamlet, 1603, London, 1880, Herford and
Widgery.
2 A Chronicle History of the Life and Work of Shakespeare, Frederick Gard
Fleay, London, 1886.
3 Dictionary of National Biography, article Thomas Kyd.
4 The Authorship of the Early Hamlet, pp. 282-295, in An English Mis-
cellany, Oxford, at the Clarendon Press, 1901.
5 First in Englische Studien, vol. xv, and Anglia, vols. xii and xin ; and
later in his Thomas Kyd und sein Kreis, von Gregor Sarrazin, Berlin, 1892.
All citations in this article from Sarrazin are from his Thomas Kyd und
sein Kreis.
THOMAS KYD AND THE UR-HAMLET. 731
lichkeit objectiv zu erweisen, was Malone, Widgery, u. a.
mehr nach subjectivem Gefiihl, instinctiv richtig erriethen."
Professor J. Schick,1 p. xvi, remarks : " The ' Kidde in
Aesope' — this is indeed, I think, calling things by their
names ; surely Nash points here with his very finger to the
person of Kyd." .... " We have no absolute proof that it
(the paragraph from Nash) refers to Kyd and no one else ;
but unless as much light can be thrown on the passage, and
as many items can be made to fit it, by substituting any
other than Kyd's name, I think we may be allowed to
interpret it in some such way as indicated above."
The crowning expression of the growing interest in Kyd
is seen in the work of Boas.2 In the introduction, p. xlv,
we read, " It has been shown .... that, unless we are mis-
led by a well-nigh incredible conspiracy of coincidences, Kyd
must be the object of Nash's attack ; and, consequently, the
author of the early Hamlet-tragedy to which he derisively
alludes." P. xlix : " Evidences of Kyd's authorship of it
(Ur-Hamlet) have become practically conclusive."
Lastly, Schroer3 incidentally gives his opinion on the
subject without giving any reason for dissenting from the
position of Sarrazin and others. P. 88 : " Die Hypothese
eines Kyd'schen Ur-Hamlet scheint mir aber nach dem
Gesagten noch mehr in der Luft zu schweben, wie die ganze
Kyd'sche dramaturgische Gestalt selbst." P. 59 : " Ich
gehe auf die Hamletfrage hier nicht niiher ein, da dies ohne
Auseinandersetzung mit der gehaltvollen Arbeit Sarrazin's
mit deren Resultaten ich vorliiufig nicht ubereinstimmen
kann, nicht moglich ware, und dies gehort eigentlich nicht
1 The Spanish Tragedy, edited by J. Schick, J. M. Dent & Co., London,
1898.
2 The Works of Thomas Kyd, edited by Frederick S. Boas, M. A., Oxford,
at the Clarendon Press, 1901.
*Ueber Titus Andronicw, Dr. M. M. Arnold Schroer, Marburg, 1891.
732 ALBERT E. JACK.
hierher." Whether Schroer has changed his views with the
years we do not know. I have placed his name out of its
chronological order to accentuate the fact that, so far as I
know, he alone has dissented from the opinion universally
held by scholars since the time of Malone. It is the purpose
of this paper to present the arguments put forth by Sarrazin,
Schick, Boas, and others in favor of Nash's reference to
Kyd's authorship of the early Hamlet; to criticise these
arguments and to present new evidence against the entire
theory. How far my reasons are identical with those which
led Schroer in 1891 to be skeptical, I do not know.
The sole source of external evidence for many of the
supposed facts of Kyd's life and in favor of his authorship
of the Ur-Hamlet is the 8th paragraph in Nash's Epistle
introducing Greene's Menaphon.
But least I might seeme with these night crowes, Nimis curiosus in aliena
republica, I' le turne backe to my first text, of studies of delight, and talk a
little in friendship with a few of our triuiall translators. It is a common
practise now a daies amongst a sort of shifting companions, that runne
through every arte and thriue by none, to leaue the trade of Nouerint
whereto they were borne, and busie thernselues with the endeuors of Art,
that could scarcelie latinize their necke- verse if they should haue neede ;
yet English Seneca read by candle light yeildes manie good sentences, as
Bloud is a beggar, and so foorth ; and if you intreate him faire in a frostie
morning, he will afford you whole Hamlets, I should say, handfulls of
tragical speaches. But 'o grief e ! tempus edax rerum, what's that will
last alwaies ? The sea exhaled by droppes will in continuance be drie, and
Seneca let bloud line by line and page by page, at length must needes die
to our stage : which makes his famisht followers to imitate the Kidde in
Aesop, who enamored with the Foxes newfangles, forsooke all hopes of
life to leape into a new occupation ; and these men renowncing all possibili-
ties of credit or estimation, to intermeddle with Italian translations ; wherein
how poorelie they haue plodded (as those that are neither prouenzall men,
nor able to distinguish of Articles), let all indifferent Gentlemen that haue
trauailed in that tongue, discern by their twopenie pamphlets ; and no
meruaile though their home-borne mediocritie be such in this matter ; for
what can be hoped of those, that thrust Elisium into hell, and haue not
learned so long as they haue liued in the spheares, the just measure of the
Horizon without an hexameter. Sufficeth them to bodge up a blanke verse
THOMAS KYD AND THE UK-HAMLET. 733
with ifs and ands, and other while for recreation after their candle stuffe,
hauing starched their beardes most curiouslie, to make a peripateticall path
into the inner parts of the Citie, and spend two or three howers in turning
ouer French Doudie, where they attract more infection in one minute, than
they can do eloquence all dayes of their life, by conuersing whith anie
authors of like argument.
From this paragraph it has been argued : 1. That though
the plural is used, the author has but one person in mind ;
2. That the details here given agree with the otherwise
known facts of Kyd's life ; 3. That certain references here
to The Spanish Tragedy show Nash is referring to Kyd. I
shall take up these arguments, quoting the words of the
chief defenders of the theory. I shall then, 4, name some
points of disagreement between the passage and the known
facts of Kyd's life.
I. As to the plural. "Wenn auch Manches in diesen
Anspielungen dunkel ist und vielleicht immer dunkel bleiben
wird, so geht doch soviel zunachst mit ziemlicher Sicherkeit
daraus hervor, dass sie sich nicht auf mehrere, sondern auf
eine einzige Person beziehen ; denn es ist eine ganz einheit-
liche und individuell bestimmte Characterzeichnung, die darin
entworfen wird. Aehnlich spricht Nash in derselben Epistel
von 'idiot art masters' und < vain-glorious tragedians' und
meint dam it nur Christopher Marlowe; der plural dient nur
zur Verhiillung des personlichen AngrhTs." Sarrazin, p.
100. " The use of the plural, .... is evidently a mere
rhetorical device, as so elaborate an indictment could only be
aimed at a single personage." Boas, p. xx.
No one has thought it worth while to suggest any motive,
plausible or otherwise, for Nash's concealing his personal
opinion of Kyd. Certainly it was not his own native reserve
nor over-sensitiveness at the pain he might cause another.
Nor could it be, so far as we know, on social grounds
or financial, as these men belonged to rival theatrical
734 ALBERT E. JACK.
companies.1 Moreover, savage attacks upon literary fel-
low-workers were then in vogue.2 Besides, the argument
of Sarrazin that Nash may be interpreted as alluding
here to one person while still using the plural because earlier
in the Epistle he uses the plural and means no one but
Marlowe, does not clinch the point at all ; for, the second and
third paragraphs of the Epistle, containing the supposed
references to Marlowe, are just as applicable to Peele as to
Marlowe, and hence Sarrazin has no right to say Nash here
means " nur Christopher Marlowe." Furthermore it is in-
teresting to note that Fleay (p. 119), while thinking the
paragraph is aimed at Kyd, sees at the words " what can be
hoped of those, etc.," a turning from Kyd to Marlowe. And
also Professor Thorndike,3 while holding that Nash's allu-
sions fit Kyd better than any one else, still thinks " it may
possibly refer to more than one dramatist." 4 That is to say,
the paragraph evidently does not so unmistakably point to
one person as even to convince those who see in it a reference
to Kyd. The use of the plural without any adequate motive
for concealment will have to be counterbalanced by clear
personal reference to an individual, if we are to think the
paragraph refers to one person and to one person only.
Whether an interpretation of the paragraph making it refer
to one person only, can satisfy the context will be discussed
later.
1 Fleay, pp. 10-15.
* If it can be shown that the reference is to Kyd, then it is quite possible,
as Prof. Manly has suggested to me, that Nash (contrary to the view of
Sarrazin ) had no intention of concealment, that his thrusts at the dramatist
would be easily recognized by those to whom they were addressed and that
Nash chose this method, rather than the more direct one, purely for rhetori-
cal effect.
3 Mod. Lang. Notes, vol. xvn, p. 290.
* It may be worthy of note that those who see in the paragraph references
to one or more dramatists besides Kyd are confronted by the additional
difficulty of determining to what one Nash means to give the credit for the
Ur-Hamlet.
THOMAS KYD AND THE UB-HAMLET. 735
II. Agreement of details of paragraph with otherwise
known facts of Kyd's life.
a. " Ferner triffit es zu, dass jener Dichter zum Beruf des
' Noverint ' geboren war, denn Thomas Kyds Vater war ja,
wie wir gesehen haben, Notar, also einer, der solche mit
' Noverint universi ' beginnende Urkunden abfasste ; ob er
selbst diesen Beruf erwahlt und nachher aufgegeben hatte,
wissen wir nicht, konnen es aber wegen der Vorliebe fur
Process-Scenen und einiger juristischer Kunstausdriicke, wie
1 Ejectio firma,' ' sub-forma pauperis,' vermuthen. Sarrazin,
p. 100. "Thomas Kyd's father being a scrivener, the son
was indeed literally 'born to the trade of noverint.' '' Schick,
p. x. " Kyd, the scrivener's son, was certainly born to the
trade, and Nash seems to imply that he followed it for a
time, before leaving it to ' busie ' himself with the ' indeuors '
of art." Boas, p. xxi. The various attempts to show what
trades and professions Shakespeare was probably an appren-
tice in, by citing his use of semi-technical words, must give
us pause before the similar attempts of Sarrazin, Boas, and
others to show that Kyd probably was himself a scrivener.
There is however no denying the fact that Kyd's father was
one. Whether Nash here means to refer to Kyd's father
will be discussed later.
6. " Zunachst scheint schon der Vergleicl^ mit dem Zick-
lein (Kidde) einer Aesopischen Fabel, welches sich in die
neumodische Tracht des Fuchses verliebt, eine Anspielung
auf den Namen des Dichters zu enthalten.1
1 Um so mehr als diese Fabel eine f reie Variation Nashs ist. Keine der
Aesopischen Fabeln, in welcher ein Zicklein oder Bock vorkommt, hat
einen iihnlichen Inhalt ; wohl aber ist in einer derselben (Fabvlae, Aesopicae,
ed. Camerarius, p. 221, vgl. Phaedri abularum Aesopiarum libri quinqui, ed.
Luc. Mueller, p. 68) von einem Affen die Rede, welcher den Fuchs wegen
seines schmucken Felles und seines schonen Schwanzes beneidet. Nash hat
also offenbar statt des Affen das Zicklein in die Fabel hinein escamotirt,
um ein Wortspiel auf Kyd zu gewinnen." — Sarrazin, p. 100.
" The ( Kidde in Aesop ' — this is indeed, I think, calling
736 ALBERT E. JACK.
things by their names ; surely Nash points here with his
very finger to the person of Kyd." Schick, p. xi.
Two things ought to be said of this argument : First,
Sarrazin's suggestion, that Nash had altered the original
fable to make it fit the case, had great weight until Koeppel
(Eng. Studien, vol. xvm, p. 130) pointed out that Nash was
here borrowing from Spencer's Shepherd's Calender, May,
lines 274-277,
Tho out of his packe a glasse he tooke,
Wherein while Kidde unawares did looke,
He was so enamored with the newell,
That nought he deemed deare for the Jewell.
Here is the Kyd and Fox story and the word " enamored "
makes it clear Nash had this passage in mind ; especially,
as he elsewhere in this short Epistle praises Spencer, thus
showing himself familiar with the poet's work. Secondly,
accepting Koeppel's criticism as final, the matter reduces
itself to the old " six of one and half a dozen of the other."
If the thought fits Kyd and him only or if elsewhere in the
paragraph Nash is alluding to Kyd, this is a clever pun ;
if, however, nothing unmistakably in the context points to
Kyd, there is nothing in the words " the Kidde in Aesop "
to give the slightest reason for thinking here Nash's mind
was on Kyd. The use of the word " lamb " in an English
book of 1833 does not give the slightest presumption that
the author was thinking of Elia, nor the occurrence of
"Fox" in an essay of 1685 that the writer had his mind on
George Fox.
c. " Es wird ferner auf die Beschaftigung mit franzosischen
und italienischen Uebersetzungen angespielt. In der Sp. Tr.
kommen mehrfach italienische Citate vor, sowie ein Hinweis
auf die Auffiihrungen italienischer Schauspieler (S. 152).
Aus diesen Griinden und wegen der meist italienischen oder
italienisch klingenden Eidgennamen der Sp. Tr. konnte man
THOMAS KYD AND THE UE-HAMLET. 737
versucht sein eine italienische Quelle anzunehmen. Un-
zweifelhaft aber ist, dass Kyd Garniers Cornelie aus dem
Franzosischen ins Euglische iibersetzt hat ; das franzosische
* Weibsbild ' diirfte auf eben dies Drama gemiinzt sein,
welches freilich erst 1594 im Druck erschien, aber doch
schon einige Jahre vorher verfasst sein kann." Sarrazin, p.
101. That Kyd knew Italian and translated it is admitted
by all. This fact by itself proves little, because Italian was
so generally known by literary people of the time and there
were translations by the hundred.1 Nor must it be forgotten
that, as Kyd's pamphlet from the Italian dates from 1586
and the Epistle from August, 1589, we are paying the
general intelligence of the students quite a compliment in
supposing these youths knew of this translation and saw in
Nash's reference to such a translation, an allusion to Kyd.
III. Allusions to The Spanish Tragedy in the paragraph
of such a character as to indicate Nash has its author in
mind.
a. "Namentlich aber trifft auf Kyd zu, dass der Ver-
fasser des Ur-Hamlet als Nachahmer Senecas charakterisirt
ist. Bei der Cornelia, die ganz im Stile Senecas gehalten
ist, kann man freilich die Nachahmung nur als indirekt,
durch Gamier vermittelt bezeichnen. Aber auch die Sp.
Tr. zeigt fast auf jeder Seite den Einfluss Senecas." Sarrazin,
p. 101. "He had Seneca's dramas at his fingers ends. In
The Spanish Tragedy almost every one of them is drawn
upon," Boas, p. xvii. No one has ever doubted that Seneca
exerted a considerable influence upon Kyd. This influence
is an accepted fact. But it is just as widely accepted that
scarcely a dramatic contemporary of Kyd's escaped the
Senecan influence. If we may suppose the bewildered stu-
1 Einstein, The Italian Renaissance in England, 1903, Chap. VII, and Miss
M. A. Scott, Elizabethan Translations from the Italian, Pub. Mod. Lang.
Assoc., 1895-1899.
5
738 ALBERT E. JACK.
dents questioning each other as to the meaning of Nash's
dark paragraph, we may be sure that the veiled figure having
been influenced by Seneca would give them little if any clue.
b. " Ein sehr betreffender Hieb ist es auch, wenn auf die
Manier, den Blankvers mit ' i/s ' und * ands ' auszuflicken,
hingewiesen wird. Man vergleiche z. b. :
8p. Tr. II : i : 122-5 :
"And with that sword he fiercely waged war,
And in that war he gave me dangerous wounds,
And by those wounds he forced me to yield,
And by yielding I became his slave."
Sp. Tr. m : 13 : 98-100.
"If love's effects so strive in lesser things,
Tf love enforce such moods in meaner wits,
If love express such power in poor estates."
Sarrazin, p. 101.
But Schick, p. xii, and Boas, p. xxix, make the " ifs " and
"ands" refer to the Spanish Tragedy, n : i: 79, quoting,
"What, villaine, ifs and ands."
Surely no one can reasonably assent to the contention that
in the words "to bodge up a blank verse with 'ifs' and
' ands ' " we have a clear reference to the Spanish Tragedy
when those making the contention do not agree as to what
line or lines the words refer to. Besides, as Kyd was not
the only writer of his time who began successive lines with
" and " or " if," l nor the only one who used the phrase " ifs
and ands," 2 these words of Nash would by no means neces-
1 Cf. Gorbodw, IV : 2 : 234-235, m : i : 16-18 ; Wounds of Civil War
(Dodsley-Hazlett, vol. 7), pp. 124, 184, 157, 168, 114, 112 ; Arraignment
of Paris, iv : i : 269-271, n : i : 138-139. For these and scores of other
instances of repetition of initial "and" and " if " in contemporary Eng-
lish plays I am indebted to Prof. F. G. Hubbard of the University of
Wisconsin.
2 Bang, Englische Studien, vol. 28, p. 282.
THOMAS KYD AND THE UK-HAMLET. 739
sarily suggest to their readers the author of the Spanish
Tragedy.
c. " When Nash speaks of ' thrusting Elisium into hell '
he is alluding to the Spanish Tragedy, i : i : 72. . . . The
sneer at those who ' have not learned the just measure of the
hexameter ' is directed at Kyd's borrowing the details of his
picture of the lower world from the sixth book of the Aeneid,
Sp. Tr., i: i: 18-25," Boas, p. xxix. But this is supposing
that Nash and the University students to whom the Epistle
is directed, these young men (Nash himself was but 22) who
had never held a copy of the Spanish Tragedy in their hands,
only a small fraction of whom had ever seen it played
(assuming for the moment that it was then in existence), —
this is, I say, supposing that these young men are like the
members of a 19th century University Seminar who know
by heart every line of the poem or play they are studying.
It is not impossible that they did so know it, but it is
highly improbable. But be this as it may, Nash, with his
mind on the Sp. Tr.} i : i : 72—73, would not have accused
Kyd of stupidly thrusting " Elisium into hell," for the very
obvious reason that Virgil, whom Kyd is so closely follow-
ing here, has Aeneas view, in Hades, the same blissful
fields.1 Kyd is guilty of no blunder in lines 72—73, and
hence Nash cannot have this line in mind when he wrote
" what can be hoped of those that thrust Elisium into hell."
IV. Some points of disagreement.
o. Nash's words that they (Kyd) " could scarcelie latinize
their neck verse if they should have need " must, according
to Boas, p. xlvi, be " largely discounted " ; this is " stretch-
ing a satirist's licence to its limits," p. xlv. " Kyd, more-
over, had a certain faculty of classical composition," p. xviii.
" He is familiar with a fairly wide range of classical authors
1 Cf. Sp. ZV. i : i : 60-75 with the Aeneid vi : 440-702.
740 ALBERT E. JACK.
but probably did not enjoy a " methodical University train-
ing," p. xvii. " The scurrilous depreciation of his rival's
classical attainments." " Still he knew his Seneca thoroughly
in the original," p. xlv. Now, there are two alternatives
open : either to say with Boas that Nash has " scurrilously
depreciated " Kyd's classical learning and that here he fails
to tell the truth ; or that these words are so far from true
that Nash cannot here be speaking of Kyd. One ought to
take the former alternative if there are some other things
that taken alone or cumulatively point to Kyd, and besides
if there are only few that contradict what we otherwise
know of him ; we ought to take the latter if the fixed points
are few and if other important discrepancies are found.
6. Nash implies, so say the critics, that they (Kyd),
knowing so little Latin, turn to the English translation of
Seneca. Here again Boas, p. xlv, admits Nash's charge that
Kyd was guilty of " bleeding English Seneca line by line
and page by page must be exaggerated." Still "English
Seneca has a strong influence upon him," p. xxiv. In spite
of this affirmation not a single citation is made to substantiate
it, nor has any one, so far as I have seen, pointed out in the
Spanish Tragedy or elsewhere in Kyd a single line borrowed
from the translations of Seneca then accessible. Perhaps
borrowing can be pointed out, but as yet this has not been
done. Boas does say, p. xlv, " In a passage like Act III :
i: 1-11 of the Spanish Tragedy where lines 57-73 of the
Roman dramatist's Agememnon are adopted into English, an
unfriendly eye might see the influence of a translation." I
reproduce lines 1—11 of the Spanish Tragedy XT/and lines
57-73 from the only English translation of Seneca's Aga-
memnon now known to be in existence in 1589.
" Unfortunate condition of kings,
Seated amidst so many helpless dounts !
First we are plac'd upon extremest height,
THOMAS KYD AND THE UR-HAMLET. 741
And oft supplanted with exceeding hate,
But ever subject to the wheel of chance ;
And at our highest never joy we so,
As we both doubt and dread our overthrow.
So striveth not the waves with sundry winds,
As fortune toileth in the affairs of kings,
That would be feared, yet fear to be belov'd,
Sith fear or love to kings is flattery."
Sp. Tr. m : i : 1-11.
Agamemnon,
" O Fortune, that dost fayle the great estate of kinges.
On slippery sliding seat thou placest lofty things
And setst on totering sort, where perils do abound
Yet never kingdome calme, nor quiet could be fond ;
No day to Scepters sure doth shine, that they might say,
To morrow shall we rule, as we have done today.
One clod of croked care another bryngeth in,
One hurly burly done, another doth begin :
Not so the raging Sea doth boyle upon the Sande,
Where as the southern winde that blows in Afryck lande,
One wave upon another doth heape wyth sturdy blast ;
Not so doth Euxene Sea, his swelling waves upcast ;
Nor so his belching streame from shallow bottom roll,
That borders hard upon the ysy frosen poall :
Where as Bootes bryght doth twyne his Wayne about,
And of the marble seas doth nothing stande in doubt.
O how doth Fortune tosse and trouble in her wheele
The staggering states of Kynges, that readdy bee to reele ?
Fayne would they dreaded bee, and yet not settled so,
When they feared are, they feare, and live in woe."
I leave it to the reader to determine whether even an
" unfriendly eye " could see any borrowing here.1
In criticising these arguments in detail I have not pre-
sumed to offer a full refutation, but rather have sought to
show merely on what slender foundation a superstructure
has been reared. If I have succeeded in making it plain
that the current exegesis of the famous paragraph finds itself
1 Prof. Manly has called my attention to the fact that the "borrowing"
seems to have been made, not from the translation, but from the Latin 1
742 ALBERT E. JACK.
in many embarrassments, my purpose is attained. Of course
there is a limit to the burden of difficulties any hypothesis
can carry.
. What remains is to present a new interpretation of the
paragraph. It is remarkable that hitherto no writer on
the subject has so much as mentioned the paragraph's
immediate context. An analysis of Nash's Epistle shows
four clearly marked divisions :
1. Paragraphs 1-7. A plea for the kindly reception of
the Menaphon on the part of the students at the Universities.
A plea is necessary because its simple style and originality
will not at once be attractive to those whose habits and tastes
have recently been spoiled by the "vain glorious tragedians."
2. Paragraphs 8-13. Concerning early eminent trans-
lators, their work and that of their successors.
3. Paragraphs 14-15. A witty digression on wine and
the production of poetry.
4. Paragraphs 16—18. English writers compare favor-
ably with those of the continent.
We are concerned here with the second part only (para-
graphs 8-13), the first paragraph of which is the one under
discussion. Beginning with the second paragraph (9th) the
argument is as follows :
2nd (9th). But lest I should condemn all translators
and commend none, I shall name first those continental
scholars who have labored successfully in translation ; Eras-
mus " that invested most of our Greek writers, in the Roabes
of the Ancient Romaines " and Melancthon, Sadolet, and
Plantine who "merviouslie inriched the Latine tongue with
the expense of their toyle."
3rd (10th). It later became the custom in this country
to exhibit one's Latin learning in English print. William
Turner, Sir Thomas Eliot, Sir Thomas Moore made names
for themselves here and St. John's College, Cambridge,
THOMAS KYD AND THE UB-HAMLET. 743
became a famous center from which went out such scholars
as "Sir John Cheek a man of men, supernaturally traded
in all tongues."
4th (llth). But the good practices of the past are now
forgotten. The present short cut to learning is deplorable,
viz. that of leaving the reading of standard classical authors
for "mere Epitomes (summaries), leaving the fountains of
Science, to follow the rivers of Knowledge." As a result
our students know little Latin and yet both in translation
and gloss are constantly exhibiting this little.
5th (12th). Yet some scholars of the present are worthy
of praise. Gascoigne deserved imitation. Turberville's work
is good " though in translating he attributed too much to the
necessitie of rime." Arthur Golding is to be remembered
" for his industrious toile in Englishing Ovid's Metamor-
phosis, besides many other exquisite editions of Divinitie,
turned by him out of the French tongue." Master Phaer
has left us his "famous Virgil" and Master Francis an
"excellent translation of Master Thomas Watson's sugred
Amintas."
6th (14th). Good poets must now be very rare, for no
one of late " durst imitate any of the worst of these Romane
wonders in English " and no one has shown himself " singu-
lar in any special Latin poem." Though Hoddon, Carre,
" Thomas Newton with his Leydon," and Gabriel Harvey
deserve mention. A man is unworthy the name of scholar
who is not also a poet.
It is very clear that what Nash has his mind upon in the
last five of the six paragraphs in this division is classical
scholarship ; sometimes he is thinking of it historically, as in
the 2nd and 3rd paragraphs ; sometimes pedagogically, as in
the 4th paragraph. Of the twenty-five scholars mentioned,
nine are explicitly named as translators of the ancient classics,
and a study of their biographies shows that the remainder
744 ALBERT E. JACK.
are all famous only for their classical scholarship. There is
not a word about French or Italian translations, except the
incidental remark concerning Arthur Golding quoted above.
Always, too, in Nash's mind is the conviction that the pres-
ent state of classical attainments is quite below what it once
was and should be. How, now, shall we interpret the first
paragraph, the oft-quoted one beginning with the words " and
talk a little in friendship with a few of our trivial transla-
tors," a paragraph which no reader of the Epistle will fail
to connect with the five summarized above? Can this open-
ing paragraph refer to one man, a dramatist, Kyd, whom
no one lias ranked as a classical scholar and who if he be
referred to in the paragraph is said to know no Latin ? I
cannot think so. Moreover I do not think Kyd's name
would ever have been associated with the paragraph had the
context been carefully scanned. To say the point of the
paragraph consists in an attack upon a dramatist of rather
low birth who, after vainly seeking success in other callings,
adopts the literary profession, writing his plays under the
influence of an English translation of Seneca, obliges one to
make a very violent transition at Nash's second paragraph
which begins, " But least in this declamatorie vaine I should
condemne all and commend none, I will propound to your
learned imitation, those men of import, that have labored
with credit in this laudible kind of translation." Again if
these " trivial translators " of " now-a-days " of the 8th
paragraph means Kyd, when after speaking of famous trans-
lators in the 9th and 10th paragraphs Nash comes back
again to the present in the llth and 12th paragraphs with
the opening words, " But how ill their precepts have pros-
pered with an idle age .... their overfrought studies, with
trifling compen diaries maie testifie," he must again be speak-
ing of Kyd. How ill these paragraphs, full of criticism of
the classical scholarship of the day, fit the dramatist Kyd, a
THOMAS KYD AND THE UR-HAMLET. 745
single reading will convince anyone. If it can be shown
that but one person is referred to in this paragraph, the
person must in his accomplishments resemble the group
mentioned in the following paragraph, i. e. must be a person of
profound classical attainment and not one whose classical
deficiencies are referred to incidentally.
But does the content of this paragraph fit any better the
preceding context? In the opening sentence we have the
words " I'll turn back to my first text of studies of delight,
and talk a little in friendship with a few of our trivial trans-
lators." In the 3rd paragraph of the Epistle, Nash has said
that these " vain glorious tragedians " feed on " nought but
the crummes that fall from the translators trenchers." Surely
the natural interpretation here will identify the " translators "
of the 3rd paragraph and the "trivial translators" of the
8th, as Nash distinctly says he will " turn back " to them.
But no one will maintain that Kyd was the " translators "
from whom the Marlowe school drew ; rather, it seems
clear that these "translators" must have been trans-
lators of the ancient classics, most likely translators of
Seneca. The position of this paragraph in a section treating
of classical scholars and their work is overwhelmingly against
the theory that the paragraph refers to the dramatist, Kyd.
So clear is the logical order of these paragraphs, so evident
is their general meaning, so serious their purpose, so absurdly
irrelevant any digression on Kyd, so free are the paragraphs
from any suggestion of a digression that we do the utmost
violence to the context if we hold the paragraph in question
was directed against the author of the Spanish Tragedy. We
surely err gravely if we interpret sentence or paragraph
without due regard to their context. This is the error all
recent writers on Kyd have committed.
The difficulties of the current exegesis of the paragraph
have been sufficiently exposed. These are many and serious.
746 ALBERT E. JACK.
It remains to offer a substitute interpretation of this famous
paragraph. The following is a free rendering, but designed
to express every idea of any importance in the paragraph :
I desire to revert to what I was talking about at the open-
ing of the Epistle and say a few words in a friendly fashion
(spoken ironically) about some of our hack translators of the
day. It is quite common now-a-days for a set of incapable
fellows who are jacks of all trades and masters of none,
whom nature intended to do mere clerical work (" noverint
whereto they were borne " *) to betake themselves to scholarly
tasks, though their classical learning is very slight indeed.
One of the products of these hack translators is the render-
ing of Seneca into English. Now these translations of the
Roman dramatist are not wholly bad, for you will find in
them such a fine alliterative sentence (probably penned with
a twinkle of Nash's eye) as " Blood is a beggar " and there
may also be found " whole Hamlets, I should say, handfulls
of tragical speaches." To be serious, however, these trans-
lations of Seneca are wretched, they literally murder the
original Seneca (" Seneca let blood line by line and page by
page ") not once or twice but everywhere. Even these hack
translators themselves feel their work to be so poor that
they see Seneca will soon lose his vogue on the English
stage. In anticipation of this they (hack writers) are turn-
ing from the translation of Latin to the translation of
Italian. It is not to be wondered at if in this last venture
they do ill, for what good can be hoped of those who have
transformed good Latin into wretched English ("thrust
Elisium into hell ") and who stupidly persist in translating
1 " whereuppon I thought it as good for mee to reape the frute of my
owne labours, as to let some unskilful pen-man or Noverint-Maker starch
his ruffe and new spade his beard with the benefit he made of them." —
The Works of Nash, ed. by Grosart, vol. in, p. 214.
THOMAS KYD AND THE UR-HAMLET. 747
Latin hexameters into English hexameters. l These men
having no fine literary sense are content to patch up their
verse with if 8 and ands; nor are their morals better, for
when night has come, disguised they associate with French
women 2 of questionable character from whom they will take
more defilement in one minute than they can speak eloquence
in the remainder of their lives.
Are there difficulties in this interpretation ?
1. " Blood is a beggar." It may, with right, be objected
that this sentence is not in the translation of Seneca edited
by Newton in 1581. But surely Nash's words "manie good
sentences, as ' Bloud is a beggar ' " must be irony, as no one
would call this slight alliterative predication " good." Nash
is here jesting at the alliteration used by the Senecan trans-
lator on every page.
2. " Whole Hamlets." The meaning is, in English Seneca
will be found either (1) characters much like Hamlet, or (2)
plays as full of tragical speeches as either (a) the well-known
play of Hamlet, or (6) as the prose tale of Hamlet. The
language is not sufficiently explicit to warrant a dogmatic
statement.
3. " Intermeddle with Italian translations." It may be
said the translators of the 1581 Seneca (Studley, Nuce,
Neville, Heywood, and Newton) did not later betake them-
selves to Italian translations. But a reference to the Epistle
will make it clear that no violence is done to the paragraph
in making Nash refer primarily to " trivial translators " in
xThus interpreted, the words, "have not yet learned the just measure
of the Horizon without an hexameter" not only fit perfectly Nash's argu-
ment in the paragraph, but they are also in harmony with his views
expressed elsewhere. Cf. Works of Thomas Nash, edited by Grosart, vol.
H, p. 218 : "For that was a plannet exalted above their hexameter Hori-
zon ; " ibidem, pp. 237-238, Nash at length inveighs against the use of the
hexameter in English.
2 Professor McCallum, p. 294 ; and Professor Thorndike, p. 290.
748 ALBERT E. JACK.
general, and only incidentally to the translators of Seneca.
When he speaks of turning to translate Italian he has
departed from his specific illustration and reverted to the
genus, " trivial translators," whom he has in mind through-
out the six paragraphs. Thus interpreted, Nash's words are
strictly true to the trend of events in August, 1589. Senecan
influence had been dominant on the English stage for thirty
years, but beginning with 1590, i. e. with the career of
Shakespeare, Seneca's influence is clearly on the rapid decline.
Italian influences rather than Latin were from the start power-
ful with the bard of Avon.1 Nash may not have been right
in assigning the cause of the Senecan decline to poor transla-
tions, but he was perfectly right about the decline, as he
was also respecting the new forces which were superseding
the old.
I believe we may say with considerable confidence that
over against an interpretation of the paragraph full of diffi-
culties and obscurities we may have an interpretation wherein
the difficulties are extremely slight, if indeed they may be
said to exist at all. Moreover the interpretation given above
unifies the paragraph as the current interpretation does not :
The failure of the hack translators of the classics is its
unifying theme. With this interpretation the paragraph is
in logical harmony with its whole context, as is its idea
consonant with that of the whole Epistle. Moreover, its
words, as was shown above, give a true account of the
literary history of the time.
The conclusion reached is twofold : 1st, Nash has not
Kyd in mind in this paragraph nor indeed any dramatist
at all ; 2nd, this paragraph throws no light upon the author-
ship of the Ur-Hamlet, nor indeed is it perfectly clear that
Nash knew of a Hamlet drama.
ALBERT E. JACK.
1 Einstein, Chapter vm.
XXIII.— THE PROLOGUE TO THE LEGEND OF
GOOD WOMEN CONSIDERED IN ITS
CHRONOLOGICAL RELATIONS.
The following discussion of the actual dates of the com-
position and revision of the Prologue to the Legend of Good
Women takes up the question at the point where it was left
in a previous article1 on the Prologue as .related to its
1 Publications Mod. Lang. Assoc., xix, 593-683. To a dissertation of Dr.
John C. French ( The Problem of the Two Prologues to Chaucer's Legend of
Good Women, Baltimore, 1905), which re-argues the question from the
point of view of the priority of the A-version, the reader may be referred
for a criticism of the article just mentioned. It is impossible, within the
limits of a foot-note, to do justice to Dr. French's suggestive study ; yet a
note is all that space allows. One may perhaps be permitted to observe,
however, that Dr. French's criticism of the paper under discussion seems to
rest on a misapprehension of the purport of its first three sections, which
have been given in consequence a turn that obscures the real point at issue.
Those sections (whose mention here seems necessary, in order to bring
the problem itself into the clear) deal throughout with the relations of the
Prologue, particularly the B-version, to its sources, leaving explicitly
the argument for the relation of the two versions to each other to the final
section, where the problem is considered in the light of the relations of
each to the French and Italian originals. It surely needs no elaborate
argument to demonstrate that if a poem x is derived from an original
y, and z is a revision of z, a great deal of y will continue to appear
in z, and that very obvious fact was taken for granted by the present
writer in the discussion of the sources of B. Dr. French's interesting
argument (op. cit., pp. 32-38) to prove that A. also agrees in many points
with those same sources deals, accordingly, with a man of straw. In the
case of only one passage has Dr. French attempted to show what alone, on
his premises, would invalidate the argument he is examining — the fact,
namely, that A. is closer to the sources than B. And in that one case — the
comparison (op. cit., p. 36) of A. 51-52 and B. 60-61 with Lay de Franchise,
11. 44-45 — the phrase " whan the sonne ginneth for to weste" (quant il [le
soleil] fait son retour) is common to both versions, and " than closeth hit"
(Ses fueittes clot) of A. is exactly balanced by " And whan that hit is eve "
(Et au vespre) of B. Dr. French's conclusion that A. 51-52 "are much
749
750 JOHN L. LOWES.
French and Italian sources and models. The attempt was
there made to show, on the basis of such relations, that B.
nearer to the French than are the corresponding lines of F. [B.] " accord-
ingly falls to the ground, while the striking parallel of B. 64 and Lay de
Franchise, 1. 47 is scarcely explained away by the remark that "Mr chere
and son atour are certainly not equivalent save in the sense that they are
different figures of speech for the same literal original" (op. tit. , p. 39 ; cf.
Pubs. Mod. Lang. Assoc., xix, 615, n. 3). In like manner, Dr. French's
very sound conclusion (op. cit, p. 33) — after pointing out that structurally A.
as well as B. agrees in certain respects with the Lay de Franchise — that ' ' the
difference between the two versions, therefore, is not so great as might seem,
for it is merely a difference in the treatment of the same material" [italics mine],
again simply emphasizes the obvious fact taken for granted throughout
the particular sections under discussion, which leave this (somewhat impor-
tant!) "difference in the treatment" for discussion later in a passage
(Pubs. Mod. Lang. Assoc., xix, 679-80) to which Dr. French does not
refer. The same fallacy vitiates the discussion of the passages cited on pp.
65-66 of the dissertation. In other words, Dr. French confuses the issue
entirely by pointing out in extenso what no one would think of denying —
the fact that A. as well as B. contains passages which go back to the French
originals ; while in but one instance does he attempt to demonstrate what
for his case is the sine qua non — that A. stands in closer relations to those
originals than B.
As for the other main point at issue, the balade, Dr. French's admission
(op. cit. , p. 26) that "the ballad in F [B] is therefore somewhat out of
harmony with its cgntext, and bears the appearance of a passage wrested
from its former connection to serve a new purpose," while "in G [A], on
the other hand, the ballad is perfectly in place," grants the whole case (see
Pubs. Mod. Lang. Assoc., xix, 655-57, 681) ; while his criticism (p. 50)
of the "awkward device" — as he elsewhere (p. 96) calls it — of the herald
lark (A. 138-143 ) on the ground that ' ' the allusion to his [the god of Love's]
spreading wings is ... incongruous, for it is hard to conceive him at one
moment as flying through the air and the next as walking beside his queen
attended by a multitude of ladies " — this criticism unluckily overlooks the
fact that Chaucer was so inconsiderate as to retain this same incongruity
(B. 236) in his supposed revision ! To mention but a single other instance
where one fact has been overlooked in attending to another, it is in B. and
not A. that the real confusion of antecedents exists to which Dr. French
refers on p. 46, as a glance at the following couplets makes clear :
A. 48-49. To seen these floures agein the sonne sprede,
Whan it up-riseth by the morwe shene :
B. 48-49. To seen this flour agein the sonne sprede,
Whan hit upryseth erly by the morwe.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 751
was the original version and A. the revision. Assuming the
soundness of such a conclusion, is it possible to fix at all
Dr. French's assertion (p. 32) "that the bifurcation of F [B] at line
196 is entirely arbitrary," is an extreme reaction upon a statement which,
it may be frankly admitted, was perhaps itself somewhat strongly put.
Arbitrary the division ( "bifurcation" is Dr. French's word) at B. 196 is
not ; but a happier statement of the position criticized would have laid the
emphasis first, as well as last (see op. cit., p. 680 — the passage which Dr.
French overlooks), upon the mechanical character of the unity of B. (whose
unity, of this lower type, it was never intended to deny), as contrasted with the
organic unity of A. The contention is not for unity vs. hick of unity, but
for a higher vs. a distinctly lower type of it.
Dr. French's main positive contribution to the discussion of the problem —
for his ' ' thorough line by line comparison of the whole of the two ver-
sions" (p. 3) can scarcely be granted when sixty-four lines, including
such important variations as those of A. 135-36 = B. 150-51, A. 231
= B. 305, A. 253-54= B. 327-28, A. 340-42 = B. 362-64, are merely
appended (p. 98) in a list "for the sake of completeness " — is his treatment
(pp. 75-98) of the lines partly identical in both versions. But practically
everything Chaucer has done in passing, according to Dr. French, from A.
to B., he can be shown to have done on the hypothesis of a change from B.
to A. , and even the instances actually cited seem hopelessly at variance with
one another. Space permits brief reference to the "changes for metrical
improvement' ' alone. When, to take a single example, story and stryfot A. 80
are (supposedly) changed to story and thing of B. 196, it is to avoid ' ' a heaping
up of sibilants" (p. 78) ; when sat and than this of A. 228, however, are
changed to sat and sith his of B. 302, thus introducing the fatal second sibi-
lant, it is to avoid " the recurrence of the <A-sounds " (p. 80). But when,
again, in A. 95 the Scylla of a repeated of is avoided, it is only to fall, in
B. 199, into the Charybdis of a repeated the, which gives the very "repeti-
tion of the harsh tA-sound " that, not only in the passage just cited, but
also in A. 4 = B. 4, A. 5 = B. 5, A. 228 = B. 302, Dr. French had insisted
Chaucer was bent on cutting out. Unluckily, too, the supposed change
from A. to B. has introduced quite as many "awkward heaping[s] up of the
tA-sounds" as it has obviated — among others, A. 116 = B. 128, A. 137 =
B. 151, A. 170 = B. 238, A. 209 = B. 255 (the refrain of the balade itself !),
A. 342 = B. 364. Indeed, as one reads Dr. French's argument, one recalls
with some bewilderment lines that are among the glories of English poetry :
"Full fa</iom five thy fa^Aer lies ; " " That there hath past away a glory from
the eartA;" "Bo<Aof them speak of some<Aing that is gone." Scarcely
less arbitrary than his standards of euphony seem Dr. French's other criteria
of improvement, read in the light of Chaucer's own usage or that of other
English poetry ; but space precludes detailed examination here.
752 JOHN L. LOWES.
definitely the date of each? The present paper essays an
answer to that question and includes as a corollary a dis-
cussion of the chronology of certain of Chaucer's other
works specifically named in one or both forms of the
Prologue itself.
A word, however, by way of definition of the point of
view may be permitted to find place here. In suclj an
investigation as the present one there is need, perhaps,
of facing squarely what seems to be by no means an imagi-
nary danger — that of allowing considerations of chronology
or of sources insensibly to blind one to the paramount claims
of the work of art as such. And inasmuch as in what
follows the question of chronology will occupy space which
(especially if one dare imagine Chaucer's sense of humor
playing on it) must appear grotesquely disproportionate, it
may be pertinent to say frankly at the outset that the
interest of the present discussion in the mere chronology
of Chaucer's work is, despite seemingly damning evidence
to the contrary, an altogether subordinate one. ' It is sub-
ordinate, that is to say, to the appreciation (if one must tax
again a word which has suffered many things of many
cults) of the poems themselves. In other words, in so far
as the establishment of the chronology genuinely illuminates
the poems by bringing them out of comparative isolation
into vital relation with each other and with the larger
compass of the poet's work ; in so far as it throws light
upon the poet's modus operandi and helps one to " catch
Hints of the proper craft, tricks of the tool's true play ; "
in so far as it tends in general to a dynamic rather than a
static conception of the poet's art, it more than justifies
itself. In what follows, accordingly, it is the ultimate possi-
bility of a truer, because a larger and more vital appreciation
that is sought after, with however small success, hi the
seeming effort merely to fix certain dates. With this prefa-
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 753
tory confession of the substance of things hoped for, one
may come with a freer conscience to what at the outset is a
somewhat bald rehearsal of facts and figures. And the date
of the B-version will be first considered.
I.
In attempting to reach the date of B. two steps seem
necessary : first, the determination, if possible, of the limits
between which the time of composition must lie ; second, the
close examination of the possibilities within the limits thus
fixed.
One of the limits in question has been already pointed out.
For if the inferences of the earlier discussion regarding the
influence of the Lay de Franchise on the B-version of the
Prologue are sound,1 and if, as seems clear, the Lay was com-
posed by Deschamps for the celebration of May-day, 1385,2
it follows at once that the first version of the Prologue was
written after May 1, 1385. Is it also possible to reach from
external evidence a limit in the other direction? On the
basis of the very acute deductions of Professor Kittredge
regarding the authorship of the JSook of Cupid,3 such a limit
does seem attainable. For one may be reasonably certain
that the writer of the Book of Oupid knew the B-version of
the Prologue.4 If, then, the poem was the work of Sir John
1Pwis. Mod. Lang. Assoc., xix, 615-16, 620-21, 635-41.
*lb., 603-06.
8 See the article on " Chaucer and some of his Friends," Mod. PhttoL, I,
15-18.
4 It is needless to repeat the evidence collected by Vollmer (Das mittd-
englische Oedicht The Boke of Cupide, Berlin, 1898, pp. 49-50) and Skeat
( Chaucerian and other Pieces, pp. 526 ff., under 11. 20, 23, 243). The passages
there given are individually none of them entirely conclusive, inasmuch as
they are in large measure commonplaces. The whole atmosphere of the
poem is, however, that of the Prologue, and the fact that the author does
undoubtedly borrow from the Knight's Tale and probably from the Parle-
6
754 JOHN L. LOWES.
Clanvowe, who died, as is now known/ October 17, 1391,
this date will give a positive limit in this direction for the
composition of the Prologue, which we may place, accord-
ingly, between May 1st, 1385 and October, 1391 — or,
indeed, with some assurance, between May 1st, 1385 and
the departure of Clanvowe for Barbary in 1390.2 Within the
ment of Foules as well (Kittredge, op. dt., p. 14 ; Vollmer, loc. cit.) points
with practical certainty to the Prologue as the source of the passages in
question.
1 1 am indebted to Professor Kittredge, since the present article has been
in type, for the exact date of Sir John Clanvowe's death and for the note
which follows regarding its circumstances. The reference is found in John
Malverne's continuation of Higden's Polychronicon (Kolls Ser., Polychron.,
TX, 261) : "Item xvii°. die Octobris dominus Johannes Clanvowe miles
egregius in quodam vico juxta Constantinopolim in Graecia diem clausit
extremum." Malverne, as Professor Kittredge points out, is the best kind
of authority, since he was not only a contemporary of Clanvowe, but seems
to have known him particularly well. What Clanvowe was doing at
Constantinople is not clear. Perhaps he returned from Barbary that way ; '
perhaps he was going on a pilgrimage. It is worth noting that William
Nevil, his companion on the journey, died of grief. ' ' Quam ob cau-
sam," continues Malverne, "dominus Willelmus Nevyle ejus comes in
itinere, quern non minus se ipsum diligebat, inconsolabiliter dolens num-
quam postea sumpsit cibum. Unde transactis duobus diebus sequentibus in
eodum vico lamentabiliter exspiravit" (Polychron., Appendix, ix, 261-62).
This William Nevil had gone on the Barbary expedition with Clanvowe
(or Clanvowe with him) ; see ix, 234. Nowhere does Malverne say any-
thing of Clanvowe's return. He does briefly describe tKe evil fate of the
expedition (ix, 240) : "Dux Bourbon . . . primo victoriam obtinuit de
praedictis paganis ; sed secunda vice ex adverso venit intolerabilis copia
paganorum cum magna audacia Christianos compulit fugere ad naves
eorum in multo discrimine personarum, sicque Christiani qui vivi evaserunt
'a manibus paganorum ad propria sunt reversi de eorum evasione deum multipli-
citer collaudantes." It is probably safe to say that Clanvowe did not com-
pose much love poetry after he started on the Barbary expedition !
2 The question will certainly be asked : Does this date not likewise give
the limit for the composition of A. as well? For Vollmer (op. cit., p. 50)
concludes his discussion of the relation of the Book of Cupid to the Pro-
logue as follows : "Endlich eine stelle aus der nur in einer hs. erhaltenen,
von der im Fairfax MS. stark abweichenden version A. . . : v. 139/40 heisst
es da : This song to herkne I dide al myn entente, For-why I mette I wiste what
they mente, womit zu vergleichen 1st [Boke of Cupide, 11. 108-09] : Me
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 755
period of five (or six) years thus indicated, is a still closer
approximation possible ?
In a poem containing an address to certain singers to
whom he specifically acknowledges indebtedness, Chaucer
gives evidence of having borrowed from a poem of Des-
champs. Deschamps is known to have sent to Chaucer by
Clifford certain poems of his own, with a request that the
compliment be returned. There is accordingly the strongest
antecedent probability that the particular poem of Deschamps
which Chaucer did know, to whose writer, among others, he
did, as it seems, make distinct acknowledgment, was among
those which reached him from Deschamps himself through
their common friend. The determination, accordingly, of the
possible opportunities for a meeting between Deschamps and
thoghte (ebenfalls im traum ) I wiaie ol that the briddes menle, And what they
seide and what was her entente." The parallel is at first sight a striking one,
and the inference of a borrowing from A. would of course, if valid, date
the A-version, on the hypothesis just stated, before 1390-92. But such
an inference overlooks, as Professor Kittredge has pointed out regard-
ing it, two important facts. The first is that the rhyme mente: entente
is of so frequent occurrence as to render it worthless as evidence of
the influence of one passage on another. Moreover, as a glance at the
examples will show, the rhyme is also associated with certain other stock
phrases, appearing in both the passages in question, which even further
diminish its evidential value. See, for instance, the following : " 'Never
erst,' quod she, *ne wiste I what ye mente. But now, Aurelie, I knowe
your entente"' (F. 981-82) ; "She com to diner in hir playn entente.
But god and Pandare wiste al what this mente" (Troilus, n, 1560-61) ;
"Totelle me the fyn of his entente; Yet wiste I never wel what that
he mente" (ib., Hi, 125-26) ; "Answerde him tho ; but, as of his en-
tente, It semed not she wiste what he mente" (ib., v, 867-68) ; "[By]
privee signes, wiste he what she mente ; And she knew eek the fyn of his
entente (E. 2105-6). Cf. also G. 998-99; A. 2989-90; B. 4613-14; F.
107-08 ; F. 521-22 ; B. 324, 327 ; Troilus, n, 363-64 ; 1219, 1221 ; m,
1185, 1188 ; iv, 172-73 ; 1416, 1418 ; v, 1693-94.
The second observation, which applies to the coincidence in substance, is
that in the Book of Cupid the device of assuming knowledge of the lan-
guage of the birds is not, as in the A-version of the Prologue, a mere
incident (however effective), but grows out of the fundamental motive of
756 JOHN L. LOWES.
Clifford within the limits marked seems to carry with it the
fixing of the possible dates at which the Lay de Franchise
could have reached Chaucer, and that, in turn, defines still
more closely the date of the first form of the Prologue. Such
an examination, however, it should at once be premised, by no
means depends for its pertinence solely upon the acceptance of
the particular inference just stated. For whether by the hand
of Clifford or of some one else the Lay de Franchise clearly
had somehow to reach England before Chaucer could make
use of it. And precisely at the period we are concerned with
the sort of communication between England and France
through which alone the current literature of the one country
could have any reasonable chance of reaching the other was
kept within somewhat sharply defined limits by the exigen-
cies of the Hundred Years' War, which was still dragging
on. The fact that the negotiations for the various truces
between France and England were frequently in the hands
of friends or acquaintances of the two poets, so that their
the poem itself, inasmuch as the very thing it purports to give is a dialogue
between two birds. If the poem is to be at all, the device is virtually inevi-
table, and the hypothesis of borrowing accordingly uncalled for. A very
much closer parallel, indeed, than that in the Prologue exists for the Clan-
vowe passage in another poem of Chaucer1 s, where a similar couplet appears
in connection with similar inherent requirements of the plot. In the
Squire' s Tale, when Canace walks out on the morning after the gift of her
magic ring, she has new delight in the singing of the birds,
For right anon she wiste what they mente
Right by hir song, and knew al hir entente (F. 399-400).
That is to say, in the Squire's Tale and the Book of Cupid alike the situa-
tions proposed carry with them as a corollary the employment of such a
device, and in each instance, along with the almost inevitable stock phrase
"wiste what they mente" would come the no less predestined rhyme "en-
tente." No conclusion, then, of any sort can well be drawn from the couplet
in Clanvowe, regarding the date of A. That to Chaucer himself, whose phrases
had a habit of clinging to his mind, the fundamental situation of one of his
own poems might conceivably suggest an incidental touch in another is a
possibility of a different sort, to be considered later.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 757
respective circles more than once intersected ; the alternate
smouldering and flaming not only of actual hostilities but
also of the sense of antagonism itself; the very specific fact
that Deschamps's personal attitude towards England during
part of the period in question was such as apparently to
preclude for the time the possibility of his sending a com-
plimentary message to any Englishman whatsoever — this
ebb and flow, in a word, of the larger tides of international
affairs seems to have genuine significance for the smaller
problem where our first interest lies.1 The movements of
Deschamps and Clifford, with their various implications,
must accordingly be carefully examined.
Deschamps's attitude towards " la terre Angelique " was
not at all times that of the balade to Chaucer.2 In August,
1380, his little country house — his "maison gracieuse" —
of les Champs at Vertus was burned " per ceulx de Bruth,
de 1'ille d'Angleterre," 3 with a loss of two thousand francs.4
To his hostility " toute generalment " as a Frenchman there
1 It is not altogether unilluminating that the collector of such data finds in
Deschamps a mine of historical material, while in Chaucer he discovers
only — poetry ! What follows, accordingly, even should it be deemed to
serve no other purpose, may at least enhance by contrast our appreciation
of what Chaucer might in his own day have been, and by the countenance
and grace of heaven was not.
2 Coming, as he does, very near being his own Boswell, Deschamps ex-
plains at length in balade No. 1154 (vi, 87-88), with the characteristic
refrain " C'est de ce mot 1'interpretacion," the terms he applies to England
in the obscure Chaucer balade itself. "Chaque fois," said the Marquis de
Queux de Saint-Hilaire, "que Deschamps parle de 1' Angleterre, il devient
obscur ; " and for any light he voluntarily offers, one may be duly thankful.
8 No. 845 (v, 17). See Nos. 250 (u, 86), 835-36 (v, 5, 6), 864 (v, 42) for
further statements regarding the catastrophe, and cf. Eaynaud in Oeuvres,
xr, 11, 32-33.
4 We are left in no doubt on this point. "IL M. frans et plus lui a
couste Ceste guerre," he writes in the third person to the king (No. 250) ;
".IIm. frans m'a leur guerre couste," he informs the Dukes of Anjou and
Bourgogne (No. 864) ; in the identical line he also complains to the world
in general (No. 835).
758 JOHN L. LOWES.
was thus added the tone of personal resentment, which one
readily detects in a number of the balades directed against
the English. It seems entirely reasonable, then, to infer
that the message to Chaucer belongs to one of the not
infrequent ententes cordiales that marked the progress, in the
last decades of the fourteenth century, of the Hundred
Years' War, rather than to the intervening periods when,
the more bitter after futile hopes of peace, hostility ran
high — an inference whose warrant a fuller presentation of
the details may serve to make more clear.
The discomforts of the first Flemish campaign, of 1382-
83, in which Deschamps took part with much groaning of
spirit,1 did not conduce to amicable feelings towards the
English allies of the hated Flemings, nor did the second
campaign of 1383.2 In the spring of 1384, however, during
the truce of Leulingham,3 negotiations were begun looking
once more towards a treaty of peace between France and
England. John of Gaunt and the Earl of Buckingham and
Essex were the commissioners from England ; 4 the Dukes of
Berry, Burgundy, Bourbon, and Brittany the ambassadors
from France ; 5 and the negotiations were to be carried on at
Boulogne in Picardy. To Picardy in the spring of 1384
Deschamps himself was sent to inspect the fortresses (with
the added possibility of a voyage to England)6 and to await
1See Raynaud, xi, 37-38 ; Pubs. Mod. Lang. Assoc., xix, 607, n. 2.
2 Raynaud, xi, 39-40 ; Pubs. Mod. Lang. Assoc., loe. cit.
3 From January 26 to October 1, 1384. See Eymer (2d ed., Holmes), vn,
418-20 ; cf. Raynaud, xi, 42.
4Rymer, vn, 429 (27 May, 1384), cf. 432. See particularly Armitage-
Smith, John of Gaunt (1904), pp. 287-88, and references there given.
5Rymer, vn, 431 (27 May, 1384). With the French ambassadors were,
among others, the Count of Sancerre, Arnault de Corbie, and Guy de Tre-
mouille (Rymer, vii, 433 ), all of them friends or acquaintances of Deschamps
(see Raynaud' s index in Oeuvres de Deschamps, x, s. v. Corbie, Champagne
(Louis de), La Tre"mouille (Guy de).
6 Oeuvres, xi, 42.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 759
at Boulogne the arrival of the French ambassadors. August
seems, however, to have arrived first,1 and meantime De-
schamps availed himself of the opportunity to visit Calais in
the company of Otho de Graunson, "flour of hem that make
in France." The brief stay of the two poets in Calais was
enlivened by an incident whose narrative makes an interesting
pendant to the balade associated with Philippa of Lancaster,
and taken in conjunction with it throws some light upon
what nearly concerns us — the fluctuations in Deschamps's
attitude towards England. He begins his tale as follows :
Je fu 1'autrier trop mal venuz
Quant j'alay pour veir Calays ;
J'entray dedenz comme cornuz,
Sanz congie" ; lore vint. II. Anglois,
Granson devant et moy apr£s,
Qui me prindrent parmi la bride :
L'un me dist : " dogue," J 1'autre : " ride ; " 8
Lore me devint la coulour bleue :
"Goday,"4 fait Tun, 1'autre : "commidre." 5
Lore dis : "Oil, je voy vo queue." '
The interchange of amenities continues during an alterca-
tion over Deschamps's laissez-passer, he narrowly escapes
arrest, and with Graunson spends a night which he later
*In the Itintraires de Philippe le Hardi (ed. Petit) the time from Aug. 4
to Sept. 15 is given up to "Sejour a Boulogne pour le traittie de la paix"
(p. 169). See also the documents for July in Kymer, VH, 433, 438-39, 441
3 dog. s ride.
4 good day. 8 come hither.
•No. 893 (v, 79-80). For the legend of the Anglici caudati — which Des-
champs also makes use of in Nos. 671 (iv, 130), 847 (v, 20), 868 (v, 48),
the latter beginning: 'Tranche dogue, dist un Anglois, Vous ne faictes
que boire vin" — at first applied only to the inhabitants of Dorset, see Roman
de Brut (ed. Le Boux de Lincy), n, 251-53 ; Montaiglon, Eec. de poesies
fr. , vi, 347-48 ; P. Meyer, Romania, xxj, 51 n ; Etienne de Bourbon (ed.
Lecoy de la Marche), p. 234 ; Du Cange, s. v. Caudatus; Wright, Reliquiae
Antiquae, n, 230; P. d'Auvergne (Mahn, Qedichte der Troubadours, No.
222) ; Godefroy, n, 167.
760 JOHN L. LOWES.
recalls in vivid terms.1 Finally, however, the Dukes arrive
at Boulogne, and the negotiations continue until September
14th,2 merely extending the truce to May 1st, 1385. But it
is clearly to this same period that the P. H. E. L. I. P. P. E.
balade3 belongs. For as has already been pointed out on
other grounds 4 that almost certainly falls at the close of 1384
or the beginning of 1385. The presence at Boulogne of
both the Duke of Lancaster and Deschamps during August
and September, 1384, seems to account perfectly for all the
facts in the case, and makes it still more difficult to doubt
that the balade was sent to the Lady Philippa by Deschamps
himself, in which case it may well have been seen by Chaucer.5
That Deschamps, moreover, whose acquaintance within the
circle of John of Gaunt is thus indicated, should not there
have heard of Geoffrey Chaucer, is hard to believe, and one
may fairly infer that at the close of 1384 the two poets knew
something of each other's work. That inference and the
fact that Deschamps was capable of two very different tones
1 Est cilz aise qui ne se puet dormir
Et qui ne fait toute nuit que viller,
Puces sentir, oyr enfans crier,
Sur un mattas et sur cordes gesir,
Avoir or draps et sur dur orillier ? . . .
Et, d'autre part, oir la grant mer bruir
Et les chevaulx combatre et deslier?
Cest a Calays ; Granson, veille"s jugier (No. 596, IV, 55).
2Bymer, vn, 441-43. The Duke of Burgundy leaves Sept. 15 (Petit,
Itineraires, p. 169); the account of Walter Skirlawe, sent to Calais "pro
tractatu pads," etc., covers the period 15 June-28 Sept. (Mirot et Deprez,
Les Ambassades anglaises pendant la guerre de Cent ans, in Bibliothvque de
VEcole des Charles, Vol. LX, p. 206).
8 No. 765 (iv, 259-60).
*PuAs. Mod. Lang. Assoc., xix, 608-10. I had entirely overlooked the
corroboration afforded the view there stated by the facts, just commented
on, connected with the peace negotiations of 1384.
5 See Kittredge, Modern Philology, i, 5.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 761
indeed toward England, may be of value in weighing the
subsequent evidence.1
For we come, now, to the events which follow May 1st,
1385, the date of the composition of the Lay de Franchise,
and the question at once presents itself: What was the first
reasonable opportunity after May 1st for knowledge of the
Lay de Franchise to reach Chaucer, either at the hands of
Sir Lewis Clifford or otherwise? The first thing to be
noted is that May 1st was also the date of the expiration
of the extended truce. Another of the abortive efforts to
turn a truce into a peace had just terminated. The Bishop
of Hereford, William Beauchamp, Walter Skirlawe and Sir
John Clanvowe on the part of England,2 the Bishop of
Bayeux, Arnault de Corbye, the Sire de Sempy 3 and others
on the side of France,4 had failed to reach an agreement,
and by the 30th of April the English commissioners seem
to have left France. That Sir Lewis Clifford had been
with them there (a thing in itself by no means impossible)
there is no evidence, and the fact that on May 4th, 1385,
protection for half a year was granted Philip Bluet, " stay-
ing on the King's service with Lewis de Clifford, constable
of Cardigan Castle in South Wales," 5 seems to indicate
that he was in Wales at the time. But even if Clifford had
been at Calais, Deschamps was not,6 so that at the actual
1 The following balades of Deschamps have reference to the negotiations
of 1384 at Boulogne: Nos. 785 (iv, 289), 66 (i, 162), 337 (in, 47), 344
(HI, 62-63), 359 (m, 93-95). See also xi, 43.
sKymer, vn, 466-67.
8 See for each Raynaud's index to Deschamps.
4 See the accounts of the Bishop of Hereford, Skirlawe and Clanvowe, all
closing April 30th, in Mirot et Deprez, op. cit., p. 207. From Gal. Pat.
Bolls. Rich. II, 1381-85, p. 569, we learn that on May 18th Sir John Clan-
vowe was about to go to Wales on the King's service.
5 Col. Pat. Rolls. Rich. II, 1381-85, p. 569.
'See the account of Deschamps' s movements in the spring of 1385 in
Oeuvres, xi, pp. 45-46.
762 JOHN L.x LOWES.
time of composition of the Lay de Franchise opportunity
for it to reach England seems wanting.1
But immediately after May 1st hostilities were renewed
more vigorously than for many years. Particularly was
this true on the part of France, and Deschamps' s patriotism
seems to have reached at about this time a somewhat violent
pitch. Not far from May 20th 2 the French Admiral, Jean
de Vienne, sailed for Scotland, an event which Deschamps
celebrated in two balades,3 one of which ends with the
sanguinary lines :
Du sang des mors de chascune partie
Fleuves courront, et veritablement
Les fils de Bruth mourront la a tourment,
Et, des ce jour, n'ont espoir de merci :
Destruiz seront, c'est leur definement,
Tant qu'om dira : Angleterre fut cy. *
Nor was it long before Deschamps himself was actively
engaged in the hostilities, marching with the royal forces
on July 21st for his third expedition into Flanders, where
Ackermann, the ally of the English, was making fresh
trouble for France.5 The month of August was spent before
Dam6; on the 28th of September the King was again in
1 One must of course recognize that poetry is not contraband of war, and
may run the blockade in ways hard to trace. But we are dealing here with
a case which seems to involve the relations of the poets as well.
2 Terrier de Loray, Jean de Vienne, Amiral de France (Paris, 1877), p.
189, cf. pp. 185 ff. ; Chronographia Regum Francorum (ed. Moranville),
in, 75 ; cf. Oeuvres de Deschamps, xi, 46 ; Annitage-Smith, op. tit.., p. 293,
n. 3.
3 Oeuvres, xi, 46.
4 No. 26 (i, 106-07). The other balade, No. 143 (i, 268-269) is a less
bloodthirsty prophecy of victory.
5 Chronographia Reg. Franc., ill, 75, n. 3 ; Oewres de Deschamps, xi, 47.
• Oeuvres de Deschamps, xi, 47. See particularly the balades referred to
there and in note 1.
THE LEGEND OP GOOD WOMEN. 763
Paris,1 whence Deschamps accompanied him the next month
to Troyes, which he left only in November.2
But while Deschamps was engaged with the English allies
in Flanders, Sir Lewis Clifford was fighting the French
forces in Scotland. The invasion of Scotland by Jean de
Vienne led to a call on the 4th and again on the 13th of
June for the English forces to assemble at Newcastle-on-
Tyne by the 14th of July.3 From this call, however, Clifford
(of whom the last previous notice is that of May 4th, already
referred to), together with Sir Richard Stury, John de Worth,
Thomas Latimer and Thomas Morwell, was on the 12th of
of June specifically exempted, and enjoined to attend on the
King's mother, the Princess Joan, "ubicumque earn infra
Regnum nostrum praedictum moram trahere contigerit." 4
The Princess Joan's will is dated August 7th, 1385,s and
her death certainly followed within a few days.6 On the 6th
of August the King had entered Scotland,7 and Clifford, so
soon as released by the death of the Princess Joan, must
have joined him there. That he did is indicated by the state-
ment of Froissart that "en la cite" de Karlion estoient en
garnisson messires Loys de Cliffort, frfcre au signeur, messires
Guillaumes de Noefville, messires Thomas Mousegrave et
llb., p. 48. 2 76., p. 48.
3Rymer, vii, 473 (4 June), 474 (13 June) ; cf. Armitage-Smith, op. cit.,
p. 294. 4Eymer, vn, 474.
6 Nichols, Wills of the Kings and Queens of England, p. 78.
•The Monk of Evesham (Hist. Regni et Vitae Rich. II, p. 63) gives the
date as "circa principium mensis Augusti." Nichols' statement (op. cit.,
p. 82) that the Princess Joan died July 8, 1385, is a manifest error. On
his assertion that she died "of grief for the King her son's just resentment
to her son John Holland, for killing Lord Stafford in a fray" (loc. cit.),
see Walsingham, Hist. AngL, IT, 130, and cf. the Monk of Evesham, loc.
cit. See also Armitage-Smith, op. cit., p. 294. The Princess Joan's will
was proved Dec. 9, 1385, and Clifford was one of her executors (Nichols,
op. cit,, p. 81).
7 Wallon, Richard II, I, 243 ; Terrier de Loray, op. cit., p. 200.
764 JOHN L. LOWES.
ses fils," etc.1 Jean de Vienne did not return to France
until shortly after November 26th, 1385,2 and it is extremely
unlikely that Clifford left Scotland while hostilities were still
in progress. From May to December of 1385, accordingly,
Deschamps and Clifford were employed in such a fashion as
to make it practically impossible that they should have met
in the interval. Moreover, the attitude of Deschamps toward
England was clearly not such as would dictate the exchange
of courtesies implied in the Chaucer balade. And finally,
leaving the direct agency of Deschamps altogether out of the
question, it is in the highest degree improbable that at any
time during 1385 a French poem of so distinctly occasional
a character as the Lay de Franchise should by any other
medium have crossed the channel. It is probabilities and
not certainties with which, indeed, we have just here to deal ;
but the probabilities seem decidedly against Chaucer's knowl-
edge of the Lay de Franchise before the close of 1385, and
therefore against the inference that the B-version of the
Prologue was composed during that year.
The year 1386, however, opened more auspiciously, and
in the early spring the circles of the two poets again inter-
sected. As a result of the intercession of Leo, King of
Armenia,3 commissioners were once more appointed to treat
for peace, including on the English side Sir John Clanvowe,4
and on the French side Arnaut de Corbye, Louis de Cham-
pagne, and Charles de Trie5 — the first two having been
1 Ed. Kervyn, x, 394.
2 Terrier de Loray, op. cit., p. 203.
3 See the various references in An Eng. Chron. of the Reigns of Rich. II,
Henry IV, etc. (Camden Soc., 1856), p. 146, and add Chron. de St. Denys,
I, 418 ff.
4Rymer, vn, 491-94; cf. Mirot et Deprez, op. cit., pp. 207-08. The
accounts are from the 9th (10th, 12th) of February to the 28th of March.
5Bymer, vn, 497 ; cf. 496, 498.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 765
among those who took part in the previous negotiations.1
Charles VI, supposing that Richard II was coming to
Calais to treat in person, advanced as far as Boulogne, but
finding that only commissioners were being sent, despatched
his own representatives to Leulingham, midway between
Calais and Boulogne.2 Deschamps, who seems to have been
at this period, as huissier d'armes, in close attendance upon
the King,3 may have been — it is scarcely too much to say,
probably was — present at these negotiations, as we know
him to have been at those^of 1384, although his name
appears in neither case in Rymer.4 Nor is there evidence
of weight to oppose to any one who cares to conjecture that
Sir Lewis Clifford may possibly have accompanied his friend Sir
John Clanvowe and the English commissioners to France.5
The records are silent as to his whereabouts from the mention
of his presence at Carlisle at the close of 1385 to his testimony
in the Scrope-Grosvenor suit, October 19th, 1386. For that
he did not accompany the Duke of Lancaster to Spain in 1386,
as Froissart's mention of a Lewis Clifford in connection with
that expedition implies,6 seems, in spite of Froissart, almost a
1 See p. 758, n. 5, adding for Charles de Trie, index to Deschamps, s. v. Tine.
2 Ohron. de St. Denys, I, 426-27 ; cf. Oeuvres de Deschamps, xi, 48.
3 Oeuvres de Deschamps, xi, 45-48.
4 The safe conduct granted the commissioners included, however, "leurs
Gents, Familiers, Chevalers, Esquiers, Clers, Varies et autres, de quel estat
ou condicion que ils soient, jusques au dit nombre de Trois cens Parsonnes"
(Rymer, loc. cit.).
'It should be remembered that Chaucer's name, for example, is not
included in the commissions of 1377 to treat of peace, although his own
statement of accounts for both and Froissart's mention of him in connec-
tion with one prove him to have been on the two missions.
8 " Et fut la ville de Saint- Jaques & ung chevallier d' Angleterre baillie'e
a garder, et pour en estre le chief et capitaine, lequel on appelloit messire
Leys Clifford, et avoit par dessoubs luy trente lances et cent archiers ( ed.
Kervyn, xu, 94-95). Cf. Scrope-Grosvenor RoU, n, 429 ; Morant, Hist,
and Antiq. of the Deanery of Graven, p. 315 ; Beltz, Memorials of the Order of
the Garter, p. 263.
766 JOHN L. LOWES.
certainty. Lancaster and those who were to accompany him
had already testified at Plymouth in the Scrope-Grosvenor
case ; 1 Clifford, on the other hand, gave his evidence in the
refectory of Westminster Abbey on October 19th.2 The fact
that he was not among those who testified at Plymouth, and the
immediate return from Spain that would necessarily have been
involved in his presence later at the trial render his connection
with the expedition highly improbable. Moreover, Froissart's
reference is to a date after the marriage of Philippa of Lancas-
ter, that is, after February 2nd, 1387,3 so that even though
Froissart be correct (which is unlikely),4 there is no need to
suppose that Clifford left for Spain until after October, 1386.5
There seems to have been, accordingly, as there had not been
since the date of the Lay de Franchise, an opportunity in
March, 1386, for Deschamps and Clifford to come together.
That they did so meet one cannot from the facts at hand
assert ; but the possibility of a meeting may not be left out
of the account.
Moreover, in June of the same year still another oppor-
tunity should perhaps be recognized. Professor Kittredge
1 Armitage-Smith, op. tit., pp. 309-310 ; Scrope-Grosvenor Roll, i, 49.
2 Scrope-Grosvenor Moll, I, 183 ; Beltz, Memorials of the Order of the Garter,
p. 263.
3 See Modern Philology, I, 4.
4 "Froissart' s account of the Galician campaign is simply hopeless.
Chronology and topography are nothing to him. The Marshal takes a
town in the heart of Leon, and goes back to Santiago to dinner ! It is
curious that Froissart should have made such a muddle of it, for he was at
Foix in 1388, where there were eye-witnesses to question, and Joao Fernan-
des Pacheo, who told him about it at Middleburgh a few years later, was in
a position to know." Armitage-Smith, op. tit., p. 321 n.
5 It may be mentioned (though of course the argumentum ex silentio has
only corroboratory value in such a case) that Clifford's name does not occur
in the lists of those to whom letters of protection were issued in connection
with the expedition. See Eymer, vn, 490-91, 499-501, 508 ; Col. Pat.
Rolls. Rich. II, 1385-89, pp. 139, 160, 164, 191-93, 198, 209, 213, 250,
276, 309.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 767
has already called attention to the fact that at that time Sir
Thomas Clifford, son of Roger Lord Clifford, challenged
Boucicault the younger to certain feats of arms.1 It was
with this same Sir Thomas Clifford, probably a near kins-
man, that Sir Lewis Clifford had helped to hold Carlisle against
the French the previous autumn,2 and that he should have
accompanied the challenging knight to France is not an
unreasonable conjecture. The tourney took place at Calais,
before William de Beauchamp,3 and who constituted the
party of Boucicault we are not told. The incident, however,
is of value as showing that during the early part of 1386
such communication was for the time restored between Eng-
land and France as might readily afford occasion, whether
at the hands of Clifford or of some one else, for the passage
of the poem across the channel.
But there the opportunities seem sharply to break off.
The formidable preparations at 1'JCcluse for the French
invasion of England ; 4 the terror of the Londoners, who,
"timidi velut lepores, meticulosi ut mures, requirunt hinc
inde divortia, perscrutantur latebras;"5 the counter prepara-
tions on the part of England6 — put further amenities out
of the question for months to come. Deschamps appears as
an uncompromising enemy of England, and an enthusiastic
advocate of the proposed invasion :
Passons la mer, ou, j'apperpoy trop bien,
Sanz paix avoir, nous aurons guerre, guerre.7
1 Modern Philology, I, 11 ; Kymer, vii, 526 ; Livre des Faicte du bon Mes-
sire Jean le Maingre, dit Boucicault, Pt. I, Ch. XIV ( Oollec. des Memoires, ed.
Pettitot, xvi, pp. 413-16 ; Memoires, ed. Michaud and Ponjoulat, n, 226).
2 Rotul-i Scotiae, n, 75 (29 Oct., 1385) and passim; Gal, Pat. Rolls. Eich.
II, 1381-85, pp. 518 (26 Jan., 1385), 527 (16 Dec., 1384).
8 Livres des Faicts, loc. cit.
*See Wallon, op. cit., I, 280 ff. and references.
6 Walsingham, Hist. Angl., n, 145, cf. 147.
6 Wallon, op. cil., I, 287 ff.
7 No. 48 (i, 136-37) ; cf. Oeuvres, xi, 50.
768 JOHN L. LOWES.
The "terre Angelique" of the Chaucer balade is given a
characteristic turn :
Las ! toy, terre gouverne'e d'enfans !
Visaige d' ange portez ; mais la pensee
De diable est en vous toudis sorlissans ....
Destruiz serez, Grec diront et Latin :
Ou temps jadis estoit ci Angleterre. l
The poet prepares, with mingled feelings, to accompany the
expected invasion :
L'yver est grant, la mer est ample,
Les vens sont grief,
he exclaims.2 And so : *
Adieu la terre ou 1'en puet reposer,
Douce eaue aussy, adieu ! 3
But the dominant note is that of the balade on the Prophecy
of Merlin :
Selon de Brut de 1'isle des Geans
Qui depuis fut Albions appele"e,
Peuple maudit, tardis en Dieu creans,
Sera 1'isle de tous poins desolee ; *
to which is joined vehement counsel to avoid delay :
Princes, passez sanz point de demoure"e :
Vostres sera le pays d' Angleterre ;
Autre fois Pa un Norman t conquest^ :
Vaillant cuer puet en tous temps faire guerre.5
This mood seems to have lasted until the shameful fiasco in
December of 1386, when the French fleet turned back;
whereupon Deschamps's ready invectives were launched
1 No. 211 (n, 33-34) ; cf. Oeuvres, xi, 50, 98, n. 1. See the other balades
on the same theme referred to in Vol. XI, 49 ff.
2 No. 1060 (v, 351-52).
8 No. 798 (iv, 309).
4 No. 211 (n, 33).
6 No. 1145 (vi, 73-74), quoted by Kaynaud in Oeuvres, xi, 50-51. See
the other references there given.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 769
against the " Lasches, couars, recreans et faillis " l of his
own country as well.
Into the details beyond this point it seems unnecessary to
go. Suffice it to say that the hostilities continued until early
in the year 1389, when, on June 18th, a truce was con-
cluded between England and France and their allies until
August 16th, 1392.2 After that there are of course oppor-
tunities in abundance for communication through Clifford
between Deschamps and Chaucer : the tournament of Saint-
Inglevert, where Clifford jousted March 21, 1389 / 90 ;3 the
Barbary expedition of the same year, in which Clifford was
associated with the circle of Deschamps's acquaintances;4
the mission to Paris early in 1391 ;5 and finally the one
occasion where there is positive documentary evidence that
Deschamps and Clifford were together, the negotiations for
peace in April, 1393.6 What conclusion, then, may we
1No. 180 (i, 316-16); cf. especially Oeuvres, xi, 51 for the personal
attack on Deschamps for his freedom of speech, and cf. his own bitter com-
plaint in No. 772 (iv, 270) ; cf. No. 773.
* Rymer, vn, 622 ff., esp. 626.
8 See Kittredge, op. cit., pp. 10-11 for references, and add Livre des Faicts,
Pt. I, Ch. xvii, and the interesting Joules de Saint-Ingelbert, Podme contemp-
orain, in Partie inedite des Chroniques de Saint-Denis, ed. Pichon (Paris,
1864), especially pp. 69-70.
4 Kittredge, op. cit., p. 11. Clifford seems to have returned to England
after the tournament, which lasted thirty days, for Froissart (ed. Kervyn,
xiv, 150-51) speaks of the Englishmen as all returning together. The Earl
of Derby was at Calais from May 9th to May 31st, with the intention (later
changed) of joining the expedition (Toulmin-Smith, Derby Accounts, p.
xxxix), and Clifford was picked up at Calais (Cabaret, Chron. du bon Due
Lays de Bourbon, ed. Chazaud, p. 222). The expedition started back at the
end of September, 1390 (Delaville le Koulx, La France en Orient au XIV6
Siecle, i, 194). In April, 1390, and again at the close of the same year,
then, we know Clifford to have passed from France to England.
5 Kittredge, on. cii. , p. 10, and references.
•The CompUiint de VEglise (vn, 293-311) is dated by Deschamps April
13, 1393, and the Epilogue reads : Ceste epistre fist et compila Eustace des
Champs, dit Morel, au traiciie de la paix dea .II. rots de France et de Angle-
terre, estans pour lors a Lolinghem, etc. From Kymer, vn, 738-39 we know
that Clifford was one of the English commissioners.
7
770 JOHN L. LOWES.
draw from this long and somewhat dreary rehearsal of the
facts?.
Were nothing else involved, the period beginning with
the Saint-Inglevert tourney might well be regarded as
offering the most favorable opportunity for the despatch
of the balade and its accompanying poems from Deschamps
to Chaucer. Two considerations, however, run counter to
this conclusion. In the first place, we have seen 1 that in all
probability Deschamps knew of Chaucer as early as the
autumn of 1384, an inference which, taken in connection
with the otherwise curious fact that the balade seems to
show acquaintance only with the translation of the Romance
of the Rose among Chaucer's works, renders so late a date
as 1390 or thereafter very unlikely. But it is far more
important to note, in the second place, that, whether knowl-
edge of the Lay de Franchise reached Chaucer through
Clifford or through some other source, the B-version of the
Prologue was, as we may safely infer both from general
considerations and from its special relation to the Book of
Cupid,2 written some little time before the date of Sir John
Clanvowe's departure on the Barbary expedition, in the
spring of 1390. We are compelled, therefore, practically to
throw out of court the period of the three years' truce as
affecting the problem at all.
That leaves us, accordingly, the fact that for almost a year
after the precise day for which the Lay de Franchise was
written England and France were literally at sword's points,
with Deschamps and Clifford during part of the tune engaged
in the actual hostilities, and with no reasonable opportunity
of any sort seeming to present itself for knowledge of such a
poem as the Lay to cross to England. Early in 1386 such
an opportunity does seem to have arisen, during renewed
/Seep. 760. 2 See p. 754.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 771
negotiations for peace; immediately thereafter the prepara-
tions for the French invasion and Deschamps's anti-English
crusade put it out of the question again for at least the
remainder of the year, and hostilities continue until the truce
of Leulingham. All the evidence, therefore, seems to point
to the late spring or the summer of 1386 as the earliest
possible date for the composition of the B-version of the
Prologue. And it may also be said that whatever opportu-
nity for communication there may have been in the following
year (upon which the records apparently throw no light) none
seems probable after the spring or summer of 1386 for at least
the remainder of that year. Accepting, then, the spring, or
more probably the summer or autumn of 1386 l as a pro-
visional date for the B-version of the Prologue, how does it
relate itself to the other considerations involved ?
Its most important bearings will be discussed in a later
section of this paper. Here, however, two other attempts
that have been made on different grounds to determine the
date of B. must be considered. The first depends on a bit
of evidence which brings into the problem a most tantalizing
touch of human interest. Where was Chaucer actually living
when the Prologue was composed, and does he perhaps in it,
with something of the pride of new possession, allude to a
house more to his taste than the one where for the twelve
years previous he had lived, upon the city wall? In the
Academy for December 6th, 1879, Professor J. W. Hales
called attention to the fact that Chaucer's house in Aid-
gate — " totam mansionem supra portam de Algate " 2 —
which had been leased to him in May, 1374,. was granted
by the corporation in October, 1386,3 to one Richard Foster,
1 One needs to guard one's self against the fallacy of supposing that
spring poems are necessarily composed in the spring !
1 Life Records, p. 264..
8 76., loe. cit. The exact date of the lease was 5th October, 1386. There
is no actual record of the surrender. The lease was delivered on 6th No-
vember. See Life Records, pp. xxxiv, 264.
772 JOHN L. LOWES.
" possibly identical with the ' Richard Forrester ' who was
one of Chaucer's proxies when he went abroad for a time
in May, 1378. . . . The Legend of Good Women," Professor
Hales goes on, "was written after he had moved away,
probably very shortly afterwards, likely enough in the spring
or summer of 1386 ; l for, probably enough, he ceased to
reside in the Gate-house a little time before he ceased to be
the lessee. . . . Anyhow — and the remark may be of use
towards settling the date of it — the house he mentions in
The Legend can scarcely have been his tower in Aldgate."
Professor Hales then quotes 11. 197-207 of the B-version
of the Prologue, referring to the " litel herber that I have,"
in connection with the mention of " myn hous." Professor
Skeat 2 also agrees that the remarks about ' myn hous ' " are
inconsistent with the position of a house above a city-gate,"
but in order to avoid the conflict between this fact and the
date to which he has assigned the composition of the Pro-
logue suggests that "if, as is probable, they [i. e., the
remarks about ( myn hous '] have reference to facts, we may
suppose that [Chaucer] had already practically resigned his
house to his friend in 1385, when he was no longer expected
to perform his official duties personally." Professor Hales,
on the other hand, had suggested as Chaucer's motive for
leaving the house the fact that "his parliamentary duties
called for his frequent presence in Westminster " — an expla-
nation on the whole more probable than that he should have
actually vacated his house over a year and a half before the
lease was transferred. The writ for the election of the two
knights of the shire for Kent is dated August 8, 1386,8
and Parliament assembled October 1st. The surrender of
Chaucer's lease in August, then, would certainly be natural
1 Italics mine.
8 Oxford Chaucer, I, xxxviii.
* lAfe Records, p. 261.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 773
enough. One may even surmise that the duties involved in
his full commission, dated June 28, 1386, as Justice of the
Peace for Kent * may possibly have been such as to render a
change of residence advisable. At all events, the detail is an
extremely interesting one, and if Chaucer was in fact refer-
ring to his own house, it seems rather to corroborate the
date for the composition of B. here arrived at on grounds
entirely different from those of Professor Hales. The lion
in the way is, of course, one's grave doubt whether here,
as in the daisy-passage itself, Chaucer may not be giving his
usual verisimilitude to a poetic fancy, for one cannot feel
sure that the "olde bokes" even this time are "a-weye,"
and the if before one's premises must be writ large.
A very elaborate argument for 1385 and 1390 as the
dates of A. and B. respectively, has been constructed by
Mr. Bilderbeck 2 — an argument which, despite one's profound
respect for the scholarly and always suggestive work of its
author, rests on premises which seem to be not only unten-
able in themselves but even more unfortunate in their
implications. The argument is based on the lines 3 in which
Alcestis urges the god of Love to leave his ire and be
"somewhat tretable." "There can be no doubt," Mr.
Bilderbeck assures us, "that, in the lecture on the duties
of a king which Chaucer puts into the mouth of Alcestis, he
is taking advantage of Queen Anne's well-known influence
with the king, in order to convey to him, through her, a
warning or a remonstrance against proceedings on his part
which were calculated to endanger his safety and the peace
of the kingdom." 4 To the lines in question, Mr. Bilderbeck
1 lb., pp. xxxiii, 259. Chaucer had been an " associate " Justice since 12
Oct., 1385 (fl>., pp. xxxiii, 254).
2 J. B. Bilderbeck, Chaucer's Legend of Good Women (London, 1902),
pp. 93 ft.
3 A. 353-375 = B. 373-389.
* Op. cit., p. 94.
774 JOHN L. LOWES.
submits, " it is impossible to concede appositeness. What
has the God of Love got to do with the distinctions
between rich and poor, or the advancement in rank of his
lords? Why should Love, to whom the gods themselves
are sometimes subject, be afraid of any half-goddys? The
arguments and appeals in the .... passage have been
dragged in to the violation of the fitness of things, in
respect either to the character of the God of Love or to the
circumstances of the fable out of which these arguments
and appeals arise."1 But has not the critic in this case,
one is constrained to ask, in his zeal for the acquisition of
chronological data been somewhat blinded to obvious artistic
considerations? For one is forced to protest that the passage,
with its arguments and appeals, is not "dragged in." On
the contrary it is consistent with itself and with what pre-
cedes and follows it. For the sum of Alcestis's appeal at
this point is simply noblesse oblige. It is his subject, his
vassal, with whom the god of Love (Alcestis reminds him)
is dealing — he must remember that ; it is one of his people,
to whom benignity is due : 2
A king to kepe his liges in justyce ;
With-outen doate, that is his offyce.3
True, it is also right and reasonable that he respect the
claims of his lords ; but it is of greater moment that
This shal he doon, bothe to pore [and] riche,
Al be that her estat be nat a-liche,
And han of pore folk compassioun.*
llb., p. 95.
a I am using the A- version at this point, since it is the one from which
Bilderbeck argues.
3 A. 366-67.
* A. 374-76. The subordination of the reference to the lords is still more
distinct in B., through the "al yit" of 11. 384, 388.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 775
This last, line, which contains the conclusion of the whole
matter, Bilderbeck entirely overlooks, closing his quotation
with a period at line 375. "What follows — the concrete
illustration of the lion and the fly — is also left out of
account, so that the very essence of Alcestis's appeal, its
stress on the low degree of the culprit and the consequent
obligation to mercy in the " noble corage " of the one whom
he has offended, is disregarded, and emphasis laid on a sub-
ordinate point. What the god of Love " has ... to do with
the distinction between rich and poor," then, is to recognize
that " of his genterye, Him deyneth nat to wreke him on a
flye." That is the very gist of Alcestis's plea. Nor is there
question in the lines of his being " afraid of any half-goddys"
as Bilderbeck implies. His lords too have their rights,
Alcestis points out; it is reasonable that they be "enhaunced
and honoured and most dere" (for have not the half-gods
claims of rank and kinship alike?), but this man's claim
rests on the very fact that he is not a lord. The premise
on which the whole argument of Bilderbeck depends seems
admissible only if one reads the lines in the light of a
preconceived theory.
" Chaucer's lecture on the duties and responsibilities of a
king," * in A., Bilderbeck assigns to 1385, because in that
year Chaucer could still " convey to the king a strong and
timely hint of the dangers that might attend a blind and
unqualified adhesion to the policy which he seemed disposed
to pursue." 2 That policy was, in the words Bilderbeck
quotes from Stubbs,3 " to raise up a counterpoise to [his
uncles] by promoting and enriching servants of his own,"
and it was the ennobling of de la Pole, " created Earl of
Suffolk on August 6th, 1385," 4 and the fact that " in the
1 Op. <£, p. 98. »/&. p. 99. s/6., p. 96.
* Bilderbeck himself calls attention two pages earlier to the fact that on
the same day on which de la Pole was created Earl of Suffolk the king
likewise created his uncles Edward and Thomas Duke of York and Duke
of Gloucester respectively !
776 JOHN L. LOWES.
same year .... John of Gaunt fortified himself against
arrest in his castle at Pontefract," which " perhaps inspired
the poet's recommendation that the king should 'kepe his
lordys hir degre;' that they should be ' enhaunsede and
honoured * as ' half-goddys ; ' and that he should —
Nat ryghtf ully his yre wreke
Or he haue herd the tother party speke." l
But is not all that, like the other, entirely beside the
point? The god of Love, like a petulant boy, has begun
with a contemptuous reference to a worm as more welcome
hi his presence than the poet,2 and has ended with a threat in
which he so far forgets his dignity as to include the offender
for a second time among old fools.3 With a touch worthy
of the Nun's Priest's Tale Chaucer allows Alcestis (whose
sense of humor has not always descended to her commenta-
tors) to fall into mock heroic vein ; over against the figure
of the captious god of Love, in a pet because a poet has
translated despite of love from old clerks, are all at once
set the redoubtable "tiraunts of Lombardye That usen
wilfulhed and tiraunye." The thing is masterly ; it is
Chaucer through and through.4 And instead of its delicately
1 Op. cit., p. 99.
3 1 am still using the A- version, from which Bilderbeck argues.
3 The sly humor of Alcestis' s opening words: "god, right of your
courtesye" is one of Chaucer's most delicious touches. Though, indeed, on
the hypothesis under discussion one is at a loss to know precisely where to
draw the line. May not Alcestis, who is Queen Anne, be gently reading
the god of Love, who is King Richard, a "lecture" on kingly restraint of
speech? For Richard, if one may believe the chroniclers, often availed
himself in right regal fashion of his prerogatives as " lord of this langage ! "
4 Nothing, indeed, could be more characteristic than the evident zest
with which the figure of Love as a pettish and captious young person is
drawn ; and precisely the tyranny which Alcestis deprecates is animadverted
on by Theseus (A. 1623-26), by Pandare ( Troilus, I, 904-40), and, not to
name others, by Chaucer in his own person :
For al be that I knowe not love in dede,
Ne wot how that he quyteth folk hir hyre,
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 777
humorous incongruity l we are asked to accept " a lecture on
the duties of a king, expressed in tones at once earnest and
solemn," which Chaucer with fine tact puts into the mouth
of the Queen herself, who thus is made to remind her
husband that
Him oghte nat be tiraunt ne cruel,
As is a fermour, to doon the Jiarm he can !
In a word, where the plan and structure of the poem itself,
considered as the work of art which Chaucer indubitably
supposed he was engaged on, adequately account for the
imagined references to matters without its scope,2 the princi-
Yet happeth me ful ofte in bokes rede
Of his miracles, and his cruel yre ;
Ther rede I wel he wol be lord and syre,
I dar not seyn, his strokes been so sore,
But god save swich a lord ! I can no more.
(ParL ofFoules, 11. 8-14. Cf. 11. 1-7 ; Mercttes Beaute, 11. 27-39 ; Envoy to
Scogan, 11. 22-28; etc.).
JIt is interesting to note that Legouis (see below, p. 787, n. 1)
recognized a similar humorous incongruity in another connection. Speak-
ing of Amour's references "aux bons auteurs" in his long speech in A.
268 ff., he writes : " Quelque comique naissait sans doute de la discordance
qu'il y avait entre sa jolie figure et son lourd e"talage d' erudition " (p. 9).
This is, however, he thinks, to the detriment, even to the ruin, of a Pro-
logue till then all grace and all poetic charm.
2 There is a seemingly valid distinction to be made between the Parlement
of Foules and the Prologue, which is possibly of some importance in its
bearing on the subject under discussion. In the Parlement, in the very
nature of the case, one is forced to go outside the poem itself for any
significance it may have over and above the ostensible picture it gives of
the parliament of the birds. That prima facie significance does not in and
for itself justify its elaboration in the poem ; one instinctively looks out-
side it for its real occasion. In the Prologue, on the other hand, the
allegory is in itself "totus, teres atque rotundus" Every detail can be
adequately accounted for by reference to the three central figures in pre-
cisely the characters they purport to have. The burden of proof rests
wholly upon those who import an ulterior significance. The two poems,
in other words, belong to distinct types, and to argue from one to another
involves an initial fallacy.
778 JOHN L. LOWES.
pie of economy itself renders such references extremely
doubtful. And when the acceptance of them involves a
lecture with a sting in its tail/ "breathing," also, "a spirit
of concern and anxiety," 2 delivered — of all men ! — by
Geoffrey Chaucer to his sovereign, the respect emphati-
cally gives us pause.3 It is not — be it distinctly said —
^ilderbeck, op. eit., p. 96. *Ib., p. 108.
3 The uncertainties incident to such a method of interpretation as Bilder-
beck's may be shown in another way. For independent reasons one has ar-
rived at the summer or autumn of 1386 as a probable date for the composition
of B. One turns to Knighton and finds that in the autumn of 1386 the
Parliament (of which Chaucer was then a member) sent to King Kichard
as envoys the Duke of Gloucester and the Bishop of Ely, who were to
inform the King, among other things, that it was his duty to summon a
parliament once a year, ' ' tanquam ad summam curiam totius regni, in qua
omnis aequitas relucere deberet absque qualibet scrupulositate vel nota,
tanquam sol in ascensu meridiei, ubi pauper es et divites pro refrigerio tranquil-
litatis et pacis et repulsiane injuriarum refrigium infallibile quaerere possent,"
etc. (Knighton, II, 217). There at once is Chaucer's "right to pore and
riche." Moreover, the envoys also called attention to the fact that "si rex . . .
nee voluerit per jura regni et statuta ac laudibiles ordinationes cum salubri
eonsilio dominorum et procerum regni gubernari et regulari, sed capitose in suis
insanis consiliis propriam voluntatem suam singularem proterve exercere, extunc
licitum est eis . . . . regem de regali solio abrogare," etc. (Knighton, u,
219). There is also the " keping his lords hir degre;" there is the "tyr-
annye" — to say nothing of the striking parallel in the whole situation as
Knighton gives it. One might, accordingly, with the utmost plausibility
argue that in the autumn of 1386 Chaucer, himself a Member of Parliament,
was in the B-version voicing as a friend the admonition which he feared
would come in sterner form from the king's enemies, whose temper he had
ample opportunity to know.
One recalls, moreover, that there are in A. five lines which Bilderbeck,
with his theory of 1385 as the date of that version, overlooks, although
if any lines in the poem seem to have specific contemporary reference it
is they :
And that him oweth, of verray duetee,
Shewen his peple pleyn benignitee,
And wel to here hir excusaciouns,
And hir compleyntes and peticiouns,
In duewe tyme, whan they shal hit profre
(A. 360-64).
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 779
that oce absurdly denies the possibility of Chaucer's indulg-
ing in references to contemporary events.1 The contention
is simply that such supposed references must first of all be
judged as integral parts of a work of art, and that, further-
more, the characteristics of the poet himself, so far as one
may gather them from his other works, must enter into the
estimate.
There seems, then, to be in the opposing arguments
examined no valid reason for abandoning the date proposed
for the composition of B. — a date not earlier than the late
spring or even the summer of 1386.
These lines do not occur in B. One will recall further that on August 29, •
1393, Richard visited London to be publicly reconciled with the citizens —
an occasion celebrated in a famous Latin poem by Richard de Maidstone
(Wright, Political Poems, Rolls Series, I, 282-300), in which Richard
literally heard the " excusaciouns " of his people, and at the "supplieatio
reyinae pro eisdem civibus" did show them "pleyn benignitee." But, in the
very article of ten Brink whose argument Bilderbeck is attempting to
refute, it will be remembered that ten Brink suggested for A. the possi-
bility of a date scarcely before 1393, or possibly in 1394. Applying
Bilderbeck' s own principle of interpretation, then, one finds in A. what
seems to be an almost startling reference to an event at the close of 1393.
(To Legouis, on the other hand, the scene recalls something else : "Elle
fait penser il 1' intercession de la bonne reine Philippine de HaSnaut en
faveur des pauvres bourgeois de Calais voue"s a la mort par Edouard III.
Plusieurs traits renforcent cette impression : la col&re du dieu calme'e par
Alceste ; 1' allusion au penitent qui implore merci et s' off re 'in his bare
sherte," etc." (op. cit., p. 18). That was in 1347! The riches of the
allusion are somewhat embarrassing). In other words, one may readily
find in the supposed references to contemporary events equally strong argu-
ments (I should myself be inclined to say much stronger ones) for referring
B. and A. respectively to 1386 and 1394, as for Bilderbeck' s suggestion of
1385 and 1390 respectively for A. and B. Bilderbeck's argument proves
too much.
JThat Chaucer's phraseology is possibly, even probably, here and there
more or less reminiscent of the general situation in England for a period
extending over several years (precisely as the phrase "tyrauntsof Lom-
bardye" is reminiscent of well-known foreign affairs) one may readily
admit. But that is a very different thing indeed from the claim that the
whole situation of the poem is to be identified with the situation at the
English court.
780 JOHN L. LOWES.
II.
Is it possible, now, to determine the date of A ? Any
attempt to do so must manifestly take first into account the
couplet of B. in which the Legend is dedicated to the Queen :
And whan this book is maad, yive hit the quene
On my behalf e, at Eltham, or at Shene.1
This is the one direct, explicit, unmistakable reference in
the poem to the Queen, and in A. it is omitted. Why?
Ten Brink suggested two possible reasons : "Als Chaucer
seinen prolog umarbeitete, war entweder sein verhaltniss zu
den majestaten ein derartiges, dass es ihm gerathen schien,
eine zu deutliche anspielung auf fruher genossene gnade zu
Tinterdriicken, oder aber die konigen Anna (f 7. Juni, 1394)
war damals schon nicht mehr am leben." 2 The first reason,
it must be confessed, seems little short of incredible.3 That
an English gentleman should deliberately recall a dedication
to his Queen because he did not stand so high in royal favor
as in earlier days would be hard in any instance to believe ; 4
the possibility that Chaucer himself should commit so gross
a breach of courtesy one may dismiss without hesita-
tion. That leaves ten Brink's second suggestion, which
under ordinary circumstances would seem little more proba-
ble than the first, inasmuch as a poem dedicated in her
lifetime to the Queen would naturally enough remain after
her death a tribute to her memory. But a peculiar circum-
JB. 496-97. *Eng. Stud., xvn, 19.
3 Both Koch (Chronology, p. 85) and Bilderbeck (op. cit., p. 81) call
attention to the improbability of such a reason for the excision of the
couplet, but both overlook entirely the fact that ten Brink had offered an
alternative suggestion.
4Gower'-s change in the dedication of the Confessio Amantis is not, as
Bilderbeck with right points out (op. cit., p. 81), a case in point.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 781
stance already referred to 1 renders it highly probable that —
granted for the moment the existence at the time of the
Queen's death of a well-known poem dedicated to her,
with the addition of an explicit reference to Shene — the
dedication would in the particular case of Queen Anne be
cancelled after her death. For we read in Stow : " The
seuenth of June Queene Anne dyed at Shine in Southery,
and was buryed at Westmiust. The king tooke her death
so heauily, that besides cursing the place where shee dyed,
hee did also for anger throws downe the buildings unto the
which the former kinges beeing wearyed of the Citee, were
wont for pleasure to resort." 2 That a recognition of the
grief which led the half-crazed king to tear down the manor
house at Shene in which the Queen had died, should dictate
the removal from a familiar poem of the lines which, asso-
ciating the living Queen with that very house, must have
recalled too painfully the happier days, is a supposition
which gives an entirely adequate and vividly human motive
for a change otherwise almost inexplicable. If, then, there
should be found independent evidence which points in
general to a somewhat late date for the version, we shall
probably be justified in placing not long after the middle
of 1394 the revision resulting in A.3 And other grounds
1SeePtt4a. Mod. Lang. Asxoc., xix, 671, n. 4.
*Annaies (1615), p. 308; cf. the Monk of Evesham, Historia Vitae et
Reyni Ricardi II (ed. Hearne), p. 125. Beference is made to the incident
in another connection by Bilderbeck, op. cit., p. 84.
•Koeppel's suggestion regarding the revision of the Prologue — "dass
sie namlich als ein missgliickter versuch Chaucer's zu betrachten ist, auch
den prolog und einige der legenden fur das hauptwerk seiner letzten
periode, fur die Canterbury-geschichten zu erwerten (Eng. Stud., xxx,
467; reiterated in Literaturblait, 1893, p. 61) — rests solely upon the
supposed implications of the phrase "or I fro yow fare" of A. 85, which
is, however, a simple narrative commonplace, with no hint whatever of
actually riding away from one's company.
782 JOHN L. LOWES.
for supposing that A. does represent Chaucer's later work
may indeed be pointed out.1
One such piece of evidence seems to be afforded by the
passages in A. which refer to Chaucer's age.2 Regarding
these references the first point to be considered is the ques-
tion of fact. What, in a word, actually constituted old age
in Chaucer's day ? The prime essential to an understanding
is to divest one's mind entirely of modern preconceptions in
the case. " We must " as Professor Skeat has said in
1 It is also worth noting that on July 12th, 1394, Froissart, after twenty-
seven years' absence, landed in England, led by an overmastering desire to
see the country once more. With him he brought, as he says, a book
to present to the King : ' ' Et avoie de pourv&ince fait escripre, grosser et
enluminer et fait recueillier tous les traitti^s amoureux et de moralite" que
ou terme de xxxiiii ans je avoie par le grace de Dieu et d' amours fais et
compiles" (ed. Kervyn, xv, 141). After trying in vain to obtain audi-
ence with the King at Canterbury, whither Richard had come to make his
•pilgrimage on his return from Ireland, and after several rather pathetic
disappointments, he found at last at Eltham his own and Chaucer's old
friend Sir Eichard Stury, with whom he talked much, " en gambiant les
galleries de 1'ostel a Eltem ou il faisoit moult bel et moult plaisant et
umbru, car icelles galleries pour lors estoient toutes couvertes de vignes."
Through Sir Richarjl Stury the old chronicler and poet was at last informed
that the King was^anxious to see his book. " Si le vey en sa chambre, car
tout pourveu je 1' avoie, et luy mis sur son lit. II 1'ouvry et regarda ens,
et luy pleut trSs-grandement et bien plaire luy devoit, car il estoit enlu-
mine', escript et historic et couvert de vermeil velours & dix clous attachies
d' argent dor& et roses d'or ou milieu, a deux grans frumans dore"s et riche-
ment ouvre*s ou milieu de roses d'or. Adont me demanda le roy de quoy
il traittoit. Je luy dis : ' D' amours.' " How the king was greatly pleased
with this reply, and how he had the book carried to his "chambre de
retraite," Froissart goes on to tell (ed. Kervyn, xv, 167). Is it not at least
possible that Chaucer, hearing through their common friend of the return
of this one of his old "lovers that can make of sentement" and of the
gift to the King of the volume, part of which he knew so well, may have
thus had called to his mind with double force the earlier poem ? It is only
a possibility, but it seems worthy of a moment's entertainment.
8 A. 258-63, 315, 400-401.
THE LEGEND OP GOOD WOMEN. 783
another connection,1 "if we really wish to ascertain the
truth without prejudice, try to bear in mind the fact that,
in the fourteenth century, men were deemed old at an age
which we should now esteem as almost young." Few more
striking statements of this mediaeval point of view could
well be found than those in Deschamps. Pope Innocent III,
commenting in the De Contemptu Mundi on the Psalmist's
limit of seventy years, had said : " Pauci nunc ad .xl., pau-
cissiini ad .lx. annos perveniunt." 2 On this limit of sixty
years Deschamps bases the thirteenth section of his Double
Lay de la Fragility humaine — "De la Briefte" de PAage : " 3
A bien vous amesurez,
Que .LX. ans ne durez,
— Pou passent oultre le sueil —
Dont vint ans mescognoissiez,
Dix ans vous esjouissiez,
Dix ans dittes : " L' avoir cueil,"
Dix ans dittes : uJe me duett"
Dix ans estes rassotez
Et mains qu'enfans devenez,
Qu'on couche en un bersueil.
i>
This surrender to old age of the two decades from forty to
sixty one finds over and over again in Deschamps.4 Espe-
1 Oxford Chaucer, I, xvi. To the instances there given add those on
p. 86 of the same volume, and compare Vollmer, The Boke of Cupide,
p. 55. See, too, Lounsbury's discussion (Studies, I, 48 ff. ) of the statement
in the Pricke of Conscience (11. 764-65) that
Fone men may now fourty yhere pas,
And foner fifty, als it somtym was.
*See Oeuvres de Deschamps, n, 265. 3Ib., n, 264.
4 For this same division of the sixty years see Nos. 25 (i, 104), 321 (m,
14), 675 (rv, 134), 1450 (vra, 135). The limit of sixty years is set,
without division into decades, in Nos. 134 (i, 258), 198 (n, 17), 330 (in,
33), 565 (iv, 23). For part of these references I am indebted to Eaynaud
in Oeuvres, xi, 96, 146. One must not confuse this mediaeval attitude with
the later conventional device, on the part of youthful sonneteers, of feign-
ing old age ; cf. Sidney Lee, William Shakspeare, pp. 85, 86.
784 JOHN L. LOWES.
cially is the decade from fifty to sixty painted, as above, in
gruesome colors :
Autres .x. ans languereux, orphenin,
Vieulx, decrepiz ; mort nous met en sa fonde ;
L'umeur deffault et nous ch4ent li crin.1
So, in balade No. 191 2 we are told that
Depuis c'uns horns a passe" cinquante ans,
Sanz lui armer se tiengne en sa maison,
S'il a de quoy, ne voist plus par les champs ;
De reposer doit querir sa saison,
Vivre de sien, et user par raison
Des biens acquis loyaument, et non prandre
Les biens d'autrui, car c'est grant desraison :
Bonne vie fait a bonne fin tendre.
Ce temps passe, devient chanuz et blans
Par viellesce horns, s'a mainte passion,
Doleur de chief, froidure, goute es flans ;
De s'ame doit avoir compassion,
Penser a Dieu, querir remission
De ses pechiez, etc.3
1No. 321, 11. 33-35 (in, 15) ; cf. especially in the last stanza of No.
1450 (vm, 136).
2 n, 8, 9.
3Cf. No. 297 (rr, 156). For a woman old age began much earlier. See,
for example, in the " Lamentations d'une dame sur la perte de sa jeunesse,"
No. 535 (ra, 373-74), such lines as the following :
Vint et cinq ans dura ma jeune flours,
Mais a trente ans fu ma coulour mu£e.
Lasse ! languir vois ou desert d' amours :
Car man chief blont en eel cage trouvay
Blanc et merle. . . .
Ha ! Viellesce, par toy sui efface'e.
With this, which should be read entire for its full effect, one may compare
the parallel passage in No. 305 (n, 187), 11. 165 ff. :
Qui m'a si tost amene*
Et donne"
xxx. ans f Mon aage est fine"
De jeunesce ; ay cuit mon pain ;
Viellesce d' ui a demain
<V a tout mon bon temps casse.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 785
Nor is Deschamps merely painting an imaginary state of
things. Under date of September 17, 1385, in the Calendar
of Patent Rolls, for instance, is entered "exemption, for life,
in consideration of his great age, of Gilbert Bouge, who is
over 60, from being put on assizes, juries, attaints or recog-
nizances," etc., etc.1 So far, then, as the general boundaries
of the period of old age in the fourteenth century are con-
cerned, the case is a clear one.
Now it must be remembered that on Chaucer's own
testimony in the Scrope-Grosvenor trial he was in October,
1386, " del age de xl ans et plus " 2 — a statement which has
usually been assumed to imply the age of about forty-six.3
At the time of the composition of the first version of the
Prologue, accordingly, he had not yet reached the fatal
decade from fifty to sixty ; after 1390 he was within its
limits. Nor are we without specific testimony on the point.
For somewhere between the beginning of the year 1390,
during which the earliest form of the Confessio Amantis was
completed,4 and the middle of June, 1391, when the new
epilogue was substituted for the old,5 appeared Gower's
famous advice to Chaucer, put into the mouth of Venus at
the close of the Confessio itself:
And gret wel Chaucer whan ye mete,
As mi disciple and mi poete :
For in the floures of his youthe
In sondri wise, as he wel couthe,
Of Ditees and of songes glade,
1 Col. Pat. Eotts Rich. II, 1385-89, p. 95.
* Scrope-Orosvenor Boll, I, 178; Life Records, p. 265, cf. liii ; cf. aTscr
Skeat, Oxford Chaucer, I, xxxvii.
3 So Bond, in Life Records, p. 102 ; cf. Skeat, Oxford Chaucer, I, xv-xvi ;
Koch, Chronology, p. 2, etc.
* Macaulay, The Works of John Gower, n, xxi.
6Ib., xxii. Professor Macaulay has shown the previous conjectures,
regarding the dates of composition and revision to be worthless.
8
786 JOHN L. LOWES.
The whiche he for mi sake made,
The lond fulfild is overal :
Wherof to him in special
Above alle othre I am most holde.
For thi now in hise dales olde
Thow schalt him telle this message,
That he upon his latere age,
To selte an ende of alle his werk,
As he which is myn owne clerk,
Do make his testament of love,
As thou hast do thi schrifte above,
So that mi Court it mai recorde.1
Gower's lines, accordingly, at least make clear the apposite-
ness of references to Chaucer's advancing age in 1390 or
later. So much for the facts.
As for the interpretation thereof, the best authority would
doubtless be Chaucer himself, could he but be fairly called
into court. And something not far from that seems to be
really possible. Ten Brink years ago referred to the Envoy
to Scogan as indicating that " der dichter etwa seit dem jahre
1393 dieses thema ohne scheu .... beriihrt."2 He did
not, however, call attention to what is even more signifi-
cant— the fact, namely, that Chaucer's reference to his age
in the Envoy is, as in the A-version of the Prologue,
connected with an oifense against the god of Love, and
expresses in Chaucer's own person the same humorous
x recognition of Cupid's contempt for "alle hem that ben
hore and rounde of shape" which in A. is put, in the
stronger terms demanded by the dramatic situation, into
the mouth of the god of Love himself. That is to say, in
a poem which we can almost certainly place late in 1393 we
find such a reference to Chaucer's age as is not only in
keeping with the general mediaeval acceptance of its limits,
but also in striking accord with the A-version of the Pro-
1 Works (ed. Macaulay), in, 466 (Bk. VIH, 11. 2941*-2957*).
2 Englische Studien, XVII, 14.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 787
logue, which independent evidence has led us to date about
the middle of 1394. The "old age passages" are, accord-
ingly, to say the very least, not inconsistent with a date
approximating that of the Envoy to Scogan.
Moreover, the reference to the " olde foles " heightens
appreciably the dramatic quality of the Prologue. Regarding
the absence from B. of this same mention of the poet's age Pro-
fessor Legouis holds, it is true, " que le personnage d' Amour
gagne a 1'omission en consistance, et le prologue entier en
po6sie." But as regards consistency, what is the fundamental
note in the characterization of the god of Love ? Even in B. is
it sweet reasonableness ? Suppose now that about 1394 Chaucer
for some reason did come back to his earlier poem. What dif-
ference would his preoccupation meantime with the Canter-
bury Tales, so far as one may judge from their qualities, have
made in his point of view ? For one thing, he would cer-
1 Quelfut le premier compose par Chaucer des deux prologues de la Legende des
Femmes Exemplaires f (Le Havre, 1900. ), p. 10. Through the courtesy both
of Professor Legouis himself and also of Professor Kaluza, this important
essay has been made accessible to me. One wishes it were possible to agree
as heartily with the conclusions of Professor Legouis' s extremely able paper,
as with the fundamental principle it enunciates : " N'entendons pas par lit
qu'il [Chaucer] se soit pr&accupe" de fournir & ses future biographes un plus
grand nombre de renseignements sur la vie et ses osuvres, mais qu'il a, en vrai
poete, retouche* le plan pour lui donner le plus de cohesion et d' harmonic
possible ; que, s'il a modifie" des vers particuliers, c'est afin de les rendre
plus clairs, plus expressifs et plus beaux" (p. 4). But the two alterna-
tives which Professor Legouis states are those of a revision undertaken in
the poet's decline (p. 4), which he rejects, and a revision which almost
immediately followed the first composition (p. 18), which he accepts. This
fails, however, to take into account a third possibility : namely, that the revi-
sion was undertaken at a period not of declining, but of heightened, powers —
powers, however, whose direction and emphasis had meantime somewhat
changed, so that from their exercise upon the earlier work there resulted
a certain inevitable loss as well as a no less inevitable gain. For the
present contention is not that the superiority of A. to B. holds absolutely at
every point, but that A. bears unmistakable marks of a revision by a matu-
rer, a firmer, a more sparing hand.
788 JOHN L. LOWES.
tainly have a stronger prepossession in favor of compactness
of structure, and that, as we have already seen,1 A. shows.
But with equal certainty, I think, we may assume that to the
man who had conceived the vivid contrasts of the Wife of
Bath and the Clerk of Oxford, of Harry Bailly and the
Prioress, of the " chanoun of religioun " and the London
priest, the possibility of dramatic contrasts would be like-
ly to make the first appeal. And the heightening of the
contrast between the petulance and extravagance of the god
of Love and the humorous tolerance and entire sweetness
with which Alcestis, woman fashion, brings the offended
deity to terms, is in perfect keeping with such a point of
view. The lines themselves, too, besides accomplishing this,
hit off delightfully Chaucer's own often boasted aloofness —
the coolness of his wit — where there is question of loving
par amours, while the sly malice of the god's suggestion of
the true motive serves to give keener point to Alcestis's
allusions to his cruelty. As for the loss in " poSsie " one
would have to define terms carefully before hazarding a
reply. Thus much, however, seems pretty clear : that if
by "po&sie" one understands here the quality one feels in
what Professor Legouis has himself aptly called " un Pro-
logue [B] qui Stait jusqu'ici toute grace et tout charme
poStique," 2 one must frankly admit that the other version does
sometimes speak of something that is gone. But therein lies,
perhaps, the strongest argument for the later date of the possibly
less charming, less graceful, but certainly more compact,
more dramatic, version. For where in the later Tales does
one find the charming looseness of structure, the abandon,
the lavish use of all the poet's wealth which one finds, let us
say, in the Parkment of Foules? The fault of Legouis's
admirable treatment of the problem is not that it attempts to
lPubs. Mod. Lang. Assoc., xix, 658 ff. * Op. cit., p. 9.
THE LEGEND OP GOOD WOMEN. 789
judge the matter on purely artistic grounds, for that is its
most welcome contribution to a discussion not wholly free
from pedantry. It is, if one may venture the criticism, that
it perhaps fails to recognize that an artist, as an artist,
does not stand still ; l that the same problem will be
approached by him at different periods from different angles ;
and that, in a world where every gain finds loss to match,
one is compelled to weigh not only the fact of losses but the
significance of their character as well. Gains and losses
alike, then, in the A-version of the Prologue seem to point
to a period well on in Chaucer's poetic development.2
1 Legouis does believe of Chaucer that "le ge"nie poe"tique suivit tin
progres constant jusque'au jour ou la plume lui tomba des maines" (op.
cit., p. 4). But his view that the two Prologues fall in the same year,
"tr6s rapproche"es " (see 16., p. 18), prevents his application to the present
problem of the principle involved.
1 Bilderbeck has offered the extremely interesting suggestion that Grower1 s
message to Chaucer, already quoted, was the cause of the elimination, in
1390, of the "old age passages" in A. "Whether Chaucer took offense
is an open question," he concludes, "but there can be little doubt that he
recognized the reductio ad absurdum of the position in which Gower had
placed him, and his recognition of this probably reinforced his determina-
tion to eliminate all references to old age which his artistic sense also
condemned" (op. cit,, p. 106 ; cf. the fuller statements on pp. 105-6). If
the lines in the Prologue have any direct connection with the passage at
the close of the Confessio — something of which one may entertain no small
doubt — is it not far more in keeping with Chaucer's character that they
should have been added, in the spirit of the Canacee passage of the Man
of Law's head-link, as a sly retort upon his friend? Venus' s advice to
Chaucer, it will be recalled, is that he
Do make his testament of love,
As thou hast do thi schrifte above.
In other words, like Gower and for the same reason — namely, that
.... loves lust and lockes hore
In chambre acorden neveremore,
And thogh thou feigne a yong corage,
It scheweth wel be the visage
That olde grisel is no fole (2403-7)—
790 JOHN L. LOWES.
There is a further consideration, involving the translation
of the De Contemptu Mundi, which seems to point to a date
for the revision somewhere in the period of the Canterbury
Tales. On the brink of the dismal arguments built up about
the still more dismal treatise of Pope Innocent one lingers
shivering. For the view that the translation " of the Wreched
Engendring of Mankinde, As man may in pope Innocent
Chaucer is exhorted to "made a plein reles To love" (see, for Gower's use
of " testament, "\as above, in the sense of last will, Confessio, vii, 3860 ; Praise
of Peace, 177) . For Gower's shrift, which Chaucer is thus to supplement, is,
as the priest's specific words make clear (2895-96), precisely his confession
that he is " unbehovely Your Court fro this day forth to serve " (2884-85),
and his prayer : "I preie you to ben excused" ( 2888). If one turn, now,
to the A-version of the Prologue, one finds in the first threat of the god
of Love the lines :
Although [that\ thou reneyed hast my lay,
As other -e oldefoles many a day,
Thou shalt repente hit, that hit shall be sene (314-16),
to which Alcestis later replies, in a couplet that does not occur in B. :
Whyl he was yong, he kepte your estat ;
I not wher he be now a renegat (400-401).
That is to say, the god of Love is characterizing, in the two lines italicized,
precisely such an attitude as that of Gower ("olde foles" in A. having
replaced " wreches han don " of B. ) ; while Alcestis — in two lines which sum
up, the first by affirmation, the second by implied denial, the two parts of the
message of Venus to Chaucer, with its admission of early service (11. 2943*-
49*) and its implication that his day, for her, was done (11. 2950*-57*) —
refuses to admit its application to Chaucer. "When one remembers, now,
that in the Man of Law's head-link, in direct connection with a long and
explicit reference to the Legend (B. 60-76), occurs what is generally con-
ceded to be a good-natured fling at Gower (B. 77-89), the possibility in the
case of the Prologue of a clever reference, in perfect good humor, to
Gower's not altogether tactful assumption that Chaucer and he were in
similar parlous case may perhaps be admitted. I confess to thinking any
connection between the two poems extremely doubtful. If there be one,
however, it is sufficiently ambiguous to warrant the contention that it points
quite as much to the insertion as to the rejection of the "olde age
passages" after 1390.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 791
y-finde " belongs to Chaucer's later period there is, indeed, I
am convinced, sufficient ground. But the specific reasons
hitherto urged for this opinion by those who have argued for
the late date of A., I find myself entirely unable to accept.
For they rest upon what, rightly or wrongly, seems to me
an altogether unwarranted assumption : namely, that when
a poet's outward circumstances are adverse, this state of
things will inevitably be reflected in his work. To mark
out, accordingly, the ebb and flow of his fortunes ; to classify
his poems according as they are grave or gay ; to ascribe the
grave to the ebb, the gay to the flow — such is the neat
formula which gives, it must be admitted, no less precise
results. But it smacks of the scholar's pigeon-holes rather
than of insight into life, and seems particularly to ignore the
cardinal fact that it has to do with Geoffrey Chaucer. We
are asked to believe with Koeppel1 that as a result of
Chaucer's unhappy circumstances after the close of 1386 he
devoted himself to achieving intimate acquaintance not only
with Pope Innocent's Liber de vilitate oonditionis humanae
naturae, but also with the Treatise on the Seven Deadly Sins,
with the Liber consolationis et consilii of Albert of Brescia,
and with St. Jerome, and that we enter upon " eine langere
PeriodedichterischerErschopfung, dichterischen Stillstandes."
Ten Brink solemnly assures us that the straits in which
Chaucer at this same time found himself were able " seine
Lebenslustauf eineWeile [zu] dampfen, auf kurze Zeit sogar den
Humor von seiner Seite [zu] verscheuchen ; " that " der welt-
frohe Dichter fuhlte sich zu ernster Betrachtung, zu erneuter
Einkehr in seine innere Welt veranlasst ; und fur's erste mag
seine Stimmung wiederum eine entschieden religiose Farbung
angenommen haben ; " 2 and he connects the translation of the
De Contemptu with the knowledge of poverty thus gained.3
1 Literaturblatt, 1893, p. 54. 2 Ocschichte, n, 123-24.
3Eng. Stud., xvn, 22.
792 JOHN L. LOWES.
That retirement to the solace of the Seven Deadly Sins, that
banishment of even his sense of humor, that period of poetic
exhaustion, because of a turn in his fortunes, we are expected
to ascribe to the man who wrote of Fortune herself the ring-
ing lines :
But natheles, the lak of her favour
Ne may nat don me singen, though I dye,
'lay tout perdu mon temps et man labour : '
For fynally, Fortune, I thee defye ! —
the man who put in Fortune's own mouth the words :
No man is wrecched, but him-self hit wene,
And he that hath him-self hath suffisaunce.
What had he on earth to do (one feels like asking in a fellow
poet's, not a critic's, phrase) with the aimless, helpless, hope-
less— being — Geoffrey Chaucer ? Is it not far more in keep-
ing with the character of the man who never wrote with
more delicate humor than in the lines dispatched to Scogan
from the " solitary wildernesse " where he lay forgotten at
the end of the stream,1 to suppose that the enforced release
from business, accompanied by poverty though it may have
been, was welcomed as the long awaited opportunity to carry
out larger plans ? Surely Professor Skeat's view that " the
years 1387 and 1388 were .... the most active time of
his poetical career " 2 is more likely to be in accordance with
the facts.3 At all events, whatever reasons there may be
for placing the translation of the De Contemptu Mundi in
1 Compare, too, the Compleint to his Empty Purse.
2 Oxford Chaucer, I, xxxix.
3 Perhaps, on the whole, the best corrective to such conjectures as those
of Koeppel and ten Brink would be to construct a theoretical chronology
of the writings of Thomas Hood, based on the axiom that humor and
prosperity go hand in hand, and humbly submit it to the castigation of the
facts.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 793
Chaucer's later period, the assumption of its semi-autobio-
graphic character needs careful scrutiny.1
A far stronger argument for the late date of the transla-
tion appears by implication in ten Brink's discussion,2 and
rests on the distribution of the fragments of the treatise in
Chaucer's own work. For, naturally enough, the question
of Chaucer's motive in mentioning the treatise will not
down. That it was his intention, as Koeppel has suggested,
to complete up to date the catalogue of his works3 seems
scarcely probable. Believing it, as Koeppel does, to be so,
his recourse to italics in what follows is readily intelligible :
" was hdtte den dichter abhalten konnen, auch [die geschichte
der Constanze] in die liste des prologs aufzunehmen ? " 4
What indeed? The obvious conclusion seems to be that
Chaucer did not intend in A. to complete the catalogue of
his works — particularly since he added only one ! Why,
then, should he have named that? An answer which at
least tallies perfectly with what we know of Chaucer's
practice in other instances is : Because he happened to have
it fresh in mind — presumably from having been recently
busied with it. But clearly he was also busied with it in
some fashion when he wrote the Man of Law's head-link
and the Pardoner's Tale, as well as when he wrote or modi-
fied the Man of Law's Tale — possibly also when the Wife
of Bath's Prologue was composed.5 That the various poems
1 Koch likewise believes that Chaucer had given way to ascetic feelings
when he made the translation, but, also believing A. to be the earlier
version, he places the Wrecked Engendring with the Life of St. Cecily in 1374
(Chron., pp. 28-29, 78). It would of course be equally extreme to deny
in tola the thesis that a writer's fortunes may be more or less reflected in
his work. So wholesale a disclaimer would find its refutation in any one
of a score of instances. What gives one pause is the confident erection
into a general principle of a matter of individual temperament.
*Eng. Stud., xvn, 21. *2b., p. 198. * Loc. cit.
5 Perhaps one line of the Monk's Tale (B. 3199) is to be assigned here.
It is interesting — in its bearing on ten Brink's theory that the original
794 JOHN L. LOWES.
which show in one way or another that the De Contemptu
was in Chaucer's mind when they were written should
belong to approximately the same general period, seems,
if not certain, at least a natural and probable infer-
ence.1
\
But why, the question keeps intruding itself, should
Chaucer have begun translating it at all ? . There is a
possible answer which, so far as I know, has never been
suggested, yet which has at least analogy in its favor.
Chaucer's translation of whatever pious tract it be that,
combining Raymund of Pennaforte and Guilielmus Peraldus,
underlies the Parson's Tale,2 together with his translation of
Albertano of Brescia's Liber Consolationis, find a place (the
former in particular most aptly) in the Canterbury Tales.
Is it not at least possible that Chaucer may have likewise
intended his version of Pope Innocent for one of the
Canterbury pilgrims? That is perhaps more likely than
that it was an act of personal mortification on Chaucer's
part — though indeed that he had found the translation of
Pcdamon and Arcite was in 7-line stanzas, because the fragments of the
Teseide in the Parlement and the Troilus so appear — to observe that the frag-
ments of the De Contemptu are in 7-line stanzas (in the Man of Law's
Prologue and Tale) and decasyllabic couplets (in the Pardoner's Tale),
while the original version was in prose ! In other words, the material is
given the metre of the poem in which it happens to be inserted, without
reference to its original form. That, indeed, is what common sense would
lead one to suppose, were common sense always allowed to influence the
consideration of such problems. Even more to the point is it to observe
that on ten Brink's hypothesis the lines from the Filostrato in the Prologue
to the Legend would force us to the acceptance of a proto- Troilus in deca-
syllabic couplets.
1 It should be observed, moreover, that the Pardoner's Tale and the Wife
of Bath's Prologue are linked with the A-version on another side — through
their common borrowings from Jerome ageyns Jovynyan and from Valerie.
See esp. Koeppel, AngliatlS.' F., i, 174ff.
2See Miss Petersen's The Sources of the Parson' s Tale (Boston, 1901).
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 795
it penance enough to warrant his having "now .... the
lesse peyne," any one who has read but the opening pages
of its fierce misanthropy can readily believe.1
It is perhaps even possible to go one step farther and
venture, though with the utmost diffidence, a conjecture
regarding the particular member of the company for whom the
translation may have been intended. Consider for a moment the
Man of Law's head-link. The Man of Law is certain that
he " can right now no thrifty tale seyn." Chaucer, in fact,
has said them all — the stories of "thise noble wyves and
thise loveres eke," examples of wifehood like Penelope
and Alcestis (though no such cursed stories, to be sure,
as those of Canace and Apollonius of Tyre). For to the
Man of Law "the knotte why that every tale is told"
seems to be mainly its bent to edification. Moreover,
he is puzzled about the form his tale shall take, and ex-
tremely averse to being by any chance mistaken for a Muse :
But of my tale how shal I doon this day ?
Me were looth be lykned, doutelesse,
To Muses that men clepe Pierides —
Metamorphoseos wot what I mene.
And so, he declares,
I speke in prose, and lat him rymes make.
1 Even Deschamps, whom one can easily imagine revelling in its gloomy
pages, seems to have been unable to finish it. For it is worth noting that
on April 18, 1383, Deschamps presented to Charles VI a translation ( more
accurately, a paraphrase) of parts of the De Contemptu under the title of
Lime de laFragilitc d'umaine Nature ( Oeuvres, II, 237-305). His selections
are made from the following chapters ( Bonn edition) : i, 1-10, 12-14, 16-17,
19, 22-24, 29 ; n, 1, 6, 29 ; m, 1, 11, 15-17. Chaucer's fragments are from
I, 1 (?), 16, 18, 22, 23 ; n, 17, 18, 19, 21 (see Koeppel, loc. tit.). It is of
course a bare possibility that Deschamps' s Double Lay de la Fragility humaine
was included among the poems he sent to Chaucer, in which case it may
have given to Chaucer the suggestion for his own translation of the work.
For other translations of the treatise, see the bibliographical notes to Le Passe
Temps de tout Homme et de toute Femme, in Oeuvres poetiques de Ouillaume
Alexis (Soc. de Anc. Textes fr. ) , n, 71 ff.
796 JOHN L. LOWES.
That Chaucer actually intended, when the head-link was
written, to put a prose preachment of some sort into the
Man of Law's mouth admits little doubt. That it was not
originally the story of Constance which he was to tell,
follows, it seems clear, from the fact that her history is one
of those very stories of " noble wyves " regarding which the
Man of Law asks :
What sholde I tellen hem, sin they ben tolde ?
Just at this time, however, as appears from the Prologue to
the Seintes Legende of Oupyde itself, Chaucer seems to have
been working over a prose translation of a tract quite sombre
enough to satisfy even the Man of Law. And what the
Man of Law actually begins with is a prologue taken
bodily from this very work, while fragments of it appear
here and there in the tale he does really tell. If Chaucer
began, then, his prose translation with the Man of Law in
mind ; if he soon found it too much for even his own robust
taste ; if he substituted as the next best thing the story of
Constance, in all likelihood composed before ; if, however,
a bit of the original material, offering a rather apt introduc-
tion to the account of the merchants with which the tale
begins, occurred to him as a fitting prologue, while other bits
were called to. mind as, pen in hand, he went once more
over the poem — if one make these assumptions, one seems at
least with some plausibility to account for several rather
puzzling features of the situation as it stands. Be that, how-
ever, as it may, the distribution of the material of the De
Contemptu elsewhere seems with some clearness to indicate
that the translation, or at least its working over, falls in the
time of the Canterbury Tales instead of in the earlier period,
and this in turn carries with it as an inference the late date
of that version of the Prologue which refers to it.1
JThe introduction of the lark passage in A. (11. 139-143 ; cf. Pubs. Mod.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 797
That the revision was a late piece of work seems to be
indicated, again, by an extremely interesting and suggestive
trait that characterizes it — a trait which in any case throws
no little light upon the way in which Chaucer went about his
task. For one of the most striking things connected with the
revision is the scrupulous care which Chaucer takes to save
himself the trouble of altering rhymes, and this invincible
disinclination to touch his rhyme-words is of the utmost
interest, independently of its present bearing. What has
happened is briefly this : In only eleven instances in the
entire Prologue has Chaucer changed the rhyme of a couplet,
and then, it would seem, usually under stress of stern neces-
sity.1 On the other hand, in twenty-one instances he has
Lang. Assoc., xix, 682) may possibly also point to the period of the Canter-
bury Tales. It has already been noted (p. 754, n. 2) that the couplet A.
139-140, which closely parallels F. 399-400, is too nearly a commonplace to
give such a verbal detail evidential value. But that Chaucer's interest in
the various strands which had entered or were to enter the tangled web of
the Squire's Tale — particularly his treatment of the virtue of the magic
ring — may have suggested not so much the phrasing as the finely imagined
device itself of the herald lark whose words were understood, is not im-
possible. Moreover, that the Squire's Tale and the A- version were in mind
not far from the same time seems probable from another interesting parallel —
A. 113-18 with F. 52-57 — which includes the reference to the sword of
winter. The passage in A. differs from B., except in tenses, in one detail,
the substitution in A. 112 of "And clothed him in grene al" for "That
naked was and clad hit " of B. 130. F. 54 reads : ' ' What for the seson
and the yonge grene." That is, at the one point where A. varies from B,
it agrees with the parallel passage in the Squire1 s Tale. (One should fur-
ther compare with the three passages referred to The Book of the Duchesae,
410 ff., and R. R., 565.) It may be noted, also, that F. 481-82 recalls
A. 83-84. The evidence is in itself altogether too slight to be convincing.
Taken in connection with other considerations, however, which point the
same way, it gains at least corroborative value.
1 (1) A. 13-14 = B. 13-14 ; (2) A. 49-50 = B. 49-50 ; (3) A. 53-54 =
B. 63-64; (4) A. 91-92 = B. 181-82; (5) A. 224-25 = B. 270-71 ; (6) A.
264-65 = B. 332-33; (7) A. 266-67 = B. 334-35; (8) A. 312-13 = B.
338-39; (9) A. 330-31 = B. 354-55; (10) A. 332-33 = B. 356-57; (11)
A. 526-27 = B. 538-39. Of these, it will be noted that (2) and (3) belong
798 JOHN L. LOWES.
changed an entire line except the last word.1 One is inclined
to fancy that quite as much ingenuity must have been
exercised in keeping the final word intact as in throwing it
overboard and modelling the couplet de novo, but seemingly
Chaucer did not think so. Moreover, in nine lines the last
two words alone remain unchanged ; 2 while in two lines
only the last three,3 and in three lines only the last four4 are
left untouched. That is to say, in thirty-five instances
has more than half of the line been modified, and the
rhyme-word carefully preserved. To these thirty-five cases,
furthermore, there should be added the nine lines 5 in which
a single new rhyme-?.0orcZ is substituted for an old without,
however, changing the rhyme itself. It is clear, then, that
the vis inertiae to be overcome before Chaucer could bring
himself to modify a rhyme was by no means inconsiderable.
At least two inferences may perhaps be drawn from these
very suggestive facts. In the first place, they seem to offer
to the recasting of the cento from the Marguerite poems ; that (4) is among the
introductory lines of the passage that has been carried back over one hundred
lines in order to fuse the two parts of the poem into one ; that (5) has lost
from between its two lines twenty-nine lines of B., through the omission
and transposition involved in the modification of the balade setting ; that
(6), (7) and (8) form the setting of the long book-paragraph inserted in
A. ; and that (11) forms part of the notable change in the god of Love's
final reference to the balade. That is to say, all but three — (1) , (9), (10) —
of the changes in the rhyme of couplets belong to the more thoroughgoing
portions of the revision, where rather heroic measures were rendered neces-
sary. (Couplets added or omitted in toto are of course not included. )
1A. 28 = B. 28; 51 = 61; 58 = 56; 59 = 67; 60 = 68; 69 = 81; 70
= 82 ; 72 = 188 ; 78 = 194 ; 83 = 99 ; 84 = 100 ; 107 = 120 ; 127 =
139 ; 146 = 214 ; 160 = 228 ; 165 = 233 ; 179 = 276 ; 227 = 300 ; 348 =
368 ; 402 = 414 ; 532 = 543. Cf. 106 = 202 ; 108 = 119.
2 A. 33 = B. 33; 36 = 36; 52 = 62; 68 = 80; 89 = 108 ; 117 = 129 ;
136 = 150 ; 144 = 212 ; 242 = 316 ; 341 = 363.
3 A. 73 = B. 189; 98 = 204.
4 A. 94 = B. 198; 166 = 234; 533 = 542.
5 A. 39 = B. 39; 138 = 152; 143 = 211; 164 = 231; 234 = 308; 247
= 321; 317 = 341; 364 = 380; 544 = 578.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 799
an additional criterion of no small value for determining
which is, of the two versions, the revision and which the
original. For nothing could better illustrate the essential
difference between the spontaneity of first-hand composition
and the restraint exercised in revision by what stands already
written than just the phenomena in question. So long as
thought and feeling are fluid, words come half unconsciously,
and rhyme answers naturally to rhyme ; the thought is first,
the words second. In revision, on the other hand, precisely
the reverse is the case. The word is there; the mould is
already cast ; the very lines are largely predetermined.1 It
is not so much his present thought as it is his previous
expression which constitutes now for the poet the dominant
factor, and from this very element of calculation in-
volved, which Chaucer's treatment of the rhyme-words
so strikingly illustrates, it follows that a revision will be
apt to possess, other things being equal, more intellectual,
fewer sensuous or emotional qualities than its original.2
1 Chaucer's problem, as he set it, was very like that which confronts the
modern writer who wishes to revise his work after page-proof has been
reached. The flexibility even of galley-proof is no longer there ; one is
forced to cut one's phrase — still more one's thought — to the measure of
the space already occupied.
2 Compare, for an excellent illustration, the elimination from the Palace
of Art, on revision, of the stanzas dealing with the sensuous delights of the
soul. And, indeed, the relation of Tennyson's revised Palace of Art in
the volume of 1842 to the original of 1833 has some rather illuminating
points of contact with the relation of A. to B. Tennyson's growing sense
of artistic unity found expression in the transposition of large groups of
stanzas in order to make the ground-plan of his palace more consistent,
just as Chaucer transposed large groups of couplets seemingly for greater
temporal unity. The same sterner sense of the subordination of beauty of
detail to the demands of the artistic whole that seems to have underlain
the excision from A. of the lovely FUostrato lines and the condensation
of the panegyric on the daisy, one finds in the omission from the Palace of
Art of the beautiful stanza (among many others) on the "deep unsounded
skies Shuddering with silent stars. ' ' And curiously enough, while in its first
three-fourtlis the Palace of Art has undergone perhaps more extensive
800 JOHN L. LOWES.
And that precisely this element of calculation rather than
abandon does characterize A. as contrasted with B., has been
already sufficiently emphasized. But, in the second place
and more particularly, this almost excessively scrupulous
guarding of the rhymes as they stand seems to be peculiarly
consistent with what we should expect of the older rather
than the younger artist — with such a mood, for instance, as
gained expression when Chaucer, in another poem, found it
. . . . a greet penaunce,
Sith rym in English hath swich scarsitee,
To folowe word by word the curiositee
Of Graunson, flour of hem that make in France.1
That is precisely the attitude which finds concrete illustra-
tion in the handling of the rhyme-words in the Prologue,
and so far forth the facts here noted corroborate the other
evidence for the later date of the revision.
Finally, there remains the fact of the single manuscript
of A. as contrasted with the dozen or more manuscripts of B. —
a consideration which has been urged as a convincing argument
for the priority of A. But to say the very least, the bearing
of the exis£erice of but the single manuscript is exceedingly
ambiguous. Unquestionably one explanation might be
that the supposed second version almost immediately
superseded the first, of which no more copies, accordingly,
were made. One has to be on one's guard, however, even
here, against a particularly insidious form of the ambiguous
revision than any other poem of its length in the language, its last twenty
stanzas — save for the omission of one, and four slight verbal changes in
three others — remain untouched. Perhaps on the whole no more convinc-
ing evidence of any sort could be offered that the qualities of revised work,
particularly after the lapse of a few years, are not those of spontaneity but
of restraint, not those of lavishness but of economy, not those of "sweet
disorder" but of conscious plan, than a detailed comparison of Tennyson's
volume of 1842 with that of 1833, for the poems common to both.
1 Compleynt of Venus, 11. 79-82.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 801
middle. For " author's revision " carries with it in these
latter days implications unheard of in the fourteenth century
— implications which none the less slip, to the darkening
of counsel, into one's reasoning in the premises. "Author's
revision " now implies the relegation of earlier editions to
the shelves of the second-hand book-shops, either finally or
until the times of their restitution as rarities. But a four-
teenth century MS., once launched on its career, had no such
fate to apprehend. Such a supplanting of a first edition by
a revision as modern conditions of printing and publication
render inevitable, was in the nature of the case precluded
where the "first edition" was a manuscript, which might
proceed to multiply itself, without let or hindrance from
other manuscripts, to the end of the chapter. But even
granting the contention, it remains by no means the only
possible explanation of the one MS. of A. On the
other hand, the facts are quite as adequately accounted
for if one suppose that the first version had the start
of the revision by seven or eight years, and won, as
it readily might, so firm a hold on the popular affection
that the revision (particularly if undertaken for some
such special reason as has been suggested) l failed,
naturally enough, to displace the more familiar form. The
cases are of course only partly parallel, but in the well-
known popular attitude towards the Revised Version of the
English Bible one may see an illustration of the more or
less unreasoning tendency to hold by an old and well-loved
literary form against a new, charm it never so wisely. The
very fact that the MS. of A. is unique, accordingly, is
certainly susceptible of interpretation as an argument for
the lapse of several years between its composition and that
of the earlier form.2
1Seep. 781.
1 Bilderbeck assigns B., which he of course regards as the revised version,
to the year 1390. Chaucer's gratitude to the Queen, as expressed in the
9
802 JOHN L. LOWES.
III.
It seems possible to carry the investigation a step farther.
Regarding the chronology of certain of the works mentioned
in the Prologue the suggestions to follow — which, far from
being the result of any preconceived theory, are on the other
hand the outgrowth of successive inferences from observa-
tions whose significance was not at first perceived — are
Prologue, is for his appointment, July 12, 1389, as Clerk of the King's
Works (p. 101) ; the love-making of the birds (which Bilderbeck connects
with his elaborate interpretation of the details of the allegory in the Parle-
ment of Foules : see his edition of Chaucer's Minor Poems, London, 1895,
pp. 77-78) symbolizes "the healing of differences among the political
parties of the period under reference" (p. 102) ; the lines on pity's
"stronge gentil myght" laud " the moderation and forgiving spirit which
characterized the new policy of the King (ib. ) ; the "note of admonition"
in the lecture on the duties of a king "gives place to a note of admiration
in the [revised Prologue], which reads like a compliment to a king whose
acts and policy are in strict accordance with the ideal of kingship presented
by the poet" (p. 103) ; the lilies are removed from the god of Love's
garland on account of the three years' truce with France (ib. ) ; the refer-
ences to Chaucer's own age go out on a gentle hint from Gower (pp.
105-6) — and the poem becomes a veritable cryptogram. Moreover, Bilder-
beck' s selection of 1390 is manifestly influenced in another respect by his
strong penchant for allegorizing, which extends even to numbers. There
are nineteen ladies, for instance, following the god of Love and Alcestis,
because in 1385 Queen Anne was nineteen years old (pp. 90, 99) ; and
Chaucer's "statement that the month of May always draws him .... to
observe the resurrection of the daisy .... may be a symbolical way of
describing something of the nature of an annual birthday tribute to the
queen" (p. 90). As for this tribute we must note that "from 1385 to
1394 we have a period of ten years. There are ten good women whose
stories are given in nine legends" (p. 89). Ergo, while "the coincidence
in number may be accidental, it is at least consistent with the hypothesis "
that the annual tribute of a legend continued up to the Queen's death !
(It 'may be remarked in passing that as "Chaucer's plan or commission
contemplated the incorporation of only nineteen legends" (p. 92), one each
year, and as the Queen was nineteen years old when the series began, each
annual tribute would constitute a graceful reminder of the approach of her
fortieth year). Moreover, Bilderbeck finds "evidence of a revision of
the Legends up to and including the Legend of Ariadne, which is the sixth
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 803
offered with the utmost caution. At the same time they
seem to afford on the whole a distinctly more reasonable
working-hypothesis for the chronology of the so-called
Middle Period than some of the more purely a priori
theories that hold the field, and if they should by any chance
lead to a really fruitful reconsideration of the subject, their
individual fate will be a matter of small moment.
In Chaucer's Legend of Ariadne are certain curious de-
tails for which, so far as I know, no explanation has ever
been offered. They are not found in any of the other known
versions of the story.1 On the basis of the agreement
between Chaucer's and Gower's accounts in two otherwise
peculiar features,2 Professor Macaulay has suggested that
in order" (p. 89). "Now, the period from May, 1385, to May, 1390,
includes six months of May" (p. 108). Therefore, if one legend were
written each year and six are found to be revised, the revision of the
Legends, and presumably of the Prologue, must have taken place in the
sixth year, namely, 1390. But unfortunately Bilderbeck forgets entirely
what he had previously pointed out — the fact that ten good women have
between them only nine legends ! The Legend of Hypsipyle and Medea (No.
IV), accordingly, must do duty for both 1388 and 1389 (Bilderbeck actu-
ally assigns the Legend of Dido, as the third in order, to 1387 ; see p.
90), the Legend of Lueretia (No. V) would fall in 1390, and the Legend
of Ariadne (No. VI), and the revision, in 1S91 ! The theory thus furnishes
its own reductio ad absurdum. "La preoccupation chronologique," says
Legouis with justice, though in another connection, "devient peu El pen
idee fixe. Elle se fait tyrannique et arrive a gauchir le sentiment esthe"-
tique en le sollicitant vers ses fins propres. L' appreciation de I'osuvre n'y
est jamais tout a fait pure et desinte'resse'e. ... 11 n'est peut-etre pas
ne"cessaire que la vie de Chaucer soit conjectured, il est essentiel que son
oeuvre soit lue avec justesse et avec gout" (op. cit., pp. 19-20).
1 See Skeat, Oxford Chaucer, in, xxxix, 333, for references to the sources
of the story in Ovid, Plutarch, Boccaccio, Hyginus, and Virgil. Cf. Bech,
Anglia, v, 337-42.
* ' ' The idea that the son of Minos went to Athens to study philosophy,
[and] the incident of the ball of pitch given by Ariadne to Theseus to be
used against the Minotaur" (Works of John Gower, ed. Macaulay, in,
503) ; cf. also Bech, Anglia, v, 339-41. For Gower's version of the story
see Confessio Amantis, v, 11. 5231 ft. (ed. Macaulay, in, 89 ff. )
804 JOHN L. LOWES.
while for the rest the stories of Chaucer and Gower are
quite independent, "in regard to these matters we must
assume a common source;" but of the details now to be
mentioned there is no trace whatever in Gower. They
involve, in a word, the way in which Chaucer has conceived
the imprisonment of Theseus and the entrance of Ariadne
into the plot, and particularly the proposition of Theseus to
become after his release Ariadne's page. More specifically,
the points in question are as follows. The prison of Theseus
is a tower, which is "joyning in the walle to a foreyne"
belonging to the two daughters of King Minos, who dwell in
their chambers above. The two young women hear Theseus
complaining as they stand on the wall in the moonlight, and
have compassion on the prisoner.1 When, their plan for his
escape having been formulated, they disclose it to Theseus
and the jailor, Theseus proposes to forsake his heritage at
home and to become Ariadne's page, working for his suste-
nance.2 In order that neither Minos nor any one else "shal
1 The tour, ther as this Theseus is throwe
Doun in the botom derke and wonder lowe,
Was joyning in the walle to a foreyne ;
And hit was longing to the doghtren tweyne
Of King Minos, that in hir chambres grete
Dwelten above, toward the maister-strete,
In mochel mirthe, in joye and in solas.
Not I nat how, hit happed ther, per cas,
As Theseus compleyned him by nighte,
The kinges doghter, Adrian that highte,
And eek her suster Phedra, herden al
His compleyning, as they stode on the wal
And lokeden upon the brighte mone ;
Hem leste nat to go to bedde sone.
And of his wo they had compassioun ;
A kinges sone to ben in swich prisoun
And be devoured, thoughte hem gret pitee.
(Leg, 1960-1976.)
Fro yow, whyl that me lasteth lyf or breeth,
I wol nat twinne, after this aventure,
But in your servise thus I wol endure,
THE LEGEND OP GOOD WOMEN. 805
[him] conne espye," he declares he will disguise himself in
lowly wise :
So slyly and so wel I shal me gye,
And me so wel disfigure and so lowe,
That in this world ther shal no man me knowe.1
The proposition is of course not carried out, and the
remainder of the story follows more closely the classical
sources.
So soon, now, as one isolates these details which Chaucer,
and apparently Chaucer alone, has added to give more body
to the somewhat meagre outlines of the classical story, one
sees that they very strikingly recall certain features of the
Teseide and the Knight's Tale. The prison in the Legend is
" joyning in the walle to a foreyne " (1962) ; in the Teseide,
Palamon and Arcite are " in prigione Allato allato al giardino
amoroso ; " 3 in the Knight's Tale the dungeon " was evene
That, as a wrecche unknowe, I wol yow serve
For ever-mo, til that myn herte sterve.
Forsake I wol at hoom myn heritage,
And, as I seide, ben of your court a page,
If that ye vouche-sauf that, in this place,
Ye graunte me to han so gret a grace
That I may han nat but my mete and drinke ;
And for my sustenance yit wol I swinke.
(Lea. 2031-2041.)
1 Leg. 2045 ff. : cf. 2060-65 :
And, if I profre yow in low manere
To ben your page and serven yow right here,
But I yow serve as lowly in that place,
I prey to Mars to yive me swiche a grace
That shames deeth on me ther mote falle,
And deeth and povert to my frendes alle.
Cf. also 11. 2080-2082.
3 Teseide, ni, 11. For the rektion of the garden, and so of the dungeon,
to Emily's room, see ni, 8 :
Ogni mattina venuta ad un'ora
In un giardin se n'entrava soletta,
Ch' allato alia sua camera dimora
Faceva, etc.
806 JOHN L. LOWES.
joynant to the gardin-wal" (A. 1060). In both the Legend
and the Knighfs Tale the prison is in a tower ; * hi the Teseide,
however, it is a room in the palace.2 In the Legend, " as
Theseus compleyned him," Ariadne and Phaedra " herden
al His compleyning, as they stode on the wal " (1968 ff.) ; in
the Teseide " Palamon tutto stordito Gridd : ome ! . . . A
quell' om6 la giovenetta bella Si volse ; " 3 the detail is
entirely changed in the Knight's Tale. In the Legend, " of
his wo they had compassioun " (1974); in the Teseide, "n6
fu nel girsen via senza pensiero Di quell' om&."4 In the
Legend Theseus proposes to be Ariadne's page ; in the
Teseide Arcite is disguised "in maniera di pover valletto
.... a mode che un vil garzone," 5 and becomes the servant
of Theseus, unrecognized by him but known to Emily;6 in
the Knighfs Tale, "A yeer or two he was in this servyse,
Page of the chambre of Emelye the brighte" (1426-27).
In the Legend Theseus declares :
And for my sustenance yit wol I swinke ;
l"The tour, ther as this Theseus is throwe" (Leg. 1960) ; "The grete
tour. . . . (Ther-as the knightes weren in prisoun)," A. 1056-58.
8 Perche di sangue reale eran nati,
E felli dentro al palagio abitare,
E cosi in una camera tenere (li, 99).
The three accounts differ entirely in the elevation of the prison. In the
Legend Theseus is thrown "Down in the botom derke and wonder lowe"
(1961) ; in the Teseide the prisoners' room seems to be on the garden level,
for when Emily hears Palamon' s cry, "Si volse destra in su la, poppa,
manca;" in the Knights Tale Palamon "romed in o chambre on heigh, in
which he al the noble citee seigh" (A. 1065-66).
"Tea., m, 17-18.
*Tes., m, 19. In all three accounts the jailor appears, but in the Legend
it is by his aid that Theseus escapes (1987-90, 2021, 2026, 2051-53, 2141,
2150, 2153 ) ; while in both the Teseide and the Knight's Tale he is drugged,
and the escape is made by the aid of a friend ( Tes., v, 24-25 ; A. 1468-74).
5Tes., iv, 22. «!&., iv, 40ff.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 807
in the Teseide Arcite is spoken of as
Diversamente 1'opere menando
Quando per esso e quando per altrui ; *
in the Knight's Tale,
Wel coude he hewen wode and water bere ....
And therto was he strong and big of bones
To doon that any wight can him devise.2
In the Legend Theseus says :
so slyly and BO wel I shall me gye
And me so wel disfigure and so lowe,
That in this world iker shal no man me knowe ;
in the Teseide Arcite through his grief
. ... si era del tutto trasmutato
Che nutto non Pavia raffigurato : 8
in the Knighfs Tale it is the fact that " his face was so
disfigured of maladye" (A. 1403-04) which suggested to
Arcite that "if that he bar him lowe " (1405) he might live
in Athens unknown. Finally, it may be noted that Theseus
in the Legend declares that he has been Ariadne's servant
seven years "thogh ye wiste hit nat" (2116) ; while in the
Knights Tale the imprisonment of Palamon lasts seven years
(A. 1452, cf. 1462). The time of Arcite's service in the
Teseide is not stated.*
What, now, is the significance of these facts ? In the first
place, it seems clear that in his elaboration of the story of
Ariadne Chaucer took certain of his suggestions from the Tese-
ide. The parallels would be striking enough even if one did not
know that Chaucer was acquainted with Boccaccio's poem ;
with that knowledge the evidence seems conclusive. In the
llb., iv, 31. » A. 1422-25 ; cf. 1416 ff. Tea., iv, 28.
4 He is with Menelao "vicin d'un anno" (iv, 20), but for his service at
Egina (iv, 21-39) and with Theseus (iv, 40 ff. ) no definite notes of time
seem to be given.
808 JOHN L. LOWES.
story of Ariadne as he had it no hint was given of the way
in which Ariadne and Theseus were brought into communi-
cation with each other ; the situation in the Teseide, including
the nearness of the prison to Emily's garden and chamber
and Emily's overhearing of the prisoner's lament, provided
an adequate device for filling this very serious gap in the
action. In like manner, Arcite's service in the house with
Emily offered a suggestion of no less value towards giving
much needed body to the characterization of Theseus, while
at the same time materially heightening the effect of his
perfidy. That one may recognize, then, the influence of the
Teseide in the Legend of Ariadne there seems to be little
room for doubt.1
1 There is a very curious blunder in the poem which seems to corroborate
the view of the influence of the Teseide. All the MSS. except two — Addit.
9832, Brit. Mus., and R 3. 19, Trin., Camb,— read at the beginning of 1.
1966 "Of Athenes"— i. e. :
Dwelten above, toward the maister-strete
Of Athenes —
and the text in the Globe Chaucer so stands, with the note: "probably
Chaucer's own slip." The reading of the Oxford Changer — 'In mochel
mirth' — is Professor Skeat's "bold alteration," as he himself calls it (m,
335), "suggested by MS. T., and supported by MS. Addit. 9832, which has
'in moche myrth.' " But it is interesting to note that the prison in the
Teseide which Chaucer seems to have had in mind in his description was in
Athens, so that the reason of the slip may have been his overlooking, for
the moment, the fact that in the story he was really telling the scene had
been transferred to Crete.
It is perhaps worth while to note, too, the connection, in the Legend, of
Mars with a vow conditioned on victory :
By Mars, that is the cheef of my bileve,
So that I mighte liven and nat faile
To-morwe for t'acheve my bataile,
I nolde never fro this place flee, etc.
(Leg. 2109-12: cf. 2063.)
Compare Arcite's prayer to Mars (A. 2373 ff.), esp. 2402, 2405, 2407 :
Than help me, lord, to-morwe in my bataille ....
And do that I to-morwe have victorie ....
Thy soverein temple wol I most honouren, etc.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 809
But where in the complicated history of the influence of
the Teseide on Chaucer's work is just this instance to be
placed? In particular, may we determine whether it pre-
ceded or followed the first telling of the Knights Tale?1
There seems to be a pretty definite answer possible. If the
Ariadne followed the Knight's Tale, what we have is a
decidedly inferior and rather sketchy replica of two motives
already fully and artistically worked out.2 That is, to say
the least, inherently improbable. More specifically, while
the substitution of the "foreyne" of the Legend3 for the
lovely picture of the garden in Boccaccio is on any theory
puzzling enough (though as the crude working out of a
suggestion from a story not yet made the poet's own, it is at
least intelligible), the view that just that substitution of all
others should be deliberately made for Chaucer's own exqui-
Note also Leg. 2100 :
Doon her be wedded at your hoom-coming ;
and cf. A. 883-84 :
And of the feste that was at hir weddinge,
And of the tempest at hir hoom-comingt.
Compare also Leg. 1912 ; A. 865.
JTen Brink's theory of an original Pcdamon and Arcite in seven-line
stanzas has been, I think, entirely refuted by Dr. F. J. Mather, Jr. (An
English Muscettany, presented to Dr. Furnivall (1901), pp. 301-13 ; cf. Dr.
Mather's edition of The Prologue and the Knight's Tale, xvii), and by Dr. J.
8. P. Tatlock (in a discussion soon to be published). Cf. also the present
paper, p. 793, n. 5. That the Knighfs Tale as it stands represents sub-
stantially the original "love of Palamon and Arcyte" (slightly modified
here and there, it may be, to adapt it to the character of the Knight) seems
by far the most probable hypothesis.
*Ten Brink assures us (Stvdien, p. 63) that the Palamon in stanzas was
closer to the original and fuller than the present Knight's Tale, so that even
on his hypothesis the inference of the text holds.
8 The N. E. D. is probably correct in accepting here the usual sense of
chambre foreine (s. v. foreign, B., 2). Much as one wishes to agree with
Professor Skeat (in, 335) and Matzner against the meaning 'privy,' the
usage seems all to point the other way. Cf . also Bech, Anglia, v, 342.
810 JOHN L. LOWES.
site rendering of the picture in the KnigMs Tale is almost
inconceivable. And finally, that after he had created the
very noble and stately figure of Theseus in the Knight's Tale
Chaucer should, once more deliberately, superimpose upon
it in his reader's minds the despicable traitor of the Legend of
Ariadne,1 only the most convincing external evidence could
lead one to believe. On the other hand, that the crude and
not particularly meritorious sketch should precede the more
finished and elaborate development is merely in the natural
order of things.3
If this inference of the priority of the Ariadne to the
first telling of the Knight's Tale be valid, it carries with it
several interesting and somewhat important conclusions.
For one thing, it follows that at least one of the individual
Legends was composed before the Prologue. For the Palamon
and Arotte is distinctly stated to have preceded the Prologue
(11. 420—21), and we have just seen that the Ariadne gives evi*
JPart (indeed the main part, it would seem) of Chaucer's purpose in
writing the Legend of Ariadne he declares to be
... to clepe again unto memorie
Of Theseus the grete untrouthe of lore . . .
Be reed for shame 1 now I thy lyf beginne
(1889-90, 1893).
2 It it noteworthy that Boccaccio's device of making Emily overhear
Palamon' s groans, and so become aware of the prisoner's presence — the
device so essential to Chaucer's treatment of the situation in the Ariadne —
is altogether omitted from the Knighfs Tale. For the change Tyrwhitt's
reason still seems to be sufficient : "As no consequence is to follow from
their being seen by Emilia at this time, it is better, I think, to suppose, as
Chaucer has done, that they are not seen by her ' ' ( The Canterbury Tales of
Chaucer, 1775, iv, 136 n. ). The omission, accordingly, is perhaps inde-
pendent of the fact that the device seems to have been already used, although
the agreement of the Ariadne and the Knighf s Tale as against the Teseide in
the explicit mention of the tower and in the reference to the seven years seems
to indicate that (as indeed with Chaucer would be almost inevitable) the
earlier handling of the material was not absent from his mind when
the Knight's Tale was written.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 811
dence of having preceded the Palamon.1 Moreover, it also
follows at once that the Prologue was not Chaucer's first essay
in the use of the decasyllabic couplet.2 And indeed, so soon
as one entertains these two conclusions, they seem strongly
to justify themselves on other grounds. Considering the
second point first, it is certainly rather surprising that
the initial experiment in the use of a new metre should
be so astonishingly successful as the Prologue — particularly
when in several, at least, of the Legends supposed to follow
it the metre is handled with no such mastery. It is perhaps
impossible, at least until still more shall have been done
towards the establishment of Chaucer's text, to apply to his
poems rigidly formal metrical tests from which the personal
equation may be sufficiently eliminated to render the results
at all trustworthy,3 so that the ear must probably for some
1To the evidence already adduced for the early date of the Ariadne
should be added its curious inconsistencies. The tribute to Minos is twice
said to be an annual one (11. 1926, 1941), while between the two statements
occurs another (1. 1932) to the effect that it is every third year. Theseus
in 1. 2075 is said to be " but of a twenty yeer and three ; " in 11. 2099-2100
Ariadne requests that he have Phaedra married to his son on their arrival !
Theseus declares ( though how he could have previously known her is not
told) that he has been Ariadne's servant seven years in his own country — to
which, however, it may of course be replied that a lover is not to be held rigidly
to the truth in such a pass. Ariadne is greatly delighted for her sister and
herself that "Now be we duchesses, bothe I and ye" (1. 2127), as if they
were not princesses already. And it may be added that it is really Phaedra
and not the heroine who does all the planning for Theseus' s escape, Ariadne
simply asserting, in seven lines, that he is to be helped, while Phaedra, in
forty lines, furnishes the details. The discrepancy involved in 1. 1966 has
been already referred to (p. 808, n. 1).
* That would also follow upon the rejection of the theory that the origi-
nal Palamon was in seven-line stanzas.
8 Dr. Mather's belief (An English Miscellany, p. 312, n. 1) that, should
metrical statistics be coDected for all of Chaucer's poems in the heroic
couplet, "it is possible that results as valuable as those obtained from the
analytical study of Shakespeare's blank verse might be reached," one hopes
may be prophetic. And within certain limits results are perhaps even now
812 JOHN L. LOWES.
time be, as indeed in any case it ought to be, the court
of last resort. And if one read aloud from the Prologue
Chaucer's account, for example, of his preparations for the
night in the arbor1 (eliminating from one's estimate so far
as may be the charm of the diction considered by itself)
and then at once read from the Ariadne the account of
Theseus's voyage to the island,2 one feels, I think, inde-
pendently of the subject matter, all the difference between
the flexibility and inevitableness of a medium of expression
perfectly mastered, and the stiffness and intrusiveness of a
measure of which the user is still distinctly conscious. The
flow, the movement, of the thought in the passage from
the Prologue is as absolutely untrammeled, as liquid (if one
may phrase it so) as if the decasyllabic couplet had been
from the beginning of time the predestined rhythm of just
that thought. The poet is thinking in his metre, as one
thinks in a language one has at last really learned. The
passage in the Ariadne, on the other hand, has nothing
inevitable about it; the thought is cut according to the
metre; it does not flow, it jerks.5 The thought and the
metre, in other words, are still two things ; the one is
undergoing adjustment to the other, as one's expression
is adapted to the exigencies of one's vocabulary in a partially
mastered foreign tongue. Independently of all other con-
attainable. Such attempts, however, as I have myself made in this direc-
tion in the study of the Legend have gone far to convince me, on com-
paring their conclusions with the results of similar attempts by one or two
others, that a more definite working basis than any that at present exists is
necessary before the data themselves can be relied on.
1B. 197 ff.
3 Leg. 2144 ff. The two passages were chosen at random — except that
both were to be narrative.
3 One is often painfully conscious of the line-lengths as one reads, as one
is conscious of the bumping of the ties when one's train is off the track.
In the passage from the Prologue one keeps serenely on the rails.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 813
iiderations contingent upon subject matter and the like, it
is little short of incredible that Chaucer should have handled
his instrument as he does in the Ariadne after he had
acquired the mastery of it which the Prologue shows.
Technique of that sort is scarcely a thing that can be
put on and off at will. Moreover, the passage in the
Prologue has Chaucer's unapproachable and (happily) un-
analyzable melody to a supreme degree ; the oftener one
reads it the more magical it seems. In the Ariadne, how-
ever correctly the metres may scan, they never sing — at
least for more than a line or two at a time. But melody,
even Chaucer's, is not altogether independent of technique,
and it is a fair presumption that the Ariadne is unmelodious
because the technical difficulties of a somewhat unfamiliar
metre had not yet been surmounted, and that the Prologue
has Chaucer's " divine fluidity of movement " because mean-
time in that very metre practice of his art had shared with
great creating nature. On the side of freedom and of
melody, then, one finds distinct corroboration of the conclu-
sion drawn from a consideration of the sources.
In still another respect the difference between the Ariadne
and the Prologue is hardly less marked. In the Ariadne
Chaucer has not yet learned to give variety to his line. In
the paragraph (11. 2136-2178) which has been referred
to already occur, within forty-two lines, the following :
And took his wyf, and eek her auster free (2152)
And gat him ther a newe barge anoon (2160)
And taketh his leve, and hoomward saileth he (2162)
And fond his fader drenched in the see (2178)
And forth un-to this Minotaur he geeth (2145)
And out he cometh by the clewe again (2148)
And by the teching of this Adriane (2146)
And by the gayler geten hath a barge (2150)
And of his wyvea tresor gan hit charge (2151)
And of his contree-folk a ful greet woon (2161)
And in bis armea hath this Adriane (2158)
814 JOHN L. LOWES.
And in an yle, amid the wilde see (2163)
And in that yle half a day he lette (2167)
And to the contre of Ennopye him dighte (2155)
And to his contree-ward he saileth blyve (2176)
And every point performed was in dede (2138)
And Theseus is lad unto his deeth (2144)
And eek the gayler, and with hem alle three (2153)
And seide, that on the lond he moste him reste (2168)
And, for to tellen shortly in this cas (2170)
And shortly of this matere for to make (2136).
Not only do exactly half of the lines in the paragraph begin
with and,1 but the same fall of the pause recurs incessantly.
There is almost nothing of the wonderful skill in the plac-
ing of the caesura, so manifest in the verse of the Prologue
and the Knight's Tale, which weaves upon the uniform
background of the recurrent line-lengths the endlessly shift-
ing pattern of the sentence-cadences. In another sense
from that presumably intended, in the Ariadne Chaucer is
certainly not yet able to " make the metres .... as [him]
leste,"2 and one's sense of the presence of the apprentice
hand is once more heightened.
It seems to be clear, then, that at least one of the Legends
preceded the first version of the Prologue. Is there any
evidence that this applies to others than the Ariadne ? It is to
be noted that the Phyllis seems to stand in particularly close
1The number of lines so beginning in the entire Legend of Ariadne is
91 — »'. e., 1 in every 3.7.
2 The line as it actually stands at the close of the Prologue — " Make the
metres of hem as the leste" (B. 562) — has usually been taken as a reference
of Chaucer's to the new metre of the Legend. If so, the present view leaves
the allusion untouched, for even though some or all of the Legends in fact
antedated the Prologue, the latter by a conventional fiction would of course
refer to them as still to come. At the same time it seems very doubtful
whether "make the metres" really means any more than "ryme" of
1. 570, so that the real emphasis falls on "as the leste," and the sense
of the passage is merely : Tejl their stories in metre, but otherwise as you
like — save they must not be too long drawn out.
THE LEGEND OP GOOD WOMEN. 815
relation to the Ariadne. As a matter of fact, the former is little
else than a sequel to the latter, and refers back to it constantly 1
in such a way as seems to show that the Ariadne was at the
time fresh in mind. Moreover, the conception of Theseus
in the Phyllis is no more likely than that of the Ariadne
itself to have followed the Knight's Tale, and neither in
metrical nor in other merits does the one rank higher than
its companion piece. That the Phyllis and the Ariadne
belong very close together probably no one, from a compari-
son of the two poems, would ever doubt. But in the Phyllis
it is distinctly implied that much time had already been
spent on the Legend :
But for lam agroted heer-biforn
To wryte of hem that been in love forsworn,
And eek to haste me in my legende,
Which to performe god me grace sende,
Therfor I passe shortly in this wyse. *
Indeed, against the common view that when the Phyllis was
written the greater number of the Legends as they stand
had been composed there seems to lie no valid objection.
But if the inferences of this discussion so far have been
sound, it follows that the Ariadne and with little doubt the
Phyllis, preceded the Prologue, and since the Phyllis seems
to carry with it perhaps the majority of the other Legends,
1See, for example, 11. 2399-2400, 2446-51, 2459-61, 2464, 2543-49.
The two stories are also directly associated at the close of the first book
of the .House of Fame, 11. 388-426.
2 LL 2454-57 ; cf. also 11. 2490-91 :
Me list nat vouche-sauf on him to swinke,
Ne spende on him a penne f til of inke ;
and 11. 2513 ff. :
But al her lettre wryten I ne may
By ordre, for hit were to me a charge, etc.
816 JOHN L. LOWES.
it further follows that the Prologue was written after most,
perhaps after all, of the narratives it introduces.1
That, at all events, is the unforseen conclusion to which a
study of the facts with no such end in view has led. What
farther can be said in its favor ? The main thing, perhaps,
is that it seems after all to be in perfect accord with the
antecedent probabilities of the case. For manifestly Pro-
logues, like Prefaces, are in general more likely to be written
after than before the work they introduce, and unless some
specific reason to the contrary should appear in the present
instance, we are scarcely justified in maintaining an exception.
And indeed, so soon as one tries to see why the view that the
Prologue preceded the Legends has taken, as it certainly
has,2 so firm hold upon all of us, one finds an interesting
situation. For, squarely faced, does not the whole theory
depend upon a strangely literal-minded, not to say nai've,
interpretation of the charming fiction of the Prologue itself?
Both Alcestis and the god of Love speak in the Prologue
of the actual Legends as still to be written ; ergo, such must
have been the case ! But to the reader of the Prologue the
Legends are necessarily still to come, and may we not suppose
that Chaucer — whatever must be said of his interpreters —
was endowed with sufficient imaginative power to conceive
a Prologue, whenever written, as really what it purports to
1 That one or two of the better told stories may have been added after
the Prologue was composed, is of course a possibility.
8 See, for instance, ten Brink: In demselben und im folgenden jahre
[1385, his date for the Prologue] mag Chaucer die uns erhaltenen oder
verloren gegangenen erziihlungen von guten frauen gedichtet haben (Stvdien,
p. 149) ; and Skeat : " I suppose that Chaucer went on with one tale of the
series after another during the summer and latter part of the same year
[1385, the date assigned both forms of the Prologue] till he grew tired of
the task, and at last gave it up in the middle of a sentence" (Oxford
Chaucer, ni, xxii). See also Bilderbeck's view, referred to above, pp.
801-03.
THE LEGEND OP GOOD WOMEN. 817
be, and to throw himself back to its point of view? Granted
the delightful fiction of their genesis at all, how else con-
ceivably could the Legends be referred to than as still to be
composed ? In other words, does not our common assump-
tion that the individual Legends must have followed the
Prologue depend once more on an instinctive and unreasoning
acquiescence in Chaucer's incredible verisimilitude? That
we can allow the statements of the Prologue itself any
weight whatever in the matter is in the very nature of the
case impossible.
Assume, now, for the moment, that the idea of the Legend
had been conceived sometime before the Prologue was written,
and that most, perhaps all, of the individual narratives had
already been written. That will account at once for the
almost uniform inferiority of the greater number of them,
metrically and otherwise, to the Prologue. Assume further
that Chaucer's weariness with the plan, manifest in certain
of the Legends themselves, had led him to lay it aside for a
time, and that later, through the reception accorded the
Troilus (to be considered in a moment), an occasion had
arisen for clever and brilliant utilization of the older mate-
rial. Even apart from the actual evidence for the earlier
date of the Legends, such a theory seems to involve fewer
difficulties than that which has to account for the manifest
inferiority of supposedly later to earlier work— of the Legends
not only to the Prologue but to the Knights Tale and the
Troilus — and that, too, in the period of the poet's prime.1
*It will at once be objected that the Prologue itself implies a greater
number of Legends than are actually extant, so that its allusions to the
Legends as still to be composed are at least not wholly the poet's pleasing
fiction. It may be granted that Chaucer possibly intended, even when he
wrote the Prologue, to continue at some later day the execution of his
plan. The present argument deals and can deal only with the stories
which we have. But have not, in general, Chaucer's statements regarding
the details of the continuation of the Legend been taken far too seriously ?
10
818 . JOHN L. LOWES.
There are, however, other considerations which must be
taken into account before a final estimate is made.
Much has been made of the lists of names in the balade and the Man of
Law's head-link. But so soon as one really examines the facts, it seems
obvious that Chaucer is speaking in the most general terms. I subjoin the
lists of women in (a) the House of Fame, i, 380-426 ; (6) the titles of
the Legends actually written ; (c) the bcdade of the Prologue ; and (d) the
Man of Law's head-link. One might add at least four names, the rest
being rather remote, from the Franklin's Tale (F. 1405-8, 1442-8), but
the connection is not so close. The lists are as follows :
(a) Dido, Phyllis, Briseida, Oenone, Isiphile and Medea, Dyanira,
Ariadne (8).
(b) Cleopatra, Thisbe, Dido, Hypsipyle and Medea, Lucretia, Ariadne,
Philomela, Phyllis, Hypermnestra, [Alceste] (11).
(c) [Absalon], Ester, [Jonathas], Penalopee, Marcia Catoun, Isoude,
Eleyne, Lavyne, Lucresse, Polixene, Cleopatre, Tisbe, Herro, Dido,
Laudomia, Phyllis, Canace, Ysiphile, Ypermistre, Adriane, Alceste
(19).
(d) Lucresse, Tisbee, Dido, Phyllis, Dianire, Hermion, Adriane, Isiphilee,
Erro, Eleyne, Brixseyda, Ladomea, Medea, Ypermistra, Penelopee,
Alceste, [Canacee] (17).
Of these, eight names occur in but one of the lists : Oenone (a), Philomela
(6), Ester (c), Marcia Catoun (c). Isoude (c), Lavyne (c), Polixene (c),
flermion (d) ; eight occur in two lists: Briseida (ad), Dyanira (ad), Cleo-
patra (be), Eleyne (cd), Herro (cd), Canacee (c[d]), Penelopee (cd),
Ladomea (cd) ; four occur in three lists : Tisbe (bed), Hypermestre (bed),
Alceste ([6]cd), Lucresse (bed) ; only five (5) occur in all four lists:
Dido (abed), Phyllis (abed), Isiphile and Medea (abc [-Medea] d), Ariadne
(abed).
One may put the case another way :
(1) Of one Legend the heroine (Philomela) is in none of the other lists.
(2) Five names in the balade (Ester, Marcia Catoun, Isoude, Lavyne,
Polixene) do not occur in the other lists.
(3) The heroines of two of the Legends (Philomela and Medea) are not
included in the balade.
(4) Six names in the balade are not in the head-link (i. e., those of (2)
and Cleopatra).
(5) Three names in the head-link are not in the balade ( Hermion, Briseida,
Dyanira ).
(6) The heroines of two of the Legends are not in the head-link (Philomela,
Cleopatra).
THE LEGEND OP GOOD WOMEN. 819
IV.
The facts pointed out with regard to the Ariadne make
possible still another inference. The Ariadne, it has been
shown, seems certainly to have preceded the Palamon and
Areite. But the Hous of Fame clearly antedated the Ariadne.
That, of course, no one has hitherto dreamed of denying,
since the Legend of Ariadne has been assumed to follow the
Prologue, which the Hous of Fame in turn admittedly pre-
ceded. But on any hypothesis the conclusion seems clearly
to hold, since to suppose that Chaucer would insert in the
Hous of Fame the sketch of Ariadne's story found at the
close of Book I x after he had already elaborated it in
the Legend is to the last degree improbable.2 If, however,
the Hous of Fame preceded the Ariadne, on the hypothesis
above it also preceded the Palamon — a conclusion which
may turn out to be more significant.
Leaving that, however, for the moment, it may be well
to consider at this point the relation between the Troilus
and the Prologue.3 Starting from the side of the Troilus, ten
(7) Seven [eight] names in the head-link have no Legends (Hermion,
Briseida, Dyanira, Eleyne, Herro, Penelopee, Ladomea, [Canacee] ; I
have included Alceste among the Legends ).
(8) Ten names in the balade have no Legends (i. e., those of (2) and Herro,
Canacee, Penelopee, Ladomea, Eleyne).
The confusion is inextricable, and it seems hard to believe that Chaucer
ever intended to do more than give indefinite lists of more or less typical
names, such as one finds by the score in Deschamps, Froissart, and their
contemporaries. Since the above note was written, a similar conviction has
been expressed by Dr. French, op. di., p. 31.
1 LI. 405-426.
"The same argument applies to the story of Phyllis (H. F., I, 388-396)
and to a less degree to that of Dido (H. F., i, 239-382).
3 On. account of Professor Tatlock' s very full and able treatment of the various
theories concerned with the chronology of Chaucer's middle period in the
forthcoming work already referred to, I have not felt myself at liberty to
820 JOHN L. LOWES.
Brink pointed out most explicitly the probability of close
chronological connection between the two. After citing
particularly Troilus, v, stanzas 254, 219, he concludes: "Der
zusammenhang mit dem prolog der legende liegt so klar am
tage, dass es mir unmoglich scheint, einen langeren zeitraum
zwischen der vollendung des Troylus und der abfassung
jenes prologs anzunehmen." * With this view Professor
Skeat, on the basis of the same stanzas, concurs : " That it
[the Prologue] was written at no great interval after Troilus
appears from the fact that even while writing Troilus, Chaucer
had already been meditating upon the goodness of Alcestis,
of which the Prologue to the Legend says so much." 2 To
the stanzas referred to by ten Brink and Skeat should be
added another,3 no less suggestive, namely, v, 255 :
Ne I sey not this al-only for these men,
But most for wommen that bitraysed be
Through false folk ; god yeve hem sorwe, amen/
That with hir grete wit and subtiltee
Bitrayse yow ! and this coinmeveth me
To speke, and in effect yow alle I preye,
Beth war of men, and. herkeneth what I seye I
For what this stanza does is to enunciate with great clear-
ness the specific theme of the Legend, as it is expressed not
only in the Prologue, but in a number of the individual
narratives :
And telle of false men that hem bitrayen; *
But thus this false lover can begyle
His trewe love. The devil him quyte his whyle ! 5
enter, in many cases, into so full a discussion as I should otherwise have
deemed necessary of the views of different investigators. Such views have,
I believe, been none the less taken into account.
1 Studien, p. 120. 2 Oxford Chaucer, m, xviii.
8 To the significance of this stanza Professor Kittredge first called my
attention.
4 Prologue, B. 486 = A. 476. * Leg., 2226-27.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 821
Wiih swiche an art and swiche sotelte
As thou thy-selven hast begyled me.1
Be war, ye women, of your solilfo . . .
And trusteth, as in love, no man but me.1
Ye may be war of men, yif that yow liste.8
That the idea of the Legend in general and of the Prologue
in particular, so far as it concerned Alcestis, was very defi-
nitely in Chaucer's mind at the close of his work on the
Troilus seems, then, indisputable — a fact which, in the absence
of conclusive evidence to the contrary, certainly points to a
close temporal relation between the two.
The possibility of such opposing evidence will be con-
sidered in a moment; meantime it should be noted that if
one approach the problem from the side of the Prologue,
the probability of close chronological connection with the
Troilus seems even greater. For sufficient emphasis has
scarcely been placed, perhaps, on the fact that the immediate
occasion of the Prologue was manifestly the stir caused by
the publication of the Troilus, with which Chaucer also links
his translation of the Romaunt of the Rose.* The situation
which the Prologue implies must of course not be taken over
seriously. That there was abundant talk and no small lift-
ing of eyebrows in court circles one may be sure ; how could
it be otherwise when a full-fledged modern " problem novel "
gradually unfolded before astonished mediaeval eyes? But
what Chaucer seems to have seen in the gossip of the court —
reacting somewhat as undoubtedly he was himself against
the sombre note in which his " litel tragedie " had closed —
lLeg., 2546-47. 'Leg., 2559, 2561. 'Leg. 2387.
* I am indebted to Professor Kittredge for the query whether Deschamps's
insistence on this particular work of Chaucer's may not have had something
to do with its being mentioned so prominently in the Prologue (although
its association with the Troilus would of course be natural enough in any
case). This gives another point of contact between the Prologue and
Deschamps.
822 JOHN L. LOWES.
was the opportunity for a brilliant and effective occasional
poem, and also the psychological moment for launching his
collection of stories of women " trewe as steel." Suppose
the Troilus to have been still the talk of the court, and one
can picture the zest with which the clever turn given in
the Prologue to the passing comment would be welcomed.
Suppose on the other hand the Troilus to have been written
long before, and all the touch and go, all the exquisite
aptness, of the retort is gone.1 Either the Prologue and
the Troilus, then, lie close together, or Chaucer, we must
believe, for once arrived very late upon the scene. The
alternative seems scarcely a real one.
The impression of a close relation between the Troilus and
the Prologue, moreover, is materially heightened by the fact
pointed out in the earlier part of this discussion,2 that in the
B-version of the Prologue Chaucer makes use of three of
the opening stanzas of the Filostrato, which he had rejected
in the composition of the Troilus. I have attempted, in the
passage referred to, to show that the earlier rejection of
the stanzas from the Troilus was due to causes wholly inde-
pendent of the merits of the lines themselves, while their
inclusion in the Prologue demonstrates the appeal their
beauty must have made even at the time when for other
reasons they were passed over. And it is at least a fair
inference that the Filostrato had not long ceased to occupy
Chaucer's mind when this singularly apt transfer of lines
too good to lose was made. The references in the Troilus to
Alcestis and to the theme of the Legend; the fashion in
1 The god of Love himself knew better :
For who-so yeveth a yift, or doth a grace,
Do hit by tyme, his thank is wel the more.
Sis dot qui cito dat !
s Pubs. Mod. Lang. Assoc., xix, 618-626.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 823
which the Troilus itself is made the occasion for the Pro-
logue and the Legend; the use in the Prologue of the
stanzas from the Filostrato, all serve, accordingly, to create
a strong presumption in favor of a date for the Troilus not
far from that of the first form of the Prologue.
There is, however, what seems at first sight to be, in the
mention of Troilus and " la belle Creseide " in Gower's
Mirour de POmme, discussed in a very important article by
Professor Tatlock in the first volume of Modern Philology,1 a
fatal objection to any view which closely connects in time the
Troilus and the Prologue. " Obviously," Professor Tatlock
believes, "the reference cannot be to the Filostrato; " Chaucer's
poem is "the only English work before the end of the
century which treats the story at all " ; and " Gower spells
the heroine's name with a C, though it is (rreseida in Boccaccio
and -Briseida (or J?riseide) in Benoit de S. Maur and Guido
delle Colonne. ... So early a passage," he concludes, " as
that which mentions the Troilus, 11. 5245-56, can hardly
have been written later than 1376. Therefore, unless it can
be proved either that Gower's reference is not to Chaucer's
poem, or that this portion of the Mirour was written later
than is supposed, we must accept 1376 as the latest possible
date for Chaucer's Troilus and Criseyde." 2
Despite one's respect for Professor Tatlock's judgment, one
is still compelled rigidly to examine the conclusions he has so
convincingly stated. And first of all, why is it obvious that
Gower's reference cannot be to the Filostrato ? Waiving for
a moment the question of the initial letter of the heroine's
name, even though one grant that Chaucer was the only
Englishman then likely to possess a copy of Boccaccio's
poem (a large concession, be it said in passing) the fact
1 1, 317 ff. The passage from the'Mrowr is quoted in full on p. 831 of the
present article.
3Ib., pp. 323-24.
824 JOHN L. LOWES.
remains that the reference in question happens to be made
by precisely the one other Englishman most likely to know
about that (possibly unique) copy. For this premise of Pro-
fessor Tatlock' s seems not only in general to overlook the
probability that Chaucer would speak of his new finds to his
friends, but in this particular instance to assume that precisely
the friend and brother-poet to whom the completed Troilus was
dedicated learned then for the first time to know " la geste
de Troilus et de la belle Creseide." One seems bound, on
the other hand, to take distinctly into account the possibility
that John Gower, and others as well, might very readily
have known the Filostrato, or at all events its story, before
Chaucer put pen to paper for his Troilus.1 Moreover, is
it not after all entirely beside the point to assume with
Tatlock that the poem to which Gower refers "is most
probably in English, for though Gower's poem is in French,
he had England chiefly in mind"? But what England?
Gower's own French and Latin poems were presumably also
written for Englishmen, and his countrymen who could read
them could certainly also read — to go no farther — the French
of Benoit and the Latin of Guido. Tatlock's assumption,
indeed, seems to overlook the obvious fact that Gower was
1Such seems also to be Professor Macaulay's opinion. For Tatlock
(p. 322, n. 3), in crediting to Hamilton (Chancels Indebtedness to Guido
ddk Colonne, p. 136) the discovery of the reference, has apparently over-
looked the fact that Macaulay himself had made use of it in his edition of
Gower : "This [i, e., the Mirour'] was the work upon which Gower's repu-
tation rested when Chaucer submitted Troilus to his judgment, and though
he may have been indulging his sense of humour in making Gower one
of the correctors of his version of that —
' geste
De Troylus et de la belle
Creseide,'
which the moralist had thought only good enough for the indolent
worshipper to dream of in church," etc. ( Works of Gower, I, xii, xiii).
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 825
but one of hundreds of tri-lingual Englishmen, to whom
allusions at least to French and Latin writings would be
perfectly intelligible. If one accept it, by the same token
" danz Catoun " of Somnolent's very next stanza (1. 5266)
was also " probably in English " — to say nothing of Seneca,
Jerome, Augustine, Gregory, Bernard, Ambrose, Tullius,
Boethius, Cassiodorus, Isidore, Horace, Martial, Ovid, Ful-
gentius, Chrysostom, Cyprian, and others not a few, specifi-
cally named in the Mirour.1 There seems to be nothing hi
the reference itself which warrants any definite assertion
whatever as to the language of the " geste " Gower had in
mind.2 Nor does the contention, resting presumably on the
words " la geste " of the original, that " Gower's reference
has little point unless it is to a well-known poem of con-
siderable length on the subject of Troylus and Criseyde
only" seem to bear close inspection. As for the "well-
known," one can but think of the allusion to "al the love
of Palamon and Arcite Of Thebes, thogh the story is knowen
lyte," and of Froissart's reference in the Paradys d' Amours
to the characters in his own Meliador.3 Nor can the state-
ment be made too emphatic that the indubitable fact that
Troilus actually heads the list of lovers in Froissart's
Paradys d' Amours before 1369,4 goes far to break the force
of every argument whatsoever drawn from the supposed
unfamiliarity of the Troilus-Creseyda story before Chaucer's
1iSee Works, ed. Macaulay, I, Ivii-lviii.
lThis consideration breaks the force of Tatlock's statement that Chau-
cer's Troilus "is the only English work before the end of the century
which treats the story at all." As for the accuracy of the statement itself,
one should bear in mind the possibilities in the case of the Laud Troy-book,
as stated by Miss Kemp (Eng. Stud., xxix, 3-6) and discussed by Wulfing
(t&., 377-78, cf. 396).
3 See Kittredge, Englische Studien, xxvi, 330-31.
* Paradys d' Amours, 1. 974; see Tatlock, op. eit,, 323, note; cf. Pubs.
Mod. Lang. Assoc., xix, 648.
826 JOHN L. LOWES.
time. And as regards the restriction of Gower's reference
to a poem of considerable length on the subject of Troilus
and Creseida only, precisely the same logic would lead
us to conclude, for example, that Froissart's references
to his "trettie's amoureus de Pynoteus et de Neptisphele," l
or his "livret de Pynoteus et de Neptisphele" as he more
frequently calls it,2 were to an independent poem of consider-
able length on the subject of Pynoteus and Neptisphele:
only, whereas the story is in fact but an episode in La
Prison Amoureuse itself.3 That the point of Gower's allu-
sion depends in the least on the manner in which the story
referred to was told, it is very difficult to see.4
Tatlock's argument, then, that Gower's reference is to
Chaucer's Troilus, rests in the last analysis on a single letter,
the initial C of the heroine's name, and despite the seeming
triviality of the detail the logic is at first blush amazingly
convincing. But it in turn rests, as a matter of fact, on certain
assumptions of doubtful validity. One such assumption is'
that Chaucer himself was the innovator in the change from
B or G to C. On the other hand there is undoubtedly
a possibility for which Tatlock's own reference5 to the
facts gives ample evidence. " On sait," says Morf in his
review6 of Gorra's Testi inediti di storia Trojana, "que
Boccace dans le Filostrato appelle 1' heroine Griseida et non
1 Oeuvres, ed. Scheler, I, 286. 2 16., I, 287, 323, 327, 340.
8 LI. 1316-1995. Froissart's reference is, indeed, doubly suggestive, for
it seems to obviate entirely any necessity of assuming that the Man of Law's
statement, "In youthe he made of Ceys and Alcion" (B. 57), refers to
an originally separate work of Chaucer's rather than to the existing episode
in the Soak of the Duchesse.
4 The bearing of this is manifest upon Tatlock's reference to the Troilus
as the only work known in the fourteenth century except the Fihstrato,
"in which the story of Troilus forms anything but an episode."
6 Op. tit., p. 323, n. 1.
6 Romania, xxi, 101, n. 1, referred to by Tatlock.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 827
Briseida, et c'est sans doute 1'influence de son po&me qui a
amen6 quelque copiste des versions de Guido a introduire
Criseida, Griseida, dans leurs texts (ainsi dans les MSS.
Palat. 154 (1374) et 89-44 (xve siecle) de A et le MS.
Gadd.— 45 (xve siecle) de C)." As early as 1374, then, at
least one MS. of Guido had been influenced by Boccaccio in
this very detail.1 Not only so, but there is unimpeachable
evidence that very little later than Chaucer's time Boccac-
cio's G had become C in the independent French rendering
of the Filostrato itself. The translation of Pierre de Beauvau
was made at the extreme end of the fourteenth century or
during the first years of the fifteenth.2 Of this translation
there are in the Bibliotheque nationale at Paris six MSS., all
but one of which have Creseide, the sixth having Briseida.3
One of the five MSS. with initial C can be dated, by the arms
it bears, between 1407 and 1409 ; the others have no date,
but are assigned to the fifteenth century.4 That is to say,
before Chaucer wrote, the form in C was not only certainly
known, but may well enough have been familiar through
MSS. of Guido influenced as above.5 It may even have
existed independently in the MSS. of the Filostrato itself,
under the influence of the well-known name of the other
aTatlock seems to have overlooked MS. Palat 154 in Morf's state-
ment, for he refers only to the G and C " in some fifteenth century MSS. of
Guido" (loc. tit.).
sMoland et d' He*ricault, Nouvelles fran$ oises du XIVe siede, pp. ci-ciii,
cf. 121. Tatlock's reference to it as a "late French romance" is
perhaps slightly misleading — though in the previous note he gives its date
as above.
8 lb., pp. cxxxiv-v.
*J6., p. cxxxiv.
'Moreover, "Armannino a pre'ce'de' Boccace en appelant la fille de Calcas
Criseida" (Morf, loc. eit.). "Mais," Morf goes on, "iln'a guSre e'te' le
modele de Boccace parce qu' il ne parle pas des amours de Criseida et de
Troilus." The fact, however — to which Tatlock also refers — does show
still further the danger of basing any chronological argument upon the
form of the name.
828 JOHN L. LOWES.
Cryseide, the daughter of Cryses — the very analogy which,
with a possible side-glance at the etymology of the name,1
seems to have led Boccaccio himself to make the change
from B to G. For that the analogy was likely to be carried
one step farther, the actual C of the French translator, or
of his copyist, makes clear.2
There is, however, another tacit assumption involved in
the conclusion under examination — the assumption, namely,
that the MS. of the Mirour in its testimony regarding the
crucial letter stands without doubt for Gower's reading and
not the scribe's. Now unless it can be proved that the MS.
itself is of even date with the poem it contains, there is the
distinct possibility that an original B or G may have been
changed in transcription by a slightly later scribe under the
influence of Chaucer's work. That such things happened,
we know from the influence of the Filostrato on the MSS. of
Guido above referred to, and from a curiously apposite
instance in England itself. For in two passages in the MS.
of the Laud Troy-book an original Brixeida. has been changed
by another hand to Oesseida.3 Just that has not happened
in the case of Gower's MS., for through the very great
courtesy of Mr. Jenkinson, Librarian of the Cambridge
University Library, I have the assurance, on his own veri-
fication, that the word is " Creseida without trace of erasure
1 See Herzberg, Jahrbuch der deutschen Shakespeare-Gesellschaft, vi, 197 :
"Boccaccio wollte die Chriseis als die Goldige gedeutet wissen." It must
be remembered that Gower himself — and we may be sure Chaucer — knew
of the "faire maiden" who "cleped is Criseide, douhter of Crisis (Conf.
Amantis, v, 6443-44 ; cf. Hyginus, Fab. 121 : Chryseidam Apollinis sacer-
dotis filiam), as distinguished from Criseida the daughter of Calchas.
3 One may put the matter thus: Supposing Chaucer's Troiius never to
have existed, would such a reference as Gower's, on the basis of known
relations of the other versions of the story, have seriously puzzled any one
for a moment ?
sEng. Stud., xxix, 5, 377.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 829
or alteration." But any copyist after Chaucer's poem was
known might readily in the first instance have written
Oeseida. It is true that the man who knows most about
the MS., its editor, Professor Macaulay, writes : " I have
little doubt that this copy was written under the direction
of the author " ; l and his belief must carry very great
weight. But where a difference of merely eight or ten
years in the date of a MS. might so simply account for the
phenomenon in question, the utmost caution must be exer-
cised in drawing large conclusions from the data. And while
the considerations here offered do not prove "that Gower's
reference is not to Chaucer's poem," they manifestly do
throw grave doubts upon the inference that the allusion
is to the Troilus.
But granting, for the argument, that such is the meaning
of the reference, the "geste" which Sompnolent dreamed
that he heard sung when he had reached the bottom of the
cask was even thus scarcely likely to be the story as Chaucer
finally told it, where the stress lay heaviest on the tragedy,
" how Crisseyde Troilus forsook," 2 and where " yonge
freshe folkes, he or she " were warned to repair home " from
worldly vanitee" ; but rather the story whose vivid climax
was the lovers' meeting. That is to say, Gower's reference
itself seems to apply (if not to Guido, or to the story as
Boccaccio told it) to the Troilus only as it stood before the
fourth and fifth books with their tragic emphasis had been
reached. With the completed Troilus it is entirely out of
keeping. And is it indeed easy to believe in any case — as
one recalls the strangely heightened mood which for once,
1 Works of Gower, i, Ixix. For that matter, if (to pnt a case) the MS.
was written under Gower's direction after the publication of Chaucer's
Troilus, an original Q may have been changed to C by Gower's own orders —
a suggestion for which I am indebted to Professor Kittredge.
3 Troilus, IV, 15, repeated identically in Leg., A. 265, as the theme of the
Troilus.
830 JOHN L. LOWES.
in the closing stanzas, seems to break through all conven-
tions— that the "moral Gower," to whom in these stanzas
the poem was directed, should thus respond to the appeal to
himself and Strode (accompanied as it was by a prayer
to " that sothfast Crist, that starf on rode " )
To vouchen sauf, ther nede is, to corecte,
Of your benignitees and zeles gode ?
If that dedication, couched as it was, made no impression
upon Gower, then Gower was not the man we think we
know; if it did appeal to him, the embodiment thereafter
of the story in a sluggard's drunken dream is scarcely con-
ceivable. If the reference, then, is to Chaucer's handling
of the story at all, it seems to show nothing more than that
at the time when it was made the Creseyde story had begun
to engage the attention of Chaucer and his friends.
But when was the reference made? Tatlock thinks
hardly later than 1376. That, however, is to contract the
limits a good deal more closely than Macaulay himself,
who cautiously says of the Mirour : " On the whole we shall
not be far wrong if we assign the composition of the book to
the years 1376-1379 "j1 while Tatlock admits an addi-
tion as late as 1378.2 Where there is one addition there
may be others, and there seems to be no valid reason why
Sompnolent's stanza should not have been written at any
time up to 1379. On the contrary, some countenance seems
to be given the suggestion of a possible insertion of the very
stanza in question by the fact that its account of Sompno-
lent's prayers au matin is not altogether consistent with an
earlier passage in the same description wherein it is stated
that Sompnolent au matin leaves the labor of his prayer to
nun and friar :
1 Works of Gower, I, xliii.
2 Op. cit., p. 324, n. 3 ; cf. Macaulay, op. tit. , p. xlii.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 831
Car lore se couche a l£e chiere,
Ne ja pour soun de la clochiere
Au matin se descouchera :
Aim le labour de sa priere
Laist sur la Nonne et sur lefrere ;
Asses est q'il ent soungera.1
Moreover, there is, as it happens, a puzzling parallel
which seems to give still further color to the sugges-
tion that the reference under discussion may not have
belonged to the poem from the first. It may be well to
recall specifically the stanza in the Mirour :
Au Sompnolent trop fait moleste,
Quant matin doit en haulte feste
Ou a mouster ou a chapelle
Venir ; mais ja du riens s'apreste
A dieu prier, ainz bass la teste
Mettra tout suef sur 1'eschamelle,
Et dort, et songe en sa cervelle
Qu'il est au bout de la tonelle,
U qu'il oi't chanter la geste
De Troylus et de la belle
Creseide, et ensi se concelle
A dieu d'y faire sa requeste.1
In the B-text of Piers the Plowman occur the following
lines :
Thanne come Sleuthe al bislabered • with two slymy eijen :
' I most sitte,' seyde the segge • ' or elles shulde I nappe ;
I may noujte stonde ne stoupe • ne with-oute a stole knele.
Were I broujte abedde * but if my taille-ende it made,
Sholde no ryngynge do me ryse 'ar I were rype to dyne.'
He bygan benedicite with a bolke • and his brest knocked,
And roxed and rored • and rutte atte laste.
' What ! awake, renke ! ' quod Repentance ', ' and rape the to shrifte.'
' If I shulde deye bi this day • me liste nou3te to loke ;
/ can noujte perfitly my pater-noster ' as the prest it syngeth,
But I can rymes of Robyn Hood • and Randol/ erle of Chestre,
Ac neither of owre lorde ne of owre lady • the leste that euere was made.5
1 LI. 5179-84. z LI. 5245-56.
"Passus v, 392-403 ; C-text, Passus vin, 1-12; not in A-text ; see ed.
Skeat, i, 166. I am indebted for this reference to a lecture of Professor
Kittredge's.
832 JOHN L. LOWES.
The parallel between the two passages may of course be
accidental ; it is striking enough, however, to carry with
it at least the possibility that one influenced the other.
If that be true, there can be little doubt which was the
borrower. It is scarcely probable that the Mirour, whose
limited circulation is indicated by the fact that but one MS.
is known, influenced William Langland ; that, on the other
hand, Langland's immensely popular poem, of which Pro-
fessor Skeat enumerates forty-five MSS., should have been
known to Gower there is every probability. And that for
the folk-rhymes in the head of Sleuthe there should be
substituted the bookish geste of Sompnolent's dream is what,
from Gower, we should naturally expect. But the date of
the beginning of the B-text of the Vision is the earlier part
of 1377.1 Even apart, then, from the considerations already
urged regarding the force of the allusion, we can scarcely be
certain that Gower's reference to Troilus and Creseyde much, if
at all, preceded 1379, nor, indeed, can we be positive that
it greatly antedated 13 8 1.2 So long, accordingly, as there
is no valid reason for supposing that Gower was referring to
an English poem, or to one which dealt exclusively with
Troilus and Creseyde ; so long, too, as at least one MS. of
Guido antedating 1376 — and others later — has the initial
(?, as has also the still earlier Armannino and the very
slightly later MS. 112 (with the majority of the other MSS.)
of the French translation of the FUostrato ; so long as scribal
influence, even a trifle later, by the Troilus remains a possi-
bility, we seem scarcely justified in concluding " that the
probabilities are overwhelmingly in favor of the view that
1Ed. Skeat, n, p. xii, cf. xi-xiv.
2 "On the whole we may conclude without hesitation that the book was
completed before the summer of the year 1381" (Macaulay, op. cit., i,
p. xlii ), though, as Macaulay continues, ' ' there are some other considerations
which will probably lead us to throw the date back a little further than
this."
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 833
Gower is referring to Chaucer's poem." Moreover, so long
as even a possibility remains of the addition of the stanza in
question up to 1379 or possibly 1381, it seems scarcely
wise, on the strength of the allusion, to "accept 1376 as
the latest possible date for Chaucer's Troilus and Cris-
eyde." I confess to great disappointment at having to
give up, for myself, what seemed at first (and to others
may still seem) a bit of solid rock in the general chaos.
But there are too many other possible explanations of the
reference in question to allow one safely to use it as a
cornerstone in Chaucer chronology. That Gower may have
known, possibly through Chaucer, the story of the Filostrato
at some time before 1379-81 seems all that it is safe to say;
and even so, Guido still remains a possibility.
We seem to be thrown back, then, upon that " a priori
argument against an early date for the Troilus " which Pro-
fessor Tatlock admits "must remain, not only weightier than any
of the other arguments, but one which can be counterbalanced
only by a strong piece of unequivocal evidence " * — the argu-
ment, that is, from " the length, excellence and maturity of
the Troilus," and the difficulty of believing "that it was
finished within three or four years of Chaucer's first visit to
Italy and his first acquaintance with the works of Boccac-
cio." 2 I had earlier hoped to consider in some detail the
evidence offered by the Troilus itself of a maturity in certain
respects little (if at all) short of that evinced by the more repre-
sentative Canterbury Tales, but such a study will have to be
postponed.3 It must suffice at present to call attention to a
very few significant facts which seem to indicate that from
1 Op. tit., p. 322. *Loc.cit.
8 1 hope at some time to be able to go on with a study, already begun, of
the Troilus in its relation to the Filostrato ( and, as far as possible, to Benoit
and Guido), with special reference to just this question of Chaucer's artistic
methods as shown in his management of his materials.
11
834 JOHN L. LOWES.
the Troilus Chaucer probably passed with but short interval
to the supreme exercise of his powers in the Canterbury Tales
themselves.
In the first place, the paramount interest of the Troilus,
as in absolutely none of Chaucer's other work except the
greatest of the Canterbury Tales, is in men and women. One
may, perhaps, go a little farther. For even among Chaucer's
men and women one feels at least two great groups. Those
of the one belong first to the Middle Ages ; those of the
other first and always to Geoffrey Chaucer. One need only
recall together the Duchess Blanche, the women of the
Legends, Cecilia, Virginia, Constance, Griselda, even Emily
and Palamon and Arcite themselves to feel between them
all a certain unmistakable kinship. In order really to know
any of them one must think mediaeval thoughts and see life
under unfamiliar prepossessions and conventions, and even
so their world remains a somewhat alien one. They are
unmistakably the work of a great poet, but one thinks of
him first and last as a great mediaeval poet.1 As soon, how-
ever, as one recalls Nicholas and Alison, Daun John and
the merchant's wife, the affable Devil and the Somnour of
the Frere's Tale, the Friar and Thomas of the Somnour's
retort, the " chanoun of religioun " and his dupe, the Wife of
Bath and Harry Bailly, one is on totally different ground.
It is wholly fortuitous that they date from the fourteenth cen-
tury ; their engaging rascality and infinite bonhomie demand
for their appreciation no introduction to a mediaeval point of
view. Save for the accident of language, they are contem-
poraries of Falstaff and Sir Toby and Autolycus, or of their
remoter kin in Fielding and Thackeray. That some such
broad distinction, phrase it how one will, holds good among
1 This does not in the least overlook the infinite variety of the life of the
Middle Ages. But underlying that variety there are none the less certain
common characteristics which one thinks of as par excellence "mediaeval."
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 836
Chaucer's characters, no one will be likely to deny. But
just this attainment of an attitude which is a solvent for
whatever is merely accidental and of the poet's times is one
of the surest marks of the maturity of such Tales as the
Shipman's, the Somnour's, the Frere's, the Miller's, and
the rest whose characters have just been named. And the
significant thing for the present discussion is that Pandare's
affiliations are wholly with this latter group, Creseyde's also
to a large degree, and even Troilus's to a less extent.1 That
is to say, we are never in the Troilus long away from people
scarcely less real than those who later played the little drama
on the road to Canterbury.2
But even more, perhaps, than in the paramount place it
gives, not to types, but to living people, the Troilus claims
kin with the greater Canterbury Tales in a certain paradoxi-
cal attitude towards the very life in which it manifests so
keen an interest. For in the maturer Tales, despite all (and
even that too little) that has been said of Chaucer's breadth
of sympathy, his " knowledge of human nature which comes
of sympathetic insight," is it not after all something very
different which is their more distinctive note — a certain
ddachment, not easily defined, but clearly felt ; a curious
sense of the presence, behind all the actors, of an entirely
unsolicitous spectator of the play ? It is rarely absent when
the Wife of Bath, the Nun's Priest, the Pardoner, the
Miller, the Canon's Yeomen are on the stage ; it becomes
absolutely quintessential in the Envoy to Scogan. And in
the Troilus, whenever Pandare speaks, one is no less curiously
aware of something in the background — like Meredith's
1 That happens to be also the order of their divergence from Boccaccio.
JThe fact — if I may adapt a suggestion of Professor Kittredge's — that
the characters of the Troilus are drawn at full length, as in a work of (let
us say) Thackeray's, while the others are treated with the superb com-
pression of Kipling's short stories, should not blind one to their parallel
realism.
836 JOHN L. LOWES.
Comic Spirit, with its "slim feasting smile" — which is play-
ing the game with Pandare no less urbanely and ironically
than he with Troilus or Creseyde. I am conscious of the
danger of arguing from what may be regarded as an
impression ; but it is precisely this feeling of detachment,
of disinterestedness, of supreme lightness of touch in the
characterization of Pandare (and this is mainly Chaucer's,
not Boccaccio's) which seems to me to point most clearly to
a ripeness little short of that of the crowning period itself.
It is the embodiment of a point of view which one thinks
of as coming, however native the bent that way, with years ;
and the embodiment itself has the utter freedom from effort
which goes with a mastered art.1
This sovereign ease itself, moreover, is perhaps seen most
clearly in connection with another characteristic of the
Troilus which it has in common with the admittedly later
Tales — its marvellous mastery of dialogue. I shall quote
but one typical example, a few of the stanzas describing the
first visit of Pandare at Creseyde's house :
Whan he was come un-to his neces place,
' Wher is my lady ? ' to hir folk seyde he ;
And they him tolde ; and he forth in gan pace,
And fond, two othere ladyes sete and she
With-inne a paved parlour ; and they three
Herden a mayden reden hem the geste
Of the Sege of Thebes, whyl hem leste.
1 Pandare' s unfailing urbanity, too, his infinite savoirfaire, his Mephisto-
phelean plausibility are possibly equalled, scarcely surpassed, in the graceless
intriguers of the later Tales. Moreover, one finds in Pandare, as in them,
the same gift of being all things to all men. Few details seem better to
show Chaucer's immense superiority in characterization to Boccaccio than
his subtle differentiation between the Pandare who talks with Creseyde, and
the Pandare who deals with Troilus. It is really far subtler (for the canvas
is larger) than the changes of tactics of which Daun John or the Somnour's
Frere are past masters, and it certainly adds its quota to one's feeling of the
maturity of power that underlies the Troilus.
THE LEGEND OP GOOD WOMEN. 837
Quod Pandarus, ' ma dame, god yow see,
With al your book and al the companye ! '
'Ey, uncle myn, welcome y-wis,' quod she,
And up she roos, and by the hond in hye
She took him faste, and seyde, ' this night thrye,
To goode mote it turne, of yow I mette ! '
And with that word she doun on bench him sette.
' Ye, nece, ye shal fare wel the bet,
If god wole, al this yeer,' quod Pandarus ;
1 But I am sorry that I have yow let
To herknen of your book ye preysen thus ;
For goddes love, what seith it? tel it us.
Is it of love ? O, som good ye me lere I '
' Uncle,' quod she, ' your maistresse is not here ! '
With that they gonnen laughe, and tho she seyde,
'This romance is of Thebes, that we rede.'. . .
' As ever thryve I,' quod this Pandarus,
'Yet coude I telle a thing to doon you pleye.'
' Now uncle dere,' quod she, ' tel it us
For goddes love ; is than th'assege aweye?
I am of Grekes so ferd that I deye.'
' Nay, nay,' quod he, ' as ever mote I thryve I
It is a thing wel bet than swiche fyve.'
' Ye, holy god ! ' quod she, ' what thing is that?
What ? bet than swiche fyve ? ey, nay, y-wis 1
For al this world ne can I reden what
It sholde been ; som jape, I trowe, is this ;
And but your-selven telle us what it is,
My wit is for to arede it al to lene ;
As help me god, I noot nat what ye mene.'
' And I your borow, ne never shal, for me,
This thing be told to yow, as mote I thryve ! '
'And why so, uncle myn? why so?' quod she.
' By god,' quod he, ' that wole I telle as blyve ;
For prouder womman were ther noon on-lyve,
And ye it wiste, in al the toun of Troye ;
I jape nought, as ever have I joye ! ' l
It would be hard to find even in the Canterbury Tales a
more superb handling of dialogue than that. The trouble
JBk. H, 11. 78-100, 120-140.
838 JOHN L. LOWES.
is, it is so absolutely natural that one forgets entirely the
technique that lies behind it. To keep all the touch and go
of actual talk, all its interjections, its half-questions, its
repetitions, its endless nuances that connote everything and
denote nothing — to keep all that without becoming trivial on
the one hand or stilted on the other, is itself no small
achievement, as its rarity attests.1 To do it in verse whose
predetermined movement never for an instant intrudes itself
upon the seeming impromptu, the quick fence and parry of
the dialogue, is something which even Chaucer perhaps suc-
ceeded in doing only in the Troilus and in certain of the
Canterbury Tales.
Morever, the sheer narrative power of the Troilus seems
scarcely to have been adequately recognized. Here again
one is perhaps in danger of forgetting that the laws of the
novel are not those of the short story ; certainly, to apply to
the one genre the categories of the other is scarcely logical.
It is impossible at this point to develop what I believe to be
demonstrable : namely, that in the handling of a large and
complex mass of material Chaucer shows hardly less con-
structive power than in the shorter Tales. Nor can another
1 Chaucer's use, to take a single point, of conversational repetition (as,
for instance, in lines 122, 127-8, 136) is consummately realistic, and yet
escapes entirely the touch of caricature which one feels in certain modern
attempts, notably Maeterlinck's earlier ones, to lend similar verisimilitude
to dramatic dialogue. Moreover, to an astonishing, for myself to an
unequalled, degree, the rapid dialogue of the Troilus, particularly when
Pandare is speaking, possesses actual vocalizing and visualizing power.
That is, it carries with it, to the mental ear and eye, its own tones and
inflections, even its own subtle play of gesture. The effect seems due, in
part at least, to the presence of so large a number of the purely connotative
words and phrases just referred to, which in actual speech are little more
than vehicles for certain familiar tones and cadences, with their attendant
shrugs, or lifted eyebrows, or whatever fugitive gesture it may be. The
art with which in the rapid dialogue of the Troilus these most evanescent
qualities of speech are caught and kept, and that in verse, is unapproach-
able.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 839
point be more than referred to — -the fact that in very many
of the individual scenes whose sequence constitutes the action
of the Troilua there is shown the same unrivalled touch of
the raconteur which found its final expression in the short
Tales in the decasyllabic couplet.1 Both elements — the
power of larger dramatic construction, and the supreme
narrative quality of certain of the individual scenes — may be
here merely illustrated by one or two of the modifications
which Chaucer has made in Boccaccio's handling of the story.
The long episode of the meeting at the house of Deiphebus,
for instance, which ends the second book of the Troitus and
begins the third, is Chaucer's own invention. What does it
do? In addition to the part it plays in the conquest of
Creseyde, it foreshadows with consummate art two of the great
scenes in the later development of the story. The dinner,
where Creseyde sits and listens to Helen and the others of
the company praising Troilus,
And every word gan for to notifye ;
For which with sobre chere hir herte lough * —
this situation is made the counterpart of the later scene
where, after the blow has fallen, Creseyde sits, once more
thinking of Troilus, among the "route of women" who
talk of " womanische thinges,"
So that she felte almost her herte dye
For wo, and wery of that companye.3
And much of the poignancy of our remembrance " fro heven
1 Professor Price has pointed out in a most suggestive study in Chaucer's
method of narrative construction (Pubs. Mod. Lang. Assoc., XI, 307-
22) that Chaucer "has arranged all the action [of the Troilus'] into a
sequence of fifty scenes." However one may modify the mere number of
scenes, the observation is a very valuable one. A much more elaborate
study of the construction of the Troilus is made in Kudolf Fischer's Zu,
dem Kunstformen des MUtelalterlichen Epos ( Wiener Seitrdge, ix, 1899).
* Troilus, n, 1591-92. »!&., IV, 706-07.
840 JOHN L. LOWES.
unto which helle She fallen was " lies in the subtle echo of
the earlier in the later scene. Above all, the whole situa-
tion l in which Pandare " ladde [Creseyde] by the lappe "
to the bed where Troilus lay, is with marvelous skill made
to foreshadow the great scene where the parts are reversed,
and "Troilus he brought in by the lappe" to Creseyde.3
This time the echo is even more distinct, and few things
could more subtly heighten the insistent sense of an ironi-
cal fate that from this point becomes the dominant note
of the poem.4 That (and it is but one out of many instances)
is dramatic as well as narrative power — the dramatic power
which, in something like the same large compass, one finds
again in the comedy of the framework of the Canterbury
Tales.5
All this evidence — and it is perhaps not altogether subjec-
tive— tends to justify the conviction long ago expressed by
ten Brink, that, " die wahrheit zu sagen, der dichter des
Troylus ist von dem dichter der Canterbury Tales nicht gar
weit mehr entfernt." 6 When one adds to it the further evi-
1 At the opening of the third book. 2 Troilus, m, 59.
8 Ib., iv, 742.
4 In a different way this same sense for dramatic contrasts is shown in the
antithesis, worked out with consummate skill, between the action of the first
book and that of the first part of the second. In the first, the interest
centres about Pandare' s characteristic attempts to extract from the unwill-
ing Troilus the confession of his lady's name ; in the second, it is centred
in Pandare' s shifts and turns, depicted with irresistible humor, to conceal
from Creseyde, while playing incessantly upon her curiosity, her supposed
lover's name. The heightening of the situation in the case of Troilus and
the creation of it in the case of Creseyde are Chaucer's modifications of
Boccaccio. For the wonderful and subtly drawn scene at the beginning
of Bk. II (stanzas 1-37) is Chaucer's expansion of a mere hint in a single
stanza (Filostrato, n, st. 35) of Boccaccio.
8 Pandare is really to the characters of the Troilus something of what —
mutatis mutandis very thoroughly ! — Harry Bailly is to the dramatis personae
of the setting of the Tales.
6Studien, p. 77 ; cf. Englische Studien, xvn, 8 : "Der Troilus zeugt von
grosser kunstlerischer reife und virtuositat und bildet nachst den besten
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 841
dence afforded by the cross-references between the Troilus and
the Prologue to the Legend, and particularly by the presence in
the Prologue of a passage from the Filostrato, and when one
considers the extremely equivocal character of the supposed
testimony from Gower to an early date, the conviction that
the Troilus must be linked very closely in time with the Pro-
logue becomes almost irresistible.
The conclusions so far reached, accordingly, are that most,
perhaps all, of the individual Legends preceded the Prologue ;
that the House of Fame antedated the Ariadne and hence the
Palamon ; and that the Troilus is close to the Prologue. The
essential point now to determine, if possible, is the relation
of the Troilus to the Palamon, which carries with it also the
relation of the Troilus to the House of Fame.
V.
In considering the relation of the Troilus to the Palamon,
the first thing to be noted is that there is evidence which
points with some definiteness to a date for the Palamon in
the very early eighties. Dr. Mather has established a strong
probability, in the essay already referred to,1 that the Palamon
was begun in 1381, nor does any objection to a date very
early in the decade seem to have been pointed out. If the
explanation I have elsewhere2 ventured for the reference to
"the tempest at hir hoom-cominge " be correct, it serves
independently to corroborate Dr. Mather's view. But if
such a date for the Palamon be accepted, it involves at once,
partien der Canterbury Tales zweifellos das bedeutendste werk, das iiber-
baupt aus Chaucer's feder geflossen ist. Schon aus diesen griinden wird
man ihm einen platz gegen den schluss der zweiten periode anweisen
miissen."
lAn English Miscellany, p. 310.
*Mod. Lang. Notes, Dec., 1904, pp. 240-43.
842 JOHN L. LOWES.
if the conclusions just drawn in the case of the Troilus be
sound, the priority of the Palamon to the Troilus. For
clearly, if the Prologue to the Legend be dated not earlier
than 1386 and the Troilus closely preceded it, a poem dated
about 1381-82 can scarcely have followed the Troilus. And,
indeed, there is a curious bit of independent evidence, to
which attention apparently has not been called before, which
seems distinctly to bear out the inference that the Troilus was
the later of the two great treatments of the Italian material.
The main action of both the Troilus and the Knight's Tale
begins with the night of the third of May. In the Troilus it
happened " on Mayes day the thridde " that upon Troilue- fell
....atene
In love, for which in wo to bedde he wente,
And made, er it was day, ful many a wente.1
And thereupon, remembering his errand in Troilus's behalf,
he starts in the morning on his mission to Creseyde, and the
real action of the poem is under way. In the Knight's Tale,
as is well known,
It fel that in the seventhe yeer, in May,
The thridde night (as olde bokes seyn,
That al this storie tellen more pleyn) ....
That, sone after the midnight, Palamoun,
By helping of a freend, brak his prisoun,*
and the next morning occurred the meeting with Arcite in
the woods. Of course (as one may always be pretty sure
when Chaucer protests particularly about his sources) the
" olde bokes " say nothing about the third of May, which is
Chaucer's own date for the event. And the curious thing is
that just the third of May should be chosen at all. The day
seems to have no significance whatever in itself, and the only
other occurrence of it which I have noted (with full cogni-
1 Troilus, n, 56 ff. 2 A. 1462-64, 1467-68.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 843
zance of the peril of universal negatives) is in the Book of
Cupid,1 whose author certainly knew the Knighfs Tale and
probably the Troilus? Chaucer's employment twice of the
same unusual date seems to point clearly to the suggestion of
one instance by the other. But can we tell which was the
original and which the suggested use? There need be little
doubt as to the answer. If in one of the poems the employ-
ment of the third of May is directly dependent upon certain
exigencies of the treatment of the material itself, while in the
other its relation to the story is wholly accidental, we may
be practically certain that the instance which grows out of
the requirements of the story came first, and that it naturally
enough suggested the other — particularly if the two poems
were not far apart in point of time. Now in the Knight? 8
Tale there does seem to be just such a reason. For apart from
the very probable relation of the series in which it stands to
the calendar of the then current year, the third of May forms
in any case an essential part of the carefully calculated
scheme of days and astrological hours on whose every step
explicit emphasis is laid in the poem. In the Troilus, on the
other hand, there seems to be no discernible cause whatever
for the choice. Such weight as the evidence has, then, is
altogether in favor of the priority of the Palamon, already
suggested on other grounds.
And, indeed, when one considers the reasons offered for the
later date of the Palamon 3 (which are not many, for the
case has been largely taken for granted), they seem strangely
inconclusive. The stanzas from the Teseide which appear in
the revised Troilus * have been urged. " If Chaucer," Dr.
1 « 'And hit was tho the Ihridde nyght of May" (1. 55).
2 See p. 753, n. 4.
8 It may be well to say again that this name is uniformly used in this
paper to designate the KnighCs Tale before it was adapted to its position in
the Canterbury Tales.
* Troilus, v, 1807 ff.
844 JOHN L. LOWES.
Mather argues, "on finishing Troilus were free to use these
three stanzas, that is if he had already rejected them in the
Knighfs Tale, it is hard to see why they should not have
appeared from the first in Troilus. Nor is it likely that at
a subsequent season Chaucer should have rummaged in the
unused portions of the Teseide to enrich Troilus, the Parle-
ment of Foules, and Anelida and Arcite. Such a process
suggests unpleasantly literary ' cold storage ' ; it is, I believe,
most unlike Chaucer. For this and other reasons no scholar
has placed the Knighfs Tale before Troilus" l But Dr.
Mather's last sentence, to reverse his order of treatment,
distinctly begs the question. The Knight's Tale exactly as it
stands no one, of course, has placed before the Troilus. The
supposed stanzaic Palamon, on the other hand, has been so
placed explicitly by ten Brink 2 and Koch,3 and impliedly
by Skeat.4 And inasmuch as Dr. Mather's most able paper,
following a suggestion of Mr. Pollard, is itself admittedly
the first explicitly to argue that " Palamon and Arcite . . .
is to all intents and purposes the Knight's Tale as we have
it," his " no scholar " is a veritable man of straw. Nor can
it be fairly urged that it is " unlike Chaucer " to use in the
Troilus (the Parlement and the Anelida do not concern us
here) rejected stanzas from the Teseide, when we now know
that he used in the Prologue to the Legend rejected stanzas
10p. cit., p. §09.
2 " Ueber die enstehungszeit von Palamon and Arcite konnen wir nur das
sagen, dasz diese dichtung vor Troylus and Cryseyde fallt" (Studien,
p. 124).
8 "1 follow Prof, ten Brink in placing the first version of Palamon and
Arcite between the Life of St. Cecily and Troilus" (Essays on Chaucer,
Chaucer Society, p. 396 ).
*"Not wishing, however, to abandon it [i. e., the original Palamon and
Arcite] altogether, Chaucer probably used some of the lines over again in
'Anelida,' and introduced others into the Parlement of Foules and else-
where" (The Prologue, the Knight's Tale, etc., 1898, p. liii).
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 845
from the Filostraio.1 Dr. Mather's first objection seems to
have little more weight ; its logic would compel us to believe
that Chaucer had not translated Boethius when the Troilus
was first written, else why should not the passages from
Boethius found only in the revision 2 have appeared in the
Troilus from the first ? Yet that the translation of Boethius
closely preceded, perhaps overlapped, the composition of the
Troilus appears from the fact that one considerable passage
from Boethius 3 is in all the MSS., while the phraseology of
the Troilus throughout has been strongly influenced by the
De Consolatione. If, accordingly, at least one passage from
Boethius available from the first for the Troilus 4 was not, as
a matter of fact, inserted until the revision, it follows that
the stanzas from the Teseide, which Chaucer was no less " free
to use," may likewise not have occurred to him until the
revision, and Dr. Mather's argument falls to the ground.5
1 This fact, pointed oitt in the earlier part of this discussion (Pubs. Mod.
Lang. Assoc., xixj 618~fi. ), establishes the^omewhat important principle
that it is unsafe to argue, from the presence in a poem X" of fragments from
the source of another poem Y, that the passage has been omitted from Y
because it had been already used in x. That it may have been used in x
because it had been already rejected from Y is not only a priori possible,
but, at least in the case of the Prologue and the FUostrato, actually
demonstrable.
2 Troilus, m, 1744-1768 (De Consolatione, Bk. II, Met. 8) ; rv, 953-1085
(De Consolatione, Bk. V, Pr. 2, Pr. 3). See Globe Chaucer, p. xli, and cf.
Mather, op. cit., pp. 308-09.
8 Troilus, m, 813-33 (De Consolatione, Bk. II, Pr. 4) ; cf. Globe Chaucer,
lac. cit.
4 It should be noted that one of the two added passages (m, 1744-68) is
from the same book of the De Consolatione as the long passage found from
the first in the Troilus (in, 813-33).
5 Once suppose the inadequacy of the treatment of Troilus' s death to
have been noticed by Chaucer when he came, for some reason, to revise the
poem, and it follows as a necessary corollary that he would cast about for
something with which to fill the gap. In other words, the Teseide stanzas
were not inserted, one may suppose, in the first form of the Troilus, simply
because the occasion for using them did not occur to Chaucer — not because
846 JOHN L. LOWES.
More formidable are two objections which (since the order
here suggested seems scarcely, hitherto, to have been seriously
contemplated by anybody) have not been emphasized. One
of them is still concerned with the Teseide stanzas in the
Troilus. 'Why/ Dr. Mather might have gone on to ask,
1 should Chaucer have omitted them from the Palamon in
the first place ' ? To that the most obvious answer would be
that, since he omitted something over 8000 of the 9054 lines
of the Teseide,1 it is not astonishing that he omitted these.
But the matter, of course, is not quite so simple. For in the
Knight? s Tale, in the account of the death of Arcite, occur
the well-known verses :
His spirit chaunged hous, and wente ther,
As I cam never, I can nat tellen wher.
Therfor I stinte, I nara no divinistre ;
Of soules finde I nat in this registre,
Ne me ne list thilke opiniouns to telle
Of hem, though that they wryten wher they dwelle.
Arcite is cold, ther Mars his soule gye.2
Does that not have every appearance of a shift on Chaucer's
part to cover a gap left by the stanzas he has already used ?
Possibly ; yet one is at liberty so to conclude only if there
exists no adequate reason other than that for the omission of
the stanzas here. Such a reason, however, does, I believe,
exist. For one thing, it is supremely characteristic of Chau-
cer to take, unless strong reason to the contrary exist, precisely
the stanzas were not available. It is scarcely fair to confine a poet, in his
revision, to the use of such material only as he has acquired since the first
draught! Tennyson added in 1842, for example, in the Palace of Art, in
order to round out a plan more clearly conceived on revision than in the
first ardor of composition, a passage alluding to Egeria and Numa Pompi-
lius. Are we to suppose that he did not, in 1833, know of the wood-nymph
and the Ausonian king, or that for any reason they were not then available
for use ? Dr. Mather's argument at this point limits entirely too closely a
poet's possible motives in dealing with his work.
1 See Temporary Preface, pp. 104-05. 2A. 2809-15.
THE LEGEND OP GOOD WOMEN. 847
the attitude which he here adopts towards the spirit's
" chaimge of hous " ; l the lines in the Knight's Tale are the
natural Chaucerian reaction upon such suggestions as those
of Boccaccio. In other words it is the omission of the stanzas
which we should expect, and their inclusion anywhere which
really demands accounting for. And here particularly the
insertion of Arcite's vision would be entirely inconsistent
with the profoundly human and frankly naturalistic treatment
of Arcite's sufferings and dying words :
Now with his love, now in his colde grave
Allone, with-outen any companye.
That is Chaucer, not Boccaccio, and after that " the holow-
nesse of the seventhe spere " and the " erratic sterres " would
be an anticlimax indeed. But in the Troilus the case is dif-
ferent. No one, I think, can read the last dozen or sixteen
stanzas of the poem, or indeed Chaucer's own additions and
comments throughout the fifth book, without feeling that for
once his supreme detachment from his characters is gone.
The mood of the close is heightened, almost tumultuous, and
however the inserted stanzas may lack, here and there, success-
ful verbal adaptation to their context, they are manifestly of
a piece with the insistent questionings, " the hitherings and
thitherings " 2 of the farewell to his "litel tregedie." From
considerations, then, characteristic of Chaucer himself and
consistent with his attitude as an artist towards his material,
the omission of the stanzas from the Palamon may be readily
explained.
But a still more serious objection will certainly be raised.
A stanzaic Palamon, it will be said, might readily enough
precede the Troilus, likewise in stanzas. But on the assump-
tion that the Palamon was substantially the Knight's Tale as
1 See especially Legend, 11. 1-9 ; Tr&ilus, n, 894-96.
3 If I may borrow an apt phrase of Professor Kittredge.
848 JOHN L. LOWES.
it stands, is it likely or even possible that work evincing such
mastery of the decasyllabic couplet should be followed (and
that in the case of the most ambitious single poem Chaucer
wrote) by a return to the less flexible, less rapid, stanza ?
The objection has, indeed, a certain force ; but it rests, at
least in part, upon a rather obvious fallacy. A goodly num-
ber of poems which are in stanzas at the same time give evi-
dence of immature workmanship, and are accordingly dated,
with little doubt correctly, early in Chaucer's career. From
these data, however, the jump has far too often been made to
the conclusion that the stanzaic form alone is sufficient evi-
dence of early date. But the stanza is also found as the
vehicle for what is perhaps as flawless work as Chaucer ever
did, the Prioresses Tale and the widely different yet no less
masterly Envoy to Scogan, both of which are certainly late.
What is one to conclude ? Clearly, that the mere fact that
a poem is in stanzas is insufficient evidence on which to base a
contention for early date.1 It must be supplemented by other
evidence of immaturity to be convincing. But the Troilus,
on the contrary, gives every indication of ripened powers,
both in its handling of the stanza itself, and in its treatment
of the material so embodied. The evidence so far, then, is,
to say the least, ambiguous.
But what — ignoring for the moment existing theories — are
the antecedent probabilities in the case? It it likely that
from a metre, the seven-line stanza, his superb mastery of
which was clearly a matter of slow development, Chaucer
should pass at a single bound to full-fledged virtuosity in the
handling of another and a different type ? 2 The only thing
1 See Mr. Pollard's fair and judicial statement of the case in the Chaucer
Primer, pp. 53-54.
2 We are really asked to believe that he not only did that, in the Pro-
logue to the Legend, but that he thereupon proceeded, in the Legends
themselves, to go through the omitted apprentice stages after the event !
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 849
which could justify such a view would be the fact, which
even the most ardent Chaucerian would scarcely venture to
affirm, that all Chaucer's work in the decasyllabic couplet
was of uniform excellence. The entirely natural view would
seem to be (still giving accepted chronology the go-by for
the moment) that, the seven-line stanza once perfectly
mastered, there would develop alongside it — more rapidly,
indeed, because of the skill gained in the earlier poem l — the
new and more flexible metre which finally justified itself as
the instrument of all others best adapted to Chaucer's grow-
ing powers. But that even after the newer, the less tried
medium had begun tntts to justrfy itself "there should still be
use made of the more fantiliar, tfie more *8suf£d instr^jmenL
is precisely what every analogy would lead n$ to expect^
For what the decasyllabic couplet might have done in Chau-
cer's hands when he wrote the Knight's Tale one may scarcely
venture to surmise. What it certainly had not yet done, for
whatever reason, was (among other things) to demonstrate
its possibilities as a vehicle for swift, glancing, prismatic
dialogue, and its flexibility as a medium for all manner of
shifting moods. That his seven-line stanza, whose stops he
knew from its lowest note to the top of its compass, was such
a vehicle, he must have been perfectly sure ; and that under
such circumstances he should return, for the complex and
fascinating problems of the " tempestous matere " whose diffi-
culties he felt,2 to the instrument which, if any, he knew
would "soune after -his fingeringe," is the convincingly
natural thing to expect.
Not only so, but is it fair in any case to ask Chaucer, in
1 It should not be forgotten that the seven-line stanza itself ends in two
decasyllabic couplets.
For in this see the boot hath swich travayle
Of my conning, that unnethe I it stere.
(Troilus, II. 3-4.)
12
850 JOHN L. LOWES.
the interest of a theory, to follow an absolutely rigid system
in the use of his metres — a system which would have pre-
cluded Tennyson and Browning from writing narrative
poems in stanzas after they had perfected their narrative
blank-verse, or Wordsworth from returning, in the White
Doe of Rylstone, for instance, to a stanzaic structure after
such blank- verse as that of Michael and the Prelude ? Deca-
syllabic couplets are good but even a poet may feel that
variety is better :
For though the beste harpour upon lyve
Wolde on the beste souned joly harpe
That ever was, with alle his fingres fyve,
Touche ay o streng, or ay o werbul harpe,
Were his nayles poynted never so sharpe,
It shulde maken every wight to dulle,
To here his glee, and of his strokes fulle.1
That is from Chaucer's one expression of his literary creed
— his Advice to the Players, if one will — and to limit him
relentlessly after a certain point to a single narrative metre
because he had by that time tried it and found it good, comes
perilously near the logic to which Sir Toby's immortal retort
was made. For men are still virtuous, and yet there are
still cakes and ale ; and that the first great use of the couplet
in the Palamon should inexorably debar a last great use of
the stanza in the Troilus there seems no valid reason what-
ever to conclude. Negatively then, the way seems open to
the view that the Palamon antedated the Troilus and Creseyde.
And positively, also, there is much that may be said. It
would be hard to convince one's self that the Teseide, the
poem with which Chaucer played almost as a child plays
with a new toy, was not his first introduction to the fresh
field of Italian literature. In the Ariadne, in the Anelida,
in the Parlement of Foules, in the Troilus, and in the two
forms of the Knight's Tale itself, its material appears, as if its
1 Troilus, II, 1030 ff.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 851
appeal had been so irresistible that Chaucer found it hard to
keep his hands off it, whatever he commenced. It is precisely
what might at any time happen in the case of a work that
has opened up a world of unsuspected possibilities, and has
set one's artistic fingers tingling to begin. The six-fold
treatment of the subject, in some fashion or another, is one
of the most curious, as it is certainly one of the most sugges-
tive, facts in Chaucer's career, and the explanation just
ventured seems at least to be psychologically sound.1 More-
irThis previous preoccupation with the story readily explains, too, the
fact that when he did come at last to the real telling of it, he treated it
with a magnificently free hand. The story had become his, rather than
Boccaccio's, one may guess, before he put pen to paper for the Palamon.
This obviates, too, the objection sure to be raised from the fact that the
Troilus follows more closely than the Knight's Tale its sources. For that,
so far as it is true, the suggestion offered furnishes a reason. But it is only
partly true. For one thing, Chaucer has exercised his freedom in the
Troilus to an extent that one realizes only upon close comparison of
the English poem with the Filostrato. In Bk. I of the Troilus 67 stanzas
(42.9 per cent, of the whole number) are independent of the Filostrato ;
in Bk. II, 192 stanzas (76.5 per cent.) ; in Bk. Ill, 188 stanzas (72.3 per
cent. ) ; in Bk. IV, 65 stanzas (26.7 per cent.) ; in Bk. V, 78 stanzas (29.2
per cent.). Just 50.1 per cent, of Chaucer's stanzas, that is, are wholly
his own, while 206 of Boccaccio's stanzas (28.9 per cent. ) are left untouched.
And of the 49.9 per cent, of Chaucer's stanzas for which he is indebted to
the Filostrato a very large proportion follow Boccaccio only in part, over
and over again breaking away from the Italian after the first two, three,
or four lines, and taking their own course in the two decasyllabic couplets
with which the stanza ends. (See, for examples of this, Bk. I, stanzas 18,
31, 93, 102, 104, 137 ; Bk. II, stanzas 78, 81-83, 157-58, 164, 172, 194 ;
Bk. in, stanzas 6, 56, 58, 60, 188-89, 218, 235, 237-39, 243, 245-46,
256-57, 259, etc.). Moreover, Chaucer in another way uses a freedom in
dealing with the Filostrato which is of a far more mature type than that
exercised in his handling of the Teseide. For the characters of the Teseide
are taken over bodily, with no important modification ; the characters of
the Filostrato, on the other hand, have been transformed from compara-
tively simple, though well-drawn figures, to superlatively complex human
beings. It is scarcely too much to say that Pandare and Creseyde are
Chaucer's own creations — a point, however, which will be considered in
another connection. But the supposed greater freedom of the treatment of
the Teseide is an extremely fallacious argument for the priority of the Troilus.
852 JOHN L. LOWES.
over, an earlier attraction to the Teseide than to the Filostrato
is what we should naturally expect. The interest of the
Teseide is primarily in the story and its romantic setting ; the
actors are scarcely flesh and blood — had they been so, there
never would have been the tale. In the Filostrato, on the
other hand, the supreme interest is the human one — tragedy
or comedy as one takes it ; the story is only the vehicle for
that. Both interests were Chaucer's, and they found their
fusion in the Canterbury Tales; but it seems reasonable to
suppose that the one which carried the simpler problem
would find expression first.
And the actual treatment of the two poems seems to bear
out this conclusion. The characterization in the Kniglii's
Tale is in one key throughout — " a verray parfit gentle " key,
to be sure, but with few over-tones of any sort. The Troilus
runs through the whole gamut. Even Troilus himself is a
much more real person than either Palamon or Arcite, and
to put Emily beside Creseyde is like setting Hermia or
Helena beside the infinite variety of Cleopatra.1 Theseus
and Pandare are scarcely parallel figures, it is true, but the
broad and simple outlines with which Theseus is sketched
offers suggestive enough contrast with the mastery of artistic
methods which gave not less, but greater unity to the match-
less play of sinuous, shifting, chameleon-like moods that one
thinks of in Pandare. For it must once more be recalled
that the Creseyde and the Pandare of the Troilus owe their
complexity almost exclusively to Chaucer, and it is just this
sense of the " splendid ease and instantaneous power," to use
Mr. Kossetti's phrase, with which the supremely diificult
thing has been achieved, that gives one pause when one
thinks of Emily and Palamon and Arcite and Theseus as
ooming later.
1 1 am indebted for the suggestion of the parallel between Creseyde and
Cleopatra to a remark of Professor Kittredge.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 853
Moreover, such a detail as the treatment of the idea of fate
in the two poems seems to be typical of a difference not with-
out suggestion. For in the Knight's Tale the notion of fate
is very explicit ; it is much talked about, but one feels no
sense of its resistless compulsion in the action. One under-
stands clearly from the conversations that fate is, and that it
has much to do with how things will fall out, but it remains
a deus ex machina to the end. In the Troilus, on the other
hand, it is not what is said about it that one recalls, though
not a little is said. It is the way in which it broods over
and is implicit in the action, growiugly to the end, until in
the five stanzas1 in which Creseyde, alone, takes her real
leave of Troilus one reaches, without a word of fate itself, the
most subtle, as in the last two lines the most poignant,
expression of its tragic irony :
And giltelees, I wool wel, I you leve ;
But al shal passe ; and thus take I my leve. *
And as in its treatment of fate, so in a hundred other ways
the Troilus is inexhaustibly suggestive — suggestive after a
fashion for which perhaps Hamlet offers, longo intervatto though
it be, the only adequate parallel. What the Knights Tale has
to give (and it is much 3) it gives at once. And that grow-
1 Bk. V, 1051-1085.
3 Equally subtle and no less characteristic in their fatalism are the lines
that give Pandare's attitude towards Troilus' s confidence that Creseyde will
return :
Pandare answerde, ' It may be, wel y-nough ! '
And held with him of al that ever he seyde ;
But in his herte he thoughte, and softe lough,
And to him-self f ul sobrely he seyde :
'From hasel-wode, therjoly Robin pleyde,
Shal come al that that thou abydest here ;
Ye, fare-wel al the snow of feme yere I '
(TroUus, v, 1170 ff.).
3 For it is not so much relative merits as it is relative methods with which
we are here concerned.
854 JOHN L. LOWES.
ing suggestiveness is apt to betoken growing maturity, one
need scarcely stop to argue. Artistic considerations, in a
word, seem again to bear out the conclusion reached on the
basis of evidence of another sort, and to point to the priority
of the Palamon.
VI.
But if the Palamon preceded the Troilus, the conclusion
carries with it another important inference. For we have
already seen that the Hous of Fame preceded the Palamon.
It follows at once, then, that the Hous of Fame was written
before instead of after the Troilus — a conclusion which runs
squarely counter to the conventional view of the relations of
the two poems. And yet, as in the previous cases, I believe
the conclusion justifies itself on other grounds. For it is a
fair statement of the facts of the case to say that the whole
argument for the later date of the Hous of Fame rests on the
supposed fact that the "som comedie" in which Chaucer
prayed that he might " make " before he died,1 referred by
anticipation to the Hous of Fame. In other words, it is
upon the sole suggestion of the single word " comedie " that
the whole laboriously constructed parallel between the Hous
of Fame and the Divina Comedia depends.2 But so to argue
1 Troilus, v, 1786-88.
2 " Wir haben es wahrscheinlich gemacht, dasz Chaucer an jener stelle
der dantische begriff der komodie wie der tragodie vorschwebte, folglich
dass er dabei an Dantes gottliches gedicht dachte" (ten Brink, Studien,
p. 122) — and so arose the Hous of Fame. The fallacy of the arguments
hitherto urged, particularly by Eambeau (Eng. Stud., m, 209-68) in
support of the supposed parallel has been recently shown in an entirely
convincing way by Mr. W. O. Sypherd, in a discussion to be available later,
and it has accordingly seemed unnecessary to go farther into the question
here. For that reason, in what follows regarding the Hous of Fame, I
have confined myself to what is absolutely necessary for my present purpose.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 855
is, in the first place, to take Chaucer with painfully mechan-
ical literalness. For one thing, the obvious opportunity for
antithesis and the manifest " scarsitee " of rhymes for tregedie
break materially the force of the argument for a definite
allusion in the word. Opposition in sense and similarity in
sound have together doomed tragedy and comedy, like death
and life, heaven and hett, to dog each other's foot-steps even
more unfailingly than Pope's breeze and trees or creep and
sleep,1 and any argument built on the fact that one does thus
follow the other is precarious indeed.2 What Chaucer seems
to be expressing here, rather than a determination to write a
Dantesque comedy, is a wish for a complete change of theme 3
— a very specific and personal application of the general law
lRemedie, which rhymes with tragedie in B. 3183, 3974, is about the only
other word there was to use.
3 One feels, too, by the way, that "or elles songe" of 1. 1797 is a rhyme-
tag which, rather than something else, is there because "tonge" ends the
preceding line. A somewhat important application of the same principle may
be made in the case of the reference to the Romaunce of the Rose in the
Prologue (A. 254-55 = B. 328-329). For any conclusions regarding
the nature of Chaucer's translation of the poem drawn from the phrase
" with-outen nede of glose" (so B ; "hit nedeth nat to glose" in A.) are
vitiated by the fact that some such rhyme-tag in "glose" habitually
accompanies references to the Romaunce of the Rose. (It is of course
"Rose" that is the determining word in the rhyme, independently of its
position in the second line of the couplet). Cf. Machault (quoted in
Sandras, Etude, p. 289) : La fin du Romans de la Rose, II m'est avis qu'il
a escript, Je ne scay en texte ou en glose, etc. ; Christine de Pisan ( Oeuvres,
ed. Roy, ii, 78) : Bien en parla le Romans de la Rose A grant proces et
aucques ainse glose Ycelle amour, etc. ; Book of the Duchesse, 11. 333-34 :
the walles. . . . Were peynted, bothe text and glose, Of al the Romaunce
of the Rose, etc.
3 One should compare, for the spirit of the thing, the closing lines of the
Parlement of Foules :
I hope, y-wis, to rede so somday
That I shal mete som thing for to fare
The bet ; and thus to rede I nil not spare.
Cf., too, the Prologue to the Nun's Priests Tale, and Troilus, v, 367-73.
856 JOHN L. LOWES.
of action and reaction which he had stated earlier in the
Troilus :
For I have seyn, of a ful misty morwe
Folwen ful ofte a mery someres day ;
And after winter folweth grene May.
Men seen alday, and reden eek in stories,
That after sharpe shoures been victories.1
It is a sharply contrasted subject that he wants to treat, in a
totally different mood, and the thing which only a preconceived
theory could well have kept ten Brink and his followers
from seeing at once is the fact that the " comedie " line had
its perfect parallel two stanzas back :
And gladlier I wol ivriten, if yow leste,
Penelopees trouthe and good Alceste.
There is the same antithesis between the story he has been
telling and a theme that he prefers to treat, save that in this
case the theme is named, in general terms, and corresponds,
as we have seen, with the Prologue to the Legend. In other
words, the tregedie-comedie lines immediately follow a passage
in which both Prologue and Legend are anticipated, and the
theme of the Prologue contrasted with that of the Troilus.2
When one turns to the Prologue and finds the same contrast
explicitly drawn, the conclusion is irresistible that far more
definite than any allusion to a specific comedie is the forward
reference to the happy change of theme from Creseyde to
Alcestis which found embodiment later in the Prologue.
And thus once more the Troilus and the Prologue are closely
linked together.
But does the conclusion that the Hous of Fame preceded
the Troilus find warrant on other grounds ? Professor Kit-
tredge has pointed out 3 an extremely curious and suggestive
1 Trmlus, m, 1060-64.
2 All this close relation of the tregedie-comedie lines to their immediate
context ten Brink's theory is forced to ignore.
8 In his Chaucer seminary.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 857
fact in connection with the Hous of Fame and the Troilus.
In the Hous of Fame, as is well known, Chaucer seems to
have oddly blundered in translating Virgil's phrase, in his
account of Fame : " pedibus celerem et pernicibus alis.1
Chaucer's lines, it will be remembered, are :
And on hir feet wexen saugh I
Partriches winges redely,2
as if he had confused pernicibus with perdicibus.3 But Vir-
gil's phrase also appears in the Troilus :
The swifte Fame, whiche that false thinges
Egal reporteth lyk the thinges trewe,
Was thorugh-out Troye y-fled with preste winges
Fro man to man.*
The lines are here taken directly from the Filostrato :
La fama velocissima, la quale
II falso e'l vero ugualmente rapporta,
Era volata con prestissim 'ale
Per tutta Troia ! 5
Is it possible, now, to believe that after Chaucer knew and
had actually used the apt phrase "preste winges," which
perfectly translates Virgil's pernicibus alls, he should have
made the blunder about the "partriches winges" in the
Hous of Fame ? The assignment of the Hous of Fame to
the earlier date obviates at once the difficulty, and the point
accordingly bears out the conclusion independently reached
through the relation of the Hous of Fame to the Ariadne
and the Palamon.
Nor must one, indeed, be misled by the admitted virtuosity
which the Hous of Fame displays. Ten Brink was both
right and wrong in his final statement of the case in the pos-
lAmad, iv, 180. * Jff. F., 1391-92.
s Oxford Chaucer, in, 276 ; Lounsbury, Studies in Chaucer, u, 205.
4 Troilus, iv, 659-62. 6FU., IV, st. 78.
858 JOHN L. LOWES.
thumous essay. After speaking of the Troilus l he continues :
"Anderseits bekundet das rascher hingeworfene Hous of
Fame in seiner weise eine so entwickelte technik, eine so
geniale freiheit des dichterischen verfahrens und, bei aller
bescheidenheit, solches selbstgefiihl, dass von ihm durchaus
dasselbe gilt wie von Troilus." 2 Its technique is undeniably
superb. The thing to be kept in mind in this connection,
however, is the fact that it is exercised in the metre of the
Book of the Duchesse — the metre, that is, with which, so far
as we can tell, Chaucer's narrative work began. It has long
been admitted that his mastery of the seven-line stanza was
reached by a process of natural development ; if the infer-
ences of this paper are sound, they demonstrate that the same
thing happened in the case of the decasyllabic couplet. It is-
reasonable to suppose, accordingly, that the technique of the
Hous of Fame stands for a similar development,3 and that
sufficient time lies behind it to account for its virtuosity. But
still another thing seems to be clear from all that has been
said — the fact, namely, that a period of dominant, though not
exclusive, use of the seven-line stanza was succeeded, after a
natural overlapping, by a period of dominant, though not
exclusive, use of the decasyllabic couplet. In each, complete
mastery was attained, as such mastery is likewise reached in
the octosyllabic couplet of the Hous of Fame. A perfectly
reasonable supposition seems to be that as the seven-line
stanza of the Italian period gradually gave way before the
decasyllabic couplet of what one would like to call the
English period, so the characteristic octosyllabic couplet of
the earlier days of French influence yielded place gradually
to the larger possibilities of the stanzaic form. The com-
1 His words may be found on page 840, n. 6 of the present paper.
zEng. Stud., xvn, 8.
3 One may at least indulge surmises as to the probable metre of the trans-
lation of the Romaunce of the Rose.
THE LEGEND OP GOOD WOMEN. 859
plete mastery shown in the Hous of Fame of a somewhat
simple instrument then, seems entirely consistent with the
view that it preceded what one may readily grant to be the
scarcely greater mastery of the more complex forms. That
is to say, it is necessary to take into account not only relative
technique, but also the probable relations of the instruments
involved.1
A graver objection to the suggested order may perhaps be
seen in the humor of the Hous of Fame. Does not that, one
asks one's self, point to a period not far from Pandare and
the Wife of Bath? It would be hazardous indeed to say
that it does not. But absolutely engaging as it is, the humor
of the Hous of Fame, it is perhaps worth noting, grows in
large measure out of a situation ; that of the Troilus, out of a
fundamental and pervading attitude towards life. The quint-
essence of the humor of the Hous of Fame is in the second
book, in the irresistible contrast between the bland loqua-
ciousness of the eagle, during the flight through the air, and
the chastened monosyllables of the poet. Nothing could be
more consummately done than Chaucer's replies, as if a
breath too much might work disaster, to the preternaturally
cheerful flow of conversation which the edifying bird keeps
up: "And I answerde, and seyde, 'Yis'" . . . "'"Wei/
quod I" ... "I seyde, 'Nay'" . . . "'What/ quod I."
Humor of situation could scarcely go farther. But the humor
of the Troilus, of which Pandare is usually the medium, does
not submit itself to any such analysis. It plays upon every-
thing ; it is beyond comparison more ironical, more elusive ;
it is constantly passing into something else before one knows
1Some, at least, of the theories which have gained acceptance seem
strangely to ignore the obvious fact, emphasized in this paragraph, that
hard and fast lines can never be drawn where genuine development is con-
cerned. New powers constantly come to maturity while old ones are still
being exercised ; the whole notion of mutiud exdusiveness belongs to artificial
systems, not to life.
860 JOHN L. LOWES.
it ; it is as chameleon-like as Pandare himself. Once more,
it is a question not so much of relative merits as of the
type of qualities involved, and certainly the distinctly more
obvious character of the methods by which the effects of the
Hous of Fame are obtained does not, at least, militate against
the view that their exercise antedated the infinitely more
complex and elusive procedure of the Troilus. There seems,
then, to be no valid reason against, and certain definite
reasons for, the view that the Hous of Fame preceded the
Troilus?
VII.
The general order we have reached, then, for the poems so
far discussed is summarily as follows : the Hous of Fame; the
greater number, perhaps all, of the individual Legends ; the
Palamon and Arcite; the Troilus; and the Prologue to the
Legend. It remains to consider briefly the possibility of
assigning to these poems absolute as well as relative dates,
and to determine, if may be, the place of Anelida and Arcite,
the Parlement of Foules, and the Boethius in the scheme.
Beyond that the scope of the present investigation does not
reach.
The Prologue to the Legend probably belongs, as we have
seen, about the middle of 1386. 2 The composition of the
.Troilus, then, seems to belong to the years (for manifestly it
*Mr. Heath's view (Globe Chaucer, p. xliii) that Bk. Ill of the .Hows of
Fame followed the first two books at an interval of some years rests upon
what seems to me to be, so far as it is given, quite insufficient evidence.
The third book is more satirical than the other two simply because the
place for satire has been reached. It is the description of Fame's doings
which gives the occasion, and the House of Fame is arrived at only in
third book. All that Mr. Heath ascribes to the passage of time may be
entirely accounted for by shift of emphasis in the subject-matter.
2 Once more it must be noted that so far as the evidence here submitted
goes, it is possible that the date may be even somewhat later.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 861
may have extended over two or three) immediately preceding
that — perhaps to 1383—85. The Palamon we have seen
reason to date about 1382.1 It is hard to think of the Hous
of Fame as falling much earlier than the very late seventies.
There seems no reason to question the view that the Boethius
immediately preceded, perhaps overlapped the Troilus, or that
the Parlement of Foules belongs early in 1382.2 The Anelida
must have antedated the Palamon; for unless one except, as
is probable, the Ariadne, it bears every mark of having been
Chaucer's first use of the Teseide material.3 One may sug-
gest, then, altogether tentatively, some such course of events
as follows : —
1 The poem, as has been pointed out, seems to have been begun not long
before the end of 1381, Old Style. See p. 841, and Mod. Lang. Notes,
Dec., 1904, pp. 240-43.
2 The stanzas describing the temple of .Venus may have been inserted in
the Parlement because the temple had been but slightly sketched in the
Palamon, or the temple may have been but slightly sketched in the Palamon
because the stanzas had been already inserted in the Parlement. On that
score honors are easy. In either case the two seem to belong very close
together, and since the Parlement probably followed at short interval the
betrothal of Richard and Anne, it is not unreasonable to suppose that it
preceded the Palamon.
8 Dr. Mather's view that "after writing Troilus Chaucer began Anelida
as a pendant, or rather offset, to the greater poem" (op. cit., p. 312, cf.
p. 311) seems scarcely tenable. The characters of the poem are the merest
lay-figures ; its story is awkwardly handled, and is, moreover, perhaps the
one instance in Chaucer of a narrative altogether without vividness, as a
reading of the falcon's parallel story in the Squire's Tale makes by contrast
clear enough ; its stanza lacks wholly the "bright speed" so characteristic
of the stanza of the Troilus. That after Pandare's inimitable instructions
for the writing of a letter Chaucer should insert the long and utterly con-
ventional compleynt in the Anelida, would be an anticlimax indeed. One
may argue, it is true, that the compleynt is an earlier poem inserted here,
since its mention of Arcite is confined to parallel stanzas (the fifth) of
strophe and antistrophe, and to the last couplet of the conclusion, all
of which might readily have been added by way of adaptation. But it is
hard to think of Chaucer as returning, after the Troilus, even for the sake
of a stop-gap, to such superlatively conventional work. In a word, except
in the few stanzas which tell how Arcite' s " newe lady " held him " up by
862 JOHN L. LOWES.
About 1379, perhaps as the first response to the stimulus
(surely not to be limited for its sources to the Italian books
he read) of the second Italian journey, we may suppose the
Hous of Fame, the last important use of Chaucer's first narra-
tive metre, to have been written — a supposition which the pres-
ence of passages from Dante (whom Chaucer would certainly
read as soon as he became acquainted with Italian) bears out.
About the same time, moreover, seem to have begun the
experiments with the decasyllabic couplet in a number of
the Legends, whose subject-matter (clearly in mind when the
Hous of Fame was on the stocks) naturally enough grew
wearisome to him and was laid aside.1 But the abandonment
of the Legends for the time was not wholly due, we may sur-
mise, to these negative causes. In one of the Legends them-
selves one finds a hint of the " power more strong in beauty "
fated to excel them. For in the bit of the Teseide imbedded
in the Ariadne we have an even more significant response on
Chaucer's part than in the echoes of Dante in the Hous of
Fame to the new world opened up by the books he had
brought back from Italy. There seems to have followed an
abortive attempt, in the Anelida, to use the Teseide in a
stanzaic poem ; an extract from it goes into the lovely occa-
sional poem of the Parlement of Foules ; and finally, after
the story has evidently been turned over and over again, the
new couplet, now past the experimental stage, is given its
first great test in the first full embodiment of the new mate-
rial. Meantime, — for that a man who left so many things
the bridle at the staves ende," there is not a trace of the qualities already
pointed out as characterizing the Troilus. We may safely assign the Anelida,
accordingly, to a date before the Palamon and the Troilus.
1 May the collections of Legends perhaps have been originally a sort of
companion-piece to the collection of Tragedies which later form the Monk's
Tale? If that be so, the later return to the Legends (with the possible
addition of one or two) when the Prologue was conceived, would have,
apparently, a close parallel in the return to the Tragedies (with the proba-
ble addition of three or four) in the Canterbury Tales.
THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 863
unfinished should at any time have had but a single iron in
the fire seems scarcely probable — the translation of the Boe-
thius may have been under way, and on its completion, if
not before, the magnum opus of the Troilus was entered on.
I have already suggested how the return at this point to the
familiar stanza may readily be motivated, and with the Troilus
we may suppose Chaucer's spare hours to have been occupied
for many months. The reception accorded to the Troilus ;
the idea of contrasting Alcestis with Creseyde and of giving
at the same time an apt turn to the old plan of the Legends ;
the fresh impulse furnished, we may surmise, by Deschamps's
message and the gift of his poems ; the happy suggestion of
the merging of Chaucer's own glorification of Alcestis in the
French marguerite cultus — all these motives seem to have
entered into the genesis of the Prologue, for which the new
metre, now thoroughly mastered, was used. And with that
we are on the threshold of the Canterbury Tales.
The period beyond the Prologue to the Legend the present
investigation touches at but a single point — the revision of
the Prologue in 1394. But that is not altogether without
suggestion, in that it seems to help us slightly towards the
approximate date at which the Canterbury Tales were prob-
ably linked together. For there seem to be some indications
that in 1394 Chaucer was still at work on his great concep-
tion. It is hard to believe, at all events, that the long
reference to the Legend in the Man of Law's head-link was
not due to the recent recalling of the poem to his mind by
the revision of the Prologue. If that be so, the story of
Constance had not as yet, in 1394, been assigned to the Man
of Law. Moreover, the perfect mastery of his powers shown
in the revision of the Prologue, as well as in the Envoy to
Scogan of the previous year, makes it perfectly possible to
believe that, despite the expression in the Envoy itself of
what may have been but a passing mood, Legouis is close to
864 JOHN L. LOWES.
the truth in his reference to Chaucer l as one " dont le g6nie
poStique suivit un progr£s constant jusqu'au jour ou la plume
lui tomba des mains." 2
The hypothesis here suggested rests upon inferences from
facts, and by their accordance with facts its conclusions must
be tested. But whatever value these conclusions have, if
they prove sound, seems to lie in such fresh light as they
may perhaps throw upon what is vastly more important
than mere dates, — the course of Chaucer's artistic devel-
opment.
JOHN LIVINGSTON LOWES.
1 Op. cit., p. 4.
2 It may be urged, however, that the chronology proposed still leaves the
decade between the Book of the Duchesse and the return from the second
Italian journey too bare of poetic production. To that objection there are
two things to be said. The first is that during this same decade Chaucer
was many times abroad — twice in Italy, once in Flanders, several times,
apparently, in France ( Life Records, pp. xxi-xxix, and documents in Pt.
IV) — on the king's business, which occupied a total of many months and
which implied activity of many sorts at home. During the latter part of
this period, moreover, — the years immediately following 1374 — Chaucer
was occupied in mastering the details and performing the duties of an
arduous official position. It is accordingly entirely reasonable to suppose
that his poetic activity was more or less limited up to the return from the
second Italian journey. The second thing to be noted is that even so there
is sufficient poetry not improbably assignable to this earlier decade to
account for such time as may have been available. I need only refer
to Mr. Pollard's cautious and illuminating summary of the matter in the
Globe Chaucer (pp. xxv-xxvii), and to the suggestion there made (not, of
course, in all its details, for the first time) that the Second Nun's Tale, the
body of the Monies Tale, the Man of Lauds Tale, the Clerk's Tale, perhaps
the Doctor's Tale and the Maunciple's Tale, may be assigned to this earlier
period. There also must probably be placed the translation of the Romance
of the Rose, and a number of the minor poems still extant, as well as Balades,
Roundels, Virelays doubtless lost ; there belongs presumably Origenes upon
the Maudeleyne. With the latter one seems at liberty to associate, if one
will, the translations later used in Chaucer's Tale of Melibeus and in the
Parson's Tale. In a word, the decade before the second Italian journey
may not have been so barren of poetic achievement as one is inclined to
think. Certainly there is at least enough that may be reasonably assigned
to it to preclude the necessity of urging its leanness as a reason for robbing,
to piece out a chronology, the fat years that follow.
APPENDIX.
PROCEEDINGS OF THE TWENTY-SECOND ANNUAL
MEETING OF THE MODERN LANGUAGE
ASSOCIATION OF AMERICA,
HELD AT
BROWN UNIVERSITY, PROVIDENCE, R. I.,
AND AT
NORTHWESTERN UNIVERSITY, CHICAGO, ILL.,
DECEMBER 28, 29, 30, 1904.
THE MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION
OF AMERICA.
THE ASSOCIATION MEETING.
The twenty-second annual meeting of the MODERN LAN-
GUAGE ASSOCIATION OF AMERICA was held at Brown
University, Providence, R. I., December 28, 29, 30, in
accordance with the following invitation :
BROWN UNIVERSITY, Providence, December 18, 1903.
I beg leave, on behalf of Brown University, to invite the Modern
Language Association to meet with the University in Providence at its
next annual meeting. I have recently held a conference of the Depart-
ments of the English, Romance, and Germanic Languages here, and they
unite with me in extending this invitation. Providence is, as you know, a
city easily accessible from several directions ; a city of great historic
interest ; and one where there are many students of language. We should
welcome the coming of the Association, and do all in our power to make
the occasion pleasant as well as profitable.
W. H. P. FAUNCE, President.
All the sessions of the meeting were held in the hall of
the Brown Union in the Rockefeller Building. Professor
George Lyman Kittredge, President of the Association, pre-
sided at all the sessions of the first two days.
FIRST SESSION, WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 28.
The Association met at 3.20 p. m. The session was opened
by an address of welcome from President W. H. P. Faunce.
The Secretary of the Association, Professor C. H. Grand-
gent, submitted as his report the published Proceedings of the
last annual meeting and the complete volume of the Publica-
iii
IV
MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
tions of the Association for 1904. He announced also the
resignation of the Treasurer, Professor H. C. G. von Jage-
mann, and the election, by the Executive Council, of Mr.
William Guild Howard, of Harvard University, to the
office thus made vacant.
The report was accepted.
The Treasurer of the Association, Mr. William Guild
Howard, presented the following report :
KECEIPTS.
Balance on hand, December 24, 1903,
From Members, Life,
For 1900,
1901,
1902,
1903,
1904,
1905,
From Libraries, for 1893,
" 1894,
" 1895,
1896,
1898,
1902,
1903, . .
1904,
1905, . ., .
$
$2,813 67
For Publications, 1893,
" " 1894,
" " 1895,
" " 1896,
" " 1897,
" " 1898,
" " 1899,
" " 1900,
" " 1901,
" " 1902,
" " 1903,
" " 1904,
160
3
6
21
135
1,667
27
3
3
3
3
1
2
14
99
29
00
00
00
00
00
25
00
— \
00
00
00
00
00
70
70
90
70
-$ 160 00
3
3
2
2
4
5
9
6
5
5
6
32
60
70
70
70
60
70
10
40
40
60
60
40
88 50
PROCEEDINGS FOB 1904.
For Reprints, 1904,
" Advertising, 1903, .
Guarantee to R. R. refunded,
Interest, Eutaw Savings Bank,
" Cambridge Trust Co.,
EXPENDITURES.
To Treasurer for Stationery, . . , .«,, \ .••
" " " Postage, . . . .
" " " Clerical work, . . .
To Secretary, for Salary, ....
" " " Stationery, . , A . « '
" " " Postage, . .. .
" " " Expressage, . _ .
" " " Typewriting, " , '.. ' ..
" " " Proof-reading, . . „
To Secretary, Central Division,
for Stationery,
" Guarantee to R. R., .
For Bibliography, American Contributions,
To Committee on " "
To Committee on Phonetic Alphabet,
For Printing Publications and Reprints,
Vol. XIX, No. 1
" XIX, " 2, .
" XIX, "3
" XIX, " 4, .
For Printing Programme, 22d Annual Meeting,
Exchange,
Balance on hand •> Eutaw Savings Bank, .
Dec. 27, 1904. ) Cambridge Trust Co.,
75 41
$5,326 83
105 32
324 91
14 20
7 00
-$ 21 20
$ 185 62
92 50
$ 145 15
486 19
433 67
317 57
662 11
-$ 278 12
-$1,899 54
58 12
5 20
$2,837 56
$1,311 65
1,176 62
-$2,488 27
$5,325 83
Vi MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
The President of the Association, Professor George Lyman
Kittredge, appointed the following committees :
(1) To audit the Treasurer's report : Professors J. B. E.
Jonas, Freeman M. Josselyn, Jr., and Max F.
Blau.
(2) To nominate officers : Professors A. K. Potter, J. A.
Walz, and J. W. Bright.
The reading of papers was then begun.
1. "The General Condition of Libraries in Spanish
America." By Dr. Rudolph Schwill, of Yale University.
[Printed in Modern Language Notes, xx, 5.]
[This paper gave the impressions gained through a recent examination
of a number of public as well as convent libraries in several of the Spanish-
American Republics. Some of the methods of their administration were
described. The nature of the contents of the libraries was discussed from
the standpoint of the student of Spanish literature, an attempt being made
to explain their general disorder and their poverty in works of value. —
Fifteen minutes.'}
2. "The Farce of Pathelin (An Introductory Essay)."
By Dr. Richard Thayer Holbrook, of Columbia University.
[Cf. Modern Language Notes, xx, 1 and Modern Philology,
m, 1.]
[The rise of mediaeval comedy. Eecords and pieces mostly lost. Pathelin
the gem of mediaeval comic drama. Purely French in style and matter.
Origin unknown. Four MSS. extant, of which one is at Harvard ; MSS.
later than printed texts. Le Boy's edition (about 1485) probably the first.
Pathelin first modern comedy to be printed. An exceptional type of farce
because of length, beauty of style, skill of psychological analysis, and
dramatic quality. Immense popularity. Known in England as early as
Rabelais. Brueys and The Village Lawyer. Pathelin often performed in
English. No translation yet printed. — Fifteen minutes.]
3. "Wyntoun and the Morte Arthure." By Professor
Prentiss C. Hoyt, of Clark College.
[An attempt to show the falsity of the generally accepted theory that
the Qrete Oest of Arthure mentioned by Wyntoun in his Chronicle is identi-
PROCEEDINGS FOR 1904. vii
cal with the alliterative Morte Arthure, The evidence is drawn from the
material in the poems themselves, which has been grossly misinterpreted
heretofore. The value of the work, if successful, lies in the death-blow it
gives to the many attempts to prove the existence of a great Northern poet,
rivalling Chaucer in the South. — Thirty minutes.]
This paper was discussed by Professor Henry Schofield.
4. " The Source of Crestien's Yvain in the Light of the
Names Laudine and Lunete." By Professor William Albert
Nitze, of Amherst College. [Cf. Modern Philology, in, 2.]
[The present status of Yvain discussion favors a theory of Celtic origin.
A number of prominent scholars, however, agree that the immediate source
was a folk-tale. For several reasons it is unlikely that this was localized
in Armorica. Crestien's literary method is now fairly clear : he borrowed
extensively from Anglo-Norman literature and from folk traditions. In
Yvain he treats for a second time the Fairy Mistress theme. The new ele-
ment in the story is the Episode of the Fountain, which bears a distinctly
popular imprint. It may be that this episode is essentially a mediaeval
version of the Arician Diana myth, the cult of Diana prevailing in northern
Europe during the Middle Ages. As Diana was popularly known as La
Diane, Laudine can be explained as a corrupted Lddiane ; whereas Lunete
is Luna (as Crestien himself says), and La Dameisele Sauvage is probably
Silvanus. Crestien's acquaintance with "Argone" (v. 3228) suggests that
the tale was current in the Ardennes mountains, where Diana was popular.
Baist has shown that Crestien's knowledge of Wace fully accounts for his
location of the Fountain in the forest of Broceliande. Other elements of
the Yvain show signs of a fusion of themes : e. g. , the Lion story, the
threatened burning of Lunete. Such combinations are attested by other
romances of the time. — A fifteen-minute abstract.]
5. " Unpublished Manuscripts of Italian Bestiaries." By
Dr. Kenneth McKenzie, of Yale University. [See Publica-
ions, xx, 2.]
[Three unpublished manuscripts, in libraries at Florence, Naples, and
Paris, are now for the first time described and compared with those studied
by Goldstaub and Wendriner, Ein Tosco-Venezianischer Sestiarius, Halle,
1892. Two of the new manuscripts, like three of those known to Gold-
staub and Wendriner, contain fables as a part of the bestiary. — Fifteen
minutes. ]
At 8 p. m. the Association met in Sayles Hall to hear an
yiii MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
address by Professor George Lyman Kittredge, President
of the Association, entitled " Vengeance is Mine ! "
After the address the members and guests of the Asso-
ciation were received in the John Carter Brown Library by
the Committee of Management of the Library.
SECOND SESSION, THURSDAY, DECEMBER 29.
The session began at 9.45 a. m.
The Committee on International Correspondence presented
the following report, which, in the absence of the Chairman
of the Committee, was read by the Secretary of the Asso-
ciation :
The Deput7 Chairman in charge of the German Correspondence reports
that the difficulty previously reported has been still continued, that the
German Bureau requires a fee of our students, as well as of the students in
Germany. This fee has been sent repeatedly by our bureau, but in no
instance has it been even acknowledged ; and although some of the students
whose names have been sent over by our bureau secured correspondents, a
considerable number have not. This naturally causes discouragement and
dissatisfaction.
With the French Bureau it has been different, no fees being charged for
mating our students in France. The charge of 10 cents each has therefore
covered necessary expenses, and there is a balance on hand, in the French
Bureau, of $7.80. In the German bureau there is no balance over, but
there is some stationery still on hand.
The interest in this subject in France seems, however, to be on the
decline, and the professors who have acted as my deputies in the two
languages now feel that their other duties are too heavy to permit them to
continue the service, and they ask to be released. Your chairman also
feels that after serving in this work for several years he would welcome
the relief that his deputies desire. We therefore recommend (unless some
of the representatives of other colleges, schools, or universities ask to take
up the work and carry it on in some different way, perhaps by interesting
some leading journals, at home or abroad, to enter upon the task and
receive their pay in the advertising they may obtain from it) that the
whole subject be dismissed from the records of the Modern Language
Association, leaving any future work on this line to be undertaken on the
initiative, and at the expense, of the individuals interested.
EDWARD H. MAGILL, Chairman.
PROCEEDINGS FOB 1904. ix
On motion of the Secretary, the Committee, in accordance
with its request, was released from further duty, receiving
the thanks of the Association for its efficient service.
On motion of the Secretary, it was voted to send greetings
to the Central Division and to the Philological Association
of the Pacific Coast.
The reading of papers was resumed.
6. " The ^Eschylean Element in Mrs. Browning." By
Professor Curtis Clark Bushnell, of Syracuse University.
[The influence of the individual plays of .(Eechylus upon the prose
articles, correspondence, and poetry of Mrs. Browning ; especially that of
the twice-translated Prometheus Bound. History and criticism of the version
of 1833 ; of that of 1845, including the question of accuracy and of success
in reproducing the more subtle beauties of the original. Comparison of
the versions ; their relation. — Twenty minutes.]
7. "The Question of the Vernacular." By Professor
James "Wilson Bright, of the Johns Hopkins University.
[From one point of view, the different aspects of the question of the
vernacular may be regarded as constituting two groups, (1) the popular
and (2) the academic. From another point of view, the question involves
the consideration of (1) the practical use, (2) the artistic use, and (3) the
scientific study of the language. A clear definition of the departments of
the subject must promote clearness of method in the teaching of English
in the homes and in the schools, it must be of advantage to the scientific
linguist and to the student of literature, and it must help to rationalize the
arts of speaking and writing and thus furnish the true introduction to
the art of literature. — Thirty minutes.']
This paper was discussed by Professor F. N. Scott.
8. " The Round Table." By Professor Lewis F. Mott,
of the College of the City of New York. [See Publications,
xx, 2.]
[Three meanings of the term Eound Table and the characteristics of
each. Eound Table as tournament, as Eisteddfod. Celtic round edifices.
X MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
Arthurian localities. Village fites at mounds and circles. Features of
agricultural festivals. Keligious significance of the Bound Table. Wace's
statement concerning the equality of the knights and Layamon's story of
the fight at the Christmas feast. The Bound Table an setiological myth.—
Twenty minutes. ]
9. " The Cleamadte and the Squire's Tale." By Mr. H.
S. V. Jones, of Harvard University. [See Publications,
xx, 2.]
[An attempt to strengthen the likelihood that Chaucer knew the Cleo-
madZs. The writer of this poem and the author of the Meliacin, which
closely resembles it, were well known in England. There are, too, allusions
to the romance in literature with which Chaucer was probably acquainted.
A passage in Froissart's L'Espinette Amoureuse seems to have special value. —
Twenty minutes. ]
THIRD SESSION, THURSDAY, DECEMBER 29.
The session began at 2.35 p. m.
On motion of Professor A. Cohn, it was
Resolved, That the members of the Modern Language Association, meet-
ing at Brown University, have heard with deep regret of the trials which
have compelled Professor H. C. G. von Jagemann to resign the office of
Treasurer, and send him the expression of their heartfelt wish for his
speedy and complete restoration to health and activity.
The reading of papers was resumed.
10. "Goethe's Love Affairs in His Life and His Poems."
By Professor Charles Harris, of the Western Reserve Uni-
versity.
[As sources of many minor poems and strongly influencing certain longer
works, Goethe's love affairs are worthy of serious study. Throughout his
life they were variations of a type, their end being due to Goethe's unstable
affections and his aversion to marriage. They are, therefore, chiefly signifi-
cant, not as events which left lasting traces in his after life, but as temporary
moods of exaltation which greatly affected his poetic productivity. — Twenty
minutes. ]
This paper was discussed by Professor J. W. Bright.
PROCEEDINGS FOR 1904. xi
11. "The Red and White Rose: a N"ew Source of
Richard the Third." By Dr. Harold de Wolf Fuller,
of Harvard University.
[Z)e Roode en Witie Boos is the title of a Dutch play which first appeared
in 1651, but which was apparently adapted from a pre-Shakesperian English
play — perhaps known as The Red and White Rose. Manifest traces of this
play are found in Ricliard the Third. — Twenty minutes.]
12. " The Motif of Young Waters." By Professor William
Wistar Comfort, of Haverford College. [Printed in Modern
Language Notes, xx, 4.]
[The resemblance between the situation in the ballad of Young Waters
and that in the beginning of the Voyage de Charlemagne may indicate a
fundamental identity of motif. — Ten minutes.']
13. " Longfellow's ' Lapland Song.' " By Professor Henry
Schofield, of Harvard University.
[The refrain of Longfellow's poem, My Lost Youth, is found to be an
exact translation. — Five minutes.]
14. " The Pronunciation of ch." By Professor Freeman
M. Josselyn, Jr., of Boston University.
[An experimental study of the sounds discussed in §§ 33, 34 of the
Report of a Joint Committee on a Phonetic English Alphabet : (a) these sounds
as already determined in Italian, Spanish, and French ; (6) the American
variety, ( 1 ) its articulation, (2) its nature as determined by the air columns ;
(c) conclusions. — Fifteen minutes.]
15. "A Universal Phonetic Alphabet." By Professor
James Geddes, Jr., of Boston University. [Printed in
Die neueren Sprachen, xin, p. 349.]
[A demonstration of the advantages to be secured by adhering to one
system of phonetic notation in indicating pronunciation in standard works
of reference and particularly in dialect investigation. A system that is
uniform though far from adequate, if it comes into general use, renders
incomparably better service than the countless individual systems employed
only by their inventors. — Fifteen minutes.]
xii MODEBN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
The Keport of the Joint Committee on the subject of a
Phonetic English Alphabet was presented by Professor
Calvin Thomas, and called forth discussion from Professors
C. H. Grandgent, Freeman M. Josselyn, Jr., J. W. Bright,
F. N. Scott, and W. G. Howard.
On motion of Professor Calvin Thomas, it was
Resolved, That the President of the Association be requested to appoint
a committee of five, of which Professor E. S. Sheldon, of Harvard Uni-
versity, shall be chairman, to examine the Eeport of the Joint Committee
on the subject of a Phonetic English Alphabet, and to report what, if any,
amendments are desirable before the Alphabet proposed by the Joint Com-
mittee shall be submitted to the Association for final action.
It was further voted, on motion of Professor Calvin
Thomas, that the Treasurer of the Association be authorized
to pay the expenses of this new committee to the extent of
$25.00.
[The President of the Association, Professor George
Lyman Kittredge, appointed as members of the Committee
of Five : Professors E. S. Sheldon, C. H. Grandgent, J. W.
Bright, G. Hempl, and R. Weeks.]
In the evening the gentlemen of the Association were
entertained by the Local Committee at the University Club.
FOURTH SESSION, FRIDAY, DECEMBER 30.
The session began at 10.15 a. m., Professor F. N. Scott
presiding.
The Auditing Committee reported that the Treasurer's
report was found correct. On motion of Professor Calvin
Thomas, the Treasurer's report was then accepted.
The Nominating Committee reported the following nomi-
nations :
PROCEEDINGS FOR 1904. xiii
President : Francis B. Gummere, Haverford College.
Vice-Presidents.
Lewis F. Mott, College of the City of New York.
Walter C. Bronson, Brown University.
Herbert E. Greene, Johns Hopkins University.
On motion of Professor W. E. Mead, the report was
accepted and the recommendations were adopted. The
candidates nominated were thus elected officers of the Asso-
ciation for 1905.
The place of meeting for 1905 was briefly discussed,
invitations having been received from Columbia University
and Haverford College. [The Executive Council subse-
quently chose Haverford College.]
The following gentlemen were proposed by the Executive
Council for honorary membership, and, on motion of Pro-
fessor Calvin Thomas, were unanimously elected :
Professor Antoine Thomas, of the Sorbonne, Paris.
Professor Otto Jespersen, of the University of Copenhagen.
Professor Jacob Minor, of the University of Vienna.
Professor August Sauer, of the University of Prague.
On motion of Professor Herbert E. Greene, it was
Voted, That every year, until otherwise directed, there be appropriated
from the treasury of the Association the sum of one hundred dollars as
compensation for the Treasurer.
The reading of papers was resumed.
16. "A Museum-Gallery for the Study of the Drama."
By Professor Brander Matthews, of Columbia University.
[Printed in The Bookman, Oct., 1905.]
XIV MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
[As all the great dramatic poets wrote their plays to be performed by
actors, in a theatre, and before an audience, those who seek to understand
these plays should give attention to the shape and size of the several theatres
in which they were originally produced, and also to the other circumstances
of this performance. To facilitate this, there is need of a museum-gallery
to contain models of theatres and of scenery, as well as plans and engrav-
ings.— Thirty minutes."]
This paper was discussed by Professors F. N. Scott and
A. Cohn.
17. "The Horse in the Popular Epic." By Dr. Murray
A. Potter, of Harvard University.
[It is well known how important a part the horse plays in mythology
and folk-lore. The purpose of the paper is to show that his r6le in the
popular epic is equally prominent. Not only is he the faithful servant and
friend of his master, but in a number of instances he is one of the chief
actors, and, in fact, an epic hero himself. — Twenty minutes.']
18. "The Scansion of Prose Rhythm." By Professor
F. N. Scott, of the University of Michigan. [See Publica-
tions, xx, 4.]
[Attempts to scan prose rhythm in terms of metrical feet do violence to
the genius of prose, for the reason that the rhythmical patterns of prose
and verse are essentially disparate. A verse-pattern (in Germanic verse)
is formed mainly by the recurrence of small units of stress ; a prose-pattern,
by the recurrence of large units of movement. The terms nutation and
motation may be used to distinguish the two types of rhythm. — Twenty
minutes. ]
This paper was discussed at some length by Professors
Lewis F. Mott, Herbert E. Greene, W. E. Mead, Calvin
Thomas, C. H. Grandgent, and C. Alphonso Smith.
19. "The Detection of Personality in Literature." By
Dr. Sylvanus Griswold Morley, of Harvard University.
[See Publications, xx, 4].
[Students of literature are sometimes called on to decide whether a
certain work, or a passage in a work, is the product of one man's brain or
PROCEEDINGS FOR 1904. XV
of another's — to determine the personality behind the words. The problem
is ultimately psychological. It is extremely improbable that two men
could independently state an identical idea in the same terms. On the
other hand, it is practically impossible that a critic can sufficiently identify
himself with a writer to be a competent judge in such matters. Two divi-
sions of the question : (1) Plagiarism and Interinfluence ; (2) Authorship
of a disputed work. Conclusions : Questions dependent on considerations
of thought and style can never be solved definitely. The more mechanical
the evidence, the better ; wording is stronger evidence than thought, external
testimony is stronger than either, because the critic's personal equation has
then less room to act. — Twenty minutes.']
FIFTH SESSION, FRIDAY, DECEMBER 30.
The session began at 2.50 p. m., Professor C. Alphonso
Smith presiding.
On motion of Dr. Kenneth McKenzie, it was
Resolved, That the Modern Language Association tender its cordial
thanks to the President and Corporation of Brown University, to the Uni-
versity Club, and to the Local Committee, for the courtesies extended to
the Association at its twenty-second annual meeting.
The reading of papers was resumed.
20. "The Hermit and the Saint." By Mr. Gordon
Hall Gerould, of Bryn Mawr College. [See Publications,
xx, 3.]
[The story of how a hermit found that he was less saintly than another
person of apparently worldly life is told in Sanskrit and Arabic. The
latter form closely resembles one of five variants of the type, related of as
many saints of the desert. Thence arose a. fabliau in Old French, which
in turn was transferred to the life of the English St. Oswald. Several
European variants of the theme furnish confirmation of the series. — Fifteen
minutes. ]
21. "Some Features of Style in Narrative French Poetry
(1150-70)." By Professor Frederick Morris Warren, of
Yale University. [See Modern Philology, m, 2.]
[The speaker discussed forms of repetition in vogue in the third quarter
of the twelfth century — repetitions of words and phrases in successive lines,
MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
and also repetitions of the second lines of couplets as the first lines of
following couplets by the transfer of an intermediate word to the rhyme.
Mention was also made of the broken couplet and the sentence which follows
it, of the so-called tirades lyriques or monorime passages, and the fashion
of alternating single lines in dialogue and dividing the same line between
the interlocutors. Typical poems are Thdbes, Eneae, and Erode. — Twenty
minutes.]
22. "The Prologue to The Legend of Good Women, as
related to the French Marguerite Poems and to the Filostrato."
By Mr. John Livingston Lowes, of Harvard University.
[See Publications, xix, 4.]
[A paper pointing out what are believed to be hitherto unnoticed sources
for the Prologue in (a) Machault and Froissart — particularly in the Parody s
d? Amours; (b) Deschamps — particularly in the Lay de Franchise, of May-
day, 1385 ; (c) Boccaccio — through the insertion of certain passages of the
Filostrato rejected from the Troilus. From these new data, an argument
for the priority of the B-version, and a reconsideration of the supposed
identification of Alcestis with Queen Anne. — Twenty minutes.]
23. " The Comparative Study of Words in Foreign Lan-
guages." By Professor Willis Arden Chamberlin, of Denison
University. [Printed in The School Review, April, 1905.]
[The habit of noting similarities in words and constructions is essential
in learning a foreign language. It can be cultivated by comparing words
in respect to their form and meaning ; the relationships established help
the mind to classify and hold the new material. — Fifteen minutes.'}
The Association adjourned at 4.10 p. m.
/ PAPERS READ BY TITLE.
The following papers, presented to the Association, were
read by title only :
1. "Parke Godwin's Translations from the German." By Professor
John Preston Hoskins, of Princeton University. [See Publications, xx, 2.]
[A contribution to the investigations on German influence in American
life. The paper begins with Godwin's connection with the Brook Farmers,
PROCEEDINGS FOB 1904. xvii
— Ripley, Dana, Curtis, and others, — and then takes up the Zschokke tales,
which were in reality rather edited than translated by him. It then passes
to his translation of Goethe's Dichtung und Wahrhtit. In each case the real
translator is definitely ascertained. There follows a brief criticism of the
translations as such. ]
2. "A Study of Tennyson's Dramas." By Professor Clark S. Northup,
of Cornell University.
[A comparative study of the dramas of Lord Tennyson in connection with
contemporary dramas on similar subjects, — for example, Sir Aubrey de
Vere's Mary Tudor, Ernst von Wildenbruch's Harold, Aubrey Thomas de
Vere's St. Thomas of Canterbury, — for the purpose of discussing, more fully
if possible, than they have hitherto been discussed, Tennyson's fitness for
dramatic writing, his choice of dramatic situations, the development of
character in his dramas, and his success measured by appropriate standards.]
3. "The Literary Genre, an Idolon Libri." By Professor Albert
Schinz, of Bryn Mawr College. [To appear in the Mercure de France.]
[The idea of an intimate relation between the content and the literary
form of a work of art was suggested by external circumstances that had
nothing to do with literature as such. These circumstances have long since
disappeared, and the traditional divisions, — drama, novel, lyric, etc., —
ought therefore to be given up. Practically, any subject may be clothed
in any of these forms. Most of our books and courses of lectures are still
arranged according to the traditional principle, which on the one hand pre-
vents us from treating together works which undoubtedly belong to the
same class, and on the other hand forces us to bring together under the
same heading works of an entirely different character. Confusion instead
of order is the result. We ought to try another grouping of literary subjects. ]
4. " The Syntax of Antoine de la Sale, Compared with that of the Works
Commonly Attributed to Him." By Professor William Pierce Shepard, of
Hamilton College. [See Publications, xx, 3.]
[The syntax of La Sale's undoubted work, Le Petit Jehan de Saintre
(edition Helle'ny), is compared point by point with that of Les Quinze Joyes
de Mariage (edition Jannet) and Les Cent Nouvelles Nouvdles (as presented
in Schmidt's Dissertation, Syntaktische Studien uber die Cent Nouvelles Nou-
vdles, Frauenfeld, 1888). The results of this comparison show : first, that
syntactically the Petit Jehan represents an earlier stage of the language than
either of the other works ; second, that the syntactical differences between
the three are so marked that it is improbable that they are by one author.]
Xviii MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
THE CENTRAL DIVISION MEETING.
The tenth annual meeting of the Central Division was
held at Northwestern University, December 28, 29, 30,
1904. All the regular sessions were held in the North-
western Building in Chicago. Professor A. R. Hohlfeld,
Chairman of the Division, presided at all.
The Local Committee made, with other learned bodies
meeting in Chicago at the same time, an arrangement by
which reduced rates were secured from all railroads.
FIRST SESSION, WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 28.
The Division was called to order at 8.30 p. m. The address
of welcome on behalf of Northwestern University was deliv-
ered by Professor John Henry Wigmore, Dean of the School
of Law.
The Chairman of the Division, Professor A. R. Hohlfeld,
of the University of Wisconsin, addressed the Division on
the subject : " The Teaching of Modern Foreign Literature."
The acting Secretary of the Division, Professor E. E.
Brandon, of Miami University, made his report.
On motion, the subject of changing the name of the
Division was referred to a committee.
SECOND SESSION, THURSDAY, DECEMBER 29.
The Chairman called the Division to order at 9.30 a. m.,
and announced the following committees :
PROCEEDINGS FOR 1904. XIX
(1) To consider the proposed change of name : Professors
J. V. Denney, N. C. Brooks, and A. E. Jack.
(2) To nominate officers : Professors T. A. Jenkins, C. C.
Ferrell, A. H. Thorndike, A. G. Canfield, and H.
B. Almstedt.
(3) To recommend a place for the next annual meeting :
Professors J. S. Nollen, F. G. Hubbard, H. A.
Vance, F. C. L. van Steenderen, C. von Klenze.
The reading and discussion of papers was then begun.
1. " Sir Iwain and Folk-Tales of Helpful Animals." By
Professor Arthur C. L. Brown, University of Wisconsin.
[See Publications, xx, 4.]
[This paper compares the story of the helpful lion in Chretien's Ivain,
and in its Mediaeval English translation Iwain and Gawain, with helpful
animal episodes in Celtic tales. The object of the paper is to make it
appear probable that the thankful lion is not, as Professor Foerster and
others have supposed, an addition made by Chretien de Troyes, but was
suggested to him by something in his presumably Celtic original. — Fifteen
minutes. ]
This paper was discussed by Professors Rambeau, Black-
burn, and Hohlfeld.
2. " The Teaching of Modern Languages in the American
High School." By Dr. A. Rambeau, Director of Foreign
Language Instruction, Manual Training High School, Kan-
sas City, Missouri. [Printed in Die neueren SpracJicn,
xin, 4.]
[The American High School compared with the German ' ' Realschule "
and " Oberrealschule." The results of modern language instruction in the
German "Realschulen," and the " Reform Method. " The movement in
France, and views of M. Leygues as Minister of Public Instruction. The
work done by Professor Grandgent as Director of Modern Language In-
struction in the public schools of Boston. The elective system in High
Schools.
Spanish since the Spanish- American war. — French and German, in our
High Schools, the modern languages par excellence. The value of French
XX MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
and German instruction compared ; East and West. — The practical aim of
modern language instruction in the analogous schools of Germany, France,
England, and America. A few details of the modern language program in
our High Schools.
Two important questions closely connected with instruction in foreign
modern languages in High Schools : (1 ) the knowledge of the maternal
language, obtained in the Ward schools ; (2) the College entrance require-
ments.— Twenty minutes.]
This paper was discussed by Professor Hohlfeld.
3. " Chateaubriand's Relation to Italian Writers." By
Professor B. L. Bowen, Ohio State University.
[Chateaubriand as a traveler and his several visits to Italy ; his command
of Italian and interest in Italian writers ; their influence as reflected in his
works, notably in the Memoires d? oulre-tombe ; his appreciation of Dante,
Ariosto, Tasso, Alfieri, Pellico, and others ; conditions which affected his
attitude towards these writers. — Twenty minutes.']
This paper was discussed by Professors van Steenderen
and Rambeau.
4. " Relation of Addison to La Bruy6re." By Professor
Edward Chauncey Baldwin, University of Illinois. [See
Publications, xix, 4.]
[The reasons for believing that Addison was influenced by La BruyeTe
are five. First, Addison was almost certainly familiar with La BruySre's
Caractdres; for he knew the French language, had read exhaustively in
French literature of the seventeenth century, was associated with men who
knew La Bruyere's work, and certainly had read an English translation of
La BruySre's version of Theophrastus. Secondly, Addison' s manner of
writing Characters resembles, in the degree of individualization that he
gives them, that of La Bruyere, and does not resemble that of any English
writer of Characters who had preceded him. Thirdly, Addison' s sentence
structure often shows a marked variation from his more usual method, this
variation being in the direction of the epigrammatic balance characteristic
of La Bruyere. Fourthly, Addison' s style resembles in its occasional ma-
levolence the mordant quality of La Bruy^re's. Finally, certain citations
made from the work of the two authors seem to show more than an acciden-
tal likeness. The conclusion reached is that Addison wrote his Characters
under the influence of La BruySre. — A summary only was presented."]
PROCEEDINGS FOR 1904. xxi
This paper was discussed by Professors Liberma and van
Steenderen.
5. "Folk-Song in Missouri." By Professor Henry
Marvin Belden, University of Missouri. [Cf. Modern Phi-
lology, n, 4.]
[I. Of the British ballads given in Child's collection at least these are
known in Missouri : Barbara Allen, The Two Sisters, Lord Thomas and Fair
Annel, Fair Margaret and Sweet William, James Harris, Lady Isabel and the
Elf-Knight, The Jew's Daughter, Lord Lovel, a fragment of Sir Lionel.
There are also many sentimental and gallows-pieces, some of them native.
II. These ballads were not learned by the singers or reciters from print ;
yet some of them at least now circulate in print in Missouri.
III. Those in whose mouths the ballads are found make apparently no
distinction between a ' folk-ballad ' and later sentimental and literary pro-
ductions that have passed into their repertory ; all are alike popular. —
Twenty minutes. ]
This paper was discussed by Professors Blackburn, Lewis,
McClintock, and Hohlfeld.
6. " Gustav Frenssen's Attitude toward Education." By
Dr. Warren Washburn Florer, University of Michigan.
[This paper will endeavor to explain Frenssen's "Bruch mit der Wis-
senschaft," as seen in his writings, published sermons and statements.
Education according to Frenssen is primarily dependent upon an inde-
pendent "Weltanschauung," derived from personal observation of nature
and human life. He insists that the school shall be adapted to the practical
needs of the people, being opposed to all education which does not ' ' grow
out of the nature of things and the character of the people. ' ' He is a dis-
ciple of the principle contained in Lessing's Erziehung des Menschenge-
schlechts — "Erziehung gibt dem Menschen nichts, was er nicht aus sich
selbst haben konnte : sie gibt ihm das, was er aus sich selber haben konnte,
nur gesch winder und leichter," provided the "Erziehung" is based on the
newer idealistic conception of educational rights. — Twelve minutes.']
Dr. Florer was unable to be present, and, at his request,
this was read by title.
xxii MODREN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
THIRD SESSION, THURSDAY, DECEMBER 29.
The session was called to order at 3.00 p. m.
The Chairman announced the receipt of a message of
greeting from the Eastern meeting, which was read by the
acting Secretary. On motion, the Secretary was directed to
reply.
The Division then proceeded to discuss the Report of the
Joint Committee on the subject of a Phonetic English Al-
phabet. The discussion was led by Professor F. A. Black-
burn. He was followed by Professors Curme, Rambeau,
and Jenkins. On motion, the Chairman was directed to
appoint a committee of five to prepare a resolution embodying
the opinions of the Division in regard to the report of the
Joint Committee. The Chair appointed the following : Pro-
fessors Curme, Jenkins, Baldwin, Rambeau, and Thorndike.
The Division then adjourned, and reassembled in Depart-
mental Meetings.
Romance Languages.
Leader — Professor T. A. Jenkins, University of Chicago.
1. What French authors are especially well adapted for
use in second and third year reading, a. in the High School,
6. in the College? The discussion was opened by Dr. E.
J. Dubedout, Prof. Lucy M. Gay, and Prof. E. P. Baillot.
2. The outlook for Italian and Spanish. Discussion
opened by Prof. M. F. Liberma and Dr. A. de Salvio.
On motion, the Leader was directed to name a committee
to recommend a limited number of texts most appropriate for
second and third year reading.
PROCEEDINGS FOR 1904. xxiii
Germanic Languages.
Leader — Professor John S. Nollen, Indiana University.
1. The Teaching of Lyric Poetry. Professor Camillo
von Klenze, University of Chicago.
2. How may the Elementary German taught in Accred-
ited High Schools be made equivalent to the Elementary
Work done in Colleges ? Mr. O. P. Klopsch, Peoria High
School.
3. The Annotation of German Texts. Professor Max
Batt, North Dakota Agricultural College.
The session closed with an informal symposium on the
size of classes in elementary German, from which it appeared
that definite limits are set only in rare cases, some institutions
reporting sections numbering fifty and sixty students. It
was the consensus of opinion that to produce the best results,
first and second year classes should be limited to a member-
ship of thirty. The topics introduced were discussed freely
by the members of the section, and the value of such informal
discussion of practical problems seemed well attested.
English.
Leader — Professor J. V. Denney, Ohio State University.
1. The value of the " introductory " or " general survey"
course in English Literature.
It was the opinion of the section that such a study had its
value, but could be best pursued by reading a limited num-
ber of masterpieces and supplementing the reading by in-
formal lectures. The use in class of a text-book on the
history of the literature was discouraged.
Thursday evening at 8.30 the members were entertained
by Northwestern University at a " smoker " in the rooms of
the Chicago Literary Club.
XXIV MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
Franklin L. Head gave a smoke talk on the subject :
" The Variety and Vigor of American Dialects."
FOURTH SESSION, FRIDAY, DECEMBER 30.
The Division was called to order by the Chairman at 9.45
a. m. The reading and discussion of papers was resumed.
7. " Mira de Amescua's El Esdavo del Demonio." By
Dr. Milton A. Buchanan, University of Chicago. [Cf. Mira
de Amescua, El Esdavo del Demonio, Baltimore, 1905.]
[Frey Gil in history and in literature ; an unnoticed manuscript of the
Biblioteca National ; the sources and probable date of Mira's play ; its
influence upon Calderon, Moreto, etc. ; its relation to contemporary
comedias, dealing with pacts with the devil, and the psychology of sin. —
Twenty minutes. ]
8. "Doublets in English." By Professor Edward A.
Allen, University of Missouri.
[This paper consisted of excerpts from the introduction to a longer
work on the same subject and selected examples of the less obvious doublets
not in Skeat's list. — Twenty-five minutes.]
In the absence of Professor Allen, this paper was read by
Professor Belden. It was discussed by Dr. Wood.
9. " The use or omission of doss in subordinate clauses."
By Professor George O. Curme, Northwestern University.
[The origin and development of the doss clause was sketched. The past
and present usage with regard to the use or omission of the particle dass was
given and an attempt made to explain the principles which underlie the
choice of constructions here. — Fifteen minutes.']
This paper was discussed by Professors Burnett and
Hohlfeld.
10. "Vondel's Value as a Dramatist." By Professor
Frederic C. L. van Steenderen, University of Iowa. [See
Publications, xx, 3.]
PROCEEDINGS FOR 1904. XXV
[The paper began with a statement of the work done in Vondel's influ-
ence on Milton. Then the question was asked, why, if Vondel is chiefly
known as a dramatist, his influence is practically all lyrical. In answer to
this question, the influence of his time and surroundings was analyzed and
found to be unfavorable to true tragedy. Then a statement of the true
nature of tragedy was attempted and Vondel's conception of the tragic prin-
ciple, as exemplified by his plays, was compared with it. Vondel is found
to be but an indifferent tragic poet, a conclusion which leaves him in his
full worth as a great lyric writer. — Twenty-five minutes.']
11. "The Sources of the Barbier de Seville." By Dr.
Florence N. Jones, University of Illinois.
[While Beaumarchais undoubtedly borrowed from Moliere and Kegnard,
there are peculiarities of incident and plot in the Barbier de Seville, which
make it probable that, influenced by the Tuteur Dupt of his contemporary
Cailhava, Beaumarchais also took as his model for the Barbier de Seville
the Miles Gloriosus of Plautus. — Twenty minutes."]
12. " Diirfen and its Cognates." By Dr. Francis Asbury
Wood, University of Chicago. [Printed in Modern Lan-
guage Notes, xx, 4.]
[NHG, dilrfen and Skt. trpyati ' sattigt sich, wird befriedigt ' represent
the two extremes of divergent lines of development. The original base is
terep-, the primary meaning 'rub, press.' This primary meaning is seen
in Gk. Tpairtu 'tread grapes,' O.Pruss. trapt 'treten,' Lith. trepti 'stamp-
fen,' and figuratively in Pol. trapic ' qualen, ' OE. firafian 'urge, rebuke.'
From this two main lines of development : (1 ) ' wear away, aufreiben, sich
aufreiben,' in Lith. trapus ' sprode, brocklig,' tirpti ' schmelzen,' Lett.
trepans 'morsch,' trepet ' verwittern, ' MHG. verderben, whence ' lack, want,
need' in Goth, fiaurban 'bediirfen,' OHG. durfan 'Mangel haben, bediir-
fen, notig haben'; and (2) 'compressed, compact,' dividing into (a) 'ro-
bust, strong, thriving' in Lith. tarpd 'Gedeihen, Wachstum,' tarpti 'ge-
deihen, zunehmen,' Skt. trpyati 'siittigt sich,' etc., and (b) 'stiff, hard' in
MHG. derp ' fest, hart, tiichtig ; ungesauert,' Lith. tirpti ' erstarren,
fuhllos werden,' Lat. torpeo.
For the first line of development compare Lat. trudo ' thrust, push,
crowd,' ChSl. truditi ' beschweren, qualen,' OE. fireotan 'wear out,
weary,' ON. fireyta 'wear and tear, exhaustion,' firtila 'fail, come to an
end ; want, lack ; become a pauper.' For the second compare ON. /»*ysta
' press, squeeze, thrust,' firystiligr 'compact, stout, robust.' — Fifteen minutes.']
xxvi MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
13. " Grillparzer and Shakespeare." By Professor Chiles
Clifton Ferrell, University of Mississippi.
[The influence of Shakespeare on Grillparzer produces downright imi-
tation in the earlier period. (Robert, Herzog von der Normandie, and Blanka
von Kastilitn.) In later dramas, as in Konig Ottokars Gluck und Ende and
Ein Bruderswist in Hapsburg, the influence is strong, but it is far subtler and
harder to trace. — Read by title.~\
Reports of Committees followed.
The Committee on Change of Name of the Division
recommended that no action be taken on the subject at the
present meeting. The report was adopted.
The Committee on Nominations recommended as follows :
Chairman : Francis A. Blackburn, University of Chicago.
Secretary : Raymond Weeks, University of Missouri.
Members of the Advisory Committee :
A. R. Hohlfeld, University of Wisconsin.
B. L. Bowen, Ohio State University.
D. K. Dodge, University of Illinois.
On motion, the acting Secretary was directed to cast the
ballot of the Division for these nominees.
The Committee on Time and Place reported the following
recommendations :
That as a matter of general policy the meetings of the Division be held
on alternate years at Chicago and on alternate years with institutions at
other convenient points. That the next meeting be held at Madison, Wis-
consin, if arrangements can be made for same. That the date of meeting
be referred to the officers and advisory committee.
The report was" adopted.
The Committee on Report of the Joint Committee on the
subject of a Phonetic English Alphabet reported the follow-
ing resolution :
PROCEEDINGS FOR 1904.
We express our high appreciation of the labors of the Joint Committee
on the subject of a Phonetic English Alphabet and our hearty endorsement
of the Report as a whole.
We urge that arrangements be mnde whereby the Committee may confer
with representatives of the proper European societies in an effort to secure
international agreement.
The report was adopted.
Professor Hiram A. Vance offered the following reso-
lution :
Resolved, That the sincere thanks of the Division be tendered to North-
western University, its officers and faculties, and especially to the members
of the Local Committee, for their kindness and whole-hearted hospitality.
The resolution was unanimously adopted by a rising vote.
FIFTH SESSION, FRIDAY, DECEMBER 30.
The meeting was called to order by the Chairman at 2.50
p. m., and proceeded at once to the reading and discussion of
papers.
14. "Notes on Nature in Hugo's Earlier Works." By
Professor Arthur G. Canfield, University of Michigan.
[ Twenty m inutes. ]
This paper was discussed by Professor Gay.
15. "Repetition and Parallelism in the Earlier Eliza-
bethan Drama." By Professor Frank G. Hubbard, Univer-
sity of Wisconsin. [See Publications, xx, 2.]
[Repetition, the repeated use of the same word, or words, in the same
line, or succeeding lines of verse. Parallelism, the repeated use of the same
form of expression in the same line, or succeeding lines. Different types of
repetition and parallelism described and illustrated. The frequent use of
these forms a characteristic of the Senecan plays : their use in plays of
unknown authorship ; in Kyd, Greene, Lodge, Peele, Marlowe ; in Titus
Andronicus, Henry VI, Richard III. Occurrence of these forms as evidence
of authorship and relation of plays. — Twenty minutes.]
XXviil MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
This paper was discussed by Professors Manly and
Thorndike.
16. " On the Dialect of the Auchinleck and the Caius
Mas. of Guy of Warwick." By Professor Henry C. Penn,
"Washington University.
[Fifteen minutes.]
This paper was discussed by Professor Hohlfeld.
17. "The Gothic Revival in England and Germany."
By Professor Camillo von Klenze, University of Chicago.
[About 1750 the rationalistic attitude towards art had reached its zenith.
The works of Cochin and of Mengs. Interest in Gothic art manifests itself
in England. Later Goethe speaks with profound enthusiasm of the Middle
Ages. In 1790 comes the first attack on the Bolognese masters : Sir Joshua
Beynolds denies them inspiration. In 1797, Wackenroder's plea for sim-
plicity and depth of feeling in art. Intense love for the Catholic past
is the theme of Novalis' Die Christenheit oder Europa (1799) and of
Chateaubriand's Le Genie du Christianisme (1802). Heinrich Meyer,
Goethe's friend, betrays profound appreciation for Giotto and other early
masters.
The Schlegels (writings of 1800-14) represent a complete revulsion in
the interpretation of art. In the course of the nineteenth century, views
similar to this find expression in all parts of Europe (cf. Henri Beyle in
France and Kuskin in England. ) — Fifteen minutes.']
In the absence of Professor von Klenze, this paper was
read by title.
18. "Rhyme Peculiarities in the Divina Commedia." By
Dr. A. de Salvio, Northwestern University.
[1. Shift of Accent. 2. Oxytonic rhyme. 3. Proparoxytonic rhyme.
4. Compound rhyme. 5. Equivocal rhyme of identical words. 6. Imper-
fect rhyme of s : s., and zz : zz. — Twenty minutes.']
19. "The relation of Der bestrafte Brudermord to Shake-
speare's Hamlet." By Dr. M. Blakemore Evans, Univer-
sity of Wisconsin. [Printed in Modern Philology, n, 3.]
PROCEEDINGS FOR 1904. xxix
[In Modern Philology (u, 2) Creizenach contests Tanger's theory that
the German version is derived mainly from the First Quarto of Hamlet, and
reiterates his well known view, without adducing new material. The
present paper attempts to point out difficulties in his way, and to offer
proof for the Kyd theory. — Fifteen minutes.]
This paper was discussed by Professors Manly, Jack, and
Thorndike.
20. " Antwort Michel Styfels vff Doctor Thomas Mur-
nars murnarrische phantasey, (so er wider yn erdichtet hat.)
1523." By Professor Ernst Voss, University of Wisconsin.
[In this pamphlet, directed against Murner as an answer to his "biich-
lin " that was reprinted in Publications of the Mod. Lang. Ass'n, Vol. XI,
No. 3, Styfel praises the "grossen vnd hochen ernts, of Murner's Ant-
wort vnd Klag, and seems to be surprised at the dignified tone of the
Franciscan. It is valuable material for the understanding and appreciation
of a man whose " Charakterbild schwankt in der Geschichte." — Read by
tide.]
Adjourned.
E. E. BRANDON,
Acting Secretary.
XXX MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
OFFICERS OF THE ASSOCIATION FOR 1905
President,
FRANCIS B. GUMMERE,
Haverford College, Haverford, Pa.
Vtce-Presidents,
LEWIS F. MOTT, WALTER C. BRONSON,
College of the City of New York, New York, N. Y. Brown University, Providence, R. I.
HERBERT E. GREENE,
Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md.
Secretary, Treasurer,
C. H. GRANDGENT, WILLIAM GUILD HOWARD,
Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass.
CENTRAL DIVISION
Chairman, Secretary,
F. A. BLACKBURN, RAYMOND WEEKS,
University of Chicago, Chicago, III. University of Missouri, Columbia, Mo.
Acting Secretary,
E. E. BRANDON,
Miami University, Oxford, 0.
EXECUTIVE COUNCIL
F. M. WARREN, JOHN E. MATZKE,
Yale University, New Haven, Conn. Leland Stanford Jr. University, Palo Alto, Cal,
H. C. G. BRANDT, CHARLES HARRIS,
Hamilton College, Clinton, N. Y. Western Reserve University, Cleveland, 0.
C. ALPHONSO SMITH, JOHN B. HENNEMAN,
University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, N. C. University of the South, Sewanee, Tenn.
A. R. HOHLFELD, GEORGE HEMPL,
University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich.
EDITORIAL COMMITEE
C. H. GRANDGENT, RAYMOND WEEKS,
Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. University of Missouri, Columbia, Mo,
CALVIN THOMAS, JAMES W. BRIGHT,
Columbia University, New York, N. Y, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore. Md.
PROCEEDINGS FOR 1904.
THE CHAIRMAN'S ADDRESS
DELIVERED ON WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 28, 1904, IN
CHICAGO, ILL,, AT THE NINTH ANNUAL
MEETING OF THE CENTRAL
DIVISION.
BY A. R. HOHLFELD.
THE TEACHING OF THE HISTORY OF A FOREIGN
LITERATURE. WITH A LONG INTRODUCTION
JUSTIFYING THE CHOICE OF THE
SUBJECT.
Ladies and Gentlemen: — The subject which I desire to
present to you to-night relates primarily to our work as
teachers and only indirectly to our interests in productive
research. Such a choice, I feel convinced, does not call for
any special justification on an occasion like this. If, never-
theless, I have decided to plead for admission at a door that
apparently is standing wide open, it is due to the fact that
an invisible ' pentagramma ' on its threshold seems to exer-
cise its restraining magic upon many who would like to enter.
Notwithstanding certain suggestions in our present con-
stitution, our association is an organization not only of
investigators, but, I might say, primarily of teachers. As
a matter of fact, semi-official regret has been repeatedly
expressed that not more of our secondary teachers are among
our active members and I, for one, certainly share this feel-
ing. To maintain, however, that every secondary teacher,
yea even eveiy college instructor, could or should be an
original investigator is either a naive delusion concerning the
actual status of our educational system or, what is more
XXxii MODEEN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
dangerous, it is based on a mechanical and superficial inter-
pretation of the terms 'original scholarship' or ' research
work.' What we reasonably can expect of every well-quali-
fied teacher, even in the secondary schools and smallest
colleges, aside from his general interest in his subject as a
whole, is the choice of some definite branch of it, no matter
how small, in which he is bent upon ' knowing all things.'
In this sense he can be and should try to be a ' specialist,'
although this specialization should not be allowed to prevent
his all-around growth in his subject as a whole, in as far as
this is needed for the gradual improvement of his actual
work in the class-room. I should like to see 'hi every
teacher a deep and real interest in some one movement,
or author or problem, which he tries to know thoroughly and
in regard to which he endeavors to keep abreast of the latest
theories and developments. Such a teacher, while never
having worked constructively in his 'specialty,' might yet
be so thoroughly conversant with it as to be able effectively
to discuss its problems with the actual investigator who
conies fresh from his last monograph or laboratory experi-
ment. Any one who is accustomed to view things soberly
will admit that this is an ideal far enough beyond reality to
deserve to be called an ideal, and yet not so completely out-
side of the range of the possible as to cause despair or a
lowering of standards.
If such prolonged and intimate association with a definite
set of problems should, in some cases, finally lead to sound
scholarly production, we shall all hail it with delight. In
that case the teacher has become an investigator and thereby
has proved his fitness for that more advanced teaching which
should never be without accompanying work of an original
character. On the other hand, there must be — and I pray
there may be — able young scholars who, after a preliminary
piece of research work creditably performed for one of the
PROCEEDINGS FOB 1904. XXxiii
higher degrees, will become convinced that their best talents
do not lie in the direction of original research. If these,
without losing sight of the above mentioned ideal of ever
active receptive scholarship, decide to become as strong
teachers as possible and besides perhaps authors of educa-
tional books or scholarly popularizers, they will do greater
credit to their profession and achieve more for the higher
life of their country than by a mistaken pride in doing so-
called research work at all hazards.
In our university circles, these facts are frequently over-
looked, especially by those who represent subjects that belong
chiefly to the later years in college or even only to the
graduate school. In philosophy, economics, geology, or
comparative philology, for instance, it will be possible to
eliminate largely the difference between the average teacher
and the productive scholar. The number of those who pre-
sent these subjects to mature and well-trained students in
the upper college classes or the graduate school must needs
be limited, and they will be well able to conduct most of
their courses so as to establish an intimate and fruitful con-
nection between their own research and teaching. This is
not feasible, however, to the same degree in subjects like
those which we represent. Of course, in their more advanced
linguistic and literary aspects, our subjects occupy a position
exactly corresponding to that just outlined for philosophy or
geology. But, in addition to this, we have a large and
important work to perform of a more general educational
character, both disciplinary and practical. In this regard,
the languages and mathematics, but also history and the
fundamental sciences, occupy a position of their own.
In these subjects, thousands upon thousands of teachers
must be engaged in presenting to their students elements
which, in the nature of things, can have only a rare and
remote connection with the sphere of original research. Even
XXxiv MODEKN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
if it were possible, I cannot consider it desirable that the
greater part of this work should be done by men who have
learned to consider themselves primarily as investigators.
For, in all probability, their surroundings and conditions of
work will be such as to make it impossible for them in their
research work to obtain really valuable results, which alone
could afford them genuine satisfaction. But the displace-
ment of values, which is but too apt to be produced under
such conditions, may easily put them out of taste with the
instructional work which they are called upon to do. The
great dignity and educational importance of devotion to this
work may thus entirely escape them. Many of them will
see, or pretend to see, nothing in it but drudgery. In our
universities, as they are at present organized, we have much
to suffer, in the departments which we represent^ from the
frequent incompatibility of the claims of elementary instruc-
tion and advanced research.
It never fails to give me pain when young instructors,
who by their record and talent are indeed entitled to expect
some day to win their spurs as investigators, speak disdain-
fully of their lower classes as intolerable or, at best, tedious
1 drudgery.' For the attitude of the teacher must inevitably
shape the attitude of his students. But if, for the sake of
not appearing any less ambitious, the same sentiments are
expressed by such men as give promise of being strong,
earnest, influential teachers, whereas they can hardly hope to
attain mediocrity as investigators, then an indignation seizes
me which, I trust, is not unrighteous. I would readily
grant that, in many cases, such an attitude is merely assumed
for effect and does not reflect the real convictions of the per-
petrator. He may be most earnestly and devotedly inter-
ested in his students, whom he is introducing to the mysteries
of English prose composition or of French or German gram-
mar. Nevertheless there remains the serious fact that the
PROCEEDINGS FOR 1904. XXXV
fostering of such a spirit must, in the long run, undermine
the desire of excelling in the actual work entrusted to one.
It must tend to unsettle values and confuse standards, effects
most undesirable for that clear and stimulating intellectual
atmosphere in which alone truly scholarly work, be it of the
humblest or of the highest, can be expected to thrive.
At any rate, in my opinion, the wise and careful adjust-
ment of the divergent interests of more or less elementary
instruction and original research constitutes one of the greatest
problems now confronting the modern American university.
The difficulty is a relatively new one. It did not exist as
long as the research ideal was not a dominating factor in the
conception of the American university, and it need not now
exist in strictly collegiate institutions without a graduate
school. But just those 'of us who are earnest believers in
the future of the American university as a home for original
research, must be deeply concerned in not allowing the new
ideal to interfere seriously with the legitimate sphere of the
older one. The great majority of the students who take a
college course in even our foremost universities, do not
intend to become investigators, and those who do come in
quest of advanced instruction and research work cannot meet
our best expectations unless they have been strongly and
devotedly taught in their previous work.
But I fear that you begin to think that I am hopelessly
wandering, not only from my chosen theme, but even from
any and everything connected with the work of the Modern
Language Association. This, however, is not the case. Just
now I am right in the midst of you.
Suppose that, for argument's sake, I leave out of con-
sideration all secondary teachers of modern languages,
inasmuch as thus far we have not been able to interest
them in our work in any numbers : the fact becomes only
the more apparent that our Association represents the college
XXXvi MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
and university interests of this country in the departments
of English and the modern foreign languages. If we desire
to fulfil our mission broadly and adequately, our work must
correspond to the actual conditions existing there. If con-
flicting ideals need an adjustment there, there is all reason
to suppose that the same adjustment is needed with us.
Let us trace in few words, how, in this respect, matters
have developed with us during the twenty-one years of our
existence. The first volume of our Publications of the year
1884-5, out of a total of seventeen printed papers, contained
as many as nine, or over one-half, of a general pedagogical
character, dealing with questions of method, place in the
curriculum, and so forth. It is true, English and the
modern languages were then still struggling for that educa-
tional recognition which, largely through the very eiforts of
this Association, they now enjoy. Nevertheless, we see
clearly to what extent the pedagogical ideal was then over-
shadowing the research ideal.
The succeeding volumes of our Publications show a rapid,
almost too rapid, decrease in the proportion of general or
pedagogical papers. After the first three volumes only one
or two appeared annually, until finally in the seventh volume
of 1892 there is not a single paper printed that deals with
the teaching interests of our profession. Since then, aside
from some of the presidential addresses that have dealt with
such problems, scarcely a single pedagogical article seems to
have been published. There have been a few pedagogical
papers, reports and discussions at the meetings, but what
little of them has found its way into the Publications at all,
has been safely hidden away in the Proceedings in the
Appendixes. This means that the older college ideal, in
our Association, has been almost entirely superseded by the
modern university ideal as it has developed in our strongest
institutions ; and these — as is proper and natural — have been
the acknowledged leaders in the development of this body.
PROCEEDINGS FOR 1904. XXXvii
We all rejoice heartily in this ascendency and final victory
of scholarship, and we can easily imagine how much, in the
early history of the Association, the repression of narrowly
methodological interests was needed. We feel deeply grate-
ful to those who, in this struggle for supremacy, held high
the banner of learning and ultimately won the day. The
legitimate question now, however, seems to be whether the
swing of the pendulum has not carried us too far. With
our present strength as a strictly scholarly body assured, can
tnd should we not give some more attention than we now
do, to the broader educational and practical interests of our
profession ? Has the ideal of productive scholarship as yet
taken root so little that we fear it will suffer and die unless
surrounded by the walls of a high protective tariff? We
know that this is not the case. The exclusiveness which
once, no doubt, was the part of wisdom and has helped to
make us strong is now the part of timidity or of super-
ciliousness and deprives us of the fulness of the influence
which we could wield.
Pressing questions in regard to various practical aspects
of modern language teaching are as numerous as ever. In
some of the leading countries of Europe their discussion
has occupied the principal university scholars and school
men alike, and in Germany especially the foremost leaders
in research have again and again met with the representa-
tives of the " middle schools " in practical attempts to come
nearer to a satisfactory solution of vexing problems. It is
by no means only the well-worn question of one ' method '
against another; it is the far broader and deeper problem
of the exact function of modern language study in the
intellectual training of the student, and all that depends on
clearness on this point. As, for instance, the question of
beginning foreign language teaching with a modern language
at an early age, before Latin is taken up, a German reform-
XXXviii MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
movement which had its beginning in Altona and Frankfurt
and is now generally referred to as the " Frankfurt plan."
Or the question of the proper university preparation for
secondary and college teachers of modern languages, which,
in turn, involves in a measure the arrangement of studies
leading to the degree of Ph. D. Besides, there are many
other questions peculiar to our American conditions, in
regard to which all of us constantly feel the need of a
gradual crystalization of our corporate judgment.
Seeing that in our country we have no regulative central
organization in educational matters, but that, in the end,
everything has to be accomplished by influencing public
opinion, it is especially important for us to devote united
attention and study to these and similar problems. But
whereas regular battles of contending armies have been
waged in Europe, with many men of the highest scholarly
reputation in the thick of the fight, we have been satisfied
with being more or less interested onlookers, contributing
hardly anything to the solution of the problems. We are all
exceedingly grateful for what the Report of our Committee
of Twelve has done to strengthen and unify modern language
instruction in our schools, but the framers of this report
would be the last, I feel sure, to claim that it represents an
original positive contribution to the settlement of the broad
questions involved. Besides, it is characteristic that the
very appointment of the committee grew out of the request
of another body.
This suggests another thought. If even the most solid
educational interests of our profession are to be almost
entirely eliminated from our meetings and publications, these
interests, becoming more and more alienated from us, will
either be transferred to other organizations already in exist-
ence or they will find expression in new organizations of
their own. If we desire to be a research society pure and
PROCEEDINGS FOE 1904.
simple, as learned societies rightfully may be, such a result
need not to dismay us. If, however, we desire to be also
recognized as the leaders in all legitimate questions concern-
ing the scholarly teaching of our subjects, we cannot view
with equanimity the present trend of things.
Moreover, we are not so situated that what we fail to do
at our meetings, could be easily accomplished through our
pens in departmental journals of a high order devoted to the
practice of modern language instruction. What have we to
compare with, for instance, German publications like Zeit-
schriftfur den deutschen Unterricht, Zeitschrift fur franzosischen
und englischen Unterricht, Die Neueren Sprachen, or certain
departments of the Archiv, of Neue Jahrbucher, Anglia, and
others? The Publications, the Journal, and Modern Phi-
lology are all exclusively, I feel tempted to say ostentatiously,
devoted to research. Even the Notes make no attempt at
taking systematic care of the needs of our teachers or of the
broader problems affecting our profession. The Pddagogische
Monatshe/te finally, aside from their ill-chosen title, have put
their emphasis too much on the side of German instruction
in the elementary schools to make much headway among the
teachers in our high schools and smaller colleges. In short,
we possess in this direction practically nothing of national
significance and undeniably scholarly character. Is this a
natural and healthful situation? Are we as an association
doing our duty in the face of so deplorable a state of affairs ?
If we are unable to remedy this defect within the limits of
our organization, are we taking any steps looking for im-
provement on the outside ?
The Central Division of our Association, in its former
constitution, was right in stating as the object of its organi-
zation " the advancement of the scientific study and teaching
of the modern languages and literatures," and I wish that
in merging again more closely with the parent Association
xl MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
we might have been able to bring to it this broader inter-
pretation of the object of our existence. I hope that in
spirit, at any rate, we shall all hold to the broader definition.
As an attempt in this direction, the Central Division, a
few years ago, instituted departmental sections for the dis-
cussion of pedagogical questions. Undoubtedly this plan, to
become effective in the best and highest sense, will need
further development and modification. What, however, is
gratifying and seems to indicate that the movement was in
the right 'direction, is the fact that some of our strongest
members could be easily induced to identify themselves with
the departmental meetings. For this work more than any
other, to remain thoroughly scholarly and representative,
needs the control of men of unquestioned standing in the
sphere of scholarship besides their interest in the broader
educational problems of their profession.
The renewed experience of this meeting will help us to
see more clearly some of the defects of the present plan and
to devise means for avoiding them in the future. A few
suggestions, however, I beg leave to make now, so that you
may be able to test them by your impressions of the sectional
meetings themselves.
(1) To make work of this kind thoroughly successful, we
must plainly recognize the dangers which must result if it is
not kept in strong hands and on a high level. But the road
of progress is always a road of danger.
(2) Not more than one session of an annual meeting
should regularly be given over to general papers and to
discussions of a pedagogical character ; and the organization
of this session should be flexible enough to allow all three
sections to remain together, or two of them to combine, or all
three to meet singly.
(3) The preparation of the program for this session should,
therefore, not be left to individual initiative, but be com-
PROCEEDINGS FOE 1904. xli
mitted either to the officers of the Division or to a committee
representing the interests of the different sections.
(4) Only one or two subjects or topics should be admitted
for each section and the off-hand introduction of additional
topics should rather be discouraged than encouraged. Mem-
bers desirous of having certain topics discussed should sug-
gest them to the proper committee.
(5) For each topic a leader or a sub-committee should be
appointed early in the year, so that they could prepare a
careful paper or report in the nature of a positive contribu-
tion to the pedagogical side of our subjects. In such papers,
the parallel conditions in other countries should be carefully
studied and represented. The object should be to secure in
this way valuable contributions to the broader and more
practical aspects of our work. If possible, these should
culminate iu certain definite theses around which the dis-
cussion could center and thus be kept from scattering.
(6) Such papers and reports should by no means deal
chiefly with questions of ( method ' of more or less elementary
instruction. Methods of higher and of graduate instruction,
requirements for the higher degrees, the organization of the
graduate seminary and pro-seminary, the standard of the
reading knowledge of French and German required of Ph. D.
candidates, the collegiate training of prospective secondary
teachers, questions of nomenclature, needed improvements in
text-books and dictionaries, the introduction of foreign lan-
guage study in the elementary schools — these are only a few
of the many questions in regard to which carefully prepared
reports and discussions would prove of great benefit to our-
selves and to our cause.
(7) Finally, those of the papers and reports that are
approved by the editorial committee should be published, so
as to secure the widest possible circulation for them, certainly
within the Association, and better still — in some cases at
xlii MODEEN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
least — far beyond its limits. There may be very good reasons
for reserving the body of our Publications exclusively for
research work. In that case, however, some additional
arrangement should be made for the effective publication of
careful studies of more general questions.
We of the Central Division should be quite free, if we saw
fit, to organize our sectional meetings in some such way,
except in the matter of publication. The main Association
would have to adjust such a plan to the work of the peda-
gogical section already in existence. This, however, would
hardly create any special difficulties, provided the desire
really exists to grant more consideration than of late to some
of the practical and educational questions of our work.
Only now, after long philosophising about the justifiability
and desirability of presenting to you, on this occasion, an
' educational ' question in preference to any other, I come to
my real subject : Some questions of method in the teaching
of introductory or survey courses in the history of a foreign
literature. I expressed my ideas on this subject for the first
time in the summer of 1901 in Indianapolis. It was an
address given before the " Deutsch-amerikanischer Lehrer-
bund " and afterwards published in Pddagogische Monatshefte,
Jan.-Feb. 1902, and thus failed to reach many of those
whom I had had primarily in mind in formulating my
thoughts. I reiterated some of the same ideas here in
Chicago in the German section of the Central Division
meeting of two years ago ; but my remarks, which were
then limited to a few minutes and delivered without careful
preparation, did not find their way into print. I have felt,
therefore, that I ought not to let this opportunity go by
without presenting more fully my views on this subject,
which has the advantage of affecting in some way all of the
modern language departments which we represent.
PROCEEDINGS FOR 1904. xliii
If my illustrations are almost entirely taken from German
literature, it is merely due to the fact that I am best
acquainted with this phase of the subject. But mutatis
mutandis the arguments that apply to German, would also
apply to French or, indeed, to any literature that is a
' foreign ' one for the students to whom it is taught. Hence,
also to English literature as taught to German or French
students.
Real intellectual benefit, not merely a mechanical knowl-
edge of facts, from an introductory historical course of any
kind, is difficult both for the teacher to impart and for the
student to acquire. It is difficult in political and social
history, more difficult in literary history, but most difficult
of all in the historical presentation of a ' foreign ' literature.
In connection with the study of the literary development
of his own country, the student can be expected to do a
reasonably large amount of reading of representative works.
Besides, in most cases, he will possess already a fair range
of reading gradually acquired at home, in school, and, let us
hope we may soon be able to add, at a theater mindful of its
high cultural mission. For each large movement which is
discussed he, therefore, possesses or can acquire the knowl-
edge of at least one or two typical works. This will enable
him to follow intelligently the descriptions, deductions and
criticisms which he hears in the lectures or reads in books
of reference.
The case becbmes quite different and exceedingly more
difficult as soon as we approach a foreign literature. There
is, first of all, the barrier of language. Even the junior
and senior in college, who has made somewhat of a specialty
of German or French, cannot possibly be expected to read
hundreds of pages a week in representative works of litera-
ture to keep pace with the lectures. But this difficulty,
serious as it unquestionably is, to my mind is insignificant in
xliv MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
comparison with the fact that in teaching a ' foreign ' litera-
ture we have, as it were, nothing to build on ; no innate
instincts to appeal to, no racial predisposition in our favor,
none of those mysterious and yet all powerful elements of
character, taste, and belief which, through generations of
common inward and outward experiences have slowly formed
what we call national feeling or national culture. For even
in introducing a student to a foreign literature, we cannot be
satisfied to acquaint him with biographical data, outlines of
plots, and set critical opinions. We must aim to create a real
appreciation of the foreign national character, institutions,
and Weltanschauung, which have made a certain literature
what it is and not something else, not merely a second edi-
tion of our own with only a different outward stamp or
pattern upon it. For just here lies, to my mind, the educa-
tive, broadening value of all historical study, whether in
political and social institutions or in art and literature. If
pursued in the right spirit it must produce a sympathetic
interest in our neighbors, respect for their individuality, and,
last not least, the desire to raise our own national culture to
its highest possible development in friendly rivalry with
what we have learned to admire in others.
From this point of view it is to be hoped that in our
country the serious study of foreign literature, as one of the
best and fullest reflections of foreign life and character, may
increase manifold in range and intensity in the years to
come. But from this standpoint also the question becomes
only the more real and important : What can we do to make
such study as fruitful as possible in its broad relation to
national life and culture?
We probably have among us here as elsewhere able
scholars who are so much under the spell of the theory of
the disinterestedness of scholarly work, or rather of a wrong
interpretation of this noble theory, that to them a piece of
PROCEEDINGS FOR 1904.
research work is intrinsically more scholarly and dignified
if it has no imaginable connection with the needs of our
physical or intellectual life. But even these will hardly
apply such a theory to those general courses in literature
which are taken by students who have no intention of
becoming specialists in the philological or historical study
of literature. In such courses, the result at which we aim,
aside from imparting definite information, must be a richer
and deeper culture of the mind of the student. From this
again it follows that we must try, in some way or other, to
establish a quickening relationship between the life the
students bring with them and the addition to it that we
desire to give them.
The amount of English literature which the average
college student brings to the more general courses in that
subject may often be exceedingly small and ill-chosen in
comparison with what as teachers we should like to see.
Especially will this be the case in a new country with a
heterogeneous population like ours. But infinitely less even
is the amount of German or French reading which the
student can possibly be expected to bring to a general course
in these literatures. This fact cannot fail to emphasize the
need of at least one consideration. All early courses of
reading should, as much as possible, be so arranged that
they contain only material of distinct value, and little or no
ballast from which the student has merely derived linguistic
training, but no insight into the foreign life and character.
By this I by no means wish to say that only the so-called
classics should constitute the early reading of our students.
Far from it. But yet only books that are typically French
or German, that afford a valuable insight into at least this
or that phase of the national life or culture. Besides, lists
of suitable books for outside reading which are not too
difficult for the student's advancement and at the same tune
xlvi MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
are interesting and characteristic, should be kept before the
attention of students in all advanced classes. These books
should be made easily accessible and, in some instances,
should be available in more than one copy.
For such purposes editions with helpful footnotes, which
I should never recommend for the regular study of a text
in the class-room, would prove very valuable. In fact, I
believe, that there might well be a series of editions of the
best works of modern literature with interesting literary
introductions and helpful footnotes explaining difficult pas-
sages, but with nothing about the book that in the least
smacks of the professor and of class-room methods. Such
books, though they might well be used for outside reading
in advanced classes in high schools or colleges, should be
primarily intended for those circles of the general public
who are interested in foreign literature and capable of read-
ing it in the vernacular, but who are still in need of occasional
help and desire to see the work against its proper literary
background. Here then is a task with the promise of real
usefulness, for our many publishers and authors of text-books,
who so often merely repeat over and over again, a little
better or a little worse, the same general type of edition.
We teachers are but too ready to complain that too many
of our students drop the reading of foreign literature on
leaving school or college. But have we done all in our
power to render the continuation of such study easy for
them? At any rate, no senior class should be dismissed
without outlining to them suitable and profitable courses of
further reading, with suggestions as to the best methods
of securing the books, prices, and so forth. Suppose that
out of a class of twenty only one student would ever make
any use of the help you have furnished to all, would you
not feel repaid and encouraged? If you consider for a
moment the range of our libraries and so-called book stores
PKOCEEDINQS FOB 1904. xlvii
in practically all of the smaller towns and even some of the
larger cities, and if you further consider that many of our
former students are so situated in later life that even these
are not accessible to them, the value and necessity of such
information will appear unquestionable.
The same is true of good English translations of the great
works of foreign literatures. They are precious few, and
we college and university men, as a rule, do nothing to
encourage their increase. We even seem to take pride in
appearing absolutely ignorant when approached on the sub-
ject, because, forsooth, we do not need or use them ourselves.
In fact, this subject has been so generally neglected that
even he who realizes the importance of this phase of inter-
national literary relations cannot find adequate information
in any one place. The German or French bibliographies
neglect the subject quite universally, and Goedeke, for
instance, is absolutely unreliable in his references to trans-
lation literature. But even in books expressly prepared for
English and American students or readers, to which one
would most naturally turn, the subject is slighted or entirely
omitted, as if it were of no great practical importance or as
if, at any rate, we professional guardians of the study of
foreign literatures had nothing to do with it. But if not we,
who has? I do not mean that we ourselves should neces-
sarily spend our time making translations, even if it were
quite certain that we were able to do it creditably. But I
do believe that we should encourage, direct, criticize, collect
or edit such work wherever it is of high grade and high
aim. But how many of us even know whether we have
good English translations of, for instance, Herder or Novalis ;
or how much has been translated from authors like Kleist,
Grillparzer, Hebbel, or Keller, or which are the best transla-
tions of certain famous lyrics and where to find them. And
the same is true, in a large measure, of English works of
xlviii MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
biography or criticism, many of them of no independent
value whatever, but others exceedingly interesting and
suggestive just on account of the peculiar angle of vision
from which the phenomena have been surveyed and judged.
For this, no doubt, often corresponds to the attitude which
our own students take instinctively.
These few suggestions must suffice on this point. I only
wish to emphasize one fact, so as not to be misunderstood.
Even if I had the power, I should not wish one scholarly
investigator, who is devoted to his research work, to turn
from his chosen field of labor, be it ever so humble and
narrow, to any of these broader and more practical tasks.
But I must deplore the fact that the energies of those who
are working in what we may call scholarly popularizing, are
apparently entirely used up in text-book making.
But even if in all of these respects the prayed for im-
provements were rapidly forthcoming, the fact still remains
and always will remain that our students must at best have
a very limited first hand acquaintance with the great works
of a foreign literature, when they approach the study of its
historical development and of the men and forces that have
made it. What they, however, will bring to such a course
and continue to bring to it more and more, as our country
grows in literary interests aud cultural refinement, will be
two things, one more objective, the other more subjective,
which they have derived from the study of their own litera-
ture and its history. They have gained a certain amount
of knowledge of the principal periods of English literature
and of their characteristic works and tendencies ; and,
secondly, they have formed a certain literary taste, concern-
ing some of the styles of expression, artistic moods and
genres of literary composition.
It may often be " herzlich wenig ; " but yet it is some-
thing and, above all, it is something that is more or less
PROCEEDINGS FOR 1904.
common to all even in these days of over-election, when the
teacher hardly dares to allude to anything outside of the
immediate subject in hand, because half of the class is sure
never to have studied the subject referred to.
Consider further that this background of subjective literary
instincts and of objective literary knowledge, which each
student brings with him, is deeply interwoven with the
actual experiences of his inner and outer life, at home, in
school, in church, at play, in hours of dreams and longing
fancies, in short that it is part and parcel of his inner self,
in many respects directly reaching to the profoundest instincts
and highest aspirations of which he is capable, and you must
admit that it will be utterly impossible for him to approach
a new literature without constantly having called forth in
him impressions of similarity or contrast with what he
already has become familiar with in his own, and has learned
to love or to dislike or to be indifferent to.
In language teaching the corresponding principle has
long been recognized. No competent judge would seriously
maintain any longer that a class of mature students fluently
speaking their mother tongue should be taught a second
language in the same way as they as children learned to
speak the language of their homes.
But in the realm of literature the difference between the
study of the student's, own literature and the later study of
a foreign literature has to my knowledge never been clearly
recognized or formulated. Nor have the necessary inferences
been drawn from the recognition of this fact. Nevertheless
I believe this to be far more important in the domain of
literature than in that of language. In the acquisition
of the elements of a foreign language a great deal can be
accomplished by processes of instinctive imitation, whereas
in the study of literature everything belongs to the sphere
of conscious reasoning and subjective taste and judgment.
1 MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
Wherever, therefore, a link may naturally be established
between the foreign subject and the concepts already in the
student's mind, it cannot be lightly ignored.
From this point of view I do not hesitate to maintain
that, even if no organic connection existed between French
and German literature on the one hand and English on the
other, it would still be desirable to establish parallels or
points of contrast wherever it could easily and naturally be
done. But how far more fruitful a source for enriching
our instruction and making it more real and effective have
we at our command, where there really has been the closest
mutual interrelation or, at least, the appearance of similar
phenomena from similar facts and conditions.
The three literatures primarily referred to — and the other
western European literatures might easily be included —
show, on the whole, fairly parallel lines of development
from the times of their oldest inscriptions to the days of
modern realism and symbolism. In spite of all the deep-
seated national differences, the great movements have had
much in common, as, for instance, the period of the popular
epic, the rise of the ecclesiastic spirit, the age of the litera-
ture of chivalry, the rise of the drama, the advent of the
classical renaissance, the rule of a rationalistic formalism,
the reaction of romanticism with its revival of the middle
ages and of popular poetry, the modern era of realism, and
so forth. Not only educationally, but also scientifically, it
would be wrong to have a student trace this broad move-
ment in English literature and then again encounter it in
French or German literature, without any reference to the
causes for the likeness and unlikeness to prevent either from
appearing merely arbitrary and accidental.
The same is true of broad types of style in art, as the
popular, the classicistic, the romantic, the realistic; or of
poetic moods, as the anacreontic, the elegiac, the sentimental,
PROCEEDINGS FOE 1904. 11
the pathetic ; of the rise and character of typical literary-
forms, as the folk-song, the miracle play, the pseudo-classi-
cal drama, the picaresque novel ; and of the history of certain
verse forms, as the alliterative verse, the sonnet, the ottava
rima, the alexandrine, — and this list of elements that seem
to demand comparison might be easily increased in many
directions.
The objection may be raised that, despite all similarity,
these phenomena are not exactly the same in different litera-
tures. Very true. So much the more, however, is it necessary
to have reference to the ideas which the students already have
formed concerning them. For if this is not done, the students,
on account of the identity of the terminology used, will of
necessity connect the same idea with the same terms.
But aside from these broad parallels due to the relative
unity in the medieval and modern civilization of Western
Europe, there are between the literatures in question numer-
ous points of actual contact and mutual influence. These
international relations are but slightly mentioned in the ordi-
nary histories of literature. They do not help to make
German literature more attractive to the German student, or
English literature more real to the English or American
reader. But the case is very different where we deal with
a ' foreign ' literature. Here, I repeat, it is more than good
pedagogy, it is the logical outcome of the situation, if we
enter more fully into those phases of the foreign literature
that, in giving or receiving, have been intimately connected
with the student's own. Let one example serve in place of
many. In teaching German literature in a general survey
course to Germans, it is questionable whether I should make
any special reference to authors like Gessner or Kotzebue.
But I certainly should, in some measure, describe the charac-
ter of their work to American students, because, at the
beginning of the 19th century, these authors were widely
lii MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
read in this country and celebrated as great German authors,
at a time when Schiller and Goethe were to the American
public not much more than empty names.
Fortunately, however, the principal points of contact
between English, French, and German literature are not
primarily in obscure places, but, on the contrary, especially
as far as modern literature is concerned, between great writers
and important works. We need only to mention the names
of Marlowe, Shakespeare, Milton, Addison, . Thompson, Pope,
Goldsmith, Fielding, Sterne, Richardson, Ossian, Percy, Scott,
Coleridge, Longfellow, Byron, Poe, Cooper, Emerson, Carlyle,
Dickens, Whitman to bring to mind at once important inter-
relations of English and German literature. The German
teacher of German literature will make light of most of these
links. Instead of making his task easier, they would make
it harder. His students would be too unfamiliar with most
of these English and American authors to derive much bene-
fit from allusions to them. The same is more or less true of
American or English teachers of English literature. They
will place no more emphasis on these relations than seems
absolutely necessary. Quite different, however, is the case
of the American teacher of German literature. For him these
interrelations must become exceedingly valuable adjuncts to
his teaching, inasmuch as they tend to draw the foreign
literature into closer connection with the student's own
literary life and experience.
If I am correct in emphasizing the advantage, yea even
the necessity of such a method, the question presents itself:
Why has the educational importance of a comparative treat-
ment in the teaching of a foreign literature not been definitely
recognized in theory, nor in the practice of writing text-
books? For neither in editions of individual authors, nor
in manuals dealing with the general development of a foreign
literature has this principle received adequate recognition.
PROCEEDINGS FOB 1904. liii
One reason unquestionably is that the comparative study
of literature itself, though by no means new as- a method,
has only relatively recently received a strong impetus in the
direction of dealing systematically with the main problems
of international literary relations. Many of the actual results
obtained are, therefore, still unfamiliar and not easy of access.
Besides, a great many problems are still unsolved or as good
as unsolved, as far as accurate detailed investigations are
concerned.
Another reason for the evident neglect of this field in its
application to the practical needs of teaching lies in the fact
that the great majority of our text-books and manuals on
German literature have been patterned rather too closely
upon purely German sources, with too little regard for the
difference of treatment that should follow from the neces-
sarily different view-point of the reader. In strictly scientific
works intended for specialists only, of course, no such con-
cession would be required. In more popular works, however,
intended for the cultured public in general, and in educa-
tional books intended for foreign students I can only consider
it as a serious mistake if careful attention is not paid to all
those elements that can legitimately be used for making the
foreign subject matter more real and for bringing it closer
home to those who are forced to approach it from the outside.
I, therefore, cannot consider it anything short of deplor-
able that in an excellent and stately volume on the whole
range of the history of German literature recently published
by an English author for the English public an index of
about 1,200 names contains only about five English names.
In a more recent American volume on the German literature
of the 19th century the proportion of English names that
have found their way into the index is more satisfactory.
But although in this work the unusual attempt has been
made to represent the whole period from a rather foreign
Hv MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
point of view, the names of Byron, George Eliot and Whit-
man, for instance, would be looked for in vain. Others, like
Dickens, are found, but barely mentioned.
But I have already greatly taxed your kindly patience
and, in conclusion, will confine myself to the brief statement
of a few practical considerations which to me seem to be the
logical deductions from my line of thought and argument :
(1) Teachers of a foreign literature should as much as
possible be also intimate students of English literature,
particularly in those portions of it which represent im-
portant interrelations with or interesting parallels to the
literary phenomena which they have to teach. Those of us
who are of foreign birth and training should, besides, be
especially careful to acquaint ourselves with those works of
English or American literature which, though perhaps unim-
portant from an international point of view, form the more
or less general canon of reading of young Americans in
connection with their English literature studies in school
and college.
(2) Students specializing in a foreign literature with a
view of teaching should be urged to do at least a fair amount
of work in English literature. For candidates for the degree
of Ph. D. who have thesis and major work in a foreign
literature, English literature should be emphasized as a
desirable minor, unless the special nature of the student's
investigation work or his definite plans for the future should
make another combination more desirable.
(3) The American investigator in a foreign literature can
find in the field of international literary relations a large
number of interesting problems, for whose treatment he often
possesses unusual personal qualifications and library facili-
ties. A considerable amount of valuable work of this kind
has been done in recent years, but a great deal more remains
to be done, if we are gradually to construct the general his-
PROCEEDINGS FOR 1904. Iv
tory of English and American literary influence in the con-
tinental countries of Europe and, vice versa, their influence in
England and America. From a practical standpoint such
results are particularly desirable in regard to the literatures
of France or Germany, because they are far more generally
taught than others. If a tendency toward arbitrary hap-
hazard specialization has of late years often produced wliat
the great German historian Lamprecht has quite recently
deplored as "das planlos individualistische Forschen der
letzten Jahrzehute um des Forschens halber," this no doubt
is a field in which careful and strictly scholarly exploration
is actually needed.
May these Christinas wishes and holiday musings which
I have presented to you to-night be received by you in the
same spirit in which they have been given : As frank, but
purely personal expressions of opinion and conviction. All
I hope for them is careful consideration and severe but
impartial criticism. But whatever their fate may be, I shall
feel fully rewarded if the views expressed should in the least
degree help to increase the ultimate usefulness of the work
of this Association, even though, after careful consideration
of the questions raised, the future development should not be
in the path to which I have tried to point.
May the deliberations upon which we are about to enter
be productive of good for the Association ! May the Asso-
ciation in turn become an ever-increasing source of inspira-
tion for all of its members !
Ivi MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
CONSTITUTION OF THE MODERN LANGUAGE
ASSOCIATION OF AMERICA.
ADOPTED ON THE TWENTY-NINTH OF DECEMBEK, 1903.
i.
The name of this Society shall be The Modern Language
Association of America.
n.
1. The object of this Association shall be the advancement
of the study of the Modern Languages and their Literatures
through tjie promotion of friendly relations among scholars,
through the publication of the results of investigations by
members, and through the presentation and discussion of
papers at an annual meeting.
2. The meeting of the Association shall be held at such
place and time as the Executive Council shall from year to
year determine. But at least as often as once in four years
there shall be held a Union Meeting, for which some central
point in the interior of the country shall be chosen.
ni.
Any person whose candidacy has been approved by the
Secretary and Treasurer may become a member on the pay-
ment of three dollars, and may continue a member by the
payment of the same amount each year. Any member, or
any person eligible to membership, may become a life
member by a single payment of forty dollars or by the
PROCEEDINGS FOB 1904. Ivii
payment of fifteen dollars a year for three successive years.
Distinguished foreign scholars may be elected to honorary
membership by the Association on nomination by the Execu-
tive Council.
IV.
1. The officers and governing boards of the Association
shall be : a President, three Vice-Presidents, a Secretary, a
Treasurer ; an Executive Council consisting of these six
officers, the Chairmen of the several Divisions, and seven
other members ; and an Editorial Committee consisting of
the Secretary of the Association (who shall be Chairman
ex ojficio), the Secretaries of the several Divisions, and two
other members.
2. The President and the Vice-Presidents shall be elected
by the Association, to hold office for one year.
3. The Chairmen and Secretaries of Divisions shall be
chosen by the respective Divisions. ,
4. The other officers shall be elected by the Association
at a Union Meeting, to hold office until the next Union
Meeting. Vacancies occurring between two Union Meetings
shall be filled by the Executive Council.
i
v.
1 . The President, Vice-Presidents, Secretary, and Treasurer
shall perform the usual duties of such officers. The Secretary
shall, furthermore, have charge of the Publications of the
Association and the preparation of the program of the annual
meeting.
2. The Executive Council shall perform the duties assigned
to it in Articles II, III, IV, VII, and VIII ; it shall, more-
over, determine such questions of policy as may be referred
to it by the Association and such as may arise hi the course
of the year and call for immediate decision.
Iviii MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
3. The Editorial Committee shall render such assistance
as the Secretary may need in editing the Publications of the
Association and preparing the annual program.
VI.
1. The Association may, to further investigation in any
special branch of Modern Language study, create a Section
devoted to that end.
2. The officers of a Section shall be a Chairman and a
Secretary, elected annually by the Association. They shall
form a standing committee of the Association, and may add
to their number any other members interested in the same
subject.
VII.
1. When, for geographical reasons, the members from
any group of States shall find it expedient to hold a separate
annual meeting, the Executive Council may arrange with
these members to form a Division, with power to call a
meeting at such place and time as the members of the
Division shall select ; but no Division meeting shall be held
during the year in which the Association holds a Union
Meeting. The expense of Division meetings shall be borne
by the Association. The total number of Divisions shall not
at any time exceed three. The present Division is hereby
continued.
2. The members of a Division shall pay their dues to the
Treasurer of the Association, and shall enjoy the same rights
and privileges and be subject to the same conditions as other
members of the Association.
3. The officers of a Division shall be a Chairman and a
Secretary. The Division shall moreover, have power to
create such committees as may be needed for its own busi-
ness. The program of the Division meeting shall be prepared
PROCEEDINGS FOB 1904. lix
by the Secretary of the Division in consultation with the
Secretary of the Association.
VIII.
This Constitution may be amended by a two-thirds vote
at any Union Meeting, provided the proposed amendment
has received the approval of two-thirds of the members of
the Executive Council.
MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
MEMBERS OF THE MODERN LANGUAGE
ASSOCIATION OF AMERICA
INCLUDING MEMBERS OF THE CENTRAL DIVISION OF THE
ASSOCIATION.
Adams, Edward Larrabee, Instructor in French and Spanish, University
of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [1118 S. University Ave.]
Adams, Warren Austin, Professor of German, Dartmouth College, Han-
over, N. H.
Adler Cyrus, Librarian, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D. C.
Alden, Raymond Macdonald, Assistant Professor of English Literature
and Rhetoric, Leland Stanford Jr. University, Palo Alto, Cal.
Allen, Edward A., Professor of the English Language and Literature,
University of Missouri, Columbia, Mo.
Allen, Philip Schuyler, Assistant Professor of German Literature, Uni-
versity of Chicago, Chicago, 111. [612 W. 60th Place.]
Almstedt, Hermann Benjamin, Assistant Professor of Germanic Language
and Literature, University of Missouri, Columbia, Mo.
Armstrong, Edward C., Associate Professor of French, Johns Hopkins
University, Baltimore, Md.
Armstrong, Joseph L., Professor of English, Randolph-Macon Woman's
College, Lynchburg, Va. [College Park, Va.]
Arrowsmith, R., American Book Co., New York, N. Y. [Washington
Square. ]
Ashle'man, Lorely Ada, Associate in French, School of Education, Uni-
versity of Chicago, Chicago, 111. [5830 Washington Ave., Hyde
Park Station.]
Averill, Elisabeth, Teacher of French and German, Concord High School,
Concord, N. H. [42 N. Spring Street.]
Aviragnet, Elyse"e, Professor of Romance Languages, Bucknell University,
Lewisburg, Pa.
Ayer, Charles Carlton, Professor of Romance Languages, University of
Colorado, Boulder, Col.
Babbitt, Eugene H., Instructor in German, Rutgers College, New Bruns-
wick, N. J.
Babbitt, Irving, Assistant Professor of French, Harvard University, Cam-
bridge, Mass. [6 Kirkland Road.]
PROCEEDINGS FOR 1904. Ixi
Babcock, Earle Brownell, Chicago, 111. [307 E. 56th St.]
Bacon, Edwin F., Instructor in French and German, State Normal School,
Oneonta, N. Y. [52 East St.]
Baillot, E. P., Professor of French, Northwestern University, Evanston,
111. [718 Emerson St.]
Baker, George Pierce, Assistant Professor of English, Harvard University,
Cambridge, Mass. [195 Brattle St.]
Baker, Harry Torsey, Instructor in English, Harvard University, Cam-
bridge, Mass. [61 Oxford St.]
Baker, Thomas Stockham, Professor of German, Jacob Tome Institute,
Port Deposit, Md.
Baldwin, Charles Sears, Assistant Professor of Rhetoric, Yale University,
New Haven, Conn.
Baldwin, Edward Chauncey, Assistant Professor of English Literature,
University of Illinois, Urbana, 111. [704 West Oregon St.]
Bargy, Henry, Tutor in the Romance Languages and Literatures, Columbia
University, New York, N. Y.
Barnes, Frank Coe, Adjunct Professor of Modern Languages, Union College,
Schenectady, N. Y.
Bartlett, Mrs. D. L., Baltimore, Md. [16 West Monument St.]
Bartlett, George Alonzo, Cambridge, Mass. [41 Beck Hall.]
Bassett, Ralph Emerson, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, Uni-
versity of Kansas, Lawrence, Kas.
Batchelder, John D., Fellow by Courtesy, Johns Hopkins University,
Baltimore, Md.
Batt, Max, Assistant Professor of Modern Languages, North Dakota
Agricultural College, Fargo, N. D.
Battin, Benjamin F., Professor of German, Swarthmore College, Swarth-
more, Pa.
Baur, William F., Instructor in German, University of Cincinnati, Cincin-
nati, O.
Beatley, James A., Master (German and Music), English High School,
Boston, Mass. [11 Wabon St., Roxbury, Mass.]
de Beaumont, Victor, Instructor in the Romance Languages, Williams
College, Williamstown, Mass.
Becker, Ernest Julius, Instructor in English and German, Baltimore City
College, Baltimore, Md.
Becker, Henrietta K., Associate in German, University of Chicago, Chi-
cago, 111.
Belden, Henry Marvin, Assistant Professor of English, University of
Missouri, Columbia, Mo.
Bell, Robert Mowry, Instructor in German, Clark University, Worcester,
Mass. [9 Hawthorn St.]
Bernkopf, Anna Elise, Instructor in German, Vassar College, Pough-
keepsie, N. Y.
Ixii MODEBX LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
Bernkopf, Margarete, Instructor in German, Smith College, Northampton,
Mass.
Belhune, Baron de, Louvain, Belgium. [57 rue de la Station.]
Bevier, Louis, Jr., Professor of the Greek Language and Literature,
Eutgers College, New Brunswick, N. J.
Beziat de Bordes, A., Professor of Eomance Languages, West Virginia
University, Morgantown, W. Va.
Bierwirth, Heinrich Conrad, Assistant Professor of German, Harvard Uni-
versity, Cambridge, Mass. [15 Avon St.]
Bigelow, William Pingry, Associate Professor of German and Music,
Amherst College, Amherst, Mass.
Bishop, David Horace, Professor of English, University of Mississippi,
University, Miss.
Blackburn, Francis Adelbert, Associate Professor of the English Language,
University of Chicago, Chicago, 111. [383 E. 56th St.]
Blackwell, Robert Emory, President and Professor of English, Eandolph-
Macon College, Ashland, Va.
Blau, Max F., Assistant Professor of German, Princeton University,
Princeton, N. J.
Bloombergh, A. A., Professor of Modern Languages, Lafayette College,
Easton, Pa.
Boll, Helene H., Instructor in German, Hillhouse High School, New
Haven, Conn.
Bonnotte, Ferdinand A., Professor of Modern Languages, Western Mary-
land College, Westminster, Md.
Borgerhoff, J. L., Instructor in Eomance Languages, Western Eeserve
University, Cleveland, 0. [3020 Euclid Ave.]
Both-Hendriksen, Louise, Professor of the History of Arts and Lecturer in
Literature, Adelphi College, Brooklyn, N. Y. [150 Lefferts Place.]
Bothne, Gisle C. J., Professor of Greek and Scandinavian, Norwegian
Luther College, Decorah, la.
Boucke, Ewald A., Instructor in German, University of Michigan, Ann
Arbor, Mich. [808 S. State St.]
Bourland, Benjamin Parsons, Professor of the Eomance Languages, Western
Eeserve University, Cleveland, O. [11170 Euclid Ave.]
Bowen, Benjamin Lester, Professor of Eomance Languages, Ohio State
University, Columbus, O.
Bowen, Ed win W., Professor of Latin, Eandolph-Macon College, Ashland,
Va.
Bowen, James Vance, Professor of Foreign Languages, Mississippi Agricul-
tural and Mechanical College, Agricultural College, Miss.
Boysen, Johannes Lassen, Instructor in German, Syracuse University,
Syracuse, N. Y. [112 Eaynor St.]
van Braam, P., Instructor in German, Iowa College, Grinnell, la.
PROCEEDINGS FOR 1904. Ixiii
Bradshaw, Sidney Ernest, Professor of Modern Languages, Furman Uni-
versity, Greenville, S. C.
Brandon, Edgar Ewing, Professor of the French Language and Literature,
Miami University, Oxford, O.
Brant, Hermann Carl Georg, Professor of the German Language and
Literature, Hamilton College, Clinton, N. Y.
BreMe", Charles F., Assistant Instructor in French, University of Pennsyl-
vania, Philadelphia, Pa. [3934 Pine St.]
Brickner, Edwin S., Instructor in English, College of the City of New
York, New York, N. Y.
Briggs, Fletcher, Austin Teaching Fellow in German, Harvard University,
Cambridge, Mass. [3 Ellsworth Park.]
Briggs, Thomas H. , Jr., Instructor in English, Eastern Illinois Normal
School, Charleston, 111.
Briggs, William Dinsmore, Instructor in English, Western Reserve Uni-
versity, Cleveland, O. [2662 Euclid Ave.]
Bright, James Wilson, Professor of English Philology, Johns Hopkins
University, Baltimore, Md.
Bristol, Edward N., Henry Holt & Co., New York, N. Y. [29 West
23d St.]
Bronk, Isabelle, Professor of the French Language and Literature, Swarth-
more College, Swarthmore, Pa.
Bronson, Thomas Bertrand, Head of the Modern Language Department,
Lawrenceville School, Lawrenceville, N. J.
Bronson, Walter C., Professor of English Literature, Brown University,
Providence, E. I.
Brooks, Maro Spalding, Head of Modern Language Department, Brookline
High School, Brookline, Mass. [25 Waverley St.]
Brooks, Neil C., Assistant Professor of German, University of Illinois,
Urbana, HI.
Brown, Arthur C. L., Assistant Professor of English, University of Wis-
consin, Madison, Wis. [228 Langdon St.]
Brown, Calvin S., Professor of Eomance Languages, University of Missis-
sippi, University, Miss.
Brown, Carleton F., Associate in English Philology, Bryn Mawr College,
Bryn Mawr, Pa.
Brown, Edward Miles, Professor of the English Language and Literature,
University of Cincinnati, Cincinnati, O. [The Auburn Hotel.]
Brown, Frank Clyde, Associate Professor of English, Emory College,
Oxford, Ga.
Brown, Frederic Willis, Instructor in French, Collegiate Department,
Clark University, Worcester, Mass.
Brownell, George Griffin, Professor of Eomance Languages, University of
Alabama, University, Ala.
Ixiv MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
Bruce, James Douglas, Professor of the English Language and Literature,
University of Tennessee, Knoxville, Tenn.
Brugnot, Mrs. Alice Twight, Instructor in French, Academic Department,
University School for Girls, Chicago, 111. [22 Lake Shore Drive.]
Brumbaugh, Martin Grove, Professor of Pedagogy, University of Penn-
sylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [3224 Walnut St.]
Brun, Alphonse, Instructor in French, Harvard University, Cambridge,
Mass. [39 Ellery St.]
Bruner, James Dowden, Associate Professor of Eomance Languages and
Literature, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, N. C.
Brush, Murray Peabody, Associate in Eomance Languages, Johns Hopkins
University, Baltimore, Md.
Brusie, Charles Frederick, Principal, Mt. Pleasant Academy, Ossining,N. Y.
Bryant, Frank E., Assistant Professor of English, University of Kansas,
Lawrence, Kas. [107 Oxford St., Cambridge, Mass.]
Buchanan, Milton A., University of Chicago, Chicago, 111.
Buck, Gertrude, Associate Professor of English, Vassar College, Pough-
keepsie, N. Y.
Buckingham, Mary H., Boston, Mass. [96 Chestnut St.]
Burkhart, Oscar C., Instructor in German, University of Minnesota, Min-
neapolis, Minn.
Burnet, Percy Bentley, Professor of Modern Languages, Iowa College,
Grinnell, la. [1407 Sixth Ave.]
Burnett, Arthur W., Henry Holt & Co., New York, N. Y. [29 West
23d St.]
Bush, Stephen H., Instructor in Eomance Languages, Harvard University,
Cambridge, Mass.
Cabeen, Charles William, Professor of Eomance Languages, Syracuse Uni-
versity, Syracuse, N. Y.
Callaway, Morgan, Jr., Professor of English, University of Texas, Austin,
Tex. [1104GuadalupeSt.]
Cameron, Arnold Guyot, Professor of French, Princeton University, Prince-
ton, N. J.
Campbell, Killis, Instructor in English, University of Texas, Austin, Tex.
[312 W. 10th St.]
Campion, John L., Teacher of English, Newman School, Hackensack,
N. J. [370 W. 116th St., New York, N. Y.]
Canby, Henry Seidel, Instructor in English, Sheffield Scientific School,
New Haven, Conn. [77 Elm St.]
Canfield, Arthur Graves, Professor of Eomance Languages, University of
Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [909 E. University Ave.]
Capen, Samuel Paul, Assistant Professor of Modern Languages, Collegiate
Department, Clark University, Worcester, Mass.
PROCEEDINGS FOR 1904. Ixv
Carnahan, David Hobart, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, Uni-
versity of Illinois, Champaign, 111.
Carpenter, Frederic Ives, Assistant Professor of English, University of
Chicago, Chicago, 111. [5533 Woodlawn Ave.]
Carpenter, George Rice, Professor of Rhetoric and English Composition,
Columbia University, New York, N. Y.
Carpenter, William Henry, Professor of Germanic Philology, Columbia
University, New York, N. Y.
Carr, Joseph William, Professor of English and Modern Languages, Uni-
versity of Arkansas, Fayetteville, Ark. [353 Highland Ave. ]
Carrington, Herbert D., Professor of German, University of Washington,
Seattle, Wash. [University Station. ]
Carruth, W. H., Professor of the Germanic Languages and Literatures,
University of Kansas, Lawrence, Kas.
Carson, Lucy Hamilton, Professor of English, Montana State Normal
College, Dillon, Mont.
Carson, Luella Clay, Professor of Rhetoric and American Literature, Uni-
versity of Oregon, Eugene, Ore.
Carteaux, Gustave A., Professor of the French Language, Polytechnic
Institute, Brooklyn, N. Y.
Chamberlin, Willis Arden, Professor of the German Language and Litera-
ture, Denison University, Granville, O.
Chandler, Frank Wadleigh, Professor of Literature and History, Poly-
technic Institute, Brooklyn, N. Y. [22 Orange St.]
Chapman, Henry Leland, Professor of English Literature, Bowdoin College,
Brunswick, Me.
Charles, Arthur M., Professor of German, Earlham College, Richmond,
Ind.
Chase, Frank Herbert, Professor of English Literature, Beloit College,
Beloit, Wis. [1005 Chapin St.]
Chase, George C., President and Professor of Psychology and Logic, Bates
College, Lewiston, Me.
Cheek, Samuel Robertson, Professor of Latin, Central University of
Kentucky, Danville, Ky.
Cheever, Louisa S., Instructor in English, Smith College, Northampton,
Mass. [Chapin House.]
Chenery, Winthrop Holt, Instructor in Romance Languages, Washington
University, St. Louis, Mo.
Child, Clarence Griffin, Assistant Professor of English, University of Penn-
sylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [4237 Sansom St.]
Churchill, George Bosworth, Associate Professor of English Literature,
Amherst College, Amherst, Mass.
Clark, J. Scott, Professor of the English Language, Northwestern Uni-
versity, Evanston, 111.
Ixvi MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
Clark, Thatcher, Instructor in Spanish and French, U. S. Naval Academy,
Annapolis, Md. [Hotel Maryland.]
Clark, Thomas Arkle, Professor of Rhetoric, University of Illinois, Urbana,
111.
Clarke, Charles Cameron, Jr., Assistant Professor of French, Sheffield
Scientific School, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [254
Bradley St.]
Clary, S. Willard, D. C. Heath & Co., Boston, Mass. [120 Boylston St.]
Cloran, Timothy, Upper Alton, 111.
Coar, John Firman, Professor of the German Language and Literature,
Adelphi College, Brooklyn, N. Y.
Cohn, Adolphe, Professor of the Romance Languages and Literatures,
Columbia University, New York, N. Y.
Colin, Mrs. The"rese F., Associate Professor of French, Wellesley College,
Wellesley, Mass. [Box 293, College Hall.]
Collins, George Stuart, Professor of Modern Languages and Literatures,
Polytechnic Institute, Brooklyn, N. Y.
Collitz, Hermann, Professor of Comparative Philology and German, Bryn
Mawr College, Bryn Mawr, Pa.
Colville, William T., Carbondale, Pa.
Colvin, Mrs. Mary Noyes, Dansville, N. Y.
Comfort, William Wistar, Associate Professor of Eomance Languages,
Haverford College, Haverford, Pa.
Compton, Alfred D., Tutor in English, College of the City of New York,
New York, N. Y. [40 W. 126th St.]
Conklin, Clara, Associate Professor of Eomance Languages, University of
Nebraska, Lincoln, Neb.
Cook, Albert S., Professor of the English Language and Literature, Yale
University, New Haven, Conn. [219 Bishop St.]
Cook, Mabel Priscilla, Lexington, Mass.
Cooper, Lane, Instructor in English, Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y.
[120 Oak Ave.]
Cooper, William Alpha, Assistant Professor of German, Leland Stanford
Jr. University, Palo Alto, Cal. [1111 Emerson St.]
Corwin, Robert Nelson, Professor of German, Sheffield Scientific School,
Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [247 St. Ronan St.]
Cox, John H., Professor of English Philology, West Virginia University,
Morgantown, W. Va.
Crane, Thomas Frederick, Professor of the Romance Languages and Litera-
tures, Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y.
Crawshaw, William Henry, Professor of English Literature, Colgate
University, Hamilton, N. Y.
Critchlow, Frank Linley, Instructor in Romance Languages, Princeton
University, Princeton, N. J. [156 Nassau St.]
PROCEEDINGS FOB 1904. Ixvii
Croll, Morris W., Associate Editor of Lippincott's Dictionary, Phila-
delphia, Pa. [3733 Walnut St.]
Gross, Wilbur Lucius, Professor of English, Sheffield Scientific School,
Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [306 York St.]
Crow, Charles Langley, Adjunct Professor of Modern Languages, Washing-
ton and Lee University, Lexington, Va.
Crowell, Asa Clinton, Associate Professor of Germanic Languages and
Literatures, Brown University, Providence, R. I. [345 Hope St.]
Crowne, Joseph Vincent, Instructor in English, College of the City of New
York, New York, N. Y.
Cunliffe, John William, Lecturer in English, McGill University, Montreal,
Canada.
Curdy, Albert Eugene, Instructor in French, Yale University, New Haven,
Conn. [743 Yale Station.]
Curme, George Oliver, Professor of Germanic Philology, Northwestern
University, Evanston, 111. [2237 Sherman Ave.]
Currell, William Spenser, Professor of English, Washington and Lee Uni-
versity, Lexington, Va.
Cutting, Starr Willard, Professor of German Literature, University of
Chicago, Chicago, 111. [423 Greenwood Ave.]
Damon, Lindsay Todd, Associate Professor of Rhetoric, Brown University,
Providence, R. I.
Danton, George Henry, Charlottenburg-Berlin, Germany. [Pestalozzi-
Strasse 94 rv.]
Darnall, Henry Johnston, Adjunct Professor of Modern Languages, Uni-
versity of Tennessee, Knoxville, Tenn.
Davidson, Charles, Cambridge, Mass. [16 Linnaean St.]
Davidson, Frederic J. A. , Lecturer in Romance Languages, University of
Toronto, Toronto, Canada. [22 Madison Ave.]
Davies, William Walter, Professor of the German Language, Ohio Wes-
leyan University, Delaware, O.
Davis, Charles Gideon, Instructor in German, University of Illinois,
Urbana, 111. [905 W. Green St.]
Davis, Edwin Bell, Professor of Modern Languages, Rutgers College,
New Brunswick, N. J. [145 College Ave.]
Dawson, Edgar, Professor of the English Language and Literature and
of Political Science, Delaware College, Newark, Del.
Deering, Robert Waller, Professor of Germanic Languages and Literature,
Western Reserve University, Cleveland, O. [76 Bellflower Ave.]
De Haan, Fonger, Associate Professor of Spanish, Bryn Mawr College,
Bryn Mawr, Pa.
Deister, John Louis, Professor of Latin, French, and German, Manual
Training High School, Kansas City, Mo.
Ixviii MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
De Lagneau, Lea Rachel, Instructor in Romance Languages, Lewis Institute,
Chicago, 111.
Demmon, Isaac Newton, Professor of English, University of Michigan,
Ann Arbor, Mich.
Denney, Joseph Villiers, Professor of Ehetoric and the English Language,
Ohio State University, Columbus, O.
Diekhoff, Tobias J. C., Assistant Professor of German, University of
Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [940 Greenwood Ave.]
Dike, Francis Harold, Instructor in Modern Languages, Massachusetts
Institute of Technology, Boston, Mass.
Dippold, George Theodore, Brookline, Mass. [60 Greenough St.]
Dodge, Daniel Kilham, Professor of the English Language and Literature,
University of Illinois, Champaign, 111.
Dodge, Robert Elkin Neil, Assistant Professor of English, University of
Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. [251 Langdon St.]
Doherty, David J., M. D., Chicago, 111. [582 La Salle Ave.]
Doniat, Josephine C. , Instructor in French and German, Lyons Township
High School, La Grange, 111.
Douay, Gaston, Assistant Professor of French, Washington University,
St. Louis, Mo.
Dow, Louis H., Professor of French, Dartmouth College, Hanover, N. H.
Downer, Charles A., Professor of the French Language and Literature,
College of the City of New York, New York, N. Y.
Drake, Benjamin M., Professor of English, Epworth University, Oklahoma
City, Okla.
Dunlap, Charles Graham, Professor of English Literature, University of
Kansas, Lawrence, Kas.
Durand, Walter Yale, Instructor in English, Phillips Academy, Andover,
Mass.
Eastman, Clarence Willis, Assistant Professor of German, State University
of Iowa, Iowa City, la.
Easton, Morton William, Professor of English and Comparative Philology,
University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa.
Eaton, Mrs. Abbie Fiske, Redlands, San Bernardino Co., Cal.
Edgar, Pelham, Professor of the French Language and Literature, Victoria
College, University of Toronto, Toronto, Canada.
Effinger, John Robert, Assistant Professor of French, University of Mich-
igan, Ann Arbor, Mich.
Elliott, A. Marshall, Professor of Romance Languages, Johns Hopkins
University, Baltimore, Md. [935 N. Calvert St.]
Emerson, Oliver Farrar, Professor of Rhetoric and English Philology,
Western Reserve University, Cleveland, O. [98 Wadena St., E.
Cleveland, O.]
PROCEEDINGS FOR 1904.
Eno, Arthur Llewellyn, Instructor in English, University of Illinois,
Urbana, 111.
Epes, John D., Professor of English, Washington College, Chestertown, Md.
Erskine, John, Instructor in English, Amherat College, Amheret, Mass.
Evans, M. Blakemore, Instructor in German, University of Wisconsin,
Madison, Wis.
Ewart, Frank C., Professor of Bomance Languages, Colgate University,
Hamilton, N. Y.
Fairchild, J. R., American Book Co., New York, N. Y. [Washington
Square.]
Farley, Frank Edgar, Associate Professor of English, Simmons College,
Boston, Mass.
Farnsworth, William Oliver, Instructor in French, Yale University, New
Haven, Conn.
Farr, Hollon A., Instructor in German, Yale University, New Haven, Conn.
[170 Farnam Hall.]
Farrand, Wilson, Head Master, Newark Academy, Newark, N. J.
Farrar, Thomas James, Professor of Modern Languages, Washington and
Lee University, Lexington, Va.
Faurot, Albert Alfred, Head of the Department of Modem Languages,
Racine College, Racine, Wis.
Faust, Albert Bernhardt, Assistant Professor of German, Cornell Uni-
versity, Ithaca, N. Y. [406 University Ave.]
Fay, Charles Ernest, Professor of Modern Languages, Tufts College, Tufts
College, Mass.
Ferrell, Chiles Clifton, Professor of Modern Languages, University of
Mississippi, University, Miss.
Fen-en, Harry M., Head Teacher of German, High School, Allegheny, Pa.
Few, William Preston, Professor of English, Trinity College, Durham,
N. C.
Fielder, Edwin W., Silver, Burdett & Co., New York, N. Y. [85 Fifth
Ave.]
Fife, Robert H., Jr., Professor of German, Wesleyan University, Middle-
town, Conn. [240 College St.]
Files, George Taylor, Professor of German, Bowdoin College, Brunswick,
Me.
Fitz-Gerald, John Driscoll, 2d, Tutor in the Romance Languages and
Literatures, Columbia University, New York, N. Y.
Fitz-Hugh, Thomas, Professor of Latin, University of Virginia, Charlottes-
ville, Va.
Fletcher, Jefferson Butler, Professor of Comparative Literature, Columbia
University, New York, N. Y.
Fletcher, Robert Huntington, Hanover, N. H.
Ixx MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
Flom, George T., Professor of Scandinavian Languages and Literatures,
State University of Iowa, Iowa City, la.
Florer, Warren Washburn, Instructor in German, University of Michigan,
Ann Arbor, Mich. [1108 Prospect St.]
Ford, J. D. M. , Assistant Professor of Komance Languages, Harvard Uni-
versity, Cambridge, Mass. [40 Avon Hill St. ]
Ford, R. Clyde, Professor of Modern Languages, State Normal College,
Ypsilanti, Mich.
Fortier, Alce*e, Professor of Romance Languages, Tulane University of
Louisiana, New Orleans, La. [1241 Esplanade Ave.]
Fossler, Lawrence, Professor of Germanic Languages, University of Ne-
braska, Lincoln, Neb.
Foster, Irving Lysander, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages,
Pennsylvania State College, State College, Pa.
Foulet, Lucien, Associate Professor of French, Bryn Mawr College, Bryn
Mawr, Pa.
Fox, Charles Shattuck, North Cambridge, Mass. [24 Harris St.]
Francke, Kuno, Professor of German Literature and Curator of the
Germanic Museum, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [2
Berkeley Place] .
Fraser, M. Emma N., Professor of Romance Languages, Elmira College,
Elmira, N. Y.
Fraser, W. H., Professor of Italian and Spanish, University of Toronto,
Toronto, Canada.
Froelicher, Hans, Professor of German, Woman's College of Baltimore,
Baltimore, Md.
Fruit, John Phelps, Professor of the English Language and Literature,
William Jewell College, Liberty, Mo.
Fuller, Harold DeW., Instructor in English, Harvard University, Cam-
bridge, Mass. [16 Claverly Hall.]
Fuller, Paul, New York, N. Y. [P. O. Box 2559.]
Fulton, Edward, Associate Professor of Rhetoric, University of Illinois,
Urbana, El.
Furst, Clyde B., Secretary of Teachers' College, Columbia University, New
York, N. Y.
Galloo, Eugenie, Professor of Romance Languages and Literatures, Uni-
versity of Kansas, Lawrence, Kas.
Galpin, Stanley L. , Instructor in the Romance Languages, Amherst College,
Amherst, Mass.
Gardiner, John Hays, Associate Professor of English, Harvard University,
Cambridge, Mass. [18 Grays Hall.]
Garnett, James M., Baltimore, Md. [1316 Bolton St.]
Garrett, Alfred Cope, Philadelphia, Pa. [Logan Station.]
PROCEEDINGS FOR 1904. Ixxi
Gauss, Christian Frederick, Assistant Professor of Modern Languages,
Lehigh University, South Bethlehem, Pa. [428 Cherokee St.]
Gaw, Mrs. Kalph H., Topeka, Kas. [1321 Filmore St.]
Gay, Lucy M., Assistant Professor of French, University of Wisconsin,
Madison, Wis. [216 N. Pinckney St.]
Gayley, Charles Mills, Professor of the English Language and Literature,
University of California, Berkeley, Cal. [2403 Piedmont Ave.]
Geddes, James, Jr. , Professor of Eomance Languages, Boston University,
Boston, Mass.
Gerig, John L., Instructor in Romance Languages, Williams College,
Williamstown, Mass.
Gerould, Gordon Hall, Preceptor of English, Princeton University, Prince-
ton, N. J.
Gillett, William Kendall, Professor of French and Spanish, New York
University, University Heights, New York, N. Y.
Glen, Irving M., Professor of the English Language and Early English
Literature, University of Oregon, Eugene, Ore. [254 E. 9th St.]
Goebel, Julius, Lecturer in Germanic Philology and Literature, Harvard
University, Cambridge, Mass.
Goettsch, Charles, Assistant in German, University of Chicago, Chicago,
111.
Gould, William Elford, Fellow by Courtesy, Johns Hopkins University,
Baltimore, Md.
Grandgent, Charles Hall, Professor of Romance Languages, Harvard Uni-
versity, Cambridge, Mass. [107 Walker St.]
Gray, Charles Henry, Assistant Professor of English, University of Kansas,
Lawrence, Kas. [1311 Tennessee St.]
Greene, Herbert Eveleth, Collegiate Professor of English, Johns Hopkins
University, Baltimore, Md. [1019 St. Paul St.]
Greenlaw, Edwin Almiron, Professor of English, Adelphi College, Brook-
lyn, N. Y.
Greenough, Chester Noyes, Instructor in English, Harvard University,
Cambridge, Mass. [7 Thayer Hall.]
Gregor, Leigh R., Lecturer on Modern Languages, McGill University,
Montreal, Canada. [139 Baile St.]
Griebsch, Max, Director, National German-American Teachers' Seminary,
558-568 Broadway, Milwaukee, Wis.
Griffin, James O., Professor of German, Leland Stanford Jr. University,
Stanford University, Cal.
Griffin, Nathaniel Edward, Princeton, N. J. [14 N. Dod Hall.]
Grimm, Karl Josef, Professor of Modern Languages, Ursinus College,
Collegeville, Pa.
Gronow, Hans Ernst, Chicago, 111. [5717 Madison Ave.]
Grossman, Edward A., New York, N. Y. [44 W. 83th St.]
Ixxii MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
Gruener, Gustav, Professor of German, Yale University, New Haven,
Conn. [Box 276, Yale Station.]
Grumbine, Harvey Carson, Professor of the English Language and Litera-
ture, University of Wooster, Wooster, O.
Grummann, Paul H., Associate Professor of Germanic Languages, Uni-
versity of Nebraska, Lincoln, Neb. [1930 Washington St.]
Guild, Thacher Howland, Instructor in Ehetoric, University of Illinois,
Urbana, 111. [924 W. Illinois St.]
Guite"ras, Calixto, Professor of Spanish, Girard College and Drexel Insti-
tute, Philadelphia, Pa.
Gummere, Francis B., Professor of English, Haverford College, Haver-
ford, Pa.
Gutknecht, Louise L., Teacher of German, South Chicago High School,
Chicago, 111. [7700 Bond Ave., Windsor Park, Chicago.]
Haertel, Martin H., Assistant in German, University of Wisconsin, Madi-
son, Wis. [812 W. Johnson St.]
Hagen, S. N., Associate Editor, Worcester's Dictionary, Philadelphia, Pa.
[616 Bourse Building.]
Hale, Edward E., Jr., Professor of English, Union College, Schenectady,
N. Y.
Hall, John Lesslie, Professor of the English Language and Literature and
of General History, College of William and Mary, Williamsburg,
Va.
Ham, Boscoe James, Assistant Professor of Modern Languages, Bowdoin
College, Brunswick, Me.
Hamill, Alfred E., Chicago, 111. [2637 Prairie Ave.]
Hamilton, George L., Instructor in French, University of Michigan, Ann
Arbor, Mich. [538 Church St.]
Hamilton, Theodore Ely, Instructor in Romance Languages, Univer-
sity of Illinois, Urbana, 111. [1001 S. Wright St., Champaign, 111.]
Hammond, Eleanor Prescott, Chicago, 111. [360 E. 57 St., Hyde Park.]
Handschin, Charles Hart, Professor of German, Miami University,
Oxford, O.
Haney, John Louis, Assistant Professor of English and History, Central
High School, Philadelphia, Pa.
Hanner, James Park, Jr., Professor of Modem Languages, Emory College,
Oxford, Ga.
Hansche, Maude Bingham, Teacher of German, Commercial High School
for Girls, Broad and Green Sts., Philadelphia, Pa.
Hanscom, Elizabeth Deering, Associate Professor of English Literature,
Smith College, Northampton, Mass. [17 Henshaw Ave.]
Hardy, Ashley Kingsley, Assistant Professor of German and Instructor in
Old English, Dartmouth College, Hanover, N. H.
PKOCEEDINGS FOB 1904. Ixxiii
Hare, James Alexander, Instructor in Modern Languages, Massachusetts
Institute of Technology, Boston, Mass.
Hargrove, Henry Lee, Professor of English, Baylor University, Waco,
Texas. [1305 S. 8th St.]
Harper, George McLean, Professor of English, Princeton University,
Princeton, N. J.
Harris, Charles, Professor of German, Western Reserve University, Cleve-
land, O.
Harris, Launcelot Minor, Professor of English, College of Charleston,
Charleston, S. C.
Harris, Martha Anstice, Professor of the English Language and Litera-
ture, Elmira College, Elmira, N. Y.
Harrison, James Albert, Professor of Teutonic Languages, University of
Virginia, Charlottesville, Va.
Harrison, John Smith, Instructor in English, Kenyon College, Gam-
bier, O.
Harrison, Thomas Perrin, Professor of English, Davidson College, David-
son, N. C.
Hart, Charles Edward, Professor of Ethics and Evidences of Christianity,
Rutgers College, New Brunswick, N. J.
Hart, James Morgan, Professor of the English Language and Literature,
Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y.
Hart, Walter Morris, Assistant Professor of English, University of Cali-
fornia, Berkeley, Cal. [2255 Piedmont Ave.]
Hatfield, James Taft, Professor of the German Language and Literature,
Northwestern University, Evanston, 111.
Hathaway, Charles Montgomery, Jr., Instructor in English, U. S. Naval
Academy, Annapolis, Md.
Hauhart, William Frederic, Instructor in German, University of Illinois,
Urbana, 111. [905 W. Green St.]
Hausknecht, Emil, Direktor, Reform-Realgymnasium, Kiel, Prussia,
Germany.
Heller, Otto, Professor of the German Language and Literature, Washing-
ton University, St. Louis, Mo.
Hempl, George, Professor of English Philology and General Linguistics,
University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [1027 E. University
Ave.]
Henneman, John Bell, Professor of English, University of the South,
Sewanee, Tenn.
Herford, Charles Harold, Professor in the University of Manchester,
Manchester, England.
Herrick, Asbury Haven, Cambridge, Mass. [61 Ellery St.]
Hervey, Wm. Addison, Adjunct Professor of the Germanic Languages and
Literatures, Columbia University, New York, N. Y.
Ixxiv MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
Heuser, Frederick W. J., Tutor in the Germanic Languages and Lit-
eratures, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. [154 Hewes St.,
Brooklyn, N. Y.]
Hewett, Waterman T., Professor of the German Language and Literature,
Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y.
Heyd, Jacob Wilhelm, Instructor in German and French, State Normal
School, Kirkville, Mo.
Hibbard, Eachel, Teacher of German and English, High School, Marquette,
Mich. [325 High St.]
Hills, Elijah Clarence, Professor of Romance Languages and Literatures,
Colorado College, Colorado Springs, Col. [1111 Wood Ave.]
Hinsdale, Ellen C., Professor of the German Language and Literature,
Mount Holyoke College, South Hadley, Mass.
Hobigand, Jules Adolphe, Ballou and Hobigand Preparatory School,
Boston, Mass. [1022 Boylston St.]
Hochdorfer, Karl Friedrich Eichard, Professor of Modern Languages,
Wittenberg College, Springfield, O. [62 E. Ward St.]
Hodder, Mrs. Mary Gwinn, New York, N. Y. [40 W. 45th St.]
Hodell, Charles Wesley, Professor of the English Language and Litera-
ture, Woman's College of Baltimore, Baltimore, Md.
Hohlfeld, A. E., Professor of German, University of Wisconsin, Madison,
Wis. [145 W. Gilman St.]
Holbrook, Eichard Thayer, Tutor in the Eomance Languages, Columbia
University, New York, N. Y.
Holzwarth, Franklin James, Professor of the Germanic Languages and
Literatures, Syracuse University, Syracuse, N. Y. [301 Waverly
Ave.]
Horning, L. E., Professor of German and Old English, Victoria College,
University of Toronto, Toronto, Canada.
Hoskins, John Preston, Assistant Professor of German, Princeton Univer-
sity, Princeton, N. J. [22 Bank St.]
Hospes, Mrs. Cecilia Lizzette, Teacher of German, McKinley High School,
St. Louis, Mo. [3001 Lafayette Ave.]
House, Ralph Emerson, Professor of Modern Languages, University of
Utah, Salt Lake City, Utah.
Howard, Albert A., Professor of Latin, Harvard University, Cambridge,
Mass. [12 Walker St.]
Howard, William Guild, Instructor in German, Harvard University, Cam-
bridge, Mass. [20 Holworthy Hall.]
Howe, George M., Instructor in German, Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y.
[57 Cascadilla Place].
Howe, Malvina A., Associate Principal, Miss Howe and Miss Marot's
School, Dayton, O. [513 W. 1st St.]
PROCEEDINGS FOR 1904.
Howe, Thomas Carr, Professor of Germanic Languages, Butler College,
University of Indianapolis, Indianapolis, Ind. [48 S. Audubon
Road, Irvington.]
Howe, Will David, Professor of the English Language and Literature,
Butler College, University of Indianapolis, Indianapolis, Ind. [377
Audubon Eoad, Irvington.]
Hoyt, Prentiss Cheney, Assistant Professor of English, Clark College,
Worcester, Mass. [940 Main St.]
Hubbard, Rev. Charles Francis, Minneapolis, Minn. [527 Fifth Ave.,
S. E.]
Hubbard, Frank G., Professor of the English Language, University of
Wisconsin, Madison, Wis.
Hudnall, Richard Henry, Professor of English, History, and Spanish,
Virginia Agricultural and Mechanical College, Blacksburg, Va.
Hulme, William Henry, Professor of English, Western Reserve University,
Cleveland, O. [48 Mayfield St.]
Hume, Thomas, Professor of English Literature, University of North
Carolina, Chapel Hill, N. C.
Hunt, Theodore Whitefield, Professor of the English Language and Litera-
ture, Princeton University, Princeton, N. J.
Hurlbut, Byron Satterlee, Assistant Professor of English, Harvard Univer-
sity, Cambridge, Mass. [32 Quincy St.]
Hyde, James H., Federation de 1' Alliance Francaise, New York, N. Y.
[120 Broadway.]
Ibbotson, Joseph Darling, Jr., Professor of English Literature and Anglo-
Saxon, Hamilton College, Clinton, N. Y.
Ilgen, Ernest, Assistant Professor of German, College of the City of New
York, New York, N. Y.
Jack, Albert E., Professor of English, Lake Forest University, Lake
Forest, 111.
von Jagemann, H. C. G., Professor of Germanic Philology, Harvard Uni-
versity, Cambridge, Mass. [113 Walker St.]
James, Arthur W., Professor of the German Language and Literature,
Miami University, Oxford, O.
Jenkins, T. Atkinson, Associate Professor of French Philology, University
of Chicago, Chicago, 111. [488 E. 54th Place.]
Jessen, Karl D., Associate in German Literature, Bryn Mawr College,
Bryn Mawr, Pa.
Jodocius, Albert, Delancey School, Philadelphia, Pa. [1420 Pine St.]
Johnson, Henry, Professor of Modern Languages, Bowdoin Callege, Bruns-
wick, Me.
Ixxvi MODEEN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
Johnston, Oliver M., Associate Professor of Komanic Languages, Leland
Stanford Jr. University, Stanford University, Cal.
Jonas, J. B. E., Assistant Professor of German, Brown University, Provi-
dence, E. I.
Jones, Everett Starr, Instructor in Modern Languages, Jacob Tome Insti-
tute, Port Deposit, Md.
Jones, Harrie Stuart Vedder, Assistant in English, Harvard University,
Cambridge, Mass. [Ill Hammond St.]
Jones, Jessie Louise, Assistant Professor of German, Lewis Institute, Chi-
cago, 111.
Jones, Kichard, Professor of English Literature, Vanderbilt University,
Nashville, Tenn.
Jordan, Daniel, Instructor in the Romance Languages and Literatures,
Columbia University, New York, N. Y.
Jordan, Mary Augusta, Professor of English, Smith College, Northampton,
Mass. [Hatfield House.]
Josselyn, Freeman M., Jr., Professor of Pvomance Languages, Boston Uni-
versity, Boston, Mass.
Joynes, Edward S., Professor of Modern Languages, South Carolina College,
Columbia, S. C.
Kagan, Josiah M., Instructor in German, Roxbury High School, Roxbury,
Mass. [19 Trowbridge St., Cambridge, Mass.]
Karsten, Gustaf E., Acting Professor of German, Northwestern University,
Evanston, 111.
Keidel, George Charles, Associate in Romance Languages, Johns Hopkins
University, Baltimore, Md.
Kent, Charles W., Professor of English Literature, University of Virginia,
Charlottesville, Va.
Keppler, Emil A. C., Instructor in German, College of the City of New
York, New York, N. Y. [220 W. 107th St.]
Kern, Paul Oskar, Assistant Professor of Germanic Philology, University
of Chicago, Chicago, 111.
Kerr, William Alexander Robb, Professor of Romance Languages, Adelphi
College, Brooklyn, N. Y.
Kinard, James Pinckney, Professor of the English Language and Litera-
ture, Winthrop College, Rock Hill, S. C.
Kind, John Louis, Instructor in German, University of Wisconsin, Madi-
son, Wis.
King, Robert Augustus, Professor of French and German, Wabash College,
Crawfordsville, Ind.
Kip, Herbert Z., Adjunct Professor of German, Vanderbilt University,
Nashville, Tenn.
PROCEEDINGS FOR 1904. Ixxvii
Kirchner, Elida C., Instnictor in German, Central High School, St. Louis,
Mo. [1211 N. Grand Ave.]
Kittredge, George Lyman, Professor of English, Harvard University,
Cambridge, Mass. [8 Hilliard St.]
Klaeber, Frederick, Professor of English Philology, University of Minne-
sota, Minneapolis, Minn,
von Klenze, Camillo, Associate Professor of German Literature, University
of Chicago, Chicago, 111.
Klopsch, O. P., Head Teacher of German, PeoriaHigh School, Peoria, 111.
[215 St. James St.]
Knoepfler, J. B., Professor of German, Iowa State Normal School, Cedar
Falls, la.
Koren, William, Instructor in French, Princeton University, Princeton,
N. J.
Krapp, George Philip, Instructor in English, Columbia University, New
York, N. Y.
Kroeh, Charles F., Professor of Languages, Stevens Institute of Technology,
Hoboken, N. J.
Krowl, Harry C., Instructor in English, College of the City of New York,
New York, N. Y.
Kueffner, Louise Mallinskrodt, Professor of German, Lombard College,
Galesburg, 111.
Kuersteiner, Albert Frederick, Professor of Komance Languages, Indiana
University, Bloomington, Ind.
Kuhns, Oscar, Professor of Eomance Languages, Wesleyan University,
Middletown, Conn.
Kullmer, Charles Julius, Instructor in German, Syracuse University,
Syracuse, N. Y.
Kurrelmeyer, William, Instructor in German, Johns Hopkins University,
Baltimore, Md.
Lamaze, Edouard, Dean of the Languages Department, International
Correspondence Schools, Scranton, Pa.
Lambert, Marcus Bachman, Teacher of German, Boys' High School,
Brooklyn, N. Y. [252 Madison St.]
Lang, Henry B., Professor of Bomance Philology, Yale University, New
Haven, Conn. [Box 244, Yale Station.]
Lange, Alexis Frederick, Professor of English and Scandinavian Philology,
University of California, Berkeley, Cal. [2629 Haste St.]
Langley, Ernest F., Assistant Professor of Bomance Languages, Dartmouth
College, Hanover, N. H.
Lathrop, Adele, Instructor, Horace Mann School, W. 120th St., New York,
N. Y.
Law, Bobert A., Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [30 Irving St.]
Ixxviii MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
Lawrence, William Witherle, Associate Professor of English Literature,
Columbia University, New York, N. Y.
Learned, Marion Dexter, Professor of the Germanic Languages and Litera-
tures, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa.
Le Daum, Henry, Instructor in French, State University of Iowa, Iowa
City, la.
Le Due, Alma de L., Assistant Professor of French and Spanish, Univer-
sity of Kansas, Lawrence, Kas.
Lehmann, Gottfried, Assistant in German, University of Wisconsin, Madi-
son, Wis. [821 State St.]
Leonard, Arthur Newton, Professor of German, Bates College, Lewiston, Me.
Leonard, Jonathan, Sub-Master (French), English High School, Somer-
ville, Mass. [Sandwich, Mass.]
Lessing, Otto Eduard, Marquartstein, Ober-Bayern, Germany.
Levi, Moritz, Junior Professor of French, University of Michigan, Ann
Arbor, Mich. [1029 Vaughn St.]
Lewis, Charlton M., Professor of English Literature, Yale University,
New Haven, Conn.
Lewis, Edwin Herbert, Professor of English, Lewis Institute, Chicago, 111.
Lewis, Edwin Seelye, Professor of Romance Languages, Princeton Uni-
versity, Princeton, N. J.
Lewis, Mary Elizabeth, Adviser of Women, University of Missouri, Colum-
bia, Mo. [Bead Hall.]
• Lewis, Orlando Faulkland, Professor of Modern Languages, University of
Maine, Orono, Me.
Liberma, Marco F., Assistant Professor of Komance Languages, University
of Cincinnati, Cincinnati, O.
Lieder, Frederick William Charles, Austin Teaching Fellow in German,
Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [39 Holyoke House.]
Lincoln, George, Instructor in Bomance Languages, Harvard University,
Cambridge, Mass.
Logeman, Henry, Professor of English Philology, University of Ghent,
Ghent, Belgium. [343 boulevard des Hospices.]
Loiseaux, Louis Auguste, Adjunct Professor of the Bomance Languages
and Literatures, Columbia University, New York, N. Y.
Lombard, Mary Joy, Instructor in French, Michigan State Normal College,
Ypsilanti, Mich. [130 College Place.]
Longden, Henry B., Professor of the German Language and Literature,
De Pauw University, Greencastle, Ind.
Lowes, John Livingston, Professor of English, Swarthmore College, Swarth-
more, Pa.
Lutz, Frederick, Professor of Modern Languages and Acting Professor of
Latin, Albion College, Albion, Mich.
Lyman, Albert Benedict, M. D., Baltimore, Md. [504 Sharp St.]
PROCEEDINGS FOR 1904.
Macarthur, John R., Professor of English, Agricultural and Mechanical
College, Mesilla Park, New Mex.
McBryde, John McLaren, Jr., Professor of English, Sweet Briar Institute,
Amherst, Va.
MacClintock, William D., Professor of English, University of Chicago,
Chicago, 111. [5629 Lexington Ave.]
McClumpha, Charles Flint, Professor of the English Language and Litera-
ture, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn.
Mcllwaine, Henry Kead, Professor of English and History, Hampden-
Sidney College, Hampden-Sidney, Va.
Macine, John, Professor of French and Spanish, University of North
Dakota, University, N. D.
McKenzie, Kenneth, Assistant Professor of Italian, Yale University, New
Haven, Conn.
McKibben, George F., Professor of Romance Languages, Denison Uni-
versity, Granville, O.
McKnight, George Harley, Assistant Professor of Ehetoricand the English
Language, Ohio State University, Columbus, O.
McLean, Charlotte F., Teacher of Modern Languages, Linden Hall, Lititz,
Lancaster Co. , Pa.
MacLean, George Edwin, President, State University of Iowa, Iowa City, la.
McLouth, Lawrence A., Professor of Germanic Languages and Literatures,
New York University, University Heights, New York, N. Y.
MacMechan, Archibald, Professor of the English Language and Literature,
Dalhousie College, Halifax, N. S.
Magee, Charles Moore, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa.
[Conshohocken, Pa.]
Magill, Edward Hicks, New York, N. Y. [The Gardner, 128 W. 43d St.]
Manly, John Matthews, Professor and Head of the Department of English,
University of Chicago, Chicago, 111.
Manthey-Zorn, Otto, Instructor in German, Western Reserve University,
Cleveland, O. [508 Sterling Ave.]
March, Francis Andrew, Professor of the English Language and of Com-
parative Philology, Lafayette College, Easton, Pa.
Marcou, Philippe Belknap, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages,
Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [42 Garden St.]
Marden, Charles Carroll, Professor of Spanish, Johns Hopkins Univer-
sity, Baltimore, Md.
Ma rin La Mesle"e, A., Civilian Instructor in French, U. S. Military Aca-
demy, West Point, N. Y.
Marsh, Arthur Richmond, Cambridge, Mass. [53 Garden St.]
Marsh, George Linnaeus, Instructor in English, University of Chicago,
Chicago, 111. [Box 2, Faculty Exchange.]
IxXX MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
Martin, Percy Alvin, Professor of French, Whittier College, Whittier,
Cal. [737 Rampart St., Los Angeles, Cal.]
Mather, Frank Jewett, Jr., The Evening Post, New York, N. Y.
Matthews, Brander, Professor of Dramatic Literature, Columbia University,
New York, N. Y. [681 West End Ave.]
Matzke, John E., Professor of Romanic 'Languages, Leland Stanford Jr.
University, Stanford University, Cal.
Maynadier, Gustavus H., Instructor in English, Harvard University, Cam-
bridge, Mass. [49 Hawthorn St.]
Mead, William Edward, Professor of the English Language, Wesleyan
University, Middletown, Conn.
Meisnest, Frederick William, Instructor in German, University of Wiscon-
sin, Madison, Wis. [302 Murray St.]
Mensel, Ernst Heinrich, Professor of Germanic Languages and Literatures,
Smith College, Northampton, Mass.
Meyer, Edward Stockton, Associate Professor of German, Western Reserve
University, Cleveland, O. [94 Glenpark Place.]
Milhau, Marie-Louise, Lecturer in Modern Languages, Royal Victoria
College, McGill University, Montreal, Canada.
Miller, Daniel Thomas, Professor of Languages, Brigham Young College,
Logan, Utah.
Mims, Edwin, Professor of English Literature, Trinity College, Durham,
N. C.
Moore, Alfred Austin, Instructor in Romance Languages, Cornell Univer-
sity, Ithaca, N. Y.
Moore, Hamilton Byron, Head of the Department of English, Manual
Training High School, Indianapolis, Ind. [2223 N. Delaware St.J
Moore, Robert Webber, Professor of German, Colgate University, Hamilton,
N. Y.
Morley, Sylvanus Griswold, Instructor in Romance Languages, Harvard
University, Cambridge, Mass.
Morrill, Clarence B., Instructor in English, University of Michigan, Ann
Arbor, Mich.
Morrill, Georgiana Lea, Instructor in English, University of Wisconsin,
Madison, Wis. [251 Langdon St.]
Morris, Edgar Coit, Professor of English, Syracuse University, Syracuse,
N. Y. [737 S. Crouse Ave.]
Morris, John, Professor of Germanic Languages, University of Georgia,
Athens, Ga.
Morton, Asa Henry, Professor of Romance Languages, Williams College,
Williamstown, Mass.
Morton, Edward P., Assistant ProfeJfcor of English, Indiana University,
Bloomington, Ind.
PROCEEDINGS FOR 1904. Ixxxi
Mott, Lewis F., Professor of the English Language and Literature, College
of the City of New York, New York, N. Y.
Muenter, Erich, Instructor in German, Harvard University, Cambridge,
Mass. [63 Oxford St.]
Mulfinger, George A., Teacher of German, South Division High School,
Chicago, 111. [112 Seeley Ave.]
Nash, Bennett H., Boston, Mass. [252 Beacon St.]
Neff, Theodore Lee, Instructor in French, University of Chicago, Chicago,
m.
Neilson, William Allan, Adjunct Professor of English, Columbia Univer-
sity, New York, N. Y.
Nelson, Clara Albertine, Professor of French, Ohio Wesleyan University,
Delaware, O.
Newcomer, Alphonso Gerald, Associate Professor of English Literature,
Leland Stanford Jr. University, Stanford University, Cal.
Newcomer, Charles Berry, Instructor in Greek and Latin, University of
Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [1227 Washtenaw Ave.]
Newell, William Wells, Editor of The Journal of American Folklore, 54
Garden St., Cambridge, Mass.
Newton, Walter Russell, Instructor in German, Phillips Academy, Andover,
Mass.
Nichols, Edwin Bryant, Professor of Romance Languages, Kenyon Col-
lege, Gambier, O.
Nitze, William Albert, Associate Professor of Romance Languages, Amherst
College, Amherst, Mass.
Noble, Charles, Professor of the English Language and Rhetoric, Iowa
College, Grinnell, la. [1110 West St.]
von Noe", Adolf Carl, Instructor in German, University of Chicago, Chicago,
ni.
Nollen, John S., Professor of German, Indiana University, Bloomington,
Ind.
Norris, Clarence Elnathan, Instructor in German, Brown University,
Providence, R. I.
Northup, Clark S. , Assistant Professor of the English Language and Liter-
ture, Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y. [107 College Place.]
Ogden, Philip, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md.
d'Oleire, E., Trubner*s Buchhandlung, Miinsterplatz 9, Strassburg i. E.,
Germany.
Oliver, Thomas Edward, Professor of Romanic Languages, University of
Illinois, Urbana, 111.
Olmsted, Everett Ward, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, Cornell
University, Ithaca, N. Y. [730 University Ave.]
Ixxxii MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
Opdycke, Leonard Eckstein, New York, N. Y. [117 E. 69th St.]
Osgood, Charles Grosvenor, Jr., Preceptor in English, Princeton Uni-
versity, Princeton, N. J. [39 University PI.]
Osthaus, Carl W. F., Associate Professor of German, Indiana University,
Bloomington, Indl
Ott, John Henry, Professor of the English Language and Literature,
College of the Northwestern University, Watertown, Wis.
Owen, Edward T. , Professor of the French Language and Literature, Uni-
versity of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis.
Padelford, Frederick Morgan, Professor of the English Language and
Literature, University of Washington, Seattle, Wash. [University
Station. ]
Page, Curtis Hidden, Lecturer in the Romance Languages and Literatures,
Columbia University, New York, N. Y.
Palmer, Arthur Hubbell, Professor of the German Language and Litera-
ture, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [251 Lawrence St.]
Palmer, Philip M., Instructor in German, Lehigh University, So. Bethle-
hem, Pa. [34 N. New St.]
Pancoast, Henry Spackman, Teacher of English Literature, Springside
School, Chestnut Hill, Philadelphia, Pa. [267 E. Johnson St.,
Germantown, Pa.]
Paton, Lucy Allen, London, England [care of J. S. Morgan & Co.].
Pearson, Calvin Wasson, Harwood Professor of the German Language and
Literature, Beloit College, Beloit, Wis.
Peck, Mary Gray, Instructor in English, University of Minnesota, Minne-
apolis, Minn.
Peet, Mrs. Julia Dumke, Instructor in German, Lewis Institute, Chicago,
111.
Pellissier, Adeline, Instructor in French, Smith College, Northampton,
Mass. [32 Crescent St.]
Penn, Henry C. , Professor of English, Washington University, St. Louis,
Mo.
Penniman, Josiah Harmar, Professor of English Literature, University of
Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa.
Perrin, Ernest Noel, Instructor in English, College of the City of New
York, New York, N. Y.
Perrin, Marshall Livingston, Professor of Germanic Languages, Boston
University, Boston, Mass.
Petersen, Kate O., Brooklyn, N. Y. [91 Eighth Ave.]
Phelps, William Lyon, Professor of English Literature, Yale University,
New Haven, Conn. [Yale Station.]
Pietsch, Karl, Associate Professor of Romance Philology, University of
Chicago, Chicago, 111.
PROCEEDINGS FOR 1904. Ixxxiii
Plimpton, George A., Ginn & Co., New York, N. Y. [70 Fifth Ave.]
Poland, Herbert T., Roxbury, Mass. [73 Crawford St.]
Poll, Max, Professor of Germanic Languages, University of Cincinnati,
Cincinnati, O. [230 McCormick Place. Mt. Auburn, Cincinnati.]
Pope, Paul Russell, Instructor in German, Cornell University, Ithaca,
N. Y. [518 Stewart Ave.]
Potter, Albert K., Associate Professor of the English Language, Brown
University, Providence, R. I. [220 Waterman St.]
Potter, Murray A., Instructor in Romance Languages, Harvard University,
Cambridge, Mass. [191 Commonwealth Ave., Boston, Mass.]
Prettyman, Cornelius William, Professor of the German Language and
Literature, Dickinson College, Carlisle, Pa.
Priest, George M., Instructor in German, Princeton University, Princeton,
N. J.
Primer, Sylvester, Professor of Germanic Languages, University of Texas,
Austin, Tex. [2709 Rio Grande St.]
Prince, John Dyneley, Professor of Semitic Languages, Columbia Univ-
vereity, New York, N. Y. [Sterlington, Rockland Co., N. Y.]
Prokosch, Edward, Instructor in German, University of Chicago, Chicago,
111.
Pugh, Anne L., Wells College, Aurora, N. Y.
Putnam, Edward Kirby, Stanford University, Cal.
Putzker, Albin, Professor of German Literature, University of California,
Berkeley, Cal.
Quinn, Arthur Hobson, Assistant Professor of English, University of
Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa.
Raggio, Andrew Paul, Assistant in French and Spanish, Central High
School, St. Louis, Mo. [3952Delmar Boulevard.]
Rambeau, A. , Director of Foreign Language Instruction, Manual Training
High School, Kansas City, Mo. [1302 Troost Ave.]
Ramsey, Marathon Montrose, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore,
Md.
Rankin, James Walter, Instructor in English, Simmons College, Boston,
Mass. [14 Sumner St., Cambridge, Mass.)
Ransmeier, John C., Professor of German, Trinity College, Durham,
N. C.
Ravenel, Mrs. Florence Leftwich, Ravenscroft, Asheville, N. C.
Read, William Alexander, Professor of English, Louisiana State Univ-
versity, Baton Rouge, La.
Reed, Edward Bliss, Assistant Professor of English Literature, Yale Uni-
versity, New Haven, Conn. [Yale Station.]
Reeves, Charles Francis, Seattle, Wash. [University Station.]
MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
Keeves, William Peters, Professor of the English Language and Literature,
Kenyon College, Gambier, O.
Reinecke, Charlotte, Instructor in German, Vassar College, Poughkeepsie,
N. Y.
Remy, Arthur Frank Joseph, Instructor in the Germanic Languages and
Literatures, Columbia University, New York, N. Y.
Rennert, Hugo Albert, Professor of Romanic Languages and Literatures,
University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [4232 Chestnut St. ]
Eeuther, Frieda, Instructor in German, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass.
[Ridgeway, Wellesley.]
Eeynolds, Minna Davis, Instructor in English, Miss Russell's School, 1205
N. Charles St., Baltimore, Md.
Ehoades, Lewis A., Professor of the Germanic Languages and Literatures,
Ohio State University, Columbus, O.
Kice, Carl Cosmo, Lincoln, Neb. [1201 Belmont Ave.]
Richardson, Henry B. , Professor of the German Language and Literature,
Amherst College, Amherst, Mass.
Eiemer, Guido Carl Leo, Professor of Modern Languages, Bucknell Uni-
versity, Lewisburg, Pa.
Robertson, Luanna, Dean of Girls and Head of the German Department,
High School of the School of Education of the University of Chicago,
Chicago, 111. [Kelly Hall, University of Chicago.]
Robinson, Fred Norris, Assistant Professor of English, Harvard University,
Cambridge, Mass. [Longfellow Park.] - '
Roedder, Edwin Carl, Assistant Professor of German Philology, University
of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis.
Root, Robert Kilburn, Instructor in English, Yale University, New
Haven, Conn.
Rosenbach, Abraham S. W., Philadelphia, Pa. [1505 N. 15th St.]
Roy, Rev. James, Niagara Falls, N. Y. [Station A.]
Rumsey, Olive, Instructor in the English Language and Literature,
Smith College, Northampton, Mass. [53 Crescent St.]
Ruutz-Rees, Caroline, Principal, Rosemary Hall, Greenwich, Conn.
de Salvio, Alphonso, Instructor in Romance Languages, Northwestern Uni-
versity, Evanston, 111. [608 Church St.]
Sampson, Martin Wright, Professor of English, Indiana University, Bloom-
ington, Ind. [403 S. College Ave.]
Saunders, Mrs. Mary J. T., Professor of Modern Languages, Randolph-
Macon Woman's College, Lynchburg, Va. [College Park, Va.]
Saunderson, George W. , Principal of the Saunderson School of Expression
and Seattle School of Oratory, Seattle, Wash. [Holyoke Block.]
Scharff, Violette Eugenie, Instructor in French, Morris High School,
New York, N. Y.
PROCEEDINGS FOR 1904. IxxXV
Schelling, Felix E., Professor of English Literature, University of Pennsyl-
vania, Philadelphia, Pa. [College Hall, University of Pennsylvania. ]
Schilling, Hugo Karl, Professor of the German Language and Literature,
University of California, Berkeley, Cal. [2316 Le Conte Ave.]
Schinz, Albert, Associate Professor of French Literature, Bryn Mawr
College, Bryn Mawr, Pa.
Schlenker, Carl, Assistant Professor of German, University of Minnesota,
Minneapolis, Minn. [312 Union St., S. E.]
Schmidt, Friedrich Georg Gottlob, Professor of Modern Languages, Uni-
versity of Oregon, Eugene, Ore.
Schmidt, Gertrud Charlotte, Teacher of German, Miss Wright's School,
Bryn Mawr, Pa.
Schmidt, Mrs. Violet Jayne, Wellesville, Allegany Co., N. Y.
Schmidt-Wartenburg, Hans, Assistant Professor of Germanic Philology,
University of Chicago, Chicago, 111.
Schneider, John Philip, Professor of English, Wittenberg College, Spring-
field, O. [63 Chestnut Ave.]
Schofield, William Henry, Assistant Professor of English, Harvard Uni-
versity, Cambridge, Mass. [23 Claverly Hall.]
Scholl, John William, Instructor in German, University of Michigan, Ann
Arbor, Mich. [1017 Vaughn St.]
Schiitze, Martin, Associate Instructor in German, University of Chicago,
Chicago, 111.
Schwill, Kudolph, Instructor in the Spanish Language and Literature,
Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [90 Yale Station.]
Scott, Charles Payson Gurley, Yonkers, N. Y.
Scott, Fred Newton, Professor of Khetoric, University of Michigan, Ann
Arbor, Mich. [1351 Washtenaw Ave.]
Scott, Mary Augusta, Professor of English, Smith College, Northampton,
Mass. [123 Elm St.]
Scripture, Edward Wheeler^ Berlin, Germany.
Sechrist, Frank Kleinfelter, Professor of the English Language and Litera-
ture, State Normal School, Stevens Point, Wis. [934 Clark St.]
Segall, Jacob Bernard, Professor of Romance Languages, University of
Maine, Orono, Me.
Semple, Lewis B., Teacher of English, Commercial High School, Brooklyn,
N. Y. [825MarcyAve.]
Severy, Ernest E., Headmaster, Severy School, Nashville, Tenn. [121
Vauxhall St.]
Shackford, Martha Hale, Instructor in English, Wellesley College, Welles-
ley, Mass. [18 Abbott St.]
Shannon, Edgar Finley, Associate Professor of English and Modern
Languages, University of Arkansas, Fayetteville, Ark. [15 Duncan
Ave.]
MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
Sharp, Robert, Professor of English, Tulane University of Louisiana, New
Orleans, La.
Shaw, James Eustace, Associate in Italian, Johns Hopkins University,
Baltimore, Md.
Shearin, Hubert Gibson, Professor of English, Kentucky University,
Lexington, Ky. [222 Band Ave. ]
Sheldon, Edward Stevens, Professor of Komance Philology, Harvard Uni-
versity, Cambridge, Mass. [11 Francis Ave.]
Shepard, William Pierce, Professor of Romance Languages, Hamilton
College, Clinton, N. Y.
Sherman, Lucius A., Professor of the English Language and Literature,
University of Nebraska, Lincoln, Neb.
Sherzer, Jane, Franklin, O.
Shilluk, Anna Felicia, Senior German Teacher, East Minneapolis High
School, Minneapolis, Minn. [12 Florence Court, University Ave.,
S. E.]
Shipley, George, Editor of The Baltimore American, Baltimore, Md. [Uni-
versity Club. ]
Shumway, Daniel Bussier, Assistant Professor of Germanic Languages and
Literatures, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa.
Sills, Kenneth Charles Morton, Tutor in English, Columbia University,
New York, N. Y.
Simonds, William Edward, Professor of English Literature, Knox College,
Galesburg, 111.
Simonton, James S., Professor Emeritus of the French Language and
Literature, Washington and Jefferson College, Washington, Pa.
Skinner, Macy Millmore, Assistant Professor of German, Lelaud Stanford
Jr. University, Stanford University, Cal.
Skinner, Prescott O. , Instructor in Romance Languages, Dartmouth College,
Hanover, N. H.
Sloane, Thomas O' Conor, Consulting Engineer and Chemist, New York,
N. Y. [76 William St.]
Smith, C. Alphonso, Professor of the English Language, University of
North Carolina, Chapel Hill, N. C.
Smith, Herbert A., Lake Waccabuc, N. Y.
Smith, Homer, Professor of English, Ursinus College, Collegeville, Pa.
Smith, Hugh Allison, Professor of Romance Languages, University of
Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. [504 Madison St.]
Smith, Kirby Flower, Professor of Latin, Johns Hopkins University,
Baltimore, Md.
Smith, Lucy Elizabeth, Professor of the Romance Languages and Litera-
tures, Cornell College, Mt. Vernon, la.
PROCEEDINGS FOB 1904.
Snow, William Brackett, Master (French), English High School, Boston,
Mass.
Snyder, Henry Nelson, President and Professor of English Literature,
Wofford College, Spartanburg, S. C.
Spanhoofd, Arnold Werner, Director of German Instruction in the High
Schools, Washington, D. C. [1716 17th St., N. W.]
Spanhoofd, Edward, Head of Department of Modern Languages, St. Paul's
School, Concord, N. H.
Speranza, Carlo Leonardo, Professor of Italian, Columbia University, New
York, N. Y. [1185 Lexington Ave.]
Spieker, Edward Henry, Associate Professor of Greek and Latin, Johns
Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md. [915 Edmondson Ave.]
Spingarn, Joel Elias, Adjunct Professor of Comparative Literature, Colum-
bia University, New York, N. Y.
Stearns, Clara M., Chicago, 111. [5813 Madison Ave.]
van Steenderen, Frederic C. L., Professor of French, Lake Forest Uni-
versity, Lake Forest, 111.
Stempel, Guido Hermann, Associate Professor of Comparative Philology,
Indiana University, Bloomington, Ind. [400 E. 2nd St. ]
Sterling, Susan Adelaide, Assistant Professor of German, University of
Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. [109 W. Washington Ave.]
Stewart, Morton Collins, Cambridge, Mass. [22 Mt. Auburn St.]
Stoddard, Francis Hovey, Professor of the English Language and Litera-
ture, New York University, University Heights, New York, N. Y.
[22 West 68th St.]
Stoll, Elmer Edgar, Instructor in English, Harvard University, Cambridge,
Mass. [33FeltonHall.]
Straffin, Elsie Marion, Teaching Fellow in English, Brown University,
Providence, R I. [16 Cooke St.]
Strauss, Louis A., Assistant Professor of English, University of Michigan,
Ann Arbor, Mich.
Sturtevant, Albert Morey, Instructor in German, Harvard University,
Cambridge, Mass. [16 Divinity Hall. ]
Swearingen, Grace Fleming, Professor of English, Blackburn College,
Carlinville, 111.
Swiggett, Glen Levin, Professor of Modern Languages, University of the
South, Sewanee, Tenn.
Sykes, Frederick Henry, Professor and Director of Extension Teaching,
Teachers' College, Columbia University, New York, N. Y.
Sypherd, Wilbur Owen, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [22
PrescottSt.]
Tatlock, John S. P., Instructor in English, University of Michigan, Ann
Arbor, Mich. [701 S. Ingalls St.]
MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
Taylor, George Coffin, Instructor in the English Language, University of
Colorado, Boulder, Col. [542 Arapahoe St.]
Taylor, Lucien Edward, Boston, Mass. [200 Dartmouth St.]
Taylor, Robert Longley, Assistant Professor of French, Dartmouth College,
Hanover, N. H.
Thayer, Harvey W., Instructor in German, Pratt Institute, Brooklyn, N. Y.
Thieme, Hugo Paul, Assistant Professor of French, University of Michigan,
Ann Arbor, Mich. [1209 E. University Ave.]
Thomas, Calvin, Professor of the Germanic Languages and Literatures,
Columbia University, New York, N. Y.
Thomas, May, Professor of English Literature, Antioch College, Yellow
Springs, O. [Box 213.]
Thorndike, Ashley Horace, Professor of English Literature, Northwestern
University, Evanston, 111.
Thurber, Charles H., Ginn & Co., Boston, Mass. [29 Beacon St.]
Thurber, Edward Allen, New York, N. Y. [115 W. 71st St.]
Tibbals, Kate Watkins, Instructor in English, Vassar College, Poughkeep-
sie, N. Y.
Tilden, Frank Calvin, Professor of the English Language and Literature,
DePauw University, Greencastle, Ind. [201 Water St.]
Tisdel, Frederick Monroe, President of the University of Wyoming,
Laramie, Wyoming.
Todd, Henry Alfred, Professor of Eomance Philology, Columbia Univer-
sity, New York, N. Y.
Todd, T. W., Professor of German, Washburn College, Topeka, Kas.
Tolman, Albert Harris, Assistant Professor of English Literature, Uni-
versity of Chicago, Chicago, 111.
Tombo, Eudolf, Jr., Adjunct Professor of the Germanic Languages and
Literatures, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. {619 W. 138th
St.]
Tombo, Rudolf, Sr., Tutor in German, Barnard College, Columbia Univer-
sity, N. Y. [325 W. 124th St.]
Toy, Walter Dallam, Professor of Germanic Languages and Literatures,
University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, N. C.
Trent, William Peterfield, Professor of English Literature, Columbia Uni-
versity, New York, N. Y. [279 W. 71st St.]
Trueblood, Ralph Waldo, Assistant in Chemistry, Haverford College,
Haverford, Pa.
Truscott, Frederick W., Professor of Germanic Languages, West Virginia
University, Morgantown, W. Va.
Tufts, James Arthur, Professor of English, Phillips Academy, Exeter,
N. H.
Tupper, Frederick, Jr., Professor of Rhetoric and English Literature, Uni-
versity of Vermont, Burlington, Vt.
PROCEEDINGS FOR 1904.
Tapper, James Waddell, Philadelphia, Pa. [616 Bourse Building.]
Turk, Milton Haight, Professor of Rhetoric and the English Language and
Literature, Hobart College, Geneva, N. Y. [678 Main St.]
Turrell, Charles Alfred, Professor of Modern Languages, University of
Arizona, Tucson, Arizona.
Tuttle, Edwin Hotchkiss, New Haven, Conn. [217 Mansfield St.]
Tweedie, William Morley, Professor of the English Language and Litera-
ture, Mount Allison College, Sackville, N. B.
Underwood, Charles Marshall, Jr., South Dennis, Mass.
Utter, Robert Palfrey, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [43 Grays
Hall.]
Vance, Hiram Albert, Professor of English, University of Nashville, Nash-
ville, Tenn. [19 Maple St.]
Viles, George B., Assistant Professor of Germanic Languages and Litera-
tures, Ohio State University, Columbus, Ohio. [229 W. Eleventh
Ave.]
Vogel, Frank, Professor of Modern Languages, Massachusetts Institute of
Technology, Boston, Mass.
Vos, Bert John, Associate Professor of German, Johns Hopkins University,
Baltimore, Md.
Voss, Ernst Karl Johann Heinrich, Professor of German Philology, Uni-
versity of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. [218 W. Gilman St.]
Wahl, George Moritz, Professor of the German Language and Literature,
Williams College, Williamstown, Mass.
Wallace, Malcolm William, Lecturer in English, University College, Uni-
versity of Toronto, Toronto, Canada.
Walz, John Albrecht, Assistant Professor of the German Language and
Literature, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [13£ Hilliard
St.]
Warren, Frederick Morris, Professor of Modern Languages, Yale Uni-
versity, New Haven, Conn.
Wauchope, George Armstrong, Professor of English, South Carolina
College, Columbia, S. C.
Weber, Hermann J., Instructor in German, Harvard University, Cam-
bridge, Mass. [19 Wendell St.]
Weber, William Lander, Professor of English, Emory College, Oxford, Ga.
Webster, Kenneth G. T., Instructor in English, Harvard University, Cam-
bridge, Mass. [19 Ash St.]
Weeks, Raymond, Professor of Romance Languages, University of Missouri,
Columbia, Mo.
XC MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
Wells, John Edwin, Professor of English Literature, Hiram College,
Hiram, Ohio.
Wendell, Barrett, Professor of English, Harvard University, Cambridge,
Mass. [18 Grays Hall.]
Werner, Adolph, Professor of the German Language and Literature, College
of the City of New York, New York, N. Y. [339 W. 29th St.]
Wernicke, Paul, State College of Kentucky, Lexington, Ky.
Wesselhoeft, Edward Carl, Assistant Professor of German, University of
Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [College Hall, University of
Pennsylvania.]
West, Henry Skinner, Principal and Professor of English, Western High
School, Baltimore, Md.
West, Henry T., Professor of German, Kenyon College, Gambier, O.
Weston, George B., Instructor in French, Dartmouth College, Hanover,
N. H.
Weygandt, Cornelius, Assistant Professor of English, University of Penn-
sylvania, Philadelphia, Pa.
Wharey, James Blanton, Professor of English, Southwestern Presbyterian
University, Clarksville, Tenn.
Whitaker, L., Professor of the English Language and Literature, North-
east Manual Training School, Philadelphia, Pa. [1111 Howard St.]
White, Alain C., New York, N. Y. [560 Fifth Ave.]
White, Horatio Stevens, Professor of German, Harvard University, Cam-
bridge, Mass. [29 Eeservoir St.]
WThiteford, Kobert N., Head Instructor in English Literature, High School,
Peoria, 111.
Whitelock, George, Counsellor at Law, Baltimore, Md. [1407 Continental
Trust Building.]
Whitney, Marian P., Teacher of Modern Languages, Hillhouse High
School, New Haven, Conn. [227 Church St.]
Whittem, Arthur Fisher, Instructor in Eomance Languages, Harvard Uni-
versity, Cambridge, Mass. [23 Woodbridge St.]
Wightman, John Eoaf, Professor of Komance Languages, Oberlin College,
Oberlin, O.
Wilkens, Frederick H. , Assistant Professor of German, New York Univer-
sity, University Heights, New York, N. Y.
Wilkins, E. H. , Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [58 Kirkland St.]
Williams, Grace Sara, Instructor in Eomance Languages, University of
Missouri, Columbia, Mo.
Wilson, Charles Bundy, Professor of the German Language and Literature,
State University of Iowa, Iowa City, la.
Winchester, Caleb Thomas, Professor of English Literature, Wesleyan
University, Middletown, Conn.
PROCEEDINGS FOB 1904. Xci
Winkler, Max, Professor of the German Language and Literature, Uni-
versity of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich.
Wood, Francis Asbury, Assistant Professor of Germanic Philology, Univer-
sity of Chicago, Chicago, 111.
Wood, Henry, Professor of German, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore,
Md. [109 North Ave., W.]
Woods, Charles F., Colorado Springs, Col. [6 Boulder Crescent.]
Woodward, B. D., Professor of the Romance Languages and Literatures,
Columbia University, New York, N. Y.
Worden, J. Perry, Instructor in German, Central High School, St. Louis,
Mo.
Wright, Arthur Silas, Professor of Modern Languages, Case School of
Applied Science, Cleveland, O.
Wright, Charles Baker, Professor of English Literature and Rhetoric,
Middlebury College, Middlebury, Vt.
Wright, Charles Henry Conrad, Assistant Professor of French, Harvard
University, Cambridge, Mass. [7 Buckingham St.]
Wright, Maurice E., Professor of German and French, Grove City College,
Grove City, Pa.
Wylie, Laura Johnson, Professor of English, Vassar College, Poughkeepsie,
N. Y.
Young, Bert Edward, Adjunct Professor of Romance Languages, Vander-
bilt University, Nashville, Tenn.
Young, Mary V., Professor of Romance Languages, Mt. Holyoke College,
South Hadley, Mass.
Young, Stark, Assistant in English, University of Mississippi, University,
Miss.
Zdanowicz, Casimir Douglass, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass.
[18 Crescent St.]
(708)
Xcii MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
LIBRARIES
SUBSCRIBING FOR THE PUBLICATIONS OF THE
ASSOCIATION.
Albany, N. Y. : New York State Library.
Amherst, Mass. : Amherst College Library.
Aurora, N. Y. : Wells College Library.
Austin, Texas : Library of the University of Texas.
Baltimore, Md. Enoch Pratt Free Library.
Baltimore, Md. Johns Hopkins University Library.
Baltimore, Md. Library of the Peabody Institute.
Baltimore, Md. Woman's College Library.
Beloit, Wis. : Beloit College Library.
Berkeley, Cal. : Library of the University of California.
Berlin, Germany : Englisches Seminar der Universitat Berlin. [Dorothe-
enstrasse 94]
Bloomington, Ind. : Indiana University Library.
Boston, Mass. : Public Library of the City of Boston.
Bryn Mawr, Pa. : Bryn Mawr College Library.
Buffalo, N. Y. : The Buffalo Public Library.
Burlington, Vt. : Library of the University of Vermont.
Cambridge, Mass. : Harvard University Library.
Cambridge, Mass. : Radcliffe College Library.
Chapel Hill, N. C. : Library of the University of North Carolina.
Charlottesville, Va. : Library of the University of Virginia.
Chicago, 111. : The General Library of the University of Chicago.
Chicago, 111. : The Newberry Library.
Cincinnati, Ohio : Library of the University of Cincinnati.
Cleveland, Ohio : Adelbert College Library,
Collegeville, Pa. : Ursinus College Library.
Columbia, Mo. : Library of the University of Missouri.
Concord, N. H. : New Hampshire State Library.
Decorah, Iowa : Luther College Library.
Detroit, Mich. : The Public Library.
Evanston, 111. : Northwestern University Library.
PROCEEDINGS FOR 1904. xciii
Giessen, Germany : Die Grossherzogliche Univereitiits-Bibliothek.
Greensboro, Ala. : Library of Southern University.
Hartford, Conn. : Watkinson Library.
Iowa City, Iowa : Library of State University of Iowa.
Ithaca, N. Y. : Cornell University Library.
Knoxville, Tenn. : University of Tennessee Library.
Lincoln, Neb. : State University of Nebraska Library.
London, England : London Library. [St. James Sq., S. W.]
Madison, Wis. : University of Wisconsin Library.
Middlebury, Vt. : Middlebury College Library.
Middletown, Conn. : Wesleyan University Library.
Minneapolis, Minn. : University of Minnesota Library.
Munich, Germany : Konigl. Hof- und Staats Bibliothek.
Nashville, Tenn. : Vanderbilt University Library.
New Haven, Conn. : Yale University Library.
New Orleans, La. : Library of the H. Sophie Newcomb Memorial College.
[1220 Washington Ave.]
New York, N. Y. : Columbia University Library.
New York, N. Y. : The New York Public Library (Astor, Lenox, and
Tilden Foundations). [40 Lafayette Place].
Oberlin, Ohio : Oberliu College Library.
Painesville, O. : Library of Lake Erie College.
Paris, France : BibliothSque de 1' University & la Sorbonne.
Peoria, 111. : Peoria Public Library.
Philadelphia, Pa. : University of Pennsylvania Library.
Pittsburg, Pa. : Carnegie Library.
Poughkeepsie, N. Y. : Vassar College Library.
Princeton, N. J. : Library of Princeton University.
Providence, R. I.: Providence Public Library. [32 Snow St.]
Rochester, N. Y. : Library of the University of Rochester. [Prince St.]
Rock Hill, S. C. : Winthrop Normal and Industrial College Library.
Sacramento, Cal. : State Library of California.
Seattle, Wash. : University of Washington Library.
South Bethlehem, Pa. : Lehigh University Library.
Springfield, Ohio : Wittenberg College Library.
Stanford University, Cal. : Leland Stanford Jr. University Library.
Urbana, 111.: Library of the University of Illinois. [University Station.]
Washington, D. C.: Library of Supreme Council of 33d Degree. [433
Third Street, N. W.]
Wellesley, Mass. : Wellesley College Reading Room Library.
West Point, N. Y. : Library of the U. S. Military Academy.
Williamstown, Mass. : Williams College Library.
Worcester, Mass. : Free Public Library.
(70)
Xciv MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
HONORARY MEMBERS.
GRAZIADIO I. ASCOLI, Milan, Italy.
K. VON BAHDEB, University of Leipsic.
HENRY BRADLEY, Oxford, England.
ALOIS L. BRANDL, University of Berlin.
W. BRAUNE, University of Heidelberg.
SOPHUS BUQGE, University of Christiania.
KONRAD BURDACH, University of Berlin.
WENDELIN FORSTER, University of Bonn.
F. J. FURNIVALL, London, England.
GUSTAV GROBER, University of Strasburg.
B. P. HASDEU, University of Bucharest.
EICHARD HEINZEL, University of Vienna.
OTTO JESPERSEN, University of Copenhagen.
FR. KLUGE, University of Freiburg.
MARCELINO MENENDEZ Y PELAYO, Madrid.
PAUL MEYER, College de France.
W. MEYER-LUBKE, University of Vienna.
JACOB MINOR, University of Vienna.
JAMES A. H. MURRAY, Oxford, England.
ADOLPH MUSSAFIA, University of Vienna.
ARTHUR NAPIER, University of Oxford.
FRITZ NEUMANN, University of Heidelberg.
ADOLPH NOREEN, University of Upsala.
H. PAUL, University of Munich.
F. YORK POWELL, University of Oxford.
Pio EAJNA, Florence, Italy.
AUGUST SAUER, University of Prague.
J. SCHIPPER, University of Vienna,
H. SCHUCHART, University of Graz.
ERICH SCHMIDT, University of Berlin.
EDUARD SIEVERS, University of Leipsic.
W. W. SKEAT, University of Cambridge.
JOHANN STORM, University of Christiania.
H. SUCHIER, University of Halle.
HENRY SWEET, Oxford, England.
ANTOINE THOMAS, Sorbonne, Paris.
ADOLPH TOBLER, University of Berlin.
EICHARD PAUL WULKER, University of Leipsic.
PROCEEDINGS FOB 1904. XCV
ROLL OF MEMBERS DECEASED.
J. T. AKERS, Central College, Bichmond, Ky.
T. WHITING BANCROFT, Brown University, Providence, R. I. [1890.]
D. L. BARTLETT, Baltimore, Md. [1899.]
W. M. BASKERVILL, Vanderbilt University, Nashville, Tenn. [1899.]
ALEXANDER MELVILLE BELL, Washington, D. C. [1905.]
DANIEL G. BRINTON, Media, Pa. [1899.]
FRANK KOSCOE BUTLER, Hathorne, Mass. [1905.]
CHARLES CHOLLET, West Virginia University, Morgantown, W. Va.
[1903.]
HENRY COHEN, Northwestern University, Evanston, 111. [1900.]
WILLIAM COOK, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [1888.]
SUSAN R. CUTLER, Chicago, 111. [1899.]
A. N. VAN DAELL, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Boston. Mass.
[1899.]
EDWARD GRAHAM DAVES, Baltimore, Md. [1894.]
W. DEUTSCH, St. Louis, Mo. [1898.]
ERNEST AUGUST EGGERS, Ohio State University, Columbus, O. [1903.]
FRANCIS R. FAVA, Columbian University, Washington, D. C. [1896.]
L. HABEL, Norwich University, Northfield, Vermont. [1886.]
RUDOLPH HAYM, University of Halle. [1901.]
GEORGE A. HENCH, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [1899.]
RUDOLPH HILDEBRAND, Leipsic, Germany. [1894.]
JULIAN HUGUENIN, University of Louisiana, Baton Rouge, La. [1901.]
ANDREW INGRAHAM, Cambridge, Mass. [1905.]
J. KARGE, Princeton College, Princeton, N. J. [1892.]
F. L. KENDALL, Williams College, Williamstown, Mass. [1893.]
EUGENE KOLBING, Breslau, Germany. [1899.]
J. LEVY, Lexington, Mass.
AUGUST LODEMAN, Michigan State Normal School, Ypsilanti, Mich.
[1902.]
JULES LOISEAU, New York, N. Y.
JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL, Cambridge, Mass. [1891.]
J. LUQUIENS, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [1899.]
XCvi MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.
THOMAS McCABE, Bryn Mawr College, Bryn Mawr, Pa. [1891.]
J. G. K. MCELROY, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa.
[1891.]
EDWARD T. MCLAUGHLIN, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [1893.]
Louis EMIL MENGER, Bryn Mawr College, Bryn Mawr, Pa. [1903.]
CHARLES WALTER MESLOH, Ohio State University, Columbus, O. [1904.]
SAMUEL P. MOLENAER, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa.
[1900.]
JAMES O. MURRAY, Princeton University, Princeton, N. J. [1901.]
C. K. NELSON, Brookville, Md. [1890.]
W. N. NEVIN, Lancaster, Pa. [1892.]
CONRAD H. NORDBY, College of the City of New York, New York, N. Y.
[1900.]
C. P. OTIS, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Boston, Mass. [1888.]
GASTON PARIS, College de France, Paris, France. [1903.]
W. H. PERKINSON, University of Virginia, Charlottesville, Va. [1898.]
SAMUEL PORTER, Gallaudet College, Kendall Green, Washington, D. C.
[1901.]
EENE DE POYEN-BELLISLE, University of Chicago, Chicago, 111. [1900.]
THOMAS B. PRICE, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. [1903.]
CHARLES H. Boss, Agricultural and Mechanical College, Auburn, Ala.
[1900.]
M. SCHELE DE VERB, University of Virginia, Charlottesville, Va. [1898.]
O. SEIDENSTICKER, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [1894.]
JAMES W. SHERIDAN, College of the City of New York, New York, N. Y.
MAX SOHRAUER, New York, N. Y.
F. E. STENGEL, Columbia University, New York, N. Y.
H. TALLICHET, Austin, Texas. [1894.]
E. L. WALTER, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [1898.]
KARL WEINHOLD, University of Berlin. [1901.]
CARLA WENCKEBACH, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. [1902.]
HELENE WENCKEBACH, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. [1888. ]
MARGERET M. WICKHAM, Adelphi College, Brooklyn, N. Y. [1898.]
E. H. WILLIS, Chatham, Va. [1900.]
CASIMIR ZDANOWICZ, Vanderbilt University, Nashville, Tenn. [1889.]
JULIUS ZUPITZA, Berlin, Germany. [1895.]
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