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Modern Language Association 









Pbqited BT J. H. Fubst Compaky 


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l^P 1367 

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A* Mabsbaix Elliott, ........i 

L — Skuluid Shal in the Chaaoer ManoBcripto. By Cabletoh 

Bbowm, --. t 

n. — The Catalmn Ma$ear&n and an Episode in Jacob Tan Maer- 
V lant's Merl^ By J. P. WicxxBflHAM Cbawfobd, - 31 

^^ HI. — Spenser, Thomson, and Bomanticism. By Hjebbkbt £. 

COBT, 61 , 

IV. — ^The Qaeenes Majesties Entertainment at Woodstocke. By 


V. — An English Friend of Charles of Orleans. By Hekbt 


Vll— Philippe de M4zidr^ Dramatic Office for the Presenta- 

« tion of the Virgin. By Ejlbl Young, - - - 181 
VTL— The Philological Legend of Cynewulf. By F&kduuok ^ 

TUPPBB, Jb., 236 

Vm. — The Romance Lyric from the Standpoint of Antecedent 

Latin Documents. By F. M. Wabbxn, - - - 280 
.>^IX.;i-The **Corooc8 Two" of the Second Ifun*$ Tale. By Johh u 

L1VIKG0TON Lowes, 316 

X. — Romantic Tendencies in the Novels of the Abb^ Prevost. 

*"*• By Bknj. M. Woodbbidojc, 324 

XI. — Romance Etimologies. By Cabl C Ricb, - - - 833 
XTL — ^The Inflaence of Fien Plcwman on the Macra Play of 

Mankind, By Mabel M. Kkitj.eb, ... 339 

Xm. — Metipsimns in Spanish and French. By Aubelio M. 

EspnroaA, 366 

XIV. — The Harmoniiing of Grammatical Nomenclature, with 
Especial Reference to Mood-Syntax. By Wm. Qabd- 

HEB Hale, 879 

^ XV. — The 8hepheard9 (hlemUr. By EDwnr A. QbeiCKLAW, - 419"! •* 
N4 XVI. — A Study in Renaissance Mysticism: Spenser's 'Fowre ' ^* 

Hymnes.' By Jbffeb80H B. Fletcheb, - - 462^ 
XVTI. — ^Influence des R^ts de Voyages sur la Philosophic de J. 

J. Rousseau. By Gilbebt Chinabd, ... 476 
XVIII. — ^French Influence on the Beginnings of English Classicism. 

By Elizabeth Jellitte Macihtibe, ... 496 
XrX. — A Suggestion for a New Edition of Butler's Hudibrai. By 

Edwabd Chauhcet Baij>win, ...... 628 

XX.— Wilhelm HaufPs Speciflc Relation to Walter Scott. By 

Gabbett W. Thompson, 649 

XXL — ^P^chological Reasons for Leseing's Attitude towards De- 
scriptive Poetry. By Eubice R. Goddabd, - - 693 
XXLL— The Declension of Substantives in the ZerbeUr Hand$chrift 

By Wabben WAaHBUBN Flobeb, .... 604 



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r^/<>t I'f 



Modern Language Association 










At 107 Walejeb Street, GAMBBiDOBy Mass. 
BoaroN PoerAL Dibtbict 
QxTBBCJBXFnov Pbioe |3.00 ▲ Yeab ; Singub Numbebs $1.00 
Printed by J. EL Fubst Gompant 


jSDtarad KoTcmber 7, 1902, »t Boston, Mali., m seoond-eUM niAtfetr 
oBdor Aei of OongrMs of Maioh 8; 1879. 

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A. Makshall Elliott, 1-6 

I. — ShiU and Shed in the Chaucer Manuscripts. By Carlbton 

Brown, 6-30 

II. — The Catalan MasearSn and an EpiBode in Jacob van Maerlant's 

MerlijTL By J. P. Wickersham Crawford, - - - 31-50 
III. — Spenser, Thomson, and Romanticism. By Herbert E. Cory, 51-91 
rV. — The Queenes Majesties Entertainment at Woodstocke. By J. W. 

CUXLIFFB, 92-141 

v.— An English Friend of Charles of Orleans. By Henry Noble 

MacCbacken, - - - - 142-180 

VI. — Phillippe de M^zidres* Dramatic Office for the Presentation of the 

Virgin. By Karl Young, 181-234 

Appendix. — Proceedings of the Twenty-eighth Annual Meeting of 
the Modem Language Association of America, held at 
the College of the City of New York, N. Y., and at Wash- 
ington University, St. Louis, Mc, December 28, 29, 30, 
1910, - i-ivii 

The President's Address, Iviii-lxxiii 

The Chairman's Address, - - . - . - Ixxiv-xcvi 

Officers for 1911, xcvii 

Constitution, xcviii-ci 

Index, ciii 

The annual volume of the Publications </ the Modem Language Associatifm of 
America is issued in quarterly instalments. It contains chiefly articles which have 
been presented at the meetings of the Association and approved for publication by 
the Editorial Committee. Other appropriate contributions may be accepted by 
the Committee. The closing number of each volume includes, in Appendices, the 
Proceedings of the last Annual Meeting of the Association and its Divisions. 

The complete sets of the first seven volumes of these Publications are all sold. 
The subsequent volumes, comprising all the New Series, may be obtained of the 
Secretary. The subscription for the current volume is $3.00. The price of single 
numbers is $1.00 each. 

Copies of the Eeport of the Committee of Twelve on Admission Requirements 
may be obtained of the Secretary. The price is ten cents a copy. 

All communications should be addrest to 

Charles H. Qrandoent, 

Secretary of the AsBodationy 
Harvdrd University, Oambridgef Maes, 

The next meeting of the Association, which will be a Union Meeting, will 
be held in Chicago, on December 27, 28, and 29. Attention is called to the 
regulations printed on the third page of this cover. 

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Modem Language Association of America 


Vol. XXVI, 1 

New Series, Vol. XIX, 1 


jAmJARY 24, 1844-NoVEBfBBR 9, 1910 

By the death of A. Marshall Elliott the Modem Lan- 
guage Association has lost its founder and first Secretary^ 
the teacher of some of its foremost members^ and a friend 
whose ample erudition^ unflagging enthusiasm^ and genial 
kindness were a potent influence in developing in America 
those studies and that fellowship among scholars which the 
Association aims to foster. 

Of English Quaker stock first settled in Pennsylvania, 
but early removed to the South, he was born in North 
Carolina, the son of Aaron and Rhoda Mendenhall Elliott 
His childhood was spent near Elizabeth City. After com- 
pleting his secondary education at the New Garden Boarding 
School; he left the South to attend Haverford College, where 
he vras graduated in 1866. A year was then spent in 
teaching in his boyhood's school. Leaving his native state, 
i^hither be never returned for any prolonged stay, he 


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entered Harvard College in the autamn of 1867 as a 
member of the Senior class. His instructors were Krauss, 
Cutler, Torrey, Bowen, Peabody, and Lovering. Upon 
receiving the degree of Bachelor of Arts with high rank 
(he was third in his class), he started for Europe as a private 
tutor, and remained abroad, pursuing various studies in many 
countries, for the greater part of eight years. In Paris he 
attended lectures at the CoU^ de France and the £cole 
des Hautes £tudes. On the outbreak of the Franco*Prussian 
war in 1870 he had a thrilling experience in escaping from 
the metropolis on the day before its investiture by the Ger- 
man army. For a couple of years he busied himself with 
Sanskrit and other things in Florence. In 1873 he was 
diligently applying himself to the acquisition of Arabic at 
the University of Madrid. Spain was the scene of another 
exciting adventure, his capture and rough treatment by 
a band of Carlists. The next year found him in Ger- 
many, where he devoted himself to the Oriental languages 
at the universities of Tubingen, Vienna, and Munich until 
the autumn of 1876. It was during this formative period 
of his life that he laid the broad foundation for his lin- 
guistic attainments. At one time he was able to speak 
Eussian and Modem Greek'; he was familiar with San- 
skrit, Arabic, and Persian ; he became acquainted with 
the chief languages of western Europe and with many of 
the Bomance dialects. Later he added Rumanian and 
Rsetian, as well as Canadian French, and continued his 
investigations of many local forms of speech. 

Early in 1876 he began to correspond with Dr. Daniel 
C. Oilman, the first President of the Johns Hopkins Uni- 
versity; and on June 5, 1876, he was appointed an Asso- 
ciate for Languages in the newly founded institution, in 
whose service the remainder of his life was to be spent. 
At first it was his intention to devote himself to the Eastern 

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tongues^ but he very soon relinqaiflht this project and turned 
his attention to the Bomanoe field. An evidence of the 
transitional stage is to be fonnd in the title of the first paper 
which he read before the Johns Hopkins Philological Asso* 
dation early in 1878 : Do the Bomanoe Languages bear the 
same relation to the Latin that the modem Prakrit diaieots do 
to Scmakrit f Bomanoe studies were then^ as is well known, 
in a discouraging state in America, and it was necessary for 
Elliott to do much pioneer work at the b^inning of his 
professorial career. At first, in addition to his guidance of 
older students, he gave instruction in French to under- 
graduates ; but he was soon able to transfer this task to his 
assistants and give himself entirely to graduate courses. It 
was not until 1881 that the first doctor^s degree was granted 
to a Romance scholar at the University ; but Elliott lived 
to see the fiftieth such d^ree bestowed on one of his pupils 
nearly thirty years later. His fondness for travel never 
forsook him : he crest the ocean more than sixty times, and 
spent in all some forty summers in Europe, Asia, and 
Africa. Of an eminently social disposition, and prized both 
for his talents and for his never-failing cheerfulness, he was a 
member of an extraordinary number of clubs and other organ- 
izations. At the end of 1883 the Modem Language Associa- 
tion was founded, and for nine years (1884-92) be labored, as 
its Secretary and editor of its Publications, to make it a worthy 
organ of American scholarship. He was President of the 
ALSSociation in 1894. In 1900 he was an official delegate to 
the Paris Exposition, and in 1907 the French government 
awarded him the Cross of the Legion of Honor. Various 
honorary d^rees were conferred on him by American insti- 
tations of learning. When, in his last years, disease came 
upon him, he visited several health resorts ; his last summer 
was spent in Atlantic City, afler nearly six months' stay in 

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the Johns Hopkins Hospital. Finally, in October, 1910, 
he returned to Baltimore to die in his own home. 

During his long academic career he taught a great variety 
of subjects. Persian poetry, French, Italian, Spanish, 
Portuguese, and Eumanian were treated by him. For 
many years he lectured on popular Latin as a back- 
ground for Eomance developments, and followed this up by 
extended comparisons of the usage of Old, Middle, and 
Modem French. Annually he gave a course on the dialects 
of northern France, and occasionally also on the Italian 
dialects. His Dante lectures, broad in scope, were regularly 
delivered for many years. The science of phonetics was 
practically taught in connection with French pronunciation, 
and linguistic ethnography came in for a share of his atten- 
tion. In his seminary he in the early period of his service 
examined a number of the oldest French texts ; then for 
nineteen years he concentrated his attention on the prepara- 
tion of a critical edition of the Fables of Marie de France, 
projected on a monumental scale. This work he left only 
half completed. For seven years he also conducted a pro- 
seminary in which the lay of the Bisclavret by Marie de 
France was made the basis of a comparative study of French 
syntax and etymology. In his study of this Old French 
authoress he ranged far in the field of comparative literature. 
Genealogical researches, in connection with the two branches of 
his own family, occupied much of his time. For twenty-five 
years he edited Modem I/mguage Notes, Some fifty articles 
were contributed by him to various periodicals. He accumu- 
lated a library of about five thousand books and pamphlets, 
which he bequeathed to the Romance Seminary. At the 
same time he founded a Romance scholarship. In the last 
year of his life active work was begun by his pupils on a 
volume of studies in his honor, which is now in press. 

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Sach a volume is indeed the most fitting monument to one 
^ho, in the midst of many cares and occupations^ always 
gave the best of himself to his students, in whose welfare 
he never ceased to be actively interested. The achieve- 
ments of his former pupils and their affectionate r^ard for 
him bear sufficient witness to the success of his labor. 


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Before we may hope to solve some of the problems which 
confront the student of Chaucer we must gam a clearer 
understanding of the relationship in which the extant Mss. 
stand to the text written by the poet's own hand. In the 
hope of throwing some light upon this relationship it 
occurred to the present writer to apply to all the Chaucer 
MSS. thus fitr printed a very obvious grammatical test by 
noting their usage in the case of the plural present indicative 
of the verb shuUen. The use of this test first su^ested 
itself as a result of my observation that in these forms there 
is a curious variation among different mss., and even in the 
same ms. in different portions of Chi^ucer's text. These 
reversals of usage in the same ms. are best iUustrated in 
Camb. Gg. 4, 27, for this manuscript contains not only the 
Ckmt, TaleSf but also TroUvs, the Pari, of FouUsy and the 
Legend of G. W, In the Pari, of F. one finds the plural of 
the present indicative written ackal eight times and scfud 
only once ; in H'oUus, on the other hand, there are no less 
than forty-one schaCe as against eight schuPs. Much the same 
ratio is found in the Legend, which has eleven aehaPs and 
only two BchuPs. Moreover, among the several tales of the 
Canterbury collection this manuscript shows marked differ- 
ence of usage, swinging abruptly from six to two in favor 
of Bchal in the Man of Law's Tale to nine to one in &vor 
of 9chul in the Wife of Bath's Tale, which immediately fol- 
lows. Similar examples of reversal of usage in these forms 
might be cited in nearly all the printed mss. Such alter- 
nations between adial and ^vl on the part of the same 
scribe are evidently due to variations in the mss. from which 

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\ie was oopyiug. In other words, the responsibility for this 
vaiiation in usage does not rest upon the scribes of the 
extant M88., — ^though thejr may have added to the confiision 
already existing. It is clear, then, that this confusion be- 
tween thul and shcU must proceed, either from scribes inter- 
mediate between Chaucer and the extant copies or — ^from 
Chaucer himself. 

It will be well, before plunging into the details of the 
manuscript readings, to consider briefly this latter possi- 
bility. How far are we justified in supposing that Chaucer 
himself viras consistent in distinguishing between schal and 
sckid^ To this it may be answered, in the first place, 
that whether his perception of the grammatical distinction 
between these forms were clear or dim, Chaucer would 
hardly write sehvl in the Pari, of F. and then change to 
sehcU in TroUtLs and the Legend, or write schul in some of 
the OanL Tales and schal in others. 

A more convincing answer to this question, however, is 
found by appealing to Gk>wer's usage in the Oonfesdo Aman^ 
tis. Fortunately, in the case of Gower's poem there is pre- 
served a manuscript — Fairfax 3 — which, according to Mr. 
6. C. Macaulay, was actually written and revised under 
Gower's own direction. It has therefore practically the 
authority of a holograph. I give the following tabulation 
of the plural scJmPs and schaPs which appear in the text of 
the Oonf. Am. as it is printed from the Fairfax MS. by Mr. 
Macaulay : 

lirst Person 
8C^ul—Y 1914. 

Second Person 

. schulr^i 1258 ; v 3544, 5766 ; vi 1915, 1928 ; viii 3055. 
schuli—i 3197 ; v 2337 ; vi 2041; vm 903. 
schal^Yin 1212. 

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Third Person 

8chul—i 3246 ; v 5672, 7433 ; Vl 1225 ; vii 506, 3335.^ 
8chuM—y 786, 2104, 2157, 2587 ; vi 1938 ; vn 1752 : 
vra 1782. 

achol—Prol. 1034. schuOefir^i 2251. 
schuUe—i 2558 ; iv 2239 ; vn 4825. achule v 3529. 
schalr—i 1456, 1466; in iBSSS; TvS6S0, S669 ; vn S19Z. 
schaU — ^i 77. 

Possibly another case of the plural schal is to be recognized 
in the line, — 

The pledour and the plee Bchal faile (n 3416). 

It seems to me more likely, however, that here, as in 
Chaucer's line, — 

His bestes and his stoor shal multiplye (C 365) — 

the verb is to be r^arded as a singular in agreement with 
the adjacent substantive rather than as the plural with a 
compound subject. 

Gower's use of aehal in the plural, it will be noted, is 
confined almost exclusively to the third person. And it is 
to be observed further that, with one exception (i 77), these 
forms occur in the phrase men sehal, in which men is not 
the substantive but the indefinite pronoun. This raises the 
question, which we shall have to consider later in the case 
of Chaucer, whether this indefinite pronoun was felt to be 
plural or singular. In any case, it is clear that in the 
phrase men schal as it is used by both Gower and Chaucer 
we are dealing with a grammatical idiom. If we leave out 
of account the six instances of men schal, we have left only 
two cases in the whole Chnfeaaio AmanJUa in which the. 

^ Stafford MS., in the Tale of the Jew and Pagan, cot out of Fairfax. 

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singalar form 9chal appears ongrammatically in plural con- 
struotion. It is certain, therefore, that Gower clearly recog- 
nized the grammatical distinction between schal and adiulj 
and that he carefully observed it 

It is a reasonable assumption, it seems to me, that Chaucer 
was no less careful, though in his case, unfortunately, we do 
not have the advantage of working with mss. which were 
prepared or revised under his direction. Certainly the 
extant Chaucer mss., in the forms which they give us of this 
verb in the plaral, show wide variety : schuly ahiUf shull, 
BchvJUy schuUcy shuUef shvUen, schtdlertf scholy schoUy sckoUe, 
sehoUen, shaly achcU, shaU, schdll. For our purpose, however, 
ignoring mere orthographic variation, it is sufficient to divide 
these forms into two classes: (1) those which show the 
vowel "u^' or "o" — the latter spelling being confined 
almost wholly to the Lansdowne MS. ; and (2) those which 
show the vowel "a^^ — improperly carried over from the 
singular. For convenience I shall refer to these two classes 
as ^^ a ''-forms and ^^ u ''-forms, including among the latter 
the instances of '^ o "-spellings — which, after all, represent 
dialectical rather than grammatical variation. 

The shorter minor poems ofier only a few scattered cases 
of plural 8Aaf s or shuPB, and upon these it is impossible to 
base any inference. For the sake of completeness, however, 
I cite the few instances which occur, with the manuscript 
readings. My collations depend throughout, it is almost 
needless to state, upon the Cliaucer Society's prints. 

The ABC— one case (line 37) : " u"-form in Camb. Ff. 
5. 30, Bedford (now Addit. 36,983), Bodl. 638, Harl. 2251, 
Harl. 7578, Pepys 2006 ("B") ; ''a "-form in Camb. Gg., 
Sion Coll., Hunterian, Fairfex 16, Laud 740, St John's 
G. 21, Pepys 2006 ("E"). 

The Dethe of Blawnche — one case (line 205) : all three mss. 
(Fairfax, Bodl. 638, Tanner 346) r^d Bhvl. 

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The CompUyrUe to Pite— one case (line 28) : " u ''-form in 
Fairfax, Bodl. 638, PhUlipps' (now Addit. 34,360), Trinity 
R. 3. 19, Harl. 7578, and Longleat; "a ''-form in Tanner 
346 and Camb. Ff. 1. 6. 

The Erwoy to Scogan — ^two cases (1) line 28 : '* u "-fonn 
in Fairfax and Pepys 2006 {''W); "a "-form, Camb. Gg. 
(2) line 33 : "u''-form in Pepys 2006 : "a ''-form, Camb. 
Gg. and Fairfax. 

The Proverbs of Chaticer — one case (line 1) : ahvl in Fair- 
fax; shot in Addit. 16,165. 

In the Parlemervt of Foules there are altogether eight cases 
of the verb shuUen in the present indicative plural. They 
are found at lines 55, 80, 83, 229, 400, 402, 524 and 658. 
The following table exhibits the division of the MSS. between 
the " u ''-forms and the " a "-forms. 

Parlement of Fovlea 

Camb. Gg 

Fairfax 16 

Bodl. 638 

Tanner 346 


Harl. 7333 

St. John's Oxf 

Pep78 2006("B").. 

TnnityR. 3. 19 


Seld. B. 24 

Camb. Hh. 4. 12.*.... 

Cainb.Pf. 1.6 

Laud 416* 

First Person | 

Second Personj 

Third Person 

<« 1^ i> 


(t^ if 







































































^Including line 400, where ics. corruptly reads ^Hhey" instead of 

* Including line 590, where all other HSS. correctly read "shuld." 
'Occurs at line 635 in the spurious ooadusion found only in this va, 

* Ms. breaks off at line 365. 
^Ms. runs only to line 142. 

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Of these MSS. only one — Camb. Gg. — goes back to the 
early fifteenth century. Three others — Fairfax, Bodl. and 
Tanner — were written toward the middle of the century; 
and all the rest date from the second half of the fifteenth 
century. It will be observed that as one comes down the line 
to these later hss. there is a constant tendency to replace 
shuCs by shdPs. Indeed, in Selden B. 24 (written by a 
Scottish scribe) and Camb. Ff. the shuPs have entirely 
disappeared. Obviously only the earlier mss. have any 
authority as to the Chaucerian usage in the matter under 
consideration. And in these mss., it will be observed, the 
" u "-forms are greatly in the majority. Indeed, in Bodl. 
638 the only instance of shal which appears is at line 524 
in the phrase nun shaly where the use of shcU seems to be 
idiomatic. Oddly enough, however, in this instance Camb. 
Qg.y Trinity and St. John's read schiU. 

Miss Hammond ^ has shown that the mss. of the Pari, of 
F. divide themselves into two groups, headed respectively 
by Camb. Gg. and by Fairfax, Bodl. and Tanner — these 
ihree being copies from the same original. It is important 
to observe that in the leading representatives of both groups 
— ^which represent difierent lines of textual tradition — there 
is the same preponderance of '* u "-forms. 

Less satisfactory is the situation in the Horn of Fame. 
Here also there are eight cases of our verb in plural con- 
struction : lines 512, 525, 1615, 1616, 1619, 1634, 1667, 
1717. But here the "a "-forms outnumber the "u "-forms, 
as will be seen from tiie following table : 






BodL 688 






^ <'0q the Text of Chaucer's PartoMmt of FauUs^" Deeennial Pubs, of 
XJmo. cf ChieagOf first Series, Vol. vii, 1903, p. 8. 

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One of these " a "-forms (" shal men see," 525) is 
explained, no doubt, by its use with the indefinite pronoun. 
Even when this is subtracted, however, the shuPs do not show 
the preponderance which they have in the Pari, of F. The 
difference in this respect appears to be due to inferior manu- 
script tradition. It is to be remembered that no early MS. 
of the HouB of Fame survives. 

A conspicuous departure, however, from the comparatively 
regular usage which characterizes the Pari, of F. meets us in 
the TroUvs and the Legend of Oood Women, though in the 
case of these texts we have earlier manuscripts to deal with 
than in the case of the Houa of Fam^. 

In the TroUuB, which I consider first, the present indica- 
tive plural of ahuUen occurs fifty-four times.^ The following 
table shows the number of " a "-forms and " u "-forms 
respectively in six of the seven Troilus MSS. printed by the 
Chaucer Society, the seventh — Harl. 3943 — ^being reserved 
for special consideration for reasons which will appear later : 

First Person | 

Second PersonI 

Third Person 

it Q l» 


(( • 1) 









































C. C. C. C. 61.... 

Harl. 2280 

Camb. Gg 

St John's Camb 
Harl. 1239 » 

' The following list of the cases in Troiha may be conyenient for refer- 
ence: 1 122 (twice), 245; n 92, 280, 1021, 1114, 1391 ; in 171, 181, 564, 
660, 661, 667, 771, 877, 884, 952, 1298, 1384 ; iv 112, 311, 406, 626, 688, 
779, 787, 790, 794, 966, 1183, 1196, 1313, 1321, 1322, 1347, 1462, 1471, 
1485, 1489, 1516 ; v 398, 478, 769, 791, 854, 893, 894, 900, 918, 968, 
1544, 1545, 1640. 

'Including iv 1321 which wrongly reads, ''schal y«." 

' Written by two (contemporary) hands ; the second begins at m 231. 

* Including ni 660 which wrongly reads **y« shal." 

^ Including u 1114 which wrongly reads '^ he shal." 

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Even in the Campsall — ^which among the mss. of the 
Troilus enjoys the pre-eminence given to the Ellesmere in 
the Tale& — the abnormal "a ''-forms equal in number the 
normal "u ''-forms; and in all the other mss. the ^^a "-forms 
are greatly in the majority. 

The appearance, in even the best mss., of such a formid- 
able array of " a "-forms is impressive. It should be noted, 
however, that of the cases of shal in the Third Person no 
less than eight ^ occur in the phrases men shcU or ahal men. 
In these cases we are probably to recognize the idiomatic use 
with the indefinite pronoun already pointed out. Neverthe- 
less, even after these eight oases are accounted for, the 
problem of shaPs in the Troilus remains a perplexing one. 
When one proceeds to inquire concerning the relationship of 
these six mss., the difficulty is increased. For it will be 
observed that Camb. Gg., which, as Professor Skeat* has 
remarked, "exhibits a different type of text" from the others, 
is quite as liberal as the rest in the use of " a "-forms. Can 
the responsibility for these ungrammatical ^AoTs, then, be 
carried back to Adam Scriveyn himself, whose carelessness 
in copying the text of the Troilus is a matter of record ? 
This would be an easy solution of the problem — though we 
should then be forced to confess that Chaucer did not 
" rubbe and scrape " enough when he corrected his scribe's 
copy, — ^but the fact is that our present knowledge of the 
relations of the Troilus mss. is so incomplete as to make this 
conclusion perilous. If we had before us the long-promised 
collations by Professor McCormick of the still unprinted mss. 
it might be possible to reach a definite opinion in this matter. 
Meanwhile, I wish to call attention to the remarkable bit of 
evidence presented by Harl. 3943 — ^the ms. which so pro- 

» 1 122, 246 ; n 280, 1391 ; iv 1S47 ; v 791, 968, 1640. 
' Oxford Chancer, n, Ixx. 

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Yoked Professor Lounsbary's contempt.^ This MS. has been 
written by two scribes — the earlier hand about 1440. If 
we divide the cases of shcU and ahiU between these two scribes 
the result is startling : 

First hmnd...., 
Second hand. 

First Penon 

Second Person 


Third Person 


The r^ularity of the earlier scribe in writing shul is not 
approached, it will be seen, even by the Campsall M& How 
are we to explain these shuPs^ It is possible that a scribe 
writing as late as 1440 was such an accurate grammarian 
that he corrected the shaPs which had eluded the vigilant eye 
of Chauc^ when he went over Adam^s copy ? The improb- 
ability of this explanation is vastly increased when one notes 
that in other matters — ^metre, for example — ^this scribe makes 
sad blunders. The AuPa preserved in Harl. 3943, we must 
conclude, stood in the ks. from which this scribe copied. It 
is of interest, therefore, to collect any evidence which is 
obtainable as to the ancestry of this MS. 

From a collation of the larger part of the text of HarL 
3943 with the other printed mss. I find that the portion 
written by the earlier scribe shows remarkable agreement 
with Camb. Gg., against all the others. That it can not have 
been copied from 6g., however, is established by the fact 
that it contains lines (i 85, ii 616 and 1146) which in the 
latter are omitted. On the other hand, the portion of Harl. 
3943 written by the later hand was evidently copied from 
another original, for it ^ows no peculiar resemblances to 
Gg., but instead agrees with the others where they differ 
from the Cambridge MS. This statement may easily be tested 

^Studies in Chaucer^ I, 39S. 

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by taming to Book nr : from line 118 to 196 Htrl. 3943 (the 
older hand) and Gg. closely correspond^ but with line 197 
(where the new hand begins) these resemblances instantly 
eease. The two parts of HarL 3943 being thus quite dis- 
tinct — ^not only copied by different scribes but from different 
originals — ^it is clear that the authority of the two parts must 
be separately judged. 

It is not my intention to enter into the vexed question of 
the filiation of the Troilus less. — ^for the settlement of this 
we must await the publication of Professor Mccormick's 
researches. Our present inquiry is merely as to the trust- 
worthiness of the tradition transmitted by the first scribe of 
HarL 3943. It is possible to form some opinion on this 
point by comparing this scribe's text with that in Camb. 
Gg. It wiU be found that where these two agree they give 
ns for the most part excellent readings — in a number of 
cases readings which are to be accepted in preference to those 
found in any other MS. The effect of this comparison must 
be to increase our confidence in the textual tradition repre- 
sented in these two MSS. At the same time it affords us a 
valuable check upon the scribes who wrote these two extant 
MSB. by enabling us to detect, in large measure, the errors 
which they have themselves introduced into the text.^ The 
scribe of the Cambridge MB. especially, it is now seen, has 
been guilty of extreme carelessness. In some cases he has 
blundered most unintelligently. For example at i 404, 
IV 296 and v 640 he wrote '*tumement" instead of "tur- 
ment." That this error did not stand in his original may be 

>In discussing the relation between the first hand of Harl. 3943 and 
Gamb. Gg., in order to avoid complexity I have spoken as though these 
two scribes copied from the very same original. As a matter of fact there 
maj have been intermediaries between this original and the two extant 
MSB. The existence of snch intermediaries, however, would not affect the 
inference which we are basing upon the peculiar relationship which these 
MSB. exhibit. 

Digitized by 



inferred from the fetot that Harl. 3943 in the older portion 
(i 404) reads correctly. 

Let OS return now to the qvestion of the shuFs, which^ as 
we have seen, appear with such remarkable regularity in the 
older portion of Harl. 3943. This older portion, so far as I 
can judge^ derives from a particularly good original and has 
not been contaminated by any of the other extant Mss. . We 
have, then, good reason for accepting the shuPa in this text 
as fortunate survivals from earlier manuscript tradition. 
Indeed, it is difficult to see how they can be accounted for 
on any other basis, for fifteenth-century scribes, fitr from 
showing a tendency to displace ahaPa by shuTa, are every- 
where prone to write shcU even where it does not rightly 
belong. Camb. Gg. supplies a good illustration of this 
tendency. Though derived from the same original as Harl. 
3943, the Cambridge manuscript shows an overwhelming 
majority of ahdCa} All that can be said, in conclusion, as 
to Chaucer's use of ahal and ahd in the TroiluSy is that 
though the extant mss. as a whole show a liberal use of the 
incorrect "a ''-form, a single (and somewhat tenuous) line 
of tradition preserves the " u "-forms with remarkable regu- 
larity. Recent scholars * find reason for the opinion that the 
text of this poem was afterwards revised by Chaucer himself. 
It may be that such a revision — in which the sins of Adam 
would presumably be purged from the text — gives the solu- 
tion to the discrepancy in usage which confronts us. But no 
theory in regard to this can profitably be advanced until the 
readings of the unprinted mss. have been published. 

^ This fact is in itself a strong indication that there were intermediaries 
between Gg. and the HS. which served as the common ancestor of Gg. and 
Harl. 3943. For the Cambridge scribe does not show a uniform tendency 
to prevert sAuTs into jAcU's, as is attested by his copy of the Pari, cfF, and 
Group A of the OmL Tales, where the "u "-forms appear in overwhelming 

'See Tatlook, Devehpmeni and Chronology of Chaucer' 8 WorkSf p. 1. 

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The sitoation which meets us in the Legend of Good Women 
\&j if anTthingy more pozzling than that in the Troilus^ The 
eleven cases * which occur are divided between " a ''-forms 
and '^ XX "-forms in the six most important Mss. as follows : — 


BodL 638 


Trinity B. 3. 19. 
AddiL 28,617 *.« 
Cunb. Gg 

First PenoD | 

Second Penonj 

Third Person 

(< |^>» 



































Besides these six^ the Legend has been printed from Selden 
B. 24, as well as from fragmentary texts in three other MSS. 
The Selden MS., being the work of a Scottish scribe, sap- 
presses all the '^u'^-forms in the Legend as in the Pari, of F. 
For this reason I thought it hardly worth while to include it 
in the table. Similarly, the fragmentary MSS., Addit, 9,832 
(lines 1-1985) and Addit. 12,524 (lines 1640-end) show in 
every case the spelling " shall.^' Pepys 2,006 ("B^'), which 
breaks off at line 1377, reads " shair' at lines 12 and 281 
and ^' shull ^' at line 1088. In the Legend we meet again 
the phrase ^'men shaP^ at line 12; and here also all the 
liSS. agree in the use of the '' a ''-form with the indefinite 
pronoun. ^'Men shal '' also occurs at line 302 of the revised 
Prologue, found only in Camb. Gg. 

The ratio of "a "-forms in the Legendy it will be observed,, 
is certainly not lower than that found in TroUus. Moreover,, 
in the case of the Legend a special problem is presented by 
the double Prologue. Of the MSS. which contain the first 
form of the Prologue the earliest, as well as the best, are> 

^The following is a list of the caMS in the L, G. W.i 12, 281, 1088, 
1886, 1618, 1710, 1927, 2003, 2627, 2661, 2689. Two additional casea 
appear in the rerised Prologoe (Oamb. Qg. ) : 802, 864. 

' M& 18 yery incomplete. 

Digitized by 




Fairfax, Bodl. 638, and Tanner 346. These three compose 
what is known as the " Oxford group/' the first two manu- 
scripts being sisters and the third a cousin to the others. It 
becomes a matter of interest, therefore, to compare the usage 
of these three mss., not only in the Legend but in the other 
Minor Poems, in order to determine to what extent the 
scribes of the extant texts followed their original and to what 
extent they varied from it. 


Dethe of Blaunche. 
Compleynte to Pite 

Pari, of F. 

Hoasof Fame 

Leg. of G. W 


(Co '> <* 11 '' 




Bodl. 638 

Tanner 346 



10 I 1 

The essential agreement which this comparison discloses 
establishes the fact, important for our purpose, that the scribes 
of these mss. followed with reasonable fidelity the shaVs and 
ahurs of the lost archetype — which, however, as Miss Ham- 
mond has shown, "cannot very well date earlier than? 1415." ^ 

Camb. Gg., recent scholars agree, contains the revised 
form of the Prologue. If Chaucer in the course of this 
revision had come upon ungrammatical shaVs introduced 
into the text by the heedless Adam, one would suppose that 
he would have taken this opportunity to correct them. Yet 
if he made such corrections we shall look in vain for any 
trace of them in the extant manuscript. At line 281 of the 
Prologue in its earlier form we read, " ye shal here "; in the 
revision this passage was transferred to a position befoi*e the 
Balade, but we still read (at line 184) " ye shal here." 
Moreover, in the revision of the " gold in cofre " phrase 
(Fairfax 380), Camb. 6g. actually adds another instance of 

> Chaucer Bibliog. Mamud, p. 838. 

Digitized by 



the incorrect " a ''-form : " they shal hit profre " (364). To 
judge, then, from the extant text of the later prologue, one 
is likely to conclude that in the work of revision Chaucer's 
mind was taken up with other matters than grammar. 

Whatever our opinion may be on this point, we must 
conclude, I think, that the "a "-forms in the Legend of 
Good Women, as well as those in the Troilus, were introduced 
into the text very early. I think it not unlikely that they 
even proceed from Chaucer's own scribe. We have Chaucer's 
own word for it that Adam did a careless piece of work 
with the Troilvs. And, to judge from the extant MS., the 
scribe whom he employed to copy the Legend was equally 
careless — ^at least in the matter of sAoTs. On the other 
hand, we may suppose that the scribe employed to copy the 
Pari, of F, was a " pre- Adamite." This would enable us 
to account for the radical difference in shed and ahvl forms 
between the Parletnent on the one hand, and Troilus and the 
Legend — ^a difference which extends to widely separated Mss. 
like Camb. Gg. on the one hand and the Oxford group on 
the other. This explanation, I grant, is highly conjectural, 
but I am unable to put forward any other hypothesis which 
will account for the facts. 

On the whole the results gained thus far are instructive 
chiefly in providing new illustrations of the original sin of 
Adam. They show, at least, the large allowance which must 
be made for the scribe in considering the orthography of 
Chaucerian texts. In the Canterbury Tales, on the other 
hand, to which we turn next, the collation of sliaPa and 
ahuPs leads, I believe, to more positive results. By furnish- 
ing a new test which may be applied to the separate Tales it 
throws some light upon the problem of the evolution of the 

The tables which follow exhibit the cases of *^ a "-forms 
and " u "-forms respectively which appear in each of the 

Digitized by 




eight MSS. of the Cant. Talea printed by the Chauoer Society. 
In every ease I have arranged the Tales in the order of the 

EOeemere MS. 





Third Person 

Group A 








































Man of Law (with head-link) 

Wife of Bath 











Shipman-Prioress (inclnding 


Sir Thopas (no cases) 




Monk-Nun's Priest 

Second Nun 

Cftnon'ff Veoman... 


Parson , 


Hengwrt M8. 


it ^)) 






Group A 




































Wife of Bath 




Monk-Nun*s Priest 


Man of Law (with head-link) 




Second Nun 




Physician ... 




Shipman-Prioress......... ...... 

Meftbeus .......;..... 

Parson K 


^ Ms. defective. 

Digitized by 



Cambridge MS. Gg. 

Group A 

Man of Law (with head-link) 

Wife of Bath 











Monk-Nun's Priest 

Second Nun 

CSanon's Yeoman 



First Person 

i< o " <( n '' 

Second Person 






Third Person 






*M8. defectiTe. 

'Including line 939 where MS. wronglj reads "schal toe,*' 

Corpus MS. 







Group A.... 





























Man of Law (with head-link) 
Squire ( and M. of L. end-link) 
Wife of Bath* 











Second Nun 


Oanon's Yeoman 


Phjsician , 







Monk.Nun's Priest 





^Ms. incomplete. 

Digitized by 




Petworth MS. 

Group A 



Man of Law ( with head -link ^ 
Squire (andM.of Keod-liok) 


Wife of Bath 





Second Nun 

Canon's Yeoman 




Monk-Nun*8 Priest 


Parson < 

First Person | 

Second Person] 


** a" 


































1 1 











2 1 
















1 4 










* Ms. defective. 

'Including A 1747 where MS. wrongly reads *^ke shul." 

Lansdowne 318. 

Group A 


Man of Law (with head-link ) 
Squire (and M. of L. end-link) 

Wife of Bath 






Second Nun 

Canon's Yeoman 





Monk-Nun's Priest 



First Person 

Second Personj 
























Third Person 







* Including line 678 where MS. wrongly reads **8che schal.'* 

* Including G 1105 where ifS. wrongly reads " we schal.** 

' Including F 1474 where MS. wrongly reads ** «cA« schol.*' 

Digitized by 



HarL MS. 733 4. 

Group A 


Man of Law (with head-link) 

Wife of Bath 






Franklin » 

Second Nun..., 

Canon's Yeoman 





Monk-Nun's Priest , 

Manciple , 


First Person 

Second Person 

H Q II ((„ II 






Third Person 











^ Ms. incomplete. 

^ Including B 1176 in Man of Law's end-link. 

Cawbridge Dd. 4.. 24, 

Group A *. 

Man of Law (with head-link) 

Wife of Bath 












Second Nun 

Canon's Yeoman' 

First Person | 

Second Person] 




it II 









































i » 







» Ms. lacks A 505-1931. 
'Ms. breaks off at G 853. 

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Perhaps the most striking fact disclosed by these tables is 
the extraordinary regularity of Camb. Dd. in the use of 
"u "-forms. For the entire Camt. Tales — or rather, since this 
MS. is defective, for the, Tales as far as this MS. extends — 
Camb. Dd. shows only 11 cases of shed. The MS. which 
stands next to Dd. in this respect is Corpus, but in this 
MS. — comparing only the portions common to Dd. — one 
finds 31 bKoPb} Harl. 7334 comes just after Corpus with 
37 shxiVs. 

The question at once arises, whether the "u "-forms in 
Dd. are traditional or whether they are the result of scribal 
alteration. In favor of r^arding them as traditional is the 
fact that Dd. is an early text, and one of the best, of the 
Card. Tales. On the other hand, the fact that in Dd., out 
of a total of 157 instances of the plural form, one finds 
no less than 134 times the spelling ahvln — a spelling very 
infrequent in nearly all the other MSB. — ^awakens the sus- 
picion that this uniformity is attributable to the Dd. scribe 
himself.^ Moreover, Camb. Dd. belongs to the class of 
" edited " texts, as they have been termed by Henry Brad- 
shaw and Professor Skeat, that is, texts in which the order 
of Tales has been changed, and the links which bind them 
together adjusted, by a post-Chaucerian editorial hand. It 
would be hazardous, therefore, to rely upon the " u ''-forms 
in Dd. as traditional, when they do not appear in mss. which 
are believed to represent the older arrangement of the Tales. 

1 Through defects in the text of the Wife's and the Franklin's Tales the 
Corpus HS. has lost four instances of the word. Coanting all these as 
sAoTs, howey^, we should have atota^of onlj 35. 

'On comparing Zupitza's print of the Pardoner's Prologue and Tale 
from the seven mbs. which make up the *' Dd. group" one observes that 
the spelling shvln is peculiar to Dd. Since the other mss. of this group 
are not, in Zupitza's opinion, derivatives from Dd. it follows that thvln was 
not the spelling in the archetype of the group. 

Digitized by 



On the other hand, it is obvious that a considerable num- 
ber of the "a "-forms which appear in other Mss. do not 
go back to the archetype bat have been subsequently intro- 
duced through scribal carelessness. The Lansdowne ms. is 
the greatest o£fender in this respect ; here we find that the 
abnormal "a "-forms actually outnumber the "u "-forms.* 
Aside from this constitutional tendency on the part of the 
Lansdowne scribe, one finds also in the other manuscripts 
sporadic a^s which are unsupported elsewhere. In order to 
eliminate so £sir as possible ihe '^ a "-forms which have crept 
into the text through the carelessness of these scribes let us 
leave out of consideration all those which are not supported 
by at least four mss. Where four of the eight texts agree in 
writing shed instead of shvl it seems reasonable to suspect 
that this may have been the reading of the archetypal manu- 
script. In the following table I follow the line numbering 
of the C!haucer Society prints. The tales are arranged in 
the order of the Hengwrt ms., which Professor Skeat believes 
represents Chaucer's original arrangement. The figures in 
parenthesis show the number of texts which agree in the 

^ The most conspicaons example of this tendency on the part of the 
Lansdowne scribe is presented in the Tale of Gbmeljn, where, the over- 
whelming proportion of sAuTs shown in Corp. Petw. and Harl. 7334, is 
actually converted by Lansd. into a majority of dwJPs ( 16 to 6). 

Digitized by 




A Lid of the " A ^'-fo'i'ms which appear in four or more of 
the ^^ Eight-4ext'^ Canterbury Tales 

Firet Person 

Second Peraon 

Third Peraon 

Group A 

3581 (4) 
3902 (4) 

27fi4 (5) 
4364 (6) 

2541 (6) 

mm\ (6) 
4174" (7) 


' 2262(4) 



[209] (7) 

Man of Law 

H29 (7) 
349 (7) 
749 (6) 

547 (S) 


188 (6) 




1231 (6) 
1336 (4) 

Second Nun 

182 (4) 

Clerk « 


1204 M8) 


798 (6) 

618 (6) 

383 (5) 
[418] (7) 


2504 (4) 
2509 (5) 

[2207] (4) 
[2248] (5) 


538 (4) 

193 (5) 

[308] (4) 
[3821 (4) 
[527] (4) 

» Dialect use of **8al." 

*'*A" likewise in Sion Coll., Rawl. Poet., McCormick, Harl. 1239, 
Naplee, Holkham, Longleat, and Phillipps 8299. 

Digitized by 



It should be explained that the nine cases in the Third 
Person which I have placed in brackets are occurrences of 
the phrase " men shal/^ upon which I have already com- 
mented. This phrase being as I have shown idiomatic, 
these cases really should not be included in this list. In 
glancing over this table one is struck at once by the excep- 
tional occurrence of "a'^-forms in Group A* and in the 
Man of Law's Tale. The four "a ''-forms in Melibeus out 
of a total of sixty-four, as well as the two in the Parson's 
Tale out of a total of seventy-one, are wholly negligible. 
Absolute regularity in the use of ahid and ahal is too much 
to expect from the best of fourteenth-century scribes. In 
Group A, on the other hand, out of a total of fifteen cases 
there remain nine " a "-forms ; and in the Man of Law's 
Tale with eight cases in all, seven " a "-forms remain, and 
these are attested by not less than six of the eight texts. It 
will be observed further that the Squire's Tale, out of a total 
number of three cases, shows two " a "-forms. 

This predominance of "a "-forms in the Man of Law's 
and the Squire's Tales has an important bearing upon the 
question of the position of these two Tales in the Canterbury 
collection. An overwhelming majority of the extant Mss. 
agree in placing the Squire immediately after the Man of 
Law. And Professor Skeat, in his recent attempt to trace the 
different stages in the evolution of the Canterbury Tales,* 
holds that the Man of Law-Squire sequence was not only 
a part of Chaucer's original scheme but continued intact 
through the first three stages. The discovery in the texts 
of these two Tales, now, of a conspicuous fondness for 

^ I am not forgetful of the fact that in four mss., viz., Camb. Gg., Elles- 
mere, Harl. 7334, and Camb. Dd., instead of a* majority of shcJ^s one finds 
the majority strongly on the side of shul. A possible explanation for this 
change will be suggested below. 

« The Eoolalhn of the CanUrbtiry ToUs, Chaucer Soc, 1907, p. 17. 

Digitized by 



^^ a "-forms supplies an additioDal reason for linkiDg them 
together. If it be true, as recent scholars believe, that the 
Tales circulated at first in fascicules, it would be easy to 
suppose that the Man of Law*8 Tale and the Squire's stood 
together in a single fascicule. Further color is given to this 
suggestion by the occurrence of shed at B 1176 in the link 
connecting the Man of Law's and Squire's Tales.* One 
finds, then, that the form alial is characteristic not only of 
these two Tales but of the link which joins them. These 
ahaPQ, moreover, must go back to an early scribe since they 
appear in such a large number of manuscripts. In short, 
the situation which actually presents itself is precisely what 
one would expect to find if the Man of Law's Tale and the 
Squire's had been copied by an *^ a "-scribe and put into 
circulation in a single fascicule. 

In passing it may be worth while to call attention to the 
fact that the shaPs stand not only in the Tale of the Man of 
Law but in the head-link which precedes it (B 98). This 
observation has a certain negative value in connection with 
the view which has been expressed, that Chaucer wrote the 
Tale of Constance as a separate poem before he had the 
Canterbury collection in mind. If one had found shui in 
the head-link and shed in the Tale it would have given sup- 
port to this view by suggesting that they were written by 
different scribes and so presumably belonged to different 
strata. The occurrence of aAoTs, on the other hand, in both 

^ This Mao of Law-Sqnire link (B 1163-1190) is found in no less than 
21 Mss., though not all of them use it to connect these two Tales. Seld. B. 
14 makes it link to the Shipman, and Harl. 7334 follows it hy the Wife of 
Bath, though with ohvious confusion since the link itself (according to this 
MS.) introduces the Sompnour. The form shed is strongly supported by 
the MSB. which contain this link, occurring in 15 of the 21, while shtd 
appears in only 3. The remaining three substitute here a wholly different 

Digitized by 



head-link and Tale does not, of oonrse, overthrow this hjpo- 
theais, for it is quite possible to regard these ^' a ''-forms as 
originating with the scribe who wrote this fascicule. 

The Man of Law-Squire fascicule as it stands breaks off 
abruptlj in the middle of a sentence. The scribe laid down 
his pen only two lines after writing " Incipit pars tercia/' — 
one wonders why he b^an the Third Part at all if he had 
only two lines of copy before him. Is it possible that the 
unfinished state of the Squire's Tale is not due to Chaucer 
bat to the scribe ? The only other instance in ihe Canter- 
bury Tales of such an abrupt ending, curiously enough, 
occurs at the end of Group A — which likewise was written 
by a shal scribe — ^perhaps the same person. That practically 
all the M68. preserve unbroken the sequence : Prol., Knight, 
Miller, Reeve, Cook, though from this point on they vary 
greatly in the order of the Tales, makes it certain, I believe, 
that Group A composed a separate fascicule. Directly follow- 
ing Group A — ^in seventeen Hss. — is the Tale of Gramelyn. 
In Gamelyn, is to be observed, the shuPs are preserved with 
exceptional rq^larity,^ showing conclusively that it was not 
copied by the shal scribe who wrote Group A. The juxta- 
position of Group A and Ghunelyn, therefore, supplies another 
important piece of evidence for the fiiscicule theory. Finally, 
as if to make the transition from ^^ u "-forms to ^^ a "-forms 
as sharp as possible, twelve of the HSS. which contain the 
Gbunelyn follow it immediately by the Man of Law's Tale 
with its shaPs. 

But by what right, one may very properly ask, is Group 

^ An exception to this statement should be noted in the case of Lans* 
downe, which makes havoc with the '* a "-forms in Qameljn, leaving only 
six of them against sixteen '' a "-forms. This preference for '' a^-forms, 
however, characterizes the Lansdowne MS. throughout the whole of the 
OaaU, Taletf as has already been remarked. Its treatment of Qamelyn, 
tharefore, is in accord with the general usage of this scribe. 

Digitized by 



A assigned to the shal scribe when in four mss. — Ellesmere, 
Harl. 7334, Camb. Gg. and Dd.— the <^ a ''-forms are dis- 
tinctly outnumbered by "u ''-forms? This raises again the 
question which was touched upon above in commenting 
upon Dd.'s peculiar fondness for " u "-forms. EUesmere, 
Camb. Gg. and Dd., though excellent mss., give us what is 
regarded as an "edited" text of the Cant Tales. The 
arrangement of the Tales which one finds in these manu- 
scripts is supposed to be the work of an editorial hand. In 
these MSS. the Man of Law-Squire sequence — so illuminating 
in its bearing upon the fascicule theory — has been broken. 
In Harl. 7334 also the Man of Law-Squire sequence is 
broken, and the Squire's Tale transferred to tlie same posi- 
tion which it holds in the "edited" text. Moreover, scholars 
agree that this Harleian manuscript presents a "revised" 
form of the text — though opinion is divided as to whether 
this revision was the work of Chaucer or that of an editor. 
It is highly significant now, it seems to me, to discover that 
the very mss. which break the Man of Law-Squire sequence 
convert the larger number of shoT^ into shuFs. It is clear, 
therefore, that the question of these shaPs and shiPs is 
directly connected with the problem of the order of the 
Canterbury Tales, and particularly with that presented by 
the "revision" in Harl. 7334. Obviously these larger 
problems lie beyond the scope of the present investigation, 
even though they are directly related to it. My present 
object is attained in calling attention to the fact that such 
relationship exists. 

Carleton Brown. 

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A popular allegorical subject in the Middle Ages was that 
which represented the struggle of the good and evil powers 
for the possession of man's soul. Frequently the evil power 
is centralized in the devil or his procurator, and the contest 
is excited by the harrowing of Hell and the release of the 
damned souls by Christ. According to some of the Church 
Fathers, the devil had certain rights over man after the first 
sin, a right which was the more legitimate since it was 
sanctioned by Grod himself. The whole subject is closely 
connected with the dogmatic traditions of the Church 
concerning the redemption.^ In the twelfth century, Hugo 
of St. Victor in his commentary on the fifteenth Psalm 
gives an account of a dispute between Christ and Satan, in 
which the devil asserts his right to man as having been 
consigned to him afl«r the Fall.^ We find this reproduced 
in an Italian version of the thirteenth century entitled Piato 
dd Dio col Nemico,^ According to other versions, the 
Virgin Mary undertook the defense of man against the 
claims of the devil. This idea was a product of the worship 
of the Virgin which affected so many of the doctrines of the 
Church. As the protecting Mother of sinners, she was the 
natural adversary of the forces of evil. Mary, the Queen 
of Heaven, was thus contrasted with Lucifer, the independ- 
ent ruler of Hell. In certain cases, the story represents a 

^ See Boderich Stintzing, OeaehiehU der poptddren LUercUur dea kanonueh 
romischen Bechts in DetUaehland, pp. 259-271 ; Roediger, Contrasti Antickij 
Florence, 1887, p. 95 ; BoskofiP, OeaehiehU des Tetrfela^ Vol. i, p. 228. 

' Hugo : MiflC AnnoUUumes Eheidaiorvz in quwdom PaalmM David^ Cap. 
xn. Migne, clxzvii, pp. 596-7. 

'Edited by F. Boediger, OoniragH Antichi, Florence, 1887. 


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trial scene in which Christ appears as the judge, the Virgin 
Mary as the advocate of mankind and Mascaron, the deviPs 
procurator, as the plaintiflT. This version is found in three 
texts, Dutch, Latin, and Catalan, which show marked 

The Dutch version forms a part of the poem entitled 
Merlijny attributed to Jacob van Maerlant,^ Chap, vm-xin, 
and composed about the year 1261.* The account there 
given is as follows. The devils, seeing that they have been 
deprived of their prey by the harrowing of Hell, call a 
council and choose Masceroen to go before God as their 
procurator and lay claim to mankind. He presents himself 
before Christ and asks for justice. Christ examines his 
credentials, in which mankind is summoned to hear the 
procurator's demands, and appoints Good Friday for the 
hearing of the case. Masceroen protests against ihe 
appointment of a holy day, but his objection is not admitted. 
On returning to Hell, he tells his companions how miserably 
he has fared, but Lucifer, despite his protests, bids him 
return early on ihe following day. In the heavenly court 
he chooses a high place and waits. When at midday no one 
has appeared to answer his claims, he goes before God and 
demands the judgment by de&ult. Gt)d, however, silences 
him by saying that the case is set for the evening. As night 
approaches, Masceroen again becomes impatient and cries 
loudly : " Lord, where is justice, which, men say, dwells in 
Heaven?" (Jod postpones the trial until the next day, and 

^ Jacob van Maerkm^s Merlijn, ed. by yan Vloten, Leideo, 1880. The 
relation of this yersion to the allegory of the Four Daughters of Gk)d, or 
Proci^ de Dieu, has been entudied by Miss Hope Traver in her monograph. 
The Four Daughten of Ood, Philadelphia, 1907. I am indebted to this 
work for many suggestions. 

'Jan de Winkel in jPemiTs Onsndrisi der germaniacKen FhMogit^ n, i, 458 
and 465. 

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Masoeroen again returns to Hell in difloomfitore and is 
again forced by Lucifer to prosecate his claim on the morrow. 
Meanwhile the Virgin Marj^ feeling a mother's sorrow 
for mankind, offers herself as advocate, at which there is 
great rejoicing among the angels. When the hoar comes, 
God takes his place in his consistory, surrounded by count- 
less hosts of angels, patriarchs and prophets, and when 
Mary, attended by a multitude of angels, has entered and 
seated herself beside her son, the trial b^ins. She asserts 
her readiness to answer for man and challenges Masoeroen 
to present his daim. He, unable to raise his eyes to the 
brightness of her glory, turns firetfidly to Qody saying : ^' In 
every case there must be three : the judge, the plaintiff, and 
the defendant You are the judge, I the plaintiff, but I do 
not see the guilty one.'' Mary interposes with a second 
assertion of her intention to act as man's representative, but 
Masceroen objects, saying : ^^ It is contrary to all justice that 
a woman act as advocate ; besides, she is your mother and 
bound by kinship." Mary indignantly replies, and after 
much opposition, she is recognized as advocate. Then fol- 
lows prolonged argument, Masceroen seeking to establish 
his right to man and Mary insisting that his right has been 
lost and forfeited to Christ. Masceroen then takes from his 
pocket a Bible and quotes Genesis ii, 17, and presses his 
claim so hard that Mary, weeping, begs her Son to help her. 
Moved by her distress, He would dismiss Masceroen, but 
the latter suggests a compromise. ^^ I will take my speech 
fix>m the Scriptures and confirm it by heathen law. When 
there is strife between two parties, what does the judge do 
but make a division? Therefore give to me the evil, to 
your mother the good. Put mankind in the scale. Her 
part will be bitterly small." Christ is about to yield, but 
Mary cries that the weighing has already been done through 
the death of her son. Thereupon Masceroen demands advo- 

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catesj and chooses Justice and Truth. The angels urge 
Mary to likewise choose advocates, and she decides upon 
Mercj and Peace. The four virtues appear and the debate 
is given over to them. Gerechtecheit and Waerheit would 
condemn man without pity, but Ontfermecheit would give 
pardon to the repentant sinner. Yrede then proves that 
God's sentence of death upon those who had eaten the apple 
has already been accomplished, since before this sin, man 
was immortal. She then claims that David's prophecy be 
fiilfiUed, in that Ontfermecheit and Waerheit meet and she 
and Gerechtecheit kiss. This is granted, whereupon Masce- 
roen in rage and dismay flees to Hell, where eternal enmity 
is vowed against Christ. 

As was pointed out by Miss Traver,^ the story is a com- 
bination of three separate elements : (1) a trial scene in 
which the Virgin and Satan's representative contend for the 
possession of man; (2) the motive of the scales in which 
man's good and evil deeds are weighed; (3) the debate 
between the four virtues, two of whom condemn man and 
two plead in his behalf.* It is only with the first of these 
elements, the trial scene, with which we are here concerned. 

No definite source is known for this Dutch version. 
Inasmuch as the Merlijn is for the most part merely a trans- 
lation of the French MerliUy it is reasonable to believe that 
Maerlant also followed a French original in this episode. 
Miss Traver sums up as follows her investigation of the 
source. " When one remembers that Maerlant for the rest 
of the poem, was merely a translator, one must doubt 
whether the credit for inventing the ^Processus Belial' 
belongs to him. I cannot but feel, therefore, that an earlier 

> Op, eU.f p. 55. 

' See Mifls Trayer's monograph for a study of the allegory of the Four 
Daughters of Qod, or ProcH de Dieu, based upon Psalm Izzxiv, 11, 
Miierieordia d Veritas obviaverwU nbi; JuatUia et Pax osetiloto funL 

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mascab6n and meblijn 36 

version of similar character must have existed in either 
Latin, Spanish or French, and that from this the all^ory 
in Merlijn was derived," ^ 

About one hundred years after Maerlant, another Nether- 
landish poem appeared which repeats almost exactly the 
above-mentioned episode of the Merlijn. This is the Mds^ 
cheroen,^ which may have been written by Jan Boendale, a 
disciple of Maerlant Only two important changes occur. 
The council of devils with which the scene in MerUjn opens 
is preceded in the Mascheroen by another council in which 
the devils, dismayed that their efforts to tempt Christ were 
vain, learned through studying the Scriptures that the object 
of the incarnation is the redemption of man through the 
death of Christ, and accordingly planned to prevent His 
death by sending a vision to Pilate's wife. The other 
instance where the two poems materially differ is in the 
arguments employed by the four Virtues, and need not con- 
cern us here. 

Stintzing^ mentions two Latin versions which offer a 
striking similarity to the account contained in Merlijn. The 
first, entitled Processus judidarius^ begins : AceessU Mas- 
caron ad dei omnipotentis prcesenciam et ait, etc., and ends 
thus : Litigado Ma/nscaron (sic) contra genus humanum finit 
feliciter.^ The second has as heading : lAbellus procuratoris 
in quo dyaholus produdt litem coram judice omnipotente deo 
contra genus humanum, pro quo beata virgo Maria tanquam 
procuratrix et advocata comparens tandem pugnam obtinuit 

* Op. dLf p. 62. 

' F. A. Snellaert, Nederlandache OedichUn uit de veertiende eeuwy van Jan 
BoendaUf Hein van Aken, en anderen, Brussels, 1S69, pp. Iziii-lxzYiii and 
493-549. It is found in a manuscript in the Bodleian Library, Marshall 
GolL, Na 32, of the late fourteenth century. 

*0p. at, p. 266. 

*I hare not been able to see a copy of this Fersion, which formed a part 
of Stintzing's own collection. 

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d irdmiei vereuciam oonfudU. It begins : Acoessit A9caron 
ad omnipotentis dei prceserUiam et aity etc., and ends thus : 
clemena o pia o duUAs Maria. Amen. Venetiis per Gerar- 
dom de Flandria. 1478.^ 

The aocount b^ins with the appearance of the procuraior 
infemaMs nequUicBj who is called in the first, Mascaron, and 
in the second, Ascaron. Aside from this, the two versions 
agree in the main. The trial scene is interlarded with count- 
less citations of Roman and Caoon law, so that the purpose 
of juristic instruction is plainly evident. Near the end of 
the narrative, when Mascaron feels that he is hard pressed, 
he asks for the assistance of two advocates. Justice and 
Truth. On the advice of the angels, Mary chooses Mercy 
and Peace to aid her, and, as in Merlijn, the case is brought 
to an end by Peace. Stintzing believed that the name Mas- 
caron gives us a clue to the source of the account. He says 
that Mascaron in Spanish and French names means FraJtzert- 
gmckt. The root word mascra, i/icwca, Larve (mask) whence 
'maacara (personatorvm turba^ according to Du Cange) 
has thus passed from Arabic into Romance, for in 
Arabic Masohara means PosaeMpid. Thus the name leads 
us to France or Spain. ^^Ist man iiberdies versncht, in 
manchen Wendungen der Rede den Einfluss orientalischer * 
Vorstellungen zu erkennen, so mochte man den Ursprung 
der Schrifl in Spanien vermuthen."^ In considering this 
version. Miss Traver arrived at the same conclusion : " This 
name implies a Spanish origin for these versions, and I have 
found references to a Spanish version called Mascaron, but 
have not succeeded in finding any copy of these versions or 
any information as to their date or character." * 

* I owe to the kindness of Prof. A. L. Stiefel a transcript of a copy of 
this version which is foond in the Stadtbibliothek of Munich. In study- 
ing this Tersion, I shall designate it by the name Aicaron. 

« Op. cU.^ p. 266. » Op. ctt., p. 61. 

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ma8CAb6k akd meblijn 37 

The Spanish versioD, in reality Catalan^ the existence of 
which was soepected by Stintzing and Miss Traver, has been 
published in the Colecd&n de Documentos inidUoa del Archivo 
general de la Corona de AragoUy VoL xiii, pp. 107-117, 
edited by D. Pr6spero de Bofiairull y Mascar6, Mild y 
Fontenals speaks of it as follows in his Origenea del teotro 
oaialdn: '^T6canos mencionar ahora an docnmento de nuestra 
literatnra, no porque le juzguemos mis antiguo que el mis- 
terio de que lu^o hablaremos, sino porque ofrece la forma 
de transici6n que oonsideramos anterior & la de los misterios. 
Tal es el Ma8car6n, obra conservada en c6dices de San Cucu- 
fiite y de Eipoll, escrita hacia fines del siglo. La semejanza 
de argumento con los autos castellanos y muy especialmente 
con el de La Besidencia del hombre de principios del siglo 
XVI, y la forma del relato en que intervienen y dialogan el 
demonio Mascar6n, oomo acusador del linaje humano, el 
Criador como juez y Nuestra Sefiora como abogada, asemejan 
esta obra & los verdaderos misterios, y aun se ha supuesto 
con visos de verosimilitud que estaba destinado & ser reci- 
tado por diferentes personas, siendo una de ellas la encargada 
de la parte del narrador ; creemos que si se recit6 en pdblico, 
lo fu4 por un lector solo. No se opone en rigor d la recita- 
ci6n altemada el que la parte narrativa sea muy extensa y en 
nada manifieste que se dirige & espectadores, ni menos el que 
la designaci6n de los personajes estd puesta en boca del nar- 
rador (E dix lo Criador . • • E dix la advocade . • .), pero 
bI, & nuestro ver, una circunstancia al parecer minuciosa : las 
palabras de un interlocutor estdn una vez interrumpidas por 
el narrador : Yo, dix Mascaron, demanam si es algu,'' etc.^ 

It is difficult to believe that this version was intended to 
be recited, although it is possible that its source was a 
primitive form of mystery play, and that the form which 

1 Obrca compUtaa, Vol. vi, Barcelona, 1896, pp. 216. 

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we have is a remaniemeni in Darrative style. It is unfortu- 
nate that Mil& 7 Fontanals did not state clearly to what 
century MascarSn might be attributed. The editor of the 
text ascribes the manuscript to the end of the fourteenth or 
beginning of the fifteenth century. Jos^ Sol y Padris, who 
first mentioned it, says that the manuscript is of the end of 
the thirteenth or beginning of the fourteenth century.^ 

The Catalan version narrates merely the suit of Mascaron 
against mankind, which is defended by the Virgin Mary, 
but the trial scene is not so fully developed as in the Dutch 
and Latin versions. The element of weighing the good and 
evil deeds of mankind does not appear, nor is any mention 
made of the participation in the case of the Four Daughters 
of God. The juristic element was not fully developed, 
although one can see how the account ofiered material 
capable of serving as a model of legal procedure. In many 
passages, there is absolute agreement. I wish to point out 
some of the most striking parallel passages in the Catalan, 
Dutch and Latin versions. I shall designate the Catalan 
text as Mascaroriy the Dutch as Merlyn, and the Latin text 
which I have used as Aaoaron. I have not attempted to 
correct the Catalan text, which, as Morel-Fatio * has said, is 
erbdrmlich incorrekt. I shall take up later the introduction 
in the Catalan text, which does not appear in the other 

The devils hold a council and send a procurator to appear 
before God. 

Mascabgn. E per tal com les dites raons los dits dimonis vaereiiM 
escamits e enganats, hordonaren e feren 1 procarador per 
nom Mascaron, 1 demoni molt savi e discret e estelati que 
en la presenoia del fil de Dea ana legir plejt denant aquel 
contra lomenal linatje. 

^ Biblioteca de autores espalioUSf Vol. n, p. 152n. 

* Onmdrii8 der romcmisehen Philologies Vol. n, 2, p. S8. 

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masoar5n and mebujn 39 

Mbbujn, 11 2013-23. 

Doe die Dovele zagen daemaren 
Dat Z7 aldas bespottet waren, 
Doe riepen zi te samene gereede 
Alle die hellesche quaethede, 
Ende koren onder hem alien daer 
Enen procureere scalck ende zwaer, 
Die was geheten Masceroen ; 
Dien wart befolen al hoer doen 
Ende dat hi sonde yaren mede 
In Onses Heren jegenwordichede, 
Gelijck dat procureere plegen. 

This is followed in Mdscaron and Merlijn by casuistical 
arguments to justify the appearance of the procurator of 
Hell as a plaintiff before God. The arguments agree in 
the main in the two texts, but are more fully developed in 
Merlijn. This introduction is not found in Ascaron. 

Mascaron then appears in the presence of God and de- 
mands a hearing. 

Mascabok. E Creador de totes coses, tu es vera justicia e jo son procura- 
dor de tota la inquesia infernal. E pux que tu es vera jus- 
ticia e dins tu es nade e de tu es axida, placia a tu quern 
yules hoyr en justicia. E diz lo Creador — si tu es procura- 
dor, mostrem la tua procuracio e fern daquela plena fe e 
plena justicia. 

MzRUJH, U. 2049-55. 

'* schepper, ende aller dinge gerechtecheit, • 

Ick ben procureere aire qnaetheit 
Van der Hellen, dy moet genoegen des, 
Want dy van der Gerechticheit angeboren es 
Mj te hoeren, alse bode der Hellen." 
Onse Here antworde den fellen : 
" Bistu procureere, toge dine brieve nu." 
AscABON. Accessit Ascaron ad omnipotentis dei praesentiam et ait : 
Creator omnium, nbique iusticia ? Ego sum procurator totius 
nequicie infemalis; placeat iusticie dignator me audire. 
Cni dominus ait : Si tu es procurator, ezhibe procuratorium. 

Mascaron replies : 

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Mascabon. E espos (sio) Mascaron procarador al Creador— jo primera- 

ment vol infernar sobre 1 gran article qui tocha lo mesels de 

totes les penes infemals e feta aquesta infemacio, jo mostrare 

cane de ma procuracio. 
Mbbluh, 1L 2056-60. 

Masceroen seide : **Ick wille eer in 

BevToeden op een punte wel hoge, 

Die roert die gene al onse Termoge 

Die in der Hellen sijn, ende op dat 

Beziet onse procoracie uu ter stat.'* 
AsoABON. Bespondit procurator. Volo te informare super quodam 

arduo articulo qui tangit medullitus omnes inferos et infor- 

matione facta, ezhibebo procuratorium. 

God then threatens to turn the procurator out of Heaven 
if he does not show at once his credentials, and Mascaron 
thereupon shows his paper. 

Masgabok. E lo demon! tement lo Creador lo qual no vae que 11 fo 
jutge forable, mostra con era fet procurador de tota la 
iniquitat infernal e perlant axi com a umenalment pot hom 
perlar, la carta fo feta axi bastant e sofecientment que en 
alguna manera in pert no avia defaliment ne la pogera hom 
anullar en nula manera. 

Mebujk, 1L 2069-74. 

Dese ontsach den rechter doer das 
Ombe dat by des onwillech was ; 
Dus toende by die procuracie, zijn teken 
Daer wj af gemeenleke spreken, 
Dat herde wel gedicbtet was dan, 
Dat daer niet te beteme was an. 
ASOABOK. Qui formidans iudicem, quem sibi gratum non yidebat, ez- 
hibuit procuratorium. Et ut more bumano loquamur, sic 
snfficienter factum quod in nulla ipsius parte patiebatur 

The devil then makes a formal claim for all the souls 
which had been released hj the redemption, and asks that 
mankind be summoned to hear the suit. He wishes to 
recover possession, not only of all the souls in Heaven and 
Purgatory, but also of all those born and to be bom. The 
Creator replies : 

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majbcab6k and mebluk 41 

Mabcabon. E diz lo Creadoiv-jo te be entes to demoni demanes que na 

fet dia asignrnt al umanal linatje que respona a la taa de- 

Mkklijk, U. 2105-06. 

Qnae Here sprack : ^* ick hore wel djr, 

Da begeres enen dach daer by." 
Abcaboh. Bespondit dominns : Aadiai te. Modo agatur de die. 

The procurator urges that a day be at once assigned for 
the hearings and Grod names Grood Friday. 

Mascabov . £ respos lo Creador al dit procarador infernal — fil de demoni 
e de dapnado iniqaida e faloedat malyat demoni tu caaent 
• del oel e si ereto lo mig del oel e de la terra jo a ta al 
nmenal linatje angnat sert die a comparer denant mi, 90 ee 
a saber lo direnree sant de la mia pado en lo qoal jo fay 

Meblun, 1L 2113-21. 

Doe sprack Onse Here ende zeide : 
''Bone dee Tiants ende aire qaaetbdde, 
Verdomede scalck, al vallende onwaerde 
Hevesta gemeten toascen hemel ende aerde, 
Ick legge dy dach alse procareere gerede, 
Ende den menschdiken geslechte te komene mede 
Vor mi als tot enen sekeren dage 
Alae in den hdligen yrydage, 
Op den wdcken ick gecracet was." 
Abcabon. Bespondit dominns d : Dyabole fill iniqnitatis et ingratito- 
dinis nee nnrnm damnate neqaam, tam dto mensurasti inter- 
rallnm inter cdam et terram, unde assigno diem oertam tibi 
ad reepondendam hie coram me scilicet diem veneris sanc- 
tam, in qoa f ai orndfizos. 

The procurator refuses to accept a festival day, but God 
is unwilling to change his decision. 

Masoabon. E respoe Mascaron — jo aqnez dia nol pren cor en aytal dia 
nol podia nul horn ans hon que sia es feriat. £ respos lo 
Creador — jo e fets los drets axi jo dispon e yul que sia aquel 

Mjkkluk, 1L 2122-26. 

Masceroen antworde te hant na das : 

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'' Dien dach ick niet ontfangen sal 
Want dien dach viert men overal." 
Onse Here sprack : *' ick makede dat recht 
Ende ick latet hierop nu ende echt." 
Abcabon. Respondit procarator: Istam diem non accepto, quia est 
ubilibet feriata. Beapondit dominas : ego iara oondidi. Sic 
hoc dispono. 

Grod then summons the angel Gabriel and bids him send 
for mankind. 

Mascabon. £ de continent lo Creador apela lo beneyt angel Gabriel e 
dizli — aparela tot humanal linatje que conparega soficient- 
ment e sia que vega e no sera anantat en aquest negosi axi 
com orde de dret e de rao ho requer. ^ 

Meblijn, IL 2127-29. 

'' Gbibriel, roep des menschen diet 
Dat zi komen tesen dage ; en komen si niet, 
Men sal voert dat recht doen scinen.'' 
AscARON. gabriel, voca genus humanum ut compareat sufficienter, et 
siue compareat siue non, procedetnr ut ius dictabit. 

The procurator then returns to Hell and relates how he 
has fared. The devils are very angry, but Lucifer com- 
mands him to appear on the following day to prosecute the 
suit. Mascaron consents, but adds that he would rather be 
tortured than appear again before God. 

Mascaron. E respos Mascaron — ^jo mes amaria aci estar crucificat e tur- 
mentat cruelment que comparer denant lo Creador en lo qual 
es tot gojg e tota alegria en nula manera quant yej% aytal 
goyg, non pux al^rar ans hom mes lo veg lo dit goyt e mes 
e de dolor e de turment e de pena, mas enpero axi com aquel 
a qui jo son tengut de hobejr, fare com que mes. 

Meblijk, 11. 2144-52. 

Masceroen zeide : "ick hadde liever twaren 
Hier met iu werden gepynet voerwaer, 
Dan weder te gane voer hem daer, 
Daer alle blijtscap is Tan yrouden, 
Ende daer ick niet af mach vervrouden, 
Maer meer my bedroeven hierby 

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ma8cab6n and meblijn 43 

Ombe hoer blijtscap die niet mach en mj ; 
Maer ick moet gehoersaem wesen, 
£nde oeck doen dat staet te desen." 
AscABOK. Qai Ascaron respondit : mallem potios hie vobiscum cniciari 
qaam ibi obi est omne gaodium esse, qooniam ibi nallo modo 
gaadeo sed potius doleo, cum gaodere incipio. Sed obedientie 
datas, faciam quod iucumbit. 

Early on the appointed day, the procurator of Hell enters 
the court of Heaven and waits for the hearing. 

Mascabon. E parlar umanalment comparech Mascaron denant lo Greador 

en lo dit dia vench en hora dalba. E estant en lo palau tot 

sol en 1 angle e sabia be que major deuriaesser la contumacia 

daquel qui demana que daquel qui es demanat e per aquesta 

rao era vengut axi mati per tal que no li pogoes lo jutje 

escrinre fadiga en lo plet e tenia abdoses les oreles be 

aparelades que en lo palau no fes naguna cosa contra el. 
MEBLIJ27, IL 2153-64. 

Op den dage, die daer geset was, 

Quam Mascheroen, sijt zeker das, 

Becht in den dageraet, ende ginck 

In eenen winkel na die dinck 

In dat pleidoen, want hi wiste dat 

Wei, dat des ejschers stat 

Eerst ende gestadiger moet wesen, 

Dan die men eyschet tot desen ; 

Eude daerombe quam hi yroe, Grod weet, 

Ende hadde beide sine oren gereet 

Ende sine ogen opgedaen oeck wjde, 

Ombe te hoerne ende ziene in elke zyde. 
AscABOK. Ut more humano loquamur, ocnnparuit Ascaron in aurora 

diei, stans in consistorio dei solus in quodam angulo. Bene 

autem sciebat quod maior erat contumacia actoris quam rei. 

Et ideo tempestiue venerat et ambas aures apertas habebat et 

paratas semper, ne quid contra eum fieret. 

At midday, Mascar6n complains that mankind has not 
yet answered the summons, but God sends him back to his 

Mascabon. E con fo hora de mig die Tench Mascaron a la presenoia de 
Den e dix — Pare Sant, jo som vengut mati e encara eeper 

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lumanal linatje e encare no es yengnt fe en a^o. E diz lo 
Salvador — ve, Te, ve que encara no es pasat lo dia. E lo 
dimoni tomasen estar en lo dit angle del palaa. 
Mbblun, 1L 2166-72. 

Ende doe t den middage begonste naken 
Qaam Masoeroen voert met sinen saken 
In die jegenwordicheit Godes, ende seide : 
'* Heilge vader I ick qnam voer ende nae beide ; 
Na doe mjr recht, ick beide te lanck." 
Doe seide Cristas : ^'Davel, na ganck, 
Want al dese dach ten rechte staet" 
Doe keerde hj weder ten winckel, die qaaet 
AdCABOK. Appropinqoante aatem quasi iam meridie, aocessit Ascaron 
ad presentiam dei dicens : pater sancte, ego veni dilucnlo et 
semper ezpectani ; fac mihi iusticiam. Dixit ei dominus : 
Uade, vade ; tota dies cedit Tunc demon rediit in angulum 
et expectauit usque ad horam extremam. 

At Vespers, the procurator again demands that the case 
be heard, but again his claim is not allowed, and he must 
return to his place. This is not found in Ascaron, 

Mascabok. a ora de vespres lo dit Mascaron vench ab gran brogit denant 
la presencia delOreador dient — Senyor Deus, hon es justicia? 
E respos lo Creador — malvat, no e dit que encara no es pasat 
aquest dia? E ladonchs lo dit dimoni tomasen en lo dit 
angle del palau e espera tot lo dia tro a la completa. 

Mbrlun, 1L 2173-80. 

Ontrent Vespertyde gaf by doe wt 
Enen vreesliken, gruweliken geluet, 
Ende sprack : " God, waer es Dyne gerecbtichede ?" 
Onse Here antworde bem ter stede : 
'* Ja, en zeide ick dy niet, yule quaet, 
Dat al dese dacb ten rechte gaet ? ' * 
Doe keerde by weder in dem winckel daer, 
Ende wacbtede bet der nacbt wel naer. 

At nightfall, Mascar6n again appears before God, accusing 
Him of injustice. After considerable discussion, the hearing 
is postponed until the following day. Here the three ver- 
sions agree. The Dutch version is the fullest, but adds 

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nothing important. Then the Virgin Mary, moved to pity 
by the danger which threatens mankind, offers to be its 

Mascasok. E com Madona Sancta Maria sabe quel humanal linatje era 
citat, moguda de gran pietat axi com damor maternal parlant 
homilment, 'ach despleer e dix publicament al homatial 
linatje — no tiens paor qoe jo dema e tots temps sere avocade 
del humanal linatje. E ab aytant tota lorde dels angels 
salegra e ach plaer de gran leticia. 

MSRLUN, IL 2231-40. 

Alse dese beroepinge quam te Yoren 
Der rejner maget wtverkoren 
Bedroevede d hoer ombe dien pleit 
Met moederliker ontfermicheit ; 
Ende doe si vernam dat verlenge^ waer 
Die dach, sprach zi doe openbaer 
Totter menscheit : ''nu laet iu sorgen 
Want opten dach van morgen 
Sal ick uwer aller vorsprake wesen," 
Dat hemelsche Yolck verbllde van desen. 
AscABON. Cumque clamor ad aures virginis Marie pervenisset, re gesta 
audita, matemo amore condoluit. Audiens tamen eomi- 
nationem factam esse, nee ultra processum, publice dixit : 
Non terreamini, quia die crastina humani generis aduocata 
ero et in hoc totus chorus angelorum conquieuit 

The next day, the Virgin Mary appears in the Heavenly 
conrt, accompanied by angels who sing her praise, and 
having seated herself beside her Son, says that she will 
undertake the defense of mankind, and asks that Mascar6n 
be summoned. The three versions agree here. The angels 
rejoice at this announcement and send for the procurator of 

Mascabon. £ ladonchs los angels e los amichs de Deu ageren gran plaer 
e apellaren Mascaron diens — vine Mascaron dapnat e repro- 
vat, cor ara as trobade part qui defendre lumanal linatje. 

M£BLUH, 11. 2276-79. 

Ende hier&f verblide die Hemel al, 
Dit si een vorsprake wesen sal. 

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Ende riepen den Terdomeden totter Btede : 
' ' Coemt, verwjsede ende verbannen mede, 
Da yindes hier wederaake in dit doen." 
AscutOK. Tunc omnes aogeli de tanta adaocata gloriantes 70caaerunt 
dampnatum dicentes — veni condempnate et reprobe ; inuenies 

Mascar6Q enters^ but is unable to raise his ejes to the 
Virgin, who looks at him angrily. 

Mascabon. E Mascaron pie denveja e de tot engan vench e no goea levar 

los nls ves la care de la avocade qui al al de dona irade lo 

guardava axi com Mascaron ho podia conexer. 
Mebluv, U. 2280-82. 

Aldas zo quam daer vorwaert Masceroen, 

Ende en dorst niet, sonder waen, 

Sine ogen op onse vorsprake slaen. 
AacABOV, Aooessit autem demon plenus inuidia omnique dolo nee fait 

ausas oculos erigere in adaocate faciem que ipsum ita turbato 

oculo reepiciebat. 

God bids him speak, and Mascar6n replies that three 
persons must be present at a trial ; the plaintiff, the defend- 
ant, and the judge. The judge and plaintiff, he says, are 
present, but he does not see the defendant. 

Mascaron. E dix Mascaron — tot horn sap que judici esta en III personee 

90 es a saber, lo jntja e aquel qui demana e aqael qui es 

demanat. Vet tu qui est jutje e jo qui son demanador ; la 

persona del demanat ne lo ich veig sens la qual no sera agual 

lo judici. 
Meblijk, II. 2293-2301. 

Doe sprack hi : '' ick wil dat elck yerstaet 

Dat in elcken rechte Toertgaet : 

Drie persone heb ick vereest 

Die Tader, die zone, die heilge geest ; 

Dec rechter sie ick alset behoevet, 

Dat ick eyscher ben isser geproevet 

Bj mynen brieven, als men ziet, 

Den sculdegen persoen en zie ick nietj 

Sonder wien dat recht es twinf 

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ma8ca.b6n and mebluk 47 


AscABOV . Dixit demon : Cancti sciant quod iudidum constat ez tribus 
penonis scilicet iudicis, actoiis et rei. ladioem video, 
qaod ego som actor ptobatur per citatorium ; personam autem 
rei non yidep stne quo nollam est iadicinm. 

The Virgin Mary replies that she represents mankind. 
Maflcar6u objects to this because she is a woman and also 
because of her relationship with the Judge. After a long 
debate in which Mascar6n proves himself an ^'audace 
eo7UradUto7'e e bium loiooy^ the Judge decides to allow Mary 
to appear in behalf of mankind. Mascar6n then takes a 
Bible from his pocket and reads the verse of Genesis which 
promises punishment to Adam and Eve if they disobey the 
command of God and which constitutes the basis of the 
claim of Lucifer against man. Mary refutes this claim^ and 
here the Catalan text stops quite unexpectedly with a '' Deo 
ffradaa.^' The Latin and Dutch versions agree in the main 
with the above, but the scene is more fully developed, and 
in Aacaron the juristic element, with the many references to 
Canon law, is more prominent. As I have said, the Catalan 
text stops at this point. In the Dutch and Latin versions, 
Mary, when hard pressed, has recourse to tears and b^s her 
Son to help her. Then the procurator suggests a compro- 
mise, and Justice, Truth, and Mercy take part in the 
dispute, which is finally settled by Peace, The suit of 
Mascar6n is dismissed, and he returns in disgrace to Hell. 

A comparison of these three texts shows, I believe, that 
the Catalan version is the earliest. Here the subject is 
merely the claim of a representative of Hell for mankind. 
The other two elements, the proposal of Mascar6n to weigh 
the good and evil deeds of man and the dispute between the 
four Virtues, evidently did not form a part of the original 
story. It is likely that the Catalan version was translated 
into French, and this lost French version was translated into 
Dutch and Latin. Not only does the primitive character of 

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the Catalan text furnish evidence that it was the earliest, 
but also the name Mascar6n pomts to Spain. Van Maerlant 
and the Latin translator added the two new elements, both 
of which were popular themes in medieval literature. The 
author of the Latin version gave to the story a certain 
juristic cploring, but, as may be seen by the parallel 
passages, both agree with the Catalan text, so &r as it goes. 
Li one other important respect the Catalan version differs 
from Merlijn and Ascaron. It contains an introduction in 
which the devils are represented as holding a council. They 
had been uncertain whether Jesus was really the Messiah, 
and had finally learned .that he was the Eedeemer. Fearing 
that he would release the souls of the damned by his death, 
they sent a dream to the wife of Pilate, urging her to pre- 
vent the crucifixion of Jesus. It was only after this plan 
had failed that they sent Mascar6n to lay claim to mankind 
before God. This explanation of the dream of Pil^te^s wife, 
which was well known in medieval literature,* is nbi found 
in Merlijn nor in the Latin version, Ascaron^ but it serves as 
introduction to the Dutch poem Mascheroen, written about a 
hundred years after Merlijn, which in other respects it'. fol- 
lows almost exactly. We may infer that the authoi' of 
Mascheroen worked from a French translation of the Cata- 
lan text in the form in which it has been preserved, while 
Van Maerlant used a version which did not contain thi^ 
introduction. \ 

^ Thia interpretation of the dream of Procula, the wife of Pilate, is found 
in the Gbspel of Nicodemos, cap. ii. In La Paation de JSsus'Christ hj 
Amoul Greban, IL 23342-62, Satan succeeds in bringing about the death 
sentence of Jesus, but Lucifer is not satisfied and a messenger is sent to 
appear to Pilate's wife in a dream and to urge her to prevent the cruci- 
fixion of Jesus. See Wieck, Die Ttmfd auf dtr miiUlaUerlichen Myaterien- 
biihne FrankreichSf Leipzig, 1897. The same subject is treated in the Eng- 
lish York and Coventry plays. See L. W. Cushman, The Devil and theViee 
in iha English DramaUe LUmOure b^ore Shakegpeare, Halle, 1900, p. 17. 

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masoab6k and meblijn 49 

There are several Spanish plays indirectly connected with 
the subject treated in Maseardn, M. L6o Rouanet considers 
Maacardn to be the source of the Aiusto de Acusamdn contre 
d ghtero hvmano, " Uauteur de notre auto semble s^^tre 
bom6 k supprimer ces formules, k n^liger les passages 
narratifs et k mettre en vers la prose catalane. Au demeu- 
rant; les deux oeuvres ne sauraient se ressembler davantage, 
tant dans la marche de Paction que dans les moindres 
d^tails/^ ^ However, there are certain differences which 
show that the Atido de Acusaddn contre el ginero humano 
is not based directly upon Mdscardn. In the former, the 
name Mascar6n does not appear, and, besides, the trial ends 
with a formal sentence against Satan, who prosecutes his case 
in person. Its source is the version attributed to Bartolus, * 
entitled : Questiones ventilate coram domino nosbro Jeau Cristo 
inter Virginem Mariam . , . et dyaholum^ published in 1473 
but written in 1311, which had extraordinary vogue through- 
out the Middle Ages.* The subject of Maseardn is recalled 
by the Farsa Sacramental de la Residencia del HowAre and 
the AiUo de la Besidenda del Hombre.^ In these plays, Con- 
ciencia summons Hombre before Justicia because he has 
been disobedient to her commands. Hombre enters accom- 
panied by Angel de la Guarda, who acts as his procurator. 
As witnesses against Hombre, Conciencia summons Mundo, 
Came, and Lucifer, who tell of his sins. Hombre, on the 
advice of Angel, confesses his faults and is pardoned by 
Josticia. As M. Rouanet says, these plays only recall the 
aforementioned versions by their juristic setting. " II n'y 

* OoUeei&n de autoa, faraas y eoloquios del siglo XVI, Vol. iv, p. 287. The 
Audo de Aeuaacifin contra el ginero htmano is published in Vol. n, p. 449. 

'The veision of Bartolus was also the source of the French VAdvocade 
Nobre-Dame ou la Vvtrge Marie pkddanl contre U Diable, a fourteenth century 
play ascribed to Jean de Justice. Ed. by Alphonse Chassant, Paris, 1856. 

•Ed. bj Rouanet, op. eit,, Vol. i, p. 152, and VoL n, p. 330, 


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est nuUement question da p6ch6 originely qai exige une 
expiation impossible aox ^tres humains, mais da p^h6 en 
g6n6ral^ qui pent 6tre effac6 par la contrition et la penitence. 
Le diable n'intervient pas en quality d'accusateur ; on le cite 
comme t^moin. L'auteur n^a point en vue les mystdres de 
rincarnation oa de la redemption, c'est k celai de Peacharis- 
tie que tend son action dramatiqae/^ * A play entitled La 
demanda que pone d demonio al g&nero humano, represented 
at Seville in 1575,^ and El Pleito del demonio con la Virgeiiy 
the work of three poets, which appeared in the Parte sexta 
de lo8 mgores ingenios, Madrid, 1654, probably treat the 
same subject as that found in the version attributed to Bar- 
tolns. The Auto de las Pruebas del linaje humano^ and Lope 
de Vega's Los acreedorea del hombre are only remotely con- 
nected with the same subject.* 


» Op. ctt, Vol. IV, p. 165. • Arjona, AnaUs, p. 64. 

•Ed. by Ronanet, Paris, 1897. 

^Published in the Academy edition of the plays of Lope de Vega, 
Vol. n. 

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Many students of English literature are agreed that the 
Eighteentii Century stands in special need of reconsidera- 
tion. In earlier days Wordsworth, Keats, and many more, 
with the new dawn on their lips, consigned their Augustan 
&ther8 and grandfistthers to an ill-considered damnation. In 
our own age we have tried to be more tolerant. But our 
methods have been unfortunate. We admit the Eighteenth 
Century to be interesting, but interesting only in so far as 
it anticipates romanticism. In consequence all scholarship 
on the Eighteenth Century literature of England has become 
a mad scramble in search of romanticism. Since Pro- 
fessor Beers and Professor Phelps traced its growth in the 
Eighteenth Century it has become so fashionable to detect 
signs of revolt against neo-classicism that some brilliant 
critic of the future may gain distinction by turning the tables 
and by proving that a school of Pope actually existed. Of 
the many conceptions of the Eighteenth Century one of the 
most exaggerated is the notion that the influence of Spenser 
was one of the main forces that made for romanticism. It 
is the purpose of this study to examine the Spenserian 
problem by a brief analysis of those poems which fashion 
dubbed Spenserian Imitations. My contentions may be 
made more clear by departing from the strict chronological 
method and by taking Thomson's Oastie of Indolence, a very 
composite poem, as a climax. 

For purposes of definition it is sufficient in the present 
instance to enumerate a number of the most commonly 
accepted types of romanticism, realizing how seldom they 
exist in combination, and that they are oflen utterly unlike 
one another, occasionally even irreconcilable. The most 


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distinctive feature of 0)leridge's romanticism^ in his greatest 
poem87T8"T&e j)as sion for mystery in the most exalted sense, 
the power of suggestion, the devotion to things that may l)e 
reair'TBe "romanticism of Wordsworth lies in the intimate 
relating of man^s soul and nature. In Byron it appears as 
intense subjectivity and the spirit of revolt. Sometimes the 
romanticism of Keats, a luxurious heaping up of exquisite 
details is the exact opposite. It may be the passion for 
things as they are. The delight in the bee and the flower 
is often sufficient of itself and does not necessarily bring a 
yearning for things as they should be. Often Keats is the 
idealist with a spirit of intense longing. Again, Keats in a 
few lines in the Ode to a Nightmgale, in La Bdk Dame Sana 
Herd, in The Eve of Saint Mark, is with Coleridge. In 
Shelley it is, more broadly, the spirit of revolt ; at its best," 
a peculiarly refined and intense spirit of aspiration and of 
intellectual adventure. In Scott it is merely a passion for 
the grandeur of the past. Mr. Phelps has found many 
bewilderTng dicta on the nature of romanticism to contain in 
common an insistence upon : " Subjectivity, Love of the 
Picturesque, and a Reactionary Spirit." The famous phrase 
of Theodore Watts-Dunton's, with its rich connotations, 
has become justly popular — " The Renaissance of Wonder." 
These qualities, while they may not absolutely define roman- 
ticism are sufficiently inclusive of those generally urged in 
defence of all newly discovered Eighteenth Century roman- 
ticists so that we may use them as touchstones. 

It is certainly true that great poets, if not all poets, are 
both romantic and classical. But one temper predominates. 
It will take a hardy investigator to find much romanticism 
in the first few decades of the Eighteenth Century. For 
my own part, beginning, as a romanticism-hunter, I have 
gradually parted with my hopes and returned to the 
generalizations of the older text-books. The amount of 

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neo-classical survival, even in the poets of the first third of 
the nineteenth centniy, is much more striking than the 
amount of significant romantic material even in the last half 
of the Eighteenth. The neo-classical despotism, once fully 
established, was profound and lasting. 

There is a wholesome lesson in a study of the develop- 
ment, for better or worse, of Spenser-criticism in the hands 
of the classicists and romanticists. It shows the inability of 
one age to appreciate all the merits of a supreme poet at one 
time. Because of ephemeral whims men term one aspect 
bad which the next age will admire. The neo-classicists 
appreciated sides of Spenser to which the romanticists 
became stone-blind. ^ The romanticists revealed beauties in 
Spenser that had been tarnished by the disregard of a 
century and some beauties which had never before been 
observed. Yet even after the experience of centuries, we 
are as hide-bound in many respects as the Spenserian critics 
of any age. 

Two fallacious ideas about the neo-classical attitude 
toward Spenser are current : that he was an object of indif- 
ference even to literary men, and that the Augustans 
approached him in a spirit of mockery. Professor Phelps, 
for instance, quotes some platitudes in Addison's boyish 
Epistle to Saeheverd to indicate how little Addison knew or 
cared about Spenser. But he does not take into considera- 
tion a series of admiring references in Addison's mature 
work, including a prose all^ory professedly in the manner 
of Spenser which Addison had once aspired to develop in 
poetic form.^ Similarly Professor Phelps makes too much 
of the Spenserian burlesque. The Alley, which Pope and 

^ For the comments of Mr. Phelps on Addison see The Beginnings of the 
EngUah BomanUc Movement, Boston, 1893, p. 49. For examples of Addi- 
son's matore appreciation of Spenser see Spectator, Nos. 62, 183, 419, and 
Ouardian, September 4, 1713. 

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Gray wrote in a few moments of triviality. If we examined 
consistently all the vulgar parodies in Eighteenth Century 
poetry and made the same sort of deductions we should be 
forced to conclude that the Eighteenth Century poets 
admired nobody, ancient or modem. Eighteenth Century 
England devoted frequent moments of recreation to that 
peculiarly pointless type of obscenity that is now current 
among boys at grammar schools. As for Pope the statement 
to Hughes, quoted by Mr. Phelps himself, is a sufficient 
counterblast to the parody, "Spenser," writes Pope, "has 
ever been a favorite poet to me; he is like a mistress, whose 
faults we see, but love her with them all." Mr. Phelps 
thinks that " if his appreciation was sincere he did not dare 
to avow it publicly."* But to his 1717 edition of his 
Pastorals he prefixed a Discourse on Pastoral Poetry which, 
though following Dryden in a measure, is by far the best 
criticism of The Shepheards Calender that had yet appeared. 
The Pastorals themselves owe much more to Spenser than 
has hitherto been noted.' 

^See The Btginningu of the Englieh Bomantic Movement^ pp. 53, sq., for 
the qootation from Pope and Mr. Phelps* remarks. 

'Mr. Phelps quotes the assertion in Dr. Johnson's Life of PfUUpe that 
Pope took Virgil for his pattern. This is to overlook a very substantial 
indebtedness to Spenser. Pope avowedly grouped his eclogues according 
to seasons in imitation of Spenser's arrangement by months. Minor indi- 
cations of direct Spenserian influence are plentiful, e, g. : 

Pope, Spring, IL 3 and 4 : 

"Fair Thames, flow gently from thy sacred spring, 
While on thy banks Sicilian Muses sing ; " 
and Spenser, Prothalamumj refrain : 

''Sweete Themmes ! runne softly, till I end my Song." 
Pope's Summer, line 16 : 

"The woods shall answer, and their echo ring." 
Spenser, JSpithalamiion, refrain : 

** The woods shall to me answer, and my Echo ring." 

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The essential trath is that the neo-classioists had a genuine 
admiration for Spenser and that they appreciated a great 
aspect of his genius now misunderstood through the influ- 
ence of literary epicures from Leigh Hunt down to our 
** Art for Art's Sake '' men who know not what they do. 
The Augustans appreciated Spenser's moral earnestness and ^ 
his all^ory. Nowadays we have a morbid fear of didacti- 
cism. We consider it all bad. The Augustans considered / 
it all good. The golden mean is to know the difference '^ \ 
between crude didacticism — almost any sermon^ The Essay 
on Man — and artistic didacticism — the last lines of the Ode 
to a Grecian Urn. 

The Augustans also knew and often named many of Spen- 
ser's qualities which we admire to-day : his sweetness, hi^ 
peculiar kin d of naive simplicity , his copiouslSnc y; Biit the 

vital point f j>r Ufl IP ^^^^ ih^\r Sjw^nqon'Qni'qm haA litt l e QT 

nothing to do with the rise of ro manticis m. They wrote so- 
called Spenserian '' imitations neither as mere literary 
exercises nor as romantic outbursts but because one of their 

Pope's Summery 11. 39, sq. : 

*'That flute is mine which Colin's tonefal breath 
Inspired, when living, and bequeathed in death : 
He said, 'Alexis, take this pipe, the same 
That taught the groves my Rosalinda's name.' " 
Pope, Winter, IL 89, sq. : 

" Adieu, ye vales, ye mountains, streams, and groves, 
Adieu, ye shepherds' rural lays and loves ; 
Adieu, my flocks, farewell, ye sylvan crew ; 
Daphne, farewell ; and all the world adieu ! " ' 

Spenser, Deeember, the last stanza : 

'' Adieu, delights that lulled me asleepe ; 
Adieu, my deare, whose love I bought so deare ; 
Adieu, my little Lambes and loved sheepe ; 
Adieu, ye Woodes, that oft my witnesse were : 
Adieu, good Hobbinoll, that was so true, 
Tell Boflalind, her CoUn bids adieu." 

'- W<^ 

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fundamental ideals was to imitate an established classic. B^ 
far the greater of the Ei gh tee n th Century and not a few of the 
Nineteenth Century imitations of Spenser were purely neo- 
classical. Yet the Augustan imitations of Spenser are no 
more unlike their model than their Virgilian imitations are 
unlike their supreme &vorite. Occasional verses for king 
and patron^ vera de aociiU, satires^ and moralizing poems 
were fistvorite forms in Augustan days and their Spenserian 
inspiration was promptly poured into these moulds. A brief 
examination of some of these poems^ extending as they did 
even to the days of Coleridge and Keats will make more 
clear the composite nature of Thomson^s Castle of Indolence, 
the greatest poem of this group. 

One of the most active groups of Augustan Spenserians 
followed Mathew Prior who seems to have been the origina- 
tor, in his Ode to the Queen, (a professed but superficial 
imitation of Spenser) of a variation of the stanza of the 
Faerie Queene that was more tuneftd to neo-classical ears. 
He disregarded Spenser's subtle linking of quatrains and 
final couplet. Spenser's rhymes lead on and on in their 
caressing leisurely manner. Prior's scheme, ababcdcd 
e E, was doubtless pleasantly distinct to Augustan ears ever 
craving the rest of the couplet-end. The preface to Prior's 
imitation throws interesting light on Augustan-Spenserian- 
ism. Dryden and others cherished Spenser by comparing 
him favorably with their idol Virgil. Prior finds that 
Spenser had the happy faculty, in common with his supreme 
master) Horace, of giving pleasant instruction in verse, a 
virtue praised by all notable writers on poetics until our 
"Art for Art's Sake " men degraded the function of poetry 
into something similar to that of a choice confectionery. In 
¥noPs Colin^a Mistakes^ (1713-21), we find a poem steeped 

^ Oolin*8 Mi8iake8f once only ascribed to Prior, is now generally accepted. 
Mr. Phelps (p. 52, note) has some excellent alignments. Mr. A. R. 

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in Spenser yet running smoothly in the starched manner of 
the days of Queen Anne. Colin lives by the banks of Cam. 

" Lays Greek and Boman woo'd he oft rehearse, 
And mach he lov'd and much by heart he said 
What Father Spenser sung in British Verse. 
Who reads that Bard desires like him to write 
Still fearful of Success, still temted by Delight'' ^ 

Colin sees a beautiful woman who rides like an Amazon 
clothed in scarlet. He thinks her the goddess Pallas. 

.... "WeUIween 
Dan Spenser makes the fayrite Goddess known ; 
When in her graceful Look fair Britomart is shown." 

At noon^ at the castle, Colin sees her with Munificence 
standing near. Decent State obeys her. Charity guides her. 
Surely now he knows the lady. 

'* In Latin Numbers Juno is her Name. 

Certes of Her in semblant Guise I read ; 

Where Spenser decks hb Lays with Gloriana's Deed.'' 

Then follows a rifiujimento of Spenser's description of 
Belphoebe. Spenser's lovely huntress is metamorphosed 
into an el^ant lady of the age of Queen Anne. 

'' As Colin mus'd at Evening near the Wood ; 
A Nymph undressed, beseemeth by Him past : 
Down to her Feet her silken Garment flow'd ; 
A Ribbon bound and shap'd her slender Waist : 
A Veil dependent from her comely Hair, 
O'er her fair Breast and lovely shoulders spread, 
Behind fell loose, and wanton' d with the Air. 
The smiling Zephyrs call'd their am'rous Brothers : 
They kiss'd the waving Lawn, and wafted it to Others. 

Waller, Prior's latest editor {Dialogues of the Dead and Other Works in 
Prose and Verse, Cambridge University Press, 1907), includes it without 

^Whoever doubts the genuineness of the poet's desire may read Prior's 
praise of Spenser and new aspirations in his remarkable preface to his 
execrable Solomon, 

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'* Daisies and Violets rose, where She had trod ; 
As Flora kind her Boots and Buds had sorted : 
And led by Hymen, Wedlock's mystic God, 
Ten thousand Loves around the Nymph disported. 
Qnoth Colin ; now I ken the Goddess bright, 

.... great Venus she is call'd, 
When Mantuan Virgil doth her Charms rehearse ; 
Belphebe is her Name,^ in gentle Edmund's Verse." 

Yet, after these elaborate fancies, we are gallantly assured 
that Colin was mistaken. 

" Bright Ca'ndish-Holles-Harley stood confest, 
As various Hour advis'd, in various Habit drest." 

I have quoted freely from this drivel to show how poets 
could write in a Spenserian vein without a sign of romanti- 
cism. I repeat that this is as near Spenser as most Yirgilian 
imitations by Prior's contemporaries are near Virgil. 
Oolin'a Mistakes is the work of a man who knew and loved 
his Spenser well. Yet nothing could be more neo-classical. 
Prior's variation of the Spenserian stanza was popular 
even into the Nineteenth Century. It was employed by 
poets as far apart in time and talents as Chatterton and 
Felicia Hemans. Typical Augustan Occasional Verses and 
didactic poems ran neatly in this mould. Yet the writers 
often knew their Spenser as well as their Prior. James 
Scotfs Heaven^ a Vision (1760), for instance contains an 
acknowledged imitation of Spenser's Bower of Bliss.^ As 

* Accessible in Oambridge Prize Po«im, London, 1817. I can only list 
here a few of the poems in the Spenser-Prior stanza. Samuel Boyse : The 
Olive: An Heroie Ode (1736-7), Ode to the Marguia of Tavistock (1740), The 
Vinon (^Patience (1741 ?), a paraphrase of PsabnXLIIy AVAofCs Triwavph^ 
An Ode on the BaJUle o/DeiUngen (1743), Stamuu Occasioned by Mr, Pope^s 
Trandalion of Horace, a modemixation of Chaacer's Squirtfs TaU supple- 
mented by Ogle's modernization of Spenser's continuation of Chaucer also 
in the ten-lined stanza of Prior (the OanUrbwry Tales of Chaucer ModerMd 
by Several Hands. Published by Mr. Ogle. London, 1761. First edition?). 

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for the statement that these are thin imitations of Spenser 
and prove no real admiration^ I retort^ at the risk of tedious 
iteration ; that for the most part the neo-classicists imitated 
S penser as they imitated iliomer, V irgir^lhe Od es of Horacej 
s eriously but superficially . Let any man compare the 
JtJleffies of Hammond, then universally praised for their 
burning passion, with the work of their professed inspirer, 
Tibullus. If he can find any more real Tibullus in these 
echoes than he can find real Faerie Queene in almost any of 
the '^ Imitations " of Spenser, his vision is far keener than 

Bishop Robert Lowth, a famous stadeot of Hebrew Poetry : The Choice of 
Herculu (1747). John Upton : A New Canto of Spenser's Fairy Queen 
(1747). Thomas Denton: JmmorUdHy: or the Consolation of Human Life 
( 1754), The House of Superstition, James Scott : An Hymn to Repentance 
(1762). In the ChntUman^s Magwnne (September, 1755) : Written in Mr. 
Stanyon^s Oreeian History^ by a OenUeman lately deceased, Samuel Wesley 
(Poems on Several OccasionSf second edition, 1763): The Battle of the Sexes^ 
a versification of Addison's prose allegory in imitation of Spenser, The 
lUad in a Nutshell : or Homer's Battle of the Frogs and Mice. Wesley proves 
his first-hand knowledge of Spenser by a Pastoral between Colin and 
Thenot which shows the influence of The Shepheards Calender, AUnn and 
tJte Daughter of Mey, An Old Tale, Translated from the Irish, a pseudo- 
romantic poem of the Ossian type in Mendez's Miscelany (1767). Gilbert 
West, in his once famous translation of Pindar : The First Pytkiam Ode, 
William Wiiitehead attempted a lyrical version of the stanza in his Hymn 
to Venus and used it regularly in his Vision of Solomon, In Benjamin 
Wakefield's anthology. The Warbling Muses (1749) it was employed as a 
song-stanza (Song CLXXXVUi), etc, etc A few examples of Augustan- 
Spenserian gallantry, somewhat akin to Colin* s Mistakes may be added. 
William Hamilton of Bangor, a man with some real poetry in him, was 
capable of writing verbiage like : On Seeing Lady Montgomery Sit to her 
Pidwre. In Imitation of Spenser's Style (1748 ). 

*<The while I gaz'd ah ! felice Art, thought I," etc 

So Samuel Say, with more taste, utilised the beautiful love-story of Bel- 
phoebe and limias to give point to his love-lyric, The Dream. So Dr. Dodd, 
whose divine efflatns may be estimated by the title of his very serious 
imitation of The Shepheards Calender^ Diggon Davy's Besolution on the Death 
cfHis Last Oow, perpetrated a Sonnet Oeeasioned by Hearing a Young Lady 
timg Spenter^s AmorettL 

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William Whitehead^ the dull laureate^ who had employed 
the Prior-Spenserian stanza in his Vision of Solomon (1730), 
seems to have been one of the first of an Augustan group 
to employ another variation of the Spenserian stanza. In 
his two Odes to Charles Townsend he used the rhyme-scheme 
ababcC. This stanza was quite as popular as Prior's 
variation.^ Christopher Smart, before he went mad and 
composed his superb Hymn to David, used it in his Hymn to 
the Supreme Being on Recovery from a Dangerous FU of 
lUneaSy in a moment of dull sanity. Again it becomes 
absurd to argue that the use of this form indicates an igno- 
rance of The Faerie Queene. For the Wartons, deepest of 
the acknowledged lovers of Spenser, used it in their imita- 
tions of their idol. Thomas Warton, the elder, employed 
it in Philander, An Imitation of Spenser : Occasioned by the 
Death of Mr. Wiiliam Jening, Nov., 1706} Thomas Warton, 
the younger, in The Pleasures of MeUmchdy, alludes to 
Spenser in a somewhat romantic spirit. 

' ' Such mystic visioos send as Spenser saw 
When throogh bewildering Fancy's magic maze, 
To the fell house of Busyrane, he led 
Th* unshaken Britomart.'' . . . .* 

But his own imitations, always in the ababcC stanza, are 

^ E. g.: On Happineaa and Palinodui, in J. Husband's MxacdUuiy cf 
Poems by Several Hands (1731). Dodsley, the publisher, contributed two 
deadly effusions : Pain and Patience (1742) and On the Death of Mr. P6pe 
(1744?). The JwreniUaot Thomas Qibbons contains An EUgaic Ode on 
the Death <^ the Beverend Mr. Mordeeat Andrew, A Vision. Dodsley's sup« 
plementary Collection (1783), contains a poem in this stanaa, The HospUor 
hU Oak, of more interest because it practically retells Spenser's feible of the 
oak in Februarie with a liberal use of archaisms, etc., etc The stanza has 
remained popular to this day. 

' The poem contains an allusion to Spenser's elegy on Sidney, Astrophel, 
in the same stanza as Warton' s elegy (ababcc), though Spenser did not 
here employ the final alexandrine. Joseph Warton' s Ode on his brother's 
death has a similar allusion in which he desires his master's el^aic gifts. 

* See 11. 28-69, passim. 

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80 frigid and so remote from their model that were they our 
only evidenoe, as is the case with so many of our other 
poets, we might suspect, according to current argument, 
that Warton had no first hand acquaintance with Spenser. 
A Padoral m the Marmer of Spenser (1753), does contain an 
artificial suggestion of the master. A note tells us that it is 
in the stanza of Januarie and December^ It is a paraphrase 
of Theocritus but Warton uses certain radical archaisms, 
(e. g. : " bragly," " soote,'^ etc.), which appear only in the 
Shepheards Calender. But his other imitations are merely 
Augustan commonplace.' 

Another aeries of Spenserian imitations may be grouped 
about Shenstone's tender and humorous poem in regular 
Spenserian stanzas. The Sch/ool^mistress. Great capital has 
been made of Shenstone to support the assertion that Spenser 
was not taken seriously at first, that he was the inspirer of 
burlesque. We have already seen that Pope's The Alley con- 
tributes little to this theory if examined in the light of his 
other utterances. I have already remarked the Augustan 
tendency to burlesque their most sacred idols. That popular 
type of Augustan poem that was neatly labelled "An Imita- 
tion of Spenser,'' furnished comparatively few burlesques. 
Thomson and Shenstone, two of its greatest exponents, did 
infuse a strong tinge of humour. And occasionally the 
quaintness of the old master was used to edge a piece of 
pointless obscenity like The Alley of Pope and The Jordan 
(1747) by Christopher Pitt, the translator of Virgil. But 

^ ThiB is tme except that Spenser did not use the final alexandrine here. 

'Thej are : Morning (written 1745), Ode vm, An Elegy on the Death qf 
Prince Frederick (written 1751), The Chmplaint of Cfhertoell (written 1761). 
Joseph Warton shows even less indications of Spenserian influence on his 
poetrj. In his jonth Joseph Warton sketched a stiff allegorical poem 
with pageants of Vices of a Spenserian cast His Ode to Liberty^ in tetra- 
meter conpleta, is varied by two Prior-Spenserian stanzas. His poems in 
general contain occasional allusions to Spenser. 

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there were few masters, ancient or modem, whom the 
Augustans did not treat in the same blasphemous way. 
The heroic couplet was more frequently used to spatter filth 
than the Spenserian stanza. 

In 1737 Shenstone published his School^mistresSy the most 
brilliant imitation of Spenser which the Eighteenth Century 
had yet seen. He is exceptional rather than typical in not 
seeming to have had any deep sympathy with Spenser, at 
first, but in being disposed to be merely amused at the 
quaintness of The Faerie Queene. He was artist enough, 
however, to see great possibilities in the style for the sort of 
thing he wished to do. Later he became an ardent and 
appreciative admirer of Spenser. In 1742 he wrote to 
Graves : 

''Some tiioe ago, I read Spenser's 'Fairy Queen/ and when I had 
finished, thought it a proper time to make some additions and corrections in 
my trifling imitation of him, 'The School-mistress.' His subject is cer- 
tainly bad and his action inexpressibly confused ; but there are some par- 
ticulars in him that charm one. Those which afford the g^reatest scope in 
a ludicrous imitation are his simplicity and obsolete phrase ; and yet these 
are what give one a very singular pleasure in the perusal. The burlesque 
wiiich they occasion is of quite a different kind to that of Phillips's Shill- 
ing, Cotton's Travestie, Hudibras, and the works of Swift" ^ 

We have, then, external evidence of the most direct Spense- 
rian influence. The completed School-midresa appeared in 
1742. Few other poets ever succeeded in reproducing so 
beautifully one of Spenser's most delicate graces, his tender- 
ness. For this, the element of gentle humour, that plays so 
waywardly through Shenstone's poem, is potent assistance. 
It is a disgrace to the anthology-men that this poem is left 
to the student of literature, and not dragged out of the 
mildewed volumes of Shenstone to the popularity it could 
easily attain in fresh print between pretty covers. Nobody 
who reads can ever forget the little old school-mistress. 

^LeUers, No. zziii, To Mr. OravcB. The Day brfore Xmaa^ 1742. 

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'^ A rusBet stole was o'er her shoulders thrown ; 
A russet kirtle fenc'd the nipping air ; 
'Twas simple msset, but it was her own ; 
'Twas her own country bred the flock so fair I 
'Twas her own labour did the fleece prepare ; 
And, sooth, to say, her pupils, ranged around, 
Thro' pious awe, did term it passing rare ; 
For they in gaping wonderment abound, 
And think, no doubt, she been the greatest wight on ground.'' 

Her garden is a charming homely adaptation of the old 
Spenserian flower-passagefl. 

'' Herbs too she knew, and well of each could speak 
That in her garden sip'd the silVry dew ; 
Where no vain flow'r disclos'd a gawdy streak ; 
But herbs for use, and physick, not a few, 
Of grey renown, within those borders grew : 
The tufted basil, pnn-proToking thyme, 
Fresh baum, and mary-gold of ch^urfnl hue ; 
The lowly gill, that nerer dares to climb ; 
And more I fain would sing ; disdaining here to rhyme. 

'* Yet euphrasy may not be left unsung. 
That giTes dim eyes to wander leagues around ; 
And pungent radish, biting infant's tongue ; 
And plantain ribb'd, that heals the reaper's wound ; 
And marj'ram sweet, in shepherd's posie found ; 
And lavender, whose spikes of azure bloom 
Shall be, ere-while, in arid bundles bound, 
To lurk amidst the labours of her loom. 
And crown her kerchiefs dean, with mickle rare perfume." ^ 

This happy adaptation of Spenser's method of cataloguing 
flowers with quaint utilitarian epithets does more than pages 
to show us how Shenstone imitated Spenser with the lover's 
familiarity and the artist's nice instinct 

Shenstone^ in his turn^ marshalled a cohort of Spenserians 

> This is curiously like Spenser's MuwpotmtUf sts. 24, 25, a garden of : 

"The wholesome Saulge, and Lavender still gray. 
Bank-smelling Rue, and Cummin good for eyes," etc. 

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under the banner of his master's legion.^ As we all know, 
the movement reached a memorable culmination in Bums's 
The Ootter^a Saturday Night (1786), which, b^ot scores of 
imitators.' The poem is far enough from Spenser whom 
Bums had not read. And it is fortunate. For he would 
have doubtless cumbered his poem with even more manner- 
isms in the waj of all Augustan imitators. The worst lines 
of the poem^ such soporific passages as : 

'' Compared with this, how poor Religion's pride,'' 

maj be traced to the baneful influence of Beattie who could 
not lead his minstrel out among the mountains without 
recalling truisms about the World's vanities. Had Bums 
taken his Spenserian stanza from Shenstone alone, Henlej's 
regret that Bums attempted the Spenserian manner at all 
might have been needless. For Shenstone had a sense of 
humour. As it is we must not waste time retailing the 
&ults of The Ootter^a Saturday Night. There are times 
when the sophisticated critic must stand back and reverence 
the devotion of a wide-spread audience of simple folk who 
are the salt of the earth. When a poem is immensely 

' Akenside's The VtrtuosOt a boyish poem in Spenserian stanzas, which 
appeared in The OenUeman^e Magazine for 1737, the jear of the first edition 
of the Sehool-mistresSf maj have been an imitation of Shenstone. It is the 
character-sketch of a curious old book- worm. See also : The Parish Clerk 
(no date), by W. Vernon (d. shortly after 1760); Henry Mackenzie : The 
Old Bachelor f After the Manner of Spenser ^ and The Old Jtfaid, After the Same 
Mctnner; etc. Tom Hood's burlesque The Irish School-master^ in Spen- 
serian stanzas looks like a nineteenth century imitation of Shenstone, 
though Hood knew his Spenser well. I may mention here several of 
Akenside's other poems listed by Mr. Phelps as Spenserian because their 
stanza-forms seem like variations of the Spenserian stanza : Ode to Ourio 
(1744), Ode to the Author of the Memoirs of the House of Brandenburg 
(1751), To Country Oentlemen of England^ all in ababccdeeD. 

^E, g, : William Finlayson, Andrew and Jock (1806); Isaac Brown, 
B^rewshire Characters and Scenery (1824 ); Alexander Balfour, The Plough- 
man's Death and Bwrial (1825); Robert White, The Highland Emigrant 
(1867); etc., etc. 

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popular, and when it remains immensely popular, despite 
the gusts of whim and prejudice in the streets and market- 
places, it is time for the self-sufficient critic to reconsider 
and to ask himself the full meaning of what has givenjhis 
humbler brothers an enduring faith. 

One later Shenstonian poem maj be discussed to prove that 
the imitators of the School-mistress could draw from Spenser 
at first-hand too. From The Village Simday, A Poem Moral 
and Descriptivey In the Manner of Spenser^ an anonymous 
pamphlet probably issued at the close of the century, it is 
enough to quote from the preface. 

''When a boj the School-mistrefls of ShenstODe was to me the most 
delightful of all Poems. The puhlic had not long been fayonred with that 
exquisite production of Bum's, The Cotter's Saturday Night, when it 
caught my attention, and I was deeply enamoured with its Beauties ; but 
the Fairy Queene of Spenser soon fixed my admiration; it became the 
fountain-head of my poetical enjoyments, and its waters are now even still 
sweeter than when I first tasted them.'' 

Before we turn our attention to the gradual rise of roman- 
tic Spenseristnism we must glance briefly at several other 
aspects of the purely Augustan treatment of Spenser. 
Critics have made much of the Augustan attempts to 
modernize Spenser as proofs of languid interest One 
example will give sufficient text for comment In 1729 
appeared An Imitation of Speneer^s Fairy Queen : A Frag- 
ment. By a OenUeman of Twenty.^ It is a paraphrase, in 
couplets, fifom the seventh canto of the seventh book of 

^ Published by James Balph in Miscellaneous Poems by Several Hands. 
For other modernizations of Spenser see: Spenser Beditfivus (16S7), the 
modernization of Spenser's Cambel and Triamond episode appended to 
Boyse's paraphrase of The Squires Tale mentioned in a note above (1763?), 
Cantos in blank verse (18 pages, 1774), Cantos i-iv in blank verse (1783), 
Prince Arthur^ An Allegorical Bomance (2 vols., prose, 1779). See The 
Monthly Review (1775), for an interesting attack on the sacreligious habit 
of modernizing Spenser. 

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The Faerie Queene, A few lines from the enervated rifaci- 
mento of Spenser's merry description of October may be 
quoted as a melancholy example. 

** October now came reeling from the Press, 
With drunken Splendour shining in his Face ; 
For he had newly eas'd the pregnant Vine 
And quaff* d the luscious Must of purple Wine. 
The nodding Clusters twin'd around his Head 
And dj'd his garments with a crimson Red.*' 

This is what the elegant Young Gentleman \iTung out of 
Spenser's : 

** Then came October full of merry glee ; 
For yet his noule was totty of the must, 
Which he was treading in the wine-fats see, 
And of the joyous oyle, whose gentle gust 
Made him so f rollick and so full of lusf 

Yet we must deal lightly with this upstart. Dryden had 
given weighty precedent in the modernization of old authors. 
Nor was the spirit of the Young Gentleman more blas- 
phemous than that of Pope when he rendered Homer into 
smart couplets. The mental attitudes were precisely the 
same. But Pope was the more brilliant man. As in the case 
of the parodies, if we are to use such material as evidence of 
Spenser^s unpopularity we must conclude that the revered 
Ancients fared no better. 

I have already observed that the Augustans were fond 
of imitating Spenser, as tliey imitated Horace, for purely 
moralistic purposes. In such poems there was no spark of 
romanticism. One example will reveal the type. In 1747 
the world was edified by the Reverend Robert Bedingfield's 
The Education of AcJiilles. The poem gives an account of 
certain allegorical comrades of the young hero at the cave of 
Chiron, " A lowly habitation, well I ween.^' ^ It shows an 

»Cf. The Faerie Queeney 1. 1, 34 : "A litUe lowly Hermitage it was." 

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easy mastery over some of Spenser's more graceful if super- 
ficial traits. Achilles is instructed by Modesty, Temperance, 
and others. Two stanzas will show that the good clergyman 
oonld be very pleasantly Spenserian in his moral lore. 

" Far in the coyert of a bushj wood, 
Where aged trees their star-proof branches spread, 
A grott, with grey moss ever dropping stood ; 
Ne costly gems the sparkling roof displayed, 
Ne crystal squares the pavement rich inlaid, 
Bat o'er the pebbles, clear vrith glassy shine, 
A limpid stream in soothing murmurs stray' d. 
And all around the flow* ring eglantine 
Its balmy tendrils spread in many a wanton twine. 

" Fast by the cave a damsel was ypight, 
Afraid from earth her blushing looks to rear. 
Lest aught indecent should ofiend her sight ; 
Yet would she sometimes deign at sober chear 
Softly to smile, but ever held it shame 
The mirth of foul-month' d ribaldry to hear. 
A cautions nymph, and Modesty her name. 
Ah I who but churlish carle would hurt so pure a dame ?" 

Would not even the high-serious poet of The Faerie Queene 
have smiled^ Shakespeare-wise, if he had seen this pretty 
little Augustan-Spenserian prude ? ^ 

Since satire was the favorite Augustan poetical form, poets 
of the scourge and bludgeon found no difficulty in using 
Spenser for their purposes. Tlie Squire of Dames (1748-58), 
by Moses Mendez, is an excellent specimen. It takes 

^ For examples of other poems of this group : Qilbert West, the trans- 
lator of Pindar, printed On the Abuse of TravtUing, A Cbnto, In ImUaiion 
of Spenser (1739), a typical Augustan moralistic and satirical poem with 
all the tinsel of Spenser, and Education : A Poem vnitten in Imitation of the 
Style and Manner of Spenser^ 8 Fairy Queeny which contains an attack on the 
artificial gardening of the day. Gloster Ridley's Psyche, a moral alle- 
gory, was first published in Dodsley's Jlftwettwi, April, 1747. Its popularity 
induced Ridley to expand it into four cantos. It was published post- 
humously as Mdampusy or the Religious Groves (1781) . See also Industry and 
GeniuSf a Fable attempted in the Manner of Spencer {London Magazine^ 1751 ). 

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Spenser's cynical episode of the Squire of Dames^ supplies 
details, and gives the story a new turn at the end well cal- 
culated to please the Eighteenth Century taste for satires on 
woman's inconstancy. The Squire tells Sir Satyrane of his 
quest for a chaste woman in obedience to the behest of his 
fair Columbel. Mendez relates his ill-success with great 
gusto. Finally the Squire arrives at the castle of Bon- 

'^ And forth there issaed the senechal, 
Of middle age he waSi if right I ween. 
He was in personage both plump and tall, 
Ne wrinkle deep was on his forehead seen, 
Bat joTisaunce sat basking on his brow, 
At every word he spoke, he smil'd atween, 
His temples were jcrown'd with mjrtle bough, 
And virelays he song with matchless grace, I vow." 

He is L'All^ro. Bon-Vivant laughs at the Squire's quest 
and tells him of the ravenings of the Blatant Beast. In the 
second canto the Squire finally goes to Merlin's cave where^ 
in the magic mirror^ he sees his beloved Columbel abandon- 
ning herself to another paramour. 

This satirical aspect of Spenserianism is seen alive as late 
as 1807 in George Crabbers The Birth of Flattery. He 
begins with an affectionate invocation in Spenserian stanzas^ 

" Muse of my Spenser, who so weU could sing 
The passions all, their bearings and their ties," 

and soon launches forth in his satire proper in heroic 
couplets but still in the manner of Spenser. 

'^ In Fairy-land, on wide and cheerless plain. 
Dwelt in the boose of Oare, a sturdy swain " 

called Poverty. In the same plain lived the nymph Cun- 
ning. The two were wedded but soon fell into dissension. 
But the wife told of a vision which prophecied that their 
daughter would mend their fortunes. A beautiful child was 

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bom. But Envy came in the guise of an aged woman, 
pressed the babe to his breast, and cursed her. Despair fell 
upon the parents. But a vision instructed the mother to 
take courage. 

''Be flattery, then, thj happy infant's name. 
Let Honour Boom her and let Wit defame ; 
Let all be true that Enyj dooms, yet all, 
Not on herself, but on her name, shall fall ; 
While she thy fortone and her own shall raise. 
And decent Truth be calPd, and loved as modest Praise." 

Crabbe was doubtless really influenced by Spenser for 
whom he frequently expressed the warmest admiration. But 
the methods here employed were not native to him. The 
Birth of Flattery is only successftil in an occasional vengeful 
satirical thrust or in brief touches of characteristic grey 

In the eagerness of students of English literature to 

^ For other examples of Augustan-Spenserian satire see Bichard Owen 
Oambridge's Archimage (1742-50), a rather graceful bit of vers de society 
with some playful satire on his friends. The poem shows a distinct appre- 
ciation of and a power to reproduce Spenser's qualities. He also wrote On 
ike Marriage of His Boyal Highness j Frederick Prince of Wales; In Imitation 
of Spenesr (1736). A glance at the poet's other work will show how un- 
oomprisingly neo-classical he was. Robert Lloyd's The Progress of Envy 
(1751) is a yirulent Spenserian satire on Lauder, the Scotch tutor, who 
spent his learning in the endeavour to convict Milton of plagiarism. Lloyd 
attacked Spenserian '* Imitations" in a tirade against imitation in general : 
lb . . . about to Publish a Volume (1755). Dr. Johnson was the force who 
encouraged a wave of protest against the Augustan ideal of imitation. 
Lloyd's poem is not to be seriously reckoned with. He even attacked those 
who strove to imitate *'Mat Prior's unaffected ease," a thing which he 
himself never ceased doing throughout his career. Equally cursed were 
those who imitated Milton or Pope. William Wilkie's A Dreamy In the 
Manner of Spenser (1759) may be mentioned as literary satire in part. He 
revolts, in thought, against the neo-classical ''(Ik>bweb limits fixed by 
fools." But the style of his poem, like that of his fossilized epic, Th^ 
Epigoniady which he is defending, is thoroughly neo-dassical. See also 
CJowper's Anti Thdyphthoray A Tale in Verse (1781), occasioned by his ire 
over a tract by Martin Madan defending polygamy on scriptural grounds. 

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di8cover romantic traits too little attention has been paid to 
the tenacity of neo-classicism. Another ar^ment that the 
influence of Sp enser was not a cause of romanticismJ iies jn 
^ ^e fact that Spenser was imi tated in a purely A ugus ta n way 
long after the romantic cause was safe. We shall find 
AugiistanT^mltations of Spenser among the most radical 
romanticists themselves. An instructive example of neo- 
classical tenacity is to be found in Hugh Downman's, The 
Lanvd of the Muses, A Poem in the Manner of Spenser 
(1768), and his recension in heroic couplets (1790). The 
poem was devised : " As if to be inserted in the Second 
Book of the Fairy Queen, between the Eleventh and Twelfth 
Cantos.^' It takes up Spenser's narrative then, after Guyon 
and Arthur had rescued the House of Alma from a rabble 
of besieging monsters. Guyon had departed to destroy the 
Bower of Bliss but Arthur remained to cure his wounds. 
Downman interpolates an episode : 

*' The Prince nigh cured of mortal stowers, 
Ahna to entertain. 
Shows him Dan Phoehos' magick bowers, 
Where the Nine Ladies reign." 

Spenser, then, is to be used for an allegorical treatise on 
poetics. Downman interjects his canto very neatly. He 
had an easy mastery of his characters and included even the 
lesser figures with great adroitness. The poem opens in the 
moralizing vein usually borrowed from Spenser's preludes 
by his Augustan followers, with some reflections on Temper- 
ance. Arthur, cured of his wounds, listens with delight to 
the sage words of Alma and to the sweet music discoursed 
by the maidens, Praise-Desire and Shamefacedness. One 
evening he saw a land beyond the river which Alma told 
him was inhabited by Apollo and the Muses. At Arthur's 
request they took a gondola steered by Grood-Culture. Upon 
landing, Arthur and Alma met Youth and his spouse 

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Hygeia, leading their son, Content, and bearing a babe, 
Simplicity. Alma was directed by Youth to Fancy. 
Downman's romantic theories are here allegorized. They 
found the haunt of Fancy. 

" In that retired vale of times she sate, 
Where Nature strayed, wild, by Art not found ; 
But not therein immersed was her state, 
Nor yet y-pent in any fixed bound, 
Free and at large she raung'd creation round. 
Or, breaking thro the brazen gyre, would steer 
Her flight, with cheek not blanchM, nor heart astound, 
The din of Chaos and Confusion hear. 
Ne all the ever-bickering elements would fear." 

Fancy whirled them through the air to her tower, of glass 
seemingly frail, but outlasting all the works on earth. It 
was filled with pictures which Fancy saw in her ranging 
and would tell to a virgin named Description, a cunning 
painter. A neo-classical " reverend Eld,^^ however, called 
Judgment, held her pallette. They looked down and saw 
an enchanting country full of flowers and groves and gar- 
rulous brooks where shepherds, fairies, satyrs, and dryads 
played and danced. They saw the God of Love on a gentle 
lamb, on the one side Sincerity, on the other Innocence, then 
Novelty with Admiration, Friendship with Sans-Self-Love, 
Toutb with Hygeia, and many more.^ Fancy showed them 
other visions, but told Arthur that he could not hope to see 
Apollo and the Muses until he had gone forth and fought 
many hard battles. Plainly Arthur symbolizes the young 
poet himself. 

But with all his romantic theories, so ingeniously alle- 
gorized, Downman^ in his maturity, recast his poem in tame 
Augustan couplets. He published his revision in 1790 with 

^ This is obyiooslj an imitation of Spenser's ^'Maske of Cupid,'' (F*. Q. 
8, 12) where Lore enters riding on a lion, accompanied bj Fancj and 
Denie, Fear and Hope, and man j more. 

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some interesting dedicatory verses to Dr. Blacklock^ the 
blind poet. 

*' For thy amasement first I toned the lay. 
And dressed my thoughts in Spenser's antique stile, 
Twas but a frolic task, a youthful play, 
Whose best reward was thy approving smile. 

*' It scarcely claimed th* offended Critic's rod. 
We love to imitate what we admire ; 
The Persian thus adores the Solar God, 
And lights, faint emblem, his terrestrial fire. 

" No longer inexperienced I presume 
On fancied worth, beneath the quaint disguise, 
But strip the veil, remove th' incumbent gloom, 
And modem numbers give to modem eyes." 

Despite his neo-classical rifacimento Downman deserves the 
credit of having been one of the first to see that Augustan- 
Spenserianism had been too academic and artificial in its. 
purely mechanical adoption of Spenser's stanza and diction. 
The Augustans imitated Virgil, Juvenal, Milton, Spenser 
by rote. Downman, in his recension, has a glimmer of the 
romantic method — to imitate more freely. 

Meanwhile romanticism had long been girding itself and 
growing stalwart for its triumph. Yet Augustan-Spenserian- 
ism died hard even when hemmed in by foes. It lived well 
through the Renaissance of Wonder. For instance, Mrs. 
Barbauld, the sentimental Sappho of the late Augustans, 
perpetrated Stanzas: In the Manner of Spenser as late as 
1814. She also employed the Prior-Spenserian stanzas in 
To a Friend.^ Besides some surviving members of the old 
school the leaders of the romanticists themselves showed 
occasional striking relics of the Augustan-Spenserian mode. 

'For other examples of late Augustan-Spenserian see: Mrs. Mary 
Robinson's The Cavern of Woe and The FosUr-CMd {Poetical Works, 1806), 
Henry Kirke White's Fragment (on consumption) and portions of an epic 
The Chrtetiod {c 1804). 

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The Spenserian imitations of Coleridge are almost purely 
neo-classical. The lAnes In the Manner of Spenser (1795 ?) 
and lo the Author of Poems (Joseph Cottle) (1795?) might 
have been written by any Eighteenth Century poetaster.^ 
Everybody remembers that Keats' first known poem is an 
ImUaUon of Spenser (c. 1813) quite Augustan despite his early 
love for Spenser himself. Like any enthusiastic youngster 
he found the works of inferior Spenserians like the fabled 
lost books of The Faerie Queene and knew not the gay tin-foil 
beaten thin from the deep-hued red gold till time ripened 
him. In his maturity he was^ at times, a perfect reincarna- 
tion of Spenser. Yet at the close of his life he could write 
Spenserian Stanzas on Charles ArmUage Browne in a vein 
of good-humoured personal satire much cultivated in the 
Eighteenth Century and given consummate expression, as 
we shall see in Thomson's GasUe of Indolence. Like any 
Augustan-Spenserian, he gave his own turn to the episode of 
Artegall and the giant in a Spenserian Stanza of political 

'* In after-time, a sage of mickle lore 
Yclep'd TjpographoB, the Giant took, 
And did refit his limbs as heretofore, 
And made him read in manj a learned book ; 
Thereby in goodly themes so training him. 
That all his bratishness he quite forsook. 
When meeting Artegall and Talus grim. 
The one he struck stone-blind, the other's eyes woz dim.'* ' 

* Yet they deluded the fine insight of his doting friend, Charles Lamb. 
"I want room to tell you how we are charmed with your yerses in the 
manner of Spenser" {Letters to Coleridge, No. 2, 1796). The Blossoming 
of the Solitary Date-Tree, in the old stanza of Phineas Fletcher's Purple 
Island has some of Coleridge's elusive magic but none of Spenser's. 

' The episode in question occurs in The Faerie Qiuene, 5, 2. To Spenser 
the giant's radical notions were naturally revolting and the henchman of 
Justice kicked him off a cliff. To Keats, with his eyes dilated by the 
French Revolution and by many new political visions, the giant's spirit 
of revolt was crude but far more worthy than Artegall' s inflexible con- 

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\*. v 





This study would be warped if, after such mdnotonous 
emphasis on the neo-classical side of Spenserianism, it failed 
to consider the development of the real romantic poetry. 
My purpose has been to protest against the common fallacies 
that Spenser was antipathetic to the Augustans and that an 
interest in the Faerie Qiieejie spelt romanticism. Before I 
discuss the mingled classicism and romanticism in Thomson 
I wish to consider one poet who shows definite romantic 
tendencies early in the Eighteenth Century and several 
genuine romanticists who will show us how diflferent were 
their characteristics from the sort of thing we have been 

^Of coarse no absolute line of demarcation can be drawn. But I 
readily place the following poems under the Augustan-Spenserian g^up 
already discussed as containing no qualities that warrant detailed treatment. 
The PastoraU of Ambroee Philips (1709), like Pope's, have many definite 
echoes of Spenser and are excellent examples of neo-classicism. With 
these group Congreve's The Mourning Muae of Alexis (1695); Qay's 
ShephercPs Week (1714), which avowedly borrows its general scheme from 
Spenser and which really makes use of the homely rusticity of The Shep- 
hearda Calender both for purposes of burlesque and to make verse of genuine 
picturesque attractiveness ; Elijah Fenton's FlorelliOf A Pastoral Lamenting 
the Death of the Late Marquis of Blandford (1717 ) with its definite reference 
to Spenser's Astrophel; Moses Browne's Piscatory Eclogues (1727-29), with 
its interesting preface ; Mrs. Mary Leapor's The Month of August in which 
a shepherdess instead of a shepherd laments an unrequited love and expires 
elegantly of a broken heart ; John Whalley's Thenot and Cuddy (1738), a 
typical example of academic activity of this kind ; Sir William Jones's 
well-known versification of Steele's pastoral allegory on Spenser and other 
bucolic poets in the Ouardianf etc., etc. For other examples of the formal 
** Imitation": — Mrs. Mary Leapor (1742-46) imitated Spenser's episode 
of the ^* maske of Cupid" in her Temple of Love, In a vision an attractive 
pageant goes through the Temple of Venus. The poet's eyes are dazzled by 
Pride, Riot, Flattery, Pomp, Folly, Suspicion, Rage. Palace and pageant 
vanish and, in a feeble light the poet sees an abbey. About a pale ruined 
girl throng Reproach, Revenge, hollow-eyed Despair, etc. Samuel Croxall 
should be mentioned for : An Original Canto of Spenser (1713), Ode to the 
King (1714), Another Original Canto (1714), and The Vision (1725). 
Another Original OantOf the only one of these poems I have leen, is merely 

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William Thompson is something of a romanticist, in so 
far as he looks back to the Age of Elizabeth, but with no 
anticipatory tendencies. There is genuine poetry to be 

a clever use of Spenser for purposes of political allegory. The Fair Clrcas- 
dan (1720), a paraphrase of the CanticleSf is mentioued by some critics in 
this connection. It does not seem to me to turn from its original to follow 
Spenser in any marked way. To Professor Edward Payson Morton I owe 
a record of a fragment after the manner of Spenser, in heroic couplets, by 
George Sewall {A New Collection of Original Poem8j 1720). In 1746 appeared 
two conventional Spenserian poems by Thomas Blacklock : A Hymn to Divine 
Love (ababbcbcC) and Philantheus : A Monody. In 1768 a collected 
edition of the sonnets of Thomas Ekiwards, author of the ireful Canons of 
CriUdsm and stardy lover of Spenser, was published. Some of the sonnets 
are in the seldom essayed Spenserian form and others, such as On (Ae 
Qinlos of Spenser' 8 Fairy Queen lost in the passage from Ireland, bristle with 
allusions to the master. In William Mason's Musaeus: A Monody to the 
Memory cf Mr. Pope (1747) various poets assemble to lament. Spenser is 
given two stanzas (the ababcc of Januarie and December) , wherein the 
manner and even the particular archaisms of The Shepheards Calender are 
imitated, and three regular Spenserian stanzas in the style of the Faierie 
Qiieene, In 1755 appeared Ck>melius Arnold's The Mirror, Spenserian 
stanzas on Westminster Abbey {Oenileman^s Magazine for August), and 
Lewis Bagot's imitation of the Epithalamion (in Graiulatio Academics 
OaniabrigiensiSf etc, on the marriage of George III and Charlotte). In the 
flame year Charles Emily wrote The Praises of Isis, a close though not 
acknowledged imitation of Spenser's episode of the marriage of the Thames 
and the Medway (published in Dodsley, ed. 1763, vol. 1, p. 26). The 
scheme of Mason's Musaeus was followed by Philip Doyne in The Triumph 
of Parnassus, A Poem on the Birth of His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales 
(1763). The advent of the royal babe is first celebrated by Collin in a long 
speech in Spenserian stanzas steeped in allusions to all parts of The FaJerie 
Queene, Cowley sings with Pindaric rage, Prior furnishes some Prior- 
Spenserian stanzas, Ossian and others appear. Doyne wrote also Irene, A 
Oomio on the Peace; Written in the SUmza of Spencer, a political allegory. 
William Blake's Poetical Sketches (written between 1768 and 1777, pub- 
liahed 1783) contains An Imitation (^Spencer, little more than an invocation 
to Apollo, Mercury, and Pallas, probably the boyish beginnings of an 
ambitious work. Although Blake was strongly influenced by the Eliza- 
bethans at this time the Imitation is purely Augustan. Evidently the 
young poet was non-plussed by the difficulties of the Spenserian form for 
some of his stanzas are irregular in rime scheme and in the final alexan- 

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made, not only by the lofty buccaneering of a Milton, but 
in the humbler thefts of a gentle spirit steeped in the good 
things of the Titans. William Thompson, stealing with all 
the rapturous eclecticism of an irresponsible butterfly, is 
writing minor but charming poetry. He should be better 
known. It takes a certain amount of genius to echo with 
felicity. Thompson had a very catholic taste. He admired 
Elizabethan, Marinist, Augustan. But he sounded none of 
the new notes that we shall find in the new romanticism. 

His first Spenserian imitation, An EpUhalamium on the 
Royal Nuptials^ in May^ 17S6y borrows freely but delicately 
from Spenser^s marriage of the Thames and the Medway and 
from the EpUhalamion. A band of nymphs awaits the 
royal pair. 

'* The wanton Naids, Doris* daoghten all 
Range in a ring : Pherusa, blooming fair, 
Cjmodooe dove-ey'd, with Fiorimal 
Sweet-smelling flowrets deck'd their long green hair, 
And Erato, to Love, to Venus dear, 
Galene drest in smiles and lilj-white, 
And Phao, with her snowj bosom bare, 
All these, and more than these, a daintj sight ! ^ 
In daunce and merriment and sweet belgards delight'' 

The same year was productive of another poem in Spen- 
serian stanzas : The Nativity^ a College Exerciee. Thompson 
begins with a familiar Spenserian trick : 

*' A shepherd boj (young Thomalin he hight) " 

^Compare the following, FoJerie Qutene^ 4, 11, sts. 48, sq.: 
** All which the Oceans daughter to him bare 

The gray eyde Doris : all which fifty are," 
"Fairest Pherusa," 
'' And she that with her least word can asswage 

The surging seas, when they do sorest rage, 

'' All goodly damzels deckt with long greene haire," 
" With Erato that doth in love delight," 
" Galene glad,'* ** Phao liUy white." 

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was Singing of "David's Holy Seed'' and a vision came 
upon him. 

'' EftaooDs he spj'd a grove, the Season's pride. 
All in the centre of a pleasant glade, 
Where nature flourished like a virgin-bride ; 
Mantled with green, with hyacinths inlay* d, 
And crystall-rills oe'r beds of lillies stray'd. 
The blue-ey'd violet and the king-cup gay. 
And new blown roses, smiling sweetly red, 
Outglowed the blushing infancy of Day, 
While amorous west- winds kist their fragrant souls away.'' 

Here was a pavilion wherein Mary sat on an ivory throne 
with Christ in her lap. Faith, Hope, Charity, Humility, 
and many more beautiful women came to worship. The 
poem closes with a tribute to Pope's Messiah. 

Thompson's best piece was An Hymn to May. For its 
romanticism he has interesting defense. ^^I hope I have no 
apology to make for describing the beauties, the pleasures, 
and the loves of the season in too tender or too florid a 
manner. The nature of the subject required a luxuriousness 
of versification, and a softness of sentiment ; but they are 
pare and chaste at the same time ; otherwise this canto had 
neither ever been written nor oflFered to the public.^' Here 
is romanticism of a kind. But Thompson uses many neo- 
classical authorities for his statements, including Scaliger, 
Davenant, and Prior. The coming of May is described 
with sensuous detail. From the. earth spring rich flowers. 
As in Spenser's EpithaUvmion there is a prayer against evil 

" In this blest season, pregnant with delight, 
Ne may the boading owl with screeches wound 
The solemn silence of the quiet night 
Ne croaking raven, with nnhallow'd sound 
Ne damned ghost affray with deadly yell 
The waking lover, raise' d by nightly spell, 
To pale the stars till Hesper shine it back to HelL 

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" Ne witches rifle gibbets, bj the moon, 

Ne let hobgoblin, ne the ponke profane 

With shadowj glare the light, and mad the bursting bndn." ' 

" Yet fairy-elves (so ancient eastern* s will) 
May gambol or in valley or on hill, 
And leave their footsteps on the circled green. 
Full lightly trip it, dapper Mab, around ; 
Full featly Ob'ron, thou, o*er grass-turf bound : 
Mab brushes off no dew-drops, Ob'ron prints no ground." 

But Thompson imitated Spenser in the pure Augustan 
manner in the second canto of SvcknesSy a poem in blank 
verse. A description of the Palace of Disease is preluded 
with an invocation to Spenser. The poet will tread drearj 
paths, by mortal foot 

'* Bare visited ; unless by thee, I ween, 
Father of Fancy, of descriptive verse, 
And shadowy beings, gentle Edmund, hight 
Spenser ! the sweetest of the tuneful throng. 
Or recent, or of eld. Creative bard. 
Thy springs unlock, expand thy fairy scenes, 
And with thy images enrich ray song." 

Various allegorical figures, Fever, Dropsy, and others 
appear. The description of Melancholy, a close copy of 
Spenser's Despair may be quoted as an example. 

** Next, in a low-brow* d cave, a little hell, 
A pensive hag, moping in darkness sits 

»Cf. Epiihalamion^ 11. 332, sq.: 

** Let no lamenting cryes, nor dolefull teares. 
Be heard all night within, nor yet without : 

Ne let the Pouke, nor other evil sprights 

Ne let mischeivous witches with theyr charmes, 

Ne let hobgoblins, names whose sense we see not, 

Ne let the shriech oule, nor the storke be heard, 
Nor let the night raven that still deadly yels, 
Nor damned ghosts cald up by mighty spels," etc. 

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Dolefollj-sad ; her eyes (so deadlj-dall !) 
Stare from their stooied sockets, widely wild ; 
Forever bent on rusty knives and ropes." ' 

Most of Thompson's poems were written in youth. SicJcTiess 
lead us to suspect that had he continued he would have 
fossilized into a pure Augustan. He made a wide but 
short-lived reputation and surely had no appreciable influ- 
ence in the rise of romanticism.^ 

We can afford to turn now to the more radical romanti- 
cists and to see what entirely different paths they hewed out. 
A few examples will suffice. Then, with a clear under- 
standing of the workings of classicism and romanticism 
among the Spenserians we shall be prepared to examine the 
conflicting elements in Thomson's CasUe of Indolence and all 
their significance in relation to the greatest metamorphosis 
in the history of English Literature.* 

^See Faerie Queene, 1, 9, sts. 33, sq., for strong verbal resemblances. 

' Thompson was also one of the few who wrote Spenserian sonnetB. See : 
Ocwden Inscriptions: I) On Spenser^ a Faerie QueenCj 2) On Spenser^ 8 Shep- 
herd^ 8 Oalendcur, (printed only in Fawkes* and Woty*s Poetical Oodendar^ 
1763, vol. 8, p. 97). 

' I catalogue here a few poems that show interesting anticipatory quali- 
ties but which need not receive detailed treatment at a time when scholar- 
ship is only too busy finding heralds of romanticism real and fancied. 
William Collins, at his best the truest and most visionary of the early 
romanticists, shows interesting evidence of Spenserian inspiration in a long 
passage at the beginning of his Ode on the Poetical Character, William 
Helmoth was one of those interesting Eighteenth Century country gentle- 
men without any genius who, being far from the modish town, satire, and 
dull Occasional Poems, could contribute to the revival of romanticism by 
his leisurely pursuits. In bis once popular Fitzosbomt^s Letters (To Timo- 
clea, October 1, 1743) he writea his sentimental fair friend : ** But, though 
you ha/e drained me of my whole stock of romance, I am not entirely 
onprovided for your entertainment." Whereupon he transcribes The 
Tran^ormation of Lycon and Eaphormius in Spenserian stanzas. The tale, 
however, has little that can be called ** romance '* from our point of view. 
A quickened appreciation of nature that may be called romantic is apparent 
in The SeagonSj a poem in Spenserian stanzas by Moses Mendez (1751) and 

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Every student of the history of literature knows that a 
mediocre poem may fire a chorus of geniuses with an inspira- 
tion of which its poetaster never dreamed. Of all the Spen- 
serian poems of the Eighteenth Century James B eattie^s 
commonplace Minstrel had by far the widest influence^^ \ 
letter to Dr. 151ackloek (September' 22, 1766) reveals him 
in the process of composition and contains the best remarks 
on the Spenserian stanza that had yet been written : 

'< Not long ago I began a poem in the style and stanza of Spenser, in 
which I propose to giye full scope to my inclination, and to be either dioU 
or pathetic, descriptiye or sentimental, tender or satirical, as the homour 

in B. Potter's A Farewell Hymn to the OowUrtfy Attempted in the Manner of 
Speneer^s EpUhalamion (1749), a dose copy both of the intricate stania- 
form of Spenser's marriage hymn and of its rich mosic. Mr. Beers has 
well noted in William Julius Mickle's The Omcubine, A Poem in the Manr 
ner of Speneer (1767) a feeling for nature that may have influenced 
Scott. The plot of the poem, however, a rather powerful picture of an ill- 
considered marriage, is quite Augustan in its didactic treatment of country 
squire and wanton servant Mrs. Tighe's Psyche (written before the end 
of the century but not published until 1805) is famous for its influence 
over the young Eeats. It is a fluent, sensuous, somewhat langorous poem, 
the work of a talented lover of Spenser, and transitional from the artificial 
spirit of the Eighteenth Century to the freer expression of the new era. 
The first two cantos give the regular version of Psyche's marriage with 
Cupid and of the ruinous influence of her jealous sisters. The later trials 
of Psyche are related with some romantic freedom but with much allegory 
of the Augustan-Spenserian kind. Psyche is befriended by a stranger 
knight and his squire. Constancy. Passion in the form of a lion appears 
but is submissive when he sees the knight They arrive at the Bower of 
loose Delight A dove saves Psyche from a perilous draught by dashing 
the cup from the tempting hand of the queen of the bower. They escape 
through wild ways to a hermit's cell where they remain for a time. Psyche 
is betrayed into the subtle net of Ambition but is rescued by her knight. 
Psyche is then tortured by the hag Credulity and led to the Blatant 
Beast, who is driven away by her knight. In the Castle of Suspicion, 
Gklyso shows her a false vision of Cupid in the Bower of loose Delight 
Other adventures at the Palace of Chastity, the Coast of Spleen, Glacella's 
ice-palace on the Island of Indifference follow. At last Psyche is brought 
by her knight (Cupid of course) to Venus and reconciled. 

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strikes me ; for, if I mistake not, the manuer which I have adopted admits 
equally of all these kinds of composition. I have written one hundred 
and fifty lines, and am surprised to find the structure of that complicated 
stanza so little troublesome. I was always fond of it, for I think it the most 
harmonious that ever was contrived. It admits of more variety of pauses 
than either the couplet or the alternate rhyme ; and it concludes with a 
pomp and majesty of sound which, to my ear, is wonderfully delightful. 
It seems also well adapted to the genius of our language, which, from the 
irregularity of inflexion and number of monosyllables, abounds in diversi- 
fied terminations, and consequently renders our poetry susceptible of an 
endless variety of legitimate rhymes. But I am so far from intending 
this performance for the press, that I am morally certain it never will be 
finished. I shall add a stanza now and then, when I am at leisure, and 
when I have no humour for any other amusement ; but I am resolved to 
write no more poetry with a view to publication, till I see some dawnings 
of a poetical taste among the generality of readers, of which, however, 
there is not at present anything like an appearance.'' 

Beattie shows the bookish man's ignorance of his times. 
The public was waiting to devour stuff like The MinstreL 
And when he did publish the first book^ in 1771^ there was 
a thunder of applause. The poem ran through four editions 
before the second book appeared in 1774. He was lionized 
in London even by the most distinguished. Beattie's Min- 
strel may be compared with Pere Wagner's Simple Life. If 
a man can present^ with the gesture of a prophet^ a cleverly 
written compendium of the truisms long mouthed by the 
populace^ neatly veneered and labelled "High Art," he 
may appear, for a time, both to the wise man and the fool, 
to be a genius. Professor Beers has admirably summed up 
the qualities of The Minstrel: 

''It was in the Spenserian stanza, was tinged with the enthusiastic 
melancholy of the Wartons, followed the landscape manner of Thomson, 
had el^;aic echoes of Gray, and was perhaps not unaffected in its love of 
mountain scenery by MacPherson's ' Ossian.' But it took its title and its 
theme from a hint in Percy's * Essay on the Ancient Minstrels.' " 

There is no plot. Edwin, a very sentimental and unprim- 
itive bard, wanders about aimlessly and finally meets a 

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hermit who tells him all about the divinity of nature and 
the degeneracy of man. But Beattie had a considerable 
talent for mellifluous verse and be was astute enough to 
avoid mere mechanical Spenserian affectations. Sometimes^ 
as in Edwin's vision of the fairies, the verse is genuinely 

*' Anon in yiew a portal's blazonM arcb 
Arose ; the trumpet bids the valves anfold ; 
And forth an host of little warriors march, 
Grasping the diamond lance, and targe of gold. 
Their look was gentle, their demeanour bold, 
And green their helms, and green their silk attire ; 
And here and there, right venerablj old, 
The long -rob' d minstrels wake the warbling wire. 
And some with mellow breath the martial pipe inspire.'' 

The influence of The Minstrel was immense for over sixty 
years after its appearance.^ We must treat only the greatest 
poem inspired by it — Byron's Childe Harold. The first two 
cantos appeared in 1812 and Byron continued the poem 
through the best years of his maturity. Much of the 
material of Childe Harold was in the air all over Europe, 
but its dependence in general scheme upon The Minstrel was 
absolute and has never been sufficiently emphasized.^ Byron 
was chafing to express his clamoring restive individuality. 
In the sentimental Edwin roaming the solitudes he saw a 

^ E, g, : — John Herman Merivale began his career by : The Minstrel, or 
The Progress of Qcnius, In Continuation of Dr, Beattie, Miss Hunt (in 
Poems chiefly by Oentlemen of Devonshire and Cornwall — 1792); Written on 
Visiting the Ruins of Dunkerwell Abbey in Devonshire, September, 1786. 
Hector Macneill : The Pastoral, or Lyric Muse of Scotland (1801). Bernard 
Barton : Fancy and Imaginaiion, Power and Benevolence, Stanzas Selected 
from * The Pains of Memory,* Stanzas addressed to Percy Bysshe Shelley, etc. 
William Millar : The Fairy Minstrel (1822 ). John Wright . The Beirospeci 
(1824). Professor Wilson (Christopher North): Waking Dreams, The 
Children's Dance, etc. 

' Though Byron himself mentions Beattie as an authority on the Spen- 
serian stanza in his preface to Childe Harold, 

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vast opportunity. He created the wayward Child Harold 
who was to have the same irresponsible career. His travels 
gave him a treasure of material for a vagrant hero of this 
sort who had nothing to do but wander everywhere and 
express himself. For the great burst of eloquence in Childe 
Harold there were^ allowing for inferior genius^ some notably 
suggestive passages in Beattie. One of many stanzas will 
illustrate Beattie in these exalted moods. 

'' Hall, awfal scenee, that calm the troubled breast, 
And woo the weary to profound repose 1 
Can passion's wildest uproar lay to rest, 
And whisper comfort to the man of woes I 
Here innocence may wander, safe from foes, 
And Contemplation soar on seraph wings. 
O Solitude 1 the man who thee foregoes, 
When lucre lures him, or ambition stings, 
Shall never know the source whence real grandeur springs." 

Beginning with a sentimental spoiled child for a hero 
and archaizing with amusing artificiality and capriciousness 
Byron abruptly cast off the few remaining shackles of 
Augustan imitation and became true to his own fiery roman- 
ticism. His splendid and defiant music, generous, selfish, 
noble, rebellious, rings in the ears of everyone. Thus the 
spirit of The Faerie Qiieene came through tortuous paths to 
become metamorphosed into the spirit of Childe Harold. 

It is well to glance again at Keats, the truest Spenserian 
that ever lived, to see how differently he follows his master 
when moved by a purely romantic mood as compared to 
his ways in his experiments with Augustan-Speuserianism 
already mentioned. Cowden Clarke's delightful story of 
how he awakened the poetic impulse in Keats by reading 
Spenser's EpUhalandon is too familiar for quotation. But 
though Spenser was Keats' first chosen master we find also 
the intermediary influence of such Spenserians as the late 
Augustans, Leigh Hunt, his somewhat effeminate mentor, 

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and the garrulous William Browne.^ We liave already 
noted some late specimens of mixed Spenserianism. The 
Cap and Bells or The Jealousies is his most complex piece 
of Spenserianism. This unfinished attempt to write a popu- 
lar humourous fairy-tale in Spenserian stanzas was done 
towards the close of his life in the very grip of Giant 
Despair. Keats worked with real enthusiasm^ but it was 
a pathetic attempt to play the motley with a cracked heart 
Eighteenth Century Spenserianism and Byronic satire jostle 
along side by side with the spirit of The Faerie Queene. 
There are some good stanzas in the poem^ especially some 
gay colored city pictures. 

'' The mom is full of holiday ; loud bells 
With liyal clamours ring from everj spire ; 
Cunningly-station'd music dies and swells 
In echoing places ; when the winds respire, 
Light flags stream out like gauxy tongues of fire ; 
A metropolitan murmur, lifeful, warm, 
C!ome8 from the northern suburbs ; rich attire 
Freckles with red and gold the moving swarm ; 
While here and there clear trumpets blow a keen alarm. 

'* Onward we floated o'er the panting streets, 
That seemed throughout with upheld faces paved ; 
Look where we will, our bird's-eye vision meets 
Legions of holiday ; bright standards waved, 
And fluttering ensigns emulously craved 
One minute's glance ; a busy thunderous roar, 
As when the sea, at flow, gluts up once more 
The craggy hollowness of a wild reefed shore." 

The child Keats is alert again for a moment. The ghost 
of Spenser walks in modem London-town and^ with a touch 
of his wand, transforms its sooty grandeur into glimmering 
Thule. But the poem is from the flotsam and jetsam of 
Keats^ mind. 

^ These influences have received final treatment in Mr. Selincourt's 
well-known edition of Keats. 

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Eighteenth Centurj Spenserianism is not a part of the 
great poetry of Keats. And all that remains of the Huntean 
worship of Spenser as a divine confectionery is only beauti- 
ful in the mature works. Porphyro, heaping the candied 
apples, quinces, and manna and dates from Fez in golden 
dishes, regardless of lurking foes, while his Madeline slept an 
azure-lidded sleep, the delight in '^ blanched linen, smooth, 
and lavender'd,*^ hushed carpets that should never have 
been put into real castles — these are relics of the delicious- 
ness of Hunt — but sheer poetry. The Eve of St. Agnes has 
more of the spirit of Spenser than any poem since The Faerie 
Queene. Yet the microscope reveals little or no tangible 
imitation. We have here the essence of romanticism — to 
follow subtly and deeply where the neo-classicists followed 
superficially and mechanically. For once, at least, the 
unfortunate critic who deals with the deceitful matters of 
literary influences must be allowed to say that Keats divined 
the essence of Spenser and recreated him. If I could label 
the magic I could write you the poem. There is more 
than Spenser in The Eve of St. Agnes. But that is not 
my province. Let me quote two stanzas which I would 
describe as sheer Spenser if they were not also sheer Keats 
who, &r the moment, is the bard of The Faerie Qrieene in a 
new incarnation. 

''A casement high and triple-arch' d there was, 
All garlanded with careen imageries 
Of fruits, and flowers, and hunches of knot-grass, 
And diamonded with panes of quaint device, 
Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes, 
As are the tiger-moth's deep-damask' d wings ; 
And in the midst, 'mong thousand heraldries, 
And twilight saints, and dim emblazonings, 
A shielded skutcheon blush' d with blood of queens and kings. 

' Full on the casement shone the wintry moon. 
And threw 'warm gules on Madeline's fair breast, 

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Ab down she knelt for heayen's ^race &nd boon ; 
Bose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest, 
And on her silver cross soft amethyst, 
And on her hair a glory, like a saint : 
She seem'd a splendid angel, newly drest, 
Save wings, for heaven : — Porphyro grew faint : 
She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint*' 

We are now prejgared to j^ppreciate Thqmson^s jpceat 
totDsitional poem with ajjg gg-yision ^f what was past and 
future for him. The Ca stle of Indolence is ot absorbing 
i nterest to the most u nimpassioned historical student^ of 
li terature because of its extraordinarjr blend of Augu stan and 
romantic elements and of equally^absor bing i nterest tpany 
catholic mind^ lover of _^ beca use these elemen ts 
combine remarkably to make a masterpiece. 

"T}he Oadle of IndoJerice appeared in 1748. Beginning 
years before as a mere piece of good-natured satire on his 
friends who had frequently accused him of indolence^ it 
grew into a very serious and ambitious poem. Mr. Phelps 
quotes from the preface, which , says that " The obsolete 
words, and simplicity of diction in some of the lines, which 
borders on the ludicrous, were necessary to make the 
imitation more perfect," and suggests that the School-midress 
of Shenstone had something to do with the making of 
Thomson's poem. This is no doubt true. But there is an 
abundance of evidence of Spenser's first hand influence. 
Indeed we are told by g hiels in his Life of T homsoik : ^Ijlfi-. 
often s aid that if he had anything excellent in poetry, he 
owed it toTEe mspiration he first received from reading the 
* Fairy Queen ' in the very early part of his life.'' The 
descriptions of tiie land of Indolence, especially some of the 
opening stanzas, were probably influenced by Spenser's 
description of the dwelling of Morpheus.^ There is a 

^Compare especiallj canto 1, stanzas 8 and 4, beginning, ** Was nooght 
aroand bat images of rest,'' and Faerie Queene^ 1, 1, 40 and 41. Compart 
with these also : QuUe of Inddaute^ c. 1, 43 and 44. 

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'^ Mirror of Vanity?" a magic crystal globe^ in which the 
dreamers delighted to see : 

** Still as 70a turned it, all things that do pass 
Upon this ant-hill earth ; where constantly 
Of idlj-busj men the restless fry 
Bun bustling to and fro with foolish haste, 
In search of pleasures vain that from them flj, 
Of which, obtainM, the caitiffs dare not taste." 

This derives from Merlin's magic " glassy globe " wherein 
Britomart first saw Arthegal. 

** Who wonders not, that reades so wondrous worke? 
But who does wonder, that has red the Towre 
Wherein th' Aegyptian Phao long did lurke 
From all mens vew, that none might her discoure, 
Yet she might all men vew out of her bowre ? 
Great Potlomaee it for his leman's sake 
Ybuilded all of glasse, by Magicke powre. 
And also it impregnable did make ; 
Yet when his love wasNfalse he with a peaze it brake." ^ 

The Knight of Arts and Industry, who overthrows the 
Castle of Indolence, the son of rough Selvaggio who violated 
Dame Poverty, spending his youth running wild in the 
forest, is the descendant of Spenser's Sir Satyrane, whose 
mother Thyamis was ravished by Therion, " a loose unruly 
swayne," and who was taught to roam the woods without 
fear. The Knight's companion, the bard, " in russet brown 
bedight,'^ suggests the palmer who was Sir Guyon's mentor 
on a similar quest : the destruction of the Bower of Bliss. 
The net in which the Knight entraps the wizard is like the 
net in which Guyon entangles the enchantress Acrasia. 
These and many more relics of the Faerie Queene were 
skillfully used by Thomson. 

The satirical and humorous aspects of Thomson, whether 
suggested by Shenstone or not, lie far below any superficial 

> a o/L, c. 1, 8(8. 49, sq., and F. Q.f 8, 2, sts. 18, sq. 

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influence. Thomson was a jolly good fellow. The spirit of 
burlesque appears in his earliest works.^ Even the ponder- 
osity of his Seasons is occasionally lightened by a passage of 
merry Miltonism in the vein of The Splendid Shilling. The 
early edition of Autumn contained a description of a drink- 
ing-bout so uproarious that Lyttleton saw fit to strike it out 
in the reissue of 1760. Th e spiri t of ^ntle satire is one of 
the prime charms of The CasUe of Indolem s 'SJid RSfy^ 'nai'^ 
be depreciated by those who go to Thomson onl^for roman^ 


r \,V ticism. Evi(ieriTry""6Dly a^ genius was required to make 

Augustan-Spenserianism thoroughly admirable. There is 
fun worthy of Chaucer in the waggish description of 
Murdoch^ Thomson^s pastoral friend and biographer. 

'^ Full oft bj holj feet onr ground was trod ; 

Of clerks good plentj here you mote espy. 

A little, round, fat, oily man of God 

Was one I chiefly marked among the fry : 

He had a roguish twinkle in hb eye, 

And shone all glittering with ungodly dew. 

If a tight damsel chaunoed to trippen by ; 

Which when obserred, he shrunk into his mew, 
1 And straight would recollect his piety anew.'* 

Of the romanticis m of Th e^Oastle o f Jndok n^, «^ p^g^- 
comes from^ Spenseri an lov e of sensuous detail^ but a more 
striking part comes ^om a n ew j^ad JOOmeotOM ^iut Jhat 
takes no suggestion from The Faerie ^ueene. Full of Spen- 
ser's dreams he wrote : 


' A pleasing land of drowsy-head it was ; 

Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye ; 
I And of gay castles in the clouds that pass, 
• Forever flushing round a summer-sky. 
J There eke the soft delight, that witchingly 

Instil a wanton sweetness through the breast. 

And the calm pleasures, always hover'd nigh ; 

But whatever smackM of noyance, or unrest. 

Was far, far off expell'd from this delicious nest" 

' See Lizmfs Parting vfUh her OoU and On the Hoop in his Juvenile Poetry, 

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Even here there is a spirit of suggestion that Spenser, 
because of his very love of tangible lovely details, did not 
characteristically employ. An oft-quoted stanza will illus- 
trate perfectly how fer Thomson wandered into new myste- 
rious regions. 

" As when a shepherd of the Hebrid-Isles, ^v 

Placed fsLt amid the melancholjr main, ^^ 

(Whether it be lone Fancy him begoiles ; 
Or that aSrial beings sontetimes deign C 

To stand embodied, to onr senses plain), \ 

Sees on the naked hill, or rallej low, \ 

The whilst in ocean Phoebns dips his wain, ^ 

A vast assembly moTing to and fro : \ 

Then all at once in air dissolves the wondrons show.'' \ 

However dim and shadowy Spenser's beings were he never 
questioned their reality. This question, *' Is it reality or 
delusion ? '\ this spirit of pampering a delightful doubt is 
a new current in English romanticism. It could not exist 
in England until after the Augustan age of reason. Then 
sceptical reason, combined with the luxurious dreams of 
Spenser which their creator, while he wrote, never disbe- 
lieved, produced the spirit of delighted doubt which Thom- 
son cherished for brief and wistful moments. To find this 
spirit soaring unfettered England had to wait for the best 
work of Coleridge. It was a new note in poetry. 

Thomson's Ocutle of Indolence is a typical Augustan 
^* Imitation '' of Spenser with a romantic tinge. Its neo- 
classical side is too often forgotten. Its satire and its moral 
allegory is of the very essence of Augustanism. And all 
this is good poetry. The second canto loses quality a little, 
not because it is too Augustan, but because it drops one of 
the Augustan elements — the enlivening sly satire. It is only 
in an occasional stanza that Thomson's wonderful roman- 
ticism gives us the elusive light — the spirit of delighted 

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If my examination of this important chapter in the his- 
tory of English poetry is sound the conclusions are of con- 
siderable moment. Historians of English literature have 
repeatedly stated that Spenser fell upon evil ways in the early 
part of the Eighteenth Century and that the " revival " of 
interest in him was an important force in the rise of roman- 
ticism. Indeed the statements of some critics of the age 
under consideration have yielded support to this notion. 
Thomas Warton wrote of "this admired but neglected poet." 
But what ardent admirer of Spenser in our own day of sup- 
posed enlightenment and catholicity would not echo the 
same phrase with vigor and truth? I am sorry that the 
limitations of this paper forbid me to marshal the long list 
of Augustan critical utterances on Spenser that show that 
they appreciated certain aspects of the master more Ailly 
than we do, that their criticisms are, as a whole, the equals 
of ours. That is reserved for a later study. But I hope 
that my citations from the poets have proved that the 
Augustans followed him with considerable energy if not 
genius, that they followed him as they followed Virgil and 
found little difficulty, on the whole, in reconciling him with 
their classical ideals, that it was long before these Spen- 
serian imitations showed any persistent spark of roman- 
ticism, that the influence of Spenser, then, was not one of 
the great causes of romanticism, and that the phrase " Spen- 
serian Revival" is at least misleading. On the one side 
the essence of Augustanism was to imitate self-consciously, 
superficially, mechanically, whoever the model might be. 
Yet Augustan-Spenserianism, like other forms of Augustan- 
ism, made better poetry, at its best, than we have learned to 
admit If we accept the common notion that The Castle of 
Indolence is a great poem we musb accept Augustan-Spen- 
serianism. On tbe other side the essence of romanticism is 

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to imitate (thongh this word is hateful to romanticists) 
uucoDscioasIy^ subtly, and with pcoud independeaoe. Much 
of the romantic side of Thomson and of many romantic 
Spenseriaus after him is in a spirit unknown to Spenser. | 
For Thomson enriched English poetry with the spirit off 
delighted doubt. "^' 

• Herbert E. Cory. 

. r 

'1 ^. . ^ 

! / 

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The unique quarto to which this title has been given 
was printed at London for Thomas Cadman in 1685. It 
crossed the Atlantic as part of the Bow&nt Library^ and 
was for some time offered for sale in New York, until Mr. 
A. W. Pollard, on his recent visit to this country, bought 
it for the British Museum. It has been privately printed 
in England, with an introduction by Mr. Pollard, to whom 
I am indebted for many courtesies, but otherwise it has not 
been published since the original issue of 1585. It is, 
unfortunately, imperfect, lacking sig. A (title page and three 
other leaves) and beginning on B^ with the latter part of a 
sentence. Apart altogether from its rarity, it has features 
of considerable interest, but before entering upon questions 
of authorship and interpretation, it will be well to put the 
reader in possession of the text. Only obvious errors have 
been corrected, and in these cases the original readings are 
given in footnotes. I have numbered the lines of the 
comedy for reference. 


followeth brought no lesse like to the Queeoes maiestie: &nd al the 
rest that were present : for at his oomming hee caused them to dismount 
themselues and said : 

You must fight no more, most valiant Enightes : Tjolence must giue 
place to vertue, and the Doubtful! hazzard you be in, bj a most noble 
helpe must be ended. Therefore oeasse your fighte and followe me, so 
shall you heare that you would least beleeue, and shall haue with me that 
shal most behooue you. And you fayre Lady, fal into this fellowship, 
where it shall appeare Sibilla said trewe, and your infortunes shall haue 

This said, he bringeth them al to yo place where the Queues Maiestie 
stood (in a fine Bower made of purpose couered with greene luie, and 

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seates made of earthe with sweete smelling hearbes, (euen suche a place 
as 70a shall coniecture) and after some retierence beginning his tale, he< 
shewed a great proofe of his audacity , in which tale if you marke th( 
woords wt^ this present world, or were acquainted with the state of th< 
deuises, you shoulde finde no lesse hidden then vttered, and no lesse vttered ^ 
then shoulde deserue a double reading ouer, euen of those (with whom I ^ 
finde you a companion) that haue disposed their houres to the study of 
great matters. 

Heere followeth Hanetea tale. 

Moste excellent Princes, forepoynted from aboue with youre presence and 
your vertue to profite more then you are aware of, howe much yon are 
bound to the immortall Goddes, and mortall men are bound to you, our 
present case will partely prooue : But before you vnderstand the woorth of 
your yertue, maye it please you to heare the variablenesse of our aduen->. 
tares. Not long since in the Countrie of Gambia which is situate neere the 
mouth of the riche Bluer IndtUy a mightie Duke bare dominion called 
Oeeanon: who had heire to his estate but one onely Daughter named 
Oaudina : this Lady then more fayrer then fortunate, lined most deere to 
her father and best beloued of his people : But to prooue that Beautie is 
not always a benifit, nor highest states be euer the happiest, it chanced 
within a while that (hudina being sought vnto by sundry that were great, 
and serued by many that were worthie, had more competitors of her beautie 
then did either well content her, or proued commodious vnto them : for 
loue, which is not led by order nor chosen by appoyntemente, had limed 
her affections ynreasonably with the liking of a knight, of estate but meane, 
but of value very greate called OorUcwenus who as he exceedinglie loued 
her, so the desires of diners others was somewhat for his glorye, but noth- 
ing for his gain. In smal nroces of time the seecret fires of their fancies "^ 
disoonered by the smoake of their desires, bewrayed this matter vnto her 
father long time before they wonlde. The Duke dissembling what he sawe, ^ 
but determined to disapoynt that he most missliked, neither made challenge 
to the Knighte, nor charged his Daughter for any loue was betwixt them, 
but deuised a way as he thought, more sure, (but as it proued moste sor- 
Towfull) to set these loners asunder by the worke of an inchantresse most 
cunning in her kind : he caused Oontarenus, to be conueyed vp and carried 
in the ayre from the cost of Chmbia to the very bounds of the Oecean sea : 
which cost Oceomon twentye thousande Crownes (a deere price for repent- 
ance : ) but it is no nouelty for Princes to make their wils verie costly, and 
sometime to pay deere for their own displeasures. Oontarenw thus strangely 
deuided from his ioye and perplexed aboue measure was charged by the 
inchantresse to weare this punishment with patience, which necessitie did 
put on, and destiny would put off : and ere seuen yeeres came about, she 
tmely assured him, he should haue for his reward the height of his desire : 

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bat first he Bhould fight with the hardiest knight, and see the worthiest 
Lady of the world. The whilst shee told him, hee most there take the 
gard of a blinde Hermit, who shoulde reoooer hb sight, and he his satis- 
foction, both at one time, so shee lefte him on the earth, and tooke her waj 
again into the ayre. Oaudvna now lacking long that she looked for, the 
sight & seniice of her knight, fel soon in those diseases that accompanj 
snch desires, as to be acombred with mistrust, cnrioeitye, and exceeding 
ynrest. At last **as Princes doe fewe thinges priuilj, bat they haae 
partakers of their Ck>uncel: St heires to crowns lack neaer seraants of 
hope, which be carious to please them:'' The deuise and dealing of 
Occanon came to the eares of his daughter, which beeing told her : And is 
it euen so, quoth Oaudina? care kings for no right? then right cares for no 
kingdomes. It is neither the coart of Oeeanon, nor the countrey of Comb. 
that I can account of, if Oontarenu8 be gone : Farewel most ynhappy 
countrey, and most cruel Father, that tumes me to this fortune, to follow 
my fates, which neyther greatnes of estate nor hazard of mine aduenture 
shal make mee forsake : but if I lose not my life, I wil finde OorUarenuBj if 
he be in the world. This said, she pursueth her most hard determinations, 
and taking onely two Damsels with her in simple habit, with such things 
as were necessary, she straightwaies conueyed her selfe most closely from 
the borders of Camb. & with toyle too long to tell, passed perils past beliefe, 
til at last she arriued at the grate of Sibillaj where, by chaunce she met 
with a most noble knight eclipped Loricus, by loue likewyse drawen thither, 
to learn what should betyde him. This Loricus loued a Laudj that was 
matcblesse, in such maner as is strange, for after much deuise to attaine 
but the fauour that she would be pleased, hee myght but loue her without 
looking froward : and seeing no glaunce of her lyking (his vttermost 
deuotion) to find surely out her fancie (which she carried most closely,) 
he made a straunge assay with all the semblance that might be. He shewed 
to set by her but lightly, that was so sought for of all, and the better to 
oouler the passion, hee was not able to conquer, hee made shew of choise of 
a new mlstris, that lined enery day in her eye : A peece sure of price, but 
farre from such a pearle, as his heart onely esteemed. And to this Idoll he 
seemed to offer all hys loue and seruice, leaning no manner of obseruaunce 
vndone, that to loue appertayned : As wearing her colours on his backe, 
her pictures in his bosome, keeping her company aboue all others, and con- 
tinuing most at her commandement : which espyed by this Lady (that 
indeed was liked no more) for whatsoeuer man may thinke might become 
or content though she cared not for hischoyse, yet [S]he^ shewed scomeof 
his change : and by iealousie disclosed that which loue could not discouer. 
Which Loricus perceiuing, he fel by & by to consider, that the want of his 
worth made hb seruice vnaccepted, and no impossibility in her will to 


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leoeiae one too seme her, that merited the honour of snch fauonr. There- 
fore hee left his owne oountrey, and betooke. himself e altogether to trauel, 
and to armes, desiring with most indeuour bat to deserue that reputation as 
this great and noble mistris woulde but thinke him worthy to be hers, 
though she would neuer bee none of his, so thinking no toyle too tough, 
nor no attempt too hard to attayne to renown, he wandred through the 
world till he came by painfull wayes to SibiUoi grate, where he met with 
Obttdtno. Where these two louers hauing occasion to ynfold al their for- 
tunes : the Lady seeking to know the end of her trauel, and the knight 
aduise for the ease of his hope, they both receiued this answeare of SibUla : 
That as they were nowe coupled by tius fortune, so they should neuer 
depart fellowship, till they had found out a place, where men were most 
strong, women most fayre, the countrey most fertile, the people most 
wealthy, the gouemment most iust, and the Princes most worthy: so 
shoulde the Lady see that would content her, so shoulde the knight heare 
that might comfort him. Now most deere and best deseruing Lady, it 
falles to my purpose, and your praise, to say somewhat of my selfe. Olde 
though yon see me here, & wrinckled and cast into a comer, yet once haue 
I been otherwise : A knight knowne and accounted of, with the best of the 
world : and liuing in court of most fame amongst a swarm of knights and 
Ladies of great woorth and ^ertue, where beauty bade the basse & desire 
sought the gole. It chaunced me to loue a Lady, to be beloued of Loue 
himselfe, if he could but haue seene her : but as she was such as did exoell, 
80 was she of woonderfull condition, wythout disdaine to be desired, but 
most dainty to bee dealt with : for touch her, & she wil tume to 20. diners 
shapes, yet to none but to content, as me thought, that thought stil to touch 
her, was a heauen : & so it seemed by my hold that was so loth to let her 
go. Till (alas) it liked her at last to put on the shape of a Tigris so 
terrible to behold, as I durst hold her no longer, and being so escaped, I 
could neuer more sette eie on her. Madam, thus b^^ my paine, but you 
heare not yet my punishment : beeing shifted from the sighte of that I 
sought aboue the world, and then little delighting to looke on any thing 
els, I tooke by <& by a Pilgrimage to Papko$ in Cyprus j trusting to heare of 
my mistris there, where Venus was most honoured. Whither when I 
came, as I began to step in at the doore of her temple, I was sodainly 
stroken blind : Astonied at my mischaunoe, and vnderstanding not the 
cause thereof, I fell downe on my knees and said : O fairest of the 
Goddesses and farthest from cruelty, what hath been my fault, that thou 
art thus offended ? Thy folly and presumption (quoth Venus Chaplen as 
I gesse) from my youth yp quoth I, haue I euer been an honourer of 
Tertne, a delighter in learning, and a seruaunt of Loue. But it is no 
parted affection quoth he, that Venus wilbe honoured with. Books and 
beauty make no match, and it is an whole man or no man, that this God- 
dease wil haue to serue her, and therwithal taking me by the shoulders, 

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he thrust me out of the Temple. So with sighes and sorrow I sate down 
in the porch, making intercession to Apollo (the peculiar God I honored) 
to haue compassion on mj estate : Now faithfull prayers bejng hard ere 
they be ended : Mereury comes vnto me, and bid me be of good comfort, 
the goddesses be al found to haue this fault : Diana with AeUon : FaUas 
with Arackne : luno with TkrecUu^ were angry aboue measure : so is Venus 
now with thee, the cause with the remedy shall be told thee at JMphos, 
whither straight I must carry thee. Which he had no sooner spoken, but 
by <& by I was set in the temple of ApoUo^ Where first demanding my fault, 
the Oracle made answere : Thy feare and not thy faith : and what quoth 
I, may be my remedy? The best besides the beautifullest, the Oracle 
straight answered. And with this Apollo his priest tooke me by the hand, 
recounting vnto me the whole course of my life, whom I loued, and how I 
lost her. And when I told him of the faithfulnes of my seruice,^ A the 
faithf nines of my meaning, of the yariablenes of her condition, and at the 
last of the fearef nines of her apperance : Ah, good Hemetes quoth he, it i§ 
not the kind of women to be cruell, it is but their countenance, & touching 
their yariablenes who wil not apply himselfe thereto, shall not muche please 
them, nor long hold them, neither is it to be found fault with. Nature her 
elfe loues variety, so it be done without deceit. Nowe for thy faithfulnes 
it sufficeth not, the seruants of VemtB must not onely haue faith, but also 
lacke feare, feare lost thee thy mistris, and thy boldnes to enter into Vemu 
Temple, being vnacceptable, made her strike thee blind. But Apollo bid 
me tell thee, the Gods wil receiue, whom women forsake, thy eyes shut yp 
from delight, shall gene thy minde more open vnderstanding : this punish- 
ment shall be thy profite, Venus can barre thee but from her felicity of 
loue : but for the deuotion thou bearest to Apolloy hee giues thee this gift, 
to be able to discipher the destinie of euery one in lone, and better to 
aduise them, then the best of her Darlings. And furthermore, doth promise 
thee, that in reuolution of yeres thou shalt recouer thy sight : but this shall 
not betide thee till at one time, and in one place, in a countrie of most 
peace, two of the most yaliant knights shal fight, two of the most constant 
loners shal meet, and the most vertuous Lady of the world shall be there 
to looke on. And when thy eyes shal beholde what thy heart delighteth 
in, euen a Lady in whom inhabiteth the most vertue, Learning, and 
beauty, that euer yet was in creature, then shal they be opened, and that 
shall bee thy warrant. 

Al Apollo sayeth is sooth : the while, it is determined that thou shalte 
dwell in an Hermitage, where nothing that longes yntoo Natures vse, shall 
bee lackinge yntoo thee : so sodainelye I was shifted vnto this hill harde 
by, where I haue wintered manye ayeere farre from the woes and wronges, 
the worlde besides is full of. And nowe beste Ladye and moste beautif ull, 

^ Full stop instead of comma. 

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80 tearmed of the Oracle, and so thought of in the world: what the 
Inchantrease tolde Cbntor^mia .* SibiUa shewed OaudinOf and Loricus: and 
ApoUo said to me, hj joor most happj comming is yeiyfied, The most 
hardj knights OonL and Lori, haue here fought, the most constant Loners 
ConL and Oaudina here be met, and I poore Hemetea (as the knight knowes 
fnl loTig blind) haue receiued my sight Al which happened bj vertue 
of jour grace, which the best so much honor, & we most bound ynto jon : 
and so I present these noble persons to please jou with their seruice, & 
mj self to seme you euer with my prayers, A leaning these Louen to 
their delights, must leaue Lorie, to thia aduise. Knight, prosecute thy 
purpose, it is noble, learning by me not to feare of thy self to take paine : 
remembring, nothing notable is woon without difficulty, Hereuk» had by 
his laboures his renowne, and his end by his Lone : Loricusj thy end wilbe 
reward, at least most reputation, with noblest women most esteemed. But 
I feare I haue too long tyred your most noble eares, & therfore only now 
I beseech your Ma. with your happye presence to honor my poore home, 
whither straight I mean to guide you. 

This Learned or long tale being brought to his end : the poore Hermit 
loden as it were with beades and other such ornaments of his profession, 
be^ns to tread the way before the Queen, which her MaiesUe espying, 
refused her steed, and betook her self in like sort to the yse of her feet, 
A accompanying the Hermit (her self waited on of the rest) fel into some 
discourse & praise of his good tale, which not ended, or rather scarce 
fully begun, the Q. Ma. had in sight the house, which indeede was a place 
by art BO reared from the ground, as neuer before, nor hereafter, shal I see 
ye like. Firat it was inoompassed the number of 200. paces round with 
lattise, the place of the princes entrance bedect with luy <& spanges of gold 
plate^ the glimering whereof was such, that men of great iudgement might 
haue held themselues at stay. The ground from thence reared litle A liUe 
to the altitude of forty foot or more, the path in mounting couered with 
fresh turues, with such art, that a great many made question of his skil, 
which was y« Layer. The way was railed with lattice, beset with sweet 
flowres A luy, as before : aboue in the house was a Table made in order 
of a halfe moon or more, couered wttA green turues (& so replenished wt^ 
sorts of dainty, & those diners dishes belonging to banquet, that the be* 
holdera might wel haue though [t],^ lupii, had hoped the comming, A 
trusted the pleasing by banquet of his faire Ewofpcu ) At one ende therof 
somwhat distant, from y« other, was placed another table (but round) with 
a chayre costly made c^ Oymson velnet, imbrodred with branches <& pic- 
tares of wild beasts & trees, as it had beene a peece of woorke made in the 
desartes. But leaste 1 hold you too longe, this mounte made, aa I haue 
aayde, aboute an Oake, the toppe whereof was inforced by strength too 

> though. 

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bende downe her branches to oouer the house, whiche was done wyth such 
art, that j^ praise of the beholders comming wold haoe sufSoed the woorker 
for his traael : although hee was not so satisfied for his skil, bj more then 
40. pounds. A number of fine Pictures with posies of the Noble or men 
of great credite, was in like sort hanging there, wherewith many were in 
loue, and aboue the rest the French Embassadour, whiche was present at 
these sightes, made great suite to haue some of them. The whiche posies, 
with some perfect note of their pictures, I would haue presented vnto jou : 
but because the Allegories are hard to be vnderstood, without Btaae know- 
ledge of the inuentors, I haue chosen my tjme rather when my selfe shall 
be present, & more the sooner, because I would leaue nothing vnfulfiUed of 
my firste determination. Now HemeUs hauing brought her Maiesty to the 
entraunoe of this place sayde : 

Here most Noble Lady, hauing now brought you to this most simple 
Hermitage, where you shal see smal cunning, but of nature, & no cost, but 
of good wil, my houre approching for my orrisones (which according to 
my TOW I must neuer breake) I must here leaue your maiestie, promising 
to pray, as for my selfe, that whosoeuer wish you best, may neuer wish in 

Thus the Hermite departes, & the Queenes Maiesty addresseth her selfe 
with merry cheere to banqueting, which to encrease a diuine sound of 
ynacquainted instruments in the hollow roome vnder the house, made such 
stroakes of pleasure, & moued such delights, that if Apollo himself e had 
byn there, I thinke hee would haue intreated the learning of their skill, 
or at the leaste forgotten the pleasant remembrance of his sweete Daphnes, 
Her Maiesty thus in the middest of this mirth might espy the Queen of 
the Fayry drawen with 6. children in a waggon of state : the Boies brauely 
attired, & her selfe very costly apparrelled, whose present shew might wel 
argue her immortality, and presenting her selfe to the Queens Maiesty, she 
spake as followeth. 

As I did roame abroade in wooddy range. 
In shade to shun the heate of Sunny day : 
I met a sorrowing knight in passion strange, 
by whom I learned, that coasting on this way 
I should ere long your highnesse here espie, 
to whom who beares a greatar loue then I ? 

Which then tooke roote still mounting yp on height, 

when I behelde you last nigh to this place, 

with gratious speech appeasing cruell fighte. 

This loue hath caused me transforme my face, 

and in your hue to come before your eyne, 

now white, then blacke, your frende the fayery Qneene. 

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Which mftrking all, as all to me is knowen, 
yoor lace, your grace, your gooerment of state, 
yoar paasing sprite whereby yoar Ume is bloweo : 
doe knowe by certein skill you haue no mate : 
and that no man throughout the worlde hath seene 
a prince that may compare with th' English Queene. 

This knowledge kends in me so hot desire 
to see yonr highnesse here in this my walke, 
as since your parting hence I flamMe in fire, 
till your retnme that I might heare yon talke, 
that none to yon a better harte doth beare 
my selfe in speech to yon might make it cleare. 

In signe whereof accept most sacred Qneene, 

this simple token wrought within this woode, 

which as but base so better should haue beene 

If I had not at suddaine vnderstoode 

of your arriuall here, which made me take 

what came to hande, and no great choyse to make. 

Her speache thus ended shee deliuered her gifte, which was a goune for 
her Maiestie of greate price, whereon the imbroderer had bestowed the 
somme of his conning, which she receiued with yelding thanks : to whom 
the layrylQueene replied : 

The thing is farre beneth both your desert, 
and my desire, yet am I glad to heare 
your highnesse take it thus in so good parte, 
which for my selfe, if it like you to weare : 
then shall I reape the frute of happie minde, 
as honored by you the honor of your kinde. 

To gratifie the rest of the Ladies present, there was deuised many ezoel- 
lente and fine smelling Nosegayes made of all cullers to euery one whereof 
was annexed a posy of two yerses, giuen by a handmayde of the fayry 
Queene, and one aboue the rest of greatest price for the Queenes Maiestie 
with her posie in Italian, which because I neither vnderstoode it, nor 
8carce{canne write it to be vnderstood : I leave also till my next comming 
tojvisite^you : for the rest as they weare giuen, I haue sette downe : euery 
seuerall posie was fayre written and bordered about conningly with seuerall 
branches excellent to beholde. 

X. Darby, The vertues foure went wandring once and harbarlesse astray, 
Till Darby gave them roome to rest whereas they now may stay, 
L, WoT' It yonr desertes surpassed not my silly pen and speache, 
wicke. Some other men shuld view them then, which now do passe my 

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X. Hum- For hosbande, children, and your aelfe, or omamentB of fame, 
don. Yon are aboue comparison, a right thrice happie dame. 
L, Ha- The meanes that make a mother bleste, you haue a f rutef ull race, 
ward, A noble dame, a patient wife, whats this but blessed case. 
L. Suaan, Take heede least in a moode, dame Fenua worke jon wooe, 

For spight of right must worke in her, you passe her beautie so. 

L. Mary Where vertue, birth, and beauty to, are thus in one mould cast, 

Vere. This place to simple' is for her seate with gods let her be plast 

Mittris Trustie and true, secrete and sage in place where you do seme. 

Skidmore, With wise foresight these prayses loe yonrworthinesse deserue. 

M, Parry. For longe and faithf ull seniioe sake which hath abidden tuche, 

good Parry is a paragon, shew me a nother suche. 

M. Ab' Qood liking vppon choise made way, to bring you first in place, 

hingion. Which you mainteine by modest meane still in your Frinoee 


Jf. Sidney. Tho yonge in yeares yet olde in wit, a gest dew to your race. 

If you holde on as you begine who ist youle not deface ? 
M. Hopton, When Phdnu saw fayre Hopton come to Court & leaue the towre, 
He spread his beames with merry lookes that erst before did 

M. Kathe- For noble race, and vertues gif tes, compare yon with the best, 
rin Ho- Who list to seeke, in you shall finde, no lesse then in the 

warde. rest 
M, OoT' Whie doe men set their sights to feede on Pictures set in goulde ? 

reL sith Qarret glues the very vewe of natures modest moulde. 
M. Brid" In guesse is guile, coniecti:^ fayle, your graces be well knowen : 
ges. Which who denies, fame saith he lies, by whom the bnite is 
Jf. Bw' Apollo seeing his Burroughes browes his Daphne did forgette, 
rough, so staid in stay, so rapped in loue as he standes musing yet 
Mistris You gallants giue the roome a Dame of price doth come, 
KnowUi. Coniecture what your bragges may be when she hath cast the 
M. Frances Somme say dame nature tooke in care, to keepe Oomeliae moulde, 
Hovoarde. But Howardee 'tis about her neecke eframed in finest goulde. 

I think (good sir) I haue within little repeated the names of those that 
were Ladies and maides of Honor, at these sightes, wherein you shall see 
the yaine, that runneth to the liking of such kinds. Now her Maiestie 
being risen : with good cheere, accompanied with the Queene of the fayrye 
and the Ladye Caudina] she oommeth from her banquite, and at her 
departure the Lady CauMna sayth : 

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Let thankes suffice in worde where streDgth in pow're doth faynte. 

lette pith in prayer from Heauen to craue requite, 

Btande for reward to such a sacred Saint. 

in whom on earth the goddes in Heauen delighte, 

whose moulde when nature made she gan to stande, 

in wonder of the worke she had in hande. 

The goddes for all their good bestowed on man, 
accept our speeche, as f ruite of thankf uU hearte : 
whidi sith it is the vtmost that we can, 
let humble thankes be price for your deserte. 
Contente your selfe with that contentes the gods, 
twixt whome and you I see such little oddes. 

The daye thus spente, her Maiestie tooke her coach with ioy in remem- 
bring what had passed, recounting with her selfe and others how well she 
had[|Bpente the after noone, and as it fell of necessitie in her waye home- 
warde, doselie in an Oke she hearde y« sound both of voice and instrument 
of 'y« ezcelentest now liuing whose pleasantnesse therin bred a great liking 
irHh a willing eare to y« purport which I haue hardly gotten to present you 
withal : assuredlie I see greate inuention therein, and yet no more then 
the lust &une of the deuiser doth both deserue and carrie. 

The 9onge The man whose thoughts against him doe conspire, 
in ihe Oke, in home mishap her story did depante : 
The man of woo, the matter of desire, 
free of the dead that lines in endlesse plainte : 
His sprite am I within this desart wonne, 
to rewe his case whose cause I cannot shune. 

Dispaire my name who neuer seeke releife, 

frended of none, vnto my selfe my foe. 

An idle care mayntayned by firme beleife, 

that prayse of faith shall through my tormentes growe. 
And count the hopes that other hartes doe ease, 
but base oonoeates the common sorte to please. 

I am most sure that I shall not attaine, 

the onely good wherein the ioy doth lye. 

I haue no power my passions to refraine, 

but wayle the want which nought els may supply. 
Whereby my life the shape of death, must beare 
that death, which feeles the worst that life doth feare. 

But what auailes with Tragical complaint, 
not hoping helpe, the furies to awake ? 

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Or why shoald I the happie mindes acquaint 
with dolefull tunes, their setled peace to shake? 
O yee that here behold infortunes fare, 
there is no griefe that maj with mine compare. 

Now was it darke nighte, and her Maiestie filled with conceites, 
retumeth home, leaning earnest command that the whole in order as it 
fell, should be brought her in writing, which being done, as I heare, she 
Ysed, besides her owne skill, the helpe of the deuisors, & how thinges were 
made I know not, but sure I am her Maiesty hath often in speech some 
part hereof with mirth at the remembrance. 

But to keepe my promise for the rest, I will begin in order to make 
you priuy of the sequele : which indeed followeth, as an apt consequent 
to what is past. Therefore shal you vnderstande, that ypon the 20. day of 
the same moneth, the Queene being disposed to spend her time with some 
delightes, this Comedy was presented, acted before her Maiesty. 

And the more to egge you forward with desire of the end, assure your 
selfe, it was as well thought of, as anye thing euer done before her 
Maiestie, not onely of her, but of the rest : in such sort, that her Graces 
passions, and other the Ladies could not shew it selfe in open place more 
then euer hath beene scene. 


1 BozANE Oaudiwu 



dinoB Louer. 

2 OocAKON the Duke. 

7 NiPHE Cau- 

3 Achates hia Ooun- 

dinas other 



4 Queen of the fairy. 

8 Alexandbo and 

5 Caudina ih€ Dukee 

9 GuiLFBiDO, Pa- 




T TEGENKE as yet all here hath fresh in minde, 

a strange adnenture past in act of late, 
How that a Lady borne nigh to the Inde, 
arriued here in quest of louing mate : 
Whom she did finde by such aduentrous sort, 
as erst the Hermite shewed by large report. 

Which Hermit then if you remember well, 
requirde the Prince and Lady of this land, 

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That she with her would let the Ladj dwell : 

and wajting still on her, attend at hande : 10 

And that the Knight in Gonrt there might remajne, 

till that they both returned home agayne. 

Which thing consented too by Princes yoyce, 

they hane pursnde and wayted on the trayne, 

Til late desire hath made them alter choyse : 15 

the Ladies heart stil longing home agayne, 

And glad to winne the Duke her Fathers will : 

for mouing whom she knoweth she hath done yll. 

For though at first in heat she set him light, 

and forst by fathers wrong, went wandring so, 20 

Yet doth she stil suspect strong Natures might, 

who checking chaffe sure workes the chafer woe : 

Which to appeare, is now her chiefe desire, 

and therefore home she meaneth to retire. 

Which thing to compasse well, and leaue no part 25 

of datie ▼n[ful]filde ^ both here and there, 

She with the fairy Qneene is gone apart, 

of whom she hopes the rediest way to heare : 

How to retnme with loue from whence she came, 

as she for loue departed from the same, 30 

Now wil'd she me (as loth to moue offence) 

if she were cald for ere she could come backe, 

To be in place, and not to part from hence, 

that for excuse in me might be no lack : 

Til whose retume faire Ladies if I may, 35 

among you with your leaue I meane to stay. 

AchcUes, Occanon* 

Now good my Lord, let mourning moane haue end, 

the harme is yours, your selfe th[u]8' still to wracke, 

The Heauens I trust some better newes will send, 

the Gk>ds which suffered you these paynes to take, 40 

Intend you to behold with cheerefull eye : 

your helpe is neere, it must of force so be. 

Ocean. In seeking hope, hap flieth stil away, 
my weary corpes is ready for to faynt, 
Then death, that debt which I at length must pay, 45 


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by jeelding life receiae, asd end mj plaint. 
Now is the time most for to pleasure me, 
when I in griefe, doe crane it thus of thee. 

Who hath not heretofore beheld on stage 

the hard conflict which breach of duety breedes, 50 

With natures might in waj to vanquish rage, 

let him behold me and mj daughters deedes : 

Twizt whom, as strange contempt hath caused flame, 

80 nature seekes againe to quench the same. 

She set her lone where she her selfe likt best, 56 

I much mislikt because her choise did light, 

Beneath her birth, though I might like the rest : 

to stay this streame I did all that I might. 

First with perswasions sweete I did beginne, 

to trye if so mj daughter I could winne. 60 

The more I chargde, the sorer she repeld, 

wherefore my labour lost, I changde my way. 

And from my Court her Louer I ezpeld, 

thereby in hope to worke my daughters stay. 

But while I sought to wring her from her loue, 65 

lone wrought her deane from me, as thende did proue. 

No sooner did she finde her selfe alone, 

bereft of him whom she a loue did chuse, 

But secretly her selfe must needes be gone : 

her state, her tndne, her wealth, she did refuse : 70 

And held that happe to be her onely blisse, 

him to inioy whom she in Court did misse. 

Her parting first, because it did proceede, 

from vilde contempt of duety to her Syre, 

Did stirre my choler much, for that her deed, 75 

till nature did arrest, and wrought desire 

To haue my child restorde to me againe, 

whose absence then had wrought my woe and paine. 

Then I began such parentes to accu&e, 

as be too sowre to those they haue begot, 80 

And found of al, them farthest from excuse, 

whose noble state doth make them more of note, 

On them and theirs Loue hath the greatest power, 

therefore on Loue they ought the least to lower, 

A quiet life where neede no labour willes, 85 

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a seemelj face whereon all eyes be cast, 

A diet where desire the heart fulfils, 

A world of sport while day, while night doth last. 

How can these things bat make Lone open a way, 

and fancy force with her delights to play ? 90 

Here did I fayle in seeking to withstand, 

where I confesse the power of lone is most. 

Hence did proceed the leaning of my land 

to finde her out, which I so lewdly lost. 

This is the cause why in such simple case, 95 

I wander seeking her from place to place. 

So as I f eele my weery bones to shrinke, 

not able long my fainting corpes to beare, 

Sleepe doth oppresse my limmes which gin to sinke, 

while slumbring ease reHeaes my toylesome cheare. 100 

J pray yon Sir, depart not hence from me. 

your &ithf ul helpe mainteynes my hope I see. 

AduL I wil my Lord not once part from your side, 
take yon your rest, your trauels doe it crane. 

Here &st by you I am resolued to byde, 105 

to gard you so, as naught your rest deprane. 
The griefe of mind I see works wondrous things, 
commanding al estates both Lords and Kings. 

Bam. O Goddes what iiane I heard, O cruel fates, 
must that needs fal which you wil needs fulfill : 110 

My Lord the Duke to leaue his Princely states, 
and wandring thus to yeeld to Fortunes will? 
Then doe I see that euen as yon please, 

I reape their rest and feele their most disease. 

This haughty Duke which set so light by lone, 115 

as though he could commaund him to obey. 

Doth now himselfe by strange aduentures prone : 

that gainst Loues force no power beareth sway : 

For where Lone lines at will, he soonest dies, 

and where he flaunts at ful thence soonest flies. 120 

But yet to leame more certainly whats past, 

ere that to him my selfe I doe bewray. 

At this good man I meane to haue a cast, 

of whom I will leame out if that I may : 

By way of glaunce who t'is that lyeth heere, 125 

aod what might cause this his so ruthf ul cheere. 

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If t be not he, then is my labour lost, 

and being but few words the cost is small. 

If it be he, then hence straight will I post, 

and to mj Ladies eares reporte it all : 130 

That she therbj maj presently aduise, 

what good therin may to her state arise. 

Good Sir, I see you sad which greeueth me, 

whom cnrchy makes partaker of your woe. 

To ryp your griefe vnpleasant it wil be, 135 

as to all pained soules it is I know : 

Yet if I may finde such grace in your eie, 

tell me what man this is that here doth lie. 

Ach. Faire Lady this your curteons speech doth craae 
disclose of all that careful brest doth hide, 140 

In him that lyeth here the world may haue, 
wherein with maze to let their minds abide. 
A Prinoe he is, whom fortune doth constraine, 
with fruitlesse toyle to trauel stil in vaine. 
Box. A Prince ? I pray you where, and of what land ? 145 

Ach, An Asian Lord the great Gambaian Duke. 
Box. What fate might force him take this toyle in hand ? 
Aeha, To find his daughter out these paines he took. 
Box, Why where is she, how hapt he her to leese? 
Ach, Because in loue her minde he did displease. 150 

Box. Perhaps he did not like where she had lou'd, 
Ach. £uen so it was : for hee from court remould 
her friend, for whom her countrey she forsooke, 
As not of force her Louers lacke to beare : 

which knowen, the Duke to trauel him betooke : 155 

To find her out whom Nature made so deare, 
With mynde resolu'd if he her met againe, 
to thinke such hap sweet pay for all his payne. 
Box. And hath he not as yet heard where she is ? 
Ach, Not yet, but that SibiUa bade him goe, 160 

to such a soyle as I suppose is this, 
and there to haue his hope and end his woe. 

Box. These things be strange, yet stranger things haue been 
accomplisht here, as I my selfe haue seen. 

Well Sir, I am to thinke my selfe much bound, 165 

for this your curchy shew'd at my request, 
And if your ease may grow within this ground, 
by meanes of me, sure I wil doe my best. 
But Sir, may I desire your Princes daughters name ? 

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Aeh, Gkatdina she is called of worthy fame. 170 

Box, I thank you Sir, I can no longer stay, 
but for requite commaund me any way. 

Aeh, I thank you for your curtesie. 

Box. Now to my L. He goe with speed, 
that hearing this she may accordingly proceed. Exil. 175 

Oecanon from ^tepe. 

Ah, ah, it is but vaine to hope in sleepe, 

to purchase ease, where waking fils with care : 

In sleepe I felt my slumbering eies did weepe, 

my heart did pant for griefe in minde I bare. 

Now let vs passe Tnto our ioumeyes end, 180 

til we find out what chance the Gods will send. 

Aeh, My Lord, if words that passe from faithfull heart 
may stay your mynd, my hope here bids me stay, 
For marking all that's here in euery part, 

and minding that which Sibil once did say : 185 

Me thinke this place should be the happy land, 
where we should rest, as she bare vs in hand. 

Besides while you tooke rest, a Lady came 
with shew of griefe, that your mishaps were such, 
And learning both yours and your daughters name, 190 

did passe away : all which perswade me much : 
That if you stay til she agayne retume, 
your heauy heart with ioyf ul newes shal bume. 
Oeea, The neerer hope to haue that I desire, 
to see my child whom I so farre haue sought, 195 

The more I bume, the greater is my fire, 
for feare to faile of that to winne I thought. 
The wished end requites the toile that's past, 
and ioy for griefe is recompense at last. 

What is the force of fathers care I see, 200 

though I my selfe am father to my care. 

To this effect the same hath wrought in me, 

that though it be among examples rare : 

My selfe I haue disrobed of my state, 

to find my child which I did lose of late. 205 

Achcu For great offence my Lord the paiment great, 
the meanest man feeles not the greatest fall. 
You rew with time that you did worke in heat, 
and jet you find to comfort you withal : 

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Thifl cost to SibUUs words so doth agree. 210 

But sir behold what Ladyes do I see : 

The Fairy Queene and Boxane enireth, 

A rojall blood her yertae wil bewra j, 

though Fortune seek her neere so to oppresse, 

And noble race wil not run farre astraj. 

but of her selfe wil worke her owne redresse : 215 

As I m J selfe euen now haue found most true, 

in this your Ladies case whom I so rue. 

She fearing fathers wrath for her offence, 

though by constraint ynkindly causd to stray, 

As she intends with speed departure henoe, 220 

so wil she not but wisely part away, 

And for aduise resorted ynto me, 

to leame what way her best retume might be. 

My Gounoel was, since fates had found the meane, 

the English Queene to make for her defence, 225 

To whose assured stay she might wel leane 

To swage her fathers wrath, so wrought for her offence : 

For none could helpe her more nor so as she, 

if with such sute her grace content might be. 

Her credit is so good, her fttme so flies, 290 

Her Honour such, her wisedome so in note. 

Her name so knowne to all mens eares and eies, 

as better mean could no where els be gotte, 

Then if he might at her hands ynderstand, 

what she hath heard and seen within her land. 285 

Whereon when we resolu'd by ioynt assent, 

and I at her request was drawing neere. 

To moue the suit according as we ment, 

J met you by the way which had byn heere : 

By whom I learned a very speedy meane, 240 

to worke her weale and voyde al terrour cleane. 

But mayde where is the Duke of whom you spake, 

whiche tooke this toyle for your good Ladies sake ? 

Box, Yon same is he whose strange attire, 
descries his griefe and points at hie desire. 246 

Qiuen, Well : lie feele his pulse. Sir knight I heare, 
yon are in quest ^ your daughter here to find. 


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In weed duig^iiBd because behaps you feare, 

least being known contrary to your mjnd. 

Yonr seerch might grow too long, jet may it be, 250 

Yonr state descride yon may find helpe of me. 

Oeea, Alas Madwn, and must it needs be so 7 
must griefe burst out ? and must my careful thought, 
Make you by speech partaker of my woe ? 

wherein the wrong that I haue instly wrought 255 

Ynto my selfe, shal lead me on along, 
til her I find whose wandring is my wrong. 

My natiue Countrey is, where Indies streame 

doth enter Sea, nigh to th' Gambaian coste. 

From whence I rome into thb famous realme, 260 

to seeke my child which by mischance I lost, 

There Duke I am, a Lord of fruitful soyle, 

though Fortunes force now taxe me with thb toyle. 

Queen, How hap your child did leaue you so alone ? 
was there no helpe but she must needes be gone 7 265 

OcecL She would needs loue where I misliked' much, 
a man of meane estate, of base degree. 
She is my only care and his case such, 
as, though wel borne, a subiect yet to me, 

¥rhom I in heate remou'd from her : but she 270 

in greater heat remou'd her self from me. 

Queen. Me thinks these words in such high state bewray 
more egar minde then gift of great conceate, 
A Prinoesse peere a Duke should seeke to stay, 

and not gainst fume with wit to worke debate. 275 

Are you so farre misledde for want of skill, 
as you know not that loue wil haue his will 7 

He knowes no peere : al states stoupe to his checke, 

he spares no prince no more then meane estate, 

But makes ech one obey him at a becke : 280 

He takes great scome to heare tell of a mate. 

But where he findes such match as he doth like, 

without gainsay he bends his bow to strike. 

Because you are a Prince of high degree, 

in Countrey where you dwell, yon hold it light 285 

That Loue should wound your only heire I see, 

but were you of farre more puissant might, 

And she of price as peerelesse as may be, 

loue hath subdu'de farre brauer Dames then she. 

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OcecL Madam I most confease the force of loae, 290 

to be a thing in Taine against to bend, 
Which blind reason first did after proue, 
to set Ys so as we can not defend. 
And so triumphing when we cannot see, 
we most oonfesse, who is the God but he ? 295 

Queen, As who should say, Lone neuer hits aright, 
but beetle like bereau'd of sight doth runne. 
Not waying worth, nor marking where to light, 
But loue oft times by due desart is wonne. 

And most prest on in Dames of highest prise, 300 

wherfore iudge right, for loue oft times is wise. 

Perhaps your daughters Loue sprang from desart, 

perhaps the persons worth procur'de her choise. 

Perhaps he was so tyed he could not start 

from her, commaunding him by vertues voyoe : 305 

And would you seeme at such linke to repine, 

which vertue did with her owne fingers twyne ? 

Therefore make your account thb griefe you feele^ 

proceeds from offence gainst such a power. 

And neuer hope to winne your bettor weale, 310 

till that his wrath appeas'd, he leaue to lower. 

Loue is a Lord, who lothes hym[,] him ^ he shames, 

not sparing Lordes, not sparing princely Dames. 

And chiefly where with vertue he doth linke, 

for vertues sake, where loue doth like to light, 315 

There can no force enforce his force to shrinke, 

he trusts so much to his confederates might : 

Wherefore your daughters loue for vertues sake, 

worke what you could, no ouerthrow would take. 

Ocean, I neuer did repine where vertues loue did link, 320 

but where there seem'd Disperagement to rise, 
As in her matoh I did and do stil think, 
his birth to hers in no point did suffice, 
A Princes child inheritour to state, 
too good I thought so farre to vndermate. 325 

Queen, Alas good Sir, know you not at these yeeres, 
that Loue doth alwaies fight on equal ground. 
And where he mindeth match, he makes them peeres : 
if mynds agree the ground of states is found. 

^ lothes, hym him. 

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A Princely heart in meaner man may dwel, 330 

where, if a Princesse like, she doth but well. 

For when the eare is fed with worthes report, 

when eie beholds what raoisheth the sight, 

The heart straight to desire yeelds vp the fort : 

where if againe like liking hap to lighi, 335 

When yertues ioyne and like with like is knit, 

what match is made more excellent then it? 

This match shoold jon mainteine where loue crept in, 

not of himself but gesse-waies led bj hand, 

For Tertoe was the first that did begin, 340 

against whose force whilest you thought to withstand, 

In single termes as not allowing loue, 

the compound strength of vertue yon do prone. 

Yon blame not him for mounting vp so hie, 

She beares the blame for bending down so low, 345 

Whom fortune bids looke vp, too blame were he 

if he should quaile, and worthy ouerthrow. 

And she too blame, of neere so high degree, 

not casting Loue where yertues doth agree. 

Alas, whats birth, though borne so much in eye 7 350 

the onely meane to blind who so is borne. 

Who looking bigge with countenance on hye, 

with vaine conceites holdes yertues giftes in soome. 

Unhappy he that bragges in that behalf e, 

where yertue lacks he proues himself a calfe. 355 

Oeea. You force me sore, yet this youle not deny, 
that though Loues powre be not to be withstood. 
And that the match of minds be beyond cry, 
and they best linkt where liking thinks it good. 

Yet should my child of me make so smal store, 360 

as match her selfe and not moue me before ? 

Queen, If match were made by onely meane of man, 
you had byn first, as whom the cause concernd, 
But what the Gods first moue doe what you can, 

they wil passe on though parents be not wamd, 365 

It is but yayne to say loue shal not winne, 
ynlesse at your consent he first beginne. 

Oeea. But was not that ynkindly done of her, 
ynknown to me to stray from Countries soyle ? 
Therby her Fathers blood so sore to stirre, 370 

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which for her sake doe take this jrkaome tojle ? 
In kinde a child, viikiiid to such a Bjre, 
deeeming iost revenge of fathers yre. 

Queen. Nay was not that ynkindly done of jou, 
Tnknowen to her, to send her looe away, 376 

To worke yon both snch woe as yoa feele now, 
yoo for her sake, she for her Lone to stray : 
In kynd a Byre, Tnkind to snch a child, 
whose only fault hath child and Sire exilde. 

OeecL Bat nature shonld hane borne with parents heat, 380 

sith what was meant was meant but for her good. 
The Looe of kind, snch bincy looe shoold beat, 
and thoogh she foond me for a time in mood, 
Tyme would haue tumd and causd me to relent, 
in that for which from me she slily went. 385 

Queen, Where nature doth but warme loue sets on fire, 
and greater force of lesser is obayde. 
For loue by choyoe doth drawe more deep desire, 
the lone of kind, by kind tone's ouer wayde. 

Which maister like giues not time to relent, 390 

but on he wil or make the man repent 

How could your Tigrish heart by sundring them, 

which liu*d in heauen before you sought their hell, 

Defeate the hold where Cupid held his daime? 

but in these termes no longer for to dwell : 395 

What if your child were offered to your face. 

Should she, or should she not obteine your grace? 

And if her Loue for whom her toyle hath beene, 

should come with her resolu'd to be her owne, 

Should not this angry mood of yours void deane 7 400 

answere me that, for that thing being known. 

Perhaps I would in part procure your ease, 

so that their match your mynd might not displease. 

Ooea. This compound case doth cause a fight in mind : 
to gaine my child my grief e would soone relent, 405 

Though in her flight she followed not her kind, 
but with her match I cannot be content 
But who are you. Madam, if I may craue 
to know your name, which seekes them thus to saue ? 

Queen, I am the Fairy Queene. 

Oeocm, O noble Dame, 410 

whose skil is such, as nought is hid from you. 

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Nothing 80 darke bat 70a doe know the same, 

I know 70a know where both the7 be, and how 

I ma7 obteine the thing I bane so sought, 

whose want I wronght and deerel7 haue it bought. 415 

Quiten, Wei Sir, I doe perceiue 70a are content,, 
to take 7oar child into 7oar grace againe, 
In hope wherof she shal straight be present, 
to please her fathers sight, to 8ta7 his paine : 

For other things discourse 70U when 70U meet, 420 

all wil be wel since 70U are wonne from heat. 

Ooe maydy go^ eal your Lady here* Box, tsoL 

Ocea, I thanke 7on noble Dame for pitTing me, 
and tendring this m7 sill7 daughters state. 
Whom if it be m7 hap againe to see, 

no such like heat shal set ts at debate, 425 

And 7et I hope b7 reason so to deale, 
as that her match shal stand to Countries weale. 

Aeha, It wilbe hard her setled loue to shake, 
which grounded once is not light to remoue. 

Yet for 7oar lone and for her Countries sake, 480 

it ma7 fall out she wil forget her loue : 
Which being new and 7oung did rauish so, 
now being old hath better leaue to go, 

But 7onder comes the maiden which was sent, Cknidina 

and lo m7 Ladle there for whom she went. A Itoxa, 435 

QiL Tis true m7 L. 7onr daughter is in place. enireth, 

performe 70ur speech and let her find some grace. 

Chudi. espying herfaiher, fcMeth on her knees, saying : 

ChudL I must deere father craue here at 70ur feet, 
for mine offence 7our pardon to obtaine, 

From whom to fl7, 1 7eeld it was not meet, 440 

7et Lone ( m7 Lord) in me so sore did ra7ne : 
As victor once repulse he would not beare, 
but bade me seek m7 loue in place ech where. 

You vnderstand m7 Lord the course I kept, 

70a see the gods bane brought this geare to end, 445 

These fatal listes could not be ouerlept, 
but needs m7 wil to their great might must bend : 
For fault to 70U their force I must oppose, 
I am 7our child of me 70U ma7 dispose. 

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Ocea, Small pardon needs where grace it readj found, 450 

vpon some better hope you haue discharge, 
Affection heales where folly made the wound, 
bat these things are to be discourst at large. 
But now the meane to mend your present case, 
is that you yeeld and gaine your fathers grace. 455 

This Lady here the Fairy Queene hath laide, 

for your defence in so forsaking me, 

As much as may in your behalfe be sayd, 

to whom we both are bound exceedingly : 

One point remaines, wherein if you relent, 460 

to take you home to grace 1 am content 

Qtuen. 1 dare my selfe for her part yndertake, 
that on her side resistance wilbe small, 
To what request her father here shal make, 

the cause once knowen, and circumstance withall : 465 

To compasse your good will is her desire, 
wherefore demaund the thing that you require. 

Oeea. Oaudina this long time you haue giuen raine, 
to serue your choise and feed your fancy still, 

Wherin as you haue suffered part of payne, 470 

so 1 became partaker of your yll, 
Now is the time to come to reasons schoole, 
which can alone these hot affections coole. 

For loue to leaue the land where you were borne, 

to tread your Fathers teares quite vnder feet, 475 

To stray you wote not where as one forlome, 

to wander strangerlike in such a beat : 

Doth ill beseem a person of your port, 

which being done, to reason now resort 

You are mine only child, heire to my state, 480 

the wealth whereof doth rest vpon your cboyce, 

Which wilbe wel if you in taking mate, 

do vse aduise of Fathers careful voyce, 

Mark wel, hereon doth hang your Fathers loue, 

besides the good by you my state may proue. 485 

I wil (considering both birth and your degree, 

wherto at first I cast my chiefe respect) 

To Countries good you chiefly haue an eie, 

which calles you home, and wils you to neglect 

The Loue of him which led you so astray, 490 

and for her sake to take a better way. 

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Oaudin, A dainty chojse my Lord yoa offer me, 
old rooted lone stil wedded to conceit, 
With mfull looke appearing in mine eye, 

and to your suit presenting stil debate, 495 

Whom Coontries good and nature bids o)>ay, 
wh^y my tongue knowes not whats best to say. 

But good my Lord sith you which may command, 

doe giue me leaue f9r my defence to plead, 

May it please you in short to vnderstand, 500 

how things haue past twixt him and me indeed. 

Which being heard, if you be not content, 

my wil to yours shal presently be bent : 

How worth in him did worke loue first in me, 

in Princely state while I did line at home, 505 

Your selfe therewith displeasd did right wel see, 

which banishing him inforced roe to rome, 

Because the baite which loue for yb had layde, 

held vs so fast as it could not be stayde. 

By land and Sea I wand red farre and neere, 510 

not finding rest til SibU told me plaine, 

[the]^ hap of that I hop'd remained here, 

where I should rest and finish al my payne : 

Sucoesse confirm'd her speech, and here I found, 

to whom by chained linke loue bath me bound. 515 

For farther linke in marriage to proceed, 

because therein I had not your consent, 

I followed stil ApoUoa holy reed, 

whose priest in that restrained myne intent. 

And wild me not to marriage to giue place, 520 

til he should like of whom I tooke my race. 

Oar state is thus, our loue which thus did grow, 

stands in these termes, in other termes yet free. 

I loued where I likt which reft me froe, 

I hasted on the thing I likt to see : 525 

I sought, I found, our loue remayneth stil, 

so to passe forth, if it be your good will. 

Oeea, If you stand free saue only that it pleasd 
the mighty Cupid th[u]s ' to cause you rome, 
Therein I find my heart wel easd, 530 

■het. 'this. 

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and trast to match you wel when I come home : 
With lone more fit for 70a then this can be, 
where both estate and wealth shal wel agree. 

OatuL Alaa my Lord, it is but fortunes gift, 
to haue dlsoent brought down from Princes traine. 535 

The persons worth is vertues worthy drift, 
which by desart the highest place should gaine. 
Care not for birth though it be neuer so base, 
but vertue reke which craues the highest place. 

OeecL As t'is a chance to be a Princes child, 540 

80 if you thinke that vertue is restraind. 
To one alone, therin you are beguild, 
she doth refuse of none to be obtaind : 
And where that royall blood with vertues meet, 
doth not such one best seem a Princely seate. 545 

Such one I know in place where you were borne, 

more fit for you then this to whom you cleaue, 

Whe[r]fore^ giue your consent, and thinke no scome, 

at Fathers suit your former loue to leaue : 

For duty so despisde for al my payne, 550 

to find you out, I craue this only gaine. 

Oaudi. But yet my Lord consider al the toile, 
which I haue past to compasse this my loue ? 
Shal old conceit at length receiue the foyle, 

whose force I feele not minding to remoue ? 555 

When Loue forsaken shal reuiue agayne, 
alas my Lord how sore wil be my payne : 

To be constrained not once to cast a looke, 

where I tofore did pitch my whole delight? 

To leaue him thus, for whom I all forsooke, 560 

how can true loue abide such poysoued spight? 

Whats to be said in this vnequall fight, 

where loue denies what nature claimes of right? 

O Cupid be content with that is past, 

thus long to thee I haue my seruice vowd, 565 

Let nature now preuaile at last, 

what she demands hold it not disalowd : 

And shal I then forsake my former ioy ? 

nay my Oaudina death were lesse annoy. 

Plaint hath found meane, and loue hath won his right, 570 

> Whefore. 

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from whom bat death no force Bhml seuer me, 

Dune Nature be contoit, here in thy sight 

my Lone I doe release and yeeld to thee. 

Yet neither lone nor nature may poeseflBe, 

bat only death the mother to redrease. 575 

Oeca. See how this heate doth burst to extreame flame, 
tee what deuiae extreame desire hath founde, 
She loues and cannot leaue, yet to Toyd blame, 
she hath found out another helples grounde, 

By death to disappoint both our desires : 580 

see reasons checke when senslesse loue aspires. 

Yet this I may not leaue that is begonne, 

"Madam of you I must craue farther ayde, 

By whom I trust this fort shal yet be wonne : 

you haue perceiu'd by both what hath byn said, 585 

You see the ground whereon my reasons leane, 

to work my daughters weale be you the meane. 

QvMn, I see affection arm'd and loth to yeeld, 
whom length of time and strength of loue support, 
I see whereon perswasions right doth build, 590 

which hath me thinks possest the stronger fort : 
If loue had sight and reason could behold, 
or fiery flame could be subdu'de with cold. 

But Lady, geue me leaue whose friendship tride, 

doth bid you bend your eare to that I say, 595 

The trueth whereof cannot be wel denide, 

though flaming loue in heate seeme to say nay : 

Immortal states as you know mine to be, 

from passions blind affects are quite and free. 

If you may so consent to Parentes minde, 600 

(wherwith is ioyn*d the wealth of countries soyle) 

As loue cannot accuse you for vnkinde, 

ne yet complaine himselfe to haue the foyle : 

Considering he whereon your Loue is bent, 

may haue your loue though you herein relent 605 

If you forsake, not forst by greater cause, 

loue then of some vnkindnes might you blame, 

But weight of greater worth forbidding pause 

If you withstand, you blemish much your name. 

It were no loue that stood so in your sight : 610 

but might be tearm'd meere madnes out of right 

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Betome agaioe with parent whence you came, 

regard the state which birth hath brought joa to, 

Belent to lone that wil aogment your fame, 

and yet this knight cannot, if you so do, 615 

Condemne you much although you him forsake, 

sith of two go[o]d8 ^ the greater you doe take. 

Your Fathers reason springs from such a ground, 

as cannot wel by reason be deny'de : 

If he for you so fit a match haue found, 620 

as for your birth no fitter may be spiMe, 

What haue you then against him to withstand, 

since nought but good can come from parents hand. 

Bet al aside, and onely this obserue, 

to seeke you out, your knight he took no paine, 625 

Yours was the toile, yon did from countrey sweme, 

you trauail'de stil, in rest he did remaine : 

So that of you if loue craue further ayde, 

yon answere may, he hath his wages payde. 

But though yon may thus checke his loue you'le say, 630 

how shal I choake the loue which flames in me, 

That, do my best, so keepes me at the bay, 

as ties me fast when loose I fain would be : 

So that I find, the goale must there be woon, 

where fancy fights, and loue the broyle begun ? 635 

Your countenance seemes to yeeld, debarre al doubt, 

let meaner loue to greater quickly yeeld. 

Your good it is these reasons goe about, 

let common care giue priuate wil the field, 

Why stand you stil as one in sodain traunoe, 640 

giue place to that your honour may aduaunce. 

Oaudintu Th* assault is great, yet loue bids keep the field, 
what al this time hath my long trauel won ? 
If now by light attempt I hap to yeeld : 

these reasons hel [d]e ^ before my flight begon : 645 

What is now said but then the fame was true? 
the ground is old though floures be fresh and new. 

When he by flight was so withdrawen from me, 

then did my loue condemne these reasons all. 

And shall I now sith nothing els I see, 650 

igods, »helte. 

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by jeelding thos procure both present thral ? 
I rather choose to wander with him stil, 
then so to change and oountermaand mj wil. 

I feele a false alarme as though there were, 

a fitter match to be found out for mee : 655 

No Oontarmua no, I smel this geare, 

to try if so I would relent from thee : 

No, our consents haue ioynd this faithfull linke, 

til thou saiest nay I wil not from thee shrinke. 

And yet in thee if slender shewes take place, 660 

lie neuer yeeld for honour of my kind, 

Let men remoue and slightly tume their face, 

in womans brest more stay they stil shal find : 

My parents pardon me my countrey stay, 

for what is said from Loue I wil not stray. 665 

Ocean, Yon see how sore my headstrong daughter's bent, 
she wil not yeeld for aught that can be said. 
Were it not good that to the Knight we went 
to see if his desire might be delaide : 

I see by him the meane must first begin, 670 

to quench the flame my daughter frieth in. 

Qneen, If it seeme good to you as't doth to me, 
to him where as he is, we will repaire, 
For at his hand this must be wrought I see, 

if he himselfe wil yeeld to countries care : 675 

Com Sir, and you Madam, let ts retire, 
we haue to deale with him whom you desire. 

Chudi, You may so with perswasions deale I think, 
as he to your demaund may seeme to yeeld. 

But inwardly that he from me wil shrink, 680 

DO reason can such ground bring for her shield : 
Yet to doe that which both you do desire, 
apart with you my selfe I wil retire. ExewU, 

Here the Pages abiding, v$e a preUy'aei of spartj but heeauae the maUer 

wUbefuU without it, 1 haue thought good not to trouble you with 

tuehe ParetUheeis, but making their epeeehea ended I will 

only redte the introduction to their comming tn. 

AUamdro, But yonder oomes the Fairy Queenee, 

and brings with her in trayne, 685 

My Lord the Duke with merry looke, 
I hope web home againe. 

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Oeoa, the Duke, Eambia the Fairy Qaeene, OontarenuSf 
Chudina, Boxa, Niphe. 

Queen. You heare Sir Knight the parents iust request, 
you see the force whereon his reasons stand, 

Affections staies what wisedome thinks for best, 690 

the matter rests al onely in your hand. 
By nature yon are farther to forsee, 
you are therefore to strike the stroke, not she. 

Oeca. You know of old what led me so to let 
the great desire wherwith you both so brent, 695 

Against your worth my wil was neuer set, 
to further Countries good was mine intent : 
Which sith in me so constantly doth dwell, 
to yeeld therto me thinks you might do weL 

Oaudi. Yet Contartnus think what is in you, 700 

if yertues worth and waight in you be great. 
And such as none but blind can disallow, 
why should perswasions then ys two defeate. 
As who say, any els might better seeme, 
then you and I to rule so great a realme. 705 

Birth beares me out, and yertue beares yp you, 

and why should any then thereof mislike? 

As certaine proofe shal stil preuaile I trow, 

before that is yncertain how to like. 

You are to choose my friend, make answere so 710 

as you do not procure ys endles wo. / 

Oonta, The choise is hard in midst of such extreames, 
my Lord and Prince pretending Countries good, 
On th' other side affections dazeling beames, 

which stil wil shine though clypsed with a cloude, 715 

Layeth in myne eye ray Ladies due desart, 
which nought but death can seuer from my heart. 

What flashing flames did she at first abide, 

when as on me her loue she did bestow ? 

What Constance stil in her wrought on my side, 720 

to kcepe that loue whereto my life I owe ? 

What griefe did then consume her careful heart, 

when as my Lord wiPd me from Court depart? 

What was the scale that made her so forsake, 

the blisse which princely Court to her could bring, 725 

And for my Loue such passing paines to take, 

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to find me out where bruite of me shoalde ring. 
Now shoald I swerue whom she so long bath soaght? 
death were too smal did I bat fault in thought 

How can I leaue her thus and not deserue, 730 

to be enrould with those infamous men, 

Whom Loue, because they did from him so swerue, 

hath painted out hj Poets publike pen : 

In hel to haue their wel deseruing hire. 

For so defrauding loue of iust desire? 735 

Yet pardon me Madam for waighing both, 

if any harme do rise, the griefe is mine, 

You to displease the gods knowe I am loth, 

for whom my heart disdaines not any pine. 

Set loue aside til reason hath found out, 740 

what is the best in that we goe about 

Against our Loue our Countries good is laid, 

for whose auaile we ought not death refuse, 

Then death for loue in Countries cause bewraid, 

ought to reioyce and seeke no other scuce : 745 

Yet leaning Loue for countries cause I die, 

who wil not weep such happe on me to lie. 

Because my Lord your father may well know 

that vertue is the linke of this our Loue, 

And not affection blind which leades vs so, 750 

as being bent we cannot once remoue : 

Marke Madam what I say, and yeeld consent, 

it is your loue that causeth me relent. 

Without my Lord your parents free good wil, 

at home with him what can his child enjoy? 755 

And thus to line in state a wanderer stil, 

as you do now, what more may breed annoy 7 

Good Madam though I loue as no man more, 

yeeld yet to him, withstand him not so sore. 

You shal obteine such one by his foresight, 760 

as he shal like, and countries weale shal crane, 

You must regard the common weales good plight, 

and seeke the whole not onely one to sane. 

If you doe well, I cannot doe amisse, 

though loosing you I lose mine onely blisse. 765 

I doe foresee the griefe that wil insne, 

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122 J. w. cuia.iFFE 

when I shal find my selfe of you bereft, 

When careful mind mj late mishap shal rue, 

that Toyd of you and of your sight am left. 

A double death my doleful dayes shal feele, 770 

Yet I resigne my right to countries weale. 

Qu, A noble speech confirming what was said, 
that vertues worth was causer of your loue. 
For sure my Lord it cannot be denaide, 

but that this minde a stony heart myght moue, 775 

Which to his praise doth yeeld to Countries good, 
the thing whidi to possesse so neere he stood. 

Oeea. Wei Ocmta. I must needs esteeme, 
you of such worth as your estate doth beare, 

And if it might so to all others seem, 780 

you best deeerue the garland for to weare. 
But sith the tstm against yoUr Tertues bend, 
your Tertue wils you this to condisoend. 

Whereto this farre I yeeld if that you please 

with me againe to Countrey to leoort, 785 

You shal in noble state there lioe at ease, 

and spend your dales in most delightful sport 

And as for loue I banish' t you my lande, 

euen so for loue in grace stil shal you stand. 

OonL My Lord, what you haue done, your state maintains, 790 
exiling me that did offend your eye, 
My life must be in course of restlesse paines, 
for her whom care of countrey doth denye. 
CkKxl hap light on the land where I was borne, 
though I doe line in wretched state forlome. 795 

Ch/udin, Alas that such a spirit cannot perswade, 
Alas that state and vertue sunder so, 
Alas of worth no more account is made, 
but thus from thee my loue must I needes goe. 
Well sith he yeelds which hath most right in me, 800 

Ah Countries good I yeeld my selfe to thee. 

Oeccu Now haue I that which though I bought with pain, 
I think it light, the gain thereof so great, 
Now I receiue you to my grace againe, 

whereof before Loue sought you to defeat. 805 

The second mends the former fault doth heale, 
•inoe you giue place to care of Countries weale. 

Queen, Wei now. the force wherto your fate made way 
is wtA expired, you haue the heauens to friend, 

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Who thoagh they saj you runne so long astraji 810 

yet baoe they gioeD your cure a ioyful end. 
Thinke on and thanke, it is a special grace, 
first so to stray, then so to end your race. 

Your peace is wrought Madam, retire with me, 

to place where I do dwel from whence you may 815 

To Gountrey make repaire when time shalbe. 

til when my Lord if you with me wil stay, 

What things shal need for that your home retire, 

I wil supply your want to your desire. 

Ooea. Your goodnes hath so bound both her and me, 820 

as while we liue we be yours to command. 
By you is wrought this wished worke I see, 
by power diuine, and by no mortal hand. 
Passe on Madam let ys be of your trayne, 
the causer of our ioy the healer of our payne. 825 

Queen, And you sir Knight whose honest yeelding made 
the good consent which past to help this yll. 
You may remaine as I before haue said, 
where I do dwel with hearty great good will. 

And eoer haue the Fairy Queene to friend, 830 

for yertues sake which I in you do finde. 

OonkL Madam I am your owne stil to command, 
as one yon see of hap bereaued quite, 
Besolu'd not to retume to countries land, 

sith I haue lost what was my whole delight : 835 

When resting pawse hath sta/d my troubled heart, 
I will retire and draw my selfe apart. 

And now sith cause of such importaunce moues, 

my woful heart thus to forgo his loue, 

Most worthy Dame aith chaunce so parts our loues, 840 

that from my sight your presence must remoue, 

Graunt me herein, sith now the last I see, 

let not your lone all whole depart from mee. 

Waigh wel the cause that mou'd me to relent, 

which may perhaps imprint more deep conceite, 845 

What man as I, his lone so firmly bent, 

would yeeld the hold once maister of the baite? 

The gods preeerue your honour stil in health, 

my priuate good, my common countries wealth. 

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And if yoar mind were set that home jou will| 850 

it were bat labour lost, if I galDsaide, 

And absent if your loue continue still, 

my gaine is great who stil this ground haue laide. 

That honest loue might thinke it no disgrace. 

though they that loue do hap to sunder place. 855 

OaudL Wei, OoTUarenus wel, what shal ensue ? 
You are the cause whose jeelding makes me jeeld, 
Yet of my word for euer hold this true, 
wheron you may assured comfort build : 

Til death my soule and body shal depart, 860 

your loue shal lodge in some part of my heart 

Qriefe calles me hence. JExiL 

QmUu Such is my recompence. 

Nowe doe I feele the pangs the Sea men bide, 

which hauing harbour nigh in hope to land 865 

By turning winde are driuen to try the tide, 
and trust the Seas thereby to voyd the sand. 
Now doe I feele the depth of mothers paine, 
for death of child she hop*d to see againe. 

Was euer man more neere his hauen of blisse? 870 

his ship driuen forth with wind that filPd the sayle. 

Had euer man such cause of hopelesse misse, 

as 1 which at the fal so soon did fails ? 

Did Fortune ere so sodain shew her power 

as in her mirth so soon againe to lower ? 875 

When I had liu'd so long in strange exile, 

in desart wastes commaunded stil to dwel, 

Disfauored of my prince (alas the while) 

and bard my Ladies sight my heauiest hel : 

Againe at last though to her paine we met, 880 

so Loue in her surmounted lucklesse let, 

Which loue as it did worke in her to ease, 

so Fathers search which sought to salue his losse. 

Hath bred vs both more cause of great displease, 

and tied vs thus to trie more bitter crosse: 885 

By duety she is forced to relent, 

and leaues to loue a leasure to repent. 

Yet can I not Oaudina blame therefore, 

her hearty loue, her toyling tractes bewayles. 

She is the lodge where vertue makes her store, 890 

it was her syre that bred my doleful dales : 

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Mo6t happj he that on her loue can hit, 
mo6t hapleese I for so forgoing it. 

And so fane went I yet as one that spied, 

her whole estate depend vpon my graont, 895 

Though my mishap herein be not denied, 

yet of her spide my selfe may iustly vaunt. 

To worke her good my life I would forgoe, 

as I haue done though to my endlesse woe. 

Nvphe and Roxant entreik. 

Box. Friend Niphe could we two haue euer once surmised, 900 

that such euent would fall to this exceeding loue. 
Or that blind Cupid could so quickly be suppressed, 
which to all reason first so strongly gaue the glone ? 

Ni, I neuer thought but that there might fal out some turn, 
the streame did run so strong, it threatned stil to stay, 905 

The flame so flashing hot could not so alwaies bum, 
but being closely kept would burst some other way. 

OorUar, What Niphe^ art thou here, and heard' st my plaint? 
with silent voyce oouldst thou such griefe abide ? 

Which heretofore when fortune gaue the taint, 910 

from sounding shril couldst not thine anguish hide? 
Oh helpe in sound to shew my sorrowing state, 
which seem*d to thee most happy but of late. 

Niphe, I wil good sir doe al that lieth in me, 
to ease your care whose case doth touch me neere, 915 

To finde you out by lande and eke by Sea, 
my selfe did toyle twizt hope and trembling feare, 
Whose shaking off in sort as now we see, 
is sowre to you, and nothing sweet to mee. 

But sith you may with licence of my Lord, 920 

retume againe from whence you were exilde. 

Why wil you not with him therein accord ? 

me thinks refusing that, you are beguilde. 

There whom you loue, you may haue still in sight, 

which step in loue was neuer holden light 925 

(hnUu Can I beholde another to embrace, 
where I my selfe my Loue haue alwayes cast, 
Would not my griefe bewray it selfe in place, 
to see my Loue so cleerely from me past. 

Gk)od Niphe helpe, this is my last request, 930 

to shew my griefe good Niphe doe thy best. 

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Niphei song. 

O sillj Bird what feeles thy heaay brwt, 

which seeking foode to feed thy joang with&ll, 

At thj retarne doest find thy empty nest, 

and none therein to answere at thy call ? 986 

How can thy heart but melt away for griefe, 

foigoing them to thee of late so liefe ? 

How could'st thoa Thitby stay, by trembling hand, 

from reaaing thee thy then so lothsome life, 

When dead on ground thy Pyrramiu gan stand, 940 

who hop'd forthwith to hane thee to hb wife? 

The neerer hope the fuller fraught with gall, 

when trust in hope to rest hath sodaine fall. ^ 

Poore Cbntarentu how hath Fortune fickle dame, 

procured thy grief e in offring thee her hand ? 945 

Which in thy cause doth now deserue most blame, 

when she would seem thy special friend to stand, 

O ye that trust the whirling of her wheele, 

beware the wrench at turning of her heele. 

And you that look aloft beyond degree, 950 

when fayreet wind doth fill your flying sayle. 

Hold fast for feare your footing ficklest bee, 

when hope wil seeme to helpe you to preuayle. 

So did she here with ConUurenus play, 

from whom she fled when she made shew of stay. 955 

(hni^ I thank thee Nipht for thy mournful song, 
the tune whereof delights the doleful eares 
Of such as iustly may complaine the wrong, 
whose griefe dammes yp the floud of trickling teares. 
Farewell to both, sith I must needs depart, 960 

beare witnes of my woe and careful heart 

And tel my Lady deere that I intend, 

henceforth to seeke if I may meet her friend, 

LorieuB whom the Hermit did commend. 

He bid him thinke and hope one day to find 965 

Beward for that his faithful seruice long, 

til when we both may plaine of fortunes wrong. 

Yet say, I wil abide hers to command, 

where so aduentures hard shal carry me, 

Not leaning Loue by Sea nor yet by land, 970 

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thoQgh that I loae, I neuer hap to see. 
Oh careful heart opprest with such desires, 
as lacks the iojes that Ijking aye requires. 

Yet this I am assar'de her Princely heart, 

where she hath lou'd wil neuer quite forget, 975 

I know in her I shal haue stil a part, 
in honest sort I know she loues me yet 
These thoughts in me mainteine the hope of life, 
which other waies by death should end the strife. 


Box. Wei then I see our fortune must deuide, 980 

we must again to Countries land retire. 
This knight delights in sorrowing to abide, 
For missing her which was his whole desire. 
My selfe haue felt such trauel on their traine, 
as I am glad home to retume agayne. 985 

The Gods send al good speed that tarry here, 
and chiefly her which gouemes al the rest. 
As for my selfe I wil spread farre and neere, 
for princely prayse that she deserueth best : 

And that God loued ys which made vs stay, 990 

where vertuous Qneene doth stately scepter sway. 


Imprinted at Lon- 
don for Thonuis Oadman. 


On the question of authorship, Mr. PoUard^s opinion that 
the comedy was "probably by George Gascoigne" has the 
first claim to consideration. Mr. Pollard gives reasons 
(which appear to me to be sound) for concluding that Gas- 
coigne was not the author of the whole pamphlet.^ In the 
dedicatory epistle prefixed to the four versions of Tlie Tale 

*See especially the passage before the "posies" (p. 99), in which the 
author says he does not understand Italian. 

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of HemdtB which Gasooigne presented to the Queen on 
January 1, 1576, he speaks as if he were present at Wood- 
stock on the occasion of the entertainm^it, but were not 
himself the author of The Talcy whose ** skyll " and " well 
polished style '^ he contrasts with his own " rude phrases." * 

There seems to be no reason why Gascoigne should dis- 
avow or conceal the authorship of any part of the pamphlet, 
if it were really his ; it would be contrary to his practice, 
for the only known work of his that was not acknowledged 
by him was The Spoyle of ArUwerpe, and in this case there 
were special reasons, the pamphlet being his report of 
service done as a state emissary, whose official position it 
might not be convenient to reveal. He claimed credit for 
his share of The Princelye pleasures, at the Gowrte at Kend- 
woorth, published within a year of the time of performance 
(July, 1576), and put his well-known motto, Tarn Marti 
quam Mercurio, at the end of the pamphlet, which was 
included in the collected edition of his works, issued, after 
his death, in 1587. Beyond the fact that he was at Wood- 
stock at the time, there is nothing to show that Gasooigne 
was responsible for any part of the entertainment, and the 
original ascription of the comedy to him was probably based 
upon the mistaken notion that he was the author of The 
Tale of HemeteSy upon which it is founded. 

The internal evidence in support of Gascoigne^s author- 
ship of the comedy is as weak as the external. I should be 
the last to contend that Gascoigne is a great writer, but my 
impression, after a careftil reading of the whole of his known 
work, is that he does not descend below a certain level 
of mediocrity, and the Woodstock comedy strikes me as 
inferior, in both conception and execution, to any of his 

^GhbBOoigne's Complete Works (Cambridge English Classics), Vol. ii, 
p. 477. 

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acknowledged works; it is oertainly much below the standard 
of the Kenilworth " shew *^ of Zabeta, written by Grascoigne 
two or three months before. The plot is bald and shows 
no ingenuity of invention^ the compliment to the Queen is 
slight^ and Grascoigne was enough of a courtier to lay flat- 
tery on with a trowel. The Pages' " pretty act of sport " 
was so irrelevant that the reporter omitted it^ and the inser- 
tion and the omission are alike contrary to Gascoigne's 
manner. The metre of the comedy (iambic pentameter, A 
BABCC) is singularly ill-fitted for dramatic presentation, 
and is not employed by Gascoigne on any similar occasion. 
It is here used with a lack of skill much below Grascoigne's 
level of workmanship, which, for his time, was at least 
respectable. Without apparent reason, the writer departs 
from his rhyme-scheme to fall into couplets (151-2, 171-2, 
1 74-5, 264-5,. 436-7) ; he has an occasional stranded prose 
Ime (173 and 421a); some lines lack a foot (530, 566), 
others a syllable (292, 309) ; a redundant foot is not uncom- 
mon (227, 320, 486, 825, 900-907); 246 and 292 will not 
scan. There are many imperfect rhymes, and the use of 
alliteration is pushed to an excess beyond Grascoigne's prac- 
tice. In the last word of 418 we have a glaring case of 
strained accent, which Gascoigne in his treatise on versifica- 
tion specially condemns; and some of the grammatical forms- 
(e, g. -eth as the plural termination of the verb) are not his.. 
Before looking elsewhere for the author, it may be well to- 
consider the purpose and character of the Woodstock enter- 
tainment, especially of the comedy which is its most salient 
feature. The author of the pamphlet goes out of his way 
to draw attention to the " audacity '^ of the hermit's tale,, 
'* in which tale if you marke the woords with this present 
world, or were acquainted with the state of the deuises, you 
shoulde finde no lesse hidden then uttered, and no lesse 
uttered then shoulde deserue a double reading ouer, euen or 



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those (with whom I finde vou a companioD) that haue dis* 
posed their houres to the study of great matters/' The 
Prinoess Caadina, who is the heroine alike of the stoiy add 
of the comedy^ does not in either, it should be noted, obtain 
the lover for whom she has "passed^rilsjjast beUefe"; in 
the tale, the issue is left doubtful, perhaps with the assump* 
tion that the lovers, having met after so many vicissitudes, 
will be happy ever sfter ; but in the comedy, afl«r a reason- 
able amount of protestation, they resign their rights for the 
good of their country, though the lower rank of Contarenus 
is all that is urged against him. The comedy is thus the 
counterpart of the " shew " of Zabeta, written by Gasooigne 
for the Kenilworth festivities, which urged on the Queen the 
advantages of matrimony, obviously in the interests of 
Leicester, who appears to have been pressing his suit at this 
time with some insistence;^ the "shew" was never pre- 
sented to Elizabeth, though it was "prepared and redy 
(every Actor in his garment) two or three days together," 
doubtless because the Queen iiad some inkling of its purport, 
and preferred not to receive, in public, so outspoken a 
declaration of her favourite's designs. The Woodstock 
comedy preaches exactly the opposite doctrine — the subjec- 
tion of personal desires to interest* of state ; and the fate of 
Loricus and Hemetes in the story seems to point the lesson 
which Queen Elizabeth was undoubtedly anxious that her 
lovers should learn — ^that of whole hearted devotion without 
hope of recompense. It appears rash to assume that 
Leicester, in the two months intervening between the Kenil- 
worth and the Woodstock entertainments, had made such a 
remarkable change of front ; it is more probable that the 
Woodstock devices were directed not by or for Leicester, but 
against him, and this supposition is borne out by the intertet 

> Modem LtsM^uagt lUview^ Vol. rr, pp. 231-2. 

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taken in the proceedings by die French Ambassador, who 
was known to be hostile to Leicester's designs. This suppo- 
sition woald presumably exclude not only Grascoigne, but 
the whole corps of court poets employed by Leicester at 
Eenilworth — ^William Hunneys, Master of her Majesty's 
Chapel ; Greorge Ferrers, sometime Lord of Misrule in the 
Court ; Henry Groldingham and Richard Muncaster. 

Slight as are the literary merits of the entertainment, its 
allusions evidently provoked a great deal of interest at the 
time. The Queen gave ** earnest command that the whole 
in order as it fell, should be brought her in writing, which 
being done, as I heare, she used, besides her own skill, the 
helpe of the deuisors, & how thinges were made I know not, 
but sure I am her Majesty hath often in speech some part 
hereof with mirth at the remembrance .... it was as well 
thought of, as anye thing euer done before her Majestie, not 
onely of her, but of the rest : in such sort, that her Graces 
passions, and other the Ladies could not but shew it selfe in 
open place more then euer hath been scene/' It was because 
Gfascoigne saw the Queen's "lerned judgment greatly 
pleased " with the Tale of Hemetes that he chose it to illus- 
trate his skill as a translator. The Gascoigne versions must 
have been circulated in other Mss. beside that presented to 
the Queen, for the Latin text, as well as the English, was 
annexed by Abraham Fleming to his curious pamphlet A 
Paradox^ proving by reason and example that Baldnesse ia 
much better than bushie hair, etc. (1679). The publication 
of the entertainment by Cadman in 1586 (ten years after the 
event), gives evidence of a certain amount of permanent 
interest. Still, it is rather surprising to find that as late as 
1592 the devices and characters of the entertainment could 
be alluded to as if they were still kept in mind by the Queen 
and Court. The reference is so significant that it seems 
worth while to reproduce it here as it was printed in 1821 

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by William Hamper of Birmingham from a MS. then in his 
possession^ and reprinted hy Nichols in the subsequent 
edition of the Progresses : — 

The second dales woorke where the Chaplayne maketh this Relation. 
Da mihi quicquid hahes, animumqu' fidemq* mannmq' 
Hec tria si mihi des, das mihi quioqaid habes. 
Elizse laudes, et vox et lingua loqantur. 

The Oration. 

Most excellent Princes I Princes of excellencie ! whom God framed 
in heanen to grace his woorkmanshippe on earth, and whose gratioose 
abiding with us belowe is priuileged by the singular grace of God aboue I 
Vouchsafe, I beseeche you, from the matcheles heighte of your Boyall 
graces, to loke downe on the humble dwelling of an owlde Knight, now 
a newe religiouse Hermite : who, as heretofore he professed the obedience 
of his youthe, by constant seruioe of the yrorldes best Creature, so at this 
present presentethe the deuotion of his yeares, by continual! seruing of 
the worldes onlie Cretor. In theone, kind judgment was the usher, & 
beleefe the follower of his sounde loue : in the other, meditation is the 
forerunner, <& zeale the usher, of this streite lyfe. This solitary man, 
Loricus, for such is his condicion & so is he called, one whose harde 
adventures were once discouered, and better fortune foreshewed, by a good 
father of his owne coate, not farr from this Goppies, rann the restles race 
of desire, to seeke content in the state of perfections ; comaunding his 
thoughtes & deedes to tender theire dutie & make solemne sacrifices to 
the IdoU of his harte, in as manie partes as his minde had passions, yet 
all to one ende, because all from one grounde, to wit the consent of his 
aflfectlons. Sometymes he consorted with couragious Gentelmen, mani- 
festing inward joyes by open justes, the yearlie tribute of his dearest Loue. 
Sometimes he summoned the witnesse of depest conceiptes, Himmes & 
Songes & Emblemes, dedicating them to the honor of his heanenlye 
Mistres. Sometymes by lyking drawen to looking, he lost himself e in the 
bottomles vewe of unparragonized yertues, eche good ymagination ouer- 
taking other with a better, and the best yelding a degree aboue the best, 
when they all were deemed too weake for her woorth which ouerweyeth all 

Thus spent he the florishe of his gladdest dayes, craning no rewarde 
ells, but that he might loue, nor no reputation beside but that he might 
be knowne to Loue ; till the two enimies of Prosperitie, Enuie and Age, 
(the one greuing at him, & the other growing on him, ) cutt him off from 
Uie following the Cowrte, not from goying f orwarde in his course. Thence, 
willingly unwilling, he retired his tyred lymea into a comer of quie( 

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repose, in this Coantrie, where he lyued prioate in ccelestiall contempla- 
tion of manie matters together, and, as he ODce told me, serionslie kept a 
verie courte in his owne boeome, making presence of her in his soule, who 
was absent from his sight Amongst manie other exercises (whereof 
feruent desire ys not scant) he founde it noe small fartherannce of diuine 
specolation to walke thorow by-pathes & nncoth passages, under the coole 
shadowes of greene trees. 

And one dais abone the rest, as he ranged abrode, hauing forgotten 
himself in a long sweet ranishment, his feete wand ring astraj, when his 
mind went right, he hit bj chaonce on a homelie Cell of mine which had 
helde a little space, to mj greate solace, & taking mee on a soddaine at 
my ordinarie Orisons ; — Bj your leaue, verteouse Sir, quoth he, where 
lyes the highe-waie I pray you. Marry here, gentell Knight (sayde I) 
looking on my booke with mine eyes, & poynting up to heauen with my 
finger ; it is the very Kinge^s hie-waye. You saye true in deeds (quoth 
he) the verie Queene's hie-waye, which my harte inquired after though 
my tongue asked for another. And so, as it is the use with fellowe 
humors when they fortunately mete, we light bothe upon one argument, 
the universall fame of that miraculouse gouemment, which by truthe & 
peace, the harbengers of heauen, directeth us the verie way to etemall 
blessedness. Much good discourse had we more, of the vanitie of the 
world, the unoertainetie of frendes, the unconstancie of fortune ; but the 
upshoot of all was this, that he would become an Heremite, I should be 
his Chaplaine, & both joyntlie joyne in prayers for one Prince, & the 
prayses of one Qod. To which purpose, because this plott pleased him, 
hee here forthwith erected a poore Loddging or twoe, for me, himselfe, 
A a page, that wayteth on him, naming it when he had donne the Crowne 
Oratory ; and therefore aduannsed his deuise on the entrance after the 
Bomaine fashion in a Filler of perpetuall remembraunce. But, alas t 
whilst he seekes to raise one buylding, he sees the rewins of another ; A 
whilst he shapes a monument for his minde, he feeles the miserie of his 
bodie, whose roofe was roughe with the mosse of greene haires, whose 
sides were erased with the tempestes of sicknes, whose foundacions shooke 
under him with the waight of an unwildye carcasse : and when he per- 
oeaned his olde house in a manner past reparacions, considering his owne 
unablenes, he recomended the care thereof to the conningest Architect of 
Worlde, who oillie was able to pull it downe unto the earth, & raise it 
anewe, in better glorie than it stoode before. Then began I to call him to 
his former preceptes, & his latter practizes, shewing him in fewe woordes 
(for he conceaued much ) that nowe was the time of tryall. A good sayler 
was better seene in a storme than in a calme. It was no straunge thing 
to lyue ; for slaues lyue, and beastes lyue too. Nature had provided 
him comforte, who made that moist common which shee had made most 
greeuouse ; to the ende the equallnes might aleye the egemes of death. 

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To which he mildelie replied that mj motions fjtlie touched him, he was as 
deeirouse to encounter with Death, as to heare of Death, for Fortitude still 
abode his bed-fellowe. Extremitie thoug[h] it could not be ouercom yet it 
might be ouerbome, since his minde had secured him bj fearing nothing, and 
oueriched him bj desiring nothing. Hee had longe Ijued in the Sea, and 
ment now to die in the Hauen. Hauen (saide I). Yea I the Hauen 
(quoth he) ; lett me be carried into the Hauen. Which Hauen I supposed 
he hadd spoken idellie, but that he eftsones repeted it, and wished to be 
brought to this poore houell before the gates. What thatt odde comer 
(saide I). Yes (quoth he) that comer ; and angerlie broke of with this 
sentence : Subsilire in coelum ex Angulo licet. 

So we speedilie remoued him hither, wher being softelj layed he uttered 
these Speeches softelie :— Before I was olde, I desyred to Ijue well, and 
now I am olde, I desire to die well : and to die well is to die willinglie. 
Manie there be that wish to Ijue, yet wott not how to die : lett me be theire 
example yf they lyke not lyfe, to lyue, to die with lyking, who neither 
embraced Fortune when shee flew unto mee, nor ensued Fortune when she 
fled from mee, nor spared niggardlie, nor spent layishlie, whatsoeuer she 
bestowed on me : but since it was my singuler hope to lyue beholding to 
the Growne, I accompt it my speciall joye to dye beholding the Crowne. 
Holy Crowne t hallowed by the sacrament, confirmed by the fates ; thou 
hast been the Aucthor of my last Testament. So calling for pen and inke 
(which were neuer far off) he drew a formall draught of his whole will, 
signed & subscribed by himselfe, but witnessed by us, the compassionate 
spectators of that lamentable action which he had no sooner entituled by 
wayes of trust, & geuen me charge for the safe deliuering thereof, but he 
fell soddenlye speecheles, & so continueth to this houre. The stile runnethe 
thus : To the most rerumned Queene owner of the hesi Oroume d crowned with 
the best deeerteSf the lyuing loue of dying Lorieus. Now, most peereles Princes, 
sence there is none can laie challenge to this title, except they should also 
challenge your vertues, which were to complaine of Nature for robbing 
herselfe to do you right, accept I beseeche you the offer of him who dares 
not offer it to anie other ; & one daie no doubt but the Knight himselfe, if 
happilie he recouer (as what may not so sacred a Prince promise), will say 
it is in a good hand, & proue the best expounder of his owne meaning. In 
the meane season, thoughe myne endevors must be employed about your 
sick seruant, yet my prayers shall not ceasse for your most gratiouse 
Majestic, that as you haue oner lined the vaine hope of your forndne 
enemies, so you may outlast the kinde wishes of your loyall subjectes, which 
is to last to the last euerlasting. Amen. 


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To the most renowned Queene, 

Owner of the beet Crowne, & crowned with the beet desertee, the Ijuing 

Loue of dying Loricns. 

I Loricos, Bodie sicke, 
Sences sounde, Bemembraance qoicke, 
Neaer craning) euer seruing) 
Little haning, lesse deseruing, 

Though a hartie true wellwiller 
Of the Crowne & crowned Filler, 
To that Crowne, m j lyaes content, 
Make my Will A TertamenU 

Soule I goe first to heauenlie rest ; 
Soule the Bodies heauenlie gneste, 
Where, both Host & Inn decaying, 
Teld the gneete no qoiet staying. 

Bodie I back againe, departe ; 
Earth thon wast, & Earth thou arte. 
Mortall creatures still be jumeing, 
From the earth to earth returning. 

As for anie worldlie lyuing 
Nothing haue I woorth the geeuing : 
Let the baser indeed take them. 
We which follow God forsake them. 

But if anie wishe to dwell, 

As I did, in homely Cell, 

Let him pull his Castells downe. 

And as I did seme the Crowne, 

Seme the Crowne, O Crowne deseruing, 

Better tha[n] Loricus seraing. 

In witness whereof I haue set to my hande & harte. 

LORICUS, Columnse coronatse Custos fidelissimus. 

In presence of us whose names are underwritten, 

8TELLATX7S, Bectorite Coronatse CapelUmus. 

BENATUS, Equitis Coronati Seryus obseruantissimus. 

The Page bringeth tydings of his Maister's Beoouerie, & presenteth 
his Legade. 

The Buddaine recooerie of my distressed Maister, whome latelie you left 
in a Trannce (Moft ezoellent Princes!) hath made me at one tyme the 

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136 J. W. CUNLIPFB. 

hastie messenger of three trollies, your miracle, his mending, & my mirthe. 
Miracles on the sicke are seldom seene without theire mending : & mending 
of the good ys not often seene without other mens mirth. Where your 
Majestic hath don a miracle, & it can not be denied, I hope I may mani- 
fest, & it shall not be disliked : for miracles are no miracles unlesse they 
be confessed, <& mirth is no mirth yf it be concealed. 

May it therefor please you to heare of his life who lyues by you, & 
woulde not line but to please you ; in whom the sole vertue of your sacred 
presence, which hath made the weather fayre, & the ground fruitfull at this 
progresse, wrought so strange an effect and so speedie an alteration, that, 
whereas before he seemed altogether speechles, now Motion (the Recorder 
of the Bodies Commonwealth) tells a lyuelie tale of health, and his Tongue 
(the Gocheman of the Harte) begun to speake the sweete language of affec- 
tion. So tonming him selfe about to the ayre & the lyght, O wretched 
man (quoth he) callamities storie, lyfes delay, & deathes prisoner : with 
that he pawsed a while & then fixing his eyes on the Crowne, he sayd 
Welcom be that blessed Gompanie, but thrise blessed be her coming aboue 
the rest, who came to geue me this blessed rest I 

Hereat Stellatus, his Chappelaine, besought him to blesse Godonelie, for 
it was Gods spirite who recouered his spirites. Truthe (quoth he again) 
yet whosoeuer blesseth her, blesseth GKxl in her : and euer blessed be God 
for her. — The conferrence continued long, but louinglie, betwixt them; 
till at length upon question to whom the Will was directed, with knowledge 
how it was deliuered, Loricus pnbliklie acknowledged the right perform- 
ance of his true meaning unto your Boyall Majestie, to whom he humblie 
recommended the full execution thereof, & by me hath sent your Majestye 
this simple Legacie, which he disposed the rather whilst he yet lyueth, 
than lefte to be disposed after his deathe, that you might understande how 
he alwaies preferred the deed. Thus much your diuine power hath per- 
formed to him, thus far his thankfulnes hath brought mee to your Majestie. 
As for anie other Accomplementes, whatsoener Dutie yeldes to be debt, 
Deuotion offers to be dischardged ; and if my Maister's best payment be 
onlle good prayers, what need more than the Pages bare woorde, which is 
allwaies. — Amen. 

The Legacye. 

Item. I beqnethe (to your Highnes) The Whole Maknob of Loue, 
and the appurtenaunces thereunto belonging : 

(Viz. ) Woodes of hie attemptes, 
Groues of humble seruice, 
Meddowes of greene thoughtes, 
Pastures of feeding fancies, 
Arrable Lande of large promisses, 

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Kiaera of ebbing & flowing fiiaon, 

Gardens bedged aboat with priuate, for succorie, & bordered with 

tyme : of greene nothing but hartesease, drawen in the perfect 

forme of a true louers knott. 
Orchards stored with the best fruit : Queene Apples, Pome Bojalls, 

& Soueraigne Peare. 
Fishing for dajntie Kisses with smjling countenances, 
Hawking to springe pleasure with the spanniells of kindenes. 
Hunting that deare game which repentance followeth. 

Ouer A beside the Bojaltie : for 
Weftes of fearefuU dispaire, 
Strajes of wandring conceiptes, 
Fellons goods of stolne delightes, 
Coppie Holders which allure by witte writinges, 
Or Tennantes at will who stand upon good behaniour. 
The Demaines being deepe sighes, 
And the Lordes House a pittifull harte. 
And this Manner is helde in Knightes sendee, 
As maj be gathered from the true Beceauour of fajre Ladies, and 

scene in the auncient deedes of amorouse Gentelmen. 

All which he craueth may be annexed to his former Will, & there- 
with approued in the Prerogatiue Courte of Your Majesties 

In witnes whereof I haue putt to my hande & Seale ; 

LOBICUS, Colomne coronatie Gustos fidelissimns. 

In the presence of us whose names are here under written : 

STELLATUS, Rectoriie coronatie Capellanus. 

RENATUS, Equitls coronati Servus obseruantissimus. 


Hamper divided the MS. which he described as " a coeval 
copy, in a volume of manuscript collections, by Henry 
Ferrers, Esq. of Baddesley Clinton " into three parts, the 
extract printed above being headed " Part III.^* Part I 
contains "Sir Henry Lee's challenge before the Shampanie,'' 
and "The Supplication of the owld Knight." Part II 

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138 J. W. CUNLIPFE* 

consists of '^ The Message of tlie Damsell of the Qaeene of 
Fayries," "The olde Knightes Tale/* "The Song after 
Dinner at the two Ladies entrance/' " The Ladies Thankes- 
geuing for theire deliuerie from Unconstancie/' and " The 
last Songe." "The Ladies Thankesgeuing *' was printed^ 
with slight variations, in the Phoenix Nest, 1593, under the 
title, "An Excellent Dialogue between Constancie and 
Inconstancie, as it was by speech presented to hir Majestic, 
in the last Progresse, at Sir Henrie Leighe's House." Sir 
Henry Lee's house at Quarendon was honoured by a visit 
from the Queen during the progress of 1592, in the month 
of August,^ and we are thus able to fix the date and scene 
of the entertainment, which, by way of corroboration, men- 
tions Sir Henry Lee's name in the text. Part III, which 
particularly concerns us, was evidently the second day's 
programme of the entertainment, "The Ladies Thankes- 
geuing " and " The last Songe " forming part of the first 
Sir Henry Lee had been from the beginning of Elizabeth's 
reign the royal champion, and had in 1590 resigned his 
office at an elaborate ceremony, in which a "crowned pillar," 
bearing a complimentary tablet to Elizabeth, was the centre 
of the proceedings.* It is this crowned pillar of 1590 
which is so copiously referred to in the entertainment of 
1592, as quoted above. This may somewhat lessen our 
surprise at allusions to the entertainment at Woodstock in 
1575, for Sir Henry was not only Queen's Champion, but 
Lieutenant of the Royal Manor of Woodstock, having been 
appointed to that office about 1570. In this capacity he 
would be likely to have charge of the Woodstock entertain- 
ment, and the reference to it in 1592 is, in part, at least, 
accounted for. In any case, that there was such a reference 

>inehols, VoL m, p. 125. 
•See Nichols, Vol m, p. 48. 

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is beyond doabt The Dame Loricns is not a common one ; 
and the Loricos here referred to is ^^one whose harde 
adventures were once discouered^ and better fortune fore- 
shewed, by a good father of his owne coate, not farr from 
this Coppies/' Loricus^ we are informed, has turned 
hermit, and the passage just quoted makes it clear that the 
"good father of his owne coate'' was the hermit of The 
Tale of Hemetes. Moreover, the sentences immediately 
following, with the references to "open justes, the yearlie 
Uibute of his dearest Lone/' and " Himmes & Songes & 
Emblemes '' point to the identification of Loricus with Sir 
Henry Lee, who as royal champion held an annual toamfr- 
ment " to eternize the glory of her Majestie's Court,'' and 
brought the series to a close in 1590 by "justs at the tilt- 
yard " of unusual magnificence, in which "Himmes & Songes 
& Emblemes " were prominent features. The allusions to 
the later years of Sir Henry's life are clear enough ; and on 
the strength of the evidence the Quarendon entertainment 
offers, we are perhaps justified in concluding that at 
Woodstock in 1575 Loricus was understood to represent Sir 
Henry Lee. The description of the travels and feats of arms 
undertaken by Loricus in his desire "to deserue that 
reputation as this great and noble mistris woulde but thinke 
him worthy to be hers, though she would neuer bee none of 
his," corresponds to the account given of Sir Henry Lee's 
knightly exploits by the writer of |^is epitaph.^ The 

^ '' He gave himselfe to Voyage and TraTaile into the floarishing States 
of Fiance, Italy, and Qermany, wher soon putting on all those abillities 
that became the backe of honour, especially skill and proof in armes, he 
liTed in grace and gracing the Courtes of the most renowned Princes of 
that warlike age, returned home charged with the reputation of a well- 
formed traTelloor, and adorned with those flowers of knighthood, courtesy^ 
boan^, valour, which quickly gave forth their fruite as well in the fielde 
to the adTaotage (at onoe) of the two dirided parties of this happily 
united State, and to both those Princes his Sovereignes suooessirely in that 

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140 J. W. CUNLTFFE. 

knomentary defection of Loricus from his devotion to his 
mistress is perhaps merely a way of apologizing for his 
previous service to Queen Mary, though there were so many 
courtiers in the same predicament that no apology might 
seem necessary; Sir Henry began his courtiership under 
Henry VIII, and ended it under James I, so that he saw 
many changes of royal fortune. In any case, these compli- 
mentary or self-depreciatory allegories should not be pressed 
too hard : there was no question of personal devotion to 
Elizabeth in the sense of modern romantic passion, for Sir 
Henry Lee was not only married, but in his later years 
" lived for love '^ with Ann Vavasour, one of the Queen's 
maids of honour, to the scandal of even those easygoing 
times. In ordinary life, moreover, he was no knight errant, 
but an enterprising sheep grazier and encloser of commons. 
There are further references to the Woodstock entertain- 
ment in The olde Knigktes Tak, also recited, apparently, by 
Sir Henry Lee. The stanzas printed by Nichols, Vol. ni, 
pp. 199-200, should be compared with the account of the 
Woodstock bower, the pictures with posies,* and the Queen 
of the Fayry* But these allusions, though they make it 

expedition into Scotland in the year 1573 j when in goodly equipage he 
repajred to the seige of Edinburgh, ther quartering before the Castle, and 
commanding one of the batteries, he shared largely in the honor of ravish- 
ing that maiden forte ; as also in Courte, wher he shone in all those fajer 
partes became his profession and vowes, honouring hb highly gracious 
Mris with reysing those later Olimpiads of her Courte Justs and Tourna- 
ments (thereby trying and treyninge the Courtier in those exercises of 
armes that keepe the person bright and steeled to hardinesse, that by softe 
ease rusts and weares) wherein still himself lead and triumphed, carying 
away great spoyles of grace from the Soveraigne, and renowne from the 
Worlde, for the fairest man at armes and most complete Courtier of his 
times, till singled out by the choice hand of his Royall M^^,'' &c 

' Especially the first two stanzas on p. 200 with the sentence given in the 
text of the entertainment, beginning "A number of fine Pictures.*^ { p. 98. ) 

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evident that something mysterious was intended by these 
devices^ do not enlighten us as to what the mystery meant. 
Nor are we helped much, it must be acknowledged, as to 
the difficult question of the authorship. Hamper, who had 
the MS. in his possession, described it as ^^ preserved in a 
volume of collections by Henry Ferrers, Esq., of Baddesley 
Clinton," and as Henry Ferrers was a writer of some note, 
it has been suggested by Mr. Sidney Lee * that Henry Fer- 
rers was the author. If this were supported by firmer 
evidence, one would be tempted to suppose that the explana- 
tion of the references to the Woodstock entertainment of 
1575 in the Quarendon entertainment of 1592 were ex- 
plained by identity of authorship ; but to add conjecture to 
conjecture is a frivolous diversion, and it seems better to say 
frankly that the Woodstock and Quarendon entertainments 
are alike of unknown authorship. There are peculiarities 
about them which would be accounted for by the supposition 
that Henry Ferrers was the author of both, but these 
peculiarities might be accounted for in a score of other ways. 


* D. N. B., Ferrers, Henry. 

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In 1907 M. Pierre Champion announced bis discovery 
that the manuscript fr. 25248 in the Biblioth^ue Nationale, 
consisting chiefly of poems by Charles d'Orl6ans, was to 
a great extent autograph, and where not autograph, was 
revised under the personal care of the poet.^ Important 
as is this discovery for the knowledge of fifteenth century 
French literature, there is one feature of the manuscript 
which may lead us, if the slender clues are followed, to an 
identification of a new English poet of the courtly school. 

On page 346 of the MS. M. Champion finds, in the Duke's 
autograph, two roundels in English. On pages 310-313, in 
an interpolated quire not originally part of the volume, are 
six roundels and a ballade in English. This quire contains 
no piece in the Duke's hand ; but two pieces at the begin- 
ning of the quire are by him, and written in the hand of the 
earliest scribe of the volume. Although the English pieces 
are by an English hand, nevertheless the whole must have 
been in the possession of the Duke, and included by his wish 
in this standard volume of courtly poetry by himself and 
his friends.^ Another MS., Royal 16 F. 11, in the British 
Museum, was no doubt derived from the court of Burgundy, 
a literary competitor of the Duke's.* It contains, among 

* Le Manuscrit autograph t da poisies de CJmtUs cT OrUanSf Paris, 1907 
(BibliotMque du XV^ Silde), 

'This view is confirmed bj the fact that the Qrenoble MS. of Orl^ns, 
which was probably derived through Orleans' secretary, and is fully as 
early in time as the fr. 25248, also contains these poems in English. See 
on the authority of this MS. Ch. d'H^ricault : Poesies ChmpUles de CharUi 
(T OrUans, Paris, 1874, li, 287-288 ; and Aim^ Champollion-Figeac j Le§ 
Pohies du Due Charles d* OrUam^ Paris, 1842, xxii-xxviL 

* Champollion-Figeac, pp. 452-456 ; d'H^ricault, 292. 


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OrI4anB' poems, two roundels in English, evidently bj the 
same hand as those in the antograph H8« at Paris. 

Where shall we b^in our search for the author of these 
oourtly poems in English? The MS. itself points out the 
way. In its present state, it is a produot of the literarj 
court of Blois, that circle of poets which clustered around 
'le doulx seigneur/ — as Villon calls Orleans — after the 
duke's release from his English captivity in 1440. All of 
ihe French pieces in it, not by Orleans, are by personal 
friends pf the Duke, and most of them are addressed to 
him.^ The volume is, in short, a kind of album of his own 
and his friends' poems. 

It is reasonable to suppose, upon this analogy, that the 
English poems Orleans so carefully preserved are souvenirs 
of some English friend, carried by him out of England, or 
sent to him in the gpracious interchange of courtly letters 
after his arrival in France. Now history, which has not 
greatly concerned itself with Orleans' acquaintance in Eng- 
land, tells us of but one English friend, a friend so long 
valued and so sincerely devoted, that we must fairly grant 
him, even were other evidence wanting, the first claim to 
authorship of the ' Poems by an English friend.' This man 
was William de la Pole, the great Duke of Suffolk. 

As one of the inner council of nobles who governed Eng- 
land during the childhood of Henry the Sixth, Suffolk must 
have met Orleans, who had been a restless captive ever since 
Agincourt ; but it does not appear that the intimacy which 
was to bear such fateful results for both nations sprang up 
between the two, until after Suffolk's imprisonment at the 
castle of Orleans' half-brother Dunois, and the Englishman's 
return in 1432.* The historical romancer would be sure to 

> Cbampioiii pp. 5-6, aeq, 

" The facts of Suffolk's career are too weU known to require particular 
reference. His life in the Dictionary (^ Naiumal Biography giyes full 
references to the contemporary documents. 

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picture Suffolk as the captive tPamoura to the sublime 
devotion of the Maid of Orleans. Certain it is that from 
the time that Suffolk was captured hy Jeanne in open fight^ 
— or, as he says in his &mous speech of defence before Par- 
liament, evidently resenting some insinuation of yielding to 
a woman, " not otherwise, I trust, than as a knight should 
do^* — Suffolk bent every effort, with Orleans, to avert the 
awful consequences entailed by further continuing the Hun- 
dred Years' War. Upon his return to England Suffolk 
obtained the guardianship of Orleans by offering to find the 
captive prince at a figure vastly below previous contracts, 
and probably below cost. For four full years Orleans lived 
with Suffolk at Wallingford Castle and elsewhere ; and the 
English statesman made the most of his prisoner-guest in 
his continual manoeuvres for peace. The two, according to 
historical evidence, were often together at Suffolk's house in 
London. Even aft;er Suffolk, leaving England for a time in 
1436, relinquished his prisoner to Sir Reynold Cobham, he 
continued to meet his friend. At Arras in 1436, and at 
Calais in 1437, the two men represented their nations in 
negotiations. It was Suffolk who in 1440 pushed through 
the release of Orleans by ransom, while Humphrey of 
Gloucester in helpless rage stayed away from the council 
meeting. It was Orleans and Suffolk who arranged for 
Henry's French marriage, Orleans making a personal 
request that Suffolk should be the English envoy, and Suf- 
folk declining the nominal office on the ground that his 
well-known intimacy with Orleans might give color to the 
suspicion of his favoring the French. 

These years of intimacy with Suffolk witnessed the pro- 
duction of Orleans' Pohrae de la Prison, under which name 
his early sequence of roundels, ballades, and chansons may 
be grouped. La Dipartie d^Amov/ra, which seems to con- 

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dade the earliest sequenoe^ is dated hj the poet 1437.^ 
The ballades and chaDSons in the sequence were probably 
composed at odd times during the half-dozen years preceding, 
in the intervals of copying the books of devotion and instruc- 
tion with which M. Champion has made us familiar.^ It 
would seem most natural, then, that Suffolk, as a courteous 
host and welcome friend, often helped to while away a day at 
Wallingford or elsewhere, by encouragement of his friend's 
poetic gifts, or in the friendly poetic rivalry which was then 
the &shi(m.' 

^ Ghampollion-Figeac, p. 157. 
> La BiUuMque de Charles tP OrKam, Fftris, 1910. 
' Gonfirmatorj eyidence of the literary companionship of Orleans and 
Suffolk may be adduced from the fact that in MS. Harley 7333 (fol. 32y.), 
a MB. deriyative from the same Shirley that elsewhere copied down Suf- 
folk's French pieces with the details as to their origin, are two fragments 
of diansons by Orleans, hitherto tmknown to the cataloguers, and, I be- 
lieYO, to editors of Charles. The poems may have come into Shirley's 
hands from the same source that may have furnished him with the work 
of the English duke, and with the details of Chaucer's minor poems, 
given in his rubrics ; namely, from Alice Chaucer, Countess of Suffolk, 
through Lydgate. 

Balade made by the due of Orlience. 
Mon cuer chaunte joyeusement 
Quant U luy souient de la belle 
Tout son plaisir se renouvelle 
De Dieu en meulz certaignement 

En esperant q'l»en breuement 

Jarre quelq bonne nouvelle 

Dount je merci amoure et elle 
Par cheecun iour de foiz plus de cent las las dolant ami 
Que fvege des or en anaunt 
Quant jay p«rdue saunz nul recouvrement 

Mon bien mamour ma Joye et mon ami 

James nanrey ne bon iour ne demi 
fforg q'sussy payne et tourment 
Peux menz q'soit desoulz le firmament 

Joux a la mort Je nayerys q' lui. 

My friend, Mr. J. J. Mnnro, has kindly made this copy, at my request. 

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Fortunately^ we have the oompletest evidence to substan- 
tiate this inference. This consists of the five roundels and 
ballade in French by Suffolk^ printed^ for the first time, as a 
supplement to this paper ; and of a seventh French poem, 
also printed for the first time, which, as Shirley says, ^^my 
lord of Suffolk mich allowejw in his witt." Four of Suf- 
folk's poems were written to a lady from a French prison, 
precisely in the manner of Orleans' poems. One of them 
was written "affiber his oomyng oute of prysoune." The 
present tense of Shirley's rubric to the French poem men- 
tioned above indicates, since the date of the Shirley MS. is 
probably about 1440, a long-continued interest in French 
poetry. These poems by Suffolk are not bad of their kind. 
Their themes are precisely those of Orleans' poems; fidelity 
in love, the piteous estate of the absent, the pain and joy of 
the lover under the commands of Bel Acueil, the woes of 
love, the perplexity of the lover's life. Now, since there is 
not extant any French courtly verse by an English contem- 
porary of Suffolk's, who shall dispute the claim that he alone 
was fitted, not only by political agreement but by community 
of artistic interest, to be the * English friend' whose English 
poems Orleans so carefully preserved ? 

But before we may safely connect Suffolk's name with 
these English poems, two links in the chain must be forged. 
Is there any external evidence proving that Suffolk was 
likely to be interested in English verse as well as in French? 
Is there any internal evidence in the English poems pointing 
to Suffolk as their author ? Both these can be answered at 
once in the affirmative. 

The lady to whom Suffolk addressed his poem from prison, 
in 1430, was probably Alice Chaucer, who became his bride 
immediately after his return in the following year. She was 
the daughter of Thomas Chaucer, whose family's interest in 
letters is attested by Lydgate's Complaint on Departing of 

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Thomas Chancer j and whose honse^ according to Lydgate, 
was the center of the social life of the county of Suffolk. 
Above all this^ she was the grand-daoghter of Geoflfxey 
CSiaocer. What traditions of courtly usage and manners this 
couple must have kept in Suffolk ! It is certain that the 
'gentlemen dwelljng enviroun/ to whom Lydgate makes 
reference in the Complaint for Chancery were most of them 
interested in the patronage of letters. Judge William and 
Sir John Fasten^ Sir Miles Stapleton^ Sir John Fastolf^ and 
others were encouraging literature ; and Lydgate^ Capgrave, 
and Bokenham were only three among many who sought their 
encouragement. For the Countess of Suffolk Lydgate wrote 
his long poem on the MasB^ and the Duke joined her in 
several benefactions to the monk's Abbey of St. Edmund. 
As the most powerful nobleman of the shire, the Duke must 
have known and befriended the clerk who had written for 
his father-in-law and his wife, whose literary fame was the 
first in England, and who was everywhere greeted as Chau- 
cer's successor. 

Not only is there this contributory evidence of Suffolk's 
interest in English poetry, but in one of the two documents 
extant which show him a master of English, there occur two 
lines of English verse. At the end of his pathetic letter to 
his little son, the day before his exile and assassination, he 

'* And last of alle, as hertllj and as loajnglj as ever father blessed his 
child in erthe, I yeve you the blessyng of oure Lord, which of his infinite 
mercy encrece you in al vertu and good lyvyng. And that your blood 
may by his grace from kynrede to kynrede multeplye in this erthe to hys 
serrise, in such wise as after the departyng fro this wretched world here, 
ye and thei mayglorefye hym eternally among his aungelys in heven. 

Wreten of myn hand^ 

The day of my departyng fro this land. 

Your trewe and lovyng fader, 


>P<Mfo» LeUers, ed. Gairdner, i, p. 122, No. 91. 

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The ryme, written as lyme^ with which the letter oloues, 
although the affecting circumstances give it a tragic suggest 
tion to vm, is nevertheless the commonplace of the English 

" Written in haste, the very troathe to say, 
At ( Wallingford?)' upon our lady day." 

So ends a ballade among those of the Fairfax ms. I come 
immediately to consider. 

"Qo, lytel hill, and say thon were with me, 
Of very troathe, as thou canst wel remembre, 
At my uprist, the fyft day of decembre." 

So ends another. It would appear^ then^ that Suffolk's 
half-sad couplet at the close of his last letter^ a fine albmt 
melancholy affectation of " nonchaloir/' as he would have 
called it, is the result of practise in dating English letter- 
ballades. The short line followed by the long is precisely 
the habit of the translator of Orleans in MS. Harley 682, and 
the author of the GompUmd against Hope in MS. Fairfax 16. 
Far from showing ignorance of a regular couplet, it proves 
acquaintance with a peculiar trick and affectation of the time 
in courtly poetry.* 

Internal evidence, no less than the external, leads to the 
same conclusion that Suffolk was the author of the ^ Poems 
by an English friend.' The ballade tkow Fortune, which 
hast the gouvemaunce, which occurs in fr. 25248 and the 
Grenoble MS. of Orleans, was recently identified by the 
writer as one of the twenty courtly poems printed here, for 
the first time, from MS. Fairfax 16. No one who reads these 
poems can fail to observe that they are by one man, and that 
that man is not a humble poet, but a man of position, and 

> A space in the ms. is left hhink. I supply a trisyllable. 
•Compare also the poem from Fairfax 16 printed below, xiv, 7-8. 

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one familiar with Parliament and the Court.* The tone is 
that of a lordly lover^ not the sickeningly homble imaginary 
slave of love in Lydgate's verse. Some of the poems, notably 
xvuiy seem not to be about love at all, but to refer oovertly 
to political misunderstandings such as often overtook Suffolk 
in his checquered career. 

'* And as I wente, I gan xemembre me 
How long I had continued my seroyBe 
With carefall thought and gret adaenyte 
And gaerdonie8| lo, ^yoh was mjn offjse ; 
The world is strannge, and now jt ys the gayse 
Who that doth best aqwyte hym in hys trouthe 
Shall sonnest be foryot, and that ys ronthe." 

Still more interesting is the Praise of the Flower (xix), a 
poem which may have been written to please that Margaret 
(marguerite) whom Suffolk brought to Henry VI, and for 
whom Lydgate is said to have devised the pageants of wel- 
come in London in 1445. After a light-hearted praise of 
the Flower, the poet, in words more sincere than any sav^ 
Hocdeve's, laments the death of Chaucer, who had kno¥m 
so well how to praise this flower in days gone by. Then he 
turns to Lydgate, and after telling him he is the only worthy 
successor of Chaucer, takes him jokingly but roundly to task 
for making light of women in his various works, and bids 
him, if he would have pardon, to seek it at the next Love's 
Parliament. The whole tone of this latter portion, it will 
be observed, is that of a patron, not of a humble imitator 
of the Monk of Bury, Here, then, we find five points : a 
lordly patron's tone, familiar with parliaments, an intimacy 
with Lydgate, a praise of the marguerite, an affectionate 
r^et for Chaucer, and a friendship with Orleans implied 
by his preservation of one of these poems ; and these five 
attributes taken together can be fitted to Suffolk alone among 

* Kote the distinctly English setting of the ParlemerU^ no. xz. 

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the personalites of the time. The chances that any other 
man coilld possess these five points of contact with these 
poems are so small as to be negligible ; and thus Suffolk's 
identity with the English friend whose poems Orleans treas- 
ured, and who wrote the twenty poems of the Fairfax MS., 
would seem to be proved, so far as anything can be proved, 
in the absence of a contemporary ascription. 

The present writer believes, also, that the probabilities 
favor the identification of Suffolk with the translator of 
Orleans, whose 209 poems appear in B. M. Harley 682. 
Lack of space in the present paper forbids investigation of 
the topic ; and the question must wait either for M. Cham- 
pion and his pupils to settle, or for the editor of the recently 
promised edition of the poems by the Early English Text 
Society. It is sufficient here to say, that there is nothing 
in the ryme-indexes of the Fairfax MS. poems and the 
Harley poems to prevent common authorship, and that 
there are remarkable identities, in the use of ryme, ryme- 
tag, expletive, exclamations, line and ballade' structure, 
which indicate not merely common imitation of Orleans' 
poetical practice, but the work of a single hand. For 
example, the ryme -oun, so common in Chaucer and almost 
universal in Lydgate, does not occur once in the Fairfax, 
and only once or twice in the whole Harley group. On the 
other hand ' lo ' as an expletive appears three times in the 
Fairfax group and innumerable times in the Harley poems, 
whereas in the 10,000 lines of the Chaucerian verse of 
Scogan, Hoccleve, Ros, Clanvowe, Henryson, Lydgate, and 
many others in the Oxford Chaitcer,Yo\. vn, one will hardly 
find it twice. It would occur of course most commonly in 
translation, and in intricate ryme schemes; but this does 
not account for its appearance in the Fairfistx ms. group. 

It must be left to readers of the translations (now accessi- 
ble only in the Boxburghe Club print) to realize how much 

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they resemble in style and general usage of phrase and 
poetical manner the English poems here printed. No such 
comparison can here be attempted. Space is left only to 
call attention to the Chaucer reference, which is deliberately 
inserted to bring about a reference to The Dethe of the 
Duchesse^ just as the Fairfax poet has brought in a reference 
to the Legend of Good Women, The translator renders 

Oar toate la Doit mon coeur lit 
Oa roumant de Plaisant-penser, 


For al the njght mjn herte arediUi roonde 
As in the romance of plaisant Chancer. 

Throughout the translation there are the clearest indications 
that the author is no slavish imitator, but a poet himself, 
whose work is a labor of love, and who can throw himself 
with spirit into the ideas of the courtly lover. If the 
identification here proposed be accepted, we shall have a new 
poet whose work both in quantity and quality will rank 
among the first of courtly poets of England.^ 

Poems by the Duke of Suffolk 


(MS. Trin. Coll. Cam. B. 3. 20, page 25).' 

Here begynnej^e A RoundeU which my lord of Suffolk made affter 
his comyng oute of prysoune.* 

'It may be poflrible to identify other poems than those here considered, 
as the work of Snffolk. Thas the ''Ballade coloured and reversed/' in 
KB. Arundel 26, fol. 32y, and the OompieyrU to Fortune, in Camb. Univ. 
Ff. 1. 6, fol. 178, are appended as in the manner of the Orl^ns translator 
and the Fairfax poet, and possibly by him. Neither has, I believe, been 

' The numeration of the ics. is by pages, not by folios. Since 
Suffolk is called Earl throughout the rubrics, the MS. must antedate 
1444, when Suffolk was created marquis. 

* I omit some details scribbled in by John Stowe, between Shirley's 

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Doje le chaunti«r, plkiriev, ru ryre, 
Doye le toutz lours Tiure in martire, 
Ou Bi ie doye estre quant ioyeux, 
Si Tous pleat, vueillez le me dire. 

Si taunt de dolour & de Ire 
Assez & bien vous doyt suffire, 
Sanz me faire plus angueisaieux. 

Moun poure cuer vers vous se tire, 
Pour ce que vous estez le mire 

Que luy poez guerier ses deulx; 

Avisos y vn foits ou deux 
Tant que mon male plus empire. 


{Ibid., page 32.) 

jLoo here bygynne))e a Rondell made by my lord of Suffolk wbylest 
he was prysonnicr in ffraunoe. 

Lealement a tous lours mais 
Depieca & plus quonque mais, 

le Bui vostre, & voa^re me tien, 

Mamour, ma loye, & mon seul bien, 
Mon coumfort, mon desyr, ma pais. 

Ma volente, mes dys, mee fais, 
Sount tielx, & serrount a lamais, 
Cest la lesson que le retien. 

Ou que le suis, ou que ie vais, 
Quoy que ie dis, quoy que ie fais, 

Vous auez le coer que fuit mien; 

Or nous entreauion doncque Men, 

8i serrount noz playsirs parfais. 


{Ibid., page 33.) 

Tit fiIowe]>e here ano^er Roundell of my lordes making of Suffolk 
whyles he was pHsonier in ffraunce. 

Face vo coer tout ce que ly plera, 
Du mien quest trestout seen, & sera 

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Sans departir, ianuuB on que ie aoje. 
Si fermement pour rieiiB fae ie toyie, 
Autre que toub, iamait ne teruira. 

£t 8i languyt et toutdTS languira. 
Taut que par voua alegement avra, 
Mon bien, mamour, meBperanoe & loye. 

Gar Ie eoey bien, que nul ne vous aura, 
8i fort dasses, ue ne fait ne fera 

Que moj tant seul, tenir ne pourroie, 

Et par mon alme, si mourir en devoie, 
Tiel demouray, sans pensir ga ne la. 

{Ibid., page 83.) 

Puis qualer vers vous ne puisse 

Ne ma dure dolour dyre, 

Suis ie constraint de vous escrire 
La pitous estat ou ie suis. ^ 

£n rien que soit, ne me deduis, ^ 

Desire me garde bien de ryre. 

Le doloreus gens en suis, 

Pour plus nourrir mon doel & ire 

Ore me vueillez dont rescrire 
Ie Tous Bequere, tant que Ie puis. 

(/Md., page Z5.) 

Ycj oomence yn balade que flst monseignnr le Oonte ds Suffolk 
quant il estoit prysonier en ffraunoe. 

Ie Tous salue, ma maystresse, 

Et mon cuer deuers vous sen Ta, 
Pour TOUS racounter la distresse 

Dount TOUS, bel acueile, le pryua, 
5 Ainsy come il ariua 

Au manoir de mes poure yeulx, « 

Qui sans blecier moult me greua, 
Et me fist Yostre, si mayt dieux. 

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Et By nay quelque hardiesse 
10 De YOUB dire oome il me ya, 

Ne YOUB racontier la Hesse, (page 36) 
Que lors Bel acueil esleua, 
Dedeins mon cuer quil escbeua 
Dauoir autre espoir que de mieulx, 
15 Car seul sans dame me troua 
Et me fist To^^re, sy mat dieux. 

Outre plus, ma vraye princesse, 

Gelle ou nature sesproua, 
Et y mist sy bele richesse 
20 Quen vous yn chief doeure aceua, 

Onques amours mais ne maprouua, 
Que ses fais si tot fusent tieux, 

Auant pardu me retrouua, 
Et me fit Yoatre, sy mait dieux. 


{Ibid., page 35.) 

And fllowing here hegynepe a Roundell made )>e same tyme by 
my sayde lord )>erlle of Suffolk. 

Quel desplaysier, quel courous, quel destresse, 
Quel grief, quelx mauls viennent souuent damours. 
Quelx angoisses y troeuon tous le lours, 

Gertes le croy que pou y a leesse. 

lay bien cuidier, que par choisir maystresse 

Fuisse loyeux, mais le suy plain de ploures. ^ 

le nen dy plus, le seray ma lounesse 

En souspirant, pensant a meis dolours; 

Puis quen sy va, que lay tous le Rebours, 
De mon plaisir, le ne quier que tristesse. 

{Ibid., pp. 36-37.) 

Here filowe)>e a Balade made in ffraunce which my lord of Suffolk 
^rlle mich allowe)>e in his witt. 

Dieux nous dona petit de Tie, [p. 87] 

Et nous Tiuons en mourant chescun lour; 
Par aocydent selono Philosophye, 

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Par trop Repos, par petit de seiour. 

Par trop inuye, par trop payne & dolour 
Par veylir trop, par trop dormir le main, 

Par boier trop, par delis, par douloour, 
n nest home qui ait point de demain. 

Lun est que par aguet, par envie, 

Lautre en guerre, lautre muert par Rumeur, 
Lun muert par feu, lautre par navye, 

Ly autre cher par planches a destour 

Lun est pendu quand il est maufettour; 
Ly autre pert le chief par cas soudain, 

En ce monde na que painne & tristour 
II nest home que ait point de demain. 

Ou autrement home durer ne puet mie, 

Que soyssant ans outre na nul retour, 
Dont il languist en la greindre partie, 

Et ne pense point a son creatour; 

Ne que mourir doye, cest grand foulour. 
Car de la mort est chescun Terray s«rtain, 

Mais de leur milx, ne scet le Retour, 
II nest home que ait point de demain. 


Pour 06 prions a la vierge Marie, 

Quelle nous doint son filzle souuerain 
Craindre & fremir^ ou nos^re ame est perie, 

II nest home qui ait point de demain. 

Folios 318-329. 



To fle the sect of alle mysgouemaunce 

I am truly wyth-hold* in sych a place* 
Which I purpose to haue in remembraunoe 

As longe a while as I haue lyfe and spase, 

'MS. eremir. 

'ICB. hole. *M8. Palace. 

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5 Waytynge vpon her mercy & her grace; 
And 80 I thynke my matyr to procede 
GonBtreynd of hert with stedfast loue and drede. 

For as me thynke I am ry^^t hylye boonde 
To do that thyng whiche myjg^t be her plesaunoe, 
10 And her I thanke, yf in me may be founde 
O poynt of thryft or of good gou6maimcey 
Or thyng that me to worschyp shuld awaunoe; 
Thus haue I cause to seme her godelyhede, 
Constraynd of hert wyth stedfaste loue and drede. 

16 Constreynd I am, but nought ayeyn myn hert 
To loue her best as for myn hertes ese; 
Alway in drede that ought shuld me astert 
Her to offende or any wyse dysplese. 
She may my welfare maynten and encreee, 
20 Wherfor I must obbey her womanhede, 

Constreynd of hert wyth stedfast loue and drede. 


And as^ for yow that most ar in my mynde, 
Loke, in what wyse the wyll I be demened, 

8o wyl I do in any maner kynde 

Wyth alle the seruyse that I can, ynfeyned, 

6 Neuer for othir myn hert to be constreynd, 

But fully set my purpose to endure [fol. 318v.] 

To loue yow best of ony creature. 

And for as much as* I that [am] your man 
And must do seruyse to your womanhede, 
10 I yow bys[e]che as lowly as I can 

To schewe your grace it put me out of drede. 
Ryght goodly fayr, the gentyllest in dede, 

I yowe require, as her that I loue best, 

Relese my payn, and set myn hert in rest. 

15 Ther is in me no maner of comfort 

But whan that I am siyll in your presence, 

^ MB. OS. The MS. sometimes writes 08, sometimes as. I haTe 
throughout written as, 

'MS. OS. 

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Wherto I must alway make my reeort, 
Of yerqr force, withoutyn resystence; 
And yf 80 be that I haue done offence 
20 In worde or dede that shuld you dyaobeye, n 

I wyll seke grace, tber ys no more to seye. 

Remembre yow, the godely creature, 
How longe a space that I haue lyfyd in payn, 

And of comfort as yit I am not sure, 
25 But what ye lyst of grace for me ordayn, 
I lyue in hope, and ye may make me fayn. 

But of my wo sumwhat I wold ye wyst, 

I can no more, do wyth me what yow lyst. 



k>rd god, what yt is gret plesaunce 

For me to thynke, so goodly and so fayre 
Be ye that haue myn hert in gouemaunoe. 

So yertuous and eke so debonayre, 
6 So full of boimte which doth not apayre, 

But euer encreseth in your goodlyhede, [foL 319] 

All this god hath set in your womanhede, 

1 haue gret cause of yow thus for to wryte. 
Which beth in syght so goodly to by-hold 

10 And tryst fully, yf I couth wele endyte, 

I wold saye bettyr, many a thousand-fold; 

For I suppose, though god of nature wold 
Schew hys power, and all hys bysy cure, 
He couth not make a fayrer creature. 

15 O ye Lucresse, and also fair Eleyn, _. 

Thys I require yow of your gentyllesse 
That in no wyse ye take yt in dysdeyn 
Though she which is my lady and maistresse 
Stand in your noumber, for in sothfastnesse 
20 I know her not alyue, that in thys case 
Is bettir worthy ther to haue a place. 



Now lyst fortune thus for me to purueye, 
That I ne may vn-to your speche attayn, 

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Nor I ne wot on whom myn erand leye, 
To tell my thoughtys, of whych I me oomplayn^ 
6 Which hath me bounde in grete dysese and payn^ 
Hauyng no triste my purpose to accheue, 
And BO I lyue almost out of byleue. 

For wele I wot ther ys no creature 

That can tell al my greuaunce thurughly 
10 As can my-self, whereof I may make me sure, 

He lyueth not that felyth more than I 

Whych longe hath seruyd wyth-out remedy, [foL 319y.] 

Beyng a-ferd yow to dysplese or greue, 
And [so] I lyue almost out of byleue. 

15 But for my part ye schal wele knaw and fele, 
Syth I yow chase my lady for to be, 
Ne louyd I neuer creature so wele 
As yow allone, so god my warant be, 
Of pore ne ryche, of hye ne low degre; 
20 Not knowing yit how my Fortune will* preue. 
And so I lyue almost out byleue. 

And syth that ye me toke in gouemaunoe, 

Yow for to plese I haue don myn entent. 
And wyth * myn seruyse done yow obeyssaunce, 
25 Whyche late nor erly neuer did repent; 

As fortune wyll, I must hold me content. 
Myn hert ys ther as yt wyl not remeue, 
And so I lyue almost out of byleue. 



Knelyng allon, ryght thus I may make my wylle, 

As your seruant in euery maner wyse, 
To whom I yive myn hert and myn gode wylle 
Euer to be suget to your seruyse, 
5 Ryght as ye lyst to ordeyn and deuyse, 
I wyl be yours, and that I yow ensure, 
Not for to chaunge for erthely creature. 

Syth yt is so, my lady and maistresse. 
That I must nede by fortuns ordynaimoe 

*M8. whille. *MS. whyl. 

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10 Depart fro yow which is [my] most gladnesse, 

It ys to me the most heuy greuaunce 

That euer yit cam to my remembraimce, 
But euery man ys ordeyne to endure [fol. 320] 

The stroke of Fortime and of auenture. 

16 Wherefore my lady, I can say no more, 

But I am yours, with hertys obeyssaunee, 
And wyllbe forthe, as I haue ben b3rfore, 
Abydynge %tyl\ your reule and ordynaunoe 
As fortune wylle, so must I take my chaunoe. 
20 I can no more, but alle my faythfull tryst 
It lythe in yow, demene me as ye lyst. 


Ryght goodly flour, to whom I owe seniyse, 

Wyth alle myn hert, & to non othir wyght 
To yow I wryte, my lady, in thys wyse, 

As her that I owe fayth of verry ryfjbt, 
6 As ofte as I haue wysshed me in your syght 
And flours in Apryle bygynne for to sprede. 
I recomaunde me to your womanhede, 

Desyryng euer aboue alle othyr thynge 
The welfare of your beautuous ymage, 
10 Whych ys to me a verey reioysyng, 

To thynk vpon your womanly vysage, 
Havyng in mynde your young and tendir age 
That god of nature hathe in yow endowyd 
Whiche in your person nede must bene alowed. 

15 And of my matyr shortly to procede. 

This ys* treuly theffect of myn entent. 
That ye lyst grant me of your goodlyhede 
Sum of that grace that god to yow hath sent, 
Be8ech3mg yow though I be not present, [fol. 320 v.] 

20 To thynk vpon your seruantet heuynesse 
That lyueth in tryst of your gret gentilnesse. 

And at thys tyme to yow I wryte no more. 

But wold god ye lyst to haue in mynde 

This symple wrytyng which that ys byfore, 

25 That I sum comfort by your grace may fynde; 

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And god I praj, that worshypeth alle mankynde, 
That lord above, that syteth in his empire. 
He send yow loy of aile that ye deeyre. 



O wofull hert profound in gret duresse.^ 
Which canst not playn nor opyn thy dysese, 

But frete thy-selfe wyth care and heuynesee. 
Ay full of thought thy sorous to encresse, 
6 No wondir though thou be not wele at ese. 

When \Km * so far art out of her presence. 

To whom thou must do seruyse and reuerenoe. 

It ys no bote to stryue as in this case, 

Though thou complayn, she may not here thy "voys. 
10 Lat euery seson haue hys tylne and spase 

As fortune wyll, ther is non othir chois. 

But yit among thou maist thyself reioys 
For at thys tyme, though thou sumwhat be greoyd, 
Here-afterward yit maistow be releuyd. 

15 And in as mych as thou hast put thy trist 
In her allonly which is thy maistresse, 
To goueme the and reule ryght as her lyst 
' Haue thou non doute but of her gentyllesse [fol. 321] 

She wyll oonsyder thy grete heuynesse; 
20 And trysteth well that in ryght goodly wysse 
She wyll reward the after* thy seruysse. 



O thou Fortune, whyche hast the gouemaunce 
Of alle thyagea kyndly mevyng to and fro, 
Thaym to demene aftyr tbyn ordynaunce 
Ryght as thou lyst to grant hem wele or wo; 
5 Syth that thou lyst that I be on of tho 
That must be reulyd be thyn avysinesse, 
Why wyltow not wythstand myn heuynesse? 

' A recollection of Lydgate, Life of Our Lady, line 1, 
thoughtful herte, plongyd in distresse. 
'MS. you. •ms. for. 

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Me thynk thou art Tiikynd as in this case, 
' To suffer me so long a while endure 
10 So gret a payn, wyth-out mersy or grase. 

Which greuyd me ryght sore, I the ensure; 

And syth thou knowst I am that creature 
That wold be fauoured be thy gentyllesse, 
Why wyltow not wythstonde myn heuynesse? 

15 What causyth the to be myn aduersarye? 

I haue not done that which shulde the dysplese^ 
And yit thou art to myn entent contrarye, 
Whiche makyth now my sorous to encres; 
And syth ^u wost myn hert ys not in ese, 
20 But euer in trouble wyth-out sykemesse, 

Why wyltow not wythstande myn heuynesse? 

To the allonly this compleynt I make, 

For thou art cause of myn aduersyte, [fol. 321 v.] 

And yit I wot wele thou mayst vndirtake 
25 For myn wel-fare, yf that thou lyst agre; 

I haue no cause to blame no wyght but the, 
For thys thou doost of very wylfulnesse, 
Why wyltow not wythstand myn heuynesse? 


cruell daunger all myn aduersarye. 

Of whom alle louers aught sore to complayne, 
Sechyng* the ways to thayr entent contrayre, 

Syche as be trew to haue hem in dysdayne, 
5 When they haue long enduryd in thaire payne 
Supposyng alway mercy to purchace. 

Though thy malyce doth pyte so restrayne 
That trew seruauntes for the may haue no grace. 

1 say for me, ther ys no man on lyue 

10 That more hath cause to playn as in this case; 
But yt avayleth not wyth hym to stryue. 
For he is fest in many a goodly place, 

*M6. which that shulle dysplese. 
'MS. Sechyn. 


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And for bycause he stant bo wele in grace, 
Hyt augfat not the peple to dysplese; 
15 Thou^ thay ryght sore be boundyn in hit late 
Yit^ caryth he but lytyll for thayr ese. 

But for alle thys, yit wold I counsayle the, 
Walke not to large In awnter thou be schent; 

And yf thou do, yt well non othir be 
20 But tryst fully, thou shall it sore repent. 
Yit were thou bettyr, aftir myn entent, 

To reule the so that alle thys myght be pesed, 
Vpon this to make apoyntement 

That fro hensforth alle praiyse may be plesyd. 


Oompteynt [fol. 322] 

Now must I nede part out of your presence, 
Whiche causeth me to lyue in gret dystresse 

And I no socour haue, nor no defence 

For to wythstand myn inward heuynesse; 
5 Wherfor I pray you of your gentyllesse 

Haue mynde on hym that serueth faythfully 

And for your seruaunt shape sum remedy. 

Though I be far, yit haue in remembraunce 

My long seruyse abydyng euer in one 
10 Wyth-outyn chaimge or feyned couniynaunoe, 

Hauyng no comfort but of yow allone. 

To yow, my lady, thus I make my mone, 
As ye that have bene to me the best 
That euer I fonde as for myn hertys rest. 

15 Hold me escused, I haue non eloquence, 

Nor no konnyng, to wryte to my purpose, 
Made in gret hast to com to your presence 
As sone as I thys wrytyng myght endose; 
Besechyng yow, that ye wyll kepe yt close, 
20 And lat this lytyll byll with yow abyde. 

For wykkyd tongys do harme on eucry syde. 

Go forth, balade, and I shall yive yow wage; 
To her that ys my lady and maistresse 

>MB. It. 

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Be not a-ferde, but sey her thy message, 
25 Me reoomawndyng to her hye noblesse, 
Lettyng her wyt, in verey sothfastnesse, 
I wyl be truly hers in euery place 
Besechyng her accept me to her grace. . 


What shuld me cause, or ony wyse to thynk, 

To haue plesaunce or loy in any kynde 
Or any coumfort in myn hert to synk, [foL 822 ▼.] 

When I so sore am vexyd in my mynde 

5 To se the causys which that men do fynde 
To hyndyr me, ayeins all maner ryght. 

Which thynketh not but trouth to euery wy^^tt 

But he that me vngoodly doth accuse 

So wolde criste, for hys hye pyte 
10 It were wele knawn what maners he dothe vse. 

That hys allonly myght a warnyng be 

To alle women which stand in lyberte '^ 

That thay of answers may be well purueyde, 
Or ells by men they may be sone betrayede. 

15 And he that fully fetiyth hys purpose 

To sklaundyr thaym which that unworthy be. 
It ys to deme, as I may wele suppose, 
No poynt of trouthe, but verry sotelte 
20 To save hym harmles, how that euer yt be; 
But I that am not worthy to be blamyd. 
Me thynke yt wrong thus for to be dyffamed. 


Walkyng allon, of wyt full desolat. 

In my sp[y]ryt«« turmentyd to and fro, 
And wyth my-self fallyng at gret debat 

That I nad power to wythstand my wo, 

6 Knowyng fully how fortune was my fo. 
And I must nede of verrey force endure 
The vttirmest of all myn aventure; 

And then anon I gan remembre me 

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How that I had bene hyndred here byfore, 
10 Wyth-outyn cause, by gret aduersyte — 

My troubly thoughtes encresyng more and more, [fol. 323.] 

My wofuU hert oonstreyned me so sore 
That I ne couthe, as by [the] way of kynde, 
Myn heuyneese avoyde out of my mynde. 

15 And when I saw ther was non othir way 
But alway etyll my fortune to abyde. 
The god of loue anon then gan I pray. 
That he vochesafe to be apon my syde. 
Wher-euer I went, he for to be my gyde; 
20 And of that thought I sodenly abrayde, 

Wyth humble hert, to hym ryght thus I sayde: — 

''O god of love, whos noble excellence 
May be not be told by possybilyte, 
Lat thys compleynt com to thyn audience, 
26 And se that I sumwhat rewarded be 

For my seruyse, though I ynworthy be, 
And syth I ment but trouth, as in thys case, 
Haue routh on me, and take me to thy grace." 



Besechyth mekly in ryght lowly wyse. 
Now in hys nede your suget and seruaunt, 

That for as myche as he in your seruyse 
Hath of long tyme always (bene) attendaunt, 
5 Plese yt vnto your goodnes for to graunt 

The sayed besecher sumwhat of coumfort 

That he always may to your grace resort. 

Seyng also how that by many a way 

He hath full oft ben hyndyrd to yot*r grace, 
10 By siche reportes, which I dar wele say, 

Gan nought but hynder folke^ in euery place, 
And yf he be not gylty in thys case. 

Of which he is so wrongfully accusyd, [fol. 323 v.l 

As reson wyll, lat hym be hold excusyd. 

15 And syth yt lyked to your hegh noblesse 

Hym to wythholde and take as for your man, 
Be ye to hym good lady and maistresse. 

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And he shall do sych seniyse as he can. 
Hym thynketh long syth he thys seruyse bygan; 
20 Wherfore do now a charytable dede, 
To hys entent this lytill byll to spede. 



Myn hertye loy, and all myn hole plesaunce, 
Whom that I serue, and shall do faythfully, 

Wyth trew entent and humble obseruaunce, 
Ton for to plese in that I can treuly, 
6 Besechyng yow thys lytell byll and I 

May hertly wyth symplesse and drede 

Be recomawndyd to your goodlyhede, 

And yf ye lyst haue knowlech of my qwert 

I am in hele, god thankyd mot he be, 
10 As of body, but treuly not in hert. 

Nor nought shal be to tyme I may you se; 

But thynke that I as treuly wyll be he 
That for your ese shall do my payn and myfjbt 
As thogh that I were dayly in your syght. 

15 I wrjrte to yow no more, for lak of space; 
But I beseche the only trinite 
Tow kepe and saue be support of hys grace, 
And be your sheld from all aduersyte. 
Go, lytill byll, and say, thou were wyth me 
20 Of verey trouth, as thou canst wele remembre, [fol. 324] 

At myn Tpryst, the fyf t day of decembre. 



The tyme so long, the payn ay more and more. 
That in what wyse It may be long enduryd 

I can not se, It smertyth now so sore 
That for I drede lest yt wyll not be curyd, 
6 Thus I of help stand fully vnassuryd. 

And so dyscomfyt in my wytte« alle 

That now I wot not what shal me byfalle. 

The hurt is sych, yt may not wele be sene. 
And eke yt standyth in so lytell space 

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10 That ther nys salue ymade of herbys grene 
That can remeve yt from the deedly place, 
But yf that she lyst of her benyng grace 
Sum medycyn of almes to me dele, 
For in her lythe myn welfar and myn hele. 

16 To whom I pray, the flour of womanhede, 

" Haue mynde on me, which lythe in paynes bounde. 
Be ye my leche now, in my grettest nede, 
And staunche the bledyng of my pytous wounde. 
Syth that your grace may make me hole and eounde, 
20 Let me not dye, syth I so long haue seryed. 
For god yt knowyth I neuer so deserued." 



What shall I say, to whom shall I oomplayn? 

I wot not who wyll on my sorus rewe; ^ 

And in no wyse I can not me restrayn 

But alle-way styll to be faythfull and trewe. [foL 324 v.] 
6 How-euer I spede, thys mater must I sewe. 
For to myn hert sum tydyngs must I bryng. 

And coumforthles in aventurys newe, 
Thus to endure yt is a wondir thyng. 

So cam I forthe in-to a goodly playn, 
10 Wherof myn hertys rest I had a vowe, 
Among othir fair peple, in sertayn, 

I knelyd down, as was my deuyr dewe, 
Hys wofull maters hooly to oonstrewe; 
And sodenly alle thay bygan to syng; 
15 Thay rought of me no more than of a rewe. 
Thus to endure yt is a wondir thyng. 

And vpon thys I tt*myd hom agayn, 

Vn-to myn hert wyth visage pale of hewe. 

"I trow," quod he, "thy labour ys in vayn; " 
20 And I answerd that I non othir knewe. — 

"Lo, yit," quod he, "my colour shal be blewe, 
That folke may know of my stedfast lyuyng." 

But for to thynke how my sorous renewe. 
Thus to endure yt is a wondir thyng. 

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My best belouyd lady and maiBtreeae, 

To whom I must of verey ryght obey, 
I, wofull wyght, lyuyng in heuynesse, 
Wyth-out coumfort, I wot nat what to say; 
5 As oftyn tyme as thought ymagyn may, 
Wyth hert, body, my trouth and my seruyse, 
I reoomawnde me in ryght lowly wyse. 

And yf it please yow to your gentyUesse 
10 To haue knowlech as of my pore estate, 

Myn hert ys seke, and lytiie in gret dystresse, [fol. 326] 

Wyth-outyn help of loy full desperate. 

I seke refuyt, it comyth alle to late. 
That I wold faynest haue, ther-of I fayle. 
And though I playn, yt is to non avayle. 

15 But your presence wold put alle thys away 

And make me hole of alle myn gret greuaunce; 
Wher-for to god wyth all myn hert I pray ^ 

To sende yt sone, and yit be hys plesaunce. 
For, trysteth treuly, in my remembraunce 
20 Is non so mych as only your parsone. 

That knowyth god, that made us eueryehone. 

I wryte no more, but god in trinite 
He be your guerdon of hys [hye] goodnesse. 

And be your sheld from all aduersyte 
25 From mysfortune and from alle hevynesse. 
Long endure in loie and in gladnesse. 

Wrytyn in hast of verey trouth to say. 

At • vpon our lady day. 



Not far fro marche, in the ende of feueryere, 

Allon I went vpon myn own dysport 
By a ryuere, that ran full fayr and clere, 

Whiche in spiryiys dyd me gret coumfort, 
5 And to my mynde anon ther gan resort 

* Space, In the margin same hand inaerte the assumpcfon. 

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Ryght hevLj thoughts, which, in sothlastneBse, 
Gam vn-to me of ryght gret Tiikyndnesse. 

And as I went, I gan remembre me 
How long I had contynude my seniyse 
10 Wyth carefull thought, and gret aduersyte, 

And guerdonleas, lo, sych was myn offyse; [foL 825 v.] 

The world ys straunge, and now yt ys the goyse 
Who that doth best aqwyte hym in hys trouthe 
Shall sunnest be foryot, and that ys routhe. 

15 Thys dar I say, and faythfully assure. 
That wyllyngly I neuer dyd trespace; 
And in thys lyfe I may noght long endure 
Wyth-out coumjort or tryst of byttir grace. 
Pyte is lost, — this is a straunge case — 
20 And forthermore, sich ys myn happy chaunee, 
What-euer I do, yt ys gret dysplesaimce. 

Fortune vnstable, this is thya^ affray, 
To cause debat, wher non was sene byfore, 

Thyn olde custimi, I se, wyll neuer away, 
25 For of thy fauour ys but esy store. 

Thus went I forthe wyth many syghynge» sore. 

And wyth my-self full fest I coimtirpletyd, 

That for my trouth I shuld be thus entretyd. 

But for alle thys, my wyll and myn entent 
30 Shall stylle abyde as it hath done alway; 
And how that euer I haue my seruyse spent, 
I wouchewelsafe I can no forthir say. 
But yit I hope to god, to see that day 
That thouth shall reynge, and (haue) the gouemaunce, 
35 And hertys trew to lyue in thair plesaunce. 


How J)e louer ys sett to serve the floure.* 

Myn hert ys set, and all myn hole entent 
To seme this flour in my most humble wyse, 

As faythfully as can be thought or ment, 

Wyth-out feynyng or slouthe in my seruyse, [fol. 326] 

1 Title from old table of contents. 

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6 For wytt the wele, yt ys a paradyse 
To se this flour when yt bygyn to sprede, 
Wyth colours fressh ennewyd white and rede. 

And for the fayth I owe vn-to thys flour, 
I must of reson do my obseruaunce 
10 To flours all, both now and euery our, 

Syth forune lyst that yt shuld be my chaunce^ 
If that I couthe do seruyse of pleasaunoe. 

Thus am I set and shall be tyll I sterue, / 

And for o flour all othyr for to seme. 

15 So wolde god, that my symple connyng 

Ware sufficiaunt this goodly flour to prayse. 
For as to me ys non so ryche a thyng 
That able were this flour to countirpayse. 
O noble Chaucer, passyd ben thy dayse, 
20 Off poetrye ynamyd worthyest. 

And of makyng in alle othir days the best. 

Now thou art gon, thyn helpe I may not haue; 

Wherfor to god I pray, ryght- specially, 

Syth thou art ded, and buryde in thy graue, 

25 That on thy sowle hym lyst to haue mercy. 

And to the monke of bury now speke I, — 
For thy connyng, ys syche, and eke thy grace, 
After Chaucer to occupye his place. 

Besechyng the my penne enlumyne^ 
30 This flour to prayse, as I before haue ment^ 
And of these lettyrs let thy colours shyne 
This byll to forthir after myn entent; 
For glad am I that fortune lyst assent [fol. 326 ▼.] 

So to ordeyn that yt shuld be myn vre 
35 The flours to chese as by myn aventure. 

Wher-as ye say, that loue ys but dotage, 

Of verey reson that may not be trew; 
For euery man that hath a good corage 

Must louer be, — ^thys wold I that ye knew. 
40 Who louyth wele, all vertu will hym sew; • 

*This is certainly a burlesque of Lydgate's style. 

'This is certainly a parody on the moral poem by Lydgate, with 
the refrain, "Who sueth vertu, vertu he shall leere." (Halliwell, 
Minor Poems of Lydgate, 1842, pp. 216-220.) 

' Digitized by VjOOQLC 



Wherfor I rede, and counsail yow expresse, 
As for thys mater, take non heuynesse. 

These clerkys wyse, ye say were brought full lowe, 
And mad full tame, for alle thair sotelte; — 
45 Now am I glad, yt shall ryght wele be know 
That loue ys of so grete autoryte, 
Wherfor I lat yow wyt, as semeth me. 

It is your part in euery maner wyse 

Of trew louers to forther the seruyse. 

50 And of women ye say ryght as ye lyst, 

That trouth in hem may but a while endure,* 

And counsail eke that men shuld hem not tryst. 

And how they be vnstedfast of nature. 

What causetii this? for euery creature 

55 That ys gylty, and knowyth thaym-self coulpable 

Demyth alle other [to] thair case semblable. 

And be your bokys I put case that ye knewe 
Mych of this mater whiche that ye haue myned, 
. Yit god defende, that .euerythyng were trew 
60 That clerkes wryte, for then myg^t thys be preuyd, 
That ye haue sayd which wyll not be byleuyd, 
I late yow wyt, for trysteth verely, 
In your conseyt yt is an eresy. 

A, fye, for schame, thou envyous man: [fol. 327] 

65 Thynk whens thou' came, and whider to repayr* 
Hastow not sayd eke, that these women can 
Laugh and loue nat?^ Porde, yt it not fair. 
Thy corupt speche enfectyth alle the air; 
Knoke on thy brest, repent [the] now and euer 
70 Ayen ther-wyth, and say, thou saydyst yt neuer. 

Thynk fully this, and hold yt for no fable, 
That faytii in women hath his dwellyng-place; 

For out of her cam nought that was vnable, 
Saf man, that can not well say in no place. 

'Of. Lydgate's poem. They that nowhile endure. 
'lis. th<Hn. *M8. rapayr. 

*Cf. Omford OhoMoer, vol. vn, no. xiv, 1. 19; "For they can lau£^ 
and love nat." 

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75 thou vnhappy man, go hyde thy face; 
The court ys set, thy falshed is [out] tryed; 
Wyth-draw, I rede, for now thou art aspyed. 

If thou be wyse, yit do this after me; 

Be not to hasty, com not in presence, 
80 Lat thyn attourney sew and speke for the, 

Loke yf he can escuse thy necglygenoe; 

And forthermore, yit must thou recompence 
For alle that euer thou hast sayde byfore; 
Haue mynde of this, for now I wryte no more. 



ye loners, which in gret heuynes 
Haue led your lyfe, by many a straunge way, 

Beth of good chere, and leue youre pensyfnesse. 
For now the god of loue, in gret aray, 
5 Of feueryere the two and twenty day 

Be good avyse bygan his parlement 

At Secret Pense, by thapoyntement; 

Wher wyt ye wele ys ryght an huge prese [fol. 327 v.] 

Of one and other sowters many on; 
10 And ther Cupyde sate* hye vpon the deese 

As lord and reuler of hem euerychon; 

And whan that they were setyd * on and on, 
He, full ayysed by hys prouydence. 
Made crye anon in opyn audience 

15 That no man shuld, of hy estate * ne of lowe. 
What euer he be, of payn of ponyschement, 
Apere in court, but yf that he be know 
A man ryght able for the parlement; 
Also, he chargyth by comaundement 
20 That nought be sayd, but yf yt be preuyd, ' 

That no man playn, but yf he fynd hym greuyd. 

And what that euer fall by ayenture, 
To loue treuly ys hys comaundement, 

'KB. seyd. 'us. sene. 

M8. hye state. 

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In wele or wo hys seruyBe to endure, 
25 And take in gre all that fortune hath sent; 
And though yt fall sumwhat to his entent, 
As he hys labour and hys trew seruyse, 
Loke he be non avaunter in no wyse. 

And euery man oomaundyd by and by 
30 To make his byll as he can best deuyse. 
And who that speketh, speke avysely, 
That to the court yt be no pregedyse. 
Also that euery man in faythfuU wyse 
Be wamid thus, that no man hinder othir, 
35 But loue hys felowe as he wer his brothir. 

If tweyn loue one, this thapoynt[e]ment, [fol. 328] 

Loke who can best deserue to stande in grace. 

But hyndre not to forther his entent, 
In arnter thay be bothe put out of place, — 
40 For syche a thyng thay may lyghtly purchaoe, 

When on ys wrothe, to say that ys contrarye; 

Malebouche in court ys a gret aduersayre. 

When thys was do, thay bysyd hem full fast 
Forthe^ to precede in othir maters grete; 
45 And ther thay founde, how that of tymes past 
Myche peple vsyd loue to countirplete 
Whiche lyeth not in thair powers for to trete, 
But yf the god lyst for to be so large 
To graunt his pardon as for thair dyscharge.* 

50 And ypon this, thay present yp thair byllys 
Vpon her knes, wyth facys pale of hewe, 
Conpleynyng sore for many dyuerse skyllys: 
Sum sayed playnly, that fortune was vntrew, 
And sum bygan a long proces to sewe 
55 Of seuen yere enduryng in seruyse 

Wyth-out coumfort in any maner wyse. 

Sum sayd that thay were hyndyrd causeles, 
And how thay couthe not fynde no remedy; 

^ MS. for the. 

'This certainly refers directly to Poem XDC, and to Lydgate in 
particular, who was a monk, and therefore had no right to attack 

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Sum sayd absenoe ha4 causyd thair dystres, 
60 Thus were thay hurt, go<^ wot, full pittuouslye; 
And wyth o woys thay sayd all openlye, 
Bothe one and othir, wyth a lewf ul mon, 
"Of Dannger we compleyn va euerychon." 

And forth-wyth-alle thay go, by one assent, 
66 Vnto the god and prayd hym faythfuUy, [foL 328 v.] 

To yive hem leue to vttyr thair entent 
Of that at thay desyr but ryghtwysly; 
Whereof the god, ayysed thurug(h)ly 
Of thair compleyntys and thair sores olde, 
70 Yaf h^n lycenoe to say what at thay wolde. 

Then he that was the speker for hem all 
Bygan to knele and sayde all openly, 
" Lord, and yt l^e to your estat royall. 
This we desyr, and pray yow hert(i)Iy, 
76 To voyd daunger out of her coumpany 
In sich a wyse that he be not so bolde 
To eome ayen to eourt, though that he wold. 

" Lo, thys ys alle theffect of * our entent 
Wherto we pray yow to be fauorable,. 
80 Syth we be alle at your comaundement; 

Of verey trouth be now sumwhat tretable. 
And we shall graunt yow sich a good notable 
Frely to pay, and in no wyse rebate. 
For seuen yere to maynten your estat." 

86 And herevpon the god, full wele avysed. 

Thought' in his hert, as touchyng thair request 
It myght be this man were so dyspysed 
Wyth-outen cause, for he had made byhest 
To lusty Venus which he louyd best, 
90 That for no suyt to fauour thair entent. 
He should not voyde but yf she lyst assent. 

And forth-wyth-alle he yaf hem this answere, 

Sayng ry^^t thus : — " As touchyng your entent, 
I wyll that ye haue knowlech, alle in fere, [fol. 329] 

95 Thys matere axyth gret avysement. 

us. or. * MS. though. 

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And to jTve a eodeyj^ lugement 
Off that may touche my worship or my fame, 
Trewly, that were but aklaundyr to my name. 

" But trysteth wele, I wyll not reule me so; 
100 Wher-fore I wyll, be myn apoyntement 
For thys mater and thir causys mo. 
To Vivre-en-Ioye aiom my parkment, 
And alle my peple, to be ther-at present, 
Off Apryle the nyne and twenty day, 
105 To make an ende wyth-outen more delay." 

Then was yt cryde eche man to kepe hys day, 

Off payn of all his seruyse forfettyng. 
And thay that felt hem hurt be any way 

There to apere, apeyn of doublyng, 
110 Then partyd they, and made no tary(e)ng; 
Sum glad in hert, and sum in heuy case, 
Eche creature resorlyd to his place. 


ye peple, that louers yow pretende, 
Prayeth hertly to Venus the goddesse, 
115 Off your matters sych tydynges yow to sende 
That fro hens-forth we take non heyynesse. 


(From the Grenoble ms, printed by Champollion-Figeac, loo. oit., 
pp. 265-270). 


Ayens the comyng of may 

That is full of lustynes 

Let us lere all hevynes, 
As fer as we can or may. 

Now is tym of myrth and play; 
Wynter weth hys ydylnes 
Is discomfet, as y ges. 
And redy to fle away, 
Ayens the comyng of may. 

Wherefore, ladys, I yow pray 
That ye take in yow gladnes, 

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And do al your besynes 
To be mery nyght and day 
Ayens the oomyng of may. 

Go forth, myn hert, wyth my lady, 

Loke that ye spar no besynes 

To serue hyr wyth seohe lowlynes 
That ye get hyr grace and merey. 

Pray hys oftymee pryvely 

That 8che kepe^ trewly hyr promes, 

Go forth, myn hert, wyth my lady. 

I must,' as a hertles body, 

Abyde alone in hevines. 
And ye schal dwel ' with your maistres 

In plesans glad and mery. 

Go forth, myn hert, wyth my lady. ; 


For the reward of half a yere 

Two trewe louys upon the brest, 

Hyt ys ynow to brynge yn rest 
A hert that love hold in dangere. 

Whene he hath be serve w(h)at strangere 

To hym ys holyday and fest. 
For the reward of half a yere, etc. 

Though* hyt be a juel ful dere 

And a charme for the tempest, 

Yet y conseille hym to be prest, 
And fore ayens the Warderere 
For the reward of half a yere, etc 


Alas, mercy, wher shal myn hert yow fynd? 
Never had he wyth yow ful aqwaintans. 

*M8. goippe. «MS. most 

• MS. dowel. * MS. Thousches aio. 

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Now com to hym, and put of hys grevans, 
Ellys ye be unto yowr frend unkynd. 

Mercy, he hath yow ewer* in his mynd, 
Ons let hym' have sum oonfort of plesans. 
Alas, mercy, wher shal myn hert yow fynd? etc. 

Let hym not deye, but male at ons an ende* 
In al hys woo an Right hevy penans. 
Noght is the help that whyl hym avans; 

Slouth hys to me and ever com behynde. 

Alas, mercy, wher shal myn hert yow find? 

Ye shal be payd* after your whylfulnes. 
And blame nothyng but your mysgouvemans. 
For when goodlove wold f ayn had yow avans ' 

Then Went ye bak, wyth wyly fraichednes. 

I knew anon your sotyl wylenes, ^ 

And your daunger, that was mad for a scans. 
Ye shal be payd* after your whylfulnes. 

Ye might have been my lady and maistres 
Forever mor withoutyn' varians. 

But now my hert, yn England or in France 
Ys* go, to seke other nyw besynes. 

Ye shal be payd* after your whylfulnes. 


So fayre, so f resche, so goodely on-to se, 
So wele dymeynet in al your govemans. 
That to my hert it is a grete plesans 

Of your godenes, when y remembre me. 

An trustyth fully, wher that ever y be, 
Y wylle abyde undyr your obeyssanoe. 
So fayre, so fresche, so goodely on-to se. 

' MS. ewer you. ' MS. have. 

■ms. a vende. *ms. puyd. 

*M8. nuans. *M8. pauyd. 

*MS. with on thym. 'ms. Ye. 
*MS. puyd. 

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For yn my thought ther is nomo but ye, 
Whom y have servid wythout repentance, 
Wher-fore y pray yow, »ethe to my grevance 

And put aayde all myn adversite. 
So fayre, so fresche, bo goodely on-to se. 


thou, fortune, which hast the gouvemaunce,* 


Myn hert hath send glad hop(e) in hys* mesage 
Un-to oonfort, pleeans, .joye and spede 
I pray to god, that grace may hym lede* 

Wythout lettyng or daunger of passage. 

In cryst to fynd* profit and avauntage, 

Wyth*-yn short tym, the help of (al) hys nede." 
Myn hert hath send glad hop in his message 
Un*to comfort, plesans, joye and spede. 

Till ^at he come, myn hert in ermytage 
Of thoght shal dwel* alone, Qod gyre him mede; 
And of wysshyng' ofttym" y* shal hym fede. 

Glad hope folywing, and si>ede^ well thys yiage. 

Myn hert hath send glad hope in his message. 


Whan shal thow come, glad hope, from your Tyagef 
Thow hast y-taryed,** to long many a day. 
For all confort' is put fro me" away 

Tyll that I her tythinges of your message. 

*See the Fairfax group, no. vm, above. 

*M8. speding. 'M0. leeding. 

*UB, fynding. •ms. Wych. 

'M8. neding. *M8. dweling. 

*M8. wysshyngl. *M8. of tym. *MS. ys. 

'*M8. speding. 

^us, carydge, and so below, II. 8, 14. 

**M8. oonfordinge. "ms. my. 


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Wher that hyt be * lettyng of thyn uassage 

Or tarying,* alas, I can not say. 
When shal thow come, glad hope, from (thy vyage), 

Thow hast y-taryed, to long many a day. 

Who» knows fulwol J>at I have gret damage 

In abydyng* of the, that is no nay.* 

And tho fy, syng^ and* dauns, or lagh and play; 

In blake* mournyng is clothyd my corage. 
When shal thow come, glad hope from (thy Tyage), 

Thow hast y-taryed, to long many a day. 

D. FROM MS. ROYAL 16 F. 11 
Champollion Figeac, pp. 455-456 

My hertly love is in your govemaims* 
And ever shal, whill that I lyven may. 
I pray to god, [that] I may see that day 

That we be knyt with thouthfuU alyauns. 

Ye schal not fynd feynyng or vareauns, 
As in my part, that wyl I trewly say, 

My hertly love is in your gouernauns. 


Ne were my trewe innocent hert 
How ye hold with her aliauns 
That sometyme with wordes of plesauns 

Desceyved you under covert. 

Thynke, how the stroke of love cane*^ smert 

Without warnyng or deffiauns, 
Ne were my trewe innocent hert. 

^MS. Hat that hade be. 'lis, cariynger. 

»MS. How. *MS. abydynger. 

»M8. way. •ms. syngling. 

* MS. et. * MS. clake. 

*MS. et. ^MS. come. 

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And ye shall pryrely or appert 

See her by me in loves dauns, 

Wyth her faire femenyne contenauns. 
Ye shall never fro her astert, 
Ne were my trewe innocent hert. 


Balade coulourd and Reuersid 
(MS. Arundel 26, fol. 32 v.) 

Honour and beaute, vertue and gentilnesse. 
Noblesse and bounte of grete valure, 

ffygure playsant with coulour and fresshenesae, 
Witnesse prudent^ -with connyng and nortu^re, 
Humblesse with contynuanoe demure, 

Plente of this have ye, lo, souuerayn, > 
Expresse soo youe fourmyd hath nature, 

Pyte savyng, ye want no thyng certayne. 

Creature noon hath more goodlynesse 
Goodenesse grete, so wred yow hath vre; 

ffeture and shap of faire lucresse, 
Mekenesse of Tesbe, as volde of all rigure, 
ffrendelynesse of mede, port of geynure, 

Pennolope of hestis, true and playne, 
Alcesse of Bounte lo, thus ar ye sure, 

Pite savyng ye want no thyng oertayn. 

Endure me doth, lo, payne and hevynesse, 
Distresse and thought wtt^ trouble and Langour, 

Vusure stondyng of socour and Relesse; 
Maistres and lady, trustyng you of cure, 
Witnesse of Qod, I gre myn aduenture, 

Parde is falle me what joy or payne. 
Gladnesse or woo, thus I you ensure, 

Pytte savyng ye want no thyng certeyn. 


Prynce[sse] I you beseche this rude meture 
Ye not disdayne, beholde wit^ eyen^ tweyn, 

*MB. theym. 

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Witnesse though^ I doo in this scripture, 
Pite Savyng ye want no thyng certeyne.' 


Ballade from MS. Cam. Univ. Lib. Ff. 1. 6, fol. 178, probably by 
the same author. 

A mercy, fortune, haue pitee on me, 

And thynke that ]>ou hast done gretely amysse. 

To parte asondre them whiche ought to be 
Alway in on, why hast pon doo thus? 
5 Haue I offendyd the, I? nay, ywysse; 

Then tome thy whele, and be my f rende agayn. 

And sende me loy where I am nowe in payn. 

And thynke, what sorowe is the departyng 

Of ij trewe hertes louyng feithfully, 
10 ffor partyng is the most soroughfull thynge, 

To myn entent, that euer yet knewe I; 

Therfore I pray to the. Bight hertely, 
To tume thy whele & be my frende agayn. 
And sende me loy where I am nowe in payn. 

15 ffor tyll we mete, I dare wel say for trouth 

That I shall neuer be in ease of herte, 
Wherfor I pray you to haue of me summe Boutii 

And release me of all my paynes smerte. 

Nowe sith ]>ou woste hit is nat my deserte, 
Then tome thy whele And be my frynde agayn. 
And sende me loy where I am nowe in payn. 

Henbt Noble MaoCbacken. 

*HS. thowe. 

'Note initial and internal ryme in this poem. 

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The present study originated in a suggestion of Mon- 
sieur Marius Sepet, of Paris. ^ In his famous monograph, 
Les Prophetes du Christ,^ in describing the so-called 
Festum Asinorum of Rouen, M. Sepet contributes the 
following note : 

TeUe est auBsi la voie que suit le cort^ dans I'Offioe de la 
Presentation, par Philippe de Maizi^res. Get office est un 
document des plus pr^cieux pour lliistoire de la mise en sctoe. 
Notre confrere et ami M. Anatole Lefoullon se propose de la 
publier d'aprto le mss. Celestins 15, 6. I.* 

The early demise of M. Lefoullon prevented the accom- 
plishment of his purpose, and, as it appears, no other 

*I am glad of every opportunity for expressing my gratitude to 
Monsieur Sepet for numerous favors extending over a number of 
years. In the present instance I owe M. Sepet suggestions and 
encouragement without which I should never have undertaken the 
task in hand. 

'Bibliothdque de VtcoU des Chartes, Vols, xxvm (1867), 1-27, 
211-264; XXIX (1868), 105-139, 261-293; xxxvin (1877), 397-443. 
These articles are reprinted and united to form the volume, Lea 
Frophitea du Christ, Paris, Didier, 1878. I make my references to 
the single volume. 

'Sepet, p. 45, note 1. The new press-mark of this manuscript in 
the Biblioth^ue Nationale is Latin 17330. In his Notice aur la vie 
et lea ouvragea de Philippe de MM^rea {Eoole Imperiale dea Ohartea. 
Poaitiona dea Th^ea aoutenuea par lea 4Uvea de la promotion 1864- 
65, Paris, 1865, p. 41), M. Lefoullon refers to this document as 
follows: ''Dans le manuscrit 15, Celestins, mise en sc^ne de Toffioe 
de la Presentation de la Vierge; des noms des 22 personages, des 
vdtements et ornements, de Tarrangement du lieu, de la processions, 
de la representation de Marie, de la Messe et du sermon." 


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scholar has hitherto succeeded to his intention. Although, 
then, this document has lain in neglect these many years, 
and although, meanwhile, many important additions have 
been made to our knowledge of mediaeval drama, M. 
Sepet's appraisal remains, I think, sound and modest: 
" Get oflBce est un document des plus precieux pour I'his- 
toire de la mise en scene." 


The Festum Praesentationis Beatae Mariae Virginis in 
Templo (November 21) had its origin in the following 
story from the apocryphal Gospels.^ In fulfillment of 
a vow made by her parents, Mary, at the age of three 
years, accompanied them to the temple, ascended the steps 
unaided, and, after making a vow of virginity, remained 
in the temple to be brought up with other virgins. 

*For the apocrjrphal texts see C. Tischendorf, EvwngeUa Apoo- 
rypha, Leipzig, 1876, pp. 14-17 {Protev<mgelium Jaoohi, cap. vii- 
viii); pp. 117-119 {De Nativitate Mariae, cap. vii-viii). Cf. K. A. 
H. Kellner, Heortology, London, 1908, p. 265; 88, D. Y. Benedioti 
XIV Opera in duodecim iomus distrihuta, t, x, Bomae, 1761, p. 
532; P. Vigouroux, Diotionnaire de la Bible, Vol. IV, Paris, 1904-08, 
col. 782-783; RealenoyklopOdie fUr proteatantisohe Theologie and 
Kirohe (Herzog-Hauch), Vol. xn, Leipzig, 1903, p. 320; A. F. James, 
Dictionnaire , , , de la Bihle par le R&o&rend P^e Dom Auguatin 
Calmet {Enoyclop6die TMologique par Migne), t. m, Paris, 1846, 
col. 1233; Migne, Diotionnaire des Apooryphes {Troisidme et Der- 
ni^e Enoyolop4die ThMogique par Migne), t. I, Paris, 1856, ooL 
1017, 1053, 1065; Rohault de Fleury, La Sainte Vierge, t. i, Paris, 
1878, pp. 47-53. As to the general tradition concerning the presen- 
tation of virgins in the temple see Benedioti XTV Opera, t. x, pp. 
532-534; P. Canisius, De Maria Virgine incomparahili et Dei Oen/i- 
trice aacrosanota Ubri quinque, Ingolstadii, 1577, pp. 81-86; 
[Gosselin], Instruotiona hiatoriquea, dogmatiquea et morales awr las 
prinoipalea F4tea de VEgUae, t. in, Paris, 1850, pp. 362-363; Vigou- 
roxix, Diotionnaire, Vol. iv, col. 783-784. 

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During her years in the temple she rejoiced in daily visits 
from angels and in heavenly visions. When Mary reached 
her fourteenth year, the High Priest wished to send her 
home, in order that she might marry; but she interposed 
her vow of virginity. After divine consultation the High 
Priest summoned the youths of the house of David and 
promised Mary as a wife to him whose rod should blossom 
and to whom the Holy Ghost should descend as a dove. 
Joseph was the chosen one. 

The feast based upon this tradition originated in the 
East, where for some centuries, at least, the observance 
of it was exclusively confined. Although the date at 
which the feast was established is a matter of doubt, 
writers agree, in general, that this observance is first 
officially mentioned in a Constitution of the emperor 
Manuel Comnenus, of the year 1166.^ Of the liturgical 
offices of the Feast of the Presentation in the East no 
adequate study has yet been made. Their general nature 

^See Phota Patriarchae CoMtaniinopiUtani Nomooanon own 
OommentarUs Theodori BaUamonia, Titul. vii, cap. i, in BihUotheoae 
Juris Oanonioi Veteria, t u, Paris, 1661, p. 921; Benedioti XFV 
Opera, t. x, p. 534; Kellner, p. 206; Vigouroux, DictionnaMrey Vol. 
IV, ool. 784; RealenoyklopAdie fUr proteaiantieohe Theologie und 
Kirche (Herzog-Hauch), Vol. xn, p. 320; J. Hastings, A Dictionary 
of the Bible, Vol. in, Edinburgh, 1900, p. 291; F. A. Zaccaria, Ono- 
maatioon Rituale Seleotum, 1. 1, Paventiae, 1787, pp. 102-103. Kraus 
and Schrod (Weteer und Welte's Kirchenlewikon, 2d edit., Vol. vni, 
Freiburg, 1891, ool. 817) assign the introduction of this feast at 
Constantinople to the year 730; but their evidence in not trust- 
worthy. Cf. Kellner, p. 266, note I. G. Moroni {Diaionario di 
Erudizione Storico-Eoolesiaatioa, Vol. 56, Venezia, 1862, p. 171) 
speaks of this feast as being mentioned "ne' piU antichi marti- 
rologi." For other statements as to the early observance of the 
feast in the East see P. Gu4ranger, The Liturgical Tear, Vol. vi, 
Stanbrook Abbey, Worcester, 1903, p. 345; J. Baudot, The Roman 
Breviary, London, 1909, p. 84; F. G. Holweck, Fasti Mariani, 
Freiburg, 1892, p. 267. 

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and sanction, however, are indicated in the following 
passage from a letter of Philippe de M6ziSres: 

Temporibufl namque antiquis, et, ut creditur, in primitia 
ecclesia quando Ciuitas Iherusalem et Terra Sancta per 2>i8ti- 
anos detinebatur, ibique in aliis partibus Orientis in quibuB 
uigebat fides catholica, Sanctis patribus instituentibufl et ueri- 
similiter miraculis declarantibus, festum beatissime semper 
Virginis Marie, quando in tercio etatis sue anno in templo per 
se ipsam quindecim gradibus templi miraculose asoensis, fuit 
in dicto templo a parentibus suis presentata, die xxi mensis 
Nouembris deuotissime et solempniter celebratur. Et adhuc 
in regno Cypri deuotissime per fideles Orientis colitur de pre- 
senti, et habet officiimi totum proprium et deuotissimum 
secundum usum Curie Romane, etiam musioe notatum/ 

Until further study reveals the nature of the Eastern 
office more accurately, we must be content with some such 
summary statement as this from Philippe de Mezieres. 
However ignorant we may be in regard to the original 
feast in the East, our information as to the introduction 
of this observance into the West is both abundant and 
detailed, thanks especially to the activity and literary dili- 
gence of this same Philippe de M&ieres (1326 or 1827- 
1405), 2 for to this distinguished nobleman we ow6 the 
documents printed below. In connection with our present 
study we find him midway in his fascinating career as 
diplomat, soldier, writer, traveler, crusader, rand religious 
enthusiast. After serving in one or another of these 

^ Paris, Biblioth^ue Nationale, MS. latin 17330, fol. 4r-4T. A 
description of the manuscript and a complete text of the letter will 
be found below. 

'The definitive life of this interesting personage is that of N. 
Jorga, Philippe de M^sti^es, Paris, 1896 {Bibliothique le l'£cole 
dee Hautee J^tudes, Fascicule 110). A short account of Philippe de 
M^6res' career is to be found in A. Molinier, Lea Sources de 
VHistovre de France, t. iv, Paris, 1904, pp. 112-116. 

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capacities in France, Italy, and the Orient, and after 
devoting himself during a score or so of years to the 
interests of a new crusade, Mezifires became (1360-61) 
Chancellor of the Kingdom of Cyprus, an oflSce which he 
held until the death of King Pierre de Lusignan, in 1369. 
It was during the period between the death of Pierre de 
Lusignan and his own accession (1373) to the office of 
Counseller under Charles V that Mezieres concerned him- 
self devotedly with the introduction of the Feast of the 
Presentation of the Blessed Virgin Mary into Western 
Europe. After a sojourn (1369-70) in the convent of 
St. John the Evangelist in Venice,* and after a year or 
so of activities that are practically imknown to us,* 
Mezieres arrived, at the opening of the year 1372, at 
Avignon, as special ambassador from the court of Cyprus 
to announce to Pope Gregory XI the coronation of 
Pierre II (January 6, 1372). Although the object of 
the embassy was soon accomplished. Pope Gregory kept 
the devout and companionable ambassador beside him 
for a year or more. During this period of intimacy with 
the Pope, Philippe de Mezieres had a sympathetic oppor- 
tunity for advancing the liturgical project now before us. 
A devotee of the Blessed Virgin, and familiar with the 
Festum Praesentationis as he had seen it observed in the 
East, our enthusiast piously urged the establishment of 
this feast also in his own Western Church.' Fortunate 
indeed we are to know every detail connected with this 
establishment, from a substantial epistle written by Phi- 
lippe himself. To this capital document, then, we must 
turn, and to Philippe's own manuscript in which it is to 
be found. 

*See Jorga, pp. 402-404. 'See Jorga, p. 404. 

■ See Jorga, p. 412. 

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The official description of ms. latin 17330, in the Biblio- 
th^ue Nationale in Paris, is short: 

17330. Office de la Presentation. Fin du xiv a. — C€l.* 

The manuscript measures 240 x 354 millimeters, and con- 
tains 25 folios of substantial parchment. The collation 
may be expressed as follows: a a^* b*^. The principal 
items of the codex are written in a hand of the late four- 
teenth century, and none of them could have been written 
later than during the first half of the fifteenth century. 
The recto of the fly-leaf is blank. Of the entries (and 
numerous scribblings) on the verso, the following three 
are the most important: 

(1) In a hand of the end of the fourteenth century: 

: Jhesus : 

Iste liber est Domini' Fhilippi de Maseriis 

cancellarii regni Gipri. 

(2 ) In a hand of the beginning of the fifteenth century : 

Iste liber est de Conuentu Fratrum Celestinorum de Porisiia. 
29. a.* 

(3) In a hand of the beginning of the fifteenth century : 
Tabula contentorum in hoc uolumine. 

Prvmo: Sermo de Presentatione Virgfnis Morie a liiagistro 
Johanne de Basilia Doctore in Theologia Generali Fratrum 
Heremitarum Soncti Augustini. 

^L. Delisle, Inventaire des Manu3orit8 latins de Notre-Dame et 
d*autre3 fonds conserves d la BibliotMque Nationale sous les numirot 
16719-18613, Paris 1871, p. 41. 

'29. a. is the mark given the manuscript in the library of the 
Celestines of Paris. The same mark is found on fol. 24r. The 
possession of this codex by the Celestines of Paris is explained by 
the fact that after the death of Charles V (1380), M^^res asso- 
ciated himself with this community for the rest of his life. See 
Jorga, pp. 443 ff. 

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Item; Ept«^ola Domini "Philippi de Maseriis quondam Cancel- 
larii Cipri de Solemnitatc Presentationis Beate Marie Virginis. 
Fo. 4. 

Item: Qutddam miraculiim Beate Marie de doubi«« ludeis per 
pedes supensis quos Beate Virgo inuocata liberauit, et baptizati 
fuerunt, Fo. 6. 

Item: Officium Prefientationis Beote Marie cum nota. Fo. 7. 

Item; Historta de Pre«entatione Beate Marie per sex lectiones 
pro octaua. Fo. 14. 

Item; Missa de eodem festo cum nota. Fo. 15. 

Item; Recommendatio solemnitatie Preaentationis Beate Marie 
in Templo. Fo. 17. 

Item; De quihwdam actibu« representantibiiA ^ eandem 
Preaentationem Beate Marie in Templo et proceasione fienda in 
Missa. Fo. 18. 

An additional inventory, in some respects more detailed, 
may be constructed as follows : 

(1) Fly-leaf, recto: Blank. 

(2) Fly-leaf, verso: Several entries of the late 14th 
and the early 15th centuries as to the ownership and 
content of the manuscript. 

(3) Fol. 1*^-3^: <headed> Sermo de Pre^entattorw 
Marie in Templo . . . <saec. xiv ex.>. 

(4) 4'-5^: <headed> 'Ejpistola. de solemnitate Pre- 
sentacioms "Beate Marie in Templo et nouitate ip^ius ad 
partes occidentales . . . <saec. xiv ex. Printed below>. 

(5) Fol. 5^-6': Appendix (in the same hand) to the 
Epistola, recounting a miracle of two Jews. 

(6) Fol. 6^: <headed> Oroison de Monaigneur Saint 
Joachim^ pere de la Yierge Marie . . . < saec. xv>. 

(7) Fol. 7^-17': Officium Presentacionis Beate Marie 
Virginis in Templo, quod festum celebratur uicesima 
prima die mensis Nouembrfs <saec. xiv ex. Cur8us = 
fol. 7'-15'; Missa = fol. 16'-17'>. 

*1C8. repreaenteniibiK. 

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188 KABL Yoinsro 

(8) Fol. IV: Without heading, a note of the early 
15 th century regarding the officia of the Feast of the 
Presentation of the Virgin, Printed below. 

(9) Fol. 18'-24': Without title, in a hand of the late 
14th century, a dramatic procession for the Mass of the 
Feast of the Presentation of the Virgin. Printed below. 

(10) Fol. 247: Irrelevant entries of the 15th century. 
That this manuscript belonged to Philippe de Mezieres 

himself is definitely settled by the entries on the fly-leaf, 
printed above. The date and content of these entries 
prove their original association with the body of the manu- 
script. This codex is, then, a thesaurus of information 
as to the Festum Praesentationis Beatae Virginis in Tem- 
plo, and in all that relates to the establishment of this 
feast in Western Europe it is certainly the most important 
of known documents.* 

For our present literary purpose the two most important 
articles of the manuscript are number (4), the Epistola 
(fol. 4*^-5^), and number (9), the dramatic procession 
(fol. 18^-240. The text of the first of these is as 
follows : ^ 

^That this document should have been so generally neglected by 
liturgiologists seems little short of incredible. 

* Paris, Biblioth^ue Nationale, MS. latin 17330, fol. 4r-5v. A 
15th century text of this letter is found in Bibl. Nat. ics. latin 
14454, fol. 2r-4v, and an incomplete text of the early 15th century 
is found in Bibl. Nat. MS. latin 14511, fol. 182T.183r. Jorga (pp. 
411-414) quotes sparingly from a text of this letter in Meurisse, 
Lettrea de Cha/rles cinquidme et de Philippe de Maiai^ea, Metz, 1638, 
in -12, pp. 6 ff. Since this print is not to be found in the Biblio- 
th^ue Nationale, in the British Museiun, or in the Bddleian Library, 
it may fairly be considered inaccessible. In Hiatoria Univeraitatia 
Pariaiensia , , . autore Caesare Egaaaio Bulaeo, t. iv, Paris, 1668, 
p. 441, the opening sentences of our Epistola are quoted " ex Epistola 
Philippi erga B. Virginem toto animo affecti irtelligitur, quae 
legitur in libello excusso Metis anno 1638." 

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<fol. 4'> EpiriOLA DB 80LBMNITATB PBEflBNTACtOniS 

Beate Mabib in Tbmplo bt nouttatb ip«ius ad 


TTniuersis in Domino fidelibus, maxime XpistismB ooci- 
dentalibua, PhilippuB de Maiserijs, Picardie miles infimus, 
regni Cypri indignufl canoellarius uocatus, ac gloriose 
Virginia Marie zelator abortiuus, sentencias irati sutmni ' 
indicia per Mariam enadere et ad nitam aempitemam 
peruenire, exdamare plemmqtt^ compellitnr dolorem comr 
munem et mala gentis nostre in Ineem ad memoriam 
reduoere. Dicant igitur nunc cnm lacrimis qui redempti 
aunt a Domino Thesu: Ye nobis X/>ri^fanis9 rubor in 
facie et liuor infamie^ quia non sunt occultata hodie a 
filiia alienigenarum infidelium qui in circuitu no^fro sunt 
mala inexplicabilia Xpi^tanis adeo inflicta peccatis hec 
impetrantibus. Quaitte nempe pestilentie^ seditiones, mor- 
talitatea, guerre, proditionea, et hereaea temporibua nostris 
iiisur<r>exerunt, maxime ad plagam occidentalem, patet 

Flagellauit etenim Deua et continue flagellat XpistisL- 
noa, qui ad mortem, qui ad gladium, qui ad famem et 
captiuitatem, leremia predicente, et uere cum Bernardo 
ad Oatiensem, P^iestrinum, et Tusculanum oardinales 
scribente, hodie non immerito dici potest: Sapientiam 
uincit malicia, adduntur ubiqtt^ comua impiis, et exarma- 
tur iusticie zelus, et non est qui facere bonum, non dico 
uelity sed possit; superbi iniqui agunt usquequaque, et 
nnllus audet contra mutire, et utinam uel ignorantia tuta 

*A Uter hand has added: A Magnifloo D. Fhilippo De MaMriit 
* Supplied from a contemporary entry in the right margin. 

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esset^ et iusticia ip^a Bibimet sufficeret defensioni. "Kec 
iUe. ■ 

Nee mirum, Patres et Fratres carissimi, quia cum pre- 
cibus nostris pulsamus redemptorem non calescit, quia 
natus est nobis ; auertit f aciem suam et conturbati sxuxms. 
Quid igitur fiendum est desperandum ? Absit Sed in 
tantis processis flagellis et periculis secure ad portum salu- 
tis festinandum uidelicet ad aduocatam -peGcatorum, 
Mediatricem Dei et hominum, Reginam misericordiey et 
Matrem Dei, intemeratam Virginem Mariam X/»trfif eram 
cum nouis laudibus uociferando reccurendum, ut uide- 
licet sua pietas sinum sue ^ misericordie nobis adaperiat, 
et in recensione iocunditatis laudum sue Pre^entacionis 
deuotiit5 allecta apud henedictum fructum uentrts sui, 
Thesum filium suum unigenitum, pro miseria nostrsi ip^um 
placando plus solito intercedcre dignetur, ut ip^a adiu- 
uante et protegente a malis liberemur, ad uiam recfam 
reducamur, et sine timore de manu inimiconim nostroTum 
liberati seruiamu^ illi deinceps in sanc^itate et iusticia 
omnibiw diebus nostris, 

Cantemus igitur carmen nouum Regine oeli, et anti- 
quas laudes Marie 'Presenisiionis in Templo de partibus 
Orientis nouiter coruscantes uniuersis iTatri\ms no^is 
Xpistianis in plaga occidentali, australi, et septentnonali 
de gentibus pro antidoto et leticia sptrifuali annunciemus, 
Audiant ergo uniuersi Catholici Europe et Affrice, pre- 
sertim deuoti intemerate Virginis, eius deuotissimam 
solennitatem utiqi^ in eccleria occidentali nouam ac 
rutilantem in cordibiw zelatorum Virginis, qioimuis anti- 
quam in eeclesisL orientali, et ad nouam deuottonem ex- 
citentwr. Temporibus namqite antiquis, fit, ut creditur, 

"This word is written above the line, in a later hand. 

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in primitia eccZe^a quando ciuitas oanata, Iheru^lem et 
Terra Sancfa per Xpistianos detinebatur, ibique in'aliis 
partibus Orientis in quibus uigebat fides catholica, Sanctis 
pafribus instituentibus et uerisimiliter miraculis dedar- 
antibus, f estum Beatissime semper Virginis Marie, quando 
in tercio etatis sue anno in templo per se ip«ani <fol. 4'^> 
quindecim gradibus templi miraculose ^ ascensis, f uit in 
dieto templo a parentibus suis pre^entata, die xxi 
mensis Nouembris deuotissime et solempniter celebraba- 
tur. Et adhuc in regno Cypri deuotissime per fideles 
Orientis colitwr de pre^enti, et habet officium totum pro- 
prium et deuotissimum secundum usum Curie Bomane, 
etiam musice notatum. 

Quod quidem festum supramemoratus cancellaritx^, 
qimwiuis indignus et inutilis, pre deuotto?ie Virginis et 
iocunditate admirans et in corde suo pie extimans indig- 
num quod tanta solennitas partes lateret occidentales, in 
quibus, protegente Domino, fidei plenitudo oonsistit, ob 
leuerentiam ipsius Beatissime semper^ Virginis, ip«a 
adiuuante, dictam solempnitatem iam pluribus annis elap- 
sis in aliquibtw partibus Ytalie, uidelieet in predara 
ciuitate Venetiarum, aliquibt^s elecfts denote Virginis ip- 
siu^s ciuitatis adiuuantibus, solempniter celebrari fecit cum 
repre^entatione figurata et deuotissima, aliquibus signis 
et uisionibus dictam solempnitatem de cetero celebran- 
dam confirmantibus et eam commi^nicantibus, de qua 
certe noua deuotio et iocunda MatAs Dei in cordibus mul- 
tonzm fidelium non mediocriter exorta est. 

Adueniente plerumqiie dicto cancellario ambassiatore 
serenissimi principis, Petri Ihertx^alem et Cypri regis 
iuuenculi filii, quondam armipotentis Macbabei uictorio- 

*A contemporary entry in the left margin. 
'A contemporary entry in the left margin. 

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sissime ao lacrimabilis memorie sni quondam domini pro 
factis orientalibuB ad pedes Soncftssimi in Xpisto Tatns 
et Domini No^iri Domini Ghregorii Pape undecimi, Sacro- 
sancte Eomane ac Uniuersalis Ecclerie Summi Pontificis, 
toto nisu anhelante ut solennitas sepetacta Beate Marie 
semper Virginis ubiqt^ terrarum SLUctoritate aporfolica 
diuulgaretur, et cum ilia humilitate qua potuit, non qua 
debuit, et deuottone qualicumque oracionum tamen fultus 
multorum deuotorum Virginis utriusqtte sexus et adiutus 
non in arcu suo sperans sed in arcu celesti qui diuinam 
maiestatem inclinauit naqiie ad uterum uirginalem, dicfo 
Sancfissimo Pape Gregorio dictam solennitatem rutilantem 
none deuotionis beatitudini sue tunc ignotam minus male 
annuTiciauity ac officium integrum etiam musioe notatum 
humiliter pre^ntavit, supplicando eidem sanc^itati, nice 
deuotorwm Virginis, ut tanta solennitaa Moiris Dei, 
ab occidentalibus incognita et neglecta, ubiqi^ terrarum 
auctoritate aposfolica celebrari mandare dignaretur, aut 
saltem deuotis uolentibus celebrari permitteret. Qui qui- 
dem sa/ruitissimus Pater Qregorius sane uigilans in hiis 
que fidei sunt, et recensione multiplici armonie diuini 
cultus, uelut alter Dauid i-psius panaye ^ singulariter elee- 
tt^ imitator, in summa demeiitia et mansuetudine in 
florida castitate et humilitate in zelo fidei et feruenti 
deuottone Marie, non utiqtxe annunciantis Zinguam bal* 
butientem abhorrens seu Zeprosum haurientem aquam munr 
dam repellens, sed amore Virginis tactus et inflammatus, 
libellum officii memorati manibus propriis dignanter re- 
cepit ac post multa et deuotissima uerba ip^us animam 
dicti Cancellarii fragilem pre deuotione penetrantia, owi- 
cludendo Sonc^isaimw Pater in laudem Virginis prorupit 

'A tick over this word ref^s tl» tbt wordi: gr«08 llari% |n tiie 

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dicens : Non est aliquod remedium ita efficax cuicumque ^ 
peccatori sicut recursum habere in omni nece^ritate ad 
Beatam Virginem Mariam^ eiqti^ adherere sibi seruire et 
ip^am laudare. Hec ille. 

Tandem dementiseimtw * Papa ^ zelator honoris Marie, 
uiso officio in studio proprio, importunitate dicii' Can- 
cellarii * postea proseqwente uolnit pie et cBiholice sepe- 
tactum officium per aliquos reuerendissimos patres et 
dominos cardinales ac magi^tros in sacra pagina solempnes 
examinari debere, quod et factum est, nam 'Ejpiscopus 
Pamien^ sancfo memorie, Urbani Fape ac Domini Ko^i 
Gregorii Pape confessor, solempnis in theologria magt^er 
Ordtnis Hcremitarum Sancti Angustini, et Quilielnms 
Romani Ordtnis Fratrum Predicatorum etiam in sacra 
' pagina magi^er Sacri Palacii, primo examinauerunt dic- 
tum officium. Dein^fe Beuerendisstmu^ Pater Domtntis 
Bertrandus Glandaten^^ tituli Sancte Prisoe, Fretbyter 
Cardinalis, solempnis magi^er in sacra pagina de Ordine 
Minorum officium prolixe ezaminauit et aliqua propria 
manu correxit; deinde etiam Reucrendissimi Pafres 
Domint^s Anglicus Albanen^^ 'E^copxi& Cardinalis, et 
Dominws Petrus Hyspalen««, tituli Sancte Praxedis, 
Treshyter Cardinalis; post istos uero domtnos Prater 
Thomas quondam Minister Generalis Ordinis Beati Fran- 
cisci, nunc uero Pafaiarcha Graden^, Episcopw^ Cauilo- 
nensis, Minister <fol. 5'> Francie, Minister Hibemie, 
et Procurator Ordinis Minorum. Omnes magi^i in 
sacra pagina insimul congregati dictum officium uiderunt 

^ A oontemponiry entry in tbe left margin. 

' Supplied from a contemporary entry in the left margin to replace 
the words Banctissimus pa^er, which are crossed out. 

• Supplied from a contemporary entry in the left margin to replace 
the word mea, which is crossed out. 


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et in pre^entia Teuerendissimi dicti Domini Cardinalis 
Glandaten^ non solum dic^am soUennitatem et officium 
approbauerunt sollennizandum, eed etiam ut celebrari 
debeat a deuotis uolentibus ubiqii6 instanter interoesserunrt 
Factaqt/^ relatione de omnibus ad sancfitatem pomini 
Nostri Tape, idem uicaritw dignissimiw et imitator illius, 
qui non cessat Matrem honorare in terns qwamuis de- 
uotissimii^ ^ uicarius Maoris sui magwiri prudentissimiw 
tamen maturity et catholice in hac parte procedere nolens, 
quam plures dominos cardinales ad se uocauit, et inito con- 
silio supplicationeqii^ dicti Cancellarii, hie inde uentilata 
tandem diuina dementia honorem Mo^is in salutem et 
consolacionera X/>i5tianorum uerisimilifer reuelante ac 
Virgine gloriosa in corde uioarii filii sui inspirante, cui 
plane interest pro tempore et loco cultum diuinum 
corrigere, modificare, tollerare, augmentare, et de nouo 
instituere, celebrandi deinceps publico soUempnitatem 
Presentationis Beate Marie in Templo a fidelibus pie, 
sancte, et digne tollerantiam sen permissionewi miseri- 
corditer concessit; et tacisi est solempnitaa Prc^cntattonis 
Beate Marie cUm officio suo proprio sepetacto in Curia 
Romana, Bcatissimo Papa Qregorio toUerante ac in sacro 
palatio suo degente Auinionen^' in eocZesia Fratrum 
Minoruw, uidelicet die domtnica xxi die mensis Nouem- 
bris, anno de Natiuitate Domini mccclxxii, indictione 
decima pontificatus Domini No^fri Domini Qregorii Papa 
xi°** anno secundo. 

In uigilia namqtx^ ip«ius dominice Vespere sollemnes, 
et de nocte Matutino de officio prelibato per Fra/res Mi- 
Tiores celebrate iuerunt Et dominica pretacta Missa 
solempnis et pontificalis in dicfa ecc?esia Beati Francisci 

*Thi8 word is repeated. 

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DB^lMATIC office fob the PBESBlSrTATION 196 

celebrata f uit per Reuerendum Poirem Domtnum Epwco- 
pum CoTtonensem Romanum, magwtrum in sacra pagina 
solempnem de Ordine Predicatorum^ cum sennone eius- 
dem solennitatis ad deniin in Missa et predicattone 
uulgari in Vesperis Secundis ad populism laudabiliter 
factis per Fratrem Franciscum de Fabrica, ministrum 
Assissii, solewpnem doctorem in theologia.^ Verump- 
tamen ad honorandam prelibatam solennitatem Beate 
Marie in Missa interfuerwnt deuoti Virginia Eeueren- 
dissimi in Xpisto Yatres et Dotnini ^ Cardinales inf ra- 
scripti, uidelicet Domintw Anglicus Albanen^w Epwcopw^ 
Cardinalis, frater quondam sancte memorie TJrbani Pape 
Quinti, Domimis Petn« Pampilonen^w iituli Sancfe 
Anastasie 'Presbyter Cardinalis et Vicecancellarius Eccfe- 
sie Romane, Dominic Guilielmus iituli Sancfi dementis 
Treshyter Cardinalis, consanguineii^ germanw^ Domtni 
Norfri Pope, DominiLS Florentinti* iituli Sancfi Laurentii 
in Damasco 'Preshyter Cardinalis, Dominus Johannes 
Lemouicenws iiiidi Sanctorum Nerey et Achilley Pres- 
hyter Cardinalis, consanguineiw Domini No^ri Pape, 
Domintis Bertrandits Glandaten^ tiiuii Sancte Prisce 
Preshyter Cardinalis, Domiima lohannes de Turre iituli 
Sancti Laurentii in Lucina Preshyter Cardinalis, Domi- 
nus Hugo Sancti Martialis iituli Sancfe Marie in Porticu, 
Dyaconiw Cardinalis^ et Dominws Petrus de Baren^onio* 
iituli Sancte Marie in Via Lata Djsicoxms Cardinalis. 

' A tick at this point refers to the following, written in the upper 
margin in a hand of the 17th or 18th century: Ad augmenta^tonem 
uero dictae soleni^atw assistentes in dicto officio recitando, item 
8anctt99imu« Papa Gregorius omnibus qtii interfuerunt ad dictam 
Bolemnitatem tree annoB et tres quadragenas de indulgentiis miseri* 
corditer concessit. 

'This word is repeated in the manuscript. 

'I have no confidence in this expansion. 

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Fuenint insuper alii domtni et prelati ecclerie, Dominies 
Pa^riarcha Gradenm, prothonotarii, archiepwcopi, epw- 
copiy abbates, msLgistri sacri palacii, et alii magisfri in 
theologia diuersarum religionum regentes in sacra pagina, 
doctores soUennes utriyxsque juris, ac catholicus populus 
utnusqite sexus, quorum non erat numerus, omnes congre- 
gati in laudem nouam Virginis Marie gloriose saciati 
jpleramque nouo epinhiali cibo a Virgine exquisite et 
preparato finaliter in uitam etemam. 

Nee mirum, Pafres et Fratres kamsimi, quia pler- 
umqwe in ista sancia solempnitate, misterio non carente, 
mens deuota contemplando quintuplici cibo refici potest 
et saciari. Prtmus namque cibus dici potest quedam 
translatio Marie sanctificate, ymmo sancfissime, trium 
annorum de domo pa^ris camalis ad domum etemi Dei 
Patris, de tenebris cellule parentum ad ostensionem populi 
Israel et aulam Eegis uiuentium. Si igitur eccte^a 
sanctsL de translattone ossium mortuorum, tantam oele- 
britatem facit, quid fiendum est de translatione Marie 
beatissime domus pateme ad Domini Templum? Secuft- 
dus uero cibus ymaginari -potest oculo mentali, uidelicet 
matura ascensio Marie quindecim graduum, de quibus 
non immerito ecclesia, quindecim psalmos graduales in 
memoriam ascensionis prelibate sibi assumpsit. Ac sancti 
laudatores Virginis in suis carminibus <fol. 5'^> quin- 
decim gaudia Virginis Marie deuotius recitarunt Tercius 
autcm cibus, et in soUennitate no^fra principalis, est ip«a 
Presentatio Beate Marie in Templo ad Deum Patrem. 
Congruum nempe et conueniens erat, ut ilia que ab initio 
et BJite secula ordinata erat ad concipiendum et portandum 
in utero pretium humane redemptionis, Deum et homi- 
nem, in templo Deo pres^ntaretur, ibique a Spinfu Soncfo 
de diuinis instrueretur et a conuersacione et contubemio 

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mundanorum totaliter abstraheretur. DeleotabUis est 
oerte cibus iste contemplantibus prcporationem redempti- 
onis nostre in Maria. Sed quartus cibus uirgines et 
mentes castas inebriare debet, Maria plerumqwe pre«eiitata 
in templo summo pontifici et reducta in oontubemio uirgi- 
nnm, expectans redemptionem Israel, contra morem 
hnmannm a Sptriiu Saneto edocta in templo prima 
uii^nitate, nouit quod tantum Deo placuit, ut Mater 
Filii Dei fieret et uirgimtatem non amitteret Quintus 
-plernmque cibus mentem deuotam ab omni corpore rele- 
uare certe debet contemplando totam uitam Marie, singu- 
iares actus, et uirtutes ip^us a pre^entatione ip^us in 
templo usqi^ ad annum tredecimum uel quartumdecimum 
sanctissima uita sua continiio ibidem in templo relucente. 
Quis enim plene oontemplari ualet diuinam illam dispen- 
sationem at^ix^ nouitatem, in qua Virgo regia seni Joseph 
nuptui traditur, florente uirga loseph approbante et 
ludaico popwlo admirante ? 

Omnia etenim ista misteria et preparatoria aduentus 
Saluatoris in Mariam in templo subseqtt^nter acta sunt, 
de quibus omnibus sub titulo Pre«cntationis hodie in 
eccleria Dei mens deuota sabbatizando in corde iubilat. 
Igitur sanc^i pafres non sine magno misterio solennitatem 
istam gloriosam nee immerito ad laudem Dei et Virginis 
instituerunt, in qua nobw praponuntur tot misteria prin- 
cipia et fundamenta humane redempttonis norfre, que 
omnia in carmiTwbus officii prelibate Pre^entacionis ue^re 
deuocioni lucidius apparebunt. 

Istam modicam epwfolam incomporitam ac sine sale 
conditam, cum deuotissimo officio Pre^entationis Marie in 
Templo, Pafres et Domini catholici occidentales, meridio- 
nales, et septentrtonales, memoratus Cancellarius uermi- 
culus uester et zelator abortiuus deuotioni U6^e mitti 

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decreuit, ad excitandum corda fidelium maxime deuotorum 
Eegine Celi, necnon ad recensendum iprius laudes dignis- 
simas, non ut inde uentnm humane laudis acqwirat, ip«a 
intemerata Virgine teste, sed ut ip«a inspirante et Filio 
suo consumante, sequentibus signis in cordibus ue^tris 
tanta solennitas non lateat, et quandoque in consistorio 
contemplactonis ue^tre solennitatis noue in Mariam rapti 
et affecti per grofiam pro anima uestri uermiculi ue^^ra 
deuocio quandoque apud ip^am intcrcedere dignetur humi- 
liter exorat, ut etiam multiplicatis intercessoribus latas 
flentencias irati summi ludicis per intercessionem Beate 
Marie semper Virginis Xpisti^m norfri euadere mere- 
antur, et ad illam beatissimam uisionem, cuius, Becundum 
Augustinum, cemere finis est, peruenire ualeant Quod 
nobis concedere dignetur fructits Marie benedicfus qui 
uiuit, regnat, et inperat per infimta secula seeulorum. 

According to the testimony of Philippe de Mezieres, 
then, the Festum Praesentationis B. V. M. had been cele- 
brated '^ temporibus antiquis " by the Eastern Church on 
November 21, and was still observed, in his own time, in 
the kingdom of Cyprus by a special office. It appears, 
moreover, that in Venice, several years before (pluribus 
annis elapsis),^ Philippe himself had brought about a 
solemn observance of this feast, in which prominence was 
given to some sort of dramatic office (cum representatione 
figurata). Pope Gregory XI cordially approved of the 
new feast, took from Mezieres' hand the book containing 
the Offtdum Proprium (libellum officii), and after exam- 
ining the document himself, submitted it to a learned body 

^Ooncerning M^ftres' visits to Venioe see Jorga, pp. 236-244, 

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of ecclesiastics for their approval. With the approbation 
of all, the Pope committed the arrangements to Mezieres, 
and the feast was given its first official celebration in the 
Western Church on November 21, 1372, in the church 
of the Franciscans at Avignon.* 


To students of mediseval drama, however, the chief 
interest of the establishment of the Festum Prsesentationis 
BeatsB Virginia Marise in the West attaches to the dramatic 
office mentioned in Mezieres' pious letter, — the *^ represen- 
tatio figurata " which he had brought forward as part of 
the observance of the feast in Venice. That this dramatic 
office was given a prominent place also in the papal obser- 

^For statements as to the introduction of the feast at Avignon, 
based upon M^^res' letter, see Hiatoire Universitatis Paristenia 
. . . autore Caesare Egassio Bulaeo, t. iv, Paris, 1668, p. 441; 
Benedicti XIV Opera, Vol. x, p. 634; Acta Sanctorum . . . editio 
nomeaima, ourante Joanne Carnandet. Propylaeum ad septem totnua 
Majif Parisiis et Romae, 1868, Paralipomena addendorum, nPutan^ 
dorum, aut corrigendorum in conatu Chronico-Hiatorioo ad oatalo- 
gum Romanorum PontifUsum, p. 108, col. 2. With the further history 
of the feast we are not concerned here. See Benedicti XIY Opera, 
t. X, pp. 535-536; S. Bftumer, Hiatoire du Br^viaire (trans, by R. 
Biron), Vol. n, Paris, 1906, pp. ^72, 110, 252, 275, 380, 386; Gu6r- 
anger, Vol. vi, pp. 346 ff.; Kellner, p. 266. 

The letter of Charles V, of Nov. 10^ 1374, to the College of 
Navarre at Paris, urging the yearly calibration of the feast, is 
an important document concerning the history of the Festum Prae- 
sentationis in the West. Charles' letter, however, gives no important 
details as to the nature of the celebration itself. The letter is 
found in Joannia Launoii Oonatantienaia Pariaienaia Theologi Regit 
Tfavarrae Oytnnaaii Pariaienaia Hiatoria, Pars Prima, Parisiis, 1677, 
pp. 77-79. Cf. Benedicti XIV Opera, t, x, p. 634; G. Moroni, Dizio- 
nario di Erudizione Storioo-Eooleaiaatica, Vol. 66, Venezia, 1862, 
p. 171 ; J.-B.JB. Pascal, Originea et Raiaon de la Liturgie Oatholique, 
Paris, 1844, col. 1038. 

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vances at Avignon, is indicated by the following note, 
or " recommendatio," found in the manuscript before us : ^ 

Item pro refricacione consolacionis deuotorum Beatis- 
«ime. Virginis Marie qui sepe tactam eoiemprntatem 
Presentacionis ip^ius Vtrginis in templo denote celebrar- 
unt et in futuruwi iubilando celebrabunt. 

ISTotandum est quod Anno Domini mille^mo trecen- 
tesimo octogesimo quinto in ciuitate Auinionensi, superius 
tacto 'Philippo de Maseriis, regni Cipri cancellario, 
personaliter procurante apud Dominum. No^rum Summum 
Pontifioem Clementem Septimum, ipso summo pontifice 
non sine deuottone et reuerencia ip^ius Matris Dei non 
solum permittente sed denote ordinante pretacta solempni- 
tas Presentacionis iprius Vtrginis a parentibus in templo 
xxj die Nouembris anni pretacti in eccferia Fratrum 
Heremitarum Beati Augustini Auinioni deuotissime ac 
solempnifer celebrata fuit cum misea pontificali, utiqt^e 
presentibus naque ad finem misse xviij. cardinalibus archi- 
epwopis epwcopis cum uniuersali dero ip^ius ciuitatis 
Auenionen«w totoqtie populo utriusqtie sexus. In qua qui- 
dem missa solempni, ad laudem Virginis deuoctonemqti^ 
suorum deuotorum, facta fuit quedam representacio .xv. 
iuuencularum uirginum trium aut quatuor annorum, 
quarum una formosior representabat Mariam associatam 
a dtctis uirginibus, et sic uariis indutis cum processione 
deuotissima cum loachim et Anna figuratis et angelis 
precedentibus Virginem ac sequentibus, ducta fuit cum 
instrumentis musicorum ad altare, ibiqtte uelox ascendit 
XV. gradus ligneos tendentes ad altare et presentata a 

*Tlii3 note is found in Bibl. Nat. ics. lat. 17330, fol. 17v. The 
note is written in a hand of the early 15th century, a hand seen 
nowhere else in the manuscript. 

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parentibus fuit figuraliter, et deuote accepta a summo 
sacerdote legis Uefteri<8> Testamenti induto habitu 
summorum pontificum ludeontm. Qua presentata ad 
altare cum laudibiw et canninibus dauiticis alta uoce per 
angelos loachim et Annam et ip^am Mariam recitatis^ 
reducta est in medio chori et cardinalium in loco emi- 
nentiori, ut tactum est, associata, ibiqti^ expectauit naque 
ad finem misse celebrate, in qua quidem miasa hora 
ofFertorii de sancfa solempnitate Presentacionis Marie in 
templo predicauit ad domtnos oardinales et ad clerum 
reuerendus et in scienfta admirabilis magirfcr lohannes 
de Basilia, solempnissimiw doctor in theologia Theothoni- 
cus nactone ac generalis ordinis Fratrum Heremitarum 
Beati Augustini, qui quidcwi generalis de mandato uiue 
uocis Domini No«tri Summi Pontificis, fecit sermonem 
nee habuit spacium prouidendi sermonem pretactum nisi 
tres dies nee completes et tamen ad oonfirmandum cor 
delictum transformatum per graftam in amorem Vtrginis, 
ut uidelicet tanta solempnitas non lateat quin ymo a 
fidelibus, ubiqt^e terrarum deinoeps celebretur, ip«a uirgine 
uirginum in animam iprius generalis nurabilifer inspirante 
sequentibiw signis toto clero et dominis cardinalibus pu6- 
Uce atestantibus quasi una uoce omnes dicebant quod 
numquam temporibus ip^orum pulcriorem sermonem de 
Beata Virgine audiuerant in Curia Romana. Deniqtxe 
ip^e Domintis 'Soster Papa Clemens Septimtx*, deuocione 
Virginis Marie eiusqt^e deuota solempnitefe acoensus, in 
pretacto diuino officio et festiuitate omnilm« existentibi/5 
tres annos et tres quadragenas indulgenciarum misericop- 
diter concessit, et qui audiuit et narrata uidit teetimoniiim 
perhibuit, et uerum est testimonium eius ad kudem 
MaWs Dei Filiigwe eius benedicti, qui est henedictuE in 
secula seculorum. 

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202 KABL Yomsra 

From this note it appears, then, that the Mass of the 
Presentation at Avignon, in 1385, included a dramatic per- 
formance in which figured personages representing Mary, 
fourteen other young maidens, Joseph, Anna, and a nimi- 
ber of angels. To the accompaniment of music Mary was 
led to the altar, where she quickly ascended fifteen wooden 
steps, was presented to an ecclesiastic vested as a Jewish 
high priest, and was lauded with the singing of psalms. 
Although we cannot be sure that the dramatic oflBice re- 
feired to by Mezieres as having been performed at Venice 
was identical with the dramatic office described above as 
part of the observance at Avignon, we do know, at least, 
that the " recommendatio " describes with almost perfect 
accuracy the " repraesentatio figurata " that follows it 
immediately in the manuscript. And if the " recommen- 
datio " leads us to expect a particularly noteworthy 
dramatic document, — even " un document des plus pre- 
cieux pour I'histoire de la mise en scene," — our expecta- 
tions are not to be disappointed. 

< Repraesentatio Figubata in Festo Peaesenta- 
TiONis Beatae Virginis Marle in Tempi.o> ^ 

< fol. 18' > Quibusdam deuotis personis Matris 
illius qui dat sapfen^iam sapientibus et scientiam intelli- 
ge?itibus disciplinam^ qui reuelat profunda et abscondita 
et nouit in tenebris constituta, cum quo lux est reuelans 
misteria que uentura sunt, a quo omne donum optimum 
et perfectum descendit, reuelare placuit ut xxj. die 
Nouembris pro comme?noracione diei illius quo eius etemi 
uerbi Mater per camales parentes in templo domini extitit 
presentata, ut sibi cui seruire regnare est in pcrpetuum 

'Biblioth^ue Nationale, us. latin 17330, fol. 18r.24r. 

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assisteret, immaculata secundum eorum uota aliquam ^ 
ordinaueruM solempnitatem cum repre^entattonibus qui- 
busdam deuotissimis uerbis nouisque actibus et signis 
omatis ex quibus omnibus in Xpisto credentihus declara- 
rent quod per banc humiZissime Uirginis pre^entactonem 
in templo omnia catholica fundamenta inoepta sunt, ex 
quibus etiam a carne mens agrauata tsiim]uam 'per uisibilia 
signa et opera sect^ndum apo^oli doctnnam ad cogi^itto- 
nem inuisibilium uisibiliumqiie misteriorum Dei peruenire 
ualerent ut in seqiientibus lucide declaratur. 

Et pnmo de xxij. pcrsonis ac nominibus ipsarum pro 
representatione fienda. 

Secundo de indumentis ip^arum et omamentis diuersis. 

Tercio qaaHter pro reprcsentattonibus omnibus locus 

Quarto de ' processione fienda et ordine iprius. 

Quinto de representatione fienda et laudibus Marie. 

Sexto de Presentations Marie solempni Missa celebranda 
et breui sermone. 

Primo nsimque erit quedam uirgo iuuencula et pul- 
cherima circiter trium aut iiij.^' annorum, que represen- 
tabit Mariam, et cam ea alie due uirgines pulcherime 
eiusdem etatis. Deinde erunt loachim et Anna; ceterum 
erunt duo angeli Gabriel et Raphael. Deinde erunt 
nouem angeli representantes nouem ordines angelon/m. 
Postea erit quedam mulier pulcAerima etatis circiter xx. 
annorum que uocabitur EccZesia et i^presentabit ecclesiam. 
Deinde erit qt^edam mulier pronecte etati«, qt^e uocabitur 
Synagoga et representabit legem Moysi et Uetus Testa- 

* Preceded fay the \vordB: nouisqtte aetifaus, ^ildch are crossed out. 
'This word is repeated in the maniiecript. 

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mentum. Ceterum erunt duo iuuenes cum instrumentiB 
pulsantes. Delude erit Michael archangelus et Lucifer. 
Ultimo erit epi^copus cum dyaoono et subdiacono. 

Dicto de nomintbus personarum pro repre^entattone 
fienda, dicendum est de indumentis et omamerirtis ip^arum. 

Maria uero tunicam hoftebit indutam albissimam de 
cendato, sine aliquo artificio superfluo, cum plicatura 
parua eiusdem tunice exterius appaTiente circa inferiorem 
partem tunice in circulo, et tunica lata erit ubiqt^ ex- 
ceptis manicis, que erunt adiacentes, nee super tumcam 
se cinget. Postea habehit quendam mantellum etiam 
albissimum de cendato aut panno serico, apertum ante in 
longitudinem corporis cum cordula de frizello aureo in 
firmatione mantelli ante pectus secundum forrnam man- 
telli sponsarum et tunc collare tunice et aperturam man- 
telli in longitudine apponetwr paruus frizellus aureus et 
in circulo man < fol 18^ > telli inferius erit etiam plica- 
tura appareTis exterius ipsius mantelli. Capud autem 
Marie nudum erit, et capilli extensi retro super humeros; 
hatebit autem super capud qitemdam circulum aureum 
de argento deaarato in latitudine modici digiti cum dia- 
demate rafionabilis latitudtnis de argento deaurato subtili 
firmato in circulo in posteriori parte capitis. Hoc erit 
omamentum capitis Marie, nee anulos nee zonam nee ali- 
quid aliud super se hafeebit nisi album et aureum, puri- 
tatem et uirginitatem Marie demonstran^ et caritatis 
claritatem ipsius. 

Due autem uirgines associantes Mariam; una induiettir 
de cerico seu cendato uiridi, figurante humilitatem Marie, 
et alia de colore blauio seu celestino, fidem et spem Marie 
figurante; nam secundum Si^ostdlun^ conuersatio nostra^ 
sed potiws Marie in cells est. Iste due uirgines man- 

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tellum non portabunt sicut Maria, sed tunicas latas ha6e- 
bunt cum plicatura inferiori, ut supra dictum est; nee 
etiam omentur super tunicas. Super capud uero nudum 
portabunt unum circulum de argento sine diademate in 
latitudine ^rius dedarata; et capilli extensi retro, ut 
supra de Maria. 

loachim uero pater Marie induetur alba saoerdotis de- 
super cinctus uelud sacerdos cum siola ad coUutn^ et ante 
pectus in cruce prooedente ut sacerdos, et desuper induetur 
quodam pluuiali antique non fracto, et in capite hoiebit 
quoddam uelum subtile et aliqttantulum longum et, si 
inuenietur, aliqualiter laboratum, cum quo inuoluet capud 
et collum et duas extremitates ueli qtu>libet longitudine 
duarum palmarum et modicum plus proiciet super hu- 
meros super pluuiale a dextris et a sinistris ; ho&ebit ante 
prolixam amplam et albam barbam procedentem super 
pectus, et tenebit in manu extra pluuiale unum vas medio- 
cre uitreum pleno uino rubeo. 

Anna uero induetur de lino albo, tam in corpore quam 
in capite ad modum antiquum honeste matrone, et porta- 
bit in manu unum pannum rotundum albissimum et aatis 

Duo autem angeli induti erunt Gabriel et Baphael cum 
amictibt^ albis cincti desuper cum stola ad collum et in 
cruce an/e pectus. Super capud uero portabunt quasdam 
barretas adiacentes in capite super aures, et in circulo 
capitis desuper haftebunt formam tnangularem aut qua- 
drangularem non nimis latas, cum dualni^ fanis retro 
uelud in mitra episcopi. Et erunt iste barrete de cendato 
albo seu panno serioeo aut de papiro seu de pergamenfo 
cum quodam frizello in circulo barreti de pictura aliqua 
et floribus seminatis picture super barretam, et qui uolu- 
erit potent ponere in circulo barretarum poruas fringias 

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206 KABL Youira 

de oerico diuersi ooloris, Hofeebunt etiam duo angeli 
quilibet duas alas, et portabunt in manu dextra quilibet 
imam uirgam rubeam. 

Nouem angeli induentur sicut Gabriel et Raphael, ex- 
cepto quod trea qui representabunt supcrioriorem ordinem 
angelorum sic : cherubim et cetera, ha&ebuni; barretas suas 
rubeas de pictura, ut dictum; tres nero secundi ordmis 
angelon/m ho&ebunt barretas blauias seu cele<fol. 19^> 
stini colons; et tres tercii ordinis angelorum, albas bar- 
iretas. Haftebunt omnes nouem lilium super quandam 
uirgam subtilem uiridis colons et lilium primi ordtnis 
deauratum erit et lilium sccundi ordtnis celeetini coloris 
et tertium argentei coloris. 

'Ecclesisi nero erit quidem pulcerrimt^ iuuenis circa 
XX. annos sine barba et induetur totum de auro in ho&itu 
diaconi capillis puloerrimis mulieris extensis super hu- 
meros ; et super capud portabit quandsim coronam auream 
cum liliis et lapidibus preciosis. Contra pectt^« uero erit 
firmatit5 cum cordula quidam calix argenteti^ et deaurattx^ 
sine patena, qui calix significabit nouum testamentum ; 
et in manu sinistra portabit quandam crucem longam 
latitudine corporis, et capitis cnius crucis uirga rubea 
erit latitudine poUicis magni, et crux tota deaurata erit 
sine aliquo artificio. In manu uero dextra portabit quod- 
dam pomilm rotundum totuwi deauratum signtficans 
uniuersalem domtnation^m ecclesie. 

Synagoga uero induetur ad modum antiquum uetule 
cum tunica talari inueterata alicuiiw panni simplicw 
coloris, et mantello nigro et rupto. Capud uero ad mo- 
dum uetule omatum de aliquo uelo obscuri coloris, et 
coram oculis et facie hofeebit uelum nigrum, per quod 
tamen possit uidere. In manu uero sinistra portabit 
quoddam uexillum rubeum cuius hasta nigra fracta ap- 

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parebit, uexillo indinato super humeros 8U0B. In quo 
quidem uexillo rubeo scribenttir litere de auro: S. P. Q. 
K, que sunt arma Romanorum. Et in manu dextera 
portabt^ duas tabulas lapideas inclinatas uerBU*^ terram^ 
in quibu^ tabulis lapideis erunt scripte litere quasi litere 
Hebreorum signtficantes legem Moysi et Vetus Testa- 

Duo iuuenes qui pulsabunt instrumenta dulcia induti 
erunt sicut angeli, excepto quod non portabunt stolas 
neqite alas ; sed bene barretas uiridis coloris. 

Deinefe erit Michad archangelus qui armatus erit armis 
puloemmis de pede neque ad capud, et super galeam seu 
baehinetum seu barbutam habebit quandam coronam de- 
auratam in signum militis uictoriosi et in signum X/mti 
triuwphantis. In manu autem dextra * terwbit Michael 
gladium nudum fulgentem et erectum ueraus oelum; et 
in sinistra manu tenebit quandam cathenam ferream, 
cum qua* Lucifer in oollo ligatua retro sequettir 

Lucifer autem ometur tali omamento sicut eidem deoet 
turpissimo et abhominabili cum ooTUubus, dentibti^^ et 
facie horribili. Et cum manu dextra tenebit Lucifer 
quendam trocum seu uncum ferreum portando super 
humerum; et cum sinistra manu tenebit cathenam, quasi 
rebellare uellet Michaeli. 

Qualiter pro Repre^entatione fienda locus ordinetur. 

In eccZe«a namqiie infer portam magnam occidentalem 
et portam chori canonioorum seu frafrum in medio eccZe^e 
aliqtzantulum tamen magis prope portam chori qwam prope 

*The manuscript reads: autem dextra] autem tenebit. 
*1C8. quo. 

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portam oocid^talew, ut ab omnibu* portibus eocZerie 
lucidius uideri poesit^ oonstruetur quoddam edificium de 
lignifl Beu < fol. 19^> staoio in altitudine vi. pedum 
desuper, nero erit tabulatum ad modum solarii, quod qui- 
dem solarium in transuerso eocZe^e sic: de aspectu partis 
eeptentrionalis ad partem australem ho&ebit x. pedes in 
longitudine, et de aspectu partis orientalis ad occidenta- 
lem solarium ho&ebit in IsLtitadine viij. pedes; et contra 
medium solarii uersus portam occidentalem erunt gradus 
tot quot esse poterunt de pauimento ecc^e usqi^e ad 
solarium^ et similiter erunt similes gradus in oppostto 
porte chori, ad descendendum de solario, ita quod quilibet 
gradus in se longitudinem ciroiter trium pedum^ ut mifUi^ 
occupet solarium quam fieri poterit, et isti gradus ab 
utraqt^ parte dausi erunt cum tabulis seu lignis ita quod 
nemo ascendere ualeat nisi cum ordine ad representatio- 
nem faciendam. Desuper uero solarium in uia inter 
utrosqi^ gradus uia plana erit ; sed ad partem septentrto- 
nalem erit quoddam scampnum ad sedendum protefisum 
supra solarium de parte occidentali ad partem orientalem, 
et istud scampnum ita longum erit ut loachim et Anrnj. 
in capitibtts scampni et Maria in medio sedere ualeant; 
ita tam^n quod sedes Marie tamen eleuetwr, ut, sedentibus 
ip^s tribus, capud Marie sedentw in medio in equalitate 
altitudims cum pafre et matre inueniatur. Et inter 
scampnum et exfremitatem solarii uersus partem septen- 
tnonalem dimittetwr spacium pro Gabriele et Raphaele, 
qui ibidem stabunt retro Mariam in pedibue. Ad partem 
autcm australem super solarium ultra uiam graduum 
erunt due sedes ita alte sicut scampnum predicfum, super 
quibus sedebunt loachim et Anna, quarum sedium una 
erit posita ad partem orientalem solarii et alia ad partem 
occidentalem, super quibus sedebunt EccZe«ia et Synagoga 

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rcspicientes Mariam, ita quod Siscendendo gradu8 in so- 
larium ascendens ire possit libere inter EccZe^am et 
Synagogam ad exf remitatem partem solarii uersus partem 
australem. In quatuor uero eomilm^ solarii stabunt in 
pedibus ad comua septentrionalta Gabriel et Raphael, et 
ad comua partis australis etabunt in pedibus duo iuuenes 
pulsatores. Solarium uero in ctrcuitu suo munietur quo- 
dam ligno subtili altitudims a solario duon^m pedum per 
modum appodiattoms, ut dictum solarium magis aptum 
appareat ad repre^entationem fiendam, et ne illi qui super 
solario erunt a solario leuiter cadere possint. Istud so- 
larium, scampnum, et sedes coperientur de tapetis. Fiat 
igitur edificium sen solarium de lignis fortissimis et bene 
ligatis ne propter pressuram populi astantifl aliquomo(2o 
cadere ualeat. 

Insuper inter sedes canonicorum seu fratrum et altare 
mains ad partem septentrionalem contra parietem seu 
pilare in loco eminenti construetwr aliud solarium de 
lignis magnis, tamen paruum uidelicet in altituc?tn€ vij. 
uel viij. pedum. Solarium namqtiam desuper erit qua- 
dratum sex pedum^ in qualibef quadratura et in circulo 
etiam munietur quodam ligno subtili uniw^ pedis altitu- 
dinis a solario. Et cooperietur solarium de tapetis, et 
super tapetum quasi in medio solarii ponetwr paruum 
gcabellum coopertum de aliquo panno pulcro serico cum 
cussino paruo serico ad apodiandam Mariam audiendo 
Missam. Et recte in medio solarii super tapetum ponetur 
cussinw^ maior de serico ad sedendum Mariam et scabellum 
predictum immediate ante Mariam. 

Ordinabitur etiam de aliquo loco prope eccZe«iam, sicut 
de quadam camera per terram sufficienti ^ ad recipiendum 

'MS. sufficipientl. 

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omnes personas pro repre^entatione ordinandas seu in- 
duendas, qui locit^ forte potent esse capifwlum f ratnim, 
clausum tamen an^e cum cortinis de aliqua domo prope 
eccZmam < fol. 20'> ad hoc sufficient, in qua Maria 
no^ra dulcissima cum societate sua parabitur et parata 
et omata ut supra declaratum est expectabit proceesionem. 

De Processione fienda et Ordine iprius. 

Eptscopus namqt/e seu archiepiscoptt^ Missam celebra- 
tunxs indutus pontificalibus cum baculo pastorali, diacono 
et subdiacono precedentibus cum omni clero, sacerdotibus 
indutis pluuialibu^ seu reliquiis de altari maiori, incipiet 
processionem cantando alta uoce: Salue Begina^ et ibit 
processio rects. uia uersus locum ubi Maria erit, semper 
cantando. Et cum tota processio transient locum seu 
csLfitulumy Episcopo immediate transacto, apcrientt^r cor- 
tine seu porta. Et primo exibit unus de ordine angelo- 
vum cum uirga alba in manu sua dextra, quasi ad 
ostendendum et parandum uiam, et sequetur iste angelus 
immediate 'Episcopuia quasi ad duos passus prope eum, 
ita tamen quod nulla persona se interponat inter Epwco- 
pum et angelum; angelus autem sequendo Epwcopum 
proportionaliter cum uirga sua a dextris et a sinistris 
payabit uiam. Et post angelum seqwentur alii octo 
angeli, unus post alteTn^m gradiendo secundum ordinem 
suum, et lerarchiam cherubim et cheraphim retrogradi- 
entibw5 quilibe^ portando in manu sua sinistra lilium 
supra declaratum. Post nouem angelos immediate se- 
quetur Synagoga, capite dimisso, et portando uexillum 
suum et tabulas lapideas, ut supra declaratum est. Et 
post Synagogam sequetur EccZesia formosa cum sua cruce 
calice in pectore et pomo aureo in manu dextra. Post 

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EccZe^am immediate seqaentur duo iuuenes pulsatores 
gradientes insimul et puleantee instrumenta. Poet pulsa- 
tores sequentur duo uirgines gradientes insimul, et ilia 
que induta erit colore uiridi portabit in manu dextra 
Tmam candelam tercie partis libre uiridis ooloris, et alia 
uirgo similem candelam celestini colons. 

Poet duas uirgines immediate sequetur nostm dul- 
cissima Maria portando in manu sua dextra similem 
candelam in pondere albissimam^ tamen et in manu sua 
sinistra portabit quandam columbam albissimam ad pectus 
suum; et ad latus Marie dextrum gradietur Gabriel cum 
uirga sua rubea eleuata ; et ad latus sinistrum Marie simtli 
modo Raphael gradient in equalitate cum Maria reuer- 
enter^ nee minus appropinquantes ad personam Marie sed 
eam semper reepicientes. 

Poet Mariam, Gabrielem^ et Raphaelem gradientur 
simul loachim et Anna respicientes continue Mariam et 
portantes panem et uinum, ut supra declaratum est. 

Et post ip^os ueniet Michael archangelus armattx^ cum 
gladio fulgenti et erecto in manu dextra, et cum sinistra 
per cathenam uniti^ passus ducendo trahet Luciferum 
cachinantem et sliquaado ululantem, et quasi inuitt« 

Maria autem exeunte de capifwlo sen loco ubi ip^a pro- 
cessiones expectabat, subito unus de angelis ponet se inter 
duos pulsatores eundo processionaltter et alta uoce inchoa- 
hit quandam cantilenam per modum rondelli instruments 
pulsantibus de Beatissima Virgine, et hec in uulgari ad 
excitandum papulum ad deuotionem. Et omnes angeli 
cum 'Eedesidy Gabrieli, et Raphaeli, et pulsatoribus 
re^pondebunt Clerus uero qui ante cantabat: Salue 
Regina, quango audiet angelum canentem * tacebit, et 

*ue. canetitum. 

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omnes tacebunt exoeptw angelis qui continue dictuia ron- 
dellum cantabunt, uno inchoante et aliis rcspondentibus 
processionaliter eundo usque ad solarium in medio eoelesie 

Et post Michaelem et Luciferuw gra<fol. 20^>dientur 
nobiles et persone autentice uulgares, et postea populus 
utriusque sexus. Ibit autem * processio per claustrum 
usqi^e ad portam que ducit ad plateam que est ante ualuas 
magnas ecclesie occidentales. In qua quidem platea pro- 
cessio faciet quoddam circulum circumiendo plateam et 
reuertendo ad magnam portam ecclesie gradiendo et can- 
tando ut supra usque ad solarium -predictuia. Et notan- 
dum est quod qt^libef persona de clero eundo processi- 
onaliter portabit unam candelam accensam in manu, et si 
nobiles persone autentice et populus portare uoluerint 
candelas in processione illius noui hominis ex utero postea 
illuminantis uniuersum orbem, ab ipso lumine non dubito 
premiabitur. Cum autem Maria de capitulo cum socie- 
tate sua exibit, erunt ordinati certi homi?ies iuuenes et 
robusti qui hastas lancean/m cum fune in transucrso 
inuice77i ligatas in manibus tenebunt in longituSine ab 
Eptscopo usque ad Luciferum inelusiue, et hoc dxxplici 
ordine gradiendo processionaliter, ut uidelicet Maria cum 
sua societate adomata eundo inter hastas a pressura popwli 
non molestetwr et ho&eat uiam expeditam ; ita tamen quod 
honiines tenentes hastas in manibus in transuerso extra 
hastas uersus populum ab utraqite parte gradientwr susti- 
nendo populum cum hastis ne aliqnis inter duos* ordines 
hastarum intrare ualeat nisi Maria et societas sua, exceptis 
duobi/s trtbus aut quatuor seruientibus aut clientibu^ 

^This word is repeated in the manuscript. 
'MS. duaa. 

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iusticie qui int^r hastas esse poterunt ad sedandum pressu- 
ram populi ne Maria et aocietas sua a populo opprimi 

Intrante autcm processione in eeclesisLtn, eptscopus cum 
clero suo transiet iuxta solarium et ibit ad altare maius, 
ibiqwc in cathedra sua expectabit cum clero representa- 
tionevoL fiendam super solarium, et postea Presentationem 
Marie ad ipsum episcopum fiendam. Et Maria cum 
societate sua inter hastas coram solario conetructo firmiter 
stabit inter solarium et magnam portam eccZesie oociden- 
talem, angelis semper cantantibi/s tantum quod eptscopus 
ad cathedram suam peruenire ualeat et totus populus in 
eccZesiam intrauerit Et nota quod processio ualde mane 
circa solis ortum incipi defteat, quia misterium representa- 
tionis prolixum est et deuotissimum, et dies tunc breues 

De Representatione fienda et Laudilnxs Marie. 

Representatio talis est: Gabriel et Raphael cum Maria 
loachim et Anna et duobtis pulsatoribus pulsantibus et 
preeuntibus ad pedem graduum solarii properabunt, aliis 
angelis, Ecclesia, Synagoga, Michaele, et Lucifero in 
ordine suo firmiter stantibus et expectantibws. Perserui- 
entes autem armorwm sen clientes ascensus graduum 
solarii solicite custodiatwr ne aliqui ascendere presumant 
nisi ad representationem fiendam ordinati. Tunc Gabriel 
primus in solarium ascendet et cum uirga sua uoluendo 
se ad omnem plagam nutu non uerbo omnilms silencium 
inponet cum uirga. Et subito Maria sola sine aduitorio 
aliquo per gradus in solarium hylari facie ascendet, et 
si non poterit portare candelam suam ascendendo, Raphael 
eam candelam portabit et Maria columbam suam coram 

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214 KABL Yoimo 

pectore suo asoendendo portabit, instrumentis pulsantibus. 
Et quando Maria erit super solarium erecta facie uersus 
altare maius, statim Kaphael ascendet et una cum Gabriele 
Mariam ponent in sedem suam superius dedaratam uersus 
eeptentrionalem partem. Et tunc Grabriel et Kaphael 
insimul cum profunda reuerentia adorabunt Mariam et 
ibunt retro ipsam, Gabriel in comu eolarii uersus 
orientem pedibus stando Mariam semper re6pioiendo et 
uirga erecta, et sic Raphael in alio comu solarii retro 
Mariam uirga erecta. Maria autem tenebit cum amba- 
bus manibus columbam in gremio suo ip^am aliqt^ondo 
osculando et ponendo ad pectus suum. Et candela Marie 
ponetur per Raphaelem super unum candelabrum coram 
Maria; et sic ponentur due candele duari^m uirginum 
quando ascense erunt < fol. 21' > in solfurio super duo 
candelabra in ^ualitate candelabri Marie. Tunc ascen- 
dent due uirgines insimul tenentes candelas suas et ponent 
se ad pedes Marie sedendo. Et postea duo pulsatores 
ascendent et ponent se in comubti* solarii uersus australem 
partem^ quilibef in uno comu solarii, respicientes Mariam 
et pulsantes. Statim post ascensionem pulsatorum ascen- 
dent loachim et Anna, et capite modicum inclinato quasi 
reuerendo Mariam^ sedebunt super scampnum superius 
declaratum^ Maria in medio uersa facie uersus partem 
australem, loachim ad sinistram Marie uersus orientem, 
et Anna uersus dextram Marie uersus occidentem sedendo. 
Et statim ascendent Synagoga prime et post eam EccZe^ia, 
et sedebunt super scabella sua pnus declarata sic: Syna- 
goga ad partem orientalem et EccZe^'a ad partem 
occidentalem, respicientes Mariam et tenentes in manibus 
Synagoga uexillum et tabulas et EccZe^a crucem et 
pomum, ut supra declaratum est, et sic remranebit uia 
expedita in solario inter duos gradus inter ascensum 

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solarii occidentalem et deecensum ijmus orientalem inter 
Mariam^ loachim^ et Annam eqasliter eedentes, Gabriele 
et Raphaele retro in oomubus solarii partis septentrionalw 
stantibus et pulsantibus inter Synagogam et EocZe^am, 
pulsatoribii^ retro in comubns solarii partis australis 
stantibus et pulsantibus. 

Nunc autem ueniendo ad laudes Marie prtmo silentio 
inposito per Gbbrielem et Raphaelem cum uirgis suis, 
primw« angelus qui tenebit uirgam albam in manu dextra 
et lilium suum in manu sinistra ascendet in solarium 
uirga erecta; et cum uenerit ante Mariam ponet uirgam 
suam super tapetum et profunde Mariam inclinabit et 
statim ponet se inter Synagogam et EccZe^iam, et pulsatores 
facie erecta uersus Mariam tenentibt/^ instruments et 
omnibus de EccZe^a tenendo lilium erectum in manu 
sinistra et cum m»anu dextra uersus Mariam alta uooe 
quasi cantando incipiet dicere : 

Que est ilia que aaoendit per desertum sicut uirgula 
fumi ex aromatibus mirre et thurie? Estne ilia 
uirga que egredietur de radioe lesse, et flos de radice 
eius ascendit et reqwiescit super eum spiritus Domini, 
e^rittia sapientie et intellecfus, sptrtjus scientie et 
ooncilii, spiritus pietatis et fortitudtnis, et spiritus 
timoris Domtni ? 

Quo dicto pulsabuntur instrumenfa et dictus angelus 
ueniet coram Maria, et inclinando se coram ea accipiet 
uirgam suam et descendet de solario per gradus partis 
orientalis et tenebit se inter gradus et hostium chori, ubi 
erunt iuuenes homines robusti tenentes hastas in transuerso 
dupKci ordine, ut prtus dedaratum est, ad recipiendum 
et angelos et Mariam quando descendent de solario, et 
ibunt per chorum ad altare mains ad pre^entandum 

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Mariam Episcopo. Prime autem angelo descendente de 
solario, pulsantibw^ instrumentis, secundus angelus ascen- 
det in solarium per gradus occidentales, et cum lilio suo 
in manu sinistra profunde Mariam inclinabit et ponet 
se in loco ubi f uerat angelus inter EccZmam, Synagogam^ 
et pulsatores, et simili modo tenendo lilium erectum in 
manu sinistra, et dextram extendendo ad Mariam alta 
uoce dicet: 

Ecce appropinquat gaudium no^rum 

cum manu a dextris et a sinistris uertendo, et reducendo 
ad Mariam dicet: 

Considerate et uidete speciosam uirgiuem, Deo 
placen-tem, claritate refulgentem^ angelos letifican- 
tem, in honestate perseucrantem, et mundum deco- 
rantem. Dies immense leticie et magne exultationis 
omnibus creaturis, quia ecce archa Domini, uasculum 
ditdne sapientie, et consematio naufragantis nature 
que hodie in templo presentatur Deo dedicatur et in 
perpetuum ad honorem omwipotentis Dei obligatur. 

Quo dicto instrumenia pulsentur et angelus inclinet se 
coram Maria et descendat cum primo angelo, stetqwe in 
ordine suo expectando. Tercius autem angelus in loco 
ubi supra dicet: 

. Virgo ascendit in templum et angeli descendunt ad 
earn. Hec ancilla uocatwr et domina erit; humilis 
dicitur et Deum humiliabit; uirginitatem uouet et 
Deum generabit Tu es uirgo, exemplum uirginum, 
mulier decus mulierum, domina regula dominanim, 
benedicia tu quia per te uirgines decorabuntwr, muli- 
eres benedicentur^ et om/ies sancti per te premia- 

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Quartus angelus dicet: 

Ecce uirginitas, ecce humilitas, ecce man^uetudo, 
ecce puritas,^ ecce innocentia, ecce perfecta caritas, 
in qua ha&itabit immensa bonitas, et ecce ilia que 
fiet sponsa, mater, et templum Dei. 

Et notanduw^ est quod omnes angeli in eodem loco dioent 
et cantabunt uersus sues seu camiina et in ascendendo in 
solarium stando cantando inolinando coram Maria, de- 
scendendo de solario et expectarwio inter gradus solarii 
orientales et hostium chori tenehxint ilium ordinem qui 
supcrius declaratti5 est de duobus primis angelis. 

Quintus angelus oantabit dicens: 

O grande edificium in quo sustentabitur humana 
fragilitas, super quod edificabitur uniuersa fidelitas, 
a quo inchoatwr pcrfecia uirgimtas, et in quo termi- 
nabitur immensa bonitas; a te, per te, et in te 
laudabitwr summa diuinitas. 

Sextus angelus cantabit et dicet: 

O admirabilis Domina in conspectu hominum, in 
conspectu angelorum^ et in pre«entia Dei! Quis te 
digne laudabit, quis te digne inuocabit cum in mundo 
sis sine exemplo, et in natura sine macula, et in celo 
eris cum immensa gloria ? 

Septimii5 angelus cantabit et dicet: 

Aue, Domina nostra, aue reparatio humane nature, 
aue mediatrix diuine iusticie et in qua laisericordisi 
Dei ostendetur, quia tu mater et uirgo eris, Deus et 
homo, fides et cor humanum. Certe mirabilis puelle 

*The words, ecce puritas, are repeated in the manuscript. 

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ascendentis asceneio, sed mirabilior sapientia puelle 
operantis, sed mirabilissima destorsio Dei descenden- 
tihus, que sanciis Pofris erit gaudium et omnibiw 
Deum diligentibiw, quia cum ea apud Deum semper 
gaudebimw5 per infinita seauloTum secwla, 

0ctauu5 angelus dicet seu cantabit: 

Aue, Maria grcrfia plena, Dominua tecum et plus 
tecum qiuim in celo. In te hofeitabit assumens de te 
camem ; tecum erit et cum omnibus qui tecum sunt, 
qui te diligunt, qui te honorant; tecum creator erit 
O creatura Dominws, O anciUa sponsus, O admira- 
bilis sponsa, nos te henedicimus, nos te laudamixs, nos 
te adoram^is per infinita seculon^m secula. 

!N'onus angelus cherabin cantabit dicens: 

O inestimabilis amor! O immensa 
dilectio! O infinita caritasl 

* seipsitm cum manu propria orfendendo ; deiade Mariam 
cum manu osf endendo dicet : * 

Ecce ilia cui dabitur precium humane redemptf- 
onis, donum infinite estimationis, et premium summe 
perfeciionis. Hec est ilia Virgo Mater Filii Dei 
humilis que a spirifu sancfo obumbrabitur ancilla 
elec<foL 22''>tis8ima uocabitur, et cum Deo Poire 
in etemum premiabitur. 

Pulsantibus autem instruments et .ix. angelis in ordine 
suo, secundum quern gradiebantur in processione in terra 
expectantibus inter solarium et hostium chori, Anna mater 
Marie surget et stando pedibti* in loco suo instrumentis 

* — ^ underlined in black. 

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taoentibus leuabit ambas mantis snas ad celum cum pane 
in sinistra et uoce grossa mulieris uidue et premecte dioet : 

Audite filii Israel exultantes mecum quia mira- 
bill a Dei narrabo: sterilis foc^a est mater (seip^am 
o«<endendo cum manu),^ et genuit exultationem in 
Israel. Ecce potero offerre munera Domino et n(m 
poterint me prohiftere inimici mei. Domtnt^ Dens 
exereituum factns est memor uerbi sui, et uisitauit 
populum Buum uisitatione sua aanctsu 

Quo dicfo et osculata Maria sedebit in loco suo, ut prius, 
et instrumenfa pulsabumtur modicum. Tunc loachim 
Burget in pedibus Btando in loco suo et similiter leuabit 
mantx^ ad celum cum uino in sinistra, et uertendo se a 
dextris et sinistris cum manibus annuendo grossa uooe 

Gaudete omnes mulieres quia delebitur opprobrium 
ue^trum, et nos omnes homines quia Deus homo ex 
ea nascetur (o^tendendo Mariam cum manu ; deinde 
ad angelos uertendo se).^ Et uos omnes angeli quia 
sedes ue^re reparabuntur. 

IDeinde uertet se ctrcumquaqtie et dicet: 

Et uos omnes creature, quia -per eam decorabimtni. 

Et cum manibus ad celum eleuatis, genuflectando, facie 
ad partem australem sicut sederat, concludet dicens: 

Gaudeamw^ ergo omnes et exultemiw et Pafrem et 
Filium et Spiritum collaudemus. 

*The marks of parenthesis are mine, the words enclosed being 
underlined in black in the manuscript. 
'The marks of parenthesis are mine. 

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Et tunc Burget et osculata Maria sedebit in loco suo sicut 
prtus et pulsabuntwr instrumenta modicum. Tunc surget 
EccJe^a de scabello suo, et stando in pedibus respiciendo 
Mariam cantabit alta uoce dicens : 

Letentur celi et exultet terra, ecce appropinquat 
redewptio nostra, ecce appropinquat congregafio filio- 
Tum Dei. 

^ Et o5<endendo seipsam cum manu dextra tenendo pomum 
aureum dicet:^ 

Ecce noua mater ubertate plena non legis sed 
gracie, non timoris sed amoris, non seruitutis sed 
libertatis, quia ecce ilia uirgo (demonstrando Mari- 
am) ^ que concipiet et pariet filium qui saluum f aciet 
popuhim suum a peccafis eorum. Gloria Patri et 
Filio et Spiritui Sancfo; sicut erat in principio, et 
nunc et semper, et in secwla seculorum. 

^ Et omnes angeli r^spondebunt : ^ 


Et remanebit lEoclesisi in loco suo sedendo super scabel- 
lum suum sicut prius. Et post modicam pulsation^m 
surget Synagoga in pedibus stando in loco suo, facie 
inclinata ad partem sinistram quasi tristis uertet se 
circuTnquaqt^, et quasi flendo cantabit dicens: 

Quis dabit fontem lacrimarum oculis meis ut plo- 
rem miserabilem desolationem meam. Ecce ilia 

' — * underlined in black. 

'The marks of parenthesis are mine, the words enclosed being 
underlined in black. 
■ — ^"underlined in black. 

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(ostendendo Mariam) ^ per quam umificabitMr ilia 
ucritas: Gum \xenerit sanctas eanctorum, cessabit 
unctio nestrai. 

Et tunc subito uenient Gabriel et Raphael, et quasi cum 
indignatione exi)ellenfes Synagogam de solario per gradus 
occidentales, et tunc Synagoga descendendo proiciet uexil- 
lum et tabulas < fol. 22^ > a dextris et « sinistris in 
templo extra solarium, et sic erecta fugiet plorando et 
murmurando extra eccZesiam, nee amplitw apparebit. Et 
Gabriel et Raphael non descendent de solario sedere uer- 
tentur in loco suo et pulsabuntur instrumenta modicum, 
et tan turn quod popixlus quietetwr a risu propter Syna- 
gogam expulsam. Puleando uero instrumenta, Michael 
ascendet solarium et ducet secum Luciferum quasi inui- 
tum incedentem et ululantem, et post inclinationem 
Michaelis ad Mariam ponet se ubi angeli can<tabunt 
carmina sua et Lucifer erit iuxta Michaelem, sed cum 
transibit coram Maria finget se timorosum et trementem 
et dimittet se eadere in faciem suam, et Michael eum 
quasi ui trahet ad locum prius iictum sic: ubi angeli 
dixerint uersus sues, tunc Michael facie uersa ad Mariam 
in altum tenendo gladium fulgentem et in sinistra ten^ndo 
cathenam Luciferi genuflectentis alta uoce dicet: 

Aue, altissima Domtna, cui celi, terra, mare, 
abyssi, et omnes creature obediunt, precipe et iego 
obediam tibi, 

^ et cum puncto gladii o^fendendo Luciferum dicet : * 

Ecoe rebellator Dei, scandalum angelorum, et 
inimicus humane nature. Tu enim a Deo aocepisti 

*The marks of parenthesis are mine, the words enclosed being 
underlined in black. 
• — ^'underlined in black. 

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-potestsLtem conculcandi, repellendi, et cruciandi eum 
ex parte omndpotentw Dei. Tue damnattoni Buppo- 
nifur, tue uoluntati traditur, et sub pedibus tuis 

Et tunc Michael Luciferum sic ligatum et ululantem sub 
pedibus Marie ponet, que ip^um cum pedibus uerberabit, 
ip^umque a se expellet; et statim per Michaelem^ Gabri- 
elem^ et Raphaelem de solario per gradus oocidentales 
proiciatur in terrain, nee amplit^* in festo appareat, et 
pulsabuntur instrumerrfa, Et Michael ponet se ubi erat 
Synagoga, respiciendo semper Mariam. Post modicum 
autem interuallum surget EccZe^ta de loco suo et indi- 
nabit se coram Maria et descendet de solario cum angelis 
stando in ordine suo, et post EccZe^am descendent duo 
pulsatores pulsantes inatTumentsi sua, et immediate post 
ip50s descendent due uirgines portantes in manibiz^ can- 
delas suas. Et Maria cum candela sua in manu statim 
post eas in medio Gabrielis et Kaphaelis modicum tamen 
ante ipsos sine interuallo descendet de solario in societate 
angelorum in ordine suo pritis declarato. Et postea imr 
mediate descendent loachim et Anna, et ultimo Michael 
quasi regens possesmnem. 

Eundo per chorum ad altare mains ubi 'Episcopua ex- 
pectat indutus casula pro missa celebranda cum dyacono 
suo subdyacono, unum a dextris et alium a sinistris erecti 
apodiantes se ad altare uersa facie ad Mariam uenientem. 
Cum autem Michael descenderit de solario cum Maria et 
societate sua inter duos ordines hastarum, erit parata ad 
gradiendum uersus altare, subito duo de angelis alta uoce 
incipient : 

Veni creator spirit-u*. 

Et omnes angeli re^pondebunt: 

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Mentes tuorum uisita, 

totum uersum, et finite uersu, duo angeli iterum incipient : 

Qui paraclitiw, et cetera. 

Et alii re«jpondebunt sicut prius. Et eundo ad altare 
lento gradu complebitur totus hymnus. Quando uero 
Maria inueniet se coram altari, angeli coram altari diui- 
dent se a dextris et sinistris Marie, Maria remanente 
in gradu altaris coram Epwcopo inter loachim et Annam^ 
Gabriele et Raphaele in medio retro Mariam remanenti- 
hue cum uirgis suis quasi custodiendo Mariam, et due 
uirgines a dextris et sinietris. loachim et Anna erecti 
stabunt ; EccZe^a autem ponet se ad dextrum comu altaris, 
uersa facie ad Mariam uel ad populwm. Et sic faciet 
Michael in comu sinistro altaris. Hymno complete duo 
angeli cantaitores incipient: 

^ Emitte sptrifwm tuum et creabuntur.* 
Et alii respondebunt : 

^ Et renouabis f aciem terre.* 

Tunc Epwcopus alta uoce dicet : 

Deus qui corda. 

Et postquam Veni creator incipietur, instrwmenfa am- 
pliiw non pulsabunt. Unwm notandum est, < fol. 23' > 
quod quando Maria cum societate sua peruenerit coram 
altari^ et angeli diuident se, ut dictum est, illi iuuenes 
robusti qui portabun< hastas dupZtci ordine coram altari 
f acient unum magnum quadrangulum de hastis suis in quo 

> — ^underlined in black. ^—^ underlined in black. 

*H8. alteri. 

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quadrangulo Maria et sodetas sua sine pressura erunt, 
nee pcrmittent seruientes armorum quod aliqua persona 
intret nisi sit de societate Maria, ut uidelicet'niisteriuw 
Presentationis Marie ab qmr*ibii« uideri possit sine 

Nunc autem ad Presentationem Beate Marie in temple 
sciendum est quod omnia supra figurata in signis dictis f ac- 
tis et representattonibi^ sati^ lucide declarant ascensionem 
graduum Marie Presentattonemque eius ; et quante utrtutis 
sit apparet in laudibt/^ ip^ius et carminibits sepe replicatis 
et fundamentum catholicum et iocundum nostre redemptt- 
onis et reparationis. Nunc uero ad Presentationem 
Marie que Presentatio letantibus angelicis et Morris Dei 
deuotis exultantibus hodie in eccZesia Dei non immerito 
a fidelibi/5 celebratt^r. Anna uero erecf a cum pane eieliato 
in manu sinistra et cum dextra brachium sihistrum Marie 
tenendo alta uoce dicet : 

Accipe, Domine, f ructum nostrum per te ab etemo 
ordinatum^ a te benedicii^m, per angelum tuum 
annunciatum, mirabilifer conceptum gloriose natum, 
per te gubematum^ et a te in hofcitaoulum tuum 

Tunc loachim ^ erectus manu dextra cum uino eleuata et 
cum sinistra tenendo brachium dextrum Marie eleuatum 
cum candela alta uoce etiam dicet: 

Benediciws Dominws Deus Israel, quia uisitauit 
nos in prole et preparauit redemptionem plebi sue. 
Accipe, Domine, uotum nostrum fructum sterilitatis 
nostre, quia consolatus es senectutem no^am, qui 
mandas salutes lacob, Veni cito et descende in earn, 

'HS. lohaeim. 

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ut prophete tui fideles inuenianfur et genus humannm 
a babilonica seniitute per earn redimatur. 

Quo dicto loachim et Anna capitibti^ in terram inclinatis 
modicum orabunt, Maria in pedibt/^ remanente. Et 
statim surgent et ducent Mariam tenentem candelam et 
oolumbam coram Epwcopo, ip^amque eidem preacntabunt 
genibus flexis^ Tunc 'Episcopv^ alta uoce dioet in perso- 
nam Dei Patris: 

Veni amica mea, ueni columba mea, quia macula 
non est in te. Veni de Lybano electa ab etemo, ut 
te accipiam sponsam dilecto filio meo. 

Et tunc Epwcopiis earn accipiet in ulnis suis, uertendo se 
a dextris et sinistris et faciet ip^am osculari altare et 
deponet earn in terram. loachim uero et Anna offerent 
supra altare panem et uinum osculando altare dimittentes 
Mariam coram altari cum dnahus uirgimlm^^ que etiam 
osculabuntur altare, et descendent cum angelis. Tunc 
Gabriel et Raphael in medio ipsorwm ducent Mariam in 
solarium preparatum inter altare et sedes chori ad partem 
septentrionalem superius declaratum. Et due uirgines 
etiam ascendent in solarium cum Maria, in quo solario 
paruo nullus remanebit nisi Maria cum duabus uirginibw^, 
Gabriele et Raphaele retro Mariam in pedibus cum uirgis 
suis erecfis remanentibus quasi ad custodiam Marie. 
Ante uero scabellum paruum Marie super quo apodiabit 
se audi < fol. 23^ > endo Missam ernnt tria candelabra 
quibus ponentwr candele Marie et uirginum et super 
scabellum erit quidam libellus paruulii^ pulcer, cuiw^ folia 
Maria reuoluet quasi dicendo horas suas, et quandoque 
sedebit super cussinum maiorem, et uirgines prope cam 
super tapetum. In EuangeZto surget Maria et uirgines 
et tenebunt candelas in manibu5^ et tenebit se Maria in 


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Missa mature et deuote, Gkbriele et Raphiele earn instru- 
entihus. Missa namque inoepta Maria coluwbam per- 
mittet euolare. Et notandum quod quando Maria erit 
super istud solarium paruum, loachim^ Anna, EccJ^sia, 
Michael, ix angeli, pulsatoribiw pulsantibiw, quilibef in 
gradu suo angeli primi EccZesia pulsatorilms loachim et 
Anna et Michaele retrogradientibt/^ inclinatis capitibti* 
coram 'Episcopo et altari et postea profunde coram Maria, 
recedent processionaliter instn^men^is pulsantibu^ et ibunt 
ad locum ubi parauerant se et deponent uestimenta sua 
et omamcnta, que omnia omamenta soUicite custodiantwr 
pro representatione anni f uturi. 

Prediotis autem recedentibits a facie Episcopi et Marie, 
Episcopits incipiet Confiteor et cantores chori incipient 
Gaudeamiz^, Officium Pre^entationis, Maria in solario 
remanente usqt^ ad finem Misse, facie uersa ad partem 
australem, et uirgines et duo angeli quaai continue respi- 
cient Mariam. Et si uidebitwr quod possit fieri sermo 
breuis de solempnitate in Missa et quod tempix^ patiatur, 
fiat. Sed quia misteria prolixa f uerit et deuota, arbitrio 
dominorum relinguatur. Ita tamen quod aut in Missa 
aut post prandium tanta solempnitas Regine celi sermone 
sen predicattone nuUo laodo careat. 

Missa autcm fimta, Maria cum angelis suis et uirgini- 
hus de solario descendet, et osculando altare candelam 
suam offeret et uirgines etiam. Et statim aderunt pulsa- 
tores qui receeserunt et ip^is precedentibus et pulsantibtw 
Maria in medio Gabrielw et Raphaelis, uirgimTm* 
recedentibti^, associata multitudine dominarum nobilium 
maxime puellarum et puerorum eexus ntriuoqiie, ad 
domum ubi prandere uelut portabitwr p^r sliquum homy 
nem procere stature seu equitando super palefridum; et 
angeli etiam super duos equos, Maria in medio faci- 

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endo modicum circuitum per ciuitatem si tempus fuerit 

In prandio autem Maria in ha&itu suo in looo subli- 
miori et cathedra regali ponatur associata uirgirubus 
quam plurimis in merwa, GkAriele et Baphaele usqt^ ad 
finem prandii diligentcr Bollicite et cyxm profunda reuer- 
entia seruientibu^, et qui dulcisrimam uirginem Mariam 
feruentit« et ardentiti« seruire poterit et ipwus laudes 
digrussimas recensendo replicare et annunciare ualuerit, 
mihi manum ad intcrro^otionem, exoro, porrigat quia 
ueraciter merita non frustrabitur. Et notandum quod 
carmina de laudibti^ Virgims suprascnpta que p^r angelos 
et personafi alias suproecnptas alta uoce cantabuntur seu 
proferentur deuotissima sunt ac certe lacnmabilia pre 
deuottone maxitne fidelibt/^ gramaticam intalligentibus ; 
sed quia uulgaris populus gramaticam non intelligit, si 
uidebitur expediens et nostrn, Maria dulcissima in cordi- 
hu8 deuotorum suorwrn per grofiam inspirauerit, tranela- 
tari poterunt sepetacta carmina in uulgari dictamine et 
uulgariter simili modo dictari poterunt. Istud relinquo 
fiendum \xel non fiendum deuotis intemcrate Virginia 
pre^entem repre^entattonem pie legentibus. Istam autem 
mlempnitdtem Pre^cntattonis Beate Marie Virgims in 
Templo nouiter choruscantem de partibti^ orientalibti^ ad 
partes occwfontales, quomotfo Beata Virgo uoluit ip^am 
solempnitatem in diciis partibti* celebrari debere quomoio 
fuit celebrata in Ytalia, et postea in Curia Romana, per 
quern et quante utrtutis et deuotionis ip«a solempnitas 
existat in epirfola de Tresentatione Marie in Templo et 
nouitate eius ad partes occirfentales legenti lucidii/^ <fol. 
24' > apparebit, que quidem eptrfola ante principium 
Officii Pre^entationis pont debet; xmde deuoto Marie le- 
genti epw^olam, officium, et presentem repre^entattonem 

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228 KASL Youiro 

humiliter exoro ut in tanta deuotione noua Virginia pro 
anima mea misera apud ip^am Imperatncem celi empjrei 
et anchoram spei mee intercedere dignetur. Amen* 

The setting of the elaborate action described in this text 
may be elucidated by the diagram on the page opposite, 
which outlines the ground-plan of a typical church, and 
shows the location of the platforms and the disposition of 
the personages.^ 

A:=: Anna, 
BB = choir-stalls (sedes canonicorum). 
C = main platform (quoddam edificium de 

D = smaller platform (aliud solarium). 
E = Ecdesia. 
G = Gabriel. 
' I = Ioachim. 
M = Maria. 
PP = Pulsatores. 
E = Raphael. 
S = Synagoga. 
The broken line indicates the path of the procession 
from the chapter-house into the nave of the churcL 

The significance of this diagram will appear in the 
course of a brief summary of the text now before us. 

The document provides us, in the first place, with a 
list of the names and a description of the costumes of 
twenty-two personages, or actors, representing Mary, two 

^ It is understood, of course, that the drawing is merely schematic. 
The dimensions of the platform are obviously out of proportion to 
the dimensions of the church itself. 

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Rzrs orieatalis 





Fhcs occidenlali3 




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small maidens, Joseph, Anna, Gabriel, Raphael, nine 
angels, Ecclesia, Synagoga, two musicians, Michael, and 
Lucifer. The accurate details regarding costume leave 
us no doubt as to the appearance of these characters, — ^who 
are, to be sure, sufficiently conventional. Noteworthy, 
however, are the symbols of Ecclesia and the splendid 
dignity of Michael leading the imwilling Lucifer by an 
iron chain. 

Still more exact are the data regarding the dimensions 
and arrangements of the two platforms, or stages. The 
larger of the two stages, erected in the nave of the church, 
is rectangular, measuring ten feet from north to south, 
and eight feet from east to west, and stands six feet high. 
This stage is approached on the east and west by steps 
three feet long, and is provided with a light railing, two 
feet high, extending round the top. Upon the stage a 
bench, extending from east to west, provides a seat for 
Mary in the middle and seats for Joseph and Anna on 
the child's left and right respectively. Opposite Joseph 
is placed a stool for Synagoga, and opposite Anna, one for 
Ecclesia. On the northeast comer Gabriel will stand, on 
the northwest, Baphael, and on the other two comers, the 
musicians. The platform and the seats are covered with 

The smaller stage is erected against the north wall of 
the choir, between the choir-stalls and the main altar. It 
is seven or eight feet high and six feet square, and is pro- 
vided with a railing one foot high. This platform is 
furnished with a seat for Mary, and with a cushion upon 
which she may kneel during Mass. 

These two stages are the goal of the procession and the 
setting of the main action. 

Although certain details in connection with the pro- 

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cession are not entirely dear, the general procedure is 
easily followed. After the vesting and costuming of the 
personages in the chapter^house beside the church, the 
procession moves in a stately course through the cloister 
to the west portal of the church, and enters the nave. 
The order of the personages in the procession is as follows: 
the clergy, the deacon and subdeacon, the bishop, the nine 
angels, Synagoga, Ecclesia, the two musicians, the two 
maidens, Mary, Gabriel (on Mary's right), Baphael (on 
Mary's left), Joseph and Anna, Michael, Lucifer, and a 
company of approved laymen. The procession advances 
with singing, protected on either side by a line of able 
bodied men carrying spears. 

When the procession has entered the church, the bishop 
proceeds promptly down the nave, past the main stage, to 
his cathedra beside the altar, presumably on the south 
side of the choir. Then the chief personages of the action 
ascend the steps of the main stage and take their places 
as already indicated. With a gladsome countenance Mary 
mounts the steps unaccompanied, carrying her dove dose 
to her bosom with one hand, and, if possible, her candle 
in the other hand. After all have arranged themselves 
on the stage in due order, and after the lights have been 
put in place before Mary, everything is ready for the 
Laudes Marias. 

The laudes are delivered with the greatest precision. 
Each of the nine angels in turn ascends the w^est steps of 
the stage, makes obeisance before Mary, utters a verse of 
praise, and descends by the east steps to the pavement 
between the stage and the door of the choir. Then Anna, 
Joseph, and Ecclesia offer their praise, one at a time. 
Synagoga, however, after a tearful lament is pushed down 
the west steps of the stage by Gabriel and Raphael, lets 

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232 KASL Youisro 

fall her banner and the tables of the Old Law, and flees 
crying from the church. After the laughter of the people 
has subsided (populus quietetur a risu),^ Michael ascends 
the platform leading the howling and unwilling Lucifer 
(inuitum incedentem et ululantem). After Michael has 
delivered his verse of praise, and has humbled Lucifer 
to the extent of making him Mary's footstool, Michael, 
Gabriel, and Raphael unite in thrusting the " rebellator 
Dei " to the ground by way of the west steps. 

The principal personages now group themselves in pro- 
cession once more, and, during the singing of a hymn, pass 
from the main stage through the choir to the main altar. 
Here Joseph and Anna, with suitable words and action, 
deliver Mary into the arms of the bishop,* representing 
by this act the Praesentatio Beatae Virginis Mariae in 
Templo. Mary is presently set upon the pavement again 
and led by Gabriel and Baphael to the smaller stage, 
already mentioned, set against the north wall of the choir 
between the choir stalls and the high altar. Upon this 
stage Mary remains during Mass. At the beginning of 
the office she lets her dove fly away, and to each part of 
the Mass she gives reverent attention. At the end of the 
office Mary descends from the platform, kisses the altar, 
and offers her candle. With the carrying of Mary from 
the church, in the arms of a strong man or upon a palfrey, 
the dramatic office is concluded. 

One would like to know more of the genesis and the 
literary antecedents of the dramatic text before us. 
Although in his Epistola Phillipe de M&iSres speaks of 

* The comedy attached to Synagoga and Lucifer deserves emphasis. 

■According to the note, or ** recommendatio " printed above, the 
bishop wears the vestments of a Jewish high priest (habitu sununo- 
rum pontificum ludeorum). See above, p. 201. 

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the assiduous observance of the Festum Fraesentationes 
in the East, and especially in the Isle of Cyprus,* I have 
no ground for surmising that our dramatic text was a part 
of the office used in the East,^ or in the " officium totum 
proprium'^ used in Cyprus.* It seems most probable 
that Mezieres himself added the dramatic procession at 
the time when he arranged a celebration of the feast ^^ cum 
representatione figurata" at Venice, presumably about 
the year 1370.^ It is not impossible, to be sure, th^t the 
dramatic office as we have it should have been one of the 
changes or additions^ made at the time of the papal 
celebration at Avignon, on November 21, 1372. 

Manifestly the text in hand is an important document 

^See the passage: Temporibus . . . musioe notatum, quoted above, 
p. 184. 

*Had there been a dramatic office for the feast at Gonstantiiiople 
it might have been mentioned in Chorgku Oodimu Ouropalata de 
OfficHB Magnae Booletiae ei Aulas Oon$ianiinopoUianae, Parisiis, 
1648, cap. XV, | vi, p. 113, where the celebration of the Festum 
Praesentationis is recorded. 

'Concerning the officia propria of Qyprus I have no information 
at all. 

*In M^ftres' EpUtola printed above we read: . . . dictam so- 
lempnitatem iam pluribus annis elapsis in aliquibus partibus Ytalie, 
uidelicet in preclara oiuitate Venetiarum, aUquibus eleotis denote 
Yirginis ipsius ciuitatis adiuuantibus, solempniter celebrari fecit 
eum representatione flgorata. Concerning M^fires' soujoum in 
Venice in 1370, see Jorga, pp. 402-404. I find nothing in regard to 
the play in Vita del Olario»o Ban Oiovanni apoatolo ed evangeliata 
con aloimi miraooH deUa Bantiaaima Orooe . . . , Venezia, 1762, pp. 
iff., or in Notieie atoriohe delle ch4e$e e montuieri di Venezia, e di 
Toroello . . . illuetrate da Flaminio Comer, Padova, 1758, pp. 371- 
S76. Each of these worlcs mentions certain events connected with 
M^ftres' soujoum in Venice in 1370. 

*See M^tees' Bpiatola printed above: . . . Bertrandus Glanda* 
tensis . . . aliqiut propria manu correxit . . . pro tempore et loco 
oultum diuinum corrigere, modificare, tollerare, augmentare, et de 
Bouo instituere. See above, pp. 193-194. 

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for tbe history of mise en schne. In few dramatic texts 
of the middle ages do we find so elaborate an array of 
rubrics, or stage-directions. Costume, setting, text, and 
action are described with a definiteness thait should satisfy 
even a modem stage-manager. The details of the descrip- 
tion demonstrate, moreover, that we are dealing with no 
mere dramatic office, but rather, with a true play. The 
story is completely presented in the form of action, and 
the characters concerned in tbe action are frankly, even 
elaborately, impersonated. The close attachment of the 
play to the Mass fixes it firmly within the domain of 
liturgical drama, and within that domain it stands unique. 
That this text should stand thus alone is explained, no 
doubt, by the fact that the Feast of the Presentation 
reached Western Europe at so late a date. The formative 
period of liturgical drama had passed before the time of 
Philippe de MeziSres^ eventful visit to the papal court at 
Avignon. It appears, then, that for the development and 
modification of this theme in the drama of the West we 
must look to the dramatic literature in the vernacular 
outside the churcL 

Kabl Yottsq. 

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Meeting of the Modern Language 
Association op Amebica^ 


College op the City op New Yobk, N. Y., 

AND at 

Washington Univebsity, St. Louis, Mo., 

Decembeb 28, 29, 30, 1910. 

Digitized by 


Digitized by 




The twenty-eighth aimxial meetmg of the MoDSBif 
Languagb Abbooiation of AicsBioA was held at the 
College of the City of New York, N. Y., December 28, 
29, 30, in accordance with the folloing invitation: 

Thk Oollbqb ot thx Oitt or Niw Tobk. 

OfFIOB of thx PBX8n>KNT. 

Deoember Hih, 1909. 
Jfy dear Profaaor EovDO/rd: 

I beg to support on behalf of The OoUege of the City of New 
York the inyitation which will go to you through Professor Mott 
asking the Modem Language Association to hold its meeting in 
December, 1910, under our roof. We have here a new equipment 
that will, I think, be of interest to teachers generally, and room 
for the acoommodation of all your members. Tou will receive most 
cordial welcome if your decision follows our wish. 

Very truly yours, 


To Professor W. G. Howabd, 
25 Cofuuit Hall, 

Camhridgey Maae, 

All the sessions were held in the Main Building of the 
College. Professor Brander Matthews, President of the 
Association, presided at all except the last, when Pro- 
fessor L. F. Mott was in the chair. 


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The Association met &t 2.50 p. m. The session was 
opend by an address of welcome from Acting President 
Adolph Werner. 

The following cablegram was reoeivd and red: 

Pabib, Deo. 27, 1910. 

Greetings to the Association through Professor Mott from the 
capital of one Modem Language. 

John H. Finijet. 

The Secretary of the Association, Professor 0. H. 
Grandgent, submitted as his report the publisht Pro- 
ceedings of the last annual meeting and the whole volume 
of the Pibblications of the Association for the year 1910. 

The report was accepted. 

On motion of the Secretary, it was voted that a com- 
mittee of three, consisting of former pupils or coUeags of 
the late Professor A. Marshall Elliott, be appointed to 
draw up a resolution commemorating his deth. The 
President appointed Professors H. A. Todd, J. W. Bright, 
and F. M. Warren. 

The Tresurer of the Association, Professor W. G. 
Howard, submitted the folloing report: 


Balance on hand, December 27, 


, , 

From Members, life, 

. $ 80 00 

" " for 1907, 

9 00 

" " " 1908, 

89 00 

*' " " 1909, 

182 00 

" " " 1910, 

2,801 80 

" " ** 1911, 

120 40 

$2,949 62 

$2,731 70 

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I libraries, 

Vols, i-xxin, . 

. $ 148 40 





17 10 





. 160 40 


tt II 


. vi-xxm, . 

81 00 


29 00 





16 40 





66 10 





2 70 

From Advertisers, Vol. XXIV, 
II " " XXV, 

For Reprints, Vol. XXV, 
" Corrections, '* 

Interest, Eutaw Savings Bank, 
< < Ounbridge Savings Bank, 
« * Cambridge Trust Co. , 

$ 406 00 

. . « 

102 20 

60 00 

22 60 


82 60 

6 60 

9 60 

62 00 
41 60 
23 83$ 

127 33 

8 460 ^^ 

$6,409 76 


To Secretary for Salary, . 

« <« •* Printing, 

«< " *' Postage, 

« «« " Expressage, . 

4t ti II Clerical work, 

II it «< Proof-reading, 

" " " Typewriting, . 

To Treasorer for Salary, 
u II " Printing, 
II i« «< Postage, 
II " " Expressage, . 
•« «« «' Oerical work, 

Td Secretary, Central IHvinon, 
For Salary, 
<• Expenses, . 


400 00 

67 46 

63 88 


8 60 

4 60 

10 15 


200 00 

84 35 



16 60 

$ 557 33 

$ 804 05 

$ 75 00 
72 60 

$ 147 60 

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To Committee on Hon. Members, . 


8 50 

" " " Early Texts, 


12 76 
$ 16 25 

For Printing PMieaUom^ 

Vol XXV, No. 1, 


509 96 

" XXV, "2, . . 


495 88 

«• XXV, «' 8, . . 


515 85 

*' XXV, ** 4, . . 


659 93 

•A lOf HA 

For Printing Program 28th Annual Meeting, 

. . $ 100 59 

For Back Numbers of PubUeaiianB, . 


14 65 

£<xclianffe« • • • • 

8 80 

$3,330 89 

Balance on hand, ( ^''^'' ^^""^ ^^' ' ' ^^'^^^ ^^ 

iw. 27 1910 \ Cambridge Savings Bank, . . 1,069 42 

' ' ICambridge Trust Co., . . 397 34 

8,078 86 
$6,409 75 

On motion of the Tresnrer, it was voted: 

1. That a Committee of three be appointed by the Chair to co- 
operate with two members to be appointed by the Chairman of 
the* Central Division in mesures looking to the accumulation of 
a permanent fund for the Association. 

2. That there be referd for action to the next Union Meeting and 
publisht with the notis of that Meeting as a subject for action 

A recommendation to the Executiv Council to appoint three 
Trustees upon terms that shal giv effect to the folloing prin- 
ciples, to wit: 

a) The Trustees shal receive and hold all unrestricted gifts, 
and all bequests and legacies to the Association which ar 
not restricted to particular uses by the wil of the testator. 
h) The Trustees shal keep intact the principal of all sums 
entrusted to them and shal invest it at their discretion; 
provided, however, that if at any time the Association 
be dissolvd, the Trustees shal then giv and pay over to the 
Trustees of the Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement 
of Teaching all moneys, principal and interest, and all 
rights, properties, and evidences of property by them held 
in trust for the benefit of this Association. 

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PBOOXBDmos FOB 1910 vii 

c) The Trustees shal annually on the third Monday in Janu- 
ary pay the net income of all trust funds in their keeping 
to the Tresurer of the Association for the general uses 

3 That members of the Association be and they hereby ar invited 
to signify to the Committee aforesed: 
a) their willingness to contribute to a permanent fund for the 

Association, if such a fund be establisht; 
h) their willingness to become Life Members, and on what 


4. That the Tresurer be authorized to receive and hold contribu- 
tions to a permanent fund until Trustees ar appointed to 
receive them, or, in case Trustees shud not be appointed in 
the year 1912, subject to the order of the Executiv Council. 

The President of the Association appointed as members 
of this Committee: Professors W. G. Howard, H. E. 
Greene, and J. Geddes, Jr. The Chairman of the Central 
Division appointed Professors J. W. Cunliffe and A. F. 

On motion of Professor J. W. Cunliffe, it was voted, 
after discussion by Professors Brander Matthews, W. H. 
Carpenter, C. H. Grandgent, and F. N. Scott: 

That the Chair be requested to nominate a committee 
of three to submit to this meeting some course of action 
with a view to the registration of subjects of doctoral 
dissertations in hand. 

The President designated Professors J. W. Cunliffe, 
F. K Scott, and H. A, Todd. 

The President next appointed the f oUoing committees : 

(1) To audit the Tresurer's report: Professors G. B. 
Woods, C. F. Brown, A. A. Livingston. 

(2) To nominate oflScers: Professors F. N. Scott, H. 
C. G. Brandt, E. C. Armstrong. 


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The reading of papers was then begun. 

1. " The Influence of Greene on Shakspere's Earlier 

Eomances." By Mr. Joseph L. Tynan, of the College 

of the City of New York. 

[Examination of romantic comedy during the period preceding 
1600 reveals two tipes: that which precedes Greene and that which 
Greene establisht. The former is irregular. There is no center to the 
action, no enduring ideality in the love, little delicacy in the yillain, 
and no integration of the comic plot. With Greene the drama be- 
comes the struggle of an ideal love against the opposition of parents, 
differences of rank, faithlesnes, amid adventures, and ending in 
repentance and happines, with surprise. To this form Shakspere 
adhered in his erlier romance, shoing imitation of Greene's work in 
the treatment of the heroin, the villain, the clown, and denouement, 
and paralleling structural methods. — Ttaenty minutes.} 

2. " The Influence of Reprints upon the text of 

Goethe's Works." By Dr. W. Kurrelmeyer, of the Johns 

Hopkins University. 

[Certain volumes of the Neue Schriften, 1792-1800 (N), and 
Werke, 1806-10 (A) wer reprinted by the publishers without Goethe's 
knowledge. These Doppeldrucke constitute a corruption of the text. 
A number of volumes (N* A^) wer used by Goethe in making up the 
copy for succeeding editions. Many errors wer thus introduced and 
perpetuated. Vols. 1-10 of the edition of 1815-19 (B) wer also 
reprinted. — Twenty minutes,} 

3. " A Reclassification of the Perceval Romances." 

"By Professor George B. Woods, of Miami University. 

[For a number of years the theory has been accepted that the 
Perceval story is an illustration of the Expulsum^Md-Retum for- 
mula of folk-lore. The author took exception to this classification 
and suggested that the story is essentially a combination of two 
other independent and well-recognized formulas. The bearing of this 
new classification upon the inter-relation of several versions of the 
story was also briefly considered. — Twenty-five minutes,} 

This paper was discust by Professor A. C. L. Brown. 

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4. " Aspects of the Seicento: (1) Pessimism, (2) Sen- 
suality, (3) Science and the Concetto J^ By Professor 
Arthur A. Livingston, of Cornell University. 

[I. Pessimism. — ^The Reform in Italy: caracteristics of the re- 
ligius poetry of the sixteenth century; Italian skeptics; peripatetic 
filosofy and the Church; Pomponazzi; Cremonini and the mortality 
of the soul; the school of Padova and a group of Venetian pessi- 
mists; Niccold Crasso; Giacomo Badoer; G. F. Busenello; Zuan Gar- 
zoni; Mocenigo; Andrea Venier; pessimism and the literary criti- 
cism of 1630; pessimism and Italian politics; pessimism and moral 
ideals. — II. Sensuality. — ^Pessimism and art. — ^III. .Science and the 
concetto. — Fifteen minutes.} 

6. " Scott's Ivanhoe and Sidney's ArcadiaJ^ By Dr. 

Samuel Lee Wolff, of Columbia University. 

[The indetednes of Ivanhoe to the Arcadia has not, it is believd, 
been exaustivly treated. There is evidence both internal and ex- 
ternal to support the conclusion that Scott borroed the outline and 
several details of Sidney's episode of the captivity of Pamela, Phi- 
loclea, and Pyrocles {Arcadia, Book m). These borroings he 
employed freely in composing his own episode o^ the captivity of 
Eebecca, Rowena, and Ivanhoe {Ivanhoe, Chaps. 19-31). — Ten 

At eight o'clock on the evening of Wednesday, Decem- 
ber 28, Professor Brander Matthews, President of the 
Association, deliverd in the Assembly Room of Townsend 
Hall an address on the subject, " The Economic Inter- 
pretation of Literary History." 

After the address Professor Werner reoeivd the mem- 
bers and gests of the Association in the Tower Room 
of the Main Building. 


The session began at 9.45 a. m. 

Professor J. W. Cunliffe submitted the folloing report 
of the Committee on the Reproduction of Early Texts. 

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The efforts of the committee daring the past year have been mainly 
directed towards securing the publication of a facsimile reproduction 
of the Gaedmon ics. in the Bodleian Library. In accordance with 
the resolution past at the last meeting of the Eastern Division, a 
circular was issued inviting subscriptions, and forty-nine were 
obtained from the United States and Canada, in addition to a 
smaller number abroad. The conditions imposed by the Oxford 
University Press seemed to be in a fair way for fulfilment, when it 
was discovered that these conditions were differently understood by 
your Committee and by the Press. At the suggestion of the Secre- 
tary to the Press the Committee turned their subscription list over 
to him, and satisfactory assurances have since been received from 
him that the reproduction wil be issued, possibly as a memorial to 
the late Dr. Fumivall. 

J. W. CuNUFFE, Chairman, 

C. M. Gatlet. 

G. L. KrrnuEDGK. 

J. M. Manlt. 

H. A. Todd. 

The Secretary presented the folloing communication 
from the Bibliographical Society of America : 

To THE Modern Language Association of Amebioa. 

Oentlemen: — 

At ^he last annual meeting of the Bibliographical Society of 
America Professor Clark S. Northup, a member both of your asso- 
ciation and of ours, presented a paper, " The present bibliographical 
status of modem philology," containing a detailed survey of the 
manner and extent of existing bibliographies of this vast field of 
study. A number of representatives of modem language studies in 
American colleges and universities also presented statements, the 
corollary of which was that while some branches of modem language 
study are adequately treated in current bibliographies, others leave 
much to be desired both as regards fullness of treatment and 
promptness of recording. It seems well proven by a consensus of 
opinion that the bibliography of German language and literature, 
on the whole, is in an excellent condition, but that that of English, 
Eomance, and Scandinavian studies stands in great need of a con- 
certed effort in order to effect needed improvements. 

At the same meeting, another paper, by the chairman of this com- 
mittee, brought out the fact that the complaint of bibliographical 
service for modem publications is general. 

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The Bibliographical Society of America, in response to the recom- 
mendations contained in these two papers, appointed a committee to 
investigate the scope and method of special bibliographies, to con- 
sider remedies for unnecessary duplication, and to advise means of 
extending the efficiency of the bibliographies already in existence. 
The Ck)mmittee was especially instructed to begin its investigations 
with the field of modem philology. 

We beg to lay this matter before you and to ask that you appoint 
a committee to cooperate and advise with ours, and, if possible, to 
meet with it. 

We hope that a result of permanent importance may be the out- 
come of the proposed concerted investigation, whether throu^ ih» 
establishment of a central bureau where the bibliographic interests 
of the modem language studies could be adequately promoted* or 
in some other form that might reflect the general importance of 
the need and our common interest in its relievement. 

We submit, as a supplement to this communication, the proceed- 
ings of the last annual meeting of the Bibliographical Society of 
America, containing a summary of the above mentioned statements 
from representatives of modem language studies. 

The imdersigned regret that the third member of our committee, 
Professor C. S. Northup, through absence in Europe is prevented 
from signing this communication. 

Very reepeetfully, 

J. Christian Day. 
Aesel Q. S. JosEPHSoir, 

For the Oommiiiee <m Survey of BibUogrftphiodl 
Literature, of the BibUographioal Society of AfMrioa, 

Chicago, 15th Deoelnber, 1910. 

On motion of the Secretary, it was voted that Professor 
Raymond Weefa, of Columbia University, 'be appointed 
to represent the eastern wing of the Association in con- 
ference with a representative of the western branch and 
a committee of the Bibliographical Society, and that he 
hav power to designate other members of the Association 
to constitute a committee of the eastern body. [Presi- 
dent jolm S. !N'ollen, of Lake Forest College, was chosen 
to represent the Central Division.] 

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The Chairman of the Committee on the Scope of the 
Publications, Professor J. E, Spingam, submitted the 
f oUoing report in print : 

This committee, — consisting of Professors J. E. Spingam, F. N. 
Scott, B. L. Bowen, C. B. Wilson, and E. C. Armstrong, — ^was ap- 
pointed in December, 1908, in order to consider the advisability of 
enlarging or modifying the scope of the Publications of the Asso- 
ciation. The Committee rendered its report at the annual meet- 
ing in December, 1909; the report was adopted, and the Ck>m- 
mittee was continued in office for another year. In January, 1910, 
however, the Acting Secretary questioned the constitutional validity 
of one of the recommendations of the Committee; and at the sugges- 
tion of the Council it was decided to submit the question to a 
referendum of the Association. In this referendum about half of 
the membership took part, and the vote was adverse to the report 
of the Committee. 

A majority of the Committee is inclined to renew its reconmienda- 
tions of last year; but as a constitutional doubt still remains, the 
Committee deems it advisable to make no report until the Union 
Meeting of 1911 (at which the constitution may properly be 
amended), except to ask that it be continued in office for another 
year, so that whatever report it may make can be without legal 
restrictions adopted by the Association at such Union Meeting in 

J. E. Sfingasn, 


On motion of Professor B, P, Bourland, it was unani- 
mously voted that the Committee on the Scope of the 
Pvhlications be discharged. 

The Chairman of the Committee of Fifteen, Professor 
L. A. Loiseaux, submitted in print the foUoing report, 
which had been presented orally the year before : 

At the Princeton meeting, on December 30th, 1908, the Asso- 
ciation voted that the report presented then " be referred to a com- 
mittee consisting of the Chairman of the Ck>mmittee of Fifteen and 
such other members of that Committee as he may select" (of. 
Proceedings for 1908, p. xvii). 

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In pursuance of the above, the undersigned, acting as a sub- 
committee, beg to submit tiie following for consideration to the 
members of the Modem Language Association. 

The discussion of the report presented at Princeton last year 
brought out the fact that a number of teachers were strongly opposed 
to the existing list of text-books or to any list whatsoever. On the 
other hand, many others expressed the wish that the lists recom- 
mended by the Committee of Twelve, whose practical report has 
proved so helpful during the last decade, be kept and revised to 
meet new conditions and include later publications. 

In view of these two diametrically opposed opinions, this Com- 
mittee, not wishing to assume a responsibility which properly rests 
upon the members of the Association, has decided to outline three 
propositions and to request the members to decide by vote which, 
if any, they wish to accept. 

At the outset it was recognized that on account of the various 
conditions existing in different schools and colleges, it was im- 
possible to select texts which could be considered equally difficult 
everywhere, and for that reason the grading in the lists suggested 
herewith can only be considered as based on a general average. 

Furthermore, as the text^books available for modem language 
instruction are steadily growing in quantity, if not always in 
quality, it has been deemed inadvisable to attempt a general classi- 
fication which in a few years would become incomplete. The German 
system of grading oU text-books is impracticable in this country, at 
least at the present time. 

To avoid oft-repeated criticisms, and for reasons too obvious to 
mention, the Oommittee wishes to state In the most emphatic way 
and to have it distinctly understood: (1) that the lists herewith 
given do not make the least claim to canonical authority; (2) that 
they are offered merely to- be suggestive and helpful in the move- 
ment towards more uniform standards in the field of modern lan- 
guage instruction; (3) that the placing of a text on a list does not 
express or imply any endorsement whatever of said text or of any 
edition of same, to the detriment of other texts equally meritorious. 

The three propositions above mentioned are as follows: 

A. That new Uet9 of teat-hooks are no longer needed, 

B. That the appended hat for French and German, made after the 

plan of the Committee of Ticelve, te approved, 

C. That instead of the above lists, the few typical teats heretoith 

mentioned he considered as representing approaimately the 
grade of work to he done in each year of instruction. 

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Elementary French 

An elemeDtarj Header. 

Dftadet— Easier abort stories.— £e PelU Ch^e, 

Erekmann-Chatrian.— Stories. 

Feuillet^Ls Soman (Pvnjeune hmnme pauvn, 

Foneln.'—Le Pay de Jf^mee. 

BMl^Tj.^VAbbt QmstavUin. 

Labiohe et Martin.— iki poudre auz petu^—Le voyage de M, Perriehon, 

Laboala7e.~Ctmte< bUtu, 

Lamartine.— JaafMM d'Are, 

LaTisse.— iRffoire de P^ranee. 

Lesage.— 6i/ Blot. 

Malot ^-8an* Famille, 

Theuriet~X'il&M Daniel 

Thiers.— JErpMMon de Smaparie en EgypU, 

Verne.— Stories. 

Intermediate French 

AboQl— Ls rd de* tnontagne*. 

Basin.— Contes,—Xe« OberU. 

Chateaubriand.- iltato,— Xe dernier Abeneirage, 

Dandet— i^ belle NIvemaise. 

Domas. -Novels, such as JHonte^OrietOt—Lei tr(di Mmsqueiaiiretf'^La Tul^ noire. 

Lamartine.— (7ra«<eUa. 

M(rlm6e.— Cbtomfta,— Cbnte« et Nimeettet, 

Bemardin de St. Pierre.— i\>ttl et Vlrginie. 

Sand.— £a Mart au Viable. 

Bonrtatn.-'UnpMlotophe ae%u lei toitt. 

Theuriet ^Biffarreatt, 

Voltaire.- i7»tto<re de Charles XITf—Zadig, 

Ac^vanoed French 

Augler et Sandeau.— Xe Oendre de 3f, Pairier, 

Balsao.— NoTels, sach as JBuginie Qrmnd^^lA P9re QorioL 

Coppte.— Poems. 

Daudet— Tbrtarin de Taraeeon, 

Dumas Flls.— £a queiHon d? Argent, 

Tn,ntie.—Le litre de mon ami,-^Le crime de Sgloeetre Bannard, 

Oautier.— Fbya^e en Btpagnef-^ettatura, 

Hugo.— Prose writings, such as Quaire^oingt4reiUt'^Les Mtstrabtee, 

La Fontaine. —Fhbles, 

LotL—PieKeur d^Iilande, 

Maupassant— Stories. 

Moliftre.— X'ilvare,- £0 Bowrgeoii Oentilhomme, 

Benan.— Prose writings. 

Sarcey.— L« iiige de Paris. 

Taine.— OK^itM de la Phmee eontemporaine,'^L*Aheien rigime. 

Elementary German 

Andersen.— £i/d0r&t(cA ohne Bildtr, 
Arnold,— J^Wte au/Ferien, 

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Bftombaoh. —2>er SchwUffersohnf^Waldnovellm. 
Biattageii. ~Z>a« Pelerle von UUmberg, 
"BichendoTlt^Atu dem L$b&n eines Taugeniehlt. 

Rtjwt.—VAfrabbiatat—A^fang und Ende. 
Hillern.— irSAa* aU die Kirche. 
JeDMtsa.—IHe Ifratme Briea. 
Leander.— JTZtfifM Oeiohiehten. 
MeiMner.— iltM mHner Welt, 
8tid^—LeberteKt BOAnehen, 
BUkikl,—Dhter dem ChrisO>aum, 
Btonn.—Immen8ee.^Oe9ehieMen atu der Tonne, 
WUdenbnich.— Dm edU Blut, 
WilbelmL— JSVner mutt heiraten. 
Zfchokka— Der Merbroehene Krug, 

Intermediate German 

Ebner-BBobenbach.— Did Freiherren von Oemperlein, 

FreiftAg.—BUder aut der deuUehen Vergangenheit,^Die JoumalUten, 

Qoethe.— iJernumn und Dorotheei, 

Heine. —Poems,— J26<«eM2(Xer. 

UottinMnii,—matori$eke BnOMungen^—MeMer MawHn der S^^ker, 

Keller.— JTfeitiflr maehen LefUej^Legenden^^Bomeo und Julia auf dem Dcrfe, 

Leseing.— iflfma von Bamheim, 

Meyer.— Dim AmuUti, 

Mi>Ber.-^Der Bibliothekar, 

BitttkL—NoveUen : Burg Neideckf der Flueh der Sehdnheit, der tiumme BMieherr, 

Boeesger.— Waldheimat. 

etikCatir,—BaUaden,—JHe Jung^htu von Orleantf—Dat lAed von d^ Oloekei^^Der M|k 

alt Onkely—WUhelm Ttll, 
Scheffel.— Do* IVomiMter voii Sdkkingen, 
Sadermatin.— .FVotf Sorge. 
Ulil And. —Poems. 

Advanced Qet-man 
Faldft.— Der Talisman, 

^MIIptrzer.—Die Ahnfraut—dtedeatSapphOt—Per JVauM eM Liben. 
BMatr. -Uehienttein, 
Heine.— ^W DeuteeMand, 

Kleist— JfieAoe/ KbhlhaaMt—Der Prbu von Homburg, 
tj68Ang,—SmUia QaloUiy—Nathan dor lfM«e,— Prose writings. 
Meyer.— Der BeiKge, 

Sdhiller.— Die Braut von JftetAMi,— Historioid prose,— Iforia 8htari,^WaUeniMn, 
WUdenbroota.— iTeinrioA. 



1st year: A well graded reader for beginners; Bmno, Le tout de la France; Com- 
|»ayr6, Yvan Gall; Labonlaye, Omtet bleu*; Italot^ Sane F^tmUle, 

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2d jeftr: Daudet^ La Ptiit Chose; Erckmaan-Chatrian, stories ; Hal6Ty, L*Abbi Om- 
9tantin ; Labiche et Martin, Le Voyage de M. PerricKon ; LaTisse, HUtoire de Pranct, 

8d year: Bazin, Let Oberli; Dtimas, noTels; Mgrimge, Oolomba: Sandeau, Mile de la 
Seigli^e; TooqneTille, Voyage en Amirigue. 

4th year: Domas fils, La question d* Argent; Hugo, Quatre^ngl^reizet—Les JifUira' 
hies; Loti, Picheur ^ Islande ; Taine, LAneien rtgime; Vigny, Cinq-Mars; an anthol- 
ogy of Terse. 


Ist year : After one of the many Readers especially prepared for beginners,— Meiss- 
ner's Aus meiner Welt; BlQthgen's Das JPeterle von NBmberg; Storm's Immensee, or any 
of Banmbach's short stories. 

2nd year: Gerstficker's Germelshausen ; EichendorflT's Aus dem Leben eines Tavf 
geniehts; Wildenbruch's JDas edle Blut; Jensen's Die braune Erica; Seidel's Lebereeki 
Buhnchen; Fnlda's Unter vier Augen; Benedix's Lustspiele (any one).— For students 
preparing for a scientiflc school, a good scientific reader is recommended. 

8rd year : Heyse's, Riehl's, Keller's, Storm's, Meyer's, Ebner-Eschenbach's, W. 
Raabe's Novellen or Erzdhlungon can be read.— Selected poems by Goethe^ Schiller, 
XJhland, Heine.— Goethe's Bermann und Dorothea; Lessing's Minna von Bamhelm; 
Schiller's WUhelm 2W<; Freytag's DteJbtima^iften; Heine's ^orsrewe. 

4th year : Goethe's, Schiller's, Lessing's works and Utcs. 

[Note: Daring erery year at least six German poems shoold be committed to 


The Subcommittee on Spanish texts recommends that the follow- 
ing work in Spanish be done in a f>ur years' course in secondary 
schools or in a two years' course in colleges. The Elementary course 
corresponds to the first two years in secondary schools or to the 
first year in colleges; and the Intermediate and Advanced courses 
correspond to a third and a fourth year respectively in secondary 
schools or to a second year in colleges, except that there should be 
more practice in speaking and writing Spanish in the secondary 
schools. It is assumed that in secondary schools there shall be four 
or five recitations a week, for at least thirty-two weeks of each year. 
The Sub-Ck>mmittee urges that in secondary schools the emphasis 
be placed on careful, thoro work, with much repetitions, rather than 
upon rapid reading. 

The comparative difficulty and the relative worth of Spanish 
literary works cannot be definitely determined, for readers do not 
agree. It is therefore with considerable hesitancy that the Sub- 
Committee attempts to arrange the works in the order of difficulty, — 
placing the least difficult first, — and to mark with an asterisk those 
works which are especially recommended for use in secondary schools. 
No attempt has been made to separate the texts of the intermediate 
and advanced courses. 

Elementary Course 

Grammar, with mach practice in speaking and writing Spanish thraoat the coarse; 
and the oarefhl reading of about 100 pages of easy prose and verse daring the flnt 

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PBOCBEDINaS FOE 1910 xvii 

h«lf of the eonrae, and about 200 pagtt daring the second half, to be selected from the 
foUoiring : a collection of easy short stories and lyrics*, carefblly graded ; Jnan Yalera, 
Mp^aro verd<^; Perez Escrich, Fortuna*; Ramos CarrI6n y Vital Ara, ZaragHeta*; 
Palado Vald^ Jm^; Pedro de Alaro6n. El OapU&n Veneno*; the selected short stories 
of Pedro de Alarc6n or Antonio de Trueba. 

Intermediate and Advanced Courses 
Grammar and prose composition or fk'ee r^roducUon once or twice a week, and the 
eareftil reading of aboat 400 pages of prose and Terse of medium diAculty in the inter- 
mediate coorse, and of aboot 600 pages in the adranced course, to be selected from the 
following groups : 

(a) One or more of the following collections of short stories : a collection of short 
stories by different authors*; or the selected short stories of Palado Yaldfis*, Fem&n 
Gaballero*, Pardo Baz&n, Narcisso CampiUo, or Becquer.* 

(b) One or more of the following plays : Tamayo y Baus, Lo potUitfo^t ^ drama 
mmevo; Moratin, El A deku nifUu *; Larra, Pftrtir d Hempo ; Jos( Echegaray, Elpoder 
do la impoieneia*, O loeura 6 soHiidad ; Nufiez de Arce, El ha» de Mia; Calder6n, El 
migieo prodigiMO. 

(e) A collection of ^MUiish lyrics. 

id) One or more of the following long stories : P6rez Gald6s, Marianela*^ DoHa 
FerfetU:^; Fem&n Gaballero, La FbmUia de Alvaredc^; Palacio Valdfis, La aUgria 
del eapUAn Bibot*, Marta y JToHa; Blasoo Ibifies, La barraca; Juan Yalera, El 
cemmdador MendMOj PepUa JinUnez; Pardo Bas&n, Pascual LopeM!*; Pereda, Pedro 
JBanchet; Padre Isla's Terslon of Gil Bias; Oenrantes, Don Qti^ote* (extracts). 

The Sub-Committee also urges that every secondary school in 
which Spanish is taught should have in its library several Spanish- 
English and English-Spanish dictionaries, the all-Spanish dictionary 
of the Royal Spanish Academy; one or more manuals of the history 
of Spanish literature, such as that by Fitnnaurice-Kelly, and Tick- 
nor's History of Sptmiah Literature, 

Respectfully submitted, 
L. A. LoiSBATJX, Chairman, H. H. Boll, 

W. B. Snow, E. C. Hills, 

W. D. Head, W. H. Chenebt, 

E. Spanhoofd, F. W. Mobbison. 

There ensued, with regard to the three plans proposed 
by the Committee for French and Gterman books, a dis- 
cussion in which Professors W, G. Howard, H. E. Greene, 
A. Cohn, C, H. Grandgent, Calvin Thomas, Miss H. H. 
Boll, Dr. W, Kurrelmeyer, and Mr. W. D. Head partici- 
pated. Finally, on motion of Professor A. Cohn, propo- 
sition C was adopted by a vote of 27 to 16 : 

That insted of the above lists, the few typical texts 

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herewith mentiond be considerd as representing approxi- 
mately the grade of work to be done in each year of 

On motion of Professor W. G. Howard, the Committee's 
"proposed course in Spanish" was adopted without 

On motion of Professor C. H. Grandgent, the vote 6f 
the previus year, directing the Committee to "classify 
all modem language texts now available for use in ele- 
mentary and secondary instruction," was resinded. 

In connection with the subject of Grammatical Termi- 
nology, to study which the Committee of Fifteen was 
originally constituted, Professor W. G. Hale spoke on 
" The Harmonizing of our Ghrammatical !N'omenclature, 
with especial reference to Mood-Syntax." [See PubUcor 
tions, XXVI, 2.] 

On motion of the Secretary, the thanks of the Asso- 
ciation were tendered to Professor Hale for his interesting 
and instructive paper. 

The reading of papers was then resumed. 

6. " The Text of Petrarch." By Professor Kenneth 

McKenzie, of Yale University. 

[A brief account of the transmisgioii of Peirarch'^ Rime, and i 
discussion of the conditions attending the preparation of a standard 
text. — Fifteen minutea,^ 

7. " The Queenes itaiesties entertainment at Wood- 
stocke (1585)." Sy Pnofessor John William Ounliffe, 
of the University of Wisconsin. [See Publications, xxvi. 


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PBOGXsDiNas FOB 1910 xiz 

[History of this unique quarto, which has not been re-publisht 
Its attribution to George Gascoigne. Weaknes of the evidence in 
support of the claim; reasons agenst it. Purpose of the entertain- 
ment — "no leese hidden then vttered." Its popularity. A curius 
reference in 1592 identifies one of the caracters with Sir Henry Lee, 
the Queen's Champion, and lieutenant of the Royal Manor at Wood- 
stock. The question of authorship. — Twenty minutes.} 

8. " Some German Zdhllieder:' By Mr. Emil A, C, 

Keppler, of the College of the City of New York. 

[Theories as to their origin: Jewish; Oriental, thru Crusaders; 
Druidic; spinning songs, counting the stitches; Ghrisiian theolo- 
gical. Their gradual decay from high religius use to children's 
nursery rhymes. Their reriTal as religious songs. LamhertiuHeder. 
The identity of The House that Jack BuUt with ** Der Bauer sohickt 
den Jokkel aus." — Fifteen minutee,} 

9. " Salmagundi and the Knickerbocker School.*' By 

Professor Edward E. Hale, Jr., of Union College. 

[The riters of New York during the first haf of the nineteenth 
century are often cald the "Knickerbocker School." Ther is to be 
found among them something of a common tone and a common fund 
of material and motive. Of these motivs or ideas some may be traced 
to Salmagundi (1807). The paper analises the motive of that publi- 
cation, and discusses their origin and tiieir continuance in the 
literature of the haf-century. — Twenty minutee.] 

This paper was discust by Professor C. H. Grandgent 

10. " ErmegJ' By Mr. Baymond Thompson Hill, of 

Tale University. 

[A definition of this genre of medieval poetry, folloed by a study 
of the poems of this tipe which are found in Provencal, Catalan, 
Italian, and French. — Fifteen minute8,'\ 

This paper was discust by Dr. S. L. Wolff. 

[At the close of this session there was a meeting of the 
Concordance Society.] 

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At one o'clock p. m. the members and friends of the 
Association were the gests of the College at luncheon in 
the Gymnasium. 


The session began at 2.45 p. m. 

11. ^' 8hul and Shal in the Chaucer Manuscripts." 

By Professor Carleton F. Brown, of Bryn Mawr College. 

[See Pvhlications, xxvi, 1.] 

[In the use of the forms ahul and ahal in plural construction the 
Chaucer icss. sho surprising variation. One observs markt changes 
of usage, not only when one poem is compared with another, but 
also when separate tales in the Canterbury collection ar compared. 
This variation affords a new test which may be applied to theories 
concerning the "evolution" of the Canterbury collection. — Ttoeniy 

12. " The Influence of the Medieval Christian Visions 
on Jean de Meun." By Professor Stanley L. Galpin, of 
Amherst College. 

[The medieval Christian visions, widely circulated in the twelfth 
and thirteenth centuries, wer known to Jean de Meun, and there ar 
immistakable evidences of their influence upon the second part of 
the Romctn de la Rose. — Ten minutes,] 

13. "Wilhelm Hauffs Specific Eolation to Walter 
Scott." By Professor Garrett W. Thompson, of the Uni- 
versity of Maine. 

[ (a) Analisis of Scott's technic as a novelist. (5) Critical study 
of Scott's novels and of Hauffs Lichtenstein, (o) A comparison 
of the same as to (1) situations, (2) caracters, (3) form and out- 
line, (4) language and diction, (5) general caracteristics. {d) 
Consideration of other possible sources for lAohtenatein, {e) Esti- 
mate of Hauff's indetednes to Scott. — Twenty minutes,] 

14. " Some Stylistic Features of The Misfortunes of 

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Arthur^ By Professor H. 0. Grumbine, of the Univer- 
sity of Wooster. 

[This paper aimd to sho the kinship of the play, The Mia fortunes 
of Arthur, in both form and content, to the classical plays of 
the Elizabethan period. Its vers is woodn and rigid, its situations 
loosely constructed, and its climax sprawling. Its diction is freited 
with classical allusion, a patchwork, at places, of yerses more or 
les literally translated from classical tragedies. On the other hand, 
in dignity of imagery and sonorusnes of frase, it approaches the 
pomp and magnificence of Marlowe. — Fifteen minutes,'] 

15. " The Trouibadour Canso and Latin Lyric Poetry/' 
By Professor Frederick Morris Warren, of Yale Univer- 

[G. Paris's theory of the origin of the RcHnanoe liric. Spirit 
of the canso. Its conventional strofe on nature. Form of the 
canso unknown to Latin poetry, hence Bomance in origin. First 
Troubadours educated in Limousin soools. Original canso a him 
to the Virgin possibly. Introductory nature strofe taken from 
Latin lirics: Pervigilium Veneris, Fortunatus, Euginius of Toledo, 
Alcuin, and their imitations in the ninth and tenth centuries. Re- 
taind in canso when a feudal suzerain displaced the virgin. — Twenty 

The Auditing committee reported that the Tresurer^s 
accounts wer found correct; and the Tresurer^s report 
was thereupon accepted. 

It was announst that, altho the attendance was probably 
the largest in the history of the Association, the number 
of railway certificates presented was insufficient to secure 
a reduction of rates. 

[At the dose of this session there was a meeting of the 
American Dialect Society.] 

At half-past eight o'clock in the evening the ladies of 
the Association wer informally entertained by Mrs. Alice 

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Garrijgue Mott and Miss Compton at No, 40 West 126th 

At the same hour the gentlemen of the Association wer 
enterfiaind by the local committee at the Anon Club. A 
smoke talk was givn by Mr. Edward M. Shepard. 


The session began at 10 a. m. 

Professor Kenneth McKenzie presented the report of 
the Committee on Honorary Membership: 

In order to secure a more sistexnatic procedure in the selection 
of honorary members, the folloing rules shal be observd: 

1. The total number of honorary members shal not at any time 
exceed forty. 

2. It is desirable that honorary members be so selected as to 
represent adequately the different fields of modem language 
study in the different forein countries, without giying a 
disproportionate representation to any one country. 

3. Members of the Association are at liberty to propose to the 
Executiv Ck>uncil candidates for the nomination to honorary 
membership. From the candidates so proposed before November 
1 in any year, the Executiv Council may select a suitable 
number to be voted on at the next annual meeting. The names 
of those to be voted on, if any, together with a statement 
of the qualifications of each candidate, shal be sent to all 
members with the prograiji of the annual meeting. 

Furthermore, ^he Executiv Council is requested to ocmsider the 
advisability of amending the Constitution by adding to § III the 

"The number of honorary members shall not at any time exceed 

Kenneth MoKbnzh^ 

The report was adopted. 

[The Executiv Council subsequently approved the pro- 
posed amendment to the Constitution.] 

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On behalf of the Executiv Council, the Secretary pro- 
posed for Honorary Membership the folloing gentlemen, 
who were unanimously elected: 

Ernesto Monaci, University of Rome. 

Ramon Menendez Pidal, University of Madrid, 

J. J. JuBserand, French Ambassador, Washington. 

On motion of Professor L. F. Mott, a telegram of 
f rendly greeting was sent to the Central Division. 

Mr. W. D. Head having resigned his membership in 
the Committee of Fifteen, Professor W. G. Hale was 
chosen in his place. 

Professor E. S. Sheldon submitted a report from the 
Delegates of the Association to a Joint Conference on a 
Fonetic English Alphabet: 

The meeting was held in New York in April, 1910, and it took 
the form of a conference of a committee of the National Education 
Association with certain members of this Association and the Ameri- 
can Philological Association. Having no record of what was done 
at this meeting, I wrote to Mr. Vaile as the person most likely to 
have such a record and received from him a letter and a printed 
document containing the plan laid before the National Education 
Association for an alphabet for wider use and less strictly based on 
phonetic principles than the one approved some years ago (1906) by 
the other two Associations. The plan as adopted at this meeting 
was somewhat modified at a later session, at which I was not 
present, and in this shape it is doubtless the one presented to the 
National Education Association at its last meeting. Other modifi- 
cations are not impossible before that body finally adopts the plan. 

This alphabet has been printed, it appears, in the Journal of 
Education (Boston), of October 26, 1910. 

As is natural under the circumstances this plan is nearer to 
ordinary usage than is that of the Joint Ck>mmittee (1904), tho 
it is a little nearer to that alphabet than to the revised alphabet 
approved in 1905 by this Association and the American Philological 

No action by this Association seems necessary. 

E. 8. Sheij)on. 


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The report was accepted and the Committee was dis- 

The Committee appointed to draw up a resolution on 
the deth of Professor Elliott ofierd this report: 

Wheras, in the deth of Professor A. Marshall Elliott^ the Modem 
Language Association of America has sufTerd the los of its founder 
and first secretary. 

Therefore be it resolvd, that the Association put on record the 
profound sens of its indetednes to Professor Elliott for the timely 
and inestimable sends renderd by him to the cause, in America, of 
education and scolarship in the Modem Languages, and that the 
Association hereby expresses its deep appreciation of Professor 
Elliott's unremitting labors as Secretary during the first nine years 
of its existence, and the soro of its members at the los of his 
genial companionship, helpful simpathy, and frendly counsel. 

H. A. T(M>D, Ohadrman. 
J. W. BmoHT. 
F. M. Wabbbn. 

The resolution was adopted by a unanimous vote. 

The Committee on the Announcement of Subjects of 
Doctoral Dissertations presented this report: 

The Committee believs that the prompt and regular announcement 
in the PubUoatiom of subjects of doctoral^ dissertations seriusly 
begun would be of advantage to scolarship, not merely by preventing 
duplication, but by stimulating reserch. To make the scheme 
effective, however, the co-operation of the leading graduate soools, 
not only on this continent, but in Europe, is obviusly desirable. 
It is therefore recommended that a Committee of three be nominated 
by the President to ascertain how far such co-operation cud be 
secured, and to report to the Union meeting of 1911. 

J. W. CuNLiFPB, Cfhairman. 
F. N. Scott. 
H. A. Todd. 

The report was approved, and the three gentlemen who 

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had drawn up the report were appointed members of the 
new Committee. 

The nominating committee reported the foUoing nomi- 

President: Lewis F. Mott, College of the City of New 

First Vice-President: Laurence Fossler^ University of 

Second Vice-President: William A. Nitze, University 
of Chicago. 

Third Vice-President: Carleton F. Brown, Bryn Mawr 

The candidates nominated were umanimusly elected to 
their respectiv oflEices for the year 1911. 

[To fill Professor L. F. Motfs place in the Executiv 
Council, Professor Gustav Qruener was subsequently 
elected by the Council; and Professor C. M. Gayley was 
chosen in place of Professor G. Hempl, resined.] 

On motion of Professor Kenneth McEenzie it was 

Eeaolvd, that the members of the Modem Language Association 
of America desire to place on record their hariy appreciation of 
the admirable arrangements which have made the twenty-eighth 
annual meeting of the Association a succesful and in every way 
delightful occasion; and they hereby express to the Acting President 
and other authorities of the College of the City of New York, to 
Professor L. F. Mott and the other members of the local committee, 
to Mrs. Alice Garrigue Mott and Miss Compton, to Mr. Edward 
M. Shepard, to the Graduates' Club of New York City, to the Faculty 
Club of Columbia University, and to the Women's University Club> 
their cordial thanks for the many curtesies receivd. 

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The reading of papers was resomecL 

16. " Shylock." By Professor Elmer Edgar StoU, of 
Western Beseire University. 

[Shakespeare's purpose, or bias^ as it appears in caracter and 
plot; the treatment of Jews in contemporary drama and other popu- 
lar literature; the prejudis agenst Jews and usurers in the life of 
the day. An attempt was made to read the meaning of the dramatio 
method here employd, and to illustrate the incidents and the senti- 
ment of the drama by material drawn from the customs and manners 
of erly England and the neiboring nations. Out of the criticism 
of receivd opinion arise questions concerning the sort of ideas and 
artistic method current in Shakespeare's time and in ours. Is 
Shylock ment to be comical or pathetic, or both together? What 
sort of irony does Shakespeare employ? What of his noiions of 
justis, toleration, and the extenuating circumstances of environ- 
ment? — Twenty minutes. 

This paper was discust by Professors Brander Matthews, 
J. W. Ciinliffe, E. E. Stoll, and Lane Cooper. 

17. " The Life and Works of Jehan de Vignay." By 
Professor Guy E. Snavely, of Allegheny College. 

[A brief account of the life of Jehan de Vignay. His popularly 
as a translator at the Valois Court. Author of two Latin treatises. 
Translated twelv works into French, some of great length, notably 
the Mireoir Historial and the L^gende dorie. Numerus extant 
manuscripts and incunabulum editions of these works, as well as of 
Le lAvre dee Esohez, The probable source of two of Caxton's erly 
printed works, The Golden Legend and the Ocune and Playe of 
Chess, — Twenty minutes,'\ 

18. "Chaucer and Edward III." By Mr. Samuel 

Moore, of Harvard University. 

[That Edward III was a reader of English poetry before 1360, 
or that he afterwards developt the taste in consequence of his 
acquaintance with Chaucer, seems improbable. None of Chaucer's 
works contains any evidence of having been ritn for Edward. The 
complete absence of allusions to the King and Queen in his erly 
work (and particularly the absence of some commemoration of the 

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deth of Queen Philippa) is in striking contrast to the close connection 
of Chaucer's later works with Richard and Anne, and is good evidence 
that his relation to the two kings was essentially different. This 
opinion is entirely consistent with Chaucer's career under Edward 
III. His pension and appointment in the Customs were the normal 
rewards of an esquire of the king. So far as his career is distin- 
guishable from that of his fello-esquires, he owed that distinction 
to his imcommon and varied ability for the public service. His 
possession of such ability can be proved by the records of his life. — 
Ttpenty minutes.] 

This paper was discust by Professor W. H. Hulme. 

19. " The Question of the Origin of the Tannhauser 

Legend." By Professor Arthur F. J. Eemy, of Columbia 


[Since the publication, in 1897 and 1898, of the studies of Oaston 
Paris concerning the Venusherg and the Tannh&user legend the 
question of their origin has been repeatedly discust by scolars. The 
opinion which regards the legend as of purely Qerman origin has been 
largely abandond, and its origin is sought for elsewhere, particularly 
in Italy in the region of the Apennines. The vew presented in 
this paper is that the ultimate origin of the legend is in Celtic 
literature, in that tipe of story known in Irish literature as Eohtra, 
the expedition of a mortal into fairy-land. The latest theory, which 
h<^ds the l^;end to be an outcome of the legend of the grail, the 
grail mountain being confused with the Ven^usb&rg, is not tenable.^^ 
Twenty minutes.} 

20. " La (leographie Linguistique." By Professor L. 

A. Terracher, of the Johns Hopkins University. 

[ ( 1 ) Au d4but, ** gtographie " signifle simplement " cartographie " 
(limltes de langues, de "dialectes" de caract^res linguistiquies) x 
OQ constate des faits, sans chercher d'explication. — (2) L'AtUu Un- 
ffuistique de la France et la ''gtologie linguistique " ; expose et 
critique 4e la m^thode. — (3) Possibility d'une nouvelle "gCo- 
graphie": explication sociale de la distribution topographique det 
faits linguistiquesv — Twenty minutes.] 

At one o'clock the members and friends of the AssO' 

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ciation were the gests of the College at luncheon in the 


The session began at 2.40 p. m. 

21. "From Fact to Fiction, 1663-1673." By Dr. 

Ernest Bernbaum, of Harvard University. 

[The almost forgotn ri tings (six pamphlets, a play, and four 
biographies) relating to the notorius Mary Carleton because of 
their concern with one and the same career, their number, and 
their variety, make it possible to trace, more precisely than hereto- 
fore, how during the Bestoration a criminal biografy was com- 
posed. These professedly veracius accounts finally gather in a nar- 
rativ which is intentionally almost as much a work of fiction as 
Moll FUmdera; and which, in substance, form, tone, and purpose, 
reveals so close an approach to the realistic novel of Defoe as to 
become of historical significance. — Ttoenty minutes,'] 

22. " Survival of Germanic Heathendom in Pennsyl- 
vania." By Dr. E. M. Fogel, of the University of 

[Certain superstitions, — as, for example, ''the feeding of charcoal 
to pigs to keep them well," "tying red fiannel about the leg of a 
parturient woman," '' the use of Good Friday ashes to prevent lice," 
— are direct survivals of old Germanic Heathendom, as are also the 
Cristmas cakes, Cristmas candies, etc. — Twenty mmutesJ] 

23. " An English Friend of Charles of Orleans." By 

Dr. H. N. MacCracken, of Tale University. [See PvhU- 

cations, xxvi, 1.] 

[Wm. de la Pole, Duke of Suffolk (1396-1460). His French lirics 
and prose remains in English. Numerus circumstances point to^ 
wards his identity with the author of the poetical translations of 
Orleans, the English lirics found in French MSS. of Orleans, and 
the twenty hdladee in ms. Fairfax 16. In such a case, he wud 
assiune the first place in the history of the courtly lirio from 
Chaucer to Shelton. — Fifteen minutea.l 

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24. " Some Notes on Stephen Hawes.'^ By Professor 

Albert K. Potter, of Brown University. 

[Peculiarity of his position. Sixteenth century editions. Re- 
prints of Pastime of Pleasure in the nineteenth century. Material 
for a new and definitiv text. Some compariscms. Nobiliiy of con- 
ception of the Pastime of Pleasure, Indetednes to contemporary 
English printed hooks. The Comfort of Lovers, unprinted since 
1610. Its curius departure from the usual tipe of love allegory. 
Autohiografy or paranoia? Versification. — Fifteen mvMAtes,'\ 

25. " The Source of a Medieval Latin Legend." By 

Professor George M. Priest, of Princeton University. 

[The paper attempted to prove that a Latin legend of the thir- 
teenth century which has heen accepted as authentic by the Catholic 
Church and incorporated in the Acta Sanctorum, was taken, in 
parts verbatim, • from a Middle High Qerman poem. — Fifteen 

On motion of Miss H. H. Boll, it was voted that the 
Association express to Mrs. Alice Garrigue Mott and Miss 
Oompton the gratitude of the lady members and gests for 
the hospitality extended to them. 

On motion of Dr. D. Klein, it was voted that the Asso- 
ciation convey to Mrs. Mott its appreciation of her services 
as hostess. 

The Association adjourned at 4.45 p. m. 


The foUoing papers, presented to the Association, were 
red by title only: 

26. " The Triumph of death, attributed to Mary Sidney, Countess 
of Pembroke." By Francis Campbell Berkeley, of the University 
of Wisconsin. 

[Notes on The Triumph of death translated out of ItaUan by the 

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Cotmtease of Pembroke (Library of the Inner Temple, Petyt mb. 
538. 43. 1, fol. 286-290.) A discussion of (1) the authenticity of 
the text; (2) the caracter of the translation.] 

27. ''The Relation of Marlowe and Shakespeare in Henry VI, 
Parts 2 and 3." By Mr. C. F. Tucker Brooke of Yale University. 

[A comparison of the varius texts of these plays with each oth^ 
and with Marlowe's last plays — notably The Maesaore at Porta and 
Edward II — ^makes possible a much clearer understanding of the 
relations of Marlowe and Shakespeare than has yet been attempted. 
Thru all the versions of Henry VI (223) the primary conception 
of caracter and the theory of dramatic structure remain those of 
Marlowe's erliest sketch. Shakespeare has elaborated and expanded 
with the greatest reverence and has changed or replaced very little 
of Marlowe's work. It is demonstrated that in the senes portraying 
Richard Duke of York, for example, we have preservd some of 
Marlowe's most caracteristic verse and caracter portrayal — ^inti- 
mately connected and probably contemporaneus with his portrait 
of Guise in the Massacre. A study of definitly Marlowesque and 
Shakespearean portions of the work further illustrates in a very 
valuable w&j Shakespeare's dramatic method about 1692.] 

28. "The Poe Canon." By Professor KiUis Campbell, of the 
University of Texas. 

[Poe has been edited oftener than any other American; nev^ihe- 
less a good deal remains to be done before the canon of his writings 
shal hav been completely establisht. The present paper traces the 
growth of the canon, examines anew sundry items either doubtfully 
or erroneously given by Poe, enumerates the sources whence further 
additions to the canon ar to be lookt for, and proposes certain tests 
that may be helpful in authenticating doutful attributions.] 

29. "Congreve as Romanticist." By Professor Henry S. Canby, 
of Yale University. 

[This paper is a portion of a study of the comedies of William 
Congreve. Congreve's comedies, tho based upon the manners of his 
age, are not realism but romance of an unusual variety, the romance 
of rakishness. The ideal of living which gave rise to this romance 
was an importation from Prance, but was made English by the 
Restoration dramatists, and carried to perfection by Congreve. In 
the attempt to give it final expression he was forced to idealise 
both immorality and fastidiousness, and the nature of his achieve- 

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ment explains the presence of his chief defects, and defines his most 
notable accomplishment. This theory requires a change in the usual 
critical attitude towards Congreve, and, to some extent, a new 
estimation of his place in English literature.] 

30. ''J. J. Rousseau et les R^its de Voyages en Am^rique. Les 
Origines du Diacoura swr Vlnigalit^" By Mr. Gilbert Chinard, of 
Brown Universily. 

[La thterie de la bontd naturelle de Thomme et de Tinnocence des 
premiers temps est en contradiction avee le mouTement encyclop^ 
diste et s'aocorda mal avec le Calvinisme de Rousseau. Par son 
milieu et son Education Jean Jacques aurait dH en dtre 61oign6. II 
ne Ta pas trouvde en lui-mdme, comme 11 Ta cm, elle ne lui a pas da- 
vantage 6t6 8uggigr4e par Diderot; il Ta rencontrd dans les r^cits 
de Toyages en Am^rique, et chez lee ^crivains qui se sont inspires 
d'eux. Montaigne (chapitre des Gannibales) introduisit le premier 
un faux paralMlisme entre Tftge d'or et Tinnocence des sauyaget 
am4ricains. Hant^ par son exemple et surtout par leurs souvenirs 
classiques, Lescarbot et tous les J^suites envoy^s dans la Nouvelle 
France contribueront & dtablir cette l^gende. Elle apparatt tr$s 
nettement chez Ftoelon (Description de la B^tique) ; elle a d6j& 
line allure r^volutionnaire chez La Hontan et chez bien d'autres 
avant Rousseau. Les origines de cette th^orie sont done nettement 
classiques; ceux-lft seuls qui connaissaient Virgile et Plutarque ont 
retrouv4 T^tat idyllique de I'ftge d'or chez les sauvages du Nouveau 
Monde. La difference entre les r^cits des Jteuites et ceux des 
B^collets, de mtaie que quantity de livres comme ceux du P. Lafitaa 
et du P. Buffier, le montre clairement. Simplicity des mceurs, com* 
munaute des biens, absence de lois et de pouvoir social; telles sont 
les caract4ristiques des sauvages Am^ricains d'aprte ces voyagenrs: 
Rousseau, qui n'a pas pu ne pas lire quelques-unes de leurs relations, 
a retrouvd dans sa memoire 1' "homme naturel" qu'il a cm de 
bonne foi eonstruire in ah9tr€U)to par le seul raisonnement.] 

3L "Queen €hiinevere and the Swan-Maiden Legend." By Pro- 
fessor Philip W. Harry, of the University of Pittsburgh. 

[Arthur's Queen seems to have been originally a fairy. Neither 
Vamour oourtois nor the several abductions of Guinevere are suffi- 
cient to account for the Queen's notoriety. Her infidelity is a 
function of her fairy nature, a development, perhaps, of the phisical 
deformity motif. The basis of the story of Arthur and Queen 
Gninevere is the Swan-Maiden legend, or Lady of the Lake legend. 
Arthur cannot retain his fairy wife (or mistress), as in all stories 

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of this iype, simply because she is a fairy. A taboo (marriage 
stipulation) is broken and the fairy wife departs.] 

32. " / Santi di ManerU, Printed on Vellum." By Dr. George C. 
Keidel, of the Johns Hopkins University. 

[The Royal Library of Hanover possesses an incunabulum copy 
hitherto imknown to scholars which contains many interesting 
features. Three compositors worked on the edition simultaneusly, 
a fact not before noted and which may account for tiie three leaves 
which seem to be missing from all the known copies. The back- 
wardness of bibliografical reserch for modern language incunabula 
is here illustrated.] 

33. "Analogues of Chaucer's Pa/rdoner'a Tale** By Dr. Robert 
Adger Law, of the University of Texas. 

[In Clouston's OriginaU and Analogues of the Oa^erhury Tales 
the Veddbhhajataka is denominated the "Buddhist Original" of the 
Pardoner's Tale» Owing to the antiquity of the J&takas this theory 
seems to have gone unquestiond. But on analisis the supposed 
original shows elements apparently not primitiv. Examination of 
many undented analogs leads one to believe that t^e story once 
belongd to a well defined group of accursed tresure tales, in which 
deth overtakes every possessor of the tresure in turn. If so, Kip- 
ling's narrative, The King's Anhtis, preservs features older than has 
been generally supposed.] 

34. "The Authorship of The Sun's Darling:* By Mr. Frederick 
E. Pierce, of Yale University. 

[The dramatic work of Ford differs from that of Dekker (I) in 
vocabulary, by a much freer use of long lAtin derivativs; (II) in 
meter, (a) by a freer use of double endings, (b) by a frequent use 
of triple endings, which are almost unknown in Dekker. In The 
Sun's Darling these three tests agree thruout, and give Ford a 
larger share of the play than has usually been assined him.] 

36. "Uhland's Fortunat," By Professor John C. Ransmeier, of 
Tulane University. [To appear in PublioatumSf xxvi, 3.] 

[Significance of Fortunat for Uhland's attitude toward Folk Lit- 
erature. Relation of the poem to its chief source, the German 
Volkshuoh of FortnnatuB. Despite Uhland's playful protestation of 
fidelity to his source, there ar many changes; style, teohnic, and 
spirit have little resemblance to those of the source. Discussion of 

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Uhland's probable intentions with reference to the unfinisht portion. 
Elements of romanticism. Significance of the poem in Uhland's 
poetic development.] 

36. ''Orid and the Spanish Renascence." By Professor Rudolph 
Schevill, of the University of California. 

[The continuity of the influence of Ovid after the Middle Ages; 
the indetednes of fiction to the An amaioria, the Amorea, and the 
Metamorphoses; the caracter of Spanish versions of Ovid; his 
influence upon Cervantes.] 

37. '"The Traditional Ballads of the Cumberland Mountains." 
By Professor Hubert Gibson Sbearin, of Transylvania College, 
Lexington, Ky. 

[An attempt to present tipical folk-songs chosen from a collection 
of over one hundred: — ^Ballads of British origin, about thirty; 
ballads of the American Colonial period; ballads of the Civil War; 
ballads based upon contemporary feuds, murders, robberies, etc.; 
ballads of love and domestic life; ballads of the supernatural; 
ballads based upon recent migration westward; the humorus ballad; 
the bestiary. The folk-songs and society — ^the "frolicking"; music, 
the '' dulcimore " ; composition and transmission; versification, 
slntax, folk-etimology, arcaic vocabulary, etc] 

38. '' The Philological Legend of Cynewulf ," By Professor Fred- 
erick Tupper, Jr., of the University of Vermont. [To appear in 
Publioaiions zxvi, 2.] 

[A product of empirical methods. Fallacies of "local habitation 
and name." The misleading e-i canon of date. The so-called "ten 
indications" of Northumbrian origin. Questionable Anglian survi- 
vals in rimes, in forms of the verb, in vocabulary. Cynewulfs 
place in the spurious chronology of Old English poems. The Lin- 
disfame romance. Urgent need of an open-mindednes that demands 
clear proofs.] 

39. "Tendencies of Neo-Romanticism as exemplified in Hof- 
mannsthal." By Mr. Fritz Winther, of the University of California. 

[The bold relief into which this Neo-Romanticist has elaborated 
the Renaissance caracter is fully apparent when we compare his 
patricians with those of French classicism, who possess dignity 
without passion, or with figures of the Shakespearean theatre, who 
exhibit passion without dignity. By the synthesis of self-command 

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with unbridled passion, Hofmannsthal satisfies a craving of the 
spirit of our time flowing in Nietzschean courses. On the one hand, 
he does not give us the passion, too brutal for the sensitive modem, 
of naturalism; on the other hand, he is not, like Bicarda Huch, 
too ethereal for a public hardend by BimpUoiasimua : he shrinks as 
little as Zola from the phisiologically painful, but he ennobles the 
ugly by the stile in which he clothes it; he is therefore congenial 
to the Renaissance and an exponent of our era.] 

40. "Phillippe de M^^re's Dramatic Office of the PreamUUion. 
of the Blessed Virgin Mary." By Professor Karl Young, of the 
University of Wisconsin. [See Publications, xxvi, 1.] 

[Tho now publisht for the first time, this document, found in a 
manuscript of the fourteenth century, was long ago pronounst ^un 
dociunent des plus pr^cieux pour lliistoiTe de la mise en aoftne." 
It is a dramatic offis connected with the Mass of the Festum Prae- 
sentationis Beatae Virginis Mariae in Templo (November 21 >. The 
text describes in accurate detail the costiunes of tweniy-two persons, 
the stage erected in the nave of the church, and the action thmout.] 

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The sixteenth annual meeting of the Central Division 
of the Modem Language Aseociation of America was held 
at Washington University, Saint Louis, Missouri, De- 
cember 28, 29, and 30, 1910. The sessions of December 
28 and 30 were held in Mary Institute, Lake and McPher- 
son AvenueSs; those of December 29 in University Hall, 
on the University Campus. Professor Laurence Fossler, 
Chairman of the Central Division, presided at all the 


The Central Division met at 2.45 p. m. The Chairman 
appointed the following committees: 

(1) To nominate oflBcers: Professors H. M. Belden, 
A. de Salvio, G, H. Meyer, F. A. Blackburn, and J. M. 

(2) On place of meeting: Professors H. A. Smith, P. 
M. Buck, Jr., W. W. Florer, J. M. Clapp, and W. A. 

A letter from a committee of The Bibliographical 
Society of America was read by Professor A. C. von Nofi, 
asking that a committee be appointed to cooperate with 
its committee " To investigate the scope and method of 
special bibliographies, to consider remedies for unneces- 
sary duplication, and to advise means of extending the 
efficiency of the bibliographies already in existence." 

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The appointment of a representative of the Central Di- 
vision on the proposed oommittee was authorized^ and 
Dr. John S. NoUen, President of Lake Forest Collegei 
was chosen as such representative. 

The reading of papers was then begun. 

1. " The Relation of Dryden^s Esswy on Dramatic 
Poesie to Lessing with Special Reference to the Seven- 
teenth LiteraturbfiefJ^ By Professor Milton D. Baum- 
gartner, of the University of Nebraska. 

[The purpose of this paper was to sketch brieflj Leasing's first 
introduction to Dryden thru Voltaire; also GottschedVs partial 
translation of Dryden's Eaaay from Bocage's French translation pre- 
vious to that of Lessing, and then give the evidence of dose rela- 
tionship between the Essay and the Liieraiurhrief such as: date, 
identical arguments in favor of English dramatic supremacy, enu- 
meration of the same English dramatists, common emi^asis of 
Gomeille's weakness, and proclamation of Shakspere's genius.— 
Twenty niinutes,^ 

2. " Aristotle's Doctrine of Katharsis and the Positive 

or Constructive Activity Involved.^' By Professor Arthur 

Henry Rolph Fairchild, of the University of Missouri. 

[Aristotle's definition of tragedy and his doctrine of katharsis; 
the several interpretations; their negative charsuster; katharsis in- 
volves a positive or constructive activity; Hamlet as an illustration; 
tragedy in general; some implications. — Twenty minutes.l 

This paper was discust hy Professors J. T. Hatfield 
and L. Fossler. 

3. " Some Observations upon Weltliteratur.'^ By Pro- 
fessor Philipp Seiberth, of Washington University. 

[The idea of Weltliteratur is to-day a well defined and fully 
established part of our literary culture. The paper attempted to 
show some special aspects of tiie growth and final import of the 
idea in the eighteenth century. — Fifteen minutes,] 

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4. ^^ The Eodesiastioal Element in the Bomanic Lan- 
guages.^^ By Professor Winthrop Holt Chenery, of 
Washington University. 

[The paper did not aim to present a history of the church voca^ 
bulary in the speech of southern Europe. It purposed rather to 
study, by tracing the developrntooit of typical examples^ certain 
phases of semantic evolution, as exhibited in the growth and trans- 
formation of the ecclesiastical terminology. — Fifteen minutea,] 

5. " Streckformen — Heinrich Schroder nnd die Eiri- 

tik." By Professor Ernst Voss, of the University of 


[Heinrich Schrdders Eritik an den Methoden und ErklArungs- 
versuchen, die man bei W5rtem angewandt hat^ welche gegen das 
germanische Betonungsgesetz anscheinend verstossen. Seine neue 
Formulierung dieses Qesetzes und Behaghels sogenanntes deutsches 
Akzentgesetz. SchrOders Arbeit fiber Streckformen und seine Eriti- 
ker, Kluge, Behaghel, K5vi, und August Gebhardt. — Twenty minutea.] 

This paper was discust by Professors J. (Joebel, L. 
Bloomfield, P. Seiberth, O. Heller, L. Fossler, and the 


At half-past eight o^dock in the evening Professor 
Laurence Fossler, Chairman of the Central Division, de- 
livered an address on the subject, " Can the Standard of 
Efficiency of Modem Language Listruction in Secondary 
Schools be Eaised?" 

After the address a reception was held for the members 
and guests of the Central Division in the gymnasium of 
Mary Institute. 


The Central Division met at 10.15 «. m. The session 
was opened by an address of welcome by Chancellor David 

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Franklin Houston, of Washington University. Chancel- 
lor Houston spoke in part as follows: 

I have filwajB felt a certain degree of sympathy for a 
teacher of language. His task is difScnlt, and public 
appreciation of his work is rarely exlubited. His is not 
a dramatic activity. It does not strike the public imagi- 
nation. . . . But nevertheless the work belongs to that 
class of fundamental things without which no other good 
work can be eflSciently done. ... 

My sympathy has especially followed the teacher of 
English in this country. Familiarity with one's own lan- 
guage perhaps breeds contempt for it. It is certainly 
true that it is the most difficult of all subjects to present 
satisfactorily to a student body, and perhaps (the results of 
the teaching of no other subject are so severely criticized 
by the public The difficulty is fundamental, and is 
rarely recognized. It may be true that the average stu- 
dent to-day does not use as good English as the average 
student of a few generations ago ; but this is not the fault 
of the teacher. The teaching has improved vastly in its 
method and content. The fact which is seldom recognized 
is that we are attempting a very different thing. Then 
it was aristocracy that had to be educated, to-day it is 
democrac;^; then a student had a considerable familiarity 
from home surroundings with correct speech and good 
literature, to-day the equipment with which the pupil 
approaches the formal part of his training is pitifully 
meagre, on the average. To make a good writer of Eng- 
lish and lover of literature of an individual is difficult, 
unless the beginning was made with his grandfather. The 
task is difficult, and the problem is one that admits of no 
easy solution. It is the problem of " smoothing a rough 
people by slow degrees," as the poet phrases it. 

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The problem is not essentially different with the modem 
foreign languages. • . . Our country has been gradually 
evolving out of the extreme provincialism which has so 
long characterized its outlook and thinking. Its touch 
with the world is becoming more intimate. People are 
beginning to realize that there is something abroad which 
they may study to advantage, and that the languages of 
a number of foreign peoples contain vast stores of litera- 
ture and a vast mass of information which they need. 

The problem before you is a constructive one. You 
must guarantee that your subjects shall be taught with 
the same effective disciplinary methods as the older and 
better established subjects, and it seems to me that you 
must labor to secure provision from the public for the 
introduction of these subjects in their proper place in the 
school curricula. ... If I may venture a suggestion, I 
would say that this Association can render no better ser- 
vice than to bend its efforts to secure a fuller provision 
for the teaching of modem foreign language, not only in 
the private secondary school but also in the public from 
the earliest possible stages. • • . Those higher institutions 
in peculiar legal touch with the school systems, namely, 
the state universities, have it within their power effectively 
to foster sound educational principles in this direction 
in the systems with which they are in close relation. 

The Secretary of the Central Division, Charles Bundy 
Wilson, read a communication from Professor W. G. 
Howard, the Treasurer of the Association, urging the im- 
portance of establishing a permanent fund for the Asso- 
ciation, and in behalf of the Treasurer he presented the 
following motions: 

1. That a committee of two be appointed by the Chair to cooperate 

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with three membere to be i^pointed hj the President of the Abso- 
eiatioii in meaaurea looking p^ tlva accumulation of a |^nnaoant 
fund for the Aesocia^ion. 

2. That there be referred for action to the next union meeting 
and publisht with the notice of that meeting as a lubject for 
action thereat: 

A Beoonunendation to the Executive Coiincil to appoint three 
trustees upon terms that shall give effect to the following prin- 
ciples, to wit: 

a) The trusteee ahall receive and hold all uniestrleted gilti, all 
payn^nts of forty dollars or over ^oi" li^^ membership, and 
all bequests dnd legacies to the Association which are not 
restricted to particular uses by the will of the testator. 

h) The trustees shall keep intact the principal of all sums 
entrusted to them ^nd shall inrest it ^t their discretion; 
provided, however, ^bat if at any time the Association 
should be dissolved, the trustees shall then give and pay 
over to the trustees of the Carnegie F^imdation for the 
Advano^nent of Teaxdiing all mouflys, principal and in- 
terest, and all rights, properties, and evidences of property 
by them held in trust for the benefit of th}s Association. 

c) The trustees shall annually on the third Monday in January 
pay the net income of all trust funds In their kaeping to 
the Treasurer of the A'38Q<^ation lof the general uaes 

3. That members of the Association be and they hereby are 
inrited to signify to the oommittee aforesaid: 

a) Their willingness to eontlibute to a permanent fund lor tha 

Association, if such a fu;i4 be established; 
h) Their willingness to become life m^nbers, and on what terms. 

4. That the Treasurer be authorised to receive and hi^d con* 
tributions to a permanent fnnd until tms^^Q^f avo appointed to 
receive them, or, in case trustees should not be appointed in the 
year 1912, subject to the order of the Executive Council. 

The general plan as set forth in these motions was 
approved, and the appointment of a committee of two was 
authorized in aoeordanoe with the first motion. Professors 
J. W. Cimliflfe and A. F. Kuersteiner were appointed to 
serve as such committee. 

The reading of papers was then resumed. 

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PBOcsBDnrcMi 9(« 1910 xU 

6. '^The Form of Doctor FawtusJ^ By Professor 

Elbert If. 8. Thompson^ of the State Uniyersitj of Iowa. 

[Sdiolars In general agree that an Kiglish translatton of tiie 
German Volkabuch of 1587 gave Marlowe material for DofflOf 
f^^8tu9. ft was the purpose of this pj^per to sbow that |u8 liMd- 
ling of this material waa detenmned to a marked d^preQ hj \dM 
i»<niliari^ with th^ English moral play, an4 to indip^t^ ^^ P7^ 
eioeljT ^ |K>8sible the p^tnre of his irelationsh^p with t)id ^Idar 
dramatists. — Tt<w<y mtnii^.J 

Tliis paper was di80u«t by Fr<^essar J. L. Lovea and 
the author. 

7. " Crestiea's and Wolfram's Description of tjie GraU 
Castle." By Professor William Albert Nitze, of the Uni- 
v^^sity of Chicaga 

(The paper sought to shov that the Irish 9aiiqiietiBg SaU waa 
the definite model upon which the authors worthed- Wolfram abowi 
clearer traces of the Celtic original than Crestien; a fact which may 
be of importance in determining Wolfram's original. (The evmplete 
paper will appear in the volume of ftudiea about to be publiaht 
yf^ honor of th^ late Professor A. Marshall fllUott).— A (rHif 

This paper was disonst by Dr. H. S. V. Jones and the 

8. ^^Two Kotea: (a) UAUegro and The Pasmonate 

Bhepheard; (b) The * eorofonea two ' in the Second Nun^s 

JPofo." By Professor John LiTingston Lowes, of Wash* 

ington University. 

[(a) A brief discussion of what seems to be an OTerlooked influ- 
ence upon VA^9gnkf (b) T!i« i^mholism of the ctoimt of lilies and 
roses, as it appears in the Bermones Aurei of Jacobus de Voragine, 
%»d its )>eafipg 11^911 tha Mt{fti« mii^ gl the f^iy.— fpfi»«y 

This paper was diseust by Professors H. If. Belden, P. 
A. Blackburn and the author. 

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9. " Forsoningen in Tegner's Fritiofssaga.'' By Pro- 
feflfior Albert Morey Sturtevant, of the University of Kan- 
sas. Eead by Professor William Herbert Carruth, of the 
University of Kansas. 

[The purpose was to point out the connection in thought and 
language between the canto Foraoningen and four of Tegner's 
previous poems: namely, Fridardaier (1808), Tr&den (1813), Natt- 
vardsbaren (1820) and Epilog vid magiaterpromotionen i Lund 
(1820). Tegner's religious views were discust with especial refer- 
ence to the relation of God to man and to the orthodox conception 
of Vicarious Atonement. Passages were quoted from all four poems, 
which are identical in thought and correspond almost word for word 
with certain passages in the Fritiofssaga. The article purported to 
clarify Tegner's religious views and to give an appreciative analysis 
of their expression in poetry. — Twenty minutea.^ 

On motion of the chairman of the committee on place 
of meeting, the Secretary was instructed to send to Pro- 
fessor C. H. Grandgent, the Secretary of the Association, 
a telegram to the effect that the Central Division was 
willing to leave the decision as to a place for the union 
meeting in 1911 to the Executive Council, but that the 
Division would gladly accept the invitation of Chicago, 
if that met the approval of the Association. [A telegram 
was sent as directed.] 

At half-past twelve o'clock on Thursday, December 29, 
the members and guests of the Central Division were 
entertained at luncheon in Tower Hall, on the University 


TMs ses^on, which was held Thursday afternoon in 
the rooms of University Hajl, on the University Campus, 
was devoted to three departmental meetings, representing 

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PB00BSDIN08 POB 1910 xliH 

English, Glermanic, and Bomanoe languages and litera- 
tures. Subjects of importance to the advancement of 
instruction were discust 


Chairman — Professor Miller Moore Fogg, of the Uni- 
versity of Nebraska; Secretary pro tempore — ^Professor 
Charles Henry Gray, of the University of Kansas. 

The committee of five appointed at the last meeting — 
Professors F. G, Hubbard, J. M. Thomas, A. B. Noble, 
H. G. Paul, and E. M. Hopkins — to ascertain certain 
facts with regard to English composition teaching, pre- 
sented its report by its chairman. Professor Hopkins of 
the University of Kansas. This report gave in detail 
accurate and specific information, fumisht by more than 
a thousand teachers, upon points the following of which 
were emphasized as of special importance: 

That English oompoflition is not only a fundamental and 
saiy subject but is also a laboratory subject, requiring besides 
oral training much practice in writing, which should average about 
400 words a week for high school pupils and 650 for college fresh- 
men; and for proper attention from instructors should take not lest 
than an hour of time for each 2000 words in high schools and 
2200 in colleges, under average conditions. 

That while eye and brain and nervous system can endure on the 
average barely two hours a day of theme reading with continued 
maintenance of health and efficiency, under present average con- 
ditions composition teachers must either spend from 25 to 30 hours 
a week (reported maximum 75 hours) in reading themes, and take 
the physical consequences often ending in permanent and serious 
injury, or else slight their work or leave it in proportionate part 

That under these conditions a majority of composition teachers 
either regret their choice of profession or hold it through resolve to 
sacrifice health and personal ambition to the interests of their 

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That the principal reasons for their discouragement are theses 
(a) It is physically impossible to secure reasonably satisfactory 
results, since theii- wotk is from 50 to 150 per cent greater than 
that required of other instructors. (I) Im 25 per cent of the 
schools reporting, their pay is less, (o) The drain upon mental 
and physical vitality rapidly depreciates efficiency, {d) Adequate 
reading and scholarship and maintenance of professional standing 
are commonly impossible. (0) The facts herein stated are com- 
monly disbelieved ot disregarded by school officers and adminis- 
trators, when brought to their attention. 

That the work of a composition teacher should be measured by 
the number of students in his classes, only incidentally by the 
number of his class recitation hours; and that under favorable 
eonditiona this number should not exceed •ight7 for high schools 
and sixty for college freshman classes. 

Tne report was discust by Professors F*. A. Blackburn^ 
J. M. Clap, P. IL Buck, Jr., F. G. Hubbard, E. M. 
fiopkins, J. li. Lowes, E. C. Baldwin, H. S. V. Jones, 
J. it. Thomas, tt. M. Belden, R. W. Brown, and D. L. 
I'bomas. On motion of Professor Lowes it was adopted; 
and the committee was contanued for one year with in- 
structions to publish it in full, to gather additional infor- 
mation^ and to make further report 

Gbbkanio Lakoitaqeb. 

Chairman — Professor Julius Qoebel, of the tTniverstty 
of Illinois. 

The meeting was called to order at 2.45 p. m. Pro^ 
fessor Alexander R. Hohlfeld, of the TJnirersity of Wis- 
consin, made an interesting and helpful address on the 
subject, " The Survey of German Literature.** Professor 
Hohlfeld spoke from wide experience and acquaintance 
with material availaMe for such a course. The address 
Wought out an animated discussion by Professors A. C* 

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von Noe, J. T, Hatfield, J. Goebel, P. Seiberth, W. W. 
Florer, O. Heller, T. L. Blayney, W. H. Camith, and 
the speaker. 

Professor Otto Heller, of Washington University, read 
a paper entitled, " Some Considerations on Curme's A 
Orammar of the Oerman LcmguageJ^ Professor Heller 
exprest regret at the absence of Professor Curme. He 
urged that the invaluable service rendered by this work 
should be requited by the willingness of Gtermani&ts and 
teachers of Gterman to cooperate with the author toward 
the improvement of the book, and he offered suggestions 
as to emendations. A spirited discussion followed, partici- 
pated in by Professors E. Voss, J. Goebel, P. Seiberth, 
A. C. von Noe> E. Leser, A. R. Hohlfeld, and the reader. 

Romance Language;^. 

ChairmatL — ^Professor Albert Frederick Euersteiner, 
of Indiana Universityr. 

The meeting was called to order at 2.45 p. m. 

Professor Stephen Hayes Bush, of the State Univer- 
sity of Iowa, read a paper on the subject, " The Teaching 
of French Literature to Undergraduates.*^ He advocated 
an appreciative ratJier than an historical study of litera- 
ture. The discussion of the paper was spirited. It was 
led by Professor George D. Morris and continued by Pro- 
fessors F. C. L. van Steenderen, W. A. Nitze, H. A. 
Smith, L. P. Shanks, D. H. Camahan, and Mr. G. Cavie- 

Professor Hiram P. Williamson, of the University of 
Chicago, presented an informal paper on the subject, ^^ The 

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•Teaching of Modem Languages in France." He was f ol- 
loed by Professor Charles Qt>ettsch, of the University of 
Chicago, with a paper on " A Visit to the Musterschule 
at Frankfurt am Main." Both speakers pointed out that 
the " direct method " is now insisted upon in France and 
Germany. A few questions from the chairman and others 
brought out the fact that the age of the pupils in both 
countries is much below the high school age in America. 
On account of the lateness of the hour, the discussion was 
necessarily very brief, and for 'the same reason, it was 
decided to postpone until some future meeting the reading 
of a paper on " The Substitution of Spanish for French 
in our Secondary Schools," which had been prepared for 
this meeting and sent to the chairman by Professor Henry 
Xe Daum, of the State University of North Dakota. 

At half-past eight on the evening of Thursday, 
December 29, the gentlemen of the Central Division were 
entertained at a smoker at Washii^ton Hotel, Eangs- 
highway and Washington Boulevard. The Eev. Dr. W. 
C. Bitting gave an informal talk. 


The session began at 10.00 a* m. 

The nominating committee reported the following nom- 
inations, and, in view of the fact that the meeting of 1911 
will be a union meeting, the committee recommended that 
the persons named be elected for two years. 

Chairman: Frank Gaylord Hubbard, of the University 
of Wisconsin. 

Executive Committee: Laurence Fossler, of the Uni- 

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PB00BEDIN08 FOB 1910 xlvii 

Versity of Nebraska ; Frederick Klaeber, of the University 
of Minnesota; F. C. L. van Steenderen, of Lake Forest 

The persons nominated were unanimously elected as 
recommended. [The secretary, Charles Bundy Wilson, 
of the State XJniverBity of Iowa, holds over, having been 
reelected in 1908 for a term of four years, 1909-1912.] 

The committee on place of meeting presented the follow- 
ing report in accordance with the telegram ordered sent 
to the Secretary of the Association: 

The Central Division is willing to leave the decision as to a 
place for the union meeting of 1911 to the Executive Council, but 
would gladly accept the invitation of Chicago if this meets the 
approval of the Association. 

This report was unanimously adopted. 

The following resolutions with regard to the late Pro- 
fessor Lewis A. Rhoades, which had been prepared by 
Professor James Taft Hatfield who had been appointed 
a committee for that purpose, were read by the Secretary, 
and were unanimously adopted by a standing vote: 

The Central Division of the Modem Language Association of 
America pauses for a moment during the work of its sixteenth 
annual meeting to pay its tribute of respect and affection to an 
honored colleague, Lewis A. Rhoades, whose companionship has been 
withdrawn during the year which is now closing. 

The members of this Division desire to record their appreciation 
of his generous and large-hearted humanity, which made him a 
beloved friend as well as an efficient associate. His services to 
modem language studies were varied and substantial, undertakoi 
in a broad and scholarly spirit, and will continue to exert an 
Influence toward raising the ideals of that profession to which he 
was faithfully devoted. 

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itlyiii MODSBir lakguaob association 

Th0 Oentt'al Division instrncti iU Secretarj to trmiumit thfise 
resoluUoiui to Mrs. Hhoades with the assitranoe of its deep and 
sincere sympathy, and to enter them upon the minutes of this 
meeting. [A copy of these resolutions was subsequently sent td 
Mrs. Rhoades.] 

The following resolutions with reference to the late 
Professor John E. Matzke were presented by Ptofessor 
Albert Frederidk Knersteiner, and were unanimously 
adopted by a standing vote: 

The sudden death of Professor Matske was a grief to so many of 
us^ and his devotion to the studies represented by this Association 
was BO ardent that it is fitting that we do honor to his memory. 

John E. Matske was bom in 1862 in Breslau, Germany. At an 
early age he came to America, where he received most of his 
advanced schooling. After graduating from Hope College, he entei^ 
the Johns Hopkins Universily, and there devoted himself to the 
study of the Romance languages. After receiving his degree, he 
taught at Bowdoin College, at Indiana University, and in 1893 was 
called to the Leland Stanford Junior University, to which he gave 
his services during the rest of his life. In September of this year 
he went to Mexico as the representative of his institution at the 
centennial celebration. He left California full of hopes and plans 
for the future, and seemingly in the best of health. While he waft 
In Mexico City a cor^ral hemorrhage suddenly carried him otf. 

His name deserves to live among us. The deep interest which 
he showed in his work was rewarded by the respect of his students 
and colleagues, and whed the t^hilological Association ot the Pacific 
Coast was founded in 1899, he was its first secretary. The school 
texts which he edited and the many scientific articles and books 
that he contributed markt him as one of the foremost scholars 
Of this country. 

Be it therefore resolved. 

That we, the members of the Central Division of the Modem 
Language Association of America, hereby express our hi^ appre- 
ciation of Professor Matsske's scholarship and services, and our 
admiration for his personal qualities $ 

That the secretary be instructed to communicate these resolutions 
to the bereav^ family as an assuianoe of our deep sympathy; and 

That a copy of these resolutions be spread ut>on fhe minutes ot 
this meeting. [A copy of these resolutions was subdequently sent 
to Professor Matcke's family.] 

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PBOCBBDmoS FOB 1910 xlut 

Professor Frank (Jaylord Hubbard presented the follow- 
ing report for tbe oommittee on the reproduction of early 

The efforts of the committee during the past year have been 
nuUnly directed towards securing the publieaUon of a facsimile 
r^roduetion of the Gaedmon hb. in the Bodleian Library. In 
Meordance with the resolution passed at the last meeting of the 
Eastern Divmion, a circular was issued inviting subscriptions, and 
forty-nine were obtained from the United States and Canada, in 
addition to a smaller number abroad. The conditions imposed by 
the Oxford University Press seemed to be in a fair way for fulfill- 
ment, when it was discovered that these conditions were differently 
nndsretood by your Committee and by the Press. At the suggestion 
•f the Secretary to the Press the Oommittee turned their subscrip- 
tion list over to him, and satii^actory assurances have since been 
received from him that the reproduction will be issued, possibly as 
a memorial to the late Dr. Fumivall. 












H; A. Todd. 

The report was approved. 

Professor Hermann Almstedt, in behalf of a joint 
oommittee representing the Germanic and Romance Sec- 
tions, read the following report : 

lb the Centra! Division of the Modem Language Association of 

Tour Joint eommittee appointed at the towa City meeting last 
year " To consider the question of revising the Report of the Com- 
mittee of Twelve" begs leave to submit the following report: 

We are in hearty agreement with the reasons and motives that 
led to the adoption of the Report of the Committee of Twelve. It 
was the first step in the right direction. We are of the opinion, 
however, that the Report of the Committee of 1>s7elve needs a 
revision, and this for the following reasons: 

1. The last ten years have witnest a remarkable growth in the 

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Btudy of modem languages. New conditions have arisen in the liglit 
of which the old report should receive a restatement 

2. In the light of present ideals, as exprest by the resolutions 
of the modem language meetings in our several states, by publi* 
cations, and by personal expression of those deeply interested, the 
old report does not adequately represent the consensus of opinion. 

3. The great emphasis on reading and getting to an early study 
of literature has worked out harmful to language discipline; it has 
encouraged poorly prepared teachers to turn out poorly prepared 
students. We reiterate the position of the old report that lan- 
guages are means, but we firmly believe that as means even, th^ 
should receive more direct vital attention than at present. It is 
just in this respect that the old report needs most careful and 
searching revision. 

Your committee therefore, in view of the reasons given above, 
begs leave to submit an afllrmative answer to the question of a 
revision of the Report of the Committee of Twelve. 

Hermann Almstedt, 
Chairman of Committee of GermwMO Seotion, 

T. Atkinson Jenkins, 
Chairman of Committee of Romance Section. 
St. Louis, Mo., 
Dec. 30, 1910. 

On motion of Professor Almstedt, this report was 
adopted, as was likewise the following resolution: 

Resolved, that a copy of this report be sent to the Secre- 
tary of the Association with the urgent request that a 
similar joint committee be appointed at once to cooperate 
in the work of revision of the Beport of the Committee 
of Twelve, so that at next year's union meeting the revised 
Report may be acted upon. [A copy of the report and 
resolution was sent to the Secretary of the Association 
as directed.] 

Professor ^rank Gaylord Hubbard presented the follow- 
ing resolution: 

Resolved, That the members of the Central Division of the 

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Modem Laiigaage Assooiation of America deBire to express to the 
Chancellor and Faculty of Washington University, to the members 
of the Language and Literature Club of Washington University^ 
to the University Club of Saint Louis, and to the members of the 
Local Committee, their hearty appreciation of the generous hospi- 
tality extended to them during the sixteenth annual meeting of 
the Division, hospitality warm and cordial in spirit, and thought- 
fully perfect in detail. 

The resolution was enthusiastically adopted. 

The Secretary read a telegram from the Secretary of 
the Association^ which was in convention assembled in 
New York, conveying to the Central Division the cordial 
greetings of the Association. 

A representative of a committee on entrance require- 
ments in mathematics and science of The American Fed- 
eration of Teadiers of the Mathematical and the ITatural 
Sciences was given the privilege of the floor. He re- 
commended, among other things, "That we urge the 
colleges to abandon the 'unit system,' and in its place 
to accept the certificate of the high school, at its face value 
for such work as it covers, and permit this to entitle the 
student to take such college work as his preparation may 
warrant, whenever the certificate stands for four years of 
systematic and thorough training in a good high school." 
A motion authorizing the appointment of a committee of 
three to take this matter under advisement was lost. 

The reading of papers was then resumed. 

10. "The Order of Stories in the Sept Sages de Rome/* 
By Professor Hugh Allison Smith, of the XJniversity of 

[In editing a Terse manuscript of the Bevm 8<Mge$, the editor has 

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■eeured some new inlonnation on the order of storiM im the ^ttM 
TerBions. With this aid a general theory was proposed to cKplain 
the different order in the varionB French Tersions, both verso and 
prose. The theory is of interest espesially with regard to its beajr* 
Ing on the c^ucstion of the oral transmission of this ooUeotiom ia 
Its early history in French. — Ti^eniy nUnutm.'] 

11. "A Suggestion for a New Edition of Butlcr^s 
Hvdibras." !Py Professor j;4vard Chauncey Baldwin, 
of the University of Illinois. 

[To reeeiio HudiMt from th^ Hirfect ap4 obliTW |Bt^ wM* i* 
s^ms in danger of la)Ux)g, aa a result of having been filast ^ 
simply a political satirQ, would he a wort)iy task. In ouch fxi 
edition the value of Butler's prose duupocten in explaining the 
author's satiric method, and in explaining tha alhuiong is tii6 text 
should not be overlookt. Tho ihey have been hitherto wholly 
neglected, tbey are found upon examination to furnish ai^ illiuni- 
nating commentary )>otl^ upon the fiuthor's method of work and 
upon the text itself. — Ten-minute ahatrscf,} 

18, "(Joetbe'a QeAeinwwe/' By Pyolepior SvHim 
Qoebel, of the University of Illinois. 

[▲ study in the origin of the poem with the view of arviriBg l4 
# BOW interpretation o| its oei|tr^ idea.-r-7i«ien<|^ fnil!l^tm.] 

13. "The English Morality Defined.'' By Profossqr. 

W. Roy Mackenzie, of Washington University. 

(The present definitions of the Morality are misleading, a|i4 ^^ 
\>e shown to fail in their application to the plays themselves. A 
definition that really covers the aubject must take into consideration 
the methods of allegory in general a^id tlso ip thdr p^rtfonlaf 
relrtion to the Moralises. — Twenty minutee.^ 


The session ])^gaii at 8,^5 P^ »• The Trading ^ pitpew 
was continued. 

14. *'The Authorship of The Spoyle of Antwerpe 

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PBOOXBDUrCMI 90B 1910 H|i 

(Nov. 1570)." By Profeasor John William Ounliffe, of 
the University of Wisconsin. Eead by Professor Frank 
Gayloyd Pubbwr4, of the Umversity of WifleojisiB. 

[AtUiough a Q^orge GMcoigiie was kaown to be tlie autlior o( 
this foioiiyizipus ifac^ h|8 identity with thQ poet was questioned 
on the grounds of the latter^s in health in May, 1576 (Epistle 
Dedicatory to The Droomme of Doom0§ Dsy) j his inteatiaii, dedaied 
in 4ilgH9t (|$pi«ti# Pedkfitory to 4 ^^Hot^te fH^t, for Mi^^ 
«io#4M4 Pr ^} (\qtr 4e§) to b^ ill Bedfordshire at the end of Septem- 
bet, wb^ tbe writer of the panph^H is (oiowa to have been abroad} 
aa4 ^be death of ^e poet m Oct^ 1677, ^ identity of the pam- 
phmeer ami tbe poet is proved \>j a comparison of two signatorea 
of the |of9^er tO letters iff the Publiq Becord OfQo^ date4 Sept. 16 
and Oct 7 respectively, 1676, with the known signature of the 
poet Gasooigne to the prefatory letter of The Tale of ffmnetef^ the 
Eeremyte, dated Jan. 1, 1676, and found in Royal MS. 18 A xlviii 
in the British Museum. (The paper, with facsimile signatures, is 
to be published in the |fo<|erti Lan^uqqe Review), — Tioenty mtn- 

15. '^ Modem Elements in Luther's Educational Ideas." 
By Professor Warren Washburn Florer, of the University 
of Michigan. 

[An attempt to restate Luth^s positioa in tke histoty ol edu< 
cation in the light of the modem reform movements. — Ten mmmteeJ} 

Thia paper wu diacuat by Prafoaoor L. Foaaler. 

16. '* The CSerk of Qxenford.'* By Dr. Harrie Stuart 

Vedder .Tones, of the University of Illinois, 

(The usual assumption that Chaueer's Olerk waa a mandieamt 
sabolar is aot justiM ettha? by Ghauctr's laiguaga or bgp what 
we know of Oslord life ia the fourteealh eenlmy. There is soma 
reason to think that Chaucer had in mind particularly a scholar 
at Marton Ck>lIife.^Ti#«iily mmkte$,} 

This paper was discust by Professor J. L. Loiveo. 

17. ^' The Dialeet of Baailieata." By Profenor Al- 
fonso de Salvio, of the Northwestern University. 

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[Topography; phonological development: spedmens. A short 
Bummary indicating the plan of the work. — Bight minutea,'] 

18. " The Modem Languages as a Cultural Factor in 
the College Curriculum." By Professor T. Lindsey 
Blayney, of the Central University of Kentucky, Vice- 
President of the American Federation of Arts. 

[The modem languages as cultural disciplines; attitude of the 
public; fundamental mistakes; collegiate versus university courses; 
dangers threatening collegiate work; sciences versus humanities; col- 
lege reform; rdle of modern languages; therein grave responsibiUty 
of instructors; example of ancient languages; aesthetic and spiritual 
values; instructors, their training and ideals. — Ttoenty minutea.H 

, The Central Division adjourned at 4.20 p. m. 


The following papers, presented to the Central Division, 
were read by title only: 

19. "Poetic Modifications of Limhus InfcMtum." By Professor 
Fletcher Briggs, of the Iowa State Oollege of Agriculture and 
Mechanic Arte. 

[In certain modem German poems there appears a noteworthy 
similarity in the idealizations of this early Ghristiaa conception. 
Mollifying the dogma of eternal danmation or relegation to limbo 
for the souls of unbaptized children, Klopstock {Meaaiae, 1, 670 ff.) 
represents them inside the earth, while Stolberg {Der Trtiwn, 1, 
28 ff.) and Brentano (Romanzen von dem RoBenkrane, XIX, 21 ff.) 
represent them on the moon; and such bespeak for them later 
immortality in heaven* The development of this conception is inter- 
esting in its relation to idealism in German literature.] 

20. "The Sociological Novel in England at the End of the 
Eighteenth Century." By Professor John Mantel Glapp, of Lak» 
Forest College. 

[In English prose fiction between 1780 and 1800 certain tendencies 
of nineteenth century novels become prominent The magasineB of 

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the time mention and criticise over eleven hundred works of prose 
fiction, and more than two hundred fiction-writers of these decades 
are considered worthy of notice in the Dictionary of National 
Biography. Perhaps the most striking feature of the period is the 
development of the Sociological Novel, shown not so much by the 
number of works written primarily as political or social tracts, 
which are few, although notable, as by the general employment 
of sociological motifs as a secondary source of interest in fiction 
designed for popular consumption. This is a characteristic alike 
of the four hundred, or so, tales of Domestic Manners, which are 
modelled upon Richardson or Fanny Bumey, and of the two hundred, 
or so, sentimentally romantic tales which follow Sterne and Mac- 

21. "Luther's Attitude toward the Teaching of Languages." By 
Professor Warren Washbume Florer, of the Universtiy of Michigan. 

[This paper contains a detailed statement of Luther's idea of 
the necessity of language study and of the methods which should 
be employed in teaching languages in order to bring about the best 
results, taking the ability of the pupils, the course of study, the 
recent linguistic research, and the ultimate vocation of the pupils 
into consideration.] 

22. "German Estimate of Novalis from 1800 to 1860." By Dr. 
John Fred Haussmann, of the University of Wisconsin. 

[The members of the older Romantic School consider Novalis a 
mystic, a divine being, a tragic person, a ghost-seer, a new Christ. 
Schelling and Jean Paul do not share the enthusiasm of their con- 
temporaries for the young poet; they maintain a rather critical 
attitude toward him. The poets of the so-called " Spfttromantik " 
show great admiration for him, with the possible exception of Amim 
and Brentano. Young Germany, Hebbel, and Grilparzer had neither 
understanding nor sympathy for Novalis. Among the older histor- 
ians of German literature, Vilmar has contributed much toward a 
higher conception of him; Menzel and Gervinus, on the other hand^ 
show a decided antipathy toward him. The same is true of Hettner.] 

23. "Proposed Classification of the Roman d'Aventure." By 
Professor Julius William Kuhne, of Miami University. 

[The proposed classification consists of three groups: 
I. (a) Love, separation and reunion, with the element aven- 
ture predominate; iype, Floire et Blanohefleur; thirteen 


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(b) Same motives, with the element aventure subordimite; 
type, I lie et Oaleron; six romans. 
n. (a) Persecutions of a falsely accused woman; type Le 
Comte de Poitiera; eight romans. 

(b) Persecutions of a falsely accused woman defending 
her chastity; type, Manekine; four romans. 
III. Adulterous wife; type, Chatelain de Couoy; five romans.] 

24. " Luther's Translation of the Psalms." By Mr. Edward Henry 
Lauer, of the State University of Iowa. 

[Of Luther's work on the Psalms before his translation, we have 
lectures, notes, sermons, and commentaries. In this paper an attempt 
is made to establish, by means of a review of this material, the 
principles of criticism and interpretation laid down by Luther. A 
comparison of his translation with the sources shows that these 
principles here find expression, and this accounts for many of the 
peculiarities of translating and satisfactorily explains many of the 

25. "Zur Quelle von Schillers Dramenpl&nen, Die Begebenheit 
zu Famagusta und Dew Ereignia zu Verona heim Rdmerguge Sigia- 
monda." By Professor Edwin Carl Roedder, of the University of 

[The source of the Begebenheit zu Famaguata is found in Vertof s 
Hiatoire dea Chevaliera Hoapiialiera de 8, Jean du J^ruaalem, vol. II, 
(Paris, 1772), pp. 297 ff. of Schiller's copy in the Hamburger Stadt^ 
bibliothek. The passage referred to contains an account of certain 
events in the capital of Rhodes during the reign of Pierre de Lusi- 
gnan, which bear a general resemblance to motives used in several 
of Schiller's later dramas. Concerning the Ereignia zu Verona, 
Schiller seems to have had in mind Eberhard Windecke's account 
of some happenings in Innsbruck (not in Verona), on one of Sigis- 
mond's Italian journeys, reprinted in Johannes Mfiller's Die Oe- 
achichten Schweizeriacher Eidgenoaaenaohaft, drittes Buch (Leipzig, 
1788), p. 29 of Schiller's copy in the Goethe and Schiller Archives 
at Weimar.] 

26. " I. Ein frage des gantzen heiligen Ordens der Kartenspieler 

vom Kam(5ffel an das Concilium zu Mantua 1537. 
II. Newe Zeytung vom Tettffel, Pasquillus, 1546. 
III. Wider die base Sieben ins Teufels Kam»ffelspiel„ 1662.'' 
By Professor Ernst Voss, of the University of Wis- 

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[The relation of theee works to each other. The investigation 
deals especially with the etymology of KamOffel and KamOffelspiel. 
The latter is fully described in Netae Zeytung, SdurMer's theory 
of the Streckformen also enters into the discussion.] 

27. " Ordo Joseph." By Professor Karl Toung, of the University 
of Wisconsin. 

[An unpublisht dramatization in vers^ with extensive rubrics, 
of the Biblical story of Joseph and his brethren. This unique 
liturgical play, produced, probably, during Lent, is found in a 
manuscript of the fourteenth century.] 

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Delivered on Wednesday, December 28, in New York, 

N. Y., AT THE Twenty-Eighth Annual Meeting 

OP THE Association 

By Brander Matthews 


It is ten years now since Professor Seligman publisht 
his acute and brilliant essay setting forth exactly what 
the economic interpretation of history really is. He made 
it plain that " the chief considerations in human progress 
are the social considerations '' and that " the most im- 
portant factor in social changes is the economic factor." 
There are other considerations of course, and there is no 
warrant for the attempt to explain all history in economic 
terms alone. ." The rise, the progress, and the decay of 
nations have been largely due to changes in economic 
relations, internal and external, of the social groups, even 
tho the facility with which mankind has availed itself 
of this economic environment has been the product of 
intellectual and moral forces ... So long as the body 
is not held everywhere in complete subjection to the soul, 
so long as the struggle for wealth does not everywhere give 
way to the struggle for virtue, the social structure and the 
fundamental relations between social classes will be largely 
shaped by these overmastering influences, which whether 
we approve or deplore them, still form so great a part 
of the content of life." 

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Underlying many, if not supporting most of the signi- 
ficant events in human history we can find, if we seek 
it diligently, an economic explanation, even tho other 
explanations Aay be more apparent at first sight A 
majority of the mighty movements of mankind and of 
the salient struggles of the race, the stalwart efforts for 
freedom and for expansion, including not a few of those 
which may seem to be purely political, or intellectual, 
or even religious, have also an economic basis; they are 
to be explained as due in part at least to the eternal 
desire of every human being to better himself, to heap 
up worldly goods, and to secure himself against himger. 
Attention has been called to the economic factors which 
helpt to bring about the American Eevolution and the 
Civil War, as well as the French Eevolution and the Boer 
War, and which can be traced also in the Spanish Iniqui- 
sition, in the Crusades, and even in the expansion of 
Christianity. One devoted student of Homer has dwelt 
on the advantages possest by Mycenae and Troy as trading 
sites; and he has ventured to suggest an economic expla- 
nation for the Greek expedition against Priam's capital. 
Perhaps the siege of Troy must be ascribed to the un- 
willingness of the seafaring merchants of Achaia to pay 
exorbitant tolls to the holders of the fastness which com- 
manded the most convenient route for commerce. 

Professor Seligman is clear in his warning that we must 
not put too heavy a burden on the theory he has ex- 
pounded so skillfully and so candidly. " The economic 
interpretation of history, correctly understood, does not 
claim that every phenomenon of human life in general or 
of social life in particular, is to be explained on economic 
grounds. Few writers would trace the different mani- 
festations of language, or even of art, primarily to eco- 
nomic conditions." And yet there can be no rich and 

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ample development of any art unless the economic condi- 
tions are favorable. These conditions may not be the 
direct cause of this development, but if they do not exist, 
it cannot take place. A distinguisht British art critic 
has asserted that the luxuriance of Tudor architecture is 
due directly to the introduction of root-crops into Eng- 
land. That is to say, the turnip enabled the sheep- 
farmers to carry their cattle thru the winter; and as the 
dimate of the British Isles favors sheep-raising, the crea- 
tion of a winter food-supply immediately made possible 
the expansion of the wool-trade, whereby large fortunes 
were soon accumulated, the men thus enricht expending 
the surplus promptly in stately and sumptous residences. 
In political science the search for the fundamental eco- 
nomic causes of important events has resulted in an 
enlargement and a reinvigoration of historic study; and 
there is cause for surprise that a method so fertile has not 
been more frequently applied to the history of the several 
arts and more especially to that of the art of letters. 
Perhaps one reason for the general neglect to utilize a 
suggestive method is to be found in the fact that the 
theory of the domination of every epoch by its great men, 
as set forth strenuously by Carlyle in his " Heroes and 
Hero-Worship " and now thoroly discredited by modem 
historical science, has still an imdeniable validity in the 
several arts. It may be that the American Revolution 
would have run its course successfully even if Washington 
had never been born, and that the Civil War would have 
ended as it did even if Lincoln had died at its beginning; 
but English Literature would be very different if there 
had been no Shakespere, and French literature would be 
very different if there had been no Molifire. History may 
be able to get along without its great men, but literature 
lives by its masters alone. It is only what they are. 

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These mighty figures are so salient and so significant, they 
dwarf the lesser writers so overwhelmingly that most 
histories of literature are content to be only a bederoll of 
great authors. 

This is unfortunate, since it gives us a defective con- 
ception of literary development. The history of any 
literature ought to be something more than a chronological 
collection of biographical criticisms with only casual con- 
sideration of the movements of this literature as a whole. 
No one has yet written an entirely satisfactory history of 
English literature, showing its successive stages and the 
series of influences which determined its growth. With 
all its defects, Taine's stimulating book comes nearest to 
attaining this ideal, — altho we shall probably find it more 
completely realized in M. Jusserand's monumental work 
when that is at least achieved. Indeed, we have no hand- 
book of English literature worthy of comparison with M. 
Lanson's school text-book of French literature, in which 
the biographies of authors are relegated to footnotes, leav- 
ing the text free for fuller treatment of large movements, 
as the literature of France unrolled itself thru the ages. 

The concentration of the historians of literature upon 
biography, pure and simple, has led them to neglect the 
economic interpretation and to give only inadequate con- 
sideration to the legal and political interpretation. In- 
deed, these three aspects are closely related ; and all three 
of them demand a more searching investigation than they 
have yet received. No historian of English literature has 
brought out the intimate connection which may exist be- 
tween public life and authorship, as Gaston Boissier set 
it forth in his illuminating studies of the Latin men of 
letters in the early days of the Eoman Empire. Of 
course, every chronicler of English literature has been 
forced to record the result of the closing of the London 

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theatres by the Puritans, just as every chronicler of 
French literature has had to note the injurious restraint 
caused by the selfish autocracy of Louis XIV and of 
Napoleon. But there are a host of less obvious influences 
exerted from time to time in one literature or another by 
the political situation, by the inadequacy of the legal pro- 
tection afforded to literary property, and by the economic 
conditions of the period, which have not been adequately 
analized by any historian of any modem literature. 

Perhaps there may be profit in pointing out a few of the 
obscurities which might be cleared up by the scholars who 
shall investigate these cognate influences upon literary 
expansion. For example, it would be instructive if some 
one should consider carefully to what extent the compara- 
tive literary sterility of these United States in the middle 
years of the nineteenth century, when we were abounding 
in energy, was due to the absence of an international copy- 
right law, whereby our native writers were exposed to an 
unfair competition with the vendors of stolen goods. It 
would be useful also if some competent authority at- 
tempted to gage the effect of a similar legal deficiency on 
the English drama of the same period and to indicate how 
much of the sudden expansion of the novel in Great 
Britain must be ascribed to the fact that it did not pay to 
write English plays because the theatrical managers could 
take French plays for nothing. And we should like to 
know how much of the abundant productivity of the 
French drama during the next hundred years was due to 
the secure position of the Society of Dramatic Authors, 
a trade-union organized by Beaumarchais in the eigh- 
teenth century and reorganized by Scribe early in the nine- 
teenth, whereby it was made more profitable for a man of 
letters in France to compose plays than to compose novels. 
There would be benefit also in an inquiry into the ques- 

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tion whether the high literary quality of the French 
drama of this epoch, far higher than that of the drama in 
any other language, was the indirect result of the support 
of the Theatre Frangais by the government as a national 
museum for dramatic masterpieces. 

" The existence of man depends upon his ability to 
sustain himself; the economic life is therefore the funda- 
mental condition of all life," — to quote from Professor 
Seligman's monograph once more. " To economic causes, 
therefore, must be traced, in last instance, those transfor- 
mations in the structure of society, which themselves con- 
dition the relations of social classes and the manifestations 
of social life." Just as armies are said to advance on 
their bellies, since they can never get too far ahead of the 
supply-train, so the arts can flourish only as the means of 
the people may permit. Feuerbach's famous phrase, — 
"man is what he eats," does not ocTver the whole truth 
about life; yet an artist cannot create beauty unless he 
eats. Food is a condition precedent to literature. A 
starving man is not likely to set himself down to compose 
an epic ; and a bard is better fitted to chant the high deeds 
of heroes after the descendants of these worthies have 
given him bed and board. The literary laborer is worthy 
of his hire; and without a living wage he cannot ply his 
trade. In the past he has needed a patron or a pension; 
and in the present he needs popularity or private means. 
Martial once vsnrote out a recipe for making great poets: 
" Pay them well ; where there is a Msecenas there will be 
a Horace and a Virgil also." And Napoleon voiced an 
opinion not dissimilar in a letter, written from Berlin in 
1806, in which he protested against the cheapness of the 
lyrics sung at the Opera in honor of his victories: " com- 
plaints are made that we have no literature; that is the 
fault of the Minister of the Interior." 

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There are four motives which may inspire an author 
to do his best, — the necessity for money, the lust for fame, 
the impulse for self-expression, and the desire to accom- 
plish an immediate purpose. Sometimes they are all com- 
bined, altho many of the greatest writers, — Shakspere, for 
one, and Moliere, for another, — seem to have cared little 
or nothing for the good opinion of posterity. The im- 
pulse for self-expression and the desire to accomplish an 
immediate purpose are both potent; but neither is as 
insistent and as inexorable as the necessity for money. 
In every country and in every age men of genius have 
been tempted to adventure themselves in that form of 
literature which happened then and there to be most popu- 
lar and therefore most likely to be profitable. This is 
what accoimts for the richness of the drama in England 
under Queen Elizabeth, for the vogue of the essay under 
Queen Anne and hej successors and for the immense ex- 
pansion of the novel under Queen Victoria. 

Dr. Johnson went so far as to assert that a man was 
a fool who wrote from any other motive than the need of 
cash. This is a characteristically false utterance ; and it is 
discredited by the significant fact that the piece of John- 
son's own prose which has the most savor is his letter to 
Chesterfield, for which he was not paid and in which he 
was distilling his rancor, — ^in other words, expressing him- 
self without any expectation of profit. Tet this saying 
of his may suggest a reason for the neglect which has be* 
fallen nearly all of Johnson's work. He wrote for pay; 
and he could not expect posterity to take pleasure in 
perusing what he had not taken pleasure in composing. 

That the need of money has not always been the over- 
mastering motive is made evident by the long list of 
authors, ancient and modem, who were not men of letters 
by profession, whose writings are by-products of their 

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other activities, who composed without any thought of pay, 
and who took pen in hand to accomplish an immediate 
purpose. Franklin never wrote for money and he never 
publisht a book ; his works consist only of occasional pam- 
phlets; and probably nothing would more surprise him 
to-day than the fact that he now holds an honored place as a 
man of letters. And Voltaire was a shrewd money-maker, 
a singularly adroit man of affairs; but only a small pro- 
portion of his large fortune was earned by his pen. 
Franklin, — and perhaps Voltaire also, — ^was a man of 
affairs, who carried literature as a side-line. 

As M. Beljame has stated the case, in his admirable 
discussion of the relations between the public and the men 
of letters in England in the eighteenth century, " So long 
as education is the privilege of a chosen few, so long as 
the taste for and the habit of reading are not spread 
abroad in a fair proportion of society, it is clear that 
writers can find in the sales of their works only an uncer- 
tain and insufficient resource." Literature as a profes- 
sion, as a calling which shall support its man, is possible 
only after the earlier aristocratic organization has broad- 
ened into a more democratic condition, and after the 
appreciation of letters has ceased to be the privilege only 
of the few. So long as the narrower aristocratic organi- 
zation endures, the man of letters cannot rely on his pen 
for support He needs a M©cenas ; he sues for pensions ; 
he hucksters his dedications. He may believe that poetry 
is his vocation, but he feels in need of an avocation to 
keep a roof over his head. 

So it is that until the growth of a middle class and the 
extension of education combine to make the structure of 
society more democratic, and to supply at least a reading 
public large enough to reward the author's labor, litera- 
ture can be little more than the accompaniment of its 

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creator's other activities. Shakespere and Moliere were 
actors. Fielding was a police magistrate and Scott was 
a sheriff. Burns was a gager and Wordsworth a stamp- 
distributor. Hawthorne had places in the revenue and 
consular services. Longfellow and Lowell were college 
professors. And it is scarcely an exaggeration to say that 
in the midyears of the nineteenth century a large propor- 
tion of the New England writers were able to support 
themselves only because they were competent also to prac- 
tice the allied art of the lecturer. The lyceum-system, as 
it was called, was long the main-stay of American litera- 
ture. One man of letters used to declare that he lectured 
for fame, — ^F-A-M-E, — Fifty And My Expenses. 

Only by his annual vagrancy as a lecturer was the 
frugal Emerson able to bring up his family. He was not 
blind to the inconveniences of the procedure and in his 
journal he recorded that it seemed to him " tantamount to 
this : ' I'll bet you fifty dollars a day for three weeks that 
you will not leave your library, and wade, and freeze, and 
ride, and run, and suffer all manner of indignities, and 
stand up for an hour each night reading in a hall ; ' and 
I answer, ^ Fll bet I will.' I do it and win the nine hun- 
dred dollars." And yet whatever its inconveniences and 
its indignities the lyceum-system markt an economic ad- 
vance ; it made possible an appeal to the public as a whole. 
And as it enabled the lecturer to rely on his fellow-citizens, 
so it forced him to rub shoulders with them and to widen 
his own ojitlook on life; it was fundamentally anti- 

The lyceum-system in America provided the economic 
possibility which permitted Emerson to support himself 
without sacrifice of character. The lack of an equivalent 
economic possibility in England is responsible for the 
pitiful waste of the large genius of Dryden. M. Bel- 

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jame has made it dear that under the Bestoration there 
was really no public for an author to rely on. There was 
the corrupt court; there was a petty ootery of self-styled 
wits; and that was all. For books there was little or no 
sale; altho there was casual profit from fulsome dedica- 
tions to noble patrons. As a result there is little vitality 
in the literature of the Restoration, little validity. And 
Dryden, a man of noble endowment, had to make a living 
by composing broad comedies, to tickle the jaded courtiers, 
— a form of literature for which, as he confest frankly, 
he was not naturally gifted. 

Dryden was bom out of time, either too late or too 
early. His work would be larger and richer had he been 
a younger contemporary of Shakspere, expressing himself 
amply in the full tragic form which Shakspere trans- 
mitted to those who followed him. It would have been 
more spontaneous had he been a contemporary of Pope or 
of Scott or of Tennyson. Even in Pope's time, separated 
from Dryden's by so brief a span, there had come into 
existence a reading public to which a poet could appeaL 
In the preface to the Dunciad Pope prided himself on 
the fact that he had never held office or received a pension 
or any gift from queen or minister. 

"But, (thanks to Homer) since I live and thrive, 
Indebted to no Prince or Peer aliye." 

And having gained nine thousand pounds by his trans- 
lations, he felt independent enough to dedicate the long- 
expected book, not to any noble patron who woidd pay 
liberally for the honor, but to his fellow-author, Congreve. 

In the century that intervened between Pope and 
Byron, the reading public kept on expanding and the 
publishing trade establisht itself solidly. The economic 
conditicms of authorship were thereby immeasurably im- 

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proved, and it would be interesting to speculate on the 
enrichment of English poetry by the natural outflowing 
of Dryden's genius, which might have taken place if the 
author of Absolom and Achitophel had been bom a 
contemporary of the author of English Bards and Scotch 
Reviewers. Scott at the same time, and Tennyson a half 
century later, won large rewards by a direct appeal to the 
broadening body of readers ; and yet who would be so bold 
as to suggest that Dryden was inferior to either of these 
popular poets in masculine vigor or in intellectual power ? 

In Dryden's day literature had not yet become a pro- 
fession, since a profession cannot be said to exist until 
it can support its professionals. Indeed, the final differ- 
ence between the professional and the amateur is that the 
latter is willing to work for nothing, whereas the former 
demands his day's wages. Bayes, the hero of the Re- 
hearsal (in which Dryden was satirized) revealed him- 
self as an amateur when he cried, " For what care I for 
money ? I write for Fame and Reputation. '* And Byron 
stood forth a professional when he persisted in raising his 
rate of payment at the very time when he was insisting 
on Murray's treating him as a nobleman. The profes- 
sional man of letters may be known by his respect for a 
check on the bank, — ^for what Lowell aptly described as 
" that species of literature which has the supreme art of 
conveying the most pleasure in the least space." 

Altho the unfortunate economic condition of literature 
in his day especially affected Dryden, who felt himself 
forced to compose comedies of a doubtful decency, the 
author of All for Love is far from being alone in this 
lack of adjustment between the work for which he was 
intended by native gift and the task to which he turned 
perforce to earn his living. As Dryden wrote comedies 
against his grain, so in their days Marlowe and Peale 

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wrote plays of a more primitive type, altho neither of 
them had the instinctive faculty of the bom playwright. 
Marlowe, of the mighty line, was essentially an epic poet, 
and it is by main strength that he built his cumbrous 
pieces. Peele was essentially a lyric poet, feeling feebly 
after a dramatic formula which was ever eluding his 
grasp. Both Marlowe and Peele were turned aside from 
the true expression of their genius by the ready pay of the 
playhouse, which then gave better wages than could else- 
where be had. 

Later examples are abundant and significant. For 
instance, Steele and Addison elaborated the delightful 
eighteenth century essay with its easy briskness and its 
playful social satire; and Goldsmith, in his turn, foimd 
the form ready to his hand and exactly suited to his 
special gift. But because this airy and graceful essay had 
an enduring popularity and because it brought in a 
prompt reward in cash, it was attempted by the ponderous 
Dr. Johnson, who was devoid of the natural lightness, the 
intangible charm and the allusive felicity which the essay 

In the nineteenth century the vogue of the essay was 
succeeded by the vogue of the novel, which was tempting 
to not a few as little fitted for it as Johnson was for the 
brisk essay. Brougham and Motley and Froude severally 
made shipwreck in fiction. Perhaps it is not fanciful to 
suggest that it was the desire for the pecuniary reward 
that fiction then proffered abundantly which lured George 
Eliot into novel-writing rather than any native impulse 
to story writing. Her labored narratives, rich as they 
are in insight into humanity, lack spontaneity; they are 
the result of her intelligence primarily; they are built 
by obvious effort. If the economic conditions of literature 
in the nineteenth century had been different, it is unlikely 

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that Mary Ann Evans would ever have attempted fiction. 
And Charles Beade, who liked to think of himself as a 
more original novelist than George Eliot, used to assert 
that he had been intended by nature for a dramatist, and 
that he had been forced into fiction by bad laws. Quite 
possibly Augier and the younger Dumas, had they written 
in English, might have felt the same legal oppression, 
coercing them to give up the drama for prose-fiction. 

Novels may be written for money, but hisitory must be 
a labor of love. Now and again, most unexpectedly, a 
historical work happens to hit the public fancy and to 
bring to its surprised author an unexpected reward for 
his toil. But this is only a happy incident, most infre- 
quent; and the historian can count himself fortunate if 
he has not to pay out of his own pocket for the publica- 
tion of his work. As Rivarol said, " There are virtues 
that one can practise only when one is rich"; and the 
writing of history is one of these virtues. Macaulay 
toiled long in India that he might accumulate the modest 
fortune which would give him leisure to undertake the 
researches that were to sustain his historical work. Gib- 
bon and Prescott and Parkham were lucky in inheriting 
the sufficient estates which enabled them to live laborious 
days without taking thought of the morrow. Indeed, it 
must be admitted that here is one of the best defences 
of inherited wealth — that in every generation a few pickt 
men are set free for unremunerative investigations, not 
otherwise likely to be undertaken. 

While history is thus seen to be more or less dependent 
on special economic conditions, its dose ally, oratory, is 
dependent rather upon political conditions. In the last 
analysis, oratory is the art of persuasion; it is lifeless 
and juiceless when the speaker has not set his heart upon 
influencing those he is addressing. It is impossible where 

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there is no free speecL In fact, it can flourish only in 
a free people, and it stiffens into academic emptiness 
whenever the citizen is muzzled. It ceased in Greece as 
soon as the tyrants substituted their rule for the large 
freedom of the conmionwealth. It froze into formality 
in Rome as soon as the Empire was erected on the ruins 
of the Republic. 

It developed healthily in Great Britain and in the 
United States as the people came to take political power 
into their own hands. In France, under the monarchy 
it could flourish only in the pulpit, within the narrow 
limitations of the lenten sermon and of the funeral dis- 
course; and as a result the orators of the Revolution, 
after they had achieved the right to speak out, had no 
models to keep them from artificiality and from pedan- 
try; they lackt the experience of actual debate which 
trains for directness and for sincerity. 

Just as the full development of oratory is dependent 
upon political conditions, so the ample expansion of the 
drama is dependent on social conditions. When Long- 
fellow declared that the country is lyric and the town 
dramatic he had in mind probably the fact that the lyric 
poet deals with nature, whereas the dramatic poet deals 
with human nature. The lyric poet may live in rural 
solitude, chanting his own emotions at his own sweet will. 
The dramatic poet has to dwell with the throng that he 
may gain intimate knowledge of the varied types of human- 
ity he. needs to people his plays. But he is compelled to 
the city by another fact, — the inexorable fact that only 
where men are massed together can the frequent audiences 
be found which alone can support the theater. The drama 
is a function of the crowd; and it is impossible in a 
village community where the inhabitants are scattered 
over the distant hillsides. It can flourish only in the 

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densely populated cities, where all sorts and conditions 
of men are packt together, restless, and energetic. No 
dramatist ever had a chance to develop except in an urban 
community where the actual theater provided him with 
the means of practising his art. If any man bom with 
the instructive faculty of playmaking, the essential drama- 
turgic quality, had ever chanced to grow to maturity in 
a purely rural environment, he must have been driven 
forth to a city, or else from sheer lack of opportunity he 
must have failed to accomplish what he vaguely desired. 
In the remote village a mute inglorious Milton might per- 
chance develop into an enamored architect of airy rime; 
but a Shakspere would be doomed to remain mute and 

The drama, being dependent on the mass of men, being 
a function of the crowd, has never been aristocratic, as 
certain of the other forms of literary art may have been 
now and again. Indeed, the drama is the only art which 
is inherently and inevitably democratic, since the play- 
wright cannot depend upon a cotery of the cutivated only 
or on a clique of dilettants. It is the playwright's duty, 
as it is his pleasure also, to move men in the mass, to 
appeal to them as fellow human beings only, to strive to as- 
certain the greatest oonmion denominator of the throng. 
To say this is to suggest that the drama is likely to gain 
steadily in power, now that the chief nations of the modem 
world are organized at last upon a democratic basis. And 
the prediction may be ventured also that if the risiilg tide 
of socialism ever succeeds in overwhelming democracy and 
in substituting collective eflFort for personal endeavor, the 
drama will be the first, art to suffer, since it exists pri- 
marily to set forth the clash of contending desires and the 
stmggle of individual wills. 

Literature caimot help being more or less aristocratic 

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in its tone when the man of letters must look for his living 
to pensions from the monarch or to largess from a wealthy 
patron. Literature becomes democratic inevitably when 
the man of letters is released from this servitude to a 
social superior and when he finds himself free to appeal 
for support to the public as a whole. Economic and 
political and legal conditions need to be taken into account 
by all historians of literature, ancient and modem. 
'' While his appearance at a particular moment appears 
to us a matter of chance, the great man influences 
society only when society is ready for him." So Profes- 
sor Seligman has asserted, adding the apt command that 
" if society is not ready for him, he is called not a great 
man, but a visionary or a failure." 

He who possesses the potentiality of becoming one of 
the great men of literature may be bom out of time or he 
may be bom out of place. For the full expansion of 
his genius he needs the fit moment and the fit environ- 
ment ; and without the one or the other he may be crusht 
and maimed. And yet if he has the affluent largeness of 
true genius, he is likely to have <dso the shrewd common 
sense of the man of affairs. He will have the gift of 
making the best of things as they chance to be, without 
whining and without revolt He will rise superior to 
circumstances, either because he is supple enough to adapt 
himself to them, or because he is strong enough to conquer 
them, turning into a stepping-stone the obstacle which 
weaker creatures would find only a stumbling block. 

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Delivered on Wednesday, December 28, in St. Louis, 

Mo., AT THE Sixteenth Annual Meeting op the 

Central Division 

By Laurence Fossler 

can the standard of efficiency of modern lan- 

I have no apologies to make for choosing this theme 
for the address this evening. The place and importance 
which modem languj^ study has assumed in our modem 
educational systems, both collegiate and secondary, fully 
justify this choice. We do well to consider from time to 
time the vital problems connected with our work, with 
modem language teaching, be those languages English, 
French, German, or any other form of living speech. We 
need to examine at dose range, in dear and definite 
terms, the aims and purpose of our efforts, the means and 
instrumentalities through which these are sought to be 
reached, the causes of our successes and our failures, and 
the nature and character of practicable measures for 
betterment and improvement. 

For we are well aware that, though the modem lan- 
guages have fallen heir to a large share of the domain 
once occupied by the classic tongues, they are, neverthe- 
less, on trial before the bar of enlightened public opinion 
and judgment. We are conscious that their worth and 
value must be tested and proven by the results, both 
* practical * and ' cultural,' attained in their study. They 
must demonstrate their fitness and serviceability in trainr 

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ing the mind to habits of dose application, accurate 
observation, dear thinking, and refined feeling. To 
demand less would imply faithlessness to educational 
ideals. Nothing less can justify the expenditure of time 
and effort necessarily given even to a partial mastery of 
a foreign tongue. For even after satisfying, to the best 
of our ability, the demands of a so-called practical, utili- 
tarian, or vocational nature — the needs of the traveler, the 
business correspondent, the scientist, or the investigator — 
we are still confronted by that vast army of young men 
and women to whom language study can be nothing if it 
be not mental and moral discipline, if it be not a " means 
of grace " for clarifying thought and judgment, for puri- 
fying tastes, and quickening sympathies, for widening the 
circle of human interests through the medium of another 
people's mode of speech. Language study is fruitless and 
barren if the learner cannot by its means be brought into 
closer touch than would otherwise be possible with the 
genius and character, the institutions and habits of life, 
the traditions, history, and literature of the foreign people. 
These propositions are self-evident They state the 
educational goal of the Neuphilologe; they are the ideal 
program which he has set before him. He knows full 
well the length and arduousness of the road that leads to 
its realization ; he is aware that " Heaven is not gained 
by a single bound." In less poetic terms: even a fairly 
respectable approach to these ideals requires long and 
well-directed, persistent effort on the part of both teacher 
and taught. Nor can we demand that our secondary 
schools shall attain them alone and unaided. Indeed, in 
our sober and reflective moments, we are forced to admit 
that even college and univeraity instruction, alone or 
building upon the foundation laid in the secondary school, 

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only too often fails to attain the best results which the 
language study should yield. 

We all realize certain inherent difficulties and obstacles 
connected with such study, whether undertaken in school 
or in college. A study entered upon at the age of 14 or 18 
(as is done by many college students), that should be 
begun at the age of 11 or 12, cannot possibly yield 
thoroughly satisfactory results. What can be accom- 
plished by a college instructor, be he ever so painstaking 
and conscientious, with a class of young men and women 
18 to 20 years of age, almost every one of whom is unable 
to see any direct, practical application of the study in 
which he or she is engaged ? Or what substantial, genuine 
and valuable results can be looked for when that study is 
directed — as it is very often in the secondary schools, — 
by teachers insufficiently trained? 

I ask these questions not in a captious or faultfinding 
spirit. I understand thoroughly the complexity of the 
whole educational problem. I know that the responsi- 
bility for the unsatisfactory condition of the situation 
cannot be attributed to any one cause, or to any one part 
of our educational machinery. We are all fellow-sinners, 
all sharers and participants — and sufferers — in the frag- 
mentary, unsatisfactory results accomplished. Nor is the 
situation, in the West, materially different from that in 
the East. 

But a general confession of ains, a blanket act of con- 
trition, is apt to soothe the conscience without purifying 
the soul. Individual shortcomings tend to be merged in 
the general whole. The New England Primer^s "In 
Adam's fall we sinned all " is apt to make one resigned 
to the frailties of human nature. For, if the worst comes 
to the viTorst, one can take refuge in the thought that 
one's self, at least, is in a state of grace, and that the doc- 

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trine of total depravity really holds good only in the case 
of " the other fellow." Seriously, the tendency among 
college and university men is to refuse to take their share 
of the responsibility in the unsatisfactory state of second- 
ary instruction, and to lay the entire blame upon others 
than themselves. Frequently, too, we imagine that 
secondary school men are not aware of the defects of their 
share in the educational output, and that they are not 
bestirring themselves to remedy these defects. Neither 
one of these attitudes is justifiable. In the final analysis 
the responsibility for the character of teaching in second- 
ary schools lies largely with us, and the authorities in 
these schools do endeavor, as best they can, to measuriB 
up to sound educational standards. 

If this is true — and there is no doubt it is — it cer- 
tainly behooves us to examine carefully what, if anything, 
can be done by us, what ought to be done by us, to raise 
and increase the eflSciency of modem language instruction 
in the schools. In answer to a note of inquiry respecting 
the status of such instruction sent to a large number of 
superintendents and principles of the Middle West, one of 
them, evidently a well-trained, vigorous, and clear-headed 
teacher, one thoroughly devoted to his high calling, 
replies : ' 

" I am glad someone is ' getting busy ^ on the subject 
of German in the secondary schools. Having myself lived 
in Germauy, I have been exasperated beyond expression 
by the utter futility of most of the GJerman instruction 
in our high schools and colleges. After four years' work 
in high schools and numerous courses in the university, 
I find in general the students are quite unable to converse 
with me in common every-day German, about the simplest 
topics. College heads of departments come to our schools 
and test our classes for knowledge of lists of prepositions 

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governing certain cases, and go away clapping their hands 
because the teacher has succeeded in this stupidly me- 
moriter foundation for the study of technical German 

" Unless at least a rude facility is acquired in the study 
of German in our schools and colleges, the subject should 
be ruthlessly cast out by those who are trying to guard 
the precious opportunities of youth, that they may result 
in realities, and not in misty visions. 

" You are perfectly at liberty to quote me, if you so 

This is vigorous to say the least. But it is more: it 
is very largely true. The correspondent, a principal in 
one of the best schools of the country, voices the convic- 
tion of many of his craft, earnest, devoted, practical 
secondary school men, to whom the great mass of the 
youth of the land look for sane and sound training. Pro- 
tests, such as the one he enters, should not be passed by 
unheeded. They should set us to thinking and acting. 

As a pendant to this indictment I may cite the reply 
of one of our colleagues, who, in reply to the question: 
" What, in your judgment, can and ought to be done to 
improve the quality of modem language teaching in our 
secondary school ? " unburdens his heart as follows : 

" Goodness knows, a lot ought to be done, tho' I fear 
but little can be done — ^for lack of any centralized au- 
thority that has any right to do anything. Every school 
board, superintendent, and principal insists on his right 
to appoint the teachers within his bailiwick and would 
resent any invasion of his right. Severe things otight to 
be done. 1) Have more teachers and smaller classes. 
2) Have very much better teachers than we now have, 
better scholars, better pedagogues, bigger, finer, more mag- 
netic and effective personalities — ^men and women who 

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PBOOEEDmes FOB 1910 Ixxix 

have it in them and who train themselves for this career 
as for a life work and not merely to fill up a gap of 
nncertainty as to life-plans. 3) More pay and more 
recognition of every sort for such teachers — so that the 
best heads and hearts may be tempted to choose the pro- 
fession. In short we've got to quit letting the contract 
(for the teaching of our children) to the lowest bidder, 
as we now do. 4) Better opportimities for our really 
able, earnest young teachers to fit themselves for their 
work. These confounded ^ Normal ' schools ought to be 
done away with or else turned into real Teachers' colleges, 
where men who know how can teach others how. 

" But forgive me, — ^your last question touches a sore 
spot and the sparks fly in spite of me." 

Another fellow-worker answers the question thus: 
" Thoroughness, accuracy of knowledge, whatever 
method be followed. The knowledge of the average fresh- 
man entering the University is hazy, unreliable, and 
especially so his knowledge of the elements of grammar. 
We should insist upon more drill in applied grammar. 
If the present requiremnts are too high, they should be 
reduced, but accuracy in the essentials of the language 
should be strenuously demanded. The average teacher 
tries too many things, with the result that the vital values 
are neglected. The knowledge of German of the average 
freshman is too vague to be relied upon ; hence the essen- 
tials have to be carefully revived in the University, if 
any scholarly results are to be attained. Equally vague 
is the knowledge of the esentials of German history and 
geography. With the proper use of our elementary text- 
books this knowledge should be easily acquired. It seems 
to me that the average high school teacher of to-day, 
bewildered by the variety of ideals presented before him, 
fails to develop in the student any definite knowledge 

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of the language. Pronunciation is almost universally 
faulty. The knowledge of the most elementary vocabu- 
lary is meager. The works read are unwisely selected. 
In my judgment it is imperative that the elementary 
courses in the high school should be more carefully organ- 
ized under the supervision or direction of some competent 

Much more of similar import, coming from sources East 
and West, could readily be adduced to emphasize the 
urgent need for reform and betterment in language teach- 
ing. Evidently the negro quack's " We cures de disease, 
sah, or we eradicates de system," would seem to be the 
only alternatives presented. 

The practice, all but universal in a large section of our 
country, of admitting graduates from accredited high 
schools to Freshmen standing in college or university, 
makes the problem we are considering peculiarly our 
own. We cannot, must not, leave the secondary schools 
to work it out unaided and alone. The solution, if solu- 
tion there be, rests very largely with us and with the 
institutions we represent. Ex-President Eliot was right 
when he declared that " Schools follow universities and 
will be what universities make them." This is neces- 
sarily so. The higher institutions alone have adequate 
means for training leaders in the educational field; they 
alone have the facility to develop a competent body of 
teachers. In availing themselves of these means and 
facilities they practically set educational standards. 

Furthermore, say what we please, the men and women 
in charge of secondary school-work have shown and are 
showing a most commendable readiness to cooperate with 
the authorities in the higher schools to bring about better 
conditions. The unanimity with which the secondary 
schools accepted the Eeport of the Coiomittee on College 

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PBOOEEDmos FOB 1910 Ixxxi 

Entrance Requirements,^ not only as the basis of the 
relation between high school and college, but also as de- 
termining the character and quality of the work to be 
done in the schools generally, proves this assertion. 
To-day the requirements there set for college entrance ^ 
have been accepted by the Carnegie Foundation for the 
Advancement of Teaching, by the New England Asso- 
ciation of Colleges and Preparatory Schools, by the North 
Central Association of Colleges and Secondary Schools, 
and by similar oi^anizations throughout the country. 
Whatever variations do exist are insignificant in com- 
parison with the points of agreement. Nor do such vari- 
ations, meeting local conditions or demands, or adjusting 
requiremnts to the widened educational experience of the 
one or the other of these standardizing bodies, or of 
schools, impair the essential uniformity of the system in 

It can, accordingly, no longer be said, as it could be 
said years ago, that the great obstacle to effective teaching 
was the lack of uniformity in the curricula of the high 
schools. In a way these standardizing agencies largely 
take the place of the Lehrpldne or Cours d*Enseignement 
of the European ministries of education. 

Hence we must look elsewhere for the defects and short- 
comings of our secondary teaching. They are, we are 
aware, partly irremediable, being part and parcel of con- 
ditions and circumstances beyond anyone's control, and 
partly remediable, if proper means are taken to effect a 
cure. The vast extent of our territory, local pride — 
shall I call it? — at any rate, the American unwillingness 

*Made in 1899 to the N. E. A. 

'In 1910 the Coll^;e Entrance Examination Board examined 3731 
students in 168 places in all parts of the country. 

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to concentrate more advanced educational efforts in fewer 
localities, the more or less shifting teaching personnel 
educating itself professionally only too often at the ex- 
pense and to the detriment of the children in its charge, 
a public that has not yet learned to know and value expert, 
professional service and efficiency, — a public, at least, 
unwilling to pay for such service and efficiency, — ^all these 
and many other obstacles to educational progress loom up 
large and forbidding. 

Then, again, the specific line of study we represent is 
by this same public regarded as a luxury rather than a 
necessity. What with the undeniable and inevitable press 
of the so-called practical, vocational, or utilitarian branches 
clamoring for recognition and a place in school curricula, 
and the consequent uncertainty of educational values, rela- 
tive and absolute, it is small wonder that such is the case. 
Even some high educational authorities have called the 
necessity of language training into question. In an 
address, not long ago. President Schurman declared 

" That the modem languages were originally introduced partly on 
the ground of their practical utility as media of intercourse with 
other nations, but mainly as available substitutes for the literary 
and linguistic discipline furnished by the ancient classics. There 
has been a great change in our conception of liberal culture since 
the fight was first made for the introduction of modern languages 
into the college curriculum. Latin and Greek were then regarded 
as essential conditions of a liberal education. We must as a 
matter of fact recognize that Greek is practically gone as a college 
subject, and that Latin, even though holding its own to-day, occu- 
pies no such preeminent position as it did. If French and German 
and other modem languages are to be retained, not for their own 
sake, what are the grounds and reasons for maintaining them? 
The obvious answer of the practical man is that they are useful 
for persons who desire to read French, German, or Spanish books 
or to converse with Frenchmen, Germans, or Spaniards. There are, 
however, so many good books written in the English language that 
the most omnivorous reader could probably satisfy his literary 

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PBOOEEDmoB FOB 1910 Ixxxiii 

cravings if he knew no language but his own. And if you exclude 
our college and university teachers and scholars, probably not one 
person in 500 who learn modem languages ever uses them after- 
ward in conversation or could use them even if it were necessary. 
The teachers and the scholars gain their mastery of foreign lan- 
guages by studying in foreign countries, and the small circle of 
persons outside these who will ever need to speak foreign languages 
might be advised to follow the same course." 

Undoubtedly this is true and, from one point of view, 
reason enough for relegating the study of foreign lan- 
guages, ancient and modem, to " innocuous desuetude.'* 
Equally telling arguments in defense of linguistic training 
can, no doubt,- be made, though this is not the occasion to 
do so. We must admit, however, that there are many 
and will be an ever increasing number of educators who 
sympathize with President Schurman's views, if, eventu- 
ally, it should prove impossible to make a better showing 
in the matter of foreign language study and teaching, if 
it should be found impracticable to reorganize and differ- 
entiate the secondary school curricula so as to permit the 
taking up those languages at an earlier stage — say, in the 
present seventh grade. Could that be done — and it is 
done to a considerable extent already and with excellent 
success — there is little doubt that a great step in advance 
would be taken. In my judgment this Association may 
well exert itself to urge and press the desirability or, 
rather, necessity of the reform suggested. For the pres- 
ent, however, I do not wish to discuss this phase of the 
prcublem. I merely wish to point out the fact that even 
well-recognized leaders in education are driven to a critical 
attitude in the premises. 

Mention was made a moment since of the well-nigh 
insurmountable obstacle of our unwillingness to focus 
secondary instruction in fewer centres. Germany with 

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her 65,000,000 population has only some 1125 prepara- 
tory schools of all sorts, — Oymnasien, Realgymnasien, 
Oberrealsch/iden, — ^while America, according to the Educa- 
tion Eeport of 1909, has 9317 public schools and 1212 
private schools of supposedly equal rank, making a grand 
total of 10,529^ institutions engaged in secondary edu- 
cation, or more than nine times as many as (Germany 

To aid us in forming a still clearer idea of our scattered 
educational plant — ^more particularly as affecting our own 
specific field — the following representative figures may 

Number of Sbcokdabt Schools ik Nobth Centbal States 
Teachiko : * — 


One Two Three Four 
Year Tears Years Years Total 

Ohio 6 120 29 60* 215 

Ind (estimated) 160 

111 18 126 48 36 228 

Mich. 160 26 25 200 

Wis 173 21 13 207 

Minn. (ofallgrades) 186 

Nebr. 30 61 5 3 99 

Mo 92 25 3 120 

Eans (estimated) 116 

N. Dak 54 34 3 ... 91 

S. Dak ? 

Iowa». 21 118 13 11 168 

This table, it will be perceived, presents some secondary 
Schools in our territory alone as giving instruction in 

'Cf. p. 1124 of said Report 

* It has been found impossible to obtain complete and detailed 
statistics in all cases. 

'Data four years old. 

*This comprises both the "accredited" and the "recognized" high 
schools: cf. The Ohio Teacher for November, 1910, p. 132. 




















































(of all grades 

) 6 






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pfioCESDUfGS FOB 1910 Ixxxv 

German,^ as teaching French or other Bomance tongues. 
The task of providing teachers who shall be even fairly 
adequately trained is manifestly an erroneous one. 

The department of high school inspection of the Uni- 
versity of Nebraska lately undertook, at my request, an 
inquiry as to the status of German teaching in schools 
" accredited " by the North Central Association of (Col- 
leges and Secondary Schools. From replies to a question- 
naire sent to these schools — 330 responding — the follow- 
ing instructive data were gathered: 

Number of Teachers of German (in said 330 schools), 666 

Number of First Year Students, 16,276 

Number of Second Year Students, 9,778 

Number of Third Year Students, 3,730 

Number of Fourth Year Students, 1,349 

Or, assuming that the remainder of the (approximately) 
800 secondary schools holding membership, in the Asso- 
ciation showed the same proportions, the grand totals 
would appear to be: 

Number of Teachers of German (in entire North Cen- 
tral territory), 1,370 

Number of First Year Students, 37,030 

Number of Second Year Students, 11,683 

Number of Third Year Students, 8,982 

Number of Fourth Year Students, 3,678 

Total number of pupils studying German, - - 61,186 

Undoubtedly these figures are somewhat too high for 
the class of schools considered, since among those replying 
to the questionnaire were those of Chicago, Cleveland, 
St. Louis, Milwaukee, Detroit, and other larger centres. 

^ 1377 exclusive of Illinois, South Dakota and North Dakota. No 
statistics were available. 

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Yet, considering that only the strongest and best schools 
can gain standing in the Association and that Q^rman is 
taught in a very large number of schools not thus recog- 
nized, the actual and reai totals of both teachers and 
students of German would be greatly increased. 

These figures cannot fail to bring home to us the weight 
of the burden which the secondary schools have under- 
taken to carry, and the magnitude of the task which they 
are attempting to perform. As has already been said, 
they make us realize the immensity of the undertaking 
to provide adequately trained teachers for them. 

Turning for a moment to the matter of teachers* prepa- 
ration for that work, the questionrmre above referred to 
yielded the following data: 

Teachers of German (in the 330 schools replying), - - 566 

College and university graduates, 431 

Normal school graduates, 69 

Preparation not stated, 66 

Have taken collegiate "teachers' course," 276 

Speak German as native tongue, 185 

Residence study or abroad, or both, 195 

Average time spent in studying college German, - - 3% yrs. 

Average experience in teaching German, - - . - 3 yrs. 

These data again, are, no doubt, somewhat too favorable 
for the entire North Central section, for the reason already 
assigned, viz., that the smaller schools were, on the whole, 
not so prompt in reporting their status as the larger ones. 
Still, some facts stand out prominently enough. First: 
there is a gratifying percentage (76% +) of college 
graduates engaged in the work. Again, a large number 
reporting speak German " von Haus aus," while still more 
have enjoyed residence or study abroad. Approximately 
one-half of the teachers of German have availed them- 
selves of special collegiate teachers' courses. The time 

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PBOOEBDmos FOB 1910 Ixxxvii 

given to preparation — an average of 3% years above a two- 
year high school course — certainly proves the willingness 
of teachers of German to qualify for their calling. There 
is no escaping that conclusion. Our individual experi- 
ence, unsupported by statistics, likewise leaves us to con- 
clude that the young people whom we send to the secondary 
schools are ready to avail themselves of every opportxmity 
we offer them to fit themselves fairly for their work. 

If this is a fair statement, if it comports with facts, I 
can reach no other conclusion than that we, their mentors, 
advisers and teachers, must bear a large share of the blame 
visited — and often justly — upon secondary school work. 
We make the teachers, we determine their qualifications, 
both theoretical and practical. The methods and ideals 
they pursue, the views and estimates of essentials which 
they seek to apply, yes, often the very tools which they 
employ in their work, are those we exemplified and used 
in training them. Nay, more. School officers — ^boards, 
superintendents, and principals, are, as a rule, ready and 
willing to accept our judgment regarding teachers' quali- 
fications; they certainly welcome any helpful suggestion 
as to courses to be given, possible methods of improve- 
ments, text-books to be used, etc. The teachers themselves 
are conscientiously endeavoring to discharge their duties 
to the best of their ability. 

Hence it would seem that we, the teachers and trainers 
of teachers, are not entitled to too free an exercise of 
fault-finding and criticism, no matter who else is entitled 
to that time-honored prerogative. 

If, now, we turn for a moment to an examination of the 
collegiate courses required of the angehenden Lehramts- 
kandidaten, we find, naturally enough, considerable vari- 
ation both in theory and practice, in character and amount 

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of work insisted on. E. g., in Glerman 38 * and 22 
semestral hours of collegiate studies — i. e., those above a 
two-year secondary school course — seem to mark the max- 
ima and minima respectively. The general practice is 
to demand from 25-30 hours; i. e., from one fifth to 
one-fourth of the entire collegiate course. Cultural sub- 
jects predominate largely. Literature, the study of its 
development, the historical development of che language 
(frequently including Middle High Glerman), a more or 
less intensive study of special periods and authors, the 
classics, the modems, naturally furnish the piece de 
resistance of the course. To these more specifically 
cultural subjects are added more or less intensive and 
extended courses in conversational exercises and compo- 
sition,^ likewise — ^though only sporadically — Vortrage tmd 
Sprechubungen dealing with the Glerman customs, culture, 
history, and geography,* and finally, special teachers' 
courses, varying from two to five semestral hours, and 
dealing with the pedagogical side of the teacher's training. 
As I have already said, the insistance upon the cultural 
element in these collegiate courses is perfectly natural 
and, perhaps, necessary. It is natural because the average 
college teacher finds cultural studies more engaging, more 
congenial, more interesting, than the humbler, more 
formal disciplines. No doubt we are right in stressing, 
in the students' preparation, studies that will develop 
scholarly habits of thought, that will acquaint him with 
the spiritual treasures of the people whose language he 
studies, that will furnish him the ability to appreciate, 
scientifically, the course of evolution in literature and 

* University of Wisconsin. 

'The University of Illinois requires three courses in composition. 

'Indiana University. 

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PBOOixDiNos FOB 1910 Ixxxix 

language. The teachers in our secondary schools should 
have a broad outlook upon their chosen field. Their course 
of study should dear the vision and open wide vistas to the 
best their line of work affords. 

^N'evertheless it must not be forgotten that the specific 
work which they are called upon to do differs very widely 
from that which we insist on so strenuously in their 
preparation. Here, it seems to me^ lies the vulnerable 
point in our present method of procedure. If our students 
are to teach effectively, acceptably, professionally, we must 
recognize the problems they have to solve and prepare them 
to do so. Whether this involves, necessarily, a lessening 
of cultural requirements, I leave you to judge. Perhaps 
the scriptural injunction, " This ye should do, and not 
leave the other undone," applies in the premises. Cer- 
tainly the prosecution, and even the successful prosecution, 
of mere cultural branches is not a guarantee of successful 
teaching. Specific means to insure their success need to 
be provided, if possible. 

Of course, we are all aware that, say, the Gterman system 
of requiring a Probejdhr or Probejahre as supplementary 
to an extensive and intensive theoretical and cultural 
preparation is the ideal procedure, is ideally the correct 
and effective panacea for educational ills. Especially so, 
if the candidate has had the opportunity of spending some 
time in the foreign country whose language he is to teach. 
Then again the principle, and its strict enforcement by 
educational authorities, of definitely limiting and circum- 
scribing the grade or class of work teachers may be 
called upon to do, of strict civil service rules, governing 
the advancement in the profession, and of careful and 
searching inspection by competent authority, inevitably 
make for thoroughness and professional effectiveness. 
But most, if not all, of these guarantees of success are 

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denied us, denied us by the very logic and nature of our 
situation. All the college and university professors in 
the land cannot change certain determining economic 
conditions. That is a truism apparent to all. 

However, admitting these facts is by no means 
equivalent to confessing our inability to do something 
towards improving the situation, if we resolutely apply 
ourselves to do so. It is in our power and means to give 
the would-be teachers fairly adequate professional training 
and thus to enhance their capacity for better work. Nor 
is it lowering our standards of collegiate instruction nor 
demeaning sound educational ideals to give this training. 
Preparing teachers should no longer be a " side-issue,'* 
even if they are, largely, daughters of Eve. If we would 
better the nature and character of the work done in the 
secondary schools, if we would make our own earlier 
college years more effective, we must not deem it beneath 
our dignity to be and become teachers of teachers. 

What now may actually be done in the premises? It 
was in furtherance of finding a sound answer, a practi- 
cable solution to this problem, that I took the liberty of 
addressing a note of inquiry to many of you some weeks 
ago. Needless to say that your kind answers have given 
me much food for thought ; needless, also, to add that, in 
much that I have said and shall say I give you back 
your own. 

Taking the cultural side of our young people's college 
courses for granted — as I think we may — ^we come to 
examine some of the practicable ways and means to in- 
crease their professional training. It is largely a matter 
of aiding them in transforming a Jcennen into a 
leonnen, their static powers into a dynamic force. To 
this end we should do well to impress the young teachers 
with the worth, the dignity, and importance of their call- 

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ing, we should show and demonstrate to them the justice 
and rightfulness of the classics of modem languages -as in- 
struments of scholarly discipline and elements of culture, 
not merely as of more or less utilitarian convenience in 
business or the practice of a profession. As the Com- 
ittee of Ten put it : " The educational effects of modem 
language study will be of immense benefit to all who are 
able to pursue it under competent guidance/' 

Again, we can put them in possession of the best and 
most rational educational thought of to-day. Methods old 
and new, reactionary and advanced, may be discussed and 
illustrated. The aims and objects of the reform movement 
in language teaching should be clearly apprehended by 
the students. No doubt, this will give them a " divine 
discontent" with the results their first tentative efforts 
entail. Furthermore, we can differentiate our courses 
more than we do to meet the practical necessities of our 
students. As one of my correspondents stated it: — 
" There are too many courses in literature and too few in 
grammar, syntax, and composition, etc. Most of the 
teachers in secondary schools know more about German 
literature — ^which they never will teach — ^than about the 
German language. The student must know first the 
language, before he enters into the study of the literature. 
Here lies the difficulty." I thoroughly and absolutely 
agree with the statement. Here lies the difficulty, at least 
a large part of it, and here must come the remedy. 

Then again. Your replies to the questionnaire relative 
to the student teachers' ability fairly to speak the foreign 
tongue only confirmed my own observation and experience. 
Unless gained by a residence abroad or by the good fortune 
of being bom into a German or French household where 
there was a grandfather or grandmother innocent of a 
knowledge of English, the future teachers are but indiffer- 

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ently equipped in this direction. "Only a few," " possibly 
25 per cent.," " not many," " from 10 to 20 per cent," are 
illustrations of the answers to the question. Sometimes, 
to be sure, more favorable estimates are given. In this 
connection, it should be said that the French departments 
seemed to make a better showing than the German. 
Query: What is the cause? Smaller classes? Fewer in- 
herent diflSculties? Greater insistence upon the accom- 
plishment ? 

When we consider that a decently ready command of 
the spoken language is well-nigh indispensable if one 
would give life, vigor, and zest to instruction therein, the 
state of things just alluded to is disheartening. I know 
" that the teacher must be more than an animated phono- 
graph," and that to insist upon a thorough speaking 
knowledge of a foreign language is chasing a will-o'-the- 
wisp. Nor is such " thorough knowledge " necessary. 
We cannot in fairness demand that every teacher in our 
secondary schools shall have a sufficient command of the 
foreign language to base his — rather, her — ^instruction 
entirely upon the practice of the neuere Richtung. But 
we inay, if we will, inssist upon their acquiring a sufficient 
knowledge of the spoken tongue, a sufficient ready com- 
mand of simple speech, to enable them to make their 
teaching really vital and effective. We can devote more 
time and energy to putting this indispensable tool at their 
command, and thereby enhance the quality of the work 
they have to do. Particularly should we take greater 
pains with acquainting them with the Realien that are 
so important a staple in effective secondary school 

In connection with the matter of Realien as fit language 
material, it is interesting to note an item in the LeseJeanon 
actually obtaining in our schools. An inquiry as to the 

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texts used in first and second year teaching netted the fol- 
lowing results: Of the 330 schools already referred to as 
replying to the questionnaire, 148 used Immensee; 103 
Gliick Auf!; 85 WUhelm Tell; 70 Im Vaterland; 59 
Hbher ais die Kirche; 38 Orubers Mdrchen und Erzahl- 
ungen-y 33 Germelshausen. Other texts are less widely 

Xow, no doubt, the well-known tendency on the part of 
all of us to do what has been done is responsible for a 
good part of this showing. But the particular point to be 
noted is what seems to me the prenomenal success of a 
book that has been available for less than a year. The 
schools certainly crave material such as is offered in Im 
Vaterland. Everything else being equal, books that deal 
with the home life, the habits and manners, the traditions 
and legends, the social and educational institutions, are 
sure to commend themselves to both teacher and pupils. 
They make it seem worth while to " dig " ; they bring 
language study down from the clouds and appeal even to 
the unimaginative schoolboy. 

But to return to the more immediate question before 
us — the practical and practicable means of raising the 
efficiency of language instruction. Teachers should un- 
derstand that more definite results are to be striven for. 
It is our business to aid in the realization of these results. 
On this point one of our honored colleagues writes: 
" Standardize the work by outlining definite results to be 
attained which will prevent 'wild cat^ methods; giving, 
e. g., the amount and sort of work to be done each term, 
with sample examination papers." This, you will admit, 
is a valuable suggestion where it can be carried out, 
particularly so, if joined to his other demand : " Require 
of all candidates at least 30 hours of college German, with 
a grade I.'* 

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Another plank in a progressive educational platform, 
and one which is thoroughly sound, has been contributed 
by another one of my correspondents : " Closer inspection 
of high schools by expert representatives of leading uni- 
versities (in our territory principally the state univer- 
sities), not so much with a view of official grading and 
reporting as of personal advice and encouragement. I 
am not so much thinking," he goes on to say, "of the 
work of the regular * high-school inspector ^ of the uni- 
sity, but of the special representatives of those depart- 
ments that deal with important high school subjects." 

We might do something toward raising the standaid of 
efficiency by keeping in closer touch with our students 
after leaving college. Wherever friendly visiting is 
feasible, it certainly should be done. Where conditions 
do not warrant such direct contact, departments might 
resort to the issuance of occasional circulars, setting forth 
various aspects of specific problems. Teachers could then 
be kept informed of new and suitable texts or other aids 
to instruction; a certain fellowship and solidarity of pro- 
fessional interests could be established, an esprit de corps 
cultivated. It would be no slight gain to educational 
efficiency to have every teacher of French or Q^rman or 
English realize that the highest institution of the state 
system of education was directly, actively, sympatheti- 
cally and helpfully interested in his or her success. It 
might even be advisable — though I am not sure of the 
feasibility of the suggestion I am about to make — ^for this 
Association to join forces with an equally representative 
•body of secondary school interests for the purpose of 
issuing, say, a " Monthly High-School Visitor " for 
teachers of the modem languages, including English. 
Modern Language Notes do not, it seems to me, meet 
the needs of the average high school instructor, admirable 

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though that periodical is otherwise. The Padagogische 
Monatshefte, again, exceedingly suggestive and helpful to 
those able to avail themselves of their contents, are like- 
wise beyond the great mass of teachers in our public 
schools. Perhaps I underestimate their capacity and 
needs. I hope I do. No doubt some can and do derive 
much inspiration and help from these publications. But 
I very much doubt that very many secondary teachers 
can or do make them directly serviceable in their work. 

Then again, school authorities should have it forced 
upon them very energetically that effective modem lan- 
guage teaching, including English, requires the very best 
teachers and that, e. g., Latin per se is not entitled to any 
superior rank or position in the educational curriculum, 
nor Latin teachers per se to " deanships " in high school 
faculties. This fact is often overlooked, not only by the 
general public, but even by superintendents and princi- 
pals. In most, though not all, of the higher institutions 
of learning in our territory, students bringing good 
modem language preparation are admitted to all the 
courses of the college. This Association should bestir 
itself to gain for the modem languages perfect and com- 
plete equality with the ancient tongues. " It is but just 
to praise the ancients," says von Trefort, the former Aus- 
trian Minister of Education, " but to praise them in order 
to depreciate the modems is an emanation of ignorance 
or the fancy of pedagogues." 

And, finally, we can increase the efficiency of language 
teaching, at least indirectly, by availing ourselves of the 
good that comes from closer organization. So far, we in 
the West have been greatly remiss in this particular. In 
our district and state teachers' associations meetings, the 
teachers of modem languages are, of course, greatly in 
the minority. There is little or no time to come together 

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in helpful professional intercourse. If the modem lan- 
guage teachers must meet during the regularly set state 
teachers' meetings — and I am inclined to think that is 
the only feasible plan — they might, at least, use the time 
thus appointed in considering and discussing their own 
specific work. To this end a closer organization should 
be effected in every state, an organization embracing lan- 
guage teachers of all ranks and schools. It should be 
the emphatic and distinct purpose of that organization — 
as it is that of the British Modem Language Associa- 
tion — " to raise the standard of eflSciency in Modem 
Languages, to promote their study in the schools, and to 
obtain for thenj their proper place in the Educational 
Curricula of the country .... to help them feel that 
they are not isolated units, but a learned body, pro- 
fessionally trained." 

Ladies and Gentlemen: — ^Your speaker trusts that the 
means and method of increasing the efficiency of modern 
language teaching suggested in this address are not mere 
visionary, impracticable schemes or dreams. He knows 
that radical changes cannot be brought about in a day 
or a year, but he knows, too, that a resolute effort on the 
part of educators will, in time, be rewarded with success. 
We can and we do give trend and direction to educational 
thought and practice. This Association, conscious of the 
great worth and value of the neo-humanistic culture and 
social aspiration expressing itself in the modem tongues — 
l^nglish, German, French, — ^is in duty bound to shape 
efficient instrumentalities for the spread of that culture. 
To prepare a body of eager, high-minded, enthusiastic 
young men and women for effective teaching in our 
secondary schools is one of our highest prerogatives. In 
no other way can we do as much for the commonwealth 
as by giving back to it strong, competent, professionally 
trained teachers; in no way better uphold and foster 
sound educational ideals. 

Digitized by 


PBOOBEDmae fob 1910 zovii 



CblUffe qfthe atyqfNew York, New York, N. Y, 



Umivenii^ f^f Ihbroika, Lincoln, Neb. University qf Chicago, Chicago, lU. 

Bryn Mawr Cblleg^, Bryn Mawr, Pa, 

Secretary, 2V«Mur<r, 


Martard Univcnity, QimMdgt, Mau. Harvard Univortity, Cambridge, Mate, 

Chairman, SeareUxry, 


UMeereity qT WUconeim, Madieon, Wit. State Vnivertiiy nf Iowa, Iowa (My, la. 



Takme Univertity qf Lottieiana, New Orleane, La. 


Weitem Beeerve UMvereity, Cleveland, 0. Uniifereitg eS Oilifomia, Berkeley, QO, 


UMvereiiy qf Chicago, Chicago, III. Yale UnioerHly, Nexo Haven, Conn. 


Vnivoreity qf Virginia, CharloUeeviUe, Va, aiumbia University, New York, N. Y. 



S!arva>rd Un iee rs ity, Cambridge, Mass. State University qf Iowa, Iowa City, la. 


Oflmibia UniverHty, New York, N. Y. Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Mi. 

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Adopted on the Twenty-ninth of Decembbb^ 1903. 

The name of this Society shall be The Modem Language 
Association of America^ 


1. The object of this Association shall be the advance- 
ment of the study of the Modem Languages and tiieir 
Literatures thru the promotion of friendly relations among 
scholars, thru the publication of the results of investigation 
by members, and thru 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. 


Any person whose candidacy has been approved by the 
Secretary and Treasurer may become a member on the 
payment 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 

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PBOcxEDHfos FOB 1910 xcix 

member bj a single payment of forty dollars or by the 
payment of fifteen dollars a year for three successive years. 
Distingoisht foreign scholars may be elected to honorary 
membership by the Association on nomination by the 
Executive Council. 


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 officio), 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. 

8. 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 Meet- 
ings shall be filled by the Executive Council. 


1. The President, Vice-Presidents, Secretary, and 
Treasurer shall perform the usual duties of such officers. 
The Secretary shall, furthermore, have charge of the Pub- 
lications 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, moreover, determine such questions of policy as may 

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be referred to it by the Association and such as may arise 
in the course of the year and call for immediate decision. 
3. The Editorial Committee shall render such assis- 
tance as the Secretary may need in editing the Publications 
of the Association tod preparing the annual program. 


1. The Association may, to further investigation in any 
spcfcial branch of Modem 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 


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 ar- 
range with these members to form a Division, with power 
to call a meeting at such place and time €is 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 Divi- 
sions shall not at any time exceed three. The present 
Division is hereby continued. 

2. The membefrs 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 

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PB0CESDIK08 FOB 1910 ci 

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 by the Secretary of the Division in consultation 
with the Secretary of the Association* 


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 

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Digitized by 




Proceedings of the Twenty-eighth Annual Meeting of the Modern 
Language Association of America, held at the G>llege of the 
City of New York, N. Y., and at Washington University, 
St. Louis, Mo., December 28, 29, 30, 1910. 

Thb Association Meeting 

Address of Welcome. By Acting President Adolfh Wbrnek, iv 

Report of the Secretary, -- vv 

Report of the Treasurer, -------- iy 

Appointment of Committees, ------- yii 

1. The Influence of Greene on Shakspere's Earlier Romances. 

By Joseph L. Tynan, viii 

2. The Influence of Reprints upon the texts of Goethe's Works. 

By W. EuRRELMEYEB, - viii 

3. A Reclassification of the Pereevcd Romances. By Geobgs 

B. Woods, viii 

4. Aspects of the Seicenio : (1) Pessimism, (2) Sensuality, (3) 

Science and the Omeetio. By Abthub A. Livinoston, ix 

5. Scott's Ivanhoe and Sidney's Arcadia. . By Samuel Lee 

Wolff, ix 

The Address of the President of the Association : 

The Economic Interpretation of Literary History. By 

Brander Matthews, ix 

Report of the Committee on the Reproduction of Early Texts, - ix 

Communication from the Bibliographical Society of America, - x 

Report of the Committee on the Scope of the PubUcations^ - xii 

Report of the Committee of Fifteen, xii 

6. The Text of Petrarch. By Kenneth McKenzie, - - xviii 

7. The Queenes Maiesties Entertainment at Woodstocke (15B5). 

By John William Cunliffb, xviii 

8. Some German ZdhUieder, By Emil A. C. Kefpleb, - xiz 

9. Salmagundi and the Knickerbocker School. By Ebwabd E. 

Hale, Jr., xix 

10. Enueg, By Raymond Thompson Hill, - - - - xix 

Meeting of the Concordance Society, xix 


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11. Shul and Shal in the Chaucer Manuscripts, By Cabletok 

F. Brown, xx 

12. The Influence of the Medieval Christian Visions of Jean de 

Meun. Bj Stanley L. Galkn, .... xx 

13. Wilhelm HaufTs Specific Relation to Walter Scott By 

Gabbett W. Thompson, xx 

14. Some Stylistic Features of The Misfortunes cf Arthur, By H. 

C. Gbumbine, xxi 

16. The Troubadour Camo and Latin Lyric Poetry. By Fbed- 


Meeting of the American Dialect Society, xxi 

Beport of the Committee on Honorary Membership, - . . zxii 
Report of the Delegates to a Joint Conference on a Fonetic Eng- 
lish Alphabet, xxiii 

Resolution on the deth of Professor Elliott, .... xziy 
Report of the Committee on the Announcement of Subjects of 

Doctoral Dissertations, xxiv 

Report of Nominating Committee, ...... xxv 

Resolution of Thanks, xxv 

16. Shylock. By Elmeb Edgab Stoll, ... - xxvi 

17. The Life and Works of Jehan de Vignay. By Guy E. 

Snavelt, • xxvi 

18. Chaucer and Edward III. By Sahuel Moobe, - - xxvi 

19. The Question of the Origin of the Tannhauser Legend. By 

Abthub F. J. Remy, xxvii 

20. La G^graphie Linguistique. By L. A. Tebbacheb, - xxvi 

21. From Fact to Fiction, 1663-1673. By Ebnest Bebkbaux, xxviii 

22. Survival of Germanic Heathendom in Pennsylvania, l&j £. 

M. FOGBL, xxviii 

23. An English Friend of Charles of Orl^ns. By H. N. Mac- 

Cbacken, xxviii 

24. Some Notes on Stephen Hawes. By Albbbt K. Potteb, xxix 

25. The Source of a Medieval Latin Legend. By Gboboe M. 

Pbiebt, xxix 

Papers red by Title, --------- xxix 

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The CsMTBAii Division Msbtinq 

Appointment of Committees, xzxy 

1. The Relation of Dryden's Es»ay on Dramatic Poesit to Lea- 

sing with Special Reference to the Seventeenth LiUraJtur- 

brief. By Mmtov D. Baumgjlbtnsb, ... xzzyi 

2. Aristotle's Doctrine of Katharsis and the Positive or Con- 

structive Activity Involved. By Abthub Hisnrt 

RoLPH Faibchhj), xxxvi 

8. Some Observations upon Weltliteratur. By Philifp Sei- 

BEBTH, xxxvi 

4. The Ecclesiastical Element in the Romanic Languages. By 

'WiNTHEOP Holt Chenbby, xxxvii 

5. Streckformen — Heinrich Schroder und die Eritik. By Ebnst 

Voss, xxxvii 

Address of the Chairman of the Division : 

Can the Efficiency of Modem Language Instruction in 
Secondary Schools be Raised? By Laubxnce Foes- 

LKB, xxxvii 

Address of Welcome. Chancellor David Fbankun Houbtok, 

of Washington University, --.---- xxxviii 
Appointment of Committee on a Permanent Fund for the Asso- 
ciation, xxxix 

6. The Form of Doctor Faustus, By Elbxbt N. S. Thomfsok, xli 

7. Crestien's and Wolfram's Description of the Grail Castle. 

By WniLiAM Albebt Nitze, xli 

8. Two Notes: (a) L* Allegro and The Paesumate Shepheard; 

(b) The 'corounes two' in the Second Nun^ 8 Tale, By 
• John Livingston Lowes, xli 

9. Forsoningen in Tegner's Fritiofssaga. By Albbbt Mobey 

Stdbtevant, xlii 

Departmental Meetings : — 

English, xliii 

Germanic Languages, xliv 

Romance Languages, xlv 

Report of Nominating Committee, ...... xlvi 

Report of Committee on Place of Meeting, .... xlvii 

Resolution on the deth of Professor Rhoades, - • <» - xlvii 

Resolution on the deth of Professor Matzke, .... xlviii 

Report of Committee on Reproduction of Early Texts, - - zlix 

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Report of Committee to consider the qaeetion of revising the 

Beport of the Committee of Twelve, xlix 

Be6olatioDS| 1 

10. The Order of Stories in the Sept Sages de Borne. By Hugh 

AixiBON Smith, li 

11. A Suggestion for a New Edition of Butler's Hxidibras, Bj 

Edward Chauncey Baldwin, lii 

12. Qoethe's Oeheimnisse, Bj Julius Goibel, - - - Hi 

13. The English Morality Defined. By W. Roy Mackenzie, lii 

14. The Authorship of The Spoyle of Antwerpe (Nov. 1570). By 

John William Cunlifpe, liii 

15. Modern Elements in Luther's Educational Ideas. By War- 

ben Washburn Florer, liii 

16. The Clerk of Oxenford. By Harrie Stuabt Vedder 

Jones, liii 

17. The Dialect of Basilicata. By Alfonso de Salyio, • - liii 

18. The Modern Languages as a Cultural Factor in the College 

Curriculum. By T. Lindsey Blayney, - - - Hv 

Papers red by Title, liv 

Address of the President of the Association : 

The Economic Interpretation of Literary History. By 

Brander Matthews, Iviii 

Address of the Chairman of the Central Division : 

Can the Efficiency of Modem Language Teaching in the 

Secondary Schools be Raised 7 By Laxtrbncb Fosbler, Izxiv 

Officers of the Association, xcvii 

The Constitution of the Association, xcviii 

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1« Members wishing to present papers at the meeting are expected to prepare 
them for that particular purpose. Extremely technical treatises may be read 
by title. Subjects too large to be treated in an ordinary paper, and topics too 
special to be of general interest, may be brought before the meeting in the form 
of abstracts lasting from five to ten minutes. The papers read in full hhould be 
so constructed as not to occupy more than twenty (or, at most, thirty) minutes. 

2. Every member offering a paper, whether it is to be read in full or not, shall 
submit to the Secretary, by November 15, with its title, a synopsis of its contents, 
consisting of some fifty or sixty words. He shall state, at the same time, whether 
he thinks his paper should be 'presented by title only, summarized in an abstract, 
or read in fulL The synopses of accepted papers are to be printed on the pro- 

3. The Secretaiy shall select the program from the papers thus offered, 
trying to distribute the matter in such a way as to make all the sessions attractive. 
In general not more than an hour and a half shall be devoted to the presentation 
of papers at any one session. There shaU be sufficient opportunity for discussion 
and for social intercourse. 

4. The question of publication is to be decided for each paper on its merits as 
a contribution to science, without regard to the form in which it has been pre- 
sented at the meeting. 

5. Charges exceeding an average of forty-five cents per galley of the first 
proof for authors' additions and corrections in the proof of articles printed in the 
Publicaiiom shall be paid by the authors incurring them. 

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Ptesidmtt Lewis F. Mott, OoUegex^the Oity of New Forky New York^ N Y. 
Secretaryf C EL QBAKDaENT, Harvard Umvetsity, Cambridge, Mass, 
Treasurer^ William Ouiu) Howard, Harvard Unwersity, Cambridge, Mass, 


Laurence Fossler, UnwersUy of Nebraska, Lincoln, Neb, 
WnjJAM A. NiTZE, UnwersUy of Chicago, Chicago, El. 
Carleton F. Brown, Bryn Mawr College, Bryn Mawr, Pa, 


Chairman, Frank G. Hubbard, Universiiy of WisaofMxix, Madison, Wis, 
Secretary, Charles Bundy Wn^BON, State University of Iowa, Iowa City, la. 

Ai>ctB FoRTDER, TuUme University of Lomsiana, New Orleans, La. 

Charles Harris, Western Reserve University, Cleveland, O. 

Charles Mills Gatlet, University of California, Berkeley, Cal. 

John M. Manly, University of Chicago, Chicago, IlL 

GusTAV Gruener, Yale University, New Haven, Conn, 

C. Alphonso Smith, University cf Virginia, ChariottesvilU, Va. 

Henry A. Todd, Columbia University, New York, N, Y. 


0. H. Grandgent, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass, 

Charles Bundy Wh^on, State University of Iowa, Iowa City, la. 

Calvin Thomas, Ookmbia University, New York, N. Y. 

James W. Bright, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md. 

Digitized by 



V-'''^i^^- '^'^ 



Modern Language Association 






JUNE, 1911 

pubusht quabtxblt bt ths aflbociation 

At 107 Walkeb Street, Cambridge, Mabb. 

BosTOK PosTAij District 

SuBSOBiPTiOH Pbicx (3.00 A Yeab ; SnroLS Numbebs $1.00 

Pbhtted by J. H. Furst Compaky 


Battrtd NoTember 7, 1902, tt Boston, Maas., tm aeoond-dan matter 
nadar Act of Coagreaa of March S, 18791 

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VII. —The PhUological L^end of Cynewulf. By Frederick 

TupPER, Jr., 285-279 

Vni. — The Romance Lyric from the Standpoint of Antecedent Latin 

Documents. By F. M. Warren, - - • - - 280-314 

IX.— The *<Corone8 Two'* of the Second Nun' a Tale, By John 

Livingston Lowes, 315-^23 

X. — Eomantic Tendencies in the Novels of the Abb^ PreTost By 

Benj. M. Woodbridgb, - - - - - - - 324-332 

XL— Romance Etimologies. By Carl C. Rice, .... 333-338 

XII. — ^The Inflnence of PierB Plowman on the Macro Play of Manr 

kind. By Mabel M. Keiller, 339-365 

Xm. — Metipsimus in Spanish and French. By Aurelio M. 

EspiNosA, 356-378 

XlV. — The Harmonizing of Grammatical Nomenclature, with Espe- 

dal Reference to Mood-Syntax. By Wm. Gardner Hale, 379-418 

The annual volume of the PubUeoHons of the Modem Language AsaodaHon of 
America is issued in quarterly instalments. It contains chiefly articles which have 
been presented at the meetings of the Association and approved for publication by 
the Editorial Committee. Other appropriate contributions may be accepted by 
the Committee. The dosing number of each volume includes, in Appendices, the 
Proceedings of the la3t Annual Meeting of the Association and its Divisions. 

The complete sets of the first seven volumes of these Publications are all sold. 
The subsequent volumes, comprising all the New Series, may be obtained of the 
Secretary. The subscription for the current volume is $3.00. The price of single 
numbers is $1.00 each. 

Copies of the Report of the Committee of Twelve on Admission Requirements 
may be obtained of the Secretary. The price is ten cents a copy. 

All communications should be addrest to 

Charles H. Grandoent, 

Seerekury of the Aseociaiionf 
Hairvard UtUMeniby^ Cambridge^ Mom. 

The next meeting of the Association, which will be a Union Meeting, will 
be held in Chicago, on December 27, 28, and 29. Attention is called to the 
regulations printed on the third page of this cover. 

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Modern Language Association of America 


Vol. XXVI, 2 New Series, Vol. XIX, 2 


Bomanoe eeldom atalks frank and undisguised. It 
wears the sober doak of religion in the pious fictions 
of the saints and assumes the honest name of history 
in the inventions of chroniclers. Yet nowhere does 
it veil its face more darkly than in the pages of seemingly 
serious-minded biographers. That curious volume, re- 
corded by Isaac IVIsraeli, the Fdrfallom degli Antichi 
Historid, might easily find its counterpart in our English 
literary apocrypha. The legalized narrative of Alfred's 
splendid foundation of the University of Oxford; Chau- 
cer's life at the University and at Woodstock and his 
base betrayal of his friends; Shakespeare's intrigue with 
William Herbert's mistress; Milton's dream-meeting with 
the fair Italians under the Cambridge tree — ^all these 
have been themes of the legend maker. Now he who 
harks back to the earliest days of Old English prose and 
poetry will find disguised romance lurking everywhere. 
The philologist has often dragged it forth and stripped 
it of its pretences; but he has just as often connived at 


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its rogueries. This connivance has been in the main 
unoonsciousy for the Anglist has been the dupe of his 
methods which have led him all unwitting into the very 
lap of legends. In his fallacies of false assumption^ in 
hia tame acquiescence in unfounded assertions that bear 
a certain stamp of authority and in his proneness to 
manipulate by argument data that he will be branded 
for doubting, the modem scholar is too often akin to 
the medieval schoolman. And so, in his last chapter, 
sly romance has its way with him. 

The world-old attempt to establish by argument the 
authority of faith often leads in its train many errors. 
A lack of open-mindedness and an illiberal disregard of 
opposing opinion that culminates in a contemptuous 
assertiveness, a distortion of scant evidence too weak to 
bear the strain, an abuse of the syllogism in the perverted 
endeavor to adapt false premises to a conclusion that 
admits of large doubt — these have combined to litter with 
worthless debris the field of Old English literary history. 
The present article is devoted not to the upbuilding 
of a thesis, but to a determined effort to dear our 
territory of some of this waste material that merely 
cumbers the work of our hands. 

The Old English poet, Cynewulf, is but a "nominis 
umbra," a featureless phantom, a "ghost that streams 
like a cloud, man-shaped*" We know his name from his 
runic acrostics — ^but that is all. Yet many have been 
the attempts to assign him a local habitation and ' when 
time and place doth not adhere to make both.' Later 
we shall consider other efforts to give the shadow substance, 
but from one judge of all. In a recent essay,* Sarrazin 
asserts that the poet of the Andreas, — whom, with an easy 

^Zur Chronologie und Verfasserfrage AngelsttchBischer Dich> 
tungen/' Englische Studien, xxxym (1907), 146-195. 

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leap from probability to positive identification, he de- 
dares to be Cynewulf, — refers, in his description of a 
very hard winter (12551), to the bitter Northumbrian 
season of 761 — a year known in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle 
as 86 myccla mnter. Such an inference is quite of a 
piece with the amusing ascription by Chaucerian com- 
mentators of ^^ the bote somer that made his [the 
shipman's] hewe al broun " * to the year 1351, with the 
implication that the hardy mariner was sunburned as 
the permanent result of torrid weather thirty-five years 
before the supposed date of his pilgrimage. Truly, a 
" micUe winter," land a " bote somer ! " 

Nor is this all. The use of the word mdrland, in the i^ 
Elene (611), in its Anglian sense of ^^ mountain" is 
strong evidence to Sarrazin that the writer, Cynewulf, 
lived either on the North Yorkshire moors or on the 
Pennine Moorlands. One wonders whether this sort of 
"non sequitur" would domicile in the same region the 
Anglian translator of the Ecclesiastical History, who 
renders Bede's in arduis asperisqv^ mordihus (iv, 27) 
by in heaum rnorum ond in r&Swm.'^ The pinnacle of 
false logic is attained, when references to heorgas (swd 
her mid us) and hlincas in the doubtful Phoenix (21-25, 
31-32) are used to locate comfortably the poet in Hexham 
cloister. How little swd her mid ils implies, I shall 
show in a moment; but, even if we grant its force, it 
is perhaps needless to urge that men may lift up their • 
eyes unto the hills in many parts of England; and that 
hlincas appears inconsiderately enough in South English 
charters.^ Now let me reduce this form of argument 

» Canterbury Tales, " Prologue," A. 394. 

' See Miller's edition, 364, 4, 11, 410, 9; compare Klaeber, Anglia, 
xxvn, 419. 
• See Kemble, Codex Diplotnaticue, in, 223, 9. 

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to an absurdity by attaining through its means quite 
other condujuoais. In a poem in which Cynewulf has pre- 
served his name both by charade and acrostic, Riddle 1,^ 
we are told of the home of Wvlf: fcest is f^ost eglond fenne 
biworpen. It might be argued, with large show of ineaeon, 
that in this personal passage the poet pictures his abode 
in the fenlands, since the line finds its exact equivalent 
in Bede's description of Ely: Is Elig f^cst land ecUl mid 

'See my article in Modern Language Notee, Dec., 1910. Let the 
scholars who balk at the ** Cynwvdt ** interpretation of the Fvrat 
Riddle answer these questions. Is there any inherent improbability 
in the presence of the writer's name in a charade-acrostic at the 
head of a group of Old English riddles T Does not Aldhelm, 
often our riddler's guide, preface with a name-acrostic his enigmas? 
Does not Cynewulf show elsewhere his fondness for both charade 
and runic acrostic; and do not he and other writers sometimes 
combine these T Are there not good grounds for regarding Riddle 
90 as a *' Qynewulf '' charade and for recognizing a close parallel 
between dpecgan (Rid. IV) &nd tribulantes {Rid, 90*) ? Do not name- 
charades usuaiUy begin with a synonym of the first syllable (see ex- 
ample cited from Rawlinson MS.) ? Is it not therefore permissible to 
find in the opening word of our poem, L^dum, a synonym of 
oyn (see JuUana charade), and to note the recurrence of wulf at the 
head of subsequent divisions? Do not hit and hine in the second line 
refer to L^odwn {Oyn) and Wulf, and, if so, shall we close our 
eyes to the obvious interpretation? Has it not been shown that 
runes in Icelandic are often replresented by their name-words 
or by synonyms of these names? If in Icelandic, why not in 
Old English, where the reverse method is three times followed 
by the very writer in question? Is not the clue to the punle 
fully given in lines 2 and 7? Is not artistic design suggested 
by the appearance, within this poem of less than twenty lines, 
of perfectly fitting synonyms of all the " Cynwulf " rune names 
(see my article) ? Is any other runic substitution possible? Are 
not these very rune-names those suggested by the runes in Cynewulf i 
other poems, which are scattered through the discourse in just 
such fashion as their equivalents here? Is not such a rdteeUn^rehen 
as Riddle 1 (see my edition, pp. xxi-xxii) as adequate a vehicle 
for the poet's name as the apocalyptic references <^ Riddle 90 or 
the ''Judgment" scenes of the religious poems? 

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fernie and mid wester ymbseald.^ Then we might go 
farther and contend, after Sarrazin's preoedent, that the 
several referenoes in Beowulf to the fens assign to that 
poem a Mercian home. But observe the futility of all 
such arguments. In Riddle 41, 31-32, which is certainly 
of Northumbrian origin, as it comes from the author of 
the Leiden Riddle,^ we encounter the clause, fhs fen 
stvearte, ^cet her yfle adelan stince'6, in which her finds 
no warrant in Aldhelm. As a Northerner of fens, so 
might a Mercian or Southerner, with more reason, of 
mountains.^ I shall discuss later the unhappy attempt 
of another legend-maker to elevate our obscure poet to 
the episcopal seat at Lindisf ame. 

Thus far we have had to do with arguments that cannot 
stand upiught. I come now to a fallacious bit of reasoning 
more weighty both because it does not lack the support 
of evidence and because it has received universal accept- 
ance. In an artide of wide influence,* Sievers has ai^ed 
that because Cynewulf employs the unstressed e in two 
of the runic versions of his name (in the Juliana and the 
Elene) his work falls after 750, and is therefore posterior 

^Ecel, Hist,, TV, 19. Very like are the description of the marflhy 
Bite of Ramsey (HUtoria Ramesietma, Bolls Ser. 1S86, pp. 7-8) and 
Asser's account of the swampy surroundings of Athelney {De Rebua 
Oeatis ^Ifredi, A. D. 888). Such "islands encompassed by fen" 
were certainly not found in Northern England. 

• See my Riddles of the Eweter Book, 1910, p. 163. 

•This practice of selecting a word from an author's vocabulary ^^ 
and of basing upon that selection sweeping ooncluftions as to his 
origin is strikingly illustrated by Sievers' argument {PBB, x, 473) 
that the word, merso, Ewodus, 333 (which he asserts to be a nonoe- 
xisage) assigns to the writer of this biblical epic a home near 
Bomney Marsh in Kent. Reference to Grein's Sprachsohatss, n, 
234 (see also Mdrkens, Bonner Beitrdge, u, 87 f.) shows that the 
word appears in the "Northern" poetical Psalter, (IOC**, on 
sealtne merso), composed doubtless hundreds of miles from Bomney. 

* Anglia, xnr, 1-21. 

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to such poems as the Leiden Riddle, Coddmon's Hymn 
end Bede's Death Sang, all of whidi prefer the unstreesed 
i. This tenet has become a pillar of faith to our sdiool- 
men. But to it there are two very strong objections: 
it is not supported even by the evidence that Sievers 
offers; and it fails utterly to consider the oiroumstanoes 
under which Cynewulf used the unstressed e in his name- 
passages. No one can deny that unstressed i dominates 
until about 740, and that after 740 unstressed e is pre- 
dominant Such a belief is confirmed not only by the 
Charters, but by the Moore ms. of Bede's History and 
by the early Olosses. But that at any period of the 
eighth century either prevailed to such utter exclusion 
of the other, that an acrostic-writer was precluded from 
choosing the letter better suited to his purposes, the 
evidence seems to deny. The unstressed e appears twice 
in a Charter of 692, the unstressed e appears once in a 
Charter of 700-715, the unstressed e is dominant in 
Charters of 740 and 742 (note the form Cyneberht).^ 
On the other hand, as Sievers admits, the unstressed i 
prevails in a document of 767 (No. 11). Moreover 
the conclusion that the traditional i form was practically 
obsolete in all parts of England by the end of the eighth 
century is flatly contradicted by the Liber Vitae (or the 
list of benefactors to the Durham Church in the Cotton 
MS. Domitian A. 7), in which i forms aite admittedly 
dominant. Everything then hinges upon the date of 
this manuscript of the North. The handwriting, so 
think the Museum men and Sweet,^ assigns it to the 
beginning of the ninth century or the end of the pre- 
ceding one; and the careful examination of the names 

*See Sweet, Old English Temts, Nos. 1, 4, 5, 7, 17. 
» OJJ.T., p. 151. 

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by Sir E. M. Thompson adequately su£rt»iiis tliis verdict.* 
Now in this document of 800 A. D. or ithereabouts, 
among the one hundred instances of names with the 
stem Cyni (not one with Cyne) the name Cymwulf 
appears no less than twenty-one times.^ We must there- 
fore conclude that the spellings, Cyniumlf and Cynewvlf 
which appears in a Charter of 778 (No. 3), existed side 
by side for a century (since, as we have seen, un- 
stressed e is found in other words even earlier than 700).* 

It is quite unsafe to argue that Oynewulfs reason ^ 
for not employing the t-form in his name-passages was 
because it was obsolete in his day.* Indeed it may have 
been the dominant form in his own writings as in the 

* Catiilogue of Ancient MBS, in the British Museum, Part n 
(Latin), pp. 81 f; Brandl, Paul's Qrundriss* n, 1002. In the 
lAber Vitae cAoee together are QTniiiulf and Aldunlf, who are 
moitioned side by »ide by Simeon of Durham under 778; here 
is Brorda who died in 790; here, too, are Osberct, to whom 
Alcuin wrote in 703, and Torctmund, who le mentioned in Alcuin'e 
letter to Charlemagne in 801. Many of Thompson's identifieations 
are open to question; but he is certainly justified in saying: "The 
eyidence that, at the earliest, it oould not have been written 
until quite the end of the eighth century is sufficiently strong 
both in the list of kings and 'duces' and in the list of abbots." 
The inveetigations of Rudolf Mdller among these names {Pdksstra, 
IX) do not affect Thompson's conclusion, as his " Untersuchungen " 
have no historical significance. 

'Miss Bentinck-Smith {Cambridge History of Eng, Lit, i, 50) 
seems, however, to magnify our evidence unduly in saying: "In 
Northumbria the medial i became e, roughly speaking, about 800; 
in Mercia the transition was pradacally accomplished by 750. 
This fact lends color to the hypothesis of Wtilker that Cynewulf 
was a Mercian." 

'Notice the varying forms of names on Old English coins from 
the same moneters (Keary, English Coins, n, Anglo-Sawon Series, 
London, 1887, Ixxxii-lxzxiii) : Degemond, Dagemond, Daiemond; 
Ansiger, Ansicer, Ansier; Winiger, Winier; ^ItSelred, Milred, 

* Ckmipare Erlemann's refutation of such arguments, Herrig's 
Archiv, cxi, 1903, 63. 

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short Northumbrian poems that survive in their original 
dialect. But, in any case, it is certain that the unstressed 
i does not suit the scheme of the Elene acrostic, and 
would render impossible the charades of the Juliana and 
of Riddle 90. Cynewulf found it diflBcult enough to 
adapt E (eoh^ "horse") to the poetical context, if we 
may judge from his preference for the Cynwvlf form 
of his name in the Christ, the Fates ^ and, may I add, 
the First Riddle. To introduce I (w, "ice") into his 
acrostics would have taxed his ingenuity too far. Cer- 
tainly the form ewu is demanded in the charades, to the 
enforced exclusion of the letter i. In the light of the 
evidence, the only sound inference must be that an eighth- 
century Cynewulf with at least three forms to his hand 
would deliberately select the two that best suited his 
purposes; and any sweeping deductions as to his date 
drawn from the absence of the unstressed i from the name 
passages are unwarranted. In this so-called e^ canon, 
we can find little reason for placing Cynewulf s work 
posterior to the poems in Northumbrian dialect. More- 
over, to claim that Cynewulf lived and wrote after 750, 
because the exigencies of his acrostics compelled him to 
use a form which was certainly current by 740, leads 
us to a conclusion not perhaps false but surely unsus- 
tained by the premises. 

Brown ^ ihas already pointed out that the data presented 
in Sievers' article do not justify the conclusion drawn 
by Cook ^ and StruiJc * that the Cynwulf poems (Fates 
and Christ) follow those with Cynewulf forms (Juliana 
and Elene), and bdong to the close of the eighth or to the 

*0n this point note the eminently sensible remarks of Carleton 
Brown, Englische Studieriy xxxvin, 221-222. 
*L, c. 'Christ, p. Ixx. ^Juliana, p. xv. 

Digitized by 



first decade of the nin/th century. The two cryptograms 
among the Riddles contradict this inference. Not only 
do we meet Cynvoulf in Riddle 1 and Oynewulf in 
Riddle 90 ; but the First Riddle serves as an introduction \ 
to poems that contain certain forms supposedly older than | 
those in the religious compositions of our author.^ 
Sievers himself regards Cynvmlf as " good Anglo-Saxon 
for the eighth century.'^^ But such evidence as Sievers 
furnished leads to the implication — ^which has grown in 
the writings of others into a positive statement of fact — 
that the form Cynumlf is a criterion of dialect Cook ^ 
declares that '' Cyn is at least fifty years later [than 
Cyne'] apparently and except in one word, Cymric, is 
not found in Saxon territory," and Brandl asserts* that 
" Cynvmlf ist spezieU die Anglische und jiingere form." 
"Specifically Anglian?" Sievers has remarked its pres- 
ence in Kent*^ as well «s in Northumbria and Mercia. 
Bishop Stubbe has shown® that the early charter con- 
taining the name Cynvlfus belongs to the year 758 '^ 
and to Cynewulf of Wessex; Cynulf witnesses a Wessex 
grant iby Winchester cathedral during ^Etbelstan's reign ; ® 
and the two forms Cynevlf and Cun/ulf appear on coins 
of iBlfred and ^thelstan.® 

Present opinion, which in the case of Anglo-Saxon 
subjects seldom stops and questions but accepts as fact 
bald assertions, seems content to assign Cynewulf a 

* See infra. * AngUa xm, 13. ■ Christ, p. Ixviii. 
^PauVa Orundri88*, ii, 1041. 

•Note Cyntolf, near Cynetclf, in a Kentish document relating to 
the adjudication of an estate at Dover and Folkstone and Liminge 
in 844 (Birch, Cartularium Sawonioum, No. 445, n, 22). 

* Dictionary of Christian Biography, n, 911. 

' Birch, C.8., No. 327, Kemble, CD., No. 193. 
•Birch, Cj8f, No. 648 (n, 326). 

* Grueber, English Coins, Anglo-Baxon Series, n, 65, 100. 

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Northumbrian home. " The dialect in whidi Oynewulf 
wrote is now universally conceded to be Northumbrian 
or at least Anglian '' is Brown's statement,^ and Jansen, 
in his summary of Cynewulfian research,* regards it as 
indubitable that Cynewulf was a Northumbrian, Now 
let us free ourselves of the weight of authority and 
approach the matter with perfect openness of mind, not 
because such a course will necessarily lead us to new 
conclusions, but because it will dispose effectually of the 
false premises that hamper every student of the Oynewulf 
question. I hope thus to show beyond a doubt that 
evidence has been misused and all logical reasoning per* 
verted by the chief advocate of the claims of the North 
upon these poems that survive only in a West-Saxon 
transmission. The phonological arguments in favor of 
a Northern origin are nowhere arranged more compactly 
than by Trautmami,' who regards " den Satz, * Cyaaewulf 
war ein Nordhumbre,' fiir einen der beet bewiesenen 
die es gibt ; " therefore we can conveniently consider 
in his pages this so-called " best of proof." 

Aided by the dissertations of Leiding* and Bauer,** 

Trautmann cites ^^ten peculiarities of the language of 

the poems that pioint in part to other non-Saxon regions 

K ^y and in their entirety to Northumbria." Wiilfcer* has 

^}>^ naturally demurred at the strange logic of this conclusion ; 

* EngUsche Studien, xxxvin, 222. 

* Bonner Beiir&ge, (BB), xxiv, 123. 

*Kynewulf, Bonner Beitr&ge (BB), i, 71-73. i 

*IHe Sprache der Cynetoulfischen Dichiungen, Chriat, Julkma vnd 

Elene, Gdttingra, 1887. 
^Ueher die Sprache und Mundart der Alienglieohen Dichiungen, 

Andreas, €M6la€, Phoenix, Kreuz und Hellenfahri, Marburg, 1890. 

* Anglia, Bh, ix, 163, note. 

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Binz ^ has daimed Nos. 2-6 as Mercian quite as well as 

Northumbrian, No. 7 as Kentish, No. 8 as West-Saxon; 

aaki Klaeber ^ remarks : — " We have been looking carefully 

through Trautmann's list of the Cynewulfian dialectal /'^ 

peculiarities, but have failed to detect any unmistakable/ \ ^ )p^^ 

signs of non-Mercian locality." In other words, all of | '^ ^ y 

Trautmann's critics admit that the forms that he cites r *^ 

are Anglian and attest a Mercian, if not a Northumbrian 

origin. Now let it be stated emphatically — for the matter 

is important — that there is not the least warrant for 

such conclusions. Among these ten traits cited by Traut- 

mann as Northumbricui peculiarities and admitted by all 

others to be Anglian, there is not one that does not 

frequently appear in Saxon and Kentish documents, not 

one that cannot be explained as a natural vagary of a 

Southern scribe rather than as a survival of a Northern 

author. Let me repeat with aU force a principle of 

criticism that I have set forth elsewhere in different 

language.^ If in a West-Saxon transmission of a text 

forms are encountered that may be paralleled from other 

Wessex liss. — ^particularly those of works of certain 

West-Saxon origin — the burden of proof rests heavily 

upon him who would trace them to distant dialects — so 

heavily indeed that he is almost certainly foredoomed 

to failure. I make no contention that Cynewulf was 

Southern, but I do claim that the peculiarities cited do 

not prove that he was not; indeed I shall now proceed 

to show that they have no probative value at all, as they 

^ Englieche Studien, xxn, 392. 

*J<mrnal of Germamo Philology, iv, 97-103. 

* Riddles of the Exeter Book, p. Iviii. 

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may -well emanate from Saxon and Kentish scribes.* Now 
let us combat these eoHjalled " proofs," which Professor 
Trautmann * challenges any comer to question.' 

(1) "Interchange of ea, ea and eo, eo: feaia. El. 
362 for feola; deogol. And. 621 for deagol." This inter- 
change is frequent in West-Saxon.* Note that feola, 
feala both appear in the WS. Rule of 8t. Benet {PBB. 
iv, 345, vi, 55 ; Logeman's edition, p. xlvii) ; that in the 
Chronicle, feala (A°. 630) is found near feologild {K^. 
830) and that in A°. 871, where all mss. have a common 
WS. source, A and C, read fela^ B and E., feala, D, fela^ 

^ MfirkenB employs {Bonner Beitrdge, u, Bit,) manj of thes^ 
illustrationB to establish the Northern origin of the Ewod/u9 epic, 
with the same flagrant exclusion of strong alternative probabilities. 
MQrkens' argument that all forms which appear rarely in a text 
must have been in the original version lays a large premium 
upon the isolated and sporadic, and glorifies scribal vagaries; 
indeed, if pushed to an extreme, it would assign an Anglian origin 
to nearly all the works of Wessex. 

* Anglia, Bh, xi, 328-329. 

* I shall purposely avoid the citations of examples from prose- 
texts with so-caAled "Anglian coloring" like the ''Life of Guthlac," 
the "Epistle of Alexander,** the Lseceboc and LdcnungOf though 
the evidence that certain works of this class had their origin 
elsewhere than on Saxon ground is hardly convincing. Baibring, 
AngUa, Bh, xi, 100-101, and Boll, BB, xv, 02 f, have shown beyond 
reasonable doubt that the Hofrleian Oloaa 3376 (WW. 102 f.), which 
contains many words and forms usually regarded as Anglian, was 
written not indeed at Winchester, but in Saxon territory, probably 
on the borders of Kent. 

* Deutschbein, PBB, xxvi, 232, is certainly at fault in declaring 
that feola for fela is not known in strong WS., as it is found 
occasionally even in Alfred (BQlbring, § 234; twice in the €ura 
PcLstoraUsy Cosijn, § 19). Sievers, (?r.», 106, note 2, remarks 
that ''a collateral form, feala, beside fela {feola), occurring also 
in prose seems to have formed its vowel on the analogy of f€awa, 
' few.' " 

Digitized by 



feola; and that both forms are frequent in iElfric's 
Lives of the Saints (iii, 21, xvii, 114, xviii, 3, 299 ; xxv, 
4, 628, etc). Much more to our purpose we meet in 
several poems, undoubtedly Southern, feala, Genesis B, 
271, 322, Menologyy 163 and Edgar, B. 18, and feola, 
Metresy 13^® (Sprachschatz, i, 279). I may add that 
feaia is not found in the Exeter Booh, but many times in 
the Vercelli. Oosijn's lists (§97, 98) show many examples 
of degol, deogol, diogol in Alfred (so Sedgefield's 
" Glossary '' in the Boethius 1, 64; 27, 16; 127, 1); 
and Bosworth-Toller, Supplement, pp. 151-152, notes 
other Southern instances.^ This first argument proves 

(2) "g (Goth. €, W. G. d) for WS. *; ongeton^ And. 
634." Ten Brink {Beowulf ^ Untersuchurygen, p. 240), 
Biilbring (§ 315), and even Trautmann's scholar, 
Miirkens (1. c), regard this phenomenon as a Kenticism. 
It appears sporadically in WS. The Ben. Rule (Logeman, 
p. xlv.) and the scribe of MS. Junius. 24 (see Anglia x, 
134) both show this tendency to substitute e for A 
after palatals. Note also forgeton, Deut. 32, 11 and 
hegeton. Chronicle^ A. 897 (Plummer, p. 89). This 
second argument proves nothing.^ 

' See for the origin of the two forms, diegol and deagol, Sievers, 
Or} 128, 3. 

'Leiding, p. 40, § 17, and Bauer, p. 40, | 17, point also to 
^^gon {Jul 687, And. 25), g€fon {Christ 1364), gefrige {And. 
668, 063, 1121); but let us mark the preeenoe of such "Anglian" 
forms as dgifan^ in the WS. Menology (81) and h&ron, toSgon 
in the WS. Maidon (67, 08), if we may trust Heame, and p€gon in 
the Judith (10), which poem, as I riiow elsewhere, is probably WS. 
too, though the form may be a reminiscence of the early poetry. 
And it is surely noteworthy that the form, gesegen, which is 
always hailed as an Anglian surrival in the poems, appears as 

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(3) " The la<i of (breaking before I + oonsoioaiit: did, 
El. 262; galgan, Jul. 310." Of all Trautmann's weak 
argoments this ia the weakeet^ end jet, as I srhall show 
in another plaoe, it is used by other scholars who should 
know better to sustain the theory of an Anglian origin 
of the Judith. Such absence of breaking is extremely 
common in the EWS. prose: a for ea is rather the rule 
than the exception in the Winchester ms. (A) of the 
{Jhronicle up to 891, aid, aldormon, wald, haldan, salde 
(Kupferschmidt, Eng. Stud, xiii, 169 ; Cosijn, § 3, pp. 
8-9) ; it is frequent in early Wessex and Kent Charters, 
denewaides (0. E. T. No. 20, 5), alda (20, 17), gehaldan 
(41, 10), aid (41, 61), halfne (43, 4), etc; it appears 
many times iu the Cura Pastoralis (Cosijn, § 3, pp. 9-11), 
in the Boethius (Sedgefield's "Glossary") and in the 
glosses of MS. Harl. 3376 (Boll, BB. xv, 94 f). It is 
especially frequent in Southern poems: Oenesis B, 246, 
ealwalday 292 allwalda, 665 dlwaldan; 298, 300, 301, 
577, 730, 745, 780, 798, 815, 850, waldend, 436, 820 
aldre, 639, oMor; Metres, 22«* aid, 26^ 29«, aldor, 20"» 
i»«, 201 waldan, 2^^\ ^5^ ^^^ ^ g^®, 11«», cald(e); 
Menology 86, galgan. How can any one, in the light of 

early as 870 or thereabouts in so Southern a document as the 
Codea Aureus Inaoription {O.E.T,y 176), emanating from the very 
duke, jElfred, who is so closely identified with Surr^ by the 
grant of his lands at Hor&ley, Clapham and Chertsey {Charters, 
Ko. 45, 0J3.T., 451). It is true that ^esAtron, gesewen are the 
invariable forms in the Metres^ as in the WS. prose of their 
period; but it is equally true that both gef€gan ("exultant") and 
g€8€genn€y ( " conspicui " ) are found in the Bede Glosses of 900 
{O.E.T., 181), which Sweet and Biilbring (§ 21) assign to 
Kent. Though, in the literary prose, ^igon, s€gon, gefSgon are 
without doubt exclusively Anglian, our examples seem to suggest 
that they were current in the South at an earlier period. 

Digitized by 



the evidence, regard this unbroken a as an indication 
of Northumbrian or even Anglian origin? It is sig- 
nificant that the really Northern lack of breaking before 
r -f- consonant is not found in, the Oynewulfian poems. 
This third argument proves nothing. 

(4) " ce (e) as i- umlaut of the unbroken a: celda, 
Jul. 727 ; eldum. And. 1069 ; wcelmum. And. 462 ; welm. 
And. 495.'^ There is surely nothing distinctively North- 
umbrian or even Anglian in such forms, since they are 
often found in the South. We meet them not only in 
Kentish poems like Cotton Psalm, 65, oeldran, 142, 
celde, and in poems colored by Kentish scribes like the 
Metres, 8»«, 12*^, 13«^ 20^% 29»», eUe, 25*^ welm, 
20**, 23*, 29*^, cEMdm; but in the Saxon patois (c/cfe, 
welm. Boll, BB, xv, 94) and occasionally in the prose of 
both Alfred (see in Oosijn's lists, § 14, pp. 31-32, the 
examples in Orosius and Gura Pctstoralis of gelp, welm, 
bwldo, beldo) and iElfric (Hom. 72, 1, cwelm; 382, 13, 
welm). Note also the West-Saxon Genesis B, 324, 
hea^owelm. That we may have to do merely with scribal 
variations is suggested by the striking circumstance that 
the secKmd hand in the Beowvlf ms. writes eldo, wcelm 
and ccerwcelmy instead of the yldo and ccerwylm of the 
first (cf. Davidson, M. L. N. v, 43-45). The appearance 
of el (eel) forms in Southern writings weakens, though 
it does not, of course, forbid Ten Brink's inference 
(Beowulf, Untersuchungen, p. 241) that the second scribe 
is here more faithful to an Anglian original than the 
fijrst. This fourth argument proves nothing. 

(5) " 6 as t- umlaut of ea and eo before r: erm^m. El. 
768; gerwan. And. 1636; ferMe, And. 1037; for WS. ie 
(y)." What does this proye? The e form belongs to 
the South as well as to the North: it is frequent in the 

Digitized by 



Kentish Olosses (Williams BB, zix^ 113) ; it appears no 
less than twenty-four times in the Saxon patois of ms. 
Harl. 3376 (BoU, BB. xv, 94; Bulbnng, § 179) and, 
though rare in the Orosius and Cura Pastoralis (Coeijn, 
§ 14, pp. 32-34), is common in the Boethius (see Sedge- 
field's " Glossary " for examples of emS, hwerfan, cerran, 
etc).* FerMy ermXa and gegerede, all occur in the Metres 
(9^^, 22*^*, 16®, 26®), which no one regards as Northern. 
This fifth argument proves nothing. 

(6) "e as t- umlaut of ea: her^um. And. 117; ned, 
Jul. 464; hereteman. El. 10.'* The implied argument 
is worthless as this e is everywhere present in the South: 
not only in the Kentish Olosses (Williams, BB. xix, 114) 
and in the so-called " Saxon patois " (Boll, BB, xv, 94 ; 
BiUbring, § 183-184), but frequently in the strong WS. 
of Alfred (Cosijn, § 97, pp. 111-112) and aometimes 
even in jElfric (Lives of Saints, I, 11, gehered; xiii, 
33 geheran; xvi, 11, xxv, 152, 543, 550, gelefa^; xxv, 
387, MS. A, aftymde, C, D, dflenjide, etc.) All the 
forms cited by Trautmann as Northern appear in the 
Metres: nede (4", 6", 9", 25^*); hen»a (12'*) ; heretema 
(1'*). We meet them occasionally in other Southern 
poems: heti^ in Domesdcsg,, 89 ; nede in the Vercelli ms. 
of Body cmd Souly 66, where' the Easier reads nyde; 
and gefleman in Ldr 67. This sixth argument proves 
nothing. * 

' Brand! is therefore unjustified {Orundriae^ n, 1060) in regarding 
as Anglian Mercna for Myrona, Chronicle, A. 655, and gehwerfde, 
A. 601. 

'The danger that lies in conclusions reached without due weighing 
of evidence is strikingly illustrated by Brandl's inference ( OmndrUt^, 
n, 1077-1078) that the Battle of Brunanburh is Anglian, because 
in the Parker if 8. (A) appear fUman, nide, gelpan, giung, gealeht, 
hUkhan, where B.C.D. read flyman, nyde, gylpan, geongy getlyht^ 

Digitized by 



(7) " 6 «w i- umlaut of a (Goth. (U) : stenan. El. 151 ; 
wige, Jul. 487; for WS. ceJ' Leiding (p. 40), Binz 
(Eng. Stud, xxvi, 892) and Klaeber (Joum. Oerm. Phil. 
iv, 102-103) rightly regard this as a Kenticism, and 
point out that the Northern form is ce. It must be added 
that stenan in the Elene passage is more than doubtful 
(Holthausen reads secan), and that -megey and -wege 
alternate in WS. transmissions (cf. O. S. wdgi, wegi). 
This seventh argument proves nothing. 

(8) "The so-called palatal umlaut: geseh. El. 842; 
fexy And. 1429 ; for WS. ea." Napier {Anglia, x, 136) 
notes that the appearance of many such forms in the 
Life of Chad has no significance, as these are frequent 
in later WS. (see PBB, ix, 211) ; and Miirkens, though 
of the Bonn school, admits that this e for ea in the Exodus 
is a peculiarity of the WS. scribe. It is useless to 
multiply examples of so well-known a phenomenon (see 
Sievers, § 108, 2, a. b; Bulbring, § 313). This eighth 
argument proves nothing.* 

(9) " The non-working of the i- umlaut with ea, ea, 
and eo, eo: o^eawed, [Phoen. 322] ; streonan. And. 331.^' 
The Metres offer examples of d^ewed and o'^eowde (29®*, 
28^*), the Kentish Glosses furmsh ewan and eawan 

hUKKan, As all these supposed ''Anglian" forms are freelj found 
in Kentish and Saxon works (for fUman, nSde, gelpan, see sitpra; 
for giung compare Metres 26",'*; and for gealeht, hlehhan, note 
Btilbring, § 179, Gosijn, § 14, p. 31), it is obvious that these are 
mere scribal variations from a West-Saxon norm. Other passages 
of the Brunanburh (notably 11. 12-13) show i^t the A. text 
of this poem is farther from the original than the versions of 

^Ignorance of the workings of "palatal umlaut" in Anglo-Saxon 
has led to unwarranted inferences in regard to the origin of the 


Digitized by 



(see Sievers Gr.' § 408, note 10), and Coeijn's lists 
(§ 100), beside many instances of eowany one geeawde 
(C. P. 194"). It is interesting to note that in the 
Southern poem, Body and Soul, 75, the Exeter ics. 
reads eawdesl and the Veroelli, eowdest. A similar 
exchange of asteawde, and ceteowde is fcmnd in the 
LWS. MS. (D) of the Martyrology (Herzfeld, p. xiii) — an 
exchange, which, in my opinion, owes nothing to Mercian 
influence, from traces of which this particular ms. is 
remarkably free. Alfred has unumlauted iu as io^ eo 
in stioran, ge^eodan, treow'(S near stieran, ge'^Hedan 
triew^; and the Saxon patois presents gestreonan 
(Biilbring, § 189). This ninth argument proves nothing. 

(10) " The lapse of n in the inflection: gemnna, Jul. 
565." Trautmann later reverts to this absence of n as 
a distinctly Northumbrian phenomenon (Anglia, Bb. xi, 
325-326) under the signally false impression (due doubt- 
less to a trick of the memory) that the Juliana form 
is an infinitive, instead of an accusative. This mistaken 
argument, strangely enough, seems to have impressed 
Binz; but Klaeber has completely demolished the con- 
tention by pointing to Sweet's numerous illustrations 
of the dropping of n in the Hatton ms. of the Cura 
Pastoralis (" Introduction," pp. xxxii f.). This tenth 
argument, like all the others, proves absolutely nothing. 

In the light of our searching examination, Trautmann's 
ten arguments for a Northumbrian origin of the Cyne- 
wulfian poems are seen to rest upon a persistent exclusion 
of the alternative possibilities that immediately suggest 
themselves to everyone with any knowledge of the ele- 
mentary laws of Old English phonology. They may most 
effectively be reduced to an absurdity by deducing from 
them a Northern origin for the Metres — ^poems easily 

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traceable by the Bonn school ^ to die greatest of West 
Saxonsy Alfred himself. Trautmann further weakens 
his case, if that be possible, by the contention that " the 
rone eoh proves Northumbrian origin, inasmuch as it 
serves to indicate the e in the name Cynewulf and hence 
must have been pronounced eh by the poet" To this 
there is a twofold answer: first that a survey of the 
various runic alphabets* reveals in numerous futhorks, 
both South English and Continental, the presence of 
eoh (eh) as the name of the E rune; and secondly that 
symbol and thing represent this letter in the West-Saxon 
runic poem.^ Upon another contention Trautmann and 
his school * lay repeated stress. To him, " the form ewu in 
the Juliana runic passage for W3. eowan is both in stem 
and ending genuine Northumbrian." This confident 
assertion has been challenged by Binz,^ who points out 
that ^' the word is strong in WS. passages and the length 
of e is by no means fixed " and by Klaeber,* who cites 
" the forms ewo, Ine's Laws, 65 (ms. E) ; ewa (ace 
pi.), 0. E. Martyrol (Herzfeld), 36, 17; ewede, ib. 170, 
26." ^ Not only do these examples run directly counter 
to the Bonn claims, but the very section in Sievers' 
Orammar (§ 396) cited by Trautmann to sustain the 
Northern origin of the stem, show that e for eo in 
pret of ver'bs in w (oncnewon, blewan) appears in the 
Cura Pastoralis, the Orosius and the Merctwn Psalter. 

* See Kramer, BB, vm, 37. 

* Stephens, Runic Monuments, pp. 09-160, S29-832. 

*Eh is (Mmetioned in West-Saxon transmissions (cf. Rid, 23^). 

* See Jansen, BB, xxiv, 123. 
*Engli8che Studien, xxvi, 392. 

* Jour, Germ, Philology, iv, 102-103. 

* See Bosworth-Toller, pp. 267, 261. i 

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Biilbring also furnishes (§ 257) WS. examples of short 
steins without w umlaut, strewede, clewed, etc. Even 
if we admit that the substitution of the ending -u for 
-an is possible only in Northumbria and Northern Mercia 
(it is common in Rushworth ^) y there seems to be no 
sufficient reason for predicating such a phenomenon here. 
Not only are we prevented by the many strong forms of 
our word from putting it in the same category as eottu, 
foldu, galgu; but we must note that in Cynewulf 's charade, 
Riddle 90, ewu is the equivalent of " agnus," and there- 
fore singular. So also, I am inclined to think, is ewu 
in our Juliana passage. How then shall we explain the 
plurals, dele and &idaC? To a student of runic usage 
these give no trouble. Runic letters, when grouped for 
spelling purposes, may carry a plural signification as 
in Rid. 25, where the several nmes of Higora are 
regarded as units ; or else they may be viewed collectively 
as constituting a single idea (Rid. 20, 75; Husband's 
Message). The latter method is the one employed by 
Cynewulf here. In the case of the runes, C, Y and Ny 
there is no possibility of confusion of method, as they 
are placed after their verb, nor yet in the case of the 
aprpositives, L, F, which are runic symbols, not letters. 
Very different, indeed, is the passage, f^orme synnum 
fdh I E W ond U acle btdaS, etc Here fdh seems to 
suggest that Cynewulf was at first dominated by the 
singular number of the word, ewu; but that later the 
plurality of the runes proved too strong either for the 
poet or for his transcriber and produced the forms, dele 
and bida^.^ Cynewulf thus describes the sin-stained soul 

^The pronoun him in the next line {Juliana, 707) may well 
refer either to the plural runee or to the singular e%ou, which is 
common gender (cf. Rid. 00', ewu^agnua). 

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trembling before the judgment seat^ Trautmann's con- 
clusion of a Northumbrian origin rests in this case upon 
the uneetablished premise tha4; ewu is plural, and hence 
is unsound. Now that the discussion has been freed 
of a dozen illegitimate inferences, let us turn to arguments 
of some weight and worth. 

The evidence for an Anglian home of our poet — as 
opposed to a distinctively Northumbrian one — ^is of 
quite another sort and deserves much more careful 
attention. Sievers olaims ^ that ^^ all poems which use 
exclusively the longer forms (in the 2d. and 3d. per. 
sing. ind. of long syllable verbs of the strong and of 
the first weak conj. and in the past ptc. of weak verbs 
of the first class ending in dentals) are of Anglian origin, 
and conversely the presence of one-eyllable forms points 
with certainty to origin in the South (Saxon or Kentish)." 

This canon has been universaQy accepted and em* 
ployed as a dialect test by scholars, and, at first sight, 
seems to have all things in its favor. Indeed the second 
part of Sievers' conclusion invites no protest, for the 
presence of syncopated forms is certainly strong evidence 
of Southern origin, as these are practically unknown to 
the Anglian dialects.' But the first part of this contention 

* See Grein, 8praoh$chaU, i, 266-267 for referenoee to many 
similar passages. The lines in Ohriat and Baton (lOOf), ie 
m69te * * gehidan/huKtt m€ drikten god diman vnUe, strongly 
oppose Trautmann's charge of dSman to d^ma in Juliana, 707, 
kw€Bt him arfter dSdvm deman wille, 

*PBB, X, 464-6. 

* Yet even here we must moye with caution. The very line that 
Sievers employs {PBB, x, 474) to attest a Southern origin for 
Hymn n (6r.-W., Bibl u, 212), otui (d) hi8 willan vt>yrd6 (11. 6a, 
11a) is found ond )kM %ioiUa/n wyrdt in the Salomon and Saturn 
(I. 500) which elsewhere admits only unsynoopated forms and 

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— that the exclusive use of the longer forms atte^ 
an Anglian source — ^fails to take account of the great 
difference in time between the Oynewulfian poems and 
the Wessex productions of the later ninth and tenth 
centuries with which he contrasts them. Such evidence 
as we have speaks very strongly in favor of the view that 
the longer forms which in Alfredian and in LWS. texts 
appear by the side of the shorter were dominant in 
Southern writings of the earliest period.^ 

Olosses, Charters and Laws all tell the same etory. 
The eight century Glasses can haardly be called inib 
court as final witnesses upon this question until tiieir 
home is more definitely established tiian at present But 
Chadwick, whose discussion of origin* leads him to a 
positive conclusion^ holds that tiie archtype of the Glosses 
is East Saxon; that Epinal lies near to the Wessex 
border; that Erfurt is pure Kentish; and that Corpus 
is Mercian. Dieter* insists upon the Kentish peculiarities 
of Epinal. In the third edition of his Oranwriar, Sievers 
regards the Glossaries as ^^ Kentish with at least an 
admixfture of Mercian forms;" and Biabring (§ 19 )• 
speaks of them as ^^ South Mercian wvQi a Kentish and 

which contains such supposedly AngUan words as 9€na, Mo, 
pwoele, Btrynd. On the other hand there is no warrant for denying 
a Southern origin to poems full of verbal syncope 'like the M&nolofftf 
and the Maldon, as do Imelmann and Grow in their respective 

^This objection to this dialect test occurred to Toa Brink, 
{Beaumlfy p. 213), and to Trautmann {Kynewulf, p. 
but, because it opposed the latter's argument^ he rele 
a footnote without pressing it to a conclusion inevitably fatal 
to Siegers' reasoning. 

* Cambridge PMlological Booiety, 1899, pp. 260-253. 

^Anglia, EC, 620. 

Digitized by 



West-Saxoa admixture." Brandl ^ deems them ^^ partly 
Kentifdi, partly Kentkh-Merciaii.'' ^ Now it is extremely 
significant that in these Glosses of etrongly Southern 
complexion appear doeens of examples of tiie longer 
forms of the 2d and 3d sing. pres. ind. and of the past 
ptc and not a single instance of syncope.^ Early Southern 
Charters furnish similar evidence. We meet in the 
Kentish Charters of 805 (0. E. Texts, No. 34, 1. 17), 
hafai; of 805-831 (No. 37, 1. 10) doe«, (No. 37, U. 
16, 21) limped, of 835 (No. 41, 1. 39) s^m, (No. 41, 
1. 58) hafa% (No. .41, 1. 64) heheade^ (No. 41, 1. 69) 
forgife^j in the Wessex Charter of 847 (Nkx. 20, 1. 13) 
hdte^, (1. 17) ulsciote^. It is not until 858 that we 
meet limp^ in Kent (No. 28, 1. 25) and not until 871- 
889 (No. 45, 1. 46) geW beside (11. 46-47) foreyme^ 
and iveof^e^ in Surrey. In the late Textus Boffensis 
(Rochester mb.) of the Old Kentish Laws of ^Ethel- 
berht (d. 616), in which all authorities note "many 
survivals of very ancient forms pointing ba(^ to a 
prototype at least as early as the middle of the eighth 
oentury,'' * we meet more than forty unsyncopated (and 
very few syncopated) forms of the verb. The longer 
forms may reasonably be credited to the older version, 
which perhaps an1»dates the oiriginalls of our poems. 
What reason have we therefore to impute to very early 

^OrundriBt^f n, 1064. 

'If the doctors thus disagree in their diagnosis of originiU texts, 
how dare they speak with positiveness of the embryos of forms 
in the very late transmissions of poems of this same period? 

'Dieter, Sprache und Mundart der dU, Engl, Dmhmdler, ff 
48, 50, cited by Ten Brink and Trautmann. 

*So Brandl, Ornndriaa,* n, 1051. See Sievers, PBB, zn, 174 
and G^memann, Zur Bpraehe dea Tewtua RoffeneU, Berlin, 1901. 

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poetry that employe exclusively the longer verbal forms 
an Anglian origin? 

Much stress has been laid upon the evidence of end- 
rimes in two Cynewulfian passages. The tvansmiH^ted 
West-Saxon forms in the Christ, 591 f. are h%en(>u, 
waerya; leoht^ niM; and in the Elene, 1237 f. are riht, 
ge^eaht, miht, ^eaht; dmcst, begeat. "Substitute for 
these the Anglian forms," we are told by Sievers,^ " imd we 
have- pure rimes: her^, mer^u; Uht, neht; reht, ge^ceht, 
masht, ^ceht; amcet, begcet/' ^ The argument is a strong 
one, much the strongest that we have thus far considered, 
since the theory of an Anglian origin adequately accounts 
for the desired sounds; still "the devil's advocate" who 
is "proving all things" is bound to register a double 
objection. That the Old English poets were often no 
sticklers for exact rimes is proved by many such com- 
binations as deafly &i6 (Christ, 596) ; heah, fdh (Seafarer 
98) ; glenge^y bringe^ (Ldr^ 13) ; hleorum, tearum 
(Domesdceg 128) ; ^ng, leng (Judith^ 153). And more- 
over, the substitution of possible Southern forms pro- 
duces excellent rimes in nearly every case. 

As I have already proved in considering Trautmann's 
sixth argument for Northumbria, hen^ is very common 
in the South, even in strong WS. ;' reht is found in early 
charters of Kent and Surrey,* and as a Kenticism in the 
Cotton MS. of Boethius (p. 135, 1. 40) ; msht appears 

»PBB, IX, 236. 

'Holthausen even goes to the length of introducing these forms 
into his text of the Elene passage. 

^henfie and KSnfie appear as Tariants in the Boeihius, (Sedgefield's 
edition, p. 24, 5) and hSmfivm in the Cotton Pdobn (82). See 
examples cited supra, 

•0. E. T. No. 34, 1. 16; No. 45, M. 17, 42, 50. 

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in the Metres (4'','*), in the Kentish Glosses, and 
occasionally in the Cura Pastoraiis; ^ and the working 
of the scK^alled palatal-umlaut in early Kentish and in 
the Orosiu^ ^ mi^t perhaps be cited to explain ge^eht 
and ^eht, athough mid ge^eahte meets us in a Kentidi 
eharter of 832 ^ and althoug}! the phen<Hnenon is late 
for our texts. The form begcet demanded by the rime 
is known to early Kentish charters.^ But all this is 
special pleading, and only slightly lessens the weight of 
probability in favor of Sievers' view, particularly ais 
liht, which we should expect in the South and which 
would furnish a perfect rime for wihtj does not occur on 
Southern ground, where the form is invariably leoht 
(lioht).'^ The rimes certainly seem to point to an Anglian 
original of our po&ms, but in no way to a distinctively 
Northumbrian home. 

The evidence of rimes is supplemented and strengthened 
by the testimony of vocabulary, although the force of 
arguments derived from the presence or absence of words 
has been greatly exaggerated. Students have fallen into 
the mistake of overlooking the large interval of time 
between our poetical texts and West-Saxon prose, and 
consequently, of claiming as Anglian many words that 
were once common to all the Old English dialects. For 

» See Sweet, C. P. 'Introduction," p. xxii. He remarks: "The 
late miht hardly eyer oocutb in the Pastoral, but the form niht 
is well-establiehed." 

* See Chadwick, pp. 182-1S4; BOIbing, f 313. 

■ VJS.T^ No. 40, 1. 2. 

«0. E. T, No. 41, 1. 4, No. 42, 1. 2. 

*See Brown, Die 8prache der Ruahtvorth Olosaen, pp. 24, 34, 78; 
Baibring, Anglia, Bh DC, 71; x, 2-3, 6-7. Bttlbring argues con- 
vincingly against his own earlier view that Uht had come into 
the Anglian dialects from the WS. 


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instanoe, the preposition in (for an) in the poetical texts 
is often hailed as an indicatiim of Anglian dialect, 
whereas in was, of course, once exist^it in WS, as well,* 
The older form in all dialects, in surviyes in so Southern 
a poem as the Menology as a legacy from the earlier 
poetry to the later. The forms, nemne and nym^e (for 
WS. buton) are rightly cited as distinctively Anglian 
forms in the prose period ^ but are we safe in inferring 
such limitation in die eighth century, when we meet 
nymne in a Kentish charter of 805,' and three times 
in so Southern a document as the grant of iEthelberht 
to the church of Sheribome in Dorset in 864 ? * A strong 
argument lies in the appearance m the poetry of gen (for 
WS. giety) which seems to be pure Anglian ;^ but here 
again can we speak with confidence of very early usage ? 
I attach little importance to the evidence of such words 
as semninga, leoran, gromr, rec, of which examples are 
not lacking in either WS. prose or verse. Indeed the 
poetical vocabulary often recognizes no such dialectal 
limitations; for instance, the undoubtedly WeertrSaxoa 
Genesis B. employs such " Anglian " words as begromian 
(243), recas (325) and, more striking still gien (413). 
Two other supposed criteria of the Anglian origin of 

^Thifl is attested 1^ many instanoes in the early Chromele 
(see Brandl, Orundrias,* u, 1060) and by isolated examples in 
Alfred's works (see Jordan, EigentMmUohkeiten dee anglitohen 
Wortschaizes, p. 17). The history of the two forms, in and <m 
is traced by Miller, "Introduction" to Bede's Eool, Hiat., p. xx?i, 
and by Deutschbein, PBB, xxvi, 172. 

*See Mather, MJb.y., iz, 164; Jordan, Id., pp. 46-48. 

• OJB,T. No. 34. 

• Birch, 0.8. , No. 510. I find in this charter no forms that are 
not either WS. or Kentish. 

• See Hart, MJj.N., vn, 122, Deutschbein, PBB, xxn, 173. 

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Cjneym\{, wloh and lyteme^ are foond in the early 
eighth century in the Epinal Gloss, a work of strong 
Southern coloring. Are we justified in laying much 
emphasis on this kind of testimony ? 

Nine-tenths of the arguments presented in favor of an 
Anglian home for our poet are thus seen to be accidental 
encumbrances, and may well be dismissed from all future 
discussions of the subject. A rime here, a form there, 
inclines the balance of probabilities away from the South; 
but nothing in the language speaks for a distinctively 
Northumbrian source. 

The literary grounds for associating Oynewulf with 
the North seem far stronger than the linguistic evidence. 
The tradition of a school of vernacular poetry in North- 
umbria is supported by the striking circumstance that all 
of our earliest versions of Old English poems are in 
that dialect Nor is it without significance that the 
Dream, of the Rood, certainly Northumbrian, as the 
Ruthwell Croes shows, has Cynewulfian traits ; and that the 
Riddles, doubly bound to Cynewulf, have Northumbrian 
associations, which I shall presently consider. But we 
must not fail to recall certain literary conditions that 
are frequently overlooked in this connection. The social 
and literary relations of the different divisions of eighth 
and ninth-century England are far closer than is commonly 
supposed. The lAher Vitae contains the names of m^any 
Mercian benefactors of the Northumbriian church ; ^ in 
the Charters Mercian kings grant lands in Kent to 
Kentish monasteries.' The West-Saxon Aldhelm writes 

' See Jordan, Id,, 12, 67, 62. 

»Cf. E. M. Thompron, Oat, of Anoimt M88, {Latin), n, 81; 
Brand], QrundrUs? n, 1002. 
• Sweet, 0,E,T.y p. 422. 

Digitized by 



his treatise on Terse-making for a king of Northumbrian 
Aldfrith (Acircius) ; Bede and Boniface have intimate 
correspondents in both the North and South; and the 
literary connections of Alfred seem to have been largely 
Mercian. The enigmas of Aldhelm find speedily a 
translator in the North; * and the enigmas of Tatwine^ 
Archbishop of Canterbury, are immediately supplemented 
by Hwsetberbt (Eusebius) the Northumbrian abbot The 
poem Onihlac A — ^which was probtfbly written by a 
Mercian, who knew Crowland well — and lie proee Life 
of OtUhlac are both known to the autiior of (hdhlac fi, 
who, from his lack of first-hand knowledge of tradition, 
may have written anywhere. The manner in which Bede 
gathered materials for his great history makes it plain 
that " there was a literary intercommunion over the whole 
of England, and this was due to the corporate brother* 
hood of monasteries." * Everywhere manuscripts were 
freely interchanged. With such ready give-and-take of 
books it is very unwise to assume that likeness in style 
between two literary productions argues likeness of 
locality, and that there can be no worthy poetical output 
without the inspiration of some neighboring school of 
literature. To argue with Wiilker* that "Cynewulf 
could not have written in Northumbria, because that 
kingdom offered unfavorable conditions for the production 
of poetry ; " or with Brown * that " political conditions in 
Mercia were not auspicious for the cultivation of 
literature " is to ignore entirely the barter of manuscripts. 
It no more follows that Cynewulf was a Northumbrian, 

^ See Riddles of Eweter Book, Nos. 36, 41. 

' See Brooke, History of Early English Literature, p. 230. 

• Anglia, xvn, 106-107. 

* Englische 8tudien, xxxvm, 223. 

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because he was well versed in certain poetic conventions 
and traditions that we meet in Northumbrian poems 
or that the author of the Andreas (very probably Cyne- 
wirif ) was a near neighbor of the autiior of the Beowulf, 
from whom he lifted so freely, than that the different 
redactors of the Anglo-Saxon Annals were, all of them, 
near neighbors. It is needless to press the point further. 
New evidence, or rather olJ evidence revived, is pre- 
sented by Cynewulf's relation to the Riddles. Early 
scholars of Leo's and Dietrich's following, who read the 
name of our poet in the First RidMe and hence ascribed 
to him all these enigmas, found in the Northumbrian 
version of Riddle 36 {Leiden Riddle) final proof of his 
Northern home. Like these scholars, who were fortunate 
in escaping much of the confusion of the present, I 
believe that Riddle 1 is a " Cynwulf " cryptogram ; ^ 
like them I believe that it is a prelude to enigmas from 
this poet's hand; but unlike them, I do not think that 
the literal translations of Aldbelm {Rid. 36, 41) are 
coined in the same mint as the other problems.^ It is 
quite out of the question that the servilely imitative and 
sometimes inaccurate rendering of Aldhelm's Creatura 
{Rid. 41) should have emanated from a poet of Cyne- 
wulf's generous culture and sound ^Latinity. Among 
the Anglian usages that have been noted elsewhere in the 
Riddles ^ there are really none that I can now pronounce 
with confidence " distinctively Northumbrian." * As in 

*See my article, "Cynewulfian Runes of the First Riddle," 
M, L. y., Dec., 1910. 

' In the " Introduction " to my edition of the Riddles, pp. Ixxvii- 
Izxix, I have indicated many points of difference between Rid. 36 
and 41, and the other poems of the collection. 

* See my " Introduction," p. Izxix, note. 

*It is true that geonge (22*) which also appears, And. 1311 

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80 many Middle En^^ish poems, certain peculiarities of 
vocabalaiy may be explained by the poet's familiarky with 
the speech of other regions than liis own «nd by his con- 
stant concession to the requirements of his verse. I must 
insist thait the language of Old English poetry was not only 
mixed, but traditional. The student of phonology is ever 
prone <U> forget that this poetical medium differed widely 
not only from any spoken dialect, but even from the lite- 
rary prose of any quarter of England. Moreover, in the 
case of the Riddles, we can never be sure that any particu- 
lar enigma containing this or that form ^ is by the chief 
author of the collection, though, as I have etriven to 
prove in my "Introduction,"* the Biddies are, in the 
main, homogeneous. So, though certain foikns attiecM; 
an Anglian origin, these poems lend, linguistically, no 
large support to the hypothesis of a distinctively North- 
umbrian home for Cynewulf.* 

igeongan), and ehtuwe are found in tenth-century prose only in 
Northumbrian Gospels; but we haye too Uttle evidence for our 
earUer period to limit safely these forms to one dialect. The so- 
called Northern ^S^ (44>«) and fiah (72") are known to Buth}Dorlh\ 
which Brown and Bulbring class as Mercian, and hug (5^) is 
common in the Charters and early Glosses {OJI.T., p. 616). 

^Certain Southern forms have the support of runes (see p. 

"Pp. Ixi-lxxY. 

' Little importance can be attached to the argument of Im^- 
mann {Die Altenglische Odoaker-Dichtung, 1907, pp. 14, 17) that 
the gedSdon demanded by the metre (MS. gedydon) in the name- 
poem, Rid, l^ is exclusively Northumbrian (see also Sievers, 
PBB. Xy 498), since we meet the form, d€don both in the West- 
Saxon Cura PMtoraUs (where Sievers' Cframmar*, 429, note 1, 
explains it as a Kenticism) and in the Mercian Mariyrology. 'The 
form, dadon is so common in the older poetry {Oenesis A and 
Paris Psalter) that it seems better to regard its appearance in 
the late Oenesis B 722, /fast hie t5 mete dSdan, as a survival 
than as an Old Saxon form. Sweet is doubtless right ("Introduc- 

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One literary argument remains — the argument of 
Stopford Brooke ^ that the atmosphere of Cynewulf s 
poems is I^orthem, that hie pictures of icy eeas and storm- 
beaten cliffs can belong v>nly to NortSiumbria. ThSti 
contention rests largely upon the belief that our poet 
was the aulior of the " Storm " Biddies and of the 
Andreas. This belief I share, for <the cryptogram in 
Riddle 1 argues strongly for his authorship of the first, 
and the dose likeness of thought and phrase between the 
sea-passages in these compositions ^ pleads for his author- 
ship of the second. This argument from ^' atmosphere " 
seems to me far more potent than the evidence of sundry 
linguistic forms current in every dialect. It is significant 
that the Southern author of the Metres writing of the sea, 
merely reproduces the phrases of the older poetry.' 
Cynewulf is evidently well acquainted with Northern 
waters and with the rigors of a Northern climate ; ^ but 
the inference that he must therefore have been a North- 
umbrian is not convincing, as the poet may have readily 
learned to know these aspects of nature, while wandering 
far from his home.^ The Beowulf, which many r^ard 
as Mercian, displays the same acquainrtance with stormy 

tk>n" to Ci^ra PaatoraUB, p. xxvn) in regarding dedon as the 
oldest form of the word in all English dialects (cf. O.S. d(^im, 
O.H.6., tatun), 

^ Early Engliah Literature, p. 372. 

*See the yarious parallels indicated in my ''Notes" to Riddlee 
3, 4. 

*Metre$ 27* Ucalde aS (cf. Seafarer^ 14, IscecUdne «5); 6* hto 
i>n 8ta!6u heat^ (see my note to Rid, 3*, 8tr€amaa etapu heataHi), 

*It is interesting to mark in this connection the "Northern 
coloring" of the fourteenth-century alliterative poems of the West 
Midland district (see Osgood, Pearl, 1906, p. xx). 

' Note my discussion {supra) of CSynewulf's knowledge of "islands 
in the fens." Does it foUow that he lived in East Anglia? 

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and wintry seas. Yet Broake'e argument, unlike many 
that we have considered, is a Intimate one and deserves 
more consideration than it has received.^ 

I have already intimated^ that "belief in the poefs 
wide range of literary activity and of linguistic and 
metrical expression and a consequent reconstruction of 
the Cynewulf canon are the inevitable condusions result- 
ing from an acceptance of my interpretation of the 
* Cynwulf ' name-poem." What then is this canon ? 
Based, as Trautmann daims,' upon the usage in the 
signed religious poems of Cynewulf, it offers three tests 
of authorship. Any genuine work by this poet must 
satisfy the following conditions : — it must reveal a regular 
use of the short stem-syllable in the A-less forms of feorh 
and mearh; it must limit itself to the dissyllabic use of 
long-stemmed words in el, 61, er, or, en, um; it must not 
permit the expansion of contracted forms. The rigid 
application of these tests forces us to some surprising 
results. Gauged by the first, the Juliana is un-Cyne- 
wulfian, as the only two determinate examples of 
feore(s) are both long (191^ SOS**)."* Gauged by 
the second, the Elene stands quite apart from Juliana 
and Christ II in offering at least six instances of mono- 
syllabic use.* Yet in the main these tests are fairly 

^ Ck>ntemptuoii8 diaregard of 'Miteraiy argamentB" often reacts 
violently upon champions of a dozen linguistic inconsistencies. 
On purely aesthetic grounds Brooke and Walker maintained against 
the whole philological camp the GynewuMan authorship of many 
of the Riddles, both groups of which are now seen to bear the 
poet's endorsement. 

• if. L. y., XXV, 241. 
•BB, I, 27-29, 120-122. 

* Trautmann, of course, alters these verses to fit his canon. 
'Richter, Chronologiaohe Studien smr AngeMchsiach^n lAterotwr, 

Halle, 1910, pp. 41-42. 

Digitized by 



met not only hj the signed poems, but by Andreas, 
Phoenix and Outhlac B. Kow the Riddles conform to 
none of the criteria: they consistently prefer tiie long 
stem-syllable of feore(s) ; they admit many monosyllables 
like tdeny tocepn, although they prefer dissyllables (10: 
22) ; and finally offer no less than 26 examples 
of expansion. Either iiien we mnst abandon the 
Riddles or admit that the tests are inadequate. To 
the second alternative we are driven by Cynewulfs 
double signature to these problems (Rid. 1, 90). If 
we recognize the signatures, we have no other choice than 
franMy to concede tiiat, at some period of his literary 
work, Cynewulf employed certain linguistic aud metrical 
usages not current in his religious poems. That this 
period was his younger time seems to be attested by the 
greater autiquity of the Riddles forms; but I shall not 
press this point now. In every case, the acceptance of 
even the finer riddles (for instance, those of the Storm) 
as Cynewulf ian shatters the old thumb-rule tests; and, 
by eo doing, it gives us a better perspective, a broader out- 
look. As we have seen, the peculiar power of the sea- 
passages in Rid. 3-4 constitutes a forceful argument for 
like authorship of the very similar verses in the Andreas; 
and the freshness of spirit displayed in the enigmas 
removes a current objection to the inclusion of the 
Phoenix among the works of our poet, on the score of 
its brightness and sunshine and joy of life.* It is indeed 
the irony of philological history that, after refusing to 
Cynewulf compositions that satisfy all the tests of the 
canon, we should now be compelled, on the strong 
testimonial evidence of Cynewulf himself, to yield to 

* Fulton, jr. L. N., XI, 162, Schlotterow, BB. xxv, 92. 

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him poems (like the Biddies) y that run directly counter 
to every criterion. 

Other teete and touchstones of authorship have been 
freely suggested — tests that we need not hesitate to reject 
with emphasis, whatever be our ulitimate conclusions. 
And let me say once more that, in this article, 
I am not protesting againsrt; conclusions, but against 
the mel/hods by which these are attained. It is argued 
by Fulton that the Phoenix is not by Cynewulf , because 
" he does not permit himself quite so radical a var- 
iation as to use fotas (Ph. 311) for fet (Jul. 472, 
El. 1066)." What then shall we say to the use of 
both fotas and fet in the Metrical Psalter; ^ and to 
the appearance of fote and fet (dat) in two riddles 
certainly from the same hand ? ^ It is argued by Traut- 
mann,' in all seriousness, that the Phoenix is not by 
Cynewulf, because we meet in 100 lines (182-282) a 
far more frequent use of ^onne than in the signed 
poems, no less than twenty examples. Why not contend 
that the Juliana is not by Cynewulf, because in that short 
poem we encounter fifty-four examples of the adverbial 
f^d; or that the last 100 lines of Gascoigne's Steel Olas 
are an interpolation because " when " occurs forty times 
there, and comparatively seldom elsewhere in the author's 
works? It is again contended by Trautmann,* that 
Christ III cannot come from Cynewulf, because while 
we meet in the Juliana no sechstakter, in the Ascension, 
(Christ II) two, in the Andreas fifteen, in the Elene 

* See Grein, Sprachschatz. i, 335. 

* See Rid. 33«, on dnum fSt; Rid. 32" on f6te; 32* f€t (nom.) 
and folme. 

*BB., I, 118. 

« Anglia, xvra, 387 ; see Schmitz, Id., xxxm, 216. 

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thirty, we find no* less than fifty in Christ IIL^ K 
there is any value in such reasoning, we are driven to the 
conclusion that Elene with thirty such verses and Juliana 
with none are by different hands. But such arguments 
are all alike worthless.* Scholarship is eomething more 
than futile juggling with forms. 

Attempts to assign Cynewulf a definite date are so 
closely bound up with the theory of a Northumbrian 
home that it is hard to consider these apart. " He ceased 
to write certainly 'before the destruction of Lindisfame 
by the Danes in 793, else he would have mentioned this.^' • 
This is hardly a safe conclusion, even if we grant for 
the moment the unestablished premise of NofPthem 
origin, inasmuch as the Northumbrian ^Ethelwulf, who 
dedicates his Latin hexameters concerning the abbots of 
his monastery in this very diocese of Lindisfame * to 
Ecgbert, Bishop of that see (803-821), writes only a few 
years after the coming of the Danes and says not a 
word of that calamity. Here are two obvious gaps in 
the logic. And I think that those who have hitherto 
endeavored to date Cynewulf by means of the Outhlac 
have failed even more signally. Even if we accept his 
authorship of Outhlac B (and there is always some very 

* Christ in, which Cook ascribes to Qynewulf, is assigned by Traut- 
mann {BB. i, 122) and Richter {Chronologiache Btudien, p. 94) to 
an earlier period, and by Brandl (Qrundriaa*, u, 1049) to a de- 
cidedly later time. Binz {Anglia, Bh, xzn, 80, March, 1911) puts 
it close to Oenesis B, The uncertainties of Old English literary 
history suggest " the wavering vistas of* a dream." 

*Trautmann confidently informs us {BB.^ i, 116-117) that all 
un-Cynewulfian verses in the Andreas are obviously false trans- 
missions; and then takes up the pruning-knife. So the work goes 

■ See Brooke, E. E, Lit., p. 375. 

•Dtimmler, Poetae Latini Aevi Carolini, I, 582-604. 

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debatable premise to be accepted) , how can we argue 
with Sarrazin * that this poem was oeartainly written 
within twenty or thirty yeare of OviKlac A (about 750 1) i 
The sequel is admittedly so different in style that all 
boholars assign it to another poet and it may have been 
written any time within a himdred years of its predecessor. 
Any connection between Alcuin and Cynewulf has been 
afbundantly disproved. Then the forms of his namie 
acrostics, Cynwvlf and Cynewvlf do not help us at all 
as a termin/us ad quern — ^very little indeed as a terminus 
a quo (supra). On what grounds tten has Cynewulf 
been generally assigned to the last half of the eighth 
century ? 

At the head of the story stand the same three inadequate 
tests that have done yeoman^service in the question of 
authorship. Genesis A and the Beowulf ^ are regarded as 
older than the Cynewulfian poems (which in the light of 
the large liftings of the Andreas from the Beowulf no one 
will deny), because they offer many instances of long- 
stemmed meares, feoreSy of monosyllabic wundr, idcn, 
etc., and of expanded forms of contractions. Here again, 
the mechanical application of these tests to the chrono- 
logical sequence of Old English poems leads to many 
contradictions. Now and then a production flatly rebels 
against the rules, and has to be coaxed or whipped into 
the traces. The Psalter, which many regard as late, 
offers at least five examples of long-stemmed feore (51®, 
54^, 101", 60', 132*) and only four certaiidy short 

^Engliache Studien, xxxvni, 156. 

'The priority of the religious epic over the secular one has 
received Btrong support from Sarrazin in the article cited, from 
Richter, Ohronologiache Studien, 1910, and from Klaeber, EngUsehe 
Studien, JU, 821 f. 

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(68*^ 71^^ 88", ").i The Metres, which are certainly 
la^, coiitain ei^ inartancee of momoeyUabic fiflj tungl, 
ma^m, wcBstm; ^ and ten cases of expanded reibal forms 
(flendu, smeaS, (fet5(2), do^, «te(6)). The earlier usages 
occur sporadically ev^i in the tenth century. We 
meet in Oenesis B. three examples of expansion {huan, 
239**; hu{e)n, 735**; fon, 697**); and in the Maldon 
one example of long-stemmed rrieare (239b). These 
many contrarieties show that individual and perhaps 
dialectal difFerences greatly weaken the value of our 
criteria; but we are hardly justified in entirely dis- 
carding them. As we have seen, the Biddies show a 
leaning to the earlier forms (particularly to many 
expansions like dissyllabic frean, never foimd in younger 
poems), while Cynewulf's religious oompoeitions consis- 
tently prefer tl^ later usages. As he tells us in the Elene 
(1237b) thait much of this spiritual output came from him, 
when old and ready for death, the inference of early schol- 
ars that the enigmas belong to ft3ie period of his prime, or 
even of his youth, finds in these forms some warrant 
that must not however be hailed as positive proof. A 
compaadson of Cynewulf 'e use of these criteria with that 
in Outhlac A would confirm rather than contradict the 
general conclusion that the Biddies were written before 
and the religious poems after the date of that work, 
approximately 750; 'but the argument is inconclusive, 
since it disregards the personal equation of both poets.* 

* Richter is surely guilty of a " suppresftio veri/' when he oonoeali 
(p. 58) the existence of unquestionably long stems in the Psalter , 
because they conflict with his theory of a late origin of the work. 
The results of such investigations should be carefully checked. 

' See Richter, pp. 68-70. There is nothing to support Trautmawi's 
assertion that the South was more tenacious of old forms than 
the North. 

* The small value of such arguments is amply indicated by a 

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Sarrazin's piX)oess of marking the termirms ad quern 
of the Cynewulfian poems has little probative value, but 
it is 80 highly illustrative of the illogical methods now in 
vogue that we must pause to consider it. Assuming that 
Cynewulf wrote in a Northumbrian dialect that has 
many points of contact with the Mercian, the dialect of 
Yorkshire in short — a fairly large assumption inasmuch 
as it has no valid evidence to sustain it — Sarrazin com- 
pares his speech, as far as the metre reveals it, with that 
of the Glosses in the Vespasian Psalter (MS. Vespasian 
A. 1),* which, with equal arbitrariness, he assigns to 
Northern Mercia of 835.^ Even if we were disposed to 
accept this series of unsustained assertions, we should 

oomparison of the Epvnal Olo89 of about 730 wit^ the far younger 
Corpus. In the use of words in el, ol, en, or we should argue 
a priori that the earlier Gloss would show a large preponderance 
of monofiyUabic forma and the later of dissyllabic. But such is 
certainly not the case. I mark in Spinal, hcssU (twice), segU, sigil 
(twice), p<Uester, regen, hrisil, r(J^, lehil near Corpus hcssl (twice), 
segl, sigl (twice), plastr, regn, hrisl, rdtir, lehl. On the other hand 
Epinal reads spaldr, soalfr, sefr, tetr, gmpl, ofr, and Corpus, spaidwr, 
soalfur, Offer, teter, gcspel, ofer. Evidently the secondary vowel 
was well developed by the time of Epinal (see Sarrazin, Eng, 
Stud,, xxxvin, 174). 

» Sweet, OJ}.T, pp. 183 f. 

'Waring, it is true, in the "Introduction" to Lindisf(9me and 
Bushivorth Chspels {Surtees Society, Pt. iv, 1865), p. cix, assigned 
t^eee glosses to ''the country immediately south of the Humber," 
but, for a time, scholars wrongly thought that they were Kentish 
(Sweet, Transa>ctions of Philological Society, 1875-6, p. 556), and 
later opinion seems to assign them to " the Southeastern borderlands 
of Mercia." (Brandl, Orundriss,^ n, 1054). Sir E. M. Thompson 
{Catalogue of Ancient M88. n, 10) points out that 'Hhe interlinear 
gloss throughout is in a minute pointed minuscule hand of the 
latter half of the ninth century." Any comparison between Cyne- 
wulf and these glosses could therefore only prove at best, that he 
wrote before 850. 

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naturally question the advantage of a oomparison between 
poetic language with its love of <dder forms and the 
pitifully plain diction of a glossator. The inference that 
Cynewulf is older than the Vespasian Psalter and Hymns, 
because many Cynewulfian words are not found in these 
Glosses, well exemplifies the common philological fallacy 
of fitting an absurd premise to a correct oonclusian; in- 
asmuch as many of the words cited as old appear in 
poems far younger than the Vespasian Olosses, the Judith, 
the Metres, the Maldon, The conclusion that Cynewulf 's 
poems are early because they employ only the endless forms 
of the ace sing, of long syllable feminines of the i- declen- 
sion, cwen, wyrd, mihty is totally unwarranted, since a 
search through lihe whole corpus of the poetry, early and 
late, reveals only one or two examples of the longer forms 
of accusative borrowed from the o-declension.* The 
uninflected forms of the nom. sing. fem. and nom. 
ace neut. of mycely yfel, monig, prove nothing for 
high age, as these are common at every period.^ What 
importance can be attached to Cynewulf's use of 
usic and eotvic, since the shorter accusative forms, us 
and edWf are not " exceptional ^^ but common in his 
poems ^ and since usic and eotvic are frequent at a much 
later period than the Psalter not only in the Northumbrian 
Gospels (see B-T, p. 1143), but in Southern texts of 
Anglian coloring ? * With such evidence as this — evidence 

« Moreover, Von der Warth has pointed out {Metriach'SprachUohea, 
Halte, 1908, pp. 7-11) that Cynewulf himself admits such accusatiyes 
as fulwihte {El 172) and wiate {And. 312). 

*Cf. Sarrazin himself, PBB, ix, 366; Sievers, Orammar* $ 296, 

* SprachachatZy l, 263; n, 633; BB, I, 83. 

♦Cf. Bede, Ecol. Hist, 386, 13; Epistola Alewandri {AngUa iv, 
139), 650, 554, 606, Caic. 

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severally and collectively worthless — Sarrazin reaches the 
fairly safe oondusion liwit Cynefwulf'e poems are prior 
to the PaaUer. But bow is tiiat ^nd attainted by an 
array of false arguments based upon a false method of 
comparison t 

Sarrazin makes some amends for the unsoundness of 
liis positive arguments by his complete refutation ^ of 
the impossible contentions of Bamouw based upon the 
use of the article and of the weak adjective without the 
article.^ Sarrazin^s conclusive counter arguments may 
be classified as follows: first, that the use of articles is 
not so much a matter of date as of individuality ; secondly, 
that, in our Anglo-Saxon poems, which exist only in late 
transmissions, many article-forms are due doubtless to 
the scribe; thirdly, that many seemingly weak forms of 
adjectives may be explained by the weakening of old 
inflections in the LWS. versions, so that it is impossible 
to say, in any given case, whether an old (weakened) 
strong form or an originally weak one is present ; fourthly, 
that the natural avoidance of suffix-rimes explains such 
forms as heardan clommum, hean huses, ecean lifes, 
ecean dryhines; fifthly, that the weak adj. without the 
article is naturally used in popular epics (Beovmlf) and 
in those religious poems that are close to popular models 
like the Andreas and the Exodtis; and finally that the 
weak adj. without weak article is no infallible sign of 
great antiquity since this phenomenon is frequently found 
in so late a text as ms. C (C. C. C. No. 322) of 
Waerferth's translation of Gregory's Dialogues, and since 

* Englische Studien, xxxvm, 145. Compare my protest against 
BamouVs invalid 'claims, Riddles, pp. Ixxvii-lzxyiii. 

* Bamouw, Tewtkritiache Unterauohungen, Leiden, 1902. 

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the proportioia of weak adjectives without the article to 
those with it (5:5) is Ifiiger in the very late Maidon 
(991) than in Cynewulf s religions poems. We are there- 
fore fully justified not only in refusing to accept 
BamouVs chronology of Anglo-Saxon poems that is based 
entirely upon these criteria, but in declining to regard 
the phenomena as in any way valid or helpf id indicaitions 
of dat?es. Not only do such tests not prove that Cynewulf 
wrote between 850 and 880, but they do not even furnish 
us with any tangible evidence from which we may draw 
reasonable conclusions. 

As a criterion of date, the technique of Cynewulf 's 
verse has been cited by Trautmann,* who roundly de- 
clares ; " Ausdruck und versbau weieen mit aller bestimmt- 
heit auf das 8 jahrhundert" Cynewulf was an artist, 
trained in all the best traditions of his country's poetry ; 
but so too was the author of the Judith, writing probably 
in the tenth century. Nothing can be more uncertain, 
as an indication of date, than technical skill or technical 
weakuess, since it belongs to the poet rather than to the 
period.^ Let me illustrate this uncertainty in Old 
English verse. Few Anglo-Saxon poems are older than 
the translation of Aldl^lm's De Creatura (Bid. 41) 
since, as we have seen, it comes from the same hand as 
the early Northumbrian Leiden Riddle, and yet the 
technique is far inferior to that of many late compositions. 
"Pauper poeta nescit antra Musarum." Tested by 
artificial standards, the Metres, with their many metrical 

^BB, I, 92. 

' Trautmann, BBy i, 120, would make delMM>er9e evidence for an 
early period. Qynewulf ueee 15:100, the MetrtB 8 or 0. This 
is merely a personal preference. Note that, in the case of BohweU- 
verse, the poete of the Rood and of Jitdith, two hundred years 
apart, use about the same number. 

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imperfectioiiB, would be adjudged younger than the later 
Brunariburh, which followed more poetic modek.^ Finally 
the many examples of alliteration upon imimportant 
words and the rimes of 8 and 8C have caused many 
scholars to assign a tenth-century date to the metrical 
division of the Paris Psalter J^ which, if we follow certain 
other criteria (supra), may be two centuries earlier. 
Hence this canon of technical skill cannot limit Cyne- 
wulf to any half-century. A poet is not an automaton, 
as these mechanical appraisers of verse would have us 

Even if we accept the two assumptions that Cyne- 
wulf was a Northumbrian, and that he wrote in the latter 
part of the eighth century, tte time^nored identification 
with Bishop Cynewulf who ruled the see of Lindisfame 
from 740 to 780, is not very plausible, since the name, 
" Cynewulf '' was very widely extended, occurring no less 
than twenty-one times in the Liber Vitae alone, and since 
nothing that we learn of this prelate from either Traut- 
mann ' or Brown * points to any connection with literature. 
But now that it has been shown that Trautmann's evidence 
supporting the Northumbrian origin of the poet is no evi- 

* Brandl, Orundriss* n, 1077, r^;ard8 the author of the Brunan- 
hurh as unsure in his metre, because he puts the alliteration 
upon a simple preposition (67b, heforan \>y8sum), and gives a 
verb precedence over a substantive (68b, ^(ga \>e Us aeogealb hSo) 
The critic is certainly unaware that heforan is equally important 
in Andre€t8j 571, 619, and that the second phrase is constantly 
recurring in the older poetry {Oenesia, 227, 1723, Hymns, 7"; cf. 
€hn, 969, Outhlac, 850), from which ^Ethelstan's singer drew. 

' Miss Bartlett's dissertation, pp. 41-49; Brandl, p. 1094; Richter, 
Chronologiaohe Btudien, p. 97. 

* BB, I, 88-115. 

* Engliache Studien, xxxvm, 225-233. 

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denoe at all and mopeover, since it seems impoesi'ble to 
limit rigidly the period of his activity, this identification 
falls outside of the sphere of likely conjecture. There are 
not the slightest grounds for connecting with the Lindis- 
fame -bishop our poetic churchman (for churchman his 
works prove him to he)* of the eighth or early ninth cen- 
tury, who may have lived anywhere north of the Thames. 
It is possible thait the poet and bishop were one — -a bare 
possibility with the chances tremendously against it. 
Neither more nor less probable is Professor Cook's identi- 
fication of our shadowy poet with the still more shadowy 
ecdesia84)ic Cynidf, who appended in 803 his signature 
to a decree at the Council of Clovesho.^ Yes, our poet 
may have been he, or indeed any other of the scores 
of priestly Cynewulfs during three or four generations. 
Attempts to give this phantom substance are painfully 
futile. Strange indeed that scholars have not taken warn- 
ing from the failure of the abortive efforts of earlier 
l^end-mabers to identify JElfric, the homilist, either 
with iElfric, Archbishop of Canterbury in 996, or with 
iElf ric, Archbishop of York, in 1023 1 

With many things in Dr. Carleton Brovm's article ' I 
am not in accord. The Northern home of Cynewulf 
and the Lindisf ame identification seem to me as shadowy 
as ever. Against his interpretation of the acrostic runes, 
I must enter my protest elsewhere. But it is a pleasure 
to acknowledge the generous service that he has rendered 
scholarship in calling forceful attention to the imper- 

' His Riddles do not teU against his prieethood, since aU the 
enigmas of this period came from churchmen, Aldhelm, Bofiifaoe, 
Tatwine, Eusehius. 

* Christ, pp. Ixxiii-lzxiv. 

• Engliache Studien, xxxvin, 196-233. 

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Bonality of the Ehne acrostic Its close likeness to the 
name-passages in the other Cynewulfian poems strongly 
atte^ its objectivity. And with the barring of these 
biographical allusions, Cynewnlf of the wild and wander- 
ing youth, w9io bore rich treasures from the mead-hall and 
paced the wide-ways on his proud steed, rides out of the 
story and vanishes in the moonshine of the last riddle, 
which a defliciously imconscious irony once invoked to 
establish the poet's claims as a roving minstrel — claims 
as insubstantial as the Moon's stolen beams in this poem. 
But when we "choose another light" for Cynewulf, let 
us beware of " common day." To convert the trembling 
" water-encompassed land " of those cosmic verses of the 
Christ (805-806) into the solid eaa*th of Lindisfame 
Island* and to lift our shadowy dreamer of spiritual 
visions into the fierce rays that beat upon an eighth 
century episcopal throne ie merely to substitute for airy 
irresponsible romance, pedantic philological legend. 

The aims of this paper have been wholly destructive. 
It has not sought to assign yet another home and time 
to Cynewulf; nor indeed has it striven to overthrow the 
contention of the Anglian origin of the poet: but it has 
served its purpose if it has succeeded in showing that 
many of the conclusions of philologists are not legitimate 
inferences from tibeir premises, and that the present 
structure of Old English literary history is largely based 
upon this fallacious reasoning. Let us look at things as 
they are and abandon these fictions, which we have blindly 
accepted from the hands of authority: that Cynewulf 
wrote after 750, because he was forced by the exigencies 
of an enigma to employ a form current in 740 and before ; 

' Trautmann, BB, i, 94. 

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that Cynewulf was a JSTorthum'briaii, because his verse 
offers a dozen phenomena everywhere appearing in works 
of the South; that the Anglian origin of this poetry is 
established by the absence of a verbal syncope, which is 
«dso absent from the Southern writings of this early 
period, and by the presence of certain words, miany of 
which are also present in Wessex and Kent; that the 
range of Cynewulf s authorship may be definitely deter- 
mined by means of criteria, which fail absolutely when 
applied ito poems bearing his signature; that tl^ age 
of his poetry may be safely estimated by a comparison 
of his language with that of interlinear glosses; and, 
finally, that our poet may be confidently identified 
with Bishop Cynewulf of Lindisf ame, because he lived 
perhaps at the same period, and bore the same widely 
extended name. It is the duty of every independent 
thinker to cast off this dead weight of fallacy which has 
hampered us so long. ^^ His burden loosed from off his 
shoulders, and fell from off his back ond began to tumble, 
and so continued to do * * * and then was he glad 
and lightsome." 

Fbedebick Tuppbb, Jb. 

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The relati<Mi of Latin lyric poetry to tte lyric poetry of 
the Romance peoples remains one of the interesting 
problems of medieval literature. It has already chal- 
lenged the industry of generations of investigators with 
no definite result^ And it may be doubted whether 
conclusions which are self-convincing will be reached in 
the immediate future. The chief hindrance to a satis- 
factory solution is presented, of course, by the incom- 
pleteness of relevant material. The examples of Latin 
lyrics which may be considered as expressive of natural 
emotion are few in number before the end of the eleventh 
century, and the poems of William IX are the first in 
Romance. There may be found here and there, to be 
sure, scattered hints of the existence of non-artistic poetry, 
whether in Latin or the vernacular, but the information 
so furnished by Latin writers is uncertain as well as 
meager. Widely different interpretations may be put 
on it. Contradictory theories find inconclusive support 
in it, further confusing an already perplexing preblem. 
In view of all this doubt, and the difficulties with which 
the subject is still beset, it may not be unprofitable to 
go over the ground once more, and arrange the documents 

* Cf . H. Suchier and A. Birch-Hirschfeld, Oeaohiohte der fronts. Lit,, 
pp. 8, 10; E. WechsslcfT, Kritischer Jahresherioht ilher die Fort- 
schritte der romanischen Philologie, v (1897-1898), pp. 393-396; 
C. M. de VasoonceUos, Cancioneiro da Ayuda (Haille, 1904) n, pp. 
836-940; C. Voretzsch, Einfuhrung in das Studium der altfrane. 
Lit,, pp. 188-196; Fr. Novati, Melanges Wilmotte, pp. 417-441. 


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which allude to non-literary poetry, Latin or Romance, 
in their chronological order from the first century to 
the eleventL While nothing new may be discovered 
from such a daesification it will be useful to have at 
hand, grouped together, the texts from which the opposing 
factions draw their partisan arguments.^ 

Now when the Latin authors of this long period meniticHi 
non-literary or popular poetry do they use any peculiar 
nomenclature? Apparently not. The terms in which 
they refer to it are the words which are also applied 
to the literary lyric, unless an exception may be made 
for the word carmen, which rarely designates non-artistic 
compositions. The same terms are also employed for 
church hymns and songs. It is the qualification of the 
word, or the context, whi<jh decides its meaning. Ac- 
cordingly here, as in classical poetry, we find canticum 
(a)y cantilena (a?) and cantio (ones), following the 
order of their frequency.^ Now canticum, and ca/rUio enjoy 
the privileges of Latin citizenship. Cantilena is only 
partly accredited. It does not mean a lyric poem with 
the best writers of the Augustan Age. Terence had 

*The review wiU be limited to texta coming from Latin, or 
Romance territory, because the documents which are of Germanic 
origin have been thoroughly exploited, and at the present moment 
are being analyzed by PhMap S. Allen, in a series of monographs 
on Medieval XiyricB and the Medieval Mimus in Modem Philology, 
Allen does not confine himself to German authors, of course, but 
his interest draws him more to the German side. On the other 
hand, Romance lyric is the special object of J. 6. Beck*s studies 
on medieval music and poetry {Die Melodien der Troulxidoure, La 
Musique dea Troubadours , etc.), from which we may expect con- 
siderable additions to our knowledge of medieval poetic art and 
perhaps a satisfactory explanation of its sources. 

'See the Thesaurus Linguae Latinaey under these heads. 

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282 F. M. WABEBN 

oonoeded its etymological rights, though he uses it but 
onoe, and then as a proverb.* But when we come down 
to Cicero, Seneoa and their oontemporaries cantilena sig- 
nifies a frivolous remcurk only, or even a bit of gossip. 
With the second century, however, it returns to its root 
sense and is found as ^^eong" in various passages of 
Aulus Gellius, side by side with its less dignified attribu- 
tion of a memory aiding jingle.^ 

In the third century there seems to be no mention of 
cantilena, but in the fourth it recurs many times and 
with many authors, ecclesiastical and secular, and always 
in its literal acceptation.' 

The fourth century does even more. It tells us of the 
existence of semi-popular, or popidar, songs which cele- 
brate an historical event. It tells us how they were sung, 
and perhaps composed, and these embryo epics of the 
people it calls cantilenae. The campaigns which Aurelian 
fooight many years before he was made emperor (or 
about 240) are narrated by Flavins Vopiscus, who 
flourished in the first quarter of the fourth century (-300- 

> Cantilenam eandem canis. P1u>rmio m, 2. 

* ... neque ridenda sit notissima ilia yeftenim poetarum de 
Gaenide et Oaeneo cantilena. Nootea Attioae iz, 4, 6. From the 
context this ''cantilena" must be a song of the semi-mjthical, 
popular, unclean type. The alliteration of its title — but not its 
probabde subject — ^reminds one of the lines: Ne I'out Basiliea ne 
sis frere Baeanz {Roland, 291), and E si i furent e Gerins e 
G^eriers (do., 107). — ^A song must also be meant in "et siout in 
voluptatibus cultus atque yictus, ita in cantilenarum quoque mollitiis 
anteiretis." 0. c. xix, 0, 4. But in "quasi quaedam cantilena 
rhetodca, facilius adhaerere memoriae tuae potuit" (o. c. z» 19), 
we are dealing with mnemonic Terse. 

* See Ausonius of Bordeaux, Jerome's Vulffote, Ambrose of Milan, 
and, later, St. Augustine (in his commentaries on the Paalmi), 
and Martianus Capella. 

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327-). And he ^ds to his account of the wars, that 
boys composed songs and dances in honor of Aurelian's 
persofnal prowess against the Sarmatians, and afterwards 
against the Franks.^ In another work, his Saturmrms, 
Vopiscns gives to cantilena a wider meaning, which in- 
cludes perhaps all songs of the people. As where speaking 
of Egyptians he says: " atque adeo vani liberi novarum 
rerum usque ad cantilenas publicas cupientes." ^ 

In the same century, but perhaps fifty years after 
Vopiscus, another wellknown author, Ammianus Mar- 
cellinus (-390-), uses the term cantilena for non-literary 
songs. In a passage which regrets the relaxation of 
discipline among the soldiers imder Julian, and their 
increasing love of luxury, Ammianus specifies as par- 
ticularly reprehensible their fondness for effeminate 
melodies: " Quibus tam maculosis acoessere flagitia dis- 
ciplinffi castrensis, cum miles cantilenas meditaretur 
pro jubilo moUiores." ^ On the other hand, Ammianus' 
contemporaries apply cantilenas to literary compositions 
in verse, as witness Aurelius Symmachus (f402), 
educated in Gaul but a consul in Africa, who sends a 
poem to a friend with the request : " elaboratam . . aocipe 
cantilenam." The lines of the poem are hexameters. 
Some of them rime at the cesura and end (the leonine 

^ . . . adeo ut etiam ballistia pueri et saltatiunculas in AureUanum 
tales componerent, quibus diebus festis militariter saltitarent: 

Mille, mUle, miHe, [mille, mille] decollayimus, etc., Aureli<pnu8y 
c. 6. 

Unde iterum de eo facta est cantilena: 

Mille Samiatas, mille Francos semel et semel occidimus, 

Mille, [mille, mille, mille, mille] Persas quaerimus. 0. c. c. 7. 

Cf. J. G. Kempf, JahrhUoher fUr classische Philologie, Supplement 
Band xxvi (1901), pp. 357-360, 387-390. 

•c. 7. 

* L. xxn, 4, «. 


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284 r. M. WABBEN 

rime), but whether intentionally or through accident does 
not appear.^ 

From these instances we may learn that no light is 
thrown on the nature of a poem by the designation 
cantilena. It may be literary or it may be non-literary, 
popular or eemi-popular. The significance to be attributed 
depends on the context in each case. Any lyric written 
or sung is called cantilena. But while no result of any 
moment has been reached by this summary, the meaning 
which is given to cantilena in Flavins Vopiscus, that 
of a song accompanying dance movemen<ts, suggests 
another query which involves the theory of the origin 
of poetry itself. It is not at all my intention to 
enter upon the discussion of this theory, nor "to consider 
with any amount of detail any particular argument for 
it or against it. But while we are reviewing the Latin 
literature of classical and post-classical times with ref- 
erence to its allusions to possible popular poetry, it may 
be well to scrutinize the places where such allusions are 
made, with dance movements especially in mind. Perhaps 
they may be found to contain material which will add 
something to our understanding of the general subject. 
For in the debate on what might be possible prototypes 
of Romance lyrics, we know how great a stress is laid 
on the connection between singing and dancing, disclosed 
either by Latin documents which were written before 
the twelfth century, or by vestiges of popular customs 
which survived in the artistic poetry of the vernacular. 

It will be recalled that the earliest writers of classical 
antiquity, Homer and Hesiod, describe dance movements 
to musical accompaniment, and in one of the first books 

* Mon. Oerm. Hist,, Auc. Antiq. vi, p. 1, 1. 16. 

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of the Old Testament the womeoi under Miriam's leader- 
ship chorueed their joy at the destruction of Pharoah's 
host^ These movoments seem to be like the leaping and 
dancing of women in a circle, which Virgil and Horace 
call coreas, and which persist today in children's rounds. 
Our knowledge of them in ancient times is somewhat in- 
creased by the comm«its of Apuleius (-150-), who speaks 
of choruses composed of both sexes and lead by a precentor.* 
And in the fourth century choruses are mentioned by 
Hilary of Poitiers ( f 366), who applies to the songs 
which accompanded their movements the word cantica.^ 
A few years later Saint Jerome translates the Hebrew 
of I Samuel xviii, noticed above, into the terms which 
many repetitions down through the Middle Ages have 
made familiar to all : " mulieres . . . cantantes, chorosque 
duoentee . . . Et praecinebant mulieres ludentes, atque 
dicentes. . ." 

As survivals of heathen practice, in Eoman territory 
at least, it was natural that women's choruses and their 
songs should soon encounter ecclesiastical censure. By 
the fourth century the clergy had taken alarm at their 
prevalence, and were warning their congregations against 
engaging in them. Amobius Afer (-300-), of Numidia, 
in a treatise directed at pagan beliefs and practices, 
subjects such songs and dances to the most vigorous 

« Eofodua XV, 20, 21. Similar forms of public rejoicing are 
noted in / Sctmuel xvin, 6, 7, and Judith xv, 12, 13, xvi, 1, 2. 
The ficcount in the Septuagint version of Judith supplies the largest 
amount of detail. 

* Liber de Mundo, c. 29, 35. 

' . . . hisque cum choris canticisque saltatum. Ck>mmentar7 on 
Matthew xn, 22; in Migne, Patrologia Latina ix, 092. 

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286 F. M. WABBEN 

condemnation.* Hilary of Poitiers, in the paflsage 
already quoted, couples dances and dance songs with idol 
worship, and Saint Jerome, in telling how he was tempted 
in the desert, says that choruses of girls formed part 
of his temptation.^ In a subsequent letter of friendly 
counsel to a young widow. Saint Jerome denounces these 
choruses of the Devil as most pestiferous.' This was 
the rooted opibion also of Jerome's younger contemporary, 
Saint Augustine (f 429), who neglects no opportunity 
to stigmatize the " choraula '^ and the " chorus meretri- 
cum,"* while Nioetas, who was bishop of Aquileja in 
the second quarter of the fifth century ( f about 450), 
counts among the works of the adversary the worship 
of idols, magic, eooth-saying, theatres, unoleannese, drunk- 
enness, choruses and lies.*^ Yet, in spite of this very 
determined opposition, there are writers of the fifth cen- 
tury, including Claudian, Dracontius of Africa ( f about 
460), and the cultured Sidonius Apollinaris ( f about 

* Idciroo animaa misit, ut res sancti atque augustissimi nominis 
symphoniacas agerent et fistulatorias hie artes, ut inflandis bucculas 
distenderent tibiis, cantionibufi ut praeirent obscoenis numerositer, 
et Bcabillorum ooncrepationibufl Bonoris, quibus animarum aUa 
laaciYiens multitudo inoompositos oorporum disaolveretur in motus, 
saltitaret, et cantaret, orbes saltatarios verteret. . . Adveraus Chntea 
Uy c. 42; in Migne, o. o, v, 881, 882. 

' . . choris inter eram puellarum. Epiatola zxn (dated about 
384) ; in Migne, o. o. xxn, 398. 

'Fidicinae et psaltriae, et istiusmodi chorum diaboli, quasi 
mortifera sirenarum carmina proturba ex aedibus tuis. Epiat. uv 
(about 394) ; in Migne, o. c. xxn, 556. 

*De Civitate Dei vi, 7 (a/Iso nr, 22, cited by E. Paral in Lea 
Jongleurs en France au moyen dge, p. 13, n. 1 ) ; Contre Julianum 
4, 3, 18; Commentary on Psalm zcvi, 10; Sermo ix (Migne, o. o. 
xxxvin, 77, 79, 86), etc. 

*Emplanatio Sgmholi, edited by G. P. Caspari in his Kirohenhie' 
iorische Aneodota i, pp. 342, 343 ((Dhristiania, 1883). 

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488), bishop of Clermont-Ferrand, whose attitude towards 
choruses is, at least, tolerant Prosper of Aquitania 
( t about 463) and Faustus (-464-484-), bishop of Riez 
(Basses-Alpes), make free use of the word chorus in 
their exegesis of Scripture, without any qualification 

In the midst of so rich and varied testimony regarding 
the universality of chorus dancing and singing, it is 
interesting to find one witness whose family relations 
have forced his utterance. It is a bishop, Ruric of 
Limoges ( f about 507), who strikes the personal note, 
not as a pastor, but as the father of a prodigal eon, 
Constantine. Constantine is away from his father'^ 
house, leading a life of dissipation. In a letter of 
earnest admonition his father urges him to forsake his 
evil companions and return: " Quamlibet Baocho, sym* 
phoniis et diversis musicis nee non etiam et puellarum 
choris te deditum esse cognoverim . . parentibus quoque 
operam dare quam cantibus." ^ The situation indicated 
by Ruric's correspondence is not the ordinary one of 
rustic dancing and singing. It must refer to (the choruses 
of harlots and the songs of the brothel. But the passage 
is valuable because of its locality and date, and also because 
it explains (the spirit of hostility which the church showed 
to choruses and chorus songs from the beginnings of its 
organized convocations. While many of the dances and 
melodies were no doubt clean, their association with 
heathen performances on the one hand and with coarse 
actions on the other involved the whole conoeption of 
dance movements and music. 

For this reason ecclesiastical councils condemn the 

* Mon, Oerm, Hiet. Auc. Aniiq, vm, p. 332, 11. 0-12. 

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288 F. U. WABBEN 

practice in its entirety. The council held at Agde 
(Herault), in 506, or just before Rune's death, formu- 
lated a canon which commanded its priests and deacons 
to withdraw from marriage feasts and gatherings, "ubi 
amatoria cantantur et turpia, aut obscaeni motus corporum 
choris et saltabus efferentur. . .'' ^ Of course there re- 
mains the possibility that the dances on such occasions were 
performed by professionals, or by the same class whidi 
young Constantino frequented. But it is only a pos- 
sibility, since not many years after the council of Agde 
a proBceptum of Childebert I, who was king of Paris 
from 511 to 558, warns against idol worship and other 
evil practices: "noctes pervigiles cum ebrietate, scur- 
rilitate vel cantecis, otiam in ipsis sacris diebus pascha, 
natali Domini et reliquis feetivitatibus vel adveniente 
die domineco bansatrices per villas ambulare." ^ 

Other canons which may aleo date from the sixth cen- 
tury specify the places and circumstances where dancing 
and singing could not be tolerated. A canon of the 
council of Aries (524), cited by Burchard of Worms 
( f 1026), prohibits dances and "carmina'^ (incanta- 
tions? charms?) at funerals.' Burchard also cites from 
a council held at Braga in Portugal in 561 or 572 a 
canon which forbids dancing before churches.* This 

^Mansi, Sacra. ConoiUa, Tin, 331: canon zzxiz. 

* Mon. Oerm, Hist., Capitularia i, pp. 2, 3. 

'NuUus ibi praesumat diabolica oarmina cantare, non joca et 
Baltationee facere, qua« pagani diabolo dooente adinv^nenmt. Migne, 
o. c. CXL, 838. This canon is not given by the editor of the 
Mon. Oerm. Hist. (Concilia i), and therefore may not be one ordered 
at Aries. 

*Si quis balationes ante ecclesias sanctorum fecerit. . . Migne, 
o. 0. CXL, 839. 

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particular practice surely belonged to the people, and was 
not at all ppofeesional. It will give rise to many admon- 
itions in later canons, which will not only censure the 
dances but also the songs that accompanied them. An 
instance in point is where the council of Toledo, sitting 
in 589, forbids such disturbances of public worship, 
disturbances which were most in evidence on church 
holidays.^ And about this time, we may suppose, was 
held the council of Carthage cited by Burchard, whose 
canon condemns songs near churches, without any mention 
of dancing.^ 

There can be no doubt about the performers in Spain, 
at least. It is the ^' vulgus " that danced and sang near 
the churches on festival days, and not wantons. And 
because the language of the other councils is practically 
the same, we may be justified in concluding that the 
spaces before the churches were used by the parish as 
a dance floor, not only in Spain, but in France and 
elsewhere. And we know this practice has survived all 
dynasties, even the Bourbon, down even to the present 

It is not ecclesiastical canons, however, whether voted 

* Extenninanda omnino est irreligioea oonsuetudo, quam vulgos 
per sanctorum solennitates agere consueTit; ut populi, qui debent 
officia divina attendere, aafttatiombufi et turpibus inyigil^it canticis; 
non Bolum sibi nocentes, sed et reUgioeomin offioiis perstrepentes. 
Mansi, o. c. ix, 999 (oanon 23). — ^Professor G. C. Marden tells 
me that boys still dance on high days before the chancel of the 
Toledo Cathedral, in spite of the clergy's disapproval (the so-called 
"seises"). Of. Los Seiaea de la Catedral de SevUla, por Don Simon 
de la Rosa y Lopez (Seville, 1904), p. 340, n., which Professor 
H. R. Lang has called to my attention. 

'Canticum turpe atque luxuriosum circa eoclesias atque in atriis 
ecclesiae agere omnino contradicimus, quod ubique vitandum est 
Migne, ). o., 691. 

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290 r. M. WABBSN 

in France or elsewhere, which afford the most interesting 
information about song and dance in the sixth century. 
It is rather en author of reputation, a poet of elegant 
Latinity, a product of Italian culture, but who wrote, 
like Euric of Limoges, on what will be storied ground 
in tte annals of medieval literature, the territory south 
of the Loire, the future province of Poitou. Venantius 
Fortunatus had come to France towards 670, enjoyed there 
the friendship of the historian, Gregory of Tours, and 
won the confidence of Eadegunda of Thuringia. This 
unfortunate princess, released from an unwelcome union 
with Chlothar I, had gone to Poitiers and founded the 
abbey of St. Croix, about 667. Twenty years later she 
passed away in odor of sanctity. Venantius outlived her 
and consecrated his pen to the narration of her good 
works. At one place in his biography, to illustrate the 
ex-queen's complete detachment from the world and her 
distrust of its echoes even, he relates this anecdote: 
" Quadam vice obumbrante jam noctis crepusculo inter 
coraulas [var. corollas] et citharas dum circa monasterium 
a saecularibus multo fremitu cantaretur et dancta 
[Radegunda] duabus testibus perorasset diutius, dicit 
quaedam monacha sermone joculari: Domina, recognovi 
unam de meis canticis a ealtantibus praedicari. Cui res- 
pondit: Grande est, si te delectat conjunctam religioni 
audii^e odorem saeculi. Adhuc soror pronuntiat: Vere, 
domina, duas et tres hie modo meas canticas audivi 
quas tenui [var. duo et tria cantica audivi quae retinui]. 
Sancta respondit: Teste Deo me nihil audisse modo 
saeculare de cantico."* 

The passage, as we have said, is a most interesting one, 

^Mon, Qertn. Hist,, Auc. Antiq. iv,* pp. 47, 48. 

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but it is also oonfusiug. The word canticum, or cantica, 
is used for the sacred hymn and the melody siuig bj the 
dancers indifferently, without qualifioaticoi. We are alao 
told there were several hymns as there were several corres- 
ponding dance melodies (^^ duas et tres"). Now if we 
try to determine the original song in each particular case, 
whether it was the hymn or the dance melody, in absence 
of all guidance from the context we are forced back on 
three hypotheses.^ We may assume either that the dancers 
had heard at services hdd in ihe abbey the melodies to 
which they timed their movemients, or that both the 
church hymns and the dance music derived from the 
same tunes, old and known to all classes of people, or that 
Badegunda's novice consciously chose a profane song as 
a vehicle for the expression of her spiritual desires. 
The last hypothesis seems inacceptable from its nature, 
yet the words which Venantius puts into the nun's mouth 
apparently support it nevertheless. 

The problem posed by the story of Radegunda is by 
no means an isolated one, though it comes forward here for 
the first time. Centuries later, in the heart of the Middle 
Ages, as Jean Beck has discovered, the musical notation 

^ Again it is evident that nothing can be learned from the term 
canticum. The councils of Toledo and Carthage, cited above, had 
qualified " canticum " with the adjective " turpe." Previous to their 
canons, about the year 600, the poet Tuccianus used the word 
without a qualifier, but in the secular sense entirely: 
Cantica gignit amor et amorem cantica gignunt: 
Cantandum est ut ametur et ut cantetur amandum. 

E. Baehrens, Poetae Latini MinoreB iv, p. 360. 
We are obliged to conclude, therefore, that oaniioumf when not 
specifically designated, possesses the general meaning of its ety- 
mology. It was any kind of a song secular or religious in the 
sixth century, as it had been in the first. 

Digitized by 



of the hymn, Agmina mHitiae, etc, of the erotic Pro- 
vongal poem, Uautrier cvidcU aver druda, and of a song 
without words is one and the same. In explanation of 
this identity Beck offers three possible solutions: that 
the clergy had worked over a secular lyric, sung by the 
people on days of public rejoicing, into a religious hymn ; 
that the hymn melody was invented first and was appro- 
priated by the Provencal poet ; that the song without words 
is older than either of the others and gave them their 
model, as it did a French poem which is but partly pre- 
served in a single manuscript. Each of these three solu- 
tions Beck argues at length. He closely examines the 
metrical structure of the different texts involved, and 
after a detailed comparison he concludes that the song 
without words, an instrumental composition entirely, pre- 
ceded all the others and may be considered their rhyth- 
mical source.^ Now for the "cantica" of the Poitevin 
nun and her music-loving compatriots we have neither texts 
nor ecotres. But if we may be allowed to apply Beck's 
conclusion to a quite similar situation, we might assume 
that an old melody of Provence, old even in the sixdi 
century, had inspired the educated, lettered musician and 
the untutored poets of the people.* 

^Die Melodien, pp. 65-69. 

*In his recent work {La Muaique dea Troubadours, Paris, 1910), 
Beck inclines more decidedly towards the opinion that the source 
of Troubadour music (and therefore of Romance lyric poetry) is 
to be found in the music of the church (see La Musique dea Trou- 
badours, pp. 19-24). In the case of Venantius particularly he has 
disooyered that the music of the hymn Ave maris steUa, oonmionly 
ascribed to him, was worked over for the score of the Provencal 
poem, Maria, Deu maire, of the end of the eleventh century 
or beginning of the twelfth (cf. Bartsch, Ohrestomathie provenoale, 
ool. 19). The idea that Latin church poetry, especially the sequence. 

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The Conincil of Toledo inveighs against song and dance 
in the vicinity of churches by people who should be at- 
tending the church office. Venantius' story shows how 
these songs distract the attention of holy nuns from their 
pious meditations. But the vogue they enjoyed was not 
satisfied in creating diversions outside the sacred edifice 
merely. They went so far as to invade it. At least we 
are led to make this inference from the decree of a church 
council sitting at this very time (673 to 603) at Auxerre, 
not far from the scene of Venantius' activity. The men- 
tion of such irreverence by so important a convocation 
goes far to prove its general prevalence. The ninth 
canon of the coimcil of Auxerre says: " Non licet in ec- 
clesia chorus saecularium vel puellarum cantica exercere 
nee oonvivia in ecclesia praeparare, quia scriptum est: 
Domus mea domus oratiorm vocabitur.^^ * It is true that 
Johann Kelle interprets this canon very differently.^ He 
maintains that the " chorus^' and "cantica" prohibited 
by the canon are the singing of Psalms and the liturgy by 
women, stationed within the chancel or near it Dance 
songs are not at all in mind. But this interpretation 
neglects the context, which forbids banquets in the 
churches, and also the quotation from Scripture which 
summarizes the spirit of the canon. That women should 
lead in singing the liturgy might be contrary to eccles- 
iastical regulations, but it could not be judged irreligious. 

might be the model for the Troubadour ItHc was advanoed by 
Wilheim Meyer in his Fra^menta Burana (cf. Oeaiimmelte Abhand- 
lunffen i, pp. 61-55) ten years or more ago. 

^Mon, Oerm, Hist, Concilia i, p. 180. 

'In his Oeachichte der deuiachen Literatwry pp. 47, 48, and 
recently in the Sitzungsheriohie der Wiener Akademie, Phil.-Hist. 
Klasse cua (1909), no. 2. 

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294 r. T£. wABBXiir 

And while the churches in the larger communities would 
hardly harbor popular celebratione within their walls, it 
is wholly probable that the rural population at this time 
possessed no other meeting-place, and had gradually yielded 
to the temptation to transfer the festivals which they were 
accustomed to celebrate before the church in pleasant 
weather to the church itself, whenever personal comfort or 
the success of the entertainment were enhanced by it 
This inference might be drawn from the canon of Toledo 
or Venantius' anecdote. It could also be supported by 
the decree of the council of Carthage, which has already 
been quoted, and by an important ordinance framed on 
French soil by a council held at Chalons between 639 and 
664.^ It will be confirmed, at the beginning of the 
eleventh century, by the account which Bernard of Angers 
will give of the vigils held in the church of Saint Fides 
of Conques.^ 

^Valde omnibuB nuscetur esae decretum, ne per dedicationes 
basilicarum aut festivitates marlTrum ad ipsa aolemnia oonfluentea 
obscina et turpea cantica, dum orare debent aut dericus psallentee 
audire, cum choris foemineis, turpia quidem, decantare videantor 
[or chorus foemineuB turpia quidem et obeooeua caoiica decantare 
videntur, dum aut orare debent aut clericos psallantes audire]. 
Unde convenit, ut aaoerdotes loci illos a septa basiUcanun Tel 
porticus ipsarum basilicarum, etiam et ab ipsis atriis vetare debiant 
et arcere. . . Mon, €hrm. Hist., Ck>ncilia i, p. 212 (cancm 19). 

*See page 310. Other documents of the sixth century that speak 
of singing and dancing in Romance territory include a canon of 
Ferrandus of Carthage ( f about 550): ''Ut nullus Christianus 
ballare vel cantare in nuptiis audeat" (Migne, o. o. Lxvn, 959), 
and oanon 40 of the counciJi of Auxerre (573-603): "Non licet 
presbytero inter epulas cantare nee saltare" {Mon, Cferm, Hist,, 
Ck>ncilia i, p. 1S3). A passage in a sermon ascribed to Gsesar of 
Aries (t542) : "Quam multi rustioi et quam mult® mulieres 
rusticanae cantica diabolica, amatoria et turpia memoriter retinent 
et ore decantant" (Migne, o. c. xzxix, 2325, cited by Gr5ber, 

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After this comparative richness of allusion to popular 
80ngs and dances in the sixth c^itury, the dearth of 
mention, which the records of the seventh betray, comes 
somewhat in the nature of a surprise. Indeed the only 
sign of their existence on French soil, besides the canon 
of -the council of Chalons which we have already cited, 
is given by St. Ouen (f683), bishop of Rouen. Among 
his works is a life of St. Eloi, who was bishop of Noyon 
(Oise) from 639 to 659. St. Eloi had preached a ser- 
mon, so St. Ouen says, in which he warned all true Chris- 
tians to refrain from pagan practices on saints' days. 
And among these reprehensible customs are " vallationes 
vel saltationes (add. " aut caraulas ") aut oantica diabol- 
ica," which he afterwards terms " cantica gentilium." * 
Outeide of France, in the Romance country of Spain, 
Isidore of Seville (f 636) had already composed his glos- 
sary (Originum). There he defines choreae as "ludi- 
crum cantilenae, vel saltationes classium," ^ which means, 

0rundri88 u, p. 444), and another eometimes ascribed to Saint 
Augustine, sometimes to Csesar of Aries: "Ne forte detrahendo, 
male loquendo, et in Sanctis festivitatibus choroe duoendo, cantica 
turpia et luxuriosa proferendo de lingua sua. . . Iste enim infelioes 
et miseri homines, qui balationes et saltationes ante ipsas basilicas 
sanctorum exercere nee metuunt nee erubescunt, etei christian! ad 
ecclesiam venerint, pagani de ecclesia revertuntur; quia ista 
consuetudo bakindi de Paganorum observatione remaneit" (Migne, 
I, c, 2239), throw additional light on the prevalence of popular 
singing and dancing. Of. also Migne, I, c, 2165: "et cantica 
luxuriosa vel turpia proferentes libenter audierit," and 2241 : " surgit 
velut phreneticus et insanus balare diabolioo more, saltare, verba 
turpia et amatoria vel luxuriosa cantare." Though the authorship 
of these sermons remains doubtful, the customs they denounce seem 
to antedate the seventh century at least. 

^Mon. Otrm. Hist., Scrip. Berum Mer. iv, p. 706, 1. i; cf. p. 
707, 11. 25, 26. St. Eloi was bom near Limoges. 

*Orig., VI, 19, 6. 

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296 F. M. WABBBN 

if we paraphrase rightly, that he considered the song 
the oral expression, of the dance. 

For several decades the eighth century resembles the 
seventh in the meagemess of information it offers re- 
garding these amusements of the people. A glossary of 
the years intervening between 690 and 760 again defines 
chorea as " sonus in ludorum a coro dictum." ^ in apparent 
imi1;ation of Isidore. Towards 743 a general council, 
held at Rome, makes especial reference to the January 
Calends, and forbids priests to be present at feasts during 
their festivities, " et per vices et per plateas cantationee 
et choros ducere." ^ About the same time Abbot Pirmin- 
ius (f 753), of uncertain residence but possibly an Alsa- 
tian, is said to have warned all believers against dancing, 
singing and games, on all occasions and in every locality.^ 

The last quarter of the eighth century sees popular 
song and dance once more in evidence. And the state- 
ments which the writers of the day make regarding them 
add considerably to our knowledge of the actual condi- 
tion of things. From these authors we learn that the 
dance, particularly the dancing of women, is still accom- 
panied by song. We are also told of secular songs which 
are not connected with dancing. For the first time pro- 
fessional purveyors of dances, songs and games come for- 
ward, the histriones, the mimi, the joculatores. The per- 

^ Corpus Glo88. LaU v, p. 185 (Leipzig, 1894). The glossary 
is preserved in a MS. of the VIII-IX century. Isidore's definition 
is also given in it* 

* Mon, Germ. Hist., Concilia n, p. 15, 16 (canon 9). 

' Nullus Christianorum neque ad ecclesiam, neque in domibus, 
neque in trivio, nee in ullo loco balationes, cantationes, saltationes, 
jocus et lusa diabolica facere non praesumat. Migne, o. o. Lzxxiz, 
1041, D. 

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formances of these mountebanks and jugglers must have 
been peculiarly welcome, for in 789 Charlemagne was 
forced to issue a capitulary, which forbids the clergy to 
receive the jocvlaiores into their houses.^ And Alcuin 
even, who died in 804, was moved to voice his regret at 
the attention paid them by his colleagues, who evidently 
preferred secular music at their meals to the reading of 
Scripture.^ Of a more general bearing is tie canon of 
the council held at Frejus (Var) in 796 or 797. It 
commands the clergy not to take delight in hunting, nor 
" in canticis eecularibus ... in liris et tibiis et his simi- 
libus lusibus." * To all these admonitions another capit- 
ulary of Charlemagne, promulgated just at the beginning 
of the new century, in 802, adds the authority of the im- 
perial government* 

But it is under the immediate successors of Charle- 
magne that warnings and injunctions against dancing and 
singing abound. A new council, convened at Eome in 
826, extends the prohibition of the former one of 743 
from the January Calends to all holy da^s. And it is 
women who are particularly aimed at now.*^ In France, 

*lfon. Oerm, Hist., Capitularia i, p. 64; cf. n, p. 179, 1. 24. 

' Verba Dei legantur in sacerdotal! convivio. Ibi deoet lectorem 
audiri, non citbaristam ; sermones patrum, non carmina gentilium. 
Mon, Oerm. Hist., Epistolarum iv, p. ISd, 11. 21, 22. The allusion 
here is to heroic poetry of German origin. See below, page 299, n. 1. 

* Mon. Germ. Hist., Concilia n, p. 191, 11. 19, 20. Note that 
dances are not mentioned in connection with the songs. 

* . . , non inanis lusibus vel conyiriis secularibus vel canticis vel 
luxuriosis usum habeant. Mon. Oerm. Hist.^ Capitularia i, p. 96, 
1. 7. 

' Sunt quidam, et maximae mulieres, qui festis ac sacris diebus 
atque sanctorum nataliciis non pro eorum, quibus debent . . , sed 
ballando, verba turpia decantando, choros tenendo ac duoendo, 
similitudinem paganorum peragendo advenire procurant. Mon, 

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298 7. M. WABBEN 

the council of Paris of 829 condemns the participation 
of Christians in singing low songs. ^ Other aflsemblies of 
French clergy, at Chalons and Tours in 813 and Paris 
in 826, deprecate the welcome extended to scurrae and 
histriones, but have no direct condemnation for song and 
dance. ^ \ 

With the records of the next generation, the second 
third of the ninth century, we draw near to the fatherland 
of Komance lyric poetry, the valleys of the Loire and 
Seine. Secular songs and dances on Sunday are con- 
demned at crossroads, in squares and houses by a capitulary 
of the year 858 given by Herard, archbishop of Tours. 
They would be a relic of paganism.^ And about the 
same time, in the nearby diocese of Meaux, Bishop Hilde- 
garius (855-873) is supposed to have been composing 
the biography of a predecessor. Bishop Faro. Among 
the documents which entered into his narrative was a text 

Oerm, Hist., Concilia n, p. 581 (canon 35). Similar decrees had 
already been voted on German territory by the councils of Salzburg 
(SOOy and Mayence (813). See Mon, Germ, Hist,, o. c. n, p. 211, 
no. 34, p. 272, no. 48. 

* . . de . . obscenis turpibusque canticis omnibus Christianis 
intellegendum et observandum est. Mon, Chrm, Hist., o. c. n, p. 
670, 11. 16, 17. 

'Mon, Qerm, Hist,, Concilia ii, p. 276, no. 9, p. 287, no. 7» 
p. 636, no. 38. Cf. Capitularia i, p. 334, no. 8. 

* Ne in illo sancto 6\e vanis f abuUs aut locutionibus sive can* 
tationibus vel saltationibus, stando in biviis et plateis, ut solent, 
inserviant; illas vero ballationes et saltationes canticaque turpia 
ac luxuriosa et ilia lusa diabolica non faciat, nee in plateis nee 
in domibus neque in lidlo loco, quia haec de paganorum consuetudine 
reinanserunt. Cited by Gr5ber {Orundriss i, p. 261) from Baluze, 
Capitularia Regum Frwnoorum i, p. 967 (958). Migne extends this 
prohibition to other holy days: "Et in eisdem Sanctis diebus, 
nee in plateis, nee in domibus, cantica turpia vel luxuriosa, 
saltationes, vel lusa faciant diabolica" (o. o, cxxi, 772, no. 114). 

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that told of Chilothar'g victory over the SasoiDa and the 
popular rejoicing which it occasioned^ the so-called song 
of St. Faro: " Ex qua victori-a carmen publicum juxta 
rustic! tatem per onmium paene volitabat ora ita canentium^ 
feminaeque chores inde plaudendo componebant." * 

Other information regarding French popidar poetry, 
which may be found in ninth century documents, in- 
cludes a capitulary of a diocesan convention said to have 
been held at Eheims in 852, under Archbishop Hincmar 
(f882), which orders priests to refrain from imseemly 
conduct and singing on anniversaries.^ In the Loire 
valley again, a capitulary of Walter, who was bishop of 

'P. Rajna, he Origini delV Epopea Franome, pp. 117-199. Of. 
Bevue des l&ngues romanea u, p. 49 ff. Whatever the origin of this 
''carmen/' Gal'lo-Roman or Burgundian, or whoever may be the 
author of the Vita 8. Faronis, the evidence drawn Irom the biography 
is wholly pertinent. It shows that at the time it was written, 
probably the ninth century, women accompanied their dances 
with song. It is to be noticed that this particular song does not 
bear the usual title of oantioufnf but the more dignified one 
of cannen, dignified yet unusual, as applied to vernacular poetry. 
It will be recalled that Alcuin had used the same term in 
designating the songs sung at the monks' meals by a zither player. 
Comparing these two appearances of the word, practically contem- 
poraneous with each other, with Eginhard's celebrated phrase in 
reference to Charlemagne's activity in preserving German poetry: 
" Item barbara et antiquissima carmina, quibus veterum regum 
actus et bella canebantur, scripsit memoriaeque mandavit," may 
we not assume that in the song of St. Faro we see a nobler 
grade of popular minstrelsy than canticum would indicate? At 
all events the circumstances disclosed by the account in St. Faro's 
life recall those dance songs with which the Roman boys celebrated 
Aurelian's exploits. (See page 283). 

* Ut nullus presbyterorum ad anniversariam diem . . . nee plausus 
et risus inoonditos et fabulas inanes ibi referre aut cantare 
praesiunat. . . Migne, o. c. cxxv, 776--quoted by Gr((ber, Cfrundriaa 
n, p. 447, n. 1. 


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300 F. M. WABBEN 

Orleans from 869 to about 892, also attempts to regulate 
cleidoal maimers on the same oocasiond.^ The ninth cen- 
tury glossaries that are usually assigned to France or Ger- 
many define chorus as " coevorum cantus et saltatio," cho- 
ros as " saltationes," chorea (ms. from a Gterman monas- 
tery) as " saltatio cum cantilena classium concinnentium," 
and choreis as " ballationibus." ^ Nor should a poem in 
octosyllabic monorime quatrains, which was prompted by 
the destruction of the monastery of Mont Glonne (St. 
Florent-le-Vieil), near Angers, in 848-850, and where 
the nightingale is invoked to utter songs, be omitted 
from this enumeration,^ nor perhaps also the capitulary 
of Benedict Levita, whose collection of forgeries dates 
from about 850 and was possibly compiled under Hincmar, 
in the diocese of Eheims.* 

^ Si quando autem in cujuslibet anniversario ad prandium 
presbyteri invltantur, cum omni pudicitia et sobrietate a procaci 
loquacitate et rusticis oantilenis caveant. Nee saltatrices in modum 
filiae Herodiadis coram se turpes facere ludos permittant. Mansi, 
o. c. XV, 507, cited by GrSber, I. c, n. 2. Notice that the " cantilenae " 
are not connected with dance movements. They are eimply rustic 
songs. Also the Salome dances are not accompanied by singing 
but by coarse gestures. They appear to be danced by professionals. 
' Corpus Olosa. Lat. v, pp. 351, 445, and pp. 362, 633. Cf. Isidore 
of Seville on page 295. 

■E. Dttmmler, Poetae Latini Aevi CaroUni n. The third strophe 

Gravis det organum tuba; 

Alte resultet fistula; 

Omnis canat armonia; 

Det philomela cantica. — p. 147. 

* Benedict Levita, or the monk who assumed this name, pretended 
to be a resident of Mayence, but is supposed to have lived in 
the east of France. Whatever his sources, real or spurious, he 
must have written pertinently to his environment. So his capitulary 

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Shortly after the ninth century had drawn to a close, 
in the diocese of Trier, a district bordering on French 
territory, Eegino, who had been abbot of Priim from 
892 to 899, and who was now abbot of Trier (fSlS)? 
was putting together a body of canons and decrees relating 
to the duties and conduct of the clergy. In this treatise, 
entitled De Ecclesiasticis Disciplinis, among many rules 
and directions, are found some of the injunctions con- 
cerning the participation of priests in popular festivities 
which we have already cited, together with others, not 
hitherto noticed, but which date from the ninth century 
or before, and whose nationality is uncertain. Among 
the latter is a canon which prescribes to the bishop : " Si 
plebem admoneat ut in atrio ecclesiae nequaquam cantent, 
atut chores mulierum ducant, sed ecclesiam ingredientes 
verbum Dei cum silentio audiant" ^ Another orders that 
on Rogation Days : " Nequaquam mulierculae choreas 
[choros?] ducant, sed onmes in commune Kyrie tleison 
decantent." ^ And in the decade in which Eegino was 
making his compilation, the council of Troyes (909) in 
Champagne was embodying in a canon directed against 

on the observance of Sunday and saints' days is to the point in 
our discussion, and in its tenor confirms the ideas presented by 
the capitulary of his contemporary, H^rard of Tours. It says: 
"Quando popuihis ad ecclesiae venerit tam per dies dominicoe quam 
et per sollemnitates eanctorum, aliud non ibi agat nisi quod ad 
Dei pertinet servitium. Illas vero balationes et saltationes canticaque 
turpia ac luxuriosa, et ilia lusa diabolica non faciat nee in plateis 
nee in domibus neque in ullo loco; quia haec de paganorum 
oonsuetudine remanserunt." Mon. Germ. Hist,, Legum n" (1837, 
folio), p. 83 (no. 196). See page 298, note 3. The same canon? 
' Migne, o. c, cxxxn, 190, 243. The second is assigned by Burchard 
of Worms, in his Decretorum lihri owp, to some Orleans council. 
See Migne, o. c. oxl, 886 (canon 7). 

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302 F. M. WABBBN 

the observance of Pagan practioee a denunciation of wan- 
ton ©ongs: "turpda necnon cantica," borrowed from a 
former oouncil held at distant Ancyra,* 

With the injunctions of the council of Troyes the 
records of popular song and dance on French soil cease 
for a whole century. When they begin again the situation 
has greatly altered, for Romance poetry has been consigned 
at last to manuscripts. Because of this long silence and 
the changes which intervene, a summary of what has 
already been learned may not be inopportune. As to the 
terms by which the early medievalists designate the songs 
there is no particular deviation from the usage of the 
classical vTriters, We still meet carmen, cantilena and 
canticum, while cantio seems to have been expanded to 
cantatio. Carmen, apart from its application to poetry 
formed on classical models, is practically limited to incan- 
tation, or heroic soaig. It meant " incantation " in the can- 
on of the council of Aries which we quoted from Burchard 
of Worms. It means " incantation " in another canon of 
Burchard's, where the cowherd or hunter " dicat diabolica 
carmina super panem, aut super herbas . .'V ^^^ it means 
" incantation " in the phrase " carmina diabolica, quae 
noctumis horis vulgus f acere solet," which appears in the 
so-called Sermo Synodalis, attributed to Pope Leo IV 

^Migne, o. o. cxxxn^ 715 C. — ^It is aleo possible that Benott 
de Sainte-More has reliable authority for the lines in his 
Chronique dea duos de Normandie (about 1172), when he adds 
to an account of the cowardice of Ebles of Poitou during a Norman 
invasion of 911 (furnished him by a known Latin chronicler) the 
statement that the French sang satirical ditties at Ebles' expense: 

Vers en firent e estraboz 

U out asses de vilains moz. — ^11. 5911, 5912. 

*Migne, o. c. czl, 836; Deoretorum lihri aa, Book z, canon 18. 

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(S47-about 855).^ On the other hand, we have seen that 
Alcuin, Eginhard and the author of the Vita 8. Faronis 
gave it a nobler aignifioation in their ^^ carmina gentil- 
ium," " antiquissima carmina/^ and " carmen publicum.^' 

Cantilena^ when not a name for a church hjmn^ is 
infrequent. Indeed we do not find it in our references 
from Isidore's gloss for choreas to the " rusticis cantilenis " 
of Walter of Orleans. But there can be no doubt as 
to Walter's meaning, without support as it is ait this 
period. The people of his diocese sang songs in the ver- 
nacular, songs which he, at least, considered both inartistic 
and unworthy of the priestly calling. 

Cantatio appears three times, though not before the 
eighth century. It is used by the council of Rome of 
about 743, by Pirminius and by Herard of Tours. In 
these cases it indicates a song which accompanies a dance. ^ 

But the ordinary word to designate the popular lyric 
is still canticum. Canticum means, now the oral expres- 
sion of the danoe, as in Hilary of Poitiers, Venantius 
Fortunatue, and the council of Chalons, now a song inde- 
pendent of danoe movements, whether a church hymn 
(Venantius), any secular song (Council of Frejus), or 
«m out-and-out coarse screed (Council of Paris of 829).* 

^Migne, o. c. cxv, 681. — ^But in the anonymous life of Si. Ouen, 
BomeiimeB ascribed to Frithegod of Canterbury (Xc.)) carmen 
means an erotic eong: "In quorum domo, non ut assolet in 
quorumdam eecularium eonviviis, mimorum, atque hystrionum car- 
mina foeda . . .*' Ada Sanctorum xxxvni, August. lY, 810 F. 

'The same relation may be inferred for the " cantionibus " of 
Amobius Afer's treatise. See page 286 note 1. 

' Compare the " canticum turpe atque luxuriosum " of the 
Mayence council of 813 {Mon, Oerm. HUt,, Concilia n, p. 272, 
U. 0, 10). Examples of this sort of lyric in later verse occur 
to us at once, especially a certain notorious poem of William IX. 

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304 F. M. WABSEir 

From all of which the oonclusion follows that canticunh 
may stand for a song by which dance movements are timed, 
or any lyric which does not aspire to the dignity of 
literature, unless it definitely means a church hymn. The 
occasions on which these lyrics of the crowd were sung 
are clearly specified, and the places where they were per- 
formed are generally mentioned. The canons forbid them 
in the neighborhood of churches at all times. They should 
not be tolerated anywhere on feast days and Sundays. 
The clei^ should not countenance them on any day, 
even though it might be a family anniversary. From all 
these admonitions it is evident that these songs, whether 
so qualified or not, were coarse as a rule. In a number 
of instances, especially when they are connected with 
dancing, they are regarded as survivals of heathen customs. 

But it is not safe to assume that the church authorities 
always associated the popular lyric with Paganism and 
superstition. For the old heathen festivals are rarely 
mentioned. The life of St. Eloi of Noyon (seventh cen- 
tury) speaks of May,^ and the council of Eome, of 743, 
specifies the January Calends.* Yet with the exception 
of occasional allusions annual holidays do not come into 

^Nullus diem JoTis absque Sanctis feetivitatibus nee in Madio 
nee ullo tempore in otio observet. 0. c, p. 706. See note 1, 
page 295. 

'Ut nullus Kalendas Januarias et bromas ritu paganonim colere 
praesumat. . . 0. c, p. 15. The Roman observance of the January 
Calends by singing and dancing is confirmed by a letter written 
to Pope Zacharias by Boniface of Mayence in 742: " Sicut adfirmant: 
se vidisse annis singulis in Romana urbe et juxta aecclesiam sancti 
Petri in die vel nocte, quando Kalende Januarii intrant, pagan- 
orum consuetudine chorus ducere per plateas et adclamationes rita 
gentilium et (in-)cantatione8 sacriiegas oelebrare. . . ." Mon. 
Germ. Hist., Epist m, p. 301. U. 11-14. Quoted by GrOber, Zwr 
Volkskunde aus ConoilhesohlUMen und Capitularien, paragraph 9. 

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queetion. The oommands are rather to keep Simdeys and 
eaints' days inviolate at all times. So if we may safely 
conclude that the poetry of the people was erotic in the 
main, we are not warranted by documentary evidence in 
supposing that it was called out by any special festival, 
or that it flourished at one season of the year more than 
at another. 

Admitting then that the songs and dances of the people 
were not confined to any particular occasion or to any 
one time of the year, but played a leading part in the 
merry-making of all church holidays and of every family 
festival, the absence of any reference to them from the 
documents of almost the entire tenth century cannot be 
other than most surprising. For it was during the tenth 
century that the vernacular was making steady gains on 
the literary language. At its end the King of France 
could no longer understand Latin, and assemblies of the 
church even were addressed in the mother tongue. How 
French and Provencal unfolded and developed we do not 
know. The process was veiled in silence. Already before 
the year 900 the French hymn on Saint Eulalia offers 
indubitaible proof of the esteem in which the modem idiom 
was held by certain individuals of the educated class. 
And three generations later the wholly Eomanoe poems 
of Saint Leger and the Passion assert the claims of the 
popular speech to a place in medieval literature. But for 
the long period which intervenes between these mani- 
festations of the capacity of French and Provencal there 
are neither texts nor allusions. Yet it is a period which 
should have been most prolific of mention in the records. 
We may surmise that the poetry of the cross-roads and 
market-place, at least, had deepened in the meanwhile and 

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306 F. M. WABXKN 

broadened, ithat it had been subjected to the refining in- 
fluence of dingers trained in the schools of the monks or 
rhymsters of native taste and talent. StiU we can only 
surmise. At one of the most important epochs in the 
development of modem literature we are left to conjecture 
alone. Neither canons nor chronicles give us any light. 
The popular lyric is neither praised nor blamed.* 

^It ifl also notioeable that little help oomes from abroad at 
this time. Towards the middle of the century some ordinances 
of the English kings forbid heathen songs at funerals and on holy 
days. They also forbid tree and fountain worship and the practice 
of incantations. See canon 1 of Edgar, of 960 (against "prophana 
cantica"), in Mansi, o. c. xym, p. 615, no. 18; xix, p. 69, no. 54. 
In Germany, about the year 973, Widukind was writing an account 
of the battle of Heresburg, fought a half-century earlier, where 
"tanta caede Francos mulctati sunt, ut a mimis declamaretur " 
{Mon. Germ. Hist., Scriptorum in, p. 428, U. 17, 18). — ^More 
significant, because it comes from Romance, though not French, 
territory, and because it supplies interesting details, is what we 
gather from sermons of Atto, bishop of Vercelii, in North Italy, 
from 924 to 961. In sermon m he alludes to Pagan rites at the 
January and March calends. In sermon ix he says that God should 
be praised: "non aereis cymbalis, non canticulis platearum," and 
people should rejoice not "in epithalamiis et cantilenis, ut mimi; 
aon in saltationibus et circo, ut histriones vel idolorum cultores.*' 
For what is worse for old men and youths "quam stupra virginum 
et libidines meretricum turpi gestu et blanda voce cantare. . . T" 
In eermon xm, on the festival of Saint John the Baptist, he 
bewails that in many places "quaedam meretriculae ecclesias et 
divina officia derelinquant, et passim per plateas et compita, fontes 
etiam et rura pemoctantes, choros statuant, canticula eompo- 
nant . .'* Migne, o. o. CKXxrv, 836, 844, 860.— The St. Martiai's 
version of the Latin poem Jam duloia amiodt, venitOy which dates 
from the last half of the tenth century and which may have been 
composed in France, contains a strophe where ''cantica" appears 
instead of the "carmina" of the Viennese version: 

Ibi sonant dulces harmoniae {Vien. aymphoniae), 
Inflantur et altius tibiae. 

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The reasonfl which may be adduced for this neglect and 
silence are also conjectural. It might be urged that the 
weakening of ecclesiastical authority, coincident with the 
decline of the power of the king and the rise of f eudalism, 
worked against the convening of church councils, from 
which a large part of our information has come. It could 
be argued that the decay of Latin literature, following on 
its great renaissance under Charlemagne and his imme- 
diate successors, is responsible for the paucity of compo- 
sition in Latin of any sort. And Latin alone could obtain 
the right of preservation by manuscript. Or we might 
assume that the grouping of people^ into different nation- 
alities, which was one of the results of the dismemberment 
of the Carolingian empire, would arouse a spirit of patriot- 
ism that would prompt the new chiefs to foster the use 
of the vernacular in their immediate circle, and perhaps 
encourage the poets who were dependent upon them to 
cultivate the rude poesy of their fellow-countrymen. Such 
a state of affairs, possible in the greater duchies at least, 
would explain why decrees and capitularies no longer 
contained censures of popular songs. ^ 

Ibi puer et docta puella 
Gantant tibi oantioa pulohra 
{Vien. Pangunt tibi oarmina bella). 

Dreves, Analeota HymtUoa xi, no. 91. 

Of. t, du M^ril, PoMea pop. lat. du moyen Age, pp. 190, 197. 

* Could we determine the language UBed by the "Franoigenis 
poetis/' who accompanied Charles the Bald into Italy (see Johannes' 
Coena Cypriani (876 or 877), published by t, du M6ril in his 
PoMes populaireM latines ontMeurea au moyen Age (p. 200), we 
might approach a solution of this interesting question. For they 
may hare composed in French or Provencal. Some verses by 
Paschasius Radbert, abbot of Corbie (Somme) from 844 to 851, 

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308 F. M. WABBBN 

Now all of these causes may have contributed, each its 
quota, to the attitude of silence which the Latin writers 
of the tenth century maintain towards folk poetry on 
French and Provencal soil. The most probable cause, 
however, still remains to be stated. The raids of the 
Normans, Saracens and Huns into France and Provence 
during the first half of this century left their populations 
very little opportunity for literary pursuits. Their very 
physical existence was too often imperiled. Art, in all 
its various relations to life, fled before the invader, nor 
did it return until the foreign foe was driven badk and 
internal peace was assured by the alliance of the native 
princes. We leam from the records of the eleventh and 
twelfth centuries — and again from the fifteenth and six- 
teenth — that literature in the vernacular developed only 
under the «ame inspiration that revived literature in the 
classical tongues. The disturbed condition of the valleys 
of the Loire and Seine at this period of their history did 
not encourage composition in Latin. The growth of the 
duchies of France, Aquitania and Normandy, and the 
treaties they made with each other, allowed the clerks to 
respond again to the claims of authorship. The ver- 
nacular poets would imitate their example. But of their 
activity we have no certain knowledge. When the accents 

afterwards resident at St. Riquier, near AbbeviUe ( t 865 )» suggest 
literary compoeitionB in the yemacular. Radbert hopes that the 
praises of Abbot Adalhart of Corbie (t 826) may be Tarionsly 
voiced by the clerks: 

Rustica oonoelebret Romana Latinaque lingua, 
iSaxo quibus pariter plangens pro carmine dicat. 

E. DQmmler, Poetae Lai. Aevi CaroUni m, p. 46. 

Some fifty years later, not far from Oorbie, Bainte BulaUe wbm 

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of the rustic miide become once more audible, commerce 
bae stationed its marts along the central bigbwajs, tbe 
great pilgrimages of Santiago, Eome and Jerusalem are 
flowing witb full tide, Gerbert bas taugbt at Kbeims, Ful- 
bert is teaching at Cbartres, William tbe Great of Aqui- 
tania is fostering tbe love of letters, and Hugb Capet bas 
founded tbe kingdom of France. 

Still in whatever way tbe absence of information about 
popular poetry in tbe tenth century may be explained, by 
tbe conditions we have mentioned or otherwise, there is 
no doubt that during these hundred years it gained in 
thought and form. Tbe difference between tbe language 
and strophe of Sainte Eulalie, at tbe end of tbe ninth 
century, and Saint Leger and tbe Passion, at tbe end 
of tbe tenth, is considerable. But still more striking is 
the progress evinced by Boece over Saint Leger and tbe 
Passion, its predecessors by a generation only. Tbe author 
of Boece must have patterned bis verse and iliytbm on 
vernacular models already existing, since tbe Latin poetry 
of his day does not supply them. Such an advance in 
style and conception shows interest on tbe part of tbe 
educated clerks, and probably tbe local rulers also. They 
bad begun to consider tbe literary possibilities of tbe 
mother tongue. The clerks bad wrought on it and had 
reached in the decasyllabic laissey at least, one excellent 
fixed form of versification. Consequently we may safely 
consider the Boece as representing tbe vernacular poetry 
of its day, a survivor of many fellows, though perhaps 
the most meritorious. We might also assume that William 
tbe Great of Aquitania, in whose lands Boece was written, 
found among the numerous rewards which be bestowed 
on Latin poets eome prizes witb which to gratify their 
humbler Provencal colleagues. 

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310 F. M. WABSBN 

Because of this development of Ppoveii<jal verse the 
church must have become indulgent to the songs of the 
people. And the account of its dealings with them, which 
Bernard of Angers has transmitted to us, would confirm 
this opinion. Bernard, who had been a pupil of Fulbert 
at Chartres, and was now head of the cathedral school 
at Angers, had heard of the wonderful cures made by 
the relics of Saint Fides, in their final resting-place at 
Conques (Aveyron). His devout curiosity prompted him 
to verify the reports with his own eyes. Between 1010 
and 1020 he went on three distinct pilgrimages to the 
shrine, and after the third he set himself «to chronicle his 
experience. At Saint Fides', as elsewhere, the pilgrims 
watched the night through in church or chapel. To while 
away the time, and to edify as well, the clergy would 
lead in chanting psalms and singing hymns. This service 
could be shared by the educated palmers and presumably 
by the unlettered of unusual piety. But these two classes 
must have constituted a small minority of the congregation. 
The larger number could neither read nor understand 
the Latin office, and the hours of vigil grew long for 
them. So they tried to shorten them as best they could. 
" Horum vero ignari,'^ to quote Bernard, " tam cantilenia 
rusticis quam aliis nugis longe noctis solantur fastidium."* 

The monks were scandalized by this irreverence and 
assembled to devise a way of cfhecking it. They had 
not gone far in their deliberations when their abbot, 
intervening, told them of similar efforts which had been 
made before. One of his predecessors, he said, had had 
the fortitude to exclude the ignorant crowd and its songs 

^On p. 120 of edition cited below. 

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from the vigils entirely (before 980).* For a while this 
measure availecL The vigils wore kept orderly and with 
decency. But one nig'ht, when a greater concourse than 
usual had gathered before the church and had been denied 
admission, the fastenings of the doors unloosened of 
themselves, the multitude entered, and the monks, who 
had been sleeping in ignorance of the miracle, found the 
aisles so thronged when they were called to matins, that 
they could reach their stalls only with the greatest diflS- 
culty. Thus it was manifest that all pure utterances 
of the pious heart, even those which are wholly secular, 
are acceptable to God, who judges not the words but 
the intention.^ And the good aJbbot concluded that the 
people should sing the songs^ they knew, not at all because 
the unpolished lyric was itself a pleasing offering, but 
because back of it was the earnest soul which worshipped 
in spirit and in truth.® 

The popular lyric then, the " cantilenae rusticae," of 
the turn of the tenth-eleventh centuries, knew the decent 
"cantilena" (" innocens"), however inartistic (" incom- 
positas cantationes ") or trivial (" inepta cantica") its 

' . . cum seniores hujus loci . . ineptum hunc tumultum, feralesque 
rusticanonim vociferationes atque incompoeitae cantationes compe- 
socre neqtiivifldeiit . . . Liher Miraculorwn Sanotae Fidis n, c. 12. 
(In the edition, by A. Bouillet, of the ''Collection de teztes pour 
servir H T^tude et a renseignement de rhistoire," the story of the 
vigils and songs is given on pp. 120-122). 

'. . . satis pro simplicitate illorum innocens cantilena, licet 
rustica, utoumque tolerari potest . . non tamen ea oantilena Deus 
gaudere credendus sit, etc. L. o., p. 121. 

' Sic quoque idem permittit et his quae sapiunt oantare . . Tamen 
ne putet aliquis hisce assertionibus me velle id concludere ut 
Deus pure simpliciterque haec eadem velit, cum sint rustica et 
inepta cantica, etc. L. o., p. 122. 

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312 F. M. WABSEN 

comitositions may have been. And this is exactly the 
situation which eonld have been imagined. Side by side 
with the " canticum turpe '' stood the harmless song of 
merry-making. The councils of the church would 
denounce the one without disclosing the existence of the 
other. And this inference may be true without impugning 
the object of the capitulary of Walter of Orleans, cited 
above, ^ where the clergy are warned against the " rustic 
songs " of anniversary banquets. For on such occasions 
it is quite probable that the coarse "cantilenae " out- 
balanced the innocent. 

It is also clear from Bernard's description that the 
rustic songs of his day were not confined to melodies which 
accompanied the dance. We have already assumed as 
much from the statements made by the writers of "the 
Carolingian period. Bernard's narrative proves it beyond 
a doubt. There could not have been dance movements in 
a crowded church. From all the evidence we have found, 
it would seem that dance songs were as a rule coarse in 
eixpression. Undoubtedly songs not connected with dancing 
were often objectionable. But Bernard did not consider 
those he had heard at Saint Fides' low in tone. He calls 
them rough, inartistic, inane. His opinion probably 
represents the opinion of the Latinists of his day. As 
we know, it continued to be the general opinion of the 
educated men of the Middle Ages. For them Latin 
composition alone could claim both form and content. 
And at the dawn of the eleventh century it is more than 
likely that this judgment was just, however much it 
may have erred later on. As yet Provencal verse could 
have hardly attained that elegance of style which has 

^Page 300, note 1. 

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remained its predominant characteriatic. Under William 
the Great it was surely forming itself. But the process 
was by no means complete. Two more generations of 
a Latinity which steadily grew better, and two more 
generations of court life in France and Aquitania, with 
constantly increasing refinemenrt;, were needed. When 
they had done their work William IX of Poitou coidd 
rightly pride himself on his art.^ 

Unfortunately for our knowledge of the subject, 
Bernard's testimony regarding the existence and nature 
of vernacular lyric poetry is not seconded by any of his 
contemporaries. His tolerance stands alone. For during 
the very decade when Bernard was going on his pil- 
grimages, at Worms, in Germany, Bishop Burchard was 
revising the body of decretals and canon law. And 
among the ordinances he selected which should regulate 
the attitude of the clergy towards thfe songs of the people, 
there is none which is not unfriendly to them. Burchard 
may have had the best of reasons for his choice. The 
councils of the church had constantly assailed folk poesy, 
and Burchard was only a oodifier. Besides, while he 
was perhaps still engaged in his compilation, there was 
being danced at Kolbigk, in the center of Germany, the 
fatal round which was to live on in fame, and which 
alone of all the dances of the earlier Middle Ages has 
echoed to us the rhythm by which its beat was timed : 

^Ben voill que sapchon li pluzor 

Un verset de bona color 

Qu'eu ai trait de mon obrador, 
< Qu'eu port d'aioel mestier la flor. 

— ^Bartsch, Ohrestomathie provenoale, i, 1-4. 

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314 F. M. WABBEN 

Equitabat Bovo per tilvam f rondoaam, 
Duoebat aibi Merswinden formoaain. 
Quid stamuAt cur non imust^ 

Had Burchard knowledge of this great transgression, 
the utter condemnation of popular poetry brought down 
to him by the unbroken current of ecclesiastical tradition 
would certainly be passed on indorsed with his most 
unqualified approval. 

F. M. Waebbn. 

*Cf. B. Schroeder, Z^iisohrifi fUr Kirchengeachiohte xvn (1807), 
pp. 04-164. 

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In the legend of St. Cecilia, not only as the Second Nun 
tells it, but also as it appears in the Legenda aurea and in 
Simeon Metaphrastes, an angel gives to Cecilia and Valerian 
(as everybody knows) two crowns : 

Valerian goth hoom, and fint Cecil ie 
With-inne his chambre with an angel stonde ; 
This angel hadde of roses and of lilie 
Corones two, the which he bar in honde ; 
And first to Cecile, as I understonde, 
He yaf that oon, and after gan he take 
That other to Valerian, hir make. 

* With body dene and with unwemmed thoght 
Kepeth ay wel thise corones ' qnod he ; 

* Fro Paradjs to yow have I hem broght, 
Ne never-mo ne shal they roten be, 
Ne lese her sote savour, trusteth me ; 

Ne never wight shal seen hem with his ye, 
But he be chaast and hate vileinye.' 

These crowns are described again when Valerian's brother 
Tiburce, converted in answer to Valerian's prayer, appears 
upon the scene, and smells the fragrance of the roses and 
the lilies : 

And whan that he the savour undemom 
Which that the roses and the lilies caste, 
With-inne his herte he gan to wondre faste, 

And seyde, * I wondre, tliis tyme of the yeer, 

Whennes that sote savour cometh so 

Of rose and lilies that I smelle heer. 

For though I hadde hem in myne hondes two. 

The savour mighte in me no deeper go. 

The sote smel tliat in myn herte I finde 

Hath chaunged me al in another kinde.' 

'Q. 218-231. 

6 315 

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Valerian seyde, * Two oorones han we, 
Snow-whjte and rose-reed, that shynen clere, 
Which that thyne yen han no might to see ; 
And as thou smellest hem thurgh my prejere, 
So shaltow seen hem, leve brother dere, 
If it so be thou wolt, withouten slouthe, 
Bileve aright and knowen verray trouthe.' ^ 

One feels that the roses and lilies are intended to be defi- 
nitely symbolic, and that the symbolism must have some 
organic relation to the story. But what the ulterior signifi- 
cance of the flowers is does not plainly appear. Even the 
explanation which Chaucer, following the Legenda aureUj 
actually offers, does not seem wholly to explain : 

And of the miracle of thise corones tweje 
Seint Ambrose in his preface list to seje ; 
Solempnely this noble doctour dere 
Gommendeth it, and seith in thb manere : 

The palm of martirdom for to receyve, 

Seint Cecile, fulfild of goddes yifte, 

The world and eek hir chambre gan she wey ve ; 

Witnes Tyburces and Valerians shrifte. 

To whiche god of his bountee wolde shifte 

Corones two of floures wel smellinge, 

And made his angel hem the corones bringe : 

The roayde hath broght thise men to blisse above ; 
The world hath wist what it is worth, certeyn, 
Devocioun of chastitee to love.' 

One still asks : Why are roses and lilies chosen as the com- 
ponents of the crowns? 

Professor Skeat ^ refers us to Mrs. Jameson : " White and 
red roses expressed love and innocence, or love and wisdom, 
as in the garland with which the angels crown St. Cecilia." * 

1 G. 243-259. * G. 270-83. 

» Ojf<yrd Chaucer, V, 402, under 1. 27. 

* Sacred and Legendary Art, Introduc., f V, "Of the significance of 

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THE "CX)BONE8 TWO*' 317 

" Redy^ Professor Skeat goes on, " was the symbol of love, 
divine fervour, etc. ; whiUy of light, purity, innocence, 
virginity." But Mrs. Jameson seems to be quite unaware 
of the existence of the lilies in the crowns,^ and her symbol- 
ism, as well as that of Professor Skeat, is wholly beside the 
point. As a matter of fact, the real symbolism is perfectly 
demonstrable : it must have been patent to every mediseval 
reader of the story ; and it focuses in itself the essential 
significance of the legend. 

In the ritual of the Roman Church the saints are grouped 
under the four orders of Apostles, Martyrs, Confessors, and 
Virgins. The Litany itself, of course, affords a conspicuous 
instance of this grouping.' But the same distinction per- 
vades the entire ritual. In the Order for Administering the 
Sacrament of Extreme Unction, the act of anointing is 
accompanied ^^ per invocationem omnium Sanctorum, Ange- 
lorum, Archangelorum, Patriarcharura, Prophetarum, Apos- 
tolorumy Martyrum, Confeaaorvmy Virginum" * In the 
Order for the Baptism of an Adult, one of the prayers 
begins : " Deus coeli, Deus terrae, Deus Angelorum, Deus 
Archangelorum, Deus Patriarcharum, Deus Prophetarum, 
Deus Apostolonmiy Deus Martyrum, Deus Oonfessorumy Deus 
VirginumJ^^ In the Laurentian Litany of the Virgin, 

'See also her discusBion of the legend of St. Cecilia in her second 

^Bitwde Bamanum^ Tit V, cap. 3. The names of the apostles are 
followed by the words : *' Omnes sancti ApostoH et Evangelistae, orate pro 
nobis ; '' the names of Saints Stephen, Laurence, Vincent, Fabian and 
Sebastian, John and Paul, Cosmas ar.d Damian, Gervase and Protasus by 
the words : ** Omnes sancti Martyresy orate pro nobis ; '' the names of Saints 
Silvester, Gregory, Ambrose, Augustine, Jerome, Martin and Nicholas, by 
the words :_ " Omnes sancti Pontifices et Canfesaores, orate pro nobis ; " the 
names of Saints Mary Magdalen, Agatha, Lucia, Agnes, Cecilia, Katha- 
rine, and Anastasia, by the words: ** Omnes Sanctae Fir^'ne* et Viduae, 
orate pro nobis.'* 

^Bituale Bovnanunif Tit V, cap. 2, 7. 

*Id.y Tit n, cap. 4,25. 

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Mary is invoked as " Regina Apodolorumy Regina Marty rumy 
Regina Oonfesaorumy Regina Virginum^^ — as in the Litany 
of the Sacred Name of Jesus^ Jesus is called upon as 
" magister Apostolorum, fortitudo Martyimm, lumen OonfeS" 
sorurtiy puritas Virginumy The distinction, especially in the 
case of Martyrs, Confessors and Virgins, is obviously one 
with which both Chaucer and his contemporary readers 
would be thoroughly familiar.* 

Now among the Sermones aurei ' of Jacobus de Voragine 
is a series "De praecipuis Sanctorum festis,** or, as it is 
elsewhere phrased, "De Sanctis per anni totius circulum 
concurrentibus." Among these are three sermons "De 
Sancta Caecilia, Virgine et Martyred' The first paragraph 
of the second of these is as follows : 

' I have cited examples as fully as I have because the Missali the Breviary, 
and the Ritual are often, even to scholars, more or less a terra inoognitcu 

' £d. Clutius, 1760. References to the orders just named are of course 
numerous in the Sermonea, In the third sermon on St Ambrose, among 
the members of the mystical body of Christ, the eyes, hands, ears and 
nostrils are assigned to the Apostles, Martyrs, Confessors and Virgins 
respectively: "Nam oculi aunt Aposioliy totum mundum illuminantes ; 
manus sunt Martyres in hello Dei fortiter laborantes ; aures sunt Oonfesaores 
Dei praeceptis obedientes: nares sunt Virgine^j puritatis odorem spirantes " 
(u, 153). In the second sermon on the Assumption of the Virgin, the 
twelve stars of the crown are the nine orders of angels, and the three orders 
of saints, "scilicet Martyrett^ Confeseores, et Virginesy qui omnes ipsam 
coronant, quia eam venerantur et laudant '' (n, 251). Each order praises 
a special virtue of the B. V. — ^^MartyrtB tantam in tribulationibus constan- 
ti&m. Oonfetaorts tantam sobrietatem et temperantiam. Virgines tantam 
puritatem et munditiam'' (n, 251). Compare the third sermon on All 
Saints (it, 33S), and the sermon De Nomine S. Mariae {Serm, aurei de 
laudibus Deiparaa VirginiSf p. 8S). Certain qualities are ascribed to the 
different orders : " Zelus Apostohrwrn, constantia Martyrum^ sobrietas Cbn- 
/eMaorum^ et puritas Virginumf sive castitas '' (De Laudibus Deiparatf p. 19 ; 
cf. p. 117). Compare in general De Laudibus Dtiparae^ pp. 12, 16, 48, 
etc The same distinctions underlie the Solemnity of All Hallows, in the 
Oolden Legend, 

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Malier diligens, oorooa est viro suo. S. Cseoelia fuit diligens, qui^ 
diligeoter Deo seryivit ; et fait corona sibi, et yiro sac. Sibi qaia corooam 
martyrii aoqaisivit, Tiro sao, quia ipsum ad fidem convertit, et ad coronam 
martjrii animavit. Hinc est quod Angelas duaii coronas de liliis et rosis 
attolit, et anam sibi, alteram suo sponso dedit Per liliwn virginit€L8f et 
perroaaa martyrium dengnatur; per qaod significatur quod merito yirgini- 
tatis et martyrii debebant in coelestia gloria coronarL' 

The interpretation here given is perfectly explicit. It 
may^ however, be objected that this is merely Jacobus de 
Yoragine's individual allegorizing of the flowers of the 
crowns. But even a cursory reading of the Semumes aurei 
shows the symbolism to be of wider significance. The 
bee, for instance^ that alighted on the mouth of the 
infant St. Ambrose is explained (in part) aQ follows : 

Apis florem de diversis floribos colligit : In prato quidem celestis ^ 

Tiriditatis sant diversi flores, scilicet roeae Mariyrum, vioUu ConfeuwJn el ^<^/ 
lilia Vtrginwn, De rone Mariyrum oollegit florem constantiae et magnani- 
mitatis . . , De violie Oonfeeeorum collegit florem sobrietatis, quia quotidie, 
nisi in sabbato et die Domenicoi et festis praecipuis, jejnnabat. De liHU 
Virginum oollegit florem castitatiSi quia yiirginitatem perpetuam con- 

John the Baptist is called by six names : 

Ipse enim dictus est Patriarcba, Propheta, Angelas, Martyr, Oonfeseor et 
Virgo, £t ideo in coelo existens modo moratur in societate Patriaivbaram 
. . . modo inter roeaa Martyrum^ modo inter violas Ckn^eeeorvm, modo inter 
UHa Virginum,* 

St. Luke has place in four orders : 

Unde dicitur ubi sapra : Lacas inter Angelorum, et Apostolorum choros 
atque eandentium Virginum lilia, et tmmareeaeibiUe roeartan Mariyrum fioree 

In the sermon on the Assumption of the Virgin, after 

»n, 360. «n, 151. 

'n, 284, In 2>e Laadibue Deiparae, ^'rosa patientiae . . . viola bumil- 
itatis profundae, et lilium puritatis et munditiae" are again associated 
with Martyrs, Confessors and Virgins (p. 148). 

*n, 830. 

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enumerating the " septem choros/' three of the Old Testa- 
ment (Angels, Patriarchs and Prophets) and four of the New 
(Martyrs, Confessors, Virgins and Apostles), Jacobus con- 

De bta honorabili societate cantat Eoclesia : Sicut dies Terni circum- 
dabant earn flores rosarum et lilia convallium. Per flares roearum inidli' 
ffwUur omnea Martyres tanguine rubrieoH, Per Wia eonvcJlium inielliguntur 
omnet Angeli, Confessores et VirgineSy et etiam Apostoli, etc.^ 

But the ascription here of the lilies to Confessors and 
Apostles as well as to Virgins is exceptional. Even when 
the Confessors are represented (as sometimes happens) by 
frankincense instead of violets, the Martyrs and Virgins 
retain their characteristic flowers : 

Tertio habitatio celestis est sancta, id est, sacro usui deputata, et hoc 
qaantam ad se, quia est ad produoendum tomb Martyrtmi, et libanom 
odoriferam Gonfeflsonim, et liUa Virginum.* 

The allegorical significance, accordingly, of the roses and 
lilies is clear. They designate martyrdom and virginity, 
and even more explicitly they symbolize the orders of 
MaiiyrB and Virgins,^ 

^ n, 260. Thia interpretation is repeated in Dt Laudibui Deiparae, p. 12 : 
**FUfres romurvm Bumt ifartyret, LiUa eonvalUvm wnt Gonfeesores et Ftr- 

*De Laudibut Deiparaey p. 67. The "Libanom" is explained in a 
parallel passage in the Sermonea de Sanctis : ** quia deputata est ad proda- 
oendum rosas Martyram, Libanum, id e»t thus odoriferum Confessorum, et 
liHum Virginum" (n, 262). 

*A closely corresponding symbolism appears in the colors that are asso- 
ciated with the three orders of Martyrs, Confessors and Virgins. Bed be- 
longs to the Martyrs, white to the Virgins ; the color that symbolizes the 
Confessors tends to vary. A few examples will suffice : 

Ibi enim est color aureus Apostolomm, rubeus Martyrum, eaerttleue Cbn- 
Jenorum, albus Virginum (u, 263). 

Istam namque associant Apostoli cum vestibus deauratis, Mwrtyrts ettm 
vutibw purjnureis, Oofrfessores cum veatibus hyacirUhiniSf Virgines cum valibui 
eandidi${n, 337). 

Sancti enim sunt quaedam vestis B. Virginis, ipsam tauquam dominam 

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The roses and lilies^ then, of the two crowns enrol Cecilia 
and Valerian at once in the noble army of Martyrs and 
Virgins.^ And it is the emphasis upon their virginity and 
their martyrdom which constitutes the core of the Legend. 

et reginam adornantes. Quae qaidem vestis est multiplici varietate con- 
texta ; nam Apostoli ibi ponunt colorem aureom, Afartyres eolorem rubeumf 
Oonfesaorta eolorem indigum, Virgines el Angdi eolorem eandidum, (De 
Laudibus, p. 145). 

I add, as curiosities of interpretation, one or two other passages. Isaiah 
64, 11-12, is thus explained : 

Per lapides sculptos intelliguntur Martyres, qoi diversis vulneribus 
sont sculpti et valnerati. Per jaspidem qui est viridis coloris, intelliguntur 
Oonfeatorea^ qui fuerunt virides in conscieptia, et in vita. Per saphjros 
qui sunt ceelestis coloris intelliguntur VirgineSf quae vitam cselefltem et 
angelicam habuerunt (ii, 341). 
In the sermon on St. Dominic appears a quadriga of the stints : 

£t sunt in quadriga, id est quarta. In prima enim quadriga sunt equi 
rvfi, id est Ordo Martyrwn, In seconda sunt equi nigrif id est Ordo (hn- 
fesMTvmy qui se per macerationem denigraverunt. In tertia sunt equi albi^ 
id est Ordo Virginum (ii, 235). 

Moreover, the manj mansions of John 14, 2 (which Jacobus enumerates 
as oratorium, abriuMy eeUaritun^ ocmnstorium, eoenaeuhim, vindarium and 
eubieulum) are divided among the seven orders. The whole quaint passage 
deserves quotation ; there is space for the particularly pertinent lines 
alone : 

In ooenaculo ponuntur Martyre^ quia fuerunt tribulati, afflicti, ideo 
nunc plenissime saturantur. . . In viridario vero ponuntur Oofrfetsoretf qui 
sunt viridarium Dei ; in quibus fuit roia paiUntiae, lilium humilitaHs^ ei 
nola munditiae. In cubiculo autem ponuntur Vtrgvmu tanquam sponsae 
(n, 342). 

Space fails for further illustration. Enough has been given however, to 
show that the Sermo/fia de Sanctis are steeped in the symbolism that at- 
tached itself to the order^f the saints. 

' The story in Jacques oe Vitry, which Professor Skeat (Oxford Chaucer ^ 
y, 409, under 1. 271 ) refers to, is perfectly explicit in its interpretation of the 
roses. It is given in full in Crane, E/xem'pla (^ Jacques de Vitry (Folklore 
Soc., 1890), No. cccvii, p. 128. Professor Skeat quotes verbatim Pro- 
fessor Crane's synopsis (Crane, p. 268), but seems to have overlooked the 
pertinent passage in the story itself : ''At ille valde territus et compunctas 
caepit oogitare, quod Deus Christianorum ad martyrii roeas vellet et ipsum 
vocare," etc. 

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The gift of the crcmqus looks back to the one and forward 
to the other, and its, symbolism gathers up in itself the 
central and distinctiv^e significance of the narrative. It is 
clear that Chaucer him^lf so understood it. The last stanza 
of the Prologue, before the Invocatio ad Mai^iam, ends thus : 

I have heer dooo my feithfnl bisineflse, 
After the legeode, In tnnslacioan 
Right of thj gloriooB Ijf and paasioiin, 
Thoa with thj gerland wroght of ro$e and Ulie; 
Thee mene I, mayde and martirf seint Cedlie I * 

The ^^ mayde and martyr " echoes both the Oratio and the 
Secreta of the service for St. Cecilia's day (November 22) : 
" Deus, qui nos annua beatae Caeciliae Virginis et ifartyris 
tuae solemnitate laetificas,'' etc. (Oratio); '^Haec hostia, 
Domine, placationis et laudis, quaesumus: ut, interoedente 
beata Caecilia Virgine et Mariyre tua," etc. (Secreta).* And . 
its juxtaposition with the ^^rose and lilie" makes Chaucer's 
recognition of the symbolism clear.' It is not clear to us 
simply because the service aod the symbols of the church 
are no longer part of the very texture of our thinking. 
And in this case, as in a hundred others, an attempt to 
reconstruct for ourselves what one may call the medis&val 
background of the story justifies itself not only by the 
illumination it contributes to the meaning of the story, but 

»G. 24-28. 

' Proprium Missarum de SaneUsy Festa Noyembrisy Die zzii. The same 
phrase, of ooune, applies to Saints Catherine (Nov. 26), Bibiana (Dec 
2), Lake (Dec 13), Prisca ( Jfm. 18), Agnes (Jan. 21 ; cf. Jan. 28), 
Eknerentiana (Jan. 23), Martina (Jan. 30), Agatha (Feb. 5), Dorothea 
(Feb. 6), ThecUi (Sept 23), Ursula and her companions (Oct 21). 

' It is present, too, as a matter of fact, in the explanation ascribed to the 
preface of St Ambrose : 

The palm of marHrdam for to receyve . . . 
Devocionn of ehastUee to love (II. 274, 283). 

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also by the enhaoced appreciation it makes possible of its 
artistic values.^ 

John Livingston Lowes. 

^ The Teraioii of the legend of St Cecilia foond in Ashmole MS. 43 
(Chancer Society, Originah A AnaiogxieSf 208 ff.) agreee with Jaoobns de 
Voragine in its interpretation of the crowns : 

pe lUie betokened pure maidenhod * )«t is so wit & snote. 
pe ro$e bitokenefi ^oure marUrdom * nor )>eron deie je mote. 

See also Eolbing, EngHsche iSWien, i, 232. The same interpretation is 
also found in a version published by Schonbach, in ZUchr, /. d. A,, xvi, 
165 fl. : . . . ich wil ir betiutunge och sagen dir : | ea betiuterU die rown 
rot I daz man dw got sol wtUUdich liden den tot ; \ so beiiuut der wiien lylien 
shin I doM der menshe an libe U7id an henen kifishe sol sin (Eolbing, Bhig- 
Usche Studien^ i, 232). 

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The heroes of the novels of the Abb6 Prevost present 
certain emotional states which are generally r^arded as 
characteristic of the romantic school. Since these moods are 
not commonly supposed to have received literary expression 
until a later date^ it may be worth while to point out the 
more striking among them. It is interesting to note the 
anticipation of some of the doctrines of Rousseau, and of 
the type of romantic rebel represented by Werther, Ren£, 
and Childe Harold. Most of the following passages are 
from Cleveland, the novel which offers the greatest interest 
from this point of view. The others show the same 
tendencies, but in a less marked degree, and in a form less 
convenient for citation. 

Cleveland, ou h PhUosophe Anglais, the second novel of 
Prevost, was published in 1732. It purports to be the 
autobiography of a natural son of Cromwell, who is driven 
by the persecution of his fitther to take refuge in France. 
Thence he goes to America, where he lives for some time 
among the savages. He finds much to admire in these 
children of nature, and is cautious in introducing European 
ideas of civilization. His main effort is directed toward 
establishing a very simple form of religion among them. 
After a series of marvellous adventures on land and sea, he 
returns to France, where, after a number of further trials, 
he is left at the end of the sixth volume. 

We need not be surprised to find that the author oon- 

^ The following article is a summary of a paper presented in a seminary 
directed hy Monsieur Lanson at the Sorbonne. It is a pleasure to thank 
him for his criticism both of the original study and of this r^um^ 

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stantly emphasizes the sensibility of his heroes. The 
" Coeur sensible *' was much affected in his time. It repre- 
sents the sentimental side, and is in some measure the 
cause, of the humanitarian movement of the eighteenth cen- 
tuiy. But when a man begins to observe his own bleeding 
heart, and takes pleasure in self-pity, we have a symptom 
of romanticism. It is precisely this subjective sensibility 
which is found in the novels of Prevost. Two lines from 
Cleveland might be taken as a motto for them all. The 
hero claims for himself 

'* le ccear le plus tendre et le plus sensible que la Nature ait form^" ' 

Again he declares : 

*' Bien n'est plus oppos^ k mon caractdre que ce continuel oubli de soi- 
mdine." * 

Prevost's heroes are constantly suffering, and they often 
arrive at an emotional state closely akin to that known as 
'^ le got^t des larmes '' of the romanticists. 

^'De deux hommes, transports Pun de joie et P autre de douleur, je ne 
sals lequel soufifrirait le plus volon tiers qu'on lui arrachftt le sentiment 
dontil jouit,'" 

says Cleveland. And again : 

**Le ooeur d'un malbeureux est idolfttre de sa tristesse, autant qu*un 
OGenr heureuz et satisfait Pest de ses plaisirs. Si le silence et la solitude 
sent agr^bles dans Paffliction, c'est qu'on s'y recueille en quelque sorte 
au milieu de ses peines, et qu'on y a la douceur de g^mir sans 4tre inter- 
rompu." * 

Like the romanticists, Prevost^ s heroes find in melancholy 
confession a pleasure which they constantly avow. 

> Cleveland^ Londres, 1777, 6 vols, in 12**. The citation is from Vol, 
in, Livre vn, p. 383. 
» Cleveland, Vol. Ill, Livre vi, p. 264. 
« Cleveland, Vol. II, Livre iv, p. 202. 
* Cleveland, Vol. I, Livre i, p. 3. 

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'^Ne me demaodera-t-on pas quelle sorte de plabir peut trouver ua 
miserable ^ rappeler le souvenir de see peises par uii r^t qui ne sauraifc 
manqoer d'en reoouveler le sendmeDt? Ce ne peut 6tre qu'une personne 
heureuse qui me fasee^Ue question ; car tous les inlortuo^ savent trop 
bieu que la plus douce consolation est d' avoir la liberty de se plaindre et 

And again : 

'' Je ne sais quel triste plaisir je trouve \ mesure que j'avanoe dans 
cette histoire, i ni interrompre ainsi moi-m6me et It pr^venir, comme je 
fais, mes lecteurs, sur ce qui me reste It leur raconter . . . C'est le godt 
de ma trisiesse que je oonsulte, bien plus que les r^les de la narration et 
que les devoirs de Thistorien.'' ' 

Interesting too, is Cleveland's apology for his Mhnoires : 

** Cest une consolation plus douce encore de pouvoir ezprimer ses senti- 
ments par ^crit Le papier n'est point un confident insendble, comme il 
le semble; il I'anime en recevant les expressions d'un cceur triste et pas- 
sionn^ ; il les conserve fiddlement au d^faut de m6noire ; il est toujours 
pr6t II les repr^senter et non seulement cette image sert k nourrir une 
chSre et d^licieuse tristesse, elle sert encore k la justifier." ' 

We are far from meaning that sporadic expressions of a 
similar sentiment are not to be found in all literature of all 
time. Virgil's " forsan et hsec olim meminisse juvabit/' 
for example, is familiar. But for one instance among the 
classicists there are a hundred among the romanticists, who 
made it one of the articles of their creed. This emphasis 
we find in Provost, and mark i^s a tendency toward roman- 
ticism. The same may be said of many of the expressions 
of sentiment here considered. We have given only one or 
two illustrations of each, but we might have multiplied 
them indefinitely. 

A belief in the uniqueifiesa of his own misery was charac- 
teristic of the romanticist. A similar conviction is con- 
stantly expressed by the heroes of Prevost. Cleveland says : 

1 CUtfeland, Vol. I, Livre i, p. 3. 
* Cleveland, Vol. II, Livre v, p. 421. 
» Cleveland, Vol. I, Livre i, p. 3. 

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** Poor moi, je puis me placer dans nne troisidme classe, et je suis peut- 
6tre le seol indiyidu de ma malheureuBe espdce.'^ * 

The romanticist was fond of imagining himself the chosen 
object of the persecution of a malign deity. Innumerable 
examples of the same sentiment might be cited from Pre- 
vost's novels. We have chosen two. 

'* Je le regarde encore comme ane preuve sans r^plique de la r^alit^ de 
quelqne puissance maligne, qui s'est comme empar^ de mon sort, et qui 
change le cours mdme de la nature pour assurer ma perte.^' * 

And again : 

'^ J'^tais le jonet de cette mdme puissance maligne, qui m'a rendu mal- 
henrenz d^ ma naissance, et qui n'a pris soin de conserver ma vie qne 
pour en faire un exemple de mis^re et d'infortune.'' ' 

The sentimental cult of pessimism, arising from a personal 
digatU of life, which is associated with the romanticists, is 
cherished by Prevost's heroes. For example, Cleveland 
says: * 

'' Ma douleur s'accrut tellement par mes tristes reflexions que je tombai 
en peu de jours dans la plus dangereuse et la plus terrible de toutes les 
maladies. Je ne puis la faire mieux connattre qu'en la nommant une kor^ 
reur invincible pour la vie," * 

This pessimism is responsible for a mania of suicide 
which appeared at certain periods of the romantic move- 
ment. Several of the characters of Prevost's novels are led 
by their distaste for existence to contemplate self-destruc- 
tion. Cleveland's reflections on this subject oflfer interesting 
similarities to those of Saint Preux in the Nouvelle HUoise, 
There is little that is new in their arguments.* Both Cleve- 
land and Saint Preux regard suicide as a justifiable means 

» Cleveland, Vol. II, Livre w, p. 159. 

* Cleveland, Vol. II, Livre iii, p. 57. 

* Cleveland, Vol. II, Livre m, p. 75. 

* Cleveland, Vol. HI, Livre v, p. 167. 

^One might compare, for example, Les Letiree Pereanes, of Montesquieu, 
b. 76. 

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of escape from irremediable suffering. Neither has any fear 
of punishment after death. But the note to which we would 
especially call attention is the conviction in each of the 
uniqueness of his own misery, and the belief that he is 
thereby exempted from the laws which govern the herd of 
mankind. The romanticists gloried in constituting this 
privileged aristocracy of suffering. Cleveland expresses his 
conviction as follows : 

** Le souverain Auteur de mon 6tre ... a mtrqii^ la diir^ de mes 
jours; je viole ses ordres si j'en pr^ipite la fin ; . . . mais, s^il lea a 
chang^ lui-m6me, oo du moins, s'il les interpr^te autrement pour moi que 
pour le cooimun des hommes, dois-je moins de respect k ses demi^res 
▼oloDt^ que je n'eu devais auz premidres? £n permettant que je eois 
tomb^ dans r extremity de TiDfortune et de la douleur, il m'a excepts du 
Dombre de ceux qu'il condamne k yivre longtempe. . . . L'ezcds mdme 
de mes peiues est un t^moignage clair et intelligible qu'il me permet de 
mourir." * 

Saint Preux writes : 

^^Mais qu'en g^n^ral, ce soit, si Ton vent, un bien pour Phomme de 
ramper tristement sur la terre ; j' j consens ; je ne pretends pas que tout 
le genre humain doive s'immoler d'un commun accord, ni faire un vaste 
tombeau du moi/de. II est, il est des infortun^s trop privU^gi^s pour 
suivre la route commune, et pour qui le d^eepoir et les amdres douleurs 
sont le passe>port de la nature.'' * 

Another aspect of the romantic temperament is found in 
Le Doyen de KiUerine. This novel describes the adventures 
of an Irish cleric who is brought into numberless strange 
situations by the lawlessness of his half-brothers. In the 
opening pages he gives the following description of the 
character of the younger, Patrice. We find in him a proto- 
type of the restless wanderer, Ren6 or Childe Harold, for- 
ever seeking an escape from himself and from his restless 
discontent with present reality. 

1 Cleveland, Vol. Ill, Livre v, pp. 171-172. 

* La Nouvelle Hiloue, Partie lu, Lettre 21. Tome ix, p. 126, of Oeutres 
Completes de J, J. Bousseau^ Paris, 1826. 

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''Mais ce qui ^tait difficile it expliquer, c'est que Patrice ^tait aussi 
insupponable it lui-m^me, qu*il paraiseait aimable anx yeux dee autres. 
n ne troavait rien qui f6t capable de la satisfaire, et de lui faire goOter 
an veritable sentiment de plaisir. Les plus fortes occupations n'^taient 
pour lui qu'un amusement qui laissait tou jours du vide it remplir au fond 
de son ooeur. Quelque agr^ment qu'il eti Fart de r<^pandre dans une con- 
versation ou dans une partie de plaisir, il ne tirait aucun fruit pour lui- 
m6me de ce qui faisait les d^ices des autres. Sous un visage enjou^ et 
tranquille, il portait un fond secret de m^Iancholie et d^nqui^tude qui ne 
se faisait sentir qn*h, lui, et qui Pezcitait sans cesse k d^sirer quelque chose 
qui lui manquait. Ce besoin d^vorant, cette absence d'un bien inconnu, 
Temp^haient d'etre heureuz." ^ 

And again : 

'*I1 suffisait de lui proposer quelque chose sous un tour nouveau pour 
lui en inspirer le d^r, non qu'il conciit en effet beaucoup de godt pour 
ce qu'il oommenpait k desirer, mais parce qu'^tant d^oiit^ de tout ce 
qu'il pofls^ait, son coeur se promettait plus de satisfaction dans le change- 
ment" « 

Patrice's quest for strange sensation may be seen to 
advantage in his first meeting with Mademoiselle de L . . ., 
one of the women whom he loved. The passage is too long 
for citation, but in its gruesome horror it would do credit to 
the romances of Mrs. Anne Radcliffe.' 

Another doctrine professed by the romanticists is that of 
the " divine right of passion." Bruneti^re considers Prevost 
to have been the first to proclaim this in the novel. 

'*Ce8t encore Pauteur de Cleveland et du Doyen de KUlerine, qui, le 
premier dans le roman, a proclamd * le droit divin * de la passion. . . II a 
formula cette doctrine dans le roman, ou m^me dans Fart modeme, avec 
une netlet^ que personne n'a depuis d^pass^e.'^ 

Bruneti^re then quotes from Cleveland : 

* Le Doyen de KUUrine, 4 vols, in 12°, Paris, 1808. The citation is 
from Vol. I, Livre i, p. 19. 

* Le Doyen de Killerine^ Vol. I, Livre i, p. 30. 

» Le Doyen de KiUerine^ Vol. I, Livre n, p. 180 ff. 

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"II me parat, apr^ un sincere ezamen, que les droits de la Nature 
^tant lea premiers de toas les droits, rien nMtait assez fort poar prescrire 
oontre eax ; que Paraonr eu 4tait un des plus sacr^ puisqu'il est comme 
I'ftme de tout ce qui subsiste, et qu'ainsi tout oe que la raiaon ou Fordre 
^tabli parmi les hommes pouvaient faire contre lui, ^tait d'en interdire 
certains effete, sans pouvoir jamais le condamner dans sa source/' ^ 

Bruneti^re continues : 

"Tons ceux qui depuis ont d^velopp^, r^pandu, propag^ la doctrine 
dans le monde n'ont fait que Pemprunter ft Prevost.' 

We recall a Virgilian line, 

" Sua cuique deus fit dira cnpido/' 

which seems as applicable to the heroes of Prevost as to the 
romanticists. The slaves of passion, they bid defiance to 
human and divine laws ; they are tossed from profession to 
profession, from creed to creed ; they take refuge on desert 
islands ; they meditate and attempt suicide. Proud of being 
its victims, they proclaim it the scourge by which a malig- 
nant deity drives them to their doom. The Chevalier des 
Grieux, relating his conversation with Tiberge after his 
second flight with Manon, says : 

'* Je lui repr^sentai ma passion comme un de ces coups particuliers du 
destin, qui s' attache ft la mine d^un miserable, et dont il est aussi impos- 
sible ft la vertu de se d^fendre qu'il Pa ^t4 ft la sagesse de les pr^voir." ' 

The frenzy of passion is intensified in CUvtland by the 
unnatural love of Cecile for her father. In the passionate 
scenes between them we find cadences that suggest Atala 
and the sister of Ren6. These are too long for citation, but 
we quote an echo of them from Cecile's death : 

" Cleveland, Vol. I, Livre i, p. 169. Brunetidre's citation differs slightly 
from the text of the edition of 1777, which we have quoted. 

* Etudes Oritique»8ur VHistoire de la LittSrature Fran^aitef 3« S^rie, Paris, 
1887. The citation is from pp. 218-219. In taking it from the context we 
have been obliged to change slightly the construction of one of the clauses 
of Bruneti^re. 

^BfanonLetoaui, Paris, Ernest Bourdin, no date. Gtation from p. 84. 

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''Son dernier soapir n'avait 6t6 que T^lancement passionn^ d^une 
amante qui se pr^pite dans le sein de ce qu'elle aime pour j rassasier k 
jamais la fureur qu'elle a d' aimer et d'etre aim^." ^ 

A bare mention will perhaps suffice for another aspect of 
romantic passion anticipated by Prevost. Manon LescaiU 
is a novel which clearly deserves a place in the literary 
history of the regeneration of the courtesan by love. 

There remains for consideration the attitude of Prevost 
toward nature. Let us state at once that on this point he 
is, in general, far from the romanticists. To please the 
popular taste of his time for books of travel, he sent his 
heroes to the Orient, to Spain, to America, but they had no 
eyes for what the romanticists found to admire in these 
countries. Prevost^s interest is in humanity, not in nature 
for its own sake. He reveres it as a goddess, and speaks 
of it as of one of the most beautiful works of the Creator, 
but, like all men of his time, he does not see the grandeur 
of wild mountains, or of the sea in storm, or of forests 
unknown to civilized man. He is a deist and then a 
pantheist, and so a lover of nature, — but his admiration is 
intellectual and philosophical rather than sentimental. How 
far he is from the romantic attitude may be seen by reading 
the adventures of the Chevalier des Grieux or of Cleveland 
in America. A perfect opportunity is offered for the use of 
desert solitudes as a background for the sufferings of his 
heroes, but this motif is hardly touched upon. 

In all the novels of Prevost we have found only one 
example of the romantic type of what Buskin calls " the 
pathetic fallacy " — the sentimental call for sympathy from 
nature, which gives it a sentient being, capable of responding 
to moods of joy or sadness. Lord Aximinister, describing 

* Clevelandy Vol. VI, Livre xvi, p. 275. ^^--.^ 


7 \ 

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his life iD a cavern^ where he has taken refuge from the 
persecution of Cromwell, says : 

''Dans ces moments, si je mets le pied hore de la caverae, tons les 
objets qae je d^couvre me paraissent sombres et obscurs. II semble que 
ma tristesse se r^pande sur la nature entidre et que tout ce qui m' enri- 
ronne s'afflige et s'attendrit en ma faveur." ^ 

Benj. M. Woodbridge. 

» Cleveland^ Vol. I, Livre i, pp. 126-127. 

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1. It. Andare, Pkov. Annar^ F. Aller : A Rejoinder 

Revewers hav not accuratly appraisd my Etimology ov 
the Romance Words for To Oo} Inasmuch as the article 
appeard in 1904 and contributions to the subject seem rather 
scarce nowadays, I propose to take up the subject again. 

I will express no opinion ov Homing's essay.* He 
merely refers to a detail ov my article in a foot-note. Elise 
Richter* has lately written ov "the solution ov the andare 
problem, which Homing sturdily attacks and which he has 
eminently advanst'' Just how, she does not say. But we 
used to hear ov la question ambularey point-blank ; so som- 
how a little ground is being gaind, whoever gets the credit. 
Schuchardt * seems to abandon his monogenetic scheme by 
admitting that his tipe ^ambiiare may be connected with 
amhire rather than with ambulare. Behrens,^ referring to 
my work, uses the frase " noteworthy but hardly convincing." 
From this authority I shud hav expected a detaild and 
definit appreciation at least ov the French morfology and 
fonology involvd in my hipothesis. P. Meyer* says that 
from the postulated Vulgar Latin verbs *anntiare and 
*annvlare ^ by various slight-ov-hand tricks we get to the 
Spanish and French verbs — all this not very serious.' Any 

^ PMicatiom 09 the Modem Language Aseociaiion ov Ameriea^ New Series, 
xu, 217 flf. 

* Zeitechrift f. rwn, PhiL, xxnc (1905), p. 515. 

^ Jahretberieht Uber die ForteohrilU der romanieehen Pkilohgit, ix (1905, 
printed 1909), i, 67. 

*Z.f. ram. PkiL, xxx (1906), p. 84. 

*Z./. rom. PkiL, xxxi (1907), p. 123. 

•jBomcmui, xxxvi (1907), p. 140. 


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foQologist who reads my article will admit that this is hardly 
a justified presentation. 

I will consider in detail the report or rather discussion ov 
my article by Elise Richter.^ Fraulein Richter fails to notis 
my derivations ov dialectic Roumanian amnay imna from 
^adminarCy " to chase to/^ and ov F. branler from "^brandxi- 
Uire. A much more serious neglect, to my mind, is the 
utter ignoring ov my carefully, fully, clearly and pains- 
takingly elaborated scheme ov the Latin-Romance sense- 
development ov adnare, annare, ^annitare, ^annulare; i^iz, 
1) " to swim to," 2) " to sail to " (well attested), 3) " to get 
to," " to go or com to " (once attested as a meaning ov 
adnare in classic Latin, cf. enatare, "to get out" [in 
Cicero]), 4) "to go or com" (cf. Russian idti, Greek 
ipyeadai^ with both meanings, and note Papias* gloss 
adnare adnatare venire), 5) "to go" (occasionally rather 
" to com "). As I might have expected from the Jahres- 
beiicM critic, however, I find here somthing like a just 
appreciation ov the fonological and morfological matters 
involvd in the derivations aUer < ^annulare, andare < "^anni^ 
tare. My critic, be it noted, reluctantly accepts the impor- 
tant and tell-tale derivation annar < annarey mentioning as 
evidential the monition non adnao sed adno, which I dis- 
coverd in the grammarian Probus. She does not attack the 
fonology ov the French derivation. Her definit ^ objections 
ar confined to two points in morfology which ar well delt 
with in my former article but which I will now discuss 
again, namely the use ov the suffixes -Hare and -ulare in 
Vulgar Latin. On the first I hav only to quote Meyer- 

^ JahreabericM V. d. Fort d. rom, Phil,, vm (1904, printed 1906-08), i, 
86 f. 
' This word was suggested by Mr. E. W. Martin ov Stanford University. 
' I quote her indefinit objections later on. 

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Liibke's list/ including *oircitare, cogitarey "^flavitare, *mi8- 
cUare, *movitarey *n(mtar€, "^pigritare, ^seditare, ^sequitarey 
^taxUarCy tinnitare, *vanUar€y ^vanniiare, viaiiare. As tho 
unaware ov this array, my critic ventures to assert in the 
Anniml Report on the Progress ov Romance Filology, " In 
Spanish andar < adnare, with the metathesis ov dn > ndy 
common in Spanish, wud be more acceptable than derivation 
from *annitureJ^ Does not this reactionary suggestion also 
betray ignorance ov the antiquity ov the reduction ov dn to 
nn in Latin? On the sufifix -ulare I hav alredy referd to 
Meyer-Lubke.* I now mention the postulated or recon- 
structed Vulgar Latin diminutiv verbs which survived in 
the vernacular ov northern Gaul, viz., ^brustulare > brUler, 
*misculare > mUer^ *orulare > ourler,^ ^rasiculare* > racier, 
"^turbvlare > trovbler. To this group I hav added *brandu- 
lare > brarder and *ann\dare > aller. It is held that new 
formations in -vlare wud rather be expected in Italian than 
in French. This objection was foreseen and carefully met 
in my article. The etima "^annulare, *brandvlare wer postu- 
lated in the Vulgar Latin period along with the other 
postulata just cited. I translate a few interesting but to me 
unconvincing comments from the Jahresbericht article : 

" The formation ov a diminutiv ov a verb for " to go '* 
seems somwhat strange anyway. It cud scarcely originate 
in the nursery. It wud, perhaps, be used to a dog. [FooU 
note : Cf. Viennese ausserl = " get out,*' dim. ov aussi, said 
to the dog.] The main objection, as in the case ov all other 
hipotheses, remains, that these formations, ov greater or 
lesser fonetic accuracy, ar vain suppositions, while the exist- 

'i2om. Oram,, n, § 587. *Rom, Gram,, n, p. 611. 

'This verb is properly from ourU < *orula, 

* This diminativ ov *ra9ieare, the well establisht modification ov classic 
radere, was constructed by Biez and mistakenly rejected by Eorting. 

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336 GABIi O. SIOB 

ence ov ambulare is establisht, whether its fonetic develop- 
ment is explicable or not.'^ 

I quite agree that, to quote my critic's expression, '^ die 
Existenz von ambulare feststeht.'' I fail to see any enor- 
mous difficulty, however, in explaining the fonetic develop- 
ment ov the Latin verb for German gehen, which became 
Roumanian imbla, French ambler, English amble. Filologists 
will recognize Fraulein Richter's avowd preference for 
Bovet's application ov the Wulff suggestion (see her article) 
as temporizing and unprogressiv rather than pacific. She 
here follows Paris, who, however, in seeming to grant som 
grace to the delta or thick I notion, apparently used this 
device to mark with a warning (A) the approach to other 
hopeless but more pretentious ambulare alleys. 

2. It. Agio, cigiato, Port. Azo, Pbov. Aize, F. Aise, Aise, etc. 

I. The Forms. Verbs : It. adoffiare, agiarey Prov. 
aiaary aizir, amr, O. F. aasier, amer (with opposit meaning, 
malaisier), aiser. Nouns : It. agio (malagio), Prov. ais, aize, 
aise, aidmenSy Cat. aise, Port, azo, F. aise (malaise), aisance, 
Eng. ease. Adjectivs: It. agiato (earlier also malagiaio), 
F. awe, aisS (malaisi), Eng. easy. 

II. Controversy. The derivation from Latin ansa, 
proposed by Bugge, is refuted by Thomas, MHanges 
(Pitym>ologie Jrangaise, p. 22, who particularly insists that 
in vew ov the " constant ^' spelling ov the Proven9al words, 
in the best sources, with a z, an etimon in sy is impossible. 
Mackel assumes the existence ov a Vulgar Latin *adatiare 
< Germanic *asatia supported by Grothic " azeti, st. n., 
Annehmlichkeit " (Korting's summary). Here the assumed 
shift from Germanic s to Vulgar Latin d is quite strange* 
Thomas (op. cU., p. 223), arguing against MackePs etimology, 
asserts that in Prov., *aJtiare cud hav becom only ^azar. 

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which wad not aooount for a verbal sabstantiv aize. This^ 
however, is not so ; witness potionem > pozorty poizon, 
rationem > razo^ raizon, etc.* It is plain that a tipe "^atiare 
cud hav becom ^aizar in Prov. The derivation by Thomas 
(following in part Darmesteter) from adjdcens, adjcLcentiaj 
fights shy ov the Port, and It. forms, — ^a neglect which may 
be said to invalidate the suggested etimology. 

III. Contribution. Mackel's tipe ^adatiare is sub- 
stantially not incorrect, a V. L. word in ty being postulated 
by the developments. I . posit the form "^mcdatiare (cf. It. 
mcUato < *tnal(Uu8)y whence, by a change ov the (mistaken) 
prefix, ^adcUiarey " to make good," " to make easy," and by 
aferesis ov the mistaken initial sillable *atiare. Note the 
r^ularity ov the assumed developments *malatiatu8 > F. 
malaisiy It. maloffiatOy *malatiare > O. F. malaiaier. Port. 
azo (postverbal) is regular.^ Meyer-Liibke * states, " Iare 
tritt an Participia und Adjectiva, gehort aber naturgemass 
der vorromanischen Zeit an." He presents dozens ov 
examples. The process ov postverbal or deverbal deriva- 
tion ov nouns and adjectivs is also well establisht.* Meyer- 
Lubke* indicates by a score ov examples and several 
etceteras the commonness ov the prefix mal. Considering 
the numerous pairs like contentus beside ^Tnalcontenttis, with 
opposit meanings, I suppose that the form *malcUiatu8 was 
taken for a compound, the second hAf ov which was *atiatu8y 
with meaning opposit to that ov *7nalcUiatib8. A similar 
concision is attested by O. F. empouUler beside d^ouiller < 
deapoliare. Cf. also It. bonacda, " c&m " for *malaccia < 

* Cf. Grandgent, Prownfol Phonology and Morphology^ p. 68. 

•a. Grober's OrundrisSf i, p. 748. 

•jRom. Gram,, n, p. 606. 

*a. Meyep-Lubke, Rom. Oram,, n, pp. 441-448. 

^Bom, Oram,, n, p. 670. 

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3. It. Malvagio, O. S. Malvazo, 8p., Pobt. Malvado, 
Prov. Malvatz, F. Mauvais, 

It seems unnecessary to show that the various theories 
hitherto proposed to account for the origin ov these words ar 
all unsatisfactory. Diez, starting from O. S. mcdvajTy " bose 
machen," derives it from male levare^ an etimon ov suitable 
meaning presenting no fonetic irregularity ; but he separates 
malvado and malvagio^ which seem related. I suggest the 
assumption ov a V. L. verb derived from Tiude levatns > 
Sp. malvadoy Prov. malvaiz — viz.y *mal{e) levatiare > It. 
^malvajgiarCy O. F. malvaimer, O. S. *malvazar, Prov. 
*malvaiaar. The surviving It. malvagioy F. mav/vais^ t(^ther 
with O. S. malvazOf Prov. malvaia ar postverbals. On post- 
verbals in general see Meyer-Liibke.* The fonetic changes 
assumed ar all regular. (Prov. malvaitz is a contamination 
ov malvaiz and malvais.) 

Cabl C. Bice. 

^Rom. Oram,, ii, pp. 376, 448. 

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In the Macro play of Marikind^ the central motive 
is the tilling of a piece of grooind " To eschew ydulness," 
a motive, as Dr. Brandl^ points out, foreign to all the 
other morality plays. According to him it is introduced 
from the " Ackerfeld motive " of Lydgate's Assemhly of 
the Oods. " Fiir die Quellenf rage eind die Uehereinstim- 
mungen zwischen * Mankind ' und Lydgate's ^ Assembly of 
Gods' wichtig. Auch in dieser allegorischen Erzahlung 
ist der Mensch (Freewill) auf einem Felde (Mikrokosmos) 
gedacht. Virtue eilt dahin um Gnade zu predigen. Aher 
auch Vice stellt sich ein und schickt zunachst drei 
Gesellen (Temptation, Folly, Sensuality) voraus, von 
denen einer das Feld mit TJnkraut besat (nach Matthaus 
13, 24 ff.). In Folge dessen muse in der Schlacht um 
den Menschen Virtue zuriickweichen, Freewill neigt sich 
zu Vice und wird nur dadurch gerettet, dass Virtue ver- 
starkt zuriickkehrt, worauf er mit Gewissen, Vice aber mit 
Verzweiflung zusammenkommt (Triggs' Ausgabe, S. 28- 

It seems, however, much more probable that the author 
of Mankind was influenced by the " half-acre '^ episode 
in Piers Plowman.^ True, the main action of Lydgate's 
poem takes place on a field; but what kind of a field? 

^ Early English Temt Society, Eaotra Series xci, 1904, pp. 1-34. 

^Quellen and Forsohungeriy Lxxx, p. xxx. 

* Piers the Plovoman, Ed. W. W. Skeat, Oxford, 1886. A Text, 
Passus yn (B Text, vni). I am indebted to Professor Garleton F. 
Brown for tlie suggestion that thia might be the case, and for the 
great interest which he has taken in this paper. 


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Not one which the hero elects to till, but one in which the 
whole army of Vice is arrayed against an equally imposing 
army of Virtue. Although the " field motive " is carefully 
and elaborately worked out, all the paraphernalia of battle 
are in evidence: Virtue appears in his war-chariot with 
suggestions of coming victory. All the characters placed 
in -the field are the allegorical conventions so well known by 
the fifteenth century, with a good many minor vices and 
virtues added in lines that are of interest only if the 
reader be on the lookout for old friends in accustomed 
roles or new disguises. No attempt at characterization 
is made, very little vividness of narration is evident. 
There is nothing, I think, to suggest the tilling in the 
Morality play, which affords Mankynde so much labour 
and the audience (and Tyti villus) so much amusement. 
For although seed is sown, it is the seed of Sensuality, 
and it plays an exaggerated part of a different character, 
serving only to render the ground slippery for Virtue 
and his hosts. 

Turn now to Piers Plowman, A Tesrt, Paseus vii (B 
Text, VIII ), and we find exactly the same rustic sur- 
roundings as in Mankind. And instead of a field of battle 
with Gods and Goddesses, Vices and Virtues for the main 
characters, we have Piers himself a ploughman, the other 
characters " wastours " and " f aytours," quite comparable 
in social status and in character to New-Gyse, Now-a-days, 
and Nought; Hunger, a rough burly fellow like either 
Mankynde or his tormentors ; and the Ejiight, not unlike 
the character of Mercy, I should think. Moreover, there 
are, I believe, greater resemblances of situation. After 
the confessions of the Seven Deadly Sins and their avowal 
to seek St. Treuthe if only they can find a guide, they 
meet with a man who is recognized by one of their num- 

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ber as Piers tho Plowman. He tells them the road to 
Treuthe, which is nothing other than the Ten Command- 
ments.^ Passus VII* opens with the folk begging Piers 
to act as their guide. To them he answers : — 

I haue an half-aker to herie * bi tho hei^e weye; 
Weore he wel i-eried • thenne with ou wolde I wende, 
And wissen ou the rihte weye • til le founden Treuthe.* 

He then directs the women in the crowd to make clothes 
for the poor and sacks for wheat at the harvest, while 
they are awaiting him. A Knight offers his services, 
and Piers says that he will willingly plough for them 
both if he will keep holychuroh free from Wastours and 
his wheat free from robber-birds. He then prepares as 
a pilgrim from the journey, hanging a seed4)ag on his 
back in place of the usual scrip, with a bushel of bread- 
corn in it. After making his testament he takes up his 
" plouh-pote " ^ (B text " plow-fote " ^) for his staff, and 
he and the pilgrims work on the land till noon, when 
Piers stops to see who has worked well and is worthy to 
hire at the harvest. By and bye when Wastour and a 
" Brutiner " proffer Piers bribes for com, and the Knight 
can avail nothing, Piers summons Hunger to the rescue, 
who punishes them so soundly that finally Piers ha^ to 
intercede. Only after a hearty meal furnished by the 
now eager workers does Hunger consent to go away, first 
advising Piers not to feed the men too highly but " bidde 
him go swynke."* The succeeding episo4es in this Passus, 
t. e.y the withdrawal of Hunger and consequent evil results 
of prosperity are not relevant to the question in hand. 

>A Text, Passus vi; B V. *Cf. B vi. 

•A vn, 11. 4-6; of. B vi, 11. 4-6. ♦A vn, 1. 96. 

•B VI, h 105. 'A vn, 1. 205; B vi, 1. 219. 

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One or two passages from the next Passus are^ however, 
worth noting. Trenthe, hearing of the famine that has 
followed upon idleness, sends for Piers, 

To takon his teeme • and tilyen the eorthe.* 

and purchases a " pardoun a pena ei a culpa "^ for him 
and his heirs. At the end of the Passus a priest reads 
the pardon to Piers. "Qui bona egerunt, ibunt in vitam 
etemam, qui vero mala, in ignem etemum." ^ Then — 

Pers for puire teone • poUede hit a-sonder, 

" I Bchal sese of my eowinge/' quod Pera, " and swynke not m 

Ne about my lyflode so bisy beo no more " 1 * 

Here seem to be the essentials of vigorous drama, a 
mingling of different kinds of persons, vivid characteri- 
zation, lively dialogue, and plenty of action. The dramatic 
quality evident throughout Mankind assures us that its 
author was a man of a good deal of wit, who would see the 
dramatic possibilities, and turn the events' to his own 
account. It would be easy for him to change Piers and 
the Knight into his admonitory Mercy, and, for the sake 
of the comedy, to bring Mankynde out from the ranks 
of the wastours to make him the hero of the most original, 
and perhaps the funniest of the early " moral " plays. 
Near the beginning of the play Mercy warns Mankynde 
against the three Vices, New-Qyse, Now-a-days, and 
Nought and their master Tytivillus, adding the advice, 

»A vin, 1. 2; B vn, 1. 2. 

•A vm, 1. 3; B vn, 1. 3. 

■A vni, after 1. 95; B vn, after I. 287. 

*A vni, n. 100-103; B vn, 11. 116-118. 

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Do truly yowur labure, & kepe yowur halyday.* 

and again, 

Do truly yowur labure, & be never ydyill.* 

Mankynde's efforts literally to follow this sound advice 
create for the play the " field-motive " peculiar to it. 
As soon as Mercy leaves him to his own devices, he takes 
up his spade and begins to dig, with the words : 

Thys erth, with my spade, I xall assay to delffe; 
To eschew ydulnes, I do yt myn own aelffe,* 

Meanwhile New-Gyse, Now-a-days, and Nought come on 
the stage and twit Mankynde with his labour ; Now-a-days 
wishes to bargain for a " goode carte in harwest," * and 
Nought remarks, " He ys a goode starke laburrer ; he wolde 
f ayn do well,"^ but Mankynde bids them do their " labur " 
and beats them soundly with his spade. 

Now follows a very lively scene. For while Mankynde 
goes out to fetch com for his land, Myscheffe and his 
three companions, loudly complaining of Mankynde's 
treatment, return, and the three make the most of their 
injuries. Myscheffe offers to cure them by cutting off 
their heads, an offer which effectively ends their pains 
and renders them strong enough to collect from the 
audience "goode rede reyallys"* or any coin they can 
get. Tytivillus then comes and hides a board under the 
earth Mankynde is digging, mingling his com with 
" drawk & with duraell." "^ Upon this Mankynde 

^Mankind, 1. 293. ' Ihid., 1. 301. 

*Ihid., 11. 321-322. * Ihid., 1. 359. 

»/6id., 1. 361. •/&«., 1. 458. 
'Ibid., 1. 630. 

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returns with his seed and proceeds to sow it, but finds 
the ground so hard that he decides to 

Sow [it] in wyntur & lett Gode werke.^ 

Turning round now to get his corn, he exclaims: 

A-laflse! my com js >k)6t! here ys a foull werke 
I se well, by tydlynge, lytyll xall I wyn. 
Here I gyf wppe my spade, for now ft for euer; 
To occupye my body, I wyll not put me in deuer.* 

He resolves to hear evensong, but this proves irksome, his 

head feels heavy, and he falls asleep. This is as far 

as it is necessary "to carry the play here as there are no 

more traces, with one exception, of Piers Plowman. But 

the parallelism of the main themes seems clear enough.' 

1. The characters are to a certain d^ree similar ; Mercy 

corresponding to Piers Plowman and the Knight, Man- 

kynde and his jolly tormentors to the wastours and fayturs, 

the lame and the blind who attempt to impose on Piers, 

and those who 

eongen atte ale. 
And bolpen him to herien • with "hey! trolly-loUy! "* 

»/6*d., 1. 639. 

^Ibid., 11. 640-643. 

'Of course Piers uses a plough, Manynde, a spade, but the 
limitations of the stage obviously necessitate the Qhange to some- 
thing less wieldy. Moreover, the spade is not altogether an inno- 
vation on the part of the author. Gf. Piers PUmman, B vi, U, 190- 
193 (cf. A vn, 11. 177-178) : 

An heep of heremites • henten hem spades. 

And ketten here copes • and courtpiee hem made, 

And wenten as werkemen - with spades and with shoueles. 

And doluen and dykeden • to dryue aweye hunger. 

spiers Plouman, A vn, U. 108-09; B vi, 11. 122-23. 

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2. In both cases the setting is rustic ; the chief action 
takes its origin from the tilling of a piece of ground for 
honest labour, the comedy comes from what in Piers 
Plowman closely resembles a practical joke^ and in Man- 
kind is the genuine article. 

If this were all, in view of the wide vogue of Piers 
Plowman^ one would be disposed to consider the similarity 
as due merely to the general influence of a poem of such 
repute. But it does not stop here; there are other in- 
stances of such notable similarity that I feel convinced 
that Piers Plowman directly influenced Mankind. The 
incidents that group themselves about the two fields are 
fairly alike in character. Notice, for example, in Piers 
Plowman the commotion created by Hunger. At the 
summons of Piers, 

Hongur in haste * hente Wastor bi the mawe, 
And wrong him so be the wombe * that bothe his e^en watreden. 
And buffetede the Brutiner * aboute bothe his ohcdces; 
He lokede lyk a lanterne • al his Iji after. 
He beot so the boyes * he barst neih heore ribbes, 
Nedde Pers with a peose-lof * i-pr^ed him to leue.^ 

This may easily have suggested the ipore elaborate, perhaps 
more stirring, scene when Mankynde with righteous indig- 
nation belabours New-Gyse, Now-a-days, and Nought for 
interfering with his work. Now-a-days says 

XaU aU this corn grow here, 
,t ^ xaU haue )>e nezte jert 
f yt be so, oom had nede be dere.' 


Nought suggests: 

*/Wrf., A vn, lU. 161-166; cf. B yi, 11. 171-176. 
• Mankind, 11. 345-47. 

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A-lasse, goode fadere! ]>is labor fretyth yow to ]>e bone. 
But for yowur croppe I take grett mone/ 

But ISiew Gyse bursts out with: 

£7, how se turne )>e erth wppe k down! 
I haue be in my days in many goode town, 
jett saw I neuer such a-nother lyllynge.* 

Mankynde pays them in their own coin, — 

Haue le non other man to moke, but ever me? 

Hye yow forth lyvelyl for hens I wyll yow dryffe. 

(Beats them).' 

Then the three say in turn 

(Xew-Gyse) A- las my Jewelles! I xall be schent of my wyff I 
(Now-a-Days) A-lasse! & I am lyke neuer for to thryue, 
I haue such a buflFet.* 

(Nought) Marryde I was for colde, but now am I warme. 

fQ are ewyll avysyde, ser, for ^e baue done harme. 
By cokkys body sakyrde, I haue such a peyn in 

my anne, 
I may not chonge a man a ferthynge.' 

Again a few lines further on, when Mankynde attributes 
his success to Gfod (" Nee in hasta, nee in gladio, saluat 
Dominus"),® Nought replies, — 

No, mary, I be-schrew yow, yt ys in spadibus; 
Therfor Oystis curse cum on yowur hedybus. 
To sende yow lesse myght.* 

and Mankynde, widi a triumphant countenance (evidently 
turning to the audience)-, — 

'Ibid., 11. 349-60. •/&«., liK 354-56. * Ihid,, 371- ff. 

* Mankind, 11. 374 ff. » Mankind, 11. 381 ff. 

•Ibid.y 11. 390. '/bid., 11. 391-93. 

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I promytt yow, J>e8 felouse wyll no more cum here, 
For summe of ]>em, oertenly, were summe-what to nere.* 

For a man of such wit aa the author of Mankind surely 
the few lines in Piers Plowman would suffice to start 
this really amusing bit of play.^ 

»iWd., Uj. 394-5. 

'This episode with the spade recalls forcibly the similar episode 
in Lucian's Titnon the Misanthrope (called to my attention by 
Professor Brown). When Zeus sends Plutus and Hermes to relieve 
Timon from Poverty, he threatens Plutus with hie spade, but 
finally has to accept the gift of the Oods. Then, as in Mankind, 
his spade stands him in good stead and turns up a mighty treasure 
of gold. Almost instantly those friends who had shunned him in 
Poverty swarm up the hill to the comer where he is working in 
smock-frock to earn his six-pence a day, only to be met each in 
tiirn by Timon's spade. This plays even a more prominent part 
here than it did in the stirring scene of Mankind, Timon's reception 
of his visitors parallels very closely Mankynde's reception of New- 
Gyse, Now-a-days, and Nought, and the resulting confusion in both 
cases has much the same comic effect on the reader. I give one or 
two of the similar bits of repartee: 

Timon — ^It will be a funeral march, and a very touching one, 
with spade obbligato, (Cf. Nought's "Spadibus," 1. 391). 

Cfnathonides — Oh, My God! My God! . . . Til have you before the 
Areopagus for assault and battery . . . Mercy, Mercy! 

Timon — What! you won't go, won't you? 
Then to Philiades: 

Come near, will you not, and receive my — spade! 

Philiades — ^HelpI help! this thankless brute has broken my 
head. . . ." 
To Demeas: 

I doubt whether you wiU feel Uke marrying, my man, when 
I have given you — ^this! 

Demeas — Oh, Lord! What is that for? • • • 

Timon — ^WeU, here is another for you . . . 

Demeas — Oh! oh! my back! 
and to Thrasyoles, who bargaina for a soripful of his treasure: 

Instead of a mere scripful, pray take a whole headful of clouts, 
standard measure by the spade. 


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348 -U-AHTCT. 1£« ygTT-T.TCI^ 

Moreover, there are, I believe, etiU closer parallels in 
situation. If the field-motive comes from Piers Plowman, 
one might reasonably expect to find little points of agree- 
ment And this I think to be the case, although such 
likenesses do not occur in the same order in the poem 
and in the play. 

1. Piers tells the people v^ho wish him to act ae guide 
to St. Treuthe that he has a half-acre to till before he 
can go with them ; ^ Nought asks of Mankynde " How 
many acres suppose Je here, by estymacyon i " ^ The very 
fact that the question comes at the end of Nought's taunt- 
ing speech when it could have been turned into a pretty 
bit of satire, confirms the feeling tJiat the idea has simply 
been transferred without thought from the earlier poem. 

Thr<i8. — ^Land of liberty, equality, legality! protect me against 
this ruffian! 

Timon — What is your grievance, my good man? ie the measure 
short? Here is a pint or two extra then, to put it right. 

The similarity of incident, though obvious and most interesting, 
does not for a moment warrant the conclusion that Mcmkind ¥ras 
under the influence of Timon: the parallelism between the two lies 
only in the fact that the spade is used as a foil digainst the 
Vice Idleness, as in Timon it is the foil ag^ainst Poverty 
and Ingratitude, and the weapon by which the heroes get 
the better of their tormentors — ^taunting on the one hand, cringeing 
on the other. Had there been any direct influence, there would, 
I think, have been some appearance of the niunerous allegorical 
figures, spoken of as actual persons (Wisdom, Endiiranoe, Hunger, 
Courage, Folly, Arrogance, Deceit, Toil), although Poverty is the 
only one with a speaking part. If the author did know the dialogue, 
he probaUy merely remembered what a good bit of stage busiiiess 
the spade produced, and made no further use of it than to let it 
weigh somewhat in recasting the Piers Plowman episode on his 
owti lines. 

^ Piers the Plovoman, A vn, 1. 4. 
* Mankind, i. 353. 

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2. PieiB makes his testament in which he reviews his 
worldly state; Mankynde, before beginning his labours^ 
writes also on a paper his worldly state. 

Her wyll I ^t, &. tytyW in >is papyr 
The incomparable astat of my promycyon, 

The gloryuse remembrance of my nobyll oondycyon 
Memento, homo, quod oinia es, d in oinerem reuerteria ^ 

3. Moreover, although Mankynde does not begin his 
" testament " with an invocation as does Piers " In dei 
nomine amen/' ^ he does begin his tilling ^^ in nomine 
Patris, & Filii & Spiritus Sancti." • 

4. Again, the "waystours'' and "faytours'' bargain 
with Piers for his harvest, offering him bribes and finally 

Wiltow or neltow • we wil haue owre wille, 

Of thi flowre and thi flesche • feoche whan iiB liketh. 

And make vs murie ther-myde - maugre thi chekea! * 

Now-a-days says to Mankynde, 

^Mankind 11. 308 ff. 

'Piers the Plowman, A vn, 1. 79, B vi, 1. 88. Note that at A vn, 1. 
69 Piers Plowman eays " I wol souwen hit [bred-corn] myself * and 
seththen with on wende/' and at line 79 '' In dei nomine, amen • I 
make hit [his testament] mi-seluen." Now Mankynde, when he 
takes up his spade, says, "Thys erth, with my apade, I xaU assay 
to delffe; To eschew ydullness, I do yt myn own selffe." (11. 321-322), 
lines that strongly recall Piers Plowman's. Of course the first 
instance cited may be caused by the exigencies of aUiterative Terse, 
but the recurrence of the words so close t<^ther makes them almost 
a catch phrase, which might unconsciously re-appear in the writing 
of the later author. 

•Mankind, 1. 537. 

* Piers Plowman, B vi, IL 168-160, of. A vn, 11. 144-146. 

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We xaU) bargen with yow, & iio>er moke nor soome; 
Take a goode carte in harweat, & lode yt with yowur come, 
Ande what xall we gyf yow for }>e levynge?* 

What, indeed, but the same scorn as the wastours? 

5. Piers wishes to sow a bushel of bread-corn ere 
going on his pilgrimage; Mankynde goes away to fetdh 
corn for his land, and presently returns with it. 

6. And, lastly. Pier's evident disgust when the priest 
reads his pardon to him is quite comparable, I think, to 
Mankynde's when he finds that his spade will not turn 
up the earth in which Tytivillus has hidden the board. 
I have already given a few of the lines ^ describing these 
scenes, but it will be necessary to quote more fully, in order 
to make the similarity apparent. After reading the 

" Peter ! " quod the preoet tho • " I con no pardoun fynde, 
Bote * dowel, and haue wel • and god schal haue thi soule, 
And do vuel, and haue Tuel * hope thou non othur, 
That aftur thi deth-day • to heUe Bchaltou wendel'" 
And Pers, for puire teone • pollede hit a-sonder, 
And siththe he seide to hem * these semely aawiB, 

" 8i amhulauero in medio vmbre mortis, non timeho mala, 
quoniam tu mecum ee. 
I schal sese of my aowynge," quod Pers, • "and swynke not 

80 harde, 
Ne aboute my lyflode • eo bi^ beo no more! 
Of preyere and of penaunee * my plouh achal ben heraftur, 
And bi-loure that I beo-kmh • er my lyf fayle."* 

Compare now Mankynde's actions when he also meets 
with disappointment. 

^Mankind, U. 858-00. 

'fiee above, p. 842. 

* Piers Plowman A vm, U. 96-106, cf. B vn, M. 112-120. 

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Thys londe ys so harde, yt maketh wn-lusty & yrke; 
I xall flow my com at wyntur & lett Gode werke. 

I 86 well, by tyllynge, lytyll xaU I wyn. 

Here I gyf wppe my spade, for now A for ever 

To occupye my body, I wyll not put me in deuer; 

I wyll here my ewynsonge here or I dysseuer: 

Thys place I assygne ae for my kyrke; 

Here, in my kerke, I knell on my kneys: 

"Pater noater, qui es in oelds."* 

Both the men show anger and diBappointment, both appar- 
ently decide to let prayers take the place of more active 
efforts to make a living in the future *and ^^lett Qod 

It has already been said^ that the general characterifftios 
evinced by the dramatis personae of Piers Plowman re- 
appear, to a certain extent, in the dramatis personae of 
the play. One is tempted, in the case of Mercy, to work 
out the relation more closely, for he seems to embody the 
teaching of Piers and of his confederate Hunger, a 
peculiar combination, no doubt, but one that works well 
as we find it. The chief difference between Mercy and 
Piers lies in the fact that the one is an active participant 
in affairs, guiding the plough, hiring men of all sorts and 
conditions, acting as judge in deciding who shall be worthy 
of hire at the harvest; the other is the giver of wise 
counseL As in the case of the other changes noted in 
ManJdnd, this again is due to the necessities of dramati- 
zation. Mankynde, the neutral figure, had to appropriate 
to himself the crucial thing in Piers Plowman, but he oould 
not actually change places with Piers. For the latter 

^ Mankind, U. 638 ff. 
•See above, p. S40. 

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is. most assuredly the spiiitual agent of the poem, sent to 
help and teach the people, just as Mercy is the spiritual 
adviser in the play, sent to direct Mankynde, if possible. 
He is fashioned on the lines of Piers himself, as far as 
that was practicable and moreover combines also the teach- 
ing of Hunger the counsellor. From the beginning he 
advocates labour and moderation as the only real means 
of salvation. There is no line for line similarity that 
I can confidently set down, but the sentiments expressed 
are dose enough to suggest direct influence, and in two 
instances at least, the comiection can hardly be disputed. 
Piers advises the women seeking counsel in these words: 

Summe echul souwe sakkes * for schedyng of whete. 
And 26 wjues that habbeth wolle * worcheth hit faste, 
Spiimeth it spedily - spareth noght ^ur fyngres. 
Bote lif hit be haly day • or elles holy euen." ' 


Again he says: 

For hose helpeth me to heren * or eny thing to swynken. 
He schal haue, beo yt lord * the more huyre in herueet. 

And alle kunnes craftus men - that cunne lyuen with treuthe, 
I echal fynden hem heore fode • that feithfuliche lyuen."' 

And again, 

Treuthe schall techen ow * his teeme for to dryue, 
(Bothe to sowen and to setten * and sauen his tilthe, 
Gaete crowen from his com * and kepen his beestee. 
Or i& fichulle ete barly bred * and of the brok drynke' 

Here it is only the active life that is to have its reward. 

>A vn, 11. 9-12, of. B VI, 11. 9ir. 

•A VII, IL aOflf., cf. B VI, 11. 67flf. 

• Piers Plouman, A vn, 11. 127 flf. Cf . B vi, U. 186 ff. 

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Similarly in Mankind^ New-Gyse and his followers are 
in disgrace with Mercy because they are "onthryfty 
gestis," ^ " They hane grett eaee ; f^r-f or f>ei wyil take 
no thought," ^ and " ^ei be wanton now, but f>en xall 
f>ei be sade " ; ' and Mankynde is to spend his time well 
and " serue Gode with hertis affyanoe " * "to do truly 
[his] labure & be neuer ydyll." ^ This theme afterwards 
is worked out by action rather than expounded in more 

The discussions of " Measure," or moderation, intro- 
duced into speeches of Mercy show even closer resembl-ance. 
Piers says that food for " ancree and hermytes " 

Ones at noon is i-nom * that no werk ne vsetli, 
He abydeth wel the bet * that bommeth not to ofte/ 

and Hunger's receipt for keeping away mischief is : 

ich bote the, . . . and thou thin hele wylne, 
That thou drynke no dai • til thou haue dynet sumwhat; 
Ete not, ich bote the ■ til hunger the take, 
And sende the sum of his sauce * to sauer the ,the betere; 
Keep sum til soper tyme ; and sit thou not to longe, 
A-rys vp ar appetyt • habbe i-^eten his fulle. 
Let not sir Surfet • sitten at thi bord.* 

Compare now Mercy's advice to Mankynde as regards 
moderation : 

Pystempure not yowur brayn with goode ale nor with wyn. 

"Mesure ys tresure"; y for-byde yow not >e use. 
Mesure yowur sylf euer; be-ware of excesee! 

^Mankind, 1. 168. »iWd., 1. 169. 

»/W<f., 1. 176. */&td., 1. 228. 

*Ihid., 1. 301. * Piers Plowman, A vn, 11. 138-39. 

* Piers PUnoman, A vn, 11. 246 ff.; cf. B vi, 11. 261 flf. 

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]>e Buperfluoufle gyse, I wyll )>at ^e refuse; 
When nature js wiSysjde, a-non )>at se aese.^ 

Then follows a specific instance to prove that " meeure 
ys tresure ^' : 

Yf a man haue an hors, & kepe hym not to hje. 
He may then reull hym at hys own dysyere; 
Yf he be fede ouer well, he wyll dysobey, 
Ande in happe cast his master in )>e myre.' 

words which recall somewhat the horse passage in The 
Owl and the Nightingale.^ Surely they would be more 
appropriate in the mouth of one of the comic characters, 
but that Mercy should utter them as a solemn exemplum 
only vouches for the author's originality in treating what 
with him has almost ceased to be the old conventional 
figure, and suggests that he had the character of such an 
one as Hunger in mind. 

Finally one other startling reecho from Piers Plowman 
(pointed out to me by Dr. Brown) occurs in Mankynde 
as one of the main bits of action, taken over from Lang- 
land's remonstrances witJi Scripture for the inconsistent 
bestowal of future reward and punishments. He says: 

Souteris and seweris * suche lewide lottis 
Peroen with a pater-noster * the padeis of heuene, 
Withoute penaunoe, at here parfynge * in-to hei^ blissel 
Breuis oraoio penetrat oelum,* 

As Mankynde kneels down to pray after his futile 
efforts at tilling, Tytivillus comes on the scene with, — 

* Mankindy 11. 229-233. 

* Mankind, 11. 234 ff. Ml. 773-788. 

* Piers Plowman, A xi, 11. 301 ff.; B X 11. 4e0-461. 

Digitized by 



Qwyat! peeeet I sail go to hjs ere, & tytyll ]>er-in. 

''A schorte prejere thrylyth hewyn": of pi preyere blyn.^ 

Whatever may be thought of the significance of some of 
these instances^ there seems to be no escape from the con- 
clusion that the plot of Manhynd depended for its central 
situation^ its characters) its surroundings and general 
trend of thought on the greatest of English allegorical 

Mabel M. Eeilleb. 

^Mankind, U. 560 ff. 

Digitized by 



This article will deal only with the phonology of the 
problem.' By a careful study of the Spanish and French 
forms I hope to establish the correct etymologies of the 
important forms and to show that we must suppose for 
Vulgar Latin a form metipsimus by the side of metlpsimus. 
As I have said in my Studies in New Mexican Spcmish,^ 
the majority of the explanations previously given for the 
various forms in Spanish and French^ are curious rather 
than scientific. Gaston Paris (Extraits de la Chanson 
de Bolandy § 18), Cornu (Rom. xiii, 289) and Men^ndez 
Pidal (Oram, Hist.* § 66), however, seem to have come to 
believe in a long vowel for some of the forms and rightly so. 
As to the numerous attempts made by others, it is only 
necessary to say, that in so far as the Spanish and French 
forms are concerned, every explanation which the writer 
has seen is either a traditional error or a new one. Such 
explanations as those of Baist (Gh'undrisSy i, 887, and 
Krit. JaJirsb.y i, 534), Cejador (La Leng. de Cervantes^ I, 
739), Cuervo (Apuntaeiones,'^ § 777), Ford (Don Quixote, 
93), Fieri (ZRPh., xxvii, 584) and others for the 
Spanish forms, and of Mussafia (i2om., xxviii, 112), 
Etzrodt (Bom. Forsch.y xxvn, 878), Harseim (Boehmer 
Stvd.y IV, 287) and others for the French forms have little 
or no basis in fact and I need not re&te them here.^ 

^The semasiology of the problem needs no further discussion, see 
ALLOy lu, 270, and Grand gent, Vulg, Lot., § 66. 

*IUvue de DiaUetologie Bomaney i, 185. See also P. Barbier Fils, 
IbicLy II, 496. 

' In Spanish the traditional error has been to attempt to derive nUtmo 
from memOf starting with the Lat. meeipsimu. Mj objections to such a 
procedure are based on the fact that of the Spanish forms mtsmo is as old 

Digitized by 



I now enter into the subject matter of my article. 


The Hispanic Forms 

The important Hispanic ^ forms are the following : 
mevsmOy miismo, mismo ; meesmoy mesmo.^ 

(a) rrunsTno 

This form seems to be the oldest strictly Spanish form, 
used in the xnth century and perhaps already archaic by 
the xinth century when mismo is the prevailing form. The 
total number of cases of meismo known to me are the follow- 
ing : Fuero de AviUs (ed. Ferndndez-Guerra, 1865) 
91, 106 (the exclusive form) ; Faero Juzgo (variants, Esco- 
rial 3.) va, via, 91b (y oM otras veces.) ; 8to. Domingo de 
SOos (ed. Fitz-Gerald, 1904) 78a. The last case 
establishes the form meismo with the accent on the t beyond 
doubt : 

' Oraua amenudo a Diot por si mewno 
que el que era padre e luz de Christianysmo 
guardasado de yerro e de mortal aqfiamOy 
por mm perder el potto que faso ai bopHsmo.* 

if not older than metmOf as I shall soon show. The archaic meigmo and 
the other old Hispanic forms, sach as Gbdician meeemo and miitmo have not 
heen known to those who have written about the etymology of the Spanish 
forms and left out of consideration, important as they are. In French there 
has also prevailed the error of attempting to derive (often by very inge- 
nious but improbable phonetic processes) misme and even meieme from 
meetme^ but as a matter of fact nuXeme is by far the prevailing form in old 
French and meditnu is the oldest The forms misme^ meimne have been 
usually avoided by the French etymologbts. 

^ I do not include Catalan in my use of this word. 

'The form mietmo used by Lope de Vega (see Pietsch, Mod. 
PkiLy vn, 67) is used for mesmo (false dipthongization) and deserves no 
consideration as an etymological form. 

Digitized by 





847 ' Que bien pago a 
aus vastaloi mitmtmf* 
(in assoiuuioe with ve- 
nido, ricoif meagtiMio, 

114, 131. 

41h 9b, 12b, 14a, 14b, 
17b, 19a, 24b, 29a, aOb, 
82b, 35a, 36b, 37b, 4U, 
43a, 71b, 91b, 101b, 
103b, 108a, 116b, 116a, 
121a, 122b, etc, etc.' 

8a6, 4b39, 5bl6, 6a46, 
9bl2, 15a9, 17a42, 
18a36, 23a3, 30b51, 
d6a34, 37a2, 44a31, 
49b61, 61b6, 55a51, 
62b29, eta, etc 

124, 169, 174. 

Fuero de Brihuega 
(J. Catalina Gar- 
cia, 1887) 

(b) mismo, mesmo 

The prevailing form for the oldest Spanish period^ i. e., 
xii-xiii centuries, is mUmOy tho mesmo is also found. The 
following lists give a fairly accurate account of the forms in 
the more important texts : ^ 

xn~xiii centuries 

P. (WCW(Pidal) 

ElFuerode OvUdo 



El Fuero Jmgo 
(Acad, ed., 1815) 

Pr. CfrSniica Oen, 
(Pidal, 1906) 

^ In all cases I have limited mj examples to the xn and xin centaries. 
Some texts have not been examined in their entirety, but the cases of either 
meano or mimio have been carefully recorded as far as the text was exam- 
ined. In the Pr. OiSniea Qen, for example, I have examined the first 200 
pages, and only mitmo ocean. 

Digitized by 





168, 178, 180, 182, 183, 
187, 189,200,201,203, 
207, 228,234, 241, 243, 
etc, etc 

13, 18, 19. 

595, 696, 598, 612, 
617, 622, 625. 

34, 41, 56, 77, 78. 

116, 116, 118, 120, 
121, 140, 144, 152, 
156, 164, 192, 198, 
206, 266, 273, etc 

la, 2b, 3a, 4b, 6a, 6b, 
7a, 7b, 9b, lib, 13a, 
13b, 15a, 16b, 17b, 18a, 
20a, 23a, 24a, 26a, 28b, 
39a, 40a, 42a, 45b, 46a, 
50b, etc, etc 

10, 12, 22, 26, 28, 29, 
33, 36, 37, 38, 40, 41, 
67, 61, 66, 85, 87, 102, 
106, 127, 132, 163, 165, 
156, 168, 172, 176, 178, 
199, 200, 201, 209, 212, 
240, 242, 246, 262, etc, 


Cfharte$ de VAhbay^ de 


(ed. F^rotin) 

Documents dea Arehivea 

de la ehambre dee 

eomptes de Navarre 

(ed. J. A. B r u t a i 1 8, 


Hisloria del reed monas- 

terio de SahaguUy etc. 

(Eomualdo Esca- 

lona, 1732) 

Fuero de Sepaiveda 

(Feliciano Calle- 

jas, 1857) 

Memorial HisL Eap.f 

Vol. I, 

(ed. Acad, fisp., 


27, 33, 34, 41, 42, 53, 
140, 166, 211, 217. 

Lapidario del Bey Al- 

foruo X, Oddiee original 

(ed. Acad. Esp., 


Dotoreade la Santa 

(Laa chert, 1897) 

11, 42, 44, 117, 149. 

Digitized by 




23 (in rjme with van- 
tifmnOf erisUanimfW, pa- 
ponuffio),110, 119,373, 

80d, 206d, 264c 2<S6a, 
301c, 595d, 520b. 663b, 
711d, 838b, 963b, 
lOOOd, 1021c (in aaso- 
nance with deaiefndidOf 
eniremetidOf rremanidojy 
1099d, 1206a, 1216b, 
1328c, 1394d, 1549d, 
1627d, 1689b, 1760d, 
1791d, 1826d, 1877c, 
1998c, 2013d, etc. 

54a, 109d, 206a, 210b, 
211a, 340a, 428d, 449a, 


111c, 227b, 307c 330a, 
334a, 344b, 369d, 394c 
404a, 407a, 484c, 672a, 
681b, 706a, 775a. 

192d, 233d, 306a, 659c 
694d, 707a, 741d, 751a, 
760d, 783d, 842c, 898a. 

3b, 182b, 189b, 208d. 

22d, 55d, 138a, 145a, 
258c 269b, 301a, 313d, 
344b, 414a, 444b, 486d. 

47c 110c 144a. 

FemAn ChtmaU* 


Libre de ApoWmio 

Santa Maria Effipciaqua 
(Barcelona, 1907) 

Sto Domingo de Siloe ^ 
(Fitz-Qerald; all 
other texts from Janer) 




342, 431, 655. 

1 1 77 ( in aaeonance with 
bafaef eabefoe, opeiew.) 

221d, 571a. 

66b, 184b, 211d, 216c 

^ In all cases I use mitmo for mitmoy mitmOf mi9mo$f mumas, and likewise 
mernno for meamoj mcmia, etc. In mwno for B e r o e o I also include mume 
which he uses very frequently for either gender, e. g., San MiUdn 22d, 
145a, 258c ^l^i e^> ^^ ^^ the French forms, I use likewise the 
masculine sing, aocus. for all cases, numbers, and genders. 

Digitized by 




27, 88, 110, 115, 118. 

lb, 15b, 16a, 22b. 

109, 110, 114, 115. 

3a,4b,5b,9b, 13b,18b, 
28b, 37a, 39b, 40a, 43b, 
67b, 62a, 63a, 71b, 75b, 

Chleocidn de Fueros 

(Mufioz y Ro- 
mero, 1847) 

La Chan OoTiquiUa de 


(ed. Gayangofl, 


(First 75 pages) 

In the old Leonese 

texts only mumo 

is foand.^ 

During the xiith and xinth centaries, therefore, the 
prevailing form is mismo. Mesmo is also frequent and an 
archaic meismo is found. 

From the middle of the xivth century mismo gradually 
loses ground in favor of mesmo and by the xvith century 
mesmo is as common if not more so than mismo. 



8, 4, 12, 92, 114, 128, 
256, etc 

376 (in ryme with baa- 

119c, 811g (rymes 
eiima, mima), 1493o, 


xiv-xy centuries 

Juan Ruiz, 

L, B. Amor 

(Dacamin, 1901) 

El Oonde LtMsnor 

(Enust, 1900) 

Dradado de la Doetrina 

Bmadode Palado 

Sem Tob, Prov. Morale$ 

269c, 272c 273d, 278d, 
309c, 311c, 347d, 565c, 

535b, 565d, 896b, 
1196b, 1246b 1334b, 
1342d, I527d. 

71a, 71d, 72a, 173c 
621c 655a. 

^See Staaff, &Md6$urPaneiendiaieeULionaii, {53. 

Digitized by 






106, 129, 170, 206, 

48, 80, 93, 152, 185, 
200, 211, 221. 


2, 29, 37, 39, 42, 43, 
66, 64, 82, 95, 105, 
171,187,199, 203, etc, 

52, 60, 90, 180, 205. 

Martines de 



(Madrid, 1901) 

Oaneionero deAfUMide 


(Cotarelo y Mori, 


Juan de Mena, 



Sanchez, 1804) 

de G6mes Man- 


(Paz 7 Melia, 

1885, Vol. I) 

Claroi Varonea de 

(Madrid, 1789) 

16, 17, 22, 82, 48, 52, 
65, 70, 79, 182, 190, 
250, 251, 259, 290. 

1, 23, 34. 

16, 18, 21. 22, 63, 77, 
106, 112, 113, 214, 
218, 223, 229, 237, 
etc, etc 

11, 67, 76, 91, 96, 107, 
112, 115, 123, 129. 

Oaneionero Inidito de 119. 
Juan Alvarez 
(Madrid, 1901) 

XVI century 


222, 301, 313, 341, Juan del £ncina, 23, 37, 52, 98, 144, 
345, 361, 350. Teatro OmpUto 162, 188, 209, 210, 213, 

(Madrid, 1893) 215, 218, 246 (ryme 


9, 36, 44, 45, 63, 65, Lope de Bueda, 
etc Ohrca 

(Acad. Esp., 1908, 
Vol. I) 

Digitized by 





3b, 9a, 10a, 10b, 13a, 
13b, 18b, 25a, 30a, 41b, 
54b, 55b, 56b, 66a, 67b, 
71a, 78b, etc 

10b, lib, 18b, 26a, 83a, 
39b, 54a, 172b. 

7b, 48b, 49b, 58a,74a, 

37 (rjmes barbarimnOf 
abitmo), 54 (ryme 
abimo)^ 80, etc, etc 


Don QuixoU 

(Facsimile of ed. of 

1605, VoL i) 

Lope de Vega, 

Arcadia Pro$(u y VenoB 

(ed. 1603) 

Santa Teresa de 



(Vol. n, Madrid, B. 

A. R,1879) 

Gaspar Mer- 

c a d e r. 

El Prado de Valencia 

(M^rim^e, Tou- 

loose, 1907) 

Fr. Lais de Gra- 
nada, Obra» 
(Madrid, 1788, Vol. I) 


28b, 30b, 32b, 38a, 39b, 
45b, 46b, 59b, 66a, 68a, 
71b, 74b, etc. 

6a, 6b, 10a, lib, 15a, 
17b, 18b, 22a, 25a, 42b, 
44b, 45a, 47b, 52b, 53b, 
60a, 62b, 72a, 77b, 78b, 
85a, 88b, 92a, 100b, 
106b, 110^ etc, etc 

lb, 2b, 9a, 12b, 13a, 
15b, 38a, 39a, 41a, 42b, 
44a, 47b, 54b, 56a, 60b, 
61b, 84a, 88a, etc. 

19, 20, 25, 27, 33, 40, 
44, 52, 125, 173, etc., 

From the middle of the xvth to the end of the xvitb 
century the forms mwnoy mesmo are used side by side in 
literature, the same author (e. g., Cervantes, Juan 
del Encina) using both forms with no decided prefer- 
ence for either. Generally, however, there seems to be a 
slight preference for mesmo thruout the xvth and xvith 
centuries, and even as late as 1626, this form is preferred 
by the grammarian Gonzalo Correas.^ 

By the end of the xviith century, however, mismo had 
become the prevailing literary form, and from the b^inning 

^ArU Orande de la Lengua CkutelUma (ed. Vifiaza) page 101. Fifty 
jears before, C^sar Oadin( Te$oro de lae lenguae Eepanola y Frameeta^ 
J 575, Vol. I, col. 667) gives for Frencb me&me Spaoish mumo and mitmo. 


Digitized by 




of the xviiith century it has been the exclusive form, while 
rnesmo has been relegated to the dialects. 

XVII century 




10, 19, 32, 39, 50, 56, 

Francisco de 

32, 42, 47. 

58, 63, etc., etc. 

Quevedo VillegaB, 

Obras, Vol, ra 


Guerra, 1907) 

420, 608, 663, 1191, 



1244, 1497, 1557 (ryme 

El Mdgico Prodigioao 

avismo), 1628 (ryme 


amsmo), 1740, 2304, 


2557, 2824 (ryme abis- 
mo)y 3075, 3178, etc. 

(c) meesmo, mmrrvo 

For Spanish, properly speaking, I have no examples of 
meesmo or miismo, tho it is likely that these forms also 
existed in the xith and xiith centuries by the side of 
meismo. At least a form mee»mo must have existed, an old 
Hispanic form which as I shall show later, must be the 
source of nieamo. In old Portuguese, however, the old 
Hispanic meesmo is found, e. g., Textes Portugais du XlVe 
si^de (ed. Cornu, Rcm.y xi, 356-390), 364, 366, 372, 
379. This form gave regularly the modem Portuguese 
mesmo. In old Galician, I have not only found a form 
meesmOy but also a form mUsmo, used in the same text, 
evident proof that they are of independent development. 
Examples: Fueroa Munieipales de SarUiago {e(\. Antonio 
L. Ferreiro, 1895) (xiiith century), miwmo, 277, 279, 
280, 356; Ordnica Troy ana (ed. M. R. Rodrfguez, 
1900) (xivth century), miimoy i 120, 129, 148, ii 53, 
226 ; rmemx), Ibid., i 93, 101, 294, 310, etc., n 19, 49, 
.114, 159, 169, 163, 178, 234, etc. 

Digitized by 



These two old Gralioian forms miismo, meesmo must be 
considered independent forms^ the first another form of the 
old Spanish meismo and probably directly developed from it, 
while the second is the same as the old Portuguese form 
meesmo above mentioned^ and which probably also existed 
in old Spanish. The double forms exist, as will be seen 
later, in Galician, Spanish, French and Proven9al. 


Tab Ebench Forms 

The important French forms are the following : mediamey 
meisme, meime, mismey mime; medeame, meesmey mernncy meme; 

(a) medismey meismey meime: medesmey meeame 

During the old French period (xi-xni centuries) all 
these forms occur and also miame. By far the prevailing 
form is mdsme. It is safe to say that ninety per cent, of the 
total number of the various forms is meisme. Meesme is not 
frequent Mediame and medea^/ne are both rare and found 
only in the xi-xu centuries. 

A fairly complete history of these forms in the important 
works of the xi-xii centuries is the following : ' 

xi-xii centuries 

medume medetme 

24c, 67d, 87b *A grant LaVU de 8l Alexis 

dud mUr-4a mw« eham (ed. Paris-Ldo- 
mMme:' (Asson. pei- pold, 1887) 

^I inclode such orthographies as melAtame, methinne^ metkemne in medirnne^ 
mkUmu, For seTeral veiy rare and cnrions forms see (e) note. 

' In all cases (except the prose texts, where tn&mney meime are established 
for the old French period thro the eyidence of the texts in verse), the 
forms can be controlled with certainty thro meter and assonance or ryme. 

Digitized by 




irine, mkadidefavoglidey 
Mdtne), 108d (AasoD. 
ledice, riches, haiUde, 
graniut), 123e (Aason. 
servisCy vide, replendide, 


Librt Paalmonemf 

Venio Anliqua ChlHea ^ 

(ed. Fr. Michel, 


(ed. Mei8ter,1877) 

83, 98, 128, 132, 134, 
190, 206, 220, etc 

78 (13). 

meumef meune^ 
204 ^Nuncierent voa tu 
paroles mdmnes* (As- 
8on. /etiie, mte, dive, 
etc.) f 692 'AUrebalaiUe 
lur livresdemeimn^ (As' 
son. oetre, dire, riches, 
nue, vie, etc), 1036, 
1644 (A88on.), 2315, 
2343, etc. 

139 *Par U mien «»- 
denire, — po esf meitmes 
J>««/', 157, 660,769. 

203 *Dd aieni 

nos poons hien paier,' 

371, 641, 1161, 2617. 

16, 28, 76, 103, 117, 

132, 133, 412, etc; 

mtime, 64, 98, 117, 
220, 264, etc 

xi-xn centunes 

La Chanson de Boland 
(ed. Stengel, 1900) 

Karlsdes Qrossen 


(ed. Eoscbwitz, 


Cowronnimeni Loots 

(ed. Langlois, 


Les Quatre Livres des 


(ed. Le Boux De 

Lincy, 1841) 

^ In these texts meesne and meisme also occur, see meetme, nuXsme, 

* The fall of s began in the xnth century, see (b) . The cases of iiMfiiis 

will be so indicated in each text, the form mtisme is otherwise the form 


Digitized by 




33, 43. 

4 (9), 34 (9). 

497, 665, 5954, 6148, 
7267, 9932, etc 

3435, 3612, 15300, 
15124, 17531, etc 

1552 (Amoo, vie, mUf 
etc); meme 821 (As- 
8on. aofterrine, etc), 

1539, 2139 ;main< 610, 
692, 1553, 2962, etc 

5, 6, 13, 15, 20, 24, 
27, 34, 38, 41, 43, 46, 
52, 55, 62, 64, 66, 67, 
68, 70, 71, 73, 75, etc, 

236 * Qiu Deus meume$ 
(^ :' 2110, 2526. [Cf. 
also ii«:8 97, 997]. 

480, 2083, 2100 (Byrne 
Jmiaume), 2475, 2779 
(Bjme abitme), 

670, 792, 2312, 4011, 
7279 (AflsoD. ire, vive, 
mfe,etc), 7546, 8087, 

3641, mnme 599(Ryme 

LibriPtalmontm, Venio 

AnHqua OaUiea 

(op. at.) 

ChrfardPBaUer(op. eiL) 

Wace, Bcmande Bou 
(ed. Andresen, 

LeBomande Thibes 
(ed. Constans, 

Benoit, Bomande 

Trcie (ed. Con- 
stans, 1904-1907) 

(ed. O.Paris, 1899) 

Le$ NarbonmaU 
(ed.Sachier, 1898) 

LiDiaioge Oregoire 


(ed. Foe rater, 


Philippe de Thaun, 


(ed. Walberg, 


Qaillaume Le 

Clerc, BetUaire 

(ed. Beinsch, 1892) 

Baoul deOoambrai 

(ed. Meyer-Long- 

noD, 1882) 

fi^al, Le Boman de 

(ed. Maret, 1903) 

97, 156 (see also me- 


33(3), 61 (9), etc 

2792 CTon con meet- 
mes se ai»ement anai^). 

Digitized by 




metame, meUme 

1904, 1954, 1965, 4143 

383, 391, 807, 1895, 

1994, 2013, 3427 (Ab- 

8on. MtTowine, m«, mt«, 

etc.), 3681, 3704, 4836, 


1027, 1142, 3526. 

8, CLXXXVi 8 
(Bjines 9aMUiitm€t ds' 

coLXin 11. 
5, 11, 58. 

159, 1364, 1596, 1873, 
7512, 7565, etc. 

928, 1790. 

5210, 5230. 

51, 437, 752, 1804, 
2149 (Byrne hanUime), 
4085 (Bjme sfdntU- 
mes), 5035 (Byrne Mm- 


(ed. Michelant- 

Meyer, 1894) 

Le Moniage OuUUmme 
(ed. Cloetta, 1906) 

LaVie deSL QiUu 

(ed. Parifl-BoB, 


lARomams de Oariti et 

Miaertre (ed. Van 

Ham el, 1885) 

1. OariU 

2. Miaerere 

La Vision de Tondale 

(ed. Friedel- 
K. Meyer, (1907) 


(ed. Hartnaoke- 

Basch-W i e n b e c k, 


(ed. Jacques S. 
de Grave, 1891) 

Roman de la Boae oi^ de 

OuiUavme de Dole 
(ed. Servois, 1893) 

Robert le Diable 
(ed. Loseth, 1903) 

17^ * Or oiia que eel jor 
fneeame^ (Byrne ba»- 
teame), 3999 (Byrne 
aoeame)f 6941. 

ocxvn 1 (Byrnes 
me, baieame^ aeheame) 

2423 (Byrne eame). 

578 (Byme/«rm«), 958 
(Byrne aeeame), 5211. 

3422 (Byrne e8m«). 

Digitized by 




meiame, meUme 

1777, 2790 (Ryme 
abume), 2792, 4746, 
5379, etc. 

341, 394, 414, 709, 
1137 (Rjine vomes), 
1258, etc 

3, 15, 43, 56, 57, 62, 
72, 73, 79, 85, 94, 114, 
125, etc., etc. (For 
cmsee in Ejme cf. Fa- 
bles 53 (54), mnane : 

1839, 2288, 2958, 3533 
(Rjme 2ime), 4993, 
5996, etc. 
1197, 1792. 


Chretien de 

Tro jes 

(ed. Foe rater) 

Yvain (1891) 

Erec und Enide (1896) 

Marie de France, 


(ed. Warnke, 1900) 

(References are made 

to page) 

Gantier d'Arras 

(ed. Loseth, 1890) 


Ille et Oaleron 

Thus it is seen that medesme, meesme are rare during the 
old French of the xi-xii centuries^ while meisme (medisme 
in the Alexis) is the r^ular and most common form. During 
the xiuth century, the forms meisme, meime are practically 
the only forms used. Misme, mime, m^esms, mem^e, which are 
found also in old French, will be treated later. 

meime,^ 304, 342, 379, 

32 (all), 136 (Boul), 
3749 (2 M.S.) 

XIII century 

Vie de SL Auban 
(ed. Atkinson, 

Enhances Vivien^ 

4 M. 8. S. 

(ed. Wohlund- 

Feilitzen, 1895) 

^ In this text the form is meime8 for all cases and genders. Mimies is 
likewise used in St. Bernard, and nuHmnes in the Aymeri de Narhonne, 

Digitized by 



AUSBLIO u. xspnrcMU 

995, 3619, 4806, 5689. 

287, 2291, 
8833, 6400. 


2464 (Amod. prtMt, 
mUy richer, etc), 4789, 
(Aflson. marie, eterient, 
eonqui$»e, etc ). 
540, 1498, 1558, 4190, 

21 (Bjme redeimM), 
29, 36, 46, 146, 236, 
270, 287. 

n 997 (M. S. N, meei- 
me)j IX 439, iz 622, 
XI 1936, xnr 175, xvi 
1475, etc, etc 
1861, 4196, 4819, 5809 
(Bjme fMmUme), 7069 
(Ryme prtm«t), 8847 
(Rjme deimeB), Mei^ 
met 3021, 4935, 10026, 
10808, 12088, 12231, 

349, 723, 2177, 3041, 

1320, 2542. (Aflson. 
/e, guvn^e9, rtmne, 
etc), 2798. 

695 (10) [M. S. Arse- 
nal], 789 [M. S. Bibl. 
Imp.], 1219 (12), 

Servts vou j£etM 

(ed. Stengel, 1903) 

Fiorenee de Borne 

(ed. Wallens- 

kdld, ) 


(ed. Norman- 

Raynaad, 1877) 

Li ChevaUen asdeut 


(ed. Foerster, 



QedidUe (ed. Krest- 

ner, 1885) 

(Beferenoes are to 

Le Soman de Benart 

(ed. Martin, 1882- 


VEetoirt de la Ouerre 


(ed. Paris, 1897) 

Aymeri de Narbonne 
(ed. Demaison, 


La Mart Aymeri de 


(ed. J. C. du Pare, 


Alexandre Le Orand 

(ed.P. Meyer, 1886) 

Digitized by 




meHame, tM^hne 

72, 358, 509, 2813, 
2972, 3183. 


7, 20, «1, 67, 97, 112, 
146, 154, 194, etc 

44, 46, 102, 104, 220, 
etc, etc 

Hwm (MM Auvergne 
(ed. Stengel, 1908) 

Adenet de Bois, 

Berte aua grana pUa 
(ed. Scheler, 1874) 

Auoamnet NieoUUe 
(edSuchier, 1903) 

Li Hyttore de JuUua 


(ed. Set tegast, 


Villehardoain, Con" 

quite de OonetaniinopU 

( Wailly, 


meeame [M. S. de 

Venice] 268. 
meeme 9548, 10008. 

(b) mismej mimej mesme, meme 

All these fonns are found in the old French period. We 
have already observed in (a) how mmme and Toeime are 
frequently found side by side, and the rymes, such as meisme: 
primes {L^Estaire de la Ouerre Sainte 7069), meisme : veimea 
{Ereo xmd Enide 1138), etc., show that many a xiith and 
xmth century meisme was pronounced without the 8. The 
8 began to fell in the xiith century and probably earlier and 
must have been very frequent in the xiiith. 

(1) The contracted forms mime, misme < meisme < medis- 
me (see III) occur very early : 

VEscoufle (op. eft.), misme, ^Sdchiez qn^U mismes departist^ 

Les Enfances Vivien (pp. cit.) M. S. de Boul, misme 2904. 

Li Sermont St. Bernard (Foerster) mismes, 5, 7, 17, 18, 
21, 22, 23, 25, 26, 42, 43, 44, 49, 51, 52, 53, 55, etc., etc. 
(The exclusive form.) 

Digitized by 



In literature I have found misme as late as the xrvth 
century, Miracles Vol. ii (ed. Paris — Robert), xv 691 : 

^ Ayje mart mon enfant je mismea f (Ryme haiUismes). 

The orthography mime is found as early as the xiith 
century, e. g., Fragment de Moralitis sur Job (in Quaire 
Livres des Rois, op. eU.), 441, 442, 449, 450, 460, 466, 
468, 471, 472, etc. 

(2) Memey mesme < mee«me < m^edesme (see III) are also 
found since the xuth century : 

Simwnd de Freisne (ed. Matzke, 1909), mesmey S. G, 
1693; Le Livre des Psaumes (Eadwin M. 8. ed. Michel, 
1876), m£smey 292. By the xivth century mesme is very 
frequent The orthography m>em£ is also as old as the xnth 
century : Simund de FreisnCy R. Ph., 499 ' Ewe ad m,emes la 
manere;^ La Vie de St. Edmund Le Rei (ed. Ravenel, 
1906), 3001, ^ Par eks m^mes simt sanies.' ^ 

(c) The xjvth century forms. 

By the b^inning of the xivth century an important new 
form appears derived from m^lsm^ by the shift of the accent 
to the more sonorous vowel, mdsm^.^ The xivth century 

^ Several rare and obecore cases are found in old French. In the form 
maismeB given by G o d e ff r o j, at may be et or e, so that the difficulty 
may be only orthographical. On the other hand it can be phonetically 
derived from maxime with the adverbial 8 added. Of the other forms 
given by Godeffroy, I have no examples of ndeme^ moiimey moimey 
moieme. The oi forms may be due to progressive assimilation from tNoi, 
meimeisme'^moimdmni'^fnoimoimnef etc On the other hand if the et 
became monosyllabic early, the whole change may be regular, ei'^oi. 
In the dialectic muamuemne {Adas Ling, de la France, Carte 832. ), we may 
have a continuation of either of these developments. The forms maemmes 
(Orson de Beauvais, op. dL, 378), meammes (Ibid,, 1023) may also present 
difficulties which are merely orthographical. 

'The form is as old as the xuth century, e. g., Simund de FVeisne (op. 
eU,), R. PA., 1371 *Seii de tn^mes la manere* (7 syll.), but it is not 
frequent until the zivth century. 

Digitized by 




fonns are meisme (which lives to the xvth century) and 
mernne, mesme * (derived from meesme and both rare before the 
xrvth century). In the texts in verse (and all cases can 
be controlled) the forms meisme^ memne are more frequent 
and in the prose texts mesme is perhaps the most frequent. 

metsme ' 
VI 27. 

I 427, nr 471, x 
(W7, XVI 419, etc 

J. R N, 1066, 
2601, 3636, 3714, 

I 344, u 374, m Miradea dt No$ire I 239, m 61, 192, 

196, IV 12, 106, Dame 268, iv, 915, 107, 

336, V 48, 313. (Par it- 164, 202, 236, 

Robert) 353, v 39, vi 61, 

(Bef. are to Vol. 145, 155. 

and page) 


(ed. Apfel- 
stedt, 1881) 86. 
[The form tneimne which b verj 
frequent, e. g., 1, 12, 34, 64, 67, 
74, may be meinne or trmtme. The 
work 18 in proae.] 

1303, 6446. 

R n7 389. 

Chronique MHri- 
qwt dt Oodeffroy 

de Parit 

(ed. B u c h o n, 


lA ItomanB de 

Bauduin de 8e- 

(ed. Valen- 


de Mac hot, 

Oeuvres (ed. 


1908), Vol. I 

^ The fall of $ may hare been general in all these forms, tho the ortho- 
graphy preeerres it to the xvnith century. "^ 

Digitized by 




499, 8647 (Bjme 
ondmes), 12436 

4647, 7866. 

Oh.L.Eti, 1046, 
4669 (Bjme vin- 


183, 187. 

I 13, n 10, 42, 
in 64, 71, 100. 
Ch. L. Est 439, 
609, 1336, 1661,1 
2849, 2966, 4699, 
4676, 4728, 4876, 


MeUador (ed« 

L o n g n o n, 


Le Boman de la 

Dame a la Ly^ 

oom«, etc. 
(ed. Qenn- 
rich, 1908) 
Otiwru OompUUi 
(ed. Baynaad, 


Vol. m (pages) 

VoL vm (pages) 

Vol. IX {Mtrair 

de Mariage) 

Nicole Bo- 
zo n. Conies M<h 
raUsh (Smith- 
Meyer, 1879) 

Christine de 

P i 8 a D, 

Oeuvres PoHiguee 

(ed. M. Bo 7, 



197, 278. 


4896, 4897, 6381, 

7902, 8271, 8626, 


26, 67, 66, 70, 

81, 102, etc., etc 

m 24, 41, 92, 

Thus we see that both meisme and mQsme last till the xvth 
oentaiy. In the xvth century a new and important 
phenomenon takes place. The form mQsme < meisme, with 

' ^^ Que de eelle matiere nmsme 

Selon que scubiUUU aime,^* 
] The ei probablj represents here a close f. The s also is silent, see p. 371. 

Digitized by 



its dipthongal ei or probably a close and long e, &lls together 
in sound with mesme (with a close and long e also, partially 
due to the fall of a) < meesme. -Christine de Pisan, as 
we have seen, uses meisme : aimej just as Bernard de 
Menthon uses meigme : deame (Henri Chatelain, 
Recherches mr le vera frangaia an XV* SiMe, Paris, 1908, 
page 27). ifeisme, therefore, came to be pronounced 
exactly like meame, since Ron sard (see b^low) also has 
such rymes as meame : aime. When the two forms came to 
have the same pronunciation, only one orthography was 
necessary, hence meame became the regular literary form after 
the xvth century.^ 

(d) Since the xvth century. 

By the middle of the xvth century the regular literary 
form in French is m^eame and this is the modem mhne. 
Jfe^Tne is the exclusive form in Guiliaume Alexis (ed. 
Piaget-Picot); Pierre Pathelin {ei. Fournier, 1872); 
Fran9ois Villon (ed. Von Wurzbach, 1903); 
Clement Marot (ed. Scheuring, 1870) who rymes 
meame: bUmey ii 88; Marguerite de Navarre (ed. 
Le franc, 1896); Ronsard(ed. Blanchemain, 1852) 
who rymes meame : aime (see above) ; etc., etc. 

In the dialects, however, the old French miame still lives. 
In the AUaa Linguiatique de la France (op. dt.), I notice 
the following forms: mlm in Lorraine (cf. St. Bernard 
miamea)f Haut-Savoy; mime in Saone, Loire; mlmU in 
Suisse, Fribourg. 

We have in French the double development just as in 
Spanish, but in Spanish the i form became the literary 
preference and the e form was relegated to the dialects, while 

1 The fall of $ was by this time probablj general, see (b) and the rymes 
cited in (o) and (d). 

Digitized by 




in French exactly the opposite is the case. Portuguese, 
also, seems to have preferred the e form from the 


Resume and Conclusions 

The history of the Spanish and French forms as sup- 
ported by our materials, is the following : * 




Leoneee mumo 







Galician f meeemo, metmo 
\mtimno^ mitmo 




f medu 
\ met 

J medeanef meemne 
\ metsme, meime 


f meU 
I men 


m/tHtmef mQ/une 
(both veiy rare) 





j mes 
( mimn 

i ^^* 
I mesm 

< migmo < mhme 


^ I have no complete data for Proven9al bat in the old language the 
doable development is found jast as in Spanish, Gkdician and French. 
There are foand mem^ medipSf meime, meipme and meteSf medee, medeame, 
meemne, meepme, etc., see L e ▼ 7, Prov. SuppL Worterbuch, «. v, 

* I include in this resume all the important forms. The general lists 
give an account of all the forms. The prevailing form is underscored. 

Digitized by 



JUsmo, therefore, cannot be derived from mesmo, nor 
mesme from meisme. We have to do, in my opinion, with 
two words of independent origin and development, which as 
I have shown lived side by side in the literary language for 
six centuries in Spanish and five in French. The Spanish 
forms meismo, mismo must be placed with the old French 
medUmCf meisme, meime, misme, old Galician miismo, Leonese 
mismo, while mesmo belongs with old French medesme, 
meemne, mesme (now m^ie), old Portuguese m^eemo, mesmo. 
For the first forms we must suppose a Vulgar Latin form 
with a long i, while the last are r^ularly developed from 
the form with the short i. 

For all the Hispanic forms we must also believe in a 
prefix med- instead of the regular met-. The t was probably 
treated as final and became d in Spain, a change otherwise 
very frequent in Vulgar Latin.^ Why the t in this prefix 
should remain t in Gallic Latin and change to d in the Latin 
of Spain is not clear, but there is evidence which seems to 
show that this is actually the case, e. g., ^per semed ipsum^ 
(Priebsch, AUsp. Gl. ZRPh., xix, 8), but in Gallic 
Latin, ^quid sint de semei ipsis' {Dialoge Oregoire Lo 
papey (Foerster, 1876), 87), ^vel per memetipmm dedici' 
{Ibid., 7), ^apud semetipsos habuervmt^ {Ibid., 27), etc. 

The following, I believe, is the etymological history of 
the Spanish and French forms : 

^See Schachardt, VoeaUmua des Vulgarlaieins, i, 118-122, Lind- 
say, Latin L<mguage, 128. 

Digitized by 



{old O&lic. muiimo > muMo 
Leoneee mtMiio 
Sp. mitmo 

I f meime 

Valg. Lat METiPSlicu > old Fr. meditme '^meigmf. > •< mimne > mime 
7^ I meia 

Latin mbtifsImu(m) > old French medeame^meemu > mesme > mSme 

meime (xiv oent ) 

.\ . 

Hiflpftnic Vulg. Ltt. MBDiFsbcu > old Portogueee, *old Spanish 

and Gkdidan muamo > metmo • 


Digitized by 






It probably does not often happen that a worker in 
Latin and Greek addresses a body of workers in the 
modem languages, or the converse.^ But there is nothing 
unnatural in such a proceeding, and it ought indeed to 
be a common thing. We of the classics and you of the 
modem languages have the same convictions to maintain 
in the scheme of education, — first the conviction of the 
charm and civilizing power of great literature, and, second, 
the conviction of the interest and educational efficiency of 
literary-historical and linguistic science. The difference 
between us is purely one of chronol<^. We proceed by 
identical methods. We cultivate the same great field, 
and our respective holdings in that field overlap. We 
are natural friends, if either party has a friend. Our 
interests, in their large and final bearings, are identical. 
Classical studies cannot really fiourish in a university 
in which they are looked upon with hostility by the 
teachers of modem languages. But neither will the study 
of modem languages, beyond the strictly vocational ideal, 
flourish permanently in any atmosphere in which, for 
any reason, classical studies are asphyxiated. 

*The opportunity to do this w«8 given me at the meeting of the 
Modern Language Association in New York, December, 1910. 

By an error, the last sentence of the first paragraph was assigned 
in the New York Evening Post of Jan. 6 to the Hon. Edwin M. 
Shepard, who spoke to the same effect, but with the greater authority 
of an unprejudiced man of affairs, on the evening foUowing. 
10 379 

Digitized by 



The matter which I have to discuss today touches our 
cammon interests on the scientific aide. It has to do with 
the teaching of syntax. Its importance, accordingly, is 
not only theoretical, but practical ; for the study of syntax 
necessarily plays a large part in the early stages of the 
learning of any language. 

For the young student, and often for the teacher, the 
name given to a construction in the grammar which he 
uses determines largely his conception of that construction 
and his feeling for it. It is therefore of consequence 
that the name of each construction should be as exact a 
description as possible of its force. The man who frames 
a working name that is a more perfect description of the 
force of a given construction than any existing before is 
not only making the construction more intelligible to the 
student, but is also providing a more practical tool for daily 
class-room work. We must never say that intelligence 
can go no farther, and that grammatical terminology is 
now fixed for all time. But, on the other hand, the 
same impulse which leads individual grammarians to 
suggest new names may well lead us occasionally to take 
counsel together and see if, among names suggested, or 
that may be suggested, we cannot find one upon which 
we may agree. In this way we might at least clear tKe 
field for a fresh start, with a better chance thereafter of 
cencentration of attention upon such terms as may still 
prove unsatisfactory. 

The present state of affairs, at any rate, is bad. In 
the desire for betterment, we have reached a multiplicity 
of terms, even for grammatical relations about the nature 
of which there is no difference of opinion, — e. g., the con- 

Digitized by 



structions which every one will recognize under the names 
predicate noun or adjective, direct and indirect object, 
predicate object. For each of these there are many names 
in our English grammars of today ; and indeed so great a 
variation of terminology has nowhere else come into 
existence as in the grammar of our mother tongue. The 
result is confusing to the student as he changes books 
in passing from year to year, or perhaps from school to 
school. It is confusing even to the teacher, since he 
often has to deal with a number of students trained to 
a different terminology from that of the rest of the 
class, or even to change his own terminology as one pub- 
lishing house after another gets the upper hand in the 
struggle for the sale of books. ^ 

*It may here be added that *a French Committee of Fifteen 
began work upon the nomenclature of French grammar in 1900, 
making reports in 1907 and 1909 (discussed by M. F4lix Weill in the 
BtUl, Offioiel de la 8ooi^t4 Natumdle dea Professeura Francois en 
Amerique, May, 1910). The Minister of Public Instruction, M. 
Gaston Doumergue, published an Arrets July 25, 1910, and an 
official Nouvelle Nomenclature Grammaticale September 28. An 
English Joint Committee upon Grammatical Terminology, appointed 
in Oct., 1908, reported in 1910 upon a terminology for Eng^h, 
German, French, Latin, and Greek. I gave a paper on Conflicting 
Terminology for IdentuxU Conceptions in the Orammar of Indo- 
European Languages at the Christmas meeting of the American 
Association for the Advancement of Science in 1909, and another 
in the same week before the American Philological Association 
(the kttter printed in abstract in Vol. 40 of the Proceedings). 
These two papers dwelt upon the root of the matter, doubtless 
feU;» but not spoken of, by the writers of the English Beport, 
namely the large amount of common inkerita^noe in the languages 
of our family. I also offered a paper entitled The Waste Involved 
in the Use of a Conflicting Terminology in School Orammars of 
Various Languages, for the meeting of the Superintendence Section 
of the National Education Association in February, 1910, but too 
late to have room found for it upon the programme. In May, 1910, 

Digitized by 



The principle of namiBg ought to be simple. A gram- 
matical term should be as exact a description as possible 
of the essential idea conveyed. 

The first part of this statement is a requirement, 
the second a limitation. The description must be exact 
Final satisfaction is not to be obtained by inexactness 
agreed upon. Sometime, somebody will not agree. But, 
on the other hand, whatever goes beyond the strictly 
essential goes too far. Let me illustrate these two points- 

If an exact name is given to each construction, then 
such constructions as possesses something in common 
will be foimd to show that common something in 
their names, while the differences among them will 
also appear in corresponding differences in the names. 
If either side is lacking, one or another of these 
names is imperfect, if not all. Thus, in " he is 
king " and " he is good,'' the relation of the last words 
to the rest is the same. If, then, the former is called, 
as in some English grammars, an "attributive comple- 
ment," then the latter must be likewise called an 
" attributive complement," since it is also both attributive 
and complementary. So it is in fact called in a number 
of grammars. But the names fail, on the other hand, 
to bring out the difference between the two. To accom- 
plish this, we should have to say " attributive comple- 
mentary noun," and " attributive complementary adjee- 

Professor D5rr, of Frankfurt a. M., read a paper on Vereinfaohung 
der grammatischen Terminologie at the XIV. Tagung dee allge- 
meinen deutschen Neuphilologen-Verbandes in Ziirich (published in 
the Bericht, 1911, Carl Meyer, Hannover). In June, 1910, Professor 
C. R. Rounds, of the State Normal School in Whitewater, Wis., 
published in the Educational Review a paper on The Varying 
Bystema of Nomenclature in Use in our Tewta in Bnglieh Orammar. 
There thus appears to be a wide-spread sense of the need of reform. 

Digitized by 



tive." But even this would etiU leave out what is the 
most important feature of the oonstruction, namely that 
the noun or the adjective forms a part of that which 
is predicated. It is, to be sure, complementary, but it 
is complementary in the predicative way. We must 
then add to each the word " predicative '* or " predicate," 
and so get the heavy names " predicative attributive 
complementary noun " and " predicative attributive com- 
plementary adjective." Obviously this will not do at all. 
It is exact, but it goes beyond what is essential. It is 
true that the noim and the adjective have in this con- 
struction a common function, namely that both are 
attributive. But this is a fact which should be pointed 
out elsewhere, and at a relatively advanced stage, not in 
the working name. It is also true that whatever is 
predicative is necessarily complementary, since it fills 
out an incomplete idea. But the same reasoning would 
make it necessary to call every direct object an " object 
complement" or "objective complement," as, indeed, 
some grammars do call it. We must then subtract the 
two words with which we began, — " attribute " and 
"complement," — as not essential. This leaves us the 
short but practically sufficient names " predicate noun " 
and " predicate adjective," — ^names which exhibit at once 
the point of similarity and the point of difference 
between the two functions. They have also the merit 
of being as simple as the facts allow. And, finally, they 
have the advantage of being already familiar. 

In the terms criticized, the fault lay in an unnecessary 
building up of the amount of implication covered by 
the name, to the exclusion of vital characteristics. 

It may be feared that exactness of terminology will 
lead to an increase in the number of terms used. The 

Digitized by 



opposite is true. An illustration may be given from Latin. 
Some of our grammars have the terms " genitive or 
ablative of quality," '* descriptive adjective," " relative 
clause of characteristic," and " descriptive cum-dause of 
situation," the last being taken from my own writings. 
But the relative clause which is in mind very oftai 
expresses, not a permanent characteristic, but a purely 
temporary ccmdition, lite " worn-out," " unable to bear 
arms," etc The two kinds stand to each other the 
adjectives magnanimus, " hi^-minded," and fessus, 
" tired." Both of theee describe; and " descriptive " is 
therefore the proper word by which to express their 
office. But, again, the genitive or ablative of the c<m- 
struction under examination likewise describes. MagrU 
animi means the same thing as magnanimus. Th^o. we 
should say "descriptive genitive or ablative." In coDr 
feequence we should have the terms " descriptive adjective," 
" descriptive genitive or ablative," " descriptive relative 
clause," and " descriptive cwm-clause of situation." By 
using these thoroughly simple names, which go just 
far enough and not too far, we shall be using one 
word where before we were using four, — at the same 
time bringing out, instead of missing, the point of 
essential similarity. Bennett, in his recent Syntax of 
Early Latin, has helped towards this simplification by 
adopting my name " descriptive " for the relative clause, 
instead of the earlier " clause of characteristic," which 
had been generally adopted in this country from Green- 
ough's terminology, and has been passing of late into 
grammars of the Eomanoe languages. 

So much, briefly, to illustrate differences existing 
within grammars of the same language, and where there 
is essential agreement about the nature of the construc- 

Digitized by 



tions. Of course a eimilar trouble is likely to exist 
where a student passes from one language to another. For 
the predicate, for the direct object, etc, etc., he may have 
to give different names as he passes from English 
to French, or from French to Latin, or vice versa. This 
is certainly not what is coming to be known in business 
as " scientific management." It involves great waste. We 
ought so to arrange our work that the definition for a 
given relation learned by the student in his first grammar 
shall serve him for that same relation to the end, no 
matter how many languages he takes up. 

Since the first grammar studied in English-speaking 
countries is that of our own tongue, it follows that, for us, 
the basis for the terminology of all that is common to the 
languages studied in our schools shoidd be the terminology 
of English grammar. In general, whatever is the best 
description for a given construction in English will be 
the best description for the same construction in any 
language. But it may occasionally happen that, for 
English, either of two terms would be satisfactory, 
while one would be distinctly better than the other 
for French, German, etc. In that case, the term of 
wider applicability should be chosen for English. In 
other words, in any movement toward improvement, the 
terminology of English grammar ought to be studied with 
a view to usefulness for other languages also. It is also 
desirable that, ultimately, the nomenclature of different 
nationalities should, for identical phenomena, correspond. 
It would be better, e. g., that a more advanced stud^it 
who passes from an English grammar of French to a 
French grammar of French should find corresponding, 
not different, terms. And indeed a resolution looking 
to the appointment of an international committee to bring 

Digitized by 



about an intematianal grammatical terminology has 
already been passed in Paris, April, 1909, by the Congres 
International de la Societfi des Profeeeeurs de Langues 

We have been speaking of constructions about the 
nature of which there is essential agreement of opinion. 
But one also encounters differences of a much more per- 
plexing kind, — differences of conception, as well as of 
nam^e. This occurs on the largest scale in the treatment 
of the moods. My own interest lies no more in this 
field than in that of the cases, or of the general relations 
of the sentence. But I want to present today, not merely 
criticism, but a definite body of suggestion, and I shaU 
accordingly attack this, the most difficult of all the fields, 
and the one in wl^ich our work is at present most unsatis- 
factory. It plays a relatively small part in the study of 
English, and perhaps only the more advanced manuals 
should go beyond a mere €rtatement of the forces of the 
English auxiliaries, and of the fact that the subjunctive 
is also familiarly used, with forces corresponding to two 
of them. But it plays a larger part in the treatment 
of German, and a distinctly large one in the treatment 
of French, Italian, Spanish, Latin and Greek. 

N"ow some of the French grammars, for example, make 
the idea of dependency to be the ultimate ground of the 
mood for all French subjunctives, others the idea of un- 
certainty, others the idea of sulbjectivity, others the idea 
of conception, others the idea of non-reality, and so on; 
while still others combine these ideas in various mixtures. 
A change of the grammar used for a given language is 
therefore likely to demand a fundamental change of con- 

The case is still worse as the student passes from one 

Digitized by 



language to another. The prevailing conception is that 
each language has its own individual syntax. Thus a 
well-known book upon the French subjunctive says, " The 
Latin subjunctive . . . affords no real clew to the actual 
use of the FrencL On the contrary, reference to it 
merely confuses the student" And, again, " First, let 
it be understood that the French subjunctive mood bears 
little resemblance to the moods in Qerman and English 
which are called by the same name." If this is true, 
let me say in paesing, I have been very much at fault, 
for I have often told my students that the best way to 
get a sound feeling for the mass of Latin subjunctive 
uses was to read French, Shakespeare, and the English 

The teaching of the schools naturally conforms to the 
prevailing attitude of the grammars. Thus for the sub- 
junctive after words meaning "before" or "until," as 
seen in " Here will I stand till Caesar pass along," said 
by Artemidorus in the throng in Shakespeare's Jvlvus 
CcBsaVy 2, 3, 11, one of my children has had to learn 
three different explanations for three languages, which 
he is studying in the same school. For Latin, using the 
Hale-Buck Grammar, he learned that the subjunctive 
after words meaning "before" or "until" expresses 
anticipation, expectation, — a mere looking forward to an 
act as coming. Li his Greek book, he learned that the 
subjunctive is used after words meaning "before" or 
"until " because the reference is to the future, and all 
future time is indefinite, and the mood of indefiniteness 
is the subjunctive. In his scheme for Frenc^h, he learned 
that the French subjunctive expresses dependency, and 
that the ultimate reason for its use after words meaning 
" before " or " until " is that the clauses are dependent. 

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If he had been studying Gterman at the same time, he 
would probably have learned that the subjunctive, when 
used after words meaning " before " or " until," expresses 
thought as against reality. And if he had gone on to 
the study of English syntax, he might have learned, 
in an English text-book republished and used in this 
country, that the subjunctive in " till Caesar pass along " 
was used because the idea to be expressed was that of 
subjective assertion. Here are five different explana- 
tions, which would have to be given in five different 
rooms, perhaps in one corridor, for the subjunctive after 
the idea " before " or " until," — anticipation, indefinite- 
ness, dependency, thought, subjective assertion. I am 
a seasoned student of language; but I confess that my 
memory would be strained in having to produce these 
different explanations, each in its appropriate room. I 
am much afraid that I might produce the German 
explanation in the French room, or the English explana- 
tion in the Latin room. Further than this, I should 
give my explanations, even if I could memorize them, 
in a half-hearted way. For I remember that, even for 
any of these languages taken by itself, different grammars 
give different explanations, so that what is true for the 
French subjunctive in the Chicago schools, but not for 
the German, might, in the New York schools, be false 
for the French subjunctive, but true for the German, etc., 

We may sum up the situation by saying that, for con- 
structions corresponding in form, and apparently identical 
in force, different explanations have to be given as the 
student passes from one class-room to another. The 
results are that every additional language learned adds 
to his confusion, and that the whole matter of syntax 

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comes to seem to him to be arbitrary, unreal, unimportant, 
and uninteresting. As our young people pass from one 
natural science to another, the sense of harmony and law 
grows. As they pass from one language to another, this 
sense, if it anywhere succeeds in springing up, is 
destroyed, — ^unless, indeed, the teacher pays no attention 
to syntax. 

If, now, it be true that each language has its individual 
syntax, there is nothing for us but resignation. A forced 
uniformity, through the adoption of some traditional 
scheme for some one of these lai^uages, and the appli- 
cation of that scheme to all the others, is not to be 
thought of. 

And yet, in spite of the great diversities now existing 
in our grammars, this is precisely the method that has 
been employed in the last hundred years by the vast 
majority of grammarians in the treatment of the moods. 
Each grammarian has adopted, for the grammar of the 
language which he was expounding, a scheme which had 
been made originally for the OreeTc moods. This scheme 
goes back ultimately to Gottfried Hermann's application 
of Kant's Categories of Modality to the Greek verb, with 
the inclusion of two inherited errors, and one sound 
inherited observation of a single force which happens 
to tally with one of Kant's categories. 

The inherited errors are, 1. that the subjunctive is 
always dependent (which error is due solely to the fact 
that the Greeks named the mood from its commonest 
employment, and not, as they did the other moods, from 
some one of its forces), and 2, that any apparently 
independent subjunctive may be explained by* " ellipsis " 
as dependent. The sound inherited observation is that 
the Greek optative sometimes has potential force. 

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The categories from Kant's Critique of Pure Reason, 
1781, are Reality, Possibility, and Necessity. Hermann, 
De Emendanda Ratione Orammaticae Oraecae, 1801, 
had to put four moods into these three categories, besides 
providing also for Kant's Subjectivity and Objectivity. 
Two moods must go together. Hermann therefore assigned 
the optative and subjunctive to Possibility, making the for- 
mer express Subjective Possibility, possibilitas cogitatay 
possibility as thought^ the latter Objective Possibility, 
possibilitas per ipsarum rerum condicionem, possibility 
depending upon the nature of things. To Necessity, he 
assigned the im^perative, making it the mood of Subjective 
Necessity, while Objective Necessity was assigned to 
the verbal in -r^. To Eeality he assigned the indicative. 
The subjunctive he made to be always dependent, by 
the doctrine of ellipsis. Thus toDfiePy "M us go," he 
explained as from dye, Zva l<0fi€v^ "come, in order that 
we may go." 

A succession of writers upon Greek grammar, especially 
Matthiae, 1807-8, Dissen, 1808, and Thiersch, 1812, 
worked the system into different shapes by the twisting 
of one or another phrase. Then one worker after another 
applied one or another of these schemes for Gre^ 
grammar to the grammar of the language which he 
was writing about, as Zumpt did to Latin, Jakob 
Grimm to Gemnan, Matzner to Fremch and Engiish, 
and so on. This is the source of the common expla- 
nation of the subjunctive as the mood of dependency, 
the mood of oonditionality, the mood of possibility, 
the mood of doubt or uncertainty, the mood of 
thought, the mood of subjectivity, the mood of some- 
thing conceived in the mind of the speaker (" Vorstel- 
lung " in the German grammars of the various 

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languages),^ the mood of " Nichtwirklichkeit/' ^ and the 
like.^ I have shown this in an address entitled A 
Century of Metaphysical Syntax, given before the Congress 
of the St. Louis Exposition in 1904, and printed in Vol- 
ume III of the Proceedings, and in an address entitled The 
Heritage of Unreason in Synta^^tical Method, given before 
the Classical Association of England in 1907, and printed 
in Volume V of its Proceedings, — to which, in default 
of space, I must refer for details, and which I would beg 
any one who is interested in mood-syntax to read. But 
I hasten to say also that schemes of this sort are often 
mixed with sound psychological observations,* and that 
in some of our grammars we have the psychological 
observations alone. Still, I nowhere find what is to me 
a satisfactory arrangement either for science or for 
teaching, namely a grouping of the mass of constructions 
under a relatively small number of leading forces, and 
an arrangement of such a kind as to exhibit the relation 

^So in Hanseen's Sptmische Chramtnatik, 1910. 

' So in Haas's Neufranzdaiache Syntaw, 1909. 

' " Contingency " as an explanation of the subjunctive fits in 
with " conditionality/' but historically has come down from an 
earlier scheme, based similarly on metaphysics, namely the notions 
of Possibility, Contingency, and Necessity in WolfTs Ontology. Thus 
Meiner, in his Philoaophisohe und allgemeine Spraohlehre, 17S1, 
makes the indicative express Necessity, the subjunctive Possibility 
and Contingency. Note how differently the indicative fares at the 
hands of Wolffian and Kantian grammarians. — ^In point of fact, 
Hermann misunderstood what Kant meant by subjective and 
objective, and by necessity. By necessity, Kant meant that which 
always and inevitably is, while by objective he meant that which lies 
beyond our impressions, forever inaccessible to us. 

^Thus Thiersch, 1S12, recognized the two forces of WiU and 
Futurity in the Homeric verb. Delbrfick, 1S71, made these the 
bases of his treatment of the subjunctive in his Conjunoiiv und 
Optativ im Sanahrii und OrieoMsohen. 

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of dependent uses to the independent uses out of which 
they have sprung. 

The instinct which led to the application of schemes 
for Greek syntax to the syntax of other languages may 
have been, and in my opinion was, a sound one at bottom. 
These languages, it was then already beginning to be 
known, are descended from a common parent speech. 
They must, at their earliest stages, have inherited the 
same syntax. It is conceivable, though hardly probable, 
that they should never have changed at all. But it is 
also conceivable that they should have changed completely. 
The question cannot be begged for either side. The 
way to settle it is to study each of these languages by 
itself, and also to study each in the light of the whole, 
and thus to judge how far the phenomena are the same, 
and how far they are diflPerent. The way is not to adopt 
a scheme for one language and then apply it to the 
others. Least of all is it sound procedure to frame 
the initial scheme by forcing the mood-oonstructions of 
the language treated into the mould of an a priori 
metaphysical system, even if it were sure that this was 
not a passing system. In a word, what is wanted is 
wholly independent and open-minded observation, and 
observation on a large scale. We demand such a method 
and such openness of mind on the part of workers in 
natural science. They should be not one whit less 
demanded of us. We deal with one of the most beautiful 
of all the sciences, the means of expression of human 
thought. It deserves to have our best powers brought 
to bear upon it. 

The task is a large one. It is evident that it is 
impossible, within the limits of two articles, to set fortii 
a complete system, for the seven languages which I 

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have in mind, with complete proof at every point. I 
can only give a brief sketch at the leading points, 
together with a general summary of my proposals, 
which must be placed at the end of the second article. 

I am also hampered by the certainty that, while many 
will agree at once with my main point of view, either 
as already theirs or as at once to be accepted, others 
will be reluctant The method of exposition must there- 
fore be a patient one, which shall take no step for 
granted ; and it will call for similar patience on the part 
of the reader. 

Let us begin with the examination of some of the 
facts in some one lai^uage, and then pass to other 

In considering English we are likely to be met with 
the common idea that the subjunctive^ is obsolete, or nearly 
obsolete, in that tongue. This is not the case. The 
subjunctive is less used than it was in Shakespeare's 
time, or the time of the translators of the King James 
Bible. We have a right, of course, as well as duty, to 
include this English, since it is read in the schools. 
But even in the literature and colloquial English of 
today, one is constantly encountering subjunctives. Some 
are deeply embedded in popular speech, like " come " in 
" she will be twenty come Christmas," or " be " in " be 
that as it may." Others are met with frequently in the 
literary English style, as in Tennyson, Longfellow, 
Stevenson, and the magazine writers generally. Others 
are in habitual use in our daily papers and in our daily 
speech. If your students have a class-meeting, and some 

'For oonvenienoe, I use the better-known name "subjunctive" 
for English and German, and not the name "optative." 

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one wants a class-badge, lie says, " I propose that a 
class-badge be adopted," or " I propose that the class 
adopt a badge." " Be adopted " and " adopt " are sub- 
junctives. The English subjunctive (except in the verb 
" be ") shows itself to the eye or ear only in the passive, or 
the third person singular of the active. But the mood used 
is of course equally subjunctive in corresponding clauses 
in other persons, as in " I propose that we adopt a badge." 
To illustrate the freedom of the usage, I quote from a 
number of daily papers. 

" Demand by that quit; " " insists that senator retire 

from contest . . ;" " I demand that surrender his seat," Chic. 

Tribune, Nov. 21, 1010; "all urging that there be no diminishing 
of effort on the Bulletin's part," Providence Eve, BuUetin, Dec. 
27, 1910; "I recommend that the coal deposits of the govemment 
be leased after advertisement," "Message of President Taft, Ohio, 
Rec.-Her.y Dec. 1, 1010; "the sentence of the court is that you be 
fined $25.00 and serve six months in the workhouse at Cincinnati," 
Boston Post, Jan. 2, 1911. 

In these examples the indicative cannot be used. But 
there is another form that can be used, namely the 
auxiliary " shall," as in " I propose that this class shall 
adopt a badge,'^ or " President Taf t insists that Senators 
shall recognize the obligation resting upon them to decide 

the case upon its merits," New York Times, Jan. 

3, 1911 (compare "insists that . . . retire," above). 
English possesses a number of such auxiliaries. Let us 
look at others. 

"Congratulations to the University of Minnesota. . . . The new 
man is a decided acquisition and has a most promising future. 
He should enjoy many years of fruitful work, should make an 
excellent guide and leader. ... It is hard for Chicago to lose him, 
but Chicago should be generous in the thought that its loss is 
Minnesota's gain. Chic. Rec-Her., Dec. 14, 1910. 

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The last "should" expresses moral obligatioiL The 
first "should" clearly expresses, not moral obligation, 
but an obligation in the nature of things or, as we might 
call it, natural likelihood. This is a very common use. 

"Taft may attack the tariff on wool," Chic, Trib., Nov. 21, 
1010; **were he alive now there can be no doubt that he would 
use yesterday's horror as a grim argument," ibid. 

Here " may " expresses possibility, while " would " 
expresses, not possibility, but certainty in the imagined 
case, — or, as we may call it, ideal certainty. 

Evidently, then, our English auxiliaries are to be 
studied in any study of the subjunctive, and the exact 
meanings are to 'be determined. We might, iiideed, very 
well start our whole study of mood-ideas with them. But 
there is a certain advantage also in taking them up one 
at a time, in connection with the forces which we find in 
other languages. We will accordingly begin with a 
foreign language which has the subjunctive in lai^e use. 
Let this be French. 

We find at once an apparently large number o«f forces. 
Now we are not to look, as metaphysical syntax does, 
for some one force so abstract, so nearly emptied of 
meaning, as to cover all of these. We know nothing 
analogous to such a relation of meanings anywhere else 
in language. Consider what has happened in the case 
of the meaning of words. For many of them, we find 
two, three, four, or more meanings. We do not look 
for some one meaning present in all of these, and thus 
accounting for them. If, e. g., we travel to Eome in 
a palace car, and the next day visit the Palatine, — the 
ancient Palatium, — we remember, if we stop to think, 
that the word "palace" has come from the word 

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" palatium," and that the Romans also used " palatium " 
in the sense of palace. The word meant originally 
somethii^ like " the grazers' hill." We do not for a 
moment suppose that there is some one meaning common 
to the idea of a palace and the idea of a grazers' hill, 
and that this is the reason why the same word is used 
for both. We know that some special association, — in 
this case a chance one, namely the later erection of 
splendid buildings upon the once humble grazers' hill, — 
brought about the new meaning. There are three stages 
in the process, which, to exhibit the principle of growth 
by itself, we may conveniently designate by algebraic 
representations. The first meaning was that of the 
grazers' hill. We may call this x. But there arose also, 
in consequence of the erections mentioned, the idea of 
the hill with its splendid buildings; that is, the idea 
of splendor, y, became associated with the word 
" palatium." We may call this stage a: + !/• Out of it 
came in time the meaning " splendid building " alone, 
or y. The process is thus one of association and subse- 
quent detachment, x, a; + y, y. 

These are accidental associations. The cause may 
often lie deeper, and generally does. Thus the word 
" miserable," once meaning only " pitiable," " unfortu- 
nate," has come to have a new idea of " bad," through the 
apparently natural association of misfortune and moral 
degeneration. In consequence, the statement, " he is a 
miserable man " may today mean either " he is un- 
fortunate " or " he is bad." 

Of course, too, the new meaning y may in turn give 
rise to still a third one z, or a fourth one, and so on, 
by a similar process. Thus Latin captiws, "captive," 
has come in Italian (cattivo), French (chetif) and 

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English (caitiff) to mean " bad," " base,'* etc, doubtless 
through an intermediate stage in which it meant 
" miserable." 

Now it is extremely imlikely that, while the words 
which we employ gain new meanings by association, cases 
and moods do not. The opposite is probable. It is 
altogether likely that the subjunctive, for instance, had 
in the beginning a single and fairly definite meaning, 
and gained new powers by association. The association 
might take place in the mind odf the speaker as well as 
of the hearer; or it might take place in the mind of the 
hearer only, for whom, thereafter, the mood would possess 
the new power, in addition to the old one, or with the 
loss of that. For we copy expressions, using them with 
the force with which we have heard them, when we do 
not ourselves know how they originate. Thus I suppose 
the modem familiar exclamation " gee ! " has come from 
the fuller form " Jesus ! " (compare German " Herr Je !"). 
The delicately nurtured modern girl, brought up in a 
Christian home, may say " gee ! " in all innocency, while 
she would be shocked if she beard her brother say 

We are, then, to endeavor to find the force of the sub- 
junctive in this or that concrete example, going ultimately 
through the whole gamut. The result will be a certain 
number of constructions, which will probably be reducible 
to a much smaller number of families, that is, applications 
of a given force to a number of uses. The forces seen 
in these families will constitute the leading forces of 
the mood. So much being accomplished, it is possible 
that we may then be able, by detecting natural associations 
of meaning here and there, to determine the probable 
ways in which these various leading forces came to attach 

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themselves suoeeesively tx> a mood which originally had 
but a single force. We shall then have reached a rational 
and satisfactory understanding of the whole, a mood- 
system. This, it should be clearly marked, is an entirely 
different conception from that of a single force under- 
lying every use. The conception whidi I oppose is meta- 
physical. The one which I advocate is biological and 
evolutionary. Let me say also that the system which I 
propose is not a " logical " one, but a psychological one. 
Language is now logical, now not logical; but it is 
always psychological, i. e., a matter of the actual behavior 
of the human mind. Our ideas of what this psychology 
is are to be determined from a study of the actual 
operations of the mind, ae seen in recorded speedi. Syntax 
is an observational science. 

Before we take up the subjunctive, we may get helpful 
points of view by noting the uses of the imperative. 
Happily, it is generally admitted that the imperative 
has the same forces in all the languages which we are 

The imperative varies through all shades of energy, 
from a peremptory order to request, entreaty, prayer, 
and, on the corresponding other side, to consent, acqui- 
escence, indifference. 

The imperative is also employed frequently, not with 
the force of a true command, but with a purely 
imaginative force. Thus it is used in concessions of 
indifference, as in, "let it be as you say: stiH ... ;" 
in assumptions (conditions) as in Shakespeare, J. C. 3, 
1, 103, "grant that, and then is death a benefit"; and 
in provisos, as in, "only try, you vn31 find people to 
help you." This imaginative use of the imperative is 
perfectly familiar to us in mathematics, as in "let x = 

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the number of bushels of wheat," " let a perpendicular 
be dropped upon the base/' etc 

We are ready now for our attadt. But what will be 
the nature of the evid^ice which we may be able to find 
for determining the force of the subjunctive in a given 
instance? The leading evidence (I do not here cover 
the whole ground) may be of a single kind, or, in addition, 
of either of two other kinds. 

1. The force must be recognized by interpretation. 
The force in a given place is the one naturally demanded 
by the passage itself. All syntactical work must rest 
ultimately on this basis, and not on the basis of inherited 
categories supposed to be permissible. 

2. The force of a mood may also be indicated ait times 
by its approximate equivalency with another mood, as 
shown by alternation between the two under fixed 

3. Specific additional evidence is at times afforded by 
the coupling of the subjunctive with another expression 
the force of which cannot be doubted. 

As we read or hear French, a common usage is that 
of command or prohibition (negative command) in the 
third person, as in quHl vierme, qy!il ne vienne paSj " let 
him come," "let him not come." Obviously the mood 
here expresses what the speaker wants done, or does not 
want done. This is evidence of the first kind. 

But, for commands or prohibitions, the subjunctive 
alternates with the imperative, according to the person, 
— ^imperative in the second, and subjunctive in the third ; 
while in certain irregular verbs, we also see the subjunc- 
tive form in the first plural. Thus we say viens, " come," 
in the second person, but, qu'il vienne in the third, and 
soyons braves, or ayons du courage, in the first plural. 

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This is evidence of the second kind. We see, then, that 
the French subjunctive, whatever other forces it may 
possess, possesses one that lies very close at least to that 
of the imperative. We might call this roughly the im- 
perative subjunctive; but, since it is convenient to have 
a distinctive name, I have called it the volitive sub- 
junctive (making the word from volo, " I want (some- 
thing) ;" and the term has already passed into considerable 
use, in Europe ^ as well as in America. 

The recognition of the existence of this force at once 
explains a large number of dependent clauses, as after 
vouloir (in je veux quil.vienne, " I want him to come,") 
and after verbs of commanding, demanding, requiring, 
urging^ proposing, etc 

We can also, having seen the imperative used, widi 
purely imaginative force, in the expression of concession, 
condition, proviso, etc., readily believe that its mate the 
volitive subjunctive would have the same power, and can 
thus explain large classes of examples, as in qu'il vienne^ 
verra, "let him come, he will see." (I postpone the 
consideration of the origin of this use of the conjunction 
qiLC, and also the question whether any other mood-force 
may likewise have contributed to these particular uses). 

Leaving French for the moment, let us make an 
entirely fresh start in Italian, as if we were beginning 
our whole study here. We find, by precisely the same 
evidence, the same force in the subjunctive. It alternates 
with the imperative in the expression of commands, 
positive and negative. In the same way, too, the volitive 

^As by Delbrack, and ocoasionally by Brugmann. The latter, 
however, ordinarily uses the word " voluntative," adopted by him 
in his Qreek Qrammar, 1S85. 

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power, once recognized, gives us immediatelj a successful 
key to a mass of dependent clauses after verbs of 
commanding, dem^mdingy requiring, urging, proposing, 
etc. The constructions correspond in detail. Thus the 
Italian for " I want him to come," voglio che egli venga, 
looks precisely like je veux qu'il vienne. 

Or, again, we may make a fresh start wit^ Spanish. 
The evidence is the same, the conclusion is the same, 
and the details correspond. In the Spanish for " I want 
him to come," quiero que el venga, the word " I want " 
has indeed changed, the descendant of Latin quaero having 
ousted Latin volo. But the dependent construction has 
obviously the same force that i^ has in je veux quil 
vienne and voglio che egli venga. 

Now the agreement with one another which we have 
seen in French, Spanish, and Italian (it might be shown 
in the other Bomance languages also) cannot be the result 
of sheer chance. Coincidence on such a scale would not 
fall short of miracle. The agreement must be due to 
origin in a common mother of them all. The volitive 
force of the subjunctive must have come down from that 
language. If we did not possess that language, we could 
still surely make the conclusion. But we do possess it, 
and can verify our inference. By the same kind of 
evidence as before, again applied independently, it can 
be shown that the Latin subjunctive has, among other 
powers, a volitive one. And the same power gives us, in 
the same way, an explanation of many details of dependent 
clauses exactly corresponding to those which we found 
in other languages, including the Roman way of saying, 
" I want him to (M>me," namely volo ut ille verUat 

Now, if it be granted that a power found in all the 
Bomance languages did not originate in each of them 

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independently, but has oome down from Latin, an im- 
portant conclusion follows, namely: no one has a right 
to speculate upon the origin and interrelations of French 
constructions on the basis of Frenoh alone, or of Spanish 
constructions on the basis of Spanish alone, or of Italian 
constructions on the basis of Italian alone. For, in so 
doing, one may easily take as his starting-^point a con- 
struction or force which is of late origin, and explain 
by it something which was in existence before the assumed 
cause of it was. This is exactly what happens. Thus 
the book from which I quoted the caution that Latin 
affords no clew to the actual i^^e of the French subjunctive 
derives the use in the expression of a wish and the 
expression of an order after verbs like commander from 
the use in the expression of feeling or sentiment, as after 
the phrases " je suis d6sole," " je suis fache,'^ etc. These 
uses are common to the Bomanoe languages. But Latin 
did not possess the latter construction in the form in 
which we find it in the Romance languages, while it did 
possess the former, and used it very abundantly. The 
older construction cannot be derived from the younger. 

Again, in working from Romance alone, one may 
overlook the possibility that the particular construction 
of which one is trying to trace the origin may be the 
last survivor in a series of developments, and have no 
near relations living. Thus if you speculate, on Romance 
soil alone, upon the origin of the subjunctive clause 
after negatives, superlatives, and words meaning " first," 
" last," or " only," you have nothing real to go upon, 
and must go wrong. The construction is inherited from 
Latin. In Latin, then, is the origin to be found, if it 
is to be found at all. But do not misunderstand me. This, 
of course, is not the end of the matter. We have also 

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to consider the disappearance of the related oonstructionfl 
in Romance. And, further, it is always possible that a 
construction which exists in Latin should survive in 
Romance, but have come to have a different force from 
the one which it originally ha<L I am m^t advocating 
a mere mechanical tabulation of Romance constructions 
on the basis of even the best scheme for Latin. So far 
indeed from this, I believe that I discern in certain 
facts of Romance construction the decisive evidence with 
regard to the nature of certain Latin confltructions which 
cannot surely be solved on evidence afforded by Latin 
alone. I hope, however, to have established the position 
that the investigator of Romance syntax must deal with 
Latin and Romance as a whole, and that a Lateimsch- 
Romamecher Modus-Schatz is just as reasonable a thing 
as a LateinischrRomanischer Wort-Schatz. 

A tsecond conclusion is implied in what has just been 
said. Where the Romance languages agree in a con- 
struction, but we are perhaps in doubt about its exact 
nature, and at the same time possess sure evidence about 
the nature of the Latin construction which it continues, 
we know, through Latin, the original nature, at any 
rate, of the Romance construction, and, in default of 
any evidence of change, are to interpret the Romance 
construction as possessing that nature. Use will be made 
of this principle presently. 

But a larger and still more important conclusion also 
follows from the general argument from Romance and 
Latin. If you grant that the agreemfent which we have 
seen in the Romance languages is not due to a coincidence 
of accidents, but to a common descent from one mother, 
you have granted the whole position of comparative 
syntax. For you cannot stop here. It can be inde- 

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pendently shown, by the same kind of evidence, that the 
volitive power poBsessed by the subjunctive in Latin is 
possessed by the Germanic languages, by Greek, by 
Sanskrit, by Slavic, by Celtic, and so forth. Now if 
the existence of a given power in all the Romance 
languages proves that that power was inherited from 
their mother, Latin, then the existence of a given power 
in Latin, Germanic, Greek, Sanskrit, Slavic, Celtic, and 
so on, proves that this power was inherited from the 
common mother of them all, — the parent speech, spoken 
when the remote ancestors of all the peoples who have 
developed these various languages were still dwelling 
together, one people, with one language. 

For each of these languages independently, as I have 
said, the existence of a volitive power of the subjunctive 
may be proved in the same way as for Latin and Romance. 
Thus in English a command in the second person is 
expressed by the imperative, while a command in the 
third is expressed at will by the subjunctive in older 
English, as in Shakespeare's "then every soldier kill 
his prisoners," Hen. V, 4, 7, 17, in modem literary 
English, as in Stevenson's " this be the verse they grave 
for me," from the Requiem, and occasionally in modem 
colloquial English, as in "everybody get into the yell," 
which I heard recently on the football field. The force, 
once recognized, gives us the explanation of dependent 
clauses such as were quoted above from the daily papers. 
We have noted, too, that the alternative mood-auxiliary 
for this force is " shall," and may therefore conveniently 
speak of volitive shall. 

By this same kind of evidence the Greek subjunctive 
possesses the same power, and so on. 

The ultimate conclusion for the Romance subjunctive 

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is, then, that it possesses a volitive power, and that this 
power was inherited from the parent speech. 

Leaving the volitive subjunctive for the present, we 
pass to another group of constructions in Eomanoe, namely 
subjunctives after words or phrases meaning " before " 
or " until," as avant que, jusqua ce que, prima che, 
finche, antes que, hasta que. The natural interpretation 
is that the act is merely looked forward to, without any 
other mood feeling, as in " how long will that last ? 
Until your hair shall be gray," conibien de temps durera- 
t-il? Jusqu^a ce que tes cheveux soient gris, de Musset, 
On ne badine pas avec V Amour, ii^ 4. The sole 
idea compatible with the context is that of expectation, 
anticipation. This, again, is the first method of proof, 
and should be enough, by itself alone, to show the existence 
of such a power. But, as it happens, we have fuller 
evidence in Latin for the use from which Romance has 
come down. In Latin, if the future act in such a clause 
is to be expressed as in a finished state, it is the future 
perfect indicative, not the corresponding tense of the 
subjunctive, that is used. Then the Latin subjunctive 
possesses a power which approximates to that of a future 
tense of the indicative, that is, a power of expressing 
something close to mere futurity.* We might call this 

*The future indicative also occasionaUy occurs with antequam 
or priusquctm, as in ai minuSy non antequam necesse erit, Cic. Att., 
13, 48, 1. An occasional usage, howefver, while it may convey a 
sound hint, does not necessarily do so (as a fixed alternative 
does), since it naay indicate a variant conception. But in Gato's 
De Agricultura there are four cases of the future indicative to 
ten of the subjunctive (I am relying on Keil's list, ad 134, 1, 
which purports to be complete) ; and this number constitutes so 
respectable a proportion as to point strongly toward the piwx^ical 
equivalency of the two constructions. 

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the near-future-indioative power. But, for the sake of 
brevity, I have called it an " anticipatory '* power, or a 
^'prospective" power. Professor Sonnenscltein, who 
independently detected this power of the Latin subjunc- 
tive, and, like myself, tai^ht it in his classes a number 
of years before publishing it,^ prefers the word " prospec- 
tive." So should I, 90 far as the word itself goes. It 
is a little shorter. But we also need an abstract noun 
to go with our adjective, and a verb. Now you can 
speak of the anticipatory subjunctive, of the idea of 
anticipation, and of an act as anticipated; but after 
saying prospective subjunctive, you cannot speak of the 
idea of a prospect, and of an act as prospected, because 

^ Profeseor Sonneiischein publiabed in 1803, I in 1804. But mj 
doctrine already clearly appears, though briefly touched upon, in 
my Oum-Construotions, Cornell University Studies in Class. PhiL, 
I, 1887, p. 42 (p. 46 of the German translation). In dealing with 
antequam veniat, etc., I said that it was extremely probable that 
the construction was the same as that of the Greek "before" 
and "until" clauses, and that Delbrflck's treatment of the latter 
(Conj. ti. Opt, im SoMkrii u. Chrieohiachen) was eoimndng. This, 
which was the first printed recognition of the existence of a Latin 
subjunctive of mere futurity, was before Rodenbusoh's statement 
(not applied to these clauses, and mostly wrong in its details) in 
his dissertation De Temporum Uau Plautino Qaaestionea Selectae, 
1888, which I failed to know, and so to mention in the publications 
referred to above, because its title did not imply a treatment of 
the moods. I also, in my Sequence of Tenses, American Journal of 
Philology y used in 1887 t^ phrase "act in view" (which is like 
Sonnenschein's "act in prospect") in dealing with "before" and 
" until " subjunctive clnuses in Latin, and, in April, 1888, in the 
same journal, the phrase "act looked forward to from a certain 
time," choosing them to be in accord with my theory of the origin 
of the constructions when I should expressly publish upon them. 
These are the phrases upon which I still especially rely. I speak 
thus of having anticipated Rodenbusch because I may have seemed 
to be using a suggestion of his without giving him credit. 

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the noun " prospect '* and the verb " prospect " have 
gained special meanings. The English Joint Committee 
on Grammatical Terminology, while it has adopted the 
adjective "prospective," preferred by its chairman, has 
nevertheless been dl>liged to adopt my noun " anticipa- 
tion." It seems to me better to use corresponding words, 
i. e.y " anticipation " and " anticipatory." In practice 
it is found that students have no trouble at all with this 
latter word. 

Let us now see clearly what we have done. We have, 
in brief, found evidence in Latin for the nature of a 
common Romance construction, — abourt; which, to be sure, 
there should have been no doubt, but about which there 
has been doubt, and which no Romance grammar, so far 
as I know, classifies as I have classified it* The evidence 
cannot be rejected, unless the force which appears in the 
Latin original can be shown not to fit the examples in 
Romance. But it fits admirably. 

The Romance conjunctions for these constructions are 
interesting. Avant que and antes que are descendants of 
Latin ante qumn. Prima che is a variation from prius 
quam. Hasta que is half Arabic. Jusqyfa ce que and 
finche are, in the first half, new formations. But the 
force of the clause as a whole is not affected. 

The so-called present subjunctive in these Latin- 
Romance clauses looks forward to Ihe future from the 
present. The corresponding form, the imperfect subjunc- 

'Some of the French grammars speak of "anteriority" as the 
force of the subjunctive in these constructions. But this, while 
good as far as it goes, is a recognition of the force of the 
conjunctions, not of the force of the mood. There is ^qual "anteri- 
ority'' in the frequent indicative clause with jusqu'd oe que, 
expressing a past fact. 

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tive, expresses an act put as looked forward to from the 
past, i. e., past anticipation. This is the key to a great 
number of subjunctive examples, in various kinds of 

In French, the subjunctive is steadily used also in the 
expression of a past fact after avant que, and largely, 
though not always, of a past fact after jusqu'd ce que. This 
must be due to a process of levelling, which had begun 
already in classical Latin. In my Anticipatory Sub- 
junctive in Oreek and Latin: a Chapter of Comparative 
Syntax, University of Chicago Press, 1894 (reprinted in 
Studies in Classical Philology, Vol. 1, 1895), I suggested 
that it came about through a confusion between prevision 
and fact in narration.^ Thus the passage in Livy, 5, 33, 5, 
ducentis quippe annis ante quam . . . Roman caperent, 
may in his own mind have meant " two hundred years 
before the Gauls were to take Eome," i. c, have expressed 
an historic anticipation (similar things are found in 
modem English, with "was to" or "should"). The 
result was ultimately a mere mood-habit, vnthout mood- 
meaning, and the French construction remains at this 

The anticipatory power of the subjunctive in Komance, 
once recognized, gives us the key to several fairly fixed 
constructions which would otherwise be puzzling. These 
are the use of the subjunctive after verbs of expecting, 
hoping, doubting, or denying, as in je doute qu'il vienne, 
dudo que venga, " I doubt that he will come." Elsewhere 
in Romance, the tense-meaning of the present subjunctive 
after verbs of opinion is that of the present. These sub- 

^This explanation ie repeated by HuIIihen, " Antequam and 
Priusquam,*' Johns Hopkins dissertation, 1903. 

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junctive^ usee exist in Latin, and cannot be explained in 
any other way than as anticipatory, since the alternative, 
and c(Hnmoner, constructions in Latin are either the future 
infinitive, or, if the subjunctive is required, the peri- 
phrastic form with the future participle, — i. e., the mood 
ahney in the use under examination, carries the force of 
futurity which ordinarily is carried by an express future 
tense. Hanssen, Spanische Grammatik, who does not give 
any real explanation of the idiom, says that exspedo ut 
and spero ut are already to be found in Latin. But the 
word " already," which implies that the construction is 
new in Latin, is wrong. The great probability is that the 
construction is a survival from an older one, of much more 
general use. The reason for this belief will appear in 
what follows. 

The examples noted for Eomance are all in subordinate 
clauses. So are they in classical Latin. Is this then a 
new power, which arose in ancient Italy, or a survival from 
an original freer use ? We may get light on the question 
from other languages, if the general principle which we 
seem in the way to establish should be confirmed in other 
fields of subjunctive uses. 

Classical Greek is in the same general condition as 
Latin. There is abundant use of the subjunctive after 
words meaning " before " or " until." But when we go 
back to Homeric Greek, we find a considerable use also 
of the independent subjunctive, in the approximate sense 
of a future indicative. So do we, along with the depen- 
dent subjunctive of the same force, in Vedic Sanskrit, Old 
Persian, and Avestan.^ But Greek does more for us than 

*8o do w«, even as late as the fourtli century, A. D., in the 
Gothic flubjunetive (optative), a« in Mark 10, 8, where the indepen- 
dent future indicative f^orrac, ''will be," is translated by tbi9 
independent optative aijaina. 

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any other langiiage oan^ beoause of its poaeeeeion of a 
modal partide, av (in Homeric Greek, av or k€)^ the 
U8e or non-use of which enables us to part the subjunctives 
into two masses,^ In independent sentences in Homer, sub- 
junctives expressing volition, namely exhortations and pro- 
hibitions, never have the particle, while subjunctives ex- 
pressing anticipation may have it or not. The particle 
is thus like a little tag of ownership. The absence of it 
in a given example is no proof of the nature of that 
example ; but its presence is proof that the force is antici- 
patory. This gives us a clew to the force in dependent 
clauses, — ^in which, for some reason which I have not 
satisfactory solved, the use or non-use of the particle 
is much more steady. The particle is constantly present 
in Homer in clauses with phrases meaning " until." 
(Clauses with words meaning " before " are few in Homer, 
and demand individual discussion, which I have given in 
The Anticipatory Siibjunctive. In Attic prose they always 
appear with the particle). For these Greek daiwee, then, 
we not only have the evidence of the natural demand of 
the meaning, but also this visible external evidence in 
the shape of the modal tag. They are surely anticipatory. 
We are thus brought to the same result as for Latin and 
Rom'ance. There is also an interesting coincidence of 
detail. The French phrase jusqu'a ce que, "until," is 

* We eha]] see in the eeoond paper that the same particles enable 
us similarly to part the Greek optatives into two masses. Greek 
thus, when properly studied, practically distinguishes four moods 
for us, where Sanskrit, Old Persian and AiTestan distinguish but 
two, and Latin, Germanic, etc., afford no distinction. Nowhere 
else, accordingly, can the behavior of the mind of any people an 
the building-up of ite expression of mood-ideas be seen so clearly 
as in Greek. The fact makes Greek of paramount importance, <m 
the side of the verb, to the student of comparative syntax. 

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formed precisely like the common Homeric w o, which 
is one of the introductory phraeea used, — i. e., it is made 
up of a preposition and a relative. Through far separated 
in time and territory, the early Greek mind and the 
French mind worked in precisely the same way in reaching 
their mechanism for the expression of the idea of " until " 
with anticipation. 

We have seen that early Sanskrit, and the languages 
of its immediate family, Old Persian and Avestan, have 
a very free use of the subjunctive of anticipation, both in 
independent and in subordinate clauses. They possess 
then the material out of which anticipatory " ibefore " or 
" until " clauses might have grown ; but they use instead 
a mechanism of another sort, withofut a verb. 

English possesses an anticipatory use of the subjunctive 
in clauses with words or phrases meaning "before" or 
" until." The use was common enoi^h at an earlier time, 
as in " or ever the golden bowl be broken," Eccl. 12, 6, 
" this night, before the cock crow, thou shalt deny me 
thrice, Matth. 26, 34, and is common enough today in 
poetry, as in "before this fire of eense decay," A. E. 
Housman, A Shropshire Lad, xliii. A key to the force, 
if one were needed, is given us by the alternative use of 
the auxiliary " shall," as in " before it shall be too late," 
"the lads you leave will mind you, | Till Ludlow tower 
shall fall," Housman, iii. Now we know what this 
shall means. It is still occasionally used in independent 
sentences by many writers (much employed by Eden Phill- 
potts, for example), and was once very common, as in 
the King James translation of the Bible. We may call 
shall so used the anticipatory shall. An extremely inter- 
esting parallelism between English and Greek is to be 


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pointed out in this connection- We have seen now 
that ^^ shall " is both a voJitive and an anticipatory aux- 
iliary^ and it would seem sure that the wodrd, starting 
with one of these forces^ whichever it was^ had through 
some association gained the power to express the other 
idea (or had gained both throi^h some idea now lost to us). 
But the Greek subjunctive has the same double power; and 
these are the only two leading powers it possesses^ since 
the others which we have to note later belong, in Greek, 
to a completely different set of mood-forms, called the 
optative. The same is true of Sanskrit and its close 
sisters. We may then say that the subjunctive in Greek 
and English, together with " shall " in English, constitutes 
the volitive-anticipatory mood for these languages. 

The agreement of Greek and Sanskrit (and its sisters), 
which are the only languages keeping the subjunctive and 
optative forms apart, seems to point to the existence, in 
the parent speech, of these two forces of the subjunctive 
mood. One force was probably gained, by association, 
out of the other (or both out of some other). So, thto, 
English, within a comparatively few centuries, has re- 
peiated the process (or gone through some process with 
the same result) over again. Such agreements, at remote 
distances of space and time, seem to make out an extra- 
ordinarily strong case for the value. of the comparative 
point of view in the study of any individual language. 

A further principle, with a corollary from it, may be 
won from the facts which we have seen. The lack of 
" before " and " until " clauses with the subjunctive in 
Sanskrit makes it probable that the parent speech did 
not possess them. The constructions which we have seen 
in other languages of the family were, then, not descended 

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from a commooi original anticipatory subjunctive clau86y 
but were developed, with the same results, from an identi- 
cal inherited mood-force. Other corresponding construc- 
tions in these languages, then, may, in some ca^es, be 
simply the result of identical psychological processes, 
working with a common inherited material. 

The corollary is that where, in two or moare languages 
of the family, we find corresponding constructions not com- 
mon to the whole family, and in one or more of these lan- 
guages are unable to decide between two possible origins, 
but in another have sure evidence, the origin in the doubt- 
ful case is probably the one made out in the sure case, 
rather than the other one. We shall presently have 
occasion to use this corollary. 

The force of the GJermanic subjunctive after words 
meaning " before " or " until " appears meet naturally 
to be, as in the other languages which we have tested, 
anticipatory. Confirmation is also afforded, just as for 
English, by the alternative use of the auxiliary "aoll." 
This auxiliary, like English " shall,'' is volitive or antici- 
patory. The volitive force would fit only in a com- 
paratively few cases (namely after a negatived main verb). 
The anticipatory force fits everywhere.^ 

Delbriick, in his " Qermanischer Optativ im Satzge- 
fiige '' explains the subjunctive in the Germanic clauses 

'It is quite oonceivable that a volitive force might have beoome 
associated with the " until " clauses through such special cases, and 
ultimately have gained the upper hand. Compare "come in till 
I whip you/' which I once heard said by a mother to a child. 
But such examples are clearly secondary in English. Homeric Greek 
shows a few examples (five) where the idea might be purpose 
(in three cases, must be). But nothing came of the construction, 
since it does not appear anywhere later. 

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with " before " or " until " as the mood of VbiBtellung, 
i. e. of conception, as against reality. But, as I said 
in an unpublished paper at the St Louis Expoeition, 
and again before the Versammlung Deutscher Professoren 
und Schulmdnner in Bale in 1907 (abstract published 
in the Proceedings), this kind of explanation is an in- 
heritance from metaphysical syntax, from which, though 
he holds the distinguished position of having been the 
first to apply psychological syntax to the moods on a 
large scale, I am forced to feel that DeMbriick has not 
wholly freed himself. 

Anglo-Saxon developed, for the past, a mood-habit with 
"before" like that of modem French. In Beowulf, 
C75, gespraec f>a se goda gylp-worda sum, Beowulf Qeata, 
fer he on bed stige, the clause »r . . . stige may have 
meant " before climbing up on his bed " (before he should 
climb," cf. common clauses like antequam in dciem 
educeret in Latin), but could easily be taken to mean 
" before he climbed." The levelling is complete in such 
an example as " ic wsea serj^am j^e Abraham wcere," John 
8, 58, " before Abraham was, I was " (similarly in the 
Gothic, faurf>izei Abraham waurf>i, im ik. The mood is 
not due to the Greek original, which has the infinitive). 
But English has restored again the distinction between an 
act looked forward to and an actual act looked back upon, 
'Note again the working out of identical detached processes 
in two groups of languages that have no historical con- 
nection nearer than the ultimate one through the parent 

The " before " and " until " clauses looking forward 
to the future really have a very simple office, which they 
share with many other clauses, introduced by various 

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oonnectives, as " when," " who," " which," etc. These 
clauses tell what person, what thing, whai time, etc., is 
meant. They fill out an incom^plete pronoun or equivalent 
article, or themselves completely take the place of one. 
Examples are seen in "with the l^ion which he had 
with him," " God bless the man who first invented sleep," 
" that which you say," " the man that married Nausikaa." 
Such clauses are probably the commonest of all relative 
clauses. Yet they have been without a name, until I 
gave them one.^ Since they fill out an incomplete pro- 
noun, they should bear the same name that is given to 
the pronoun. For the pronoun, two names are in existence, 
demonstrative and determinative, some grammars using 
one, others the other. The word demonstrative, "pointing," 
is excellent, if the object is close at hand, so that it might 
really be pointed at. But in many cases the object is 
remote, and it is generally so in the case of the clauses. 
Hence the word determinative is better, and should be 
applied throughout, — determinative pronoun, determina- 
tive clause. It would make for clearness also if the 
corresponding article "the," and the corresponding 
Romance words, were called the determinative article. 

Now the mood for the determinative clause dealing 
with the future is, in Greek, Sanskrit, etc., the anticipatory 
subjunctive, as in "the man who shall perfect this 
invention will make a fortune," and "happy the man 
who shall lead you home in marriage," said by Odysseus 

*In "The Cum-Gonstnictions: their History and Functions/' Cor- 
nell University Studies in Classical Philology, Vol. I (18S7), p. 85 
(p. 94 of the German translation). 

The word determinative has been used of late in Qemtany and 
France, but in a looser sense, covering for example such a clause 
as that in, "in a city where I wasn't known." 

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to i^Tausikaa in Od. 6, 158. Our grammarianfl in general 
(thus Goodwin), inheriting a twist given by Dissen to 
Hermann's metaphysical scheme, call all such construc- 
tions conditions, — even clauses with "before" and 
" until." There is no basis for this. Odysseus does not 
know surely, of course, whether Nausikaa will marry, 
but he takes it for granted that she will. Years later, 
remembering the girl who had befriended him, he might 
have said, "happy the man who led her home in 
marriage." He would not have known surely whether 
anybody had done so. But no one would think of 
explaining the preterit indicative clause in such a case by 
calling it conditional. Greek held steadily to the method 
of expression pointed out for the determinative < clause 
referring to the future. A simple and beautiful " rule " 
might be given, which would eliminate a great deal of 
difficulty, as well as bad science, from our Greek manuals, 
namely that " in determinative clauses, futurity is regu- 
larly expressed by the anticipatory subjunctive, if the 
main verb also refers to the future." The same rule 
may be laid down for generalizing clauses in the future. 
Both rules, again, may be laid AiywTLpermissivelyioT Gothic 
Thus in, in f>ane gardei inn gaggai^, frumist qi^ai^, 
" into whatsoever house ye shall enter, first say," Imke 10, 
5; i^ saei tauji^ (indie.) jah laisjai (subj.) swa, "but 
whosoever shall do (the commandments) and teadh so," 
Matt 5, 19. The usages were inherited from the parent 
speech, or, at any rate, formed in identical fw'ays in die var- 
ious families of languages out of corresponding material. 
Mark now another of the striking detailed parallelisms 
at long range. In English, as vpl Latin, the use of the 
anticipatory subjunctive in determinative clauses, except 

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those with " before " or " until," disappeared. Yet when 
English eame to help out the expression of its mood-ideas 
by auxiliaries, it took the auxiliary " shall " (not " will," 
the future indicative auxiliary) for these clauses. English 
is as sensitive in feeling these constructions as Greek is. 
Thus, ** there will be an outcry . . . when a bill carrying 
lower duties shall come before Congress," Chic. Trib., 
April 11, 1911. We ought to call *' shall " the antici- 
patory auxiliary, and might lay down the rule that " in 
English determinative clauses, futurity is expressed by 
anticipatory ^ shall ' rather than by the future indicative, 
if the main verb also refers to the future." (For the use 
of the present indicative, see below). 

Latin in the main replaced the anticipatory subjunctive, 
except with words meaning " before " or " until," by 
the future indicative. This is the mood in French and 
Italian. Spanish, on the other hand, uses the subjunctive, 
exactly as Greek does, in all determinative clauses looking 
to the future, if the main verb also refers to the future. 
Obviously the use was not inherited. It is probaibly due 
to a refiorescence of the anticipatory power still living in 
clauses with " before " and " until," and the few other 
uses that have been pointed out, as in dudo que venga^ 
" I doubt that he will come." Here again, then, we have 
a striking parallel over a wide linguistic separation. 

It remains to speak of the use of the permissible 
present indicative, in a future sense, in Latin in clauses 
with words meaning " before " or " until " (priusquam 
respondeo, alongside of priusqua/m respondeam) y which 
is also the regular mood in modem English and German. 
At first blush, this fact might seem to overthrow our 
reasoning from regular alternatives. But the fixed use 

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in Latin^ that of the future perfect indicative where the 
act is to be repreeented as complete, must not be forgotten. 
We are obliged to suppoee, either that the future perfect 
indicative has gained in this constructi(Mi the power of 
a real present j or that, in some way, the present indicative 
possesses also a future power. The former is obviously 
not the case. The meaning cannot be a present one. 
The latter clearly is the case, not only here, but in 
several other constructions, as in future conditions. The 
origin of this power of the present indicative (it is 
seen, in one form or another, in all the languages of our 
family) is an interesting question, but belongs more 
naturally to my concluding article. 

Wm. Gabdneb Hale. 

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BDt«r«d NoTMnbar 7. 1902, at Boston, Mui.. m Moond-cUM mattar 
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XV. — The Shepheard^ (Mender. By Edwin A. Greenlaw, - 419-451 

XVL — A Study in Renaissance Mysticism : Spenser's * Fowre 

Ilymnes/ By Jefferson B. Fletcher, - . - 452-475 

XVII. — Influence des R^cits de Voyages sur la Pbllosophie de J. 

J. Rousseau. By Gilbert Chinard, - - - - 476-495 

XVIII. — Fi'ench Influence on the Beginnings of English Classicism. 

By Elizabeth Jelliffe Macintibe, - - - - 496-527 

XIX. — A Suggestion for a New Edition of Butler's Hudibras. By 

Edward Chauncey Baldwin, 528-548 

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Modern Language Association of America 

/ Vol. XXVI, 3 New Series, Vol. XIX, 3 


Certain critical conceptions regarding the Shephearda 
Calender require to be re-examined. One of these is 
the idea that the Calender is a series of experiments, 
lacking unity except through the rather imperfectly 
worked out idea of the seasons or the little drama of 
Colin and Rosalind. This view probably proceeds from 
the fact that in 1579-1580 Spenser and Harvey were dis- 
cussing the subject of reformed versifying, and is strength- 
ened by the well-known indebtedness of the Calender to 
certain types of Renaissance pastoral. But these dis- 
cussions with Harvey are easily magnified; the careful 
reader of the famous letters finds abundant evidence that 
Spenser was none too serious.* The indebtedness to 

^ Spenser was never in any serious danger of adopting the system 
of versification that he discussed with Harvey. These discussions 
were largely due to his friendship for Sidney and for Harvey. 
In an article on Spenser and the Earl of Leicester {Puhlicationa of 
tJie Modern Lcmguage Associaiion, September, 1010) I have discussed 
the letter of October fifth, 1570, showing that the thing nearest 
Spenser's heart was the preferment which he expected at the hands 


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foreign models is very real, but it has been stressed to 
the exclusion of elements not less important, and it no 
more proceeds from a supposedly experimental character 
of the work as a whole than the similar eclecticism of 
the Faerie Queene; a serious, unified purpose is by no 
means precluded. Moreover, we know by Spenser's own 
statement that his chief model was Chaucer; and this 
influence of Chaucer, strange to say, has not yet been 
thoroughly investigated. As to the idea that this so-called 
series of experiments possesses only the slight imity af- 
forded by the seasons motif or by the Coliri-Kosalind 
story, the fanciful importance attached to the Kalendrier 
des Bergeres as a possible model on the one hand, and 
the not unnatural desire to learn all that is possible of 
the life of Spenser on the other, have too long diverted 
attention from what I believe was Spenser's real purpose 
in writing the Calender. 

Another misconception is that with the publication of 
the Calender Spenser became famous over night. For 
this there is no justification. Though the book was pub- 
lished, anonymously, in 1679, there are apparently no 
references to it, outside of the Harvey correspondence 
and the singularly cold praise of Sidney, before 1586. 
Even Sidney's book was not published until 1595 ; so only 
the small circle who saw the manuscript could have been 
infiuenced by this reference — Sidney does not name Spen- 
ser as the author. Webbe, writing in 1586, is either not 
sure who wrote the Calender or is curiously cautious 

of Leioester, and for which he was indebted to Sidney.. Both the 
Calender and the poems written at the same period but not printed 
until 1591 prove that in his serious work Spenser had no intention 
whatever of applying the principles laid down by Drant, whatever 
they were, or by the "Areopagus." 

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in his references ; he speaks of " Master Sp." it is true, 
but does not give his full name as he does in the case 
of other authors mentioned in the Discourse; he stresses 
the moral intention of the work, replies to some charges 
of lasciviousness brought against the sixth eclogue, and 
is generally mysterious in all his references excepting 
where he quotes from the Calender to illustrate points 
in prosody. In short, though he protests that he does 
not know why the author's friends made such an effort 
to conceal the authorship, I am pretty well convinced 
that he did know. Fraunce quotes from the Calender 
in his treatise on rhetoric in 1588 and again in his 
Lamers Logike of the same year. Whetstone attributes 
it to Sidney. A Latin translation of about 1585-1586 
ascribes it to an unknown author and implies that it 
was already forgotten.^ So late as 1589, Puttenham, or 
whoever wrote the Arte of English Poesie, speaks of " that 
other Gentleman who wrate the late shepheardes Callen- 
der." Here, then, there is no justification for Grosart's 
view (i, 120) that the "newe poet" became "famous 
at a bound," or Palgrave's (in Grosart, rv, xxiv) that 
" its position was, it appears, clearly recognized at the 
date of publication"; or Qt>sse's (Grosart, i^ xix) that 
it was a book " already enjoying an unparallelled suc- 
cess." ^ All these gentlemen refer to allusions dating 

* Translation by John Dove of Chriet Church, Oxford, who inscribed 
it to the Dean ^'ut hoc opusculum jam pene deletum et quasi 
sepultum, de novo vestrae lectioni secundo oommendarem." (Wilson, 
in Blackwood, xxziv, 834.) For this reference I am indebted to 
Professor J. B. Fletcher. 

*The later biographers have followed blindly the same path. 
Hales (Memoir prefixed to the Globe edition) says that the Calender 
''secured him at once the hearty recognition of his contemporaries 
as a true poet risen up amongst them." Church is more cautious 

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about 1590, when the success of the Faerie Queene 
brought the once neglected work into prominence, in 
utter disregard of the ten years interval. Xor does the 
record of the editions afford any comfort It is true 
that a second edition dates 1581, but this is merely 
because of a transfer of the publishing rights from Hugh 
Singleton to John Harrison. The next editions date 
1586, 1591, 1597. If we turn, finally, to what seems 
the most direct evidence obtainable, the letters passing 
between Spenser and Harvey in 1579-1580, we find that 
Harvey calls his friend " il fecondo & f amoso Poeta 
Mester Immerito," and speaks of the " famous new Cal- 
ender"; he significantly says that for his own part he 
will leave versifying in order to follow studies that carry 
" meate in their mouth," though Colin Clout may haply 
" purchase great lands and Lordshippes with the money 
which his Calender and Dreames have and will afford 
him." But the very next sentence proceeds " Extra 
iocum," etc. and no one who reads carefully the letters 
of Harvey can doubt for one minute that all these refer- 
ences are just such ironical comments on the fame and 
money to be won by poetry as youthful bards have in 
all ages been accustomed to hear. They are absolutely 
worthless as evidence of popularity; indeed, they suggest 
the contrary. 

but he aays that if the authorship waa a secret, 'Mt was an open 
secret, known to every one who oared to be weU informed," and 
he totally misunderstcuids Harvey's references to it as contracting 
his own poverty with Colin Clout's good luck. Jusserand {Literary 
History, etc., n, 441 ) says, " The publishing of the * Calender ' had 
made him instantly famous." Courthope (in Cambridge History of 
English Literature, m, 248-9) confuses Leicester, to whom Spens^ 
at first intended to dedicate his work, with Sidney and says that 
Sidney "hastened to show" that Spenser's hesitancy about the 
dedication was groundless ''by bestowing high praise." 

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We have, therefore, every reason to believe that out- 
side of a small circle even the authorship of the Shepheards 
Calender was unknown for a considerable time after its 
publication, and that the work itself attracted no great 
attention until the popularity of the Faerie Queene made 
the earlier poems of the author important, as is evidenced 
not only by the increasing number of references to the 
Calender and the new editions of it, but also by the 
publication in 1591 of a collection of early poems under 
the name of Complaints. Yet every one knows the value 
oi the Calender as poetry ; there must have been a reason 
for the comparative obscurity in which the book was 
received. Moreover, Spenser's own feeling that his col- 
lection of eclogues was important, as shown by his remarks 
to Harvey on the subject of a possible dedication to 
Leicester, as well as our knowledge of. the methods 
of the " sage and serious " poet, prevent our regarding 
it as merely a series of experiments, doubtfully unified 
by the seasons idea or by the romance of Colin that 
runs fitfully through it. All this mystery is deepened 
if we turn to the remarks of E