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Modern Language Ass^ 








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VOL. XXXII. NO. 3 ^> I 






S uBSOBu ri ao N Fbzob t^M a Tbab; Siir<BJi Kukbbm $IM 

bfterd Koroabar 7, 1002» st Bortogi, Ifaa., M leoond^luf aMiter 
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/ PA0B 

Uraei of Sir Joshua Reynolds. By ELBratr 
^'HOMPSON, - 339-366 


* of Shakeapeare's ContrtbutioH to 1 Henry 


Henry David Gbay, . - - . 

•ilus-Cressida Story from Chaucer to Shake- 
^re. By HYDBft E. Holuks, .... 

r den Zweck des Dramas in Deutschland im 16. 
und 17. Jahrhundert. By Jos. E. Gillet, 

, *— Hue de Rotelande's Ipom^don and Chretien de Troyes. 
By Lucy M. Gay, - - - . - . . 

A'IX. — The Sources of Chaucer's Parlement of Foule8. By 

WiLLABD Edwabd Fabnham, 492-618 




/'^ annual volume of the Publications of the Modem Language Aaaooior 
r* of America is issued in quarterly instalments. It contains chiefly 
^ticles which hav beai 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 first number of each 
volume includes, in an Appendix, the Procedinga of the last Annual Meeting 
of i^e Association and its Divisions; the fourth, number of each volume 
contains a list of the members of the Association and its Divisions. 

The first seven volumes of these Puhlications, constituting the Old Series, 
ai^ out of print, but ar being reprinted. Volumes I to IV, indusiv, at $3.00 
each, ar now redy for delivery. All of the New Series, beginning with 
volume VIII, may be pbtaind of the Secretary. The subscription for the 
^ volume'^ $3.00. The price of single numbers is $1.00 each. 
Copies of the Keport of the Committee of Twelv on Collie Admission 
Requirements may be obtaind of the Secretary. The price is ten cents a copy. 
All communications shud be addrest to 

WiLUAH Guild Howabd, 

Secretary of the AaModatioH, 
S9 KirkUmd Street, Cambridge, li'^^. 

The next meeting of the Association wil be held imder the a'> :v i 
Yale University, at New Haven, Conn., Deconber 27, 28, 29, 191 i, 
next meeting of the Central Division of the Association under the aik., 
of the Universil^ of Wisconsin, at Madison, Wis., on the same daj> 
Attention is cald to the regulations printed on the third page of this cover, 
especially to the amended no. 2. 

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1. Members wishing to presoit papers at the meetfl% \ 
prepare them for that particnlar purpose. Extremely tec^. 

may be red by title. Subjects too large to be treated in an o. jSyory | \ 
sad topics too special to be of general interest, may be brought befof 
meeting in the form of abstracts lasting from five to ten minutes. ^ 
papers red in full shud be so constructed as not to occupy more than t% , 
(or, at most, thirty) minutes. \ 

2. Every member offering a paper, whether it is to be red in full ot \ 
shal submit to the Secretary, by November 1, with its title, a synopr ' 
its contents, consisting of some fifty or^ixty words. He shal state, a' 
same time, whether he thinks his paper shud be presented by title 
summarized in an abstract, or red in f ulL The synopses of accepted 

ar to be printed on the program. 

3. The Secretary shal select the program from the papers thuss- 
trying to distribute the matter in such a way as to make all the sei^ 
attractiv. In general not more than an hour and a half shal be devoli 
the presentation of papers at any one session. Hiere shal be suffix 
opportunity for discussion and for social intercourse. 

4. The question of publication is to be decided for each paper on ^% 
merits as a contribution to science, without regard to the form in which '• 
has been presented at the meeting. 

5. Charges exceding an average of forty-five cents per galley of the fliv 
proof for authors' additions and corrections in the proof of articles printe^ 
in the PuhUoaiiona shal be paid by the authors incurring them. -f 





arses of Siu 
<^ouvBONi^^^^^* BO'^^''^ University^ Cambridge^ Mass. 

. oy^um) HowABD, Harvard University, Oamhridge, Mass. 


\iiN6T0N^ Leland Stanford Jr. University, Stanford Univ,, Oal, 
Arthub C. L. Buowif, yorthtoesteni University, Evanston, IIU 
Gael F. Katsbb, Hunter College, New York, N, Y, 


^^j^^j^hairman, Thomas Eowabd Oliveb, University of Illinois, Urhana, lU. 
Secretary, Bkbt E. Young, Vanderhilt University, Nashville, Tenn. 


^ of Ani^ixjjiLM. Guild Eowabd, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. 

^tides wlp bjjbj e^ Youwo, Vanderbilt University, NashvUle^ Tenn. 

approved ^ Blakkmoee Evanb, Ohio State University, Colwnbus, 0. 
lume Sj GiXHMSB I^ Hamilton, Cornell University, Ithaoa^ N. Y. 

of the John Livinoston Lowes, Washington University, St, Louis, Mo. 



ar out; 

each, f 




Oboeok 0. CuBME, Northwestern University, Svanston, lU. 

Oliveb F. Smebson, Western Reserve Unipersiiy, CleveUtnd, 0. 

James Geddbs, Jb., Boston University, Boston, Mass. 

T. AXKiNflON Jenkins, University of Chicago, Chicago, lU* 

John A. Lomax, Lee, Higginson and Co,, Chicago lU. 

William Allan Nsilson, Smith College, Northampton, Mass. 

Hugo K Sohiluno, University of California, Berkeley, CcX. 

next % 
of the 



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I.— /Die Banning of Italian Influence in English Prose 

Fiction. By Howabd J, Savage, - - - - l 
n. — ^The Earliest Precursor of Our Present-Day Monthly 

Miscellanies. By Dorothy Foster,— - - - 22 
m.— Schiller's Tell and the VolksatUok,^ By Aoour Bubbb, 50 
17. — ^A Type of Blank Verse Line Found In the Earlier 

Elizabethan Drama. By F. O. Hubbard, - - 68 
y. — ^Walter Map's De Nugia OuriaUum: Its Plan and Com- 
position. By James Hinton, - - - • 81 
VL — ^The Speculum Vitae: Addendum. By HwB Ehilt 

Aixsif, 188 

\^ Vn. — ^The Rise of a Theory of Stage Presentation in Eng- 
land during the Eighteenth Century. By Lilt S. 

Campbell, .- - - 163 

Vm.— The B^^nings of Poetry. By Louise Pound, - - 201 
IX. — ^The Dramas of George Henry Boker. By Arthur 

Hobson Quinn, 238 

X. — Lave Fayned and Unfayned and the English Anabap- 
'"'*' tists. By E. Bbatriob Daw, - - - - 267 

^^,^-^^The Debate on Marriage in the Oanterhwry Tale; By ^ 

^0^^^^y Henrt Barrett Hinoklet, 202 ^^^ 

S/'Xn* — Spenp^r, Lady Carey, and the OomplamU Volume. By 

/ OiivER Farrar Emerson, 806 

Xin.— The Legend of St. Wulfhad and St. RufBn at Stone 

Priory. By Cordon Hall Gerould, - - - 828 

XIV. — ^The Diicouraea of Sir Joshua Reynolds. By Elbert 

N". S. Thompson, 839 

-The Purport of Shakespeare's Contribution to 1 Henry . 
VL By Henrt David Gray, - - - - 367 

_he Troilus-Creesida Story from Chaucer to Shake- 
speare. By Hyder E. Rollins, ■ - '^■■*- 383 ^ 
XVn. — ^t)l5CTHttlB^Zweck des Dramas in Deutschland im 16. 

und 17. Jahrhundert. By Jos. E. Giluet, - - 430 

XVm. — Hue de Rotelande'a lpom4don and Chretien de Troyes. 

By LuoT M. Gat, 468 

XTX. — ^The Sources of Chaucer's Parlement of FoiUee. By 

y^ WiLLARD Edward Farnham, 492 "^^ — 

^^'^ XX. — Balautttion'a Adventure as an Interpretation of the 

Aloeaiia of Euripides. By Frederick M. Tjbdul, 610 
XXI. — Charles Lamb, the Greatest of the Essayists. By W. 

L. MaoDonald, 547 

XXn.— The Theme of Death in Paradiae Loat. By John 

Erskine, 673/^^ " 

XXIII. — ^The Development of Brief Narrative in Modem French 
Literature : A Statement of the Problem. By Hora- 
tio E. Smith, 588 

XXTV. — Sir Perceval and The Boyiah EmpMia of Finn. By 

Roy Bennett Pace, 598 

XXV . — ^The Lincoln Cordwainers' Pageant. By Hardin Craio, 605 
XXVI.— The Early '* Royal-Entry." By Robert Withington, 616 


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Modern Language Association 








MARCH, iei7 


At 39 EJBKLAN0 Stbebt, Gahbbidcuii, Mass. 
Boston Postai. Distbiot 




Eoterd Noyember 7, 1002, at Boston, Ha«., M MOoad-dMi msttar 
under Act of Oacgnm of lUrdi I, 1879. 

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I. — The Beginning of Italian Influence in English Proae Fiction. 

By Howard J. Savage, 1-21 

II. — ^The Earliest Precursor of Our Presoit-Day Monthly Miscel- 
lanies. By DoEOTHY Foster, 22-68 

III.— Schiller's Tell and the VolkastUck, By Adolf Busse, - 59-67 

IV. — A l^pe of Blank Verse Line Foimd in the Earlier Elizabethan i 

Drama. By F. G. HtJBBABD, 68-80 

V. — ^Walter Map's De Nugia CuHaliuni: Its Plan and Cwnposi- ) 

tion. By James Hinton, - 81-132 

Appendix. — Procedings of the Thirty-fourth Annual Meeting of the 
Modern Language Association of America, hdd under 
the auspices of Princeton University, at Princeton, N. J., 
December 27, 28, 29, 1916, and of the Twenty-second 
Annual Meeting of the Central Division of the Associa- 
ti(^, held under the auspices of the University of Chicago 
and Northwestern University, at Chicago, 111., on ihe 

same days, - i-lvi 

The President's Address, Ivii-hccvii 

The Chairman's Address, bcxviii-c 


Officers of the Association for 1917 cv 

The annual volume of the Publioationa of the Modem Language Associa- 
tion of America is issued in quarterly instalments. It contains chiefly 
articles which hav been presented at the meetings of the Association and 
approved for publication by the Editorial Conunittee. Other appropriate 
contributions may be accepted by the Committee. The first number of each 
volume includes, in an Appendix, the ProcecUngs of the last Annual Meeting 
of the Association and its Divisions; the fourth number of eaoh volume 
contains a list of the members of the Association and its Divisions. 

The first seven volumes of these Publications, constituting the Old Series, 
ar out of print, but ar being reprinted. Volumes I to IV, inclusiv, at $3.00 
each, ar now redy for delivery. All of the New Series, beginning with 
volume VIII, may be obtaind 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 Twelv on College Admission 
Kequirements may be obtaind of the Secretary. The price is ten cents a copy. 

All commimications shud be addrest to 

William Guild Howard, 

Secretary of the Association^ 
S9 Kirkland Street, Cambridge, Mass. 

The next meeting of the Association wil be held under the auspices of 
Yale University, at New Haven, Conn., December 27, 28, 29, 1917, and the 
next meeting of the Central Division of the Association under the auspices 
of the University of Wisconsin, at Madison, Wis., on the same days. 
Attention is cald to the regulations printed on the third page of this cover, 
especially to the amended no. 2. 


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*MAR2d 1917'' 




Modern Lanpage Association of America 

Vol. XXXII, 1 New Series, Vol. XXV, 1 


*' The probationary period of translation . . . marks 
the first stage in the development of prose fiction," writes 
Professor J. W. H. Atkins,^ and inspection of even a few 
Elizabethan novels will convince one that the type is not 
indigenous to English soil. The use of tiie love affair, of 
realism in the telling, of ordinary people in ordinary sur- 
roxmdings, of the rival and the confidante, of even the 
minor love affair, and of a plot with well marked stages and 
characters influenced by events ^ would have been impos- 
sible to English novelists without the example of their 
Italian predecessors. Before Euphues or The Aduentwres 
passed by Master F. I. or The Oolden Aphroditis can be 
adequately accounted for, the contribution of Italy must be 
studied, not alone through such collections as Painter^s 

* Cambridge History of English Literature, Vol. m, Ch. xvi, " EUza- 
bethan Prose Fiction," p. 390. Putnam's, N. T., 1911. 

• Dr. Percy Waldron Long, " From Troilus to Euphues," Kittredge 
Anmversary Papers, Boston, 1913, p. 367. 



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Pallace of Pleasure (1566-67) and Fenton's Tragicall 
Discourses (1567), but — and this is of more importance — 
through single works outside collections, which were of suf- 
ficient length and interest to bear the test of printing as 
separate volumes. 

In 1560 appeared The Ooodli History of the moste 
noble & beautifvll Ladye Lucres of Scene in Tuslcan, and 
of her louer Eurialus, verye pleasaunt and delectable vnto 
the reder. ^ Copland may possibly have printed an edi- 
tion as early as 1550. * At all events, the edition of J. 
Kynge in 1560 was not the first. The date of the first 
English version depends upon conjecture, but 1560, even 
though it yield ten years, is sure. Lucres, so far as I 
know, was the first English translation of an Italian 
novella for its own sake, ^ and with it the influelice of 

• In The Historie of PlaaidcLS, and other rare pieces, The Roxburghe 
Club, 1873, with introduction by H. H. Gibbs. Lucres is one of the 
"rare pieces." To it Professor Carleton Brown first called my at- 

• Catalogue of Printed Books in the British Museum, s. v. Pius II, 
G. 21. c. Esdaile, List of English Tales and Prose Romances printed 
before 17^0, Bibliographical Society, 1012, lists this edition as un- 
dated. Hazlitt, according to H. H. Gibbs ( Preface to the Roxburghe 
CluVs reprint, p. vi) would date it "c. 1549," while "Lowndes men- 
tions one by W. Copland, of 1547." As Gibbs suggests, this last date 
is probably an error for 1567. Esdaile lists the edition of 1500 in 
the British Museum (Huth. 51), which Gibbs also mentions on p. vi 
as the property of Henry Huth. Jusserand, The English Novel in 
the Time of Bhakespeare, trans. Elizabeth Lee, 1890, mentions (p. 
82) "one before 1550," evidently without verification. Laneham's 
Captain Cox possessed a copy of "Lucres and Eurialus" {Robert 
Laneham'a Letter, Ed. Fumivall,.N. Y., Duffield, 1907, p. 30), which 
Fumivall discusses at length as a " somewhat warm " story " for an 
embryo Pope to have written" (Intro., pp. xxxixff.). 

• Sir Thomas Elyot, The Boke Named the Govemour, Book n, Ch. 
xn (Ed. Crofts, VoL n, pp. 132 ff.) rehearses the story of Titus and 
Gisippus (Boccaccio, Decameron, Day 10, Novella viii) "to recreate 
the redars which . . . desire varietie of mater " with " a right good- 

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Italy upon Elizabethan prose fiction may be said to have 

Before 1560, the only type of prose fiction largely 
current in England was the medieval romanca The Greek 
novel "represented in the work of lamblichus, Xenephon 
of Ephesus, Heliodorus, Tatius, Chariton, . . . Eus- 
tathius, and . . . Longus ^' ® had not touched Elizabethan 
England, and its influence is negligible. In the diffusion 
of the prose romance in English Caxton had been the 
pioneer, with his editions of The Becuyell of the History 
of Troye (1475?), the History of Jason (1477), Oodef- 
froy of Bologne (1481), Beynart the Foxe (1481), 
Charles the Orete of Fraunce (1485), Le Morte Bar- 

ly example of frendship." Of this Wynkyn de Worde had printed 
a rhymed version by William Walter. Elyot rendered through the 
Latin of Beroaldo. Elyot's purpose is therefore half didactic. In 
1556 two editions appeared of the Histoire de Aurelio et laahelle 
. . . Historia di Aurelio e laaabella . . . Hisioria de Aurelio^ y de 
Ysabela . . . The Historie of Aurelio and of leahell , , , In foure 
langagiea, Frenche, lialien, Spanish, and Inglishe, Of this Miss 
Mary Augusta Scott in her Elizabethan Translations from the Italian 
{Publications of the Modem Language Association of America, Vol. 
X) Part I: Romances, p. 260, writes, "The polyglot editions show 
that Aurelia and Isabell was a favorite romance. It is attributed 
to Jean de Flores, and was translated from the Spanish into Italian 
by lielio Aletifilo and into French by G. Corrozet." This was un- 
doubtedly a text-book to be used in acquiring foreign languages, and 
its purpose was pedagogic. 

•A. J. Tieje, The Critical Heritage of Fiction in 1519, Englische 
Btudien, XLvn (1913), p. 416. Search in Miss Henrietta R. Palmer's 
List of English Editions and Translations of Greek and Latin Clas- 
sics printed before 1641, Bibliographical Society, 1911, and in the 
Catalogue of Printed Books in the British Museum shows that Helio- 
dorus was first englished in The Histoire of Chariolea and Theogenes, 
which appeared in The Amorous and Tragical Tales of Plutarch, 
^hereunto is annexed the History of Caricles and Theoginis . . . 
translated by Ja, Sanferd, 1567; Longus, in Angell Day's Daphnis 
and Chloe, 1687. Cetera desunt. Ovid's Narcissus was rendered 
as verse in 1560. 

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thur (1485), Blanchardine and Eglantine (1489), and 
!Z%e Four Sons of Aymon (1489?). His example was 
followed by De Worde, Pynson, and other printers, who 
not only issued fresh editions of some of these romances, 
but also struck out for themselves J Before 1660 I find 
only two works which fall under the suspicion of being 
original English fiction. The first, Of a Merchau [n] tes 
Wyfe that afterwarde went LyJce a Ma[n] and becam a 
greate Lorde and was Called Frederyhe of Jennen after- 
warde (1618), was printed by J. Dusborowghe and re- 
printed by both Pynson and Vele. The second was A 
Lyttle Treatyse Called the Image of Idlenesse, contayn- 
ynge certain matters moued between Walter WedlocJce 
and Bawdin Bachelor , . . by Olyuer Oldwanton, and 
dedicated to the Lady Lust^ (1658). The former was 

* Among these romances and medieval stories Esdaile or Miss Pal- 
mer lists the following pieces : De Worde, without date, Qesta Romor 
norum; Joseph of Arimathea; TaleMine a/nd Orson (two other editions 
by Copland) ; The Dystruccyon of Iherusalem by Vespazian a/nd 
Tytus (another edition by Pynson, and one by De Worde, 1528); 
Robert the Devil; 1499, Mandeville's Travels (other editions by 
Pynson, N. D., De Worde, 1603, and East, 1568) ; c. 1499, The Thre 
Kynges of Coleyne (1511, 1526, 1530); 1510, Kynge Appolyn of 
Thyre; 1511, Ponthus (1548); 1512, The Knyght of the Bwanne 
. . . Helyas (second edition by Copland) ; 1518, Olyuer of Oasftylle, 
and . . . fayre Helayne daughter unto the Kynge of England. Pyn- 
son, 1513, The Hy story e [of the] 8ege and Destruocyon of Troye 
(Marshe, 1555; Paynell, 1553). Other printers, without date, Kyng 
Wyllyam of Pdleme; Surdyt King of Ireland; Ye, vii Wyse Mobs- 
ters of Rome; 1518, Virgilius (Copland, 1561); J. Duisbrowgh: 
Anwarpe {sio), 1518?, Mary of Nemmegen; The Parson of Kalen- 
borowe, 1520?; N. D., Arthur of Lytle Britain; The Boke of the Oyte 
of Ladyes, 1521; Bemers, 1548?, The Castell of Love . . . whiche 
boke treateth of the love betwene Leriano and Laureola (two other 
editions, N. D.) ; 1551, More, Utopia; 1553, The Historic of Quintus 
Ourtius, Conteyning the Aotes of the greate Alewander. 

■The title curiously anticipates Fullwood's Inimie of Idleness 
(1568), the first English letter-writer. 

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probably a translation of a Gterman chap-book ; the latter 
may. have been a dialogue ; both may be dismissed with- 
out oomment in view of the predominance of the medieval 
romance in fiction before 1560. In that year the direct 
influence of Italy began in Lucres. 

This novel, written in 1444 by -^neas Sylvius Pic- 
colomini, enjoyed extraordinary popularity. Of it we 
may note before 1500 one manuscript and no less than 
seventy-three European editions,® printed in Italy, Ger- 
many, France, Holland, and Spain. By 1560 at least 
seven more versions had appeared on the Continent. It 
was undoubtedly one of the most read stories of the 
whole Eenaissance. 

^neas Sylvius Piccolomini, afterward Pope Pius II, 
bom at Corsignano, the son of a noble of decayed estate, 
proceeded in 1423 to the university at Siena,^^ where at 
that time was lecturing Mariano de' Sozzini, professor of 
jurisprudence, one of the torch-bearers of humanism. To 
him the youth attached himself with the ardor of hero- 
worship,^^ and for him, at Sozzini's request, he wrote 

•In listing and checking editions I have used R. A. Peddie, Con- 
spectus Inouniibulorumf Part I^ London, 1910, who enters a total of 
sixty -two editions before 1600; Hain, Reportorium Bihliographioum, 
1826; Coppinger, Supplement to Hadn's Reportorium, 1898; Esdaile, 
English Tales and Romances; Gibbs's Preface to the Roxburghe Club's 
reprint; Miss Scott's Elizabethan Translations from the Italia/n, i; 
and the Catalogue of Printed Books in the British Museum, s. v. 
Pius II. Mr. Peddie's total is by far the largest. Hain cites thirty- 
six editions. M. Jusserand, The English Novel in the Time of Shake- 
speare, p. 81, writes, " It went through twenty-three editions in the 
fifteenth century, and was eight times translated." All these counts 
are considerably under the actual number of editions. 

"Cecilia M. Ady, Pius II., London, 1913, pp. 3, 8. 

"Ady, p. 13. Compare -^neas Sylvius, De Viris Illustrihus, 
BibUothek des Littera/risohen Vereins in Stuttgart, 1842, Vol. i, p. 27, 
"De Mariano Socino Senensis," in which ^neas draws a most flat- 
tering character of his old teacher. 

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De Duobus Amantihus, the original of Lucres. In 1432 
the Emperor Sigismimd visited Siena, bringing in his 
train one of his favorites, Count Gaspar Schlick, a Ger- 
man nobleman, to whom Sylvius later became strongly 
attached. ^^ More than a year before the Emperor's 
arrival, iEneas had left Siena,^* but this evidently did 
not prevent his hearing of the intrigue of the Count with 
the wife of a Sienese gentleman;, for later in a letter to 
the nobleman, which forms the preface to De Duobus 
Amantihus, he delicately reminds him of his escapade.^* 
That, as has been tentatively suggested, this amour should 
have concerned the wife of Mariano de' Sozzini,^'^ is im- 
possible for two reasons: first, -^neas from motives of 
prudence would hardly have answered his teacher's re- 
quest for a story with the tale of his wife's unfaithful- 
ness, for the mere physical consequences would probably 
have deterred even so prudential a spirit as the future 
Pius II, however much the irony might have appealed 
to him; and secondly, the younger man seems to have 
been too sincerely devoted to his old master, even allow- 
ing for the exaggerations of courtesy, to exhibit him in 

" Creighton, History of the Papacy, Vol. n, p. 242; " At first ^neas 
wished to play the part of Horace to a second Maecenas; but he soon 
learned to change his strain, and adapt himself to the requirements 
of his patron's practical nature." Schlick even gave his dependent a 
place at his table. 

"Ady, p. 13. 

"Roxburghe Club's reprint of Lucres, Appendix, p. xxxiv: "Ideo 
historiam hanc vt legas precor, et an vera scripscrim vidcas. Nee 
reminisci te pudeat si quid huiusmodi non numquam euenerut tibi; 
homo enim fueras, qui numquam sensit amoris ignes aut lapis aut 
bestia est." Compare Voigt, Enea Silvio, pp. 299, 300. 

"Zannoni, Per la atoria tU due ama/nti (Atti della R. Accademia 
dei Lincei, serie iv, vol. vi, pp. 116-127, Rome, 1890) cited by Mrs. 
Ady, Pius II, p. 16, n. 2. 

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the horned role. That the name of the senrant Sosias, 
whom in the story Lucretia finally makes her confidant, 
resembles in appearance the Latin form Zodnus, cannot 
be admitted as of weight in the identification. If, then, 
one accept the Eurialns of the novel as Count Schlick,^® 
Lucretia must remain unidentified. 

Thus, tiiough the heroine be not the wife of Sozzini, the 
situation of the novella has a definable basis of fact. But 
a realistic situation does not make a realistic novel. It 
is therefore necessary, first, to examine the plot, then to 
determine how far iEneas Sylvius attempted to repro- 
duce recorded events, and finally to see what means he 
took to assure artistic verisimilitude. 

The story of De Duohus Amantibus runs as follows : — ^'^ 

On the entry of the Emperor Sigismund into Si^ia, he was 
greeted by a quartette of matrons, among whom the Lady Lucretia, 
wife of Menelaus, to whom she had been married against her will, 
excelled in beauty. With her the courtier Eurialus, a Franconian 
noble, fell desperately in love, and she reciprocated his affection. 
Midway between the Emperor's court and the house of Eurialus 
stood the residence of the curmudgeon Menelaus, and Lucretia 
from her windows prosecuted successfully her flirtation with the 
courtier as he passed to and from the royal presence. One day 
the Emperor, riding by with his train, jestingly thrust the bonnet 
of Eurialus over his eyes with the remark, "Nee videbis . . . quod 
amas; ego hoc spectaculo fruor." The lady, burning with love, 
attempted to enlist the aid of her husband's servant Sosias, but 
he, mindful of the honor of the house, rebuked her; whereupon 
she threatened suicide. Sosias half-heartedly yielded, and he de- 
clared her love to Eurialus so enigmatically that the knight failed 
to understand him. At last Eurialus could endure his torment 
no longer. He dispatched to Lucretia a letter, evidently written 
at dictation by a professional scribe, in which he declared his 

"CJompare Creighton, vol. n, p. 247, and also Rossi, Storia Lette- 
furiti, " n Quattrocento," pp. 126-27. 

" Condensed from the novella as reprinted in the Roxburghe Club's 
Historic of Sir Pl<i8idas, pp. xxxvi, ff. 

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love, but he sent it by a procuress. The cautious Lucretia spurned 
the bawd and tore up the letter in her presence, but on the woman's 
departure she collected the bits, read them, and covered them with 
a thousand kisses. Thus b^^n their correspondence. Eurialus 
was a little hindered by his ignorance of Italian; so he set dili- 
gently to work to learn the language, a study in which love spurred 
him on. An attempt on the part of Lucretia to arrange an in- 
terview through the innocent connivance of her mother miscarried 
because of the older woman's sudden suspicion. 

At this juncture Eurialus was sent by the Emperor to Rome to 
treat with the Pope in regard to the coronation, a mission 
which kept him some two months. During this time Lucretia 
languished, but on the return of her lover she regained her 
spirits, in particular when Nysus, the friend of Eurialus, found 
in an inn a room which had a window near Lucretia's chamber. 
Thus the two lovers were enabled to snatch interviews and even 
to exchange tokens. Sosias, seeing how public the affair was like 
to become, decided to aid his mistress. With his aid Eurialus 
disguised himself as a porter, one of a number engaged in putting 
grain into the cellar, and thus made his way to his lady. Even 
as he held her fast, Sosias knocked, with the word that Menelaui 
had returned unexpected. With the husband came a scribe, Bertus, 
on business connected with the city. Lucretia, quick of resource, 
hid her lover in a closet. But certain papers which Menelaus had 
to have were missing; they were probably in the very closet in 
which Eurialus was hidden. By upsetting a box of jewels into 
the street, Lucretia gained the time it took for her husband and 
the scribe to recover them, and thus saved Eurialus. At last 
the intruders departed and left the lovers to themselves. But 
Eurialus was nervous; he found it impossible to enjoy his stay. 
So he, too, went, clad in his porter's disguise, wondering what 
the Emperor would say if he encountered his servant in those 

Now appeared another follower of the Emperor, Pacorus, a 
Pannonian, who by means of a note concealed in the stalks of 
a bunch of violets sought to serve Lucretia. But she, both pru- 
dent and true to Eurialus, informed Menelaus, who complained 
to the Emperor. For a time Pacorus was silent. At length on 
a winter's day he joined a group of young Sienese bloods snow- 
balling with some ladies in their windows, and, cunningly en- 
closing a note in wax and that in a snowball, he cast it into 
Lucretia's room. But. unfortimately the snowball fell into the 
fire, the wax melted, Menelaus read the missive, ''nouasque lites 
excitauerunt quas Pacorus non excusatione sed fuga yitauit." 

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Meanwhile Menelaus was called away. Eurialus, in the hope 
of seeing his lady, concealed himself in the stable, whence, after 
being nearly pitchforked by Dromo, a servant feeding the horses, 
he was rescued by the quick wits of Sosias; but this expedient 
procured him only a scant hour with Lucretia, because Menelaus 
returned. The lovers fell upon evil days. But Pandalus, a re- 
lation of Menelaus, aided them, hoping thereby to gain political 
advancement. Once more Menelaus was summoned away for the 
night. According to agreement Eurialus, with his friend Achates 
waiting outside, forced himself in at a door, only to have his lady 
faint with joy in his arms. She soon revived, and they reaped 
the f niits of love. 

But the Emperor, being reconciled with the Pope, left Siena 
for Home. Eurialus made the mistake of not informing Lucretia, 
thinking to spare her feelings. In an exchange of letters she 
begged her lover to take her with him, and he swore to return to 
her. They parted. At Rome Eurialus was taken sick of a fever, 
but he recovered in time to be knighted at the coronation. When 
the Emperor moved to Perugia, the lover, too ill to accompany 
him, stayed for a time in Rome, then returned to Siena. But he 
could procure only a glimpse of his lady. Again they parted, this 
time forever. Lucretia died of a broken heart. Eurialus was com- 
pelled to follow the Emperor to Perugia, then to Ferrara, Mantua, 
Tridentum, Constantia, and Basel, and into Hukigary and Bohemia. 
He found no consolation till Sigismund gave him a beautiful girl to 

Now in this plot one is surprised to observe the accuracy 
with which ^Eneas Sylvius employed historical events. 
Sigismund reached Siena in July, 1432.^® Here he de- 
termined to remain till he could go to Kome to be crowned. 
At every turn he was opposed by the Pope, Eugenius IV. 
But Eugenius discovered that matters were going against 
him and within the month he had renewed negotiations 
with Sigismund.^^ Affairs dragged on with the attitude of 
the Council at Basel becoming daily more troublesome. At 

" Creighton, vol. n, p. 76. Pastor, History of the Popes, Ed. F. I. 
Antrobus, London, 1902, vol. i, gives an account of these events so 
unpolitical as to be almost useless in the present investigation. 

* Creighton, History of tthe Papacy, vol. n, p. 76. 

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Siena the position of Sigismimd, deserted by his allies, 
was grown pitiable enough, but he was still determined 
to pacificate Italy and to be crowned Emperor. Eugeniua, 
wearying of the struggle, had already made overtures, 
and about the end of March or the first of April, Sigis- 
mund seems to have sent envoys to Rome for the purpose 
of treating with the Pope. Of this embassy Eurialus, 
that is. Count Schlick, may have been a member. On 
April 7, 1432, the preliminaries of the coronation were 
adjusted. ^^ Sigismund probably left Siena between May 
9, the day on which he dispatched envoys to Basel urging 
the Council to treat kindly the Papal legates, and May 
19, two days before he entered Rome.^^ Among his six 
hundred knights rode the disconsolate Eurialus, just part- 
ed from bis Lucretia. On Whit Sunday, May 31, 1433, 
Sigismund was crowned Emperor. Of the knights dub- 
bed on the bridge of San Angelo by Sigismund in the 
exercise of his new authority, one was his chancellor. Gas- 
par Schlick.^^ 

The sununer Sigismimd spent in Rome with the Pope. 
But toward the middle of August the Emperor became 
aware that his presence was needed at Basel. Accordingly 
on August 21 he set out. Eurialus, just recovering from 
his fever, could not accompany him, and this opportunity 
he snatched for his final parting with Lucretia, rejoining 
the suite at Perugia. The route of the Emperor lay 
through Rimini, Ferrara, Mantua, and thence to Basel,^^ 
where he arrived on October 11 and stayed till May 19, 
1434.^* With Cardinal Capriano to Basel had gone his 
new secretary iEneas Sylvius, whose relations with Count 
Schlick probably began at this time.^^ 

••/ftid., p. 81. . «76t<i., p. 83. **Ihid. 

** Ibid, " Ihid., p. 86. « Ibid., p. 76. 

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Later movements of the Emperor and his suite are 
somewhat more uncertain. On account of trouble with 
the Bohemians Sigismund and the envoys of the Council 
met representatives of the country in Briinn in the early 
summer of 1435. By this time it is possible that the 
heart of Eurialus had sufficiently healed for him to 
espouse the beautiful virgin proposed by Sigismund.^® 
The Emperor appeared on July 1, two weeks after the 
Bohemians and six after the men sent by the CoimciL 
Undoubtedly this gathering is that which Eurialus at- 
tended. As to the expedition into Hungary mentioned 
in the novella less can be said with certainty. Trouble 
in that country was intermittent from 1413 till 1437, 
when the Empress Barbara instituted the conspiracy to 
elevate Ladislas of Poland to the thrones of Bohemia and 
Hungary. Sigismund, on discovering the plot, having as 
one remaining ambition the securing of the throne of 
Hungary to Albert, left Prague on November 11, 1437,^'' 
in an open litter accompanied by the Empress and the 
Count of Cilly, and reached Znaym on November 21. On 
this last journey Count Schlick as Imperial Chancellor 
undoubtedly accompanied his master. Sigismund died 
at Znaym on December 9, 1437. Schlick's disgrace and 
downfall under Frederick III shortly preceded the 
Chancellor's death in July, 1449. ^^ 

Thus, if the situation of the novella is based on fact, 
the incidents, so far as they can be corroborated by his- 
torical evidence, are no less precisely grounded. In that 

"•Roxburghe Club, Appendix, p. Ixvi. If Eurialus reached Basel 
after he had married, the order of the events in the novel is slightly 

" Creighton, vol. n, p. 161. 

»Ady, Pius II, p. 111. 

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impression of circuiofitantiality which -^neas wished to 
produce upon his patron he was no doubt successful. 

Much the same can be said of his choice of episodes 
and details, though here, of course, there can be no such 
sure check. The exactness with which the location of 
Menelaus's house is fixed with reference to the court and 
the lodgings of Eurialus; the Emperor's jest; Sosias's 
unusual declaration of Lucretia's love; the incident of 
the bawd and Eurialus's first letter; his ignorance of 
Italian; his nervousness and his inability to enjoy his 
stay when at last left alone with his lady; the ingenuity 
of Pacorus; the conventional picture of Sienese life in 
winter; the saving of Eurialus in the stable from the 
pitchfork of Dromo; tiie covetousness of Pandalus as a 
motive for his betrayal of his cousin's honor, — ^these are 
but a few of the means whereby -^neas strove to gain 
verisimilitude. Nor is the character of Sigismund for- 
gotten;^® if he had met Eurialus as a porter, he would 
have made his servant the most miserable man in Siena. 

That such a document, written in youth by Pope Pius 
II, involving persons of high rank, and containing a 
story exceptionally well told, should have been among*^ 
the first translations from the Italian novella into Eng- 
lish prose is not surprising. As the names of the chief 
characters show, it is a product of the humanism of the 
Renaissance.*^ iEneas Sylvius twice visited England 

'iEneas Sylvius, De Viria Illustrihua, p. 65: "Fuit autem Sigis- 
mund . . . vasto animo . . . vini cupidus ... in Venerem ardens, 
mille adulteriis criminosus . . . facilis ad veniam/' etc. For illus- 
tration of some of these traits, cf . " De Barbara Imperatrice," p. 46. 
Such a monarch would have chaflfed Eurialus immercifully. 

""Elyot had, it will be recalled, rendered the tale of Titus and 
Gisippus from one version of the Decameron for his Oovemour. 

« Cf . Rossi, " II Quattrocento," Storia Letteraria d'ltdlia, Ed. Val- 
lardi, Milano, 1897-98, vol. v, pp. 126-27. 

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in the autumn of 1435.'^ He also went once to Scot- 
land. On his first visit to England his doings were mostly 
diplomatic; in Scotland, whither he journeyed via Sluys 
after returning to Bruges, not only was he well received 
by James I, but on his return through England he suf- 
fered shipwreck, hardship, threatened attack by the Scots 
on the border, and other misadventures. His comments 
on both England and Scotland are shrewd and detailed, 
such, indeed, as might be expected from the diplomat- 
realist of De Duohus Amantihus,^^ That, however, this 
visit had aught to do with the selection of the novel for 
translation into English is doubtful; the extraordinary 
popularity of the work in other countries would have 
been enough to attract a reader of Italian fiction who was 
commercially inclined. Furthermore, some of -^neas's 
eclogues had already reached England in the translations 
of Alexander Barclay. 

The exact text which the English translator of the 
novel used is not identifiable; in any event, the edition 
of 1567, as reprinted by the Koxburghe Club, was not 
render^ from the Argentine edition of 1476, nor yet 
from the version of 1490.^* But before 1550, the earliest 

«• Ady, p. 41. Creighton, vol. n, pp. 236-239. Pastor, vol. i, p. 342, 
gives the date s 1438. But in 1438 .^^eas accompanied the Bishop 
of Novara to Vienna and suffered at Basel with the plague (Creigh- 
ton, vol. n, p. 240). By 1438 he had passed from the Cardinal's 

"Creighton, vol. n, pp. 237 ff., citing .^hieas Sylvius, Episiolae, 
czxvi; Ady, pp. 41, ff., relying on Commeniarii, Lib. i, p. 4, and the 
EpistoUie, loc. oit For iOneas's impressions of James I, cf. De Viria 
lUustrihus, pp. 46-47; of Henry V, ibid., pp. 40 ff. 

"^The Latin versions of the story involved are (1) the Argentine 
print (1476) of the Vienna MS. (1446), and (2) the edition of 1490. 
(1) is reprinted in the Roxburghe Club's Appendix, pp. xxxiii, ff., 
with collations from (2). I have in part collated this version with 
the English of 1567, which may have been a reprint of the edition of 

Digitized by 




possible date for an English version, so far as we know, 
there existed renderings in Italian,^^ German,^® Span- 
ish,^'' and French.*® The field of choice for the English 
translator was therefore texts in these four languages and 
in Latin. 

A comparison of The Goodli History of Lucres with 

1660; there is no reason to think that it was a separate redaction. 
A very few of the results of this collation may be tabulated as 


p. xxxvi : Vrbem . Se- 
nas unde tibi et mihi 
origo est, intranti, etc. 
Ibid.: cophorum 
Ihid,: (sicut nos dic- 
p. xxxvii: Lacking. 

Ibid.: Lacking, 
p. xl: postes 

p. xli: Omits name or 

p. xliv : Jason Medeam Jason Medeam 
(cuius auxilio uigil- pit, etc. 
em interemit draco- 
nem, et uellus auream 
asportuit ) reliquit, etc. 
Ibid,: Adriane 
p. liv: Pacoru« inter ea 
Pannonius eques» do- 
mo nobilis, qui cesar- 
em sequebatur, ardere 
Luscresiam cepit. 



Like 1446. 

p. 113: Lacking. 


Ibid.: Tophore 

Like 1446. 

Ibid.: Lacking. 

Et sic orpheus 


p. 115: Lacking. 

cithare siluas ac 


fert traxisse, etc. 

Nunc auro illitis 


Ibid.: Lacking 

muricis, etc. 


p. 119: poostes. 

porcia Cathonis 

p. 120: Perria. 

Inserts Eurialus 

p. 122: Uses pronoun. 

dece- p. 128: Jason that 
wanna the golden 
flece by Medeas coun- 
sell, forsoke her. 

Like 1476. 

rbid» : Tum anus, ' 
cipe," inquit. 

Ibid.: Adriana. 
p. 142: In the mean 
tyme a knight, called 
Pacorus, of a noble 
House followinge the 
Emperour, began to 
loue Lucres, etc. 
Re- Tum Anus, ' Respice,* p. 143 : Take the floure 
inquit. madame quod ye oldc 

wyf e, etc. 

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De Duohus Amantibus, which in the accessible Latin 
versions is unchanged, will show that the English trans- 
lation differs from the original in certain rather impor- 
tant particulars. For the most part the two plots are 
identical until the close of the story. Here, however, 

pp. liv-lv: Ille mestiu Omits domwn pergit Ibid.: goeth home, 
domum pergit, vxor- to vwar. blameth hya wyf e, and 

em ificrepat, domum fylleth all the house 

que clamoribus implet, wythe noyse. And 

negat se ream vxor, shee to the contrarye 

remque gestam expo- denyeth that there is 

nit, etc one faute in her, and 

tellynge the hole tale, 
bryngethe the olde 
wyfe for wytnesse. 
(Last six words in 
neither Latin text.) 
p. Ivi : Kec enim sine Like 1476. p. 146 : For I can slepe 

te nox est mihi vlla no nyghts wtoute 

iocunda, thee, eto. 

p. Mi: sicut Mene- sicut Menelaus suasit, p. 147: At Menelaus 
la.u8 suasit, in gratiM magistratus expulit. persuasion was putte 
expulit. out by the Aldermen. 

•PeUechet, 170; Peddie, p. 8, N. D.: Proctor, Indew, 5946; Peddie, 
p. 8, N. D. : Hisioria di due amanti composto da Silvio Enea Pontifioe 
Pio II, etc (Florentiae), N. D., Hain, 246: Proemio . . . Bopra la 
hiatoria di due amanti: composia di papa Pio secundo (Rome? 1405?) 
Brit. Mu8. Cat.: 2Enea>e SUpU HUitoria de dtue Amanti, Firena per 
Francesco de Dino di lacopo, 1489; Hain, 247: Reichling, Appen- 
dices ad Hainii'Coppingeri Reportorium; Peddie, p. 145, 1491, Bres- 
cia: Historia de due Amanti . . . Bologna per Hercules Nani, H92, 
Hain, 248; Peddie, p. 8: Epistole de dui amanti . . . Venestia, 1521, 
other editions, 1531, 1554, Brit. Mus. Gat. 

^Der durchlUchtigen hoohgehomen fUrstin vund frowen, froto 
Kethervn^ hertzogin von Oaterrich, etc. c. 1477, Coppinger, 73: Strass- 
burg, ISOO? Coppinger, 76; Peddie, p. 145: Enee Bilvii von der Lieh 
Eurydli und Lucrezia, zu Augsburg, HIS, Hain, 241: Der durch- 
leuchtigen hoch gebomen FUrstin und frawcn, frau katherinen Hert- 
zogin von Osterreich, eto. 1477 [Esslingen], Hain, * 242, Brit. Mus. 
Oat.: [Der dUrchlUchtigen hochgebomen fUrstin vnd frowen, froto 
Ketherin€ hertzogin von Osterreich, etc.l . . . Mentz . . . 1478, Cop- 

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Eurialus, instead of being easily consoled by the beauti- 
ful virgin given him by the Emperor, undergoes a far 
harder fate. *^Whe[n] he knewe hys true louer to be 
deed, meaued by extreme doloure [Eurialus] clothed him 
in moumynge apparrell, and vtterly excluded all co[m]- 
forte, and yet though the Emperoure gaue hym in manage 
a ryghte noble and excellente Ladye, yet he neuer enioyed 
after, but in conclusyon pitifully wasted his painful 
lyfe.^'*® Such a violent change in the life and charac- 
ter of the hero could not have depended upon a mis- 
understanding of the Latin. It stands in direct contrast 
to the realism of the novella. Aside from this, the most 
important alteration in character concerns Dromo, the 
hostler. In De Duohus Amantibvs he is a more or less 

pinger, n, 74; Peddle, p. 146: Ein hUhsohe hiatori wm Luoreoia v6 den 
zwey liehhdbend^ menachen . . . Augsburg . . . 1^91, Coppinger, n, 
3550; Peddle, p. 8: Von den liehhabendS Euriolo vn Luoretia . . . 
15S6, Brit, Mu8, Oat.: Ein . . . Hiatori, von moeyen Liehhahenden 
Menaohen . . . N. von Weil . . . Wormha [1650?], Brit. Mua, Oa4. 

" Euri<Uua y Lucreoic^ Scdamanoa, Oct. 18, 1496, Coppinger, m, 
72a; Peddle, p. 8: Hiatoria muy veradera de doa amwntea Ettrialo 
Franco y Lucreoio Beneaa . . . Seville, 1512, Brit. Mua. Oat. 

** Enauyt liatoire dea deuw vraya amana ... a paria par michel le 
noir, K. D., Ham, 245; , . . Oy fine le liure dea deum vraya amaia 
. . . lyon par Oliuier Amoullet, N. D., Coppinger, 76: Hiatoire de 
Eurialua et Luoreaae. Selon Pape pie 1492, Haln, 243; Peddle, p. 8, 
N. D.; Coppinger, [1403]: Lyatoire de Eurialua et Luoreaae . . . 
(verse), [1493?] Hain, 244; Peddle, p. 8, N. D.; Brit. Mua. Oat. 

''Roxbiirghe Club reprint, p. 161. Compare JuBserand, Engliah 
Novel in the Time of Bhakeapea/re, pp. 82, 83. The Latin text for 
this pasage runs as follows (p. bnri) : "Quam vt obllsse veniB ama- 
tor cognoult, magno dolore permotus lugubrem vestem receplt; nee 
oonsola^ionem admisit, nisi postqua77» Cesar ex ducal i sanguine virgi- 
nem slbl cum formosam turn castlsslmam atque prudentem matrlmo- 
nlo iunxit.'' Savj-Ix)pez recognizes types of character In De Duobua 
Ama/ntihua, and also a relation to Boccaccio in the name Pandaro. 
(" II Filostrato di G. Boccaccio," Romania,Yo\. xxvn, p. 469). Volgt 
had previously noted the resemblance to Boccaccio (Enea Bilvio, 
p. 287.) So, too, had Rossi ("H Quattrocento," pp. 126-27). 


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conventional figure.*^ In Lucres he becomes a humorous 
fellow of far greater interest. A type he may still be, 
but he is essentially an English figure with his racy com- 
plaining and his oaths/^ even though the suggestions 
for both are to be found in the Latin. Of changes which 
affect the milieu of the story, only a few can be noted. 
iEneas Sylvius wrote of Siena as he knew it. The Eng- 
lish translator wrote of it as a city of romance. It would 
have been manifestly impossible for any translator to 
make use of -^neas's references to the town as his birth- 
place,*^ and they therefore are omitted. Furthermore, 
the English version passes over certain moral reflections 
which retard the plot,** and alters a few of the classical 
allusions.** From all this, then, it may be seen that 
one of the translators, whether he who rendered the 
story into English or an intermediary from whose work 
the English version was taken, made some attempt to 
adapt the story to new readers. A collation of parts of 
the available texts with a view to establishing the pres- 
ence or absence of an intermediary version in, say, French, 
has proved inconclusive.**^ 

But The Ooodli History of Lucres has a more impor- 
tant bearing upon the technique of the Elizabethan novel. 
So far as I know, it is the first story in Tudor England 
in which the plot is organically dependent for its ad- 
vancement upon the instrument of the letter. Elyot's 

*• Roxburghe Club, Appendix, p. Ivi. 

^^Roxburghe Club reprint, p. 146. 

•For example, Appendix, p. xxxvi. 

*For instance, the long disquisition on nobility and the frequent 
scandal of its origin, Reprint, p. 162; Appendix, pp. Ix, f . 

**Like that to Orpheus, p. xxxvi, which should appear on p. 115; 
part of the allusion to Jason, p. xliv, which should occur on p. 128. 

•JuBserand, p. 83, seems to be of the opinion that the English 
translator rendered and adapted directly from the Latin. 

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version of Titiis and Oisippus contains no epistles. The 
Histoire of Avrelio and of Isabell I have not seen, but 
its influence upon stories told for entertainment cannot 
be large. The Goodli History of Lucres contains no less 
than ten letters. The first, from Eurialus to Lucres^ 
makes known his love. The second, from Lucres in re- 
ply, declares her chastity and is aimed at discouraging 
her lover. In the third, Eurialus's first effort in Italian, 
he assures her of his belief in her chastity, but begs that 
she will allow him speech with her, so that he may " de- 
clare hys mynde, that he coulde not by hys letters.^' In 
the fourth. Lucres again refuses him, telling him that he 
is not the first victim of her beauty, but with it she sends 
a love token, a ring. The fifth is Eurialus's reaffirma- 
tion of his love and devotion, with thanks for the ring. 
Then, **after mani writings and answeres,'' Lucres replies 
with the sixth letter in the series, in which she desires 
him not to plead further, but with which she sends a 
cross of gold. Eurialus in the seventh, somewhat daunt- 
ed by her aloofness, begs her to receive him as a lover. 
In the eighth she capitulates. "After thys were manye 
letters wryten on both partyes.^' Their courtship then 
progresses till Lucres discovers that Eurialus is to ac- 
company the Emperor to Rome. At that she writes the 
ninth letter of the series, upbraiding her lover for not 
telling her and begging him to take her with him. He 
replies in the tenth that he must go because honor com- 
pels him, but bids her live and love him. Later they evi- 
dently correspond again. These letters therefore hold 
the beginning and the end of the lovers' relations. 

Of the first three important English collections of 
stories, Painter's Pallace of Pleasure (1566-67), Fenton's 
Tragicall Discourses! (1567), and Pettie's Palace of Pet- 


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tie his Pleasure (1576), all contain stories with letters. 
Eight of Painter's hundred tales employ the epistle.^^ 
Each of these eight stories without exception has its 
original in BandeUo.^^ Of Fenton's thirteen stories, aU 
translated from BandeUo, eight have epistles, and two of 
the eight contain interchanges of letters.*® So much for 

^ Painter, PtUlace of Pleasure, E<L Jacobs, London, 1890, 4 vols., 
Tome I : Lucrece, in which " Lucrece sent a post to Rome to her 
father and another to Ardea to her husband," but neither is given in 
full (Vol. I, p. 23). In the Duchesse of Savoie, in which the 
Duchess writes to Appian of her plight (p. 309); The Countess 
of 8€Uusburie, in which King Edward writes to the Countess of his 
love, which previously he had declared orally (Vol. i, p. 343). 
Tome n: The Cowntess of CeUmt, in which the wicked Coiintess 
proffers her love to Gaizzo by letter (Vol. ni, p. 61) ; Two Oentle- 
men of Venice, in which the lovers send each other a sonnet, called 
in the text, "a letter" (p. 129-130) ; The Lord of Virile, in which 
Philiberto woos Zelia by letter (pp. 166-167) : Don Diego and Oin- 
evra, in which by an epistle Ginevra declares her enmity and her 
lover replies (pp. 244-245) . Again he protests his love (pp. 255, ff.) ; 
The Lords of 'Socera, in which the mistress of the castle writes to 
Lord Nicholas proposing that he visit her. 

^'See Analytical Table of Contents, Vol. i, pp. Ixiii, ff. 

*■ Certain Tragical Discourses of Bandello Translated into English 
by Geffraie Fenton, Ed. R. L. Douglas, Tudor Translations, 2 vols., 
1889 : Discourse n, " Lyvyo writeth to Camilla," Vol. i, p. 121 ; Dis- 
course m, Parthenope lays suit to the dissolute Pandora (Vol. i, pp. 
138-39) ; when he has found her out and abandoned her, she writes 
to him upbraiding him (Vol. i, pp. 147-48) ; Discourse v, Cornelio 
writes to Plaudina, opening his addresses (Vol. i, pp. 198-99); she 
replies, arranging for further correspondence (pp. 200-201). It later 
appears (p. 204) that he has written ''sondrye letters." Afterwards 
they exchange word by messenger (p. 212). At last Cornelio goes to 
Milan, where it is his first care to ** send for an appoticarye whose 
fidelitie he had erst proved in the enterchaunge and conveighe of 
diverse letters betwene his ladie and hym." By this man he sent a 
letter (not given verbatim) to apprise Plaudina of his coming (p. 
228) ; Discourse vi, an abbot writes to the daughter of a goldsmith, 
whom he is seducing (Vol. i, p. 257). Discourse vn, the Countess of 
Celant (cf. Painter, Vol. in, p. 61) procures a fresh lover by a letter 

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the earlier translationfl. Besides, five of Pettie's twelve 
novels contain letters, and among these five there are 
interchanges in three.*® Now the important fact which 
unites Lucres, Painter, and Fenton is that the letters in 
every case are from Italian sources. It may therefore be 
said that the convention of the letter reached English 
fiction from the Italian. *^^ 

Moreover, in the first stage of Elizabethan fiction, as 
represented by Lucres, Painter, and Fenton, the letter 
usually had two purposes: first, to begin a courtship; 
secondly, to end it In the second stage, as represented 
by Pettie, it has outgrown its rudimentary use and is 
applied to other purposes, like offering and rejecting mar- 
riage, giving warning of the attitude of unsympathetic 

(Vol. n, pp. 30-31). DiacouTBe xi, Philiberto offers Zylia his love by 
letter (Vol. n, pp. 181-82). Discourse xn, Perillo, having met Gar- 
mosyna before, presses his suit by letter. She answers favorably. 
(Vol. n, pp. 220 ff.) Discourse xni, when Diego's love for Geni- 
vera grows cold, she reproaches him by letter (Vol. n, pp. 276, ff.). 
Of. Painter, VoL m, pp. 224, f . 

^A Petite Palace of Pettie his Pleasure, Ed. Gollancz, 2 vols. 
King's Classics. loilius and Virginia: The lovers exchange letters, 
he proffering, she rejecting marriage (Vol. i, pp. 151 ff.). Admetus 
and Alcest: Alcest writes to Admetus, warning him that her father 
has discovered their love (Vol. i, pp. 177, ff.). After consideration, 
Admetus replies, pressing marriage (pp. 180-82). Curiatius and 
Horatia: Curiatius (Vol. n, pp. 41-42) will absent himself eternally 
from his queen, but she relents (pp. 42-43). Minos and Pasiphae: 
Verecimdus seeks to seduce Minos's queen by letter (Vol. n, pp. 98- 
90). Alexius: Alexius is used to write letters for his recreation, 
addressing his wife. Here (VoL n, pp. 153, ff.) he writes her a moral 

"* William Fullwood's Inimie of Idleness contains a series of love 
letters for use as models. The rise of the letter in Elizabethan fiction 
was undoubtedly contemporary with its rise in Elizabethan life. 
Whether or not Mneaa Sylvius was endebted to a collection of letters 
for the idea of the epistles in De Duobus Amantihus, I cannot say. 

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parents^ and even inculcating moral precepts."^ The uses 
to which writers of later native fiction, like The Oolden 
Aphroditis and Euphues, put the letter need not detain us 
here ; the observation that the source is Italian is indubit- 
able, and the course of artistic purpose as it evolved in 
English, beginning with Lucres, gaining ground in Painter 
and Fenton, and finally emerging variously in Pettie, is 

HowAKD J. Savage. 

" Painter, ed. Jacobs, vol. n, pp. 76, flf. The inculcation of moral 
doctrine by means of the epistle was anticipated by Painter's use of 
Guevara's Letters of Trajam, 

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When the reader of to-day considers the English origins 
of our monthly magazines of light literature, he seldom 
thinks back beyond the Gentleman's Magazine (1731-). 
The Tatter (1709-) and Spectator (1711-) he may regard 
as aside from the direct line of development, as they are 
not miscellanies. Yet in 1692 appeared in London a 
monthly periodical that is fairly startling in its resem- 
blance to the AtlanticSj the Harper's, the Smart Sets of our 
^ day, — the Gentleman's Journal, which is, I believe, the 
first notable English venture of its kind. 

Previous periodicals for " divertisement " had been of 
a different character and short-lived. During the reigns 
of Charles II and James II, the gust for news, or for com- 
ment upon the political and religious situation, had been so 
great that when anything in lighter vein was attempted it 
was apt to appear in the form of mock-news, and to depend 
for its appeal on a satirical or burlesque handling of its 
items and anecdotea Thus side by side with such genuine 
news sheets as Mercurius Publicus (1680) and the True 
Protestant Domestick Intelligence; or. News both from 
City and Country (1680) were to be found Mercurius 
Infemus (1680) and News from Parnassus (1680), both 
of purely jocular intent. 

But after William III came to the throne, and the plot 
to re-establish James had been discovered and suppressed, 
political and religious differences gradually ceased to in- 
flame men's minds. There was no question of William's 
attitude towards Protestantism, as there had been of 
Charles's ; nor of William's policy towards France, for he 
was fighting on the Continent as the heart and soul of the 

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allied Protestant resistance against that tyrant and bully 
of Enrope, Louis XIV; and he obviously derived his 
power from the people, to whom he owed his throne. One 
of the burning questions in James's reign had been the 
origin of kingly authority, whether divine or popular. So 
London in 1692, though feeling the effects of prosecuting 
a war on the Continent, had a mind comparatively at rest 
with respect to the domestic situation, and could relax her 
vigilance over political and religious matters long enough 
to take pleasure in periodicals that made no pretense to 
being newspapers. Hence the rise of the Oerdleman's Jour- 
ruU, catering to the coterie of the polite world of London, 
and of the Athemmi Mercury, that extraordinary seven- 
teenth-century Notes and Queries, appealing to all classes. 

The Oentleman's Journal was conceived and carried on 
by Peter Anthony Motteux. Motteux, bom in Normandy, 
had in 1685 come to live in England. By 1692 he had 
assimilated with remarkable completeness the English 
idiom and English ways of thinking. In fact his allegiance 
to France came to consist only in his appreciation of her 
literature. He is best known by his excellent translations 
of Rabelais, and Cervantes, and is a minor figure among 
the English dramatists of his day. 

During 1673-4 and 1678-9, Le Mercure Oalant had 
come out monthly in Paris, a miscellany that owed its 
popularity to the prominence it gave to court news and 
gossip. It was the Town Topics of Paris, with light litera- 
ture of a gallant kind, a few songs set to music, and a few 
engraved illustrations interspersed. It was designed for 
the smart set and they made many contributions to it. 
Each number was in the form of a letter to a lady who had 
left Paris for the provinces, but who wished to keep in 
touch with the beaux esprits, her former acquaintance. 

Motteux confesses in the first number of the Oentle- 

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mans Journal for January, 1692, that this Mercure Oalant 
, is the source of his inspiration. He too adopts the epis- 
tolary form which is announced in his title, The Oentle- 
man's Journal: or the Monthly Miscellany. By Way of 
Letter to a Gentleman in the Country. Consisting of 
News, History J Philosophy, Poetry, Musich, Translations, 
&c. Each number begins like a personal letter to a corre- 
spondent Thus the first number opens, 


Indeed you impose too hard a Task on me: Is it not enough that 
I send you what ever news or new things I meet with to divert you 
in your solitude, but you must oblige me to print my Letters? 
You ought in conscience to have discharged me from my rash 
promise. I know, you tell me, that this may redeem many glorious 
Actions and ingenious pieces from obscurity, the first too particular 
for our Gazettes, and the latter too short to be printed apart; that 
a thousand things happen every day which the publlck would gladly 
know: but must I acquaint the world with them, whoi so many 
better pens might do it? I grant that from London, the Heart of 
the Nation, all things circulating to the other parts, such news or 
new things as are sent me may be conveyed every where, being 
inserted in my Letter. . . and you tell me, that 'tis to be hop'd that I 
shall have enough sent me to make the undertaking easie to me. . . . 
But we live in so nice an age, that imless they [the readers] look upon 
it with a kind eye, the unaccuracies of Style, and Faults which haste, 
and my own incapacity must needs make very frequent in so long 
a Letter, will hardly be indulged. However you have my word, and 
tho you as it were racked it from me, you have no mercy, and I 
must set up for a Journalist. 

This letter form is kept up throughout each number. 
Contributions are introduced with a sentence or so of edi- 
torial comment. At the end Motteux signs himself, 

I am, SIR, 

Your most humble Servant, 

P. M. 

Motteux was not indebted to Le Mercure Oalant alone 
for the epistolary model. It was a favorite form of the 
day. In spite of the numbers and popularity of the news- 

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papers, news-letters, both printed and in manuscript, were 
still for sale in London for country correspondence, with 
space left at the beginning and end for the personal ad- 
dress and private items of news, and with a vacant fourth 
page destined to serve as the envelope. The earliest scien- 
tific periodical, Philosophical Transactions (1665-), event-^ 
ually the official organ of the Eoyal Society, received and 
printed many contributions in the form of letters. 

Setting aside the letter form, the Oentleman's Journal is 
strikingly modem in its make-up. Each number is a 
quarto pamphlet of, usually, thirty-four pages, the outside 
leaf being the title page.^ 


Gentleman's Journal: 




By Way of 



Gentleman in the (X)UNTRY. 

ConsiBting of 

IfewB, History^ Philosophyy Poetry, 

Mustek, Trcmalations, do. 

JANUARY 1691/2. 

Paulum sepultae distat inertiae 
Celata virtus, non ego te meis 
Ohartis inomatum sUeho: 
Totve tuos patiar Idborea 
Impune, Lolli, carpere lividas 
Ohliviones, . . . Hor. 


Printed; And are to bQ sold by R, Baldwin, near the Owford Arms, 

in Warwiclc-l(me. 1692. 

^ Beginning with Vol. II a device appears in the center of the title 
page, an oval lozenge, enclosing a hand holding a nosegay of flowers, 
above which runs the motto, E PLURIBUS UNUM. 

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On the reverse of this is a table of contents, with titles of 
the articles, the number of the page on which each is to be 
^ found, and the names of the contributors. Before this the 
public knew that several hands went to the making of a 
periodical, but they did not know, save in the case of 
Philosophical Transactions, who the contributors were, or 
what was the contribution of each. But there is plenty of 
evidence, in these modem-seeming title pages, of the old 
reluctance of the courtier or the man of mode, in the first 
place to print, and, in the second place, to print under his 
own name, his jeiix d' esprit. Frequent refuge is taken in 
such vague designations as " By a Person of Honour," 
in pseudonyms such as Diogenes, Celadon, Urania, Ory- 
thia, or in more revealing initials, as J. S. Esq., Sir T. D., 
Lady L — ce. The contributors number not only these 
timorous poetasters but also professional men of letters 
accustomed to publicity. Such are Mr. Nahum Tate, Mr. 
Thomas Brown, Mr. Prior, Mr. Purcell, Sir Charles Sed- 
ley, Mr. John Dennis, Mr. John Phillips, Mr. Congreve, 
Mr. Southerne, Mr. Charles Gildon, Mr. Leibnitz. Some 
verses are " said to be by Mrs. Behn." ^ But other worthy 
names, too, appear without shame, known to readers of 
to-day only through the pages of the Gentleman's Journal. 
Motteux stated in his opening address to his correspond- 
ent that he intended to be but the editor of others' verse 
and prose. In the February number, 1692, he says, 
" This is perhaps the onely Book of whose kind Eeception 
the Authour may boast without incurring the imputation 
of being vain, it being chiefly a Collection of other mens 
Works.'' But in the March number he reminds his well- 
wishers, " there is an absolute necessity of daily Supplies 
of Wit," and addresses an epistle To the INGENIOUS, 

•Oct., 1693. 

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I will only lay before you the necessity there is of a constant 
Supply of Ingenious Prose and Poetry, to carry on the Undertaking. 
And who can I ask it of, but of you? If you do not assist, what 
will Foreign Nations think of the Qallantry and Wit of the English, 
when a Design, like this, hath continued so long a time in France T 
.... For my part, I am willing to be a Collector to the Muses, 
a Clark, and an humble Servant to the Muses, as long as you their ^ 
Darlings will please to employ me, and the Bookseller will print. 
Nay, you shall have my Hme, Ink and Paper into the Bargain: 
And I think that's fair enough on Conscience, and that you had 
best strike up with me, for there are but few, I doubt, such dis- 
interested Writers in this Age. 

Despite his provocative appeal and the warm welcome 
given to his venture, Motteux did not find it easy to fill 
his Journal, The diflSculty of getting contributions is 
the burden of his introductory addresses to his correspond- ^ 
ent. He sums up the state of affairs in January, 1693: 
^^ Everyone wishes its [the JoumaVs] welfare, but few 
take care to promote it" To be sure, he limited the free- 
dom of contributors by stating that " such things as any 
ways reflect on particular Persons, or are either against 
Religion, or good manners, he cannot insert/' * When he 
had occasion to reject some proffered verses, he published 
the following Advertisement: 

Hie Ingenious are desired to continue to send what ever may be 
properly inserted in this Journal, either in Verse or Prose, directing 
it to the Publisher, or at the Latin Coffee-house, for the Author of 
the Gentleman^s Journal, not forgetting to discharge the Postage. 
An Ingenious Gentleman sent some Verses, which begin thus: 

Had you been known when those of ancient years, &c. 

And another sent one of Ovid's Epistles. If they please to let the 
Author know where to write to them, he will acquaint them with his 
Reasons for not inserting them.* 

Many a time the necessity of making up for lack of con- 
tributions had to be met by the editor. He writes in the ^ 

•Feb., 1«92. *May, 1692. 

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last (December) number of his first year's issue, " For 
tho' so many stronger hands have generously propt me up, 
yet the Burthen has still been too heavy for any single 
Capacity." At one time he proposes questions for dis- 
cussion, hoping to stimulate his readers to " ingenious " 
answers : 

1. Which is the most useful of all ArtsT 

2. Two Lovers being slighted, one of them leaves the Town where 
his Mistress lives, in hopes to be freed from his Passion, but finds 
no ease; The other cannot tear himself from what he loves, tho** he 
believes that Absence would prove his Remedy, lis asked, who of 
the Two loves most?* 

But he gets so few responses that he says ruefully, this 

will for the future make me take care not to raise a Spirit, without 
being sure I can lay it, without the help of others.* 

Two numbers he is forced to make up entirely by him- 
self, — those for September, 1692, and July, 1693. This 
he confesses in the former, adding, in regard to the usual 
composition of the Journal, " Hitherto I have treated you 
as much as I could at other Mens Cost," yet " ^Tis true 
that, to fill up, I have all along added something of mine 
own." Elsewhere he makes an appeal for more prose con- 
tributions.®* A look at the title pages shows how much 
must have come from Motteux's own pen, if we may as- 
sume the greater part of the unsigned articles are his. 

The effect of the Journal on its public was to produce 
a flood of letters of appreciation and suggestion to the 
editor. Motteux was overwhelmed at the thought of re- 
plying to them. 

For God's sake, let me be excused from answering of Letters, I 
have enough to do with mj Monthly one, and tho' I do by it, as those 
that have a mortal aversion to Physick, do by a bitter Purge, and 

•January, 1693. •March, 1693. ••Feb., 1693. 

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delay it as long as I can, that is, to the latter end of the Month; 
yet, at last, Nolens Volens, I put the Compulsory of Honour and 
Obligation upon my lazy Nature, and then, like some of you, I write, 
when by no means I can put it off longer/ 

But he is delayed now by indisposition, now by procras- 
tination, so that his publisher has to remonstrate. " My 
Bookseller .... tells me, that the uncertain times of 
publishing this Journal, by no means conduce to his ad- 
vantage,"® and he resolves to be more regular in the future. 
His inability, however, to live up to his program is mani- 
fest in 1694. He b^ins the year with a combined num- 
ber for January and February, and later telescopes August 
and September, as well as October and November, which 
is the last number of the Journal in the British Museum. 

It seems almost unnecessary to say that contributions 
undoubtedly were not paid for. One could hardly offer 
a guinea to " a Person of Honour " for occasional verses. 
And it is a question how profitable the undertaking was 
for Motteux himself. 

A representative title page is that for January, 1693, 
showing the kind of entertainment the Journal afforded. 

Introdwftion Page 1 

A DUcourae of the true Beginning of the Year 2 

On Time, by a Person of Quality 3 

On Eternity, hy a Person of Quality 4 

The Anatomy, hy N. Tate Esq; 6 

The Widow hy Chance, a Novel 7 

Verses hy Stephen Hervy Esq; 10 

To a Young Lady on her Birth-day, hy Mr. H. Denne ih, 
A Discourse on the Question, Whether Love is sooner lessened hy 

the Cruelty of a Mistress, than hy her Kindness t 11 - 

Yersea to Sylvia, hy Mr, J. Dennis 13 

A Pindaric Ode, on His Majesty 14 

» March, 1692. 'June, 1693. 

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Death of Monsieur Pelisson 18 

Admisaum of the Academiata of Nismes into the French Acudemy ib. 

Of the Want of auch Bocietiea in England 19 

To Corinna 20 

An Italian Madrigal, and the aame in English ih. 

To Celia, on New-Year'a Day ' ih. 

De ParnassOy by Mr. Thomas Brown 21 

On a Cock at Rochester, by Bir Charles Sedley ib. 

A Diacowrae on Ounpotoder 22 

A Latin Epigram on the laat ttoo Enigma* a, by a Peraon of Quality 23 

Solutiona of the aame by Mr. H. DoUer ib. 

An Enigma by Mr, 0. Salusbury, with Latin Notea on the aame 24 

Another by Osiris ib. 

One by Mr. Mitchell 25 
An Account of the Impartial Oritick by Mr, Dennis, and of hia 

Miacellaniea in Verae and Proae 26 
An Epigram on the Right Honourable the Earl of Dorset, by 

Mr. B— y— ib. 

Something concerning Burleaque ib. 

Newa of Learning 27 

Of New Playa 28 

Veraea by a Lady of Quality ib, 

A Bong aet by Mr. H. Purcell, the Worda by Mr. Congreve 29 

A Bong aet by the aame Mr. Purcell, the Worda by Mr. Southeme 31 

A Bong aet by Mr. Robert King, the worda by Mr, Salusbury 34 

It is to be noted that Motteux starts out with an intro- 
duction which is in form a letter but in subject-matter an 
^ editorial, and usually concerned with the reception of the 
Journal by the public, the difficulties of securing contri- 
butions and of getting the number together on time, or 
whatever comment Motteux may choose to make upon his 
enterprise. He follows this with a timely article as here, 
or with '' Stanza's by Mr. Prior," ® as an editor of to-day 
might give prominence to a short poem by Mr. Kipling, 
or he introduces some verse compliment to their Majes- 
ties, such as '' Verses by Sir C. Sedley, on Her Majesties 
Birth-day.*' ^^ Then, amidst numerous shorter prose and 

•Feb., 1692. ^•May, 1692. 

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verse selections, appear the following regular features: 
a short story or "novel"; an essay or discussion, here 
A Discourse on the Question, Whether Love is sooner les- 
sened by the Cruelty of a Mistress, than by her Kindness; 
a popular scientific article, as A Discourse on Gunpow- 
der; oftentimes a second "novel"; the enigmas for the 
month, with the solutions of those of the preceding num- 
ber ; News of Learning and Of Plays, i. e., announcements 
of recent publications, and literary and dramatic criticism ; 
finally, two or three songs with both words and music. 

But Motteux himself has given an account of the con- 
tents of his miscellany. In March, 1692, he tells us that 
his publisher insisted on the need of an insinuating epistle 
or preface to recommend " the Usefulness, the Benefit, the 
Good, the Profit" of his collection, offering as an aid to 
his eloquence The Compleat Secretary, The Pearl of Elo- 
quence, A Help to Discourse, and several other jogs to wit. 

Why! Sure the Book will do without all this Quack-like Cant, 
Bald I? Hath it not already been placed amongst the Stray 'd Mares, 
and LoBt Horses, at the End of the Ckusette^ that none within the 
Dominion of the Four Seas may pretend to cause of Ignorance? 
KoWy if they do not mind it, be it at their Peril, and let it stand 
at their doors: What the Devil would they have to please them? 
Here's Novels, and New-Town Adventures, for the Amorous and 
Gayer Sort of Readers; here's Verses for the Poetical ones; Here's 
Enigmas to puzzle half the Nation; Moral Stanzas and Odes, for 
the Grave Dons; Philosophy, for the Sons of Wisdom; News for the 
News-mongers, and Would-be-Politicians; and the Lord knows 
what not, besides 3 or 4 Songs, with the Parts, by the greatest 
Masters, worth each of them more than the price of the Book, and 
every individual tittle spick and span new, with a likelihood to 
have all Horace's Odes new done; for there is no less than three by 
different hands in this, one Moral, the other Amorous, and the third 
Jocose. So that if ever by some Fatality or other, ^e should lose 
the Old Translations, these may help to set up a New English 

^The London Oaaetie, 

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This passage is indicative of the gallant and sprightly 
way Motteux discharged his editorial duties. Through- 
out, his gay, sympathetic, persuasive introductions to each 
selection must have helped to stimulate the reader's ap- 
preciation. Keeping up the fiction that each number is 
a letter to a well-known correspondent, he assumes an in- 
formal tone that is wholly delightful. For example, 
" Whilst things like the following Stanza's made by Mr. 
Prior shall be given or sent me, you may believe I shall 
be prouder of making them publick than my own." ^^ 

He early recognizes the difficulties he has to overcome 
in adhering to the letter form, and exclaims : " It is 
impossible to keep any Order in a Letter, such as mine is. 
I am oblig'd from serious matters to fall to some of a quite 
different nature." ^* Because he desires to link piece to 
piece, and so produce a kind of unity, he becomes in time 
a master of easy editorial transitions. Thus he passes on 
from some verses ending^ 

At once, by the divine enchanting Fair, 

I'm burnt with Love, and frozen with Despair: 

After all, the heat of Love is much like that of this season [August], 
it rages for a while and the prevailing beams of the object set us, 
as it were, on fire; but when it leaves us, and its feeble Rays are 
duird by time and distance, we return to our native coldness. Lei 
us leave then the Heat of Love for a while, to discourse of that of 
the weather." 

Then follows an essay. Of the Dog-Days. 

But Motteux is best satisfied when he can group a num- 
ber of selections on one theme. In the April, 1693 number 
we are led from a drinking song, suggesting a little grate- 
ful wetting of the inner man, to an Englishing of the 20th 
Ode of Anacreon, in which the lover wishes he might turn 
to a bath, 

"Feb., 1692. "April, 1692. "August, 1692. 

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that 80 I might 
(Not try to wash my Dear more white) 
But someway add to her Delight. 

Anacreon deair'd to be Changed into Water, Mr. J. 0. who made the 
following Verses, wishes to be chang'd into a Golden Shower, and 
envies the Happiness of the Bath, that embraced with Freedom his 
insensible Charmer. 

Then follows, To the Bath and Zelinda in it! 

He comments : " Oh ! how many unhappy Mortals have 
found that the sight of a Charming Nymph in a Bath has 
been more pernicious to their ease than all the waters in 
the World could be useful to their Health. Methinks I 
hear one of these loving Wretches break out into such a 
Complaint" Here is inserted a lover's rhyming appeal 
to some hot springs to temper the coldness of his mistress; 
after which Motteux remarks, " It may not be amiss after 
these Verses to give you something concerning Baths, prin- 
cipally at this time of the Tear when they are both pleas- 
ant and necessary." An essay Of Baths follows. 

Elsewhere ^* he produces a similar sequence on teeth, 
and in another place ^* passes from "something very 
pleasant about handsome Legs," to Of Dancing. 

These selections would seem to indicate that most of the 
verse of the Oenfleman's Journal is of a trifling nature. 
Much of it is, short effusions by those unpractised in more 
sustained writing, seldom of more than magazine quality. 
But taken all together the verse of the Jovmal is quite 
representative of the taste of the times, which was largely 
formed by the prevailing reverraice for the classics and 
their French imitations. Anacreon, Virgil, Martial, and 
above all Horace, were translated or taken as models. 
Verses in the vein of the Greek Anthology abound, as To 

»Oct.-Nov., IfJW. "July, 1692. 


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Phillis by Mr. J. P.,^^ Celia's Power: by a Person of 
Bonour,^^ To Amintas, by the Earl of E.,^® Verses to 
Clorinda,^^ and short poems on such occasional snj^jects 
as To a Young Lady upon her going out of Town, by Mr. 
S.,21 The Parrot, an Elegy.^^ On Love by Mr. J. G.^* 
indicates the chief theme of the verse makers. 

Odes are frequent, pindaric or other, the pindaric 
ode with its "pleasing irregularity" being as much in 
fashion then as the sonnet sequence had been a century 
earlier. In view of Dryden's more famous poem, the 
pindaric Ode on St. Cecilia's Day 1692 is of interest, and 
is by no means an unworthy example of the class. Here 

is a stanza : 

With that sublime Celestial Lay 
Dare any Earthly Sounds compare? 
If any Earthly Music dare, 
The noble ORGAN may. 
From Heav'n its wondrous Notes were giv'n, 
(Cecilia oft conversed with Heaven) 
Some Angel of the Sacred Choire 
Did with his Breath the Pipes inspire; 
And of their Notes above the just Resemblance gave, 
Brisk without Lightness, without Dulness grave.** 

But a mere stanza never does justice to a pindaric ode. 

We should expect to find in the age of the Hind and the 
Panther fables in verse. Such is the Linnet and the Mag- 
pyej^^ which gives rise to the following comment by Mot- 

Fables have been ever valued by the Ingenious. In France Mon- 
sieur de la Fontaine, esteem'd inimitable in his way, hath revived 
them as much as that great Master of our Tongue, Sir Roger 

"July, 1694. "June, 1693. « March, 1693. 

"Aug.-Sept., 1694. «Oct.-Nov., 1694. •*Nov., 1692. 

^•Oct.-Nov., 1694. "July, 1694. * Jan., 1692. 

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L'Estrangey hath done lately among us; the Prose of the last, and 
the Verse of the first being equally beautiful in their kind. We 
had been waiting for Sir Roger's JBsop with all the impatience 
imaginable, at last it hath seen the Light, and England may boast 
now of the best Collection of Fables in the World. 

The verse-essay, notable in the hands of Dryden then 
and Pope later, is represented by An Epistolary Essay 
to Mr. Dryden upon his Cleomenes,^^ which ends in prose. 

Long you presided o're a knowing Age: 

By the Town courted. Courted by the Stage. 

What e*re you wrote, your Stamp Authentic made: 

Wit then was something more than a meer Trade; 

But the corrupted humor of the Age 

Has broke through all the Fences of our Stage. 

Yet you in pity to that Stage appear. 

And give a fresh Example ev*ry year. 

Were your Rules foUow'd, we no more should see 

Danm'd Farce usurp the place of Comedy, 

Nor thoughtless Words with a disjointed Tale, 

Above an artful Plot and lofty Sense prevail. 

Some few (and Taith they are but few) of Wit 

At some Dull-whining Play unmov'd could sit, 

See in the Boxes Tears in ev'ry Eye; 

They saw Good Nature, and they wondered why. 

But if some well-told Tragedy appear. 

They may look round, and not behold one Tear. 

Yet Oleomenes high Applause did find. 

And your great Merit made 'em justly kind. 

The dialogue, also popular at this time, takes verse form 
in several instances, one being Strephon and Sylvia, A 
Dialogue,^'^ and prose form in A Dialogue between Desire 
and Pleasure.^^ And the character, so popular as a genre 
by itself all through the century, appears in A Character 
of a Fop in Verse, sent from Dublin.^® Another literary 
fashion of the age is represented by a verse prologue by 

••May, 1692. "^August, 1692. »Oct.-Nov., 1694. 

*Aug.-Sept., 1694. 

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Sir Charles Sedley to a comedy, The Wary Widow, Or Sir 
Noisy Parrot.^^ The comedy of course is not given. 

Some Latin verse is included, usually Englished at once 
by the same or another hand. To volume in (1694) Mr. 
Power contributed a series of striking passages from 
Paradise Lost turned into Latin. In the January, 1693 
number I find An Italian Madrigal, and the same in 

The enigmas seem to have given imf ailing delight. One 
or two enigmas appear in each number, trivial verse, but 
widely welcomed as wit sharpeners. In an essay Of 
Enigma's Motteux writes, 

Since there have been learned Princes, Poets and Philosophers, 
Enigma's have been in request, there being nothing more natural to 
man, than to offer and solve difficult Questions, affecting by that 
some recommendation of wit above the rest.*^ 

The following is an enigma on a "News-letter, or a 
Gazette " ; 

Rome, and Qeneva I have join'd 

My mighty voice the World alarms, 
By fam'd events new life I find. 

And make the Warrior run to Arms. 

War, in my pow*r, and Peace I hold, 
And Joy and Grief at once have brought; 

Am scorn'd, like Virgins, when I'm old. 
And, when I'm young, am, like 'em, sought. 

My Father, Nature's eldest Son, 

Conquers the wise, the bold, the strong. 

My Mother swift as Air can run. 
And is all over Ear and Tongue. 

Whole Nations by me know their Fate, 

In Magpy hue I fly about; 
And, as I love or as I hate, 

With a bold stroke an Army rout.*" 

••Feb., 1693. "^Sept., 1692. "Sept., 1692. 

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Readers sent in their solutions, sometimes in verse, and 
had the satisfaction of seeing the names and often rhym- 
ing guesses of successful solvers appear in print in the 
next number. Thus, in the first number for 1694 : " The 
Enigma's in my last are Air and Tyranny, the first solv'd 
by Mr. George Herle, T. B., Eugenia, Mary D., both by 
Mrs. H. Turner, Sylvia, N. E., J. Smith, and by a Lady 
of Quality. . . . The second was solv'd by Mrs. Sarah 
Barker, J. T., W. Blewet, and by Mr. De La Sale, Urania, 
and Philomotteux." 

Two or three songs with accompanying music are the 
last feature of every number. They are usually amorous, 
and in the admired " gallant " manner of the time, of the 
type familiar to those acquainted with collections of Pur- 
celFs Airs. That fashionable composer frequently appears 
in the last pages of numbers of the Gentleman s Journal. 
Others who provided music for some of the songs are Dr. 
Blow, Mr. Frank, Mr. King, Mr. Akeroyde, and an Italian 
songmaster, Signer Baptist. Representative is the follow- 
ing set to Purcell's music : 

Since from my dear, my dear, my dear 
Since from my dear, my dear, my dear 

My dear A stre a's Sight 

I was 80 rude ly torn. 

My Soul has never, never, never, 

has never, never, never known De . . . light 
Un . . . less it were to mourn, to mourn, 
Un . . Jess, un . . . less it were to mourn; 
But oh! a . . . las, a ... las with weep . . . ing Eyes, 

and bleeding, bleeding Heart I lye; 
Thinking on her, on her whose Ab . . . sence 'tis 
That makes me wish to dye, dye, dye, dye. 
Makes me, makes me, wish to dye, dye, dye." 

There are a few songs of another nature, written by the 
versatile Motteux himself, reflecting the amours of a lower 

*= Dec., 1698. 

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level of society. Such is Jenny and Jockey, a Scotch Song, 
set to music by Mr. Ackeroyde. 

Joo, Fair . . est Jenny, thou mun love me, 

Jen. Trorh my Bonny Lad I do, 

Joe, Gin thou saist thou dost ap . . prove me, 

Dearest thou mun kiss me too. 
Jen, Taak a kiss or two gud Jockey 

But I dare give nene I trow, 

Fie nay Pish be not im . luc . ky; 

Wed me first and aw will doe.** 

Much of this love poetry aims to voice a higher, a more 
glorified, or a more fiery passion than had been simg in 
earlier days by Wither, Suckling, and Lovelace. The fair 
is a " Seraphic Creature," a " Sweet Angel," a " Heavenly 
Bliss," a " dear Charmer," who puts her lover ^' to a thou- 
sand pains." The raptures of passionate love are often 
very frankly described. It is clear that the writers aimed 
to be elegant, but to produce thrills at the same time by 
treading on dangerous ground. 

Many of the characteristics of eighteenth-century poetry 
are already present in this minor verse of the late seven- 
teenth century, because, in both cases, of the prevailing 
pesudo-classical influence. Comparisons to Daphne, Apol- 
lo, Jove, Venus are frequent. William III is " Britain's 
Csesar," England is '^ Britannia," and France " Gallia " ; 
young women are nymphs but not yet sylphs ; plague, fam- 
ine, glory, fame, spring, summer, are personified, war is 
spoken of as " Bellona," the sun as " Phoebus returning." 
The Muses and the Graces are summoned to celebrate Her 
Majesty's birthday. The tendency is to attach a descrip- 
tive adjective to most nouns and a descriptive adverb to 
many verbs, as in these lines : 

••Jan., 1692. 

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In yain the Am'rous Flute and soft Guitar 

Jointly labour to inspire 
Wanton Heat and loose Desire; 
Whilst thy Chaste Airs do gently move 
Seraphic Flame and Heavily Love." 

Descriptions of war and naval engagements, however, are 
more vigorous and direct than when it was thought poeti- 
cal meanness to call things by their proper names. But 
the tendency is to exalt realities by the aid of rhetorical 

But all the poetry, as the colloquialism of Jenny and 
Jockey bears witness, is not of this caste. It would be 
strange if the seventeenth-century delight in burlesque 
should not be represented. This is the vein chosen for 
a retelling of the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. 

Orpheus a One-ey'd limping Thracian, 
Top-Crowder of the barbarous Nation, 
Was Ballad-Singer by Vocation, 
Who up and down the Country Strowling, 
And with his Strains the Mob Cajoling, 
Charm'd them as much as each Man knows 
Our Modern Farces do our Beaux. 

He had a Spouse yclep'd Euridice 

As tight a Lass as ere our-eye-did-see. — •• 

This last rhyme is worthy of Hvdihras, or the later In- 
goldsby Legends, A similar treatment is given to the 
myth of Actaeon and Diana. Love is by no means ethe- 
realized in a vigorous and callous verse narrative of the 
outcome of the relations between two gallants and a com- 
mon mistress, The Two Friends,^^^ written confessedly in 
imitation of La Fontaine. 

The inclusion of this last, and of prose pieces on simi- 
lar subjects, would seem to be violation of an early promise 

"Nov., 1692. "June, 1692. •*» June, 1692. 

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of Motteux's. In his first number he declares that he de- 
signs his Monthly for ladies as well as gentlemen. 

The fair Sex need never fear to be exposed to the blush, when 
they honour this with a reading; 'tis partly writ for them, and I am 
too much their Votary to be guilty of such a crime. There were 
but few pretenders to Wit and Gallantry in France amongst the 
Ladies, but made the Meroure Ckillant their darling, and tho I 
do not pretend to copy after him in all things, yet this is no less 
the Ladies Jowmal than the Gentleman's. 

Ladies are constant contributors, and solvers of enig- 
mas. One of them,^*^ taking exception to aspersions cast 
on marriage, not by Motteux, wrote a letter to the editor 
asserting her own happy married life, and signing herself 
" Placidia." When the October number for 1693 appear- 
ed, it bore the heading. The Lady's Journal, or the Monthr 
ly Miscellany. Motteux begins: 


Since this Month's Collection chiefly consists of Pieces written 
by Persons of the Fair Sex, I may justly call it the Lady's Jour- 
nal. I intended to have own'd in an Epistle Dedicatory to them, 
my sense of their generous encouragement in my Undertaking, and 
you will find here something of that nature. 

This Lady's Journal compares favorably with the num- 
bers imder the usual title. Motteux contributes most of 
the prose, and the ladies almost all the verse, which is per- 
haps a shade more trifling than usual. Among others, " a 
young Lady of Quality " contributes An Epitaph on her 
Majesties Dog, Mrs. S — , An Essay on Modesty from the 
French of Mad. de Scudery, " Orithya," some Verses, " a 
Lady " lines To a Weeping Lover, and again " a Lady " 
has composed the words for A Song set by Mr. J. 

The prose of the Journal, equally with the verse, is rep- 
resentative of what was enjoyed in the 1690's. 

»*Nov., 1693. 

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The essay, established as a genre in English literature 
by Bacon in 1597, had achieved distinction and become 
popular after the Restoration with the appearance of Cow- 
ley's graceful yet thoughtful Essays, and Dryden's bril- 
liant adaptation of the form to literary criticism. Each 
number of the Journal contained one or more essays 
on such subjects as are indicated by the following titles: 
Of Time,^^ Of Fasting,^"" On Envy,*'' The EqmlUy of 
both Sexes asserted,*^ Of a Lottery of Maids and Batche- 
lorsj,*^ Conjectures on the Origin of the word Blazon, hy 
Mr. Leibniz,*' On Descartes's Philosophy.** A Dis- 
course concerning the Ancients and the Modems*^ takes 
up the much discussed question of the superiority of the 
present to the past, or vice versa, that gave rise to Sir Wil- 
liam Temple's Essay upon the Ancient and Modern Learn- 
ing and to Swift's Battle of the Boohs. The latter immedi- 
ately comes to mind on reading Of Modern Names made 
Latin.*^ Here in a dream the author finds himself in the 
Commonwealth of Learning, where he hears a dispute that 
develops into the Ancients-versits-Modems controversy. 
Some of the essays are in the form of arguments, as. That 
Sighs are Marks of a greater Love than Tears,*'^ and 
Which hath most Charms, Glory or Love? *^ 

Several prose allegories appear, such as The Birth of 
Love and Friendship,*^ and A Description of the Kingdom 
of Poetry, which begins: 

The Kingdom of Poetry is large and well peopled, it borders on 
one side on that of Painting, and on the other on that of Music: 
It is divided into high and low, like several other Country s. . High 
Poetry is inhabited by a sort of grave sower-look'd melancholy 

"Nov., 1692. 

-April, 1694. 

-Aug., 1693. 

•Feb., 1603. 

-Dec., 1693. 

«Aug., 1693. 

-July, 1698. 

-March, 1693. 

- April, 1693. 

« May, 1692. 

-Feb., 1692. 

-Dec., 1693. 

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people, who speak a language which is to the other Provinces as 
Welsh to the English. The tops of all the Trees in High Poetry 
shoot into the Clouds: Their Horses out-run the Wind; The men 
are generally Heroes by profession, and will cleave you a Gyant 
arm'd* Capapie, to the very Rump with a back stroke. As for the 
women, if they have never so little beauty, there is no comparison 
between them and the Sim. The Metropolis of this Province is 
caird Epic Poem, 'tis built on a sandy and ungrateful soyl, which 

hardly any take pains to Cultivate You can never come 

out of Epic Poem, without meeting Fights and Murthers: but 
when you pass through Romance, which is its Suburb, and bigger 
than that Town, you are sure to meet at the end on't people full 
of joy, and preparing for their Marriage, they are there very pas- 
sionate Lovers, great Travellers, and tellers of Stories, and the most 
beautiful and accomplished people in the World. . . Pindaric Ode is 
a town seated on a very high ground, it yields a very beautiful 
prospect, and irregularity in others a fault adds to its perfection."* 

Strangely modem seem the scientific articles. A wave 
of desire for an extension of knowledge in the direction 
Bacon had pointed out followed the Eestoration. In 
1662 the Royal Society had been chartered. Bishop 
Sprat's History of the Royal Society helped to make known 
its aims and win synipathy for them. Philosophical 
Transactions and Philosophical Collections had put forth 
in periodical form accounts of investigations at home and 
abroad. By 1692 what had been the concern of a few had 
become of general interest, and all who pretended to in- 
tellectual alertness were eager to add to their scientific 
information. Querists sent in scientific posers to be an- 
swered by the omniscient editors of the Athenian Mercury. 
Motteux, like editors of to-day, was meeting a genuinely 
popular demand when he inserted An Account of the Na- 
ture of Driness and Moistness,^^ A New System of the 
Gravitation of Bodies,^^ Observation on the Figure of 
Snow,^^ Of the Situation of the Bile cmd Pancreatic 

"Jan., 1692. ~ Jan., 1692. "Feb., 1693. 
"March, 1694. 

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Juice '^^ (contributed as a letter to Sir Theodore de Vaux), 
An Account of a late flying Scorpion/^^ Of Diving by the 
" learned Dr. B./' ^^ and a letter sent in by Mr. Kichard 
Sault containing some mathematical propositions he had 
received from " a very ingenious Gentleman out of the 
Country." ^^ These were only occasionally v^ritten up by 
Motteux himself, v^ho cotdd at necessity draw upon the 
English or foreign scientific periodicals for such infor- 

News of current events, promised in the original de- 
scriptive title of the Journal, is to be found in the first 
two numbers, but afterwards disappears save for a rare 
and merely occasional comment, such as this in the number 
for June, 1692: 

The Consternation that the French are in, since they find that 
their Loss is so considerable, and the Falsity of the Account that was 
given of it at first, is very great. They are forc'd to quiet the 
Spirits of the People, in giving them fabulous Accounts of their 
Strength. [Then after he has been specific as to their exaggerations] 

I leave you to judge how false all this is, and how weak 

they must find themselves, since they have recourse to such notorious 
Falsities, to quiet the minds of the People. 

In two early numbers a department of mock-news ap- 
pears, called the Lovers Gazette. 

From the City of Beauty, the 18th of the Month of Courtship. The 
States began their Sessions the 3d of this Instant. Sir Coquetting 
Beau, High-Commissioner, made them a Speech full of soft Verses, 
fiorid Words, and moving Expressions. The Lord of Charms, their 
President, returned him an Answer much to his satisfaction; and it 
was agreed, that the City should furnish two Millions of Ogles for 
the War against Rebellious Hearts, and raise a Regiment of Allure- 
ments for the Service of Love." 

But mock-news was out of fashion. Probably a recogni- 
tion of its dullness led to its discontinuance. 

"April, 1694. "July, 1692. "March, 1692. 
"March, 1694. "Sept., 1693. 

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Far more interesting are the literary announcements 
and book reviews, news of learning that includes Contin- 
ental as well as English items, and conmient on the con- 
temporary drama. Here are appreciative notices of books 
that all the world has now agreed to honor. Motteux as a 
critic is one of the gentlest. Indeed, he seldom ventures 
an adverse opinion of his own, but merely records an un- 
favorable reception of a work. His forte lies in warm rec- 
ommendation of, and generous enthusiasm for, the achieve- 
ments of others. Thus : 

We hope that Mr. Dryden will undertake to give us a Translation 
of Virgil; 'tis indeed a most difficult work, but if any one can assure 
himself of sucecss, in attempting so bold a task, 'tis doubtless the 
Virgil of our Age, for whose noble Pen that best of Latin Poets seems 

Milton's Pa/radiae Lost is Reprinting with large Notes, to explain 
the less obvious and common Words, Phrases, and Passages of that 
most heavenly Poem.** 

The second Volume of the Athenae Oxoniensea by that great Anti- 
quary Mr. Wood of Oxford will appear very speedily.** 

There is also a Book call'd Nouvelles Conversations de Morale, said 
to be by the Famous Mademoiselle de Scudery, which hath lately seen 
the light.** 

Mr. Perrault, of the French Academy, hath very lately published 
the Third Part of his Parallele des Andens d des Modemes, relating 
only to Poetry.** 

We have now the second Edition of Mr. Lock's Essay concerning 
the human Understanding; carefully revised with the addition of a 
whole Chapter of Identity, large Indices, and marginal Summaries, 
and some Alterations in the Chapter of Power, which the Author 
thought necessary. The first Edition of that great Work was uni- 
versally esteemed by all Persons of eminent Learning; yet several 
tho' highly sensible of his merit, have opposed him in some things; 
and particularly in that part of his Book, in which he would prove 
there are no innate Ideas or Principles in the Soul of Man, who is 
said to acquire them as he grows up, either by the Sences or his 

•March, 1694. '^May, 1692. **Dec., 1692. 

•March, 1692. •"Aug., 1692. 

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Reflections on his own Operations. I am told that a French Physi- 
cian has wrote a Book, now printing in Holland, in which he contra- 
dicts Mr. Lock in this point; a little time will show us how he has 
done it; if his Book is written with as much Judgment, Wit and 
Exactness as his learned Adversary's, it will doubtless be very wel- 
come to the World.** 

Rapin's Reflections on Aristotle's Treatise of Poesy, Englished by 
Mr. Rymer with his admirable Preface, is reprinted being very scarce 

The Opera of which I have spoke to you in my former, hath at last 
appear'd and continues to be represented daily; it is calPd, The 
Fairy Queen. The Drama is originally Shakespears, the Music and 
Decorations are extraordinary. I have heard the Dances commended, 
and without doubt the whole is very entertaining.** 

I need not say any thing of Mr. Congreve's Double-Dealer (the only 
new Play since my last) after the Character which Mr. Dryden has 
given of it.*' 

Mr. Dryden has compleated a new Tragedy, intended shortly for 
the Stage, wherein he has done a great unfortunate Spartan no less 
justice than Roman Anthony met with in his All for Love, You who 
give Plutarch a daily reading can never forget with what magnani- 
mity (under all his tedious misfortunes) Cleomenes behaved him- 
self in the Egyptian Court. This Hero, and the last scene of his Life, 
has our best Tragic Poet chose for his fruitful Subject.** 

The kind reception of Mr. Southeme's The Fatal Mar- 
riage: or. The Innocent Advltery is commented on, and 
the non-success of Mr. Settle's tragedy, The Ambitious 
Slave: or. The Generous Revenge.^^ 

The " novel " or " adventure " easily makes the chief ap- 
peal to a modem reader. It is the seventeenth-century form ^ 
of the short story. Over thirty-one appear in the Gentle- 
man's Journal, all more or less alike. Only one owes any 
inspiration to the heroic romances, the Grand Cyruses or 
Clelies of the day. None are glorifications of primitive 
man as is Mrs. Behn's Oroonoko. With but one exception " 
they portray contemporary types, contemporary manners. 

••May, 1694. ••May, 1692. "Feb., 1692. 

•Dec., 1698. •^Nov., 1693. ••March, 1694. 

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For the most part they are localized in London or its 
environs. Thus, in The Generous Mistress,''^ Richly and 
Courtlove agree to meet at a tavern in the Strand, and 
refer to The Buffalo's Head and Pawlet's in the Hay- 
market as coffee-houses of familiar rendez-vous. Sophia, 
in Love's Alchemy,''^ on a visit to London sends her maid 
to see the tombs at Westminster. In The Friendly Cheat,''^ 
the story is laid " not far from old Verulam." The char- 
acters of The Cure of Jealousy ^' live in the city of 
Augusta, and take a trip to the Wells, stopping at the 
Queen's Arms on the way. But The Picture : Or, Jealousy 
Without a Cause ^* is about events supposed to occur 
"in a considerable Town in the Netherlands," and the 
heroes of The Lover's Legacy '^^ and Hypocrisy Out-done: 
Or, The Imperfect Widow '^^ cross to Flanders. A few 
are not localized at all. In The Noble Statuary '''^ events 
are said to have taken place " somewhere in Albion," while 
the civilization is not of the present but of a chivalric past. 

The heroes and heroines are almost uniformly from the 
upper middle class, although The False Friend: Or, The 
Fatherless Couple '^^ and The Quakers Gambols ^® have to 
do with a lower social stratum. 

These " novels " are in the main composed of the same 
stuff that was drawn upon for the plot of a contemporary 
comedy. They hinge upon a love situation, usually involv- 
ing intrigue. Some verses from the Journal sum up the 
philosophy of life reflected in these stories : 

The beauteous Sex were first for Love design'd, 
And Nature will prevail in all we find; 
Men will enjoy if Women will be kind.^* 

'•Sept., 1693. "Dec., 1692. "May, 1692. 

"March, 1692. "March, 1693. "Nov., 1693. 

" Feb., 1692. '• June, 1693. •• Oct.-Nov., 1694. 

"April, 1694. "Jan., 1692. 

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When Motteux departs from this theme of perennial in- 
terest in The Living Ghost: Or, The Merry Funeral, 
which is an account of a practical joke, he comments at 
the end : '^ Your Friends of the fair Sex will scarce pardon 
me for relating an adventure wherein Love has no share. 
A Novel or a Play, without it seldom pleases them." ^^ 

The stories fall into two well defined groups. The first 
includes those, frequently coarse and unmoral^ where by 
dint of trickery and duping the sharpest carries the day. 
Here wives deceive suspicious or unsuspecting husbands, 
or husbands, wives, in true Decameronian fashion. Such 
are The Winter Quarters ^^ and The Cure of Jealousy. 
The former, by the " Ingenious Mr. Fransham," is notably 
conscienceless. The hero Captain Beau, "a Gentleman 
equally qualified for Love and War," is in love with the 
wife of Mr. Friendly, with whom he makes friends. Mr. 
Friendly offers him rooms in his house, which Captain 
Beau agrees to take, and to which he brings Mrs. Beau, his 
wife (no other than his valet in disguise). Captain Beau 
soon gains the love of Mrs. Friendly, who denies him 
nothing. But the valet has also fallen in love with her and 
meets with equal success, though without his master's 
knowledge. In the spring the captain is ordered else- 
where. Up to the last he hoodwinks Mr. Friendly, and 
obtains favors from his wife. When they are exchanging 
farewells, the valet, still masking as Mrs. Beau, says wag- 
gishly to Mr. Friendly, ^' I must confess, that upon the 
retiring of your Lady and Mr. Beau, I was a little ting'd 
with Jealousy, well knowing the power of her Charms, 
upon which I was very uneasy ; but I have been perform- 
ing the part of a ghostly Father, and have brought her to a 
serious Confession, which has given me a great deal of sat- 

" Jaii.-Feb., IdM. - Oct.-Nov., 1694. 

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isfaction, since she averr'd with all imaginable sincerity, 
that the Captain never went further towards the Homing 
of Mr. Friendly than myself." The author comments, 
" This report, without doubt, added much to the present 
content of his (Mr. Friendly 's) mind, and made the part- 
ing very satisfactory on all hands.'' 

In The Friendly Cheat ^^ two knights of lustful and 
wanton courses fall in love with each others' wives, but, by 
a friend to whom they confide all, they are brought to the 
arms of their own wives whom they take for their mis- 
tresses; thus the deceivers are again deceived. In The 
Adventures of the Nightcap,^^ a husband whose suspicions 
are aroused by a prying neighbor, discovers that the wearer 
of his own nightcap is none other than his wife's sister, 
just come up to town from the country. " The young Sis- 
ter was of a wild, pleasant humor, and the Husband's 
Night-Cap lying on the Toilet, she jocularly had clapped 
it on her head, saying to her sister, That she would be her 
Husband that day." Eevelations follow as to the prying 
neighbor's own reputation. The Widow hy Chance ^^ re- 
volves about the winning of a wager. At the end it is im- 
possible to say from the sudden turn of affairs who has won 
the stakes. The influence of Italian novelle or their 
French imitations on this group is obvious. 

The second group comprises the " novels " of a romantic 
character, where interest centers in the course of a true love 
that may be far from smooth, but that reaches a conclusion 
satisfying to the reader's sense of poetic justice. Except 
for the contemporary setting, these are not unlike romantic 
noveUe, but occasionally a new note is introduced. At 
least one. The Treacherous Guardian, is an approach to 
the Richardsonian type of sentimental novel, while one or 
two others have markedly sentimental moments. 

•Feb., 1692. •• April, 1692. "Jan., 1693. 

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Yet The Treacherous Otuirdia/n^^ is, after all, only 
slightly suggestive of Richardson. The events related, and 
the emphasis on the heroine's chastity, may be considered 
Richardsonian, but the art of Richardson, the minute an- 
alysis of the heroine's states of mind in her hours of trial, 
and the outpouring of her soul in copious correspondence, 
are all absent Constantia from her childhood has been 
looked upon by her father Kindman as the prospective' 
bride of Heartly, whom she loves. When she is of mar- 
riageable age her father dies, leaving her to the care of a 
guardian, Viperly. Heartly has a false friend, Richmore, 
who takes base advantage of his introduction to Constantia 
and conspires with Viperly to force her to receive him as 
her husband. Viperly gives Richmore every opportimity to 
violate Constantia's honor, concealing him in her bedroom. 
She saves herself by seemingly consenting to the marriage. 
She is forced to write her change of mind to Heartly, but 
interlines the note with invisible ink, describing her plight. 
Heartly comes at once to rescue her and so prevails with 
Richmore that the latter comes to a sense of honor and re- 
linquishes Constantia. Viperly, actuated by greed in the 
first place, is forced to hand over to the lovers their estates, 
up to this time in his keeping. 

Love Sacrificed to Honor ®^ reveals a mingling of various 
contemporary influences. Trueman discovers on his re- 
turn from a long absence that his friend Sparkly has been 
trifling with his own lady, Theodosia, so that her reputa- 
tion has suffered. Meeting with Sparkly, he takes him to 
a field and draws upon him. Sparkly's sword breaks, 
whereupon he suddenly sees the evil of his ways and cries 
out, " Pursue the advantage Heaven has giv'n you in the 
defence of the Innocent and take my hated Life ! " True- 

• April, 1698. "Oct., 1692. 


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man refuses to do this on the ground " That Heaven who 
gave it him should take it," whereat Sparkly by way of 
reparation offers to marry Theodosia! Poor Trueman's 
nice sense of honor forces him to agree to this arrangement. 
The story ends : " But Trueman thought it not convenient, 
at least, not very satisfactory, to be present at that Sol- 
emnity, since he thus sacrificed his Love to his Mistresses 
Honour." Sentimental is the characterization of the 
wronged and virtuous Trueman, who refuses to take re- 
venge when it is in his power, and sentimental the sudden 
change of heart of Sparkly. Events lead up to a dilemma, 
in novella fashion, but to such a dilemma as is of con- 
stant recurrence in heroic romance and heroic drama, 
where the hero is called upon to choose between love and 
honor, with the inevitable recognition of the superior 
claims of honor. The whole closes with a humorous touch 
characteristic of Motteux. 

The stories differ as to the naming or no-naming of the 
characters. In several the characters have no names. 
When they are named, the names indicate their prevailing 
humor. Heroines such as Arabella ®® and Sophia,®® and a 
hero. Franc. Jessamin,®** are exceptions. 

Little emphasis is laid on characterization as such, the 
name being evidently regarded as a sufficient index. For- 
mal characterization such as we find at the beginning of 
The Adventure of the Night-Cap ®^ is unusuaL Here the 
two chief personages are described and contrasted, one of 
them in as formal a manner as Earle might have painted 
another She Precise Hypocrite for his collection of Char- 
acters. The heroine is a beautiful young woman married 
to a gentleman of estate. Her wit is greater than her 

"June, 1693. "March, 1692. "May, 1692. 
"April, 1692. 

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beauty. " Her admirable good Humor, and free Conver- 
sation, made her not only the Esteem, but Love of all rhat 
knew her; and her Husband giving her all the Liberty 
imaginable, she seldom wanted Visitants; the Park, the 
Play, Musick-Meetings, Cards, Balls, were her daily En- 
joyments." She has hosts of admirers. 

However her facility of access and freedom, did not pass altogether 
nncensured. Many said, That the Ear is not so freely lent, without a 
design to win the Heart. And tedious Lectures were preached to 
her upon this Text, by a She-Fri^id, of a Character quite opposite 
to hers, who was a Woman of a grave and morose outside, handsom, 
tho' somewhat declining; and who regarding with an Eye of pity all 
those that draw on themselves the suspition of an intrigue, used to 
affect a cautious, or rather superstitious Regularity, able to damp 
the most presumptuous Addressers. There was no familiarity to be 
had with her. The least freedom in Conversation would strike her 
dumb. She was always as serious as a Hypocrite at Prayers, and , 
shunned all opportunities of appearing at publick places, unless it 
were a Church. In short, the name of Precisian seem'd to be esteemed 
by her beyond all other Enjoyments. She was not insensible to 
pleasure for aU this, and how reserved soever she desired to be 
thought, had her private hours, which she managed cimningly. But, 
by a Maxim which hath its Followers as well as others, she was 
persuaded that Scandal alone makes the Crime, and indeed the resem- 
blance of Vertue pleased her much better than Vertue it self. 

The use of dialogue varies in amount and naturalness. 
Sometimes Motteux merely reports conversation in the 
third person. Dialogue is apt to be more natural in the 
" novels " of the first group, and all too frequently stifF 
and melodramatic in the second. There is a general lim- 
bering up when Motteux or one of his infrequent coadju- 
tors becomes humorous. " Mr. E. S." in The Disappoint- 
ment,^^ his burlesque of a heroic romance, aims at repro- 
ducing the pert and lively conversation of a clever young 
lady who rails, fashionably, at what she secretly admires, 

"August, 1693. 

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and seeks to satisfy a lover by mere sophistry. ^' 'Twas in 
the Spring, when Eugenio, stolen from the noisy Town, 
had retired to the Sweets and Felicities of a Rural Soli- 
tude," where he, aged forty, falls in love with the lady 
Albisinda, " one of the fairest works of the Creation," and 
just seventeen. " The' generous Albisinda's descending 
goodness " has this effect on Eugenio that " he was rapt up 
into no lowest Heaven. In short, to Groves, to Grots, to 
Shades and Bowers, to purling Streams and murmuring 
Fountains, who handed the fair Albisinda but the blest 
Eugenio ? " A Sebastian breaks into their paradise of Pla- 
tonic devotion. At the news Albisinda breaks out with, 
" Good Heaven, what Stars am I bom under, that I must 
be forced to leave such Wit as Eugenie's, such truly de- 
lightful Oonversation, to give Audience to the Imperti- 
nence of Sebastian. . . . and what's worst of all, . . . 
he comes to tire me with Love too, bold, sawcy, impudent 
Love. 'Tis true he is of some Birth and Quality, and so 
are half the Fops of London. And then he is young and 
handsome ; so is my Lap-dog. And withal he has a great 
many Acres, Dirt like himself. But what's all this to the 
Charms of a Man of Wit," and she begs Eugenio's help in 
the approaching torment. Eugenio, who declares his love, 
is made happy by the maiden's favorable reception of it, 
and has small fear of a rival, when he suddenly hears that 
Albisinda and Sebastian are married. WTien he next sees 
Albisinda he is overcome. But she chides him, "What 
because I have married Sebastian, can that raise all this 
Cloud ? Wo more for shame Eugenio. Yes, I have mar- 
ried him ; the poor young Fool, a thing good enough for a 
Bedfellow, the Master of my idle sleeping hours; and 
much good may do him. No, my Eugenio, thy Right, thy 
sacred Right is uninvaded. I reserve thee for my darling 

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Situation, as can be seen from tlie preceding summaries, 
is the prime consideration in these ^^ novels." They are 
elaborated by characterization, description for the sake of 
background, narration of previous events, only as much as 
is necessary to lead up to the climactic situation. An end- 
ing is then promptly made. Many are little more than 
slightly expanded anecdotes. Very few have what can be 
called a plot, developed by a series of sustained situations. 
The two extremes are illustrated by The Relation of an 
uncommon tho very true Adventure *' and by Love's Al- 
chemy; Or, A Wife got ovi of the Fire.^^ The former is 
stripped well nigh as bare of characterizing detail as the 
telling will permit. A young don of one of the two uni- 
versities and a young lady with a natural inclination to 
learning become mutually attracted. She extols Platonic 
love and he falls in with her ideas. After three years she 
longs for something more substantial and begs him to give 
up his college fellowship and marry her, as she has enough 
for both. He is confounded, and leaves without a reply. 
He soon sends his answer to her in verse, declaring his 
unwillingness to change their relation of Platonic lovers. 
She dies in six weeks of grief. He, broken-hearted, dies a 
month after her. " This account," says Motteux, " I have 
from the very person who carried the Letter, who is a 
Reverend Divine." The original is scarcely more ex- 
panded than the above summary. 

Love's Alchemy is one of the most entertaining stories. 
The %ure of Dulman suggests at once the immortal Tony 
Lumpkin of She Stoops to Conquer. Sophia, a Canter- 
bury belle, is designed by old Greedy, her father, for Dul- 
man, her first cousin and her antipathy. " The unbred 
Thing was as lewd as his Capacity would permit him, and 

•April, 1692. ••March, 1692. 

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would at any time Club for a scurvy Debauch of Beer and 
Brandy ; for Wine he could not endure, unless at another 
Man's Cost. Gaming and Whoring were his other two 
greatest Accomplishments, and he scorned to flinch or start 
at All-Fours, or Putt; but would set you up whole Nights 
and Days most devoutly with some Rascally Pot-Compan- 
ion, or Drunken Tory-Rory, smoaking Strumpet. How- 
ever, this was the Monster to whom our Virgin was to be 
sacrificed ; and, in order to her better Accomplishments for 
so rare a Match, she was sent to an Aunt of her's here in 
Town, to learn to Sing, Dance, and so forth, as well as to 
see the Court, the Playhouse and Fashions. From thence, 
in five or six months, she was to return to her Father's 
house, and then be led to the place of Execution." In 
London she comes to know one Sightly who lodges in the 
same house with her aunt. " He could talk sensibly on 
any Subject, but Lrove, Chemistry, and Poetry, gave him 
the greatest Elocution." Of course they fall in love with 
one another. One evening he dines with Sophia and the 
aunt when Dulman has come to town, and he sees how 
cooUy Sophia treats her intended husband. " All Dinner 
time Dulman's Mind ran on the merriment he promised 
to himself with his Gang at the Hole in the Wall in Bald- 
wyns Gardens ; and as soon as the Table was cleared, told 
her, He was sorry that he was forced to leave her: But 
truly he must go to see how his Horses were served, for 
he would not trust any Servant in England to look after 
them; ending with the old Proverb, The Master's Eye 
makes the Horse fat. So, without more Compliment, he 
left her, to go to much worse Beasts than those he men- 
tioned. She could not forbear taking notice of his abrupt 
and imcivil departure before Sightly, tho she confessed 
Dulman's absence was what she most desired." Sightly at 

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once declare his passion for her " with an Address . . . 
so moving and effectual; that she had much ado to forbear a 
discovery of hers for him at the first Parley." The aunt, 
however, warns them that Sophia will lose her portion 
if she marries without her father's consent. Still they 
resolve to hazard alL But Sophia's woman betrays her 
to her father, who comes posting up to town just in time 
to break up the plans for immediate marriage. They see 
him from the house in the early morning, and suspect they 
have been betrayed. Sightly, with his wits about him, 
sends Sophia and her aunt out the front door, while he 
goes out at the back, promising to be in Kent before her, 
but not before they have had time to vow eternal con- 
stancy, " and so with a Kiss, a Si^, and a Tear, they bid 
Farewel." Sightly passes "through as many Avenues as 
an Alsatian that walks by day" to escape detection, and 
orders his man to go on to the Horn at Gravesend with 
the " baggage." " Mean while the Aunt and Neece were 
seized by Greedy, who asked them. Whither they were go- 
ing so early? To which his Sister returned. That they 
designed for the Park, to take the morning's fresh Air. 
Ay, ay, said the old Curmurgeon, I see you are both very 
airy, but I hope that Canterbury Air will better agree 
with my Daughter ; and so, said he, good, sweet, obedient 
Daughter, pray get you ready for a march home. But 
where is that generous Bridegroom of yours, that ad- 
venturous Knight, that dares venture on you without my 
leave, that is, without a farthing ? " So she is taken home. 
Greedy soon hears of a famous alchemist who has ar- 
rived in town, and goes to the Coffee-House to see him. 
He is much taken with him, and brings him to his house, 
where the alchemist apparently performs the experiment 
of turning copper into gold by a sly insertion of gold in 

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the crucible. This he buys of the alchemist, who returns 
the money with the gold, begging Greedy to distribute it 
among the poor. "Ay (said Greedy to himself) Nine shill- 
ings will do as well for them, 'tis more than I owe them, 
I'm sure, by the Parish-Book." Now Greedy has but 
one desire, to keep the alchemist by him, and so he offers 
him his daughter. Poor Sophia is dismayed at the smutty 
person thrust upon her. "Madam, (said our Vulcan) can 
you like me for a Husband ? Ah ! Sir, cryed she, If you 
have not more Humanity than my Father, I am lost for- 
ever, I cannot marry you. Then Madam, (returned he) 
you must marry your own first Cousin. I confess. Sir, 
(said she) were I at my own disposal, I should rather chuse 
you than him — But — I am not." When they are by 
themselves the alchemist shows her a ring, saying, "No 
more denials, Madam, read there your destiny: She took 
it and was startled by the Po'sie, when looking on him 
wishfully, she found he was her very numerical London 
Lover: My Sightly! (cry'd she) My Sophia! (he re- 
ply'd). It was not then the accidental blackness of his 
complexion that could frighten her from his arms. After 
they had taken a chearful bait on a few kisses, he led her 
on their Journey to happiness with this instruction, That 
on the return of her Father she should consent, on condi- 
tion that he gave the same Portion with her that he pro- 
posed to Dulman." The cbnsent of the old man is quick- 
ly won and the wedding comes off. After this event 
Sightly casts off his disguise. He further reveals his 
trickery about the gold to Greedy, who is discomfited on 
all sides. 

No real parallel can be drawn between the present-day 
magazine and the Oentlenum's Journal in the matter 
of an advertising section. Periodicals of the time differ 

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as to the presence of advertisements. Such a monthly 
as the Journal might be expected to contain booksellers' 
notices in the space left otherwise vacant at the end of a 
number, but none are inserted except at the close of the 
February, 1692 number, where three books are advertised. 

Illustrations appear in Le Mercure Oalant. These are 
of medals, of a triumphal arch, of a Cupid hovering over 
a landscape and under a ribbon on which is written a 
"posy;" he holds a fringed cloth marked like a sun-dial, 
with an arrow stuck through the cloth for the pointer; 
under it all are verses. Then there is a picture of Made- 
moiselle in court dress. But there are no illustrations in the 
Gentleman's Journal, save in connection with two scientific 
articles. One on snow crystals is accompanied by draw- 
ings of the crystals.*' Observations on a late Mock-Sun at 
Paris ®^ by Mr. de la Hire, has a cut of that phenomenon. 

Motteux had no such exalted idea of his performance 
as Dunton had in bringing out the Athenian Mercury, 
Motteux's object is confessed in his dedication of Volume 
I to William, Earl of Devonshire : " My Journals aspire 
no higher, than to attend your Lordship when you enter 
into your Closet, to disengage your thoughts from the 
daily pressure of Business,'' or when his lordship retires 
to his country seat. So should the Journal be looked 
upon, as agreeable pastime for an idle hour. It must 
have been an invaluable adjunct to the drawing-rooms of 
the circles for which it was designed, with its air of gal- 
lantry, its preoccupation with the pseudo literary and 
scientific interests of the world of fashion, its irreproach- 
able list of contributors offering many an anonymity to be 
guessed, its enigmas to be solved, and its songs to be war- 

"March, 1694. ••July, 1694. 

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To-day the Oentlemans Journal is a delight to turn to 
for the light it throws on the literary tastes of its con- 
temporary readers. But it is further significant as the 
first magazine of light literature in English that offers a 
real parallel to our own magazines of similar nature. And 
it appeared seventeen years before the Taller and nineteen 
years before the Spectator. 

DoBOTHY Foster. 

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There seems to be universal agreement among Schiller's 
critics that his last drama, Wilhelm Tell, means a serious 
change of attitude toward the ideal which had guided the 
poet in its predecessors. Some scholars candidly regret its 
looseness of form, calling this a mistake which the poet 
should have avoided. Others endeavor with all possible 
pains to fit the play into the straight-jacket of the estab- 
lished model, and to justify the poef s willful deviations 
from the rules he himself had laid down. A third group 
asserts with much praise that the poet has written a real 
VolJcssiiich — i. e., in this case, a play for the people — ^by 
choosing intentionally a popular style and form, and by 
making a whole people the hero of his play. 

In my opinion, these last interpreters express better than 
any other group Schiller's real intentions, yet do not go far 
enough. Tell is obviously a Volhsstuck, not only in the 
general sense of the word as applied by these critics, but 
also in the sense of close relationship to what is technically 
known as a Volksduck in the history of German literature. 

We know that even during the development of the Ger- 
man drama to its classical magnitude and beauty in the 
eighteenth century, the Volksstuch remained alive, and 
really began to flourish, in spite of the watchword " l5^ber 
Goethe hinaus," in the first half of the nineteenth century. 
Its native soil was Austria, but Volksstucke were known 
everywhere in Germany — particularly in the southern 
states and Switzerland, where the many Tell plays of 
which we have knowledge furnish proof of this fact. 
These VoUcsstiicke were mostly plays of very inferior 
workmanship. Their authors were frequently managers, 


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who wrote for their own troupes, and depended for their 
very existence upon the success of their productions. They 
had to satisfy the taste of the people to whom they catered. 
They were not men sufficiently educated to search through 
history or mythology for suitable material; if they ever 
chose their plots from these fields of knowledge, they re- 
lied mostly upon hearsay. Certain territories, however, 
had their favorite heroes, or their traditional myths and 
sagas, as the managers were shrewd enough to bear in 
mind. The Swiss people did not grow tired of seeing their 
popular hero Tell in an ever-increasing number of plays ; 
neither did the German people in general ever weary of 
the various forms of the Faust story in the puppet plays. 
Besides these favorites, current events, accidents to which 
the authors had been eye-witnesses, and reports of all sorts 
of crimes furnished the greater number of acceptable 
plots. Many of the plays that were produced on such 
foundations were closely related to the notorious Haupt- 
und Staatsaktionen. They had to be sentimental and 
melodramatic in order to give the audience the expected 
thrill and shudder. The plots were loosely constructed; 
no rules were observed, for there were none. Vital points 
and important turns of the plot were discussed in solilo- 
quies. In the midst of the dialog, the author often let his 
characters relate essential facts in narrative form. They 
were also made to display as much coarse wit and sarcasm 
as the author was capable of. Among the entertaining 
features, the songs (Couplets) y adapted to the popular 
taste, played a very prominent part, especially in Vienna, 
where the audiences would occasionally join in the refrain. 
The upper classes were often subjected to a good deal of 
scolding for their extravagances or other shortcomings; 
general remarks, or even rather long reflections about the 
low morality of the times or the decadence of society, 

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schillbb's tell and the volksstCck 61 

were not at all uncominon. For, after all, the Volksstiick 
did not merely wish to entertain, but attempted at times a 
real uplifting of society. Naturally, this object could be 
attained only in very small measure, and could be no 
higher than the moral standard of the author. 

Before comparing these plays with Schiller's Tell, we 
ought to produce evidence that he was more or less famil- 
iar with these pseudo-literary productions. W. v. Molo's 
excellent, but somewhat fictitious, account of the poet's 
youth might be quoted here; but it seems to be based 
largely on the novelist's imagination. No definite asser- 
tion is made that the poet had seen one or the other of the 
Volksstucke. Nevertheless, in view of their popularity, it 
is hardly possible that Schiller was entirely ignorant of 
their existence. In an exhaustive study Roethe ^ has come 
to the conclusion that Schiller must have consulted at least 
the Umer Spiel, Bodmer^s scenes, " and the two plays of 
Ambiehls " j regarding three other plays, he has not reach- 
ed a definite opinion. Kettner ^ has disputed the correct- 
ness of these conclusions. It seems, however, that Kettner 
chiefly objects to Eoethe's citation of several passages in 
Tell, written presumably under the influence of one or the 
other of these plays. Eoethe evidently never intended to 
maintain " dass die dramatische Technik des Tell auf die 
primitive Stufe des Urner Spiels zuriickgleite." ® But in 
view of the facts established by Eoethe there can no longer 
be any doubt '^ dass Schiller sich mit Bewusstsein der Ma- 
nier des alten Volksstiickes angepasst habe." ^ 

In fairness to Schiller, who was at the time of writing 
Tell at the very height of his development as a dramatist 

^Forachungen tsur deuUohen Philologie, Festgabe fUr Hildehra/ndt : 
*'Die dramatischen Quellen des Schillerschen TeU," pp. 224-276. 
*Marhacher Schillerhuch, m, pp. 64 ff. 
»/W(f., p. 76. *Ihid,, p. 71. 

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of the best classical traditions, we must say that this for- 
mulation of Eoethe's view does not do Schiller full justice. 
It would be more nearly correct to say that he adopted 
much of the form, style, and diction of the old Volksstiick, 
but that with his artistic skill and his mastery of metrical 
form he created a play which, in spite of many resem- 
blances to the Volksstiicke, towers high above them all. 
We may formulate our thesis thus: In his Tellj Schiller 
gives to the Volksstiick his stamp of approval ; but by imi- 
tating it, he raises it to a high artistic level. 

That Schiller's Wilhelm Tell has many characteristics 
in common with the Volksstiick can hardly be questioned. 
The real plot opens with the thrilling account of a murder 
committed by a husband defending the honor of his wife. 
This is followed by the long exciting dispute over the res- 
cue of Baumgarten. The same first act then brings an- 
other sensational report of an Austrian atrocity, the blind- 
ing of Heinrich von der Halden and the persecution of his 
son Melchtal, to which is joined a lament over the state of 
blindness. All these features are to be found in one or the 
other of the Tell plays. The poet finds them useful for his 
exposition, and even inserts among them one of his own 
invention, the scene of the slater's accident. As bare facts 
they are, no doubt, melodramatic in character and apt to 
arouse the feelings of any audience, even one of more than 
common education. But Schiller makes them subservient 
to a higher purpose, namely, to show the oppression under 
which a community of upright, unpretentious people is 
suffering ; or, in more general terms, to expound the value 
of that political freedom which guarantees to the individ- 
ual the full enjoyment of his possessions, the security of 
his family, and an independent choice of the means of 
gaining a livelihood. 

The play, abounds in similar scenes full of agonizing 

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sitnations ; among them can be counted the apple-shooting 
Bcene and the arrest of TeU, his escape, the pleading of 
Armgart, and the killing of Gressler. In no other play 
(with the exception of Wallensteins Lager) has Schiller 
included so many scenes of an almost exclusively senti- 
mental value, scenes that were intended to appeal to a 
wider class of people than those who could appreciate Wair 
lenstem, Maria Stuart, or the rest of his plays. 

A further feature of Tell that has its analog in the 
VoUcsstuck is the occurrence of three songs, one beginning 
the first, the other the third, and the last ending the fourth 
act. To be sure, the Rduber has a number of songs inter- 
woven into the text, and the first and the last parts of the 
Wailenstein trilogy have the well-known troopers' song 
and the mournful elegy of Thekla. Only one of them, 
however, can be considered as being of the type of the Tell 
songs, namely, the cavalry song in Wallensteins Lager. 
This is not surprising, since the spirit and the tone of the 
two plays show a certain similarity. It seems, the poet 
considered songs of this type essential means for creating 
the proper atmosphere of informality that characterizes 
the life of the common people. The first set of strophes, 
der Kvhreigen and its variations, with their reflections on 
the occupation of the singers, recalls at once the Schnader- 
hiipfeln and the Couplets of the Volksstuck. The second 
song is a genuine folk-song, and nothing more needs to be 
said about its popularity: it has become a* favorite of Ger- 
man youth. The third song, the funeral dirge of the 
monks, has no direct bearing on the action ; it expresses in 
very simple words the sentiment obviously shared by every 
one who has witnessed the governor's last moments. All 
three songs, therefore, do not represent in any way Schil- 
ler's Gedankerdyrik, but in their simplicity, plain senti- 
ment^ and directness of thought they excel any series of 

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lyrics that Schiller ever wrote. This is not to say that 
Schiller stooped to imitate often vulgar songs of the Volks- 
stiick, but that he raised the indispensable songs like the 
other characteristics to a very high level and gave them 
poetic and dramatic value. 

An almost universal peculiarity of the Volksstuckis 
that in it the characters are given symbolical names. In 
this respect the poet had very little choice or freedom, in- 
asmuch as his principal sources, Tschudi and J. Miiller, 
furnished him with at least the most essential names and 
personages. There is, however, the famous passage, 
" War' ich besonnen, hiess' ich nicht der Tell 1 '', which 
might be pressed into the argument at this point. Schil- 
ler has this expostulation in common with the Urner 
Spiel; that he adopted it shows that he considered it of 
some value for the plot ; and the passage, if it really refers 
to some obsolete meaning of the name Tell, as some com- 
mentators say, may be cited as another instance of carry- 
ing a Volksstuck element into the play. But it is hardly 
necessary to make use of such petty details in order to 
prove our thesis. If further proof is necessary, the long 
narrative passages, Tell's extended soliloquy, the jubilant 
greeting of the people and the Parricida action, or, in a 
word, the whole much discussed fifth act, may be men- 
tioned as further evidences of similarity in style and 
structure. The contentions regarding the fifth act lead us 
to the very crux of the problem, namely the technique of 
the entire drama. The lack of unity of Schiller's Tell has 
been deplored as much as it has been denied. But whether 
we admit that three distinct plots are blended into one 
action, or maintain that the variety of actions does not 
interfere with the unity of the drama, we cannot deny that 
the structure of the play does not show the careful plan- 
ning and fitting of Schiller's other plays. If TeU were 

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SGHELLBB's till and the VOLKSSXtCK 65 

as rigorously symmetrical and r^ular as the Jungfrau 
von Orleans or Maxia Stuart, it might no longer enjoy its 
great popular favor. The very looseness not only of the 
plot, but of the whole structure, a distinct element of the 
VoVcsstuch, largely accounts for the extent of its popu- 

Moreover, we must not forget that Schiller actually in- 
tended to cater to the popular taste. He writes in 1803, 
"Auch bin ich leidlich fleissig und arbeite an Wilhelm Tell, 
womit ich den Leuten den Kopf wieder warm zu machen 
denke. Sie sind auf solche Volksgegestande ganz verteu- 
felt erpicht, und jetzt besonders ist von der schweizerischen 
Freiheit desto mehr die Rede, weil sie aus der Welt ver- 
schwunden ist." Similar statements we find in several 
letters of 1804, especially in those addressed to Iffland, 
to whom he writes that his play ^^ soil die Biihnen Deutsch- 
lands erschiittem ; " Tell is being written " f iir das ganze 
Publikum.'^ If Schiller was serious in regard to this in- 
tention, what else could he mean than that he wished thor- 
oughly to satisfy this public's taste? The whole public 
included those people whose only intellectual food con- 
sisted in Volkssiucke and Kalendergeschichten. Further 
evidence that he actually wanted to please these people we 
may find in statements of his such as that the Flurschiitz 
Stiissi was supposed to occupy the place of the clown in 
ttie old English tragedies. Did he ever consider introduc- 
ing a similar figure in any of the other plays i The clown 
was so dear to the people whom he thought to uplift that 
even for the clown he tried to find a place and the possi- 
bility of transformation into a nobler character. 

*^an muss es wagen, bei einem neuen Stoff 

die Form neu zu erfinden," said Schiller to Goethe, 26 
July, 1800, when discussing the outline for the Jungfrau 
von Orleans. In Tell he had " einen neuen Stoif " and a 

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new purpose^ and lie had the courage to find a new form. 
Through Die Brwut von Messina he had found out that 
classical traditions in the drama can be appreciated only 
by a few select minds. The public in general was not 
mature enough for the cesthetic subtleties of such a play. 
But as a poet he had a mission to the whole public, and 
he was seriously determined to fulfill this mission. The 
classical form was his ideal ; that in spite of his yearning 
for this ideal he could for a purpose temporarily turn away 
from it, is all the more to his credit The outlines for 
a new form were given in the Volksstuck; from it he does 
not merely draw a few details and facts for his plot, but, 
with the true instinct of an artist, he adopts the whole at- 
mosphere. Thus, he does not vulgarize his classical 
achievements; on the contrary, he elevates a vulgar and 
coarse means of amusement to as high a level as he can 
in a first and only attempt. Walzel* says; "Mit einer 
bei seinem Temperament und seiner souveranen Biihnen- 
beherrschimg doppelt wunderbaren Kraft der Einf iihlung 
hat er dem Stoffe sein kiinstlerisches Gesetz abgelauscht." 
The credit for having discovered and practised as one 
of the first of his followers this artistic law belongs to 
L. Anzengruber, the greatest Volksspieldichter of the nine- 
teenth century. There can be no doubt that his plays have 
many technical points in common with Tell; e. g., the pe- 
culiar character of the soliloquies, the songs, and the nar- 
rative passages, the use of the local atmosphere and set- 
ting for the action, and the form in which characters are 
described or delineated. Although Anzengruber never 
mentioned special instances, he nevertheless acknowledged 
more than once in general terms his indebtedness to Schil- 
ler, and spoke of himself as being spiritually akin to the 

'SchUler's Werke, Sftkular Ausg., Cotta, xvi, p. zxr. 

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schillkb's tell and the voLissTOcr 67 

great master. What else could that mean but that he had 
discovered in Schiller and his Tell something that 
strengthened his own artistic convictions and appeared to 
him worthy of emulation in his VolJcsstiickef 

To what extent, however, Schiller himself had con- 
sciously worked out that artistic law of which Bulthaupt 
speaks, is an open question — ^the more so, because it is 
still an unsettled problem how far Schiller consciously and 
intentionally attempted to apply to his own works the dra- 
matic theories he had emphasized in his sesthetic writings. 
It would be an interesting study to determine whether Tell 
or the Jungfrau von Orleans is the more remote from 
meeting these aesthetic requirements. So much is sure : the 
two plays cannot be placed in one and the same category. 
But if cat^orizing there must be, it seems to me far more 
satisfactory, for sentimental reasons at least, to admit that 
Schiller attempted in Tell a model VolksstUck in metrical 
form, than to quibble over details and actions, just because 
they cannot be fitted into the customary system of dra- 
matic technique. 

Adolf Busse. 

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Some time ago in an article on Locrine and Selimus ^ 
I showed the futility of discussing questions of the author- 
ship and chronology of plays written between 1585 and 
1596 on the evidence of parallel passages. I endeavored 
to show that the occurrence of such parallels is much more 
likely to be evidence of different authorship than of com- 
mon authorship. If, now, this kind of evidence, by itself, 
is to be considered of smaU value, where shall we look for 
other evidence that may have more weight and certainty ? 
I believe that something of significance can be found if 
we search carefully for characteristics of style, — forms of 
expression more or less rhetorical, peculiar arrangement 
of terms, favorite collocations of words, devices to " bum- 
bast out " the blank verse. 

Evidence of this nature concerning only one charac- 
teristic of style will, by itself, have very little weight, 
but it is possible that by collecting evidence concerning 
many characteristics and carefully collating it we may 
reach conclusions that will have a reasonable degree of 
certainty. Several years ago I made a study of one such 
characteristic ; the results are set forth in an article. Repe- 
tition and Pardllelism in the Earlier Elizabethan Dra- 
ma;^ in the present paper I propose to examine another 
characteristic, a certain type of blank verse line, and indi- 

* Bhaketpeare Btudiea by Members of the Depariment of English of 
the University of Wisconsin, Madison, 1916, pp. 31-36. Cf. SchrOer, 
Ueber Titus Andronious, pp. 67 f ., 76 f. 

' Publications of the Modem Language Association, xz, pp. 360-379. 


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cate its bearing on some of the problems of authorship and 

It should be borne in mind that when we speak of the 
style of any one of the group of dramatists called the prede- 
cessors of Shakespeare the term does not imply definite and 
unvarying characteristics for all his plays. The develop- 
ment of dramatic writing proceeds with wonderful rapidi- 
ty in the years in which these dramatists wrote, and this 
is reflected very plainly in their work; the style is con- 
stantly changing, and general statements with regard to 
it will usually hold good for not more than two plays, in 
some cases for not more than one play.* 

I pass now to a description of the type of line to be 
considered. Many readers of Tamburlaine have prob- 
ably noticed the rather frequent occurrence in that play 
of lines constructed on the model of the following: 

The fainting army of that foolish king 

I Tamb, n, iii, 11. 660.* 
The naked action of my threatened end 

I Tamb. m, ii, U. 1070. 
The golden statue of their feathered bird 

• I Tomb, IV, ii, U. 1649. 

A line of this type consists of two symmetrical parts joined 
by a preposition or conjunction. Each part consists of 
an article or some other pronominal word, followed by 
an adjective, which is in turn followed by a noun; this 
may be formulated, pronominal word plus adjectwe plus 
noun. The pronominal word may sometimes be wanting 
or may be replaced by some other part of speech, without 
changing the characteristic structure. 

'Cf. BhakeBpeare Studies, p. 18. 

* 7%e Works of Christopher Marlowe, edited by C. F. Tucker Brooke, 
Oxford, 1910. 

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As great commander of this eastern world 

I Tamh. n, vii, 11. 913. 
From dangerous battle of my conquering love 

I Tamh, Y, i, 11. 2223. 
Ye holy priests of heayenly Mahomet 

I Tamh. iv, ii, 11. 1446. 
0, highest lamp of everliving Jove 

I Tamh. v, i, U. 2071. 

The most common connective between the halves of the 
line is the preposition of, as in all the examples above; 
other prepositions are used, but their use is comparative- 
ly rare, except in a few plays.** 

A doubtful battle toith my tempted thoughts 

I Tamh. v, i, 11. 1933. 

A thousand sorrows to my martyred soul 

I Tamh. v, i, 11. 2166. 

But perfect shadows in a sunshine day 

Edw. II, V, i, U. 2013. 

Next to the preposition of, the most common connec- 
tive is the conjunction and.^ 

A sturdy felon and a base-bred thief 

I Tamh. iv, iii, U. 1582. 
happy conquest and his angry fate 

n Tam^b. n, iii, U. 2968. 

In comparatively few cases (42) the half lines are in 

loyal father of a treaoheroue 8on 

Rich. II, V, iii, 60. 
Our happy conquest and his angry fate 

n Tamh. n, iii, 11. 2968. 

In six of these cases the same adjective is used in both 
half lines. 

• Qorhoduc, Jooasta, I Tamhurlaine. 

* The conjunction or is rarely found ; only seven examples have been 
noted, and they have been counted as eases with and. 

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The savage captain of a aavage crew 

Loorine, i, i, 134/ 
For oomnum cause of this our oommon weal 

Joooita, m, i, 64.' 

In six cases positive and negative adjectives emphasize 
the antithesis. 

A quiet aid of her unqiUet state 

Jocaata, iv, iii, 56. 
Thou trtuty guide of my so tn^ileee steps 

Jooaaia, xn, i, 1. 

The cases of antithetical construction are scattered among 
a large nnmber of plays. In only one play are there 
enough of them to give the effect of a characteristic of 
style. In Jocasta, by Gkscoigne and Kinwelmersh, there 
are eight examples; six of these have positive and nega- 
tive adjectives, and one has the adjective repeated. All 
of the examples, with one exception, are found in the 
part of the play (Acts ii, m, v) written by Qascoigne ; 
the exception, iv^ iii, 56 (quoted above) is substantially 
a repetition of m, ii, 16.* 

Lines of the general type discussed above (p. 69) are 
found in the earlier non-dramatic blank verse, but their 
occurrence is comparatively rare. I have examined all 
the non-dramatic blank verse before 1585, with the ex- 
ception of two pieces ; ^^ in only two cases has more than 
one example been found. In Surrey's translation of the 
second and fourth books of the ^neid there are seven 
examples (and 2, of 2, other prepositions 3), all in the 

'The Shakespeare Apoohrypha, edited by C. F. Tucker Brooke, 
Oxford, 1908. 

■ Supposes and Jocasta, edited by John W. Cunliffe, Boston, 1906. 

•"Brings quiet end to this unquiet life." 

*• Turbervile's HeroioaX Epistles of Ovid, and the 170 lines in Bar- 
nabe Rich's Don Simonides. Cf . A. Sehrder, Ueher die Anfdnge des 
Blankverses in England, AngUa, iv, pp. 6-9. 

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second book. In Spenser's blank verse " sonets," in Van 
der Noodt's Theatre, 1569, there are six examples {of 4, 
other prepositions 2). 

The English Senegan Plays 

Connective a/nd of prepo- Total 


Qorboduo 10 32 17 69 

Jooasta 2 21 12 36 

The Spanish Tragedy 6 8 2 16 

Misfortunes of Arthur 4 6 

Wounds of Civil War 9 21 7 37 

Tancred and CHsmunda 2 8 4 14 

Loorine 2 21 23 

Selimus 4 7 2 13 

Titus Andronious 6 4 6 16 

In the Senecan Plays, with a single exception,^^ the 
occurrence of these symmetrical lines is a fairly well 
marked characteristic. Considered with respect to this 
characteristic, the plays fall into two groups. Oorhoduc, 
Jocasta, The Wounds of Civil War, and Locrine have a 
large number of examples; The Spanish Tragedy, Tan- 
cred and Oismunda, Selimus, and Titus Andronicus have 
a smaller number of examples, but more than other plays 
that do not show Senecan characteristics.^^ Some of the 
Senecan plays call for more special notice. 


In the first English tragedy the number of these lines 
(59) is greater than that found in any tragedy of later 
date. Other early tragedies with a large number are Jo- 
casta, 35, Tamburlaine I, 44, Tamburlaine II, 32, Wownds 
of Civil War, 37. Oorhoduc is the joint production of 

" The Misfortunes of Arthur^ with nine cases. 

^ Tamhurladne is, of course, an exception to this statement. 

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SackviUe and Norton; Acts i, u, and in are by Norton, 
Acts IV and v by SackviUe. An examination of the distri- 
bntion of these lines between the two authors shows that 
Norton uses them more than twice as often as Sackville.^^ 
It is further noticeable that SackviUe has no lines with 
and as the connective. 


The facts concerning the joint authorship of this play 
have been stated above (p. 71). The number of sym- 
metrical lines in the play is 35; of these 19 are in the 
part written by Gascoigne and 16 in that written by 
Kinwelmersh. The percentage, however, is twice as great 
for Kinwelmersh as for Gascoigne. Kinwelmersh seems 
to be especiaUy fond of the type with the connective of; 
his percentage of these lines is three times as great as 
that of Gascoigne. I have already called attention to 
Gascoigne^s fondness for antithesis.^* 

Locrine, a play of the extreme Senecan type, rich in 
aU maimer of florid rhetorical ornament, has 23 cases of 
symmetrical lines. Some scholars hold that this play is 
the work of Peele.^*^ The play of Peele's that is nearest 
to Locrine in form and subject is The Battle of Alcazar, 
but in this play the number of cases is only 12. There 
is, then, nothing here to support the contention that Peele 
is the author of Locrine; the evidence is rather against 
it I have shown in another place *^ that the evidence 
from a comparison of the plays with respect to repetition 
and parallelism is of the same nature. 

"In Norton's part the percentage is about 4% per cent.; in Sack- 
ville's it is 2 per cent. 

**S€e p. 71. 

"See W. 8. Gaud, Modem Philology, i, pp. 400-422; P. E. Schel- 
ling, Elusahethan Drama, n, p. 404. 

^*Puh. Mod, La4ig, Amoo., zx, p. 847. 

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Selimus, a play showing characteristics of both Tambur- 
laine and the Senecan plays, has 13 examples, about half 
as many as Locrine shows. Qrosart ^'' has attempted to 
show that Selimus is the work of Greene. The only play 
of Greene's that uses the symmetrical line to any extent 
is Alphonsus of Arragon, with 16 examples. With re- 
spect, then, to this characteristic there is likeness be- 
tween the plays. 

The Misfortunes of Arthur, as noted above, has but a 
small number (9) of these lines. This is noticeable, be- 
cause the play has the general Senecan characteristics in 
a very marked degree. 

Lodge's Senecan play. The Wounds of Civil War, shows 
a large number (37) of symmetrical lines. This is in 
striking contrast with A Looking Glass for London and 
Englamd, in which Lodge collaborated with Greene; here 
only one example is found. 



Connective a/nd of prepo- Total 


Tamburlame 1 14 19 11 44 

Tamburlame II 6 24 3 32 

FaustuM 3 6 8 

Jew of Malta 3 3 

EdtDord II 1 3 4 

Massacre at Paris 2 3 6 

Dido 2 3 6 

The First Part of Tamburlaine has more examples 
(44) of these symmetrical lines than any play examined 
except Oorhoduc. That Marlowe was fond of this rhetori- 
cal form when he wrote the play is shown not only by 
this large number of lines, but also by the variety of con- 
nectives that he used. In the Second Part of Tamburlaine 

" Huth Library, Greene's Works, Temple Dramatists, BHimus. 

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the number of examples (32) is smaller; and it is to be 
noticed further that three-fourths of these have the con- 
nective of, in sharp contract with the variety of connectives 
noted in the First Part. 

In other plays of Marlowe such lines are rather rare, — 
Faustus 8, Jew of Malta 3, Edward II 4, Massacre at 
Paris 5, Dido 5. This fact probably indicates nothing 
more than that this was one of many rather artificial 
ihetorical forms used in Tamburlaine and abandoned in 
the later plays. It is a good illustration of what was 
said above ^® concerning the changing style of these dra- 
matists, and shows plainly that we have here to do with 
a characteristic of Marlowe^s earlier style. Marlowe 
shows nearly twice as many examples as any other of the 
predecessors of Shakespeare.^^ 


Connectiye and of prepo- Total 


Spaniak Tragedy 5 8 2 15 

Cornelia 3 3 4 10 

BoUman and Perseda 4 16 

[/erommo] 3 2 6 

Of the plays with which Kyd's name is connected, the 
Spanish Tragedy is the only one that has more than a 
small number of examples. The First Part of Jeronimo 
has only five examples, as against fifteen in the Spanish 
Tragedy. This may be regarded as a small grain of cor- 
roborative evidence in favor of the contention of those 
who hold that The First Part of Jeronimo was not writ- 
ten by Kyd.^^ It will be noticed that in respect to this 

* See p. 69. " Marlowe 101, Peele 58, Greene 40, Kyd 35. 

■•Cf. Boas, The Worke of Thomaa Kyd, Introduction, pp. zxzix- 
xliv; Ward, A History of English Dramatio Literature^ i, pp. 308-9. 
Thomdike, Mod. Lang. Notes, xvn, pp. 143-4. 

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characteristic The Spanish Tragedy is in sharp contrast 
with Tamburlaine; this fact may be interpreted as evi- 
dence of its independence of Marlowe's play. 



Connective and of prepo- Total 


Alphonaut of Arragon 5 7 4 16 

OrUmdo Fwrioao 2 3 6 

Friwr Bacon and Friar Bungay, .0617 

Jamea rv 6 2 3 10 

Looking GUua for London and 

England 1 1 

Pinner of Wakefield 1 1 

In Greene's plays examples are rare, except in Al- 
phonsTis of Arragon, where there are sixteen. This larger 
number in Alphonsus of Arragon is probably due to the 
strong influence of Tamburlaine upon that play.^^ The 
number of examples in Greene's other plays is insignifi- 



Oonnective a$%d of prepo- Total 


Arraignment of Paris 4 2 6 

Battle of Aloaear 1 7 4 12 

Edward 1 1 6 8 9 

David and Bethsahe 6 20 3 20 

Old Wives' Tale 2 2 

The most noticeable point in Peele's use of these sym- 
metrical lines is the very large number (29) in David 
and Bethsabe as compared with the number in his other 
plays. It is possible that this comparatively large num- 
ber of examples in David and Bethsahe may help to fix its 
date. The play was printed in 1599, after Peek's death. 

"^See Httbener, Der Einfluas von Marlowe^a Tamburlaine auf die 
zeiigendeeiechen und folgenden Dramatiker, Halle, 1901, pp. 6-15. 

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Most authorities make no attempt to date its composition^ 
and of those that give a date only one, Fleay, gives a rea- 
son for the date assigned. Bnllen says, " the date of its 
composition is unknown." ^^ Fleay (Chronicle History, 
u, p. 153) says, " May fairly be dated c. 1588. The sit- 
uations in the play are strikingly suggestive of Elizabeth 
and Leicester as David and Bathsheba, Uriah as Leices- 
ter's first wife and Absalom as Mary Queen of Scots. 
The disguise of political allusions by change of sex was 
not unknown to the early stage." Oliphant Smeaton in 
the introduction to his edition of The Arraignment of 
Paris (Temple Dramatists) ^^ follows Fleay. Ward ^* 
rejects Fleay's idea of political allusions in the play, but 
suggests no date.^*^ " The diction of the play," he says, 
" is suggestive of mature workmanship." Qummere ^* has 
nothing to say concerning the date. Schelling^^ says, 
" perhaps written as early as 1589," but gives no ground 
for this conjecture. W. S. Gaud ^® says, " Peele's Ar- 
raignment of Paris was published in 1584. David and 
Bethsdbe, published in 1599, was probably written next." 
We have, then, two dates assigned to the play, 1588, 1589. 
The only ground given for either date is the wild conjec- 
ture of Fleay noted above. 

Let us consider now whether the large number of sym- 
metrical lines in the play may have any pignificance as 
evidence for determining the date. The large number 
of such lines in Tamhwrlaine would lead us to expect to 

"A. H. Bnllen, The Works of George Peele, London, 1S88, Intro- 
duction, p. xli. 
"Pp. x-xi. 

** History of English Dramatic LfiteraitiMre, i, pp. 876-7. 
* " The date of its composition is unknown." 
"C. M. Gayley, Representative English Comedies, i, pp. 335-341. 
"F. E. Schelling, Eliadbethan Drama, 1008, i, p. 42. 
'^Modern Philology, i, p. 410, n. 2. 

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find them in later plajs related to it in style and manner. 
This we have seen to be the case in Greene's Alphonsus 
of Arragon. Now the play of Peele's that is nearest in 
style and manner to Tamburlaine is The Battle of Al- 
cazar and after that Edward I, but these plays do not 
show this characteristic so strongly as does David amd 
Bethsai)e/^ which is not in the manner of Tamburlaine. 
It is^ therefore^ a fair inference that David and Bethsdbe 
is nearer to the date of Tamburlaine than either of the 
other plays. Now The Battle of Alcazar was played at 
least as early as 1592, possibly as early as 1589.^^ The 
date of Edward I (printed 1593) is undetermined, but it 
is, no doubt, close to that of The Battle of Alcazar. If, 
then, David and Bethsdbe is nearer to Tamburlaine than 
either of the other plays, its date must be about 1588 
or 1589. It must be admitted that this is very slight 
evidence upon which to determine the date of the play; 
slight as it is, however, I think that it may be called 
stronger than any other evidence yet brought forward. 

Shaksspeabb's Histobioal Plays 


Connectiye a$id of prepo- Total 


Richard III 8 23 4 35 

Richard II 10 22 8 40 

King John 8 26 6 40 

I Henry IV 7 6 2 16 

II Henry IV 2 4 4 10 

Henry V 4 2 4 10 

I Henry VI 9 2 11 

// Henry VI 1 7 2 10 

III Henry VI 2 13 

{Contention} 2 2 4 

[True Tragedyl 2 1 2 5 

^DoMd and Bethsdbe, 20; The Battle of AUxutar, 12; Edward I, 9. 
••BuUen, The Works of George Peele, i, Introd., p. zzxrii; The 
Battle of AUxmar, Malone Society Reprint, Introd., p. t. 

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With respect to the use of the symmetrical lines^ the 
historical plays of Shakespeare whose authorship is woll 
established fall into two very distinct groups. Richard 
III, Richard II, and King John have these lines in great 
abundance; in this respect, in fact, they are surpassed 
by only Tambvrlaine, Oorhoduc, and The Wounds of CivU 
War.^^ On the other hand, / Henry IV, II Henry IV, 
and Henry V show a comparatively small number. The 
use of symmetrical lines, then, is a strongly marked charac- 
teristic of Shakespeare's earlier historical plays. 

It remains to consider the three parts of Henry VI. 
Without entering into the bewildering mazes of the ques- 
tion of the authorship of these plays, one may ven- 
ture a brief statOTient of the case. First, there is fairly 
general agreement that Shakespeare did not write the 
First Part; second, the Second Part is a revision and 
enlargement of an earlier play. The First Part of the 
Contention betivixt the two Famous Houses of York and 
Lancaster, and the Third Part a revision of an earlier 
play, The True Tragedy of Richard Duke of York; third, 
the relation of the two earlier to the two later plays is 
a matter of much dispute; fourth, over the question of 
the authorship of both the earlier and later plays there 
goes on an apparently interminable conflict of Shake- 
speare scholars. Peele, Greene, and Marlowe are the 
playwrights who are held to have shared with Shakespeare 
the authorship of these plays, or to have produced them 
without his collaboration, working either separately or 
jointly in various combinations. To the solution of this 
vexed question the present investigation may perhaps con- 
tribute a small bit of significant evidence. 

It has been shown above that the use of symmetrical 

« Sea pp. 72, 74. 

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lines is a strongly marked characteristic of Sheakespeare's 
earlier historical plays. Now, in this respect, the three 
parts of Henry VI show a striking difference from Rich- 
ard III, Richard II, and King John. The three latter 
plays have respectively 35, 40, and 40 cases; the three 
parts of Henry VI have respectively 11, 10, and 3 cases. 
In this respect also the second and third parts of Henry 
VI agree with The Contention and The True Tragedy, 
which have respectively 4 and 5 cases. The second and 
third parts of Henry VI, then, and the two earlier plays 
{Contention, True Tragedy) differ in a striking manner 
from the earlier historical plays of Shakespeare with re- 
spect to this characteristic; they agree, however, in this 
respect, with the later plays of Peele, Greene, and Mar- 
lowe.*^ Our bit of evidence, then, shows that these four 
plays {II Henry VI, III Henry VI, Contention, True 
Tragedy) are closer to the style of the later plays of Peele, 
Greene, and Marlowe than to the earlier historical plays 
of Shakespeare. Just how significant this evidence may 
be, must be left to the judgment of those who are especi- 
ally familiar with all the aspects of this long disputed 

Frank G. Hubbard. 

»Cf. tables, pp. 74, 76. 

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Walter Map's De Nugia Curialiuin, which is preeervBd 
in a unique manuscript of the latter part of the fourteenth 
century,* has been twice edited; in 1850 by Thomas 
Wright,' and in 1914 most admirably by Dr. Montague 
Rhodes James,* It is apparent, even to the casual reader, 
tliat the work was not written continuously from beginning 
to end, but was redacted from fragments composed at 
various times and at various degrees of leisure; both 
editors, however, assume that Map himself arranged the 
fragments and published the book substantially as it now 
stands,' though Dr. James fully appreciates the formless- 
of the work, and admits that '^ the plan .... is to 

With precisely the purpose of seeking the plan I began 
my study, as a consequence of which I am convinced that, 
whether Walter Map had originally a plan, or not, the 
crudities manifest in the disposition of materials are not 
due to the author's slovenliness or mental incoherence so 
much as to the fact that he never completed his editing, but 

^ TUB Btady is a reviaion of a chapter in the thesis submitted by 
me in 1915 for the degree of doctor of philosophy at Hanrard 

' MB. Bodley 851 ; on its age, sec Dr. James's edition of De Nugit 
CuriaUufnj pp. v-ziii. 

*Puhlicati(m9 of Camden Society, No. 50. Referred to hereafter 
as DNO, Wright. 

^Aneodota Owonienaia, Medieval and Modem Series, Fart ziv. 
Referred to hereafter as dnc, James. 

*DNC, Wright, pp. ix-xi, James, pp. zxiv-zxix. 

*DNO, James, p. zzrii. 




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left his materiak fragmentary and unpublished ; such ar- 
rangement as our text of the work may boast is due chiefly 
to a later hand. It, therefore, becomes important first to 
analyze critically the composition which has come down to 
us. When we know surely what it is that we have, we can 
better discern how it became so. 

In analyzing the work, we should remember that we have 
only one manuscript, and that dating from a time nearly 
two centuries after the book was written. "^ In this manu- 
script, the frequent rubrics give a specious impression of 
finished and ordered composition, an impression that is 
heightened in the printed texts by drawing these half- 
marginal guides into the unequivocal position of chapter 
headings. As a rule, however, they are without aiitiiority. 
An indication of this is in the spelling of the autiior's 
name, which occurs five times in the titles of De Nxvgis,^ 
and once elsewhere in the manuscript.* In all six instances 
it appears as " Mahap,'' while in the text of De Nugis it is 
" Map," ^® the only form ever used by the contemi)oraries 
of Walter. *^ From this curious bit of evidence, I suspect 

^ Dif o, James, p. vi. 

• DNC, James, pp. 1, 40, 266, 267, 269. 

*DNo, James, p. xi (ics. f. 118 y.) : "Apocalipsis Magistri Galteri 

'«DNO, James, p. 246, U. 16, 21, 30; p. 247, 11. 3, 9, 17; p. 248, U. 
3, 6, 16, 18. 

"Giraldus Cambrensis r^^larly wrote "Mapus" (see indexes to 
his Works in the Rolls Series). Hue de Rotelande (Ipom6don, ed. 
KOlbing and Koschwitz, pp. vi-vii and 11), Map's Westbory charier 
(Wright, haiUi Poems commonly attributed to Welter Mopes, p. 
xxix), the 8t. Peter's charter (Cartularium 8. Petri Oloucestriae, t. 
n, p. 146), the two Flaxley charters (A. W. Grawley-Boerey, Oartnh 
lory of the Alley of Flamley, pp. 36, 162-63, 230-31), the entry in the 
Close Rolls {RotuU Litterwrum Clausarum, ed. T. D. Hardy, 1833, v. 
I, p. 106), the Pipe Rolls (see indexes to years 19, 24 and 31 Henry 
II), the Magna Vita 8, Eugonis (ed. J. F. Dimoek, p. 280), and 
Ralph de Dioeto (ed. Stabbs, ▼. n, p. 160) all giw "Map." The 

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that the rubrication, and consequently, I think, the com- 
pilation of Map's fragments were not accomplished until 
some time after his generation; but I forbear to press the 

The rubrication, furthermore, is often unsystematic, 
even incorrect For example, in the first six columns of 
the manuscript occur the following titles: Assimvlacio 
Curie regis ad inf emium. CapUtdum primvm, De vnfemo. 
ii, De TantcUo, De Sisipho. iiii, De Txione. v, De Ticio. vi, 
De germinibus noctis. In Capitulum primum, however, 
there is no reference to infemus; the court is tested by 
definitions of tempus, gen/us, and fortuna. Furthermore, 
the rubrics from De Tantalo on are mere sub-heads to De 
inferno; and De germinibus noctis belongs to only the first 
few lines of the long section that follows. Clearly these, 
with exception of the first, were once no more than 
marginal annotations, rubricated as chapter headings by a 
later copyist In confirmation, it should be noticed that De 
Yxione is intruded so as to break incorrectly the initial 
sentence which belongs to that title.** Only the first of 
these titles, therefore, is to be assigned to the original 
rubricator, whether Map, or another; yet the chapter 
numbering of the entire Distinciio follows from them. 

Another instance of taking a marginal note as a new 
chapter heading is Dist v, cap. iv, De Cnutone rege 
Dacorum,^^ which irrationally breaks the romantic life of 
Earl Gbdwin into two parts ; either the story should be sub- 
same speUing is used for the Wormesley Maps (H. L. D. Ward, 
Catalogue of Romances, ▼. i, pp. 736 ff.), and the contemporary Map 
in the Liher Vitae of Durham (ed. Stevenson, p. 19). The erased 
name in this last place is "Maph"; and the Inveeiio of Bothewald 
gives the name " Walterum Mat " (Wright, Latin Poema, p. xxzy). 

"dno, James, p. 4. Compare the same sentence on p. 250, IL 23-24. 

" DNc, James, p. 210. 

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84 jAJUxs HurroK 

divided into all its episodes, or it should not be interrupted 
at all. Likewise the rubrics Conclusio epistole premisse 
and Finis epistole premisse *' are unwarrantably thrust 
into the Epistle of Valerius, and numbered as dbapter 

The contrary fault of insufficient rubrication is es- 
pecially manifest, as would be expected of a flagging scribe, 
in the last Distinctio. Following the title De primo 
Henrico rege Anglorum et Lodowico rege Francorum^^ is 
a medley of anecdotes about a variety of personages; the 
title applies properly to none but the first anecdote. So it 
is with the next title De morte Willelmi Rufi regis Anr 
glorum.^'' The chapter runs on through an historical 
sketch of subsequent English kings, and includes a di- 
gression on the emperor Henry V. These two rubrics, to- 
gether with De Cnutone rege Dacorum, may probably be 
assigned to the later copyist. If so, the Distinctio origi- 
nally must have been almost unbroken. The final chap- 
ter,^® which purports to be a recapitulation of the intro- 
ductory comparison of the court to hell, contains none of 
the sub-titles found in the opening pages. 

Attention has already been called to the misplacement of 
the rubric De Yxione}^ A similar case is in Dist i, cap. 
xxvi, Recapitulacio Orandimorvtensium^^ In both these 
places Dr. James has restored the text with certainty. Not 
unlike is the curious situation of Dist. v, cap. lUyDe origine 
Oodwini comitis et eius moribus.^^ Immediately after this 
title are some eighteen lines on prognostications of several 

" DNC, James, pp. 157-68, Dist. iv, cap. iv-v. 

^ DNC, James, p. 218, Dist. v, cap. v. 

" DNC, James, p. 232, Dist. v, cap. vi. 

" DNC, James, pp. 248-55, Dist. v, cap viL 

^Cf. p. 83, above. 

"DNOy James, p. 54. Possibly also Dist. i, cap. xz, p. 29. 

"^DNO, JaacMS, p. 206. 

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capturee of Jerufialem^ after wbich. abruptly begins the 
long story of Earl Godwin; there is no conceivable relation 
between the two themes^ and no ingenious connection^ 
such as Map might have made. Obviously Map did not 
write that title; if he had^ it would follow the exposition 
of omenS; not preceda 

The fragmentary passage on omens may have been com- 
plete originally, and a leaf of the manuscript may have 
been lost; but after the loss, and before the title was in- 
serted, the whole passage must have been copied once, 
running the fragment into the Godwin romance so closely 
that the rubricator supposed it had some mysterious appro- 
priateness to that context. Oddly enough, no one has since 
complained of the incoherenca 

Another curious instance is at the beginning of Dist iv, 
where the titles run as follows: Prologus i, EpUogus it, 
Dissiumo Vaierii ad Ruffinum philosophum ne vxorem 
ducat Hi, Conclusio epistole premisse. Finis epistole 
premisse v.*^ An inspection of the text will convince any- 
one that the final lines of the chapter entitled Epilogus 
were written expressly to introduce the Epistle of Valerius 
when the author conceived the purpose of including that 
earlier composition in De Nugis Curialium, and also that 
he wrote at the same time the lines headed Finis epistole 
premisse, in which he comments on the popular reception 
accorded the Epistle, the disbelief in his authorship, the 
general badness of contemporary judgment, and the par- 
ticularly -reprehensible n^lect of the venerable Gilbert 
Foliot, who. Map says, is still alive. This gives us a 
terminus ad quern for the composition of the preceding 
pages, February, 1187." 

"DNO, James, pp. 138-159. 

^Badulphug de Diceto, RpUs Series, v. ii, p. 47. dnc, James, p. 
158 : '* GlUebertus Foliot nunc Lundunensis episcopus." 

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If, now, we look back, we find cause for surprise. In the 
opening lines of the EpUogua, Map declares that he is 
writing two years after the death, of Henry IT,^* that is, 
about July, 1191. Thus we find a chapter (Dist. iv, cap. 
ii), hitherto r^arded as a coherent unit, which was ap- 
parently begun in July, 1191, and finished before Febru- 
ary, 1187. There are two possible explanations of this 
curious phenomenon: either Map himself fitted the two 
compositions together when he wrote the 1191 passage, or 
he intended those opening lines of cap. ii for a real epi- 
logue, and they have been placed by accident where they 
stand. In the former case. Map cannot be the author of 
the title Epilogus, since it is absurd in such a position. 
In the latter case, the text itself is badly confused.^* 

There is one more instance of poor rubrication that 
deserves notice. The title of Dist iv, cap. viii, reads: 
Item de fantastids aparicionibus.^^ This title is like sev- 
eral in Dist II, as follows : cap. xi, De aparicionibus fan- 
tasticis, cap. xii to xvi. Item de eisdem aparicionibvs.^'' 
But in Dist iv, there is no such tale before the chapter 
mentioned above, and, as I show later,^® the chapter in 
Dist IV was written earlier than those in Dist n. Hence 
the title must be referred to a copyist^* 

In review, then, we have seen that Map's name is con- 
sistently misspelled in the rubrics, that the rubrication in 
general is unsystematic, irregular, unauthentic, that it has 

**DNO, James, p. 141: " Verumtamen audita morie domini met 
predict! regie post biennium ad puteal exsurgo." 

*For the present I reserve my opinion on these alternatives; see 
pp. 91 f., below. 

" DNO, James, p. 173. 

"DNC, James, pp. 72-80. 

** See pp. 104, 111, below. 

""Of course, if Map were editor, he might have written the title; 
I rely on the other evidence that he was not editor of De Nugis. 

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WAI.TEB map's db jstuqib cubialium 87 

in two cases disguised tlie fragmentary obaracter of the 
contents of the book^ unrelated materials being forced 
under a single heading. It is apparent^ then^ that the titles 
are in general devoid of authority, and further that the 
text must originally have been rubricated so insufficiently 
that we can hardly believe the author edited and pub- 
lished it 

Now that it is dear that the titles are not all authentic, 
let me direct attention to one particular title, that of the 
last chapter : RecapUulacio principii huius libri oh diver- 
sUatem litere et non sententie^^ By italicizing repetitions 
of phrase, Dr. James has made it easy to compare this 
chapter with the composition that introduces De Nugis; 
one finds that where the idea of the introduction is re- 
produced the words are almost identical, but that the il- 
lustrative matter, digressions, and so forth are often differ- 
ent; in short, there is, the title notwithstanding, more di- 
versity of sentencia than of litera. 

I notice this inaccuracy of title because I doubt that ^lap 
intended this composition as a recapitulation. As the book 
stands now, the chapter has the place of an epilogue ; but 
it fulfills the function of epilogue indifferently, for the 
theme which it recapitulates has not been developed in the 
work, but is confined to the introductory pages. It cannot 
be said that De Nugis Curialium as a whole is concerned 
with showing the wickedness and hardships of the court; 
on the contrary, a large part of Dist v, as Dr. James ob- 
serves, has for its " professed object to show that 

modem times have produced heroes as remarkable as those 
of antiquity." '^ These heroes are kings, counts, and 

**DNO, James, p. 248. 

"^DNo, James, p. xziz. This accurately describes the purpose of 
diapters i, ii, and y; chapters iii and iv may be included. 

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barons, many of whom Map had met during his courtly 
life; a eulogy of them is not a good approach to a com- 
parison of the court to helL It must be admitted tiiat 
whoever put Map's fragments into their present order in- 
tended to round out the work by making it end where it 
had begun ; but, in view of the circumstances which I have 
noted, the intention was unfortimate. I think this so- 
called Recapitulacio is probably nothing but an early draft 
of the composition that introduces the entire work. 

There are other instances of repetition in De Nugis 
Curialium,*^ The story of Edric Wilde and his son Alnod 
is told at length in Dist ii, and summarized briefly in Dist. 
IV, with an inconsistency as to the form of the tabu laid on 
Edric.*' Likewise, the story of the Climiac monk who re- 
embarked in temporal affairs and was slain is related in 
Dist. I and Dist iv with inconsistencies of detail.^* There 
is no reference in either case to the other narration of the 
same incidents. 

More remarkable is the repetition of the filU mortuae 
story, which is in Dist. n and Dist. iv.'*^ In the former 
place (p. 78, 1. 5) the words, " ille Britonum de quo su- 
perius," refer unmistakably to the same story on pages 
173-74. Here, it must be observed, pages 173-74 must not 
only have been written before page 78, but must also have 
been intended to precede page 78, so far as the author had 
a plan of arrangement. If Map had edited his fragments 

•■ Dist I, cap. xxvi, xxviii recapitulate cap. rvi, xvii (dno, James, 
pp. 25-27, 54-56) ; and the battle of Brenneville is treated on pp. 218 
and 228. But these repetitions are within the limits of one composi- 
tion, either written continuously, or arranged by Map from bits 
written at about the same time; the second occurrence in each case 
refers explicitly back to the former. 

"DNO, James, pp. 75-77, 176, Dist. n, cap. xii, Dist. iv, cap. x. 

■•dno, James, pp. 19-20, 172-73, Dist. i, cap. xiv, Dist. iv, cap, viL 

" Dist. n, cap. xiii, Dist. iv, cap. viii. 

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and arranged them for publication in tbeir present order, 
he surely would have deleted the misleading reference cited 

On page 59, there is another reference that should have 
been deleted. After a series of accounts of various 
religious orders. Map mentions the "Knights of St James, 
adding: " de quibus superius sermo decessit^' There is, 
however, no other mention of them in De Nugis Curialium, 
and yet there is apparently no lacuna in the pages that 
treat of the religious orders.** Unquestionably Map wrote 
a chapter on the Knights of St James, and it has dis- 
appeared. If Map wrote these accounts on separate sheets> 
and never combined them into a continuous treatise, the 
loss of exactly one chapter would not be surprising. After 
the combination into one composition, it is unlikely that the 
single chapter on the Knighte of St James could have 
vanished without taking with it a part of one or two 
other chapters. The chapter must have been lost before the 
fragments were compiled ; yet the reference to it on page 59 
was not removed, as Map would doubtless have done if he 
had been the final editor of his work. 

In De Nugis, moreover, there are several incomplete 
chapters. The story of the Seneschal of France '^ barely 
begins before it stops short, though there is nothing in our 
manuscript to mark the lacuna. Similarly, the story of 
Earl Gk)dwin breaks off in the very midst of a well-known 
motive,** that of a death-letter altered to the hero's ad- 

**The compoBition is not continuous between the several articles 
thronghout cap. zvi-xxviii (dno, James, pp. 25-56) which deal witii 
religious orders; with cap. xxviii, however, it becomes continuous, 
and is so through p. 59 (cap. xxx), where the above mentioned 
reference occurs. 

"DNO, James, p. 102, Dist. n, cap. zxxi. 

* DNO, James, p. 218, Dist. v, cap. iii-iv. 

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90 JAMX8 Hnrrov 

vantage; we have the tale complete in tiie Yita HaroldiV 
At both these places, Dr. James infers that a leaf was lost 
in the archetype of our manuscript. It may be so ; but is it 
not curious that in both cases the lost leaf ended exactly at 
the end of the chapter? For immediately after each of 
these abrupt breaks, there follows a title and a new chapter. 
The safer inference seems to be that two imperfect chap- 
ters were allowed to take place in the edited De Nugis 

Besides, it will be remembered that the first eighteen 
lines after the title De origine Oodwmi comitis et eius 
moribus are a fragment entirely unrelated to what fol- 
lows,*® and equally so to what precedes. Was there a lost 
leaf at the beginning of the Qodwin story as well as at the 
end ? I do not think it a safe explanation. All these im- 
perfect fragments, it may be noted, are unconnected with 
their preceding context by any transitional device, and are 
not clearly related in theme. 

Again, the chapter De Androneo imperatore Constanti- 
nopolUano^^ is probably imperfect. It looks as if Map 
started to tell something about the mercenaries in Con- 
stantinople, made a digression on the degeneracy of the 
modem Greeks, and broke off without telling his anecdote. 
Dr. James is doubtless correct in assigning this chapter to 
a date after 1185 ; *^ and since in that year Andronicus was 
assassinated, we should expect Map to have finished his 
account of that adventurous life. As in the former cases, 
this chapter is unlinked to its context; like them it is an 
isolated fragment thrust incomplete into the book. 

" Bee Walter de Gray Birch, Yita Haroldi (TAfe of King Harold), 
pp. 13-16, F. Michel, Ohromque$ Anglo-Normanda, v. n, pp. 152-54. 
^ See pp. 84 1, above. 

^ DNo, James, pp. 85-87, Dlst. n, cap. xviii. 
* DNOy James, p. xzv. 

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But of fill the evidence that Walter Map did not give De 
Nugis Curialium its actual arrangement, I find the most 
convincing in the first chapters of Dist. rv, which have al- 
ready claimed some attention. The first chapter, entitled 
Prologvs, begins as a prologue might well begin, but does 
not lead up to anything; in fact its conclusion seems so 
abrupt to Dr. James that he suspects aaother imperfect 
chapter.*' It was written, Map tells us, in June, 1183.** 
Chapter ii is entitled Epilogus; now this is a strange place 
for an epilogue, but the chapter b^ins more like an 
q)ilogue than any other in the booL It is necessary to 
sunmiarize its contents. 

Map declares that he has written " this little book " by snatches 
(raptim) in the court of Henry n, constraining the unwilling 
Muses. After the death of his master, he had mourned his loss for 
two years, but now at last he has come to realize how blest he is in 
his freedom from the arduous and distasteful duties of court at- 
tendance. Here the word '' quiete " which he has used of his present 
life strikes him as ironical, and he deplores the anarchy that had 
foUowed Henry's death, declaring that literary lawlessness befits such 
times; therefore he will no longer shrink from unworthy entrance 
into the lists (the Muses cannot avenge themselves), and so he sends 
forth his '' little book," well aware that the ungodly into whose 
liands it will come will scorn it without reading it. But, he declares, 
if it bdiooves him to jot down what occurs to him, he wiU insert 
here a letter that he once wrote to a friend who was on the brink of 

Thereupon he gives the Epistle of Valerius, which, as we 
have noticed, is immediately followed with a passage, 
obviously written at the time that the letter was first in- 
serted in the De Nugis materials, in which Map mentions 

^DNO, James, p. 140, note. 

** Cf. DNO, James, p. xzv. 

*DNO, James, p. 142, IL 11 ff.: " inuident priusquam 

uideant. Incidencia uero si notare fas est, incidit. Amicum habui, 
uirum uite philosophice, etc." 

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Gilbert Foliot as alive, thou^ nearing the end of his 
days.** In this place I will merely state that the subsequent 
chapters as far, at least, as chapter xii (pp. 183-86) were 
clearly arranged into their sequence by Map himself; a 
detailed consideration will come later. 

What, then, is the rationale of the arrangement of Dist 
IV, cap. i-xii ? First comes a " Prologus '' that seems to 
justify its title, but ends abruptly and leads up to nothing. 
Next we have an " Epilogus " that begins epilogue-wise, 
but somehow becomes an introduction to a long series of 
chapters ingeniously linked together by the author. The 
Prologus may be dismissed ; certainly it was not intended 
as a prologue to this Distinctio. 

The Epilogus is more puzzling. If Map had edited cap. 
ii-xii, as they now stand, he could not have called cap. ii 
an epilogue. If, on the other hand, it was not so entitled in 
Map's manuscript, what scribe would have been mad 
enough to designate " Epilogus '^ a chapter in the very 
heart of the work ? Necessarily we must infer that Map 
wrote the first part of the chapter as an epilogue to some- 
thing, and himself inscribed the title above it. If he did 
so, he cannot be held responsible for the inclusion in this 
chapter of the paragraph that introduces the Epistle of 

As soon as one comprehends this, one realizes that tihe 
apparent continuity of this chapter is the result of chance, 
not of design. The passage banning, " Incidencia uero 
si notare fas est,'' *^ does not really cohere well with what 
now precedes it, but might just as well follow some other 
chapter in De Nugis Curialium. For example, let the 
reader place it after Dist i, cap. xii (p. 19), and see how 

^DNO, James, p. 159. Gilbert died in February, 1187. 
*' DNO, James, p. 142, U. 12 ff. 

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well it fits. Hereafter I ehow reason for believing that it 
probably belongs there. 

Let ns review the evidence up to this point. Many of 
the titles in De Nugis Curialvum are inserted by copyists ; 
the deletion of these spurious titles would leave long pas- 
sages inadequately divided into chapters, and would, in 
general, reduce the rubrication to such irr^ularily as to 
forbid the idea that the book was really edited. Two 
stories are repeated without cross reference, and with inh 
consistency of details. Another story appears twice with a 
reference from the first occurrence to the second, as if that 
preceded. Map refers to one chapter that was lost before 
the present arrangement of his work. The BecapitvJacio at 
the end of De Nugis is not what its title professes ; the title 
is probably unauthentic, and the chapter was not intended 
for the place it occupies. There are several incompleted 
compositions in the book which are not satisfactorily ex- 
plained away by supposing lost leaves in the archetype of 
our manuscript In two chapters alien matter is quite 
irrationally included. The first two chapters of Dist. iv, 
though entitled Prologus and Epilogus, have no connection 
whatever with the rest of the DisHnctio. Later we shall 
find that there are other interruptions in the continuily of 
the thought, other chapters and groups of chapters un- 
connected with their context. 

From all this it is evident that Walter Map left his 
materiab in a fragmentary, at best half -edited, state, and 
that they were put together by some compiler with little 
effort to make them coherent. The book is not to be judged 
as a finished work. To understand it more thoroughly, we 
must ascertain, as far as possible, at what times the several 
coherent fragments were written, to what extent, and in 
what way, the author gave a partial order to his composi- 

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94 J.AJCB8 HnrroK 

In a few instances^ the date at which Map was writing 
can be determined precisely from references to contempo- 
rary events. In others, the limits, or a single limits of time 
can be set These data can be supplemented by an analysis 
of the book into fragments whose continuity of thou^t and 
explicit transitions from topic to topic show either that 
their composition was continuous, or that the chapters were 
arranged in order by the author. I have analyzed the book 
into twenty such fragments, some long, and some extremely 
short. These I will now take up in the order in whidi they 
stand in the mianuscript 

Fbagmeutt I 

Dist. I, cap. i-xii, pp. 1-19.^ 

The first eighteen pages of De Nugis Curialmm were 
written consecutively just as they now stand, except for a 
few interpolated lines which I shall consider shortly. Map 
begins with a parody on St. Augustine: * "I am in the 
court, I speak of the court, yet I know not, God knows, 
what the court is." Thereupon he tests the meaning of the 
term curia by definitions of tempus, germs, fortuna, and 
infemus. The last affords the most pleasing analogies, and 
accordingly Map elaborates the comparison at length, di- 
gressing occasionally, but ever returning to the same theme. 
His conclusion * is that the court has decided resemblances 
to hell, but the King is not to blame, since only all-seeing 
God can discern the hearts of men and so control them. 
Hence all courts are unquiet, but the English court most 

^ Page references are to Dr. James's edition of De KugU. 

'See DNC, Wright, p. 1, note. St. Augustine, ConfessumB, id, 25; 
Map quotes from memory freely, "In tempore sum et de tempore 
loquor, ait Augustinus, et adiecit, nesdo quid sit tempus." 

*DNO, James, p. 12, Wright, p. 14. 


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harried and restless of all. Amid such disturbances, Map 
protests, he is bidden to write ; a miracle is required of him. 
But he b^ns the next chapter (cap. xi) with the words: 
" Yet legends tell of one, and only one, court like this of 
ours." * The story of King Herla follows. 

This story is a sort of exemplum to cap the foregoing 
dissertation. Its point of application comes properly at 
the end. After recounting the last appearance of Herla's 
host, which occurred in the first year of Henry II's reign. 
Map concludes : Moreover, these phantom travellers ceased 
from that hour, as if, to their own relief, they had turned 
over to us the curse of perpetual wandering; it would; you 
see, be better for you to enjoin silence on me, unless you 

wish to hear how deplorable is the lot of a courtier ; 

do you wish, though, to hear of some recent happenings f * 

The next chapter (cap. xii) begins : " A King of 
Portugal, who is now living and, after his fashion, still 
reigning, etc'' ® The story of this king is followed by 
further reflections on the wickedness and turbulence of 
courts, especially that of England, which is "prooellosa 
pre ceteris mater affliccionum et irarum nutrix," ^ and on 
the impossibility of obtaining literary leisure in such sur- 
roundings. Under protest. Map consents to his friend's 
request, though contrasting his circumstances with the 
favorable situations of three contemporary authors, Gilbert 
Foliot, Bishop of London, Bartholomew, Bishop of Exeter, 
and Baldwin, Bishop of Worcester: " Hii temporis huius 
philosophi, quibus nichil deest, qui omni plenitudine 
refertam habent residenoiam et pacem f oris, recte ceperunt^ 
finemque bonum consequentur. Sed quo mihi portus> qui 
vix vaco vivere ? " • 

*Difc, James, p. 13, 11. 13-14. ^dno, James, p. 17, 11. 31-32. 

*DiTO, James, pp. 15-16. *dito, James, pp. lS-19. 

*Difo^ James, p. 16, L 4. 

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96 JAMBS Hnrroir 

Throughout these eighteen pages the thought is perfectly 
continuous. If Map had abeady written the stories of 
King Heria and of the King of Portugal^ we must believe 
he made them oyer at the time when he wrote the intro- 
ductory composition, since the accompanying moralizations 
continue directly the train of thought in the pages that 
precede. The transitions^ so far, are natural and easy. At 
the end of these eighteen pages, however, there is a break 
in the thought; at that point a new fragment commences. 

Throughout Fragment I, it is evident to the reader, 
Map's point of view is consistently that of an actual mem- 
ber of the court; ' and, since he tells us elsewhere that he 
withdrew from court-life when Henry II died,^^ he must 
have written this Fragment before July, 1189. Even more 
precise limits are set by his reference to the three bishops 
who were writing at the same time as he ; ^^ that reference 
must have been made between August 10, 1180 and De- 
cember 15, 1184." 

*See particularly: bno, James, p. 1, 1. 6, "quod in curia sum"; 
p. 4, I. 11, ''Quis ibi cruciatus qui non sit hio multiplicatus?" also 
n. 14, 18, 28; p. 8, 1. 16, p. 12, 11. 15 ff., Henry n, who is meant be- 
yond doubt, is still alive; p. 13, 11. 1 ff.; p. 15, 11. 25-26, "anno primo 
coronacionis nostri regis Henrici," surely must refer to the reigning 

sovereign; p. 17, 11. 31-32, "Et tu inter has precipis poetari 


" DNO, James, p. 141, 11. 4-8. 

" DNc, James, p. 18, IL 20-30. 

"Gilbert Foliot was Bishop of London from April 28, 1163, until 
his death, February 18, 1187 (Radulphus de Dioeto, ed. Stubbs, Rolls 
Series, i, p. 309, n, p. 47, Benedictus, ed. Stubbs, Rolls Series, n, p. 5) , 
Baldwin was Bishop of Worcester from August 10, 1180, to De- 
cember 16, 1184, when he became Elect of Canterbury; Dr. James's 
date (p. xxiv) obviously refers to his consecration as archbishop, 
not to his election (cf. Benedictus, i, p. 321, Annates MonasHoi, ed. 
Luard, RoUs Series, i, p. 52, n, p. 241, iv, p. 384). Bartholomew 
was Bishop of Exeter from 1161 until his death, December 15, 1184 
(Dioeto, J^ p. 304, Annales Monastioi, i, p. 537, n, p. 243, iv, p. 386, 

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I have taken pains to make it clear, first, that this Frag- 
ment was written consecutively and in pursuance of a con- 
tinnous train of thought, rather than pieced together, and, 
secondly, that it was written not only before the death of 
Henry II (1189), but before December 16, 1184, because 
it contains a later interpolation of a few lines, which. mis- 
led Dr. James as to the date at which the whole context was 
composed/' In the very midst of the introductory com- 
parison of the court to hell, comes the following passage: 

.... venimptamen venatores haminum, quibus iudicium est datum 
de nita uel de morte ferarum, mortiferi, comparacione quonim 
MinoB est misericorB, Radamantus racionem amans, Eacus equanimis. 
Nichil in his letum nisi letiferum. [Hos Hugo prior Selewude, iam 
eleciua Linoolnie, reperit repulsos ab hostio thalami regis, quos ut 
obiurgare uidit insolenter et indigne ferre, miratus ait: ''Qui uos?" 
Responderunt : '' Forestarii sumus." Ait illis : '' Forestarii f oris 
stent." Quod rex interius audiens risit, et exiuit obuiam ei. Cui 
prior: "Vos tangit hec parabola, quod, pauperibus quos hii torquent 
paradisum ingressis, cum forestariis foris stabitis.'* Rex autem hoc 
▼erbum serium habuit pro ridiculo, et ut Salomon excelsa non abstulit, 
forestarios non deleuit, sed adhuo nunc post mortem auam litant 
coram Leuiatan cames hominum et sanguinem bibimt. Excelsa 
Btruunt, que nisi Dominus in manu forti non destruxerit non 
auferoitur.] Hii dominum sibi presentem timent et placant, Deum 
quem non uident offendere non metuentes. Non dico quin multi 
uiri timorati, boni et iusti nobiscum inuoluantur in ciu'ia, nee quia 
aliqui sint n hac ualle miserie, indices misericordie, sed secimdum 
maiorem et insaniorem loquor aciem.^* 

Roger de Hoveden, ed. Stubbs, Rolls Series, n, p. 280, Stubbs, Regit- 
trum Bacrum AngHoanum, p. 31). Dr. James's dates are not quite 
accurate (p. xxiv). 

" I infer that Dr. James is misled from the following facts: in his 
table of ** notes of time " in De NugU (p. xxiv) he records none of the 
indications that Henry n was alive except that on p. 16, IL 25-20, 
which he qualifieB, " Possibly in Henry ifs lifetime "; he does record 
the mention of Henry's death which occurs in the interpolated lines 
here under consideration; and on p. xxviii he expresses his opinion 
that Dist. IV iB the earliest part of De Nugia, 

** DNO, James, p. 5, 1. 16 to p. 6, 1. 6. 

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Hugh was elect of Lincoln from May 24 to Sept^nber 
21, 1186 ; " hence the incident here related happened at 
least two years after Map wrote the passage referring to the 
three literary bishops. Furthermore, the words, "nimc 
post mortem suam [sc. Henrici II]," show that this anec- 
dote was written after July, 1189. Since all indications in 
the context lead to the conviction that it was written during 
the lifetime of Henry II, we see that the tale of St Hugh 
and the foresters must have been inserted, perhaps mar- 
ginally, several years after the completion of Fragment I. 

I have bracketed the interpolated lines. If one compares 
the context with the corresponding part of the Recapir 
tulacio ^* (Dist. v, cap. vii), it will be observed that the 
words that here follow the interpolation are closely para- 
phrased, though there is netting about foresters in the Re- 
capittUacio. The bracketed lines may be omitted without 
breaking the continuity of the thought 

Thus we find that Fragment I, comprising the first 
eighteen pages of De Nugis CuriaXium (Dist. i, cap. i-xii), 
is a continuous and coherent composition, written between 
August 10, 1180 and December 15, 1184. It purports to 
be an introduction to the book which Map was planning, 
and cannot be reasonably regarded otherwise. Since, 
therefore, I show later that most of Dist iv, was written 
about September, 1181, the time of composition of Frag- 

^RadAilphus de Diceto, n, pp. 41-42, Benediotus, i, pp. 345» 353. 
The same anecdote is found in Magna Vita B. HugorUs, Rolls Series, 
p. 176. 

^*DNC, James, p. 253, 11. 26 ff.: '* £t cum ipse fere solus m hao 
valle miaerie iusticie sit minister acceptus, sub alis eius venditur et 
emitur. Ipsi tamen fit a ministris iniquis reuerencia maior quam 
Deo; quia quod ei non possunt abscondere recte facient inuit[at]i; 
quod autem Deo manifestum sciunt, peruertere non verentur; Deus 
enim serus est ultor, hie veloz. Non in onvnet loquor iudioea, ted tfi 
maiorem et [in] insaniorem partem,** 

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m^it I may confidently be put between August 10, 1180, 
and September, 1181. 

Fbagmsnt II 
Dist 1, cap. xiii-xiv, pp. 19-20 

With cap. xii, the first fragment certainly ends.* Cap. 
xiii, b^ns abruptly, without indicating any connection in 
thought with the preceding chapter. On the other hand the 
transition from cap. xiii to cap. xiv is explicit, and the 
theme of these two chapters is identical ; each tells the story 
of a monk who temporarily left the cloister. There is no 
sort of connection between cap. xiv and what follows. 
Fragment II, therefore, consists of only two chapters, Dist 
I, cap. xiii and xiv. 

Map here declares that Hiimbert de Beaujeu was at that 
time in conflict with his son.* But Humbert died in 1174.* 
If these chapters, then, were written during his lifetime, 
ihey cannot have been intended for De Nugis. It seems 
rather likely that Map was mistaken, confusing Humbert 
with some other Burgundian baron. If so, this Fragment 
eannot be dated at all. 

Fragment III 
Dist 1, cap. XV, pp. 21-25 

Fragment III consists of a single rather long chapter, a 
lamentation over the capture of Jerusalem by Saladin. It 

^Dr. James (p. xxvii) seems to force a connection: "The idea of 
' making a good ead * by retiring from the court to Uve in peace» 
suggests the stories of monks who left the cloister." There is in the 
text no indication ot this; and since the ideas are directly contrary, 
I do not feel the force of Dr. James's suggestion. 

*DNO, James, p. 19, 11. 4-5. 

' Art de vMfier les dates dee faite hietoriquee, etc., ed. Saint- AUais, 
Paris, 1818-44, v. x, pp. 606-06. 

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has no mark of taransition between it and either contiguous 
chapter, nor is it related in thought, but is a unit of com- 
position, dissimilar in character to all the other chapters of 
De Nugis Curialium. Apparently it was written very soon 
after the news of Jerusalem's fall reached England, that 
is, in October or November, 1187/ Evidently, then, this 
Fragment belongs in its present place neither by virtue of 
its time of composition, nor by logical connection. Such 
conditions discredit the notion that Map himself edited and 
published De Nugis Gvrialium. 


Dist. I, cap. xvi-xxxii, pp. 26-63 

Unlike the first three Fragments, the fourth Fragment 
was not continuously written, but was pieced together from 
a number of chapters which, though composed individually, 
follow a common plan. Map apparently began a sort of 
encyclopedia of religious orders; naturally the several 
articles are not linked together by any transitional devices. 
He wrote up the Carthusians (cap. xvi), the Grandi- 
montensians (cap. xvii), the Templars (a long account, 
now divided by several chapter titles, xviii-xxii, but per- 
fectly continuous), the Hospitalers (cap. xxiii), and the 
Cistercians (cap. xxiv). At this point is inserted a long 
chapter entitled Incidencia magistri Gauteri Mahap de 
monachia (cap. xxv, pp. 40-54), whidi, I believe, was not 
originally intended for De Nugis Curialium, but was an 
independent lampoon on the Cistercians, later taken into 

^Oervaae of Canterbury, ed. Stubbs, RoUs Series, i, pp. 3SS'89, 
says the news of the capture of Jerusalem reached the Pope before his 
death, which befeU October 19, 1187, and "in brevi" the news of 
both events came to England. 

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the De Nugis materials, as was the Epistle of Valerius; it 
does not directly continue cap. xxiv, but is quite properly 
placed where it stands. 

The next chapter (cap. xxvi) recurs to the Grandimon- 
tensian order, referring back explicitly to the former treat- 
ment A similar ^^ recapitulation " of the Carthusians is 
taken up in cap. xxviii. Between these two, there now 
stands a brief article on the order of Sempringham, which 
may have got out of place. If it were removed, we should 
find that with cap. xxvi, Map began to write straight ahead 
on whatever topic occurred, or was suggested to him by 
what he had already written ; for cap. xxvi, begins, " Et hos 
religionis cultus nouitas adiuuenit; est etiam alia, ut su- 
pradictum est, Qrandimontensium secta," ^ and cap. xxviii, 
begins, " Iterum, est alius modus, ut predictum est, in 
Griseuoldano repertus.'^ * 

In this chapter, as Dr. James observes, " there is a 
marked and sudden break. After a single sentence about 
the Carthusians, Map says in effect: ^ After all, all the 
numerous ways of following the simple life in the externals 
seem ineffective. King Henry dresses splendidly, but is 
humble of heart' This mention of Henry II suggests the 
topic of that King's zeal against heretics. Heretics are the 
topic of the next few pages." • The chapters on heretic 
sects (cap. xxix-xxxi) are followed by an anecdote of three 
phenomenally pious hermits, which. Dr. James declares, is 
" dragged in rather awkwardly." ' Truly it is so, but there 
can be no doubt that Map alone is responsible; the con- 
cluding words of the chapter on the Waldenses, "quia 
oaritas perfeota que celestis est foras mittit timorem," ^ 

^ Diro, James, p. 64, U. 10-11. 
' DNO, James, p. 5S, 11. 2-3. 

* DNO, James, p. xrHiL 

• Dif c, James, p. «2, IL lS-17. 

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suggested the hermits to ]!dap^ for he closes their story, and 
the Distinctio, with the same Biblical quotation.® 

In Fragment IV there are several indications of date. 
The whole was composed in the lifetime of Henry II, who 
is directly referred to as alive in three of the chapters.* In 
one chapter Gilbert of Sempringham is aaid to be alive; ^ 
this moves the terminus back a few months, to February 3, 
1189. The stories of the Templars must have been written 
before the fall of Jerusalem, October 2, 1187, since Map, 
commenting on their vow of poverty, declares that " they 
are poor nowhere but at Jerusalem." • In view of Map's 
affectionate r^ard for Gilbert Foliot, I do not believe he 
would have mentioned his name, as he does,' in the year 
1187 without expressing regret at the venerable man's 
death, which came on February 18, 1187. That date, then, 
may be taken for the latest limit of the composition. Cap. 
XXV, mentions the capture and sack of Limoges, which oc- 
curred in June, 1183 ; ^^ but I have already stated my belief 
that this chapter may have been written independently of 
the rest of Fragment IV. If so, we have no early limit for 
the Fragment as a whole. 

' DNO, James, p. 63, 1 .16. 

*DNC, James, p. 55, 11. 9ff.; p. 56, 11. 10 ff., and U. 19 ff.; cap. 
zxyi, zxviii, xrix. 

^ DNc, James, p. 55, 1. 20. 

'DNO, James, p. 30, 1. 15. A few lines below Map writes of the 
loss of territory by the crusaders, but does not mention the loss of 

*DNO, James, p. 39, 1. S. 

''DNO, James, p. 47, 11. 3-10. Judged by the chroniclers. Map 
exaggerates the looting, which was probably small compared with 
that suffered at the hands of the Young Henry and Geffrey of 
Britanny; no other event of Henry's reign, however, can be here 
referred to. See Benedietua, Rolls Series, i, p. 303, Geoffrey of 
Vigeoia in Labb6, Novae Bihliothecae, Paris, 1657, n, pp. 332-37, and 
F. Marvaud, Histoire des vioomiet de Limogee, i, pp. 244-57. 

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WAi-TEB map's de ntjgis cubialium 108 

Fragment V 
Dist n, cap. i-xvi, pp. 64-80 

Distinctio n opens with a formal prologue, in which 
Map contrasts the " victory of the flesh '' with the 
" triumph' of the spirit." He declares that he has written 
heretofore two instances of God's judgment and mercy, 
which have not afforded delight, but rather have proved 
tedious; his readers clamor for fables of the poets and the 
like, but they shall be disappointed, for awhile at least, 
since he proposes to relate first a few miracles. The two 
instances of God's mercy and judgment cannot be identi- 
fied in the preceding Fragment, or the preceding Dis- 
tinctio. For this reason, and because there is absolutely 
no explicit transition, I feel sure that this prologue begins 
a new Fragment.^ 

Map proceeds with two miracles witnessed by himself 
(cap. ii-iii), the second of which was wrought by Peter of 
Tarentaise. Accordingly, Map relates other miracles of 
Peter about which he had only heard (cap. iv-v). The 
last of these was accomplished through confession and 
penance; it suggests another miracle wrought by similar 
means (cap. vi). So far, there is perfect continuity of 
composition. The next chapter (cap. vii), De Luca 
Hungaro, I believe, was inserted somewhat later; for the 
present let me pass over it 

Cap. viii, De indiscreia devotione Walenmum, which 
alone of cap. ii-ix does not relate a miracle, catches up the 
phrase, " zelum secundum scientiam," which Map had used 

^Dr. James writes (p. xxviii) : "The story of three remarkable 
hermits, dragged in rather awkwardly, leads over into Distinctio n, 
whereof the first seven chapters deal with good men of his own time." 
There is nothing, however, to indicate this connection ; formally the 
breach is perfect. 

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in cap. vi,^ and begins thus : " In omni gente, ut alias 
dicitur, qui timet Deum acceptus est ei. Rams in Walen- 
sibus nostris est timor Dei secundum scienlmm/^ * Once 
among the Welsh, Map recalls two miracles of wild Wales 
(cap. ix-x), and then expressly abandons the topic of re- 
ligious wonders for the more enticing field of Celtic legend 
(cap. xi).* Probably soon after this he wrote cap. vii, De 
Luca Hungaro, and inserted it just before the Welsh tales, 
thus breaking the sole, and tenuous, link between that 
series and the preceding. 

In cap. xi, as we have noticed, Map turns to Celtic 
legend and relates the story of Wastin and his fairy wife. 
That leads on through a series of similar tales (cap. xi-xvi), 
all dealing with fantasmata, as Map calls such supernatural 
phenomena. All except cap. xiv, which, being a witch 
story, is quite proper to its context, distinctly refer to eadi 
other, or to the general topic of the series. The chapters 
that follow, however, have not the slightest connection; 
hence I take cap. xvi, as the end of Fragment V. 

For this Fragment we can fix a terminus a quo at some 
time in 1182, when Jean aux blanches mains became Arch- 
bishop of Lyons." In addition to this, there is a reference 
on p. 78 to a story now found in Dist rv, cap. viii.* It is 
likely, therefore, that Fragment V was composed soon 
after that chapter, while Map's recollection was dear. 
Since I hereafter date that chapter (in Fragment XIV) 
about September, 1181, we may infer that the present 
Fragment was written very near its terminus a quo, that 
is, within the year 1182. 

•dwo, James, p. 68, H. 17-18. •dnc, James, p. 71, 11. 4-6. 

^DNO, James, p. 72, 1. 24: "Aliud non miraculum sed portentum 
Walenses refenmt. ** 

■dwc, James, p. 65, L 29: Cf. (jMlia Christiana, n, col. 1180. 
•dno, James, p. 78, L 6: " et ille Britonum de quo saperins." 

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Di&t n, cap. xvii, xviii, xix, pp. 81-85, 85-87, 87-89 

The next three Fragments are the three stories of Gado, 
of Andronicus, and of Gillescop. They are mutually uncon- 
nected, and have no special appropriateness for the position 
they occupy, since they are not related in subject, either to 
each other, or to the adjacent Fragments, and futhermore 
they are longer and more elaborate than the stories of Frag- 
ment V, and of Fragment IX, which follows them. Only 
one of them can be dated; Fragment VII (Andronicus 
Comnenus), was written certainly after 1183, the date of 
the last incident related, and probably after 1185, since 
Lucius III appears to be no longer Pope.* 

Fbaombnt IX 

Dist n, cap. xx-xxx, xxxii, pp. 80-103 

Fragment IX begins abruptly with some observations on 
Welsh character. The composition is unbroken through 
cap. xx-xxiii. The next four chapters (cap. xxiv-xxvii), 
though not linked by transitional phrases, continue smooth- 
ly the train of thought ; all the stories so far are of Wales. 
The last mentioned chapter, however, relates a vampire 
tale, introducing a topic of sufficient interest to divert Map 
from the Welsh; he tells of another vampire on English 
soil (cap. xxviii), then of a demonic manifestation of 
which he had read " in the book of Turpin " (cap. xxix), 
and finally of a harmless ghost (cap. xxx). I pass over 
cap. xxxi, temporarily; cap. xxxii, is a brief epilogue: 

^ DNo» James, p. zxr, note to p. 86, 1. 14 : " usque ad tempora Lueii 
pape, qui Alezandro pape tercio sucoessit.'* 

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106 JAMES HurroN 

Siluam uobis et materiam, non dico fabularum, sed faminum appo- 
no: cultui enim sermonum non intendo, nee si studeam consequar; 
singuli lectores appoeitam niditatem ezculpant, ut eorum industria 
bona facie prodeat in publicam. Venator vester sum, feras nobis 
afferoy fercula facialis. 

This is suitable enough for the short stories of Fragment 
IX ; it is not appropriate to the whole of Dist. u, in which 
we find the more elaborate stories of Gado, Andronicus, and 

In Fragment IX there are two notes of time: Gilbert 
Foliot is said to be " nunc " Bishop of London/ and refer- 
ence is made back to the time of Roger, Bishop of Wor- 
cester.^ Thus the limits are set at August 9, 1179 and 
February 17, 1187. 

Fbagment X 

Dist. n, cap. xxxi, p. 106^ 

Fragment X is the incomplete story of the Senesdial of 
France, which in some way has slipped in after cap. xxx. 
It has no relation to the preceding chapters, but, like the 
lines on omens at the beginning of the story of Earl God- 
win,* attained its position by accident. 

Fbagment XI 

Dist m, pp. 104-37 

Fragment XI comprises the entire third Didinctio, 
which in marked contrast to Dist n appears to have been 
written in a leisurely and careful manner. It has unity 
and balance beyond any other part of De Nugis Curialvum. 

* DNO, James, p. 99, 11. 27-28. 

' DNO, James, p. 100, 1. 19. cf. Bmedictua, i, p. 243, Dioeio, i, p. 432, 
Annates Monastici, i, p. 62. 

* See pp. 89 f ., above. 

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A formal prologue introduces the romance of Sadius and 
Gralo (cap. ii), which holds up to admiration the virtue of 
loyalty in friendship. Over against it is expressly set^ 
the story of the envious disloyalty that disrupted the 
friendship of Parius and Lausus (cap. iii). At the end 
of that chapter Map declares that both those tales are of 
ancient days ; he will now endeavor to please with anecdotes 
of modem events.^ Accordingly he narrates the dire con- 
sequences of Raso's injudicious confidence in his wife (cap. 
iv), and balances against that • the more fortunate outcome 
of Eollo's magnanimous trust (cap. v). Nothing but a 
formal epilogue is lacking to make a perfectly symmetrical 

In the Prologue, Map says that men who are engaged in 
the cares of state often delight to lay aside their burdens, 
and bend to conversation with the humble, refreshing them- 
selves with lights amusing talk; hence he hopes his book 
will entertain.* From this, one would infer that he was 
writing for someone of importance in state affairs, per- 
haps for the King himself. A few lines below, however, 
he refers to a request that he write a book, in almost 
identical terms which he used in Fragment I of his friend 
" Geoffrey's " request.*^ In the next chapter, moreover. 
Map declares that Sadius was, in all respects, " qualem te 
nelles fieri " ; • here he seems to be writing for a young lad 
just approaching manhood. There is no doubt, however, 
that the Prologue goes with the story of Sadius ; for it in- 
troduces a key-note sentence, "Acetum in nitro qui cantat 

^DNO, James, p. 122, H. 20-22. 'dno, James, p. 134, 1. 31. 

' DNC, James, p. 130, 11. 19-20. * dno, James, p. 104, 11. 3-5. 

*DNO, James, p. 104, U. 13-14: ''Scribere iubes posteris exempla 
quibuB nel joctmditas excitetur nel ediflcetnr ethica." Cf. p. 18, 11. 
16-16: " ut recitacio placeat et ad mores tendat instniccio." 

* Dif 0, James, p. 106, IL 8-9. 

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108 JAMBS HnrroN 

carmina cordi pessimo/' that is re-echoed twice in the ro- 
mantic tale that follows/ Perhaps if we knew who Geof- 
frey was, the riddle of these apparently conflicting indica- 
tions would be solved ; as matters stand, I can do nothing- 
There is no other evidence of time in this Fragment. 

Fragment XII 

Dist. IV, cap. i, pp. 138-40 

The so-called Prologvs to Dist. iv constitutes Fragment 
XII. Whether it is in itself incomplete, as Dr. James 
thinks,* or not, this chapter, which seems so like a real pro- 
logue, does not connect with anything else in De Nugis 
Curialium. Map wrote it, as he declares, in that eventful 
month, June, 1183'; * evidently he did not find an oppor- 
tunity to continue his composition at that time. The chap- 
ter owes its position to the compiler. 

Fbaomknt XIII 

Dist. IV, cap. iia, p. 140 — ^p. 142, 1. 12 

Fragment XIII consists of cap. ii, as far as the words, 
" inuident priusquam uideant" (p. 142, 1. 12). I have 
already shown the necessity for dividing this chapter into 
two parts, the first of which is a genuine epilogue, and the 
second an introduction to the Epistle of Valerius.^ The 
epilogue portion, that is, Fragment XIII, was written two 
years after the death of Henry 11,^ — about July, 1191. 

^DNO, James, p. 104, 11. 19-20; p. 106, 1. 1; p. 122, 1. 18. 
^ DNC, James, p. 140, note to 1. 25. 
■dnc, James, p. 139, 11. 2-4, and p. xxv. 
* See pp. 86 f., 91 f., above. 
•dnc, James, p. 141, IL 4-6. 

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Fbaombnt XIV 
Dist IV, cap. iib— xvi, pp. 142-94 

With the lines that introduce the Epistle of Valerius,^ 
b^ns Fragment XIV, which extends throughout the rest 
of Dist IV. The Epistle, Map teUs us, was not originally 
written for De Nugis Curialium/ and it had attained con- 
siderable popularity before he began that work.* When 
he decided to include the earlier composition in his new 
book, he wrote the brief explanatory introduction,* and the 
chapter that follows the Epistle/ in which he berates con- 
temporary critics, especially those who had spoken ill of 
Gilbert Foliot. At the end of the chapter, however. Map 
suddenly declares that now those critics are beginning to 
repent,* and says they deserve to undergo either the penalty 
of Empedocles, or the penance of Eudo. Thus the story of 
Eudo (cap. vi), is dragged in. 

The story of Eudo, in its conclusion, raises the question 
of unusual penances and of salvation under exceptional con- 
ditions ; to illustrate this, Map tells about a monk of Cluny 
who etigaged in military affairs, and died without regular 
confession. The story begins, "Queri eciam potest de salute 
monachi Cluniacensis.^' ^ The next chapter (cap. viii) be- 
gins^ " Quia de mortibus quarum indicia dubia sunt incidit 
oracio " ; ® the story (FUii Mortuae) is not very apt and 
leads the author off to the entirely different subject of mar- 
riages with supernatural beings. Cap. ix-xi continue that 
topic, and cap. xii, which is explicitly linked to cap. xi,* 

' DNO, James, p. 142, IL 12-30. * dnc, James, p. 167, IL 20-30. 

*Ihid. *DNO, James, p. 172, 1. 3. 

•dwo, James, p. 158, IL 7 ff. 'dno, James, p. 173, 1. 29. 

• DifO, James, p. X42, IL 12-30. • dno, James, p. 183, IL 7-8. 

• Ci^. T, pp. 158-59. 

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although not of the same type as the preceding stories^ re- 
counts a monstrous instance of necrophilia that may have 
been, in Map's opinion, analogous to marriage with fairies 
or other demonic creatures. 

The connection of this with the next chapter (cap. xiii), 
De Nicholcu) Pipe homine equoreo, is not so apparent; but 
is nevertheless discernible. As the whirlpool in the Gulf 
of Satalia suggested Charybdis to Map (p. 185, 1. 13), so 
Charybdis suggested Nicolaus Pipe, who was associated 
with the neighboring straits in medieval legend. ^^ Thus 
Map goes from one wonder to another, until he is led away 
to a new invective against the court, which ends: "Arise, 
then, let us go hence, for amid the works of him whom we 
renounced in baptism, we have no leisure to appease, or to 
please, God. Here every man is either ^ marrying a wife, 
or proving yokes of oxen.' Hearken how Salius shunned 
such excuses." ^^ 

Accordingly we have the story of Salius (cap. xiv), 
which repeats at its end, " He did not ^ marry a wife,' or 
* prove oxen ' ^^ ; ^^ and cap. xv, makes from that text a 

strikingly artificial induction: " But Alan Kebrit 

married a wife under unfavorable auspices." ^* The story 
of Alan rambles through the intrigues, murders, and wars 
of two generations, and is at last given a pretense of unity 
by the declaration that all these ills were the fruit of 
avarice, which vice. Map proceeds, was also the seed of 
dissension between Sceva and Ollo,^* whose story follows, 
and ends Dist iv and, with it. Fragment XIV. 

"•See F. Liebrecht, De8 Qervasius von TiXhwry Otia ImpericUia, 
Hannover, 1866, pp. 11-12, H. Ullrich, Beitrage zur Gesohichte der 
Taucheraage, Dresden, 1884, M^luainCf n, pp. 223-30, Schnorr's Archiv 
fur Literaturgeachichie (1886), xiv, pp. 69-102, etc. 

"DNC, James, p. 188, 11. 6-10. "dnc, James, p. 189, 11. 4-7. 

" DNC, James, p. 197, 11. 14-19. 

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ThuB^ throughout this miscellaneous composition, Frag- 
ment XIV, we find a distinct thread of continuity, — con- 
tinuity of such a curious sort that, I am convinced, it must 
be the result of continuous composition under the guidance 
of Walter Map's vagrant and unfettered fancy; I would 
not willingly think that any man had taken pains to put 
this patchwork together from independently written chap- 
ters. Since it appears that cap. xi was written in Septem- 
ber, 1181,** we may, therefore, take this as the date of com- 
position for the entire Fragment XIV. 

Fragment XV 
Dist V, cap. i-ii, pp. 203-06 

Fragment XV consists of the prologue to Dist v and the 
anecdotes of Appollonides in cap. ii. In the prologue. Map 
declares that the heroes of ancient days live in our memory 
by virtue of the epics which celebrate their deeds, while 
modem heroes are rewarded only with oblivion. Perhaps 
our times, he says, have something not Unworthy of the 
buskin of Sophocles; but authors are not honored, and 
poetry declines. Caesar survives in the praises of Lucan, 
Aeneas in those of Maro; the divine nobility of Charle- 
magnes and Pepins is celebrated only in the vulgar 
rhythms of mimes; and of present Caesars no one sings 
at alL^ 

To supply the lack, Map apparently determined to show 
by examples that there was epic material in the twelfth 
century, if one would only look for it The chapter on 
"Appollonides*^ affords a curious indication of the plan 

'^DNC, JameSy p. 183, U. 2-5: "et nunc hodie a Romania electuB est 
Lucius papa, etc"; hodie must, of course, refer to the arrival of 
the news. The election was on September 1, 1181. 

' PNC, James, p. 203. 

Digitized by 



originally conceived for presenting these stories of his con- 
temporaries. Appollonides is called a " King in the western 
parts," who was known and hated by Walter Map.* 
Obviously the name is fictitious; doubtless some Welsh 
chief is meant, since the cattle-raid is more consonant with 
the martial adventures of Wales than of any other nation 
with whose rulers Map was acquainted well enough to feel 
personal hatred.' At the end of the first anecdote, Map 
exclaims : " Hoc ercle dictum et factum stilo dignum 
Homeri censeo, et me tam el^anti materia indignum." * 
Similar references to the theme of the prologue of this 
Fragment are foimd also in Fragment XVIII.** 

Feagment XVI 

Dist. V, cap. iiia, p. 206, 1. 10— p. 207, L 3 

Fragment XVI consists of the lines on the omens of the 
several captures of Jerusalem, which have been included 
erroneously in cap. iii of Dist v. These lines were pwA- 
ebly written soon after the fall of Jerusalem, but long 
enough thereafter for the memorial couplet * on that year 
to become current, let us say, early in 1188. 

'DKC, James, p. 205, 1. 4, p. 206, 1. 1. 

* Dr. James, p. 269, suggests that Appollonides is " possibly Henry 
n, " or some other "King (of England or France) contemporary 
with Map." The reviewer in the Athenaeum (February 16, 1916, 
p. 116) prefers William the Lion, or the Count of Flanders; and 
Dr. Webb, in the Claaaical Review (xxix, pp. 121-23), prefers Richard 
I. The difficulty with all these is in Map's words, "Hunc r^gem 
uidi et noui et odi," and in the cattle-driving. 

* DNC, James, p. 205, 11. 19-20. 

*DNC, James, p. 226, 11. 30 ff.; p. 220, 11. 24-26. 

^ DNC, James, p. 206, U. 16-16. 

Digitized by 



Fragment XVII 

Dist. V, cap. iiib-iv, pp. 207-18 

Fragment XVII is the story of Earl Gbdwin. It was 
probably not written as a part of Map's celebration of 
modem heroes ; for elsewhere Map restricts modemitas to 
the twelfth century/ It will be noticed, moreover, that in 
Fragment XV Map distinguishes between the fate of the 
great men of the earlier middle ages, and of those of his 
own time: Aeneas had his Vergil, Caesar his Lucan, 
Charlemagne a nameless mime, but Henry II has no one 
to sing his praise. In Fragment XVIII, the incidents 
related of Henry I, Louis VI, Louis VII, Theobald of 
Blois, and others, are such as Map might have witnessed 
himself, or have heard from someone who had witnessed 
them. The story of Earl Godwin in this Fragment XVII, 
however, is made up from a mass of tradition that had 
assumed a thoroughly romantic character. It is, never- 
theless, not improbable that Map put this Fragment (and 
also Fragment XIX) together with the modem heroes 
Fragments after he had lost his first enthusiasm for 
demonstrating the epic quality of twelfth-century life. 

Fragment XVIII 

Dist V, cap. V, pp. 218-32 

Fragment XVIII consists of the series of anecdotes 
chiefly about Henry I, Louis VI, and Louis VII which are 
found in Dist. v, cap. v. The composition is continuous, 
and the entire chapter seems to have been written in one 

' DT70, James, p. 59, 11. 17-19 : " Nostra dico tempora, modemitatem 
banc, bonim ecilicet centum amiomm curriculum, cuius adhuo nunc 
ultime partes extant." 


Digitized by 



piece. There are in it two references to the theme of the 
prologue of Fragment XV; on page 220, lines 24-26, 
" Meliori stilo plurimoque sermone dignus esset rex iste ; 
sed de modemis est, nee ei fecit aiictoritatem antiquitas " ; 
and on pages 226-27, " Hec forte frivola sunt et magnis 
inepta paginis, sed meis satis apta scedulis, mihique uiden- 
tur stilo meo maiora," By reason of these indications, I 
feel sure that Fragments XV and XVIII were written at 
ahout the same time, as a part of a single attempt to 
celebrate contemporary heroes. This Fragment was clearly 
written during the reign of Henry II ; ^ it cannot be dated 
more precisely than that 

Fragment XIX 

Dist. Y, cap. vi, pp. 232-48 

Fragment XIX consists of the sixth chapter of Dist. v, 
which, I feel sure, was written at one time, after the death 
of Henry II, probably as late as the year 1193.* It is thus 

^DNOy James, p. 218, 11. 12-13: ^'Henricus rex Anglie, pater matris 
eius Henrici qui nunc regnat"; cf. p. 219, 1. 3, p. 232, 11. 9-10 (Henry 
n is meant, and must be alive, or he would not be mentioned thus 

*DNO, James, p. 237, IL 11-12; Map's statement that Henry n 
reigned 36 years is incorrect, but the important point is that Henry 
was dead, dno, p. 238, 11. 17-21, Geoffrey now Archbishop of York, 
i. e. 1191, or later; the great quarrel with his canons came in 1193, cf. 
Roger de Hoveden, Rolls Series, i, pp. 222-31. Difc, p. 241, 11. 9-14, 
assassination of Conrad de Montferrat (April 28, 1192, cf. Radulphua 
de Diceto, n, p. 104), and the accusations against Richard Cceur de 
Lion. DNO, p. 241, 11. 15 ff. ; Dr. James, p. xsvi, declares, " Henry n 
seems to be still living '': but I should say that " fuit ** in 1. Id sets 
the time of composition after Henry's death, the subsequent present 
tenses being pictorial, dno, p. 246, 11. 18 ff.; Dr. James p. xxvi, 
thinks Greoffrey is " perhaps not yet Archbishop " ; but, p. 246, 1. 20, 
"ut est pretactum" refers back to p. 238, where he was called 

Digitized by 



the latest of all the compositions which compose De Nugis 
Curialium. In tone it differs markedly from the pre- 
ceding Fragment; for, so far from eulogizing contemporary 
royalty, there is scarcely one royal personage imscathed in 
this chapter. William Rufus is not unfairly termed 
" regnm pessimus " ; ^ Stephen is ^* industria preclarus, ad 
cetera fere idiota,*' * Henry IT has his faults plainly set 
down, along with his virtues ; * and his favorite son, 
(Jeoffrey fitz Eoy, is the object of the most insulting con- 
tempt.' Matilda is characterized as " bonorum in medio 
pessima," • and Eleanor has old scandals rudely revived.'' 
Only Henry I appears to have been admired thoroughly by 
Walter Map,® though Henry II, despite his faults, is de- 
clared to have been " in all respects lovable." • When Map 
wrote this Fragment, he had forgotten the purpose that 
animated him in writing Fragments XV and XV III. 

Fragment XX 

Dist. V, cap. vii, pp. 248-55 

Fragment XX is the so-called Recapitulacio principii 
huius libri, which I have already ^ declared to be probably 
a first draft of the introductory composition of De Nugis, 
Except for the title there is no explicit reference to Frag- 
ment I, which we should expect if this were really a recapi- 
tulation. It is clear that Fragment XX was written before 
the death of Henry II,' therefore before Fragments XIII 

' DNO» James, p. 232, L 12. * dko, James, p. 238, 1. 28. 

' DNC, James, p. 236, L 25. 'dno, James, p. 237, IL 6-8. 

* Difc, James, p. 241, 11. 15 ff. * dnc, James, pp. 234-36. 

* DNO, James, pp. 238, 246-48. * dnc, James, p. 241, 1. 25. 
^ See pp. 87 f., abore. 

'DNO, James, pp. 248-49, Map still a courtier; so also, p. 251, L 5; 
pp. 253-55, Henry n is referred to repeatedly in the present tense. 

Digitized by 



and XIX; hence this was certainly not Map's finishing 
touch, and if Fragment XIII (" Epilogus") is really an 
epilogue to De Nugis as a whole, it supplants the earlier 
written Fragment XX. This Fragment, it appears 
further, was written after the appointment of Ranulf de 
Glanville as Chief Justice, which occurred about April, 

These twenty Fragments, as we have seen, vary greatly 
in length and in character. Fragments X and XVI con- 
sist merely of a few lines each, with which Map began a 
chapter that he presumably never completed. Fragments 
I, XVIII, XIX, and probably XIV, are continuous, but 
miscellaneous, compositions of some length, and Fragment 
XI is a well-balanced Distindio in its entirety. The other 
Fragments range between these extremes. 

In absence of any final arrangement by the author, all 
that we can do further is to determine, as far as possible, 
the order in which the several Fragments were composed, 
and so shape our conception of how the work developed. 
From what has been noticed of the casual manner in which 
Map wanders from one topic to another even while he is 
writing straight ahead, it is clear that he was not restrained 
by a definite plan; he wrote willingly upon whatever oc- 
curred to his mind, careless of the drift of his discourse. 
Indeed he shows a marked tendency to repeat a phrase, or 
a notion, that catches his fancy, and often makes such a 
slight matter the starting point of a new train of thought. 
Recurrences of phrases and ideas may, then, assist us in 
grouping together some of the larger Fragments, and so, 
perhaps, enable us to fix their dates more precisely. 

•dno, James, p. 263, 1. 7; cf. Roger de Hoveden, n, p. 215, R. W. 
Eyton, Court, Hotuehold and Itinerary of King Eenry n, p. 231. 

Digitized by 



The earliest date of oomposition that has been ^cactly 
determined is September, 1181, when, I believe, the whole 
of Fragment XIV was written.* It is probable, however, 
that Fragment I, whose time limits are August 10, 1180, 
and December 15, 1184, was actually written first; it is 
such a formal introduction as an author would naturally 
b^in with, and, since I have explained the misleading 
indication of late composition in the brief interpolation, 
there is nothing to forbid our believing Fragment I the 
earliest thing written specifically for De Nugis Curidlivm. 
Its earlier time limit, August 10, 1180, prevents us from 
putting it long before Fragment XIV. 

If, moreover, we assume that Fragments I and XIV 
were both written at about the same time, we find confirma- 
tion for that hypothesis. The conceit that Herla's court 
• obtained rest by giving over the curse of ceaseless wander- 
ing to the court of Henry II is briefly stated in Fragment 
I (p. 16, 11. 25-30), and elaborated in Fragment XIV (p. 
186, U. 17-19, 27 ff.).*' Likewise Fragment XIV contains 
an elaboration of the tribute to Gilbert Foliot in Fragment 
I (p. 18, U. 20-27, cf. p. 158, 1. 28— p. 159, 1. 19), <^ and in 
the same connection in both Fragments Map expresses the 
same opinion of contemporary judgment, and humorously 
declines to purchase fame by dying (p. 18, IL 10-13, p. 158, 
11. 10-11).^ Of less significance, but possibly worth adding, 
a quotation from Ovid, " res est ingeniosa dare,'' is found 

*Here and throughout the following discussion, the evidence for 
the dating may be readily ascertained by reference to my analysis of 
the Fragment in the preceding pages; hence I spare repetition in 

* For the convenience of readers who happen to have only the old 
edition of De NugU Curi<Uium, I will give references in footnotes to 
Wright. DNC, Wright, p. 17, 11. 10-15, p. 180, IL 9-11, 18 ff. 

•dnc, Wright, p. 19, IL 32 ff., p. 163, 11. 19 ff. 

'DNO, Wright, p. 19, U. 24-26, p. 163, 11. 1-2. 

Digitized by 


118 JAMX& hutton 

in both these Fragments^ but not elsewhere in De Nugis 
(p. 6, L 23, p. 202, 1. 13)/ Taken together, these echoes 
of Fragment I in Fragment XIV furnish some ground for 
thinking that the latter was written while the fancies of the 
former still possessed the author's mind. 

I am inclined even to surmise that Fragment XIV was 
written directly after the completion of Fragment I. The 
stories of King Herla end of the King of Portugal (Dist i, 
cap. xi-xii) both proceed out of protestations that the author 
is in no position to write a book ; he protests, and then says, 
in effect: " But if you insist, I will add this," whereupon 
we get another chapter. In the same manner the chapter 
on the King of Portugal ends with a repetition of Map's 
protestations, which concludes with the words, " Sed quo 
mihi portus, qui vix vaco viuere? " ^ Fragment XIV be- 
gins : " Incidentia vero si notare fas est, incidit." ** 
Something once preceded this opening; it was not Frag- 
ment XIII, for that was not written until 1191. In the 
nature of things we can only surmise; but I surmise that 
Fragment XIV was written as a sequel to Fragment I. 
Hence I date both Fragments about September, lluo. 

I find it convenient to treat Fragments IV and V to- 
gether, since each contains repetitions from the other and 
from Fragments I and XIV. Fragment V has a termirms 
a quo at some time in the year 1182. There is no certain 
termimis a quo for Fragment IV, since Dist^ i, cap. xxv, 
which was written after June, 1183, may very probably 
have been inserted in the already completed Fragment, as 
I have already admitted. 

Let us consider the repetitions. In Fragment I and in 
Fragment V there is a description of Pan which is dearly 

•dno, Wright, p. 8, L 20, p. 194, 1. 21. 

•dnc, James, p. 19, IL 1-2, Wright, p. 20, 11. 12-13. 

"DNO, Jamea, p. 142, 11. 12-13, Wright, p. 142, U. 910. 

Digitized by 



made up of reminiscences from the comment of Servius on 
the second eclogue of Vergil (p, 13, 11. 17-20, p. 79, 11. 28 
ff.).^^ In Fragment I and in Fragment IV, there is, in 
different context, but in the same incorrectly remembered 
form, a phrase taken from Porphyrius's definition of geniLS 
(p. 1, IL 13-14, p. 41, L 30)." In the same Fragments I 
and IV Map advances the notion that hypocrites are al- 
ways sad, and the godly joyous (p. 2, 1. 11, p. 63, 1. 15).** 

There are in Fragments IV and V more frequent echoes 
of Fragment XIV, as is natural if that was written later 
than Fragment I. The phrase, "zelum secundum 
scientiam," was persistently in Map's mind for awhile. It 
is found in Fragment XIV (p. 171, U. 22-23), and in 
Fragment V (p. 68, IL 17-18), which also has, *- timer 
Domini secundum scientiam" (p. 71, 11. 5-6); and in 
Fragment IV, I suspect. Map was thinking of it when he 
wrote, "nescio quo zelo ductis" (p. 61, L 19)." The 
phrase is not found again in the later Fragments. Further- 
more, in Fragment V Map refers back to a story he had 
related in Fragment XIV (p. 78, 1. 5, p. 173, 11. 29 ff.) ; " 

"DNO, Wrigbt, p. 16, IL 2-6, p. 84, IL 3-6. Servius on Vergil, EcL 
n, 31; ''Nam Pan deus est msticus in naturae similitudinem 
formatus, unde et Pan dictus est, id est omne: habet enim comua in 
radionim solis et comuum lunae similitudinem; rubet eius facies ad 
aetheris imitationem; in pectore nebridem habet stellatam ad 
stellarum imaginem; pars eius inferior hispida est propter arbores, 
virgulta, feras; caprinos pedes habet, ut ostendat terrae soliditatem, 
etc." This is quoted by medieval mythologists, cf. A. Mai, OUuMioi 
Auctorea e Vatioama Oodioihua, in, pp. 46, 102. For tracing the 
source of Map's description, I am indebted to Dr. James. 

"dno, Wright, p. 2, 11. 1-2, p. 46, IL 10-11. See Wright's note on 
p. 1, in which he shows how Map has confused two sentences in 
Boethius's translation of Porphyrius. 

-DNO, Wright, p. 3, 1. 1, p. 67, L 12. 

"DNC, Wright, p. 165, 11. 34 ff., p. 72, 11. 20-21, p. 75, L 12, p. 65, 
1. 26. 

" DWC, Wright, p. 82, U. 12-13, p. 168, 11. 1-2. 

Digitized by 


120 JAMES HmtoK 

this is the only instance in De Nugis Curialium of a refer- 
ence from one Fragment to another, and, I believe, it in- 
dicates that Fragment V was written shortly after Frag- 
ment XIV. In Fragment V is elaborated a story (Edric 
Wilde) which had been sunmiarized in Fragment XIV 
(pp. 75-77, 176) ; " and in the same Fragments Map dis- 
plays interest in the theological explanation of fairies and 
other such creatures (p. 80, 11. 2-5, p. 161, IL 20 ff.)." In 
Fragments IV and XIV Map writes in similar vein con- 
cerning each age's preference for some age before it (p. 61, 
IL 19 ff, p. 158, 11. 21 ff ) ; but this is a commonplace. 

It is not likely, however, that all these repetitions would 
be found unless these Fragments were written within a 
single period, when the author's mind was, so to speak, in 
one phase. I will not attempt to say whether Fragment IV 
or Fragment V is earlier; both were probably written in 
1182, and Dist i, cap. xxv, was interpolated doubtless in 
1183*. I append a table of the earliest Fragments of De 
Nugis Curialium: 

Frag. Date. Ck>iitentB. Dist Cap. Pag. 

XX 1181 First draft of intro- v vU 248-65 

I 1181 Sept. on. Introduction; King i i-xii 1-10 

Herla; King of 

XIV 1181 Sept. on. Valerius to Ruf- iv iib-xvl 142-202 

finus; Eudo ; 

Gluniac monk; 

Filii Mortuae; 

Henno cum Den- 

tibus; Edric 

Wilde; Gerbert; 

Satalia legend; 

Nicolaus Pipe and 

Herlething; Sa- 


Sceva and Olio. 

"DNC, Wright, pp. 79-82, 170. 

"DNc, Wright, p. 84, 11. 7-9, p. 166, 11. 3 ff. 

Digitized by 



Frmg. Date. Ck>iitent8. Dist. Cap. Pag. 

IV 1182 Monastic Orders; i xvi-xxxii 25-63 

Heretic Sects; 

Three Hermits. 
▼ 1182 Miracles; Wastin; n i-xvi 64-80 

Edric Wilde; 

Filii Mortuae; 

Witch; Paul and 

Antony; Touma- 
«^2^^ ment of LouYain. 

•sxr* 1183 June Young King's iv i 138-40 


Some of the remaining Fragments can be grouped by 
reason of significant recurrences of phrases or ideas. I 
have already called attention to references in Fragment 
XVIII to the theme of the prologue to Fragment XV; ^' 
both of these were written in honor of modem heroes, but 
neither can be dated more precisely than before July, 

In both Fragments IX and XVII Map makes a 
curiously nice distinction between probitas and bonitas in 
words so similar that , I am satisfied, one passage must be 
definitely a repetition of the other.^* Fragment XVII is 
undated; but Fragment IX was written between 1179 and 

Especially interesting are the repetitions from Frag- 
ment XI in Fragment XIII (" Epilogus "). In the pro- 

"See p. 114, above. 

^ DNO, James, p. 89 : " C?ompatriotae nostri Walenses, cum omnino 
sint infideles ad omnes tam ad inuicem quam ad alios, probi tamen 
sunt, non dico virtute boni vel viribus precipui, sed aoerbitate in- 
pugnandi et acredine resistendi, sola scilicet improbitate probi." 
pp. 208-09: "Non dico virum bonum, sed probum et improbum. 
Gtoerositatis est filia bonitas, cuius habere summam dat sapiencia; 
probitas autem tam est boni quam maU. Bonitas non nisi bonum, 
probitas utrumque facit. Hunc autem non dico bonum, quia de- 
generem scio, sed probum, quia strenuus in agendis, audaz in 
periculis, in casus involans, etc." dno, Wright, pp. 94, 200. 

Digitized by 



logue of Dist. ni Map writes : " Non enim fori lites aut 
placitx)rum attempto seria; teatrura et arenam incolo 
nudus pugil et inermis, quern in armatos obtrectancium 
cuneos talem ultro misisti: teatrum tamen hoc et banc 
arenam si Cato visitauerit aut Scipio uel uterque, vcniam 
spero dum non distriete iudicent" ^^ In Fragment XIII, 
tbe so-called Epilogus, after declaring tbat in sucb times 
of anarcby as tbos© following Henry II's deatb, tbe laws 
of art are tbemselves suspended, Map writes, " Quidlibet 

ut libet agimus Redeat Cato id agetur quod 

agitur," ^^ and a little later, " Ideo tutus et inermis ag- 
gredior quod trepidabam." ** 

And, as tbese sentences echo tbose quoted from tbe pro- 
logue^ so Map's next words ecbo another passage in Dist 
III. In the Epilogus, be proceeds : " Tales nunc inueniat 
libellus lectores ; bii me poetam f acient, sed non sic impii 
legunt, non sic, et ideo misellum hunc uentilabunt, ut 
puluerem; oderunt enim antequam audierint^ uilipendent 
antequam appendant, inuident priusquam uideant/* *■ In 
Fragment XI (Dist iii), at tbe end of tbe story of Parius 
and Lausus, Map exhorts bis readers to extract wisdom 
from his stories as bees do honey from both sweet and 
bitter flowers ; then, with a revulsion of feeling, he bursts 
forth, "Non sic impii, non sic, sed odenmt antequam 
audierint, vilipendunt antequam appendant, ut sicut in 
sordibus sunt sordescant adhuc/' ** 

Tbese sentences of the EpUogtis seem so much like con- 
scious references to tbose in Dist. ni that one is tempted 
to infer tbat Fragment XIII (Epilogvs) was designed for 
the epilogue to tbat Distinctio (Fragment XI), Against 

••dwo, James, p. 104. 11. 8-12; Wright, p. 107, IL 6-10. 
"DNC, James, p. 141, 11. 26-28; Wright, p. 141, 11. 27-30. 
"DNO, James, p. 142, 1. 8; Wright, p. 142, 1. 6. 
"DNC, James, p. 142, IL 9-12; Wright, p. 142, IL 5-9. 
■•dwo, Jam^, p. 130, 11. 16-18; Wright, p. 131, 11. 1-2. 

Digitized by 




that inference, however, it must be urged that Dist ni is 
ahnost the only Fragment of De Nugis Curialiwm that is 
not lawlesalj written ; it is hard to conceive Map as writing 
in r^ard to that particular composition, " Hunc • • . . 
libelliun raptim annotaui scedulis." ^' Yet it may be noted 
that Map writes deprecatingly in the Prologus to Dist. 
in.** One thing is certain : the Epilogus was written at 
least two years after the latest preceding Fragment of De 
Nugis}'' Whether it was intended for an epilogue to the 
whole book, or merely to Dist ni^ I do not think one can 
pronounce with certainty. 

I append a second table, arranging in a tentative chro- 
nological order all the Fragments that can be dated 



Dist. Cap. 


XX 1181 

V vU 

First draft of intro- 


1181 Sept. on. 

I i-xii 

Introduction ; King 
Her la; King of 


1181 Sept on. 

IV iib-xvi 

Valerius to RuflSnus; 
Eudo; Cluniac 
monk; Filii 
Mortuae; Henno; 
Edric; Gerbert; 
Satalia; Nicolaus 

Pipe; Herlething; 
Sceva and Olio. 



1 xvi-XTxii, 

Monastic orders, here- 
tics; three hermits. 



U i-xvi 

Miracles; Wastin; 
Edric; PiUl 
Mortuae; Witch; 
Paul and Antony; 


Fames, p. 140, 1. 

27; Wright, p. 140, 


" DHO, 1 


"DNO, J 

Fames, p. 104; Wright, p. 107. 

v^ j^^i^-^. « ▲!.:_ isxAi. 

oifO, James (and Wright), pp. 140-41: he declares ''this little 

Digitized by VjOOQ iC 










1183 June 



Young King's Death. 


after 1185 



Andronicus Comnenus. 


before 1187 



Welsh Tfeles; Vam- 
pires, etc. 

xvn J 

before 1187 


Earl Godwin. 


1187 Oct. 



Fall of Jerusalem. 





Omens of captures of 

XV "^ 

before 1189 July 



Modem Heroes Pro- 
logue; Appollonides. 


before 1189 July 



Henry i, Louis vi, etc. 

XI "> 

before 1189 July 



Romantic Tales of 
Sodius and Galo,etc. 

xm J 

about 1191 July 








English Kings. 

Fragments ii, vi, viii^ and x, all very short, cannot be 
dated even approximately. 

In thus arranging these Fragments, I am fully aware 
of the elements of uncertainty, and I do not insist on ac- 
ceptance of my table in detail. The matter of prime im- 
portance is that De Nugis Curialium is not a finished work. 
I am confident that Fragments I, IV, V, XIV, and XX, 
which comprise nearly three-fifths of the book, are the 
earliest written, and date from the end of 1181 and from 
1182, and that the other Fragments were written and 
compiled at intervals thereafter, and, finally, that about 
1193 Map wrote the last Fragment, and abandoned, for 
the last time, all intention of welding his materials into a 
coherent work. 

Some of the Fragments were circulated among Map's 
friends before, and doubtless after, he ceased writing on 
De Nugis.^^ Probably some were lost in that way; and 

book " was written in Henry n's reign, and that nou> he has mourned 
Henry's death two years. 

" DNO, James, p. 64 : " Duo premisi Dei misericordiam et iudicium 
continencia, que non solum non delectant, sed tediosa simt, et ex- 

Digitized by 



the inchoate book never attained completion, was never 
given to the world by its author. By some fortunate 
chance, however, the Fragments which we have, passed into 
hands that did not destroy them, but gave them a rude ar- 
rangement, and suffered this edited form to be copied. 

The opinion, that Map never published De Nv^is 
Curialvam, is warranted by more than the mere probability 
that Map would not have consented to the publication of 
his work in such an unfinished state. There is no affirma- 
tive evidence that De Nugis Curialium was known to 
medieval men of letters, that is, none except the existence 
of our unique manuscript So far as I know, Liebrecht 
alone has pronounced De Nugis the source of a later 
medieval tale, — the first novella of Ser Giovanni Fioren- 
tino's II Pecorone; and he was, quite excusably, mistaken 
in that.** 

De Nugis is not mentioned by men who might have been 
expected to show knowledge of it. For example, Map re- 
lates a conversation he had with Louis le Jeune ; Giraldus 
Cambrensis reports the bon mot uttered by Louis on that 
occasion, but does not mention Map, or his book, as au- 
thority for the story.'* Neither does he refer to De Nugis 
elsewhere, although he tells a number of the same anecdotes 
as are found therein. '^ Furthermore, the words which 

pectanttir aicut expetuntur fabule poetamm, uel eamm simie; " 
Wright, p. 68. These words plainly show that fragments of De Nugit 
were submitted to friends while the book was in preparation. Frag- 
m^its such as the Valerius, the Incidenoia de MotKichia, and possibly 
aU Dist. m were not originally intended for De Nuffie, and circulated 
independently perhaps. 

''Felix Liebrecht, Zur Volkehunde, Heilbronn, 1879, pp. 43-45. I 
hope soon to show that the true source of Ser Giovanni's novella is in 
the Oemma Eooleeiaetioa (n, xii) of Giraldus. 

"'DNO, James, p. 225; cf. Giraldus Cambrensis, De Inetruetione 
Prituripum, iii, 30. 

"^ 8ee Dr. James's marginal references to Giraldus. 

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Giraldus declares Map spoke to him, "Multa, magister 
Giralde, scripsistis, et multum adhuc scribitis; et nos multa 
diximus. Vos scripta dedistis, et nos verba," if they do 
not prove, at least give ground for suspecting that Map 
was author of no published work Of the private trifles 
written by Map for the entertainment of his friends, one, 
the Epistle of Valerius, attained great popularity. 

This epistle, however, was almost never connected with 
Map's name, as it must have been if De Nugis had been 
published. Nicholas Trivet, who was bom about a half 
century after Map's death, and studied and taught at Ox- 
ford,'* knew Map well enough by reputation to insert into 
a mention of him, which he borrowed from Diceto, the 
additional words, " de quo multa referunter jocunda " ; ^' 
and this same Trivet wrote a commentary on the Epistle 
of Valerius, in which he shows complete ignorance that 
Valerius was Walter Map.'* 

Dr. James is unable to find any traces of the use of De 
Nugis in contemporary or later medieval writers, and de- 
clares : " No English medieval library catalogue contains 
an entry identifiable with the de Nugis. Neither Leland 
nor Bale had ever seen it In short, its appearance in 1601 
in the Bodleian Library seems to have been practically its 
first introduction to anything that could be called a 

^Did, Nafl Biog,, voL Lvn, pp. 234-36. 

^Annalea 9ex regum Angliae, ed. ThoB. Hog (Eng. Hist. Soc. 1845), 
p. 157. On sources, cf. Gross, Bibliography of EngUih Hiiiory, 
p. 305. 

** DNo, James, pp. zxzv ff. 

"dno, James, pp. ziii-xiy. In regard to Dr. James's citations: 
Epistle 14 of Peter of Blois was doubtless written about 1176, soon 
after Peter left the court to become Archdeacon of Bath; Map's 
passage, as I have shown, was not wTitten until 1181, and was, I 
believe, suggested by Peter's letter '' to his friends, the clerks of the 

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WAI.TEB map's de nugis cijbialium 127 

So much for the outcome of Map's labors. We may now 
turn to a brief consideration of his original plan, or in- 
tention. Certainly he b^an to write at the request of one, 
Geoffrey/* whose identity is at present unguessed. Wright 
declared that this Geoffrey requested Map "to write a 
poem, the subject of which was to be, ' The sayings and 
doings which had not yet been committed to writing/ Mapes 
in answer proceeds to compile a work in prose, in which his 
object seems to have been to show that it was impossible 
for anyone involved in the troubles of the court to apply 
himself to poetry with success ; but as he proceeds he seems 
to have lost sight of his primary object, and goes on string- 
ing together stories and legends which have no intimate 
connection with the general subject." '^ 

I think Wright misinterprets both the request of Geoffrey 
and the intention of Map. The request is stated as follows : 
" Et me, karissime mi Galfride, curialem, (non dice face- 
turn, — Puer sum, et loqui nescio, — sed dice,) in hac si vere 
descripta curia religatum et ad banc relegatum hinc 
phUosophari tubes, qui me Tantalum huius infemi fateor? 
Quomodo possum propinare qui sicio ? Quiete mentis est 
et ad unum coUecte poetarL Totam volunt et tutam cum 
asfliduitate residenciam poete; et non prodest optimus cor- 
poris et rerum status, si non fuerit interna pace tranquillus 
animus: unde nee minus a me poscis miraculum, hino 
scilicet hominem ydiotam et imperitum scrihere, quam si 
ab alterius Nabogodonosor fomace nouos pueros cantare 
iubeas."'® There is here no discrimination between 
poetari, phUosophari, and scribere; they are, as Dr. James 

King's chapel." Higden's reference is pretty surely to (Jeoflfrey of 
Monmouth's Walter, Archdeacon of Oxford; its position in Higden's 
list indicates as much. 

"DNo, James, p. 13, 11. 1-11. 

" DNo, Wright, p. X. " DNO, James, p. 13. 

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declares, " synonymous and merely signify literary com- 
position." ■• 

This is evident from Map's use of the words, poeta and 
poetari, elsewhere in De Nugis Curialium. A few pages 
later, still addressing Greoffrey, Map writes : " Et tu . . . 
inter has precipis poetari discordias ? Videris me calcari- 
bus urgere Balaam quibus in uerba coegit asinam. Quibus 
enim aliis possit quispiam induci stimulis in poesimf. . . . 
Fiam tamen asinus per te, quod iubes." *® There is no 
indication that Map is conscious of obeying Geoffrey only 
in part 

Later, when we cannot be sure that Map is addressing 
Gteoflfrey, he writes : " Scribere iubes posteris exempla 
quibus uel iocimditas excitetur uel edificetur ethica. Licet 
impossibile mihi sit hoc mandatum, quod pauper poeta 
nescit antra muaarum, etc." *^ Shortly thereafter. Map 
urges his readers to obtain moral benefit from his stories, 
adding: "Amator sapiencie quemlibet in aliquo poetam 
approbat, et ab onmi pagina quam baiulauerit recedit doc- 
cior." ** Still again, we read of Chaerulus, Cluvienus, 
Bavius, and Maevius, and then: "Talium tempera sunt 
poetarum .... Tales nunc inueniat libellus lectores ; hii 
me poetam facient." *' And earlier in the book. Map had 
written : " Video me iam illis factum in detraccionem, et 
f abulam, ut Oluuieno me comparent poete, creta et carbone 
use, insipido et ydiote scriptori. Hie ego sum certe; . . . 
ineptum me faieor et insvlswm poetam/' ** In all these 
places. Map applies the term poeta to himself as author of 
this prose; it was a convention with him to assume the 
need of inspiration of the Muses before he could write his 

"• DNC, James, p. xxiv. *■ dno, James, p. 130. 

•• DNO, James, pp. 17-18. • dno, James, p. 142. 

^ DNO, James, p. 104. *^ dno, James, p. 53. 

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entertaining and moral tales, — a literary affectation, and 
nothing more. Geoffrey doubtless asked Map, not for a 
poem, but merely for a book. 

I think that Wright was wrong also in crediting Map 
with the design of writing a book of stories all of which 
were to help prove that the court was no place for a "poet" 
Map must have known that continued repetitions of his 
protests would be inexpressibly tiresome; it is unjust to 
him to suppose otherwise. His own statement of his pur- 
pose is clear enough: "Materiam mihi tam copiosam 
eligis, ut nullo possit opere superari, nullis equari labori- 
bus; dicta scUicet et facta que nondum littere tradita sunt; 
quecunque didici conspeccius habere miraculum ut recitacio 
placeat et ad mores tendat instruccio. Meum'autem inde 
propositum est nichil noui cudere, nichil falsitatis inferre; 
sed quecumque scio ex uisu uel credo ex auditu pro uiribus 
explicare." " Map here consents to Geoffrey's request, and 
accepts the comprehensive subject proposed. Entertain- 
ment and moral instruction are his aim, — miscere utile 
dulci; his material is his own observation and experience: 

Quicquid agunt homines, votmn, timor, ira, voluptas, 
Gaudia, discurBus, nostri farrago libelli. 

The title De Nugis CuriaUum is not inappropriate for 
such a work. The court of Henry II was a little world ; a 
courtier could not escape contact with human life in count- 
less phases. All that Map writes, he writes from the obser- 
vation of one who, before aU else, was a courtier of the 
English King. Any other member of the royal household 
with mind equally alert, with eyes equally quick to see, 
and ears to hear, might have stored his memory with the 
same impressions of the kaleidoscopic world. 

Furthermore, the book is written for courtiers, if it is 

* DNO, James, p. 18. 

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not exclusively about them. The prologue to Dist. ni is 
addressed to one, Greoffrey, Henry II, or another, who is 
engaged in the affairs of state.*® In the Epilogus (Dist iv, 
cap. ii). Map declares that King Henry himself had urged 
him to write " this little book." *^ In the prologue to Dist 
Y, he addresses someone other than the King, but of suffi- 
cient importance to be named together with him.*** These 
various addresses merely show that a number of friends at 
various times pressed Map to take up again the work which 
he was known to have begun ; they may be held to afford 
further proof that he did not finish, since, we may feel 
sure, he would in that case have given the King first honor 
of inspiring its composition, as he does in the Epilogue, 

We have seen that Map allowed himself wide range in 
the announcement of his subject It is fortunate that he 
did so ; for, like his heroes, Gado and Triimein, he despised 
narrow boundaries, and shows himself as restless in letters 
as Gado was in adventure. Map, however, was well aware 
of this discursive tendency ; in the opening pages he finds 
himself digressing so far from his topic, the Court, as to be 
deep in a discussion of the fabulous longevity of certain 
animals, whereupon he remarks: " De curia nobis origo 
sermonis, et quo iam deuenit ? Sic incidunt semper aliqua 
que licet non multum ad rem, tamen differri nolunt, nee 
refert, dum non atrum desinant in piscem, et rem poscit 
apte quod instat." *® To this liberal principle Map adheres 
throughout his work. 

This waywardness is, indeed, not the least of his charms. 
So long as he is interesting, one need not complain that he 
follows no beaten paths, but leads us, at his whim, through 
the courts of earthly kings, or into a fairy hill, in monkish 
cloisters, or along the strand of Normandy, with Gado to 

• DNc, James, p. 104. • dnc, James, p. 204, U. 7-10. 

** Dwc, James, p. 140. •• dnc, James, pp. 3-4. 

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the farthest Indies, or with Gillescop into the icy seas of the 
Scottish coast, with Gterbert from the woods of France to 
the papal throne, and in a trice whisks us away mid the 
splendors of Byzantine decadence and into pirate galleys 
commanded by an incomparable shoemaker. The uncer- 
tainty what scene will next claim attention is a delight, — 
if one loves romance. 

As a story-teller Map has decided merits. When once he 
discards his Euphuistic balance and alliteration, puns, 
conceits, and classical mythology, he is a spirited narrator, 
' with a curt, rapid style, . and a natural felicity in words. 
At times narration is not swift or vivid enough, and he 
seizes on dramatic form with remarkable effect "^ He has 
been denied power of characterization. But surely the 
queen in Sadius and Oalo is not a puppet ; her soliloquy,'* 
with its quick shifts of passion, alone would free Map from 
the charge that he was not concerned with the emotional 
life of his characters. Nor, do I think, could anyone but a 
shrewd observer of human nature have written the few 
lines that tell of the meeting of the lovelorn Kesus with his 
scornful lady and her unsuspicious husband.'* There is 
little of this in De Nugis Curialiunij but that little reveals 
latent powers beyond the average medieval teller of tales. 

There is, however, one qualification of a narrative artist 
that Map does not give evidence of, — ability to construct. 
Most of his stories consist of a single episode, even of a 
single incident Most of them must have come to him 
complete in plot; Map's only task was to relate them in an 
attractive manner. When his source lacked unity. Map 
does not improve matters; such a story is that of Alan 
Rebrit,^ vivid indeed in some incidents, but as a whole 
intolerably rambling. 

** DNO, James, pp. 109-10, 20001. See also Map's description of his 
own household, pp. 8-11. ** dno, James, pp. 106-08. 

"DNC, James, p. 136, 11. Iff. "dno, James, pp. 189-97. 

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132 JAMEB Hnrroir 

The only story in De Nugis Curialmm that is compiled 
from several sources is that of Earl Godwin (Dist v^ cap. 
iii-iv). An examination of it shows Map's weakness in 
combining sources so as to produce a narrative that should 
have unity, proportion, and a definite artistic effect. He 
could not reject the unsuitable; he could not maintain one 
point of view, but must needs shift his sympathy with his 
source, or his source with his sympathy.^^ The same dis- 
position that is manifested in his sudden transitions from 
one subject to another in the larger masses of his composi- 
tion rules him also within the compass of this single story. 
There is no indication that the author of this work was 
capable of the sustained interest needed for such a work as 
the vast and leisurely Lancelot 

Leisureliness is, in fact, never a characteristic of Walter 
Map. The nervous brevity and compactness of his best 
stories impress one as the result, not of deliberate artistic 
effort, but of a habit of terse, energetic expression. Learn- 
ing and false wit sometimes obstruct progress, as true wit 
often enlivens the way; but the author does not dally be- 
cause he delights in lingering. He wrote stories well be- 
cause he told stories well ; his best style has something of 
the informality of speech. Despite his talk of the Muses, 
he was not an ambitious author, but an amateur in letters, 
whose sprightly conversation had brought upon him urgent 
pleas for a book He lacked the incentive needed to finish 
even so small a work. I think, however, we have not lost 
greatly because his book remained inchoate ; its excellence 
would never have been in its larger architecture, but in the 
charm of its component parts. 

James Hinton. 

**I have analyzed this story, and compared its episodes with 
historical, and quasi-historical, sources; the result I hope to publish 

Digitized by 




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JUNE, 1917 


Boston Postal Dibtbiot 




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VI.— -The Speculum Viiae: AddendunL By Hope Emily Allkpt, 133-162 

VII. — The Rise of a Theory of Stage Presentation in England 

during the Eighteenth Century. By Lily B. Campbell, 163-200 

Vni.— The Beginnings of Poetry. By Louise Pound, - - 201-232' 

IX. — ^The Dramas of George Henry Boker. By Abthub 

HoBSON QuiNN, 233-266 

X. — Love Fayned and Unfayned and the English Anabaptists. 

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XL — ^The Debate on Marriage in the Canterbury Tales. By 

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XII.— Spenser, Lady Carey, and the Complaints Volume. By 

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Priory. By Gobdon Hall Gebould, - - - 323-337 

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Modern Language Association of America 

Vol. XXXII, 2 New Series, Vol. XXV, 2 


The present paper is intended to form a postscript to the 
last section of my study of the authorship of the Pricle of 
Conscience, published in 1910.^ In the earlier article 
the traditional attribution of the poem to Richard Eolle, 
the hermit of Hampole, was attacked, and in conclusion 
a clue was followed which seemed to lead towards the 
Speculwri Vitae, a similar Middle-English poem still un- 
edited. A connection between the two poems had appar- 
ently been built up by J. Ulbnann,^ in an elaborate analy- 
sis of similar stylistic peculiarities found in both, and he 
had used the evidence, thus apparently deduced, to tirge 
the ascription (found in one copy of the Specvlum) to 
RoUe, then always credited with the authorship of the 
Prich of Conscience. Ullmann's conclusion as to the 
common authorship of the two poems was used in the dis- 
cussion as to the authorship of the latter by turning them 

^ Studies in English and Comparative Literature, Radoliffe College 
Monographs, No. 15, Boston and New York, pp. 116-170. 

*^ngUsche Studien, vn, pp. 415 ft. The poem is described and the 
firsl three hundred lines are quoted. 


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about: since two other copies of the Spectdvm gave the 
work to William of Nassington^^ it was suggested, when 
RoUe's authorship of the Prick of Conscience seemed im- 
possible, that the true author might be found in Nassing- 
ton, who was possibly the author of the very similar 
Spectdvm. However, since the latter work was not in 
print, and had not at the time of writing been accessible 
to me in manuscript, the discussion as to the connection 
between the two works could only be incomplete and ten- 

Since 1910, I have examined thirty-one manuscripts 
of the Speculum,^ and other material connected with it 

'The attribution runs as follows: 
". . . pray specialy 

For Freere Johan saule of Waldby, 

That fast studyd day and nyght, 

And made this tale in Latyne right. . . . 

Prayes also wt deuoion 

For William saule of Nassyngtone, 

That gaf hym als f uUe besyly 

Night and day to grete study 

And made this tale in Inglys tonge/' 
This ending is quoted from Reg. MS. 17 G. Tm in Warton-Hazlitt, 
History of English Poetry, London, 1871, in, p. 116, n. 2. Hatton 
ics. 19 gives substantiaUy the same. Both manuscripts belong to the 
early fifteenth century. It may be noted that nine of the thirty-one 
manuscripts of the poem which I have examined are imperfect at the 
end, where an attribution would occur. 

* I wish to thank here 'the owners of the manuscripts described for 
the courtesy which I have everywhere received. I do not list the 
copies of the Bpecvlum because a complete list wUl appear in the sec- 
ond part of the Register of MiddU'English Poetry of Professor 
Carleton Brown (Oxford University Press, Pt. i, 1917). I wish to 
thank also the librarians of Syracuse, Ck>meU, and Columbia Uni- 
versities, who have courteously allowed me access to their shelves at 
various times. The notes made from manuscripts have unfortunately 
not been read with the originals since they were taken in 1910 when 
I held the fellowship of the Association of OoUegiate Alumnae. This 
paper was " read by title " at the meeting of the Association in 1914. 

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has been studied. The present paper therefore will set 
forth the restdts of this research, and terminate the discus- 
sions begun in the earlier one, in so far as they concern 
the Speculum Vitae, and have in any way been altered by 
the more complete evidence available in that connection, 
since the first paper was written. The material here de- 
scribed does not lead to complete conclusions as to the 
origin of the Speculum VUde, but it is hoped that it will 
be useful as far as it goes. The larger investigation, that 
of the manuscripts of all the works of Bichard BoUe, and 
of those of the Prick of Consciencey — ^to which it has been 
subordinate, — ^will be presented in later papers, and will 
complete the main discussion of the paper in 1910, as the 
present paper is intended to complete that of the last 

A surprising result of the recent investigation of ma- 
terial connected with the Speculum has been to discredit 
completely the specific evidence on which TJllmann built 
up his conclusions. It has been discovered that the classi- 
fications of stylistic peculiarities which he applied to the 
two poems were for the most part derived — sometimes 
verbatim — from three studies of the style of Old-French 
writers- These are: BenoU de Sainte-More. Evne 
sprachliche urdersuchung ilber iderUitdt der verfasser 
des " Roman de Troie " und der " Chronique des Dues de 
Normandie/' by F. Settegast, — a study made in 1876 
(several years before TJllmann's), also at Breslau; Der 
801 Crestien's von Troies, by B. Qrosse, Franzoaische 
Studien, i, pp. 127 ff. ; and OuUlaumej le clerc de Normarir 
die, insbesondere seine Magdalenerdegende, by A. Schmidt, 
Boehmer's Romanische Studien, rv, pp. 493 ff. Ullmann 
sometimes refers to stylistic peculiarities in rom/mzen- 
poesie similar to those with which he is concerned here, 
but he cites no authorities, though his use of the authors 

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just listed amounts sometimes to plagiarism. Since the 
characteristics which he found that the two poems possessed 
in common are thus discovered not to he peculiar to them, 
no value of course remains in the use by Ullmann of these 
similarities as a criterion of common authorship. The 
relation of TJllmann's work to his sources will be illus- 
trated in another paper, where it will form the basis for 
another discussion. It must be said here, however, that 
nothing has appeared to make the hypothesis of a common 
authorship for the Speculum Vitae and the Prich of Con- 
science untenable, though there is now no special evidence 
on which this hypothesis may be grounded. 

It must be said at once that the examination of the manu- 
scripts of the Speculum has increased the imcertainty as to 
its authorship. The name of William of Nassington has 
not been found attached to more than the two copies 
already known, and no name of another author has been 
substituted. Nothing has been added to our information as 
to this person, and he may or may not be the author of the 
Speculum. It is also somewhat disconcerting to find that 
the Latin prose Commentary on the Pater Noster of John 
de Waldeby, Provincial of the Augustinian Friars in Eng- 
land at the close of the fourteenth century, of which many 
copies stiU exist, is not the source of the English poem. 
This treatise is a long work of which the prologue b^ns 
with the text: Septies in die laudem dioci tibu ... (a 
beginning also quoted from a Commentary on the Pater 
Noster ascribed by Tanner to " Thos. Colby.") *^ In Eeg. 
MS. 7 B II and other copies of Waldeby's Paier Noster, his 
Commentaries on the Angelical Salutation and the Creed 
immediately follow, and the authorship of the latter is put 
beyond all doubt by the appearance of a prefatory letter 

" See A. G. Little, Initia operum latinorum, ManoheBter, 1904. 

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addressed to Thomas, Abbot of St. Alban's, who, the letter 
states, when at Tynemouth at the translation of the relics 
of St. Oswin, had spoken of Waldeby's sermons delivered 
at York. Some fame for this letter is apparent from its 
inclusion in a "model letter-writer'' in Trinity College 
Cambridge ms. 1285, f. 72b. 

It may of course be possible that a second commentary 
by Waldeby was the source of the SpeciUum. Consider- 
able material exists for the study of his writings, and it is 
evidently in confusion. He has apparently been confused 
with his brother, the Archbishop of York, Eobert (v. D. N. 
-B.), perhaps with a " Jean de Galles " who lived in London 
in 1368,® and also perhaps with the famous Minorite of the 
thirteenth century (as famous in France as in England), 
Joannes Wallensis. For example, Lambeth ms. 352 con- 
tains a copy of Waldeby 's Pater Noster already referred to, 
under the title " Itinerarium Salutis.'' '^ An " Itinerar- 
ium " is one of the three parts of the " Ordinarium " of the 
Minorite (v. D. N. B.), and Haenel notes as, apparently, 
a separate work, " loan. Wallensis itinerarium." ® 

A lengthy list of the writings of the Augustinian can 
be made out from the catalogue of books in the Austin 
Friars' library at York, compiled in his lifetime,® perhaps 

* See Hiatoire liit6raire de la France^ xxv, pp. 179 f. Perhaps this 
is the Johannes V^ellis, Monk of Ramsey, who was one of the bitterest 
opponents of Wycliflfe. See Fasciculi Ziza/niorum, Rolls Series, Lon- 
don, 1858, pp. 113 et passim, and Monumenta FrancisoanOf Rolls 
Series, London, 1858, p. 598. In the Fasciculi John de Waldeby is 
evidently confused with his brother, when he is called Archbishop of 
Dublin (p. 356). 

* The work is found with the same title in Corpus Christi College 
Cambridge ms. 317, and Laud Misc. MS. 296. 

* Catalogi Librum Manuscript or um, Leipzig, 1830, p. 123. 

*The Catalogue of the Tdhrary of the Augustinian Friars^ York, 
ed. by M. R. James, in Fasciculus J. W. Clark Dioatus, Cambridge, 

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during his residence there.^^ Some of these works are 
unknown except for their mention here, but more could 
certainly be found than are listed in the D. N. B.^^ It may 
be noted that, in a ms. of Waldeby's Paier Noster quoted 
from by M. Petit-Dutaillis, he is referred to as " Professor 
of Holy Writ at Oxford," ^^ and he is called " Professor of 
Holy Writ " in Lambeth ms. 352. Probably we cannot be 
absolutely sure whether or no Waldeby had a connection 
with the Speculum till the manuscripts of all his works are 
worked over, and it is possible that " Joannes Wallensis " 
may be found to be the author of the source. He died c. 
1303, and his dates would therefore combine better with 
Nassington's — ^who died in 1359 (if the identification 
made in my former paper is correct) — than Waldeby's, 
who died apparently in 1393. 

An English prose Mirror is found in three copies, and, 
as quotations made at the end of this paper will show, it is 
evident from a superficial comparison with the Speculum 
that they both render the same work. The Mirror throws 
no light on the origin of the poem, and the relation of the 
two is uncertain. A line-by-line comparison has not been 

1909. Several entries occur here of a Comment on the Paier Noster 
ascribed to Waldeby, some of which are followed by the same two 
pieces as in the Re^. ms. ; but we have no means of knowing whether 
they all refer to the same work. 

" He is referred to as " Eboracensis " in Laud Misc. MS. 77. 

" Laud Misc. MS. 77 of the early fifteenth century may specially be 
pointed out as interesting for the study of Waldeby. Latin Ser- 
mones Dominioalea are here followed by some English alliterative 
verses, and a set of stories for preachers. The whole is entitled 
Novum opus Dominicale. The date of composition is given as 1365. 
(I quote from the catalogue.) The title Novum opus is applied in 
the York catalogue to two works by Waldeby — a Doctrinale, and a 
work De Sanctis (p. 77). The catalogue was compiled in 1372. 

" ]6tudes d*hisitoire du moyen-Age, D^dices A CMriel Monod, Paris, 
1896, pp. 884 flF. He quotes from Caius Coll. MS. 334. 

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made^ but, failing that, a few observations can be bazarded 
on the subject 

It is possible that the Mirror is derived from the Specu- 
lum, for, at the beginning of the fourteenth century, it was 
the fashion in France, at any rate, to put out versions of old 
poems in a " desrime " form,^* and there are even signs, 
at that time, of a prejudice against verse as a vehicle not 
sufficiently serious for truthful compositions.^* Against 
this hypotiiesis must be put the fact that there seem to be 
few traces of this fashion in England. Moreover, the be- 
ginnings of the two works differ entirely, and the easiest 
explanation for their divergence would be on the ground 
of their being separate translations of the same original. 

"Dte la fin du Xllle sidcle, on avait commence selon Pexpression 
du temps, k ** desrimer " lee anciens poSmee francais {Hiatoire Lit- 
Uravrcy xxm, p. 326). 

^Warton quotes prologues of prose works which declare that 
" Esioire rimee semhle mensunge" " Nuz oontea rymes n*en eai vtm" 
(n, p. 137), and Froissart is quoted in the same strain (Le Prince 
Noir, ed. F. Michel, London, 1863, p. x, n.). Professor G. L. Hamil- 
ton has kindly pointed out similar statements in the following works : 
a prose version of the Roman de Troie (A. Joly, Benoit de Sainte- 
More et Le Roman de Troie, Paris, 1870, i, pp. 422, 423, n.) ; a version 
of the PaeudO'Turpin {Romania, xvi, p. 61) ; a history of Philip Au- 
gustus {op. oit,, VI, p. 405) ; a Beatiaire {Naticea et Eatraita, xxxm, 
Pt. I, p. 22). He also points out the apology which the author of the 
Anglo-Norman Romanz de tute ohevalerie (probably ''Master Eus- 
tace") feels it necessary to make for his use of verse (P. Meyer, 
Alexandre le Orand dona la liU4rature franoaiae du moyen dge, Paris, 
1886, 1, p. 221, y. 43) . The reasons urged against the use of verse are 
generally its use by minstrels, and its addition of extra words. Mas- 
ter Eustace is an Englishman, but, aside from his work, the nearest 
analogy to be found in England is the following, from the Dialogue 
prefixed by Trevisa to his version of the Polyohronioon. The Lord 
answers to the clerk, when asked whether he prefers a translation in 
rhyme or prose^ ''In prose, for commonly prose is more clear than 
rhyme, more easy and more plain to know and understand" (^Z- 
teenth Century Proae and Verae, ed. A. W. Pollard, An EngUah 
Qamer, vol. xn, p. 207). 

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As will be seen later in the illustrative quotations, the 
introduction of the Speculum contains two elements not 
found in the Mirror, — namely, the declaration of the utili- 
ty of its subject-matter, as compared to that of romances, — 
a list of which is enumerated,^*^ — and the explanation of 
the choice of the vernacular as the medium for the work.^® 

" Innumerable examples of the same sort are to be found in Old 
French and Anglo-Norman works, — "Combien de fois n'a-t-on pas 
oppose les aventures des saints & celles des preux et des chevaliers ! " 
(Petit de JuUeville, Histoire de la langue et de la littirature fran- 
Qoise, Paris, 1896, i, p. 20). See for examples, Romania, xn, p. 147, 
XVI, p. 66, Angier, Dialogues de 8t. Qrigoire, ed. T. Cloran, Strasburg, 
1901, p. 14. English examples of the same kind are cited in V^arton, 
n, pp. 122,125. Similar comparisons are made in sermons, — see quota- 
tions from Robert de Sorbon and Gerald de Li^ge made by M. Ch. V. 
Langlois in his article, '* L'^loquence sacr^ au Moyen-Age" (Revue 
dee Deux Mondea, Jan. 1893, p. 190; multi iamen compaHuntur 
Rolando et non Ohristo) ; and a Lollard tract in Camb. Univ. MS. 
li. vi. 26, f. 131, — " But summam sei}?, I prieie l?ee leeue l?ees spechis 
And telle me a mery tale of giy of warwyk, Beufiz of hamtoun, eij>er 
of Sire ( ? ? ) , Robyn hod, ei)>er of summe wel f ai^nge man of here 
condicioims and maners." The fact that Middle English literature 
simply perpetuates in such examples a fashion begun in Anglo- 
Norman appears from comparison of the thirteenth-century Passion 
of Our Lord {EET8, No. 49, p. 37) with the Josaphat of the almost 
contemporary Anglo-Norman Chardry [Altfranzosische Bihliothekf i, 
p. 74) ; or the Middle English Mirrur and the Anglo-Norman Miroir 
(see my article in Modem Philology, xrn, p. 741). These compari- 
sons — like the prejudice against prose already mentioned — ^were 
doubtless part of the competition of monastic writers with writers 
of romantic fiction (as is noted by Miss Laura Hibbard, Romanic 
Review, TV, p. 183). A reason for their popularity can be found in 
the fondness that has been noted in the Middle Ages for all kinds of 
catalogues. From this point of view the present examples come very 
near to the second part of Sir Thopas, and our impression is con- 
firmed that they represent an almost stereotyped form (see Chaucers 
Sir Thopas, by J. Bennewitz, Halle, 1879, p. 16). 

"A long tradition for such explanations existed in Old French, 
Anglo-Norman, and Middle English, as will be shown in another 
paper. Examples in which a Middle English work derived such an 

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Both these motifs were what might be called fashionable 
elements in the introductions to popular works during sev- 
eral centuries ; they had been very frequent in French and 
Anglo-Norman literature for laymen for generations be- 
fore they passed into Middle English. The introduction of 
the Mirror, on the other hand, is purely theological, — open- 
ing as it does with the exposition of a text, — and it is such 
as would be suitable to a Summa on the Pater Noster, — 
which is the sort of work that we can imagine the source of 
the Speculum to be. It may be useful as a clue for search- 
ing out the direct source for that work. A motive can be 
seen for substituting in a composition seeking to be popular 
with laymen, the sprightly introduction, after a popular 
manner, which is foimd in the poem, whereas no motive 
can be seen for supplanting the introduction found in the 
Speculum by that found in the Mirror. 

As a matter of fact, several cases are to be noted in which 
the reference to romances was interpolated into prologues 
in which it was not originally present. The comparison with 
a list of romances in the Cursor Mundi is inserted into one 
group of the manuscripts of the PricTc of Conscience j^'^ 
one copy of the Bible of Qeffroi de Paris contains a pro- 
logue contrasting the story of Roland with the Passion 
(this is altogether the conunonest antithesis made),^® and 
a lengthy example of the same sort is borrowed from the 
Caiendrier of the Anglo-Norman Eaiif de Linham in an 
Anglo-Norman poem on the Nine Daughters of the Devil. 

element from the ADglo-Norman are the Mimir, already referred to, 
and the Lamentation of Mary (see Modem Philology, loo, oit,, and 
xrv, pp. 255-6). 

" See my article on *' the Manuscript Evidence for the Authorship 
of the Prick of Conscience," now under preparation. 

" Les Traductions de la Bible en vers francais au moyen dge, par 
J. Bonnard, Paris, 1884, p. 52. 

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M. Meyer says of the interpolation ..." que je ne saurais 
expliquer d'une maniere satisf aisante. . . . L'emprunt est 
assurement singulier." ^* The extreme popularity of such 
introductions seems sufficient reason for such an insertion ; 
the lietuc communs found in edifying literature appear to be 
as much the subject of fashions as the motifs of romances. 
It would be natural therefore to explain the prologue of 
the Speculum as an attempt to follow the current f addons, 
and not necessarily an exact reproduction of its original. 
However, the relation of the Speculum and Mirror cannot, 
of QQurse, be settled in the present state of our knowledge. 
The Speculum occurs in three copies ^^ with a title such 
as, Liber de Pater Noster, and in fact it is, as has al- 
ready been noted, a Summa on the Pater Noster which 
we may expect to be the source. Though the direct source 
has not been found, some clues can be given as to its ele- 
ments. The exact outline and in some passages the exact 
material is given in an anonymous Latin tract on the 
Pater Noster existing in at least five copies. This work 
has been noted, but its connection with the Speculum has 
never before been recognized.^^ It apparently enjoyed 
considerable authority, since, as is here pointed out for the 
first time, the first part was used in the popular com- 
pendium entitled the Speculum Spiritualium,^^ It has 

" Romcmiaf xxix, p. 54. 

■• LI. I. 8, McClean 130 (at the FitzwiHiam Museum, formerly " ics. 
A " of Samuel W. Singer, as Brit. Mus. Addit. MS. 22, 668 is " MS. 
B "), and Bodl. MS. Eng. Poet. d. 6 (formerly the Corser MS.). 

^ See infra, p. 166. 

•"Cap. xxvn, Fol. Ixxvii. This work, of which partial copies at 
least go back to the late fifteenth century (v. MS. Dd. iv, 64), was 
printed by W. Hopyl in 1610 in Paris at the expense of William 
Bretton, a London citizen. The work is confessedly designed pri- 
marily for the use of contemplatives, and it quotes largely from the 
English mystics. The author withholds his name, but it is given in 
the Catalogue of the Library of 8yon Monastery (ed. Mary Bateson, 

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not been compared line by line with the SpectUvm, but it is 
clear from sporadic comparisons throughout the text that 
it gives a far briefer and more piirely theological treat- 
ment of its subject than the SpectUum Vitae; the pictur- 
esque passages giving glimpses of the familiar life of the 
time are all lacking, but the relation of the po«n to the 
tract is nevertheless unmistakable. 

In the material in general the Middle-English SpectUvm 
and Mirror stand very near to the famous Somme of Frfere 
Lorens, the source of the Ayenbite of Inwit The Specur 
lum has been said to be founded on the Somme, and again, 
no complete comparison has been made; but enough has 
been done ^* to show that the true relation is uncertain and 
complicated. Parts are identical, as the quotations at the 
end of this paper will prove, but again the Somme will 
give only the sketch of what is found in the Speculum. 
Much of the picturesque realism of the poem is derived 
from the Somme,^* but, on the other hand, the best of such 

Cambridge, 1898, p. 202) as ''Adam, monachus Garthusiensis." I 
wish to thank the librarian of Union Theological Seminary for the 
use of his copy — of which I learned through a reference by Professor 
T. F. Crane in the Romaviio Repiew, vi, p. 220. 

*The relation of the two works is pointed out in the description 
of Addit. ics. 22, 283, in the catalogue of the manuscripts of the 
British Museum. — ^A Middle English prose version by a ''knyght of 
Kyng henrye, conqueroiire of Normandye," writing in 1451, is found 
in the Bodl. MS. E. Mus. 23, with the curious title Auenture and 
grace, which is thus explained: "per as I was not perfecte of the 
langage of frensch by symple vndirstondyng of the langage, me- 
thowght it was yertues I adventured to drawe it in to englisch, and 
in many places ther I coude not englisch it, grace of the holy goste 
)afe me englisch acordyng to the sentens, wich come of grace. 8o \»e 
terete bygonn with aventure, and so folowid grace" (f. 261). Other 
English versions are noted in the preface to the Ayenbite of Imoit 
{EET8,No, 23). 

■•For example, the accoimt of the "miracles of the Devil** who 
sends a man into a tavern with his wits, and out without them (in 
the account of Qluttony, MS. li. i. 26, f. 88b., Romania, xxiv, p. 68). 

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material is new. In the prologue, as the quotations will 
show, the Speculum uses the Somme less than the tract on 
the Pater Koster, but the two latter for a few sentences 
coincide. What may be the general relation between these 
two sources is uncertain. There were a multitude of 
Summae of their type circulating during the Middle Ages, 
as has especially been shown by the studies made in the 
effort to settle the source of Chaucer's Parsons Tale;^^ 
and the research that they have so far received has done no 
more than disclose the problem of their history. The exact 
particulars given in many manuscripts of the Somme, as 
to the date and circumstances ^® of its composition, are very 
definite, and one would expect plain sailing for the student 
of this most famous of all mediaeval Summae for laymen ; 
nevertheless, the origin and structure of the work are 
actually involved in such obscurity that the best that can 
be done at present is to state the problem, since, owing to 
the relation which exists between the Speculum and the 
Somme, it has some relation to our present enquiry as to 
the origin of the f ormer.^"^ 

"See Radcliffe College Monographs, No. 12, The Sources of the 
Parson's Tale, by Kate 0. Petersen, Boston, 1901, especially p. 80, n. 
1 : R. E. Fowler, Une Source fro/nQaise des po^mes de Oower, Mieicon, 

•• The book is said to have been compiled in 1279, by Frfere Lorens, 
of the Order of Preachers, Confessor of the King, Philip, at whose 
request the work was undertaken. Professor G. L. Hamilton has 
pointed out to me the interesting note in the Revue des langues 
romanes, LVi, pp. 20 f., which quotes the epitaph of Lorens. He is 
thereby proved to have been tutor of the King's children as well as 
confessor to the King, formerly Prior of the convent at Paris, and, 
apparently, a native of Orleans. A reference to his Somme seems to 
lie in the mention of his ethical teaching. His death is put between 
1296 and 1300. 

•^See Bulletin de la Soci^ti des anciens textes fran^ais, 1881, pp. 
48-9; 1892, pp. 68flf.; Romania, xrv^, pp. 532 flf., xxrn, pp. 449 flf., 
zxvn, pp. 109 ff. C. Boser made a valuable study of the Provencal 

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M. Paul Meyer, to whom we owe our principal informa- 
tion on the subject of the Somme, as on so many other im- 
portant questions of mediaeval literary history, has divided 
the work into six parts,^® and since most of these parts 
occur separately, he concludes that Frere Lorens's share in 
the work was no more than the consolidation of separate 
tracts, already old, and probably the composition of the 
last member.^* A very puzzling element enters the situa- 
tion from the appearance of a work very similar to the 
Somme, but not identical with it, known as the Miroir du 
Monde.^^ This work exists in an earlier and a later form, 
and the latter, which is especially similar to the Somms, 
even carries the same colophon as to the composition by 
FrSre Lorens, at the request of the King in 1279. 

texts Id Ronumia, xnv, pp. 66 ff., and planned an investigation of 
the Somme and aU derivatives, but this enterprise was cut short by 
death (op. dt., xxv, p. 338). 

^Bulletin, 1892, Romania, xxm. 

^Romania, xxm, p. 454. He refers (p. 450) to the part on the 
Pater Nosier — ''Qui par le style se distingue assez bien de ce qui 
prteMe, et de ce qui suit." It does not seem that M. Meyer*s argu- 
ments for the composite origin of the Somme are conclusive, since 
he nowhere points out a copy of a part which antedates the time of 
Lorens. There is no reason why the latter might not have collected 
his own work, originally published separately. The style of the 
Somme is in general so unusuaUy vivacious for mediaeval theology 
that a composite authorship is a little hard to accept. 

^ Bulletin, 1802, Romania^ xxni. This work is in print, edited by 
Felix Chavannes, La Mireour du Monde, Lausanne, 1845, M^moirea et 
documents publics par la Sooi^t4 c^histoire de la Suisse romande. 
The Somme of course is not in print, except in the Middle English 
translation, the Ayenhite of Inwit, but large excerpts from the origi- 
nal are published by R. W. Evers, Bei4rdge zur erkldrung und text- 
kritik von Dan MicheVs Ayenbite of intoyt, Erlangen, 1888. Other 
studies of the relation between the Somme and Ayenbite are to be 
found in Englische Studien, i, pp. 379 ff., n, pp. 98 flf. Harvard Uni- 
versity possesses a manuscript of the Somme, which was given by Dr. 
Fumivall during his last illness, as a memorial to Professor Child. 

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In the complex problem of the origin of the Somme and 
its connections,^^ one or two details should be pointed out 
as of interest for tibe problem of the origin of the Speculum 
Vitae. A writer who has studied the various treatises just 
mentioned in an investigation of the sources of Gtewer's 
Mir our de UOmme, is of the opinion from the evidence 
yielded by her research, that a Svmma from which both 
Somme and Mirour were derived, existed in a more ex- 
tended form than either derivative,*^ in which, it must be 
noted, the references to the familiar life of the time would 
be especially abundant. It is a pity that she was not 
able to bring into her investigation the Speculum Vitae, 
which shows a distinct relation to the French treatises, 
but more realistic details than they. The question of a 
lost prototype of the Somme has also been discussed in con- 
nection with a peculiar Provengal text, — in which, it 
should be noted, the construction follows that of the Specur 
lum more closely than does the Somme, since it also 
strengthens, though not by the same means, the connections 
with the Pater ' Noster which bind the whole treatise 
together.'® Again, the resemblance of title between the 

"^M. Gh. V. Langlois writes in his Vie en France au moyen dge 
d^apris quelquee moraliateM du tempe, Paris, lOOS, p. v.: "C'eet & 
peine si les premiers trayaiix d'approche pour P^tude des sources de 
la c^l^bre compilation intitule la Somme le roi . , . ont €t6 ex^ 

* Fowler, op. oit,, pp. 32 ff. It may be remarked that Joannes Wal- 
lensis, already mentioned, who was one of the most conspicuous figures 
in the theological world in both England and France during the 
thirteenth century, would be a most likely person to be the author 
of such a work. He is already known to be the author of several 
Summae, and A. G. Little, in his Orey Friare at Owford (Oxford, 
1892, p. 149), notes that an exposition on the Pater Noster is some- 
times assigned to the Minorite. 

* Romania, xxiv, pp. 56 ff. This text begins with the Seven Deadly 
Sins. It introduces the De quinque eeptenie of Hugo of St. Victor to 
assist in forming the framework (p. 88). 

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two works makes it probable that the Speculum has used 
the Miroir rather than the Somme, and it is to be noted 
that some manuscripts of the Miroir contain a prologue 
which is not printed by Chavannes.'* This may have been 
used in the Speculum. It seems that the Miroir, as 
printed, also omits the latter part of the work,**^ and, 
altogether, the relation of the Speculum and Miroir cannot 
be determined from the printed text of the latter. *• It 
should be noted that all the French works here discussed 
put the exposition of the Pater Noster at the middle or end 
of the work, and they usually begin with the Ten Com- 
mandments.*'' The Speculum, on the other hand, ex- 
pounds the Pater Noster at the beginning, and uses it as 
the frame to which the other subjects are linked, thus 
giving the whole a continuity not found in the French 
works, — ^for the lack of which they have been several times 
criticised.*® It would appear that the Speculum and 
Mirror derive their superior arrangement from the tract 
on the Pater Noster, already mentioned, though in the 
case both of lliis piece and of the French treatises it may 
be that the relation is collateral, and it is even possible 
that the English works represent the ultimate source, if 
such existed, more fully than any other derivative. 

In conclusion a word must be said as to the following 
note, found in three copies of the poem: 

•"See Bulletin, 1892, p. 70. n. 2. 

• Fowler, p. 21. 

** Hie general confusion can be illustrated by the case of the ewem- 
plum regarding "Marion Torgan" used in the SpeouVum in the 
account of the V^orks of Mercy (f. 115b). This is not present in the 
tract on the Pater Noster, but it is found in the Somme (British 
Museum Addit. ics. 28,162, f. 108b.— "Marie doingines"), though 
not in the Miroir as printed. It is in the Mirror (f. 84). 

''Romania, xxvi, p. 109. 

* See Hiatoire Uii4raire, xxvu, p. 183, Rom^mia, xziv, p. 82. 

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' Anno Domini Millesimo ccc^^o Ixxxiiijo, compilatio ista hoc modo 
Cantabrigiae erat examinata; diun a quodam sacerdote ad ligandum 
ibidem fuit posita a quibusdam scolaribus, diligenter erat iniuita, 
atque perlecta, et cancellario Universitatis ejusque concilio prae- 
sentata, propter defectus et haereses examinanda, ne minus litterati 
populum per earn negligenter fallant, et in varios errores fallaciter 
inducant. Tunc jussu cancellarii, coram eo et toto consilio universi- 
tatis, per quatuor dies, cum omni studio et diligentia fuit examinata, 
atque in omni collegio imdique comprobata, die quinto, onmibus doc- 
toribus utriusque juris et magistris theologiae, cum caAellario, dicen- 
tibus et affirmantibus cam de sacris legibus et libris divinis bene ac 
subtiliter tractatam, et ex auctoritate omnium doctorum sacrae 
paginae sapienter allegatam, id est affirmatam, necnon et fundatam. 
Ideo quicimque fueris, o lector, banc noli contempnere, quia sine 
dubio si aliqui defectus in ea inventi fuissent, coram Universitate 
Cantabrigiae oombusta fuisset."* 

Though no positive certainty can of course be attached 
to such information, unsupported by other evidence, there 
is nothing, on the other hand, to render it positively sus- 
picions,^® unless it be the fact that the manuscripts con- 
taining it aU belong to the early fifteenth century, and by 
that time the suspicion with which vernacular religious 
works were regarded on account of Lollardry was so great 
that a note like the present one was practically useful as a 
safe-conduct,^^ and therefore likely to be fabricated. 
Claims like the present one were sometimes made fraudu- 

■» Quoted from Bodl. ms. 446 as above by J. O. Halliwell, Thornton 
Ronumoea, Camden Society, London, 1S44, pp. xxf. The same note 
is foimd in Cambridge University ics. li. i. 36, and Caius College 
MS. 160. 

*It was accepted as authentic by C. H. Cooper (AnnaU of Cam- 
bridge, Cambri^e, 1842-1908, i, p. 128; v, p. 260. I am unable to 
trace the reference to the "Cambridge Portfolio**), and it is, on his 
authority, made the basis of a statement in Old English Libraries, 
by E. A. Savage ("The Antiquary's Books,'* London, 1911, p. 166). 

** Books written " in the time of John Wydiffe or since *' were sub- 
ject to examination, by the Constitutions of Archbishop Anmdel in 
1408 (SM Wilkins, Concilia Magnae Briianniae, etc., London, 1737, 
m, pp. 314-9; see also pp. 338, 366, 378). 

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THE SPBGULUM vitae: abdekdum 149 

lendy, merely for the sake of selling a book : for example, 
" Sir John Mandeville " says that he showed his work to 
the Pope at Eome, at a date when actually the Pope was at 
Avignon.*^ Public examinations were, however, some- 
times a fact, for Giraldus Cambrensis describes his own 
reading of his Topography of Ireland before the Univer- 
sity of Oxford for three days,^' and Bolandino of Padua 
read his Chronicle in 1262 before the University of 
Padua.** We may well believe that the conditions in the 
nation brought about by the rise of Lollardry were such as 
to make formal examinations of literary works especially 
likely in 1384, even though we have nothing of the kind 
testified to from other sources. This was the year of 
Wycliffe's death, when the Wycliffite movement had become 
definitely heretical, and its influence over the common peo- 
ple through preaching and literary propaganda (which had 
not yet been curbed) was probably at its height.**^ Under 
these circumstances it would seem very natural that the 
orthodox party in the church should authorise for laymen 
a safe and attractive manual of religious instruction, like 
the Speculum, and since Oxford was at the time a center 
of heresy, it may have fallen on Cambridge to initiate 
some of the propaganda of orthodoxy for the academic 
world. The part which Cambridge played in the Wycliff- 
ite controversy has not been investigated ; one of the ques- 
tions asked by Archbishop Arundel at his visitation of 

' The voiage amd trwcaile of Sir John MaundeviUe, Kt, ed. H. O. 
HalliweU, London, 1839, pp. 314-5. This analogy was kindly pointed 
out to me by Mr. O. O. Coulton. 

i^e Rehu€ a $e Ge9tis, Bk. n, chap. 16, QiraJdi Camhreneis Opera, 
ed. J. S. Brew^, London, 1861, Rolls Series, i, p. 72. 

^See ConHon, Mediaeval Oarner, London, 1910, p. 268. 

*Knyghton under the date, 1382, says that half the population 
was Wycliffite {Ohromcon, Rolls Series, London, 1896, n, p. 186). 


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1401 was as to the presence of heretics, and it has been 
taken for granted that they were numerous, without any 
positive evidence being brought forward on the matter.**® 
But, however this case may be, it is evident that Cam- 
bridge must have played a less important part in the 
Wycliffite movement than Oxford, the home of Wycliffe, 
and have been correspondingly more receptive of orthodox 

From early times the Church had attempted to define 
the sine qua non of a layman's proper religious knowledge, 
and the regulations seem to have become more exact after 
the fourth Council of the Lateran, in 1215, when special 
ordinances were made for the instruction of the clergy.**'^ 
In England the basis of religious instruction for laymen 
during the later Middle Ages was the Constitutions of 
Archbishop Peckham of 1281,**® though similar stipula- 
tions were made before this time ; ^* and several compila- 

**See MuUinger, The University of Cambridge from the earliest 
times to the Royal Injunctions of 1585, Cambridge, 1873, p. 258; see 
also p. 271. 

*' R. M. Woolley points out the large number of episcopal institu- 
tions put out in England after this time {English Historical Review, 
XXX, pp. 285 ff.). 

*"Wilkins, i, pp. 51-61; also Gasquet, The Old English Bible and 
other Essays, 2nd edit., London, 1908, p. 170. Four times a year, in 
the vernacular, the Articles of the Faith, Ten Commandments, Two 
Commandments, Seven Works of Mercy, Seven Deadly Sins, "and 
their progeny," Seven Virtues, and Seven Sacraments were to be 
preached. This statute is copied into many manuscripts, many of 
which are listed in Martin's edition of Peckham's Letters (Rolls 
Series, 1885, in, pp. cxxiiiflf.). 

*• We find Roger de Weseham, " Bishop of Coventry and Lichfiejd, 
and principal favourite of Robert Grosseteste," composing a treatise 
for the use of his clergy which follows much the lines of the 
later works (see Memoirs of the Life of Roger de Weseham^ by Sam- 
uel Pegge, London, 1761, p. 57) . Grosseteste had laid down much the 
same in 1237 (see Cobb, Alcuin Club Collections, xvni, p. 53, n. 3). 
Stengel lists Anglo-Norman examples {Digby MS. 86, Halle, 1871, 
pp. Iff.) 

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tions for laymen distinctly mention the fact that they are 
composed to fulfill the requirements of Peckham's ordi- 
nance,*^^ and many more, — of which, as will appear from 
extracts from the prologue printed below, the Speculium is 
one — ^tacitly fulfill the scheme of the ecclesiastical ordi- 
nances more or less closely. It is, in fact, to their relation 
to these decrees that the group of subjects treated in the 
Speculum and recurring in other treatises doubtless owe 
their wide and continued dissemination, and the practical 
usefulness which they served doubtless had its share in de- 
veloping their arrangement into as compact and success- 
fully didactic a compilation as possible. As we have seen, 
the Speculum went farther towards unifying the whole 
than its predecessors, and though it covered practically the 
whole range of subjects required for lay instruction accord- 
ing to Peckham's statutes, and more, yet it could be said to 
fulfill merely the single requirement also made, that the 
people should be taught the Lord's Prayer, an ordinance to 
which the tract on the Pater Noster, and the Mirror di- 
rectly refer, as well as the Speculum (see infra, i^]^, 158-9). 
With the rise of LoUardry the Constitutions of Arch- 
bishop Peckham took on still more importance, for by the 
Constitutions of Archbishop Arundel of 1408, already 
mentioned, vernacular preaching to laymen was rigidly 
limited to the subjects there laid down.^^ It is possible — 

"•See the Speculum Cfhristia/ni^ one of the most popular works of 
the fifteenth century (of which, as it may be useful to note, the New 
York Public Library possesses a copy in an early printed edition), 
and the sermon of " Gaytring," compiled at the request of Archbishop 
Thoresby of York in 1369 {EET8, No. 118). It is altogether proba- 
ble that other similar works were also inspired from above. 

*" The Lollards put out treatises built on the traditional framework 
(see Arnold, Select English Works of Wyclif, Oxford, 1869-71, in), 
and (though the question is of course uncertain because of the un- 
certain date of the pieces) it may be that here, as in other cases, they 
were availing themselves of an orthodox ordinance as a cloak. 

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though on this subject we have no proof — ^that the practice 
of putting books, both Latin and English, into parish 
churches for " common use/' which is commonly recorded 
during the last century and a haK before the Reformation, 
made also part of the " Counter-Eeformation " which fol- 
lowed Lollardry.^^ One of the most frequent of these 
books was tlie PupUla Ocvli, a Latin manual of popular 
religious instruction for the use of parish priests.^* The 
authorship of this work is disputed, but it is generally 
ascribed to John de Burgh, who, it must be noted, was 
made Chancellor of the University of Cambridge in 1384, 
and would therefore be the Chancellor referred to by the 
note on the SpeculvmJ^^ At the time, therefore, to which 

"See, for examples of such gifts. Savage, pp. 128 f. It may be 
noted that Queen Isabel of France ordered the Somme placed in a 
Paris chiirch for the use of the people (Warton-Hazlitt, in, p. 103). 

" Savage, p. 132. In the few examples which he chooses for quota- 
tion this book occurs four times. 

"^Miss Mary Bateson states of the PupiUa^ without giving her 
authority, that it ''may be by Grosseteste, Peter de Limoges, Jo- 
hannes or Jo. de Burgo" (op, oii., p. 191, n. 6). The four copies 
owned by Syon Monastery which she is describing are all anonymous, 
and this seems to be the case with most manuscripts of the work. 
Most writers on the subject accept the authorship of de Burgh, on the 
strength of the edition printed in 1510 in Paris for W. Hopyl, at the 
expense of Bretton (as was also the Speculum BpvrituaXium) , The 
heading is quoted by Maskell as follows : " PupiUa oculi, omnibus 
presbyteris prsecipue Anglicanis summe necessaria: per sapientissi- 
mum divini cultus moderatorem, Johannem de Burgo, quondam almae 
imiversitatis Cantabrigien. cancellarium: et sacre pagime profes- 
soremi necnon ecclesisB de Colingam rectorem; compilata anno a 
natali Dominico, M.ccc.lxxxv. In qua tractatur de septem sacra- 
mentorum administratione, de decem prseceptis decalogi, et de reliquis 
ecdesiasticorum officiis, quae oportet sacerdotem rite institutmn non 
ignorare" {Monumenta Ritualia, London, 1847, m, p. Ixxix, n. 29). 
He notes another edition in 1514. The continued authority of this 
book appears also from the fact that it seems to have been used in 
the Rationale of 1540-3 (see edition by C. S. Cobb, already cited, p. 
6, n. 1). Maskell notes that a "Pupilla" is referred to as early as 

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the note refers, not only was there a general situation 
existing in England in which the examination of an Eng- 
lish manual of popular religious instruction, built on the 
frame-work furnished by Peckham, would be a suitable 
measure, and may have taken place as the beginning of the 
" Counter-Eeformation " of which we have evidence at a 
later date, but the highest authority at Cambridge was 
apparently showing a special interest in the orthodox teach- 
ing of laymen. These facts do not, of course, prove the 
validity of the note, but they suggest that it is worth 
further investigation. 

However far the Specuiwni Vitae may appear to us 
to-day from the type of work to which an academic sanc- 
tion would be granted, there can be no doubt that it repre- 
sented some of the best theology of its time, worked over, 
as it seems, by a compiler of some talent. The Somme, — 
which it is hard to appreciate in the barbarous Kentish 
dialect in which we have generally known it, — ^has received 

1311 (ibid.); Oasquet notes a Pars oouli by William Pagula or 
Walter Parker, of the middle of the fourteenth century (op. oit, pp. 
170-3), and Savage refers to ''several books of this title" (p. 262). 
A De Ooulo Morali, given to Grosseteste in many manuscripts, is de- 
scribed by Martin (op, cit., pp. Ixzxi f.), and a reference to the de- 
scription of the same work given by Little (op. oit,, p. 151) makes it 
probable that it has been confused with the Pupilla by Miss Bateson. 
A treatise on Prayer, not hitherto noted, exists in MS. 1053, of Trin- 
ity College, Cambridge, with the title "Pupilla oculi interioris 
hominis." It shows the influence strongly of Richard Rolle. — ^The 
Pupilla Oouli is quoted from frequently by Rock (Church of Our 
Fathers, ed. Hart and Frere, London, 1905). It would seem to offer, 
for parish clergy, a very suitable equivalent to what the SpeotUum 
offers for the direct use of the laity. If de Burgh is not the author 
of the Pupilla, it is possible that an approbation of the work by him 
may have been the cause of his connection. The authenticity of the 
heading of Hopyl is to some extent substantiated by the fact that it 
is certain that de Burgh became Chancellor of Cambridge in 1384 
(see Cooper, i, p. 128). 

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its just measure of praise from the best French scholars. 
Quetif and fichard thought that with some alterations of 
language it would be as popular today as ever ; ^^ M. Leo- 
pold Delisle recognises it as "the manual of religious 
morals which had the greatest vogue during the last three 
centuries of the Middle Ages " ; ^® and M. Ch. V. Langlois 
calls it " ^ the Imitation of Christ ' of the thirteenth cen- 
tury, — of which several portions are certainly the master- 
pieces of mediaeval edifying literature." **^ To the virtues 
which it shares with the Somme — or the Miroir — the 
Speculum has added from the tract on the Pater Noster,^® 
or a conunon original, a superior structure, and from 
some source unknown — or the invention of its compiler — 
considerable realism of an amusing sort To the modem 
student, in any case, whatever the circumstances of its 
origin or whoever its author, it has great interest in offer- 
ing a complete mirror of the orthodox medisBval instruc- 

" Quoted in the HUtoire of Petit de JuUeviUe, n, p. 182. 

" Recherches 8ur la lihrairie de Charles V, Paris, 1907, p. 236. He 
is commenting on the set of illustrations which accompany the 
Somme in many copies, and are an interesting sig^ of its ciirrency 
among the rich. 

" Loo, oit. 

"It seems likely that this is an English production, though of 
course nothing definite can be arrived at on the subject. The six 
volumes of the Notices et extraits of B. Haur^u (Paris, 1890-3), 
probably the richest treasury available of information on such mat- 
ters, contain no reference to this work, and no manuscript has 
turned up during a fairly extended perusal of catalogues of manu- 
scripts in French libraries. M. Paul Meyer says {Bulletin, 1896, p. 
43, n.) that there are several expositions of the Pater Noster in 
French, " surtout " that of La Somme, and that at the beginxing of 
the Sermons of Maurice de Sully (on which see Romania, xxm, p. 
499). The Speculum uses an English proverb (" for men sayn on old 
englis," f. 138), and refers to the King of England (f. 147). Such 
references, however, could easily be added in the translation, and do 
not necessarily mean anything as to the source. 

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tion for laymen.^® By its attachment to the Pater Noster 
of the whole theol(^ and ethics of the Church, as they 
concerned laymen, it is a triumph of the mediaeval art of 
hanging a universal theology to the exposition of texts, and 
it would seem that its carefully articulated schematism ®^ 
solved the general problem of what might be called the 
architechtonics of the Summa for laymen, — which was a 
form of literature for which the ecclesiastical statutes kept 
alive the demand, and to some extent fixed the elements. 

The following parallel quotations will, it is hoped, illus- 
trate the preceding statements. 

The quotations from the Speculvmi are made from Ull- 
mann's article, in which he uses ms. LI. i. 8, supplemented 
by MS. li. I. 36, dated 1423 (one of the copies containing 
the note as to the examination). 

The quotations from the Mirror are made from Harl. 
MS. 45, of the early fifteenth century, originally the book 
of "Dame Margaret Brent." Two other copies of the 
fiifteenth century exist in the Bodleian library, viz.: E. 
Mus. 35, ff. 221-452^, and Rawl. ms. A. 356, both imper- 
fect at the beginning. 

The quotations from the tract on the Pater Noster are 
made from Bumey ms. 356, of the early fifteenth century, 

*• It is probably due to the superior quality of the elements out of 
which the Speculum is compounded, rather than to any superior 
talent in the compiler, that the Speculum is a work of distinctly 
better quality than the Prick of Conscience. 

'"The full intention operating in a work like the Speculum, with 
its — ^to us — over-elaborate connections, cannot be understood unless 
the mediaeval characteristic is understood which is signalised by M. 
Langlois in the following : " C'a 4t4 Pune des manies du moyen kge 
de croire fermement ft la valeur des machines intellectuelles et d'en 
confectionner beaucoup: machines mn^motechniques, machines ft pen- 
ser, machines ft prier, machines ft prficher" {L*4loquenoe saor^e, 
p. 193). 

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(ff. 8 ff.), in which it makes part of a compilation entitled 
Flos Florum, referred to by Gasquet^ as a "manual in 
twenty-five books, the first being on the Lord's Prayer." '^ 
The only other reference to the work is one made in Horst- 
mann's Yorkshire Writers,^^ in which he notes the text in 
Harl. MS. 1022, and gives it to Richard Rolle for no visible 
reason. Other copies are Harl. ms. 1648, Addit. ms. 15, 
237 — ^both at the British Museum — and ms. Eawl. C. 72, 
ff. 137 ff. 

The quotations from the Miroir are made from Cha- 
vannes' edition. All the passages here quoted occur also 
in the 8omme, in the text found in Addit. ms. 28, 162, of 
the British Museum, — ^which is the manuscript of the work 
here used. 

The openings of the Speculum and Mirror are as 

Speoulwn Mirror 

"Almy^ty god in trinite/' . . . "Fore Mt is bo )>at all man- 

— ^After the invocation, and an kynde in this world nys but in 

apology for the author's imper- exile and wildemesse out of his 

fections, he goes on: kyndely contre, or as is a pil- 

*' I wame 30W f erst at J>e begyn- grym or a weyf aring man in a 

nyng, Strang londe where he may in 

I wil make no veyn spekyng no manere abide. But nedely 

Of dedes of armes ne of amoiirs, euery day, euery houre^ and euery 

Os don mynstreles and o)^r ges- tyme is passynge on his way." 

tours, .... Our goal is one of two 

)>at make spekyng in many a cities, Babylon or Jerusalem, 

place which are in turn described and 

Of Octouian and Isanbrace.'' . . interpreted with quotations from 

(11. 35 f.) the Meditations of St. August- 

— After a few similar lines and ine. "And for man may not 

some accoimt of the edifying knowe in whiche of these two 

^ Op. cit,, p. 175. He apparently neglects to observe that the notes 
in Harl. ms. 1648, to which he refers (p. 173), are the same w<H:k. 
•London, 1894, n, p. 157. 

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substitute which he off ers, comes 

the following: 

"In English tonge I schal 30W 

^ 3e wyth me so longe wil 

Ko Latyn wil I speke no waste, 
But English, )>at men vse mast." 

(U. 61 f.) 
An interesting discussion of this 
subject follows; after which the 
Speculum joins the Mirror, as 
"And swyche a lessoun I schal 

30W jeue, 
)>at myrour of lyf to 30W may be, 
In >e whiche ^e may al ^owre 

lyf se. 
First I wyl speke of )>e gret 

Of )7e Pater Noster, ]>at cometh 

of it. 
And of pe fruyt and dignyte 
Of J'at pray^er, os men may se. 
And specially of >e seuene ask- 

|>at on >e Pater Noster henges. 
And of >e seuene ^yftes of )>e 

holy gost, 
I'at ]>e seuene. askynges may to 

YS haste. 
And of )>e seuene synnes, >at 

most may smerte, 
J>at )>e seuene 3yf tes putten out 

of herte. 
And specially of l^evertues seuene, 
>at may be set in here stede 

And of )>e seuene blessyd hedes, 
To whiche >e seuene vertuwes 

▼s ledes. 
And of >e seuene medes aJle, 
)>at of \>e blessedhedys schulde 

faUe; (11. 92 f., pp. 4«8f.) 

weyes he gop ynne ne whider- 
ward he is, but he knowe what 
is vertu, and what is synne. 
Therfore )>is writyng is thus 
made for lewed and menliche 
lettred men and wymmen in 
suche tonge as I'd can best vn- 
derstonde. And may be deped 
a myrour to lewde men and 
wymmen, in whiche they may 
see god J'orgh stedfast by leue, 
and hem self >orgh mekenes, and 
what is vertu, and what is synne. 
. . . This writyng schal be 
gynne with ]>at holy prayer )>at 
criste him self made and taghte, 
)>at is the Pater Noster, as the 
gospel berith witnesse. And first 
in this writyng shal be schewed 
pe profyte and fruigt and pe 
dignyte of the holy prayer, the 
Pater noster. Afterward ]>e 
seuen askynges >at ben in the 
Pater noster. And pe seuen 
^iftes of pe holy goost >at we 
asketh )>erby. And >e seuen hede 
synnes )>at tho seuen ^iftes put- 
ten away. And )>e seuen ver- 
tues >at the seuen ^iftes setten 
in the stede of )>e seuen synnes. 
And >e seuen blissedhedes J^at 
the seuen vertues bringe)> vs to. 
And also >e seuen medes )>at 
bringeth to )>e seuen blissed- 
hedis." (f. 8f.) 

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The Somme and the Miroir, as has already been stated, 
put the exposition of the Pater Noster towards the end of 
the whole. The Miroir, however, (p. 30) bears some rela- 
tion to the English works in stating its title at the begin- 
ning, though in terms that bear them no special relation. 
The tract on the Pater Noster, as has already been noted, 
gives the arrangement found in the Speculum and Mirror. 
It is headed by the following summary : " Hie incipit com- 
pendiosus tractatus de utilitate orationis dominice, in quo 
breuiter tractatur de vii peticionibus eiusdem. . . . Item 
de vii donis spiritus sancti. . . . Item de vii peccatis mor- 
talibus. . . . Item de vii virtutibus principalibus. . . . 
Item de vii beatitudinibus et eorum meritis" (f. 8.).®^ 
Both the tract and the French treatises are used in the re- 
mainder of the introduction, as the following quotations 
will show: 

Speculum Mirror 

)>e Pater Noster first men lerys, Firste men scholen vndirstonde 

For it is heued of alle prayeres. )>at )>e Pater Noster is heed of 

It is a pray^er most suffysaunt all prayers, and >e moste suffi- 

To alle )>e )>at it wyl hawunt, sant and most siker for this lyf 

And most syker, wher we go, and )>at other. Wherfore eche 

For |>i8 lyf and )>e to)>er al so; cristen man by comandement of 

Where fore eche man, )>at has holy chirche schal lerne lyis 

tane prayer. And who so wol not 

Trewthe of baptesme at >e lerne hit he despiseth goddes 

fount stane, lawe. And >erfore it is the 

Irnt prayere schulde lere and firste thing of lettrure )>at is 

entente taght to children. This prayer 

"The Somme and Miroir (p. 248) make a similar concatenation of 
subjects, but in the middle of the whole work. It should be noted 
that the present list by no means exhausts the subjects of the Specu- 
lum, for they include almost every category developed by mediaeval 
schematicism. Some impression of its range may be gained by exami- 
nation of its derivative, " The Desert of Religion " ( Herrig*s Archiv, 
cxxvn, pp. 388 f ., where I point out the relation between the two 
works, and ibid., csxxvi, pp. 58 ff., where the text is given). 

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Thorow lioly chyrches comande- 

And )>ei, )>at wyl nowt lere nor 

)>at prayer, despysen goddes 

J>ere fore pe maner is to loke: 
Whan a chyld ia set to boke, 
pe Pater Noster he schal first 

For it ismostpreciouseprayere; 
pB,t lessoun good almyghty 
Tawte hys dessiples specially; 
pere fore may it be ryht calde 
Codes prayere, os we it halde. 
Where fore, )>at vnderstonden 

)>is lessoun, os )>ei schulde be 

lyei schulde become bo)>e meke 

and myld 
And debonere, os ony chylde. 
Swyche ben pe verray scoleres 

Of oure wys maister, god al- 

J>at, OS hys wysdom ofte hem 

And techeth hem os hys owne 

But we may fynde many a man, 
)>at pe naked lettre can 
Of J>is prayere, l>at Cryst wrowt. 
But pe vnderstondeng can J>ei 

)>ere fore hem thynketh, it 

sauowreth pe lesse. 
For )>ere Inne fele )>ei no swet- 

For lytel deuociown hauen l>ei 
In pe Pater Noster, whan l>ei it 

But who so vnderstonde it wylle, 
A swete pray^ere may >ei fele. 
(11. 113 ff.) 

taghte oure lord ihesu crist to 
his disciples and l>erfore it is 
cleped goddes prayer. And who 
so wil vnderstonde )>is prayer, 
he scholde be meke and mylde 
and debonaire; ffor such bel> the 
verray scolers of oure lord god. 
Many man conne pe naked lettre 
of this prayer, but noght pe 
vnderstondyng, and )>erfore it is 
to hem sauorles. Wherfore pey 
seyn hit with litel deuocion or 
none. And so it is to hem litel 
or no profite. But who so vnder- 
stondith it wel, he schal fynde 
J>erynne moche swetnesse and 
perfite deuocion. (f.3b.) 

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Pater Noster 

Pater Nosier tanquam caput 
omnium orationum euidenter ap- 
probatiir. Quia ex sui virtute 
quantum ad omnia nobis neces- 
saria pro vita presenti et futura 
petenda sufficere videtur. Quam 
quidem orationem vnusquisque 
christianus tam ex precepto 
quam ex oonsilio ecdesie scire et 
intelligere tenetur. Nam qui il- 
1am orationum scire negligit, 
doctrinam dei manifeste con- 
tempnit. lodrco paruulus quum 
de nouo ad librum apponitur, 
primo adiscit Pater noster. Nam 
istam lecdonem dominus noster 
ihesus christus docuit discipulos 
suos. Ideo merito dicitur ora- 
tio dominica. 

Vnde qui istam doclrinam scire 
et intelligere voluerunt, erunt 
humiles yt paruuli Tales enim 
sunt veri scolares sapientissimi 
domini nostri ihesu christi quos 
de sui doctrina instruit et infor- 
mat. Multi tamen mimdani lit- 
teram istius orationis sciunt et 
intelligunt, sed eius sentenciam 
totaliter nesdunt. HU vero in 
ea modicum senciimt saporem et 
qui nullam deuocionis dulcedi- 
nem sed qui bene et recte intelli- 
gunt orationem predictam ipsam 
ut mel m ore senciunt dulcissi- 


Quant on met un enfant & 
Fescole, au commencement on li 
aprent sa Patrenostre. Qui de 
ceste dergie veut aprendre, de- 
vidgne humble comme enfant. 
Quer ft tiex escoliers aprent nos- 
tre bon maistre Ihucrist ceste 
clergie, qui est la plus b6le et la 
plus pourfitable, quant on Pen- 
tent, et la retient. Quer tel le 
cuide bien savoir et entandre, 
qui onques rien sot f ors Pescorce, 
par dehors. 

Cest la leitre qui bonne est; 
mais poc vaut auregartdunojel 
qui est par dedans si doux. 
(p. 260) 

In conclusion, some account will be given of the treat- 
ment in the two English works of the " Ninth Branch of 
Avarice," along with the very meagre references to the 
same subject in the Pater Noster and the Miroir. As may 
be guessed from the outline given below, this material, 

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wliich will be seen to be for the most part lacking in the 
available sources, makes one of the very best portions of 
the English poem and treatise, — in fact, it may be said to 
be one of the most entertaining descriptions of the familiar 
life of the time to be found in a Middle English theological 
work.'^ It should be noted, however, that an apparent 
abridgment of their treatment of Avarice is one of the 
grounds for postulating a larger Summa behind the French 
treatises.'*^ This ultimate source may therefore have been 
responsible for the fuller descriptions found in the Eng- 
lish derivatives. 

The English works treat the subject at length under the 
following heads: 

the Mirror, " draw- 


common women. 






" snecke-drawers," (in 


"), or "robert8men."«« 










hangmen. {Speculum, 

**Part of this section of the poem was printed by Dr. Furnivall, 
7fote9 and Queries, 4th Series, m, pp. 169, 189. 

•Fowler, p. 88. 

** Warton quotes a statute of Edward III (an. reg. 5) confirmed by 
Richard II (on. reg, 7) against '' roberdesmen " and *' drawlacches " 
(n, p. 271, n. 3). 

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Pater Noater, 

Malum artificium, 
quo utuntur mere- 
trices, ribaldi, his- 
triones, theolena- 
rii, ioculatores, et 

(f. 16.) 


A la deerraine 
(tenth) branche de 
convoitise apartien- 
nent tous les mau- 
vais mestiers que on 
aprent et maintient, 
pour gaaigner. Si 
comme de ces fans 
courretiers qui ne fl- 
uent de gent engigi- 
ner, et de cea cham- 
pions qui s'entretuent 
pour deniers, et ces 
faus monoiers et de 
ceus qui font les d^ 
et les chapiauB de 
fleurs. (p. 151) 


La nouieme branche 
dauarice est mauvaiz 
mestier. En ce pe- 
chent mult de genz 
et en mout de mani- 
eres; comme font ce 
fols femes qui pour vn 
pou de gaaing saban- 
donent a pechie. Ausi 
comme cil heraut et 
cil champion et mout 
dautres qui pour de- 
niers ou por preu 
temporel sabandon- 
nent a mestier des- 
honeste qui ne peut 
estre faiz sanz pechie. 
(Brit. MuB. Addit. 

MS. 28, 162, f. 30)*' 

Hope Emily Allen. 

''It may be noted that the unidentified French treatise found in 
a Christ Church fragment by F. Y. Powell {Modem Language Quar- 
terly, n, p. 21 f.) is the Somme or Miroir. — ^A word should be said in 
reference to the puzzling copy of the Speculum in Addit. ms. 22, 283 
of the British Museum containing a couplet at the end giving 
the title " Prikke of Consciaice," which was quoted in my former 
article j(pp. 168-9). An examination of this manuscript and the 
Vernon ms. of the Bodleian, which seems to be its prototype, shows 
the soiirce of the lines in question. In the Vernon ms. the couplet 
headed the Prick of Conscience, which there directly followed the 
Speculum, The scribe of the copy inserted a new piece between the 
two poems, and attached the rhymed title to the earlier, though it 
belonged to the later. 

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Stage history has generally been regarded by the student 
of the arts as a thing apart. It has been assumed that the 
stage has developed its own art, influenced only by the art 
of the stage in other lands or in other times. In general, 
this assumption seems to me unjustified. Eather, the stage 
should, I believe, be regarded as giving expression in its art 
to the dominant artistic theory of the time. It is only in 
its medium of expression that the art of the stage differs 
from the other arts ; its fundamental artistic theory is that 
held in common with the other arts. Certainly, it seems 
to me, it is only in this fashion that one can account for the 
changes in the theory of dramatic presentation that came 
about within the compass of the eighteenth century. It is 
my purpose in this paper, therefore, to show the develop- 
ment of the theory of acting in England in the eighteenth 
century, and to show that in its development the theory of 
acting followed the general artistic theory of the day. 

W'ith more or less accuracy the stage history of the eight- 
eenth century may be divided into four periods : the first 
extending from about 1690 to 1741 and characterized by 
the following of tradition and by the acceptance of conven- 
tionalized tone and gesture on the stage ; the second lasting 
from 1741 to 1776, and marked by a revolt against the 
ideas of the preceding period and by the use of imitative 
acting; the third, from 1776 to 1782, serving as a transi- 
tion period ; the fourth, persisting after 1782 through the 
early years of the nineteenth century and distinguished by 
the acceptance of the "grand style" on the stage. The 
first period is the period of classicism; the second the 


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period of realistic romanticiBm ; the fourth the period of 
the romanticism of the "grand style" and akin to the 
classical romanticism of English literature. 

It must be remembered that from 1660 through the 
eighteenth century, all discussion relative to the manner 
of stage delivery centered about two points: (1) the fol- 
lowing of tradition in acting a character, and (2) the 
style of declamation to be adopted in the delivery of trag- 
edy. Strangely enough, the pervading idea of tragedy as 
the teacher of morals, and comedy as the teacher of man- 
ners seems so to have affected the theory of stage delivery 
as to have made the natural delivery of comedy a matter 
of course, while about the matter of tragic utterance a 
continuous battle of critics and actors raged. It was in- 
evitable, then, that the artistic theory of the time should 
find expression in laws relative to these matters. 

The Period of Classicism: The Acceptance of 

The zeal with which contemporary writers ascribed an 
unvarying excellence to the post-Bestoration actors some- 
times challenges skepticism. But the source of the at- 
tributed excellence cannot be denied, once the major prem- 
ise of the syllogism of critical judgment be allowed. It 
was assumed that the author of plays knew how they 
should be acted, and that his interpretation of his own 
characters was not only the most accurate, but also the most 
effective interpretation. According to this assumption, 
the author knew not only how to interpret life in his dra- 
mas, but also how to re-interpret these dramas in action. 
Necessarily, then, the acting of a character should be 
based upon the traditional following of the author's in- 
structions to the first player of the part, and the closer 

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the imitation of the older actor by the younger, the better 
was his presentation of the part. In this way we find 
Downes accounting for the superior excellence of Better- 
ton, in chronicling the 1662 performance of Hamlet: 

The Tragedy of Hamlet; Hamlet being Perform'd by Mr. Betterton, 
Sir WiUiam (having seen Mr. Taylor of the Blaok-FryarB CcHnpany 
Act it, who being instructed by the Author Mr. Shakespeur) taught 
Mr. BeHerton in every Particle of it; which by his exact Perform- 
ance of it, gain'd him Esteem and Reputation, Superlative to all 
other plays.* 

Of Henry VIII y performed a little later, he adds: 

The part of the Eling was so right and justly done by Mr. Better- 
ton, he being Instructed in it by Sir WilHctm, who had it from Old 
Mr. Lowen, that had his Instructions from Mr. Shakespear himself, 
that I dare and will aver that none can, or will come near him in 
this Age, in the performance of that part: ' 

Mrs. Betterton is said to have been famed for her act- 
ing in Shakespeare's plays, particularly for her Ophelia, 
of which character Sir William Davenant gave her some , ^ 

idea from his memory of the boy Ophelias who acted be- • '. '" 
fore the civil wars.' 

In the dialogue of James Wright, Historia Histrior^a, 
the first edition of which was issued in 1699, we "find 
furflier evidence of this theory. One of the characters, 
Lovewit, declares that the actors of the present age are 
(some few excepted) inferior t<) H^ct, Mohun, and others 
of the preceding age. Trlieman replies that those were 
again inferior to the players before the war — ^Lowin, Tay- 
lor, Pollard, etc. Lovewit replies : 

^RosciuB Anglicanue. A facsimile reprint of the rare original of 
1708. Lcmdon, J. M. Jarvis and Son, 1886, p. 21. 

•/Wd., p. 24. 

'Thomas Davies, Dramatio Misoellamee (London, 1784), vol. in, 
p. 126. 

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I am willing to believe it but cannot readily; because I have been 
told, that those whom I mention'd, were bred up under the others of 
your acquaintance, and foUow'd their manner of action, which is 
now lost: So far, that when the question has been ask'd. Why these 
players do not revive the Silent Wpman, and some others of Jon- 
son's plays? (once of highest esteem), they have answered, Truly, 
because there are none living who can rightly humour those parts; 
for all who related to the Blackfriers, (where they were acted in 
perfection) are now dead and almost forgotten.* 

Colley Gibber gives an account of an affair of 1694 in 
the playhouses which shows how far this theory of author- 
ity in acting a part persisted. The Lincoln's Inn Fields 
playhouse announced Hamlet for Tuesday. Drury Lane 
thereupon announced Hamlet for Monday. In retaliation 
Lincoln's Inn Fields proposed Hamlet also for Monday. 
Drury Lane replied by putting on at six hours' notice the 
play previously advertised for Lincoln's Inn Fields, The 
Old Bachelor. Powell performed his part in imitation of 
Betterton, who had the part at the other house, while the 
then untried Gibber dressed, talked, and acted the part of 
Alderman Fondlewife after the manner of Dogget at the 
rival house. *^ 

The result of this theory of the necessary transmission 
of the interpretation of the character from actor to actor 
was that the interpretation became fixed, and that acting 
was considered a matter of mere study. Thus Anthony 
Aston in his Brief Supplement to Colley Cibber says of 
Mrs. Verbruggen: 

She was all art, and her acting acquired, but she dressed it so nice, 
it looked like nature; there was not a look, a motion, but what were 
all designed; and these at the same word, period, incident, were 

♦In Dodsl^, A Select Collection of Old Plays (London, 1780), 
vol. xn, p. 339. 

•An Apology for the Life of Mr. Colley Cihher, Oomedi(m onS 
Patentee of the Theatre Royal, Written by himself. (Ed. BeU- 
chambers, London, 1822), pp. 208-215. 

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every night in the same character alike, and yet all sat charmingly 
easy upon h«r.^ 

The immediate successor of Betterton in public esteem 
was Barton Booth. Apparently, however, Booth ventured 
to disregard tradition to a certain extent. Davies says of 
him that he, "though a professed admirer of Betterton 
almost to idolatry, had too much judgment to copy or 
servilely imitate his action." "^ That he dared to study 
and to interpret a character seems also to be implied in a 
sketch by Aaron Hill : " Two advantages distinguished 
him, in the strongest Light, from the rest of his Fraterni- 
ty : He had Learning to understand perfectly whatever it 
was his Part to speak: Judgment to know how far it 
agreed with his Character." ® 

These accounts, of course, may be interpreted as relat- 
ing to new characters, characters in new dramas. But of 
Antony Boheme, a follower of Booth, we find a more 
definite account : " As he was an original actor and not an 
auricular imitator, his manner of acting Lear was very 
different from that of Booth." ® 

However, the theory demanding the traditional acting 
of a part and reckoning a mechanical knowledge of a part 
as ability to act that part persisted alongside of these ap- 
parent variations. The Life of Quin contains this de- 
scription of the state of affairs in 1718 at the time when 
Quin came on the stage: 

Besides, the manager considered acting as a mere mechanical ac- 
quisition, that nothing hut time could procure; and therefore, every 

* Reprinted in Grolier Society Edition of CoUey Gibber. Of. voL 
n, p. 321. 

^ Dayies, I. c, vol. n, p. 278. 

'Quoted in Thomas Betterton, The History of ^he English Stage 
from the Retftoration to the Present Time (1741), p. 146. 

» Davies, I. o., vol. n, pp. 276, 277. 

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one in his company was to serve his apprenticeship before he 
attempted being even a journeyman actor. This accounts for Quin's 
remaining for a long time the mere scene drudge, the faggott of 
the drama.^ 

Aaron Hill in his preface to Zara (1735) protested 
against the " extraordinary concession " of the rulers of 
the stage of that day " that actors must he twenty years 
such, before they can expect to he masters of the air, and 
tread, of the Stage.'' " 

Such was the state of aflPairs when in 1741 there oc- 
curred the two most important events of the eighteenth 
century stage — ^the appearance of Macklin as Shylock, and 
the appearance of Garrick as Richard III. Macklin 
rescued Shylock from the comic interpretation earlier ac^ 
tors had given him, and in the face of much opposition 
attained success in his presentation of the character as a 
serious one. Garrick, too, re-interpreted Richard III. 
And these two ventures apparently established the freedom 
of interpretation on the stage, for the stage history of suc- 
ceeding years is largely a chronicle of varied readings, di- 
verse interpretations, and new excellences brought by the 
increasing stream of actors. 

Yet, ironically, these very actors seem to have estab- 
lished in many cases new traditions. Macklin was "the 
Jew that Shakespeare drew " to his generation, and the 
public refused to see any one else play the character. They 
likewise refused to see any other Falstaff than Quin.^^ 
And before Mrs. Abington quitted the stage. Miss Phillips, 
afterward Mrs. Crouch, is said to have attended her per- 

" The Life of Mr. James QtUn, Cotnedian, loith tJ^ History of the 
Stage from TUs Commencing Actor to hie Retreat to Bath (London, 
1766), p. 17. 

'^Cf. Works (1760), vol. i, pp. 24-26. 

" Davies, L o., vol. i, p. 232. 

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formances regularly on an order, expecting thenceforth to 
play after her manner.^' 

A pupil of Macklin, Dr. or Sir John Hill, published in 
1750 a book called The Actor, in which he discussed the 
theory of traditional acting. He says : 

We yet see those who, in the life-time of some of the old players 
of jH'eat name, were allowed to be like them; and we see in Mr. 
Garrick a person imlike to them all, and to every thing that has 
gone before him ; none has ever disputed whether he or they deserved 
the palm; and it is certain that he has formed himself by study, and 
they by imitation.** 

Later, in discussing the necessity for the actor's under- 
standing the author's meaning, Hill says also: 

It will be said, that imitation will supply the place of imderstand- 
ing, and that having observed in what manner another pronoimces 
any sentence, the performer may give it utterance in the same 
cadence; an ear answering the purposes of understanding. Too many 
players are of this opinion; but it is setting their profession very 
low, it is reducing that to a mechanical art which was intended to 
exert all the force of genius; but as it is contemptible, it is also 

Hill continues his attack by questioning how mere imi- 
tators can ever learn to act in new plays, and by instancing 
the necessity for getting away from old errors and for per- 
mitting new excellences. Where imitation rules, i3ie actor 
shows that he is but repeating a schoolboy's lesson, the 
meaning of which he has not taken pains to get, as might 
be seen in The Siege of Damascus, then playing. 

The public continued intermittently hostile to new in- 
terpretations even so late as Mrs. Siddons's time, when she 
made changes in the manner of acting Lady Macbeth in 
1785. But from the time when Macklin and Garrick ap- 

"W. J. Young, Memovra of Mrs, Crouch (London, 1806), vol. i, 
p. 165. 
^♦Ed. of 1756, p. 6. «/Md., p. 21. 

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peared in 1741, the right to re-interpretation was estab- 

In general, then, we find the actors of the post-Eestora- 
tion period tenaciously adhering to the doctrine of au- 
thority in the matter of character-interpretation on the 
stage. We find Booth and his follower, Boheme, depart- 
ing from this following of tradition. Meanwhile, the 
theory of traditional acting had resulted in a fixed inter- 
pretation of characters and in a mechanical art of acting. 
During the period when Quin was the leader of the stage 
these characteristics persisted. With Garrick and Mack- 
lin the right to go to nature herself, to re-interpret a play 
in the light of life itself, was established. The theory was 
formulated by Hill in his The Actor, and was not attacked, 
in spite of occasional resentments on the part of tie public 
where noticeable departures from accepted interpretations 
were made. 

The Period of Classicism : The Mode of Tragic 

Aside from the question of the traditional acting of a 
part, the question of the mode of tragic delivery loomed 
most important in eighteenth-century stage theory. As 
I have said, the pervading idea of tragedy as the teacher 
of morals, and comedy as the teacher of maimers seems to 
have caused the theatrical world to accept the natural reci- 
tation of comedy as a matter of course, while the mode of 
tragic delivery offered constant ground for dispute. 

The history of natural and artificial acting previous to 
the Restoration is a matter which I shall not attempt to 
discuss here. The post-Restoration actors, — Hart, Better- 
ton, Mrs. Barry, Mrs. Saunderson (afterwards Mrs. Bet- 
terton) particularly — ^were regarded, at least by their con- 

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temporaries as sincere interpreters of nature. *• By 
eighteenth-century critics and dabblers in theatrical his- 
tory they were similarly regarded. Davies says that we 
must suppose the actors of Shakespeare's time to have been 
capable of the portrayal of the variety of action and pas- 
sion revealed in his works.*^ The immediate followers 
of these players must have been able likwise to " hold the 
mirror up to nature." 

When, therefore, there crept into use a mode of tragic 
delivery totally at variance with all idea of natural speak- 
ing, it is diflScult to say. Anthony Aston in his Brief 
Supplement said of Mrs. Barry, " Neither she nor any of 
the actors of those times had any tone in their speaking 
(too much, lately, in use)." *® Yet in the preface to Dry- 
den's The Fairy Queen, adapted from Shakespeare's The 
Midsummer Night's Dream and published in 1692, occurs 
this passage: 

Sir WiUiam D'Avenant's Si^e of Rhodes, was the first opera we 
ever had in England, no man can deny; and is indeed a perfect 
opera, there being this difference only between an opera and a 
tragedy, that the one is a story sung with proper action, the other 
spoken. And he must be a very ignorant player, who knows not 
there is a musical cadence in speaking; and that a man may as well 
apeak out of tune as sing out of tune. 

The inference here clearly is that even in Betterton's time 
there was recognized a particular mode of speaking tragic 

Downes in speaking of the actors playing after 1706 
says of Wilks that he was 

''Pepys, Gibber, Aston, and others of the lesser writers furnish 
abundant evidence for this statement. Cf. Dibdin, A Complete His- 
tory of the Stage, vol. x, pp. 230, 231, for a summary. 

"Davies, I c, vol. i, pp. 33, 34. 

"Aston, I c, p. 311. 

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Proper and Ck>mel7 in Person, of Graceful Port, and Mein and 
Air; void of Affectation; his Elevation and Cadences just, C<Migruent 
to Elocution; Especially in Gentile Comedy; not Inferior in Tragedy. 
The Emission of his Words free, easy, and natural; Attracting 
attentive silence in his Audience, (I mean the Judicious) except 
where the Unnatural Rants, As 

rie mount the aky, 
And kick the — ds like footballs as I fly: 

As Poet D . . . rfy has it. 
Which puts the Voice to such Obstreperous sitretoh, 
Requires the Lungs of a Smith's BeUows to reach,^ 

The comment would seem, indeed, to indicate that Wilks 
conformed to an ideal of utterance somewhat at variance 
with that of mere natural delivery even in passages other 
than tie " Unnatural Rants " which so over-taxed his 
lungs. At least, the description, " his Elevation and Ca- 
dences just. Congruent to Elocution," is suggestive. 

Of Cibber, Downes says that he was equal to Mountfort 
in certain characters and " not much Inferior in Tragedy, 
had Nature given him Lungs Strenuous to his finisht 
Judgment." And that Downes differentiated comic and 
tragic delivery is certain from his description of Estcourt 
who " laetificates his audience in comedy (Nature endow- 
ing him with an easy, free, imaffected Mode of Elo- 
cution)." ^^ 

Aaron Hill in his dedication to The FaiaZ Visionj acted 
in 1716, spoke of the accustomed manner of the stage 
as being a " horrible, theatric way of speaking." He pro- 
tested that save in " Mr. Booth, who is, indeed, a just and 
excellent tragedian, you should never hear so much as an 
Endeavor at those thrilling breaks, and changes of the 
voice." 2^ 

Yet Dibdin speaks of Booth as having " in some degree 

"Downes, I. o., p. 61. 

*HiU, I. 0., vol. I, pp. 148, 149. 

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cramped nature by lacing the buskin too tight/' ^^ and 
Cooke tells us that Macklin said of Booth that ^^ though 
he repeated blank verse in the solemn articulate manner 
of that day, there was a roundness and melody in his 
voice which was remarkably pleasing." ^^ 

Apparently, then, this fashion of tragic delivery was 
accepted during the decade preceding the opening of the 
eighteenth century, though it seems probable that it had 
been gradually introduced. As we elhall see later, it gained 
definite authority during the years just previous to Gar- 
rick's appearance, when Quin was dictator of the stage. 
And whether it is significant or no, it is interesting to note 
that the famous speech of Hamlet to the players, which 
was used as a text by all later advocates of natural acting, 
was not spoken on the stage from the death of Betterton 
until the time when it was revived by Garrick.^' 

To define this change and to trace the sources contribut- 
ing to bring it about is, then, our immediate concern. 

We saw that Aston spoke of toning words in describing 
the habits of his day. Davies described the acting of the 
generation preceding Qttrrick as characterized by " eleva- 
tion of the voice, with a sudden mechanical depression of 
its tones, calculated to excite admiration and to intrap 
applause."^* Foote quotes Sir John Hill's On Stage 
Recitation, which referred to "the recitative of the old 
tragedy " and chronicled " the gestures forced, and beyond 
all that ever was in nature, and the recitative was a kind 
of singing." ^^ Murphy says that when Garrick came, 

"Dibdin, I. o., voL iv, pp. 419, 420. 

''W. Cooke, Memoirs of Charles Maoklm (1806), p. 16. 

" Davies, I, c, vol. ni, p. 80. 

^Thomas Davies, Memoirs of the Life of D<wid Oarrick, Esq. 
(Lcmdon, 1780), vol. i, p. 40. 

"WiUiam Cooke, Memoirs of Bamuel Foote, Esq. (1806), vol. i, 
pp. 38, 39. 

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"tragedy roared in a most unnatural strain; rant was 
passion; whining was grief; vociferation was terror, and 
drawling accents were the voice of love/' ^* 

Of Quin we find numerous descriptions that in a measure 
reveal his style of declamation, Davies said of him that 
though he was " a very natural reciter of plain and fami- 
liar dialogue, he was utterly unqualified for the striking 
and vigorous characters of tragedy." ^"^ He described also 
Quin's manner of " heaving up his words, and his labored 
action." ^® Elsewhere this same writer said of Quin in 
Macbeth that he was "deficient in animated utterance, 

and wanted flexibility of tone During the whole 

representation he scarce ever deviated from a dull, heavy, 
monotony." *® Cumberland described him thus : " With 
very little variation of cadence, and in a deep, full tone, 
accompanied by a sawing kind of action, which had more 
of the senate than of the stage in it, he rolled out his hero- 
ics with an air of dignified indifference." His Cato and 
his Brutus were to be remembered with pleasure; his 
Richard and his Lear were to be forgotten, according to 
this author.*^ Kirkman described him as "stiff in his 
manner and heavy in his deportm^it." ** He reported 
Macklin as having thought Quin's declamation fine though 
somewhat pompous. And of his Othello, Kirkman said that 
" his person was clumsy, his declamation heavy, his pas- 

* Arthur Murphy, The Life of David Oa^rrich, Esq. (London, 1801), 
vol. I, p. 17. 

•* Davies, Life of D, G., vol. i, p. 28. 
"/bid., p. 40. 

* Davies, Dram, Mis., vol. n, p. 133. 

"Quoted in Joseph Knight, David Oarrick (London, 1894), pp. 
62, 63. 

"James Kirkman, Memoirs of the Life of Charles Macklin, Esq. 
(London, 1799), vol. i, p. 469. 

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sions bellowing, his emphasis affected, and his under 
strokes growling.'' •* 

That this recitative was used only in tragedy seems, 
however, certain, Boaden, who could remember many of 
the old players, and who knew the stage world of the late 
eighteenth century intimately and hence knew the tra- 
ditions of the stage, said: 

I have always observed, that the comic actors delivered it [the 
blank verse of Shakespeare, Fletcher, Jonson, and Massinger] with- 
out an appearance of stiffness, and they appeared to be talking it as 
their natural speech; while their tragic brethren, in the same play, 
and in the same scene, assumed Burke's Falsetto invariably, and with 
an air of superiority too, which the very attempt forfeited alto- 

Only one reasoned-out definition of this monotony was 
written, so far as I have been able to discover. Sir John 
Hill in his The Actor of 1750 wrote of monotony: 

Of this fault there are three distinct kinds. The one is an eternal 
sameness of tone and pronunciation: this is the fault of only the 
worst players, and always arises from their attempts at the declama- 
tory manner. The second, is a sameness in the close of all periods; 
this the old players seem to have been, in general, guilty of. The 
third kind of monotony is, a repetition of the same accents and in- 
flections, on all occasicms. This is too much the fault of the most 
considerable of the present players.** 

We may conclude, then, that late in the seventeenth 
century and early in the eighteenth century there grew up 
a new mode of tragic declamation; that it differentiated 
tragedy from comedy in its delivery, elevating tragedy to 
a more dignified, more pompous kind of utterance, the 
conventions of w'hich were fixed. These conventions seem 

••/W<i., vol. I, p. 328. 

"* James Boaden, The Life of Mrs, Jordan (London, 1831), vol. n, 
pp. 22, 23. 
••Ed. of 1756, p. 246. 

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to have related both to voice and to geflture. The words 
were spoken with rhythmic utterance, and the voice was 
elevated to a definite pitch. The gestures were formal, 
grand, and dignified. But the distinguishing feature was 
the acceptance of formalism and convention as consistent 
with and even essential to the dignity of tragedy in just 
the same way in whidi we accept the artificial gesttires, 
walk, and other conventions of grand opera. Indeed, if 
we could imagine grand opera recited or intoned rather 
than sung, we should probably come near to picturing a 
tragedy delivered in the time of Quin. 

How this change came to be is uncertain, since no writer 
of the time has told us anything of it. Two sources are, 
however, conjectured for the change. The first source is 
the French stage. The second is the compulsion of the 
rhymed tragedies which were being produced at this time. 

In a late thesis entitled Oarrick: A Cosmopolitan Actor, 
by F. A. Hedgcock, this style of declamation is said to have 
come from France, the influence of which country had been 
felt in dramatic matters since the Restoration. Mr. Hedg- 
cock says that Voltaire's definition of French tragedy as 
^^conversation in five acts" had represented a state of 
affairs necessarily influential in matters of stage delivery. 
Many of the plays were in the rhyme and style of the 
French classical drama, "which the actor, advancing to 
the front of the stage, recited in rhythmic fashion with 
conventional gestures and in absolute indifference to the 
movements of his companions in the theatre." ^^ Knight, 
also, in his David Oarrick attributed this change to French 

That tragedies of the time were necessarily recited in 
artificial fashion is found, too, as a doctrine oft repeated. 

•Page 43. "Pages 26, 26. 

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Sir Jolin Hill said that monotony was often the fault of 
the author in dosing the sense with the rhyme, and he 
suggested that a remedy for the evil be found in run-on 
lines, etc 

Davies analyzed the relation much more closely. In 
comparing a scene between Sporza and Francisco in Mas- 
singer's Duke of Milan with a scene between Shakespeare's 
John and Hubert, he says: 

In Massinger, eloquent language and unbroken periods give eaay 
assistance to the speaker, and calm and undisturbed pleasure to the 
hearer: In Shakespeare, the abrupt hints, half -spoken meanings, 
hesitating pauses, passionate interruptions, and guilty looks, require 
the utmost skill of the actors while they alarm and terrify the 

Elsewhere Davies pointed out the fact that the increase 
and decline of this intoning style of declamation might be 
allied to the progress of dramatic history. He noted Dry- 
den's heroic tragedies as the first in rhyme, and commented 
on the beginning of natural diction irAU for Love, natural 
diction being completely restored with Otway. Meanwhile, 
among the revived plays popularity had first been granted 
to Ben Jonson, then to Beaumont and Fletcher, and finally 
to Shakespeare.^® 

On the other hand, Kirkman makes this artificial fashion 
of speaking the cause of Eowe's monotony and his jingling 
rhymes at the end of the acts of The Fair Penitent^^ 

Whether in any case these relations of cause and effect 
can ever be proved definitely, I very much doubt. But it 
it certain that some relation must and does exist between 
the style of dramatic writing and the style of acting. A 
drama written in rhymed couplets cannot be spoken fit- 

'^ Dram, Mis., vol. i, p. 61. "* Kirkman, I, c, vol. i, p. 347. 

"•/WA, vol. in, pp. 164-190. 

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tingly in the broken and chatty fashion of ordinary dia- 
logue. However, rather than make any attempt to differ- 
entiate cause and effect, I should prefer to reckon both 
plays and acting as manifestations of lihe classical theory 
of tragedy prevalent at the time, a theory undoubtedly 
influenced by the artificially created French classical 

The Period of Realistic Romanticism 

From some time about 1690 until 1741, this style of 
acting, which we may fairly call classical, dominated the 
English stage. The period of its dominance almost exactly 
coincided with the period of the so-called classicism in 
English literary history. But in the art of the stage as in 
the other arts there were already at work during the period 
of the greatest acceptance given to this classicism forces 
which were to make for the dissolution of this school of 
acting, forces which pointed to a romanticism on the stage 
as definite and as well marked as the coming romanticism 
of the other arts. 

In 1716 in his dedication to The FcM Vision Aaron 
Hill had protested against the customary maimer of speak- 
ing on the stage as being opposed to nature. And as early 
as 1725 Charles Macklin had made an unappreciated effort 
to introduce the natural style of acting upon the stage. 
He later described the result of his effort, " I spoke so 
familiar. Sir, and so little in the hoity-toity tone of the 
Tragedy of that day, that the Manager Rich told me I had 
better go to grass for another year or two." Acting upon 
this advice, he went to the provinces for a few years, but 
1733 saw him established in London. When he returned, 
he apparently had not lost faith in the justice of his cause, 
and he continued to " speak so familiar " that he was not 

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given a chance to do mucli harm in the theatre for the next 
few years.*^ 

Between the years 1734 and 1736, Aaron Hill, a person 
of excellent theories and varied interests, issued a paper 
known as the Prompter, in which he made critical com- 
ment on the actors and acting of the time. In 1735 this 
same Aaron Hill proposed to establish a school of acting 
to be called a tragic academy. This school was to be under 
the protection and supervision of a group of the literary 
folk of the city, with Thomson, the author of The Seasons 
as chief among them. The school was to be under the pa- 
tronage of Frederick, Prince of Wales. But unfortunately 
His Royal Highness declined the proposed honor, and the 
tragic academy never materialized. NTevertheless, the pro- 
posal is interesting, in the first place, because it shows 
that the stage-folk and the literary coterie of the time were 
making tentative efforts to work together in what was in- 
tended as a scheme for reforming the stage practice of the 
time; and in the second place, because it shows that there 
was developing a new theory in regard to acting, and that 
this theory was to be influenced by Thomson.*^ 

In 1738 David Garrick came up to London and very 
soon formed a sincere friendship for the actor Macklin, 
with whom he spent much time. These two must have 
found opportunity for much converse on the subject of 
acting, and it is impossible not to suppose that the younger 
actor was influenced by the notions of natural acting dear 
to the older one. 

It was not until 1741 that the threatened revolt of the 
theorists culminated in actual achievement, however. But 
on February 14, 1741, Macklin made his famous appear- 

^ William Cooke, Memoirs of CharlcB Macklin, Comedian (2nd 
ed., 1806), pp. 12, 13. 
*» Davies, Life of D. G^., vol. i, chap. xm. 

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ance in The Merchant of Venice, rescuing Shylock from 
humorous treatment and attempting to present the charac- 
ter realistically even in the matter of costume.*^ The new 
presentation of this character was at once popular, and 
through it Macklin became established as one of the great 
actors of his time, his popularity finally resulting in his 
coming into demand as a teacher of his art, as we shall see 

On October 19, 1741, the then unknown Garrick like- 
wise made his appearance in Richard III at Goodman's 
Fields Theatre. He, too, adopted the natural manner of 
declaiming tragic verse. And it took. Blessed by the gods 
with the divine fire of genius that had been denied to Mack- 
lin, he at once caused a furore among critics and populace 
that Macklin with the same methods had not been able to 
produce. Macklin was elated, however, at the success of 
his ideas as he saw them embodied in this young actor; 
Gibber disapproved of the whole thing; Pope foresaw 
triumph for the new interpretation, and Quin was startled 
into the oft-told exclamation, " By G — d. Sir, if this young 
fellow is right, then we have all been wrong." In general, 
the players resented this encroachment upon the dignity 
of tragedy and upon the conventional mode of its presenta- 
tion. But all in vain. The hearers might be startled, or 
incredulous, or hostile, or enthusiastic, or merely curious, 
as their various temperaments decreed ; there could be no 
doubt of the overwhelming popularity of the new style as it 
was embodied in Garrick. As Garrick prophesied in his 
reply to Quin's denunciation of the heresy, it came to be 
not heresy but reformation. 

Cooke in his Life of Macklin described the alteration 
wrought by Garrick on this night as that of " changing an 

^ Eirkman, {. o,, vol. i, pp. 253-266. 

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elevated tone of voice, a mechanical depression of its tones, 
and a formal measured step in traversing the stage, into 
an easy familiar maimer of speaking and acting." In a 
day the new era of the stage art was begun; by a single per- 
formance the new method of presenting tragedy was popu- 
larized and its acceptance assured.^* 

Early in 1742 Garrick threw down the gauntlet to " the 
old school " by acting Bayes in the Duke of Buckingham's 
Eehearaal, mocking the style of acting of all the principal 
performers of the time (Quin excepted). ** It was fitting 
to the eighteenth century that the vehicle of reform should 
be ridicule, for it was in this fashion that the reactions 
against heroic tragedy, against sentimental comedy, against 
opera, against the later fad for elocution, all found ex- 
pression; and Garrick found this travesty on the older 
acting a potent force in securing the adoption of the new. 

In 1742, also, Garrick went to Drury Lane as the great 
attraction of that theatre. From this time the name of 
Garrick is always to be associated with that of this play- 

In 1744, consequent to a quarrel between Macklin and 
Garrick, Macklin withdrew to the Haymarket Theatre, 
and there trained would-be actors, introducing them on 
that stage. He thus became the first professional teacher 
of acting in this period. His method was chiefly concerned 
with breaking his pupils of their artificial habits of speak- 
ing. He bade them first to speak a part as they would in 
life if occasion required, then to pronounce the words in 

*The account has been repeated with variations by every chroni- 
cler of things theatric, but Cooke's description (cf. pp. 98, 99) is 
particularly interesting, because it stresses Macklin's interest in the 
success of Garrick. 

44 John Genest, Some Account of the English Stage, from the 
Restoration in 1660 to 1830 (Bath, 1832), vol. iv, pp. 20-22. 


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exactly the same tone and with exactly the same expression, 
but to use more force, and to speak more loudly. He gave 
also lectures on grace, which he rendered ridiculous by his 
own awkward illustration of them, but which are import- 
ant as indicating a new interest in stage deportment. In 
this fashion Macklin worked out a real science of acting, 
but a reconciliation with the managers and a consequent re- 
turn to Drury Lane broke up the school. Meanwhile he 
had had among his pupils the actor Foote and Dr. or Sir 
John Hill.« 

In 1746 Foote produced at the Haymarket his Diver- 
sions of the Morning, further popularizing the ridicule of 
the actors of the day. In this same year Aaron Hill wrote 
The Art of Acting, Deriving rules for a new principle for 
touching the passions in a natural maruner. 

In 1747 Grarrick became manager of Drury Lane and 
thus established the natural school of acting in a place of 
supremacy. His professed desire as manager was to revive 
dramatic poetry, particularly that of Shakespeare. 

In 1748 Macklin, Garrick, and Mrs. Woffington "re- 
solved to improve theatrical taste, and found a school of 
Histrionic Science.'' They resolved to live together, to 
act together, and to have one purse. But the one purse 
proved the undoing of the scheme, and the world was de- 
prived of this school also.*® 

*o See especially Cooke, Macklm, pp. 148, 149, and Kirkman, I. o., 
vol. I, pp. 292-295. 

*• Kirkman, I. o., vol. i, p. 316. 

It is interesting to note that Davies records that Mrs. WoflSngton 
went to Paris " to perfect herself in the grace and grandeur of the 
French theatre," and that " here she was introduced to Mademoiselle 
Bumeseil, an actress celebrated for natural elocution and dignified 
action." But since Davies gives no clue to the date of this visit, its 
significance cannot be estimated. Cf. Davies, Life of D, vol i 
p. 309. ' ' ' 

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In 1748 Foote gave his Tea, extending the number of 
the victims of his ridicule beyond the number previously 
included in his Diversions of the Morning. 

By 1750 Mrs. Horton, a popular actress of the pre-Gar- 
rick period, was forced to resign many of her parts to 
Mrs. WoflSngton and Mrs. Pritchard of the new or natural 
school of elocution, in answer to the demands of the public. 
The popularity of Mrs. Pritchard had meanwhile grown, 
largely because she refused to follow the advice of Colley 
Gibber to ''tone'^ her words, while Mrs. Bellamy and 
Theophilus Gibber, by following this advice, had lost their 

In 1750 was first published Sir John HiU's The Actor, 
which Knight in his Life of Oarrick says was translated 
and adapted from Le Comedien of Sainte-Albine. The 
work is interesting as being the expression of a pupil of 
Macklin and is interesting in itself. Natural acting is 
here advocated, acting in character insisted upon, the ne- 
cessity of appropriate gesture emphasized, and the need 
for a somewhat indefinitely defined sensibility in the actor 

In 1751 Macklin gave lectures to the public on elocu- 
tion. In this same year he also coached a group of fashion- 
ables for an amateur performance at Drury Lane.*® This 
performance is significant in that it showed the school of 
natural acting firmly established in public favor, tpid it 
furthermore revealed an interest among the laity in acting 
and elocution. 

^ Davies, Dram, Mis., vol. i, pp. 40, 41. 

*For a discussion of this source pamphlet see Knight, I c, p. 211. 

^Macklin's popularity as a dramatic coach constantly increased 
after this time. He was employed by various persons of high rank 
and was engaged to instruct in elocution His Royal Highness, the 
Duke of York. Cf. Kirkman, l. c, vol. I, pp. 332, 333, and 463. 

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In the Bummer of 1751 Garrick made a hasty trip to 
Paris, where he became acquainted with the leaders of the 
French stage. 

In 1753 Hogarth, long a friend of Qurrick, published 
his Analysis of Beauty, in which he discussed incidentally 
the art of acting, and formulated for the first time the 
theory of movement and gesture on the stage, showing the 
need for variety in action and also the need for imity in 
variety. The stress here laid on variety in action is con- 
sistent with the emphasis which Garrick gave in his own 
acting to the multiplicity and variety of detail.*^^ 

In 1754 Macklin retired from the stage for a time and 
established a public-dinner at four and the British Inquisi- 
tion afterward. At four he was head waiter at his own 
public ; after dinner he was the lecturer and the leader of 
the discussion relative to art and morals which formed the 
" British Inquisition.^' Three times a week, too, from 
ten till twelve in the morning, Macklin received would-be 
actors, heard them, and pronounced authoritatively on 
their prospects of histrionic success.*^^ 

In this connection it must always be remembered that 
Macklin's teachings embodied the doctrines of imitative 
acting and natural speech, and that these doctrines were 
constantly being spread under his leadership of the " Brit- 
ish Inquisition." 

In 1757 Burke's Essay on the Sublime and the Beautir 
fvl appeared, bringing into general discussion the relation 

■•Hogarth (pp. 151-153) also gives expression to one of Qarrick's 
favorite doctrines concerning the test of acting hy a foreigner, ignor- 
ant of the language, who must base his judgment of the play upon 
the movements of the characters. It will be shown later in this 
paper that Qarrick delighted to submit his own acting to this test. 

" Cooke, Macklin, pp. 199-209 and 212-214. 

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of the ugly and the sublime to the beautiful ; a discussion 
which was found pertinent to the later discussion of stage 

In 1759 Sir Joshua Eeynolds's three papers in the 
Idler appeared. The important contributions of those 
papers, as far as the stage was concerned, related to the 
idea of mere genius as superior to, though not independent 
of, rules ; the idea of mere imitation as drudgery and not 
art ; the idea of the beautiful as the normal or at least the 
most usual expression of nature. 

In 1761 Kames's Elements of Criticism was published, 
a work important as an att^npt to formulate the princi- 
ples of criticism, but important here because it, like 
Burke's Essay, attempted, though on different grounds, to 
reconcile the ugly and the beautiful. 

In 1763 Garrick went abroad, returning in 1765. His 
return saw him perfected in his art, if we are to believe the 
testimony of his biographers and his critics. Much of the 
time on the Continent had been spent in France, where he 
had renewed his friendship with French actors and artists, 
and where his acting had made a profound impression in 
the world of critics as well as among the less philosophical 
of his audiences. *^^ Diderot had been advocating in France 
the value of imitative action. In 1751 he had written his 
famous letter on The Deaf and the Dumb. In 1760 he had 
written to Voltaire concerning Clairon, advocating the 
value of pantomime. In Garrick he saw his theories em- 
bodied, and he felt them justified, as is shown in his Para- 
doxe sur le Comedien, which took its point of departure 
from a pamphlet by A. Sticoti, an Italian actor playing in 
Paris, a pamphlet entitled OarricJc, ou les Acteurs anglais, 

■Hedgcock, I, o., pp. 96-107. 

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which in turn is said to have been a translation, with addi- 
tions, of Hill's The Actor.^^ 

The period from 1765 to 1776, or the period lasting 
from the return from the Continent until his retirement 
from the stage, was the period of Garrick's greatest acting 
and of his greatest fame. During this time he was absolute 
dictator of the stage, and the school of natural acting was 
accepted for the most part without question. 

Meanwhile, in 1768, the Royal Academy had been found- 
ed and Sir Joshua Reynolds chosen as its first president. 
On the occasion of the opening of the Academy in 1769, 
Reynolds delivered his First Discourse. The fifteen Dis- 
courses which he delivered between 1769 and 1790 herald- 
ed yet another change in the realm of the arts. But his 
Seventh Discourse, delivered in 1776, marked a crisis in 
stage theory, for it was in this discourse that Reynolds pro- 
nounced his theory of stage deportment. 

The pronouncement of this new theory of art, together 
with the retirement of Garrick from the stage, both events 
of 1776, marked the period of yet another change in st^e 
history. But it is necessary to return to our analysis of 
the chronicle of events here given in order to see the trend 
of stage affairs. 

In general, the art theories of the time found expression 
in the acting of Q^rrick and his school. Garrick had re- 
belled against the methods of the " old school," against 
formality and convention in declamation and in gesture, 

"Pollock, W. H., The Paradoof of Acting, 1883, p. 1. Note. 

Professor J. B^ier in Etudes Critiques, discusses a relevant ques- 
tion under the title of Le " Paradowe aur le Com^dien*' Est-Il de 
Diderot f In any case Diderot's Paradowe was, though writtai after 
Garrick's visit, not published for many years, and hence had no im- 
mediate effect on stage theory. It is of significance here because it 
shows the acting of Garrick to have influenced rather than to have 
been influenced by French ideals. 

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and his revolt was from the conventional to the natural. 
But being natural meant to Garrick imitating nature. 
Hogarth, who was Garrick's friend from the time when 
Garrick went to Goodman's Fields until Hogarth's death, 
is said to have memorized bit by bit an object which he 
purposed drawing.*^* And apparently this was the exact 
fashion of Garrick's preparation for acting. He observed 
and memorized bit by bit any action he saw about him and 
later repeated this action on the stage. The madness of 
Lear, for instance, he is said to have imitated from the 
madness of a father whose child fell from his arms into 
the street below as he stood playing with it in the window. 
This scene was a favorite one with Garrick for panto- 
mimic representation also.^^ 

Primarily Garrick's interest was in imitative action — 
in pantomime. And there are hundreds of tales told of 
this interest. His delight was to make his face show all 
the passions and emotions in turn, going quickly from 
mirth to horror, and then reversing the order of the pre- 
sentation and returning to mirth again. He amused his 
friends by imitations of everything from wiggle-worms to 
his enemies, according to more or less apocryphal stories. 
He sat for Fielding's portrait after that author's death. 
He was the bete noire of the artist who wanted to paint his 
portrait, for if he was pleased to be in a teasing mood, he 
was many different people in the course of an hour. Mrs. 
Olive's famous exclamation, " Damn him ; he could act a 
gridiron," is seemingly almost literally true. It is doubt- 
ful whether such consummate imitative genius has ever 
again been seen on the stage.^® 

••Auatin Dobeon, William Hoga/rth (1891), pp. 17, 18. 
"Davies, Life of D. O,, toI. n, p. 81. Tlie story is repeated by 
all Garrick's biographers. 
"Many of these tales are suggested in James Northcote, The Life 

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Yot Garrick's acting was criticized as being all bustle 
and commotion, as wanting dignity and poise and reserve. 
Macklin commented on Gkrrick's Lear, speaking of "his 
strange manner of dying and griping [^] the carpet; his 
writhing, straining, and agonizing; (all of whidh he has 
introduced into the profession of acting)." ^'' But imita- 
tive action was the business of the actor to Garrick, and 
imitation of nature the function of art. Therefore any- 
thing in nature could rightfully find its place in art ; the 
ugly and the brutal could not be ignored but must be pre- 
sented. The closer the imitation of nature in art, the 
better the art 

In declamation Garrick does not seem to have attained 
so high a degree of excellence as in action, however. He 
was criticized by his contemporaries for his halting speech, 
for his failure to pay proper attention to stops and pauses, 
for his seeming to prefer rhythm to sense in his decision 
in such matters, for his hurried closing of a period, for 
his lack of discriminating pronunciation of phrases, and 
for his lack of judgment in the matter of pauses.*^® Like- 
wise his pronunciation of certain words was criticized, 
but of this fact notice will be taken later in this paper. 
Boaden in his Memoirs of Mrs, Siddons quotes Mason's 
comment, "For though no man did more to correct the 
vicious taste of the preceding age in theatrical declamation 

of Sir Joshua Reynolds, to the second edition (1819) of which woric 
I have referred. 

" Kirkman, {. c, toI. i, pp. 246-249 and 259, 260. See also James 
Boaden, Memoirs of Mrs. Siddons (1827), vol. n, p. 169. Also 
Boaden, Memoirs of the Life of John Philip Kemhle, Esq. (1826), 
vol. I, p. 440. Incidental references to Oarrick's great weakness are, 
however, numerous. 

"That these criticisms were occasionally offered to Garrick him- 
self by anonymous well-wishers is evident from the letters preserved 
in the Garrick Oorrespondenoe. Cf. vol. i, pp. 109-111 particularly. 

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than he did, so far, indeed, as to change the mode almost 
entirely, yet this was not his principal excellence, and he 
knew it; and therefore disliked to perform any part what- 
ever, where expression of courvtenance was not more neces- 
sary than recitation of sentiment." ^® 

Of Garrick's acting we know much, but he does not seem 
to have formulated his theories of acting as theories. 
Writing to Powell and Henderson, giving them advice in 
regard to acting, he warned them against neglect of study, 
against being imperfect in their lines, and against yielding 
to flattery, and he urged them to be constant in their atten- 
tion to Shakespeare. No more.®^ Writing of Clairon in 
1769, when she was in the zenith of her popularity in 
France, he said that she was almost too definitely sure of 
what she could do before she came on the stage. The great- 
est strokes of genius, he asserted, are those which have not 
been thought out by the actor until he is stimulated to them 
by the presence of his audience.®^ And he pronounced 
Racine unsuited to natural acting because of the very form 
in which his plays are written, but a more definite formu- 
lation of theory I have not been able to find.®^ 

The source of Garrick's ideas of natural acting is not 
known. French influence was always felt in the English 
theatre during this period, and as early as 1684 Baron 
was waging a fight for natural acting at the Hotel de 
Bourgogne.®* Yet, according to Mr. Hedgcock, whose work 
I have already instanced, the French actors by Garrick's 
time had not advanced so far as had Garrick himself. 

■•Boaden, I. o., vol. n, p. 163. 
**Cor., vol. I, pp. 177 and 500. 
«* Ihid,, pp. 368, 869. 
■Knight, L c, p. 214. 

"For a history of the matter see Karl Mantzius, A History of 
Theatrical Art (1905). 

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Garrick, indeed, enabled Diderot to point him out as an 
example of his theories put into practice. But the actors 
of the time in France seem rather to have been influenced 
by Gamck than Gamck by them. Mr. Hedgcock thinks 
this influence detrimental, however, for Gurrick's love of 
pantomime and his marvelous exhibitions of pantomimic 
action led French actors to over-do imitative acting and to 
neglect justice of declamation in its favor. 

In England Macklin had been the great precursor of 
the school of natural acting, though he lacked the genius to 
popularize and establish it Aaron HiU, too, was evi- 
dently considering the matter of tragic declamation from 
a new point of view. Garrick and Macklin had early in 
Garrick's career formed a friendship that must have been 
influential in determining his theory of acting. Where 
Macklin in his turn caught the idea of natural acting, we 
have no source of information. I am inclined to think, 
however, that the interest in the drama of Thomson and 
Young and others of the romantic poets, and the friendship 
of Hogarth and Garrick, show that the stage was but em- 
bodying the same great forces that were elsewhere revealed 
in poetry and painting as well as in the philosophical criti- 
cism of the time. 

In general, this stage of romanticism in the theatre was 
characterized, then, by revolt against the standards of a 
previous age, against its conventions and its formality. 
In its first stages the revolt was toward natural acting of 
a realistic type. Imitation of the details of nature; in- 
clusion of the ugly as well as the beautiful; emphasis on 
action rather than on declamation were the three distinc- 
tive marks of the period. But Sir Joshua Eeynolds proved 
the prophet of yet another phase of romanticism. 

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stage pbesentation in englaitd 191 

Transition Forces 

To understand the new forces that were at work in the 
stage affairs of 1776, it is necessary to go back and to 
trace a new interest that was just coming into an influen- 
tial place after years of struggle on the part of one man, 
Thomas Sheridan. It was a two-fold interest — an interest 
in the propriety of speech and an interest in declamation 
in and for itself. 

Even before the time of Garrick, Quin is said to have 
corrected mistakes into which Shakespeare had inadvert- 
ently fallen in his use of language, to have changed and 
modernized obsolete phrases, and to have restored to the 
stage the proper pronunciation of many words. The value 
of these contributions is irrelevant to the present discus- 
sion; the fact of their showing an interest in the subject 
of propriety in speaking is significant. 

Macklin, too, in his early years came, through sad ex- 
perience with his Irish brogue, to perceive the necessity 
for proper pronunciation on the stage. 

But with Thomas Sheridan the real study of the subject 
commenced. In 1737, while Thomas Sheridan was in 
Trinity College, Dublin, his friend. Dean Swift, inquired 
concerning his studies. When he told the Dean that he 
was not taught English and was not taught elocution, the 
Dean replied, *^ Then, they teach you nothing." Inspired 
by this comment, Sheridan began to think upon the subject 
of education. Soon he became convinced that elocution 
was the key to the reformation of the world and hence 
should be made the foundation of education. He gave up 
his pkns for school-teaching and adopted the stage forth- 
with as his medium of instruction.®* 

•*Jolm Watkins, Memoirs of the Public and Private Life of the 

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In 1743, therefore, Sheridan appeared in a Dublin 
theatre. In 1744 he went to London, appearing at Covent 
Garden. In 1744-45 he acted at Drury Lane, there gain- 
ing the friendship of Pitt and Lyttleton. The next season 
he and Garrick acted together in Dublin, Garrick at this 
time encouraging Sheridan's idea of founding an oratori- 
cal academy. 

In 1751, as I have said above, Macklin coached the 
fashionable amateur performance of Othello at Drury 
Lane; it is evident, therefore, that by this time there must 
have developed an aristocratic if not a popular taste for 
dramatics and elocution. 

In 1757 Sheridan delivered in Dublin an address on 
elocution and commenced arrangements for an Hibernian 
Academy, based on the educational principles in which he 

In 1759 he gave in England a course of lectures on edu- 
cation. In 1761 he gave another eight lectures on elocu- 
tion. In these two sets of lectures he showed the necessity 
for elocution as a means to making religion popular, l^al 
argument conclusive, and morals effective. He further 
indicated his hope of reviving in England the lost art of 
oratory and at the same time of fixing the English lan- 
guage, so that our best authors might not become anti- 

In 1762 Foote gave his farce .of The Orators, in which 
he burlesqued Sheridan's scheme, ridiculing in turn the 
idea of training the Irish, Scotch, and Welsh in the proper 
English pronunciations of words ; the idea of training pro- 

Right Honorable R, B. Sheridan, toith a partioular Account of his 
family and Connewions (3rd ed. London, 1818), vol. i, pp. 46 seq. 

The facts hereafter recorded are the facts recorded in common by 
all the biographers of the Sheridans. 

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f essional men in elocution ; and the idea of elocution as a 
panacea for the evil in the world. 

In 1762, also, Sheridan established in Edinburgh an 
academy with elocution as its basic teaching. Enthusiasm 
was said to run high over this academy in 1762, but when 
Sheridan returned to Edinburgh in 1764, it had almost 
totally disappeared. 

In 1769 Sheridan gave at Footers theatre in London 
" An Attic Evening's Entertainment," which was appar- 
ently the first of the entertainments of recitation and music 
so popular during the late eighteenth and the early nine- 
teenth century. 

In 1771 John Walker, a minor actor of the school of 
Garrick, began to give lectures on elocution in various 
parts of Great Britain. 

In 1775 Sheridan gave more lectures on the art of read- 
ing, which lectures, together with the earlier lectures on 
elocution, were published in 1777 by Mr. Samuel Whyte 
of Dublin, to whom Sheridan assigned them. 

In 1774 had been announced in a pamphlet dedicated to 
Garrick a pronouncing dictionary by John Walker. In 
1775 appeared instead a rhyming dictionary, the pro- 
nouncing dictionary failing to make its actual appearance 
imtil 1791. In 1780, however, appeared instead a pro- 
nouncing dictionary by Thomas Sheridan, prefaced by a 
statement of his ideas of elocution as the basis of civil, 
moral, and social reform, and including particular in- 
structions to the unfortunate possessors of Scotch, Irish, 
and Welsh brogues. 

In 1780 and 1781 John Philip Kemble, then coming 
into great popularity on the stage, followed Sheridan's ex- 
ample and gave Attic Evenings, 

In 1782 and 1783 Sheridan again gave lectures on elo- 

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cution and demonstrations of recitation in a public hall 
in London and acquired a large following. 

In 1785 Sheridan and Henderson, the greatest of the 
followers of Garrick, gave readings likewise; and some- 
time before 1796 Sheridan's and Henderson's Practical 
Method of Reading and Writing English Poetry was 
issued as "a necessary introduction to Dr. Enfield's 

In later years Mrs. Siddons, the sister of Kemble, and 
the greatest actress of the English stage, gave many of 
these evenings of readings. 

The events here recorded reveal the new interests in 
propriety of pronunciation and in declamation as a sepa- 
rate art. These interests were largely developed, it is to 
be observed, by two actors, Sheridan and Walker, and they 
were continued by the influence of the leaders of the 
legitimate stage — Kemble, Henderson, and Mrs. Siddons. 

The Period of the Grajh) Style 

In the changes in stage presentation after 1776 there 
were three forces at work : the decline in the excellence . 
of the school of Garrick ; the influence of Sheridan on the 
London stage and his insistence on the matter of declama- 
tion ; a new theory of art and hence of theatric representa- 
tion. I 

In regard to the first matter we have little direct in- 
formation. But that the decline of the Garrick school was 
generally recognized is implied in aU the records of the 
time. Lord Northcote in his Memoirs of Reynolds gives 
an anecdote illustrative of this fact. The Bishop of St. 
Asaph, he reports, once asked Eeynolds why with all his 
instruction Garrick had not made any excellent players. 
Reynolds replied that the reason was found in the fact 

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that all of his pupils merely imitated Garrick, and that 
mere imitators like all followers must always lag a step 
behind.®^ In the OarricJe Correspondence collected by 
Boaden is recorded a letter of 1769 from Mr. J. Sharp, 
which gives expression to much the same idea. He writes 
to Gbrrick, "I think you have spoiled as many actors as 
Mr. Pope did poets, who studied the jingle of his versifi- 
cation and got that only." ®* 

The notable exception to the inadequacy of the follow- 
ers of Garrick was found in Henderson, who through the 
next decade shared honors with Kemble as the popular 
tragedian of the times. Yet Henderson is said by Boaden 
to have resembled Garrick, but not to have resembled the 
school of Garrick. 

As to the second force brought to bear upon the stage 
practice of the time, the influence of Sheridan in the Lon- 
don theatre, it is only necessary to record that Thomas 
Sheridan became stage manager at Drury Lane when his 
son, Richard Brinsley Sheridan, succeeded Garrick as 
manager of that theatre in 1776. The period of his in- 
cumbency was short, but he brought Mrs. Siddons to Lon- 
don and gave her instruction and advice for which she con- 
tinued to be grateful during her entire career. Sheridan's 
interest in declamation I have already shown. That this 
interest was strengthened in the stage world by his rule 
and by his influence exercised through Mrs. Siddons and 
the yoimger actors must be immediately evident. 

The third influence I have noted was that of the chang- 
ing theory of art. As I have -already indicated, Reynolds 
in his Seventh Discourse, delivered in 1776, commented 
on stage practice, applying the theories he had previously 
enunciated in the Idler papers of 1759. Art, he said, 

• Northcote, I, c, vol. i, p. 107. * Cor., vol. i, pp. 334, 335. 

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must not offend the eye by lack of harmony nor the ear 
by inharmonious sounds. He continued : 

We may venture to be more confident of the truth of this obeenra- 
tion, since we find that Shakspeare, on a parallel occasion, has made 
Hamlet recommend to the player a precept of the same kind, — ^nerer 
to offend the ear by harsh sounds. 'In the very torrent, tempest, 
and whirlwind of your passion,' says he, 'you must acquire and beget 
a temperance that may give it smoothness.' And jet, at the same 
time he very justly observes, 'The end of playing, both at the first, 
and now, was, and is, to hold, as 'twere the mirror up to nature.' 
No one can deny that violent passions will naturaUy emit harsh 
and disagreeable tones; yet this great poet and critic thought that 
this imitation of nature would cost too much if purchased at the 
expense as he expresses it, of ' splitting the ear.' The poet and actor, 
as well as the painter of genius, who is weU acquainted with all the 
variety and sources of pleasure in the mind and imagination, has 
little regard or attention to common nature, or creeping after com- 
mon-sense. By overleaping those narrow bounds, he more effectually 
seizes the whole mind, and more powerfully acc<»nplishes his pur- 
pose. This success is ignorantly imagined to proceed from inatten- 
tion to all rules, and a defiance of reason and judgment; whereas it 
is in truth acting according to the best rules and the justest reason. 

Art, Reynolds said, must raise and elevate nature. The 
artist must elevate nature into the realm of the pleasure- 
giving. The necessary elevation of art and the exclusion 
of the ugly, save as it too could be elevated into the realm 
of the pleasure-giving, then, mark the theory as it influ- 
enced stage presentation. Reynolds instanced particularly 
the play of Lear, seeming to criticise the pertormance of 
Garrick even as Macklin had done.®'' 

In view, then, of the decline from the superior excellence 
of Garrick's acting which marked the acting of his imme- 
diate successors ; in view of the new prominence into which 
the art of declamation had come through the influence of 

^'Bosanquet in his History of Aesthetic comments on Reynolds's 
Theory as an attempt " to dissociate the grand style from decorative 
formalism and explain it with reference to a normal or central 
'inclination of nature.'" 

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Thomas Sheridan — an art in which Garrick was confes- 
sedly inferior; and in view of the new theory of art, 
especially as it was formulated by Sir Joshua Eeynolds, 
the devoted friend of the Kembles, it is not surprising 
that changes in the theory and practice of acting became 
strikingly evident in 1782 and 1783, when Mrs. Siddons 
and John Philip Kemble, her brother, took their places 
as leaders of the London stage. 

For a time competition between what was excellent in 
the old school, in the person of Henderson, and what was 
excellent in the new school, in the person of Kemble, 
vied for supremacy.®* But Henderson's death in 1785 
and Kemble's assumption of the management of Drury 
Lane in 1788 marked the uncontested final superiority of 
the new schooL Kemble represented the school of 
grandeur, of elevated art ; Henderson the school of varied 
action and natural utterance. Kemble gave expression to 
theatric art as it was interpreted by Eeynolds ; Henderson 
to theatric art as it had been practised by Garrick.®* 

Kemble was a professed student of dramatic theory and 
dramatic history. Furthermore he studied the art of his 
time. Indeed, he formed the habit of making the rounds 
of the studios of the artists of his time and of understand- 
ing what their purposes were. Mrs. Siddons, too, became, 

*" Percy Fitzgerald, The Oarriok Oluh, (p. 210) makes comment 
<Hi the portraits of Henderson, saying they make him seem to have 
had the rude methods of the conventional player in elocutionizing. 
But such was not the contemporary judgment upon his acting. 

''Boaden as the friend of the Kembles was perhaps their most 
sympathetic interpreter. His comi^ent upon Henderson, too, is 
significant. The difficulty he foimd in Henderson was that which 
resulted from an effort to make natural on the stage what was writ- 
ten as artificial dialogue. Dr. Johnson's Irene, for instance. The 
Kembles were better able sympathetically to interpret this sort of 
dialogue, he felt. Gf. MemoWs of Mrs. Biddans, vol. n, pp. 48, 40. 

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through her friend, the Honorable Mrs. Darner, interested 
in sculpture, and some of her work is to-day to be seen in 
the Garrick Club, I believe.''® 

There were other contributory causes, moreover. The 
new plays were not to be spoken as were Shakespeare's 
plays, for their poetic style would be robbed of all charm 
by too conversational a manner of delivery. Furthermore 
the theatres were becoming larger, and the acoustics were 
not good, so that the ordinary tones of voice could not be 
heard, and any great variation in tone was impossible. 
The large stage of the new theatres, particularly the stage 
of the Italian Opera, which during the re-building of Drury 
Lane was occupied by the actors, necessitated a greater 
attention to motion and forbade informality.'^^ 

The final popularity of the school of Kemble, however, 
was attributable to the glorious genius of Mrs. Siddons, 
which was able to popularize this new school of theatric 
art as the genius of (Jarrick had popularized the natural or 
realistic school nearly fifty years earlier. To the wonder 
of her acting there are innumerable tributes from her con- 
temporaries. Hazlitt recorded: 

The homage she has received is greats than that which is paid to 
Queens. Hie enthusiasm she excited had something idolatrous about 
it; she was regarded less with admiration than with wonder. She 
raised Tragedy to the skies, or brought it down from thence.^ 

Mrs. Siddons's acting was of the ^^ grand style " advoca- 
ted by Keynolds. It had in it much of the sublime. There 
was no attempt in her acting slavishly to copy nature; 
rather it was the medium for the interpretation of nature, 

~ Boaden, Mrs, flf., vol. n, pp. 290, 291. 

«7WA, pp. 284-290. 

"William Hazlitt, The OoUeoied Works of, ed. Waller and Glover, 
1903, voL vm, p. 312. An account of Mrs. Siddons published in 
The Ewwmmer for June 16, 1816. 

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a medium for rendering action more significant. It en- 
nobled whatever it interpreted. 

As I have said, this was the method of Kemble also, but 
the genius of Mrs. Siddons was the force which made this 
new school of acting the dominant one through the years 
between 1782 and 1814, when Edmund Kean appeared on 
the London stage. During this period propriety of speech 
and elegance of declamation were emphasized. . The ugly 
was no longer admitted as capable of artistic treatment 
save as it was elevated into the realm of the pleasure-giv- 
ing. Dignified and elevated acting, consciously interpreta- 
tive rather than imitative, expressed the art of the stage. 

The chronicle of theatric events during the eighteenth 
century cannot but seem significant when viewed in the 
light of the changes that were taking place in the other arts 
during the same period. From 1690 till 1741, we find a 
period of classicism, marked on the stage by formalism 
and convention and the acceptance of tradition. That this 
was the period of classicism in the other arts, every student 
of the history of literature and painting and gardening 
knows as a matter of course. And that the same artistic 
principles were manifest in every artistic medium of the 
time is at once recognized. After 1741 the stage experi- 
enced its age of romanticism, expressing in its art the 
same spiritual changes that modified or revolutionized the 
other arts. In stage affairs this age of romanticism was 
characterized by revolt against the classicism of the pre- 
ceding age, by a renewed dependence on the older Eng- 
lish dramatists, particularly Shakespeare, and by a new 
conception of the relation between nature and art. Until 
1776 this new romanticism was realistic, imitative. After 
1776, and yet more definitely after 1782, the romanticism 
was the classical romanticism, interpretative in method — 

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the romanticiflm of the " grand style/' Again the other 
arts show a history exactly parallel with the history of 
stage art. In English literature and in painting, as on the 
English stage, the romanticism for the early years was a 
realistic romanticism. Gradually it was modified to a 
classical romanticism. 

During this period all the arts found new interest in 
constructive criticism, while with Burke, Kames, Hogarth, 
and Eeynolds we find manifest the gradually evolving 
theory of art which justified its changing principles. Thus, 
as we see the romanticism of the early poets becoming 
the classical romanticism of Keats and Shelley and Byron, 
as we see the realism of Hogarth superseded in public 
favor by the " grand style '^ of Reynolds, and the imitative 
acting of Garrick yielding to the interpretative art of the 
Kembles, we must inevitably conclude that the arts were 
but manifesting through their different media the artistic 
principles held in common by them all. 

Lily B. Campbell. 

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Certain [Indian] societies require that each member have a special 
song; this 8<mg is generally of the man's own composition, although 
scMnetimes these songs are inherited from a father or a near relative 
who when living had been a member of the society. These individual 
s<mgB are distinct from songs used in the ceremonies and r^arded 
as the property of the society, although the members are entitled to 
sing them on certain occasions. When this society holds its formal 
meetings a part of the closing exercises consists of the simultaneous 
singing by all the members present of their individual songs. Hie 
result is most distressing to a listener, but there are no listeners 
unless by chance an outsider is present, for each singer is absorbed 
in voicing his own special song which is strictly his own personal 
affair, so that he pays no attention to his neighbour, consequently 
the pandemonium to which he contributes does not exist for him. 

The forgoing paragraph from Miss Alice 0. Fletcher's 
accoimt of Indian music ^ reads like a travesty of the ac- 
cepted view of primitive song, its character and author- 
ship. There is the familiar primitive "horde," engaged 
in festal singing, without onlookers. Yet instead of col- 
laborative composition, improvisation, and communal 
ownership of the ensuing "ballad," we have individual 
authorship and ownership, and individual singing. This 
is the testimony of a specialist who has spent many years 
among the people of whom she writes, studying and record- 
ing their songs and their modes of composition. Easily 
recognizable is the homogeneous primitive group, singing 
in festal ceremony ; but this group does not conduct itself 

^ The Study of Indian Music, Reprinted from the Proceedings of 
the National Academy of Sciences, vol. i, p. 233. 1915. 

Compare a custom among the Karok, an Indian tribe of California 
(Stephen Powers, Contributions to North American Ethnology, vol. 
ra, p. 29, Washington, 1877). 


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in the way which literary historianfl have insisted that we 
should expect. 

The songs of primitive peoples have received much at- 
tention in recent years, especially the songs of the Ameri- 
can Indians. An immense amount ctf material has been 
collected and made available; and this has been done in 
a scientific way, with the help of countless phonographic 
and other records. Instead of having to rely on the stray 
testimonies of travellers, explorers, historians, and essay- 
ists, the student of primitive poetry has now at his disposal 
an amount of data unavailable to his predecessors. He 
need not linger among the fascinating mysteries of roman- 
tic hypotheses, but can supply himself with the carefully 
observed facts of scientific record.^ 

'References of chief importance for the American Indians are 
Frederick R. Burton, American Primitive Music, with especial atten- 
tion to the songs of the Ojibways, New York, 1909; Natalie Curtis, 
The Indian's Book, New York, 1900; and the following thorough 
studies: Frances Densmore, Chippetoa Music, in Bulletins 45 (1910) 
and 53 (1913) of the Bureau of American Ethnology; Alice C. 
Fletcher, A Study of Omaha Indian Music, Papers of the Peahody 
Museum, vol. vn. No. 5, 1893, Indian Btory and Bong, Boston, 1900, 
The Hako: a Pawnee Ceremony, 22 Report (1904), Bureau of Ameri- 
can Ethnology, and The Study of Indian Music quoted supra; James 
Mooney, T?^ Qhost-Dance Religion, 14 Report, Bureau of Ethnology, 
Part n, 1896. Excellent pieces of work are "Hopi Songs" and 
"ZuJSi Melodies," by B. I. Oilman, published respectively in the 
JourtMl of American Ethnology and- Archosology, vol. i, 1891 and 
vol. v, 1908, but nothing is said in these regarding the composition or 
presentation of the songs recorded. 

Here also may be cited F. Boas, The Central Eskimo, Bureau of 
American Ethnology, 1884-1885, Bongs and Dances of the Kunihiutl, 
etc.. Journal of American Folk-Lore, 1888, Eskimo Tales and Bongs, 
ihid., 1894 ; F. J. de Augusta, Zehn Araukaner Lieder, Anthropos, vi, 
1911. Many references are cited later, especially books, studies, or 
special articles dealing with South American, African, and Austral- 
ian tribes. 

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In this matter it cannot be valid to object that we should 
not look among ITorth or South American Indians, or Eski- 
mos for '^ beginnings." It cannot reasonably be said that 
these tribes are too advanced, too highly civilized, to afford 
trustworthy evidence as to aboriginal modes. As a matter 
of fact, we can go little farther back, in the analysis of cul- 
ture, than these peoples, if we are to stay by what can be 
demonstrated. When we have learned what we can learn 
from the primitive tribes on our own continent, in South 
America, Africa, Australia, Oceania, we know pretty much 
all that we can surely know. If we go to the prehistoric, 
we are conjecturing, and we ought to label our statements 
" conjecture." In general, gradations of " primitiveness " 
among savage peoples are difficult to make. A social group 
may show the simplest or least organized social structure, 
and yet be relatively advanced in musical and artistic 
talent Another group may show advance in social or- 
ganization, yet be backward in song and story. And cer- 
tainly even the most advanced of the Indian communities 
(with the exception of civilized Mexico and Peru) are 
every whit as primitive as the mediaeval peasant com- 
munes, from whose supposed ways we are constantly asked 
to learn as r^ards poetic beginnings.* If, as we are told, 
prehistoric song-modes are reflected in the folk-dances and 
festal throngs of mediaeval peasants and villagers, or in 
the singing of nineteenth-century Corsican field laborers, 
Styrian threshers, Gascon vintage choruses, Italian coun- 
try-folk, Silesian peasants, Faroe Island fishermen, and 
harvest-field songs everywhere,* they ought to be reflected 
yet more in the song-modes of the American Indians. 

• See F. B. Gummere, The Beginninga of Poetry, 1901, and The Pop- 
ular BaUad, 1907. 

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" Communal ^' Authobship and Ownbeship 

At the present time the accepted op orthodox view, t. e., 
among literary critics, hardly among anthropologists, con- 
cerning the authorship of primitive song and the " begin- 
nings of poetry " is reflected in such passages as the follow- 
ing, from a recent work by Professor Richard Green 
Moulton : ^ 

The primary element of literary form is the ballad dance, lliis 
is the union of verse with musical accompaniment and dancing; the 
dancing being, not exactly what the words suggest to modern ears, 
but the imitative and suggestive action of which an orator's gestures 
are the nearest survival. Literature, where it first appears spon- 
taneously, takes this form: a theme or story is at once versified, 
accompanied with music, and suggested in action. When the Israel- 
ites triumphed at the Red Sea, Miriam " took a timbrel in her hands; 
and all the women went out after her with timbrels and dances." 
This was a ballad dance; it was a more elaborate example of the same 
when David, at the inauguration of Jerusalem, ''danced before the 
Lord with all his might." And writers who deal with literary origins 
offer abimdant illustrations of folk-dances among the most diverse 
peoples in an early stage of civilization. 

In this passage and in his diagrams showing literary 
evolution * Professor Moulton gives the " ballad dance '^ 
the initial position in the chronology of musical and liter- 
ary history, characterizing it as the "primitive literary 
form '' — ^the ballad dance, moreover, according to the usual 
view, of the throng. Individual composition of and pri- 
prietorship in song is of secondary development ; and when 
this stage has been reached, " folk-song " has passed into 
" artistry." 

Better, let some passages from Professor Gummere's 

• The Modem Btudy of IMertUure, Chicago, 1916. From Chapter i, 
" The Elements of Literary Form." 
•Ihid., pp. 18, 26. 

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TJie Beginnings of Poetry be cited. Professor Gxunmere 
is our leading scholar of the subject, and in view of his 
learning, his immense bibliographical equipment, and his 
years of attention to the matter, his words may well have 
especial weight. Here are some characteristic sentences: 
" Poetry begins with the impersonal, with commimal emo- 
tion." '^ " The ballad is a song made in the dance, and so 
by the dance. . . The conmiimal dance is the real source of 
the song." ® ^^ The earliest ^ muse ^ was the rhythm of the 
throng." • " Festal throngs, not a poet's solitude, are the 
birthplace of poetry." ^^ " Overwhelming evidence shows 
all primitive poetical expression of emotion to have been 
collective." ^^ Let two quotations of greater length be 

As the savage laureate slips from the singing, dancing crowd, which 
turns audience for the nonce, and gives his short improvisation, onlj 
to yield to the refrain of the chorus, so the actual hahit of individ- 
ual composition and performance has spnmg from the choral com- 
position and performance. The improvisations and the recitative are 
short deviations from the main road, beginnings of artistry, which 
will one day become journeys of the solitary singer over pathless hills 
of song, those " wanderings of thought " which Sophocles has noted ; 
and the curve of evolution in the artist's course can show how rapidly 
and how far this progress has been made. But the relation must not 
be reversed; and if any fact seems established for primitive life, it is 
the precedence of choral song and dance. . . . 

Here it is enough to show that rhythmical verse came directly from 
choral song, and that neither the choral song, nor any regular song, 
could have come from the recitative." 

It is natural for one person to speak, or even to sing, and for 
ninety-nine persons to listen. It is also natural for a hundred per- 

^The Beginnings of Poetry (1901), p. 139. Later, by Professor 
Gummere, are The Popular Ballad (1907), and the chapter on Bal- 
lads in the Cambridge History of English Literature (1908); but 
these deal primarily with the English and Scottish ballads, not with 
the origins of poetry. 

•P. 321. "P. 212. "P. 93. 

•P. 106. "P. 13. 

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sons, under strong emotion, to shout, sing, dance, in concert and as 
a throng, not as a matter of active and passive, of give and take, 
but in common consent of expression. The second situation . . . 
must have preceded." 

To come farther down in the history of song, a favorite 
picture with Professor Gummere is of European peasant 
folk in the Middle Ages, improvising " ballads " in song 
and dance, and thus — ^by virtue of the simple homogeneous 
character of their life — establishing a type of balladry 
superior to, and having more vitality than, anything of 
the kind having its origin in individual authorship. It is 

*» Pp. 80, 81. In Professor Gummere's article on " The Ballad and 
Communal Poetry," Child Memorial voliune {Harvard Studies and 
Notes, etc., 1896), he says: "Spontaneous composition in a dancing 
multitude — all singing, all dancing, and all able on occasion to im- 
provise — ^is a fact of primitive poetry about which we may be as 
certain as such questions allow us to be certain. Behind individuals 
stands the human horde. ... An insistent echo of this throng . . . 
greets us from the ballads." He adds communal poetry to Wundt's 
(Ueher Ziele und Wege der Volkerpsychologie) three products of the 
conmiunal mind, — speech, myth, and custom. ''Universality of the 
poetic gift among inferior races, spontaneity or improvisation under 
communal conditions, the history of refrain and chorus, the early 
relation of narrative songs to the dance '* [the italics are mine] are 
facts so well established that "it is no absurdity to insist on the 
origin of poetry under communal and not under artistic conditions." 
More difiSculty lies in "the assertion of simultaneofis composition. 
Yet this diflBculty is more apparent than real." 

Grosse, Anf&nge der Kunst (1894), ch. iz, finds the poetry of 
primitive peoples to be egoistic in inspiration, and gives examples of 
lyrics of various types which point to this. "Im AUgemeinen 
tr&gt die Lyrik der Jllgervdlker einen durchaus egoistischen Cha- 
rakter. Der Dichter besingt seine persdnlichen Leiden und Freuden; 
das Schicksal seiner Mitmenschen entlockt ihm nur selten einen Ton." 
For Professor Gummere's discussion and rejection of Grosse's view, 
see The Beginnings of Poetry, pp. 381 flf. 

For a present-day German view of primitive poetry, see Erich 
Schmidt, " Die Anfange der Literatur," Die Kultur der Gegenwart, 
Leipzig, 1906, i, pp. 1-27. For a French view, see A. van Gennep, 
La Formation des L4gendes, Paris, 1910, pp. 210-211. 

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a long gap, that between aboriginal song and dance and 
the English and Scottish ballads of the fifteenth and six- 
teenth centuries; yet it is a gap we are asked to bridge. 
Undoubtedly, if that " most ancient of creative processes," 
the communal throng chorally creating its song from the 
festal dance, existed among the mediseval peasants and 
produced work of the high value of the English and Scot- 
tish ballads, the same " ancient method " should prevail 
among that yet more primitive people, the American 

That it is an absurd chronology which assimies that in- 
dividuals have choral utterance before they are lyrically 
articulate as individuals, seems — extraordinarily enough — 
to have troubled very few. Did primitive man sing, dance, 
and compose in a throng, while he was yet unable to do so 
as an individual ? We are asked to believe this. Are we to 
assume that he was inarticulate and without creative gift 
till suddenly he participated in some festal celebration and 
these gifts became his ? Professor Qummere cites as evi- 
dence, so important as to deserve italics. Dr. Paul Ehren- 
reich's statement concerning the Botocudos of South 
America, '' They never sing without dancing, never dance 
without singing, wad have hut one word to express both 
song and danceJ^ ^* Much the same thing, save as r^ards 
limitations of vocabulary, might have been said by a trav- 
eller among the ancient Greeks, with whom dance was 
generally inseparable from music and versa Nothing is 
proved by this characteristic of the Botocudos, if it is a 
characteristic; any more than anything is proved by the 
fact that the far more aboriginal Akkas of South Africa ^" 

^Ueher die Botoouden, Zeitsohrift fUr Ethnologie, XJX, pp. 30flf. 
Quoted in The Beginnings of Poetry, p. 95. See note 40 infra, 

" Some references for the Akkas are G. Burrows, On ihe Natives of 
the Upper WeUe District of the Belgian Congo, Journal of the 

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have songless danceS; or by the fact that danoelees songs — 
a circumstance hard to fit into the accepted view of primi- 
tive poetry — ^have been reported among the Andamanese, 
the Australians^ the Maori of 2Tew Zealand, Semang 
of Malaysia, Seri of Mexico, and Eskimo of the Arctic, 
as well as among practically all North American tribes 
that have been studied in detail.^^ "Purely the indi- 
vidual does everything he can do, or chooses to do, as 
an individual, before, or cont^aporary with, his ability 
to do the same as a member of a throng. The testimo- 
nies of travellers as to communal singing and dancing 

Anthropological Institute (1889), xxvni; Sir H. JameSi Geographi- 
cal Journal, xvn, p. 40, 1906; G. A. Schweinfurth, Heart of Africa, 
N. Y., 1874, vol. n; H. von Wissmann, Meine Zweite Durchquerung 
Aequaitorial-Afrikas, Frankfort, 1890; H. M. Stanley, In Darkest 
Africa, N. Y., 1891; H. Schlichter, Pygmy Tribes of Africa, Scot. 
Geog. Mag., vm, etc. 

"According to the testimony of Misa Fletcher, in a letter to the 
present writer, there are many songs sung by Indian societies in 
which there is no dancing. 6uch songs are Bp(^en of as "Rest 
Songs." In the account quoted at the opening of this paper, of the 
simultaneous singing of individual songs by the members of a cer- 
tain society as the closing act of a meeting, the members are sitting 
as they sing. Their individual songs are, in a sense> credentials of 
membership. Each song is strictly individual, and refers to a per- 
sonal experience. 

" In most societies," says Miss Fletcher, " as well as in the cere- 
monies of the tribe, the songs are led by a choir, or by persons 
officially appointed as leaders. The members of the society fre- 
quently join in the song. I do not recall anyone performing a 
dramatic dance and singing at the same time. While all dances are 
accompanied by song, many songs are sung without dancing. 

"Some of the dancing is not violent in action, the movement is 
merely rhythm and swaying. In such dances, the dancers sing as 
they move. Occasionally, as I recall, the song for a dance which is 
dramatic and vigorous, bringing all the body into play, wiU be sung 
by the choir (men and women seated about the drum). Some of the 
people sitting and watching the dance may clap their hands in 
rhythm with the drum. This, however, is playfulness by some pri- 
vileged person and indicates enjoyment." 

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among savage or peasant communities prove nothing at 
all as to origins; certainly they do not prove that collective 
poetic feeling and authorship preceded individual feeling 
and authorship. Testimonies as to tribal song ought to 
outnumber testimonies as to individual song, since the 
spectator is chiefly interested in tribal ways. He would 
be struck by and record tribal ceremonies, rituals, and 
songs, where individual doings would escape attention or 
seem unimportant. Besides, choruses would no doubt be 
more numerous than solos, and bound up with more 
important occasions; much as solo dances are infrequent, 
among savage tribes, compared to mass dancing. To 
reiterate, however, testimony no matter how great its 
quantity, that savage peoples sing and dance in throngs, 
or improvise while doing so, proves nothing as to the 
priority of communal over individual feeling, authorship, 
and ownership. 

The evidence concerning primitive song which should 
have greatest weight is not that of travellers and explorers, 
interested chiefly in other things than song, but l3iat of 
special scholars, who have recorded and studied available 
material with a view to its nature, its composition, and its 
vitality. Among these there seems to be neither doubt nor 
divergence of opinion ; and their testimony is at variance 
with the now established tradition of the literary historian. 

I wish to make clear in advance that I have no desire 
to deny the general social inspiration of song. In a broad 
sense, all art is a social phenomenon — ^the romanticists to 
the contrary. Song is mainly a social thing at the present '^ 
time, and it was yet more prevailingly social among our 
remote ancestors. I wish rather to examine the following 
specific hypotheses: the inseparableness of primitive dance, 
music, and song; the simultaneous mass-composition of 
primitive song; mass-ownership of primitive song; the 

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narrative character of primitive song; the non-existence of 
the primitive artist. I also have strong doubts concerning 
the birth of rhythmic or musical utterance from rhythmic 
action, if this be conceived as a form of limb or bodily 

In the following citations of illustrative material, I have 
drawn primarily upon American Indian material. It is 
this material, on the whole, which has been collected and 
studied most carefully. Coming as it does from homogen- 
eous primitive peoples, in the tribal state, having one stand- 
ard of life, and as yet unaffected by the poetic modes of 
civilization, it should have importance for the questions 
\mder discussion. Parallel material available from South 
America, Africa, Australia, and Oceania, yields, however, 
the same evidence. 


Individual Authobship and Owneeship 

That American Indian song is of individual composi- 
tion, not the product of group improvisation, much evidence 
may be brought to support. It will be seen also, from the 
illustrative material cited, that the Indian has a feeling of 
private ownership in his song. It would be reasonable, 
therefore, to assume that, as far back as we can go in primi- 
tive society, there should be a sense of individual skill in 
song-making, as of individual skill in running, hurling a 
dart, leaping, or any other human activities. There is 
something absiird in singling out musical utterance as the 
one form of expression having only social origin or social 

A large nimiber of Indian songs are said to have come 
into the mind of the Indian when he was in a dream or a 
trance (surely not a " communal " form of experience!). 

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Many of the Chippewa songs, for example, are classified as 
" dream songs.'' Says Miss Densmore : ^^ 

Many Indian songs are intended to exert a strong mental influ- 
ence, and dream songs are supposed to have this power in greater 
degree than any others. The supernatural is very real to the Indian. 
He puts, himself in communication with it by fasting or by physical 
suffering. While his body is thus subordinated to his mind a song 
occurs to him. In after years he belieyes that by singing this song 
he can recall the condition under which it came to him — a condition 
of direct communication with the supematuraL" 

It is said that in the old days all the important songs were 
"composed in dreams," and it is readily understood that the man 
who sought a dream desired power superior to that he possessed. 
A song usually came to a man in his "dream"; he sang this song 
in the time of danger or necessity in the belief that by so doing he 
made more potent the supernatural aid vouchsafed to him in the 
dream. Songs composed, or received, in this manner were used on 
the warpatii, in the practice of medicine, and in any serious under- 
taking of life." 

'Frances Densmore, Chippewa Muaio, i, n. Bulletin 46 (1910) 
and 53 (1913), Bureau of American Ethnology. For examples see 
I, pp. llSff., n, pp. 37 ff. 

"•/Wd., I, p. 118. 

" Ibid., n, p. 16. Compare also : " There is no limit to the num- 
ber of these [ghost-dance songs] as every trance at every dance pro- 
duces a new one, the trance subject after regaining consciousness em- 
bodying his experience in the spirit world in the form of a song, 
which is sung at the next dance and succeeding performance until 
superseded by other songs originating in the same way. Thus a 
single dance may easily result in twenty or thirty new songs " (James 
Mooney, The Ghost Damce Religion, 14 Report, BurecM of Ethnology, 
Part n, 1896, p. 952). Many trance songs from many tribes are 
given pp. 953-1101. 

For testimony from Australia, see A. W. Howitt, The Native 
Tribes of South-East Australia, London, 1904. He says, p. 416, " In 
the tribes with which I have acquaintance, I find it to be a common 
belief that the songs, using that word in its widest meaning, as 
including all kinds of aboriginal poetry, are obtained by the bards 
from the spirits of the deceased, usually of their kindred, during 
sleep, in dreams. . . The Birraark professed to rttoeive his poetic 
inspiration from the Mrarts, as well as the accompanying dances, 
which he was supposed to have seen first in ghost-land. ... In the 

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There is also testimony as to private ownership. ^^ 

The Chippewa have no songs which are the exclusive property of 
families or clans. Any young man may learn his father's songs, 
for example, by giving him the customary gift of tobacco, but he 
does not inherit the right to sing such songs, nor does his father 
force him to learn them.*^ 

Wte learn further that the healer combines music and 
medicine. " If a cure of the sick is desired, he frequently 
mixes and rolls a medicine after singing the song which 
will make it effective." ^^ And that " The songs of a 
Chippewa doctor cannot be bought or sold." ^* 

So far as the two men who heard me were concerned, the argu- 
ment was convincing, but there lingered even with them a reluctance 
to help me with certain songs because they belonged to other per- 
sons. Nearly all the Indians of my acquaintance recognize this pro- 
prietary interest in songs. A has no right to sing B's songs; B did 
not compose them, but they came down to him through his family, 
or from some chief who fought him, and B alone should say whether 
they might be given another.** 

Miss Fletcher writes of the Omaha : 

It would be a mistake to fancy that songs floated indiscriminately 
about among the Indians, and could be picked up here and there by 
any chance observer. Every song had originally its owner. It be- 

Narrang-ga tribe there are old men who profess to learn songs and 
dances from departed spirits. These men are called Gurildras. . . . 
In the Yuin tribe some men received their songs in dreams, others 
when waking." Specimen songs follow. 

**An interesting seventeenth-century testimony is the following 
from LeJeune's Relation, 1636: "Let us begin* with the feasts of the 
Savages. They have one for war. At this they sing and dance in 
turn, according to age; if the younger ones begin, the old men pity 
them for exposing themselves to the ridicule of the others. Each 
has his own song, that another dare not sing lest he give offense. 
For this very reason they sometimes strike up a tune that belongs 
to their enemies to aggravate them." — Jesuit Belations (lliwaites 
ed.), voL iz, p. 111. 

'^CTUppewa Muaio, i, p. 2. ^ Ihid., i, p. 20. ^fbid., p. 119. 

"Burton, Ameriocm Primitive Mtmo, p. 118. 

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longed either to a society, secular or religious, to a certain clan or 
political organization, to a particular rite or ceremony, or to some 
individual. . . . The right to sing a song which belonged to an in- 
dividual could be purchased, the person buying the song being taught 
it by the owner. 

These beliefs and customs among the Indians have made it possible 
to preserve their songs without change from one generation to an- 
other. Many curious and interesting proofs of accuracy of trans- 
mittal have come to my knowledge during the past twenty years, 
while studying these primitive melodies. . . . Close and continued 
observation has revealed that the Indian, when he sings, is not con- 
cerned with the making of a musical presentation to his audience. 
He is simply pouring out his feelings, regardless of artistic effects. 
To him music is subjective: it is the vehicle of communication be- 
tween him and the object of his desire.* 

Now a few testimonies as to individual authorship. A 
first instance is from the songs of the Omaha. For the 
complete story of this song, the reader is referred to the 
account of Miss Fletcher: 

At length the Leader stood up and said, "We have made peace, 
we have come in good faith, we will go forward, and Wa-konMa 
shall decide the issue." Then he struck up this song and led the 
way; and as the men and women followed, they caught the tune, and 
all sang it as they came near the, Sioux village." 

"Alice C. Fletcher, The Indin in Story and Bong, pp. 116-117. 

^Ihid., p. 22. The following passage from A Study of Omaha 
Indian Mtuio, p. 25, by Alice C. Fletcher and Francis LaFlesche, also 
throws light on the composition of certain Indian songs: 

Like the Poo-g'-thun, the Hae-thu-ska preserved the history of its 
members in its songs; when a brave deed was performed, the society 
decided whether it should be celebrated and without this dictate no 
man would dare permit a song to be composed in his honor. When 
a favorable decision was given, the task of composing the song de- 
volved upon some man with musical talent. It has happened that 
the name of a man long dead has given place in a popular song to 
that of a modern warrior; this could only be done by the consent of 
the society, which was seldom given, as the Omahas were averse to 
letting the memory of a brave man die. . . . the songs were trans- 
mitted from one generation to another with care, as was also the 
story of the deeds the song conuuemorated. 


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Two instances from the Pawnee illustrate perfectly the 
poet musing in solitude on the meaning of nature, — like a 
sort of Pawnee Wordsworth ! 

The " Song of the Bird's Nest " commemorates the story 
of a man who came upon a bird's nest in the grass: 

He paused to look at the little nest tucked away bo snug and 
warm, and noted that it held six eggs and that a peeping sound 
came from some of them. While he watched, one moved and soon a 
tiny bill pushed through the shell uttering a shrill cry. At once the 
parent birds answered and he looked up to see where they were. They 
were not far off; they were flying about in search of food, chirping 
the while to each other and now and then calling to the little ones 
in the nest. . . . After many days he desired to see the nest again. 
So he went to the place where he had found it and there it was as 
safe as when he had left it. But a change had taken place. It was 
now full to overflowing with little birds, who were stretching their 
wings, balancing on their little legs and making ready to fly, while 
the parents with encouraging calls were coaxing the fledglings to 
venture forth. "Ah!" said the man, "if my people would only learn 
of the birds, and like them, care for their young and provide for 
their future, homes would be full and happy, and our tribe strong 
and prosperous." 

When this man became a priest, he told the story of the bird's 
nest and sang its song; and so it has come down to us as from the 
days of our fathers." 

The " Song of the Wren " was made by a priest who 
noted that the wren, the smallest and least powerful of the 
birds, excelled them all in the fervor of its song. " Here,'' 
he thought, " is a teaching for my people. Everyone can 
be happy ; even the most insignificant can have his song of 

So he [the priest] made the story of the wren and sang it; and 

''The Hako, A Paumee Ceremony, in 22nd Report, Bureau of 
American Ethnology, Part n, p. 170. See also The India/n in Story 
and Bong, p. 32. 

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it has been handed down from that day, — a day bo long ago no man * 
can remember the time." 

Instances testifying to individual not communal compo- 
sition of song among the Chippewa are no less easily cited. 

The following explanation of a certain song was given 
by an Indian: 

The song belonged to a certain man who sang it in the dances 
which were held before going to war. When this man was a boy he 
had a dream and in his dream he heard the trees singing as though 
they were alive: they sang that they were afraid of nothing except 
being blown down by the wind. When the boy awoke he made up 
this song, in which he repeats what he heard the trees say. The true 
meaning of the words is that there is no more chance of his being de- 
feated on the warpath than there is that a tree will be blown down 
by the wind.* 

The singer stated that he composed this song himself when he was 
a child. The circiunstances were as follows: His mother had gone 
to a neighbor's, leaving him alone in the wigwam. He became very 
much afraid of the owl, which is the particular terror of all small 
Indians, and sang this song. It was just after sugar making and 
the wigwams were placed together beside the lake. The people in 
the othor wigwams heard his little song. The melody was entirely new 
and it attracted them so that they learned- it as he sang. The men 

* The Hako, pp. 171-172. See also The Indian in Story and Song, 
p. 66. 

See A. W. Howitt, The Native Tribes of South^East Australia, 
London, 1904, for instances of individual artistry among the Aus- 
tralians. "The makers of Australian songs, or of the combined 
songs and dances, are the poets, or bards, of the tribe, and are held in 
great esteem. Their names are known in the neighboring tribes, and 
their songs are carried from tribe to tribe, until the very meaning 
of the words is lost, as well as the original source of the song. It is 
hard to say how far and how long such a song may travel in the 
course of time over the Australian continent,'' p. 414. See also Kur- 
buru's song, composed and simg by a bard called Kurburu, p. 420, 
etc Howitt refers to one man who composed (see Umbara's songs, 
pp. 416, 423) when tossing about on the waves in a boat — ^not a very 
** communal " method of composition. 

^Chippewa Music, i, p. 126, No. 112: " Song of the Trees.'' 

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216 LOUISE poum) 

took it up and used it in their moccasin games. For many years it 
was used in this way, but he was always given the credit of its com- 

The rhythm of this song is peculiarly energizing, and when once 
established would undoubtedly have a beneficial physical effect. The 
surprising feature of this case, however, is that the song is said to 
have been composed and the rhythm created by the sick man him- 

It is interesting to note that many Indian songs are com- 
posed by women. The following are instances : 

. . . They [the women] would gather in groups at the lodge of 
the Leader of the war party, and in the hearing of his family would 
sing a Wc-ton song, which should carry straight to the far-away war- 
riors and help them to win the battle . . . The We^-ton song here 
given was composed by a Dakota woman.** 

It is said that the following [Chippewa] song was composed and 
sung on the field of battle by a woman named Omiskwa^wegijigo^kwe 
("woman of the red sky"), the wife of the leader, who went with 
him into the fight singing, dancing, and urging him on. At last she 
saw him kill a Sioux. Full of the fire of battle, she longed to play a 
man's part and scalp the slain. Custom forbade that Chippewa 
women use the scalping knife, although they carried the scalps in the 
victory dance. 


at that time 

if I had been a man 


a man 

I would have seized.** 

'•Hid,, p. 136, No. 121: "I am afraid of the Owl." 

»*/6«J., p. 96, No. 79: "Healing Song." Compare also Franz 
Boas on The Central Eskimo, Report Bureau of Ethnology, 1884-1885, 
p. 049 : " Besides these old songs and tales there are a great number 
of new ones, and, indeed, almost every man has his own tune and his 
own song. A few of these become great favorites among the Eskimo 
and are sung like our popular songs." 

■* Fletcher, Indian Btory and Song, Weton Song, pp. 81, 85. 

So also in the Omaha tribe: "We'tonwaan is an old and imtrans- 
latable word used to designate a class of songs composed by women 

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Odjib^e [a Chippewa] stated that his wife's brother was killed 
by the Sioux and that he organized a war party in return. The pur- 
pose of the expedition was to attack a certain Sioux Tillage located 
on an island in Sauk river, but before reaching the Tillage, the Chip- 
pewa met a war party of Sioux, which they pursued, killing one man. 
niere were nine Chippewa in OdjiVwe's party; not one was killed. 
They returned home at once and Odjib^we presented the Sioux scalp 
to his wife Dekum (" across ") who held it aloft in the victory dance 
as she sung the following song. 

our brother 
brings back.** 

Much further evidence of the composition of songs by 
Indian women might be cited.^® 

The preceding are specimen testimonies. They might 
be added to indefinitely, and from other than Indian 
sources. In accounts of African, Australian, or South 
American tribes, one comes invariably upon the instance 
of the individual who makes a song — ^very often in soli- 

and sung exclusiTely by them." — ^Fletcher and LaFlesche, The Omaha 
Tribe, 27th Report, Bureau of American Ethnology, p. 421; cf. pp. 
320-323 for other types of women's songs. 

"Chippeioa Muaio, n, p. Ill, No. 31: " If I Had Been a Man." 

••/WA, p. 121, No. 39: Song of De-kimi. ScTeral other songs 
composed by De-kum are giTen. 

* Compare Franz Boas, Ohvnook Lays, p. 224, Journal of American 
Folk-Lore, 1888: "The greater part of those I haTe collected were 
composed by women." He adds that for a great number of tunes the 
" text is only a meaningless burden." For songs of the Kiowa com- 
posed by a woman, see J. W. Mooney, The Ghost-Dance Religion, 14 
Report, Bureau of Ethnology, Part n, 1896, pp. 1083, 1086, etc. 
See also an article of interest by Alexander F. Chamberlain, Primi- 
tive Woman as Poet, Journal of American Folk-Lore, vol. xvi { 1903 ) , 
pp. 207 ff. 

R. H. Codrington writes of the Melanesians {The Melanesians: 
Studies in Their Anthropology and Folk-Lore, Oxford, 1891, p. 334) : 
'* A poet or poetess more or less distinguished is probably found in 
eTery considerable Tillage throughout the islands; when some remark- 
able eTent occurs, the launching of a canoe, a Tisit of strangers, or a 
feast, song-makers are engaged to celebrate it and rewarded," etc 

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tude — and the song is recognised as his. The great mass 
of primitive songs sung in communal or other gatherings 
are either portions of religious rituals, didactic, or, still 
oftener, magical in nature. Far from being improvised ^^ 
for the occasion, they are sedulously repeated verbatim, the 
least deviation from the rote form being the occasion, not 
infrequently, of an entire recommencement of the cere- 

Songs composed and sung by individuals and songs sung 
by groups of singers (or *' throngs," if you prefer) are to 
be found in the most primitive of living tribes. That in 
ike earliest stage there was group utterance only, arising 
from the folk-d-ance, is fanciful hypothesis. That primi- 
tive song is of group composition or collaboration, not in- 
dividual composition, is quite as fanciful. Again, as far 

•• Compare the testimony of Ramon Pane, concerning the Haytians, 
in Ferdinand Columbus's Life of Christopher Oolumhus, ch. 14: 
" They have all the superstitions reduced into old songs, and are di- 
rected by them, as the Moors by the Alcoran. When they sing these, 
they play on an instnunent made of wood. ... To that music they 
sing those songs they have got by heart. The chief men play on it, 
who learn it from their infancy, and so sing it according to their 

Substantially the same account is given by Peter Martyr d'Anghre- 
ra {De Orhe Novo, English trans, by MacNutt, New York, 1912, vol. i, 
p. 172) : "When the Spanish asked whoever had infected them with 
this mass of ridiculous beliefs, the natives replied that they received 
them from their ancestors, and that they had been preserved from 
time inmiemorial in poems which only the sons of chiefs were allowed 
to learn. These poems are learned by heart, for they have no writ- 
ing, and on feast days the sons of chiefs sing them to the people in 
the form of sacred chants." 

For the North American Indians, see, for example, Washington 
Matthews, Navaho Legends, Memoirs of the American Folk-Lore Bo- 
ciety, 1897. An account of Navaho traditional songs is given pp. 
23-27. See also note 273, p. 254, NiwaJio Music, by Prof. J. C. FUl- 
more. Miss Fletcher gives similar testimony concerning Indian tra- 
ditional lays. 

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back as we can go in the genesis of song<5raft, there are 
impromptu songs, the spontaneous utterance of present 
emotion, and there are traditional songs, survivals or 
revivals of the songs of the past.'*'' Among primitive peo- 
ples there is no such indissoluble connection between sing- 
ing and dancing as the italicized observations of Dr. 
Ehrenreich are supposed to imply. Neillier dancing nor 
song is invariably " choric " in savage any more than in 
civilized society. Solo dancing, for example, has been 
reported among the Semang of Perak, the Kwai, and the 
Andamanese, as well as among the American Indians and 
numerous other peoples. As for solo singing, the citations 
given speak for themselves.^® Even when the singing is 
choral, it is by no means always dance-song, nor accompan- 
ied by dancing. The Kaflirs are said to be fond of singing 
lustily together, but, if we may trust the observation, " a 
Kaffir differs from an European vocalist in this point, 
namely, that he always, if possible, sits down when he 
sings." ^® Surely these recumbent Kaffirs deserve italics 
quite as much as Dr. Ehrenreich's Botocudos.*^ 

" Improvisation exists among the Obongo, Australian, Fijiian, An- 
damanese, Zulu, Botocudo, and Eskimo tribes, as well as among the 
North American Indians. Traditional songs persist among the Kwai, 
Australian, Andamanese, Rock Vedda, Semang, Fijiian, Fuegian, and 
Eskimo tribes, as well as among the North American Indians. 

" See also citations in note 42. 

•J. E. Wood, UnciviUfsed Races of the World (Amer. ed., Hartford, 
1870), p. 208. 

^ We really know very little concerning the songs of the Botocudos. 
Dr. Ehrenreich's section dealing with them is very short, and he is 
chiefly interested in other things than song. These are the speci- 
mens he cites: — €^ang beim Tana. Chor: "Weib jung, stehlen 
nichts." Ein Weib singt: "Ich, ich will nicht (stehlen)." "Der 
H&uptling hat keine Furcht" — Zeitsohrifi fiir Eihnologie, vol. xrs, 
pp. 33, 61. 

Testimony concerning the songs of other BraziUan tribes may be 
found in J. B. Steere's Narrative of a Visit to the Indian Tribes of 

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220 LouiSB Ponin> 

The conoeption of individual song can be shown to exist 
among the very lowest peoples. Professor Gximmere's be- 
lief is that human beings get together for rhythmic move- 
ment, b^n to sing, and thus song is bom. But the same 
savage tribes that sing in groups tell stories in which indi- 
vidual songs appear. Among the myths of the wilder 
tribes of Eastern Brazil, for example, (illustrated in 
Selvagem, the well-known collection of Josei V. Couto de 
Magalhaes), there are many in which the composition and 
singing of songs by individuals form important incidents. 
This fact shows plainly that the authors of these myths 
were perfectly familiar with the conception of individual 
composition. Granting the manifestations of primitive 
singing and dancing throngs which seem so decisive to 
Professor Oummere, they are capable of quite other 
interpretations than those which he puts upon them. 

the Purus River, Annual Report of the Smithsonian Institution, 1001, 
pp. 363-393. The following are songs of the Hypurinfts (cannibals), 
and are individualistic in character: "The leaf that calls my lover 
when tied in my girdle" (Indian girl's song) ; "I have my arrows 
ready and wish to kill you "; " Now no one can say I am not a war- 
rior. I return victorious from the battle"; "I go to die, my enemy 
shall eat me." 

The following are some songs of the Paumari, a "humble cow- 
ardly people who live in deadly fear of the Hypurinfts": "My 
mother when I was little carried me with a strap on her back. But 
now I am a man I don't need my mother any more"; "The Toucan 
eats fruit in the edge of my garden, and after he eats he nngs"; 
"The jaguar fought with me, and I am weary, I am weary." The 
following they call the song of the turtle: "I wander, always 
wander, and when I get where I want to go I shall not stop, but 
still go on." 

Hunting songs of the Bakairl, of the Xingu river region, egoistic 
in character, are cited by Dr. Max Schmidt, Indianer$tudien in 
Zentralhraeilien, Berlin, 1905, pp. 421-424. 

The " I " of these songs of South American tribes cannot always 
be " racial." The context shows that, sometimes, at least, it must be 
egoistic, as in the individualistic songs of the North American 

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The "Ballad" as the Eablibst Poetic Fobm 

And now what truth is in the assumption that t3ie 
ballad-dance is the germ from which emerged the three 
separate arts, poetry, music, dance ? A passage by Profes- 
sor Moulton, affirming this, has been cited, and this pas- 
sage presents, without doubt, a view now widely accepted 
in the United States. 

Let us ask, first, in what sense the word " ballad " is 
used by those who derive poetry from it. Does Professor 
Moulton, for example, use the word ballad in its etymologi- 
cal sense of " dance song," leaving undetermined the char- 
acter of the words, whether meaningless vocables, purely 
lyrical, or prevailingly narrative ? Usually the classifica- 
tion " ballad " is employed of lyric verses having a narra- 
tive element. By " ballad " we are supposed to mean a 
narrative song, a story in verse, a short narrative told 
lyrically. It is a loose usage which permits scholars to use 
the word in the sense both of dance song and of lyrical nar- 
rative, in the same work ; the ambiguity is unnecessary.*^ 
If ballad means something like dance song, or choral dance, 
or folk-dance accompanied by improvisation and refrain, 
the term ballad-dance is tautological ; for all ballads involve 
dancing. One wishes for more precision. But this need 
not detain us here. 

In whichever sense the term ballad be used, it is some- 
what rash to place the ballad dance so certainly at the 
source of man's musical and poetical expression. We have 

*In which sense, for example, does Professor G. P. Krapp {The 
Rise of English Literary Prose, 1915, Preface) use " ballad " when he 
writes, " Poetry of primitive origins, for example the ballad, often at- 
tains a finality of form which art cannot better, but not so with 

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just seen that there is individual composition and singing, 
song unaccompanied by dancing, and dance unaccom- 
panied by song, as far down in the cultural scale as we 
can go. Certainly if ballad means, as usually it does, 
song^story, the ballad was not the earliest form of poetry; 
and primitive people never danced to ballads. The earli- 
est songs we can get track of are purely lyrical, not 
narrativa The melody is the important thing; the words, 
few in number and sometimes meaningless, are relatively 
negligible. Moreover, these songs are on many themes, or 
have many impulses beside festal dances. There are heal- 
ers* songs, conjurers' songs, hunting songs, game-songs, 
love songs, hymns, laments, victory songs, and lyrics of 
personal feeling and appeal The lullaby is as old a lyric 
form as we are likely to find. Who cares to aflSrm that 
lullabies were imknown to our aboriginal ancestors ? Yet 
the lullaby has nothing to do with the singing and dancing 
throng! Nor has that other very early species, the medi- 
cine man or healer's solos; nor have gambling or game 
songs,*^ or love songs. Primitive labor songs are social, 

^See Stewart Culin, Games of the North American Indian, 24 
Report, Bureau of Ethnology, 1907, for an account of singing in the 
Moccasin or Hidden-BaU game, pp. 335 ff . Solo singing among the 
Chippewa is mentioned, p. 341, among the Menmninee, p. 343, the 
Miami, p. 344, the Seneca, p. 350, the Wyandot, p. 351, etc. See 
also Edward Sapir, Bong Recitative in Paiute Mythology, Journal of 
American Folk-Lore, 1910, p. 455, vol. xxm: "QeneraUy Indian 
music is of greatest significance when combined with the dance in 
ritualistic or ceremonial performances. Nevertheless the importance 
of music in non-ceremonial acts — ^for instance in the hand-game 
played by all the tribes west of the Rockies — should not be mini- 

There are solo-singing Bantu, Zulu, Fuegian, etc., witch-doctors 
and medicine men, as well as solo-singing North American Indian 
medicine men and gamesters. See also, for some instances of solo 
singing, H. A. Junod, Lea Ohantee et lea Oontea dea Ba-Rongc^ pp. 
39, 44, etc., Lausanne, 1897; also G. Landtman, The Poetry of the 

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but they do not involve dancing, and they are not hallads. 
The class that is nearest the real ballad, in that it is based 
on happenings, or on the composer's experiences, is not by 
any means the largest or the most important group for 
primitive song. Songs of tiiis latter type may be suggested 
by some event, or may present some situation; but they 
tell no story in the sense of real telling. That demands 
length, elaboration, completeness, beyond primitive 
powers. If we try to fix chronology, it is most plausible 
to begin with rhythmic action and with melody. Profes- 
sor Oummere thinks that melody is bom of rhythmic ac- 
tion. But vocal action of the singing type, i. e., melody, 
may well be as instinctive in man as in birds. Action and 
melody in singing may well have come together ; for song 
interprets primarily feeling, emotion, not motion. In any 
case, words came later than melody, and real narrative 
later yet. As a lyrical species, the narrative song is a late, 
not an early, poetical development. If we look at what 
certain evidence we have, primitive songs are very brief, 
the words are less important than the music, indeed they 
need hardly be present; and they rarely tell a story. I 
have found no case in which a primitive song tells a story 
with real elaboration or completeness. Nor need Ihese 
songlets -always have their origin in the choral — specifi- 
cally in the improvisation and communal elaboration of a 
festal dance. Why, then, apply the term ballad to the 
brief and simple lyrical utterances^ often nothing more 
than the repetition of a few syllables, or of one syllable, 

Kiwai Papuant, Folk-Lore, vol. xxiv (1913), p. 308; Howitt, The 
Native Trihea of South-Eaet Australia, pp. 275, 388, 396-399; James 
Cowan, The Maoris of New Zealand, pp. 218, 219; E. H. Qomes, 
Seventeen Tears Among the Bea Dyaks of Borneo, pp. 225, 226, 228, 
as 'The song of mourning is among some tribes sung by a profes- 
sional waller, generaUy a woman." 

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which — according to the evidence — ^makes up the great 
body of primitive song ? 

But it is time to bring up a few illustrations. 

First place may well be given to the words of Miss Alice 
Fletcher, who has had thirty-five years of acquaintance 
with Indian music : 

The word 'song' to our ears, suggests words arranged in metrical 
form and adapted to be 'set to music/ as we say. The native word 
which is translated 'song* does not suggest any use of words. To the 
Indian, the music is of primal importance, words may or may not 
accompany the music. When words are used in a song, they are 
rarely employed as in a narrative, the sentences are not apt to be 
complete. In songs belonging to a reUgious ceremony the words 
are few and partake of a mnemonic character. They may refer to 
some symbol, may suggest the conception or the teaching the symbol 
stands for, rarely more than that. Vocables are frequently added 
to the word or words to eke out the musical measure. It sometimes 
happens that a song has no words at all, only vocables are used to 
float the voice. Whether vocables alone are used or used in con- 
nection with words, they are never a random collection of syUables. 
An examination of hundreds of songs shows that the vocables used 
faU into classes; one class is used for songs denoting action, an- 
other class for songs of a contemplative character, and it is also 
noted that when once vocables are adapted to a song they are never 
changed but are treated as if th^ were actual words.^* 

She writes elsewhere to the same effect: 

In Indian song and story we come upon a time when poetry is not 
yet differentiated from story and story not yet set free from song. 
We note that the song clasps the story as part of its being, and the 
story itself is not fully told without the cadence of the song. . . . 
The difference between spontaneous Indian melodies and the composi- 
tions of modern masters would seem to be not one of kind but of 
degree. . . . Many Indian songs have no words at aU, vocables only 
being used to float the voice.^* 

The investigator of Ojibway song also finds the melody 

"•The study of Indian MuHo, 1916, pp. 231-232. 
** Indian Story and Song, pp. 121, 124, 125. 

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to be more important than tiie words, and has nothing to 
say of an inevitable relation between dancing and song: 

His [the Ojibway] poetry is not only inseparable but indistin- 
goishable from music. . . . Amcmg all civilized peoples the art of 
expression through verse is one thing, and the art of expression 
through modulated tones is quite another, linked though they often 
are by the deliberate intent of the composer, and always associated 
in the popular mind; in the Ojibway conception the two arts are 
not merely linked inseparably, they are fused in one. . .^^ 

Hie Ojibway is more gifted in music than in poetry; he has 
wrought out a type of beautiful melody, much of it perfect in form; 
his verse, for the most part, has not emerged from the condition of 
raw mat6rial.4<t 

He does sing his new melody to meaningless syllables, tentatively 
correcting it here and there, but meantime experimenting with words 
that convey meaning; and the probability is that the precise senti- 
ment of the words finally accepted is established by rhythmic con- 
siderations, those that fall readily into the scheme of accents appeal- 
ing to him as the most suitable vehicle for the melody.^? 

The melody and the idea are the essential parts of a Mid4 song. 
Sometimes only one or two words occur in a song. . . . Many of the 
words used in a Midd song are unknown in the conversational Chip- 
pewa of the present time.^^ 

A number of Chippewa songs, as transcribed, have no words. Some 
of these songs originally may have had words and in a limited num- 
ber of love songs the words partake so much of the nature of a 
soliloquy that they cannot conveniently be translated and given with 
the music. The words of most of the Chippewa songs are few in 
number and suggest rather than express the idea of the song. Only 
in the love songs and in few of the Mid4 songs are the words con- 

^ Burton, Atnerican Primitive Music, p. 106. 

^/Md., p. 172. 

*'/6id., p. 173. 

* Frances Densmore, Chippewa Musio, i, 1910, pp. 14, 15. 

^rbid,f n, 1913, p. 2. Similarly Washington Matthews, Journal 
of Amerioan Folk-Lore, 1894, p. 186, writes of traditional songs 
among the Navahos, "One song consists almost exclusively of mean- 
ingless or archaic vocables. Yet not one syllable may be forgotten 
or misplaced." 

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Such evidence may be multiplied indefinitely.*^^ The 
brevity of Indian songs is striking. Many have few words, 
some one word, and some no words. The songs of other 
savage peoples show the same characteristic. There are 
one-word traditional poems among the African Kwai, and 
two-word traditional poems of the Botocudos and the Es- 
kimos. These are not narrative songs, and they need not 
be dance songs; for savage peoples do not always dance 
their verses. They are not, theii, " ballads." Nor need 
they have any relation to choral improvisation. 

Literary historians have dwelt too much, it seems to me, 
on the festal throng and communal improvisation and the 
folk-dance, when dealing with the " beginnings of poetry," 
until the whole subject has been thrown out of focus. The 
term ballad might well be left out of account altogether 
and reserved for the lyric species, appearing late in liter- 
ary history, the " epic in little," or " short narrative told 
lyrically" exemplified in the conventional ballad collec- 
tions. If we are to mean by ballads narrative songs like 
those of the middle ages, or narrative songs wherever they 
appear, we should certainly cease placing the ballad at the 
source of primitive poetry. It is not proved that tiie bal- 
lad, in any sense, came first, or even that choral songs pre- 
ceded solos. It is likely enough that choral song and solos 
co-existed from the beginning, or even that solos preceded, 
for all that can be certainly known. The assumption that 
group power to sing, to compose songs, and to dance, pre- 
cedes individual power to do these things,^^ is fatuously 

""It is obvious to the student of n^gro songs that these songs 
tend to retrograde to the simple repetition of phrases rather than 
to assume a narrative type. 

"Erich Schmidt ("Anfftnge der Literatur/' p. 9, in KuUur der 
Gegenwart, Leipzig, 1906, i) writes: . . . schon well keine Idasse 
nur den einfachsten Satz unisona improvisieren kann und alle roman- 
tischen Schw&rmereien von der urheberlos singenden '' Volksseele " 

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speculative. It rests neitter on " overwhelming evidence " 
nor on probability. The individual ought to be able to 
engage in rhythmic motion^ to compose tunes, and then to 
evolve words for these tunes, at least as early as he is able 
to do these things along with others of his kind. And let 
it be said again that it is safer to aflSrm that the primitive 
lyric, whether individual or choral, is not the ballad but 
the song — ^more strictly, the songlet. 

Improvisation and Folk-Song 

From the preceding discussion, it seems clear that it is 
time to instil caution into our association of the primitive 
festal throng improvising and collaborating, and hypo- 
thetical throngs of peasants or villagers collaborating in 
the creation of the English and Scottish popiilar ballads. 
Primitive song and the mediaeval ballads are separate 
phenomena, with a tremendous gulf in time and civiliza- 
tion between. No doubt some of the choral improvisations 
of savage peoples found or find permanence, as is the case 
with individual improvisations, and also with songs 
thought out in solitude — or '^ dreamed " in the Indian 
way. But such songs — consisting of a few words, or a 
few lines monotonously repeated — are quite a different 

eitel Dunst sind, muss sich Sondervortrag iind Massenausbruch sehr 
frfih gliedem. Einer schreit zuerst, einer singt und springt zuerst, 
die Menge macht es ihm nach, entweder treuUch oder indem sie bei 
unartikulierten Refrains, bei einzelnen Worten, bei wiederkebrendoi 
Sfttzen beharrt. 

In this connection, since it deserves to be cited somewhere, may 
be quoted a passage from Ton Humboldt: "The Indians pretend that 
-wh&k the araguatos [howling monk^s] fill the forests with their 
howling, there is always one that chaunts as leader of the chorus." — 
A. Yon Humboldt, Travels in the Equinootial Regions of America, 
Bohn edition, vol. u, p. 70. 

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thing from improvisations of length, having a definite 
narrative element, and high artistic value as poetry. Most 
primitive improvisations are no tax on the memory, and 
hardly, in view of their brevity, on the creative power.^* 
A singer with a good voice and a turn for melody might 
succeed, whether he could compose words very well or not. 

But when it is affirmed that improvising folk-throngs 
created the literary type appearing in the English and 
Scottish ballads of the Child collection, pieces like " The 
Hunting of the Cheviot," the Robin Hood pieces, " Sir 
Patrick Spens," " Lord Randal," etc., the affirmation is 
pure — and not too plausible — conjecture. We have to do 
with long, finished narratives, obeying regular stanzaic 
structure, provided with rhyme, and telling a whole story 
— ^pretty completely in older versions, more reducedly in 
the later. To assume that ignorant uneducated people 
composed these, having the power to do so just because 
they were ignorant and uneducated — ^that is quite a differ- 
ent thing, and it finds no support in the probabilities. 

Of late years a considerable number of pieces composed 
by groups of imleamed people whose community life 
socialized their thinking have been made available to stu- 
dents of folk song, namely American cowboy and lumber- 
man songs, and negro spirituals. It is hardly likely that 
human ability has fallen greatly since the middle ages ; yet 

**In the field of primitive ritual Bong there are many feats of 
memory that are quite wonderful. Long years are required for an 
Indian to become a really adept renderer of tribal rituals. See, 
for examples of verbal length, in the 27th Report of the Bureau of 
American Ethnology, the ritual song of 39 lines on p. 42, or that 
of 50 lines on pp. 571-572, at the bottom very nobly poetic. Similar 
examples are to be found ii^ other tribes. Also there is something 
remotely analogous to ballad structure in such ritual songs as are 
giv^i on pp. 206-242 of The Eako. But these ritual songs are not 
improvisations; nor are they of ''communal" rendering. 

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when we see what is the best that communal composition 
can achieve now, and are asked to believe what it created 
some centuries ago, the discrepancy becomes unbeliev- 
able.'* The American pieces which, according to their 
collectors, have been communally composed, or at least 
emerged from the ignorant and unlettered in isolated re- 
gions, afford ample testimony in style, structure, quality, 
and technique to the fact that the English and Scottish 
popular ballads could not have been so composed, nor their 
type so established. In general, real communalistic or 
peoples' poetry, as we can place the finger on it, composed 
in the collaborating manner emphasized by Professor Gum- 
mere and Professor Kittredge, is crude, structureless, in- 
cdierent, and lacking in striking and memorable qualities. 
There are now many collections of American folk-song, 
made in many States. In these collections, the pieces of 
memorable quality are exactly those for which folk-com- 
position can not be claimed. The few rough improvisa- 
tions which we can identify as emerging from the folk 
themselves — ^which we actually know to be the work of un- 
lettered individuals or throngs — are those farthest from 
the Child ballads in their general characteristics and in 
their worth as poetry. Nor is t!here a single instance of 
such an improvisation developing into a good piece, or 
becoming, as time goes on, anything like a Child ballad.. 
Yet they emerged from throngs no less homogeneous, per- 
haps more homogeneous than the mediaeval peasants and 

The most homogeneous groups in the world are doubt- 
less the military groups ; yet war and march songs are al- 

•• See my New-World Anahguea of the English tmd Boottish Popvr 
Jar Ballads, the Mid-West Quarterly, April, 1916. Also The Sovtth 
western Cowboy Bongs and the English and Boottish PoptUar Ballads, 
Modem Philology, October, 1913. 


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ways appropriated, never composed by the soldiers. The 
examples afforded by the war for the Union are still 
familiar ; the favorite song developed by the Cuban war ^* 
was adapted from a French-Creole song; and we know 
the origin of the songs popular among the soldiers in the 
present European war. If the " homogeneity '' theory has 
any value, it ought to find illustrations in army life. And 
do prisoners in stripes and lock step ever invent songs? 
Gh-anting the "communal conditions'^ theory, our peni- 
tentiaries should be veritable fountains of song and bal- 
ladry. As a matter of fact, the most famous of prison 
ballads is the masterpiece of an accomplished poet, — 
Wilde's " Ballad of Heading Gaol." 

Another thing shown by modem collections of folk-song 
is Ihat the songs preserved among the folk are nearly cer- 
tain not to be those composed by them. Those they make 
themselves are just about the first to die. Usually some 
special impetus, some cause for persistence or popularity, 
is to be detected for the pieces that live. And tiie striking 
or memorable qualities, or the special mode of diffusion, 
necessary to bring vitality are just what tiie genuine 
" communal '' folk-pieces do not and cannot have. 

The test of subject-matter should also be taken into ac- 
count, when we are considering the likelihood that some 
process akin to the processes of primitive choral song and 
dance — continued through untold centuries among villag- 
ers and peasants — ^produced the Child ballads. Perhaps 
I may be permitted to quote my own words here : 

. . . The real communal pieces, as we can identify them, deal with 
the life and the interests of the people who compose them. They 
do not occupy themselves with the stories and the lives of the class 
above them. The cowboy pieces deal with cattle trails, barrooms, 
broncho riding, not with the lives of ranch-owners and employers; 

»♦ Joseph T. Miles, "A Hot Itoe in the Old Town Ttanight." 

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and the negro piece deals with the boll weevil, not with the adven- 
tures of the owners of the plantations. Songs well-attested as emerg- 
ing from the laboring folk throngs of the Old- World deal with the 
interests of factory life or agricultural life, or with the adventures 
of those of the social class singing or composing the songs. What 
then must we think of the English and Scottish ballads, if the people 
composed them? Their themes are not at all of the character to 
be expected. They are not invariably on the work, or on episodes 
in the life of the ignorant and lowly. Would they have had so great 
vitality or have won such currency if they had dealt with labourers, 
ploughmen, spinners, peasants, common soldiers, rather than with 
aristocrats? The typical figures in the ballads are kings and prin- 
cesses, knights and ladies, — ^Eing Estmere, Toung Beichan, Young 
Hunting, Lord Randal, Earl Brand, Edward, Sir Patrick Spens, 
Edom o'Gordon, Lord Thomas and Fair Annet, Lady Maisry, Proud 
Lady Margaret, or leaders like the Percy and the Douglas. We 
learn next to nothing concerning the humbler classes from them; 
less than from Froissart's Chronicles, far less than from Chauc^. 
The life is not that of the hut or the village, but that of the bower 
and the halL Nor is the language parallel to that of the cowboy 
and negro pieces. It has touches of professionalism, stock poetic 
formulae, alliteration, traces of the septenar meter. It is not rough, 
flat, crude, in the earlier and undegenerated versions; instead there 
is much that is poetic, telling, beautiful. It is for its time much 
nearer the poetry coming from professional hands than what might 
be expected from medinval counterparts of 71^ Old OhuhoUn Trail 
and The BoU Weevil, No doubt there existed analogues of these 
pieces, i. e., songs which were sung by and were the creation of ignor- 
ant and unlettered villagers; but we may be certain that these 
medieval analogues were not the Child ballads." 

On the whole, the type of the medifleval hallad, with 
choral refrain, is more likely to have emerged from medise- 
val music — ^to have been determined by the kind of melo- 
dies which prevailed, the lyrical treatment given them, or 
the type of dance they accompanied — ^than to be the amaz- 
ingly persistent legacy of the dance-songs of primitive 
man. It is far less likely that primitive man established the 
lyrical species we now call ballad ^^ than that this species 

■ The Mid-West Quwrterly, April, 1916, pp. 179-180. 
" Of '' incremental repetition," often emphasized as inherited from 
primitive poetry, and held to be the surest proof of the oommunal 

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derived from the aristocratic song, or dance, or minstrel 
modes, of the mediseval bower and the hall. The English 
and Scottish ballads should no longer be inevitably re- 
lated to primitive singing and dancing throngs, improvi- 
sing and collaborating. We can not look upon creations 
of such length, structure, coherence, finish, artistic value, 
adequacy of expression, as emerging from the communal 
improvisation of simple uneducated folk-throngs. This 
view might serve so long as we had no clear evidence be- 
fore us as to the kind of thing that the improvising folk- 
muse is able to create. When we see what is the best the 
latter can do, under no less favorable conditions, at the 
present time, we remain skeptical as to the power of the 
mediaeval rustics and villagers. The mere fact that the 
mediaeval throngs are supposed to have danced while they 
sung, whereas modem cowboys, lumbermen, ranchmen, or 
negroes do not, should not have endowed the mediaeval 
muse with such striking superiority of product. 

The subjects, the authorship and composition of primi- 
tive song, and the authorship and composition of the Eng- 
lish and Scottish popular ballads, are distinct; and, for 
both, the tmqualified aflSrmation of "communal" origin 
should no longer be made. 

Louise Pouin). 

origin of the ballad type, Mr. John Robert Moore {The Influm^oe of 
Tranamiaaion on the Englieh Ballade, Modem Language Review, n, 
1916, p. 398) writes: '' Unfortunately ... the facts seem to make 
Uttle provision for the theory; for it is the simple ballads which 
most often have the fixed refrain, and the broadsides which exhibit 
the most marked use of incremental repetition. Furthermore, when 
oral tradition adds a refrain to an original printed broadside, it is 
only a simple refrain, without the structural device otf accretion 
which Professor Gummere considers so characteristic" . . . 

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Notwithgtanding the pre-eminence of Oeorge Henry 
Boker in our dramatic literature before the Civil War, an 
eminence not seriously threatened in America except by 
Bobert Montgomery Bird, no accurate account of his life 
has been published and nowhere is available even a trustr 
worthy statement of the productions of his plays.^ Several 
of his dramas remain unpublished in manuscript and even 
their existence is known apparently to but few. I shall 
not attempt here to go into detail concerning his life, but 
will endeavor to give the facts concerning his plays that 
have come to li^t in the course of my examination of the 
Boker manuscripts kindly placed at my disposal by Mrs. 
George Boker, the daughter-in-law of the dramatist. 

George Henry Boker was bom in Philadelphia on Octo- 
ber 6, 1823. His father, Charles S. Boker, was president 
of the Girard ^National Bank, and the lawsuit which re- 
sulted from his son's determination to protect his father's 
memory from slander culminated in 1882 in the produc- 
tion of the elegy The Booh of the Dead, in which the elder 
Boker's detractors are pilloried. Boker graduated from 
Princeton CoU^e in 1842 and studied law with John Sar- 
geant in Philadelphia, but never practised it. He married 
in 1844 Miss Julia Mandeville Eiggs of Georgetown, 
D. C, and after foreign travel determined to write. His 
first publication in book form was The Lesson of Life and 
Other Poems, published in 1848. The title poem is an 
ethical discourse in blank verse and Ihere is nothing of 
real significance among the early poems. None of them 

^ Since this was written, a brief statement concerning the dates of 
his plays has been published by the present writer in his Repreaenta- 
five Ameriown Plays, New York, 1917. 

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was reprinted in the collected edition of 1856. The son- 
nets give only a slight promise of Boker's later power as a 
sonnetteer, although it is interesting to note that from the 
beginning they were written in the Italian form. The 
translations oi Athelstan's Victory at Brunanburh and of a 
few lines from Beowulf show his early appreciation of 
the structure as well as of the poetical qualities of Old 

His first play, Calaynos, was published in 1848. It was 
first produced in London at the Sadlers Wells Theatre on 
May 10, 1849 ^' without the author's consent and with con- 
siderable alteration. In this version Samuel Phelps played 
Calaynos and G. R. Dickenson, Oliver. The cast as given 
in the copy printed in London, n. d., is as follows : 

Calaynos Mr. Phelps 

Don Luis Mr. H. Marston 

Don Guzman Mr. Belford 

Don Miguel Mr. Harrington 

Don Lopez Mr. Harris 

Oliver Mr. G. R. Dickenson 

Soto Mr. Hoskins 

First Usurer Mr. Franks 

Second Usurer 

Baltazar Mr. WiUdns 

Pedro Mr. C. Fenton 

Friar Gil Mr. H. Melton 


Guests, Nobles, Attendants, Servants, Usurers, etc. 

Donna Alda Miss Cooper 

Martina Mrs. H. Marston 

Calaynos was first played in this country at the Wlalnut 
Street Theatre, Philadelphia, Monday, January 20, 1851,^ 
and ran for nine nights, James E. Murdoch taking the 

^ This date of the production of the play is based on a written 
statement by Mr. Boker, found among the MSS. 
' Statement of receipts from Walnut Street Theatre, Bc^er mss. 

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part of Calaynos. It was played in Chicago August 19tli 

and 23d, 1851, by Murdoch, who also produced it three 

nights in Baltimore and in Albany. In Durang's History 

of (he Philadelphia Stage, under date of December 1, 

1851, appears this statement: 

December let, the tragedy of Oalayno$, written by G. H. Boker, 
Esq., of Philadelphia, was revived, in which Mr. G. R. Dickenson, 
a popular actor from Saddler's Wells Theater, made his first appear- 
ance in America as Oliver, having played it originally at the above 
theater, when it was first produced at London; Mr. Couldock as 

Mr. Couldock was during that season a regular member 
of the stock company of the Walnut Street Theatre. 

It was revived April 13, 1855 at the Walnut Street 
Theatre, Philadelphia, by E. L. Davenport.* 

There is also evidence in the typewritten copy of 1886 
that Lawrence Barrett was seriously considering the re- 
vival of Calaynos, since he has outlined a cast, including 
himself as Calaynos, and there are marked throughout 
the play the cuts and rearrangements that were to prepare 
it for the stage. 

It is interesting to compare the changes made by Phelps, 
as reflected in the London edition, with those made by 
Barrett. The plot of Calaynos must, however, be outlined 
as given in the edition of 1848. 

The main theme of the tragedy is the dislike of the 
Spaniards for Moorish blood. 

Calaynos is a wealthy nobleman who lives at a distance frcnn the 
capital and is summoned by the king to Seville. His wife, Dofia 
Alda, wishes to ^o with him but he does not allow her to do so, so 
her maid, Martina, tries to make her more discontented than she is, 
and Calaynos is warned by Oliver, his Secretary, and by Friar Gil 
not to go to Seville, as they feel that wrong will come of it. In Act 

•Charles Durang, History of the Philadelphia Stage, 1749-1S55, 
Third Series, Chapter cxn. 
* Durang, op. oit,, Third Series, Chap. czxn. 

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n, which takes place in Seville, Don Luis, a spendthrift^ is intro- 
duced and Galaynos, who is his friend, helps him to pay his creditors, 
believing him to be an honorable man. Oliver tries to trip up Don 
Luis and his creditors but does not succeed. Oalaynos brings Don 
Luis home to -his Castle in Act m and he falls in love with Dofta 
Alda and attempts to seduce her. Martina and Soto, Don Luis' 
servant, strike up a flirtation also. Don Luis hears of Calaynos' 
Moorish taint and uses it to try to persuade Alda to leave him. Don 
Luis persuades her to meet him in the grand hall of the palace at 
two o'clock, and she is so overcome at the thought of her husband 
having Moorish blood in him that she swoons and he carries her off. 
In the last Act Dofia Alda returns after some months to die at the 
Castle. Calaynos goes to Seville and challenges Luis and kills him 
in a duel, Calaynos being wounded to death in the duel and Oliver 
coming in in time to see him die. 

Phelps and Barrett cut the play differently. Phelps 
simply cut out sections of several lines and apparently 
with less care. Barrett cut lines with more individual 
discrimination, apparently paying less attention to the 
poetic worth than to the stage value and the importance 
of the person who is speaking. For example, in one of 
Martina's speeches in Act i. Scene i, describing the court, 
Barrett cut out eigjit of the eighteen lines, while Phelps 
played it entire. This scene has good lines, but is more 
descriptive than dramatic.^ 

Among the Boker mss. is a copy of the London reprint, 
revised by Boker, with Scene ii and Scene iii of Act v re- 
written in Boker's hand. The 1848 edition had concluded 
with a duel between Calaynos and Don Luis in a field. 
Boker took the idea of ending the play in the banquet hall 
from the last scene of the London edition, and has altered 
it considerably. In all the published editions, however, 
the original scene is preserved. This copy possesses cer- 
tain interest, since it was the acting version used by Mur^ 
doch in the revival in 1851 in Philadelphia. 

•P. 26, ed. of 1848. 

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In 1886 Boker revised his plays, evidently with the in- 
tention of publication, but the 1891 edition was printed 
from the old plates. In this revision, Calaynos was rather 
extensively dianged, and the form was improved from the 
point of view of dramatic effectiveness. The opening 
scene between Pedro and Baltazar is omitted in Act i. 
In Act n Calaynos and Don Luis meet more effectively, as 
Calaynos is recognized by Don Luis, who is brought before 
the Court on a criminal charge, and who recognizes Calay- 
nos and is saved by him. In Act lu the scene between 
Calaynos and Oliver, which Phelps had omitted, is also 
left out in this 1886 revision. Calaynos tells Don Luis 
that he is a Moor, and this makes the latter's perfidy great- 
er. In Act rv^ the opening scene between Don Luis and 
Soto is omitted. Then Don Luis and Soto plan to meet 
Alda at night. They do this without the appointment 
found in the earlier version. 

In Act V Alda dies on the stage instead of off it. Act vi 
is made up of Scene ii and Scene iii of Act v. The scene 
moves more successfully on account of some omissions. 
The revellers come out of the banquet hall and Calaynos' 
followers encircle them. Calaynos forces Don Luis to 
fight and the end is shortened and seems to be more effec- 
tive. These changes are, of course, of most value as show- 
ing Boker's development in the art of dramatic construc- 
tion, since the play in the final revision is more effective 
than in the published form. 

The next play to be written was Anne BoUyn. A title 
was filed in the copyright ofiice September 28, 1849, and 
the book itself on January 2, 1850. Boker intended the 
play for the stage. In a letter to Richard Henry Stoddard • 

•R. H. Stoddard, Otorge Hmry Boker, in lAppinootfs Mttgamne, 
vol. XLV, p. 857 (June 1890). 

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on September 5^ 1849, he states that he has had overtures 
from the Haymarket Theatre for the play and that he in- 
tends sending early sheets to London. He had assurances, 
too, from Charlotte Cushman that she would bring it out 
in this country, provided she believed her powers adapted 
to it. 

There are among the manuscripts separate ^^ parts" 
for the characters in Anne Boleyn, and the play was evi- 
dently being considered favorably by some producing mana- 
ger. It was, however, not performed and it is doubtful 
whether it would have had success upon the stage. The 
central theme, that of a girl-queen attacked by a group of 
cold-blooded noblemen who conspire to ruin her through 
exciting the king's jealousy, and who are aided by King 
Henry the Eighth's infatuation for Jane Seymour, is 
dramatic, surely; for we have the strong motive of self- 
preservation in conflict with the motive of love and that 
of ambition. The difficulty lies in the fact that there is 
no real sympathy for Anne ; for no matter how false Henry 
the Eighth or how base Jane Seymour may be, the thought 
remains with us that strict justice is being meted out to 
Anne for her earlier conduct toward Katherine. 

From the point of view of dramatic structure, too, the 
play is not the equal of Caiaynos, to say nothing of the 
plays that were to come. There is too much monologue 
and dialogue, and the defense of Anne is weakened by 
being delivered after the trial is over. She does not rise 
to even the greatness of remorse when the visions of Kath- 
erine, of More, and of others rise to torment her. The 
only flashes of inspiration come in the first scene of the 
Fourth Act, when Sir Henry Norris defies the king in his 
efforts to corrupt him, and in the soliloquy of Thomas 
Wyatt, in the second scene of the same Act, beginning 
" O coming shape of English liberty.'^ 

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The Betrothal was the third play to be written and the 
second to be placed upon the stage. It was composed 
probably about February, 1850, and was first played at 
the Walnut Street Theatre, Philadelphia, on September 
25, 1850, where it ran for ten nights.^ 

It was revived in Philadelphia next year; for in Dur- 
ang's ® history we read : 

December 6th [1851], Mr. Craddock's benefit — a revival of the 
popular play of The BetrotJ^al, writt^i especially for Mr. E. A. Mar- 
shairs theater by G. H. Boker, Esq., and performed during the last 
season with as briUiant success as ever greeted any production with- 
in the walls of the edifice. 

It was played at the Broadway Theatre, New York, 
from November 18 to November 30, 1850 • inclusive, with 
the exception of November 24th, and again from Decem- 
ber 30, 1850 to January 3, 1851 • inclusive. No record 
has been found of the first cast but that in New York was 
as follows : 

Marquis di Tiburzzi, a decayed nobleman Mr. Fredericks 

Count JuraniOy a wealthy nobleman Mr. F. Conway 

Salvatore, his kinsman Mr. Richings 

Marzio, a wealthy merchant Mr. Couldock 

Pietro Rogo, his friend Mr. Whiting 

Pultiy servant to Marzio Mr. Davidge 

Costanza, Daughter to the Marquis Mme. Ponisi 

Filippia, her cousin Mrs. Abbot 

Marchioness di Tiburzzi Mrs. Hield 

As Marshall was manager of both the Walnut Street 

Theatre and the Broadway Theatre at this time, this cast 

probably contained some of the original players. 

In TJie Betrothal, which is a romantic comedy in blank, verse, the 
main plot centers upon the efforts of the Marchioness di Tiburzzi to 

* Boker icss. 

' Durang's History of the Philadelphia Stage, Third Series, Chapter 
' Boker icss. 

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many her daughter, Costanza to Marzio, a rich merchaaty to aid in 
restoring the family fortunes. Count Juranio falls in love with 
Costanza and she with him, but she refuses to break her word, given 
to marry Marzio. Salvatore, Juranio's friend, has Marzio watched 
and also challenges him and proves his cowardice. The Marquis 
who has agreed to the marriage only because he believed Costanza in 
love with Marzio, begins to suspect that he has been deceived. Marzio 
bribes his servant, Pulti, to poison Juranio and Salvatore at the be- 
trothal feast, but Pulti tells Salvatore and it is arranged that the 
apparent poison shall be put in Marzio's own glass. He betrays 
himself under the influence of the drug and Salvatore catches him 
in his own trap, winning Costanza for Juranio and Filippia f<ff 

The play is a definite improvement on Anne Boleyn and 
Calaynas. It moves more quickly and there is a sense of 
the characters dominating the situation^ especially in the 
last Acty which makes for real drama. The long solilo- 
quies are not so conspicuous and in the dialogues the lan- 
guage becomes more natural. An example of the verse 
from Act iii, Scene i will show these qualities of style: 

Juranio. Costanza di Tiburzzi, ere I go. 

Listen. I love you with a single heart. 

I do confess much folly in the deeds 

To which love drew me. Hidden by yon bower — 

While peeping buds unfolded into flowers — 

Wbile infant leaves imcurled their tiny scrolls. 

And, full-grown, basked them in the mellow sun — 

While all creation was an active hymn 

Of ceaseless labor to approving God — 

I have stood idly, though the dear time sped. 

Waiting to catch the faintest glimpse of you. 

Then, happy with that treasure of my sense. 

Have hied me home, to flll my waking thoughts 

With growing fancies; or, through fleeting night 

Made my dreams golden with the memory 

Of what had blessed my day. I cover nothing: 

I have no skill nor wish to circumvent you. 

You know the mystery of my presence here; 

You know the secret of my love, — ah! yes; 

You knew it ere I spoke it. You can lift, 

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By oonfirmation of your former words, 

A sinking heart to rapture. Speak, 0, speak! 

My fate hangs on your mercy! 

Durang speaks of l!he likeness of the play to Love's 
Sacrifice of LovelL There is, however, little in common 
between the two plays. There is more similarity between 
The Betrothal and Nathaniel Parker Willis's play Tortesa 
the Usurer, played in 1839. But there is not enough like- 
ness in any case to affect the originality of The Betrothal. 
For diaracter drawing, expression, and dramatic effective- 
ness, it is surpassed only by Leonor de Qvaman and Fran- 
cesca da Rindtd. 

The Betrothal was played in England in 1853. In a 
letter from Boker to Stoddard,^** October 9, 1853, an ao- 
count is given of its performance and its reception: 

I have read the Times notice of The Betrothal, It is honey to 
most of the other newspaper criticisms. So far as I can gather the 
facts from private letters, the play, to begin with, was very badly 
played: the English playwriters had raised the hue and cry against 
it. "Ham-string him! Slay him! Cut him down!" was the uni- 
versal cry of my brother dramatists. Notwithstanding, and taking 
the accounts of my enemies for authority, the play was imusually 
successful with the audience on that most trying occasion, the first 
night. This only added to the gall of my brother dramatists, and 
increased their exhibition of it in the newspapers; so that after two 
nights of success with the audience, the manager was so terrified by 
the howl of the press, and by the furious personal applications that 
he withdrew the play to save himself. I believe I have stated the 
strict truth, ergo, the play still stands a monument of English in- 
justice. Mark you, it was not prejudice that caused the catastro- 
phe; it was fear lest I should get a footing on their stage, of which 
Oalayno9 had given them timely warning. 

The next play to be performed has never been printed. 
It exists in manuscript in three forms. There is an auto- 
graph manuscript, undated, with the title All the World 
a Mask. A copy, not in Boker's hand, but vrith auto- 

^Lippineotfs Maga0me, vol. XLV, p. 8S6. 

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graph notes, has a printed title page, bearing the title. 
" The Worid a Mask, a Comedy, Phila-, 1851. Entered 
according to Act of Congress in the year, 1851, by George 
H. Boker.'' There is also a typewritten copy with the 
title Under a Mask, dated 1886. 

Since Boker^s autograph statement refers only to his 
printed plays, even he did not mention The World a Mask 
as having been performed. The evidence, however, is 
clear. Among the manuscripts is an account of the re- 
ceipts of the play when performed at the WUnut Street 
Theatre, Philadelphia, for a run of eight nights, beginning 
April 21, 1851. 

The scene of The World a Mask is laid in London in 

The dramatis personcB are: 

Sir Hugh Blumer 

^l^^^^M His Nephews 
Rylton / 



Lord Row 

Captain Fleet, An Adventurer 

Raby, A Clergyman 

Matthew, Servant to Sir Hugh 

Teresa Crispo, Passing as Countess di Crespo 

Lucy Willbury, Betrothed to Rylton 

Lady WiUbury, her Mother 

Miss Qfu'rish, Sister to Garrish 

Betsy, Sir Hugh's Chambermaid 

Guests, Officers, Servants, etc. 

Sir Hugh Blumer has two nephews, Rylton and GMldove. He 
intends to make Rylton his heir and Galldove, who is the villain of 
the piece, plans to bring discredit upon Rylton and does so by leading 
him to a gambling house and arranging for a quarrel between him 
and a gambler. Teresa Crispo who is passing as the Countess di 
Crespo, and is apparently Galldove's mistress, aids him in his 
schemes, although now and then she balks at them. Galldove's plans 
go to pieces in the last Act on the confession of Captain Fleet, whom 

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he had bribed to quarrel with Rylton at the gaming house. Femwood 
is the force that brings about the disclosure. He suspects Galldove 
all along and is kept from disclosing his plans by his promises to 
Teresa. Femwood turns out to be Teresa's brother. The minor char- 
acters, such as Gkmrish, who blurts out whatever he feels like saying; 
his sister, Miss Garrish, who has conspired with Lord Row to win 
5,000 pounds from Garrish on Lord RoVs promise that he will marry 
her, are not closely woven into the main plot. 

There is some clever conversation at times, and the play 
gives one the impression that it would act better than it 
reads, but it cannot be considered to be a step forward in 
dramatic technique. It is written in prose, with occasional 
changes into blank verse, and, therefore, Boker's great 
ability in the construction of dramatic verse was of no 
avail. The play proved, too, that social satire, which is 
its basis, was not his forte. He did not fail, however, on 
the side in which so many of our American playwrights 
have failed; his people seem like ladies and gentlemen. 
His failure lay in the lack of epigram and point, in lack 
of interest in the dialogue. Boker could not trifle. He is 
best w'hen he is in earnest, and that he himself recognized 
the comparative mediocrity of The World a Mask is appar- 
ent in his omission of it from his edition of 1856. 

The Podesta's Daughter, called by Boker a " dramatic 
sketch," is simply a dialogue and is not in any real sense 
dramatic. It was written in 1851 and published in 1852, 
with other poems, lyric and narrative, all of which have 
been reprinted in the collected edition. 

The Widow's Marriage, which was written in 1852, 
was accepted by Marshall, the manager of the Walnut 
Street Theatre, according to a letter written by Boker, 
October 12, 1852, to Stoddard,^^ but he was unable to find 
any actress to impersonate Lady Goldstraw. That the 
play was seriously considered is proven by the copy of the 

" Lippincoif8 Magatfim, vol. XLV, p. 863. 

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manuscript made by William H. Beed, copyist of Ihe 
Walnut Street Theatre, in 1852. 

It is a comedy in blank verse laid in England at the time 
of George II. The plot is largely concerned with a trick 
played upon a vain old widow, Lady Qoldstraw, who thinks 
she is married to Lord Buffler and who through his treat- 
ment of her sees how foolish she has been. She therefore 
retires and lets her daughter, Madge, have her own oppor- 
tunity for happiness. The play is an interesting one to 
read, and a good actress might have made something out 
of Lady Qoldstraw. Here, as before, however, it is in the 
more serious passages that Boker does his best work. The 
description of a true hero, put in the mouth of Sir William 
Travers, in Act n. Scene ii, is an example in point : 

Tftirerv. And heroes now, 

Are heroes proven by the knocks they take? — 
Is blood the only livery of renown? 
I knew a sickly artisan, a man 
Whose only tie to life was one pale child, 
His dead wife's gift Yet, for that single tie 
He bore a life that would have blanched the face 
Of armed Hector; bore the hopdess toil, 
That could but scrape together one day's food; 
Bore the keen tortures of a shattered frame. 
Hie sneer of pride, the arrogance of wealth; 
All the dread curses of man's heritage. 
Summed in one word of horror — ^poverty! — 
Ay, bore them with a smile. And aU the time. 
His ears were full of whispers. In his hand. 
The common tools of work turned from thdr use. 
And hinted— death 1 The river crossed his path. 
Sliding beneath the bridge so lovingly, 
And murmuring— death ! Upon hid very hearth 
Hie tempter sat, amid the flaming coals, 
And talked with him of —death ! A thousand ways 
Lay open, for his misery to escape; 
Yet there he stood, and labored for his child, 
Till Heaven in pity took the twain together. — 
He was a hero! 

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Boker returned next to tragedy. On November 14, 
1852, he wrote to Stoddard : 

I, prolific I, have finished a tragedy Leonor de Chufman. Her his- 
tory you will find in Spanish chronicles relating to the reign of 
Alphonso XII of Castile, and his son Peter the Gruel. There are 
no such subjects for historical tragedy on earth as are to be found 
in the Spanish history of that period. I am so much in love with 
it that I design following up Leonor de Ctwsman by Don Pedro.** 

Leonor de Ouznum was played first at the Walnut Street 
Theatre, Philadelphia, Monday, October 8d, 1853, and 
ran for six nights until October 8th, inclusive, with the 
following cast: " 

Don Pedro, King of Castile and Leon Mr. Perry 

Bon Enriqu^ Cond6 de Traatamara, 

oldest son of Dofia Leonor Mr. Wheatleigh 

Don Fadriqu^y Master of Santiago, 

Twin brother to Don Enrique Mr. Wallis 

Don Tello, another son to Dofia Leonor Mr. Hacknut 

Don Juan Alonso de Albuquerque, Prime 

Minister to Don Pedro Mr. Adams 

Don Juan Nufies de Lara, Lord of Biscayne and 

a preeumptire heir to the crown Mr. Young 

Don Fernando Manuel de Villena, his 

Nephew, Brother to Dofia Juana Mr. Eytinge 

Alonso Ckn'onel, Governor of Medina Sidonia Mr. McDonough 

Gafiedo, his liegeman and friend Mr. France 

Priest, Chaplain to Dofia Leonor Mr. Anderson 

Ambassador, from the rebel Don Juan Manuel Mr. Boswell 

Page, attending on Don Pedro Mr. J. Sefton 

Dofia Maria de Portugal, MoUier to Don Pedro Mrs. DuiBeld 

Dofia Leonor de Guzman, Mistress to King 

Alfonso Miss J. Dean 

Dofia Juana Manuel de ViUena, Sister to 

Don Fernando Mrs. Clarke 

Courtiers, Ladies, Elnights, Soldiers, Citizens, Attendants. 

^ IAppinooti*8 Magazine, vol. XLV, p. 864. 
^ Boker icsa 

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According to Durang ^* it was received with *^ warm 
approbation " and was only interrupted by the engagement 
of Edwin Forrest 

Boker in a letter to Stoddard ^^ on October 9th, 1853, 

You need not be anxious about "Leonor," we had her out last 
Monday, and she was as successful as you or I could hope for. 
Miss Dean, so far as her physique would admit, played the part 
admirably, and with a full appreciation of all those things which 
you called its beauties. Dofia Maria (the queen) was also well done; 
but Albuquerque and the other male characters, with the exception 
of Don Pedro, damnably. For all this the tragedy was triumphant, — 
well noticed by the press, and increasing in public favor up to its 
last night. I feel nothing but gratitude towards you for your part 
in the business, as it has certainly put my reputation at least one 
step forward. "Leonor" will be brought to New York during Miss 
Dean's next engagement there, in November next, if nothing should 
happen to prevent it. 

It was played at the Broadway Theatre, New York, 
April 24, 25, 26, 1853,^« to houses considerably better 
even than in Philadelphia. Madame Ponisi played Dona 
Maria in New York. 

Leonor de Ouzmcm is a tragedy laid in Castile, a.d. 
1350. The play is concerned with the succession to the 
throne consequent upon the death of King Alfonso XII. 
In the first Act the court of Leonor de Guzman is shown, 
and is represented as being the center of power in Spain. 
Of her sons, Don Enrique, Don Fadrique, and Don Telle, 
the first two are returning from war and bring news of the 
death of King Alfonso. At once the courtiers fall away 
from her and flock to Seville, where Queen Maria, the 
mother of the new King, Don Pedro, is staying. They 

^History of the Philadelphia Stage, Third Series, Chapter ozxvi. 
" Lippincotfa Magasrine, vol. XLV, p. S66. 
* Boker icss. 

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are both under the admonition of Don Juan Albuquerque^ 
the prime minister. 

From here on the play is largely a study of the efforts 
of this man to retain power for Don Pedro and himself 
against Leonor and Don Enrique^ and of Queen Maria to 
obtain revenge on Leonor. Queen Maria finally kills 
Leonor, and there is a sub-plot concerning the love of Dona 
Juana Miinuel de Villena and Don Enrique. They are 
married through a trick of Leonor. 

Leonor is represented as being a woman of noble charac- 
ter who had devotedly loved the King and who had been 
a power in Spain. The sympathy of the vmter is with 
her generally, although one cannot help appreciating the 
emotions of the Queen who allows all other feelings to be 
wrapped up in her jealousy and desire for revenge. An 
evidence of this is given in Act n^ Scene ii. 

Doiia Maria, Don Pedro, pardon me. 

The open insult of my feUow-queen — 
She who was reigning while I staid at home, 
To rock your cradle, and to suckle you — 
Moved me a little. And besides, my liege^ 
There are some years of suffering on my brow. 
Pray, mark my lady's, it is very smooth — 
And some harsh lines of silver in my hair. 
While hers is glossy with untroubled ease. 
The rose has burned to ashes on my face; — 
Yet lives again in her transparent chetk. 
She can go through, her fingers and record 
A loving chUd upon each dainty tip; 
I have but one, and he forgets to love! 

The most marked advance in Leonor de Ouzman lies 
in the character drawing. Don Albuquerque, Dona Maria, 
and Dona Leonor are real people and real Spaniards. The 
Queen's jealousy of the prime minister's hate for Leonor 
is a strikingly effective invention of Boker's. So all 
powerful is her desire for revenge that she cannot share 

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it with anyone. The influence of a ceady and unacrupu- 
louB mind is well shown in the character of D<m Albuquer- 
qu6, and the title role gave a good opportunity to a clever 
actress to make sympathetic a noble figure. 

Before Leonor de Ovaman had been put on the stage, 
Boker had started his masterpiece. In a letter to Stoddard 
on March 3d^ ISSS,^*^ he tells of his method of work. He 
wrote Franceaca da Rvmini, a play of twenty-^ht hun- 
dred lines, in three weeks. It was composed literally at 
white heat. He thought about the work all day and smoked 
a great deal after he b^an composing at nine o'clock in 
the evening. At four o'clock in the morning he would re- 
tire for about five hours' sleep. He came to his writing 
with the plan perfectly matured, so that the rapid com- 
position was only the fruition of a long period of prepa- 

Francesca da Rimini was performed for the first time 
at the Broadway Theatre, New York, on September 26th, 

The cast as given in Brown's History of the New York 
8ta>ge is evidently incorrect in several instances, and that 
given in Ireland's Records of the New York Stage is not 
complete. It is certain, however, that Lanciotto was played 
by E. L. Davenport, Paolo by M. Lanergan, Francesca by 
Mme. Ponisi, and Eitta by Miss Manners. It was first 
played in Philadelphia at the Walnut Street Theatre on 
October 10, 1855, Mrs. John Drew acting Francesca. It 
was repeated on October 11, 12, and 18. 

Francesca da Rimini was revived by Lawrence Barrett 
in 1882, the original performance taking place at Haver- 

^ Lippincoift Magastine, voL XLV, p. S64. 

^ Boker icss. According to Brown's History of the New York 
Stage (vol. i, p. 403), the play held the boards till October 5th. 

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ly*8 Theatre, Philadelphia, September 14. The program 
of this performance, which is inserted in Mr. Barrett's 
acting copy of the play, is as follows : 


(PoBitively his last appearance this season.) 
Supported by Mr. Lonis James and an Excellent Company. 


A Tragedy in Six Acts, by Hon. George H. Boker. 


Landotto ) ,, , . . . ^ (Mr. Lawrence Barrett 

Paolo [Malatesta's Sons j Mr. Otis Skinner 

Malatesta, Lord of Rimini and 

Head of the Guelphs Mr. Ben. G. Rogers 

Gnldo da Polenta, Lord of Ravenna and 

Head of the Ghibelins Mr. F. G. Mosley 

Pep4, Malatesta's Jester Mr. Louis James 

Bishop, Friend to Guido Mr. Charles Rolf e 

Ren4, a Troubadour Mr. Percy Winter 

Laoentio^ ) « . , , ^ , f Mr. Errol Dunbar 

Torelli, l^rfends to Paolo | Mr. Albert T. Riddle 

Captain Mr. Homer Cope 

Messenger Mr. €(arrie Davidson 

Servant Mr. Robert Sutton 

Franoesca, Guido'a Daughter Miss Marie Wainwright 

Ritta, her maid Miss Josie Batchelder 

Lords, Ladies, Knights, Priests, Pages, Soldiers, etc. 

Mr. Barrett continued this play in his repertoire ior 
a number of seasons. In 1885 some changes were made in 
the cast^ Mr. F. 0. Mosley taking Mr. Skinner's place as 
Paolo, Mr. B. G. Sogers changing from Malatesta to 
Ghiido, and Miss Eose France playing Bitta. 

On August 22, 1901, Mr. Otis Skinner again revived 
the play at the Grand Opera House, Chicago. It was 
played throughout the country during the season of 1901- 
02, the principal cities in whidi it appeared being Kew 
York, Philadelphia, Boston, Washington, Baltimore, New 

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Orleans, Memphis, St. Louis, Minneapolis, St. Paul, 
Cleveland, Cincinnati, Buffalo and Detroit 

The Paolo and Francesca story has been a favorite theme 
for treatment. Beginning with Dante's description of his 
meeting with the lovers in his Fifth Canto, human sym- 
pathy has often been directed toward the unhappy love 
story of the brother and the wife of Gianciotto, the lord of 
Eimini, who loved each other and who died by his hand. 
Boker was the first to write in English a play which 
would make the injured husband the central figure with- 
out lessening our interest in the lovers. To do this he had 
of course to modify the actual historical facts ; but more 
important, he had to create by the power of imagination 
what Francesca called the noblest heart in Eimini. It 
lies outside of the scope of the article to make a compara- 
tive study of Boker's play and the dramatic treatments of 
the story that followed his, but there can be no question 
that in English at least, it is surpassed by no other version. 
The spectator who witnesses Stephen Phillips's Paolo and 
Francesca is presented with a poetic spectacle in whidi the 
characters belong to no especial time or place. Driven on 
by fate, they are puppets, not themselves determining 
factors in the action. Boker places us in the midst of me- 
diaeval Italy. The character of Paolo, young, handsome, 
loveworthy, but a bit of a coxcomb, is contrasted through 
his own actions and words with Lanciotto, a warrior, mis- 
shapen in body but sensitive to a d^ree, and with a love 
for his brother that embodies not only natural affection 
but also admiration for that physical perfection that has 
been denied him. Delicately, too, does Boker depict that 
craving for affection on the part of a man no longer young 
which, when made concrete by being centered upon a 
young and beautiful woman, becomes one of the most real 
motives of life and of art. Delicately, too, is Francesca 

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introduced to ub, not a mere receptive character as in 
Phillips's play or in Leigh Hunt's earlier narrative ver- 
sion, but alive and with a great capacity for love. She is 
ready to love Lanciotto, and when eihe mistakes his deputy, 
Paolo, for him, she gives her heart. Her girlish attempt 
to hide her pain, when she discovers how she has been 
duped, is of the essence of drama, for the words seem 
wrung out of her soul : 

I'm glad I kept my heart safe, after all. 

There was my cunning. I have paid them back 

. . .On my faith, 

I would not live another wicked day, 
Here in Ravenna, only for the fear 
That I should take to lying, with the rest. 
Ha! Hal it makes me merry, when I think 
How safe I kept this little heart of mine! 

Those who have seen Franceses da Bindrd upon the 
stage will hardly forget the scene in the third Act when 
Francesca discovers the cheat and when Lanciotto, mis- 
construing her apparent willingness to go on with the 
marriage, believes that she is banning to care for him. 
Almost at once, however, he is led to suspicion by the 
jester, Pep6. Pepe^s motive is revenge for insults oflfered 
him by Lanciotto and by Paolo. He is a human instru- 
ment and a natural one, by which the catastrophe is 
brought about. In Hunt's version the murmurs of Fran- 
cesca in her sleep bring about the revelation. In Phil- 
lips's, the prophecies of a blind nurse, aided somewhat by 
the jealousy of Giovanni's cousin, are the means to the 
end. The nurse of Phillips is probably due to a suggestion 
in Poker's play, that a nurse in the Malatesta family has 
prophesied that some day the blood of Guide da Polenta 
would mingle with theirs. Boker only uses this super- 
natural suggestion in its proper place, the background. 
Pep6 is human and he is mediaeval. He acts quickly, too. 

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and he helps the action on. Lanciotto's absence is natur* 
ally accounted for by the incursion of the Ghibellines, and 
thus the way is left open for the great love scene between 
Paolo and Francesca. The Francesca of Boker has been 
at times criticized for the active part she takes in sending 
Bitta away, who scents danger, but Francesca is very 
human, and, therefore, more appealing. The contrast be- 
tween the love of Paolo, that is shot through with remorse, 
and the love of Francesca, that goes joyfully on without 
thinking of the cost, is masterly. 

The final scene rises even beyond this one in dramatic 
effectiveness. As Boker wrote it and as it was first played 
it was in the garden. Paolo has decided that he will go 
away. Francesca reminds him in words that reflect the 
maturity that sin's experience has brought to her what 
waits for her in the future, if he leaves her, a pledge for 
the security of her native land, to the caresses of an un- 
loved husband. Then Lanciotto enters and after begging 
them to deny the charge that Pep6 has brought to him, 
kills Francesca and then Paolo. Then when the two 
fathers rebuke him he defends himself: 

Lmnoioifo, Can howling make this sight more terrihlef 
Peace 1 You disturh the angels up in heaven, 
While they are hiding from this ugly earth. 
Be satisfied with what you see. You two 
Began this tragedy, I finished it. 
Here, hy these bodies, let us reckon up 
Our crimes together. Why how still they lie! 
A moment, since, they walked, and talked, and kissed! 
Defied me to my face, dishonored me! 
They had the power to do it then; but now, 
Poor souls, who'll shield them in eternity f 
Father, the honor of our house is safe: 
I have the secret. I will to the wars. 
And do more murders, to eclipse this one. 
Back to the battles; there I breathe in peace; 

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And I will take a soldier's honor back, — 
Honor! what's that to me now? Ha! ha! ha! 

A great thing, father! I am very ill. 
I killed thy son lor honor: thou mayst chide. 

€k>d ! I cannot cheat myself with words ! 

1 loved him more than honor — ^more than life — 
niis man, Paolo— this stark, bleeding corpse! 
Here let me rest, till God awake us all! 

The printed version of Francesca da Rimini represents 
Boker's judgment of the best form of the play for read- 
ing purposes. It has never been put on the stage exactly 
as it has been printed. Among the manuscripts is a com- 
plete autograph manuscript of the play as it now appears 
in the collected edition. From this was copied in 1853 
an acting version, and some very interesting changes were 
made, partly by Boker himself. There are also some tenta- 
tive fragments of Act i and Act ii and a manuscript, with 
alterations by Boker, of the acting version used by Mr. 
Barrett in 1882. In this last the speeches of Lanciotto 
are indicated by cues ; so that it is impossible to tell how 
severely they were cut. 

The acting version of 1853 omits Act i. Scene i in the 
printed version. There is a note in Boker's hand, on the 
manuscript to this effect: 

When Lanciotto is the prominent part, omit the whole of the 
following scene (Scene i, Act i) and begin the play at Scene 2nd, 
Act I. 

If this scene were played, this change would begin the 
play in Ravenna instead of in Rimini and would center 
the interest on Francesca, since the scene is concerned with 
the disclosure of Guide to her that Lanciotto is on the 
way. The reason for this change is not now apparent. 
Boker had written Leonor de Ouzman for Miss Dean, and 
it may be that he had had her in mind when he was 

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writing Francesca da Rimini. The fact that he named 
the play as he did, and that among the fragments there 
is a different beginning for the second Act> which repre- 
sents Francesca among her ladies and gives her the open- 
ing speech, would make such an explanation reasonable. 
As the play is printed, Francesca does not come on until 
the Second Act The acting version of 1882 begins with 
the usual Act i^ Scene i, but it is somewhat cut 

All through the play the acting version of 1853 seems 
to make for dramatic effectiveness, though sometimes the 
poetry is sacrificed. The Second Act begins with a scene 
in a grand Hall in Bavenna, instead of before the gates of 
the city, as is the case in the corresponding scene in the 
printed version. The first scene in Act Second, it will be 
remembered, had been transferred to the first Act. The 
speeches are much cut and Francesca's departure from 
the stage ends the scene, Eitta's speech being omitted to 
the advantage of the stage effectiveness. Quite a good 
deal of the conversation, especially between Guide and 
Bittfl, is omitted in both stage versions. The Second Act 
ends, in the printed version, with a soliloquy of Paolo 
after he has had a conversation with Francesca about 
Lanciotto. In the acting version of 1882 the Act ends 
with this scene, but there is a general spectacle, everybody 
is brought on, and the curtain falls with the words "On 
to Rimini." In the acting version of 1853, what is usually 
Act III Scene i is put into Act n and the Act ends with a 
brief scene in which Pep6 touches Lanciotto on the hump. 
This scene was omitted altogether in the 1882 version. 

Both acting versions conmience the third Act with the 
scene in the grand square, which is the second scene in 
the printed version. It is somewhat cut, and both stage 
versions leave out Francesca's last speech — a mistaken 

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In the Fourth Act, the acting version of 1853 has a new 
ending to the first scene, written in the manuscript by 
Boker's own hand, which brings on Rene and the trouba- 
dours who give Lanciotto advice to proceed with the wed- 
ding. This scene was used also in 1882. 

The most curious change occurs in the acting version 
of 1853 in the last act The entire first scene, between 
Paolo and Francesca in the garden, is omitted, although 
the usual mark in the autograph manuscript indicates 
only that the scene was to be cut. The 1882 version kept 
this scene. In the scene at Lanciotto's camp there is a 
long speech inserted in the 1853 acting version, which 
does not appear anywhere else. It emphasizes the motive 
of family pride. Another long speech is inserted in the 
third scene, after Lanciotto has discovered the lovers. 
One change is such an improvement that it mi^t be 

The printed version makes Lanciotto say: 

Dost thou see 
Yon bloated spider — ^hideous as myself — 
GUmbing aloft to reach that wavering twig? 
When he has touched it one of us must die. 

The acting version of 1853 reads: 

Dost thou see 
Ton duskj cloud that slowly steals along, 
Like a shrewd thief upon a travelleri 
To blot the glory of the jocund moon? 
When it has dimmed the luster of the edge 
She'll shrink behind it to avoid the sight, 
She else might see on this disfigured earth. 
When it has crossed her, one of us, who now 
Is touched to wonder by her radiance. 
Shall gaze upon her with an altered face — 
As pale and cold and vacant as her own. 

It is the opinion of Mr. Otis Skinner, who acted Paolo 
in 1882 and Lanciotto in 1902, that the changes made in 

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both Mr. Barrett's and liifl versions were necessary for 
stage effect. The explanations which Mr. Skinner has 
been good enough to give me seem justified. Yet there 
are shrewd comments in Boker's own hand on the acting 
version of 1882 which were accepted as correcting the 
stage manager's judgm^it. 

The autograph manuscript of The Bamkmpt is dated 
1853. Whether it preceded or followed Francesca in 
actual composition it is not possible to decide^ as Boker 
does not mention it in his memoranda and no published 
account has any reference to it. It is a prose melodrama^ 
laid apparently about 1850 — at least the manuscript bears 
the inscription " Time and Scene, the Present" The main 
theme has to do with the retiim of James Shelvill, who 
passes under the name of Shorn, and who has been so em- 
bittered by bad treatment that he has returned to avenge 
himself upon his former associates. He tries to ruin Ed- 
ward Giltwood^ who had befriended him, and he also 
tries to seduce Amy Qiltwood, over whom he has a hold 
through knowledge of a former theft which she had com- 
mitted. The intervention of Paul Tapeley, a wealthy 
lawyer, who lends Amy Giltwood enough money to pay 
off her husband's indebtedness, makes the play end happily. 

The play is certainly the poorest written by Boker. 
The language is stilted and the prose at times runs into 
a curious kind of blank verse, as though the author had 
not been quite certain in which mediimi he had been in- 
tending to write it There is a certain cleverness in the 
way in which the web is woven about Amy and the method 
used to persuade her husband of her guilt. But the char- 
acters are not clearly established and the motives are not 
well worked out 

Konigsmark, published in 1869, but written in all 
probability before 1857, while a verse drama of interest. 

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was not acted and could hardly have been intmded for 
the stage. It is laid in Hanover in 1694 and is a tragedy, 
dealing with the revenge of the Oountess von Platen, the 
mistress of the Elector, upon Konigsmari^, a Colonel of 
the Guards who had been in love with her and who has 
transferred his affections to Sophia, the ill-used wife of 
Prince George, the Elector's eldest son, afterwards Gteorge 
the First of England. 

With Konigsmark, the first period of Poker's dramatic 
activity came to an end. During the next few years he 
turned his attention more definitely to lyric poetry. Al- 
ready in the 1856 edition of his collected plays and poems 
he gave evidence of his ability as a sonnetteer. We are 
concerned in this study only with his dramatic work ; but 
tiiere is no doubt that, in this country at least, Poker's 
soimets have never been accorded their proper position. 
His sonnets on public affairs, especially the one entitled 
To Louis Napoleon, and his love sonnets form a group 
worthy of comparison with those of any sonnet writer in 
English except the very greatest. In 1864 his Poems of 
the War were published, containing his touching Dirge 
for a Soldier, on the death of Philip Kearney, and his 
stirring Black Regiment, written to celebrate the charge 
of the colored troops at Port Hudson. 

He did not limit his activity on the Union side to writ- 
ing poetry. He took an active part in the formation of 
the Union League of Philadelphia and used his great social 
influence to combat the undercurrent of sympathy with 
the Confederacy which prevailed in many of the older 
families in that city. On November 3d, he was appointed 
Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary to 
Turkey, and was transferred to the Eussian Mission Janu- 
ary 18, 1876, although he was not actually relieved of his 
duties' at Constantinople until May 1, 1875. His services 

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as Minister to Bufisia lasted until January 15^ 1878. 
These public services having been completed, he turned 
his attention again to the stage. The revival of Francesca 
da Bimini in 1882 undoubtedly encouraged him. First 
he returned to CcUaynos and endeavored to adapt it to suit 
Mr. Barrett Beference has already been made to this 
revision, which was, however, not put on the stage. Boker 
next turned to a different tiieme and wrote two plays upon 
the story of the fall of Pompeii. One of these, Nydia, is 
dated on l3ie title page 1885, and there is a note stating: 

This play was b^^un on the twenty-sixth day of February, and 
finished on the twenty-first of April, 1885. My engagements were 
such that I could not work during at least one third of that time, 
nor did I work more than three hours each day. 

OlaxLcus, the longer play, is dated 1886. It is more 
than a revision, it is an entire rewriting of Nydia. While 
Nydia includes ninety-three typewritten pages, Olaucua 
has oneTiundred and seventy-seven. Nydia seems to be 
the stage version. According to the memory of Mrsw George 
Boker, the play was written for Mr. Barrett. It was evi- 
dently submitted to him, as l3iere are manuscript notes in 
Boker's handwriting of which the first is especially inter- 

I have stricken out all the talk about the lion; because, after 
finishing the play, I found that the lion really had no part in the 

The "cuts" throughout the play are conjectural, and subject to 
your approval. If you find anything cut out by me which, in your 
opinion had better remain in, do not hesitate to restore it. 

Both plays follow the main incidents of Bulwer's Last 
Days of Pompeii, leaving Olinthus and the Christians out. 
The Cast of characters in Nydia includes: 

Glaucus, a rich Athenian 
Arbaces, an Egyptian Prince 

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CalenuB, A Prince of Isis 
Apaecides, a neophyte of Isis 
Burbo, a Publican 
Clodins, a friend of Glaucus 

Nydon, a Gladiator 
Scoros, a slaye of lone 
Dromo, a slave of Arbaces 
Noblemen, Lictors, Gladiators, Attendants, Slaves, 
Citizens, et cetera." 

The mutual love of Glaucus and lone, Nydia's passion 
for Glaucus, the rescue of lone from the house of Arbaces, 
the Egyptian, through Nydia's agency, the arrest of Glau- 
cus on the charge of the murder of Apaecides, Tone's 
brother, the conviction of Glaucus and his sentence to 
death in the amphitheatre, the eruption of Vesuvius, all 
are woven into a really dramatic poem, which in the case 
of Nydia at least is eminently suited for stage presenta- 

In Nydia the blind girl dies at the end of the play, 
after having confessed to her love for Glaucus. In Glau- 
cus, she together with Glaucus and lone are seen sailing 
away in safety. 

Boker's plays owe nothing to the language of Bulwer. 
The stilted artificial style in which The Last Days of Pom- 
peii is written is changed into vigorous and flexible blank 

*llie characters of Quaestor, Aedile, Scoros, Drcmo, or Nuntius, 
are not included in Olauoua, Saphax, a freedman, and Dudas, a 
Boman gentleman, are omitted from Nydia, but form part of the 
list of characters in Glaucua, 

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Since neither play has been published^ some examples 
of the verse will be appropriate : 

The first is from the Second Act of Nydicu lone and 
Nydia are together in lone's house. lone has told Nydia 
tike loves her. 

Nydia, Ay, that I understand, without my eyes. 

Love, love, is not that something like to sight! 
I often think it is another sense. 

lone. It is the vision of the gods. Right, girl! 

Love is another sense. 
Nydia, Or why should I, — 

Blind as I am, love you, love GlaucusT hate — 

(Enter Arbaces from behind, unobs^red) 

Oh! how I hate! one person, with a fire 

Almost as hot as love is — ^Hist! I hear 

An evil footstep. 

Arhiioes. (Advancing) It is only mine. 

Nydia, Cat, treacherous cat! (Aside. She shrinks apart.) 

lone, Arbaces, when you come 

Into my house, I pray you, that henceforth. 
You have yourself announced. Remember, too, 
I am a child no longer. 

Arb€U)e9. Sad am I 

At all these changes. Twas but yesterday — 
So seems it in the hurried flight of time — 
I held you in my arms, or taught your feet 
Their first few steps. You and Apaeoides 
Will ever seon my childroi. 

lone, Pardom me: 

(My wish was not to wound you. 

Arhaoea, Dear lone. 

Why have you lost your confidence in me! 

lone. But have If 

Arhaoee, Yes; witness your new-made friend. 

This wandering Greek; Witness your handmaid here, 

A public flower girl, a common slave. 

Likewise his gift, now your companion, lliese. 

These unwise acts, were all, all contrary 

To my advice. 

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lone, . Come hither, Njdia. 

Lay your cheek close to mine, twine both your arms 

About my neck; now kiss me <m the mouth, 

Free citizen of Rome. Mark it, my Lord; 

Thus, thus, I think of her. 

(Kisses Nydia) 
Arhacea, A fond mistake. 
lone. Grant that as possible. Were she not pure, — 

Tea, pure as I am, — ^would she dare do that? 

Tou may be deep in all the ways of man. 

But ah! you know not woman. 
Arhaees. Haply so. 

Let these two kittens play: Why should I care! 


The other matter is more serious. 

It is the common tattle of the town 

That Glaucus, an Athenian fop, a man — 
lone. Beware! 
Arhaees. — ^Who owes the little fame he has 

To his successes with your sex, is here 

Daily, or, as he boasts before the world. 

When e'er he pleases, or has idle time. 
Nydia. That is a lie! 
ArJxHfee. I do not say this thing 

Of my own knowledge. Is it scandal? 
lone. Which, — 

His coming, or his boast? 
Arhaoee. Say both. 
lone. Since when 

Took I o(Hnpanions as the world prescribed? 

Tou know the freedom of a woman's life 

In Greece, my country, where each woman stands 

As guardian of her honor. There no bars 

Shut up her virtue, at a man's behest. 

As in your Egypt. As for Glaucus — 
Arhaoee. Well? 
lone. He is most welcome to my house and me 

At any seemly hour. That much is truth. 

That he has ever boasted of my favor. 

In any manner to discredit me. 

Is not alone untrue, but more than false — 


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This shows the dramatic quality of his conversation. 
Another passage, this time from Olaucus, will show the 
depth and sweep of the poetry. Glaucus and lone have 
just parted and Nydia comes upon him while he is think- 
ing upon his happiness : 

Qlauou8. Can you ask? 

Nydia, Ah! then, 'tis not for all, this happiness. 

Thank heaven that gave it to you 'tis so far. 
So very far ahove the common lot, 
Nor does it always come at love's command: 
Sweet though his gifts be to the fortunate. 
They seem like curses of the angry gods, 
Like the hot arrows of Hyperion's wrath. 
When poured into a heart that cannot share 
Its blessings with another, love for love. 

Glaucus, These are strange thoughts to fill your youthful brain: 
Whence were they gathered? 

Nydia, From the tree of life. 

We who pass under, shake its fatal fruit. 
Ripened or rotten, at our startled feet. 
A child may do that. Once I knew a maid. 
Humble as I am, and she loved a king! — 
not a king with sceptre, crown and throne, 
The common frippery of royal state. 
But a real king, by nature bred and crowned. 
And so acknowledged by a subject world. 

Olauous. She flew too high. 

Nydia, But why has love his wings, 

Unless to soar with? Ah! my lord, you talk 
Like all the world; but not like Glaucus. 

0lauous, True. 

But of the maiden? 

Nydia, I forgot the girl. 

Lost in the splendor of the man she loved. 
Her passion was the secret of her breast: 
She dared not tell it to an earthly thing. 
Lest gossip echo, from her hollow cave^ 
Should spread her story to the jeering land. 
no, she whispered to the mystic skies, 
Distant and voiceless, — ^to her mother's soul, 
Silent as death, that stood between their lives, — 

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The bitter story which she knew too well. 
Nothing was pitiful. The raging clouds, 
With thunder upon thunder, shouted, fool! 
Her mother's voice, as fine and thin as scmgs 
Sung to an ailing infant, murmured, fool! 
And her own heart — ^there was the hopeless pang — 
Muttered forever, fool, and fool, and fool! 

It is to be regretted that Boker did not publish the com- 
plete edition of his works which he was evidently prepar- 
ing in 1886. For it he had revised Calaynos, had prepared 
Nydia and Olaucus, had revised All the World a Mask 
under the title of Under a Mask, and The Bankrupt under 
the title of A Commercial Crisis. It is to be hoped that in 
the near future the three first at least may be printed. 

Olaucus was the last of Boker's plays to be written. 
He died January 2, 1890, in Philadelphia and the interest 
excited by his death brought forth enough demand for his 
work to warrant another reprinting of the edition of 1856 
and of the Poems of the War. No attempt was made, how- 
ever, to bring the collected edition up to date. 

In the attempt to explain why Boker has not received 
his proper position in our literature, two reasons have been 
most frequently presented. The first is that he treated 
foreign material too exclusively. This criticism, in the 
light of the existence of Hamlet and The Merchant of 
Venice, seems to be beside the point. After an examina- 
tion of The Bankrupt, the only play in which he treated 
native conditions, and which is by far the poorest, we may 
be thankful that Boker knew where his own strength lay. 

Nor is the other commonplace of criticism that there 
was no financial encouragement for American playwrights 
in Boker's time as applicable to him as it was to some 
others, nor was it so true of his stage royalties as of his 
profits as a poet from his published works. 

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Boker seems to have received a royalty of five per cent, 
on the gross receipts of each night's performance. State- 
ments from the treasurers of the theatres show payments 
as follows: 

Oalaynoa — 

Philadelphia," Feb. '51, nine nights $194.08 

Albany, '51, three nights 17.00 

Baltimore, '51, three nights 30.00 

Chicago, two nights 5.80 


The Betrothal-^ 

Philadelphia, 1850, ten nights $155.92 

New York, 1850, twelve nights 185.82 

New York, 1851, five nights 65.38 

Philadelphia, 1851, five nights 43.47 


The World a Mask — 

Philadelphia, 1851, eight nights $138.10 

Leonor de Ouzman — 

Philadelphia, 1853, six nights $83.33 

New York, 1854, three nights 75.76 


Total $994.56 

These figures omit at least two series of performances of 
Gdlaynos and all of Francesca da Rimini. It would seem 
fair to estimate his total royalties from plays up to the 
time of their publication in 1856 at $1,500, and this with- 
out any risk to himself. The accounts seem to have been 
rendered promptly and no reductions made for theatrical 
charges. Let us see on the other hand how he fared with 
the publishers. 

We find no accounts for his earlier volumes, though a 
contract with Carey and Hart, of Philadelphia, shows that 
Boker shared here equaUy the expenses and the profits of 

** Figures for Philadelphia performances in December 1851 and 
in April 1855 are not available. 

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the publication of Anne Boleyn. The profits of this play 
and of Codaynos must have been slight, since only five hun- 
dred copies were printed. 

The complete edition of the Plays and Poems of 1856 
was published with Ticknor and Fields, of Boston. Boker 
paid for the stereotyping of the plates, for any volumes 
furnished to him, and received twenty cents royalty on 
each set of two volumes, Ticknor and Fields paying for 
paper, binding, press work, and other expenses. No roy- 
alty was paid to him on about one hundred copies sent to 
editors of various journals. We have not found complete 
statements of all the receipts and sales, but from those we 
have, we learn that the stereotyping of the plates cost him 
$844.82. There is no indication what his royalties on the 
first edition were, but under date of April 27, 1859, we 
find a statement of his royalties for the second edition as 

G. H. Boker, Esq.: in acct. with Hcknor and Fields, Dr. 

For amount of enclosed bill $104.51 


April 30, By copyright on 450 Plays and Poems. . $90.00 
April 1, 1859 copyright on 50 Plays and Poems . . . 10.00 

$ 4.61 

100 copies given to Editors 

500 copies sold as above 

400 copies on hand 

It had, therefore, cost him $4.61 to print the second 
edition, and while, of course, most of the "enclosed bill" 
was for copies he had sent friends, we can easily estimate 
that, counting in the receipts from his royalties for the 
first edition at a liberal figure, he must have been a loser 
by more than five hundred dollars for his trouble in pub- 
lishing his plays at all. When we compare this return, 

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or lack of it, with the stage royalties on his plays, it is 
hardly the American playwright but rather the American 
poet who has a right to complain of lack of appreciation. 
To be sure, he still had the plates, but he also still had the 
rights to his plays, and years afterwards under Lawrence 
Barrett's management, Francesca brought him in, at times, 
two hundred dollars a week.^^ 

It is perhaps idle to speculate upon the reasons which 
have led to the failure to appreciate Bokear's significant 
contributions to our dramatic literature. One explanation 
might be supplied by those who have been privileged to 
scrutinize the obituary notice read at the Union League 
Club of Philadelphia, which in recounting his services to 
mankind, placed the establishment of that institution at 
the head of the list, and after mentioning his career as his 
country's representative abroad, concluded by remarking 
that he had also written some poems and dramas, which 
was all the more to his credit, since his fintmcial circum- 
stances were such that he was under no necessity to do it I 

His work came at a time when a fashion was passing, and 
his work was of that fashion. The long run, the drama- 
tization of popular novels, and the star system ; the influ- 
ence of Boucicault, who was the concrete representative of 
all three, and added to these the disturbed conditions of 
the Civil War kept people from reading his plays. No 
one who reads them fails to recognize their worth. With 
the great increase in the interest in our native drama, it 
is hoped that Boker will at last come into his own. 

Abthur Hobson Quinn. 

" Letter from the office of the Star Theatre, New York, to Mr. 
Boker, October 1, 1883. 

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The discovery by Mr. Arundell Eedaile of the fragmen- 
tary morality Love Fwyned and Unfwyned ^ has contribu- 
ted to the history of English drama a document of peculiar 
interest. The play can, I believe, lay claim to unique 
significance -as reflecting a phase of religious controversy 
otherwise unrepresented in the drama. Although the frag- 
mentary character of the material renders analysis diffi- 
cult, the 243 extant lines contain evidence on the basis of 
which the play may be characterized as an allegorical de- 
fense of the sect of Anabaptists. It seems further to re- 
flect, in one aspect, the influence of a group with which 
the Anabaptists had certain affinities, — ^the Family of 

The fragment has been preserved on the guard-leaves of 
an old volume, the Sermones Discipuli of Johannes He- 
rolt^ The handwriting, according to Sir F. F. Warner, 
belongs to the early years of the seventeenth century. As 
is noted in the foreword to the edition, the manuscript has 
the appearance of a first draft of an original composition 
rather than a copy, since the alterations made by the 
scribe are such as suggest the hand of the author rather 
than that of a copyist.' Moreover, the blank pages of an 

* Published by the Malone Society, Oollectiana, i, i (1909), pp. 

'A collection of discourses "de tempore et de Sanctis"; the copy 
in which the play is preserved belongs to the edition of 1492 (Strass- 
burg). It is in the possession of the British Museum (editor's 
foreword, p. 16). 

'Typical examples of such alterations are the substitution in the 
first line of fire, which rhymes with desire in v. 2, for flame, which 


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old book would serve more naturally as a surface for scrib- 
bling a first draft than as a means of conserving a piece 
of literature that someone valued enough to wish to copy. 
Nothing in the content of the play is at variance with the 
conclusion that the date of the manuscript represents the 
period of composition. Love Fayned and Unfayned may 
then be regarded^ at least provisionally^ as belonging to 
the first decades of the seventeenth century. 

With respect to the type of plot^ the play belongs in the 
Conflict of Vices and Virtues group.* The neutral charac- 
ter, Feloship, is wrought upon successively by the forces 
of good, Love Unfayned and Familiaritie, and those of 
evil, Love Fayned and Falshode. Feloship is found, at 
the point at which the extant portion of the play begins, 
longing to meet with one whom he calls ^^my hertes 
desyre.'^ Familiaritie assures him that he will find a guide 
in Love Unfayned, who enters forthwith. In answer to 
Feloship's request for aid " against my deadlie foe,^^ Love 
Unfayned agrees to direct him, and utters a long discourse 
on his own nature and qualities, based on various passages 
in the New Testament.^ Feloship promises to follow Love 

has been written and Btnick out; and the Bubstitution of oeleetiaU, 
in V. 124, for heavetU (flic), which has also been written and crossed 
out. It is impossible to determine from the condition of the MB. 
whether we have to do with a composition originally incomplete^ 
or a fragmentary text; the volume has been rebound, and has lost 
its original end-papers and fly-leaves (editor's foreword, p. 16). 

*I make use of the convenient terminology of Mr. R. L. Ramsay, 
ed. Skelton, Magnyfyomce, EETS, Ext. Ser., voL zovm, Introd., 
p. cxlviii. 

'This speech and others of Love Unfayned are very much in the 
vein of the text-besprinkled utterances of some of the characters in 
Luaty Juventua; cf. the speeches of Good Ck>unsel (Haelitt-Dodsley, 
Old Plays, 1874, vol. n, pp. 49-60 and 93) and the speech of Knowl- 
edge {ihid., p. 56). An even closer parallel is offered by the dis- 
courses of Charytie in King Dariug (Brandl, Quellen dea toeltUohen 
Dramas in England vor Shakespeare, Strassburg, 1898, pp. 36d-8M). 

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Unf ayned and Familiaritie ; and the three depart together, 
piously rejoicing. At this point Falshode enters, and, 
addressing the audience, proceeds to sing the praises of 
his own cleverness, and the advantages accruing to those 
who follow in his footsteps. Suddenly catching himself 
up with '^hat, do I prate here V^ he states that he has 
come to speak with Feloship, who has apparently failed 
to keep the tryst. Discomfited by the disappointment,* 
he is consoled by the assurances of Love Fayned, who en- 
ters opportunely, that they will win Feloship back into 
their power. Feloship arrives at this point praising Qod 
for having brought him to his present virtuous state. Fals- 
hode and Love Fayned make a combined attack upon his 
resolution, asserting that Familiaritie and Love TJnfayned 
are crafty hypocrites, whose only motive in seeking for 
his company is to get possession of his goods. Feloship, 
completely won over, expresses his gratitude to them for 

'The situation which represents the Vice as chagrined hy the 
failure of another character to keep an appointment with him occurs 
also in Lusty Jwoentus and King Darius, The opening lines of 
Falshode's first speech are in fact a fairly close parallel to the fol- 
lowing speech of Iniquitie, in King Darius: — 

How now, my masters, how goeth the world now? 
I came gladly to talk with you. 
But softe, is there nobody here? 
Truly, I do not lyke this geare. 

(Brandl, op, oit., p. 362) 

Hie same device is used in Lusty Juventus, where Fellowship (in 
this case a bad character) says: — 

I marvel greatly where Friendship is. 

He promised to meet me here ere this time. 

I beshrew his' heart that his promise doth miss. 

(Hazlitt-Dodsley, voL n, p. 79) 

It seems not unlikely that the author of Love Fayned and TJnfayned 
was acquainted with these two plays; he is at least proved to have 
been familiar with the comic conventions of the Morality stage. 

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opening his eyes. At the suggestion of Love Fayned that 
they sing in celebration of their agreement^ all join in a 
lyric.^ They then depart to banquet, being prepared, ac- 
cording to Feloship, to " spare no pence." The triumph- 
ant speech of Love Fayned — 

Be Bure then I shall allways prevaile— 

is the last line of the extant portion of the play. 

The piece follows Morality tradition, clearly enough, in 
regard to structure. As to purpose, it may be readily 
classified with the drama of Protestant controversy on the 
basis of certain obvious allusions. A definitely anti- 
Papist temper is indicated by the speech of Falshode 
(v. 217) :— 

I reigne as an Imperiall magyatrate at rome. 

Further evidence of the same kind is found in the oath 
"by the masse" which is constantly in the mouths of 
Falshode and Love Fayned (pp. 89, 109, 113, 115, 119, 
122, 132), in contrast to the pious evangelical utterances 
of Love TJnfayned and Familiaritie. The bounds may, 
however, be drawn more narrowly within the general area 
of Dissent, by a comparison of certain passages in the* 
play with the characteristic features of the Anabaptist 
movement in England. Such a comparison has led me to 
the following interpretation of the action: Feloship, type 
of the man desirous of some religious affiliation, is brought 
to a state of virtue by the Anabaptists, represented by Love 
Unfayned. The latter is supported in his arguments by 
Familiaritie, who stands for the Familist doctrine of 
spiritual love. Feloship ultimately succumbs to the joint 
forces of the Papacy and the Church of England, personi- 

^ Stage direction *' cantant." 

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fied in Falshode and Love Fayned,® who have made com- 
mon cause against their oommon enemy^ Anabaptism. 

Before attempting to establish this interpretation^ it 
will be well to indicate briefly the course of the Anabaptist 
movement in England,® and the attitude taken toward it by 
the authorities. Although a few sporadic cases of the here- 
sy come to light previous to the reign of Elizabeth/^ the 

• *' Falshode " certainly stands for the Church of Rome (cf . ▼. 217 ) , 
and " Love Fayned " is a fitting title for the Church that had, from 
a dissenting point of yiew, only pretended reform. 

*A bibliography for the history of Anabaptism on the Continent 
will be found in the Cambridge Modem History, vol. n; see also 
Karl Kautsky, Oommwnam in Central Europe before the Reforma- 
turn, translated by J. L. and E. J. Milliken, London, 1892, ch. v. 
For the history of the English Anabaptists, the standard work of 
reference is Mr. Champlin Burrage's The Early English Dissenters 
in the Light of Recent Research, Cambridge, 1912. In this work, 
tht Anabaptists are discussed with special reference to their religious 
dogma; the matters of their social theory and standards of living, 
points with which the present article is specially concerned, are not 
touched upon. An article by Mr. Richard Heath, The Anabaptists 
and their English Descendants, Contemporary Review, vol. ux, pp. 
389-407, contains valuable references, but disregards chronology in 
its arrangement of data. 

"John Foxe records that in 1535 ten Dutchmen "counted for 
Anabaptists " were burned in London and other English cities {Acts 
a/nd Monuments, London, 1684, vol. n, p. 270, col. 1; the Registers 
of London cited as authority). Mr. A. F. Pollard, citing Acts of 
the P. C, 1552-54, pp. 131-138, states that in these years " there was 
a sect newly sprung up in Kent," and that ecclesiastical authorities 
regarded Knox as "a great confounder of these Anabaptists" {Pol, 
Hist, of Eng,, N. Y., 1910, vol. vi, p. 68). Strype records that in 
1560 Archbishop Parker served on a commission "empowered to 
correct and punish" the Anabaptists {Life and Acts of Matthew 
Parker, Oxford, 1821, vol. i, p. 54) ; and the Articles of the Convo- 
cation of 1552 condemn the Anabaptist theory of property {Litur- 
gies of King Edioard VI, Parker Soc., vol. xiv, pp. 536, 548). All 
recent historians agree that at this time the popular signification 
of the term "Anabaptist" was extremely vague, a circumstance 
which renders much of the testimonial evidence on the subject some- 
what elujiive. 

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Anabaptists did not achieve a collective importance until 
after her accession.^^ She issued a proclamation against 
them in 1568, ordering '^ all manner of persons bom 
either in forreigne parts^ or in her Majesties dominions^ 
that have conceaved any manner of such heretical opinions 
as the Anabaptists do hold," to leave the realm within 
twenty days.^^ In 1575, according to Archbishop Parker, 
" great nimibers of Anabaptists were taken." ^' The sect 
made slow headway, but persisted. Mr. Padelford has 
proved, it would seem beyond dispute, that the Anabaptists 
are the object of Spenser's attack in the allegory of Arte- 
gall and the giant (F. Q., Bk. v. Canto. 2, st. 29-54), and 
the satirical narrative of the Fox and the Ape (M. H. T. 
w. 129-149).^* The first definitely organized congrega- 
tions of Anabaptists in England appear in the early years 
of the seventeenth century.^^ The Anabaptists now begin 
to be articulate as a group ; pamphlets in defense of their 
doctrines appear in increasing numbers, and hostile re- 

" Cf. Strype, lAfe and AoU of John Whitgift, Oxford, 1822, vol. i, 
pp. 71-73. 

" Strype, Life and Acts of Archhiahop Orindal, Oxford, 1821, pp. 
180-101. The proclamation is referred to also by Camden, Huctory 
of the Mo$i Renowned and Yiotorioiis Princess EUzaheth, London, 
1688, Bk. I, p. 48. 

*» Strype, Parker, vol. n, p. 424. Mr. Pollard (op, oit., p. 866) 
states that in 1575 Guar as spoke of the presence of Anabaptists in 
London; and that on July 22 of the same year two Flemish Ana- 
baptists were burnt at Smithfield. 

^"Spenser's Arraignment of the Anabaptists," Jour. Eng. and 
Ger, Phil., voL xn, pp. 434-448. 

^ Cf. Burrage, op. oit., vol. i, p. 251. The first English Anabaptist 
congregation to be settled in England was that led by lliomas 
Helwys and John Murton, according to Mr. Burrage. Its monbers 
had previously belonged to an English Anabaptist group in Holland, 
but established themselves in London about 1611-1612. Mr. Burrage 
believes that other congregations nuiy have been organized in various 
counties prior to 1620. 

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sponses are drawn forth.^* Evidence of the growing 
strength of the sect, and of the suspicion with which it was 
regarded by the aristocracy, is to be found at numerous 
points in the Autobiography of D^Ewes. He writes in 
eulogy of the king's efforts, in 1617, to suppress Ana- 
baptism; ^'' and again in 1625 lie commends the king's 
"care to maintain the doctrine of England pure and 
simple" against various "blasphemous Anabaptists.''^* 
That the sect achieved a degree of power regarded as 
dangerous, is suggested by D'Ewes' statement that in 1628 
" tlyB Duke of Buckingham procured himself to be elected 
Chancellor of the ITniversity of Cambridge by the Ar- 
minian party, or enemies of Gbd's grace and providence 
which till of late years have called themselves Anabap- 
tists." ^* It is not necessary here to follow further the 
history of the movement, which gains in strength and 
undergoes numerous modifications during the Civil War 
and Protectorate. In the heated sectarianism of that 
period, the elements of various religious groups were dis- 
engaged and recombined, and the identity of the Ana- 
baptists became merged with that of new denominations 
that had taken rise within their own ranks.^^ 

An interpretation of Love Fayned and Unfayned as 
an Anabaptist document would, it is seen, meet no difii- 
cultiee of chronology. The period to which the ms. of 

^Gf. Burrage, op. dt., vol. i, pp. 251-260, for titles of works 
appearing between 1611 and 1624. 

^ Ed. HaUiwell, London, 1845, vol. i, pp. 07-08. 

""/Md., pp. 264-265. 

^Ihid., pp. 388-880. He had written in 1620 (of. vol. i, p. 142) 
that "no Anabaptistical or Pelasgian heresies against God's grace 
and providence were then stirring " at Cambridge. 

** inie question of the later developments of Anabaptism and of its 
relation to the tenets of the modem Baptists and Quakers, is dis- 
cussed by Mr. Burrage and Mr. Heath. 

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the play belongs is a time when the Anabaptist movement 
was beginning to define itself somewhat positively, and 
the Anabaptists were suflSciently in the foreground of pub- 
lic affairs to be on the defensive. A kind of precedent 
for the expression of their views in dramatic form (or an 
approximation to dramatic form) was, moreover, not lack- 
ing; one of the most widely-known of the doctrinal pam- 
phlets, A Description of what Ood hath predestined conr 
cermng Man, is described, by the author of a hostile reply, 
as " A Dialogue,^^ and a work by the Anabaptist leader 
Murton is entitled Objections answered in Dialogue 
Form.^^ Let us turn, then, to a consideration of the prin- 
ciples and manner of life of the Anabaptists. 

The basic Anabaptist doctrines are recorded by Bernard 
Rotmann, one of the pioneers of the sect on the C!ontinent, 
in the Restitution rechter und gesunder christlicher 
lehre,^^ first printed at MUnster in 1534. Herein are 
presented the Anabaptists' interpretation of the Fall, In- 
carnation and Redemption; their objections to infant 
baptism; their belief in their organization as the true 
Church of Christ, in justification by works, and in com- 
munity of property ; and their views as to the Eucharist^ 
the rights of husband and wife in marriage, the future 
kingdom of Christ on earth, the proper attitude toward 
civil authorities, and the use of the sword. It is with the 
social theories expressed in Chap, xvni, "Van Leeff- 
liker gemeinschap der Hilligen,'' that we shall be chiefly 

"^Cf. Burrage, op. oit,, vol. i, pp. 267, 258. An attack upon the 
Anabaptists through the medium of drama, such as Bale's indictment 
in Kynge Joha/n (Manly, Bpeoimena, vol. i, p. 616, yt. 2591-2596), 
might moreover have called forth a response in kind. 

■• Ed. Max Niemeyer, in Neudruoke deutacher Litteraturtcerke de9 
XVI, und XVII, Jahrhunderta, No. 77-78 {Flugachriftm am der 
Reformaiionazeit, No. vm, Halle, 1888). 

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concerned, as Love Fayned and Unfayned does not at any 
point touch upon matters of religious dogma. ^* Various 
documents which present, from both hostile and sympa- 
thetic points of view, the character and customs of the 
Anabaptists, offer further material for comparison with 
the play. 

The central point in establishing the Anabaptist charac- 
ter of Love Fayned and Unfayned rests upon the passages 
which have to do with Feloship's property. According to 
Love Fayned and Falshode, the other two characters in- 
tend to strip Feloship of his possessions and reduce him to 
b^gary. "A beggar they do tearme youe" (v. 155) 
Falshode taunts Feloship; and adjures him further (v. 
170) :— 

Must youe give to ye beggars aU that youe have? 

Love Fayned describes the habitual operations by which 
they get possession of wealth (w. 184-195) : — 

Marke me nowe adayes yf there be an heire of lande 

howe they practyse by falshode to have yt out of his hande 

well yf youe should study familiaritie to please 

where youe be a gentleman should not be worth two p(ease) 

oh they will cap hime and sugred words render 

they will seme as that much your selfe they do tender 

all is to have your lands in theyre possession 

which yf the may attayne by any condicion 

then may ye go alone wyth a flea in youre ear 

yender goeth the ayre of lyn ye may se by his geare. 

let him packe as a begger ynto the beggers shoole 

such ys the end of everye foole. 

Feloship's reply shows that it is his r^ard for his pos- 
sessions which has been appealed to (w. 202-203) : — 

I se my lande might have come from himdreth to penc0 
they would have Intysed me to suche expenc^. 

"A possible exception is a vague reference to justification by 
works, to be considered later. 

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Love Unfayned and Familiaritie would apparently have 
constrained Feloship to give his property completely into 
their hands. Translated, this situation seems to illustrate 
the Anabaptist principle which denied the right of private 

This tenet, which excluded from the community of the 
elect all who refused to give their possessions into a com- 
mon fund,** was the object of early *' and persistent hos- 
tility. The voice of the Church was lifted up against it 
repeatedly. Bishop Hooper, in the Articles concerning 
Christian Religion, writes : "Item, that the doctrine v^ the 
Anabaptists . . . farming all manner of goods and chattels 
to be in common . . . and such other like doctrines and their 
sects are very pernicious and damnable.*' *• Thomas 
R(^rs, who makes frequent reference to Anabaptist 
heresies, attacks the principle in his exposition of Article 
38 : " The riches and goods of Christians as touching the 
right, title and possession of the same are not common 
... Of another mind are the Anabaptists."*^ Bullinger 
also preached against them: "But because there is no 
small number of that furious sect of Anabaptists, which 
deny this propriety of several possessions, I will by some 
evident testimonies of scripture declare that it is both 

••Cf. Reatitutum, p. 71. 

"Perhaps the earliest recorded charge is a statement in the 
Hereaiea Condemned in 15S0 (cited by Mr. Heath, op, oU,, p. 401) 
to the effect that the Anabaptists said, " The woorst Turke lyving 
hath as much right to my goodes as his nede, as my own household 
or I myselfe." 

^ Later Writinge of Bishop Hooper, Parker Society, vol. zxvn, 
p. 121. For other expressions of Bishop Hooper on this point, see 
the same volume, pp. 42, 76 (noted also by Mr. Padelford, op. oit,), 

** Rogers, The OmthoKo Doctrine of the Ohuroh of EngUmd, an 
Empoeition of the Thirty-Nifte Articles: Parker Soc., voL XLV, p. 
362. See also p. 355, and the references to Bale, Mystery of Ini- 
quity (Geneva, 1545), on p. 358. 

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allowed and ratified of all.'^ *® There is a corroborative 
passage in the Histovre des Andbaptides of Pere Ca- 
troTi,^® a volume which, although not a primary authority, 
may be cited, since it is based on the works of contempora- 
ries of the Anabaptists. The author states that the Ana- 
baptists caUed themselves apostles because ^^ ils abandon- 
naient leurs femmes, leurs enf ans, & leurs professions, 
pour courir $a et la sans souliers, sans bourse & sans ar- 
gent ; qu'ils . . . voulaient que toutes choses f ussent com- 

It is Uai necessary to pile up instances '® of th'* opposition 
aroused by this revolutionary principle. Tiat the Ana- 
baptists, like Love Unfayned and Familiaritie, were sus- 
pected of self-interest is less easy to establish except under 
the general fact that they were repeatedly branded " hypo- 
crites" on various grounds. Whitgift refers to their 
" hypocrisy and straitness of life," saying that they " pre- 
tended all their doings the glory of Qod, the edifying of 
the Church, and the purity of the (JospeL" '^ Pere Ca- 
trou, referring to the Anabaptists' practices in 1608, con- 

" Bullinger, Deoadet, Parker Soc., vol. ix, p. 18. 

^HiBtovre dea Anabapiiate^t Oimtenami lew DoaMne, let DiveneM 
Opinioftt qui let divtMent en pUmeun $eoie», let trouhUa qu'Ua ant 
oauaias d enfin tout oe qui ^eat pa8%4 de plus oonaidSrable d leur 
4gard depuia Van 1621, juaquea d pr^aent. The work gives the 
history of Anabaptism on the Ck>ntinent from 1521 to about 1640 
(the last date mentioned in the bo<^). Editions were issued in 1605 
(Paris) and 1690, 1700, 1702 (Amsterdam). The references given 
in this study are from a copy of the edition of 1700, " A Amsterdam, 
ches Jaques Desbordes, devant le Ck>mptoir de Cologne, MDCG," 
owned by the Library of the University of Pennsylvania. Hie pas- 
sage cited above is found on p. 6. 

** One may refer also to a tract entitled A Warning for England, 
Harleian Miao,, vol. v, p. 259. Mr. Padelford's paper, referred to 
above, deals almost wholly with this point. 

''Strype, Whitgift, vol. i, p. 73. This passage, and others from 
the Life of Whitgift, are referred to also by Mr. Padelford, op. oit, 


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aiders that they upheld oommunity of possessions as a bait 
for the masses. ^^ Pour attirer la Populace^ ils mettoient 
leurs biens en communaute, & f aisoient provisicm d'une 
quantity de ble, dont ils nourrissoient les pauvres^ ce que 
ne contribuent pas peu 2l Taccroissement de leur Parti." ** 
It is hardly possible that the upholders of a theory of the 
equalization of property should have escaped the accusa- 
tion of greed." 

The allusions made by Falshode to the appearance and 
mien of his opponents, are to be explained also by refer- 
ence to earlier and contemporary characterizations of the 
Anabaptists. He advises Feloship 

Marke there wede ds there ptid^ensed holynes. 

they would make one believe they were men of greate godlines. 

Their " wede " appears to have been, if not actually beg- 
garly, at least so uniformly simple and plain as to mark 
them out from the rest of the world. " They were humbly 
clad in coarse cloth and broad felt hats," says Johannes 
Qesler, who, according to Keller, knew the St. Gall Ana- 
baptists personally.** The Histoire des Anabaptistes de- 
scribes thus the so-called " Emissaries " sent out by the 
Anabaptists of Moravia: — 

Ces Emissaires .... Bcavoient Tart de gagner les Esprits par une 
Saintetd apparente, — 

quite literally a "pretensed holynes." Again, a few 
lines later: — 

'*H%8t des Anah., p. 251. 

" It is interesting in this connection to note the attitude of Strype, 
who might have been Whitgilt as far as ecclesiastical antipathies 
were concerned. He entertains just such suspicions of the Puritan 
reformers: ''and perhaps . . . they had their eye upon the revenues 
of the Church" {Whiigift, vol. i, p. 57). 

** Keller, Ein Apoatel der Wiedert&ufer, p. 65; cited by Mr. Heath, 
Oontemp, Rev., vol. ux, p. 396. The work of Keller has not been 
accessible for me. 

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A les voir, on les auroient pris pour des Saints, tant ils faitoient 
paroltre de modestie ei de pi^U. On les voyait ayec des habits 
eztrtaionent simples, un baton h la main, la vue baisste, A la 
douceur peinte sur la visage, faisant paroltre une patience A une 
bontd toute extraordinaire. Et c'^tait par tout ce beau dehors qu'ils 
s'introduisent chez les personnes les' plus riches, & les attiroient dans 
leur society" 

This statement would seem to cover exactly the situation 
of Feloship, who is classed among "personnes les plus 
riches," and who, according to a hostile view of the mat- 
ter, is being deceived by " douceur peinte sur la visage." 
Testimony from a pamphlet called Mock-Majesty, or the 
Siege of Munster,^^ is useful here. The author states 
that Satan, the spirit animating the Anabaptists, has been 
obliged, after the ruin of his hopes by the disaster at 
Munster, to plan more subtle means to gain his ends. 

He that will undertake to inveagle, and draw men into snares, 
must by no means affect empire and command, much less act the 
tyrant. This being detested alike by all men, and all eyes being 
broad open to obsenre and interpret, whereto such counsels tend, 
they must go to work by more subtle means, as it were by-paths, 
if they intend their designs shall obtain their wished-for issue, and 
take effect. 

Among these " subtle means " are mentioned : — 

a sordid and uncouth attire, a behaviour of the countenance to 
composedness and austerity; . . . with an outward profession . . . 
of extraordinary humility in thonselves. By these means, indeed, 
and by such close policy as this, even wise men have been over- 

^Hi9t, dea Anab., p. 250. 

^ Mooh-Majeaiy, or the Siege of Munater, London, printed for 
J. S. and L. G. 1644; reprinted in the Harleian MisoeUony, vol. v, 
pp. 455-478. 

"Harl. Mi80,, vol. v, p. 471. The use of the word "policy" in 
the passage quoted is especially interesting, as the term is used by 
the adversaries of Anabaptism in the play. Love Fayned advises 
Falshode (v. 135):— 

We must worke by poUicyes for to converte his mynde. 

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Certain other points in the speech of Falshode are 

difficult to explain except as shafts originally directed 

against the Anabaptists^ caught and sent back by the 


Thoughe some man should say that of wealthe thowe hast plentye 
thowe must allwayes f ayne that thy purse ys but emptye, 

uttered by Falshode (w. 95-96) in the course of his eulo- 
gy of deceit, reads like a paraphrase of some such indict- 
ment as Bishop Whitgif t's : " That they '^ (the Anabap- 
tist?) "could not teach truly, because they had great 
livings, and lived wealthily and pleasantly.'^ ^® Again, 
the cryptic lines that follow immediately: — 

I praye ye what man goeth throwe the wode 
but he that can play two faces in one hode, — 

can be explained on no other ground, so far as I can see, 
except as echoing a charge against Anabaptist methods of 
propaganda. The Histoire des Andbaptistes gives signifi- 
cant testimony here. About Pentecost, the author states, 
(in discussing affairs in 1600), it was customary to send 
out from various Anabaptist centres emissaries who should 
spread the faith in new fields. The procedure of the emis- 
saries was as follows : — 

De peur d'etre decouverts, ils ne prenoient pas la route ordinaire, 
mais ils passoient par des lieuz 6cartez, dans dea hois'* & dans des 
montagnes, dont ils connoissoient tons les passages.^ 

"Strype, Whtigift, vol. i, p. 71. This accusation is of course at 
variance with the direct testimony elsewhere adduced as to the 
simple way of life of the Anabaptists. 

** Italics mine. 

^HUi, de% Anab,t p. 250. The passage has reference to the prac- 
tices of Anabaptists in Moravia, but the methods of the parent sect 
on the Continent would naturally be communicated to the groups in 
England. The title of the first edition of the Hist, dea Andb. 
(Paris, 1695) indeed contains the phrase "tant en All^nagne & 
Hollande, qu'Angleterre." 

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One notes also that the good characters in the play 
exhibit a marked hostility toward mirth per se, which 
corresponds to the attitude toward the pleasures of life 
repeatedly attributed to the Anabaptists. That the wicked 
characters in the play should have all the fun is of course 
quite in the Morality tradition ; but in this case the fun 
is of such an innocuous and stiff-kneed sort as to indicate 
an uncommonly staid bias on the part of the author. The 
speech of Love Fayned to Falshode (v. 10) : — 

Be mery, man, let lamentationB pass, — 

might not in itself carry an indictment of merrymaking, 
were it not for the fact that the good characters obvious- 
ly avoid such expressions. The banqueting revel, too, to 
which the two wicked characters carry off Feloship after 
their victory, seems much too tame a prospect to call forth 
reproach from any but the most ascetic. The author's 
point of view harmonizes completely with that attributed 
to the Anabaptists *^ by Whitgift. " They earnestly cried 
out against pride and gluttony, &c. They spake much 
of mortification; they pretended great gravity; they 
sighed; they seldom or never laughed; they were very 
austere in reprehending."^^ Again, in Mode Majesty, 
we find mentioned among their Machiavellian methods, 
" a hanging of the head with dejected looks, frequent 
fastings." Bullinger disapproved their extreme aus- 
terity: " This " (the legitimacy of reasonable pleasures) 

** It is true that this characteristic fits equally well the " Psalm- 
singing Puritan," but this circumstance hardly warrants the con- 
sideration of a possible Puritan source for the play. A Puritan of 
the less genial type who was sympathetic with the stage, would 
be an anomaly. 

•Strype, Whitgift, vol. i, p. 73. The Bishop adds, "They talk 
gloriously," a phrase applying well enough to the Evangelical fer- 
vour of Love Unfayned's address to Feloship (w. 25-60). 

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"do I somewhat more largely declare, because of the 
Anabaptists, and certain senseless Stoics and other new 
sprung up hypocrites, the Carthusian monks, who with 
most tragical outcries condemn all allowable pleasures and 
lawful delights/' ^» 

A further significant difference between the good and 
evil characters appears in their manner of address. 
Familiaritie addresses Love TJnf ayned as " loving brother '' 
(v. 8) ; the latter uses the same term in greeting him 
(v. 13) ; and later (v. 6%), Familiaritie speaks to 
" brother love unf ayned." ^* They address one another 
as " Feloship," " Familiaritie," etc., always without pre- 
fix. Falshode, on the other hand announces his en- 
trance with a "God save ye, my masters!" (v. 21) ad- 
dressed to the audience. Later he addresses the hero as 
" Master Feloship " (v. 140) ; and Love Fayned calls 
Feloship "syr" (v. 144). Whitgift again supplies us 
with testimony as to Anabaptist ^^ usage. " They gave 
honour and reverence to none. And they used to speak 
to such as were in authority without any signification of 
honour. Neither would they call men by their titles, and 
answered churlishly." ^* 

It seems probable further that the speech of Love 
Fayned in reference to Love ITnfayned and Familiaritie 
(w. 158-159):— 

^Bullinger, DeoadeSf Parker Soc., vol. iz, pp. 57-58. 

** It is true that Falshode calls Love Fayned " deare brother," but 
he uses the term in an obviously mocking spirit. Love Fayned like- 
wise speaks scornfully of "love vnf ayned, that brother." 

^ With certain groups of Puritans, also, the usual mode of address 
was "sister" and "brother" (cf. Trevelyan, England Under the 
Stuarts, Oxford, 1904, p. 65). 

^•Strype, Whitgift, vol. i, p. 72; cf. also Life and Acts of John 
Aylmer, Oxford, 1821, p. 17. Rogers states that "the Anabaptists 
condemn all superiority among men, saying, that every man should 
be equal for calling" (Parker Soc., vol. zlv, p. 830). 

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hange the slaves hang them yf they come in my wa(ye) 
what do I force withe my sword theme to slaye? — 

is an indirect medium for the protest of the Anabap- 
tists against persecution. One of the charges brought 
against them by Bishop Whitgift is that they "com- 
plained much of persecution, and braced that they de- 
fended their cause not only with words but with the 
shedding of blood/' *^ 

A final detail, perhaps of less certain significance, may 
be added. Love TJnf ayned's statement that he is continu- 
ally occupied with good works (v. 38) : — 

in labors good to spend my time I love do never cease, — 

may reflect the Anabaptist dogma of justification by 
works.*^ Frequent charges were brought against the Ana- 
baptists on this head ; Bogers classes the sect among false 
believers who " teach that man is justified ... by works 
without faith.'' *• 

Love Fayned and Unfayned, then, bears out in a nimi- 
ber of respects the hypothesis of Anabaptist authorship ; 
the speeches of the good characters reflect Anabaptist prin- 
ciples, and those of the evil characters echo accusations 
against the sect. One characteristic of the play, how- 
ever, leads us to infer an auxiliary influence. This char- 
acteristic is the .insistent stress, in the play, upon the 
idea of spiritual love, which becomes an especially posi- 
tive emphasis in the speeches of Love Unfayned. The 

* Strype, Whitgift, vol. i, p. 72. 

* Of. Restitution, eh. iz. 

^Oatholio Doctrine, Parker Soc., vol. XLV, p. 63; he refers to 
Bale, Mystery of Iniquity, p. 53. Bale perhaps has the Anabaptists 
in mind also in the attack upon certain '* hypocrites " who believe in 
"will-works," found in OodPs Promi8e$ (ed. Hazlitt-Dodsley, Old 
Play 9, 1874, vol. i, p. 822). Cf. also Padelford, op. oit,, pp. 445-446. 

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frequent repetition of the word " love " indicates that the 
conception had, in the playwright's mind, the directing 
force of a dogma. It is true that a belief in ^Hoving 
the brotherhood" was a fundamental Anabaptist doc- 
trine, but it is with a contemporary group that the doc- 
trine of love is put forward as the all-important and all- 
embracing tenet. This group is the Family of Love, or 
Familists.*^® With these, love is literally the "blessed 
word"; it appears in the titles of almost all the works 
of Henry Nicholas, the founder,**^ and serves as a nuclear 
term for much of the expression of Familist faith. " The 
fundamental doctrine of H. N.," ^^ in the words of Mr. 
Thomas, " and that which was the reason of the existence 
of the sect was that of love." ^^ The manner in which 
the phraseology of Familist mysticism helped to give the 
conception the semblance of a definite creed is illustrated 
by the following extracts (cited by Mr. Thomas) from 
A Figure of the True and Spiritv/U Tabernacle, one of 
the works of Nicholas that circulated in England in 

" The Love is the Light of the world "; " the Love is the gracious 
word of the Lord, or bread of Life, which is come to us out of 
heaven. For the Love is essentially of the very true good, the head- 
sum of the commandment and the bond of perfection. Through 
which Love the secret Treasures of God the Father and the abundant 
Kiches of his spiritual and heavenly goods be revealed." . . . ''For 
the end, or the perfection of all things (namely the chief sum of aU 

*For the history of the Familist movement, see the mon<^graph 
of Mr. A. C. Thomas, The Family of Love, or PamiUsU, Haverford 
College Studies, No. 12 (1893), and Burrage, op, oit., vol. i, ch. vm. 

*^Cf. the article by Miss G. Fell Smith in the Dictionary of 
National Biography; a list is there given of the works of Nicholas, 
with the English titles of such as were translated. 

■ Nicholas is often referred to as " H. N.," the signature which he 
appended to most of his writings. 

•• Op, 01*., p. 88. 

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good, or all what one can name for righteousnesB and truth) that 
is the Love: Yea, all what is to he known or understood of the 
godly things, that is the Love." ** 

There is obviously nothing in these generalizations that 
is at variance with Anabaptist theology, since they mer^ 
ly embody one of the tenets of Christian belief, " God 
is love/' This belief, however, the followers of Nicholas 
had made, in a sense, distinctively their own by reiterating 
it until it became the characteristic formula of the group. 
It is, I believe to some such explicit and positive force 
as that supplied by Familist doctrine that we must refer 
the striking emphasis on " spiritual love " in the play we 
are considering. 

The conclusion that Familist thought influenced the 
play in this respect involves, again, no chronological dif- 
ficulties, as the Familist movement in England was prac- 
tically contemporaneous with the rise of Anabaptism. 
The Familists appear first in English records of 1552- 
55,*^^ but they seem not to have come into public notice 
until 1575. Strype states that " about this time a Sect 
that went by tiie name of the Family of Love began to 
be taken notice of," ^^ and it is in this year that they 
presented to Parliament "An Apology for the Service of 
Love and the people that own it, commonly called the 
Family of Love.'' To this was appended "A Brief Re- 
hearsal of the Belief of the Good-willing in England 
which are named the Family of Love, With the Con- 
fession of their upright Christian Religion against the 

"/WA, p. 33. 

^Ibid., pp. 16-17. 

" Annals of the Reformastion, London, 1725, vol. n, p. 375: Baker's 
Chronicle has no record of Familists in England until "the 23d 
year of Elizabeth," and states that in this year several of H. N.'s 
books were "by Proclamation commanded to be burnt" {Chronicle 
of the Kings of England, London, 1769, p. 367 ) . 

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false Accusation of their Against-speakers." '^^ Camden 
speaks of them as ** troubling the peace of the Church " 
in 1580, naming certain of their works which were then 
circulating in England ;'^^ and in the same year bills for 
the suppression of the Familists were passed in the House 
of Commons.*® A petition which they presented to 
James in 1604 •^ indicates that there was some agita- 
tion against them at this time; but not until 1645 do 
they again come into prominenca In this year the 
preaching of a man named Bandal appears to have added 
numbers to the sect.*^ Strype states, probably in ref- 
erence to this situation, that the Familists ^^ appeared 
again openly in the Time of the Anarchy in the last 
age." ^^ He speaks of them as extinct in his own day: 
" For, I remember, a Gentleman, a great admirer of that 
Sect witiiin less than twenty years ago, told me that 
there was then but one of the Family of Love alive, and 
he an old man." •• 

Although the religious sentiment characteristic of the 
followers of Nicholas is reflected in Love Fayned and 
Unfayned, the author of the play cannot have been a 
convinced and consistent Familist. To establi^ a com- 
plete set of differentia is, of course, practically out of 
the question, on account of the confused use of terms in 
the controversy of the period. •* Any one sect may be 

" Strype, AnnaU, vol. n, pp. 375-377. 

^History of Elietab^h, p. 48. 

^CommanB Journals, vol. i) pp. 128-130; cited by Miss Smith. 

* Fuller, Ohurdh History of Britain, London, 1868, vol. m, p. 239. 

•* Strype, AnntUs, vol. n, p. 600. 

•/M<J., vol. I, p. 378. 

*" Ihid,, Vol. I, p. 378. The date of the first edition of the Annals 
is 1709-08, so that the last Familist known to Strype would have 
been an old man in 1688. 

^Strype affirms that Anabaptists sheltered themselves under tiie 

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charged with certain incidental errors of another; for 
example, the writer of a pamphlet which appeared in 
1579 says that Familism was ^^ the most pestiferous and 
deadly heresy of all other. Because there was not al- 
most any one particular erroneous and schismatical Fan- 
tasy, whereof the Family of Love had not borrowed one 
branch or other thereof/' •* The extent to which the 
Familists practised the principle of communistic owner- 
ship is, in particular, difficult to define on account of 
conflicting testimony. One of the indictments listed in 
flie Apology of 1575 is that " they desired that all Men's 
goods should be in common." Rogers accuses ihem on 
the same grounds; he finds authority in an antagonistic 
pamphlet which appeared in London in 1579, entitled 
A Displaying of the Family of Love,^^ and also in H. 
N.'s Spiritual Land of Peace.^'^ The principle of com- 
munity of goods is, on the other hand, not included in 
the Rehearsal of Belief appended to the Apology, and 
hence would seem not to have been actively defended by 
the English Familists. On one point, however, there is 
unequivocal evidence, on the basis of which we may bar 
from consideration a possible Familist origin for the 
play. The Family of Love as a body, never spoke out 
against the Church of Rome; they exhibited, in fact, a 
passive, quasi-sympathetic attitude toward the Papacy. 
Their attitude is perhaps exaggerated by the Bishop of 
Winchester, in "certain notes" made by him on H. 
N.'s Evangelivm Regni, but his comment is significant: 

name of the Familists {AfmaU, vol. ii, p. 379), and in the petition 
referred to above, the Familists showed resentment at having been 
classed in popular opinion with the Anabaptists. 

• Strype, Awnals, vol. n, p. 877. 

•Rogers, Catholic Doctrine, Parker Soc., vol. XLV, p. 366. 

•'/WiJ., p. 364. 

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And although the author had not set to his name, yet it should 
seem to be some friar's doing or some other that favoured the 
Church of Rome. . . . The Pope he calleth the CfJUef Anointed, the 
Chief Bishop, the High Priest who hath his being in the most holy 
Sanctuary of true and perfect Holiness, most holy Father.*" 

Rogers speaks of *'tlie half -Papists, the Family of 
Love";*® and a hostile pamphlet entitled A Confutor 
iion of Certain Articles (a response to the Eva/ngelium 
Regni) accuses them of sympathy for the rites and cere- 
monies of the Church of Rome.''® One may note, final- 
ly, the case of one Anthony Randal, an English minister 
deposed in 1681 for his Familist sympathies. Although 
he " neither approved of the Romish Church, nor yet of 
this of ours," he "held it not lawful to speak a word 
against either." ''^ No orthodox member of the Family 
of Love could have penned such a reference to the Pope 
as Falshode's self-characterization, 

I reigne as an Imperiall magystrate at Kome, 

and the numerous mocking allusions to the mass. 

Love Fayned and Unfayned cannot then be regarded 
as reflecting a point of view consistently Familist. 
Nevertheless, the correspondence between the emphasis 
upon love in the play and the tenor of Familist literature 
must be taken into consideration. The character Famili- 
aritie,.too, must be accounted for; the name is difficult 
to explain except as a derivative of "Family." "^^ It may 

" Strype, Annals, vol. n, p. 589. 

^Cath, Doct., Parker Soc., vol. xlv, p. 187. 

*• Strype, Annals, vol. n, p. 598. 

~/Wd., p. 421. 

" It may be weU to note the difference between the significance 
of the name Familiaritie in this play, and the use of the same term 
by the editor of Lyndesay's Three Estates (EETS, vol. xxxvn) to 
render Homeliness of the original. Hameliness, a kind of boisterous 

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be noted further that a precedent for dramatic expres- 
sion existed in Familist as well as in Anabaptist litera- 
ture; there is extant an English translation of a work 
by H. N. entitled Comedia, A Work in Byrne Corir 
tayning An Enterlude of Myndes witnessing the Man's 
Fall from Ood and Christ, Translated out 0/ the Base- 
Almayne into English;''^ and the Apology of 1575 is 
" set forth dialogue-wise, between the Citizen, the Coun- 
try-man and an Exile." ''^ Inferences from all the data 
that have been presented can only be reconciled under 
the hypothesis that the author of Love Fayned and Un- 
fayned was an eclectic dissenter, wholly sympathetic with 
Anabaptist principles of Separatism and communism, but 
impregnated with the mystic spiritual teachings of the 
Family of Love. 

Such a point of view is well within the possibilities. 
For the type of composite religious sympathy that I 
have described, there is, in fact, a striking historic illus- 
tration. One of the well-known controversialists of the 
period, Edmond Jessop, was at some time previous to 
1623 an Anabaptist; but, as we learn from his own state- 
ment, he leaned strongly toward Familist principles even 
while in the Anabaptist camp. In the Discovery of the 

wanton, is a character diametrically opposite to the pious homiUst 

That the name Familiaritie has reference to one of the lesser 
** Families " of the period — ^the Family of the Mount, the Family of 
the EssentiaUsts, etc. — is wholly improbable. The peculiarities of 
these minor sects (cf. Strype, Annals, vol. i, pp. 379-380) are not 
reflected in Love Fayned and Unfayned. 

"A copy is owned by the Bodleian Library; Miss Smith {loe, oit,) 
gives the catalogue number as MS. Bodl. M257. Greizenach, Ge- 
sehiohte dea nev^eren Dramae, Halle, 1903, vol. m, pp. 527-628, has 
a brief note on the content of the play. He refers to Nicholas, 
however, as a " Wiedertftuf er." 

'* Strype, Annals, vol. n, p. 376. 

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Errors of the English Anabaptists, publifihed soon after 

his re-conversion to the Church of England, he records 

thus his former divided convictions: 

When I walked with the Anabaptists, . . . th<High strangely de- 
luded, yet was I kept by the power and providence of Qod from 
being seduced and led into that destroying and irrecoverable way 
of death before mentioned, namely the Familists, though very nigh 
unto it, having one foote entred therein whiles I walked with the 
Anabaptists aforesaid." 

A somewhat plausible case for Jessop's authorship 
could indeed be constructed, even with due allowance 
made for the temptations of coincidence. The sugges- 
tion does no violence to history or probability. Jessop 
was not without proselytizing zeal while he " walked with 
the Anabaptists/' for he seems to have personally spread 
propaganda. According to Mr. Burrage, a letter which 
was sent out at some time previous to 1623 by a London 
Anabaptist, who sought by this means to convert certain 
of his friends to Anabaptism, was in all probability writ- 
ten by Jessop.'^^ The fact that he is not known to have 
written dramas counts for little, for the author of the 
play in question is plainly trying a prentice hand. The 
circumstance that the play, though intended for the 
stage,'''' was apparently never acted, bears out the sug- 
gested theory, if we assume that Jessop returned to con- 
formity before his heretical drama saw the light The 
strongest argument for his authorship is the absence of 
competitors; no other controversialist of the period ex- 
hibits (so far as I know) a like Janus-faced character 
in his religious sympathies. In any event, the historic 
authenticity of his case lends support to the hypothesis 

*• Burrage, op. oii., vol. i, p. 266. 

"/Wd., pp. 266-266. 

" Cf. YY. 75-76, the opening lines of Falshode's first speech : — 
God save ye, my rmuters, god save ye this blessed day 
Why stare ye at me thus I wene ye be come to see a play. 

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I have submitted as to the type of religious motive which 
inspired Love Fayned and Unfuyned. 

The locality to which the play is to be assigned is a 
matter that must for the present be left open. If the 
reference to "sainct quintan's hall'' which occurs in 
the course of Falshode's invective against " ye beggars " 
could be identified, the play could of course be satisfae-- 
torily localized.''® Failing that, we can only place it 
generally in the eastern counties, where the Anabaptists 
and Familists flourished in greatest nimibers. Proba- 
bilities would be in favor of a home near London, the 
center of Anabaptist activities. 

Lave Fayned and Unfayned has, I believe, established 
a claim to more than superficial interest. Its most ob- 
vious appeal is, perhaps, that of the literary curiosity, 
for in form and temper the play is an anachronism; its 
ragged lines and naively inconsequential incident con- 
nect it with the period of rudimentary technique, and 
its allegorical polemics reflect none of the large splendors 
of the contemporary stage. But its real significance is 
not summed up in its reversion to lype. Viewed in its 
social bearings, the play stands in direct relation to its 
age, and. illumines from a new angle some of the ob- 
scurer aspects of the intellectual life of its generation. 

E. Bbatbicb Daw. 

** Unless the phrase is an obsolete by-word, ''sainct quintan's" 
must be a correctional institution or almshouse. The name does 
not, however, appear in Stow's Survey of London, Camden's Bfitan- 
nia, or Harrison's Detoription of England, although all these works 
mention numerous charitable and correctional institutions. Dug- 
dale does not list it among the monastic hostels. It may be one of 
the numerous unnamed almshouses recorded by Baker in the Ohron- 
iole among the ''pious works" which he enumerates for each suc- 
cessive reign. The tradition of charitable treatment of vagrants 
is associated with St. Quintin, Bishop of Arvergne and Bovergne; 
cf. Surius, De Prohatia Banotorum Vitia, Cologne, 1618, vol. iv, 
pp. 816-317. 

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Scholars have always recognized that there is a large 
degree of appropriateness in the assignment of the various 
Canterbury Tales to their respective tellers, and in a few 
cases an appropriateness also to the situation. Recently 
there have been determined efforts to extend the applica- 
tion of these principles as far as possible. Conspicuous 
among these is the position asserted with great emphasis 
and confidence by Professor Kittredge,^ who would have 
us believe that Groups D, E, and F of the Canterbury 
Tales constitute a " complete and highly finished " " act " 
in Chaucer's " Human Comedy f that the Wife's Prologue 
is a fling at the Clerk ; that this gentleman finds it " gall 
and wormwood " and in his Tale and Envoy makes a de- 
liberate and a studied reply; that during the Merchants 
Tale the Wife is "still in the foreground," and even 
" holds the centre of the stage " ; and that the Franklin, 
by a process that is " manifestly deliberate," carries the 
debate to " a triumphant conclusion by solving the prob- 

The facts on which this theory is supposed to rest may 
be summarized as follows: The Wife commends matri-^ 
mony; she asserts the sovereignty of wife over husband; 
she gives several flings at the ill-natured remarks that 
clerks have made about women, and mentions that her own ' 
fifth husband was a clerk of Oxford; she tells the story ' 
of a husband who had his own wish simply by letting his ^ 

^Ohauoer^t Discussion of Marriage^ in Modem Philology, ix, pp. 
436-467 (April, 1912) ; Ohauoer and his Poetry (Harvard University 
Press, 1916), pp. 185-210. 


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wife have hers ; and she gives a discourse on " gentillesse." 
Chaucer's Clerk of Oxford tells the story, after the clerk 
Petrarch, of an exceedingly submissive wife, whose virtues 
he commends, and in conclusion he recites an ironical 
poem bidding wives make their husbands miserable. The 
Merchant declares that this is just what his wife has done 
to him, and he tells the story of a wife who, when caught 
in the very act of adultery, succeeded in making her hus- 
band believe that she was devotedly faithful to him. This 
Tale incorporates a debate on marriage between Placebo 
and Justinus, the friends of the wronged husband, and 
another as to the worth of women between Pluto and Pro- 
serpine. The Merchant also echoes the language of the 
Wife of Bath, and once explicitly refers to her in the fol- 
lowing terms : 

But lat 118 waden out of this mateere. 
The Wyf of Bath, if ye han understonde, 
Of mariage which ye have on honde/ 
Declared hath ful wel in litel space. 

When the Merchant has finished, Our Host remarks that 
he, too, could say something of personal domestic troubles, 
but he cannot trust the discretion of the ladies present. 
The Franklin tells the story of a married couple who 
practiced mutual sovereignty and subjection, a story which 
he introduces with a discourse on " gentillesse,'' wherein 
he mentions the praise which clerks have bestowed upon 
the virtue of patience. Last of all, Professor Lowes has 
shown that the Wife^s Prologue and the Merchant's Tale 
both indisputably borrow ideas from the Mvroir de Mari- 
age of Eustache Deschamps. 

The order and date of the Tales in question receive no 
discussion from Professor Kittredge, who argues thruout 

' iohioh ye hwoe on honde. Surely this refers only to the fact that 
January^ contrary to the advice of Justinus, has chosen to marry. 


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as if all these Tales were written after the Canterbury 
Tales had been planned, and as if they were intended to 
stand in order as in the Oxford Chaucer. For the sake of 
simplicity I shall make the same assumption as to the dates 
of composition, except that I must register a doubt wheth- 
er the Clerk's Tale was not written much earlier than 1384 
and the Clerk's Envoy later, possibly much later, than his 
Tale. As to the order in which the Tales should stand, 
the eight manuscripts printed by Dr. Fumivall all give 
the parts of Group D in the same order. And there is 
no doubt that the Tales of Clerk and Merchant, both of 
which refer to the Wife of Bath, should come later than 
D. As to the position of Group F there is room for se- 
rious doubt.^ It might precede D and E, it might come 
between them, or it might follow them. If we were bound 
to co-ordinate F with D and E, we should do well to put 
F before D. Then the sorrows of Dorigen, which are 
exquisitely portrayed, would naturally lead the Wife " to 
speke of wo that is in mariage ;" and the Wife's discourse 
on " gentillesse," which she declares to be independent of 
birth or fortune, is better fitted by its more argumentative 
tone to follow than to precede the sermon of the Franklin, 
who clearly believes that *^ gentillesse " is not unconnected 
with birth and station,* but who assumes rather than as- 
serts this position. But let us turn to the sequence of 
Wife and Clerk, as to the nature of which I believe Pro- 
fessor Kittredge to be seriously in error. 

* Certain manuscripts give the Endlmk of the Merchant and the 
Headlink of the Squire as a continuous whole, and even designate it 
as the ** Squire's Prolog." There is no time-note in Group F except 
when the Squire remarks: 

I wol mat taryen yow, for it is pryme, 
and even from this I am unable to draw any inference. Certain other 
manuscripts place the Bquire'a Tale before Group D. 

*F, 692-694. 

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Between Wife and Clerk come the Tales of Friar and 
Snmmoner. ^ These rascals begin to quarrel just before the 
Wife begins her Tale. The Sununoner declares that be- 
fore the company reaches Sittingbourne he will tell a story 
or two at the expense of tiie Friar. When the Summoner 
has finished his Tale he has amply fulfilled his threat, and 
he announces that the Pilgrims have almost come to town. 
That Our Host, in introducing the Clerk, makes absolute- 
ly no reference or allusion either to Sittingbourne or to 
the Summoner is strong presumptive evidence that Chau- 
cer did not intend the Clerk's Tale immediately to follow 
the Summoner's. Let us remember that there were to 
have been upwards of a hundred and twenty Tales in all. 
Group D ends abruptly, and this is in itself no slight argu- 
ment that the ClerVs Tale was not intended to answer the 
Wife of Bath. 

Professor Kittredge treats the Wife's Prolog and Tale 
as a polemic on matrimony. It is easy to believe with 
him and Professor Lounsbury that in her heart she de- 
spises celibacy,** yet formally, at least, she is in accord 
with Saint Paul; and I find her far less bent on heresy 
and schism than on looking for a sixth husband. It would 
be an exaggeration to call her garrulous and frequently 
naive discourse a marriage advertizement. Yet it strong- 
ly partakes of that nature. She b^ns by arguing that 
there is no reason why she should not take a sixth husband. 
She states her terms and conditions ; she gives her history ; 
she quotes the testimony of five husbands as to the satisfac- 
tion she has given. She announces that she is ready for a 

'Kittredge, Chauoer and H%9 Poetry^ p. 186. Lounsbury, Studies 
«n Oha/wser, vol. n, p. 626 : " No one is imposed upon by her contempt 
tuous concession that marriage is inferior to virginity, or by her 
perfect willingness to admit the superiority of a state which she has 
not the slightest desire to share." 

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Bixth. The rough story of her bullying her husbands 
seems later to impress her as likely to frighten the game, 
and accordingly toward the end of her Prolog and all 
thru her Tale she assumes a more assuring tone. " Wo- 
vnen are as gentle as lambs, and a child can lead them 
if you only let them have their way." That is the moral 
of her Tale. Finally she gives us a long discourse on 
" gentillesse," a discourse which experience has perhaps 
taught her to be a good decoy when hunting for husbands.* 

This interpretation has at least the merit of covering, 
not too closely, the whole of her harang, both Prolog and 
Tale^ and giving to them a certain much needed unity. 
Her defence of matrimony is of surpassing interest. In the 
words of Professor Lounsbury " it embodies the protest of 
human nature " against monkish doctrine. But this is a 
mere detail of her talk. Her flings at clerks and the 
bitter things they have said about women are equally a 
detail, overwhelmed in the flood of her volubility. If her 
fifth husband was a clerk of Oxford, so too was the rascal- 
ly hero of the Miller's Tale. If Chaucer had intended 
his own Clerk of Oxford to be sensitive, this should have 
been made absolutely clear in one or both cases. 

It is not enough to say, with Professor Kittredge, that 
the Clerk's Tale " contains no personal allusions." Until 
we reach the casual reference to " the Wyves love of Bath " 
the Clerk's Tale is absolutely and demonstrably unco-ordi- 
nated with the Wife of Bath. On three points the Clerk 
is essentially in agreement with the Wife. He believes 

* In the lyrio poetry of the Ck>ntment, and eepecially in that of Por- 
tugal, a pilgrimage is frequently represented as a pretext for meeting 
one's lover. See Jeanroy, Let Origines de la PoSUe Lyrique en France 
au Moyen Age, ed. 1889, pp. 163 ff. The same custom doubtless ex- 
isted in England. But it is a trifle pedantic to appeal to literary 
parallels. Occasions supposedly religious are in actual life still 
made a pretext for love-making. 

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in marriage ; "^ he asserts that the character of the child is 
not determined by its parentage ; ® and he expressly de- 
clares that, whatever clerks may say to the contrary, wom- 
en surpass men in humility and in loyalty: 

Men speke of Job, and moost for his humblesse. 

As derkes, whan hem list, konne wel endite, • 

Namely of men, but as in soothfastnesse, 

Thogh clerkes preise wommen but a lite, 

Ther kan no man in humblesse hym acquite 

As wommen kan, ne kan been half so trewe 

As wommen been, but it be falle of newe.* 

If there were the slightest co-ordination, up to this point, 
between the Tales of Clerk and Wife, we should certain- 
ly have found here an allusion, or more than an allu- 
sion, to the Wife of Bath, whose want of " humblesse " I 
need only mention, and whose loyalty was not of such a 
nature as to prevent her from engaging a fifth husband 
before her fourth was dead. The grave and gentle irony 
of the words " but it be falle of newe " is inadequate to 
serve as an allusion. It serves rather to mark how utter- 
ly oblivious of the Wife of Bath are both Chaucer and the 
Clerk when this point is reached. 

But we may go further. It is not even Griselda's posi- f < 
tion as a wife that is intended to interest us. The moral 
of her story has nothing to do with matrimony. It may 
be a mere coincidence that the four Canterbury Tales 
which are written in rime royal are all of them religious, ^ 
but there can be no doubt that the sentiment of the Clerk's 
I^dle is profoundly so. Wte are even reminded that in the 
humble circumstances of her birth, Griselds resembled 
Christ himself: 

But hye €rod som tyme senden kan 
His Grace into a Utel oxe stalle.^ 

*E, 83-84. 'E, 156168. •£, 932-938. «E, 206-207. 

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On different occasions both Griselda and her father imi- 
tate or employ the language of Job.^^ In her own eyes, 
Griselda is always first and foremost, not a wife, but a 
serf.^^ And when Chaucer or the Clerk, whichever you 
will, has solemnly insinuated that the patience of Griselda 
surpassed that of Job himself, we are the more prepared 
for the explanation that her Tale is intended* to typify the 
submission of the true Christian to God. It is this re- 
ligious significance which commended the story to Petrarch 
— ^ and to some of his contemporaries, and which still renders 
it to some modern readers a beautiful and a touching 

Boccaccio, however, had ignored the religious and alle- 
gorical possibilities of the story. With downright com- 
mon sense he called the conduct of the Marquis " a piece 
of sheer stupidity,'* una matta bestialita; and Sercambi, 
who, despite his protestations, followed Boccaccio, called 
the nobleman "a fool," uno matto.^^ Chaucer, in his 
^^eart of hearts, was very clearly of the same opinion. Ac- 
cordingly the English poet wrote a little poem, sparkling 
awith brilliant and airy mockery, and bidding wives be as 
— xmlike Griselda as possible. Nowhere does this little 
poem mention the Wife of Bath, nor echo her language. 
It is difficult to believe that it was originally intended to 
caricature her. The problem was how to get it into the 
mouth of Chaucer's Clerk, a serious and edifying young 
man, who loved Aristotle more than " robes riche or fithele 
or gay sautrye; " and who, in response to a request for 

"E, 871-872; E, 902-903; see also E, 654-655. 

" I owe this penetrating suggestion to Professor E. T. McLaughlin 
of Yale University. 

He is now deed and nayled in his cheste, 
I prey to God so yeve his soule restel 

"See Raiier, NoveUe InedUe di Oiovanm Seroamhi, p. 401. 

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" flom mery thyng of aventures," had given the company 
a Tale that is anything but merry. It occurred to Chau- 
cer that the Clerk might explain that he wishes to ^^ stinte 
of emestful matere," and recite, " for the Wyves love of 
Bath," a poem which is thus made incidentally to carica- 
ture to some extent the lady of Bath while it mainly 
satirizes the story of Griselda. The real co-ordination be- 
tween the Tales of Wife and Clerk is thus reduced to the 
three verses: 

For which heere, for the Wyves love of Bathe, — 
Whoa lyf and al hire secte Qod maTnteyne 
In heigh maistrie, and ellee were it scathe. 

That this and the following Envoy are later additions to 
the original Tale is rendered a yet more probable conclu- 
sion by the fact that four of the best manuscripts, includ- 
ing the two very best of all, preserve at the end of the Erir 
voy what appears to have been the ending of the Tale 
before the Envoy was written.^* 

I find no evidence for Professor Kittredge's assertion 
that the Clerk was rigidly orthodox, or that he was espe- 
cially interested in celibacy. Theology is not mentioned 
as one of his studies. He exhibits not the slightest inter- 
est in ecclesiastical discipline. The extremely high re- 
spect which he expresses for women marks him as a man ^ 
of distinctly amiable virtues. Furthermore, he is a man 
of travel as well as of study. By Petrarch he has been 
treated with distinguished consideration, and obviously he 
shows an innocent vanity in introducing the company to 
his illustrious friend. To suppose that he finds " gall and 

^An excellent scholar, whom I am not authorized to name, calls 
my attention to the fact that in seven of Dr. Fumivall's reprints 
the rubric is Lenvoye de Chawier. Ms. Dd. 4.24 omits the rubric 
but gives the word Auctor in the margin. It is Chaucer and not 
the Clerk of Oxford whose voice we recognize in the Envoy, 

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wormwood '^ in the words of the Wife of Bath^ and after 
long dissembling, attacks her with "smiling urbanity" 
and " in mordant irony " is to suppose things hardly con- 
^ sistent one with another, to miss the airy lightness of the 
Envoy — ^which is perfectly good-humored — and gratuitous- 
ly to d^rade the Clerk. 

But the Envoy is undoubtedly made the means of in- 
troducing the Merchant's Tale. The Merchant has no 
feeling for the religious significance of the Clerk's Tale. 
Like the Envoy, he thinks of the story of Griselda only as 
^ story of married life, and he has little faith in women 
who seem meek and patient like Griselda. In a sense, 
therefore, he takes issue with the Clerk, and to this extent 
Group E gives us a debate. But by no means does it 
follow that the Wife of Bath holds "the centre of the 
stage,'* or even that she is " in the for^round." Rather 
does all literary perspective disappear. 

For in spite of brilliant details, the Merchant's Tale 
is very inartistically told. It is nearly as much out of 
character for the Merchant as the Clerk's Envoy is for the 
Clerk. For tho the Merchant, in his Headlink, begins 
with words of great bitterness about women, the misogyny 
of his Tale itself is not consistently maintained. The 
tyrannous jealousy of January, the husband, is depicted 
in terms that transfer a large share of our sympathy to 

\May, the young wife, whose error, we are naively assured, 
^s only that she took compassion on a handsome yoimg 
man who was languishing for love of her. A long eulogy 
of matrimony loses not a little of its intended effect of 
^ irony because the irony is long sustained without being 
obvious. A passage repeating the language and ideas of 
the Wife of Bath leads us to expect that May, the wife, 
is going to play the bully, whereas she skillfully main- 
tains, everywhere, the outward appearance of a submissive 

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and a devoted wife. The reference to the Wife of Bath 
is 80 introduced that there is serious doubt who is speaking 
in propria persona, Chaucer, The Merchant, or Justinus 
the friend of January. It is made ahnost the most strikA 
ing lapse from dramatic propriety in the entire Camter- \ 
bury Tales. It is introduced indolently and pedantically, ^ 
as if to save time and labor, rather than to co-ordinate the 
Tale with the Wife of Bath. And to whatever degree the 
Merchant repeats ideas from the Wife's Prolog he does 
not take issue with her. So far from keeping the Wife 
of Bath " in the for^round," or in " the centre of the 
stage," the Merchant's Tale serves rather to show that, for 
the moment, there is neither foreground nor center to 
hold. Literary perspective, in fact, disappears. 

The Franklin's Tale is very beautifully co-ordinated 
with the Squire's. The story of the " f aucoun peregrine " 
is expressive of great sensibility and compassion, far more 
so than the Wife's discourse on " gentillesse," which is dis- 
tinctly argumentative. Not only does the Squire actually 
use the words gentU, gentillesse, some nine or ten times,^** 
but he is telling a tale of courtly love and tender sensi- 
bility. Surely there is every reason to suppose that the 
Franklin is entirely candid when he appears to take his 
cue from the Squire, even for his introductory discourse 
on "gentillesse." For in fact, the Franklins Tale is 
barely if at all co-ordinated with anything that precedes 
the Squire's. The mere mention of sovereignty and serv- 
ice hardly reminds us of the Wife of Bath; neither does 
the mention of the praise which clerks have given to pa- 
tience inevitably recall the Clerk of Oxford. And there 
is absolutely nothing that has as yet been tortured into a 
reference or allusion by the Franklin to the Merchant. 

"Namely in w. F, 426, 462, 479, 483, 506, 517, 646, 620, and 622. 

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On the other hand the Franklin is in a number of ways 
coordinated with the Squire, and if some of these are 
subtle or even fortuitous, others are deliberate and unmis- 
takable, and the import of the whole is not open to a 
doubt Whichever of the four chief (Characters of the 
Franklin's Tale may appear to us the most generous, there 
— Ts no doubt that Aurelius and Dorigen are the most 
prominent. And Aurelius, as Professor Kittredge ingen- 
iously points out, is a young squire with just such graces 
and accomplishments as Chaucer's pilgrim Squire pos- 
sesses, and as the Franklin wishes his own son to acquire. 
The story of Aurelius is now used as a compliment to the 
pilgrim Squire, and indirectly to his father, the pilgrim 
Knight. On previous occasions we may believe, if we will, 
that Aurelius has been held up as an example to the 
Franklin's graceless son. Hence the heart-felt eloquence 
of the beautiful little discourse on mutual subjection and 

ifsTor does this exhaust the exquisite adjustment of the 
Franklin's Tale alike to the character of the teller and to 
the situation. Whether by accident, by instinct, or by de- 
sign, the Franklin chooses the very happiest moment and 
method to introduce himself to the attention of his social 
superiors. I find it difficult to believe that he is at the 
same time thinking of the Wife of Bath. 

The Franklin confesses with r^ret that he has never 
studied Marcus TuUius Cicero, a name whose luster Pe- 
trarch had recently renewed. But Chaucer seems at least 
to have heard of Cicero's treatise on " gentillesse," the 
De Amicitia, though he may have confused it with the 
De Beneficiis of Seneca when he bade Scogan " thenke on 
Tullius Kyndenesse." If we may take the beautiful dis- 
course on mutual forbearance and subjection as an at- 

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tempt on the part of Chaucer or the Franklin to give us a 
medieval De Amicitia, the Franklin's reference to Cicero 
is explained. And, indeed, I know of no reason why we 
should not so understand the Franklin's sermon, even tho 
the Franklin emphasizes Christian and medieval virtues, 
and includes and even emphasizes marriage as a form of 

Certainly it is a mistake to regard the Franklin's ser- ^ 
mon as primarily concerned with matrimony. There is 
a long passage of twenty-six lines ^* in which women, love, 
and friendship are mentioned, but never marriage. Dori^ 
gen and Aurelius are unmarried one to another. The 
Franklin is obviously interested in the Squire, in his own 
son and in " gentillesse." He does not mention his own J 
wife, nor does he evince any pre-occupation with matri- ''^ 
mony. And certainly he cannot be said to bring a debate 
on matrimony to a "triumphant conclusion" so long as 
his Tale is followed in any degree of proximity by Uie 
Second Nurffs Tale of the unconsummated marriage q| " 
Saint Cecilia, which might easily be drawn into the de- 
bate by just such processes of reasoning as those by which 
the debate itself has been constructed. 

It is not the least defect of Professor Kittredge's in- 
terpretation of Groups D, E, and F that he makes the 
Clerk and the Franklin surprize the reader by entering 
the debate quite as truly — or as hypothetically — as they 
surprize the Canterbury Pilgrims. An author or a play- 
wright may surprize his characters as much as he pleases, 
but the moment he begins to surprize the reader or the 
spectator he begins to destroy the literary or dramatic illu- 
sion which it is his business to create. But this subject 
has been so competently treated by such writers as Messrs. 

"F, 761-786. 

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William Archer and Brander Matthews ^''^ that I gladly 
excuse myself from discussing it further, and I summarize 
my conclusions as follows: 

The debate on, or discussion of, matrimony, amounts to 
this: Both Wife and Merchant discuss matrimony, delib- 
erately, formally, and fully, but without taking issue one 
with another ; and the Merchant takes issue with the Clerk, 
not so much as to matrimony as concerning the sincerity 
and virtue of women. The Merchant also incorporates 
— in his Tale two debates, one on matrimony, the other as to 
the worth of women. 

On the other hand the Wife's Prolog and Tale find their 
most imifying theme neither in heresy, in schism, nor even 
in polemic, but in the Wife's practical search for a sixth 
husband. The Clerk is interested in matrimony merely 
because it typifies the Christian life. His Tale is de- 
monstrably unco-ordinated with the Wife's talk until we 
reach a casual allusion to the Wife at the very end. The 
^.Clerk's Envoy was originally written to satirize the story 
of Griselda, and not to caricature the Wife of Bath. It 

"V^illiam Archer, Play-Making, a Manual of Craftsmanship, pp. 
201-234; Brander Matthews, A Study of the Drama, 

I will add that Chaucer recognizee the principle, and makes ex- 
quisite use of it in the Knighfs Tale, hy adding to Boccaccio's story 
an appeal twice made hy Venus to her " father " Saturn, who twice 
assures her that ultimately she shall have her way. We are thus 
prepared for diyine intervention, and the sudden miracle by which 
Arcite is mortally wounded in the very hour of victory makes no dis- 
cord in our imaginations. 

A friend who has read my proofs contributes the following sug- 
gestion: "Apropos of surprize you might refer to Kittredge {8hak- 
spere, Oambr., 1916, p. 19): 'In his exposition fihakspere always 
follows the established Elizabethan method, which was, to make every 
significant point as clear as daylight, and to omit nothing that the 
writer regarded as of importance. However much the dramatis 
personae mystify each other, the audience is never to be perplexed: 
it is invariably in the secret.*" 

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is not in character for the Clerk. The Merchant's Tale 
is out of character for the teller, and mentions the Wife 
of Bath in such a way as to destroy literary perspective 
rather than to place the Wife in a foreground or cen- 
ter. The position of Group F with reference to D and 
E is uncertain. If it had to be related to D — ^which it 
does not — ^we should do well to place F before D rather 
than after E. The Franklin evinces no interest in any 
individual pilgrims except Our Host, the Squire, and 
possibly by implication the Kjiight. He discusses mar- 
riage only as a form of friendship. His Tale cannot 
said to terminate any discussion of marriage so long as it 
is followed in any degree of proximity by the Second 
Nun's Tale. In fact, Groups D, E, and F, taken in their 
entirety, are far from constituting a " complete and highly 
finished " " act " in " Chaucer's Human Comedy." 

Henby Babbett Hinckley. 

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The proposal of Dr. P. W. Long to connect Lady Carey 
with the Amoretti of Spenser/ interesting as it is, has 
perhaps not met with universal acceptance. It seems to 
rest on too slender a thread of evidence for overthrow of 
the traditional and more natural explanation of the son- 
nets as belonging to Spenser's own courtship. Without 
debating that question, however, so far as Dr. Long's sug- 
gestion rests upon a public promise of Spenser to " dis- 
play " " in ampler wise " his " good will " to Lady Carey,^ 
I propose another explanation of how that promise was 
fulfilled. In addition I shall attempt a somewhat fuller 
examination than has hitherto been made of Spenser's 
volume called Complaints. 

The first three books of the Faerie Queene were regis- 
tered vnth the Stationers' Company Dec. 1, 1589, though 
the explanatory letter to Raleigh, printed at the end of the 
volume, was not written until Jan, 23, 1590. The book 
appeared sometime after March 25 of the latter year, since 
the date 1590 on the title-page indicates a time after the 
begiiming of the new year in the Elizabethan age. Now 
the very next work of Spenser to be printed, and doubtless 
the earliest to which he set his hand after the Faerie 
Queene was issued, was one dedicated to Lady Carey, the 
graceful MuiopotmoSj or Fate of the Butterflie. This 
we know, because the Muiopotmos was included in the 
Complaints volume, entered for publication Dec. 29, 1590, 

* Mod. Lang. Rev,, m, p. 257. 

*To Lady Carew (Carey), one of the dedicatory sonnets to the 
Faerie Queene (1590). 


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and becaiise the poem was actually printed in that year, 
that is before March. 25, 1591, as shown by the separate 
title-page. The time of composing the Muiopotmos is 
even more restricted if the latest interpretation be ac- 
cepted, that recently proposed by Miss Jessie M. Lyons 
with ^ much semblance of reason.' The reference of the 
poem to the Raleigh-Essex rivalry at court places its com- 
position between Jan. 23, 1590, when Spenser finished his 
explanatory letter to Raleigh, or perhaps the time when 
he had finished seeing the first part of the Faerie Queene 
through the press, and the exposure of Essex's marriage, 
with the consequent anger of the queen, that is in the sum- 
mer of that year.* The final appearance of the Muiopot- 
mos at the end of the volume of Complaints will be dis- 
cussed later. Let me here note another relation of part 
of the Comphdnts volume to Spenser's promise and its 

It has been generally assumed that the words ^^ these 
fewe leaves " in Spenser's dedicatory letter to Lady Carey 

*Puhlieation8 of the Mod. Lang. Asa*n, xxxi, p. 90. Miss Lyons 
might have strengthened her case for the date by the relation of the 
Muiopotmos to the dedicatory sonnet to Lady Carey accompanying 
the Fcterie Queene. I trust also that this paper will show added 
reasons for considering the date 1590 on the MuiopotmoB title-page 
to be correct. 

^The exact date of Essex's marriage to the widow of Sir Philip 
Sidney must be inferred from the birth of their first child, Robert, 
who was christened Jan. 22, 1591. The exposure of the marriage 
by the pregnancy of the Countess Essex may well have been in the 
summer of 1590, for we are told that by the middle of October she 
was publicly waited on as the new countess. By Nov. 24 Essex was 
again in " very good favor." — LiveB of the EarU of EBsew, by W. B. 
Devereux, i, pp. 210-12. 

The secrecy of the marriage is attested by Watson's dedication of 
the English Eglogue upon the Death of Walaingham to Lady Frances 
Sidney, although it could scarcely have appeared ^ before she had 
become the Countess of 

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apply to the Muiopotmos alone. Yet Spenser can be shown 
to have had a larger purpose in arranging with that poem 
the three Visions, as he called them, which complete the 
Complaints. Indeed, it may be fully established that 
he linked the four poems together, and related them all 
to Lady Carey. I suggest that this was ample fulfilment 
of his public promise in the Faerie Queene sonnet. 

The three Visions following the Muiopotmos are the 
translations of Bellay and Marot, together with an origi- 
nal series by Spenser himself. The first two are revised 
but still early versions of what is believed to be the first 
printed work of Spenser, the translations for Van der 
Noodt's Theatre for Worldings. The third is also re- 
garded as early work, but was probably composed some- 
what later than the first two. Perhaps it is Spenser's 
substitute for the four soimets by Van der Noodt himself, 
which the young poet had also translated from the French 
for the Theatre. This third poem, the Visions of the 
Worlds Vanitie, was placed immediately after the Muiopot- 
mos in the Complaints, and given a direct reference to 
Lady Carey in the last lines of the first sonnet. Speaking 
of the visions he says: 

Such as they were (faire Ladie) take in worth. 
That when time serves, may bring things better forth.' 

This may possibly be a modification of another ending in 
an earlier form, since the last sonnet of the series closes 
with a more general application : 

'That these lines may suggest a further purpose to honor Lady 
Carey, as Dr. Long thinks (see his article above cited), is no reason 
for believing the Muiopotmos and the following Visions are not a 
fulfilment of the promise in the dedicatory sonnet of the Faerie 
Queene. Besides, as Mr. J. C. Smith points out {Mod. La/ng. Rev., 
V, p. 276), the same promise of "other more worthie labour" was 
made to Lady Compton and Monteagle, — a promise never fulfilled so 
far as we know, — and something like it to Lady Strange. 

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And ye, that read these mines tragical!, 
Leame by their losse to love the low degree; 

For he that of himselfe is most secure, 
Shall finde his state most fickle and unsure. 

But there is more significant evidence of Spenser's in- 
tention to link the following Visions with the Mviopotmos, 
and relate the whole to Lady Carey. In the original form 
of the English Theatre these translations are found in the 
order Visions of Petrarch called Epigrams, Visions of Bel- 
lay called Sonets, and the four Visuyns of Van der Noodt 
himself. In the Complaints Spenser's Visions of the 
Worlds Vanitie precede, displacing Van der Noodt's poems 
entirely, and are followed by the Visions of Bellay and 
Visions of Petrarch. Marofs envoy to the latter, which 
Spenser had formerly translated word for word, would 
naturally have concluded the series. Yet not only did 
Spenser rearrange the several pieces, but he made the 
greatest change in this envoy, by displacing Marot's lines 
with an entirely new soimet of his own. Moreover, this 
new envoy is equally appropriate to both the Muiopotmos 
and the three Visions, while it is also directed to the same 
" f aire Ladie," who can be no other than Lady Carey her- 
self. In other words this is Spenser's own envoy to the 
series of four poems which dose the Complaints, and binds 
them together with direct reference to her to whom the 
first is specifically dedicated. 

The relationship of this last sonnet in the Petrarch 
Visions has been curiously obscured by editors and critics. 
In the first Quarto it is not numbered at all, and is thus 
set off by itself, as it should be always, in spite of the Folio 
number 7 which seems to make it a part of the preceding 
series. Unfortunately most editors have followed the 
Folio, not the Quarto reading. Critics, too, have been 

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themBelves misled or have farther misled their read^^ 
ThuB Sidney Lee, writing of Spen8er''8 second form of the 
Visions of Petrarch, said: 

Hie expwuioii ... of the four lines of the Freodi enroj into 
fourteen lines, &uls in any material req>ect to diffarentimte tlie 
Knglirfi and French rendmngs of Petrardi's ode.* 

In his edition of Sp^iser, Dodge is equally at fault when 
he says (p. 125) of the revised form of the Visions: 

The objeet ci the youthful poet . . . was apparently not to better 
his translation, but, for merely artistie ^eet, to torn the irregular 
ff*f»^«« of the Petrarch group and the blank T&9e poems of the Bel- 
lay group into formal sooneis.* 

Dodge does not even mention what is certainly noteworthy, 
that two of the Petrardi Visions were already English 
(or Surrey) sonnets, and thus so far as we know the earli* 
est sonnets of any form which Spenser wrote. Again, De 
Selincourt underrates the importance of Spenser's envoy 
by merely saying: 

In place of the quatrain which in 15((9 closed the series he now 
added a sonnet of his own rhyme scheme (abab bcbc cdcd ee).* 

The position of this last sonnet in relation to the pre- 
ceding series will be best understood from some description 

* Elizabethan SonneU, i, p. xxxtL Sir Sidn^ was no more exact 
in reference to Spenser's VisionM of BeUay on the foregoing page. 
He there speaks of "fifteen of the Frenchman's sonnets . . . ren- 
dered by Spenser while a schoolboy," instead of eleven, later in- 
creased to fifteen by four new translations when the TitUms were 

* Compare also p. 764 of Dodge's Spenser for a similar statement. 

* Spenser's Poetical Works, Introd., p. Xxxi. Nor does De Selin- 
court recognize the two English sonnets among the Visions of Pe- 
trarch, but says of Spenser's revised version: ** The latter needed less 
manipulation [as compared with the blank verse Visions of Bellayl, 
for he had rhymed them in the earlier version." May I add that 
it is also strangely inept to introduce the anachronism ** sonnets of 
Shakespearian form " in writing of Spenser's early work. 

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of the first Quarto. That booklet consists of twenty-three 
sheets folded into ninety-two pages, with signatures run- 
ning through an Elizabethan alphabet. That is, no J is 
used and V does duty for TJ, V, and W. The Ruines of 
Time, with the preliminary matter, fills the sheets having 
the signatures ABCD, sixteen (unnumbered) pages. The 
next twenty-four pages, signatures EFGHIK, include the 
Teares of the Muses and Virgiis Gnat with title-page and 
dedication. Then come, with their title-pages and dedica- 
tions, the Prosopopoia and Ruines of Rome, filling signa- 
tures LMNOPQRS, thirty-two pages, and the longest part. 
The Muiopotmos and the three Visions occupy signatures 
TVXYZ, twenty pages. Thus each of these four parts 
fills a multiple of four pages, while each also has its sepa- 
rate title-page and dedication, so that each is to all intents 
a separate booklet. 

To bring about this result some accommodation in pag- 
ing was clearly made. The Contents of the whole book 
was printed on the reverse of the principal title-page, while 
the reverse of every other title-page is blank. The dedica- 
tory letter to Lady Strange is crowded upon one page, 
Spenser's signature being placed in very small type, and 
the next poem b^ns on the following (left-hand) page, 
the only poem so arranged. To bring the third part into 
thirty-two pages the Ruines of Rome sonnets are much 
crowded together. Most of the pages have two sonnets 
and part of another, sometimes only a single line, while 
aU the other sonnets of the volume are arranged two to 
the page. On the other hand, the fourth part is somewhat 
spread out in order to fill the last twenty pages. In ad- 
dition to the blank reverse of the title-page, a blank (left- 
hand) page occurs after the Muiopotmos, and the last two 
pages are entirely blank. The Visions are printed two 
sonnets to a page, except the fifteenth of the Visions of 

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Bellay and the last one in the book, each of which oc- 
cupies a page by itself. 

There is here almost immistakable evidence that the 
Complaints is made up of four booklets, each of which 
might have been issued separately without disturbing the 
arrangement of a single page. The last part, containing 
the Muiopotmos and attendant Visions, was certainly so 
issued if the date 1590 on the title-page is to be trusted. 
This seems the more certain because, if the book had 
been printed as one from the beginning, there would surely 
have been no crowding in parts two and three when there 
were three extra pages in part four which might have been 
used. An exact parallel to such separate publication of the 
four booklets is the Daphnaida, also printed in 1591. 
That poem fills just six sheets, twenty-four pages, with the 
reverse of the title-page and the last page blank. In other 
words, the Daphnaida is a booklet exactly equal in size to 
the second in the Complaints voluma® 

To return to the argument of this paper. The position 
of the last sonnet in the Complaints volume is clear indi- 
cation that it was not a part of the Petrarch sonnet series. 
It occurs alone under the heading of the last printed page, 

'In some partieulars the Harvard Library copy, which I have 
used, differs from any examined by De S6lincourt {Minor Poems of 
Spenser, Introd.)- It usually agrees with the Huth Quarto where 
that differs from the Bodleian Library copy, which De S6lincourt 
made the basis of his text. It disagrees with the Huth Quarto and 
agrees with the Bodleian in reading 'crime,' not 'raine' {Teares of 
the Muses, 435). It differs from both in reading 'Viminal' (Ruines 
of Rome, 56), not 'Vimnial' with the Bodleian Quarto, or 'Vimi- 
nail' with the Huth Quarto; and in 'attempted.* {Muioptomos, 
346), not 'attempted,' with the Bodleian, or 'attempted' with the 
Huth Quarto. These different readings in different copies of the 
Quarto of course show that there were different impressions of the 
whole or parts of the Complaints, and add force to the suggestion 
that the four booklets may have appeared separately. 

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with no number before it in the Quarto, as abeady men- 
tioned. The break from one page to another made un- 
necessary such space as would probably have preceded 
this envoy, if it had stood on a page with another sonnet; 
or such paragraph marks as Spenser used in a similar case 
when he set off the two stanzas following the first vision 
in the Buines of Time (lines 589-602). Why Spenser 
did not call it "L'envoy", as in the case of those at the end 
of the Buines of Time and Buines of Borne, we do not 
know. Perhaps it was just because this last sonnet is not 
an envoy to the poem immediately preceding, but rather 
belongs to the whole series of four poems. In any case 
it should not be numbered with the Petrarch Visions, or 
be so placed as to be confused with that piece. 

Further evidence that Spenser's envoy is not a part of 
the Petrarch Visions is found in both its form and content 
As already noted it is not an English sonnet, the form 
Spenser had first learned to use. That form he had also 
continued to use in the revised Visions of Bellay and Vi- 
sions of Petrarch, as well as in the Buines of Borne based 
on Bellay. Then Spenser developed his distinctive sonnet 
form (abab bcbc cdcd ee), which he commonly employed 
thereafter. ^^ The latter is the form in the Visions of the 
Worlds Vanitie, in the dedicatory sonnet to Virgils Onat, 

^ He used the English form twice, possibly three times, afterwards. 
The eighth sonnet pf the Amoretti is in that from, and the twentieth 
might be claimed for it, though it is possibly a Spenserian sonnet 
with imperfect rimes. Spenser's commendatory sonnet Upon the 
Hiatarie of George Oaatriot is also of the English form. Hie envoy 
at the end of the Ruinea of Rome is partly an English sonnet, partly 
a Spenserian, the scheme being abab cdcd dede ff. Can this be the 
intermediate experiment which led Spenser from the Surrey type to 
his own distinctive rime scheme? Hie chronology of Spenser's poems 
would seem to justify this conjecture. 

I do not here take account of the sonnet Dr. Long thinks he has 
discovered in Oolm Clout, 466-479. 

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both regarded as early work, in the dedicatory sonnets to 
the Faerie Qiieene, and in the Am^oretti, with the exception 
already mentioned. Between the writing of the last two 
works, that is in 1590, Spenser must have composed this 
envoy to the four poems which conclude the Complaints. 
It is a distinctly late sonnet and unrelated in form to the 
poem with which it is placed. 

The content shows even more conclusively that this new 
sonnet was a true envoy to the four poems preceding. The 
Marot envoy of the translation from Petrarch asks his 
" song " to say to his patron that the " six visions " contain 
a " sweete request," which it is to " yelde," 

Ere it be long within the earth to rest. 

Now Marofs envoy could scarcely be more radically 
changed than it has been by Spenser. The emphasis upon 

this tickle trusties stat* 
Of vaine worlds glorie, 

is peculiarly characteristic of Spenaer, and peculiarly ap- 
propriate to the Mmopotmos and following Visions. To 
the first it is even more concretely applicable in relation 
to the Ealeigh-Essex rivalry at court, the last and best in- 
terpretation of the allegory, it seems to me. The first qua- 
train thus sums up the vaniias vanitatum which is the 
persistent note of all the poems. If it be said that it is 
the dominant note of some others of the Complaints, it 
may be answered that it is not the note in the same d^ree 
of any other series of four pieces. 

The second quatrain, with its intense feeling in 

I wish I might this wearie life forgoe, 

aptly fits this period in Spenser's career. At the sugges- 
tion of Ealeigh he had returned to England, with high 
hopes of some recognition at court that he might settle 

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down to complete, in congenial surroundings, his great 
poem. The disappointment that had attended his depart 
ture for Ireland in 1580, voiced with such strong emotion 
in the dedicatory sonnet to YirgUs Onat, was temporarily 
forgotten. Yet a new and keener disappointment was to 
be his even in the moment of his apparent success. He 
was to wait more than a year for some tangible recognition 
of his great genius, since the parsimony or partisanship of 
Burghley delayed his patent for a pension imtil Febru- 
ary, 1591." 

Finally the sestet of the sonnet envoy is as clearly devot- 
ed in its entirety to her who had so recently become his 
engaging patroness, to whom he had dedicated the Muio- 
potmoSy and with whom he had linked the Visions of the 
Worlds Vanitie by the close of the first sonnet in that poem. 
Thus only one of the four poems does not contain a dis- 
tinct reference to Lady Carey, while the last reference to 
her in Spenser's last sonnet, as can scarcely be doubted, 
is the envoy to the new booklet he had completed in her 
honor. The conclusion seems inevitable that these last 
four poems of Spenser's Complaints, bound together as 
they are by dedication and envoy to Lady Carey, formed 
no unworthy fulfilment of Spenser's promise to exalt her 
name, as made in the dedicatory sonnet to the Faerie 
Queene. If this be so, it is wholly unnecessary to assume, 
as Dr. Long has done in his argument for Lady Carey as 
the lady of the Amoretti, that the latter must be the real 
completion of Spenser's purpose. 

But it may be asked why, if such honor was intended 

"With the sentiment expressed in this second quatrain compare 
Spenser's autobiographic allusions in JRuinea of Time, 446-8, also a 
clear reference to Burghley's unappreciativeness, and the more spe- 
cific complaint of himself in Daphnaida, 33-36, both passages written 
in this year of waiting. 

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for Lady Carey, the booklet did not appear at the begin- 
ning of the Complaints volume ? The point is somewhat 
complicated by the uncertainly as to Spenser's part in ar- 
ranging that volume, and by the statement of the publisher 
Ponsonby that he had collected some of the pieces. The 
latter's reference to the matter will be considered in a 
later paragraph. Here it will be fair to assume that 
Spenser probably would have issued the Lady Carey por- 
tion of the Complaints first — ^perhaps prepared so to issue 
it independently as shown by the date 1590 on the title- 
page — and then attempt to account for its final appear- 
ance at the last of the volume. 

We can only conjecture how the idea of the Complaints 
developed in Spenser's mind. Yet the success of the 
Faerie Queene may reasonably have suggested a new vol- 
ume made up of poems of earlier composition. To print 
such a volume would have been doing what many a writer 
has since done. In such a book the new Muiopotmos and 
the three Visions would naturally have found a first place, 
if the former had not yet been published. Such an ar- 
rangement might later have been altered for one or more 
of several reasons. For example the Muiopotmos would 
have been appropriate to the Raleigh-Essex rivalry only be- 
fore Essex had lost the favor of Elizabeth, that is before 
the summer of 1590. For as soon as Essex had lost and 
Raleigh had regained the queen's favor, the Lady Carey 
portion of the Complaints would have lost its appropriate- 
ness, either as an independent issue or as the first part 
of a new volume. ^^ 

" The subject of the MuiopotmoB may have been in Spenser's mind 
even before 1590. One of the first topics of conversation between 
Spenser and Raleigh in Ireland must have been the Essex rivalry 
and Raleigh's virtual exclusion from the court circle. Even then 
it is not likely the poem was composed before Spenser's visit to 

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Still another and perhaps more cogent reason may ac- 
count for the place of the Lady Carey portion of the Com- 
pladnts. Scarcely had Spenser prepared his series of 
poems in Lady Carey's honor before another urgent claim 
was made upon him, owing to an unforeseen circum- 
stance. He was importuned to honor another of his 
friends, and one more important because a national figure. 
In 1590 the publication of an imauthorized edition of 
Sidney's Arcadia revived the memory of one always dear 
to Englishmen as the finest example of their best manhood. 
The new interest in Sir Philip Sidney was doubtless the 
reason why Spenser's friends upbraided him — ^to use his 
own words — ^f or not having " shewed anie thankefull re- 
membrance towards him or any of them," ^' that is the 
Dudley family, to which his patron Leicester had also be- 
longed. " Whome chiefly to satisfie," he continues, " or 
els to avoide that fowle blot of unthankefulnesse, I have 
conceived this small poem," the Worlds Ruines as he called 
it, or the Ruines of Time as it is now named.^* This new 
occasion, then, may have been the deciding reason for 
placing the Ruines of Time first among the Complaints 
and putting the Muiopotmos and the Visions in another 

"Dedicatory letter to Bwnes of Time. 

'^It must be remembered that in the opening lines to Aeirophel 
Spenser had given a reason for not printing that poem in honor of 
Sidney. It was designed, he tells us, " not to please the living but 
the dead/' and intended only for those '' shepheards " who mourned 
with him the loss of a friend. Nor did he actually print the poem 
until two of the elegies had been published or entered for publication. 
Besides, he was now including Sidney in the larger plan of praising 
all the deceased members of the Dudley house. 

"Before the end of 1590 Spenser felt called upon for another 
commemorative poem, the third new one of the year. On August 13, 
1590, the wife of his friend Arthur Gorges had died, and for her 
Spenser composed his DaphnaXda. It was dedicated on what most 

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On the other hand, if Spenser was not responsible for 
the final arrangement of the Complaints volume, Ponson- 
by would have been equally influenced by the Sidney re- 
vival, especially as he had himself printed the Arcadicu 
Besides, another circumstance had added still further to 
Sidney's fame, and may have influenced Ponsonby. With- 
out doubt because Sidney's name had been revived by 
the Arcadia, three editions of Sidney's Astrophel and 
Stella quickly followed in 1591, the year of Spenser's Com- 
plaints. No one of these three editions was entered in 
the Stationers' Register, but it is not unreasonable to be- 
lieve the first of them appeared early in the year, and not 
unlikely before the Complaints. This new-blown trumpet 
in Sidney's honor would then have been an added reason 
why Ponsonby himself may have placed the Ruines of 
Time first in the new Spenser volume. In either case, 
therefore, whether Spenser or Ponsonby finally arranged 
the volume, there seems ample reason for the first piece of 
the book, and for the consequent displacement of the Lady 
Carey portion. 

As was noted above, there is an apparent conflict be- 
tween the idea that Spenser himself arranged the Com- 
plaints and the statement of Ponsonby the publisher in his 
advertisement " To the Gentle Reader." Is it possible 
to smooth out this apparent inconsistency? The known 
facts regarding the Complaints volume may be briefly 

critics believe to have been Jan. 1, 1591, though such a dating in 
Spenser's time would ordinarily have meant Jan. 1, 1592, nearly a 
year after he left England. Perhaps the date at the end of the 
letter of dedication is a mere printer's error for 1590, the figures 
'naught' and 'one' often looking alike in handwriting. Why Pon- 
sonby, who printed the poem separately in 1591, did not gather it 
into the Oomplainta volume we do not know. Perhaps he had not 
found it in time, or some arrangement may have been made for its 
independent issue. 

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given. It was entered with the Stationers' Company De- 
cember 29, 1590, while Spenser was probably still in 
England. This " probably " could be made " certainly " 
if we were sure that Spenser's dating of the Daphnatda 
dedication meant January 1, 1591, New Style. In any 
case Spenser would probably have remained in London im- 
til the patent for his pension was issued in February, 1591. 
Thus he would probably have been responsible for such 
of the Complaints as Ponsonby entered in December, 

Here I can but suggest that the volume first proposed 
by Spenser may have included only the last four poems. 
Even Ponsonby's entry in the Stationers' Register reads : 
"A booke entytuled Complaintes conteyninge sondrye 
small Poemes of the worlds vanity." This would admir- 
ably apply to the Muiopotmus and three Visions, while the 
last expression could not as well apply to the longer poems 
of the Complaints, especially Virgils Onat, Prosopopoia, 
or the Teares of the Muses. On the other hand, if the vol- 
ume at first included only the last four poems, that would 
be another reason for the date 1590 on the one title-page, 
while the three others bear the date 1591, when Spenser 
was presumably back in Ireland. Or Spenser may have 
originally intended to honor the three ladies of the Spencer 
of Althorpe family, who had now claimed him as a rela- 
tive, and assisted him to some extent, as shown by the dedi- 
catory letters to the Teares of the Muses and Mother 
Hvhherds Tale. In that case the Muiopotmos and its ac- 
companying poems would probably have appeared first, 
followed by those addressed to Lady Strange and Lady 
Compton and Monteagle. Either of these arrangements 
of the poems may have been disturbed by the changed rela- 
tions of Essex and Ealeigh, or by the new interest in Sid- 

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Whatever Spenser's own plan, Ponsonby's statement in 
" The Printer to the Gentle Eeader " must be considered. 
It reads: 

I have Bithence endevoured bj all good meanes (for the bett^ en- 
crease and accomplishment of your delights) to get into my handes 
such smale poemes of the same authors; as I heard were disperst 
abroad in sundrie hands, and not easie to bee come by, by himself e; 
some of them having bene diyerslie imbeziled and purloyned from 
him, since his departure over sea.* 

Now, remembering that the Complaints volume, or most 
of it, was not printed imtil Spenser had left England, we 
may still accept Ponsonby's statement. Spenser had cer- 
tainly arranged the last four poems. He had dedicated 
the Teares of the Muses and Mother Rubherds Tale to 
Lady Strange and Lady Compton. He had written and 
dedicated the Ruines of Time. On the other hand, the 
gathering of all these for issuance in book form may have 
been done by the publisher. Or if all these had been put 
in Ponsonby's hands by Spenser himself, the former would 
still have been responsible for obtaining the Ruines of 
Rome and Yirgils Gnat. Thus Ponsonby may have se- 
cured from two to four or possibly five of the Complaints, 
and, as noted in his advertisement, was still looking for 
other poems, which he proposed to the reader to publish 
" for your favour sake." In any case the statement of Pon- 
sonby need not be explained away or distrusted, as has 
sometimes been done. Nor is it at variance with Spenser's 
being in London when the Complaints was entered for 
publication, although he had left England before any but 
the last four poems, those written or arranged for Lady 
Carey, had been printed. 

* The meaning, not quite clearly expressed, must be " not easy to 
be obtained from him, partly because he had lost some of them while 
in England, partly because of his departure over sea." 

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Before leaving Spenser's volume some accotmt should 
be taken of the curious suggestion in the Dictionary of 
National Biography (article Elizabeth Carey), that " some 
of the renderings of Petrarch [that is, in the Petrarch 
Visions^ . . . may be from Lady Carey's pen." The 
conjecture rests upon a sentence in Nash's dedicatory let- 
ter, prefixed to Terrors of the Night and addressed to 
Elizabeth, daughter of Sp^iser's Lady Carey. Of the 
latter Nash says: "Into the Muses society her selfe she 
hath lately adopted, and purchast divine Petrarch another 
monument in England." Yet Nash's words scarcely war- 
rant the interpretation put upon them above, or at least 
may be explained in a simpler fashion. They need mean 
no more than rather extravagant flattery, based on Spen- 
ser's dedication of the Muiopotmos to Lady Carey and his 
combining with it the Visions of Petrarch, " another mon- 
ument in England." Nash's Terrors of the Night was 
printed in 1594, and surely " lately " was accurate enough 
for a book printed three years before. Besides, there is 
here some support for one of the contentions of this paper. 
With the Quarto edition of Spenser's Complaints before 
him — and he could have had no other — Nash must have 
recognized the reference to Lady Carey in the sonnet fol- 
lowing the Visions of Petrarch, and thus have been led 
to emphasize her connection with them. His " Muses so- 
cietie" may refer to this specific connection, or even to 
the fact that the volume also contained the well-known 
Teares of the Muses. In any case the conjecture of the 
writer in the Diet, of Nat. Biog. seems unsupported. 

The purpose of this paper is to show that, some years 
before writing the Amoretti, Spenser fulfilled the promise 
he made to Lady Carey in a sonnet accompanying the 
Faerie Queene. He did this by dedicating to her in the 

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same year his Muiopotmos, probably newly composed for 
her, and uniting with it, by an allusion in the first and 
especially by a new envoy at the close, three of his early 
Visions, making a complete booklet in her honor. This 
booklet was perhaps printed separately from the rest of 
the Complaints, not only because of the date on the title- 
page, but because the arrangement in the larger Quarto 
shows separate printing to have been possible without dis- 
turbing the paging in any particular. It follows, there- 
fore, that we need not look for the fulfilment of Spenser's 
promise to the Amoretti, as has been done, or to any 
other later work of the poet. 

This paper also suggests some probable reasons why 
the Lady Carey portion of the Complaints, first pub- 
lished as shown by the date on the title-page, was later 
displaced from the initial position, either by the revival 
of Sidney's fame in 1590 and the consequent writing of 
the Buines of Time at the urging of Spenser's friends, 
or by the changed relations of the Kaleigh-Essex rivalry 
at court Besides, some fuller exainination of the Com- 
plaints volume has been made, showing how it consists 
of four independent booklets, each of which, like the 
Daphnaxda to which they bear the closest likeness, might 
have been separately issued and perhaps was so. Finally, 
it attempts to reconcile Spenser's part in arranging the 
Complaints, or a portion of it, with the part claimed for 
himself by the publisher Ponsonby. 

Oliveb Fabbab Emebson. 

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In a recently published volume I have referred ^ to the 
curious relationship that subsists between the legend of 
St Wulfhad and St. EuflSn,^ which is known to us through 
the Cottonian ms. Nero C. XII, and a set of verses dealing 
with the founders and benefactors of Stone Priory in Staf- 
fordshire, which has been preserved by Dugdale in the 
Monasticon.^ In my Saints' Legends I had not the space 
to present in detail the evidence by which these two docu- 
ments are connected, nor to discuss freely the interesting 
problems that they suggest. The evidence is of such a 
character, and the problems involved are so novel, that a 
further consideration of the matter seems desirable. 

Interbelation of the Documents 

The legend, with which we may begin our examination, 
is unfortunately extant in a somewhat fragmentary state 
only. So little remains of the first seventy lines that they 
cannot well be reconstructed. Except for the light they 
might have thrown on the archaeological question presently 
to be discussed, the loss cannot, however, be greatly de- 
plored. The legend is very rudely fashioned in fifteenth- 
century alliterative verse, for the most part rhyming in 
couplets, but occasionally using a convenient rhyme more 
freely or falling back on shameless assonance. It has 

^Baintf^ Legends, 1916, pp. 273-276. 

' Ed. HoTBtmaim, Altengl Leg., N. F., pp. 308-314. 

•Ed. 1846, VI, pp. 230-231. 

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neither literary pretensions nor literary merit. In most 
ways, moreover, it has slight historical or hagiographieal 
value, for the information it gives about St. Wulfhad and 
his brother was taken from the ornate Latin Passio,^ still 
extant, which is presumably the " cronakle '^ mentioned in 
V. 155. 

The legend is a precious document simply and solely 
because of its origin and use at Stone Priory, where it was 
written or painted upon a " table " on the epistle side of 
the choir. There is evidence of this in the poem itself. 

And hys broder Ruffyn, >at withe hym is shiynede infere^ 

As thys tabyU maket mensyon that ys wryltyn here. 

And all that on this tabull redes, god grante them hys grace. 

(w. 379381) 

The position of the tablet is curiously restricted to the left 
side of the choir by two references in the legend to a couple 
of other "tables" similarly placed within the church. 
The first of these seems to have been inscribed with the 
names of the lords who came from Normandy with Wil- 
liam the Conqueror. 

Whos names be writyn in a tabull on the right syde the qweer. 

(V. 318) 

The second, with which we are more nearly concerned, is 
described thus : 

How the lordes of Stafforde fowndyd >i8 place, >e sothe if ye will 

Here-by in a tabull is writtyn all the processe infere. (w. 351-352) 

Since the first tablet is said to have been placed on the 
right side of the choir, and the second to have been " here- 
by " the one on which the legend was inscribed, it seems 

*B. H. L. 8735. Printed by Dugdale, vi, pp. 226-230, from MS. 
Cott. Otho A. XVI, and thence in A. BB, lUL. v, pp. 575-581. 

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clear that llie latter must have been situated, as I have 
said, on the epistle side.*^ 

Oddly enough, the inscription on the tablet that hung, 
or was affixed, near the legend is the document preserved 
by Dugdale. How he obtained this account of the re- 
establishment of Stone after the Conquest, and of its sub- 
sequent history, I do not know. He says of it simply: 
" The Copie of the Table that was hanging in the Priorie 
of Stone, at the time of the Suppression of the same, in 
the xxix. yeare of the Kaigne of our Soveraign Lord Bang 
Henry the VIIL'' The verses — ^in the same metre and in 
the same slipshod style as the legend — ^begin thus: 

All manner of men, that lust for to here 

How this Monasterie was founded here, 

Read out this Table, that here it is written, 

And all this matter so may ye witten. 

8aint Armemild that good woman. 

Saint Wolfad's mother this place first began. 

Who soe lust to witt what wise, and why, 

Read over this other Table that here is written by. 

And all the whole matter there shall ye finde 

In the life of Saint Wolfade and nothing left behinde; 

But who that . . . canons began here first to dwell. 

In this present Table here shall you here tell. 

However Dugdale may have obtained his copy of this 
inscription, the reference to the " other table,'' with its 
l^end of St. Wulfhad, is explicit. The two sets of verses, 
though they have been preserved to us by entirely different 
channels, were beyond question once placed side by side in 
the Priory Church at Stone; and they were expressly de- 
signed to complement one another in the information they 

' When I wrote the paragraph about the legend in Samia' Legends, 
1 had not, in my blindness, made out the reference to the list of 
Norman lords, and so placed the account of the founders on the right 
of the choir. 

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gave about the local legend and the history of the foun- 

As far as the latter is concerned, the tablet of benefactors 
is naturally of more value than its companion; and its 
record is of very considerable worth by way of supplement 
to the evidence concerning Stone Priory that survives in 
charters and other documents from the twelfth century to 
the sixteenth. Unfortunately the text printed by Dug- 
dale is obviously very far from perfect,® which leads to a 
probably unjustified distrust of the chronicle as a whole. 
The accoimt of the relationship of the powerful Stafford 
line to the Priory seems, in point of fact, to be entirely 
worthy of trust. 

There was, as is pointed out in both the legend and the 
memorial " table," a religious foundation on the site of 
Stone Priory as early as the seventh century, endowed by 
Eormengild, the mother of Wulfhad and Kuffin. Evi- 
dently it had fallen upon evil days before the Norman 
Conquest ; and there is little reason to doubt the statement 
of the founders' tablet as to conditions at that time: 

That two nunns and one preest lived in this place, (t. 16) 

Thus reduced, it was attacked by the Norman lord of the 
manor, Enisan de Walton, who killed the little remnant of 
the establishment, either wishing to have it for himself or, 
as the memorial tablet more specifically says : 

Because his sister should have this church thoe. (v. 20) 

This Enisan seems to have been the son of the Emaldus 
(or Arnold) ^ who held the manor of Walton at the time 

* Aside from obvious modernizations, the relations to the Priory of 
Nicholas de Stafford and his son Edmund (w. 93-110) are reversed 
in the text as we have it. 

* See R. W. Eyton, in CoUectione for a Efistory of Btaffordahire fty 
the WilUam Bait ArohaeologuxU Society, u, p. 200. 

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of the Domesday survey of 1085-6, in which Stone is not 
directly mentioned, being covered by the entry for Wal- 
ton.® This omission from the Domesday Book is, again, 
indirect evidence that the shrine of Wulfhad and KuflSn 
was neither wealthy nor illustrious at that day. Enisan, 
like Arnold, acknowledged the overlordship of Robert de 
Stafford, the chief landholder of the county.® 

The two documents that we are considering agree in 
ascribing the re-establishment of Stone as a priory to Eni- 
san's deed of violence; and they enable us to fix the date of 
the foundation more exactly than can be done by means 
of any charters extant. Both of them state that Gteoffrey 
de Clinton, who was chamberlain of Henry I, was at that 
time building " the abbey of Kenelworthe." Now the sec- 
ond charter of Kenilworth Priory, which was founded by 
Geoffrey, was witnessed by Simon, Bishop of Worcester, 
who was consecrated in 1125.^*^ It must have been 
erected, accordingly, not far from that date. Since Stone 
Priory was ceded to Kenilworth between 1130 and 1135, 
as we shall presently see, we cannot be far wrong in believ- 
ing that Enisan established it between 1125 and 1130. 

In only one particular do the legend and the memorial 
tablet disagree, or seem to disagree. The legend says that 
Enisan, when he had repented of his crime because of 
sickness, went to Geoffrey de Clinton ^^ for advice. Geof- 

* ** Ipse Rotbertus (de Stadford) tenet Waletone et Emaldus de eo." 

• See W. H. R. Curtter, in Victoria County History of Staffordshire, 
p. 222. Robert de Toeni assumed the style of de Stafford, though it 
was not till a century and a half later that his descendant Ralph 
(1299-1342) became Earl of Stafford. 

*• See Le Neve's Fasti Eoclesiae Anglica^iae, ed. T. D. Hardy, 1854, 
m, p. 49, and Stubbs, Registrwn Sacrum AngUcanum, 1897, p. 44. 

" The text reads " Glentone " and " Glentam,'' which are corrup- 
tions. Enisan reads " Ensam,'' it may be noted. 

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frey, who was " nye cosyn " to Enisan,^^ advised him to 
restore Stone and to found there " a howse of chanons in 
worshipe of sent Wolfade." This Enisan did, and was 
healed. Thus the legend. The founders' tablet, after re- 
marking that Enisan's sister, for whose sake he had sacked 
the church, " soon died and himself great vengeance had," 
goes on to say that Robert de Stafford went to Geoffrey de 
Clinton for counsel in the matter, and that he himself es- 
tablished the canons at Stone. At first sight, this looks like 
a rather startling discrepancy between the two inscriptions, 
the more marked because they refer to one another and 
were actually once set side by side in the Priory church. 
As a matter of fact, however, I believe that the disagree- 
ment is only apparent, and of no real significance. If it 
be true that Enisan was ill, and thought his affliction the 
result of his misdeeds, what more natural than that his 
overlord should be his emissary to Geoffrey de Clinton? 
What more natural than that the part played by Eobert 
should be stressed on the founders' tablet, which simi- 
marized the connection of the entire Stafford line with 
Stone Priory, while Enisan's role in re-establishing the 
house was properly emphasized in the legendary inscrip- 
tion? There is no real contradiction between the two 
statements ; nor have we any reason to doubt the credibility 
of the essential evidence.^^ This question of the founda- 
tion has a bearing upon the authorship of the two inscrip- 
tions, a matter that we must shortly consider. 

Although Enisan de Walton was the actual founder of 
the house of Augustinian canons,^* which replaced the 

^ Of this relationship I find no other mention, and see no way to 
test the accuracy of the statement. 

"The skepticism of R. W. Eyton, place cited, seems to me quite 

^ By a stupid lapse, not easy to forgive, I wrote Carthusian instead 
of Augustinian in Baintt* Legends, p. 274. 

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earlier foundation at Stone, the Staffords were the great 
patrons of the Priory from the beginning. Down to the 
fifteenth century most of the earls were buried there, and 
the hereditary interest of the family in the house seems 
never to have lapsed. It was Robert de Stafford, accord- 
ing to the founders' tablet (w. 37-38), who sent one of the 
canons to Eiome to arrange for the canonization of Wulf- 
had.^** Furthermore, Eobert's son Nicholas was a party 
to the cession of Stone to Kenilworth Priory by Enisan de 
Walton and his son Arnold. In this transaction Geoffrey 
de Clinton also appeared, paying Arnold fifty pounds and 
a palfrey, and Enisan a " pallium grisimi " and a palfrey. 
Nicholas de Stafford had to give assent to the transfer as 
the overlord of Enisan. The two charters in question can 
be dated within a few years. The Stafford charter was 
given in the reign of Henry I, and Enisan's was witnessed 
by Roger, Bishop of Chester. Now, Roger de Clinton was 
consecrated Bishop of Lichfield, Coventry, and Chester on 
December 22, 1129, while Henry I died in 1135. The 
charters must thus be dated between 1130 and 1135.^® 

It is interesting to note, as a confirmation of the general 
credibility of the English inscriptions at Stone, that the 

"According to the legend (w. 364-370) and the Latin Pa88io 
{Monaaticon vi, p. 230), St. Wulfhad*B head was left by the canon 
at Viterbo, on his way home. The Latin particularizes that it was 
deposited at the churdi of St. Laurence there. It does not appear bt 
the very full lists of relics belonging to the Cathedral of S. Lorenzo, 
to be found in P. Cristofori, Le Tombe dei Papi in Viterbo, 1887, pp. 
234-237. The Latin account implies, though it does not expressly 
say, that the risit of canonization took place soon after the Benedic- 
tine Revival. This does not agree with the English statements, and 
it is inherently improbable. 

^ Both of them are to be found in the Monaaticon vi, pp. 231-232. 
For Roger de Clinton, see LeNeve's Fasti, ed. Hardy, i, p. 644, and 
Stubbs, Registrum, p. 226. Stubbs failed to note that Roger was not 
enthroned until 1130. 

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Stafford charter expressly states that it was placed " super 
altare " there, while the founders' tablet remarks of Nich- 

And to this place did many benefits sekerlie, 

As bj his charters appeareth apertlie. (yv. 51-52) 

Apparently the writer of the inscription had seen the char- 
ter in its place above the altar. Later — ^very much later — 
Eobert de Stafford, a great-great-great-grandson of the 
original Robert, made Stone free of ETenilworth, as it re- 
mained until its destruction during the reign of Henry 

The question now arises whether the two inscriptions 
that we have been discussing were composed by the same 
hand. The cross-references between them, which I have 
already instanced, make it clear that they must have been 
put into position at about the same time. If I am right 
in believing that their slightly varying accounts of the 
establishment of the Augustinians at Stone were due to a 
natural difference of stress, there seems to be no reason 
for doubting that they were written by the same man. 
Their timibling metre is the same; and such characteris- 
tics of versification and phrasing as they boast — ^literary 
style they have none, as I have said — ^indicate a common 

^^The statement in A Survey of Staffordshire ... by Sampson 
Erdeswick Esq., ed. T. Harwood, 1844, p. 36, note, to the effect that 
Ernaldus de Walton forfeited Stone to the King, who then granted it 
to Robert de Stafford, is apparently based on the legend, yy. 349-350, 
which, however, refers to Arnold's property at large. Robert, the 
grandson of the original Robert, seems to have swallowed up his 
vassaFs forfeited lands and thus to have come into a more direct 
patronage of Stone Priory, though the title to it was clearly vested 
in the Canons of Eenilworth. See G. Wrottesley, in Colleotiona . . 
hy the WiUiam Salt Arch. Soo. i, p. 178, for the record of a fine 
due by Arnold in 31 Henry I. The Priory Church fell in 1749. The 
state of the ruins in 1909 is described by F. Parker, Collections . . . 
hy the William Salt Arch. Soc,, New Ser., xn, p. 106. 

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authorship. TJnfortTinately the copies in which they are 
preserved are so imperfect that the application of linguis- 
tic tests is out of the question. 

Whether or no the verses on the two tablets were writ- 
ten by the same man, as seems to me certain, they must 
have been made at practically the same time. The cross- 
references would otherwise be inexplicable. The approxi- 
mate date at which they were set up is fortunately made 
clear in the closing lines of the founders' inscription, which 


And his brother sir Hugh, the lord Bouchier, 
Is buried in the south side of this quier, 
Besides his father earle Hugh, as you may see, 
In a fayre new tombe here buryed is hee. 

Now, Hugh de Stafford, Lord Bourchier, died in 1420.^® 
If we allow a sufficient time for the making of his tomb, 
the period during which it could be called new would cer- 
tainly not pass the middle of the century. Indeed, since 
the last Earl of Stafford mentioned in the record (w. 147- 
156), Lord Bourchier's brother Edmund, was killed at the 
Battle of Shrewsbury in 1403, it seems probable that 1426 
would be a nearer approximation to the date than 1450. 


The Question op Mural Display 

As we have already seen, the verses that we are study- 
ing were in some manner or other inscribed on tablets in 
the choir of the church at Stone Priory. On the other 
side of the choir was a third tablet inscribed with the 
names of the lords " which camme frome Normandy " 
with "Willam Bastarde." If we may believe Dugdale, 
which appears safe, these "tables" were "hanging" in 

" See Dugdale, Baronage, i, p. 174. 

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the church. Three questions at once suggest themselves. 
Why were the tablets set up? What was their nature? 
Was it customary to employ sets of verses like these for 
mural display ? 

The first question is, of course, not difficult to answer. 
The canons of Stone took this means of informing all and 
sundry — the laity of the neighborhood, the pilgrims who 
came to the shrine of St. Wulfhad, and perhaps their own 
successors — ^with regard to the history of the establishment 
and the saint in whose honor it was founded. Anyone 
who could read at all would thus be enabled to learn with- 
out much effort everything he needed to know about the 

The nature of the tablets, on the other hand, is a more 
difficult question. There is no indication in the two surviv- 
ing inscriptions as to whether they were written on wood 
or engraved on metal, nor yet how they were affixed to the 
walls of the choir. Were they, moreover, in the choir it- 
self or in the ambulatory outside? To resolve this prob- 
lem, one needs to be better informed than anyone seems to 
be at present with regard to the use of long inscriptions on 
the walls of mediaeval buildings. Some years ago, Miss 
Hammond drew attention to the question ^^ and illus- 
trated some of its aspects by pointing out that at least four 
of Lydgate's poems were designed for mural display. The 
Life of St. George and the Falls of Seven Princes, which 
she printed,^® were certainly used in this way, while the 
Dance Macabre and Bycome and Chichevache ^^ were in- 

" E. P. Hammond, " Two Tapestry Poems by Lydgate," Engl. Btud., 
xun, pp. 10-26. 

**The 8t, George may also be read in H. N. MacGracken, The 
Minor Poems of John Lydgate, 1911 (EETS. cvn), pp. 146-154. 

'^The former inedited as yet, tbe latter accessible in J. 0. Halli- 
well, Minor Poems of Lydgate, 1840 (Percy Soc. n), pp. 129-135. 

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tended for a similar pul^ose. To this list should proba- 
bly be added A Prayer to St, Thomas of Canterbury (first 
edited by MacCracken),^^ which seems to have been meant 
as a votive offering to the saint. 

As Miss Hammond says :^^ " It is not uncommon, in 
the representations of tapestry which remain to us, to see 
the descriptive quatrain of the versifier woven by the hand 
of the tapestrymaker into the margin of his work." All 
of us have seen these explanatory embroiderings ;^* and 
we are all familiar with similar descriptive indications in 
old paintings. The use of inscriptions on wood and stone, 
in every age and country, needs no illustration. The point 
is, as Miss Hammond remarks, that " if we are to believe 
some of the texts yet existing, a poem of considerable 
length could be painted or stitched, stanza by stanza, along 
with the scenes depicted by the artist ;" or, I should add, 
could equally well be used in a window or on a tablet like 
those at Stone Priory. 

As a matter of fact, it seems to me that Miss Hammond 
was mistaken in calling Lydgate's St. Oeorge a " tapestry 
poem." It is designated in the mss. " pe devyse of a 
steyned halle," " made with pe balades at pe request of 
f>armorieres of Londoun ; " and it must thus have been in- 
tended for painting rather than weaving. The same seems 
to be true of Bycome and Chichevache, as Miss Hanamond 
notes, where " portreyed " is the word constantly used to 
indicate the figures that were to illustrate the text. It 
seems to me improbable, moreover, that the Dance Mor 
cabre was designed for tapestry. Its length, for one thing, 

^Work cited, pp. 140-143. 

"P. 10. 

•*Mi88 Hammond's quotations (p. 21) from the lists of the tapes- 
tries of Charles VI of France and of Henry V of England are inter- 
esting and valuable. 

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makes the supposition unlikely: the expense would have 
been prohibitive. The Falls of Seven Princes, on the 
other hand, might well have been intended to accompany 
tapestry portraits of the ill-fated great men who were 
briefly celebrated in it. 

That poems of no inconsiderable length were actually 
used in tapestry, as Miss Hammond says, there is no ques- 
tion. To the evidence she has presented may be added 
that of the series given in 1531 to the church of St Kemi 
at Rheims, in which the life of St. Remigius is related in 
one hundred and sixty-two verses. ^^ Such an elaborate 
use of verse in tapestry must have been, however, com- 
paratively rare, since the beautiful fabrics so intricately 
woven were always costly: a luxury for the rich and the 

The same must be said of another use of verse in medise- 
val buildings — in stained glass — in which poems of any 
great length could not have beeen employed without add- 
ing vastly to the expense of production. Two striking in- 
stances of the custom of so using verse have, however, come 
to my attention. One is from Peterborough. In the 
Monasticon^^ are to be found eighty verses, in short 
rhymed couplets, printed by Dugdale from ms. Cotton 
Claudius A. V., which are superscribed : " Historia de 
fundatione hujus coenobii, el^antissime in fenestris vi- 
treatis, ex occidentali parte claustri ibidem depicta fuit, 
cum Anglicanis hisce carminibus argumentum ejusdem 
illustrantibus." This poem, a very crude production, re- 
lates briefly the story of Wulfhad and Ruffin, and of the 
foundation of Peterborough by their father Wulfhere in 
expiation for their murder. The other illustration of the 

" See M. Sartor, Lea Tapiaaeriea de Reims, 1912, pp. 137-158. 
"I, p. 377. 

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Tise of rather long poems in windows comes from St. 
Albans, and likewise from the Monasticon,^'^ In the ac- 
count of that great monastery, there are printed two sets 
of Latin verses from ms. Laud 697, one of ninety-six lines 
from the windows of the cloister and one of forty-eight 
from the windows of the library. Both Peterborough and 
St Albans were, of course, rich Benedictine houses that 
could afford to furnish instruction expensively while they 
patronized the arts. Only under such conditions would 
narratives in glass have been possible. 

Wealthy, too, no doubt, were the patrons — or custom- 
ers — for whom Lydgate made his pictorial poems. The 
length of at least three out of the five sets of verses ^® men- 
tioned above would have made their inscription in any 
medium a matter of considerable difficulty and expense. 
Less extravagant than tapestry or stained glass, because 
done in a medium easier to manipulate, would doubtless 
have been mural paintings like those for the citizens of 
London to whom Lydgate furnished Bycome and Chiche- 
vache. Even more readily within the range of slender 
purses, however, would have been mural inscriptions with 
no pictorial illustration at all. Such, evidently, were the 
"tables" at Stone Priory, which seems never to have 
known great worldly prosperity in spite of its powerful 

To be sure, tablets might also be articles of great value 
when gilded and enamelled. An inventory of the ob- 
jects in St. George's Chapel, Windsor, made by one Walter 
Almaly in 1384, illustrates this f act.^® Of one " tabula '' 

»n, pp. 246-248. 

" 8t, Charge has 246 lines. Dance Macabre 672, Byoome a/nd Chiche- 
vache 133, A Prayer to 8t Thcmaa 120, and Falls of Seven Princes 

"Printed in the Monasiicon, vi, p. 1364, from an Ashmole ms. 

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there described more definite information would be very 
much to our purpose. " Item una tabula lignea stans 
super parvum altare in parte boreali, ex opposite summo 
altari, cum platis et imaginibus cupreis deauratis, conti- 
nens passionem S. Gleorgii." I take it, though I do not 
feel certain of the fact, that this was a martyrdom in 
words and not merely in pictured scenes. If so, it must 
have been a luxurious example of something more crudely 
accomplished at Stone. 

More nearly resembling the tablets there, would have 
been the one at Wirkesop Priory, Notts., if I am right in 
believing that some verses preserved in the Monasiicon ^^ 
were actually set up as an inscription. They consist of 
twenty-nine English stanzas in rhyme royal interspersed 
with bits of Latin, and they were made not long after 
1410, as is shown by one of the inserted Latin epitaphs. 
They served as a guide to the tombs in the church, telling 
where various benefactors were buried, precisely as did the 
verses on the founders' tablet at Stone. The author, who 
was by no means an accomplished poet, named himself in 
stanza 28: 

This processe one Pigote brevely thus saith. 

If any can say more, it is corrigible; 

To there better avise I me bequeath. 

We cannot be sure that these verses were really inscribed 
on a tablet ; but from their resemblance to those at Stone 
we have good reason to suppose that they were. In any 
case, they were quite clearly kept in the church for consul- 

From the evidence that I have presented, which is 
merely illustrative and by no means exhausts the possibili- 
ties of investigation, it is evident that the use of rather 

••vT, pp. 122-124: "Ex vet. pergam. MS. pcnfes .... Talbot de 
Grafton, in Com. Wigom. arm. a. 1587." 

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long poems for mural display was not at all uncommon 
during the later Middle Ages. The founders' memorial 
inscription at Stone with its one hundred and sixty-two 
lines, and the legend of St. Wulfhad with its three hun- 
dred and eighty-two, could have been put on tablets quite 
as easily as some of the other poems we have noticed could 
have been employed in mural decoration. It is not clear 
to me whether the tablets at Stone were wooden, though I 
incline to think so from the fact that the Priory was never 
rich. In that case, the verses must have been painted on 
a "background of another color — a comparatively simple 
procedure. The necessary size of tablets so made has led 
me to wonder whether they may not have been affixed in 
the aisle outside the choir rather than in the choir itself; 
but this is mere hypothesis. The important facts we 
know : two sets of verses were inscribed in such a manner 
that they could be read by everyone, and they were so 
placed in public view in accordance with a well-marked 
custom of the times. 

In conclusion, I should like to add that it seems to me 
not improbable that a good many late mediaeval poems, 
legends and narratives of a moralizing tendency, were in- 
tended for pictorial illustration on the walls of buildings. 
More evidence with regard to the matter would be wel- 
come, particTilarly as it might enable us to understand 
certain qualities of handling that are not very clear at 
present. Incidentally it is interesting to observe that 
verse would not have been used in tapestry, in painting, or 
in glass, nor would tablets have been set up for people to 
read, until a knowledge of reading was fairly common. 
Perhaps that is why most of the examples I have collected 
come from the fifteenth century. 

GoBDON Hall Gebotjld. 

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Google J 



Modern Language Association of America 

Vol. XXXII, 3 New Series, Vol. XXV, 3 


The Discourses of Sir Joshua Reynolds formulate a the- 
ory of painting which elevates that art to a kinship with 
the then more firmly established art of poetry. On the 
ground that painting is no mere handicraft, the great pres- 
ident of the Royal Acad^ny recommended to his pupils 
" not the industry of the hands, but of the mind," and in- 
sisted that a successful painter " stands in need of more 
knowledge than is to be picked off his palette.'' ^ This 
general assertion is then amplified, in one of the most sig- 
nificant passages of the lectures. " Every man,*' Reynolds 
continued, " whose business is description, ought to be tol- 
erably conversant with the poets, . . . that he may imbibe 
a poetical spirit, and enlarge his stock of ideas. He ought 
not to be wholly unacquainted with that part of philoso- 
phy which gives an insight into human nature. . . . He 
ought to know something concerning the mind, as well as 
a great deal concerning the body of man." 

^ Ditcourses, vn, pp. 91-92. 


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To attain this degree of general culture, the young artist 
was warned not to sacrifice excellence in the technique of 
his own particular art ; reading should be only " the fav- 
ourite recreation of his leisure hours." But this actual 
study could be supplemented, without sacrifice of time, by 
"the conversation of learned and ingenious men." " There 
are many such men in this age," Reynolds declared, who 
" will be pleased with communicating their ideas to artists, 
when they see them curious and docile, if they are treated 
with that respect and deference which is so justly their 
due." ^ Through such help the young student may indi- 
rectly acquire the learning that he needs for the formation 
of a " rational and systematic taste." 

It is chiefly this suggestion of means that gives a touch 
of personality to the painter's words. Reynolds's prede- 
cessor, Jonathan Richardson, had mapped out an even 
more formidable course of study for the young artist. 
Reynolds, however, speaks from actual experience. Is not 
this suggestion virtually an admission of what he himself, 
with his meagre schooling, had learned through converse 
with friends in the London clubs? At the Turk's Head 
Tavern on Fleet Street he often saw one such man of let- 
ters claim respect and deference as his due. It may be 
that Reynolds in these words slyly alluded to the dictator- 
ial ways of his friend, Johnson, which are so wittily 
travestied in one of the painter's Dialogvss. But in all 
seriousness Reynolds acknowledged his friend's aid. 
" Whatever merit they may have," he once remarked of 
his lectures, " must be imputed, in a great measure, to the 
education which I may be said to have had under Dr. 
Johnson. I do not mean to say, though it certainly would 
be to the credit of these Discourses if I could say it with 

•/Wd., p. 92. 

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truth, that he contributed even a single sentiment to them; 
but he qualified my mind to think justly." ^ This admis- 
sion is virtually confirmed by Burke, who wrote to Malone : 
" You state very properly how much Keynolds owed to the 
writings and conversation of Johnson ; and nothing shows 
more the greatness of Sir Joshua's parts than his taking 
advantage of both, and making some application of them to 
his profession." * 

Neither Burke, then, nor any other member of the liter- 
ary club would have been surprised to hear Johnson ex- 
claim, as he once did, " I think I might as well have said 
this myself." ^ In fact, the voice of Johnson is often audi- 
ble in the Discourses. Reynolds, for example, has no pa- 
tience with artists who attend " to times and seasons when 
the imagination shoots with the greatest vigour, whether at 
the summer solstice or the vernal equinox." ® A reader 
of Johnson remembers that Milton's " vein never happily 
flowed but from the Autumnal Equinox to the Vernal," 
and that " a man may write at any time, if he will set 
himself doggedly to it." ® Similarly, the positive dicta in 
Rdsselas on the choice of life are mildly reflected in Rey- 
nolds's words, ^' they proceed upon a false supposition of 
life ; as if we possessed not only a power over events and 
circimistances, but had a greater power over ourselves 
than I believe any of us will be found to possess." '' Or, 
again, after reading Johnson's harsh judgment of Lycidas 
for its pastoral fiction, one will find an especial interest 
in Reynolds's opinion: " It appears to me, that such con- 
duct is no less absurd, than if a plain man, giving a rela- 

* Boswell's Life, ed. O. B. Hill, m, p. 420. 

*rbid., I, p. 2S4, n. 

*Ihid., IV, p. 370. 

^Discouraes, vn, p. 93. Boswell, i, p. 236. 

' Diaoovraea, xn, p. 176. Baaaelaa, chaps, xvi, zx. 

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tion of real distress occasioned by an inundation accom- 
panied with thunder and lightning, should, instead of 
simply relating the event, take it into his head, in order 
to give a grace to his narration, to talk of Jupiter Plu- 
vius, or Jupiter and his thunder bolts, or any other figura- 
tive idea." ® So the firmer thread of Johnson's thought 
is woven with Eeynolds's own opinions. Consequently, the 
statement is often made that the great dictator aided the 
painter very materially in the composition of the Dis- 

This view has usually been accepted without challenge 
by all who remember Reynolds's inadequate literary train- 
ing and his greater deftness with the brush than with the 
pen. The painter, however, expressly declared that he re- 
ceived no such assistance. Johnson may have composed 
the dedication to the king for the edition of 1778, but be- 
yond that he could hardly go. He knew so little of the 
theory of painting that he wondered at its affording ma- 
terial for a treatise so large as Richardson's, and, if stories 
by Hawkins and Mrs. Piozzi are to be trusted, he felt no 
aesthetic pleasure in the art.® His serious judgment, one 
fancies, was expressed in the single statement, " painting. 
Sir, can illustrate, but cannot inform." In this terse 
declaration is embraced all that critics like Lord Shaftes- 
bury, du Bos, and James Harris had written on the limita- 
tion of painting to a single moment of time and a well- 
known subject.*® But a trained artist like Reynolds could 
go on to demonstrate how painting, even under this limi- 
tation, can graphically portray what poetry elaborates. So 

'Diaoouraet, ziv, p. 221. 

•Boswell, I, pp. 149, n., 421, n., iv, p. 370. 

"Shaftesbury, A Notion of the HUtoriodl Dromght or Tablature 
of the Judgment of Hercules, ed. 1714, pp. 6-13; da Bos, R^fleanons 
Critiques sur la Poiaie et aur la Peinture, chap, xm; Harris, A 
Discourse on Music, Painting, and Poetry, chaps, n, iv, v. 

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in general painting was willing to take over from the more 
solidly grounded art much of its fundamental theory. 
Nevertheless, the particular application of that theory to 
painting was work of which the unappreciative literary 
men were incapable. Keynolds alone could have elab- 
orated the Discourses. 

There were many men in England and France then 
busy with the problems that Reynolds discussed. The 
" art of painting " during the sixteenth century in Italy, 
and later in France and England, had been systematized 
and codified almost as frequently and extensively as the 
" art of poetry.'' There were the painters themselves, like 
Leonardo da Vinci, interested mainly in technique, yet 
not unmindful of deeper, aesthetic problems; there were 
the speculative philosophers, who laid down precise rules 
for others to follow ; and, in Scotland, a group of philoso- 
phers, partly under French influence, was working on the 
problem of the beautiful in its relations to art and life. 
Eeynolds belonged to no one party. In habits of thought 
he was too philosophical to be merely a technician; yet 
his relation to painting was too actual to leave him merely 
a theorist. Breadth of view and soundness of judgment 
are happily combined in the Discourses. 

Without his bent for abstract speculation, Reynolds 
might have fixed the attention of the Academicians on 
principles of technique, for he was familiar with the most 
important treatises on the art. He supplied critical notes 
for Mason's translation of du Fresnoy's De Arte Graph 
ica; he quoted from de Piles, who translated and aug- 
mented the poem of du Fresnoy, as well as from Leonardo. 
Dryden's interesting Parallel of Poetry and Painting, 

***Lrf. was known to Eeynolds. Still more influential 
was Richc^^^,g ^^^y ^ ^J^^ Theory of Painting; for 
the author was^n^^tt^e^.i^-law of Reynolds's first teacher, 

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and his book roused in the young painter his first devo- 
tion to the art. Finally, Reynolds had his own experi- 
ence and his own note books to draw from, had he wished 
to discuss pedantically the theory of painting. 

Reynolds, however, was distrustful of such mechanical 
rules. Regarding art not as a mere handicraft, but as the 
expression of the mind addressed to the mind, he probed 
deeper than other painters had done. The eighth Dis- 
course, in fact, apparently bids defiance to some well es- 
tablished rules. Actually, the lecturer did not wish to 
create in his pupils a disrespect for authority ; his aim was 
to show how, over and above rule, there is a fixed reason 
for all sound theory, and how a student who possesses " an 
intimate acquaintance with the passions and affections of 
the mind, from which all rules arise," can safely disr^ard 
at times the letter of the law. So his chief concern was 
to establish a broad theory of the nature and object of his 
art. ' ■'! 

Although Reynolds faced his problem in this spirit, he 
was not lured into the fruitless speculations of many 
philosophers who lacked his long and rigorous training. 
He could recognize the close alliance of the arts, without 
cursorily relegating painting, as Batteux had done, to a 
complete dependence on poetry.^^ Horace's phrase, "ut 
pictura poesis," had been often misinterpreted, to the ut- 
ter confounding of the arts ; but Reynolds never lost sight 
of the distinctive elements of painting, even in these lec- 
tures that aim to establish a common ground for the two 
arts.^^ These distinctions were not first drawn by him. 
Lord Shaftesbury had explained how a painter is re- 
stricted to a single moment in a continuous action, and 

" Lea Beauw Arts RSduits d un iw6me Principe, Pari» * * \iat' 

'' Haa W g , T Tnwara P.ihli^niinnjt Modem l^«f " , q^.!. ^^ *^' 

vols, xxn, XXIV, and edition of Laokoon, N*^ J-ork, 1910. 

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Abb6 du Bos and James Harris had shown that a painter 
should confine himself to subjects marked chiefly by fig- 
ure and color, to actions that can be well depicted in a 
single moment, to emotions not too subtle, and to subjects 
fairly well known. Eeynolds barely alludes to such dis- 
tinctions ; for they impressed him as too obvious to merit 
much discussion. Still, he never surrendered the individ- 
ual rights of painting. " No art/' he declared, " can be 
grafted with success on another art," and a painter, he in- 
sisted, must acquire independently his own "genius of 
execution.'^ In other words, painting has its own distinc- 
tive mode of appeal, its own metier.*' So he held aloof 
from the subtle refinements of the philosophers, as he 
avoided also the mechanical analysis of the painters, in 
the belief that, where speculation goes on unchecked, art 
must remain at a standstill 

One finds, therefore, in the Discourses, both a recogni- 
tion of the fundamentd principles common to the arts 
and a confident insistence on the autonomy of painting. 
In the higher social life of London Keynolds moved, a 
self-made man, among aristocrats and noblemen, with no 
trace of cringing. The same sincere modesty and inde- 
pendence mark his criticism. He approached his subject 
with some diffidence. A painter, whose main occupation 
has been " the use of the pencil and the palette,'' experi- 
ences, he felt, some difficulty in expounding " the interior 
principles " of the art. Poets, on the contrary, " are nat- 
urally writers of prose," and " may be said to be practis- 
ing only an inferior department of their own art, when 
they are explaining and expatiating upon its most refined 
principles." ** Hence he stood ready to learn from 
Joni*^^ Burke, Beattie, or any critic who had vital 

■ DisooureeM, 

Xm, p. Q06. 

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ideas. But he still valued what they lacked — the power 
of execution ; " one short essay written by a painter will 
contribute more to advance the theory of our art, than a 
thousand volumes such as we sometimes see." ** So he 
avoided the pitfalls of useless speculation^ as he avoided 
subservience to rule. Instead of the latter, he trusted to 
his own skill and experience ; instead of the former, he ac- 
cepted the theories that his own reason and the judgment 
of his literary friends sustained. With such ample sup- 
port he could modestly boast : " We shall have nothing to 
unlearn. ... As far as they [the painters] have yet pro- 
ceeded they are right. With us the exertions of genius will 
henceforward be directed to their proper objects." ^^ 

Beynolds's fundamental position regarding painting is 
well expressed in the words: " All arts having the same 
general end, which is to please, and addressing themselves 
to the same faculties through the medium of the senses; 
it follows that their rules and principles must have as 
great affinity as the different materials and the different 
organs or vehicles by which they pass to the mind will 
permit them to retain."^* Many others, on the authority 
of Horace's " ut pictura poesis," had held the same view. 
Dryden, for example, had quoted from Philostratus the 
words, " the art of painting has a wonderful affinity with 
that of poetry." Lord Shaftesbury, too, had affirmed that 
" in a real history-painter, the same knowledge, the same 
study, and views are required, as in a real poet," and that 
for success the painter must " apply himself to the study 
of moral and poetic truth."^^ Eeynolds sensibly modifies 
this opinion by the saving qualification at the close, in 

^Di800ur»€8, XV, pp. 229-230. 

»/Wd., I, p. 4. -/Wd., vn, p. i^ 

"nrv^on Pq^77gi_o^ KcF, ^ 124. fihaf*****'^' Judgmmt of 
Hercules, p. 43. 

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whicli one sees again his talent with the brush checking a 
natural taste for generalization. But the painter could not 
lose sight of the likeness of the arts. In a later lecture he 
asserted : " The great end of all those arts is to make an 
impression on the imagination and the feeling." Or, in 
other words, " art aims to produce a pleasing effect on the 
mind."^® Hence poets and painters alike are advised to 
study " the history of the mind " thoroughly, in order to 
comprehend the scope and mission of their art. To a con- 
sideration of these general principles, on which all the 
arts rest, the Discourses are mainly devoted. 

The first established principle of eighteenth-century 
literary criticism that Eeynolds applied to painting is, 
> study the masters of old. Pope had compressed the pre- 
cept in a few terse couplets: 

Tou, then, whose judgment the right course would steer, 

Elnow well each ancient's proper character; .... 

Be Homer's works your study and delight, 

Read them by day, and meditate by night; 

Thence form your judgment, thence your maxims bring. 

And trace the Muses upward to their spring. 

Eeynolds preached often on the same text.^® " Those 
great masters who have travelled the same road with suc- 
c«3S,'^ he declared, " are the most likely to conduct others." 
For, as he understood it, "in the studj^ol^wr art, as in 
the study of all arts^jQUu^^^-^ig^The result of our own 
observation^-^^^^'^^'^'^^^^®^^ and that not a little, 

jx — tjirect of the example of those who have studied the 
same nature before us." So Reynolds insisted on imita- 
tion for beginners, and even recommended the same course 
to advanced students, in the belief that out of imitation 
grow variety, originality of invention, and even genius. 

^Discownea, xm, p. 206; vn, p. 108. 

^EsBoy on Oriticiam, 11. 118-127. Diaoouraea, ii, p. 14; xiv, p. 
211; VI, p. 72. 

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Eeynolds, however, Kved in an age whose classicism 
had outgrown its nonage. During the first years of the 
Eenaissance, scholars were passionately engrossed in 
claiming their new inheritance. Then, after the period 
of acquisition had passed, followed a generation that 
blindly observed the rules derived from the classics. 
Finally, in the time of Boileau, these rules were found 
to be valid only as they comport with the higher law of 
universal reason, and critics shook off the old, slavish de- 
pendence on rule to follow reason as their surest guide. 
Poussin rendered the same service to painters. This saner 
acceptance of tradition is the message of the Discourses. 
Reynolds admitted that youth may " be too much led away 
by great names," and " too much subdued by overbearing 
authority." He realized, also, that ceaseless copying for 
the painter is " a delusive kind of industry," which can 
lead no farther for him, than ceaseless translation for the 
dramatist, toward a " suflScient knowledge of the appear- 
ances of nature, the operations of the passions, and the in- 
cidents of life." Nevertheless, he believed the well-advised 
study of the masters to be ever necessary. " The mind is 
but a barren soil ; a soil which is soon exhausted, and will 
produce no crop, or only one, unless it be continuously 
fertilized and enriched with foreign matter." ^^ 

In short, Ke^noldc'q attitude toward rule resembles close- 
ly that of the sounder critics. Tto he^nner should yield 
" implicit obedience to the Rules of Art, as w^.^i^-gjig^ jjy 
the practice of the great masters." Later, these rules muj 
be dispensed with, or at times even violated, by artists 
who have become masters themselves. As warrant for 
this concession, Reynolds quoted from Pope the phrase, 
" To snatch a grace beyond the reach of art." But, even 

*• Diaoouraes, xiv, p. 211; n, p. 14; vi, p. 76. 

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in this freer creation, the painter is never to forget the 
necessity for painful exactness. Such discipline would 
reduce the mediocre artist to mere imitation. That, how- 
ever, need not be the result; for " the daily food and nour- 
ishment of the mind of an artist is found in the great 
works of his predecessors." Or, as Eeynolds again ex- 
pressed the thought, "the habit of contemplating and 
brooding over the ideas of great geniuses, till you find 
yourself warmed by the contact, is the true method of 
forming an artist-like mind." Here is play for genius.^^ 
In the literary criticism of the eighteenth century this 
fundamental rule, copy the ancients, was supplemented by 
another, follow nature. They seem at first incompatible. 
But the Georgian critics used the word " nature " as a 
synonym of truth and reason, and their second precept 
meant that the poet must read, beneath the accidental de- 
tails belonging to a subject, the fundamental truths that 
bring out its relationship to unchanging human laws. 
Good workmanship and sanity were the lessons they 
stressed. But these qualities were found by them chiefly, 
if not exclusively, in the classics. So the two principles 
merged, and Pope could frame, as variants of the same 
idea, the two injunctions : ^^ 

Be Homer's works your study and delight, 


First foUoj^ii-^-*^^''^*^ y®^ judgment frame 
standard, which is still the same. 

the harmony of the two principles the succeeding 
couplets insist: 

But when t' examine ev'ry part he came. 
Nature and Homer were, he found, the same. 

*^ DUcourBes, i, p. 4; xn, pp. 186-187. 

"^««ay on Criticism, 11. 68-73, 130-136. Cf. Discouraet, m, p. 28; 
VI, p. 78; ni, pp. 22, 23, 27; xm, pp. 197, 200. 

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Eeynolds simply repeated the doctrine. On one occa- 
sion he said : " I know but of one method of shortening 
the road; this is, by a careful study of the works of the 
ancient sculptors." In a later discourse he again de- 
clared : " The great use of studying our predecessors is, 
to open the mind, to shorten our labour, and to give us the 
result of the selection made by those great minds of what 
is grand or beautiful in nature. . . . The highest beauty 
of form must be taken from nature; but it is an art of 
long deduction and great experience to know how to 
find it." 

A gifted painter like Eeynolds would experience some 
difficulty in maintaining harmony between the two prin- 
ciples. Where he made his greatest successes he seems to 
have forgotten the guidance of the ancients, to have fol- 
lowed nature in the modem sense, using the accidental de- 
tail, not the universal form. Several times he employed 
the word "nature" in this sense. But theoretically he 
turned in the other direction. He constantly reminded 
his listeners that they must overlook the accidental feat- 
ures of their subjects. " Nature herself is not to be too 
cloaely copied;" particular truths must yield to general 
truths ; ^ i«aitation is the means and not the end of art" 
Eeynolds believed that even poetry deviates from nature, 
since the diction, xl^ytHm, and even the sentiments of 
poetry are not found in real hit?, ti^ q still greater degree 
the graphic arts neglect the minor truths ox x^.^. ,-^ ^^^^^ 
to stress the grand ideas that their subjects represent; Wx, 
painter's main concern is not literal truth, but ideal 
beauty. So to seize the essential, the enduring, is to follow 

The painter, therefore, must learn to transcend the 
actual, material world and realize the ideal forms that 
critics then accepted as " the source, and end, and test of 

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art" For all natural objects, Keynolds argued, are 
marred by blemishes. It rests witb the artist, then, to cor- 
rect nature, or, instead of copying exactly any object as 
it is, to create an ideal form that is free from the defects 
of actuality. Reynolds insisted that there is such an arch 
type for objects of every class, and that the artist can sense 
it by resort to the creative imagination. This ideal beauty 
never loses its appeal, and it alone can bestow on art a 
permanent value. Hence the painter, he urged, "must 
divest himself of all prejudices in favour of his age or coun- 
try; he must disr^ard all local or temporal ornaments, 
and look only on those general habits which are every- 
where and always the same ; he addresses his works to the 
people of every country and every age, he calls upon pos- 
terity to be his spectators.'' ^* 

The doctrines of the ideal form and universal truth 
are as old as Plato and Aristotle. From his early teacher, 
Zachariah Mudge, " the wisest man '' he ever knew, Rey- 
nolds had imbibed Plato's teaching, and the theory of the 
ideal had become an artist's commonplace through the 
teaching of du Fresnoy, Dry den, Bellori, and other critics. 
Richardson, for example, believed that actual nature was 
no more fit in a picture than plain narrative in a poem. 
" Nature," he asserted, " must be the Foundation, That 
must be seen at the Bottom ; But Nature must be Rais'd ; 
and Improv'd, not only from what is Commonly seen, to 
what is but Rarely, but even yet higher, from a Judi- 
cious, and Beautiful Idea in the Painter's Mind." ^* To 
this teaching the early writers on aesthetics gave their 
approval. Charles Batteux insisted that the artist, instead 

" DUcowrsea, m, p. 31. Compare this passage with the paragraph 
from Rasselaa quoted below, and note the verbal similarities. 

** Eaaay on PcMiting, ed. 1715, p. 162. Essay on the Art of Oriti- 
oiam, ed. 1710, p. 30. 

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of copying nature, must create, from all that he has seen, 
an ideal form transcending nature.^*^ In England Alex- 
ander Gerard had taught the same in his Essay on Taste*^^ 
And, finally, Buffier believed that every species has "a 
fixed or determinate form, towards which all nature 
tends," but which no object in nature ever equals in beauty 
or perfection,^ 

Keynolds was acquainted with Plato's work, with Rich- 
ardson's treatise, and almost certainly with Buffier's and 
Harris's. It is significant, then, that he falls back for au- 
thority upon one of his literary friends. The passage just 
quoted from the third Discourse bears a striking verbal 
resemblance to the following words from Rasselas: " The 
province of poetry is to describe nature and passions, 
which are always the same," and the " business of the poet 
is to examine, not the individual, but the spebies; to re- 
mark general properties and large appearances. He does 
not number the streaks of the tulip, or describe the dif- 
ferent shades in the verdure of the forest ; he is to exhibit 
in his portraits of nature such prominent and striking 
features, as recall the original to every mind, and must 
neglect the minute discriminations." So also in his treat- 
ment of man, the poet " must divest himself of the preju- 
dices of his age and country ; he must consider right and 
wrong in their abstracted and invariable state; he must 
disregard present laws and opinions, and rise to general 
and transcendental truths, which will always be the 
same." ^® Reynolds takes these words of the philosopher, 
Imlac, as virtually the text of the third lecture. And at 
the close of the fourth, the same thought is repeated: 

* Le$ BeoAUo Arts, p. 27. 

»• Ed. 1759, pp. 63, 143. 

" TraAH dee PremUrea Y&nUSf i, chap, xin; n, f liap. xiv 

^R€M8ela8f chap. x. See above, p. 351. 

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" The works, whether of poets, painters, moralists, or his- 
torians, which are built upon general nature, live forever ; 
while those which depend for their existence upon par- 
ticular customs and habits, a partial view of nature, or the 
fluctuations of fashion, can only be coeval with that which 
first raised them from obscurity." 

For the attainment of such universal truth the eigh- 
teenth century could prescribe only rigid exclusion of un- 
essentials, careful selection of salient details, and compact 
organization. Poems were then written to expound some 
central thought Because the Traveller is built around a 
plain and sound philosophic truth, Johnson preferred it 
to the Deserted Village^ with its greater charm of detail. 
And he himself preached in the Vanity of Human Wishes 
on the same text that he later used for Rasselas. He val- 
ued the same sort of unity in painting. In BoswelFs pres- 
ence Barry once was praised because his canvases were 
designed " to illustrate one great maxim of moral truth, 
viz., that the obtaining of happiness depends upon culti- 
vating the human faculties." ^® To this type of painting 
Lord Shaftesbury had given the name tablature — "a 
single piece, comprehended in one view, and formed ac- 
cording to one single intelligence, meaning, or design." ^^ 
HjB recommended sucb concentration especially for his- 
torical painting, in which " the unity of design must with 
more particular exactness be preserved, according to the 
just rules of poetic art." Thus artists, poets, and philoso- 
phers were in substantial agreement that only by such 
unifying processes can art express and interpret the eter- 
nal aspects of life. 

In exactly the same spirit, Eeynolds insisted on sim- 

••BoBweU, IV, p. 269, n. 

^Judgment of Hercules, ed. 1714, p. 4. 

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plification and generalization.*^ " The smblime," he de- 
clared, "impresses the mind at once with one great idea ; 
it is a single blow ;'' for in matters of taste " many little 
things will not make a great one." The painter succeeds 
according to " the grandeur of his ideas." He must there- 
fore " overlook the accidental discriminations of nature," 
in order to " exhibit distinctly, and with precision, the 
general forms of things." Using almost the words of John- 
son quoted above, he concluded : " He will permit the 
lower painter, like the florist or collector of shells, to ex- 
hibit the minute discriminations, which distinguish one 
object of the same species from another ; while he, like the 
philosopher, will consider nature in the abstract, and rep- 
resent in every one of his figures the character of its spe- 

Beynolds, carrying this opinion still further, believed 
that such centralization is more necessary for the painter 
than for the poet. The painter " has but one sentence to 
utter, but one moment to exhibit." *^ He must therefore 
select that moment which expresses most forcefully the 
leading truth he sees. To depict David biting his lip as 
he hurls the stone from the sling, or Alexander as a man 
of mean stature, is for graphic art sheer falsification. The 
poet may offset such accidental or disparaging details with 
others more impressive; but the painter can depend on a 
single impression only, and must be therefore "well 
studied in the analysis of those circumstances which con- 
stitute dignity of appearance in real life." Thus the ordi- 
nary painter works under severe limitations. But the 
genius, who sees how " a greater quantity of truth may be 
said to be contained and expressed in a few lines or 

'^ Diacourseg, iv, p. 46; m, pp. 24, 35, 33. 
'^ Dieoouraet, iv, p. 40. 

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touches, than in the most laborious finishing of the parts/' 
rises above all restrictions to the comprehension of ulti- 
mate truth.^* 

Painting, consequently, like poetry, is the product of 
the mind, and great painting, of the whole mind, active in 
interpretation and expression. Indeed, Keynolds asserted 
that the value of any work of art can be measured either 
by the mental labor exacted of the creator, or by the men- 
tal pleasure experienced by the observer. Hence it is im- 
possible in the pursuit of art to neglect the study of the 
mind ; for to " those precepts in the mind, those opera- 
tions of intellectual nature . . . everything that aspires 
to please must be proportioned and accommodated." •* 

Such an assertion seems at variance with the prevalent 
idea that art is created by genius and appreciated by taste, 
and that both operate with " entire exemption from the 
restraints of rules," imcontrolled by " reason, precept, or 
experience." *' From this view Eeynolds dissented. Like 
Gerard and Blair, he distinguished genius from taste only 
in that it has " added to it a habit or power of execution." 
And although genius is commonly supposed to work in- 
tuitively, and although tastes, according to the old prov- 
erb, " are not to be disputed," Eteynolds denied that they 
are so the victims of caprice. He defined genius as " the 
comprehension of a whole," or the " taking of general 
ideas only," and taste as " that act of mind by which we 
like or dislike, whatever be the subject." Addison had 
designated taste ^^ that faculty of the soul, which discerns 
the beauties of an author with pleasure, and the imperfec- 
tions with dislike." •• Eeid, following this suggestion, 
spoke of " that power of the mind by which we are capa- 

" Ihid., XI, p. 171. ••/WA, vni, p. 120. »/Wd., vn, p. 95. 
" Ibid^ XI, p. 160. Speoiator Papen, no. 409. 

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ble of discerning and relishing the beauties of nature, and 
whatever is excellent in the fine arts." ^'^ Reynolds's 
fundamental idea, then, was strictly in accord with cur- 
rent aesthetics — taste is a power of the mind and not the 
free play of whim. 

Thus Reynolds led up to his doctrine that painting is 
an art whose " foundations are laid in solid science." 
Taste is simply a mental appreciation of truth in the rep- 
resentation of life. Where art deals with concrete, visible 
objects, the truth or falsity of that representation is ab- 
solutely demonstrable; a geometrical proof could not be 
more certain. But even where art seeks to represent 
ideas, of which no such plain demonstration can be ex- 
pected, there is still a certain degree of fixity of opinion.*® 
If the opinions represented are not fantastical, if they 
have gained a wide and lasting acceptance, taste on these 
matters, too, can be called stable or determined. Even on 
purely imaginative work opinions of men concur. For 
after all, " invention, strictly speaking, is little more than 
a new combination of those images which have been pre- 
viously gathered and deposited in the memory." The 
same idea is expressed again in a later lecture. " As the 
imagination is incapable of producing anything originally 
of itself, and can only vary and combine those ideas with 
which it is furnished by means of the senses, there will be 
necessarily an agreement in the imaginations, as in the 
senses of men."'® Hence Reynolds concluded " that the 
real substance ... of what goes under the name of taste, 
is fixed and established in the nature of things; that there 
are certain and regular causes by which the imagination 

^EBBays on the Intellectual Powers of Man, "Of l^te," 1786. 
Akenside took the same view in PleoBureB of Imagination, 1744. 
•• DiBcourseB, vn, p. 91. 
•fWd., n, p. 13; vn, pp. 107-109. 

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and passions of men are affected, and that the knowledge 
of these causes is acquired by a laborious and diligent in- 
vestigation of nature, and by the same slow progress as 
wisdom or knowledge of every kind." 

Modem philosophers had already turned their attention 
to the questions here broached by Reynolds, and in the cur- 
rent treatises on sesthetics the essential points of his argu- 
ment are found. In 1757, for example, Hume published 
Of the Standard of Taste, in which he tried to show that 
the principles of taste are universal and nearly, if not en- 
tirely, the same in all men. The general rules of art, he 
argued, are founded on experience and the observation of 
the common sentiments of human nature; even the imag- 
ination can handle only those ideas that are furnished by 
the senses. This was the accepted teaching of British em- 
piricism. Similarly, Gerard believed that the judgment, 
as well as the senses, is a determining factor in taste ; good 
sense, he asserted, is essential for good taste.*^ This opin- 
ion was accepted by Thomas Reid, who explained how our 
judgments on the beauty of objects are partly instinctive 
and partly rational, and how the rational element can be 
specified and accounted for.*^ Of these discourses on 
taste, apparently, there was at the time no end. The 
author of a paper in the Connoisseur sarcastically remark- 
ed that " taste is at present the darling idol of the polite 
world, and the world of letters " ; but he, too, accepted the 
prevailing idea that " taste consists in a nice harmony be- 
tween the fancy and the judgment." *^ 

Of all the essays on taste, however, that of Edmund 
Burke, prefixed in 1757 to the Philosophical Inquiry into 
the Origin of our Ideas of the Sublime and Beaviiful, in- 

^EBsay <m Taste, p. 105. 

^Essays on the Intellectual Powers, "Of Taste," 1786. 

•No. 120, 1766. 

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fluenced Reynolds most directly. Reynolds defined taste 
as " that act of the mind by which we like or dislike, what- 
ever be the subject." Burke applied the term to " that fac- 
ulty or those faculties of the mind, which are affected 
with, or which form a judgment of, the works of imagina- 
tion and the elegant arts." On this basis Reynolds argued 
that taste is subject to reason and judgment, and is no var- 
iable and uncertain quality. " Our art," he insisted, " like 
all the arts which address the imagination, is applied to a 
somewhat lower faculty of the mind, which approaches 
nearer to sensuality : but through sense and fancy it must 
make its way to reason ; for such is the progress of thought, 
that we perceive by sense, we combine by fancy, and dis- 
tinguish by reason." *• Burke had already argued that 
man knows external objects only through the senses, the 
imagination, and the judgment, and that through all these 
media uniform ideas are derived. The senses, first of all, 
must convey very similar impressions to all normal men. 
The same is true of the imagination, whidi " is incapable 
of producing anything absolutely new," but which " can 
only vary the disposition of those ideas which it has re- 
ceived from the senses." Consequently, he argued, " there 
must be just as close agreement in the imaginations as in 
the senses of men." Equally uniform is the judgment, 
which deals with the manners, characters, actions, and de- 
signs of men. If there be any certainty in morality and 
the science of life, there must also be uniformity here. So 
Burke and Reynolds are in perfect agreement that taste 
is not a distinct faculty, but is dependent largely on reason 
and judgment 

This short essay on taste, more directly than the Inquiry, 
determined Reynolds's thought. Certain ideas from the 

^ DttootirsM, iz^ p. 144. 

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latter work are recognized in the Discourses'^^ Reynolds, 
like Burke, grants that the poet may express his meaning 
" with a certain degree of obscurity," and calls attention to 
the same sublime traits in Milton's picture of Eve that 
Burke had noted in the portrait of Satan. Furthermore, 
Burke might have dictated the words, " I fear we have but 
very scanty means of exciting those powers over the imag- 
ination whidi are so very considerable and refined a part 
of poetry." On other matters Reynolds's opinions do not 
coincide with those of the Inquiry. Burke does not regard 
poetry as a strictly imitative art ; for " words have no sort 
of resemblance to the ideas for which they stand." Rey- 
nolds, on the contrary, ranks them both among the imita- 
tive arts. Nor would Reynolds confine painting to the 
lower sphere of the beautiful, and deny it a place with 
poetry in the realm of the sublime. He is also more chary 
than Burke in recognizing novelty as a legitimate source 
of beauty. In general, then, Reynolds seems to have gath- 
ered from Burke's sesthetics only a few general thoughts, 
which he could have acquired in conversation with his 
friends, and not the grasp of the philosophy as a whole. 
After all, he was chiefly a busy artist, believing that, " if 
we were obliged to enter into a theoretical deliberation on 
every occasion, before we act, life would be at a stand, and 
art would be impracticable." ^'^ 

It is impossible to tell how intimately Reynolds knew 
these philosophical works. In the eighth Discourse he 
remarked that " a complete essay or inquiry into the con- 
nection between the rules of art, and the external and 
immutable dispositions of our passions, would be going at 

*• Ibid., vn, p. 93 ; vm, p. 139. Inquiry, n, sects. 3-6. See also W. G. 
Howard, Burke tMiong the Forerunners of Leasing, PuhlicaiionSf 
Modem Language Aaaooiaiion, xxn, pp. 608-632. 

^Diacouraea, xm, p. 196. 

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once to the foundation of criticism." When this lecture 
was printed, the author apologized in a footnote for for- 
getting at the time the " admirable treatise " of his friend 
Burke. Hence one might infer that he had studied it but 
casually, if at all, and that he was stiU less familiar with 
the work of du Bos, Glerard, Buffier, Lord Shaftesbury, 
and others. No one, of course, would question Keynolds's 
statement that he had given careful attention to " the 
opinions of others " in the preparation of the addresses.^® 
But this view of taste, and the relation between the arts, 
and the basis of all arts, were possibly among the lessons 
chiefly learned in conversation with the willing and help- 
ful friends he gratefully mentioned. His interest in these 
problems of aesthetics, and his knowledge of them, were 
mainly owing to Burke, Johnson, Beattie, and others in his 
circle of intimate acquaintance. 

The direct influence of Johnson and Burke has been 
fully shown. From one friend Reynolds borrowed even 
the phrasing of some of his most essential thought ; from 
the other he derived ideas on taste and beauty. Johnson's 
influence was more immediate, if Northcote's testimony is 
to be credited. After giving proof of Reynolds's author- 
ship of the lectures, he tells of having seen the painter's 
manuscripts bearing corrections and suggestions in John- 
son's handwriting. This would account for some of the 
verbal correspondences noted above. Burke's influence 
was less direct. Like Johnson, he had helped to " brush 
the cobwebs " from Reynolds's mind ; but, although he fur- 
nished stimulant, he never, according to Northcote, lent a 
helping hand in the actual composition. Other influences 
came from sources more remote. Chief among them were 
the Reflexions Critiques of the Abbe du Bos, and the 

^/M(f., XV, p. 230. 

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Traits des Premieres VerUes of Claude BuflSer. Du Boa's 
work was quoted by Akenside in the first edition of Pleas-^ 
ures of Imagination in 1744, and was translated into Eng- 
lish in 1780; but before that its most original teachings 
were borrowed by Keid, Beattie, and Akenside. Thus the 
attention of Reynolds would be drawn to du Bos and Buf- 
fier ; but from both he derived only the larger thought that 
he could have learned orally from his friends. 

In one of the three papers contributed in 1759 to the 
Idler, Reynolds expounded his theory of beauty. " Every 
species of the animal as well as the vegetable creation may 
be said to have a fixed or determinate form, towards which 
^N'ature is continually inclining." In this norm resides 
the beautiful. Buffier^s idea is the same.*^ Reynolds 
then continued: " So it wiU be found that perfect beauty 
is oftener produced by Nature than deformity; I do not 
mean than deformity in general, but than any one kind of 
deformity." This theory, with the illustration of the 
human face accompanying it, comes from the apparent 
paradox of Buffier : " Beaute me semble done consister en 
ce qui est au meme temps de plus commun et de plus rare, 
dans les choses de memo espece." So beauty consists in 
the avoidance of the accidental, and the reproduction of the 
" invariable general form which Nature most frequently 
' produces, and always seems to intend in her productions." 

This conception of beauty depends directly on Buffier's 
belief in a " sens commun," which was his chief contribu- 
tion to philosophical speculation. Common sense, as he 
conceived it, is " that disposition or quality which nature 
has placed in all men, or in the majority of men, to enal)le 
them, when they have arrived at the age and use of reason, 
to form a common and uniform judgment with respect 

* IdleVf no. 82 ; Traii4 dea PremUres VMUa, chap. xm. 

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to objects different from tlie internal sentiment of their 
own perception, which judgment is not the consequence 
of any anterior principle." *® From this sense men learn 
that there are other beings in" the world, that there is some- 
thing not arbitrary called truth, and that what is gener- 
ally believed by men of all ages is true. Although the fac- 
ulty is not possessed in equal degree by all men, neverthe- 
less the great first truths, of which a taste for art is one, 
are apprehended by all normal men. 

BuflBer's assumption of a " sens commun " was adopted 
by Reid, Beattie, Hugh Blair, and other Scotch philoso- 
phers. Even before Buffier the idea had been suggested. 
In the seventeenth century Lord Herbert of Oherbury 
, developed the doctrine almost as fully as Buffier.*® Addi- 
son declared that painting, poetry, and oratory should de- 
rive their laws from the " general sense and taste of man- 
kind, and not from the principles of those arts them- 
selves." ^^ Possibly Addison, like Daniel Webb some years 
later, had in mind the words of Cicero, " All men, by a 
kind of tacit feeling, without art or science, distinguish, in 
both cases, what is right from what is wrong." '^^ Cicero 
thought it remarkable that the judgment of individuals 
on works of art should vary so little. So again Reynolds 
was simply voicing a common sentiment when he said: 
" The principles of these are as invariable as the former, 
and are to be known and reasoned upon in the same man- 
ner, by an appeal to common sense deciding upon the 
common feelings of mankind." ^^ 

*■ Ihid,f chap. V. 
*De Veritaie, ed. 1624, p. 2. 
'^Spectator Papers, no. 29, 1711. 

" De Oratare, i, 3, c. 196, 197. Inquiry into the Beauties of Paint- 
ing, p. 17. 
^ Discoursee, vn, p. 107. 

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Because Reynolds dealt mainly with these broad aesthet- 
ical theories, it is hard to mark positively the sources from 
which he drew. For example, one might take the painter's 
assertion liiat the mind's " search after truth in the more 
serious duties of life '^ rests upon the same basis as the 
taste for beauty in man's '^ lighter amusements/' and find 
in it proof of Lord Shaftesbury's influence. But Aken-' 
side, also, had proclaimed, on the authority of Socrates, 
the interrelation of beauty and truth. ^* Or again, Rey- 
nolds's disparagement of coloring might be related to the 
statement of Lord Shaftesbury : " The pleasure [from 
colors] is plainly foreign and separate. ... It is always 
best, when the colours are most subdued, and made sub- 
servient." *** But such correspondences hardly indicate 
direct borrowing; many of them are natural to the subject 
or characteristic of the age. Reynolds asserted, " What 
has pleased, and continues to please, is likely to please 
again." Several years later Hugh Blair ended his chap- 
ter on taste with these words translated from the Latin: 
" Time overthrows the illusions of opinion, but estab- 
lishes the decisions of nature." But through what chan- 
nels the thought came to the two men no one can deter- 
mine, or need determine. If such testimony be valid, a 
hundred citations could be made to convict Iteynolds of 
widespread plagiarism. 

Significantly, however, the painter's friends thought 
more highly of the originality of the Discourses. Dr. Beat- 
tie wrote in his diary : " This day I had a great deal of 
conversation with Sir Joshua Reynolds, on critical and 
philosophical subjects. I find him to be a man, not only 
of excellent taste in painting and poetry, but of an en- 

'^ Pleasures of Imagination, i, p. 375, n., 1744. 
^ Judgment of Hercules, last page. 

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larged understanding, and truly philosophical mind. His 
notions of painting are not at all the same with those 
that are entertained by the generality of painters and 
critics." ^^ Evidently, Beattie did not accuse Eeynolds 
of pilfering from his work. Nor could Burke have re- 
garded Eeynolds as a common borrower when he wrote to 
Malone: " He was a great generalizer, and was fond of 
reducing everything to one system, more, perhaps, than 
the variety of principles which operate in the human 
mind, and in every human work, will properly endure." 
Burke, who knew Reynolds best, was doubtless right. 
The Discourses seem to be the work of a thinker prone to 
generalize. Burke attributed this habit partly to Rey- 
nolds's nature and partly to the influence of Mudge, who 
taught Reynolds Plato and encouraged a love for specula- 
tion. Hence Reynolds was naturally interested in all that 
he heard or read of Lord Shaftesbury, du Bos, and Buf- 
fier, and entered eagerly into conversation with Johnson, 
Burke, Beattie, and otiier men of letters who were con- 
cerned with the general problems of art. But Reynolds 
never professed to speak with authority on deep problems 
of philosophy. " Perhaps the most perfect criticism," he 
modestly admitted, "requires habits of speculation and 
abstraction, not very consistent with the employment 
which ought to occupy and the habits which ought to pre- 
vail in a practical artist." ^^ Away from his easel, Rey- 
nolds was habitually so deferential toward others that it 
is easy to speak slightingly of the Discourses. Philoso- 
phers of his own time, however, were apt to praise them. 
Beattie quoted at length from two of the addresses, and 
Dugald Stewart cited with commendation several of the 

" Quoted from the biography by Sir William Forbes, p. 358. 
■• Diacouraea, xni, p. 196. 

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painter's theories. These were not essentially new to the 
author. They were the broad, well-established ideas that 
philosophy and criticism then stressed. Reynolds's first 
interest in them was due to his friends in London, but 
he handled them as his own. The Discourses express the 
convictions of a broad and philosophic mind. 

Inconsistencies in Reynolds's statements can easily be de- 
tected; for the first paper in the Idler appeared in 1759, 
and the last address was delivered in 1790. Moreover, 
the artist did not always practise what he preached. 
Nevertheless, there is a general uniformity in his teach- 
ing. '^^ He insists ever on obedience to the " higher tribu- 
nal [reason], to which those great masters themselves must 
submit, and to which indeed every excellence in art must 
be ultimately referred." The painter may resort to the 
various devices known to dramatists and poets — contrast, 
novelty, simplicity, repose. But he must remember that 
no trick can be safely carried to excess, and that reason 
must dominate all. This reason prescribes to the painter 
an ideal beauty. " The beauty of which we are in quest 
is general and intellectual ; it is an idea that subsists only 
in the rain J ;. the sight never beheld it, nor has the hand 
expressed it ; it is an idea residing in the breast of the art- 
ist, which he is always labouring to impart, and which he 
dies at last without imparting." The same holds of other 
arts. Their first aim may be to gratify the senses; but 
no art can rest content there. They are forced on to *' the 
idea of general beauty and the contemplation of general 
truth." Art deals with matter higher than can be found in 
actual nature, and to that level the mind must be raised. 
The arts, so conceived and so executed, will " raise the 
thoughts and extend the views of the spectator." Thus 

Tbid,, vm, p. 119; IX, pp. 143-144. 

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the effects of art "may extend themselves imperceptibly 
into public benefits^ and be among the means of bestowing 
on whole nations refinement of taste ; which, if it does not 
lead directly to purity of manners, obviates at least their 
greatest depravation, by disentangling the mind from ap- 
petite, and conducting the thoughts through successive 
stages of excellence, till that contemplation of universal 
rectitude and harmony which began by Taste, may, as it 
is exalted and refined, conclude in Virtue." 

Elbebt N. S. Thompson. 

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There is a fairly general agreement among the critics 
that the First Part of Henry the Sixth was not originally 
written by Shakespeare, but was revised by him, that it 
is the play which Henslowe recorded as " new " on March 
3, 1591/2, and frequently enough thereafter to attest that 
it was one of the most popular pieces of the day, and that 
it was this same popular piece to which Nashe referred 
in the always quoted passage in Pierce Penilesse (1592) : 
" How would it have ioyed braue Talbot (the terror of the 
French), to think that after he had lyen two hundred 
yeare in his Toomb, he should triumph againe on the 
Stage and haue his bones new embalmed with the teares 
of ten thousand spectators at least (at several times) who 
in the Tragedian that represents his person imagine they 
behold him fresh bleeding." There seems no sufficient rea- 
son for doubting these natural conjectures. The play was 
included in the First Folio, which indicates that it was 
at least in part Shakespeare's work ; it was not mentioned 
by Meres, which seems to imply that it was not fundamen- 
tally his ; ^ it was acted by Lord Strange's company, which 
would accord with its being revised rather than originally 
written by Shakespeare.* It is such a play as, judging by 
the other notable successes of the time, would be im- 
mensely popular; and it answers perfectly to Nashe's 

It is further agreed, though with less unanimity among 

*See " The Authorship of Tiiua Andronieus," FlUgel Memorial Vol- 
ume, p. 115. 
•/Wd., p. 123, n. 


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the critics, that Shakespeare's hand may be found in the 
Temple Garden scene (II, iv), where the plucking of the 
red and white roses marks the beginning of the struggle 
between Richard Plantagenet and Somerset; in the scene 
following, where the historical situation is elaborately 
stated for the formal instruction of the audience ; in some 
of the Talbot scenes (IV, ii-vii), and perhaps in the woo- 
ing of Margaret (V, iii). The rest of the play is most 
often assigned to Greene, with traces of Peele, Nashe, and 
even of Marlowe here and there. The evidence is based, 
as is customary, upon the individual critic's perception of 
Shakespeare's superior genius, and upon the detection of 
certain words and phrases which are found in Greene or 
some one of the others, but not elsewhere in Shakespeare. 
The use of double endings and other tests are less fre- 
quently applied. 

Though my belief in the cogency of these tests is always 
most tentative, I do not by any means feel that they can 
be wholly ignored. Like all statistics, they present an ap- 
pearance of scientific accuracy, and hence are particularly 
dangerous in the hands of a clever manipulator. The most 
abused of all is the "parallel passage" test, which in- 
cludes the once-used word and reminiscent phrase; for 
here we have often an array of factitious evidence based 
on a tenuous hypothesis.^ The most reliable of the tests 

" I quote from Mr. H. C. Hart's Arden Edition of the play before 
us the first four reminders of Spenser which he finds. Of course 
these are not to show Spenser's authorship but his influence, since 
Spenser is naturaUy not a candidate; but let the reader compare 
these with the first four in any list by which Greene's authorship of 
one play or another has been " established " : 

I, i, 11-13: His arms spread wider than a dragon's wings; His 
sparkling eyes replete with wrathful fire More daezled and drove 
hOfOk his enemies. Compare with Faerie Queene, I, xi, 14-18: "His 
blazing eyes, like two bright shining shields, Did burne with wrath 

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Shakespeare's contbibution to 1 henby vi 369 

seems to me that of the double ending, for the difference 
between Shakespeare and the others is here very great, 
and personal opinion cannot alter it. Greene in the five 
plays known to be his has a sum total of thirty-five double 
endings; Shakespeare in his first five plays has over 
twelve hundred. Peele never rises as high as three per 
cent, in any play, taken in its entirety, and Marlowe never 
as high as four per cent. ; when, therefore, we find twenty- 
three per cent, in the Temple Garden scene, and seven- 
teen per cent, in the Talbot scenes (IV, ii-iv), and at the 
same time the tone and manner of Shakespeare, we do 
not guess, but we know (humanly speaking) that these 
scenes are his.* 

and sparkled living fyre. As two broad Beacons . . . warning give 
that enemies conspyre. ... So flamed his eyne with rage and rancor- 
ous yre. . . . Then with his waving wings displayed wyde." 

I, i, 64: burst his lead and rise from death. Compare with Shep- 
heards Calendar, June: " Nowe dead he is and lyeth wrapt in lead." 
And idem, October: ** all the worthies liggen wrapt in leade." 

I, i, 104: laments . . . bedew King Henry's hearse. Compare 
Faerie Queene, III, i, 16: "they did lament . . . And all the while 
salt teares bedeawd the hearers cheaks." 

I, i, 124: Here, there, and everywhere, enrag*d he flew. Compare 
Fcterie Queene, III, i, 66: "Wherewith enrag'd she fiercely at them 
flew . . . Here, there, and everywhere, about her swayd Her wrath- 
ful Steele." 

^An indication of authorship which I have not seen mentioned 
might perhaps be found in Shakespeare's remarkable adjective group- 
ings. Thus we have: 

" Shall lay your stately and air-braving towers " 
" Thou ominous and fearful owl of death " 
" Lo, there thou stand'st, a breathing valient man " 
" Shall see thee withered, bloody, pale, and dead " 
" O, negligent and heedless discipline " 
" But rather, moody -mad and desperate stags " 
— all these in a scene of fifty-six lines ( IV, ii ) . I have never found 
in Greene or Peele a grouping of words which requires of us a sudden 
expansion of the imagination, — of adjectives each appropriate but 

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With this nucleus before us, we have a clear lead for 
determiniiig what else in this drama Shakespeare must 
have written. Of course the absence of double endings 
does not in the least coimt against his authorship^ as their 
presence in profusion implies it; for Shakespeare's habit 
in this particular varies. The opening scene of the Gomr 
edy of Errors has less than three per cent, of double 
endings, and the scene following has twenty-one per cent. 
The first act of King John has over twelve per cent., while 
the other acts range from two to four per cent. It will 
be evident to anyone at a glance that there is reason for 
this. In the former case, Aegeon's narrative is much 
more formal than what follows, just as in the latter case 
the Bastard's lively impudence contrasts with the re- 
mainder of the tragedy. When we turn, therefore, from 
the plucking of the roses in the Temple Garden to the 
recitative explanations and exhortations of the dying Mor- 
timer, we come upon a Shakespearean scene where the 
double endings are few. But that this scene belongs to 
Shakespeare has been the opinion of most critics, and the 
proof of it, in want of any indication to the contrary, lies 
in the fact that it depends upon the Temple Garden scene, 
to which it makes a direct reference.* 

not belonging together until combined in a line of great poetry. 

" — why the sepulchre . . . 
Hath oped his ponderous and marble jaws" 
gives us this perfect combination of dissimilars; but when in the 
play before us we read 
"This speedy and quick appearance argues proof" (V, iii, 8), 

we have a combination of words which it is not at all necessary to 
attribute to Shakespeare! 
* The scanning here of Henry as a trisyllable required in the line 
" Long after this, when Henry the Fifth " (II, iv, 82) 

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What else is there in this play which depends upon the 
scenes which we have found to be Shakespeare's ? There 
is not the least difficulty in discovering the answer to this 
question. In the Temple Garden scene, Vernon is one of 
those who pluck a white rose with Plantagenet; in act 
III, scene iv, and in act IV, scene i, we find Vernon con- 
tinuing this quarrel of the roses with Basset, a follower 
of Somerset. Basset does not appear in the Temple Gar- 
den scene, but it is Shakespeare's way to carry a discus- 
sion down and on in this manner. Do these new portions 

suggests another interesting test which has been too often overlooked 
Though this is not Shakespeare's usual way, still he has the line 

" So stood the state when Henry the Sixth " 
in Richard III (II, iii, 16), and the same pronunciation of the name 
is frequently required in the second and third parts of Henry VI, as 
it is in both parts of the Contention. Note, for example : 
" Crowned by the name of Henry the Fourth " {2 Henry VI, II, ii, 23) 

" Resigned the crown to Henry the Fourth " {S Henry VI, I, i, 1390) . 
Sometimes both pronunciations occur in the same passage: 
" You told not how Henry the Sixth hath lost 
All that which Henry the Fifth had gotten ** 

(5 Henry VI, HI, iii, 89, 9). 
In the present play we have the line 

"O my good lords and virtuous Henry" (III, i, 76) 
which would tell against the claim of any dramatist who used the 
name frequently and always as a dissyllable. But such a test, if it 
should count at all, must be used with extreme caution. In this play, 
Gloucester is scanned as a trisyllable in act I, scene iii (four times). 
Peele has the name twenty times in Edward I, and always with only 
two syllables; his claim to I, iii, which was made for him by Fleay, 
would therefore look doubtful. But Marlowe has tmperess ten times 
in Tttmhurlaine to emj^reae four times, and emperess occurs frequently 
in the non-Shakespearean portions of Titus Andronicua; yet it would 
be most hasty to suspect Marlowe on this count. Shakespeare has 
children over a hundred times as a dissyllable, and as a trisyUable 
just once {Errors, V, i, 360). Often such words may be scanned in 
either way. 


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seem to be in Shakespeare's style? The first is a brief 
bit, not particularly characteristic, though there is nothing 
in it which suggests that it could not be his ; the second 
bears the strongest evidence of Shakespeare's work. ® The 
King is here the same King Henry that we find in the 
additions to the second and third parts of Henry VI, and 
that we find nowhere else in this drama.^ But what is 
most important is that it is in this scene that Shakespeare 
gives us the clue by whidi we may discover the extent and 
the significance of his contribution to the play. This clue 
is contained in King Henry's lines: 

That for a toy, a thing of no regard. 
King Henry's peers and chief nobility 
Destroyed themselves and lost the realm of France (IV, i, 145-8). 

We find this same attitude elsewhere in Shakespeare, no- 
tably in the closing lines of King John: 

This England never did, nor never shall 

Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, 

But when it first did help to wound itself. 

Now these her princes are come home again. 

Come the three comers of the world in arms, 

And we shall shock them. Nought shall make us rue, 

If England to itself do rest but true. 

Now if Shakespeare's revision of the play is to be found 
in a series of scenes which are wholly devoted to t3ie work- 
ing out of an idea, and that idea is itself eminently char- 

• I note the following adjective groupings, which I offer for exactly 
what they are worth and no more: 

" With other vile and ignominious terms " 

"For though he seem with forged quaint conceit 

To set a gloss upon his bold intent " 
" When for so slight and frivolous a cause " 
" With this immodest clamorous outrage '* 
" In France, amongst a fickle, wavering nation " 

* Unless momentarily in act III, scene i. 

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acteristic of Shakespeare, the assumption seems to me 
unescapable that these scenes were written — ^not revised — 
by him, and that by incorporating this idea he sought to 
give an essential unity and significance to the old drama. 
For it should not be forgotten — as it too often is — ^that 
what would appeal to a man like Henslowe when he had 
one of his plays revised, was not that the crumpled lines 
should be ironed out nor yet that some of the scenes should 
be decorated with all the graces of a Shakespeare's style, 
but that new features should be added, — ^new episodes, new 
ideas, even, — so that in reviving the play he could adver- 
tise it as something essentially different from what it was 

Shakespeare's contribution to 1 Henry YI, so far as we 
have now followed it, consists, then, of II, iv, where the 
quarrel of the roses is first introduced, II, v, where Mor- 
timer gives the historical background of this quarrel, 
III, iv, from line 28 on, and IV, i, from line 78 to the 
end of the scene, wherein the quarrel has spread farther 
among the followers of these hostile lords, and the King 
shows the far-reaching evils which were destined to result 
from it. The next three scenes, which have already by 
common consent been assigned to Shakespeare, show the 
defeat of Talbot as directly due to the quarrel between 
Somerset and Richard Plantagenet, now Duke of York. 
York puts the blame on Somerset: 

A plague upon that vinain Somerset, 

That thus delays my promised supply 

Of horsemen, that were levied for this siege! . . . 

We mourn, France smiles; we lose, they daily get; 

AU long of this vile traitor Somerset. 

Somerset, in turn, puts the blame on York : 

This expedition was hy York and Talbot 
Too rashly plotted. . . . 

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York set him on to fight and die in shame, 

That, Talbot dead, great York might bear the name. 

And Sir "William Lucy, who goes as messenger to each in 
turn, places the blame on both: 

Thus, while the vulture of sedition 

Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders, 

Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss 

The conquest of our scarce cold conqueror. 

That ever living man of memory, 

Henry the Fifth. Whiles they each other cross. 

Lives, honours, lands, and all hurry to loss.- 

There is no reason why the remaining Talbot scenes, 
which are written almost wholly in couplets, should be by 
Shakespeare. The death of Talbot was an essential part of 
the old play ; and even if these couplets were written by 
a later hand, there is not the slightest indication that that 
hand was Shakespeare's. 

There is another quarrel of the fiobles in this play — 
that between Gloucester and Winchester. It begins in the 
opening scene, is continued in scene iii, then jumps to 
act III, scene i, and there ends — except for an " aside " 
of Winchester at the close of V, i. Though so much is 
made of this quarrel, and its dire effects upon England 
are hinted at, yet the play shows no evil results arising 
from this dissention. The King effects a mere nominal 
reconciliation between the two, and Exeter predicts ter- 
rible things to follow, but nothing happens. In the scenes 
relating to this quarrel I find some evidence of Shake- 
speare's work. In the two important scenes which show 
the beginning of the quarrel and its culmination (I, i, and 
III, i), there is a certain eloquence and majesty for which 
one will look in vain through the pages of Greene and 
Peele. There is something Marlowesque in the opening 
lines and in other bits ; but I think that Marlowe himself 

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SJBAKESPEABe's contribution to 1 HBNBY VI 876 

cannot be read into this drama. The Shakespearean tone 
shows most plainly in the opening forty lines of act III. 
I confess that I was puzzled and annoyed that Shake- 
speare's language and his meter should so manifestly ob- 
trude themselves in a scene which I had not the faintest 
desire to give to him, and which, indeed, soon grew quite 
away from him. But my case was hopeless. Starting with 
the scene as Shakespeare's, it would not remain his; and 
turning from the close of it back to the opening, it was at 
once and unmistakably his again. 

Now I hold that it is not sufficient for one who concerns 
himself with matters of this sort to announce that here or 
there the hand of Shakespeare is apparent, and not be 
troubled as to what bearing this may have upon his rela- 
tion to the play in its entirety.® We have seen that Shake- 
peare's contribution to this drama, where it is most evi- 
dent, consists in the complete working out of a single idea ; 
that this idea is one which finds expression in his later 
work; and no one will deny that in most of the scenes 
there is not the faintest evidence of his workmanship. He 
may have taken the trouble to straighten out some of the 
lines or remove some of the crudities ;. of that we can know 
nothing. It is certain that he left much that was crude 
and raw, I presume because it was theatrically effective.® 

• In Mr. Hart's edition, to which I have already referred, he atatea 
of act I, scene iv : " This scene is by Shakespeare. Nashe seems to 
have assisted" (Introduction, p. xv). Now since Nashe was not 
Mr. Bernard Shaw, his complimentary allusion to the play prac- 
tically rules him out from any claim to part authorship in it; and 
there is no particular evidence of him anyway, so far as I can see. 
Of Shakespeare in this scene I am able to find no trace in any par- 
ticular. I resent being told without qualification and without argu- 
ment that it is Shakespeare's. 

*It may be argued that this indicates collaboration rather than 
revision; but revision is precisely what is evident in the very scenes 
I am now considering. 

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Now if we venture an opinion that Shakespeare revised 
the opening scenes of the first and third acts, we must ask 
ourselves whether there is any particular reason why this 
should be the case. 

It was natural enough that Shakespeare should begin 
his revision at llie beginning of the piece, rewriting and 
correcting for a scene or two. In the (^pening scene he 
found the beginning of the quarrel between Winchester 
and Gloucester, and at once, unless this was a part of the 
original drama, related it to the loss of the French cities 
which the Messenger reports: 

Emeter. How were they lost? What treachery was used? 

l9t MesBenger: No treachery, but want of men and money. 

Amongst the soldiers this is muttered. 

That here you maintain several factions. 

And whilst a field should be dispatched and fought, 

You are disputing of your generals. . . . 

But the crucial scene of this quarrel is act III, scene i ; 
and Shakespeare, I believe, intended to make this scene 
his own, for the first part of it is in his best style of this 
period. Who can doubt the authorship of Winchester's 
opening speech? — 

Com'st thou with deep premeditated lines. 

With written pamphlets studiously devised, 

Humphrey of Gloucester? If thou canst accuse, 

Or aug^t intend'st to lay unto my charge, 

Do it without invention, suddenly; 

As I with sudden and extemporal speech 

Purpose to answer what thou canst object. 

But in this scene the King effects a reconciliation between 
these quarreling lords. I think I detect Shakespeare's 
hand again, in the lines which save this quarrel for later 

Winche$ter, Well, Duke of Gloucester, I will yield to thee; 
Love for thy love and hand for hand I give. 

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Gloucester [Aside]. Ay, but I fear me, with a hollow heart. — 

See here, my friends and loving countrymen. 

This token serveth for a flag of truce 

Betwixt ourselves and all our followers. 

So help me €rod, as I dissemble not! 

Win. [Aside]. So help me €rod, as I intend it not! 

But (if I read the evidence of the text aright) Shake- 
speare soon saw that nothing could really be done with 
this dispute between the King's uncle, who was the Lord 
Protector, and his great^uncle, the Cardinal. These char- 
acters were introduced throughout the rest of the play in 
a way that allowed for no new development of the action ; 
nor did Holinshed provide him with any material to in- 

But a quarrel between Somerset and Richard Plantage- 
net, who later in the play becomes regent of France, was 
possible ; for in Holinshed we read that the Duke of York 
" so disdeined of Edmund, duke of Summerset ^^ (being 
cousine to the King,) that by all meanes possible he sought 
his hinderance, as one glad of his losse, and sorie of his 
well dooing: by reason whereof, yer the. duke of Yorke 
could get his dispatch, Paris and diuerse other of the 
cheefest places in France were gotten by the French 
king." ^^ Holinshed records more of the hostility of these 
two nobles and of their accusing each other of treason; ^^ 
though he gives no source for the Temple Garden scene 
and the subsequent quarrel between Vernon and Basset, 
nor does he connect any quarrel of the nobles with the 
death of Talbot. 

If, then, Shakespeare abandoned the quarrel between 
Winchester and Gloucester in favor of one between York 

^ Boswell-Stone shows that Edmund not John Beaufort is referred 
to {8Kak8per^B HoUnahed, p. 218). 
" Jhid., p. 252. " Ihid,, p. 287. 

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and Somerset, which he worked out in the way I have al- 
ready indicated, we may see not only the exact limits of 
his contribution to this drama, but also just what his 
method of work was when he was given this play to re- 
vise. This method does not at all correspond with that 
which he is commonly supposed to have employed in re- 
vising the second and third parts of Henry VI; but of 
that I trust I shall have something to say at a later time. 

The only other scene in this play which has been fre- 
quently attributed to Shakespeare, is that of the wooing 
of Margaret. This episode is structurally imrelated to tibe 
Shakespearean portions, but it also has distinctly the ap- 
pearance of being the work of a reviser rather than of the 
original writer of the drama. Wfe must examine the evi- 

The arguments in favor of Shakespeare's authorship 
are (1) that it is not unworthy of him, and (2) that this 
episode is what gives a unity to the Henry VI trilogy, 
Shakespeare, as the creator of the Margaret of S and S 
Henry VI and Richard III, here introducing her and 
" making her his own." This latter argument appears to 
me negligible because it implies Shakespeare's authorship 
of the " Contention " dramas on which £ and 3 Henry VI 
were based, and some consistency in the character of Mar- 
garet herself. No one claims the former ; and anyone can 
see that the coy Margaret of 1 Henry VI bears no resem- 
blance to the stormy Queen who finally looms so malignant 
a force in Shakespeare's Richard III. The girl was not 
mother to the woman in this case. 

Now the Margaret story involves the first and last scenes 
of act V, as well as the actual wooing in scene iii ; and we 
note that the King in these scenes is not at all like Shake- 
speare's King Henry. The wooing scene itself does not 
seem to me at all in Shakespeare's manner; and though 

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good enough, perhaps, is by no means beyond the power 
of the man who wrote the Margaret scenes in Friar Bacon 
and Friar Bungay. Indeed it has the same loitering in- 
directness which is characteristic of Greene in every play 
he wrote. Strongly reminiscent of James IV are Suffolk's 
introspective asides: 

Fond man, remembet that thou hast a wife; 
Then how can Margaret be thy paramour? . . . 
There all is marred; there lies a cooling card." . . . 
And yet a dispensation may be had. 

The lines: 

She's beautiful and therefore to be wooed; 
She is a woman, therefore to be won, 

occur, with variations, five times in Greene, and once in a 
non-Shakespearean passage in TUils Andronicus. I can 
find nothing in the scene which strongly suggests Shake- 

Should Greene be credited with more than the three 
scenes I have indicated ? His manner and particularly his 
diction have been pointed out by various critics in almost 
every scene of the play, with the customary straining of 
this much abused " test." It should be noted, however, 
that there is a fundamental discrepancy in the play which 
is not removed by taking away the portions which I have 
now assigned to Shakespeare and to Greene. The drama 
as we see it with these complications and certain other 
scenes to be considered later set aside, is a crude but vig- 
orous chronicle of disputes and broils designed to please 
an honest fight-loving audience. It runs as follows: 1. 
The English learn of the loss of French cities and agree 
to regain them. Winchester quarrels with Gloucester. 2. 
The English win. " Joan la Pucelle '' comes to the aid 

"''Not again in Shakespeare. . . Greene made it a sort of hall- 
mark of his work" (Hart, p. xix). 

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of the French and establishes her claim tb be snpemat- 
urally aided. 3. Gloucester's serving-men in blue coats 
and Winchester's men in tawny coats have a lively row 
which the Mayor of London pacifies. 4. Talbot and Salis- 
bury before Orleans. Salisbury is shot from the wall and 
killed. 6. Talbot fights with Joan. She abruptly leaves 
him to "go victual Orleans/' and enters the town with 
soldiers. 6. The French, with Joan to help them, are vic- 
torious. 7. Talbot retakes Orleans. The French leap over 
the walls in their shirts and nm away. 8. Winchester and 
Gloucester quarrel again, and their men enter in skirmish 
with bloody pates. The King makes them agree to be 
friends. 9. Joan in disguise, with four soldiers, takes 
Rouen by strategem, and taunts Talbot and the others 
from the wall. The English reenter the town. Sir John 
Fastolfe runs away. Bedford dies contented when he sees 
the English are victorious. 10. Joan wins over the Duke 
of Burgundy. 11. The King praises Talbot and makes 
him Earl of Shrewsbury. 12. The King is crowned in 
France, the Governor of Paris taking oath. Talbot shames 
Fastolfe for his cowardice. They learn of Burgundy's re- 
volt and the King sends Talbot after him. 13. Talbot and 
his son are killed. Sir William Lucy is permitted to take 
away their bodies. 14. The French expect to win, now 
that Talbot is slain. 15. But the English capture Joan 
and send her off to execution. 16. The French come to ask 
on what conditions they may have peace. They are told : 

That, in regard King Henry gives consent, 
Of mere compassion and of lenity. 
To ease your country of distressful war, 
And suffer you to breathe in fruitful peace. 
You shall become true liegemen to his crown; 
And, Charles, upon condition thou wilt swear 
To pay him tribute and submit thyself, 
Thou shalt be placed as viceroy under him, 
And still enjoy thy regal dignity. 

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After some hesitation, Charles and his party give signs 
of fealty. 

Surely here was entertainment at which Christopher 
Sly would never have dozed off. A Shakespeare who made 
away with such good stuff as this would never be en- 
trusted to revise another play. Now all these scenes which 
I have here set down as belonging to what appears to me 
the original draft of *^ harey vj," treat Joan of Arc with 
a fair amount of dignity and respect, and they always 
give her the name of Joan la Pucelle, or simply Pucelle. 
The word is regarded obviously as a proper noun: 

ExceUent PuceUe, if thy name be so (i, ii, 110). 

Hius Joan la Pucelle hath performed her word (i, vi, 3). 

Speak, Pucelle, and enchant him with thy words (m, iii, 40). 

But in act V, scene iv, where she is shovm as contemptible 
and vile, she is called Joan of Arc, though " la Pucelle " 
is always retained in the stage directions. This is the form 
which occurs again in the scene where Talbot is invited 
to visit the Countess of Auvergne ; and this episode of the 
Countess is the first place in which we distinctly feel the 
presence of a new hand at work. There is no warrant in 
the early part of the drama for the later outrageous treat- 
ment of Joan of Arc. 

Was Oreene the reviser or collaborator who is respon- 
sible for this horror ? There is nothing improbable about 
it, and there are one or two things which seem to make it 
likely. Before her shameless and disgusting confession 
Joan repudiates her peasant father as casting a slur upon 
her '* noble birth " in- very much the same way that Eada- 
gon repudiates his peasant father in A Looking-Olass for 
London and England.^^ The contributory scene where 

^ For a proof that this scene is by Oreene and not by Lodge, see 
my " Greene as a Collaborator " in Modem Language Notes, Decem- 
ber, 1915. 

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Joan is deserted by her "fiends," who walk about and 
shake their heads, is for all the world in Greene's man- 
ner ; ^*^ and the episode of the Countess has his characteris- 
tic " smartiness " in the turning of the tables. 

But unless he was responsible for the sentimental cou- 
plets in the Talbot scenes (IV, v-vii), which he was both 
natural enough a poet and artificial enough a dramatist 
to have done, this seems to mark the extent of his connec- 
tion with this drama. The fundamental scheme of l3ie 
play as outlined above is quite unlike him; and there is 
every reason to assume that the man who wrote the " Pu- 
celle " scenes did not write the " Joan of Arc '' scenes, 
as we may call them for convenience. 

Who this original author may have been, it seems to me 
almost impossible to determine. Somewhat to my regret, 
I do not find the slightest indication that it was Peele. 
Any of a dozen men whose names we have never heard of 
might have done it, for all that we can tell. Perhaps the 
reminders of Greene which, various critics have noted 
throughout the play are sufficient to warrant the assump- 
tion that he made a thorough revision of the whole piece. 
If he did so, and if even then the play was given to 
Shakespeare for additional improvements, I think that 
every feature of the play as it now stands would be well 
accounted for. And if this happened shortly after Greene 
had himself revised Shakespeare's Titus Andronicua 
(which is my personal conviction), we have a sufficient 
explanation of his jealous hostility. 

Henry David Gray. 

" In each of Greene's plays there is some introduction of the super- 
natural. He has devils in Friar Bacon and the Loohmg-Olass, fairies 
and antics in James IV, Venus and the Muses in Alphonsus, and a 
dance of Satyrs in Orlando, The minister who acted the pinner's 
part himself did not introduce this element in Oeorge-a-Oreene. 

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Viewed from any angle Shakespeare's Troilus and Cres- 
sida is an unattractive play. The heroine is a wanton. 
Ulysses reads her at a glance and finds 

language in her eye, her cheek, her lip. 
Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton spirits look out 
At every joint and motive of her body.* 

He sets her down at once as " a daughter of the game/' 
and at every opportunity the foul-mouthed Thersites cor- 
roborates this description. ** They say Diomedes keeps a 
Trojan drab," he monologizes, " and uses the traitor 
Calchas his tent. I'll after ; " ^ and in the rather awkward 
scene in which Cressida's perfidy is revealed to Troilus, 
he gleefully whispers : *^ Any man may sing her, if he can 
take her cliff. She's noted." * Even in this scene, however, 
Shakespeare is not devoid of sympathy ; Cressida's qualms 
of conscience as she pins on Diomedes the sleeve Troilus 
had given her, as she feels herself yielding, are touching. 
Yet Cressida is a woman of loose morals, and Troilus him- 
self, though irreproachable as a warrior, in his relations 
with her hardly warrants one's sympathy. There is no 
mistaking the sensuality of his desires when for the first 
time he is to meet her alone : 

I am giddy; expectation whirls me round. 
The imaginary relish is so sweet 
That it enchants my sense: what will it be. 
When that the watery palates taste indeed, 
Love's thrice repured nectar T* 

* IV, V, 54 ff. • V, ii, 10. 

»v, i, 104. *ni, ii, 19 ff. 


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Cressida^ too, knows what to expect from the visit 
Pandams describes her as blushing and fetching her 
"wind so short, as if she were afraid with a sprite;." ^ 
but it is to be feared that her agitation arose less from 
modesty and timidity than from a sense of elation at hav- 
ing at last caught a lover of exalted rank. She is not at 
all shocked by her uncle's disgustingly coarse jests nor by 
his efforts to hurry the assignation. Of course Eliza« 
bethan audiences were not repelled by such scenes, and 
Shakespeare himself saw no particular moral significance 
in them, as is proved by the plots of All's Well and Meas- 
ure for Measure; nevertheless, there is no other scene 
in all his plays so frankly sensuous as this. Nothing can 
be more different than his treatment and Chaucer's of the 
morning after the lovers' meeting. In Chaucer one thinks 
lof the ardent devotion of the lovers ; in Troilus and Cres- 
sida the details are so coarsened that one thinks only of 
the animal nature of their love. In the play Pandarus has 
been joking boisterously with Cressida (an incident bor- 
rowed from Chaucer, although in the poem Troilus is not 
present during this scene), when a knock is heard at the 
door. After the conversation that then takes place (IV, 
ii, 36-40), Troilus may protest as much as he wishes about 
the purity of his love for Cressida, but we cannot help feel- 
ing that his animal nature is most deeply stirred by her 

Since its surreptitious publication in 1609 and its ad- 
mission, apparently as an afterthought, into the First Fo- 
lio, Troilus and Cressida has always been a puzzle. It 
seems hardly necessary to enumerate the widely divergent 
theories that have been advanced to explain Shakespeare's 
purpose in writing the play. The two most striking theo- 
ries, that the play was Shakespeare's contribution to the 

•in, ii, 32. 

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war of the theatres and that it was a deliberate vulgariza- 
tion of the Greek and Trojan heroes and of Cressida 
caused by Shakespeare's jealousy of the rival poet, Chap- 
man, are not now generally believed. But a peculiar view 
is still held by almost all critics. A Chaucerian scholar's 
comment will serve as well as any : Shakespeare has ap- ' 
preached the love story ^' in a spirit of bitter cynicism and 
blackest pessimism. The love story ... is merely dis- 
gusting ... To crown all, the final worthlessness of 
Cressida, and the breaking heart of Troilus, are inter- 
preted to us by the syphilitic mind of Thersites, whose 
whole function in the play is to defile with the foulness of 
his own imagination all that humanity holds high and 
sacred. ... It remains one of the puzzles of criticism that 
such a work should ever have proceeded from the great 
soul of Shakespeare." • 

Is this true? Did Shakespeare himself debase the 
story ? Does he pursue Cressida, as other critics have said, 
with relentless hatred? Dr. Small briefly hinted at the 
reason for the loose character of Shakespeare's Cressida,'' 
but Professor Tatlock, almost alone among editors and ' 
commentators, has, I think, correctly analyzed the play. ! 
He writes : " Shakespeare came to the material of this play, 
then, precisely as he came to that of the English historical 
plays, finding incidents and characters largely fixed before- 
hand, and too intractable to be greatly modified, even had 
he wished to modify them. It is as a historical play, in ^ 
the Elizabethan sense, that it should be regarded; often 
serious, sometimes verging on the tragic, but pervaded 
with comedy." ® 

• R. K. Root, The Poetry of Chaucer, pp. 104-106. 
^The Stage Quarrel, p. 155. 

" TroUua and Cressida, Tudor edition, pp. xix-xx. In articles on 
'* The Siege of Troy in Elizabethan Literature, Especially in Shake- 

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This is almost the whole secret of the play, and my own 
remarks may, in the main, seem to be only a reinforcement 
of Professor Tatlock's conclusions. The history of Troilus 
and Cressida and Pandams from Chancer to Shakespeare 
has not before been traced, however, although this is almost 
essential for a genuine understanding of what Shakespeare 
tried to do, of what indeed he did do, and it reveals also 
facts of some importance in regard to Henryson and 
Chaucer. When Sir Sidney Lee writes in 1916: "At one 
point the dramatist diverges from his authorities with 
notable originality. Cressida figures in the play as a heart- 
less coquette; the poets who had previously treated her 
story . . . had imagined her as a tender-hearted, if frail, 
beauty, with claims on their pity rather than on their 
scorn. But Shakespeare's innovation is dramatically effec- 
tive, and deprives fickleness in love of any false glam- 
our " ; ® or when an editor of Miss Porter's experience can 
write as late as 1910, " Shakespeare evolves his own name 
[Cressida]. He seems to use Caxton's form as a whole, 
prefaced by Chaucer's initial letter," ^® surely it is time to 
consider the history of the love story and the lovers. 

speare and Heywood " {Puhlioationa of the Modem Language Asso- 
oicution of America, vol. xxx, pp. 673-770) and "The Chief Problem 
in Shakespeare'' {Sewanee Review, April, 1916), which aj^^eared 
after the present article was completed, Professor Tatlock has even 
more clearly and convincingly developed this view, and has also 
called attention to the relation of Heywood's Iron Age to Shake- 
speare's play. 

*A Life of WilUam Bliakeapeare (1916), p. 370. 

^'^Troilua and Cressida, First Folio edition, p. 131. It may be 
remarked that the two title-pages to the First Quarto run "The 
Historic of Troylus and Cresaeida" and "The Famous Historic of 
Troylus and Cresseid," the spelling used in the Edinburgh, 1593, 
edition of Henryson's Testament of Oresseid. Shakespeare's favor- 
ite form, if indeed he had a favorite, was Cressid, and this had been 
used for years before he wrote. Even in mss. of Chaucer's own 
poems the name is found with the spelling " Orisseyde," " Cres^de," 

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It was quite in a spirit of prophecy that Chaucer's 
Criseyde lamented: 

Alias! for now is clene a-go 
My name of trouthe in love, for ever-mol 
For I have falsed oon, the gentileste 
That ever was, and oon the worthieste! 

Alias, of me, un-to the worldes ende, 

Shal neither been y-writen nor y-songe, 

No good word, for thise bokes wol me shende, 

O, rolled shal I been on many a tonge! 

Through-out the world my belle shal be ronge." 

Some thirty years after she had thus bewailed her fate, 
Lvdgate, translating Guido at the command of Prince 
Hal, Bad to retell her story. He did so with some diffi- 
dence, referring his readers to his master Chaucer for 
a complete and accurate account. T-yjgfl^^ A/^dft^ pnf.]j^JTi^ 
to the story, but he was in thorough sympathy with his 
Cryseyde"' bitterly reproved Uuldo fot his slanders" oT 
WWRin in general, and tried to excuse Cryseyde in par- 
ticular because Nature had made her variable."^^ She also 
escaped Tiarsh words f rdffT'tte' "aiittor oi tLe^Laud Troy 
Book (about 1400), who indeed may have known her only 
through Guido, and who usually calls her Bryxeida or 
Brixaida. But when the author tells us that Diomedes 
struck down Troylus and sent his horse to "Cresseide, 
t5at fair woman. That sumtyme was Troyle lemman," *^ 
he perhaps had Chaucer's Criseyde in mind. 

"Criseida," "Greseide." In this article the speUing used by the 
authors who are quoted is retained. 

" Bk. V, St. 151-162. 

"In H. Bergen's edition of the Troy Book (E. E.T.S., 1906-1910) 
the story may be followed in Bk. n, 11. 4676-4762, Bk. m, 11. 3664- 
3754, 4077-4263, 4343-4448, 4619-4669, 4820-67, Bk. iv, 2132-77, 

'^L. 9063 (ed. Wttlfing, E.E.T.S., 1902-03). The main events of 
the story occur at 11. 9065-92, 13427-38, 13543-64, 14857 ff. 


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Nor does Caxton's Becuyell (1474) concern us, save 
that in his history of Troylus and Breseyda he, like Lyd- 
gate, referred all readers, Shakespeare presumably among 
them, to Chaucer for further details. Calchas, he writes, 
'* had a passing fayr doughter and wyse named breseyda/ 
Chaucer in his booke that he made of Troylus named her 
creseyda " ; ^* and again, " Ther was neuer seen so moche 
sorowe made betwene two loners at their departyng/ who 
that lyste to here of alle theyr loue/ late hym rede the 
booke of troyUus that chawcer made/ wherin he shall fynde 
the Btorye hooll/ whiche were to longe to wryte here." ^^ 

During the sixteenth century the story seems to have 
been constantly on men's tongues, though few people could 
comprehend the spirit of high comedy and irony in which 
Chaucer had written. Of the characters as he portrayed 
them, Pandarus was by far the most dramatic, but natur- 
ally enough Pandarus quickly developed into a low comedy 
figure. On Twelfth Night, 1515/6, at Eltham, Cornish 
and the Children of the Chapel Royal acted the Story of 
Troylous and Pandor. Cornish himself, " clad in mantle 
and bishop's surcoat, took the role of Calchas. The chil- 
dren acted the roles of Troilus, Cressid, Diomed, Pandor, 
Ulysses, and others not named . . . Chaucer's ' Criseyda 
in widowes habite blak ' remained in the account of the 
furnishings as ' Kryssyd imparylled lyke a wedow of 
onour, in blake sarsenet and other abelements for seche 
mater.' " ^® Pandar, the go-between, had probably, even 

^« Ed. H. 0. Sommer, voL n, p. 601. 

^Ihid>, p. 604. These aUusions are not in Miss Spurgeon's Fwe 
Hundred Yearn of Chaucer Critioiem and Allueion, Unless her book 
is directly referred to, it may be assumed that other allusions to 
Chaucer noted in this article are not there printed. 

^G. W. Wallace, Evolution of the Englieh Drama up to Shake- 
epeare, Berlin, 1912, p. 48. 

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I in this early play, degenerated into a clown. There was no 
other way in which to treat him. Not long afterward, 
Nicholas Grimald, according to Bale, wrote a Latin com- 
edy, Troilus ex Chaucero, of which, however, there is no 
other record ; ^^ and in The Rare Triwnphes of Loue and 
Fortune, which was " plaide before the Queenes most ex- 
cellent Maiestie" about 1582 and published seven years 
later, the first of the plays given before the gods was that 
of " Troilus and Cressida," at the conclusion of which 
Mercury says : 

Behold, how Troilus and Gressida 

Cries out on Love, that framed their decaj." 

How these plays treated Cressid it is useless to speculate. 
But in the popular literature of the early Tudor period she 
became a staple comparison while her uncle's name was 
becoming a common noun. Peculiarly enough, Cressid 
was often glorified as the highest type of a sweetheart, — 

U ^ Miss Spurgeon, toI. i, p. 95. 

" Dodsley-Hazlitt's Old Playe, vol. vi, p. 166. This play reminds 
one of the Troilus-Cressida burlesque — over which wars of words 
have been waged — in HUtriomaatiw, Nobody, I believe, has noticed 
that the latter is closely paralleled by this passage in Samuel 
Rowlands's The Letting of Bvmovra Blood in the Head-Vaine . . . 
At London, Printed by W. White for W. P. 1600, signs. E ft-E 2 
(Hunterian Cldb edition, vol. i, pp. 66-67) : 

My hartes deare blood sweete Cis, is thy carouse. 

Worth all the Ale in Gammer Ouhhine house: 

I say no more affaires call me away, 

My Fathers horse for prouender doth stay. 

Be thou the Lady Creesit-light to mee. 

Sir Trollelolle I will proue to thee. 

Written in haste: farewell my Cowslippe sweete. 

Pray lets a Sunday at the Ale-house meete. 

The early date of Evmovra Blood makes this passage of much 
importance in connection with the supposed allusion in Eiitruy- 
moitiw to Shakespeare's Troilus. 


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/as a complaisant damsel who "yielded grace" to her 
lover's importunities, and who was worthy of emulation. 
One could almost suspect that, tired with Chaucer's long- 
drawn-out narrative, certain readers stopped at the great 
climax in the third book of the Troilus and went on their 
way, blissfully unaware of Criseyde's later perfidy. Jcdm 
Skelton's poem, " To my lady Elisabeth Howarde " 
(1523), uses Creisseid as a convenient means of compli- 
menting Lady Elisabeth's beauty,^® but the exaltation of 
Cressid as a model mistress really begins with TotteVs 
Miscellany (1557), where an unknown author is repre- 
sented by a poem caUed "A comparison of his loue with 
the f aithf uU and painful loue of Troylus to Creside/' *^ 
He had evidently read Chaucer carefully through the third 
book, for he borrows Chaucer's details freely. He telk 
how Troilus fell in love with Creside at first sight, how 
he was so hopelessly smitten that " euery ioye became a 
wo," and how 

His chamber was his common walke, 
Wherin he kept him se[c]retely. 
He made his bedde the place of talke. 

If the author had read all of the Troilus, he disr^arded 
the tragic denouement for effect. After Creside had 
granted her lover's wish, he says, she loved him faithfully 
and studied " his whole minde full to content." He con- 
cludes by imploring his mistress 

To graiint me grace and so to do, 
As Creside then did Troylus to. 

And set me in as happy case, 
As Troylus with his lady was. 

" Works, ed. A. Dyce, 1865, vol, n, p. 208. Cf. Miss Spurgeon, voL 
I, p. 74. 

"^Arber's reprint, pp. 192- 104. There were eight editions of this 
misoellaiiy by 1687. 

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As a model lover Oresseda was depicted by William 
Elderton, the first noteworthy professional ballad-writer. 
In " The panges of Lone and loners fittes," his first known 
baDad, published on March 22, 1559/60, Elderton threw 
in a number of stock comparisons to romance and story, 
and wrote of Cresseda : 

Knowe ye not, how Troylus 
Lanquished and lost his joje, 
With fittes and fevers mervailous 
For Cresseda that dwelt in Troye; 
Tyll pytie planted in her brest, 

Ladle ! ladle ! 
To slepe with him, and graunt him rest, 

My dear ladle." 

William Fulwood, a merchant-tailor who wrote a bitter 
though coarsely humorous satire on Elderton, published in 
1568 The Enimie of Idlenesse, perhaps the first " complete 
letter-writer " in English. " The fourth Booke. Oonteyn- 
ing sundrie Letters belonging to love" contains a model 
poetical letter alluringly entitled " A constant Lover doth 
expresse His gripyng griefes, which still encrease," ^* the 
first few verses of which show a knowledge of Chaucer's 

As Troylus did neglect the trade of Lovers skilfull lawe. 
Before such time that Cresseid faire with fixed eyes he sawe, 

and then plunges into a series of conventional compari- 
sons — " But sith I lacke some such a f riende as he of Pan- 
dor had . . .'' and the like. The " letter ^' concludes with 
the plea : 

»J. P. Collier's Old Ballads, p. 26 (Percy Society, toI. i). Th« 
hallad is reprinted also in H. L. GoUmann's Ballads and Broadsides^ 
Roxburghe Club, 1912, p. HI. 

''ATailable to me only as reprinted (pp. 72-73) in Paul Wolter's 
WilUa^ Fullwood, Diss. Rostock, Potsdam, 1907. 

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392 HYDBB E. BOLLnra 

Therfore graunt grace, as Cresaida, did unto Troylus true: 
For as he had hir love by right, so thine to me is due. 

I Oressida must have been held up as a worthy example by 
/ many yoimg lover-writers, for the Enimie of Idlenesse 
went through eight editions by 1598. 

The early Elizabethan poets, particularly Turbervile 
and Gascoigne, and ballad-mongers^® of a much later 
period were fond of thus exalting Cressida. Poetic license, 
or licentiousness, was their only excuse, for her reputation 
had long been hopeless. In 1501 Gavin Douglas** cas- 
ually referred to " Trew Troilus, vnf aithf ull Oressida," as 
if these epithets had abeady become stereotyped ; and in 
Philip Sparrow (1507) Skelton ^^ summarized Chaucer's 
story, scoffed even at Troilus, and harshly expressed the 
general opinion of Oressida and Pandar : 

For she dyd but fayne; 
The story telleth playne . . . 
Thus in conclusyon. 
She brought hym in abusyon; 
In emest and in game 
She was moch to blame; 
Disparaged is her fame, 
And blemysshed is her name, 
In maner half with shame; 
Troylus also hath lost 
On her moch loue and cost. 
And now must kys the post; 
Pandara, that went betwene. 
Hath won nothing, I wene . . . 
Yet for a speciall laud 
He is named Troylus baud. 
Of that name he is sure 
Whyles the world shall dure. 

*• See A HandfuU of Pleasant Delights, 15S4, Spenser Society edi- 
tion, pp. 45, 66; Richard Johnson's Crown Garland of Golden Rosea, 
1612, Percy Society Publications, vol. vi, pp. 62, 67. 

•* The Palioe of Honour, Works, ed. J. Small, 1874, voL i, p. 23. 

» Works, ed. Dyce, 1865, voL i, pp. 84-86, 

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In the hands of " vulgar makers " Chaucer's story lent 
itself admirably to burlesque. Skelton's own " doings " 
(which, Puttenham gravely assures us, were always ridicu- 
lous) could only have added to Cressid's ill fame. But 
worse was to come. 

In 1565 a professional versifier wrote a coarsely humor- 
ous ballad on the lovers, which is preserved in a Bodleian 
Library manuscript, famous because it contains the older 
version of " Chevy Chase." *^ The ballad follows Chaucer 
in every particular: Troilus thinks his heart is so per- 
fectly under control that no beauty can allure him, but one 
day at church he sees Cressyd. What a lurch did the sight 

^ Songs and Ballads . . . Edited from a MS. in the Ashmolean 
Museum bj Thomas Wright, Roxburghe Club, 1S60, pp. 196-107. 
The ballad is also reprinted in voL xxxi, pp. 102-105, of the old 
Shakespeare Society Papers hj Halliwell-Phillipps as well as in his 
edition of Troilus (Folio Shakespeare, vol. zn, p. 307). This is 
almost certainly the ''baUett intituled 'the history of TroiluSi 
Whose throtes [♦. e., troth] hath Well bene tryed'" which was 
registered for publication by T. Purfoote in 1565-66 (Arber's Tftm- 
soript, Tol. I, p. 300). 

Another ballad on Troilus and " Cressus," preserved in the Peroy 
Folio M8,, ed. Hales and Fumivall, vol. m, pp. 301-302, depends 
solely on Chaucer's poem. It b^ins: 

Cressus: was the ffairest of Troye, 

whom Troylus did loue! 
the Knight was kind, & shee was coy, 

no w<»rds nor worthes cold moue, 
till Pindaurus [!] soe playd his part 
that the Kmght obtained her hart 

the Ladyes rose destroyes: 
[They] held a sweet warr a winters night 
till the enuyous day gaue light; 

which, darkness louers ioyes. 

It is most surprising that Henryson's story was not worked into 
many lugubrious moralizing ballads of the type so dear to Eliza- 
bethan readers. One of these is mentioned on p. 24, below; and 
probably there were others not now preserved. 

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give his heart I He is dismayed, a:nd seeks the help of her 
uncle Pandarus. Pandar tells Cressyd that Troilus is 
dying for her love, though the young warrior nevertheless 
goes to the battlefield and gives the Greeks " many a lusty 
thwake-a." Cressyd, caught at her uncle's house by a rain- 
storm, is forced to pass the night there. Troilus goes to 
her chamber with Pandar, but is too tongue-tied to speak. 
He kneels by the bed, but Pandar places him in it, blows 
out the light, and leaves the two together. In the morning 
he returns. 

"In faythe, old iinkell," then quoth she, 
"Yow are a frend to tnist-a." 
Then Troylus lawghed, and wat you why? 
For he had what he lust-a. 

Halliwell-Phillipps first commented on the resemblance of 
the ballad to Shakespeare's play. That resemblance is un- 
mistakable, particularly in the characterization of 
Troilus,^''^ who both in ballad and in drama is frankly sen- 
sual. It is by no means improbable that Shakespeare had 
heard this ballad simg about the streets of London,^^ and 
that alone would have given him a distaste for the love 
story: ballad-mongers and ballad-singers had made it 
coarse and farcical, and no Elizabethan poet would gladly, 
or willingly, have treated a theme which they had popular- 
ized and befouled. 

Robert Henryson's Testament of Cfeseyde was pub- 
lished in Thynne's 1532 edition ^® of Chaucer, introduced 

" Cf . especially Troilus and Cressida, iv, ii, 36-40. 

*I have observed that one of the ballads in this MS. was r^s- 
tered in October, 1664, and yet was printed under Richard Johnson's 
name in his Oroton (ktrland, 1612. The ballad on Troilus and 
Gressida could easily have been in circulation in Shakespeare's day. 

"The quotations in this article are from Thynne's text (as nor- 
malized in Gregory Smith's Henryson, vol. m, pp. 177-198), because 
this was long the only text known in England. Otherwise the Scot- 
tish text (1693) would be preferable. 

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with the statement that " Thus endeth the fyfth and laste 
booke of Troylus : and here f oloweth the pytef ul and dolor- 
ous testament of f ayre Creseydc," and concluding, " Thus 
endeth the pyteful and dolorous testament of fayre Ore- 
seyde: and here f oloweth the legende of good women." 
The poem was probably written in the last quarter of the 
fifteenth century. The earliest record of it is in the table 
of contents of the British Museum ms. Asloan, circa 1515, 
but the portion of the ms. which contained the poem is lost, 
and Thynne's is the earliest extant text. Perhaps Thynne 
did not intend it to be taken as Chaucer's work — Chaucer, 
indeed, is several times mentioned in the poem — ^but it 
was reprinted in all editions of Chaucer down to Urry's 
(1721), was attributed to him by Bale, Leland, and Tan- 
ner (1748), and was even included among his poems in 
Chabners's Worhs of the English Poets (ISIO).^^' The 
oldest extant separate text is that published by Henry 
Charteris at Edinburgh in 1593. Six years after this, one 
of Francis Thynne's Animadversions on Speght's Chaucer 
was: "yt wolde be good that Chaucer's proper woorkes 
were distinguyshed from the adulterat, and suche as were 
not his, as the Testamente of Cressyde " ; ®^ but in his 
1602 edition Speght not only ignored this advice but in- 
serted the following passage at the beginning of Chaucer's 
poem (folio 143) : " In this excellent Booke is shewed the 
foment loue of Troylus to Creiseid, whome hee enioyed for 
a time : and her great vntruth to him againe in giuing her 
selfe to Diomedes, who in the end did so cast her off, that 
she came to great miserie. In which discourse Chaucer 
liberally treateth of the diuine purueiaunce." 

■•Henrjson's Works, ed. Gregory Smith, Scottish Text Society, 
vol. I, p. xlvflf. 
"Miss Spurgeon, vol. i, pp. 164-155. 

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396 HTDSB E. Boixms 

Chaucer had confined himself to the tragi-comedy of 

Troilus, but the Scottish poet, on a cold winter night when 

he was reading the story "written by worthy Chaucer 

glorious," ^* perceived that inherent in the theme there was 

a real tragedy of Criseyde, a tragedy suggested by her own 


And thou, Simoys, that as an arwe clere 

Thonigh Troye rennest ay downward to the see, 

Ber witnesse of this word that seyd is here, 

That thilke day that ich imtrewe be 

To Troilus, myn owene herte free. 

That thou retome bakwarde to thy weUe, 

And I with body and soule sinke in helle! " 

The continuation of the story, as Henryson wrote it, is the 
most artistic, the most powerful handling made by any 
poet after Chaucer. Animated no doubt by a desire to 
warn " worthy women '^ to " mynge nat your loue with 
false disception," he nevertheless wrote a genuinely dra- 
matic poem, powerful in its delineation of character, grip- 
ping in the inevitability of its denouement, and yet marked 
by the same sympathetic comprehension of the character 
of Creseyde that had made Chaucer pity her. The story 
could hardly end as Chaucer left it. There the ghost of 
Troilus looks down from the clouds upon the comedie hu- 
maine in which he had played such an unfortunate role 
and laughs at the pitiableness of his efforts and those of the 
living Trojans. But what of Criseyde ? Was she true to 
Diomed ? Could so sensual a man be true to her ? Or was 
not his infatuation a mere whim caused by a desire of 
showing his superiority to her Trojan lover? Henryson's 
beautiful story answers all these questions in a manner 

"The aUusions to Chaucer in the Testament are, of course, in 
Mise Spurgeon's book (voL i, p. 56). 
" Troilxia and Criseyde^ Bk. iv, st. 222. 

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that is beyond praise — ^with the sure touch of an artist. 
But in doing so he rang Criseyde's " bell " so loudly that 
it reverberated to the time of Shakespeare, and forever 
damned her as a loose woman. 

The Diomedes Chaucer portrayed could not possibly 
have been true to Oriseyde: once he had gained her body, 
once he had triumphed over the lover Troilus, Oriseyde 
could no longer attract him. Henryson knew this. And 
he was entirely unfamiliar with the courtly-love rules that 
had motivated Chaucer's treatment of Criseyde, but in- 
stead regarded her as a wanton even in her relations with 
Troilus and as the kept mistress of Diomedes.** Accord- 

''So thought also Sir Francis Kinaston, who oirod 1635 b^an to 
translate Troilus into Latin and pointed out that the ** Sixt & Last 
Booke of Troilus and Creseid" was not by Chaucer but by "Mr. 
Robert Henderson," — surprising news to most of his contemporaries. 
"This Mr Henderson/' he said, "wittily obseruing that Chaucer in 
his 5th booke had related the death of Troilus, but made no mention 
what became of Creseid, he learnedly takes vppon him in a fine 
poeticall way to expres the punishment &> end due to a false vncon- 
stant whore, which commonly terminates in extreme misery" (G. 
Smith's Henryson, vol. i, p. ciii; cf. also Miss Spurgeon, vol. i, 
p. 207). Both Henryson and Kinaston were quite modem in their 
attitude toward Cressid. 

Ballad-mongers naturally took an unfavorable view of Cressid's 
relations with Troilus. So "A Ballade in Praise of London Pren- 
tices, and What They Did at the Cock-Pitt Playhouse" (Collier's 
Hist. Eng. Dramatio Poetry, 1879, vol. i, p. 387), of the date of 
March, 1616/7, tells us that 

King Priam^s robes were soon in rags, 

And broke his gilded scepter; 
False Cressid's hood, that was so good 

When loving Troylus kept her. . . . 

The ballad, if genuine, perhaps throws some light on the way in 
which actors played the part of Cressid. The author of "A New 
Ballad of King Edward and Jane Shore," 1671 {Rowhurghe Ballads, 
vol. vm, p. 424), is quite as imcomplimentary to "young Troyalus " 
as his predecessors were to Cressid. 

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ingly, he tells us that it was not long before Diomedes tired 
of Creseyde and drove her out. It grieves him to be forced 
to admit that 

Than desolate she walked yp and downe. 

As, some men sayne, in the courte as commune." 

FinaDy she returns to Calchas. Going into a private ora- 
tory of the temple, she bitteriy reproaches Venus and 
Cupid for the evils they have sent on her; and falling 
asleep, dreams that her case is being tried by the gods, that 
Venus is demanding punishment for her impiety, that the 
gods decree her offence punishable by leprosy. Cynthia 
and Saturn descend to deliver the verdict. And a fearful 
one it is ! 

Thy christal eyen menged with blode I make; 
Thy voice so clere, vnplesaunt, he^, and hace; 
Thy lusty lere ouerspred with spottes blake, 
And limipes hawe appering in thy face; 
Where thou comest, eche man shal flye the place; 
Thus shalte thou go beggyng fro house to hous, 
With cuppe and clapper lyke a lazarous." 

Creseyde awakes to find that her dream has come true. 
She leaves the temple secretly with her father, and goes to 
the " spyttel house," where only a few lepers recognize her. 
She moans and cries, but finally is reconciled to begging. 
One day Troilus, riding by, is reminded by her terrible 
eyes of his lost lady-love, and impetuously pours money 
and jewels into her dish. Creseyde is frantic with grief. 
Feeling death approaching, she requests one of the lepers 
to carry her ruby ring to Troilus and to tell him of her un- 
happy end. When Troilus receives the ring and hears the 
message, he is filled with agony. But, alas ! what can he 
do ? She has been untrue to him — ^he can only furnish the 

«L1. 76-77. "LI. 337-343. 

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grave in which the lepers have hastily biiried her with a 
splendid monument and think of her ! A beautiful and a 
pitiful story! 

It should be obvious that most readers took the Testor 
ment for Chaucer's own work. In the third and fourth 
lines Henryson does say, "whan I began to write this 
tragedy/' but that statement could easily be overlooked be- 
cause of what follows, and besides the poem was unsigned. 
It was a stormy, cold night, Henryson says ; I mended the 
fire, took a drink to arm me from the cold, opened a book 
written by glorious Chaucer, in which I read the story of 
fair Creseyde and Troilus, — of how Troilus nearly died 
of grief when he was forsaken. And then 

To breke my filepe another queare I toke. 

In whiche I founde the fatal desteny 

Of fayre Creseyde, whiche ended wretchedly. 

Who wot if al that Chaucer wrate was trewe? 
Nor I wotte nat if this narration 
Be authorysed, or forged of the newe. 
Of some poete, by his inuention." 

This " other queare " could easily have been mistaken for 
a continuation of the story by Chaucer. Perhaps in the 
verses just quoted Henryson was trying to give that im- 
pression.*® At any rate, the stanza form, the smoothly 
flowing verse (which probably sounded smoother and more 
regular to the Elizabethan ear than did Chaucer's own), 
the attitude towards the characters, — ^these might well have 
been thought Chaucer's. And the inevitability of Henry- 
son's denouement, even though it necessitated the resur- 

"Ll. 61-67. 

"* Professor Skeat thought that these lines threw some doubt on 
Henryson's authorship. Cf. his Ohauoerian cmd Other Pieces, p. 522. 

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rection of Troilus, should have removed all doubts of the 
authenticity of the poem. 

Henryson mtade his Creseyde a life-like, suffering wo- 
man, struck down in the height of her folly by inexorable 
retribution. For authors and for readers up to 1600 Hen- 
ryson's Cressid was the Cressid ; but lacking his sympathy, 
they regarded her as a light-of-love who finally paid for her 
faithlessness and unchastity by leprosy. The influence of 
Henryson on the story was immense. He completely di- 
verted it from the channel in which Chaucer had left it; 
but, nevertheless, every mention of Cressid as a leper, at 
least to 1600, is an allusion to Chaucer. People thought 
they were reading Chaucer: nobody had ever heard of 
Robert Henryson, schoolmaster. 

Nor did Elizabethan writers have any idea of the origin 
of the Cressid myth, although many of them knew Boccac- 
cio's " tragedies." A ballad roistered at Stationers' Hall 
in 1664-65 and preserved in a Bodleian Library manu- 
script ^® begins. 

In Bocae an Guydo I rede and fynde, 
Thatt wemen of verrey nature and kynde, 
Be Bubtyll and nnstedfaste of mynde, 

but shows no knowledge of Guido's or Boccaccio's Cressid. 
George Turbervile translated some of Boccaccio's tales, 
constantly quotes him, and mentions him in connection 
with Chaucer, but knew Troilus and Cressid only as they 
appeared in Chaucer's works. In his Epitaphes, Epir 
grams. Songs and Sonets (1567) Turbervile devotes a 
poem to the story of Briseis, Chryseis, and the Wrath of 

** Registered, I have observed, under the title of its refrain, "I 
wiU say nothing," in 1564-65 (Arber's Transoript, voL i, p. 270) ; 
printed in Thomas Wright's Songs and Ballads, Roxburghe Club, 
1860, p. 163. 

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Achilles ; ^*^ if he had actually read the Iliad, he must have 
observed that a Pandarus plays an important role in Books 
iv-v and that Briseis, in Book xix, is described as a Trojan 
widow. But Turbervile, though deeply impressed by 
Chaucer's and Henryson's narratives, perceived no connec- 
tion between Briseis and Cressid, and probably derived his 
information about Achilles, Briseis, and Chryseis, only 
from Ovid's Epistles, which, in 1567 (or earlier), he had 
translated. His poems are literally full of allusions to 
the Troilus-Cressida story, which he constantly uses in his 
doleful love ditties, as a fearful warning to obdurate and 
faithless mistresses. On one occasion '^ Finding his Mis- 
tresse vntrue, he exclaimeth thereat " ^^ as follows: 

FareweU thou Bhamelesse shrew, 

faire Gresides heire thou art: 
And I Sir Trojlus earst haue been, 

as prooueth by my smart. 
Hencefoorth beguile the Greekes, 

no Troyans will thee trust: 
I yeeld thee vp to Diomed, 

to glut his filthie lust. 

But the Henryson story was always in Turbervile's 
mind. " The Lover in utter dispaire of his Ladies retume, 

* In J. P. Collier's reprint of the Epitaphes, pp. 223-226. On p. 10 
occurs this little known allusion to Chaucer and Boccaccio: 
Pause, pen, a while therefore, 

and use thy woonted meane: 
For Boccas braine, and Chancers quill 

in this were foyled cleane. 
Of both might neither boast 

if they did live againe; 
For P[yndara]. would put them to their shifts 

to pen hir Tertues plaine. 

/ / ** In Tragical Tales, translated by Tvrhervile, In time of his 
^troubles, 1587 (Edinburgh reprint, 1837, p. 330). The Tales, as I 
shall prove elsewhere, was first printed in 1574-75. 

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in eche respect compares his estate with Troylus," a poem 
in the Epitaphes (p. 249), brims with allusions to Chau- 
cer's own poem but concludes with this characteristic 
passage, which borrows both details and phrases from 
OSenryson : 

But though my fortune frame awrie, 
And I, dispoylde hir companie, 
Must waste the day and night in wo, 
Fol: that the gods appointed so, 
I naytheiesse will wish hir well 
And better than to Cresid fell: 
I pray she may have better hap 
Than beg hir bread with dish and clap, 
As shee, the sielie miser, ^ did, 
When Troylus by the spittle rid. 
God shield hir from the lazars lore, 
And lothsome leapers stincking sore. 
And for the love I earst hir bare 
I wish hir as my selfe to fare. 

The poet was not always so charitable. " To his cruel Mis- 
tresse," *^ at another time, he frankly remarks: 

^Ihid., p. 369. On p. 334 we read: * 
When Cresid clapt the dish, 

and Lazer-like did goe: 
She rewde no doubt that earst she did 

the Troyan handle so. 
And might she then retirde 

to beuties auncient tbwre: 
She would haue stucke to Priams sonne, 

of faithful loue the floure. 
But fond, too late she found 

that she had been too light: 
And ouerlate bewaild that she 

forewent the worthy knight. 

So in the Epitaphea, 1667 (Collier's reprint, pp. 108-100) : 
Let Creside be in coumpt 

and number of the mo. 
Who for hir lightnesse may presume 

with falsest on the row; 

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And if I may not haue 

the thing I would enioy: 
I pray the gods to plague thee 

as they did the dame of Troy. 
I meane that Creside coy 

that linkt her with a Greeke: 
And left the lusty Troyan Duke, 

of all his loue to seeke. 
And so they wil, I trust, 

a mirror make of thee: 
That beuties darlings may beware, 

when they thy scourge shal see! 

f The enormous popularity of Turbervile's poems, doggerel 
j though most of them are, helped to make the name of Cres- 
sid odious, or worse, comical. 

Thomas Howell's " The britlenesse of thinges mortall, 
and the trustinesse of Vertue," a poem in spasmodic rime 
royal published in his Newe Sonets, and pretie Pamphlets 
(circa 1570),^^ is so important for this discussion and so 

Else would she not have left 

a Trojan for a Greeke. 
But what? by kinde the cat will hunt; 

hir father did the like. 

There are similar long allusions on pp. 64, 56-57. The Epitaphes 
was. issued in ?1565, 1567, 1570, 1579, 1584. Turbervile had a 
brother and various nephews and cousins named Troilus (Hutchins, 
History and Antiquities of Dorset, 3rd edition, voL i, pp. 130, 201 ) , 
but whether there were likewise Cressids in the family, the record 
telleth not! 

•Originally licensed in 1567-68, but no copy of the first edition 
remains. The present edition claims to be " newly augmented, cor- 
rected and amended. Imprinted at London in Flete-streete, at the 
signe of S. lohn Euangelist, by Thomas ColwBll." GolwelPs last 
license (for a ballad) was secured in July, 1571 (Arber's Transcript, 
vol. I, p. 444) ; he is last heard of in a marginal note beside the 
entry of a book he had registered in 1568-9 : " solde to Benyman, 
19 Junij 1673" (Arber, vol. i, p. 378); so that Howeirs Netoe 
Sonets probably appeared about 1570. Grosart, reprinting the sec- 
pnd edition, does not attempt to date it. Miss Spurgeon, vol. i, 

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inaccessible as to deserve quotation. Four stanzas of the 
poem deal with Cressid : 

Where is faire HeUnes bewtie now be come, 

Or Creased eke whom Troylua long time serued, 

Where be the decked daintie Dame of Rome, 

That in Aurelius time so flourished: 

As these and many mo are vanished, 

So shall your youth, your f auor, and your grace. 

When nothing els but vertue may take place. 

To vertue therf ore do your selues applie. 

Gale Oressids lyfe vnto your youthly minde. 

Who past her time in Troye most pleasauntly 

Till falsinge faith to vice she had inclinde 

For whiche to hir suche present plagues were sinde. 

That she in Lazers lodge her life did ehde. 

Which wonted was most choysly to be tende. 

Hir comly corpes that Troylus did delight 
All puft with plages full lothsomly there lay: 
Hir Azxu-de values, her Cristall skinne so whight. 
With Purple spots, was falne in great decay: 
Hir wrinkeled face once fayre doth fade away. 
Thus she abode plagde in midst of this hir youth. 
Was forst to b^ for breaking of hir truth. 

After having thus paraphrased Henryson, the last stanza, 
with unconscious irony, continues the denunciation with 
an imitation of Chaucer^s phraseology : 

Lo here the ende of wanton wicked Ufe, 

Lo here the fruit that Sinne both sowes and reapes; 

Lo here of vice the right rewarde and knife. 

That cutth of cleane and tombleth downe in heapes. 

All such as treadeth Cresids cursed steps, 

Take heede therefore how you your youthes do spende. 

For vice bringes plagues, and vertue happie ende.^ 

p. 100, merely refers to the work under its original date. But cf. 
Herbert-Ames, Typographical Antiquities, n, p. 932. 

**The Poems of Thomas Howell, ed. A. B. Grosart, pp. 121-122. 
Cf. Chaucer's TroUus, Bk. v, st. 262, 265. 

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In 1581 Howell published his Denises, for his owne 
exercise, and his Friends pleasure,*^ and there included 
this poem, changing the title to ^^Kuine the rewarde of 
Vice/' considerably recasting all the verses, and adding a 
stanza. It is very probable that Shakespeare knew How- 
ell's Denises, and he could hardly have accused Howell of 
writing maliciously of Cressid. It cannot be insisted too 
often that readers of the Testament thought they were 
reading Chaucer. " Chancers woorkes bee all printed in 
one volume," John Fox wrote in 1670, " and therfore 
knowen to aU men." ^® But if all men had read that vol- 
ume, they also had the idea of Cressid that Howell has here 

George Gascoigne was fascinated by the Troilus-Cressid 
story, and refers to it with persistent and monotonous re- 
iteration. The Posies (1575), his ungainly collection of 
plays and poems, mentions the lovers on nearly every 
page ! Miss Spurgeon ^"^ quotes these verses from " Dan 
Bartholmew his first Triumphe " : 

Thj brother Troylua eke, that gemme of gentle deedes, 

To thinke howe he abused was, alas, mj heart it bleedes! 

He bet about the bushe, whiles other caught the birds, 

Whome crafty Oreaaide mockt to muche, yet fed him still with 

And God he knoweth, not I, who pluckt hir flrst-sprong rose, 
Since LoUius and Chaucer both make doubt ypon that glose. 

The mention of LoUius is important as showing that Gas- 
coigne had read TroUns with some care but that he knew 
nothing of its source in Boccaccio, — a fact which, in the 
light of his knowledge of Italian, is a bit surprising. Miss 

^In Grosart's edition. A separate edition was edited by Sir 
Walter Raleigh, Oxford, 1906. 
^Mis8 Spurgeon, toI. i, p. 105. 
•'/Wrf., p. 110. 

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Spurgeon omits the four lines that directly follow those 
above : 

But this I knowe to well, and lie to farre it felte. 
How Diomede vndid his knots, & caught both brooch and belt. 
And how she chose to change, and how she changed still, 
And how she dyed leaper-like, against hir louers will. 

Gascoigne's information about Cressid's imchastity, then, 
came primarily from the Testament. Henryson's Cre- 
seyde's last words were : 

''0 Diomede! thou hast both broohe & belte, 
Whiche Troylus gaue me in tokenyng 
Of his trewe loue " — & with that worde she swelte,** 

•LI. 570-581. The belt is Henryson's addition. The Scottish 
poet Wedderburne {Bannat^e M8., 1568, ed. Hunterian Club, vol. 
IV, p. 761; Sibbald's Chron, Scot. Poetry, vol. in, p. 236), following 
both Henryson and Chaucer, piles an alarming assortment of ar- 
ticles on the weapon of Diomedes: 

God wait quhat wo had Troyelus in deid, 
Quhen he beheld the belt, the broch and ring, 
Hingand vpoun the speir of Diomeid, 
Quhilk Troyellus gaif to Cresseid in luve taikning. 

This last line is almost an exact quotation of Henryson, 11. 500-501 
(quoted above). But Wedderburne, like his English contempo- 
raries, thought he was quoting Chaucer. In this same poem there 
is a stanza (unnoticed by Miss Spurgeon) in wjiich he summarizes 
the Miller's Tale. 

The limits of this article necessarily preclude an attempt to trace 
the story through the Scottish poets. A remarkable poem, "The 
Laste Epistle of Creseyd to Troyalus," attributed to William Fowler 
{Works, vol. I, pp. 379-387, ed. H. W. Meikle, 1«14), should be 
mentioned, however. This aims to finish Henryson's poem, and does 
so by borrowing his situation and retelling the whole story of the 
Testament plus details presumably from Lydgate and certainly from 
Chaucer. The date of this poem is, I should guess, about 1603, 
when Fowler came to London with Que«n Anne. (The second vol- 
ume of Meikle's edition has not appeared, and he has not expressed 
his opinion.) At any rate, Fowler was unaware of, or totally 
unimpressed by, Shakespeare's play. 

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and this explains the persistent allusions in Elizabethan 
poems to " brooch and belt" 

In " Dan Bartholmewes Dolorous discourses " Gas- 
coigne writes : 

I found naught else but tricks of Creaaides kinde, 
Which playnly proude that thou weart of hir bloud. 
I found that absent Troylua was forgot, 
When Dyatnede had got both brooch and belt, 
Both gloue and hand, yea harte and all, Grod wot. 
When absent Troylus did in sorowes swelt,** 

and then concludes by imitating Chaucer's epilogue to the 
Troilus: »<^ 

Lo, here the cause for why I take this paync! 
Lo, how I loue the wight which me doth hate! 
Lo, thus I lye, and restlesse rest in Bathe. . . ." 

In another passage Gascoigne remarks : 

And saye as Troylua sayde, since that I can no more. 
Thy wanton wyll dyd wauer once, and woe is me therefore," 

almost an exact rendering of Henryson's lines (591-592). 
Such examples, and more could easily be cited, show clear- 
ly that Gascoigne made no distinction between Chaucer's 
poem and Henryson's. On the contrary, they prove that, 
at least from Gascoigne's point of view, his allusions to 
Cressid's leprosy are allusions to Chaucer.^^ 

George Whetstone, in the Roche of Regard (1576), was, 


[ ^Complete Poems, ed. Hazlitt, vol. i, p. 114. 

■•Bk. V, St. 262, 266. Cf. Howell, p. 404, supra, 

•»Hazlitt*s ed., vol. i, p. 115. 

■/M<f., vol. I, p. 90. Henryson's lines are: 

Sigheng ful sadly, sayde, "I can no more; 
She was vntrewe, and wo is me therfore!" 

"Similar allusions may be found in Hazlitt *s edition, vol. i, pp. 
54, 55, 92, 98, 101, 105-106, 133, 139, 140, 363, 493, 495, and else- 

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perhaps even more than Gascoigne, influenced by Henry- 
son, and is extremely severe on poor Cressid, frankly an- 
nouncing in his preface ** To all the young Gentlemen of 
England" that in Cressids Complaint, the title of one 
poem in the first division of his book, " the subtilties of a 
courtisan discovered may forwame youth from the com- 
panie of inticing dames." " The Argument for Cressids 
complaint," quoted below, shows to what a sad state Hen- 
ryson's poem had brought the reputation of Cressid, mak- 
ing her, in Whetstone's eyes, a strumpet even while she 
was carrying on her love affair with Troilus : 

The inconstancie of Cressid is so readie in every mans mouth, 
as it is a needelesse labour to blase at full her abuse towards yong 
Troilus, her frowning on Syr Diomede, her wanton lures and love: 
neverthelesse, her companie scorned, of thousandes sometimes sought, 
her b^gerie after braverie, her lothsome leprosie after lively beau- 
tie, her wretched age after wanton youth, and her perpetuall infamie 
after violent death, are worthy notes (for others heede) to be re- 
membred. And for as much as Cressids heires in every comer live, 
yea, more cunning then Cressid her selfe in wanton exercises, toyes 
and inticements, to forewarne all m&i of such fllthes, to persuade 
the infected to fall from their follies, and to rayse a feare in dames 
imtainted to otfend, I have reported the subtile sleites, the leaud 
life, and evill fortunes of a courtisane, in Cressid [s] name; whom 
you may suppose, in tattered weedes, halfe hungerstarved, miserably 
arrayde, with scabs, leprosie, and mayngie, to complaine as fol- 

In the complaint itself, which ironically enough is writ- 
ten in rime royal, Cressid frankly admits that she was 
always a wanton, that she deliberately enticed Troilus and 
was all the while prostituting her body to other Trojans. 
She refers to " Syr Chaucer " ^^ (which shows that Whet- 
stone wrote the piece with Chaucer's Criseyde in mind), 
but borrows all her woes (including, of course, " the brooch 

'^Rooke of Regard, J. P. Collier's reprint, p. 36. 
''Ibid., p. 39 (Miss Spurgeon, vol. i, p. 113). 

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and belt *' which Diomedes got) from Henryson. Where 
Creseyde has said : 

This leper loge take for thy goodly hour, 
And for thy bedde take nowe a bonch of stro ; 
Far wayled wyne and meates thou had tho, 
Take mouled breed, pirate, and syder sour: 
But cuppe and clapper, nowe ia al ago," 

Whetstone's Cressid cries, — 

Glad is she now a browne breade crust to gnawe. 
Who, deintie once, on finest cates did frowne; 
To couch upon soft seames a pad of straw. 
Where halfe misllkt were stately beds of downe: 
By neede enforst, she begs on every clowne 
On whom but late the best would gifts bestow; 
But squemish then, God dyld ye, she said no." 

The Epilogue imitates Chaucer's conclusion in the same 
fashion as Howell and Gascoigne had earlier done : 

Loe! here the fruits of lust and lawlesse love, 
Loe! here their faults that vale to either vice; 
Loe! ladyes, here their falles (for your behove) 
Whose wanton willes sets light by sound advice. 
Here lords may learn with noble dames to match; 
For dunghill kyte from kinde will never flye. . . ." 

Surely if Dr. Fumivall had read Cressids Complaint he 
would never have said that we owe Shakespeare a grudge 
for debasing Chaucer's beautiful story! The grudge, if 
one be owed, must be against Henryson, while Shakespeare 
I deserves our thanks for pulling Cressid partly out of the 
mire in which Henryson's followers had placed her. 

"Ll. 433-437. 

" Collier's reprint, p. 40. Thomas Deloney's ballad of " Jane 
Shore" {Works, ed. F. O. Mann, p. 304, st. 9-11) seems to be imitat- 
ing both Whetstone and Henryson, though the resemblance is prob- 
ably accidental. Whetstone has other allusions to Cressid on 
pp. 134, 279. Cf. also his mention of Achilles and Briseis on p. 140. 

" Collier's reprint, p. 91. 

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Sabia, in Common Condiiioiis (before 1576), replies to 
Nomides's question, " What constancy in Creseda did rest 
in eiiery thinge ? " thus : 

How fajthfull was Deomedes one of the Qreekishe crew 
Though Troilus therin was iust yet was hee found vntrewe. 
And so betweene those twaine, and fortunes luckles hap, 
Shee was like Lazor faine to sit and beg with dish and clap." 

The allusions were no doubt understood and appreciated 
by every audience. From 1575 to 1585 poetical miscel- 
lanies, under fantastic and verbose titles, swarmed; and 
Cressid's name monotonously appears in them, along with 
that of Helen, as a fearful example. Cressid, however, i^' 
only once referred to in The Paradyse of daynty devises 
(1576) : there a certain K. L. has occasion to illustrate his 
remarks by the story of Medea and Jason. He then 

Vnto whose grace yelde he, as I doe offer me, 
Into your hands to haue his happ, not like hym for to be: 
But as kyng Priamus [ ?8onne] , did binde hym to the will, 
Of Cressed false whiche hym forsoke, with Diomed to spill. 

So I to you commende my faithe, and eke my ioye, 

I hope you will not bee so false, as Cressed was to Troye : 

For if I bee vntrue, her Lazares death I wishe, 

And eke in thee if thou bee false, her clapper and her dishe.* 

The Oorgious Gallery of gallant Inuerdions (1578) is 
crowded with allusions to Henryson's Cressid. One lover, 
who is quite as ungallant as R. L., " writeth to his Lady a 
desperate Parewell," and remarks : 

Thy fawning flattering wordes, which now full falce I finde, 
Perswades mee to content my selfe, and turne from Cressids kinde. 

** Common CondUions, ed. Tucker Brooke, 1915, 11. 801, 820-823. 
See also 1. 1281. 

•• " Beyng in Loue, he complaineth," J. P. Collier's reprint of 
1578 edition of the Paradyse, p. 132. There were eight editions by 

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And all the sorte of those: that vse such craft I wish 
A speedy end, or lothsome life, to Hue with Lasara dish." 

Another lover, exhorting " his Lady to bee constant," re- 
minds her that 

The fickle are blamed: 

Their lightiloue shamed, 

Theyr foolishnesse doth make them dye: 

As well, 
Can Cresaid beare witnesse, 
Fordge of her owne distresse, 
Whom Leprosy paynted 

And penury taynted." 

!More intelligent use of Henryson's narrative is made by 
A poors Knight his Pallace of pnuate pleaswres (1579), 
an elaborate allegory. Morpheus escorts the poor knight 
to the Vale of Venus, where among other unfortunate 
lovers he sees Troilus and Cressid : 

And as I pryed by chauncoj I 8a w a damsell morne, 

With ragged weedes, and Lazers spots, a wight to much forlorne. 

Quoth Morpheus doost thou see, wheras that caytiffe lyes, 

Much like the wretched Crocodill, beholde now how shee cryes. 

That is Pandare his Nice, and Calcaa only childe, 

By whose deceites and pollicies, young Troylus was beguilde. 

Shee is kept in afSiction where many other are, 

And veweth Troylus lying dead, vpon the Mount of Care. 

Shee wepte, shee sighed, she sobd, for him shee doth lament. 

And all too late, yet to to vaine, her facte shee doth repent: 

How could that stedfast knight, (quoth I) loue such a dame? 

Morpheus replied in beauty bright, shee bare away the fame: 

Till that shee had betrayd, her Troylus and her dere, 

And then the Gods assigned a plague, and after set her here.** 

" Sign. C b ( Three Collections of English Poetry, ed. Sir Henry 
Ellis, London, 1845). 

*'Sign. £ iii h {ibid,) Similar allusions may be found at signs. 
B ii 6, B iii, E ii &, F iii 6, G iv &, H ii, K iii 6, and elsewhere. 

"Sign. B iiii b (Ellis's Three Collections). The phrase " Pandor 
his Neece " is used again at sign. D ii 6, and of course comes only 
from Chaucer's story. 

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The poor knight, indeed, seems to have read the Testament 

of Creseyde with more attention than most of his fellow 

writers. He noticed, for instance, that while Creseyde had 

bequeathed her " corse and caryoun With wormes and with 

toodes to be rent," she had also said : 

My spirite I leaue to Diane, wher she dwelles, 
To walke with her in waste wodes & welles; ^ 

aiid accordingly, in another poem, he puts her in the train 
of Diana. Cupid's army approaches, and Desire is sent to 
demand Diana's surrender. This is refused. Desire re- 
turns to Cupid, and is ordered to ambush the maidens. He 
does so, and " when as worthy Troylus came, how could 
Dame Cressid fight ? '' But this was no prelude to a happy 
reunion in the Other World. The poor knight was too 
prejudiced for that, and hastened to add: 

But rather then Dame Cressid would, so quickly seeme as dead, 
Shee vowed her selfe from Troylus true, to flattering Diomede, 
So that the periured Orecian, or els the Troyan knight, 
Should haue Dame Cressid vnto loue, yea hoth if so it might.*" 

In " lustice and Judgement, pleaded at Beauties Barre," 
the poor knight devotes five stanzas (in rime royal) to 
Cressid.^® All the gods and Venus sit beside Beauty, and 
after Helen has been condenmed and led away, Troilus 
offers his bill of complaint against Cressid. Diomedes tries 

•* Ll. 577-678. «• Sign. D iii 5. 

•• Signs. F-F 5. Cf . also sign. I iii. In W. A.'8 SpeoiaU Remedie 
against the furious force of Uiwlesse Loue, 1579 (reprinted in Ellis's 
Three Collections) , sign. F ii h, there is a rather interesting reference 
to Cressid : 

What madnesse then remaines, in mens vnruly mindes, 
to feede one fruits of value desire, ye which so soone vntwindesC?] 

For wher is now become, dame Cressids glorious hue, 
whose passing port, so much did please, young Troilus ey^ tovewt 

W. A., of course, is alluding to the leprosy story. 

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to defend her, but is routed by Troilus; Calchas offers 
" glistering gobs of gold " if Beauty will spare her ; but 
Beauty would not 

giue eare, vnto the tale hee tolde, 

But iudged her which was the Prophets daughter 

A Leper vile, and so shee liued after. 

Here a new twist hafe been given to the story, though the 
author was indebted to Henryson for his idea. He has 
simply paraphrased the description of Creseyde's dream as 
given by the Scottish poet. 

On June 23, 1581, Edward White licensed " A proper 
ballad Dialoge wise betwene Troylus and Cressida," which 
was probably, I think, a reprint of a ballad in two parts — 
"A Complaint" (by "Troilus") and "A Beplye" (by 
" Cressida ") — ^that had been published in the 1580 edi- 
tion of the Paradyse of daynty deuises,^'' The " Com- 
plaint " is a bitter attack in which Troilus laments that 
Cressida's " gadding moode " calised her to be unfaithful. 
" If she in Troy had tarryed still," the ballad-writer makes 
Troilus say. 

She had not knoune the Lazars call, 
With cuppe & clap her almes to winne: 
Nor how infective scabbe and scall, 
Do cloth the Lepre Ladies skinne : • 
She had no such distresse in Troy, 
But honor, favour, wealth, and ioy. 

In the " Replye " Cressida denies that a '^ gadding moode, 
but forced strife " took her from Troy : if Troilus had only 
made her his wife, they might have lived happily together. 
As it is, she a'sks for pity, not blame ; and grieves because 

" Edited by Sir E. Brydges, 1812, pp. 100-102. Published also in 
Gascoigne's Poems, ed. W. C. Hazlitt, vol. n, pp. 331-333. 

"This absurd phrase may come from Henryson, 1. 464: "a leper 
lady rose, and to her wende." 

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Troilus is " blazing " her " plague to make it more." In 
the Testament Troilus is profoundly touched by the resem- 
blance of the leper to Cressid, and almost dies of grief 
when he discovers that the leper tras Cressid. Such a pro- 
duction as this ballad, then, keeps neither to the spirit of 
Henryson nor of Chaucer, but the ballad-writer waJs reflect- 
ing the popular idea of the unfortunate woman. 

*' The Louer complaineth the losse of his Ladie," a bal- 
lad by I. Thomson in A Handeftdl of pleasant delites 
(1584),^® combines details from the Troilus atid the Tes- 
tament in this fashion : 

If Venus would grant vnto me, 

such happinesse: 
As she did vnto TroyluSf 
By help of his friend P<uidarus, 

To Creasids loue who worse. 

Than aU the women certainly : 

That euer lined naturally. 
Whose slight falsed faith, the storie saitb, 
Did breed by plagues, her great and sore distresse, 

For she became so leprosie, 

That she did die in penurie: 

Because she did transgresse.^ 

The " storie " to which Thomson refers was, of course, the 
six books of TroUus and Criseyde as printed by Thynne. 

Robert Greene, in Euphues his censure to Philautu^ 
(1687), introduces Iphigenia, Briseis, and Cressida, as 
three Greek ladies who frequently meet with Cassandra, 

•• That the Handfull of Pleasant Delights first appeared in 1566, as 
an entry in the Stationers' Registers for that year (Arber's Tran- 
script, vol. I, p. 313) would naturally lead one to expect, and that 
most of the ballads printed in the 1584 Handfull had actually been 
published before 1566, I have attempted to prove in an article pres- 
ently to appear in the Journal of English and Oermanic Philology. 

'♦ A Handefull, etc., Spenser Society edition, p. 32. Henryson does 
not mention Pandarus. 

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Polyxena, Andromache, and the Greek and Trojan war- 
riors to discuss philosophy and literature, — all these per- 
sonages being sublimely unconscious that the works they 
are discussing were not to be written for hundreds of years. 
Mr. C. H. Herford has suggested '^^ that this anachronism 
may have led Shakespeare into putting Aristotle's phi- 
losophy in Hector's mouth. Certainly in the Winter's 
Tale Shakespeare followed Greene by giving Bohemia a 
sea-ijoast — an error that aroused the scornful ridicule of 
Ben Jonson. In the " third discourse " Greene speaks of 
'' Cressida, who all that night had smoothered in hir 
thoughts the perfection of TroUiLs/' ''^ but a rematk of his 
Orlando Furioso, — 

Why strumpet, worse than Mars his trothlesse loue. 

Falser than faithles Cressida: strumpet thou shalt not scape, — ^ 

shows that his opinion of Cressida was hardly favorable. 

With WUlobie His Avisa. Or The true Picture of a 
modest Maid, and of a chast and constant wife (1694) we 
come close to Shakespeare. In her " Second Temptation 
. . . after her marriage by Ruffians, Roysters, young Gen- 
tlemen, and lustie Captaines, which all shee quickly cuts 
off," the impossible Avisa, out-Susaning Susanna, delivers 
this crushing retort to her tempters : 

Though shamelesse Callets may be foimd; 

That Soyle them selves in common field ; 

And can carirc the whoores rebound, 

To straine at first, and after yeeld: 
Tet here are none of Creaeds kind, 
In whome yo\i shall such fleeting find.'* 

''In his Works of Shakespeare (1902), vol. ni, pp. 359-60. 

" Greene's Prose Works, ed. A. B. Grosart, vol. vi, p. 233. 

" Historie of Orlando Furioso, Malone Society reprint, 11. 1065-66. 
For similar sliu's see Greene's "Never Too hate, 1590, Prose WorkSy 
ed. Grosart, vol. vrn, pp. 26, 69, 68. 

" Ed. Charles Hughes, 1904, Canto xviii, p. 51. 

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Willobie himself then assailed the constant dame, only to 
be told in " Avisa', her last reply/^ 

Assure your selfe, you know my mind, 

My hart is now, as first it was, 

I came not of dame Chrysiedes kind.^ 

To the Avisa is added a poem called " The praise of a con- 
tented mind,'^ in which Willobie shows that Henryson was 
his chief authority for the Cressid story. He writes: 

For carelesse Crysed that had gin, her hand, her faith and hart, 

To Troilus her trustie friend, yet falsely did depart: 

And giglotllke from Troye towne, to Grecians campe would goe, 

To Diomede, whom in the end, she found a faithless foe. 

For having sliu'd the gentle slip, his love was tumd to hate. 

And she a leaper did lament, but then it was too late. 

Now foolish fancie was the cause, this Crysed did lament, 

For when she had a faithfull friend, she could not be content.** 

Sir Sidney Lee '^'^ believes that Shakespeare was the Mr. 
W. S., an old player, referred to in the Avisa; but whether 
or not this be true, Shakespeare probably noticed the book 
because he was actually mentioned by name in the prefa- 
tory verses. His opinion of Cressida was exactly the same 
as that of Master Willobie. 

By 1596, the year in which Thomas Heywood's Iron 
Age seems to have first been played,''® Cressid's features 

" Ed. Hughes, p. 133, Canto Lxxn. 

^* Ibid,, pp. 138-139. The third verse is a rendering of Henryson's 
" And go among the grekes early and late. So gyglotlyke, takyng thy 
foule plesaunce " (U. 82-83) . The ugly phrase in the first half of the 
fifth line is also used hy Gascoigne, Poems, ed. Hazlitt, vol. i, p. 105. 

^ Life of Shakespeare (1916), pp. 219-221. 

" Troy was entered in Henslowe's Diary (ed. Greg, vol. n, p. 180) 
as a new play on June 22, 1596, and was performed five or six times 
during June and July {ihid.y vol. i, p. 42). Greg {ibid., vol. n, p. 
180) thinks that this was an earlier and shorter part of the Iron 
Age, which was later expanded into a two-part play. The Iron Age 
was first published in 1632 ; in the preface to the two parts Hey wood 

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were fixed, so that no writer could possibly have further 
degraded her. And it was probably the success of this play 
that caused Henslowe to order another, on a similar theme, 
from Dekker and Chettle. On April 7, 1599, he loaned 
them three pounds " in eameste of ther boocke called 
Troyeles & creasse daye," ^® and on April 16 twenty shill- 
ings " in pte of payment of ther boocke called Troyelles & 
cresseda/^ ®^ The play is not extant, but among the Hen- 
slowe papers there is a rough plot of a Troilus-Oressida 
play which may have been this one. A section of it runs 

Enter Cressida wth Beggars, pigg Stephen, mr Jones his boy 
& mutes to them Troylus, & Deiphobus k proctor exeunt,"^ — 

wrote that they had been ''often (and not with the least applause,) 
Publickely Acted by two Companies, yppon one Stage at once." lliis 
performance may have been given during the autumn of 1597, when 
from October 11 to November 5 Pembroke's and the Admiral's men 
played together at the Rose. Fleay {Biographical Chrowiolet vol. i, 
p. 2S5) believed this, but Greg (Diary ^ vol. n, p. 180) denies it. 
Nevertheless, among the inventory of properties owned by the Ad- 
miral's men (Heywood's company) on March 10, 1597/8, there was a 
"great horse with his leages" {Hen9lou>e Papers, ed. Greg, p. 118), 
a property absolutely necessary for the second part of the Iron Age 
and very probably used for it during the performances of the preced- 
ing winter. Heywood's Golden Age, Silver Age, and Braaen Age 
seem to have been first performed on March 5, 1594/6, May 7, 1595, 
and May 23, 1596 {Dairy, ed. Greg, vol. n, p. 175; Fleay, Biog. Ohron., 
vol. I, pp. 283-284, and History of the Stage, p. 114) ; and it seems 
highly probable that the Iron Age immediately followed these. The 
best discussion of the date of the Iron Age is that in Professor Tat- 
lock's "Siege of Troy," PMLA., vol. xxx, pp. 707-719. He decides 
(p. 719) that "an earlier date for Iron Age than for Shakespeare's 
Troilus (1601-02) is favored by some of [the] evidence and opposed 
by none of it." 

*• Henslowe's Diary, ed. Greg, vol. i, 104. 

"* Ibid. The play of Agamem/non which was entered on May 26 and 
May 30, 1599 {ibid,, p. 109), Greg {iUd., vol. n, p. 202) does not 
believe to have been the same as the Dekker-Chettle Troilua, 

" Henslowe Papers, ed. Greg, p. 142. 

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enough to show that Henryson's poem had decidedly col- 
ored the plot. 

Heywood probably got most of his material from Lyd- 
gate, though he also knew the Iliad and from it took his 
Thersites. But he has a number of remarkable deviations 
from Lydgate's narrative, many of them due, no doubt, to 
his knowledge of Homer. He seems not to have known 
Chaucer's Troilus,^^ but the final scene in which his Cres- 
sid appears is taken from Henryson's poem. " Panders " 
is once used as a common noun,®® but Pandarus is nowhere 
mentioned ; and while Troilus is exalted to a position al- 
most equal to that of Hector (as in Chaucer and Lydgate), 
the chronology of the love story is hopelessly muddled, and 
the characterization of Cressid is absurd. The outline of 
the story will indicate many points of resemblance between 
the Iron Age and Shakespeare's play.®* 

Troilus appears in the first scene of Act I, Paii; I, where 

*■ But in his Troia Briianioa, 1609 (note to Canto xi, p. 254), Hey- 
wood refers to the story of Troilus and Cressida written by "the 
reuerent Poet Chaucer." 

* Pt. n, Act V {Plays, ed. Pearson, vol. iii, p. 428) . 

** It is altogether improbable that, as almost all critics have said, 
Shakespeare took his Thersites directly from Chapman's lUad. In- 
stead he must have been chiefly influenced by Heywood's play, or by 
an older play which they both used. Perhaps he knew John Hey- 
wood's ( ? ) interlude of Thersites, which was printed by Tyndale, 
1552-1563; and certainly the scenes in which this Thersites abuses 
his old mother are as disgusting from the modern point of view and 
as amusing from the Elizabethan point of view as anything said by 
Shakespeare's Tliersites. Shakespeare also knew Thersites from 
Arthur Golding's translation of the Metamorphoses (1567). The 
epigram on Thersites in Bastard's Ohrestoleros (Spenser Society 
reprint, p. 28), which was published in April, 1598, some time before 
Chapman's Ilictd first appeared, probably was suggested by the popu- 
larity of the Thersites in Heywood's Iron Age. Shakespeare's Ther- 
sites, like his Pandar, was intended to be purely a comic figure. See 
Hey wood's comments on Thersites in his Pleasant Dialogues an<f 
Dramas, 1637 (no pagination or signatures). 

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Antenor is reporting his ill success at securing " Aunt 
Hesione " from the Greeks. Paris then secures permission 
to sail for Greece and steal Helen. The remainder of the 
act deals with his reception in Greece, the rape of Helen, 
and the arming of the Greeks for pursuit. Thersites ap- 
pears in the first Grecian scene, " rayling " bitterly, call- 
ing Helen an " asse," predicting that Menelaus will soon 
wear horns, and otherwise disporting himself for the de 
lectation of the groundlings. In Act II Troilus and Cres- 
sida are seen mutually pledging eternal faithfulness. 
Meanwhile Helen has been joyfully received into Troy, 
and the Greek hosts have encamped before the walls. Cal- 
chas then flees. Hector vows vengeance on him, but not a 
word is said of Cressid. After a skirmish or two. Hector 
steps between the ranks, offering to stake the outcome of 
the war on single combat. Ulysses suggests that the Greek 
champion be determined by lot. In the combat that fol- 
lows. Hector refuses to fight to the bitter end because Ajax 
is his cousin. Priam then invites the Greek kings to a 

Act III opens with the banquet. Hector graciously wel- 
comes his cousin, calmly listens to Achilles's predictions of 
how and where he will be killed, and seems imaware that 
Calchas is present whispering to Cressid. Presently the 
father and daughter have this ridiculous conversation: 

0<U, In one word this Troy shaU be sackt and spoiFd, 

For 80 the gods haue told mee, Greece shall conquer, 
And they be ruin'd, leaue then imminent perill, 
And flye to safety. 

Cres, From Troilttsf 

CaL From destruction, take Diomed and Hue, 
Or Troilus and thy death. 

Cres. Then Troilus and my mine. 

CaL Is Cresid mad? 

Wilt thou forsake thy father, who for thee 
And for thy safety hath forsooke his Countrey? 

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Cres. Must then this City perish? 

Cal, Troy must fall. 

Cres, Alas for Troy and Troilus. 

Cal. Loue Eling Diotned 

A Prince and valiant, which made Emphasis 
To his Imperiall stile, line Diomeds Queene, 
Be brief e, say quickly wilt thou? is it done? 

Cres, Diomed and you i*le follow, Troilus shim. 

She has hardly ceased speaking when a quarrel begins be- 
tween Diomed and Troilus, from which we learn that 
Diomed has already captured Troilus's horse and sent it 
as a gift to Cressid. The banquet breaks up in confusion. 
Nothing is told of Cressid's departure or of the grief of 
Troilus, but soon after, in a brief scene, Troilus fights Dio- 
medes, knocks off his helmet, and when the Greek has fled, 
apostrophizes his sweetheart as ^^ false Cresida," and irra- 
tionally closes the scene by exclaiming : 

My Steede hee got by sleight, I this [the helmet] by force. 
I'le send her this to whom hee sent my horse. 

In Act IV Diomedes and Troilus enter " after an 
alarum'' for a four-line scene, in which the Trojan de- 
clares, '^ I'le live to loue [Cressid] when thy life is past." 
Achilles now treacherously surrounds Hector with his Myr- 
midons, kills him, and drags the corpse at the tail of his 
horse, thus upsetting all mediseval legend and no doubt 
preparing for the similar incident in Shakespeare's play. 
Troilus is likewise surrounded and killed by Achilles ; but 
the villainous Greek is shortly afterward enticed to Troy 
and shot by Paris. Act V ends with the suicide of Ajax 
and an epilogue by Thersites. 

In Part II Cressid fares badly, probably not so much 
because Heywood had any bitterness for her as because iii^ 
thousand and one details he crowded into his play pre- 
vented his giving close attention to making her consistent 
and realistic. Heywood is notably poor in motivating 

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women characters: the ease with which Mrs. Frankford, in 
his masterpiece, yields to WendoU, is sufficient proof of 
this defect ; but his presentation of Cressid is nothing short 
of ridiculous. 

In the first act (among a dozen other scenes) Diomedes 
remarks to Sinon: " Goe with me to my Tent, this night 
we4e reuell With beauteous Cressida*" Sinon reproaches 
Diomed for loving her, and when Diomed says, " Shee is 
both constant, wise, and beautifull," replies in a speech 
that is decidedly reminiscent of Henryson: 

She's neither constant, wise, nor beautifull, 
He prooue it Diomed: foure Elements 
Meete in the structure of that Creasida, 
Of which there's not one pure : she's compact 
Meerely of blood, of bones and rotten flesh, 
Which makes her Leaproua. 

When Diomedes protests, Sinon offers to prove his state- 
ment. Cressida approaches, Diomedes steps aside, and 
Sinon accosts her. I am going to meet Diomedes, she tells 
him, and lead him with kisses to his tent ; he is a fair and 
comely personage, whom I love as my life. " Personage ? " 
says Sinon, " ha, ha. I prithee looke on me, and view me 
well. And thou wilt find some difference." She scorns him, 
but listens when he begs her to leave her lover and come 
with him. He tells her that Diomedes has a queen in 
Etolia who will kill her. For a moment she wavers. 
" Love me, Cressid," says Sinon ; " come kiss me," and this 
amazing creature replies: 

Well, you may vse your pleasure; 
But good Synon keep this from Diomed, 

The whole change takes place in fifty lines. Diomed 
then appears, justly banishes her from his sight, and leaves 
her lamenting her betrayal. Penthesilea enters, hears her 
grievance against Sinon, and promises to avenge her (a 

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promise, however, that is not fulfilled), while Creesid pre- 
sumably goes straight to Troy. A last glimpse of her 
comes when, the wooden horse having brought the Greeks 
into the city, she and Helen are running wildly to escape. 
Says Helen : 

Death, in what shape soeuer hee appearee 

To me is welcome, lie no longer shun him; 

But here with Cresida abide him: here, 

Oh, why was Hellen at the first so faire. 

To become subiect to so foule an end? 

Or how hath Cresida beauty sinn'd 'gainst Heauen, 

That it is branded thus with leprosiet 

Cressid answers: 

I in conceit thought that I might contend 
Against Heauens splendor, I did once suppose, 
There was no beauty but in Creaids lookes. 

She does not mention Troilus or her own double falsily, 
and with this speech she passes from the play. Heywood 
seems to have brought her in here only because she was 
always written of and thought of as a leper: having thus 
satisfied the Elizabethan mania for " historical accuracy," 
he was content to let her pass, sure that his alidience could 
finish out her story. And so he carries his lumbering play 
through two more acts until he has brought all the Greek 
kings, Helen, Thersites, and Sinon to their violent deaths. 
The resemblances between the Iron Age and Troilus and 
Cressida are striking, and one must decide that Shake- 
speare was influenced by the earlier play or that both he 
and Heywood used a common source. 
i There is really no problem in regard to Shakespeare's 
I attitude towards the three major characters of the love 
story. In the third act of Troilus ®* he makes Pandar say : 
" If ever you prove false to one another, since I have taken 

"III, ii, 205 ff. 

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such pains to bring you together, let all pitiful goers-be- 
tween be called to the world's end after my name ; call them 
all Panders; let all constant men be Troiluses, all false 
women Cressids, and all brokers — between Pandars! say, 
Amen." All say " Amen '' in a scene that must have been 
irresistibly comic, for Pandarus had simply stated a fact. 
At that very moment Troilus was the name for a constant 
lover, " Cressid's kind " was the ordinary euphemism for 
" harlot,'^ *^ pander " had become a common noun. Shake- 
speare, then, had little choice in the matter ; he was obliged 
to portray these three characters as time and tradition had 
fixed them. 

Dr. Small was wrong in saying that Shakespeare " adopts 
the character of Pandarus from Chaucer without change,'' ®® 
and Miss Porter equally wrong in maintaining that " Chau- 
cer turned [Pandarus] into a trusty, true-hearted old 
uncle, and Shakespeare re-created [him] in a gay, gross, 
shrewd, and worldly courtier-type peculiarly his own, de- 
spite the nucleus of the older su^estion " ; ^'^ for there is 
nothing whatever of the courtier-type, no individuality 
whatever, about Shakespeare's Pandarus. He is merely a 
type of the pimp that Elizabethans were accustomed to see 
prowling about the streets or in Paul's. Shakespeare saw 
in him a good part for a low comedian ; he made Pandar a 
buffoon, the butt of the play, but did not try to raise him 
from common " noundom." That would have been a hope 
less task; and Shakespeare adjusted his characterization 
to the noun, just as the writers of the Moralities had tried 
to present characters that would fit such names as Sim- 
. plicity, Perseverance, or Fraud. " Pander " had become 
a generic name early in the century, and by Shakespeare's 


■• The Stage-Quarrel, p. 155. 

" Troilus and Cresaida, First Folio ed., p. 138. 


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day it was necessary to use some qualifying word or phrase 
when the individual Pandarus was meaiit Thomas Lodge, 
for instance, wrote in the preface to his Wits Miserie 
(1596) : " Earthly Deuils in humane habits, . . . wait on 
your tasters when you drinke . . . and become Panders 
if you hire them,'' and later : " Behold another more hain- 
ous spirit . . . who . . . must to Poules presently to 
meet with his Pandare.^^ ®® But when he wished to make 
a distinct allusion to the legendary character Pandarus he 
wrote: " [Cousenage] is the excellent of her age at a' ring 
& a basket : & for a baudie bargain, I dare turne her loose 
to CHAUCERS Pddare:'^ The noun "pander" is 
used five times in Eastward Ho (1603), a play in which 
Tamberlaine, Hieronimo, and Hamlet are burlesqued; and 
it seems very probable that if Shakespeare's contemporaries 
had seen any individuality in his characterization of the 
go-between, Jonson and his collaborators would have bur- 
lesqued Shakespeare's Pandar instead of using his name 
only as a class designation. 

Even before he wrote Troilus and Cressida Shakespeare 
had followed the fashion in regard to the three figures of 
the love story. " Marry, sir," Ford tells Falstaff, " we'll 
bring you to Windsor, to one Master Brook, that you have 
cozen'd of money, to whom you should have been a pan- 
der." ®® " Troilus," says Benedick, was " the first em- 
ployer of panders " ; ®^ while Bourbon cries : " And he 

" Lodge's Work8, Hunterian Club ed., vol. iv, pp. 5-6, 67. 

•• Ihid., p. 44. So in Beaumont and Fletcher's Woman Hater, 1607, 
one of the characters is called Pandar (the common noun), and has 
quite as much individuality as Shakespeare's Pandarus. ''Sir Pan- 
darus, be my speed ! " they make him exclaim when the proper noim 
is meant. Cf . the poetical description of " A Pander " in Rowlands's 
KfMve of Oluhs, 1609, sign. A4 (Hunterian Club ed., vol. n, p. 7). 

•• Merry Wives, v, v, 176. 

" Muck AdOy V, ii, 31. 

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that will not follow Bourbon now, Let him go hence, and 
with his cap in hand, Like a base pandar, hold the chainber 
door." ®^ But when Chaucer's Pandarus is meant, a spe- 
cific reference is necessary. Says Pistol, " Shall I Sir 
Pandarus of Troy become, And by my side wear steel ? " ®^ 
"I am Cressid's uncle," Lafeu remarks as he presents 
Helena to the King, " That dare leave two together ; fare 
you well." ®* 

Rosalind names Troilus as " one of the patterns of 
love," ^® Petruchio calls his puppy Troilus,^* and Lorenzo, 
reminiscent of Chaucer, tells Jessica, 

In such a night as this . . . 
Troilus methinks mounted the Troy an walls, 
And sighed his soul toward the Grecian tents, 
Where Cressid lay that night.*' 

But poor Cressida fared worse. " Would not a pair of 
these have bred, sir ? " asks the Clown when Viola has 
given him a piece of money. " I would play Lord Pan- 
darus of Phrygia, sir, to bring a Cressida to this Troilus." 
Viola answers, " I understand you, sir. 'Tis well begg'd " ; 
and in his reply the Clown goes straight back to Henryson : 
" The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging but a beg- 
gar. Cressida was a beggar." ®^ These words must have 
had much point, for the audiences that were seeing Twelfth 
Night had only a short time before seen the Iron Age, in 
which Cressida is smitten with leprosy, and the Dekker-. 
Chettle Troilus, in which she comes on the stage with al 
swarm of beggars. It would have been nothing short of 
marvelous if Shakespeare had had any other conception of 

" Henry F, iv, v, 14. ** Taming of the ShreiCy iv, i, 153. 

"• Merry Wives, i, iii, 83. *" Merchant of Venice, v, i, 6. 

** AlVs Welly n, i, 100. ** Tirelfth Night, m, i, 55 flf. 
•■ A8 You Like /*, iv, i, 97. 


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her. And it is Pistol who d^rades the poor woman to the 
depths where Whetstone, Howell, and Willobie had already 
shoved her. Jealous of the attentions Nym is paying to 
Mrs. Pistol, the irate husband cries out: 

O hound of Crete, think'st thou my spouse to get? 

No ! to the spittal go. 

And from the powdering-tub of infamy, 

Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid's kind, 

Doll Tearsheet she by name.** 

No such conception of Cressid appears in TroUus and 
Cressida, Did Shakespeare intentionally avoid it? 
[ It is almost certain that Shakespeare thought the Testa- 
' ment to be Chaucer's own work. In the play, no doubt 
through the medium of Speght's 1598 edition, he borrows 
liberally from Chaucer's poem, and I think it highly proba- 
ble that Alexander's remark about Ajax (I, ii, 15) — " He 
is a very man per se. And stands alone " — ^was suggested 
by a phrase Shakespeare found in the *' sixth book " of the 
TroUvs — " O fayre Cresside the flour and A per se of 
Troy and Grece " — and that originally he wrote, " He is 
a very A per 5e." ^^^ Cressida's petulant remark to Dio- 

•• Henry V, n, i, 76. 

^••In 1748 John Upton, in his Observations on Shakespeare (Miss 
Spurgeon, vol. i, p. 397), wrote: "Plausible as this reading ["he is 
a very man per se "] appears, it seems to me originally to come from 
the corrector of the press. For our poet I imagine made use of 
Chaucer's expression [t. e., Henryson*s "A per se"], from whom he 
borrowed so many circumstances in the play.*' Upton was right, I 
think; and if he confused Chaucer and Henry son in 1748, surely it 
was not surprising for Shakespeare to do this in 1600 and to borrow, 
perhaps unconsciously, the phrase which he had read in Chaucer's 

According to the New English Dictionary, Henryson first used the 
phrase. It came early to be a commonplace among the Scotch poets — 
see, for example, Sibbald's Chronicle of Scottish Poetry, vol. in, pp. 
169, 187, 361, 363, 496; Ovde and Qodlie Ballatis, ed. A. F. Mitchell, 
p. 147 — but was not especially common in England before 1600. In 

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medes (V, ii, 89 f.), " 'Twas one's that lov'd me better 
than you will/' is unquestionably a reference to Henry- 
son's story ; and when she finally surrendered to Diomedes, 
crying, "Ay, come — O Jove! — do come. I shall be 
plagvfd^^ (V, ii, 105), her hearers must surely have 
thought of the Testament But one can only marvel — as 
Dryden, who knew almost nothing of the history of the 
story, did for other reasons — at the ending of the play 
which leaves both Troilus and Cressida alive. 

Dr. Georg Brandos found in _Shake82eare's_attitude to- 
wards Cressida " passionate heat and hatred," " boundless 
bitterness." " His mood is the more remarkable in that he 
in no wise paints her as unlovable or corrupt ; she is merely 
a shallow, frivolous, sensual, pleasure-loving coquette . . 
Shakespeare has aggravated and pointed every circum- 
stance until Cressida becomes odious, and rouses only 
aversion. One is astounded by the bitterness of the hatred 
he discloses." ^^^ In the light of the history of the love \ 
story, the remarkable thing really is that Shakespeare \ 
dealt with her so mildly, for the subject of the play must 
have been extremely distasteful to him. Certainly he has 
no apparent bitterness towards Cressida : he does not pun- . 
ish her as did Henryson ; he does not ma:ke her a common \ 
harlot as did Henryson, Whetstone, Howell, and the rest ; 
nor does he make her the wholly contemptible creature of \ 

Turbervile's Tragical Tales, 1587 (Edinburgh reprint, 1837, p. 297), 
occur the lines : 

That famous Dame, fayre Helen, lost her hewe 

When withred age with wrinckles chaungd her cheeks. 

Her louely lookea did loathsomnesse ensewe. 

That was the A per se of all the Greekes. 
The fact that Turbervile was so fond of referring to the Henryson 
story, as well as the context of the above lines, makes it practically 
certain that he borrowed the phrase from Henryson. 

^WUliQ^n Shakespeare (English translation), London, 1898, pp. 


^' Digitized by GoOglC 


Heywood's or the miserable leprosy-stricken b^gar of the 
Dekker-Chettle play. 

When one considers also the other arguments that have 
been advanced by critics, it seems probable that in 1599 
Shakespeare's play was ordered by the Chamberlain's com- 
pany to compete with the two Troy plays of the Admiral's 
men, that for some reason it was not finished and " clapper- 
clawed with the palms of the vulgar " but was put aside 
for a year or two, and that the last few scenes, the work of 
another hand with slight revisions by Shakespeare, wera 
added for the performance about 1602. For it is almost 
incredible that, with his knowledge of Henryson, his pre- 
conceived ideas of the character of Cressid and the reward 
of her treachery, and his respect for what the public 
\ wanted, Shakespeare should have ended his play without 
at least punishing Cressid. How can the present ending 
have pleased his audiences? Even the groundlings, how- 
ever much delighted with Thersites and Pandar, surely 
were dissatisfied when the play abruptly dropped the lead- 
ing characters instead of carrying them on to the logical 
and traditional denoiwmerd. What American audience 
would care to see Uncle Tom's Cabin if no Little Eva ap- 
peared in the cast or if Eliza failed to cross the ice? 
Sha:kespeare, if he wrote all the play, wrenched the f amilr 
iar story as violently in one direction as Dryden later did 
in another; neither version could have been satisfactory 
in 1602. 

Apart from the absurd mercenary puff in the preface to 
the quarto of 1609, this " Commedie " received no con- 
temporary praise. ^Vhen Mr. John Munroe published the 
Shdkspere Allusion-Booh in 1909, he could point out only 
three references to Troilus and Cressida before 1650; two 
of these — Dekker's mention in The Wonderful Year 
(1604) of " false Cressida," which is purely conventional 

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but as much an allusion to his own play as to Shake- 
speare's, and a line in Marston's Dutch Courtesan (1605), 
" Sometimes a fall out proves a falling in,'' which is said 
to be an imitation of Pandar's " Falling in after falling 
out may make them three " — do not seem to me to be allu- / 
sions to Shakespeare. Of the sixteen allusions given for 
the years 1660-1700, one is a remark in Collier's Short 
View that " Shakespear makes Hector quote Aristotle's 
philosophy," another Dryden's discussion of the play in 
the preface to his revision of it, six are quotations inserted 
in Cotgrave's English Treasury (1655), and the other 
eight are matter-of-fact statements in Langbaine's work on 
the dramatic poets. Shakespeare had no influence what- 
ever on the Troilus-Cressida story. He himself never 
again referred to Troilus or Cressida or Pandar ; and al- 
though their story was not so popular in the seventeenth 
as in the sixteenth century, yet there are bountiful allu-j 
sions up to 1640 to the constancy of Troilus, the falsity 
and leprosy of Cressid. 

When in 1679 Dryden resurrected the play, refurbished ■ ^ 
it, and invented Cressida's constancy, he found himself 
chiefly pleased by the characters Pandar and Thersites. ■ 
Furthermore, although he declared that " the original 
story was written by one LoUius, a Lombard, in Latin 
verse, [and was] intended, I suppose, a satire on the incon- 
stancy of women," he saw no bitterness or satire, no jeal- 
ousy, no debasement of the classical heroes, but only early 
experimentation, in Shakespeare's TroUus and Cressida. 
As that play stands, indeed, Cressida has been decidedly 
pulled out of the mire in which Henryson's followers had 
placed her. Yet we could feel surer that Shakespeare was 
responsible for all of the play if he had punished Cres- \ 
sida, — if in portraying her he had unmistakably shown \ 
bitterness and hatred. 

Hydbb E. Rollins. 

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Als Vorbediirfnis fiir das Studium der deutschen Dra- 
maturgie in ihrer historischen Entwicklung erscheint ein 
tJberblick der wichtigsten asthetischen Anschauungen zu- 
vorderst unentbehrlich. Statt jedoch dazu die Hilfe der 
historischen Asthetik einzumfen, wird in dieser Arbeit 
der Versuch gewagt, den asthetischen Hintergrund aus 
den Ausserungen zeitgenossischer Dramatiker heranszu- 
forschen und neu zu beleben. Der Hilferuf an die As- 
thetik ware hier iibrigens unbeachtet verklungen, denn die 
Geschichte der Asthetik hat bis jetzt fast ausschliesslich 
das an sich Wertvolle und Interessante, oder das Hi- 
storisch-bedeutende beriicksichtigt. Andererseits zieht die 
angewandte Asthetik der litterarischen Kunstform, nam- 
lich die Kritik, meistens nur die Benifskritiker und 
kaum je das Massenpublikum in ihre Betrachtung hinein. 
Eine kiilturgeschichtliche Asthetik, ebensosehr bemiiht, die 
pathetisch-niichtemen Ideale des Biirger- oder Yolks- 
dramas darzustellen, gibt es bis heute noch nicht. Und 
doch batten solche Studien fiir die Asthetik, wie fiir die 
Litteraturgeschichte, ohne Zweifel ihren Nutz. Deshalb, 
und mehr noch, weil das Material bei den Yorarbeiten zu 
einer Geschichte der deutschen Dramaturgic leicht er- 
reichbar war, ist f olgender Yersuch entstanden. 

Selbst in Zeitaltem regen intellektuellen Lebens fallt 
es dem Kritiker schwer, den asthetischen Hintergrund 
mit Sicherheit zu bestimmen. TJmso schwerer gestaltet 
sich die Aufgabe fiir Perioden, in denen, wie im Deutsch- 
land des 16. Jahrhunderts, die Theologie das Leben be- 

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herrschte, oder wie im 17. Jahrhundert, das Land, d«n 
Ej-ieg anheimgef alien, oder aber an den Folgen der Ver- 
heerung siechend, litterariscli erschopft darniederlag. 
Aber selbst aus dem triiben asthetischen Hintergrund des 
16. Jahrhunderts in Deutschland losen sich, unbestimmt 
jedoch wahmehmbar, folgende Fragen heraus: Was ist 
ein Drama ? Wozu soil es dienen ? Mit welchen Mitteln 
erreicht es das ihm gesteckte Ziel? — also Fragen iiber 
Wesen, Zweck und Wirkungsmittel des Dramas. 
Diese Fragen in ikrer Samtlichkeit zu behandeln war der 
erste Schritt.^ Zunachst, bei erspriesslich wachsendem Ma- 
terialvorrat, wurde es moglich die einzelnen Punkte abzu- 
sondem irnd genauer zu bestimmen, bis endlich ein jeder, 
in seiner historischen Entwicklimg, verfolgt werden 

Die Frage vom Wesen des Dramas samt dem eng damit 
verflochtenen Problem von den Wirkungsmitteln desselben 
werden in kurzem an anderm Orte behandelt.^ Die vor- 
liegende Arbeit beabsichtigt die Frage vom Zweck des 
Dramas zu untersuchen, mit dem Yerstande, dass von den 
speziellen Zwecken des Schuldramas nicht die Rede sein 
wird.* Der terminus ad quem ist die Erscheinung von 
Gottscheds Critische Dichtkunst vor die Deutschen, im 
Jahre 1730. 

Die Grundfarbe des imbestimmten Bildes, aus dem wir 
verstandlicb-zusammenhangende Ziige herauszulesen ver- 
suchen werden, ist einformig und Farbenschema sowie 
Formenperspektiv der einzelnen Ziige werden zum Teil 

* Cf. Da8 Ziel des Dramas in Deutschland vor Oottached, Vortrag 
gehalten in der Oesellschaft fUr Deutsche Litteratur, in Berlin, am 
18. Juni 1913. Abgedmckt in Modem Philology, Bd. xn, 8. 481 flf. 

• Modem Philology. 

'Eine absonderliche Arbeit ttber den Zweck des Schuldramas wird 
spftter erschein^. 

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durch sie bedingt. Es ist die Didaktik^ tausendfaltig, 
alles-umfaBsend, alles-durchdringend. 

Das Mittelalter lebt sich aus im 16. Jahrhundert. Die 
Vorherrschung des Didaktischen lag in der Natur einer 
Zeit, wo ein Dichter wie Fischart samtliche Errungen- 
schaften der Kunst, keinesw^ mit Hinsicht auf ihre 
asthetische Wirkung, sondem lediglich wegen des ethi- 
schen Nutzens ihres Inhaltes, zu wiirdigen und anzu- 
preisen wusste. Schwer driickte die Didaktik auf einem 
2feitalter, das einer ^nrfrtortJbersetzung dreizehn Seiten 
iiber die Pflichten der Hebammen als Erklarung einer 
einzigen Stelle beizugeben vermochte.* Im 16. Jahr- 
hundert ist die Biihne durchaus emst. Im Vordergrund 
steht die Lehre, wie schon aus den Titeln der Drucke 
hervorgeht : " Darinn angezeigt wird . . ." ; " In welli- 
chem erlemet wird . . ." ; " Dienlichen wie man ...''; 
usw. Greff betont wiederholt, " das mans [nicht] fiir 
narrenspiel halten solle," oder dass man nicht glauben 
solle, "Das wir woltn toll und thoricht sein'' und dass 
'^es sey kein narren weis."^ Vielmehr ist die Mission 
eines Dramatikers eine wiirdige, erhabene. Auch Cul- 
man protestiert, man moge die Schauspieler in seinem 
Drama Von der widtfrojw nicht fiir " spielleut " halten, 
" die narrenteidung bringen fiir." Denn er behauptet, 
sein Tun sei " gottlich und recht." * Dem Publikum 
wird oft aufs Herz gedriickt, man solle 

nit ein spott vnd ein schimpff druss machen.* 

«Zu in, 3 in Steph. Kiccius' tbersetzimg, 1582 Terfaset, 1613 
gedruckt. Cf. Mangold, Studien zu den dlteaten Buhnenverdeut- 
aohungen des Terenz, Halle, 1912. 

'Aulularia, 1535; Andria, 1536; Judith, 1536. 

* 1544, ap. Zellweker, Prolog und Epilog im deuiaohen Drama, 
Wien n. Leipzig, 1906, S. 69. 

*Zach. Bletz(7), AntichriBtapieU, Luzern, 1549 au^f. Reoschels 
Abdruck, "V*8. 34. Dieser Vers wurde u. a. an Stelle dea ursprting- 

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Wohl im Glegenteil: 

Dann die tragedj ist nit ein 
fasznachspiel oder sonst ein schertz 
beregt [sic] ein yegklicher sein hertz 
zu sondrem auffmercken.* 

Selbst Fastnachtsspiele gingen voll unumwundenen 
Ernstes auf Belehrung auB. Selbflt die komiBchen Par- 
tieen in Lud. HoUonius' Somnium vitue humanae (1606) 
sollen lehrhaf t wirken : 

Sonet wird etwas doch auch zu lehr 
Und Zier des Spiels eingeflihrt beyher. 

Aber das Volk war offenbar nicht iminer einverstanden 
mit dem Schulfuchs, fiir den die "Lehr" zugleich die 
" Zier " des Dramas war, und muss dies auch oft unzwei- 
deutig gezeigt haben. Mit milder Sehnsucht spricht ja 
der alte Notarius Ayrer : 

Wer euch nun wollt von dem Anfang 
Noch lang bis her zu dem Ausgang ^ 
Aus der Geschicht was ntttzlichs lehren, 
So thftt ihr im doch nicht zuhOren, 
Denn ihr hort kurze Predigt gem, 
Wann die Bratwtirst desto Iftnger wHm.* 

Bei dem protestantischen Dramatiker wird die Drama- 
tupgie fast zu einer Weihe. Als man deshalb dem Nao- 
georg vorwarf, Tragoedienschreiben sei eines Theologen 
unwiirdig, entgegnete er: "Cur autem dedeceat profes- 
sionem meam ? Si Theologiae officium est docere pietatem 

lichen Textes gesetzt. S. auch Josias Murers Belaegerung der Stat't 
Babylon, 1560; Lucas Mai, Von der wunderharlichen Vereinigung 
gottlioher Qerechtigkeit und Barmherzigkeit, Wittenb., 1662. 

• Seb. Wild, Passionsspiel, 1566. 

• Opua theatricum, 1618, S. 322. Auch Dam. Lindtner, der Bearbei- 
ter von Naogeorgs Esther ( 1607 ) , beklagt sich bitter, dass man jetzt 
mehr Geschmack an weltlichen als an geistlichen Sachen finde. 

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uenunque Dei cultmn, & uitam Deo plaoentem bonaque 
opera tradere, atque e religione reprehendere impietatem, 
fakumque cultus uitamque prauam, haec omnia quoque 
nostris insirnt Tragoediis, & eflScatius quodammodo do- 
centur." *^ 

Leider war diese hohe Auffassung nur allzu oft mit 
einem grenzenlosen Vertrauen in der tlberzeugungskraft 
der direkten, imumwundenen Moralisierung verbnnden. 
Wie dieses schon im Drama des Mittelalters allgemeine 
Sitte war, ist bekannt. Auch wie selbst Hans Sachs, der 
doch einsieht, dass Fastnachtspiele hauptsachlich belu- 
stigen sollen, die seinigen mit der Bemerkung herausgibt, 
dass sie auch " nit allein kurtzweilig, Sondern anch niitz- 
lich zelesen [sind], weyl vast yedes stiick mit einer ange- 
henckten lehr beschlossen ist." ^^ In Thomas Bircks Co- 
media von den Doppelspielem ^^ findet sich ein ansfiihr- 
liches Register, in Indexform, der im Stiick enthaltenen 
guten Lehren! Es muss einem jeden auffallen, wie un- 
verschamt didaktisch im 16. Jahrhundert fiir die ver- 
schiedensten Zwecke geeifert wird: fiir die Reinheit der 
Ehe, fiir Kinderzucht, selbst fiir Kriegskunst. Ambrosius 
Papes David victus et victor (1602) beabsichtigt nam- 
lich den jungen Biirgem und Gtjsellen " Vorbereitungen 
zimi Kriege, Ausfalle der Feinde und Niederlagen auf 
beiden Seiten '^ vorzufiihren.^® Christ. Bachmann aus 
Leipzig sucht die Komoedie dadurch zu rechtfertigen, 
dass sie alles lehren kann. Frischlin habe Theologie ge- 
lehrt in seinem Phasma, Ayrer, Jurisprudenz in seinem 
Processum juris. Man konnte auch wohl Heilkunde 

'• Iu4as lacariotes, 1562. 
^ Qedichte, Nttrnberg, 1558, Bd. i, Vorrede. 
"Tiibingen, 1590. 

"Cf. Holstein, Die Reformation im Spiegelhilde der dramatieohen 
Diohtung, Halle, 1886, S. 98. 

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lehren: ^^ In medicina herbas loquentes aliquis in scenam 
introducere posset." Unterdessen begniigt dieser Theo- 
retiker sich damit, eine Comoedia nova z\x verfassen, 
Melcmcholicus geheissen, "exhibens ingenium, proprie- 
tates, mores, virtutes, vitia ac quaecunque ad illos homi- 
nes pertinere videntnr, qui temperamenti sunt Melan- 
cholici " (1611). Seine Siinde sei ihm leicht! 

Nun mag letzteres ein Schuldrama sein, und auf den 
Schulbrettem werden wir wennmoglich noch Schlimmerem 
begegnen. Aber selbst in Pastoralen im 17. Jahrhundert 
wurde Didaktik offen angepriesen. Die G^lehrsamkeit 
der Hirten, wie man weiss, ist nicht selten erstaunlich. 
Die lehrhafte All^orie beherrschte die Biihne. Schul- 
dramen extremer Art waren hier nur zu leicht anzuf iihren, 
aber selbst " der Spate " (Caspar von Stieler) meinte in 
der Vorrede seines Lustspieles Willmttt (1680), wo nur 
Begriffe auftreten: "Es konte auch iede Person ein Ge- 
wisses Merk haben/ wann es nicht zu schulfiichsisch her- 
aus kame. Auf dergleichen Art konten nun alle andere 
Lehrschriften/ gleich der Ethica alhier/ in Schauspielen 
vorgestellet werden/ Herr Harsdorfer hat in seinen Gte- 
sprachspielen unter anderm den Versuch mit der Gram- 
matica und Oratoria getan/ es ware auch wol moglich die 
theoreticas disciplinas/ ja aogar die vier facultaten auf 
den Schauplatz zu bringen/ und durch den Ausgang iedes 
Spiels den rechten Zweck einer ieden Disciplin vorstellen.'' 
Wie Stieler sagt, hatte Harsdorfer in seinen Oesprdch- 
spielen versucht, dem vorherrschenden didaktischen Ha:iige 
eine eigene dramatische Ausdrucksf orm zu schaffen. Man 
weiss, mit welchen unglaublichen antiquarisch-gelehrten 
Einleitungen die Lohenstein und Hoffmannswaldau ihren 
Dramen Gewicht beizusetzen versuchten, eine Sitte, welche 
Opemlibrettisten, Feind, Praetorius, Konig und andere. 

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wohl zur Veredlimg ihrer leichten Ware, mit oft erstaim- 
lichem Fleisse nachalimten.** 

« « « 

Der Einfluss der Didaktik sei also nicht imterschatzt. 
Wenn im Bewusstsein eines jeden Lesers der Gedanke fest- 
liegt, dass besondere Zwecke in jeder Hinsicht dem Haupt- 
zweck dienstbar sind, dann erst wird es sicli lohnen, jene 
weiter au imtersuchen. Die besonderen Zwecke lassen 
sich in folgende Absciinitte einteilen: (i) Sittenlehre, (ii) 
Lebensweisheit, (in) Selbstkenntnis, (iv) Glanben, (v) 
Erziehung des gemeinen Mannes, (vi) Erhaltung des 
Standesbewusstseins, (vii) Politik. 


Noch ganz allgemein gehalten erscheint die Absicht, 
durch das Drama die sittliche Hebung der Znschauer zu 
bewirken. Im Donaueschinger Passionsspiel hat man 
"das register des lidens Jhesn Christi unsers behalters, 
zu spriichen gesetzt, in mass das man das der welt zu gut 
und andacht spillen mag.'' ^^ In der Egerer Passion wird 
der Zuschauer angemahnt: 

secht die figur mit Fleisze an, 

das da von gepessert werdt frau und man." 

Die Mahnung erscheint berechtigt, wenn man annimmt, 
dass " alle Comedien und Tragedien/ zu nichts anders 
geschriben seind/ als ein yedlicher gelerter leycht erkendt/ 
dann zu besserung des lebens/ und zu vermeydimg alles 
ubermuts.'' ^^ Es schimmert hier schon durch, nament- 

"S. z. B. Feinds Dido, 1707, oder sein DesideriuSf KdfUg der 
Longoharden, 1709. 
" Froning, Das Drama dea Mittelaltera, D. N. L., S. 277. 
"Hrsg. V. Milchsack, Stuttg. Litt. Ver., Nr. 106. 
" Job. Kolros, 8pyl von Funfferlay hetraohtnilssen, 1635. 

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lich in den letzten Worten, dass der Zweck des Dramas 
nichts weniger sein konnte als das Begriinden einer Welt- 
anschauung. Wenn auch die Erfassung eines solchen 
Zieles die geistigen Krafte der meisten Dramatiker iiber- 
triflft, so tritt jedoch der Gedaiike, getragen vom reforma- 
torisch-humanistischen Gteiste, nicht selten in Hinsicht auf 
die Tragodie, hervor. 

Meistens ist die Mahnung ganz unbestimmt: 

Das man der Dugent hangte an 
Die laster w5lte faren lan.^ 

Oder dass 

. . . das menschliche Geschlecht 
AUzeit geleitted wtbrde recht/ 
Durch mancherley Mittel und Weg/ 
Auff den Einigen Rechten Steg 
Der Tugend und Vorsichtigkeit." 

Fast immer wird als Inb^riff aller Weisheit die christ- 
liche Glaubenslehre datgestellt. Wir sollen: 

pie ad divini verbi regulam 
vitam moresqne nostros formare.* 

" Vitam moresque " ; bin und wieder wird hervorgehoben, 
dass der Zweck des Dramas nicht bloss sei, " das man sich 
darinne spiegle," sondem auch " das man sein leben dar- 
nach stell." ^* Die Zuschauer sollen '^ gebessert und er- 
bauet" werden,^^ aber auch 

" G. Binder, Acolastua, 1536. 

^Wolfh. Spangenberg, Teuiache Argumenta Oder InhcUt der 
Tragoedien/ dea Orieohiachen Poeten Euripidie: genand Hecuba. 
Strassb., 1605. 

•• Aeg. Hunnius, Joseph, Tl. i, 1584, 1586, 1614. 8pftter citiert von 
J. C. Merck, Vom erhUrmlichen Untergang unnd Verderhen Sodomae 
(ans dem Lateinischen des Andreas Saurius), Ulm, 1617. 

" CI. Stephani, Hietoria von einer Kdnigin aue Lamparden, 1551. 
Cf. auch J. Funckelins Bpyl von Lazaro, 1552. 

"J. Rist, AUer-EdeUte Beluetigung, 1665, S. 181. 

Digitized by 



Ein jeder wird gelehrt durch das Comddispielen 
Worauf in seinem than er weiBlich solle zielen." 

Oder mit den Worten J. C. Mannlings: eine Komodie 
wird "zu einer Nach-Folg© w^en eines Tugendhafften 
Lebens und Thuns vorgestellet" ^* Gottsched gibt der 
vorherrschenden Ansicht dreier Jahrhimderte Ausdmck, 
wo er sagt : " Die gantze Fabel hat nur eine Haupt-Ab- 
sicht: nehmlich einen moralischen Satz." ^^ 

Hans Sachs und iiberhaupt die Verf asser von Fatetnacht- 
spielen stehen der Wirklichkeit naher. Ihre Anmah- 
nungen haben einen unmittelbaren, greifbaren Zweck: 

Ir lieben christen all gemein 

last euch das spiel ein wamung sein, 

Nit Bolch grosc sfindt und unrecht thut." 

^' Wie Hans Sachs selbst seinen TJmgang mit den Musen 
als ein kraftiges Wehrmittel gegen die Laster der Welt 
betrachtet, so soUen auch seine Werke f iir den Horer und 
Leser eine ahnliche Wirkung haben." Seine " Moral ist 
niichtem, hausbacken, auf das nachste gerichtet und zieht 
alles in seine etwas tagtagliche, aber tUchtige Sphare." ^'^ 
Im Verband mit dieser Neigung steht die Absicht in ge- 
wissen Dramen, die Zuschauer und Leser gegen spezifische 
Siinden zu wamen. " Stichus Plautinus pudicitiam ac 
maritalem fidem etiam in sinistra fortuna servandam esse 
docens " ist der Titel einer Werlerschen Ausgabe.*® Als 
Gengenbach seine Oouchmatt (1516) schrieb, hatte er eine 
bestimmte Absicht. Denn man hatte 

*• G. F. Seufferheld, Der Nahrende Joseph, 1687. 
•• Der Europaeische Helicon, Alten Stettin, 1704, S. 176. 
" Critische Dichtkunsty 1730, S. 573. 
«• KeUer-GStze, Nr. 70. 

"Lier, Studien z, Gesoh. d. Niumherger Faatnaohtapieis, i, Nflm- 
berg, 1889, S. 38. 

■• 1612. Ap. Buchwald, Oreff, Leipzig, 1907, S. 38. 

Digitized by 



kftrtzlich lassen vszgan 

ein gedicbt vnd das auch trucken Ian 

wie das vnkeuschheit sy kein slindt. 

Gegen solche Lehren will er nachdriicklichen Protest ein- 
legen und sein Stiick verfolgt deshalb einen ganz speziellen 
Zweck : den Kampf gegen sexuelle Ausschreitnngen, " wi- 
der den Eebruch vnd die siind der vnkiischheit." Vor 
" iinmassiger Lieb " warnten nicht nur die vielen 
Ehestandsdramen, sondem auch, wie z. B. Stephani be- 
hauptet, etwa der Eumbchus! ^® Als Chph. Stiimmel, 
der Geselle von Willichius' Sohnen sein a:usserordentlich 
beliebtes Stiick Stvdentes (1.549) schrieb, dann geschah 
dies nicht bloss mit dem Zweck, das Studentenleben dem 
Philister vorzuf iihren, sondem mit den praktisch-ethischen 
Ansichten, denen sein Frennd und Gonner schon friiher 
Ausdruck g^eben hatte : " Quoniam adolescentuli amasii 
ab amore vilissimo scortorum ad legitimum matrimonium 
fere pelliciuntur, & reuocantur, ut honestam vitam vivant, 
resque familiares curent, genusque vitae certum institu- 
ent." ^^ Das war aber nicht der Hauptzweck. Die Ke- 
formation, mit Luther an der Spitze, war iiberschwenglich 
gewesen in ihrem Lob des heiligen Ehestandes. Die Ehe- 
standsdramen, nainentlich die Tobiasdramen, gingen sehr 
haufig iiber die Biihne, wodurch in den protestantischen 
Universitatsstadten, namentlich unter den Studenten, eine 
Unzahl iibereilter Eheschliessungen veranlasst wurde.®^ 
Eben dagegen richtete sich Stiimmel, als er betonte, dass, 
mit Bezug auf die Ehe : " hoc volo, ut aperte & honeste cum 
consensu Parentum utriusque partis hoc contrahatur/' ®^ 

"HS. tJbers. von Andria und Eunuchus, 1654, ap. Creizenach, 
Gesoh. d, n. Dramas, Halle a. S., Bd. m (1903), S. 411. 
" Willichius, Commentaria ad Artem Poeiicam HoratU, 1545, S. 14 f . 
" Cf. Creizenach, I. c, Bd. n, S. 171. 
" Studentes. 

Digitized by 


440 JOS. B. aiLLBT 

Die Absicht anderer Komodien vom Studentenleben war 
iiberhaupt der Sittenverwilderung bei den Studenten em 
Ende zu machen.'* 

Noch tiefer wurde ins alltagliche Leben eingegriffen, 
als Greff die Meinung aussprach : " Und ist kein spiel so 
klein noch so geringe/ man kan und sol was darans ler- 
nen/ wie man sieh hiiten sol/ itzt f iir hurerey und unziich- 
tiger lieb/ itzt fiir fressen/ sauffen/ spielen/ und der- 
gleiehen ^' und dabei die Sitte riihmt, " wie in dem Nidder- 
landt/ fast alle Sontage " Spiele aufgefiihrt werden, " da- 
mit manch Gottes lesterung/ mancher todtschlag/ sauflFen/ 
fressen und viel ubels verbleiben kondte." ** Es befleis- 
sigten sich dann auch die Dramaturgen absichtlich fiir 
die Fastnacht Schauspiele zu verfertigen, um damit ihre 
Mitbiirger vor dem Anlass zur Siinde zu schiitzen, z. B. 
Birck in Basel,®* Peter Jordann in Koln,*® Ackermann in 
Zwickau ®^ und andere. Leseberg meint, durch die Auf- 
fiihning seines Stiiekes sollen namentlich " die Spectanten 
aus der Qemein/ von dem unmassigen Fressen und 
Sauffen abgehalten werden." '® Und nicht nur die Spec- 
tanten, konnte man hinzufiigen, sondem auch bisweilen 
die Akteure. Es war auch, wie es scheint, ein nicht un- 
gewohnliches Argument zu Gunsten des Dramas, dass 
durch Mitwirken bei dramatisehen Auffiihrungen vor 
VoUerei \md anderen Ausschweifungen bewahrt wurde. 
Aber schon Lucas Mai beschwert sich dariiber, dass die 
Mitspieler nur Gelegenheit suchen, " Was zubekomen/ 
das zum schlemmen thet." •* Und ein geistliches Gut- 

"Cf. E. Schmidt, Komddien vom Studentenleben, Leipzig, ISSO. 
( Stttmmel, Wichgref, Schoch, Picander.) 
■• Aulularia-iih,, 1535. Cf. auch Greff s Spiel von den ertzvdtem, 
" Judith ; Beel, 1535. " Tobias. 

** Joseph, 1540. ^ Jesus Duodecennis, 1610. 

• Von der umnderbarlichen Vereinigung uaw., 1562. 

Digitized by 



achten vom Jahre 1582 weigert das herkommliche Argu- 
ment gelten zu lassen^ denn die Akteure batten sich das 
vorige Mai " wie die Bestien betrunken." *^ Hans Rudolf 
Manuel liess sein Weinspiel auffiihren: 


Das man drin leer flpilen und suffen, 
Sunder wie ich ttch vor gseyt hab. 
Das man dardurch soil sehen an, 
Wie eg eim so ttbel anstadt, 
Der mit solchem Ulben umbgadt.*^ 

Und auch R. Gualtherus' Ndbal wurde auf die Biihne 
gebracht, um vor der Trunksucht zu wamen.^^ Ahnliche 
praktische, konkrete Zwecke verfolgten aucb eine Menge 
biblischer Dramen, deren Hauptpersonen als Vertreter 
irgend einer spezifischen Tugend oder eines spezifischen 
Lasters erscheinen: Isaak als Muster des kindischen Gle- 
horsams, Susanna als Vorbild der ehelichen Treue, Joseph 
als Beispiel der mannliehen Keuschheit, Absolon als Ver- 
korperung der ^^Hoffahrt" und dgl. mehr. 

Mit dem 16. Jahrhundert scheint die Auffassung vom 
Drama als Kampfmittel gegen grosse soziale Schaden ver- 
schwunden zu sein. Zwar behauptet Rotth am Ende des 
17. Jabrhunderts, dass man auf der Biibne gegen " Fres- 
sen/ Sauffen/ TVHicbem/ Courte Sire [sic] " usw. wamen 
konne. Docb erklart er selber, dieses "geboret alleine 
vor eine Satyram " d. h. nicbt in eine Komodie oder Tra- 

^Besprochen von M. Koch, Zach. /. veigl, Litgesoh. u, Renaiss. 
Lit., Bd. xm (1899), S. 202 flf. Schon bei Alt, Theater und Kirche, 
1846, S. 491. 

« 1548. Odingas Ausg., S. 64. 

^ t)b. V. Seb. Griibel, 1669 aufgef. Cf. auch das gegen die " Sauflf- 
brtider " gerichtete Zwischenspiel in W. Spangenbergs Verdeutschung 
von Hirtzwigs Bahasar, 1609 imd Hammes, Daa Zuoisch^enspiel im 
deutachen Drama, Berlin, 1911, S. 109. 

Digitized by 


442 JOS. E. aiLLBT 

godie.** tJbrigens waren die Sitten zu gaiant geworden, 
dass man auf der Biihne die demokratischen Laster des 
Pobels hatte bestreiten wollen. 

II. Lebensweisheit 

Wie soil nun die Verbesserang der Sitten erreicht wer- 
den? Mittelbar durch bessere Kenntnis des Lebens, der 
Tugenden, welche als Exempel dargestellt werden, der 
Laster, die als Absehreckung dienen sollen. Hierauf be- 
ruhte die grosse Beliebtheit des Terenz. Schon in mittel- 
alterlichen Terenz-Handschriften wird hervorgehoben, 
dass man in seinen Komodien lemen konne, was man im 
Leben zu tun und zu vermeiden habe, eine Ansicht, welche 
das 16. Jahrhundert voUig teilte. Die Nordlinger Schiller 
soUten aus dem Terenz namlich '^nit allein die Worte, 
sondem auch den Sinn und die Sitten der Menschen " 
kennen lernen.** Aus einer Komodie lerne man, sagt 
Hans Nythart " was gut ist zegebrauchen, und das Bosz 
zemeiden,"**^ oder " zu pflantzin tugend und vermeydung 
laster." Job. Murmelius fasst den Gedanken in ein He- 
xasticbon : 

Hinc licet amplecti rectos pravoeque cavere, 
Cum videt eventus mens utriusque viae ....*• 

Und Friedrich Nausea citierte den Grammatiker Dona- 
tus: "quid in uita sit utile, quid contra euitandum disci- 

*• Vollstdndige dmtache Poesie, Leipzig, 1688, 8. 71. Er melnt 
hier natdrlich ein satirisches Drama. 

*• NOrdlinger Schulordnung, 1521; cf. J. MftUer, Vor- und fruh- 
reformatorische Schulordnungen, Zschoppau, 1885-1886, S. 218. 

"* Eunuch-iihers., 1486. 

*Vor Ant. Tunnicius' Ausg. von Reuchlins Scaenica progymnas- 
mata, Daventriae, 1513, cit. in Holstein's Ausgabe von Reuchlins 
Komddien, Halle, 1888, S. 57. 

Digitized by 



tur." *^ Joachhn Greff beteuert, dass " jdermenniglich 
aus solchen Oomedijs und Spektakeln lernen solt und 
kondt/ was jderman wol odder iibel anstiindt/ was gut 
odder bos/ was loblich und ehrlich/ widderumb was 
schendlich und unehrlich were." ^* Was ihm Clemens 
Stephani nachredet. Er beabsichtigt : 

.... das das Volck darinn solt sehen 
Was einen nit wol an wolt stehen: 
Denn man sich drin wie in spiegel 
Was einem wolsteht oder ubel 
Was wol ansteht/ sol man annemen 
Desz aber sol man sich schemen.^ 

Job. Criiginger verspricht Belehrung hieriiber, wie man 
das "leben nach gutem beyspiel richten/ vor bosem aber 
sich hiiten " sollte.^^ Birck erklarte sich zufrieden, wenn 
seine Dramen seinen Zoglingen eine richtige Auffassung 
der Gterechtigkeit beigebracht batten : " operae pretium 
aliquod facere mihi visus sum, si de perplexis causis per 
lusum disceret decemere, et tum demum iustitiae pulchre 
consultimi esse, si aequitas iuris rigorem emendaret." ^^ 
Umfassend dargestellt, sei der Zweck der Komodie, nach 
Agricola: "ut ex propositis communium morum & euen- 
tuum immanorum paradigmatic commonefacti rectius 
iudicaremus de negotijs hominum omniimi." ^^ Hans 
Sachs hat den dritten, ausschliesslich dramatischen Band 

^ Primordia, 1521, 17ro. Cf. Aeli Donati . . . Oommentum Te- 
renti, ed. P. Wessner, Leipzig, 1902, Bd. i, S. 22. 

"* Aulularia-m,, 1535. 

*• Von einer Mulnerin und jren Pf<irherr, 1568. Cf. auch L. Cul- 
mans Spiel von der auffrur der Erham wether zu Rom, 154( ?), "aus 
dem ein jeder lernen kund/ Was im wol oder ubel anstund . . ." und 
Job. Sanders' Johannes der Tdufer, 1588, aus dem man leme "was 
wol oder ubel elm jeglichen in sein stande und beruff anstebet." 

•• Lazarus, 1543. " Susanna, 1537. 

"Andrwt-tJbers., 1544; Witeb., 1602. 

Digitized by 


444 JOS. B. eiLLBT 

seiner Werke (1561) in drei Teile zerlegt Und zwar 
enthalt " Der ander theil weltlich, alt Histori, ausz den 
Poetn vnd Geschichtschreibem, die zu anreitzung der gu- 
ten Tugendt^ vnnd zu abschneidnng der schendlichen 
laster dienstlich sind." Es mag notig gewesen sein, letz- 
teres nachdriicklich zu wiederholen, denn es geht jetzt 
schlimm zu in der Wtelt, meint Andreas Qttszmann: 

Eines sucht Reichtumb mit Betrug/ 
Der Ander buhlt/ was nicht hat fug/ 
Das Dritt vergiszt der Wohltat bald/ 
Das Vierdte leugt/ treugt mannigfalt." 

Obwohl man sich viel mit dem Drama beschaftigt, den 
moralischen Zweck scheint man nur zu gem zu iibersehen. 
Diesbeziiglich driickt Joseph Goezius seine Entriistung 
aus : Es wird mehr auf das Ausserliche gesehen " als auflF 
den Nutz der Comodien/ in welehen . . . angedeutet 
seyn/ beydes unsers Lebens Tugenden/ der wir uns hoch- 
lich befleissen/ und die Gebrechen/ die wir als Schandmal 
ablegen/ vermeiden und fliehen sollen." ^* Nicht nur der 
Ermunterung soil die Komodie dienen, sondern durch sie 
sollen uns gezeigt werden : " virtutimi cultores & vitiorum 
asseclae, eorundumque proemia ac poenae illustratae." ^ 
Der Herausgeber der Englischen Comoedien und Tragoe- 
dien vom Jahre 1630 beteuert, dass sein " intent darmit 
gewesen, gleich lebendige Exempel der Lust fiirzustellen, 
damit wir lernen, sehen imd erkennen, welcher maszen 
wir imser Leben Biirgerlich, ziichtig und erlich, zu er- 
haltung allerhand Tugenden, und meidung den Liisten 
anrichten sollen.'' ^^ Hist verf asst seine Dramen " nicht 

'*Jo8ephus Tragicomicus, 1603. '^Joseph, 1612. 

"0. Bmlovius, Nehuctidnezar, 1615. 

^ Lieheskampf, 1630. Wie W. Richter (Lieheskampf 1630 vnd 
Schanibuhne 1670, Berlin, 1910) nachgewiesen hat, findet sich eine 
sehr Ohnliche SteUe in der Einleitung zum deutschen Amadis, der 
zu Ende dea 16. Jahrhunderts erschien. 

Digitized by 



nup etwan zur Lust, sondem die bose Weltart und die 
gegenwartigen Zeiten fiirzustellen, auch die ruchlosen 
Menschen von den verfluchten Siindenwegen abzufiihren." 
Wenn hier das praktische Fordem der Lebenskenntnis 
anf einer Stufe erscheint mit der kiinstlerischen, selbst- 
lohnenden Aufgabe, die "gegenwartigen Zeiten fiirzu- 
stellen," so deutet dies auf ein fiir jene 2feit ausserordent- 
lich scharf es Bewnsstsein. In dieser Hinsicht bildet Bist 
natiirlieh eine Ausnahme. Am Ende des 17., wie am 
Ende die 15. Jahrhunderts, ging die landlanfige Anff as- 
sung in Bestimmtheit nieht iiber Kotths Formel hinaus: 
Der Zweck des Schauspiels ist, " dasz entweder die Zu- 
schauer die Fehler und Tugenden des gemeinen mensch- 
lichen Lebens gleichsam spielweise erkennen und sich 
bessern lemen oder doch sonst zu einer Tugend auffge- 
muntert werden." **'' 

III. Selbstkenntnis 

Mehrere Kritiker fassen mit dem Individualismus des 
Protestanten den mittelbaren Zweck ins Auge, Selbst- 
kenntnis, als deren naturgemasse Folge die Besserung der 
Sitten im allgemeinen betrachtet wird. So meint der 
Zurcher Jorg Binder, die Komodie sei ein " Spiegelglasz," 
in welchem " alle Glydmasz " ersehen wurden, auch " was 
hiibsch als [d. h. oder] wiist am menschen sy." '^^ Johann 
Criiginger gibt dieser Gesinnung schlagenden Ausdruck, 
indem er hervorhebt, wie sie als eine christliche, oder 
viehnehr protestantische, Reaktion gegen die vermeint- 
liche Haltung der Alten dem Theater gegeniiber, erscheint. 
Wahrend "der alten Comicorum geticht doch nur den 
mensdien eusserlich im leben vnd sitten informieren," ist 
das Drama der neuen Zeit ein Kunstwerk, in dem " sich 

"L. 0^ 16S8, Bd. in, S. 130. •• Aoote«*ti«-t)berB., 1536. 

Digitized by 



der mensch wie in einem klarem hellen lautern Spiegel 

innerlich besichtiget." ^^ Eine ahnliehe Haltung, je- 

doch ohne die evangelische Tendenz, mag Wolfgang 

Schmeltzls gewesen sein, der von den antiken Spielen 

sagte, dass 

darausz gsehen gelemt vil 

was htibsch, Mszlich am menschen sey.*" 

Am schonsten wird das Ziel von Clemens Stephani dar- 
gelegt : Es sollen " dem Volk Comediae vorgehalten [wer- 
den], auf das 6i sich ires lebens erinnem miigen." *^ 
Vertief ung des Bewusstseins wird also bezweckt, eine Art 
Andaeht des gewohnlichen Lebens, ein biederes Parallel 
zum yp&Oc aeavrSv der hoheren Philosophie. Lebensweis- 
heit, meint Jorg Wickram, ist bedingt durch Menschen- 

kenntnis : 

welcher der welt lauff well erkennen, 
desz schimpfes mag er wol wamemen 
Yon einer person zu der andem, 
wie sich das elter thut verwandem." 

Der Englische Komodiant Eobertus Browne bemerkte in 
seinem Gesuch vom 26. Mai 1606 an den Frankfurter Rat, 
dass '^bis dahin noch kein Mensch dnrch sein nnd seiner 
Gtesellen Spiel geargert, vielmehr zum Bespiegeln seiner 
Schwachheit und zum Ausiiben aller Tugenden angereizt 
sei." ®^ Sogar der Opemverteidiger Barthold Feind be- 
hauptet von den Schauspielen, dass in denselben '^ einem 
fremde Personen einen Spiegel der Selbst-Erkenntnis vor- 
halten." «* 

• Tragddia von Herode und Johanne dem Tauffer, Zwickau, 1545. 

^Comedia des verlomen Sons, Wien, 1645. 

^ EunuchuS'iiheTB,, 1664. 

"Die Zehen alter der Welt, Stuttg. Lit. Ver., S. 232. 

"Ap. E. Mentzel, Oeach. d. Schauspielkunat in Fr. a. M., 1882, 
6. 63. 

*^Die Romisohe Unruhe. Oder: Die EdelmUthige Octavia, Hamb., 

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IV. Deb Glauben 

Dem Mittelalter gait als Hauptzweck des Dramas, das 
heidnische Volk zum Glauben zu bekehren, den Neo- 
phyten zu belehren, den Glaubigen im Glauben zu starken, 
die Kirche und ihre Lehre g^en die Angriffe der Feinde 
zu schiitzen. Im Winter 1204 wurde in Riga ein Ludvs 
prophetarum omatissimum vorgefiihrt " um den Heiden 
die Grundbegriffe des Christentums zur Anschauung zu 
bringen. Der Stoff sei zuerst den anwesenden Neophyten 
und Heiden durch einen Dolmetscher auseinandergesetzt 
worden." ^^ Wie es der Englander St. Aethelwold aus- 
driickte, wird man es auch in Deutschland wohl aufge- 
fasst haben: die Grablegung des Herrn ware also drama- 
tisch vorgestellt worden " ad fidem indocti vulgi ac neo- 
fitorum corroborandam." ®^ " Got gebe," sagte der Pro- 
klamator im Alsfelder Passionsspiel,^'' 

Got gefbe, dasz mer das spiel szo triben, 
das mer got domidde eren 
und alle sunder und sunderyn sich bekeren, 
die disze horen und sehen. 

Man weiss, wie sich der Judenhass in zahlreichen Passions- 
spielen der Mittelalters geaussert hat, in den Disputa- 
tionen zwischen Ecclesia und Syncigoga oder Christiana 
und Judaia, in Vor- und Nach-spielen, mit Augustinus 
als Leiter der Debatte und die Propheten als Protago- 
nisten der " neuen ee." ^® Welchen ausgiebigen Gebrauch 
die Reformation spater vom Drama als Waffen des Glau- 

"Greizenach, I, c, Bd. i, S. 64. 

** Regularis Concordia, vor 979. Of. Chambers, The Medieval Stage, 
Bd. n, S. 808. 

•* 1501-1507 in dieser Fassung aufgeftUirt, Froning, I, a, n, S. 569. 

"Spftter selbst in Fastnachtspielen, Keller Nr. 106 u. a. Ci 
L. Wirth, Oeter- und Paesionapiele, Halle, 1889, S. 34 f. 

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bens, zur Abwehr und zum Angriff gemacht hat, ist auch 

zur Gteniige bekannt. Auf diese Streitdramen, deren 

Zweck deutlich istj wollen wir also nicht eingehen.®® Der 

Praxis war Luther mit der Theorie vorgegangen: "Und 

mag sein," schrieb er, " dasz si [die Juden] solche Qe- 

dichte gespielet haben, wie man bei ims die Passion spie- 

let und anderer Heiligen Geschichte, damit sie ihr Volk 

und die Jugend lehreten, als in einem gemeinen Bilde 

oder Spiel, Gott vertrauen, fromm sein und alle Hilfe und 

Trost von Gott hoffen in alien Noten wider alle Feinde.'^ ^"^ 

G^wisse Dramen soUen beitragen zur Starkung im 

Glauben. L. Culmans Spiel Von der Witfrau (1544) 

hatte sogar den spezifischen Zweck, dass Witwen und 


irs ellends ein ffirbild heten, 
damit eie ihren glauben sterken. 

Greffs Lazarus bezweckt die " sterckung des hochsten und 
notigsten Artickels vnsers heiligen Christlichen glaubens 
von der letzten Aufferstehung.'^ ^^ Ambrosius Pape betont, 
dass in seinem Krippenspiel das Wort Gottes den Unge- 
lehrten bekannt gemacht wird und den andem durch das 
Beispiel eingepragt. ''^ Der Dudesche Schlomer " strafet, 
wamet und trostet sehr/' ^* was, nach Georg Mauricius zu 
urteilen, zur Zeit sehr notwendig war: 

Begegnt nieht heutigs Tags m hand 
Der ChristUchn Kirchen der Zustand? 

••Man braucht hier nur auf Holsteins Buch hinzuweisen. 

" Vorrede zu Buch Judith in der Bibeltlbersetzung von 1634. Erste 
GesamtauBgabe seiner deutschen Bibel im selben Jahre. Walch, Bd. 
XIV, S. 83; hHufig von Dramatikem citiert, noch im 17. Jahrhundert 
von J. S. Mittemacht, Der UnglUokselige Boldat usw., Leipzig, 1662. 

"Wittenb., 1545. 

" Nativitaa Ohrieti, Magdeb., 1682, Puer n. 

"Frankfurter Nachdruck C, 1590. Boltes Ausgabe. 

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Welchr der Teufel mit Macht zusetzt/ 
Tyranneii wider sie verhetzt. 
Da kUmpt der Tttrck/ der Antichrist/ 
Der Teufl mit seiner Muttr da let 
Da regn sich Ketzr und Rottaigeist/ 
Des Judas Kuss man sich auch bfieisst.'^ 

Von katholischer Seite wurde spater auch geeifert, be- 
sonders von den Jesuiten. Der am Anfang de8 17. Jahr- 
hunderts in Tyrol tatige Arzt Guarinoni dachte wohl an 
die Jesuitendramen, als er bezengte, dass " In den gewal- 
tigen und auszerbaulichen Schau- und Horspielen . . . 
eine solche Kraft und Nachdruck [ist], dasz sie nicht 
allein die Rechtglaubigen, sondem auch die Widersacher 
und allerlei Sectische von weitem herzuziehen.'' ''^ Den 
Nutzen der dramatischen Auffiihrung mit Hinsicht auf 
die " propaganda fides," meinte der Braunschweiger Su- 
perintendent Polycarp Leyser " verstehen unsere Wider- 
sacher/ die Jesuiten gar wol/ welche nicht allein mit 
leren/ lesen/ schreiben und predigen/ die arme jugend/ 
und andere jre Zuhorer schendlich verfiiren/ sondem auch 
viel imd offt Comoedias, und dieselbige mit grosser pomp 
und pracht halten/ in welchem sie jren Unglauben \md 
Abgotterey dem gemeinen Mann also fiirgetragen fiir 
Augen steUen/ und ins hertz einbilden/ das es jnen her- 
nacher nimmermehr/ oder ja mit grosser miihe heraus 
genomen werden kan. Warumb thun denn wir/ so das 
reine unverfelschte Wort Gottes haben/ dasselbige nicht 
auch/ damit wir ja auf alle mittel und wege dem Herm 
Christo die Leute zufiiren machten." ''^ Leisers Entrii- 

'*Haman, 1607. 

'"ISIO. Ap. Janns^-Pastor, Geach, d. deutachen VoUces, Bd. vn, 
S. 124. 

"An den Leser, in Fr. Dedekinds Der Christliche Ritter, neue 
Ausg., 1590. 

Digitized by 


150 JOS. E. aiLLBT 

stung hatte seinen Wilderhall bei Martin Hinckart/^ der 
bemerkt, " dasz uns die Kinder der Finsternisz/ die Jesui- 
ten/ mit jhrem auch in diesem Stiick besonderem Fleisz 
unnd Eyf er allein excitiren kondten/ sonderlich den lieben 
Lutherwm in dem FaD inn gebiihrende Acht zu nehmen 
und zu retten/ alldieweil derselbe bey jhnen fast alle Jahr 
ein mal oder etliche in jhren 8(Uyris unnd Teufelszge- 
tichten allermeist muss herhalten unnd iiberbiicken." 
Natiirlich war die Opposition am heftigsten bei den pro- 
testantischen Schulmannem. Als der Rektor der Andreas- 
schule zu Hildesheim, M. Hch. Godeken, imi Erlaubnis 
bat, eine " Comoedia publica " aufzufiibren, gab er als 
Qrund, u. a. dass " man sich auff solchen Schlag den 
vermeinend Kunstreichen und Scharfsinnigen Jesuiten 
beqwemlich zuwider setzen konnte, oder jo ihn etwas nach- 
kommen, wo nicht zuvor." '^^ Das 17. Jabrhundert sab 
keine Anderung in der Haltung des protestantischen 
Schultums; es wurde stetig geeifert gegen die strotzende 
Jesuitenbiihne, die als "nimis obscena" dargestellt 
wurde.''® 'Wer halt mehr von Comedien, als die Herm 
Jesuiten? " war die Frage noch im Jahre 1675.^® 

Diese Vorliebe fiir das Drama lasst sich leicht erklaren. 
Schon Johannes Major sagte, dass die Spiele bisweilen 
mehr bewegten als die offentliche Predigt.®^ Eine ver- 
kappte Predigt also, aber mit weit grosserem Eindringungs- 
vermogen. Wo die Predigt Himderte erreiehte, zog das 

^Der Eislehische OhriatUc^e Ritter, 1613. Cf. auch F. H. F!ay- 
derus, Ludovioua Bigamua, 1626. 

"Gaedertz, Archivalische Nachrichten iiher die TheaierzusiUnde 
von Hildesheim, 1888, S. 7 ff. 

*»Um 1667. Cf. Nessler, Dramaturgie der Jesuiten Ponia/MAS, Do- 
nattLs und Masenius, Progr., Brixen, 1905, S. 21. 

^ AlamodMches Interim, S. 664. 

■*Cf. Holfltein, Die Reformation usw., S. 24. 

Digitized by 



Drama seine Tausende heraiL Wo dem Ihirchsclmitte- 

prediger immer ein gewisser Unwillen begegnete^ f and das 

Drama ein aufgewecktes, gespanntes Publikum, dem die 

Moral samt den schlagenden Darstellungen bis tief in die 

Seele drang. Man weiss, welche auffallende Ahnlich- 

keiten zwischen gewissen Passionsspielen ®^ und den 

gleichzeitigen Predigten besteht.®* Wer aber der Predigt 

nicht znhoren will, muss anderswie erreicht werden. Sagt 

doch Birck: 

Man Bicht dich in der kircben nitt, 
Verachten das ist nur dein eitt. 
Der Pfarrer schreit sich haiser gar, 
Der leer nimbstu gar wenig war; 
Du sprichBt: ich kan es nit version. 
Was soil ich in der kirchen thon? 
Dieweil du dann bist also toll. 
Das du den Handel nit fast wol 
Verfassen kanst, was doch disz sey, 
Das man nennet AbgOtterey, 
80 wend wir dir das zaigen an 
Das dusz must freylicb wol verstan, 
Mit deinen augen mustus seben, 
Ja greyffen, mercken, gantz erspeben."* 

In Hinsicht auf eben solche Zustande suchte Leonhard 
Culman seine Mitbiirger anzuregen, " Qottes wort vnd 
leere, guote sitten, der toUen welt vnd vngezogenen jugent, 
fiir [zu] tragen mit predigen, gesengen, reymen, liedem, 
spriichen, spilen der Comedien, Tragedien etc. Ob vil- 
leycht die das predigen nicht horen, noch sonst zucht ley- 
den woUen, durch Spiel oder gesenge mochten erworben 

'^ Z. B. duB Ahfelder, 

"Cf. Proning, L c. (Bd. n), 8. 565. Direkte Benutzung von Pre- 
digten in Dramen dee 16. und 17. Jabrbunderts ist aucb keine Selten- 
beit. S. z. B. die SUndenfalldramen von Lucas Mai (1561) imd O. 
Mauricius d. X. (1609). Of. Holstein, I. 0., S. 80. 

**Beel, ap. Creizenacb, Bd. m, S. 320. 


Digitized by 


452 JOS. B. enxsT 

werden,'' ^^ Obwohl mitunter behauptet wurde, dass der 
religiose Zweck dee Dramas durch Gottesdienst imd Pre- 
digt besser erreicht werde als durch Schauspiele,®^ so bUeb 
doch die " augenscheinliche Predigt und Conterfdbt . . . 
der Predigten " ®^ ein beliebtes Subsitut fiir die Kanzel 
und Johann Siemer konnte noch am Ende des 17. Jahr- 
hunderts bezeugen^ und Gottsched wiederholen : ^^ die 
kostlichsten Prediger kamen vom Theatre.'' 

Ein bedeutender Vorzug des Dramas bestand darin, 
dass auf der Eanzel nicht alle Arten des Tadels zulassig 
oder moglich waren. Auch dort gabe es eine Art De- 
corum. Hans von Bute erklart den Eeiz der Biihne toil- 
weise hieraus: 

.... das man durch disen fund 
In Bchimpff wysz zeyg die laster an 
Das man sunst nicht dOrftt understan." 

In der Handschrift des Lucerner Weltgerichtsspiels *• 
steht geschrieben: 

Die frommen allien hendts vil brucht. 
So d menschen etwan gfftlt vnnd gstrucht 
endw&ris von den rechtten wftgen, 
dae inexk doch kein mendsch torfft sfigen 

** Brief von Dr. Wenceslaue Link an den Pf arrer Petrua Pithonius, 
13. Martij 1630. Gedruckt am Schluse von Culmans Spiel Wie ein 
sunder fsuor Buoaz bekart tourde, Nttmb.^ 1539, ap. Goedeke, Every- 
man, EomuUie und Hekaeiua, Hanover, 1S66, S. 220. 

"'So von Placotomus, 1564. Of. Creizenach, Bd. m, S. 370. 

" Hans Pfister, vor Zyrls Joseph, in der Auag. von Job. Schlaysz, 
Tab., 1593. 

"Wie Noe vom wm Uherwunden durch ein jUngsten Sun Cham 
geeohmMht ubw., Bern, 1546. 

''Um 1549. Ms. 169 Ula Bl. a, an einer Stelle, die epftter durch 
ein darttbergeklebtes Papier mit neuem Text verdeckt wurde; cf. 
Reuschel, Die deuteohen Weltgeriohieepiele dee MitieUUiere, usw., 
Leipzig, 1906, S. 66 ff. 

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noch zu vnderwysen ynderstan, 
w511ten dan mit bluttiger longen zwan: 
hannd des die wysten gnommen acht, 
deshalb die laster in spills wys gmacht. . . . 

Nikodemus Frischlin wusste wohl, man konne " mores 
maloB in Comoedia sic taxare ut nemo eeset, qui in illis se 
perBtrictum esse iure possit dicere." ®® Es konnten also 
die Dramatiker " moderare suis affectibus ipsi, £t tamen 
hoc habitu, quae voluere loqui.'' ®^ Dem Dramatiker 
wurde ja " ein freier Spruch und Sinn " gewahrt.®* Auch 
ware es dem Schauspiel moglich, besonders in der "ga- 
lanten Zeit/' ein Publikum zu erreichen, das iiberhaupt 
von Pritschmeistem nichts wissen woUte, das sicb aber 
der Moral einer " politischen Cantzel," wie sie die Schali- 
biihne darstellte, nicht unzuganglich zeigen mochte.®* 
Und schlieeslich^ es gab gewisse Q^enstande^ die nun 
einmal in der Kirche nicht behandelt werden konnten. 
" Wurde das wohl einen Prediger kleiden, wenn er sagte: 
Es ist nicht fein/ dasz die Studenten ihre Biicher ver- 
setzen; Es ist abgeschmackt^ dasz das Frauenzimmer 
Schminck-Pflastergen auf ihre Bruste leget; Es ist nicht 
gesund/ dasz man 5. 6. Loth Caffee zu einer Kanne 
nimtut und dergleichen." ®^ Wenn sich auch ein Abra- 
ham a Santa Clara oder ein Schupp um solche Decorums- 
gesetze wenig gekiimmert hatte, fiir viele "vornehmen" 
Prediger der "galanten Zeit" m8gen sie uniiberkomm- 
liche Schranken gewesen sein. 

•Hild€gard%8 Magna, Ttibingen, 1583 (1597). 

^Epigramm von Joh. Major zu J. Sanders' Joluumes, 1688. 

■Schottel, Friedma-Sieg, 1648. 

' Uraprung der Rdmischen Monarchic, in einem Singespiele, 1684. 

*Picander, i. e. Henrici, TeuUohe So?iaU'8p%ele, 1726. 

Digitized by 


454 JOS. E. GHXET 


Es war die Abeicht der Reformatoren, daBS ihr Werk 
vor allem dem niederen Volke zu Gute kommen sollte. Die 
Pfl^e des Schuldramas befriedigt© den BeJiarf an an- 
schaulichem moralischen Unterricht fiir die Schuljugend. 
Fiir die Hebung der von der Wiasenschaf t abgeeclinittenCTi 
Volksschichten, wo nur die wenigsten durch das gedruckte 
Buch erreicht warden, bestrebten sich namentlich eine 
Anzahl Dramatiker, die, nicht voUig dem Bann der aristo- 
kratischen Humanisten-Idealen erliegend, mehr im Gteiste 
Luthers an die Arbeit zogen. Hinen war die Hebung des 
gemeinen Mannes ein bis jetzt in der Literaturgeschichte 
nur wenig betonter, jedochmitgrossterHingabeverfolgter 
Zweck. Zwar nicht ausschliesslich. •^^ aber doch vorwie- 
gend durch das Drama. 

Joachim Greff, obwohl er sich als gelehrter Humanist 
f iihlt, bedauert, dass " der gemeine man/ . . . fast wenig/ 
solche Comedias imd Spektakel dieser meinung lesen und 
anhoren/ als seien solche Comedien vns zu gut geschrieben 
und angericht" Er erklart aber nachdriicklich, er schreibe 
seine Stucke damit sie " jnn sonderheit aber vom ge- 
meinen man/ verstanden/ gelesen und angehort mochten 
werden." ®® So wurde es auch bei den Alten gemacht 
"Von klugen/ weisen leuten/ von den hochberhiimpten 
Poeten " aber auch " von unsem lieben vorfharen " " dem 
gemeinen volck zu nutz und zu gut/' Was das Altertum 
betrifft, kann dies Lienhart Culman bestatigen : 

Zu Fasznacht zeit jr wist ja wol 

Da pflegt man teutech spill zu halten 

** Waekemagel-Martln, Cfegoh. d. d. Lift, Basel, 1879-1894, 2te Aufl., 
Bd. n, S. 77, erwfthnt z. B. R&tselsammlungen "zum Kutzen des 
gemeinen Mannes" herausgegeben. 

•* AuliUaria-iiheTB., 1535. 

Digitized by 



Das gschach auch etwan bei den alten 
Man thets z gfallen dem gmeynen man 
Der Bunst nit gar vH mores kan."* 

Paulus Rebhun schreibt mit ahnlicher Absicht. Nur, bo 
meint er, soUen die Stiicke auch auf die Biiline gebracht 
werden. Seine Pflicht babe er voUbracht^ indem er das 
Drama aus Licht gab, jetzt aber will er auch " wie zuvor 
nachmals ermahnet haben, alle die, so solcherley nutze 
Spiel anzurichten tiiglich vnd forderlich mogen sein, sie 
wollen es nu auch an ihrem fleis vnd arbeit nicht erwinden 
lassen, vnnd dises geticht mit offentlichem Schawspil auch 
fiir den gemeinen man bringen." ®® Solche Spiele, meint 
Criiginger,®* seien fiir die einfachen Menschen dasBelbe, 
wie Puppen fiir die Kinder. Thiebold Gart schrieb seinen 
Joseph im voUen Bewusstsein seiner Absicht : 

Zu gfallen vnser Oberkeyt, 

Und dir zu fnimmen gmeyner mann. 

Er weiss, die Gelehrten werden eben deshalb fiir sein 
Drama kein Interesse zeigen, aber: 

Wir handt den nutz der spectatom 
Ftirs lob gesucht der hoch doctom.*** 

Bis ins 17. Jahrhundert sind dergleichen demokratische 
Absichten zu verzeichnen.^^^ 

Unter der Bezeichnung ''gemeiner Mann" sind natiir- 
lich nicht ausschliesslich die niederen Volksschichten, son- 

^Von der auffrur der Erham tceiher zu Rom, 164(?). 

••Vor Hans Tyrolfs tJbers. des Pammachiua, Bolte und Schmidts 

** Lazarus, 1543. 

^^Joeephy Strassburg, 1559. Hrsg. v. E. Schmidt, El§d$9Uohe 
lAteraturdenhm&ler, n, StrassI)., 1880. 

^Cf. Rebhun, Susanna, 1535; L. St5ckel, Susawna, 1559; H. Bachs, 
Werke, Vorrede zum n. Bde., 1560; G. Mauricius, Oomoedia von dem 
8chulwesen, Leipz., 1560; A. Q^ssmann, Josephus Tragicomious, 1610. 

Digitized by 



dern auch die Ungelehrten und iiberhaupt des Lateins Un- 
kundigen zu veretehen. Hire Zahl war nicht gering, denn 
Arnold Glaser meint, dass man "viel fronuner Leute 
findet/ bey dem Adel/ Kauffleuten und Biirgem/ welche 
der Lateinischen Sprache unerf ahren sind." ^®* Ihnen zu 
Gut wurden vielfach die lateinischen Schulkomodien, 
welche ihre Sohne vielleicht auf die Biiline bringen half en, 
iibersetzt. Hierin lag ein wichtiger Beriihrungspunkt des 
gelehrten mit dem volkstiimlichen Element im Drama. 
Greff bearbeitet den Lazarus des Sapidus Deutsch fiir die 
" simpeln, einf altigen Leute " und Hans Sachsens reizen- 
des Spiel von Adams Kindem (1553) ist: 

Ein oomedi und lieblich gedicht, 
Das ursprtinglich hat zugericht 
Im Latein Philippus Melanchthon, 
Und nun ku gut dem gemeinen man 
Auch in teuteche sprach ist gewendt. 

So wird dann Heinrich Mollers Ndbal ^^* iibersetzt, " das 
auch die gemeine biirgerschafft, im latein wol, vbel oder 
nicht erfaren, darzu auch frawens personen . . • sich 
sampt jrem thim gleich als in einem spiegel besehen 
mochten." Und so wurde eine ganze Reihe von Dramen 
mit jener ausgesprochenen Absicht aus dem Lateinischen 
" einfaltig in deutsche Reime verfasset." *®* Fanden sich 
in einem deutschen Stiicke schwierige Ausdriicie, die von 

*• tubers, von Nik. Priechlins Phasma, 1698. 

^^ 1564, ap. Bolte, Das Danziger Theater im. 16. u. 17. Jh,, Hamb., 
Leipz., 1895, 8. 5. 

^ Of. H. Zi^lera Vom opffer der HeiUgen drey KMhUg, Ingolstadt, 
1555, tlb. V. Wolfg. Herman, Saltzburg, 1557; Mart. Hayneodus ver- 
deutschte nicht nur seinen Almansar (deutsch 1582) sondem auch 
Beinen Hans Pfriem, 1582. (Lat. Momoeoapue eive Haneoframea, 
1581.) Nik. Frischlins Phtisina wurde von Arnold Glaser Iibersetzt, 
Greifswald, 1593. S. auch A. Gassmanns Joaephus Tragioomicue, 

Digitized by 



Ungebildeten achwerlich verstanden wiirden, so wurden 
diese bisweilen erlautert. So erklart Martin Kinckart ^^^ 
die symbolischen Lateinischen Namen : 

dasz . . . auch der gmeine maun 
Ton handel moege was yeraian. 

AhnKche Riicksicht, noch weiter getrieben, zeigte spater 
Job. Rist, der dem ungebildeten Publikum zu Gut, wie 
er selber sagt, Zwischenspiele in seinen Perseus hinein- 
schob, obwohl er wusste, dass er damit den " legibus Tra- 
goediarum '' zuwider handelte. Er babe aber " dem ge- 
meinen Manne (als der mit solcben und dergleichen pes- 
sirlichen Auffziigen am aUermeisten sich belustiget) vor- 
nemlich . . . gratificiren und dienen woUen/' ^^^ 

Auch die Schulbehorden zeigten dem grossen Publikum 
gegeniiber eine zuvorkommende Haltung, jedocb teilweise 
au« eigenniitzigen Griinden. Harsdorfer gab wohl einer 
selbst zu seiner Zeit noch gangbaren Meinung Ausdruc^, 
wo er mit Bezug auf das Schuldrama schrieb : " Es ist ver- 
antwortlich/ dasz man sich des Nechsten Neigung nach 
bequemen/ und denen/ welche theils nicht lesen woUen/ 
theils nicht lesen konnen/ die Liebe zur Tugend/ durch 
ein lebendiges Gemahlde aufstellet/ vor- und einbildet 
. . . Der Nutz ist zu betrachten sowol/ bey den Zusehem 
und Zuhorem/ als bey den spielenden Knaben." ^^^ 


Die Standesverhaltnisse des Mittelalters spiegeln sich 
nur unbetrachtlich in der dramatischen Poesie. Im 16. 
Jahrhundert werden gelegentlich die einzelnen Stande von 

^Der Eislehische OhrUiliohe Riiier, 1613. 

^Hamb., 1634. 

^ Trickier, 1660, Bd. n, S. 72 f. 

Digitized by VjOOQ IC 


Narren gegeisselt ; ^^® dann wieder verfolgt ein gauzes 

Drama diesen Zweck. Gengenbachs Nollhart (1517) 


von etlichen etenden dyser waelt, 
der sich doch keiner me recht helt 
Geizstlich waeltlich, ritter, knecht, 
Vnd dar zuo auch als froettsch geschlecht. 

Hiermit verwandt, jedoch ohne die Breite der Anlage und 
ohne die beissende Wucht der Satire, vielmehr oft nach 
kleinbiirgerlichem Ideal zugeschnitten, fast reaktionnar, 
und dennoch konstruktiv, erscheint die Auffaseung Lu- 
thers und seiner Geistesverwandten. 

Besonders aus der Komodie soil gelemt werden, meint 
Greff, wie ein jeder sich nach seinem Stand verhalten soil : 
"... Bistu ein knecht/ odder hast einen andem standt 
an dir/ der mit dienst verbunden ist/ so solstu vleissig 
auffmercken/ wie dieser oder jener fromer knecht/ inn 
dieser oder einer andern Comedien/ seinem herm vleissig 
dienet/ wie er seinem herm seinen schaden mit aUem vleis 
verhiitet. Also weiter mit alien etenden und perso- 
nen." ^^^ Man sol " lemen und erkennen/ aller stende 
in der gantzen welt ampt und eigenschafft" und das 
" leben darnach richten und anstellen." Aus dergleichen 
Ausserungen mehr als den herkommlichen didaktischen 
Zweck herauslesen woUen, konnte hyperkritisch erscheinen. 
Man hore jedoch Melanchthon und Luther. Der "pre- 
ceptor Gtermaniae " redet von der Tragoedie: " Saepe . . . 
Graecorum consilium valde admirer, qui initio Tragoe- 
dias populo proposuerunt, nequaquam vt vulgo existimatur, 
tantum oblectationis causa, sed multo magis, vt rudos ac 
feres aniraos, consideratione atrocium exemplorum & ca- 

^^Z. B. in G. RoUenhagens Beari)eitung von Lonemanne Laatarua, 
1590, in. 
*•• Aululwria-HheTB,, 1536. 

Digitized by 



suiun flecterent ad moderationem & frenandas cupidita- 
tes." ^^^ Weniger als Abwehr oder repressives Mittel, 
mehr als positives, bildendes Element fasste Luther den 
gewiinschten Zweck des Dramas auf. " Comedien zu spie- 
len soil man umb der Knaben in der Schule willen nicht 
wehren " entgegnete er anf eine Frage des Job. Cellarius, 
u. a. weil " dort fiirgestelt werden solche Personen, da- 
durch die Leute unterrichtet, und ein Iglicher seines 
Ampts und Standes erinnert und vermahnet werde, was 
einem Ejiecht, Herm, jungen Gesellen und Alten gebiihre, 
wohl anstehe und was er thun soil, ja, es wird darinnen 
fiirgehalten und fiir die Augen gestellt aller Dignitaten 
Grad, Aempter und Gebiihre, wie sich ein Iglicher in sei- 
nem Stande halten soil im ausserlichen Wandel." Nun 
konnte man hieraus bloss schliessen, das Drama sei in 
Luthers Ansicht eine Art Anschauungsunterricht der 
Etiquette, etwas wie ein verherrlichtes "Biichlein vom 
Zutrinken,'* ein Grobianus ohne die Satire. Es liegt aber 
doch etwas Tief eres darin, das nicht iibersehen werden darf . 
Horchen wir Luther weiter zu : ^' Zudem werden darinnen 
beschrieben imd angezeigt die listigen Anschlage und 
Betrug der bosen Balge ; desgleichen, was der Aeltern und 
jungen Knaben Ampt sei, wie sie ihre Kinder und junge 
Leute zum Ehestande ziehen und halten, wenn es Zeit mit 
ihnen ist, und, wie die Kinder den Aeltern gehorsam sein, 
imd freien soUen. . ." Ob hierin ein sozial-wichtiger 
Punkt beriihrt wird? Zweifellos, wenn man sich erin- 
nert, das nach Luthers Ansicht " Polizeien und Weltliche 
Regiment . . . nicht bestehen [konnen] ohn den Ehe- 
Btand. Eheloser Stand, der Colibat und Hurerei sind der 
Regiment und Welt Pestilenz und Gift." ^^^ Aber, so wie 

^ 1545. Cf. auch schon G. Simlers Auag. von Reudilins Sergiua, 
^Tischreden, Werke, Eriangen, Bd. m, S. 336 f. 

Digitized by 


460 JO£L B. aiLLET 

der letzte Abschnitt iiber die Ehe, so sind auch die andem 
Stellen Luthers von sozialer Bedeutimg durchdrungeiu 

Dass Luthers Ansichten auch von seinen Zeitgenossen 
80 verstanden wurden, zeigt das Beispiel Greffs, eines 
nahen Gteistesverwandten. Die oben angef iihrte Stelle aus 
Greff ist konkreter als diejenige Luthers und lasst keinen 
Zweifel iibrig, dass im Drama nicht nur der " ausserliche 
Wandel," sondem auch die geistige Haltung der ver- 
schiedenen Stande ihren respektiven Verhaltnissen g^en- 
iiber bestinunt werden sollte. Greff denkt in grossen sozi- 
alen Abschnitten. In seinem Zacheus (1546) betont er, 
dass unter dem Namen " Zollner '' im Personenverzeichnis 
auch begriffen seien " Gleittleutte/ Rendtmeister/ Schos- 
ser/ Voigte/ alle Amtuerweser/ Verleger/ Factor/ Schaff- 
ner/ Vorsteher/ Kauffleutte/ alle hantirer und handler/ 
ia alle handtwerckger." So konnte das Drama in sozialer 
Hinsicht einen erstarrenden Einfluss ausuben, wo es Erge- 
bung predigte in die bestehenden Verhaltnisse/ Hier 
tritt also, wenn auch nicht sehr deutlich ausgesprochen, 
der Gedanke des Dramas als beruhigender, besanftigender 
Faktor im Staate hervor, verschiedentlich nach den Per- 
sonlichkeiten gefarbt, peinlich konkret bei Greff, huma- 
nistisch bei Melanchthon, real-politisch bei Luther. 

Zur besseren Begriindung dieser Ansichten seien einige 
weitere Beispiele hervorgehoben. In den Dramen von 
den ungleichen Kindem Evas wird die TJngleichheit der 
Stande inmier als eine gottliche Einrichtung dargestellt. 
Bei alledem wurde die reizende L^ende natiirlich von 
verschiedenen Dramatikern verschieden behandelt, von 
Sachs z. B. mit all der Arglosigkeit und tJberzeugung 
seiner N'atur, von Weise aber schon mit tieferem Bewusst- 
sein und mit sozialen Anklangen. Und Knaust verflocht 
die Geschichte ja in seine Tragedta von Verordnung der 

Digitized by 



Stdnde oder Regvnyent.^^^ Joh. Aal wendet sich an alle 
Stande: Priester, Fiirsten und Herren, Vater tind Mutter, 
Frauen und Jungf rauen, alle konnen aus seinem Joharmes- 
Drama (1549) ihren Nutzen ziehen: 

In summa, es ist kein stand noch stat 
Der Bit mag nemmen wysen rat 
Und gnte leer U88 disem epil. 

Joh. Schuward teilt seinen Hausteuffel^^^ aktenmassig 
"nach den fiimembsten stenden der menschen" ein.*^* 
Joh. Sanders untemahm es " aller Stende Verriickung, 
Verkerungen und TJnordnungen, so in dieser letzten Zeit 
der Satan gewaltiglich anrichtet ab[zu]mahlen und fiir 
augen [zu] stellen." Es werden dort "die ruehlosen 
Weltkinder fur Siinden und Untugend und Miszbrauch 
ihres Standes und Amtes gewamet und zu wahrer Busz, 
christlichen Tugenden und rechtmasziger Fiihrung ihres 
Berufes und Amtes vennahnet und gereizet." Auch sind 
seine Personen Vertreter grosserer Qruppen in der Gtesell- 
schaft. "Herr Fastus ist das Bild eines unbestandigen 
Wendheikens [Manteldrehers], Herodes reprasentiert 
einen heuchlischen Tyrannen, Herodias ein unziichtig 
gottlos Weib, Johann von Gaza und Jost von Emahus 
einen gottseligen frommen Adel, Gk>lret von Vitremund 
und Simon von Thatwalde einen gottlosen epikuiischen 
Adel, Centurio einen fiirstlichen 'Hof rat und so fortan." *^** 
In seiner Komodie gegen das Wiirfel- und Kartenspiel 

^ 1639. ttber Behandlungen dieser von Melanchthon an den 
Grafen von Wied mitgeteilten Legende 8. Michel, Kna/Mi, Berlin, 
1903, 8. 26 ff. und Bolte, Stuttg. Lit Ver., Bd. omo, 8. 403 ff. 

"•Eialeben, 1666, ap. Bolte, Wickram-Ausg., Bd. vi, 6. Izziz. 

^So handelt Akt i. von Lehrem und Zuhdrem, n. von Obrigheit 
und Uniertanen, in. von Mann und Weib, iv. von Eliem und Kindem, 
V. von Strafe und Belohming, ( /) 

«Magd., 1688. 

Digitized by 


462 JOB. £. aiLLBT 

woUte Thomas Birck auch " der Welt Lauff in aUen dreyen 
Standen" darstellen.^^® Joh. Yetzeler gab Wickrams 
Tobias neu heraus, " darin zn lehmen haben alte und junge 
Leuth, wie sich ein jeder in seinem Beruf und Stand ver- 
halten" soil. Und den 123 Actores sind " mit jren Standen 
auch jren eygenen Namen " ^ vorgedruckt.^^^ Samuel 
Israel zeigt uns, wie durch das Drama " alle Stend in der 
Wfelt/ sampt jrem Vorhaben . . . uffgefiihrt und gewie- 
sen werden." ^^® Noch im Jahre 1610 erschien ein Kurtz- 
weiligs Fassnacht Spiel, vom favlen, eigensinnigen Dienst- 
gesinde^^^ ein Beweis dafiir, dass die Vorechrift, der 
Knecht soUe vom Drama lernen, wie er sich gegen den 
Meister zu betragen habe, noch immer buchstablich be- 
herzigt wurde. Wolfhart Spangenberg schrieb ein Drama 
vom Glilckstoechsel, "ein kurzweilig Spiel, von dryen 
jhres Standes Uberdriissigen Personen, eim Bawren, 
Landsknecht vnd Pfaffen: Vnd wie es jedem nach seim 
Anschlag ergangen." ^^^ Die typische Vertretung der ver- 
schiedenen Stande, wie etwa im Luzerner Antichristspiel 
von 1549 ^^^ heranzuziehen, ware iiber unsere Aufgabe 
hinausgreifen. Aber es muss auch echon aus den oben 
angefiihrten Stellen vollkommen deutlich sein, dass die 
Biihne auf das Standesbewusstsein tief einzuwirken im 
Stande war, und zwar in doppelter Fassung: gewisser- 
massen vertiefend, erweiternd, namentlich in den essentiell- 
mittelalterlichen Massendramen ; aber verengend, erstar- 
rend in den biirgerlich-angehauchten Beruf s- und Standes- 
dramen. Moistens war jedoch die Tendenz konservativ 

"•1590. Ob hier auch Georg Mauricius' Kom5die Von allerlei 
Si&nden zu nennen wftre, weiss ich nicbt. 
"M609. Zuerst 1606. 
^Susanna, Bagel, 1607, Widmung, 1606. 
"»Von Job. Steurlein, Scbleusing^i. 
^Ntirnb., 1613. 
"^In der grossen (^erichtflscene. 

Digitized by 



und wurde die InstandhaltuBg der bestehenden Verhalt- 
nisse, die Erhaltung des Standesbewusstseins erstrebt. 

Bemerkenswert ist die Tatsache, dass oft die Komodie 
als besonders f iir solche zugleich sozial-wichtige und docb 
fast hausliche Zwecke geeignet dargestellt wurde. Wie 
letzteres aus der Definition der Komodie hervorgeht, und 
wie z. B. Luthers Tendenzen eigentlich nur die tiefere 
Auffassung althergebrachter Ansichten iiber den Stoff der 
Komodie bilden, wiirde sich herausstellen bei einer Unter- 
suchung des Begriffs Komodie, fiir die hier jedoch nicht 
die Stelle ist. 


Schon im Mittelalter gab es politische Dramen. Die 
politische Bedeutung des Tegemseeer Antickristspiels Vom 
romischen Reiche deutscher Nation braucht nicht betont zu 
werden. Spater wird haufig gegen die Tiirkengefabr ge- 
eifert, sogar in Fastnachtsspielen.^^^ Jakob Lochner 
schrieb zwei Tiirkenstiicke (1496, 1502), letzteres das 
Spedacvium . . . m qtu) Christianissimi reges aduersv/m 
truculentissimos Turchos consilium ineunt* Ausserdem 
gibt 68 von ihm ein Spiel iiber die politische Lage nach 
der Schlacht bei Guinegate (1513). Wimpheling schrieb 
einen Dialog De hello Thurcico (1498). Bircks Judith 
(um 1540) soil ein Beispiel sein " rei publicae recte insti- 
tutae, Unde discitur, quomodo arma contra Turcam sint 
capienda.'' Zieglers Swmson (1547) wurde dargestellt 
" ad exemplum quomodo speranda sit divina ultio et vic- 
toria contra Turcas,'' und Hier. Linck schrieb ein Drama 
de praeparatione ad Bellum Twcicum}^^ All diesen 

^Der TUrken Vastnaohtapiel, Keller, Bd. i, 8. 288 flf.; Rosenpiat, 
Keller, Nr. 39. 

^ 1557. HS. in Wien. Cf. Gerstenberg, Zur Oeaohichte des TUrken- 
Bohau^piele, i, Meppen, 1902. t)ber ein Tllrkenstlick Qeorg Btfmiches 
8. Goedeke, Qrundriss, Bd. n, S. 898. 

Digitized by 


464 JOS. s. anxBT 

Drarnen lag hauptsach|ich Glaubenseifer zu Grunde, aber 
ihre Erscheinung war zugleich nicht ohne Belang fiir die 
intemationale Politik. 

In der Schweiz kam rege Teilnahme der Burger an der 
mit den Verhaltnissen Europas oft eng verwebten Politik 
der EidgenoBsenschaft auf der volksbeliebten Biiline oft 
eindrucksvoll zur Oeltung, Die verschiedenen Tellen- 
spiele, an denen sich die Schweizer seit Ruffs Etter Heim 
(1514) ergotzt haben, brauchen wir nicht noch einmal 
aufzuzahlen.^^* Es wird in der Schweiz nicht nur geei- 
fert fiir die Lauterung der Sitten, die Instandhaltung der 
alten Eomertugend (Bullingers Lucretia), aondem auch 
gegen die Annahme fremdlandischer Pensionen, den Ein- 
tritt schweizerischer Burschen in fremde Heere.*^^ 

Auch die inneren Verhaltnisse werden beriihrt. Nicht 
selten beschaftigt sich das Drama mit den grossen natio- 
nalen Zeitereignissen oder mit den politischen Verhalt- 
nissen grosser Gruppierungen innerhalb des Deutschen 
Eeiches. Den Bauernkrieg, den Herman Schottenius 
schon 1526 darzustellen versucht hatte {Ludus martius) 
wurde ein Jahrhundert spater von Martin Einckart wieder 
auf die Buhne gebracht "nicht allein Comoedienweise, 
sondem auch als ein richtiges und lustiges Compendium 
Historicum ordentlich verf asset vnd zugerichtet : Vnd der 
jetzigen sicheren Welt, zum nothwendigen Lehr- un War- 
nungsspiegel Beym instehenden seculo vor Augen gestel- 
let." ^** Auffallend ist dabei, dass auch in diesen Dramen 
fast ausnahmslos eine konservative, wenn nicht reaktionaro 
Gtesinnung zu Tage tritt. Wenn es auch unverneinbar 

^Cf. R. J. Hodel, Vaterl&ndiechea Volkstheater und Featapiele in 
der Schweits, Diss., Bern, 1907. 

^ Ober die AuffQhrung einer Judith in Sfis, 1554, and ihre Wirkung 
B. Creizenach, Bd. m, 8. 344, Anm 1. 

*^Monetariu9 $€ditio9U9, 1626. 

Digitized by 



ist, dass in Deutschland die Biiline nicht etwa wie in 
Frankreich ^^"^ als Werkzeug zur Beherrschung der Massen 
verwendet wurde/^® so lasst sich doch eine Tendenz in 
diesem Sinne beobachten. Im Verband mit der iinver- 
kennbar konservativen Riehtung, die sich in der Betonung 
der Standesunterschiede aussert, wird die Lage noch deut- 
licher. Es sei hierbei nochmals anf Melancbthons Ausse- 
rung hingewiesen und es sei nochmals betont, wie ana ihr 
viel weniger der Sittenlehrer spricht, ak der Staatsmann. 
Gengenbachs Nollhart ^^® fiihrt die politischen Machte 
der Zeit und darunter auch die Juden auf . Ein Hildes- 
heimer Fastnachtsspiel ^*^ " verspottet die Adeligen dee 
Bistums, die sich im vorhergehenden Jahre gegen gewisse 
Finanzmassr^ehi aufgelehnt hatten." Heinrich £naust 
benutzte die Geschichte von Kain und Abel als Grundlage 
seiner Tragoedi von Verordnung der Stdnde oder Begi- 
menty^^^ wo Kain das Bild geben soil "der wiisten und 
greulichen Leute die im Papsttum und neulich bei den 
Bauem und Wiedertaufern gesehen worden." Wolfgang 
Schmeltzls Samuel und SavX soil zeigen, " dass alle hohe 
gewaltige Monarchien von Gott eingesetzt und geordnet, 
die grossen machtigen Potentaten und Herren zu straf en, 
Recht wider Gewalt aufzurichten, auch wider dieselbigen 
sich niemand setzen, verachten noch emporen solle/' ^*^ 
Ofters empfiehlt bei Hans Sachs der Herold Gehorsam 
gegen die Behorden. Im Mudus Scaevola bindet er 

^ Cf . Picot, Les moralitis politiqueB. Bull, de la boc. du prot. fr., 

^Man weiss wie Ludwig XII Gringores Jeu du Prinoa dea 8ot» 
benutzte um den Volksgeist gegen den Pabst Julius 11 aufzuregen. 
Cf. Petit de Juleville, Le tlUAtre en France, Paris, 1901, S. 64 f. 

"•1546 aufgefflhrt. 

"• Der Soheveoloih, 1620 aufgef ., ap. Creizenach, I. c, Bd. m, S. 243. 

"» Wittenberg, 1539. 

««Wien, 1661; cf. Holstein, I a, SS. 81, 91. 

Digitized by 


466 JOS. B. aiLLBT 

seinen Mitbiirgem aufs Herz, ihre Steuer wiUig zu be- 
zahlen. Der Niimberger Bat konnte denn auch nicht 
umhin, die Auffiihnmg des Dramas zu gestatten " well vyl 
gute argument vnd ursachen wider die beflchwerungen der- 
gleichen aufflagen darjnn auf die pan gebracht werden^ 
die alien Oberkeiten zu guten gedeutet werden mii- 
gen.'' ^^* Dramen, in denen die Obrigkeit angegriffen 
wurde, sind nur selten zur AufFiihrung oder sogar ans 
Licht gekommen, was bei der Wachsamkeit der Behorden 
mit Betracht auf Stiicke, die sich etwa auf bestehende 
Zustande beziehen konnten/^* leicht zu erklaren iet 
Revolutionnare Dramen sind also kaum zu erwarten. 
Ausnahmsweise erscheint eine Tragoedia Von emem Unge- 
rechten Bichter/ Wie derselbe . . . ewig verdampt war- 
den}^^ aber meistens wird bloes in verdeckter Weise, 
etwa in einem JS^Aer-drama auf die Pflicht hingewiesen, 
" dass niemand sin gwalt oder wolstand missbruche/ sun- 
der demiitig sye." ^®* Oder in ein Susa/rmar^-piA eine 
Scene eingeschoben " ad depingendum indicium iniqui- 
tatem/' jedoch "extra argumentum/' wie Eebhun be- 
schwichtigend hinzufiigt^*'' 


Beim tJberblick obiger Zeilen lasst sich folgendes be- 
merken: Die zahlreichen Belege zeigen eine auffallende 
innere Abnlichkeit, in einzelnen Fallen sogar wortliche 
tJbereinstimmung. Diesem Sachverhalt liegt einerseits 
eine noch fast mittelalterliche Einheitlichkeit des Den- 

"• 1653, ap. Creizenach, Bd. in, S. 435. 

"•Cf. Hampe, ap. Creizenach, Bd. in, S. 439. 

"•Madgeburg o. J. 

"• JoBiae Murer, Hester, 1567. 

*" Susanna, n, i. Deutsch 1636 aufgeftlhrt. 

Digitized by 



kens, anderseits aber auch wohl die erstarrende Wirkung 
der Tradition zu Grunde. In zwei Worten lasst sich die 
ganze Lage zusammenf assen : Moral und Didaktik. Diese 
bezieht sich auf Methode und Absicht; jene, entweder 
abstrakt oder konkret angehaucht, verteilt ihre Mahnungen 
zwischen Individuum, Familie und Staat. 

Die meisten unserer Bel^e entstammen dem 16. und 
dem Anfang des 17. Jahrhunderts und nur verhaltnis- 
massig wenige gehoren dem ausgehenden 17. oder dem 18. 
Jahrhundert an. Tatsachlich ist die Herrschaft von 
Moral und Didaktik iiberhaupt auf das 16. Jahrhundert 
beschrankt. Im folgenden Jahrhundert, vielleicht schon 
unter Einfluss der Englischen Komodianten und spater 
durch die Einwirkung Italiens und Frankreiehs b^nnt 
namlich der Zerstorungsprozess der Didaktik, indem die 
Wirkungsmittel des Dramas eine voUige TTmwandlung 
untergehen. Dem Nutzen wird die Belustigung zur Seite 
gestellt, zuerst als blosse Zugabe, dann aber, etwa seit Opitz, 
als gleichberechtigt, bis endlich, am Anfang des 18. Jahr- 
hunderts, die Belustigung an die Herrscherstelle tritt. 
Damit war auch der Didaktik ihr Ende bereitet, denn 
Didaktik als Methode und Belustigung als Ziel sind unver- 
einbar. TJnsere Belege werden deshalb seit Opitz immer 
sparlicher. Trotzdem ware ihre Bedeutung noch leicht 
zu uberschatzen, wenn hier nicht ausdriicklich darauf 
hingewiesen wiirde, dass in den spateren Ausserungen der 
Wachzligler oder der vereinzelte Reaktionnar zur Rede 

Jos. E. GlLLET. 

Digitized by 



Kolbing in hie work on the Ipomedon of Hue de Kote- 
lande finds in this charming romance of the latter half of 
the twelfth century the " tendenz, characterzeichnung und 
handlung," * that class it unmistakably with the romances 
of the Bound Table, and recognizes most particularly 
upon it the influence of the Charetie and the Yvain of 
Chretien de Troyee.^ 

On account of the close relations between France and 
England at this time, one is easily led to believe that an 
English poet, writing in French, must have known Chre- 
tien, who was then charming the courts of France, and, 
knowing him, must have followed in his tracks. Resem- 
blances may indeed be pointed out between the works of 
Chretien and Ipomedon, just as resemblances have been 
noted * between the former and the romances of antiquity. 
All these works followed each other so closely in the 
period between 1150 and 1190 that they are to a degree 
the' product of the same civilization, and resemblances 
are inevitable. But that Hue de Rotelande, before he 
wrote his Ipomedon, ever read the Charetie or Yvain 
of Chretien de Troyes, seems to me inconceivable. 

Born perhaps in Rhuddlan in the north of Wales, hav- 
ing at any rate a house near Hereford* and acquainted 

^ Ipomedon, in drei engliachen hearheitungen, Eugen EOlbing, 
Breslau, 1SS9, p. xxviii (A). 

*Hue de Rotelande's Ipom4don, ein franedtiaoher ahenteuerroman, 
herauBgegeben von E. KOlbing und E. Kosohwitz, p. vi (B). 

*€kuston Paris, Journal des SavanU, July, 1902; Edmond Faral, 
Ovide et quelques souroeM du Roman d^EnSat, Romania, 1911, pp. 
233 f. 

«/p., 11. 6346, 8940, 10569. 


Digitized by 



with the . country rotmd about that border town, Hue 
would seem to have needed but an example to inspire in 
him a desire to embody in his own work some of the 
I^ends of his home land, so successfully exploited by 
Chretien de Troyes. In Ipomedon, however, there are 
none of the paraphernalia peculiar to the romances of 
the Itound Table^ no terrestrial paradises, no land from 
which none who enters ever returns, no fairy mistresses, 
no love philters, no love madness, no sword bridges or 
phantom beasts, no perilous beds wi1& flaming swords 
descending, no storm-producing fountains, none of the 
other-world phenomena,*^ of which Tvain and the Charette, 
of all the works of Chretien, are particularly full. 

That the Ipomedon is of about the same length as 
Thebes, and that twenty of the names of the personages 
are drawn from it, proves necessarily nothing. But it 
is difficult for us to see in the court of Meleager in Ipo- 
medon " ein seitenstiick zu der des konigs Artus in Oarlion 
oder Quarradigant." • There is no reference in Ipome- 
don to Arthur or any of his famous knights. Arthur, as 
he is depicted by Chretien, is very much a figure-head, 
acting occasionally as umpire, but doing no fighting him- 
self. Meleager, on the contrary, not only takes part in 

'If, as Ward among others thinks, {Cat, of Rom, y. i, pp. 736 ff.) 
Hue were acquainted with a LonoeHot by his friend Walter Map 
(cf. /p., 11. 7173 ff.), it would seem strange that none of this other- 
world material crept into his Ipomedon, Some of it seems insep- 
arable from a Lancdot story. The nearest approach to it in 
Ipom6don is the virtue attributed to the sapphire on the cover of 
the cup Ipomedon gave to Gapaneus, and the stone in the ring 
given to Ipom^on l^ his mother. Of the former it is said that It 
cured people of felons (/p., L 2933; cf. Mussafia, Bulla oriiioa del 
ietto del Ipomddon, p. 46), and of the latter that it staunched the 
blood from a wound (/p., IL 9781 ff.). It was common thruout the 
middle ages to attribute peculiar virtues to precious stones. 

'KSlbing (A), pp. xxviHff. 

Digitized by 


470 LUOY M. GAY 

the tourney in person, but is worsted by the hero.'' Be- 
sides; it is to the court of the duchess of Calabria, and 
not to Meleager's that Ipomedon goes to learn ajfeUe- 
ment,^ and he is knighted ^ by his father in his own home 
in Apulia. 

Nor does Capeneus remind us of Chretien's Gauvain, 
that incomparable hero with whom the battle is at best in- 
decisive.^® Capaneus suflFers defeat on each of the three 
days of tourney. On the third day he would have been 
killed by Ipom6don if the king had not rescued him. 
Ipomldon, after he had unhorsed him runs him down: 

Gil remeint a pie en la place. 

Ipom6don ben le requert, 

Od le pi2 del destrer le fert, 

Ke lea paumes ferri al terre (11. 6258 ff.). 

The king, seeing this, comes up.^* 

D'ire esteit pale e teint e pers; 
Ipom^on fert en travers, etc. (11. 6267 f.). 

Ipomedon turns from Capaneus to strike the king, and 
the king is so frightened that, 

De Tautre part la redne vire, 

Tant cum post tendre le cheval, 

Unk[e] puis ne lui donna estal (11. 6280 ff.). 

And our poet facetiously adds: 

Je ne di pas li reis fuist 

Mes d'aler s'en grant semblant fist (11. 6283 ff.). 

»/p., 11. 6096 ff. 

•/p., 11. 211-220; 11. 245-284. 

•/p., 11. 1737 ff. 

"•Gf. Ereo, 11. 2289 ff.; (Jlig^, U. 4951 ff.; YwMm, IL 6237 ff.; Char. 
1. 5973; Pero. 1. 5548; Kdlbing, A, p. zxiz. 

"^Cf. OHg^B, H. 4860 ff.; "N'i flerent pas ne dui ne trcd; Qu'adoM 
n'estolt us ne cofltume." 

Digitized by 



The seneBchal CaeminuB is indeed like Key in being 
enjvrivs and ctistimiers de mesdire}^ 

But in the romantic literature of the day antedating 
Chretien, the seneschal bore this character.^' Besides, 
Caeminus is not the official raiUer of Chretien and is not 
mentioned as leading the gibes at Ipomedon when he 
plays the coward. Mocking at Ipomedon was a family 
affair in which even the king takes part^* 

The seneschal in the Ipomedon plays a less promi- 
nent role than the chamberlain/^ Thoas, for whom there 
is no counterpart in Chretien, the word chamberlenc ^* it- 
self being seldom used by him. This word with the office 
for Which it stands seems to have flourished particularly 
on Englifiih soil. 

It is Thoas ^^ that Hue says could talk as well as a cer- 
tain man of his acquaintance at Hereford boasting of his 
valiant deeds at the siege of Rouen.^® 

Ipomedon's mestre and constant companion, Tholomeus, 
and the messenger, Egeon, the curleUj}^ a word unfamiliar 

"/p., U. 602iand 5027. 

"Cf. Annette B. HopldnB, The influenoe of Waoe on the Arthurian 
Romancee of Orestien de Troies, pp. 93 ff., and La folie de Trietan 
d*0»ford, S. des A. T., v. LVi, U. 715 ff. 

»*/p., 11. 3121 flf; 1. 4465. 

''6ene8chal8 and chamberlainB appear in Thihee: U. 782, 2918, 
3256, etc. 

^In Perc, 1. 4500, there is a passing reference to a chamberlain. 

"The name Thoas is the only one common to Ghr^ien's works 
and to Ipom4don. In the Oharette, Thoas is pointed out in the 
tourney as the knight carrying a shield made in London (1. 5842). 
As Chretien usee the word but this once, it is probable that Hue 
recalled it from Troie, where a Thoas plays a prominent rdle (1. 358, 

"/p., 1. 5349. IponUdon was written therefore after 1174, date 
of the siege. Hue's protector of whom he speaks as living at the 
close of his later romance, Pratieikuia, died in 1191. 

"•/p., U. 2272, 2309, etc., cf. Eniae, 1. 3899. 

Digitized by 



to CIir6tien^ play roles conspicuously strange to Arthurian 

The whole setting of the story owes nothing to Chretien. 
The atmosphere of the poem according to his standard is 
uncourtly, not to say plebeian. The launde ^^ with its 
woods and river, the cite ^* where the heroine is ostUee, the 
hunting scenes ^^ no less enthusiastically drawn than the 
tourney under the dungeon,^* moors,** herdmen** and 
husting,** the lover walking in the Spring forest and sing- 
ing *^ for the mere joy of living, above all the humor pre- 
vading the whole is distinctively English in spite of the 
French dress and foreign setting. 

In particular, Kolbing would have Hue's making 
Ipomedon dru la reine due to ^^ den inneren Einfluss 
von Crestien's Chevalier de la Charette/* *® If the 
story were indeed as it is represented by M. Bardoux *• 
in his work on Walter Map, this might possibly be claim- 
ed. M. Bardoux, attempting evidently to follow Ward,*^ 
after translating into Latin Ward's citation from Ipome- 
don in which Hue says that Walter Map ** knew the art 

"LL 674 flf. "L. 322. 

^ Speaking of Henry II, Salzmann {EngUah Nation under Henry 
II, p. 216) saya in his recent yoliune (1914) : '*When he went out 
of England, whether for peaceful cause or war, his hawks and 
hounds and huntsmen followed hitn." 

"L. 2618. »L. 8942. "L. 2721. 

>«L. 2684. "L. 6336. "B, p. 6; cf. A, p. 29. 

•J. Bardoux, De Walterio Mappio, Paris, 1900, p. 167. 

"Ward, Co*, of Rom., i, p. 734. 

*^Sommer's arguments that Hue may not refer to the Walter 
Map, archdeacon of Oxford, seem quite unconvincing (cf. Vulffote 
Version of Arthurian Romances, y. i, p. 11 n.). It is natural to 
suppose that a man who said of himself: marohio swn Walensibus 
{De Nugis Curialium, Dist. n, ch. 23) and who was a public char- 
acter before our poem was written (/&., ed. Wright, p. 6), should 
have been known to Hue. This has nothing to do with the question 
of Map's authorship of a Lancelot, AU that Hue says here, is in 

Digitized by 



of lying as well as he, continues : " Haec porro singularem 
inter Ipomedonta et Lancellotum similitudinem declarant. 
Etenim Ipomedon, Ducissae Calabrienis amore captus, 
ab iUius eponso impetrant ut Dominae pocula ministret, 
cui brevi est in deliciis. Indictis, quorum Meleager, 
Ducissae conjux, particeps fieret, ludicris certaminibus, 
Ipomedon tanta virtute depugnat ut tribus diebus e 
praelio victor reoedat, prima die alba arma gestans, albo 
equo insidens; secunda, fulvis armis instructus, fulvo 
vectus equo; tertia, nigra arma ferens, nigro usus equo. 
Tum Ducissae, ut illi se detegat triplicem armaturam et 
tres equos mittit." It would scarcely seem that M. Bar- 
doux had read Ipomedon, for the duchess of Calabria, 
with whom the hero is in love, has no husband until at 
the close of the story she marries Ipomedon. The whole 
poem is written to show the vicissitudes of the court- 
ship in the good English fashion of the novel, and when 
they are finally married, the poet distinctly states that 
she was a virgin: 

Je quit k'ele out sun vu tenu, 
Kar deak'aduno pucele fu; 

effect: '^ou think I am telling an improbable tale. I mean always 
to tell the truth, but if I fail to do so sometimes, there are others 
who do, too. Take, for example, Walter Map. Tou, dear listener, 
you teU the truth always, of course (*Ne quit pas que nul de vus 
mente,' 1. 7186)." Whether Map wrote a Lcmcelot or not, the part 
of the Ipomedon just preceding these words might naturally have 
reminded Hue that Map also had told a tale of a young man whc^ 
in spite of all the blandishments and even taunts of a queen, had 
not yielded to her love and had finally vindicated his prowess. 
Disguised in another's armor, he had vanquished a giant {De Nugis, 
Dist. m, ch. 2). As internal evidence shows that parts of the 
De Nugis were written as early as 1181, it is quite possible that 
Hue knew this story of Sadiue and Cfalo. (Cf. Hinton, Walter 
Map'e De Nugia Curialium, Puh, M. L. A., Mch., 1917, pp. 106 
and 131.) 

Digitized by 


474 LUCY M. GAY 

Chescun de cez ad bieo garde 

A autre sa virginity (11. 10500 ff.). 

Meleager is not the husband of the duchess of Calabria, 
but king of Sicily and her uncle.*^ It is to this uncle's 
court** that Ipomedon goes incognito when he hears of 
the proposed tourney in which he, who shows himself the 
bravest, is to marry his beloved. Knowing that her uncle 
would certainly go, he plane to accompany him. For bet- 
ter concealment of his identity, he proposes to play the 
role of dru la reine^^ Immediately on arriving, he asks 
Meleager's permission to do this and the permission is 
granted. He is to serve her at table, escort her to and 
from her room morning and evening and give her the kiss 
of salutation.** Pretending he cared nothing for the 
tourney but only for the himt and his duties to the queen, 
but going to the tourney each day while his mestre leads 
the hunt, he does fight first in white armor, then in red 
and then in black, but contrary to the statement of M. 
Bardoux, he sends the whit« horse he rode the first day 
to Meleager: 

Cest blanc, ke j'oi le premer jur, 
Dunez al rei, vostre seignur { 1. 6663 f . ) . 

The red one he sends to the queen : 

A la reine rcdunez 

De meie part cest deatrer sor ( 1. 6639 f . ) . 

The black horse he sends to Capaneus, nephew and heir 
presumptive of Meleager.** 

Cest neir dunez Capaneus (1. 6671). 
It is the horse of Meleager, won in the tourney, 

"Ll. 49-103. ••L. 3071. *L1. 73-80. 

"LI. 2618 ff. »L1. 3005 ff. 

Digitized by 



Sis destrerB fut un veirs liarz (1. 5096). 

that he last sends to his " Fidre," the duchess. 

Un en i ad, ke fut le rei. 

Celui redunez de part mei 

A la fiere k'il est mut bon (1. 6675 fP.). 

Nothing is said of what became of the armor he wore. 
There is no pretense of love on the part of Ipomedon for 
the queen during the two months he spent as her dm. 

Ne li vint pas a volente 

K'il ja mes d'autre seit ame 

Ne quert autre amer en sa vie (H. 3087 ff.). 

The queen might have loved him and made him her dru 
in reality, it is said, if he had shown knightly prowess. 
In fact, in spite of this fault, the next to the last night 
he was to escort her to her room, giving her the nightly 
kiss as per agreement with the king, the poet writes: 

Sis druz en la chambre la meine 

Si la besa de bon' estraine; 

Cument k'il fust a la reine ^ 

Fust le beser bone medecine 

Mes 11 le prist trestut a gas" (11. 5500 ff.). 

Here we have then in the Ipomedon the hero in the 
course of his love story covering seven years, playing for 
two months the role of dru la reine without any love for 
her, and simply to win another woman, while at the open- 
ing of the Charette, Lancelot is the accepted lover of 
Queen Guinivere. 

It is curious to note that the word dru is not found in 
the Charette. Lancelot is never called the dru la reine. 
After Erec, in which it is said that the hero made Enide 

" Cf . 11. 10369 f . : A vostre uncle pus a Palerme Vendi veissie 
pur lanteme. 

Digitized by 


476 LUOT M. OAT 

s'amie et sa drue,^^ the word apparently lost caste with 
him. It is hi^y improbable therefore that the role of 
dru la reine was suggested to Hue by the Charette. If, as 
Marie de France says, any beautiful lady waa looked upon 
as peculiarly unfortunate if she did not have a dru,^^ the 
creation of the role of dru la reine would require little 
inventive genius. ^ 

The greatest novelty in the Charette waa exactly the 
depiction of a love that made the lover insensible to 
shame *^ and disgrace *^ and even to physical pain,** that 
held life itself not too dear a price to pay for a frown of 
displeasure ** of the loved one, that set the beloved on a 
pedestal and worshipped before her as before an altar.*^ 
It is this that would certainly have caught the fancy of a 
fellow poet. But there is no hint of such a love in 
IpomedofL Even after the tourney, when the hero has 
every right to claim the Fiere and is assured that she will 
die if he leaves her again,*^ he goes off without speaking 
to her and remains away a year longer.*® Chretien's 
cortaisie of love ''^ as shown in the Charette, he had not 
learned : 

"jBrec, L 2439. We find the word once again in Pero^ L 897S: 
Gktuyain teUs his sister that Grinomalanz claims her as his drue. 

** Si bele dame tant mar fust 

s'ele n'amast u dru n'eUst! 
Que devendreit sa curteisie, 
s'ele n'amast de druSrier {Equitan, 11. 83 ff.) 

"* Charette, 11. 4387 flf. ♦•/ft., IL 4670 f.; IL 4734 ff. 

*/d., 11. 6686 ff. -/p., 1. 6313. 

•75., U. 4667 ff. -L. 7224. 

"^ Charette, 11. 4356 ff. 

^M. Bardoux says after a brief r6sum6 of the prose Lancelot, 
still comparing it with IpomSdon: "Bic in utramque fabulam in- 
ducuntur duae mulieres, et ambae famosi bellatoris amorem sibi 
consiliare conantur" {De Walterio Mappio, p. 167). Any novice in 
Arthurian Uterature knows that it is Lancelot who tries to win 
and keep the love of Guinivere and not vice versa. 

Digitized by 



Mout est qui aimme obeiasaiiz (Char,, 1. 3816). 

It is no tale of courtly love that we have in Ipomedon, 
but the tale of a man in love with a maid whom he intends 
to marry when he is ready. To his host, who, after the 
tourney, urges him to stay and marry the Fidre, he re- 
plies in effect that when a young man marries, he " set- 
tles down " as a rule and nothing more is heard of him : 

Jombles horn sui e bachelor, 

De femme aveir ne del haster; 

Li jomble, ki trop co desirent, 

S'un en amende, mil empirent (11. 6647 ff.). 

Hue's mestre had indeed told him on learning of his 
love for the Fidre : 

J'en ai joie ke viis amez, 

Kar a tuz jurz meulz en valdrez, 

Kar cU, ki aime par amur, 

De plus conquert pris et yalur, 

E'il se peine d'estre tut dis 

Plus francs, plus pruz, de meulz apris (U. 1693 ff.)* 

But this is in Ipomedon simple embroidery and not the 
very woof of the story as in Chretien. This conception 
that^a knight improved when he had a lady-love a amie 
ou a fwme to fight for is so thoroly exploited by Chretien 
that one is apt to jump to the conclusion that in this at 
any rate there is evidence that Hue de Eotelande was ac- 
quainted with him. In essence, the idea is, of course, as 
old as thought, but we find the same development of it 
elaborated by Chretien a common-place in the literature 
of his day. 

It has perhaps not been suflSciently noted that not only 
women with their inspiring love, but the three days' 
tourney and the knights wearing armor of a single color, 
are already in Geoffrey of Monmouth : " Quicumque ergo 
famosus probitate miles in eadem erat, unius coloris vesti- 

Digitized by 


478 LUCY M, GAY 

bus atque armis utebatur. Facete etiam muliereB con- 
similia indumenta habentur, nullius amorem habere digna- 
bantur nisi tertio in militia approbatus esset. Eflficieba- 
tur ergo castae mulieres, et milites armors illarum 
meliores" (lib. ix, p. 13). "Refecti tandem epulis, 
diversi diversos ludos composituri campos extra civitatem 
adeunt. Mox milites simulacrum praelii ciendo, eques- 
trem ludum componunt: mulieres in edito murorum as- 
picienteS; in furiales amoris flammas amore joci irritant. 
. . . Consumptis ergo primis in hunc modum tribus 
diebus" (lib. ix, p. 14)." 

In Thebes, on the walls of the tent of Polinic^, are 
painted among other things : 

Li cembel et les envaies 

Que danzel font por lor amies (U. 2941 ff.). 

Ismeine recognizes Aton, 

A la manche del cidaton 
Que il aveit por conoissance, 

and points him out to her sister : 

Co est AtoB que jo la vei 

Veez com broche a eel tomeil 

Sor tote rien amer le dei. 

Car tot ico fait il por mei (11. 4461 ff.).*» 

In Eneas, the doctrine is distinctly stated: Lavinia, 
speaking of her love for the hero, says: 

*Much importance has been placed (cf. Vulg. Version of Art. 
Rom. V. I, p. 11, n.) on the fact that in the prose Lancelot and in 
Ipom^dofij the knights on the three successive days fight in armor 
of the same different colors. But after Geoffrey, given a motive 
for disguise, the amount of invention required of a poet to make 
his hero fight in different colored armor each day, is reduced to a 
minimum, and, had Hue had our Lancelot before him, we may 
credit him with wit enough to have at least changed the colors. 

•Cf. also TMhe9, 11. 6000 f.; 9081 ff.; 3S47ff.; 4147 ff., etc. 

Digitized by 



Gar ainz que la bataille Beit, 

Li voil primes faire saveir; 

S'en iert plus fiers al mien espeir. 

Se de m'amor est a 86ur, 

Molt Ten trovera oil plus dur; 

Molt en prendra grant hardement, 

SHI sot onkes d'amor neient (11. 8756 ff.). 

Kolbing seems to think that even generosity as one of 
the chief characteristics of the knight, must be looked for 
in the romances of the Eound Table : " Wenn eine der 
ersten eigenschaften, die den Artusritter zieren sollen, die 
freigebigkeit ist, so wird gerade diese vom dichter dem 
Ipom6don nachgeriihmt," etc.*^^ But generosity was after 
prowess the crowning virtue of even the heroes of the 
Chansons de geste. In Thebes also, Ipomedon is larges 
mesureement,^^ and in the lament ^^ of the people over 
the death of Aton, largesse is the first of his virtues ex- 
tolled : three quarters of the lament is devoted to it. 

That Ipomedon in Hue's poem gives a mantle ^^ to the 
butler, and that he Mvlt out done et despendu has no dis- 
tinctive bearing on the subject. The significant point is 
that the mantle is given by Ipomedon to d servant of the 
house that he enters, and no mention is made of any 
mantle's being given to him by his hosts. In Kolbing's 
reference, Ipomedon is, to be sure, but a youth, but later 
on in the story, after he has been knighted and goes to 
Meleager's court, no mantle is given him on his arrival.*^* 
On the contrary, it is he who gives to Capaneus, assign- 
ed by the king to take him to a hotel, a wonderful cup, 
and keeps him to the dinner for which he himself pro- 
vides. '^'^ In Chretien, not only is a knight royally enter- 

••Kttlbing, A, p. 28. "K81bing, A, p. 28. 

«L1. 7275 flf. "LI. 2887 ff. 

•LI. 6313-6356. "LI. 2901 ff. 

Digitized by 


480 LUCY M. OAT 

tained on his arrival at a caatle, but a f reeh mantle *• ia 

given him, often of escarlate, the most expensive doth of 

the day.*^^ 

It is the same with courtoisie and with prouesse.^^ Proz 

et corteis is a common qualification of the heroes of 

Thebes.^^ Nor were the Theban heroes lacking in social 

courtesy : 

Poliniote que corteis fist, 

Qui sa m%re par la main prist, 

La la mena ou li reis gist: 

Li reis se lieye, si rassisti 

Pues la baisa, et les puceles 

Demande lor de lor noveles (11. 4099 ff.). 

When the daughter of Daires begs for mercy for her 
father, the king is so smitten with her beauty that for 
love of her he grants what he had refused his barons, and 
one of these in indignation says to the others: 

.... Issi vait d'amie 

D'amors et de chevalerie. 

Se YOB le tenez a folie 

II le tient a grant corteisie (11. 8545 ff.). 

Even the giving of a horse won in the tourney •** by a 
knight to his lady is not peculiar to Arthurian romance. 
In Thebes we read that Parthonopeus gave the horse he 
won from Itier to a youth and said: 

"Cf. Quicherat, Hist, du Costume m France, p. 180. 

"Char,, 11. 1022, 1671, 4600; Yvain, 11. 232, 1884, 5429. 

"KOH)ing, A, pp. 28 ff. 

"LI. 271, 359, 994, etc.; cf. Troie, 11. 6353 ff., etc. 

**It should be noted that while the word tomei is oommonlj 
used in TMhes as a synonymn of battle, con^bat, reference is made 
to the tomei of pleasure: cf. 11. 6167 f. 

Et o la joie que il ont 
A la cite tomeier voni. 

Digitized by 



" Amis," fait il, " alez m'en tost 
As pucelea que sont en Tost, 
£t o le frein et o la sele, 
Le presentez a la pucele 
Que a la pofpre inde vestue 
Tot senglement a sa char nue: 
Par ceste enseigne mant m'amie 
For 16 ai fait chevalerie" (11. 4365 ff.). 

Covrtoisie in its broader sense, also as including all the 
graces with which a knight should be endowed, is nota- 
bly different in Ipomedon and in Chretien's works. There 
is no knight errantry, properly speaking, in Ipomedon. 
The only approach to it is when, disguised as a fool, the 
hero accompanies Ismeine back to Calabria and defends 
her on the journey from various assaults.^^ He wins his 
spurs mainly in war.^^ The help he gave cum soldeer to 
Atreus, king of France, against the duke of Lorraine is 
described •• at some length. 

Half the poem is concerned with the tourney and the 
hunt, whereas the tourney in Chretien is but an episode.^* 
It is quite a different affair also from the elegant social 
event described by the Champagne poet. No mention is 
made of pretty loges de fust ^^ for the women. Meleager's 
queen did not even attend *• the tournament. The only 
woman mentioned as watching the fray was the heroine, 
who did so from the estres ^'^ of her dongun. The royal 
tent is adorned with the eagle and carbuncle as in Thebes.^^ 
The word glaive is used for lance. Chr6tien does not use 

«L1. 8211 flf. "LI. 1771 flf; U. 7236 flf. 
•LI. 7284-7636. 

•'Ereo, U. 2135-2266; CUg^, IL 4629-4985; Char., 11. 6596-6078; 
Pero,, IL 4980-5550. 
•Cf. OligSa, 1. 3265; Ohar., 11. 5600 flf. 

-/p., U. 3151 f. "76., 3602. 

•r^dftw, 11. 2953, 4065, etc.; cf. /p., U. 3291 flf; Pero,, 1. 625, 

Digitized by 


482 LUCY M. OAT 

the word after Erec.^^ Freseaux, a word not in Chre- 
tien's vocabulary, were used not only to lace sleeves and 
helmets, but to fasten the banner to the lanceJ^ The 
knights are rallied by the blowing of horns as in a battle.^^ 
In the Charette, the herald runs crying : " Or est venuz 
qui aunera." ^* 

After unhorsing his opponent, Ipomedon runs him 
down with the piz del destrer,''^ as when fighting in 
earnest. Lancelot, when he has unhorsed his enemy, 
alights himself to fight with the sword.^* On each of the 
three days the tourney in Ipomedon d^enerates into a 
veritable battle: 

Ore comence mut dur estur, 
Trebuchent e murent plusur, 

E meint la boielle i traine 
E meint la cervele i espant, 

Li vif i regrettent les morz, 

Grans dole i ad e descumforz, etc., (11. 38S5 ff.). 

In the tourneys in Chretien, no mention is made of any 
one's being killed. When the contest between Gauvain 
and Cliges lasts longer than king Arthur deems fitting, he 
puts an end to the tournament entirely : 

Que eanz querele et sanz halne 

N'afiert bataille n'anhatine 

A nul prodome a maintenir" (Clig^t, 11. 4969 flf.). 

••/p., U. 3636, 3664, 3948, 4631, 4662-4668; cf. Fdrster in Glos. 
to Ereo, 1. 2874, and Th^hea, 1. 9066. 

"/p., 11. 422, 2268, 2732, 3170, etc., 10203; cf. TMhea, 1. 6322. 

"/p., 1. 6832; TlUhea, 1. 9499. "L. 6260; cf. 1. 9662. 

"Cfcctr., 11. 6983, 6582, 6691. '* CJuir., 11. 860 ff. 

"Cf. 11. 4820 ff. and 11. 6163 ff. 

'*The impression one receives in reading the account of the tour- 
ney in IponUdon, is exactly the same as that which M. Jusserand 
says that he received from reading the ffiatoire de Oisillaume le 

Digitized by 



Ipomedon furnishes indeed an interesting commentary 
to the decree promulgated about the time of its composi- 
tion by Henry II, forbidding^'' tournaments on the 
ground of their mortality. 

Hue, contrary to Chretien, insists upon the learning 
and intellectual acumen of his hero : 

Li vadlet oncor sot assez, 

£ si fut il mult bien lettrez 

De plus agu engin serra 

Une reison, melz entendra (11. 203 ff.). 

Even a song, sung by Ipom6don, was of his own mak- 
ing: "Un chaunt, k'il out fet, vet chantant" (1. 2721). 
Hue's hero therefore fulfilled to the letter the require- 
ments for corteisie of his compatriot, Robert of Ho: 

¥iz, j'entent oe a corteisie 

Ke horn sache chevalerie, 

E qu'il sache bien chevauchier 

E bien eslessier sun destrier, 

E sache si versefier 

Ke rien ne mette sanz mestier, 

E de chiens sache la mestrie, 

Des oiseaus e de venerie, 

E bel parout e seit mesurable 

A respundre, e puis bien estable (11. 1105 ff). 

MariohaX, "celle d'une vaillance, d'un entrain, d'un m^ris de la 
mort et des coups, d'une f^ocit6 inconsciente, d'une joie d6bordante 
qui nous rapprochent fort pr^s des races primitives h^roiques et 
sauvages" {Lea Bporta dona Vancienne France, Revue de Porta, 
16 mai, 1900, p. 307). M. Jusserand judges of the tourney in the 
twelfth century by Guillaume: '^Les dames * * * ne sont men- 
tionn^es que bien rarement. On n'efit su qu'en faire A oette date, 
ni oti les mettre" (Fb., p. 309). Tet Chretien was Guillaume's con- 
temporary. May it not well be that Guillaume and Hue reflect 
conditions in England, and that the tourney in France should be 
judged more by Chretien T 

^Oe^a HenrM II. Benedict of Peterborough, p. 226, A. D. 
Mar. 19, 1179. 


Digitized by 


484 LUOT M. OAT 

The descriptions of physical beauty and dress, the di- 
agnoses of love-sicknesS; and the monologues in Ipomedon, 
suggest naturally Chretien's work. But all this was ma- 
terial that Chretien had at hand in the works of his im- 
mediate predecessors and contemporaries. One of the 
reasons of his popularity lay undoubtedly in the dexter- 
ous manner in which he made use of it. He does not 
simply say as the authors of Thebes, and Troie, that his 
heroine's hair was ** Plus reluisanz que n'est fins ors." ^** 
In the Charette "^^ he makes Lancelot rhapsodize over the 
golden hue of the combings in the queen's comb, on 
the finding of which he almost faints. In Yvain, it is 
when Laudine is tearing her hair in grief for the death 
of her husband that he finds opportunity, in order to en- 
hance the pity of it, to dwell on the beauty of her hair, 
*' Qui passent or, tant par reluisent" ^^ In Cliges, the 
whole body of Soredamors is the dart of love, her hair 

being the feathers that sped it/' " si colore, Con 

s'il ierent d'or ou dore.'' ®^ Hue de Eotelande has none 
of these subtleties. The descriptions of physical beauty in 
Ipomedon are similar to those in the romances of anti- 
quity, descriptions made according to models given in the 
rhetorics of the schools.®^ There is at least one feature in 
the description of the Fiere, found in part also in 
Thebes,^^ which follows more closely the Latin sources 
cited by M. Faral for Eneas than the Eneas itself. The 
Latin lines of the descriptio forme pvlcrititdmis: 

''TfUbes, 1. 3822; Troie, 1. 6450. 
'•LI. 1397-1606. 
•« Yv(Un, 1. 1463. 
"0%^, 1. 786. 

*Cf. Edouard Faral in Romania, 1011, pp. 183 ff. 
" TMhes, n. 8431 f.: *'Levres groBsetes par mesure, Por Men baisier 
lea fist nature." 

Digitized by 



Oris honor rosei suspirat ad oscula, risu 
Succincto modica lege labella tument, 

and the lines from the elegy of Maximien: 

Flammea dilezi modicumque tumentia labra 
Quae mihi gestanti basia plena darent, 

are so closely rendered by Hue that it seems as if he must 
have known these originals. His heroine had a 

.... bouche od simple ris 

Les levres un poi eBpessettes, 

Pur ben beser aukes grossettes (11. 2246 ff.), 

and of his hero he says : 

la bouche si bien lui sist, 

Tuz jors vus fust vis, k'ele offrist 

A beiser dame ou dameisele; 

Tant par esteit vermeille e bele (11. 411 ff.). 

In the two we have all the points of the Latin models, 
the rosy, laughing lips, somewhat full, made for kissing. 
Chretien has the little, laughing mouth, 'Ma bochete 
riant," ®* but the words levres,^^ grossettes, and espes- 
settes do not appear in any of his descriptions. 

As for the symptoms of love-sickness, the author of 
Eneas, following Ovid's inspiration, or Ovid himself,®^ 

**CUg4s, 1. S21; c£. En4a8, 1. 3997. 

"In Perceval, 1. 7129, Uvre is used in describing the ronoin that 
Gauvain rode. 

**The Art d*Amur is definitely mentioned: Ip., 1. 1565. Were it 
not also for Hue's frequent allusions to the Scriptures, to the wise 
man and his "tens,'* and to the fool and his folly, we should be 
tempted to see an allusion to Ovid {Are Amatoria, i, 505: " Sed tibi 
nee ferro placeat torquere capillos/' etc.) in lines 2972 ff.: '' . . . de 
tresces cure n'aveit. Mut eime plus a tumeer, Ee de ses chevous a 
planier." Cf. William of Malmesbury (A. D. 1128) : "But this 
decency (of men in cutting their hair) was not of long continuance: 
for scarcely had a year expired, ere all who thought themselves 

Digitized by 


488 LUOT M. OAT 

might have offered Hue sufficient instructioii in their diag- 
nosis.^*^ His heroine even turns black ^^ before she f aints, 
a symptom unnoted by Chretien. As Lavinia, in Eneas ^^ 
and Melior in Partenopetis de Blois,^^ the Fidre has diffi- 
culty in pronouncing the name of the one she loves. Ko 
parallel of these scenes ^^ is found in Chretien. Love 
strikes the lady with his dart^^ Her heart leaves her body 
and goes away with her lover,** but the wandering heart 
is already in Eneas. 

Few of the many •* adages of love in Ipomedon, in the 
turning of which Hue is an expert, are found in Chretien : 

courtly relapsed into their former vice: they vied with women in 
length of locks and wherever they were defective put on false tresses; 
forgetful or rather ignorant of the saying of the apostle: 'If a 
man nurture his hair, it is a shame/ " Cf. also, Romamia, 1915, p. 
14, Ban8 et Matidre by Wm. A. Nitse. 

" Cf. Faral, Romania, 1911, pp. 214 ff. In the text of the Edlbing 
and Koschwitz edition we find all the symptoms, noted by M. Faral, 
except yawning (cf. En4a8, 11. 1231, 7923, 8077; Clig^M, L 886). 
But I believe Hue did say his heroine yawned. Lines 1099*1100 
read: ''A tel dolour la nuit travaille, Sovent torne, sovent bataille." 
The variant of hataiUe in MS. B is hadle after which the editors 
have put an exclamation point. At the time of the publication of 
their text, yawning had not perhaps been noted as a symptom 
of love. 

•/p., 1. 1464; En^aa, 1. 1324. 

"^n^M, 11. 8551ff. 

^Pari^opeuM de Bloia, IL 7240 ff. 

"^KQlbing calls attention to the parallel in Part^nopeua but does 
not mention that in EfUaa. Yet if either was Hue's model, it was 
surely the latter. He uses the same two crucial words as the auth<»r 
of En4aB. His heroine aospira after each syllable and the confi- 
dante was obliged to asemhler the parts of the name {En4a», 11. 
8554, 8559; /p., IL 1497, 1502). In Part^nopeua, in attempting to 
pronounce her lover's name, Mdlior "Balbie I'a en sanglotant" 
(L 7247). 

"/p., L 8781. 

••/p., 11. 1299-1315; EfUas, 11. 8350 ff. 

•«L1. 764 f., 895 f., 1698 ff., 4306 ff., 6716 ff., 8006 f. 

Digitized by 



Tost est Toil la ou est ramur, 

Le dei la, ou Ten sent dolur (IL 799 f.)* 

Dount savrai bien ke saimz dolur 

Ne puit Tern pas tenir amur (11. 1233 f.). 

Mout par est dous Tentrer d'amur, 

Mes poy et poy crest la docour 

Si douoement, ainz que Ten saehe, 

Qe tut le quoer del ventre arache (11. 1261 ff.)* 

Tus jurz ala issi et vait 

Ke femme plus sun quer crera 

Ke mul autre, u amer vodra (IL 238Cff.). 

Both the author of Eneas and Benoit de St. Maure had 
embroidered upon the theme : 

Tote autre rien puet horn danter 
Mes amour n'est james dauntee.** 

There ie no savor of Chretien's manner in Hue's de- 
lightful elaboration which follows the lines of that in 
Troie,^'' tho poetically so superior. 

Mut ad grant valur amur fine, 
Ki set danter rei e reine 
E prince e due, cunte e barun; 
Vers lui ne valt sens ne resun. 
Ke valut Adam sa beauts? 
Ke valut David sa bunt^T 
Ke valut le sens Salemun? 
Ke valut la force Sancunt 
Adam par femme fut veneu, 
David par femme fut desceu. 
Salemun refut engign4, 
E Sancun a femme boisd: 
Quant force ne vaut, ne beauts 
Sens ne eointise ne bunt^ 
E qe vaudra dune cuntre amur? 
Certes, ren nule al chef de tur! 

(/p., 11.0003 ff.). 

"Cf. En^a9, IL 08851. 

••/p., 11. 764 f; EfUaa, 11. 8«33ir. 

"LI. 18041 if. 

Digitized by 



The language of Ipomedon confirms the impression of 
the content. Whether or not it be held with Mussafia that 
Hue followed •* the usage of the best continental poets, 
" unico anglonormannismo un esempio di -un : un," ^^ it 
still remains true that the language of Hue differs too 
widely from Chretien's to make it seem plausible that he 
knew much of the French writer. Numerous rimes in 
Ipomedon such as tnalveis : curteis (1757, &c) by the side 
of malveise : eise, 8621, malveis : engres, 9686 ; hameis : 
rets, 2154, as well as mes (-mais) : hameis, 1488, Ac ; 
ireez: pardunez, 8869 ; bachUer : ^^^ bordeier, 623 may be 
explained not as anglo-normanisms, but as simply due to 
change of suflSx,^^^ but Chretien does not allow himself 
such liberties for the sake of rime. Once only ^^* Chrfitien 
rimes vos: dos but similar rimes are numerous and r^ular- 
ly used in Ipomedon.^^^ According to Forster, there is 

** Sulla oritica del tetto del romaneo in franoese antioo IponMan, 
p. 21. 

■•/&., n. 3; c£. B^dier, Le Trittan de Thomas, v. n, p. 22, n. 11; 
''On Bait pourtant que le ProietUaut d'Huon de Eotelande n'offre 
pas une seule rime non francaise." 

^Mussafia failed to notice 11. 6647-8 hacheler : hosier. 

^Mussafia, SitUa oritica, p. 22, n. 1; p. 23 and p. 23, n. 2. Such 
rimes as turcheiae : rioheise, 2924 ; riohesoe : prue»ce, 3493, might 
have been included here. There is at least one rime, which probably 
escaped the notice of Mussafia, impossible to explain in this way. 
Speaking of Amphion, the poet says: '^E mut resteit pruz e curteis 
[E] mut Bout des anciens lais,'' U. 1964 f. That it is indeed lais 
we have here, is evident by referring to Th^hea where we read: 
" Nous osteron tutes les pierres Que Amphyon, vostre harpierres, As- 
sembla ci par artimaire E par la force de gramaire Et par le chant 
de sa viele," IL 9321 ff. {Rom, de TMhet, v. n, Appendioe n). 
Mussafia overlooked probably also; oruei : naael, 7097 by the side 
of iel : ontd, 4083, etc. {8uUa oritioa, p. 21, lo.) 

"^Ereo, 1. 3437 (F5rster's ed., 1909, p. 34). 

"•Ftw ; ambedeu$, 6966; vus : delitua, 7196; vub : orgeiUus, 5978, 
etc.; cf. 8255, 7674, 8602, 9605, etc.; cf. pruM : iresUWy 1592, 1759, 

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only one word in Chretien's vocabulary in which it can 
be shown by the rime that ui was a rising diphthong: 
luite : ^^^ comfite : ipocrite. Ipomedon offers many such 

The rime femme : regne, found only in Erec ^^^ of 
Chretien's work, is found repeatedly ^*^^ in Ipomedon. 
Other imperfect rimes, such as Chretien does not use 
after Erec, are found: grisolites: amatistes; ^*^® vermeilles: 
esteilles {-etoUes) ; ^^^ Palerme : lanteme-^^^ 

Chretien uses regularly va/^^ third singular of the 
present of aller. Hue vait, Chretien's imperfect of eatre 
is iere. Hue's ere.^^^ The Norman imperfect of first con- 
jugation verbs is used by Hue: portout: ovi.^^^ 

The style of the Ipomedon strengthens the conviction 
reached by a study of its language and content. Contrary 
to Chretien's habit, Hue orients the reader at the outset, 
not only in regard to the names, but in regard to the an- 
tecedents of his principal characters. 

etc.; prust: dulz, 2241, etc.; parout (pr. subj. of parler) : dewolt 
{=de8veut), 1957, etc. 

^Cf. FSrster's Clig^s, ed. 1910, note to 1. 3363. 

^Amis : enuys, 9476; quit {oogito) : dit, 6107, 1997, 2887, etc.; 
quit: petit, 2436; qudaaei fremisse, 4882; outr: $<Ullir, 9583, etc. 
The rime nuyt: mut, 1266, would be an anglo-normanism ; cf. Le 
Trietan de Thomas, v, n, p. 16, § 9. 

'••L. 1911; cf. FCrster'a Ereo, p. 36. 

**'L1. 447, 1909, 2363, 3909, etc.; cf. also Loheregne: femme, 
I. 7269. 

'••/p., 2822; Ereo, 6807. 

**/p., 2675, 4486; cf. Erec. 4973. 

"•L. 10367. 

^Erec., via : trova, 2671; Ip. vait : fait, 1336, 2157; trait : vait, 
2386, Ac. 

^Ereo, iere I ohiere 3326; Ip, ere: emperere 346; frere: ere, 1716, 

"•L. 1623; cf. 11. 1696, 2653, 3302, Ac. 

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490 LUOY U. GAT 

Anaphora,^^* Beldom practised by Chretien, is con- 
spicious in Ipomedon as in the romances of antiquity. 

There are also various reminders of transposed par- 
allelisms ^^'^ of which Mr. Warren finds but three ex- 
amples ^^* in Chr6ti«i: 

Conge demande si s'en vait 

Onques deyant nel fet aveit"' 

Onques mes cong6 demaunda (11. 923 ff.). 

Kar ren ne valt lunge favele, 

Ne favele ne lung sermun (U. 7192f.). 

Une bere fet si Ten porte 

A Tost en porte sun seignur (U. 9030 f.)* 

There is also an effective lyric repetition ^^® where the 
rime word alone is different : 

E mort trebuche le vassal 

E mort trebuche le cheval (11. 6887 f.)* 

Mr. Warren sees in the fact, as he claims, that only 
ten per cent.^^® of the couplets in Ipomedon are broken, 
a reaction against the influence of Chretien, while in my 

"*/p., 11. 4587 flf.; 4823 ff.; 8741 ff.; 9329 ff.; 9576 ff.; 10886 ff. 
Gf. TMhes, 11. 46, 65 ff. (seven lines beginning with Tant,), 2953, 
3829 ff,. &c. KClbing seeks a paraUel for this feature of Hue's style 
in Part4nopeu8 de Blois. 

"•F. M. Warren, Mod, PhU., in, pp. 22 f. 

^One from Perceval might have been added: 

Si com li fos le devisa 

Si com li fos devin6 Tot 

Bien fu voirs li devins au sot (1. 4276 ff.). 

Ad despendu mult largement 

Mult out done et despendu (LI. 663, 666). 

"'Cf. Mussafia, Sulla oriiica, p. 23, 5o. 
"•Warren, Mod. PM., m, p. 21. 
^Mod. PhU,, IV, p. 672. 

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opinion Hue was but following the example of Eneas, or 
of Thebes ^^^ with which he connects his own work.^*^ 

From this study, it would appear that if Hue de Eote- 
lande was acquainted with Chretien de Troyes before he 
wrote Ipomedon, he could have known him but slightly 
and in his earlier work. 

LuoY M. Gay. 

^ It has perhaps not been sufficiently noted (ef. Warren, Mod. Phil,, 
IV, p. 666; Paul Meyer, Rom,, tyyitt, p. 16; Bormuom, Bom. ForaoK, 
XXV, p. 320) that parts of TMbes-ict, 11. 2083-26S0) offer abun- 
dant examples of the so-called new technique of the octosyllabic 
couplet, the breaking up of the unity of the line as well as the 
couplet, and the effective use of dialog. 

«/p., 1. 10540. 

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Theories offering interpretations of Chaucer's Parle- 
metii of Fovles based upon the orthodox belief that the 
central incident of the poem is in some way connected 
with a royal marriage have at least refused to do loyal 
service at one prominent point. No theory of historical 
allegory has yet explained in a wholly satisfactory manner 
the outstatiding fact that the Parlement of Fovles is artis- 
tically a well rounded poem, and yet contains an unfin- 
ished story. Why does not the f ormel eagle choose her 
mate after our interest has been aroused in liie pleadings 
of her lovers ? 

Compliments to monarchs are not wont to go half -paid. 
We may draw upon history to show that Anne of Bohemia 
actually did make delay in her choice of a husband, but 
we are constrained to admit that Chaucer could have 
made a compliment to his king and queen more complete 
than that supposed to lie in this poem, had he so chosen. 

Many of the points against the acceptance of an histori- 
cal allegory have been adduced by Professor Manly. ^ 
The sponsors of allegorical interpretation have had trou- 
blous questions to answer, whether they have sought to 
identify principal bird characters in the Parlement with 
John of Gaunt and Blanche of Lancaster,* with Enguer- 
rand de Couci and Isabel Plantagenet,* with King Rich- 
ard II of England, Anne of Bohemia, William of Bavaria, 

*Pe3t8chHft fur Lorenz Morsbach, Btudien tur Engliachen PhUo- 
logie, L (1913), pp. 279 ff. 

•Tyrwhitt's Chaucer, note ver. 1920; Morley, English Writers, v, 
pp. 154 ff. 

* Saturday Review, Apr. 16, 1871. 


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chauceb's pablbmbnt of fottleb 498 

and Friedrich, Margrave of Misnia,* or with Richard, 
Anne^ King Charles VI of France, and Friedrich of 
Misnia.^ Often trouble has appeared in the matter of 
a plausible date for the poem which would allow historical 
interpretation. Even after 1381 had come to be regarded 
as a probable date of composition, and the historical alle- 
gory had been arranged accordingly, Professor Manly 
offered internal evidence for the date of 1382/ 

Only too little has been found in literary sources which 
might obviate some of the difficulties met in the explana- 
tion of the Parlement of FovXes. By some the De Planctu 
Naturae of Alanus de Insulis has been thought a source 
sufficient to suggest to Chaucer the story of love arguments 
by the birds. Professor Skeat says, " And the fourth part, 
11. 295 to the end, is occupied with the real subject of the 
poem, the main idea being taken, as Chaucer himself tells 
us, from Alanus de Insulis.^' "^ But as a matter of fact, 
Chaucer is silent as to the idea of his story. In his only 
mention of Alanus he merely adknowledges a debt to him 
for a description and perhaps for a setting: 

And right as Aleyn, in the Pleynt of Kinde, 

Devyseth Nature of aray and face, 

In swich aray men mighten hir ther finde. (11. 316-18) 

This is, of course, no more than a casual statement by 
Chaucer that his figure of Nature has the appearance of 
Nature as described by Alanus.® But in any case, we 

*Koch, Chodtcer Essays (Chaucer Society), pp. 400 ff 

'Emerson, Modem Philology, vm, pp. 45 ff.; Modem Language 
Notes, XXVI, pp. 109 ff.; Moore, Modem Language Notes, xxvi, 
pp. Sff. 

^Studien zur Englisehen Philologie, L, pp. 288 ff. 

^Skeat's OJtauoer, i, p. 67. 

'Skeat's error is noticed by Sypherd, Studies in Chaucer's Hous 
of Fame (Chaucer Society), 1907, p. 26. 

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cannot say that Chancer extracted the central incident of 
the Parlement from the work of Alanns. The passage 
in question from the Planctus * merely describes the robe 
of !N'ature as perpetually changing in hue^ and as having 
on it ^' as a picture fancied to the sight " a parliament in 
which there are various birds. There is no hint of a court 
being held by these birds before Nature, and of a love 
story such as Chaucer's there is not the slightest trace. 
The most we call say is that Chaucer takes some inspi- 
ration from Alanus for his description of Nature, and 
for his list of birds, in which he has made maliy changes ; 
beyond this he does not seem to have used Alanus. 

Since no sufficient source has thus far been suggested 
for the part of the poem dealing with the birds and their 
loves,*^ we are left with two most likely possibilities: 
Chaucer is making his story out of whole cloth to fit 
historical characters, as many all^gorists would have us 
believe, or he is following a source which for some reason 
we have not been able to identify. Certain peculiarities 
in the telling of the tale and in its ending would make 
more or less unlikely another possibility, namely, that 
Chaucer is merely telling in spirited manner an imaginary 
dream without all^orical or conventional meaning. 

However, there are sources for the central incident 
of the Parlement, which were extant and certainly within 
Chaucer's reach at the time he wrote, and which throw 

* Anglo-Latin Bcairioal Poets, e<L T. Wright, n, p. 437; quoted by 
Skeat in his Cha/uoer, i, p. 74; translated by Douglas M. Moffat 
(Tale Studies in Engliah, xzxvi, pp. 11 ff.). 

^*An admitted source for certain characteristicB of the central 
incident of the Parlement and its general framework la the French 
love-vision poetry (see Sypherd, Siudiee in Chaucer's Houe of Fame, 
pp. Iff., and pp. 20 ff.). Likewise the Court-of-Love poetry may 
have furnished hints for birds (see Manly, work cited, p. 285). But 
here again can be found no suggestion of the ftory itself. 

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light on each essential detail af the birds' love storj. 
Many of the puzzling things about the poem^ and especially 
the indecisive ending of its storj^ may find explanation 
in the conventional features of a widespread and very 
ancient folk-tale. The fact that this tale has almost noth- 
ijng to do with bird characters in its appearances outside 
Chaucer need not make trouble when comparisons come to 
be made. 

Space will permit here only a brief indication of the 
characteristics and importance of the many versions of 
The Contending Lovers, as I shall name the folk-tale, ver- 
sions whose interrelations and probable relation to Chau- 
cer's poem I am now working upon and hope to pre- 
sent in detail at a later time. However, it will be best 
to summarize at some length a story which is perhaps 
closest of all to Chaucer, both in date of composition, 
and in plot. 

The first riovella in II Paradiso degli Alberti, a col- 
lection of noveUe and discussions with a novelistic frame- 
work, is Delia Origine di Prato.^^ Wesselofsky has as- 
signed II Paradiso degli Alberti to Giovanni da Prato 
on external and internal evidence,^^ and dates it with 
some exactitude by means of the numerous references to 
historical characters and happenings in the work. It 
was written, he thinks, in the first years of the fifteenth 
century, but has to do with events which took place in 
1389.** Wesselofsky calls the work "ima specie di ro- 

" /{ ParadUo degU Alherti . . . . di Giovanni da Praia, del eodice 
autografo e anonimo delta Riccardiama a oura di Aleewndro WeaBeU 
ofsky, Bologna, 1867, n, pp. 08-171. 

^Ibid,, I, U, pp. 81 ff. 

^Ihid,, 1, i, pp. 24 ff. ; also pp. 220 ff. The "^ dates between which " 
Wesselofsky establishes as 1379 and 1415 by references to the death 
of two well known men. 

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manzo, ossia m^lio un tessuto di novelle e di ragionamenti 
che ebbero luogo svlV ultimo scorcio del secolo XIV, ai 
quali Tautore che li ricordo, giovine allora ed imberbe 
(come si vede dal brano sopracitato del proemio a stampa), 
confessa egli stesso aver preso parte insieme con molte 
altre persone, tutte storiche, che in quel tempo illustra- 
vano la repubblica e lo studio di Firenze." ^* 

There can be little question that the first tale, with 
which we are to deal, came from matter traditional in 
Italy, as will appear later, and this will have an impor- 
tant bearing on the possibility of Chaucer's having ob- 
tained it. If we accept the present place in Chaucer 
chronology of The Parlement of Foules, we cannot suppose 
that Chaucer could have come into contact with the 
Paradiso itseK, since Wesselofsky's arguments that the 
action of the latter must have taken place in 1389 seem 
very cogent.^*^ But Chaucer would not have had to get 
hold of the Paradiso itself in order to come by the material 
under consideration. 

The tale runs as follows: 

Ulysses on his Trojan expedition captures the city of Pidasonta. 
Among his captives are a beautiful maiden, "una fanciulla d'et& e^ 
di anni o circa a quatordici, di mirabile istiflcanza e divina bel- 
lezza/' and other ''donne e donzelle." Ulysses asks the girl who 
she is, and she says that her father was the valorous Pidasio, her 
mother Melissea, a nymph of the Wood of Ida, and that her own 
name is Melissa. She is sad because of the loss of father and 
mother, and prays the gods to help her to forget former happy times. 

Moved by her tears, and perceiving that she is indeed descended 
from the immortal gods, Ulysses tells her he wiU make her not a 
servant, but a " consorte " with his Penelope. He marries her and 
liberates the prisoners. Melissa bears a beautiful girl child to 
Ulysses, but her happiness is short-lived, for she dies soon after- 

"/W<f., I, i, p. 23. 
»/W<J., I, i, pp. 221 ff. 

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chauoeb's pablsmsnt of foules 4&7 

ward. As a last request she asks Ulysses to give the (laughter her 
own name, Melissa. 

Melissa, the daughter, becomes a most beautiful maiden while 
Ulysses is besieging Troy. When Ulysses and his companions reach 
Circe*s island, Circe, jealous of the beautiful Melissa, enchants her 
by a potion, and turns her into a sparrow-hawk.^ In her new 
shape Melissa rises and flies to Fiesole. Through a mishap she falls 
into a river, and in her exhausted condition begins a struggle against 
the water that has every promise of ending in her death. 

But the gods are kind to Melissa. Camerio, king of a princi- 
pality among the Etruscan powers, has chosen four young men 
named Laerte, Celio, Settimio, and Resio to help him in a certain 
religious ceremony. Riding by the river at the head of the caval- 
cade of young men, Laerte suddenly sees the bird and calls out to 
his companions that she should be rescued. Celio plunges into the 
stream and saves her. Settimio comments on her beauty and ad- 
jures his fellows to take good care of her. At this point Resio 
apparently does nothing for the little sparrow-hawk. 

Celio places Melissa in his breast, and the company proceeds 
onward to the village of Como, where Prato now stands. Here 
at an " allogimento" Celio takes the bird from his breast, and 
Resio, pitying her condition, asks the host for something to revive 
her. Meanwhile, however, some ''ninfe" come down from the 
nearby mountain, and from these Resio obtains flowers. One of 
these is a marigold, and when the sparrow-hawk sees it, she takes 
it In her beak and is at once disenchanted. She stands before the 
wondering youths as the divinely beautiful maiden that she was 
before her unfortunate meeting with Circe. 

Melissa modestly thanks the young men for her disenchantment, 
and does not forget to return pious thanks to the gods. Without 
delay all four youths fall violently in love with her. 

Who shall have her for his own? The problem is much more 
serious than it might be, because all the lovers are of equal nobili- 
ty, and none has an advantage over another in this respect. ''Et, 
perch^ ciascuno di loro era d^alto legnaggio e somma potenza, tanto 
fu la cosa pid di pericolo e grave." Indeed, the young men are 
known throughout Italy for their goodness and nobility. The 
argument grows heated. Laerte lays flrst claim to Melissa as 
having seen her flrst, but his companions are nothing slow at argu- 
ing their own claims. Each points out that he haa done something 

^ The Italian has " isparvieri." This seems only a diance re- 
semblance to any bird in the Parlemeni of Foule§, 

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indispensaible. Laerte then argues for a settlement by arms, and 
fiercely says he will prove his right to Melissa with sword in 
hand. The others readily accept this challenge and prepare to 

Meanwhile Melissa laments at length her fate, because she is 
apparently about to be the cause of strife among four young nobles 
to whom she wishes no harm. She addresses the immortal gods 
and reviews her past misfortunes. She concludes, "Che magiore 
dolore a me essere puote, che dinanze alia mia tristissima vista, 
per mia propria cagione i valorissimi giovani, e me sommamente 
amando, in tanta confusions veggia moriref Then she begs her 
lovers to kill her, rather than kill themselves for her sake. Her 
lament and her plea shame the youths, and they put up their arms. 

The tension is broken by an old man from among the people of 
the neighborhood, who addresses the young men respectfully, as 
one of low degree to his betters, and ventures to suggest that the 
inhabitants of that particular region had found a means of settling 
disputes. There is a temple where appeals to Jove accompanied by 
sacrifices are wont to be successful. Jove will act as a mediator. 

All repair to this temple, where each suitor calls on his chosen 
deity for aid in the controversy. Melissa invokes Jove as the judge. 
Then to the wonder of all present Jove gathers his cotirt, with 
Minerva and Venus by his side. 

Saturn, a "frigido e antichissimo vecchio," appears, and announces 
that he argues for Settimio. 

The Aboument of Satubn fob Settimio. — Settimio's case is clear- 
ly defined. Man is formed of two "nature," the intellect and the 
body. One is common to the gods, the other to wild-beasts. Settimio 
has above all else this greatest of gifts, intellect. His act in 
counselling his friends to take good care of the sparrow-hawk 
showed prudence, foresight, intellect. What the others did in res- 
cuing and disenchanting Melissa was largely due to chance. Where- 
fore, considering his royal stock, his noble intellect, and certain 
gifts he possesses useful in agriculture (which Saturn says is 
"dear to me and to you, o gods"), Melissa should go to Settimio. 

Mars, " il rubicondo e ferocissimo," announces that he is to argue 
for Laerte. 

The Aboument of Mabs fob Laebte.— >The cause of the " valoris- 
simo" Laerte is just and most worthy of consideration, notwith- 
standing the good argument in favor of Settimio just given. Things 
are conceived by the intellect, but carried out by the body. Laerte 
bravely and foresightedly rode in front of his friends to meet all 
that should happen. He saw the sparrow-hawk first, and as the 
first to adTocate her resone from the waters, she owes most to him. 

Digitized by 



Moreover, Meliesa is of noble fighting stock, since she is the daugh- 
ter of Ulysses, and so is Laerte the royal offspring (''prole reale") 
of moi glorious in arms. Laerte has the qualities necessary to make 
a ruler of the earth. In conclusion: ''Adunche, o iddii immortali, 
judicate e vedete il mio Laerte come pit! degno per condizione e 
discendimento di sangue, e per influenzia nostra, per pit! essercizio 
nobile e dottissimo in quello." 

Apollo, '' il grazioso vago e imberbe/' with a laurel wreath about 
his brow and a lyre in his right hand, acts as lawyer for Resio, 
and like a lawyer he refers to those who have argued before as 
"nostri aversari." 

The Abgttmext or Apollo for Resio. — Considering Resio's mind 
and body, who is so insensate that he would ever grant Melissa to 
another suitor? Of the four yoimg men, Resio'^ is the most fair and 
pleasing. Moreover, he has the power of seeing into the future," 
and of touching the divine chords of the lyre. He is a poet. As a 
matter of fact, it was Resio who actually restored Melissa to her 
original form when the others were almost ready to abandon her. 
" If you honor Resio, o gods, he can honor you in song and poetry. 
Therefore, give Melissa to him." 

Mercury, who is characterized as " Peloquente," with his serpent 
rod in hand, stands before the court to present Cello's case. Mercury 
is much more oratorical than the other advocates. 

The Abgument op Mebcuby fob Celio. — ^Who was it if not Celio 
who took Melissa from the river and cared for her? He loves her 
with the purest of flames, and demands her as his just right. 
"Quftli possono essere li cagioni che negata li sia? Certo nulle 
appreso alle leggi umane e divine.'' Among his accomplishments 
are eloquence, the art of writing and interpreting, and the knowl- 
edge of diverse nations and their languages. 

The Judgment. — ^After the arguing is over Jove declares that if 
there were more than one Melissa, surely each of these estimable 
young men would merit one of her. But since Melissa is after all 
only one maiden, he will turn her case over to his "figliuole" Venus 
and Minerva. Supported by Minerva, Venus judges that Melissa 
shall choose for herself the suitor she deems most pleasing, since 
love is an important consideration. 

"This and other strange professions or accomplishments which 
are attributed to the lovers, and yet seem to play no part in the 
story, will be better understood when the folk-tale behind the 
Paradiao is examined. Many are apparently petrifled features of 
the old tale. 


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The gods agree to this judgment, and look to the maid for her 
decision. Here the story ends strangely. We know that Melissa 
does make a choice, hut we have no hint as to which lover she takes. 
Not a word does the author venture in explanation, moreover. He 
says that there is feasting over the happy event, and that the gods 
are present at the nuptials, but who the brid^room is he does not 
choose to say. 

Here is a tale into which one cannot go far without 
finding obvious resemblances to the Parlement of Fovles. 
An important point at which the two stories touch is 
at the holding of love pleadings before a judge. The 
arguments are extremely well schemed in the Italian 
tale. How schematic the arguments are in Chaucer's 
poem appears most plainly perhaps when a short abstract 
of them is made: 

The fowl royal, highest in degree, whose rank itself 
is an argument in favor of his being granted the formel. 
(11. 415-551) 

1. He may not live long without the formel. 

2. None loves her as he does. 

8. Never in future will he cease to serve her. 
The second tercel, " of lower kinde." (U. 449-462) 

1. He loves as well as the first tercel. 

2. HiB service has been already shown in the past, 
and the formel will not have to depend merely 
upon promises for the future. He has served 
longer than any. 

3. He will never cease to love. 
The third tercel. (11. 463-483) 

1. He cannot vaunt long service, but he is convinced 
that the true lover may do more real serving in a 
half-year than some lovers in a great while. 

2. His love is truest. 

8. He will never cease to love. 

Digitized by 



In both the Parlement of Fovles and in the Pwradiso 
story the arguments are given as carefully and with as 
much formality as though they were being presented in 
an actual court of law. The appearance of the gods as 
pleaders or advocates in the Paradiso story makes the simi- 
larity here to legal procedure yet more striking. 

The pleading is so well done in both tales, in fact, that 
each of the suitors appears to have undeniable claims 
to the object of his desire, and the judge despairs of 
making any decision. Here begins to make itseK plain 
the real point of that type of tale to which both the Eng- 
lish and Italian works belong. The judge cannot reach 
any decision, and the girl or f ormel eagle, when the matter 
is given over to her, evidently does make a decision, but 
what it is the author does not choose to tell us. Such a 
tale is, of course, a hoax, intended all along to provoke 
discussion among the readers or hearers, after great in- 
terest has been aroused in the claims of the lovers. Pro- 
fessor Mainly, without venturing to suggest any source 
for this particular class of hoax tale, has shown how the 
Parlemeni of Fovles might be compared to a modern 
tale like Stockton's The Lady or the Tiger.^^ 

I summarize here what seem to be the important points 
of resemblance between the Parlement and the Paradiso: 

I. Three or four suitors have one object of affection. 
n. The suitors and the loved one are all very obviously 
of noble rank. 

III. A court is convened, of which the judge represents 
the guiding hand of worldly a'ffairs. Nature or Jove. 

IV. The claims of each suitor are presented with for- 
mality and completeness. 

'•Work cited, p. 287, note 4. 

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V. Eaoh argumesat is apparentlj of equal weight with 
the others. In both stories much is said about service, 
though in the PaHement of Fovles this is indetfinite service 
suggesting courtly love ideals, and in the Parodiso tale 
it is service of a more material character. 

VI. A proposal to settle the dispute by arms oceur& 
VIL An audience is present at the pleading and takes 

some part in the holding of the court. 
YIU. The judge is greatly perplexed and asks counsel 

IX. The girl or formel eagle is given the privil^e of 
deciding the dispute according to her own fancy. 

X. After all the arguing, we are left with no knowl- 
edge of the decision, although we are justified in inferring 
from both stories that some decision is made. 

Such an array of resemblances do not come from mere 
chance similarities between the tales of Giovanni da 
Prato ^® and Chaucer, even though at first blush the love 
story of the Parlement appears to be different in character 
from that in the Paradiso. The Italian tale is a more or 
less conventional " foundation story '* into which a folk- 
tale has been woven, and the essential points of relation- 
ship between Chaucer and Giovanni become even clearer 
when the general folk-tale which lies behind the two tales 
is examined. 

The Contending Lovers, which has been knovni to schol- 
ars by other and often confusing names, has a venerable 
position in folk-lore, for its ancestry is r^stered at an 
early period in India, birthplace of many stories which 
have been appropriated by Europe. It reaches European 
countries, Italy apparently among the first, through Persia 

^I adopt for convenience the assignment of authorship made by 
Wesselofsky, whose arguments have not been chaUenged, so far as I 

Digitized by 


ohauobb's pablbmbkt ov foules 503 

and Araina, following a usual route of migration for 
folk-tales travelling from Ori^it to Ocoidait. The story 
is one of love rivaliy' and lias very marked characteristics 
which make it easily possible to identify the various ver^ 
sions. Yet there are so many different distinct types and 
so much intermixture between the types, as well as so 
mudi admixture of features from other folk-tales, that 
investigators who have contributed to our knowledge of 
the story have usually been content to deal with only one 
or two types, perhaps for an immediate purpose which 
did not require a comprehensive treatment of the tale as 
a whole. In fact, it has never yet been pointed out that 
all the types constitute divisions of one common and well 
defined folk-tale th^ne. 

Benfey,^ Wtesselofsky,^! Olouston,^* D'Anoona,** Koh- 
ler,^* Ohauvin,^* Basset,^* and Cosquin *^ have written con- 
cerning different types of the tale or have collected cita- 
tions to versions. Benfey has dealt with the migration 
from Orient to Occident of what may be called the Rescue 
type,*® and his Ausland essay embodies not only the first 

'^Daa Mardhen von den "Menschen mit den ixmnderbatrein Eigen- 
eohaften" seine Quelle und seine Verbreitung, Ausland, xu (1868), 
pp. 969 ff., Kleiners Sohriften, n, lii, pp. 94 ff. 

»J7 Paradiso degli Alherti, i, ii, pp. 238 ff. 

'^ Popular Tales and Fictions, 1887, i, pp. 277 ff. 

^Siudj di Oritica e Btoria Letteraria, Bologna, 1912 (Refvised and 
enlarged edition), n, pp. ISOff. 

**Kleinere Schriften, i, pp. 438 ff. 

■ BihUographie des ouvrages Arahes, 1892-1909, vi, p. 133, note 3 ; 
vni, p. 76. 

^ Revue des Traditions PopulaAres, vn (1892), p. 188, note 4. 

"Revue des Traditions Populaires, xxxi (1916), pp. 98 ff. and 
145 ff. 

"8ee p. 508, below, for a scheme of claasiflcation. Perhaps the 
most familiar version of the Rescue type is Grimm 129, Die vier 
kunstreicJ^en BrUder. For very close analogues to Grimm see Fr. 

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scholarly treatment of The Contending Lovers, but is also, 
of course^ a dassic expression of some of his general 
theories of folk-tale transmission. Wesselofsky's notes 
are in many ways admirable; as in Benfey many tales 
are given at some length, and there is also in Wesselof sky 
material which Benfey had been nnable to use. These 
two are the only studies which aim to organize and com- 
pare versions at length, the other scholars mentioned con- 
fining themselves to brief presentations of material or to 
bibliographical notes. When it is considered that the 
work of both Benfey and Wesselofsky is over a half -cen- 
tury old, that they do not deal with all of the many well- 
represented lypes of the story, and that since their time 
a large number of versions have become accessible to the 
student, it becomes plain that a new study and organiza- 
tion of the material is most desirable. As has been re- 
marked, it will be impossible to do more in llie present 
paper than indicate all too sketchily the scope of The 
Contending Lovers and its importance in connection with 

A summary covering most versions of the story may be 
made as follows: 

Woeate, Zeit. fUr D, Myth., i, p. 338; Pan! S^mot, Oontea Popu- 
lairea de la Haute-Bretagne, 1880, No. 8, pp. 53 ff; Georg Widter 
und Adam Wolf, Jahrhuch fUr Rom, und Eng, Lit,, vn, p. 30; A. 
H. Wratislaw, Sixty Folk-Talea, 1889, No. 9, pp. 55 ff.; H. Parker, 
Village Folk-Tales of Oeylon, 1910, No. 82, n, pp. 33 ff. These all 
have striking similarities to the German tale. Because Grimm 129 
is so familiar, and because Benfey naturally gives it an important 
place in his essay, the mistake is sometimes made of considering it 
representative of all versions of The Contending Lovers. However, 
it is well to keep in mind that the tale in Grimm has gone far from 
the simpler Oriental versions, and shows much probable admixture 
from general folk-lore. With its highly skilled lovers and rescue 
accomplished by means of the ship, it is representative only of one 
class of versions, not of the whole tale. 

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chauceb's pablbment of foules 605 

Three or more youths (sometimes as many as seven) 
fall so violently in love with the same maiden that no 
one will give way to another. The young men usually 
perform an important service for the maid, often by means 
of highly skilled arts or professions, to the accomplish- 
ment of which each lover makes an indispensable contri- 
bution. However, the suitors may have claims resting 
on nobility or on general excellence and worth. The ques- 
tion naturally arises, " Who has earned the maid for his 
wife ? " There is a dispute, and very often a judge in 
some guise, perhaps the father of the girl, hears each 
lover state his case in turn. Sometimes the judge in his 
perplexity allows the maiden to choose for herself. In 
any case, the normal tale concludes with no lover chosen, 
and the problem still unsolved. The Contending Lovers 
is thus essentially a problem or hoax tale, and one of its 
rightful adjuncts is the lack of a definite decision among 
the lovers. 

The earliest recorded versions are four tales in the San- 
skrit Vetdlapanchavinsati (Twenty-five Tales of a De- 
mon), of which the Qivadasa recension was proba:bly made 
in the sixth century A. D.,^® and these undoubtedly repre- 
sent old Indian folk-tales which, so far as we know, are the 
originals of versions in many other collections of Oriental 

'"The tales in question are the second, fifth, sixth, and seventh 
of the collection. A text of the VetHlapanohavinaati has been con- 
stituted by Uhle, based largely on the Civadfisa redaction {Die 
Vet&lapancavinQatika, Leipzig, 1881). However, the tales are to 
be found translated directly from the Sanskrit only in scattered 
places. It is convenient to use the Hindi version of the work known 
as the Bait&l Pachisi, which is translated from the Sanskrit and has 
in turn been translated into English by W. Burckhardt Barker 
(Hertford, 1855) and into German by Hermann Oesterley (Leipzig, 
1873). See pp. 65 ff., 133 ff., 143 ff., and 157 ff. of Barker's trans- 

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tales.®® The hoax or problem characteristic is almost 
always emphasized by the frameworks into which the 
stories are fitted. In the Vetalapanchavinsati a Vetala 
or demon tells the tales to a rajah, and in each case he 
does not reveal which lover is rewarded with the hand 
of the maiden. His purpose is to dra'w the rajah into a 
discussion and to make him guess the proper decision. 
The chief types of The Contending Lovers are already 
well-defined in the Orient,*^ though after the tale has 
travelled westward many more subdivisions appear, owing 
to extensive adulteration from the folk-lore with which 
it comes in contact. But although our tale is now popular 
in most European countries and in other lands besides,'^ 

** 8ee the VetAla tales as they appear incorporated into the twelfth 
century Sanskrit compilation KathH-Sarit'Sdgara, tr. C. H. Tawneyj 
1884, n, pp. 242 ff. and i, pp. 498 ff.; for other Oriental versions, 
some of them quite different from those of the VetlUapcmchavinaati, 
see Vedala Cadd, tr. B. G. Babington, 1831 (Miscellaneous Trams- 
lations from Oriental Languages , Vol. i), tales 2, 4, and 5; B. 
Jfllg, KalmUckische Marchen, 1866, No. 1, pp. 5ff.; B. Jiilg, Mango- 
lische Mdrchen-Sammlungf 1868, pp. 238 ff.; Baron Lescailler, Le 
Trdne Enchants (the Persian Senguehassen^Battissi, which is re- 
lated to an old Sanskrit collection known as the Sinhdsana-dv&trin- 
sati) 1817, I, pp. 177 ff.) ; Tooti Nameh, or Tales of a Parrot (the 
Persian Tati NUma), tr. for J. Debrett, 1801, pp. 49 ff., 113 ff., 
and 122 ff.; W. A. Clouston, The Booh of Bindibad (the Persian 
Sindihad Ndma), 1884, pp. 106 ff.; Galland, Les Mills et Une Nuits, 
1881, X, pp. 1 ff. 

"Each of the four tales in the Vetala collection represents a dis- 
tinct type. 

"A cursory glance over titles cited will give some idea of how 
widespread it is. I have been able to gather some more or less 
out-of-the-way versions which have not hitherto been cited. It is an 
interesting fact that The Contending Lovers is a favorite in Africa. 
See, for example, George W. Ellis, Negro Culture in West Africa, 
1914, pp. 211 ff. and 201 ff. See also R. E. Dennet, Folk-Lore of 
the Fjorty 1898, No. 3, pp. 33 ff. and No. 16, pp. 74 ff.; C. Velten, 
Mdrchen und Erzdhlungen der Suahedi, 1898, p. 71; Henri A. Junod, 
Les Chants et les Contes des Ba-Ronga de la BaAe de Delagoa, 1897, 
No. 27. 

Digitized by 


ohaucxb's fablbmsnt of foules 607 

and has taken on many new characteristics, it still remains 
above all a problem tale with an indecisive ending. When 
a decisive ending does apepar, it is plainly a corruption. 
Sometimes the problem is left with only an inferred invi- 
tation to the audience to solve it, but again the teller may 
put the question definitely.** 

Curiously enough, no emphasis has ever been laid on 
the very pronounced and important problem characteristic 
of The Contending Lovers. Neither Benf ey nor "Wfesselof- 
sky stresses this as a distinguishing feature, and The Con- 
tending Lovers has frequently been confused with other 
folk-tales which were never problem stories. It is true 
that among the many outside influences which show effects 
upon our tale, especially after it has reached Europe, are 
the tale of The Skilfvi Compcmions and tales of brothers 
who go out into the world to seek their fortunes, for in 
Europe the lovers are often skilled in arts or professions 
and often brothers. The relationships here are exceed- 
ingly complicated, but there is conclusive evidence that 
The Skilful Companifm is in origin quite distinct from 
The Contending Lovers, and that it was originally not 
a problem tale, but existed alone and unconnected with 
any tale of lovers.** 

"Straparola in a tale (/ piaoevoU NoUi, night vn, fable 5) closely 
taken from Mor linns (see HieronynU Morlvni, Parthenapei,' Novellae, 
Foihulae, Comoedia, 1856, No. i;xxx, pp. 156 ff.) has the following 
conclusion (tr. W. G. Waters, 1894, p. 73) : 

** But with regard to the lady, seeing it was not possible to divide 
her into three parts, there arose a sharp dispute between the broth- 
ers as to which one of them should retain her, and the wrangling 
over the point to decide who had the greatest claim to her was very 
long. Indeed, up to this present day it is still before the court: 
wherefore we shall each settle the cause as we think right, while 
the judge keeps us waiting for his decision." 

** Exhaustive proof would be too lengthy, but it may be suggested 
that from old times tales have existed about artisans or skilful 

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According to the services performed or to the basis of 
contention by the lovers for the maiden's hand, the ver- 
sions of The Contending Lovers divide into six clearly 
marked types. I indicate a scheme for classification.'^*^ 

The Caste Type.^^ No services are performed for the 
princess, but her lovers, who are four, present in turn 
before her father claims based on unapplied accomplish- 
ments, comeliness, and general excellence. The caste of 

brothers who go out into the world and contend with one another 
for fortune, but in which no girl is the reward. (See Benfey, Pant- 
aoTiatantra, 1859, n, pp. 150 ff., Der kluge Feind; material men- 
tioned by Wesaelofsky, II Parctdiso, i, ii, p. 246; Benfey, Kleinere 
Schriften, u, iii, pp. 132 ff., the second part of the Aualand essay.) 
It may be also suggested that in many ancient versions of The 
Contending Lovers and in some more modern versions the love 
service is dependent slightly or not at all upon skill or professions 
possessed by the lovers. Vet(llapanoh€uvin8afti 7 has a contention 
where emphasis is laid upon caste and general excellence, and 
where no service is performed by means of skilled accomplishments, 
though there is some mention of these. The second tale of the 
same collection tells of a girl who was restored to life by the 
faithful services of her suitors, who neither are artisans nor profess 
skill. In this connection it is well to note that exceedingly little 
skill and nothing of artisanship enters into the services performed 
by the young men in II Paradiso degli Alberti, 

"Of necessity I give here only a very brief description of types 
together with examples from among versions of the tale. I hope 
to follow this scheme in making a detailed study of The Contending 
Lovers aAd in carrying out closer comparisons with other folk- 
tales and with the Pa/rlement of FouXes than it is possible lo make 
in this paper. 

"This is represented in the Orient, but so far as I know does 
not exist as a separate type in Europe, although its influence is 
sometimes seen in other types. See Vetilapanchavinsati 7 {Baitdl 
PaoMsi, tr. Barker, pp. 175 flf.), where one lover can make a won- 
derful cloth, one understands the language of animals, one is ac- 
quainted with the Shastras, and one can discharge an arrow which 
will hit what is heard though not seen; also see Kathd-Sarit'SHgarOf 
tr. Tawney, n, pp. 275 flf. and i, pp. 498 flf., which are practically 
the same tale. 

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chaxtoee's paklbmen^t of foules 509 

the suitors is important when merit comes to be considered. 
Neither father nor daughter is able to choose the most 

The Resuscitation Type.^'' This type has three or four 
well-bom lovers, whose claims to the maid may vary. 
However, each youth must contribute some service toward 
the resuscitation of the loved one, who is often a princess, 
and who may be dead or mortally ill. The services may be 
skilled, or unskilled and fortuitous. 

The Gifts Type.^^ Three youths, usually princes, fall 

"See Vetdlapanchavinsti 2 (tr. V. Henry, Revue dea Traditiona 
Populaires, I, 1886, pp. 370 flf.) in which one lover renders love 
service by allowing himself to be burned upon the maid's pyre, one 
guards her ashes, and one travels and accidentally finds a magic 
formula which is the means of resuscitation; see also as repre- 
sentatives of the type Senguehassen-Battisaiy tale 10, part 3 (tr. 
Lescailler, Le Trdne EnchcmUy 1817, i, pp. 199 ff.); Rev. E. M. 
Geldart, Folk Lore of Modem Greece, 1884, pp. 106-25 (first tale 
told by the casket) ; Charles Swynnerton, Indian Nights' Eriter- 
tainment, 1892, i, p. 228; H. Parker, Village Folk-Tales of Ceylon, 
1910, No. 74, I, pp. 378 ff,; H. Parker, same work. No. 82, n, pp. 39-9 
(variant A) ; H. Parker, same work, No. 82, n, pp. 42-3 (variant 
C) ; P. Macler, Revue dea Traditions Populairea, xxm (1908), No. 
1, pp. 327 ff.; R. E. Dennett, Folk-Lore of the Fjort, 1898, No. 3, 
pp. 33-4. 

"The Oriental prototype is represented by the first part of the 
tale of Prince Ahmed and the Fay Pari-Banou in the Arabic 
Thouaand and One Nighta (Galland, ed. 1881, x, pp. 1 ff.), in which 
one lover buys a magic flying carpet, one a telescope, and one a 
magic apple, one smell of which cures a person on the point of 
death. The youths are thus enabled to see the princess mortally 
ill, to reach her, and to cure her. The versions are very numerous, 
but show surprisingly little variation. See Gherardo Nerucci, Sea- 
aanta Novelle Popolari Montaleai, 1880, No. 40, pp. 335 ff.; Chris- 
tian Schneller, Mdrchen und Bagen OAia Walachtirol, 1867, No. 14; 
J. G. von Hahn, Oriechiache und Albaneaiache Mdrchen, 1864, No. 47, 
I, pp. 263 ff. ; Rev. W. Henry Jones and Lewis Kropf, The Folk-Talea 
of the Magyara, 1889, pp. 155 ff.; Madam Csedomille Mijatovics, 
ed. Rev. W. Denton, Serbian Folk-Lore, 1874, pp. 230 ff.; John T. 

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in love with one maid and are sent out into the world 
to get wonderful gifts in competition for