Harvard studies and notes in philology and literature

STUDIES AND NOTES

PHILOLOGY AND LITERATURE

VOL. V

CHILD MEMORIAL VOLUME

PUBLISHED UNDER THE DIRECTION OF THE

MODERN LANGUAGE DEPARTMENTS OF HARVARD UNIVERSITY
BY GINN & COMPANY, TREMONT PLACE, BOSTON

*

v.5

Issued 1897

IN June, 1896, Professor Child completed
his fiftieth year of service as a teacher in
Harvard University. On the eleventh of the
following September he died. This volume,
consisting of papers by his pupils and col-
leagues, was planned as a greeting, but has
become a memorial. The original dedication,
however, has not been cancelled.

FRANCISCO IACOBO CHILD

1AM QUINQUAGINTA ANNOS UNIVERSITATIS ALUMNO S. P.

Non bellatorum solummodo fama volucris

Per terras clara nomina voce sonat
Non conflatur eis tantum aes nee marmora surgunt

Quis generi humano noxia facta mala
Paciferis factis etiam crescit sua laurus

Atque ea laudantur qualiacunque iuvant
Sic te discipuli nostro sermone peritum

Nos merito summis laudibus efferimus
Nee minus ob mores lepidos debemus amorem

Quae coram far! mosque pudorque vetant
Hunc igitur tibi nunc librum dilecte dicamus

Quo celebretur honos significetur amor

CONTENTS.

PAGE

DEDICATION". J. B. GREENOUGH v

I., THE TEXT OF DONNE'S POEMS. — FRANCIS BEAUMONT'S

LETTER TO BEN JONSON. C. E. NORTON i

II. THE INFLUENCE OF EMERSON. A. S. HILL 23

; III. THE BALLAD AND COMMUNAL POETRY. F. B. GUMMERE 41

IV. COTTON MATHER AND AUGUST HERMANN FRANCKE.

KUNO FRANCKE 57

V. ON ANGLO-FRENCH AND MIDDLE ENGLISH AU FOR

FRENCH A BEFORE A NASAL. E. S. SHELDON . . 69

VI. THE FRENCH HISTORICAL INFINITIVE. P. B. MARCOU . 77
V VII. WHO WAS SIR THOMAS MALORY? G. L. KITTREDGE. . 85

VIII. ON THE DATE AND INTERPRETATION OF CHAUCER'S

COMPLAINT OF MARS. J. M. MANLY 107

THE MESSENGER IN ALISCANS. RAYMOND WEEKS . . 127

STUDIES ON CHAUCER'S HOUSE OF FAME : I. THE CON-
CLUSION OF THE POEM ; II. A FURTHER SOURCE
SUGGESTED. A. C. GARRETT . 151

XI. ON Two MANUSCRIPTS OF LYDGATE'S GUY OF WAR-
WICK. (With two facsimiles?) F. N. ROBINSON . . 177

XII. THE LAY OF GUINGAMOR. W. H. SCHOFIELD . . . . 221

XIII. THE GERMAN HAMLET AND THE EARLIER ENGLISH

VERSIONS. JOHN CORBIN 245

XIV. NOTES ON THE ANGLO-SAXON RIDDLES. J. A. WALZ . . 261

XV. VERBAL NOUNS IN -INDE IN MIDDLE ENGLISH AND

THE PARTICIPIAL -ING SUFFIX. W. P. FEW . . . 269

XVI. THE AUTHORSHIP AND DATE OF THE INSATIATE COUN-
TESS. R. A. SMALL 277

THE TEXT OF DONNE'S POEMS.

THE text of Donne's Poems, from the time of their first
publication, has been in an unsatisfactory state. The chief
reason of this is that very few of his poems were printed during
his lifetime,1 and that the first collection of them, published in 1633,
two years after his death, seems to have been an unwarranted
publisher's job, which had no proper editing either in respect to
arrangement of the pieces or accuracy of the text. The next edition
appeared in 1635. This also was unauthorized ; it had the same
publisher, but it received some editorial care ; it contained a con-
siderable number of poems not previously published; the arrangement
of the poems was more orderly, some plain errors in their text were
corrected, and various improved readings were introduced. A fine
and interesting portrait of Donne, at the age of 18, engraved by-
Marshall, was prefixed to it, with verses below by Izaak Walton,
from which it may be inferred that the volume was not issued with-

1 The most important of the few poems published by Donne himself or during
his life were the two Anniversaries commemorating Mistress Elizabeth Drury,
respectively, An Anatomy of the World and On the Progress of the Soul. The
first of these was printed in 161 1, and of the edition only two copies are known to
exist. In 1612 the two appeared together. They were reprinted in 1621 and in
1625. Copies of all the editions are very rare. Donne's Elegy on Prince Henry
was printed in 1613, the year after the prince's death, with elegies by other writers,
in a volume entitled Lachrymae Lachrymarum, or The Spirit of Tears distilled
from the untimely Death of the Incomparable Prince Panaretus. By Joshua
Sylvester. " Sylvester's poem," says Mr. Chambers in his edition (1896) of Donne's
Poems, " is followed by a separate title-page, Sundry Funeral Elegies . . . Com-
posed by several Authors ; and this by an address, signed H[umphrey] L[ownes],
R.S.; 'To the Several Authors of these surrepted Elegies,' which severs as an
apology for the unauthorized publication. " Two other poems of Donne, mere
trifles, appeared while he was living; they were a set of verses in Latin to Ben
Jonson, prefixed to the first edition of The Fox, in 1607, and his satirically pane-
gyric verses Ufon Mr. Thomas Coryafs Crudities, which were among the best of
the multitude of verses of similar purport prefixed to Coryat's book when it was
published in 1611.

2 C. £. Norton.

out interest being taken in it by one of the closest of Donne's friends.
But the text in general leaves much to be desired, and it is plain that
no careful revision was given to it.

In 1637 the son of Donne, Dr. John Donne the second, sought
and secured from the Archbishop of Canterbury an injunction against
the further unauthorized publication of the poems and other works
of Donne ; * but the injunction seems to have had no effect, for the
editions of the poems which followed in 1639 and 1649 are practically
mere reissues of that of 1635. But on the publication of the edition
of 1649, John Donne the younger seems to have interfered, and in
the next year, the volume was issued with a new titlepage, which
announced the addition of "divers Copies, under his own hand, never
before in print."2 Following the titlepage was an Epistle Dedicatory
to the Right Hon. William Lord Craven, by the younger Donne, and
after page 368, were the " divers Copies " consisting of a number of
pieces in prose and verse of little importance, which occupy twenty-
three pages. In 1654 there was a reissue of this volume. In 1669
an edition appeared, which contained a few additional poems, but
which is chiefly distinguished from the preceding editions by many
variations of the text, some of them undoubted improvements, but
others by no means so.

The text in all of these seventeenth-century editions is often
plainly corrupt, and betrays, in its confused and bewildering punc-
tuation, the carelessness of transcribers and of printers. From one
or the other of these editions all subsequent editions of Donne's
Poems were printed, with little attempt at correction of their numer-
ous errors, down to that of Dr. Grosart, in 1873, in two volumes,
in the Fuller Worthies' Library. In his preface Dr. Grosart states
that he has collated all previous editions " with prolonged careful-
ness," that he has utilized manuscripts public and private, and thus
has been enabled "to correct the swarming errors and bewilderment

1 The request of the younger Donne and the injunction issued by the Arch-
bishop are in the Record Office, London, and were first printed by Dr. Grosart,
in his edition of Donne's Poems, in 1873, vol. II, p. lii.

2 Mr. Chambers, in his Bibliographical Note in the first volume of his edition,
fails to distinguish the editions of 1649 anc^ 1650.

The Text of Donne's Poems. 3

of previous editions." Unfortunately his judgment and his accuracy
were not equal to his industry; and his edition, while containing much
that is of value as affording means for ascertaining the correct read-
ings of doubtful passages, does not itself provide a satisfactory text.
It is, in truth, disfigured by pedantry in following the spelling of
ill-written manuscripts, and by blunders proceeding from carelessness
and from lack of intelligence.1

1 These words are so severe as to demand justification. The manuscript on
which Dr. Grosart mainly relied is one which he called, from the name of a former
possessor, the Stephens MS. It is now in my hands. In printing from it Dr.
Grosart professes to reproduce it with literal accuracy, except where he adopts
readings from other sources, as stated in notes to the several poems. The only
value of this literal adherence to the manuscript would be in its exact repro-
duction of the spelling of the early seventeenth century, even in its vagaries ;
but of the poems in which I have compared Dr. Grosart's text with that of
the manuscript, I have not found one reproduced with exactness. For example,
in the fifty-six verses of the beautiful poem in which Donne protests against his
mistress, disguised as a page, accompanying him on his travels, printed by
Grosart as " Elegy I," there are twenty-three divergencies in the spelling ; in the
twenty-six verses of Elegy XI there are seven ; in the seventeen verses of Woman's
Constancy there are seven. These are instances taken at random. Most of the
differences are of slight individual importance, but their number is such as to
deprive Dr. Grosart's text of authority as to spelling.

In regard to lack of poetic appreciation and intelligence one or two instances
may suffice. The fine well-known poem, The Storm, addressed to the author's
friend Christopher Brooke, begins with the characteristic verses :

Thou which art I, — 't is nothing to be so ;

Thou which art still thyself, by this shalt know, etc.,

the first of which Dr. Grosart prints in the following amusing manner :

Thou which art ! ('t is nothinge to be soe).
In Elegy XIX, verse 34 reads, properly,

As souls unbodied, bodies uncloth'd must be.
Dr. Grosart prints it :

As fowles unbodyed bpydes uncloth'd must bee.
In Satire II, speaking of poetry, Donne says with characteristic humor,

Though like the pestilence, or old-fashion'd love,
It riddlingly catch men, and doth remove
Never till it be starv'd out ;

4 C. E. Norton.

No further attempt was made to improve the text until in 1893 the
Grolier Club of New York undertook to print the Poems, according to
the text of the edition of 1633, with the addition of some poems which
appeared in later editions, the whole revised in respect to punctuation
by the late James Russell Lowell. In order to give further value to
this issue, a collation of all the editions of the seventeenth century
was made, and the various readings were given in footnotes. Some
illustrative notes were added. This edition, which was under my
charge, was issued to the members of the Club in the autumn of
1895. It consisted of three hundred and eighty-three copies, in two
volumes in small octavo.

Almost at precisely the same moment appeared an edition, also in
two volumes, published in the series of The Muses' Library and
edited by Mr. E. K. Chambers. " The bulk of the text," says Mr.
Chambers in his Preface, " is based upon the principal seventeenth-
century editions. No one of these is of supreme authority, and
therefore I have had no choice but to be eclectic. But at the same
time I have endeavored to give all variants, other than obvious
misprints, in the footnotes. Here and there one or other of the
innumerable manuscript copies has been of service. I have modern-
ized the spelling, and corrected the exceptionally chaotic punctuation
of the old editions. And so, though much remains obscure, I trust
that I have provided a more intelligible version of the Poems than
any that has yet appeared." There is no question that this is the
case. Mr. Chambers has done his work with excellent judgment,
and with uncommon carefulness. So far as the text is concerned,
he has left little for future editors to do. He has illustrated the
poems with valuable notes, explaining many allusions, and containing
much information in regard to the persons to whom the Verse Letters
and other pieces are addressed. And so, though, as he says, much

Dr. Grosart adopts the senseless reading of his favorite manuscript :

Though like the Pestilens or old-fashioned loues
It rydes killingely, catcheth men, & remove
Neuer till it bee staru'd out.

In these two and a half verses are five variations from the orthography of the
manuscript ; the manuscript reads : Pestilence, old-fash ion* d, never, be, starv'd.

The Text of Donne's Poems. 5

remains obscure, his edition is not only the best that exists, but
requires little more than some additional annotations to be altogether
satisfactory and final.1

Few of Donne's poems, as I have stated, were printed in his life-
time. He himself in his later years seems to have been indifferent to
their fate. The strange vicissitude of his fortunes, his transformation
from the student of law, the gay, venturous youth, the loose lover, the
hanger-on of a dissolute court, to the omnivorous scholar, the doctor
of divinity, the devout preacher, the high dignitary of the Church,
the melancholy man, turned him from the writing of satires, epistles,
lyrics of love, and paradoxes, to the composition of learned treatises
and elaborate sermons, and the occasional writing of devout poems.
He was past forty years old when he took orders, and became the
most famous preacher of his time ; and it is easy to believe Walton's
statement that " in his penitential years, viewing some of those pieces
that had been loosely — God knows too loosely — scattered in his
youth, he wished they had been abortive, or so short-lived that his
own eyes had witnessed their funerals." It is true that after he had
resolved to enter the Church, but before he had taken orders, he
proposed to print his poems, " not for much public view," he said in
a letter written in December, 1614, to his friend Sir Henry Goodyere,
"but at mine own cost, a few copies." "I know" he adds, "what
I shall suffer from many interpretations, but I am at an end of much
considering that. ... By this occasion I am made a Rhapsoder of mine
own rags, and that cost me more diligence to seek them, than it did to
make them. This made me ask to borrow that old book of you ; "
(doubtless one of the numerous manuscript collections of his poems)
... " for I must do this, as a valediction to the world, before I take
Orders."2 Probably the intention fell through, for there is no knowledge
of any such printed collection. But, though not printed during Donne's

1 In a few instances Mr. Chambers' reading of the text seems to me erroneous,
and a few mistakes have crept into his notes, but these will doubtless disappear
under his revision in later issues. The index is unfortunately completely wrong
in its reference to pages, as if made before the final paging of the volumes.

2 Letters to Severall Persons of Honour : written by John Donne, Sometime
Deane of St. Paul's, London. Published by John Donne Dr. of the Civill Law.
London, 1651, p. 196.

6 C. E. Norton.

lifetime, the poems had a wide circulation in manuscript. The manly
tone, the serious feeling, the shrewd observation, the picturesqueness
and the wit of his satires, made them popular, in spite of the harsh-
ness of their versification. His love lyrics had such a combination
of rapturous passion with delicate sentiment ; of sensualism with
spirituality ; of simplicity with mysticism ; of vivid imagination in
conception and expression with lively wit and charming fancy, as to
set them above all others of their kind. No other verse-writer of the
time surpassed Donne in occasional exquisiteness of verse in which
substance and form mingled in perfect poetry. It was no wonder
that there was a demand for these poems, and that copies of them
were so multiplied that Mr. Chambers can speak of the existing man-
uscripts as ' innumerable '; and no wonder that, in the repeated proc-
ess of copying, many variations and many errors crept into the text.

Of these innumerable manuscripts three are now in my hands. The
study of them affords some results of more interest in regard to the gen-
eral character of manuscript evidence, than as helping to determine the
true text of passages which in the printed editions appear perplexed
and difficult. They give a few readings which make dark verses
clear, but on the whole they shed little light where it is most needed.

The first of these manuscripts is that which Dr. Grosart used as
the main basis of his edition, and of which he says : "I attach very
great weight to a manuscript now in the possession of F. W. Cosens,
Esq., London. It has the book plate of 'Thomas Stephens, of the
Inner Temple, Esq.,'1 and is dated igth July, 1620. It is a singularly
rich collection. The prose ' Paradoxes ' (showing interesting varia-
tions) form the first portion, and exclusive of Donne's — which are
nearly complete and with additions — there are poems by Carew,
Daniel, King, and others. The utmost ' pains ' had evidently been
taken by the writer of this precious (quarto) MS. At times he
leaves a blank, where he could not make out the word or words, and
these are afterwards carefully filled in. Whoever he was — of
Stephens I can gather nothing — he must have been intimate with
Donne himself" (vol. I, p. 3). Again in his second volume Dr.

1 This book plate is plainly of much later date than the manuscript, and of much
earlier than the binding.

The Text of Donne's Poems. 7

Grosart says, repeating himself, but with an important modification,
" We attach great value to the Stephens MS., notwithstanding sin-
gular oversights of the copyist, who seems to have 'nodded'' over
his task" (vol. II, p. Iv).

That the value set upon this manuscript by Dr. Grosart was extrav-
agant, and of the nature of a delusion, is made manifest by his own
edition, in which a poor reading from the manuscript is often pre-
ferred to the better reading of one or other of the printed texts,
while in other cases the reading of the printed texts is substituted
for that of the manuscript. Mr. Chambers, who apparently had no
acquaintance with the manuscript but that which was derived from
Dr. Grosart's use of it, is quite justified in qualifying it as "a bad
manuscript."1 Dr. Grosart's description of it is, moreover, consider-
ing his use of it, unaccountably inaccurate. His statement that the
volume contains poems " by Carew, Daniel, King, and others " has
no foundation whatever. There is not a single poem in it by either
of the poets named.2

The manuscript consists of 343 pages. The first seventy pages,
excepting pp. 40 to 46 inclusive, which are blank, are occupied by
Donne's Paradoxes, which were first published in 1652 ; pp. 71 to 78
are blank; pp. 79 to 119 contain Donne's Satires, with the omission
of the one beginning, " Men write that Love and Reason disagree";
pp. 120 to 126 are blank; pp. 127 to 192 contain the group of poems
called Elegies in the editions of Donne, together with some of the
Verse Letters ; they are headed in order Elegia prima to Elegia vicesima
septima ; a leaf between pp. 190 and 191 is missing; pp. 193 to 200
are blank; pp. 201 to 343 contain a miscellany of Lyrics, Letters,
Funeral Elegies, and Sacred Poems ; p. 270 is blank.

1 In his edition of Donne's Poems, II, 307.

3 The manuscript is now bound in ordinaty half morocco, and the style of the
binding is that of about the middle of this century. The lettering on the back
probably affords the origin of Dr. Grosart's misstatement of the contents. It is
"Donne, Carew, Daniel &c.," and in a lower panel, "Stephens M.S., 1620." It
seems unlikely that the binding is of later date than Dr. Grosart's statement, and
that the lettering followed his assertion. But however his error arose, it is certainly
surprising, in view of his familiarity with the contents of the volume. It is a strik-
ing and sufficient illustration of an inaccuracy of statement so frequent in his work
as editor, not of Donne alone, that it may be called habitual.

8 C. E. Norton.

The volume contains fifteen poems which are not found in the
early editions of Donne. Not one of them is of much worth ; two of
them are ascribed upon good authority to Sir John Roe ; one is
Francis Beaumont's Elegy on the La^y Markham, a poem hardly to
be surpassed for the offensiveness of its conceits; the remaining
twelve, of uncertain authorship, are printed by Dr. Grosart as
Donne's. Mr. Chambers in his edition prints nine of them in his
Appendix A, but gives his opinion that only three "can with any
reasonable assurance be attributed to Donne."

The handwriting of the manuscript is fairly uniform and distinct,
but it is old-fashioned even for the time when it was written, which
is fixed by a date at the end, — " igth July, 1620. "!

The copying was carelessly and unintelligently done ; there are
mistakes on almost every page, some of them obviously due to the
obscurity of the manuscript from which the copy was making, but
more to the mere inattention of the writer, and his indifference as to
whether what he wrote made sense or not. For instance in the
Satire addressed to Sir Nicolas Smyth, Donne wrote :

Turtle and Damon

Should give thee place in songs, and lovers sick
Should make thee only Love's hieroglyph ;
Thy impress should be th' loving elm and vine,
Where now an ancient oak with ivy twine, (vv. 82-86.)

The copyist gives the verses as follows :

Turtle and Pamon

Should give thee place in lungs and livers sick,
Should only make thee Love's hieroglyph.
The Empress should be thy loving elm and vine
Where none can ancient oaks with ivy twine.

The opening stanza of that exquisite poem The Ecstasy runs .
follows :

1 The scribe has left indications of the rate at which he copied by entering t
day of the week, here and there, upon the margin. Thus on p. 133 is Afond., or
152 Tuesd., on p. 179 IVend., on p. 206 Thr., and again on p. 265 Thrsday.
the full pages seldom consist of more than twenty lines the rate was not rapid.

The Text of Donne's Poems. 9

Where like a pillow on a bed,

A pregnant bank swell'd up, to rest
The violet's reclining head,

Sat we two, one another's best.

This is amusingly metamorphosed in the manuscript :

Where like a pillow on a bed

A pregnant bank sweld up to rest
The violet's declining head

Sat we two on another's breast.

Again, the beautiful Valediction to his Book begins :

I '11 tell thee now, dear Love, what thou shah do
To anger Destiny, as she doth us,
How I shall stay though she eloin me thus,

And how posterity shall know it too.

The last two lines are thus given by the transcriber :

How I shall stay though she purloin me thus,
And how prosperity shall know it too.

When in his Litany Donne prays :

That music of Thy promises,
Not threats in thunder may
Awaken us to our just offices,

the scribe makes him ask :

That music of Thy promises
Not theater in thunder may
Awaken us.

Such gross absurdities as these, of which there are many, are but
the file-leaders of innumerable carelessnesses and inaccuracies, —
words omitted or misplaced to the ruin of the rhythm, others changed,
the spelling arbitrary, and the punctuation chaotic. The variations
in the spelling are of some interest as illustrating the general laxity
in this regard of the writers of the time. Thus in one verse sold is
thus spelled, while in the next it is spelled sould; so nails and nayles;
' otirtyers and courtiers, in the same line. Final ie and y are constantly
interchanged, as Charitie and Liberty in the same verse, Honestie and

io C. E. Norton.

Integrity as rhymes ; consonants are doubled or not, as witt and wit,
meritt and merit in successive verses ; y and / are indifferently
employed, as busynes and busines, pittie and pyteous, cytty and cittie,
sinne and synn, playes and/Az/V-r; the final e is common, but is often
wanting, so thinge and thing, newse and news, now and nowe. The
spelling of some words gives the old pronunciation, which still occa-
sionally lingers in New England, as marchant, byles for boils, venter
for venture ; chaunge, daunger, sowle; hardiox heard. Heart is spelled
hart; could, should, and would are generally spelled cold, shold, and
wold ; but hold is spelled hould ; bold, bould ; told, tould, and cohi,
could.

The second manuscript in my possession consists of fifty leaves,
foolscap, in a limp vellum cover. It has no indication of former
ownership, save that from a titlepage of a sale catalogue laid in it, it
seems to have been in the collection of J. Carnaby, Esq., which was
sold in London by Puttick & Simpson in November, 1886. For con-
venience' sake, I will designate it as the Carnaby manuscript, or
Manuscript C. The first two pages and the last page are blank ;
the rest are occupied exclusively with poems by Donne or ascribed
to him. There is no order in their sequence ; Elegy, Satire, Letter,
and Lyric follow one another promiscuously. Of the poems attributed
to Donne not found in the early editions, there are seven ; of which
four are also found in MS. S ; the fifth and sixth are brief epigrams,
the seventh, which has no title in the manuscript, is Francis Beau-
mont's Elegy on the Death of the Countess of Rutland^ The MS.
contains in all 73 poems, counting the Epigrams as one, against 101
contained in MS. S, counting the series of Sonnets in La Corona
as one.

The handwriting of this MS. C is less archaic than that of MS. S ;
it is more cursive, and is in general easily legible ; but the scribe
was no more careful than the writer of S, and does not show a
higher degree of intelligence. His mistakes are numerous, and some

1 Three of these poems common to both manuscripts are those already referred
to, which, in the opinion of Mr. Chambers, are probably ascribed correctly to
Donne. They are entitled Absence, Love's War, Love and Wit, and may be found
respectively in his edition, vol. II, pp. 249, 250, 272. Love's War is the only one
about which there seems to me no room for question as to the authorship.

The Text of Donne's Poems. 1 1

of them are amusing. For instance, in Loves War Donne wrote, if
it be his :

Near thrusts, stabs, pikes, yea bullets hurt not here,

which the transcriber gives :

Near thrusts, stabs, pickles, yea bullets hurt not here.

In his Second Satire, where Donne says that

They who write because all write, have still
That cause for writing, and for writing ill,

he is made to say that they have " that sauce for writing." And
again in the same Satire where he speaks of puppets, the copyist
makes him say :

As in some organs puppies dance above
And bellows pant below which do them move.

It would be easy to fill pages with like nonsense. On one page
affidanus stands for affidavits; on the next the sense of a verse is
ruined by changing shameless into themselves ; on the next by spied
for spread; on the next by lowness for loneness ; on the next by lide
for like ; and so on from page to page. The spelling is, perhaps,
somewhat more uniform than that of MS. S, but it has the same
general characteristics. Could, should, and would are, however, almost
invariably so written; but hold is spelled hould '; control, contra uk ;
bold, bould ; virtue is invariably spelled vertue, but value is written
valew, and jointures, jointers ; hearts are hearts and hartes in the
same stanza. I have noted a few spellings which like vertue show
French influence, such as maister (master, S), envenim (envenom, S),
honnesty (honesty, S), forraine (foraigue, S), monney (money, S).

My third manuscript is in all respects the best. In handwriting,
in uniformity of spelling, in the number of the poems included in it,
127 in all, counting Epigrams and La Corona each as one, it is far
superior to MSS. S and C. It bears no indication of its former
ownership ; and Mr. Quaritch, from whom I obtained it, as well as
the others, was unable to tell me from what source it had come to his
hands. I designate it, for convenience' sake, as MS. N. It is a
folio, of 135 leaves, and is in its apparently original binding of full
sheep. The pages were slightly trimmed by the binder, so that in a

12 C. E. Norton.

few instances a part of a word in the margin has been cut off. The
writing is remarkably uniform, handsome, and legible. The scribe,
though more intelligent, was not much more careful in doing his work
than the writers of MSS. S and C. He committed many errors, a
few of which have been corrected by another hand of the seventeenth
century. There are some omissions which indicate that the text
which the copyist had before him was either imperfect or illegible.
The volume begins with four of the Satires, after which the other
poems follow in no regular order, but there is a partial grouping of
the various divisions of Elegies, Verse Letters, Lyrics, and Sacred
Poems. In addition to the Poems the volume contains Donne's
Paradoxes, which occupy pp. 243-270.

All the poems printed in the first edition, 1633, are ^n tn^s manu-
script, with the exception of the two Anniversaries commemorating
Mistress Elizabeth Drury, the reason for the omission of which was
undoubtedly that they existed in print in more than one edition, and
with the further exception of five minor poems and one or two of
the Epigrams. But in addition to the poems in the first edition, it
includes five of Donne's poems which were first printed in 1635, two
not printed till 1669, two first printed in this century, and classed
by Mr. Chambers among the 'doubtful poems.' It contains also,
An Elegy upon the Death of the Lord Effingham, properly ascribed to
Bishop Corbet ; and, without ascription of authorship, but as if
belonging to Donne, two poems by Beaumont, his Ad Comitissam
Rutlandia? and his well-known Letter to Ben Jonson, and both of
these with many marked improvements on the commonly printed
text. The manuscript has, further, two poems of uncertain author-
ship, and, so far as I know, hitherto unprinted, one a brief Epitaph
of eight verses, and one a long poem without title in forty-eight
stanzas, each of six verses, and each accompanied by a prose com-

1 This poem appeared, signed Fr. Beau., in a volume which was published in
1618, and again in 1620, entitled Certain Elegies done by Sundrie Excellent Wits,
etc. i2mo. The date of this publication affords a slight ground for inference
that MS. N was written before 1618, since, after the poem had appeared as Beau-
mont's, it was less likely to be ascribed to Donne than when, like Donne's poems,
it was only to be found in manuscript. The date of its writing is uncertain, but
the Countess of Rutland (Sir Philip Sidney's only child) died in 1612.

The Text of Donnas Poems. 13

ment. Its subject is woman and her attributes, and it begins :
" Each woman is a brief of womankind." It is a mere dull, laborious,
and prosaic composition, and certainly not to be attributed to Donne.

Though the gross blunders in this manuscript are comparatively
few, there are many mistakes in it, most of them of the common
kind, such as the putting of a word in a wrong place, the transposi-
tion of a letter, and the like. The spelling is generally good, but
shows the lack of uniformity common at the time, and exhibits of
course the usual differences from modern spelling. The punctuation
is often wanting, or so wrong as to confuse the sense. The meaning
of the text was sometimes dark to the copyist.

The comparison of these three manuscripts with the printed text
of Mr. Chambers' excellent edition affords but few emendations of
importance ; minor variations, which do not affect the sense, are
innumerable, and not worth noting. Taking the poems in the order
in which Mr. Chambers gives them, the following variants seem
deserving of attention as affording, in some cases at least, an im-
provement of the text. The letters annexed to them indicate in
which manuscript they occur.

Vol. I, p. 3. THE GOOD-MORROW.

Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown, (v. 13.)
Let maps to others worlds on worlds have shown. (N.)

Vol. I, p. 23. BREAK OF DAY.

And that I loved my heart and honor so,

That I would not from him, that had them, go. (vv. 1 1 , 12.)

And that I love my heart, and love it so

That I would not from him which hath it go. (N.)

Vol. I, p. 24. THE ANNIVERSARY.

And then we shall be throughly blest ;

But now no more than all the rest. (vv. 21, 22.)

But we no more than all the rest. (N, S, C.)

Vol. I, p. 31. A VALEDICTION TO HIS BOOK.
Should again the ravenous

Vandals and the Goths invade us. (vv. 24, 25.)
Vandals and Goths inundate us. (N, C.)

14 C. £. Norton.

Vol. I, p. 31.

And how prerogative these states devours
Transferr'd from Love himself, to womankind.
And how prerogative those rights devours (N.)

Vol. I, p. 39. A VALEDICTION OK WEEPING.

When a tear falls, that thou fall'st which it bore. (v. 8.)
When a tear falls, that thou/a//j which it bore. (N, S.)

Vol. I, p. 53. THE ECSTACY.

On man heaven's influence works not so
, But that it first imprints the air ;
For soul into the soul may flow

Though it to body first repair, (vv. 57-60.)
So soul into the soul may flow (N, S.)

Vol. 1, p. 75. THE PARADOX.

Such life is like the light which bideth yet
When the life's light is set. (w. 13, 14.)
When the light's life is set. (S.)

Vol. I, p. 78. A LECTURE UPON THE SHADOW.
Love is a growing, or full constant light,
And his short minute, after noon, is night, (vv. 25, 26.)
And his first minute after noon is night. (N, S.)

Vol. I, p. 79. A DIALOGUE.

So her disdains can ne'er offend,

Unless self-love take private end. (vv. 17, 18.)

So can her rigor ne'er offend,

Except self-love seek private end. (C.)

Vol. I, p. 104. ELEGY II.

And though her harsh hair fall, her skin is tough, (v. 6.)
And though her harsh hair fall, her chin is rough. (S.)

Vol. 1, p. 116. ELEGY VIII.

— So devoutly nice

Are priests in handling reverent sacrifice,
And nice in searching wounds the surgeon is,
As we, when we embrace, or touch, or kiss. (vv. 49-52.)

The Text of Donne's Poems. 15

So devoutly nice

Are priests in handling reverend sacrifice, (N.)
And such in searching wounds the surgeon is (N, S, C.)

Vol. I, p. 117. ELEGY IX.

And here till hers, which must be his death, come. (v. 17.)
And here till her, which must be his death, come. (N.)

Vol. I, p. 122. ELEGY XI.

Or let me creep to some dread conjurer,

That with fantastic scenes fills full much paper, (vv. 59, 60.)

That with fantastic schemes fills full much paper. (S, C.)

Vol. I, p. 149. ELEGY XX.

Gems which you women use
Are like Atlanta's ball cast in men's views ;
That, when a fool's eye lighteth on a gem,
His earthly soul might court that, not them. (vv. 35-38.)

His earthly soul might covet that, not them. (N, S, C.)

Themselves are only mystic books, which we
— Whom their imputed grace will dignify —
Must see reveal'd. (vv. 41-43.)

Themselves are mystic books, which only we (N, C.)

Vol. I, p. 154. CRUCIFYING.

Measuring self-life's infinity to span,
Nay to an inch. (vv. 8, 9.)

Measuring self-life's infinity to a span (N, S.)

Vol. I, p. 155. THE RESURRECTION.

May then sin's sleep and death soon from me pass
That waked from both. (vv. 12, 13.)

May then sin's sleep and death's soon from me pass (N.)

Vol. I, p. 165. HOLY SONNETS, XIII.

This beauteous form assumes a piteous mind. (v. 1 4.)
This beauteous form assures a piteous mind. (N.)

1 6 C. E. Norton.

Vol. I, p. 169. THE CROSS.

Then doth the cross of Christ work faithfully, (v. 61.)
Then doth the cross of Christ vusrV. fruitfully. (N, S.)

Vol. I, p. 172. GOOD FRIDAY.

Could I behold those hands, which span the poles,
And tune all spheres at once. (vv. 21, 22.)

And turne all spheres. (N, S, C.)

Vol. I, p. 175. A LITANY.

As you distinguish'd, undistinct,

By power, love, knowledge be,
Give me a such self different instinct,
Of these let all me elemented be,
Of power, to love, to know you unnumbered three, (w. 32-36.)

Give me such a self-different instinct

Of Thee j let all me elemented be

Of power to love, to know you unnumbered three. (N, S.)

Vol. I, p. 198. THE LAMENTATIONS OF JEREMY.

Of all which here I mourn, none comforts me. (v. 81.)
Of all which hear me mourn none comforts me. (N.)

Vol. I, p. 205.

In a dungeon
They Ve shut my life and cast me on a stone, (vv. 251, 252.)

In a dungeon
They Ve shut my life and cast on me a stone. (N.)

Vol. II, p. 1 6. To THE COUNTESS OF BEDFORD.

For rocks which high to sense deep-rooted stick, (v. 19.)
For rocks which high-topp'd and deep-rooted stick. (N.)

Vol. II, p. 42. To SIR HENRY WOTTON.

Nor shall I then honour your fortune, more

Than I have done your honour, wanting it. (vv. 23, 24.)

That I have done your noble wanting-it. (N.)

The Text of Donne s Poems. i

Vol. II, p. 46. To THE COUNTESS OF BEDFORD.
This, as an amber drop enwraps a bee,
Covering, discovers your quick soul, that we
May in your through-shine front our hearts' thoughts see.

(vv. 25-27.)
May in your through-shine front your heart's thoughts see. (N.)

Vol. II, p. 89. ELEGY ON MISTRESS BOULSTRED.

Th' earth's face is but thy table ; there are st t

Plants, cattle, men, dishes for death to eat. (vv. 5, 6.)

Th' earth's face is but thy table, and the meat (N.)

Vol. II, p. 178. SATIRE I.

And as fiddlers stop lowest, at highest sound,

So to the most brave stoops he nighest the ground, (vv. 77, 78.)

And as fiddlers stoop lowest at highest sound,

So to the bravest stoops he nighest ground. (C.)

Vol. II, p. 183. SATIRE II.

— but men, which choose
Law-practice for mere gain, bold soul(s) repute
Worse than embrothell'd strumpets, prostitute, (vv. 62-64.)
hold soul-repute ( N .)
hold sole repute (S.)
Vol. II, p. 196. SATIRE IV.

The courtiers — " in flocks are found
In the presence, and aye, — God pardon me —
As fresh and sweet their apparels be, as be
The fields they sold to buy them." (vv. 178-181.)

in flocks are found
In the presence, and /, (God pardon me) (N, C.)

p. 197.

Feathers and dust wherewith they fornicate, (v. 203.)
wherewith they formicate. (S.)

Vol. II, p. 209. SATIRE VII.

Too much preparing lost them all their lives ;

Like some in plagues kill with preservatives, (vv. 123, 124.)

Like some in plagues, £///Wwith preservatives. (N, S.)

1 8 C. E. Norton.

To these examples of the emendations offered by the three manu-
scripts, others of a similar kind might be added, together with a large
number of slight variations of reading by which the verse is bettered.
But, altogether, the result they afford is disappointing. On the most
obscure passages in the poems where some corruption of the text
seems possible, they throw no light. Yet, on the other hand, the
very multitude of the errors in which they all abound is satisfactory,
as establishing by contrast the general trustworthiness of the text as
we have it in the printed editions.

It is fortunate that there are no Shaksperian manuscripts like
these. The ' quartos,' indeed, in some respects take their place ;
but it would be a dreadful calamity were there such manuscripts for
the commentators to quarrel over.

On the whole the lover of poetry may accept Mr. Chambers' text
of Donne as substantially correct. There are some allusions, such
as that at the close of the Elegy on Prince Henry, which may never
be explained, some dark phrases, like " the infant of London, heir to
an India," which may not admit of elucidation, but these are not
very many. Most of the passages which appear obscure at first
reading are due to Donne's own tendency to subtlety of thought and
fondness for conceits, — they are, as Mr. Lowell said of them, " like
charades that first tease us, and then delight us with the felicity of
their solution."

The main perplexity in the reading of Donne arises, indeed, from
no difficulty of the text, but from uncertainty how far the poems are
the expression of genuine feeling, or dramatic utterances of feigned
emotion and fictitious sentiment. The poems on Mrs. Elizabeth
Drury in regard to which Donne admits that he said, not what he
was " sure was just truth, but the best that he could conceive," are
but illustrations of a practice common with him and many of the
poets of his time. Yet such was the vitality and vigor of his
poetic and imaginative spirit that these exercises of wit fall little
short, in power and passion, of verse inspired by actual spiritual
experience. Not a few of Donne's lyrics and elegies, as well as his
epithalamions are to be thus understood. But each student of his
poetry will be likely, in this respect, to form a different judgment in
regard to special poems, for Donne's nature was so complex and

The Text of Donne's Poems. 19

variable that with him a true emotion to-day might be a fictitious
one to-morrow.

Yet when all deductions are made, and when all the obscurities,
harshnesses, and wilfulnesses of his verse are admitted, the lover of
poetry will find himself in agreement with Ben Jonson in esteeming
" John Donne the first poet in the world in some things."

FRANCIS BEAUMONT'S LETTER TO BEN JONSON.

In the preceding paper I mentioned that MS. N of Donne's
Poems contained a transcript of two of the poems of Francis
Beaumont, his Ad Comitissam Rutlandiae and his Letter to Ben
Jonson, and both of them with improvements on the commonly
printed text. This is true especially of the latter, the more impor-
tant poem — a poem delightful and well known to all the lovers of
the poetry of the Elizabethan age. It seems, therefore, worth while
to publish the new readings afforded by the manuscript, and accord-
ingly, the text of the poem as given by Dyce in his edition of The
Works of Beaumont and Fletcher, vol. XI, p. 500, is here reprinted
in full, with the various readings from the manuscript in the margin.

MR. FRANCIS BEAUMONT'S LETTER TO BEN JONSON.

Written, before he and Master Fletcher came to London, with two of the precedent Comedies,
then not finished, which deferred their merry Meetings at the Mermaid.

The sun (which doth the greatest comfort bring

To absent friends, because the self-same thing

They know they see, however absent) is

Here our best hay-maker (forgive me this ;

It is our country's style) : in this warm shine country

I lie, and dream of your full Mermaid wine.

Oh, we have water mix'd with claret-lees,

Drink apt to bring in drier heresies

20

C. £. Norton.

Than beer, good only for the sonnet's strain,

With fustian metaphors to stuff the brain;

So mix'd, that, given to the thirstiest one,

'T will not prove alms, unless he have the stone:1

I think with one draught man's invention fades,

Two cups had quite spoil'd Homer's Iliads.

'Tis liquor that will find out Sutcliffe's wit,2

Lie where he will, and make him write worse yet:

Fill'd with such moisture, in most grievous qualms,

Did Robert Wisdom 8 write his singing psalms ;

And so must I do this : and yet I think

It is a potion sent us down to drink

By special Providence, keeps us from fights,

Makes us not laugh when we make legs to knights :

'Tis this that keeps our minds fit for our states,

A medicine to obey our magistrates ;

For we do live more free than you ; no hate,

No envy at one another's happy state,

Moves us; we are all equal every whit :

Of land that God gives men here, is their wit,

If we consider fully; for our best

And gravest man will with his main house-jest,

Scarce please you : we want subtilty to do

The city-tricks, lie, hate, and flatter too:

Here are none that can bear a painted show,

Strike when you wince, and then lament the blow;

a sonnet strain

quite marrd

where it will

in a grievous qualm

psalm

med'cine

of another's

a fainted show
winck

1 Here the manuscript inserts the two following verses:.

'Tis sold by Puritans, mixt with intent
To make it serve for either Sacrament.

2 Probably, as Dyce suggests, Dr. Matthew Sutcliffe, first Provost of King
James" College in Chelsea, of whom Fuller says (Church History, book x, lect.
iii, §§ 25-27), "Dr. Sutcliffe [was] a known rigid anti-remonstrant; and when
old, very morose and testy in his writings against them."

8 Robert Wisdom is said to have contributed the version of a single psalm
(Psalm xxv) to Hopkins' and Sternhold's Psalms, and the hymn

Preserve us, Lord, by thy dear word,
From Turk and Pope, preserve us, Lord.

" He died in 1 568. The quaintness of his name as well as the poverty of his
poetry caused him frequently to be ridiculed." Weber.

Beaumont 's Letter to Ben Jonson. 2 1

Who, like mills set the right way for to grind, right way to grind

Can make their gains alike with every wind :

Only some fellows, with the subtlest pate fellow

Amongst us, may perchance equivocate

At selling of a horse, and that's the most.

Methinks the little wit I had is lost

Since I saw you ; for wit is like a rest

Held up at tennis, which men do the best

With the best gamesters. What things have we seen

Done at the Mermaid ! heard words that have been

So nimble, and so full of subtle flame,

As if that every one from whence they came from whom

Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest,

And had resolv'd to live a fool the rest

Of his dull life; then when there hath been thrown has been

Wit able enough to justify the town

For three days past ; wit that might warrant be

For the whole city to talk foolishly

Till that were cancell'd ; and when that was gone, we were gone

We left an air behind US, which alone an air behind, which was alone

Was able to make the two next companies Able to make

(Right witty, though but downright fools) more wise. Right witty, though they

were downright cocknies

When 1 remember this, and see that now

The country gentlemen begin to allow

My wit for dry-bobs, then I needs must cry,

I see my days of ballating grow nigh ; are nigh

I can already riddle, and can sing

Catches, sell bargains, and I fear shall bring

Myself to speak the hardest words I find

Over as oft as any, with one wind, Over as fast

That takes no medicines. But one thought of thee

Makes me remember all these things to be

The wit of our young men, fellows that shew

No part of good, yet utter all they know; like trees and the guarf

Who, like trees of the gard,1 have growing souls, have growing souls

Only strong Destiny, which all controls, Only; strong Destiny

1 Dyce explains this 'gard' as equivalent to garden, a questionable interpreta-
tion. If the manuscript reading be right, it is a jest at some ' guard ' which had
no soul but the vegetative.

22

C. E. Norton.

I hope hath left a better fate in store

For me, thy friend, than to live ever poor,

Banish'd unto this home : Fate once again

Bring me to thee, who canst make smooth and plain

The way of knowledge for me, and then I,

Who have no good but in thy company,

Protest it will my greatest comfort be

To acknowledge all I have to flow from thee.

Ben, when these scenes are perfect, we '11 taste wine ;

I '11 drink thy Muse's health, thou shall quaff mine.

(The last two verses are omitted in the manuscript.)

evermore
; 't will once again
wilt make

no good in me but simplicity
Know that it will
all the rest to come

C. E. NORTON.

THE INFLUENCE OF EMERSON.

THOUGH more than fourteen years have elapsed since the
death of Emerson, it is hard to believe that his sunny smile
and his gracious presence have disappeared. Were they still with
us, they would reveal that which inspired his best thoughts, and
which still lives in its influence on American character and Ameri-
can civilization. " He seemed to be," wrote Carlyle,1 after their
first meeting in 1833, " one of the most lovable creatures in himself
we had ever looked on." Thirty years later he said: "I did not
then " (at their first meeting) " adequately recognize Emerson's
genius; but she [Mrs. Carlyle] and I thought him a beautiful trans-
parent soul, and he was always a very pleasant object to us in the
distance. Now and then a letter still comes from him, and amid the
smoke and mist of the world it is always as a window flung open to
the azure." 2 " It was good," says Hawthorne, " to meet him in the
wood-paths, or sometimes in our avenue, with that pure intellectual
gleam diffused about his presence like the garment of a shining one ;
and he so quiet, so simple, so without pretension, encountering each
man alive as if expecting to receive more than he could impart." *
Father Taylor, the well-known preacher at the Bethel in Boston,
when criticised by some of his fellow Methodists for making a
friend of Emerson, who must "surely go to hell," replied: "It does
look so ; but I am sure of one thing, if Emerson goes to hell he will
change the climate there, and emigration will set that way." *

Emerson's vocation as a teacher of men was fixed for him long
before he was born. More than fifty of his family, it is said, were
graduates of Harvard College, and more than twenty were ministers.
He was a Puritan through and through. " Every tributary," in the

1 Froude, II, 291.

2 M. D. Conway, Emerson at Home and Abroad, viii, p. 77.

9 Mosses from an Old Manse ; The Old Manse, Riverside edition, p. 42.
4 Conway, Emerson at Home and Abroad, vi, p. 66.

24 Adams Stierman Hill.

words of Mr. John Morley,1 "that made Emerson what he was,
flowed not only from Protestantism, but from ' the Protestantism of
the Protestant religion.' When we are told that Puritanism inexor-
ably locked up the intelligence of its votaries in a dark and strait-
ened chamber, it is worthy to be remembered that the genial, open,
lucid, and most comprehensive mind of Emerson was the ripened
product of a genealogical tree that at every stage of its growth had
been vivified by Puritan sap."

To distinction as a scholar, Emerson has no claim. With all his
reverence for Plato, he did not read him easily in the original.
With all his indebtedness to German writers, he studied them chiefly
in translation. Montaigne, Plotinus, Swedenborg, Homer, as well
as Hafiz, Saadi, and the Koran, he took at second hand. Some-
thing he knew of many departments of human knowledge ; but he
had made an exhaustive study of none, he was authority on none.

To this statement philosophy forms an apparent but not a real
exception. Certain philosophers Emerson had read much and pon-
dered deeply; but even German thinkers he studied less in their
own works than in Coleridge. He was not familiar with the history
of philosophy as a whole; he was not master of any one system of
philosophy, and he had no system of his own. " I am not," he wrote
in 1838, "sufficiently master of the little truth I see to know how
to state it in forms so general as shall put every mind in possession
of my point of view."2 He had, it is true, if ever man had, the
philosophic temperament; he was a philosopher, if ever man was.
in habit of mind and conduct of life ; he approached every subject
with the deliberate step of a philosopher ; and he loved philosophy
for its own sake. He believed in that which transcends the senses.
He talked often and much about the unity and the variety of
creation, about the two poles between which all things oscillate, and
about the identity of all things and the interdependence of all
things. (

He did not, however, spend much time in spinning philosophic
cobwebs; for to him philosophy was of special value as a guide of

1 In his excellent introduction to the English edition of Emerson.

2 Conway, Emerson at Home and Abroad, xxii, p. 209.

The Influence of Emerson. 25

life. What suited his genius in Oriental, Greek, or German writers,
he appropriated in order to use it in the service of his genius ; and
that service was moral, — not Puritanically moral, but moral in the
sense of Milton's " divine philosophy." The poetical truth in the
doctrine of the idealists is what commended it to Emerson. It
submits " the shows of things," to borrow Bacon's phrase, " to the
desires of the mind."

Not being a system-monger or a sect-founder, Emerson had no
fear of being inconsistent. He would have deemed himself insincere
had he altered a line or a syllable in one essay in order to adjust
it to what he said in another. When, for example, prudence is
his topic, he says more for it than fully accords with the views
expressed in his essay on heroism : to understand his whole doc-
trine it is necessary to read the two essays together. In general, it
is his practice to state the truth as it appears to him from one side,
and then to state it as it appears from another side, and sometimes
from a third or a fourth, leaving to his reader the task of reconciling
these statements as best he can. This Emerson cheerfully admits,
in so many words, more than once :

"A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds."1

" Why drag about this corpse of your memory, lest you contradict
somewhat you have stated in this or that public place ? Suppose
you should contradict yourself : what then ? " a

To a similar effect is the paragraph which begins the chapter on
Worship in The Conduct of Life : " Some of my friends have com-
plained, when the preceding papers were read, that we discussed
Fate, Power and Wealth on too low a platform ; gave too much line
to the evil spirit of the times; too many cakes to Cerberus; that
we ran Cudworth's risk of making, by excess of candor, the argu-
ment of atheism so strong that he could not answer it. I have no
fears of being forced in my own despite to play as we say the devil's
attorney. I have no infirmity of faith ; no belief that it is of much
•importance what I or any man may say : I am sure that a certain
itruth will be said through me, though I should be dumb, or though

1 Intellect (Works, Riverside edition, I, 267).
* Self-Reliance (Works, II, 58).

26 Adams Sherman Hill.

I should try to say the reverse. Nor do I fear skepticism for any
good soul. A just thinker will allow full swing to his skepticism.
I dip my pen in the blackest ink, because I am not afraid of falling
into my inkpot. I have no sympathy with a poor man I knew, who,
when suicides abounded, told me he dared not look at his razor.
We are of different opinions at different hours, but we always may
be said to be at heart on the side of truth." 1

Since Emerson studied not for the sake of knowledge as an end
but for its use to him as acting, thinking, and writing man, he was
no more closely devoted to books of philosophy with a poetic quality
in them, or to books of poetry charged with philosophic truth, than
to books saturated with human nature, — as Homer, Plutarch, Shaks-
pere, Burns, — and to those which touched him on the New Eng-
land, the Yankee side of his character, as Montaigne, Cervantes,
Franklin. He would have been in no danger of becoming a mere
thinker even if, like Southey, he had lived in his library; but he
lived as much with nature and with men as with books. The
woods and fields near his house, Walden Pond, and the little river,
were to him what the Lake District was to Wordsworth; and his
neighbors were to him what the men of the Lake District rarely
were to Wordsworth — real men and women, not moulds into which
to run his own notions, fancies, or moods. Into his healthy mind
they entered as naturally as the men of London or of Stratford
entered that of Shakspere. He lacked the creative art of the drama-
tist ; but he appropriated the wit and the wisdom of Yankeeland as
thoroughly as he did those of Plato and Zoroaster.

Here we have the key of Emerson's originality. It lay neither
in his old-world philosophy nor in his new-world shrewdness, but ii.
the union of the two. He "hitched his wagon to a star," as his
own phrase runs, — a phrase significant of the rare combination that
constituted his genius. " In the union of an even rustic plainness
with lyric inspiration," says Margaret Fuller, " religious dignity with
philosophic calmness, keen sagacity in details with boldness of view,
we saw what brought to mind the early poets and legislators of
Greece — men who taught their fellows to plough and avoid moral

* Works, VI, 193.

The Influence of Emerson. 27

evil, sing hymns to the gods and watch the metamorphosis of nature.
Here in civic Boston was such a man — one who could see man in
his original grandeur and his original childishness, rooted in simple
nature, raising to the heavens the brow and the eye of a poet." l
" The practical shrewdness," writes Mr. George Ripley in his jour-
nal, "the practical shrewdness interwoven with his poetical nature
is one of the secrets of his power. You attempt to follow his lofty
flight among the purple clouds, almost believing that he has "hitched
his wagon to a star,' when he suddenly drops down to earth, and
surprises you with an utterance of the homeliest wisdom. On this
account, when they get over the novelty of his manner, plain men
are apt to find themselves at home with him. His acquaintance
with common things, all household ways and words, the processes
of everyday life on the farm, in the kitchen and stable, as well as
in the drawing-room and library, engages their attention, and pro-
duces a certain kindly warmth of fellowship, which would seem to
be incompatible with the coldness of his nature." *

Plain men, moreover, were drawn toward Emerson by his manli-
ness. The public never confounded him with the weaklings of
culture, whose selfishness differs from that of ordinary men chiefly
in the fact that it has less muscle. With Emerson culture meant
true manhood :

" We are parlor soldiers. We shun the rugged battle of fate,
where strength is born." 8

" In manly hours, we feel that duty is our place." *

"Neither vexations nor calamities abate our trust. No man ever
stated his griefs as lightly as he might." 5

" ' What has he done ? ' is the divine question which searches
men and transpierces every false reputation." 6

" Never strike sail to a fear." 7

1 Conway, Emerson at Home and Abroad, xxvi, p. 296.

2 Octavius Brooks Frothingham, George Ripley, chap, vii, p. 268.
8 Self-Reliance (Works, II, 75).

* Ibid., p. 79.

6 Spiritual Laws (Works, II, 126).
8 Ibid., p. 1 50.

7 Heroism (Works, II, 244).

a 8 Adams Sherman Hill.

" Valor consists in the power of self-recovery, so that a man can-
not have his flank turned, cannot be out-generalled, but put him
where you will, he stands." *

" A self-denial no less austere than the saint's is demanded of the
scholar. He must worship truth, and forego all things for that, and
choose defeat and pain, so that his treasure in thought is thereby
augmented." a

" Do not craze yourself with thinking, but go about your business
anywhere. Life is not intellectual or critical, but sturdy." *

" What have I gained, that I no longer immolate a bull to Jove or
to Neptune, or a mouse to Hecate ; that I do not tremble before the
Eumenides, or the Catholic Purgatory, or the Calvinistic Judgment-
day, — if I quake at opinion, the public opinion, as we call it ; or
at the threat of assault, or contumely, or bad neighbors, or poverty,
or mutilation, or at the rumor of revolution, or of murder ? If I
quake, what matters it what I quake at ? "4

On Emerson's second visit to England, he was asked who were
his chief friends in America. He replied: "I find many among the
Quakers. I know one simple old lady in particular whom I espe-
cially honor. She said to me, ' I cannot think what you find in me
which is worth notice.' Ah!" continued Mr. Emerson, "if she had
said yea and the whole world had thundered in her ear nay, she
would still have said yea."*

Another of Emerson's characteristics that impressed plain people
was his good sense. It was that which kept him from taking part
in the Brook Farm experiment. " My feeling is," he writes, " that
the community is not good for me, that it has little to offer me,
which with resolution I cannot procure for myself; that it would not
be worth my while to make the difficult exchange of my property in
Concord for a share in the new household. ... I cannot accuse my

* Circles (Works, II, 288).

» Intellect (Works, II, 318).

* Experience (Works, III, 62).

* Character (Works, HI, 99).

6 W. Hale White, What Mr. Emerson Owed to Bedfordshire ( The Athenaeum,
May 12, 1882, p. 603).

The Influence of Emerson. 29

townsmen or my neighbors of my domestic grievances, only my own
sloth and conformity. It seems to me a circuitous and operose way
of relieving myself to put upon your community the emancipation
which I ought to take on myself. I must assume my own vows. . . .

" I almost shudder to make any statement of my objections to
our ways of living, because I see how slowly I shall mend them.
My own health and habits of living and those of my wife and my
mother are not of that robustness that should give any pledge of
enterprise and ability in reform. Nor can I insist with any heat on
new methods when I am at work in my study on any literary compo-
sition. Yet I think that all'I shall solidly do, I must do alone, and
I am so ignorant and uncertain in my improvements that I would
fain hide my attempts and failures in solitude where they shall
perplex none or very few friends beside myself." 1

The same good sense which kept Emerson out of the Brook Farm
community distinguished the master from the would-be disciples
who flocked to him at Concord, — " hobgoblins of flesh and blood,"
as Hawthorne called them, " bats and owls and the whole host of
night birds, which flapped their dusky wings against the gazer's
eyes, and sometimes were mistaken for fowls of angelic feather."1
Now and then this mistake was made by Emerson himself ; but
usually, while treating his followers with courtesy, he judged them
justly. In a lecture on New England Reformers, for example, he
gently ridiculed the " fertility of projects for the salvation of the
world." " One apostle," he said, " thought all men should go to
farming, and another that no man should buy or sell, that the use of
money was the cardinal evil ; another that the mischief was in our
diet, that we eat and drink damnation. . . . Even the insect world
was to be defended, — that had been too long neglected, and a
society for the protection of ground worms, slugs, and mosquitoes
was to be incorporated without delay."3

It was these apostles and others like them whom Hawthorne
personified as Giant Transcendentalist in The Celestial Railroad :

1 O. B. Frothingham, George Ripley, Appendix, pp. 315, 316.

2 Mosses from an Old Manse ; The Old Manse, p. 42.
8 Works, III, 240, 241.

30 Adams Sherman Hill.

" At the end of the Valley, as John Bunyan mentions, is a cavern,
where, in his days, dwelt two cruel giants, Pope and Pagan, who
had strewn the ground about their residence with the bones of
slaughtered pilgrims. These vile old troglodytes are no longer
there ; but into their deserted cave another terrible giant has thrust
himself, and makes it his business to seize upon honest travellers
and fatten them for his table with plentiful meals of smoke, mist,
moonshine, raw potatoes, and sawdust. He is a German by birth,
and is called Giant Transcendentalist; but as to his form, his fea-
tures, his substance, and his nature generally, it is the chief pecul-
iarity of this huge miscreant that neither he for himself, nor anybody
for him, has ever been able to describe them. As we rushed by the
cavern's mouth we caught a hasty glimpse of him, looking somewhat
like an ill-proportioned figure, but considerably more like a heap of
fog and duskiness. He shouted after us, but in so strange a phrase-
ology that we knew not what he meant, nor whether to be encouraged
or affrighted." 1

The same strong common sense which kept Emerson above and
apart from the fanatics and monomaniacs who gathered in his train
inspired and sustained his hostility to the colonialism and conven-
tionalism which infested the America of his day. All his life he
preached the gospel of self-reliance :

"Whoso would be a man must be a non-conformist. ... I
shun father and mother and wife and brother when my genius
calls me. I would write on the lintels of the doorpost, Whim. I
hope it is somewhat better than whim at last, but we cannot spend
the day in explanation." 2

" Each man has his own vocation. . . There is one direction in
which all space is open to him. . . . His ambition is exactly pro-
portioned to his powers." 8

" Men descend to meet." 4

1 Mosses from an Old Manse ; The Celestial Railroad, p. 224.

2 Self-Reliance (Works, II, 53).

3 Spiritual Laws (Works, II, 134).
* The Over-Soul (Works, II, 261).

The Influence of Emerson. 31

" Entire self-reliance belongs to the intellect. ... It must treat
things and books and sovereign genius as itself also a sovereign." 1

" Trust thyself : every heart vibrates to that iron string." 2

" To be great is to be misunderstood." 3

Some of these epigrammatic sentences go much farther than
Emerson's sweet and modest nature would ever have allowed him
to go ; but it is precisely these which are most likely to influence
inferior minds, f Inferior minds, if they become possessed with the
idea that they must look within for inspiration and depend upon
their unassisted selves for intellectual and moral sustenance, are
in danger of pushing self-trust so far that it becomes arrogant self-
conceit and unwarranted self-assertion. Self-trust thus misunder-
stood accounts for most of the " reforms " which were hatched in
the New England of 1830-1840. Self-trust thus misunderstood
accounts for some of the delusions we have witnessed and are
witnessing in the United States of to-day. Hence the blatant
Americanism which would cut loose from associations with what is
best in former times and distant countries. Hence current sneers
at " literary fellers," college professors, the traditions of the past,
and the " noxious " influence of Europe. Hence the disposition to
mistake crude notions and illiterate turns of phrase for originality.
Hence the piercing and pathetic cries for an American literature
and an American political economy. Hence the boast of this or
that city that it has more square miles, or more inhabitants, or
more public buildings than another, and is therefore its superior
intellectually, socially, and morally. Hence the disposition to yield,
without consideration of consequences, to an impulse that goes almost
as soon as it comes, or to be hot about some little question which
is of no importance outside the city or town or parish where it
arises. Hence, in short, all the forms that provincialism assumes.

Emerson himself would never have advised A, B, or C to follow
his own whim, regardless of others, regardless of everything but the
self of the moment. The self he speaks of, the self to be trusted,

1 Intellect (Works, II, 320).

2 Self-Reliance (Works, II, 49).
8 Ibid., p. 59.

32 Adams Sherman Hill.

is a self inspired, illuminated by the divine, a self " obedient to the
heavenly vision " and to the laws of the universe :

"The soul gives itself, alone, original and pure, to the Lonely,
Original and Pure, who, on that condition, gladly inhabits, leads
and speaks through it." *

" A great man is always willing to be little." 2

"It was my privilege," says Miss E. P. Peabody,8 "being in Mr.
Emerson's house when he was preparing his discourse of 1838 for
the press, to see the original manuscript, where I observed a passage
that he omitted in the public reading merely for want of time. This
passage was a warning which, perhaps, had it been published then,
would have saved many a weak brother and sister Transcendentalist
from going into the extreme of ego-theism, which has discredited a
true principle. It was a warning against making the new truth a
fanaticism. Too soon, said he, we shall have the puppyism of a pre-
tension of looking down on the head of all human culture ; setting
up against Jesus Christ every little self magnified."

These passages are enough to show that Emerson had as little
sympathy with self-idolatry and egotistical whimsies as with self-
abasement and echoed opinions. Neither extreme commended itself
to his judgment or his temperament.

Emerson's coolness of temperament, which has been imputed to
him as a fault, was another of the characteristics which plain people
liked. He was almost always master of himself. To the little men
about him he seems to say what he makes Nature say in one of his
early essays : " Nature will not have us fret and fume. She does
not like our benevolence or our learning much better than she likes
our frauds and wars. When we come out of the caucus, or the bank,
or the Abolition-convention, or the Temperance-meeting, or the
Transcendental club into the fields and woods, she says to us, ' So
hot ? my little Sir.' " 4

1 The Over-Soul (Works, II, 277).

2 Compensation (Works, II, 113).

8 Reminiscences of Dr. Channing, p. 373.
4 Spiritual Laws (Works, II, 129).

The Influence of Emerson. 33

Once or twice, indeed, — once or twice only in his life, — Emer-
son's ardor for a good cause overcame his habitual moderation of
temper. One of these occasions was in 1838 when he wrote a letter
to President Van Buren against the removal of the Cherokee Indians
to the Indian Territory against their will, a letter which he after-
wards termed a " shriek " of indignation, and refused to print in
his works. Another occasion was when, during the Civil War, he
wrote to Carlyle : " A few days here would show you the disgusting
composition of the Party which within the Union resists the national
action. Take from it the wild Irish element, imported in the last
twenty-five years into this country, and led by Romish priests, who
sympathize, of course, with despotism, and you would bereave it of
all its numerical strength. A man intelligent and virtuous is not to
be found on that side." l

The fact that Emerson was occasionally thrown off his balance by
feelings which he shared with the masses could not but form another
tie of sympathy between him and them. He is like one of the gods
of Olympus coming down to take a hand in the fight between Greece
and Troy, and joining so heartily in the contest as to shriek and
scold like the mortal combatants. At the bidding of a moral cause,
he always came down from the airy heights where he loved to dwell.
From his duties as a citizen he never held himself aloof. In the
affairs of his town, state, or country, he spoke his word and did his
part, quietly almost always, and courageously always.

In a lecture on Heroism delivered in Boston in 1837, shortly after
the Abolitionist Lovejoy was shot by a mob in Illinois, he said :
" Whoso is heroic will always find crises to try his edge. ... It is
but the other day that the brave Lovejoy gave his breast to the
bullets of a mob for the right of free speech and opinion, and died
when it was better not to live." 2 One who heard the lecture is
reported to have said that some of Emerson's friends "felt the
cold shudder that ran through the audience at this calm braving
of public opinion."

1 Emerson and Carlyle Correspondence, edited by Charles Eliot Norton, II,
285, 286.

2 Heroism ( Works, II, 247).

34 Adams Sherman Hill.

I remember hearing Emerson lecture in Cambridgeport some
years before the Civil War. In his audience were a number of
law students ready to interrupt the speaker if occasion arose. " In
Daniel Webster," he said, in a voice as if he were stating a plain
matter of fact, "in Daniel Webster, where other men have a con-
science, there is a great hole." The law students hissed vigorously,
and Emerson paused as he would have done after applause. When
the hissing was over, he went on, as he would have done after
applause, without raising his voice or altering his position. On
this occasion, as on others, he showed that he had the calm courage
of his convictions — the same courage he evinced when, in 1831, he
defied public opinion by giving the Abolitionists a hearing in his
church, or when he estranged his " Transcendental " friends by
refusing to join in the Brook Farm enterprise, and by speaking his
mind freely about it.

Still another characteristic which brought Emerson close to the
hearts of simple people was his tenderness. Behind the determi-
nation to be sincere at any cost, underneath apparent coldness, lay
a fund of sympathy, which won the affection of every person who
came in contact with him, which gave to his eloquence the indefin-
able quality called " personal magnetism," and to his smile that
sweetness which all who knew him remember. It is this depth of
feeling which adds to the value of all he has written about the com-
mon experiences of life, — from the Threnody, in which he bewails
the early death of the son whom he described in a letter to Carlyle
as a " piece of love and sunshine," to the chapter on domestic life
in Society and Solitude, a chapter written early but not printed until
1860.

Another quality which commended Emerson to plain people was
his persistent hopefulness and buoyancy of mind, in private matters
and in public, in speculation and in practical life, — an optimism
which m'ade him shun deformity and sickness, the ugly facts and
the discouraging problems of life, but which, on the other hand,
kept his heart pure, his temper sweet, and his head sane, and
enabled him to see signs of promise in the darkest hour, whether
in his own experience or in that of his country. His lines in the
poem called The World- Soul held true of him throughout life :

The Influence of Emerson. 35

" Spring still makes spring in the mind,

When sixty years are told ;
Love wakes anew this throbbing heart,

And we are never old.
Over the winter glaciers,

I see the summer glow,
And, through the wild-piled snowdrift,

The warm rosebuds below."

What a contrast between the spirit that animates these lines and
the dark spirit of pessimism that makes so many living writers
approach the end of the century as if it were the end of the world !

Such are some of the qualities which contributed to the rare
personality of 'Emerson — the personality which inspired his best
writing, spoke in his voice, irradiated his features, and was the
master-light of all his seeing. Fully to feel the force and the charm
of that personality, one must have known Emerson in the flesh.
For those who have not had that privilege, the best way, perhaps,
to find him in his writings is not consciously to look for him, but
to read and enjoy. Then, as we look back upon these precious
volumes, we may catch a glimpse of the man who wrote them, and
who was even better than they. " Though it is only the other day,"
says Mr. John Morley,1 " though it is only the other day that Emer-
son walked the earth and was alive and among us, he is already one
of the privileged few whom the reader approaches in the mood of
settled respect, and whose names have surrounded themselves with
an atmosphere of religion."

To this high praise some of Emerson's countrymen would, no
doubt, demur; but even those who are slow to admit that his name
is surrounded by an " atmosphere of religion " must admit that he
is among " the privileged few " of America, and that in his com-
pany one breathes a purer air than "usual. In American history, he
is among the figures which most deserve affectionate regard and
reverence ; and his are among the writings which the young should
study most earnestly, for they are those in which the best thought
of this country finds its best expression. If his work does not live

1 Introduction to the English edition of Emerson.

36 Adams Sherman Hill.

in the printed form which he gave it, the reason will be that what
he said was so sound in substance and was said so well that it has
passed into commonplace, and is living a vigorous life in character,
individual and national. The good which Emerson has done and
is for some time to. come likely to do in the United States of
America, if not in the English-speaking world, can hardly be
overstated. "As Wordsworth's poetry is, in my judgment," says
Matthew Arnold,1 " the most important work done in verse, in our
language, during the present century, so Emerson's Essays are, I
think, the most important work done in prose." This may be too
much to say, too much at least when coupled with the rest of
what Mr. Arnold says about Emerson ; but it is certain that as a
mental stimulus, as a moral force, as " the friend and aider of those
who live in the spirit," Emerson stands among the foremost men
of the nineteenth century.

What a change for the better in this country in less than fifty
years ! And how much of this change may be traced to Emer-
son ! When he began to write, we were a vulgar people, pursuing
vulgar ends in a vulgar spirit. The pictures of us drawn by our
English visitors — Marryatt, Mrs. Trollope, Dickens, Fanny Kemble
— are not much overcharged. We had plenty of force, to be sure ;
but it was the force of a big boy badly brought up, — a bragging,
brutal, slovenly, hob-nailed boy. Of course there were Americans
of a higher order; but the nation as a whole was unlovely. The
country was in that border region between barbarism and civilization
which is worse than either. Art, literature, culture, in a high sense,
were almost unknown. The amenities of life were not thought of.
We all know Americans who were brought up in this school and
newspapers that represent it, — know and shun them, or strive to
improve them, according to our natures. What Emerson did was to
hold up a lofty ideal in his lectures and writings, and in his daily
walk and conversation.

We have him to thank — him with others, of course, but him
most of all among Americans — for our increasing faith in the
spirit of Christianity as compared with its forms and creeds and

1 Discourses in America ; Emerson (Macmillan & Co., 1885), p. 196.

The Influence of Emerson. 37

ceremonies, a spirit not confined to one church or one sect, but
extending through all. His elevation of character, his purity of life,
gave force and significance to his dissent from popular beliefs.
" If," people asked themselves, " this be the outcome of unbelief
in what I have been taught to regard as the essentials of life here
and hereafter, unbelief is not such a bad thing after all. Is it
possible, then, that the so-called essentials are not essential ? "

When, however, we try to estimate the value of Emerson's con-
tribution to religion as a body of beliefs, our obligations to him are
less evident. To most minds his doctrine of the " Over-soul " is
vague and mystical; to some it is a fine name for ignorance. As a
protest against a personal God who was little more than an enlarged
copy of the men who worshipped him, it did good work; but as an
attempt to provide a substitute for the God of Christendom, it is
unsatisfactory to the religious sense. Matthew Arnold's phrase,
" something not ourselves that makes for righteousness," is quite
as intelligible as Emerson's "Over-soul." Every man is conscious
of an impulse from within to do the right, call it conscience or
what you will. Every man can understand Tennyson's line about
duty : " Because I knew the right and did it." Not every man can
get out of himself to think, as it seems necessary to do if he would
master the Oriental or Neo- Platonic philosophy which Emerson tried
to domesticate in America. Fully to understand him, however, it is
necessary to read those parts of his writings which speak of the
unknowable ; for with him the " Over-soul " is " a presence not to
be put by."

In social manners, the way Emerson pointed out was that toward
which his countrymen's best selves were blindly groping, and in
which he himself, so far as externals are concerned, was not per-
fectly at home. He was one of nature's gentlemen; but he had not
the finished manners which only the best descent combined with
long familiarity with the best society can give. He had the essen-
tials of a gentleman, but not all the superficial grace, not all the
flexibility, the tact, the presence of mind, that belong to the best
breeding. Beside Carlyle, he was as Apollo to Vulcan ; but he was
not Sir Philip Sidney. Neither in himself nor in what he said about
manners did he present an ideal beyond the reach of any American

38 Adams Sherman Hill.

who comes of good stock, has been liberally educated, and has
learned to respect himself and others in due measure ; but his
ideal was far in advance of the American as he was in 1840.

Much as Emerson had to teach his countrymen about manners,
or the best way of manifesting character, he had still more to say
of morals, the foundation of character. Whatever his subject, he
came round at last to morality as the substratum of all grace as well
as of all virtue. " The foundation of culture, as of character," says
he, " is at last the moral sentiment. This is the fountain of power,
preserves its eternal newness, draws its own rent out of every
novelty in science. Science corrects the old creeds; sweeps away
with every new perception our infantile catechisms, and necessi-
tates a faith commensurate with the grander orbits and universal
laws which it discloses. Yet it does not surprise the moral senti-
ment. That was older, and awaited expectant these larger insights.
. . . When the will is absolutely surrendered to the moral sentiment,
that is virtue ; when the wit is surrendered to intellectual truth, that
is genius. Talent for talent's sake is a bauble and a show. Talent
working with joy in the cause of universal truth lifts the possessor
to new power as a benefactor." a

The doctrine of the supremacy of the moral sense, which Emerson
never wearied of preaching, has done and is doing good service in
a country and an age devoted to material pursuits. If Americans
worship the Almighty Dollar a little less than they used to do, the
change, though coming no doubt from many causes, is to be cred-
ited to Emerson more than to any other one person. At first his
influence reached comparatively few ; but through these few he gave
direction and stimulus to private virtue and to public opinion. At
first he addressed a small group of New England come-outers ; at
last everybody went to hear him lecture, and every reader of goou
books, however little in sympathy with him, found it necessary to
know something of a man who counted for so much in the world
of ideas and ideals. A listener, to be sure, sometimes carried away
nothing which he could put into words, but he took out of the
room a better self than he had brought into it ; for a time his

1 Letters and Social Aims ; Progress of Culture ( Works, VIII, 216, 217, 218).

The Influence of Emerson. 39

whole being had been lifted above its ordinary level, as by an hour
of fine music, or an hour on a mountain or by the sea. " We do
not go," writes Lowell, " to hear what Emerson says, so much as
to hear Emerson." Now as then, in his written as in his spoken
words, the charm lies less in what he says than in what he is, less

in the author than in the man.

ADAMS SHERMAN HILL.

THE BALLAD AND COMMUNAL POETRY.

BALLAD-CRITICS of eighty years ago, with the conspicuous
exception of A. W. Schlegel, were fain to welcome the doc-
trine of Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm that a song of the people is
made by the people as a whole. The process, it was conceded, lay
in mystery; but mystery had no terror for an age which delighted in
abstractions and ideals. Critics of our own day, on the other hand,
have closed accounts with the ideal and the abstract; they treat the
vagaries of Grimm with an indulgent pity; and they are all of Schle-
gel's mind.1 Grundtvig,2 it is true, still held with Grimm, and the last
words of ten Brink were for a modified form of Grimm's doctrine ;
but the main body of scholars have turned from the theory in any
shape. The folk is out of favor, and democracy itself is put upon
the defensive. Ballads for a while held out bravely; but now even
ballads, like folk-lore in general, have been annexed to the domain
of art.3

1 There is a fine modern ring in the famous article (ffeidelberger Jahrbiicher,
1815, reprinted in Schlegel's Werke, XII, 383 ff.), a crisp finality of rejection:
" Was man an Zeitaltern und Volkern riihmt, loset sich immer bei naherer
Betrachtung in die Eigenschaften und Handlungen einzelner Menschen auf "
(P- 385)- Then follows the famous allegory of the tower and the architect.
Later (pp. 390 f.) the modern theory of constant borrowing as main factor in the
spread of popular tales, and of the love of entertainment as their chief cause, is
clearly anticipated. W. Grimm's answer (Altdetttsche Blatter, III, 370 f.) denies
Schlegel's assertions, but for lack of space gives no argument.

2 To the regret of scholars everywhere, Professor Child has left nothing on
the subject of ballad-origins which he wished to be quoted or regarded.

3 Mr. Joseph Jacobs, in a cheery paper which he wrote " as a stopgap " for
Folk-Lore, June, 1893 (IV, 2, 233 ff.), says that there is no such thing as the folk
behind what one calls folk-tales, folk-lore, popular ballads. " Artistry is indi-
vidual. ... * The folk is simply a name for our ignorance," and is not even
responsible for custom. He would break down all barriers between folk-lore and
literature, and declares that in the music-hall will be found " the volkslieder of to-
day." During the International Folk-Lore Congress of 1891 (see Proceedings,
p. 64), Mr. Newell pleaded for his theory that folk-tales are a degenerate form,

42 F. B. Gummere.

If I venture to regard as still open a question so vehemently deter-
mined by all sorts and conditions of scholars, it is with no idea that
the communal theory can be upheld as it was stated by the Grimms.
There is, however, a theory of ballad origins quite opposed to the
modern notion, and yet far from finding expression in those fantastic
catchwords about the folk that composes, and about the song that
sings itself. If, instead of such phrases as these, instead even of
Steinthal's dichtendtr volksgeist,1 we think of a process such as Lach-
mann implies when he speaks of gemeinsames dichten, is not a clearer
question before us ? 2 Does a single artist always make poetry, of
whatever sort, or may one allow a concert of individuals in the act
of composition ? Is the folk-song brought to the folk, or is it made
by the folk? Is the chorus, the communal song, essentially one

amid a low civilization, of something which was composed amid a high civiliza-
tion. During the same congress Mr. Jacobs solved the particular problem by
remarking (p. 86) that Scotch ballads " lack initials at the end." Mr. J. F.
Campbell, in his delightful Popular Tales of the West Highlands (new ed., IV,
114, 118), understands by the word "ballad ... a bit of popular history, or a
popular tale or romance, turned into verse, which will fit some popular air," and
makes the sequence of origins begin with tradition, follow with a tale, and so
into a popular ballad. He concedes " the stamp of originality and the traces of
many minds." In another place (I, xxxiv) he seems to give precedence to singing,
but he is evidently on the artist's side. Mr. Jacobs, again, in a well-known pas-
sage {English Fairy Tales, p. 240), thinks that verse and prose began together;
the cante-fable " is probably the protoplasm out of which both ballad and folk-
tale have been differentiated." I prefer to think (this is Campbell's unwitting
concession) that " the older the narrator is, the less educated, and the farther
removed from the rest of the world, the more his stories are garnished with "
rhythmic passages, — originally "a bardic composition," — and while the original
raconteur may have been a bit of an artist in verse as well, all this cannot affect
the ballad with its communal elements of refrain, dance, and improvisation.
Further material on this subject may be found in the Introduction to my Old
English Ballads, Boston, 1894.

1 Z,ur Volksdichtung, in Zeitschr.f. Volkerpsychologie, XI, 30.

8 Lachmann's letter to Lehrs, quoted by Friedlander in his Homerische Kritik
von Wolf bis Grote, Berlin, 1853, p. viii. Steinthal's comments (Z.f. V., VII,
31 f.) are not at all clear. Lachmann simply opposes this gemeinsames dichten
to the act of the single poet, while Mr. Jacobs relies on " some bucolic wit " — that
is, an individual poet, however humble — for all poetry that has been attributed
to " the folk."

The Ballad and Communal Poetry. 43

with the composed poem as we now know it, — an individual, delib-
erate, and artistic work? Is there no real dualism in generative
poetics,1 in the " literary " section of that science which Renan put
beside psychology and called the embryogenie de r esprit humain, — a
dualism of chorus and solo, of throng and poet, of community and
artist ? If a folk-song is brought to the folk, no matter how early the
stage of composition, or how many additions and changes are after-
wards made, then one must surrender the long-cherished and useful
distinction of volkslied and volksthiimliches lied, counting with the
former, as Mr. Jacobs explicitly concedes, any concert-hall jingle
caught up by a crowd. If a folk-song is made by the folk, the proc-
ess must be clearly understood, and must be severed from those
fantastic catchwords usually thought to express it.

It has been granted at the outset that a mere statement of this
communal theory runs counter to the drift of modern thought. Nomi-
nalism is again in the lead; realism, the appeal to general ideas, to a
species or a folk, is out of the running. Hence that open scorn
expressed on all sides for the communal mind, and even for so
respectable an abstraction as the spirit of the race. Professor Paul,
in his excellent book on the Principles of Language? condemns utterly
the attempts of Steinthal and Lazarus to establish a psychology of
the people as a whole, apart from the psychology of the single mind.
" All psychical processes come to their fulfillment in individual
minds, and nowhere else," he says ; and again, " // never happens
that several individuals create anything by working together with united
forces and divided functions." Paul is talking of language and its
making, but this terse denial applies directly to the relations of verse
and throng. To uphold it successfully is to overthrow the theory
of communal verse,8 however plausible and modern may be the
argument for poetry that springs not from the artist, but from the

1 See a sketch of the new science of poetics as it should be, by Eugen Wolff,
Vorstudien zur Poetik, in Zcitschr.f. vcrgleich. Literatur, VI (1893), 423 ff.

2 See Strong's trans, of the 2d ed., pp. xxiv, xxxvi f., xliii f., and the whole
chapter on Original Creation.

* The straightforward assertion is slightly damaged later by a concession
(p. xlv) that "in all the psychical processes there is very little voluntary effort
and consciousness, and very little individuality displays itself."

44 F. B. Gummere.

mass of men ; and we know that Paul elsewhere condemns in set
terras the notion of gregarious composition.1 Thus the master in
philology; and with him, as quotations could readily prove, are such
scholars as the late W. D. Whitney. Coming closer to our subject,
we find Gerber, in his book on Language as an Art, taking a position
similar to that of Paul ; 2 the maker of words, the maker of con-
nected speech, of poetry itself, must be perforce an artist. Poetry
by its very terms of existence is an art ; it implies an artist ; and an
artist is always individual and deliberate.

In short, the communal origin of song finds almost no recognition
from modern scholars. To show how remarkably critics agree touch-
ing this matter, although their work lies in widely sundered fields,
two writers may be quoted who essay a positive theory of the artist
as final cause, — one, an authority in sociology, M. Tarde; the other,
a debutant in poetics, M. Kawczynski. Language, says the former,8
is originally an invention of the single mind made lasting by imitation
on the part of the throng.4 This law of individual invention and
communal imitation is true not only of speech but, if one will believe
M. Tarde, of trades and arts, of literature, poetry, religion. We are

1 Grundriss d. germ. Philol., I, 73, 231.

8 Die Sprache als Kunst, 2.. Ausg., I, 246 ff. " Sprache nimmt ihren Ausgangs-
punkt von den Individuen." So (I, 30) the art of speech comes " aus Einzel-
bestrebungen " ; and see I, 124. It is a dangerous concession, however, when
Gerber speaks (I, 131) of " die Entwickelung des Menschen von der Natursprache,
in welcher ein Minimum des Ich sick bethdtigt, bis zur Sprache der Kunst, welche
den Menschen wesentlich ausspricht," and concedes (I, 309) that "die Kunst-
thatigkeit welche sie \i.e., ' Sprachkunstwerke '] schuf, keine bewiisste war" Take
away individuality and conscious art, and spontaneous or communal art seems no
wild hypothesis.

• Les Lois de F Imitation, Paris, 1890. See pp. 3, 16, 30, 32, 230 ff., 265, for
remarks which bear upon the present subject.

* " Un sauvage de genie ... a donne" lieu, dans une famille unique, aux
premieres manifestations linguistiques. De cette famille comme d'un centre,
1'exemple . . ." (p. 279) ; and in the same spirit (p. 48): " A Porigine un anthro-
po'ide a imagine . . . les rudiments d'un langage." All this is in the early
eighteenth-century strain; for an antidote, see Renan, De FOrigine du Langage,
p. 77, and his query (p. 92): "Qui oserait dire que les facultes humaines sont
des inventions libres de 1'homme ? Or, inventer un langage cut etc aussi impos-
sible que d'inventer une faculte"."

7'he Ballad and Communal Poetry. 45

all Dogberrians together if we dare to assert that anything came by
nature. Even among the lower animals, it is not instinct common to
a species, but imitation of the individual leader, — and of the prece-
dent invention, — which explains alike the song of birds and the
ingenious operations of bees.1 Evolution itself is not radical enough
to suit the views of M. Tarde. The evolution of the arts is not,
as Mr. Herbert Spencer would have us believe, a progress from
exterior and general to interior and particular.2 In the amazing
words of Tarde, poetry, for example, " begins (debute) always with
a book, an epopee, some poetical work of a remarkably great relative
perfection, — the Iliad, the Bible, Dante, — some high initial
source."

This is startling enough; one feels that one is losing old landmarks,
and is swept by strange currents into a chartless and unsounded
ocean; but the lead sinks lower yet in M. Kawczynski's essay on the
origin and history of rhythms.3 Here one learns definitely that verse
is never spontaneous. It is an art — not as John Fletcher called it,
one of the " improper " or universal arts, " such as nature is said to
bestow, as singing and poetry,"4 — but an art which is always imi-
tated, borrowed.5 European poetry has been borrowed partly from
the East, partly from Rome ; and there are no exceptions to the rule,
not even ballads, which the writer hopes to treat, as Cosquin treated
popular tales, by drawing them into daylight out of "the night of
spontaneity." Now, to put the ballad, by its very name product and
property of a dancing throng, into one class with the popular tale,
by its very name a thing told or recited with sharp distinction of teller
and hearers, is a task to be accomplished only by a suppression of

1 Tarde, p. 74, with reference to views of Darwin and Romanes.

2 See Popular Science Monthly, May, 1895, PP- 34 #•» f°r Mr. Spencer's sane
account of origins.

8 Essai Comparatif sur FOrigine et THistoire des Rythmes, Paris, 1889. Another
radical in this subject is Dr. Ernst Meurmann, in Wundt's Philosophische Studien,
X (1894), 249-322, 393-440, whose praiseworthy effort to reorganize the science
of rhythms on the basis of psycho-physics is somewhat marred by his contempt
for earlier investigators. The future, however, seems to him big with promise.

* Faithful Shepherdess, " To the Reader."

• Essai, pp. 10, 13, 15.

46 JF. B. Gummere.

those communal dements which went to the making of ballads, and
by constant harping upon imitation and upon that far more difficult
matter of invention. The people, of course, must be swept from popu-
lar poetry precisely as Mr. Jacobs sweeps away the folk from folk-lore.
The " bucolic wit " of Mr. Jacobs does not appear in M. Kawczynski's
list; but organists, "sacristans of the parish," and inevitable beggars
and blind men, " who always went through an apprenticeship, a sort of
schooling," are responsible for that mysterious " secondary invention "
of the ballad which follows upon the primary imitation. Whence this
imitation is derived, M. Kawczynski fails to inform us, save that we
are never to look to the people. His pet aversion is " the false prin-
ciple of spontaneity." To banish spontaneity from every phase of
poetry is a lively task, and leads the writer into such vivacities as his
statements about early German poetry in particular, and Germanic
verse in general. Otfried, for example, founded German literature
because he first put it upon the sacred path of imitation.1 The
Nibelungen Lay — thanks, we suppose, to Otfried — is a palpable
imitation of the classics, and Siegfried merely a disguised Jason, with
some dash of Achilles and Perseus thrown in ! " Historic influ-
ences," the writer explains, " are stronger than the natural and proper
gifts of any people." 2 Or, take the matter of beginning-rime, the
"alliteration" of Germanic verse. Since the Germanic brain was
notoriously unfit to invent this, or even to transmit it from Aryan
origins, one must therefore fall back upon imitation. It is easy to
see that " alliteration was developed in the classical languages, and
was handed over from the Latin to the Irish; Irish gave it to Anglo-
Saxon, and Anglo-Saxon artists taught it to the Germans and the
Scandinavians." And Germanic verse itself ? An imitation of the
hexameter.8

Evidently it is going to be a bagatelle for M. Kawczynski to dis-
pose of the general fact of poetry, and of its fundamental element

1 Esfai,p. 2$.

2 This merry process of poetizing the world over, without the investment of
any home capital, has some resemblance to the device known among brokers as
"kiting cheques."

8 Essai, pp. 102, 104. I cannot quite understand the praise given to this essay
by a reviewer in the American Journal of Philology, vol. XI.

The Ballad and Communal Poetry. 47

of rhythm and harmony. Spontaneity, of course, is to be dismissed
altogether from the reckoning. Rhythm, we are told, was a dis-
covery, an invention made like any other invention ; and it is to be
considered without reference to instinct or natural impulse. Dan-
cing, for example, was no instinctive matter, no inborn sense of
rhythm expressing itself in outward movement, and thus timing
spontaneously the voice of joy or sorrow that was fain to go with it ;
dancing was invented.1 One is thus led to think gratefully, too, of
whatever sauvage de genie first hit upon laughter, or upon tears, as
an outlet for that rash humor, itself invented — who knows ? — by
some earlier anthropoid.

To this favor, then, we must come in poetics if we reject spon-
taneity,— the only possible basis for any assumption of communal
authorship, — and hold that the formula of invention and imitation
explains all progress in the arts of life. The thorough-going nomi-
nalist is bold to affirm that singing, shouting, laughing, even erect
walking and jumping, were inventions of the artist. It is not too
much to say that man thus invented himself, and has since filled his-
tory with a series of imitations and " secondary inventions." But
must "the false principle of spontaneity" be banished? Is it a false
principle ? Renan held with Schlegel and the moderns that " poetry
of the people, which is so thoroughly anonymous, always has an
author;" but Renan saw spontaneity writ large over the entire life
of primitive man.2 Few critics, indeed, have had the hardihood to
deny a fact about which so much evidence lies at hand; and when
one considers further into what mazes one is led by such a denial,
there seems to be every reason for adhering to the belief in certain
spontaneous movements of the human mind, particularly as regards
rhythmical expression. But this rhythmical spontaneity furnishes the

1 Essai, p. 79. Of course, as every one admits, the artist in dancing was early
on the scene ; dances were often (and are often now among our own Indians)
intricate enough, and had to be taught, explained, conducted : see Bastian,
" Masken und Maskereien," in Zeitschr. f. Vblkerpsych., XIV, 347. But, in spite
of M. Kawczynski, we are sure that there was and is spontaneous dancing.

2 " L'absence de toute reflexion, li spontaneite . . . doit etre rappele"e toutes
les fois qu'il s'agit des oeuvres primitives de I'humanite." — De I'Origine du Lan-
gage, pp. 21 f.

48 F. B. Gummere.

chief argument for the assumption of early communal song ; and it
seems even to make difficulties for those who look upon poetry from
the artistic point of view alone.

Aristotle is justly regarded as a fountain of common sense, if not
as a final authority, in matters poetic ; it is worth noting that he has
indirectly and briefly touched upon the question of communal verse.
Poetry and music, he remarks,1 are imitation by means of rhythm,
language, and harmony; dancing is rhythm alone. " Imitation, then,
is one instinct of our nature. Next there is the instinct for harmony
and rhythm, metre being manifestly a species of rhythm. Persons,
therefore, with this natural gift little by little improved upon their
early efforts till their rude improvisations gave birth to poetry.
Poetry now branched off in two directions, according to the individ-
ual character of the writers." Again: " Tragedy, as also comedy, was
at first mere improvisation," — that is, was not poetry at all, but, as
we learn elsewhere, mere communal excitement of the throng, break-
ing into rhythmic utterance and dances.2 Presently comes the often-
quoted statement that "Aeschylus . . . diminished the importance of the
chorus" while " the iambic measure replaced the trochaic tetrameter,
which was originally employed when the poetry was of the satyric
order, and had greater affinities with dancing."

Waiving all question about the meaning of " nature " and of " imi-
tation," one must admit that Aristotle sets up an antithesis between
artistic and communal poetry. True, it is only the work of an artist
that he will recognize as poetry at all ; but he opposes to this the
vast range of improvised festal and choral verse, that communal song
which we regard as still lingering, though crossed and disguised by
manifold strains of art, in the ballads of Europe. Restore to the
ballad its ancient rights. Give it again the dance as its source and
condition ; consider the jubilant throng, with its refrain steadily en-
croaching, as we retrace the course of development, upon the domain
of the artist and his stanzas; take into account the constant repetition
of words, phrases, verses ; and, above all, note the fact of improvisa-

1 Poetics, trans. S. H. Butcher, London, 1895, pp. 15 ff.

2"A wild religious excitement," says Butcher in a note, p. 252, "a bacchic
ecstasy. This aimless ecstasy was brought under artistic law."

The Ballad and Communal Poetry. 49

tion joined with a universal facility in rhythmic utterance,1 — here is
something which Aristotle did well to sever from the category of art.
It will be remembered that Gerber2 makes a dangerous concession to
the spontaneity of primitive song. In point of fact, he is forced to
exclude spontaneous verse, or what he calls improvisation, from his
definition of poetry ; for he defines poetry as " deliberation " added
to "enthusiasm,"3 and remarks that "the improvisator cannot be a
poet." To explain this improvised verse, Gerber makes shifty sen-
tences about "natural art," and what not; ballads, he declares,4
when they are improvised, belong merely to the art of language, not
to the art of poetry, because the makers have a certain command of
language, can juggle with words, and astonish us, as Archias aston-
ished Cicero, with feats of mere diction.5 But we do not care for
Archias ; our eyes are fixed on the dancing, singing, improvising
multitude ; and Gerber's explanation breaks down utterly, because
he does not recognize this dualism of the artist and the throng.
Spontaneous composition in a dancing multitude — all singing, all
dancing, and all able on occasion to improvise — is a fact of primi-
tive poetry about which we may be as certain as such questions allow
us to be certain. Behind individuals stands the human horde. Pre-
ceding the beginnings of artistic drama, and in some fashion a founda-

1 An important element in the question. See for evidence my Old English
Ballads, pp. xc £.; Bielschowsky, Geschichte d. deutschen Dorfpoesie im ijten J/idt.,
fassim ; ]. F. Campbell, Pop. Tales? I, xxxvii and IV, 164 f., with his reference
to the Nialssaga ballad, " composed and sung at a meeting of neighbors."

2 See above, p. 44, note.

8 Besonnenheit ; begeisterung. See Sprache als Kunst, I, 32.

* Ibid., I, 77.

6 Cicero's tribute, Pro Arch., VIII, is distinctly nobler than Gerber's reasoning
would allow ; but it is communal improvisation, after all, with which we are con-
cerned, — the verse which Aristotle rightly denied to art and conceded to " in-
stinct " and nature. Schopenhauer, in his interesting discussion of poetry ( Welt
als Wille u. Vorstellung, I, § 51), treats even artistic lyric as a kind of improvisa-
tion, and couples Goethe's best lyric with a folk-song from the Wunderhorn. All
critics, it seems to me, fail to fix their attention on those elements and conditions
of the ballad for which evidence is so plentiful. Hence even Steinthal fails in
his effort to show the dichtender volksgeist at work, by tracing one of Uhland's
ballads in its progress among the people.

50 F. B. Gummere.

tion for it, Aristotle evidently saw such a horde or throng. An
insistent echo of this throng greets us from the ballads. The delib-
eration of artistry excluded, it simply remains to ask how verse was
made in, or even by, this mass of " enthusiastic " men. It remains,
in other words, to study the rhythmic and emotional expression of a
throng.

It is by no means certain that psychology must be a matter of the
single soul. Crowds, communities, races,1 have an individuality of
their own, and this is a legitimate object of study. While Paul
denies the fact of " demopsychology," Wundt, in a long article,8
justifies it, and names, as its fundamental problems, speech, myth,
custom, — the three products of the communal mind. To these we
must certainly add communal poetry, giving it a domain which Wundt
divides between speech and myth. For the present day, communal
poetry is merely a trace, a hint, a survival from the misty past
analogous, in its logical and chronological relations to artistic poetry,
with the relations of those faint traces of the ancient village commu-
nity to the modern individual ownership of land. For primitive times
we are to reverse all this. Communal poetry was doubtless the rule,
with here and there a hint of artistry. We face, for the true study
of our problem, a horde of primitive men ; and we must remember
that, contrary to old notions, the individual was not the father of
society, but, as Reclus puts it, society was the mother of the indi-
vidual.3 It is only fair to carry this distinction into our idea of
primitive institutions. Primitive religion was collective, a thing of
rites and ceremonies, communal even in the sentiment which began,
perhaps in earliest times, to cover the hard rock of cult with that

1 J. Darmesteter and others have protested against this word, but races are
not necessarily connected by common descent. The " historic race " is success-
fully defined and defended by G. Le Bon, L1 Evolution des Peuples, Paris, 1894.

2 Defending the Gesammtgeist, and entitled " Ueber Ziele und Wege der Volker-
psychologie," Philosophische Studien, IV (1888), i ff. See particularly pp.
ii ff. and p. 17, where Wundt concedes that "die Volksseele" is "an sich ein
ebenso berechtigter, ja nothwendiger Gegenstand psychologischer Untersuchung
wie die individuelle Seele."

8 " All felt, thought, and acted in concert. Everything leads us to believe that
at the outset collectivism was at its maximum and individualism at its minimum."
Reclus, Primitive Folk, p. 57.

The Ballad and Communal Poetry. 51

moss of poetry and myth which so many critics have mistaken for the
real basis of religion. By all evidence, poetry must also be regarded
for those times as collective and communal. If civilization, which
has spent its main energies to accent the individual, still finds its way
barred by communal oppositions, and vainly applies to them the
solvent which acts so readily upon the individual mind, — if M. Le
Bon l still sees in the throng of our own day " a single being, gov-
erned by the law of communal mental unity," a " sort of collective
mind," — what shall one think of this collective mind, its inceptive
and productive power, under primitive conditions, with the individual
at his feeblest, thought immeasurably subordinated to emotion, and
spontaneity almost absolute ? If enthusiasm and deliberation, —
enthusiasm as of a throng, deliberation as of the artist, the solitary
maker, — are ultimate factors of poetry as we know it, shall we not
assume, and does not Aristotle bid us assume, for earliest poetry a
maximum of enthusiasm with a minimum of deliberation, or, in other
words, communal spontaneity in such force as almost to exclude
every trace of individual artistry ? To use Matthew Arnold's figure
about Celt and German, are we not to think of modern poetry as a
vast obscure communal basis with a vast visible artistic superstruc-
ture ? To make poetry first and last a matter of the artist, to insist
with Scherer upon poet and public, from the anthropoid's tree-plat-
form down to Browning societies, is tempting enough, simple enough,
plausible enough, until one considers instead of aesthetic principles
the stubborn facts of historical and generative poetics. Universality
of the poetic gift among inferior races,2 spontaneity or improvisation
under communal conditions, the history of refrain and chorus, the
early relation of narrative songs to the dance, — these, I believe, are
not to be referred to that offhand explanation of artistry about which
Mr. Jacobs feels so confident. Grimm erred in asserting a com-

1 See his Psychologie des Foules, pp. 12, 15.

2 Material such as I have collected in proof of this assertion — all evidence,
in fact, drawn from the customs of savages and inferior races — is too cumbrous
to be inserted here, and needs, in addition, so many allowances, balances, com-
ments, as to deserve separate treatment. The reader may turn the pages of
Spencer's unfinished Descriptive Sociology and find plenty of raw material. See
note i, p. 49.

52 F. B. Gummcre.

munal origin for poems of comparatively modern date, — in calling
that a wild flower which, although sprung from wild stock, is never-
theless dependent on a certain measure of cultivation. But it is no
absurdity to insist upon the origin of poetry under communal and not
under artistic conditions.

For poetry began in a human throng, in the horde. The hard
saying is not here, but in the assertion of simultaneous composition,
of human beings working together " with united forces and divided
functions," and creating something. Yet this difficulty is more
apparent than real ; for while nobody thinks it possible for a crowd
to compose offhand and simultaneously a ballad like Sir Patrick
Spens,1 — and a deal of scorn has been wasted over this pretty feat, —
it is quite another question when one reflects upon two facts which
may be assumed as fundamental in primitive culture. The first of
these relates to human speech. The sentence, the proposition, was
the unit of speech,2 just as the verse was and is the unit of poetry ;
and speech in the first instance was an immediate assertion of con-
temporary action. The second fact, proved by specimens of savage
song the world over, is that repetition, endless repetition, was the
chief element in primitive verse. To repeat a sentence was poetry,
for the very foundation of harmony or rhythm is secured simply by
saying a given sentence, and then saying it again. Add to these
facts the lack of individuality, the homogeneous mental state of any
primitive throng, the absence of deliberation and thought, the imme-
diate relation of emotion to expression, the accompanying leap or step
of the dance under conditions of communal exhilaration, — surely the
communal making of verse is no greater mystery than many another
undoubted feat of primitive man. The wail of sorrow expressed
spontaneously by the throng in a word or phrase, and repeated
indefinitely to the motions of a funeral dance,3 is poetry for the
student of primitive culture, if not for the young lions of the Brown-
ing cult. Add the great fact of reproduction, upon which ten Brink

1 Folk-poetry was a survival of prehistoric gregarious or communal song, the
verse of the horde ; ballads are a crossed and disguised survival of folk-poetry.

2 Paul, Principles, § 128.

• See R. M. Meyer on the Refrain, Zeitsckr.f. vgl. Lit., I, 34 ff.

The Ballad and Communal Poetry. 53

laid such stress,1 as vital in ancient poetry as original production is
vital in our own, and the case is yet stronger. Language itself,
strenuously claimed by Professor Paul for artistic origins, has been
referred directly to this mentally homogeneous throng. A suggestive
article by Donovan on " The Festal Origin of Human Speech " *
asserts that the earliest expressions of communal interest were in
bodily play, in the excitement " found in all grades of development
from that of the lowest Australian or American aborigines up to the
choral dance out of which the first glorifying songs of the race and its
heroes are found growing" This "play excitement," added to com-
munal elation following success in some tribal enterprise, has its
natural result in rhythmic motions, in excited cries, out of which
come music and speech, — sounds connected with the origin and
purpose of the excitement. Here, then, was the birth of poetry.3

Communal in its origin, poetry must have felt betimes the influ-
ence of artistry. An instructive essay by Dr. Krejci* contrasts the

1 Paul's Grundriss, II, i, 512 ff., and in ten Brink's Beowulf (Quellen u. Forsch-
ungen, LXII),p. 105 f.

2 In Mind, XVI (1891), 498-506. I have to thank Prof. F. H. Giddings for
reference to this article.

8 On the decrease of individual divergences as one retraces history, see Le
Bon, L 'Evolution des Peuples, pp. 37 ff. " Contrairement a nos reves egalitaires,
le resultat de la civilisation moderne n'est pas de rendre les hommes de plus en
plus egaux, mais, au contraire, de plus en plus differents." On p. 43 this is
proved from physiology (of the skull); see also p. 167. Even Tarde (work
quoted, p. 230) admits communal spontaneity, — in a faltering fashion, one must
confess, — and mutters something about " hypnotized " crowds, " suggestion," elec-
trisation psychologique, and what not. See also the president's address of Mr.
Andrew Lang at the International Folk-lore Congress, 1891. Sir Henry Maine
and Mr. Herbert Spencer agree in this matter : see Spencer, Sociology (3d ed.),
I, 702; II, 289, 311 : "organisms which, when adult, appear to have scarcely any-
thing in common, were in their first stages very similar ; ... all organisms start
with a common structure." Further, see Giddings, Sociology, p. 262. On the
special evolution of the artistic dancer, musician, poet, see Spencer, Pop. Set. Mo.,
1895, pp. 364 ff., 433 ff., especially the quotation from Grote, p. 368. But
Mr. Spencer fails even here to recognize the importance of the chorus. More
satisfactory for our purposes is his " Origin and Function of Music," in Illustra-
tions of Universal Progress, New York, 1867, pp. 223 ff. See pp. 224, 232.

* " Das charakteristische Merkmal der Volkspoesie," Zeitschr. f. Volkerpsych.,
XIX (1889), 115 ff.

54 F. B, Gummere.

involuntary or mechanical element of poetry with the opposite ele-
ment of logical or voluntary creation. The course of poetry runs
steadily, he asserts, from a preponderance of the involuntary or
mechanical, that is, of spontaneity, to a preponderance of the volun-
tary, logical, deliberate. The note of popular poetry, of course, is this
element of spontaneity and lack of deliberation ; if we could catch a
glimps.e of primitive conditions, we should find poetry entirely ruled
by the mechanical, the spontaneous, the unreflecting element.1 We
may go further and carry the antithesis to its proper expression, the
dualism of artist and throng. Individuality is the result of reflection ;
only when he combats spontaneity, curbs his communal impulse, and
deliberates upon it, mingles emotion with thought, and separates
himself from the shouting, swaying, dancing mass, does the commu-
nal singer begin to be a poet. Evidently, then, the history of poetic
development is not a course of artistry with some savage or anthro-
poid artist at one end and a civilized artist at the other. That
anthropoid artist is as unscientific, unwarranted an assumption 2 as
the communal creative power which Grimm defended for compara-
tively modern times. The formula to be applied to all poetry is the
measure of communal element and the measure of artistic element.
Taken as a whole, the ballads of Europe show far more of the
communal than of the artistic element; but it is clear that a new
classification is needed, and should be based upon the character
and weight in any given ballad of those elements which are distinctly
of communal origin.

Modern emotion, then, is of the individual, and poetic emotion
is now almost wholly artistic and therefore saturated with thought.8
The prevailing sense of individuality, even under the most elaborately

1 See ibid., p. 120.

2 Germs of artistry, assertions of the individual, but without real control of the
mass, nobody calls in question.

8 There is a very valuable paper by Krohn on " La Chanson Populaire en
Finlande," in Proceedings, Int. Folk-Lore Cong., 1891, pp. 134 ff. In modern
songs of the people Krohn notes this invasion of thought : " La poesie s'est refugiee
dans la pensee, mais elle n'a pu se maintenir intacte de trivialite." Again, " La
poesie lyrique est remplacee par la musique lyrique," — communal poetry, in
other words, going to pieces.

The Ballad and Communal Poetry. 55

objective mask and the prevailing intellectual bias in emotion, are the
chief marks of poetry to-day. Other poetry is regarded as childish, a
fad, and the lover of ballads is often drawn by this contempt into an
admiration of his own ware which he can hardly justify, while critics
go on rebuking him as for " the love of little maids and berries," for
a go-cart passion, and feel a sincere concern for the stunting of his
better faculties. But the docile bairns of knowledge, as King James
called sensible scholars in his day, are of kinder heart. They know
that to assert the communal origins of poetry is not to degrade the
poet, but rather to dignify him. To follow poetry back to that abo-
riginal wildness, that ecstasy of the horde, first utterance of unac-
commodated man, is not a study that need deafen its student to the
charm and melody of art. We search for poetry before the poet,
somewhat in the spirit of Donne's fine conceit:

I long to talk with some old lover's ghost,
Who died before the god of love was born.

We find it in the throng. From this dancing throng came emotion
and rhythm, the raw material of poetry. The poet added thought.1
When Schopenhauer2 complains of modern poetry that thought is
too often subservient to rime, he says in other words that even now
the artist cannot free himself from that haunting cadence of the
throng. Mr. Spencer says 3 that "cadence is the commentary of the
emotions upon the propositions of the intellect," — surely an inversion !
Our modern poetry is the commentary of the intellect upon the
cadence of the emotions. Primitive man had emotions, and emo-

1 Gerber (I, 50) calls poetry "die Kunst des Gedankens."

2 Weltals Wille u. Vorst., II, 489.

8 Origin and Function of Music, as above, p. 232. One is tempted to tamper
a little with Goethe's (Dauer im Wechsef)

" Danke dass die Gunst der Musen

Unvergangliches verheisst :
Den Gehalt in deinem Busen
Und die Form in deinem Geist,"

and to search for that muse who once presided over communal emotions and
wrote pandemos after her proper name.

56 F. B. Gummcre.

tions tend to converge ; his poetry was communal. Modern men
have thought, and thought tends to divergence of paths. We see
the poet

8' oSovs f\06vra. <£porri'8os irAavois,

but behind this vividly lighted I or Thou or He of modern poetry
lurks in shadow the We of that early throng. In the ballads one
comes closer to this presence ; one feels it, but one cannot clearly

see it.

F. B. GUMMERE.

COTTON MATHER AND AUGUST HERMANN FRANCKE.

IT is probably not too much to say that the following record of
the relations of Cotton Mather to one of the founders of German
Pietism contains the earliest expression of sustained interest, on the
part of Americans, in German affairs.1

It covers with more or less fullness the period from 1709 to 1724,
or the larger part of the last third of Cotton Mather's life.2 The
material I have collected, apart from matter already printed, from
Mather manuscripts preserved in the Library of the American
Antiquarian Society at Worcester (AS), the Congregational Library
at Boston (CL), and the Library of the Massachusetts Historical
Society (MHS). I give it here in chronological order.3

1 Still earlier, but sporadic only, are manifestations of interest in the Thirty
Years' War, contained in such passages as the following. John Winthrop, Jr., to
his father, London, Apr. 16, 1631 : " The King of Sweden p^vaileth in Germany,
he hath lately given Tilly an overthrow wth a small army agt his mighty armey.
Some say he received some light wounds in pursuite of Tilly, & had his horse
slaine under him." Coll. of the Mass. Hist. Soc., Fifth Series, VIII, 30. Edward
Howes to John Winthrop, Jr., London, June 21, 1636: "... the plague, sword,
& famine looks with a gashly aspect vpon Germany." Ibid., Fourth Series, VI, 500.
Cf. also Th. Prince, Annals of Arew England, s. a. 1631 : " In Germany, This being
a most critical Year, wherein the Settlers of New-England, as well as all Europe,
were greatly concerned," etc.

2 Cf. Samuel Mather's Life of Cotton Mather, Boston, 1729, p. 81: "From the
Year 1712 to his Death, he had a free Correspondence with a Gentleman, at
Glaucha near Hall in the Lower Saxony, a Gentleman in whom I know not which
is greatest, whether his shining Goodness, sincere unaffected Piety and miraculous
Charity ; or else his \t\y great Learning ; I mean Dr. FRANCKIUS; one of whose
pleasant long letters to Dr. MATHER is printed in Pietas Hallensis." The authen-
ticity of these dates seems doubtful; cf. Mather's letter to Boehme of May 15,
1718.

8 It does not seem that the biographers either of Mather or of Francke have
been duly aware of the relations of the two men with each other. Even in
G. Kramer's Beitrdge zur Geschichte August Hermann Francke1* no light is shed
on this subject.

58 Kuno Francke.

1709. Mather's Diary (AS).

Dec. 9: " My Intention was, to lodge these Treatises1 in ye Hands
of many Ministers, throughout ye country. I represented ye Meth-
ods of piety proposed in these Essayes, as being ye new American
pietism. I shall also endeavour to send these things unto Dr.
Franckius, in Saxony."

1711. Mather's Diary (AS).

Mar. 12-13: "Yea, I would send my Orphano-trophium & some
other such things, with a present of Gold, as far as ye Lower
Saxony, for ye use of ye University, & ye Orphan-house there."
Mar. 25: "When I send unto Dr. Franckius in the Lower Saxony,
I would enclose a present of Gold, for his Orphan-house, which may
be to the value of four or five pounds in that Country."
Apr. 7: "Having received a collection of good and great Things
doing of later years in Germany, (excellent Advances of ye king-
dome of God,) I think it may not only glorify God, in ye praises of
His people, but also animate ye like Things among ourselves, to
publish it unto ye countrey." 2

Nov. 10: "I am again writing to ye University of Hall in ye Lower
Saxony j sending a present of Gold for ye Orphan-house there. I
would move translating some English Books of piety, into their own
Language."

1714. Francke's letter to Mather of Dec. 19, published, in an English
translation,3 by Boehme* in Part III of the English Pietas
Hallensis, London, 1716.

p. i f.: '•'•Reverend Sir, It was the first of April, 1713, when I
receiv'd your Letter, dated the 10* of January iji2,5 in the West-

1 The Heavenly Conversation and Dust and Ashes.

2 It is strange that the entry of May 28, 1711, does not contain a mention of
a letter of Mather's to Francke which is referred to in Francke's letter of Dec. 1 9,
1714, as bearing that date. This seems to have been the first communication sent
by Mather to Francke.

* Some passages in the original Latin are inserted in Mather's Nuncia Bona,
pp. 9-1 1.

4 For this man, the chief promoter of German Pietism in England and intermedia-
tor between Francke and Mather, cf. Jocher's Allg. Gelehrten-Lexicon, 1, 1 170; also,
H. E. Jacobs, History of the Lutheran Church in the United States, pp. 143 f.

6 Since the year 1712 of Mather's Diary is lost, our only information about this
letter from Mather's side is the entry of Nov. 10, 1711.

Cotton Mather and August Hermann Francke. 59

1714. Indies y together with the Packet of Books, and the Piece of Gold
accompanying them: But as for those you sent me the 28th of
May, 1711, (the Copy whereof I find also inclosed in the Packet
just mentioned) they are not come to my Hands. Both your Letters
have been very acceptable to me, not only on Account of the Present
of Money and Books, so unexpectedly sent to our Orphan-house
from the remote Parts of the West-Indies ; but especially, because
I perceived you are of the Number of those, (of which, God be
prais'd, I know not a few) who make it their Business to promote
the Honour and Glory of God on all Occasions. . . . And thence
it is, that the Encouragement you give me . . . hath wonderfully
excited both myself and my Fellow-Labourers, to extol the unspeak-
able Goodness of God on that Account."

There follows a detailed description of the various institutions
established by Francke at Halle and of the methods pursued in
maintaining them. Then

p. 57: "I have in my Hands a Letter, dated at Boston July 12, 1687,
and writ by one Crescentius Mather^ to John Leusden, heretofore
a famous Philologer at Utrecht in Holland. I suppose the Writer
to be one of your Relations. In this Letter he mentions one John
Eliot, and his unwearied Labours, in spreading Christian Knowl-
edge among the Heathens there. He speaks likewise of some
entire Congregations, made up of such Persons as were gained
over to our Holy Religion by the Diligence of that Labourer. All
which I have read with singular Satisfaction, and wish to be fuller
inform'd of the present State of all such Endeavours as have a
Tendency that Way. "

p. 59: "As for the charitable Presents you have been pleased to
bestow on our Hospital here, (though the first of the two you men-
tion is not come to my Hands), I am, Reverend Sir, unfeignedly
thankful, and beseech you to accept of the Treatise here inclos'd,2
as a small Token of my Candour and Gratitude. I assure you, that
from the Time I have received your Letters, frequent mention hath
been made of your Name in my Applications to the Lord, and hope

1 Cotton Mather's father.

2 I have been unable to find any trace of this treatise. The Harvard Univer-
sity Library possesses six manuscript copies of theological lectures delivered by
Francke between 1705 and 1714; but these can hardly be meant here.

60 Kuno Francke.

1714. I shall not be wanting in so Christian a Duty, even hereafter. And
I do most heartily intreat you, that, according to your Promise, you
would reciprocally shew the same Christian Favour to me, and to
my Fellow-Labourers in the Work of the Lord: The Consequence
whereof will be, that at so vast a Distance of Places, our Hearts
will be, nevertheless, more and more united into [60] one; till we
shall see one another in these celestial Mansions, £rv. Which, that
God would grant us, for the Sake of our common Saviour, JESUS
CHRIST, is the hearty Wish of, frc."

1715. Letter by Mather, without date or address, but undoubtedly
a copy of a letter sent to Boehme (AS).

" It was a great consolation of God, that I received, when I was
favoured with your most obliging Letters, & those of ye Incom-
parable Dr. Franckius that accompanied ym, & ye most accept-
able Treatises which were bright Satellits to yra. The amiable
piety breathing in your excellent writings, has endeared you with
me beyond expression; and by ye communications which I have
made thereof, your endearment unto other Servants of God in this
countrey, is what, "I hope, you will take pleasure to find me mention-
ing. . . . Happening to be just now in some uncommon Hurries,
my Letters to my Excellent Franckius are more unpolished &
unfinished than otherwise they should have been. However, such
as they are, I leave ym & ye packetts in which I have enclosed
ym, open for your perusal, and I entreat that when you have perused
ym, you would seal ym up, and send ym away, with ye bitts of gold
in ym, unto ye marvellous man, unto whom I have directed ym. In y*
packetts, there are some Duplicates; and on such, you will find your
dear Name Inscribed, that you may reserve them for your own Dis-
posal. . . . While I was in ye midst of these Thoughts your Letters,
with those of my admirable Franckius, arrived unto me, and with an
agreeable Surprise give me a confirmation of my Apprehensions."

1715. Mar. 1 8. Mather's Nunria Bona e Terra Longinqua. A
Brief Account of some Good and Great Things Adoing for the
Kingdom of God in the Midst of Europe. Boston (Samuel
Gerrish), pp. 13. 12°.

p. I : " Sir. SUCH is the Candor to be found in Persons of a Supe-
riour Character on the other side of the wide Atlantick, that they
will admit us Obscure Americans into Correspondencies with them;

Cotton Mather and August Hermann Francke. 61

1715. from which our Informations of such Things, as are most worthy
to be Known, and perhaps also our Opportunities to do Good in the
World, may be very much befriended, and enlarged. ... By the
Mediation of that Excellent Person Mr. Antony William Boehm,
late Chaplain to Our Prince George of Denmark, One of Your
Country-Men, hath been lately honoured with very Copious Letters
from that Admirable and Illustrious Person, the Professor Franckius,
and his Collegues, at Hall in the Lower Saxony; which enable
him to give You the Refreshment of Good News from a Far Coun-
try. [2] Dr. Franckius is a Person truly Wonderful for his vast
Ertidition; but much more so for his most shining Piety ; and yet
more so for his most peerless Industry ; and most of all so, for the
Astonishing Blessing of God upon his Undertakings to advance
His Kingdom in the World.

"Were there any Hazard of his having a Sight of the Letter, where-
in I do this Justice to him, I might fear my Venerable Friend, who
for ever breathes nothing but the deepest Annihilations of himself,
would with Displeasure call to me, Ignem auferto. But I cannot
suppose any Copy of this Paper ever will reach unto him.

"Of this Great Man, who yet lies for ever in the Lowest Humility,
and will know nothing but Self-abasements, a Gentleman * writes
me this brief and just Account : ' Professor Franck is the Wonder
of Europe for the vast Projects he has laid for Religion and Learn-
ing, and his Success in Executing of them. Whoever considers
what he has done in the Compass of about Thirty Years past,
would compute it to be the Labour of One hundred and Fifty
Years, under a Succession of as able Men as himself. He has
such an art in recommending his Great Designs, that there is scarce
a Protestant Prince in Europe that is not, as it were Tributary to
him ; and some even of the Romish Princes have been allured by
his Charitable Charms.' "

There follows a detailed account of the Franckian establishments
at Halle, based upon the account given by Francke himself. Mather's
just appreciation of the importance of these undertakings is shown
in the passage,

p. 9: " The World begins to feel a Warmth from the Fire of God,
which thus flames in the Heart of Germany, beginning to extend

1 Boehme ?

62 Kuno Francke.

1715. into many Regions; the whole World will e're long be sensible
of it ! "

Oct. 2. Letter from Mather to Boehme (AS).

" Several Months are passed, since by way of return for ye Favours,
which accompanied those of our dear Franckius, I addressed you
with a large Number of packetts, which had in y«» some scores of
American Treatises, besides a few small presents of Gold, unto ye
Orphano-tropheum. All which, I hope, have long since reached
you. I am extremely desirous of maintaining a correspondence
with a person of your excellent Spirit & Intention; And therefore
you must give me leave to lay hold as frequently as I can on oppor-
tunities to entertain you, with such Books of piety as are published
in our countrey; In which, perhaps, you will find something of ye
Spirit of that vital Religion which you have so wisely chosen to
cultivate & Inculcate. . . . My Request therefore is, That you
would please, to disperse these little engines of piety,1 as fast & as
far as you can. Some of yra, to our Invaluable Friends at Hallj
some of ym, to ye Malabarian Missionaries; And if you can do it,
some of ym into France.""

1716. Mather's Diary (CL).

Mar. 7. (He casts a retrospect over his former life and men-
tions among the blessings with which it has been graced)

" My correspondencies abroad, especially with the universities of
Glasgow, & of Glaucha? and giving me, tho' I am a sorry and an
obscure creature, a Name among ye great men of ye Earth."
Mar. 8: "Is there no possibility, for me, to find ye Time, that I
may contrive a System of the Sciences, wherein they shall be
rescued from vanity & corruption . . . ? If I see, that I cannot
obtain the leisure for it, I will address my Friends in the Frederician
University." 8

Apr. 19: "Quaere, whether ye Marvellous Footsteps of ye Divine
Providence p,4 in what has been done in ye Lower Saxony, have not

1 Copies of the Lapis excisus.

2 Suburb of Halle.
* Halle University.

4 Allusion to Francke's Segensvolle Fussstapfcn (1701-1709).

Cotton Mather and August Hermann Franckc* 63

1716. such a voice in ye World, that I may do well to think of some
farther methods, to render it more sensible unto these American
Colonists."

Apr. 27: "I will make a present unto our poor Colledge1 of certain
Books, that are of great Improvement & Influence in ye famous
Frederician University, & of a Tendency to correct ye present
wretched methods of education there; As, ye works of, Arndt, and
Franckius, and Langius, and Boehm." *

June 6. Letter from Mather to Boehme (AS).

" Reverend Sr. Your Letters, dated about Ten Weeks ago, accom-
panied with our dear ZiegenbalgK's^ and a most obliging present
of Books, have arrived unto me, and are as cool waters to a Thirsty
soul. ... I rejoice to find the Magnalia Christi Americana fallen
into your hands ; And I verily believe, ye American puritanism to
be so much of a piece with ye Frederician pietism, that if it were
possible for ye Book to be transferred unto our Friends in ye
Lower Saxony, it would be . . .a little serviceable to their glorious
Intentions."

Mather's Diary (CL).

Aug. 2: "In ye astonishing things done at Hall in ye Lower
Saxony, under ye Influence of my incomparable Franckius, our
SAVIOUR has preached a loud & a living sermon, on His own
precious Text, ye Sixth of Matthew, and the thirty third. ... I
believe, I shall do a thing pleasing to Him, & a sensible service to
y« kingdome of God, if I preach a Sermon on this famous Text, in
the hearing of ye General Assembly of the province, and conclude
it with a relation of those marvellous occurrences."

1 Harvard College.

2 Of John Arndt's De vero Christianismo, the Harvard University Library
possesses an edition of 1704; but nothing in this copy points to Mather as its
original owner. Joachim Lange (cf. Jocher, II, 2249) is represented by his Medi-
cina Mentis of 1715, Boehme by a copy of his Discourses of 1717, marked "The
Gift of the Rev'nd Author to Harvard College, A.D. 1718." The Boston Public
Library has a copy of Boehme's translation of the Pietas Hallensis, marked in
Cotton Mather's handwriting, " Matheri, Cl. Boe'mi Donum."

8 The most prominent of the Franckian missionaries in Malabar. Cf. Jocher,
IV, 2196.

64 Kuno Francke.

1716. Oct. 9: " In and to my Family, I would cause to be read over, on
some Lord's-day evening, ye last Accounts of God providing for ye
Orphan-house, at Hall. And make remarks upon ye Story that
shall be Incentive to piety."

Oct. 1 6: "To have ye Footsteps of God, in what is done for ye
Orphan-house at Hall, read over in my Family, with agreeable
Remarks thereupon, may be of great use to my Domesticks."

Nov. 19, in a letter to John Winthrop (Coll. of the Mass.
Hist. Soc., Fourth Series, VIII, 425), Mather says:

" I have added a curiosity, Entituled, Pietas Hallensis; which if you
please to permit it, I should ask that it may Return, by some safe
hand, in a fortnight or two."

1718. Jan. 10, in a letter to Boehme (AS) Mather asks him to give

" the most sure & safe conveyance unto a packett, for our excellent
Ziegenbalg wherein I have left my letter open for your own perusal."

Mar. 20, Diary (MHS).

" I am writing to the famous Franckius and ye Frederician Uni-
versity."

May 15, in a letter to Boehme (AS), Mather speaks of the
" long, long time " he has not heard from him, refers to his
gifts for Ziegenbalg, then :

" But what I have now principally to request of you, is, that by your
mediation, there may be again convey'd a small testimony of an
American Remembrance for ye Orphan-house at Glaucha. Tho' I
have had no letters from our Excellent Friends in ye Frederician
University, ever since that rich & long one, which you have, highly
to my satisfaction, translated & published, yet I take it for granted,
that our small civilities may still be seasonable & acceptable to
ym. I am now gott into ye way of doing what little I can do for
the children of God, & His Kingdome there, by Bills of Exchange ;
And such a Bill I now send unto Mr. Henry Newman; for ye sum
of Ten pounds sterling; with my Directions that he wait upon you,
and that by your methods in concert with him, it may be transmitted
in what specie & manner you think fit unto our dear Dr. Franckius,
for the use of his Orphan-house."

Cotton Mather and August Hermann Francke. 65

1718. Mather's Diary (MHS).

May 16: "I am now again sending to the Lower Saxony, for ye
Encouragement of what is doing at Hall, by my dear Franckius
there. I must gett some Assistence of Money here, on ye occasion."
July 3 : " I am sending to my Friends in the Frederician University
many things that may have a Tendency to serve ye Kingdome of
God. Among the rest a copy of my letter to Malabar may be
of some good consequence."

Oct. 25: " For my Remittences to ye Orphan-house at Glaucha,
I gathered eight pounds of our money; for which Mr. Belcher
generously furnishes me with a Bill of Ten pounds Sterling; sent
by me now, to Mr. Boehm & Mr. Newman."

1720. May 4, in a letter to John Winthrop (Coll. of the Mass. Hist.
Soc., Fourth Series, VIII, 439), Mather thanks him for pecu-
niary assistance in bringing out his Coheleth.

"In this publication I have had the Experiment of my dear
Franckius renew'd unto me. For, having prepared the Treatise,
but being at an utter loss how to publish it, Just Then your Bounty
arrived."

May 8, in a letter to Boehme (AS), he again laments over the
long time he has not heard anything of " the dear Brethren
in the Lower Saxony" sends half a dozen copies of his
Coheleth, and adds :

" I entreat you, that one or two thereof, may by your mediation reach
ye Frederician University."

Oct. 26, in a letter to John Winthrop (/. c., p. 446).

" My dear Franckius has taught me, to go on with useful under-
takings, and believe in a glorious CHRIST for the carrying of
them thorough, with seasonable Interpositions of His Almighty
Providence."

1721. Mar. 9, Diary (MHS).

" I intend to send some of my poor Treatises to ye Frederician
University."

66 Kuno Francke.

1721. Apr. 17, letter to John Winthrop (/. c., p. 448) :

" My admirable Franckius, bids me, proceed & prepare, things to
serve the Kingdome of God."

1724. June 25, Diary (MHS).

" I am this week writing Letters to my dear Franckius, & ye
Professors in ye Hallensian University."

This seems to be the last evidence of any intercourse between
Cotton Mather and August Hermann Francke. It is interesting
to note that the sons of the two men, Samuel Mather and Gotthilf
A. Francke, continued the relations established by their parents.
In 1733 Samuel Mather published and dedicated to the Harvard
authorities a Vita B. Augusti Hermanni Franckii (Typis Samuelis
Kneeland et Timothei Green, pro Thoma Hancock, Bostoni Nov-
Anglorum), the manuscript of which had been sent to him by the
younger Francke. In the preface, page Hi, he speaks in the follow-
ing manner of his German friend:

" Mihi transmissa fuit vita per Filium celeberrimi Franckii, Amicum
mihi desideratissimum, qui, sicut in variis Negotiis, in Doctrina
etiam ac Virtutibus amplissimis Patretn sequitur, et passibus
aequis. Magnopere me delectat, Fratrem meum pretiosum nimis,
Patrem suum Patris mei Amicum dilectissimum beatum praedicandi
inter Nov-Anglos sic praebuisse occasionem."

It may be added that Francke's example had an unquestionable
influence upon another American worthy of the early part of the
eighteenth century, George Whitefield, the founder of the famous
Bethesda College near Savannah. In his pamphlet, A Continuation
of the Account of the Orphan- House in Georgia, Edinburgh, 1742,
Whitefield mentions Francke in the following manner (p. 17) :

" God can help us in Georgia, as well as he helped Professor Franck
in Germany.'1'1 p. 19: " Professor Franck met with unspeakably
more contempt and calumny [than I] whilst he was building the
Orphan-House in Germany. He began very low, and left behind
him an Orphan-House which contains now, if I mistake not, 2 or
3000 Students, notwithstanding the erecting it was attended with
as many Improbabilities as this in Georgia. He has been dead

Cotton Mather and August Hermann Francke. 67

about 14 or 1 6 Years. His Son now succeeds him in the care of the
Orphan-House; I have had the Pleasure of corresponding with
him. An Account of this Orphan-House was printed in his Life-
Time. It has been very strengthning and beneficial to my Soul;
and in Hopes that it may do Good to others, I have annexed some
Extracts out of it to this Continuation of my Accounts, and have
marked such particular Paragraphs as I think are more peculiarly

applicable to my present Circumstances." *

KUNO FRANCKE.

1 The extracts from the Pietas Hallensis that follow are from a translation
"printed in Edinburgh in the Year 1727, in order to promote the Erecting of an
Orphan-house in that City, which since has been happily effected " (p. 26).

ON ANGLO-FRENCH AND MIDDLE ENGLISH AU FOR
FRENCH A BEFORE A NASAL.

AMONG other things contained in Professor Karl Luick's interest-
ing Beitrage zur englischen Grammatik (Anglia, XVI, 451-511)
is a discussion of the Middle English au and its later history in words
corresponding, for instance, to modern English aunt, haunt, lamp,
danger, chamber, which in many respects is similar to views expressed
by me in a paper prepared for the meeting in commemoration of
Friedrich Diez at New York in March, 1894, and read in part at that
meeting, but never printed.1 Inferior as that paper was in several
respects to Professor Luick's work, it yet contained some considera-
tions which, in more or less modified form, it may be well to present
here. I may also add a few other remarks. Briefly stated, my con-
clusions were that the Middle English au in the words in question
was or soon became in the prevalent pronunciation a true diphthong;
that it afterwards lost its labial element by absorption in the follow-
ing m or n, but, if the consonant was n, only when a following con-
sonant was pronounced, the absorbing power of the n being due to
its u quality.

Let us first consider how this diphthong might have come into
existence. The Old French a, it may be safely assumed, was of a
somewhat palatal nature, resembling modern French a in patte (this
sound I write d).2 In native English words, such as land, lamb, the
variation in spelling between a and o points to a pronunciation oY a as
a back vowel, like Sweet's low-back-wide, rounded (o) or unrounded
(d), as probably in frequent use. The u quality or resonance 3 of Eng-

1 Cf. also Mod. Lang. Notes, VII, 416.

2 Compare the history of Latin a in French, and also G. Paris, Extraits de la
Chanson de Roland, 5th ed., § 6.

8 I say this rather than labialized « because I wish to allow for a possible
organic difference at the back of the mouth; u is a back vowel as well as a labial
vowel; compare the varieties of /.

70 E. S. Sheldon.

lish n (at least after back vowels) was probably not so energetic in
its action as the labial quality in m, either in developing the u glide
before it, or later in absorbing such a glide ; but both with n and
with m such a development may have been aided, in the case of
persons whose native speech was English, when they began to hear
frequently, and themselves to use, many French words. Under the
influence of native habits of speech, such speakers, beginning such
syllables as those that concern us with the French d or a more or
less successful imitation of it, may then have reverted to their own
d (or o) as the voice glided on to the n or rather nu. We may sup-
pose that some said, for example, dnut, others dn"t, and others ddnut
or aonut. Hence a diphthong du or au is an easy result, coming in
the first place from a mispronunciation of French words by English
speakers, and naturally appearing in both Middle English and Anglo-
French. The diphthongal pronunciation probably soon became the
usual one. It is easy to see how, allowing for the strong influence
of the traditional French spelling, and also for the habits of Anglo-
French scribes who wrote u or o for French close o (in England at least
sounded as #), we can explain all the spellings mentioned by Behrens
(Beitrdge zur Geschichte der franz. Sprache in England, pp. 77, 78).
both for the words from French and for similar native words ; and we
can see why, though both classes of words have a variable spelling,
there is so little confusion.1

There seems to be no reason for introducing nasality as a factor
into the process either of the development or of the later loss of u*

1 Can a similar explanation be offered when aun or aum, instead of an, am,
appears in other places where Romance and Germanic speech came into contact?
For Rhaeto-Romance dialects the somewhat palatal quality of a is indicated by the
palatalization of preceding c and g. For aun in France, see Neumann, Laut- u.
Flexionslehre des Altfranz., p. 14. Notice also the words of Behrens in Zeitschrift
fur franz. Sprache u. Lift., XIV, Referate u. Rezensionen, p. 32: " Nach Fleury s. 24
lautet dort [im nordlichen Teile des Departement de la Manche] en heute = a,
urspr. an dagegen = portug. So."

a Except in so far as this may be a reason for greater length of the vowel in
England, and thus may explain why no u was developed between a and other con-
sonants than m, n in words from French. If the n was the guttural nasal the vowel
perhaps regularly remained short; cf. ten Brink, Chaucer s Sprache u. Verskunst.
§70-

On Anglo-French and Middle English au for a. 71

If the French a was ordinarily a, then the French a may be sup-
posed to have been ordinarily nasal a, and not, as now, what may be
called nasal a. (This may also make it easier to understand why in
so much of Old French e and a were confused in the same sound.)
It does not appear that nasality of French vowels exercised any influ-
ence on the Middle English resulting sounds ; French en, em have
regularly developed like oral e, and so it is with all the other vowels.
In English range, rank, tamper, taunt, of course the English basis
was a, the words coming from or having been influenced by a form
of French which gave to en the sound of an. In the case of tawny I
suspect the influence of a later French pronunciation tane, at a time
when a had acquired the modern sound (nasal a). It is highly
probable that vowel nasality, which is now common, though often
slight, in both England and America,1 existed also in Middle Eng-
lish, and that therefore there was nothing very strange or remarkable
to an Englishman about French nasality, which may not have been
then so strong as it is now; we must remember that the consonant n
or m was also pronounced after the nasal vowel.

I see no sufficient reason for assuming that no diphthong existed
in words like lamp, sample. The pronunciation with long a in sample,
example (cf. ample with <z), seems to me a very modern and by no
means universal development from older short ce, mp having regu-
larly caused the short sound to appear before it, even though the
diphthong was at an early period present. There can be no doubt
of the early diphthong in vamp, where I believe all speakers pro-
nounce short a.

It still seems to me best to ascribe the reduction of au to a before
n followed by another consonant to an absorption of the u in the nu,
the loss of the u quality in nu coming later.2 We can hardly assume

1 Cf. Sweet, Primer of Phonetics, p. 68 (§ 180); and Dialect Notes, I, 24.

2 Perhaps «» exists now as much as it ever did, occurring in some syllables with
vocalic «, and in others with n following a back vowel, n after a front vowel
having a similar raising influence, tending to produce an * glide. In modern
English pronunciation some speakers do not always diphthongize "long o" and
"longrt." This is the case with me, but I have diphthongs in both cases when
the vowel is stressed and a pause follows the syllable, especially if the vowel is
final or before a nasal, as in so, a (name of the letter), tone, fane. Compare the

72 E. S. Sheldon.

both steps to have been taken at once ; such phonetic changes are
generally assumed to take place one at a time.1 It seems to me also
very doubtful whether nu after a diphthong ending in u could have
lost its u quality, unless there was a strong pull, so to speak, towards
palatal quality on the other side of the n, which is, generally speak-
ing, not the case (the commonest following consonant is /, which can
be either labialized or palatalized). But if the nu could thus lose its
u quality, we should then have aun where au should apparently de-
velop as before a consonant which exerts no special influence, like /;
compare haughty. This is, however, not the case when the follow-
ing consonant is retained, as in aunt, and it is, I believe, in the pres-
ence of this final consonant combined with the n that we are to seek
the real cause of the absorption (or at least disappearance) of the u,
or of the reduction of au to a. The greater number of sounds, the
greater organic action called for in the same syllable, combined with
the not very strong absorptive power of the n", it seems to me,
strengthened the effect of nu and caused the absorption, which the
latter, when a following consonant was not present, was not able
to produce alone. Hence the difference in the development of lawn
as compared with aunt. Considerations of sentence stress and pos-
sibly resulting double forms for the same word may also be appealed
to, and, though I too think the influence of the spelling is the main
cause for the sound y often heard in the less familiar words now
spelt with au,2 yet it is conceivable that au under sentence stress,
aided perhaps by a zweigipflige Aussprache, might have been retained
long enough to produce y. And if we consider cases like acton, with
its early reduction of original au to a, faucet, when pronounced with
short ce (see the forms in the Oxford Diet?), the vulgarisms darter, sarce,

influence of early Germanic n, as still seen in German binden, gebunden, compared
with kelfen, geholfen, and corresponding words in English.

1 I find the same difficulty with Luick's assumption (p. 493) that aux became
"zunachst" df\ it may be difficult to determine what the intermediate form was,
but there surely must have been one.

2 Only in the less familiar ones ; not, except in cases which are strongly under
suspicion of a special dialect development, in aunt, the most popular of all these
words. Compare in this connection Anglia, VII, 236, no. 13, for a pronounced
apparently as 3 : "Nauncy, dawnse, awnt, Chawmberlin (Tidewater, Virginia . . . )."

On Anglo -French and Middle English au for a. 73

sarcer, sarcy, sassage, for daughter, sauce, etc., mentioned by Walker
in the Principles of English Pronunciation (prefixed to his dictionary),
§ 218, and the vulgarism, less closely connected with standard Eng-
lish, 'kase (keiz or kez) for because (which, as only local, need not per-
haps be taken into account at all), we must perhaps admit that
nothing but considerations of accent can explain them.

But the explanation offered above for aunt as compared with lawn
is not so obviously applicable to dissyllabic forms like saunter; where
the / is in the next syllable. We can urge for these the analogy of
derivative and inflexional forms like haunter, haunting, which would
naturally keep the vowel of the primitive form, and we can also see
that the following unaccented syllable is even a direct help to shorten-
ing the accented one that precedes. Compare the greater length of
/ in build alone or before a pause as compared with the shortening
of / in builder, building, build it, or the long au sound in count, which
is noticeably less long in counting-house, where house is much less
strongly accented than count,1 and many other similar cases.

I have a few remarks to add on some possible cases of absorption
of the final u of a diphthong, and some additional cases, not all of
which were in my own earlier list of such cases of absorption, but
have been noted since. First I will call attention, for ha(u)lm (by
which word shawm may have been influenced ; both are merely book-
words to me) to the words " [or hame, or halm . . . ] " in Johnson's
Diet., ed. of 1755, s. v. haum. Professor Marsh tells me that in
Newport, Rhode Island, some old people pronounce the proper name
Almy as ymi, while others say eimi (with " long a" exactly like Amy) ;
the common pronunciation is celmi. Perhaps we should not add
Auchinleck, pronounced aflek (cf. also baffle)?

My list of not quite certain cases of absorption of u in eu con-
tained also the word leopard ' ; compare the spellings in Matzner's

1 The word house-breaker I have heard pronounced so that the first syllable
sounded like /ids (with short d), and, like some others present at the time, I at first
thought the word meant was horse-breaker.

2 Here I am reminded also of the spelling Aufrike {Africa) ; it may conceivably
be a case of au developed before a labial out of a. The spelling auf- for af- seems
to occur also in continental French; it may have been caused by confusion with
au from the Arabic article.

74 £• & Sheldon.

Worterbuch; the forms leupart and lepart, it may be mentioned, both
occur in the Oxford manuscript of the lioland (728, 733), cf. also
Old French liepart. If it were quite certain that jeu was the only
form in which jocum came through French into English, of course
jeopardy would be a clear case as Luick gives it, but jii, which was
also Old French, is indicated as one form by Middle English spell-
ings, and is it quite certain that a later pronunciation oijeu as dzo or
zo may not be the source of the modern pronunciation? If feoff '(cf.
Luick, p. 500) really is from an Old French form with pronounced
ieu followed by/, then it can be considered a case of absorption, but
this is far from being certain ; the spellings, and to be sure also the
pronunciation, may be due to the influence of fieu or of feuduni,
feodum, and the spelling feff seems to be about as old as that with eo
in English. We may notice also the proper names Leonard (cf. Old
French Lienart~), and compare Theobald vi\\h a pronunciation tib- and
the form Tybalt, which seems like libbard (leopard'), and corresponds
to French Tiebaitt, Tibaut ; also Leopold, "formerly [pronounced]
Kp'oLi" (Webster's International Diet., p. 1903), Teddy, the nickname
for Theodore, pointing with its / to a French origin, and finally the
place name Leominster (/em-~). Doubtless other proper names can be
found ; Bzlvoir, pronounced biV3(f), is mentioned by Beljame.1

A puzzling word is the proper name Geoffrey, Jeffrey. Is the e
sound instead of o in Jofrei, Jofroi due to a palatalizing influence
exerted by the preceding consonant when the syllable was still un-
accented ? Possibly it is worth while to mention the modern vulgar
jes(t") for just. The spellings Gefreid, Geifreid are in the Oxford
manuscript of the Roland (vv. 106, 3545).

Are, however, the cases with following ts and dz (sage, Beauchamp —
bltsym, etc.) possibly to be considered as cases of absorption (as I
formerly did consider them) ? In many of Luick's examples the earlier
sound in French appears to have been a palatal s, whence the sound s
developed in English, and we might say that the palatalizing action
took place while that earlier sound was still heard, and we might also
say that the / sound in machine and some other words is to be ex-
plained by the influence of modern French. But these arguments

1 In Etudes romanes dediles & Gaston Paris, p. 505.

On Anglo-French and Middle English au for a. 75

are not sufficient to explain all the examples, and it seems best to
adopt Luick's view that the loss of u before these sounds was due to
a conflict with the palatal element in the following sibilant, s or z.

How far similar laws can be shown for Old French it would be
interesting to examine. In many of the cases of variation between
au and a there seems clearly to be influence of a following labial.
One is reminded of such variant spellings as Guillaume, Guillame (cf.
for such instances in rhyme, Servois, Guillaume de Dole, p. xli, n. i),
evangilea.n& euvangile, diable and diauble, and the variants for Foerster's
Vaubagu in Erec, v. 4129 (4131 in the small edition; cf. also Paris
in Romania, XX, 150). See also Suchier, Aucassin u. Nicolete, 3d ed.,
p. 65 (no. 17), Apfelstedt, Lothringischer Psalter, §§ 9, 17, 30, 80,
Foerster, Lyoner Yzopet, §§ 9 (p. xxvi), 17, 79, 80, Chev. as deus espees,
p. xlviii, etc. Perhaps I shall return to this subject at some future

E. S. SHELDON.

THE FRENCH HISTORICAL INFINITIVE.

IN a dissertation, Der historische Infinitiv im Franzosischen (Berlin,
1888), I attempted to show that the Historical Infinitive in
French was not a continuation of the same construction in Latin.
This, as far as I know, is now acknowledged on all hands. Then
I sought to explain the French construction as a sort of transposition
into indirect discourse or narration of the Old French imperative
use of the infinitive with or de and the article (see Diez, Grammatik,
p. 917, or III, 211, of the third edition), the latter expression being
shortened from (or) rti a que de plus the article and infinitive
(Tobler, Vermischte Beitrage, I, 18, 19).

In a review published in Romania, XVIII, 204, Gaston Paris says:
" Pour 1'expliquer (i.e. cette construction), M. M. la rattache a 1'an-
cienne construction or de I'aler, or du bien faire, par une transition
qui m'est absolument inintelligible. Notons que, dans la construc-
tion avec or a sens imperatif, on trouve toujours 1'infinitif avec de
pre'ce'de' de 1'article, tandis qu'on ne trouve jamais Particle dans la
construction qu'dtudie 1'auteur. Cela me parait suffire a montrer
que ces deux constructions n'ont rien a faire ensemble (or du bien
faire s'explique pour M.M. par la reduction de la phrase complete:
or n't a que de bien faire, mais dans cette phrase 1'infinitif ne prend
pas d'article; j'y vois la re'duction de la phrase: or pensons (pensez)
du bien faire, de Faler, etc., dans laquelle 1'infinitif est habituellement
pre'ce'de' de 1'article)."

That I should have expressed myself so obscurely as to be unin-
telligible to a person of Gaston Paris's great perspicacity is a matter
of deep regret to me, and I can only hope that, if his attention is
again called to the subject, he will acknowledge that my explanation
is at least a conceivable one. As to the origin of the expression or
du bien faire, A. Schulze has already pointed out,1 in an article

1 Zeitschrift fur romanische Philologie, XV, 505, n.

7 8 P. B. Marcou.

devoted to this subject, that in the phrase or n't a que de, the article
is used with the following infinitive, so that Paris's objection to
connecting the two expressions falls to the ground. As to Paris's
explanation of or du bienfaire as a shortening of or pensons du bien
fairc, Schulze says (I.e., p. 506): " Dagegen erregt die an ihrer
Stelle vorgeschlagene [Auffassung] G. Paris' und Englanders Beden-
ken. Mig man prinzipiell von Ellipsen zu reden geneigt sein oder
nicht, der Beweis dafiir wird schwerlich erbracht werden konnen, dass
das Altf ranzosische — und von anderen Sprachen wird Gleiches
gelten — etwas zum Verstandnis irgend Wesentliches ohne angemes-
senen Ausdruck gelassen habe, dass in der alten Sprache nicht genau
gesagt wurde, was dem Redenden vorschwebte, nicht weniger und
nicht mehr. Eine Erganzung der anscheinend liickenhaften Wend-
ung or du faire halte ich aber auch deshalb fiir unthunlich, weil der
Sprechende selbst an die Person, die aufzufordern ware, offenbar
nicht denkt ; nur die H a n d 1 u n g, die zu vollziehen ist, schwebt
seinem Geiste vor, nur dass sie zu vollziehen sei, will er zum
Ausdruck bringen."

In spite of these objections, I think, on the whole, that Paris's
explanation of or du bienfaire is more probable than mine, though
both are conjectural merely. One meets or pensons du and the
simple or du used in exactly the same way, as far as can be seen, in
the same poem. That the speaker, when using or du, does not think
of the person who is to perform the act may be true, but for this
very reason, if he were in the habit of using or pensons du, the
pensons would soon become weakened in force as being by far the
less important of the two verbs in the clause, and might then easily
drop out.

Paris, as we have seen, objects further that the article is never
found with the historical infinitive, while it is always used with the
or du bienfaire construction, and that therefore the two constructions
can have nothing in common. In the first place the oldest case of the
historical infinitive that has been found (see Der historische Infinitiv
im Franzosischen, p. n), "et le senglier se couche, et cil du grater"
(Roman des Sept Sages de Rome, publid par Le Roux de Lincy,
Paris, 1838, p. 23), which belongs to the thirteenth century, has the
article, and, on the other hand, Diez (Grammatik, p. 917, or III, 211

The French Historical Infinitive. 79

of the third edition) gives, as Schulze observes, a case of or de . . .
without the article, so that we may well suppose that the article
was someumes used and sometimes not used with both construc-
tions, and that, as time went on, the historical infinitive without
the article prevailed. And then, too, even supposing these two
cases to be unreliable, the number of well-edited Old French texts
of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries is too small for us to be
able to argue that because a link in a chain of constructions is
missing it does not exist.

Schulze (Lc., p. 508), after declining to accept Paris's objections,
raises some of his own, which I do not despair of overcoming. He
says: "Doch kommen andere Schwierigkeiten hinzu. In der mit or
beginnenden imperativen Wendung liegt es, wie wir sahen, im Inter-
esse des Redenden, sich der auf bestimmte Personen nicht beziig-
lichen Verbalform, des Infinitivs, zu bedienen. Gerade dies scheint
mir beim historischen Infinitiv nie der Fall zu sein. Weder ist iiber
die Person, welche als Trager der durch den Infinitiv bezeichneten
Thatigkeit zu denken ist, je ein Zweifel moglich, noch kann irgend
einmal dem Erzahler daran liegen, in dem oben angedeuteten Sinne
sich der von bestimmten Personen absehenden Form des Verbs zu
bedienen. Weiter ist zu bedenken, dass der Infinitiv in der impera-
tivischen Redeweise nur in direkter Rede moglich ist, also stets auf
die unmittelbarste Gegenwart Bezug nimmt, was wiederum in der
Konstruction des historischen Infinitivs undenkbar ist. Hatte die
erstere Wendung diesem zum Vorbilde gedient, so ware als Zwischen-
glied mit Sicherheit eine Konstruktion zu erwarten, welche etwa
beim Anblick fliehender Feinde gestattete sich des Ausrufs Lcs
ennemis de s'enfuir ! zu bedienen. Und das ist nie erlaubt gewesen."
How, if I may ask, does Schulze know that this has never been
allowed? It so happens that in Spanish the development seems to
have been arrested just at the stage which Schulze is sure can never
have existed in French. As is well known (see Diez, Grammatik, p.
916, or III, 211 in the third edition) the infinitive is used in Spanish
affirmatively in the sense of an imperative. This infinitive in Span-
ish is more or less forcible according as it is used with or without the
preposition d. Diez quotes two cases without the preposition from
Don Quixote; here is another from Calderon :

8o P. B. Marcou.

Pues sufrir, temer, penar,
Corazdn, hasta tomar
For entero la venganza.

El pintor de su deshonra, act iii, scene 25.

With d we have first the common Spanish expression d ver, let us
see. Here is a case from Calderon which shows well the dative
form and connotation of the expression :

Don Luis. No hay que responder.

O d mi casa, 6 £ no ser mas amigos.

El pintor de su deshonra, act i, scene i .

Other examples might easily be given from Calderon and from
recent writers of this imperative use of the infinitive with d, which
seems to have driven out the imperative without a preposition which
is found in Don Quixote. Now in the opening scene of Calderon's
Alcalde de Zalamea, the infinitive with d is used in narration, describ-
ing what usually happens, and especially what is just about to happen.
The whole passage is worth quoting:

Soldado 2°. No muestres deso pesar,

Si ha de olvidarse, imagine,
El cansancio del camino
A la entrada del lugar.

Rebolledo. ± A que* entrada, si voy muerto?

Y aunque llegue vivo alia,
Sabe mi Dios si serd.
Para alojar; pues es cierto
Llegar luego al comisario
Los alcaldes i. decir
Que si es que se pueden ir,
Que dardn lo necesario.
Responderles, lo primero,
Que es imposible, que viene
La gente muerta; y si tiene
El concejo algun dinero,
Decir : " Senores soldados,
Orden hay que no paremos :
Luego al instante marchemos."

The French Historical Infinitive. 81

Y nosotros, muy menguados,
A obedecer al instante
Orden, que es en caso tal,
Para el orden monacal,
Y para mi mendicante.

El Alcalde de Zalamea, act i, scene I.

Adolf Kressner, who has edited this play, takes responderles and
decir as historical infinitives, though I suppose it would be barely
possible to make them depend on es cierto ; but nosotros . . . d
obedecer he would explain by supposing that marchamos is understood.
I do not think that marchamos d obedecer is Spanish ; one is forced,
it seems to me, to take this expression as a genuine, though perhaps
unique, case of the historical infinitive in modern Spanish. Rebo-
lledo tells what he expects they will be doing in a very short time,
but without any distinct reference to time ; it is very nearly the miss-
ing link which Schulze cannot find in French, but which may have
existed there nevertheless. A development almost exactly identical
with this process seems to have taken place in modern colloquial
French. In the Souvenirs dhm Matelot, by Georges Hugo (Nouvelle
Revue, 15 mai, 1895, p. 290), a quartermaster, after calling the roll
of the watch, says : " A se coucher qui n'est de quart ! " —"Let him
.who is not on guard go to bed," — the exact equivalent of the Span-
ish use of the infinitive with d for the imperative ; and in an article
entitled Entre Parisiens, and signed Maxime Parr, in the Petit
Journal pour Rire (N°. 436, 39e annee, p. 3), occurs this sentence :
"Et nous voila a rire et a hausser les epaules de concert," — a genu-
ine historical infinitive with d.1 As Theodor Kalepky, in an article
entitled Zum sogenannten historischen Infinitiv im Franzosischen? says,
it seems as if de before the historical infinitive in modern French
has lost whatever force it once had in Old French, and so the
people have, so to speak, recreated an historical infinitive of their

1 I find another case of an historical infinitive with d in a letter of Mme. de
Se"vigne to Mme. de Grignan (18 Sept., 1680): Le pere de Madame . . . est mort.
Un gros Allemand le dit k Madame a peu pres de cette sorte sans aucune pre"cau-
tion. VoiU Madame k crier, i pleurer, i faire un bruit etrange, a s'evanouir; . . .

2 Zeitschrift fiir romanische Philologie, XVII, 287.

82 P. B, Marcou.

own with a, which still has a strong dative, pointing force. Kalepky,
it seems to me, disposes, in this article, of Schulze's explanation of
the development of the French historical infinitive, and I do not
propose to discuss it here.

I will merely add a case of the historical infinitive with a in Italian,
from Ariosto, as Diez (Grammatik, p. 925, or III, 222 in the third
edition) mentions it only as existing " in der neueren Litteratur " :

Indi i Pagani tanto a spaventarsi,
Indi i Fedeli a pigliar tanto ardire ;
Che quei non facean altro che ritrarsi.

Orlando Furioso, xvi, 70.

Finally, certain phenomena in modern and Middle English, to
which my colleagues Professors Sheldon c*ncl Kittredge have called
my attention, may be mentioned here as showing a parallel tendency.
First, in both Middle and modern English we have certain exclamatory
adverbs used as finite verbs in vivid narration, a transition an Jogous
to that from the exclamatory or du . . . to the historical infinitive.

In the preface of K. Breul's Sir Gowther (Oppeln, 1886), we find,
p. viii: "up und andere adverbia finden sich nicht selten ohne ver-
balen Zusatz," and he gives two examples : " Pe foules up and song
on bonz," Lai le Fr. (Anglia, III, 419, 131) ; and "Gamelyn vp with
his staf, that he wol knew, and geite him in the necke, that he ouer-
threw," Gamelyn, 535.

To these may be added :

Whanne J>is was don J>is Pandarrus up a-noon,
To tellen in short, and forth gan for to wende.

CHAUCER, Troilus and Criseyde, ii, 1492-3 (2577-8), p. 93 F.

But Pandarus up and . . .

He straight a morwe onto his nece wente.

Id., Hi, 548-552 (339°-4)» P- 122 F.

This Pandarus up J>erwith and that be tyme
On morwe & to his necys paleys sterte.

Id., ii, 1093-4 (2178-9), p. 79 F. (reading of the Camb. MS.).

The French Historical Infinitive. 83

Likewise in modern English : x

" May 14. Saw five armed boats pulling towards us from Monte
Cristo. Out sweeps to protect convoy."-- The Autobiography of a
Seaman, by Thomas, tenth Earl of Dundonald, I, 95.

" Saw another vessel lying just within range of the forts ; — out
boats and cut her out, the forts firing on the boats without inflicting
damage." — Id., I, 97.

Thet last word pricked him like a pin,
An' . . . Wai, he up an' kist her.

J. R. LOWELL, Bigloiv Papers, The Courtin\

Then passages occur in Middle English which look as if imper-
ative expressions like "and now to fight" had become real historical
infinitives in narration. In Skeat's Chaucer, Troilus and Criseyde,
ii, 1. 1107-8, we read:

' By god ' quod he, « I hoppe alway bihinde ! '
And she to-laugh, it thoughte hir herte breste.

But Stoffel suggests that we should read to laughe, as historical
infinitive, and quotes other examples which establish the construc-
tion (see also Skeat's note, VI, 403, and cf. Kaluza, Engl. Stud.,

XXII, 287, 288).

P. B. MARCOU.

1 Cf. also the German " und er husch iiber den Graben," quoted by O. Behaghel
in Literaturblatt fiir germanische und romanische Philologie, 1895, co^ 335» an^
his reference there.

WHO WAS SIR THOMAS MALORY?

THAT a person so important in literary history as Sir Thomas
Malory should still remain a mere name is surprising. Yet
such seems to be the state of the case.1 Dr. Sommer, in his invalu-
able edition of the Morte Darthur (II, i, 2), remarks that "the name
' Malory ' occurs in Leland's time in Yorkshire, and is quoted in the
next [the seventeenth] century in Burton's ' Description of Leicester-
shire,' but no clue can be found to connect the author of the ' Morte
Darthur' with the bearers of his name." 2 Mr. Sidney Lee refers to
a Sir Thomas Malory of Kirkby Malory, Leicestershire, who, he says,
is too early, and to a Thomas (not Sir Thomas) Malory of North-
amptonshire (d. 1552), who is too late to be our author, and gives
up the problem.3 Professor Rhys, whose theories I shall discuss pres-
ently (pp. 97 ff., below), is inclined to regard Malory as a Welshman,

lfThe conjectural identification discussed in the present paper was made public
by the writer March 15, 1894, at a meeting held at Columbia College in honor of
Friedrich Diez (cf. Mod. Lang. Notes, April, 1894, IX, 253). It was put on record
by the writer in a brief article on Malory published, in 1894, in vol. V of Johnson's
Universal Cyclopedia (p. 498). In July, 1896, Mr. T. W. Williams suggested
(Atken&um, no. 3585) that the author of the Morte might be a " Thomas Malorie
miles " whom he had found mentioned in a document of the eighth year of Edward
IV, but concerning whom he had no information except the single fact furnished
by the document itself. Mr. Williams's interesting note will be discussed later
(pp. 88 ff., below), when it will appear that his Thomas Malory and the writer's
are probably one and the same person.

2 " W. Burton, 'Description of Leicestershire,' ist. ed. 1622, 2d. ed. Lynn, 1777,
folio, p. 140, Thomas Malory ; p. 262, Sir Thomas Malory, knyght of Winwick,
Newbouldand Swinford, 19, 27." Sommer's foot-note. I have not seen Burton's
book and do not quite understand these entries. Dr. Sommer says nothing more
about them, obviously regarding them as of no consequence ; yet we shall find
that the second Malory mentioned would have repaid investigation.

8 Dictionary of National Biography, art. Sir Thomas Malory. Mr. Lee men-
tions "four families" named Malory as connected with the Midlands, but can find
no author for the Morte in any of them. These are: (i) that represented by
William Malore of Hutton Conyers; (2) that of Kirkby Malory, Leicestershire;

86 George Lyman Kit tr edge.

relying partly on a random assertion of Bale's, partly on a mistaken
etymology of the name; but he does not identify him with anybody in
particular. There is, then, at this moment, no candidate in the field,1
and if a Sir Thomas Malory can be discovered who fulfils all the con-
ditions required, such a person may reasonably be advanced as the
writer of the Morte Darthur, at least till some other claimant offers.
What the required conditions are, may be seen from the three places
in the work which mention the author :

(1) Caxton's preface, in which he says he has printed "after a
copye vnto me delyuerd, whyche copye Syr Thomas Malorye dyd
take oute of certeyn bookes of frensshe and reduced it in to
Englysshe." (Sommer, p. 3.)

(2) The concluding words of the last book : " I praye you all
lentyl men and lentyl wymmen that redeth this book of Arthur and
his knyghtes . . . j praye for me whyle I am on lyue that god sende me
good delyueraunce | & whan I am deed I praye you all praye for my
soule | for this book was ended the ix yere of the reygne of kyng
edward the fourth | by syr Thomas Maleore knyght as Ihesu helpe
hym for hys grete myght | as he is the seruaunt of Ihesu bothe day
and nyght | " (Sommer, p. &6i). These are obviously not the words
of Caxton, as Dr. Sommer takes them to be, but the words of
Malory himself.

(3) Caxton's colophon, which says that the book "was reduced
in to engylysshe by syr Thomas Malory knyght as afore is sayd 2 |
and by me deuyded in to xxi bookes chapytred and enprynted | and
fynysshed in thabbey westmestre the last day of luyl the yere of our
lord | M|CCCC|lxxxv | " (Sommer, p. 86 1).

From these passages it appears that any Sir Thomas Malory
advanced as the author of the Morte Darthur must fulfill the follow-
ing conditions: (i) He must have been a knight;3 (2) he must

(3) that of Walton on the Woulds, Leicestershire ; (4) that of Lichborough,
Northamptonshire. He refers to Nichols, Leicestershire, and Bridges, Northamp-
tonshire. See below, p. 90, n. 4.

1 Except as indicated above (p. 85, n. i).

2 That is, in Caxton's Preface.

3 "Sir priest" is out of the question, though some have absurdly suggested it
(see the reference in Sommer, II, 2, n. i).

Who was Sir Thomas Malory? 87

have been alive in the ninth year of Edward IV, which extended
from March 4, 1469, to March 3, 1470 (both included); (3) he must
have been old enough in 9 Ed. IV to make it possible that he
should hive written this work. Further, Caxton does not say that
he received the " copy " directly from the author, and his language
may be held to indicate that Malory was dead when the book was
printed. In this case he must have died before the last day of
July (or June),1 1485, and we have a fourth condition to be com-
plied with.

All these conditions (including the fourth, which can hardly be
regarded as completely imperative) are satisfied by a fifteenth-
century Warwickshire gentleman, an account of whose career, in
outline, has for many years been accessible to all in Sir William
Dugdale's Antiquities of Warwickshire? I refer to that Sir Thomas
Malory, knight, of Newbold Revell (or Fenny Newbold), who was
M.P. for Warwickshire in 1445.

(1) This Sir Thomas was certainly a knight.3

(2) He survived the ninth year of Edward IV, dying March 14,
1470 (10 Ed. IV). This fits the closing passage in the Morte
Darthur.

(3) He was quite old enough to satisfy the conditions of the
problem, for he was not under fifty-seven at the time of his death,
and he may have been seventy or above.

(4) He died some years before the Morte Darthur was published.
So far as can be seen, there is nothing against our ascribing the

Morte Darthur to this Sir Thomas Malory. He belonged to that
class to whom the Arthurian stories directly appealed : he was a
gentleman of an ancient house and a soldier.4 His ancestors had

1 As to the question whether hiyl in Caxton's colophon is July or June, see
Sommer, III, 336. The point is of no consequence in the present discussion.

2 I, 83. First published in 1656. 1 have used the second edition, revised by
the Rev. Dr. William Thomas, London, 1730.

8 Rot. Fin. 23 Hen. VI, m. 10 (Dugdale, I.e.).

* Cf. Caxton's Preface : " Many noble and dyuers gentylmen of thys royame
of England camen and demaunded me many and oftymes wherfore that I haue
not do made & enprynte the noble hystorye of the saynt greal and of the moost
renomed crysten kyng . . . kyng Arthur."

88 George Lyman Kittredge.

been lords of Draughton in Northamptonshire as early, apparently,
as 1267-68, and certainly earlier than 1285 ;* and the Malores had
been persons of consequence in that county and in Leicestershire
from the time of Henry II or Stephen.2 Sir Peter Malore, justice
of the common pleas (1292-1309) and one of the commission to
try Sir William Wallace,8 was a brother of Sir Stephen Malore, the
great-grandfather of our Sir Thomas, — that Sir Stephen whose
marriage with Margaret Revell brought the Newbold estates into
the family.4 Thomas's father, John Malore, was sheriff of Leices-
tershire and Warwickshire, Escheator, Knight of the Shire for
Warwick in the Parliament of 1413, and held other offices of trust.6
It is not to be doubted, then, that Sir Thomas received a gentle-
man's education according to the ideas of the fifteenth century,
which are not to be confounded with those of an earlier, illiterate
period. That he should learn to read and write French, as well as
to speak it, was a matter of course.

Sir John Malory seems to have died in 12 Hen. VI (1433 or
1434),° and Sir Thomas succeeded to the ancestral estates. We
have, however, some information about Sir Thomas in his father's
lifetime : when a young man he served in France, in the military
retinue of Richard Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, — a fact to which
I shall soon revert. In the twenty-third year of Henry VI (1445)
we find him a knight and sitting in Parliament for his county.7 Some
years later he appears to have made himself conspicuous on the Lan-
castrian side in the Wars of the Roses, for in 1468 " Thomas Malorie,

1 See p. 91, note.

2 See p 99.

3 See p. 103.

* Margaret Revell is sometimes made the wife of John, Stephen's son ; but
this is clearly an error. Dugdale (I, 82) contradicts himself. The settlement by
fine (1392) cited in Le Neve's note in Thomas's Dugdale (I, 83) shows that John's
wife was named Alice. There is much confusion here, but the matter is of no
consequence in the present argument.

6 Dugdale, I, 83.

6 I infer the date of his death from the year in which he no longer appears " in
commission for the peace " (12 Hen. VI). He had been a justice from 6 Hen. V
(see Dugdale, I.e.).

7 Dugdale, l.c.

Who was Sir Thomas Malory? 89

miles," is excluded,1 along with " Humphry Nevyll, miles,"2 and several
others, from the operation of a pardon issued by Edward IV. We know
nothing of the matter except this bare fact. Whether or not Malory
subsequently obtained a special pardon, cannot now be determined. If
he did not, we must suppose that he was relieved by the general amnesty
of i^6g,3 since, on his death in 1470, there seems to have been no

1 Wells Cathedral MSS., Liber Albus, III. £0.228, in Report on the MSS. of
Wells Cathedral, 1885 (Appendix to the Tenth Report of the Hist. MSS. Commis-
sion}, p. 184. The pardon is dated at Westminster, Aug. 24, anno regni 8°. For
this reference I am indebted to a letter of Mr. T. W. Williams, printed in The
Athenceum for July II, 1896, no. 3585, pp. 64, 65. Mr. Williams conjectures that
the Malory mentioned in the Wells MS. was the author of the Morte Darthur, but
has no further information about him. The brief article by the present writer
published in 1894 (see p. 85, n. i, above) had, very naturally, escaped his eye.
No one need hesitate to identify the " Thomas Malorie miles " of this pardon with
the Warwickshire gentleman whom we are now C9nsidering. There appears to
have been but one Sir Thomas Malory, knight, alive in England in 8 Ed. IV.
Whether the Thomas Malery mentioned among the " milites " in the list of noble-
men and gentlemen who accompanied Edward IV in his northern expedition in
1462 (Three Fifteenth-century Chronicles, ed. Gairdner, p. 157) was a knight or
not, it is impossible to decide, for the term milites is perhaps loosely used in
this record. The person meant may have been Thomas Malory, armiger, of
Cambridgeshire (see p. 96, n. i). In a second letter to The Athenaum (July
18, 1896, no. 3536, p. 99), Mr. Williams notes the fact that in Warkworth's
account of the Battle of Edgecote (July 26, 1469) "William Mallerye, squyere "
is mentioned as one of the slain " of the North party " (Warkworth's Chronicle,
ed. Halliwell, p. 7), i.e., the party who, under " Robin of Redesdale " (Sir John
Conyers of Hornby), fought against King Edward's forces. Mr. Williams is in
error, however, in identifying the general pardon mentioned by Warkworth with
the pardon preserved among the Wells MSS. The latter preceded the former by
rather more than a year. I suspect that the William Mallerye killed at Edgecote
belonged to the Studley Royal Malorys. Can he have been the second son of
William Malory, lord of Studley 1452-1475? There are grave difficulties (see
Walbran, Mem. of Fountains Abbey, II, i, 316-17, i.e., 216-17) in the way ; but these
Malorys were related to Sir John Conyers of Hornby, the leader of the revolt.

2 Sir Humphrey Nevil was beheaded in 1469 (Warkworth's Chronicle, ed. Halli-
well, p. 7). See for the events of these years Sir J. H. Ramsay, Lancaster and
York, II, 339 ff.

8 " And in the same yere made a proclamacyone at the Kynges Benche in West-
mynstre, and in the cyte of Londone, and in alle England, a generalle pardone
tylle alle manere of men for alle manere insurrecyons and trespasses." Wark-
worth, p. 7. As to Malory's coming under this amnesty, observe thai " Robin of

90 George Lyman Kittredge.

question as to the inheritance of his estate. Malory died, as has
been already noted, March 14, 1470, and, when Dugdale wrote
(about 1656), lay "buryed under a marble in the Chappell of St.
Francis at the Gray Friars, near Newgate in the Suburbs of
London." l He left a widow, Elizabeth Malory, who lived until
i48o,2 and a grandson, Nicholas, about four years of age. This
Nicholas was alive in 15 n.3 He died without male heirs.4

Redesdale " himself, on responding duly to Edward's general summons to the
gentry of Yorkshire to come to York and do homage, in 1470, found no difficulty
in making his peace with the king. (See Ramsay, II, 351.)

1 Dugdale, /.<:., referring to MS. Cotton. Vitell. F. 12 (which contains a "regis-
trum eorum, qui sepeliuntur in ecclesia et capellis fratrum minorum London ").
(Cat., 1802, p. 432.) In Stow's list of " the defaced [i.e., destroyed] monuments "
in this church I find: " Thomas Malory, Kt. 1470." Survey of London, ed. Strype,
1720, bk. iii, ch. 8, p. 134 (ed. 1754, I, 632).

2 The inquisitio post mortem on the estate of "Elizabetha quae f uit uxor Thomae
Malory militis " was taken in 20 Ed. IV (Calend., IV, 400). It declares the heir
to be Nicholas, son of Robert, son of Sir Thomas, and gives his age as thirteen
and more on Sept. 30, 1479. See Dugdale, Warwickshire, I, 83; Nichols, Leices-
tershire, IV, 362; Bridges, Northamptonshire, ed. Whalley, I, 603.

» See Nichols, IV, 233.

* For the descendants of Nicholas Malory in the female line see Dugdale, *I,
83; Bridges- Whalley, I, 604; Nichols, IV, 361, 364; Metcalfe, Visitations of
Northamptonshire, p. 12. The Malory genealogy is not easy to work out.
There are three branches of the family that seem more especially to concern us :
the Malorys of Kirkby Malory, Leicestershire; those of Walton on the Wolds,
in the same county ; and those of Draughton and Winwick, Northamptonshire,
and afterwards of Newbold Revell (Fenny Newbold), Warwickshire. The histo-
rians of the counties mentioned have collected much valuable material with regard
to these branches, and pedigrees will be found as follows : for the Kirkby
branch, in Nichols, Leicestershire, IV, 761 ; for the Walton branch, in Nichols,

III, 501; for the Draughton-Newbold branch, in Dugdale, Warwickshire, ed.
Thomas, I, 82; in Bridges, Northamptonshire, ed. Whalley, I, 604, and in Nichols,

IV, 364. These pedigrees, however, are not entirely consistent with each other,
or with the evidence elsewhere furnished by the antiquaries mentioned. But
some of the errors are easily corrected, and it is possible to establish many
steps with absolute certainty. The Kirkby and Walton Malorys unquestionably
descend from Anketill Malory, constable of Leicester, who resisted Henry II in
1173, DUt finally surrendered Leicester Castle to him in 1174 (see below, p. 99,
n. 3). The Kirkby line may be traced with hardly a break from this Anketill to
a Sir Thomas Malory of Bramcote, Co. Warwick, who died as early as 1412 (see
Nichols, III, 685; A. Gibbons, Early Lincoln Wills, pp. 57, no), leaving

Who was Sir Thomas Malory? 91

The most interesting of these biographical fragments is the asso-
ciation of Sir Thomas Malory with Richard of Warwick. Dugdale
states the fact in the following words : " Thomas ; who, in K. H. 5.

no male heir. The Walton line may be traced down to Henry Malory,
who died in 1553 (see Nichols, III, 234). The Uraughton line goes back,
in all probability, to a Simon Malore of " Draston " (i.e., Drajton) men-
tioned in a roll of 52 Hen. Ill, 1267-68 (see Rot. Select., ed. Hunter, p. 176);
but whether this Simon, or indeed, the Draughton branch at all, can be connected
with the other two branches seems doubtful. Nichols, who begins the Draughton
line with " Simon, lord of Drayton, 1277 " (IV, 364), makes this person a son of
Henry Malore, who is known to have been the son of Anketill, the Leicester con-
stable; but a 1277 Simon seems at least a generation too late to be Henry's son,
and Nichols adduces no evidence. The father of Sir Anketill Malore is usually
thought to have been that Richard who is the earliest bearer of the name Malore
yet discovered. This Richard held land in Swinford (Co. Leicester) in the time
of King Stephen (Nichols, II, 379; cf. Dugdale, II, 1066)., and in Northampton-
shire in the time of Henry II (Bridges-Whalley, I, 96). The Draughton Malorys
were lords of Swinford as early as the fourteenth century, but this, of course,
proves nothing. The fact that the Draughton Malorys bore different arms from
the Kirkby Malorys is also to be considered (see Nichols, IV, 361, 761). Alto-
gether, I see no means of tracing the Draughton Malorys farther back than
1267-68 (Simon), and no way of proving their connection with the Kirkby and
Walton families. It is to the Draughton family that our Sir Thomas belongs.
The pedigree of this line has never been made complete ; it is confused and im-
possible asset down by Nichols (IV, 364), and fragmentary in Dugdale (I, 82-3) and
Bridges-Whalley (I, 604). Beginning with the last male representative, Nicholas,
the grandson of our Sir Thomas, we may trace the following steps with tolerable
certainty: Nicholas, Robert, Sir Thomas, John (died 1433-34), Sir John (living
in 1377-78), Sir Stephen (lord of Winwick, 1316), Simon (dead in 1285-86).
This Simon was the father of Peter Malore, the justice, and seems to have had
a son Simon, who' was living, apparently, in 1329-30, and perhaps later (see Bridges,
I, 75, II, 29). This last Simon I make out to be a brother of Peter and Stephen.
Nichols, whose pedigree is at this point confusion worse confounded, puts him
down as Stephen's father (IV, 364), which is inconceivable. The Malorys of Lich-
borough (Northampton) appear to be connected with those of Draughton and
Newbold. They can be traced back (with some breaks) to Richard Malore, who
died in 1329-30. See Bridges-Whalley, 1,63,75,76, 234; Rot. Parl., VI, 397,
526 ; Wm. Campbell, Materials for Hist, of Reign of Henry VII, II, 187 ; North-
ampton and Rutland Wills (Index Library), p. 42 ; Descrip. Cat. of Anc. Deeds,
IF, 246 (B. 1934, 1939), 427 (B. 3661). There was also a family of Malorys of
Welton (Northampton) in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries (see Bridges-
Whalley, I, 97 ; Cat. Anc. Deeds, II, 150, 155, 159; A. Gibbons, Early Lincoln

92 George Lyman Kittredge.

time, was of the retinue to Ric. Beauchamp E. Warr. at the siege
of Caleys, and served there with one lance and two archers ; receiv-
ing for his lance and i. archer xx. li. per an. and their dyet; and for

Wills, p. 57). On the Malorys of Woodford (in the same county), see Visitations
of Northamptonshire, pp. 35, 36, 112, 113. For the Cambridgeshire Malorys see
below, p. 96, n. i. For the Malorys of Hutton Conyers and Studley Royal, York-
shire, see Visitation of Yorkshire, ed. Norcliffe, pp. 195, 196 ; Heraldic Visitation
of the Northern Counties, ed. Longstaffe, pp. 51, 52; and, in particular, Walbran,
Memorials of the Abbey of St. Mary of Fountains, II, i, 214-244 (314-344 by error
of pagination); cf. Depositions from York Castle, ed. Raines, pp. 75 ff., 210, 211.

There are scanty records of a family of Malorys settled in Bedfordshire at an
early date. In 4 Ed. Ill (1329-30) jurors find that "quidam Jolies Malory"
holds the manor of Magna Holywell, in this county, by inheritance from one
" Bertramo Malore quinto antecessore suo," to whom the Abbot of Westminster
had granted it after Henry III (Nov. 26, 1224) had granted the liberties of the
manor to the church of Westminster. (P/acita de Quo Warranto, Records Comm.,
pp. 61, 62.) This appears to carry the Bedfordshire Malorys back to about 1224,
and, in fact in 1225 (9 Hen. Ill) Alicia Mallore is on record in connection with
this manor, called " Holewest " by some error (Rot. Lift. Claus., ed. Hardy, II,
83 a). In 1195 (7 Ric. I) is recorded the settlement of a suit between Simon
Malhore and Alicia his wife on the one side and the Abbot of Westminster on the
other, by which the Abbot acknowledges the advowson of the church of " Hele-
well " to belong to Simon (Three Rolls of the King's Court, ed. Maitland, p. 127,
Pipe Rolls Soc., Publ., XIV ; the entry of the same case in Abbrev. Placitorum,
p. 8 1 a, is wrongly dated). Cf. Cal. Pat. R. 1334-38, p. 360. For a later Bedford-
shire family, see below p. 96, n. i.

Whether the armorial bearings of these various families show evidence of
relationship is a question which must be left to those learned in heraldry. The
Kirkby Malorys bore, Or, a lion rampant Gules (see Nichols, IV, 761, pi. CXX,
fig. i). The Walton branch (known to be related to the Kirkby family) bore Or,
a lion rampant qzieue fourchee Gules, (id., Ill, 499). The Studley Royal Malorys
bore Or, a lion rampant with two tails Gules, collared Pearl (Flower's Visitation of
Yorkshire, 1564, ed. Norcliffe, p. 195). The Woodford Malorys bore Purpitre, a
lion rampant Or, collared Gules, a fleur-de-lis for difference ( Visitations of North-
amptonshire, ed. Metcalfe, p. 35). The Cambridgeshire Malorys bore Or, a lion
rampant Gules, collared of the first (Fuller's Worthies, ed. Nuttall, I, 252). The
Malorys of Shelton (see p. 96, n. i), a branch of the family last mentioned, bore
Or, a lion rampant queue fourchte Gules, within a bordure of the second ; crest, a
horse's head couped Gules, charged with a fleur-de-lis ( Visitations of Bedfordshire,
ed. Blaydes, p. 122). The similarity in all these cases is certainly striking. The
Wimvick-Newbold Malorys bore Or, three lions passant guardant Sabl* (Dugdale,
I, 79, fig. II in plate; I, 83, and fig.; Fuller's Worthies, ed. Nuttall, II, 247, 524).

Who was Sir Thomas Malory ? 93

the other archer, x. marks and no dyet." * I can find no siege of
Calais in Henry V's time.2 Perhaps the agreement was merely to
serve at Calais. In that case, the likeliest date for Malory's cove-
nant is perhaps 1415, when Warwick indented "to serve the King
as Captain of Calais, until Febr. 3. An. 1416 (4 Hen. 5.) And to
have with him in the time of Truce or Peace, for the safeguard
thereof, Thirty Men at Arms, himself and three Knights accounted
as part of that number: Thirty Archers on Horsback, Two hun-
dred Foot Soldiers, and Two hundred Archers, all of his own reti-
nue. . . . And in time of War, he to have One hundred and forty
Men on Horsbak," etc.3

Uugdale also assigns them A fesse between three boars' heads couped (I, 82, on
the authority of Kniveton) and Argent, on a canton a boar's head couped Or (I, 79,
fig. 18 in plate ; see also Index of Arms Blazoned at end of vol. II). It is note-
worthy, however, that among the arms figured by Dugdale as occurring in the
windows of the church at Kirby, in which parish Newbold Revell lies, occur the
following, which Dugdale cannot identify: Sable, a lion [with two tails] Or.
May one guess that beneath this confusion lurks evidence of a connection between
the Newbold and the Kirkby Malory families ?

1 Warwickshire, I, 83. Dugdale's authority is a roll which I have not identi-
fied (" Rot. in Bibl. Hatton"). Perhaps it was a retinue roll. He gives no date.

2 One thinks of the unsuccessful attack on Calais by the Duke of Burgundy
in the reign of Henry VI (1436)- See J. Stevenson, Letters and Papers illustra-
tive of the Wars of the English in France during the Reign of Henry the Sixth, II,
i, p. xlix. But this will hardly do.

8 Dugdale, Baronage, I, 244, from the original document. This is, I think, the
beginning of Warwick's service in this capacity under an indenture. He was first
appointed captain of Calais Feb. 3, 1414 (Rot. Franc, i Hen. V; jjth Report of
the Deputy Keeper, pp. 550, 551), but a few days earlier (Jan. 31) he was ordered, in
that capacity, to proclaim a truce (Rot. Franc, i Hen. V ; Report, p. 551 ; Rymer,
Foedera, IX, in). Oct. 20, 1414, he was commissioned to go to the Council of
Constance (Rymer, IX, 167), and this caused an interruption in his captaincy.
When he resumed the office, it seems to have been under this indenture of June
19, 1415. (See for significant dates Rymer, IX, 178, 179, 319; Report, pp. 554,
556, 558, 562 ; Proc. Privy Council, ed. Nicolas, II, 169.) Dugdale, Baronage,
I, 243 ff., and Mr. Gairdner, Diet. Nat. Biog., have done much for the chronology
of Beauchamp's life, but several difficulties remain. In particular, it is not easy
to reconcile Monstrelet's assertion (Chron., ed. Douet-Arcq, III, 54 ; cf. Waurin,
Recueil, ed. Hardy, II, 164) that he was present at the coronation of Sigismund
at Aix, Nov. 8, 1414 (accepted by M. Lenz, Konig Sigismund, 1874, pp. 63, 64)
with the documents in Rymer, IX, 178, 179.

94 George Lyman Kittredge.

In our uncertainty with regard to the year of this service, we can
draw no solid inference as to the date of Malory's birth. We have
already seen that he was probably of age and over in 1433-34 (see
p. 88, above) : if he served with Beauchamp in 1416, he was
doubtless born as early as 1400, but not much earlier. This would
make him seventy years old at the time of his death.

The service of Malory with Richard of Warwick is, however,
peculiarly significant in view of the well-known character of the
Earl. No better school for the future author of the Morte Darthur
can be imagined than a personal acquaintance with that Englishman
whom all Europe recognized as embodying the knightly ideal of
the age. The Emperor Sigismund, we are informed on excellent
authority, said to Henry V " that no prince Cristen for wisdom,
norture, and manhode, hadde such another knyght as he had of
therle Warrewyk; addyng therto that if al curtesye were lost,
yet myght hit be founde ageyn in hym ; and so ever after by the
emperours auctorite he was called the Fadre of Curteisy." l

The history of Warwick's life, as set down by John Rous, chantry
priest and antiquary, and almost a contemporary of the great earl,
reads like a roman d'aventure. One exploit in particular might
almost have been taken out of the Morte Darthur itself.2 " Erie
Richard," we are told, "... heryng of a greet gaderyng in Fraunce,
inasmoche as he was capteyn of Caleys he hied him thidre hastely,
and was there worthely received ; and when that he herd that the
gaderyng in Fraunce was appoynted to come to Caleys, he cast in his
mynde to do sume newe poynt of chevalry ; wheruppon," under the
several names of "the grene knyght," " Chevaler Vert," and " Cheva-
ler Attendant," he sent three challenges to the French king's court.
" And anone other 3 Frenche knyghtes received them, and graunted
their felowes to mete at day and place assigned." On the first day,
" the xii day of Christmasse, in a lawnde called the Park Hedge of
Gynes," Earl Richard unhorsed the first of the French knights.

1 John Rous, Life of Richard Earl of Warwick, as printed from MS. Cotton.
Julius E. IV, by Strutt, Horda Angel-cynnan, 1775-6, II, 125, 126. Rous died
Jan. 1492 ; Beauchamp, May 31, 1439.

2 For similar incidents in romance, see Ward, Catalogue of Romances, I, 733 ff.,
with which cf. Malory's Morte Darthur, bk. vii, chs. 28, 29, Sommer, I, 257 ff.

Who was Sir Thomas Malory? 95

Next day he came to the field in another armor and defeated the
second French knight, " and so with the victory, and hymself
unknown rode to his pavilion agayn, and sent to this blank knyght
Sir Hugh Lawney, a good courser." On the third day the Earl
" came in face opyn . . . and said like as he hadde his owne persone
performed the two dayes afore, so with Goddes grace he wolde the
third, then ran he to the Chevaler name[d] Sir Colard Fymes, and
every stroke he bare hym bakwards to his hors bakke; and then the
Frenchmen said he was bounde to the sadyll, wherfor he alighted
down from his horse, and forthwith stept up into his sadyll ageyn,
and so with worshipe rode to his pavilion, and sent to Sir Colard a
good courser, and fested all the people ; . . . and rode to Calys
with great worshipe." (Strutt, Horda, II, 124, 125.)

This romantic adventure cannot be dated with any certainty. The
days are settled by the text of Rous : they are January 6, 7, and 8
(Twelfth Day and the two days following), but the year is not easily
fixed. By a process of elimination we may arrive at the date 1416
or 1417,* either of which may be right. One likes to imagine

1 Rous's chronology is not easy to make out ; but this is not surprising or sus-
picious, for his text, we must remember, is not a connected biography, but merely
a running commentary on his pictures. He certainly puts the adventure after
Warwick's return from his pilgrimage and after his appointment as captain of
Calais. It therefore cannot be earlier than Jan. 24, 1414, and this rules out 1414
altogether, since the tilt took place Jan. 6, 7, and 8. Jan., 1415, is impossible, for
Warwick was apparently at the Council of Constance throughout that month.
Jan., 1418, is also out of the question, for the final struggle between Henry V and
the French was then at its hottest : the siege of Falaise by Henry lasted from
Dec. i, 1417, to Jan. 2, 1418, and the citadel held out till Feb. 16 ; Warwick was
serving in the army. Jan., 1419, is excluded for a similar reason : the siege of
Rouen by Henry lasted from June, 1418, to Jan. 19, 1419, and Warwick was with
the king. That Jan., 1420, and Jan., 1421, are also out of the question, may be
seen by a glance at the state of affairs in France (see Sir J. H. Ramsay, Lan-
caster and York, I, 276-278, 287, 288). So of Jan., 1422, when the Earl was with
the king at the siege of Meaux (id., I, 297 ff.). Henry V died Sept. i, 1422 (id., I,
304). Besides, 1420 and 1421 would disjoint Rous's narrative too much. He
tells of the tilt before he describes Richard's going to the Council of Constance,
though he does not expressly say that the two events happened in that order.
We at once perceive that the tilt could not have preceded Richard's departure
for Constance (which took place in Nov., 1414) if Rous is right in saying that

g6 George Lyman Kittredge.

Thomas Malory as serving in Warwick's retinue on this occasion,
and I know of nothing to forbid our indulging so agreeable a fancy.
It may, I think, be safely asserted that we have before us a Sir
Thomas Malory who, so far as one can see, fulfils all the conditions '

Richard was captain of Calais. To postpone the tilt till 1420, or later, however,
would entirely disturb the order of Rous's narrative. We have, then, two years
left — 1416 and 1417. Jan., 1416 (the date adopted by Dugdale, Baronage, I,
244), is apparently possible. Warwick had returned from Constance and had
(June 19, 1415) indented to serve the king as captain of Calais (see p. 93, above).
He received Sigismund at Calais, April 27, 1416, and there is no reason to sup-
pose that he was not at his post in January. This date makes the smallest pos-
sible disturbance of Rous's order necessary : it simply forces us to assume that
he has reversed the order of the tilt and the embassy to Constance. We can
even see a reason for this slight confusion on his part. If the tilt was in Jan.,
1416, it took place shortly after Warwick's return from Constance, and shortly
before his meeting with Sigismund at Calais : Rous makes it occur shortly after
Warwick's return from his pilgrimage to the East, and shortly before his meeting
with Sigismund at Constance. Nothing would be easier than such a slip, since
Warwick and Sigismund were actually at Constance together, and since Rous tells
of Sigismund's reception at Calais in the same sentence in which he describes the
courtesy extended to Warwick by the " emperour " at Constance (Strutt, II, 125):
formal histories are full of much less natural errors. Jan., 1417, seems also to
be a possible date. It was a time of truce (Oct. 3, 1416,10 Feb. 2, 1417), in which
both parties were actively preparing for war, and the rumor of a French demon-
stration against Calais would not have been incredible. Warwick was still cap-
tain of the town; his indenture of June 19, 1415, expired Feb. 3, 1417, and he
was reappointed on the same day (cf. Dugdale, Baronage, I, 245, with Rot. Franc.,
Forty-Fourth Report, p. 587). 1417 does not fit Rous's narrative quite so well
as 1416. Both dates are entirely consistent with the supposition that Thomas
Malory was in the Earl's retinue when the tilt took place.

1 Curiously enough there was another Thomas Malory who died at almost the
same time. He belonged to a Cambridgeshire family, and was lord of the manor
of Papworth Anneys (Papworth St. Agnes, on the Huntingdonshire border). His
death appears to have taken place in 1469 (cf. Calend. Inquis. p. M., IV, 347, 9
and 10 Ed. IV, with Index of Wills proved in the Prerog. Court of Cant., II, 351).
This Thomas, however, was not a knight, but merely an armiger, and this rules
him out, even if he did not die too soon to satisfy the conditions. The pedigree
of the Papworth family is not quite clear (cf. Cal. Inq., p. M., IV, 221, 231, 250,
351, 392 ; Cant. Wills, II, 351 ; St. George, Cambridgeshire Visitation, ed.
Phillipps, 1840, p. 22; Fuller, Worthies, ed. Nuttall, I, 244, 252, 253). The Malorys
of Shelton, Bedfordshire, were a younger branch of this family (see Visitations of
Bedfordshire, ed. Blaydes, p. 122, and cf. Blaydes, Genealogia Bedfordiensis,\>. 253).

Who was Sir Thomas Malory? 97

required of a -claim ant for the honor of having written the Morte
Darthur. There is absolutely no contestant, and until such a con-
testant appears, it is not unreasonable to insist on the claims of this
Sir Thomas.

Before dismissing the subject, however, we must examine the
credentials of a kind of supposititious claimant, Professor John Rhys's
hypothetical Welshman Maleore or Maleor, who differs from the Sir
Thomas just introduced to the reader in that he is a mere inference,
not a man who has a place in the records. His parentage is (a) a
random guess of Bale's, and (<£) an etymological aperfit implying, as
we shall soon see, a complete lack of acquaintance with the forms
and history of the name Maleore, Malore, Malory in England and in
English.

The author's name, it will be remembered, is thrice mentioned in
the Morte Darthur (as issued by Caxton). Twice it is spelled
Malory (in Caxton's Preface and in his colophon) ; once Maleore
(in the author's own valediction to the reader). Bale,1 writing Latin,
calls him Mailorius, and remarks that he was Britannicus nationc.
This assertion Professor Rhys is inclined to accept, proposing, in
addition, to connect his name with that of "two districts on the
confines of England and Wales," Maylawr, Maelawr, or Maelor?
The trisyllabic form Malory Professor Rhys seems to derive from
the Latinized Mailorius. The form Maleore he regards as dissylla-
bic (that is, as merely a bad spelling for Maleor or Maelor), and he
refers it directly to the Welsh place-name, comparing the name of
a twelfth-century Cymric lord of the districts in question, Gruffud
Maelwr or " Griffith of Maelor." 3

To Bale's evidence no one can attach the slightest weight.4 Nor
are Professor Rhys's etymologies more convincing. To assume

1 Illust. Mai. Brit. Script. CataL, quoted by Sommer, III, 335. Dr. Sommer
attaches no importance to Bale's note. See below, p. 104, n. 6.

2 In this he follows a hint of Bale's.

8 Preface to the edition of Malory's Morte Darthur published by J. M. Dent
& Co. (London, 1893, vo'- I» PP- XJ> X^J)-

4 Bale's biographical statements are of the good old-fashioned sort (" inter
multiplices reipublicae curas, non intermisit hie literarum studia," etc.) and con-
vey no information. He admits that he does not even know under what king

9 8 George Lyman Kittredge,

that Maleore is dissyllabic — that is, to refuse to pronounce this
form in accordance with the by-form Malory — is dangerous a pri-
ori; and it is still more dangerous to explain the form Malory as an
Englishing of the Latinization of the dissyllabic Maleor(e). The
natural way to deal with Malory, Maleore is to regard the -e in
Maleore not as silent (and due to a vicious spelling), but as repre-
senting an Old French -e (from Lat. d). Malory would then come
from an earlier Malore, just as we have plenty from M. E. plente
(O. Fr. plent?), honesty from honeste, and so on, the rule being one
of the best known in English phonology. That an -e form should
survive, as an archaic spelling, after the -e had become -y, is not
surprising, and, as all will admit, does not in the least indicate that
Maleore was ever a word of two syllables.

Phonological arguments, however, are not the only ones that can
be brought against Professor Rhys's theory: the history of the name
Malore (Malory) in England at once disposes of it. Professor Rhys
knew of no bearer of the name earlier than the author of the Morte

Mailorius flourished, — something that he might have discovered from the closing
words of the Morte Darthnr. He seems not to know that he was a knight. In
short, he knows nothing. The form Mailorius, like Leland's Meilorius (in his list
of authors, Assertio Arturij, 1544, opp. fo. i, r°, cited by Sommer, III, 335), is
obviously made up to suit Mailoria (Meiloria in Leland, Syllabus et Interp. Antiq.
Diet., 1542, fo. f iii, r°, as cited by Sommer, l.c.), the Latinized form of the
place-name Maelwr (see below, p. 104, n. 6), though a spelling Maillere does
occur (see below, p. 101, ann. 1383). Bale's idea of making Malory a Welshman
was probably suggested by Leland's catalogue of authors in the Assertio. Leland
divides his authors into two classes, — externi and Britannici, — and mentions
Thomas Meilorius (whom he does not call a knight ; cf. Bale) in the second list.
By Britannicus, however, Leland does not mean Welshman, for he includes
under this head several Englishmen (Bede, for example). The whole of Bale's
information about Malory's book (including the title that he gives it) comes from
Leland's Assertio, fo. 19 v°. Cf. the passages : " Vnde in historiarum lectione diu
versatus ex uariis autoribus undique selegit, de fortitudine ac uictoriis inclytissimi
Brytannorum regis Arthurii Collectiones Anglicas It. i. Alia ipsum edidisse non
legi, nee in cuiusquam bibliopolae officina uidi. Aptissimum inter historicos hunc
ei designaui locum, donee inuenero sub quo claruerit rege. Ab eius opere interim
sunt reiiciendae fabulae quibus abundat." (Bale.) " Libri de eius [sc. Arturii] cum
fortitudine, turn victorijs, impressi, vt ego didici, Italice legantur, Hispanice etiam,
& Gallice. Vnde & collectio Anglica, autore Thoma Mailerio, prodijt. Dixerit
aduersarius in illos mendacia irrepsisse multa. Pernoui." (Leland.)

Who was Sir Thomas Malory? 99

Darthur. With this in view one can understand how he thought it
possible that Sir Thomas was a Welshman, who took his surname
from the district Maelwr. If Professor Rhys had known — what
is the fact — that the name Malore (Mallore, Mature, etc.) had been
common in England for three hundred years when Caxton published
the Morte Darthur, he would probably never have put forth his
hypothesis. The earliest Malore yet found is Richard Malore, who
is known to have been a landholder in Leicestershire and North-
amptonshire in the reigns of Stephen and Henry II.1 A Geoffrey
Malore received lands in Botley, co. Warwick, temp. Henr. II.2
Anketill Malore, constable of Leicester, is well known to history in
the revolt against the same king (ii74).3 From this time to the
present day the name occurs again and again. I give a rather large
number of examples, partly to illustrate the spelling. In almost
every instance, it will be observed, the authority for the form is a
contemporary record.

1189-90 (i Ric. I). Rofe Mallore, Ric Mallore, Lauf Mallore (Pipe
Roll i Ric. /, ed. Hunter, pp. 117, 122, 164). — 1195 (7 Ric. I).4 Sim
Malhore (Rot. Curiae Regis Ric. I, no. 4, in Three Rolls, ed. Maitland,
Pipe Roll Soc., Publ., XIV, 127). — 1199(1 Job.). Hen? Mallore (Rot.
Curiae Regis, ed. Palgrave, I, 239, 240). Hnr Malore (Rot. de
Obi. et Fin. temp. Reg. Joh., ed. Hardy, p. 24). — 1200 (i Job.).
Hiir Mallore (Rot. Curiae Regis, II, 232). — 1201-2 (3 Joh.). Ralph
Mallore (Nichols, IV, 722). Roti Mallore, Wills Mallore, Henr Mallore
(Rot. Cane, de 3 ann. Joh., pp. 3, 4, 7). — 1 202-3 (4 Joh.). Henric Mallore
(Fines, ed. Hunter, I, 220). — 1204 (6 Joh.). Henr Mallore (Rot, Litt.
Pat., ed. Hardy, I, i, 48 a). — 1208 (9 Joh.). Anketiir Maulore (Rot.
Litt. Claus., I, 1 06 b).— 1206 (8 Joh.). Witt de Malores (Rot. Litt.

1 See Dugdale, Warwickshire, II, 1066 ; Bridges, Northamptonshire, ed. Whal-
ley, I, 96; Nichols, Leicestershire, II, 379. Dr. Marcou calls my attention to the
occurrence of the name, in the form Malory or Mallory, in the pretended Roll of
Battle Abbey, as given by Stowe, Annals, p. 106, ed. 1631 ; Holinshed, II, 7, ed.
1807 5 Grafton, I, 158, ed. 1809. As is well known, no authority attaches to this
document. [See Additional Note, p. 106, below.]

' Dugdale, Warwickshire, II, 820 ("ex autog.").

8 Benedict of Peterborough, ed. Stubbs, I, 68, 73 ; Roger de Hoveden, ed.
Stubbs, II, 57, 65 ; Brompton, in Twysden, Scriptores Decem, col. 1093.

4 According to Professor Maitland's dating of the roll (Introd., p. xxviii).

ioo George Lyman Kittredge.

Cta us., ed. Hardy, I, 73 b) — c. 1210. Richard, son of William Mallore
(Descrip. Cat. Anc. Deeds, II, 461, C. 1901 ; cf. II, 462, C. 1909, and II,
468, C. 1972). — 12- (temp. Hen. III). Richard Maulore, son of Wil-
liam Maulore (id., II, 475, C. 2036). — 1220. Gilbert Malore (Nichols,
III, 4ss). — 1225 (9 Hen. III). Alic Mallore (Rot. Litt. Claus., II, 83.a).
— 1 229 (14 Hen. I II). Anketift Mallore (Excerpta e Rot. Fin., ed. Roberts,
1,191). — 1230. William Malore (Nichols, 111,455). — c- 1240. Robs
Mallore (Testa de Nevil, 116, p. 26 b), Ro"bs Malhore (id., 289, p. 64 a),
Rot>s Mallure (id., 314, p. 67 b), Rots Maulore (id., 340, p. 73 b).
Anketiti- (-til) Malore (id., 486, 537, 552, pp. 109 b, 122 b, 126 a ; cf. 686,
P- 377 a)- — I244 (28 Hen. III). Anketil Malore (Cal. Docs, relating to
Ireland, 1171-1251, p. 399). — 1246 (31 Hen. III). Anketil Malore
(Excerpta e Rot. Fin., II, 4). — 1248 (32 Hen. III). Anketil Malore
(Cal. of Docs, relating to Ireland, 1171-1251, p. 436). — 1267-68
(52 Hen. III). ' Rob's Malure, Simon Malore, Gilts Malure (Rot.
Select., ed. Hunter, pp. 171, 176, 184). — c. 1267-68. Joh Malore (id., p.
253), Rofe Maloure (id., p. 255). — 1270 (55 Hen. III). Simon Mallore
(Esch. R., in Nichols, III, 372). — 1273. Ric. Malore (Reg. Ric. Graves-
end Episc. Line., Bridges- Whalley, I, 584). — 1274-75 (3 Ed. I). Nicho-
laus filius domini Anketini Malore (Cal. Geneal., ed. Roberts, I, 221). —
1278-9 (7 Ed. I). Rob Maulere (Rot. Orig. Abbrev., I, 34 b), Rogerus
Malore (Inq. 7 Ed. /., in Nichols, IV, 73 ; cf. IV, 361).— 1280 (8 Ed. I).
William Malure (Cat. Anc. Deeds, II, 246, B. 1934). — 1282 (10 Ed. I).
J. Malure (Cal. of Docs, relating to Ireland, 1252-1284., p. 420). John
Maleure (id., p. 446; Cal. Pat. R. Edw. I, 1281-1292, p. 34). — 1283.
Nicholas Malore (Nichols, II, 611). — 1285 (13 Ed. I). Ralph Malore
(Cat. Anc. Deeds, II, 362, B. 3053).— 1286 (14 Ed. I). William Mallore,
William de Maulore (Cal. Pat. R. Edw. I, 1281-1292, pp. 240, 246),
Henry de Maulore (id., p. 246), Richard Mallore (id., p. 259). — 1287-88
(16 Ed. I). Sarra filia Anketini Malore alias Malure (Cal. Geneal., I,
388; cf. I, 398). — 1289 (17 Ed. I). John Maloure, Gilbert Maloure
(Cal. Pat. R. Edw. I, 1281-1292, p. 328). — 1291-92 (20 Ed. I). Thomas
(de) Maulore (Esch. R., in Nichols, II, 527). William Malure (Cal. Pat. R.
Edw. I, 1281-1292, p. 495). — 1295-96 (24 Ed. I). Roger Mallore (Lib.
Feod. Mil. MS. Cardigan, Bridges- Whalley, I, 60 1). Rogerus Malore
(Inq. 24 Ed. /, Nichols, IV, 361). — 1297 (25 Ed. I). Stephen Malore,
Richard Malore (Cal. Pat. R. Edw. I, 1292-1301, p. 262).

1300 (28 Ed. I). Ralph Mallore (Cal. Pat. R. Edw. I, 1292-1301,
p. 533). — 1309 (2 Ed. II). William Mallorre (Cal. Pat. R. Edw. II,
1307-1313, p. 97). — 1313 (7 Ed. II). Stephen Malore (Cal. Cl. R. Edw.

Who was Sir Thomas Malory? 101

77, 1313-1318, p. 82). — 1314 (8 Ed. II). Simon Malore (id., p. 134).—
1316 (9 Ed. II). Step~hus Malore, Simon Malore (Nom. Villar., in Pal-
grave, Parl. Writs, II, iii, 390), Ricus Malore (id., p. 392), Joties Malore
(id., p. 368, cf. 392). — 1320 (13 and 14 Ed. II). Reginaldus Malore (Par/.
Writs, ed. Palgrave, II, ii, 533), Radus Mallore, Malore (id., pp.228, 229).
— 1322(15 Ed. II). Jofis Mallore (id., p. 596). — 1324 (17 Ed. II). Johannes
Mallore (id., p. 655), Radus Mallore (id., p. 639) — 1325 (18 Ed. II). Rauf
Malore (id., p. 701). — 1328 (2 Ed. III). Simon Mallore (Cal. Cl. R. Edw.
Ill, 1327-1330, p. 381). — 1332 (6 Ed. III). Margaret, late the wife of
Richard Malore (Cal. Pat. R. Edw. Ill, 1330-1334, p. 239). — 1336 (10
Ed. III). Stephen Mallore (id., 1334-38, p. 221). John Malore (id., pp. 251,
255, 360). — 1337 (n Ed. III). John Malure (id., p. 388). John Malorre
(id., p. 399). — 1346 (20 Ed. III). Henry, John Malore (Rot. Aux., in
Nichols, II, 731, III, 497). — 1366-67 (40 Edw. III). Jo1i Malore (Rot.
Orig. Abbre-v., II, 289 a). — 1369 (43 Ed. III). Stephen Malore (Esch. R..
in Nichols, II, 612). — 1374-75 (48 Ed. III). Egidius de Malore & Johanna
ux' ejus (Rot. Orig. Abbrev., II, 330 b). — 1376-77 (50 Ed. III). Egidius
de Malore (id., II, 342 a). — 1378 (i Ric. II). Antel alias Angetil Malorre
(Cal. Pat. R. Rich. II, 1377-1381, p. 172). — 1379 (3 Ric. II). Giles Malure
(id., p. 416). — 1380 (3 Ric. II). Giles Mallore (id., p. 470), Anketin
Malore, Mallore (id., p. 472 ; cf. pp. 514, 560). — 1381 (4 Ric. II). John
Mallore (id., p. 612). — 1383-84 (7 and 8 Ric. II). Antonius Maillere
chivaler (Rot. Scot., II, 58 a, 67 a). — 1388 (i I Ric. II). Anketillus Mallory
(Rot. Parl., Ill, 400 b). — 1388-89 (12 Ric. II). Anketifr Malore (Cal.
Pat. R. Rich. II, 1377-1381, p. 584.

1412 (14 Hen. IV). Thomas Malory knight (Esch. R., Nichols, III,
685). — 1418 (6 Hen. V). William Mallere knight (Rot. Franc., 44th
Report, p. 606). — 1415 (3 Hen. V). Willelmus Maleore, Christoferus
Maleore (Darnborough MS. xlii, J. T. Fowler, Mem. of the Church of SS.
Peter and Wilfrid, Ripon, I, 287). — 1432 (10 Hen. VI). Johannes Malory,
Simon Malory (Rot. Parl., IV, 412). — 1434(12 Hen. VI). Robertus Malore
(Rot. Scot., Rymer, X, 585). — 1435 (13 Hen. VI). Robertus Malorre (Rot.
Franc., Rymer, X, 600). — 1438 -(17 Hen. VI). Robertus Mallorre (Rot.
Scot., Rymer X, 711). — 1440 (18 Hen. VI). Robertus Malore (Offic. Corresp.
of Thomas Bekynton, ed. Williams, I, 78). — 1442-43 (21 Hen. VI). Simon
Malorre (Index of Cant. Wills, ed. Smith, II, 351). — 1444-45 (23 Hen.
VI). Will'us Malory (Cal. Inq. p. M., IV, 221).— 1446-47 (25 Hen. VI).
WilPus Malory (id., IV, 231). — 1449 (27 Hen. VI). William Mailore
(Bodl. Charter 34, Turner and Coxe, Calendar, p. 648). — 1450-51 (29 Hen.
VI). Will'us Malory, Thomas Malory filius . . . Willielmi Malory (Cal.

102 George Lyman Kittredge.

Inq.p. M., IV, 250). — 1469 (9 Ed. IV). Thomas Malory (Cant. Wills,
II, 351 ; Cal. Inq.p. M., IV, 347). William Maleore (Mem. in hand of
Greemvell, Abbot of Fountains, Walbran, Mem. of Abbey of St. Mary
of Fountains, I, 148, note). — 1471-72 (i i Ed. IV). Johannes Malory (id.,
IV. 350-— 1478-79 (i 8 Ed. IV). Rob'tus fiT Thomae Malory (Cal., IV,
392). — 1487 (3 Hen. VII). John Mallery (Privy Seal Writ, in Wm.
Campbell, Materials for a Hist, of Reign of Henry VII, II, 187). John
Mallary, Robert Mallary, Gyles Mallary, William Mallary (Rot. Parl. VI,
397). — 1488 (3 Hen. VII). John Mallery (Campbell, Materials, II, 251).
- 1489 (4 Hen. VII). William Mallery (Rot. Pat., in Campbell, II, 458).

The regular forms in the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth cen-
turies, it will be observed, are those in -e.1 In the fifteenth we have,

1 A very few -y (-*') forms are recorded as occurring early. Thus Ricardo [abl.]
Mallori occurs as a witness to a charter of the Countess of Leicester in 1194
(Jones and Macray, Charters and Documents illustrating the Hist, of Salisbury,
p. 53). Cf. (1287) Robert Malori (in Cal. Pat. R. Edw. I, 1281-1292, p. 267) ;
(1316) JoHes Malory (Nom. Villar. in Palgrave, Parl. Writs, II, Hi, 392);
(1322) foHnes Mallory (Palgrave, Parl. Writs, II, ii, 588). These may be errors
of the copyist or the printer. Mallori, Mallory, and Maulerey are found in the
Records ed. of the Testa de Nevil (pp. 36 b, 37 a, 71 a), a compilation made about
1330. Such forms as Mallor, Mau/0r(with a mark of contraction) are of course no evi-
dence for a dissyllabic pronunciation (see Rot. de Obi. et Fin. temp. Reg. Jo/i., p. 23 ;
Rot. Lift. Claus., I, 106 b ; Great Roll of the Pipe for 19 Hen. II, Pipe Roll Soc.,
Publ., XIX, 180). Mallor (which occurs frequently, as well as Malore, in a Latin
register of the Abbey of St. Mary de Pratis, as printed by Nichols, IV, ii, 762,
from MS. Laud, H. 72, fo. 69-71) is a mere error, and the same is doubtless true
of Mallor in Sweetman's Cal. of Docs, relating to Ireland, 1285-1292, p. 144 (see
Cal. Pat. R. Edw. I, 1281-1292, p. 267, where, in calendaring the same document,
the editors read Malori). There are, it should be remembered, one or two other
names that bear some resemblance to Malore (Malory), and may at times have
been confused with it in the records. One of these is Mallere (' hammerer,' from
M. E. mallen 'malleare'), which would regularly lose its -/. Thus " Wltis fil '
Wiffi le Malore de Hoveden," 1318 (Palgrave, Parl. Writs, II, ii, App., p. 131);
Robtus le Mallore, Wiitus le Mellore, 1326 (id., II, ii, 746) ; "de domibus Walteri
Zynegare et Willielmi le Maliare," Chron. Abbatiae de Evesham, ed. Macray, p. 284;
"one Mailer," 1574 (Acts of the Pri-vy Council, N. S., VIII, 242). So perhaps
John Maler, 1582 (id., N. S., XIII, p. 307) ; but this may be the Christian name
Maler used as a surname. The form Mauleur, which occurs twice in 1338 (Rot.
Scotiae, I, 547 b, 549 b), may or may not be connected with Malore: observe that
a mark of contraction would turn it into Mauleverer, a common name. Males-
h-wre, 1178 (J. H. Round, Anc. Charters, I, 75), I do not understand: is it for
Maleseueres, i.e., Maleseveres or -overes ?

Who was Sir Thomas Malory? 103

as we should expect, both -e and -y. By the end of that century,1 it may
be added, the -y form was by far the commoner, and it has survived to the
present day as a well-known family name in England and America.

With this list before us we shall not be tempted to believe that
Sir Thomas, in the fifteenth century, was a Welshman, and was sur-
named Maleore because he came from Maelwr.

That the forms just catalogued were trisyllabic in the twelfth,
thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries, nobody will deny. That the
final e was -<?, and not -<?, is proved, not merely by the development
to -y (p. 98, above), but by three pieces of documentary evidence.
Sir Peter Malory was probably the most distinguished member of
that branch of the family to which our Sir Thomas belonged. He
was Justice of the Common Pleas from 1292 to 1309^ one of the
special commissioners for the trial of William Wallace in 1305, and
was constantly engaged in public affairs. His name is therefore a
familiar one in the records. It appears, not only in the forms
Malore? Mallore? Malorre? Mallorre? Malure? Malurre* Maulure?

1 Late instances of -e forms are: 1504, Nicholas Malore (Rot. Parl., VI, 541) ;
1545-48, Thomas Malare, Thomas Malere (Phillimore, Calendar of Northampton
and Rutland Wills, p. 42). I have not thought it necessary to give a list of -y (-ye,
-ie) forms (Malory, Mallory, Malery, Malary, Mallery, Malleric, Mallerye, Malari,
Maalary, etc.) in the sixteenth century and later ; they are of course abundant.

2 Stubbs, Chronicles of the Reigns of Edward I and Edward II, I, 149, note.

3 Cal. Pat. Rolls Edw. I, 1281-1292, pp. 481, 507, 51 1, 51 5 ; Cal. Pat. R. Edit). I,
1292-1301, pp. 16, 46, 81, 162, 166, 170, etc.; Rot. Parl., I, 44 a, 201 b; Cat. Anc.
Deeds, I, 109 (A. 927); Anc. Kal. and Inv. of Excheq., ed. Palgrave, III, 116.
The form de Malore also occurs: Rot. Parl., I, 179 b (cf. Memoranda de Parl.,
ed. Maitland, p. 300).

4 Cal. Pat. Rolls Edw. I, 1292-1301, pp. 161, 316, 423, 461, 462, etc.; Cal.
Close R. Edw. II, 1307-1313, pp. 16, 74 ; Rot. Parl., I, 337 b, 338 a, 460; Rot. Orig.
in Curia Scacc. Abbrev., I, 134 b.

5 Cal. Pat. Rolls Ediv. I, 1292-1301, pp. 356, 382, 459, 463, 464, 544, 628, 630;
Cal. P. R. Edw. II, 1307-1313, pp. 25, 40, 42, 85, 261, 276, 314, 483; Cal. Close R.
Edw. II, 1307-1313, pp. 104, 116, 166, 192, 214, 306; Rot. Parl., I, 189 b, 196 a,
210 b, 218 b, 338 b.

6 Cal. Pat. Rolls Edw. I, 1292-1301, p. 541 ; Cal. P. R. Edw. II, 1307-1313,
pp. 2, 19 ; Cal. Close R. Edw. II, 1307-1313, p. 145; Rot. Parl., I, 201 b.

7 Annales de Dunstaplia, ad ann. 1295 (Ann. Monast., Ill, 394) ; Annales Lon-
donienses de Temp. Edw. I, ad ann. 1307 (Stubbs, Chrons. of the Reigns of Edw. I
and Edw. II, I, 149). 8 Cal. Pat. R. Edw. I, 1292-1301, p. 312.

9 Annales de Dunstaplia, ad ann. 1295 (Ann. Monast., ed. Luard, III, 394).

iO4 George Lyman Kittredge.

Molorre* but, by good luck, in a form in two is, — Maluree? which
leaves no room for doubt as to what -e we are dealing with. Another
welcome piece of testimony is furnished by the name of Giles Mal-
ory, as recorded shortly before and shortly after 1400. This person
is mentioned thrice 8 in the Proceedings of the Privy Council, once in
1389 and twice in 1401. On the first occasion his name is spelled
Maloree ; on the second, Malorry ; on the third, Malory* Again in
the will of Alice Basset, Lady of Bytham,8 widow of Sir Anketil
Malory of Kirkby Malory, the name is spelled Maloree three times.

The supposed dissyllabic Maleor(e) is, then, out of the argument,
and with it disappears the derivation from the place-name Maelwr?

1 Cal. Pat. R. Edw. I, 1292-1301, p. 378. The variant forms Malore, Mallore,
Malorre, Mallorre, are all found in Parl. Writs, ed. Palgrave; see I, 722; II, iii,
1136.

2 This spelling occurs in Annales Londonienses de Temp. Edw. /, ad. ann. 1 305
(Stubbs, I, 139) in the text, and also in the copy here given of the commission
to Peter Malore and others to try Wallace; so again in the record of the trial in
a copy given at p. 140. Bishop Stubbs's edition is based on an eighteenth-rentury
transcript, but at this point the earlier MS. (first half of the fourteenth century) has
been preserved (see Introd., p. xiii), and I infer that the form Maluree is found
therein. If this is not the case, the Giles Malory record is sufficient to establish
the point.

8 Proceedings, ed. Nicolas, I, 14 b, 158, 160. He is probably identical with the
Egidius de Malore mentioned, 48 and 50 Ed. Ill (1374-75, 1376-77), in Rot. Orig.
Abbreviatio, II, 330 b, 342 a.

4 No student of English will ask for evidence that -y (of various origins) was
often written -e in the fifteenth century. A good example of a proper name is Tre-
laivne for Trelawney in Rot. Franc. 5 Henr. V, m. 2 (44th Report of the Deputy
Keeper, p. 602). Cf. Elmham, Liber Metricus de Henrico V°, v. 970 : " Hie
dominus Morle moritur — Deus huic miserere."

6 A. Gibbons, Early Lincoln Wills, p. 1 10.

6 The place-name Maelwr occurs often enough in the English records, but
always as a dissyllable. See, for example: Maylor Saxneyth (1283), Cal. Pat.
Rolls Edw. I, 1281-1292, p. 60; Maillorsaxeneyth (1289), id., p. 328; Meyllor
Seisenek (1291), id., p. 424; Meilurseisnek (1292), id.,p. 521; Mailor Saiseneik
(1314), Cal. Close Rolls Edw. II, 1313-1318, p. 102; -id., 1318-1323, Maillour Sei-
senayk (1322), id., p. 421; Mellorseisenek (1323), id., p. 645. It must now be ob-
vious that Bale's Mailorius is a spelling devised to fit Mailoria. The etymology
of Malore is far from clear. The name, as we have seen, occurs in various spell-
ings (Malore, Mallore, Malorre, Mallorre, Mature, Maluree, etc., besides forms
in -y), but the earliest form found is the twelfth-century Malore (see p. 99, above).

Who was Sir Thomas Malory? 105

carrying with it the supposititious Welsh Sir Thomas Malory. This
leaves, so far as appears at present, the Warwickshire Sir Thomas

The word is obviously French, the first part being mal (whether malus or male).
It is hardly a place-name, like Maupas (de Malo Passu), Maulai (de Malo Lacu),
de Malalney (de Malo Alneto), etc. To be sure, it sometimes occurs with de; for
example : William de Maulore, 1286 (Cal. Pat. Rolls Edw. I, p. 246); Henry de
Maulore, 1286 (ibid.); Petrus de Malore (Rot. Par/., I, 179 b); Anketill de Malory,
1346 (Rot. Auxil.y 20 Ed. Ill, as cited by Nichols, Leicestershire, IV, 762), Egidius
de Malore, 1374-75, 1376-77 (Rot. Orig. Abbrev., II, 330 b, 342 a). But this is not
significant, for, in the first place, there is no de in the vast majority of instances,
and in the second place, de is sometimes used in names that are not of local origin :
a striking example is Malebtsse = Mala Bestia (cf. Guil. Neubrigensis, Hist. Rerum
Angl., iv, 10, ed. Hewlett, I, 321: " Ricardus, vero agnomine Mala-Bestia "),
also occurring as de Malebisse (e.g., Calend. Geneal., ed. Hardy, I, 273). Prob-
ably Malore is in origin a nickname, like so many other names in mal-. Such
are Malemeyns, Malenfant, Malregard, Maufe, Mauluvel, Mauclerc (all found in
vols. I and II of Excerpta e Rot. Finium, Records Commission), Malfilastr,
Malnoury, Mauchevaler, Malveisin, Maussaint (which occur in Rot. JVormanniae,
ed. Hardy, vol. I), Maleseveres (Calend. Geneal., I, 60, etc.), Maloysel (id., I, 226),
Malcovenanz (Gervas. Cantuar., Chron., ed. Stubbs, I, 264), etc. Professor Sheldon
has favored me with the following conjectures: maleiire, mal ore (' storm,' 'wind'),
and the participle ore of orer (' to pray,' ' to wish '). " Only the first of these," he
adds, " looks attractive, though we should expect, if it is the source of the name,
to find the spelling Maleure oftener and earlier than we do find it." There are,
to be sure, forms of the name which might favor an -eii- (John Maleure is men-
tioned in 1282, Calend. of Documents relating to Ireland 1252-1284, ed. Sweetman,
p. 446; Maleore occurs at the end of the Morte Darthur and in documents referred
to in the list, pp. 101-2, above, under 1415, 1469; Malliore occurs several times in
the will of Wm. Malory of Studley Royal, dated 1472, Walbran, Mem. of
Fountains Abbey, II, i, 316, i.e., 216); but these are rare and are perhaps
only graphic variants, the oldest form known being, as has been said,
Malore, with a simple vowel in the penult. The variation between « and o
in the penult (Malore, Malure) seems to point merely to an obscuration of the
vowel ; but it is worth noticing that in a document of 1 287-88 we have a distinc-
tion pointed out : Sir Anketill Malore of York (not to be confounded with the
twelfth-century constable of Leicester Castle, or the fourteenth-century lord of
Kirkby Malory, Leicestershire) is registered as " Anketinus Malore alias Malure "
(Calend. Geneal., I, 388). The spelling Maloure (1289, see Cal. Pat. Rolls Edw. I,
p. 328) is hardly significant. " The loss of the indistinct vowel e, and probably
even the appearance of « or o for the French u (or a possible monosyllabic eu in
England) may be admitted for the latter part of the twelfth century in the locali-
ties we have to consider (cf. Behrens, Beitrdge zur Geschichte der franz. Sprache

io6 George Lyman Kittredge.

in possession of the field, for, out of all the families examined in the
present investigation, he is the only person found who fulfils the

conditions of the problem.

GEORGE LYMAN KITTREDGE.

in England, pp. 117-123, Grass, Adamsspiel, p. 122), especially if we reflect that
the u(o) was not accented either in French or English pronunciation, and further
that the pronunciation expressed by o was perhaps only a vulgarism at first. It
is conceivable that some of the early bearers of the name were quite willing to
have its origin forgotten, if, indeed, they really knew what it was, and so readily
adopted or sanctioned a spelling which tended to conceal it and which repre-
sented an existing pronunciation." (E. S. Sheldon.) The derivation of Malore
given in The ATorman People, p. 436, and repeated by the Duchess of Cleveland,
Battle Abbey Roll, II, 280-281, is valueless; these two books have confused the
names and the families of Malore and Malesoveres. [After this paper was in
type, Professor Sheldon gave me the following important note : " An eleventh-
century form of the name Malore {Malory) is, I believe, ' Gauf ridus maloret ' in
the so-called Exeter Domesday (Domesday-Book, Rec. Comm., IV, 42, 1. i). The
final -et is a perfectly good spelling for later -e, though F. Hildebrand, Jto whose
article I am indebted for mention of the name Maloret, apparently considered -et
as a diminutive ending (Zt. f. rom. Philol., VIII, 357). Examination of the
various spellings of names in Domesday mentioned by him shows that either in-
terpretation is quite possible as far as the scribal usage is concerned. If this
Maloret is, as seems to me most likely, the earliest form yet found of the name
Malory, we may feel reasonably certain that the source is not a French Maleiire(t),
but a trisyllabic Malore(t) or mal ore(t}, with (in the eleventh century) a final
spirant consonant which was later lost." The Gaufridus Maloret in question is
mentioned in Domesday (/. c.) as holding property in Devonshire. I take this
opportunity to add a reference to Principal Rhys's address at the Powis Provincial
Eisteddfod, 1896 (Bye-Gones relating to Wales and the Border Counties, XIII, 362
ff.), in which he insists strongly on his theory that Sir Thomas Malory was a
Welshman.]

ON THE DATE AND INTERPRETATION OF CHAUCER'S
COMPLAINT OF MARS.

WERE the Complaint of Mars a more important poem than it is,
the attempt made in 1886 by Professor Turein (see Anglia,
IX, 582-84) to fix the date of composition would probably not
have remained so long unexamined. Professor Skeat has, indeed,
pointed out ( Works of Geoffrey Chaucer, I, 60) that the result " is
not wholly satisfactory"; but the feature to which he calls attention
as failing to meet the conditions of the problem is not the only, nor
even the most important, defect in Professor Turein's result. Pro-
fessor Skeat, one may perhaps infer, felt little confidence in the
applicability of this method of solution to this problem, or he would
have brought to bear upon it his wide knowledge of mediaeval astron-
omy. His lack of confidence will be justified, I conceive, by the
present paper.

Professor Turein's results are as follows: 1371 and 1379 are the
only years between 1370 and 1390 in which, on or near April 12, a
conjunction of Mars and Venus occurs in the neighborhood of the
sign Taurus (then lying between long. 23° and 53°); in 1371 Venus
is in long. 13°. 8 and Mars in 3°.9 on April 12, and they come into
conjunction in long. 9° on April 20; in 1379 Venus is in long. io°.3
and Mars in 7°. 17 on April 12, and the conjunction occurs in long.
9° on April 14; as the Sun has advanced 7° in Taurus by April 20
and has only just entered Taurus on April 14, the year 1379 is the
more probable date.

Now the most obvious conditions demanded by the poem are : (i)
that the conjunction shall occur within the mansion of Venus, that is,
the sign Taurus (11. 54-55); (2) that it shall be brought about by the
direct motion of Venus, that is, by Venus, the swifter planet, over-
taking Mars, the slower (11. 54-55, 65, 69-70); (3) that the separation
from the conjunction, by the flight of Venus into Gemini, shall
nearly if not exactly coincide with the entry of the Sun into Taurus

io8 John Matthews Manly.

on April 12 (11. 80-83, I05» I39~4°); (4) tnat a few days after leaving
Mars, Venus shall have reached the second degree of Gemini
(11. 113, 119-21).

Professor Skeat pointed out (loc. fit.) that condition (3) is not
fulfilled by Professor Turein's results ; in other words, that a con-
junction which begins on April 14 does not answer the requirement
for one which is broken up on April 12. Examination will show
further that not one of the other conditions is fulfilled : (i) in
neither 1371 nor 1379 does the conjunction occur in Taurus, but in
long. 9°, which, according to Professor Turein's method, would be
1 6° of Aries; (2) in neither year is the conjunction brought about
by the direct motion of Venus ; in both Venus is retrograde, moving
from long. i3°.8 to 9° in 1371, and from io°.3 to 9° in 1379 ; (4) in
neither year does Venus, since she is retrograde, move forward into
Gemini after separating from the conjunction. It is difficult to resist
the conclusion that Professor Turein was inadequately informed as
to the conditions to be fulfilled.

Closer examination of these results indicates that an error of some
sort has occurred in passing from the positions for 1371 to those for
1379. As I have not yet been able to procure a copy of Professor
Turein's Tables, I cannot point out the source of the error, but its
existence can be shown thus : the number of days between April 12,
1371, and April 12, 1379, is 2922, in which time Mars would perform
four complete orbital revolutions of 686.98 days each, with a
remainder of 174.08 days; as this remainder is slightly more than
one-fourth of his period, the place of Mars in his orbit on the latter
date should be about 90° ahead of his place on the former date ; and
it is obvious that, the place of the Earth being approximately the
same for the two dates, the difference between the geocentric posi-
tions of Mars, a superior planet, cannot possibly be only 3°.27, as
Professor Turein gives it. This requirement of a difference of
nearly ninety degrees in the two orbital positions of Mars is con-
firmed — if it need confirmation — by a recalculation of these posi-
tions. Using Vince's Tables of Mars,1 I obtained as the mean

1 A Complete System of Astronomy, by the Rev. S. Vince, vol. Ill, 2d ed.,
London, 1823. The Tables of Mars by the U. S. Naval Observatory have not yet

The Date and Interpretation of Chaucer's Complaint of Mars. 1 09

orbital position of Mars at mean noon, April 12, 1371, 254° 02' 48".7
and for April 12, 1379, 345° 22' 56".5, giving a difference of 91°
20' o7".8.

We may therefore be prepared to find that the geocentric positions
obtained by Professor Turein are inaccurate. I find the geocentric
long, of Mars for mean noon, April 12, 1371, to be 284° 22' 10", and
for April 12, 1379, to be 6°28'35".1 The geocentric positions of
Venus obtained in the same way are : for 1371, 52° 49' 19"; for 1379,
49° 58' 39". By the use of Newcomb's Tables of Venus and Tables of
the Sun,2 and logarithms of seven places, I obtained somewhat more
accurate positions for Venus, viz., for 1371, 52° 43*35", for 1379,
49° 54' 44"."

appeared ; Vince's were the best accessible to me when I made my calculations,
and although since 1823 some of the perturbations of Mars have been more
accurately determined, the sum of the errors in Vince cannot exceed a few
seconds.

1 The mean long, in Orbit has been given already. For 1371 the true long, in
Orbit is 243° 41' 27"; the true long, on the Ecliptic, referred to the mean equinox
of the date, is 243° 40' 54", subject to a correction of — 13"-4 for nutation; the
logarithm of the Curtate Distance is 10.172672. The true long, of the Earth is
209° 59' 40"; log. Rad. Vector 10.003275. The geocentric long, was obtained by
the well-known formula: tan \ (A — E) = tan (45° — 6) tan i (A + E). For
1379 the data are : true long, in Orbit = 349° 36' 55"; true long, on Ecliptic from
M. Eq. = 349° 37' 45"; log. C. D. = 10.143929. True long. Earth = 210° 03' 54";
log. R. = 10.003349. Inasmuch as in these calculations, as well as those which
follow, the long, is referred to the mean equinox of the date, the correction for the
precession of the equinoxes applied by Turein to the positions of the signs of the
zodiac is already accounted for in the results here given.

2 Astronomical Papers prepared for the use of the American Ephemeris and
Nautical Almanac, vol. VI; pt. i, Tables of the Sun; pt. iii, Tables of Venus ;
Washington, 1895. For the trigonometrical functions I used Georg's Freiherrn
von Vega Logarithmisch-Trigonometrisches Handbuch, 62^ Aufl., bearb. v. Dr. C.
Bremiker, Berlin, 1878.

3 Perhaps I ought to state that I did not think it necessary to take account of
corrections for aberration ; in view of the fact that in a calculation made for
April 12, 1372, I found by Newcomb's method the aberration of the Sun corrected
for the secular variation to be — 2o".336, and that our problem gives us leeway of
twenty-four hours, this seemed a superfluous refinement, as did also the correction
of the results by Vince and Newcomb for the difference in long, between Green-
wich and Oxford.

1 1 o John Matthews Manly.

Venus and Mars are, therefore, not very near a conjunction at
either date. In 1371 the distance between them is 128°, in 1379 43°.
In both years, it is true, Mars is direct and Venus retrograde ; ' but
in 1379 the conjunction will not occur until May 20, thirty-eight
days later, at which time Venus will have ceased to retrograde and
will be moving direct very slowly, while Mars will be moving swiftly
enough to overtake her ; and in 1371 the indicated conjunction will
not occur at all, as Mars becomes retrograde and Venus direct.

The question of the date of the poem must be regarded as still
open for discussion. If the astronomical tables used by Chaucer
himself were accessible, they would obviously, in the present prob-
lem, take precedence of all others, for we are concerned to know,
not what the actual positions of the planets were, but what Chaucer
supposed them to be. The tables "of the reuerent clerks, frere I.
Somer and frere N. Lenne," cannot, however, be found this side of
London, I suppose; I have therefore been obliged to content myself
with a set of the Alphonsine Tables, printed at Venice in \$2\? That
there are differences of any importance between these tables and
those used by Chaucer will hardly be believed by any one who has
compared several of the older tables. The results thus obtained for
Venus and Mars are as follows :

1 This may be ascertained by inspecting the heliocentric positions of the Earth
and the two planets. An inferior planet is retrograde when in its inferior con-
junction with the Sun, and for a short time before and after. Venus, it will be
observed, is in both instances very near to such a conjunction. A superior planet
is retrograde when in opposition or near it. But even in 1371, Mars will not be in
opposition until more than two months later.

2 Alfonsi Hispaniarum Regis Tabulae et L. Gaurici Artium doctoris egregii
Theoremata. These tables were, of course, constructed for the longitude of
Toledo ; in the ensuing calculations, in applying the correction in time for the
longitude of Oxford, I have followed the table in this volume in making the cor-
rection 32 m. 53 s., although the true difference is, according to the Connaissance
des Temps for 1893, only 10 m. 57 s. In a problem like ours, in which the time
of day is not stated, a much greater difference than either of these might obviously
be neglected without affecting the result materially ; but the inclusion of the
correction entailed little extra labor. The equation of the time for the inequality
of days might also be neglected ; and, indeed, I have made only an approximate
equation ; the limits being 3 m. 30 s. and 3 m. 44 s., I have been content to apply
the former throughout the calculations.

The Date and Interpretation of Chaucer's Complaint of Mars, 1 1 1

VENUS. MARS.

April 12, 1369, 2s 01° 29' 33" 8« 00° 24' 56"

" " 1370, o 06 46 29 i 25 42 04

" " 1371, i 23 ii 21 9 15 27 38

" " 1372, I 14 30 50 2 09 36 OI

" " !373> JI 2I IO 20 10 12 44 31

" " 1374, 2 14 13 17 2 22 57 51

" " 1375. o 25 ii 49 ii 02 45 24

" " 1376, ii 15 32 26 3 07 35 29

" " '377» 2 02 04 28 ii 20 48 45

" " 1378, o 07 24 42 3 23 20 56

" " J379> * 20 32 38 o 06 26 30

" " 1380, 1151031 41331 12

" " 1381, II 21 41 12 O 22 05 26

" " 1382, 2 14 27 26 5 13 29 46

" " 1383, o 25 52 ii i 06 13 34

" " 1384, ii 15 20 58 7 06 26 37

" " 1385, 2 02 40 04 I 20 38 36

" " 1386, o 08 02 57 9 01 21 31

" " 1387, i 17 4i 07 2 03 58 39

" " 1388, i 15 49 44 10 03 37 17

" " 1389, ii 22 ii 59 2 17 49 40

" " 139°. 2 14 39 34 10 25 28 43

" " 139'. ° 26 32 07 3 01 35 50

" " 1392, ii 15 10 51 ii 14 22 30

" " 1393. 2 03 14 13 3 17 02 36

" " 1394, o 08 41 17 o oo 36 05

" " »395' i 14 38 12 4 04 55 39

" " I396. ' l6 39 °2 ° l6 32 39

" " X397> ii 22 43 01 3 oo 02 28

" " 1398, 2 14 51 07 i oo 55 04

" " 1399. o 27 ii 55 6 13 15 57

" " 1400, ii 15 04 49 i 15 32 14

The trustworthiness of these results may be tested by comparing

the positions here given for 1371 and 1379 with those obtained by

modern methods.1 The agreement is obviously not such as would

satisfy a modern astronomer, but it is as close as could be expected

between tables that are reasonably accurate for any epoch and

1 It may be worth recording that for 1372 the geocentric place of Venus ob-
tained by the use of Newcomb's Tables and the method explained above is
is 14° 53' 56", and that of Mars obtained from Vince is zs 09° 55' 50".

112 John Matthews Manly.

tables that were not scrupulously accurate even for the epoch of
their calculation. Accepting the results as approximately correct,
we may proceed to the inquiry whether there was any year between
1369 and 1400 when Chaucer would have had presented to his eyes
a conjunction that fulfilled the conditions stated in the poem.

It appears at once that there are only four years that have the
slightest claim to consideration, 1374, 1385, 1392, and 1394. Three
of these may be disposed of by the single circumstance that the con-
junction does not occur in the proper sign. In 1374 both planets
are in Gemini, and eight degrees apart ; the daily motion of Venus
is +62' 31", that of Mars is +34' 54";* Venus will therefore over-
take Mars in about sixteen days, when he is just entering Cancer.
In 1392 they are in Pisces, and only one degree apart; they are
therefore still in conjunction, and have been for some time, as the
daily motion of Mars is +50' 25" and that of Venus +51' 38". In
1394 they are at the beginning of Aries, eight degrees apart, and
both direct of motion ; this conjunction, therefore, also occurred in
Pisces. The situation in 1385 demands closer scrutiny: Mars is in
Taurus, Venus occupies the position which in the poem she is sup-
posed to occupy, not on the day of the entrance of Phcebus into
Taurus, but several days afterward. There is, so far as I can see,
nothing to prevent any-one of a speculative turn from holding that
this situation may have suggested to Chaucer the idea of his poem ;
but not even the most accommodating of interpreters could maintain
that the actual situation agrees with that set forth in the poem. The
actual partile conjunction2 had taken place twenty-four days earlier,
on March 19, when the planets were both at the beginning of the
fifth degree of Taurus. As both were direct of motion, and Venus
moving about 32 '30" more in a day than Mars, they remained within
a degree of each other for nearly two days. That is to say, the
separation from the conjunction occurred, if the conjunction be partile,
twenty-two days before the entrance of Phoebus into Taurus. If,

1 I indicate direct motion by + , retrograde by — .

2 Venus and Mars are in partile conjunction when they are posited in the same
degree ; they are in platic conjunction when less than six or eight degrees apart ;
see below for a discussion of the question.

The Date and Interpretation of Chaucer's Complaint of Mars. 113

however, it be argued that it was not partile, but platic, we must
then face the fact that the platic conjunction began some sixteen
days earlier than the partile, when both planets were in the house of
Mars, not, as the poem requires, in that of Venus. Moreover, the
separation even from the platic conjunction would occur some eight
days before the entrance of Phoebus into Taurus. As the position
of Mercury at this time may seem to some to have a bearing upon
the problem, it may be recorded that on April 12 the place of Mer-
cury is is 19° 35' 09". A fuller discussion of the situation of this
planet as described in the poem may be found below, p. 123; here
let it suffice to note" that he precedes Phoebus and would, therefore,
if the situation were transferred to the poem, warn the lovers of his
approach. On all these grounds, therefore, but mainly on the ground
that Venus leaves Mars long before the entrance of Phoebus into the
faleys, it seems impossible to accept the situation in 1385 as agree-
ing with that described ; and this carries with it the conclusion that
to draw from the astronomical data any inference as to the year in
which the poem was composed would be, to say the least, hazardous.1

If Chaucer had in mind an actual conjunction, he may have found
it in some list of observations or calculations, such, for example, as
that of Ebn Jounis, printed in part in Delambre's Histoire deTastrono-
mie du moyen age. But it may well have been an entirely imaginary
case. That this is probable, will, I think, be suggested by the details
which a careful examination of the poem discloses. I shall follow
the order of the poem itself, commenting upon matters astrological,
as well as astronomical.

Precisely the manner in which Mars by "hevenish revolucioun "
lias " wonne Venus his love " (11. 30-31), I do not understand. It is
to be noted, however, that, according to astrology, Venus is the only
planet that is friendly to Mars.2 It seems probable, therefore, that

1 It will perhaps be asked whether, after the usage then current, Chaucer may
not have had in mind a mean conjunction rather than a true one. The reply to
this is that the old astronomy makes the mean motions of Venus and the Sun
identical.

2 " Mars diligit venerem solam et ipsa eum : ceteros odit." Guido honatus de
forliuio. [Liber Astronomicus^\ Decem continens tractatus Astronomie [Augs-
burg, 1491], fol. i, 8 b. " Et arnica martis est Venus et ceteri planete odio habent

1 1 4 John Matthews Manly.

he has come into a good familiarity (either trine or sextile aspect)
with her ; * and the ascription of this to " hevenish revolucioun,"
rather than to the motions of the planets themselves, would seem to
suggest that the reference here, though" in no other passage of the
poem, is to the mundane rather than the zodiacal aspects.2 This
might help to explain how the nature of Mars is changed by Venus
(11. 32-42). Certainly in nativities the influence of Mars may be
entirely changed by the aspect of Venus.3 Although this will explain

eum et plus lupiter et sol." Abdilazi, fol. cc, 7 b. As this edition differs from
that used by Professor Skeat, I will give the title and colophon: " LIBELLVS
YSAGOGICVS ABDILAZI. ID EST SER- | VI GLORIOSI DEI : QVI
DICITVR ALCHABITIVS | AD MAGISTERIVM IVDITIORVM ASTRO-
RVM : | INTERPRET ATVS A IOANNE HISPALENSI. SCRI | PTVMQVE
IN EVNDEM A IOHANNE SAXONIE | EDITUM VTILI SERIE CON-
NEXVM INCIPIVNT." " Finitwr fcriptum fuper Alchabitiu/w ordinatuwz per
Iohanne#» de | faxonia in villa parifiewfi anno. 1331°. Correctuwz per artiuw
et | medicine doctorem dominum Bartholomeum de Al- | ten de nufia. Impreffum
arte ac diligentia Erhardi rat- | dolt de Augusta Imperante lohanne Mocenico
Ve- | netiaruw duce. Anno falutifere incarnationis. 1485. | Venetijs | "

Cf. also IsagogcB astrologies iudiciaritz, p. xli a, Opera Math. I. Schoneri, Norin-
bergae, MDLI.

1 " Aspectus quartus & quintus dicuntur Trini, inter quos est distantia centum
& uiginti graduum, Tertij siue trini autem dicuntur hi aspectus, quia tertia Zodiaci
pars est inter ipsos, & hi aspectus sunt integrae amicitiae, sed sextus & septimus
aspectus dicuntur sextiles, quia distant per sexaginta gradus quae est sexta pars
Zodiaci, atque hi aspectus sunt amicitiae semiplenae." loannis Hispalensis Isagoge
in astrologiam, cap. xxii (Epitome totius astrologies, conscripta k loanne Hispalensi
Hispano Astrologo celeberrimo, ante annos quadringentos, Ac nunc primum in
lucem edita . . . Nori[n]bergae, MDXLVIII).

2 " Aspectus etiam fit paribus modis, scilicet per gradus aequales, uel per lati-
tudinem terrae. Per gradus aequales est, ut quot gradus compraehendit de signo,
totidem prospiciat alterius signi, uel aspectu opposition is, uel quadrati, uel tertij,
uel sextilis. Sed per latitudinem fit, sicut per modum directionis domorum, in
quacunque regione. Vt per quot gradus fuerit, in aliqua domo totidem gradus
prospiciat alterius domus inuentae, secundum terrae latitudinem." I. Hisp., Isagoge,
cap. xxvii.

8 Cf . Schoneri Isagogce, xci b : " Si Mars dispositor spiritus, fortunatus fuerit, et
associatus Veneri fortunatae, natus amabit socios suos, amabit uoluptates, gaudia,
& tripudia, & iocos moderates, parcus, quietus, uerecundus & sapiens."

In his commemoratione universarum partium Alchabitius discusses " Pars dilec-
tionis et concordie, id est pars ueneris. . . . Pars animositatis et audacie id est
martis." Abdilazi, fol. dd, 8 b.

The Date and Interpretation of Chaitcer's Complaint of Mars. 115

most of the statements in 11. 29-49 (see especially 39-40 and 41-42),
I am by no means confident that some other supposition might not
be more satisfactory. The rest of the allusions are less difficult.

Thus be they knit, and regnen as in heven
By loking most (11. 50-51).

The phrase " as in heven " may be intended to direct the reader's
attention henceforth to the zodiacal, or celestial, aspects and relations.
By " loking " no doubt only the favorable aspects,1 trine and sextile,
are intended, as Professor Skeat suggests.

From the agreement, 1. 53, that " Mars shal entre, as faste as he
may glyde, into her nexte paleys," I think we may infer not only, as
Professor Skeat does, that Mars was direct of motion, but also that
he was swift of course ; swift he certainly was, as being less than 90°
from the Sun.2 This would, to be sure, involve some inconsistency
with 1. 129, in which, when even nearer the Sun, he is said to pass
"but oo steyre [= degree] in dayes two"; but Chaucer may have
assigned to him there only his mean motion. That Venus, too, is
swift of course is shown, not only by the fact that she overtakes
Mars, but also by the expression, " And he preyde her to haste her
for his sake " (1. 55), by her position in her epicycle, and by the ex-
press statement in 11. 69-70, where, indeed, the poet may again be
thinking of the mean motion.3

1 It may be noted that a conjunction is not, by most astrologers, called an
aspect. It is, indeed, treated with the aspects by Messahala (see Chaucer's
Astrolabe, ed. Skeat, p. 101); but it is excluded from the seven enumerated by
Johannes Hispalensis, Isagoge, cap. xxii ; Schoner, op. at., xxxiiii b, distinguishes
them; and Wilson, Diet, of Astral., ed. 1885, p. 100, says expressly: "Many
authors, however, deny the conjunction to be an aspect, because the stars do not
behold each other."

2 " Est autem mediocris, cum ab una die in alium uadit tantum, quantum est
cursus planetse mediatus unius diei, uelox est, cum plus uadit, tardus cum minus.
. . . Tres superiores distantes, a Sole minus nonaginta gradibus sunt ueloces, si
nonaginta mediocres, si plus tardi." I. Hisp., Isagoge, cap. xxiiii. The marginal
gloss to this passage gives the mean motion of Mars as 31' "27" and that of Venus
as 59'oS", which are the amounts ordinarily given.

8 Professor Skeat seems to have forgotten, in the latter part of his note on
these lines, that Chaucer could not possibly allude to, or know anything about,
the orbital periods of the planets. The motions of the Excentric and the Epi-

1 1 6 John Matthews Manly.

Professor Skeat's interpretation of "into her nexte paleys" (1. 54)
seems to imply that the agreement was made in Aries.. I am not
sure that the expression means more than " the nearest of her two
houses, Libra and Taurus." Taurus was especially appropriate for
the meeting, for it is the nocturnal mansion of Venus, whereas Libra
is the diurnal,1 and it is an unfortunate, hurtful, crooked sign, whereas
Libra is straight, sweet, and fortunate.2

The waiting of Mars in the mansion of Venus is said to be espe-
cially painful, for two reasons. In the first place, because he is there
in great peril (11. 58-60). This is because Taurus is in general an
unfortunate sign, and in particular is the detriment, or fall, of Mars.8
"Planets in detriment," says Wilson (p. 26), "are reckoned unfortu-
tunate and weak, and it is a symbol of poverty, distress, loss, and
subjugation." This can be removed or overcome only by a donatio
virtutis from Venus, which would occur if Mars could see Venus ;
that is, if he were configurated with her in a favorable aspect.4 The
second cause of his distress is that he is in solitude. This is defined by

For hit stood so that ilke tyme, no wight
Counseyled him, ne seyde to him welcome.

Venus herself cannot say welcome to him, for a welcome or recep-

cycle were, of course, known to him, and he would have given the former as
(nearly) 487 days for Mars and one year for Venus, and the latter as 779 days for
Mars and 583 for Venus ; cf. Thomas Blundeuile, The Theoriques of the seven
Planets, London, 1602, pp. 69, 72, ill, 112.

1 Cf. Wilson, Diet., pp. 21, 294, and Schoneri Isagogce, xxxvii, xxxviii. It is
also the sign in which Venus is said to rejoice : " Signa autem in que planete dum
intrant dicuntur gratulari in eis et domini eorum secundum dorothium sunt hec.
Saturnus dum intrat Aquarium gaudere dicitur . . . Venus in Tauro." Abdilazi,
fol. aa, 3 b. Cf. Decem tract., fol. c, i b.

2 Cf. Wilson, pp. 364, 366 ; Schoner, xxvii ; and J. Hispalensis, capp. ii, vii.

8 According to Schoner, p. xliiii a, a debility of two degrees attaches to the
" Domus septima & domo planetae, id est detrimentum"; cf. also p. xxxii a.
Skeat, Astrolabe, p. Ixvii, follows the marginal gloss to Johannes Hispalensis in
making detrimentum equivalent to occasus and dedecus to casus : " Honorem
uocat quod alij exaltationem, dedecus id quod alij casum, occasum uero, quod alij
detrimentum appellant." — Op. cit., cap. i.

4 See the long explanation and example given by Schoner, p. xxxxiii (i.e.,
xxxviii) b.

77/i? Date and Interpretation of Chaucer's Complaint of Mars. 117

tion is established, when one planet is in the dignity of another, by
the other planet coming into sextile or trine with it,1 and we have
just seen that it is the absence of this configuration which leaves
Mars in distress. No other planet, we may infer, in one of whose
dignities Mars is at that time, is so configured with him. If the
position of Mars within the sign were accurately given, it would be
easy to draw up a list of these planets ; the possible ones are the
Moon (by exaltation and triplicity), and Mercury, Jupiter, and Saturn
(each by a term). We must certainly regard the Moon as incon-
junct, and probably also Mercury, as Mars seems, from later indica-
tions, to have advanced at«least as far as the term belonging to that
planet (7°-i4°). The situation of Mars, it will be observed, could
hardly be worse; he is peregrine and feral, in his fall, in an evil
house.

In 11. 79, 85 we are told that the conjunction took place in a
" chambre amid the paleys." I cannot find that chamber was ever an
established technical name for any of the subdivisions of the sign as
house. Ptolemy, however, says, after speaking of terms: "The signs
have been subdivided by some persons into parts still more minute,
which have been named places and degrees of dominion. Thus the
twelfth part of a sign, or two degrees and a half, has been called a
place, and the dominion of it given to the signs next succeeding.
Other persons again, pursuing various modes of arrangement, attri-
bute to each planet certain degrees, as being aboriginally connected
with it, in a manner somewhat similar to the Chaldaic arrangement
of the terms." 2 From Johannes Hispalensis and his commentator
we may learn what these subdivisions were. The latter says, com-
menting upon the expression " dominus primae partis " in chapter i :
" Partes hoc loco uocantur trientes, siue decani signorum," and con-
tinuing, " Nouena nona pars signi est, complectens 3 gradus cum
triente unius. Sic dodecatomerion duodecima pars signi est 2
gradus cum semisse." If we examine all the subdivisions of Taurus,

1 On the possibility of the establishment here of a reception by Mars and
Venus being each in the house of the other, see below, p. 123, n. 3.

2 Ptolemy's Tetrabiblos or Quadripartite, trans. J. M. Ashmand, London, 1822,
p. 53. See also the remarks on " Cylenius tour," below, p. 119.

1 1 8 John Matthews Manly.

as given by Johannes Hispalensis, chapter ii, we shall find that
Venus has a term, consisting of degrees 1-8, a decanate, consisting
of degrees i-io, a novene, 13^-1 6§°, and three dodecatemoria,
i°-2i°, i7^°-2o°, and 25°-27^°. That the second dodecatemorion
is indicated here, is perhaps little better than a guess. Some con-
firmation of the guess I once thought might be derived from the fact
that upon the chamber of Venus the rays of the Sun are said to strike
lightly as he enters the palace gate.1 According to Wilson (p. 401)
and Heydon2 (p. 59), a planet is under the Sun's beams when within
seventeen degrees of that luminary. This would agree fairly well
with the distance of the second dodecatemorion of Venus ; but
Schoner (p. xxxvi a), Johannes Hispalensis (capp. xiii, xxiii), Alcha-
bitius (fol. bb 7 b), and Guido Bonatus (fol. g 3 a), give fifteen
degrees as the limit within which a planet is sul> radiis solaribus.

That this chamber, whatever it may be, should be decorated with
paintings of bulls, is not strange ; but, inasmuch as the colors of
Taurus are red and citron, it may seem strange that the bulls should
be white. White, however, is one of the colors signified by
Venus.3

The weeping of Venus (1. 89) at her separation from Mars could
of course be sufficiently accounted for on non-astrological grounds ;
but it is at least interesting to observe the appropriateness of what
is here said about her, and of the statement in 1. 94 of Mars that
"his nature was not for to wepe." Johannes Hispalensis says:
"Mars est calidus et siccus absque temperie." " Venus est humida
et frigida temperate." " Caeterum Venus significat humiditatem,
. . .' Mars uentos a dextro seu meridie, et calorem a septentrione
sinistro." " Et quoties Saturnus coniungitur uel corpore uel radio

1 Of course "with torch in hand" is clear enough ; but interesting illustrations
of the conception may be found in the figures of the Sun given by Schoner, pp.
xxxiii a, xxxiiii b. It is curious, but perhaps not significant, that one of the old
names of Aldebaran, the eye of the Bull (the constellation, not the sign), is
Facula, in Greek Aa/wraStas and Aa^.7rai/pas ; see Tabula Resolute, p. Ixxiiii
(Schoneri Opera), Ptolemy, p. 25 and n., and Liddell-Scott, s. v. Aa/juraSias.

2 The New Astrology, by C. Heydon, Jr., ad ed., London, 1786.

3 On both points, cf. Wilson, p. 16, and Schoneri Isagoga, p. xxx a. " Et ex
coloribus habet [Venus] album." Decent tract., fol. g 4 b.

The Date and Interpretation of Chaucer's Complaint of Mars. 119

Soli uel Lunae, aut Jupiter Mercuric, uel Venus Marti, significant
pluuiam futuram." 1

In connection with 11. 97-102, it may not be amiss to refer to the
armed figure of Mars in the plate given by Schoner, p. xxxiiii. Lines
103-4 and 107 are explained by what has already been said about
the motion of Mars as compared with that of Venus, and his relations
to the sign Taurus.

"Half the stremes of thyn yen" (1. in) may be, as Professor
Skeat says, " fanciful," but it is not particularly obscure. It does
not allude to " the fyry sparkes " of 1. 96, but to the lux, or rays, or
medietas orbis, of the planet. There is, indeed, some disagreement
among astrologers as to the extent of these rays in the case of Mars.
Johannes Hispalensis gives it as eight degrees.2 According to
Wilson (p. 314) and the editor of Ptolemy (p. 55), it is only 7°3o'.
We may assume the more ancient of these views as correct, and
conclude that Venus has separated from Mars by four degrees.
How much time has elapsed since the conjunction was perfect, could
be determined with precision if we knew the exact positions of the
two planets, from which their daily motions could be ascertained.
At the rate of their mean motion, the time required for a separation
of four degrees would be about eight days. As they are both swift
of course, we may safely infer that Venus is now more than eight
degrees ahead of the place of the conjunction, and Mars more than
four.

It is apparently still later than this that Venus flees " into Cylenius
Tour" (1. 113). "Tour" is, I take it, not a mere synonym for
mansion, as Professor Skeat suggests. I know no other example
of the use of the word as an astrological expression, but Ptolemy
says (p. 54): " Each planet is also said to be in its proper chariot, or

1 I. I lisp., Isagoge, capp. xvii, xviii ; Libri quatuor, de iudicijs Astrologicis,
lib. I, cap. vi (printed with the hagoge). See also Schoneri Isagogez, pp. xiii b,
xxx ; Ptolemy, p. 46; and Wilson, s. vv. Planets and Weather.

2 " Lux octo graduum," Isagoge, cap. xvii. Cf. " sed secundum ueritatem incipit
aspectus, per tot gradus ante coniunctionem, quot sunt gradus lucis superioris, et
tantundem perseverat, per totidem gradus post coniunctionem." Ib., cap. xxii.
" Quam hie uocat lucem planetae, earn alij medietatem orbis appellant." Ib.t cap.
xiii, gloss. Alchabitius, Guido, and Schoner also give eight degrees.

izo John Matthews Manly.

throne, 01 otherwise triumphantly situated, when it holds familiarity
with the place which it occupies by two, or more, of the prescribed
modes of connection." Now we know from a later passage (1. 121)
that Venus is at this time in the first two degrees of Gemini, which is
the mansion of Mercury (Cylenius1); but the first six degrees of the
sign form a term which^belongs to Mercury ; and these six degrees,
it should seem, are what is meant by " Cylenius tour," since they
are his by a twofold right.

"With voide cours" (1. 114) is a technical phrase meaning that,
after separating from the conjunction, Venus passed through the rest
of the sign without coming into a familiarity with any planet.2

Alas ! and ther so hath she no socour,

For she ne fond ne saw no maner wight (11. 1 15-16)

explains itself, and it also confirms the interpretation of " no wight
counseyled him " (67), as including not only familiarity by conjunc-
tion, but also familiarity by aspect.

The "litil might" which Venus is said (1. 117) to have in her
present situation in Gemini depends not upon the fact that she is
" half-way from her exaltation to her depression," but rather upon
the small number of dignities and large number of debilities which
she now has. In this part of Gemini Venus is peregrine, and has
no dignity from her position ; her only fortitudines, indeed, are inde-
pendent of her position, and arise from her direct motion (valued at
4), and her swiftness of course (valued at i); but these are more
than overbalanced by her peregrinatio (a debility of 5), her evacuatio
cursus (2), and probably also by a feralitas (3) ; certainly shortly
afterwards she acquires another debility of 2 by entering the gradus

1 There could, of course, be no question as to the meaning of Cylenius. If one
were fully persuaded that it was from Statius that Chaucer took the story of the
" brooch of Thebes," the occurrence of Cyllenius in the Thebaid might be brought
into connection with this passage ; but the name is not uncommon in mediaeval
Latin.

2 " Cum planeta separatur ab aliquo per coniunctionem uel per aspectum, & non
iungitur alteri per corpus uel per aspectum, quamdiu fuerit planeta in eodem
signo, dicitur cursu uacuus, hoc tamen debet intelligi iuxta orbes uel radios plane-
tarum." Schoneri Isagogte, p. xxxvii b ; cf. Wilson, sub Void of Course.

The Date and Interpretation of Chaucer's Complaint of Mars. 121

putealis.1 Moreover, Venus is said to be debilis when in a masculine
sign ; and Gemini is masculine.2

Professor Skeat's explanation of the "cave" (1. 119) is, as has
been assumed above, entirely correct. He is also certainly right in
holding that "derk " (1. 120) implies no real diminution of the light
of Venus. The connection of " derk " and " smoking " would lead
one to think of the fact that besides gradus puteales there are gradus
tenebrosi and gradus fumosi;3 but unfortunately no astrological
authority, so far as I have been able to discover, assigns any smoky
degrees to Gemini ; and the first four degrees (in one^of which Venus
now is) are light (luctdi\ not dark. If "derk "and "smoking"
here are suggested by the astrological expressions, we must assume
on the part of Chaucer either temporary forgetfulness or poetic
license.

That Venus remains "a natural day" in the cave depends upon
the fact that her mean daily motion is 59' 08".

Mars waxes so feeble that he nearly dies (11. 127-28), because of
the approach of the Sun. He comes first sub radiis solaribus, whereby

1 A planet does not cease to be vacuus cursu until it is joined to another "cor-
pore uel aspectu," says Schoner, loc. cit. A planet is peregrine, says Wilson
(p. 310), when it is "posited in a sign where it has no essential dignity of any
kind " ; but this is certainly inaccurate, for the term is an essential dignity (see
Wilson, p. 27), and every planet (excluding the luminaries) has one term in each
sign (see Wilson, p. 379). Schoner (p. xxxxiii, i.e., xxxviii) defines it better:
" Peregrinus dicitur planeta, cum non fuerit in aliqua suarum dignitatum essen-
tialium." The term in Gemini belonging to Venus is at the very end of the sign.
Schoner (loc. cit.) defines feralis : " Feralis autem dicitur, cum fuerit planeta . . .
in aliquo signo solus, absque radijs aliorum." Alchabitius (fol. cc 5 a) says : " Et
cum fuerit planeta in aliquo signo : et aliquis planeta non aspexerit hoc signum
alter planeta quamdiu in eodem fuerit dicitur feralis uel agrestis." " De gradibus
putealibus. Et in signis sunt quidam gradus qui uocantur putei ; cum fuerit
planeta in aliquo eorum dicitur esse in puteo." Ib., fol. bb I a. Cf. the comment
of John of Saxony (Ib., fol. gg 8 a) : " Et si ceciderit in gradu tenebroso significat
duritiem et tarditatem et horribilem rem et tenebrosam et malam. Et cum
ceciderit in gradu fusco uel vmbroso uel fumoso uel in gradu vacuo significat
modicum horribile. Et si ceciderit planeta in gradu putei abibit eius pulchritudo
et aspectus et debilitatur in significatione sua."

2 Schoneri Isagoga, xliii b and xxviii a.
8 See the table, Schoneri Isagogte, xli b.

122 John Matthews Manly.

he suffers a debility of 4, and later he is combust, a debility of 6.1
When combust, says Wilson (p. 17), " its influence is then said to be
burnt up or destroyed."

Mercury is certainly swift in motion, and it may be that, as Pro-
fessor Skeat suggests, this swiftness is the basis of the application to
him of the word chevauche (1. 144); but it is possible that the basis
is rather that in a poem in which the planets are personified, he is
appropriately made a knight, who welcomes to his castle a distressed
lady. He is away from home, — is, indeed, returning after an
absence of a year ; what more fitting than to speak of his expedition
as a chevauche ?

I have little doubt that Professor Skeat has given the proper ex-
planation of " Venus valance," which he rightly calls the most diffi-
cult expression in the poem. It is possible, however, that "valance"
is from valentia, and is used here for the place of Venus's power, that
is, her mansion Taurus ; for the arguments produced by Professor
Skeat (op at., I, 501) to prove that Mercury must be in Aries are by
no means convincing. Mercury can, to be sure, never get more than
twenty-nine degrees away from the Sun, and consequently is in either
Aries or Taurus ; moreover, it seems a just inference that if Mercury-
had preceded the Sun at his entrance into Taurus, that fact would
have been mentioned.2 But it is now several days since this entrance ;
that it is only two, as Professor Skeat assumes, I see no reason to
maintain ; but even were it only two, Mercury might be following the
Sun so closely as to be now in Taurus. What persuades me that
Professor Skeat's explanation is, after all, correct, is that Mercury,
from his position, sees his palace, and, saluting Venus, receives her
as his friend. I cannot think, with Professor Skeat, that in astrology

1 " Combustus dicitur planeta, quando est cum sole per sex gradus ante uel
post. Sed post sex gradus uel ante, usque in 1 5 gradus, dicitur oppressus. . . .
Estque ea maxima debilitas, quae planetis contingere potest. . . . Agnoscitur
autem planetarum combustio per suorum orbium medietates." Schoneri Isagoga,
p. xxvi a, i.e., xxxvi a. Wilson gives the distances as 7° 30' and 17°. In either
case the combust area must be reduced by the sixteen minutes immediately before
and after the Sun which constitute Cazimi, wherein a planet is relieved of its
debility and receives a fortitude of 5.

2 Cf. p. 113, above.

The Date and Interpretation of Chaucer's Complaint of Mars. 123

or in this poem a planet can see anything at the distance of a sign
— or less. Seeing must mean being in aspect with,1 and — disre-
garding the innovations of Kepler — can be accomplished only at
the definite distances of two, three, four, and six signs, plus or
minus half the sum of the planetary half-orbs. The relations of
Venus and Mercury to the Sun make it impossible that they should
ever be in any other aspect than the sextile. The sum of the half-
orbs of Venus and Mercury is i4°.2 Mercury is therefore somewhere
between 60° and 53° distant from Venus and his mansion. This
distance is also necessary to establish the reception mentioned.3
This would necessitate the movement of the planets by several
degrees, and the lapse of several days, since the Sun entered Taurus
on April 12 and put an end to the conjunction of Mars and Venus ;
but there is nothing in the text to interfere with this assumption, if

1 I do not mean by this to deny the validity of the configuration called
almug(u)ea, or visio facie ad faciem; but most astrologers seem to have confined it
to the relations of the planets to the luminaries. Guido Bonatus says (fol. h 7 b):
"De almuguea vero aliorum planetarum non curauerunt sapientes facere men-
tionem : quia non crediderunt in eis esse magnam vim : tamen quilibet eorum
habet suam almugeam." Alchabitius and his commentator agree with the major-
ity ; cf . foil, cc 4a and kk 3 a.

2 This is according to loann. Hisp., capp. xviii, xix. Modern writers (see
Wilson, p. 317) give the half-orb of Venus as eight degrees. Johannes Hispa-
lensis counts an aspect as perfect when the distance from partile (or agreement in
degree) is not greater than the half-orb of the inferior planet. If we accept seven
degrees as the half-orb of Venus, the mode of counting the platic aspect is imma-
terial, as the half-orb of Mercury is also seven degrees. In the discussion on page
1 1 2 above, I adopted, for the sake of argument, the mode most advantageous to
the view I was examining.

8 Wilson, it is true, says (p. 340) that a reception is established when two
planets are "posited in each other's houses"; but Wilson appears not to believe
in reception and probably does not understand it. Something more is required.
In each of the modes of reception defined by the older authors, the planets must
"see" each other; cf. Schoneri fsagogtz, p. xxxviii b. The reception in question
here is, I think, that of which Schoner says : " Maiorem uocant, quando planeta
iungitur alteri per corpus uel aspectum, aut per applicationem, & unus eorum est
in domicilio, uel exaltatione alterius, tune ille, cuius est domus uel exaltatio, recipit
alium quasi in suo hospitio, & hanc dicunt esse perfectam & mutuam receptionem."
That Venus is the friend of Mercury may be learned from any list of the amicitia
planetarum.

124 John Matthews Manly.

indeed it is not distinctly indicated in more than one passage of the
poem.

I have no doubt that I have overlooked * a number of astrological
allusions, and have failed to bring out the full significance of some
that I have discussed. But I think I have shown that the poem is
so packed with astrological allusions and conforms so closely to
astronomical relations and movements, that it can hardly be regarded
as anything else than a mere exercise of ingenuity in describing a
supposed astronomical event in terms of human action and emotion.
With the converse of this process we are familiar, and there are
more or less remote resemblances to the process itself which will
readily arise to the minds of all. Whether there may lie behind the
poem some hidden ligature connecting it with an amour8 of John
Holand and Isabel Langley, can perhaps never be definitely
decided. But we know how easily the existence of this poem and

1 I purposely omit several in regard to which I can add nothing to Professor
Skeat's notes.

2 The possibility that this occ\irred in 1379 is still far from being proved; but
I shall not discuss the matter, for I have no wish to attempt the feat of proving
its impossibility for every year between 1372 and the date of Isabel's reformation,
and that not for April 12 only, but for the whole year, — which is what would have
to be done in the absence of a definite date in the charge against them.

I cannot see, however, that the discovery of a year within the limits of Chaucer's
literary activity for the conjunction of the planets would in the slightest degree
affect the determination of the date of the supposed meeting of John Holand and
Isabel. The assumption that two such notable events occurred, either by chance
coincidence or by enforced obedience of planetary influence, in the same year, and
indeed, as some have seemed to argue, on the same day, would tax the credulity
of a Zadkiel.

The assumption that 1382 is the upper limit of the possible dates seems to have
no other foundation than Professor Skeat's hint that the brooch of Thebes may
be a sly allusion to the tablet of jasper given to Isabel by the king of Armenia.
If I believed the poem to allude to a human amour and could accept a tablet as a
brooch, I should incline rather to make 1382 the lower limit ; for if guesses were in
order, I should guess that Livon gave the brooch to Isabel when they met in Spain,
where she was from July, 1381, to October, 1382, and whither Livon of Armenia
went after escaping from the prison in which he had been confined for seven years.
Isabel mentioned the brooch in her will, not, I should guess, because it had been
much talked about, but because it was an interesting object which she had recently
— perhaps only a few months before — acquired. But this is neither here nor

The Date and Interpretation of Chaucer's Complaint of Mars. 125

the reputation of Isabel for .ghtness would suggest the connection
of the two ; gossip war probably governed by the same laws that
govern it to-day, and I am aware of no reason why a bit of gossip
should acquire .sanctity by five centuries of existence.

One wou'.d certainly expect that the description which Mars gives
of his nr.3tress would — if the poem indeed allude to a man and a
woman, — be free from astrological lore ; but examination discloses
the fa^t that, if not the sole, at least the sufficient, basis of this
description is the conventional set of qualities and accomplishments
attributed to the planet Venus. Mars says :

This is no feyned mater that I telle;

My lady is the verrey sours and welle

Of beaute, lust, fredom, and gentilnesse,

Of riche aray — how dere men hit selle ! —

Of al disport in which men frendly dwelle,

Of love and pley, and of benigne humblesse,

Of soun of instruments of al swetnesse ;

And therto so wel fortuned and thewed,

That through the world her goodnesse is yshewed. (11. 173-181.)

Compare : " If well dignified, the temper is even, quiet, mild, kind,
engaging, and sweet, very merry and cheerful, neat, dressy, fond of
music and every elegant amusement." l " Et ex magisteriis [habet
Venus] instrumenta ludorum ornamenta quoque et figuras pulchras
et ludos alearum et schacorum et saltationes et ocia . . . et universa
genera luxurie et compositiones coronarum et usus earum et pul-
chritudinem ac mundiciam uestimenta etiam et ornumenta. Aurum
et argentum et dilectionem ludos risus et gaudium et unguentis
diuersisque speciebus uti potationes et ebrietates : seque credit
omnibus : largitatem quoque signat et dilectionem diligentiam et
amorem iusticiam et domos orationis retinet quoque fidem: et signat
magisterium omnium signorum ueluti musicam etc. ... Et ex sub-
stantia que acquiritur propter pulchritudinem, ut sunt ornamenta
mulierum : et uestimenta earum margaritas atque picturas. Et ex

there. Even on the current assumption, are we to suppose that a tablet once
mentioned in a will ceases thereby to be obnoxious to allusion ?
1 Wilson, p. 17; cf. p. 288.

126 John Matthews Manly.

qualitate animi suauitatem et amicitu ' et commestionem et his
similia." l

All this emboldens me to think that the proy°r interpretation of
169-72 is also astrological. " Sheweth his presence" would then
mean "comes into the world." Any treatise on astrology will give
the information requisite for the interpretation of the passage, and it
is so well known that I will quote only one : " Nam si [Venus] aspexerit
eum \_sc. dominum primi domus] de septimo a trino aspectu diligetur
natus ab uxoribus dilectione perfecta. Et si aspexerit eum inde a
sextili aspectu diligetur ab uxoribus sed non dilectione perfecta:
immo erunt aliquando inter eos altricationes et iurgia et aliquaudo
diligent se inuicem : aliquando vero non : modo hoc modo illud. Et
si aspexerit eum de septimo quadrate aspectu tune parum gaudebit
natus cum uxore: et ut multum erunt inter eos aliquales altricationes
et non bene associabuntur simul. Si vero aspexerit eum de oppo-
sitione nunquam gaudebit natus cum uxore et magis timetur hoc cum
prima nee bene erit ei ab ea : et semper erunt rixe atque discordie
inter ipsos." 2 This conclusion is, perhaps, also confirmed by the
only possible interpretation of 11. 164-65.

Whatever one may think of the poem as a poem, it — perhaps
more than the treatise on the Astrolabe itself — makes clear that
even though Chaucer says of "retrograd," "combust" and " aspecte
infortunat": " theise ben obseruaunces of iudicial matiere & rytes of
paiens, in which my spirit ne hath no feith, ne no knowyng of hir
horoscopum," he is hardly open to the charge of ignorance, usually
brought by astrologers against those who have no faith.

JOHN MATTHEWS MANLY.

1 Abdilazi, foil, bb 7 b and 8 a ; cf. the comment, ib., fol. ii, 7 b, and Decem tract.,
fol. g 4, where the same statements appear in even greater detail.

2 Decem tract., fol. g 4 a.

THE MESSENGER IN ALISCANS.1

IN the Chanson d'Aliscans* there are the following difficulties and
inconsistencies which touch the purpose of this article :
i. Guillaume leaves Guiborc alone and practically defenceless in
Orange, yet she holds out against the immense army of the besiegers.
After the defeat of Aliscans, Orange is without defenders. Guiborc
says in the Porter's scene : "Toute sui seule, n'ai ot moi home nes
Fors cest portier et .i. clerc ordenes" (11. 1623-24). In the same
scene Guillaume liberates a body of prisoners, whom we may add
to the garrison of the city. The number of these prisoners varies in
the MSS., being 200 in the MS. of the Arsenal, and 30 in all or
nearly all of the others. Their number is also stated in the episode
of Orleans, where the MS. of the Arsenal gives 100, the others
generally 15. The correct reading is probably 30. With no garri-
son save women and these released prisoners, who, as Guillaume
says (2237), are too feeble to be of any value, Guiborc is supposed
to defend Orange during the time necessary for an army to be
mustered and to come to the rescue. According to 1. 5370 this
period was four months.

1 The nucleus of this article formed part of a paper read in March, 1895,
before the higher conference of M. G. Paris, in the Ecole des Plautes Etudes. That
I am greatly indebted to M. Paris all who are familiar with his conferences will
feel sure, and I take this opportunity of thanking him publicly, and with him
Professor Sheldon, whose kind criticism and many suggestions have been
invaluable.

2 There are the following editions of Aliscans: in Guillaume d' Orange, edited
by Jonckbloet, La Haye, 1854, two vols. ; Aliscans, by Guessard and Montaiglon
(Les Anciens Pottes de la France, X, Paris, 1870) ; Aliscans, by Rolin, Leipzig,
1894. Unless otherwise stated, the edition of Guessard and Montaiglon will be
quoted (line 5336 is counted twice in this edition, so that later numbers are too
small by one ; the necessary corrections have here been made). The basis of this
text is the MS. of the Arsenal. — The MSS. referred to will be indicated as in
Rolin (pp. Ixii, Ixiii): MS. of the Arsenal, a\ of Venice, M; of Berne, C ; of
Boulogne, m ; of London, L ; Bibl. Nat., 24,369, V; Bibl. Nat., 368, B ; Bibl. Nat.,
774, A ; Bibl. Nat., 1448, e ; Bibl. Nat., 2494, d; Bibl. Nat., 1449, b.

128 Raymond Weeks.

2. Guillaume leaves Orange disguised in the armor of Aerofle, a
Saracen whom he had killed. Thanks to this armor he had already
deceived the friends even of Aerofle (1410-17, 1704). Similarly, he
passes for Aerofle on leaving Orange (2053-61), but, arriving at
Orleans, he has so little the appearance of a Saracen that he is sus-
pected of being a spy (2092). A spy would certainly be dressed
like a Christian. Neither in the episode of Orleans nor in the
description of Guillaume's appearance at Mont Laon (2317-50) is
there anything to indicate that he is wearing the armor of Aerofle.1

3. The beautiful Arabian horse ridden by Guillaume and taken
by him from Aerofle (1172-75, 1252-55, 1313 ff.) can hardly be the
one so ridiculed by the people of Mont Laon (2290-95).

4. The episode of Orleans is full of inconsistencies.2 It serves
only to delay the action.3 Two of the difficulties are these : Ernaut,
commissioned to find Ermengart and Aymeri and inform them of the
defeat of Guillaume, finds them, and comes with them and three of
his brothers to Mont Laon. We are surprised to see, however, that
none of them shows any knowledge of the sudden disaster of Alis-
cans. Secondly, when Guillaume and Ernaut take off their helms
and embrace, the knights of Ernaut's suite come riding up. MS. a
reads : Quant le counurent, cascuns li rent salu. The better reading
is found in Rolin (2097) : Guillaume voient ne I ont pas couneu^ which is
followed by the line just quoted. According to a, le should refer to
the subject of toucha, two lines before, which indicates that there is
in a a gap of one line at this point. Especially is it probable that
Rolin has adopted the best reading in view of the fact that at Mont
Laon no one recognizes Guillaume.

5. The fact that Guillaume is not recognized at Mont Laon consti-
tutes the fifth grave difficulty. As will be seen from lines 2323,

1 Rolin, p. 73, note i, mentions this inconsistency. He believes, however, that
at Mont Laon Guillaume wears the armor of Aerofle. If one compares the
description of this armor in Jonckbloet, 1309-50, with the lines above mentioned
(Guessard, 2317-50), — one will see that there is no resemblance. This point will
be discussed later.

2 See Rolin, p. liv, Die Orteansepisode.

• Guessard attempts a defence of this episode, p. be.
4 So in </; see Rolin's Varianten, 1. 2220.

The Messenger in Alls cans. 129

233°> 234S~5S> and the context, it is not until he tells his name that
it is known who he is (2362-69). This point is made more clear from
the reading of Rolin (2241, 2242)' : "Vint a Guillaume sous 1 olivier
rame; Ne le connut, mes il 1 a salue." This again is the better
reading, since it avoids the abruptness of address shown in #, an
abruptness not in keeping with the fear felt by all at sight of the
unknown knight. It is surprising that Guillaume, by tradition the
central figure of the court for so many years, should be unrecognized.

6. We are further surprised at the humility of this terrible Guil-
laume, the scourge of his enemies, the terror of the whole court.
That the king and the courtiers should dare to insult him is in itself
astonishing, but the words spoken to the court underlings,

Dame Guibors, ki tant vos a antic's,
Par1 moi vos mande ke vos le secores.
For Dieu, signer, prenge vos ent pite" ;
Secords nos, grant aumoune fere's

(2435-38), are well-nigh incredible in the mouth of Guillaume.8

7. Lines 2379-86, in which Guillaume sends word to the king to
come out of the palace with his court to do him honor, contain an
unheard-of request,8 and go as much too far in one direction as the
humble words just quoted go in the other.

8. The king, learning that the strange knight is Guillaume, and
that he asks him and his court to come forth to meet him, bursts into
a rage, declaring with an execration that he refuses to see him again,
and that Guillaume is a demon, not a man. It seems, therefore, that
the king either knows or has a suspicion that there is some danger or
distress at Orange which is the cause of Guillaume's coming, pre-
sumably to ask aid. If, however, Guillaume has ridden almost without
stop from the field of Aliscans, how can the news of the defeat just
sustained have arrived ahead of him ? We have seen in the Orleans
episode that Ernaut, who had just left the king (2155), knew noth-
ing of his brother's disaster. Then the king cannot have known.

1 Also from that of A according to Jonckbloet, variant of 2615 ff.
2Cf. Rolin, p. 75, note 5. The words m'envoia, 2683, are also hard to accept.
Is Guillaume reduced to hiding behind the authority of Guiborc ?
8 Cf. Rolin, p. 74, note 4.

130 Raymond Weeks.

9. The manner in which Guillaume enters Orange on his return
from the court is unnatural. On arriving before the city he finds
that the Saracens have captured and burnt it. Their purpose being
to secure possession of Guiborc, who has taken refuge in the palace
Gloriette, they go away "por faire engin dont la tors fust quasse'e,"
etc. We read,

Rois Desrame's a sa barbe jure"e,
Ke Guibors ert a cevaus trainee,
Et en la mer no'i'e et esfondre'e

(3994-96). With an immense army at his disposal he finds no better
way to capture Guiborc than temporarily to abandon the siege.
Thanks to this abandonment Guillaume enters Orange without diffi-
culty, and from the walls of Gloriette he sees the arrival of the divi-
sions of the army from France.

10. Guiborc, in encouraging her husband to go for aid to Louis
at St. Denis, tells him that his father will come with all his sons
(1902-30). Having learned that the king is at Mont Laon, Guil-
laume goes thither and finds four of his brothers. One other turns
up at Orange before the battle, but the remaining one, Garin,
nowhere appears; hence there take part in the battle only five
brothers of Guillaume. None the less, the text mentions several
times the number six in describing the battle (see, for instance, 5972,
6252).

The general explanation which scholars would give of these incon-
sistencies would be that Aliscans, as we possess it, is a composite
poem. There can be no doubt of the truth of this explanation,
which was first put forth by Paulin Paris,1 supported by Jonckbloet,2
and opposed — though to a less degree than is commonly thought —
by Guessard and Montaiglon.8 It is my purpose in this article to
try to determine several of the elements which unite in Aliscans, by
showing that the messenger who goes for aid was, in the primitive

1 Hist. Lift, de la France, XXII, 515.

2 Guillaume d' Orange, II, 50.

8 Aliscans, pp. xxxiv, xxxv, Ix-lxxi, Ixxvi. Cf. Rolin, Aliscans, p. be; Gautier,
Epopees Francises, IV, 473. Cf., however, Becker, Die altfranz. Wilhelmsage,
1896, p. 48, whose words are not necessarily inconsistent with this view.

The Messenger in Aliscans. 131

form of the story, Bertrant (or Bertram), not Guillaume. I shall try
to prove incidentally that the defeat of Aliscans is posterior chrono-
logically to the victory of Aliscans, and that Vivien fought in both
battles. The data used will be principally the variants of the poem,
and the external evidence to be derived from an Italian source as
yet unutilized, the Storie Nerbonesi^

The Storie Nerbonesi of Andrea da Barberino is a vast prose com-
pilation, the sources of which are directly or indirectly, la matters de
France?' It recounts the fortunes of the family of Ayrneri de Nar-
bonne. In a study of the French epic, a legend preserved abroad
is of great value. It is even probable that, at a given date, of two
variations of a legend, one of which is preserved in France and the
other abroad, the latter will prove the more primitive.8 The account
given by Andrea da Barberino, therefore, merits at least a fair exam-
ination.

The parts of the Nerbonesi which concern Aliscans will now be
passed rapidly in review. These parts are not consecutive, but
sometimes widely separated. One's first feeling is that Aliscans
occupies a very small place in the compilation,4 and we at once
observe that in the Nerbonesi the main events are in a different
order from that in the poem.

The opening scenes of Aliscans are found in vol. II, pp. 150-
75. The main points of difference, aside from the greater clear-
ness in the geography, are these : (i) the leader of the Saracens

1 Le Storie Nerbonesi, ed. Isola (in the Collezione di opere inedite a rare),
Bologna, vol. I, 1877, vol. II, 1887.

2 With regard to Andrea, see Rajna, Ricerche intorno ai Reali di Francia,
Bologna, 1872, pp. 313, 314 ; Gautier, Epopees, IV, 470, 473, and cf. Rolin, Aliscans,
pp. Ixv, Ixvi ; the preface to La Seconda Spagna e VAcqiiisto di Ponente, by A. Ceruti,
Bologna, 1871 ; La Ltgende de Pepin le Bref, by G. Paris, in the Melanges Julien
Havet, pp. 603-32 ; Anse'is de Carthage et la Seconda Spagna, by the same scholar,
published in the Rassegna Bibliografica delta letteratura italiana, anno I, n. 6 ;
and D'Ancona e Bacci, Manuale della letteratura italiana, I, 611.

8 For illustrations of this, see Anse'is de Carthage, already cited, p. 8 ; Rolin,
Aliscans, p. Ixvi ; Rajna, Ricerche, p. 49, also p. 139; cf. Nerbonesi, I, 437, Wille-
halm, III, 17-25; Nerbonesi, II, 513, Willehalm, 328, 9, and 364, 4.

4 Such is the complaint of Gautier, Epopees, IV, 473 : " Le compilateur italien
ne s'est pas doute un seul instant de 1'importance ^Aliscans"

132 Raymond Weeks.

is Tibaut ; (2) Vivien's army is defeated and he himself is slain
before the arrival of Guillaume ; (3) Bertrant is not present ; (4)
Guillaume kills Baudu ; (5) there is no Porter's scene ; (6) Guil-
laume finds at Orange on his return from the fight, a garrison of
1200 men. From this point on the story becomes totally different
from that of Aliscans.

The remainder of Aliscans, excepting in the main only such parts
as are due to the introduction of Renouart,1 is found in vol. I of
the Nerbonesi, pp. 416-61, 497-518. This account, which stands
out in the Italian compilation in a manner to indicate that its origi-
nal constituted a separate poem, perhaps with the title Siege d' Orange
or Prise d' Orange, is briefly as follows : Guillaume, having taken
Orange2 and married Guiborc, finds himself besieged by Tibaut, who
has sworn vengeance. The siege lasts for seven years, with all the
events usual in such circumstances. The defenders finally become
so reduced in numbers that they post the armor of the dead on the
walls to give the appearance of a good garrison. Guillaume keeps
expecting aid from France, but none comes. One day Bertrant, who
is at Orange, thinking himself alone, bursts out into imprecations
against Louis and the Nerbonesi, who desert Guillaume in his sore
need. Guiborc overhears Bertrant, and coming forward, urges him
to go for aid. She reminds him of the strong horse Serpentin,
which he himself took from the Saracen Arpin, and which he had
supposed dead from starvation. She has taken care of this horse,
among whose remarkable qualities is that of being able to live prin-
cipally on earth.8 This animal has a mouth not unlike that of a ser-
pent, and a long tail without bristly hairs (sanza setole) but hairy like
a dog's. Guillaume gives his consent to Bertrant's going. At the
moment of departure, Guiborc addresses to Bertrant words like
those which she addresses to Guillaume in the beautiful passage

1 The story of Renouart is found in vol. II, pp. 481-528.

2 The story of the taking of Orange is very different from that of the present
poem, Prise d 'Orange ; see Nerbonesi, I, 383-415.

8 The supernatural is very rare in Andrea ; he can hardly, therefore, have
invented this. We may, perhaps, see here a trace of the traditionally miraculous
powers of Guiborc ; cf. Aliscans, 4282.

The Messenger in Aliscans. 133

beginning, "Or t'en iras en France 1'alose'e" (Aliseans, 1970-80),
and he answers with the same vow that Guillaume makes in 1988-
2003.

Bertrant succeeds in passing the enemy's lines. Instead of pro-
ceeding directly to Paris, he hastens to his father and his uncles,
the brothers of Guillaume, urging them to raise troops and to go to
Paris to support his request for aid. There come to Paris with this
intention, Bernart, Beuve, Ernaut, Guibert, and Garin. Bertrant's
request is at first refused by Louis. Thanks to the influence of his
uncles and the prayers of Blanchefleur, the king begins to waver,
but for that day does not yield. That night, however, the queen by
her tears leads him to promise aid.1 The next morning a council is
held and most of the lords seem in favor of relieving Orange. One
noble who speaks against this becomes involved in a quarrel with
Bertrant. Both draw their swords, but Bertrant is the quicker, and
slays his opponent. He then forces his way to the door, hastens to
his lodgings, and leaves Paris at once, going to Spain in order to
warn the remaining brother, Aimer.

The French army is soon ready. Louis accompanies it. At
Pietrafitta a junction is made with the troops which the Nerbonesi
have sent. Bertrant, Ai'mer, and Vivien arrive from Spain. Aimer
is made captain. The army marches into the plain below Orange
and confronts the immense host of the Saracens. The battle lasts
two days. Early in the morning of the second day, Bertrant and
Vivien with a convoy of provisions force their way to the gates of
the city. Guillaume is thus able to enter the battle, where he is
sorely needed. When night comes it is found that the Christians
have the worst of it. Guibert and Garin are dead, Aimer is fatally
wounded, Vivien has received a severe wound at the hands of Tibaut.
Luckily for the Christians, Tibaut has himself been dangerously
wounded by Vivien, and the next morning he asks for a truce of
several days. Before the expiration of the truce Tibaut abandons
the siege because of his wound, and takes his departure.

That the long siege here described is the same as the short siege
in the present Aliscans cannot be doubted in view of the great resem-

1 Perhaps a trace of this remains in 1. 3048.

134 Raymond Weeks.

blance of the tw,o accounts, not only in general, but in a number of
highly significant details.1

The following differences will be noted between the events in the
Nerbonesi and the corresponding ones in Aliscans : (i) the siege is
already of long duration when the messenger starts, while in the
poem it has just begun and lasts, all told, but a few months; (2) the
messenger is Bertrant, not Guillaume ; (3) all six brothers appear ;
(4) there is no Renouart ; (5) Vivien plays an important role.

A few moments' thought shows that in the light of the events as
narrated in the Nerbonesi, most of the difficulties mentioned at the
beginning of this article vanish. The difficulty of Guillaume's leav-
ing his wife defenceless disappears ; also that of the armor. The
difficulty of the horse is removed by the uncanny beast which Ber-
trant rides. As to the episode of Orleans, it is easy to explain this
as a trace of Bertrant's visits to the brothers of Guillaume to induce

1 i. The principal heroes who have to do with the Siege of Orange in Aliscans,
or who appear later in the battle in a manner to indicate no connection with
Renouart, are nearly all found in the chapters of the Nerbonesi which describe the
long siege and the succeeding battle. Observe further that (a) the combatants
named in the opening scenes of Aliscans are for the most part found in those
chapters of the Nerbonesi which describe the defeat ; and (i>) the important heroes
in Aliscans who have to do with Renouart appear in a group in those chapters
which treat of him. When it is seen that in the Italian compilation there are
sometimes three or four hundred pages between the parts corresponding to the
above-mentioned three divisions of Aliscans, one is driven to admit the force of
this argument from names. — 2. In both versions Guiborc suggests to the mes-
senger that he may forget those whom he has left behind him, and in both she
is answered with a vow couched in substantially identical terms. — 3. The mes-
senger hi the Nerbonesi goes first to arouse Guillaume's brothers, an incident of
which a trace is still seen in Aliscans in the mysterious episode of Orleans. —
4. The coming together of the brothers at Paris is exactly the same in the two
accounts, save for Garin, for whose absence in Aliscans an explanation will be
offered later. — 5. The strange separation of the brothers on their way to Orange
(11. 3944-51), and their meeting afterwards at Orange are almost exactly reproduced
in the Italian. — 6. The presence of Aimer at Orange, whose coming surprises us
in view of line 2601, is perfectly accounted for in the Nerbonesi. — Other simi-
larities could be adduced, but these are surely sufficient to establish the identity
of these two sieges. It is then inadmissible to contend that the siege in the
Renouart part of the Nerbonesi (II, 490) is identical with that in Aliscans.

The Messenger in Aliscans. 135

them to come to Paris.1 The next difficulty — that the messenger
is not recognized — is much less great in connection with Bertrant,
who can hardly have been so well known at court as his uncle.2
With regard to the humility of the messenger, so inexplicable in
Guillaume, we can understand it better in Bertrant, especially in
view of the final warning of his uncle (" nou ti turbare contro a lui,
ne contro a' baroni," p. 443). The king's bursting into a passion at
the announcement of the messenger's name — thus indicating that
he already knew the cause of his coming — is intelligible in view of
the long duration of the siege : if the siege had lasted nearly seven
years every one must have known of it. Again, Guillaume's reentry
into Orange gives no further trouble : if he never left Orange we
may expect that the poet would have some difficulty in getting him
back. Finally, the six brothers all appear, and this indicates that
the lines (such as 5972, 6252) in the poem which mention all six
brothers where there are apparently only five, repose on a sound
tradition.

In view of all this it becomes necessary to discuss at some length
the five main differences just noted (p. 134, above) between the
account in the Aliscans and that in the Nerbonesi, in order to deter-
mine, if possible, whether the Nerbonesi has in any or all of these
particulars preserved an earlier tradition than that found in the poem.

I. Was the Siege of Orange short (as in Aliscans) or long (as in
the Nerbonesi} ?

In the first place, was there ever any long siege of Orange known
to tradition ? There certainly was some tradition of this kind. In
the Vita Guilelmi? we read of Guillaume and of Orange : " ipsam
facile ac brevi caesis atque fugatis eripit invasoribus, licet postea et
in ea et pro ea multos et longos ab hostibus labores pertulerit."
There is also a well-known passage in the Chanson de la Croisade
contre les Albigeois, 4106, 4107 : " Senhors, remembre vos Guilhelmet
al cort nes, Co al seti d'Aurenca suffri tans desturbiers." Again,

1 Cf. also Nerbonesi, II, 447 : " e trovati certi paesani fu assalito, ma egli," etc.

2 According to Nerbonesi, I, 449, Bertrant, the messenger, is unrecognized by his
uncle Guibert. On p. 451, we see that his own father did not recognize him, nor
did his mother until after several moments.

8 Acta Sanctorum, May, VI, p. 812.

136 Raymond Weeks.

the siege is treated at much greater length in the Willehalm and the
prose versions than in the Aliscans, — a fact which suggests that it
originally had at least a greater relative importance. The passage
in the Charroi de JVimes, where Guillaume receives as his fief lands
still in possession of the Saracens, on the condition that Louis shall
not be called on for help, " Fors seulement un secors en vii anz "
(v. 591), is valuable. There must have been a tradition that our
hero resisted the Saracens unaided by Louis for seven years (cf.
Willehalm^ 298, n). The lines 3118-20 of Aliscans are probably a
reference to this same promise by Louis. The testimony of the Ner-
bonesi on this point is especially interesting. The compiler appar-
ently knows nothing of any time limit set by the king. We learn
from vol. I, p. 370, that Louis promised Guillaume two thousand
men to conquer Nimes and Orange, and that he warned him not to
expect further aid except to the amount of three thousand men.
Guillaume, however, besieged in Orange, holds out for nearly seven
years ; then, as the seven years are nearly at an end, he sends Ber-
trant for aid.1

The tradition of a long siege of Orange may, then, be regarded as
well established. If, now, the short siege injttoe Aliscans is derived
from this long siege by some change or confusion in the story, we
should expect the poem to give evidence of the fact. Such^vidence
is not wanting.

1. The siege as now described is impossible. Guiborc says in
the Porter's scene : "Toute sui seule, n'ai ot moi home n^s" (1623).
Orange, then, has only the women and the few prisoners (see above,
p. 127) whom Guillaume recaptured in the Porter's scene to offer
defence for four months against the large and determined army of
the besiegers. This is inconceivable. There must have been more
defenders or the messenger would not have left Guiborc.

2. There were perhaps more men in Orange than this passage
indicates. At the moment of Guillaume's entry we read,

Atant es vous les gardes aprestez,
Qui ont la porte et les huis defermez.8

1 Close of chap, xx, p. 436, chaps, xxi (Come fu la fame in, etc.), and xxii.
8 In MS. L, at least; see Rolin's Varianten, 1. 1762.

The Messenger in Aliscans. 137

In line 2028 we read,

Toute sa gens est aveuc lui amide,

and in lines 2039-41,

Et sa maisnie a a Dieu commande*e,
De Guiborc proie k'ele soit bien garde"e,
Et la cite" vers Sarrasins tense'e.

3. The matter of the recaptured prisoners contains probable evi-
dence of a long siege. Guillaume, just before entering Orange,
releases a band of prisoners whom a foraging party of Saracens had
captured. Guillaume says of these prisoners : " Tant par sont foible
n'ont- force ne vertu " (2237). MS. m has maigre. Why should
these men who have just been taken prisoners be so weak or emaci-
ated as to be of little value for defence ? It is more than probable
that these words originally applied to the condition of defenders
reduced by long famine. The number of these prisoners ranges in
the MSS. from 15 to 200. In the Nerbonesi (I, 437) there remained
only 300 men at the time when the messenger set out. Of these it
is said : " parevano piu morti che vivi, tanto erano magri." It
seems likely that to the words used by Guillaume is due the creation
of the episode of the released captives.1

4. Guillaume in the sale vautie uses words which would apply
admirably to Orange if already besieged for a long time, but which
cannot well apply to the circumstances of the siege in Aliscans. He
says to his sister,

Ne vos ramenbre de noif ne de gele*e,
Des grans batailles et de la consieure"e
Ke nos souffrons en estrange contre'e,
Dedens Orenge, vers la gent desiae'e.

(2790-93.)

5. Line 2682, " Dedens Orenge va vitaille faillant," strikes one as
singular. If there are so few people in Orange newly besieged, and

1 The mention made by certain MSS. of women who were also released lends
additional support to the above argument. Guillaume thus gives a more general
description of all who remain in Orange.

138 Raymond Weeks.

if, in the Porter's scene, a large convoy of provisions was captured,
how can it be as stated in this line ?

6. In the scene of the olivier (2297 ff.), Guillaume, being asked his
name and business, says that he is Guillaume, and that he comes
from Orange. He adds that he is poor and woebegone. The king,
on being told his name, bursts into a passion, but betrays no curiosity
as to the causes which have brought him thither in such a plight. This
seems to indicate that he is well acquainted with the general situation
at Orange and assumes that Guillaume has come to ask for aid (cf.
particularly line 2397), while as we have seen (p. 129) no knowl-
edge on his part of a recent disaster in the field before or near
Orange is to be assumed. If we suppose Guillaume to have ridden,
as in Aliseans, almost directly from the field of slaughter to Mont
Laon he would be the first to bring news of his misfortune. If, how-
ever, as in the Nerbonesi, the messenger comes from Orange, which
all France knew to be undergoing siege, everything is plain.

7. Our messenger complains, in lines 2876-79 of Jonckbloet's
edition, that he is not saluted by his mother, whom he has not seen
for seven years.1 This, of course, does not prove that he had been
besieged all this time, yet, taken with points already cited, it is worthy
of mention.

8. Guillaume's remark at the court that "Dusqe a vii ans est li
sieges jures " by King Desrame (2434), may well be a reminiscence
of the long siege.

9. We learn in lines 3267, 3300 (cf. also Rolin, Varianten, 7554,
p. 123), that Renouart has been in Louis's possession more than seven
years. According to the usual legend, Renouart left the Orient after
his father Desrame had departed to lay siege to Orange. If, then,
seven years have elapsed since Ren Quart's arrival in France, we seem
to have here an indication of the length of the siege. The story of
Renouart, however, was originally independent of Aliseans, as most
scholars agree. Shall we suppose, then, that the siege in the Renouart
lasted seven years ? Conventional as is this number, it is probable
that the siege was not of this length. According to the Nerbonesi
(II, 490), it lasted about a year. We must suppose, therefore, that

1So all the MSS. save a and d (cf. Rolin's Varianten, 2631); a has vi, d, v.

The Messenger in Aliscans. 139

the number of years in the Renouart was changed to seven when that
poem was amalgamated with the hypothetical Siege d' Orange. But
another question arises. If Aliscans is derived from three principal
sources, — the Siege a" Orange, the Renouart, and the primitive poem
on the defeat of Aliscans, — how does it happen that Renouart's
original stay of one year (or whatever it was) at Louis's court was
changed to seven years ? The explanation may be that the Siege and
the Renouart were first amalgamated, that the Siege was of sufficiently
greater importance to dictate the chronology of the resultant poem,
and that later this poem was fused with the primitive one on the
defeat of Aliscans.

From all these considerations we may feel sure that the siege
described in the Aliscans was originally much longer than it is in
the present text of the poem.

II. Who was originally the messenger, Guillaume or Bertrant?

The following points, several of which have already been touched
upon, may be mentioned :

1. In proportion as it may have been proved by the preceding
arguments that the siege of Aliscans is really the long siege of the
Nerbonesi, the authority of the latter is strengthened and the proba-
bility that Bertrant, not Guillaume, was the original messenger is
increased.

2. If the tripartite origin of the present Aliscans be admitted, it
becomes probable that Bertrant was with Guillaume in Orange, for
in the early poems these two are constantly together.1

3. We can understand how cyclic centralization may, at the time
of the composition of our present Aliscans, have robbed Bertrant, a
lesser hero, to the profit of the head of the geste, but the inverse
process would be unusual between two primitive heroes.

4. The armor of the messenger is worthy of further comment. In
the poem Guillaume goes away wearing the armor of Aerofle, which, as
we have seen, is distinctive. None the less, on his return to Orange,

1 Cf. the opinion of Demaison, Aymeri de Narbonnc, I, p. cxxxi ; also Suchier,
Ueber die Quelle Ulrichs von dem Tiirlin, Paderborn, 1873, P- 27> P^ltrinage de
Charlemagne, 11. 507, 565, etc.; Becker, Die altfranzosische Wilhelmsage, pp. 51-57.
and Romania, XXV, 494, 495.

140 Raymond Weeks.

he is so little recognized that Guiborc compels him to take off his
helmet before she will open the gate (4062-78). In the Nerbonesi?
similarly, Bertrant is compelled to uncover his face, but here the ex-
planation is easier : on his way for aid, Bertrant had slain a Saracen,
whose armor so pleased him that he put it on,2 hence he was not
recognized on his arrival at the gates of Orange. The device
on this armor was a red lion on a field of gold. The line in the
description of the unknown messenger, " Et s'en y a de rouge com
carbon " (2340), may refer to this. In the armor of Aerofle nothing
of the kind is mentioned. There is possibly here an explanation of
the inconsistency whereby in Aliscans the people of Orleans remark
nothing of the Saracen in the messenger. It is clear from the
Italian account that Bertrant acquired this armor several days after
leaving Orange. There would have been time, then, for the episode
of Orleans between his departure and the acquiring of the armor.
Again, in the description of the armor at Mont Laon, while there are
certain things evidently of Saracen workmanship, there is nothing
which distinctly recalls the armor of Aerofle. Another point of
some importance in this connection is the sword Joieuse? For
Guillaume to be without this sword is almost unheard of. Why
should he set off on this perilous enterprise without it? To be sure,
he disguises himself, but certainly the sword would not betray him.
What finer scene could be imagined for Joieuse than that where
Guillaume stands with his sword hidden under his mantle (2568,
2737 ff.) ? Are we to suppose that he did not take his precious
sword with him ? We shall learn something further of Joieuse in our
discussion of the messenger's return and the subsequent battle
(see p. 144, below).

5. The argument of the horses already mentioned is a strong
one in Bertrant's favor. The messenger's horse formerly occupied
more attention than is now given it. The prose version of Aliscans *

1 1, 508. 2 See Nerbonesi, I, 449; also II, 395.

'Lines 2116, 2117 being the only ones in the messenger part where Joieuse is
mentioned, and recalling 1339 (Jonckbloet), it seems probable that the correct read-
ing (without mention of Joieuse), is found in other MSS. See Rolin's Varianten.

* Bibl. Nat. (1497, fol. 382 vo.). This citation is due to the kindness of Mr-
Densusianu.

The Messenger in Aliscans. 141

thus describes the horse : " C'est grant, mesgre, long, estroit, devant
et derriere, hault a la main, et leger par samblant, car il a menue
teste, assez longuete, oreilles droites, crouppe aigue et trenchant,
menu couart, et jambes longues, et samble myeulx que il ait mestier
de repaistre que de dormir." This animal, especially in view of the
last dozen words, seems rather the Serpentin of Bertrant than the
Folatise of Guillaume.1 The satanic character of Bertrant's horse
is, perhaps, still indicated in line 2294: "Deable 1'ont si haut fait
encroier (cf. Deable I'ont isi haut enerucie, Rolin, 2175).

6. The messenger's vow (11. 1988-2003), in which food and
drink have such a part, would be more forcible if made by one half-
famished, as is the messenger in the Nerboncsi?

7. Perhaps the laisse beginning 1946 was originally addressed by
Guillaume to Bertrant :

Sire Guillames, dist Guibors en plorant,
Car i aids, par le vostre commant,
Je remanrai en Orenge le grant
Aveuc les dames, etc.

MS. d has nostre for vostre, and M has A nos les dames. If we sup-
pose Guillaume to be addressing Bertrant, either reading would be
perfectly satisfactory. Similarly, the line, " Car i ales par le vostre
[or nostre] commant " would fit admirably the scene as described in
the Nerbonesi. Under the present setting, nostre is almost impos-
sible, and with vostre the line is the merest commonplace. Further-
more, line 1958, " Par Saint Denis que je trai a garant," seems to
indicate clearly Guillaume, whose patron is St. Denis. Scarcely any
other saint is ever appealed to by him. See Couronnement de Louis,
ed. Jonckbloet, 1247, 1631, 1746, 1930, 2599 ; Charroi, 741, 1293,
" Par Saint Denis qui est mes avoez" ; Aliscans, ed. Jonckbloet, 1569.

8. In line 2267, Ernaut, in speaking to the messenger, says mes
pere; if the messenger were his brother we should look for "nostre

1 For the description of Serpentin, see Nerbonesi, I, 425.

2 Though it may seem to us more natural for the words of Guiborc and the
messenger's reply to be a conversation between husband and wife, yet there is
nothing really surprising in such an expression of sentiment on the part of Gui-
borc and her nephew in a mediaeval writer. Cf., to be sure, Prise d'Or., 285 ff.

142 Raymond Weeks

(or nos) pere." Similarly, in Mm, the messenger says to Ernaut
(1. 2254), "la vostre (instead of nostre) mere." These passages are
of little import alone, but taken with others, such as 3064, where
Ernaut says to the messenger, " Jo et mi frere ensamble o toi iron,"
they may be traces of a text in which Guillaume was not the mes-
senger. The host, Guimart, speaking to the messenger (2549), says
t'ostre seror, meaning Blanchefleur. MS. d has vostre nesien (cf. necien
in Godefroy).1

9. The arguments drawn from the scene of the olivier are par-
ticularly strong, but most of them have already been mentioned (see
pp. 128, 129, also no. 1 1, p. 143). An additional point occurs in lines
2435, 2436 : " Dame Guibors, ki tant vos a antic's, Par moi vos mande
ke vos le secore's." It is very possible that Guillaumes, and not
Guibors, originally stood in this line. As it is, the picture of Guil-
laume hiding behind the authority of Guiborc is painful rather
than pathetic. This theory is supported by the reading of C, which
adds after the above lines : " U se cou non, ia mais ne le veres."
We may perhaps infer from this line (cf. also the words of Louis,
" Je ne puis mie a ceste fois aler," 3128) that the person in danger
has been aided several times before, in what predicaments is not
stated. Now we know that Guillaume has several times come for
aid,2 but we know of no occasion when aid was asked for Guiborc.

10. Evidence of the messenger's not being Guillaume is seen in
the fact that nowhere does he swear by St. Denis. We have already
seen how in all the primitive poems of the cycle Guillaume swears
by this saint. Surely, no circumstances would give him a better
opportunity than the events at Orleans and at Mont Laon. It is not
until line 3437 (Jonckbloet, — Guessard. 3196) that we find the mes-
senger employing this oath.3 In this passage, however, it is really
Guillaume that speaks, for these lines come from the Renouart
beyond doubt, and in this story Guillaume was the messenger.4

1 Fol. 232. Similarly for ton serouge (1913) m has ton seignor.

2 See 1932, 2397, 2696-99. Cf. Nerbonesi, I, 404 ff.

8 Even here not all the MSS. have this oath ; see Guessard.

4 The point where the Renouart begins is probably with line 3374 or 3386 in
Jonckbloet, the latter point being that adopted by Rolin (cf. p. 91 of text, n. 4;
p. 96, 1. 2880 = Guessard, 3146. Cf. also Nerbonesi, II, 492 ff.).

The .Messenger in Aliscans. 143

n. Line 2345, "Haul a le nes par deseur le gernon," occurring
in the description of the messenger given to Louis in the scene of the
olivier, is surprising. If this describes the nose of Guillaume au cort
nes, then the adjective must apply to the boce mentioned elsewhere
(see, for example, Charroi de Nimes, 146 ; Prise d'Orenge, 338), and
Guillaume ought to have been recognized at once. Cf. the passage
(Charroi de Nimes, 1192 ff.) in which the Saracen king, who has
never seen Guillaume before, recognizes him by this feature, though
he is disguised as an English merchant. If, on the other hand,
haut refers to an ordinary Roman nose, the messenger cannot be
Guillaume.

In the reentry of the messenger at Orange, and in the subsequent
battle, there are the following further points, which indicate that
the account of the Nerbonesi is correct and that Bertrant was the
messenger :

(i) The extreme improbability of the manner of Guillaume's
entrance into Orange when he returns from the court has already
been cited (p. 135) as evidence that he had never quitted the city.
The Endementiers scene (including approximately lines 4125-4251)
stands out in language, substance, and form from the surrounding
passages, and is clearly a remnant of a very ancient poem.1 The
original setting of the scene was probably this : Guillaume and Gui-
borc, who have been besieged for a long while, see the arrival of the
armies from France. Guillaume recognizes the standards8 and tries
to encourage Guiborc. In line 4139, C, we read, "Gentius contese,
dist li quens ounores, Soies ioians si ne vous dementes," which fits
this setting far better than the present one. Line 4226 is followed
in C by two lines of the greatest interest, as has been remarked by
Rolin : De Vencombrier ne del cruel trespas Qu il souferont aim que
viegne li mars. That this mortel encombrier cannot be the jaunty battle

1 Cf. Rolin, p. 117, n. 7.

2 It is barely possible that originally Guillaume did not recognize the standards,
but thought a new Saracen army had come. I once asked a scholar, than whom
few are greater masters, to read the laisse beginning with line 4209. This scholar,
not having the context in mind, said, " The lines are clear. Those who are
besieged mistake the newly arrived army, thinking it a new detachment of the
enemy, when in reality it has come to relieve the siege."

144 Raymond Weeks.

decided by Renouart, all will agree, for what Christian hero of note
dies in that battle ? But no words would better describe the battle,
which, according to the Nerbonesi, terminated the seven years' siege.
In that battle perish two of Guillaume's brothers, a third dies later
of his wounds, and Vivien receives an all but fatal wound in the
breast.

(2) If, in an earlier form of the poem, Guillaume was not the mes-
senger, at what point in that poem, if any, did he leave Orange to
join in the battle ? The answer is : at the time corresponding to
that when, in the present Aliscans, the prisoners are released by
Renouart. (This episode of the release was, of course, originally
independent of the poem on the long siege.) In the earlier form,
Guillaume probably entered the battle when a detachment of Chris-
tians forced its way to the gates of Orange.1 There were also,
doubtless, certain prisoners, whose release in the present poem
(after the Renouart was combined with it) was achieved by
Renouart. It is, therefore, in lines 5337-5690 that evidence of
Guillaume's entrance into the battle may be sought, and if there
has been in the messenger a replacing of Bertrant by Guillaume, we
may here look for some indications that the released prisoner called
Bertrant is really Guillaume. In fact, line 5639, which is lacking in
a, although necessary to the sense, reads in L: "Li quens Guil-
laumes leit le cheval aler." The other MSS. have Bertram. The
succeeding line reads: "Tant com il pot le ceval randoner," which
may allude to the physical weakness of the rider. See Nerbonesi, I,
509, for the weakness of Guillaume when he mounts and rides into
the battle. As in 5642 ff. Bertrant kills his first Saracen after
his release, so Guillaume on page 509 just cited, where the Sara-
cen's name is Boeter, a name which would rhyme in the laisse in
question.

(3) An indication (such as it is) that Guillaume does not leave
Orange until the freeing of the prisoners, is this, that there is no
mention of Joieuse in connection with the supposed Guillaume until
after the freeing of the prisoners. See 5959, the first mention of
Joieuse in the battle.

1 Cf. Nerbonesi, I, 506-8 (see p. 133, above).

The Messenger in Aliscans. 145

(4) There are passages where the person called Guillaume is men-
tioned in a manner to indicate that he was not a son of Aymeri :

Et d'autre part contreval li Archans
Se recombat Guillaumes li vaillans,
Et Aymeris, et toz ses vi enfanz

(6250-52). The substitution of Bertrantlm Guillaume would give
these lines a much more natural air.

III. How many sons of Aymeri are present in Aliscans ? It is
probable that five brothers of Guillaume are present at Mont Laon.
We learn in lines 2596-2601 that Ernaut, Beuve, Bernart, and
Guibert are present : "Mais n'i ert pas Aimers li caitis." From the
fact that the absence of Aimer is carefully explained (En Espaigne
est, etc., 2602, 2603), while no word is said of Garin, we must assume
either that Garin is not supposed to be a son of Aymeri, or that he
is present. The latter is probably the case.

On the battlefield are present five brothers; for Aimer, whom we
supposed in Spain, appears, to our surprise.1 These five are men-
tioned by name in lines 5215-19. From line 5972 and the preceding
lines we might suppose there were six brothers, but these lines may
perhaps be interpreted to mean five if we choose to say that Guillaume
is included. Lines 6250-52 (quoted above under 4), indicate that
there were six without counting Guillaume.2 MS. C has " vii," which
means that all the sons of Aymeri took part in the battle. Lines
6646, 6647 indicate five sons, not counting Guillaume. The excel-
lent MS. m is more consistent, — six sons, not counting Guillaume,
are always mentioned 3 where numbers are given.

It is clear, then, that according to some MSS. there are present
all the brothers of Guillaume, as in the Nerbonesi. The fact that
some MSS. attempt to reduce the number to five (without in general
being able to avoid contradiction) may be taken to mean that it was
thought necessary for some reason to reduce the number by one.

1 Another indication that the siege and victory in Alicans are those mentioned
in the Nerbonesi, is seen in the explanation in the latter of this unexpected appear-
ance of Aimer (I, 479-99).

2 MS. d has "v."

8 See Rolin, Varianten, 558, 1915, 6646 (p. 106, 1. 7) ; see also p. 109, 1. 14.

146 Raymond Weeks.

Why? No good reason is apparent, unless that the replacing of
Bertrant the messenger by Guillaume rendered this change desirable.
This change would explain the confusion introduced into an enumera-
tion which in m and in the Nerbonesi is most simple. As a matter of
fact, no one can doubt that the appearance of the old Aymeri with
so many of his sons indicates that originally they all came, as in the
Mart Aymeri. Just as in line 5222 : "Or fu li quens ensamble od
ses v fis " (which was perhaps preceded somewhere in the poem by
a similar line with " iv "), so there was probably a subsequent line with
" vi," then, when Guillaume was liberated, a line with " vii." Such a
series of related passages is not infrequent in the ancient epic.1

IV. In that portion of the Nerbonesi corresponding, as is here
maintained, with the siege and victory in Aliseans, Renouart does not
appear. Is his appearance in the poem a later introduction ? Inas-
much as it is now generally admitted that Renouart played no role in
the primitive poem, we may dismiss this question. It should be
observed, however, that this means accrediting with accuracy the
portion of the Nerbonesi involved.

V. Did Vivien take part in the battle which closes Aliseans ? Inas-
much as Vivien dies in the opening scenes of the poem, this question
may seem absurd. None the less, the version of the Nerbonesi is
beyond doubt right : Vivien fought in the battle which relieved
Orange ; he later won a realm for himself in Spain, et i porta coroune
(last line of Aliseans), and was killed some years later in the terrible
rout of Aliseans. A full discussion of this question would require a
special article. All that can be done here is to show that the role
played primitively by Vivien is in the present Aliseans ascribed in
the main to Renouart. This can be most simply done by taking a
single Saracen, Haucebier, and pointing out his relation to these two
heroes in the Aliseans and in the Nerbonesi respectively.

Haucebier is in the Nerbonesi called Maltribal (Maltribol). He
first appears at the siege of Vivien's stronghold in Portugal.2 He and
Vivien have several encounters in battle, and become bitter enemies.8

1 Something similar is seen in lines 2593, 4148, 4176, 4205.

2 Nerbonesi, I, 471.

8 Nerbonesi, I, 473-75, 480-87, 489-96 ; II, 159.

The Messenger in Alls cans. 147

Vivien, being succored, succeeds in escaping, and betakes himself,
in company with Aimer and Bertrant, to aid in relieving Orange.
Maltribal follows him immediately, and both arrive in time to engage
in the battle.1 Vivien, after the defeat of the Saracens and his own
recovery from a severe wound in the breast, goes to conquer a realm
for himself. He becomes king of Ragona and Aliscante. Tibaut
organizes an expedition against him, and is assisted by Maltribal.
There ensues a battle in which Vivien is killed 2 and Guillaume
terribly defeated ; this corresponds to the rout of Aliscans. As in
the Willehalm, Vivien and Noupatris kill each other in battle, so
here Vivien and Maltribal.

Of the above-mentioned three wars in which Vivien and Maltribal
met, Aliscans preserves records of two, the second and the third.3
The third meeting is that in the opening lines, the second is in the
battle at the close of the poem. But how does it come about that in
this latter meeting Vivien is replaced by Renouart? This substitu-
tion was necessitated by the compiler's uniting in reversed chrono-
logical order two separate poems. When these poems were united,
there were difficulties with heroes who, being common to both poems,
were killed in the chronologically later one. Heroes who fought
through the first battle (that for the relief of Orange) and were killed
in the second (the rout of Aliscans) are, to mention the most impor-
tant, Vivien, Haucebier, Baudu, and Aquin.* In the case of Hauce-
bier, for instance, who in reality was slain in the opening scenes of
Aliscans, how could he be allowed to disappear when he had an
important role to play in the poem to which these opening scenes
were to be prefixed ? The compiler was obliged to reverse matters.
He had to make one poem look forward to another, whose events,
far from following those of the first, really preceded them. Evidence

1 Nerbonesi, I, 498-99, 502 (variant i), 510; Aliscans, 6670, 6671.

2 Nerbonesi, II, 159.

8 Haucebier says in 11. 372, 373, speaking of Vivien : " Se n'en avoie reproce de
Mahon, Ja 1'averoie tue a .i. baston," which is a reference to a previous meeting
with Vivien in the " Silge." This other meeting is found in 11. 6689-90, 6704-5,
where Haucebier refuses to fight with Renouart (i.e. Vivien), because the latter
is on foot and poorly armed.

4 See Rolin, p. Ixi.

148 Raymond Weeks.

of the inevitable awkwardness with which this was done is still to be
seen on a careful comparison of the opening part with the subsequent
events of Aliscans. Critics have seen in the latter nothing but the
preparation and execution of vengeance for Vivien. In reality noth-
ing of the kind is the case. Vivien disappears brusquely from the
scene. His whole episode could be omitted, and Aliscans, essen-
tially, would remain as now. For the purpose and motive of the
main part of the poem is to take Orange and wreak vengeance on
Guillaume and Guiborc : Guiborc is another Helen, Orange another
Troy. The line spoken by Guiborc, "Tante jovente est par moi
afine'e," 1 is as it were the "device " of Aliscans, as it was that of the
primitive poem on the siege of Orange.

Is there no internal evidence that Vivien fought in the battle
which concludes the poem ? The next to the last laisse in the poem
contains several bits of evidence. In the list of those who remain at
Orange with Guillaume occurs in Z and d the name Anseis (see
Rolin, Varianten, 8391). Inasmuch as we know nothing of any
Anseis in this poem, and inasmuch as Vivien's name is found in the
corresponding list in the Nerbonesi, we are led to ask whether Anseis
may not be the conjecture of some copyist surprised to see the name
Vivien.

In the poem we are told that Gaudins li bruns has not yet recov-
ered from his severe wound in the breast.2 Is it Gaudin (as in
Aliscans) or Vivien (as in the Nerbonesi) who was wounded in the
breast? The description of the mttee in which this wound was
received is in the laisse beginning with line 5868. The internal
evidence of this laisse shows that Renouart, not Gaudin, should fight
with Desrame'. The whole first half of the laisse clearly prepares
the way for a duel between these two. We expect nothing else, and
are surprised when Gaudin, whose name has not been mentioned for
three thousand lines, comes in to receive the blow of Desrame'. If
any Christian receives a wound in this duel it should certainly be
Renouart, or if Renouart is playing the role of Vivien, this latter, in
the original poem, should have received the wound (cf. 5932, 5933,

1 Aliscans, 1835.

2 Lines 8385-91. Cf. Nerbonesi, I, 514-16 ; II, 91.

The Messenger in Aliscans. 149

7364-67, 905). This is just what actually happens in the Nerbonesi^
Vivien attacks Tibaut, the leader of the Saracens, who has given
their death blow to two of his uncles and to his father.2 Vivien re-
ceives a severe wound in the breast, but at the same moment wounds
Tibaut in the arm, and this wound proves so serious that Tibaut
asks for a truce the next day.

Are there traces that such was formerly the state of things in
Aliscans ? Such evidence is easily found. From

Hui te fere* veincu et recreant.
Perdu avez Vivien le vaillant ;
Desoz eel arbre gist mort sor .i. estant,

etc. (5930-32), — words addressed to Guillaume by Desrame', who
has just given an apparently fatal wound to — Vivien? no, to
Gaudin, — we see that Vivien, whom we supposed dead months
before, appears to have been just killed. The difficulty vanishes if
we suppose that in the preceding single combat with Desrame'
Gaudin's name has been substituted for Vivien's.3

A final indication that Vivien's name belongs among those who
remained at Orange after the battle is seen in the variant, Li quens
Bertram, Renouars I'alosez* The term alose, although of general
import, is so extensively applied to Vivien as to constitute almost a
title; see Covenans Vivien, 106, 283, 291, 827, 1821, 1894; Aliscans,
684, 5306.

It may be said in general that Renouart's assuming the role of
Vivien explains several of the most surprising things in connection
with this burlesque character, such as the extraordinary respect and

1 Nerbonesi, I, 513, 514. If the elements that compose Aliscans are to be at all
correctly divined from the Nerbonesi, Gaudin would be an impossibility in this
passage.

2 A discussion as to the part of Tibaut and Desrame in the poem would take
too long, but would offer material evidence that the siege in Aliscans is the long
siege of the Nerbonesi. Desrame probably owes his introduction to the Renouart.

8 Cf. 11. 7364-67, where Guillaume finds the body of Vivien under a tree and
has it buried. The author seems to suppose it to have lain there ever since
II. 904, 905. No stress need be laid on the reading of M, Viviens ne chenuz
instead of jnenes ne chenuz, in 1. 5919.

4 See Rolin, Varianten, 8436 (11. 12 and 13 from the foot of the page).

150 Raymond Weeks.

affection with which he is treated, his incredible marriage with a
princess, and his becoming the wearer of a crown in Spain.

The certainty that the messenger was Bertrant, not Guillaume, is
assured in proportion as the general accuracy of the Nerbonesi, touch-
ing Aliscans, can be shown. The admission that the siege in the
poem is the long siege of the Italian story, that the first part of the
poem is different in origin from the remainder, that that remainder
is composed of two elements originally totally different, one of which
concerns Renouart, that Renouart plays the part belonging primi-
tively to Vivien, — the admission of these statements or of any part
of them renders it more or less certain that the Nerbonesi version
is right, and that in the central portion of the poem Guillaume has
usurped the role of Bertrant, the original messenger.

The argument briefly outlined in these pages would be strength-
ened or weakened by a study of the language of Aliscans. We
should thus see whether there are visible in the language of the
poem any indications of the discoveries supposed to be made in the
course of this article. This study, to make its results most valuable
for comparison, should be prepared by some one unacquainted with
the conclusions of the present argument. Such a study is said to

exist, and it will probably soon be published.

RAYMOND WEEKS.

STUDIES ON CHAUCER'S HOUSE OF FAME.

I. THE CONCLUSION OF THE POEM.

HOWEVER one may regard the efforts to prove a special imita-
tion of Dante's Divine Comedy in Chaucer's House of fame,
it is difficult to exclude an impression that the English poem repre-
sents in some sense, as the Divine Comedy does, a series of personal
experiences, or impressions of some human life.1 These are not to be
identified with any external events ; but the very fact that the poem
is an allegory demands a meaning unexpressed ; devoid of this and
regarded as a mere story, the poem becomes especially clumsy in
structure, as well as somewhat aimless and unattractive in treatment.
Chaucer was in an allegorical stage of artistic interest ; he was testing
his powers in the allegoric form. He had just accomplished a
masterpiece in allegory, the Parliament of Fowls; and, when the
House of Fame was dropped, he was to achieve another perma-
nent success in the allegorical Prologue to his Legend. We are
therefore somewhat more justified in seeking unexpressed meanings
in this poem than when he is engaged in telling a story merely for
itself, or in drawing character. Chaucer's other allegories have been
fully interpreted : shall not the House of Fame receive like attention ?
A suspicion that the meaning is the inner experience of a man,
with whom the poet chooses to identify himself, is produced, in the
broadest terms, by the fact that the first part of the poem is concerned
with a Temple of Venus, and the latter part with a Temple of Fame.
For, if the former be understood to represent the peculiar interests
of youth, — love and its affairs, — and the latter, the special interest
of mature life, — ambition and the winning of a name, — a striking
plan and purpose begin to emerge.2

lM A process of mental liberation." ten Brink (trans. Kennedy), II, 107.

2 See p. 174, n. i, for a similar arrangement in the Architrcnius. Early in the
poem the poet is in the Palace of Venus ; later, in the course of his wanderings,
he visits the Mount of Ambition. The allegory is evidently an account of a
man's inner experiences passing from stage to stage of life.

152 A. C. Garrett.

One might suggest as a working hypothesis, that the poem is alle-
gorical of the successive interests, intellectual or literary, of the person
who calls himself " I," with glimpses of his inner development in a
more intimate sense. We know that Chaucer had ahead of him a
stage of thought and art in which human life and character were his
absorbing interest as never before : to search for stories allowing the
embodiment of this interest must soon have become his pleasantest
study. In striking correspondence is the fact that the whole ten-
dency in the House of Fame is in that direction: — in his present
position he gets little news of people (11. 644-51) ; the eagle comes
to give him the chance to learn more of men (664, 673-98); his ob-
ject in looking through Fame's House is the same (1088, 1885-89) ;
and that object he appears to attain when he reaches the House of
Rumor (1910-15; 1997 ff.; 2121-30). The poem appears, then,
like a summing up of the poet's past experience made just before he
entered the new stage referred to.

The probability of this view may be somewhat increased by ob-
serving that from time to time the poet evidently draws close to con-
ditions of his own life, permitting thin spots to occur in the texture
of his allegory, where reality shows through. The well-known passage
on his custom-house labors (11. 622-660), acknowledged by all to be
autobiographical, is of course the best instance. LI. 1876-82 repre-
sent the literary attitude of a great poet as regards fame so exactly
that one feels convinced that Chaucer is speaking in propria persona ;
and if 11. 644-51 are autobiographical, 11. 1886-89 must necessarily
also represent the poet's actual wishes; furthermore, 11. 2011-18
represent the other side of his feelings, the extreme despondency
produced by the burden of his custom-house drudgery. These hints
are so woven into the texture of the story that they cannot be
regarded as mere parenthetical innuendoes regarding his actual
experience, as the possible allusions to his wife (11. 115-18, 560-66)
certainly are.

Following our clue in a more general way through the poem, —
without claiming, be it observed, more than a fair degree of proba-
bility for this interpretation of the allegory, — can we in the end
reach a solid theory as to what Qhaucer intended the conclusion of
the poem to be ?

Studies on Chaucer s House of Fame. 153

The Temple of Venus stands for the stage where love was the end
of existence (cf. 11. 616-19) ; in connection with this, Chaucer
chooses the story of the Aeneid to represent his intellectual interests,
with possibly already a desire to efface the effect of his Troylus by a
contrary instance of fidelity and desertion.1 Issuing from the temple
he stands in a plain of unusual desolation, where he fears malign
demonic influence : this must represent a period of especial unhap-
piness and of doubt approaching despair; it may well stand for the
dreary listlessness, the disillusion, of love outgrown. Without
appealing to any "lost love," one might well take it to represent a
man emerging from a life of idle gaiety to find himself facing realities
and linked to a wife who at best did not satisfy his ideals or sustain
his love. But as he looks toward heaven a new and greater interest
swims into his ken. The eagle is by many acknowledged to represent
philosophy; indeed Chaucer says as much in 11. 972-75, with special
allusion to Boethius. We know from other evidences that The Con-
solations had been one of Chaucer's intellectual liberators. It is
also noteworthy that the passage dealing with the eagle is full of
"natural philosophy," — the theory of sound-waves, the Aristotelian
views of tendencies or attractions of matter, —

Light thing up and downward charge, —

meteorology (if not demonology), with an approach to astronomy,
but a recession from it as "an harde thynge and yuel for to
knowe."

This period of philosophic interests having included if not occa-
sioned some of Chaucer's best literary work, the possibility or partial
realization of national fame is now presented to him. The arrival at
Fame's House by aid of the philosophic eagle strikingly corresponds
to this stage of progress.

1 Rambeau, Engl. Stud., Ill, 217, takes somewhat, the latter view: the Temple
and its pictures are the consolations of study, especially of reading Virgil, and
the barren waste outside is simply the dreariness of life apart from those consola-
tions. But why is this a Temple of Venus ? Rambeau's interpretation of the
barren waste, moreover, does not satisfy any chronological experience, which the
poem as a whole seems to demand ; and why should Chaucer so extremely fear
"fantome and illusioun " away from his books ?

154 A. C. Garrett.

This brings us to a special modification in his original, made by
Chaucer to bring it into correspondence with his allegorical intention.
The description of Fame's House in Ovid is far closer to Chaucer's
House of Rumor than to his House of Fame ; Ovid's House is,
indeed, the residence of Fame, but it is of maze-like structure, and
full of incessant murmurings, echoes, and reports; no convocation
of famous men is there. Chaucer has apparently split the concep-
tion into two for some special purpose. Evidently he wishes to
bring the allegory closer to the actual experience he aims to trace.
He represents himself as being allowed to enter, provisionally as
it were, into the convocation of great men ; the prospect does not
please him, the taste of fame does not promise to satisfy him, it is
manifestly not what he craves ; and so a further step is devised, and
he is brought into a place more like the real world condensed, a place
where amid infinite scandals, meannesses, and lies, there is the
incessant appetizing chance of hitting upon exactly what he longs
for. It is not easy to explain this splitting of Ovid's conception,
unless it was done for the requirements of the personal allegory.

This presence in the House of Rumor represents at its fullest
development the stage of interest in human beings, and the artist's
instinctive desire and search for stories embodying their lives and
characters.

We are now in a position to infer something of what the continua-
tion of the poem would have been. Its whole tendency has been in
the direction indicated ; the writer has been lifted up by a series of
"liberations" to an exalted vantage-ground of life, to a supreme
opportunity to learn "some good,"-— that is, to Chaucer's artist
mind, some stories or story that may embody his highest ideals.

As the poem breaks off we feel that its real object has not been
reached ; we are cheated of the fulfilment of this long pursuit ; and
yet the scene of intense and excited expectancy in the last few lines
leads us to think that the moment had just come when the cap-stone
was to be placed. The poem could not have been better cut off if
it had been a serial. Here is a portion of the multitude entirely
devoted to telling anecdotes and tales of love. What other subject
could claim Chaucer, the humanist and servant of love (cf. 11. 615-
27) ? The expected story, to embody Chaucer's ideal, must be one

Studies on Chaucer's House of Fame. 155

of ideal human love, bordering on the divine and almost leading
into it. Then appears a man of great authority, whom Chaucer does
not know. What is he to do but to tell one more story ? And, as he
is above all the crowd, what shall the story be but the greatest of all
love stories ?

Now we are fortunate enough to know what story of love Chaucer
preferred above all others at this time, — one sufficiently familiar ;
perhaps because of its very simplicity Chaucer hesitated to bring
it in after all the wealth and circumstance of preparation, and so
broke off his poem. This is the story of Alcestis. Near the end of
Troylus he makes his hero say to Cassandra (Troy/, v, 1527 ff.) :

As wel them mightest lyen on Alceste,
That was of creatures, but men lye,
That ever weren, kindest and the beste,
For whanne hir housbonde was in jupartye
To dye himself, but if she wolde dye,
She chees for him to dye and go to helle,
And starf anoon, as us the bokes telle.

Again Chaucer speaks for himself in defending his advocacy of
Criseyde (TroyL v, 1777 f.) :

Gladlier I wol ivryten, if yow leste,
Penelopees trouthe and good Alceste.

These are the expressions of his taste just before beginning the
House of Fame. That this preeminence of interest in Alcestis did
not fade till after the House of Fame was abandoned, is completely
certain from the preeminent use made of her personality in the
Legend, closely following. The story of Alcestis, then, was probably
to form the chief part of the continuation.

To those who see in the House of Fame a plan suggested by
Dante, this use of Alcestis will form a counterpart to Beatrice.1
Each is the poet's highest ideal of womanhood and of human mag-
nanimity; a long, strange journey leads up to each. In Dante's

1 The lack of a clear parallel to Beatrice drives Rambeau to queer devices ; he
makes her a compound of the humorous eagle and the man who asks Chaucer
his business ! See Kngl. Stud., Ill, 235, 244-45.

156 A. C. Garrett.

case Beatrice leads to the Beatific Vision ; similarly, if Chaucer had
allowed the thought of Alcestis to lift him out of his worldly-mind-
edness into a higher seriousness, and out of this fantastic heaven of
Fame and Rumor into the presence of the Virgin Mary, the poem
might fitly have concluded with an invocation similar to that
transferred to the beginning of the Second Nonnes Tale (C. T., G.,

11. 36-77)-1

A few further considerations may be added to increase the proba-
bility that the story of Alcestis was to have been the chief part of
the conclusion of the House of Fame.

The incompleteness of the poem gains a new significance, and the
reason for it becomes clearer. The third book was already dispro-
portionately long ; masses of elaborate description had protracted
the action, so that the poet repeatedly expresses weariness (cf. 11.
1255 ff., 1329 ff., 1517 f., 2136). If, now, the most important charac-
ter still remains to be introduced and the episode which is the object
of the whole poem has yet to be developed, the attempt to keep any
proportion, while adhering to three books as the form, becomes
desperate ; and, on account of the reader's weariness, the danger of
anti-climax and of doing injustice to the best of tales becomes
imminent. Furthermore, when the poet's liberation from his custom-
house duties occurred by the queen's intervention, it would quickly
suggest itself to him, as a supreme compliment to her, to identify
her with his highest ideal of womanhood, and by so crowning her
in a sense Queen of Love, to associate forever with her the greatest
story of love. In this way the intention first aimed at in the House
of Fame would be fulfilled in the more effective form of an occa-
sional poem of personal bearing, and more nearly resembling the
recent success of the Parliament of Fowls. All Chaucer's interest
in the completion of the House of Fame would then cease.

1This, as being one of the most notable borrowings from Dante, suggests a
possible connection with the House of Fame, so full of reminiscences of that poet,
in point of time and in stage of literary interest. Could it even be conceivable
that it was intended, in this or other metrical form, as the conclusion of that poem ?
That it occurs in the last Canto of the Divine Comedy (Pur. 33), which Chaucer
might have specially in mind at the end of his poem, adds interest to the sugges-
tion.

Studies on Chaucer's House of Fame. 157

Finally, it is noteworthy, in increase of the probability that our
poem should end thus, that in the passage which might be called the
germ1 of the Legend of Good Women (House of Fame, 383-426), since
in it the list of Love's martyred ladies, as such, first appears, Alcestis,
the foremost figure in the Legend, is omitted, — in spite of the fact
that we know she was Chaucer's favorite. This seems well-nigh
inexplicable unless we suppose that her name was held in reserve
for the end of the poem. The device is then the same as that
used for purposes of surprise in the B-version of the Prologue to
the Legend, in which the name of Alcestis is omitted (cf. A-version)
from the BaJade (1. 255) in order to be held in reserve till the end of
the Prologue, 11. 511, 518 (excepting, of course, the oversight, 1. 432).

More than a fair degree of probability cannot, perhaps, be claimed
for the view of the conclusion of the House of Fame here presented ;
but, though direct facts for scientific proof are scanty, circumstantial
evidence appears to favor it.

II. A FURTHER SOURCE SUGGESTED.

No single source has been proposed, so far as I am aware, for the
main framework of the action in the House of Fame ; indeed it is
so simple and obvious as easily to pass for original with Chaucer.
The several parts have been fairly well accounted for ; but the
uniting of them into something like a single plot has been usually
ascribed to Chaucer's invention. That some folk-tale, however, may
have furnished him a hint will appear a possible suggestion when
one recalls two not unfamiliar folk-tale motives resembling motives
in the poem. One of these is the "Glasberg" of German folk-lore,
with a palace on its top : this inevitably forces comparison with
Chaucer's crag or hill of ice (11. 1116, 1165). The other is the
motive of the " Hero carried off by an Eagle," familiar everywhere
from the Greek myth of Ganymede to the tales of the North Amer-

1 Seven of the names in this list occur in the list of 19 conjecturally restored
by Skeat (vol. Ill, p. xxvii), viz., nos. 3, 9, 19, 4, 5, 17, 7 of the latter list ; five of
these are actually treated in the Legend. The remaining name of the former list
(Oenone-Paris) may be compared to no. 12 (Helen) of Skeat's list; and his no.
15 (Lavinia) is also mentioned at 1. 458 of the House of Fame.

158 A. C. Gamtt.

ican Indian " thunder-bird." 1 If we disregard the long descriptions
of the two great temples, the Temple of Venus and the House of
Fame, these two motives contain the gist of the action of the poem.
If we can find a folk-tale in which they are united, and can make it
probable that the material had general distribution, the plausibility
of our theory will be greatly increased.

Ovid's description, — the only source yet suggested for the location
of the House of Fame, — places the House midway in the air, between
heaven and earth and sea. The alteration of this to a position on a
hill of ice is too startling a change, too little indispensable or natural
to the development, to be regarded as Chaucer's unaided invention.
Why should not the eagle simply drop the poet at the door of the
Temple, if Ovid alone was furnishing suggestions? This, indeed,
seems to have been nearly Chaucer's first intention, for, in 1. 1049,
the eagle is said to set him down in a street ; but later we find the
conception altered, and Chaucer speaks of himself as climbing up
the hill with difficulty (11. 1118, 1165). The poet has remembered
something more which he wished to represent. If the ice were an
inevitable element in the allegory, if the outward story here step by
step fulfilled every need of some inner signification, one might with
more confidence say that it was Chaucer's invention for his special
purpose. But. the motives for using a rock of ice — to make the
[ ascent difficult, and to represent the names of great men as melting
away — are quite subordinate in the plot as a whole, and do not
sufficiently account for so striking a situation. The strangeness of
the conception altogether outbalances any rational motives for intro-
ducing it. For Chaucer was not struggling after Fame, — he asserts
that he did not want it ; and to make his ascent difficult and perilous

1 Cf. a remarkable American Indian parallel in S. T. Rand, Legends of the
Aficmacs, pp. 81 ff. Of much greater antiquity and significance are instances of
the motive connected with the Alexander cycle, called to my attention by Mr.
G. L. Hamilton ; in Ethiopic versions, Alexander is carried long distances through
the air by eagles ; Arabic tradition assigns the same adventure to Nimrod ; and
Babylonian records of circ. 650 B.C., if not earlier (cf. Aelian, Nat. An., xii, 21),
relate it of a hero of Babylonia. See E. A. W. Budge, Life and Exploits of Alex-
ander the Great (1896), pp. xxxvii-xl. That Chaucer had in mind some version of
this cycle, telling of a heavenly flight, is proved by his 11. 914-5.

Studies on Chaucer 's House of Fame. 159

was in no sense necessary. Again the names of famous men are of
much less moment than the men themselves whom he is soon to see.
These hints therefore look like traces remaining from some original ;
they are still made slightly suggestive by an artful explanation, but /
are now become subordinate in the plot.

The " Glasberg " is one of the trials used in folk-tales, either for
purposes of expiation or for the attainment of some difficult but
desirable end. The trace of this motive is evident in 1. 1118,

But up I clomb, with alle paine,

a trait which is still suggestive, but is no longer essential, and is not
dwelt upon. Furthermore, though the hill is of ice, the poet is at
first in doubt, and his first impression was,

For hit was lyk a thing of glas, —

possibly a reminiscence of the material in some folk-tale. By alter-
ing it to ice Chaucer improved matters in every way ; the ascent was
more slippery, names could melt away, and above all, ice accords
better with nature.1

Let us trace some of the varieties of these two motives as they
occur in folk-tales. The extent of their geographical distribution
and the frequency of their occurrence cannot but increase the proba-

1 A peak reaching halfway from earth to heaven must of course be covered
with snow and ice ; yet it also resembles the glittering beauty of a supernatural
region. The whole conception was, probably, in a subconscious way influenced
by the ideas of the Terrestrial Paradise, often on a high mountain, between heaven,
earth, and sea, forty fathoms above the highest earthly peak, and untouched by
Noah's flood, etc. Chaucer reaches a sort of mock heaven, a limbo of famous men.
Similarly Rambeau, Engl. Stud., Ill, 249 ff., passim; who, however, agreeably
to his thesis, ascribes the whole conception to Dante's Purgatory. The House
of Nature in Alain de 1'Isle's Anticlatedianns, 1. i, c. 4, is on a mountain
(" montis ardua planities " is all the description) ; the House gleams with gems,
gold, and silver ; it has paintings of such men as Aristotle, Virgil, Nero, Ajax,
Paris. Ibid., 1. 4, c. 7, is the smoking and flaming House of Mars situated among
the spheres ; again, 1. 8, c. I, occurs the House of Fortune, clinging to the brink
of a precipice ; this House is also partly made of gems, gold, and silver, the rest
of mean materials. The descriptions in these cases are very brief, and there is no
trace of glass or ice about the sites. My attention was called to these passages
through the kindness of Professor Kittreclge. See similar material in the Arclii-
t raii its, p. 174, n. i, of this article.

160 A. C. Garrett.

bility that Chaucer had met with them. The exact locality of the
forms is, as is held by recent students of the diffusion of oral tales,
of subordinate importance ; when a tale or motive is in general fre-
quent, it may have appeared in almost any country of Europe, even if
it has not been recorded. Should cases be found in which our two
motives appear combined, the probability that Chaucer's combination
was due to such a tale is, of course, vastly increased.

Perhaps the commonest and most typical form of an eagle carrying
the hero is that in which the latter is rescued from a subterranean
region. Take the instance from J. T. Campbell, Popular Tales of
the West Highlands, no. 16. A king's three daughters are carried
off by three giants. A widow has three sons, who successively
undertake the rescue. The first two fail. With three companions
the youngest travels till he reaches the place under which dwell the
giants who hold the princesses. A hole down into the earth is there,
and the hero with his three men is lowered to the under-regions in a
basket. The first giant challenges to a contest in drinking ; the hero's
first companion takes him up, and before he is half satisfied the
giant bursts. The second giant challenges to eating, and before the
second companion is half satisfied that giant bursts. The third giant
demands a year's service of the hero ; therefore the companions,
taking the princesses, leave him there. At the end of the year the
giant gives him a huge eagle to bear him back to the upper world,
with bullocks to feed it on. Several unsuccessful attempts are made,
but at last, with sixty bullocks, they get just below the top. The
bullocks are all eaten, the eagle is about to drop back, when the
hero cuts a steak from his own thigh, gives it to the eagle, and thus
reaches the top. The eagle gives him a pipe with which to summon
him at need. The hero then returns home and apprentices himself
to a smith. One day the eldest princess demands of the smith just
such a gold crown as she had when with the giant. The apprentice
uses his pipe to summon the eagle, and sends for the crown itself.
The second princess demands a silver crown, and the third a copper
crown,1 both of which are obtained. By this means the apprentice
is discovered to be their true deliverer.

1 Cf. note 3, p. 162.

Studies on Chaucer's House of Fame. 161

From the south of Europe comes a form in L. Gonzenbach, Sicilian-
ische Marchen, no. 61. Three king's sons discover a deep ravine, into
which the eldest is lowered; horrible noises, chain-rattling, thunder,
etc., terrify him, and he signals to be drawn up. So also the second
brother. The youngest is lowered, and undismayed explores the
ravine ; he finds three princesses, slays a Wild Man, and has the
princesses drawn up by the rope. The youngest princess tries to
get him to go first for fear of betrayal by the brothers ; he refuses ;
she gives him a magic wishing-girdle, and he gives her a ring that
will glow at his approach. The brothers do betray him, leave him
in the chasm, and take the princesses. He then wishes for an eagle ;
one instantly comes ; he asks to be carried out on its back. The
eagle will do it for meat, so he kills an ox and fills his sack. In the
flight all the meat is exhausted ; at the top he has to cut off both of
his legs and give them to the eagle to avoid being dropped and
dashed to pieces. Arrived at the top, the eagle disgorges the limbs
and heals him. He then goes home and apprentices himself to a
tailor. The youngest princess has refused to marry ; but now the
king is going to have a tournament, and she must be in a balcony
and drop her kerchief upon the knight she accepts. A splendid
robe is ordered for her of the tailor; he cannot make it, but the
apprentice gets one with his wishing-girdle. The first and second
days the apprentice refuses to go to the tournament ; the kerchief is
not dropped. The third day he is persuaded, and passes, dirty and
ragged, under the balcony ; the princess's ring glows, and she drops
the kerchief on him. She is mocked for her choice and turned out
of the palace. They are married, but have to live in a mean little
house opposite. At last the hero uses his girdle to transform the house
into a splendid abode, and restore himself to his princely guise.1

1 For other instances of the " eagle motive," see the references in J. Jacobs's
very useful glossary of folk-tale motives in International Folk-Lore Congress,
Transactions, 1891, p. 88, s. v. " Eagle carries hero " ; viz., — R. Kohler, in Jahr-
buch filr romanische und englische Literatur, VII, 24; the same, in Gonzenbach,
Sicilianische Mdrchen, II, 239; the same, in Orient und Occident, II, 296; E. Cos-
quin, Contes populaires de Lorraine, II, 141 ; T. F. Crane, Italian Popular Tales,
pp. 40, 336 (n. 14). About 30 further instances can be developed from these
references.

1 62 A. C. Garrett.

Turning to the other motive, that of the Glass Mountain, let us
take as typical of a considerable class one from F. Kreutzwald,
Esthnische Marchen, pp. 1 60, 361. A king's daughter to all appearances
dies ; but an enchanter says she may be restored. He bids them
put her in a glass coffin,1 and then gather all the glass vessels that
can possibly be found ; he will construct an immense furnace, melt
all the vessels, and make a high mountain of glass ; upon this the
glass coffin must rest for seven years. At the end of that time a
proclamation is to call all the young knights together, and one of
them is destined to succeed in riding up the mountain and awaking
the princess. A peasant has three sons, the youngest supposed to
be a lazy, useless fellow. The father on his death-bed bids each one
watch for one night on his grave. The older sons neglect this, and
the youngest watches all three nights. On the first, the father speaks
from his grave, asking who is on the watch ; learning that it is the
youngest, he bids him, if ever in need of help, to come to the grave
and ask for it. The promise of help is repeated each night. At last
the king's proclamation is made. The elder brothers go to try riding
up the Glass Mountain ; the youngest longs to go and betakes himself
to the grave ; suddenly, upon his demand, a bronze horse with bronze
armor stands beside him. He arrives late in the concourse of
baffled knights, but rides straight up the mountain more than a third
of the distance to the top, then turns, descends, and rides away ;
the princess is seen to move. Next day, in the same manner, he
receives a silver horse and armor, and rides more than halfway up ;
the princess moves more.2 On the third day, with a golden horse
and armor, he reaches the top, awakes the princess, and restores her
to her parents.3

1 Cf. Grimm, Household Jates, trans. Hunt, no. 53, Snow-white, and the Viennese
variant given in notes.

2 In Asbjornsen, no. 52 (see next note) the princess holds three apples, one of
which she throws to the successful rider each day. This in conjunction with ver-
sions having a balcony, shrine, or turret, carries us back to the balcony, kerchief,
and three days' tournament in Gonzenbach, no. 61 (before cited), showing a
bond between the two sets of tales.

8 Cf. Asbjornsen og Moe, Norske Folkeeventyr, no. 52, p. 317 (Peasant's grass is
eaten by supernatural horses, with copper, silver, and gold trappings ; " youngest

Studies on Chaucer's House of fame. 163

There is another cycle of Glass Mountain tales in which the means
of ascent is what is known as the " finger-ladder" and related devices.
Take as typical A. Kuhn, Markische Sagen, p. 282. Eight brothers
are cursed into swan-shapes and fly away to the Glass Mountain.
Their little sister, going in search, wanders till she comes to the
Wind's house, then to the Moon's house and the Sun's ; at each she
gets a meal and saves the chicken-bones. The Sun knows the way,
so the little girl reaches the mountain. There she makes a ladder
of the bones ; but as it is just too short she is compelled to cut off her
little finger and make the last round of the ladder with it. Then she
gets up.1 She can release her brothers if she will remain speechless
for eight years and will weave eight shirts of thorns and thistles.
One day a king sees her and marries her. The story then resembles
the Constance cycle.2

We may now proceed to cite cases where there are signs of some
connection, intermingling, or possibly direct combination, of the two
chief motives, the Glass Mountain and an Eagle carrying the Hero.

best " watches and captures them) ; E. Sommer, Sagen, etc., aus Sachsen u.
Thilringen,\, 96 (very similar) ; M. R. Cox, Cinderella, p. 448 ; K. Miillenhoff,.
Sagen, etc., aus Schleswig, etc., p. 437 (note to his no. 13, " Copper Mountain, Silver
Mountain, and Gold Mountain," with which cf. "Three Kingdoms, — Copper,
Silver, and Golden" in J. Curtin, Myths and Folk Tales of the Russians, p. i, and
A. Dietrich, Russische Volksmdrchen, no. 5, to be given more fully later); W. R. S.
Ralston, Russian Folk Tales, p. 256 (similar to Kreutzwald, but hero must leap
horse up to shrine on top of twelve pillars; cf. Russian parallels on p. 260 and
Campbell, III, 263-66) ; Miss Frere's Old Deccan Days, pp. 32, 76 (leaping over a
river, to win a princess in a glass palace) ; A. Stier, Ung. Marchen, 1850, no. 14
(leaping to top of pole). These show the weakening of the conception. Further,
Sigurd takes Brynhild from a Glass Mountain according to a Danish ballad, Sivard
og Brynild, in Grundtvig, I, 16; the hero-tale has here borrowed this trait from
folk-tales according to Grundtvig (p. 15). The heroine is enchanted beyond a
fiery brook in one of these tales with a swan-maiden introduction (see later), viz.
A. and A. Schott, Walachische Marchen, no. 19, p. 201.

xCf. Grimm, no. 25, where the brothers are ravens, inside the Glass Mountain,
which is to be opened with a drumstick, but as that is lost the finger is cut off
and used as a key instead. Cf. also the variant on p. 373 of the notes.

2 One of its most striking episodes closely resembles the birf h of Sigurd-Sigfried
in the \>i$rekssaga, ch. 160 (ed. Unger, p. 163). Cf. also Thorpe, Yule-tide Stories,
p 89.

164 A. C. Garrett.

That the hero in the latter sacrifices portions of his body to accom-
plish with great difficulty the last stage of his journey, must have
been already noted as very similar to the sacrifice of the little finger
to supply the last step in ascending the Glass Mountain. In both
series, furthermore, there are persons, often three princesses, under
enchantment in another world, — in one case, it is the under world,
in the other, an upper world : these persons are to be released.
That another world situated on the top of a high mountain should
be reached by the flight of a bird seems like an almost inevitable
combination of the two motives. Yet the intermediate steps are so
numerous and important that they must receive especial attention.

In Grimm, op. cit., no. 127, we find the Glass Mountain, not as the
ultimate goal, but merely as one difficulty in the search ; sharp
swords and a lake must also be passed by the princess searching for
her prince. She gets up the mountain by means of needles given
her by a family of toads met on the way.1

In Gonzenbach, op. cit., no. 60, there is no ascent at all ; the hero
fails to win a princess, and in the exhausting quest to which he is
then doomed an eagle helps him forward a long distance in return
for being fed on the hero's left hand, arm, foot, and leg. Obtaining
a magic girdle from an old woman, by its means he raises a splendid
palace opposite the royal residence (as in Gonzenbach, no. 61) in the
city which was his destination, and becomes its inmate. The princess
sees him at a window, falls desperately in love, and after a time
recognizes and marries him.2

Very similar to the latter part of Gonzenbach, no. 60, cited above,
is the end of a story given by A. Dietrich, Russische Volksmarchen,

1 In the variant given on page 426 of Grimm, a girl saves King Swan from
the Glass Mountain (cf. Miillenhoff, op. cit., p. 387) by throwing bacon and bread
into the jaws of a lion and a dragon guarding it.

2 In J. G. v. Hahn, Griechische u. Albanesische Mdrchen, no. 70, — a very full
form of the under-world story, — we find that the three brothers, before they dis-
cover the entrance to the under world, have to ascend a high mountain, on the
top of which is a heavy marble slab covering the entrance ; the youngest is
lowered down the hole by a rope, and after many adventures gets out again by
aid of an eagle, flesh, and his own leg, as usual. That the mountain is identical
with the Glass Mountain will soon appear.

Studies on Chaucer's House of Fame. 165

no. 5, — a story of much importance as exhibiting at several points
combinations between the two main series of tales we are considering.
A queen is blown away by a violent wind, and her three sons go in
search of her. They come to a great mountain too steep to climb.
The youngest, exploring its sides, finds a door, inside of which are
some iron hooks,1 and with the help of these he climbs the precipices.
Walking along the top, he comes to three successive tents, the first
with a copper ball on top, and copper-colored embellishments, the
second with the same in silver, the third in gold ; in each he gives
drink to guarding animals and kills a dragon, releasing a princess in
each, and obtaining from them respectively a " copper, silver, and
gold kingdom." 2 Travelling on with his three princesses, he finds a
castle in which his mother is held by an enchanter, and releases her.
The four women now slide down the mountain in a linen cloth ; the
elder brothers receive them, and then jerk down the cloth, leaving
the youngest brother helpless on top. A familiar spirit, however,
having been obtained, takes him to his father's city. Here he ap-
prentices himself to a shoemaker ; the spirit does his work for him,
making such wonderful shoes that the princesses, hearing of them,
order an impossible number. The spirit fills the order. The prin-
cesses then demand that a golden castle shall be built in one night
opposite theirs. The spirit performs this, and the youngest prince,
his master, having become its inmate, is seen by the princesses at a
window, and is thus discovered to be the true deliverer.

The most important trait in this tale is the abandonment of the
hero by his treacherous brothers through withdrawal of the linen
cloth by which the princesses were rescued ; this belongs especially
to tales of a subterranean deliverance, but here appears in connec-
tion with a mountain, ascended, like some of the Glass Mountains,
by aid of hooks.8 The same trait appears more clearly in the version

*Cf. the needles in Grimm, no. 127, chicken bones in no. 25, as well as bear's
or lynx's claws, iron shoes, diamond horseshoe nails, etc., later ; on the meaning
of these, see Grimm's Myth, (trans. Stallybrass), pp. 835 f. and note.

2 Cf. note 3, p. 162.

3 Cf. important parallel from Spain, in A. Duran, Komancero General (ed. 1856),
no. 1263; but the three princesses are in an enchanted tower instead of on a
mountain ; youngest brother climbs up by sticking in some nails, and lets down

A. C. Garrett.

given by Ftahn, op. cit., no. 26. A king's daughter is carried off by
a dragon to the top of the mountain so high that even a bird could
not fly to its summit. The youngest brother goes in pursuit. Seeing
two serpents fighting, he kills the stronger and the other takes him up
the mountain tied to its tail. Having killed a dragon, he frees
three princesses, whom he lets down by a rope ; the elder brothers
receive them, and cut the rope. The hero, returning home, appren-
tices himself to a goldsmith, and the tale ends much as usual.

Another tale from Hahn, no. 15, is a mingling of a number of
motives of importance to us, and furnishes a starting-point for new
parallels. A prince is reared in the close confinement of a glass
castle. One day he finds a bone in his food, with which by patient
scratching he works his way out through* the wall.1 Later he goes
hunting, is led off by a strange hart, and is lost for days. Finally he
meets a Jew, who promises to show him his way if he will first go to
the top of a steep mountain and get gold which is there. Consenting,
he is sewed up in a buffalo skin, and being taken for carrion is
carried off by an eagle to the top of the mountain. He lets the gold
down, and the Jew having received it mocks him a d leaves him on
the top. After days of despairing search, he finds a ring and a door
under the turf, and beneath it a stair going down into the base of the
mountain. At the bottom is a palace, and in it an old man chained
to the wall, who gives him keys to thirty-nine rooms and bids him
amuse himself. He longs to enter the fortieth room. In this three
swan-maidens are bathing. He seizes the clothes of the youngest
and fairest of these, and thus gets her into his power. The old
man gives him a winged horse, with which he takes his bride home.
There he gives his aunt the magic clothes to keep ; but the swan-
maiden entreats, the aunt yields, and the bride, having put on her
magic dress, flies away crying out, " Farewell, and seek me in the
Glass City." He returns to the old man in the mountain to enquire

princesses by a cord ; the brothers jerk the cord from him ; he is saved by three
horses, who give hairs to burn to summon them ; apprenticed to alchemist ; prin-
cess demands gold collar like one she had in tower, etc., — as in other tales cited.
(Cosquin, I, 16, and Gonzenbach, no. 60, n.)

1 For this curious use of chicken bones upon glass, cf. Gonzenbach, nos. 26,
27, 28.

Studies on Chaucer's House of Fame. 167

after this city. The man summons all the birds and asks them where
it is ; at last a " Schnapphahn " is found who knows. With a stock
of provisions the prince starts on its back ; the provisions give out
and he is compelled to give his own foot in order to reach his
destination.

This tale shows another point of contact between the " Eagle " and
the "Mountain " motives ; for the under world is here placed within
the mountain, and a double ascent is necessary, one to the mountain-
top, the other out of the under world. This becomes still clearer
from a version of the tale in A. Schleicher, Litauische Marchen, pp.
128 ff. This begins with a powerful little bearded Woodman, who,
being caught by his beard in the cleft of a tree, escapes and is
traced up a mountain and down a hole. The hero pursues and is let
down into the mountain on a hide thong. After he frees three prin-
cesses, the thong is cut by his comrades. He gets out by help of a
great dragon, to which he has to give his legs.

The means of ascent by being sewed in a skin occurs in Nisbet
Bain's Russian Tales, p. 3, where the hero is sewed into a dead horse
and carried by c'^ws1 to the top of the Golden Mountain to gather
gold ; also in Gonzenbach, no. 6. The hero's being taken for a
corpse and carried up as prey occurs in a more important tale to be
cited later. Another version of the idea occurs in the Zeitschrift fur
deiitsche Mythologie, I, 312. A sister is turned into a dove and lost.
Her brother goes to the Wind, the Raven, and the Sun to enquire ;
the last finds she is high up on a mountain-like island in a lake ; a
steep glass bridge leads up to this, which, by aid of chicken bones
and his finger cut off, he ascends. He fails to perform all that is

:In another tale (Hahn, no. 97), the hero fastens flesh under his belt, and so
is carried off by crows ; the ascent is from the under world. A hero sewed up in
a camel's skin is carried to the top of a high mountain by an " aquiline vulture,"
in the Story of Hasan of El-basrah, Lane's Arabian Nights, III, 397. Professor
Francke points out this motive in the M. H. G. Herzog Ernst, ed. Bartsch, 11.
4165-4335. Here men sewed in walrus hides are carried by griffons to the top
of high rocks. Griffons are common elsewhere, carrying off knights, children,
etc., but pursuit of them seldom repays; see Bartsch 's Introduction, pp. clii-clx,
for parallels in M. II. G. Another instance of carrying off in hides occurs in
Huon de Bordeaux ; see Liebrecht's Dunlop, p. 129, and note 209.

1 68 A. C. Garrett.

necessary for the disenchantment, and his sister is removed to the
World of Darkness. Following, he comes to a mill on a great water ;
the World of Darkness is on the farther shore ; the miller tells him
a great raven comes each day from over the water for three barrels
of meal ; in one of these the brother conceals himself, and is carried
nearly over ; the raven drops his barrel, but it washes ashore, and
the brother finally releases his sister.

The incident of calling a council of birds is frequent. In
Maclnnes and Nutt's Hero Tales of Argyllshire, pp. 151 ff., the birds
are summoned for a soldier engaged in a search. Last of all conies
an eagle, who can take him to his destination, the Kingdom of the
Green Mountains, if enough meat is provided. The soldier starts
out on the eagle's back; the meat gives out, and the soldier has
to give his thighs in order to reach the Mountains. In Hahn,
op. cit., no. 25, the youngest prince, searching for his bride in a
mythical place with marble cliffs and crystal fields, reaches the Court
of the Eagle ; the latter calls all the birds together,1 and at last a
lame hawk arrives who knows the way, and takes the prince thither,
(apparently on foot) ; the prince has an iron shoe and a crutch or
crook (Kriicke) to climb up with.

The incident of the swan-maidens is a not infrequent accompani-
ment of stories of the Glass Mountain. In A. Waldau, Bbhmische
Mdrchen, p. 248, is an especially beautiful story of this sort, which is
also of importance for us. A youth who works in the king's gardens
discovers three swan-maidens in a secluded pond ; he secures the
veil of the youngest and takes her home ; his mother proves an
untrue guardian of the veil, and the maiden, having put it on, flies
away to the Golden Mountain. The youth, pursuing the search
through great forests, meets three hunters; these summon all the
crows by blowing a pipe, and last of all comes a lame crow who
knows of the Golden Mountain. He bids the youth provide him-

1 Can some such folk-tale have suggested to Chaucer the modification of
Alain de 1'Isle which results in the Parliament of Fowls? Cf., however, Koeppel
in Herrig's Archiv, XC, 149 f., and Marie de France, Fable 22. In J. W. Wolf,
Deuische March, u. S., no. i, the assemblage of birds enquired of is presided over
by a queen on a splendid throne in beautiful feather robes (p. 4). Cf. also Camp-
bell, IV, 289 (bottom), and Lechler's Wr/V///(Engl. trans.), I, 217-8.

Studies on Chaucer's House of Fame. 169

self with three acorns, takes him on his back, and away they fly.
Their path lies over the ocean ; 1 the crow, becoming exhausted, bids
the youth drop one acorn ; at once an oak springs up from the sea,
and the crow rests himself upon it. So with the other acorns. At
last they reach a cliff ; the mountain is a hundred miles further,
and the crow leaves him. After a time the youth sees two giants
quarreling on the shore ; he approaches them and offers to be
umpire ; they are quarreling for possession of a wishing-saddle
bequeathed by their father.2 The youth sits down on it, wishes
himself on top of the Golden Mountain, and away it flies with him
to his destination.

A similar saddle occurs in J. Wenzig, Westslavische Marchen,
p. 112. Two brothers are transformed by curses into ravens, and
removed to the Glass Mountain. Their sister, on her search, en-
quires of the Sun, Moon, and Wind ; the Wind knows, and bidding
her take three pebbles, sets her on the "Wind-saddle," and starts
for the mountain-top. When the Wind becomes tired blowing her
up the glass slope, she sets a pebble down, it sticks, and they rest
on it. They barely reach the top after all the pebbles are gone and
the wind is nearly exhausted.3 The girl, to free her brothers, has to
wander three years without speaking ; her adventures again contain
hints of the Constance and Griselda cycles.

Again, the swan-maiden incident occurs in combination with a
clearer instance of reaching the top of the Glass Mountain by a
bird's flight, in T. Vernaleken (1864, translated 1884), In the Land
of Manxls, p. 274. A peasant sees three maidens spring from a lake
and fly away as ducks. Lying in wait, he gets the clothes of one,

1 In Maclnnes and Nutt (note to pp. 151 ff.) the eagle is given three apples
while crossing the sea.

2 Cf. Zingerle, Tirols Volksdickt., etc. (Erster Band, Kinder- und Haus-Marchen,
1852), no. 37, where two boys are quarreling over the saddle; also, Schott, no.
19 (before cited), where three devils are quarreling over the wishing-cloak.

8 Eagle and raven in myths are regarded by some mythologists as symbols of
the wind. This tale taken in conjunction with those following would seem to
favor their interpretation. Cf. E. H. Meyer, Germ. Myth., p. 112, §§ 152, 153.
For a parallel to the above tale, see the lead, silver, or gold dumplings (!) used
exactly as the pebbles above in Folk-Lore Journal, VI, 199 ff. (Hungarian).

170

A. C. Garrett.

which he hides in a chest. She goes and gets them, and flying
away, leaves a note, which says her home is on the Crystal Moun-
tain. In his search he meets a man, who with a pipe summons all
the animals ; last of all, a lame hare limps up who knows the way.
After conducting the youth a long distance, the hare vanishes in a
wood. The youth then comes upon a bear, a wolf, a raven, and an
ant, quarreling over a dead horse. He makes a just division among
them, and each gives him a magic token. Proceeding, he sees the
Crystal Mountain sparkling and flashing through the forest; it has
a fine castle on top. First he turns himself into a bear and tries to
scratch steps with his claws, but the glass cuts him ; then into a
wolf, and tries his teeth, but with no better success ; then into a
raven, and flies to the top. His transformations and tasks in deal-
ing with the witch-mother in the castle are interesting but irrelevant.1
Finally, I will cite the clearest case I have yet found of the hero's
being carried to the top of the Glass Mountain in the claws of a bird
of prey. It is in K. W. Woycicki, Polnische Marchen (translated by
F. H. Lewestam), pp. 115 ff.2 The great beauty of this tale makes
one suspect literary embellishment ; the bare incidents must, how-
ever, partake of the usual antiquity of true folk-tales. An enchanted
princess waits seven years for a deliverer in a golden castle on the
top of a great Glass Mountain. Many knights have ridden part
way up, but have slipped and been dashed to pieces at the bottom.
Three days from the end of the seven years, a knight in golden
armor succeeds in riding halfway up, then turns round, and comes
safely down ; next day he tries once more, and has almost reached
the summit when an immense falcon flies at his horse and tears out
its eyes ; the horse leaps, falls with its rider, and both are dashed to
pieces. On the last day a fine young fellow, a scholar, appears on
foot ; he has heard of the difficult ascent, has killed a lynx, and now
has its claws fastened to his hands and feet. With the greatest
exertion he climbs till sunset, and is then only halfway up ; he is

1 Closely related to these tales is Grimm's no. 93. A very mild form of the
story occurs in O. Knoop, Volkssagen, etc., aus Hinterpommern (1885), p. 104,
" Hiihnerberg."

2 Also given in H. Kletke, Marchensaal, II, 106.

Studies on Chaucer s House of Fame. 171

exhausted, and hangs there in extreme peril all night. Next morn-
ing the great falcon, circling the mountain, takes him for a fresh
corpse, and seizing him in its talons, carries him above the summit.
An apple-tree with golden apples stands in front of the castle ; hav-
ing cut off the falcon's feet with his knife, the youth falls into the
tree. By help of the magic apples he gains access to the castle,
overcomes a dragon, and wins the princess.

In a note to this tale the editor states that it was a belief among
the old Lithuanians that the souls of the dead had to climb a steep
mountain ; claws of lynxes or bears were therefore buried with the
dead.1 The rich found great difficulty, the poor got up with ease ;
sinners were brought up in other ways ; a great dragon bore up rich
sinners, and on the way devoured their limbs ; poor sinners were
wafted up by the wind?

The wide dissemination of tales regarding the Glass Mountain8
and an Eagle carrying a Hero to an upper world has now perhaps
been sufficiently illustrated.4 If Chaucer knew much of " old wives'

1 The collection of Lithuanian beliefs by E. Veckenstedt, Mythen der Zamaiten,
which has been proved unreliable (cf. Melusine, II, 166; V, 121), contains a crys-
tal castle on a mountain, between heaven and earth, I, 38, 86, 91, 118; a golden
eagle carries a demigod on its back to a mountain, I, 87, and another eagle carries
a shepherd-boy to heaven, I, 159 f. The accounts are meagre, and it would be
difficult to say how much is genuine.

2 Cf. Tylor, Prim. Cult., I, 492, and note, with references; Grimm, Myth, (trans.
Stallybrass), p. 820, note, and p. 1544, with references.

3 Other references to this material are: Sv. Grundtvig, Gam. dan. Minder, I,
211 ; J. W. Wolf, Deutsche Hausm., pp. 206 ff. ; Deutsche March, u. S., no. i ; E.
Veckenstedt, Wendische S. u. M., pp. 122-5; M. Winther, Dan. Volkeev., p. 20;
A. N. Afanasev (Pop. Kuss. Fairy Tales}, VII, 209 ff. ; new ed. 1873, I, 497 ff. ;
II, 452 ; Thorpe's Yule-tide Stories, p. ix ; M. R. Cox, Cinderella, p. 525 ; Liebrecht's
Gervasius v. Tilbury, pp. 151 ff . ; Raszmann, Heldensage, I, 151 ff. ; Mannhardt,
Germ. Myth., pp. 330-343, 426, 447. (Full reference.1- in Cox, Thorpe, Liebrecht, etc.)

4 The treatment is, of course, not complete ; ramifications are infinite. The
fullest example of what might still be done is the extraordinary assemblage of
references to untranslated Russian collections containing material related to our
enquiry, made by W. Wollner, in Leskien and Brugman's Litauische Volkslieder
u. Mdrchen (1882), on pp. 525 ff. ; a glass mountain, a glass bridge, a palace in
the air, etc., are mentioned; on p. 531 are cases where a flying wolf helps the
hero, one from Poland (Lud, VIII, 20) where a raven does so ; p. 556, a bird
rescues a man for flesh.

172 A. C. Garrett.

fables," he could scarcely have failed to meet with some of these;
for such wide extension doubtless also implies great antiquity, as is
commonly acknowledged. In the House of Fame it is not to be
pretended that the description of Jove's great golden eagle taking
the poet through the upper air is not strongly influenced by Chau-
cer's knowledge of the story of Ganymede (1. 589 ; cf. Ovid, Met., x,
1 60; Virgil, Aen., i, 28) ; l but, on the other hand, this does not pre-
clude the likelihood that the first hint of the plot of his poem came
to Chaucer from a fairy tale, which was then expanded and embel-
lished according to literary models. In this connection I may cite
from a tale in Jones and Kropf's Folk Tales of the Magyars, " Prince
Mirko," pp. 64 ff. The " youngest best " has a magic mare ; when
he mounts her and shuts his eyes, she goes like a hurricane ; then
she stops, stamps her foot, and says to him : " Open your eyes !
what can you see ? " "A great river and a copper bridge." The
process being repeated, he sees a silver bridge ; these bridges had
been visited and plundered by his two elder brothers. Again they
ride on ; now he sees a gold bridge, guarded by four lions ; they ride
over it. Further on, the mare stops and stamps ; he opens his eyes
and sees an immense steep glass rock ; the mare says they must go
over it; but she has diamond nails2 in her shoes, so up they go.
On top she says, " Open your eyes ! what do you see ? " They are
on a perilous ridge. He sees " Below me a small blackish object,

1 That the eagle had golden feathers and swooped down like a thunderbolt
doubtless comes from Dante (Purg. ix), as pointed out by ten Brink (Studien,
p. 92) and Rambeau (p. 232). This need not mean more than another literary
contribution like the story of Ganymede. The confluence of literary models in
Chaucer is familiar, and is an argument frequently resorted to by Rambeau.
Chaucer's mentions of Boece (1.972) and of Marcian and Anticlaudian (11.985-86)
certainly are introduced as if afterthoughts. The order of recollection as Chaucer
composed may, however, have been this: a first suggestion from Dante (Purg.ix),
supplemented by the Ganymede story, and the other accounts of heavenly flights;
then the subconscious folk-tale motives may have led him to introduce the ice-hill,
with its palace, great witch, etc., as he neared his destination.

2 Cf. A. Stier, Ungarische Volksmarchen, 1857, no. 6 (p. 48). Three horses are
bought, black, yellow, and white, shod with gold shoes and diamond nails, in
order to get from a castle on the Glass Mountain a gold-embroidered cloth, gold
apple and ring, and then the princess herself.

Studies on Charter's House of Fame. 173

the size of a dish." " That is the orb of the earth" she replies. They
go on and have exciting adventures, at last driving some enemies
into the glass rock. Reaching the top, the prince finds a trap-door
and a winding stair to the lower regions ; there is a glittering diamond
castle, and in it a hideous witch weaving troops of soldiers (!) ; he
kills them, gets more diamond nails, burns up the witch, etc.1

Here is evidently a tale containing detritus of our material (I have
cited it only by excerpts) ; the looking down upon " the litel erthe
that heer is," is rather startling when one compares it to Chaucer, 11.
556, 580, 888 ff., 906, 907. That this tale could have any literary
connection with Macrobius is hardly conceivable ; it is more likely
that the literary accounts of heavenly flights rest upon an oral sub-
stratum of popular tales, of which this is a representative. Thus the
Ganymede story must be studied in connection with our folk-tales of
" Eagle carrying Hero," just as the Perseus story is fully proved to
rest upon the widest " sea of story." ' The probability that Chaucer
knew something as well of the oral tale as of the literary myth can
scarcely be avoided.

The citation of tales that I have given, must make evident not
only the diffusion of the separate motives, but the abundance of
complex forms of union, in which the motives inevitably belong to-
gether. We can scarcely deny that at some time there existed a folk-
tale in which an eagle carried a man engaged in an ardent quest to
the top of a glass mountain, on which was a wonderful palace ; that
in this dwelt a great witch,3 and that the object of the quest was
obtained, either there or soon after. There may also have been more

1 Similar is Asbjornsen and Moe's no. 37, about the great horse " Grimsborken,"
where the mountain, " smooth as glass," is more like others in our series. One
or two traits connect it with Grimm's " Golden Bird," which also contains a very
mild version of the subterranean adventure.

2 See E. S. Hartland, Perseus, 3 vols., 1894-96.

3 It seems better to ascribe the goddess Fame to such a source ; Rambeau's
comparison (Engl. Stud., Ill, 254 ff.) of this hideous and vindictive monster with •
the " Mother of God " seems impossible as well as offensive. Of course Virgil's
description of Fame fills in many of the details, as was suggested of Chaucer's
eagle episode and Ganymede. The whole atmosphere of the House of Fame is
that of an enchanted palace, such as fairy tales describe ; cf. especially 11. 1288-
92 and 1493-96.

174 A. C. Garrett.

than one enchanted dwelling visited, in the last of which the object
of the quest was found (eg., in Dietrich, no. 5, pp. 164-5 above).1

Even if one should feel inclined to deny any source but the story
of Ganymede to Chaucer's eagle episode, the improbability of such
an opinion of the source becomes enormous when one considers the
combination of that episode with the ice mountain, and its correspon-
dence to the same combination found in the folk-tales. The two
motives evidently belong together, and should stand or fall together.
As was remarked at the outset, Chaucer's alteration of Ovid's
location of Fame's House to a hill of ice is too extraordinary, too
unaccountable, to be the poet's unaided invention. The recital also
contains traits which, being unessential to Chaucer, appear to be
reminiscences of essential traits in the fairy-tale original. Lastly,
the ice-hill, though evidently of vital importance, has not been other-
wise accounted for. Whence did it come? Amid countless other
borrowings, that one striking trait remains unexplained ; and if the
hill of ice be of folk-tale origin one can scarcely deny that the asso-
ciated traits are probably also of such origin ; the connected action thus
established, closely resembling the action in Chaucer, forms some-
thing of a presumptive claim for the folk-tale ; it gives the link to

1 A similarity to the House of Fame, in general plan, though apparently with-
out traces of either the Eagle or Glass Mountain motives, exists in the important
Latin School Poem Architrenius, by Johannes de Altavilla (or Anville), c. 1184.
The author was a Norman well acquainted with England, and his allegory seems
to have been very popular in the I3th and I4th centuries ; it may therefore have
been known to Chaucer. The hero of the poem starts on a quest after the
Goddess Nature : he soon reaches the Palace of Venus ; then visits the Abode of
Gluttony ; then Paris, with its student life full of hardship ; then the Mount of
Ambition, with a stately palace on its summit, decked with tapestries and paint-
ings ; not far off, the Hill of Presumption, inhabited by ecclesiastics ; there he
beholds Cupidity, an ugly monster whose head reaches the sky : after a time he is
transported to distant Thule, and hears the ancient philosophers discourse ; at last
he beholds a beautiful woman before him, and learns that it is the Goddess of
Nature, the object of his quest. On the Architrenius and its author, see the edi-
tion by Thos. Wright in his Anglo-Latin Satirical Poets of the 12th Century, I ;
also his Biog. Brit. Lit., II, 250 ; Forsch. z. Deutschen Gesch., XX, 475 ff.; Grober's
Grundriss d. rom. Philol., II, i, 381. This analogue to the House of Fame was
kindly called to my attention by Professor Francke.

Studies on Chaucer's House of Fame. 175

join hitherto scattered originals ; for the passages from Ovid, Virgil,
and Dante then take their natural position of embellishments.

The nature of Chaucer's debt is clear ; it is in no sense literary
copying, but is a more or less distinct recollection of an oral tale,
heard perhaps in boyhood. When we consider the evident love for
folk-lore which characterized Shakspere's youth, it seems incon-
ceivable that Chaucer was not familiar as a boy with the multitudes
of folk-tales rife in early days. Wherever an imaginative mind was
free from monastic bonds, it must have met with great quantities of
such material ; Chaucer, as one of the first great authors thoroughly
so emancipated, may well show traces of such knowledge, outgrown
perhaps, but undestroyed.1

In the study of the earlier periods, when books were fewer, the
reckoning which the student must make with oral transmission of
knowledge necessarily becomes greater. This fact is not always
kept in mind by those investigating the 1 4th. century. Though the
thesis here maintained with regard to the House of Fame should fail
of acceptance in many of its details, I hope to have called to mind a
few points of probable contact between Chaucer and oral literature.

A. C. GARRETT.

1 The clearest forms of our material seem to come from east Germanic and
west Slavonic regions; the connection of England with Bohemia in Queen Anne's
time should therefore be borne in mind. But any hint from that source would of
course belong to Chaucer's mature life. Fragmentary or related motives are to be
found in the British Isles, however, and that there may have once been completer
forms which simply escaped record would be acknowledged as possible by all folk-
lorists. The eagle episode is of course complete in Campbell, no. 16; references
to a glass house high in the air occur (cited by Grimm) in Fr. Michel's Tristan,
II, 103 ; cf. I, 222 ; tales of glass stairs exist in Holderness, according to Jones and
Kropf, footnote, p. 350; a " finger ladder " used fora high tree, for which the last
finger was sacrificed, occurs in Campbell, I, 31 ; a princess is to be delivered from
a turret on three pillars on a hill (dun) on the " Green Island " in Campbell's
no. 76 (III. 263 ff.). Best of all, in Campbell, IV, 292 ff., we find that a prince,
being pursued, takes refuge on " a mountain covered with glass (or ice) in winter,"
having with him a magic sword and a sceptre. Later the sword and sceptre must
be brought down from " glass mountains," and his sister is successful in this. Cf .
parallel verses cited from Lincolnshire, in Folk-Lore Journal, III, 188.

ON TWO MANUSCRIPTS OF LYDGATE'S GUY OF
WARWICK.

LYDGATE'S writings are not of a quality to invite enthusiastic
study, but they are of great importance for the investigation
of the age just after Chaucer. They are widely scattered in manu-
scripts and early prints, and up to this time only a few have been
published in satisfactory editions. A great deal remains to be done
in the preparation of texts, the establishment of chronology, and
the study of sources. Some account, therefore, of two neglected
manuscripts will not be useless as a contribution to Lydgate bibli-
ography.

My first plan was to print the Gu$ of Warwick from a manuscript
now in the Harvard University Library, with a description of the
volume and some account of the information it furnishes about the
poet. This work was delayed, and I learned in the meantime of
another copy of the poem at Leyden, which I have since been able
to look up. I can now add a collation of the Leyden text, and a
list of the contents of the Leyden manuscript.

There are two reasons for republishing the Guy, already edited
by Zupitza. In the first place, the Harvard text represents a differ-
ent group of manuscripts ; in the second place, it is the work of an
important scribe, John Shirley, and contains an interesting chrono-
logical rubric.1

The Leyden manuscript is principally interesting for the addi-
tional testimony it gives to support Lydgate's authorship of some

1 Zupitza's edition has escaped the notice of at least one Lydgate scholar, as
appears from the following statement in the Dictionary of National Biography,
XXXIV, 314 : " Guy of Warwick (unprjnted), about 1420, from the lost Chronicle
of Girardus Cornubiensis." Zupitza pointed out (Sitzb. der kais. Akad. der
Whs., Phil.-hist. KL, Wien, LXXIV, 647) that the chapter of the Chronicle which
Lydgate used is preserved and printed in Hearne's Chronicon Prioratus de Dun-
staple. A better text is accessible in the Liber Monasterii de Hyda, ed. by Edward
Edwards (Rolls Series), 1866. Of the date I shall have more to say farther on.

178 F. N. Robinson.

doubtful pieces, such as the Stans Fuer ad Mensam. It contains
two poems now assigned to Chaucer (the balades "This wrecched
worldes transmutacioun " and " Fie fro the press and dwell with
sothfastnesse "), but nearly everything else is traditionally ascribed
to Lydgate. The relation between the Leyden manuscript and
Lansdowne 699 in the British Museum1 is striking, and suggests the
possible existence of a kind of canon of Lydgate's shorter pieces.
The Guy of Warwick corresponds closely to Zupitza's edition, and
I have printed simply a list of variant readings.

My work is necessarily incomplete in many respects. I could not
construct a critical text of the Guy, or make a classification of the
manuscripts, without having access to the copies which have not
been fully described. I have also made no attempt to give complete
lists of manuscripts and editions of the pieces considered. With the
imperfect published catalogues at my disposal, such a bibliography
could not be made satisfactory. But I have tried to give a full and
serviceable report of the two manuscripts which I have examined.
The investigation of the texts will have to be carried to completion
in the English libraries. I hope it will be possible before long to
publish some of the other pieces in the Harvard manuscript.

I. The Harvard Manuscript.

The Harvard MS., since it has been in America, seems to have
dropped out of the sight of European scholars. The only reference
to it that I have seen is in Furnivall's edition of Gyl of Brentford's
Testament, etc. (printed for private circulation, London, 1871). In
the prefatory note to A Balade or two by Chaucer four of Shirley's
MSS. are mentioned, — Harl. 7333; Add. MS. 16,165; Ashmole, 59;
Trin. Coll. Camb. R. 3.20. " Mr. Bradshaw," the editor goes on to
say, "had seen a fifth Shirley MS. — of Lydgate's Poems — that
the late Mr. Lilly had on sale for .£120; but as no English buyer
would give that sum for it, it went to the United States."2 There

1 See p. 1 88, below.

2 Professor Kittredge called my attention to this statement. Mr. Furnivall had
printed the same list, with the exception of the Harvard MS., in the Athenaum,
Feb. 18, 1871. Professor Skeat (Oxf. Chaucer, I, 25) mentions other Shirley MSS.

On Two Manuscripts of Lydgate's Guy of Warwick. 179

can be no doubt that this is the Harvard MS., for a letter of Brad-
shaw's to Lilly has been inserted in the volume.1 Mr. Lilly appar-

1 The letter is of interest enough in itself, and as a scrap of Bradshaw's corre-
spondence, to be printed in full.

" King's College, Cambridge

"3ist July 1866.
" Dear Mr. Lilly,

" I hope the book has reached you safely before this. I sent it off yesterday
morning by fast train. I cannot thank you enough for allowing me the use of it
to examine.

"I shall be sorry if the MS. goes really into private hands for it ought to be in
the British Museum or in the Record Office. The Chronicle is the most interest-
ing part — then the Guy of Warwick. The Compleynt of Cryst is common
enough. We have two MS. copies here, & one printed by de Worde (somewhat
altered). There is another (different) edn., also by de Worde in the Grenville
Library called the Remorse of Conscience (Part I, page 162.) It has been recently
printed by the Early English Text Society from two copies at Lambeth, MSS. 306
and 853. Most of the copies however are imperfect. Yours wants onelenf at the
beginning, and the leaf which now stands first should follow that which your
binder has placed second.

" Of the Three Kings of Coleyne we have two or three MS. copies, besides one
printed by de Worde.

" The Government of Princes I have not traced ; I don't know whether it is the
same as any ordinarily known treatise.

" Of the Serpent of Division by Lydgate we have an early printed copy.

" Of the Guy of Warwick there is a copy among the Laud MSS. in the Bodleian,
& in the Brit. Museum MSS. Harl. 7333 (ace. to Ritson). Of the Chronicle there
are heaps of MSS. everywhere.

" You will say why are those pieces which are commonest those which give
this MS. its chief value. The reason is that few MSS. have anything like the full
(I might almost say gossiping) rubrics which John Shirley the scribe of your MS.
so much delighted in.

" It is of great importance to fix the date of a poem, particularly to get some
landmarks in the poetical life of so voluminous a writer as Lydgate. Your rubric
here tells you that it was written at the request of Margaret Countess of Shrews-
bury &c. so that it cannot have been earlier than 1442. She was a daughter of
the Earl of Warwick — and the books will tell you when she died, which gives a
small compass for the possible date.

"The copy of the Chronicle shows .that the original extended to the death of
Edward III, that the reign of Rich. II was written in French in Paris, and trans-
lated into English by John Lydgate. The rubric on leaf clxxx verso is most inter-
esting. I don't know that it is generally known that this part was written in Paris
— the translation is certainly not ascribed to Lydgate in any other book I ever
heard of.

180 F. N. Robinson.

ently sold the MS. to Mr. William Medlicott of Longmeadow, Mass.,
and it was bought by the University Library at the Medlicott sale,
Sept. 2, 1878.*

The volume is large quarto, rather closely clipped in binding, and
contains 2 1 1 leaves. It is imperfect at both beginning and end, and
lacks a leaf or more between fols. 43 and 44. Leaves 2 and 3
have been interchanged in binding. The whole is on paper ; at the
beginning is a parchment leaf covered with scrawls, and containing
a few Latin verses.2 The date cannot be far from 1450. Bradshaw
seems to have regarded the whole MS. as the work of John Shirley,
and his deliberate judgment in such a matter would be practically
decisive. But two of the pieces (the Govemaunce of Princes and the
Serpent of Division} seem to me to be in a different hand from the

•' John Shirley is said by Stow to have died in 1456 at the age of 90. It is to
him more than to any one else that we owe our knowledge of most of Chaucer's
and Lydgate's smaller pieces. He is the only circumstantial copyist I know.
There is one of his collections in the Bodleian (MS. Ashmole 59.2); one at least
in the Harleian Colin. (I forget the number) ; another in the Brit. Museum MS.
Addit. 16165; and one in Trinity College Library here. You will see something
about him in Warton's Hist, of Engl. Poetry, vol. 2, page 389 (ed. 1840).

" I wish our Library had any funds for buying such things and then I should
have no hesitation in asking them to buy it.

" Yours very much

"HENRY BRADSHAW."

1 See Catalogue of a Collection of Books formed by William G. Medlicott of
Longmeadow, Mass., Boston, 1878, p. 281.

2 Floruit Arthuro sub rege, Britania quondawz
Gallia sub Carolo, floruit ilia suo,

Non minor his, ibat magnus godfridus in armis
Quo sese iactat Belgica terra vetus

Hector Alexander romanae gloria gentis
lulius eximie nobilitate viri,
Et valida virtute pares dignissima turba
Q\ia.m vehat arguta fama canora tuba

losua dux Israeli david Macabeus ludas,
Quos ludae tellus protulit alma viros
His domiti quondam reges pepere triumphos
Insignes et nuwc fama perenna vehat.
(A list, it will be seen, of the Nine Worthies.)

HARVARD MS., FOLIO x, VERSO.

(Size of original patre, 9^ X5 inches, exclusive of margins.)

IlAKVAKI) MS., Foi.lo \X\l\, VKKsn.

(Si/.t- c.foriyiniil \Y.\<H; s'x< .\5'X im-lii's, cxclusivi' of ma

On Two Manuscripts of Lydgate's Guy of Warwick. 181

rest, or at least to have been written at a different time and with a
different pen. They contain no rubrics of interest, and Bradshaw
seems to have paid little attention to them. It is therefore possible
that he may have overlooked the change in the hand. The fact that
these two pieces alone (comprising fols. xxxiv to Ivii) have illumi-
nated capitals, whereas in the rest of the volume the indented squares
are left blank, makes it likely that MSS. originally separate have
been combined. It is of course impossible here to get at other
Shirley MSS. to make comparisons.1 I shall therefore content
myself with giving a- page of each hand in photographic facsimile.

The MS. contains the following pieces : (i) The Compleynt of
Cryst, fols. 1-4; (2) Guy of Warwick, fols. 4-12; (3) The Three
Kings of Coleyne, fols. 13-33 > (4-) The Governaunce of Princes, fols.
34-48 ; (5) The Damage and Destruction caused by the Serpent of
Division, fols. 49-57 ; (6) Cronycles of the Reaume of England, fols.
59-211.

(1) The Compleynt of Cry st. A comparison of the Harvard text
with those edited by Furnivall for the Early English Text Society
shows the following relations : Harv. lacks one leaf at the begin-
ning, so that its first line corresponds to 1. 139 of Lamb. 853.
Leaves 2 and 3 2 in Harv. have been interchanged by the binder.
Harv. follows the order of Lamb. 306, but gives an altogether better
text. It has in a large number of cases the readings of Lamb. 853,
and sometimes serves to correct both the Lambeth MSS. Furnivall
dates Lamb. 853 about 1430, and Lamb. 306 about 1460-70. Brad-
shaw puts Harv. at about 1450. This poem is in the hand of
Shirley. There is no indication of the author.

(2) Guy of Warwick. This will be discussed later by itself.

(3) The Three Kings of Coleyne. This was edited by Horstmann
for the Early English Text Society in 1886 (No. 85). Numerous
MSS. of the English legend exist, which Horstmann divides into
three classes: I, MS. Royal ; II, MS. Camb. Univ. and others; III,

1 The hand of the Harv. Guy of Warwick is identical with that of the Shirley
facsimile (MS. Add. 16165) published by the Chaucer Society. (Autotypes of
Chaucer MSS., 1877-80.)

2 Not i and 2, as inadvertently stated by Bradshaw.

1 82 F. N. Robinson.

MS. Harl. None of the MSS. has the original text. Class II con-
forms best to the Latin original, but Class I is older and has better
readings. The material in I appears to have been rearranged and
enlarged. The Harv. MS. belongs plainly in Horstmann's Class II.
Its arrangement corresponds to the Camb. MS., and it has the same
initial letters in every case. Harv. stops before the passage on
Prester John (Horstmann, p. 138). Where the Harl. MS. (Class III)
has additional matter, Harv. corresponds to Camb. and Class II.1

(4) The Gorernaunce of Princes appears to be in a different hand
from the Guy, the Compleynt, and the Crony cle (see above, p. 180).
No author is given, and I do not know of any other copy. It begins:

Considereth thopinions sentences and diffinicions of wise philosophres
and othir sage persounes Auncient and Autentike that is to sey in the bible
the wise parables of Salomon in the booke of Eccliastique Eccliasticus and
divers othir the Politiques and Ethiques of the famous Philosophre Aris-
totle in his tretie made of the feet of Chiualrye Thaduertisement of Vege-
cius and prudent counseill of Giles in his tretie of Regiment & gouernaunce
of Princes And many othir writinges of souffisaunt auctorite Where ynne
beth shewid parfite rewles and notable conveies by the whiche Kinges
Princes and othir lordis may condue theire estat/s And how the saide greet
lordis of this world may knowe & sette goode gouernaunce in theire owne
persounes in theire peuple and in theire Seigneuries and lordshipes.

It ends :

for in sondry cuntrees beth sondry guyses & dyuers vsages & feetis in
the werre & aftir that is provision to be made & ordynaunce & disposicou«
of officers for thacchevaunce of the werres in eu<?ry cuntree soo that every
prince by the goode aduise of his true counseill shuld be well assured of
his goode & convenient officers for the conduit of his werres as well vpon
the lande as vpon the see as the thinge & tyme will require And these
abouesaid thus briefly towched I passe ouer & speke no more of the gouer-
naunce of a prince in tyme of his werres, but yif it be plaisir to any prince
haue more pleneure & parfyt knowlege of a princes rewle and gouern[au]nce
in his werres lat him byhold & see Vegecius in his tretie full souffisauntly
made vpon the feet of Chivalrie and also the iij d booke of Gyles in his

1 Within Class II it seems impossible to derive Harv. from any of the texts
cited by Horstmann.

On Two Manuscripts of Lydgate's Guy .of Warwick. 183

book made of the regiment & gouernaunce of Princes and in the book<?j of
othir diuerse Clerkis whiche more largely spekith of this matere, etc,

There is plainly something missing between fol. 43 and fol. 44.
There is a break in the sense, and the general arrangement is unin-
telligible as it stands. The author is discussing the four virtues
necessary for the good government of a prince — namely, Science,
Providence, Justice, and Misericorde. Fol. 43 b does not finish the
treatment of Justice, and fol. 44a begins abruptly in the midst of
the treatment of Misericorde.

(5) Lydgate's Serpent of Division. This "was printed with an
envoye'm verse by Peter Treveris, 1520 ?, i2mo ; again as The Serpent
of Division set forth under the Auctours old Copy by I. S., London, by
Owen Rogers, 1559, 8vo, and under the same title together with
The Tragedye of Gorboduc, by E. Allde, for lohn Perrin, 1590, 4to."1
According to Miss L. Toulmin Smith, a fifteenth-century copy
among the Yelverton MSS. belonging to1! Lord Calthorpe shows that
the tractate was written in December, 1400, "by me, Danne John
Lidgate."2 She prints the conclusion of the Yelverton version, which
differs considerably from that of the Harvard MS.

The Harvard text begins :

This lytel tretys compendyously declareth the damage & destruccion
causid in royaumes by the Serpent of diuision.

Whilom8 as olde hookes maken mencion whan the noble famouse Citee
of Rome was moost shinyng in his felicitee and flouring in his glorie liche
as it is remembrid in bookes of *olde Auncetrys the primetemps of his
foundacion whan the wallys were reised on heigh te by the manly and the
prudent diligence of Remvs and Romulus ffor the whiche tyme the Citee

1 See the Dictionary of National Biography, under Lydgate. Hazlewood, in a
marginal note in his copy of Ritson's Bibliographia Poetica (p. 70), now in the
Harvard University Library, remarks that the end of the prose treatise "is one
page of poetry or three stanzas of eight lines each, entitled ' The declaration of
thys tragicall History in thys lytle Booke.' " I suppose this refers to the envoy
of Treveris; no such verse appears in the Harvard MS.

2 Cf. her Gorboduc, Introd., p. xxi. She adds in a footnote that it was ascribed
to Lydgate by J. H[azlewood] in Brydges, Censura Literaria, IX, 369 (1809), and
to Norton by Messrs. Cooper in Athen. Cantab.

s W indented and illuminated.

184 F. N. Robinson.

stoode vnder gouuernaunce of kinges tille vnto tyme that Tarquyn sone
of Tarqvyne the proude for his outrageous offence Doon vnto Lucresse
the wyf of the worth! Senatour Collatyn In punysshing of whiche trespas
by the manly poursuyt of Collatynes Kynrede and full assent of alle the
senat the name of kinges cessede in the Cite of Rome for eumnore.

The text ends :

I may conclude with him that was floure of poetys in oure englissh
tonge and the first that euer enlumynid oure langage w/'tfc flourys of
rethoryk and of eloquence I mene my maister Chaucer whiche compen-
diously wrot the deth of this mighty Emperour seing in this wyse

with boidekynes was Cesar lulius

mordred at Rome of Brutus Cassius

whan many londe & regne had brought full lowe

Lo who may trust ffortune eny throwe

Thus by record of my wise prudent maister to foresaide the froward and
the contrarious lady Dame ffortune thz, blynde and the peruerse goddesse
witA here gery and vnware violence spareth norther JLmperour nor king to
plonge him dovn sodeinly fro the highest pryk of hir onstable wheel Alias
late eu<?ry man left [lest ?] vp his hertis eye and prudentely aduerten the
mutabilite & the sodein chaunge of this fals world and late the wise gouer-
nours of euery lond and region make a merour in her mynde of this
manly man Julius and consideren in her hertis the contagious damages &
the importable harmes of Diuision And late hem seen avisely & take
example how the ambicious pride of Julius and the fretyng envye of Pom-
peye and Me vnstancheable gredy Couetise of Marcus Crassus were chief
and premordial cause ffirst of hir owne destruccion execut and accom-
plisshed be cruel deth and nat only that thise forseid thre abhomynable
vices were cause of her owne deth but occasion of many other moo than
I can telle. The Cite of Rome not only made bare & bareyn of their olde
richesses and spoiled of her tresour on ///e too side but destitut & desolat
by deth of hir knighthode on the tother side whiche me semeM oughte
y nough suffice to exemplifie what it is to begynne a werre and sp[eci]ally
to considre the irrecupi?rable harmes of diuision And for this skyll moost
esp[eci]ally by comaundement of my maistre I toke vp on me this litel
and this compendious translacion aftir my litel kunnyng I haue it put in
remembraunce.

The hand is the same as that of the Governaunce of Princes
(see above, p. 180).

On Two Manuscripts of Lydgate's Guy of Warwick. 185

(6) The Cronycle. This is the so-called Brut, the common prose
chronicle, which Caxton made the basis of his printed editions.
Through the kindness of Mr. Jenkinson of the Cambridge Uni-
versity Library, I was able last summer to make a short examination
of Caxton's first edition (1480), and to take some notes of the con-
tents. The Harvard MS. lacks altogether the introductory account
of the British Islands and the people. It begins with the Prologue,
explaining the name Albion. The chapters correspond for the most
part to those in Caxton. The MS. stops abruptly in the reign of
Henry VI, describing " How Owayn a sqyer of Walys that had
wedded Quene Katryn was arestyd, & of the scisme by twene Euge-
nye & felix." This is chapter 251 in Caxton, whose edition ends
with chapter 263 on the deposition of Henry VI and the accession
of Edward IV.

The rubric of which Mr. Bradshaw speaks in his letter 1 is inter-
esting enough to be given in full. At the end of the account of
Edward III (fol. clxxx verso}, Shirley writes:

Nowe my gracyous lordes and feyre ladyes my maystres ande specyall
ffreendes ande goocle ffelawes vouchesauf here now I beseche yowe to here
the. Cronycle of this sayde Richarde the. secounde sone and heyre to
Prynce Edward and heyre to this, same Kynge Edward the. whiche Richard
of his nobley and prouidence had ferme pees ande loue with alle the Crys-
ten Prynces howe riche he was howe noble howe loued and howe dredde
thoroughe alle the. Reaumes & Provynces and howe //*at ffame & ffortune
by t/ieyre cruwell werre subuerted al his Estate Royall into mysery to the.
lamentacon and pytous compleynt of euery gentill herte the whiche Crony-
cle was lamentabuly compylled at Parys by hem of ffraunce in theyre
wolgare langage and nowe translated by Dann Johan lydegate the munk
of Bury.

The Chronicle begins:

Loo heer my lordes maystres and felawes may yee see a truwe and brief
abstracte of the. Cronycles of this Reaume of England from the tyme that
euer makynde (sic) enhabited hit in to the tyme of the. laste Edwarde
reede/^e or heere/^e the soMe here filowing

1 See p. 179, above.

1 86 F. N. Robinson.

[Ijn1 Me noble land of Sirye Mer was a worMy kyng and mighty and a
man of huge renoumee Mat men cleped Dyoclycyan which wel and worMely
him gouuerned and ruled thorughe his noble chiuallerye so Mat he con-
quered alle Me landes aboute him in suche wyse Mat almoste Me kynges
of Me worlde to him were obeyssant. hit befelle Mus Mat Mis Dioclycyan
wedded an gentyle Damoyselle Mat was wonder fayre of beaute his Emys
doughter cleped labana and sche loued him as resoun wolde so Mat he
gate vpon hir three and thritty doughtres of Me whiche Me eldest men
cleped Albyne, etc.

The last few pages of the MS. are somewhat damaged at the
upper corners, but the passage with which the chronicle ends
is clear :

In the xviij yer Sir Rychard Beauchamp the gode erle of Warwyke
dyed att Roan beyng that tyme lyeutena«t of the kyng yn normandye and
from thens his body was brought to warwyk wher he lyethe worshipfully
yn a new chapell of the south syde of the quere. Also this yer was a
gret derth of corne yn all Englond ffor a Bushell of whet was worth xl
pens yn many places of Englond & yet men mygth not have y nough
wherfor Steph<?« Browne that tyme mayre of london sent yn to spruse &
brought to london -z/teyn shyppes la[dyn] w*t# rye which eaysyd & dyd
moch gode to the peple ffor corne was so skarse yn Englond that —

At this point the MS. ends.

II. The Leyden Manuscript.

The Lydgate MS. in the University Library at Leyden seems to
have escaped the notice of all recent editors. It was referred to by
Halliwell in his edition of Lydgate's Minor Poems (p. 52), among
the copies of The Ballad of Jack Hare? but he can hardly have had
direct knowledge of the MS. or he would have mentioned it else-
where. Sir Frederick Madden knew it, and it was from marginal
notes in his copy of Ritson's Bibliographia Poetica that I learned of

1 Six lines indented for the illuminator.

2 Seep. 192, below. MS. Voss. Lugd. 389, cited by Halliwell as containing the
Ballad on the Forked Head Dresses of Ladies (p. 46), must be another codex
which I did not know of when in Leyden.

On Two Manuscripts of Lydgate's Guy of Warwick. 187

its existence.1 In the summer of 1896 I was able to spend a few
days at Leyden, in which I copied the Guy and noted the rest of the
contents of the volume.2

The Lydgate MS. came from the collection of Isaac Vossius, and
is marked Codex Vossianus var. ling, in quarto, No. 9. It contains
135 leaves. The pages are now numbered consecutively (though
not every one is marked) from i to 270, but there are indications
of an earlier numbering in four series, incompletely preserved, of 40
leaves each. The old divisions appear in Roman numerals, the new
numbering in Arabic figures. At the beginning is an old table of
contents, neither complete nor correct. The MS. was examined in
1869-70 by Mr. Charles H. Doughty, who drew up the following list :

Page8 i. Legend of St. Giles (out of the Latin), (i.)
14. Invocation, (ii.)
16. Of just tithing or tothing, with the Acts of S. Austyn, bishop

of the English, (iii.)

33. Guy of Warwyk and of the Giant Colebrand. (iv.)
58. Dance of Macabre, (v.)

83. The Churle4 and the bird (out of the French), (vi.)
97. The friendship of two merchantmen, (vii.)
130. The tragedy of Arthur, (viii.)
149. The story of Constantine. (ix.)
1 60. The horse, the goose, and the sheep before the lion and the

eagle, (x.)

184. Brief story of English kings, (xi.)

1 88. A complaint with Fortune (princ. "This wrecchid worldis
transmutacioun"). (xii.)5

1 Madden's own copy of Ritson, with valuable marginal notes, was in the Med-
licott collection, and was bought by the Harvard University Library in 1894.

2 I take pleasure in acknowledging the courtesy of the library officials of the
Rijks-Universiteit, and in particular the kindness of Dr. S. G. de Vries, the curator
of manuscripts.

8 The numbering is by pages, not by folios, as stated in Mr. Doughty's list. I
add the Roman numerals for convenience of reference.

4 " Church " for " churle " (in Mr. Doughty's list) is obviously a mere slip of
the pen.

6 This is followed by Chaucer's " Fie from the pres, and dwelle with sothfast-
nesse," which is not represented by a separate title in Mr. Doughty's list.

1 88 F. N. Robinson.

192. Of nurture or good manners, (xiii.)

196. A dietary, (xiv.)

20 1. Colours of a drunkard, (xv.)

204. Of an empty purse, to the Duke of Gloucester, (xvi.)

207. Aureum saeculum degenerans. (xvii.)

214. Certain proverbs of the wise man. (xviii.)

218. Of the unkindness of Fortune (princ. "In thi condicion of

Infortunage "). (xix.)

219. Carmen (princ. "With notis cleer," etc), (xx.)

220. Balade (princ. " I have a lady wherso she be ") (printed with

Chaucer), (xxi.)

222. Dream of Paris (printed with Chaucer), (xxii.)

223. Balade (princ. "Upon Temse fro London myles iij). (xxiii.)
223. Hymn, (xxiv.)

233. Jhe the most glorious name, with the Testament of Lydgate.
(xxv.)

" The several pieces are in more than one handwriting, transcribed
somewhat negligently. The latter pages are of another MS." Pages 233
to the end are meant ; it is noteworthy 'that the Roman numbering is not
interrupted at this point.1

Before taking up the separate pieces in the list, I wish to call
attention to the striking resemblance in contents and arrangement
between the Leyden MS. and Lansdowne MS. 699 in the British
Museum. I have had no opportunity to examine the Lansdowne
MS., and the data in the published catalogue of the collection are
very slight. The first seventeen articles in Leyd. all appear in
Lansd. 699. Of the first, the Legend of St. Giles, only the last
stanza is preserved, the beginning of the MS. being apparently lost.
The next sixteen articles appear in Lansd. in the following order:

1 On p. 209, at the bottom, is scribbled a name which looks like Thomas An-
drew[s], possibly the signature of a scribe. P. 231 (i.e. fol. H63) is numbered viii
(in the fourth series) and p. 235 (fol. n8a) is marked x. P. 231 contains some
scrawls and the following stanza, which seems to refer to an owner of part or the

whole of the MS. :

lowe good and drede schame
deserv lowe and kepe p name
qd John Kyng of dammowe
ffor thysse boke (?) ysse hysse.

On Two Manuscripts of Lydgate's Guy of Warwick. 189

ii, vii, iv, vi, iii, v, viii, ix, x, xi, xii, xiii, xiv, xv, xvi, xvii. The
eighteenth and last article in Lansd. is the legend of Albon and
Amphabel,1 which is not contained in Leyd.

The pieces in Leyd. are most of them familiar and easily recog-
nized :2

I. The Legend of St. Giles is published by Horstmann, Altenglische
Legenden, N. F., 371 f.

II. The Invocation is the same as the Oratio, following the legend
in Horstmann's edition.

III. Of fust Tithyng, etc. Printed in Halliwell's Minor Poems of
Lydgate, p. 135. (I have noted that this occurs also in MS. Camb.
Univ. Lib. Hh. IV, 12.)

IV. Guy of Warwick. See p. 194, below.

V. The Dance of Macabre. I have compared this with the Dauncc
of Machabree, in Dugdale's Monasticon Anglicanum, edition of 1717,
P- 333- The Leyd. text does not give the five-stanza Prologue, but
begins with the "words of the Translator " ("O, creatures that byn
resonable "). The final stanza of Leyd. (beginning " Be nat afferd
this scriptur in tyme of play ") does not appear in Dugdale, and the
envoy in Dugdale, with the ascription to Lydgate, does not appear
in Leyd. The order of dancers in Leyd. is as follows : Papa,
Imperator, Cardinal, Imperatrix, Patriarcha, Rex, Archiepiscopus,
Princeps, Episcopus, Comes et Baro, Abbas et Prior, Abbatissa,
Judex, Doctor Utriusque juris, Miles et Armyger, Major, Canonicus
regularis, Decanus, Monialis, Chartreux, Sergant of lawe, Generosa,
Magister in astronomia, ff rater, Sergant, Jurour, Mimus, ffamulus,
Phisicus, Mercator, Artifex, Laborans, Infans, Heremyta.

VI. The Churle and the Bird. Printed by Halliwell, Minor Poems,

1 This MS. is not mentioned by Horstmann in his edition of Albon and Am-
phabel. He cites only MS. Trin. Coll. Camb. 39, MS. Lincoln i, 57, and MS.
Phillipps 8299. (See also Altengl. Leg. N. F., p. cxxvii, Anmerk.) Madden, in
his MS. marginal notes to Ritson, cites still another copy, MS. Int. Temple,
London. The Lansd. copy, like the Camb. MS., contains the date 1439.

2 I copied in most cases only the beginning and ending, and have therefore
made no careful comparisons with-the printed texts. I have also made no attempt
to give complete lists of MSS.and editions. I simply mention such MSS. as have
come to my notice.

1 9° F. N. Robinson.

pp. 179-193; earlier by Sykes for the .Roxburghe Club (iSiS).1
The Leyd. text corresponds in number of stanzas (55) with Halli-
well's edition.

VII. The Two Merchantmen. This has just been edited by
Schleich, "aus dem Nachlasse " of Professor Zupitza.2 His text
corresponds to that of the Leyden MS. so far as I have noted.
Six MSS. are cited by Zupitza, who, however, has overlooked Leyd.,
and I cannot determine in which of his classes it belongs.

VIII. The Tragedy of Arthur. This is the same as Book viii,
chapter 25, of the Falls of Princes?

IX. De Constantino Imperatore. This is probably Book viii, chap-
ter 13, of the Falls of Princes. The last stanza corresponds with
that in Wayland's edition, and the number is the same.

X. The Horse, Goose, and Sheep. Edited by Sykes for the Rox-
burghe Club, 1822. Halliwell prints the moral in his Minor Poems,
p. 117. The Leyd. text apparently corresponds to that printed by
Sykes. It is followed by a " lenvoye," nearly corresponding to the
"moral" printed by Halliwell, and not appearing in Sykes' edition.4

XI. A Brief Story of English Kings. This is very common in
MSS. It was edited by James Gairdner for the Camden Society,
in The Historical Collections of a Citizen of London in the Fifteenth

1 Halliwell mentions several old prints. Cf. further Furnivall, Captain Cox,
p. Ivi. Halli well's text is based on Harl. 116. Madden cites (marginal notes to
Ritson) MS. Trin. Coll. Camb. R. 3. 19, Art. 8. I have noted the piece also in
the catal. of Camb. Univ. Lib. MS. Hh. IV, 12 and Kk. I, 6 (fragmentary). The
Dictionary of National Biography mentions MS. Cott. Calig. A. II.

2 Quellen und Forsckungen, Ixxxiii, Strassburg, 1897.

8 Wayland's ed. (1558), fol. xiii (of Bk. viii). Schick, Temple of Glass, p. cli,
notes several instances where Ritson has catalogued parts of the falls of Princes
as separate works. Single chapters appear by themselves not infrequently in
MSS. Madden (marginal notes to Ritson) cites also MS. Lambeth 491, fol. 275,
for the Tragedy of Arthur. The Story of Constantine in Leyd. is another case.
So also is the Aureum Saculum Degenerans (cf. p. 192, below.) I have noted
further that Dido's Envoy, published by Halliwell (Minor Poems, p. 69) comes
from Bk. ii, ch. 13, and the Poem against Idleness (Halliwell, p. 84) corresponds
(nearly) to Bk. ii, ch. 15.

* In addition to the MSS. cited by Halliwell I have noted Camb. Univ. Lib.
MSS. Hh. IV, 12.

On Two Manuscripts of Lydgate s Guy of Warwick. \ 9 1

Century, p. 49.* The Leyden version begins with the Conqueror
and ends with Henry VI.

XII. A Complaint with Fortime. This is the familiar ballade of
Chaucer, printed in Professor Skeat's Oxford Chaucer, I, p. 383.
It is followed in Leyd. by " La (?) bon conceil de 1'auctour,"
Chaucer's " Fie from the pres and dwelle with sothfastnesse." The
two were apparently taken as one poem by Mr. Doughty when he
made out his table. In the same way, the British Museum Cata-
logue mentions only the first for Lansd. 699, but Mr. Skeat (pp. at.,
I, p. 50) makes it clear that both poems are in that MS.

XIII. Stans Puer ad Mensam. Printed by Halliwell, Reliquiae
Antiquae, I, 156-158, and by Mr. Furnivall in the Babces Book, pp. 26-
33. Leyd. agrees with Harl. 2251 in ascribing the piece to Lydgate.2
Hazlitt, Early Pop. Poetry, III, 23, has the text of the Reliquiae
Antiquae collated with Harl. 4011, Lansd. 699, and Addit. MS.

XIV. A Dietary. This corresponds in part with the Rules for
Preserving Health in Halliwell's Minor Poems, p. 66, and with the
Diatorye in the Babees Book, p. 54. Compare also the Secreta Secre-

1 From Brit. Mus. MS. Egerton 1995. He cites also MS. Ashmole 59 and
MS. Harl. 2251, fol. 2b, which contains a stanza on Edward IV. Madden (mar-
ginal notes to Ritson) refers to Harl. 2251.3, Cott. Jul. E. V., Rawl. c. 86, Ashmole
59, Bodl. 1999.6, Harl. 7333, Harl. 78.24, Univ. Leyd., Trin. Coll. Camb. R. 3.21,
and Coll. Arms 58. But the last reference may be a mistake. For a poem on
the same subject, but in a different metre, is printed from a MS. of the Coll. of
Arms by Hearne in an Appendix to his edition of Robert of Gloucester (II, 585).
In Harl. 372 there is a poem " On the Kings of England from Alfred to Henry
VI, probably by Lidgate." First line — " From tyme of Brute auctours do
specefye." (See Brit. Mus. Catal.) What is the relation of this to the Leyden
poem ?

2 Halliwell printed from MS. Jes. Coll. Camb. Q. T. 8. The Babees Book has
two versions, from Harl. 2251 and Lambeth 853 respectively. Madden (marginal
notes to Ritson) cites in addition Harl. 4011, Laud 683, Rawl. c. 86, and Cott.
Cal. A. II. Furnivall (Captain Cox, p. c) adds MS. Ashmole 59 and points out
that the Cott. Cal. poem is not the sarne. I have noted from the catalogue that
the piece is also in Camb. Univ. Lib. MS. Hh. IV, 12, with ascription to Lydgate.
An expanded version from MS. Ashmole 61 (later than 1460 A.D.) is published in
Furnivall's second Babees Book. On early printed versions see Furnivall, Captain
Cox, p. xcix.

192 F. N. Robinson.

forum, 11. 1268 ff. (Steele's edition, p. 41). I did not copy enough
of the text to enable me to make out its relations. In Leyd. there
are 21 stanzas, in Halliwell's text 10, and in the Babees Book only 9. l

XV. Colours of a Drunkard, or Descriptio Garsionys. This is the
familiar Ballad of Jack Hare, printed by Halliwell, Minor Poems, p.
52, from Lansd. 699. Also in the Reliquiae Antiquae, I, i3.2

XVI. Of an Empty Purse, to the Duke of Gloucester. Printed
by Halliwell, Minor Poems, p. 49. Madden (marginal notes) says it
was also printed by Nicolas, Chron. of London, p. 265.

XVII. Aureum Saculum Degenerans in Pejus or Quaedam Com-
pilacio Facta contra Gulosos. This, as already stated, is from the
Falls of Princes, Book vii, chapter 10. There are 26 stanzas in
Wayland's edition as against 25 in the Leyden text. Then follow
in Leyd. two stanzas, called Signa Saeculi Degenerantis, which I
have not been able to find in the Falls of Princes? beginning :

who so list know the toknes p<?rversary
how that this wrechid world shall diffyne, etc.,
and ending :

pr^latis w/V//out connyng & science
religious folke out off obedience.

XVIII. A Booke of Proverbes of the Wise Man. This apparently
corresponds to lines 1-116 of the Proverbis of Wysdom, printed by
Zupitza in Herrig's Archiv, XC, 241.*

1 I suspect that two poems have been joined in Leyd. In Laud 683, for ex-
ample, the catalogue mentions A doctryne offfesyk (fol. 60), beginning " For helth
of body kepe fro cold thyn hed " (which is the first line in Halliwell's poem) and
A doctryne for pestilence (fol. 62), beginning " Who wil be hooll and kepe hym
fro siknesse " (which is the first line in Leyd.). In addition to the MSS. mentioned
by Halliwell and by Furnivall, Madden (marginal notes) refers to Lambeth 444
and Addit. 11,307. Caxton's Governel of Health (printed 1489) contained the
Medicina Stomachi (in 81 lines), which apparently corresponds in part to our
Dietary. This was reprinted privately by William Blades in 1858, but I have not
been able to see a copy.

2 Halliwell cites "MS. Voss. inter MSS. Bibl. Lugdun. c. 189." There is an-
other copy in Laud 683.

3 I cannot be sure from the Catalogue whether these stanzas are in Lansdowne
699 or not. No separate title is given them.

4 Zupitza's text is from Bodl. Rawl. F. 32. Madden (marginal notes) cites be-
sides MSS. Harl. 7578 and Trin. Coll. Camb. R. 3.19.

On Two Manuscripts of Ly Agate's Guy of Warwick. 193

XIX. Three stanzas on Fortune (eight lines each). Begins :

In thy condiciouw of inffortunage
vnstedfast fortune ther is no confidence, etc.

Ending :

ffro folkis honerable thou makist for to fle
thurh thi transmutyng fals fragilite
and puttist seruantis in unstable rage
out off favour & grace of sou^rente
In to turment off povert & damage.

XX. Carmen. A song in four stanzas, beginning:

with notis cleer & vois entuned clene
lyk the ravisshyng marvelous armony
off Iherusalem I hard the phylomene
In dirk december syng melediously, etc.,
and ending :

and in a figur off my sty sentence
all thouh I be vnable to discerue
hir grace I will her prayse & serue.

XXI. Ballad. Printed in Stowe's Chaucer (1561), fol. cccxliiijb.

XXII. Dream of Paris. Also in Stowe's Chaucer, fol. cccxliiija.

XXIII. Ballad, in two stanzas. Begins:

Vpon temse fro london myles iij

In my chambir riht as I lay slepyng, etc.

Ends:

That neuer in gravyng nor in portrature
Sawe I depict so fayre a creature.

XXIV. Hymn. This is written in a very small hand, apparently
different from that of the preceding pieces. Begins :

Moste glorious lord with thy god be thou my spede.

Ends:

To hos verteu I betake vs in eu^ry cost

And to Marie that maydyn euene

Est Amen w/t^ alle the courte of heuene.

There are twenty-seven stanzas in all.

194 F. N. Itobinson.

XXV. Jhe the most glorious name, with the Testament of Lydgate.
This corresponds pretty closely to Lydgate's Testament, printed by
Halliwell, pp. 232 ff. The whole is on paper and in a very different
hand from anything else in the MS.1

III. Guy of Warwick.

So far as I know, only four MSS. of the Guy of Warwick have
been mentioned by the editors of Lydgate. These are: (i) MS.
Laud 683; (2) MS. Harl. 7333; (3) MS. Lansdowne 699; and (4)
MS. Trin. Coll. Camb. R. 3.21.

The Laud text was edited by Zupitza in his Akademieschrift (Wien,
1873), 3 who supposed at the time that no other copy existed. In
the Zt. fur die oesterreich. Gymnasien, 1874, p. 727, he stated that
three other MSS. had come to his notice. These were Harl. 7333,
the end of which was published in the Percy Folio MS. (Hales and
Furnivall, II, 520), and two others, which he did not name. Fifteen
years later, in his Alt- und Mittelenglisches Uebungsbuch (p. no)
he cited Lansd. 699 and Trin. Coll. Camb. R. 3.21, presumably
the two referred to before. In the meantime Ward, Catalogue of
Romances, I, 494 (published in 1883), had described the two copies
in the British Museum, and Kolbing (Germania, XXI, 365) had
published a list of the principal variations between Lansd. 699 and
Zupitza's text. The Harvard and Leyden copies appear to be
unknown to the scholars who have occupied themselves either with
Lydgate or with the Guy of Warwick cycle of romances.

Of the six MSS. known to exist, we have, therefore, texts or
collations of four and some description of a fifth.3 Without more

1 In addition to the MSS. mentioned by Halliwell, Madden (marginal notes)
refers to Laud 683, Eg. 18. D. II. i, Reg. 18. D. II. i.

2 Sitzb. der Phil.-hist. Classe der Kais. Akad. der Wiss., LXXIV, 623. Sepa-
rately printed under the title Zur Literaturgeschichte des Guy v. Warwick. At the
same time Zupitza pointed out that the poem in Harl. 5243 cited by Hazlitt-
Warton (II, 32) is not Lydgate's but John Lane's.

8 Of the Trin. Coll. MS. I think nothing has been published beyond the few
variant readings which Zupitza gives in his Uebungsbuch. I cannot even deter-
mine whether it belongs in Class A or Class B, but I infer that the rubric in
Harv. and Harl. 7333 is wanting, or Zupitza would have mentioned it somewhere.

On Two Manuscripts of Lydgate's Guy of Warwick. 195

definite knowledge of the Camb. MS. and of Harl. 7333 I shall not
undertake to classify the different texts, except so far as to point
out that they fall obviously into two groups, — A, containing Harv.
and Harl. 7333; and B, containing Laud 683, Lansd. 699, and Leyd.
Class A is characterized by a long introductory rubric, which accounts
for the origin of the poem and serves to date it approximately. The
poem has seventy stanzas, with an Envoy of four" lines. In Class
B, on the other hand, the rubric is wanting, the Envoy contains eight
lines, and three extra stanzas (34, 35, 36) appear in the body of the
poem. Since both the MSS. in Class A are by Shirley, the rubric
is doubtless his.1 Finally, stanza 30 is different in the two
versions.2

Zupitza referred to the Harleian text as being "bedeutend
schlechter " than Laud 683, which he had published. This state-
ment was based on the short passage printed in the Percy Folio MS.,
and is not to be taken as a deliberate preference of Class B to
Class A, I suppose. Ward apparently looked upon the shorter form
of the poem as the better, and pronounced the three extra stanzas
(34> 35> 36) "quite superfluous." Even if they were, we should
hardly be justified in rejecting them, for Lydgate was capable of
superfluities. But they are clearly supported by the Latin original,8
and are indubitably in the manner of the poet. It is easier, more-
over, to assume that three stanzas were omitted in copying (they
make, for example, an even page of the Leyden MS.) than to sup-
pose that any one added to Lydgate's work.

1 Cf. Bradshaw, p. 179, above, on Shirley's "gossiping rubrics." Harl. 7333 is
cited as Shirley's by Furnivall in the note already quoted from Gyl of Brentford's
Testament (p. 178, above) and by Skeat in the Oxford Chaucer, I, 25.

2 In this case I cannot answer for Harl. 7333.

8 The stanzas in question translate the following passage : " Rex evigilans, et
Deo pro sibi de superius praestita revelacione gratias agens, summo mane surgens,
duos pontifices secum accipiens, et duos comites, praedictam adiit portam, expec-
tans mendicantium adventus horam, qua civitatem intrare solebant. Et ecce
nutu Dei in vigilia natalis Sancti Johannis Baptistae, hora, qua sol oriendo primo
radios mittit in terram, Gwydo, Comes de Warewyk, miles strenuus et insignis,
apud Portys muth applicuit, a peregrinacione de longinquis transmarinis partibus
veniens, Angliam natale solum revisurus." (Liber Monasterii de ffyda, p. 120.
Compare Chron. de Dunstaple, ed. Hearne, II, 827.)

196 F. N. Robinson.

In the case of stanza 30, on the other hand, Shirley's text cor-
responds the more closely to the Latin original. Leyden reads:

Toward the Kyng cast his lok benyng
bad him trist all holy in his grace
bi a token and an entir syng
which shall bi shwed to hym in riht short spas
of slep adawid the Kyng lifft vp his face
markith euery thyng & prudently took hed
to whom the angil his heuynesse to enchas
thes wordis hadde in stori as I rede.

The Harv. stanza forms the beginning of the angel's speech to King

Athelston :

I, goddes aungell, sent ffrome hevenly kynge
ffor to releesse thyn hevy perturbau#ce,
whether thou slepe or that thou be wakyng, —
God hath resceyued thy prayer*? & penaunce,
/Ayne pytous wepyng & alle thyn olde greuau«ce
shall hastly chaunge to ioy & to plesaunce.
Ne drede the not, but haue thou in remembraunce,
as I to the shall nowe here expresse.

The Latin 1 has : " Misit Dominus Angelum suum, qui regem con-
fortaret, in agonia constitutum [represented by stanza 29]. Qui
eum sic allocutus est: 'Athelstane rex dormis an vigilas? Ecce
missus sum ad te Angelas Domini a Domino Ihesu Christo, ut dicerem
tibi, ne timeres frustratus auxilio, sed eras mane surge et propera ad
borealem portam civitatis," etc. The last clause is represented by
stanza 31. May we assume that Lydgate wrote both the stanzas
numbered 30 ? In that case one would have been omitted in the
MSS. of Class B, and the other in those of Class A. It is not
impossible that the omissions in Shirley's MSS. represent intentional
excisions.

I have said that Shirley's rubric serves to give an approximate
date for the poem. Bradshaw noted this in his letter,2 and Ward
also pointed it out in his description of Harl. 7333.* But since

1 Lib. Mon. de Hyda, p. 120. See also Hearne, op. cit., II, 826.

2 See p. 179, above. 8 Catalogue of Romances, I, 494.

On Two Manuscripts of Lydgate's Guy of Warwick. 197

Schick in the introduction to the Temple of Glas1 and Lee in the
Dictionary of National Biography* still repeat the old date con-
jectured by Zupitza, I may be allowed to print Ward's statement
once more. The rubric says (I give the Harleian reading, following
Ward) that the poem was "translated into Englisshe be lydegate
dann Johane at the requeste of Margarete Countas of Shrowesbury,
ladye Talbot fournyvale and lysle, of the lyf of that moste worthy
knyght Guy of warwike of whos bloode shee is lyneally descendid."
" This," according to Ward, " was the eldest daughter of Richard de
Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick and Aumarle, and Lord PIsle (the
latter title derived from his first wife, this lady's mother), who
founded the chantry at Guy's Cliff in 1430-1, and died 3oth April,
1439. Margaret was married to John, Lord Talbot and Furnival in
1438-9 ; he was created Earl of Shrewsbury in 1442, and their son
was created Lord 1'Isle in 1443 ; father and son were both killed in
1453, and she herself died on the i4th June, 1468." The earliest
possible date for the poem appears, therefore, to be 1442, and
Zupitza's suggestion ("urn 1420") must be given up.

IV. Text (Harvard MS.}.

Fol. iv b.

Her nowe begynnyth an abstracte owte the cronycles in | latyn made
by Gyrade Cornubyence the worthy the cronyculer | of Westsexse & trans-
latid into Englishe be lydegate Daun | lohan at the request of Margret
Countasse of Shrowesbury | lady Talbot ffournyvale & lysle of the lyffe of
that moste | worthy knyght Guy of Warrewyk of whos blode she is | leny-
ally descendid.

i ffrome Grists byrth complete nyen hundred yere
Twenty & seven be computacyoun,
Kynge Athelston, as seyth tht cronnyculer,
Regnyng that tyme in Brutes Albyou«, 4

Duryng ///an harde the persecusyoun
Of the Danes, that with her myghtty hande
Rode, brent, & sloughe, made noon excepcyoun,
Be cruwell ffoorce thoroughe oute alle this lande — 8

1 P. cxii. He gives 1423 (?).

2 XXXIV, 314 b.

198 F. N. Robinson.

2 They sparyd neyMer hye ne lowe degre,
Chirchis, callages, but bet of hem adowne,
Myghtty castelkj & many gret citee :

In Meyre wodnesse, by ffalse oppressyoun, 12

Vn-to the bownes of Wynchestr^ towne

With swerd & ffuyre they made alle wast & wylde

[And in ther mortalle persecucyoun]

Ne spared nought women gon gret with chylde. 16

3 In this brennyng, ffuryous cruweltee,

Twoo Dannysshe prynces, pompos and elate,

Lyche wode lyouns & voyde of alle pitee,

No ffauowr shewe to lowe noyther hye astate. 20

Alas ! this land stode than discounsolate.

Ffroward ffortune at hem hath so disdeyned,

Mercury & Mars held with hem debate,

So was the kynge & lord[es] Mane constreyned 24

4 By fforce, alias ! to take hem to the fflyght.

The Dannysshe prync^-y ageyne hem wer so wode,

On hillis hye ther beekens wer so lyght

(Ffortune of werre in suche disyonyt thoo stode), 28

The peple spoyled & robbyd of her goode

For mortall drede of colour ded & pale,

Whan the stremys ranne downe of blode

Lyche the ryuer ffro the hille to the vale — 32

Fol. v«. 5 Paraventure ffrome some olde antiquite,
As is remembred of olde trespase
Of oon p<?rsone in cronycles as ye may see,
Myght be withdrawen happe, ffortune, & grace. 36

Rede howe the myghtty, ffamous losuee
Was putte abacke iij dayes in bataylle.
Theffte of Nathor caused //ze aduersitee :
Till he was stonnyed they myght not pr^vayle. 40

6 7%us be the pryde & veyne ambyssyoun,
Thz cruwell ffury of Meise prync^-r tweyne,
The reavme alle-moste broughte to distruccioun ;
Bellonas swerd gan at hem disdeyne ; 44

On Two Manuscripts of Lydgate's Guy of Warwick. 199

pensyff, th& pourayle gan compleyne
On thise thyrauntey called Anelaphus
As that my auctowr rem^wbre/^e in certayne, —
Tht o///!er was named Genalaphus. 48

7 TXtis myscheve werse Man stroke of pestilence
God to punysshe offt is ffounden mercyable :
Swerd of thyrante sle//*e ffolke w*t# violence,

T^eyre ffuryous hand[es] ben wode & vengeable. 52

Where ffolke repent cure lorde is ay mercyable,

77*at syttyth aboue, & holdyth alle in his hande :

Thise twoo to shedyn blode thyraunter full able

VJi\.h swerd & fflawmbe they troubled all this land. 56

8 God ffor the synne — [by] recorde of scripture —
Chastysed hath many a ffayre citee

& suffred gret myscheeve to endure.

Recorde of Ier[sa] l[e]m, recorde of Nynyvee ; 60

Parys nerr hoome hathe had his part, parde,

Ffor lechery & ffals amby[ss]y[ou]n ;

Palpable ensaumples her men may ssee

Of Roome, Cartage, & of Troyes towne. -64

Fol. v b. 9 This mater offten hathe ben exempleffyed :
Lackying of wysdame & goode counseyle
That ffolke herter ne wer not ffull applyed
Ffor to swe vertuwe ffor theyre owen avayle ; 68

Of gladde ffortune the wynnde blewe not her sayle :
Ffor theyr demerytes god punysshed hem ryght.
Owtrage & vyces hathe vengeaunce at his tayl.
TVzaughe Edelston kynge wer a manly knyght, 72

10 T^ese cruwell Danes — //as Englissh blode to shede
Theyre swerd^j wer whett & thzyr ffuyr lyght :
Yit, in the cronnycles who list bokes rede,
Kynge Ethelston was a ffull noble knyght, 76

T^aughe ffor a tyme eclipsid was his lyght
Off his ryall and marcyall mageste.
The hande of gode stod all wey in his myght
To chaunge his treble in-to pr<?sp<?ritee. 80

200 F. N. Robinson.

1 1 The sunne is hatter affter sharpe shoures,
The gladde morowe is next Me derke nyght,
Afiter wynter cometh May wil/i ffreshe ffloures

And affter mystej Phebus shynyth bryght, 84

Next the trouble hert<?.r ben made lyght,

And to conclude lyche as I began :

God lyst to cas[t] his counfortable syght

To recounforte his [kjnyght kynge Ethelstan. 88

12 Thus in this mater ffyrther to precede :
Constreyned of werre & gret aduersytee
Made hym to drawe, in cronnycles as I rede,

W/t/j his lord^j of hye & lowe degree 92

To holde counseylle at Wynchestre citee

Theyr remedy in haste for to pwvyde

Ageynst the malyce & ffuryous cruweltee

Wrought be the Danoys in her marcyall pryde. 96

Fol. \ia. 13 Of alle this reaume gadered wer the. estater,
To ben avysed hole in this mater.
Prync^j, barounys, busshopp<?j, & prelates
At Wynchestre wer they assembled in ffere. 100

Hope & ffortune shewed hem hevy chere,
ffor theyre trust ffell in-to disesp^raunce ;
Knyghthod had loste hooly the maner,
So destuyt they wer of swerd & of launce. 104

14 In theyre prayer was no remedye,
Redresse to ffynde nor consolacyoun :
Mars sett abacke alle theyr chyvalry.

7%us stode in Mis lande in desolacyoun 108

The Danoys stronge by ambycyoun —

77ris Ethelston be constreynte & dystresse

Held with his lord^j a counseylle in Mat towne

To ffynde a meene his myschevee to redresse, 1 1 2

15 Be the grace of god howe hit myght bene amendid
Recure to ffynde of theyre aduersytee.
Breeffely to seyne : they wer thus condiscendid

Be ambassatry or meene of some traytee, 116

On Two Manuscripts of Lydgate's Guy of Warwick. 201

Streytely dreven of pure nescessitee,

Alle tho Danys with hoomag^j ffor to qweeme

Or vnder trebute to haue this libertee,

As a subgette reyoysyth his dyademe, 120

1 6 Or to appoynte of partyes be couenaunt,

Kynge Ethelston ffor hym to ffynde a knyght

With Colbrounde of Denmarke, thz. geaunte,

Day assigned to entre with hym in ffyght 124

Ffor to darren be-tweene hem twoo the ryght,

Who shall reyoyse the stronge & myghtty hande

To holde ceptun? be manhod & be myght

& haue possessyoun hooly in this lande. 128

Fol. vi b. 17 The. kynge, the lordes beyng ther pr<?sente
With-oute respyte or longe delacyoun
To geffe aunswer of ther ffull entente,

Tacquyte hem selfe (for shorte conclusyoun), 132

Qthtr to make a resygnacyoun
Of ceptre & crowne, or ellis to fynde a knyght,
As I seid erste, to ben his chaumpyoun,
Ageyns Colbrond to entre in ffyght— 136

1 8 The Danyes duk^j of malyce importable,
Wode & contrarye in theyre marcyall rage,
In other wyse lyst not to ben tray table,

Requyred in haste be ambassad or message 140

To haue aunswer, plegges or hoostages,

Of this convencyoun aunswer for to sende,

Howe they pz^rpossen to putten in morgage

Lyffe of tweyne (to make a ffynall ende). 144

19 77zis poyntment ffull streytly was fforthe ladde :
Of yrous haste the Danys wold no delaye.
Kynge Ethelston was so harde bestadde

And alle his prynces putte in gret affraye ; 148

A-ffor Wynchestr^ thise proude duk^j laye,

The kynge with-inne astonyed in his mynde,

Ffulle moche the mor be-cause he knew no wey

In his deffence a chaumpyoun to ffynde. 1 52

202 P. N. Robinson.

20 KouMe thenke no meene as in this matere
Remedy to ffynde be raysoun accordyng,
But by assent to take hym to prayere,

He & his lordys in wakyng & ffastyng, 156

7%e pour* & ryche, to make no tarying :
Alle echon, as they wer of degree,
With bytter terys semed be her wepyng
Penaunce dooyng as ffolke of Nynevee. 160

Fol. viia. 21 Ffrome the hye estate downe to the pourayle
Soughte alle degrees, but they ffynde no wyght
To vnd<?rfonge Me empryse of this batayle
[Ageyn the geaunt of Denmark ffor to ffight], — 164

Heraulde of Arderne, the goode ffamous knyght,
Called in his tyme of pr^wesse neghe & fferre
Ffader of armes, to euery man»ys syght
Next Guy of Warrewyk most knyghtly loode sterre — 168

22 7%e said Herauld beyng Moo absente

Oute of this reavme to seche the sunne of Guy,

Called Reynebrowne, in the cuntreys adiacent

And alle the provinces that stoden ffast by, 172

Which in his youthe was stollen traytourosly -

And by m^rchaunt?^ on-godely ladde away, —

Ffelyce his moder wepyng ryght tendrely,

For his absence wepyng nyght & day, — 176

23 Borne be descent to ben his ffader heyere,
Hir dere sone Reynebrouwe ffor to succede.
In alle her tyme was holden noon so ffayre,

Called ensaumple of truthe & womanhed : 180

Ronaulde hir ffader ffor noblesse & manhed,

7>fcan eorlle of Warrewyk, named Me best knyght

Levyng Moo dayes, in story as I rede,

But he was so fflowryng in his myght, 184

24 Payed his dette of dethe vnto nature,

By Parchas sustren Mat sponnen Me lyves thred.

As the story remembrith by scripture,

Whan Mat Ffelyce conceyved had in dede 188

On Two Manuscripts of Lydgate's Guy of Warwick. 203

Be Guy hir sone Reynebroune, as thai I rede,

The next morowe endwed with wrtwe,

Lyche a pylgryme chaunged hath his wede

And spedd hym fforthe for loue of Cryst Ih[es]u. 192

Fol. viiJ. 25 Fforsoke the world, vnknowen of eu^ry wyght,
Of p^rffeccon to leve in penaunce,
Lefft wyffe & kyn, be-came so Goddes knyght,
Whome ffor to serve was sette alle his plesauwce ; 196

Content -with litill (Cryst was his suffyssiau/zce)
In worldly wellthe hym list no more soio#rne.
Callyng ageyne nowe to remembraunce
To Ethelston my penne I will retowrne, 200

26 Ryght as I ffyrst gan to precede,

Off his compleynt to make cler^ mencyoun.

Not cladde in p«rpull, — chaunged hathe his wede,

Blacke ffor mornyng & desolacyoun, 204

7/&is was the cause, in alle his regyoun

Was ffounde no man his quarell to diffend, —

To god above he seyd this orysoune

Be-spreynt w/tA teeris some grace hym to sende. 208

27 " O lord," quod he, " of most magnificenc,
Enclyne thyn erys to my prayere :
Remembre not, lord, my gret offence,

Ffrome alle my synnys Mou towrne awey my chere. 212

I dispeyred stonde in double were

To lese my reaume, cepture, & regalye,

But medyacyon of thy moder den?

Be benygne, lord, to save my prayere. 216

28 " My ffeythe, my hope, my truste, myn affyaunce
Alle holly restist in thy pr^teccioun :

Shelde & sheltrou«, my swerd & eke my launce

Alle blonte & ffeble,my ffortune is bor^ downe. 220

Saue grace & mercy I haue no chaumpyoun :

But thou supporte, my ffone shall me encombre."

While Ethelston seyd this his orysoune,

Hym alle vnwist he ffell in slepe & slombre, 224

204 F. N. Robinson.

Fol. viii a. 29 Ffor wacche ande thoughte lay in an agonye
Knelyng devoutly be-syde his bedd^y syde.
7V/e lorde above, whiche can no man denye,
77/at askyth grace & is devoyde of pryde, 228

Ffor his s*?rvau;/t list gracyously to pr0vyde ;
Sent an aungell Ethelston to recounforte
Be-twene midnyght & the morowe tyde ;
Spake to the kynge as I cane me reporte — 232

30 " I, Godd^-y aungell, sent ffrome hevenly kynge
Ffor to releesse thyn hevy p<?rturbaunce,
Whether thou slepe or that thou be wakyng, —

God hath resceyued thy pnzyen? & penaunce, 236

T^yne pytous wepyng & alle thyn olde greuau«ce

Shall hastly chaunge to ioy & to pleasaunce.

Ne drede the not, but haue thou in remembraunce,

As I to the shall no we here expresse. 240

31 " Ffrome the to avoyde all despeyre & drede,
Whan thz.\. Aurora shewith hir pale lyght,
Eorly to-moro\ve a-ryse & take goode hede ;

Ffor Cryst Ihesus of his gracyous myght 244

To thy request haue cast adowne his syght.

Truste well in hym & in thyn hope be stable :

He will conserve of equite & of ryght

Thy ryall tytle, he is so mercyable. 248

32 " At the sonne vpryst (ne sette no lenger date),
Whan silver dewe doyth on the ffloures swete,
Make thy passage vn-to the northegate,

Or Mat the. sonne with his fferuent hete 252

On leve & herbe hath dryed vp the hete.

Mekely Mer byde, & god will to the send

Amonges the pourc? a pylgryme Mou shalt mete :

Entrete ///ou hym thy quarell to dyffende. 256

Fol. viii B. 33 " Symply arayed in a rowe sclaveyne,

Olde & ffor-growe amonge the pouraille,

Thou merke hym well, & be thou fful certayne

At thy request ///at he shall not ffayle 260

On Two Manuscripts of Lydgate's Guy of Warwick. 205

Ffor to accomplisshe manly thy bataille.

Trust on hym well ffor thy pwrpartye ;

W/t^ myght of god he shalle the ther pr^vaille,

In this mater thyn axing not denye." 264

34 Whan Phebus bryght wz't/z his golden beemys
On hilles hye gan shewe his hevenly lyght,
Eorly on morne wz't^: his'fferuent stremys

Dryed vp the dewe as silver perlys bryght, 268

And that Guy, th-&\. noble {famous knyght,

Repayred was ffrome his pylgrymage,

Ffrome Portysmouth he toke his way ryght ;

Vnto Wynchestr^ strayte he held his vyage. 272

35 By the grace of God, I deeme hit trwly,
Guy was hoome sente in-to his regyoun
Her to acomplisshe in knyghthod ffynally

The last enpryse of his hye rennoun, 276

Here ffor to be the kynges chaumpyoun,

Vnknowen of alle. But, whan he came to lande,

To hym was made pleyne relacyoun

Of his requests, ho we /^at hit did stonde. 280

36 He tolde the kynge in ordre seryously,
Herauld of Arderne, /Aat was so goode a knyght,
Was goone to seche Reynebroune, the sone of Guy,

Gretly desyred of euery man^r wyght, 284

Which be discent was borne of verry ryght

Be cleyme of Ffelice clene of womanhed,

At his repeyre w/t/z grace of Oyster myght

T^eorldame of Warrewik ioustly to possede. 288

Fol. ixrt. 37 Men tolde eke Guy of the dredefull stryff

Be-tweene the Danys & Ethelston the kynge,

And howe Rohauld //*at was ffader to Guys wyffe,

77ze olde eorlle notable of levyng, 292

Was ded also ; & Guy herde eu^ry thynge,

Of hye prudence kepte hym-selfe ffull cloose :

Lyche a pylgryme his leve ther takynge

To Wynchestr^ gooyth anoon, as he roose. 296

206 f.N. fiobinson.

38 He toke his herboroughe, whan hit droughe to nyght,
Wrt/* pouiv men ther at an olde hospytall,

Wery of travel!, whan hit droughe to nyght,

Twoo hundred passe & ffyffty ffrome Me walle, 300

Wher standyth nowe a mynster ffull ryall.

The next morowe, anoon as Guy awoke,

(God guyded hym ther in especyall),

With oMer poun? the ryght wey he toke 304

39 To the northe gate, as grace did hym guye,
Be resemblaunce so entryng in-to the towne,
As Dauid whylome came a-geynst Golye

To helpe Saule by grace of God sent downe, — 308

So for reffuge & ffor saluacyoune

BoMe of the kynge & of all Mis lande

Guy was pr^vyded to be Mer champyoune

Agenst the Danys & ffuryous Colbronde, — 312

40 BoMe be his habyt & his pylgryme wede,
ThQ eclade vtitA a rowe sclaveyne ;

Of whos aray when the kynge toke hede,

Saughe Goddes be-hest was not made in veyne ; 316

He toke gode hede & knewe well ffor certayne,

God ffaylyth not his ffrend in see nor lande.

With wepyng teeris his chek<?.y spreynt as reyne,

Of hye gladnesse toke Guy be the hande, 320

Fol.ixJ. 41 Requeryng hym in the most lowley wyse

With sobbyng cheere, Mat ruwthe was to se,

To vnd^rfonge the dredfull empryse

ffor Godd^j sake & mercyfull pytee, 324

To doone soucour in Mat nescessite,

In his deffence Mat he will not ffayle

Ageynst Colbronde his champyoune to be,

Ffor his partye to derrain this batayle. 328

42 Guy wondn? sadde of looke & of vysage,
Ffeynte & wery, ffull dulled of his traveyll,
Made his excuse Mat he was ffallen in age,
Longe oute of vse to were plate or mayle. 332

On Two Manuscripts of Lydgate's Guy of Warwick. 207

" My wille," <\uod Guy, " if hit may pr^vaylle

The. cruwell yre of Danys ffor to peese,

To the comoune goode my s^rvyce shall not fayle,

My lyffe in luparde this lande to sette in ease." 336

43 The kynge, the lordes made gret instaunce
To this pilgryme with langage & prayers,
And he most mekely doo the kynge plesaunce,

Ffor Ihesus sake & ffor his moder dere, 340

He condiscendid, lyche as ye shall here,

WYt# Goddes grace aftler the covenaunt,

As the convencion ioustely dooyth appere,

Place assigned to mete with the geaunte. 344

44 Off ///is empryse was made no longe delaye,
T^eise covenauntes pleynely to derraine
The tyme essett of luyll the xij day,

The place assigned betweene hem tvveyne, 348

/^accord rehersed, the statuyt & the peyne,

Alle doublenesse & ffraude esett a-syde,

The partyes bounden vnder a surtee pleyne

(In conclusyoun) ther-to assent & byde. 352

Fol. x a. 45 With-oute the. gate, remembred as I rede,
The place called of olde antiquytee,
In our tonge named the Hyde Mede,

Or elles Denmarche vnd^r that citee, 356

T^ey assembled : ther men myght well see
Terryble stroke like the dynte of thondre,
Sparklis of ffuyn? oute of theyr harneys fflee,
T^at to be-holde hit was verray wondre. 360

46 The vnkouthe pylgryme aqwytt hym lyche a knyght ;
He sparid not the geaunde ffor to assaylle,
On whos liffte should^ he smote wz't^ suche myght
Vnder the bourdoure of his ventayle 364

7#at streme of blode gan be his sydes rayle.
The geaunt wode ///er-with, this seid Colbronde,
Ffor to ben venged ne cast hym not to ffayle ;
Brake Guys swerd on tweyne out of his hande. 368

208 F. N. Jtobinson.

47 Whane Me Danys saughe Mat Guy had lost his swerd,
7/4ey caught Mer-by gret consolacyoun.

77/oughe he wer stonyed, yit was he not afferd,

Requyred knyghtly of the champyoune, 372

Syth Mat he hade of weponys suche ffoysoun,

To grant hym oon Mat hour* in his diffence.

But of ffals ire & indignacyoun

To his request he gave noon audyence. 376

48 He was hole sett on malyce & on wrake,
Ffor to be vengid of verray ffrowafd pryde ;
& whiles Mat he & Guy to-geder spake,

T^ane alle atones Guy sterte out asyde, 380

He caught a pollax, & list noon lenger abyde.

Of knyghtly prowes, Me geaunt to confounde,

He made his stroke so myghtly to glyde,

T^at his leffte arome & should^ ffell to grounde. 384

49 With the whiche stroke Me geaunt Colbronde
Alle his harneys & armun? was made rede.
Stoupyng a-syde he raught out his hande

To take a swerd, wher-of Guy toke hede, — 388

Fol. x b. God ffortuned hym Mat day to haue suche spede

To putte his name eu<?r affter in memorye, —
Wit/i stroke of axe smot of the geauntey hede,
Called Colbrond, & had of hym victorye. 392

50 This bataille wonne be grace of Godd^-r hande
& be the manhode of this noble knyght,
They of Denmarke, as the covenauntej bonde,

Had crossed saylle & toke Mer way ryght 396

To-ward<?j theyre land, neyM^r gladde nor lyght,

T^eyr surquyde & Meyr pompe oppressid.

Kynge Ethelston thus be Crystes myght

In wele recured as is to-ffor exppr<?ssid, 400

51 And eke the pryde of Danys sore oppressed
Be Guy of Warrewik, as made is mencyoun,
7%e kynge Me clergy devoutely hem dressid,

Prync<?j & barouws & burgeys of the towne 404

On Two Manuscripts of Lydgate's Guy of Warwick. 209

In oon assembled of pure devocyoun,

Boothe hye & lowe, to speke in generall,

Guy to conveye with Meyr pr^cessyoun

Vnto Meyr mynstr^ & chyrche cathedrall. 408

52 T/tis noble knyght Mer knelyng on his kne
With gret mekenes made his oblacyoune

Of Mat same axe, with whiche afforne Mat he

Had of Denmarke slayne Mer her champyoune ; 412

Whiche wepon yit thoroughe alle Mzs regyoune,

Yit is hit called the axe of gret Colbronde

And kept amonge men of relygyoune

In theyr vestiarye, I vnd^stonde. 416

53 Whane alle was doone (ther is no more to seyne),
Guy in alle hast cast of his armure,

& lyche a pylgryme clothed hym with sclaveyne.

Kynge Ethelston did his besy cure, 420

7%at he myght Me grace so recurs

Of this pilgryme to tell hym & not to spare,

In secret wyse to shewe his aventure,

His name to hym pleynely ffor to declare. 424

Fol. xi a. 54 " My lorde," quod he, " ye most haue me excused
Touchyng Mis axing or petiscyoun :
Ne be not besy ne lett no more be mused
In yo»r desyre ffor noon occasyoune 428

(To myn excused I haue ffull gret raysoune) ;
Ffor I shall neu<?r descure this matere,
But vnder bonde of this condiscyoune,
Of assuraunce be you & me in ffeere : 432

55 Alle your prynces avoyded be absence,
Sole be youre selfe oute of this citee,
Noon but we twoo beyng in presence,

Wz't^ troughthe ensured ye shall kepe secree 436

Duryng my lyffe (ye gete no mor of me)
To no p<?rsone (I axe no mor avayle)
Of ffeyth & ooth, to hye nor lowe degree

ye shall neu<?r discure my counseylle." 440

210 F. N. fiobinson.

56 This thynge ensured by prvmyse & vrordes ryall,
They passed the bounds & subbarbis of Me towne,
Out at a crosse Mat stode ffer ffro the walle

Ffull konyngly the pylgryme knelid adowne 444

To sette a-syde alle menys susspecyoun.

" My lorde," quod he, " of ffeythe w/t^-oute blame

Your* liegeman of humble affeccyoun

Guy of Warrewik, sere, trwuly is my name." 448

57 The kynge astonyed chert & fface

And in mzner wepped ffor gret gladnesse,

Than all at oones he gan hym to embrace

In bothe his harmys of ryall gentillesse, 452

With honde in honde of ffeythefull kyndenesse

Gret pr^fres made on Mat oMer syde

Of golde & tresoun? & muche rychesse,

Wit-inne his paleys if he wold abyde. 456

Fol. xi b. 58 But alle these proffres Guy clene for-soke, *
And vnto the kynges ryall magestee
With recomandyng anoon his wey he toke ;
And pytous knelyng on his knee 460

At Mat departing Mis avowe made he :
Duryng Guys lyffe hit wille noon oMer be,
He should neuer wer oMer garment,

Till Inmi Cryste of mercy & pytee 464

Here in this eorMe hathe ffor his soule sent.

59 At Meyr departyng was smale langage :
7/fceyr hevynesse made Mint?rupcyoun.

The kynge gooith hoome, Guy toke his vyage

Toward Warrewik, his castell & his towne, 469

No wyght of hym hauyng susspecyoune,

Wher day be day Ffelyce, his trwe wyffe,

Ffedde pour* ffolke of great devocyoun

To pray ffor her & ffor his lord<?j lyffe, 473

60 Xiij in noumbre, my auctowr tellith soo.
Guy at his comyng, fforgrowen is his vysage,
Be thre days space he was oon of thoo

7!#at toke almesse with humble & lowe courage ; 477

On Two Manuscripts of Lydgate's Guy of Warwick. 211

Thankyng the countasse made Man his vyage ;

Not ffer ffro thens, the cronnycle dooyth expresse,

Of aventim? came to an hermytage,

Wher he ffonde oon dwellyng in wyldernesse, 491

61 To whome he droughe, besechyng hym of grace
As ffor a tyme to holde with hym soio^r.

The same hermyte with-inne a litill space

Be deth is paste the ende of his labour ; 495

Affter whome Guy was the sucssesoure

Space of twoo yere be grace of Cryst Ihmi

Dauntyng his fflesshe be penaunce & rygoure,

Ay mor & mor encressyng in wrtwe. 499

62 God made hym knovve Me day Mat he shuld dye
Thoroughe his gracyous vysytacyoun,

Be an aungell, his spyryt to conveye

Fol. xii a. Affter his body resolucyoune 503

Ffor whos merytej to the hevenly mansyoun.
7%an in alle hast he send his weddyng rynge
Vn-to his wyffe of truwe affeccyoun,
Prayed hir to come & be at his endyng, 507

63 7%at she should done ther hir besy cure,
As by a man^r of wyffly dilygence,

In hast for to ordeyne ffor his cepultun?

With no gret coste nor no gret reu^rence. 511

She hastid hir til she came in presence,

Wher Mat Guy lay dedly pale of fface,

Bespreynt \vii/i terys knelyng wz'tA reuerence

Tht ded body Ffelyce did Mer enbrace.

64 TMs notable & ffamous worthy knyght
Sent hir to seyne be his messagiere

In Mat place to bury hym anoon ryght,

Wher Mat he lay to-ffor a smale awten?, 519

And affter Mis doo truwly hir devyere

71#er ffor hir selfe disposen & pwvyde

xv dayes ffylowing the same yen?,

She to be buryed Mer be Guyes syde. 523

212 F. N. Robinson.

65 His holy wyffe of alle this toke goode hede,
Lyke as he badde, & list noon lenger tarye
To acquyte hir-selfe of wyffely womanhed,

Ffor she was lothe ffro his desyre to varye ; 527

Sent in alle haste ffor Me ordynarye,

Whiche ocupyed in Mat dyocyse ;

She was not ffounde in oon poynte contrarye

Eche thynge to accomplysshe, as ye haue herd devyse. 531

66 And alle this coronycle ffor to conclude :

At whos exequyes bothe olde & yonge of age
Of dyu^rs ffolke came gret multytude,

W/'t/i gret devocyoun to Mat heremytage, 535

Eche a prynce witA alle Me surplusage
T/tey toke hym vp & leyde hym in his grave,
Fol. xii 6. Ordeyned of God be marcyall courage

Ageynst the Danoys Mis regyoun to save ; 539

67 Whos soule I truste restith nowe in glorye
With holy spyryte.? above the ffyrmament.
Ffelyce his wyffe callyng to hir memorye

The. day gan neyghe of hir enterment, 543

To-fforne pr^vyded of in hir testament

Reynebroune than eyere ioustely to succede,

Be title of hir & lynyall discent

The eorlldame of Warrewik ioustely to possede, 547

68 The stocke discendyng downe be the pedugree
To Guy his ffader be tytle of maryage,
Affter whos deeth of lawe & equytee

Reynebroune to enire in-to his herytage ; 551

Claymyng his ryght his moder of goode age

Hathe yolden hir dette be dethe vn-to nature,

Be-syde hir lorde in Mat hermytage

Whiche ended ffayr & made was hir cepultun?. 555

69 Ffor to auctoryse better Mis mater,
Whos translacyon shewith Me sentence
Oute of Latyne made be the cronyclen?

Called of olde Gerard Cornubyence, 559

On Two Manuscripts of Lydgate's Guy of Warwick. 213

Whiche whilome wrote wz't# gret dilygence

Deck?.y of hem in Westsex corouned kyng^r,

Gretly comendyng of knyghtly excellence

Guy of Warrewike, in whos ffamous wryting<?j, 563

70 Of whos nobles ffull gret hede he toke

His knyghtly ffame to putten in reme;#brau«ce

The xj chapiter of his historyall boke —

The p^rfyte lyffe, the v^rtuows gouernaunce, 567

His willfull pouert, hard lyggyng, & penaunce

Alle sent to me in Englisshe to translate :

If ought be wronge in metre or substaunce

Putte alle the wyght of dullenesse of Lydegate. 571

LENVOYE.

Mekely translatid vnder coreccyouw,
Settynge a syde pryde & pr^sumpcyou«,
And pray iche oon Mat shall off hit take hede,
Ffauour & support whan th&y [hit rede.]

NOTES.

( The references are to line numbers!)
GENERAL NOTE.

Shirley's contractions are usually easy to deal with, but his r's and gs have
given me some trouble. Participles and verbal nouns in -ing always appear with
a final nourish (cf. facsimile, fol. iob, knelyng, 1. 21), which may represent a final e.
In only one case (lakynge, 1. 295) is a final e written out in words of this class, and
I have therefore disregarded the flourish in printing. Other words in final ng,
even when not etymologically entitled to a final e, get one regularly. But this is
always written out, and never represented by the nourish (cf. facsimile, fol. iob,
kynge, 1. 15; amonge, 1. 27, etc.).

In the case of r I have adopted the rule of printing re for long r with a hook
(cf. facsimile, last 5 lines, cure, recure, spare, aventure, declare) and r for short r
with a similar hook (cf. facsimile, 1. 24 her, 1. 29 f/ier, 1. Tfaffor). In a few cases
the short r occurs where forms in re would be expected (cf. maner, 1. 103 ; bor,
1. 220 ; mor, 11. 437, 438), but the hook usually seems to mean nothing. Long r
with the hook, on the contrary, always represents re.

214 P. N. Jtobinson.

1-4. Rectangular space left for illuminator, but occupied only by a rather
minute^!

n. m of myghtty very much faded but unmistakable.

1 5. Supplied from Z. No break in MS. The following line is supplied in
the margin in a later hand : without all mercy they frett & frown.

24. MS. lord. Z. has flry nets.

34. Tail of ff makes r.

49. MS. faded.

54. in written above e of alle in same hand and ink.

57. by supplied from Z.

63. palpable. Second / corrected from /.

74. The MS. seems to have whettes. Cf., however, the same stroke on but
in 1. 278.

87. to cast. The letter after s is not clear. Z. has to caste.
107. Perhaps settes. But the abbreviation for es is very faint and looks like a
mere flourish. It appears again in shalt, 1. 255.
135. ben. n is blotted.
164. Supplied from Z. No break in MS.

208. g was written before teen's and afterwards scratched out with a pen.
213. Before were stands written werre, which is dotted for erasure.
233. Stanza 30 is not in Z. See p. 195, above.

264. After Shirley's stanza 33 there follow in Z. three stanzas which are not in
Shirley. See p. 195, above.

348. assig ned. A letter blotted out (e ?) between g and n.
356. Before citee stands walle crossed out and dotted for expunging.
376. request, e over u in same hand.
427. more, e is blotted.

442. Two letters (sn ?) blotted out before subbarbis.
457. Stanza 58 has 9 lines in Harv., 8 in Z.
473. his MS. Z. has Air, which is obviously right.

572. The envoy appears as stanza 74 in Z. and contains the full 8 lines. In
Harv. it is written in 2 long lines and shows no traces of the words in brackets.

LIST OF VARIATIONS FROM ZUPITZA'S TEXT IN THE
LEYDEN MS.

r. berth, complect, hundrid. — 2. twynty & sevyn. — 3. Ethelston.
cronycler. — 4. rynyng. Brutus. — 5. persecuciouw. — 6. thym. mythtyhond.

— 7. rood brent, mad non. — 8. creuel fors. thoruht out all thys. — 9. sparid
nouthyr heyh. — 10. cherchis collagis. thy beet (sic !). — 1 1. mythty castellis
& eu^ry gret cite. — 12. furye. falce. — 13. vn to the bondis. Wynchester.

— 14. swerde £ ffyr. mad all. wylle (sic !). — 15. mortall. p*rsecusiou».

On Two Manuscripts of LydgatJs Guy of Warwick. 215

— 1 6. sparid not. gret. clyde (sic !). — 17. and omitted, furious creu-
elte. — 1 8. too. prynces. &. — 19. lyke wood, voyd of all pete. — 20.
dide. fauor. lowe nor hey estat. — 21. stod. disconsolat. — 22. dis-
deyne. — 23. & Marcury. debat. — 24. both the. & princes, constreyned.

— 25. fliht. — 26. pr/nces. agayn. — 27. hyllis. fyres. such lyht. —
28. Such disioynt. — 29. robbid & spoyled. thyr. — 30. ffor. dred.
&. — 31. off. — 32. lyke. river, the. — 33. For som olde trespas. —
34. antiquite. — 35. oo. fortune &. — 36. myht. cronyclis. — 37. the
myghty famos. — 38. days, batayle. — 39. thefte off. mad isrl to flee.

— 40. feld. &. fayle. — 41. bi. pride. ambuciou#. — 42. furye.
theis pr/ncis twyne. — 43. distroucciouw. — 44. them disdeyn. so
omitted. — 45. werne. the porrall. compleyn. — 46. terantis. Aneliphus.

— 47. and as my autor remembrith in certyn. — 48. the thoder. so
(before named). Cenaphelus. — 49. mescheff. pestilense (perhaps
pestelense). — 50. punysshyng. fond merciable. — 51. swerd. tirau«t.
punyssheth. violence. — 52. furious hond mortal &. — 53. wer folke re-
pent.— 54. sitt abouyn which, hand. — 55. theis tirau«tis. shedyn blod.

— 56. sword &. troublid. lond. — 57. for. bi. screptour. — 58. hat
chastisid. gret Cite. — 59. suffrid. mescheff. endur. — 60. record Jerlm
recorde on Nynyue. — 61. Parys. ffrance hat. payd (for parde). — 62.
lechery, falce ambuciou#. — 63. at eye examplis. — 64. off. Troye. —
65. ofte. hat ben examplefied. — 66. ffor. wysdam. &. god consail. —
67. that peples hertis werr not ful applyed. — 68. swe. avayle. — 69.
blowith not. sayle. — 70. ffor. demeritis. punysshid thym. riht. — 71.
&. hat vengance. hys tayle. — 72. thou. Ethelston. knyht. — 73. cruel.
Ynglissh blod to sheed. — 74. whet & ther fyris lyht. — 75. yit. cronyclis.
leyseer who so lyst reed. — 76. Ethelston. knyht. — 77. thouh. enclep-
sid was his his (sic !) lyth. — 78. off. & roiall. — 79. good stood allweye.
myht. — 80. chau#g. troble. prosperity. — 81. showres. — 82. glad, fol-
with. derke nyht. — 83. wenter comyht. fressh flouris. — 84. after
mystis. shynth briht. — 85. after gret troble hertis ben mad lyht. — 86.
conclud lyke. — 87. cast, merciable siht. — 88. vpon. knyht. for-seyd
Ethelston. — 89. ferther. — 90. wer &. adu^rsite. — 91. mad. cronyclis.
reed. — 92. all. heyh & lowe. — 93. haue. consail. Wenchestre. Cite.

— 94. remydye. hast, provide. — 95. agyn. males & furious creuelte.

— 96. be (prepos.~). merciall. — 97. gadrid werre. statis. — 98. remedy,
shapyn. mater. — 99. pr/ncis. bisshopis. prelatis.

100. Cite assemled wer in fere. — 101. fortune shewyd. cher. — 102.
turnyd disisperans. to omitted ' . — 103. knyhthood of armys. maner. —
104. destitut. wer. sper & lance. — 105. remedie. — 106. redresse to fynd

216 F. N. Robinson.

no consolacioun. — 107. al. cheualrye. — 108. desolaciou«. — 109. bi. —
1 10. Ethelston. in constrente & distres. — in. consel. the touw. — 112.
to fynd a mene hys mescheff to redres. — 113. Bi. amendid. — 114. recur,
fynde. aduersite. — 115. brefly. thei. condissendid. — 116. benbassatrye.
sume tretey. — 117. streihtly dreuyn of nessecite. — 118. Denmarke.
omage. qweme. — 119. vndir tribut. haue. — 120. soget reioisshe. dia-
deme. — 121. partyis bi couenau«t. — 122. Ethelston. fynd. knyht.—
123. Colibrond. — 124. a day assynede. fyth. — 125. atwyn. too. ryht.
— 126. shall reioisshe. myhty. — 127. hoold. ceptur be manhod & bi
myht. — 128. haue posseciou#. quiet, lond. — 130. respite, long, dela-
ciou«. — 131. yef answer, fynal. — 132. qwyten. — 133. outhir. resigna-
ciouw. — 134. off sceptur &. outhir. fynde. knyht. — 135. seyd. — 136.
Colibrond. entren. ffyht. — 137. males. — 138. wood, willful, marcial.

— 139. In other wyse list not to be. — 140. requerid. hast benbasset. —
141. answer. — 142. off the. send. — 143. cast. put. — 144. lyfe. twyne.

— 145. streyhtly. lede. — 146. off furious hast. haue. delaye. — 147.
Ethylston. bestade. — 148. all. prmcis. afray. — 149. affor Wenchester.
proud dukys laye. — 150. withyne. mynde. — 151. wyll the. bi cause,
kneuh. waye. — 152. defences, fynd. — 153. bettr^. mater. — 154. re-
dresse. fynde. acordyng. — 155. be assent, take, prayer. — 156. &
(before his), fastyng. — 157. &. without. — 158. all atonys. as thy (sic !)
wer of. — 159. wyth. resemblid. — 160. penance. Nynyve. — 161. ffrom
hih estatis. povrale. — 162. all degres fonde. wyht. — 163. vnderfonge.

— 164. agayn. Geauwt. for to fiht. — 165. heralde of herderne the. —
1 66. cald. — 167. harmys. euery mannys siht. — 168. Nyxte. of manhod
lodissesterre. — 169. The seyd. absente. — 170. rewem. son. — 171.
raynborn. contres adiacent. — 172. all the pwvynce. stod fast bye. —
173. traytourely. — 174. be strang marchandis vngodly. — 175. ffelice.
modir. — 176. complynyng. &. — 177. Borne bi discent. beyn his faders.
— 178. her yong son raynborn. — 179. her. hold, man (sic!), fayr. —
180. thexample. & womanhed. — 181. her fadir. nobles & manhod.—
182. Erie. on. best. — 183. days, stori. rede. — 184. alas. — 185.
Pay. bi deth vn to natur. — 186. by parcas. lyvis thred. — 187. stori
remembrith bi scriptur. — 188. felice conceyued had in dede. — 189. bi-
seyd. after, rede. — 190. he omitted, lyke. pilgrem enduyd. verteu.

— 191. changid hat his wede. — 192. sped. loue. — 193. ffor sok. vn-
knowe of eu^y wyht. — 194. heyh p^rfecciou». levyn. penance. — 195.
wyfe & kyne & be cam. knyht. — 196. for omitted. — 197. litel. suffi-
sauwce. — 198. werdly (sic !). list, soiorne. — 199. agayn vn to remem-
brans. **

On Two Manuscripts of Lydgate's Guy of Warwick. 217

200. Ethelston6. woll. — 201. begane. precede. — 202. off. conplynt.
menciouw. — 203. nat. purple, changid hat. wede. — 204. desolacioun.

— 205. by cause ther. regiou«. — 206. ffonde. quarel. defend. — 207.
abovyn seid. Orisou#. — 208. send. — 209. most magnyficence. — 210.
eris vn to. prayer. — 211. remembriht. vpon. gret affence. — 212. fro;;z.
synnys. cher. — 213. dispeyred stondyng. double werre. — 214. kyng-
douw. — 215. mediaciou«. thi modir dere. — 217. my hope, my affiauwce.

— 218. thi prtftecciouw. — 219. sheld. swerd & ek. lance. — 220. &.
pore. — 221. merci. — 222. thoruht thi supporte. foo. — 223. whil Ethel-
ston seyd. orisou«. — 224. fel. — 225. ffor. & treble. — 226. beddis. —
227. abouyn which, devye. — 228. mekenesse. — 229. ffor. seruant list
graciously. — 230. godnesse sent, angil. — 231. him not drede. sette all
ferre on side. — 232. which, merci. hard, orison. — 233. lok benyng.

— 234. him trist all holy. — 235. bi. token, entirsyng. — 236. shall, shwed.
spas. — 237. adavvid. lifft. face. — 238. markith eu^ry. &. hed. — 239.
angil. heuynesse. to enchas. — 240. thes. stori. rede. — 241. ffrom.
void all dispayre and drede. — 242. her. liht. — 243. morwe. rys. hed.

— 244. ffor. gracious myht. — 245. thi request hat. sith. — 246. vp-on.
&. thi. — 247. construe. & riht. — 248. title for. is merciable. — 249.
vp rest {perhaps vp rast). — 250. deuh. flowris flete. — 251. thi. — 252.
fervent hete. — 253. hat. levis dried vp. wete. — 254. abyd ther mekly
& shall to the send, (god omitted.') — 255. ffirst. pilgrem. mete. — 256.
godly thi quarel. defend. — 257. brod slaveyn.— 258. olde. among, pov-
raile. — 259. mark. wyl. &. wyl certeyn. — 260. thi request, shal not fayle.
— 261. acomplissh. batayle. — 262. wyll. &. thi. — 263. shal pr^vaile. —
264. axyng. denyne (devyne changed to denye?). — 265. wordis seyd. is
reherside herre. — 266. vn to. revolucion. — 267. angl dide vnwarly disapere.

— 268. Ethelston. gret devociou«. — 269. of. awysiou#. — 270. newly
reioisshid. heuynesse. — 271. as omitted, mad is mencknw 272. tweyn.

— 273. benyng. — 274. affecciouw. — 275. erlis expectant. — 276. thylke. —
277. lyke. angl. — 278. vn to. — 279. pore folk for sustentaciou«. — 280.
had. custom, attegate. — 281. breeflydoht. — 282. vn to. makyth rehersayle.

— 283. off Jhon Baptist aforne. vigile. — 284. Warwyk mad. arivayle.

— 285. Portismowth. autor wyll not fayle. — 286. &. — 287. which,
avayle. — 288. tellit. evyn. prime. — 289. brihte. tressir (?). — 290.
hyh. showe. heuynly lyht. — 291. morne &. hote. — 292. dryed vp. syl-
uer brih t. — 293. seyd. knyht. — 294. repayred. pilgrymage. — 295. ffro
portismouth. way riht. — 296. Winchester, viage. — 297. deme. — 298.
this regiou«. — 299. heer taccomplissh. knyhthood fynally.

300. emprise. — 301. for. ben. kyngis. — 302. vnknowe off all. com.

2i8 F. N. Robinson.

land. — 303. made, relacion. — 304. off. dede stonde. — 305. ffrist.
ordure ceriously. — 306. of omitted. — 307. gon. Raynbourne omitted.
sonne. — 308. desyred. eu^ry. wiht. — 309. which bi descent, borne,
riht. — 310. title. ffelice. womanhed. — 311. repayre. myht. — 312.
Erie. Warwyk. — 313. gret striff. — 314. tvvyn. Denmarke & Ethilston
the. — 315. fadir. wyfe. — 316. olde Erie. Warwyk. lyvyng. — 317.
dede. &. hard Query. — 318. off. self closse. — 319. lyke. pilgrem.
leue ther. — 320. wynchester anon, arros. — 322. poore. ospitall. — 323.
travaill vnknow. euery wiht. — 324. hou«drid. without. — 325. Wher
stondith. — 326. anon. — 327. his hie (?) guyd. especiall. — 328. waye.
toke. — 330. bi resemblance. — 331. can agayn. — 332. bi. — 333.
So. refuge, for sauaciouw. — 334. Both. &. all. — 336. of. Colibrond.

— 337. Bi. pilgrem wede. — 338. rouwde slaven. — 339. off. aray. tok
hed. — 340. primes, not mad. — 341. vp. hart & kneuh. well certeyn.

— 342. faylith neuer. se nor on. — 343. chekys. — 344. ffor. gladnes.
be the. — 345. most lowly. — 346. cher. rowth. se. — 347. wnderfonge.
heh emprise. — 348. ffor goddis. merciful petye. — 349. nessecite. — 350.
In. defens. not fayle. — 351. Colibrond. for omitted. — 352. ffor. partey.
batayle. — 353. visage. — 354. &. dullyd. travayle. — 355. mad. excus.
— 356. mayle. — 357. wyll. yff I myht avayle. — 358. cruel Ire off the.
appese. — 359. proffyte god will shall not fayle. — 360. lyffe luperte. sett
this. — 361. lordis mad gret. — 362. pilgrem. & prayer. — 363. don vn
to. — 364. Jhu. &. modir dere. — 365. Is condiscendid. here. —
366. godis. covenawt. — 367. convenciou«. require. — 368. assyned. —
369. emprise, mad. — 370. the convenciouw. pleyly. darrayne. — 371.
s . . . ff (indistinct). Jul. vp on. twelthe. — 372. assygnyd &. metyng.
twyn. — 373. thaccord rehersyd. statut. — 374. doubilnesse & fraude sett
a seyde. — 375. partis, wer bondyn. certyn. — 377. Without, remem-
brid. rede. — 378. callid. antiquite. — 379. ynglissh tong. hide mede.

— 380. ferr. Cite. — 381. metyng to giddyr ther. myth. — 382. terrible
strokis lyke the dynt. thondir. — 383. sparklis out of ther harnes fley. —
384. behold, veray wondir. — 385. olde pilgrym. lyke. knyht. — 387. shuldir.
such a myht. — 388. vndir. bordur. aven entayle. — 389. strem. blod.
be. sydis rayle. — 390. the Geauwt this hedous Colibron. — 391. thouht.
shuld hym gretly availe. — 392. swerd. brokyn. — 393. swerde. — 394.
consolaciouw. — 395. like, knyht. hart, affrayed. — 396. required. —
397. wepens had. — 398. grant, on. of his defens. — 399. Colibrond.
indignacioiw.

400. request, non audiens. — 401. ffor. sett, males, wrake. — 402.
pride 403. wyle. &. togiddir. — 404. at onys. stert. on syde. — 405.

On Two Manuscripts of Lydgate's Guy of Warwick. 219

cauht. list. — 406. smot. Gyau«t euyn. first wond. — 408. harme & sholdir
fel. grond. — 409. wech. Colibrond. — 410. armur &. mad reede. —
411. rech. hand. — 412. swerd wer of. tok bed. — 413. God &. gaf.
swech. — 414. after. — 415. frley. the omitted, stordi. — 416. off. Geant
& had. victorye. — 417. accomplissht. bi. — 418. guy. knyht. — 419.
statut. — 420. seil. &. way riht. — 421. to warde. centre nouthir. lyth.

— 422. surquedye &. oppressid. — 423. Ethilston bi. goddis. — 424. had.
repressid. — 425. repr^ssid. — 426. bi. mad. — 427. han them dressid. —
428. prznces baronys & borgeys. — 430. spek. — 431. convye. pr^ces-
sioim. — 432. vn to the cherch callid. — 433. seyd. — 434. mekenes mad.
oblaciouw. — 435. ax. wych a forne. — 436. had. champiouw. — 437.
Insterment thoruh. regiouw. — 438. Is yet. ax. Colibron. — 439. relig-
iouw. — 440. shal vndirstond. — 441. don. sey. — 442. cast. his. — 443.
like, pilgrem. slauen. — 444- the kyng ful goodly dede hysse cure. —
445. myht. — 446. off the pilgrem. & not. — 447. secret, aventure (?).

— 449. Certis qd. excusid. — 450. axyng. peticiouw. — 451. &. musyd.

— 452. desyre. non. — 453. my excus. haue. gret. — 454. ffor. shall
neu^r discure. mater. — 455. ondir. condiciou«. — 456. assurans mad
betwyn you . . . (torn*). — 457. all. prnices. be absens. — 458. by. selfe.
Cite. — 459. non. twyne. pr^sens. — 460. trowth. ^al. secret. — 461.

lyff. get. — 462. ax. availe 463. off feyth &. or lowh. — 464. neuer

discur (?). consayle. — 465. confermyd bi promys. roial. — 466. passid
the bondis of subbarbis of the tou«. — 467. crosse. stod fer from, walle.

— 468. fful devouly (sic !). pilgrem knelyt. — 469. sett. suspeciou«. —
470. qd. feyth with out. — 471. legeman. affeciou//. — 472. Warwik. —
473. astonyd. chang cheer &. — 475. allattonys. enbrasse. — 476. both
his harmys. roial gentilice. — 477. offtyn. f eyf ull kyndnesse. — 478. gret
prefers, todyr. — 479. & tresour of gret richesse. — 480. . . . (torn) in his
pales yef he wold abyde. — 481. all theys prefers mekely he for-soke. —
482. kyngis roiall. — 483. recomwandyng anon. weye. — 484. he made.

— 486. vn to. ful. — 487. lyff. non. be. — 488. Shal. neuer don. —
489. language. — 490. Swem off. mad interupciou«. — 491. tok. viage.

— 492. to ward, castel &. — 493. hauyng sospiciouw. — 494. ffelice.
wyffe. — 495. ffed pore folk, gret devociouw. — 496. pray, her & her
lordis lyffe. — 497. my autor wryteth. so omitted. — 498. at is comyng.
visage. — 499. dayis spas. on.

500. toke almes. & low. — 501. contes. hast tok. — 502. ferre from. —
503. auentur. come, armytage. — 504. were, dwillyng. wyldernes. —
506. ffor. hold ther soiorne. — 507. withyne. lytil spasse. — 508. bi.
passid. ffyne. labore. — 509. after. — 510. Spas off. crist Ihu. — 511.

220 F. N. Robinson.

penance &. — 512. &. encressyng. — 513. mad. know, shold dye. — 514.
thoruh. most gracious visitaciou«. — 515. by. angl his sperite. — 516.
bodily resoluciouw. — 517. for. meritys. heuenly. — 518. sent. hast. —
519. vn to. wyfe. affecciouw. — 520. prayed her come. be. dyeng. —
521. shold don her besi. — 522. Bi. wyffly deligens. — 523. hast ordeyn.

— 524. non. dispens. — 525. in heyd omitted. — 526. wher. &. face. —
527. besprent, reuerens. — 528. ded. ded (= did). — 529. noble fam-
ous, knyht. — 530. Sent her. eke bi. massanger. — 531. In. beryn.
anon riht. — 532. a forn. avter. — 533. shulde do. her dever. — 534. her
selfe dispose, provide. — 535. folwyng. yer. — 536. byn beried fast. —
537. ' holy wyff. tok hed. — 538. lyke. list, lynger tarie. — 539. quite
her selfe. trowth & womanhed. — 540. from, desyre. — 541. Sent, hast
for. ordynary. — 542. Whych ocupid. diocise. — 543. not fou«de. no.
contrary. — 544. all. taccomplissh. haue hard devise. — 545. breffly. —
546. exequies. &. — 547. off dyu^res statis. — 548. devociou». — 549.

like, prmce. all. — 550. vp. — 551. ordyned. afforne 552. agayn.

Danys. regiou#. — 553. I. glorie. — 554. holy sperites. firmament —
555. ffelice. wyff. callyd. — 556. her. — 557. afforne ordyned. ther.—
558. her son reynbourn bi title, her. — 559. borne bi lenyall dissent. —
560. ther Erldam. — 561. discendyng. antiquite. — 562. fadir bi title.—
563. after, det. & equite. — 564. reynborn. heritage. — 565. after all.
modyr. — 566. her det be. vn to. — 567. be side her lorde. — 568. mad
her. — 569. ffor. autorite. mater. — 570. Whos. sewht in sentens. —
571. mad be. cronycler. — 572. callid. olde. Gerard of Cornbbiens. —
573. which, wiht (= with), deligens. — 574. off. werne. crownyd. —
575. Gretly. Knyhtly excelens. — 576. Werwyk. wrytyng. — 577. Off.

toke. — 578. marcial. remembrance. — 579. historial 580. p^rfyth lyff.

gou^rnance. — 581. wilful pouert. & penance. — 582. brouht vn to. for
to. — 583. yeff ouht. meter, substance. — 584. putth. of lidgate. — 585.
vnder corecciou/z. — 586. lyff. syr. bi delygent. — 587. sett asyde pride.

— 588. bi cause, hade, cadens. — 589. neu^r flour. — 590. cam neu^r.

— 591. prayng ichon. fauour. — 592. disdyne. clausis. rede.

FRED N. ROBINSON.

THE LAY OF GUINGAMOR.

GUINGAMOR1 is well known to be one of the most pleasing
of the old Breton lays. We have unfortunately no external
evidence which allows us to state definitely the name of the author ;
but Gaston Paris unhesitatingly ascribes it to Marie de France,2 and
the subject, mode of treatment, and style of the poem seem to favor
that view.

The story in brief is as follows : Guingamor, the nephew and heir
of the king, and a favorite of all at court, remains at home one day
when his uncle goes out to hunt. The queen sees him playing chess
in the orchard, and, overcome by his beauty, summons him to her
chamber, and offers herself as his amie. The young man, however,
unwilling to dishonor his lord, indignantly repels her advances, and
leaves the room abruptly. The queen, fearing lest he may accuse
her to the king, takes the first opportunity to taunt all the knights of
the court with their unwillingness to undertake the hunting of a
certain wild boar3 — an adventure from which ten knights who had
previously essayed it had never returned. The taunt is aimed at
Guingamor, who at once determines to accept the challenge. He
begs his uncle for permission to take with him the latter's bracket,
chaceor, etc., and the king unwillingly gives his consent. The next
morning Guingamor starts off, escorted for some distance by a crowd
of people of all sorts, sad because they never expect to see him

1 First published by Gaston Paris as one of several Lais inedits in Romania,
VIII, 50 ff.

2 See La Litt.franf. au moyen age, 2d ed., § 55. Cf. Warnke, Marie de France
nnd die anonymen Lais, Coburg, 1892, pp. 16-18, who thinks that style and con-
tents suggest Marie as the author, but adds that the language is " zu eigenartig
gefarbt " to support this hypothesis : his previous examination of the lay hardly
bears out this statement.

8 On this boar and his possible connection with Arthur's boar-hunt, see
Ahlstrom, Studier i den fornfranska Lais-litteraturen (Upsala, 1892), p. 61, and
F. Lot, Rom., XXV, 590-1 ; cf. also Baist, Ztschr. f. rom. Phil., XVIII, 275, n. i.

222 William Henry Schofield.

again.1 While following the tracks of the white boar, he gets sep-
arated from his dogs and companions, crosses " la rivie're perilleuse,"
and visits a wonderful and apparently uninhabited castle, near which
he discovers a beautiful woman bathing in a fountain, with but one
maid as a companion. He gets possession of the lady's garments,
which she had left on the shore, after some parley becomes her ami,
and then goes with her to her castle, the one he had before visited,
now filled with gallant knights and fair ladies, where he finds the
ten knights who had previously undertaken the adventure. There
he passes three hundred years in what seem to him but three days.
He now concludes that he ought to return to his own home with the
king's bracket and the head of the boar ; but he promises the fee to
come back to her as soon as the anxieties of his friends are relieved.
She gives him permission to depart, but forbids his eating anything
while in his own land. He crosses the river, and, after a long jour-
ney, meets a woodcutter, who informs him that all concerning whom
he inquires are long dead. Guingamor tells his story and, leaving
the boar's head with the peasant, starts to return to the land of the
fee. Being hungry, he eats some wild apples, whereupon he is im-
mediately transformed into a shrivelled-up old man, and falls from
his horse. The woodcutter thinks him at the point of death ; but
two maidens come to his rescue, and bear him back gently to the
fee's country. The story of his life was told everywhere in Britain ;
but nothing more was ever heard of the knight.

This story was at once recognized by Paris as belonging to the
large class of tales concerning a mortal's visit to the other world —
a class of which there are good examples in Irish literature. The
Voyage of Bran may serve as an instance. This, according to Meyer,
" was originally written down in the seventh century." 2 It will be
seen to bear a striking resemblance to that part of Guingamor with
which we are now particularly concerned.

1 Just as Erec is accompanied when he goes to undertake the Joie de la Cort,
and Le Bel Inconnu when he sets out for Sinaudon.

2 Kuno Meyer, The Voyage of Bran, London, 1895, ^» xv'- As Meyer remarks,
Zimmer (Haupt'sZtar^r., XXXIII, 261) had already (cautiously) referred the work
to the same century.

The Lay of Guingamor. 223

Bran and his companions set out on a journey and come to the
Land of Women, where, overcome by the magic charm of the place,
they remain long in happy enjoyment, oblivious of their past. " It
seemed a year to them that they were there — it chanced to be many
years." ' At last " homesickness seized one of them, even Nechtan,
the son of Collbran. His kindred kept praying Bran that he should
go to Ireland with him. The woman said to them their going would
make them rue. However, they went, and the woman said that none
of them should touch the land, and that they should visit and take
with them the man whom they had left in the Island of Joy. Then
they went until they arrived at a gathering at Said Bran. The men
asked of them who it was came over the sea. Said Bran: 'I am
Bran, the son of Febal,' saith he. However, the other saith : 'We
do not know such a one, though the Voyage of Bran is in our ancient
stories.' The man leaps from them out of the coracle. As soon as
he touched the earth of Ireland, forthwith he was a heap of ashes,
as though he had been in the earth for many a hundred years. . . .
Thereupon to the people of the gathering Bran told all his wander-
ings from the beginning until that time. And he wrote these quat-
rains in Ogam and then bade them farewell. And from that hour
his wanderings are not known." (Caps. 63-66. )a

In the Bran story (as well as in the similar adventures of Connla
and Oisin) it is " actual contact between earth and the body of the
home-faring mortal " which puts into operation the forces of age and
decay suspended by his sojourn in the land of the immortals.8 In
Guingamor it is different. The fee, finding the hero determined to
test the truth of her startling assertion that his land is occupied by
strangers, accompanies him to the boundary of her territory, and
makes but one condition for his safe return, — that he partake of no
food or drink in the land of mortals. " If you forget this command,"
she says in effect, "tost en seriez engingniez" (570). Guingamor,
however, in a moment of thoughtlessness gives way to temptation.

1 Cap. 62, p. 30, ed. Meyer (whose translation I have used).

2 Other Irish stories of a similar character are conveniently summarized by
Nutt, The Happy Other-world in the My thico- Romantic Literature of the Irish, in
Meyer's Voyage of Bran, I, 115 ff. * See Nutt, I.e., p. 151.

224 William Henry Schofield.

Hardly has he eaten the wild apples by the wayside when he finds
himself in painful decrepitude. This is but another, though inverted,
instance of a well-known superstition. As Professor Child says,1
" That eating and drinking, personal contact, exchange of speech,
receiving of gifts, in any abode of unearthly beings, including the
dead, will reduce a man to their fellowship and condition might be
enforced by a great number of examples, and has already been abun-
dantly shown by Professor Wilhelm Miiller in his beautiful essay,
Zur Symbolik der deutschen Volkssage." 2

E. Philipot8 rightly considers the magic orchards in Erecy Le Bel
Inconnu, the Livre d'Artus, etc., as survivals of our theme. In the
Livre d 'Artus we have the best version of the story of the orchard,
fair as paradise, where all who ate of the fruit of the apple-tree became
prisoners physically and mentally. " L'enchantement a saisi leur
etre tout entier, comme le ' boivre amoureux ' enchaine a jamais 1'un
a 1'autre les cceurs de Tristan et d'Yseut. C'est ainsi que les com-
pagnons d'Ulysse deviennent prisonniers chez les Lotophages, une
fois qu'ils ont porte a leurs levres le fruit au gout de miel, et oublient
le nom de leur patrie." (Rom., XXV, 274.)*

In Guingamor, however, there is no mention of the hero's being
detained in fairyland by virtue of eating magic fruit: on the contrary,
he is reduced to his natural human state by eating fruit in the land
of mortals, and thus is removed from the fairy control. This appears
to be the reverse of the legend in its usual form. Perhaps Philipot
is right in supposing (p. 274, note i) that the complete legend com-
prised both parts, and that Guingamor tasted of the fruit of the fee
before becoming her guest. Just as likely, however, the present
position of this feature in our account is due to an accidental shifting
of it from its more usual place at the beginning of the supernatural
life. Possibly it was intentionally put where we find it by the poet,
who may have thought this a better way of explaining the transfor-

1 Ballads, pt. II, p. 322.

2 Niedersachsische Sagen und Marchen, Schambach und Miiller, p. 373.

8 In Romania, XXV, 258 ff. On apples of immortality, etc., see Bugge's
important article, Iduns sEbler, Arkiv f. nor disk Filologi, V, I ff.
* Cf. G. Paris, Romania, VIII, 50.

The Lay of Guingamor. 225

mation of Guingamor than the older one of mere contact with the
earth, as in Bran, Conall, and Oisin.1

To the beautiful castle of the fee which Guingamor found appar-
ently uninhabited at first, and which he entered on horseback through
the ivory gates, examining it carefully in all parts before he finally
left it, believing himself traiz (11. 363 ff.), Gaston Paris has noted the
excellent parallel in Partenopeus de Blois? This feature, common
enough in the romances of the Middle Ages, is several times made
use of in the history of Perceval. Three distinct cases may be found
in the Conte del Graal, 23,292 ff., 23,898 ff., and 26,541 ff. In afourth
instance (22,397 ff.), we have, in addition, the losing of a valuable
bracket borrowed from another person to be of assistance in hunting
a certain animal, and afterwards sought for by the borrower with
much solicitude, — an incident which forms an important part of the
introduction to Guingamor. In both cases it is &fee, with whom the
hero falls in love, that has most to do with this adventure, and
through her the bracket and the stag's head (for in both cases this is
the only part of the animal which is the knight's final concern) are
restored to him. It is, moreover, " par faerie " that these are lost to
him in the first place.

At the fee's castle in Guingamor, we are told, there were three
hundred knights.

Chascuns de ecus menoit s'amie:

Molt ert bele la compaingnie;

Vallez i ot a espreviers

O biaus ostors fors et muiers;

El pales en ot autretant,

As tables, as esches jouant. (513 ff.)

And the following passage describes other entertainments :

Molt fu la nuit bien herbergiez,
Bons mengiers ot a grant plente",
O grant deduit, o grant fierte",

1 Compare the circumstances of the transformation which took place in one of
Bran's comrades the moment he set foot on the Island of Joy (cap. 61, ed. Meyer).

2 Ed. Crapelet, Paris, 1834: see particularly 11. 783-98, 817-24, 851-2, 873-4,
885-6, 895-6, 905-6.

226 William Henry Schofield.

Sons de herpes e de vieles,
Chanz de vallez et de puceles;
Grant merveille ot de la noblece,
De la biautd, de la richesce. (526 ff.)

These are the regular features of the castles of fairydom, and the
worthy knights transported to Avalon all spend their time in infinite
joy. As each one of those in Guingamor's new home was provided
with an amie, so were the dwellers in the Castle of Maidens in the
spurious introduction to Chretien's Perceval:

Laiens avoit cascuns s'amie,

Moult par menoient bele vie (417-8) ;

and those at the Castiel Orguellous in Chretien's part of the poem:

El castiel, chevaliers de pris

A .v. c. et sissante et dis,

Et sacie's qu'il n'i a celui

Qui n'ait s'amie avoeques lui. (6069 ff.)

We remember that Perceval, finding himself alone in the fairy's
castle, turned to the amusement ready at hand — that of the game
of chess — and we discover what were the usual accompaniments of
such places when we read what Partenopeus missed : *

Mais tot li semble cose huisdive
Quant il n'i voit rien nule vive :
Nus n'i mangue, nus n'i sert:

N'i a dame ne damoisele,

Ne harpe oie, ne viele:

Nus n'i noise ne n'i tabore

Com en tel liu et a tel ore. (895 ff.)

This land is evidently similar to the Venusberg in which Tann-
hauser sought solace, and which was so surrounded with mysterious
charm that, notwithstanding the efforts of the mediaeval clergy, the
belief in its existence long held possession of the popular mind.a

1 Cf. further Nutt, Happy Otherworld, 1, 142 ff. ; also Perceval, 1 5,426 ff., 1 5,486 ff.

2 See Rom., VIII, 50, and cf. Miss Weston's Legends of the Wagner Drama,
London, 1896, pp. 344 ff., and App., p. 373.

The Lay of Guingamor. 227

The idea was particularly tenacious on Celtic soil, as is evinced by
the numerous Celtic stories in which it is enshrined. Guingamor
agrees with those which we have discussed above in that it too relates
the following adventures :

A valiant mortal finds his way unexpectedly to the other world,
where he is kept a willing but unwitting prisoner by a fascinating
woman for a very long (though apparently very short) term of years,
sustained by supernatural food, and enjoying marvellous pleasures.
He conceives a sudden desire to return to his native land, and, leav-
ing fairyland against the will of its mistress, crosses the water to
mortal shores, where he finds all his friends long since forgotten,
but his name still kept in legendary remembrance because of his
extraordinary disappearance. There he is able to tell the story of
his life, but, since he violates the commands his mistress has imposed
upon him, the supernatural conditions under which he has been
living are removed, and he becomes a weak old man, as if he had
been hundreds of years upon the earth. He is, however, permitted
to depart once more, and the inhabitants of his former home record
his adventure in wondering fable.

Such are the essential elements of our lay. In them we have the
oldest and most important part, with which the rest seems to have
been combined more or less by accident. The accretions, however,
are worthy of examination.

The poet had his choice of different ways of getting his hero to
the other world. The one he selected was to make the hero, in the
course of a hunting expedition, fall in with the fairy princess, and
thus our story is connected with a large cycle of other poems which
differ entirely from Guingamor in their central idea and dhtotiment.
The long introduction, which leads up to the adventures that have
occupied our attention almost wholly to this point, divides itself
again into two distinct parts : (i) the intrigue of the queen to gain
the knight's love, and (2) the eventful hunt during which the fee is
discovered. I shall soon have occasion to quote a reference (hitherto
apparently overlooked) to our story in one of the continuations of
the Perceval, and this may help us to decide what were the elements
of the lay in the earliest form we can postulate. I leave that aside,
however, for the moment, in order to compare the introduction as

228 William Henry Schofield.

a whole with similar accounts in Old French poems of about the
same period — the lays of Graelent, Lanval, and Desire, also the
story of the Chastelaine de Vergi, and one of those in the Dolopathos
— that in so doing we may not only arrive at a better understanding
of the original features of the story, but also see more clearly how
similar poems were in early times composed.1

I. GRAELENT.2 — Graelent and Guingamor agree in the following
points :

1. In both we learn that the king of " Bretagne " had many barons
about him, of whom one (Graelent or Guingamor) was especially
distinguished and loved by him.

Chevalier ert preuz et senez; Li rois le retint vulentiers

For sa valor, por sa biaute", Pur gou qu'il iert biax chevaliers,

Li rois le tint en grant chierte. Mut le chdri e honera.8

(Gg., 12 ff.) (Gt., 13 ff.)

2. The queen falls in love with him, and sends a messenger to bid
him come to her presence. The hero receives her salutations, and
makes no objections to going to her ; for he in no way suspects her
regard for him. She makes him sit down beside her in her apart-
ment (cf. " Dejoste li le fist seoir," Gg., 67, and " De joste li sdir le
fist," Gt., 59); then, praising his beauty and valor, she offers herself
to him.

Amer vos voil de druerie, Je vus otroi ma druerie

Et que je soie vostre amie. Sole's amis e jou amie.

(Gg., 101-2.) (Gt., 119-20.)

He, however, recalls the duty he owes his lord, and takes an abrupt
departure.

3. In both she sends to him — in Guingamor, her maid, with the

1 For an interesting discussion of the relations of Graelent, Guingamor, Lanval,
Guigemar, Dtsirt, and the Chastelaine de Vergi, see A. Ahlstrb'm, Studier i den
fornfranska Lais-litteraturen, Upsala, 1892, pp. 51 ff.

2 Roquefort, Poesies de Marie de France, Paris, 1820, I, 486-541. No one now
ascribes this lay to Marie, and most scholars believe that it contains an earlier
form of the story told in the Lai de Lanval.

8 In quotations from Graelent, Perceval, etc., the printed editions are followed,
without any attempt at correcting their errors.

The Lay of Guingamor.

229

mantle he had left behind ; in Graelent, divers messengers with rich
presents. Having failed to win his love, she plots to get rid of him.
4. Both Guingamor and Graelent go hunting in a great forest near
the city, through which runs a river (cf. " En tin boisson espes
rame," Gt., 200, and "En un buisson espes rame," Gg., 278). Each
finds himself there alone very dolent, and sets out in pursuit of an
animal (" une bisse blance " in Gt., a white boar in Gg.}, which sud-
denly appears. Thus following and calling, he is led into a lande,
where is a fontaine with water clere et bele (Gg., 425; Gt., 209).
Therein he sees a pucele bathing, attended in Gg. by one, in Gt. by
two maidens. She is in his opinion the most beautiful being in the
world. The clothes, of which she is despoulie (Gt., 213; cf. Gg.,
447) are on. a bush near by, and he takes possession of them in
order to prevent her from going away (cf. Gt., 225-6 ; Gg., 443) ;
but she perceives him, and then

Le chevalier a apele* Lor Dame 1'a araisune',

Et fie"rement aresonne": Par mautalent 1'a apele":

Guingamors, lessiez ma despoille. Graelent, lai mes dras ester.

(Gg., 445 ff.) (Gt., 229 ff.)

In both cases she assumes the tone of a superior in her conversa-
tion. She finally emerges from the water, is dressed, and consents
to love the hero :

Volentiers i metoit s'entente
Qu'ele 1'amast de druerie;
Doucement la regarde et prie
Que s'amor li doint et otroit:
Onques mes n'ot le cuer destroit
For nule fame qu'il veist,
Ne d'amor garde ne si prist.
Cele fu sage et bien aprise,
Guingamor respont en itel guise
Qu'ele 1'amera volentiers,
Dont ot joie li chevaliers.
Puis que 1'amor fu ostroide
Acole'e 1'a et besie'e.

Merci li prie dolcement
.... .......

Si li otroie sa druerie,

E il fera de li s'amie;

Loialment e bien 1'amera,

James de li ne partira.

La dameisele ot e entent

La parole de Graelent,

E voit qu'il est curteis e sage,

...........

S'amur li a bien otreie';
E il 1'a ducement baisie".
A lui parole en itel guise:
. .
Jeo vus amerai vraiement.

(Observe the similarity in the rhyme words.)

230 William Henry Schofield,

5. When he leaves the fie, a certain restriction is imposed upon
him. His failure to obey reduces him to great distress ; but his
amie takes pity on him, and he finally goes to live with her in her
abode of delights in the other world forever.

II. LANVAL. — Lanval^ has, as every one knows, much in common
with Graelent. Here also we find the much-loved knight at the
king's court, of whom the queen becomes enamoured, and whom she
strives unsuccessfully to make her ami. From her window she sees
him in the orchard below, and she soon arranges a private talk with
him, in which she offers the knight her antur and druerie. He refuses
her advances bluntly, for he would not dishonor his master, and the
repulsed queen, fearing that her avowal of love may reach the ears
of the king, plots to dispose of the knight. It is als® told of the
latter how, when alone in a forest, troubled by his unhappy situation,
he discovers a fee princess, who offers to aid him in his difficulties 2
on condition that he become her ami, which he is very glad to do.
When he leaves her, she imposes upon him a certain restriction, neg-
lect of which will bring upon him misfortune. This he forgets, and
the punishment comes as she had promised. She finally relents,
however, and permits him to return and dwell with her. She is
always accompanied by maidens, and her messengers go in couples.
In the end Lanval accompanies her to Avalon, and leaves those of
his own land to marvel at his departure and mourn his loss.

III. D£sm£. — In the Lai del Desire* also we have a knight favored
by the king and loved by his companions for his beauty and valor.
One morning he rides out well equipped, and soon finds himself
" sanz compaignun " in a forest. Ere long, however, he comes upon
a fountain bubbling up under a great tree. Beside this fountain is a

1 Ed. Warnke, Lais der Marie de France, pp. 86 ff. ; cf. Ixxxi ff.

2 In Lanval the hero's trouble is lack of money, and not the result of the
queen's plotting. Note that in Guingamor the fte promises to restore to the
hero his bracket and the boar's head, the loss of which is the cause of his sorrow.
This meeting with a/& just at a time when her help is needed is the regular thing
in this sort of stories. Cf. A. Treichel on Sir Cleges, in Engl. Stud., XXII (1896),

347-

8 Ed. F. Michel, Lais Inldits, Paris, 1836, pp. 5 ff. ; cf. Strengleikar cfta LicfSabok,
ed. Keyser and Unger, Christiania, 1850.

The Lay of Guingamor. 231

beautiful maiden, and hard by is her mistress, with still greater charm.
As soon as the knight sees the latter, he does not hesitate, but
dashes quickly forward to get her into his power. Then he begs her
to accept his love :

' Vostre home serrai e vostre amis;
Pur vostre druerie aver
Vos servirai k men poeir.'
La pucele Ten mercia,
Parfundement li enclina
E dit que pas ne 1'refusout
Ne sun off re n'ele jetout.
Ottri[e"e] est la druerie. (P. 14.)

The conclusion is as given above for Graelent and Lanval.

IV. CHASTELAINE DE VERGI. — In this poem * we have another
valiant, handsome youth, the favorite of a duke, exciting the passion
of the latter's wife. Her love advances are repulsed. The youth
here, as in Guingamor, expresses his desire ever to love her legiti-
mately as the wife of his lord, but he repudiates her propositions
when she speaks plainly of her desires. The duchess, angered in
heart and bent on revenge, tries to induce her husband so to act
towards the knight as to have him forever put out of the way. Here
again, as in Lanval, we have a secret love on the part of the hero
which makes him more vigorous in his rejection of the lady's
proposal.

V. DOLO PATHOS. — The story in Guingamor has further a very
striking likeness in incident to one of the stories in the Old French
Dolopathos? written by one Herbert between 1202 and 1207, — an
agreement which, so far as I know, has not hitherto been discussed,
and to which I would call particular attention.8

i. Once more we have the handsome, valiant young knight, the
highest in the king's favor, starting out to hunt a white stag, and

1 Edited, with an excellent discussion, by Gaston Raynaud in Romania, XXI,
145 ff.; Barbazan-Meon, IV, 296 ff.

2 Published for the first time complete by Brunei and Montaiglon, Paris, 1856.
8 Hertz, Spielmannsbnch,\>. 317, notes that there are resemblances between the

Guingamor and the Dolopathos, but he draws no inferences.

232

William Henry Schofield.

taking with him his dogs (bracket, liamier, etc.). He rides a chaceor
and bears a cor (cf. DoL, 9188-93; Gg., 255-61). Soon the dogs
find the tracks of the animal they seek, which, alarmed by the noise,
makes off into the thicket (cf. DoL, 9197-9210; Gg., 277-8).

2. The dogs pursue the animal. Horns are blown, and the hero
follows without companions.

Li uns corne, li autres hue;
Cil chien si doucement glatissent
Que les fores en retentissent;
Li damoisiax chevalche apres;
C'est cil ki plus le suit de pres.

(DoL, 9200 ff.)

Guingamor va sovent sonnant,
Et la muete va glatissant,
De toutes pars le sidvent pres:
El brueil ne tornera hui mes.
En la forest s'est embatuz,
Guingamors est apres venuz.

(Gg., 295 ff.)

In the thicket he loses his company and dogs :

La fores fu espesse et drue;

Tote ait sa maisnie perdue,

Et si ne seit ou si chien sont. . . .

Assez sovant mist cor an bouche;

Ses chiens et sa maisnie apele, . . .

Li valx et la fores resonne

A la vois del' cor moult sovant.

(DoL, 9215-27.)

L'espoisse erre de la forest. (Gg., 326.)
[Finding himself entirely alone,] il
commenc.a a corner (338). [This
he does repeatedly.]

Mist cor a bouche, si sonna;

Merveilleus son donna li cors.

(Gg., 352-3; cf. 416.)

4. He comes to a beautiful fountain in which a. fee is bathing :

Tant chivauche arrier et avant
Par la forest a quelke painne,
Qu'il s'anbat sor une fontainne,
Dont 1'aigue cort et sainne et bele
Blanche et nete sor la gravelle.
Lai trovait baignant une fe*e,
De ces dras toute desnue"e,
Toute seule, sanz conpaignie.
Avenans fut et eschevie
De bras et de cors et de vis;
Tot a .i. mot le vos devis,
Ains plus belle rien ne fu neie.

(DoL, 9228 ff.)

Enz el chief de la lande entra ;
Une fontaine illec trova

La fontaingne ert et cle're et bele,
D'or et d'argent ert la gravele;
Une pucele s'i baingnoit,

Biaus membres ot et Ions et plains:
El siecle n'a tant bele chose,
Ne fleur de liz ne flor de rose,
Conme cele qui estoit nue.

(Gg., 421-33.)

The Lay of Guingamor. 233

5. The youth marvels at her beauty, and is smitten with love for
her (cf. DoL, 9240-5; and Gg., 434~5> 490-1)-

6. He determines to get control of her by stealing part or all of
her apparel, which is on the shore near by, and he gets possession
of it unobserved.

7. She dresses or is dressed in his presence.

8. He then begs her to grant him her love. She accepts his
advances (cf. DoL, 9260 ff., 9285-7; and Gg., 492-502).

9. They accompany each other to a palace (in DoL, to the knight's
home ; in Gg., to the fee's castle). The hero and his amie are
received with joy, and a great feast is held (cf. DoL, 9293 ff. ; and

Gg., 523-3°)-

There is evidently a striking resemblance between these two
accounts. On the occasional agreement in rhymes land phraseology
no stress need be laid. What is remarkable is that we have the
same incidents recorded with very similar details in both cases. It
is interesting to note also that, though we have not the intrigue of
the queen and her repulse by the knight as an introduction to this
specific story in the Dolopathos, still we have practically the same
account in the introduction to the series of stories of which it forms
a part. Indeed the only excuse given for the narration of the collec-
tion of stories in either the Dolopathos or The Seven Sages is found
in the fact that the wife of the king plotted secretly to rid herself of
the young heir to the throne, by whom she had been indignantly
repulsed when she offered to become his amie.

The conclusion of the story in the Dolopathos is, however, wholly
different from that in Guingamor. It is, in fact, an early version
of the Chevalier au Cygne story — such an account as was worked
over to make the first part of the long romance published by Reiffen-
berg, which deals with the adventures of Godefroy de Bouillon, the
descendant of one of the children born to the hero and his wife the
swan-maiden. Reiffenberg, who believed that the French version of
the Dolopathos, with which we have been dealing, was to be dated
1260 (p. vii) puts it in the class of those "qui en prdsentent les faits
essentiels d'une maniere gdneVale." " Les personnages," he adds,
" n'y sont pas nommes, les ide'es chre'tiennes ont disparu, et Termite
qui dleve le Chevalier au Cygne est remplace' par un sage, un philo-

234 William Henry Schofield.

sophe solitaire, la pieuse Bdatrix par une fe'e." (Pp. xxi, xxii.) Now
that we know that the French Dolopathos should be put about fifty
years earlier than the date given it by Reiffenberg, the situation is con-
siderably altered. Moreover, Herbert's Dolopathos is now known to
be derived from a Latin prose version which may have been written
anywhere between 1179 and I2I2.1 Clearly, then, our story in the
Dolopathos was not produced by working over a version like that in
the Chevalier au Cygne, but it represents a much more primitive form
of the narrative.2 Godefroy's name is not even mentioned in the
Latin or the German version. It appears, however, in that of Her-
bert, for in his time the connection of the tale with Godefroy had
become well established.

It will be observed then, that this story which so closely resem-
bles a part of the Guingamor is an early and truly popular version
of the swan-maiden story introduced by John of Alta Silva into the
Oriental setting of the Seven Sages from popular tradition. With

1 It is well known that Herbert's version is based upon the Latin prose Dolo-
pathos of Johannes de Alta Silva, written between 1179 and 1212, and first pub-
lished by Oesterley in 1873. Paris is of the opinion that Herbert used an
amplified redaction made by the author himself (Romania, II, 500). At any rate,
it is clear that while Herbert often indulges in digressions of his own, and regu-
larly fills out descriptions of persons and places, in all essentials he follows his
original without important variation. Of the Latin version we have also a faith-
ful translation into German prose, preserved in a paper MS. of the fifteenth cen-
tury in the Library of the University of Leipzig, and first published by Haupt
and Hoffmann, Altdeutsche Blatter, 1, 128 ff. The author does not seem to have
known Herbert's version, for in no case does he introduce any of the features in
which the latter varies from his original. The German version seems, moreover,
to have existed separately, not bound up with the other stories of the Dolopathos.
It is preceded by two lines of verse and concludes with a passage of twelve
lines, both intimately connected with the story, but, in the case of the latter
at least, without any part exactly corresponding in the Latin. At first one is
tempted to believe that this indicates that there was also an old German poem on
the subject which the author of the prose version had before him; but this is a
dangerous inference, and in all probability the passages in verse were merely
added to give a sort of completeness to the story now taken out of its original
setting.

2 Cf. G. Paris, Romania, II, 490. See also Todd, La Naissance du Chevalier
an Cygne, pp. ii ff. (Publ. of the Mod. Lang. Assoc. of America, IV).

The Lay of Guingamor. 235

this account in mind we shall be better able to understand how cer-
tain features which could not have been original have found their
way into a genuine version of the journey to the other world, such
as we have seen to be well preserved in Guingamor. Let us first
examine minutely the different accounts of the capture of the maiden
bathing, which is the climax of the introduction and the object of all
that precedes.

In the Latin we read : "Fontem repperit nymphamque in eo virgi-
nem cathenam auream tenentem manu, nudaque membra lavantem
conspicit. Cuius statim pulchritudine et amore captus, ilia non
presciente accurrit, cathenamque, in qua virtus et operatio virginis
constabat, aufferens, ipsam nudam inter bracchia de fonte repente
levat" Here, then, we have a maiden alone in a forest bathing in a
fountain, holding in her hand the golden chain in which lay all her
power. She was a real swan-maiden, and when deprived of her
chain was powerless — forced ever to remain in human form a cap-
tive. The hero seems to know this, and, dashing quickly forward,
snatches the charmed chain from her as she stands in the water,
and then carries her to the shore.

Herbert does not vary much from this account except in the fact
that the knight is said to have found the chain lying on the bank, —
a change which seems to have been made in deference to the tradi-
tion that swan-maidens always leave their garments on the bank
when they bathe. He, however, does not fail to emphasize her real
character as a swan-maiden (p. 320). As we have seen, John speaks
of the chain : "in qua virtus et operatio virginis constabat." In
Herbert's version we read :

En la chaaigne fut sans doute

Sa vertu et sa force toute:

N'ot pooir de soi desfandre (p. 320);

while the German version puts it thus : " dor ynne simderliche kraft
ynne wass und planeten ynguss adder ynfloss."

In Guingamor, on the other hand, the lady of the fountain is, or
ought to be, a genuine _/£?, of an entirely different nature from that
of the swan-maiden. The author of the lay has not, however, been

236 William Henry Schofield.

able to keep her entirely distinct.1 Confused by the resemblance
she bears to the heroines of such stories as that in the Dolopathos,
the poet introduces swan-maiden features which have no business
there. He too represents his heroine as bathing in a fountain and
as having left her garments on the shore when she entered the water.
He too tells of the hero's anxiety to get immediate possession of
them and of his success in so doing. But, of course, to have as-
cribed any unusual powers to these garments (considering the end-
ing the story was to have) would have hopelessly muddled the
reader, and the poet had to invent an excuse for the hero's action.
The only reason now given is that the latter wanted to force the
maiden to remain where she was until he came back from his search
for his dog. The situation is therefore somewhat stupidly distorted.
In the Dolopathos the hero, as soon as he sees the beautiful woman,
"ses chiens oublie et sa mainie" (9243; cf. 9259, and Gt., 217).

The author of Guingamor, however, though he has to some extent
confused the fee princess with a swan-maiden, has not allowed this
confusion to work any real change in her character or attributes.
She is not, like the maiden in the Dolopathos, a weak, defenceless
captive, but a queenly princess. She does not humbly accept a
marriage forced upon her, but comes from a distant land solely to
carry back the hero whom she loves, — not in the future to be a wife
patiently enduring all sorts of indignities, but a proud supernatural
mistress whose commands when not followed to the letter bring
sorrow to him whose life even is in her hands.

In Graelent, and (to a less degree) in Desire also, we have traces
of similar confusion of the fee and the swan-maiden. In Graelent,
as in Guingamor, the hero snatches away the clothes just as if their
possession were of some moment. In Dolopathos we learn that " la
damoiselle fu souprise " (9252), and that was true. In Graelent the
fee (for such is now her nature) tells the hero : " Graelent, vus m'ave's
surprise " (300); but almost in the next breath she is made to say:

Pur vus ving-jou & la fontaine,
Pur vus souferai-jou grant paine;
Bien savoie ceste aventure (315 ff.),

1 Cf. Landau, Beitr. zur Gesch. der ital. Novelle, 1875, p. 106, n., and Ahlstrom,
Studier, p. 54, n.

The Lay of Guingamor. 237

and we see that the first remark is inconsistent with the true state
of affairs described in the second. No fee was ever surprised; but
no real swan-maiden was ever taken otherwise.

So in Desire, while in reality the fie was evidently awaiting the
young knight as in Graelent and Lanval, he too is described in the
poem as getting possession of her by force. She tries to escape as
soon as she sees him; but he succeeds in catching her. Once
caught, it is she, of course, who commands.

Never is ihefte slow to speak her mind. Compare with Guinga-
mor, 445-52, the corresponding passage in Graelent (229-38).
These passages present a significant agreement between these two
poems. The words would, indeed, be little appropriate in the mouth
of a swan-maiden.1 As I have already said, the maiden in Guinga-
mor and Graelent is in no way surprised by the knight's advent.
She knows all about him — past and future — and is there on pur-
pose to meet him. In Guingamor she invites him to her, bids him
not to fear, and offers to shelter him, for he must be tired after his
hunt, and he cannot get the dog or the boar without her aid. He
must humbly agree to whatever she decrees, for she has the greatest
power.2

If now we examine more closely the induction to the boar-hunt in
Guingamor, we see at once that it has no inherent connection with
the rest of the poem. It is evident that this story of the depravity
of the wife in high station was originally extraneous to our account.

1 In the Latin of John of Alta Silva the heroine is several times called a
nimpha ; in the French translation, Herbert, for want of a better word, calls her
a fee (cf. Machault, Prise cTAlexandrie, 23-4) ; in the German we read, " dor
iimme werden siilche frowen wiinschelwybere."

2 The author of Guingamor provides his maiden at the fountain with an
attendant. This feature is another witness to the genuine fee character of the
princess. In the Dolopathos the heroine was " toute seule, sanz compaignie "
(9235), and, of course, swan-maidens never had attendants. On the other hand
those of the fee usually went in couples. It is interesting to see that in the con-
cluding part of the poem the regular two ' attendants of the//<? appear in order to
carry Guingamor back to the other world. Of the poems Guingamor, Graelent,
Desirt, and Lanval, the last-named is the only one which shows no trace of swan-
maiden influence, the only one in which the beautiful maiden is indeed purely a
fee.

238 William Henry Schqfield,

We recognize immediately its similarity to the legend of Joseph and
Potiphar's wife (Gen. xxxix). Observe in particular, that the queen
grasps Guingamor's mantle when he is leaving her in righteous
indignation. In the poem, however, the point of the incident is lost.
The queen, unlike Potiphar's wife, makes no use of the mantle.1
She simply returns it by a messenger.

We have already observed (see pp. 288 ff.) certain agreements in
incident, tone, and even the use of specific words between Gtiinga-
mor and Graeknt. It should be noted further that, while Graelent
and Lanval deal with the same subject, Graelent is in some marked
respects much more like Guingamor than like Lanval. Guingamor
agrees with Graelent in that some swan-maiden features are intro-
duced into the_/2<? episode, and in that the meeting is brought about
by the hero's undertaking a hunt, while in both this is preceded by
his rejection of an amorous queen's proposals. In Lanval, on the
other hand, the heroine in no way resembles a swan-maiden; there
is no mention of a hunt, and the fee has already become the hero's
amie before the queen makes her proposal. It seems, therefore,
probable that the induction in Guingamor, and perhaps other fea-
tures, are due to the influence of the Graelent saga.

If the author of Guingamor was, as is suggested, Marie de France,
then the prefixing of this account is not remarkable. Marie doubt-
less knew the Graelent version of the story of which she has given
us such a charming rendering in Lanval ; but in the latter lay she
wisely brought about the knight's meeting with the fee at the begin-
ning of the poem so that his action later in the presence of the
queen might be more satisfactorily explained. She doubtless delib-
erately chose this form for her Lanval; but there was no reason
why she should not make use of the story of the intrigues of the
queen to introduce a poem on Guingamor, and thus give a reason
for the knight's undertaking the hunt. We remember that one of
the lays we know to be hers opens in a similar way, though the
introduction is there much shorter. Guigemar also was a youth
who cared not for the love of women.

1 See Ahlstrom, Studier i den fornfranska Lais-litteraturen, p. 53, n.

The Lay of Guinganwr. 239

De tant i out mespris nature
que unc de nule amur n'out cure.
Suz ciel n'out dame ne pucele,
ki tant par fust noble ne bele,
se il d'amer la requeist,
que volentiers nel retenist.
Plusurs Ten requistrent suvent,
mais il n'aveit de ce talent;
nuls ne se pout aparceveir
que il volsist amur aveir. (57 ff.)

It certainly was not far from such an introduction to the well-known
account of a special instance in which a youth refused the love of
one of the women who had found his beauty irresistible.1 *

There was, it is certain, a great fund of separate incidents circu-
lating about, which were combined and recombined a hundred times
to make up as many different lays. The skill of the author was
shown in the combination of these separate elements, in the grace
of his phraseology, and in the little details which he introduced to
enliven his narrative and stimulate the imagination of his audience.
When a writer of lays chose to write about a special hero, he picked
out the incidents which he thought would form a harmonious com-
bination and produce an effective poem. He usually kept close
to tradition so far as the separate elements were concerned ; but
he gave himself free play in their fusion. Lays were doubtless
written on all hands by all sorts of persons. In our own special lay
we have important evidence of how they grew up. When in the
evening the king returned from the chase and sat down to dinner,
he and his companions in their glee told of the adventures of the
day (143-4). When Guingamor gets lost in the forest and is in-
clined to give way to his dismay in the uninhabited castle, he com-
forts himself by thinking

Que tele aventure a trove'e

For raconter en sa contre*e. (395-6.)

1 Cf. Emil Schiott, U Amour et Us Amoureux dans les Lais de Marie de
France, Lund, 1889.

240 William Henry Schofield.

When he sees his dog and the boar, he thinks with satisfaction of
what will happen on his return to court:

Parle" en ert mes a toz dis,

Et molt en acuidra grant pris. (349-50.)

Indeed he learns later from the woodcutter that his adventure was
in very truth long remembered and recounted (603 ff.). Then finally
we are told how the peasant who carried the head of the boar to the
king, " par trestout conte 1'aventure" (67 1), and " mostrer la [la teste]
fait a mainte feste " (674). Moreover, the king bade that a lay be
made on the subject "por 1'aventure recorder" (675).

All this reminds us of the significant passage in the beginning of
the lay of Tyolet (23 ff. ; Rom., VIII, 42), which is probably a trust-
worthy account of the way in which the Breton lays were composed.
The story in the Dolopathos was doubtless one of those which " raises
estoient en latin," and we know that it was put " de latin en romanz"
by Herbert. That it was translated into Latin, however, did not
prevent the lay from living on in popular tradition, and Herbert in
putting the Latin into French doubtless made use of oral accounts
circulating among the people.

There were doubtless many versions of the story of the knight
hunting in the woods, losing his dogs and companions, and coming
in his loneliness upon a supernatural maiden, with whom he was
induced to go away to live. That this account was in all probability
a part of Guingamor from the beginning seems clear when we note
the important reference to our hero in the continuation of the Per-
ceval by Gaucher de Dourdan (Gautier de Doulens).

There we read of a swan bringing a dead knight to Arthur's court
in a beautiful boat. The knight's name is given as Brangemuer
(21,873). The maiden who accompanies him tells the king:

Sire, Guinganmer 1'engenra
En une fde qu'il trova.
Bien aye's o'i aconter
Coment il caga le sangler
Et com ma dame le retint;
Bien aye's o'i qu'il devint ;
C'est la ro'ine Brangepart ;

The Lay of Guingamor. 241

Morteus estoit envers le pere

Mais non pas, sire, envers la mere. (21,859 &)

His name is a combination of those of his parents :

Rois fu des illes de la mer ;

En une des illes estoit *

U nus autres horn 1 n'abitoit,

De cele contrde estoit rois. (21,875 #•)

The queen, his mother, would rejoice if his body were sent to her :

Ses gens 1'atendent en cest mois,

Et sacie*s, quant s'en tornera,

Une grant mervelle avenra. (21,880 ff.)

This precious reference shows clearly that the story of Guingamor's
hunt and his going off to dwell with a supernatural princess who
ruled over a land of bliss beyond our ken, was extremely well known
in early times ; for the most casual reference sufficed to recall the
whole story to the minds of Gaucher's readers. It may, indeed,
be to our very lay that the poet alludes. It is true that there is
nothing there said of the fee bearing a son to Guingamor; but that
does not appear to be an original feature. Much more probably
Gaucher (doing as many another romance-writer was in the habit of
doing) merely recalled Guingamor as a well-known and popular
romantic figure to give an assumed illustrious parentage to the
knight whose story he was then so admirably telling, — probably
having in mind at the same time some such case as that of the son
of Ogier le Danois and the fee, who became eventually lord of the
Isle of Avalon.2

Of course, it would be in no way extraordinary to have more than
one lay on a given subject. Indeed, the contrary would be almost
impossible. We have seen already how Graelent and Lanval tell
the same story in different ways. Of Milan and Doon, Gaston Paris

1 The Montpellier MS. has : nus mortiez horn.

2 Note also that Dfsiri and his amie have a son and a daughter, both of whom
are left in the land of mortals, and that the son is knighted by Arthur and remains
at his court, although he is expected in the other world later.

242 William Henry Schofield.

says: * " La ressemblance exacte du fonds et la diversite de la forme
de ces deux re'cits ne permettent pas assure'ment de les attribuer au
meme auteur." Biselavret and Guiron exist alongside of Mellon and
Ignaurts; Tydorel reminds us of Desire. Lays that were popular
were told everywhere, and it was perhaps only occasionally that a
poet with talent managed to fix a specific version which he had
heard by putting it in a form which commanded universal admira-
tion and thus making it thenceforward the standard. There may
very well have been another lay describing Guingamor's adventure ;
but it is not necessary to postulate it. We have in the extant lay all
the essential features that are implied in Gaucher's reference.

We must not fail to observe in this connection how valuable this
allusion is in showing the origin of much of the material in the
Arthurian romances. It is perfectly clear that the romance-writers
knew the Breton lays well and utilized them freely, not only in
getting names for those who were to take part in their elaborate
tournaments, but also by borrowing the incidents therein contained
as a means of lengthening out their tales of adventure. This pro-
cess probably went a great deal farther than we now-a-days are
inclined to believe. There can be no doubt that of the hundreds of
lays which must have been written but which unfortunately are
now lost, there were many which told at length wonderful adven-
tures of heroes whose names only are recorded in the extant romances.
What should we have known of Guingamor's hunt and his life with
the fee had not a kind fate preserved by chance the unique manu-
script in which it is recorded, and impelled a modern scholar to
rescue it from further danger by putting it in print?

In such stories as that of Guingamor Gaucher de Dourdan seems
to have delighted. It does not take one long to discover that he
had a special fondness for fees, for he loses no opportunity to make
some reference to them. The highest compliment he pays his
heroines is to say that they resemble fees, and the most beautiful
castles are "fait par faerie."8 Moreover, he repeats on different

1 Romania, VIII, 60.

2 See, for example, (I) 25,972, 28,656-7, 30,446-7, 31,264 (note), 32,055, 33,280;
(II) 26,999, cf. 30,220 ff. Cf. the visit of Carados to the magic other-world castle

The Lay of Giiingamor. 243

occasions the story of a valiant knight going off with a beautiful
maiden whom he finds alone by a fountain, to dwell with her in hap-
piness. Such an account is given of the knight of the Tomb by
Garsalas, his half-brother (27,399 ff-)- ^n one adventure, indeed, I
think we may detect the direct influence of the lay of Guingamor :
I refer to the story of Carmadit as told by Briot to Perceval
(28,896 ff.), in which we have the boar-hunt, the enchanted castle,
and the mysterious maiden who has long awaited the hero's coming.
We need not, in fine, have the slightest doubt that the author of
Graelent vras entirely right in saying :

L'aventure du chevalier

Cum il s'en ala od sa mie

Fu par tute Bretaigne o'l'e. (727 ff.)

WILLIAM HENRY SCHOFIELD.

as told in Perc. 15,426 ff., and Gawain's meeting the beautiful fee combing her
hair by the fountain, recorded in that part of the Perc. (31,605 ff.) describing the
incidents leading to his adventures with Li Petis Chevaliers.

THE GERMAN HAMLET AND THE EARLIER ENGLISH

VERSIONS.

THE German Hamlet^ distorted and debased though it is on
the whole, has commanded the attention of critics by virtue
of the abundant instances in which it is identical with Shakspere's
text. These instances are of particular interest in the task of recon-
structing the Elizabethan interpretation of Hamlet's madness, which
I lately undertook in an essay called The Elizabethan Hamlet?
Throughout the German play, Hamlet's madness, though conceived
in a manner grotesquely comic, is expressed in scenes and speeches
which have many points of identity with those we find in Shakspere.
For instance, Hamlet says to Ophelia, " Go to a nunnery, but not to a
nunnery where two pairs of slippers lie at the bedside." In my essay
I assumed that the German play, like Shakspere's version, was de-
rived from the earliest English Hamlet, which, though lost, is gener-
ally believed to have been written by Thomas Kyd ; and I argued
that the presentment of Hamlet's madness in the German version
throws much light on the presentment in Shakspere's source, the
lost play. At least two critics of note, however, Professor Wilhelm
Creizenach and Pr. Gustav Tanger, contend that the German Hamlet
is a vulgarization of Shakspere. In the absence of the earliest Eng-
lish play the controversy can never, perhaps, be settled with certainty.
Yet I hope that a brief history of it, together with a word of com-
ment, will go far toward warranting my assumption that the German
play and Shakspere's version have a common source, the lost
English play.

As early as 1857 Bernhardy pronounced3 that "this German
Hamlet is a weak copy of the old tragedy which preceded [Shak-

1 Der Bestrafte Brudermord ; oder Prinz Hamlet aus Dannemark. Trans-
lated in Furness's Variorum Hamlet, II, pp. 121-142.

2 London (Elkin Mathews), 1895. 8 Furness, Variorum Hamlet, II, p. 116.

246 John Corbin.

spere's] quarto of 1603." Cohn, in his fascinating Shakespeare in
Germany (1865) quotes this statement,1 and remarks that the German
play "approaches most nearly to that form of Shakespeare's Hamlet
which we find in the quarto of 1603." Dyce, in his second edition
(1866), agrees with Cohn that it "approaches more nearly [to the
quarto of 1603] than ... to later editions." Thus both Cohn and
Dyce give tacit assent to Bernhardy's conclusion. Clark and Wright
(1872), moreover, agree explicitly with Bernhardy: "It does not
appear that the German playwright made use of Shakespeare's Hamlet,
or even of the play as represented in Q! [1603]. ... It is probable
that the German text, even in its present diluted form, may contain
something of the older English play upon which Shakespeare
worked."2 These conclusions Dr. Latham strongly confirmed in
Two Dissertations upon Hamlet? which appeared in book form
in 1872. And Dr. Furness, after summarizing the foregoing opinions,
concludes: In the German play "we have a translation of an old
English tragedy, and most probably the one which is the ground-
work of the quarto of 1603."* This view all English critics have
tacitly or explicitly accepted.

II

One fact, however, which Bernhardy. pointed out as early as 1857
the English critics have never sufficiently explained. A number of
passages common to the German version and to Shakspere's second
quarto are lacking in the first quarto. These Professor Creizenach
makes the basis of an able and exhaustive argument to prove that
the German version is not only a vulgarization of Shakspere, but
was derived from Shakspere's play in its completed form.

These instances in which the German Hamlet agrees with the second
quarto, and not with the first, are nineteen in number. Except for
one fact they would show pretty conclusively that the German play
was derived from the second quarto. This fact is that in many

., II, p. 1 1 6.

p. 117.

8 Transactions of the Royal Society of Literature, New Series, X.
* Var., II, p. 1 20.

The German Hamlet and the Earlier English Versions. 247

other instances passages common to the German version and the
first quarto are not forthcoming in the second quarto. In order to
explain this, Creizenach is driven to assume that the German play
was founded not on the second quarto, but on a playhouse version
of it, now lost, which he denominates Y. This Y he supposes to
have contained those peculiarities of both of the quartos which crop
out in the German play. "Diese Annahme muss um so berechtigter
erscheinen, da fast alle diejenigen, die sich bisher mit der Hamlet-
Text-Frage beschaftigten, auch ganz ohne Riicksicht auf D [the
German Hamlef\ durch die blosse Betrachtung von A und B [the
first and second quartos] auf ein solches Y als auf ein nothwendiges
Postulat hingewiesen wurden." * Creizenach personally inclines to
the belief2 that this Y was, to all intents and purposes, the final
stage version of Shakspere's Hamlet.

Dr. Gustav Tanger contends 3 that the assumption of such a Y as
the source of the German version is not necessary. In his opinion,
the German play was derived from the first quarto. His main addi-
tion to the argument is apropos of the following passage from
Creizenach, concerning the ordering of the scenes in the various
versions. "In the first quarto," says Creizenach4 "the scenes are
ordered as follows: first the talk between Polonius and the King
and Queen (lines 755 ff.); then Hamlet's monologue and his scene
with Ophelia : the talk between Hamlet and Polonius does not come
until after this. In the second quarto, on the other hand, the talk
between Polonius and the King and Queen (act ii, sc. 2) is fol-
lowed at once by the talk between Hamlet and Polonius ; Hamlet's
monologue and his scene with Ophelia come later (act iii, sc. i).
In the ordering of these scenes the first quarto agrees with the Ger-
man play ; but the fact signifies nothing, because the talk between
Hamlet and Polonius, which in the second quarto precedes and in
the first quarto follows Hamlet's scene with Ophelia, is lacking."

1 Berichte itber die Verhandlungen der koniglich sdchsischen Gesellschaft der
Wissenschaften zu Leipzig. PhilologiscJi-Historische Classe, 1887, vol. I, p. 31.

2 Ibid., p. 38. See also Shakespeare Jahrb., vol. XXIII, p. 242, for Tanger's
report of a personal letter from Creizenach.

8 Shakespeare Jahrb., vol. XXIII, p. 224.
4 Quoted by Tanger, ibid., p. 227.

248 John Cor bin.

To disprove this last assertion Tanger invites attention to a wider
view of the scenes. l

In the second quarto the scenes occur as follows (act ii, sc. 2) :
(i) Polonius, King, Queen. (2) Hamlet and Polonius I (" Fish-
monger"). (3) Hamlet, Rosencrans, and Guildenstern. (4) Hamlet,
Rosencrans, Guildenstern, Polonius II ("Rossius"; Polonius an-
nounces the players). (5) Hamlet, Rosencrans, Guildenstern, Polo-
nius, and the players. (6) Hamlet's Monologue I ("O what a rogue
. . . "). (7) King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosencrans, Guilden-
stern. (8) Hamlet's Monologue II ("To be or not to be ... ").
(9) Hamlet and Ophelia. (10) King and Polonius. (The King
doubts Hamlet's madness and plans to send him to England.
Polonius wants to test Hamlet farther.)

In the first quarto these scenes are arranged (lines 755 ff.): (i)
Polonius, King, and Queen (Ophelia is present, but does not speak).
(8) Hamlet's Monologue II ("To be or not to be." . . ). (9) Hamlet
and Ophelia. (10) King and Polonius. (This scene is as in the
second quarto, except that there is no mention of sending Hamlet to
England.) (2) Hamlet and Polonius I ("Fishmonger"). (3) Hamlet,
Rosencrans, 'and Guildenstern. (4) Hamlet, Rosencrans, Guilden-
stern, Polonius II ("Rossius"; Polonius announces the players).

(5) Hamlet, Rosencrans, Guildenstern, Polonius, and the players.

(6) Hamlet's Monologue I ("O what a rogue . . . "). (7) King,
Queen, Polonius, Rosencrans, Guildenstern.

In the German play the few scenes which remain of this sequence
are arranged as follows (act ii, sc. 2): (i) Polonius, King, Queen,
and presently (sc. 3), as in the first quarto, Ophelia. (9) Hamlet
and Ophelia. (10) King and Polonius. (The King doubts Hamlet's
madness. As in the first quarto, he makes no mention of England.)
(4) Hamlet, and Polonius, who announces the players. (5) Hamlet,
Polonius, and the players.

From this simple tabulation it appears that whatever may have
been the case with the language of the German version, its ordering
of the scenes was here virtually identical with that of the first quarto.

The nineteen instances of identity, however, which Creizenach

1 Shakespeare Jahrb,, XXIII, p. 227.

The German Hamlet and the Earlier English Versions. 249

found between the German version and the second quarto, Tanger
had still to account for. For example,1 the German version, ii, 2
reads :

Corambus [Polonius]. Prince Hamlet is mad — ay, as mad as the Greek
madman ever was.

King. And why is he mad ?

Cor. Because he has lost his wits.

This passage, Creizenach points out, more closely resembles the
corresponding passage in the second than that in the first quarto.
To illustrate, the second quarto (ii, 2, 92) reads :

Your noble sonne is mad:
Mad call I it, for to define true madness
What ist but to be nothing else but mad.

In the first quarto, 1. 757, we find merely:

Certaine it is that he is madde:
Mad let vs grant him then.

Tanger, however, remarks that in the German play the passage is
followed by another feeble jest :

King. Where, pray, has he lost his wits ?

Cor. That I don^t know. That may he know who has found them.

This italicized speech, he thinks, was imported into the German
play from the grave-diggers' scene in the first quarto (11. 1926 et
seg.~), which does not otherwise appear there.

Ham. ."*. . how came he madde ?

Clown. I faith very strangely, by loosing of his wittes.

Ham. Vpon what ground?

Clown. A this groitnd, in Denmarke.

Tanger concludes that the apparent similarity between the German
play and the second quarto really arose from the confusion of two
separate scenes in the first quarto. Such evidence, though ingen-
ious as one could wish, can scarcely be called conclusive.

1 Shakespeare Jahrb., XXIII, p. 235. The translation is Furness's.

250 John Cor bin.

In other cases his procedure is even less sound.1 In the second
quarto (act i, sc. 5, 1. 2):

My houre is almost come
When I to sulphrous and tormenting flames
Must render up my self.

In the German version, i, 5 :

Ghost. Hear me, Hamlet, for the time draws near when I must betake
myself again to the place whence I have come.

In the first quarto this speech is lacking ; but Tanger ingeniously
finds 1. 493, " briefe let me be," and 11. 508 f. :

But soft, me thinkes
I sent the mornings ayre, briefe let me be.

"In this," Tanger says, "it is plainly shown that the ghost must
soon depart. Whence ? The German version says feebly and prosaic-
ally: 'to the place whence I have come.' If the German adapter
had been rendering a phrase which appeals so strongly to popular
belief as ' to sulphrous and tormenting flames,' would he have let it
pass ? " To this argument, though it might pass with the general
reader, any one who has the least knowledge of German adaptations
of English plays would deny the slightest weight. The most stirring
Elizabethan phrases were stripped away or perverted to base asso-
ciations— as we have already seen in the case of " To a nunnery
go! " — in order to meet the popular taste for crude and bloody tales
embellished with grotesque nonsense.

Two of the instances (15 and 17 *) Tanger explains as "mere coin-
cidences; and even such methods leave three of them untouched.
For instance, the German Ophelia, in that grotesque scene where, in
her madness, she chases poor Phantasmo (Osric) about the stage
with loving demonstrations, ends by saying: "Look there ! my little
coach, my little coach."3 Now the Ophelia of the second quarto
says: " Come, my coach" ;* but the Ophelia of the first quarto says
nothing of the kind. This, and the other two similar instances,

1 Shakespeare fakrb., XXIII, p. 234. 8 Act iii, sc. 9.

2 Ibid., p. 238. * Act iv, sc. 5, 1. 68.

The German Hamlet and the Earlier English Versions. 251

Tanger explains by the following elaborate hypothesis: The original
German version, being founded upon the garbled first quarto, must,
like that quarto, have been full of gaps. This fact would of course
have been patent later to any one familiar with the play as it was
acted, or with the second quarto. Now players were constantly pass-
ing back and forth between England and Germany; and some one of
them, distressed by the fact that the highly lady-like Ophelia of the
German version should be without her coach, supplied the coach
from his memory of the play, or of the second quarto !

Tanger's argument, in short, though it pretty clearly establishes
the scene relationship between the German version and the first
quarto, fails notably in explaining Creizenach's nineteen particular
instances ; and when Creizenach, in his learned and illuminating
work, Die Schauspiele der Englischen Komodianten^ still insists that
the German version was founded upon Y, the playhouse copy of the
perfect text of Hamlet, he is perhaps not to be blamed. Yet it is
clear that neither of the two arguments as a whole, superlatively
thorough and ingenious though both of them are, explains more than
half of the difficulties involved. We are therefore forced to look
about for a hypothesis which accounts for the scene relationship be-
tween the German play and the first quarto, and at the same time
for these nineteen troublesome instances.

Ill

The only other possible way to account for the German Hamlet
— setting aside, for the nonce, the ancient lost version — is to
suppose that it proceeded from the playhouse copy of the first of
two versions by Shakspere, — that is, the playhouse copy of A, the
first quarto. This playhouse copy would bear much the same rela-
tionship to the first quarto that Creizenach's Y bears to the second
quarto. The absence from the first quarto of the nineteen passages
that occur in both the German version and the second quarto would
then be easily explainable by the fact that the first quarto, which was

1 Berlin and Stuttgart, W. Speman [1889],

252 John Corbin.

pirated, was badly garbled in the process. Tanger, to be sure, denies l
that Shakspere made more than a single new version of the ancient
lost Hamlet. To refute his argument would carry me beyond my
present limits, but a summary of the assumptions it involves will,
perhaps, extenuate my omission. These are: (i) The pirates were
so heedless and illiterate as to debase the noble scenes of Shakspere
into the more archaic form of the first quarto. (2) In the process
of working over Shakspere's lines, however, they became sufficiently
careful and lettered to compose in a partly Shaksperian vein not
only the speeches and rhymed tags that do not turn up in the second
quarto, but also the entire scene between the Queen and Horatio,
which presents her in a radically different light from that in which
she appears in the second quarto. (3) The pirates were so careless
again as to transpose Hamlet's soliloquy and scene with Ophelia in
the manner already detailed (p. 248) ; and so careful again as to
transpose the passage in a way to make the action consecutive.
When Tanger read his paper before the Shaksperian Society, Dr.
Furnivall, having warmly praised its painstaking care, commented : 2
" The way in which Dr. Tanger jumps the fences in the way of his
theory excites my wonder. ... It 's steeple chasing rather than steady
going in the path of criticism." Dr. B. Nicholson likened it to
Punch. The fact that such critics, and in fact all leading English
scholars down to Mr. Israel Gollancz of the Temple Shakspere,8 dis-
countenance all of Tanger' s conclusions with regard to the Hamlet
versions would perhaps not be sufficient reason for doing likewise.
Yet ignoring for the moment his account of the proceedings of the
pirates, his main theory is not tenable until he has explained more
satisfactorily Creizenach's nineteen passages; and this, as we have
seen, he has failed notably to do. The conclusion is pretty plain
that, granting the German version to have been founded upon any
form of Shakspere's Hamlet, it was founded upon the playhouse copy
of his first version.

1 New Shak. Soc, Trans., 1880-86, pp. 109-202.

2 Ibid-, p. 199. * Hamlet, p. 9.

The German Hamlet and the Earlier English Versions. 253

IV

We are now at liberty to review Creizenach's and Tanger's reasons
for rejecting the only remaining hypothesis, namely, that the German
Hamlet was derived from the pre-Shaksperian Hamlet, now lost.

Creizenach's refutation of the minor arguments in favor of a
derivation from the lost play opens with the following remarkable
statement : ! " Denn falls dieser altere Hamlet nicht Shakespeares Werk
ware, hatte Shakespeare ein schamloses und doch von keinem seiner
Zeitgenossen geriigtes Plagiat begangen ; sein unbekannter Vorganger
ware einer der grossten Dichter gewesen. Die ganze Art, wie der
Stoff in die dramatische Kunstform gebannt ist, eine Fiille von
Einzelheiten, die von jeher von den Kritikern als Offenbarungen der
hochsten kiinstlerischen Weisheit bewundert wurden und von Rede-
wendungen, die uns entgegenrufen ' Ich bin Shakespeares' waren
alsdann, wie aus den entstellten Triimmern in D deutlich hervorgeht,
dem Anonymus zuzuschreiben." How Creizenach, basing his judg-
ment upon the " entstellten Triimmer in D " is able to give so
favorable a judgment, or, in fact, any judgment as to "die ganze Art,
wie der Stoff in die dramatische Kunstform gebannt ist," he does not
trouble to enlighten us. As for the statement that in working over an
older play by another author, however excellent the play may have
been in parts, Shakspere committed " ein schamloses und doch von
keinem seiner Zeitgenossen geriigtes Plagiat," it makes one sigh
for the liberty of speech of Dr. Furnivall and Dr. B. Nicholson. The
sober fact is that all but two of Shakspere's plays are known to be-
based upon some previous play, novel, or history. For an Eliza-
bethan playwright to appropriate the plot and even the language of a
predecessor was as much a matter of course as for a scholar nowa-
days to base his studies on the results of a previous worker in the
same field.

The fact that the German Hamlet has a Senecan prologue in which
Night and the Furies broach the argument, such as an early English
Hamlet would have been very likely to have, Creizenach explains 2
from his deep and thorough knowledge of the German drama. Such

1 Berichte, etc,, pp. 23, 24. Ibid., p. 25.

254 John Corbin.

prologues were only less common on the German stage than on the
English, and Creizenach argues ingeniously that this prologue was
adapted from a contemporary German play. Yet he ignores one
important fact, which Bernhardy pointed out,1 namely, that this
special prologue contains harsh, un-German constructions, savoring of
translation. This fact has of late received emphasis from Gregor
Sarrazin's learned, acute, and, in the main, convincing essay in his-
torical reconstruction, Thomas Kyd und sein Kreis? Sarrazin shows
with all but finality that the date of the lost Hamlet is 1588, and
that Kyd wrote it. He makes evident incidentally that Kyd was
uncommonly learned among the Elizabethan playwrights, and that in
his plays a more or less Senecan influence is everywhere discernible.
Now even before Sarrazin's essay appeared, critics, noticing that the
German prologue is distinctly superior to the rest of the play, likened
it to Kyd's prologue in which the Ghost of Andrea and Revenge pre-
sent the argument; and Sarrazin brings out many other instances in
which the old Hamlet was a companion-piece to The Spanish Tragedy.
In view of such evidence as this, Creizenach's statement that in Ger-
many prologues were often adapted from one play to another is far
from conclusive. Upon the question of the " Fiille von Einzelheiten
die von . . . den Kritikern . . . bewundert wurden," Sarrazin's
conclusions are significant. Kyd was no nameless poet, but one of
the best of the early Elizabethan dramatists. As for the imputed
plagiarism, Kyd had been dead some years when Shakspere took the
play in hand; and the play itself was doubtless the property of
Shakspere's company.

A number of minor* points brought out by Latham, moreover, to
which Creizenach does not even refer, gain weight from this essay of
Sarrazin's. (i) In the dramatis personae of the German play "the
males and females [are] mixed together, instead of the females being
arranged by themselves at the end of the list; and the order [is]
less regulated by the rank of the interlocutors than by the order in
which they appear on the stage ; though this is not adhered to with
the strictness of the classical drama." This fact, Latham points out,
indicates a more ancient origin than Shakspere's first quarto. Turn-

Var., II, p. 117. 2 Berlin, 1892. 8 Var., II, pp. 118, 119.

The German Hamlet and the Earlier English Versions. 255

ing now to the dramatis personae of The Spanish Tragedy, we find that
though the women are printed at the end, the men are in the main
arranged, as in the German Hamlet, in the order in which they
appear. (2) Hamlet says to Corambus (Polonius) : " When Marus
Russig was a comedian in Rome, what a fine time that was!"
Latham submits that Marus Russig is a German corruption for
Amerinus Roscius, that is, Sextus Roscius Amerinus. The actor
Roscius was surnamed Gallus ; but to confuse the two Roscii was
not unnatural, especially as Cicero delivered an oration in defence of
each. This blunder, Latham argues, " requires as much scholarship
to commit as to avoid," and certainly does not savor of the vulgar
German adapters. In the first quarto we find simply " Rossius."
The inference is that the blunder was made by the author of the lost
play — Thomas Kyd. (3) The passage where Prince Hamlet befools
Phantasmo (Osric) about the heat and cold is in a like predicament ;
it resembles the source of the jest, Juvenal, more closely than the
similar passage in either quarto. The Bragart Gentleman (Osric)
in the first quarto merely answers : " It is, indeede very rawish colde
. . . very swoltery hote," and proceeds to his errand. In the second
quarto, where the corresponding passage is virtually identical, all
stage direction, elsewhere abundant, is lacking. In the German
version we find :

Ham. . . . See here, Signora [sic] Phantasmo, it is terribly cold.

Phan. Ay, ay, it is terribly cold. {His teeth chatter. ,]

Ham. It is not so cold now as it was.

Phan. Ay, ay, it is just the happy medium.

Ham. But now it is very hot. \Wipes his face .]

Phan. Oh, what a terrible heat ! \_Also wipes away the perspiration.~\

Ham. And now it is neither really hot, nor really cold.

Phan. Yes, it is now just temperate \temperirf\.

This is by far the most literal rendering of Juvenal's satire (III, 100):

. . . igniculum brumae si tempore poscas,
Accipit endromidem ; si dixeris, aestuo, sudat.

Creizenach's explanation of the fact that particular beauties of
Shakspere fail to crop out in the German play — which oddly

256 John Corbiti.

enough treads on the heels of his eulogy of the dramatic structure
and poetic diction exhibited in its distorted ruins — is founded upon
the well-known fact that in the German versions of Dekker's Fortu-
natus, Marlowe's Faust, and Shakspere's Romeo and Merchant, the
poetic diction and richness of thought are as little evident as they are
in the German Hamlet. This argument is conclusive on the question
immediately in hand, but it points, nevertheless, to a fact which
makes strongly against Creizenach's general* contention : For the pur-
poses of the wandering comedians the old melodrama of blood would
have been more adaptable than Shakspere's refined tragedy.

That this earlier version was in fact exported is suggested by the
history of the only phrase of it remaining : " Hamlet, revenge ! "
This phrase, we are told,1 the old ghost " cried like an oisterwife."
Shakspere elevated it2 into that sphere of poetic dignity which the
Germans despised:

Ghost. If ever thou didst thy dear father love —

Ham. O God !

Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.

Now, in the brief German scene the word revenge occurs three times
to Shakspere's twice, and is given the position of distinction as
the last word the ghost utters. This treatment is exactly what we
should have expected from the " oisterwife " ghost. In Shakspere's
treatment the mention of revenge comes at the outset, and the climax
of the revengeful emotion is reached through the restrained and
stately eloquence of the ghost.

All this indicates, though it may not prove, that the German ver-
sion was derived from the lost play. If, now, it were so derived, we
might expect to discover in it some peculiar trace not in either
quarto of the Belief orest prose Hystorie of Hamblet, upon which Kyd
based his play. In the fifth scene of the third act Prince Hamlet
says to his mother :3 " Do you weep? Ah, leave off; they are mere
crocodile's tears [Crocodillsthranen]." This reads like a right Eliza-
bethan version of Belleforest's " sous le fard d'unpleur dissimule vous

1 Lodge's Wits Miserie, 1596. See Var., II, pp. 9-11.

2 Act i, sc. 5, 1. 25.

8 Pointed out by Creizenach, Berichte, etc., p. 30.

The German Hamlet and the Earlier English Versions. 257

couvriez Vacte le plus miserable" an expression which he derived from
Saxo Grammaticus. Shakspere's quartos are the first versions of
Hamlet in which there is no mention of weeping. Instead, we find
some of Shakspere's most vigorous phrasing: "an act That blurs
the grace and blush of modesty," etc. This point of identity
between the German play and the two prose versions of Hamlet,
•Creizenach, and after him Tanger, attribute to mere accident. To
my mind it is evidence, and, in view of the Elizabethan phrasing of
the German passage, strong evidence, that the German play was
founded on Kyd's Hamlet.

All these minor arguments, or as many of them as he was in a
position to consider, Creizenach waved aside as beneath respect.
With regard to Latham's main bit of evidence, however, he shows
some compunction. This evidence is Hamlet's allusion to Portugal
in the German play: *

King. We have resolved to send you to England. . . .
Ham. Ay, ay, King; just send me off to Portugal, so that I may never
come back again. That 's the best.

This, as Dr. Latham points out,2 is a pretty plain allusion to
Drake's famous attempt against Portugal in 1589, which, intended
as a counter expedition to the Armada, resulted almost as dis-
astrously as the Armada had done. Over half of the soldiers
engaged — eleven out of twenty-one thousand — and more than
two-thirds of the gentlemen who accompanied the expedition —
seven hundred and fifty out of eleven hundred — " never came back
again." In order to conceal this misfortune various false reports
were circulated, but the truth eventually became known. That
Kyd would have been likely to allude to the expedition is beyond
question. In The Spanish Tragedy, of which the first Hamlet was
no doubt the companion-piece, the pantomime of the ten English
Knights in Portugal and Spain must refer either to this expedition
or to the plundering of Cadiz in 1587.

This allusion to Portugal, Creizenach is forced to admit, would
deserve full respect " if it occurred in connection with other argu-

1 Act Hi, sc. 10. 2 Var., II, p. 119.

258 John Cor bin.

ments." He conjectures uneasily that an historian of Continental
Europe in the seventeenth century would be able to cite the event
to which it refers; for instance, the wars between Holland and
Portugal which lasted from 1580 to 1669.* In this case the come-
dians must have inserted the allusion during one of their many wan-
derings, in order to please a Dutch audience.

Tanger, however, though he finds himself quite ready to accept 3
Creizenach's statement that this bit of evidence is solitary, checks
at his explanation.3 He argues sensibly enough that the German
comedians were too clumsy to make historical allusions, and gener-
ally preferred to tell their anecdotes in detail. Nevertheless he per-
mits himself to conjecture : " Vielleicht war fur die Zeit der Abfassung
des ' Brudermordes ' [the German play] mit Portugal, wie heute
etwa mit dem Pfefferlande, die Idee einer.volligen, unwiderruflichen
Trennung (resp. Nimmerwiederkehr) verbunden; es verlohnte sich
wohl in der zeitgenossischen deutschen Literatur darauf zu achten." 4
If such allusions are not forthcoming, Tanger is for explaining the
passage by the supposition that it is one of the many instances where
Hamlet " nur ' simuliert.' " 8

Here again Creizenach is unable to accept Tanger's suggestions.6
He repeats his suggestion that the allusion is not to Drake's unfortu-
nate expedition, but to some event in the Dutch-Portuguese wars ; yet
lest we should be incredulous, he offers an alternative. Granting that
the allusion is to Drake, he conjectures that the English players in-
serted it in his Y. " Als Shakespeares Hamlet ca. 1600 die Bretter
betrat, war das Ereignis allerdings bereits iiber 1 1 Jahre alt, aber
doch wohl noch im Gedachtnis des Londoner Publikums lebendig
genug, um dem Schauspieler zu einem Hinweis darauf Anlass geben
zu konnen." In other words, the players, having neglected to allude
to Drake's expedition in due season, corrected their error when he
had been dead four years.

Two remarks in this discussion, however, stand luminously forth.
The first is that German actors were too clumsy for allusions of this

1 Berichte, etc., p. 28. * Ibid., p. 229. 6 Ibid., pp. 229-30.

* Jahrb., p. 228. * Ibid., p. 230.

6 Die Schauspiele der Englischen Komodianten, pp. 136-7.

The German Hamlet and the Earlier English Versions. 259

sort ; the second that Hamlet's reference to Portugal bears the air
of assumed madness. In other words, long after the quick come-
dians of London had abandoned the allusion, the Germans, to whom
it meant nonsense, retained it as such.

This case in favor of the lost play, it must be admitted, is not
final. Yet considering how small our base of operations is, it is
not so bad. Even with large portions of the texts they championed
before them, both Creizenach and Tanger have failed to avoid grave
difficulties. If the text of the lost play were forthcoming, the case
in favor of it could scarcely fail to be immeasurably strengthened.
And such as the case is, it stands almost as clearly in the way of
the playhouse version of the first quarto as it stands in. the way
of Tanger's A (the first quarto) and Creizenach's Y. It cannot be
made complete, however, without explaining how a drama which
was probably never printed could find its way to Germany. In
order to do this we shall have to consider the circumstances under
which actors travelled abroad.

That Elizabethan actors were driven to Germany by poverty, con-
sequent upon the overcrowding of the London stage, Cohn 1 has
made pretty clear by documentary evidence. The following peti-
tion,2 moreover, to Edward Allyn, the famous player and manager, —
which seems to have been granted, — shows that the comedians
departed with the aid and best wishes of their more fortunate
fellows :

Mr. Allen, — ... Sir, this it is, I am to go over beyond the seeas
w1 Mr. Browne and the company. ... I have a sute of clothes and a
cloke at pane for three pound, and if it shall pleas you to lend me so much
to release them, I shall be bound to pray for you so longe as I leve; for I
go over, and have no clothes, I shall not be esteemed of; ... hear I get
nothinge: some tymes I have a shillinge a day, and some tymes nothinge. . . .

Yor poor frend to command,

RICHARD JONES.

The favor here asked is certainly of more moment than the loan
of a play to be debased and distorted in a far distant country.

1 Shakespeare in Germany by Albert Cohn, 1865. 2 Ibid., p. xxviii.

260 John Cor bin.

The date of Jones's passport is "Xme jour de Febvrier, 1591," and
Cohn adduces abundant evidence1 that as early as .1586, which
is two years before the probable date of the lost play, actors, and
among them " at least one or two who attained a prominent position
on the London stage," Thomas Pope and George Bryan, were installed
in Germany. In a decree dating from the year 1586, Christian the
First, Elector of Saxony, declares that, among others, Pope and Bryan,
having been " a long time with the Royal Dignity of Denmark," are
" appointed and received" in his service (p. xxv). These men, Cohn
tells us (p. xxiii), were not only " acquainted with Shakespeare, but
also stood on an intimate footing with him." In such a state of
affairs, any play which was the property of Shakspere's company
might easily have been carried across and adapted to the German
taste.

The history of the Hamlet versions would then be as follows :
From Kyd's original play were derived two versions, — the earliest
German Hamlet and Shakspere's first version. Both of these are
lost. In place of the first German version we have its debased and
distorted descendant; and instead of Shakspere's first version we
have the garbled piratical quarto of 1603. This first version Shak-
spere rewrote, producing that form of the play which was printed
"according to the true and perfect coppie" in the quarto of 1604.
This is our best text of Hamlet. The folio edition, which gives
many various readings, does not concern the present discussion.
This theory explains all the "instances " brought forward by Creize-
nach, as well as the scenic relationship established by Tanger, with-
out violating any intrinsic probability.

JOHN CORBIN.

1 Shakespeare in Germany, pp. xxii et seq.

NOTES ON THE ANGLO-SAXON RIDDLES.

No. XII.

T^vIETRICH (Haupt's Zeitschrift, XI, 463) traces this riddle to
-Lv Aldhelm's De node (Opera, ed. Giles, p. 270). Outside of
the phrases ' caerula,' ' nigrantem corpore,' and ' gremio fusco,'
which may be said to correspond to ' hasofag,' there is no similarity
between the Anglo-Saxon riddle and Aldhelm's.

Trautmann's solution "wine" (Anglia, Beiblatt, V, 48) has much
in its favor. There are several correspondences between this riddle
and no. 28, the answer to which is undoubtedly "wine." No. 12,
1. 10 is almost identical with no. 28, 1. 12 ; 12, 6b is similar to 28,
13*; cf. also 12, y3 and 28, 17*. As for 12, 10 and 28, 12, it may
be said, however, that the same line occurs in Juliana (1. 120) and
a similar line occurs in Elene (1. 516). This makes it very probable
that the line was not the creation of any one poet, but belonged to
the common stock of epic formulae. The other correspondences are
of little importance.

I should like to suggest the solution "gold." The first two lines
would fit admirably (as to 'hasofag,' cf. Grein's Sprachschatz, II, 14).
LI. 3-8, though at first sight favoring Trautmann's solution, may
well be taken to describe the pernicious effect of gold and the love
of gold upon the mind of man. Cf. i Tim. vi, 9, 10 : "But they
that will be rich fall . . . into many foolish and hurtful lusts " (' dole
hwette unraidsfSas ').

L. 9, ' hdah ' refers to God ; ' horda de'orast,' " the dearest of treas-
ures," is the Word of God or the heavenly kingdom. This phrase
seems to be a disguised antithesis to the other treasure, which is not
' deorast,' but a fictitious treasure, *>., gold.

No. XVI.

Dietrich (Haupt, XI, 465) proposes the solution "badger," A.-S.
'brdc,' which is accepted by Prehn and others. Trautmann, in his

262 John A. Walz.

list of answers to the riddles (Anglia, Beiblatt, V, 46-51), puts a
question-mark after Dietrich's solution.

There are two points in this riddle which do not fit the descrip-
tion of the badger : the neck, or throat (' hals '), of the badger is not
white, nor is he a swift-footed animal. (For a description of the
badger, cf. Bell, British Quadrupeds, p. 128, and Brehm, Thierhben,
I, 268.) Now, as the badger is a common animal in England, we
may assume that his appearance and habits were well known to the
Anglo-Saxons. It is not likely, therefore, that the poet should have
made two serious mistakes in the description of this animal.

I should like to propose the solution "porcupine." This animal,
though not found in England in a wild state, was known to the
Anglo-Saxons by the name of 'se mara igil,' i.e., "the larger hedge-
hog." The name occurs in ^Ifric's glossary. Cf. also Bosworth-
Toller, s. v. igil. The porcupine is, generally speaking, not a swift
animal, but it is said to run with considerable speed at night. L. ia
is very appropriate, as the animal has a white stripe round the
throat. Cf. Brehm, Thierleben, I, 475 f. As regards 11. 3b and 4a,
it might be urged that they cannot refer to the porcupine, as its
spines do not resemble the bristles of swine. The Anglo-Saxon,
however, as his language shows, did recognize a resemblance :
the word ' byrst ' is used not only of the bristles of swine but of the
spines of the hedgehog (see Bosworth-Toller, s. v. igil; cf. also the
corresponding usage of the Latin seta and the traditional derivation
of voTpi£), and if used of the latter, there is no reason why it should
not have been used of the spines of the porcupine ; hence it may
well be said of the porcupine that it has ' her swylce sue.' x LI. 6-23
contain no contradiction, as the old-world porcupine is terrestrial
and fossorial.

In 1. 28, 'hildepflum,' which occurs again in no. 18, 1. 6, refers to a
weapon which is thrown. I believe this line contains an allusion to
the fabulous mode of defence, the " shooting " of quills, which the
porcupine is said to practice when attacked. This was known to
Pliny and has long been a popular belief: " Hystrices generat India

1 I accept Grein's emendation of 1. 4, as there can be little doubt of its
correctness.

Notes on the Anglo-Saxon Riddles. 263

et Africa spinis contectas ceu irenaceorum genere, sed hystrici lon-
giores aculei et, cum intendit cutem, missiles. Ora urguentium figit
canum et paulo longius iaculatur." (Hist. Nat., viii, 35, 53.)

No. XXVI.

Bouterwek proposed the solution "hemp" (Cagdmon, I, 310 f.).
Dietrich, in his first article on the Anglo-Saxon riddles (Haupt, XI,
467), pointed out that this solution fails to explain the closing half-
line, ' waet bi5 faet cage.' He proposed " onion " or " leek," and
paraphrased ' fegeS mec on faesten ' in 1. 9, " she puts me into her
mouth." In his second article, however (Haupt, XII, 240, n. 12),
Dietrich accepted Bouterwek's answer "hemp" after Lange had
explained the difficult phrase in the last half-line. LI. 9b-n are
made to mean "the hemp is pressed between the fingers of the
spinner " ; the " wet eye " is the small hole at the upper end of
the spindle which is moistened by the wet fingers.

This explanation, far-fetched and artificial as it is, cannot be cor-
rect. Trautmann (Anglia, Beiblatt, V, 49) proposes the answer
" hip," the fruit of the wild rosebush, but does not discuss the
riddle.

The simplest, and what I consider the correct solution, is " mus-
tard." One of the most striking qualities of this plant is its pun-
gency, affecting the eyes ; cf. the derivation of o-i'vaTns, — OTL a-fverai
TOUS coTras ev Tiy 68fj.fi.1 A riddle on the mustard in Simrock's Dcntsches
Ratselbuch, II, 84, brings out the same characteristic : " In meines
Vaters Garten stehen viele kleine Mannchen, und wenn du ihnen den
Hut abnimmst, musst du weinen."

If we now read the riddle with this answer in mind, it is easily
intelligible. L. 3b refers to the person picking the mustard, as
Dietrich has pointed out (Haupt, XI, 467) ; 11. 4-5* refer to the tall
mustard plant standing in the garden-bed; 11. 7-11 : "the woman
who dares to seize me, who tears off my head and presses me (1. 9,
'fe'geS mec on faesten,' 1. iob, 'mec nearwaS'), will have to suffer for
it : tears will start to her eyes ('waet brS J?aet e'age ')."

1 Pape, Griech.-Deutsch. Handworterbuch, s.v.

264 John A. Walz.

No. XXX.

" The being which carries booty between its horns is the moon,"
says Dietrich. The well-known pursuer is the sun, the booty is the
light which the moon steals from the sun at the time of a solar
eclipse, but which she has to yield up again to the pursuing sun.
In support of this Dietrich quotes the A.-S. Metro, of Boethius, iv, 10.

Dietrich's solution was doubtless suggested by the phrases 'hor-
num bitwe'onum' in 1. 2 and 'lyftfast Idohth'c" in 1. 3. It finds no
justification in any other part of the riddle.

Trautmann (Anglia, Beiblatt, V, 49) proposes " swallow and spar-
row." Assuming that the ' wiht ' in 1. i is the swallow, while the
' wundorlfcu wiht ' in 1. 7 refers to the sparrow, we should have to
conclude that the swallow is deprived of its booty and driven off by
the sparrow. This hardly corresponds to facts. It is well known
that the sparrow will sometimes drive the swallow out of its
nest (cf. Brehm, Thierleben, II, 193), but as the latter is so much
swifter than the former, it would be impossible for the sparrow to
overtake the swallow and deprive it of its prey. This solution,
moreover, fails to explain 11. 12-13*.

I should like to propose the answer "cloud and wind." L. 2,
' hornum bitweonum,' is a poetical expression referring to the form
of the cloud; 'hii6e' is the moisture. L. 3, 'lyftfast leohth'c,' ad-
mirably expresses the idea of a cloud moving in the sky ; Mdohtlfc'
is an epithet not inappropriate even for a rain-cloud. LI. 5 and 6
express poetically that the cloud wished to rest above the castle.
In 1. 7 the wind appears above the top of the wall. The emphatic
statement in 1. 8 compels us to assume a force of nature which alone
may truly be called 'eallum cii$ eorSbuendum.' LI. 9 and 10: the
wind snatches away the booty and drives the wandering cloud home,
then departs for the west still keeping up hostilities ('gewat hyre
west ]»onan fsehSum feran'). L. 12 expresses the result of this feud
between wind and cloud : dust rises and rain falls (' ddaw ' poetic-
ally used for rain) ; then night comes on (this makes the disap-
pearance of the wind all the more mysterious) and no man knows
anything about the journey of the wind. This last idea reminds us
of John iii, 8.

Notes on the Anglo-Saxon Riddles. 265

No. XLVI.

In connection with this riddle it may be well to bear in mind
Simrock's characterization of a certain class of German riddles
(Nachrede zum deutschen Ratselbuch, p. no). Dietrich first sug-
gested the solution "key," but decided at last in favor of "sheath."
The latter is clearly impossible, as it fails to explain 11. 4, 5a. The
former is adopted by Trautmann. Grein, Eibliothek, III, 14, trans-
lates 'hangelle' by "pendulum" and adds in parenthesis "mentula."
What I believe to be the correct answer was suggested to me by
F. Liebrecht's article in Germania, XXXII, 498 ; cf. also Getting.
Gelehrte Anzeigen, 1875, p. 474. It is a combination of Trautmann's
and Grein's solutions.

No. LIII.

Dietrich (Haupt, XI, 476) explains the two 'nepingas' as two
buckets suspended by a rope from the shoulders of a female slave.
According to 1. 5, however, the woman is nearer to one of the
' reepingas ' than to the other; therefore Grein (Germania, X, 308)
modified Dietrich's answer by making ' raeced ' refer to the well into
which the buckets are lowered, the one coming up as the other goes
down. It seems to me far-fetched to make ' raeced under hrdf sales '
refer to a well. I believe these words must refer to a house.

Trautmann first suggested "broom" (Anglia, Beiblatt, V, 50);
later he proposed " flail " (Anglia, XVII, 396 ff). The two captives
(' rsepingas ') are the handle and the swingle of the flail, which are
united by means of a thong ('gefeterade fasste tdgsedre'). The
' wonfah Wale ' is the woman who threshes. Trautmann's explana-
tion of 11. i and 2 is very peculiar. He construes ' raeced ' (1. i) as
dative without ending and takes ' under hrdf sales ' literally, *>., the
flail is raised up to the roof of the barn ("der dreschflegel wird
beim dreschen buchstablich unter dach, unter das dach der scheune,
gefiihrt"). According to this explanation 11. i and 2 have to be
translated : " I saw two captives in the house being raised up to the
roof of the hall."

While Trautmann's solution well fits 11. 3-7, it does violence to
11. i and 2. In the first place it spoils the parallelism in 11. ib and

266 John A. Walz.

2*. The parallelism in 11. 3* and 4*, 'genumne' and 'gefeterade'
Trautmann is very careful to restore, as it favors his solution.
Secondly, since the roof of the barn is so much higher than the flail
even when raised, it seems to me very forced to say, " der dresch-
rlegel wird buchstablich unter das dach der scheune gefiihrt."

I should like to propose the answer, " a yoke of oxen led into the
barn or house by a female slave." This solution renders unneces-
sary the juggling with the construction in 11. i and 2 ; it is equally
applicable whether we accept Thorpe's emendation 'genumne' in
1. 3 or whether we take the manuscript reading 'genamne ' (O. H. G.,
'ganamno') "having the same name" (cf. Grein, Sprachschatz, I,
433). The oxen are called 'rsepingas' because the yoke was often
lashed to the horns by means of ropes or thongs. The house into
which the oxen are led is assumed to be one of that type, still
common in Northern Germany, which comprises barn and living
rooms under one roof (cf. Henning, Das deutsche Haus, Qnellen und
Forschungen, No. 47, p. 26).

No. LXXIII.

Dietrich (Haupt, XI, 482) does not know what to do with this
riddle. He calls attention to Aldhelm's riddle " de loligine " {Opera,
ed. Giles, I, 18, p. 251) in which the Anglo-Saxon 'fleah mid fug-
lum ' is expressed by the words cum volucrum turma quoque scando per
aethera pennis. His explanation of this line is very curious : " The
cuttle-fish reaches the air only as product, -viz., as ink on the pen."
In his second article Dietrich says that nothing is as yet known
about the solution (Haupt, XII, 248, note 16).

I believe that this riddle is based upon Aldhelm's " De loligine,"
and that the answer is " the cuttle-fish." The clue to it we find in
Pliny, Hist. Nat., ix, 29, 45 : "loligo etiam volitat extra aquam se
efferens sagittae modo." A little later {Hist. Nat., 1. c.) we read :
" ambo autem [sc. loligo et saepiae] ubi sensere se apprehend! effuso
atramento quod pro sanguine his est infuscata aqua absconduntur."

The first quotation throws light on 1. 3% ' fle'ah mid fuglum,' the
second on 1. 4, 'ddaf under y6e dead mid fiscum.' Brehm1 states

Thierleben, III, 716.

Notes on the Anglo-Saxon Riddles. 267

furthermore, that the octopoda, which belong to the same family as
the cuttle-fish, usually live near the shore and are able to move
rapidly on land. This would explain 1. 5a, ' on foldan stop.'

As regards 11. i and 2, I am unable to find any authority attribut-
ing to the cuttle-fish double sex. Hermaphroditic animals were,
however, not unknown to mediaeval science ; cf. Dietrich's quota-
tions from Adrianus and Ritheus (Haupt, XI, 482). Pliny's obser-
vations on certain kinds of fish might also be mentioned : " piscium
feminae maiores quam mares, in quodam genere omnino non sunt
mares, sicut erythinis et channis, omnes enim ovis gravidae capiun-
tur" (Hist. Nat., ix, 16, 23). In view of such science there is
nothing improbable in the assumption that there existed a belief
attributing double sex to the cuttle-fish.

It is, therefore, highly probable that the poet, who displays his
knowledge of Latin on so many occasions, supplemented and modi-
fied Aldhelm's riddle with information drawn from Pliny and other
sources.

No. LXXVIII.

Dietrich proposed " falcon." This answer does not explain the
riddle. L. 8a, ' herges on ende,' points to a military expedition
rather than to a troop of hunters. L. 8b, 'heard is mfn tunge,'
would not be appropriate if referring to the falcon. LI. 9-1 oa
clearly express that the object deals out rewards to the singer and
not, as Dietrich states, that it is itself given as a reward.

The object must be some kind of weapon. Trautmann suggests
" spear." I should like to propose " sword."

L. i, ' eaxl-gestealla,' "shoulder companion," "bosom friend," is
used of those members of the comitatus who are nearest to the
leader (cf. Beow., 1326, 1714). Now, if we remember the intimate,
we might say personal, relations existing between the Germanic hero
and his sword, relations which are dwelt upon again and again in
the ancient epic poetry of the Germanic races, we cannot help seeing
in the ' eaxl-gestealla' the dearest companion of the man, viz., the
sword. The objection that a literal translation of the Anglo-Saxon
would favor the answer " spear," loses its force in view of the fact
that the literal meaning of Anglo-Saxon compounds is apt to fade

268 John A. Walz.

and to be replaced by a more general meaning. L. 6 refers to the
wooden sheath. This explanation is certainly less forced than to
make * )>aet on bearwe gewe'ox ' refer to the wooden shaft of a lance.
L. 8, the " hard tongue " is the point of the sword. This, too, seems
to me less forced than to assume that the poet would have called the
head of the lance 'heard tunge.' LI. 9 and 10 do not decide defi-
nitely in favor of either sword or spear. Both weapons were used
for presenting gifts. In the Hildebrandslied (1. 37), Hildebrand
places rings on his spear to present them to his opponent, while in
the Nibelungenlied, Hagen makes use of his sword to offer rings to
the ferryman (ed. Zarncke, st. 1589). — Both weapons, too, were
used in symbolical acts when the prince wished to confer land or
dignities upon his vassals ; the sword, however, more frequently
(cf. Grimm, Rechtsaltertumer, pp. 165-170, pp. 132-135 ; also Du
Cange s.v. investitura; J. Grimm, Kleinere Schriften, II, 199 ff). L.
n, 'salo,' calls to mind the passage in Bdowulf, 1. 2579, where the
edge of the sword is called ' briin.' Both words are glossed ' fuscus '

by Grein.
J JOHN A. WALZ.

VERBAL NOUNS IN -INDE IN MIDDLE ENGLISH AND
THE PARTICIPIAL -ING SUFFIX.1

THE occurrence in Middle English of verbal nouns ending in
-inde, -ende, -ande must have had more influence than has
been commonly thought in causing that confusion between the noun
suffix -ung, -ing and the participial suffix -ende which has resulted in
establishing the -ing suffix for the participle. As I hope to bring
out this fact more fully in a longer paper to be published later, I
simply give here a list of these nouns. This list is not yet complete
for the published texts of Middle English.

In La^amon's Brut (ed. Madden) there are seven -inde, -ende
verbals (I quote both the A and B texts) :

Nim hine &* 2 hi^inde

<&° sende hine to Man kinge, 15,608 (a line is wanting in B).

and swifte an hi^ende

senden heom efter, 5496 (an hi^inge B).

an hi^ende ful sone

to Tottenas heo come, 9748-9 (an hi3enge B).

Comen thz. tidinde

into Totintageol an hi^ende, 19,158-9 (an hi^enge B).

And ArSur him swende to

an hi^ende mid his sweorde, 26,053-4 (an hi^enge B).

1 This chapter is extracted from an unpublished thesis On the -ing Suffix in
Middle English with Special Reference to Participles and -ing Verbals presented to
the Faculty of Arts and Sciences of Harvard University, in 1896, in candidacy for
the degree of Doctor of Philosophy.

2 Madden conjectures "an hijinge." Cf. and hi^ende, 26,228 ; 6° hi^inge he
Mat sweord adroh, 8441 ; dr> hijinge hine igrap, 16,513; hit wes al isomned : <S°
Mere sereuunge, 8113. Several examples of a preposition ««</are given in Bradley-
Stratmann, some of which, I think, are not good cases. For A. S., see Grein,
Sprachschatz, s.v. aWpraep.; Cosijn, Paul and Braune's Beitrage, XX, 101.

270 W. P. Few.

th&e feng moni bond to

and hijende he wes ido, 26,227-8 (an hijeng B).

and bad hine an hih^ende

comen to Missen londe, 30,890-1 (wanting in B).

In Old English Homilies of the Twelfth Century, Second Series,
ed. Morris, E. E. T. S., No. 53, 1873, four -inde, -ende verbals occur :

And eft Mis worel[d] ebbeo'. T^tenne hit Mat tuderinde * wiS-tea'6 and
cumeS coSe2 oSer qualm. P. 177, 1. 22.

Tho ben Me fule tuderende of flesliche lustes and fule sinnes the flited
cure toganes Me wreche saule. 55, 9.

The Mridde is menende8 his synnes bifore gode. and milce Mer of
bidden. 65, 24.

For Mat welnehg ech man }ifeo" his almesse eio"er for godes luue. and
for hauende4 hereword. and for to ben wuro"ed fer and ner. 157, 23.

In the Bodleian MS. of The Life of Saint Catherine, ed. Einenkel,
E. E. T. S., No. 80, 1884, two -inde verbals occur :

ha iherde a swuch nuro"
towart te aweariede
maumetes temple,
lowinde of Met ahte,
ludinge of Me men,
gleowinde of euch gleo,
to herien &•* hersumin

hare hea^ene godes. Vv. 140 ff. The other MSS.
show -ing(e~), -ung(e).

1 " For tuderinde (?) read tuderinge " (Morris, Notes, p. 249). " (?) for tuderinge,
production " (Bradley-Stratmann).

2 A. S. ccftu, disease.

8 We seem to have here an -ende verbal followed by an object. This may be
due to the influence of the gerund in -ende preceded by to used instead of a gerun-
dial infinitive, a construction which is found fifty-three times in this collection of
homilies.

4 This construction might result from a confusion between to havende and the
infinitive after for, as in : Vor defendi is lond, Robert of Gloucester, 10,247 »
For for-^etene synnes, William de Shoreham, 41, 23.

Verbal Nouns in Middle English, 271

In Seinte Marhcrete, ed. Cockayne, E. E. T. S., No. 13, 1866, one
-unde verbal occurs. Elsewhere in this text the verbal ends in -unge
(never in -inge) :

Ihesu crist godes sune beo th\\ eauer mi gleo ant mi gledunde. 3, 9.

In the Ancren Riwle, ed. Morton, Camden Society, No. 57, 1853,
one -unde verbal occurs :

7$eo buh5 hire Met to his fondunde beieS hire heorte. 266, 13.

In the Laud1 MS. of Debate of the Body and Soul one -ende verbal

occurs :

Merci criende 2 lutel availede,

3wan Crist it wolde so harde wrac. 375.

Here we have an -ende verbal standing in a sort of loose composi-
tion with a noun, where in Modern English a gerund with an object
would be used. For three other cases, see the quotations from
the Ayenbite, p. 272, below. Such a use of verbals in -ing is rather
frequent in Middle English,3 and it is not surprising that -inde
verbals should also be so used. But, since the cases are so rare,
the usage may be an imitation of the Old French gerund. The
cases from the Ayenbite are translations of the Old French gerund,
t.nd the case from the Debate might also very well be due to contact
with Old French.4

1 Date about 1300 ; first printed in Wright's Latin Poems of Walter Mapes,
London, 1841, pp. 334 ff., and after Wright by Matzner, Altenglische Sprach-
proben, I, 92 ff.; also printed by Wilhelm Linow, Erlanger Beitrage zur Englischen
Philologie, I, 25 ff.

2 The Vernon MS. shows : " Merci crijinge luitel hym vayled " ; the Digby MS. :
Mercie cryyng litel auailed. See Linow, Erlanger Beitrage I, 99. The Auchinleck
MS. is different: Merci I he cri[e]d, and litel vailed. Ibid., 56. So the Royal
MS. : Mercy it cryed, but nouht it vayled. This MS. is printed by Varnhagen in
Anglia II.

8 See Kellner, Historical Outlines of English Syntax, § 416.

4 The oldest Old French version, Un samedi par nuit, has been printed by
H. Varnhagen, in Erlanger Beitrage, I, 120 ff. I do not find anything there that
might have suggested the phrase Merci criende, if that version had been known
to the author of the Debate. On the sources of the Debate, see Linow, Erlanger
Beitrage, I, 10 ff .

272

W. P. Few.

In The Metrical Chronicle of Robert of Gloucester, ed. W. A.
Wright, London, 1887, one verbal in -nde occurs :

to prouy hor bachelerye.

Some wiM launce &•» some with suerd. wiMoute vileynie.
WiM pleynde atte tables. oMer atte chekere. 3963 ff.

In Dan Michel's Ayenbite of Inwyt, ed. Morris, E. E. T. S., No. 23,
1866 (also Philological Soc., 1866), fourteen -inde -ende verbals occur,
— besides four doubtful cases and one -ende noun that is probably
borrowed from Old French. The Ayenbite is a very literal translation
of La Somme des Vices et des Vertus by Frere Lorens. The French has
not yet been printed entire. I quote it wherever it is accessible : *

Yef he zuereM uals be his wytinde : he him uorzuerM.2 6, 21.

Ac the ilke Met zuereM zoM be his wytinde and alneway uor na}t. oMer
uor some skele kueade . . . : zuereM 8 li^tliche. 6, 25.

And huo Met onworMeM his uader and his moder be his wytinde . . . :
zene^eth dyadliche. 8, 4.

Vor huo Met deM Merteyens be his wytinde : zen^eM dyadliche. 1 1, 22.

The zixte is to werri zoMnesse be his wytinde. 29, 19. Fr. : guerroier
verite a son4 escient (Eilers, p. 8).

Fol he is Met can Mane ri^te way and be his wytinde mysgeM. 94, 22.
Fr.: fous est qui set la droite voie e a son escient forvoie (Evers, p. 34).

1 Morris gives a few brief quotations from the French. Extracts are given by
H. Varnhagen, Englische Studien, I, II. R. W. Evers, Beitrdge zur Erkldrung u.
Textkritik von Dan Michel's Ayenbite of Inwyt, Erlangen, 1888, prints the French
corresponding to Morris, pp. 70-164 (omitting what Varnhagen had printed).
Eilers, Die Erzdhlung des Pfarrers in Chaucer's Canterbury-Geschichten u. die
Somme de Vices et de Vertus des Frere Lorens, Erlangen, 1882, prints numerous
extracts. An English translation of this dissertation is printed in Essays on
Chaucer, Chaucer Soc., Pt. V, pp. 501-610.

3 So Varnhagen, Engl. Stud., I, 387, reads, he remarking : " So das MS. anstatt
uorzuerrAfc bei Morris."

8 We should expect " zenejeAfc." The French is pecche and the Midland text
has "synne^/4." (See Engl. Stud., I, 387.)

4 In the two places where I have seen the French, be his wytinde translates
a son escient. The adverb wytindeliche occurs six times, translating, in the only
two places where I have seen the French, a escient.

Verbal JVoims in Middle English. 273

To-ayens Mise heste doM Mo Met misziggeM guode men behinde ham
be hire wytinde. and by kueadnesse. 10, 9.

Thz uerMe byeM the ualse plaiteres Met onderuongeM an sostinet Me
ualse causes be hare wytinde. 39, 33. Fr. : li faus auocat qui recoiuent e
soustienent les mauuaises causes a lor escient (Engl. Stud., I, 413).

huanne hi yeueM encheysoun uor to zene^y be hare wytinde. 47, 25.
Fr. : a son escient (Morris).

Met wors is : Met Mou hit onderuinge ine dyadlich zenne be Mine
wytinde. 20, 35.

and yeueM largeliche Me guodes of hare Ihordes wyM-oute hare wytende
and wyM-oute hare wylle. 37, 25.

In the following sentence onwytinde is possibly a noun :

The oMer bo} of auarice ys MyefMe. Met is nyme oMer ofhealde oMre
manne Minges wyM wrong and onwytinde1 and wyM-oute wylle of Me
Ihorde. 37, 3. Fr. : larrecin, ce est prendre ou retenir autrui chose a tort
et sanz seue e sanz volente du seignor (Eilers, p. 29).

Other -inde verbals in the Ayenbite are :

Voryet Mi body ones a day. guo in-to helle ine Mine libbinde : Met
Mou ne guo ine Mine steruinge.2 73, 17. Fr. : va en enfer en ton vivant,
que tu n'i voises en ton morant (Evers, p. 15).

1 Michel here has not made so literal a translation as he usually makes, unless
he took sanz seue to be a compound meaning "ignorant." This seems quite
likely in view of the fact that he commonly translated word for word, without
any regard to sense or the construction of his sentences : for example, he trans-
lates les poudres apres e poignanz de dure reprehension (Kvcrs, p. 57) by the
poudres efter-ward and prekiinde of harde wythniminge, 148, 21. Michel has
confused apres = &pres with apres=apres. The same mistake is found in 77, 5.
Again, he translates es autres (i. e. lois) a plait, en ceste a fat's, es atttres a parjur,
en ceste a amour (Evers, p. 33) by fne the othre to strif, ine thise to pays, etc.
(97, 17). He mistook a=il y a for the preposition and translated it by to, which
makes no sense. So also 35, 21.

2 Here we have a very instructive example of an -inde and an -inge verbal
standing side by side. The form steruinge here may be due to the occurrence of
the same form elsewhere, translating morir (see 95, 15; no, 31, and probably,
though I have not seen the French, 165, 3), whereas only the form libbinde is
found. Note also the use of offrende and offringe, ofringe ; also onconnynJchede
and onconynghede. See also the quotation from St. /Catherine, p. 270, above.

274 W. P. Few.

An -inde verbal standing after a noun in a sort of loose composi-
tion occurs three times in the Aycnbite, translating a French1 gerund
and object :

Ac Mer is anoMer lenere corteys. Met leneM wyM-oute chapfare
makiinde. alneway in hejinge. oMer ine pans. oMer ine hors. 35, 15.
Fr.: Mais il i a uns autres presteors cortois qui prestent sanz marchie
faisant toutes voies en attendant ou .en deniers, ou en cheuals (Engl. Stud.,
I, 405).

7%e vifte is ine ham Met be markat makinde : leteM hare benefices
oMer chongeM. 77* e zixte is ine ham Met be markat makinde : guoM
in-to religion. 42, 1 2. Fr. : en ecus qui par marchie fesant laissent lor
benefices ou eschangent. en ceus qui par marche fesant entrent en re-
ligion (Filers, p. 28).

There are two other cases of what seem to be -inde verbals in the
Ayenbite. The French is not accessible :

ssyneM ase sterren ine eurelestynde wy[M]-oute ende. 267, 27.

Thtr byeM tuaye manere benes on Menchinde ine herte Met me may
oueral bidde. an oMer ine speche of mouMe. 212,29.

The form offrende occurs once :

ase Me rentes. Mo offrendes.2 Me tendes. and Me oMre ri}tes of
holy cherche. 41, 19.*

In Trevisa's translation of Higden's Polychronuon, ed. Babington
& Lumby, London, Rolls Series, 1865-86, one -ynde verbal occurs :

wommen }eueM lyf and fedynde to kynges. Ill, 183. Caxton reads
fedynge ; MS. Y fedyng.

1 On the gerund in Old French, see Paul Klemenz, Der syntactische Gebrauch
des Participiiim Praesentis u. des Gerundiums im Altfrattzosischen, Breslau disser-
tation, 1884, and A. Slimming, Verwendung des Gerundiums u. des Participiums
Praesentis im Altfranzosischen, Ztschr.f. rom. Philol., X., 526 ff. For these refer-
ences I am indebted to Professor Sheldon.

2 Offringe occurs, 194, 30 ; ofringe, 229, 20. The form offrende is probably a
borrowing from Old French and is found elsewhere in Middle English. See
Bradley-Stratmann.

3 In onconnyndehede ("ignorance") 33, 10, and onconynghede, 40, 4, we have
to do with a participle, not a verbal noun in -ynde (-yng).

Verbal Nouns in Middle English. 275

There are also in Middle English verbals in ande:

Iwis, I wraMMed the nevere, at my witand (:fand: hand: sande).
Huchown's Pistel of Sivete Susan, 1. 250, ed. Koster, Quellen u. For-
schungen, 76. Cf. O. N. at varri witandi.

I have two cases from the English ballads, and there may be
others :

And when he came to the stable-dore,

Full still that hee did stand,
That hee might heare now Faire Ellen,
How shee made her monand.

Child Waters, st. 36; Child, Ballads, III, 87.
•

Forth he lad our comly kynge,

Full fayre by the honde ;
Many a dere there was slayne,
And full fast dyghtande.
A Gestof Robyn Hode, st. 388 ; Child, Ballads, V, 75.

The phrase in the waniand1 occurs in various places : 2

It was in the. waniand Mat thai furth went. The Poems of Laurence
Minot, p. 31, 1. 25, ed. Hall, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1887.

It was in Me waniand Mat Mai come Mare. Ibid., 33, 6.
In Me wilde3 waniand was Maire hertes light. Ibid., 15, 30.

The phrase is found frequently in the Mystery Plays. Without
pretending to make the list complete, I quote the following instances :

1 Halliwell, Dictionary of Archaic and Provincial Words, gives "waniand, the
wane of the moon," but cites no examples. The phrase in the waniand comes to
mean 'with ill luck." See Skeat and Hall, The Poems of Minot, Notes, p. 85.

2 Skeat, Etymological Dictionary, 2d ed. and Supplement, quotes some of
these cases, s.v. wanion. Skeat thinks " that waniand was taken to be a sb.
instead of a pres. part." See also Jno. G. R. McElroy, Modern Language Notes,
1887, No. 3, col. 1 20 ff., where Skeat's quotations are reproduced. But McElroy
is disposed to doubt the etymology of wanion suggested independently by Wedg-
wood (Phil. Soc. Trans., 1873-4, p. 328) and Skeat. For cases of the phrase with
a wanion, see the Century Dictionary.

8 Cf. Now in the wilde vengeaunce ye walke with that wight, York Plays, p.
291, 1. 545. See Hall, Minot, Notes, p. 85.

276 W. P. Few.

Jaa, and welde Mam in woo to wonne, in Me wanyand,
What browle Mat is brawlyng his brayne loke $e brest,
And dynge }e hym doune.

York Plays, p. 124, 1. 37, ed. Miss Lucy Toulmin Smith,
Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1885.

Nowe walkis on in Me wanyand,

And wende youre way wightely. Ibid., 319, 389.

We ! Whythir now in wilde waneand,

Trowes Mou I thynke to trusse of towne ? Ibid., 36, 45.

Furth in Me wylde wanyand be walkand. Ibid., 336, 485.

In the wenyand wist ye now at last,
Or els wille thou that I wynk ?
Towneley Mysteries, p. 13, 1. 17, Surtees Society, No. 3, 1836.

Who makys sich a bere? now walke in the wenyand. Ibid., 109, 8.

Step furthe, in the wenyande,

Wenys thou ay to stand stylle ? Ibid., 189, 29.

What, whistylle ye in the wenyande ! where have ye beyn ? Ibid., 241 , 32.

Weynde furthe in the wenyande,

And hold stylle thy clattur. Ibid., 257, 19.

The phrase is used once by Sir Thomas More :

He would of likelyhood binde them to cartes &* beate them <&•* make
them wed in the waniand. English Works, p. 306. William Rastall, Lon-
don, 1557.

W. P. FEW.

THE AUTHORSHIP AND DATE OF THE INSATIATE

COUNTESS.

EXTERNAL evidence as to the authorship of The Insatiate
Countess is not decisive, for although the first edition, which
appeared in 1613, bears the name of John Marston, the play is not
included in Sheares' edition of Marston's works in 1633 ; moreover,
one copy of the edition of 1616 bears no name, and one copy of the
edition of 1631 gives the play to William Barksted. This man was
the author of two poems, — Mirrha the Mother of Adonis, 1607, and
Hiren, or the Fair Greek, 1611 (both reprinted in Grosart's Occasional
Issues, 1875). Beyond the single fact that he was an actor from boy-
hood, practically nothing is known of him. Mr. Bullen suspects that
Marston left'the play unfinished when he entered the Church, and
that Barksted afterwards completed it.1 Mr. Fleay thinks 2 that
Marston wrote at least the comic part, and actually identifies Clari-
diana with Thomas Moffat; but, as Koppel has pointed out, this
identification is surely wrong, for the entire story is taken bodily
from Paynter's Palace of Pleasure, the major plot from Novel 24 of
Volume II, and the minor from Novel 26. Ph. Aronstein says : " Es
tragt durch und durch den Stempel von Marston's Geist, und muss
ihm zugeschrieben werden." 3 Emil Koppel says in substance that
" it will be easy to demonstrate the Marstonian authorship in every
nook and corner of the play by the vocabulary, figures, allusions,
and by the multitude of reminiscences of Shakespeare." 4 On the
contrary, I believe that the whole play, or almost the whole of it,
was written by William Barksted.

In the first place, The Insatiate Countess is very different from the
plays certainly by Marston in the tone of the comic plot. Marston's

1 Introduction to Marston's Works, London, 1887, p. li.

2 Chronicle of the English Drama, London, 1891, II, 80, 81.

8 John Marston als Dramatiker, Englische Studien, XX, 377 ff.
4 Quellen-Studien zu den Dramen Ben Jonson's, John Marston's, und Beau-
monfs und Fletcher's, 1895, P- 31-

278 Roscoe Addison Small.

comedies invariably have a flavor of bitterness ; every page, serving-
maid, fool is a satirist, and the Critic on the Stage towers above all
and satirizes all alike. In The Insatiate Countess, on the contrary,
the comic minor plot is used solely to amuse the groundlings by
bawdy jests. Even Lady Lentulus, the pattern of virtue, indulges
in ambiguous remarks, while Thais and Abigail are full of them.
(See, for example, ii, 2, i-ioo.1) Although Marston's fools are often
vile and his Crispinella "speaks broad" (Dutch Courtezan, iii, i),
his ladies are never sneakingly nasty.

Further, The Insatiate Countess is crowded with imitations of
Shakspere, sometimes extending to whole scenes, and referring to at
least nine of Shakspere's plays. I have noted eighteen unmis-
takable instances.2 Mr. Bullen says : " I know no play of this
early date in which Shakespeare is so persistently imitated or pla-
giarized." 3 Now, if we exclude a few well-known commonplaces
like " Do me right and dub me knight," Mr. Bullen has noted in all
Marston's works, including eight plays and two books of poems,
only twenty-one reminiscences of Shakspere. Although this number
could be considerably increased by careful observation, it would at
most be out of all proportion to the eighteen reminiscences in the
single play The Insatiate Countess. Further, of those twenty-one
allusions to Shakspere, ten,4 including all the most exact imitations,

1 All references to The Insatiate Countess and to Marston's plays are to act,
scene, and line in Bullen's edition of Marston ; references to Barksted's poems
are to Grosart's reprint ; those to Shakspere are to the Globe edition.

2 I. C., i, i, 62-68 : Ham., iii, 4, 55-62. I. C., i, i, 122-125 : Ham., Player's
speech. /. C., i, I, 132, 133 : Ham., i, 2, 180, 181. /. C., i, I, 148-150 : R. and J.,
i, i, 25-30. I. C., i, i, 270, 271 : R. andj., ii, 2, 65-68. /. C., i, I, 350-354 : Rich.
II, i, i, 62-66. I. C., ii, 3, 1-38 : A. Y. L., iii, 5, 109-139; iv, 3, 6-64. /. C., ii,
4, 29 : Ham., i, 2, 180, 181. /. C., ii, 4, 45-47: /. C., iii, 2, 80, 81. /. C., iii, i,
67-71 : R. and J.,\\, 2, 14-22. I. C., iii, I, 86-1 16 : Much Ado, iii, 3, i-ioi. /. C.,
iii, i, 128-130: Much Ado, iv, i, 75-90. /. C., iv, 3, 1-17: A. and C., ii, 5, 31-75.
/. C., iv, 3, 98 : /. C., ii, 2, 32, 33. /. C., iv, 5, ii, 12 : / Henry IV, i, 3, 60, 61.
/. C., v, i, 42-44 : Macbeth, ii, 2, 60. I. C., v, i, 85 : Ham., iii, 3, 88-90. 7. C.,
v, i, 170 : Ham., i, 2, 140-142.

8 Introduction to Marston's Works, p. 1.

* Malcontent, i, I, 105 ; 350-353 ; iii, i, 250. Fawn, ii, I, 212. What You Will,
ii, i, 127. Scourge of Villany, vii, I. Eastward Ho! iii, 4, 214; i, I, 15; ii, i,
114 ; iii, 2, 2.

The Authorship and Date of the Insatiate Countess. 279

are play-ends, clearly quoted in jest; such, for example, are "A
horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse ! " (What You Will, ii, 1,127)
and " Plots have you laid, inductions dangerous ? " (Fawn, ii, i, 212).
This leaves only eleven at all comparable to the eighteen plagiarisms
of The Insatiate Countess. It should be noticed that Barksted, in the
last stanza of Mirrha, expressly acknowledges Shakspere as his
master, at least so far as that poem is concerned. We see, then,
that the "multitude of reminiscences of Shakespeare," cited by
Koppel as proof that Marston wrote the play in question, is in
reality a very strong argument on the opposite side.

Thus far my arguments have in the main tended to prove merely
that Marston did not write The Insatiate Countess. We have, how-
ever, positive evidence that Barksted was the real author. Marston's
verse is virile, rugged, strenuous ; Barksted's is flowing, luscious,
fanciful. The style of the metrical portions of The Insatiate Countess
always partakes of the latter character; and in particular I have
noted no less than seventy-two passages, many of them a dozen lines
long, that show a prettiness of fancy and smoothness of versifica-
tion never attained by Marston, but eminently characteristic of the
style of Hiren. Such, for example, are the following :

Like to the lion when he hears the sound

Of Dian's bowstring in a shady wood, i, i, 346, 347.

I must have him,

Or, shadow-like, follow his fleeting steps.
Were I as Daphne, and he followed chase,
(Though I rejected young Apollo's love,
And like a dream beguile his wandering steps ;)
Should he pursue me through the neighbouring grove,
Each cowslip-stalk should trip a willing fall,
Till he were mine, who till then am his thrall, ii, i, 214-221.

Nor do we lack still further evidence — evidence, it seems to me,
absolutely conclusive. In spite of the fact that the two poems which
constitute the whole of Barksted's known work are so radically dif-
ferent in nature from The Insatiate Countess that one would suppose
that they offered no opportunity for direct comparison with the play,
I can cite no less than fourteen passages showing an astonishing

280 Roscoe Addison Small.

similarity in detail of thought and expression between The Insatiate
Countess and various stanzas of Hiren and Mirrha. One of the best
is unquotable (/. C., ii, 2, 95-99 ; Mirrha, p. 40) ; I give the others,
of which only the first has been hitherto noted.

I. Night like a masque is entered Heaven's great hall,

With thousand torches ushering the way. v, 2, 244, 245.

Repeated verbatim in Mirrha, page 21.

II. Nature's stepchildren, rather her disease, i, i, 129.

Repeated verbatim in Hiren, stanza 65.

III. Tastes our petulance (meaning "understands our whims"), iii, 4, 51.
Repeated in Hiren, stanza 83.

IV. Like Mycerinus cheating th' oracle *

We '11 make this night our day. v, 2, 247, 248.

Night like a prince's palace full of light

Illumined all the earth with golden stars ;

Here art crossed nature, making day of night. Hiren, 74.

V. Of his quick eye comes comet-trains of fire, v, 2, 1 70.
His eyes were stuck like comets in his head. Hiren, 64.

VI. I was the Indian, yet you had the treasure, iv, 2, 98.

The miser's god,
The Indian's ignorance. Hiren, 67.

VII. To fall more heavy to thy coward's head

Than thunderbolts upon Jove's rifted oaks, iv, 2, 47, 48.

When I have sinned, send, Jove, a thunderstroke,

And spare thy chosen tree, the harmless oak. Mirrha, 28.

VIII. By Cupid's bow I swear, and will avow,

I never knew true perfect love till now. iii, 2, 79, 80.

But by thy middle, Cupid's conjuring wand,

I am all love, and, fair, believe my vow,

He swears to love, that never loved till now. Hiren, 52. •

IX. And as Apelles limned the Queen of Love

In her right hand grasping a heart in flames, ii, i, 100, 101.
Like Venus, made her grasp a flaming heart. Mirrha, 30.

1 By night revels in a brilliantly lighted palace. Herodotus, ii, 133.

The Authorship and Date of the Insatiate Countess. 281

X. Here the sparks

Fly as in Aetna from his (Cupid's) father's anvil, ii, I, 115.
Cupid was born at Aetna, a hot sprite. Mirrha, 30.

XI. Thus on Eurydice

With looks regardant did the Thracian gaze, ii, 3, 103.

On her whom he (Orpheus) once lost
By a regardant look. Mirrha, 10.
XII. With odoriferous scents, sweeter than myrrh,
Or all the spices in Panchaia. iii, 4, 28, 29.
And on Panchaia there this nectar fell,
Made rich th' adjacent lands with odorous smell. Mirrha, 45.

XIII. What rarity of women feeds my sight ? iv, 3, 46.
Our pleasures, Protean-like, in sundry shapes
Shall with variety stir dalliance, iv, 4, 133, 134.
Such rarity of pleasure I do prove
In her enjoying, that my soul is fed
With that variety, to speak her truly,
Each night she gives me a new maidenhead. Hiren, 96.

Thus far we have seen no indication of Marston's hand in the
play. Koppel, however, thinks that the omission of the end of the
Lady Lentulus plot shows that Marston, taking the story from
Paynter, left it incomplete, and that Barksted, the reviser of the play,
being ignorant of the source of the tale, did not know how to finish
it. But it is almost inconceivable that Barksted either was not fa-
miliar with the Palace of Pleasure or did not have imagination enough
to end the story. It is altogether more reasonable to suppose that
the passage accidently dropped out in printing, particularly as the
whole play, like both of Barksted's poems, is in almost ultimate con-
fusion. Yet, although I can see no trace of Marston's hand in the
minor plot, it is possible that he had something to do with the play.
The subject of the tragic plot is just suited to his sombre bitterness.
The Countess herself is merely a Franceschina (the heroine of The
Dutch Courtezan} in high life. Indeed, some slight marks of Mars-
ton's work, not so much in style as in matter, seem actually to exist.
The ridicule of lovers (i, i) is characteristic of Marston;1 so is the

1 See What You Will, which opens in a similar way.

282 Roscoe Addison Small.

Masque (ii, i).1 Mizaldus may originally have been one of Mars-
ton's beloved Critics on the Stage. " This is conversion," he says,
" is 't not — as good as might have been ? He turns religious upon
his wife's turning courtezan. This is just like some of our gallant
prodigals, wh :n t) .y have consumed their patrimonies wrongfully,
they turn Capuchins for devotion " (ii, 3, 59-63) ; and in another
place Guide tells him : "Thou art like a base viol in a consort —
let the other instruments wish and delight in your highest sense,
thou art still grumbling" (i, i, 412-414). If Marston had any
share in the play, it consisted in drafting the tragic plot. That the
play as it stands, however, is Barksted's is proved by the lightness
and fancifulness of the verse, by the "multitude of reminiscences
of Shakespeare," by the character of the minor plot, and by nu-
merous very striking likenesses in detail to the undoubted works of
Barksted.

The Insatiate Countess is said by Langbaine to have been printed
in 1603, but this is doubtless a mistake ; for no edition earlier than
1613 exists, and the play (v, i, 42-44) contains a plain imitation of
Macbeth, which is usually dated about 1606. The title-page says
that the play was acted at Whitefriars ; and since Barksted is known
to have belonged to the Second Queen's Revels Company, which
acted there between 1610 and 1613, it is probable that The Insatiate
Countess was produced during that interval. The likeness in mass
and detail of style to Hiren, 1611, would suggest the same date.

ROSCOE ADDISON SMALL.

1 See Histriomastix ; Antonio and Mellida, v, I, where even the mottoes are
paralleled; Antonio's Revenge, v, 2; Malcontent, v, 3; Dutch Courtezan, iv, I ;
Fawn, v, i. But the masque is a commonplace in Elizabethan plays.

PN Harvard studies and notes

35 in philology and literature

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