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■"ORONTO
ilBRARY

v>^^

UNIVERSITY OF CINCINNATI

STUDIES

CONTENTS

1. Organization of Work by Louis Blanc. Translated from the fit'St edition

by Marie Paula Dickore, A. M.

2. Competitive and Monopoly Price. Frederick Charles Hicks.

3. Studies in Sophocles. Joseph Edward Hakry.

4. An Old Portuguese Version of the Rule of Benedict, lohn Miller Burnam.

Series 11, 1911, Vol. VII. ]Xv ^ [^ f

V ^ 1912

University of Cincinnati

Studies

Organization of Work

LOUIS BLANC

Translated from the First Edition by

MARIE PAULA DICKORE. A.M.

ISSUED BI-MONTHUY FROM THE
UNIVERSITY PRESS. CINCINNATI, O.

Merrick Whitcomb. Ph. D.

"h.

TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE

The author of this interesting Httle book, Jean Joseph Charles
Louis Blanc, was born far from the scene of his hfe work in
Madrid, October 29, 1811. ^ His father, Jean Charles, had suffered
by the Reign of Terror and fled to Spain where he served as
General Inspector of Finance under Joseph Bonaparte. He had
married Estella Pozzo di Borgo and their two children were
Jean and Charles. Soon after the family returned to France
during the Restoration, their circumstances became so straight-
ened that Louis was thrown upon the world to earn his own
way.

The pittance received from private lessons and clerking in an
attorney's office was not sufficient so Blanc accepted, in 1832,
a position as tutor in Arras in the family of a manufacturer,
Halette, who employed more than 300 workmen.^- Here Blanc
not only attended to his profession but made observations which
sowed the seed for his future career. He talked with the work-
men and studied their life and conditions ; he endeavored to teach
them and saw with pleasure how eager they were to educate them-
selves. Thus he had the opportunity of studying at close range
conditions which heretofore had been strange to him and which
now formulated in his mind the sketch for the interpretation of
life which he later enlarged upon and made such great use of in
his famous work.^

1. Various dates are given but I have accepted October 29, 1811,
on the authority of "Le Grande." Warshauer has October 28, while
among others D.aniel Sterne (Madame d'Agoult) Histoire de la Revo-
lution and Quack, De Socialisten, make a mistake of two years, giving
1813 as the year of Blanc's bii-th, Golliet gives still another, 1812.

2. Warshauer, Otto — Zur Entwicklungsgeschichte dee Socialiamue,
part III, pp. 237, Louis Blanc, Berlin 1903.

3. Golliet, {Louis Blanc, sa doctrine — son action, Paris, 1903),
claims that the difficulties which Blanc experienced before he went
to Arras turned his thoughts to reflections on and criticisms of the
social organization; also that Flauger^es, a friend and compatriot
of the Blanc family told Louis about his experiences in the world of
politics and thus laid the foundation of the ideas later developed by
Blanc.

Arras was not only the birthplace of his socialistic, but also
of his journalistic career, for two of his poems, Sur Mirabeau
and Eloge de Manuel, were awarded prizes by the Arras acad-
emy and local newspapers published other bits from his pen.
In 1834 he returned to Paris, wrote for various papers and finally
in 1837 became the editor of the Bon Sens. The impressions
received in Arras first came to light in this Bon Sens. He
pointed out the evil effect of free competition on the working
classes and went even so far as to devote a portion of his paper
to all working men's news. However, this happy labor was not
to exist long. Blanc disagreed with the publishers because they
were not in harmony with his ideas and the final break came
when he demanded that the building of railroads be conducted
by the state and not by private corporations.

This break, however, did not crush his dauntless spirit. In
1839 he founded the Refue du Progres, politique et litteraire, a
magazine appearing every month and in which he could give his
ideas free scope. He pointed out the corruption of the bour-
geoisie in France; violently attacked the rights of the nobility;
warmly recommended the introduction of equal suffrage and
made a plea for the proletarian and his material welfare.*- The
best product of this journalistic freedom was the series of articles,
appearing in 1839 which, receiving so much applause throughout
France, were published in pamphlet form, September, 1840.^- Of
this valuable article nine editions have appeared altogether, the
last dated April 15, 1850.

Although Blanc proved himself a writer of no mean ability
in his later productions (Histoire de dix ans, Histoire de la
Revolution frangaise), this Organisation du Travail is a little
masterpiece showing the author to be a clear thinker, a fine
idealist, possessed of a versatile, brilliant style with which to
clothe his arguments and illustrate them by animated depictions of
poverty and destitution. He set forth^- the evils inherent in the

4. Warshauer; pp. 239.

5. Many writers have said that the pamphlet was published in
1841 but my copy of the first edition is dated September, 1840.

6. Warschauer — The fundamental principle of the Organization
du Travail is: all free competition must be destroyed because it does
not combine harmoniously but disseminates the activities of each in-
dividual; being for the masses an unbearable condition of suffering
and being also the cause of the antagonism which necessarily must
exist between all producers and all consumers.

Blanc was certain that through free competition individual in-
terest grows into a rapacious craving and that in the pursuit of

social conditions and the sufferings of the laboring class, due to
insufficient wages, in order to demonstrate that a strict regulation
of labor is necessary ; for he held that individualism and free
competition will ruin both the laboring class and the bourgeoisie.
To this end he advocated the idea that the government should own
the greater industries and establish national workshops in which
each man would receive according to his needs and contribute
according to his abilities. The state would then, through self-
production cripple all other competitors and finally become the
only maintenance of society. Blanc was a defender of the right
of existence and an opponent of any income without work —
especially of interest on capital.

The little book created such a stir among the laboring classes
that the organization of work became the problem to be solved by
the February Revolution, 1848, and as Blanc was a member of the
Provisional Government, also president of the commission for
the discussion of the labor problem,"- it was decided to give his
plan a trial and National Workshops were established February
37, 1848. However, so many applied for work in these ateliers
that each one could work only about every fourth day though
receiving pay. Thousands of unemployed stormed Paris in search
of this Eldorado so that a halt had to be called on the great wave
of immigration of undesirable population by means of unfair
decrees, with the result that Blanc did not see his plans accom-
plished owing to mismanagement by those in charge and harsh
measures in reducing the number of applicants. As these ateliers
were purposely not planned and equipped at the start according
to Blanc's theories, they were a failure, brought about the
June insurrection, and caused Blanc's flight to England. His
scheme was not practicable in his day, for he was, like many
another genius, far ahead of his time ; he understood the ills of
society and saw a fit remedy of which, however, years of patient
application would be necessary in order to overcome the deep-
rooted evils.

Thus we see that Louis Blanc was the founder of this
national workshop theor}'^, but not the active leader in the revolu-

wealth he who amasses riches strides victoriously over the ruins of
others and builds up his own fortune out of the shattered fragments.
7. Much for the betterment of the working classes was really
accomplished by this commission,-; a ten hour day in Paris and an
eleven hour day in the provinces; abolished the "marchandage;"
settled strikes, abolished the competition of prison labor, etc.

tion of 1848, only the suggestive power. Though his practical
work failed, his ideas have lived on and have been adopted by
various bodies of socialists, especially the German school, which
reached its height in Karl Marx.

The years 1848-1870 Blanc spent in England where he wrote
his twelve volume History of the French Revolution. After the
fall of the Empire, he returned to Paris in 1870 and in 1871 was
elected to the National Assembly. He died at Cannes, December
6, 1882.

The ninth edition, 1850, is divided into four parts: Part I,
called Industry, contains the original material with many addi-
tions; Part II, Agriculture; Part III, Literary work, which ap-
peared as early as the fourth edition, 1845 ; Part IV, Credit, also
answers to many charges made against statements in the first
edition. Each part shows that its special branch of labor, too,
must be controlled by the State in order that Free Competition
may not bring about its ruin.

This study will set forth a translation of the first edition only.

I wish to express my great appreciation of the kind assist-
ance rendered by Adolph Ebel, Universitat Marburg, to whom
I am indebted for a copy of the rare first edition without which
I could not have made this translation ; to Miss Mary C. Gallagher
for a careful and critical reading of the manuscript ; to N. D. C.
Hodges, Cincinnati Public Library, Wm. H. Bishop, Library of
Congress, and Walter Smith, University of Wisconsin Library,
for the loan of valuable books. To Professor Merrick Whit-
comb, however, I owe the inspiration for this task and by inscrib-
ing this book to him I wish to express my sincere gratitude.

Marie Paula Dickore
Cincinnati, 1910

AUTHOR'S PREFACE

This work has been especially written for the Revue du
Progres in which it has been published serially.

Some laborers have thought that under the actual cir-
cumstances it would be good to give more publicity to it than was
possible through the circulation of the Revue du Progres.

The agitation shown in the last few days is the symptom
of a profound evil.

That the police might be concerned in the movement in
order to ruin it, is possible. But to make it depend solely upon
some foul tricks would be to slander without reason the people
of Paris.

The workmen of Paris do not rise to instigate civil war
but to demand justice. To confront them with millions of bayo-
nets is a childish and useless expedient.

Once again, the evil is deep rooted ; it demands a prompt
remedy. To find that remedy should be the mission of the power-
ful ; to seek it, the duty of every good citizen.

September, 1840.

CHAPTER I
THE ORGANIZATION OF LABOR

The institution of modern society rests principally on two
men, the one acts as a figure head, the other as headsman. The
hierarchy of the old school of politics begins with the king and
ends on the gallows.

When the workingmen of Lyons rose, saying, give us bread or
kill us, we were very much embarrassed by this demand. As it
seemed too difficult to support them, we strangled them.

By this means order was reestablished.

However, the question is to make up your mind whether you
are willing to try such bloody experiments,. How you would be
hated, should you decide on such a dangerous measure. Every
delay conceals a storm.

Is not all Paris in a state of excitement as I am writing these
lines ? Why these numerous meetings of laborers in the different
parts of the capital? Why these detachments of cavalry, which
patrol our boulevards in a menacing manner? But, God be
praised, this time the press is a little less excited. It has been
speaking of these agitations in the same serious manner as if the
journey of a princelet or a horse race were in question. Let us
take courage ! We are entering upon the way of progress. But
know well, gentlemen, where the first step leads. You speak of
solving problems? From today on a solution will be an -imperious
necessity. Moreover, what are we waiting for? Has the epic
of modern industry further mournful episodes to relate? The
recent unfortunate events in Nantes, the riot in Niemes, the
massacre in Lyons, the many bankruptcies in Milan, the em-
barrassments of all money-markets, the troubles in New York,
the rise of chartism in England, are not these solemn and for-
midable warnings abroad? Is it not because so many fortunes
are crumbling, because so much gall is mixed with the joy of
the rich, so much wrath swelling the heart of the poor man under
his rags?

I ask, who really is interested in the maintenance of the eco-
nomic conditions of today? No one at all; neither the rich nor
the poor, neither the master nor the slave, neither the tyrant nor

the victim. As for me, I am perfectly convinced that the suffer-
ing which is produced through an imperfect civilization is distrib-
uted in various forms over the whole of society. Let us look at
the life of the rich man; it is filled with bitterness. And why?
Is he not in good health? Is he no longer young? Are women
and flatterers wanting to him ? Does he doubt that he has friends ?
No, his misery is, that he has reached the end of his enjoyments,
his unhappiness is, that he has no further desires. The inability
to enjoy, as the result of satiety, that is the poverty of the rich
— a poverty without hope. How many of those whom we call
happy plunge into a duel because of a longing for excitement, how
many seek the dangers and toil of the hunt to escape the tor-
tures of idleness? How many, hurt through their sensitiveness,
suffer from secret wounds in the midst of an apparent happiness
and sink gradually below the surface of the general suffering,
side by side with those who throw life away like a bitter fruit;
those who cast it aside like a squeezed lemon ! What social dis-
order is not revealed by this great moral disorder ! What a severe
lesson to egotism, to pride, to every kind of tyranny that this
inequality in the means of enjoyment ends in the equality of
anguish.

To every poor person who is pale from hunger there is a
rich one who grows pale from fear. "I do not know," said Miss
Wardour to the old beggar who had saved her, "what my father
will do for our rescuer, but he will certainly secure you against
every want for the rest of your life. Accept for the present this
trifle." "That I may be robbed of it or murdered, when I wander
at nights from place to place," answered the beggar, "or at
least be in constant fear of it, which is hardly better. Ah ! and
besides, who would be fool enough to give me alms if he saw me
change a banknote?"

Admirable reply ! Walter Scott is in this not only a novelist
but he proves himself to be a philosopher as well as a socialist.
Who is the unhappier of the two, the blind man who hears the
begged coin ring in the cup which his dog guards, or the mighty
king who groans when a dower is refused his son?

If a thing is true philosophically is it any less true econom-
ically ? Thank God ! for society there is neither a partial progress
nor a partial decline. The whole society rises, or falls. When
justice is exercised, all have the advantage, when right is obscured,
the whole suffers. A people in which one class is suppressed

resembles a man who has a wounded leg. The injured leg pre-
vents him from using the good one. This sounds paradoxical,
the oppressor and the oppressed gain equally by the removal of
oppression; they lose equally by its maintenance. Do we want
a more striking proof of this? The bourgeoisie has built its
sovereignty upon free competition — the basis of tyranny; alas!
we see today the decline of the bourgeoisie through this free
competition. I have two millions, you say, my competitor has
only one ; in the arena of industry, armed with the advantages of
the lowest price, I shall certainly ruin him. Coward and fool I
Do you not see that some merciless Rothschild, armed with your
own weapons, will ruin you tomorrow ! Then, how could you
have the effrontery to complain? The large tradesman, in this
wretched system of daily struggles, has already swallowed up
his smaller competitor. What a Pyrrhic victory! For behold
this larger tradesman is swallowed up in his turn by the great
operator who, himself forced to seek new customers at the ends of
the world, will begin to play a game of chance, which, like all
games, will bring some of its players to crime, others to suicide.
Tyranny is not only hateful, but it is also stupid. No intel-
ligence can exist where there is no consideration for others.

Then let us prove:

1. That competition is for the people a system of ex-

termination.

2. That competition is an ever present cause of impover-

ishment and decline of the bourgeoisie.
When we have proven this it will be clear that we shall es-
tablish a solidarity of interests and that social reform means
salvation for all members of society without exception.

CHAPTER II

COMPETITION IS FOR THE PEOPLE A SYSTEM OF

EXTERMINATION

Is the poor man a member of society or its enemy? Answer
tliis! He finds the soil everywhere about him already occupied.

May he cultivate the land for himself? No, for the right of
the first occupant has become the right of possession.

May he gather the fruits which God has allowed to ripen along
the common highway ? No, for as the soil so the fruits have been
appropriated.

May he hunt or fish? No, for that is a right which the state

claims.

May he draw water from a well in a field? No, for the
proprietor of the field is, by the law of accretion,^ also the pro-
prietor of the well.

May he, dying from hunger and thirst, reach out his hand, be-
seeching the benevolence of his fellow-men? No, for there are
laws agamst begging.

May he, tired and without shelter, stretch his limbs out on the
pavement? No. for there are laws against vagabonds.

May he flee from his homicidal fatherland, which denies him
everything and endeavor to gain a livelihood far from his birth-
place? No, for he is permitted to change his place of abode only
under certain conditions, impossible for him to fulfill.

What then shall the unfortunate one do? He will tell you:
"I have arms, I have intelligence. I have strength, I have youth,
take them all and give me in exchange a morsel of bread." Thus
the proleta-ians speak and act today. But even then your an-
swer to the poor one is : *T have no work to give you." What do
you want him to do then? It is very clear that there are but two
horns to this dilemma, he can either kill himself or kill you.

8. "Accessio — A term of Roman law used to express the acquisi-
tion of property by an addition to former property, due to an ac-
cidental circumstance. If, for instance, a plot of land on the bank
of a river was increased by the gradual deposit of earth on the bank,
the property in the new piece of land was said to be acquired by
Accessio." Frorr Palgrave, R. H. Inglis, ed., Dictionary of political
economy.

The answer is very simple : ASSURE the poor man work.
Even with this there is certainly little enough done for justice, and
you are still a very long way from the reign of fraternity, but at
least you will have removed the necessity for revolt, and his hate
is deprived of its justification. Have you already thought of it?
When, in order to live, a man offers society his services and then
is forced necessarily to attack this same society in order not to
die of hunger, he finds himself, although apparently an aggressor,
in a state of legitimate defense, and the society which strikes him
does not judge him but assassinates him.

The question should be put thus: Is competition a means of
ASSURING work to the poor? To put a question of this kind,
means to solve it. What does competition mean to workingmen?
It is the distribution of work to the highest bidder. A contractor
needs a laborer: three apply. "How- much do you ask for your
work?" "Three francs, I have a wife and children." "Good, and
you?" "Two and a half francs, I have no children, but a wife."
"So much the better, and you ?" "Two francs will do for me ; I
am single." "You shall have the work." With this the affair
is settled, the bargain is closed. What will become now of the
other two proletarians? They will starve, it is to be hoped. But
what if they become thieves? Never mind, why have we our
police? Or murderers? Well, for them we have the gallows.
And the fortunate one of the three ; even his victory is only tem-
porary. Let a fourth laborer appear, strong enough to fast one
out of every two days ; the desire to cut down the wages will be
exerted to its fullest extent. A new pariah, perhaps a new recruit
for the galleys.

Can anyone assert that these conclusions are exaggerated, that
they are not possible in all cases in which the amount of work is
not sufficient for the poor who want to be employed ? I shall ask
for my part if competition contains in itself the means of doing
away with this murderous inequality. If one industry lacks labor,
who will vouch for it that in this immense confusion, caused by a
universal competition, some other industry does not suffer a
surplus of labor ? It would be sufficient to invalidate the principle
if only twenty men out of thirty-four millions were driven to be
thieves in order to live. Destroy these unhappy ones, I say, and
let civilization herself take vengeance upon them for the crime
which she has committed against them, but do not mention right-
eousness any more ; and since you refuse to judge your judges, to

overthrow your courts, raise a temple to violence and drape a veil
about the statue of justice.

Who would be blind enough not to see that under the reign of
free competition the continuous decline of wages necessarily
becomes a general law with no exception whatsoever? Has
population limits which it may never overstep? Are we allowed
to say to industry, which is subjected to the daily whims of in-
dividual egotism, to industry, which is an ocean full of wreckage :
"Thus far shalt thou go and no farther." The population in-
creases steadily; command the mothers of the poor to be sterile
and blaspheme God who made them fruitful ; for if you do not
command it, the space will be too small for all strugglers. A
machine is invented; demand it to be broken and fling an ana-
thema against science ! Because if vou do not do it, one thousand
workmen, whom the new machine displaces in the workshops, will
knock at the door of the next one and will force down the wages
of their fellow-workers. A systematic lowering of wages re-
sulting in the elimination of a certain number of laborers is the
inevitable effect of free competition.

It is nothing but an industrial process by means of which the
proletarians are forced to exterminate each other. Finally, in
order that the exacting people can not accuse us of having ex-
aggerated the colors of the picture, we give here in figures the
condition of the working class of Paris:

WORK OF WOMEN

Dailr Dead

Occupation

Wue* Sca»o C bterr.rion.

fr. e. Mo"rtis

Washerwomen

2 25

Borderers of shoes

Other embroiderers

1 50

Burnisher of metal

2 25

Cutter in a printing house

1 00

Veil cutter

Flower maker

1 50

Button maker

1 25

Candle maker

1 25

Dressmaker

1 25

Carder of buttons

1 25

Pasteboard worker

1 75

Tinter

1 25

Burnisher of porcelain

1 75

Burnisher of wood

1 25

Stocking weaver

Stitcher of straw hats

2 50

Cap maker

1 50

BlarViet maker

1 25

WORK OF WOMEN (Continued)

Daily

DeW

Occapation

Wage*

SeasoB

Obaenratioiu

fr. c.

Mondis

Assistant to goldbeater

1 25

Glove maker

1 50

Vest and pants maker

1 75

Linen seamstress in wholesale

houses

Milliner

1 25

Polisher of silver and enamel

2 25

Cotton winder

Polisher of compasses

1 75

Sorter of feathers

1 00

Shoe pinker

1 50

Gold driller

2 50

Tier of cotton threads

1 00

Presser

2 25

Dyer

2 50

Vermicelli maker

1 25

WORK OF MEN 9

DaUy

Dead

Occupation

Wages

SeaMB

ObaenratioDa

fr. c.

MsDthi

Gunsmith

3 00

Dresser of straw hats

4 00

Goldbeater

3 50

Butchers' boys

3 00

Baker

4 00

Harness maker

2 25

Gold trinket maker

4 00

Hat maker

4 00

Carpenter

4 00

The occupation of Car-
penter IS dangerous.

Pork butcher

1 00

Receive food.

Kettle maker

3 50

Tiler

5 00

Dangerous.

Shoe maker

2 50

Cartwright

3 00

Currier

4 00

Cutler

2 75

Carver (wood)

4 00

Confectioner

4 00

Compositor

3 50

Wood gilder

2 50

16 hour day.

Metal gilder

Dangerous on account of
the mercury.

Cabinet maker

2 50

Tinner

3 75

Type founder

3 50

Founder of copper

4 00

Dangerous.

Founder of iron

4 00

Each workman has 4 as-
sistants receiving about
2 50.

Blacksmith

4 50

Chimney sweep

4 00

Umbrella maker

3 00

Spectacles maker

3 00

WORK OF MEN (Continued)

Diily

Dead

Wase*

ScasoB

Obserratien*

0«cap«ti«B

fr. c.

Montbi
4

Maker of compasses

4 00

Glove maker

4 00

Watch maker

3 50

Printer

4 00

Printers on cotton

4 50

Box makers

3 50

Lithographers

3 00

Lamp maker

3 00

Cabinet maker

3 00

Furrier

2 50

Marble worker

4 50

Mason

4 00

Day laborers receive 2
Boys receive 2 40.

50.

Opticians

3 00

Goldsmith

5 00

Paver

4 00

Day laborers receive
2 25.

House painter

3 50

Carriage painter

2 75

Plumber

4 50

Porcelain worker

3 50

Passementrie worker

3 50

Wig maker

Bad food and dwellings

Book binder

3 00

Saddler

2 75

Locksmith

3 50

Cooper

3 00

Wood turner

3 50

Stone cutter

4 00

Clothing cutter

4 00

Chair turner

4 00

Dyer

3 50

Silk dyer

4 00

Paper hanger

4 00

Tanner

3 50

Varnisher

4 50

9, Author's note — ^We are indebted for these statistics, which we
have collected with great care in order that no one will be tempted to
accuse us of exaggeration, to Messrs. Robert, dyer, 60 Gravilliers
Street; Rosier, cane-maker, 33 Sainte Avoie St.; Landry, cabinet-
maker, 99 Faubourg St. Martin; Baratre, saddler, 17 Laborde St.;
Moreau, clerk, 16 Caire St.

Hovf many tears are represented in every one of these figures,
how many cries of anguish ! How many violent curses from the
depth of the heart ! This is the condition of the populace of Paris,
the city of science, of arts, the most brilliant capital of the civil-
ized world; a city, whose face shows only too truthfully all the
ugly contrasts of a highly praised civilization: beautiful boule-
vards and dirty streets ; brilliantly lighted stores and dark work-
shops ; theaters, in which there is singing, and dark hovels where

is only weeping; monuments for the conqueror and a corner for
the drowned, the Arc de I'Etoile and the morgue !

The attraction which these large cities have for the country
people is certainly a remarkable fact; these cities where every
moment the riches of some mock the poverty of others. Never-
theless, this fact exists and is only too true: industry is the op-
ponent of agriculture. A periodical devoted to the discussion of
the present social conditions recently published these sad lines
from the pen of a prelate, the bishop of Strassburg: "The mayor
of a little town told me: 'Formerly I paid my laborers three
hundred francs, today one thousand francs are scarcely sufficient
for the same work. They threaten to abandon our work and
go to the factories if we do not agree to pay high wages.' How
much will agriculture, the true wealth of a country, suffer under
such conditions ! Add to this the fact that when commercial credit
is unsound, when one of these business houses fails, three or four
thousand laborers are suddenly thrown out of employment, are
without bread, and fall a burden to the state. For these unfortun-
ates do not know how to save for the future ; every week sees the
fruit of their toil vanish. How dangerous, in times of revolution,
exactly when bankruptcies become more numerous, is the popu-
lation of starved workingmen, who are suddenly thrown from
recklessness into absolute want. They even lack the resource of
selling their labor to the farmers; they are. not accustomed any
longer to the hard work of the fields, their enfeebled arms have
no longer the strength for it."

Not enough, that the great cities are centers of extreme misery,
but it is further a fact that the population of the country is
irresistibly drawn towards these centers which engulf them. And,
as if to aid this wretched condition, is it not true that we are
building railroads everywhere? For these railroads, which in a
prudently governed society, represent an immense progress, are in
our own, only a new misfortune. They render desolate the places
where labor is lacking and heap up men in those places where
many are seeking in vain to get their little place in the sun ; they
tend to complicate the frightful disorder which they have intro-
duced into the laboring class, into the distribution of work and of
products.

We now come to the cities of second rank.
Dr. Guepin has written, in a little booklet, unworthy, I suppose,
of being placed in the library of a statesman, the following words :

"As Nantes takes the middle place between the cities of great
industries and commerce such as Lyons, Paris, Marseilles, Bor-
deaux, and the cities of third rank, the conditions of the laborers
are there perhaps more favorable than in any other place, it seems
to us that we can not select a better example to illustrate clearly
the conclusions to which we must arrive and to give them the
character of absolute certainty.

"No one who has not stifled ever>- sense of justice in himself
can without great sadness, look upon the immense inequality
which exists between the joys and sufferings in the case of the
poor laborers; to live, for them, means merely not to die!

"The workingman sees nothing more beyond the crust of bread
which he needs for himself and his family, nor beyond the bottle
of wine, which for a moment dulls the consciousness of his suflFer-
ings, neither does he hope for more.

"Do you want to know how he lives? Then step into one of
those streets where misery has huddled them together as the Jews,
in the middle ages, were crowded into the quarters to which the
prejudice of the people had assigned them. Stoop down if you
enter one of these sewers which open on the street and are below
the level of the pavement ; the air is .cold and damp, as in a cellar,
your feet slip on the slimy earth, you are afraid of falling into the
mud. On each side of the low hall and, consequently, under the
ground, you find a dark, large, cold room ; from the walls trickles
dirty water and only one window gives access to air, too small to
let the daylight enter and too poorly made to shut tightly. Open
the door and walk in, if the foul air is not too repulsive, but take
care, for the uneven floor is neither paved nor flagged, or else
the stones are so thickly covered with layers of dirt, that it is
impossible to see them. Two or three beds, worm-eaten and
shaky, held together with difficulty by pieces of rope ; a straw
mattress, a ragged cover, seldom washed because it is the only one,
perhaps a sheet and a pillow. Behold all that there is of the bed.
Wardrobes are not needed in these houses. A spinning wheel
and a loom sometimes complete the furnishings.

"On the other floor the rooms are a little drier, a little lighter,
but just as dirty and neglected. It is here, that, frequently with-
out fire, these men, during the long winter evenings, work by
the light of a flickering pine splinter for fourteen hours a day
in order to earn from fifteen to twenty sous.

«'

'The children of this class live in the dirt of the street up to
the moment when they are able to increase by a few pennies the
income of their family through tiresome and brutalizing work;
pale, swollen, their eyes red, bleared, so eaten away by scrofulous
humor that they can scarcely use them, you could believe they
came from an entirely different race than the children of the
rich. The difference between the adults of the suburbs and those
in the richer districts is not so evident — but a horrible process of
selection has taken place; only the strong fruits have developed,
while many fell from the trees before they were ripe. After
twenty years one is strong or dead. We could add many sad
instances, but the specification of expenses of this class of society
will speak a still more audible language.

Lodging for one family 25 francs.

Washing 12 "

Fuel 35 "

Repairing of furniture 3

Moving (at least once a year) 3

Shoes 13 "

Clothing (they wear old clothing given them)0

Medicine free

Medical attendance free

"If a family earns 300 francs per year, according to this, 196
francs will remain for the food of a family of four or five persons
who need,^^- with all privations, at least 150 francs for bread.
Forty-six francs remain to buy salt, butter, vegetables and pota-
toes, not to mention meat, the use of which is unknown. If you
consider, that the tavern calls for a certain sum, you will admit
that the condition of these families is horrible^ in spite of the fact
that a few loaves of bread are distributed from time to time by
charitable institutions."

We have proven with statistics to what excess of misery the
application of the cowardly and brutal principle of competition has
brought the people. But all this does not say enough. Misery-
begets something even worse ; let us go to the heart of this sad
discussion.

10. It is peculiar that so careful a writer as Blanc should have
permitted such an error to stand without comment. It could not have
escaped his notice that 89 francs from 300 francs leaves 211 francs,
but he did not correct it until a much later edition after his attention
had been called to the fact that a footnote was necessary.

The ancients said, Malesueda fames, "hunger is a bad counsel-
lor." A horrible and true saying ! But if crime is born of misery,
what engenders misery? We shall see directly. Competition is
just as fatal to the safety of the rich as to the existence of the
poor. For the one ceaseless tyranny, for the other a perpetual
threat. Do you know where the greater part of the unfortunates
come from who fill the prisons? From some great center of in-
dustry. The manufacturing districts furnish to the Grand Jury
double the number of accused that is furnished by the agricul-
tural districts. Statistics give on this point arguments to which we
have no reply. What are we to think of the present organization
of labor, of the conditions which are imposed on it, and the laws
which dominate it, if the galleys are recruited from the work-
shops? Consider, in heaven's name, the terrible words of M.
Moreau Christoph: "In the present condition of society, theft,
committed by the poor against the rich, is nothing but a repara-
tion, that is to say, the just and reciprocal transmission of a piece
of money, of a piece of bread, which returns from the hands of
the thief to the hands of the one from whom it is stolen."

"Thou art master of my money," said Jean Sbogar, "I of
thy life. This belongs neither to thee nor to mc, give it up and
I let thee go." And now, ye philanthropists, go and invent some
fine penal system. If you have found — with great trouble and
work — means and ways of educating the criminal, then want,
which awaits the prisoner when he steps out from our places of
correction, remorselessly throws him back to crime. The accounts
of the penitentiaries of New York show that one of every two
discharged criminals is confirmed in his evil life. Ye sagacious
physicians, keep the pest-stricken in the hospitals; to give him
freedom only means to throw him back into the arms of pestilence.
And where is the means to reform the criminal in prison? To
come in contact with an incorrigible rogue is fatal for one who
is- still susceptible to reform. For vice has its standard of honor
as well as Virtue. Shall we resort to isolation? What unhappy
experiences! In the state of Maine five out of eleven prisoners
condemned to solitary confinement became sick, two suicided, the
others became beastly idiots. This is the mortality of solitary con-
finement. You only have to look at the statistics. But what
is the good of a remedy which has been studied with so much in-
terest? Wait a moment and see what has been unquestionably
proven. The condition of our prisons ought to be better than

that of our workshops. Shall there be a premium on theft?
Society tells the poor : attack me if you wish that I should show
my solicitude for you! Does this not sound like a joke? Well,
this is anyhow the inevitable consequence of the industrial re-
gime, where every factory becomes a school of corruption-
Other fatal consequences : — We mentioned that from indi-
vidualism springs competition; from competition, fluctuation of
wages and their insufficiency. Having reached this point, we
come upon the next step, namely: the breaking of the family
ties. Every marriage creates increasing expense. Why should
poverty mate itself with poverty? The family gives way to
illegitimate union. Children are born to the poor, how shall they
be fed? This is the reason why we find so many of these un-
fortunate little creatures dead in dark corners, on the stairs of
lonely churches, even in the vestibules of the buildings where laws
are made. In order that there may be no doubt as to the cause
of infanticide, statistics prove that the number of infanticides
which are committed in the fourteen chief industrial departments
of France to those of the whole countr}' is in the ratio of 41
to 121.^^- The greatest evil is always found where industry has
chosen its field of action. Ought not the state step forth and
tell the poor mother: — I will take care of your children, I will
open orphan asylums for them. Should this not be sufficient?
No, it ought to go further, it ought to take away the reason
which leads to the system of sterility. We have erected found-
ling asylums, we have given motherhood, which relinquishes its
oflfspring, the benefit of secrecy. But who can now check the
progress of unlawful union after the temptation of lust has been
freed from the fear of burdens which it enjoins? Thus the moral-
ists cry out! Their assertion is substantiated by the heartless
statisticians, and their complaints are even louder. Suppress the
foundling asylums, suppress them, if you do not want the number
of foundlings to increase to such an extent that all of our united
resources cannot suffice to sustain them. The increase in the
number of foundlings since the erection of the asylums has been
remarkable indeed! January 1, 1784, the number of foundlings
amounted to 40,000 ; in 1820, to 102,103 ; in 1831, to 122,981 ; to-
day it has increased to 130,000.^^. ^he proportion of foundlings

11. Author's Note — See the statistics published by the Constitu-
tionel of July 15, 1840.

12. Author's Note — See the books of Mme. Huerne de Pommeuse,
Dnchatel, Benoiston de Chateauneuf.

in the last forty years has almost tripled. How is it possible to
check this great increase of misery? And what can we do to
evade the ever increasing burden of taxes? I am sure that mor-
tality ranges high in these institutions of modem charity; I am
assured that many of these infants who are turned over to public
benevolence, are killed by the keen air of the street as they come
from their hovels, or by the heavy atmosphere of the asylum ; it
is not new to me that many others die gradually from insufficient
food ; for, of the 9,727 nurses of foundlings in Paris, only 6,264
own A cow or a goat; I know further that many of the children
confided to wet nurses, die from the effect of the milk which
other nurselings bom in debauchery have poisoned,^^- yet even this
mortality does not, alas, relieve us of our burdens. And if we
ask now about the increase of taxes in figures, we find the ex-
penditures from 1815 to 1831 have grown ; Charente, from 45,332
fr. to 92,454; Landes, from 38,881 to 74,553; Lot-et-Garonne,
from 66,570 fr. to 116,986 ; Loire, from 50,079 to 83,492 f r. And
so on for the rest of France. In 1825 the Conseils Genereaux
voted an appropriation of 5,915,744 fr, and the end of the year
the deficit reached 230,418 fr. To make matters worse, the con-
ditions of health in the foundling asylums better themselves from
day to day ; the progress in hygiene becomes a calamity ! Great
God ! what conditions are these ! And once more, I ask, what
shall we do? Somebody has proposed that each mother who
wants to hand over her child to the asylum, be submitted to
the humiliating obligation of taking a policeman as her confessor.
Indeed a fine invention ! What can society gain when women
have learned not to blush any more? If every youthful indiscre-
tion shall have obtained its permit or if every act of libertinism
shall have received a passport, what will happen next? Then
through the necessity of this painful confession, the bridle will
soon lose its curbing power; women will be raised to shameless-
ness, chastity will be relegated to oblivion, when the state sets
its seal on the violation of all laws of modesty and decorum.
Then it would certainly be better to fulfill the wish of many,
and remove the foundling asylums. Impious demand ! True,
gentlemen, it is possible that you will find the taxes increased,
but we do not want the number of infanticides to increase. The
sum which burdens your budget horrifies you ! But, we say,

13. Author's Note — Philosophic du Buget by M. Edelstand
Dumeril.

that when the daughters of the people do not find in their wages
the necessary means of existence, it is no more than just that
you should lose on one side what you have gained on the other.
But is the family ruined through this? Certainly! See to it
that labor is reorganized. For, I repeat, the utmost misery, the
destruction of the family, is the consequence of competition.
Strange fact! that the advocates of this regime should tremble
at the shadow of each innovation and do not perceive that the
maintenance of this system throws them by a natural and irre-
sistible descent into the most audacious of modem innovations:
into Saint-Simonism.

The penning up of children in factories is one of the results
of the hideous industrial system. "In France, philanthropists
of Miihlhausen submitted a petition to the chamber saying,
children of all ages are employed in every cotton spinnery as
well as in all the other industries ; we found there children five
and six years old. The number of hours of daily work is the
same for young and old in the spinneries unless in a commer-
cial crisis — this number is never less than 13^ hours. Walk
through an industrial town some morning, and look at the people
who pour into the cotton mills ! There you will see the unfortun-
ate children, pale, delicate, starved, embittered, with dim eyes
and hollow cheeks, breathing with difficulty, their backs bent like
old men. Listen to the conversation of these children : their
voices are rough and heavy, as if clogged by the unclean vapors
which they are forced to inhale in the cotton factories." Would
to heaven that this description were exaggerated ! But these facts
are based on observations, collected by conscientious men and en-
tered in official reports. The proofs, moreover, are only too con-
vincing. M. Charles Dupin has laid before the Chamber of Peers
these facts ; that in the ten departements most given to industr^^ in
France, for every 10,000 men called to the army, 8,980 were feeble
or deformed ; in the departements given to agriculture, only 4,029,
In 1837, to get 100 men strong enough to endure the hardships
of war, it was necessary to reject 170 in Rouen; 157 in Nimes;
168 in Elboeuf ; 100 in Miihlhausen, i^- These figures show the
natural results of competition. In helping immeasurably to im-
poverish the workmen, we force them to find in their children
an addition to their wages. Wherever competition dominates, it

14. Author's Note — See the above cited statistics.

has been necessary to employ children. In England, for instance,
the greater part of the workshops are filled by children. The
Monthly Review, quoted by M. D'Haussez, estimates the num-
ber of laborers in the factories of Dundee who have not reached
the age of 18 to be 1,078 ; but of these the majority are under 14 ;
a great number under 12 ; some younger than 9 years, yes, even
6 or 7 year old children were employed.

If we accept the statement of the Ausland, quoted by
M. Edelstand Dumeril, the consequences of this terrible burden
on childhood are as follows : — amongst 700 children of both sexes,
picked at random, in Manchester, we found among the 350 not
employed in factories 21 sick, 88 in poor health, 241 in full
health ; while of the 350 children working in factories, 75 were
sick, 154 in poor health and only 145 in full health.

A system which forces the fathers to exploit their own chil-
dren is a homicidal one. From the moral point of view can we
think of anything more disastrous than to employ both sexes in
factories? It means to inoculate the children with vice. Can we
read, without horror, of the eleven-year old boy whom Dr. Cumins
treated in a hospital for s>^hilis? And what conclusion shall we
draw from the fact that the age in the English house of refuge
averages eighteen years ! We might multiply these sad proofs ; in
Paris for 12,607 women inscribed on the register of prostitutes
the cities furnish 8,641 ; and all belong to the artisan class. M,
Lorain, professor at the College Louis le Grand, has compiled
a report as sad as it is remarkable, concerning the conditions of
public schools in the kingdom. After minutely enumerating
the odious victories of industry over education and its influence
on the morals of children, he adds, that France is on the verge
of being infected by the customs which have gained root in Eng-
land, where, as a table of statistics in the Journal of Education
has proven, in four days 144 children have frequented low dives.
How is it possible without a reorganization of labor to stay
the rapid decay of the population? By laws which regulate the
employment of child labor in factories. This is now being tried.
In France, the philanthropy of the law-makers is so great that
the Chamber of Peers fixed the age at which a child may be
made a part of a machine at eight years. According to this law,
overflowing with love and charity, a child of eight years shall
not be compelled to work longer than eight hours; nor a child
of twelve years longer than twelve hours per day. This is only

a plagiary of the "Factory Bill." And what a plagiary! But,
after all, this law must be obeyed; but how can it be possible?
What shall the law-makers answer the unhappy father, who says
to them : "I have children of eight and nine years ; if you shorten
their time of work, you diminish their wages. I have children
of six and seven years, but no bread to feed them ; you forbid me
to send them to work, do you want me to let them starve?" The
fathers are unwilling to shorten the hours, you cry out. Is it
possible to force them? And on what law, on what point of
justice should such a violence be based in the face of poverty?
Under this law we cannot respect humanity in the child without
outrageously insulting it in the father.

The Courier Frangais has lately admitted that this is a very
serious difficulty; I readily believe it. Thus you see there is no
remedy possible without social reform. Thus under the sover-
eignty of competition labor will bequeath to the future a genera-
tion decrepit, deformed, rotten, half gone into decay. O, ye
rich ones, who will die for you in war? You must have soldiers!
But upon this annihilation of physical and moral capabilities
of the sons of the poor, closely follows the annihilation of their
intellectual faculties. Thanks to the imperious demands of the
law, there are in every locality elementary teachers, but the nec-
essary means for their support are granted everywhere with a
shameful stinginess. Yet this is not all : not long ago, in travel-
ling through the most civilized provinces of France, workmen
whom we asked why they did not send their children to school,
answered ever\- time, that they sent them to the factories in-
stead. Through personal experience we verified the truth of this
generally acknowledged fact, which can also be read in the re-
port of M. Lorain, a member of the University, who says liter-
ally : — "Wherever a factory, a spinnery, an arsenal, a workshop is
opened, you may close the school." What economic condition is
this in which we find industry in a strife with education? And
what success can a school show under such an economic condi-
tion? Go to the villages and see who are the teachers. Some-
times they are released convicts, vagabonds and adventurers, who
pretend to be schoolmasters ; sometimes half-starved teachers who
like to exchange the plough for the ferrule and teach only be-
cause they have nothing better to do. Almost everywhere children
are penned up in damp, unhealthy rooms. Yes, even in horse
stables, where they profit at least in winter by the warmth which

the animals give out. There are villages where the teacher keeps
school in a room which serves him at the same time for kitchen,
dining room, and bed-room. If the children of the poor receive
an education at all, it is thus handicapped, and still these are the
privileged ones. These details, let me emphasize again, are given
by the official reports. Those writers who pretend that the people
ought to be educated, say that without education no improvement
is possible, that reform must begin there. The reply is very sim-
ple ; if the poor man has to choose between school and work, his
choice will not be doubtful for a single moment. A strong argu-
ment speaks for the factory which secures its preference; in
school, the child is taught, but in the factory, paid. In this way
under the reign of competition, the intelligence of the poor is
stifled when they have scarce left the cradle; their hearts are
ruined, their bodies are destroyed. Threefold sin, threefold
murder I

But a minute's patience, dear reader, I am soon at the end
of my sorrowful evidence. It is an incontestable fact that the
growth of population is considerably more rapid amongst the
poor than the rich. According to the Statistique de la civilization
europcenne, the birth rate in the better districts of Paris is only
■5*^ of the population, while in the poorer it is ^V- This dis-

proportion is a general fact and M. de Sismondi explains it very
well in his work on political economy because of the impossibility
of the day laborer to either hope for anything in the future or
to provide for the future. Only he who knows himself master
of to-morrow, can regulate the number of his children to his in-
come ; but he who lives from hand to mouth, subjects himself
to the yoke of a mysterious fatality, to which he consecrates his
progeny, because he himself has been consecrated to it. On the
other hand, the asylums threaten society with an inundation of
beggars. What remedy is there against this plague of the coun-
try ? Yes, if pestilences were only more frequent, or peace would
not last so long! For, in the present economic condition, anni-
hilation is the simplest remedy ! But wars are becoming less and
less frequent; cholera lets us wait so long; where shall all this
end? And what shall we finally do with our poor? It is evident
that any society in which food does not keep pace with the birth
rate, is tottering on the edge of an abyss. France is in just such a
situation. M. Rubichon, in his book entitled Soci^il Mechanism,
has proven this frightful truth beyond any doubt. It is true,

poverty kills. According to Dr. Villerme, out of 20,000 individ-
uals born at the same time, of whom 10,000 are among the rich
and 10,000 among the poor, 54 per cent of the former and 62 per
cent of the latter died before they reached the age of forty years.
The number of people at the age of 90 years is in the rich district
82 and in the poor, 53 to 10,000 inhabitants. Vain remedy ! This
frightful remedy of death. Misery brings into existence more
unhappy ones than it permits to reach maturity. Once more,
which side shall we take ? The Spartans killed their slaves ;
Valerius had the mendicants drowned, in France certain laws were
passed in the sixteenth century condemning them to the gibbet. ^^
We can take our choice between these just punishments ! Why do
we not embrace the doctrine of Malthus ? Oh, but Malthus has not
been logical, he has not carried his system to its logical conclusion.
Let us adhere to the theory of the Livre du Meutre, published in
England, February, 1839, or better still, to the pamphlet written
by Marcus, of which our friend Godfrey Cayaignac has given an
account, in which it is proposed to suffocate all children of the
working classes after the third one, conditional damages being
paid to the mother for this patriotic deed. . You laugh? But it is
a serious book which gives these proposals, written by an author-
philosopher. Whole volumes of commentaries have been written
about it, the most important writers of England have discussed
it, and finally condemned it with indignation for its hideous cruelty
— and it is not at all a ridiculous book ! It is a fact that England
has no right to laugh at these blood-thirsty follies, this same Eng-
land which found herself forced by the principles of competition
to another immense extravagance to the poor-tax. Will our
readers permit us to recommend to their meditations a few lines
taken from E. Bulwer's book : — England and the English:

"The independent day-laborer can buy with his wages only
122 ounces of food a v/eek, including 13 ounces of meat.

"The healthy poor, who becomes a burden to the parish, re-
ceives 151 ounces of food per week, including 21 ounces of meat.

"The convict gets 239 ounces per week, including 38 ounces
of meat."

In other words, the material condition of the convict in Eng-
land is more favorable than that of the recipient of charity, and his
position is again better than that of the honest laborer. That is

15. Author's Note — See the author? cited by M. Edelstand
Dumeril in his Philosophie du Buget, vol. 1, pp. 11.

monstrous, is it not? Well, it is only a necessity. England has
laborers, but not so many as inhabitants. But as they can only
choose between the maintenance of the poor or their annihila-
tion, the English law makers have decided for the first; they
did not have as much courage as Emperor Valerius, that is all.
It only remains to ascertain if the law makers of France, in the
face of all this, considered in cold blood the terrible consequences
of the economic regime which they borrowed from England. I
insist upon this point ! Competition breeds misery ; and this fact
IS proven by figures. Misery is dreadfully prolific, this fact is
proven by figures. The fertility of the poor throws unfortunates
into society who ought to work, but who can not find work;
this fact is also proven by figures. Once arrived at this point,
society cannot act otherwise than to kill the poor or to feed them
free! Cruelty or madness!

CHAPTER III

COMPETITION IS THE CAUSE OF THE DECLINE
OF THE BOURGEOISIE

I could stop here. A society like the one I have just de-
scribed is in peril of civil war. What does it matter that the
bourgeoisie congratulates itself that lawlessness has not yet reached
its heart, when anarchy already lies threatening at her feet. But
does not the reign of the bourgeoisie harbor in itself all elements
of an early and inevitable dissolution ?

Cheapness is the big word which, according to the school
of economists of Smith and Say, embraces all benefits of free
competition; but why do we stubbornly refuse to take into con-
sideration the results of cheapness and its relation to the momen-
tary usefulness which the consumer derives from it? Cheapness
benefits only those who are consumers, while it sows amongst
the producers the seeds of destructive anarchy. Cheapness is
the bludgeon with which the rich producer fells the less fortunate.
Cheapness is the trap into which the bold speculators lure in-
dustrious workingmen. Cheapness is the death sentence of the
manufacturer who is not able to advance the money for a costly
machine which his wealthy rival is able to have. Cheapness is
an ambush in which monopoly lies in wait; it is the death-knell
of the small industry, for the small trade, the small property ; io
one word, it is the destruction of the bourgeoisie in favor of an
industrial oligarchy.

Shall cheapness be condemned altogether? Nobody will
dare to suggest such an absurdity. But it is the peculiarity of
false principles that they change good into evil and corrupt all
things. In the system of competition cheapness is only a tem-
porary and apparent benefit. It is only maintained so long as the
combat is raging; as soon as the stronger has overcome all his
rivals, the prices rise. Competition leads to monopoly for the
same reason that cheapness leads to exorbitant prices. Thus
that which has been an instrument of war, used by the producers
amongst themselves, becomes now — sooner or later — the cause
of impoverishment for the consumer. Combine all these causes
with those which we have already enumerated, first of all the

unregulated increase of the population, and we shall have to
accept the fact that the impoverishment of the masses of con-
sumers is an evil which is the direct result of competition.

On the other hand, this competition, which aims to dry up
the sources of consumption, forces production to a destructive
activity. The confusion resulting from the general conflict of
interests, takes away from the single producer the knowledge of
the state of the market. Groping in the dark, he is dependent on
chance alone for the sale of his products. Why should he curb
his production as long as he can make up his losses in the excep-
tionally elastic wages of his laborers? We see daily that manu-
facturers continue the work, although at a loss, because they do
not want to diminish the value of their machinery, their tools, their
raw materials, their buildings and furthermore not lose their cus-
tomers, and because they — like the gambler, do not care to lose
the possibility of a lucky winning in industry, which, under the
domineering power of competition, is scarcely anything else than
a game of chance.

Therefore we cannot often enough insist upon this result,
that competition forces production to increase and consump-
tion to decrease ; thus it goes directly in opposition to the reason-
able purpose of economic science; it is at the same time oppres-
sion and madness.

When the bourgeoisie rose against the old power and saw it
sink to the ground under its heavy blows, it declared that these
old powers had been stricken with blindness and ignorance.

Well, today the bourgeosie is in the same position, for it
does not perceive how its own blood flows nor how it is tearing
at its vitals with its own hands.

Yes, the economic order of today threatens the property of the
middle class, as it has also destroyed in a cruel manner the prop-
erty of the poor.

Who has not read of the lawsuit to which the fight between
the Messageries franqaises and the Messageries toy ales and the
Afessageries La/ittc and Caillard had given cause? What a law-
suit ! How it laid bare all the weak points of our economic con-
ditions. And yet this lawsuit passed by practically unnoticed.
They have paid less attention to it than they would have given to
any commonplace parliamentary debate. The most astonishing
thing, the most incomprehensible in connection with this lawsuit
is the fact that nobody drew the conclusion from it which it

naturally offered. What was it all about ? Two companies were
accused of uniting to destroy a third one. This created a great
disturbance. Law had been violated, that protecting law which
in order to prevent oppression, prohibits coalitions whose
purpose is to prevent the oppression of the weak by the strong.
Is this not a most wretched condition? What! The law for-
bids him, who possesses 100,000 fr. to consolidate with another
who has 100,000 fr. against some one who has just as much, be-
cause this means the unavoidable destruction of the latter, and
this same law permits the owner of 200,000 fr. to wage war upon
him who has only 100,000 fr. Wherein lies the difference between
these two cases? Is it not here as there the war of the greater
capital against the lesser? And is it not always the fight of the
strong against the weak ? And is this fight not always an odious
warfare because of its inequality ? What a contradiction ! One of
the lawyers pleading in this celebrated case said: "It is permis-
sible for any one to ruin himself in order to ruin others." The
statement is true under present conditions and is found to be
very correct. THAT IT IS PERMISSIBLE FOR ANY ONE
TO RUIN HIMSELF IN ORDER TO RUIN OTHERS ! ! !

What do the present statesmen think and expect when they
cry out convinced of the imminence of the peril as did lately the
Constitutionnel and the Courrier Frangais:

"The only remedy consists in driving this system to the ex-
treme, to throw down everything that opposes its complete devel-
opment; in short to complete the absolute freedom of industry,
through the absolute freedom of commerce." What! is that
a remedy ? Do you call the enlargement of the field of battle
the only means of avoiding the misery of war? What! are there
not industries enough which ruin themselves ; will you add to this
lawlessness the incalculable complications of a new means of
destruction? This is the road that leads to chaos.

We can less easily understand those who imagine that any
mysterious combination of two opposite principles would be pos-
sible. It is a very poor idea to try to graft association on com-
petition, this would be about the same as if we should take
hermaphrodites to replace eunuchs. The association is a progress
only when it finds universal application. In the past few years
we have seen many profit-sharing societies develop. Who does
not know their scandalous histories? If one individual fights
against another individual, or one association against another

one— it is always war, always a reign of violence which makes
use of deceit and tyranny with hypocrisy. What else is the
association of capitalists amongst themselves? Here are the
laborers, who are not capitalists, what are you going to do with
them? As associates you reject them, do you wish to make
enemies of them?

Do you mean to say that, the extreme concentration of per-
sonal property, neutralized and lessened by the principle of divi-
sion of inheritances and that the power of the bourgeoisie, if
destroyed by industry, can be reestablished through agriculture?
What an erroneous idea! The excessive division of real estate
must, if we do not take care, lead us back to the reconstruction
of the great landed estate. We seek in vain to deny this; the
parcelling of soil, small proprietorship, the spade instead of the
plow, dull routine, labor unaided by science. Parcelling of soil
deprives agriculture of machinery as well as of capital. Without
machinery there is no progress; without capital no stock. How
can — under such circumstances — small farms endure the com-
petition of the larger ones without being absorbed? The result
has not yet been shown, because minute division of land has
not been carried out to its farthest limits. But have patience!
See what is happening in the meantime ! Every small proprietor
is a day laborer ; for two days in the week he is his own master,
the other time he is the slave of his neighbor. And if he ever
has the wish to enlarge his property, he steps so much nearer
to complete servitude. And thus it happens that the farmer, who
owns only a few acres of poor land, which barely brings 4 per cent
if he works it himself, can seldom withstand the temptation to
enlarge his property if he has a chance. He takes a mortgage on
it at 10, 1.5 or 20 per cent. For if there is no credit in the country,
usury steps in and takes its place. The results are evident ! The
figures in France of real estate indebtedness amount to 13
thousands of millions. This does not mean anything else but that
side by side with those capitalists who become captains of industry,
a handful of mere usurers start up who try to make themselves
m.asters of the land. Thus the bourgeoisie advances towards
dissolution in the cities as well as in the country. From all
sides it is threatened, its position undermined, and its existence
destroyed.

To avoid commonplaces and cheap truths I have not mentioned
the horrifying moral corruption with which industry in the

present order, or better, disorder, has harrassed the bourgeoisie.
Everything has become salable and competition has invaded even
the domain of thought.

Thus factories ruin trades ; commercial houses absorb the
modest little ones; the tradesman, who is his own master, is re-
placed by the day laborer who is not his own master ; cultivation
by means of the plow gives way to the spade ; and the field of the
poor falls under the shameful control of the usurer; failures of
business houses become more numerous ; industry is transformed
through the poorly regulated extension of credit to gambling in
which the gain is assured to no one, not even to the scoundrel.
Finally this vast disorder which is created especially to awaken in
the souls of every one jealousy, suspicion and hatred, and by and
by to stifle all nobler feelings and to dry up all scources of faith,
devotion, and poetry, this is the despicable but too truthful pic-
ture of the results due to the application of free competition.

We have borrowed this wretched system from the English.
Let us see at a casual glance what this system has done for the
glory and prosperity of England.

CHAPTER IV

COMPETITION CONDEMNED BY THE EXAMPLE

OF ENGLAND

Englishmen say that capital and labor are by nature two
antagonistic powers ; how can we force them to live side by side
and aid one another? For this there is only one remedy; the
laborer must never lack work ; the employer, on the other hand,
should always find — in the ready market for his product — the
means to pay work accordingly. Does not this solve the problem ?
Who will have the right or the heart to complain in case produc-
tion should finally become active and consumption finally elastic !
The wages of the one will always be sufficient, the profit of the
other always satisfactory. Let us then, open the doors of the in-
finite to human activity, nothing will limit its enthusiastic flight.
Let us proclaim "laissez faire" honestly and without restriction. Is
England's production not sufficiently varied to afford commerce
a larger career? Well, we shall find sailors and construct ships
which will give us the commerce of the world. Do we live on
an island? Well, then, our ships give access to all continents.
Is not the amount of raw material produced by our country too
limited? Very well, then let us seek raw materials at the end of
the world. All nations will become consumers of the products
of England, which will work for all people. To produce, al-
ways to produce and to solicit other nations by every means to
induce consumption, is the work which the power of England
will employ. This will make her rich ; this will develop the genius
of her sons.

A gigantic plan! A plan "almost as egoistic as absurd, and
still one which England, for two centuries, has followed with
incredible perseverance ! Oh, surely, to be shut up on a little, not
very fertile, foggy island, and to go forth from there one day to
conquer the universe, not with soldiers but with merchants, to
send thousands of ships to the East, to the West, North and South,
to teach hundreds of countries the use of their own treasure, to
sell America the products of Europe, and Europe the riches of
India; to bind all nations to her existence and to fetter them in
some way to her girdle by the innumerable ties of a world-span-

ning commerce ; to find in gold the power capable of balancing
the sword, and in Pitt the man capable of making the audacity of
a Napoleon hesitate ; and in all this is a quality of greatness, which
dazzles and astonishes the mind.

But what has England not dared to accomplish her end ! Up to
what point has she not pushed the rapacity of her hope and the
madness of her pretentions. How has she conquered Issequibo and
Surinam', how Ceylon and Demerary, how Tobago and St. Lucia,
how Malta and Corfu — enmeshing the whole world in the im-
mense network of her colonies? We know how she has settled
herself in Lisbon since the time of the Methuen Treaty, and by
what aburse of power she has founded in India her commercial
tyranny; side by side with the sovereignty of Holland, mixed
with the debris of the colonial structure erected by Vasco de
Gama and an Albuquerque. No one denies the damage which
her cupidity has imparted to France ; every one knows by what
strategems, by what perfidious instigations she has always known
how to drench the Spanish colonies in America with blood. What
shall we say about the violence by which England has secured
the empire of the sea for so long? Has she ever respected the
rights of neutral countries or even acknowledged them? Has the
right of blockade as exercised by England not become the most
arrogant of tyrannies ? And has she not made the right of search
the most odious of all brigandage? And what is the purpose of
all this? Only to have — let us repeat it — raw materials for the
manufacturer and to serve her customers. This thought has been
the dominating one in England for two centuries, that in her col-
onies the culture of articles of food, such as rice, sugar, coffee,
were neglected, while to the culture of cotton and silk a feverish
attention was given. But why? While England put exorbitant,
and we might say homicidal, duty on the importation of food
stuffs, she opened to all raw materials her ports almost free of
duty, a monstrous anomaly, which induced M. Rubichon to say,
"Of all the nations of the world the English have worked most
and fasted most."

To this leads a merciless political economy of which Ricardo
has so complaisantly announced the premises and of which Mal-
thus has drawn with the utmost sano^froid the horrible conclu-

sion.

This political economy carried the germ of vice in itself,
which will render it fatal to England and to the whole world.

It advanced the theory that nothing was of importance but to
try to find consumers ; it was necessary to add, solvent consumers.
But how dare they awaken a wish, without the possibility of
its fulfillment? Could we not foresee that England, while sub-
stituting her activity for the activity of those nations whom she
wished to have as her consumers, must end with the destruction
of these people, because she closed for them the source of all
wealth, namely, labor? Could England pose exclusively as the
producing nation and hope at the same time that her wares would
find a continuous market amongst the peoples that became ex-
clusively her consumers? This hope was evident madness. The
day will dawn when the English will perish from prosperity by
causing the others to perish from poverty. The day will dawn
when the consuming nation cannot find raw material in exchange ;
and what will this mean to England? The glut of markets, the
ruin of numerous factories, the misery of the whole mass of
laborers, the universal destruction of credit.

In order to know how far the carelessness, the folly of pro-
duction goes, we need only to search the history of England's
trade and commerce. At one time English merchants sent to
Brazil, where they had never seen ice, v^hole ship loads of
skates ;^*"^- at another time, Manchester exported to Rio de Jan-
eiro^*"^- more wares in one week than they have used in the last
• twenty years. Everywhere production in using her sources of
help in an exaggerated way, cripples her activity without ren-
dering herself account of the possible consumption of her pro-
duction.

But again, to cause a nation to entrust to another the care
of developing elements of labor which it possesses, means to
gradually take away the capital and to impoverish it, and con-
sequently to make it more unfit for consumption, as it can only
consume that for which it is able to pay. The general impov-
erishment of other nations which England has needed in order
to have her products consumed, is the vicious circle in which
England has been moving for the past two centuries ; this is
the mistake, the deep, incorrigible error of her system. Thus
(we insist upon this point of view because it is the most import-
ant), England has brought herself to a strange position, unique
in history ; to bring about for herself two equally effective causes

16. Author's Note — 1. Mawe, Travels in Brazil.

2. ibid.

of ruin, the one in the work of the people, the other in their
inertia; this labor creates competition for her which she cannot
always conquer ; their inertia, takes from her her consumers with-
out whom she cannot get along.

This has already happened on a small scale, but inevitably
will happen on a larger one. What losses has not England
already sustained because her products have grown with a greater
rapidity than the articles which the other nations would exchange
for them? How often has England not produced, after many
warnings, the results of which have cruelly punished the ex-
travagance of overproduction. We cannot so soon forget the
great crisis, which terminated in the English intrigues in the
countries lying between Mexico and Paraguay. Scarcely had
the news reached England that a field had been opened for in-
dustrial adventures in South America, when all hearts beat im-
mediately with joy, and every brain was excited. All heads were
turned. The production in England was never in such a parox-
ysm of frenzy. If the speculators were to be believed, only a few
days and a few ships were necessary to transport all the im-
mense wealth which America possessed to Great Britain. The
confidence was so great, that the bankers hastened to coin money,
hoping to have the first returns. And what was the result of
this great movement? They had calculated on everything except
the existence of articles of exchange and the facility of trans-
porting them. America kept her gold, which they could not ex-
tract from her mines ; that country, which had been devastated
by fire and sword, had nothing to give in exchange for the mer-
chandise brought to her — neither cotton nor indigo. England
knows as well as Europe what this great mistake has cost her
both in millions and in tears!

Let no one say that we drew the conclusions from the ex-
ceptions to the rule. The evil we have pointed out has given rise
to all the evils in its train. For, while England exhausted herself
colonially in incredible efforts to render the whole universe tribu-
tary to her industry, what spectacle has her inner history oflfered
to an attentive observer? Workshops succeeded workshops, the
invention of to-morrow succeeded the invention of yesterday;
the furnaces of the North ruined by those of the West; the
laboring population increased beyond all measure under the stimu-
lus of a limitless competition ; the number of cattle, which as
food of man, fell far behind the number of horses, which men

were obliged to feed; the bread of charity replaced, little by
little, the bread of labor ; the poor-tax was introduced and served
to increase poverty. In short, England presented to the sur-
prised and indignant world a spectacle of extreme misery, hatched
under the wings of extreme opulence. Such are the results
due to a public policy which is based on the principle of national
egotism : England had to seek consumers everywhere and at
any price.

And to obtain these horribly disastrous results, how many
injustices had England to commit, how often to encourage trea-
son, to sow discord, to foment wars, subsidize iniquitous coali-
tions and combat glorious ideas !

I do not wish to go any further, I will try to end this sad
history, so that no one can accuse me of wanting to insult the
strong old English race. No, I can and will not forget that
England, in spite of the evil which she has done to the world and
to my country, can claim for herself, in the history of nations,
many immortal pages; that England, before all other peoples
of Europe, has been visited by freedom, that her laws, even under
the yoke of an overbearing aristocracy, have rendered sincere and
solemn homage to the dignity of mankind ; that from her bosom
came forth the wildest but also the most powerful cry that was
ever raised against the tyranny of the papacy, united with that
of the inquisition ; that she is even to-day the only country which
the furies of political life have not rendered inhospitable and
fatal to the weak. For there, at least, you found an asylum,
you poor noble exiles, unconquered but wounded champions ;
there you reassembled the remnants of your fortunes, there you
found the life of the soul and intellect, perhaps the only thing
which the rage of our enemies left you in your great disaster.
And from there you followed the thoughts of a people who were
as unhappy, as much in exile, as you ; for had they not to search
for their fatherland, though they lived in its midst, but alas ! could
not recognize it in its degradation?

In addition England has made full expiation. There is,
says a new writer, a penal code for the nations as well as for
the individual. This truth has been grieviously proven in the
history of England. Where is her power to-day? The empire
of the seas eludes her. Her possessions in the Indies are threat-
ened. Not so long ago the English Lords almost held the stirrup

of the victor of Toulouse, whom they dared no longer call the
victim of Waterloo.

And what has become of the English aristocracy, the most
vigorous and. most splendid of the world? Who are, indeed, her
leaders? Is it Lord Lindhurst, the son of an obscure painter,
or Sir Robert Peele, the son of a cotton manufacturer, created
Baronet by Pitt? Or Lord Weliiugton, this feeble offspring of
the Irish race and the bourgeoisie of the Wellesley's? These are
the- heads of the English aristocracy, they are the ones who lead
it and govern it and represent it. And these men are not even
of her blood!

Not long ago the Marquis of Westminster said in the House
of Lords : "They tell us we should sacrifice one fifth of our
revenues, we, the possessors of the soil of Great Britain I Are
those who say this ignorant of the fact that the other four fifths
belong to our creditors?"

The exaggeration of these words is evident. Unfortunately,
it is only too true that the inalienability of fiefs in England pro-
tects the larger part of the income of the English noblemen
against every loss, and these revenues are immense. If they
amount — as it seems certain — to 135 millions for the 500 famil-
ies of the Peers of England and to one billion three hundred
millions for the four hundred thousand people who compose the
families of baronets, knights and the gentry, w-e have to acknow-
ledge that the British nobility knew how to seize a very good
part of the spoils of the globe ! But we have seen what a power-
ful menace hangs over English commerce. The aristocracy is a
sleeping partner in all the industries, and it is easy to predict that
the material punishment will not be long delayed.

As far as its moral chastisement is concerned, that could
not be more cruel. The wealth of all these great lords makes
them the prey of a certain vague melancholy, an illness sent by
God to the great of the earth to curb them with the bridle of
pain ; pain, that imposing and terrible lesson of equality. What
do the proud lords find in reality in the midst of their enjoy-
ment? They find therein the bitterness of thought and the eternal
disquiet of the heart. They hasten away from the fogs of their
island and go to squander their ill-gotten gold in all the parts
of the world whence they have stolen it, dragging with them the
burden of their enervating wealth.

To-day it can only concern us to know if the bourgeoisie

of France will imitate the English. It concerns us to know
whether in seeking new resources for her industrial power, she
will supplant on the ocean the hated supremacy of St. George's
banner? For a great people, this is the irresistible tendency of
the logic of competition. But England will not lose the scepter
of the seas without a struggle. May the French bourgeoisie then
rush as quickly as possible to stifle the English on their island.

CHAPTER V

COMPETITION WILL NECESSARILY RESULT IN A

DEATH STRUGGLE BETWEEN ENGLAND

AND FRANCE

In order that an alliance should be a natural one between
two nations, each must bring into the contract reciprocal ad-
vantages; they must have different resources which vary in their
nature and purpose. France and England are two powers which
must expand into colonial possessions in order to exist, and this
is the first obstacle in a durable alliance. When Rome was ex-
tending her territory by war, and Carthage desired to expand
through commerce, Rome and Carthage met, after they had taken
possession of all the known countries, and fought it out.

Because the economic conditions of France and England
are the same today, thus making these two nations necessarily
maritime, a conflict between them is inevitable. For is not Free
Competition the principle which dominates our social order to-
day? Must not free competition have as a corollary every
sort of advantageous production? Must not such a production,
whose growth is so impetuous and so unregulated, in order
to find new outlets, conquer the world industrially and rule the
sea?

On that day on which we destroy the guild system the
fact arises quite naturally that there is one nation too many in
this world, which makes it necessary that either France must
perish or that England be wiped from the map. New compli-
cations were added to the long rivalry which in the fifteenth
century brought a Duke of Bedford to Paris and forced Charles
VII to flee to Bourges.

In 1789, France adopted all the traditions of the English
school of political economy ; she became an industrial nation
of the same kind as England. Launched in the rapid current
of competition she forces us to establish branches everywhere
and to have our agents in all ports. But to dispute the ocean
with England would be to deprive her of life. And she has
understood this very well. Consequently the coalitions paid by
her ; the continental blockade ; and the terrible duel between
Pitt and Napoleon. But with Pitt dead, and Napoleon slowly

assassinated, it is necessary to beg-in the struggle over again.
There is but one way to avoid it! That is to make of France
a nation essentially agricultural, while England remains in-
dustrial. Our statesmen do not doubt this and when M. Thiers said,
not long ago, to the Tribune: — "France must be satisfied with
being the first of the continental nations," M. Thiers spoke a
word whose far-reaching effect he certainly ignored. For, if
we had cried out: — "Do you wish to change the foundation of
our social order?" what would he have answered? Vast as it
is, the ocean is not large enough for France and England at the
same time, governed as they are by the same economic laws and
animated consequently by the same spirit. Have not these two
nations, seeking colonial expansion and not being able to live
unless under this condition, met each other at every point and
checked each other at every turn? This is the point at issue.
Moreover, the motive from which England has excluded France
from the last treaty is altogether a commercial one. There is no
possible doubt on this point. Nothing is clearer than the lan-
guage of the Globe, the special organ of Lord Palmerston. Ac-
cording to this journal, if Lord Palmerston wished to run all
the risks of a rupture with France; if he had persuaded the
cabinet of St. James to gain by the revolts against Mehemed
Ali, which broke out in Syria, it is because he saw how important
it was for England to keep this country within her mercantile
protectorate. The plan of Lord Palmerston is very simple ; he
regards Syria as the key to the Orient and this key he will put
into the hands of the English. They made an agreeinent with
the Divan by which terms the pashas or viceroys of Syria act
in accordance zvith the views of the representatives of the British
g07'ernnient. The English minister, as we see, makes no secret
of his designs. To open to British ships three routes leading to
India : the first through the Red Sea. the second through Syria
and the Euphrates : the third through Syria, Persia and Belu-
chistan, such is the substance of England's hopes. In order to
realize this plan, we see that she must consent to give Con-
stantinople to Russia. Having once opened these three routes
to India, she will line them with markets, so the Globe in^-eniously
predicts. Thus the present England is still the old England!
To-day, as yesterday, as always, this race, indominable in its
cupidity, must seek and find consumers. Has England linen
and cotton goods which call for markets? Quick! conquer the

Orient. Does she wish to humiliate France? No, it is quite
another thing. It is a question of her existence. And she can-
not do this according to her economic constitution, except on the
condition of subjugating the entire world to her merchandise.

That, which for England is a question of life or death, is
also a question of life or death for France, if the principle of
competition is maintained. For this reason, competition is a nec-
essary upheaval of nations, all men of noble impulse will applaud;
but ought she to draw it in order to sustain the traditions of
English brigandage? Alas! it is hardly worth while to pillage
the whole universe to arrive at the poor tax.

The social order is bad — the question is how to change it.
Before we decide what is, in our case, the possible remedy, let
us determine which is the most important issue — political re-
form, in which many are interested, or social reform which ap-
peals to many others.

CHAPTER VI

THE NECESSITY OF A DOUBLE REFORM

There are many audacious thinkers to-day, who meditate on
the organizations of labor. "What do all your parliamentary dis-
putes, all your petty conflicts over the ministry, and all your palace
revolutions matter to us?" they say. "Descend with us into the
heart of society which is at the point of dissolution : you will find
there many other things to inspire fear or hope. Here are the
abysses, which we must fathom. What after all are governments ?
Merely transitory forms. In order that society may be regenerat-
ed; the power which ceases to be in harmony with the new civi-
lization, falls of itself and through its own weakness."

Is all this sophistry ! Yes, without doubt a renovated society
is called a new power ; but is the existence of the power so inde-
pendent of society that one may be changed without modifying
the other ? When you have found the means of inaugurating the
principles of association and of organizing labor according to the
rules of reason, of justice and of humanity, how do you expect to
arrive at the realization of your doctrines? Power, this is organ-
ized force. Power will rest on interests which are blind, but
which are obstinate in their blind opposition to everything that
is new. The government has legislatures which threaten you with
their laws, courts which reach you with their summons, soldiers
who menace you with their bayonets. Therefore possess yourself
of this power if you do not wish to be overwhelmed by it. Take it
for an instrument, but at the risk of finding it an obstacle.

Furthermore : — the emancipation of the proletarians is a very
complicated undertaking; it implies too many reforms, it dis-
turbs too many customs, it clashes with too many prejudices,
it contradicts not only in reality but in appearance, too many in-
terests, it is madness to believe that it can accomplish its ends
by a series of partial efforts or isolated attempts. It is necessary
tc use the whole power of the state and this is certainly not too
great an undertaking for so great a need. That which the prole-
tarians lack to free themselves are the tools of labor : these the
government must furnish them.

No, without a political reform, a social reform is not pos-
sible, for, if the second is the goal, the first is the means.

But we must not conclude from this, that the discussion
of social questions is useless, even dangerous, and that we must
begin by conquering the government, only to see what can be
done later ? You might as well say : — let us begin, we will see
later where we have to go.

This error is common enough to-day, and it must be con-
fessed that it is shared by some eminent minds. We do not deny
the necessity of solving social questions ; we even acknowledge
that in order to bring about a social reform the political reform
must be accomplished ; but we believe that the discussion of
these grave d'fficulties must be put off until the political revolu-
tion of to-morrow. Such is our opinion.

Revolutions which do not baffle are those whose goal is pre-
cise and which have a definite beginning.

Look at the bourgeoise revolution of 1789 ! When it broke
forth, every one could have outlined the program. It came full-
fledged from the Encyclopaedia, this great laboratory of the ideas
of the eighteenth century, it had only taken actual possession
in '89 of a domain, already morally conquered. This is so true,
that the Third Estate did not see any inconvenience in turning
itself into legislators. The imperative decrees ! Everywhere the
demand was for absolute legislation ! And why ? Because, in the
minds of all, the object of the revolution was clearly defined.
They knew what they wanted, why and how they wanted it.
Let us open the famous cahier of this period ; the revolution is all
there, for the constitution of 1791 is nothing but a faithful repro-
duction. How powerfully it has been established, how this
entire revolution of '89 is rooted in the depth of the social body!
The tempests of the convention have passed over in vain ; the
Empire has sought in vain to eclipse it by virtue of its cities
taken and battles won ; the Restoration has fought it in vain in
every way that was effective, by political superstition and by
religious superstition. But the Revolution has risen again above
the ruins of the Convention, of the Empire and of the Restoration.
The year 1830 belongs in this chain, whose first link is 1789 ;
1789 had begun the reign of the bourgeoisie ; 1830 continued it.

Let us look now at the revolution of '93. How long did
it last? What is left of it? Of what power, however, of what
audacity, with what genius were not they endowed, whose task

it was to make it triumph. What a gigantic effort ! What har-
rowing activity ! What forces put into play from enthusiasm to
terror! What instruments used in the service of these new doc-
trines from the sword of the general to the axe of the headsman !
But the aim of the revolution for which the members of the
convention should have worked out a program was not clearly
defined at the start. Not one of the theories hastily advanced
by Robespierre and Saint-Just have been elaborated in the heart
of the nation. Jean- Jacques has indeed written his Social Con-
tract, but how absolutely lost is the voice of one man in the great
clamor with which the publicists of the bourgeoisie filled the
eighteenth century? Thus the intellectual sterility of this heroic
and prodigious intelligence of the Convention is explained. The
men who composed it, could only destroy one another; because
outside the sphere of their activity there was not that uncertainty
and balancing of ideas which rule within. However, where noth-
ing is decided by reason, all is determined by passion: and be-
hold how into the same basket, have fallen successively the head
of Danton upon that of Vergniaud, the head of Herbert upon
that of Danton, and the head of Robespierre upon that of
Herbert.

Let us recall these terrible struggles and let us meditate upon
the lesson which they teach. Let us never lose sight of the means,
nor the goal, and far from evading the discussion of social the-
ories, let us provoke it whenever we have the opportunity in ord-
er not to be taken unawares and to know how to direct our forces
when we have seized it.

But we shall evolve many false ideas, we preach many
dreams. And what about it? Can man reach truth at the first
step? And when he is plunged into darkness, shall we forbid
his going towards the light, because in order to reach it he is
forced to go through the shadow? And do you know whether
humanity reaps any benefit from that which you call dreams?
Do you know whether the dream of today will not be reality ten
years hence? And if the truth can be realized in ten years, is it
not necessary that we should take chances on the dreams of today?
Any doctrine, whatever it may be, political, religious or social,
is never developed without meeting more opponents than advo-
cates, and it does not enlist any soldier until many martyrs have

been made. Have not all the ideas, which govern men, been
esteemed follies before they were recognized as wise?

Who discovers a new world?
A fool who is railed at everywhere.
On the Cross, wet with his blood,
Dies a fool, bequeathing to us a God.

Let us not blindly accept all which these volatile minds give
us as so many oracles, let us seek truth with deliberation, with
prudence, even with distrust; nothing more. But why shall we
close the paths to the flights of the spirit ? Every army, advancing
in an unknown country, must have scouts, it is necessary that
some of these should give false information. Alas ! boldness of
thought is not such a common thing today, that it must need cool
enthusiasm and discourage effort.

What do you fear? That we inject false ideas into the
popular mind upon the condition of the proletariat and on the
means of bettering it. I answer, that if these ideas are false,
the discussion carries them off as the wind blows the chaff from
the grain. If it were otherwise, then progress would be a
chimera and nothing would be left to us, but to wrap our head in
our mantle.

What else do you fear? That the boldness of certain solu-
tions of social questions shall trouble the hearts and injure the
success of political reform? But in the first place, is it not a
fact that the questions of universal suffrage, of the real sove-
reignty of the people, of the democratic government, do not
frighten anyone in France ? And what shall we do then, to prove
to the fainthearted by good and quick reasons how puerile and
vain their anxiety is?

Great God! that which frightens the political parties most
is not so much what they say, as what they forget to say:
The unknown ! That is what frightens away the feeble souls. Will
the democratic party be accused of pushing on to the point where
it is an industrial Jacquerie, when it has scientifically developed
the means to rid industry of a horrible disorder into which it has
been lead astray? Will the bourgeosie, blinded by prejudice, rise
when it shall have been proven that the ever-increasing con-
centration of capital menaces that class with the same yoke under
which the laboring class is groaning.

Add to this, that, in order to give to the political reform
numerous adherents among the people — the only means to render
this reform prompt and decisive — it is absolutely indispensable to
show to the people the relation which exists between a change of
the government and the amelioration of its conditions, both
material and moral. Let us be brave enough to say ; this is what
the democratic party has neglected up to the present and this,
perhaps, has retarded its victory.

Discuss everything that is attached to the social reform,
consider how to reach THE GOAL; work actively for the politi-
cal reform as a MEANS to this end, this is the task imposed upon
the defenders of the people. It is severe, but it is glorious : for it
consists of the reign of justice after we have discovered truth
and conquered resistance.

To arrive at a social revolution it is necessary to take its
starting point in the conditions of present society. In other
words, that which is important for us to find, is not so much a
mathematical formula, as a practical solution.

Robert Owen was not a practical reformer, because he
wanted to base the distribution of the products of labor on the
needs of a society and not upon the services rendered.

The Saint-Simonists have not had any practical reformers
because they have demanded the abolition of the family and the
consequent destruction of the principle of inheritance,

Charles Fourier was not a practical reformer, because he
laid the distribution of all labor, industrial or agricultural, at the
mercy of the individual preference and because he has taken up
everything in his social organization, except the idea of efficiency.

But what mighty ideas stir in all these works, especially
in those of Fourier? Louis Reybaud, a laborious and intelligent
writer — but full of enthusiasm and feeling — has just published a
true and luminous statement of the theories expressed by these
three audacious reformers. He has certainly rendered a great
service in popularizing the ideas which were generally ignored or
misunderstood. For the importance of the social sciences can
not be contested today by anyone.

Let us see what remedy, in our opinion, will be possible.
But at the outset we wish to advise the reader that we regard as
merely provisional the social order, the basis of which we are
about to indicate.

CONCLUSION

HOW, ACCORDING TO OUR VIEW, IT WOULD BE
POSSIBLE TO ORGANIZE

The government ought to be considered as the supreme regu-
lator of production and endowed for this duty with great power.

This task would consist of fighting competition and of
finally overcoming it.

The government ought to float a loan with the proceeds of
which it should erect social workshops in the most important
branches of national industry.

As these establishments would demand considerable invest-
ments, the number of these workshops at the start ought to be
carefully limited, still they would possess, by virtue of their
organization — as we shall see later — an unlimited expansion.

The government, considered as the only founder of the work-
shops, must determine the status regulating them. This code,
deliberated and voted for by the representatives of the people
ought to have the power and force of a law.

All workmen who can give guarantee of morality shall be
called to M^ork in these social workshops up to the limit of the
original capital gathered together for the purchase of tools.

As the false and anti-social education given to the present
generation does not allow them to look farther for any greater
recompense than a motive of emulation and encouragement, the
difference in wages ought to be based on the scale of work done •y^'"-
an entirely new form of education in this respect would com-
pletely change the ideas and customs. It is not necessary to say
that the wages, in all cases, must be sufficient for the subsistence
of the workman.

For the first years after the workshops are established,
the government ought to regulate the scale of employment. After
the first year it is no longer necessary, the laborers would then
have time enough to truly estimate their respective work, and, all

17. Blanc did not demand equality of wages in the first edition;
in the fifth edition he mentions it but by the ninth abandons the idea
as too many had bitterly opposed it.

being equally interested as we will soon see, the success of the
association would eventually depend on the elective principle.

Every year an account would be made of the net profit,
which should be divided into three parts : one to be meted out
equally to the members of the association; the other to be
assigned ( 1 ) for the maintenance of the aged, the sick and infirm,
(2) for meeting a crisis that oppresses other industries, in which
case all industries must give help and succour; the third part
to be laid aside to furnish implements of work to those who
may enter into the association later. In such a way it could be
expanded indefinitely.

In every one of those associations for industries which permit
a wholesale trade, those could be admitted who belong to those
trades whose nature forces them to work apart and individually.
Thus every workshop could be composed of different trades
grouped about a greater industry obeying the same laws and
partaking of the same privileges.

Every member of the social workshops would have the right
to use, according to his discretion, the profits of his labor ; but it
would not be long before the evident economy and the incontest-
able excellence of this communal life would call forth other
voluntary associations among the workmen according to their
needs and pleasures.

Capitalists can also be taken into the association and would
draw interest on their invested money, which would be guaranteed
by the budget ; but in the profits they would participate only if
they were laborers at the same time.

If the social workshops were once established according to
these principles, you could easily understand what the results
would be. In every great industry, in machinery, for example, or
the silk or cotton industry, or in printing establishments, the
social workshops would be in competition with private industries.
Would the fight be a long one? No, for the social workshops
would have advantages over the others, the results of the cheaper
communal life and through the organization by which all laborers,
without exception, are interested in producing good and quick
work. Would the fight be subversive? No, for the government
would always endeavor to prevent the prices of the products of
the social workshops from dropping to too low a level. If today
an extremely rich man were to enter into a contest with another
less wealthy, this unequal fight would be only disastrous, for the

private man looks only to his personal interest, if he can sell twice
as cheap as his competitors, he will do so, in order to ruin them
and be master of the situation. But when the power itself steps
into the place of a private individual, the question develops a dif-
ferent phase.

The government of which we are speaking, has it any inter-
est in upsetting industry and destroying its existence? Is it not
rather by the virtue of its position the born protector even of
those against whom, in its effort to transform society, it is waging
a righteous competition? Therefore a comparison is not possible
between the industrial war which the great capitalist today de-
clares against the smaller capitalist, and the war which the gov-
ernment would declare in our system against an individual. The
first necessarily consecrates fraud, violence and all evil which in-
iquity carries in its wake, the second would be conducted without
brutality, without wreckage and in a manner to obtain only its
aim : its peaceful and successive absorption of private workshops
through social ones. In this manner instead of being, as every
great capitalist is to-day, the master and tyrant of the market, the
government would be its regulator. It would use competition as
a weapon, not to destroy private industries without consideration,
which would be to its own interest to avoid, but to guide them
imperceptibly into the new system. Soon, indeed, workmen and
capitalists would crowd to every industrial sphere where social
workshops are opened, on account of the privileges they offer to
their members. After a certain time we could see, how produc-
tion takes place, without usurpation, without injustice, without
irreparable disasters, and for the profit of the principle of asso-
ciation, a phenomenon which is today so deplorably brought forth
and only by force of tyranny for the profit of individual egotism.
Today a rich manufacturer can strike a heavy blow at his rivals,
leave them dead on the spot and monopolize a whole branch of in-
dustry; in our system, the State would constitute itself, by and
by, as master of industry and in place of monopoly we have ob-
tained, as the result of success, the subversion of competition:
association.

Suppose that this aim is reached in any particular branch of
industry ; suppose that the manufacturers of machinery, for
instance, place themselves at the service of the State, that means
submit themselves to the principles of communal management.
As one and the same industry is not always carried on in one

place but in different centers, it would be more just to introduce
into all workshops, which belong to the same industry, the system
of association. For, after having killed competition among in-
dividuals, it would be absurd to let it subsist among corporations.
Therefore, in each sphere of work, which is placed under the
dominion of the government, a central workshop must be estab-
lished, to which all others would be in the position of supplement-
ary workshops. Just as Rothschild possesses not only business
houses in France, but in all different countries of the world,
which correspond to the home office, in the same way each in-
dustry should have its central establishment and its affiliated
branches. This would be the end of competition. The different
centers of production would be bound together by the same com-
mon interest, and the ruinous hostility of effort would be replaced
by their union.

I shall not dwell upon the simplicity of this mechanism ; it
is evident. We see indeed, that after the first year each workshop
would be able to stand on its own feet and the State would restrict
itself to superintending the maintenance of relations between all
centers embracing the same kind of production and hindering the
violation of the principles of the common order. Every kind of
public service today presents a hundred fold more complications.
Think for a moment of the conditions, under which everybody
would be permitted to take upon himself the transportation of let-
ters and the government should step in declaring: "To me alone
belongs the mail service." How many objections would be raised
then? How shall the government undertake to transmit exactly
to the minute, all that 34 million people can write every day and
every hour, to other 34 million people ? And with what admirable
exactness is the service in the post-offices carried on ! Neverthe-
less, not counting certain little shortcomings, which have their
reason not as much in the nature of the mechanism as in the poor
condition of the Government, under which we have lived to the
present time, we know with what marvellous precision the postal
service has been carried on. I do not speak of our administration
and the regularity of the workings of this immense machine ! In-
deed, the wa\- the divisions and subdivisions work, leads us to the
idea that this apparently complicated mechanism moves automat-
ically. Why should it be impossible for the laborers to act to-
gether, in a country where twenty years ago, we saw one man
animate ten million people at his will, infuse his life into them and

make them follow in his foot-steps ? It is true that his work was
destructive. But is it in the nature of things, in the will of God,
in the decrees of fate, that to produce in common should be im-
possible, while to destroy in common seems to be so easy? At
last, I repeat it, the State with its immense resources of every
kind, should perform that, which we see accomplished daily by
each single individual.

From the common interest of all the laborers in the same
workshop we infer the common interest of all workshops in the
same industry. In order to complete the system, we must estab-
lish the solidarity of the various industries. Therefore, from the
profit yielded by each industry, we must set aside a sum by means
of which the State could give aid to every industry, which has
suffered through extraordinary and unforeseen circumstances. Be-
sides, in the system which we propose, crises would become rare.
What causes them most frequently to-day? The veritable mur-
derous contest between the interests, a contest from which no
victor can come forth without leaving conquered ones on the field
of battle ; a combat, that like all wars, chains slaves to the chariot
of the victor. In destroying competition we strangle at the same
time the evils which it brings forth. No more victories and no
more defeats 1 Then crises can only be caused from the outside.
It would only be necessary to ward them oflf. The treaties of
peace and of alliance would, doubtlessly, be insufficient ; but how
many disasters could be averted, if in place of this despicable dip-
lomacy, this light of hypocrisy, falsehood and baseness, which
divides nations amongst a group of successful brigands, we sub-
stitute a system of alliance, based on the needs of industry and
the reciprocal demands of laborers in all parts of the world. But
mark well, this new kind of diplomacy will be impracticable, so
long as the industrial anarchy, which threatens to devour us
reigns. In the courts of inquiry, which have been established for
several years, only too much of this has already been made public.
What unfortunate spectacles have we witnessed ? Have not these
courts of inquiry shown us the peasant waging war against the
manufacturer of beet-sugar, the mechanic against the blacksmith,
the harbor against factories in the interior, Bordeaux against
Paris, the South against the North, all who produce against all
consumers? What can the government accomplish in the face of
such a monstrous disorder? What some demand in haste, others
hurl back furiously ; what enlivens one, kills another. It is clear,

that this absence of solidarity among interests, robs the State of
all possibility of being precautious and enchains it in all relations
to the foreign powers. Soldiers on the outside, police on the
inside ; the present State has no means of action and its whole
activity is necessarily limited in checking destruction on one hand
and in exercising it on the other. The State should place itself
resolutely at the head of industry by rallying around one principle
all those forces, all those interests, which to-day struggle against
each other, then its external activity will be more prudent, more
fertile, more fortunate and more decisive! Thus the reorganiza-
tion of labor will not only obviate crises, which originate in our
midst, but also, most of those which the wind that blows the sail
of our ships, conveys to us from outside !

Is it necessary that I should continue to enumerate the ad-
vantages which the new system brings about? In the industrial
world in which we live, all the discoveries of science are a calam-
ity, first because the machines supplant the laborers who need
work to live, and then, because they are also murderous weapons,
furnished to industry which has the right and faculty to use them
against all those who have not this right and power. What does
"nezv machines" mean in the system of competition ? It means
monopoly ; we have proven it. However, in the new system of
association and solidarity there are no patents for inventors, no
individual exploitation. The inventor will be recompensed by the
State and his discovery is then placed at the service of all. What"
is to-day a means of extermination, becomes an instrument of
universal progress ; what to-day reduces the laborer to hunger,
to despair and drives him to revolt, will serve only to render his
task lighter and to produce a sufficient leisure to live a life of
intelligence and happiness, in one word, that which has tolerated
tyranny will aid in the triumph of fraternity.

In the inconceivable confusion, into which we are plunged
to-day, commerce does not and can not depend on production.
Production is forced to find among consumers all those producers
who are striving to wrest consumers from each other, just as the
brokers and curbstone-brokers, the great merchants and the small
merchants do. Commerce thus becomes the open sore of pro-
duction. Placed between the laborer who works and him who
consumes, commerce rules the one as well as the other. Fourier,
who through his vigorous attack on the present economic order,
and after him his pupil. Victor Considerant, have, with an irresist-

ible logic, laid bare the great open wound of society, which we call
commerce. The merchant ought to be the agent of production,
sharing equally in its benefits and chances. That is what reason
tells us and what universal utility imperiously demands. In this
system which we propose, nothing is easier to realize. All hos-
tilities ceasing between the various centers of production, within
a given industry, there will be, here and there, as to-day in the
greater commercial houses, branch stores to meet the demand of
consumption.

What place has credit in this system? To furnish tools to
the laborer. Today credit is, as we have already proven, some-
thing quite different.i^- Banks do not loan except to the rich.
Even if they would loan to the poor, they could not do it without
ruining themselves. The banks, established only from the view-
point of individualism, could not be anything else than an admir-
ably conceived means to make the rich wealthier and the mighty
more powerful. Everywhere monopoly under the guise of free-
dom, everywhere tyranny under the appearance of progress ! The
proposed organization would make short process with such crimes.
That part of the profit which is especially and invariably laid
aside for the increase of the social workshops through recruit-
ment of laborers, this furnishes the means of credit. Of what
need would banks be now? Suppress them.

Would an excess of population be feared if an income would
be assured to every laborer who would necessarily adapt himself
to the idea of order and the habits of prudence ? Why is misery
to-day more prolific than wealth? We have given the reasons.

In a system where every sphere of industry would gather
together a certain number of men animated by the same spirit,
acting under the same impulse, having common hopes, common
interests, where would be the place, I ask you, for these adulter-
ations of products, these cowardly subterfuges, these daily lies,
these subtle frauds which to-day compel each producer, ever}^
merchant, cost what it may, to take away from his neighbor his

customers and his fortune? Industrial reform would in this way
mean a profound moral revolution and would bring about in one
day more conversions than all sermons of preachers and all
speeches of moralists could in a century.

18. Author's Note — See the article entitled Question dea Banquea,
in the Revue du Progres of Dec. 1, 1839.

What we have just said of the industrial reform will suf-
fice to show according to what fundamental principles and bases
the agricultural reform has been working. The abuse of col-
lateral succession is universally recognized. These successions
should be abolished and the property represented by them should
be made communal property. Each community will in this way
build up a domain which will be inalienable and, not being cap-
able of being extended, will bring about without division and
usurpation a great agricultural revolution. The exploitation of
the communal domain, however, will take place necessarily on
a much larger scale and in accordance with these laws which
regulate industr)-. We return to this subject which demands
further development.

We have seen why the education of the children of the people
is impossible under the present system. In our system it would
be possible in such a way that we could make it obligatory and
gratuitous at the same time. If the means for subsistence of
each laborer were assured and his wages were sufficient, what
right would he have to refuse to send his children to school?
There are serious men who think that it is dangerous to-day to
spread learning throughout the ranks of the people, and they are
right. But do they not see that this danger of education is an
overwhelming proof of the absurdity of our social order? Every-
thing is wrong in these conditions: work is no honor, the most
useful employments are disdained; a laborer is more or less an
object of compassion, while they have not flowers enough for
a ballet dancer. This is why the education of the people is a
danger. This is why our colleges and our schools only throw
upon our society ambitious, discontented men and boasters. But
let us help the people read good books; let us teach them that
the most useful are also the most honorable; that there are only
arts in society, no trades ; that nothing deserves contempt, except
that which corrupts the soul and infuses it with the poison of
pride, holding aloof from it the practice of fraternity and incul-
cating egotism. Then let us show these children that society
is governed by the principles that are taught them : would educa-
tion be dangerous then? They make a foot-stool of education
for all apparently foolish vanities, for all barren pretensions and
then fling an anathema against instruction. They write bad books
based on bad examples and they believe themselves sufficiently
authorized to forbid reading I What a pity I

Let us sum up the whole. An economic revoKition must be
attempted :
1 — Because the present social conditions are too full of misery,

iniquity and turpitude, to last much longer.
2 — Because everybody, irrespective of position, rank or fortune,

is interested in the creation of a new social order.
3 — Finally because it is possible, even easy, to produce this neces-
sary revolution in a peaceful way.

In the new world into which we could enter, some things,
perhaps, must be accomplished for the complete realization of the
principle of fraternity. But at least all would be prepared for
this realization, which would be the work of education. Human-
ity has been too far separated from its goal to reach it in one
day. The corrupt civilization, under the yoke of which we still
.o-roan, has disturbed all interests, but at the same time it has lost
all reason and has poisoned all springs of human intelligence. In-
iquity has taken the place of justice, falsehood has become truth
and men tear each other to pieces under the protection of dark-
ness.

Many false ideas must be destroyed ; doubtlessly we can
count upon their disappearing. The day will come, when we
will acknowledge that he, whom God has endowed with more
strength, or greater intelligence, must do more for his fellow
men. Then let genius, and it is fully w^orthy of it, exercise its
legitimate power, not by means of the tribute which it levies
upon society, but by the grandeur of the services which it will
render to society. For the inequality of capabilities has for its
goal, not the inequalities of rights, but the inequalities of duties.

University of Cincinnati Studies

Competitive and Monopoly Price

A criticism of current theory with
special reference to its bear-
ing upon the trust problem

FREDERICK CHARLES HICKS

University of Cincinnati

Issued Bi-monthly, from the

University Press, Cincinnati, Ohio

Copyrighted, 1911, by
Frederick Charles Hicks

CONTENTS

PAGE

I. The Basis of the Present Trust Policy, - 5
II. The Current Theory of Price, - - 12

III. How Prices are Determined, - - - 21

IV. A Trust Policy Fair to Big Business and

TO the Consumer, 32

Competitive and Monopoly Price

THE BASIS OF THE PRESENT TRUST

POLICY

Thi; present trust policy of the United States is an
attempt to destroy monopoly and thereby leave the field
to competitive industry. This policy finds expression
in the anti-trust laws of the United States and of the
several States; in their judicial interpretation; in the
demand that these laws be more rigorously enforced;
and in various proposals to amend the laws so as the more
surely to accomplish their purpose, wherever in their
present form they are inadequate to the annihilation of
monopoly.

Many illustrations might be given to exemplify this
policy. One will, however, suffice for the present pur-
pose. The Anti-Trust law of the United States declares

that:

"Every contract, combination in the form of
trust or otherwise, or conspiracy, in restraint of
trade or commerce among the several states,
or with foreign nations, is hereby declared to
be illegal."

"Every person who shall monopolize, or at-
tempt to monopolize, or combine or conspire

6 COMPETITIVE AND MONOPOEY PRICE

with any other person or persons to monopolize,
any part of the trade or commerce among the
several states, or with foreign nations, shall be
deemed guilty of a misdemeanor, . . ."^

This law has been the subject of numerous court
decisions, including several by the Supreme Court of
the United States. Among the most important cases
to reach this high tribunal was the one known as the
Northern Securities case, which was decided in 1903.
The opinion, affirming the decree of the circuit court
against the Northern Securities Company, was prepared
by the late Mr. Justice Harlan. In this opinion, after
extended reference to previous decisions of the Court,
several propositions were stated as deducible from those
decisions. Among these propositions are the following:

"That Congress has the power to establish
rules by which interstate and international com-
merce shall be governed, and, by the Anti-Trust
Act, has prescribed the rule of free competition
among those engaged in such commerce."

''That the natural effect of competition is
to increase commerce, and an agreement whose
direct effect is to prevent this play of compe-
tition restrains instead of promotes trade and
commerce."

"That to vitiate a combination, such as the
act of Congress condemns, it need not be shown
that the combination, in fact, results or will re-
sult in a total suppression of trade or in a
complete monopoly, but it is only essential to
show that by its necessary operation, it tends
to restrain interstate or international trade or
commerce or tends to create a monopoly in such
trade or commerce and to deprive the public of
the advantages that flozv from free competi-
tion/'^

1 26 Stat, at Large, 209, chap. 647, U. S. Comp. Stat. 1901, p. 3200.

2 U. S. Reports, 193. pages 331, 332. Not italicized in the original.

the; basis of the present trust poucy 7

Throughout the opinion, numerous references are
made to the "natural laws of competition," to the ad-
vantages arising therefrom, and to the purpose of the
Act to secure the operation of those laws. Subsequent
decisions containing further interpretations of the Act
have not modified this fundamental attitude towards
competition and monopoly. The so-called "rule of
reason," recently applied to the enforcement of the law,
has gone no further than to recognize that not all sup-
pression of competition is necessarily in restraint of
trade. The intent of the law remains, as before, to
prevent monopoly and to secure free competition.

Moreover, in this intent, the Anti-Trust law voices
correctly public opinion. Although there is widespread
dissatisfaction with the results that have been attained
under it, popular confidence in its fundamental purpose
continues undiminished.

An explanation of this general attitude condemning
monopoly and approving competition is to be found in
an intuitive belief in the doctrine of "fair price."

The idea that some prices are fair and others unfair
is practically universal. This idea has existed for cen-
turies, perhaps as long as buying and selling themselves
have existed. During the Middle Ages it was known as
the doctrine of "just price," an admirable description of
which is found in Professor W. J. Ashley's "English
Economic History." At that time it was taught that
"in any particular country or district there is for every
article, at any particular time, some one just price: that
prices, accordingly, should not vary with momentary
supply and demand, with individual caprice, or skill in
the chaffering of the market. It is the moral duty of
buyer and seller to try to arrive, as nearly as possible,
at this just price."^ Moreover, "as experience showed

3 Vol. I, p. 146.

8 COMPETITIVE AND MONOPOLY PRICE

that individuals could not be trusted thus to admit the
real value of things, it followed that it was the duty
of the proper authorities of State, town, or guild to step
in and determine what the just and reasonable price
really was."*

The application of such a principle to actual business
transactions necessitated a standard by which to deter-
mine whether the prices at which commodities and serv-
ices were offered for sale were just or unjust. Such
a standard was found for the producer of that time,
not in "what would enable him to make a gain," but
in "what would permit him to live a decent life accord-
ing to the standard of comfort which public opinion
recognized as appropriate to his class."'"' Moreover,
it may be noted in passing, this standard was not ill-
adapted to the conditions then prevailing, when business
intercourse was on a small scale, the market for mc^t
articles was a limited one, and the consumer and oro-
ducer as a rule dealt directly with each other.

With the passing of years, new industrial conditions
developed to which old ideas and old policies were no
longer suited. But there rem.ained and still remains the
basic idea of fair price. There has come, however, a
new standard by which to determine fairness and a new
view as to the proper method for securing fairness.

It is, perhaps, too much to affirm that the present
standard of fair price has been definitely formulated.
Nor it is intended here to enter upon a full discus-
sion of this subject; though, in view of the controversy
over "earned" and "unearned" increments and of the
increasing tendency to call in the aid of public authority
to secure reasonable charges, there is developing an urg-
ent need for a thorough analysis of the basis of fairness
with a view to arriving at a reasonable standard.

* Jbid. 140. 5 Ibid. 138.

THE BASIS OF THE PRESENT TRUST POLICY g

In general, it is probably correct to say that in the
efforts to prevent unfair prices at the present time, the
test applied is gain or, as it is commonly called, profits =
A fair price is one which yields fair profits. Just what
are fair profits in any particular case is not easy to de-
termine, but it is certain that the concept of fair profits
as a test of fair prices does not mean a definite, uni-
versally applicable per cent of some arbitrarily selected
base. Fair profits mean a fair return for those engaged
in business, due account being taken of the character
of the business, the capital required, the risks involved,
and the ability demanded of those who become responsible
for the initiation and conduct of business.

The absence of a definitely formulated standard for
determining fairness is not a mere accident. It is due
to the prevailing view as to the method by which fair-
ness is to be secured — a method under which the ques-
tion of what is fair mav be left to take care of itself:
for fairness, it is believed, will follow as a matter of
course from the method of securing it. That method
is free competition. Whereas, formerly public authority
exercised directly upon price was relied upon to insure
justice, to-day the same end is sought by procuring the
unimpeded operation of competition.

True, it has come to be recognized that there is a
field of activity in which competition is not effective.
Such, for example, is the case with telephone, lighting,
and other similar industries. Here Government regula-
tion is acccepted as essential. But so far as the broad
field of general industry is concerned, public opinion still
holds to the idea that free competition is society's safe-
guard against injustice, and that public authority is
needed here, if at all, only to assist in securing free
competition. Competitive price is fair; monopoly price
is unfair.

lO COMPETITIVE AND MONOPOLY PRICE

To this view, entertained by society in general, ex-
emplified by the anti-trust laws above mentioned, econo-
mists lend the weight of their authority. It must suffice
for the present discussion to cite but one example of
the teaching of current economics, but it is a typical
one, taken from the latest edition of the "Outlines of
Economics," by Professor Richard T, Ely and collabo-
rators. Speaking of prices under competition, it is said
that "if we include the value of the business man's
services among the expenses of production," "the prices
received for the products of any particular business"
tend to equal "the expenses of producing them."®

Later, in discussing just price, it is said :

"The competitive system is to-day so thoroughly
accepted as the 'natural' economic order, that
there is, as we have previously noted, a deep-
seated conviction that normal competitive prices
{measured by the expenses of production) are
natural and just prices.' This conviction is,
however, brought face to face with the fact of
the growth of a large industrial field in which
monopoly, rather than competition, rules. The
question of just price is again a live issue — as
it was before the growth of the competitive
system. Public authority is frequently invoked
to insure that the prices fixed by holders of
municipal franches and other monopolists are
just and reasonable. The chief fundamental
test zvhich our courts are able to apply to the
reasonableness of any particidar price is its con-
formity to what the price would have been under
competitive conditions.'' Thus it is often asked
if a particular monopoly charge gives a more
than normal return upon the capital invested.
The determination of what the expense of pro-
ducing a particular commodity or service really
is, is often a difficult, or even impossible, task

6 p. 171. 7 Not italicized in the original.

THE BASIS OF THE PRESENT TRUST POEICY II

(the distinction between constant and variable
expenses being frequently a stumbling-block),
but, given the general acceptance of the competi-
tive system, it is hard to see what other standard
could be used/"*

Few, if any, are satisfied with the results of our
present anti-trust policy. Some are calling for more
stringent enforcement of existing laws ; others for amend-
ments to those laws which shall remove all possible
avenues of escape, especially those believed to be af-
forded by the latest Supreme Court decisions; while
still others are asking for such a modification of our
anti-trust policy as shall permit a distinction between
good and bad trusts.

What, meanwhile, is to be said of the current eco-
nomic doctrine of competitive and monopoly price, — a
doctrine which is at the root of the whole matter?

8 pp. i8o, i8i. In an earlier part of the treatise (p. 159) the reader is warned
against the error of assuming " that competitive prices are in some way ' natural '
and right prices," yet when the author himself proceeds to indicate a practical
standard for determining the " reasonableness of any particular price," he finds it
"hard to see what other standard could be used" than " its conformity to what
the price would have been under competitive conditions."

THE CURRENT THEORY OF PRICE

As it is the purpose of this paper to analyze the cur-
rent theory of price with a view to judging its validity,
it is necessary to state in this connection just what this
theory is; though, as the subject is fully set forth in
numerous available treatises on economics, only its salient
features need be described here.^

Current theory recognizes two sorts of price, desig-
nated respectively competitive price and monopoly price.
Corresponding to these are two classes of business, com-
petitive industries and monopolies.

Competitive price exists when competition is free,
and it equals cost of production. By cost of produc-
tion is meant the actual expense of producing plus what
may be called normal profits. To avoid misunderstand-
ing, this may be called social cost of production. To
the individual, cost of production means of course the
amount which he must pay for raw materials, wages,
interest on capital, and such other outlays as are incident
to the production and sale of goods. These expenses

1 The illustrations of current theory in the following description are taken from
the Outlines of Economics, by Richard T. Ely, revised and enlarged by the
a uthor and Thomas S. Adams, Max O. Lorenz and AUyn A. Young, published by
The Macmillan Company, New York, 1909. E^entially similar illustrations are
afforded by all standard treatises on Economics. See, for example, Seligman's
Principles of Economics, Part III, Book I. Value : General Principles ; and Seager's
Introduction to Economics, Chap. V, Value and Price, and Chap. XI, Distribution :
Monopoly Profits.

THE CURRENT THEORY OF PRICE 1$

are deducted from the amount received from sales, and
the difference constitutes his profits. But, viewed from
the standpoint of the consumer, profits are the payment
for the services of the one who provides the business
abiHty without which commodities can no more be pro-
duced than without labor, for which wages are paid.
From the standpoint of society, then, it is proper to
include at least normal profits as a part of cost of pro-
duction.

Just what normal profits are, as was pointed out
above,- can not be stated precisely as a certain per-
cent or as a fixed amount. Yet that such a thing
as normal profits exists as a feature of current thought,
is evidenced by the not infrequent reference to profits
in some transactions as abnormal. Normal profits will
of course vary with the quality of business ability re-
quired in various undertakings, the risk involved, and
other attending conditions, — in brief, with the character
of the business. A sufficiently accurate description of
normal profits is afforded by the statement that profits
may be considered normal in any industry when they
afford no special or extra inducem.ent to enter the busi-
ness or to leave it.

Competitive price, then, tends to equal social cost of
production.

"If it were always an easy matter for busi-
ness men to change their interests and their
energies from one line of production to another,
and if capital and labor could likewise be freely
transferred from one undertaking to another, it
is hard to see how profits in any one competitive
business could be for any length of time much
higher than in other competitive businesses.
Managerial ability, labor, and capital would
gravitate always toward those employments

2 p. 9.

14 competitive; and monopoly price

which promised the greatest profits. The effect
would be a continual tendency toward equality
of advantage in different lines of business. This
does not mean necessarily an equality of profits
as between individuals in any given lines of
business, for the amount of profits depends
largely upon the skill and enterprise of the in-
dividual business man. . . . Purely com-
petitive profits, under conditions of absolute
'fluidity' of business ability, of labor, and of
capital, would thus tend to adjust themselves
according to the ability of the individual busi-
ness man; ... If we include the value of
the business man's services among the expenses
of production, we may, obviously, state the
tendency which we have described as a tendency
toward the equality of the prices received for
the products of any particular business and the
expenses of producing them."^

The proposition that price equals social cost of pro-
duction assumes a condition of free competition, and
it is important to note what is meant by such a condi-
tion. From the above description of the nature and
tendency of competitive price, it will be seen that com-
petition is considered free when capital, labor, and
business ability can move with perfect freedom from
one industry to another. This is often called a condi-
tion of perfect fluidity, and the designation is a fortunate
one, for there is involved an analogy to the tendency of
water to seek the same level in several different recep-
tacles which are so connected that the water can pass
freely from one to another.

It would, however, be a mistake to suppose that those
who accept the doctrine of price here described believe
that productive agencies are or ever can be perfectly
fluid or that competition is, even under so-called com-
petitive conditions, ever absolutely free. On the con-

'Ely, pp. 170, 171-

THE CURRENT THEORY OF PRICE I5

trary, it is recognized that co-operation and custom
modify the working of competition, while at times the
state, in order to raise the plane of competition, "sets
limits to the rivalry," which is the essence of compe-
tition, as, for example, when it regulates the labor of
women and children, requires safety appliances and sani-
tary conditions, limits the right of contract in the case
of injury, and so forth.*

Nor is perfect fluidity necessary to the existence of
competitive price, for there is always some free capital,
free labor, and free business ability seeking a field of
operation, and at the same time the capital, labor, and
business ability now employed tend to wear out and
disappear. The new will seek the fields offering highest
returns, while, as the old disappears, it will not be re-
newed in those industries which yield less than normal
returns.

"Managerial ability, labor, and capital are
all specialized to a greater or less extent, so that
they can not be changed from one employment
to another without loss of efficiency. But it is
not necessary for the validity of our analysis
that all managerial ability, all labor, and all cap-
ital should be fluid enough to change from in-
dustry to industry economically. There are
always a certain number of business men who
are anxiously watching for the most inviting
business opportunities ; there is always a certain
amount of labor awaiting the most remunerative
employment, and there is always a certain
amount of money awaiting investment in those
forms of capital goods which produce the
greatest value. These facts are enough to give
substantial truth to the statement that in any
competitive industry the price of the commodity
produced tends to equal the cost of producing
it.'"'

* Kly, p. 26, a teg. « Ely, pp. 171. 172.

l6 COMPETITIVE AND MONOPOEY PRICE

In sharp contrast to competitive price is monopoly
price, or the price of a commodity produced under con-
ditions of monopoly. While under competition price
is fixed at social cost of production, under monopoly
price is fixed at that point which will yield the largest
net returns. As has been seen, social cost of production
means cost to the individual producer plus a normal
profit to him. So by way of emphasizing the contrast
between the two sorts of price, it may be said that com-
petitive price is determined by normal profits, monopoly
price by largest profits.

In deciding at what price to ofifer his goods for sale,
the monopolist proceeds upon the well-known tend-
ency for sales to decrease when prices increase and
for sales to increase when prices decrease. Net returns
are the product of two factors: the profit on a unit of
sales, such as a bushel of wheat, a pair of shoes, etc.,
and the number of units sold. When, therefore, a monop-
olist seeks to increase his total profits by increasing
the price of his commodity, he must take into account
the fact that such an increase in price may be expected
to result in a decrease in sales, and this in the ultimate
outcome may result in decreasing the sum total of his
profits. On the other hand, although lowering the price
of his commodity will probably lead to larger sales, the
increase in profits that might be expected from such
increase in sales may be more than offset by the de-
creased rate of profit per unit. At some point the re-
lation between rate of profit and extent of sales will
be such as to yield the largest total profits, and, having
a monopoly, he will, so far as his judgment of conditions
enables him to do so, fix the price at that point.

Such, in brief, is the process by which monopoly
price is determined. A full description of monopoly price

THE CURRENT THEORY OF PRICE

would necessitate some modification of this statement.
For example, there may be more than one price that
would yield the same maximum of net returns. But the
fundamental principle involved, i. e., that monopoly price
is determined by largest profits, would still be valid.

The following table, taken from Professor Ely's
"Outlines of Economics,"® will illustrate the working of
these principles :

PRICE
PBB UNIT

NUMBER
OP SALES

TOTAL
EARNINGS

VARUSLE

EXPENSES
PER UNIT

TOTAL
VARIABLE

EXPENSES

FIXED TOTAL

EXPENSES EXPENSES

NET
REVENUE

$0.10

600,000

$60,000

$0.03

$18,000

$50,000

$68,000

—$8,000

.09

800,000

72,000

■03

24,000

50,000

74,000

2,000

.08

1,200,000

96,000

•03

36,000

50,000

86,000

+ 10,000

.07

1,800,000

126,000

•03

54,000

50,000

104,000

4-22,000

.06

2,500,000

150,000

•03

75,000

50,000

125,000

+ 25,000

•05

3,500,000

175,000

•03

100,000

50,000

155,000

+ 20,000

.04

5,500,000

220,000

•03

165,000

50,000

215,000

+ 5,000

Commenting upon this illustration, the author says :

"Study of the table will show why, in the
case assumed here, the monopoly price will stand
at six cents. Competition, if it were present,
would keep on increasing the supply as long as
normal profit could be obtained. In our illus-
tration the lowest price at which production
could be carried on so as just to secure a profit
above the expenses of production would be four
cents ; and four cents would therefore be the
comipetitive price. . . . But since the mo-

6 p. 199.

This table does not, of course, attempt to show just what rate of decrease in
number of sales would result from the assumed increase in price. In practice the
decrease would vary with different commodities and with the same commodity at
different times. Moreover, in actual business the variable expenses per unit would
not be constant, as it frequently happens that the larger the amount produced the
less the expense of production per unit. Neither of these features of the example ,
however, is at all inconsistent with the principles which it is intended to illustrate

l8 COMPETITIVE AND MONOPOLY PRICE

nopolist has such control over the production
that he can control the supply, he will cut off
production at 2,500,000 units, at which point
demand will fix a price of six cents, and will
give the largest net return, viz., $25,000."^

The term "monopoly" as commonly employed often
lacks that precision of definition which scientific analysis
would require, yet its meaning is fairly clear. It is
intended to designate a condition in which those who
sell have such control over the supply of their com-
modities that they are able to fix the prices at which
the commodities are sold. As stated in the treatise from
which the above illustration is taken:

"Monopoly means that substantial unity of
action on the part of one or more persons en-
gaged in some kind of business which gives
exclusive control, more particularly, although
not solely, with respect to price."*

It is recognized that monopoly is not always com-
plete and absolute. The definition refers to "a perfect
type of monopoly," whereas, just as in the case of com-
petitive price, competition may not be perfectly free, so,
in the case of monopoly price, monopoly may be incom-
plete.

"We have a partial monopoly where there
is a unified control over a considerable portion
of the industrial field, but not over a sufficient
portion to give complete domination of the whole
field."^

Nevertheless, and this is the important fact, whether
competition is free or limited, and monopoly complete
or incomplete, the fields of competition and monopoly are
considered to he distinct.

7 p. 200. 8 p. 188. 9 p. 191 .

THE CURRENT THEORY OF PRICE 1 9

"Our conclusion, then, may be stated as fol-
lows: There is a great and growing field of
industry in which competition is not natural or
permanently possible, for reasons explained in
the text; there is another field within which
monopoly does not and can not exist."^°

The main points in the current theory of price may
be thus summarized :

1. There are two sorts of price, competitive and
monopoly, each of which is determined in accordance
with a principle peculiar to it and quite unlike that in
accordance with which the other is determined.

2. The essential condition of competition is fluidity,
i. e., transferability, of capital, labor, and business ability
from one industry to another.

3. Price under competition is determined by social
cost of production, for, on the one hand, if price rises
above this, profits will rise above the normal, others
will be attracted into the industry, production will be
increased, and price will fall ; while, on the other hand,
if price falls below social cost, profits will fall below
the normal, some will leave the industry, production will
be decreased, and price will rise.

4. The essential condition of monopoly is such unity
of action on the part of sellers as gives them exclusive
control over price.

5. Price under monopoly is determined by the point
that will yield the largest net returns. If, on the one
hand, price rises above this point, the loss from the re-
sulting decrease in sales will more than offset the gain
from the accompanying increase in the rate of profit ;
while, on the other hand, if price falls below this point,
the loss from the resulting decrease in the rate of profit
more than offsets the gain from the accompanying in-
crease in sales. In either case net profits are reduced.

10 Ely, p. 196.

20 COMPETITIVE AND MONOPOLY PRICE

The practical teaching of this theory of price is ap-
parent: Except in the distinct field where monopoly is
natural, make competition free and there will follow
normal profits and, by consequence, fair price. Is the
theory valid?

Ill

HOW PRICES ARE DETERMINED

In examining the current theory of price with a view
to determining whether its explanation is correct and
satisfactory, we will begin with an analysis and com-
parison of the influences that determine competitive price
and monopoly price respectively.

It will be observed that in showing that competitive
price tends to equal social cost of production, the method
employed is to show that price under the competitive
conditions assumed will not permanently remain above
or below social cost. In like manner, the method em-
ployed to prove that monopoly price tends to the point
of largest returns is to show that price under the monop-
olistic conditions assumed will not permanently remain
above or below that point. It will facilitate a com-
parison of the principles according to which each of these
two kinds of price is determined, to bring together for
comparison, first, the influences which prevent each from
permanently remaining above the points stated, and then
the influences which prevent each from remaining below
the respective points.

Turning, first, to competitive price, it may be asked :
Why does competitive price not rise above social cost?
The many forms in which the answer to this query might
be put are reducible to one, viz., because of competition.
Thus, if shoes are being produced under so-called com-

22 COMPETITIVE AND MONOPOLY PRICE

petitive conditions and $4 per pair yields to the producer
a fair profit, the price of these shoes can not permanently
remain above $4. For a time, it is true, before condi-
tions can readjust themselves, a seller may be able to
get $4.50 per pair, but as this yields more than a normal
profit, others will be drawn to the shoe industry and
competition will cause the price to fall until it reaches $4.

On the other hand, to the question, Why does mo-
nopoly price not rise higher than it does? the answer
given is: Because if it did, net profits would be less
owing to a falling off in sales for which the increased
rate of profit per unit would not compensate. Thus,
if for any reason monopoly should come to exist in the
production of shoes, those in the monopoly would no
longer be deterred from raising the price above $4 per
pair by fear of competition with other shoe manufac-
turers. They would, therefore, raise the price until the
decrease in sales would lessen net profits.

This explanation is usually considered wholly ade-
quate to account for the limit to the tendency of mo-
nopoly price upward. It is undoubtedly correct as far
as it goes. But does it go far enough? Does this
enable us to compare the influence that keeps monopoly
price from going higher with the influence that keeps
competitive price from going higher? In the case of
the sale of shoes under competition, the seller can not
get more than $4 per pair because if he asks $4.50, the
would-be purchaser will go to another dealer, and these
two sellers of shoes are said to be competitors because
they are rivals in seeking the patronage of purchasers,
each trying to attract customers by offering a better in-
ducement than his rival in the shape of a lower price.

When it is said that monopoly price is kept from
going higher because of the loss in net profits that would

HOW PRICES ARE DETERMINED 2$

result from the falling off in sales, it becomes important
to inquire why there would be a falling off in sales.
Why, in the illustration given^ of the method of deter-
mining monopoly price, are but 1,800,000 sold yielding
$126,000 when the price is 7 cents, while 2,500,000 are
sold for $150,000 when the price is 6 cents? What
becomes of the $24,000 that is not spent for this com-
modity, when the price is raised to 7 cents? To these
questions the manifest answer is: When the price
is raised from 6 to 7 cents, purchasing power to the
extent of $24,000 is diverted into other channels. It
goes for the purchase of other commodities which are
preferred to this commodity at a price of 7 cents.

This fact suggests another query: What relation
do the sellers of the other commodities sustain to those
who sell the commodity assumed in the illustration?
Here, again, the answer is clear : They are rivals
for the patronage of purchasers ; that is to say, they are
competitors. True, competitors are often spoken of as
though they were necessarily rivals in the same business.
A moment's consideration, however, should suffice to
show that as business phenomena, there is no difference
in kind between the rivalry of those selling the same
sort of goods and the rivalry of those selling different
sorts of goods, so long as the rivalry results from the
fact that each is trying to offer such attractive induce-
ments as to lead people to buy his wares rather than
the wares of the same or different sorts offered by others.
The extent and force of competition in the business
world are but faintly appreciated by those who limit
their concept of competition to rivalry between those
in the same kind of business. As has so truly been said
by Professor Ely:

1 See above p. 17.

24 competitive; and monopoly price

"The competition of the market embraces not
only the buying and selling of a given com-
modity (like wood), but also the buying and
selling of all commodities. In this sense the
wood dealers compete with the grocers and the
tailors, as well as with coal dealers and with
each other."^

There is undoubtedly a difference between the rivalry
of those who sell like commodities and the rivalry of
those who seel unlike commodities. But this difference
does not lie in the fact that one is competition and the
other is not competition. Rivalry between those who
sell like commodities is probably, as a rule, more intense
than that between sellers of unlike commodities, but this
is a difference in degree, not in kind. This does not mean
that the difference is unimportant. The very fact that
in some instances the competition that exists is too feeble
to stop the upward tendency in price at the point which
suffices for fair profits, may justify steps to supplement
such inadequate competition. But the fact remains, and
its ultimate consequence is by no means slight, that it
is competition that prevents price from going higher
both in the case of competitive price and in the case of
monopoly price. In the ultimate analysis, the statement
that monopoly price is determined by the point that will
yield the largest net returns means only, so far as the
upward tendency of monopoly price is concerned, that
it is determined by the point which under the existing
condition of competition will yield the largest net re-
turns. And it is equally true of competitive price that
it, too, is determined in its upward tendency by the point
which under the existing condition of competition will
yield the largest net returns. This point in the case
of monopoly price may be much above the point in the

2 Outlines of Economict, p. 163. Not italicized in the original.

HOW PRICES ARE DETERMINED 25

case of competitive price ; but this is not due to the fact
that different kinds of influences set the limits. It is
due, rather, to the fact that competition works in each
of the two cases with differing effectiveness.

Taking up next the influences which keep competitive
and monopoly price from going below certain points, it
will be recalled that current theor)^ teaches that competi-
tive price does not permanently remain below social cost
of production, and that monopoly price is maintained up
to the point of maximum returns. The first question
to be considered here is: Why can monopoly price be
kept up to the point specified? Whatever may be the
forms which the answers to this query take, they will
amount practically to this, — because of the existence of
"substantial unity of action on the part of" the person
or persons engaged in the business, a unity of action
which results in control over the supply of that which
the purchaser seeks to obtain. The monopolist, it is
said, "freed from competition, and governed only by de-
mand, is able to adjust supply to demand in such a way
that the price will stand at the point of highest net re-
turn.""

On the other hand, when competitive price is under
consideration, the reason assigned for its maintenance
at social cost of production is that if price falls below
this, some will go out of business, production will be
decreased, and price will go up. This answer is not
satisfactory because it involves the implication that price
has within itself some spontaneous force such that, once
influences holding it down are removed, price will of its
own accord go up. Price does not go up; it is put up.
If, in the case of the shoes mentioned above, competition
among the sellers results in the price being reduced to

3 Ely, p. 198.

26 COMPETITIVE AND MONOPOLY PRICE

$3 a pair, — $4 being assumed necessary to normal profits,
— it may be expected that in time some will go from the
manufacture of shoes to other fields where at least normal
profits can be realized. But this fact, even if it results
in the manufacture of fewer shoes, is not sufficient to
account for the restoration of the price of shoes to its
former so-called competitive figure, $4. So long as two
producers remain in the field and continue to compete.
price will continue to fall. Nor is this fact controverted
by the truth that producers can not continue indefinitely
to produce at a loss. The significance of this lies, not
in controverting the proposition that if producers con-
tinue to compete, price will continue to fall, but in the
fact that producers can not continue to compete indefi-
nitely.

Furthermore, the mere cessation of competition is not
of itself sufficient to explain the restoration of price to
$4, which may be called its normal point, and this for
the reason just given, that price does not move auto-
matically. If competition drives price below cost of pro-
duction, price will move up, as has been said, only when
it is put up, and it will be put up only when there is such
"substantial unity of action" among those remaining in
the business as to give a control over supply sufficient
at least to enable them to bring the price back again to
its normal point.

It is important to distinguish here between the fact
of "substantial unity of action on the part of one or more
persons engaged in" a business, and the method employed
to secure such unity of action, — a distinction fundamental
to this analysis, but often overlooked. When competi-
tion drives price below cost of production, "unity of
action" may follow merely because one person is stronger
than his competitors and is thereby enabled to hold out

HOW PRICES ARE DETERMINED 2^

until they are driven into bankruptcy, leaving him a
free field; or it may result from the purchase by one
of the interests of the others; or, again, it may arise
from an agreement between the competitors, — assuming
the absence of a law to the contrary, — by which they con-
tract not only to suspend competition, but also to unite
in raising the price; or, finally, the substantial unity of
action, without which price can not be put up, may come
to exist without bankruptcy, purchase, or agreement, but
merely as the result of an independent recognition by
each that he is a loser from unreasonable competition
and will be a gainer by spontaneously acting in union
with the others. The permanence and efficiency of a
unity of action that rests merely upon such a spontaneous
recognition of mutuality of interests will be less than
when that unity has for its basis an agreement or the
elimination of one's competitors, but as a business phe-
nomenon, unity of action is unity of action regardless of
how it is brought about or of its effectiveness. More-
over, it is this unity of action and not competition which
is responsible for the maintenance of price up to social
cost when it is so maintained.

One other explanation of the return of competitive
price to social cost calls for brief attention in passing.
Some have ascribed this to competition among buyers.
According to this view, competition among sellers keeps
price down to social cost and competition among buyers
keeps price up to social cost. Such a method of reason-
ing is nothing short of casuistical jugglery, worthy alone
of the modern prestidigitator, for if this is an adequate
explanation, we are forced to the conclusion that com-
petition is everything and explains monopoly price as
well as competitive price. The necessity of such a con-
clusion is apparent. If the return of price to social

28 COMPETITIVE AND MONOPOLY PRICE

cost, after it has fallen below that point, is to be ex-
plained by the competition among buyers which arises
when, owing to the low price, supply is decreased, an
analogous and equally valid explanation is to be found
in the case of monopoly price. It may be said that
monopoly price is kept up to its high point by the com-
petition among buyers which arises when the monopolist
decreases the supply which he offers on the market. Ac-
cording to this method of analysis, it is, then, competi-
tion among buyers that keeps both competitive price up
to the point of social cost and monopoly price up to the
point of largest returns. Add this to the fact already
shown, viz., that it is competition which keeps com-
petitive price down to the point of social cost and mo-
nopoly price down to the point of largest returns, and
the conclusion follows, as was said, that all price, mo-
nopoly as well as competitive, is determined by compe-
tition.

As a matter of fact, in so far as competition and
unity of action are opposing influences in their effect
on price, a valid analysis of price must begin by deter-
mining whether these influences are to be viewed as
they appear in the acts of sellers or as they appear in
the acts of buyers. Whichever standpoint may be
adopted, logical consistency requires that it be retained
throughout the analysis. In the present case competi-
tion and unity of action are viewed as the acts of sellers,
because this seems the most common way of looking at
them. Such, for example, is the case when competition
is regarded as the safeguard of society against extor-
tionate price to consumers. The competition here meant
is clearly competition among sellers. Similarly, when
monopoly is said to lead to exhorbitant prices, the mo-
nopoly thought of is a monopoly on the part of sellers.

HOW PRICKS are; determined 29

From the standpoint of the sellers, then, it is sub-
stantial unity of action on their part which is responsible
for keeping price up to social cost, when it is so kept up.
But, as was seen, it is also substantial unity of action
which enables the monopolist to keep price up to the
point of highest net returns. Moreover, the unity of
action which is effective in the case of competitive price
is a phenomenon in no whit different in kind from the
unity of action which is effective in the case of monopoly
price. Such difference as exists is wholly one of degree.

Lest the point here made should be misinterpreted,
it may be permitted to repeat what was said in a similar
connection in describing the relation of competition to
competitive and monopoly price. The fact that it is the
same influence which keeps both competitive price and
monopoly price from going lower, the difference being
one of degree, not of kind, does not warrant the con-
clusion that the difference is unimportant. Were unity
of action to cease from further influence in increasing
price when it sufficed to insure the producer a fair re-
turn, there would be no trust problem. It is, then, pre-
cisely because unity of action, which is necessary and
useful to a degree, may and does go beyond the point of
necessity and usefulness, that the monopoly problem
exists.

Nevertheless, here as formerly the fact remains and
is of practical moment, that it is unity of action on
the part of sellers, involving a degree of control over
supply, which is responsible for keeping price up, both in
the case of monopoly price and in the case of competitive
price. Putting this conclusion along with the similar one
reached from an analysis of the reason why price does
not go higher, it will be seen that current theory errs
in two important respects : neither competitive price nor

30 COMPETITIVE AND MONOPOLY PRICE

monopoly price is determined by one influence alone;
nor do the influences which determine the one differ in
kind from those which determine the other. Both are
determined by the combined working (i) of compe-
tition and (2) of unity of action. When the former
predominates, price falls; when the latter predominates,
price rises; the actual price in any given case is the
resultant of the two.

Two other important modifications of current theory
follow as corollaries from the above analysis. First, as
to the concept of monopoly. It is customary to define
monopoly as such unity of action as gives the seller
exclusive control over price. ^ It is to be assumed that
the price referred to here is the price at which com-
modities are actually sold, and not merely the price at
which they are offered for sale. But, in fact, the seller
practically never has such exclusive control over price;
the buyer always has something to say about the price
at which a thing is sold, because he determines whether
he will accept the terms offered or will go elsewhere,
if not for the same kind of commodity, then for some
other commodity. Competition in some degree is present.

This does not, however, dispose of the monopoly
question, for the degree of control exercised by sellers
may be so excessive as to work most serious injury.
While, however, the rejection, as unsound, of the concept
of absolute monopoly does not dispose of the monopoly
problem, it does have a most important bearing upon the
direction in which a rational solution of that problem is
to be sought.

4 A frequent cause of confusion in discussions of monopoly is found in the fail-
ure to distinguish between "control over a commodity" and "control over the
price at which a commodity is sold." As was seen above (p. 18), Professor Ely re-
gards control over price as the distinguishing characteristic of monopoly. After
formulating his definition with much care, he says " Price is essential, and must be
regarded as the fundamental test of monopoly." Outlines of Ecoru>mic», p. 188.

HOW PEICEIS ARE DETERMINED 3I

The Other modification of current theory to which
reference was made has to do with its teaching as to
the condition essential to the existence of free compe-
tition. As was seen, it is usually taken for granted that
perfect fluidity of capital, labor, and business ability
would result in free competition. As a matter of fact,
such is not the case. What would result if there were
perfect fluidity is that competition would continue until
the fair, normal profits of producers were threatened.
At this point competition would tend to cease and unity
of action would predominate over competition, restoring
profits to their normal amount, and, perhaps, threaten-
ing, in turn, to make profits excessive, in which case
there would be a renewed preponderance of competition.
Current theory, then, is correct in teaching that under
perfect fluidity of capital, labor, and business ability,
price would equal social cost of production, but it errs
in assigning as the reason for this the existence of free
competition. It is due, rather, to the fact that under
such perfect fluidity, the relation of competition and of
unity of action would involve a balance at the point of
social cost.

A TRUST POLICY FAIR TO BIG BUSINESS AND
TO THE CONSUMER

This analysis of price and of the nature and working
of the influences that determine price has, as already
stated, some important bearings on the trust problem.

In the first place, the conclusions reached concerning
price show that the proposition that all contracts and
agreements which limit competition necessarily restrain
trade, is indefensible, at least as far as trade in the long
run is concerned. For, not to limit competition at the
point where its further action will result in loss to pro-
ducers means the ultimate bankruptcy of all but the
strongest. And when this point is reached, competition
is eliminated and trade restrained to a far greater degree
than when there are several producers still in the field,
even though they work together under some sort of an
agreement.

It may be admitted that the immediate eflfect of lessen-
ing competition is to restrain trade, for competition
means lowered prices and lowered prices mean, as a rule,
larger sales. So, even the competition that brings actual
loss to the competitors will lead to larger trade, but only
temporarily. When such competition has worked out its
inevitable result, it necessarily eliminates itself, and the
result is loss to all. It is a truism, that the interests
of the consumer quite as much as the interests of the

A ]PAIR TRUST POLICY 33

producer call for fair profits to the latter. The so-called
"rule of reason" as applied to the interpretation of the
Anti-Trust law in the recent decisions of the Supreme
Court in so far as it involves the principle that not all
acts interfering with competition, but only such as un-
reasonably interfere with competition, restrain trade, is
unquestionably sound. It is by no means improbable
that if this view had been taken in the early interpreta-
tions of the Anti-Trust law, industrial consolidation
would have developed at a much more moderate pace
and the trust problem would be less acute.

A second point suggested by the analysis of price
concerns the so-called "natural laws of competition,"
referred to in the Northern Securities case and not in-
frequently in the general discussion of the monopoly
question. What are these "natural law^s of competition"
whose unimpeded operation conduces to public advan-
tage? One might suppose, from the common use of the
term, that there are certain well-known laws of compe-
tition natural to industry somewhat as there is a law of
gravitation natural to the physical world. Especially is
such an assumption warranted when, without stating
these natural laws of competition, they are referred
to, not incidentally, but as fundamental to the interpreta-
tion of a most important Federal law by the Supreme
Court. But search for these laws is vain. No treatise
on law or economics supplies them. They have never
been formulated. They do not exist. As a matter of
fact, the expression, "natural laws of competition," is but
a method of referring to the widespread but largely un-
analyzed opinion that "competition is the life of trade."
Such crude concepts will no more suffice as the basis of
a policy that is to govern the business of to-day than
untested steel suffices as a basis of the vast engineering

34 COMPETITIVE AND MONOPOLY PRICE

works of modern industry. When subjected to analysis,
as has been shown, the natural results of competition,
if left to itself, are its own destruction and public injury.
As was noted at the outset, the "present trust policy
seeks to eliminate certain forms of industry to the end
that the field may be left to free competition, in the
belief that free competition will insure fair price. Ref-
erence has also been made to the fact that up to the
present, that policy has failed signally to accomplish the
results expected. The measures thus far adopted have
not secured the unimpeded working of competition.
Not that these efforts have been wholly fruitless, but
that the consensus of opinion is that an effective solution
of the trust problem has not yet been enacted into law.
Various reasons for this failure are assigned and cor-
respondingly various remedies are proposed. Their de-
tailed consideration need not be entered upon here. The
point that calls for emphasis in this connection is that,
if the above criticism of the current views of price is
valid, the measures already adopted were foredoomed
to failure, as will be all other measures which rest upon
the same basis. And for this reason : Granting that
social cost of production, i. e., the expense of production
to the individual plus a reasonable profit, is the correct
standard of a fair price, this standard can not be reached
through competition alone. The indispensable requisite
for securing a fair price is to secure the proper balancing
of competition and of unity of action, the former insur-
ing fairness to the consumer, the latter insuring fairness
to the producer. Whatever may be the details of the
policy when they are worked out, this is its starting point,
and the sooner it is recognized, the sooner may we expect
to discover the specific measures necessary to a rational
and effective policy.

A FAIR TRUST POLICY 35

Given this as the basic consideration, the next step
will be to determine the method by which the desired
balance of competition and unity of action can be se-
cured. As shown above, under a condition of perfect
fluidity of capital, labor, and business ability, the balanc-
ing of these two opposing influences would be automatic.
On the one hand, if consumers were called upon to pay
too much, the exceptional profits afforded by the high
price would attract other producers, and competition
would compel a lower price ; on the other hand, if pro-
ducers failed to secure a fair return in any field, such
changes among producers would take place as would
result in the unity of action necessary to force price up
to the point of fairness.

But capital, labor, and business ability are not per-
fectly fluid. This fact is recognized in the current theory
of price, but the method of meeting it involves a serious
omission in that theory and a fatal flaw in the policy
based upon it. It will be recalled that according to this
theory^ not all capital, all labor, and all business ability
need be fluid to secure fair price. The existence of some
free capital, some free labor, and some free business
ability seeking a field for operation is considered suf-
ficient. But is it? To what extent may fairness be
expected from the fluidity of that portion of capital,
labor, and business ability not yet employed in industry?
Manifestly, the fairness insured by this is fairness to the
consumer and to the consumer only. It is the prevention
of high prices, i. e., the conservation of the interests of
the purchasers alone, that can be expected from this
partial fluidity. What, meanwhile, of fairness to the pro-
ducer ?

It is a striking and an important feature of the
present industrial policy and of the public opinion back

5 See above, p. 15.

36 COMPETITIVE AND MONOPOLY PRICE

of it, that the consumers' interests alone are thought
to demand special consideration. It seems to be assumed
that the producer can take care of himself. If the matter
ever enters the mind, it is probably dismissed with the
thought : What need of protection has the modern trust
whose resources are to be reckoned in millions ? Whereas,
the very magnitude of the interests at stake intensify the
necessity of adequate means for their safeguarding.

Furthermore, the efforts in behalf of consumers have
often led to measures denying to producers the only
means by which they can defend themselves, viz., an
effective unity of action. In defense of such a policy
may be urged the danger of the abuse of the power
which unity of action gives, if it is permitted to exist.
This danger is a very real one. and herein lies the crux
of the problem : How can the interests of the consumers
be conserved while allowing to producers the unity of
action which is indispensable to them? On the one hand
is the trite but true fact that unrestrained freedom to
combine is intolerable. But, on the other hand, is the
equally true fact w^hich, whether trite or not, can not
be too strongly emphasized, that no policy looking to
fairness can be expected to succeed which does not pro-
vide fairness for the producer as well as for the con-
sumer.

While it is true that perfect fluidity of industrial
agencies does not exist and has never existed, this fact
has not always been as serious a handicap as now, to
the attainment of a fair price through the spontaneous
working of business influences. During the early part
of the nineteenth century, when the idea was taking
shape that competition is adequate to the regulation of
general industry, if only it can be allow-ed free play,
the character of business favored the so-called "let alone"

A FAIR TRUST POUCY 37

or self-abnegation policy. Though it was equally true
then as now that fair price is the result, not of compe-
tition alone, but of competition and unity of action co-
operating, the failure to recognize this fact and the con-
sequent glorification of competition was not a serious
mater. Among the features of the industry of that time
which favored the "let alone" policy were the small
size of business units, their varied character, the rela-
tively small part played by capital and especially by fixed
capital, and the individual or partnership form of or-
ganization.

When industries were small and markets correspond-
ingly limited, competition among producers was not so
intense as now. Moreover, there was frequently a per-
sonal relation between producer and consumer which
conduced to mutual fairness. The impersonal modern
corporation was then the exception. Again, the fact that
each industry as a rule supplied a variety of products
tended to soften the effect of an excessive competition
in the case of some articles, as the seller might make
up for unduly low profits on them by correspondingly
high profits on others. The relatively small part played
by capital signified a larger fluidity of business ability.
Under such conditions it was easier for one to leave an
unprofitable field and betake himself to a profitable one, —
a transfer which was rendered easier then than now, too,
by the relatively small amount of fixed capital required
in industries. In short, business ability and capital, — and
for that matter, labor also, which had not yet become
intensely specialized, — were highly fluid, and even where
fluidity was lacking, conditions existed which tended to
prevent unfairness.

The contrast between the character of business at
the beginning of the nineteenth century and its present

38 COMPETlTnne AND MONOPOLY PRICE

character is marked. Large business units, immense ag-
gregations of fixed capital, intense specialization, cor-
porate organization, a world market, — these are the dom-
inant features of modern industry. And every one of
these, in one way or another, militates against the spon-
taneous realization of a healthy adjustment of competition
and unity of action through fluidity of the industrial
agencies or through the influences that tend to make up
for the absence of fluidity. The belief of some that the
advantages of big business can be secured to society
without allowing them the unity of action necessary to
their healthy conduct, is vain. Equally vain is the belief
that the public can without serious loss return to the
small business unit, or that a policy suited to the small
unit stage of production is applicable to the large unit
stage.

The sum of it all, then, seems to be clear in principle,
however difficult may be the working out of the details.

1. Fair price can be secured only by securing the
proper balancing of competition and unity of action. No
policy can hope for success which regards competition
as natural and beneficial in and for itself and unity of
action as abnormal and injurious. .

2. Since, under modern industry, the healthy balanc-
ing of competition and unity of action can not be at-
tained through the spontaneous working of business in-
terests, there must be legislation, and this legislation
must have for its object, not the impossible regime of free
competition, but the proper adjustment of both compe-
tition and unity of action.

3. Mere general provisions as to acts that are in
restraint of trade are not sufficient. The dividing line
between acts which in their ultimate effect do and those
which do not restrain trade is altogether too indefinite

A FAIR TRUST POLICY 39

to suit the needs of business. The specific evils shown
by experience to result from excessive unity of action and
from excessive competition should be clearly defined and
explicitly forbidden, so that both the general public and
those who manage industry may know just what is and
what is not contrary to law.

A final word may be added concerning two criticisms
that will doubtless be advanced against the program sug-
gested. Some will say that it tends towards socialism.
In reply to this, it may be urged, and urged truthfully,
that the real promoters of socialism are those who per-
sistently pursue an impossible end in seeking to achieve
fairness by the aid of competition alone. They succeed
only in prolonging and intensifying existing evils.

Others will claim that the policy as proposed is im-
possible of realization. To this it must suffice here to say
that such a conclusion is not warranted until the policy
has been given a fair trial. Moreover, such fair trial
can not be had until public opinion ceases to deify "free
competition." Nor is such fair trial attainable until it
is recognized that there are good as well as bad possi-
bilities both in competition and in that unity of action
which, only when excessive, produces the evils of mo-
nopoly.

University of Cincinnati

Studies

Studies in Sophocles

By
JOSEPH EDWARD HARRY

Professor of Greek

ISSUED BI-MONTHLY FROM THE
UNIVERSITY PRESS, CINCINNATI, O.

ELECTRA

AGAMEMNON'S ARCHERY (568-69)

The boast that even Artemis could not surpass him in
marksmanship points to the fact that the weapon used in
bringing down the quarry was an arrow ('Ayafie/ivova koWlov
avTrj<: elirovTa ^aXelv), though the words of our text do not
inform us whether it was in archery the king was showing his
skill, or whether a javelin or some other missile was used. The
most vulnerable part of a stag is the neck: "Aim just behind
the shoulder — for a rhino . . . for other animals aim at the
neck . . . the neck shot is the knock-out blow " (Stackpoole,
TAe Pools of Silence, p. 74). A rare use of the word acfyay^
has led many editors to explain ov Kara <T^ayd<i by cuius in
iugulum. But Jebb is unquestionably right in his interpreta-
tion of the phrase — the preposition means touching, in the
matter of, as in the expression irapOevw Kara ro kuWo^ 8ia(f)€-
pov<TT) {Fo\yh. 10. 19.3), ra Kara TeWoy (Hdt. 1.3 1 ), whereas in
his construction of iKKOfnrda-a'i, of Tvy')(^dv€i, and in his explana-
tion of Tvyxdvet ^aXo)v, the great English scholar is, as it seems
to me, undoubtedly wrong ; and, speaking generally, editors
have succeeded in arriving at the truth only in part — one here,
another there, but no commentator (explicitly) in all parts of
the sentence.

To state my view at the outset, Electra means : " With a
boast about the slaughter of which, he shot and hit." We have
here precisely the form of sentence we find in Plutarch, Serto-
rius II ve^pov Xafi/Sdvet Sioi^a^. The theory that Sophocles
could have intended the first participle to be construed with
rvyx^dvei {/3a\(ov swinging off to itself at the end) is untenable ;

for the phrase is here parallel to irpe-^aro I3a\(i)v (Apollod.
2.5.4.3), fcarerrecpvev ^aXcov (4,14.86), eKreivev /3a\(ov (Eur. Fr.
495.31), avaipel ySaXwv (Pausan. 2.2.8), eTvxna-e /SaXdov (Nonnus
29. 42), Bdfiacr<T€v ^a\o)v (Quint. Smyrn. IO.81), To|eucra9 erpcoae
(Josephus, Afitiq. Iiid. 9. 121), And the Homeric eTv^nae ^aXoiv
(O 581) would certainly be present to the mind of the audience.
Cp. E 287, H 243, N 371, n 623, E 106. According to Liba-
nius (4.73) it was in archery that the king competed with the
goddess : ev AvXiBc t?)? 'A/Jre/iiSo? a/u,a6iav ei9 to^lktjv Karajvois
Kol <^r)(7a<i ovhev elvat irpo'i iavrbv eKeivqv iv cK^eaei /SeXcof . . .
erv^e^ tov OripCov . . . ' AXe^dvhpov r€TV')(rjKa<i. An exact par-
allel to the Sophoclean passage is found in Josephus, Antiq.
lud. 5.252 ^akovda Kara t^? Ke(f)aXrj<; rvj^duei.

2<DArH

Unquestionably a(f)ayi] is occasionally used in the sense of
* iugulum '; but this is not the tragic meaning of the word ; and
it is not common in any period of the language. As Aristotle
defines the term in this technical anatomical sense, 0-^0777 is
KOLvov fX€po<; avxevo<; Kal anqOovi (^H. A. I.14.2). Cp. 3. 2. 6 ei? rr]V
K€<f)a\^v . . . Slol Toiv a(f)aya>v. But it is questionable whether
a-ipayi] occurs anywhere in poetry in the sense of ' throat ' ; for
Aesch. Prom. 863 and Eur. Or. 291 are by no means certain
instances. The plural <7<^a'yaC is never used, either in prose or
in poetry, to designate the neck of a single person or animal
(except Aristotle, loc. cit.\

The word does not appear in Homer, the Hymns, the melic
poets, or in Aristophanes ; but it occurs frequently in the tra-
gedians : first in Aesch. Prom. 863 (where ^d^^aaa alone indi-
cates that the meaning is caedes, though many editors translate
by iuguhim). The remaining examples in Aeschylus are in the
Oresteia^Ag. 1057, 1096, 1389, 1599, Bum. 187, 450). There
are six examples in Sophocles — all in the plural except Ai. 919
— and not one has the meaning of 'throat.' Euripides has

more than two score of examples ; but there is not a single
example of a-cfia'yaC = iugulum. In Or. 291 reKova-q^ is an
objective genitive {cr<^a<yd<i = mactatio, in spite of Liddell and
Scott and the commentators). In later Greek ^din€.iv ^i(f}0<;
was not an unusual combination, and signified merely 'stab.'
The verb ^dirTeiv, like its counterpart in Old English {locasta
3.3 "bathe this blade"), meant 'dyed in blood.' Cp. Libanius
4.72 Kciv a-^drirj Kdirpov Kciv alfidTTTj f t(/)09. In classical Greek,
from Homer down, the verb signified * submerge ' ; there was
always present to the mind the physical image of dipping in
some liquid : t 392 elv vSari, Xen. An. 2.2.9 ^^^ acnriha, Apollod.
2.5.2.5 T^ X^^V- Other examples of (Tcfjayai in Euripides are:
I/ec. 522 o-?}? K6pr]9 (as in Or. 291), Or. 39 a(f)ayal<i davovcra,
Phoen. 1440 KaipCov;, Androni. 399 "E/cropo?, /, A. 906; RJies.
606 KapaTOfxov^;, 636 ixopaiixov;, 990 irapd cr<^ayah, Hel. 784, Ion
377, Fr. 781.74. In prose writers the word is extremely rare.
Antiphon has one example and this is in the singular {eyKara-
XtTTQiv TT]V fid^aipav iv rrj a(J3ayy). True, frcfjayi] is here sup-
posed to signify ingiiliim ; but compare the following examples,
where <j<^ayr] certainly signifies 'wound': Lucian 2.150 ri hi
KajeXtTTOv TO ^L<^Q(f)dT)(Tav avd re croiixa ttclv koX ava to irpoaoiiTOV,
4.18 yolpo'i i(T<^dyq vtto tov wfiov a^ayifv /Spa'x^elav. Appian,
like Xenophon, uses the word also in the sense of mactatio
(4.18, Xen. An. 3.15.4). No orator after Antiphon shows a
single example, except Isocrates and Demosthenes. In the
latter G^ayr] occurs but twice: 10. 10 (repeated in 19.260) and
Prooem. 42. The examples in the stately orator are: 5.107
(joined with Tapa')(^d<;'), 8.96 (with aTaaei^;), 12.122, 259 and
15.127 (with (j)vjd<;), 6.11, 148; 12.99, Epist. 9.8. Thucydides,
like Antiphon, uses the word but once : 4.48 ol(rTov<; . . . eV
Ta? acjja'ya'i KadievT€<i. Here the scholiast explains by * throat ' ;
and he is followed by all commentators. If this is correct, it

is the only example in classical Greek, if we except the Aris-
totelian a(f)ayi]. Plato and Xenophon, like Isocrates, use the
word regularly in the sense of caedes: Leg. 682 D ; Rep. 610 B ;
Epist. 327 D; Xen. Hell. 2.2.6; 4.4.2. So in the later his-
torians: Diodor. Sic. 17. 118; 4.54; 19.1 ; 36.37 and 40; 40.5;
Dio Cass. 43.22; 43.24; 61.13; 63.22; 66.25 (Orjpicov); 67.9;
69.22; 79.19; ^.r. 39.32; 39.65; 43.22; 43-37; 46.33; 47-5;
47.14; 37.42; 54-10; 54.26; 54.34; 56.27; 58.12; 60.14. Cp.
Polyb. 5.16.6; 6.9.9; 23.13.6; 30.14.5. So in other writers of
the post-classical period : Polyaenus 8.70, Porphyry, De Abstin.
1.7; 2.47; 4.20, Dionys. Hal. H. R. 20.16, Athenaeus 626 F,
Heliodorus I.I ; 2.5 %oa9 eird^o} Ta6v(i) 7) a(f>ajalaiv, De Gen. Soc. 4, Mar. 30 ;
44, Lysan. \^,J. Caes. 69, Cleom. 10, Agis 10, Philostratus, Ap.
Tyan. 8.27, Phil. Jun. Imag. 11.4. The later poets follow the
tragic usage: Lycophron 190 eV acf^ayaU /ce/ia? | Xai/xov irpo-
Oelcra, 440; 466; 8 10 a(f>a<yah aSeX^f;? Tj\oKicrfM€vo<; Beprjv, Nice-
tes, Df'o. and Char. 1.2 16; Theodorus, Rhod. and Dos. (seven
examples). So also regularly in Zonaras (14 examples). Cp.
Josephus, Antiq. hid. 7.39; 4.290 t4kvwv a^a'^T]. Sometimes,
however, the word is used in the anatomical sense in later Greek :
Lucian 2.158 i7rr]je tt^v a(f)a'yi]v, Plutarch, Lncnl. 18 T7]v (T(f)ay7)v
'TrapecT')(p>,J. Caes. 16 arcayayovra rov rpa'^^^Xov to indrLov . . .
rrjV acpwyrjv irapea'yev (cp. 69 rw ^i(^eL <yv/jLvu) irpocr^aXcov to crTep-
vov), Ant. 12 (repetition of the phrase iny. Caes.), Brnt. 31 xa?
a(f)a'ya<; yvfivovvTa, Appian, B.C. 2.1 17 Kda-Ka^ S' e^ecrTco? vTrep
K€(f)aXr]0'; rjpeLae Trpcoro?, TrapoXtadev 8e
iveTe/xe to aTrjdo'i, Dio Cass. 69.2 e? ttjv apiaTepav avTOv a(f)ayT}V
iixireaeiv (cp. Demetr. Const. OrneosopJiion 253 alyo'i tov yap-
yapewva 0 koI a^ayr) XeycTai), Josephus 18.31 yvfivovvT€<i Ta<i
a(f)ayd<i (cp. Dio Cass. 36.5.7 ra? yacTcpa^ yvfivdxracrai,). But
Josephus uses 0-^0777 also in the sense of caedes {De Bello Ind.

2.197; 2.473)' The last example is followed by 6\ov et? rrjv
iavTov a-(f)ay7]V i/SaTTTLo-ev to ^C<^o<i (476). Cp. 3.390 Trapelx^v
TTjV a<^a'yr]V <U9 avrUa TedvTj^o/xevov. In Dionys. Hal. Rom.
Antiq. we find a passage which might be cited in support of
the theory that acjiay^ in Prom. 863 and Soph. El. 568 signifies
iuguliim (though in my opinion it does not), and, incidentally,
as lending color to the theory that Tvyx^dvet in the passage we
are discussing means * hits ' : rvyx^dvet ttco? Kara Trj<; (T^a<yrip€vov koI tie')(^pi, tcov
airXdyxvoiv ^d'\{ra<; to ^i(f)o<i (3.458). Cp. 1 1. 225 2 ; 1 2.4 to |t^09
^dyjrai Kara Trj^i a(f)a'yrj<;. Galen, like Aristotle, uses acpajij in
the sense of iiigtihim. ttjOo? avTrj fieu crcfyayy KvpTrjv . . . tt/jo?
T^ a(f)aj7} . . . a7ro)(copelv tt}? crcjia'yrj^;.

But even granting that cr^a<yr} occurs occasionally in the
sense of * throat ' (hardly outside of the anatomists and physi-
cians, if we except Dion. Hal., and the various descriptions of
Caesar's death), there is a strong presumption in favor of the
theory that Sophocles employs the word in the usual sense of
mactatio of the tragic thesaurus. And so the audience would
most certainly interpret the word.

So far I agree entirely with Jebb, and differ from Monk,
Musgrave, Nauck, and G. Wolff (who take /cara in the sense of
bei dem\ and from Bayfield (who translates Kard by in going
after). But in the interpretation of the rest of the sentence I
differ widely from Jebb. I am convinced that it would not
have occurred to a Greek audience to associate Tvy^^vei with
iKK0/x7rdcra<; rather than with ^aXcov. Not only is the rhythm
against such a construction (^aXcov being left oddly isolated at
the end), but the ear would naturally, under any circumstances,
combine Tvyy^dvei with ^aXdav, even if the phrase were not the
common one for expressing the very act here mentioned. Be-
sides, eKfco/jiTrda-a^ is the subordinate idea (not the other partici-
ple) and falls in naturally (both in order and in sense) with ov
KUTo, a-(f)ayd';, as a preliminary to the chief thought of slaying

the deer. Even from a grammatical point of view it is better
to take rvfx^dvei, (in the sense of 'hits') with the participle
which follows rather than with the participle which precedes.
Syntactically, the phrase e/c/co/A7racra<? Tvy^dvei may perhaps
stand, in spite of the fact that an exact parallel is hardly to be
found in Greek literature.

THE PRESENT INDICATIVE OF TTrXANH WITH
THE AORIST PARTICIPLE

There are nearly three thousand examples of rvyy^dvo) with
the participle in the extant literature ; yet we may fairly say
that Tvyx^^vet with the aorist was not used ; for we can count
on the fingers of one hand all the real examples of the construc-
tion — only eight in classical, and one in post-classical Greek.

We may discard Eur. /////. 388 at once, for the poet wrote,
not eVetS^ Tvy')(^dv(o jrpo'yvovcT ija>, but (^povoxxj iyd). In Isoc.
4.103 (rvyx^vovat 7rpd^avT€<i) the verb is generic; and the
example in Dem. 52.9 cannot be counted at all, for the double
KUL shows that the only participle to be taken with ruy^dvei is
Mv, which is followed by adjectives : 0 Avkojv rvy^dveL oiv koI
diraL'i Kal K\r)pov6fj,ov-ov86va-KaTa\i.7roiv. There was no adjec-
tive for the orator to use to correspond to dirai^, and he was
practically forced to make a temporary compound ; if he had
lived in a later age he might have said Kal diraL'i Kal ukXtj-
povo/jLrjTof. In Soph. Tr. 370 and Eur. PAoen. 49, we find the
present of rvyxavco with fxadcov. This leaves only three ex-
amples : Eur. Bacch. 1140 oirep Xa^ovaa rvy^dvei-, Soph. Tr. 695
Tvy^dvo) pty^acra, Isoc. 14. S7 Tvyy^dvoixev et? u/xa? virdp^avTe'i.
And there is only one example in later Greek : Dion. Hal. Rom.
Atitiq. 1.50 Tvy^dvovat . , . avXiadfievoL (eleven words inter-
vening). Perhaps one more sentence in Dionysius may be
counted : 3.458 iroWa fiev rpav/jLara Sow, ttoWo, Be avTO<; \ajBoctv
Tvy^f^dveL 7ra><i Kara ri)^ a(f)ay7]<i aurov ^dyjra<; to ^i(f)0<i Kal Sia-
')(pT]adfievo<;, and rvy^dvovaiv . . . evdyKavre'i.

TTrXANEI BAAHN

These words are used precisely as Herodotus employs the
phrase : el tov TratSo? ^aXoiv Tv^oi-fiL (3-55). Luckier than one of
the Danaids who attempted a similar feat 'qvTV')(eL ^aXwv (Eur.
/. T. 329); Agamemnon does not miss the mark, but (with a
vaunt) he brings the quarry down : fiia he avrcov, 'Afxvfjiaivj],
^rjTOvaa vScop piTrrei ySe'Xo? evrt e\a<^ov koI koi/jlco/jL€vov ^arvpov
rvy 'x^dvei (ApoWod. 2.1.4.8). Like the young hunter in Aelian,
Var. Hist. 2.44, Agamemnon may have hurled a javelin (a/cot-Tift)
fidWei Kal (TfcoTTov /xev erv^^e), or he may have thrown a stone
(so far as the evidence in the Electra shows) : \id(p ^aXcbv
cnreKTeLve (Apollod. 2.1.3). Heracles brought down his stag
with an arrow, and it was because he had killed the sacred
animal (not because he boasted of his skill) that he was cen-
sured by the gods (2.5.3.2). For the phrase compare 2.8.3.2;
2-7-3-3 ^aXcbv eireTvxe; 3. 1 5. 1.6. Both the context and the
idiom show conclusively that Agamemnon * shot and hit,' and
immediately eXa(f)0'i ^XrjOelaa eKetro (Aesop. 175). Cp. Xen.
Cyrop. 1.4.8 aKQVTiaa<i Kara/SdXXec tov eXac^ov.

The phrase rvyx^^^'^ /3aXdiv is so common that it is hardly
possible that the actor in reciting the verse would have divorced
the verb from the participle. Not only in classical, but also in
the post-classical, literature the combination is exceedingly fre-
quent. The examples in Homer are familiar. In the lyric
poets Tvyx^dveiv occurs most frequently in the sense of ' obtain,'
though we find rvy^dvei Xco^cofievrj in Sem. Amorg. 7.109, ^v
rvxji'i /cpivcov in Demod. 6, and rj/Jbevrj tv-^^oc in 7.1.

In Aeschylus the use of Tvy')^dv(o in the sense of nanciscor
is most frequent (30 examples) ; in the sense of happen there
are really only two instances {Cho. 6Z?) and Enm. 726).
Sophocles, on the other hand (though he has 33 examples
= nanciscor), uses the participial construction very often. But
EL 568 is the only passage in which the poet has occasion to

employ the verb in the sense of ' hit the mark ' (except Phil.
223). Aristophanes and the prose writers differ httle from the
tragic poets. For the usage in prose compare the following :
Hdt. 1.43 rov jjLev afiaprdvei, TV'y)(^dv€L Se tov K.potaov TratSd?,
Thuc. 7.85 6t€v 8' av TV'x^rj, Xen. Cyr. 3.27 irapeXavpovro^i
^epavXa rvyx^dvei . . . rivo^ '^'t^X^> Antiphon II. a 4 eru^j^e tovtov,
III. /3 7 Tou TraiSo? eru^ev, V. 4 ovjrep erv^ev, Arist. Rhet. 1.5. 17
TOV ttXtjctlov erv^e, Hdt. 3.78 wee re to iy^^^eipiBiov Kal €Tv^e /co)?
TOV fidyov, Dio Cass. 34.34 /3dX\ei uai tto)? Tvy^dvei avTi]<;,
Diodor. Sic. 14.23 tv^cov tov /Saa-LXeco';, 17.88 TrdvTcov (sc. ^eXo)v)
iTTiTvy^^avovTcov, 2. 19 TO^evaa^ ^^^X^ "^^^ /3pa')(^L0V0<;, 3.25 eVt aKO-
TTOv ySaXXety . . . Tol'i imTV^ovcn, 1 7.60 tovtov fiev rj^apTe, tov
8e TrapeaTOiTO'i . . . KaTaTV)(^cbv KUTe/SaXe, Dio Chrys. 64.336
cTKOTTov . . . eTV')(e, Hediodorus 9.18 d8La7rTct)Too<; eTvyxa^ov, Ar-
rian, Cyneget. 36.1 Tvyelv . . . t?)? yirjpivOov . . . t?}? 6pvLdo<i
Tv^elv, Libanius, Dec/am. 4.384 eTv^^ov tov ctkottov, 3.284 /SeXeL
(TKOTTov TV)(dv, Lucian, Hermotimos 1.768 €TV)(e TaXr)dov<;, 774
o-TO^d^ovTai . . . 7}V TV-ycoGL . . . opvidcov evLOL Tvy^^dvovcriv, Pausan.
8.45.2 To^eveL TOV vv Koi eTV)(^e irpcoTr] tov d-qpCov, Philostr. Jun,
Iinag. 109, Plutarch, Crass, ii, Artaxer. 15 tov 8e KpoTd^ov
TV^oiv, De Gen. Soc. 13 aKoirov fidXXovTa koI TV^^elv rjSv Kal Bia-
fiapTclv aviapov, Stob. Vol. VI. p. 39; Nonnus 17.200 TV')(^ev
'TXaioio, 17.209 TV^^Qiv XaarioLO fxeTcoTrov, 28.126; 28.162 ; 37.626;
37-73S ! 39-313 ^(^"TOV e/3aXXe . . . UKpoTdTrj^; eTv^rjcrev . . .
e^aXXe Kal ovk eTvj^r^cre . . . o(f)pa Tv^ijarj, 43.112; 45.205,
Quint. Smyrn. 2.238, Zonaras, Hist. Epit. 8.20 eTi';]^€ tov gkqttov.

Jebb objects to the explanation I have proposed on the
ground that " the vaunt would naturally follow, not precede,
the hit," and cites Schol. on Eur. Or. 647 Kav)(T)cydp.^vo<i Se kirX
T-Q iiTLTV^La Kal eliroiv tw? ovK av avTrj 97 "ApTCfxi'i ovTCO'i e^aXev,
Proclus, direst, p. 455, and Tzetzes on Lycophr. 183 Tpd)(ra<i
€Xa(f)ov fxiya Kav^^aa^ ecfyOey^aTO ovtco^' OvSe 77 "Apre/xt?.

But how do we know that Electra, in her casual reference
to the boast, is so accurate in her statement of the sequence ; or

that she even knows whether the vaunt was before or after
the actual discharge of the missile ? In any event, the two acts
must have been well-nigh simultaneous ; and it is conceivable
that the boast preceded, or accompanied, the arrow's flight.
The fact is, Electra, as she mentions this incidental circum-
stance, is not thinking much about the sequence of the acts ;
she is merely narrating the story loosely, of her father's shoot-
ing and boasting. Jebb himself would probably have construed
rvyxdvei with ^a\u>v (if we may judge from the tenor of his
note), if he had not held Electra too strictly to account for the
accuracy of her statement. And I am inclined to think that
€7ro9 Ti is not used chiefly for euphemism, but to indicate the
fact that Electra has only a vague idea (o)? eyoo kXvco) about the
whole occurrence.

In re-reading the later literature for this (and other) articles
I was curious to see whether any forms of the perfect subjunc-
tive had escaped my observation in my first reading many years
ago. I was glad to discover that I had collected, apparently,
all the examples. A few months ago I received a letter from a
European scholar making inquiry on this subject: "j'ai appris
que vous aviez vous-meme public une importante etude sur
'The perfect forms in later Greek.'" In acknowledging the
receipt of the article, he takes occasion to say: " j'ai lu votre
brochure avec grand interet et profit. Peut-etre sera-t-il interes-
sant pour vous de connaitre quelques formes que je n'y vols pas
mentionnees et que j'ai rencontrees dans Hippocrate : Karerj'yrj
(5 fois), hehoUcocTL, eKire-mdaKr] (8 fois), ippcoyrj, rrecfiVKT], t€TV^^i]kt]<;."
Now, I had myself collected all the examples of the perfect sub-
junctive in Hippocrates (whom I had for special reasons ex-
cluded from the Hst in my paper on the perfect subjunctive in
classical Greek), and I refer to him here solely because Tf7%aV&)
occurs in the perfect tense of the subjunctive mood in this
author alone. The only example of rervxv'^f^ in either classical
or post-classical Greek appears in the second person : Tervx^i'^u'^

(^De Fract. 5, Litt 434). The other examples of the perfect
cited above are presents.

The physician has to do with symptoms and conditions. Per-
fects are adjectives with the verb eivai, and participles are adjec-
tives alone : pk o^ela, ocfiOakfiol koVKol, Kp6ra<^oL av^TreirraiKOTe^,
a>Ta yjrv^^pa koX crvvecrraXfieva KaX 01 Xo^ol roiv mtcov aTrearpafjifjie-
VOL Kol TO Sepfia . . . aKXrjpov KaX TrepLTerafievov KaX Kap<^a\eov
eov (Hipp. Prognost. 2). Hence it is not strange that a writer
who is obliged to represent the present condition of a past action
so often, to say eKTreTrrcoKe and ociXCaOrjKe constantly, should now
and then find occasion to say, in his treatment of the subject of
dislocations, €</>' oTroVe/a' av eKireirroiKr] (3), 049 av earco eKTreTrrcoKr]
(51), oh av e? to ecrco ix€po<; eKTreTrrayKr] (55), « av e? roinrcadev
iKTreTTTOiKr] {$?)> ^^ ^^ ovrco<; iKTreTrrcoKT] (59)1 olaiv av dXXco'i
iKTreirTcoKT) (60), or even rjv fir) •qSr) vtto '^^povov crdp^ fiev eireXr^XvOr]
iirX T-qv KorvXrjv (7) — all of which are in the same treatise.

I had intended to reserve rerv^vx^V'^ for my paper on (^ddvco,
Xavddvco, and rvyx^dvoj in later Greek, but the letters from which
I have quoted extracts above prompted me to mention the form
here. Probably no other author would have used rerv^vx^rj';.
Any other classical writer would have said ktjv /ier/aiW to irpcoTov
TV^J]^ eiTthr^aa^.

ELECTRA'S WRATHFUL FURY (610-11)

In the Classical Quarterly (v. 3) I attempted to show that
(i€vo<i irveovcrav was a corruption of fxevet crvvovcrav, that is, opyi)^
KaX /jL€vov<; ip-TrXrjp.evq (Ar. Vesp. 424). I add here a few more
facts in support of the emendation, and discuss the scene more
fully.

Clytemnestra takes up (f)povTi8a and exclaims : Trota? S' ifioX
Sel TrpoV ye TtjvSe ^povTuSa ; She is not answering a criticism ;
her remark refers particularly to Electra's final declaration ;
and this KaraLaxuva is an echo of her mother's ala-'xyveLV (518),

KaKoa-To/xovfjLev (596), avaiSeiat (607). Electra mockingly turns
the edge of her mother's weapon on herself. Now the chorus,
observing Electra's wrathful fury, reprove her very much in the
same fashion as Antigone is reproved (471): 'the daughter is
not speaking crvv SiKrj, avv aia')(yvr)' Such is also the declara-
tion of Clytemnestra in her next statement {ala-'xyvri'i drep, 615).
Electra understands the reproach, and defends herself by main-
taining that she has ala-xvvr], despite her mother's belief, and
that she reaUzes she is doing what she should not; but her
mother's shameful deeds force her to act thus, whereupon
Clytemnestra bursts forth with a dpe/x/j,' dvaiSe?. Consequently,
<rvv SUr} means simply aSt'/cw?, dvaiax^vrco^.

Schneidewin's and Wecklein's interpretation {irveovaav, sc.
Clytemnestra), and Kaibel's and Bayfield's {^vveari, sc. Cly.) are
impossible. Both the context and the inclusive 6p(o — etaopco
show that the chorus is thinking of Electra alone. Jebb, who
recognizes a-vv hUrj ^vvecm as an unusual pleonasm, would
probably never have thought of his explanation, if the phrase
avp Blkt) (= 8i,KaiQ}<; here, as in Theogn. 197 avv SUrj koL Kadap(o<i)
had not unfortunately come immediately before ^vvean.

The simple phrase a-vv Oew is as old as Homer ; but in Aesch.
Cho. 148 Electra combines avv deolai koX yrj koI hUy. But the
usual form of the adverbial phrase in the sermo familiaris was
Iv Ukti (Ar. Eq. 258, Nub. 1332). This was also used in trag-
edy (Soph. Fr. 673), as well as simple ^Ut) (Eur. Fr. 834); but
frequently also avv hUr) (Aesch. Ei4m. 610, Find. P. 9.170).
But Hermann's interpretation is fully as objectionable as Jebb's.
If we read the Hnes aloud, we must feel that op<a fi€vo<; irveovaav
followed by el Se avv hUr) ^vveart (in the sense iKeivrj fievei ^vveart)
is harsh, whereas if we read opcb p-evet avvovaav, the rest of the
verses is perfectly smooth and harmonious. And this is pre-
cisely the kind of a statement we should expect from the tradi-
tional chorus, which is certainly not ascribing to the maiden
Electra such qualities as belong to the p.€vea irveCovre^ 'A%ato/,

or to the MapaOcova/jLci'x^ai, whom Aeschylus describes so vividly
as TTveovTe'i 86pv (Ar. Ran. ioi6). Indeed, Electra had begun
very temperately, but near the end she had suddenly become
angry (hence ov/ceri in 6ii), but surely the chorus would not
represent her as a Fury Trveovcrav fievo'; airavrd re kotov i^Eum.
840). Cp. Eur. Ale. 493 TTvp TTviovai fxvKrrjpcov diro, Soph. Ant.
1 147, 960 fiavia<i /ieVo9. Unquestionably Sophocles uses /LteVo?
here in the sense of iracundia, furor (not 'impetus,' ' pugnae
cupiditas'); and Electra is p-evet crvvovaa, as Ajax was pavia
avv(ov; and as avvelvac is av^rjv (^= ^(^prja-daL), p>€vei avvovaav is
equivalent to opyr} XP^I^^'^V^ {O. T. 1241).

It is worthy of note that the Greeks used opSy so often where
our blunt English would content itself with a bald statement of
the fact. If Electra were speaking, she would say Spare pe
avvovaav. So Antigone : opdr ep' . . . arei'x^ovaav . . . \eva-
aovaav . , . kovttot avOi'; (= areix^ - • • ^evaaco kt€.). Scholars
generally concede now, I believe, that opaTc in Aesch. Prom.
119 is indicative. Wecklein is an exception. He dismisses my
explanation with a curt reference to iaiBead' in 141 (the very
passage I cited in support of the other view — the aorist is used
both here and in 91, and in both passages the circumstances are
different from 1 19); but he fails to call attention to the far more ,
pertinent passage in which the sufferer reveals his identity to a
later sympathizing visitor : 7rvpo<; ^poTol<; horrjp' 6pa<; UpoprjOea
(612). Cp. 69 opa'i Oeapa SvaOearov, IO93 iaopa<; /a' (u? eKBiKa
TTcia'x^ci) (which would probably have been considered an impera-
tive, if the plural had been used). The Greeks did not use
opdre for tSere, iSeaOe ; moreover, they avoided ambiguity. An
occasion to employ the present seldom presented itself. From
my collection of over a hundred examples I cite the following :
Soph. O. T. IS, Ant. 712, P/n/. 159, Eur. Fr. 233 6pa<; yap irarepa
aov TLpcopevov, 301, 42O 6pa<; rvpdvvov<; Bid paKpcov rju^rjpevov^,
941, 1052, adesp. 493 6pa<i AUrjv, y6 opdre, 794, 1131, Ar. Eccl.
412 opdre p.e Beopevov acorr]piat.

EMENDATIONS

Verse 21

In ^vvaTTTerov Xoyoiaiv 6)<; iuraud' ifxev Sophocles wrote, not
0)9, but ou?. The paedagogus is saying that he must give ear to
words, and by this he means the words of Orestes, that is, the
plan of campaign which the latter is about to unfold; and
Orestes, with direct reference to ^vvaineov Xoyotacv ov<i, bids
the old man give sharp attention and listen closely to his words
(30). The paedagogus has already consumed not a little of
their precious time in pointing out to his former charge all the
famous places Orestes had yearned so long to see. But he
must not do all the talking. He must also listen to what
Orestes has to say, for iv rd^ec ^ovXevreop (16). Cp. 1335-
38 and 1368, Anth. P. 7. 562 ravveiv wra \6yot<;.

More than one hundred interpolations have been assumed
by scholars to have been made in the Electra alone. But with
this correction of <u? to ou? all scruples as to the genuineness of
the text must disappear. All the manuscripts give ^vvaTrreTov,
except E, which reads ^waineov. This change was natural,
for the paedagogus had just addressed both Orestes and
Pylades (15).

The particle fiev at the end of the verse falls into its place
as an integral and necessary part of the sentence — whatever
one might think should be done under other circumstances,
here at least ^vvaTrreov Xoyoicrcv o5?. This little word e/j-ev is
responsible for more than a score of emendations.

Verse 1458

In the transmission of the text through a period of two thou-
sand years it is not strange that Kava S' olyvvvac should coalesce
to form KavaSeiKvvvai, but it is strange that nobody has thought
of the correction which lies on the surface. The common
expression for ' open the gates ' was avoiyvvvai, ra? irvXa^i.

Sophocles has altered this in the smallest degree (from irvXa^ Be
Kavoiyvvvac) me tri gratia and at the same time to elevate it from
ordinary prose to the sphere of poetic diction.

Sophocles is very fond of tmesis, particularly with hi {El. 713,
A7it. 420, 427, 746, 1233, Tr. 925, O. T. 27, 432, 977, 1274.
And, as we shall see in 1468, Aegisthus is fond of separating
avd from its belongings by inserting some particle or adverb.

Verses 1466- 1468

The explanations of the commentators are all impossible,
for (fida-fia means ' spectre,' not ' spectacle.' In the post-
classical period both (})dafia and (pdvracrfia are used. So in the
tragic poets (Eur. Hec. 54 <^dvra<njLa, 703 (pdcrfxa). In Sopho-
cles (f>dafia appears five times, three in the Electra (501, 644,
1466), and all refer directly to Orestes. Neither word occurs
in Homer, who does say, however, T4pa<i (ftaiveiv (B 324). Cp.
Aesch. Ag. 143 (^dajxara <paivoop. In every instance <f)dcrfia is a
spectre, or a prodigy. It is always something supernatural,
something which partakes of the nature of a re/aa?. Electra
has been so strangely wrought upon by the sudden appearance
of Orestes alive, when but a moment ago she had thought him
quietly inurned, that if her father should now come back alive,
she would not consider it a Tepa^ (13 16). A <j>dafia is a dead
corpse that revisits the glimpses of the moon (e? ^ao9 fioXcov,
Aesch. C/io. 459). The Greeks believed that the spirits of the
dead may walk again, that they come like shadows, so depart.
A (f)d(Tfia is 0 (f)atv€Tat — it is the business of a (pda-fia to (f)aive-
a6ai. When the chorus call up Darius, they say : ^dvqdt
{Pers. 674). The phantom of Polydorus says: ^avqaofiai ev
KX.v8covL(p (Eur, Hec. 47). Hence a (fydafia is an apparition —
"thy mother | Appear'd to me last night; for ne'er was dream |
So like a waking" ( Winter's Tale 3.3). So Clytemnestra (644).
Chrysothemis reports that her mother had dreamed Agamem-
non had returned (419). This oi/rt? (413) has so preyed upon

her mind that she sends Chrysothemis with funeral Hbations for
Agamemnon's shade (406), Cp. Aesch. Cho. 523-25. For
many years the ungodly woman and her spouse have been liv-
ing in constant dread of the one spectre they had cause to fear
— Orestes. He had often sent dire threats (779). He is likely
to put in appearance at any time {y]^ovTo<i, rj iJb€WovTo<i, 318).
Clytemnestra cannot close her eyes in sleep night or day. Not
until she hears the welcome news that her son is dead does she
feel that she can pass her days in peace (786). The first ques-
tion Aegisthus asks is : rj koX Oavovr ijyyetXav <u9 iTr]TUfi(o<; ;
(1452). Both have been startled anew by the dream — "the
ghost of Caesar hath appear'd to me. ... I know my hour is
come." Agamemnon had come back from the spirit world : he
took the sceptre now borne by Aegisthus, planted it at the
hearth, and forthwith — avco ^Xacrjelv ^pvovra daWov. This
fruitful bough could have but one meaning — Orestes returned
to Argos. The guilty pair are thus wrought up to the highest
pitch of nervous tension ; for they have been for many months
eating their meals in fear and sleeping " in the affliction of those
terrible dreams that shake them nightly." And now, when this
ghost of Banquo that will not down bursts upon the usurper's
startled vision, Aegisthus, with ill-concealed joy and relief,
exclaims : &> ZeO, SeSopKU cfyda/jL av ev ^avov^evov j TreirTOiKo'i.
The ghost is laid at last, never to rise again.

Not only does ava^avovfievov express the thought required
{^avov/xevov corresponding to (f)dafxa, and avd being contrasted
with ireTTTcoKo^), but it is also the proper word to indicate the
?if/rising of a (j)da/j,a veprepcov. The commonest use of this verb
is to designate the /(^rising, or reappearance of something from
below. Cp. Hdt. 2.15; 6.y6; 7.30; 7.198; Lys. 14. 11, Ar.
Vesp. 124, Thuc. 4.36.2, Dem. 42.5, Aesch. C/io. 327 oTorv^erai
0 0 dvTjaKcov, ava^aiverai S' 6 ^Xdirroav.

The participle ireTnaKo^ refers to the actual ' fallen ' state of
Orestes — "I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried ; he cannot

come out on 's grave." Aegisthus has been "cabin'd, cribb'd,
confin'd and bound into saucy doubts and fears." The phan-
tom is now TreinoiKO'i (not ireaov), and being gone, Aegisthus is
a man again ; and so, recovering himself, he adds with hypo-
critical piety, " but whether Retribution brought about that fall,
I do not undertake to say." When he lifts the covering and
beholds the corpse, all further doubts (whether ve/xeat^ eireaTi)
are resolved, for avTrjv [xeTrjXOe ve^iea-L^ (Ael. V. H. 6.10), 77 e'/c
Oeov (Hdt. 1.34). Cp. Soph. Phil. 518, 601, Isaeus 42.34, Plato,
Leg. 943 D.

It seems to me clear that Electra's ttoOwv S' ovk. a^iol (fyavrjvat
(172) and 7roX\a/cf9 (^^/Lta? . . . 7r/3ou7re/u.7re9 (u? (^ai'ou/Ltei^o? (1155)
have direct bearing on the (f)avov/xevo<; in our passage. Orestes
was certainly expected to appear. But the spectre long expected
would be properly designated as avacf)avovfX€vo<;, and, as fore-
shadowed by Clytemnestra's dream, av^ ev ^avov^evo^. Cp.
1 102 ev 6' Itcdvei^, Tr. 228 ev /xev lyfieO' (' happy in our return '),
Aesch. Suppl. 219 ev re Se^acrdat ')(6ovL

This av ev coalesced into avev, the following ^avov became
<f)ovov perforce, and the wedded fiev — ov, being thus rudely dis-
lodged from their belongings, proceeded forthwith to do the
only thing left for the pair to do — get a divorce (when av ev
were united) and be content to live on as separate individuals
in blest retirement from each other in the guise of /Mev ov.

Since these new words made apparent sense, they were suf-
fered to survive ensconced in their comfortable corner. But the
dislocation gave a severe wrench to a passage just below; for
these two sets of verses hang together (1466-68 and 1477-78),
and the latter pair cannot be understood without reference to
the former.

When Aegisthus says Trerrrco^'' 6 rX^ficov, he inadvertently
uses the very word he had just applied to Orestes, and the lat-
ter immediately retorts : ov yap aladdvrj TrdXai \ ^Sv 6avov(nv
ovveK avTavha<i Xaa ; And Aegisthus responds ^vvrjKa toi^tto?.

The verb avravSav occurs nowhere else in Greek literature. It
means here 'to speak perversely.' A moment ago it was
Orestes TreTrrw/cw?, now it is Aegisthus. There is a reversal, a
TrepLTrereta, and the living is applying the same epithet (tVa) to
himself that he had applied to the (supposed) dead. The signifi-
cation of the preposition in the compound might be represented
by a kind of chiasmus : —

Aegisthus Orestes

/\.

ir^TTTwx' fv (pavotj/xevoi

Aegisthus Orestes

The Mss. ^Sv Tot? is thus preferred to the emendation made by
Tyrwhitt (^SvTa<i), approved by Musgrave, and placed in the
text by Brunck and by Jebb,

A full discussion of these three passages will be published
elsewhere.

ANTIGONE

ISMENE'S BURIAL OF POLYNEICES

Ismene says BeSpaKa rovpyov (536) — and we may take her
at her word, even though she adds eoTrep ^S' oixoppoOel. Her
chief desire has been to keep the burial a secret; but now she
is wilhng to share the burden of the charge and the fate of
Antigone, when she sees that her sister's doom is inevitable.

Just one year ago I made an acting version of the play for
a special performance at the Grand Opera House, Cincinnati.
A few minutes after the curtain fell, I was introducing an
American Hellenist to the young woman who had taken the
part of Ismene. His first observation was, "You succeeded in
making Ismene a positive character, whereas we have been
wont to regard her as negative." In this remark there is food
for thought. Were there not many subtle devices at the dis-
posal of the actor, and through him of the poet, whereby the
audience could detect facts which totally escape us moderns,
who are left to a bare inspection of the cold text .-' It is pos-
sible that we have foisted on Sophocles and Euripides just as
many absurdities as archaeologists and commentators, who have
not participated in athletic sports themselves, have foisted on
Myron and Homer and their successors. As Gardiner truly
says(G'r^^-^ Athletic Sports, p. 16), "There is no subject wherein
commentators are so rampant as in athletics, and there is no
athletic absurdity which they do not father upon the Greeks."

Now the incongruity in the Antigone (in the matter of the
two burials) must have been felt by ever}^ careful reader of the
play ; but it was left to Dr. Rouse ( C. R. XXV. 2) to point out

that the burial rites in one of these instances may have been
performed by Ismene. His arguments seemed to me cogent.
Only one doubt arose in my mind : " If this is so, why did
Sophocles not give us some hint of the true situation ? " Pos-
sibly he did — after the manner I have suggested — exits, en-
trances, steps, gestures, intonations of words. As an example
of the last let us examine verse 556. Ismene says aW' ovk iir*
app-qTOL<i <y€ Tot9 ifio2<i Xo7ot9. Scholars almost universally con-
sider this to refer to Kardavelv in the preceding verse. But with
the proper intonation of voice and gesture it could refer to ^rfv,
or to something which the speaker still desired to say. The
verse did not have this meaning for Creon, for Antigone, but
it could have this meaning for the audience, and, what is more
important, this is the natural meaning of the words, which are
interpreted otherwise by Creon and Antigone simply because
they are not in a position to understand them. The audience
has been let into the secret by this time and they know that
Ismene is merely making a declaration {sotto voce, as it were)
that she did the deed, and consequently is not justly censured
by her sister as having preferred to live; she committed the
pious act of impiety, and therefore could not be held to account
for her apparent disregard of the dead — "I did refuse to
say openly that I would bury Polyneices, and on that score you
may say that I chose to live " — ' but not on the basis of those
words of mine which remained unspoken.' These words the
audience had divined ; Antigone had not ; what she understands
her sister to say is, " But you did not make that choice without
my protest " (an " I told you so " that does not harmonize with
Ismene's bearing throughout this scene); but the deeper mean-
ing, known only to herself and to the audience, is : " If you
could take into consideration the words which were kept locked
within my bosom, you would not say et'Xov ^r]vy Ismene de-
clares that she is willing to be considered particeps criminis
(which she is de facto) \ she pleads with Antigone (544) to

allow her to share her sister's death (which does not argue a
cowardly Ismene), rov Oavovra 6' dyvLo-ac (have her act recog-
nized); and, finally (and emphatically), koI firjv icrr) vwv icrrtv rj
'^afiapTia (which takes on a truly Sophoclean deeper meaning,
if Ismene is not merely sympathizing with the act now, hence
equally culpable, morally, with Antigone). All this undercur-
rent of thought is, of course, entirely lost on her sister and on
Creon; but the import of each utterance is clear to the audi-
ence. In this whole scene, as in the first stichomythy of the
Hippolytus, "wo jedes Wort berechnet und fiir das ganze be-
deutsam ist," misinterpretation is more likely to find a place
than in any other part of the play, especially in the mind of a
modern commentator. Ismene's regard for the dead is not less,
but for a living Antigone more (82 &)9 vTrepSeSoi/cd aov, 85 Kpv(j>r]
Be K€v$e). And how do we know that she did not, when An-
tigone left the stage after their first interview (and entered the
palace to procure the shapely hammered jug of bronze.'') — not
out of contrition, perhaps, for her first refusal to share in the
consecration (|y/i7roz/7^cret9 kuI ^wepydcrr] ;), but out of love for
that sister who had called on her to aid her hand in lifting the
dead, and in the hope of saving her from a dreadful doom —
how do we know, I say, that Ismene did not go straight to the
field, where Polyneices' body lay, and perform the act which
the watchman describes as having been done as by one in haste
(XeTTTT) 8' dyo'i (^evyovro^ o)? e7rT)v kovl^) ? Such burial rites (in
which the corpse was merely lightly strewn with dust) were
more likely to be the work of one who wished to keep the act
securely hid, that the agent might not be discovered; that is,
the work of the erstwhile shrinking Ismene than of the fearless
Antigone. And it was easy for Ismene to escape observation
when she " did the deed " (since the watchman would at that
time be more careless, and, possibly, had taken a position even
more remote, to windward by a hilltop that the odor from the
corpse might not reach him), whereas, afterwards, when Creon's

dire threats were weighing heavily on all the sentinels, and they
were urging one another to vigilance, with frequent interchange
of threats, if one should shirk his duty, it was practically impos-
sible for the culprit to come upon the scene unobserved. So
when Antigone appears (long afterwards, Sophocles is careful
to inform us), the poet feels himself obliged to represent the
sky as being all in confusion with a whirlwind which raised a
cloud of dust that filled the plain, — in order to get Antigone
to the corpse without being seen, and thus be caught in the act.
Sophocles portrays Ismene as the more feminine, to bring out
in stronger contrast the heroic fortitude of soul of Antigone ;
but this does not preclude the possibility of his conceiving
Ismene, in her devotion to her sister, as capable of showing,
at the last moment, almost equally heroic bravery and self-sac-
rifice. As Dr. Rouse truly says, "those who seem weakest
often can be heroic for one beloved ; what many a woman has
done for her child, Ismene may do for her sister, in a sort of
frenzy of devotion." Furthermore, the first act could not
have been performed by Antigone, since she would have
been descried by the watchman. Sentinels had already been
posted (217), and Antigone would net have tried to evade
them.

We have one more hint, before the final scene between the
sisters, that Ismene had done something more than merely to
protest against Antigone's rashness ; for Creon declares he had
just seen her Xvaaoiaav ovS" iiDj^oXov cf^pevcov. The reaction
had set in ; and now at the last, when, in her deep affection, she
asks in anguish rt 8?}t av aWa vvv a ir wcpeXolfi ijco; (532),
and Antigone waves her aside with av fiev <yap eiXov ^rjv, iyo) 8e
KaTOavelv, Ismene's heart is at the bursting point, and she
exclaims, "But not before I tell you all" — and Antigone, not
understanding her, turns aside, sealing her sister's lips with
/caXco? <jv fiev roh, Tol'i S' iyco 'Sokovv (ppovelv. Whichever way
Ismene's utterance here is taken, the main thought is the same,

and this thought is not that she had forewarned Antigone of the
dreadful consequences, or protested against the course she had
determined to pursue, as verse 556 is usually interpreted.

Furthermore, why should Sophocles portray an Ismene so
entirely different from the Ismene of the Oedipus at Coloniis ?
In the latter play there is no such strong contrast between the
sisters. Ismene shows the same devotion to her sister there as in
the Antigone ; and she exhibits the same filial piety toward her
father as Antigone herself. True, she had had the ordinary
comforts of life, while she remained in Thebes ; but " they also
serve who only stand and wait " ; and Ismene was loyally wait-
ing and watching at her home in the interest of her father. If
the earlier play had never been written by Sophocles, it is ques-
tionable whether Ismene would not have been regarded in later
ages as almost equally faithful and noble as Antigone herself.
The blind old man could not go forth alone ; and it was Antig-
one's task to accompany him, Ismene's to guard her father's
interests in Thebes. In proof of her filial love and piety, of
her steadfast loyalty, and of her willingness to hazard much for
those she loved, we may cite the secret journey to inform her
father of the oracles which the Thebans had received. She is
not so heroic as Antigone; but she is not selfish. Her grief is
genuine, and her first words on appearing at Colonus indicate
how truly loving and loyal she was to those who had preceded
her to Athens : w Biaaa irarpb'i Kal Kacnyvqrr]'; i/xol | r/SLara
Trpoacpcovij/jiaTa. It was no easy task to find the wanderers, and
now that she has succeeded, she can hardly see them for her
tears. She had risked the secret journey; she has reached her
destination, but ovk avev n.6')(6ov (328); and she has come cr^,
irdrep, Trpo/x-qOLa (332), in spite of the iraO-qfiad' airadov (361).
Ever ready to act in her father's behalf, it is she that proffers aid
in 503 '• ''"ot? reKovat yap | oi^S' et Travel Tt?, Set irovov /xvrjfxrjv
i^'\;ety. And at the very end she is willing to die with Oedipus,
as she is willing in the Antigone to die with her sister : Kard fie

(j)6vLo<i "AiSa? eXoL \ narpl ^vvOavelv yepaio) | rdXacvav * <U9 e/xoiy
6 /xeXXcov /3to9 ov /3ta)T09.

ANTIGONE 778

TO fjLT} Oaveiv. If atrovfievT] had not preceded, the genitive
would have been used. There is not a single example of
Tvy^dveiv with the accusative either in classical or in post-classi-
cal Greek. In Aesch. C/io. 711 to, 7rp6a(popa and in Fr. 824 ra
Koi TO, are inner objects. Wherever the real accusative (outer
object) apparently occurs, some verb which requires an accusative
is regularly associated with rvy-^^dveiv (mostly alrelv). Cp. O. C.
1 106 alr6L<i a rev^rj (=a alreU rev^rj), Hdt. 5.23 rr)V irapa
Aapeiov acTTJcraf; erv^e . . . Scopedv, 9. 109 irdvra yap rev^eaOat
acT-qcraaav. There are more than one thousand examples of
Tvy^dvetv with the genitive in the post-classical Hterature, none
with the accusative, though many other curious constructions of
this verb appear.

AJAX

AJAX FURENS {Ai. 137-147)
I

If the text is sound, iTnro/xavi] means simply fxe^akofxavri, as
one scholiast asserts, in spite of the fact that of the many inter-
pretations this is not one of the three generally accepted by
scholars. Ever since man e^ev^ev iv ^vjoIctl KvotBaXa, the horse
has been his constant companion, the animal with which he
would most naturally compare his own size and strength. In
Greek, as in English, ' horse ' is used as a prefix to words to
denote strength, bigness, clumsiness, or coarseness : horse-
chestnut, horse-play, horse-nettle, horse-mussel, horse-mush-
room, horse-plantain, horse-fiddle, horse-pie. Mark Twain calls
shufifleboard 'horse-billiards.' Cp. the German Pferdekur,
Rosskastanie, wirkliche Pferdearbeit. A horse-radish exceeds
an ordinary radish in pungency, as the lirTroixavCa of Ajax
exceeds an ordinary frenzy in intensity. Lucian calls excessive
pride iTTTroTv^ia {Hist. Conscr. 45). The words of Aeschylus
are iTnro^d/xova (moving like horses, linro^d^ioaL Ka/xi]XoL<;,
Siippl. 284): quadrupedante putrem cursu quatit ungula cam-
pum; they are not appo^diai {Pers. 1072), but produce the
effect of cavalry marching : " As the sonorous nouns, flanked
by their polysyllabic epithets, advance, the earth is seen to
shake as though battalions were hurrying to the charge "
(Symonds). They are also iTTTroKprjfjiva, ' horse-beetling.' Aris-
totle speaks of a iTnTOfivpfxt]^ (//. A. 8.28.3). A large kind of
sorrel was called liriroXaTTaOov. Our ' horse-mullein ' was named
c7r7r6(f)\ofio';. One scholiast on At. 143 says ro <yap tTTTro? iirl
fieydXov rdaaeTai coairep lirTToaeXivov, and Pherecrates gives us

the phrase <ye\av linroaeXLvov {Pers. 2). Athenaeus cites a
iirTTOTTopvo';, and Aristophanes coins iinro^i.vo'i.

The madness of Ajax may have been, in the minds of the
jeering Danai, similar to the iTTTrofiavia mentioned by Aelian,
De Natura Ajiimalium 14.1 y : fioa koL uKaraa-x^eTco^ optia . . .
iXavveraL Be rrjv ■^v^rjp . . . fiavia (after he has become the
victim of the plotter who has served him, not the botanical, but
the zoological linroiiavei). In that case rov would be doubly
deictic, and would account in a special way for the spiteful joy,
or the horse-laugh of the Danai (Trdvrcov Kay^a^ovrcov, 198).

But is the text sound ? Should not the combination itttto-
fiavrj Xei/xcova make us hesitate ? Why should the poet lug in
the irrelevant iirTro/xavr^ and represent Ajax as going to the
meadow full of horses to kill sheep and oxen ? The translations
are not only interesting, but also significant. Donner's is so
ridiculous, because it is so good, so true to the original : ' In der
Rosse Gefild' einstiirmend. Das erbeutete Vieh . . . gemordet.'
Other translators evade the difficulty. So SchoU says simply: —

" im Waidegef eld
Einbruch Du thatst."

Campbell's rendering is : —

" To the cattle-browsed mead,
Wild with prancing steed."

But it is practically certain that the text is not sound ; for
Xet/xcov eTTL^dvT is not Greek; and oXeaai is not used of the
destruction of animals. If, however, we change Xec/xcov to
•X^etfjiuiv , not only does the thought become clear, but the adjec-
tive, which has given so much trouble, falls into its place as
a necessary part of the sentence. The alteration was due to a
misunderstanding of the regimen of ae (which is object, not
subject, of the infinitive) and ^ord (which is governed by /cret-
vovr, not oXecrai), and this misunderstanding grew out of the
unfortunate juxtaposition of oXeaai and Aavacav jBord,

My arguments for this new interpretation of the vexed pas-
sage will be published in full in the Classical Review.

11. innoMANH

Sophocles, I think, wrote liToyiavr), which a copyist mistook
for the more familiar iTnrofiavT], and this contributed to the
change of ^et/iwi'' i7n/3dvr (= orav 7r\r]jr] im/Sy in 137). The
poet has in mind not the meadow wild with horses, but the
storm of frenzy which with crushing force laid low the rugged
massive oak, the untamed Ajax, who as Tecmessa declares, as
soon as she emerges from the tent, doXepco Kelrai, x^i/xwvl (207).
So Typho was stricken by the KaraijBdr-q'i Kepauv6<; of Zeus, Kal
vvv KUTat LTTovfievo'i (Aesch. Prom. 365). The first hint of their
lord's condition is given by the mariners in their first utterance,
when they speak of the stroke of Zeus, who

drove the bolted breath
Through the cloud, to wedge it ponderous
On the gnarled oak beneath.

This hint is amplified and more clearly defined ((w? KciX t^5 vvv
<^Qniivr]<i vvKi&i) in the next breath : —

<Te Tov lirofiavT]
^€i/x(t)v iTTi^avr oXecrai.

The Itto? (Poll. 7.41) that fell on Ajax was not the crushing
weight that held Typho down (Find. O. 4. 11), but a x^'-P'^^ ^'^^-
KurappayeL^i (Plut. Mar. 21), which /xeya tyjraTO auroV (A 454),
and tyjraTo, Hesychius informs us, signifies Kare^Xay^e. Cp.
6eo8Xd/3eLa {= deoTrXrj^ia), ^Xayjricfipcov, efJ-Tjve /SXa^rj (Eur. /on.
520). The expression is more vivid than ^apv^avr)<; (Eur. Ale.
865 ^apvhaiixova); yet the meaning is practically XvcT<Toixavrj<i
{uTTo ■xj^ip.oivo'i jxavia'} iirov ixevo^ , Lat. ico\ Cp. Josephus, B. I. 2.
14. 1 i/SdpeL TaU ela<^opal<i, Lys. 28.3 Trie^ofievoi ra'a i., Ar. E^.
924 iTTovfxevo'i Tat<i i., App. Civ. $.6j Kara/Sapecv i. The storm

which the chorus has in mind is the Aeschylean TrapaKoira
^pevo8a\i]<; {Euni. 330) (f^pevoTrXi^ye'i fMaviai (Prom. 877). Cp.
cr(f>dK€\o'i as designating both the spasm of madness and the
convulsion of fierce winds, and also the expression Xvaarj'i wvev-
fiaTL ficipja) {Prom. 883). lo's turbid words fall in confusion
against the dark billows of frenzy (883 f.): —

Mes sens, des desirs emportez,
Flottoient, confus, de tous costez,
Comme un vaisseau parmy I'orage.

As lo calls her affliction a deoaavTov ^^Lficova (cp. At. 1414
o-ovadoo, ^aTci)), so Tecmessa designates the insanity of Ajax as
a do\€po<; ')(€Lfi(i)v, that is, a black tempest which has suddenly
rushed down upon his soul : 'x^ei/xbov a^voa Koi yv6(f)o<i ifxireacov, i.e.
iin^d<; (Lucian, Char. 3), jv6(f)ov Kara^avro'; (Peregr. 43). Cp.
Plutarch, Pyrrh. 2 doXepov ofi^pcov iirLyLvofxevcov, Tmiol. 27
6oXep6<; arjp, Hdt. 7. 1 89 o ^opj)'; eTreireae, Plato, Protag. 344 D
yeip-iov iirnrea-diiv. The verbs fiaivco and ttCtttco are used inter-
changeably— both in one verse in e 50: liiepLrjv S' im^af i^
aWepo^ efiireae ttoWoi) (cp. //. 14.225 i^ ^A66co 6' iirl ttovtov
i^TjaeTO, and Polyb. 3.55.2 iirl rrjv vTroKarco . . . iTri^alev).
Heaven's winged herald descends from Olympus to Pieria, which
he uses as a stepping stone, before he continues his descent to
the sea. So the storm comes on Ajax, only not so lightly, but
like a great weight, like an Itto?. In O. T. $18 the metaphor is
not used ; hence a different compound is employed (ere Trpoae'^rj
fiavia). Cp. Lucian, Piscator 8 0/37^ nXarwyo? . . . KaOiKono
av. This storm i'7rc/3a<; TrapaKoirreL cf)p€va<; (Eur. //?//. 238),
so that Ajax no longer eWo? eavrov /xevei (Hdt. 1.119), but eKTo^
o/xiXel {At. 640), eKirXaxraf; rSv (f)pevcov (Hdt, 3. 1 54). Cp. diro-
irX-qKTO'i, attonitus, sideratus, and for the formation Xvaaofiavt]';,
aivofxavri<i, rifii/xavi]';, iroXvfiavq';, olaTpofiavq'i, fT/Xo/iayr;?, ctKpo-
liavrj<i. The chorus has in mind the madness of Ajax and
not the meadow. Only ten verses later (153) they refer to it

again : rot? a-oi'; a-)(eaLv Kadv^pi^cov, which is repeated in 955 in
a way which leaves no room for doubt : jeXa 8e rolaBe fxacvo-
fievot^ d)(€cnv iroXvv jekcora.

Both Xeificov iTri^avr and oXeaaL ^ord are impossible, for
iirL^aiveLv is not used with the accusative in this way, and oXea-ai
is never employed of the slaughter of animals. See my article
in the Classical Review. The infinitive oXeaai, after the trans-
formation of ;!^€i/Lt(yi/' to Xet^jLwv, was taken with ^ord, because
there was no other way to construe it ; and the juxtaposition of
verb and noun made this regimen particularly easy. But verses
I37ff. are merely expanded in 143 ff. into a more definite state-
ment of the facts ; and if we adopt any one of the many tradi-
tional interpretations, we give only half the story, and that the
least significant (the chorus are thinking mainly of their lord's
affliction, not of the cattle) — oXdaat . . . aLSijpo) is an amplifi-
cation of Xo'709 ^afiev7]<;, but 7rXr]<yr] Ato? finds no counterpart
anywhere in the text of our manuscripts. As soon, however, as
we restore lirofxavr] ^eL/xSv, the gap is filled, and all the require-
ments satisfied. The chorus are saying that they have heard
that Ajax by Frenzy was undone in the night just fled. So Ajax
himself says in 440 (diroXXv/xaL). So Tecmessa reports in 216 :
{lavCa dXov<i . . . vvKTepo^ Ata? aireXoi^ijOr]. So Ouintus
Smyrnaeus in speaking of this very incident (5.542) : TpiT(ovi<;
. . . iaKeSaa-ev Mavirjv . . . 'jrveiovaav oXeOpov. Cp. Ai. 40 1
aXXd fi . . . oXedpiov alKi^et,, 452 €a(f)TjX€v ifji^aXovaa Xvacroih-q
voaov, ware . . . '^eipa'i al/jid^ac j3oTol^ ( = Xvacraihr] ^eiyUcSi/'
eiri^dvT oXecrat coare Kreivecv). Both the position of ere (cp. 136
and 137) and the general sense favor this construction (ere as
the object, not the subject, of oXeaat). The undoing of Ajax is
the main idea of the sentence, and ^ora ktcivovt' follows as a
subordinate thought, as an outward manifestation of their lord's
condition. The mariners do not know that it was Athena that
put the Sv(T(f)6pov<; ryvcofxa'i iir^ ofifiaa-i ; hence they use the gen-
eral term 'storm of frenzy,' and they represent this as the agent

in the destruction of the cattle (ov vrore <yap ^pevoOev 7' e7r'
apccrTepd . . . e/3a9, 1 83), /cTetVoi^r' agreeing with %€t/x.ft)i'', instead
of ere, or in a general way with both. The participle is equiva-
lent to (ocTTe Kjeipetv, just as ttltvcov in 185 is used for ware
TTLTveiv. Thus the text remains almost intact. And the use of
iTToixavrj is certainly after the manner of Sophocles, who so
often, to the confusion of scholiasts and editors, employs un-
usual words. The top cTroixavi) 'x^ecfioiva is a repetition of TrXrjjr)
Ato? in thought, while ein^r] is represented by eiri^avra. The
conjunction cb? shows that ae . . . okeaat is a direct explanation
of the clause in verse 138, the meaning of this general statement
being unfolded in the specific instance.

SOME NOTES ON THE AJAX

Verse 7
iK(J3epei. The verb here means ^tn'des to the goal, and refers
to the tracks of blood which Odysseus follows like a keen-
scented Spartan hound. So Theseus in Shakspere's Midsum-
mer Nighfs Dream : " My hounds are bred out of the Spartan
kind. ... A cry more tuneable | Was never holla'd to . . .
In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly." Cp. Plato, Parmen.
128 C wairep 76 al AaKatvat a/cv\aK€<i ev /xeraOet'i re Kal l')(yevet,<; .
But iK(f)€peLv in Phaedo 66 B (which is regularly cited as a par-
allel to the Sophoclean passage) has no such connotation. See
my article in Class. Rev. XXIII. 7, and add to the examples
cited there the following: Lucian 2.107 aTroTpairofievoc t?)? 68ov,
3.9 6S€va€La<{ . , .el Be Kav fiiKpov tc irapa^air]^ rj e^o) iraT^aeia^
. . . eKireaelaOaC ae Tr]<i opdi)'? oBov, 3,28 eKcrrrjaopiaL tt}? oBqv,
1.278 el ^pa'xy Tt? e/c^air} rrj'i oBov . . . rovrov i^i^vejKav . . .
e^erpdirovTO tt)? oBov, Philostratus 8.13 T779 oBov . . . awdyeiv,
Ap. Tyan. 10 ev eKl3o\rj tt)? oBov . . . eKrpeTrecrOai iroi irapa to
€v6v, Plutarch, De Genio Soc. eKvevaa'? Tfj<i oBov, Cato i^eireae rrj^
6B0V Kal 7rXavQ)fi€Vo<i . . . eo)? ifi^aXovre'; et? arpairov, Crassiis
28 eKirea-Qvcyq'; Trj<i oBov, Aemil. Paul. 16 a7roBpa<; i/c Trj<; oBov,

Erot. Gr. Manass. 4.43 TrapaTrXd^ei r^? oBov, Athenaeus 582 C ;
Arrian 4.5.3; lamblichus Protrept. 245 Ta'i X€co(l)6pov<; 68ov<;
eKKkivcov Blol roiv arpairSiv ^dBi^e, Manetho 4-531 /itav et? arpa-
irov ^LOTOv Bpofiov iKvevovre^ . . . ^cotjv evrpeinov €-x^ovTe<i, Xen.
He//. 2.2.19 iK/3\r}0evTcoif e/c t^9 68ov, Aelian, De Nat. An. 1.31
T^y avTtjv y^^copovcTLV cnpairov . . . a(f)iarapTai rrj^ oSov, Josephus
13.290 dfMzprdvovTa Kal tj}9 oBov t^? BiKaia^ iKrpeTrofievoif ek
avTrjV iiravayayeiv.

Verse 15

dTroTTTOf;. So the ghosts of Banquo and of the king are vis-
ible to Macbeth and to Hamlet, invisible to the others.

Verse 59

fiavLaaiv v6aoL<;. " The disease in Greek is called fiavta, in
Latin insania, furor'' (Ben Jonson, The Si/ent Woman 4.2).
The phrase means 'in his frenzied throes' — "not sick, my
lord, unless it be in mind" {JMerchant of Venice 3.2). The
adjective indicates the nature of the disease. In 338 the poet
uses voarjixa, which is not so common as v6a-o<i, but hardly to be
distinguished from it ; but the latter is the usual word for the
metaphorical signification.

Verse 186

^icot dv. The optative of r]K(o with dv occurs in only one
passage in later Greek, and there are only three examples in
classical Greek. In Plotinus 6.3.22 we read otl tjkol dv eh elBo^
TL . . . OTL T]Koi dv ek ivepjeiav. In Eur. Bacch. 1380 also we
find dv T]K.oL'i used in the future sphere. These examples show
that the perfect force of the verb vanishes, or can vanish, when
used in the optative. Some scholars maintain that such is the
case also in Soph. Ai. 186. But ^/cw here retains its perfect
force and expresses merely the subjective conviction of the
mariners. The act itself is in the past, whereas the verification
of that act is in the future. In other words, we have here an

equivalent to the periphrastic perfect of the optative with av,
the favorite Greek method of expressing a thought of this kind.
See my article in the Class. Rev. XIX. 150. Add EL 797.

Verse 192

ofxfx €X(ov. To the examples I have cited in C/ass. Rev.
XXIII. 40 add Dio Cassius, 63. 28 Trpd? re tou? iv Ta> irpocrdev
TOP vovv ixdvTcov, Porphyry, De Abstin. 3. 10 tt/jo? toOto rov vovv
e')(cov. Ajax is represented as fjiovoi; irapa crKrjvala-Lv, as later his
son (984). The hero has resolutely turned his face away
from the field of battle. Like Achilles, like Hoder in Matthew
Arnold's "Balder Dead," —

Down to the margin of the roaring sea
He came and sadly went along the sand.

Verse 206

OoXepa ')(^eipi5>vi. With poetic brevity this phrase refers to
the madness of Ajax, to his darkened soul. Cp. Shakspere,
Tempest 5.1 : —

Their understanding
Begins to swell, and the approp.ching tide
Will shortly fill the reasonable shores.
That now lie foul and muddy.

So lo (Aesch. Prom. 885 f . ) : OoXepol he Xoyot Trratova-' elK-Q
a-Tvyvij'i 7r/309 KVfiaaiv drr)^. The best illustration of the mean-
ing of these two passages is found in Dio Cassius 38.18 orav he
Bt] TrddrjfMa tc ttjv ylrvx^rjv KaToKd^rj, Odkovrai, koI aKorovrai kuX
ovSev SvvaTai Kaipiov ivvoijcrac . . . rrjv d^^Xvv fxov ravTrjv cnro
TT79 '\lrv')(rj<; cKJ^eXelv Kal €<> to dp'^^aXov jxe (/>&»? eTravayayelv. The
mind, being clouded, cannot think; all the reasoning powers
are paralyzed. This state may be brought about by frenzy, by
wine, and by many other causes. Cp. Philostratus, Ap. Tyan. 37
€i V afi(f)l irpoiTOv vTTVov 7j fx€cra<i vvktu^, ore ^e^vOiarai re Kal

^vvreOoXcoTai, en inrb tov oXvov, Tntag. 92 e? avrbv yap eacptctaaro
(sc. 'Eptfy?) TOV 'HpaKXea, kuI Slo, tov aTepvov •^opevei p,ea(p avTO)
eaco aKtproiaa koI tov Xoytcrfiov doXouaa, Erot. Graec. Theodorus,
Rhod. and Dos. 3.12 cltc cr/coTtaOeU to cf>povovv koI to Kpivov . . .
Kol (TwOoXovcTT]'; TOV Xoytafiov ra? Kopa'i. When the pupils of
the eyes of reason are beclouded, naturally the light cannot
penetrate the mind ; and doXepov is the opposite of hia^ave;.
Cp. Plotinus 6. 4. 1 1 olov TO) cjxjotI to 8Lacf)av€<i • toj Se TedoXcofxevM
ri iiieTdXr]yfn<i, Theodorus, RJiod. and Dos. 2. 322 77 70/3 TreptTTrj
trvppor) Tcov (j)povTi8cov aKOTOv KUTappatvovaa . . . Kal vvKTa
TToXXrjV Kal jBaOvaKLOv ^6(f)0v Kol . . . avvOoXovaa, 3.22 a^Xve'i
Trax^vecfieXoi doXovai Kal crKOTOvcri, Plutarch, PyrrJms 2 doXepbv
6fil3po)v eTTfyivofxevcov, Timoleoii 2/ BoXepoSr]<; fir/Se OoXepo^; . . . firjSe TeTapayfie'vo^,
Anthol. Gr. 3.1.277 OoXepal'i ve(^€Xat<;, Theophrastus, iv'. 3.3.24
OjXLyXoihr] Kal doXepoihrj, 3.6.48 Tra'x^v^ Kal doXepoiTaTO'i aijp,
Eustath. 1. 3. 1 TOV aepa doXovai, Aristotle, Zoica 338 ^ a'q'rria
TOV 60X0V cKpirjai, Josephus, Antiq. lud. 3. 10 d^pr]<TTOV . . . iiirb
TOV OoXepbv elvai, Porphyry, De Abstin. 1.42 vhwp . . . idv tl
hi^rjTai pvirapov, €vd€u><; jxiaLveTai Kal doXovTat, Georg. Pisid. 762
TTVev jJiaTaar] Kal aKOTtocrrj ttjv Oeav . . . fJLrjB' av Tapa^rj Kal
doXooarj ra? K6pa<i.

Verse 285

uKpa'^ vvkt6<; usually refers to one end of night or the other,
but here signifies " upon the heavy middle of the night " {Meas-
ure for Measure 4.1), an "unseasonable instant of the night"
{Mnch Ado about Nothing 2.2).

Verse 586

The poet
As old in time as Plato, and as knowing,
Says, that your highest female grace is silence.

— Ben Jonson, Volpone 3.2.

Verse 649

Nothing is sure of fulfilment ; the firm will and purpose are
broken, and the oath (by which we hope to strengthen them) as
well.

Women are soft, mild, pitiful, and flexible ;
Thou stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless.

— Shakspere, 3 Henry VI. 1.4.

Verses 671 ff.

If Winter bellow from the north.
Soon the sweet Spring comes dancing forth,
And Nature laughs again,

— Horace, Od. 2.10 (Cowper).

Nature ! great parent ! whose unceasing hand
Rolls round the Seasons of the changeful year.

— Thomson, Whiter, 106-107.

tout n'est que changement.
L'Hiver ne glace point tous les mois de I'annee.

— A. Chenier, Elegie 26.

6 Se yOhi et? tov arjixepov redvrjKev, 0 Se j-t] fxepov et? rov avpiov *
fteW 8e ovSk eh.

— Eusebius, Praep. Evang. 1 1. 1 1.7.

the dayes and nights to serve our turne
Content them selves to yield each other place.

— Old English Play, locasta.

Nothing doth still the same ; the stars do wander.
And have their divers influence, the elements
Shuffle into innumerable changes . . . herbs and trees
Admit their frost and summer ; and why then
Should our desires ... be such stayed things within us .-'

— Shirley, T/ie Traitor 2.2.
35

Verse 869

No less than a dozen emendations have been proposed. I
think we have the words substantially as Sophocles wrote them.
One division of the chorus has just entered, after a fruitless
search for the body of Ajax, and here, as in another drama of
Sophocles {Fr. 1 54), they could aptly say : —

Tt9 f^dp fie fio^Oo^ ovK iTrearciTei ;

and then continue with the words in our text : —

TTOvo^ 7r6va> irovov ^epei '

IT a <yap ovk ej3av eyco ;

KOuSeU iTnararel fie avfi/iaOelv to'tto?. .

" Jeden Ort habe ich besucht, und kein Ort tritt mir vor Auge,
der mir Mitwissen gonnte." The totto^} referred to (cp. 657) is
the one which holds the body. This locus knows. If the mari-
ners can find it, they will share in that knowledge (cp. 914).
The words iTna-rarel fie could easily have been mistaken for
eTTUTTarai fie. Cp. Lucian, Peregrinus 40 ineaTifv tivI 7ro\ia>
avBpt.

OEDIPUS TYRANNUS

EMENDATIONS AND EXPLANATIONS (198-199)

Te\et yap, et n vv^ o^9^,
TOVT eV Tjixap ep'X^erai.

The verb a(f)T} does not signify omit, but emt'f. The elders
pray that the destructive Ares be driven to the uttermost parts
of the earth. Not a day passes but he showers his missiles on
the helpless Thebans — and they keep coming all day long : —

^eXr] yap ei riv i^a(f)y,
rauT eir rjfxap ep')(eTaL.

It is these KrfKa Oeoio that the poet has in mind. When the
angry Apollo discharged his arrows at the offending Achaeans,
there was no cessation for nine days : ewrjiiap w^ero KtjXa deoio.
As long as the Destroyer remains in their country, the defence-
less Thebans cannot get inreic ^eXcov (A 465).

The form i^acf)i,evaL is not extremely rare. To the examples
cited in my article on this passage (C. R. XXV.) add Josephus,
De Bello lud. 2.613 k^a^r\Kev, 4.372 i^rjcjiieTO.

(219-221)
The words dyob i^epo) point backward to rd/i cttt/ and for-
ward to 7rpo(f)(ov(o rdBe (consequently also to 224-275), and toO
\6yov TovS" refers to the report of the murder of the king (106-
107), as related by Creon (compare the immediate interrogation
by Oedipus ttov . . . lx^o<; with Xxvevov in 220), while rov irpa-
xOevTO'i means the murder itself. Since he is a stranger both to
the story and to the deed, he must get all the facts of the case

and solicit the aid of the Thebans ; for he could not make much
progress in the investigation, unless he found some clue to fol-
low up. If the Thebans refuse to help their king in this
extremity, he would be obliged to proceed alone {avTo^;), and
with the prospect of almost certain failure. If, on the other
hand, the Cadmeians (who were in the city when 6 Xoyo? oSe
was first heard, that is, soon after the murder was committed),
this i')(^vo'i SvareKfiaprov TraXaim alria^ evpeOija-erai., and Oedipus
will be able to make some headway in overtaking the criminal
and will eventually find out av8po<i e'/c riVo? BicoXero. This clue
the Thebans themselves must supply before even a start can be
made.

(227-235)
The whole difficulty vanishes as soon as we restore iireyKa-
X(ov, which has been dislodged by vire^eXoav. I have discussed
the passage in extenso in the Classical Review (September,
191 1). To the examples cited there, and in a subsequent issue
(November), I have only one to add: Procopius, Anecdota 152
Kaiirep ovhev avTa> iireyKaXelv e'^^cov. These constitute, I believe,
the sum total of examples of this compound in Greek literature.
In Dio Cassius we find a passage which shows how easy it was
to shift from one form to the other: cS ovBh iTreKaXeaw; (46.14)
. . . e7/ca\et auT&> (46.15).

(328-329)

The text gives us what the sense and the dramatic situation
require : ov /xtj irore . . . iK<f>^veo KUKci. These KUKci are rcifi
ca-av-etTrco-firj-Ta a — almost a compound adjective made for
the nonce. The seer means that the evils are expressly called
raixd "that so I may not name them ra ad." Both the use of
the more cautious o)? dv and the position of fi-^ are significant —
ov fit] TTore rdfM (eTrt/ieXci)? ovrco prjde'vra Kal fir) ra a) eK^rjVO),
Even the emphatic ad could not have appeared as cr' if ra/tt*
had not preceded the interwoven clause.

(1089- I 094)

The text is indefensible. But one tiny stroke of the pen,
joined to a still tinier stroke, will bring order out of confusion
and give us a perfectly clear stream of thought.

The adjective cnreipcov, the commentators say, means 'igno-
rant,' in spite of the fact that the word does not occur in this
sense anywhere in the extant literature. If, however, we write
aireip'ywv, all the difficulties vanish ; and Jebb's change of Olhi-
TTov to the accusative is rendered absolutely unnecessary, rav
avptov iravaeX-qvov becoming the subject of av^etv (cp. 438 rjh*
Tjiiepa (jivaei ere). The emphatic position of aTreipycov is natural
after the asseveration ; and the insertion of the vocative between
the participle and ouk eaet (to mark the excitement) is also nat-
ural.

Periphrases similar to this are frequent in the play : 90 and
1 146 aLco7n]aa<; eaei, 991, 274, 126. Cp. At. 1320, Eur. Hec.
1 179, Xen. An. y.6.^6 KaraKavovre'i ea-eaOe. If the periphrasis
had not been used, the sentence would have read : ovk aireip^ei^
rav avpiov TravaeXrjvov fir) ov are 76 Kal iraTpLOirav OIBlttov kuI
rpo(f)bv Kal /xaTep' av^eiv. Cp. Hdt. 8 98 r] vv^ epjei, /ir) ov
Karavvaai, Soph. Ai. 70 uTreip^co . . . elcriSeiv.

(1526)

The reading of L is oo-ri? ov ^i]'Kcp ttoXitSv koI TV'y^ai^ eirc-
fiXiircov. The first word ov, by two strong converging influences
(09 above and rk adjoining), was changed to 0?, with the result
that the compound ocrri?, which conformed also to the cast of
the sentence in the preceding verse (09 . . . rjv), was formed
from the relative and the juxtaposed interrogative {ov ri^).
When this 6aTi<i came into being, the succeeding words could
not stand, and the verb underwent a transformation (^tjXol —
^rjXo)), to correspond to the dative Ty%ai9 ; and, subsequently, to
join the two datives a kui was manufactured out of the article
Tat9 by dropping the iinal 9.

Scholars have invariably tried to restore a verb which would
correspond to -pSei . . . r}v. But the present is the tense re-
quired, for ^r]\ol is thrown into the past by the modifying Tu;i^ai?
iwi^XeTTcov, which the poet appends with the express purpose of
informing us that it is o Traai /cXetw? OlSiirovi KaXov/xevof; to
whom he would draw our attention — " regarding (solely) the
series of good fortunes of Oedipus, who of the citizens does not
envy him?" Cp. Dinarchus 1.72 ff. Sophocles is really con-
trasting the two states of Oedipus (i)

that once trod the ways of glory
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour,

and (2) now so little of his great self, fallen indeed, never to
hope again, all his glories and triumphs shrunk to this little
measure, Oedipus, like Creon, ^v ^i]\cor6^, but now — ship-
wrecked upon a kingdom.

Sophocles means, then : rore fiev ttuctl TroXtrat^ t^rfXcoro^, vvv
he a^T]\Q)To<;. The participle iinjBXeTrwv signifies ' turning the
eyes to and gazing upon.' Cp. Eur. Hipp. 246 eV alaxvvrjv
6fxfj.a rerpaTTTai, lamblichus 1 6 ovk op6co<i Se rer/ja/i/xeW ovhe
^XeTTOvTL ol eSet, Plato, Rep. 5 19 A /SXeTret to ^jrv^dpLov . . . e0*
a TerpaTTTat, Nonnus 31, 159 Tpeyjrov ifiol reov ofifxa.

PHILOCTETES

EMENDATIONS AND EXPLANATIONS

Verses 22-23

The text is sound, with the exception of a solitary r (in 23),
which has dropped out.

CHffs tower above the heads of the two men. Odysseus
knows that he is in the right locality ; his task is to discover
the exact spot. He cannot go himself. So he sends his young
companion in advance. The latter is now above Odysseus.
Still higher up is a spring, if it gushes forth now where it did
ten years ago. A little higher, and to the right, is the cave of
Philoctetes. These Neoptolemus is to approach and indicate to
his companion below by means of a quiet signal : —

a fiOL irpoaeXOwv al'ya arjixaiv — etVe ')(U
j^w/3oy 7r/)o? avTov rovS" ex etr aWrj Kvpel.

It is the cave they are searching for, not the man. Odysseus
has no fear that the afflicted Greek has migrated to another
part of the island (41).

When etre %et became elr exei, the sense of the whole passage
was obscured. Hence the variations in our manuscripts.

Verse 42
The noun kwXov is not the accusative of specification ; •jraKaia
does not quahfy KrjpC; K-qpi does not go with voaoov ; and Trpocr^aiT)
does not signify either 'go forward ' or 'come toward.'

Philoctetes was bitten in the foot, not in the leg {kcoXov).
Cp. 7, 91, 291, 632, 748, 1 188, 1201. The most illuminating
passage for the meaning of Koikov is Plato, Thn. 44 E. Cp. Leg.

789 E, Eur. Hec. i\6^, Phoen. 1192. Philoctetes, i^ocrdii/, can-
not stand the pressure on his voaw Karaard^ovra Bia^opo) TroBa,
cannot plant his foot firmly on the ground, and thus wa/k
jxaKpdv. As he himself declares, he goes Svarrjvov i^eXKcov iroha
(291); he cannot place his /cwX.oi' tt/jo? Trjvyrjv. This is the force
of the preposition in Trpoa^air}. Cp. Poll. 5. 23, Ar. Ecc/. 161,
Eq. 72, Theogn. 283, Eur. Or. 1470, and the Homeric \a^
rrrpo'i^d'i.

Some scribe mistook TraXatoi^ for TraXaioV, and, as 'old plague'
made better sense than ' old leg,' promptly changed to TraXaia
to agree with KT)pL Metaphors from the palaestra were just
as natural as metaphors from the sea, and the vivid picture of
K(t)\ov wrestling with Ktjpi is thoroughly Greek, thoroughly
Sophoclean. Cp. Hes. 0/>. 41 1 dv7]p uTTjat TraXaiei. But Kr)p
never means * disease ' (in spite of Liddell and Scott, who assign
such a meaning to the word in this passage). The regular con-
notation is ' death,' or that which may be conceived as * death,'
hence ' pernicies.' Of course, voao^ also may be conceived as
' pest,' and so, metaphorically, the two ideas may merge. But
the point to be emphasized here is that Krjp never signifies an
actual v6ao<i. Even in 1166, where the chorus are endeavoring
to persuade Philoctetes to go with them to Troy, Krjpa refers to
his affliction, to his cltti, and not directly to the eX/co?. As
<rKeXo<; is a species of kwXov, so Kijp is a species of 6dvaro<i.
The post-Homeric writers make scant use of the word. In later
Greek, the plural occurs occasionally, the singular very rarely.

Verse 79

I agree with Jebb in accepting Erfurdt's emendation iral, as
against Linwood, and Campbell, who defend the kuC of the MSS.
As Jebb remarks, "the caressing tone of Trat is dramatically
happy at this moment." We have another such example in
O. T. 1008 w wal, /caXw? el S^Xo? ovk elhai<i ti Spa?. What a
word for a slave to use to a king ! Cp. 1030 w tckvov. These

show that the messenger does not mean to say that he expects
a tip, when he asserts kuI /xrjv fidXiara rovr cKJ^LKOfiijv, ottco'^ | aov
nrpo'i B6/xov<s iX06vTO<i eu Trpd^atfii ri. The %a/3i9 he desires is
the presence of his former charge in Corinth.

The retention of KaC in Phil. 79 can hardly be justified on
any grounds.

Verse 425

Of all the men in the world it was Antilochus that the an-
cients recognized as the son to whom the epithet of " Philopator "
could most properly be applied ; he was the unapproachable
model : *AvtlXo')^o<; tov irarpo^i virepairoOavoiv ToaavTr]<; €rv')^€V
€VK\€ia<i ware p,6vo<; (f)i\o7rdT(op irapa TOi? "^Wtjctlv avajopevdijvai.
Hence I should change the insipid oairep rjv <^6vo^ to 6 (Trip^wv
yovo'i, which completes the sentence much more satisfactorily.
The corruption is due either (i) to the dropping out of the 7
(as in aireip'yQiv, O. T. 1089) — oxrirep wv subsequently becoming
aycrireprjv — or (2) to haplography : oaTepycov yovo^ lost the first
(or second) yov, and oa-rep jovo^i generated oairep -qv <y6vo^.

Verse 533

I believe Sophocles wrote irpoaKvcravT e<? rr]v eato. Neop-
tolemus is about to enter the hole in the rock, the homeless
habitation, for the first time, Philoctetes for the last time ; so
they greet the household gods : el/x' et'o-co Bo/xtov . . . ovk anixdcrco
I deov<i Trpoaeiirelv Trpcora tov<; Kara aTey a<i, as Heracles says
when he returns to his home in Thebes. The participle is used
here absolutely. The preposition, which is indispensable, lurks
in the ending of the dual of the aorist participle. Both L and
the scholiast read TrpoaKvaavre^. This preposition {irpoaKvcravr
€?) is merely reenforced and emphasized by ea(o and elaioUr^aLv).
It would have been impossible for the poet to append eb? /j,dd7}<i
KT€ to i(ofi€v, if he was thinking of representing Philoctetes as
merely bidding a solemn farewell to the grotto and leaving

Lemnos. They do obeisance before they enter the cave, not
afterwards. The final clause depends on coyfiev . . . e?.

Verse 782

The first and last feet are out of joint ; hence the text has been
tampered with, with the result that evxv has probably been
pushed forward to the sixth, whereas it stood originally in the
fifth foot. The magnet which attracted the original words in
the sixth foot was probably BeSoiKu imtj. If Sophocles wrote

5> Tral, SeBoLKa /mt) t€\7J<; eu')(riv /xev ov,

the last two words shifted their position, to bring ou nearer to
fi'^ and at the same time in juxtaposition with the verb. This
pushed TeX.^9 evxvv forward to the last meter ; and fiev ou reX^?
was then transformed into /ie ovreXr)<; (areX?;?), because /-teV, in
this position, had no justification, and with the elision of e, the
phrase became fiij ^t' areX'q';. The accusative eu^nv then be-
came evxn perforce. But any scribe, however stupid, would ob-
serve that the verse now lacked one foot. Hence doctoring
was absolutely necessary ; and the obvious thing to do, in order
to secure the extra foot, was to prefix aWd, which seems so
natural that Jebb considers it sound. When aXkd was added,
& iral (necessarily) shifted to its present position after Se8oiKa,
which gave the jumble of words in our manuscripts : —

aWa SeBoiK, a> iral, jx-q yH areXr]^ ^^XV-

For the meaning of the verse, as I have restored it, compare
Clytemnestra's exclamation {Ag: 973): a> Zev reXeie, ra? ifia<;
eup^a? reXet.

Verses ii 53-1 154

Porson saw that aveBrjv must go with epirere; but neither
Porson, nor any scholar after Porson, has seen what Sophocles
intended to say. The phrase oSe x^P°'^ should be 68e %&)pt9,
this adverb having become x<w/309 through the influence (chiefly)

of the oSe x^P°^ j^^t above. With this alteration the whole
antistrophe becomes perfectly clear {oSe referring to Philoctetes
himself) and, in spite of the numerous emendations, we see that
we have the text exactly as Sophocles wrote it. Proofs of this,
with a full discussion of the whole antistrophe, will be published
in the Classical Review.

Verses 1218-1221

I believe that oixov has changed places with nriXa^. This
shift in position may have been made deliberately by some Attic
redactor, who thought oiiov meant 'near' (schol. €77^9) — both
are used with the participle o-rei^^o)!/ — or inadvertently by some
copyist whose eye (or mind) wandered from vreXa? cneCx^v to
ofiov (Trd-)(pvTa. Certainly oyi-ov in the usual sense of ' together '
is desired in 12 19. Sophocles means, I take it, 'I should have
been long ago near my ship, if I had not descried Odysseus
together with Achilles' son coming hither.' Cp. Ar. Ran. 1506
M.vpy.riKC & ofiov Kol NLKO/j.dx<p, Av. 1332 rd re /xovcrix o/xov rd
T€ fiavTiKd, 3.nd the Homeric phrases <yalav ofjiov koI ttovtov {i6gi),
ofiov %et/3a? T€ TTo'Sa? re {/x 178). This adverb does not occur in
the elegiac and iambic poets, in Herodotus, or in the genuine
orations of any orator, except Demosthenes. The expression
7]Sr) . . . TreXa? aretx^^ ^^ V recalls the iyyv'i ttj'; 6vpa<; rjhrj
fiaBi^cov elfjLi of Dionysus (Ar. Ran. 36) — 'on this tramp of
mine I am now near the door.' The coryphaeus observes
Odysseus and Neoptolemus approaching together. The parti-
ciple areixovra does not indicate in what direction they are
moving (it had just been used of motion away from the speaker) ;
hence the addition of tt/^o? ?7/ua9 SeO/)' l6vT{e) — the dual, not the
singular — which makes TreXa? superfluous. Consequently o^xov
is required in 1219, useless (or inappropriate) in 1218; whereas
TreXa? is demanded in 12 18, unnecessary in 12 19. In fact, it is
just this traditional stage "Look, where he comes" {Othello
3. 4) that must have been present to the mind of the copyist

when he wrote TreXa? 'OSvacre'a . . . iXevaaofxev : the scribe had
TreXa? in his mind's eye already when he looked up from the
page on which he was writing and espied a TreXa? not only im-
mediately above ofiov (which was then dislodged), but also, as it
happened, immediately preceding another areixf^v. Cp. Eur.
Or. 8/7 ff. 'Opearav Kelvov ov^ 6pa<; TreXa? crreixovT . . . opoi . . .
TivXdhriv re Kal aov avyjovov cTTeiyovB' ojxov, Soph. O. C. 29
Tre'Xa? -yap dvOpa vwv opco.

These emendations and explanations in the Philoctetes will
be published in full elsewhere. I have given brief abstracts
here for the sake of completeness.

University of Cincinnati

Studies

An Old Portuguese Version
of the Rule of Benedict

Palaeograpliical edition from the Aicobaca MS

No. 300 (agora 231) in the Bibliotheca

Publica of Lisbon

JOHN M. BURNAM

University of Cincinnati

ISSUED BI-MONTHLY FROM THE
UNIVERSITY PRESS, CINCINNATI. O.

PREFACE

This MS consists of two parts, the former datable about
1160, in a rather heavy semi-gothic hand, has 139 ff. of parch-
ment on which is copied a Kalendarium (1-92), followed by a
Latin version of the Rule of Benedict (92-135), and by four ff.
originally left blank, but afterwards used to copy a table of con-
tents to part second; the latter part contains fi. XXXIV of
parchment with the Portuguese text herein published. The
measurements are mm. 320 by 218 for the material, and 240 by
150 for the writing. Part I has the usual alternation of red and
blue initials, with hyphens, but no running title: the quires for
both portions were calculated for eight ff. each. Nos. I-XI are
signed, XII has lost the seventh folio, XIII-XVII have eight, all
unsigned. The MS exhibits a series of rubrics and dates espe-
cially marginal in red color. It employs accents over i vowel or
consonant in the neighborhood of another i, of m, n, or u; like-
wise some word accents.

This codex is represented in the editor's Palaeographia Iberica
by plates III (Pt. I) and IV (Pt. II), with a summary descrip-
tion and bibliography. But it deserves a more detailed mention.

The MS is listed p. 132 of the Index Codicum Bibliothecae
Alcohatiae, Olisipone, 1775 (hereafter referred to as the Index
of 1775) and by Fr. Fortunato de S. Boaventura, Historia
Chronologica, e Critica da real Abbadia de Alcobaca, Lisboa
1827, pp. 67-68. The Index of 1775 on the strength of the
subscription* had assigned the Version to the year 1270, and had
taken on faith the interlinear statement in Latin that the trans-
lator's name was Fr. Martinho de Aljubarrota. Fr. F, observes
that the language of the version is of the XVth Century and that
this Fr. Martinho had signed Cod. 330 containing the Rule
in Latin and the Usos de Cister, June 27th, 1410.

Let the Romance scholars (for whom this palaeographical
edition is prepared) tell us how nearly accurate is Fr. F. in his
remarks about the language: as for the date, the present editor

* See p. 78.

has evidence to offer of another kind which seems either to have
escaped the notice of the learned monk or not have been prop-
erly appreciated.

1. That subscription, in Latin and in red letters, is by an
entirely different hand from that of the text above and from
that of the interlinear mention of Fr. Martinho. The subscrip-
tion is two or three decades later than the text, and the inter-
linear later still. These items have the appearance of forgeries
and possess little, if any, historical value.

2. Those originally unoccupied ff. at the end of Pt. I were
afterwards used to transcribe a summary of the Version by ff.
and chapters. The hand is that of the marginal note pi. Ill
of the editor's Pal. Iberica, see the photograph. That note
partially destroyed by the binder's knife says, "Obijt domnus
martinus quartus decimus abbas alcobatie;" now (Historia, etc.,
p. 178) this Abbot reigned from 1369 to his death, September
30, 1381. If we allow as much as four or five years for the
period between the "obiit" and the insertion of the note in the
margin of the Kalendarium, we must assign the summary to
about 1385. Of course, the Version can not be later than this
date, which agrees well enough with the style of writing used
in our text.

The writing of the Version is a handsome rounded Gothic,
carefully executed, provided with the usual Rubrics, alternate
red and blue initials, rubrics, quires of eight ff., etc. The scribe
makes a rather sparing use of abbreviations as becomes the
copyist of a liturgical text. He uses the bar over vowels or con-
sonants, or cutting the projecting shafts of consonants, with
the time-honored meaning. His nasal bar* surmounting a
pair of vowels, is in Portuguese fashion, rather between the two
than over either one. He has sometimes used it either by mis-
take or as he also employs the cut stroke, to act a sort of "signum
conjunctivum" to note a digraph. He has sometimes used it
superfluously. He makes use of the 9-shaped hook for the ending
-us, the -ur hook, the pro sign, some superposed vowels, the
curve attached to f and s to show the syllables fer or fir and ser.

Our MS uses the majuscule final R now and then, the initial
double consonant very rarely: among such instances we should
probably not count desseer, etc., as the scribe felt this conbina-
tion to be one single word.

* Contrary to Portuguese custom, we have everywhere transcribed the nasal bar, not
with the tilde, but with an italicised m or n.

The accents deserve more attention. Besides the i accent
already mentioned, the copyist so treats practically all his
double vowels, sometimes, it seems, to indicate a long vowel,
sometimes to point out the open character of such vowel, just
as is done in modern Portuguese. More interesting are the
cases where the accent shows the location of the voice stress.
This usage already occurring in the IXth Century in books to
be read aloud before a congregation or a gathering, does not
seem to be current in the Peninsula earlier than about A. D.
1000; there it occurs in Bibles, Liturgies, and Patristic books.
It combines with the accents over a pair of long vowels, especially
if the latter of these was stressed, e. g., in an early Bible, canaan.

The important cases in this text are: accented finals, most
often in verbs, e. g., sera; but also in nouns as morador, in con-
junctions as in pero (very frequent) ; penults, where the reader
might have looked for the stress on the antepenult, e. g., tempere
ordene; or on the antepenult, as in deprecor, cantico. Note
the frequency of -eo in the preterit of certain verbs; also forms
like alheo, candea, iudea. Why amados, abbade? Above all,
why fomento?

Another remarkable phenomenon in this MS is the oc-
currence three times of the caret in its modern form and with
its modern meaning, in all cases by the scribe who executed the
codex: the oldest outcropping of this symbol so far as known
to the editor.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Comegase oprologo da regia de sambeento abbade.

Como nos conuida asanta scriptMra que nos conuertamos 7nos

tornemos pera. deus I .

De qMaes obras deuemos de comegar. por hyr ao regno de dews,

Per que modo 7 maneyra podemos herdar amorada do reyno de

deus II.

Comegase a regla desam beento abbade.

De como hy ha qwatro geeracowes de mowges.

Qual deue seer abbade Ill .

Per modo 7 maneyra deue obbade ensinar seus monges IIII.

Que modo deue teer oabbade en castigar seM5 discipolos.

De quaes ha de dar conto 7 razom adeus oabbade 7 por que V.

De como deuen seer chamados os frayres aconselho.

Qwantos som osstr«mentos das boas obras VI .

Da obedientia VII.

De silentio.

Da humildade VIII .

Do primero graao da humildade IX .

Do segundo graao da humildade.

Do terceyro graao X .

Do quinto 7 do sexto.

Do. UIJ°. Do. UIIJ°. Do. IX°. Do decimo.

Do. XI°. Do. XIJ° graao da humildade.

Aque tempo se ham deleuantar es monges aas horas de deus que

se ham de dizer denoyte XI .

Qwantos salmos se deuem adxzer nas horas danoyte.

Como se deuem adizer as vigilias no tempo de estio.

Per que maneyra se ham de dizer as vigilias no dia do domiwguo, . XII .

Per que guysa se ham de dizer os laudes no dia do domingo.

Como 7 em q«e maneyra seiam dictos os laudes nos dias
priuados.

Como 7 en qwe maneyra se ham de dizer as vigilias. nas festas

dos sanctos -. . . .XIIJ.

Em qwaes tenpos ham de dizer. Alleluya.

Como se ham de dizer as horas de dews de dia.

Qwantos salmos se ham de dizer per essas horas meesmas de

dia.
Do repartimento dos salmos em sete vigilias.

Como 7 em que maneyra deuew os mowges leer cantar 7 Rezar . . . XII I J .
De como deuemos orar com muyta reuerengia 7 humildade.
Des dayaaes 7 curadores 7 meestros da congregagom do

moesteyro.
Como deuem dormir os mowges

Como 7 quando se deue poer. aexcomunhom 7 por qwaes culpas . . XV.
Qual deue seer omodo 7 amaneyra da excomunhom.
Das graues culpas.
Daqwelles qtie se aiunctam aconuersar 7 falar cow os excow-

muwagdos.
Como 7 en que maneyra. oabbade deue seer soUcito 7 studioso

sobre os frades excomuwgados XVI .

Daqwdles que ameude forem castigados 2 non se qwerem en-
mewdar.

Se deuem seer Recebidos outra uez os frayres. que se sayrem.

ou fugiram do Moesteyro.

Dos mogos de meor hydade. como os deuem castigar.

Do cellareyro do Moesteyro de que cowdicom deuem seer XVII.

(Verso)

Das fferramentas 7 das outras cousas do Moesteyro.

Se deuem os mowges teer. ou auer alguwa cousa propria.

Se deuem os mowges receber todos ygualmewte as cousas neces-

sarias XVIII.

Dos domaayros da cozinha.

Dos emfirmos.

Dos uelhos. 7 dos mogos peqwenos XIX.

Do domaayro de leer aamesa.

Da qwawtidade 7 mesura de heuer dos mowges XX.

A que horas deuem comer os mowges.

De como nen huuw. non deue falar depoys de completa.

Daqwelles que aas horas de deMs. ou amesa leerem. 7 chegarem

tarde XXI .

Daqwdles que som excomuwgados. 7 apartados. como ham de
satisfazer 7 acabar sua peendenja.

Daquelles que fallecem 7 som enganados na igreia no que ham
de dizer.

Da quelles que em alguwza cousa pecem. 7 desfalecem hu quer. . .XXII.

Do tanger 7 iazer synal aa obra dedews.

Da obra das maaos de cada dia por todo oanno.

Em que ham de trabalhar. os mowges des as callendas de
octubro.

Da quaresma XXIII .

Da obseruaga 7 guarda da qwaresma.

Dos frades que andam em lauor longe do oratorio, ou som em
caminho enuiados.

Dos frayres que vaao. 7 som enuiados non muy longe do
Moesteyro.

Do oratorio 7 da igreia do moesteyro XXIV.

Como se ham de Receber. os hospedes.

Que now deue omonge Receber letras nen doowes. nen outras

ioyas XXV.

Das uestiduras dos frayres.

Da mesa do abbade.

Dos meesteyraaes do Moesteyro XXVI .

Como deuen Receber os frades nouicos XXVII .

Como deuem seer Recebidos os filhos dos Ricos. 7 dos
proues.

Dos sacerdotes que querem morar no moesteyro.

Dos mo«ges per egrijis como deuen seer recebidos no Moesteyro . . XXVIII .

Dos sacerdotes do moesteyro.

Das ordens. dos graaos da congregagoxn XXIX.

Como 7 de qMaaes pessoas. deue?K oabbade seer feeto 7

ordenado XXX .

Do preposito 7 prior detoda acongregagom do MoestejTO.

Dos porteyros daporta do Moesteyro. XXXI .

Dos frades enviados pera. andar caminho.

Dos frayres aque encomewdam alguwas cousas graues 7 que

elles nen podem fazer.
Que enn no Moesteyro nen huum non seia ousado defender

outro.

Por tal que non presuma nen sea ousado defender outro XXXII .

De como os mowges deuew seer obedientes huuws aos outros.

7 premiro ao abbade 7 aos prepostos.
Do zeo boow que deuem auer os monges.
De como no he posto nem estabelecido em esta (r)egra.

ogwardamewto de toda iustiga 7 uirtude de perieygom. . . .XXXIII.

An Old Portuguese Version of the
Rule of Benedict

PROLOGO. (Caption begins with two majuscules blue and
red).

(a) (Red) CO megase oprologo da Regla de San
beento abbade: F (black) ilho ascuyta os preceptos 2
mandamewtos do meestre. 2 jnclina 2 abaixa a orelha
do teu coragom 2 recibe deboamgwte 2 toma oamoesta-
mento 2 cowselho do padre piadoso. 2 afficadamewte o
comple 2 ponhe en obra. por que te tornes por trabalho
de obediencia. aaquel do qua! te partiste. 2. arredaste.
por priguiga. 2. peccado de desobedencia. (b) Poys
por este. aty hora eu digo o meu sermon 2 as minhas
palauras .quemquer tu es que queres renunciar 2 fugir
aos propios deleytos 2 plazeres dacarne 2 deste mundo
2 tomas armas de obediencia muy fortes 2 muy claras 2
nobres. per seruir a jhe^u christo .senhor 2 uerdadeyro
Rey. (c) E primeyramewte en comego do teu tornamewto.
demanda 2 roga ael en tua oracom muyto afficadamewte
que queyra complir 2 acabar. quaiqwer cousa deben
que comegas afazer. que poys que el ja teue por ben 2
Ihe prougue de nos poer 2. receber en no con to dos sens
filhos. now se haja decow (ras. 1 litt.) tristar 2.anojaren
alguum tempo, dos nossos maaos feytos 2 obras. (d) E
assy certame7zte Ihe deuemos seer obedientes en todo
tempo 2 en toda hora por los beews 2. mercees que del
Recebemos. que now tarn, solamgwte. assy como padre
irado. now delexerde os filhos en alguum tempo, mas ajnda
que nen. assy como senhor temeroso 2 mouido a sanha
por los nossos peccados. de apena. 2 alcance entor-
mento pera sempre. os muymaaos seruos que o now
quiseran seguir pera ir aa sua gloria.

CAP. I. (Red) Como nos cowuida a sancta. scriptura que nos
conuertamos 7 tornemos pera. deus 2 diz:

(a) (Blue) P (Black) oys leuantemonos irmaaos se
quer en alguuw tempo do sono do peecado. ca a escrip-

'^^^' ^ tura uos esperta. 7 braada anos dizendo. Hora he ja
denos leuantarmos do sono. quer dizer do peccado.
(b) E depoys que abrirmos os olhos do nosso
(I Vo)

coragon. ao lume do conhecimgwto de deus. com as
orelhas do nosso entendimewto attentos. ougamos aquelo
que nos amoesta encadahuuw dia auoz de deus 2 diz
Hoje se ovuirdes auoz do senhor non queyrades en-
durentar os uossos coragoowes. (e) E diz ajnda mays.
Aquel que teu orelha de entendimewto pera ovuir. ouga
2 entenda ben. aqz^elo que o spiritu de deus diz aas
egrejas. (d) E que diz. Uijnde uos filhos 2 ovuide me
2 ensinar uos hey que cousa he o temor de deus (Red.) A
(Black) Correde 2. trabalhade enquanto hauedes lume
de uida. new pdla uentura as teeebras da morte uos
encalcem 7 aReuatem. (e) E qz^erendo 2 buscando
onosso senhor deus na multidoowe doseu poboo. o seu
obreyro. aoqwel estas cousas braada .diz mays. Qual
he ohomew que quer vida pgrdurauil 7 cobijga 2 quer
ueer boos dias. (f) A qual cousa se atu ovuires 2
responderes 2 disseres. Eu. Diz te logo deus. Se tu
queres hauer uerdadeira uida 2 pera. sempre .quita 2
guarda atua lingua dotodo maao falar. 2 atua boca now
fale engano. Parte te de mal 2 faze ben. busca 2 demanda
apaz 2 sigui a. (g) Eqzmndo uos esto fezerdes .Os
olhos da minha misercordia esguardaram. sobre uos 2
as minhas orelhas seram aprestes pera ovuir as uossas
prezes 2 rogos 2. petigoones. (Red) E (Black) antes
que me chamedes. direy. (h) Eys me prestes soow.
pera. compnr uossas petigoowes 2 desejos. Jrmaawos
muyto amados. 2 qual cousa pode seer melhor. 2 mays
dolge anos. que esta uoz do senhor. que nos conuida. 2
chama. en cada huuw dia. (i) Eys o nosso senhor deus
por la sua piedade. nos demostra o caminho 2 a carreyra
da uida perdurauil.

CAP. II. (Red) De quaaes obras deuemos decomegar pera. ir
ao regno de deus. (a) P(Black) rimeyramewte. os
nossos lombos 2. forgas dos nossos corpos 2 das nossas
almas ja cingidos 2 cercados 2. apparelhados con fe 2
cow obseruancia .2 guarda de boas obras. andemos jrma-
awos .OS caminhos de deus perlo guiamewto do euang-

elho. pera. seermos dignos 2 merecedores. deueer aquel
senhor. que nos chamou.
(II Ro)

en no seu regno, (b) Enno qual regno se nosq?<eremos2
desejamo5 uiuer 2 morar. non podemos ael ir. portra-
balho de boas obras. E porem .se queremos saber como
podemos ir morar ao seu reyno. prgguntemos onosso
senhor deiis. con opropheta. .dizendo ael. (c) Senhor.
quew uiuira 2 morara no teu tabernaculo 2 morada do
Reyno dos ceeos. ou quem folgara no teu sancto 2 alto
monte? Depoys desta prggunta. irmaa^ws ougamos
onosso senhor deus que nos responde 2 demostra oca-
minho 2 accarreira. da sua morada. 2 diz. (d) Aquel
que entra 2 uiue sen magoa 2 gugidade de peccado. 2
faz obras de iustiga 2 deben. (e) i\quel que fala 2 diz
uerdade no seu coragow como afala 2 diz porla sua
boca. (f) Aquel que non fez engano con a sua lingua,
(g) Aquelque non fez nem disse mal a nehuuw homem.
(h) Aquel que non recebeo nem Ihe prougue o mal
2 odoesto do seu proximo, new o quis ouvir deboa
mente. (i) Aquel que esqwiou 2 empouxou de ante
apresenga do seu coragow o diaboo malicioso. que
omouia. 2 cowselhaua falsamewte o mal fazer. 2 uenceo 2
trouve anehuma cousa el 2 todo seu. maao mouimewto
2 cowselho. 2 tomou 2 reteue os comedos das cuydagoowes
peq/^enas 2 das tentagoowes 2 maaos encitamewtos 2
mouimewtos del que non crecessem 2 qwgbrantou-os en
jhesu christo cowfessando os 2 demostrandoos ael 2
chamando a sua graga 2 ajuda. (k) E aqueles que temen
deus 2 por-Io ben 2 aboa uida que fazem now emsoberue-
cem nem se exalgam. mas cuydam 2 pensam que esse
ben que en eles ha, non pode vijwr nem proceder. delles.
mas qtie procede. 2 uen do senhor deus. 2 magnificam
2 louuam o senhor que en elles obra. (1) Dizewdo cow
o propheta. aqz^do que he scripto: Non a nos senhor.
now anos .mas ao teu santo nome da agloria 2 olouuor.
(m) Assi como oapostolo san paulo. que da sua preegagom
nunca assi meesmo apos nem contou nehuma cousa.
mas dizia. Aqz^ello que eu som feyto. porla graga de
deus o soon, (n) E el diz mays, (o) Aquel que se
gloria. 2 alegra. ennosenhor d^MS. se glorie 2 alegre.

CAP. II ^p-^ £ deste tal fala nosso senhor ihe^u chru/o no euangelho
hu diz. (g) Aquel que ouue.
(II Vo)

as minhas palauras 2 as faz 2 po7zhem en obra. eu o
farey semelhauil ao homem sabedor. que edificou. 2
fundou a sua casa sobre a pedra. V(i, supra) eerom os
Rios. sopraron os uentos. 2 empegaron 2 derom en aqz^dla
casa 2 now cayo por que era fundada sobre pedra. (r)
Aquestas cousas compliindo 2 acabando onosso senhor.
(ras. 2 litt.) ihesu christo. aguarda 2 spera nos cada dia
que hajamos de Responder aestes seus santos amoes-
tamewtos cow boas obras 2 co booms feytos. (s) E por
tanto. por. emmenda 2 corregim^wto dos nossos males
2 peccados. nos som dados 2 perlongados por treguas.
OS dias desta uida presents, (f) 'Como diz o apostolo.
Per uentura no7i sabes tu. qtie apaciencia de deus. te
spera 2 trage apenitewcia? Ca onosso senhor deus muy
piadoso. diz porlo prophetd.. (u) Non quero amorte
do peccador. mas quero que se conuerta 2 torne a peni-
tewcia 2 uiua.

CAP. III. (Red) Per que modo 2 maneyra podemos herdar
amorada do reyno de deus (a) (Blue) I (Black) Rmaaos.
depoys qtie nos fezemos pregunta ao nosso senhor deus. do
morador. da sua casa. ovuimos o precepto 2 encomew-
damento que deue iazer 2 compnr aquel que en ela quiser
viuer 2 morar. (b) Poys se nos quisermos fazer 2
compnr o officio 2 obras de morador desta casa. seremos
herdeyros do regno dos ceeos. (c) E pera. esto deuemos
de aparelhar os nossos coragoowes 2 os nossos corpos
aa santa obediencia dos mandamewtos de de«s perao
seruir. 2 batalhar 2 pugnar contra os peccados. E Rogue-
mos ao senhor qtie nos de 2 ministre aajuda da sua graga.
pera iazer aqz^ello que anossa natwreleza en nos de sy
non pode obrar. (d) E se queremos vijwr aa vida
perdurauil fugindo aas penas 2 tormewtos do fogo do
jnferno. enq«anto ajnda agora hauemos tempo. 2 en
estes corpos mortaaes somos. 2 per aquesta carreyra de
luz 2 de uida hauemos tempo pera esto fazer 2 compnr.
por tanto deuemos agora de trabalhar 2 fazer aqz^dlo que
nos seja boom 2 proueytoso pera sempre. (e) Poys pera
esto. qweremos stablecer 2 ordenar huma scola de seruigo

CAP. Ill (IIIRo)

de deus. no qz^al stabelecim^wto 2 ordenamewto. now
entendemos apoer nem ordenar cousa nehuwa aspera
nem graue. (f) Pero se alguum pouqz^etinho. ditando
2 mostrando nos o juyzo da boa Razow se seguir 2
posermos alguma cousa mays streytamewte qtie ente-
demos. por corregimewto 2 emmenda dos uigos 2 pecca-
dos. 2 por guarda da caridade. now tomes logo spanto
nem pauor. nem fugas nem leixes o caminho 2 acarreyra
da sahude. aqual nem se deue nem pode comegar. se
now .por comedo 2 entramewto streyto 2 apartado. (g)
Mas por processo 2 acrecentamgwto de uirtudes de boa
uida 2 de fe. depoys andaremos porlo caminho dos
mandamewtos de dez^s cow coragow largo 2 spacioso 2
folgado. cow muyta dulcidon do amor de deus. sen conto
2 sen fin. (h) Assy, que nunca nos partindo do seu
seruigo. 2 en na sua doutrina. ataa morte perseuerando.
por paciencia padecendo 2 soffrendo. participemos 2
hajamos parte ennas pa}'xoowes 2 padecimewtos de
ihg^u christo. (i) Por tal que sejamos merecedores de
seer cow el. parceyros 2 quynhoeyros do seu regno.
(Incorrect Rubric erased).
(Red)

CAP. IV. De como hy ha qwatro geeragoowes de monges

(a) (Blue) C (Black) Ousa certa 2 manifesta he.que
quatro som as geeragoowes dos monges. (b) A primeyra
geeragon he. dos cenobitaawos .2 estes som aqz^gUes
que uiuem nos mosteyros so regla ou so abbade. (c)
A segunda geeragow:. he dos anacoritas. cowuem assaber.
dos he/'mitaawes. now daqwdles qtie nouamente cow
feruor 2 desejo de boa uida se conuertem 2 tornam a
dews, mas daqwelles que emprouagow perlongada de-
mosteyro 2 por longos tempos nos moosteiros ja ensinados
por exemplo 2 uida 2 ajudoyro demuytos. aprenderon
assaber pugnar 2 lidar contra odiaboo. (d) E elles
ben ensinados 2 doutrinados daaz 2 cowuersagow forte
da companhia dos Jrmaawos. pera. batalhar 2 lidar
apartada mewte no hermo contra as tentagooes .2 ja
seguros. sen cowsolagow 2 sen ajuda doutro nehuum.
cow sua maawo s66 2 cow seu brago por fortaleza do seu
boom uiuer. 2 con.

CAP. IV (IIIVo)

o ajudoyro de deus som abastantes 2 sofficientes pera.
no hermo pugnar. 2 lidar contra os. uicios 2 peccados da
carne 2 das cuydagoowes. (e) A terceyra geeragow dos
monges muy fea 2 spawtosa. he ados sarabaytaawos. os
qwaaes now som esprouados nem examinados. por
nehuwa Regla. nem por expmencia 2 doutnna de meestre.
assi como o ouro na fornalha. mas estes fracos 2 molles
assi como o chumbo. guardando 2 fazendo ajnda as obras
domundo. mentem adeus porla tonsura 2 coroa 2 hauito
que tragem. (f) Os quaaes dous 2 dous .ou tres 2 tres. ou
certamente cadahuuw en sua parte sen pastor 2 regedor.
now ennos mosteyros 2 casas de deus. mas en suas
cellas 2 logares. appartados. tomam 2 ham por ley iazer
2 comprir todas suas voowtades. 2 os seus desejos. 2
qualqwer cousa que elles cuydarem ou pensarem segundo
suas voowtades pera iazer. ou elegerem 2 escolerem. (g)
AqMesta dizem que he boa 2 santa. (h) E aqwella cousa
que elles now quiserem iazer. dizem que now he boa new
. Ihes perteece. (i) Aqwarta geeragow he dos moUges
que chamam girouagos. os quaaes toda sua uida de-
spendem andando por desvayradas prouincias 2 terras.
2 per tres tres ou quatro quatro dias som hospedados
2 recebidos por desvayradas cellas. sempre uagos 2
nunca stauijs seruindo aos proprios deleytamewtos 2
cobijga 2 desejos da garganta. 2 estes taaes en todo 2
por todo .som peores .que os sarabaitas. (k) Da cow-
uersagoTW 2 uida muy mesquinha destes todos .melhor he
calar que falar. (1) E por tanto leixadas todas estas
g^eragoowes. uenhamos apoer 2 .ordenar cow aajuda de
deus a uida da muy forte 2 nobre geeragom dos monges
cenobitaawos qweuiuem nos mosteyros so Regla. 2 so
abbade,

CAP. V. (Red) Qual deue de seer o Abbade.

(a) A(Black) quel que he digno 2 merecedor de se4r
abbade 2 regidor de mosteiro sempre deue seer nem-
brado que he dito 2 chamado abbade. quer dizer padre
2 onome de mayor cowuen assaber dabbade 2 depadre.
deue cowplir porfeytos 2 por obras. 2 reger ben 2. sages-
mente 2 gouernar 2 ensinar.
(IV) Ro)

CAP. V

castigar. 2 reprehender os monges setis filhos con amor
de padre 2 con discrego«. por que creemos que el no
(sp. 4-5 litt.) mosteyro ten ologo 2 as uezes de ihesu.
christo que foy 2 he nosso meestre 2 nosso padre. poR
qwanto o chamam por esse meesmo nome. por que ihesu
christo he dito 2 chamado. segundo que diz oapostolo.
(b) Recebestes spiritu de adougow quer dizer de filhos
adoutiuos. no q^^al spiritu chamamos 2 dizemos abbade.
padre. Epor tanto oabbade non deue ensinar cousa
nehuwa new stabelecer. nem ordenar new mandar.
cowtra OS preceptos 2 mawdamgntos de deus .oque
deus non mande. mas o seu mandamewto 2 a sua
doutnna seja fomento da iustiga de deus 2 do seu
amor, spargido nos coragoowes 2 nas almas dos sens
discipulos. (c) O abbade semprg seja renewbrado. que
no muy spantoso 2 temeroso dia do juyzo de deus Ihe
ha desseer demandado 2 reqz^erido conto 2 Recado 2
Razow. tanben da sua doutrina. come da obediencia dos
seus discipulos. (d) E saba por certo oabbade. que
qualqwer cousa de menos proueyto 2 de mingua 2.
desfalecimewto que deiis padre estonce poder achar nas
suas ouelhas. todo encostara 2 demandara ao pastor,
(e) Pero entanto sera libre 2 sen culpa opastor se el fezer
2 poser toda diligencia 2 studo 2 for ben solicito 2 dis-
crete sobre a sua grey 2. cowpanha que for maa 2 deso-
bediente. 2 houu(er, add. s. XV) toda cura 2 cuydado.
dos seus autos maaos 2 enfermos 2. enfermidades cor-
poraaes. 2 Ihes der 2 ministrar todalas cousas necessarias
peraos corpos 2 pgraas almas. 2 estonce o seu pastor.
libre. 2 assoluto 2 quite de culpa, diga ao senhor no dia
do juyzo. con opropheta. Senhor now neguey new ascon-
dy a tua lustiga no meu coragow. mas a tua uerdade 2 a
tua sahude. Ihes disse 2 pronunciey 2 demostrey. mas elles
maaos. soberuos 2 desprezadores. desprezarow me 2 now
curarom da minha doutrina 2 ensinanga. (f) E estonce
finalmente a essas ouelhas mdas 2 desobedientes ael.
seja Ihes pena 2 tormewto muy grande 2 muy forte,
essa morte de perdigon 2 condemnagow. na qua\ cayron
porla desobediencia.

CAP. VI. (Red) Per que modo 2 maneyra deue o abbade ensinar
OS sens monges
(IV Vo.)

(a) Q (Black) uando alguuw recebe 2 toma encar-
rego 2 nome de abbade. por duas maneyras deue ensinar
OS sens discipulos. conuew assaber. deue Ihes demostrar.
2 ensinar todalas cousas boas 2 santas. mays porfeytos
2 porobras. qiie por palauras. assi que aos discipulos
capazes 2 mays entendidos proponha 2 diga Ihes por
palauras 2 preegue os mandame«tos de dews, mas
aaqweles que forem duros decoragom 2 mays simplices
2 que mays pouco entendimewto ham. por seus feytos
2 por suas obras. Ihes mostre os prcceptos 2 mandamentos
de deus. (b) E todas aqwdlas cousas que el ensinar aos
seus discipulos que som contrarias 2. empeeciuijs aas
suas almas .en seus feytos pnmeyramente. 2 en suas
obras. as demostre. que se. non deuedefazer.- new por
uentura el preegando aos outros seja achado 2. hauudo por
maao preegador. 2 por que nom diga deus en. alguuw
tempo ael maao 2 peccador. (c) Por que contas tu. 2
dizes as minhas iustigas. 2 tomas 2 preegas o meu testa-
mento porla. tua boca? Ca tu auorreceste 2 entejaste
aminha disciplina 2 ensinanga. 2. dey taste as minhas
palauras atras ty 2 now curaste dellas. (d) E tu que
uias o argueyro no olho de teu jrmaawo. 2 no teu non
uiste atraue. (e) O abbade now faga departimewto new
estremamewto antre huwa persoa. 2 outra no mosteiro;
(f) Nen seja huuw mays obediente: Non seja mays
auantejado new haja mayor logo new honra na ordem.
oliure 2 de boa geerago por lo sangue nobre dehu ven.
que o. seruo que se cowuerte 2 tira da seruidoowe 2 entra
na ordem primeyro que el. saluo se for por alguwa causa
que seja razoauil. (g) E esto meesmo se ao abbade
parecer cow. Razow. faga elaqwalqz^gr decada huwa
das ordeews tam ben dos sacerdotes. come dos deeuaw-
gelho 2 de epistola. (h) En outra maneyra nehuuw.
now seja promouido a mays alto graao. mas cada huuw
tenha seu logar. proprlo. por que. assi seruos como
liures. todos somos huwa cousa en ihesu christo. 2 so
huuw senhor.igual lugo 2 trabalho de seruidow sop-
portamos. ca ante deus non ha hy recebimewto new
departimewto de persoas.

c^P-^^ (VRo.)

(i) Tan soomente en esto somos departidos 2. estramados
ante el se formos achados melhores en boas obras 2.
mays humildosos que os outros. (k) E por tanto o
abbade haja caridade 2 amor atodos jgualmente. 2
huma disciplina. seja dada atodos segundo os sens
merecimewtos.

CAP. VII. (Red) Que modo deue teer o abbade en castigaR.

o sens discipulos.

(a) (Blue with inside red shading) O (Black) Abbade
na sua doutrina 2 ensinanga. sempre deue te6r 2 guardar
aqMglla forma 2 maneyra do apostolo. na quel diz. (b)
Reprehende. Roga. doesta. conuew assaber. mesturando
2. ajuntando tempos a tempos, affadgos a espantos.
Aas uezes oabbade mostre se aos discipulos meestre
crueuil 2 espantoso. 2 das uezes padre piadoso. conuem
assaber. os discipulos soberuosos 2 uagos 2 desobedientes
2 mal ensinados deue reprehender 2 castigar aspe/'a-
mente. 2 esposamewte. mas os obedientes 2 os humil-
dosos 2. mansos 2 os pacientes. deue rogarqwe aproueytew
de ben en melhor. (d) E mandamos 2 amoestamos
que o abbade doeste 2 castigue os negligentes 2 os
desprezadores. (e) Nem leixe hir new traspoer os
peccados dos seus discipulos sen correygow 2 sen castigo.
mas logo como comegarem denacer. porla guisa que el
melhor poder. os talhe de Rayz. nebrando se do pmg66
de hely sacerdote de syl6. (f) E aqwelles que forem
mays honestos 2. demelhores entendimewtos amoeste
OS 2. castigue os por palauras a pnmeyra 2 aseguwda
uez. (g) Mas os maaos 2 duros de coragow 2 os sobre-
uosos 2 OS desobedientes en comego desse peccado. cor-
rega 2 castigue por agoutes ou por outra correygow
corporal, sabendo aqwdo que diz a scnptwra. (h) O
sandeu now se correge nem castiga por palauras. (i)
E diz mays .Castiga 2 fire oteu filho cow au4ra 2 liuraras
a sua alma da morte.

CAP. VIII. (Red) De quaaes ha dedar conto 2 razon adeus
oabbade 2 por que

(a) O (Black) abbade sempre se deue (ras. 2 litt.) nem-
brar 2 consijrar que he abbade 2 padre 2 que assi he

CAP. VIII jj^Q 2 chamado de todolos outros que Ihe som comen-
dados. 2 deue de saber, quekaquel aque mays he come-
tido. mays Ihe sera reqwerido 2. demandado. (b)
Outro sy saba 2 co^^sijre qwam
(V Vo.)

forte 2 alta cousa recebeo. aqwal he reger almas 2 seruir
aos custumes 2. uoowtades demuytos. (c) E huuws
tractar 2 reger. 2 correger. por affaagos. 2 outros por
doestos. 2 outros porrogos 2. conselhos 2. por amoesta-
mewtos. (d) E segundo aqzmlidade 2. propriedade 2
condigow 2 entendimewto 2 conhecimewto decada huum.
assi se apparelhe oabbade 2 cowforme atodos. ental
guisa que now tansoomente el now padega nem leixe
passar. perda nem danno nem mingua da companha
ael cometida. mas ajnda alegre se en no acrecentamewto
da boa cowpanha. (e) Ante todalas cousas o abbade
new poruentura dissimulando 2 fazewdo que now uee
as cousas. ou desprezando. 2. teendo enpouco a sahude.
das almas ael cometidas. now haja new faga moor, cura
2 cuydado das cousas transitorias 2. terreaaes que ham
desfalecer. que das almas dos setis subditos mas sempre
cuyde 2 pense que recebeo encarrego 2. cuydado de
Reger almas, das quaaes ha de dar conto 2 razow. (f)
E no7i murmiire nem se querele por la sustancia 2 mantij-
mento do mosteyro se for pouco. mas nembre se da
quelo que he scripto. (g) Primeyramewte querede 2.
demandade o Reyno de deus 2 a sua. iustiga. 2 todas
estas cousas. uos seram dadas 2 apresentadas. (h) E
diz ajnda mays a iscnptura: Now desfalece nehuwza
cousa. aaq/^dles que temem 2 sgruem a deus. (i) E saba
oabbade. que aquel que recebeo cura 2 cuydado per
reger. almas, deue se apparelhar. 2 aguisar. pera. dar
conto 2 razon dellas. (k) E qwanto conto de frayres el
teuer so sua cura. conhega 2. saba por certo. que en
no dia do juyzo. ha de dar conto 2 razon a deus. de todas
essas almas. 2 sen duuida nehuwza 2 da sua alma. (1)
E assy sempre temendo 2. receando a demanda 2 en-
querigon do pastor que ha desseer feyta das ouelhas ael
cometidas. qwando se el cauidar. 2 guardar. das Razoowes
alheas 2 trabalhar de dar boom conto 2 Razow dos
feytos dos outros. estonce el sera soHcito 2 diligewte
pera cauidar 2 guardar das suas Razoowes das qwaaes ha

^ dedar cowto 2 recado. (m) E outro sy. qwando el. os
outms ben ensinar. 2 doutnnar. 2 amoestar que se
enmendem. estonce sera el por la boa ministragow.
(VI Ro)
emendado 2 quite dos uicios 2 peccados.

CAP. IX. (Red) De como deuem seer chamados os frayres a
conselho :

(a) S (Black) empre qwando algumas cousas grandes se
houuerem detrautar 2 fazer no mosteyro. chame oabbade
toda acongregagon .2 diga el. aqz^do que quer trautar
ou fazer. (b) E depoys que el ouuir o conselho dos
frayres. traute 2 consijre ben en seu coragow. 2 aqwdlo
que el entender. 2 lulgar. 2 disser que he mays proueytoso.
esso faga. (c) E por tanto dissemos que todos fossem
chamados a co«selho. por que por muytas uezes. de-
mostra deus ao mays peq«eno. aqi^ello. que he melhor
2 mays proueytoso. (d) E os frayres assy dem o con-
selho cow toda sogeygon 2 humildade. que now presumaw
nem ousem teer 2 defender soberuosamente. aqz^dlo qtie
aelles parecer melhor. 2 mays proueytoso. mas el penda
2 ste mays no aluidro 2. juyzo do abbade que deles. 2
todos obeedegam. 2 consentam aaq«dlo qtie el julgar
2 disser. que he mays proueytoso 2 mays saawo. (e)
Mas assi como conuem 2 perteece aos discipulos obedeecer
ao meestre. ben assi conuen 2 perteece ael (azer 2 ordenar
discretamewte 2 iustamente todalas cousas. (f) Poys
por esto. todos. cowuen assaber os monges 2 oabbade
sigam 2 guardem esta regla que nos ameestra 2 ensina.
entodalas cousas 2. preceptos 2 mandamewtos dela. 2
nehuuw. now desvihe della neyciamewte fazewdo o
contrayro della cow pr'isumngom ou desprezamewto.
(g) Nehuum no mosteyro now siga nem faga a voowtade
do seu proprio coragom. nem seja ousado nehuuwz de
contender ne hauer enteewgow? new palauras soberuosa-
mente cow o seu abbade. dentro new fora do mosteyro.
(h) Aqwal cousa se presumir 2 for ousado de a iazer.
seja por ello sometido 2. posto aadisciplina da regla.
(i) Pero esse abbade faga todalas cousas cow temor de
deus 2 guarda da santa regla. sabendo sen duuida
nehuwa que de todolos seus iuyzos ha dedar Razow
adeus juyz muy iusto 2 dereyto. (k) Mas se alguwas

CAP. IX QQug^g peqwenas se houuerew de fazer enprol do mosteyro.
(Sp. 4 litt.) chame oabbade a conselho tansoomgwte os
anciaawos. assi como he scripto. (1) Faze todalas
cousas con conselho. 2 depoys
(VI Vo.)
que as fezeres now te rependeras.

CAP. X. (a) (Red) Quaaes som os Jnstrumentos das boas
obras.

P (Black) rimeyramewte ante todalas cousas. amar dews
de todo coragow 2 de toda alma 2 cow toda uirtude 2
forgas della. depoys amar o seu proximo assi como.
sy medes. (b) Desy non matar. now cometer adulteno.
now fazer furto. now cobijgar. now dizer falso testimunho.
Honrar todolos homeews. 2 aqwello que cada huuw now
quensi que Ihe. fezessem now o faga aoutrem. Negar
cada huuTW sy meesmo. por tal que siga ihe^u christo.
(c) O seu corpo castigar. os manjares 2 deleytos delle
now amar. O jeiuum amar. os proues recriar. o niiu
uestir. O enfermo visitar. omorto soterrar. (d) Aaqwal
que for entribulagow acorrer. O doente consolar. Dos
autos 2 feytos do mundo se arredar 2 delles se quitar.
Now amar cousa nehuma mays que \h.es\x christo. (e)
Ira now acabar. tempo de sanha 2 deuinganga now
aguardar new attender. (f) Engano no cora^ow now
teer. Paz falso now dar. Caridade now leixar new desem-
parar. Non iurar. new poruentura seja penuro. (g)
Uerdade decoragon 2 deuoowtade (2 eras.) porla boca
dizer. Mai por mal. now fazer new dar. Injuria anehuuw
now fazer. mas se Iha fezerem. cow paciencia a soffrer.
(h) Os imijgos amar. Now maldizer. os que o maldis-
serem 2. uituperarem. mas antes bendizer delles. (i)
As jniurias 2 perseguigooews por amor de iustiga soffrer.
2 sopportar. (k) Now seer soberuoso. new muyto
bebedor deuinho ou de outra cousa qz^e embebedar possa.
Nem seer muyto comedor 2 gargawton. ne muyto dor-
midor 2. sonnorewto. new priguigoso 2 deleixado 2
modorno. (1) Now murmurador 2 contradizedor dal-
guwa cousa cow maa uoowtade 2 como now deue. Nem
seer detraydor nem maldezidor denehuuw por detras
cow maa entengow. (m) A sua speranga a dews cometer
2 todalas suas cousas en el poer. (n) Quando alguuw ben

CAP. X gnsy uir. 2 sentir. adeus ode 2 apponha 2 now assy
meesmo. mas o mal. saba 2 seja certo que del uen 2
precede sempre. 2 a sy s66 .oponha. (o) Odiado juyzo
temer.
(VII Ro)

2 do Jnferno logar defogo 2 de exuffre. 2 de penas per-
durauijs sempre se spantar 2 dello temor 2 pauor hau6r.
(p) A vida perdurauil. cow todo desejo 2 cobij^a spiritual
desejar. (q) E amorte encadahuum dia ante os sens
olhos sospeyta poer. 2 hauer. (r) Os autos 2 feytos 2
obras da sua uida. entoda hora guardar. sabendo por
certo que en todo logar deus oolha 2 vee 2 esguarda os
sew^feytos. (s) As suas cuydagoowes maas que ueerem
ao seu coragon. logo oolhando 2 esgz^ardando ajhesu
christo 2 dessy empuxando as. en el as quebrantar.
2 ao seu anciaawo spiritual 2 confessor, as demostrar.
(t) Asua boca demaa 2 de empeeciuil fala. guardar. (r)
Muyto falar now amar. Palauras uaaws ou autas 2
cowuinhauijs pera Rijr. now falar. Rijso muyto ou sacudido
2 desramado .now amar. (u) i\s ligoowes santas. deboa-
mente ouuir. (v) Aa oragow amehude se achegar. Os sens
peccados traspassados cow lagrimas ou cow gimidos
cada dia en sua oragow adeus confessar. (w) Desses
peccados desy adeante se emendar. Os desejos da carne
now acabar. (x) A sua uoowtade propria, auorrecer
2 entejar. (y) Aos preceptos 2 encomendamewtos do ab-
bade entodalas cousas obedecer. ajnda que el doutra guisa
iaga 2 porlo contrayro desta regla uiua. oque deus now
mande. nembrando 2 acordando se o discipulo daqwele
precepto 2 mandamewto de nosso senhor ihesu christo,
no qual diz. Aqwellas cousas que uos elles dizem. fazede
as. mas as que elles fazem. now as qz^eyrades uos fazer
Now querer nem desejar a seer, dito 2 chamado santo
antes que oseja .mas primeyramgw/e o seer, por tal que o
seja dito mays uerdadeiramewte. (z) Os pnceptos 2 man-
damgwtos de deus .porfeytos 2 por obras encadahuum
dia complir. (aa) A castidade amar. Nehuuw now
auorrecer. cow odio new entejar. (bb) Zeo mkao 2
enVeja now hauer. conteengon 2 porfia now amar. (cc) Aleu-
antamgwto de uaam gloria. 2 gabamentos fugir. (dd) Os
uelhos 2 anciaawos honrar; os mancebos 2 os mays
juniores amar. (ee) En no amor de i hesu christo. porlos

CAP. X jiT^fjgQg orar. (ff) Antes que se ponha osol con aq^elles
cow que houuer. discordia. enpaz 2 en boom amorio se
poer 2 tornar. 2 da misericordia de dews nunca deses —
(VII Vo)

perar. (gg) Eys estes som os instrumewtos 2 me-
steres da arte spiritual, con quel auida spiritual he for-
mada 2 fabricada 2 composta. (hh) Os q^maes jnstru-
mewtos. se de nos. dedia 2 de noute continuadamewte
perseuerando. forem complidos. 2 no dia de juyzo. assi-
jnados 2 demostrados. seer nos ha dada do nosso senhor
deus. aquella mercee qtie nos el prometeo. (ii) A qua!
olho domem nunca vyo. nem orelha ouvyo. new cora —
gom domem pode pensar aqz^ellas cousas que deus ten
apristes 2 apparelhadas peraaqz^dles que o amam. (jj)
As offecinas 2 logares. hu todas estas cousas cow dili-
gencia deueomos deiazer 2 obrar. som as claustras 2
engarramgwtos dos mosteyros perseuerando 2 stando
lirmes na cowgregagon:

CAP. XI. (Red) Da obediencia.

(a) (Blue with red dots) O (Black) primeyro graao da
humildade he obediencia sen detardawga. (b) Aquesta
conuen 2 perteece akque lies que now amem nehuma
cousa mays que ihesu christo. (c) Estes. tanto que
Ihes por lo seu mayor for encomewdada alguwza cousa.
now saben padecer nem poer detardawca en afazer. mas
assy obedeecem como se Ihes a deus mandasse fazer.
(d) E esto. por lo seruigo santo 2 uoto que prometeron.
ou por medo das penas do fogo do jnferno. ou por amor,
da gloria da uida perdurauil. (e) Dos quaaes diz o
nosso senhor deus. Como me ouuyo cow aorelha. logo
sen detardanga. me obedeeceo. (f) E diz ajnda mays
aos meestre^ 2 doutores. (g) Aquel que uos ouue. mJTW
ouue. (h) E por esto estes taaes logo leixando 2 desam-
parando as suas cousas. 2 as suas proprias voowtades.
muyto asinha desoccupam 2 tiram suas maaos daqz^ello
que fezeron leixando por acabar. 2 cow o pee uizinho da
obedencia .obedeecem 2 seguem por feytos 2 por obras
au comandamewto do seu mayor. 2 assi como enhuurn
momewto^ 2 espago muy peqweno. osobredito manda-
mento do meestre 2 as obras perfeytas do discipulo.
entriwgueza do timor. de deus ambas estas causas jun-

CAP XI

tamewte asinha som feytas 2 complidas. (i) Aquelles
que ham amor. 2 desejo de hir aauida perdurauil. pera.
esto escolhem 2 tomam caminho 2 carreyra muyto
streyta. como o diz nosso senhor ihesu christo. (j)
Streyta he acarreyra que aduz 2
(VIII Ro.)

trage o homem aa uida perdurauil. por que estes now
querem uiu^;' porlo seu aluidro nem por seu talante new
querew obedeecer. aos seus desejos 2 deleytos 2 plazeres
da sua carne. mas querem andar. por juyzo 2 manda-
mento alheo. 2 uiuer 2 morar nos mosteyros 2 desejam
hauuer. abbade sobre sy aque obedeegam. (k) Sen
duuida nehuma. estes taaes seguem 2 complem. aquella
sentencia do senhor. na qua! diz: (1) Now vij a iazer
aminha voowtade. mas daqwel que me envyou. mas
aqwesta meesma obediencia. estonce sera acceptabil 2
recebida ante deus. 2 apraziuil 2 dolce aos homeems. se
aqwello que he mandado 2 encomendado ao discipulo
for feyto now cow temor. new tardinheyramente. new
neghgentemente. new cow murmuro. new cow responson.
de now querer. 2 sen referta. por que aobediencia qiie
aos mayores he feyta. adetis he feyta. ca el disse: (m)
Aquel que uos ouue. mjw ouue. (n) E por tawto conuen.
2 perteece aos discipulos obedeecer cow boo coragow ledo.
por que deus ama muyto oque o serue cow pXazer 2
alegria. (o) Ca se o discipulo obedeece cow maao
coragow 2 cow uoowtade triste. 2 now tansolamewte porla.
boca. mas ajnda no coragow se murmurar. posto que ja
compla 2 iaga omandado que Ihe encomendarow. pero ja
Ihe now sera recebido de deus. oqual esguarda 2 ueew
ocoragow do murmurador. (p) E por tal feyto 2 obedi-
encia. now hauera graga nehuwza nem galardom. mas.
hauera. pena dos murmuradores. se se now emendar. 2
satisfazer do peccado.

CAP. XII. (Red) Do silencio: . .

(a) -F (Black) agamos aqwdlo que diz o prophita. Disse
eu. guardarey as minhas carreyras. que now peque na
minha lingua, (b) Fuse guarda ad minha boca. fize me
mudo 2 humildey. me 2 caley defalar. as boas cousas.
(c) En estas palaums nos demostra oprophgte. que se al-
guwas uezes. por amor 2 guarda do silencio now deuemos

Sen defalar .new dizer as boas cousas. qwanto mays, deuemos
de cessar 2 calar nos das maas palauras por la pena do
peccado? (d) E por esto. aos discipulos pM'eytos por
graueza 2 peso por guarda do calaR. poucas uezes Ihes
seja outorgada lecen —
(VIII Vo.)

ga defalar. ajnda que queyram falar deboas cousas 2
santas 2 de edificagon. por que scripto he. (e) En no
muyto falar. now poderas fugir nem scapar. de peccado.
(f) E en outro logar. diz a escnptura. Amorte 2
a uida sta nas maaos da lingua, conuew assaber no
calar. 2 falar. das maas cousas 2 das boas, (g) Ca ao
meestre s66 conuen 2 perteece falar 2 ensinar. 2 ao dis-
cipulo ouuir 2 calar. (h) E porewde se o discipulo
quiser demandar 2 preguntar algumas cousas. pr^gunte
as 2 demande as. ao prior cow toda humildade 2 sugeygow
de reuerenga. (i) Lygeyrices 2 ioguetes 2. escarnhos. 2
palauras ociosas 2 que mouam a Rijso. detodo entodo
damnamos 2. antredizemos 2 defendemo5 sempre en
todo logar 2 atal fala como esta. now leixamos nem
damos logar ao discipulo abrir sua boca.

CAP. XIII. (Red) Da humildade.

(a) (Blue with red outline) I (Black) rmaawos a santa
scriptura clama 2 braada anos 2 diz nos. Todo aquel que
se exalga. sera humildado 2 abaixado. 2 aquel que se
humilda 2 se ten pouco. sera exalgado. (b) Poys qwando
esto diz a santa scriptura. demostra nos. qtie todo exalga-
mewto. he geeragom 2 maneyra de soberua. (c) Da qual
geeragom 2 maneyra de soberua. nos demostra opropheta
que se cauidaua 2 guardaua. dizendo. (d) Senhor omeu
coragow now foy exalgado en soberua. nem os metis
olhos. now foron soberuos nem aleuantados: (e) Nen
andey presumindo de min nem pensando engrandes
cousas. nem en cousas marauilhosas sobre mjw 2 sobre
minhas forgas: (f) Mas qtie senhor? Se eu now senty
nem andey humildosamente. mas exalcey aminha alma
ensoberuecewdo 2 teendo me enmuyto 2. prgsumywdo
de my grandes cousas. tal galardon 2. consolagow des.
tu aaminha alma senhor. qual sente 2. padece o menino
que ajnda cria sua madre no collo. se Ihe tira ateta do
leyte ante do tempo, (g) Onde j rmaawos se. nos qM^re-

XIII mos hsLuer 2 percalgar. aalteza da muy grande humildade.
2 qz/eremos 2 desejamos vijnr. muyto asinha. aaqwelhe ex-
algamewto da gloria celestial, aaqwal porlahumildade
2 abaixamewto desta uida presente. podemos sobir
(ras. 1 It.) poren por nossos boos feytos 2 obras sobindo
2 aproueytando de ben em —

melhor (catchword)
Fol IX has been lost. (X Ro.)

CAP. XIV. (a) guma hora esguardde deus 2 nos ueja encHna-
dos 2(sp. 44 mm.) 2 maaos feytos 2 sen proueyto. 2
perdoando nos (sp. 48 mm.) uida. por qtie elehe piadoso
2 misencordioso. 2 att (sp. 50 mm.) mos 2. emendemos
en melhor. diga nos depo (sp. 55 mm.), (b) Aqwestas
cousas 2 estes feytos fezeste tu. 2 (sp. 58 mm.)

CAP. XV. (a) (Red) O (Black) segundo graao da humildade
he (sp. 58 mm.) se alguuw now querendo nem amand
(sp. 60 mm.) non se deleyte nem queyra comprir os sens
d(?) (sp. 62 mm.) obras sigaw aqz^ella uoz do nosso
senhor (sp. 68 mm.) fazer aminha uoowtade. mas auoow-
tade (sp. 70 mm.) ajnda mays a escnptura. (b) A
deleyta i (sp. 70 mm.) ha 2 merece pena pera. sempre.
2 anecessid (sp. 70 mm.) 2 da affli^om que h (sp. 106
mm.) lardon 2 coro (sp. 125 mm.)

CAP. XVI. (Blue) O (sp. 140 mm.) guindo ihe^u (sp. 128 mm.)
ataa morte

CAP. XVII. (Red) Do (?) (sp. 102 mm.) (a) (Red) O (Black)
quarto graao da (sp. 100 mm.) dam fazer algUTwa co
(sp. 100 mm.) tomar deboamen (sp. 102 mm.) cousas
duras 2. as cont (sp. 100 mm.) quer que Ihe forem feytas
ou (sp. 105 mm.) do as. now enfraquega new se (sp. 92
mm.) diz a escnptura. (b) Aquel que perseuerar atcia
(sp. 65 mm.) O teu coragon seja confortado 2 forte. 2
per (sp. 65 mm.) (c) E q«erendo nos demostrar a santa
scriptura. (sp. 56 mm.) depadecer 2. soffrer ajnda as
cousas contrayras (sp. 48 mm.) nhor deus . (d) Diz en
persoa daqwdles que as padecem 2. so (sp. 42 mm.)
amor senhor. grauemente somos afiflitos 2 atormewtad
(sp. 35 mm.) dia .2 somos taaes como as ouelhas que
leuaw amatar (sp. 30 mm.)

^Vu (XVo.)

(sp. 40 mm.) i nehuw^a cousa. (e) E estes ja seguros da
speranga (sp. 48 mm.) seguem se. 2 dizem. (f) Mas en
todas estas cou (sp. 49 mm.) s 2. uencemos 2 con pacien-
cia soffremos. por amor (sp. 52 mm.) on. (g) E diz
mays a escriptura en outro logaR. (sp. 54 mm.) oueste. 2
por fogo detribulagoowes. 2 de enjurias (sp. 56 mm.)
ste. assy como aprata he examinada 2 pur-(sp. 60 mm.)-
(h) Etrouueste nos alago 2 a estreyteza 2 (sp. 62 mm.)
bre nos muytas tribulagoowes. (i) E pera. nos (sp. 68
mm.) uiuer so poderio deprelado. seguese 2 (sp. 70 mm.)
nossas cabecas. (h) Mas aqwestes que pera. (sp. 70 mm.)
mandamcwto do senhor. ennas cousas (sp. 70 mm.)
ribulagoowes. 2 affligoowes. (sp. 75 mm.) som sen (sp.
108 mm.) (6 litt. legi non possunt) apparam aoutra (sp.
125 mm.) aaqwel que Ihes (sp. 128 mm.) uam. per (sp.
130 mm.) ios (sp. 128 mm.) goowes. 2 ben (sp. 100 mm.)

CAP. XVIII. (Red) Do quinto grAao .d. h. (sp. 100 mm.)

(a) (Black) odalas maas cuydagoowes (sp. 100 mm.)
OS peccados que el cometeo (sp. 102 mm.) a seu abbade
por humilda-(sp. 103 mm.) selha a escnptura 2 diz (sp.
100 mm.) yra dos teus feytos 2 das (sp. 85 mm.) mays.

(b) Confessade uos ao (sp. 62 mm.) 2 por que pera todo
sempre he asua misgncor-(sp. 10 mm.), (c) Senhor.
eunotifiquey 2 demostrey a ty (sp. 52 mm.), (d) Mas
maldades now te encobry. (e) Propusi 2 (sp. 46 mm.)
pronunciarey por confisson. contra (sp. 40 mm.) mal-
dades ao senhor. 2 tu senhor logo que me per (sp. 32
mm.), pgrdoaste acrueza 2 maleza domeu coragow.

CAP. XIX. (Red) Do seXto g. (sp. 30 mm.) (a) (Black) graao
da humildade he. se omonge for contento de to —
(XI Ro.)

da uileza 2 baixeza 2 desprezammto. 2 pera todalas
cousas que Ihe forem encomendadas qice faga. se julgar
por maao obreiro 2 now digno. dizendo cow opropheta.
(b) Anehuwza cousa som tornado. & now soowz boom per
(azer cousa nehuwa como a deuo deiazer. 2 now no
entendy new soube nem conhecy. 2 soom feyto. assi
como besta sen entendimewto ante ty. 2 eu sempre
s66m con tego now me partindo de ty.

CAP. XX. (Red) Do septimo graao da humildade. (Blue and
red) (a) O (Black) septimo graao da humildade he se
omonge se demostrar mays vil 2 mays peq«eno &c. mays
baixo detodos. 2 now tan soomente. por la sua boca
odizer. mas ajnda dentro na uoowtade. do seu coragon
assy o teer 2 creer. humildando se 2 dizendo con opro-
phe/a. (b) Eu soom uerme. 2 non s66 homem. soom
doesto dos homeems 2 engeytamewto 2 auorrecimgwto
do pob66. (c) E fuy exal^ado en honra de soberua
deste mundo. mas agora soom humildado 2 abaixado 2
mays peqweno de todolos vaeus jrmaawos. 2 cowfuso
2. enuergongado de todolos mens peccados. (d) E
consolando se en esta humildade 2 abaixamgwto. gragas
adews dando. segue (se, add. inter lineas) 2 diz cow
oprophg/a. (e) Senhor. ben me he 2 grande ben me
fezeste por que me humildaste. poR. tal qwe eu. apren-
desse 2 soubesse os tens preceptos 2 mandamewtos.

CAP. XXI. (Red) Do outauo graao da humildade. O (Black)
ovtauo graao da humildade he. q^iie omonge now faga
por seu aluidro outro modo 2 outra maneyra. de uiuer.
saluo aqwella (\ue a Regla do mosteyro comvaxxhum
manda 2. ten ordenada. ou aqwella que mostram os
exemplos booms dos seus mayores.

CAP. XXII. (Red) Do nono graao da humildade.

(Blue and red) (a) O (Black) nono graao da humildade
he. se omonge gardar 2 reteuer a sua lingua do falar. 2
teewdo silencio now fale ataa que opreguntem. mo-
strando nos 2 dizendo nos a escnptura. que no muyto
falar. now podera homewz fugir ne scupar de peccado.
(b) E que ohomem lingaz 2 de muyta palaura. now
sera ben enderengado nem ben guiado sobre aterra nas
muytas palauras.

CAP. XXIII. (Red) Do decimo graao.

(a) O (Black) decimo graao da humildade he. se o monge
se now mouer de ligeyro cow leuidade a Rijr. nem for
appronto 2 aprestes nen attento en seu Rijso. por qtie
scripto he. (b) Osandeu en 2 en scarnhos exalga 2 leuanta
a sua uoz.

CAP XXIV. (Red) Do undecimo gmao da humildade.
(XI Vo.)

(a) (Blue) O (Black) vndecimo graao da humildade he.
que qwando omowge houue/' de falar. fale dolcemente.
2 gratiosamente 2 appasso 2 sen-Rijso. humildosamente.
2 con graueza 2 peso 2 poucas palau^'as 2. Razoauijs
2 ben asseentadas. (b) E now seja muyto braador de
uoz. ca scripto he. (c) O sabedor en poucas palauras
se demostra.

CAP XXV. (Red) Do duodecimo graao da humildade.

(In the left hand margin a different hand has added
the following note on this section, partly cut off by the
binder's knife:
(a) OS xii. graaos da
yldade. se podem
arar. em. estos
e. s. Despregar
do. Despregar
si. meesmo. (b) Horn
pregar nem huum
zerlhe de seer de-
i despregado. (c) Driwc (?)
as obras quiser.
er. podera assy
i em esta uida
myldoso. pdr que seia
gado muy muyto
jo ceeo. (d) martimpez
o. Ixiiij .iij fim
terceira parte deseu

(e) (Red) O (Black) duodecimo graao da humildade he.
que omonge now tans66mente cow ocoragow 2 cow
auoowtade mas ajnda cow o corpo nas obras de fora.
mostre sempr^ aaqi^des que o virem. que ha en sy hu-
mildade. conuew assaber. na obra. no oratorio, no mini-
sterio 2 no seruigo. na orta. na carreyra. no agro. 2
en qualqwer logar que seuer ou andar ou steuer sempre
seja cow a cabega jnclinada 2 cow os olhos ficados en
terra, hauendo 2 t^endo se en toda hora por R64o 2
culpado dos seus peccados. (f) E pense 2 cuyde que
ja he presentado no muy spantoso 2 temeroso juyzo

XXV de deus. dizendo sempre aqueWo que aquel publicano
do euangelho. cow os olhos ficados en terra., disse Senhor.
eu peccador 2 maao. non s66m digno leuantar os meus
olhos ao ceeo. (g) E diga ajnda con. opropheta. (h)
Encuruado soom. 2 abaixado 2 humildado soow decada
parte, (i) Por tanto depoys que omonge sobir por todos
estos sobreditos doze graaos da humildade. logo muyto
asinha vijnra aaqz^gUa caridade de deus. a qua\ perfeyta.
langa fora todo temor. pella qual todalas cousas. que
primeyramente fazia 2 guardaua cow temor. estonce.
sen trabalho nehuuw. 2 sen temor comegara de guardar
2 iazer por lo boom costume que houue. assy como se ja
ohouuesse de sua naturaleza propria, now ja por
temor das penas do jnferno. mas por amor de ihe^u
christo .2 por esse boow costume 2 boow usu que husou.
2 por deleytagow 2 amor 2 desejo das uirtudes. (k) As
qwaaes cousas nosso senhor. deus teera por ben demo-
strar. no seu obreyro 2 seruidor ja limpo porlo spiritu
santo 2 purgado dos uicios 2 peccados.

CAP. XXVI. (Red) A que tempo, se ham de leuantar os monges
aas horas de deus .que se ham de dizer de noute.
(a) (Blue) N (Black) o tempo do jnuerno. conuem assabe;'
des as calendas de nouewbro ataa pascoa. seguwdo boa
cow-

(XII Ro.)

sijragon de Razon 2 dedescrigon. (sp. 2 litt.) aas oyto
horas da noute se leuantem os monges aas uigilias.
assi que pouco mays da mea noute dormam. 2 feyta ja
a sua digeston. conuen assaber os seus corpos 2 os seM5
stamagos ja pousados (re, add. supra man. s. XV) 2
asseentados. aleuantem se dds uigilias. (b) E o spago
que fica aos frayres depoys das uigilias. seja por aaqwelles
frayres que houuerem mester. de leer ou pensar 2 meditar
alguTwa cousa de salteyro ou deligoowes. (c) Mas
dela pascoa ataa sobreditas calendas de nouembro. assy
temperem 2 tangam ahora en qtie se possam dizer as
uigilias da noute. que fique huuw muy pequeno entre-
uallo 2 spago antre as uigilias 2 os laudes. en q«anto os
frayres possam iR das necessarias da natura. 2 logo se
sigam OS laudes. (d) Os quaaes se deuem de diz^r
qwando comegar amanheecer.

CAP. XXVII. (Red) Quantos salmos se deuem a dizer nas
horas da noute.

(a) N (Black) o tempo do jnuerno aas uigilias dito ja
primeyramente o uerso Deus inadiutoriuw meuw in-
tende. domine ad adiuuandum me festina (b) E depoys
Domine labia mea aperies: 2 os meum annunciabit
laudem tuam. (c) O qual dito por tres uezes ajuntem
logo 2 digam. o terceyro psalmo con gloria patri.
conuen assaber. (d) Domine quid multiplicati sunt.
(e) E de poys deste. ononagesimo qz^arto salmo. que
he Uenite exultemus domino, cow antiphaaw. ou certa.-
mente digam no cantado chaawmente sen antiphaaw
se tal tempo for. (f) Desy. siga se ohymno ambrosiano.
(g) Depoys. sigamse sex salmos cow antiphaaws. Os
qwaaes ditos. 2 ouersete dito. de oabbade a beewgon.
aaquel. que houuer de dizer aligow. 2 depoys que se todos
asseewtarem nos scannos 2 seedas. leam os frayres. hora
huums. hora outros. tres ligoowes porlo liuro sobre olitaril.
(h) Antre as qwaaes sejam cantados tres responsos.
Mas aquel que cantar o responso depoys de terceyra
ligon. diga Gloria patri. (i) Equando o comegar adizer.
oque canta. todos logo muyto asinha se aleuantem de
suas seedas por honra 2 reuerenga da santa trijndade.
(k) Nas uigilias dos noutwrnos. sejam leudos os liuros.
assi do testamewto uelho. como do testamewto nouo. 2
sejam ajnda leudas as exposigoowes deles, as qwaaes forow
feytas por los santos padres catolicos 2 fiees. 2 muy
nomeados doutores.
(XII Vo.)

(1) E depoys destas tres ligooes con seus Responsos.
sigam se outros sex salmos cantados cow alleluya. (m)
Depoys destes. digam aligow do apostolo decor 2 ouersete
2 a supplicagow da ladainha. cowuen assaber. Okyrieley-
son. 2 assy sejam acabadas 2. assijndas as uigilias das
noutes.

CAP. XXVIII. (Red) Como se deuem adizer as uigilias das
noutes no tempo do estio (a) (Blue) D (Black) es a pascoa
ataa as calendas denouembro aas uigilias seja teuda
toda aqwawtidade dos salmos. pdla guisa 2 maneyra que
suso ja he dito. saluo que as ligoowes porlo liuro now
sejam ditas por las noutes que som breues 2 pequenas.

CAP

xxviii mas por essas tres ligoowes. seja dita huma ligow do
testamewto uelho de cor. (b) E depoys dela. huum
Responso breue. 2 todalas outras cousas sejam compHdas
porla. guisa que dito he das uigilias. conuen assaber.
que nuwca aas uigilias das noutes. sejam ditos menos
da qwantidade de doze salmos. tirades otgrceyro salmo
2 ononagesimo quarto, os qwaaes som. (c) Domine
quid multiplicati stmt .2 Venite exultemus domino.

CAP. XXIX. (Red) PER que maneyra se ham de dizer as uigil-
ias no dia do domingo.'. (a) N (Black) o dia do domingo.
mays cedo se aleuantem os monges aas uigilias que
ennos outros dias (b) Nas qz^aaes uigilias seja teuda.
amensura 2 qwantidade dos salmos. assi como de suso
sposemos 2 dissemos. conuen assaber. o sex salmos
cantados 2 ditos 2 o uersete. enton asseentem .se. todos
nas suas seedas ordenadamewte 2 por ordem. 2 learn
porlo liuro quatro ligoowes. cow seus responsos. porlla.
guisa que acima dissemos. (c) E oque en esto nouturno
can tar oquarto responso. diga cow el. a Gloria patn. (d)
Aquel qwando a comegar. logo todos se aleuantem cow
reuerencia. (e) Depoys das qz^aaes ligoowes. digam
por ordem outros sex salmos cow antiphaaws. assi como
os primeyros 2 o uersete. (f) De pos dos quaaes salmos
leam cow decabo outras quatro ligoowes. cow seus re-
sponsos porlo modo 2 ordem que acima dissemos. (g)
E depoys destas qwatro ligoowes. sejam ajnda ditas tres
canticas dos prophetas. qztaaes oababde stabelecer 2
mandar. (h) As qwaaes canticas. cow alleluya sejam
cantadas. (i) E dito o uersete. 2 depoys que o abba-
(XIII Ro.)

de. deR. abbeengon. sejam leudas outras qwatro ligoowes
do testamewto nouo. perscquel modo 2 maneyra das
outras suso ditas. (k) E depoys do q//arto responso.
comece o abbade ohymno. Te deum laudamus. (1)
O qual acabado. lea o abbade aligon do euangelho
stando todos cow honra 2 cow tremor leuantados. A
qual acabada. todos respondam. A me N. (m) E
apos esto. diga logo oabbade ohymno. Te decet laus.
(n) E dada abeewgon. comegem se os laudes. (o) Aqual
ordem das uigilias. jgualmente se tenha 2 guarde no
dia do domingo. en todo tempo .assi do ueraawo como
2 33

xxfx do jnu^-mo. saluo per uentura. se se leuantarem mays
tarde do que sooe oque deus now mande. 2 por esto
abreuiarem alguma cousa das ligoowes ou dos responsos.
(p) Daqual cousa. empero. se deuem decauidar 2 guardar.
que now acontega. (g) E se acontecer. estontew aquel
por cuja culpa 2 negligewcia ueer. dignamente satisfaga
adeus no oratorio.

CAP. XXX. (Red) Per que guisa se ham de dizer os laudes
no dia do domiwgo.

(a) (Blue) N (Black) o dia do domingo aos laudes.
digam logo primeyramente osexagesimo sexto salmo.
conuem assaber. Deus misereatur nostri. sen antiphaaw
chaamente. (b) E depoys deste digam oquinquagesimo.
conuem assaber. o Miserere mei deus. con alleluya. (c)
Depos oqz/al sejam ditos. o centesimo septimo decimo
salmo. 2 o sexsagesimo segundo. qiie som. Confitemini
domino . 2 Deus deus meus. (d) E depoys as heengoones
2 OS louuores. quer dizer. Benedicite omwia opera domini
domino. 2 Laudate dominum decelis. E huma ligon do
apocalypsi de cor. (e) E o Responsete. (f) E o hymno
ambrosiano. (g) E o uersete. (h) E o cantico do
do euangelho. conuem assaber. o. Benedict?^5 dominus
deus israd. 2 aladaynha. 2 assy sejam acabados.

CAP, XXXI. (Red) Como 2 en que maneyra sejam ditos os
laudes nos dias priuados. (a) E (Black) n nos dias
priuados asolennidade dos laudes assi seja feyta. conuew
assaber. o sexsagesimo sexto salmo. seja dito sen anti-
phaaw spagiosamente huuw pouco. assi como no do
domingo. por tal que todos occorram 2 cheguem ao
quinqwagesimo. oqwal seja dito con antiphaaw. (b)
E depoys deste sejam ditos outros dous salmos. segundo
he de costume, conuem assaber. Aa segunda feyra.
oqwinto 2 otricesimo quinto. scilicet, (c) Uerba mea.
2 (Underscored in red)
(XIII Vo.)

dixit iniust«5. (d) E (Black) aa terga feria. oqz^adra-
gesimo segundo 2 o qwinqwagesimo sexto. (Underscoring
in red) scilicet ludica medeus. 2 Miserere mei deus
miserere mei. (Black) (e) E aa quarta feria. osexsagesimo
tercio 2 o sexsagesimo quarto, scilicet Exaudi de^s ora —

XXXI ^wnem meam cum. deprgcor. 2 Te decet hymnw^ deus.
(f) E aa qu'mta feria .o outogesimo septimo 2 o outo-
gesimo nono. scilicet. Domine deus salutis mee. 2. Domine
refugium. (g) (Red) ^

(Black) E aa sexta feria. oseptuagesimo qwinto. 2
ononagesimo primo. scilicet. Notus in iudea deus. 2
Bonum est confiteri domino, (h) Mas ao sabbado.
ocentesimo quadragesimo segundo. scilicet. Domine
exaudi orationem meam. 2 o cantico. deuteronomij ,
scilicet. Audite celi que loquor. oqual seja partido en
en duas glorias, (i) En cada huuw dos outms dias.
seja dito huum cantico dos prophetas. cada huum en
seu dia assi como canta a santa egreja deRoma. (k)
Depoys desto todo. sigam se os louuores. scilicet.
Laudate dominum de celis. desy huwa ligon do apostolo.
rezada decor. 2 oresponsete 2 o ambrosiano. oquer
dizer o hymno. 2 o versete. 2 o cantico do euangelho. 2
aladainha. 2 assi se acabem. (1) Esempre na fin dos
laudes 2 da uespera. a oragon dominica. cowuem assaber.
o pater noster. seja dita dopnor. altamgwte. enguisa
qtie o ougam todos. 2 esto por las spinhas 2 mouimewtos
dos scandalos. que sooem. de nacer por tal que todos
uencidos 2 qwebrantados por lo prorometimewto dessa
oragon. na qual dizem. (m) Senhor perdoa anos as
nossos duuidas. assi como nos perdoamos aos nossos
deudores. qiier dizer perdoa nos. os nossos desfaleci-
mewtos 2 errores. assi como nos perdoamos aos que nos
erraron. ouuindo esto. todos se alimpem 2 quitem deste
peccado. (n) Mas entodalas outras horas. apostumeyra
parte dessa oragon. seja dita alta tansoomente que
todos Respondam. Sed libera nos amalo.

CAP. XXXII. (Red) Como 2 en que maneyra. se ham dedizer
as uigilias nas festas dos santos. (a) E (Black) N nas
festas dos santos de doze, ligoowes 2 en todalas solen-
nidades deles assi como dissemos qzie se fizesse no dia
do domingo. assi seja feyto 2 cowzplido. en ellas. tirado
que os salmos 2 as antiphaaws 2 as ligoowes que aesse dia
(XIV Ro.)

perteecerem. sejaw ditos. (b) Mas porem omodo 2
maneyra suso scripta do dia do domiwgo. seja teuda 2
guardada.

CAP. XXXIII. (Red) En quaaes tempos ham de dedizer.
alleluya. (a) D (Black) es a santa pascoa atad opente-
coste. continuadamewte seja dita alleluya. assi nos
salmos come nos Responses, (b) Mas des opentecoste
ataa ocomego da coreesma. entodalas noutes. con os
sex salmos postumeyros tansoomewte seja dita aalleluya
aos nouturnos dos dias priuados. (c) Outro sy. entodo-
los domiwgos afora os da coreesma. as canticas. 2 os
laudes. 2 aprima. 2 a terga.. 2 a sexta 2 anoa. con alleluya
sejam ditas. (d) Mas auespera. con antiphaa«. (e)
Os Responses now sejam ditos con alleluya. saluo des
apascoa ataa opentecoste.

CAP. XXXIV. (Red) Como se ham de dizer as horas de deus.
de dia. (a) (Blue) A (Black) ssi como diz opropheta.
Senhor sete uezes no dia disse. 2 dey louuor. aty. (b)
Oqual numero 2 conto de sete sagrado 2 perfeyto. de
nos assi sera complido. se en no tempo 2 hora dos laudes.
2 da prima 2 da terga. 2 da sexta 2 da noa 2 da uespera
2 da cowpleta. pagarmos os officios da nossa seruidoome,
por que destas horas. diz opropheta. (c) Sete uezes te
louuey no dia. E aas uigilias de noute. esse medes
propheta diz. Aa meatade da noute me leuantaua a
cowffessar. 2 dar louuor. aty. (d) Poys por esto. en
estes tempos demos louuores ao nosso creador. sobre
OS juyzos da sua iustiga. conuen assaber. nos laudes.
na prima, na terga.. na sexta. na noa. na uesp^ra. na
cowpleta. 2 de noute nos leuantemos a confessar 2 dar
louuores ael.

CAP. XXXV. (Red) Quantos salmos se ham de dizer por essas
meesmas horas de dia. (a) J (Black) a dos nouturnos
2 dos laudes ben departimos 2 sposemos 2 declaramos
aordem dos salmos. Agora uejamos das outras horas
seguintes. (b) Na hora da prima, digam tres salmos.
cada huum porsy con sua gloria, (c) E o hymno dessa
meesma hora. depoys que ja disserem ougrso. Deus
inadiutorium meum intende. ante que comecem os salmos.
acabados os tres salmos. digam huma Ugon. 2 o versete.
2 o kyrieleyson. 2 assi sejam enuiadas. (d) E a terga
2 a sexta 2 anoa. por esta medes ordem 2 maneyra.
(XIV Vo.)

/^ \ T> ,

xxxV sejam celebradas 2 ditas. conuen assaber. o uerso. Deus
in adiutorium meum intende. 2 os hymnos dessas medeses
horas. 2 tres salmos 2 aligon 2 o vgrsete 2 okrieleyson.
2 assy sejam enuiadas 2 affijndas. (e) E se a congre-
gagon for grande. sejam cantadas as horas con antiphaaws.
mas se for pequena. rezem nas chaamente se Ihes for
muyto graue de as cantar. (f) Mas ahora da uespgra. seja
terminhada 2 dita con qwatro salmos con suas anti-
phaans: (g) De pos dos qwaaes salmos. digam o capi
tulo. Desy. o Responso. 2 o hymno ambrosiano. 2 o
versete 2 ocantico do euangelho. 2 aladaynha 2 aoragon
do senhor. 2 assi sejam enviadas a deus 2 del recebidas.
(h) A completa seja dita 2 terminhada. con tres salmos.
(i) Os quaaes salmos. dereytamente chaanos sen anti-
phaans sejam ditos. (j) Depoys dos qwaaes. digam
ohymno dessa meesma hora 2 o capitulo. 2 o verso 2
okyrieleyson 2 a beengon. 2 assy sejam enuiadas

CAP. XXXVI. (Red) Do repartimento dos salmos en sete
uigilias (a) (Blue) O (Black) rdenada 2 declarada aordem
2 maneyra dos salmos dedia. todolos outros salmos
que sobejam 2 ficam. jgualmente sejam Repartidos en
sete uigilias das noutes. conuem assaber. partindo aqwelles
salmos qtie antre elles forem moores. 2 acada huma noute
assijnem 2 dem doze salmos. (b) E esto specialmente
dizemos 2 amoestamos. que se per uentura aalguuw
desprouguer aqweste repartimgnto 2 ordenagon dos
salmos. ordene os el doutra guisa se o melhor entender.
con tanto que de todo entodo essa m6esma cousa seja
oolhada. conuem assaber. que encada huwa domaa.
seja cantado todo o salteyro enteyramente. no qwal
som por conto. cento 2 cincoenta salmos. (c) E sempre
no dia do domingo aas uigilias. seja repetido de comego,
por que. seruigo demuyta priguiga. 2 de pouca deuogon
demostram os monges qiie menos do salteyro con seus
canticos acustumados rezam por spago decada huwa
somana. por que nos leemos 2 achamos nas scripturas.
que OS nossos santos padres en cada huuw dia muy
nobremente o Rezauam todo complido. (d) Oqwal.
plaze adeus. que nos outros tibos 2 priguigosos acabemos
por toda asomana

CAP. XXXVII. (Red) Como 2 enqwemaneyra deuew os monges
leer 2 cantar 2 rezar. (a) N (Black) os creemos que
aprgsenga de dews, he entodo logar. 2 que os olhos do
nosso senhor deus. en todo logar esguardaw 2
(XV Ro.)

ueem os booms 2 os maaos. 2 moormente esto creamos
sen duuida nehuwza. qtie he qwando nos stamos aa obra
do senhor rezando 2 cantawdo. (b) E por. tanto sempre
sejamos nembrados. daqwgllo que diz opropheta. Seruide
ao senhor entemor. (c) Ediz ajnda. Cantade cordamewte
2 sagesmente. (d) E enna presenga dos anjos cantarey
aty. (e) Poys consijremos ben. como nos conuen 2
pgrteece de estar na presenga de deus 2 dos anjos. 2 assi
stemos acantar 2 a Rezar que anossa mente 2 pro-
fundeza 2 agudeza do nosso entendimewto concorde con
anossa uoz.

CAP. XXXVIII. (Red) De como deuemos orar cowmuyta
reuerenga. 2 humildade

(a) (Blue) S (Black) e con os homeems poderosos 2 grandes
senhores queremos falar. alguwas cousas. non ousamos
new presumimos de Ihes falar. saluar cow muyta humil-
dade 2 reuerenga. qwanto mays, adeus senhor. de todalas
cousas deuemos de supplicar 2 rogar con toda humildade
de dentro o de fora. 2 con deuogon pura 2 limpa. (b) E
non en muyta palaura. mas enpureza. 2 limpeza
decoragow. 2 en compuwgon 2 pungimewto de lagrimas.
sejamos certos que seremos ouuidos ante deus. (c)
E por tanto breue 2 pequena 2 pura deue de seer aoragow.
saluo pel/a uewtura. se con desejo 2 deleytamewto de
spiragow da graga de deus. alguuw aperlongar: (d)
Pero en conuento detodo entodo. a oragow seja breue 2
pequena. 2 como opnor iezer o sinal. todos se aleuantem
da oragon.

CAP. XXXIX. (Red) Dos dayaawes 2 curadores 2 meestres
dos da congregagoM do mosteyro:.. (a) S (Blue) e
acogregagon for grande sejam enligidos 2 escolheytos.
alguums frayres de boom testimunho 2 de santa con-
uersagon 2 deboa uida. 2 fagam nos dayaawes 2 meestres
2 pnores doutros. que hajam 2 tenham. so sua cura.
dez. dez. monges. ou mays, (b) Os quaaes dayaanes

xxxix 2 meestres 2 priores hajam gran cuidado sobre as suas
decanias 2 curas entodalas cousas. segundo os preceptos
2 mandamewtos de deus. 2 segundo os mandamewtos de
seu abbade. (c) E taaes dayaawes sejam enligidos 2
escolheytos. con os qwaaes oabbade seguramewte parta
seus encarregos. (d) E now sejam enligidos por ordem
dos graaos mas segundo o mgrecimgwto dasua uida 2
segundo adoutrina 2 ensinanga da sua sabedoria. (e)
E se alguum delles
(XV Vo.)

depoys per uentz^ra. jnflado 2 aleuantado por alguwa
soberua. for. achado reprehensiuil. seja castigado por
huwa uez 2 duas 2 tres. (f) E se se now quiser emendar
seja tirado 2 alangado fora dessa cura. 2 encarrego. 2
outro qtie seja digno 2 merecedor. soceda 2 seja posto en
seu logo, (g) Estas medeses cousas stabelecemos 2 orde-
namos do preposto 2 prior moor da congregagon.

CAP. XL. (Red) Como deuem de dormir os monges.

(a) (Blue) C (Black) ada huuw monge dorma en seu leyto.

(b) Os leytos 2 os logares enque houuerem de dormir
OS monges. receban nos 2 sejam Ihes dados segundo
omodo 2 qwalidade da conusrsagow 2 uida de cada huum.
assi como Ihes oseu abbade ordenar 2 mandar. (c)
E se se pode fazer. todos dormam en huma casa. pero
seforem tantos que now possam todos dormir enhuuw
dormitorio. estonce dormam en outros logares. dez 2
dez. ou vijnte 2 vijte con uelhos 2 anciaawos booms.
que sobre elles sejam solicitos 2. discretos 2 perfeytos
peraos uigiar. (d) En essa cella 2 casa hu dormirem.
seja sempre candea accesa 2 arga des anoute ataa ma-
nhaaw. (e) Uestidos dormam 2 cintos cow cintas ou
cow cordas peqwenas 2 delgadas 2 now tenham os cutellos
cow sigo nas cintas qwando dormirem. nem peruentura.
endormindo se feyram. (f) E per tal que os monges sempre
sejam aprestes. como tangerem osigno leuantemse logo
sen detardanga. 2 trabalhem se cada huuwzs. quem mays
asinha poder. pera. vijwr aa obra de deus. pero esto con
toda graueza. 2 peso. 2 temperanga. (g) Os frayres mays
mancebos. now tenham os leytos juntos, huums cow
OS outros. (marginal additoin by a diff. hand: mas)
mesturados cow os uelhos 2 anciaawos. 2 q«ando se

CAP. XL leuantarem perka obra dedeus. honestamgwte 2 tempe-
radamewte se espertem huums os outros. por tal que
nehuuw now se escuse por somno.

CAP. XLI. (Red) Como 2 quando se deue poer a escomu-nhon
2 por quaaes culpas.

(a) S (Black) e alguuw frayre. for achado reuel. 2 con-
tumaz. 2 porfioso. ou desobediente ou soberuoso. ou
murmurador. ou en alguma cousa contrayro aa santa
regla. 2 desprezador. dos mandamentos dos sens anci-
aawos. (b) Este tal seja amoestado de sens anciaawos en
segredo. segundo oprecepto 2 mandado de nosso senhor.
(XVI Ro.)

ihesu chrisfo ataa duas uezes. (c) E se ,se now emendar.
seja reprehendido publicamewte perdante todos. (d) E
se per esta guisa. ajnda now se qwiser correger. 2 emendar.
2 for tal que conhega 2 entenda que cousa. he apena.
(da, add. marg.) scomunhon. escomunguem no. (e)
Mas se ajnda assy for maao 2 duro ponham no aa
uinganga corporal. 2 seja castigado no corpo con feridas.

CAP. XLI I. (Red) Qual deue desseer omodo da escomunhon.
(a) S (Black) egundo que foR (Red corr. : o modo) 2
qualidade. 2 qwantidade da culpa 2 do peccado. assy
deue de seer estendida 2 dada amensura 2 qwantidade
da escomunhon. ou da disciplina corporal, (b) Oqwal

modo 2 maneyra da ( — ) qwantidade das

culpas penda. 2 ste en juyzo 2 aluidro do abbade. (c)
Pero se alguum frayre for achado nas mays leues 2 mays
lygeyras culpas conuen assaber. naqwellas que oabbade
iulgar. segundo seu juyzo por mays leues. este tal seja
pnuado 2 apartado. do participamewto da mesa, que
now coma cow os outros. (d) E esta sero a Razon 2
causa razoauil daqtiel que for priuado 2 apartado da
companhia dameza. conuew assaber. que el na egreja now
aleuante salmo nem antiphaaw. nem diga ligon. ataa
que satisfaga 2 acabe sua penitewcia. (e) E depoys que
OS frayres comerem coma el s66. Verbi gracia. qtie se
OS frayres comerem hora de sexta. coma aquel frayre hora
de noa. (f) E se os frayres comerem hora de noa.
coma el depoys de uespgra. ataa que por satisfagon. 2
penitencia conuinhauil .seja perdoado.

CAP. XLIII. (Red) Das graues culpas.

(a) (Blue) A (Black) quel frayre que for achado en alguuw
peccado. de graue culpa, seja sospenso 2 apartado. da
mesa 2 do oratorio, (b) Nehuuw dos frayres now se
achegue ael. enhuwa maneyra de companhia new enfala.
s66 seja aa obra que Ihe mandarem fazer. stando 2
perseuerando en lutu 2 choro depenitewcia. pensando
en seu coragow 2 sabendo aqwella muy spantosa sentengi
do apostolo que diz.: (c) Dado he este homem a sa-
thanas por qwebrantamento da carne. por tal que oseu
spiritu seja saluo no dia do nosso senhor ihesu christo.
(d) S66 coma .amensura 2 qwantidade do comer do seu
mantijmento. 2 a hora aque houuer de comer seja en
aluidro 2 ju —
(XVI Vo.)

yz (o, supra) 2. discricon do abbade como el melhor
entender 2 vir que Ihe cowple. (e) Nehuuw now
obeewza. quer dizer. now Ihe diga benedicite nem Ihe
jncline. qz^ando passar porhu el steuer. nen Ihe fale.
nem ihe beenza oque Ihe derem peracomer.

CAP. XLIV. (Red) Daqwelles que se ajuntam a conuersar. 2
a falar. con os. escomungados sen mandado.
(Blue) S (Black) e alguum frayre presumir 2 ousar de
-se achegar ao frayre escomungado per qualq^^gr maneyra
que seja. ou falar con el ou Ihe enuiar por outrem
alguuw mandado. sen lecenga de seu abbade. seja es-
comungado semelhauilmente como el.

CAP. XLV. (Red) Como 2 en que maneyra o abbade deue seer
solicito 2 studioso sobre os frayres escomungados.
(a) O (Black) abbade haja cura 2 cuydado cow todo
studo 2 diligencia sobre os frayres que peccarem. ca os
saawos now ham mester fisico. mas os doentes 2 eniermos
2 OS que se sentem mal. (b) E porende oabbade deue
deusar de todolos modos 2 maneyras. assi como sabedor
fisico conuen assaber. deue enviar. frayres anciaawos
2 sabedores 2 consoladores assi como caladamewte 2
ascondidamente. (c) Os quaaes assi como segredamewte.
ben como que now ueew ael daparte doabbade. mas
desy medeses. consolem aqueWe frayre abalado 2 afflito
2 anojado. 2 enduzam no 2 mouam no. a satisfagon

XLV dehumildade. 2 cowsolem no. nem per uentura seja
derribado 2 qwebrantado por mayoR tristeza. mas assi
como (diz with caret) esse meesmo. apostolo. (d) Seja
confirmada en el caridade. 2 todos orem 2 roguem adetis
por el. Con grande studo 2 diligewcia deue oabbade hauer
cuydado. 2 con toda arteyrice 2 engenho 2 sabedoria 2
prouidencia curar 2 trabalhar, que now perca nehuma
das ouelhas que Ihe foron cometidas. (e) Conhega 2
saba ben que recebeo cura 2 cuydado de almas enfermas.
2 now de usar crualdade 2 aspereza. desenhorio sobre as
saaws. (f) E tema o ameagamewto do propheta. porlo
qua\ diz deus os pastores. (g) Aqwdlo que uos viades grosso
2 boom, tomauades. 2 aqz^dlo que era fraco 2 enfermo
engeytauades 2 alangauades deuos 2 desemparauades
(h) Mas siga oabbade 2 tome oexemplo depiedade de-
boom pastor, que leixou nos montes nouuewta 2 noue
ouelhas. 2 foy buscar 2 reqwerer. huma ouelha que errara
2 pe/'dera se das outras, (i) Ak jnfe^'midade da qual
tanta door 2 compuxon houue que teue por ben de
apoer nos sens santos ombros

(Catchword) 2 assy
(XVII Ro.)
2 assy a trouue aagrey 2 companhia das outras.

CAP. XLVI. (Red) Daqz^dles que amehude forem castigados
2 now se quiserem emendar.

(a) S (Black) e alguum frayre por muytas uezes for
castigado. por qualqwer culpa que seja. 2 se outro sy.
ja foy scomungado por ello. 2 now se quiser emendar.
fagam el correeygow mays forte 2 mays aspera. conuew
assaber. castiguem no cow feridas de agoutes. (b) E
se assy now se correger ajnda nem emendar. ou pella
uentura o que deus now mande sealeuantar en soberua
2 quiser ajnda defender as suas maas obras. estonce
oabbade faga aqz/ello que faz ohooni 2 sages fisico (c)
Conuem assabe?' se ja Ihe fez 2 mostrou criamgwtos 2
castigos cow piedade 2 mansidoowe. se unguentos de
amoestagoowes dolces. se meezinhas 2 exemplos das
santas scripturas. se depoys desto todo. qz/eymamewto
de escomunhon. ou chagas 2 feridas deuaras. (d) E se
uir que ja Ihe now ual nem aproueyta cousa nehuma. a
sua jndustria 2 sabedoria. estonce ajunte ajnda 2 en-

XLvi nhada aqueWo que he melhor 2 mayor, scilicet asua oragon
2 a detodolos outros frayres por elle. que o senhor deus que
todalas cousas pode (azer. obre 2 de saude aaqwal frayre
enfermo. (e) E se por esta maneyra ajnda non for saawo.
nem se quiser emendar. (f) Enton oabbade use de ferro
que corte 2 talhe tal monge do mosteyro langandoo fora
del. assy como diz o apostolo. : (g) Deytade omaao fora
de uos. (h) E diz ajnda mays. O maao. se departe.
departa 2 vaa se. new peruentura huma ouelha enierma
2 guja 2 chea depeccado. tanga 2 engugente toda a
outra companha.;

CAP. XLVII. (Red) Se deuem seer recebidos outra uez. os
frayres que se sairem ou fugirem domosteyro.
(a) (Blue) O (Black) frayre que por lo seu proprio uicio
2 peccado 2 por sua culpa, se saae ou O lan^am fora do
mosteyro. se depoys se quiser tornar perao mosteyro,
prometa primeyramewte toda emendagon do peccado
2 uicio por lo qual se sayo. 2 assy seja recebido no ultimo
graao postumeyro detodos. por tal que por esto seja
conhecida 2 prouada asua humildade. (b) E se desy
adeante outra uez se sayr. ataa tres uezes per esta guisa
seja recebido. (c) Mas seja certo que ja depoys se ueer.
que o non leixaraia entrar new o Receberam no mosteyro.

CAP. XLVIII. (Red) Dos mogos de meor ydade como os
deuew castigar.
(XVII Vo.)

(a) (Blue) T (Black) oda ydade. 2 todo entendimewto
deue hauer proprias mensuras 2 modos 2 qwantidades se-
gundo mays ou menos. (b) E por tanto por qwantas
uezes OS mogos peq^^enos 2 os mays mancebos por
ydade. 2 aquelles que menos podem entender 2 conhecer
camanha he apena da escomunhon. estes taaes qz^ando
peccarem. con grandes jeiuuws sejam afflitos 2 ator-
mewtados. ou con agoutes agres 2 fortes sejam refreados
2 constrangidos 2 castigados. por tal que se corregam 2
emendem. 2 recebam saude nas almas.

CAP. XLIX. (Red) Do cellareyro do mosteyro de que condigon
deue de seer.

(a) O (Black) Cellareyro domosteyro seja eligido 2
tomado dos da congregagon. oq«al seja sabedor de-

XLix sabeduria. spiritual. 2 de boows 2 saanos custumes. deue
de seer no falar 2 no obrar sobrio 2 mesurado 2 temperado.
now seeR muyto comedor 2 garganton. now soberuoso.
now turbulento 2 escuro do uultu. 2 tornado, cow ira 2
cow sanha. que torue os outros. now jnjurioso que jnjurie
2 doeste os outros. now tardinheyro 2 pnguigoso 2 de-
leixado. now degustador. mas homem que tema detis.
oqwal seja atoda acongregagon assi como padre, (b) Haja
cura 2 cuydado de todalas cousas. (c) Non faga cousa
nehuma sen mandado do abbade. (d) Aqwdlas cousas
que Ihe mandarem gwardar. essas gwarde. (e) Os frayres
now contriste nem anoge. (g) Se alguuw frayre Ihe
pedir alguma cousa como now deue. now no contriste des-
prezand66 mas cow boa razon 2 cow humildade se escuse
del 2 Ihe negue acousa que pede mal 2 como non deue.
(h) Guarde a sua alma, nembrando se sempre. daqz^ello
que o apostolo diz. conuem assaher. (i) Aquel que ben
ministrar. gaangara pera sy. boom graao 2 boow logar
ante deus. (j) Haja cura 2 cuydado cow todo studo 2 dili-
gewcia. dos enfermos. 2 dos meninos. 2 dos hospedes 2
dos proues. sabendo sen duuida nehuma que de todas
estas cousas. ha dedar conto 2 razow no dia do juyzo.
(k) Todolos uasos 2 alfayas no mosteyro. esguarde 2 oolhe.
2 toda aoutra sustancia. assi como se fossem uasos sa-
grados do altar. (1) Now ponha nehuwa cousa en
neglegencia. nen stude nem cuyde en amareza. new
seja degastador 2 maao despendedor
(XVIII Ro.)

nem destruydor da sustancia do mosteyro. mas todalas
cousas faga mesuradamewte 2 cow descrigow. 2 como Ihe
mandar oabbade. (m) Ante todalas cousas que en el
houuer. haja humildade. (n) Eq7<ando now teuer a
sustancia 2 cousa que de aaqzml que Iha pede. de Ihe
boa pallaura 2 boa resposta. assi como hescripto. (o)
Aboa palaura he sobre omuy boom dado.', (p) Todalas
aqwellas cousas que Ihe oabbade encomendar. essas
haja so sua cura. (q) Edaqwellas que Ihe defender now
presuma. now ouse de se entermeter dellas. (r) De 2
presente aos frayres a Razon do seu mantijmfwto que
Ihes he stabelecida 2 ordenada. sen detardanga 2 sen
reierta 2 sen outra figura nehuwza. por tal que se now
scandalizem nem anogem. nembrando se da palaura

XLix qw6 disse nosso senhor ihe^u chmto. conuew assaber.
(s) Que merece aquel que scandalizar huuw dos mens
mays peq^^enos. (t) Merece 2 cowuen que Ihe leguem 2
dependurem ao collo huma moo asinaria. 2 que o langem
2 amergam na profundeza 2 peego do mar. (u) Se a con-
gregagon for grande dem Ihe parceyros que o ajudem.
por tal que el cow boom coragow 2 con boa voowtade
2 alegre compla 2 faga complidamente o oficici que Ihe
he cometido : (v) Nas horas conuinhauijs 2 que perteece.
sejam dadas aqwdlas cousas que se houuerem dedar. 2
pegam aqz^ellas que se houuerem depedir. por tal que
nehuuw. now seja toruado nem contristado na casa de
dews.

CAP. L. (Red) Das ferramentas 2 das outras cousas do mosteyro
(a) (Blue) N (Black) a sustancia do mosteyro. cowuem
assaber. nas ferramentas 2 nas uestiduras 2 en outras
cousas quaaes quer que sejam. proueja o Abbade 2
ponha taaes frayres. da uida 2 custumes dos qz^aaes elle
seja ben seguro. 2 assijne acada huwn aqt^dlas cousas
que houuer deguardar. 2 recolher 2 appanhar 2 ministrar
assi como el iulgar 2 entender que he melhor 2 mays pro-
ueyto. (b) Das qwaaes cousas oabbade tenha huuw
memorial 2 scripto. pera. saber oqiie da 2 oque recebe
qwando os frayres entram 2 saaew 2 socedem os officios
a Reuezes. (c) E se alguuw trautar as cousas do
mosteyro. mal 2 gujamewte 2 con negligencia. seja cas-
tigado. (d) E se. se now emendar. seja sometido 2
posto aa disciplina da regla.

CAP. LI. (Red) Sedeuem os monges teer ou hauer alguma
cousa propria.

(a) A (Black) nte todalas cousas specialmewte. aqueste
uicio 2 peccado de Rayz se-
(XVIII Vo.)

ja tirado 2 talhado do mosteiro. que nehuuw non
presuma new house, dedar new receber cousa nehuwa
sen lecenga 2 sen mandado do abbade. (b) Nen hauer
cousa nehuwa propria. 2 detodo entodo nehuwa causa,
scilicet, nem liuro new tauoas new stilo. mas nehuwa
cousa detodo entodo (c) Aos qwaaes monges certamente
now conuew ajnda. new Ihes perteece hauer en seu

CAP. LI p^^pj-io poderio. osseiis corpos new as suas uoowtades.

(d) Mas todalas cousas necessarias deuem sperar 2
receber do padre do mosteyro. new Ihes conuenha hauer
cousa nehuwa que Ihes oabbade now der ou leixar teer
por sua lecenga. (e) E todalas cousas sejam com-
muuwas 2 geeraaes atodos assy como he scnpto. 2 ne-
huuw now presuma new ouse dedizer new chamar
alguwa cousa sua. (f) E se alguuw for achado que
se deleyta en este muy maao peccado de hauer 2 teer. 2
receber proprio 2 de appropriar assy meesmo alguwa
cousa dizendo que Ihe he sua. este tal seja amoestado
huwa uez 2 duas. (g) E se se. now emendar. seja posto
aa correeygow 2 castiguem no.

CAP. LII. (Red) Se deuem os monges receber todos jgualmente
as cousas necessarias:

(a) (Blue) A (Black) ssy como he scnpto nos autos dos
apostolos. (b) Era partido 2 dado acada huuw. porla
guisa qtie Ihe complia 2 fazia mester. (c) Hu now dizemos
que haja hy recebimfwto 2 stremamewto depgrsoas.
oque deus now mande. mas haja hy cowsijragon das
enfirmedades 2 das fraqwezas. (d) E aqMel que mays
pouco houuer mester. de gragias adews 2 now se con-
triste new tome nojo. por darem mays aoutro que ael.

(e) Eaqwel que mays houuer mester. humilde sepor lasua
jnfirmidade. 2 now se exalce new ensoberuega por la
misericordia que Ihe fazem. 2 assy todolos membros
seram enpaz. (f) Ante todalas cousas. non apparega
no monge omal 2 opeccado da murmuragon por causa
nehuwa que seja. new por palaura nehuwa qwalq^er
que possa seer dita. nem por sinificagon nehuwa. (b)
E se alguuwz for achado en mal 2 peccado de murmuro.
seja castigado 2 posto aa mays streyta disciplina.

CAP. LIII. (Red) Dos domaayros da cozinha;

(a) O (Black) s frayres assi se seruam. huuws os outros
(spatium) que nehuuw now seja scusado do officio da
cozinha. saluo a.quel que for enfermo. ou aquel que for
occupado. en alguwa cousa 2 razon de
(XIX Ro.)

gran proueyto domosteyro. por qtie por ello. scilicet
por fim (7 litt. legi non potuerunt) gaangara 2 hauera o

Liif monge moor mercee. (b) Aos fracos sejam Ihes pro-
curados 2 dados parceyros que os ajudem. por tal
qtie aqwello que fezerem now ofagam con tristeza. mas
todos hajam solazes 2 companheyros. segundo omodo
2 amaneyra da congrggagon. 2 segundo o asseetam^wto
2 disposigow do logar. (c) Se a congregagon. for
grande. o cellareyro seja scusado da cozinha. 2 aqwdles
que forem occupados en mayores proueytos assi como
ja dissemos. (d) Mas todolos outros se seruam en-
caridade huuws os outros. (e) Aquel que sayr dasomana.
ao sabbado faga muwdicias 2 limpezas. 2. Laue os tre-
sorios 2 panos con que os frayres alimpam as maawos
2 os pees, (f) E tarn ben esse que saae. como aquel que
entra por domaayro. lauem os pees a todos. (g) Os
uasos do seu ministerio 2 seruicio cow que sermo saawos
2 limpos OS entregue (ras 2 litt.) 2 de (ras. 2 litt.) assijna-
damente porconto ao cellareyro. (h) O qual ce\lareyro.
as de assijnadamewte. 2 por conto ao domayro. que
entra. pera saber aqwello que da 2 aqwello que recebe.
(i) Os domaayros. ante huwa hora da refeeygon. conuew
assaber. enaqw^lla huwa hora ante qiie os frayres comam.
sobre a sua ragon stabelecida. tomem do pan 2 comam.
2 beuam senhas uezes. por tal que aa hora da refeeygon
seruam a seus irmaanos sen murmuro 2 sen graue trabalho.
(j) Mas pero en nos dias solennes sostenham se ataa de-
poys das missas. os domayros que entrarem 2 os que
sayrem. no dia do domingo. no oratorio logo como aca-
barem os laudes. uoluam se jnclinawdo aos pees detodos.
2 pegam que Roguem adeus por elles. (k) E os qtie
sairem dasomana, digam aq^este uerso. Benedict us es
domine deus qui adiuuasti me 2 cowsolatus es me. (1)
Oqual dito por tres uezes tomem abeengon 2 sayam . se.
(m) Depoys destes. uenha. logo oque houer dentrar. 2
diga. Deus in adiutorium meum jntende: domine ad
adiuuandum me festina.'. (n) E aqwgste. esso meesmo
seja repetido detodos por tres uezes. (o) E tomada abe-
engon. entre a se/'uir.

CAP. LIV. (Red) Dos enfermos: .

(a) (Blue) A (Black) ante todalas cousas 2 sobre todas
deuem hauer cura 2 cuydado dos eniermos. por tal guisa
que assy os seruam como se seruissem

11^/ (XIX Vo.)

uerdadeyramewte a Ihe^u christo. por que el disse que
ha de dizer nodia de Juyzo. (b) Fuy enfirmo 2 doente.
2 ueestes me uisitar. (c) E aqwdlo que uos fezestes ahuuw
destes metis muy mays peqzienos. amym o fezestes.
(d) Mas 2 esses enfermos consijrem ben. que por honra. 2
amor de det^s. os seruem. 2 now contristem nem anogem
cow sua sobegidon 2 engratidon . os seus jrmaawos qtie
OS seruem. (e) Pero esses sgruidores deuem de sopportar.
2 soffrer os seus pacientes 2 os achaques 2 engratidoowes
delles cow muyta paciencia. por que de taaes gaawgaram
2 haueram ante deus moor mercee 2 galardon. sopportan-
doos. (f) E por esto muy grande cura 2 cuydado haja.
oabbade dos enfgrmos. que now padegam nehuwza
negligencia new mingua. (g) Peraos quaaes frayres
enfermos seja huma cella. assijnada 2 appartada sobre
sy. 2 huuwz seruidor que tema 2 ame deus. 2 que seja
diligente 2 solicito. seja posto en ella. (h) Aos enfermos
seja outorgado 2 dado o huso dos banhos cadauez que
OS houuerem mester, (i) Mas aos saawos 2 moormente
aos mancebos mays tarde Ihes seja outorgado. (j) O
comer das carnes seja outorgado. 2 dado aos enfermos
detodos entodo 2 fracos. poR repayramewto dos corpos.
(k) E depoys que forem melhorados 2 mays fortes .todos
se abstenham das carnes assi como ham de custume 2 de
usu. (1) O abbade haja muy grande cura 2 cuydado.
que OS enfermos now sejam desemparados dos cellareyros
o dos seruidores. que padegam por culpa delles sdgumas
minguas 2 neglegencias. por que ael perteece. oolhar. 2
correger 2 castigar 2 emewdar qualqz^er cousa en que
OS discipulos desfalecerem 2 errarem.

CAP. LV. (Red) Dos uelhos 2 dos mogos pequenos.

(a) C (Black) omo quer. q^^e essa naturaleza humanal
de sy meesma seja mouida 2 jnclinada a misericordia
2 apiedade en estas ydades conuem assaber. dos uelhos
2 dos mogos peqwenos. pero ajnda aalem desto. a autori-
dade da regla oolhe 2 esguarde en elles. (b) E seja
sempre consijrada en elles asua fraqueza. 2 en nehuwra
maneyra o appertamewto 2 estreyteza da regla now seja
teuda new aguardada aelles no comer, mas seja en elles

CAP. Lv consijra^on de piedade. 2 comam ante das horas
regulares. conuew assaber. ante
(XX Ro.)
da sexta ou da noa.

CAP. LVI. (Red) Do domayro de leer aa mesa.

(a) (Blue) A (Black) as mesas dos frayres qwando
comerem nuwca deue desfalecer ligon. (b) E nehuuw
now tome oliuro subitamewte new ouse hy de leer, saluo
se omandarem. mas aquel que houuer de leer toda
adomaa. entre aleer ao dia do domingo. (c) Oqual
domaayro qwando entrar. pega 2 demande atodos.
depoys das missas 2 depoys da comunhon. que roguem
adews por elle. que tire 2 arrede delle. ospiritu da uaaw
gloria 2 da soberua. (d) E seja dito detodos no oratorio
por tres uezes. aqueste uerso. pero comegandoo elle
pnmeyro. Domine labia mea aperies : et osmeum an-
nunciabit laudem tuam. (e) E assy tomada abeegow.
entre aleer. (f) E muy grande silencio seja feyto 2 teudo
aa mesa, now seja hy ouuida musitagon nem soo feyto com-
boca. new uoz denehuuw. se now daquel s66 que leer,
(g) Aqttellas cousas que forem necessarias aaqwelles qtie
cowmerem 2 beberem. assy as presentem 2 ministrem
OS frayres huuw^s aos outros. en tal guiza que nehuuw
no haja mester depedir cousa nehuma. (h) Pero. se
alguwa cousa houuerem mester. pegam na mays porsoom
deqwalquer signal, que por uoz. (i) New ouse new
presumsL nehuuw de contar hy. new Razoar cousa
nehuwa dessa ligon new doutra por que now seja dado
aazo 2 cajon defalar. (j) Saluo pella uentura se oprior
quiser dizer alguwa cousa breuemente por edificagow.
(k) O frayre domayro do leer aa mesa, tome mixto ante
que comece aleer. por la comunhon santa. new pella
uentura Ihe seja graue cousa sopportar o Jeiuum 2 Ihe
acontega alguuwz pmgoo portoruamewto do estamago.
(1) E depoys coma. con. os domaayros 2 cow os
seruidores da cozinha. (m) Os frayres now leam por
ordem aa mesa, mas leam aqwdles qiie possam edificar
OS outros que os ouuerem.

CAP, LVI I. (Red) Da quantidade 2 mesura dos manjares
(a) C (Black) reemos. que peraa Refeeygow 2 comer
decada dia. assi da hora da sexta come da noa. en-
4 49

Lvii todolos meses auondaram dotis condoytos por las jnfenni-
dades 2 propriedades desvayradas. por tal que aquel
que pdla uentura. now poder comer duhum. coma do
outro. (b) E por esto o dizemos. que dous condoytos
auondem (bastem, s. XV) atodolos frayres (monges, s.
XV) .(c) E se
(XX Vo.)

hy houuer fruyta ou nagoowes de legumes, seja dada
aa terceyra uez Huma Viura depan por peso auonde
(baste, s. XV) porlo dia. assi no dia dehuwa refeeygon.
come dejantar 2 de cear, (d) E se houuerem de cear.
guarde o cellareyro. aterga. parte dessa liura. perak
aaqwelles que houuerem de cear. (e) E se pella uentura
houuerem. alguuw grande trabalho en aluidro 2 poderio
do abbade. sera ennhader mays 2 acrecentar alguwa
cousa se uir que comple. (f) Tirada ante todalas cousas
assobegidoowe 2 a muyta farteza. qtie nunca tome nem
haja logo enno monge omuyto enchemg/zto do estomago
que now possa esmoer. por qwe now ha cousa nehuwa que
assi seja contrayra 2 enpeciuil atodo christaaom.
como ocomer 2 oheuer sobejo. (g) Assy como disse
nosso senhor ihg5u christo. (h) Ueede 2 aguardade uos
que now sejam aggrauados os uossos coragoowes en-
sobegidoowe de comer 2 deheuer. (i) Mas aos mogos
peqwenos 2 demeor ydade. now Ihes seja aguardada
essa qwantidade que dam aos mayores. mas seja mays
peqwena que a dos mayores. guardada entodalas cousas
atemperanga. (j) Todos se abstenham de todo entodo
docomer das carnes de quatro pees, saluo aqwelles que
forem detodo entodo fracos 2 enfermos.

CAP. LVIII. (Red) Da mesura 2 da qwantidade do beber dos
monges.

(a) C (Black) adahuuw recebe 2 ha seu proprio dom
dedeus. huuwzs assy 2 outros assy desvayradamewte.

(b) E por tanto stabelecemos 2 ordenamo^ amesura 2
qwantidade do mantijmgwto docomer 2 do heuer dos
outros con alguma duuida 2 cow temor. (c) Pero 66-
Ihando 2 consijrando affraqz^eza dos enfermos. creemos
que auondara por lo dia acada huuw huma emina deuinho.
que he huma liura. 2 aliura peso de doze ongas. (d)
Aqwdles aque deus da dom 2 graga de abstinewga 2 de

CAP •

Lviir sopportamgnto. sejam certos que haueram 2 receberam
de deus. sua propria, mercee 2 gualardon porello. (e)
E se anecessidade do logar. ou o trabalho. ou o feruor
do estio 2 da caentura. mays demanda 2 houu^r mester.
seja en aluidro do prior, consfjrando entodalas cousas.
que non haja hy. nem entre so specie de necessidade.
muyta farteza. ou bebedice. (f) Pero qtce nos leemos
que o uinho de todo entodo non he dos monges. maspor
que agora nos nossos tempos
(XXI Ro.)

esto now podemos aos monges poer. envoowtade. au menos
esto Ihes consentamos. que non bebamos muyto ataa que
nos fartemos del. mas temperadamewte por que ouinho
faz apostatar 2 desviar do caminho de deus 2 dos sens
mandamewtos. now tansoomewte os simplices. mas
ajnda os sabedores. (g) Mas no logar hu anecessi-
dade del. demandar. que asobre dita mensura 2 a qwanti-
dade do uinho. now possa seer achada. mas muyto mays
pouco. ou de todo nehuwa cousa. aqwelles que hy mora-
rem beenzam 2 dem gragas 2 louuores adeus. 2 non
murmurem. (h) E esto antetodalas cousas amoestamos
2 dizemos. que os frayres sejam antresy sen murmuragon.'.

CAP. LIX. (Red) A que horas deuem a comer os monges.

(a) (Blue) D (Black) es asanta pascoa. ataa opentecoste.
OS frayres. comam depoys desexta. 2 ceem aa tarde.

(b) Mas des opentecoste portodo o estio ataa meatade
de setembro. se os monges now houuerem trabalhos
en nos agros. ou agrande caentura. do estio. os now
toruar. jeiuuwem aquarta. 2 a sexta feria ataa noa.

(c) En Todolos outros dias. jantem depoys de sexta. (d)
Aqual sexta dejantar continuem por toda adomaa se
houuerem obras 2 trabalhos en nos agros. ou o feruor
do estio for grande. 2 esto seja na prouidencia do abbade.
(e) Oqz^al assy tempore 2 ordene todalas cousas. enguisa
que as almas se saluem. 2 aqueWo que os frayres fezerem.
fagam no. sen murmuro nehuuw^. (f) Per6 dos ydos
de septembro ataa ocome^o da coreesma sempre comam
depoys de noa. (g) E na coreesma ataa pascoa. comam
depoys da uespera: (h) Pero essa uespgra assy 2 atal
hora seja dita. que os que comerem now hajam mester
lume de candea. mas todalas cousas sejam feytas 2

LDc' acabadas. con luz ajnda do dia. (i) Mas 2 entodo
tempo, assi de cear come dejantar. assy seja temperada
ahora. que todalas cousas sejam feytas cow luz de dia.

CAP. LX. (Red) Decomo nehuuw now deue falar depoys de
completa.

(a) E (Black) n todo tempo, os monges deuem de t4er
silencio. mayormewte nas horas 2 no tempo da noute.

(b) E porende entodo tempo assy de jeiuhum como de
jantar. se for tempo dejantar 2 cear. logo como se
leuantarem da cea. asseentem se todos enhuuw logar.
2 lea huuw as

(XXI Vo.)

collagoowes ou as uidas dos padres santos. ou certamente

ou/;'a cousa que possa edificar aqueUes que a ouvirem.

(c) E now leam o pentateuco. couem assaber. os cinco
liuros de moyses. nem os liuros dos Reys. por que aos
entendimgwtos enfermos 2 fracos now sera proueytoso
en aqueWa hora ouvir aqMesta scriptura. (d) Mas nas
outras horas sejam leudos. (e) E se for dia de jeiuum.
dita a uespera. 2 feyto huuwz entrguallo 2 spago peqweno.
logo se cheguew? todos aa ligow das collagoowes assi como
ja dissemos. 2 leudas qwatro ou cinco folhas. ou qwanto
ahora der uagar. todos en huum occorrendo 2 vijndo
por este spago 2 detijmento da ligon (f) Se alguum
pglla uenUira. for occupado en alguum officio assi come-
tido 2 assijnado occorra 2 uenha. (g) E todos enhuuw
ajuntados complam 2 acabem as horas de deus. (h)
E depoys que sairem da completa. now seja dada diade-
ante lecenga anehuuw? defalar cousa nehuma. (i) E
se foR. achado alguuw que brite 2 traspasse Siquesta.
regla do silencio 2 do calar. seja posto 2 sometido aa
mays graue uinganga 2 castigo. saluo se sobreueer
necessidade dehospedes que cheguarem ao mosteyro.
ou pdla uentura oabbade mandar aalguuwz fazer. alguwa
cousa. (k) Aqwal cousa empero seja feyta cow muy
grande graueza 2 peso 2 temperamento 2 muyto honesta-
mente.

CAP. LXI. (Red) Daquelles que ads horas de deus ou aamesa
do comer veerem 2 chegarem tarde: .

(a) (Blue) A (Black) ahora do officio diuino. logo, como-
os monges ouverem osigno. leixem todalas cousas

Lxi' qwaaesquer que teuerem nas maawos. 2 corram 2 vaaw
se con muy gram pressa: (b) Pero esto con graueza 2
temperanga. por tal qwe aligeyrice 2 leuidade now ache
materia nem criamento enqz^e se gouerne. (c) Epoys
qwe assy he. now seja leixada aobra de deus por cousa
nehuma que seja. (d) E se pella uentura alguuw aas
uigiHas das noutes veer depoys da gloria patri.do
nonagesimo quarto salmo. oqwal por esto todauia.
deteewdoo. qweremos que seja dito apasso. now ste en
sua ordem no choro. mas ste postumeyro 2 afundo de
todos .ou en outro lugar. qwal o abbade stabelecer. 2
assijnar. apartado a estes taaes negUgentes. por tal
guisa que seja uisto desse abbade .ou detodolos outros
fray res. ataa que a obra de deus seja acaba-
(XXII Ro.)

da. por publica satisfagon faga penitencia. (e) E por
tanto julgamo5 que aqz^dles negligentes deuem star no
postumeyro logar. ou appartados dos outros. por tal
que sejaw uistos de todos 2 siquer por essa sua uergonga
que hy padecerem. se emendem 2 castiguem. (f) Por
que se ficassem fora do oratorio, seria pella uentura.
alguuw tal que se langaria. adormir. ou certamente. se
asseewtaria fora da egreja occioso. ou britaria o sengo 2
entewderia en fabulas 2 palauras dannosas 2 sen pro-
ueyto. new seja dado cajon 2 aazo ao daboo. mas entre
dentro no coro. que non perca todo. 2 desyadeante emende
se. (g) Mas aas horas de dia .aquel que aa obra de dews,
occorrer 2 chegar depoys do uerso Deus inadiutorium
meum intende. 2 depoys dagloria do primeyro salmo.
oqual sediz depoys do uerso sobredito. ste pella ley que
acima dissemos. no postumeyro logar. nen presuma
nem ouse de se ajuntar aa companhia dos que cantam
no coro. ataa qtie satisfaga. saluo se Ihe o abbade por
seu mandado deR lecenga. assy empero que o R^eo 2
culpado satisfaga primeyro desto. (h) Aa hora da re-
feeygon 2 do comer aquel que non veeR ante do uerso
que todos ajuntadamewte digam ouerso 2 orem 2 enhuuw
todos ensembra se acheguem aa mesa. aq«el que por
sua neglegewcia ou por seu uicio 2 peccado 2 porsua culpa,
now occorer 2 chegar. seja por esto castigado ataa duas
uezes. (i) E se desyadeante. se now emendar now no
leixem participar nem seer aa mesa cowmuwha detodos.

*Lxi' mas appartado da companhia de todos. coma s66. 2 tolham
Ihe a sua Ragom do uinho. ataa que satifsaga 2 se emende.
(k) Semelhauilmewte padega. aquel que now for presente.
akquel uerso que se diz depoys que comem. (1) E ne-
huum no presuma nem ouse detomar cousa nehuma
decomer nem debeber ante da hora new depoys dahora
stabelecida. (m) E se oprior der ou enviaR alguma
cousa. aalguuw 2 el a now quiser tomar. aaqwella hora
que quiser 2 desejar aq^dlo que primeyramewte now
quis tomar. ou outra cousa semelhauil. detodo entodo
now Iha dem. ataa que se conhega 2 satisfaga 2 faga
penitencia 2 emenda conuinhauil.

CAP. LXII. (Red) Daquelles qtie som escomungados 2 appar-
tados como ham de satisfazer 2 acaber sua peedenga.
(XXII Vo.)

(a) Aquel que por graues culpas for scomungado 2
appartado do oratorio 2 da mesa, en aqwella hora
que acabarem aobra de detis no oratorio, deyte se 2
jaga strado ante as portas do oratorio now dizendo
cousa nehuwa. se now tansoomewte. cow acabega posta
entgrra jaga derribado 2 jnclinado aos pees de todos os
que sairem do oratorio, (b) E aqwesto faga portanto
tempo atee que Oabbade julgue 2 diga que ja he satis-
feyto. (c) Eqwando oabbade. omandar que uenha.
deyte se ante os pees desse abbade. 2 depoys aos pees
detodos que orem 2 roguem adeus por elle. (d) E es-
tonce se oabbade mandar. seja recebido no coro. ou en
naordem 2 grako que oabbade stabelecer 2 ordenaR.
(e) En esta manayra saamente. que el non presuma new
ouse deleuantar salmo nem antiphaaw new dizer ligow.
new outra cousa nehuwa. no oratorio, saluo se Ihe oab-
bade (spatium) encowmendar ou mandar. (f) E atodalas
horas qwando complirem 2 acabarew aobra de dews deyte
se ente?'ra no logar hu steuer 2 assy satisfaga. ataa
que Ihe o abbade mande. que cesse 2 quede ja desta satis-
fagow 2 peewdenga. (g) Mas aqwelles que por lygeyras
culpas som scomungados 2 apartados tansoo(w)mente
da mesa, satisfagaw na egreja atee que Oabbade mande.
(h) E aqwesto fagam sempre. ataa que oabbade beenza
2 diga assaz he

CAP. LXIII. (Red) Daquelles que fallecem 2 som enganados
na egreja. no que ham de dizer.

(a) (Blue) S (Black) e alguuw frayre qwando pronuncia
2 diz. salmo ou response, ou antiphaaw. ou ligon. erra 2
desfalece. se logo hy por satisfagaw se non humildar 2
abaixar perdante todos. seja sometido 2 posto amayor
pena 2 uinganga. por que certamente. non quis por
humildade correger 2 emendar. aq^dlo enque pecou
2 desfaleceo porsua neglegencia. (b) Mas os moQos
peqMenos. por tal culpa 2 neglegencia como. esta. sejam
agoutados posto que satisfagam. se oseu mayor vir que
omerecem.

CAP. LXIV. (Red) Daquelles que en algumas cousas peccam
2 desfalecem. hu (onde. s. XV) quer.
(a) S (Black) e alguum qzmndo trabalha en qualqwer
lauor. na cozinha. no cellareyro. no forno. no ministerio 2
seruigo. na orta. en alguma arte ou enqwalqwer logar.
alguma cousa peccar 2 auessar. ou qwebrar qua[quer que
seja. ou peder. ou en alguwa cousa sobrepojar 2 des-
falecer. hu (onde, s. XV) quer que seja.
(XXIII Ro.)

2 now veer logo aa hora que deuer ante o abbade ou ante
a congregagon. el de sua propria voowtade satisfazer
2 dizer sua culpa. 2 demostrar. o seu peccado. qwando
esto por outrem for sabudo 2 conhecido. seja sometido
2 posto amayor emendagon 2 penitewcia. (b) Mas
pero se for alguwa cousa ascondida 2 encuberta depec-
cado da alma, demostre a. tansoomente a seu abbade
ou aos anciaawos spirituaaes 2 cowfessores. que sabam
curar 2 saar as suas chagas. 2 as alheas now descobrir
nem publicar.

CAP. LXV. (Red) Do tanger 2 fazer sinal aahora da obra de
deus:

(a) (Blue) P (Black) erk tanger 2 demostrar. ahora da
obra de deus seja esta cura. cuydado do abbade. de
dia 2 de noute. que ou el atanga 2 demostre. ou de 2
encomende aqz^esta cura 2 encarrego atal frayre. que
seja solicito 2 diligente 2 ben aguigoso pera. esto fazer.
en guiza que todalas cousas sejam feytas 2 complidas a
seus tempos 2 horas conuinhauijs. (b) Mas os salmos

LxV 2 as antiphaaws depoys do abbade por sua ordem leuan-
tem aq«dles a.que for encomendado. (c) E nehuum now
presuma. new ouse decantar new deleer. saluo aquel
que esse officio pode ben complir. ental guisa que sejaw
edificados 2 contentes aqwdles que o ovuirem. (d)
Aqua! cousa faga con humildade 2 graueza deuotamewte
2 con temor, aquei aque o abbade encomendar.

CAP. LXVI. (Red) Da obra das maawos decada dia por todo
o anno.

(a) A (Black) ociosidade 2 folga corporal, jmijga he
daalma. (b) Epor tanto en certos tempos se deuem
OS frayres ocupar 2 trabalhar. en Ikuor demaawos. 2
en certas horas condecabo na ligon santa. (c) E pera.
esto creemos que poraqwesta disposigon 2 maneyra.
seram ambos estes tempos ben partidos 2 ordenados.
conuem assaber que desapascoa ataa as calendas de
outobro. como os frayres sairem pella manhaaw da
prima, trabalhem 2 obrem en a.que\\o que Ihes for ne-
cessario. atees ahora acerca de quarta. (d) E des ahora
quarta ataa ahora acerca de sexta entendam 2 sejam
aaligow. (e) E depoys da sexta como se leuantarew
decomer. pousem se 2 deytem se en seus leytos cow
todo silencio. ou pglla uentura aquel que quiser leer,
ental guisa lea assy meesmo. que now jnqzaete nem
anoge outrem. (f) E anoa seja dita mays cedo
(XXIII Vo.)

conuew assaber. ahora outaua. meante. 2 condecabo
obrem 2 trabalhem en aqueWo que for pera iazer. atees
auesp£'ra. (g) Ese anecessidade do logar ou aproueza
demandar que os frayres por sy vaawo 2 appanhar os
paaes. now se contristem nem tomem nojo. porqz^e
estonce seram uerdadeyramewte monges. se uiuerem
portrabalho de suas maawos. assy como uiueron os nossos
santos padres antigos 2 os apostolos. (h) Pero. todalas
cousas sejam feytas mesuradamewte 2 cow discregow
por Razow dos fracos.

CAP. LXVII. (Red) 'Enque ham detrabalhar os mowges des
as calewdas de outobro.

(a) (Blue) D (Black) as calendas de outobro ataa
ocomego da coreesma. dela manhaaw atees asegunda

Lxvii hora do dia complida. entendam 2 sejam os monges
en ligon. (b) E acabada asegunda hora. digam a terga.
2 depoys ataa hora denoa. todos trabalhem en na sua
obra que Ihes for encomendada (c) E como fezerem
oprimeyro sinal dahora da noa. parta se cadahuum
doseu lauor 2 da sua obra. 2 sejam aprestes 2 apare-
Ihados. persL qwando tanger osegundo sino. (d) Depoys
que comerem entendam 2 sejam a suas ligoowes ou
asalmos. leendo. ou meditando 2 pensando.

CAP. LXVIII. (Red) Da coreesma.

(a) N (Black) os dias da coreesma de la manhaaw atees
ahora deterga complida. entendam os monges 2 sejam
en ligon. (b) E depoys ataa decima hora dodia acabada.
obrem 2 fagam aqueWo que Ihes for mandado. (c)
Nos qwaaes dias da coreesma. todos tomew senhos liuros
da libraria. os q«aaes leam enteyramgwte. por ordem.

(d) Os qwaaes liuros sedeuem adar no comedo da careesma.

(e) Ante todalas cousas saamente seja stabelecido 2
assijnado huum anciaawo ou dous. que cerquem 2 andem
o mosteyro. aaqz^ellas horas que os frayres seem enligon.
2 vejam 2 oolhem. nem pella uentura achem alguuw
frayre ocioso que uague en ociosidade ou en falas. 2
now he atento aa ligon. 2 now tansoomewte assimeesmo
he danoso 2 sen proueyto. mas ajnda estorua 2 leuanta
OS outros 2 dalhes cajom 2 ousio que se leuantew da
ligon. (f) Aqz^este tal oque deus now mande. se for
achado. se-

(XXIV) Ro.)

ja castigado aprimeyra 2 a segunda uez. (g) Ese. se
now emendar. seja posto ia correeygon da regla 2 casti-
guem no. por tal guisa que todolos outros hajam medo.
(h) Nehuuwz frayre now se ajunte aoutrew frayre en
nas horas 2 tempos que now conueem. (i) No dia do
domingo todos sejam en ligon. afora aqwdles que en-
devayrados officios som postos 2 assijnados 2 stabeleci-
dos. (k) Ese alguuwz for assi negligente 2 pnguigoso.
que now queyra ou now possa meditar 2 pensar alguuw
ben. nem leer, seja Ihe encomendada tal obra. que faga.
por tal que now uague nem seja ocioso. (1) Aos frayres
enfermos 2 aos delicados 2 de fraca comprg-ysson. tal
obra ou arte Ihes seja encomewdada que nem sejam ocio-

Lxvi'ii SOS. nem pglla forga 2 qwebranto do trabalho. sejaw
assy appremados que fugam 2 se arredem do ben iazer.
(m) A fraqweza dos quaaes o abbade adeue deconsijrar.

CAP. LXIX. (Red) Da obseruanga 2 guarda da coreesma:.

(a) (Blue) E (Black) como quer qtie entodo tempo auida
do monge deue hauer guarda de coreesma. (b) Pero
porqwe esta uirtude he de poucos. porem. amoestamos
2 rogamos. que en estes dias da coreesma. omonge guarde
sua uida cow toda pureza 2 limpeza. conuew assaber.
que todalas negligencias 2 folhas 2 mjwguas dosoutros
tempos, ajuntadamg-wte. en estes santos dias destrua 2
emende. (c) Aqual causa sera estonce dignamgwte
feyta se nos temperarmos 2 nos arredarmos 2 qwitarmos
detodos uicios 2 peccados. 2 nos dermos aa oragow cow
choros. 2 aa ligon 2 aa compungon 2 suspiros do coragow.
2 fezermos abstinewcia do comer 2 do beber. (d) Poys
pera. esto. en estes dias. acrecentemos anos. mays alguwa
cousa. sobre apenson 2 qwantidade donosso seruigo.
que soemos a fazer. conuew assaber. oragoowes apparta-
das 2 speciaaes. 2 abstinewcia do comer 2 do beber.
(e) E cada huuni aalem daqwdla mensura 2 qwantidade
que Ihe he encommendada. offerega alguwza cousa adeus
desua propria uoowtade cow goyuo 2 plazer do spirito
santo. conuem assaber. tire ao seu corpo do comer, do
beber. do dormir. do falar. das ligeyrices. 2 dos jogos
2 dossca rnhos. 2 cow goyup 2 plazer de desejo spiritual,
aguarde 2 attenda. a
(XXIV Vo.)

santa pascoa. (f) Pero aqueWo meesmo que cadahuuw
offerecer. pnmeyramewte ofaga saber a seu abbade.
2 cow aoragon 2 uoowtade del. seja feyto. por que aq/^dlo
que se faz sen mandado 2 sen lecenga do padre spiritual.
sera cowtado 2 hauudo por presumpgon 2 vaaw gloria. 2
now mercee. (g) Poys todalas cousas deuem seer feytas
con avoowtade do abbade.

CAP. LXX. (Red) Dos frayres que andam en lauor longe do
oratorio, ou som en caminho. enviados.
(a) O (Black) s frayres que de todo entodo som longe
domosteyro enlauor 2 entrabalho. 2 now podem vijnr
ao oratorio Rezar. atempo 2 hora que comple 2 oabbade

Lxx sabe 2 entende que assy he. fagam 2 rezem aobra de deus
en esse logo hu trabalham 2 obram. con tremor diuino.
ficando os genolhos enterra. (b) Semelhauelmente
fagam aqwelles que som enuiados encaminho. non os
traspassem as horas stabelecidas. mas assi como melhor
poderem Rezem nas. 2 now desprezem new ponham en
negligencia pagar apenson 2 debito do seruigo de deus.

CAP. LXXI. (Red) Dos frayres qtie vaawo 2 som enviados
now muy longe do mosteyro

(a) (Blue) O (Black) s frayres que por qualqwer causa 2
mandado que seja. vaawo 2 som enuiados afora do
mosteyro. 2 en esse dia speram atornar ao mosteyro.
now presumam new ousem decomer fora. ajnda que
detodo entodo os Rogue 2 conuide qualqz^er persoa.
saluo se pella uentura Ihes o seu abbade mandaR ou der
lecenga. . (b) E se doutra guisa fezerem escomunguem
nos.

CAP. LXXII. (Red) Dooratorio 2 da egreja do mosteyro.'.

(a) O (Black) oratorio, esto seja o que hedito 2 chamado.
cowuen assaber casa de oragow. 2 outra cousa nehuwa
now seja hy en ella feyta nem posta. (b) E acabada
aobra de deus. todos se sayram cow muy gran silencio.
2 fagam reuerenga adeus inclinando (s. XV. in rasura,
contra ho altar) por tal que ofrayre que pglla uentura
quer orar appartadamente enspecial. now seja em-
bargado new estoruado por maldade doutro. (c) Mas
ajnda se peruentura outro queR orar mays scgredamewte
simplizmewte entre 2 ore 2 n (s. XV, ow ew) uoz clamosa
2 de braados. mas en lagrimas 2 enteewgon decoragow.
(d) Poys por esto. oque tal obra semelhauil deoragow
now faz. now no leixem ficar no oratorio, como for
acabada aobra de deus. assi como dito he. ne pella

(Catchword, uentura.)
(XXV Ro.)

uentura o outro padega alguuw jmpedimewto 2 estoruo
ou nojo.

CAP. LXXIII. (Red) Como se ham de Receber os hospedes.".
(a) T (Black) odo los hospedes que sobreueerem ao mo-
steiro. assi como ih^5u christo sejam recebidos. por que

LSmii el no dia do juyzo hade dizer. (b) Hospede fuy 2 re-
cebestes me. (c) E atodolos hospedes seja feyta 2 dada
honra conuinhauil segundo que for pgrteecente. acada-
hunia. persosi. 2 mayormente aos domesticos 2 familiares
da nossa fe. assi como som os canonigos 2 os religiosos
2 OS segraaes christaanos booms. 2 specialmgnte aos
monges come nos 2 peregrijs. (d) Poys por esto. como
for dito 2 sabido. que alguum hospede chega aaporta
do mosteyro. occorra oprior 2 uaA ho Receber. ou os
frayres con todo officio decaridade. (e) E primeyro
orem todos juntamente. 2 assy sejam acompanhados
na paz do osculo (f) O qual osculo 2 beyjo depaz.
now Ihe seja dado antes, saluo pnmeyro feyta a orayon.
polos escarnecemewtos 2 enganamgwtos do diab66. (g)
E en essa saudagon dos hospedes. seja demostrada toda
humildade. (h) E a todo los hospedes que ueerem ou se
partirem do mosteyro. a cabega jnclinada. ou todo O
corpo derribado 2 strado enterra.. seja en elles adorado
ihesu christo. oqual recebem en elles. (i) E depoys
que OS hospedes forew recebidos tragam nos aaoragon.
e depoys seja con elles oprior ou outro aquem os
el encomendar. (k) E leam per diante ohospede
aley de deus. 2 esponhaw Ihe alguwa boa ligon santa
se tal for o hospede peraauer deuogon 2 pera seer
edificado. (1) E depoys desto. seja Ihe feyta 2 dada
toda humanidade 2 necessidade perao corpo assy
das outras cousas come do comer 2 de beueR (m) O
prior quebrante ojeiuuw por lo hospede. saluo se for
odia do jeiuuw precipuu 2 solenne que now possa new
deua seer q«ebrantado. (n) Mas os frayres sigam 2
guardem. 2 continuem o custume dos seus jeiuuws.
(o) O abbade deyte aagua aas maawos. aos hospedes.
(p) O abbade 2 toda a cowgregagon lauem opees aos
hospedes. os qwaaes lauados. digam este uerso. (g)
Suscepimus deus misericordiam tuam in medio templi
tui. (r) O Recebemewto dos proues 2 dos peregrijws.
specialmewte ante todalas cousas seja feyto cow diii-
gencia 2 aguga 2 cow toda cura 2 cuydado. por que en
(XXV Vo.)

elles he mays recebido ihesu christo. que ennos Ricos.
ca o terror 2 spanto dos Ricos demanda 2 requere que
Ihes dem 2 fagam honra. (s) A cozinha do abbade 2 a

Lxxi'ii dos hospedes. seja appartada sobre sy. por tal que os
hospedes. que en horas now cartas 2 desvayradas veew
2 nunca quedam. nem desfalecem. ao mosteyro. now
jnquietem new anogem os frayres. (t) Enna qual
cozinha. entrem encadahuuw anno dous frayres que
esse officio ben complam 2 fagam perfeytamgwte. (u)
Aos quaaes sejam ministrados 2 dados parceyros se os
houuerem mester. por tal que seruam sen murmuro.
(v) E qwando forem uagos 2 now teuerem (que eras.)
en que se occupar na cozinha. vaawo aas outras obras 2
lauores hu Ihes mandarem. (w) Enow tansolamgwte. en
estas. mas ajnda entodolos officias do mosteyro. meesma
consijragon 2 maneyra seja teiida. que quando houuerem
mesteR ajudoyros 2 companheyros sejam Ihes ministrados
2 dados, (x) E condecabo q«ando forem uagos. obedee-
gam ao quel hes encommendar outra obra. (y) E huum
frayre cuja alma tema 2 ame deus. tenha 2 haja huwa cella
dos hospedes certa 2 assijnada. 2 acasa dedeus sagesmewte
seja ministrada 2 regida por los booms 2 sabedores.
(z) Aquel a.que now foR encowmendado. ennehuwa
maneyra now acompanhe nem se achegue aos hospedes
nem fale con elles. mas se encontrar cow elles ou os ver
.saude os. humildosamente perla. guisa que ja dito he.
2 abeegon pedida. traspasse. dizendo en seu coragow que
Ihe now conuen nem perteece falar cow ohospede.

CAP. LXXI V. (Red) Que now deue omonge Receber leteras new
doowes nem outras Joyas.

(a) (Blue) E (Black) n nehuma maneyra now conuenha ao
monge Receber de sew^ parentes ne doutro homem qusdquer
nem huum monge doutro. nem dar. cartas demessageems.
nem doomes grandes. nem outros qwaaes quer doomes
peqwenos nem joyas. sen mandada 2 lecenga de seu
abbade. (b) E se Ihe ajnda seus parentes enuiarem
alguma cousa. now presuma nem ouse de a Receber.
ataa que o primeyramewte diga 2 faga saber ao abbade.
(c) E se pella uentura mandar que a Recebam. en po-
derio do
(XXVI Ro)

abbade seja de adar. aquem el mandar. (d) E now se
contriste nem tome nojo aquel frayre aque per uentura foy
enviada essa cousa. por tal que now seja dada cajon 2

Lxxiv aazo ao daboo. (e) E aquel que en outra guisa prgsumir
2 ousar defazer seja posto aa disciplina da Regla.

CAP. LXXV. (Red) Das uestiduras dos frayres.'.

(a) A (Black) s vestiduras sejam dadas aos frayres.
segundo aqwalidade 2 atemperan^a dos aares. dos logares
hu moram. por qwe nas terras 2 logares frios. mays ham
mester. 2 ennos queewtes menos. (b) Poys esta cowsijragow
seja en no juyzo do abbade. (c) Pero nos creemos que.
nos logares temperados abastara acadahuum monge
cugula 2 saya. conuen assaber. no jnuerno cugula uillosa
2 grossa. 2 no estio pura 2 delgada ou uelha. 2 huuw
scapulayro per aas obras. (d) As uestiduras 2 cobri-
mewtos dos pees, sejam pehugas 2 calgas. (e) Da color
das quaaes cousas 2 da grossura dellas. now questoowem
OS monges new se queixem nem fagam delo gran cuydado
.mas contentem se detaaes quaaes poderem seer achados
na prouincia 2 terra, hu moram. ou quaaes jgualmente
mays demercado se poderem comprar. (f) E oabbade
proueja da mensura 2 qwantidade. que now sejam
curtas essas uestiduras 4aqMdles que as husarem 2 trou-
verem. (g) Mas sejam mesuradas. (h) E qwando
receberem as uestiduras nouas. dem sempre as uelhas
logo no presente. 2 sejaw postas na casa da uestaria
peraos proues. (i) Ao monge abasta teer duas sayas 2
duas cugulas. pello dormir das noutes. 2 pera poder lauar
essas cousas. (k) E ja oque demays. for. sobejo he. 2
deue de se6r tirado. (I) E as pehugas 2 toda cousa
que for uelha dem 2 entreguem. qwando receberem anoua.
(m) Aqwelles que enviam afora do mosteyro encaminho.
recebam panos meores da casa da uestiaria. 2 qwando
se tomarem. entreguem nos hy lauados. (n) E as
cugulas 2 as sayas que leuarem. sejam qwanto quer
melhores huuw pouco que as outras que usam atrageR.
(o) As qwaaes recebam da uestiaria os que houuerew de
andar caminho. 2 depoys que veerem. entreguem nas.
(p) Per aestramewtos deRoupas dos leytos. abastem
acadahuuw monge. huma manta 2 huuw almadraqwe 2
huma cuberta. 2 huum cabegal. os quaaes leytos em-
(XXVI Vo.)

per6. sejam ameiide sooldrinhados do abbade. por la
obra do pegulho 2 do propno. nem pella uentura seja

Lxxv achado. (q) E se aalguuw for achada alguwa cousa
que Ihe oabbade now desse. seja posto aa muy graue
disciplina. (r) Epor tal que este peccado de pegulho 2
de propriedade seja de todo en todo tirado 2 talhado de
Rayz. de Oabbade aos monges todalas cousas necessarias.
conuew assaber. acugula. assy as pehugas. as calgas.
obragueyro. ocutello.o stillo. aagulha. atoalha. as tauoas
por tal que toda escusagon de necessidade seja tirada.
(s) Pero. oabbade sempre consijre aqwella sentenga dos
autos dos apostolos. naqwal diz que era dado acadahuum.
assi como acadahuum complia. (t) Assi poys. 2
oabbade consijre as jnfirmidades 2 necessidades dos
minguados 2 dos que ham mester. 2 now amaa uoowtade
dos envejosos. (u) Empero entodolos seus juyzos cuyde
2 pense ogualardon de deus.

CAP. LXXVI. (Red) Damesa do abbade.

(a) A (Black) mesa do. abbade seja sempre conperegrijws
(spatium) 2 cow hospedes. (b) E qz^ando hy now
houuer hospedes. enpoderio do abbade seja. chamar
dos frayres quaaes elle quiser. (c) Pero. sempre procure
qMe leixe huum ou doM5 anciaawos cow os frayres. por
discipHna 2 ensinanga 2 por guarda da ordem.

CAP. LXXVI I. (Red) Dos mesteyraaes do mosteyro.

(a) (Blue) S (Black) e forem no mosteyro frayres me-
steyraaes que sabam laurar 2 obrar de artes 2 demesteres.
fagam 2 obrem essas artes cow toda humildade.(per, ras.)
se Ihe o abbade mandar 2 der lecenga. (b) E se alguum
delles se aleuantar ensoberua por la sciencia 2 saber
da sua arte. poR qwanto vee qMe faz alguuw proueyto ao
mosteyro. (c) Este tal seja tirado 2 priuado dessa arte. 2
desyadeante now passe mays por ella. saluo se se humildar
.2 o abbade condecabo Ihe mandar que use de sua arte,
(d) Mas se alguma cousa das obras. dos mesteyraaes
for pera vender, uejam esses por cujas maawos. ham
depassar 2 se ham deuendeR. que now presumam nem
ousem defazer .engano nehuuw. (e) Nembrem se sempre
de anania 2
(XXVII Ro.)

de saphira. nem per uentura. amorte q«e elles padecerom
nos corpos. aqwesta padegam nas almas estes 2 todos

Lxxvii aqueWes que alguuw engano fezerem nas cousas domo-
steyro. (f) E en esses pregos 2 ualia dessas cousas que
houuerem deuender. now soentre new chegue hy omal
2 opeccado da auareza 2 da cobijga. mas sempre sejam
dadas 2 uendidas por menos preqo qzmntoqwgr. que as
cousas dos segraaes. por tal que en todalas cousas deus
seja glorificado 2 louuado.

CAP. LXXVII I. (Red) Como deuem receber os frayres nouicios:
(a) Q (Black) uando alguuw veeR nouamente do mundo
ao mosteyro per a. seruir adg«s. now Ihe seja logo deli-
geyro outorgada a entrada. mas primeyro oprouem,
assi como diz oapostolo. (b) Prouade os spiritus se
ueem da parte de deus. (c) Eporem de oque assi ueer
aas portas do mosteyro. se perseuerar batendo. 2 rogawdo
que o recebam. 2 uirem que el soffre con paciencia as
jnjurias que Ihe forem feytas 2 ditas perao prouar. 2
acareza 2 negamento do Recebemewto. 2 que perseuera
2 sta firme na sua petigon. de poys de qwatro ou cinco dias.
seja Ihe outorgada aentrada. 2 seja nacella dos hospedes
huuws poucos de dias. (d) E depoys seja posto na cella
dos nouigos. hu lea 2 pense en boas cousas. 2 coma
2 dorma. (e) E seja Ihe dado huum anciaawo. detodo
entodo entenda 2 oolhe sobre elle cow muyto cuydado. 2
seja solicito 2 diligente pera conhecer 2 saber del. se
uerdadeyramgwte busca 2 demanda dews. 2 se he solicito
2 aguigoso aa obra de deus 2 aa obediencia. 2 aos doestos
2 jnjurias. (f) Sejam Ihe preegadas as cousas duras 2
asperas poHas qukaes ha dhir ao regno de dez^s. (g)
E se prometer perseueranga da sua firmeza. 2 do seu
firme proposito. seja Ihe leuda aqwesta regla toda por-
ordem depoys de dous meses. 2 digam Ihe. (h) Ugs.
esta he a ley so aqual tu queres uiuer 2 lidar. se apodes
guardar. entra. 2 se now podes parte te 2 vayte liure.
(i) E se ajnda steuer 2 pe^-seuerar no seu proposito.
estonce tragam no. (in ras., aa sobredita) cella dos nouigos.
2 cowdecabo seja prouado entoda paciencia. (k) E
depoys de sex meses. seja Ihe outra uez leuda esta regla.
pera saber aqwello aque entra. (1) E se ajn-
(XXVII Vo.)

da perseuera 2 sta no seu pwposito. seja Ihe outra uez
leuda depoys dequatro meses. esta. medes Regla. (m)

Lxxv'iii E hauudo e feyto con sigo o deliberamgwto 2 conselho.
se prometer aguardar todalas cousas. 2 afazer 2 guardar
todalas cousas que Ihe forem encomendadas. estonce
seja recebido na congregagon. sabendo por certo. que
ja he stabelecido 2 posto. so aley da regla. 2 ja des
aqwelle dia now Ihe conuem. saiR, do mosteyro. nem
sacudir 2 tiraR oseu collo de so o jugo da regla. aqual
so tarn perlongada dehberagon podera escusar. 2 leixar
(n) O que houuer desseer Recebido. faga no oratorio pro-
metimewto da sua stabeleza 2 firmidoowe perdante todos.
2 do conuertimewto 2 mudamgwto dos seus custumes 2 da
sua obediencia perdante deus 2 os seus santos por tal
que se peruentura en alguuwz tempo el iezer o contrayro.
saba por certo que sera condennado de deus. doqual
escarnece. (o) Do qual seu prometimewto. faga huma
petigow en nome dos santos dos quaaes hy som hauudas
2 postas reliquias. 2 en nome do abbade que hy foR
presente. (p) Aqual petigon esse nouigo screua cow
sua maawo. ou certamente se now sabe leteras. outro
que el Rogar. a escreua. 2 aque\ nouigo faga en ella oseu
signal 2 cow asua maawo aponha sobre oaltar. (q) E
depoys que aposer. comece esse nouigo logo, aqz^gste
uerso. (r) Suscipe me domine secundum eloquium
tuum 2 uiuam. et ne confundas me abexpectatione mea.
(s) Oqual uerso repeta toda a congregagon por tres
uezes. ajuntando Ihe. gloria patri. (t) E enton esse
frayre nouigo. deyte se aos pees de cadahuum dos monges
que Roguem ad^MS por elle. (u) E ja des aquel dia
endeante seja contado 2 hauudo en no conto da congre-
gagon. (v) E se houuer beems ou alguwas cousas. de
as primeyramewte aos proues. ou faga dellas doagon
solennemewte. 2 de as ao mosteyro. now guardando ne
leixando de todas essas cousas. cousa nehuwta pera. sy.
oqual certamewte saba que des aqicel dia now hauera
poder. oseu corpo proprio. (w) Epor esto logo no ora-
torio seja desvestido das cousas proprias. das qz^aaes he
(XXVIII Ro.)

uestido. 2 uestam no. das cousas do mosteyro. (x)
Mas aqz^ellas uestiduras. de que o deuestem. sejam
postas enguarda na casa da uestiaria. pera. que. se el en
alguuw tempo consentar ao engano 2 cowselho do diab66.
que se saya domosteyro. oque deus now mande. estowce
5 65

Lxxviii desvestam no das cousas do mosteyro 2 lancem no fora.
(y) Pero aq^ella petigon que o abbade leuou de sobre
oaltar. now Ihe seja dada. mas seja guardada no mo-
steyro.

CAP, LXXIX. (Red) Como deuem seer recebidos os filhos dos
Ricos 2 OS dos proues aa profisson.
(a) S (Black) e pella uentura alguuw dos grandes 2
nobles offerece 2 da Oseu filho a.deus no mosteyro. se esse
mogo he de meor ydade. o padre 2 amadre del. fagam
apetigon. aqwal suso dissemos. (b) E con offerta 2
oblada. essa petigon 2 a maawo do mogo enuoluam na
palla do altar 2 assy o offeregam adeus. (c) Elogo na
presente petigon prometam so juramento. que das suas
cousas. por sy nem por outra persoa new per nehuma
maneyra en alguuw tempo, nunca Ihe dem cousa nehuma.
nem ocasyon new aazo dehauuer. (d) Ou certamgwte se
esto fazer now quiserem. 2 alguwa cousa quiserem of-
ferecer 2 dar ao mosteyro en esmola por ben das suas
almas, fagam das cousas que qwerem dar. doagon ao
mosteyro. (e) Reseruando por assy, se o assy fazer
quiserem. ho usu dos frutos ensua uida. (f) E assy
todalas cousas sejam engarradas 2 ordenadas. que ne-
huwa suspeeygow new ocasyon. now fiqwe ao mogo p(e)lla
qual el enganado. oque deus now mande. possa parecer.
aqMal cousa ja ap^gndemos 2 uimos por expmencia.
(g) E por esta medes guisa fa^am os mays proues. (h)
Mas a.que\les que detodo now ham cousa nehuwa.
simplezmente fagam apetigon. 2 cow offerta offeregam
seu filho per dante testimunhas.

CAP. LXXX. (Red) Dos sacerdotes que quiserem morar no
mosteyro". ■

(a) (Blue) S (Black) e alguuw da ordem dos sacerdotes
Rogar. que oRecebam no mosteyro. now Ihe seja logo
outorgado tan cedo. (b) Pero se el detodo entodo
steuer 2 pgrseuerar en aqwesta supplicagow. seja Ihe
outorgado. 2 saba por certo. que ha deguardar toda
(XXVIII Vo.)

adisciplina 2 doutrina da regla. 2 que nehuwa causa
della now Ihe sera suxada new relaxada. pera. seer feyto
assy como he scripto. (c) Amigo aque ueeste? (d)

Lxxx Seja Ihe empero outorgado estar logo depoys do abbade
2 deytar beengoowes. 2 missas (spatium) cantar 2 teer.
empero se Ihe oabbade encommendar. (e) En outra
maneyra now. presuma new seja ousado de iazer cousa
nehuwa. sabendo qtie he obligado 2 sogeyto ao dis-
cipHna 2 ensinanga daRegla. 2 deue dedar exemplos
de mays humildade 2 de santidade atodos. (f) E se
pella uentura fala ou conselho de alguuw ordenamgwto
ou de alguma outra cousa se fezer no mosteyro. esguarde
2 attenda aqwel logar 2 graao que houue qz^ando entrou
no mosteyro. 2 now aquel que Ihe foy dado 2 outorgado
por reuerenca 2 honra do sacerdotio. (g) Mas se alguuw
dos cleerigos ordinados. de outras ordeems. con este
meesmo desejo quiser qwe o recebam no mosteyro. seja
alogado 2 posto en logar 2 graao meo 2 pgrteecente ael.
2 esto empero se ele prometer aguardaras obseruancias
2 mandamewtos da regla 2 perseuerar no mosteyro. en
seu p^oposito 2 desejo firmemewte.

CAP. LXXXI. (Red) Dos monges peregrijm(s) como deuem
s46r recebidos no mosteyro.',

(a) S (Black) e alguuw monge pgregrin veer delongas
terras. 2 por hospede quiser morar no mosteyro 2 se
contentar do usu 2 custume do logar que achar. 2 now
cow sua sobegidoowe pella uentura toruaR omosteyro
mas simplezmewte hecontento. daqw^lo que acha. seja
recebido qwanto tempo quiser. (b) E se el certamewte
cow Razon 2 con humildade de caridade Reprehender
alguwas cousas. traute o abbade sagesmewte. se pella
uentura aesta medes causa o enviasse onosso senhor.
(c) Mas se depoys el quiser firmar a sua stabeleza 2
perseueranga. 2 iazer aprofisson. now Ihe seja negada
tal uoowtade. 2 mayormewte que no tempo da hospitali-
dade poderom ben conhecer asua uida. (d) E se no
tempo da sua hospitalidade for achado sobejo ou uicioso
2 de maaos custumes. now s66mgwte now odeuem de
Receber. aa sociedade 2 cowpanhia da congregagon do
mosteyro. mas certamewte seja Ihe dito honestamewte.
que se departa 2 que se uaa en boa hora. new peruentura
poHa sua mizquijwdade 2
(XXIX Ro.)

peccados. os outros sejam uiciados 2 corruwpidos. (e)

Lxxxi E se now for tal que merega desseer langado fora. now
tansoomewte seja recebido 2 posto 2 ajuntado aa con-
grggagon se o el pedir 2 demawdar. mas ajnda seja Ihe
dito 2 rogado. que ste. por tal qwe os outros por exemplo
del aprendam 2 sejam doutrinados 2 ensinados. 2 qz^e
now haja temor de estar. ca en todo logar a huuw senhor
sefuimos 2 ahuuwz Rey fazemos seruigos de batalhas 2
lides spirituaaes. (f) Oqual monge peregrin se o abbade
uir que he tal podeo outrossy poer en mays alto logar
2 graao ja quanto (g) E now tansoomente omonge
peregrin 2 strangeyro. mas ajnda outro quaXquer dos
sobreditos graaos dos sacerdotes ou dos cleerigos pode
o abbade stabelecer 2 poer en mayor logar 2 graao. que
aquel enque entra. se uir que a sua uida he tal que
o merece. (h) Mas cauide se 2 guarde se muyto oabbade.
que nunca receba monge doutro mosteyro conhecido
pera. morar no seu. sen consentimewto do seu abbade.
ou sen leteras de encowmenda. por que scripto he. (i)
Non faras aoutrem. oque now querias que te fezessem.

CAP. LXXXI I. (Red) Dos sacerdotes do mosteyro.

(a) (Blue) S (Black) e alguum abbade pedir que Ihe
ordinem sacerdote ou de euangelho. tome 2 escolha el
dos seiis a.que\ que seja digno pera vsar do sacerdocio.

(b) Mas oque for ordinado guarda se do argulho 2 ale-
uawtamewto da uaaw gloria 2 da soberua. nem presuma
new ouse defazer cousa nehuma. saluo aqwello que Ihe
oabbade encowzmendar. sabendo por certo que he muyto
mays sogeyto 2 obligado 44 disciplina 2 doutrina da
regla. (c) E nem por ocasyon 2 aazo do sacerdocio.
now se esqueega da obediencia 2 da disciplina 2 ensinanga
daregla. mas aproueyte mays 2 mays endews. crescendo
deben enmelhor. (d) E sempre attenda 2 esguarde
aqwel logar 2 graao no qual entrou no mosteyro.
saluo o officio do altar, ajnda que pella uentura a enleygon
da congregagon 2 a uoowtade do abbade. por lo mereci-
mewto da sua uida oqueyra promouer amays alto grako.

(e) O qual empero saba. que ha deguardar a Regla que
Ihe por los seus decanos 2 curadores ou porlos prepositos
2 priores moores for stabelecida 2 encowmendada.

(f) E se per outra guisa presumir defazer. ja estonce
(XXIX Vo.)

Lxxxii now por sacerdote. mas por rebel 2 soberuoso seja julgado.
(g) E se por muytas uezes for amoestado 2 now se quiser
correger nem emendar. seja ajnda req^grido 2 tragido
obispo entestimunho. (h) E se nem assy now se quise
emendar. poys que os seus peccados som publicados 2
manifestos, seja langado fora do mosteyro. emperd se
tal for a sua cowtumacia 2 soberua. que se now queyra
sojugar 2 humildar new obedeceer ka regla.

CAP. LXXXII I. (Red) Das ordeems dos graaos dos da con'
gregagon.'.

(a) O (Black) s monges assy guardem suas ordeems
Dos graaos no mosteyro. como entraron. na ordem. 2
segundo demostrar 2 demandar o merecimgwto dauida.
2 assy como oabbade estabelecer. (b) O qwal abbade
now torue agrey 2 companha ael cometida. nem faga
nem ordene cousa nehuma now dereytamewte 2 como
now deue. vsando assi como de poderio libre 2 absoluto.
mas sempre cuyde que detodolos seus juyzos 2 obras.
ha dedar razon adeus. (c) Poys por esto segundo as
ordeems dos graaos qtce o abbade stabelecer. ou segundo
OS que esses frayres houuerem. assy se acheguem aapaz.
2 aa comunhon. 2 aa leuantaR o salmo. 2 a estar no choro.
(d) E de todo entodo .entodolos logares a. ydade now
seja estremada nem esguardada na ordem dos grados.
nem faga perjuyzo. por que samuel 2 daniel mogos.
julgaron os uelhos. (e) E por esto. tirados aqwestes
OS qwaaes assi como ja dissemos. oabbade cow grande
2 mays alto conselho exalgar 2 poser en mays alto gra^o.
ou degradar 2 abaixar. por algumas certas Razoowes.
desy todolos outros. assi como ueeron 4a ordem. assy
sejam 2 stem en seus graaos: (f) Verbi gracia. (g)
Aquel qtie veer ao mosteyro. na segunda hora do dia.
conhega qtie he mays junior 2 mays peqweno na ordem.
que aquel que ueo na primeyra hora do dia. de qualqz/er
ydade 2 dignidade ou condigow que el seja. (h) Os mogos
entodalas cousas sejam doutrinados 2 castigados de todos.
(i) Eporende. os juniores honrem os seus priores. 2 os
priores amem os seus juniores. (k) E en esse chamamewto
dos nomes. nehuum now chame outro por seu nome puro
soomente sen outro enhadimewto. mas os priores chamem
OS sews juniores. fratres jrmaawos. 2 juniores chamem

Lxxxiii (XXX Ro.)

OS sens priores. nonnos. enqiie se entende reuerencia de
padre. (1) Mas oabbade porqwe cr6emos que el ten as
uezes 2 logar de jhesu christo. seja chamado dom abbade.
now por tomar el este nome por sy. mas por honra 2
amor de ihe^u christo. seja assy chamado. (m) E esse
abbade cuyde 2 pense assy se componha 2 apparelhe.
que seja digno detal honra. (n) E huquer que os frayres
se encontrarem huums aos outros o jeiunior pega abeen-
gon ao seu prior, (o) E qz/ando omayor passar por
hu seuer o meor. leuante se omeor 2 delhe logar que seja.
(p) E now pr^-suma new ouse ojunior de se asseentar.
saluo se Iho mandar o seu anciaawo. pera. seer feyto 2
complido o que he scripto. (q) Honrade uos huums
OS outros. (r) Os mogos pqe«enos 2 os mancebos. na
egreja 2 as mesas cow disciplina guardem suas ordeems.
(s) Mas fora ou enqualqnev logar hajam guarda 2 dis-
ciplina at^a que uenham ahydade de entendimewto.

CAP. LXXXIV. (Red) Como 2 de qtcaa.es persoas deue oabbade
s4er feyto 2 ordenado.

(a) (Blue) E (Black) nna ordenagon do abbade sempre
seja consijrada aquella Razon que aquel seja stabelecido
2 feyto abbade. oqz^al p^ra sy toda acompanha da cow-
gregagon segundo otemor de deus. ou certamewte aq^el
que huma parte da congregacow enleger cow mays saawo
conselho. ajnda que seja pequena. (b) E o qtie houuer
desseer ordenado 2 feyto abbade. seja enlegido por
merecimewto de uida 2 por doutrina de sabedoria. posto
que seja o mays postumeyro da congregagon na ordem,
(c) E se certamewte toda acongregagon o que deus non
mande. enlegerew. todos enhuum conselho tal persoa
que consenta 2 de logar aos sens uicios 2 peccados. 2
esses peccados per alguwm maneyra veerem en noticia
do bispo acujo bispado perteece esse logar. ou forem
notificados 2 demostrados aos. abbades ou aos cristaawos
uezinhos defendam 2 fagam qtie now ualha o consenti-
mento dos maaos. 2 ordenew 2 stabelegam aa casa de
d^«s. huum boom 2 digno dispensador 2 regedor sabendo
por certo que por esto receberam de dews boom galardon
2 boa mercee. se esto fezerem castamewte 2 cow zeo 2
amor de deus. assicomo 2 porlo contrayro hauer^m

Lxxxiv peccado sees to desprezarem 2 onon qz^eserem fazer. (c)
Mas oque for ordenado 2 fey to abbade cuyde sempre
qual en-
(XXX Vo.)

carrego recebeo 2 aquem ha dedar conto 2 raz6n da sua
ministragon 2 cura. (d) E saba que mays Ihe compre
de aprofeytar .que de se assenhorar. (e) Poys pera. esto
Ihe conuem desseer ensinado na ley dedeus 'que saba
2 seja 2 haja en el. onde diga 2 ensine aos seus discipulos
as cousas nouas 2 as uelhas (rasura). (f) Deue outro
sy seer casto 2 temperado 2 honesto. (g) Misericordioso.
humildoso. 2 sempre exalce amisericordia no juyzo.
portal que a sega el. 2 ache ante deus. (h) Auorrega
2 entege os uicios 2 peccados. ame os frayres. (i) E en
essa correygon. dos frayres haja se 2 faga sagesmente
2 discretamewte. 2 now qweyra muyto castigar mays
que compre. nem pella uentura querendo Raer 2 tirar
aferrugem mays que deue quebrante o uaso. (k) E
sempre seja suspeyto attendendo 2 consijrando a sua
fraqweza 2 que he homem fraco. 2 que ou ja cayo empec-
cado. ou pode cayr assy podera conhecer como faga
aos outros misericordia. (1) Outro sy nembre se do
dito do propheta no qual diz. que a canna amehude
abalada 2 ferida. now deue de seer mays qwebrantada
(m) Nas quaaes cousas now dizemos nem damos exemplos.
que oabbade leyxe criar os uicios 2 peccados. mas sages-
mente condiscrigon 2 cow caridade. os talhe 2 castigue.
assi como el melhor uir que comple 2 conuem acad^-
huum. assi como ja dissemos. (n) E estude 2 trabalhe
de seer mays amado que temido. (o) Non seja turbu-
lento. 2 triston 2 spantoso no uultu nem coytoso. (p)
Non seja sobejo 2 ^uyto deuoowtade nem obstinado 2
2 duro. (q) Non seja zeloso 2 muyto suspeytoso assi
nas cousas spirituaaes come nas temporiaes. por qtie
nunca folgara. (r) En esses seus mandamewtos 2 jmpe-
rios. seja ben prouisto 2 sages 2 discreto. queR segundo
deus. quer segundo omundo. (s) E as obras que el
mandar fazer departaas 2 determinhe 2 tempere as con
descri^on. consijrando 2 cuydando a descrigon daqwel
santo homew: Jacob, qtie disse. (t) Se as minhas greys
2 ouelhas (ezer mays trabalhar en andar do que Ihes
comple. morreram todas enhuuw dia. (u) Poys. estes

Lxxxiv 2 outros exemplos da descrigon madre das uirtudes
tome oabadde. 2 assy tempere todalas cousas. que os
saanos 2 fortes sejam aqwelles que cubijcem 2 desegem
a fazeR
(XXXI Ro.)

2 OS fracos 2 enfermos now refugam new se aRedem da
obra que Ihes for encomendada. (v) E sobre todalas
cousas mandamos que oabbade guarde esta presente
regla. que qwando el ben ministrar 2 reger ouga do senhor.
assi como oboom seruo que ministrou 2 deu. o trijgo 2
mantijmewto aos seus cowseruos enno seu tempo, (w)
Uerdade uos digo. diz. que sobre todolos seus beews o
establecera

CAP. LXXXV. (Red) Do preposito 2 prior de toda a congre-
ga.gon do mosteyro.

(a) M (Black) uytas uezes certam^wte acontece que
porla ordenagon do preposto de toda acongregagon.
nascem 2 se aleuantam graues scandalos nos mosteyros.
qwando acontece que som alguuws prepostos jnchados de
spiritu maao de soberua. que pensam 2 cuydam que
som segundos abbades : tomando pera sy honra 2 senhorio
detirannaria 2 decrueldade criam scandalos. 2 fazem
aRoydos 2 departimewtos enna congregagon. 2 mayor-
mente en aqz^elles logares. hu desse meesmo sacerdote 2
bispo. ou desses meesmos abbades que ordinam oabbade.
desses he o preposto ordenado. (b) Aqz/al cousa qz^anto
ensy seja contrayra 2 maa deligeyro muyto asinha se
pode conhecer 2 entender. (c) For que logo desse
comego da ordenagon. Ihe he dada materia 2 ocasyon de
ensoberbecer. qz^ando as suas cuydacoowes Ihe mostram
2 fazem teer. que he fora 2 Iiure do poderio do seu
abbade. por qwanto desses meesmos he ordenado. dos
q^aaes he oabbade. (d) E daqwi se aleuantam 2 nascem.
enuejas. iras. batalhas. detraymentos 2 maldizeres
vyaingas. (corr. ma— s. XV) departimgwtos. 2 aRoydos
2 desordenacoowes. assi que qwando oabbade 2 opreposto
se sentem 2 som cowtrayros assi meesmos. 2 aqwfllo
que oabbade ordena. opreposto desordena forgada cousa
he. que so tal discordia 2 departimewto as almas delles
andem emperigoo. 2 aqwestes que so elles som sogeytos.
enlouuaminhawdo 2 plazenteando aas partes, vaam se

Lxxxv aperdigon. (e) O mal deste per'igoo se torna 2 esguarda
aaqz^dles que de taaes cousas en na ordenagon se fezeron
autores 2 ordenadores. (f) Eporende nos agora ueemos
perao depoys qtie compre 2 perteece por guarda da paz
2 da caridade. que no poderio 2 aluidro do abbade penda
2 seja toda aordenagon do seu
(XXXI Vo.)

mosteyro. (g) E se poder seeR. todo oproueyto do
mosteyro 2 aw^ministragon seja ordenado 2 partido.
assi como ja ordenamos 2 stabelecemos. por decanos 2
curadores. pella guisa que o abbade ordenar 2 mandar.
que q^^ando a ministragow do mosteyro for cometida
amuytos. huum now ensoberuecera new hauera razon
de se leuantar enbandoria. (h) Mas se ologar req^erer
2 houuer mester preposto. ou toda a.congrega.gon opedir
Razoauilmente 2 co« humildade. 2 o abbade lulgar 2
vir que comple. ordene 2 stabelega enprgposto qualqz^gr
que el elegeR cow conselho dos frayres que temerem
dens, (i) O qual preposto faga cow Reugrencia aqwdlas
cousas que Ihe forem encowzmendadas de seu abbade.
(k) Non faga cousa nehuwza contra uoowtade 2 ordenagon
do abbade. por que qwanto mays he prelado 2 prior sobre
todolos outros. tanto Ihe mays conuen 2 perteece guardar
cowmuyto studo 2 cuydado os preceptos 2 mandamgwtos
da regla. (1) O qual prgposto se for achado uicioso 2
maao. ou enganado por argulho 2 aleuantara^wto de
soberua ou desprezador da santa regla. seja amoestado
por palauras . ataa quatro uezes. 2 se now se quiser
emendar. fagam en el acorreygon que manda adisciplina
2 ensinanga da regla. (m) E se nem assy, now se cor-
reger 2 emendar. estonce seja langado fora 2 tirado do
officio 2 da ordem deprgposto 2 deprior. 2 outro que
digno for. seja posto 2 sta-belecido en seu logo, (n)
E se depoys desto. now for manso 2 humildoso 2 obediente
na congregagow. lancem no fora do mosteyro. (o)
Empero oabbade cuyde 2 pense que detodolos seus
juyzos ha dedar conto 2 Razon adeus. nem pella uentura
achama 2 fogo da enueja ou do maao zeo 2 da mad
uoowtade tanga 2 queyme a sua alma.

CAP. LXXXVI. (Red) Dos porteyros da porta do mosteyro.
(a) (Blue) A (Black) aporta do mosteyro seja posto

Lxxxvi huuw uelho anciaawo sabedor. que saba receber 2 dar
resposta. 2 recado aos que chegarem: oqwal seja de
taaes custumes 2 assessegado que non ande uagando.
(b) O qual porteyro deue deteer huma cella acerca da
porta, por tal que os que ueerem. sempre achem presente
de quew
(XXXII Ro.)

recebam 2 hajam resposta. (c) E logo como alguem
bater. ou alguuw proue chamar 2 braadar aa porta,
responda 2 diga. gragas a dews, ou beenza adeus . 2
diga benedictu5 deus. 2 con toda mansidoowe de temor
dedeus .de. muyto asinha Resposta cow feruor de caridade
(d) Aoqual porteyro seja dado-huum frayre mancebo.
se houuer mester parceyro que o ajude. (e) Mas omo-
steyro. se poder seer, pertal guisa deue seer edificado 2
fundado. que todalas cousas necessarias. cowuem assaber.
aagua. omaynho. aorta, o forno. 2 as outras artes des-
uayradas quaaesqwer. dentro no mosteyro sejam feytas
2 husadas. por tal que non seja necessidade aos monges
monges deuagar 2 andar fora do mosteyro. por que de
todo en todo now perteece ne he proueyto aas suas almas.
(f) E qweremos que aqwesta regla. seja leuda por muytas
uezes na congregagon. por tal que nehuuw frayre now
se escuse por non saber.

CAP. LXXXVI I. (Red) Dos frayres enViados perandar
caminho.'.

(a) O (Black) s frayres que houuerem de enuiar (spatium)
per andar caminho. encommende se na oragon de todolos
frayres. ou na do abbade que roguem adeus por elles.

(b) E semprg na postumeyra colleyta da obra de deus
seja feyta commemoragon de todolos frayres que non
som hy presentes. (c) E qwando se tornarem os frayres
2 ueerem de caminho. en esse dia que se tornam 2 chegam
ao mosteiro. por todalas horas canonicas q^fando se
acaba a obra de deus. deytados no chaawo do oratorio
pegam atodos que roguem adeus por elles. porlos caymen-
tos 2 desfalecimentos. new pella uentura. Ihes aueesse 2
acontecesse no caminho. alguma causa maa que uissem
ou ouvissem. ou falassem alguma palaura ociosa. (d)
Nen presuma nem ouse nehuuw Recontar aoutro nehuwa
daqwdlas cousas que uir ou ouuir fora domosteiro quaa-

Lxxxvii Gsquer que ellas sejam. por que esto he grande destruygon
da ordew. (e) E se alguuw presumir 2 ousar de (azer
esto. seja castigado con a disciplina da regla. (f) E
esso meesmo fagam aaqwel que presumir a sair da claustra
do mosteyro. ou hyr pera. qualqe^er logar que seja. ou
iazer alguwa cousa ajnda que seja peqwena. sen mandado
do abbade
(XXXII Vo.)

CAP. LXXXVIII. (Red) Dos frayres aque encomendam
algumas cousas graues 2 que elles now podem fazer.
(a) (Blue) S (Black) e pella uentura aalguum frayre
encommendam algumas cousas graues. ou que el no possa
iazer. todauia receba omandamewto daqwel que Iho
encomenda. con toda mansidoo«e 2 cow toda obedi-
encia. (b) E se detodo entodo el uir que o pesume do
encarrego sobrepoja amensura 2 qwantidade das suas
forgas. diga 2 demostre cowuinhauilmewte 2 cowpaciencia.
ao seu mayor, as razoowes da sua fraqwgza 2 do seu now
poder. now ensoberuecendo nem contradizendo. (c)
E se depoys que el demostre ao seu mayor a sua haqueza.
2 o encomendamewto 2 mandamewto doprior durar 2
steuer en sua sentenga 2 now aquiser reuagar. seba o
junior 2 subdito que assy Ihe conuen obedecer. 2 de
caridade confiando do ajudoyro de deus obedeega.

CAP. LXXXIX. (Red) Que enno mosteyro nehuuw now seja
ousado de deffender huum outro.

(a) C (Black) ousa pera esquiuar 2 cauidar muyto he
que nehuuwz monge por ocasion. 2 aazo nehuuw que seja
now. presuma nem seja ousado de defender outro monge
no mosteyro. nem poer se emparamewto por elle. ajnda
que sejam muyto achegados por qual queR achegamewto
de parentesco. (b) E per nehuma maneyra os monges
now presumaw new ousem de fazer. esto. por que desto
pode nacer muy graue cajon 2 aazo de escandalos. (c)
E se alguuw traspassar aqwestas cousas seja asperamente
castigado.".

CAP. XC. (Red) Por tal que now presuma nem seja ousado
huuw ferir outro.'.

(a) (Blue) S (Black) eja uedado 2 cauidado. no mosteyro.

CAP. xc Q aazo 2 cajon de toda maa presuwpgon. (b) Epera
esto ordenamos 2 stabelecemos que anehuum monge
now conuenha de escomungar nehuuw dos seus jrmaawos.
new ferir. saluo aaqtiel aqiie oabbade der poder. (c)
Mas OS que peccarem. perdante todos sejam reprehendi-
dos 2 castigados. por tal que os outros hajam medo.
(d) Aos mogos peqwenos. atai oqMinto decimo anno da
sua ydade seja feyta muyta diligencia de disciplina 2
ensinanga. 2 hajam guarda de todos. mas 2 aqwesto
con toda mesura 2 razon. (spatium). (e) Ca en os
(XXXIII Ro.)

de mayor ydade aquel que presumir 2 ousar de alangar
maawo 2 os ferir per alguwa maneyra. sen mandado
de seu abbade. ou ajnda en esses mogos pequenos cow
sanha 2 sen discregon poser maawos. seja posto aidi-
sciplina 2 castigo da regla. por que scripto he. (f) Now
fagas aoutrem oque tu now qwerias que te fezessem.

CAP. XCI. (Red) De como os mowges deuem seer obedientes
assi meesmos. huums aoutros 2 primeyro ao abbade 2
aos prepostos.

(a) O (Black) ben da obediencia. now tansoomewte deue
seer feyto ao abbade. mas ajnda os frayres assi meesmos
obedeegam. huuwzs aos outms. sabendo que por aqwesta
carreyra de obediencia elles iram ao regno de deus.

(b) Epoys por esto. feyto 2 complido antes oencomenda-
mewto 2 mandamento do abbade 2 o dos prepostos que
el stabelece 2 ordena. oqwal encomendamewto now damos
logar. que seja leixado por nehuum dos outros encomenda-
mewtos pnuados des hy adeante todolos juniores obedee-
gam aos seus priores cow toda caridade 2 cow toda dili-
gencia 2 cuydado. (c) E se alguum for achado contencio-
so 2 desprezador desto. seja castigado. (d) Mas se
alguum frayre for castigado ou reprehendido de seu
abbade por qtialquer causa ajnda que seja muy peqwena.
ou for ajnda reprehendido 2 castigado de qwalquer dos
seus priores 2 anciaawos per qMalqz/er maneyra. ou se
sentir o coragon deqzmlqz^er seu prior, irado leuemente
contra sy. ou mouido 2 tornado, ajnda que seja muy
pouco. logo muyto asinha sen detardanga se alcance
ante os pees delle. 2 jaga tan pgHongadamewte strado
2 derribado enterra satisfazendo 2 pedindo uenia 2

perdon. ataa que porheengon se Ihe vkk aquel mouimento
2 toruamento do seu coragon. (e) E se alguuw des-
prezar 2 non quiser esto (azer. seja posto aa vinganga
corporal de jeiuuws 2 deferidas. ou se tanto for cow-
tumaz 2 soberuoso 2 reuel que ennehuma maneyra now
se qweira humildar. estonce seja (ras., 1. It.) langado fora
do mosteyro.

CAP. XCII. (Red) Do zeo boom que deuem hauer os monges:
(a) (Blue) A (Black) ssi como ha hy zeo maao de amar-
gura 2 de peccado que aparta os homeems de deus 2
leua OS ao jnferno. assi ha hy
(XXXIII Vo.)

zeo 2 desejo boom que quita 2 aparta os homeems dos
uicios 2 dos peccados 2 das maldades 2 trage os adeus
2 leua OS aa uida pg^-durauil. (b) Poys aqweste zeo 2
desejo usem os monges con muy feruente amor, conuen
assaber. que se honrem huuws os outros. 2 sopportem
muy to pacientemente as suas jnfirmidades huuws aos
outros. assi dos corpos come dos custumes. 2 sejam
huuws aoutros obedientes deuotamewte 2 de boow
coragon. (c) Nehuuw non sigua new faga. aqueWo que
que assi meesmo aprouguer 2 iulgar que he proueytoso.
mas antes aq«gllo que aoutrem prouguer 2 for proueytoso.

(d) Hajam caridade de germaydade 2 amem se assi
como jrmaawos con boom amor 2 casto 2 sen malicia.

(e) Temam dews 2 amem o seu abbade cow pura 2 limpa
2 humildosa caridade. (f) Non posponham por cousa
nehuma. ihe^u christo. oqz^al nos leue todos juntamente
aa uida perdurauil AmeN.

CAP. XCII I. (Red) De como now he posto nem stabelecido
en esta regla o guardamento de toda iustiga 2 uirtude
de perieygon

(a) A (Black) questa regla ditamos 2 screuemos por tal
que nos guardando a en nos mosteyros. mostremos qiie
hauemos per alguma maneyra honestidade debooms
custumes. ou alguum comego de boa conuersagon 2 de
ben uiuer. (b) Mas peraaquel que se trabalha 2 quer
vijwr aaperfeygon de boa conuersagow 2 da boa uida. som
muytas doutrinas 2 ensinangas dos santos padres, o guar-
damento das q?/aaes aduz 2 trage o homem ddlteza da

xcni perieygon. (c) Equal he a santa scnptura. ou qwal he
apalaura da autoridade de deus. do testamewto uelho 2 do
nouo. que non seja regla muy dereyta da uida 2 do regi-
mento do homem? (d) Ouq«al he oliuro dos santos ca-
tholicos padres, que aqwesto non diga conuen assaber. que
por carreyra. dereyta de boa uida 2 de boows custumes
uenhamos ao nosso criador? (e) Ajnda mays. 2 as
collagoows 2 os statutes 2 as uidas dos santos padres.
2 a Regla de nosso padre san basilio. qtie outm cousa
som. se now exemplos 2 instrumgwtos de uirtudes. dos
mowges obedientes 2 qiie ben'uiuem? (f) Mas anos
preguigosos 2 neglegew
(XXXIV) Ro.)

[tes] 2 que mal uiuemos som estas cousas uergonga. 2
confusion. (g) Epor esto qtialquer que tu es que te
trabalhas per a. vijwr ao regno dos ceeos. comple 2 guarda
con aajuda de ihg^u chvisto. haque^ta muy peqwetinha
regla. aq«al now he ajnda se now comego. 2 estonce
depoys vijnras cow oajudoyro de dews aas moores
cousas da doutrina 2 ensinanga 2 aas moores altezas
das uirtudes. as q«aaes acima dissemos.
(Red) Explicit secunda expositio jn regulam sancti
benedicti in romancio exarata solicite jntellectu. Lingua,
manu pariter laborantibz<5 aqz^odam monacho. pro-
ferendo dethesauro Jntellect«5 sui quantum ualebat 2
sua fragilitas eum sinebat. textum dicte regule Jntelli-
gere 2 exponere. demandato domni fernandi abbatis
alcobacie.

Over the word monacho of this Explicit a much later
hands adds in black ink, martino de aliubarrota nomi-
nate. Furthermore, in the margin is a probatio pennae
dess arra, and below the explicit another, aporta taua.

Pol. XXXIV Vo. :

Deus cuius miseratione awiwze fidelium requiescuwt
cum a.nimahtis famulorww famularwmqwg tuarum. omm-
umque fidelium hie "^ ubiqice in christo quiescentiuwz
dapropici«5 ueniaw peccatonim. ut acunctis reatibz/5
absoluti. te cum sine fine letarentur. per fTideliuw deus
omnium conditor.

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