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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 


Organization of Work 



Translated from the First Edition by 



Copyright, 1911, by 
Marie Paula Dickore. 


Merrick Whitcomb. Ph. D. 



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 

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 

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 


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. 



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 

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- 


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. 





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 

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


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 


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: 


Dailr Dead 


Wue* Sca»o C bterr.rion. 

fr. e. Mo"rtis 


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 



1 25 


Carder of buttons 

1 25 


Pasteboard worker 

1 75 



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) 







fr. c. 


Assistant to goldbeater 

1 25 


Glove maker 

1 50 


Vest and pants maker 

1 75 


Linen seamstress in wholesale 




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 



2 25 



2 50 

Vermicelli maker 

1 25 









fr. c. 



3 00 


Dresser of straw hats 

4 00 



3 50 


Butchers' boys 

3 00 



4 00 


Harness maker 

2 25 


Gold trinket maker 

4 00 


Hat maker 

4 00 



4 00 


The occupation of Car- 
penter IS dangerous. 

Pork butcher 

1 00 


Receive food. 

Kettle maker 

3 50 



5 00 



Shoe maker 

2 50 



3 00 



4 00 



2 75 


Carver (wood) 

4 00 




4 00 



3 50 


Wood gilder 

2 50 

16 hour day. 

Metal gilder 


Dangerous on account of 
the mercury. 

Cabinet maker 

2 50 



3 75 


Type founder 

3 50 


Founder of copper 

4 00 



Founder of iron 

4 00 


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


4 50 


Chimney sweep 

4 00 


Umbrella maker 

3 00 


Spectacles maker 

3 00 



WORK OF MEN (Continued) 







fr. c. 



Maker of compasses 

4 00 

Glove maker 

4 00 

Watch maker 

3 50 



4 00 


Printers on cotton 

4 50 


Box makers 

3 50 



3 00 



Lamp maker 

3 00 


Cabinet maker 

3 00 



2 50 


Marble worker 

4 50 


4 00 


Day laborers receive 2 
Boys receive 2 40. 



3 00 



5 00 



4 00 


Day laborers receive 
2 25. 

House painter 

3 50 


Carriage painter 

2 75 



4 50 


Porcelain worker 

3 50 

Passementrie worker 

3 50 


Wig maker 



Bad food and dwellings 


Book binder 

3 00 



2 75 



3 50 



3 00 


Wood turner 

3 50 


Stone cutter 

4 00 


Clothing cutter 

4 00 


Chair turner 

4 00 



3 50 


Silk dyer 

4 00 

Paper hanger 

4 00 



3 50 



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 

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 

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 


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! 




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 

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 

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. 





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- 



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- 

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. 






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 

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. 




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 

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. 




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: 

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 

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- 

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 


University of Cincinnati 

Issued Bi-monthly, from the 

University Press, Cincinnati, Ohio 

Copyrighted, 1911, by 
Frederick Charles Hicks 




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 



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 

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 


"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 



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 

"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- 

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. 


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. 


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. 


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 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." 



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. 



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- 

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 

"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- 


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 

"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 

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


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 



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 : 


































+ 10,000 
















+ 25,000 








+ 20,000 








+ 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 


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- 

"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 

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 . 


"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. 


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? 



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- 



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 


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. 


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- 

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. 


$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- 

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 


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 


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- 

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 

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 


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. 


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. 



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 

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 



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 


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. 


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. 


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- 

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" 


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- 

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 


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 

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 


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- 

University of Cincinnati 


Studies in Sophocles 


Professor of Greek 


Copyright, 1912, by- 
Joseph Edward Harry 



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., 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. 


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. 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<i iv rrj (Tcpayrj] 157 ciirocnrdaa'i Br) t?}? (7(^ayri<i 
Kol Tov TpavfjLaro'i i^eXcou to ^L(f)o<i, Appian, B. C. 2. 147 a(f)ayal 
T/3€49 Kal eoKoaiv a>(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} Ta<i i/xavrov a(f)ayd<;, 2.6; lO. 19; 
10.36, Libanius 54.19; 59.118, Declam. y.Z; 7.18, Lucian 1.31 ; 
1.274; 2.144; 2.147; 2.150; 2. 151; 2.153; 2.157; 2.294, Plu- 
tarch, Solon 20 hri (f>6v(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]<i eirX ttjv acfyayrfv to ^i(f>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 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<yri<i 
avTov ^dy^a'i to ^i<^09 . . . Kara rov fjLeTa(f>p€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. 


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 : 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. 



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. 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 ( For the phrase compare; 
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^. 


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 

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. 



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 (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 
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 




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 

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. 


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 FURENS {Ai. 137-147) 

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. 


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/ BoXepo<i arjp . . . KaTeve^axie, 
De hid. et Osu-. 79 OoXepov Kal tX-ucoSe?, De Tiienda San. Prae- 
cepta 12 P'T) vavTLa>Sr]<; 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 

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, 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. 

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> 




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. 

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 

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). 


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- 

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. 


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. 




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^ 

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 


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 



University of Cincinnati 




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. 


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 

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 

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 

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- 

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- 

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. 


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 

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 

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 

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 


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 

(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). 

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. 



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 

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) 



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 

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 

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 \\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 
(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- 



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 

(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 

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. 



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 


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 

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 

(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 

(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- 

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 
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 

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 

(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 

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 

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- 

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 

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' 

(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 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 

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 

(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 

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 

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 

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 

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.