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TRANSACTIONS OF THE 


CONNECTICUT ACADEMY OF ARTS AND SCIENCES 


INCORPORATED A. D. 1799 


VOLUME XIV 1908-10 





Publications 


of Yale University 


Aa ose 


PUBLISHED UNDER THE AUSPICES OF 


YALE UNIVERSITY 


NEW HAVEN, CONNECTICUT 


1910 


THE R. WAGNER SOHN PRESS 





OFFICERS FOR 1908-10. 


President, 


Hon. SIMEON E. BALDWIN. 


Vice- Presidents. 


Pror. ALEXANDER W. EVANS, Pror. CLIVE DAY, 
Pror. HANNS OERTEL. 


Secretary. 


Dr. GEORGE F. EATON, 


Treasurer. 


Mr. LEE McCLUNG. 


Librarian: 


Pror. JOHN CHRISTOPHER SCHWAB. 


Committee on Publication, 


Hon. S. E. BALDWIN, Chairman, Pror. A. W. EVANS, 
Pror. A. S. COOK, Pror. CLIVE DAY, 
Pror. E. 8. DANA, Pror. H. OERTEL, 
Pror. E. P. MORRIS, Pror. J. C. SCHWAB. 


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COMET TNS. 


ADDITIONS TO THE Liprary, APRIL 1, 1908 To AprIL 30, 1910 

Art. I.— On THE THEORY OF DOUBLE PRODUCTS AND STRAINS 
IN Hyperspace. By Epwin BIDWELL WILSON. 

Art. IJ.—Tue Morpuo.ocy or Ruppia Maritima. By ARTHUR 
HaRMOUNT GRAVES. : ; : 

Art. III.—SuppLemMent TO THE NEW ENGLAND SPIDERS. By 
J. H. Emerton. 

Art. IV.—THe Poems or Tuomas Tuirrp Lorp Farrrax. 
By Epwarp Buss REEp. ; ; 3 d 

ArT. V.—TuHE EncuisH Mora Pravs. By Evpsert N. S. 
THOMPSON. 

ArT. VI.—Tue AccentuaL Cursus in ByzaNTINE GREEK 
PROSE wiITH EspEcIAL REFERENCE TO PROocopIUS OF C&&- 


SAREA. By Henry Bronson DEwING. 


PAGE 
VII—X XXII 


1—57 


59—170 


171—236 


237--290 


291—413 


415—466 





ADDITIONS TO THE LIBRARY 


OF THE 
CONNECTICUT ACADEMY OF ARTS & SCIENCES 


By Girt and Excuance From Aprin 1, 1908, To Aprit 30, 1910. 


Atx-EN-Provence.— Université. 

Faculté des lettres. Annales III, 3-4. 1909. 
Avapama.—Department of Archives and History. 

Bulletin. I, 2. 1904. 

Circulars: 3, 6; (3s, 10-H. 
ALTENBURG, S.-A. Naturforschende Gesellschaft des Osterlandes. 

Mitteilungen aus dem Osterlande. I—XII, XIV, XVI, XVII, 

Se he Vink TX: 61857-1908. 

American Academy of Arts and Sciences. 

Memoirs, SNe Sa. & Oi) = Xe (iL, te. 2—3, IV, 4—5;. VI, 

ieee Ia) Chie — V1): 

Proceedings. XLIII, 15-XLV, 11. 1909-10. 
American Antiquarian Society. 

Proceedings. N.S., XIX—XX, 1. 1908—09. 

Salisbury Memorial: a Tribute from Yucatan. 1906. 
American Astronomer. 

Bulletin. II, 3. 1909. 
American Geographical Society. 

Bulletin. XL, 3—XLH, 2. 1908-10. 
American Museum of Natural History (New York). 

Bulletin. XXVI-XXVII. 1909. 

Reports. XL. 1908. 

American Museum Journal. VIII-—X, 2. 1908—10. 
American Philosophical Society. 

Proceedings. XLVIII, 191—93. 1909. 

Transactions. N.S. XXI (¥). 
Ames Botanical Laboratory. 

Contributions. 4, 6-8, 10. 1906-09. 

Ames, O. Orchidaceae, Fasc. I-III, 1905-08. 
AMHERST COLLEGE. 

Catalogue. 1908—09. 
Amiens.—Société Linnéenne du Nord de la France. 

Bulletin. XVIIT (1906-7), 369-80. 

Mémoires. XII. 1905-08. 

Académie des Sciences. 
Mémoires. XXXI-XXXIV. L-LV. 1884-1908. 


Vill Additions to the Library. 


AmsTERDAM.— Koninkl. Akademie van Wetenschappen. 
Jaarboek. 1907—08. 
Proceedings. Section of sciences. X, 1—XI, 2. 1808-09. 
Verhandelingen. Afd. Natuurkunde, Sectie I, Deel IX, 5—7, X,1; 
Sectie II, Deel XIII, 4—6, XIV, 1-4, XV, 1. 
Verslagen van de gewone vergaderingen van de wis- en natuur- 
kundige afdeeling. Deel XVI, 1-XVI, 2. 1908-09. 
Avuaspure.—Naturwissenschaftlicher Verein fiir Schwaben und Neuburg. 
Bericht. XXXVIII. 1908. 
Australasian Association for the Advancement of Science. 
Report of meeting. XI. 1907. 
Australian Museum (Sydney). 
Memoir. IV. 1909. 
Records. Vi, 1—VII, 8. 1908. 
Report. LITI—LV. 1907—09. 
Special Catalogue. No. I. Vol. II (Nests and eggs of birds by 
A. J. North.) 
Bamperc.—Naturforschende Gesellschaft. 
Bericht. XIX, XX. 1907. 
Basret.—Naturforschende Gesellschaft. 
Verhandlungen. Bd. XIX, 3—-XX, 2. 1908-10. 
Batavia.—Magnetical and Meteorological Observatory. 
Observations. Vol. XXIX and Append. I to vol. XXX. 1909. 
Regenswaarnemingen in Nederlandsch-Indié. Jaarg. XXIX 
—XXX. 190 7—08. 
Bemmelen, W. van. Rainfall in Java, 1908. 
Baylor University. 
Bulletin. XI, 3; XII, 1. 1908—09. 
Be.erum.—Académie Royale d’Archéologie de Belgique. 
Annales. LXI, 6e sér., T. I—Livr. 2-3. 1909. 
Bulletin. 1908, I1I—V. 1909, I-IV. 
BrErcEen.— Museum. 
Aarbog.' 1907, 2-3; 1908, 1—3; 1909, 1° 
Aarsberetning. 1907—08. 
Sars, G. O. Account of Crustacea of Norway. XVII—XXVI. 
1907—09. 
Beruin.—Konigl. Museum fiir Naturkunde. 
Bericht. 1907—08. 
Mitteilungen aus der zoologischen Sammlung. III, 4—IV, 2. 
1908—09. 
Bernice Pauahi Bishop Museum of Polynesian Ethnology and Natural History, 
Honolulu, 8. I. 
Occasional Papers. III, 2; IV, 3; V, 2. 
Memoirs. II, 3—4. 1909-10. 
Sharp, D., Fauna Hawaiiensis, III, part V. 1909. 


Additions to the Library. IX 


Botoena.—R. Accademia delle Scienze dell’Istituto di Bologna. 
Memorie. Classe di Scienze Morali. Sezione di Scienze Giuridiche 
Ser. I. Tomo IT, 1-2; II, 1. 1907-09. Sezione di Scienze 
Storico-Filologiche. Ser. I. Tomo IJ, 2; II, 1. 1907-09. 
Rendiconto. N. 8. Vol. XI—XII. 1906—08. 
Classe di Scienze Morali. Ser.I. Tomo TI, 2; II, 1-2. 1907-09. 
Bompay anp Aipac.—Government Observatories. 
Magnetical, meteorological and _ seismological observations. 
1902-05. 
Bompay.— Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society. 
Journal. No. LXIII. 1908. 
Bonn.—Naturhistorischer Verein der preussischen Rheinlande, Westfalens und 
des Regierungs-Bezirks Osnabriick. 
Sitzungsberichte der niederrheinischen Gesellschaft fiir Natur- 
und Heilkunde. 1907, 2—1909, 1. 
Verhandlungen. LXV, 1—LXVI,1. 1908-09. 
Borpraux.—Académie Nationale des Sciences, Belles-Lettres et Arts. 
Actes. 8esér. Année 67-69. 1905—07. 
Commission Météorologique de la Gironde. 
Observations pluviométriques et thermométriques. Juin, 1906 
ania 19072 1907,, Part LD. 
Société des Sciences Physiques et Naturelles. 
Mémoires. IV, 1-2. 
Proces-verbaux. Année. 1906—08. 
Bosron.—Museum of Fine Arts. 
Annual Report. XXXITI—XXXIV. 1908-09. 
Bulletin. No. 32-43. 1908-10. 
Society of Natural History. 
Occasional Papers. VII, 8-11. 1908-09. 
Proceedings. XXXIV, 2-8. 1908-10. 
Bravrorp.—Scientific Association. 
Journal. Jan., 1909 to Jan., 1910. 
BreMEN.— Meteorologisches Obvervatorium. 
Deutsches meteorologisches Jahrbuch. Jahrg. XVII—XIX, 
1907-08. 
Naturwissenschaftlicher Verein. 
Abhandlungen. Bd. XIX. 2-3 und Beilage. 1908-09. 
Bresiavu.—Schlesische Gesellschaft fiir vaterlindische Cultur. 
Jahres-Bericht. LXXXV—LXXXVI, 1907—08. 
Brighton and Hove Natural History and Philosophical Society. 
Annual Report and Abstract of Papers. 1899--1909. 
Bristou.— Naturalists’ Society. 
Proceedings, 4th Ser. I, 1-3 and index; IJ, 1-2. 1905-09. 
Brooxtyn.— Museum of the Brooklyn Institute of Arts and Sciences. 
Cold Spring Harbor Monographs. VII. 1909. 
Museum News. IV, 5; V, 5. 1909-10. 


x Additions to the Library. 


Brookiyn. Science Bulletin. I, 10-16. 1907—09. 
Year Book. 1897/8—1900/1, 1904—05, 1906—07. 
Briinn.—Naturforschender Verein. 
Bericht der meteorologischen Commission. XXV. 1907. 
Ergebnisse der phaenologischen Beobachtungen aus Mahren 
und Schlesien im Jahre 1905. 
Verhandlungen. Vol. XLV—XLVI. 1906--07. 
Brunswick.— Verein fiir Naturwissenschaft. 
Jahresbericht. JI—XV. 
BruxELLEs.— Académie Royale des Sciences, des Lettres et des Beaux-Arts de 
Belgique. 
Bulletins. Classe des Sciences. 1907, 9—1909, 8. 
Annuaire. LXXIV—LXXV. 1908-09. 
Mémoires de la Classe des Sciences. 2e Sér. Tome I. Fasc. V; 
If. Base, 1; LV, <V, in: Sve= TT. asc: iT ine 4a 
Notices. 1907-09, 5e ed. 
Observatoire Royale de Belgique. 
Annales Astronomiques. X, XI*, XII*. 1907-09. 
Annales. Nouv. sér., Annales météorologiques. XX, Fasc. IV, 
C1&2 
Annales (Physique du globe). IV, 1-2. 1909. 
Annuaire Astronomique. 1909, 1910. 
Annuaire Métérologique. 1908—09. 
Société Entomologique de Belgique. 
Annales. Tome LI—LII. 1908-09. 
Mémoires. XV—XVII. 1908—09. 
Société Royale de Botanique. 
Bulletin. XLIV, 1-3 & annexe; XLV, 1-3. 1907-08. 
Société Royale Belge de Géographie. 
Bulletin. XXXII, 1-6; XXXIV. 5. 1908-09. 
Société Royale Zoologique et Malacologique. 
Annales. XLI-—XLIII. 1906-08. 
Société Scientifique de Bruzelles. 
Annales. XXXII, 2, and 2 supplements ; XXXII]. 1-—XXXIV. 1. 


1907-10. 
La Revue des Questions Scientifiques. 3erér. XIV, 5-XVI, 1. 
1908-09. 


Bucarest.—Observatorul Astronomic si Meteorologic. 
Bulletin lunar. Annul XVII—XVIII. 1908--09. 
Société des Sciences. 
Bulletin.” Vil, 712; TLE, b=64) Val= Vase OX SO 
S-X VIE, 1 ©61894—1909: 
Bupapest.—Academia Scientiarum Hungaricarum. 
Mathematische und naturwissenschaftliche Berichte aus Ungarn. 
KXI—X XU 1903-06. 
Rapport sur les travaux. 1899-1908. 


Additions to the Library. XI 


Buparest.—Kinigl. Ungarische Reichsanstalt fiir Meteorologie und Erdmagne- 
tismus. 
Bericht. VIII. 1907. 
Jahrbiicher. XXXVI. 1906. 
Bibliothek, Verzeichnis erworbener Biicher. VII. 1908. 
Officielle Publikation, VII—VIII. 1909. 
Buenos Arres.—Direccion General de Estadistica. 
Boletin mensual. VII, 69—X, 107. 1906—02. 
Deutscher Akademischer Verein. 
Veréffentlichungen. 1899—04. 
Deutscher Wissenschaftlicher Verein. 
Stépel, K. T. Reise in das Innere der Insel Formosa. 1905. 
Museo Nacional. 
Anales. Ser. 3. IX—-X. 1908—09. 
Sociedad Cientifica Argentina. 
Anales. LXIIT, 4-—LXIII, 6. 1907—09. 
Burraio.—Society of Natural Sciences. 
Bulletin, EX, 1—3: 1908-09. 
Report. 1887, 1895—98. 
Burton-on-Trent.—Natural History and Archeological Society. 
Transactions. V, 2. 1909. 
Carn.—Société Linnéenne de Normandie. 
Bulletin. 5e. sér. X; 6e sér. I. 1906—09. 
Caxcutta.—Asiatic Society of Bengal. 
Journal and Proceedings. III,5—10; IV, 1-11 and extra number 
1907-09. 
Memoirs. II, 5-11. 1909. 
Historical Society. 
Annual report. 1909. 
Journal V (no. 10). 1910. 
California Academy of Sciences. 
Proceedings. III, 41—56. 4th Ser. 
CamprinGrE (England).— Philosophical Society. 
Proceedings. XIV, 5-6; XV, 1—4. 1908-10. 
Transactions, Xx, 11-165 XX 1907-02: 
Canapna.—Geological Survey. 
Preliminary Report on: Portion of main coast of British Co- 
lumbia, 1908; Part of Similameen District, 1907; Cowganda 
mining division, 1909. 
Reports on: Portion of Conrad & Whitehorse mining districts, 
Yukon, 1908; Discovery of gold at Notre-Dame de la Salette, 
1908; Descriptive sketch of the geology, 1909. 
Summary Report. Department of mines. 1906, 1908. 
Annual Report. XVI, 1904; Index, 1885—1906. 
Annual Report. Department of Mines, Mines branch. 1906. 
Maps. 973, 980, 981, 1026, 1035, 1041, 1044—49, 1050, 1059, 1073. 


XII Additions to the Library. 


Canapa. Plans. 622, 642—43, 645—46, 648-50, 666, 701, 709, 721, 740, 
765, 768, 773, 832, 843-44, 937, 995, 1012. 
Sheets. 11 (2), 39, 40-41, 49, 53-55, 66—71, 73, 100—01. 
Meteorological Service, Monthly Weather Review. XXXII, 5— 
XXXII, 10. 1908-09. 
Six miscellaneous reports. 1906—07. 
Minister of the Interior. 
Canada’s fertile northland, ed. by E. J. Chambers, Ottawa. 1908. 
Canadian Institute. 
Transactions. VIII, 2-3. 
Caradoc and Severn Valley Field Club. 
List of members. 1896, 1906, 1910. 
iDransactions: . ,ae3) 4° Tilo: 
Record of bare facts. 1893-1908. 
CasseL.— Verein fiir Naturkunde. 
Abhandlungen. XLVIII—LI. 
Caranta.—Accademia Gioenia di Scienze Natural. 
Bolletino delle Sedute. Ser. II, 1-10. 1907-09. 
Societa degli Spettroscopisti Italiani. 
Memorie. XXXVI-XXXVIII. 1908—09. 
Cellule (La). XXIV, 2-XXYV, 2. 1907—09. 
CHELTENHAM.--Natural Science Society. 
Proceedings. New Ser. I, 1-3. 1907—09. 
Cuemnitz.— Naturwissenschaftliche Gesellschaft. 
Bericht. IX, XI, XVI, 1884—1907. 
CuERBOURG.—Société Nationale des Sciences Naturelles. 
Mémoires. XXXVI. 1909. 
Cuicaco.—Academy of Sciences. 
Bulletin. III, 1-3. 1910. 
Special Publications. 2. 1908. 
Field Museum of Natural History. 
Publications. 127—41. 1910. 
Curistiania. — Videnskabs Selskabet. 
Forhandlinger. 1907—08. 
Cuur.—Naturforschende Gesellschaft Graubtindens. 
Jahresbericht. Neue Folge. LX—LXI. 1907—09. 
Crncinnati.— Lloyd Mycological Museum. 
Bulletin. 3, 6, 9, 11. 1907—09. 
Report, II. 1895-1906. 
Museum Association. 
Annual Report. XXVIII, XXVIII. 1907—08. 
Book list. I,°2. 1908. 
Society of Natural History. 
Journal. XO, 1: 
University. 
Record. III, 4—VI, 4. 1907-10. 


Additions to the Library. XII 


Cincinnati. University Studies. 2d.Ser. II, 3-4; III,1,4; IV, 1—4; V, 
1—4. 1906—09. 
Observatory, Publications. 16, 1899-1906. 
Colorado College. 
Publications. General Series. 24, 26, 29-33, 36-37, 39, 42, 44, 
45. 1907-09. 
Colorado Scientific Society. 
Proceedings. IX, 21—344. 1908—10. 
Cotorapo.— University of. 
Studies. V, 2—VII, 2. 1908-10. 
Connecticut Historical Society. 
Annual Report. 1908-09. 
CopENHAGEN.—L’ Académie Royale des Sciences et des Lettres de Danemark. 
Bulletin (Oversigt). 1907, 5—1909, 5. 
Naturhistoriske Forening. 
Videnskabelige Meddelelser. 1907—08, 
Corpoya (Argentine).—Academia Nacional de Ciencias. 
Boletin. XVIII, 3. 
Coruna.— Real Academia Gallega. 
Boletin. I—V, 34, 1906—10. 
Cracow.— Akademija Umiejetnosci. 
K. K. Sternwarte. Meteorologische Beobachtungen. Oct., 1906—Feb., 
1910. 
Resultate der meteorologischen Beobachtungen. 1908-09, 
Danzic.—Naturforschende Gesellschaft. 
Schriften. Neue Folge. Bd. XII, 3. 1908. 
Westpreussischer Botanisch-Zoologischer Verein. 
Bericht. XXX, 1908. 
Davenport, 1a.—Academy of Sciences. 
Proceedings. XII, 95—222. 1909. 
Denison UNIVERSITY. 
Bulletin of the Scientific Laboratories. XIV, 1—XV. p- 100. 
1908-10. 
Derroir.— Museum of Art. 
Annual Report. 1908-09. 
Bulletin. III, 1—IV, 1. 1909. 
Dorpat.—Naturforscher-Geselischaft bei der Universitit Dorpat. 
Schriften. XIX. 1909. 
Sitzungsberichte. XVI, 2—XVIII, 1. 1907-09. 
Gelehrte Estnische Gesellschaft. 
Sitzungsberichte. 1906—08. 
DrespvEN.— Naturwissenschaftliche Gesellschaft Isis. 
Sitzungsberichte und Abhandlungen. Juli, 1907—Juni 1909. 
Dusuin.— Royal Dublin Society. 
Economic Proceedings. I, 12-16 and Index. 1908-09. 


XIV Additions to the Library. 


Dupuy, Scientific Proceedings. New. ser. XI, 21-32; XII, 1-23. 
Scientific Transactions. Ser. II. IX. 1-9. 1909. 
Royal Irish Academy. 
Proceedings. XXVII, B, 1-8; C, and appendix. 1908. 
Dourcna East Inpies.— K. Natuurkundige Vereeniging. 
Natuurkundige tijdschrift. LXVII-—LXVIII. 1908-09. 
EpixnsurGx.— Botanical Society. 
Transactions and Proceedings. XXIII, 3—XXIV, 1. 1908-10. 
Geological Society. 
Transactions. IX, 2-4, 1908-09. 
Royal Observatory. 
Annals. Vol. II. 1906. 
Royal Physical Society. 
Proceedings. XVII, 4—XVIII, 1. 1907-10. 
coyal Society. 
Proceedings. XXVIII. 3. XX XX.4, 1908-10. 
ELBERFELD.— Naturwissenschaftlicher Verein. 
Jahresbericht. IV—XI und Beilage. 1863-1906. 
Elisha Mitchell Scientific Society. 
Journal. XXIIT, 4-XXV, 2. 1908-09. 
Empen.— Naturforschende Gesellschafe. 
Jahresbericht. XCI-—XCIII. 1905-08. 
Errurt.—Konigl. Akademie gemeinniitziger Wissenschaften. 
Jahrbticher. Neue Folge. Heft XXXTI—XXXIV. 1908. 
Essex Institute. 
Annual Report. 1908-09, 
FiLoreNce, Iraty.—Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale. 
Bolletino delle Pubblicazioni Italiane. 88-109. 1908-10. 
Frankrorp, Pa.— Historical Society. 
Papers L ial 0609: 
Frankrurt a. M.— Deutsche Malakozoologische Gesellschaft. 
Nachrichtsblatt. XL, 2—XLIJ, 1. 1908-10. 
Senckenbergische Naturforschende Gesellschaft. 
Abhandlungen. XXIX, 3; XXX, 4. 1908-09. 
Bericht. 1908. 1909. 
Festschrift zur Erinnerung an die Eréffnung des neuerbauten 
Museums. 1907. 
Verein fiir Geographie und Statistik. 
Jahresbericht I-LXVII, LXX—LXXII. 1836-1908. 
FRANKFURT A. O.—Naturwissenschaftlicher Verein Helios. 
Abhandlungen und Mitteilungen aus dem Gesamtgebiete der 
Naturwissenschaften. XXIV, XXV. 1908. 
Franklin Institute. 
Journal. CLXV, 1—CLXIX, 2. 1908-10. 
FreipurG i. B.—Naturforschende Gesellschaft. 
Berichte: + MOVIL, 1908-09. 


Additions to the Library. XV 


GeNEVA.—Institut national genevois. 
Mémoires. XIX. 1901-09. 
Société de Physique et d'Histoire Naturelle. 
Mémoires. Tome XXXV, 4-XXXVI, 1. 1908—09. 
Genoa.— Museo Civico di Storia Naturale. 
Annali. Ser. 3. ITI. 1907—08. 
GrrMany.— Kais. Leopoldinisch-Carolinische deutsche Akademie der Natur- 
forscher. (Halle a. 8.) 
Leopoldina. XLITI-—XLIV. 1907-08. 
Abhandlungen. LXXXVIII, 3—XC, 1. 1909. 
GiESsEN.— Oberhessische Gesellschaft fiir Natur- und Heilkunde. 
Bericht. Neue Folge. Medizinische Abteilung. IJI—IV. 1908. 
Naturwissenschaftliche Abteilung. II. 1907—08. 
Guascow.— Natural History Society. 
Transactions. Newser. IV, 1. VIII, 1. 1892-1904; 1905—06. 
Journal L. I-47_ 1908-09. 
Royal Philosophical Society. 
Proceedings. XXXVIII—XL. 1906—09. 
Goéruitz.—Naturforschende Gesellschaft. 
Abhandlunger. V, 1; VIII, XI, XXVI. 
GoérrBpora.— Kon. Vetenskaps och Vitterhets Samhiille. 
Handlingar. 4de fdlj. Haft. X—XI. 1901—08. 
GOTTINGEN.— Konigl. Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften. 
Nachrichten. Geschiaftliche Mitteilungen. 1908, 1—1909, 2. 
Philosophisch-historische Klasse. 1908, 1-1909, 2. 
Graz.—Naiurwissenschaftlicher Verein fiir Steiermark. 
Mitteilungen. XLV, 1—2. 1908. 
Haartem.—Musée Teyler. 
Archives. Sér. Il. XI,.2—8. 1908-09. 
Société Hollandaise des Sciences. 
Archives néerlandaises. Sér. Il. XII, 3-XV, 5. 1908-09. 
Harnaut.—Société des Sciences, des Arts et de Leitres. 
Mémoires. Sér:-VI, VIII—X. 1906-09. 
Hampure.— Deutsche Seewarte. 
Aus dem-Archiy. ~ Jahre: Kee 2 eX. Fe RX KIT Th 
1907—09. 
Deutsches meteorologisches Jahrbuch. XXIX—XXXI. 1906-08. 
Katalog der Bibliothek. Nachtrag. VIII. 1907-08. 
Annalen der Hydrographie und maritimen Meteorologie. XXXVI, 
5K XVII, 3: 1908—10; 
Jahresbericht. 1907-08. 
Naturwissenschaftlicher Verein. 
Verhandlungen. 3te Folge. XV—XVI. 1907-08. 
Naturwissenschaftliche Gesellschaft. 
Jahresbericht. LVII. 1906-07. 


XVI Additions to the Library. 


Harvard College.—Astronomical Observatory. 
Annual Report. LXIII. LXIV. 1909. 
Annals. Ii; I, 2; LV, 2; UV, 4; LVGt, to 4; ERX) 2resee 
JED SVEN OO 2) Dp. AT a is 1p -C Le IPO. 
Circulars. No. 186—152. 
Museum of Comparative Zodlogy. 
Annual Report. 1908—09. 
Memoirs. XXXIV, 2-3; XXXVI, 1; XXXVII, 1, 3; XXXVITI, 
1. 1908-09. 
Bulletin. LE, 11-12; Lil, 1-7; 10-14; LEW 1G ey 
1908—09. 
Bulletin. Geological Series. VIII, 7, 9. 1908—09. 
Havana.— Real Colegio de Belen. 
Observaciones meteorolégicas y magnéticas. 1907—08. 
Havre.—Société géologique de Normandie. 
Bulletin. XXVI-XXVIII. 1907—08. 
HEtsinGrors.—Societas Scientiarum Fennica. 
Meteorologisches Jahrbuch fiir Finland. II. 1902. 
Observations publiées par l'Institut Météorologique Central. 
1896—98. 1901. 
Acta. XXXIJI—XXXIV. 1906-08. 
Bidrag till kinnedom af Finlands natur och folk. Haft 61—66. 
1901—08. 
Ofversigt af forhandlingar. XLVIJI—L. 1905—08. 
Societas pro Fauna et Flora Fennica. |. 
Acta XXIV, XXIX—XXXII. 1904-09. 
Meddelanden. XXXIII—XXXV. 1906—09. 
Hermannstant. — Siebenbiirgischer Verein fiir Naturwissenschaften. 
Verhandlungen und Mitteilungen. LVIII. 1908. 
Iuuinois.—State Laboratory of Natural History. 
Bulletin. VII, 1-10. 1907-09. 
Inpia.—Imperial Department of Agriculture. 
Annual Report. 1905—07. 
Report on Progress of Agriculture. 1907—09. 
Memoirs. Botanical series. II, 38, 5-8. 1908—09. 
Memoirs. Chemical series. I, 6—7. 1908-09. 
Memoirs. Entomological series. I, 6—II, 7. 1908. 
Agricultural Research Institute (Pusa). Report. 1907—09. 
Geological Survey of India. 
Memoirs. XXXIV, 4; XXXVI, 2; XXXVII, 1-3. 1908—10. 
Records. XXXVIII, 2-3. 1909. 
Paleontologia Indica. Ser. XV, V, 1-2; N. 8. Il, 4-5; II, 
vom 20809. 
Meteorological Department of the Government of India. 
Indian meteorological memoirs. XVIII, 2, 4; XIX, 1; XX, 
2-0 MXIT 1, 1908—09! 


Additions to the Library. XVII 


Inpra. Monthly weather review. Feb., 1907 to Nov., 1909. 
India weather review. Annual summary. 1906-08. 
Rainfall of India. XVI-—XVIII. 1906-08. 
Report on administration. 1908—09. 
Board of Scientific Advice. 
Annual report. 1906-09. 
Indian Museum.—Records. I, 1—III. 4. 1907-09. 
Memoirs. I, 4 and index; I. 1-3. 1909. 
Annotated list of Asiatic beetles. I. 1909. 
Echinodermata, V. Asteroidea. I. 1909. 
Inpiana.—Academy of Science. 
Proceedings. 1907—08. 
Constitution. 1887. 1889. 
Towa.—Academy of Sciences. 
Proceedings. XIV—XV. 1907—08. 
State University. 
Studies in Psycholoy. II. 1899. 
Trevanp.—Pharmaceutical Society. 
Calendar. XXXIV. 1910. 
Iraty.— Reale Comitato geologico d’ Italia. 
Bolletino. 1907, 1—1910, 1. 
Jenaische Zeitschrift fiir Naturwissenschaft. XXXVI, 3-XXXVIII, 2. 
1908-09. 
John Crerar Library. 
Annual Report. XIII—XIV. 1907-08. 
List of books exhibited. Dec. 30, 1907—Dec., 1909. 
Johns Hopkins University. 
Circular. 1908, 2—1910, 3. 
Journal of Comparative Neurology and Psychology. 
Vol. XVIII, 1-4. 1907. 
Kansas.— University of Kansas. 
Bulletin. IX, 5. 1908. 
Academy of Science. 
Transactions. .XXIT. 1908. 
Kasan.—Société Physico-mathématique de Université Impériale. 
Bulletin. Sér. IT. XV, 4—XVI, 2. 1906—08, 
Kuarxorr.—Société des Sciences Physico-Chimiques. 
Travaux. XXXI—XXXV; Suppl. fase. XVII, XIX—XXI. 1903 
=O. 
Kue.i.— Kommission zur wissenschaftlichen Untersuchung der deutschen Meere. 
Wissenschaftliche Meeresuntersuchungen, Abt. Kiel. N. F. 
ea: 10, 2; TEP=xX) und! Broeskh. VELL, & X: 
Naturwissenschaftlicher Verein fiir Schleswig-Holstein. 
Schriften. Bd. XIV, 1-2. 1908-10. 
Kénigl. Christian-Albrechts- Universitat. 
Chronik. 1906-09. 


1a! 


XVIUI Additions to the Library. 


Kirt. Verzeichnis der Vorlesungen. 1906—09. 
Dissertations. 1907—09. 
Kirv.—Sociéte des Naturalistes. 
Mémoires. Tome XX, 3. 1908. 
Kopatksnau.— Observatory. 
Bulletin. 12-18. 1908—09: 
Annual Report. 1907. 
Memoirs. I, 1. 1909. 
KorniesBerG, i. Pr.— Physikalisch-dkonomische Gesellschaft. 
Schriften. XLVIII. 1907. 
Kyoro. —Imperial University, College of Science and Engineering. 
Memoirs. I, 4. 1908. 
La Puata.—Archivios de Pedagogia y Ciencias Afines. IV,10—16 1908-09. 
Museo. 
Anales. Ser. II, I. 1908. 
Revista, XI, 1-2 XPV 1 XV, 25 XVioS. 1905—0g: 
La RocHEe,tte.—Académie. Sections des Sciences Naturelles. 
Annales. XXXYV. 1906—07. 
Flore de France. X—XI. 1907—08. 
Lavsanne.—Société Vaudoise des Sciences Naturelles. 
Bulletin. 5¢. sér. XII, 70, 1873; XLT, lel [xXaVveeias: 
1907-09. 
Leipen.— Nederlandsche Dierkundige Vereeniging. 
Aanwinsten der Bibliotheek. I. 1906-07. 
Tijdschrift. Ser. II. Deel X, 4—XI, 2. 1908-09. Register. 
1875-1908. 
Leipzic.—Kénigl. Stchsische Gesellschaft der Wissenschajten. 
Berichte. Mathematisch-physische Klasse. LIX, 4; LX, 1-8; 
EX 3S LIOt 09: 
Fiirstl. Jablonowskische Gesellschaft. 
Jahresbericht. 1908. 
Naturforschende Gesellschaft. 
Sitzungsberichte. 1899-1906. 
Verein fur Erdkunde. 
Mitteilungen. 1906. 190%. 
LemBere.— Société Royale des Sciences. 
Mémoires. Sér. HI. VII—VIII. 1907. 1909. 
Math.-Naturw.-Aerztl. Section. Sammelschrift. XII. 1908. 
Linz. — Museum Francisco-Carolinum. 
Jahresbericht. 3, 5—7, 11, 20, 21, 29, 33, 35, 37, 38, 40, 42, 43, 
46—68. 
Lispon.—Sociedade de Geographia. 
Boletim. Serie XXVI, 1—XXVII, 2. 1908-09. 
Memorias do Ultramar. Viagens, exploracoes e conquistas dos 
Portuguezes, por Luciano Cordeiro. 
Leite de Vasconcellos, J., Estudos de philologica. I—II. 1901. 


Additions to the Library. XIX 


Lisson. Sa, A. de. Frei Goncalo Velho. I-—II. 1900. 
Esteves Pereira, F. M., Chronica de Susenyos. rei de Ethiopia. 
TST 1892: 
Sessao solemne. 16 May, 1898. 
Sixty one miscellaneous monographs. 
Lonpon.—Geological Society. 
Geological Literature added to the Library. 1908. 
Quarterly Journal. LXIII, 1-LXV, 260. 1907-09. 
Linnean Society. 
Journal. Zodlogy. 197-200, 204-06. 1907—09. 
Journal. Botany. 265-71. 1908-09. 
List. 1908—10. 
Proceedings. CXX—-CXXI. 1908-09. 
Royal Geographical Society. 
Grenfell, G. Upper Congo (map). 1902. 
Grundy, G. B. Battle of Platza. 1894. 
Guenther, R. T. Bibliography of topographical and geological 
works on the Phlegrzan Fields, 1908. 
McCarthy, J. Surveying and exploring in Siam. 1900. 
Merzbacher, G. Central Tian-Shan Mountains. 1905. 
Murray, G. & Markham, C. R. Antarctic manual for 1901. 
Murray, J. & Pullar, L. Bathymetrical survey of the fresh 
water lochs of Scotland. 1908. 
’ Murray, J. & Peake, R. E. Floor of the Atlantic Ocean. 1904. 
Peake, R. E. Deep-sea sounding expedition in the North At- 
lantic. 1901. 
Selection of papers on arctic geography and ethnology (re- 
printed). 1875. 
Smyth, H. W. The Upper Mekong, Siam. 1895. 
Stein, M. A. Mountain panoramas from the Pamirs and Kwen 
Lun. 1908. | 
Royal Society. 
Philosophical Transactions. Series A. 128-60. 1908—09. 
Series B. 260-72. 1908—09. 
Proceedings. Series A. 538-62. 1908—10. 
Series B. 537-54. 1908-10. 
Royal Microscopical Society. 
Journal. 1908, 2—1909, 6. 
Royal Geographical Society. 
Geographical Journal. XXXI, 5-XXXV. 2. 1908-10. 
Karakorum Himalayas by W. M. Conway. I—II. 1892. 
Mathematical Society. 
Proceedings. VI-—VIII, 2. 1908-10. 
List of members. 1908. 
Louistana.—State Board of Agriculture and Immigration. 
Gulf Biological Station. 


Il* 


XX Additions to the Library. 


Lovrstana. Bulletin. 8, 13, 14. 
Lucca.—R. Accademia Lucchese di Scienze, Lettere ed Arti. 
Atti, XXXITT. 1907. 
Lunp.— Kongl. Carolinska Universitet. 
Atctan UN, ESV, A Vial, 2506 08: 
Luxempoure.—Institut Grand-Ducal. 
Archives trimestr. N.S. II-III. 1907-08. 
Lyons.—Société d’ Agriculture, Sciences et Industrie. 
Annales. 1907-08. 
Université. 
Annales. Science-Médecine. N.S. I, 22-24. 1908. 
Société des Amis de l'Université. XX, 1-2; XXI, 1-6; XXII, 
1—7;  1S07—09; 
Manprip.— Observatorio Astronomico. 
Anvario. 1909-10. 
R. Academia de Ciencias exactas, fisicas y naturales. 
Memorias. XXVI. 1908. 
Revistaeo VIE I—ViLT 33.6, 1908 —10: 
Rk. Academia de la Historia. 
Cortes de los antiguos reinos de Aragon. XII. 1908. 
Boletin. XLIV, 1; LI, 3. 1904—08. 
Memorial historico espaol. XXXVII-—XLIII. 1898-1905. 
Maaprsure.—Naturwissenschaftlicher Verein. 
Jahresbericht, III, V, VII, TX, 1872-82. 
Jahresbericht und Abhandlungen. 1886-1907. (14 numbers.) 
Festschrift. 25. 1894. 
Museum fiir Natur- und Heimatkunde 
Abhandlungen und Berichte. I, 1-4. 1909. 
Mancuester (England).—Geographical Society. 
Journal. XXVI. 1909. 
Literary and Philosophical Society. 
Memoirs and Proceedings. LII, 2—LIV, 1. 1907-09. 
University. 
Publications. Anatomical series, I, 1906 ; Historical series, I—V1, 
VIII, 1904-09; Medical series, I—VII, X—XII, 1904-09; 
Physical series, I, 1906. 
Owen’s College. Studies in Anatomy, I, 1900; Studies from 
the Biological Laboratory, IV, 1899; Studies from the Physical 
and Chemical Laboratories, I, 1893. 
Mancuester, N. H.—Institute of Arts and Sciences. 
Proceedings. “lV j25 1909: 
Marsure.—Gesellschaft zur Beforderung der gesamten Naturwissenschaften. 
Sitzungsberichte. 1907-08. 
MEcKLENBURG.— Verein der Freunde der Naturgeschichte in Mecklenburg. 
Archiv. (ike, 2—L XT oot —09: 


Additions to the Library. XXI 


Mexsourne.—National Museum. 
Memoirs. 2. 1908. 
Merz.— Académie. 
Mémoires. XXXIV—-XXXV. 1904—06; Table générale. 1819-— 
1903. 
Mexico.—Instituto Geoldgico de México. 
Boletin. 17, 24. 26. 1908. 
Parergones. IL, 1—IU, 2. 1908-09. 
Instituto Médico Nacional. 
Anales. VIII—X. Oct., 1906—May, 1908. 
Observatorio Astronémico Nacional de Chapultepec. 
Anuario. Tome XXIX—XXX. 1909-10. 
Observatorio Meteorologico Central. 
Boletin mensual. Nov., 1907—April, 1909. 
Observatorio de Tacubaya y Guajimalpa. 
Observaciones meteorologicas. Afio de 1909. 
Sociedad Cientifica “Antonio Alzate.” 
Memorias y revista. XXV, 9, 12; XXVI, 1-XXVII, 3. 1908— 
09. 
Micutean, University of. 
Field Studies in Botany. University Bulletin. N.S. VII, 5, 
OO lee LS, 
Micuican.— Academy of Sciences. 
Report. XI. 1909. 
MippELBuRG.— Zeewwsch Genootschap der Wetenschappen. 
Archief. 1908. 1909. 
Mitan.— Real Istituto Lombardo di Scienze e Lettere. 
Rendiconto. Serie II. XL, 16—XLII, 15. 1908-09. 
Reale Osservaterio di Brera. 
Publicazioni. XL, 2. 1908. 
Societa Italiana di Scienze Naturali. 
Atti. XLVI, 1—XLVIII, 3. 1908—09. 
Strambio, G. Jr. La pellagra. 1890. 
Mitwavkree.— Public Museum. 
Annual Report. I, V, VII-XVI. 1883-1908. 
Missourt.— Botanical Garden. 
Annual Report. XIX—XX. 1908-09. 
University of Missouri. 
Law’s Observatory. Bulletin. 138-16. 1908. 
Mopena.—R. Accademia delle Scienze, Lettere et Arti. 
Memorie. Ser. II. Tome XII. 
pers [ET Tome Vien: 
Societa dei Naturalisti e Matematici. 
Atti. Rendiconti. Ser. IV, vol. VII—X. 1905-08. 
Mo.pavtein.— Export- Verein fiir Bihmen. 
Jahresbericht. XV. 1906. 


XXII Additions to the Library. 


Monaco.—Institut Océanographique. 
Annales. I, 1. 1910. 
Montana.—College of Agriculture and Mechanical Arts. 
Bulletin. V, 3. 1908. 
Agricultural Experiment Station (Bozeman). 
Annual report. XIV, XV. 1907-08. 
Bulletin. 69, 71—74, 76. 1908-09. 
University (Missoula). 
Bulletin. 46, 50-51, 54, 58. 1908-09; Geological ser. 8, 11-13; 
Psychological ser. 1. 1908. 
MonteEvipE0.— Museo Nacional. 
Anales. Tome IV, 1. 1909. 
Observatorio Nacional Fisico-Climatolégico. 
Boletin. VI, 55—60, 62, 64, 66, 69-72. 1908—09. 
MontTPELLiER.—Académie des Sciences et Lettres. 
Mémoires. Section des lettres. Sér. II. V, 1. 1908. 
Section des sciences. Sér. II. III, 8. 1908. 
Section de médecine. Sér. II. IJ, 3. 1907. 
Bulletin mensual. 1907, 3-7; 1910, 3. 
Moscow.—Konigl. Universitdt, Meteorologisches Observatorium. 
Beobachtungen. 1905—07. 
Société Impériale des Naturalistes. 
Bulletin. 1—4. 1907. 
Municu.—Konigl. Bayerische Akademie der Wissenschaften. 
Sitzungsberichte. Mathematisch-physikalische Klasse. 1908. 
1331909. 1=14. 
Philosophisch-historische Klasse. 1908. 1—11. 
Abhandlungen. Mathematisch-physikalische Klasse. Suppl. I. 1 
=) XT eS ROY 2 90809. 
Phil.-hist. Klasse. XXIII. 3; XXDV5 Si keg@ye 
ie 51909; 
Konigl. Sternwarte. 
Neue Annalen IV und Supplementheft. I. 1907-10. 
Minster, i. W.— Westfdlischer Provinzial- Verein fiir Wissenschaft und Kunst. 
Jahresbericht. XXXV—XXXVII. 1906—09. 
Mycological Notes. 
27-28. Polyporoid issue, I. 1907—08. 
Nancy.—Académie de Stanislas. 
Mémoires. 6e sér. V, 1907-08. 
Napies.—R. Istituto d’Incoraggiamento alle Scienze Naturali. 
Atti.. Ser. VI. LIX—LX. 1907—08. 
R. Universita. 
Annuario del Museo Zoologico. N.S. Vol. II, 17-27. 1908. 
Centenario della cattedra di Zoologia. 1806—1906. 1907. 
R. Accademia di Scienze Morali e Politiche. 
Atti. Vol. XXXVIII. 1909. 


Additions to the Library. XXII 


Napies. Rendiconto. XLV—XLVII. 1906-08. 
R. Accademia delle Scienze Fisiche e Matematiche. 
Rendiconto. Ser. III. XIV, 1-12; XV, 1-7. 1909. 
Att. Ser, Ti. Xi—Xiv. .1908=09. 
Natat.—Government Museum (Pietermaritzburg). 
Annals. I, Index; II, 1. 1909. 
National Academy of Sciences (Washington). 
Biographical Memoirs. VI. 1910. 
National Physical Laboratory (Teddington). 
Collected researches. II—V. 
Report. 1908. 
Naturae Novitates. 
nS To I iy oa SOS Fee aS 
Nepraska.— Academy of Science. 
Publications. VIII, 3. 1907. 
Nevcnatet.—Société Neuchateloise des Sciences Naturelles. 
Bulletin. XXXIII. 1904-05; XXXV. 1907-08. 
Académie.— Recueil de Travaux, Faculté des lettres, 2-4. 1907-08, 
New Brunswicr, N. S.—Natural History Society. 
Ballets OCVIE. Vin I—2- 1908-10, 
New Sovran Wates.—Linnean Society. 
Proceedings. Ser. II. XXXII, 4-XXXIV, 2. 1907—09. 
Royal Society. 
Journal and Proceedings. XLI. XLIII. 1. 1907-08. 
New Yorx.—Academy of Sciences. 
Annals. XVIII, 2—XIX, 1. 1908-09. 
Directory. 1907-10. 
Botanical Garden. 
Bulletin. Vi, 18, 19,-20; VII, 24. 1908-10. 
Microscopical Society. 
sourpaley Ox. IMT. Db S=X1LV «1 XV. 2) exe 13? 
Public Library. 
Bulletin. XII, 4—XVI, 3. 1908-10. 
State Museum. 
Annual/Report. LX, 1-6; LXI, 1—4. 1907-08. 
Memorrss-aV = Vil 2. Vili > Wa he Ee ee Ke 
New Zraranp.— Institute. 
Transactions and proceedings. N. 8. XL—XLI. 1908-09, 
Newcaste-upon-Tyne.— North of England Institute of Mining and Mechanical 
Engineers. 
Transactions. LVII, 7; LVIII, 3; LIX, 3-8. 1908—09. 
Subject-matter index of mining, mechanical and metallurgical 
literature for 1902. 
Annual report of the council. 1908—09. 
Norfolk and Norwich Naturalists’ Society. 
Transactions. VII—VIII. 5. 


XXIV Additions to the Library. 


Nortu Daxora.—Geological Survey. 
Biennial report. II—V. 1901-08. 
State Historical Society. 
Collections. I—II. 1906—08. 
Nova Scorra.—Department of Mines. 
Report. 1907—09. 
NuremBera.—Naturhistorische Gesellschaft. 
Abhandlungen. XVII und Beigabe 1909. 
Mitteilungen. 1907, 1—6; 1908, 1. 
Oberlin College. 
Laboratory Bulletin. 14-15. 1909. 
Oprssa.—Société des Natwralistes de la Nouvelle- Russie. 
Mémoires. XXX—XXXITII. 1907—09. 
Ou10.—State Academy of Science. 
Proeeedings. V, 2—5. 1908-10. 
Geological Survey. 
Bulletin. 8-9. 1908. 
Ox.aHoma.—Greological Survey. 
Bulletin. 1. 1908. 
State University. 
Bulletin. 1—2. 1910. 
Research Bulletin 142. 
Oxrorp.— Radcliffe Library. 
Catalogue of Books added. 1908, 1909. 
University Observatory. 
Astrographic Catalogue. III-IV. 1900. 
PaisteEy.— Philosophical Institution. 
Annual Report. XCI-—CI. 1899—1909. 
Coats Observatory. Meteorological Observations. 1598—1908. 
Patermo.—R. Accademia di Scienze, Lettere e Belle Arti 
Bolletino. 1903—06. 
Societa di Scienze Naturali ed Economiche. 
Giornale di scienze naturali ed economiche. XXVI-—XXVII. 
1908—09. 
Paris.—Kcole Polytechnique. 
Journal. 2e sér. Cahier XI. 1907. 
Musée Guimet. 
Annales. Bibliothéque d’études. Tome XXIV-—XXYV. 1907-08. 
Musée d’ Histoire Naturelle. 
Bulletin. Année 1907, 6—7; 1909, 5. 
Société Zoologique de France. 
Mémoires. XIX—XXI. 1906-08. 
Bulletin. XXXI—XXXIII. 1908-09. 
Observatoire. 
Rapport annuel. 1907-08. 


Additions to the Library. XXV 


PasapEna.—Throop Institute. 
Bulletin. 40. 42. 1908-09. 
Pathologica, Revista quindecinal. 1. 19-34. 1909-10. 
Preru.— Ministerio de Fomento. 
Cuerpo de Ingenieros de Minas. 
Boletin. 41, 44—54, 56-74. 1908-09. 
PuinapELpu1a.— Academy of Natural Sciences. 
Journal. 2d ser. XIII, 4—XIV, 1. 1908-09. 
Geographical Society. 
Bulletin, “bV,o=V5 25 VI; 2—V TEST. 
Photographic Journal. Febr. 1910. 
Pisa.—Societa Toscana di Scienze Natural. 
Memorie. XXITI-XXIV. 1908-09. 
Processi verbali. XVII, 3—XVIII, 6. 1910. 
PirrssurcH.—Carnegie Institute. 
Memorial of Celebration (Founder’s Day). XIII. 1909. 
Carnegie Library. 
Annual Report. X—XI. 1906—07. 
Carnegie Museum. 
Publications. 50-51, 52, 54, 56-59. 1908-09. 
Pomona COLLEGE. 
Pomona Journal of Entomology. I, 1. 
Porticr.—R. Scuola Superiore di Agricoltura. 
Annali. 2a Ser, VIII. 1908. 
Porttanp, Me.—Society of Natural History. 
Proceedings. <L, S.- 1909: 
Porspam.—Astrophysikalisches Observatorium. 
Publikationen. XV,1; XVIII, 2-3; XTX, 1—2; XX,4. 1908-09. 
Praaur.—Kénigl. Bihmische Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften. 
Jahresbericht. 1908. 
Sitzungsberichte. Mathematisch-naturwissenschaftliche Klasse. 
1908. 
Generalregister der Schriften. 1884-1904. 
K. K. Sternwarte. 
Magnetische und meteorologische Beobachtungen. 1907—08. 
Ceska Spoleénost Entomologitka. I, 1-VI, 4. 1904-09. 
Deutscher naturwissenschaftlich-medizinischer Verein fiir Bohmen 
,,Lotos‘. 
Abhandlungen. I, 2-3. II, 1-4. 
Naturwissenschaftliche Zeitschrift. XVIII-—XXVI, 1898-1907. 
QureBec.—Société de Géographie. 
Bulletin. Jan., July, 1908; III, 4-IV. 1. 1908-10. 
Queensland Geographical Journal. 
N.S: “XIII RXTV. - 1907-09: 
QuEENSLAND.—Museum (Brisbane). 
Annual Report. 1878, 1883, 1887—89, 1891, 1893-94, 1899, 1901. 


XXVI Additions to the Library. 


QUEENSLAND. Annals. 3, 8-9. 1897-1909. 
Recenspurc.—Historischer Verein von Oberpfalz und Regensburg. 
Berichte. XI. 1905-06. 
Verhandlungen. 1906—08. 
Rica.— Naturforscher- Verein. 
Arbeiten. N. F. XI. 1908. 
Korrespondenzblatt. L—LII. 1907-09. 
Rio pe Janetro.—Instituto Oswaldo Cruz. 
Memoria. I, 1—2. 1909. 
Museo Nacional. 
Archivios. I-VI. 1876—85 
Rockefeller Institute of Medical Research. 
Studies. VI. 1909. 
Roentgen-Society. ° 
Journal. I—V, 22. 
Romr.—R. Accademia dei Lincei. 
Atti. Serie V. Rendiconti. Classe di scienze fisiche, mate- 
matiche e naturali. XVII, 5—XIX. 5. 1908—10. 
Rendiconto dell’adunanza solenne. 1908, I1; 1909, II. 
Accademia Pontifica de’ Nuovi Lincei. 
Atti. LXI—LXII.- 1908-09. 
Societa Italiana delle Scienze. 
Memorie di Matematica e di Fisica. Serie IJ. Tom. XV. 1908. 
Sr. Lovis.—Academy of Science. 
Transactions. XVII, 2—XIX, 1. 1908—09. 
Sr. Pererspure.—Académie Impériale des Sciences. 
Bulletin. Classe Phys.-Math. Sér. V. XXV, 3-5; Sér. VI. 
1908;-2=18); 1909118 19107 a5: 
Mémoires. Classe Phys.-Math. Sér. VIII. XVII, 1-7; XVIII, 
I-18; XIX; I=lly WOXe Toh; SOX, | 18); ee 
XM 16, 1905—08: 
Mémoires. Classe Hist.-Philol. Sér. VIII. Tome VIII, 1-12. 
EX 1906209) 
Radloff, W. Versuch eines Worterbuchs der Tiirk-Dialecte. 
Lieferung 1, 2, 4—6, 12-16, 19-21. 
Hortus Petropolitanus. 
Acta. XXVIT, 2; XXVIIL, 1-2; XXIX, 1-23 3X3 Ss 
1909. 
Comité Géologique. 
Bulletin. XXV, 10; XXVI,.1—=10- XX Vi, 2-10: - 190708: 
Mémoires. Nouv. sér. Liv. 22, 28, 30, 32, 34, 36-38, 41—50. 
1908. 
Imp. Russ. Geograf. Obshtchestvo. 
Ieviestiia. XLIT, 4-5; XoelVyd—3, 0b-6, 38) 10a 
1906—09. 
Otchet. 1908. 


Additions to the Library. XXVIL 


Sr. Pererssure.— Kaiserlich-Russische Mineralogische Gesellschaft. 
Materialien zur Geologie RuBlands. XXIII, 2; XXIV, 1-2. 
1908-09. 
Verhandlungen. Ser. IJ. XLV—-XLVI. 1907-08. 
Observatoire Physique Central Nicolas. 
Annales. 1905, 1—1906, 2. 
Publications. Sér. IT. XVI, 1; XVIII, 2, 4. 1908—10. 
Société du Chemin de Fer Chinois de 1’ Est. 
Observations météorologiques en Mandchourie. I. 1909. 
SANTIAGO DE CuILE.—Sociedad Cientifica de Chile. 
Actes. XVII, 1—XVIII, 5. 1907-08. 
Sad Pavto.—Museu Paulista. 
Notas preliminares. I, 1. 1907. 
Revista do Museu. II, VII. 
Sociedade Scientifica. 
Revista. II-III. 1907-08. 
Schweizerische Naturforschende Gesellschaft. 
Verhandlungen. LXXVIII—XCI, 2. 1895-1908. 
Srena.—R. Accademia dei Fistocritici. 
Ati, ser. LV. XX, 1-10. Serie V. 1, 1-10, 1908-10. 
Smithsonian Institution. 
Bureau of American Ethnology. 
Annual Report. XXVI. 1904—05. 
Bulletin. 35, 38, 41, 42, 48. 1908—09. 
National Museum. 
Bulletin. 64-66. 68, 70. 1908-09. 
Proceedings. XXXIV—-XXXVI. 1908—09. 
Contributions from National Herbarium. X, 7; XII, 1-10. 
ASE 2s 1908-10: 
Report on Progress and Condition. 1908—09. 
Soutn Arrica.-—Philosophical Society. 
Transactions. XIII, pp. 1-752; XIV, 1—XVIII, 4. 
Royal Society. 
Transactions, -=+=—2. 1909-10: 
South London Entomological and Natural History Society. 
Abstract of Proceedings. 1886—1909. 
Staten Istanp, N. Y.—WNatural Science Association. 
Proceedings. I, 1—4 and table of contents; II, 1-2; Proceed- 
ings, 25th anniversary. 
Museum Bulletin. 1 and Suppl. 2—20. 
Srocksoitm.—Kongl. Svenska Vetenskaps- Akademi. 
Arkiv for Botanik. VEL, 1—£; LX. 1.* 1908-09. 
Arkiv fér Kemi, Mineralogi och Geologi. III, 1-3. 1908-10. 
Arkiv fdr Matematik, Astronomi och Fysik. IV, 1—V, 4. 
1908-09. 
Arkiv for Zoologi. IV, 1-4; V, 4. 1908-10. 


XXVIII Additions to the Library. 


SrockHorm.—Arsbok. 1908-09. 
Handlingar. Ny.fdljd. XLII,10—XLIV,5; XLV,2. 1908—10. 
Lefnadsteckningar. IV, 4. 1910. 
Meteorologiska Iakttagelser i Sverige. XLVIII-L. 1906—08. 
Meddelanden fran Nobelinstitut. I, 8-10, 12-13, 15. 1908-10. 
Les prix Nobel en 1906. 
Observations météorologiques suédoises. Vol. XLVIII. 1906. 
Kongl. Bibliotek. 
Accessions-katalog. XXII. 1907. 
Arsberiittelse. 1907-08. 
Entomologisk Forening. 
Entomologisk Tidskrift. XXIX—XXX, 4. 1908-09, 
Kgl. Forstliche Versuchsanstalt. 
Meddelanden. Haft 6. 1909. 
Srrasspure, i. E.—K. Universitdts-Sternwarte. 
Annalent WT 1909: 
Srurreart.— Verein fir vaterldndische Naturkunde in Wiirttemberg. 
Jahreshefte. LXIV—LXV, und 4 Beilagen. 1908-09. 
Tasmania.— Royal Society. 
Papers and Proceedings. 1908. 
Texas.— Academy of Science. 
Transactions. I, 3<4; Il, 1-2; IV; VI—VIL> Xo) iss51908 
University of Texas. 
Bulletin. 102-103, 106-109, 114—117, 119-120, 128, 125: 
Hill, B. F. and Udder, F. A. Map of West Texas. 1904. 
Bulletin. Reprint series. 2, 5, 7, 8. 1906—09:. 
Tiriis.— Physikalisches Observatorium. 
Seismische Monatsberichte. 1906, 10-1908, 12. 
Tokyo. —Deutsche Gesellschaft fiir Natur- und Volkerkunde Ostasiens. 
Mitteilungen. V. Suppl. XII. 1889, 1909. 
Imperial University of Japan. 
Journal of the College of Science. XXVI,2; XXVII,3—6. 1909. 
Calendar. 1907—08. 
Toronto. — University. 
Publications. Biological series. 4-7. 1908. 
Geological series. 3-5. 1908. 
Physiological series. 4—7. 1908-09. 
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Mémoires. Xe sér. Tome VII—VIII. 1908-09. 
Fuculté des Sciences de Université. 
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Societé d Histoire Naturelle. 
Bulletin trimestr. XL, 1—XLII, 2. 1907—09. 
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Bulletin. 18-20. 1906-08. 


Additions to the Library. 


TovuLousE. Bulletin populaire de la pisciculture. Il. 5-8. 1909, 
Observatoire. Bulletin. II, 1-2. 1907-08. 
Trrest.—Osservatorio Maritimo. 
Rapporto annuale. 1904—05. 
Tromsor.— Museum. 
Aarsberetning. 1906—07. 
Aarshefter. 25, 29. 1902, 1906. 
TronpHEIM.—Kongl. Norske Videnskabers Selskab. 
Skrifter. 1907—08.: 
Tufts College. 
Studies. Scientific series. II, 38. 1909. 
Turin.—Musei di Zoologia ed Anatomia Comparata. 


XXIX 


Bollettino. XXI, 541; XXII, 546-76; XXIII, 576-95; XXIV, 


596—615. 1908-10. 
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Bulletin of the Library. 66—75. 1908-09. 


Monthly List of Publications. April 1908, to Jan., 1910. 


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Voli 2 Ls: 1306—10. 


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Weather Bureau. Bull. Q. 
Department of the Interior. 
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329-36, 3388-42, 344-52, 355, 357-60, 362-63, 369, 373, 377, 
380, 383, 384, 387-93, 395—7, 399, 400, 402-05, 408-09, 410 


—14, 416, 418-19, 421, 423-24. 
Geologic Atlas of the United States. Fol, 151-66, 
Mineral Resources of the United States. 1907-08. 
Monographs. XLIX. 1908. 
Professional Papers. 56, 58-67. 1908-10. 
Annual Report. XXVITI-XXxX. 1907—09. 


Water-supply and irrigation papers. 207, 209-36, 238, 242. 


Library of Congress. 
Select List of Books on Sugar. 1910. 


Report of Librarian and Superintendent of Buildings and 


Grounds. 1908-09. 
Naval Observatory. 
Synopsis of the Report of the Superintendent. 1909. 
Upsata.— Regia Societas Scientiarum. 
Nova Acta, Ser. IV, Vol. II, 1. 1909. 
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Bulletin. VIII, 15-16. 1906-1907. 


XXX Additions to the Library. 


Urveovay. 
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Additions to the Library. XXXI 


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Annual Report. 1907—08. 
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Bulletin. XV, 75—187. 1908-09. 
WESTERN AvsTRALiIa.—Department of Mines. 
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Geological Survey. 
Bulletin. 27—30, 32, 35, 37. 
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ing coal. 
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; Vierteljahrsschrift. LII, 3-LIV, 2. 1907-09. 


XXXII Additions to the Library. 


FROM THE AUTHORS AND PUBLISHERS. 


Agassiz, A. Address, opening geological section of Harvard University 
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James, W. Louis Agassiz, address, reception of American society of 
naturalists. Dec. 30, 1896, 1897. 
Lryst, E. H6fe um Sonne und Mond in Rufland, Moscow, 1906. 
Luftelectrische Zerstreuung und Radioactivitét in der Hohle 
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Meteorologische Beobachtungen in Moskau. 1905, 1906. 
Uber Schitzung der Bewélkungsgrade. 1906. 
Das Erdbeben von San Francisco, 1906. 
New Yorx, Duchess County. Book of supervisors, 1718-22, Pough- 
keepsie. 
Txomson, T. A. and Smreson, T. T. Account of Alcyonarians. Indian 
Marine Service Ship “ Investigation.” II. 1909. 


INDEX. 


Acolastus, 380, 381, 382. 

Active life, the, 339—40. 

Adam Praemonstrateus, 326. 

AAlfric, 304. 

Alain de Lille, 297, 300, 326, 377. 

Albion Knight, 372. 

All for Money, 346, 387. 

Alphabet of Tales, An, 297, 300, 301, 
302, 305, 310. 

Amphitruo, 384, 399. 

Ane Satyre of the Thrie Estaits, 3700—11, 
390, 393. 

Antichrist, the legend of, 346-51; 
as a source of the moral plays, 
350—51. 

Anticlaudianus, 326. 

Appius and Virginia, 399—400. 

Aristotle, 360, 383. 

Asotus, 380. 

Assembly of Gods, The, 328. 

Augustine, 294, 297, 304, 307, 339. 

Bale, 361—64, 367, 369. 

Bataille d’Enfer et de Paradis, 343. 

Bataille de Karesme et de Charnage, 
343. 

Bataille des Sept Arts, 342. 

Bataille des Vices contre les Vertus, 327. 

Bede, 304. 

Bernard, 295, 304, 307, 310, 330, 331, 
339, 355. 

Besangon, Etienne de, 300. 
Alphabet of Tales. 

Biblia Pauperum, 302. 

Bien-Avisé, Mal-Avisé, 359. 

Blickling Homilies, The, 304, 306, 310. 

Blois: see Peter of Blois. 

Bonaventura, 302, 356. 

Bourbon, Etienne de, 300, 301, 302. 

Bozon, 310. 


See 





Brandt, 360. 

Burning of John Huss, The, 369. 

Calisto and Melibea, 398. 

Cambyses, 400, 401. 

Captivi, 383. 

Castle of Perseverance, The, 312—20, 
336, 337,354, 358, 389—90, 3938, 394. 

Chasteau ad’ Amour, 335, 356. 

Cheke, 369. 

Cobler’s Prophecie, The, 346, 400—401. 

Collection of Letters, Statutes, and Other 
Documents, A, 374. 

Collogue Social, 358. 

Condamnation des Banquets, 359, 397. 

Conflict of Conscience, The, 367. 

Contract of Marriage between Wit and 
Wisdome, The, 379, 

Controversial moral plays, 359—75. 

Creed plays, the, 334—38. 

Cursor Mundi, 336, 356. 

Cyprian, 321, 329. 

Dance of Death, the, its general 
treatment, 341,351—54; in English 
moral plays, 352--54; in French 
moralities, 354. 

De Confiictu Vitiorum et Virtutum, 
328. 

De Eruditione Praedicatorum, 298. 

De Meretrice Babylonica, 374A. 

De Nuptiis Philologiae et Mercurii, 380. 

De Pattentia, 309. 

De Tribus Dietis, 359. 

Debate, literature of, in Middle Ages, 
341—46, 354; in Reformation times 
365—67. 

Debate: see Psalms, 85. 10. 

Debate between the Body and the Soul, 
341, 345, 354. 


“Debate of the Carpenter’s Tools, 344. 


il Elbert N. S. Thompson 


Devil, the, on the stage, 395—97, 
401—402. 

Dialogue: see Debate. 

Disobedient Child, The, 382. 

Echecs Amoureux, Les, 379. 

Endightment against Mother Messe, The, 
366. 

Enterlude of John Lon & Mast Person, 
The, 369. 

Ephraem, the Syrian, 321. 

Everyman, 341, 852—53, 390. 

Exempla, 299~804. 

Farces, Influence on moral plays, 
388-89. See Heywood. 

Freedom of the will, 317—18. 

Freewill, 369. 

Fulwel, 388. 

Gammer Gurton’s Needle, 401. 

Gascoigne, 384. 

Glasse of Gouernement, 384—86. 

Glossa Ordinaria, 334. 

Gnapheus, 380. 

Goad’s Promises, 369. 

Godly Queen Hester, 371. 

Golden Legend, The, 367. 

Greban, 356. 

Gregory, the Great, 295, 296, 297, 
300, 301, 530, 

Grosseteste, 296, 335, 341, 356. 

Hamartigenia, 322, 329, 330. 

Heywood, 345—46, 389. 

Hickscorner, 382, 388. 

Homilaria, 296—99. 

Honneur des Dames, 332, 359. 


Honorius of Autun, 296, 297, 298, 
305, 377. 
Hugo of Saint Victor, 310, 330, 331, 


334, 355. 
Humanism: see Renaissance. 
Humbert de Romanis, 298, 299. 
Huon de Méri, 326. 
Ingeland, 381. 
Jack Juggler, 384, 399. 





Jacques de Vitry, 298, 299, 300, 301, | 


305; 313: 
Jonson, 401—402. 


| 
| 
| 
| 


King Cambyses, 400, 401. 

King Darius, 346. 

King John, 362—64, 367. 

Kirchmayer, 366, 367, 374. 

Lactantius, 321. 

Legal regulation of moral plays, 
364, 373-75. 

Liberality and Prodigality, 332, 383, 
395, 397. 

Life and Death of Mary Magdalene, 
388. 

Like Will to Like, 346, 388, 394. 

Lindsay, 370. 

Longer Thou Livest, The, 398. 

Lord Governaunce, 373. 

Lord’s Prayer, the, as interpreted 
in the Middle Ages, 334; as con- 
nected thereby with the Psycho- 
machia, 334; the Pater Noster 
plays, 334-38. 

Ludus de Antichristo, 350—51. 

Lupton, 387. 

Lusty Juventus, 369, 382. 

Lydgate, 327, 328, 336, 379. 

Macropedius, 380. 

Magnificence, 355, 341, 346, 360, 362, 
383. 

Mankind, 358, 387, 391—92. 

Marguet Convertie, 345. 

Marriage of Wit and Science, The, 309. 

Martianus Capella, 380. 

Mary Magdalene, 331, 384. 

Medwell, 332, 379. 

Menaechmi, 383. 

Merry Knack to Know a Knave, A, 
399. 

Misogonus, 382-83. 

Moral plays, analogues in medieval 
sermons, 304-12; sources: the 
Psychomachia, 293, 320-33, the 
legend of Antichrist, 346-51, the 
Dance of Death, 317, 341, 351—54, 
the allegory of Psalms, 85. 10, 318, 
354-58 ; as a means of theological 
instruction, 333-41 ; as connected 
with the Reformation, 359-75; 


The English Moral Plays iii 


and with the Renaissance, 375-86; 
and with the spirit of comedy, 
387—90, et passim; their presen- 
tation, 389-95; restrained by law, 


364, 873-75; kept alive by new | 


needs, 359-86, their disintegra- 
tion, 386—403. 

Moralité des Enfans de Maintenant, 382. 

Morals of the Book of Job, 330. 

More, 566. 

Mystere de la Passion, 356. 

Narrenschiff, 360. 

Nature, 332, 378, 379, 383, 393, 395. 

Nature of the Four Elements, The, 
376—78, 381, 383. 

New Custom, 369, 393. 

Nice Wanton, The, 381. 

Occleve, 360. 

Origen, 349. 

Pageants, political and religious, 
364. 

Palsgrave, 381. 

Pammachius, 366, 367, 374. 

Parabell, 380. 

Pastor of Hermas, 309, 329. 

Pastoral Care, The, 295, 296, 328. 

Pater Noster: see Lord’s Prayer. 

Paul, Saint, 320-21, 322, 348. 

Peter of Blois, 310, 327. 

Pierre de Limoges, 300. 

Plautus, 383, 384, 399. 

Play of the Sacrament, The, 336. 

Pore Help, A, 369. 

Presentation of plays, 389-95. 

Pride of Live, The, 353, 358, 389, 390, 
392—93, 395. 

Prodigal Son, the, plays on, 380—81, 
386. 

Prudentius, 322. 

Psalms 85. 10, in allegory, 354—58. 

Psychomachia, its origin, 320-22; in 


literature, 326-32; and in art, | 


328 ; the main source of the moral 
play, 293, Also, 311, 820-833, 334, 
341, 343, 346. 

Raoul de Houdan, 327. 





Realism, 387—89, e¢ passim. 

Rebelles, 380—82. 

Redford, 379, 384. 

Reformation, plays concerned with, 
3509-75. 

Regement of Prynces, 360. 

Renaissance, plays concerned with, 
375—86. 

Reson and Sensualyte, 379. 

Respublica, 359, 370, 393, 395. 

Rich, Archbishop, 335. 

Roman de la Rose, 332. 

Roo, 364, 373. 

Rutebeuf, 327. 

Saint John the Evangelist, 340—41, 
389. 

Salutation and Conception, 

School-plays, 376—86. 

Secreta Secretorum, 360, 

Sermon, the, in early Christian 
worship, 293-94; its decline, 
294-95; its revival, 295-312; 
methods of adaptation, 296—312; 
dramatic character of, 303-12; 
use of allegory in, 308—12. 


Sermones ad 


The, 357. 


Sermones Vulgares, Or, 
Status, 298, 299. 

Sermonnaire: see Homilarta. 

Sir Thomas More, 401. 

Skelton, 360, 362, 383. 

Somebody, Avarice, and Minister, 372. 

Somme des Vices et des Vertues, 335. 

Songe de Paradis, 327. 

Speculum Ecclesiae, 296, 297, 298, 305, 
334, 

Spira, 368. 

Strabo, 334. 

Studentes, 381, 383, 


| Stymmelius, 381. 


Summa de Arte Praedicatoria, 297. 
Tertullian, 309, 321. 

Thersites, 398. 

Three Ladies of London, The, 372, 384. 
Three Laws, The, 361, 367, 369. 


| Three Lords and the Three Ladies of 


London, The, 372. 


iv Elbert N. S. Thompson, The English Moral Plays. 





Tom Tyler, 384, 388. Wapull, 372. 
Tornotemenz Antecrit, Li, 326. Wealth and Health, 394. 
Trial of Treasure, The, 383, 397. Wever, 369. 
Turner, 366. Wiclif, 334. 
Tyde Taryeth No Man, The, 372. Wilson, 346, 400-401. 
Tyndale, 366. Wisdom Who Is Christ, 338—40, 341, 
Vice, the, on the stage, 395-97, 394, 396. 
401—402. Wit and Science, 379, 381, 383, 384. 
Vincent of Beauvais, 377. Woodes, 367. 
Virtutum Vitiorumque Exempla, 302. | World and the Child, The, 336, 337, 393. 
Vote de Paradis, 359. Wylley, 369. 
Wager, 388. York, Plays at, 334-35, 382, 391. 


Waldis, 380. Youth, 388. 


it wef . pw ots 
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TRANSACTIONS OF THE 


CONNECTICUT ACADEMY QF ARTS AND SCIENCES 


INCORPORATED A. D. 1799 


VOLUME 14, PAGES 1-57 SEPTEMBER, 1908 


On the Theory 
of Double Products and 
Strains in Hyperspace 


BY 


EDWIN BIDWELL WILSON 


PUBLISHED UNDER THE AUSPICES OF 
YALE UNIVERSITY 
P nON 


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1908 


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WEIMAR ! PRINTED BY R. WAGNER SOHN 





I.—ON THE THEORY OF DOUBLE PRODUCTS AND STRAINS IN HYPERSPACE. 
By Epwin BipweL_L WILSON. 


Part I.—On A MULTIPLE ALGEBRA AS SET FORTH BY GIBBS. 


Introduction. 


1. History and apologies.—During the academic year 1899-1900, 
I followed a course of lectures on vector analysis by the late pro- 
fessor J. Willard Gibbs. These lectures, with some alterations as 
to additions and retrenchments, I published with his permission in 
the year 1901.1 Previously to this, during the academic year 
1900-1901, I had the opportunity of following a short course of 
twenty-five or thirty lectures on multiple algebra under the same 
master. These lectures have never been published, and very likely 
never can be. My own notes were very meager and most of them 
have unfortunately been lost. There remains, however, a set of 
notes taken by the late professor G. P. Starkweather of Yale Uni- 
versity. These notes were of a similar course given during the 
academic year 1895-1896 ; and as nearly as my memory and the 
fragments of my own notes will serve me, it appears that Gibbs 
had not materially changed his course during the intervening five 
years. It is therefore from Starkweather’s notes that the follow- 
ing articles on multiple algebra are drawn, with the practical cer- 
tainty that the presentation is essentially that followed by Gibbs 
in his later years. 

Gibbs’s course on multiple algebra, following immediately upon 
his lectures on vector analysis, began with a discussion of quaternions 
defined as the sum of the vector product and the negative of the 
scalar product of two vectors, and then turned to the geometric 





1 Vector Analysis, a textbook for the use of students of mathematics 
and physics, founded upon the lectures of J. Willard Gibbs. Yale Bicen- 
tennial Publications, Charles Scribner’s Sons, New York, and Edwin 
Arnold, London. xviii +436 pp. A second edition, merely corrected, 
has recently appeared. References in the text to Vector Analysis are 
to either edition. Gibbs’s original pamphlet on vector analysis, printed 
privately in 1881—1884 but never published, may now be found reprinted 
in the collection of The Scientific Papers of J. Willard Gibbs, volume 2, 
pp. 17-90. 


Trans. Conn. Acap., Vol. XIV. 1 SEPTEMBER, 1908. 


2 E. B. Wilson, 


algebras, that is, the point-, line-, and plane-analyses of Grassmann. 
These subjects occupied approximately half the time of the course. 
During the remaining half, he took up the theory of dyadics, which 
is in immediate and intimate connection with the theory of matrices, 
and concluded with C.S. Peirce’s thorem that any linear associative 
algebra may be put in quadrate, that is, in matricular form. This 
brief series of lectures by no means contained all of Gibbs’s ideas 
and developments in multiple algebra. Indeed he had published 
at a much earlier date some reflections and theories on the subject! 
which found no place in his course. An examination of the notes 
which he left at his death shows, however, that he followed his 
usual custom of not committing his results to paper except im so 
far as they were immediately needed for the lectures in his course. 

The reason for my being so bold at this time as to publish some 
of the most essential extracts from Gibbs’s lectures on multiple 
algebra is partly because they may be of interest to mathematicians 
who may be concerned with the theory of matrices or with mul- 
tiple algebra, and partly because I desire to make use of the ab- 
breviations which his notation and methods afford in discussing some 
geometric problems in connection with the theory of strains. If at 
any time in developing the multiple algebra I take the liberty of 
adding to what I find in Starkweather’s notes or in my own, or 
if I depart from the methods of Gibbs, I shall try to make the 
fact evident—not for the purpose of claiming any originality of my 
own, but that the reader may have as definite as possible an idea 
of what Gibbs did in his course on multiple algebra, in so far as 
I find it necessary or advisable to print it at this time. 


2. Preliminary notions and notations.—Let the primary elements 
of the algebra be denoted by Greek small letters, a, B, y,...- 
If the algebra is z-dimensional, any 7-4-1 of the elements will be 
connected by a linear relation, 

+ a40--08--cy--... 16 n--1- tense 
with scalar coefficients a, 6, c, ... not all of which are zero; and 
any element of the system may be expressed linearly with scalar 
coefficients in terms of any given z linearly independent elements, as 
(1) 6 = 00 bea 6 y-.. wu tO terme 





' On Multiple Algebra, an address before the section of mathematics 
and physics of the American Association for the Advancement of Science, 
by the Vice-President. Proceedings of the American Association for the 
Advancement of Science, volume 35, pp. 37-66. This address is reprinted 
in The Scientific Papers, volume 2, pp. 91-117. 


Double Products and Strains in Hyperspace. 3 


Moreover, the system will be supposed, as usual, to contain all the 
elements which may be linearly derived from any given elements; 
and it may be assumed that the coefficients in this derivation 
are any real or complex scalars. It will not be necessary to go 
into further details as regards these matters which are the same in 
all linear associative or Grassmannian algebras. So much in regard 
to addition, subtraction, and linear dependence or independence. 
The primary elements a, ~, y, ... may be interpreted either as 
vectors issuing from a fixed point in Euclidean space of 2 dimensions 
or as points lying in a Euclidean space (supposed flat, of course) 
of w—1 dimensions. It is the former interpretation which will be 
most used in what follows. It should be noted however, that the 
algebraic system is independent of any geometric interpretation. 
If proofs are given by means of either of the said interpretations, 
it is merely because the geometric language facilitates expression. 
As a matter of fact in a Grassmannian algebra where the com- 
binatory products lead to elements of different types from the ele- 
ments which constitute the factors, the geometric language and 
conception are far more fruitful and convenient than in those 
algebras in which the product is always of the same type as the 
factors; and hence it will be used constantly in what follows. 
Two primary elements may be multiplied according to the com- 
binatory law 
(2) axp=—Bpx<ea 
to form a product which is an element of another type and may 
be called a secondary element or element of the second class. The 
use of the cross < for combinatory multiplication it in accord with 
Gibbs’s usage in his address on multiple algebra. In lke manner 
k elements, k =n, may be combined to form an element of the 
kth class. Such multiplication is called progressive ; it is associative 
and it is distributive relative to expressions such as (1). If an ele- 
ment of class & be multiplied into an element of class 4 k+/=n, 
the multiplication remains progressive; if k4-/ n, the product is 
of classmand is ascalar. The properties of progressive multiplication 
as contained in (2) and in the associative and distributive laws are 
simple and are treated in a variety of places.’ If the sum of the 
classes, 8 + J, of two elements is greater than v, the rules of pro- 
gressive multiplication give a zero value for the product and it 





1 For instance, in either of Grassmann’s Ausdehnungslehren, 1844 and 
1862. or in Whitehead’s Universal Algebra, volume 1, Cambridge Uni- 


versity Press. 


4 EE. B. Wilson, 


becomes necessary to redefine the method of evaluating the product. 
Thus arises the theory of regressive multiplication in which the 
class of the product is # + /— um instead of k+ 7/2. This product 
is also treated in detail in the references just cited. 

It should be noted, however, that the theory of regressive multiplica- 
tion, which is usually based upon the theory of supplements in the 
Grassmannian sense, was treated in an entirely different manner by 
Gibbs. His point of view and method of procedure were outlined in his 
address on multiple algebra already cited: but as that presentation is 
extremely brief, it may be well to recapitulate his method in some 
detail. Let «, 8, y, ... be any number of elements of the first class. 
Consider the product of two factors (the cross introduced in (2) may be 
omitted for brevity in writing) 

(@pyod. 2.) (...Apya) 
each of which contains not more than x elements, say # and / respect- 
ively, but which together contain more than 2 elements. The product 
of two such factors is called regressive when computed by either of the 
following rules: 

1°. From the second factor (...4uva) take enough, that is, x — &, 
of the remoter (last) elements to form a total of x with all the elements 
of the first factor (« Byd...), thus obtaining a scalar (a product of the 
nth class) to serve as coefficient to the remaining elements of the second 
factor. Do this for every permutation of the Z elements in the second 
factor (...4uyz2) which may be necessary to bring every combination 
(not permutation) of 2 — % of them once and only once to the end of the 
factor, and add the results thus obtained with the positive or negative 
sign according as the number of simple transpositions of the 7 elements 
in any permutation is even or odd. 

20, From the first factor take enough, that is, x — Z, of the remoter 
(first) elements to form a total of ~ with all the elements of the second 
factor, thus obtaining a scalar to serve as coefficient to the remaining 
elements of the first factor. Do this ... and so on, as before. 

Thus it 7 = 4, the following expansions of regressive products are in 
accordance with the rules just stated. 

u(pydé) =(aydé) p—(ades)y+(aesy)d—(eByd)eé, 
(a By) (de) =(a@Bye\d—(aPyd)e=(apde)y+ (By de) at (y ade) 8B, 
(aBy)\GelC)=(apyode+(apyesCd+(apydjel=(adel) py 
+ (sdelC)yat(ydetap. 
It may be remarked that in the first line, the product on the left of the 
sign of equality is already expanded as far as possible by the second 
of the rules. Furthermore, if x had been 5, the last product would 
have been 
(aby) Gel) =(apyeddt+t(epyde)Et(apyld)e=(aspdeljy 
+ (Byde0Hat(yadel)p. 
It is hardly necessary to note that the signs in the expansions may all 
be taken positive by properly arranging the permutations on the letters. 


Ou 


Double Products and Strains in Hyperspace. 


Obviously, if the numbers of the elements in the factors are 4 and /, the 
product belongs to class + 7— x. It is of fundamental importance to 
observe that the way in which the regressive product is defined by 
reference to the progressive product of elements, is sufficient to insure 
the distributivity of the regressive product relative to sums. 

To justify the double definition, it is necessary to show that the two 
rules lead to the same result. For this, it is convenient to consider all 
the primary elements as expressed linearly in terms of x independent 
primary unit elements, all elements of higher classes as expressed in terms 
of the unit elements of those classes. Then, inasmuch as the distributive 
law applies to the regressive product and the product of two sums of 
terms may be resolved into the sum of the products of each pair of 
terms, of which one is selected from the first factor and one from the 
seeond, it is sufficent to prove the equivalence of the two rules for factors 
made up of certain of the units. As the factors contain respectively & 
and / units, and as there are only ~ units in all, there must be # + / — x 
units common to the two factors; it being understood that if any unit 
is repeated in both factors, it may be repeated in the list of common 
units as many times as it occurs in the factor in which it occurs least 
frequently, unless so great a repetition is not required to make up a total 
of &£-+ 2—n common units, after all those which are common to both 
factors, but are not repeated in more than one of the factors have been 
counted. Let the product of the 4+ 2—~»x units common to the two 
factors be J/, and let the two factors be written as AMZ and JZ2. 
Consider the product 4d/ >< I/B, where it is clear that 4 contains 7 — / 
and 2 contains x — # units. According to the first rule it is necessary 
to select x — & elements from J/2 to form with the % elements in 4AM 
a Scalar coefficient for the remaining elements of J/2. If any of these 
n — are taken from J, the resulting scalar will surely have a repeated 
unit and will vanish. Hence all x —% should be taken from #4, and 
according to the first rule the product is 
(3) AM < MB = (AMB) M 
The same result is obtained by a similar application of the second rule. 

A further word on the geometrical interpretation will considerably 
facilitate the expression of some of the following remarks. If the primary 
elements be interpreted as vectors issuing from a fixed point in Euclidean 
space of x dimensions, the elements of the second class will be conceived 
as plane areas and in particular the product of two vectors will be the 
parallelogram included by them, the elements of the third class will be 
three-dimensional volumes, and so on until the scalars which are elements 
of the zth class will be -dimensional volumes, and in particular the 
product of 7 vectors will be the x-dimensional parallelepiped constructed 
upon them. It appears therefore that the necessary and sufficient con- 
dition that & vectors  < », be linearly dependent is that their (progres- 
sive) product be zero. The regressive product is the product of two 
factors, which, regarded as spaces, have a total dimensionality greater 


6 E. B. Wilson, 


than x. Formula (3) shows that in case the factors are made up of 
units, the regressive product is the space common to the two spaces of 
the factors, that is, it is the intersection of the factors, taken, of course, 
with a certain magnitude. An examination of the rules for expanding 
the regressive product, especially as illustrated by the examples there 
given, shows at once that the result is true in general, and that the 
regressive product of two spaces is always the intersection of the spaces, 
taken with a proper numerical value. It should be noted that if the 
spaces of two factors in a regressive product do not exhaust the dimen- 
sionality of all space, that is, if the spaces of both factors lie in a sub- 
space of the 2-dimensional space, then the scalar coefficients which occur 
in the expansion of the product will be products of x vectors lying in 
that subspace and will therefore all vanish. That is to say, if the factors 
lie in a subspace, the regressive product must be zero. 

This fact may serve as foundation for the proof of the associative law 
for the multiplication of three factors, which may be denoted by X, Y, 
Z. Vf X and Y lie in a subspace of the -dimensional space, the regres- 
sive product XY is zero and hence XY times Z is necessarily zero. But 
if X and Y lie in a subspace, so must Y and the product YZ, which is 
the space common to Y and Z Hence X times YZ is also zero; and 
the associative law holds in this case. To prove the law in general it 
is sufficient, owing to the applicability of the distributive law, to prove 
it for the case that X, Y, Z are products of the units. Furthermore, it may 
be assumed that X and Y, and also VY and Z, exhaust the x dimensions 
of space. Let JZ represent the product of the units common to X, Y, Z; 
and let 4 be the product of the units other than those in J7 which are 
common to VY and Z; and similarly 2 and C for the pairs Z, X and 
X, Y. Then as X and Y and also Y and Z must exhaust all z-dimen- 
sions of space, it is obvious that every unit wlich occurs in X must 
occur in Y or Z, and similarly for Y and Z. Hence the factors may 
be written as 

Ge as Vea Coie Zi — Aelia 
and the two groupings of the factors give 
[X VY] Z= [((BMC)(CMA) (AMB) = [((BMCA) CM] (AMB) 
— (BMC A)(CAMB) M, 
X[VZ] = (BMC) [(CMA)(AMB)] = (BMC) (CAMB) MUA] 
= (BMCA)(CAMB)M, 
which are equal; and the associative law is proved. Care should, how- 
ever, be exercised against applying the law to cases to which it cannot 
apply, such as 
m=5, [(aBy)de](ea) = 1 Vea), (@ By) [(e) (Cea)| = 0. 
Here the products are not regressive, but progressive. 

In addition to the combinatorial product « <8 of two elements 
there is the dyadic product «8. This corresponds to the simplest 
type of Grassmann’s Liickenausdriicke. It is, according to Gibbs's 


Double Products and Strains in Hyperspace. 7 


definition, a mere formal juxtaposition of two letters subject to the 
distributive law; that is, 
a(@+y)=abtay and (et+s)y=ay+éy. 

Hence if « and # are each expressed in terms of ” given independent 
elements (which need not be the same set of ~ for both vectors), 
the product «8 may be expanded into a block of 7? terms or dyads. 
It is through this fact that connection is made with the theory of 
matrices. There is no necessity that the two elements in a dyadic 
product should belong to the same class, whether primary or other- 
wise. If I’ and 4 belong respectively to the &th and /th classes, 
the dyad [74 may be defined in a manner similar to « as a formal 
juxtaposition of two elements subject to the distributive law. As 
the Ath and /th classes contain respectively 

n(n—1)...(n—k+1 n(n—1)...(~—/l+1 

( ) = pe sees 10.2 ) a arly) 

linearly independent elements, the dyad [4 may be expanded into 
a block of w~...(m~—-+1).n...(n—H-1)/A!/! terms. These 
terms will not form a square matrix unless k=/ or k+/=n; in 
other cases the matrix will be rectangular. 

Gibbs applied also the name indeterminate product to the com- 
bination «@ @ or I'd, and he was very particular to state that he 
considered it the most general and most essential product with 
which multiple algebra has to dealt. Other products may be re- 
garded as functions of the dyadic product. This product determines 
its constituent elements « and ~, or I’ and 4, except that a scalar 
factor may be transferred from one to the other. The proof of this 
is not essentially different from that given for the simple case of 
vectors in the Vector Analysis, page 272. In what follows, the only 
dyadic products which will be considered are those in which the 
sum of the class-numbers & and / is equal to ”. In this case the 
combinatorial product of two like dyads [4 and I” 4 is detined by 
the simple equation 
(4) (A) >< (FA) = P(A) SHAK Ps 
where 4 =< I” is necessarily a scalar. The product therefore reduces 
to a similar dyad I'4’ modified by a scalar factor. In like manner 
the product of a dyad into an element of the same class as the 
first member of the dyad is defined by the equation 











1 See his address On Multiple Algebra, pp. 283-25; The Scientific Papers, 
volume 2, pp. 109—111: also Vector Analysis, article 102, pp. 271-275. 
The question is also treated in my communication On Products in Ad- 
ditive Fields: Verhandlungen des dritten internationalen Mathematiker- 
Kongresses. Teubner, 1905, pp. 202-215. 


8 EE. B. Wilson, 


(4’) (PLA)<M=P(AxM=(4*MT 
where 4 >I” is a scalar, and the result is therefore an element of 
the same class as that which was multiplied by the dyad. 


3. Leciprocal sets of elements.—The theory of reciprocal sets is 
fundamental to the entire treatment of multiple algebra as here 
given. To a large extent it obviates the necessity of discussing the 
theory of supplements in the Grassmannian sense. In fact, by his 
definition and treatment of regressive multiplication and by his theory 
of reciprocal sets, Gibbs entirely avoided the supplements .in his 
course. Before proceeding, however, to the reciprocal sets, it will 
be well to introduce once for all the change of notation already 
adopted in the discussion of regressive multiplication. The sign of 
the combinatorial product, the cross ><, occurs so frequently as to 
render the formulas too bulky. I shall therefore write 

IA instead of =< A 
for the combinatorial product. This necessitates a different notation 
for the dyadic product, and I shall write for this product 

I'| A instead of IJ, 

where it should be noted that the vertical bar has no relation to 
the Erganzung of Grassmann. This is in entire accord with Gibbs’s 
procedure in his lectures; the change is made purely for convenience. 
The reason that this notation was not adopted from the start was to 
emphasize the fact that the dyadic product was fundamental and 
the combinatory product merely a function of it. 

Let there be given w independent primary vectors or elements 





Gy; 0b; s-2 3 OR Gy Oy 1 yy == 0: 
Form the 7 expressions 
Cit Bio +2. On Oy Oo... Car : 
(5) ec, = + a = Sere 
Qity Wito... Om Oy Ay... Gia G% 


The # quantities «’;, @’s,... a’, thus obtained are elements of the 
(w—1)st class. Taken as a set, they are called the reciprocal set 
to the 7 elements @, @,..., @n. For brevity a‘; is sometimes called 
the reciprocal of a, From the definition (5) of the reciprocal set 
it appears that the elements and their reciprocals satisfy the equations 
(6) ey; a; = 4, a7 a; = 0, a = 7. 

By the laws of regressive multiplication it follows that the 
n(n—1)/2 elements a‘; a’; of the (z—2)nd class and the equal number 
of elements «; a of the second class satisfy the equations 
(6') aecaj;aag=1, erajya,na=O0, kk and / not both 

equal to z and ». 
Similar equations are satisfied by the elements «‘; a; a‘; of the 


Double Products and Strains in Hyperspace. 9 


(n—3)rd class and the elements a; aj ax of the third class. And 
so on, until finally 
(6”) (ar; Og... Gn) (@1 Gg .+. @n) = 1 
These equations are entirely analogous to those obtained in (6) for 
the reciprocals themselves. The extension of the idea of reciprocal 
sets to other than the primary elements is therefore suggested; and 
if equations analogous to (5) be formed for such elements, the theorem 
may be stated that: The reciprocals of the combinatory products 
of the set of ~ primary elements are the products of the reciprocals 
of those elements. Or it may be preferable to regard this state- 
ment taken with the equations (6’) and analogous equations as the 
definition of the reciprocals without appealing to equations analogous 
to (5). The sum of the class-number of any one of a set of ele- 
ments and of the classnumber of any one of the reciprocal set is 7. 
Equation (6“) shows that (a’‘; ag... @’n) == 0, and hence the reci- 
procals a‘;, a‘s,..., @’n are themselves independent. From this 





1 The proofs are very simple. For instance to show that 

(a’ p' y’) («# By) = 1, it is merely necessary to analyze as follows. 

(a By’) (@By) = a B[y! (@ By)] = & B[(y7) (« B) + (7 &) (By) 

+ (7 B) (vy &)] = (a B’) (8); 

for y‘y is 1 and y/a and 78 are both 0. <A repetition of the process 
shows the desired relation. In a similar manner the other relations may 
be proved. All the relations are, however, but special cases of an im- 
portant formula. Let @, 8, 7, ... be elements of class »—1, in number 
less than or equal to ~, and let «, 8, y, ... be an equal number of ele- 
ments of the first class. The product («@fBy...) (@By...) is evidently a 
scalar and is given by the formula 


(«@By...) @By...) =| Ba Bp By... 
DOK Seg MTS al G Ys uc 


Consider («8y...) as a single element and apply the associative law and 
the rule for expanding : 
(a@By...) @py...) = (@By...a) By...) = [(«a) (By...) — (Ba) (Ginza) 


+ (ya) (@B...)—...] By...) 
By a repetition of this process on each of the terms of the form 
Cpe (ys): * (pee e y one (Baan) (BY oo.)e 

a further reduction is accomplished, and so on. The final result will 
clearly be equal to the determinant—in fact the step already taken 
appears as the expansion of the determinant according to elements of 
the first column. If this formula be used, the relations between the 
reciprocals are immediate. 


10 E. B. Wilson, 


follows the theorem: If any set of ~ quantities of the (7—1)st class, 
B1, Bx, ..-, Bn, satisfy the equations (6), the elements —; and a’; 
are identical. For the ~’s may be expressed linearly in terms of 
the a’s as 

Bi = aye ay + ay Og +... + ani O'n 
and then equations (6) give the equations aj; = 1, a =0. Thus 
the uniqueness of the reciprocal set is established. Furthermore 


equations (6), (6’), ... may be written in the form 
Ge — ead a ay =0 
(6) aa ay aj; = +1 a ay a’; a’; = 0, 


where the negative signs hold when and only when z is even, and 
then only in every alternate equation. From the uniqueness of sets 
of reciprocals the theorem may therefore be stated that: The reci- 
procals of a given set of elements are equal to the given set except 
when their class-number is odd and »# is even, in which case they 
are the negative of the given set. 

One of the prime uses of the reciprocals is to express the idem- 


factors. To avoid the introduction of subscripts, let «. ~B, y,... be 
a set of m independent primary elements and a’, #', y‘, ... their 
reciprocals. The dyadic expression 

(7) U 02 id esp || op P| ieee oh nm terms, 





is called an idemfactor for primary elements. It has the property 
that when multiplied combinatorially, see (4’), into a primary ele- 
ment, it reproduces that element: that is, 


Te= (ale + BIR Tyl7/ +...) e=a(e'8) + BBQ) Tye) 





Saree eg Ne 
This may be seen by considering 9 as expressed in terms of a@, ~. 
y,.... In lke manner the dyadic expression 
(7?) I= aBla' B, n(n—1)/2 terms, 


is an idemfactor for elements of the second class, that is, 0 6=@ 6. 
And 

(7%) h=DaPsyl\a' py n(n—1) (n—2)/6 terms, 

is an idemfactor for elements of the third class. And so on. 





Elementary Properties of Dyadics. 


4. Various representations of dyadics.—For the present purposes, 
the primary dyad will be defined as one whose first factor is a 
primary element and whose second factor is an element of the 
(n—1)st class. For brevity, these factors will be designated re- 
spectively as the antecendent and the consequent. To bring out 


Double Products and Strains in Hyperspace. 11 


more clearly the different classes of the antecedent and the con- 
sequent, the former will be denoted by a Greek small letter and 
the latter by a Greek small letter carrying a dash—thus «| 2. 
Dyads of the form «|i may be called secondary, and so on. 
The notation of the reciprocal set to ~ elements a, f, y, ... has 
been a‘, 6’, y’, ...3 and this will be adhered to. The dashes will 
not be introduced to call additional attention to the class of the 
reciprocals. The set of reciprocals of 2 independent elements of the 
(n—-1)st class a, 8, y, ... will be represented by «’, #’, y’,... and 
will be of the first class. 
The sum of any number of primary dyads 

(8) B= to| Go + Bo|Bo+70l¥o+--- 

is called a dyadic polynomial or simply a dyadic. As was stated 
in article 2, each of the dyads may be expanded as a block of x? 
terms by expressing the antecedents and the consequents in terms 


of a set of independent elements «, 8, y,..., » and «, B, y,...,%. 
If this be done the dyadic # takes the form 
(9) P = Cag c|a+ car alB+...+can e|v 

aE Charen hare. cs os Cone kD 

Gage | a he ee aa BD: 


If these terms be added according to rows or according to columns, 
® reduces to a sum of 7 terms: 
(9’) $=alat+BlAat...+tr|r, 

P= mlatAlB+r...+ |». 
In this reduction to a sum of w terms, either the antecedents or 
the consequents may be chosen arbitrarily, but not both. The most 
useful reduction to the form (9) is when the antecedents and con- 
sequents are reciprocal sets. 

Two dyadics # and # may be said to be equal if the x* coef- 
ficients cj are equal when the dyadics are both reduced to the 
form (9) in terms of the same antecedents and the same conse- 
quents. Another definition, which is preferable and obviously re- 
ducible to this, is contained in any one of the three statements: 
Two dyadics @ and ¥ are equal when and only when 

Pbo=VPo for all values of 9 
or oV=oP for all values of 6 
or ofo=o6 Fo for all values of @ and o. 
To insure the equality, it is not necessary to verify these equations 
for all values of 9 or of 6 or of g and o. If the equations hold 
respectively for 2 independent values of the elements in question, 
they will hold for all values. In fact, by the aid of reciprocals the 


12 E. B. Wilson, 


dyadic which converts ” given independent elements «a, 8, ..., v 
into 2 elements «, (1, ..-, %1, not necessarily independent, may 
be written down as 

(10) &d—a|e'+B|8'...- tml, Ba = aq, etc. 


If the antecedents of this dyadic are not linearly independent, 
the expression may be reduced to a sum of / dyads where /<n. 
In general if the antecedents or consequents or both, which occur 
in the reduction of a dyadic to a sum of w terms, be not independent, 
the dyadic may be reduced to a sum of dyads less than z in number. 
If 7 be the least number of dyads which may be obtained in the 
reduction 
(11) @—alatel@t...+ala (¢ terms), 
where the antecendents and consequents are now linearly independent, 
the dyadic is said to have nullity of degree n—/. If the elements 
be interpreted as vectors issuing from an assumed origin in space 
of x dimensions, the nullity may be stated geometrically by saying 
that by the operation of the dyadic the -dimensional space has 
been converted into a flat subspace of / dimensions passing through 
the assumed origin. 

In like manner the dyadic which, used as a postfactor, converts 
the independent elements @, 8, ..., » into @%, B,, ..., ¥ is 
(10) (-1)1—e@'|a+@lii+...+7 lm, «ef= aq, etc, 
where the consequents need not be independent. If the dyadic 
reduces to a sum of / terms, of which the antecedents and con- 
sequents are then linearly independent, the degree of nullity is 
again w—/. The application of the dyadic has converted space 
into a subspace of dimensions /in hyperplanes. This subspace may 
or may not be identical with that previously obtained by using the 
dyadic as a prefactor to elements of the first class. In general the 
two subspaces will not be identical. 


5. Combinatory products of dyadics.—As the individual dyads 
satisfy the distributive law, the definition of the product of two 
dyadics follows immediately from the definition of the product of 
the dyads as given in article 2. It also follows that the product 
of dyadics is itself a distributive operation. An examination of the 
definition shows, however, that the product is not in general com- 
mutative but that it is associative, that is, 

(12) (PQ) = ($B) Q=F #2. 

The associative property is not lost if elements of the proper class 
are multiplied into the products at either end or at both ends, that is, 
(12') (6 ®) (Po) = 6( V0) = (6 Bo = 68 Vo. 


Double Products and Strains in Hyperspace. 13 


If, however, elements were inserted between the dyadics in the 
product, the associative property would be lost. 

If @ and W are two dyadics which have respectively the nullities 
n—k and n—-/, so that 

@=ylat+AlAat...tuala (k terms) 
and P= ay|co + BolBot...+ AlAs (/ terms), 
the product #¥ or the product #@ cannot have a nullity less than 
the greater of the two nullities z— and n—J/, nor a nullity greater 
than the sum, 2 7--k—/, of the nullities. To show that the nullity 
of ¥ is at least m—/, it is merely necessary to inspect the product 
PP = (P aty)| @z + (P Bo) | B2 + ... + (PAs) | do. 
To show that the nullity is at least as great as m—k, consider 
P= a4|(HP+AlAHM+..-+ala DP. 
To see that the nullity of # ¥ is not greater than 22—k—/, con- 
sider the antecedents @a,, ®~,, ..., @A, in the first expression of 
the product. As the nullity of # is only m—A, not more than ~—k 
dimensions of space are annihilated and hence in the most un- 
favorable case at least /-u+k of these antecedents must be line- 
arly independent. Hence the nullity of @¥ is not greater than 
n—Ilt-n—k, and the proposition is proved. It is, of course, obvious 
that the nullity of the product could not be greater than 7. With 
this understanding the generalisation to a product of any number 
of factors is immediate. The theorem is due to Sylvester. 

If either # or ¥ has any degree of nullity, the product cannot 
equal the idemfactor /, which has no degree of nullity. Dyadics 
which have no degree of nullity will be called complete. If # and 
Y are two complete dyadics which satisfy the relation PY — J, 
they will be called reciprocal dyadics— 

(43) PP —=[— VO, P=, b= VP, 

It may be shown that in this case the product of # and is com- 
mutative as indicated and that the reciprocal of either is uniquely 
determined. 

The reciprocal of a product may be shown to be the product of 
the reciprocals taken in inverse order, that is, 

(14) (PPQ)1 = 2-1 w gr, 
The reciprocal may be written down immediately. For if 
(15) d= alat plg+...+ v|D, (—1)"-1@-1=¢'|a’' + # et ieee by |e. 





1 The proofs of these statements are so simple and so like those given 
for the simpler case in the Vector Analysis, chapter 5, that there is no 
need of giving them here. The same is true of a large number of pro- 
positions which follow. See also Whitehead’s Universal Algebra. 


14 EE. B. Wilson, 


The existence of a reciprocal for any complete dyadic establishes 
the principle of cancelation for such dyadics. Thus 
if dP — O then 1 GV = 162 and F=2Q 
or if do = &o then -! ogo = 'Po and o=— 6. 
In the first of these equations the second dyadic. @ or 2 need not 
be complete. Although a complete dyadic may be canceled from 
an equation, an incomplete generally cannot be canceled. 

A dyadic may be multiplied into itself; the product #@ will be 
denoted by #?. In like manner all the successive powers may be 
formed. From the theorem on nullity, it follows that if a dyadic 
is complete, all its powers will be complete. As the reciprocal of 
any power of a dyadic is the same as that power of the reciprocal, 
it is seen that negative as well as positive integral exponents are 
applicable to complete dyadics. Incomplete dyadics will be con- 
sidered to have only positive powers. It may happen that the 
successive powers have an increasing degree of nullity, so that there 
is a certain least power fp such that ? = 0. In this case @ is said 
to be a nilpotent dyadic. It is not necessary, however, that the 
nullity of the successive powers should increase to the value z. 
This may be seen by a simple example. Consider the dyadic 

P=) Bien ates ate A A 1) wee eens) 
This has nullity of degree —/, and as all its powers are identical 
with it, they also have nullity of degree m—/. In general, however, 
the powers of an incomplete dyadic have increasing nullities up to 
a certain power, from which on they all have the same _ nullity. 
And by reasoning like that employed in proving Sylvester’s theorem 
on nullities, it is seen at once that if m—/, n—/+ 4, n—/+44+4,... 
are the respective nullities of ¢, #7, , ..., then nJZ2LZ=h 
=.... Gibbs apparently did not state this last fact in his lectures. 


6. Homologous dyadics.—It has been stated that in general, dyadics 
are not commutative in their multiplication. If two dyadics # and 
‘P are such that 6 #— WP, they will be said to be homologous. 
Any dyadic is homologous with the idemfactor /, and all powers 
of a dyadic are homologous with one another. Moreover, if two 
or more dyadics are homologous, any dyadics which may be ob- 
tained from them by the algebraic processes of addition, multiph- 
cation, and so forth, are also homologous with the original dyadics 
and with each other. Thus the algebra of homologous dyadics 
does not differ essentially from the algebra of ordinary real and 
complex numbers except as regards the extraction of roots. It will 
be seen later, in article 14, that even in such simple cases as the 


~ 


Double Products and Strains in Hyperspace. 15 


square roots of the idemfactor, two square roots are not generally 
homologous. It is possible to define logarithms and exponentials 
of dyadics, and to show that these are homologous with the original 
dyadic; but this does not appear to be very useful. 

The system of homologous dyadics which is most useful is that 
which consists of a given dyadic, the idemfactor, and the dyadics 
derivable by means of rational operations on these two. For in- 
stance, let a dyadic @ satisfy an equation, with scalar coefficients, 
of the type 


(16) @P + a, PP-1 +... + ap-1 B+ Gy I= 0, 
and consider the scalar equation 
BP Opa! sp) 1 at ap — 0: 


The roots of this equation may be found and the equation factored 
into 
(x---7,) (x—1rg) .. . (X%—1p) = 0. 

So likewise the equation involving # may be factored into 
(16') (b—1, 1) (@—1ry 1)... (P—1ry [) = 0. 
Again, two polynomials in @: 

['(d) = oP + a, Ge-1 +... tap 1 S+ayl 
and A (d) = 6" + qa, OM-1 +... + am-1 G+ Aml 
may be divided according to the usual algorithm. If 4 is of lower 
degree than I’, the result of the division may be written 
(17) [(d)= B(#) A(#)+ PC) 
where the remainder P(#) is a polynomial of degree less than m7. 
Thus the Euclidean algorithm for the highest common factor may 
be applied to two such polynomials. 

Any dyadic # may be shown to satisfy a polynomial of degree 
not greater than *. To see this, let @ be expressed as a block 
of nm? terms in the form (9), where the antecedents and conse- 
quents are chosen as reciprocal sets. The higher powers of # are 
likewise expressible in terms of the same mu? dyads and certain 
combinations of the coefficients c;;. Consider the system of equa- 
tions, 77+ 1 in number, formed by the first 2? powers of # and 
the idemfactor. From these equations the m? dyads may be elimi- 
nated as if they where ordinary variables in 7? + 1 linear equations 
in #? unknowns. The result is obviously an equation of the form 
(18) €, 6 + 6, GV. toy. + cm [=0. 

As a matter of fact, it will be shown in article 11 that any dyadic & 
satisfies an equation of degree »—the Hamilton-Cayley equation— 





1 See, for instance, The Scientific Papers, volume 2, pp. 78-84. Some 
simple differential equations are also solved in these pages. 


16 E.B. Wilson, 


but the existence of this equation is not necessary for many of the 
theorems concerning polynomials. 

As @ satisfies an equation of degree v*, it may be inferred that 
f must satisfy an equation of least degree. Let this equation be 
of degree f, so that 
(16”) A(@) = GP + a, GP-14+....+ a 16+ a, 1=0. 

The equation of least degree is unique. For if there were two 
different equations of least degree, their difference would be an 
equation of less degree—which is absurd. It follows that any 
equation E(@)—0 in ® must be the product of the equation of 
least degree and a polynomial in #. For it is possible to write, 
in accordance with (17), 

(17°) O= E(®)= B(@) A(#) + P(#). 

Hence P(#) vanishes and the statement is proved. The equation 
of least degree is therefore a necessary factor of any equation in #. 


Double Multiplication. 


7. Introduction to double products.—The developments of the two 
preceding sections do not differ materially from the ordinary 
treatments of the generalized linear vector function (Hamilton) or 
the simplest type of Liickenausdriicke and quotients (Grassmann) 
or the theory of matrices (Cayley, Sylvester, Frobenius, and others). 
They have been passed hastily in review, partly for the purpose of 
outlining Gibbs’s course on multiple algebra, partly for the purpose 
of establishing the notations, methods, and fundamental theorems 
which will be useful in the future. With his usual reticence, Gibbs 
apparently did not think that this part of his work on multiple al- 
gebra was of sufficient importance and originality to warrant his 
printing it. With regard to double multiplication it was different. 
He seemed to feel that here he had introduced a new idea and 
a new set of methods, which might be of considerable importance 
in a complete treatment of multiple algebra. In fact I remember 
that he once told me that he had in mind several points in mul- 
tiple algebra which he hoped to find time to publish after he had 
completed the revision of his published papers on thermodynamics. 
Very likely he was thinking of his theory of double multiplication. 
Unfortunately, however, the revision of his thermodynamic papers 
was cut short, almost before it had begun, by his sudden death; 
and the only portions of his work on double multiplication which 
were published during his life consist of the few words on the 
subject in his address On Multiple Algebra and of the discussion 


Double Products and Strains in Hyperspace. 17 


given for the simple case of vectors in the fifth and sixth chapters 
of the Vector Analysis. 
Given two dyadics 

P=aleat+Bl\P+ylyt+..., 

P=amlatAalatyilyit... , 
the combination 

pr P=anlamteamlepiteanilent... 

re et ig m+ A|\@AatenlByit... 

+yalyaty aly Batynivnat... 
is called the double (combinatory) product of # into #% This pro- 
duct will be denoted, as indicated, by inserting a double cross bet- 
ween the dyadics. The value of using a definitive symbol for the 
combinatory product is thus brought clearly into the foreground 
as soon as the question of these double products is taken up. 
Turning the fact that the progressive and regressive products obey 
the distributive law, it is clear that the value of p* PW does not 
depend on the particular representation of # and # which may be 
adopted. 

From the definition, the double product is obviously distributive. 
Moreover it is commutative. For the combinatory product of the 
elements is commutative exeept for a change of sign, and in the 
double product there are two changes of sign. Furthermore, the 
double product of several dyadics is associative, that is, 

(20) (2.2) 2 Sef. oO) oe wo. 

This follows from the associative property of the combinatory pro- 
duct of the elements. If a double product of more than 2 dyadics 
were formed, the laws of regressive multiplication would have to 
be brought in to determine the meaning of the product. The work 
that follows will, therefore, be restricted to the consideration of 
double products of ” or fewer dyadics. In accordance with the 
definitions given in article 4. the double product of two (primary) 
dyadics is a secondary dyadic; the double product of three dyadics 
is a dyadic of the third class; and so on. The double product of x 
dyadics is a scalar. The definition of double products may clearly 
be extended to the product of dyadics other than primary, provided 
that the class of the product does not exceed ».') 








1 It may be noted that in the Vector Analysis, p. 308, the double 
product (with a cross) of two dyadics is stated to be non-associative. 
This is because, from the point of view of the Vector Analysis, the com- 
binatory product of two vectors is not regarded as a quantity of the 


Trans. Conn. Acap., Vol. XIV. 2 SEPTEMBER, 1908. 


18 E. B. Wilson, 


8. Double powers.—A dyadic may be multiplied doubly into it- 
self. Thus if 
=alat+elPtyiyt... 

then 
(21) PY h=aBlabB+ayplayt... 

TPalpeatBy|By+... 

Frel|yeFty ply e+::. 
It will be noticed that the terms in #% occur in pairs. The ex- 
pression 
(22) 





2 
Dre DOD AIO 
which is one-half of Px, will be denoted, as indicated, by 2. It 


x 
may be called the double square of # or, more briefly and properly, 
the second of In like manner the expressions 


(22' 1 ie Lege 1 peas ee ae 
i) Pp— 3, PL PLO 4, FX, Pe= 4, PX, Sane Dp ae 


may be formed and will be called the third of #, the fourth of @, 
., the wth of @. Collectively the set ¢,, &;, ..., O, may be 
called the double powers of #, although it should be remembered 


: i ; 
that in % the factor Rl has been inserted. 


The double powers afford a ready means of formulating the con- 
ditions that a dyadic # possess a certain degree of nullity without 
the necessity of reducing # to the sum of the fewest possible 
dyads—a reduction which is by no means easily carried out on any 
assigned dyadic. If the dyadic has m—/ degrees of nullity, it may 
be written as 

b=alatBBtyiyt...+Ala (/ terms), 
where the antecedents and consequents are independent. In this 
case ; takes the form 
(23) Bi (CB eA (GIR en) 
and does not vanish. All the higher double powers will vanish be- 
cause one element will have to be repeated in each antecedent and 
consequent. The lower powers cannot vanish; for the double pro- 





second class, but as a vector, and vector multiplication is not associa- 
tive. Moreover, in the Vector Analysis, the scalar product of two vec- 
tors occurs, and hence there is the double scalar product of two dyadics. 
If Grassmann’s inner product were introduced into the system in addition 
to his outer product (the combinatorial product), there would be double 
inner products of dyadics. These were not taken up in Gibbs’s course, 
and they will be omitted at this point. 


Double Products and Strains in Hyperspace. 19 


duct of a zero dyadic into any dyadic is zero, and ¢ is not zero. 
Hence the necessary and sufficient condition that @ have n—/ de- 
grees of nullity is that 

(23') P= 0, Fi4.1=0. 

This condition may be applied directly to @ without any previous 
reduction. 

The geometric interpretation of the successive double powers is 
important. Suppose the dyadic is written as a sum of m terms 
with independent consequents, so that 

=eala+ B|Btylyt+. 


This dyadic converts the vectors «’, f’, 7’, ... into the vectors «, 
8, y, ..- (or their negatives).1_ The second of @ has the form 
(21) P=—aPlaBtaylayt+... 
te PVG Pear se 
Tee: 
This (secondary) dyadic converts the elements a’ f’, a’ 7", B’y',... 
of the second class into the elements @~, ay, By, .... Elements 


of the second class are the geometric counterpart of plane areas, 
namely the area of the parallelograms of which the vectors which 
correspond to the primary elements are the sides. Hence, if @ re- 
presents the transformation of vectors in space of x dimensions, 
#2, represents the transformation of two dimensional plane areas in 
that space. In like manner #; represents the transformation of 
three-dimensional volumes in the space, and so on until %, which 
gives the ratio in which #-dimensional volumes are changed. 

A considerable number of formulas for operation with double 
powers may be readily deduced: To show that 


(24) (PP), = db P, 
let ® be expressed as a sum of # dyads with independent conse- 
quents «a, 2, y, ... and let # be expressed as a sum of m dyads 
with the reciprocals of these consequents as antecedents. 
P=—ala+Psl@tyly-..., 
he Ge WG gern pa HP 
Then CA) iw ae Bey eae. 


It is merely necessary to form the expression for #2 FY, and (PP), 
to see that they are immediately identical. The same method may 
be used to show that (%#);, = #, #;, By an obvious generalisation 
it follows that the #th of a product of any number of factors is the 
product of the Aths of those factors, that is, 





17t is scarcely necessary to mention that, geometrically speaking, 


the dyadic « represents a homogeneous strain about fixed origin. 


20 E. B. Wilson, 


(24°) (DPQ ...), = Py Fy Qe... . 
As a corollary it is seen that (@”), = (@,)" = @f. The formula given 
in article 5 for the reciprocal of a dyadic may be used to extend 
this result to negative exponents in case # is complete. 

If @ and ¥ are homologous dyadics, the developments of article 6 
show that the expansion of 

(P+ pn = gr a n pnr-1 py ies) gu—2 pe o ... tt gn 

may be carried on by the ordinary binomial theorem. It the dyadics 
are not homologous, this will no longer be true: the second term, 
for instance will consist of 7 terms in which # occurs ~—1 times 
and # once, but the rearrangement which permits of writing 
n @”—1 P will be impossible. There is, however, a binomial theorem 
for the Ath of a sum, namely, 


(25) (P+ Pj = Oy + Gir P+ Gyo Xe +... + H, 

k 
The proof consists in considering the expansion of (+ ®) x. As 
the commutative and associative laws hold for double products, it 
is possible to write — 


k (k—1) rae are 
2! ae eee 





k k kb 1 
p G\x = @x px xP 
(Disnaeey) ee en Cs She 
=k! Oh, +h. (A—-1)! Bei P+ kh (k—-1).(k-2)! Geol W+t.... 
1 
On dividing through by hl the theorem is proved. It will be 


noticed that the usual binomial coefficients are lacking in the bi- 
nomial theorem for double products. 


9. Conjugate dyadics.—The conjugate of a given primary dyadic 
is a dyadic which satisfies the condition 
(26) epfh=Go, & =(—1)"—1(ala+ Blie+...) fS=—alat+Ale+... 
for all values of the quantity g. It is denoted by a subscript c. 
The dyadic %, is not primary, but of the class m—1. The neces- 
sity for the negative sign arises when 7 is even, because then 
ao =—oae. In the definition of conjugates for dyadics of the second 
and higher classes, the factor (—1)"—1 is applied only in the case 
of dyadics of odd class; for it is only in such cases that the re- 
versed of the order of the factors changes the sign. The idem- 
factors: J, 1, J3, ..., Ina; tp =1, which are mentioned imjariclers 
and which are the appropriate idemfactors respectively for elements 
of the first, second, third, ... (w—1)st, and mth classes, as may be 


Double Products and Strains in Hyperspace. 24 


seen from the work on double multiplication, satisfy the obvious 
equations 
(27) [= In-1, ¢) I, =Jy-2) Choatenerenstcs Ln=2 — = Tee, Ln = I, 
The conjugate of the conjugate of any dyadic is the given dyadic, 
that is (% )e-=@. The process of taking the conjugate is involutory. 

As to the rules of operation with conjugates, a number of theorems 
may be stated. The conjugate of the sum of any dyadics is the 
sum of the conjugates. The conjugate of the product of two 
dyadics is the product of the conjugates taken in inverse order. 
For let 

@=alatB@tylyt+..., 
p— q' lA+ Ble |e 7’ |2 (Sai oe 

By merely forming the expression for (® #), and #, @, the truth of 
the theorem is evident in this case. The proof for dyadics other 
than primary would be similar, and the theorem may evidently be 
extended to any number of factors by induction. Hence the con- 
jugate of any power of a dyadic is that same power of the con- 
jugate of the dyadic, and the result may be extended to negative 
powers if a reciprocal exists. It may also be seen that the double 
product of the conjugates of two or more dyadics is the conjugate 
of the double product of the dyadics. Here the order of the factors 
is immaterial. As a special case, the conjugate of a double power 
is that double power of the conjugate. 

As @ and ®,_; are both of the (#—1)st class, it is natural to 
seek a relation between them. Let 

@=alat+B\Bt+ylyt+...+v|v, (# terms) 
Now #,_; is the sum of all combinations (not permutations, for the 
factor 4 “1! has been thrown out) of z—1 antecedents and their 
eee adie consequents. These combinations may be represented 
in terms of the reciprocal sets provided that the dyadic # is com- 
plete so that the antecedents and consequents are linearly inde- 
pendent. Thus in this case 
On1=(aBy...v)(aBy...v) (ale tele ty|yt+. 
+ v'|9*) 

and #,—=(—1)r—1 (aja+,| Boylyt...tripy) 
The negative sign occurs in precisely fhece cases where the theory 
of reciprocals in article 3 requires it. Hence 
(28) PD, Py—1 = Py [n-1. 
If @ has one or more degrees of nullity, it may be written as the 
sum of —1 dyads, which need not have independent antecedents 
and consequents, unless the degree of nullity is one; and hence 


22 E. B. Wilson, 


#,—1 consists of a single term containing all the antecedents. The 
product #,@,_; is therefore null. In this case @, is evidently also 
null, and equation (28) must therefore hold for all cases. 

The demonstration just given for the relation between # and 
@,—, would evidently apply with only insignificant alterations to 
establishing a similar relation between Py and Pp—2, Pze and Py—s, 
and so on. Hence the general formula 


(29) (Pie Pn—-k = Pn [n—% 
On taking the conjugate of each side, the formula 
(29°) P;; (Pn—k)e = Dy, Ly 


is found. In case ® has no degree of nullity, these equations may 
neysolved. / Hence 
(30) Pi, = Dy, (Po Je or DP, = (Pn—k)e | Bn. 
The formulas represented in (29’) look much like the successive 
double powers of the formula for k=1, which is 
(28') P (Pn—1)e= Py I. : 
If the ordinary rules of forming successive double powers be applied 
formally, the result is 

(PD Pn—1, eo a P, Ls, (PD Pn—1, c)3 a P,, I;, ses 


Ors Py (Pn—1)o, — p As. P:, (Pr—1)3, Chama p hee 56 
A comparison with (29‘) would apparently yield the result 
(31) (Pn—1)o = Py Py_-2, (Pn—1)s == Pp, Drs, ae 


The justification for such procedure, however, would involve the 
discussion of double powers of order greater than x. 


Invariant Properties of Dyadics. 


10. The scalar invariants.—Let a dyadic # be written as the 

sum of any number of dyads: 
=alat+PBlAt+yly+.... 

Suppose that the vertical bar which serves to keep the elements 
of the dyads apart, be removed and the sign of the combinatorial 
product be inserted in its place (again the value of having a sign 
such as < for the combinatorial product is brought out) so that 
the antecedent and consequent of the dyad coalesce into a scalar. 
The sum of these scalars, taken with the propery sign, obtained from 
each dyad will be called the scalar of the dyadic and written? 
(32) (1-1¢=aetBetyyt.... 





1 The sign is negative when the negative sign is called for in equa- 


yin 


tion (9 


Double Products and Strains in Hyperspace. 23 


The value of this scalar depends only on the dyadic and not at all 
on the particular representation which has been used. This is due 
to the fact that both dyadic and combinatorial products obey the 
distributive law. Such scalars may be obtained regardless of the 
class to which the dyadic belongs. In particular, the double powers 
yield the x scalars 

(33) LANA: Shiicad  eatae aie ga 

where the subscript s has been omitted in the case of ®, which 
is a scalar. 

The scalar of the conjugate of a dyadic is the same as the 
scalar of the dyadic: for the negative sign which sometimes enters 
into the definition of the conjugate occurs in precisely those in- 
stances in which the reversal of the order of the factors would 
introduce a change in the sign of the combinatory product. The 
scalar of the product of two dyadics satisfies the equation 
(34) (PP), = P* B, 

Perhaps the easiest way to see this is to consider both @ and ¥ 
expanded into a block of m? terms of the form (9) where the ante- 
cedents and consequents are reciprocal sets and are the same for 
both expansions. Then (# #); is obviously the sum of the products 
of pairs of coefficients symmetrically situated with respect to the 
main diagonals, one taken from one of the dyadics and the other 
from the other. The same rule applies for evaluating #< ¥%, and 
hence the two expressions are equal. It may be seen directly, or 
by the application of the rules for conjugates and double pro- 
ducts, that 

(35) (PO),=(@P),. 

A more general theorem is that the scalar of the product of any 
number of factors is unchanged by a cyclic permutation of the 
factors. The proof in the case of three factors is contained in the 
equations 
(35)  (PPQ),=[( P) 2), = ¥) 2 Q=QAey (PV) = 

QE (PP), = (2G P),; 
the proof for a greater number of factors is by induction. This 
result may be used to put the matter of invariance of the scalar 
of a dyadic in a different light. Consider any linear transformation 
of coordinates. This may be represented by a dyadic ¥% Under 
this transformation, the strain represented by # becomes 
(36) 2= Pop 
and 25 = (EP BP), =(@ PAP), = By, 


and hence it appears that none of the w scalar invariants of any 


24. E. B. Wilson, 


dyadic differs trom the corresponding invariants of the transformed 


dyadic. 
By virtue of the identity = %; J; it appears that 
(37) Dee (Pp) — On ee Oe 


This may be taken as the definition of #5 in place of (32) and 
analogous equations, and it offers a ready interpretation of the 
scalar invariants of @ according to the matricular form (9) in which 
the antecedents and consequents are reciprocal sets. In this case 
@, is merely the sum of all the coefficients in the main diagonal ; 
@,, is the sum of all two-rowed minors of the matrix which have 
two terms of the main diagonal as their main diagonal; #3; is the 
sum of all three-rowed minors which have the three terms of their 
main diagonal selected from the terms of the main diagonal of the 
matrix; and so on until finally #, is the determinant of the matrix. 
The values of these sums would be unchanged if the matrix under- 
went a transformation of coordinates. The importance of these 
invariants to the theory of matrices and to the mathematical 
theories of elasticity is well known. It would be possible indefin- 
itely to multiply the interpretation of the theory of dyadics in the 
theory of matrices by reference to the expression of the dyadics in 
the form (9) where the antecedents and consequents are reciprocal 
sets: but this would not be worth while. 


11. The identical equation.—It was shown in article 6 that any 
dyadic satisfies an equation of degree not greater than ?, and 
from this fact was deduced the existence of an equation of least 
degree. Consider the relation (28’) of article 9 as applied to the 
dyadic —g /, where @ is any dyadic and g is any scalar. 

(22 Tn LP 8d Oe in 
The left-hand side may be expanded by the binomial theorem (25) 
and simplified by the relations (37); the right-hand side may also 
be expanded by the binomial theorem and then multiplied out. 


The result is 

n—1 n 
[Pnr—ge Pn—1,s ane de Dips ore ale (=1) Brews ais (1) en i IT(g), 
where JI (g) is a polynomial of degree z in g with dyadic coef- 
ficients. The relation is an identity in g. By the same reasoning 


which shows that two identical algebraic polynomials with scalar 





*) The relation of a dyadic to its family of transformed dyadics # & P—1, 
where # is any complete dyadic, was apparently left unmentioned by 
Gibbs. Perhaps this was due merely to the brevity of his course on 
multiple algebra. 


Double Products and Strains in Hyperspace. 25 


coefficients must have equal coefficients, it may be seen that two 
identical polynomials with dyadic coefficients must have identical 
coefficients. Therefore not only may any scalar be put in the place 
of g, but any vector or dyadic may be put in its place without 
disturbing the identity. If # be substituted for g, the righthand 
side vanishes. Hence 
(38) P"—G, "1+ Po, Pr—-2 — ... 4+ (—-1)""1 Gri, s 
+ (—1)" by, J = 0. 

This is the identical equation which any dyadic must satisfy. It is 
sometimes called the Hamilton-Cayley equation. 

The actual equation of the coefficients of the different powers of 
g& gives the dyadic equations 
(39) P Pr_1,¢ = On ii 

@n—1, ¢ + (Pn—2 5 L) e = Pn-1,s vis 


(Bn—2 lve + & (Pn—3 . Lh) A ES eh 
(Po ous eae + & (P © Ln—-2) ¢ = ®y5 I 
(PE Ine + P= Osl 
If the relation (b—g Dn Ig = (@—g 1) (S—v” In~2, ¢) had been used, 
the same identical equation of the matrix would have been found, 
but the equations obtained from comparing coefficients would have 
been 


(39') Pp e To, lain Py (Pn—3 . I) e = DPn_-1, s I, 
Pr—2, ¢ is P s I (@n_-3 . 1) c = P; (Pn—4 = 13) c = Pn_2, s 1; 
Pil alo Bo LADY Typos) 6 1a — Oy ol 
(@S Ins)e + PE I= G I, 


Consider the scalar equation, called the characteristic equation, 


(40) Xn — Bs xnr—-1 + Py H—? — .. ale (—1)n—1 Pn—1,5 X 

+ (—1)" d, = 0, 
and suppose the roots are a, 6, c, ... with the multiplicities /, g, 
r,.... The identical equation (38) may then be factored into 
(38') (b—al)p (@—b 11 (6—cl)\r...= 0. 
As the scalar equation may be regarded as the expansion of (@—x/) p, 
it appears that each of the factors —aJ/, d—b/, d—cT, ... must 


have at least one degree of nullity, that is, there must be at least 
one element a such that (S—a/)a=0 or a=—aza, etc. The 
roots a, b,c, ... of the scalar equation are called the latent roots 


26 EE. B. Wilson, 


of the dyadic. There is at least one element fixed except as to 
magnitude for each latent root of @. 

If any element is a fixed element (except for magnitude will be 
understood) corresponding to the latent root a, no product of the 
form 
(41) Il (®) = (@—61)1 (@—c I)... 
can annihilate the element. For by direct substitution it is seen that 

IT a = a (a—6b)2 (a—c)... 
In like manner, if P is an element which satisfies the equation 
(6—a IP 8 =0 but does not satisfy the equation (6—a J)P—1 B =0, 
then (#/—a /)P—! B is a fixed element corresponding to the root a, and 
no product of the above type (41) can annihilate it. It follows, 
therefore, that factors of the type (@—aJ)?, (6—c /)4, ... are entirely 
independent in their nullities, and the product of such terms has 
the same nullity as the sum of the nullities of the factors. It ap- 
pears also that the equation of lowest degree must contain each 
of the factors of the type /—al, /—d/, ... at least once, or there 
would be some elements which would not be annihilated by the 
product. The equation of least degree may therefore be written as 
(42) A(®) = (S—a 1)v’ (@—b 1) (S—cI\"’... = 0, 

PERG EG FEI OS 
where none of the exponents vanish and the degree of the equa- 
tion is not greater than 7. 


12. The reduction of a dyadic.—With his usual desire for general 
hypotheses, Gibbs made no use of the Hamilton-Cayley equation 
and the resulting fact that the degree of the equation of least 
degree is not greater than 2 when he came to reduce the dyadic 
to a canonical form. He based his work on the existence of an 
equation of least degree as proved in (16) of article 6. Suppose 
this equation were factored by the methods indicated in that ar- 
ticle. Let the equation be 
(43) A(&) = (b—al)P (6-6 14 (@—c Tl)... , 
and let a fen tae dg ee ay 
Further let 
(44) @-al= ¥, 6—b/=¥#-+ (a—b) I, 6—cl=P-+ (a—o)l.... 
Then 
(45) ($—bJ)1(@--cly ...=AIAB¥PACH-...4 Aes 
where 

A = (a—b)1 (a—c)"... = 0. 
Divide 47/+-BY+ Cy?+...4+ HPm-v into J by the ordinary 


Double Products and Strains in Hyperspace. 2 


“I 


algorithm and carry the division up to and including the power 
Prp—-! in the quotient. Then 
I Saini ek 
(46) ALL BP pe AIT BE +. ee 1 
pr P(P) 
+ AIF BES...+ HE 
where P(#) is a polynomial of degree m—p—1 in ¥ Set 
Pew tg (AI - Be -.. atmo) (A+ BP... Ee Pe) 
= [_Pp P(P). 
In like manner compute J;, /;, ... corresponding to the values 4, 
Eis 1% 
The dyadic J, does not contain #? as a factor; for it is /— Pr P(#P), 
It does, however, contain (¥—d6 /)7 (6—c 1)" ..., which represents 
the other factors of the equation of least degree. Hence Jy ¥? 
contains the equation of least degree and vanishes. Hence 
Ly? = Ig [I—2? P(P)| = La—h, PP P(P) = Ih, 
The product J, 4, contains in /, all the factors of the equation of 
least degree except (#—a/)? and in /, it contains those. Hence 
fa — 0; Thus 
(48) de =e Ay Sh ho? = Les 
i Ol le — Ol ge Oras, 
Let 2 be the sum 
(49) Oe Fe ao! Pe ae nae 
It follows that 





Von) 


2=22 or (Q—/)2=0. 
This expression is a polynomial in @ and is equal to zero. It must 
contain the equation of least degree as shown in article 6. But 2 
contains no factor of this equation, because any factor such as 
#@—aT is contained in all the /’s except J, Hence all the factors 
of the equation of least degree must be contained in Q—/. As 
Q—T is of degree m—1 in @, which is less than that of the equa- 
tion of least degree. the only possibility is 
(50) Q2-IT=0 and 2=]. 
Suppose J,, /, /.,... written as the sum of the fewest possible 
number of dyads, so that 
(51) a= ajatel@tylyt+..., 
h=AjrAtuluetorviyt+..., 


Then if /,2 be compared with Jj, 
f= (ea) ale (ap) e|P+@y)aly+... 
+ (88) 8\8+ (Ba) Blat+(B@y) Blyt+... 





28 EE. B. Wilson, 


it follows that 


ce—pp—7) —--— 1, «8 —pe—a@.— o_o 
Furthermore the equation /, /, = 0 gives 
Che — oe oe 


And if any linear relation existed between the antecedents of the 
different /’s such as 


o=ac+684+hN4+met et... Ho 
there would result the equation 
LO OG OF Hae. i — 0; 


which contradicts the hypothesis that /, is expressed as the sum 
of the fewest possible number of dyads. And similarly in the case 
of the consequents. Hence the total number of dyads in all the 
i’s cannot exceed ~; and on the other hand, as their sum is the. 
idemfactor, it cannot.be less than z. Hence the sets 


OB, 5. Bg R. Dy SRE EN a Bey". a 
are reciprocal, that is 
(51’) TN 8 Btn eam ea 


h=)\X - ule +l +. 
Next consider the expression 
(62) @=O$J/=O(Lt+th+ht+..J=&Rt+H1+& 4+... 


The dyadics &g, dp, &,... have the property 
(52) Dg Dy = by be = by Bo =... =D, 
owing to the presence of the factors 4, J, 2,.... The dyadic 


® has now been resolved into the sum of as many dyadics as there 
are latent roots. These are all homologous with one another and 
with the original dyadic. The equations 


(52”’) G,=16la B= hh, .. 
which follow from this fact, shows that %y, %,... have the same 
antecedents and consequents as J, f),.... Hence if @ be ex- 


pressed in the form (9) where the antecedents and consequents are 
reciprocal sets, it follows that # will consist of a series of matrices 
strung along the main diagonal and equal in number to the number 
of latent roots. The further discussion of @ may be restricted to 
the treatment of these individual dyadics %g, p,.... The question 
of the reduction of a dyadic to standard form has been reduced 
to the single case in which the dyadic has only one latent root. 
Gibbs then reduced dyadics with only one latent root to a matric- 
ular form in which the terms underneath the main diagonal dis- 
appear. This reduction, however, is not complete, and consequently 
a modified form of it will be given: It may be pointed out that 
the above reduction of ® to a sum of independent dyadics is in 
no way dependent on the completeness of # The result is equally 


Double Products and Strains in Hyperspace. 29 


valid for incomplete dyadics. If the dyadic # be arranged in matric- 
ular form with no terms beneath the main diagonal, the existence 
of the Hamilton-Cayley equation is evident. Finally it may be noted 
that the reduction yields the same form for all of the transformed 
dyadics of # For if # satisfies the equation : 

A(@) = "+ A, S14 ...+ Am-1 © + An l= 0, 


then 
(54) A(VSP—-1) — (PSP-1)m+ 4,(Chb P-1)m-1-,,, Am POE! 
ota Am vp 
= Por P+ 4, Por! G+... +Am_; PbP-1 
+ Am I 


= P A(b) P-1 = 0, 

It is obvious that this proof could have been given just as well in 
article 6, and that in particular the equation of least degree is 
identical for all the transformed dyadics ##&#—1, The fact that 
the scalar invariants of #@ @ #@—1, as shown in article 10, are identical 
with those of # shows that the Hamilton-Cayley equations are the 
same in both cases. The remaining steps to fill in for the purpose 
of establishing the identity of the reduction of # and ¥ # #—1 are 
too obvious to need detail. 


13. The canonical form of a dyadic.—The equation of least degree 
gives the relation 
(54) (b—al)p Ig =0 or (b—aly Ig? = 0 or (Pa—al,)r = 0 
For brevity let 
(55) e—-gia— 7. 
The further classification and reduction of dyadics therefore depends 
on the classification and reduction of nilpotent dyadics. Consider 
the successive powers . 
(56) ZIPS... GER PO: 
These have increasing nullities, but the change of nullity between 
two successive powers never increases. This may be expressed as 


(57) De == 0, Ly ig, 0, 5 Dep ey tg 1 9s 


Lith: +. + bh, 9 0. 

where, by the theorem at the end of article 5, 
(58) p= hi =e »Shp_o S hp-1 

and R-+- hy + hot... + Rp—2+ Rp--1 = m, 

if m be the multiplicity of the root a, where it is understood that 
the next higher double powers of each dyadic must vanish. The 
subscripts therefore denote the number of independent dyads in the 
dyadics. It remains to show that, with the aid of these relations, 








32 E. B. Wilson, 


which correspond to each of the latent roots. It is hardly neces- 
sary at this point to indicate the relation of this result to the 
theory of elementary divisors. Another matter which will be passed 
without examination is the reduction of a real dyadic to a real canon- 
ical form. This is not of importance to the work that follows and 
it was not treated in any detail by Gibbs. All that is essential in 
his treatment of dyadics, as given in his course on multiple alge aaa 
has now been set forth. 


Part I].—Some ALGEBRAIC AND GEOMETRIC APPLICATIONS. 
Square Roots of the Idemfactor. 


14. Involutory strains.—If a strain represented by # be involutory, 

its square is the identical transformation and analytically 
(66) ey (oI) (#+ J) =0. 
Any dyadic which satisfies this equation may be called a square 
root of the idemfactor. The algebraic theory of these square roots and 
the geometric theory of involutory strains correspond, and each may 
be used to study the other.1. Equation (66) is clearly of lowest 
degree, and the latent roots are +1 and —1. As the individual 
factors enter the equation of lowest degree only to the first power, 
the reduction is 

P41) = Lan) = aa) + ag|e@'o +... ae| e's, 

B—1) = Li-1) = egal @epi +... + anle'n. 


Hence 
: k n 
(67) $= Jig y—J-1 = TaqG| e' i—D ail ai 
1 kt 


There are m+ 1 different types of these roots according as ® con- 
tains 0, 1,2, ..., #—1, or m negative signs. The first and Jast are 





1 The relation of involutory strains to the group of unimodular strains 
in the simple case where x —3 has been treated in detail by me in an 
article entitled Oblique reflections and unimodular strains, Transactions 
of the American Mathematical Society, volume 8, pp. 270-298, 1907. 
Reference to the case of three dimensions will be to this article. A 
number of references to the literature of involutory transformations may 
be found there or in my article Involutory transformations in the pro- 
jective group and in its subgroups, The Annals of Mathematics, second 
series, volume 8, pp. 77—86, 1907, where only the most general questions 
are discussed. 


Double Products and Strains in Hyperspace. 33 


respectively the idemfactor and its negative; and the other types 
occur in pairs, namely, 1 and wm—1, 2 and m—2,... which differ 
only by the factor —1.. The number of square roots of type & is 
co2k(n—k). Another form in which #@ may be expressed is 


ke 3 
(68) $’—-+ 1—2za|ai), RS (2) 
1 _ 
n\ . é n 
where (5) is the integral part of 5 and where the relations 


(68) a a=1, «a; a; =0 

hold. For some purposes this form is more convenient. It should 
be remarked that what is important is not the individual antecedents 
and the individual consequents, but the spaces 

ABE, Gey. 12),° Rx) ke oie (cy, i ae ee eh) 

of & and of z—& dimensions which are determined by them. It is 
clear that the spaces AR, and Rp; are invariant under the trans- 
formation #; the former having all vectors identically fixed and 
the latter having all vectors reversed in direction or vice versa, 
according as the — or the + sign is taken with the parenthesis. 

To consider the transformation of vectors in general, it will be 
best to resolve the vectors along the two fixed spaces. Then the 
component along the space identically fixed will remain fixed, and 
the other component will be reversed in direction. It is clear that 
if either of the fixed spaces be taken with all the dimensions of the 
other fixed space except one, the result be a space of w—1 di- 
mensions which will be fixed. The volume of an 7-dimensional region 
is not changed in magnitude or in sign by the even types 0, 2,...; 
and is changed only in sign by the odd types 1, 3... As the 
transformations may evidently be regarded as a generalisation of 
reflection, namely a reflection through the space Ry (a, Go, ... @x) 
parallel to the space Ry; (a1, a, ..., @k) Or vice versa, according 
as the — or + sign is used, the designation ‘oblique reflection’ or 
merely ‘reflection’ will be applied to the geometric counterpart of 
the square roots of the idemfactor. In case the volume does not 
change sign the reflection will be called proper, in other cases it 
will be called improper. And these terms will be used to apply to 
dyadics in general; if #, > 0, the dyadic is a proper dyadic, and 
if Pp < O, it is improper. 

If two square roots of the idemfactor are to be homologous, 
they must be commutative. It is a general theorem in transfor- 
mations that the necessary and sufficient condition that the product 
of two involutory transformations be commutative, is that it shall 
itself be involutory. Hence two square roots of J will be hom- 


Trans. Conn. Acap., Vol. XIV. 3 SEPTEMBER, 1908. 


82 E. B. Wilson, 


which correspond to each of the latent roots. It is hardly neces- 
sary at this point to indicate the relation of this result to the 
theory of elementary divisors. Another matter which will be passed 
without examination is the reduction of a real dyadic to a real canon- 
ical form. This is not of importance to the work that follows and 
it was not treated in any detail by Gibbs. All that is essential in 
his treatment of dyadics, as given in his course on multiple alseniee 
has now been set forth. 


Part I].—Some ALGEBRAIC AND GEOMETRIC APPLICATIONS. 
Square Roots of the Idemfactor. 


14. Involutory strains.—lIf a strain represented by # be involutory, 

its square is the identical transformation and analytically 
(66) t= J, (@-D (P+) =0. 
Any dyadic which satisfies this equation may be called a square 
root of the idemfactor. The algebraic theory of these square roots and 
the geometric theory of involutory strains correspond, and each may 
be used to study the other. Equation (66) is clearly of lowest 
degree, and the latent roots are +1 and -—1. As the individual 
factors enter the equation of lowest degree only to the first power, 
the reduction is 

Pig) = L441) = G01 + Gel a@’o +... axl ae, 

Bi—1) = L-1) = aril eg +... + anle’n. 


Hence 
k n 
(67) $= fay—en = 2 a| e i—D a;| a's. 
1 kt 
There are n+ 1 different types of these roots according as # con- 
tains 0, 1,2, ..., m—1, or m negative signs. The first and last are 





1 The relation of involutory strains to the group of unimodular strains 
in the simple case where x =3 has been treated in detail by me in an 
article entitled Oblique reflections and unimodular strains, Transactions 
of the American Mathematical Society, volume 8, pp. 270-298, 1907. 
Reference to the case of three dimensions will be to this article. A 
number of references to the literature of involutory transformations may 
be found there or in my article Involutory transformations in the pro- 
jective group and in its subgroups, The Annals of Mathematics, second 
series, volume 8, pp. 77—86, 1907, where only the most general questions 
are discussed. 


Double Products and Strains in Hyperspace. 33 


respectively the idemfactor and its negative; and the other types 
occur in pairs, namely, 4 and m—1, 2 and m—2,... which differ 
only by the factor —1.| The number of square roots of type # is 
co2hk (n—k). Another form in which # may be expressed is 

n 


ees | ul 
(68) ’=+([-23a\a:), &< (2) 
1 
: n : 
where (5) is the integral part of 5 and where the relations 


(68’) & @=1, 4a; a; =0 

hold. For some purposes this form is more convenient. It should 
be remarked that what is important is not the individual antecedents 
and the individual consequents, but the spaces 

REG}, O35 -. s,s) Rea ii(Qe Gay 2x. 8B) 

of & and of z—& dimensions which are determined by them. It is 
clear that the spaces R; and ARp-j; are invariant under the trans- 
formation #; the former having all vectors identically fixed and 
the latter having all vectors reversed in direction or vice versa, 
according as the — or the + sign is taken with the parenthesis. 

To consider the transformation of vectors in general, it will be 
best to resolve the vectors along the two fixed spaces. Then the 
component along the space identically fixed will remain fixed, and 
the other component will be reversed in direction. It is clear that 
if either of the fixed spaces be taken with all the dimensions of the 
other fixed space except one, the result be a space of n—1 di- 
mensions which will be fixed. The volume of an 7-dimensional region 
is not changed in magnitude or in sign by the even types 0, 2,...; 
and is changed only in sign by the odd types 1,3... As the 
transformations may evidently be regarded as a generalisation of 
reflection, namely a reflection through the space Ry (a, a, ... @k) 
parallel to the space Rn—s (a1, @,... , @k) Or vice versa, according 
as the — or + sign is used, the designation ‘oblique reflection’ or 
merely ‘reflection’ will be applied to the geometric counterpart of 
the square roots of the idemfactor. In case the volume does not 
change sign the reflection will be called proper, in other cases it 
will be called improper. And these terms will be used to apply to 
dyadics in general; if #, > 0, the dyadic is a proper dyadic, and 
if Py < O, it is improper. 

If two square roots of the idemfactor are to be homologous, 
they must be commutative. It is a general theorem in_transfor- 
mations that the necessary and sufficient condition that the product 
of two involutory transformations be commutative, is that it shall 
itself be involutory. Hence two square roots of J will be hom- 


Trans. Conn. Acap., Vol. XIV. 3 SEPTEMBER, 1908. 


34 E. B. Wilson, 


ologous when and only when their product is a square root of J. 
As the involutory strains of types 0 and m are respectively + / 
and —/, they may be excluded as trivial when referring to the 
product of two. As the product is / when and only when the two roots 
are identical, that case may also be laid aside. In the case of two 
dimensions the only involutory transformation is a¢|@ — |p’. The 
determinant is negative and hence the determinant of the product 
is positive. The product is therefore —J, and it is seen that the 
line through which the reflection takes place in one is the line 
parallel to which it takes place in the other, and vice versa. In 
three dimensions there is a line and a plane entering into the 
characterisation of any involutory transformation, and unless the 
product of two is to be J, it is necessary and sufficient that the 
line of one reflection lie in the plane of the other and vice versa 
if the product is to be commutative. 

Consider next the case of 2 dimensions. Let # denote an in- 
volutory transformation and let 2 by any transformation which is 
commutative with it. Then 

Pia DP Wort, SO 
And 2 = ‘an|@'n + @n=1|@'n—-- - . - 4 e141 — alex 
— 5 — 04] O's 
If (O Carnes (G1, 0an. Senn MtON By Bose se se bns 
2 = By\ a’; + Bo\a’s Sie cateyate Bn|@'n 
and . 2 &2-1= Bal Bn + Ba-11B'n—1 +... + Birtil Bap — Bel Be 


ee he B1| B's. 
If this is to be identical with #, the spaces Ry (fi, Bo,..., Bx) and 
Rx (a, @,..., @k) must coincide, and also the spaces Ry_x (@r41, 
., Bn) and Rn—x (ar4i,..., Qn). Now if it be involutory, the 


transformation between the #’s and a’s in Ay must be involutory ; 
and so must the transformation between the #’s and a’s in Ry_ x. 
If 74, Ya =-* , Ye and yr4y1,.-, , Yn be the fixed elements ofpthe 
involutory transformation ®, it is seen that they all lie in the fixed 
spaces ey and Rn-x <A different way of stating the result is this. 
Let 
pot (OS Glad and! wes en eee z(5) 
1 1 215 
with the spaces Ry, Rn—z and Sj, Sn—i. Suppose A, and S; inter- 
sect in J. Then if the product ¢ # — # @is involutory, FR, inter- 
sects S,-1 in R’;—m and S; intersects Rn, in S‘i-m and the space 
Vi.ti—2 m compounded of R’—m and S’j-m is fixed in the product. 
Furthermore A,-, and Sn»; will have in common a space Tp—4—14+m 
which compounded with 7m gives Vy—r—i42m as a fixed space of 


Double Products and Strains in Hyperspace. 35 


the product. Which of the spaces Vy4i-2m and Vy_-x-i42m is 
identically fixed and which is involutorily fixed depends on the 
sign of 6 #. If the sign is +, V,—x-142m is identically fixed. The 
problem of determining the conditions under which two square 
roots of J are homologous may therefore be considered as solved. 


15. The product of two involutory transformations.—Next consider 
the product of any two involutory transformation, 2 = # #@, where 


k = 

(69) f= + F--2> a;| a) pes EG 3) 
fs 1 
l ms 
p— + (—2 WN £;i| B:) es zt 

1 ~_ 
As @ and ¥ are their own reciprocals, 2-1! = @ # by (14). Hence 
by (35) 
(70) Pe i Cor Pe — re 
On substitution from the relations (30), there results 
(70') Qrs = Qn Qn—h, s, Qn = ats ile 


There arise, then, four different cases of the scalar or characteristic 

equation (40): 

(ia) x" — 2. Kn Sas X27 —...— 22 4° Ds x -1=0; nodd, 2, =0, 
Oe ng a — ot eg 8 ee t+ — 0, meveny i, 0) 
c—-2,4" 1 Oo, x2 —...+0),%° 2, *£+1=0, nodd, &, —0, 
4°— QD, X91 Dog X"—2—...— Do 5 x7 + 2s X-1=0, neven, 2, —0, 

according as z is odd or even and 2 proper or improper. The 

first three of these equations are reciprocal equations, the last is 
not, unless Qns = 0. Thus, if a dyadic can be written as the pro- 
2 

duct of two square roots of the idemfactor, the scalar equation is 

reciprocal except in the case that z is even and the determinant of 

the dyadic is negative. This case is treated later. 

If the number of dimensions is odd, the determinant of —/ is 
negative. Hence the third case in the above list may be reduced 
to the first case by making the simple change of 2 to —2. More- 
over, if the question of interest were to decide whether, given a 
reciprocal scalar equation, every dyadic which satisfied it were 
resoluble into two reflections, it would be sufficient to answer the 
question for dyadics of positive determinant, in case 7 is odd, in- 
asmuch as —/ is commutative with any dyadic. In the fourth case, 
it would be possible to replace 2 by 2 (J—ea\a) or by 2& times 
any reflection of Saipan: —1. But here nothing is gained, 
because the product 2 (J—«\«) may not satisfy an equation of the 


36 EE. B. Wilson, 


second type. In fact, when 2 = 2, a dyadic which satisfies an 
equation of the type x? + ax—1=0 is .not in general resoluble 
into two reflections. The case of the fourth type must be examined 
more in detail. 

Consider the product of two reflections in an even number of 
dimensions and let the determinant of the product be negative. It 
is evident that the two reflections cannot be the same. In fact if 
the types are & and /, it is necessary and sufficient that & + / be 
odd in order,that the determinant of the product be negative. The 
product may then be written in the form 

k l 
One? Sy 87> al = 2 Sasa). Eee 
1 1 

The spaces fj, Bo, .--, Bk, G4, G3, .--, a of the consequents are 
therefore together greater than 7 and must intersect. The trans- 
formation of vectors in this space of intersection is either identical 
or is such as to reserve the direction of each vector without in- 
troducing any other change. In the former case +1 and in the 
latter case —1 is a root of the scalar equation. On substituting 
either of these values in the fourth equation of (71), if is seen that 
Qn = 0. In other words it appears from special considerations 


a 


that the equation of the fourth type is also reciprocal if 2 is the 
product of two reflections. As there is this additional condition in 
this case, the question might arise whether there were not also 
additional conditions in other cases. 

This question may be phrased as follows: Given any reciprocal 
equation 


dete eed 
(72) Hn—G, KH" + dg xP-2 — Nee a6 PR: mae os) 
of degree v, can a dyadic 2 be found such that 
1 1 
(73) Qs = QQ, Qo s— Qo, eee aoe s— aia qi QH=1, so ale = 
a2, N; 
Qn — 7 1 


and such that 2 may be written as the product of two square roots 
of /? Suppose that the roots of (72) with their respective multip- 
licities are 

115 Fi WY SAV ayTa yg SVs), 1a les le oo 3 e ee e 
The dyadic which has these roots may be written as 
(74) 2=7, |e +7 a9] @'9 +... 7% Cm| Om + 7o Om +1| Om +1 

= Vy Copy 329 Grong aagiciae «ae 
aa) PANS to Paleo oo snl ae Bma|B’m + 72} Bmi+1 |B'm: +1 
ae Bmi+2| P'mi+2 arith ee 





Double Products and Strains in Hyperspace. 57 


+ ay| a's pray Cg ect soc Omi +1| O'ms+2 ae 

ats B1| Bo = B2| B's + oe te Pmi+1|P'ms +2 + se 
where the shearing terms in the last two rows may or may not 
occur; and such a dyadic will evidently satisfy the relations (73), 
It remains to ascertain whether 2 is resoluble as desired. 

The answer is negative. For suppose that 2 = #4, where @ 
and ¥ are involutory. It has been seen in article 12 that the 
equation of lowest degree is the same for the set of dyadics which 
are the transformeds of a given dyadic. Now if @ satisfies the 


equation 

(75) 2° —b, 2P—1 +- by QP? — ... bp B* Ebr Bt1i=0, pn, 

of least degree, so will ©2._@—!, But as @ and ¥ are involutory, 
207 —oOr=e2 

and 

(75°) (2-1)p—b, (Q—1)P-! + by (Q—1)P- 2 — ... 1 Op_-s (Q-')? 


bp 12! Se lia) 
Hence, to extend the use of the term reciprocal to equations in 
dyadics, it may be stated that if a dyadic is the product of two 
square roots of the idemfactor, its equation of lowest degree is re- 
ciprocal. This is stating more than equations (72): for the dyadic 
(74) would not in general have an equation of lowest degree which 
was reciprocal. If the equation of lowest degree is reciprocal, the 


1 : : E 
factors 2—a J, QL which correspond to a pair of reciprocal 


1 : 
roots a, — of the scalar equation must enter to the same degree. 


Moreover, from the results of article 13 it is seen that the invariant 
numbers &, k, ko, ..., Rp—1 are the same for a dyadic and its trans- 
formed dyadics. It is therefore clear that the invariant numbers 


é i : 
which correspond to two roots a, 7 Tust be equal in case the 


dyadic is the product of two square roots of 7. The question now 
is whether these conditions are sufficient for such a resolution. 
onside: the spaces it (a, 4; >=... Gmin fu B2s1--- 4 Ors) ane 
S(C@mi-+1, +++, Bmi4.1-.-), made up of the antecedents which cor- 
respond to any root and its reciprocal and of all other antecedents. 
These spaces are fixed and moreover the space R and the space 
S are independent and together contain m independent directions. 
The transformation in two such spaces will determine the trans- 
formation in all space. But the transformation in each of these 
two spaces is such that its scalar equation would also be reciprocal. 
If now the transformation in these spaces of dimension less than 7 


38 £. B. Wilson, 


can be resolved into two reflections, the transformation in #-dimen- 
sional space may be so resolved by merely combining the elements 
through which the transformation takes place in the two spaces R, 
S and the elements along which it takes place. Thus the question 
has been reduced to the same question for a fewer number of 
dimensions provided that there are two independent fixed spaces 
Rand S in 2. 

There remains to consider only the cases where there is just one 


; : 1 5) de Sas Bye 
pair of reciprocal roots a, 7 OF one root which is either +1 or —1. 


The first of these arises when z is even and the type of both re- 


; ie Grae 
flections is = with the z consequents of the two reflections and the 


2 
m antecedents each independent. However, if there is only one 
pair of reciprocal roots, the dyadic may be written in the form 
(76) Q=aay|a'y, @ag|@o+... +4 Gn] O'n + a! Bi|B'1 +a! Bol Bo’ 
Tee 
= aco + a—! Bn | B'n 
Bical 23 
+ ay| a's ia li@igi te. tr > 21] B4-4> Balla 
where it must be assumed that the shearing terms which occur in the 
second row are equal in number for both roots and are similarly 
distributed. Moreover it may be assumed that none of them are 
lacking, namely, that their number is z—-2: for otherwise the rea- 
soning just given for different pairs of roots would apply. The 
transformation may be written in oblique coordinates as 


(76’) G4 = O24, 5 Sha Oy es, Ke hn en 
2) 2 a 
\ fl F 1 ; 1 
Ve = Vy Dae 9, 3 Yun=—-Yn + In 
a a aA Sy ins 


This transformation leaves a quadratic form invariant. _For con- 
sider the terms 


(77) Ay myi+ Ag X21 + Alyy Ky Ae ahs + An Xn 1 
ea 
+ Ay X13 tery aon el CPA La ds i anes An x Xn Mii sin 
yo oe 
+ Aim Vin + Aon X2Vn +Asn X3Yn . +A.n Xsyn .«- (0) 
+Ajin X1Vn + Aon X2Vn +As,n X3Vu Otc. een 
+ Ai,n NVn + Aon X2Vn O 3 Reon ae 5 
prot fer oerL roa et 
+Ai,n Vn O O Se Na eee! 6c 5 Ot 


2 2 


Double Products and Strains in Hyperspace. 39 


Any term A; ; x; yj; may arise only from the possible combinations of 
Ke =A +H, Hep = aX + KH 


P tl F 1 
and VSS iy Pr i 7. 
If A;; x; yj; is to be an invariant term, the relation 
1 
(78) Aij+ 7 Aity 5+ a Ai, 541 + Atty iH = Ai 


must hold. If this be applied to any of the zero terms, it is seen 
that they yield nothing. If it be applied to the terms in the main 
diagonal it is seen that they an invariant. If it be applied to any 
of the terms in the diagonal next above the main diagonal, there 
is established a set of conditions imposed upon the terms of the 
main diagonal, namely, 
Ai,n:Aan >Asn :Aan 3...=1:—a?: at: —a’:. 
2 me Bare ie 

If it be applied to the terms in the next diagonal line, these arises 
a condition to be imposed on the coefficients in the diagonal next 
to the main diagonal, and so on. These conditions are such that 
they may obviously be solved for the ratios of the coefficients in 
the successive diagonal lines. The result in case of six variables 
X1, X9, %3, Vi, Yo, Y3 gives a quadratic form of the type (stars in- 
dicate the possible presence of terms) 





of which the determinant is clearly not zero; and a similar form 
may be written down for any even number of variables. Now, 
Smith? has shown that the transformation of a quadratic form with 
itself may always be resolved into the product of two involutory 
transformations. Hence the dyadic (76) may be factored into the 
product of two square roots of J. 





1 P. F. Smith, On the linear transformations of a quadratic form into 
itself, Transactions of the American Mathematical Society, volume 6, 
pp. 1-16 (1905). The theorem here referred to is found on p. 13. The 
more detailed exposition of the relations between collineations and strains 
is taken up in our next article 16. 


40 E. B. Wilson, 


In case there is only one root +1, it may be assumed that the 
dyadic takes the form 
(79) alot ale'+ BR +B trl tylO+ oll +0le+ele+..., 
in which all the shearing terms occur: for if any of them were 
absent, a reduction to two spaces of lower dimensions could be 
effected as in the case of two pairs of roots. This may be factored. 
In case 2 = 2, 
(80) ala'+ea\e’+ lf =(ale’ — B\B’) (ala’'+ a|s'— BIB) 
where each of the factors is a square root of J. In case m= 8, 
(80’ ale’ + alp’+818'+ Bly +rl7 = 

(a\a’—B|8'+ Bly’ +77) (ale’+ ale’ — Bla +717) 
with similar remarks. Again in case m = 4, the factors are 
(80") ale’ +elP'+B\F+6ly+y7ly+y7|0+6|0 =(ele’— Ble + 
By -+y|7'—d|0 = 2y|0'—B]0) (cle al8 — Ble +77 —7 le ole 
If the root were —1, the factors would be respectively 
—ala'+ a|8'— B|p’=(ale’— B|8')(— al\a’+ a |P'+ BB), 
(80”) ala’ talp'— pie +Bly—rly’ 
=(al\e’— B|B’— Bly’ + yl7’)(—eala’+ al 6+ 6|8’— |r’), 

—alae+alp’— BIP+ Bly —yl7r+7|0— 6|0 = (ale’— B|B'— Bly 
+y|y'—-6|d'+ 2y|0’— Bd’) (—a| a’ +a|p'+8| 8’ —y|y’— y|0+- 4| 0). 

Although this method of factoring could be carried on to higher 
dimensions, it is better to proceed in another way, which at the 
same time will indicate how the factors may be obtained if they 
are not evident. Consider, for example, the case of seven dimen- 





sions, where 
(79) ale tala +ale+elytyrly + rio +66 + dle + ele 
rel Solo + oly + aly’ 
and note that the two expressions 
(81) ale’ +alp’—BIB t+yrly trl —dé|0 +elf +e|o 
— O19 Flay’ 

ale’ — BIB + Bly +yiy—d\|o+dle tele —C|6 +o|n' +y\7 
are obviously square roots of I and that their product has the form 

(79°): ale +a) 8 = BIA Bly aa yly' Pyle 4-010 10 eae 

+ elt) + 6g + Sin + nin’ + alo + 01g. 

This fails to be identical with (79') owing to the extra terms ~|0’ 
+6|¢’. Nevertheless it belongs to the same type of dyadic as that. 
In fact it is true that when a dyadic has been reduced to the form 
(64), which in matricular expression means that the only terms oc- 
curring are those of the main diagonal and some (the shearing 
terms) along the diagonal next above it, then the addition of any 
terms in the half-square whose diagonal is constructed of the # terms 
alert | Bitwulyst..., 1S =, or of the: p-tvterme 





Double Products and Strains in Hyperspace. 44 


| a's + Bl B's teyily's +..., &+-14 S25, and so forth, does 
not effect the nullities of Z, Z°, Z°, ... and hence does not alter 
the type of the dyadic. Hence if the transformation which carries 
(79") into (79') be obtained and applied to the factors (81), the 
factors will take the desired form. 

From the preceding analysis it is seen that in every case either 2 
may be factored or may be referred to similar transformations in 
a less number of dimensions. As the proof that any dyadic which 
satisfies a reciprocal equation has been given when = 2 and when 
n= 3,1 it follows that: The necessary and sufficient condition that 
a dyadic # be factorable into two square roots of the idemfactor 
(or geometrically, that a strain be resoluble into two oblique re- 
flections) is that the scalar invariants 

Ds, Dos, ..- , On—1,5s, On = mr 
be such that the scalar equation is reciprocal and that the sets of 
invariant numbers 
By Rises 5 Mp2; heat 
which correspond to any root and its reciprocal be equal. This is 
the generalisation of the result I obtained for the case n= 3. 


16. Kelations between strains and collineations.—If a strain in x 
dimensions be written as a matrix by chosing the antecedents and 
consequents as reciprocal systems, so that 


(82) 2= Cy |e +1 a \e'o +... + Cindy |a'n 
C91 Gg Oy + Co Gg|a'g +... + Con Go| @'n 
+ Cni Gn | a's + Cnan|a'g +... + Cnn an| en 
and Deepa Lo Oo cite ais an On 
the transformation @ = 2 in oblique coordinates becomes 
(82’) My = Ceti Cigxa +... teint 


Kg = Co, %1 + Coy Xo +... + Con Xn 


GEA =n 1 — Cng Xo a musts + Cnn Xn 











1 It should be noted that in these cases the additional condition that 
the invariant numbers be equal for reciprocal roots is fulfilled necessarily 
as the equation of lowest degree completely characterizes a dyadi¢ when 
na<4. The treatment for x= 3 is given in the first reference of p. 32): 
the treatment for = 2 may be regarded as a special case of that or as 
a special case of the investigation I gave in A generalized conception 
of area: applications to collineations in the plane--The Annals of Mathe- 
matics, second series, volume 5, pp. 29—45 (1903). 


42 E. B. Wilson, 


The ratios +1:%2...:%, of these coordinates may be regarded as 
as homogeneous coordinates in a space of ~—1 dimensions. In 
particular that space may be taken as the space at infinity in the 
original space of 2 dimensions. As the coefficients in (82) can be 
arbitrary, the transformation (82’) is the general projective trans- 
formation in 2—1 dimensions. The correspondence between the 
two is not one to one: for all the equations in (82’) may be multi- 
plied by a constant. In particular the constant may be so chosen 
that the determinant of (82’), which is supposed not to vanish, may 
be + 1.1. Thus the correspondence may be considered to be be- 
tween unimodular strains and the collineations. 

In this correspondence any projective reflection in the (7—1)- 
dimensional space at infinity becomes an oblique reflection of the 
types here considered by merely passing spaces through the fixed 
spaces of the projective reflection and through the origin, and con- 
versely, any reflection in the spaces /t;, Rn; of the v-dirnensional 
space becomes a projective reflection in the plane at infinity and 
with the intersections of that plane and Ay, Ay—x as its fixed spaces. 
In the projective reflection the distinction between the reflections 
of types 0, ” or 1, w—1 or 2, m—2 or ... entirely disappears: there 
is nothing corresponding to reversal of direction, as only the ratios 
of the coordinates are considered. Moreover the Hamilton-Cayley 
equation of the matrix of the coefficients in a projective trans- 
formation may be written 
(83) 22 — 2, Q2-1 + Qo, Qn-~2 —... + Qn—2, 5 2? + Qn-1,52 

ait iy Hl 0, 
without any factors arising from the factor of proportionality which 
may effect the coordinates: for that factor enters into Q;; to the 
power & and into 2,y-; to the power n—&, and hence may be can- 
celed out. If the projective transformation may be resolved into 


— 





the product of two projective reflections the equation for 


” 


V | Qn 
must be reciprocal and the invariant numbers corresponding to a 
pair of reciprocal roots of the scalar equation must be equal. 

The connection with Smith’s work already referred to is inter- 
esting. If a quadratic form in the homogeneous variables in the 
plane at infinity is invariant, under any projective transformation 
of the variables, the same quadratic form must be invariant under 








1 The distinction between +1 and —1 may be disregarded except for 
questions of reality. 


Double Products and Strains in Hyperspace. 43 


the corresponding strain. The interpretation of the form in this 
case gives a quadratic cone issuing from the origin and cutting the 
plane at infinity in the quadratic locus represented by the form in 
the x homogeneous variables. Smith has shown that any trans- 
formation with an invariant quadratic form may be resolved into 
two reflections. From this it is evident that the matrix of any such 
transformation must satisfy a reciprocal Hamilton-Cayley equation 
and that the invariant numbers corresponding to a pair of reciprocal 
roots must be equal. It may be noted that it is not true to say 
that any strain which leaves a quadratic cone issuing from the 
origin invariant is resoluble into two oblique reflections; it is nec- 
essary to add that the strain is unimodular or that the form which 
represents the cone is invariant. 

The question naturally arises whether every projective trans- 
formation which is compounded of two reflections always has an 
invariant quadratric locus, that is, whether the conditions stated for 
resolubility into two reflections are both necessary and sufficient 
for a transformation with a non-degenerate quadratic form in 
homogeneous variables. The answer is negative. To show whether 
any transformation resoluble into two reflection leaves a non-de- 
gerate quadric form invariant, it is merely necessary to examine 
the different cases that may arise. Consider the transformation 


: : 1 ye 
written in the reduced form (76’). Let a@ and © be a pair of roots 


corresponding to no shearing. As far as they are concerned the 
transformation may be written as 








1 4 
ssa MU ee ae UE ag mye 0's NT) =") Mak Bo a 
and the quadratic terms 
[ie ee reli 
on Oe a eo | in OS |e 
ane | 0 | 0 | ee | 0 
0 Ovi eo OE 1 
1 0 0 0 | 0 0 
0 1 0 0 | 
| 0 0 1 0 | 


of non-vanishing determinant are invariant. If there are shearing 
terms, the quadratic terms 





























44 E. B. Wilson, 
Yr 

ath Se = 

Lo s 0 

| Loe ate 

Ga 0 O 

Ys OHO 

3 0% 2/0 




















as seen above are invariant. If a root is +1 without shearing terms 
the invariant terms of the second degree are 














8 
and ‘the determinant does not vanish; and similarly in case of the root 


—1. If there are shearing terms corresponding to +1, the trans- 
formation may be written 

Li Cee oe Koa hy os —— Ke a See 
and are invariant quadratic terms are 























|) Gai De | Dae Lee 
Nir ap ema Mle 0 
2 ee SC Sal POO 
in pease O | O 0 
0 QS? 0 0 








The determinant vanishes if 72> 3, and similarly for the case of 
a root —1. If these sets of quadratic terms corresponding to the 
various roots with or without shearing terms be arranged along 
the main diagonal of a matrix of order , and if all the other spaces 
be filled with zeros, the result is a quadratic form in variables 
which is invariant and which certainly has a non-vanishing deter- 
minant, unless +-1 or —1 is a root with as many as three consec- 
utive shearing terms. 

It therefore appears that there are linear transformations in more 
than three variables which are compounded of two reflections and 
which leave no quadratic surface (with non-vanishing determinant) 
invariant. In other words, the converse of Smith’s theorem is not 
always, although it is generally, true. The simplest example of the 
failure of the converse is in the collineations of three dimensions. 


oS eet Eee 


a tad 


Double Products and Strains in Hyperspace. 45 


The collineation 
ee yay nO Ag 05 Ag, O's —Xe-b ay, 0%, — Xs 
which corresponds to the strain 

2—ala-ale+ ele +elyeriytyzitt+dl 


which has been factored into two reflections which in turn corre- 


spond to 
PT 20X% 1 —%1 +-%, OX 2—— %, Oe A hg Og —— hig, 
Sr 0 X14 %};, 2) X p= — Xo -— X3—NX4;, QO XX 3—=-X3 9) Xa; O as 


leaves no non-degenerate quadratic surface Q (4, %,, %3, %4) =O 
invariant. This is clearly seen from the analysis or from the following 
simple geometric reasoning. The collineation (84) has one and 
only one fixed plane f#. This plane must be tangent to the quadric 
Q: for if it cut the quadric in a true conic, the conic being trans- 
formed into itself must have one fixed point, and the plane tangent 
to QO at this point would also be fixed. The fixed plane pf, which 
is tangent to the conic quadric O must intersect the quadric in two 
coincident straight lines or generators: for the collineation (84) can-* 
not have two distinct fixed lines. But the only quadrics which 
can have a double line in common with a plane are the cones or 
other more degenerate quadrics. Hence the theory of collineations 
compounded of two reflections is not quite identical with the theory 
of collineations which leave invariant a non-degenerate quadric but 
includes it. 


On the Resolution of Strains into Reflections. 


17. The product of a unimodular strain by the simplest reflection. 
Consider a dyadic 2 where 2, = + 1, and a reflection /—26| 6 of 
type 1 where the relation 6 6 =1 holds. The scalar invariants 


X55, Xac,---, Xn—1, ¢ Of the-product 

(85) X = 2 (/—2 6/0), 

are determined by the expressions 

(86) Xt s = [Qr (I—2 6 0) |s k= 2, 3,..., n—1 


If (J—2 6|6), be expanded by the binomial theorem, there are only 
two terms in the expansions, namely, 

(87). (J“26\6); Se —2 Le Glo: 

Hence the scalar invariants take the form 

ee 2. (Sr Tay G|6) 9 = Pes oer © (iv Sol) 

It becomes necessary to investigate the expressions Qi ¢ * (Jh1 “ 60) 


more in detail. It is clear that if the scalar quantity 2; - o (Lis 26 6) 


46 E. B. Wilson, 


be expanded, each term of the expansion will contain a factor of 
the form oa, a factor of the form 8o, and no other factors which 
contains either 6 or 6. In other words, it will be possible to write 
(88) 226 (ha 6 6|6) = Ca)... (PO—c a.)|.) P)o—eeene 
where 3 is some dyadic with antecedents of one dimension and 
consequents of #w—1 dimensions. The form of this dyadic will 
depend only on the dyadic 2 and not at all on its particular mode 
of representation. That is to say, the dyadics 32), 30), ..., B("—-1) 
are invariant dyadics associated with &. 

At first it will be best to treat Z@). Let 2 be written as the sum 

Ole iy 26 BV) aS 5) sea 3 
of any number of dyads. Then 22 will be of the form 
Q=aklak+arylayt+ Briby+ 

Let the idemfactor be 7 = A44’+ uu +vv-+..., and consider the 
value of any term 
(89) (aB\aB) < (Ar Solo) = (@ BAG (a B1' 6) 
A product like «#20 or @B2'6 is called a mixed product in dis- 


tinction to the pure progressive or regressive products. The only- 


formula which will be required here is 
(90) l_a wa ve | 
18 uh vB... 
fa AS LY. iets . 
which expresses the value of the sola oer restlts from multi- 
plying any number (less than 7) of vectors into the same number 
of spaces of #—1 dimensions.} 
From the application of this formula to the case in hand there 
results 





Lie Peep. = 


(aBA6)(Aoas)= 





| ae Se B 
=(a a) (2 a) (8 6) (6 8) —(@4) (8 0) (6 a) (A B) 
— (BA) (6) ) (A a) (6 B) + (8 A) (a6) (6a) (2 B) 

=6[(a@Ai'a)B| B— (aan B)a|B—(BAX a)par(Baa Bala]. 
There is a similar expression for the other terms wu’, vv, ... of L. 
These may then be added together and simplified by the relations 
«le—ae and so forth. The result is that the contribution of 
aBlaB to Z@) is 

(aa) B\B—(ea B) a|B —(B a) Bia + (6B) ale. 

Hence finally 








' See footnote to p. 9. 


Se ee ee es a ae a ae 


Double Products and Strains in Hyperspace. 47 


(91) £27 =Z((@B)ala + (aa) Bp\eB— (a 8) a|B — (a8) B| «|, 
where the summation covers all pairs of antecedents «a, 8, y,... 
of 2. The form of this expression evidently bears out the state- 
ment that the expression is independent of the manner in which 2 
is written: for if @ is replaced by a+ a,, the sum of the terms 
due to a@,8|aP8 and a,8\aB is the same as those due to af| «a, and 
so is it for similar changes in any of the elements that enter into &. 
To pass on to 3() consider the typical product 
oy Gee a| jay ap al 
(aByAuo) (AwoaBby) =o 7B “up Bg | Ba Bu B | 0 
PAP ee ay | LIRA! FU Oy 
The coefficient of the dyad aa is 
ies atl Baal 
8 W012 Bel ae ay aw a)—BrUulew ey 
If this be summed over all pairs of different antecedents of /, the 
result is the term (@y8y) aa of ZS). In like manner the coef- 
ficients of @|8, ay, Bly, ... may be found. In fact the rule for 
writing down the desired term is merely to pick out the two ele- 
ments from the set «fyaPy, leaving the other four to form the 
scalar coefficients with the proper sign (which may be determined 
according to the rule for expanding the determinants above) — thus 
—(ayep)yiB, +(aBes)yi7y, —@Byay)sle 
The extension to Z\) is now immediate. There is no need of going 
into the details. 
If 2 is expressed in matricular form as 
2Q= Saijal aj, 2.=$ 2 ai5j Aim a a| ajA'm, . 
it is possible to calculate 3), 3, ... also in matricular form. 
From (9) 
22) = & Saiz aim((@ ma) a| aj + (a7 a) at| am — (a5 a1) a | om 
—(@m a) a| ¢;] 
= 3 ij Aim (em a) a | &j — Vij Aim (a; ar) | am 
It should be noted that 7== / and 7/=— m, and that terms in the first 
sum vanish unless /—= m, in which case @, @—1: and similarly 
in the second sum 7—/ Hence the coefficient of any dyad 
a | ej in Z() is 
(45+ ail 4 a 1.41) aj | aj 
where the accent on the & indicates that those terms for which the 
variable index is equal to either of the fixed indices are to be 
omitted. These sums may be written in the form 
et) za +2 pecaae Wr aj. (¢—2) ¢—7)=|=9. 
Eject aj ai . 


48 E. By Wilson, 


Analogously to (91) the formula for Ee) ) is 
(92) ZQ—S[(Py By) aelat(ayeay) Bs B+ (a 3 aB)yly 
3 (i vey) al\B+(eBBy)aly—(B va v) Ble 
— (abu Bly +7 af) y\a-— (a7 eB) 7B} 


And 
Oh = a5 Ai 7 Aim Ay q Cy Cl Wp| Cj. O'm a 2 Dp all ae 
6 BR EE EAE rae et fap ve ruta 
After making the necessary substitutions and reductions, it ap- 
pears that 
(92°) “| Yj Ul Aim 
=e) — aos Lin (Gg ULAim | el @; 


| Am 7 Int An m | 
where the double accent on ¥ means that / and m cannot be equal 
among themselves nor equal to 7 or 7, Moreover the equal results 
obtained from /=a, m—6 and from /=6, m=a have been ac- 
counted for. The formula for Z( is the obvious generalisation of 
the results for 3!) and Z@). The result tor = may be stated in 
words: To find the coefficients of «@;| @; in =, form a determinant 
of the #th order from the matrix of 2 by taking as the main 
diagonal aj; and any combination (not permutation) of k—1 of the 
elements in the main diagonal of 2 excluding a,j, aj; and add the 
determinants of all possible combinations. 

With the aid of these dyadics it is possible to express the in- 
variants of the product of a dyadic and /—26\6. Let 


(85) X= 2 1—2 o|0) 

Then 

(93). Xs = 2s — 2626, Xrs—Ly5—= 2 6 5 6, k= 2,3). ee 
Xn = — Qn 

A similar result could be obtained for the product 

(94) XO Oreo = 2 |) 


Here however, the expansion by the binomial theorem is 

(2 o|6 == 2. 7la)y, (6) ottlr+4 is * Grou 
and hence ‘ 
(94°) Xks=2rs— 205) 6-27 AMT +4AD Ese (Le—2 x 6t| 67) 
The term Qe & (J:-2% 6t| 67) could be treated as Q0% (Ih_-1% 6|T) 
was treated; and the invariant dyadic which resulted would be of 
the second type, that is, the antecedents would be of the form e« ~ 
and the consequents of the form «. In like manner for products 
with more complex square roots of 7, would yield invariant dyadics 
of higher types. The study of these dyadics will not be taken up 
at this time. 





Double Products and Strains in Hyperspace. 49 


The converse problem is interesting, namely, given a dyadic Q, 
to find what dyadics may result from the product 2 (J—2 6|o) by 
a suitable choice of the reflection 7—2.6\6. Consider the scalar 
invariants of the baa a The determinant of the product must be 
the negative of 2,. Suppose it be desired to make the other scalar 
invariants take assigned arbitrary values. This amounts to the so- 
lution of the equations 


(96) G26=/ G2 iho 
6 226m or =o (2) —mI)o=—0 n—1 equations 
6 EB G=p o(z Foal eee 


under the condition 66-0. e ike: tore it amounts to finding 
a space o which shall contain (Q —/J)o, (Z?)—m/)o,... but not 
contain ¢. Suppose the roots of 2 are distinct and for simplicity 
letin—4. Then 
Q=aala +bBlB+ervly +dolv 
(96) B-—a(b+c+d)alad+6 (e+d+a) B\B +c(d+a+d)yly 
| @ (2-0-6) 0/0" 
Be) —a(bc + bd+ cd) ale +b(cd+ca+da) B|p 
+c(da+db+ab)y\y +d(ab+ac-+ bc) 8|6 
o=—xatyB+yy+wo 
The three vectors (Q—-/1)o, (5@)—mT)o, (3@) —pJ)o are easily 
written down and the desired 6 may be passed through them un- 
less the condition 
(97) |(a—/) x [a(6+c+d)—m]«x |a(bc+bd+cd)—p|x x| 
\(6—A)y [b(c+d+a)—mly [b(cd+ca + da) ~ Al: yoy 
(c—l)z [c(d+a+6)—m]z2 [c(da+db+ab)—p|2 
(d—/)w [d(a+ 6+ c)—m|w |d(ab+ac+bc)—flw w 
which expresses the fact that they lie in a 3-dimensional space 
with o, holds. This may be reduced to the simpler form 
Pamia a(o--¢c4-d) a(be+-bd+eca) 1) 
16 b(c+b+a) b(cd+catda) 1|_ 
c e(dta+b) e(dat+db+ab) 1 Fi (a, 6,¢,d)=0 
Gaia 04-0 )s did 4- a6 4 pe) 1) 
This is a polynomial of degree 6 in a, 6, ¢, d. It is obvious that 
the polynomial will vanish if any two of the roots are equal. Hence 
(97") P,(a, 6, c,d) = k (a—b) (a—c) (a—d) (b—c) (6—d) (c—a), 
and according to the supposition that the roots are distinct P; == 0. 
From this it follows that if the roots of 2 are distinct, a reflection, 
I—26\6 of type 7 may be found which will make the product 
2 (1—2 o\6) take such a form as to have any desired scalar in- 
variants, with the exception of the determinant which is —2, 


Trans. Conn. Acap., Vol. XIV. 4 SEPTEMBER, 1908, 


= 





50 E. B. Whlson, 


Moreover it appears that the choice of o is arbitrary except that it 
shall not lie in any of the invariant spaces of m—1 dimensions. 
The result is stated for 2 dimensions because the proof is the same 
as for four. In particular these scalar invariants may be chosen so 
as to make the Hamilton-Cayley equation of the product a recip- 
rocal equation with distinct roots, and hence the product is resoluble 
into two reflections. Geometrically this means that a reflection of 
the first type may be found in co”! ways such that the product 
of the reflection and any collineation (or any unimodular proper 
or improper strain) which has distinct roots is resoluble into two 
reflections. In other words, 2 in this case is always resoluble into 
three reflections, or analytically may be regarded as the product 
of three square roots of the i1demfactor. 


18. Some special cases of the product.—The theorem which has 
just been established for the general case where the roots of 2 
are distinct may be extended. It is clear that @ may be such 
that the product 2 (J—2 o|o) cannot have arbitrary scalar invariants: 
for if 2 were a reflection the product would have to have such 
invariants as to make a reciprocal equation. It may, however, be 
shown that: If the Hamilton-Cayley equation of a dyadic 2 is the 
equation of lowest degree, the choice of a reflection /—2 6|6 may 
be made in co”-! ways so that the scalar invariants of the product 
Q ({—2 o|o) are arbitrary with the exception of the determinant 
which is —@2n. It should be noted that the condition that the 
Hamilton-Cayley equation be identical with the equation of lowest 
degree is equivalent to saying that in the canonical form (64) to 
which the dyadic may be reduced all the shearing terms correspond- 
ing to equal roots must be present. If 2 — 4 the possible cases are 


(98) 2Q=aca '. bs 2a ee 2a ea : 
arm ho +a PB ny +a eel 
ee YY see es 219 ee i 
+4568 +458 + @éee"? 
D4 ae f 
; 2 The vertical bar has 
ae ; 


; been omitted for brev- 
sh CUM aes 

Ba ee 
As the proof of theorem in general involves great detail, and at 
the same time general reasoning on tolerably varied and involved 
formulas, it will be well to carry the computation through in these 
cases, after which the general cases will offer no particular difficulty. 
The expressions for 3@) and ZF) in each of the cases above are 


(98°) 


(99) 


Double Products and Strains in Hyperspace. 51 


BB?) —a(atet+d)ac’ =A—a(actad+cd)aca 
adc 0) Ap pig mse + a(ac+ad-+ cd) BB NAS 
6 (@-+-0—-a) yy ened day 
+ d(a+a+c) 6S + d(ac+ ac+aa)ds 


E2)a(2Qatd) aa } =3)—a(a?+2ad)ac’ 


a(2a+d) aan cpt ie voitay ta(ar+2ad) aa tere? dary 
a(2a+d) yy? OTOP) +a(a-+2ad) py (OOP? 
d(2a+ a) dS -+-d(a®+2a?) 5d 
5°?) —a(Bajaad E38) —a(3a)aa’ 
+ a(8a) p ae 5 hae — ay + a(8a?) 6B pee macy, 
+ a(3a) yy on A —BO + a(3a?) yy" ses Sia aod 
AG aaa egaaed Te ee 
B%Q—alat2zcac,. | E3)—a(ac+c) aa’ | ; 
+a(a aa COP Wiedc+ ayes. ap 
pee c+2ayyy +c(Qact@)yy | 
+e(c+2a) so P2470 + ¢ Qacta) 6c TV 79 


In the first case the condition that the solution desired be im- 
possible is 


(a—l) x+y |[a(a+e+d) —m|x-+(c+d)y [alac-+ad+cd)—p|x+cdy x 
(a—l)y  [a(ate+d)—mly |a(ac+-ad-+cd)—fply y 
(c_)z2 |c(atat+d)—m\z [c(ad+ad--aa) — p|z Zien 
(d—l)w = [d(a+a+c)—m]|w [d(ac+-ac-+-aa)—p|w zw 


Here the last column may be multiplied by /, m, p, and subtracted 
from the first, second, third columns respectively, and thus the /, 
m, p disappear; the w, 2, y of the last three lines may be canceled 
out; the second line may be multiplied by x and substracted from 
the first and then the y in that line disappears. Finally the second 
line may be subtracted from each of the last two. The condition 
reduces to 
(99’) fea e=-a ca 
@, -a(@--c-d4)  a(ac4-aad--ca) 
c—a (c—a)(a+d) (c—a) ad 
d—a (d—a)(a+c) (d—a)cd 
Here it still is clear that even if the factors c—a and d—a are 
stricken out the expression will vanish if @ equals c or d or if ¢ 
and d are equal. As the expression is only of degree five, it must 
be of the form 
(99") P; (a, c, d) = k (c—a)? (d—a)? (c—d). 
Hence P; does not vanish unless two of the roots a, c, d are equal. 
The second case is between the first and third. In this case it 
turns out that the polynomial to which the determinant reduces is 


= 0, 


Sis) i> ©) 


52 EE. B. Wilson, 


P; (a, d) = k (d—a? 
and cannot vanish unless a and d are equal. In the third case the 
determinant is 


(OO) Naa y 3a?x + 2ay—z 3ex+ay—azt+w «| 
ax+2 38e@y+2az—w 3a y+a?z—aw BA ey 
azt+w 3a2+2aw 302+ a2w ol eee 
aw 3aw 3a w w 


where the 4 m, p have been omitted as they obviously go out by 
the same reasoning as before. Here the w factors out of the last 
row, which may then be multiplied by «2, vy, ¢ and subtracted re- 
spectively from the first, second, third rows. The w then factors 
out of the third row, which may be multiplied by vy, z and subtracted 
from the rows above. Now the factor w drops out of the second 
row, which may be multiplied by zg and subtracted from the top row 
whereupon the y drops out. The condition is reduced to 
(100’) Onru Oa rly eee 
0 a ——— 
an eee Gt AOm ew, aN 
| Gy sa isa ok 

which is clearly unfulfilled. 

The last case is instructive, because it illustrates the dependence 
and independence of different repeated roots. The condition is 
(OD | Garey “ai(@ 20) —62y C2061. 6) Cee | 


ay Qa 20) a) a(2ac4-c*)y Bae 
ci-pw ele Zaye aw c(2ac.-@)e--¢ 2a 
cw c(¢e+2a)w c (2ac + a’) w w 


The y, w of the second and third lines go out, and a reduction 
similar to that given before removes the x, z. It is this possibility 
to get rid of the coefficients in the expression for 6, which shows 
that these coefficients may have any values other than 0. The 
condition reduces to 


(101) 1 15): 2 0 
BAGG) nd (2aC Cat : 
1 J a 0 | a 

[kG welsh 2m) Ve@ee taza | 


which amounts to merely 
(101°) P, (a, ¢) = k (a—c)* 
and cannot vanish. 

The foregoing cases are typical of all that can arise. With regard 
to the case where z has any value the following remarks will 
suffice. Suppose that 2 has & repeated roots’ a. Construct the 
half square upon the portion of the main diagonal of 2 correspond- 


Double Products and Strains in Hyperspace. 53 


ing to these roots. The shearing terms will be £—1 in number 
and will be situated in the next diagonal line. In constructing 2(?) 
there will be shearing terms in the corresponding line. Moreover 
the next diagonal line will contain terms to the full number k—2: 
but there will be no other terms in the half square. In construction 
=(3) there will be terms in these two lines and also in the line third 
removed from the main diagonal. And so on until 4(-) has a 
term in the corner of the half-square. Such is the case for every 
set of repeated roots. All the other terms will be lacking in 4), 
43), .... These results are all obvious consequences of the 
determinantal definition of the coefficients in 7), 3), .... The 
determinant which must not vanish if the solution of the problem 
is possible will reduce to the discriminant of the roots of 2, 
where however the differences which correspond to repetitions of 
the same root have disappeared. This is the only change: for the 
differences which correspond to different repeated roots occur as 
many times as the product of the multiplicities of those roots. 

The proof of these general theorems is carried out by mathe- 
matical induction. It is merely necessary to show that, on the 
assumption that the results are true for any given distribution of 
roots, they still remain true when the number of roots and the 
number of dimensions is increased by one, whether by adding a 
root equal to one already existing or different from all those 
present. In any given case the proof is very simple; but on the 
assumption that there are & roots of multiplicities mi, m2, ..., mx 
the notation becomes very cumbersome. As there is no other 
difficulty than this, it seems hardly worth while to insert the general 
proof at this point. The geometrical consequences of the theorem 
of this article are: That any collineation or strain of which the 
Hamilton-Cayley equation is the equation of lowest degree may be 
converted by multiplication with a reflection /—o|o, which may 
be chosen in co”-1 ways, into a collineation or strain which has 
roots arbitrary except that their product must be the negative of 
the product of the roots of the given collineation or strain. In 
particular these roots may be chosen in such a way that the re- 
sulting collineation or (unimodular) strain may be resolved into 
two reflections. 


19. On the product of a strain and a reflection—Although it is 
evident that no reflection of type 1, nor any reflection of any type 
can be found which will make the scalar invariants of the product 
of any given unimodular strain and that reflection arbitrary, and 


54 E. B. Wilson, 


that therefore the method adopted in the last two articles for 
showing that such a strain may be resolved into three reflections 
must break down in some of the special cases (for instance when 
the given strain is itself a reflection), the theorem that any strain 
is resoluble into three properly chosen reflections is strongly 
suggested. If 2 be a strain and @ a reflection, the necessary and 
sufficient condition that 2 @ be resoluble into two reflections is seen 
from article 15 to be that the Hamilton-Cayley equation of Q@ 
shall be reciprocal, and that the invariant numbers which corre- 
spond to a pair of reciprocal roots of the scalar equation shall be 
equal. The first part of this condition is not hard to state and, in 
the simplest cases, to examine. The last part of the condition ap- 
parently requires very detailed consideration. ; 

For the present purposes the fourfold division of the problem, 
according as z is odd or even and &, is + 1 or —1, may be some- 
what abridged by the use of (70). If X—@@, the conditions be- 
come 


(102) Xis=Xpy, k< EG), Xns=0 


with the supplementary condition necessary aie when z is even 
and the determinant of the product Xn — — 1, and with the further 
condition that the invariant numbers which correspond to any pair 
of reciprocal roots of X must be equal. These are the necessary 
and sufficient conditions that 2 be resoluble into three reflections. 
In case @ happens to be of type 1, these conditions reduce to 


(102’) O12 oe) (O, 2) 120, 
o [BO —B-Y— 4 (Q5—Qj,) 1]a=0, 1< hk < E(2), 
oz) — 
andi # 1s even and X,,— 1, 22s I\o—0 
where 3(-" has been written as an BUBLevien for the &th in- 
variant dyadic Z associated with 2-1. Thus there are E : equa- 
tions to be satisfied in case z is odd, or in case m is even and 
: n 
Xn=—1; but if ” is even and X,—-+-1 there are only E\ 5) — 


equations to be fulfilled. In all cases they must be satisfied sub- 
ject to the restriction oo=|=0. If & were of type 2, or higher up 


n 
to type £ it the conditions which would be analogous to (402’) 


might be expressed in terms of the invariant dyadics of higher class 
referred to in article 17 but not investigated. 





Double Products and Strains in Hyperspace. 55 


The connection of the conditions (102°) with work which has 
already been accomplished is this. In case 7 — 2, the only reflection 
is of type 1 and if 2,——1, X,—-+ 1, there is no condition to be 
fulfilled. Hence the transformation 2 may always be written as 
the product of three reflections. If 2,—-+-1, the Hamilton-Cayley 
equation of 2 is necessarily reciprocal and ® is resoluble into two 
reflections. These results are well known; and as far as collineations 
are concerned there is no distinction between the two cases except 
as regards reality. If #—283, there is only the one reflection, which 
is of type one, (except for its negative) and only one condition — 
which may always be satisfied... Hence in three dimensions the 
resolution into three reflections is always possible. In case n—4 
and @ is of type 1 and 2,——1, there is still only one condition 
(102°) to be satisfied, and it can clearly be satisfied: but another 


: : . ; 1 
difficulty arises owing to the fact that if a, a are double roots of 


the product X, it may conceivably arise that for all reflections @ 
which satisfy the condition there may be a shearing term for one 
of the roots and none for the other, so that the supplementary 
condition concerning the invariant numbers would not be fulfilled. 
In a delicate question of this sort a count of constants is of no 
value; a detailed investigation of the product X is required. 
Whereas if 2, —-1, there are two conditions (102’) to be satisfied 
simultaneously, and in view of the developments of article 47 it is 
by no means evident that this may always be accomplished. If ® 
is of type 2 and 2,——1, there are again two conditions (102) 
to satisfy, not to mention the conditions imposed by the invariant 
numbers, and again it is not obvious that they can be met. If 
however 2,-—-+1, Smith’s theorem previously cited, and arising 
out of the special fact that a collineation in four homogeneous 
variables may be regarded as a collineation in six variables with 
an invariant quadratic form, may be adduced to show that all the 
conditions (102) may be satisfied. If > 4, the difficulties signalised 
for the first three cases when 2—4, are further emphasized. 

To show that these difficulties are not only conceivable but ac- 
tually arise, it is worth while to treat the simplest case. Suppose 
(103) 2=aala'+aé@\e+ayly +a36|6', Q9=4+1, O=1—2 ol0 
Here there are two conditions so satisfy, namely 
(104) o[2— 2-'— }$(2, — 2") I]o=0, ofF@ —423,1|o=0. 





‘ This is precisely the condition of my theorem 23, p. 295, of my 
communication to the Transactions cited in the footnote on page 32 


56 E. B. Wilson, 


As ® possesses six degrees of freedom, a count of constants would 
indicate that the two conditions could be satisfied. The actual 
computation is conducted as follows.1 
2Q-=—a-aja +ae\e +ayly +aAd|C 
Qs =8a+a—, QF'=38a-!+ 4, 225 = 25 ,— 380° +3a-, 
B—=a(2a+a-—*) a|a+a(2Qa+a-%) | +a (2a+a-%)y|y +3a—-2 60, 
2) —$ Qo sl=4(@ —a-) [ala + ele +yly —36|6] 

2 — 2-14 (Qs, — Q-") 4 (a— a1) (aa)? (ala +816 +717) 

— (a+ 4+ a) 6|d| 
From these expressions, it is found that [2 — 2-1— 4 (2, —@7!) Io 
and [E'?)— 4} 2 s/|o are § (a—a—!) [AxatAyp+Azy— Awd) 
and 4(a?— a-?) [xa+yP+2y—3wd| 
where A—(a+a-—), A =a@+4+a-2, o=xat+ypt+ey+wo. 
Neither of these vectors vanishes identically unless a— a—!1—0 or 
a’? —a~?=—0, that is, unless a is a square root or fourth root of 
unity. From the form of the vectors it is clear that they cannot 
be collinear unless 

VAT eas a+2a-2 a?+4+aq-2 

| fe 18 1 3 
In the first case a must be a sixth root of unity, and in the second 
the two vectors are both parallel to o. As the constant a in 2 may 
be arbitrary, the first case can be excluded, and the second violates 
the condition oo=|=0. Hence it may be assumed that the two 
vectors are independent and determine a plane through which any 
6 must pass. But this plane clearly contains @ inasmuch as any 
three rowed determinant from the matrix 

Ax Ay Az Aw 

2 y ly O20) 

oe Vie ae w 


=2(a+1+a-*) =—0 or w— ©. 








vanishes. Hence again the condition oo =|= 0 is violated, and it is 
evident that despite the six degrees of freedom, no reflection @— 
I—2o|o can be chosen such that the conditions (104) may be 
fulfilled, and Q@® may (possibly) be resoluble with two reflections. 
It is necessary to try a different type of reflection. As a matter of 
fact Smith’s theorem happens to be applicable to this particular case. 

The detailed discussion of the various difficulties which arise in 
the different special cases must be postponed to a later time. There 
is one question which will be suggested and left as an easy exercise 
in the use of the dyadics = It is geometrically apparent that, if 





1 Tt may be noted that in the fourth line down X5 = HO) —} 6 al 


would be the negative of the given value as it should be. 





Double Products and Strains in Hyperspace. 5 


~I 


Q is itself resoluble into two reflections, then it must be possible 
to find a reflection # of type 1 such that the product 2 @ is still 
resoluble into two reflections, and consequently the conditions (102’) 
must be capable of fulfilment in this case. 

The results of the second part of this paper may be summarised 
as follows: 

1°, The determination of the square roots of the idemfactor by 
means of the properties of the equation of least degree. 

20, The determination of the necessary and sufficient conditions 
that a dyadic be resoluble into the product of two square roots of 
the idemfactor. 

3°, The correlation of these results with the theory of reflections 
in connection with unimodular strains and with collineations. And 
in particular, the fact that not all products of two reflections leave 
a non-degenerate quadric invariant. 

4°, The introduction of invariant dyadics 7 and their application 
to the problem of finding the scalar invariants of the product 2@. 

5°. The fact that in case the Hamilton-Cayley equation of 2@ 
is the equation of lowest degree, there may be found a ® = /—20\6 
such that the scalar invariants of the product are arbitrary. The 
corollary that in such cases, if 2,—+41, 2 be written as the 
product of three square roots of the idemfactor with the appro- 
priate interpretation in the theory of reflections. 

6°. The determination of the necessary and sufficient conditions 
that a dyadic be resoluble into the product of three square roots 
of the idemfactor, with an example to show that it is not always 
possible to take a square root of type 1 as the first of the three. 


Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 
Boston, Mass., December, 1907. 





1 


Pk OF: Ger AY 
OF SOlENCES 
TRANSACTIONS OF THE 


CONNECTICUT ACADEMY OF ARTS AND SCIENCES 


INCORPORATED A. D. 1799 


YOLUME 14, PAGES 59-170 DECEMBER, 1908 








The Morphology 
of Ruppia Maritima 


BY 


ARTHUR HARMOUNT GRAVES, Ph.D. 


INSTRUCTOR IN BOTANY IN YALE UNIVERSITY 


PUBLISHED UNDER THE AUSPICES OF 





NEW HAVEN, CONNECTICUT 
1908 





CONTENTS 


PLATES I -XV. 


PAGES 
INTRODUCTION . : 65 
MORPHOLOGY OF THE VEGETATIVE ORGANS 69 
STEM 69 
A. Goleral (Ghamacters 69 
B. Branching : : ; 69 
1. Branching in Ruppia maritima 69 
a. Vegetative Branch System 69 
b. Inflorescent Branch System 71 

2. Comparative Study of the Branching of the Patanoae: 
tonaceae : ° ; : ; te 
C. Anatomical Structure 74 
1. Growing Point : 74 
2. Stem Structures in the Wemctitive Region 75 
a. Upright Stem 75 
(1) Epidermis 75 
(2) Cortex : 75 
(a) Outer Cortex . 76 
(b) Middle Cortex Crs 
(c) Inner Cortex . CE 
(3) Endodermis 78 
(4) Vascular System 73 
(a) Course of Vascular Bundles 78 
(b) Structure of Vascular Bundles 80 
b. Rootstock . : 82 
3. Stem Structures in the Floral Repion 83 
a. Peduncle 83 
(1) General Characters 83 
(2) Anatomical Structure 83 
(3) Coiling of the Peduncle 85 
b. Rhachis ; 85 
c. Stipe . 85 

4. Brief Comparative Goad of the Sten eons a ie 
Potamogetonaceae 86 
Lear , 86 
A. ae nisvcoai of ianald ot ere 86 
B. Arrangement 86 
C. Ordinary Foliage Beste es ST 


62 A. H. Graves, 

PAGES 
1. The Leaf Blade 89 
a. Epidermis . 90 
(1) Chloroplasts oi PU 
(2) Marginal Teeth . . 90 
(3) Secretion Cells . 90 
(4) Absence of Stomata . 91 
b. Subepidermal Layer Jl 
c. Vascular System 91 
(1) Course of Vascular Bandies 91 
(2) Structure of Vascular Bundles 92 
d. Lacunae 92 
e. Comparison with Other Ta amague avs eere 92 
2. The Stipular Sheaths 93 
a. Structure 93 
b. Development 93 
ce. Function Os 
d. Morphological and atonphowencire Considerumane 95 
3. Axillary Scales 96 
a. General Characters and vatocaee 96 
b. Function 97 
D. Subfloral Leaves 97 
KE. Scale Leaves 98 
1. The Vegetative Sc ale Teese 99 
a. General Characters Si 
b. Internal Structure op abe 
2. The Floral Scale Leaf . : si 
a. General Characters and Structure . : 99 
3. Orientation of Scale Leaves in Floral Region . 100 
4. Summary of Distinguishing Characters : 101 
5. Morphological and Physiological Nature of Scale hee 102 
6. Comparison with Other Potamogetonaceae 102 
Roor 102 
A. General Ghani’ 102 
B. Root Arrangement 103 
C. Anatomical Structure 104 
1. The Coleorrhiza 104 
2. The Growing Point of the Bnet 108 
3. The Anatomy of the Mature Root 109 
a. Epidermal Region 109 
(1) The Root Hairs 110 
b. Cortex 111 
c. Endodermis bl 
d. Vascular System 112 

e. Brief Comparative Study of ages of Other Potames 
getonaceae : : $ 112 


D. Functions of the Root. 


113 


EE 


a 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 63 
PAGES 
ECOLOGY OF THE VEGETATIVE ORGANS 115 
INTRODUCTORY ; 115 
Hypropuytic ADAPTATIONS 116 
A. The Shoot 116 
1. Gross Meratelepical Mteptcpole 116 
2. Internal Structural Adaptations 117 
a. Epidermal Modifications 117 
b. Development of Air Spaces 118 
c. Absence of Mechanical Tissue 119 
d. Reduction of the Vascular aes 119 
B. The Root 120 
1. Gross Madgaoloeical Misatatione, 120 
2. Internal Structural Adaptations 121 
a, Air Spaces 121 
b. Reduction of the Geecular Sy stem 121 
Hatopuytic ADAPTATIONS 121 
A. General | 121 
B. The Adaptation to a ‘Salt Water Bnaerommnent 122 
ADAPTATION AND HEREDITY 126 
SUMMARY 126 
REPRODUCTIVE ORGANS 128 
MorpHoLocy oF THE FLOWER 128 
FrioraLt DryELOPMENT 130 
MicrosPoRANGIUM 131 
MEGASPORANGIUM 135 
FrmMaLe GAMETOPHYTE 136 
Mae GAMETOPHYTE 139 
POLLINATION . 143 
FERTILIZATION 144 
ENDOSPERM 145 
EMBRYO : 146 
FRUIT AND SEED 156 
SEEDLING 158 
SUMMARY OF PARIS ON R E PRODUCTIVE ORGANS, EM. 
BRYO, &ec. 160 
SUMMARY OF RELATIONSHIPS TC O OTHER PO TAMOGETON- 
ACEAE 162 
BIBLIOGRAPHY . 165 


EXPLANATION OF PL ATES 


170 











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INTRODUCTION 


Of late years there has been manifested a tendency toward a 
systematic investigation of the internal structure of plant species, 
as contrasted with the more superficial description of external 
characters by systematists. For although, as stated by Campbell 
(1897), a description of external characters “is usually quite suffic- 
ient for the mere identification of a plant, and for determining its 
relation to nearly allied forms, it is quite inadequate for settling 
questions of relationship between more remote groups, and espec- 
ially those of obscure affinities.” 

This movement has been directed especially to the study of the 
origin and development of the sexual generation in Spermatophytes 
and the problems of embryology in this group, resulting in an over- 
whelming mass of literature on these subjects. 

But, in the meantime, it is commendable that some botanists have 
also directed their attention to a study of the internal structure of 
the vegetative organs; for it-is only by a complete account of the 
development and structure of the whole plant, together with its 
life history, that we can hope to acquire sufficient knowledge for 
the solution of one of the most interesting and vitally important 
problems in all plant morphology—i. e., the interrelationship of the 
various plant groups. 

Some of the recent works of Campbell (1897, 1898) are most 
noteworthy in presenting in this way a connected account of several 
species, especially certain little understood monocotyledons. 

The present work, extending over a period of five years, was 
undertaken with a similar purpose; and seeks to comprehend, as 
far as possible, a connected account of the development and structure 
of the plant organs, together with the life history, of one of the 
simpler monocotyledons, Ruppia maritima. 

The Potamogetonaceae of Ascherson (1889) to which the genus 
Ruppia belongs, comprise an interesting family of remarkably simple 
plants. As to whether this simple structure represents a primitive 
or a reduced condition is an extremely important question, but in 
the present state of our knowledge a clear, unassailable verdict on 
either side is impossible. A discussion of this point will, however, 
be postponed for the present. 


66 A. H. Graves, 


A few remarks may be in order here as to the literature which 
relates to the subject of this paper, and which I have found most 
helpful in its preparation. Ascherson (1889), in Engler and Prantl’s 
Natiirliche Pflanzenfamilien, cites the most important references 
bearing on the Potamogetonaceae up to the date of his contribution. 
Among these, the papers on Althenia by Prillieux (1864), Cymodocea 
by Bornet (1864), and Zostera by Grénland (1851) are valuable 
for their contributions to the morphology of these allied plants. 
In this respect, also, the works of Irmisch (1851 and 1858) are 
remarkable for the accuracy with which they describe the external 
morphological relations of FR. roste/lata and other Potamogetonaceae. 
Of later works, which are especially useful in a comparative mor- 
phological study of the vegetative organs, are, among others, those 
of Sauvageau (1891, II), Campbell (1897) and Goebel (1898). As 
to ecological considerations pertaining to water plants, the work of 
Schenck (1886) deserves especial mention. In the preparation of 
the parts on the reproductive organs, embryo, &c., the works cited 
are too numerous to mention here, and the reader is referred to the 
bibliography (p. 165). 

If we except a rather doubtful reference of Hofmeister, (1861, 
Figures 1—7, Pl. II, and see p. 148 of this paper), the only investigation 
of Ruppia maritima which has ever been published, so far as I can 
ascertain, is that of Roze (1894), who describes chiefly the con- 
ditions of fertilization, but also presents a valuable historical review 
of the whole genus, Others, it is true, such as Miss Scott (1906) 
and Chrysler (1907), have dealt with special features of the plant, 
in the course of their comparative morphological investigations. 

Ruppia rostellata, on the other hand, if we piece together the 
results of various observers, has been pretty thoroughly worked out. 
First Irmisch (1851 and 1858) described carefully its external mor- 
phological characters; next, Wille (1883) studied the development 
of the embryo, and quite recently Murbeck (1902) published an 
admirable paper on the reproductive organs and embryo. 

The genus Ruppia is aquatic, characterized by its long, linear, 
grass-like leaves with basal sheaths, and grows in brackish and salt 
water (but probably never salt water of normal ocean strength, 
see p. 124), in creeks and bays along the coast and in the neigh- 
borhood of inland salt springs, throughout all parts of the temperate 
and tropical zones. Except at low tide it is completely submerged 
until the period of flowering, when it produces its flowers a short 
distance (1-3 cm.) above the surface of the water. The flowers, 
always two to each peduncle, are borne one above the other, on 





The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 67 


opposite sides of the rhachis, the latter being homologous to a 
spadix, but not at all fleshy. The flowers are naked and consist 
of two practically sessile anthers, each with its two large sacs or 
thecae separate and arranged transversely on the rhachis, making 
a diamond-shaped arrangement, in the center of which is a group 
of pistils, always four in number in the specimens I have examined 
(Pl. IX, fig. 49)" After the shedding of the pollen, the pistils if 
fertilized develop a stipe or pedicel of considerable length (PI. IV, 
fig. 13). The peduncle, or floral axis, however, elongates whether 
fertilization is consummated or not. After fertilization the fruit is 
drawn below the surface of the water, the elongated peduncle 
usually coiling up to aid in this process (see p. 85). 

In company with most of the submerged plants, Ruppia is per- 
ennial. The majority of the leaves and stems die at the approach 
of cold weather, leaving the living rootstock buried in the mud. 
Some green leaves, however, remain, connected with the rootstock, 
and lie at the bottom of the ditch or pool, so that it is possible to 
collect all of the vegetative organs all winter. 

One locality, indeed, is worthy of note, where Ruppia maritima 
flourishes all winter. Here, possibly on account of springs, the 
water is tempered somewhat, and I have gathered Ruppia in a 
green, vigorous condition, when the surface of the ditch was covered 
with ice over an inch in thickness. Although there are doubtless 
springs here, the water nevertheless contains a large percentage of 
salt. It is quite possible that there are many other similar locations 
where Ruppia grows all through the winter. 

In no case, however, have I found the bulbous winter buds, 
which: have been noted in the Potamogetons by Irmisch (1858). 

As indicated by Britton and Brown (1896 vol. I, p. 79). considerable 
variation exists in Ruppia maritima. Thus, one form which I have 
noticed especially, is of a more slender habit, with narrower leaves 
and stems than those of the ordinary individual. Its branching is 
ultimately quite irregular, although the system accords with that 
of the normal form. This form grows in quiet pools. 

There is, moreover, still considerable uncertainty as to the number 
of existing species of Ruppia (Ascherson, 1889; Sauvageau, 1891, II, 
p- 209; Roze, 1894, p. 479). The question is such a large one that 
it cannot be discussed here, and would require, besides, a careful 
study of herbarium material from different parts of the world. 
I will only state that as far as I can learn from a study of systematic 


1 But see Roze, 1894, p. 479. 


68 A. H. Graves, The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 


descriptions and figures (Griffith, 1851, I-IL; Irmisch, 1858; Hille- 
brand, 1888; Ascherson, 1889; Sauvageau, 1891, II; Hooker, 1894; 
Roze, 1894; Britton, 1907), four species may be safely recognized ; 
namely, R. maritima L., R. rostellata Koch, R. brachypus Gay, and 
R. occidentalis Wats. 

All of the material for the present work was collected in tidal 
ditches in Fort Hale Park, near New Haven, Conn. Here it grows 
in abundance, forming large tufts with its grass-like leaves, which 
follow easily the direction of the current. At extreme low tide a 
large portion of the plant floats, but at high tide it is completely 
submerged. The period of flowering commences in June and con- 
tinues until the severe frosts in autumn, up to which time, even in 
October, I have gathered flowers in good condition. 

The material was killed either in chromacetic acid, Flemming’s 
solution, or Keyser’s fluid. The first seemed the best, although the 
others gave good results. Several stains were used: for general 
work haematoxylin and erythrosin; for cytological study in the 
development of the male and female gametophytes, &c., and the 
embryo, the triple stain was used with excellent results. For the 
latter investigations Heidenhain’s iron haematoxylin was also found 
to be good. In all, about 20,000 microtome sections were cut of 
the different parts of the plant. For all of the microtechnique 
Chamberlain's “ Methods in Plant Histology” was found invaluable, 
and in all preparations the directions given therein were closely 
followed. 

I would like to avail myself of this opportunity to express my 
_ gratitude to Professor Alexander W. Evans, Eaton Professor ot 
Botany in Yale University, for the great interest he has taken in 
the work and for the invaluable criticism and suggestions which 
he has been ever ready to give. I desire also to thank Professor 
W. R. Coe, Professor J. W. Toumey, and Dr. A. L. Dean, of Yale 
University, for their kindness in offering suggestions, material, &c. 


THE MORPHOLOGY OF THE VEGETATIVE ORGANS 
STEM 
A. General Characters P 


Under the heading of “Stem” may be classed several parts of 
the plant, all of which are cauline in their morphology and origin, 
but differ to some extent in their functions and relations to the 
other parts of the plant. The horizontal axis, which lies prostrate 
on the soil, bearing the roots and upright shoots, may be termed 
the rootstock;1 the axis of the upright shoot may for convenience 
be designated the stem; the parts which bear the flowers and fruit 
we may speak of respectively as peduncle, rhachis, and stipe. 

In general, all these parts are slender, terete, and of a whitish 
color, although the stem at times assumes a greenish tinge due to 
a small content of chlorophyll. 

I shall consider first the branching and anatomy of the stem and 
rootstock; next, the development of the stem structures which are 
connected with the production of flowers and fruit, comparing 
their anatomy with that of the first two structures. 


B. Branching 


1. Branching in Ruppia maritima. 


Two principal systems of branching occur in Ruppia: one in stem 
and rootstock and connected with the ordinary growth, which we 
may call the vegetative branch system; and the other in the stem 
only, and associated with the production of flowers, which we 
may therefore designate the inflorescent branch system. 

a. Vegetative Branch System. 

The vegetative branch system is a distichous monopodium, the 
branches being borne alternately on opposite sides of the axis and 
in the same plane. In the rootstock, indeed, except near its grow- 
ing point, this initial arrangement is generally later much obscured, 
due to the upward growth of many of the lateral branches (PI. VII, 


1 As will readily be seen—a point which will be brought out more 
clearly later (p. 82)—the rootstock does not differ from the stem from 
a morphological point of view, either externally or internally; for any 
stem, by becoming horizontal and producing roots at-the nodes, assumes 
the character of what I have termed the rootstock. 


70 A. H. Graves, 


fig. 36). In the case of the stem, however, the natural arrangement 
often remains apparent (Pl. I, fig. 2; Pl. Il, fig. 6). 

On account of this distichous system, it is possible to cut a 

longitudinal section through all of the branches and the stem at 
the same time, especially if the region of the growing point is 
selected, ‘as’ is represented im Plid, fig.e1 (ch Pl) Viliiese2a): 
* A study of this figure of a vigorously developing stem apex will 
show clearly the order of development and the orientation of the 
branches. Since the origin of the branches is inseparably connected 
with the leaf development, it will be necessary to include in a 
description of the figure some reference to leaf development. 

The apical growing point G P has given off in alternate succession 
the primary leaves L4 LY, Li, L1V, &c. A secondary growing 
point arises in the axil of each of these leaves, which develops 
leaves in the same manner. The first leaf, however, is a scale leaf, 
which will be discussed at length later. (See p. 99.) 

Since L4 LU, LI, LIV, &c. are developed in acropetal suc- 
cession and hence show equal gradations in age, a study of their 
successive axillary structures presents a clear idea of the manner 
of development of the branch. The youngest leaves, LV! and 
LVI are hardly more than protuberances from opposite sides of 
the growing point, and as yet reveal no structures in their axils. 
At L YI we first see a small axillary growing point—the beginning 
of a branch. In the axil of ZY’ the rudimentary scale leaf, vs/, 
appears on the left of the growing point gf”). At the base of 
L1V we find the scale leaf (vs/) in its normal position, and also 
on the left of the growing point point the first vegetative leaf of 
the branch, 4U"). The axils of L777 and L¥ show successively 
advanced stages until in Z/ appear four leaves of the branch besides 
the scale leaf;—4, 41), 2,() and 4,(). Moreover in the axils 
of 4) and 4 appear young growing points to form branches of 
a second order. 

Such a growing point under ordinary conditions will develop in 
a regular way for some time, the leaves and axillary shoots appear- 
ing in acropetal succession and the nodes of increasing length. 
basipetally, according to their age. This stage is represented in 
Pl. I, fig. 2, a sketch from a living specimen. 

Sooner or later, however, in the course of the development of 
the system, its regularity becomes more and more modified to suit 
environmental relations, a condition which is of course true of any 
branch system. PI. II, fig. 6 is a drawing from nature of the upper 
portion of a plant whose vegetative branch system has undergone 





The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 71 


considerable modification in this way. The period of blooming is 
at hand, and although no flowers have yet appeared, we find flower 
buds at the ends of the lateral branches as well as at the termination 
of the main shoot itself. 

Some of the modifications here exhibited are the varying orien- 
tation of nodes and internodes—an arrangement evidently brought 
about to obtain the most advantageous light, space, &c.;—the 
irregularity in length of internodes, those at the base of the plant 
being not necessarily the longest; and the number of leaves borne 
on the branches previous to the development of flowers, for since 
the latter must bloom above the surface of the water, the lowest 
branches must necessarily be longer and hence bear more leaves. 

In its development of flower buds, the case is a good illustration 
of the manner of change from the vegetative branching to the in- 
florescent type, as described below. 

b. Inflorescent Branch System. 

Irmisch (1851) has 
accurately described 
the inflorescent type 
of branching in R. 


rostellata, but for the \ \ 
sake of completeness tc 
and confirmation in \ 
R. maritima, 1 will 


review the more im- \ 
portant points. W 
When the upright 
or upward growing 
branches arrive at or 
near the surface of a \\ 
the water, their api- 
ces terminate in in- 
florescences, asshown 
diagrammatically in 
Text-fig. 1, consisting 
of a slender peduncle Figure 1.—Diagrammatic representation of inflor- 
escent branch system; @ and 4, stronger and 


and a rhachis homol- weaker shoots respectively ; 7, Z/, and ///, suc- 
ogous to a spadix, the cessive generations of sympodial development ; 


latter bearing always EEA: 

two flowers. From now on the inflorescent type of branching prevails. 
For from the axil of each of the two nearly opposite leaves sub- 
tending the peduncle (see p. 97 ff.) arises a secondary branch (Text- 








72 A. H. Graves, 


fig. 1, a and 4), which continues the growth of the stem. Of these 
branches, that in the dxil of the upper leaf (Text-fig. 1, a) is invariably 
of stronger growth, exceeding considerably the branch on the other 
side of the floral axis. These axillary branches, after forming a few 
leaves, terminate in flowers again, and the process of branch form- 
ation is repeated. In this way, since the main axis is continued 
by the stronger branch, the system in the region of the flowers is 
sympodial. In most instances, however, the weaker axillary branch 
has a fairly vigorous development, as in Text-fig. 1, in which case 
the branching approximates a false dichotomy, and a characteristic 
fan-like form is thus often produced. 

In Text-fig. 1 the branch a develops two ordinary leaves before 


it terminates ina flower. This brings the upper of the pair of sub-— 


floral leaves at the right side instead of the left, as at I. Such 
an arrangement as this is not as common as is the continual pro- 
duction of the stronger branches on the same side of the stem, 
but in this way also the fan-like form may be attained. 


2. Comparative Study of the Branching of the Potamogetonaceae. 


In Zannichellia, Campbell (1897, pp. 38 ff.) finds that the apex of 
the stem divides into two equal parts, one of which develops into 
the female inflorescence, while the other continues as the main 
axis of the stem. Farther on he says “the inflorescence is the 
result of the dichotomy of the main shoot, whose other member 
continues the growth of the axis.” So that, although a sympodium 
is the ultimate result, it is attained by a dichotomy of the growing 
point, one of the branches becoming a male or female flower. 
Schumann’s (1892) interpretation had been somewhat different from 
this, maintaining that the female inflorescence terminated the main 
axis and that the growth of the shoot was continued by an axillary 
branch arising in the upper of the two subtending leaves. The 
position of these leaves much resembles that of the subfloral leaves 
of Ruppia, so that if Schumann’s idea were correct, the inflorescent 
branch system of Zannichellia would be a sympodium similar in 
origin and development to that of Ruppia. 

Campbell's figures, however, show a vigorous, simultaneous de- 
velopment of the primordia of both flower and main axis, which 
lend to his theory a great deal of weight. In Ruppia the primordium 
of the axillary shoot arises much later than that of the flower, so 
that such a dichotomy as Campbell claims is here impossible. 
(See Pl. IX, figs. 54-56.) 


re eer 


a i i ee ne 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 73 


Irmisch (4858) investigated the vegetative branching of Zannichellia 
and found it to be a pure sympodium as regards its horizontal axis. 
This develops beyond its second leaf into an upright shoot, which 
ultimately bears the flowers; at its base, however, from the axil of 
the second leaf, arises a branch which prolongs the horizontal axis. 
This again, after two leaves are given off, develops into an upright 
shoot and the horizontal axis is again repeated from a branch in 
the axil of the second leaf. This process goes on indefinitely, so 
that the horizontal axis is therefore merely a succession of generations 
of axillary branches and hence a pure sympodium. 

The branching of Naias is peculiar, according to Campbell’s (1897) 
interpretation. The leaves are developed approximately in pairs— 
one slightly below the other and larger. From the axil of this 
lower one a primordium arises which by dichotomy produces a 
flower and a lateral branch. The branch bears at its base a single 
leaf. The upper leaf of the original pair is sterile, so that the stem 
of Naias has its leaves apparently in whorls of three, with a branch 
and flower arising from each whorl. Apparently the apex of the 
main stem never terminates its growth, but goes on producing its 
pairs of leaves—one sterile and one fertile—so that the system is 
very unlike that of Ruppia. 

Cymodocea, an entirely submerged marine genus, distinguished 
by its long ribbon-like leaves, very simple flowers and filamentous 
pollen, is placed by Ascherson (1889) next in order to Ruppia. 
In Cymodocea nodosa, Bornet (1864, pp. 15 ff.) describes types of 
branching which conform to those of Ruppia. The vegetative 
branching is monopodial, and a longitudinal section of the bud 
(l. c. Pl. IV, fig. 1) resembles very closely that of Ruppia. The 
flowers are terminal and the growth in length is continued by a 
lateral bud. It appears, however, that this bud is not necessarily 
one of the two buds nearest the flower. 

In Zostera the rootstock is also monopodial, the inflorescent 
system being sympodial (Sauvageau, 1891, I). 

Phyllospadix closely resembles Zostera (Dudley, 1893). 

In Althenia (Prillieux, 1864), on the other hand, a genus resem- 
bling Zannichellia and found in Europe, Africa and Australia, the 
vegetative branching is sympodial, much as in Zannichellia. The 
growth of the rootstock is continued by successive branches from 
the horizontal axis which in each case itself becomes vertical and 
bears the flowers. The flowers are unisexual—the male terminating 
the upright axis or stem. In the axils of the two leaves subtending 
the male flower arise secondary branches, which bear male or 


74 A. H. Graves, 


female flowers, but more often the latter. From these, branches 
of the third order arise, and in this.manner a complex sympodial 
development is the rule. 

Irmisch (1858) found that the vegetative branching of Potamogeton 
lucens, natans, crispus, obtusifolius, and pectinatus was purely sym- 
podial as to the rootstock, just as it is in Zannichellia and 
Althenia. It is very probable that the other Potamogetons have 
the same system. As to the floral system the branching is sym- 
podial. 


Summary. The branching of Ruppia is of two main types:—a 
sympodial system occurring in the region of the flowers, and a 
monopodial system present in all other parts of the plant. 

Zannichellia, Althenia, and Potamogeton have, however, a sym- 
podial system in the case of the rootstock, but a purely monopodial 
development like that of Ruppia occurs in Cymodocea, Phyllospadix, 
and Zostera. With the exception of Zannichellia, where Campbell 
finds a true dichotomy, all these genera have a similar inflorescent 
branch system—a single or double sympodium formed from branches 
in the axils of the two characteristic subfloral leaves, or at any rate 
from a lateral bud as in Cymodocea. 


C. Anatomical Structure 
1. Growing Point. 


In a good median section the growing point of the stem reveals 
the three divisions of primary tissue more or less clearly marked: 
the whole is covered by a layer of dermatogen; beneath this lies 
the periblem, composed of usually one layer and surrounding the 
three or four layers of plerome cells. 

Text-fig. 2, besides demonstrating these meristematic divisions, 
shows an interesting very early stage in the development of the 
youngest leaf. Here the periblem on the right has undergone 
several divisions preparatory to the formation of the youngest leaf 
primordium, which is destined to appear at this region, opposite 
the next youngest leaf, LZ . 

On the whole, the arrangement of cells and young lateral or- 
gans is very similar to that figured by Douliot (1890) for Cym- 
odocea aequorea. 





The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 75 


2. Stem Structures in the Vegetative Region. 


a. Upright Stem. 

In its internal structure the stem is remarkable in many respects, 
but chiefly because of the reduction and consolidation of the vas- 
cular system into what may be termed a single axial vascular bundle, 
if we except the two minute bundles situated in the cortex. The 
morphogenesis of this reduced structure, as well as the structure 
of the whole stem as regards its ad- 
aptability to its environment, will be 
considered more in detail later. 

The epidermis surrounds a large 
zone of cortical parenchyma cells 
with a ring of lacunae in their midst; 
these cortical cells adjoin an endo- 
dermis, which encloses the axial 
vascular area (P1.I, figs. 4—5; PI. III, 
ies. 7, 8 and 9). The four parts 
—epidermis, cortex, endodermis and 
vascular system will now be de- 
scribed in order. 

(4) Epidermis. 

The epidermal cells are small in Figure 2.—Longitudinal — section 
comparison with the cortical par- through growing point of stem, 
enchyma cells and much smaller showing origin of youngest leat 

; primordium in the periblem; ¢, 
than the epidermal cells of the root qermatogen ; #, periblem ; A/, ple- 
(PL. I, fig. 5). Their walls are thin, rome; Z1, ZH, older leaves. 
and yet thicker than the walls of oe 
the interior cells, the free wall being slightly thicker than the others. 
Occasionally these cells contain a small amount of chlorophyll. 

As might be expected from a comparison with other submerged 
plants already investigated (Schenck, 1886), no stomata occur through- 
out the plant. 

In the epidermis, rather regularly distributed over the stem, but 
especially abundant in the region of the nodes, are secretion cells, 
which are, however, more numerous in the leaf, and will be de- 
scribed more in detail there (see p. 90). These cells occur scattered 
here and there also in the cortex, and some may be seen in the 
axial vascular bundle. 

(2) Cortex. 

The typical cortical parenchyma cells are large in comparison with 
the cells of the epidermis, endodermis and vascular tissue; they are 

Trans. Conn. Acap., Vol. XIV. 6 Decemper, 1908. 





76 A. H. Graves, 


rounded so that intercellular spaces often occur, and elongated in the 
direction of the length of the stem (PI.I, fig. 5; Pl. III, fig. 7; Text-fig. 3). 
The majority of the cortical parenchyma cells show in an oblique 
view parallel horizontal stripes or bands on their side walls. A lon- 
gitudinal section proves that this appearance is due not to bands of 
thickening, but to slight undulations (Text-fig. 3). These are not 
necessarily regular in size or distance 
| | apart; they may or may not occur all 
through the cell, and certain cells are 
apparently entirely without them. Their 
function is not clear. Similar undulations 
were observed by Caspary (1858) in sev- 
eral aquatic plants, notably in Zannichellia 
palustris. Prillieux (1864) has also noted 
them in the stem of Althenia filiformis 
Figure 3.—Longitudinal nd in the roots of epiphytic orchids. 
section of a portion of Another point of general interest in the 
cortical parenchyma cells, stem cortex is the occurrence of starch 
showing undulations in 2 : 
the side walls. >< 210. grains. These, as ‘shown in Pl. I, fig. 5, 
are quite numerous. Their size evidently 
increases in the vicinity of the axial and cortical bundles and every- 
where at the nodes. Irmisch (1858, p. 35) has found starch abundant 
in the Potamogetons and has described its occurrence and appear- 
ance in considerable detail. 

In the cortex appear also the secretion cells noted in the epi- 
dermis, that is, they are apparently of the same nature, behaving 
in general in a similar way. They do not contain starch, as do 
most of the cortical cells, but are filled with fine granular contents 
and are especially abundant at the nodes. Bornet (1864, pp. 40-41) 
has noted cells evidently quite similar in the cortex and vascular 
tissue of Cymodocea, filled with a “liquide oléagineux, un peu teinte 
de jaune, tout-a-fait semblable a celui que renferment les cellules 
epidermiques des antheres.” 

In describing the cortex we may for convenience divide it into 
three portions: (a) an outer zone of cells, compactly arranged and 
bounded on the outside by the epidermis; (b) a central area, with 
a large portion of its territory occupied by a ring of lacunae or 
air spaces; and (c) an interior zone of cells limited on the inner 
side by the endodermis (PI. [, fig. 5). 

(a) Outer cortex. 

The outer portion of the cortex consists of two or three layers 
of cells (Pl. I, fig. 5 oc; Pl. Ill, fig. 7). The cells of the outermost 





The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 77 


layer are much larger than those of the epidermis, but partake 
somewhat of the nature of the latter in their slightly thickened walls. 
Toward the outer part of this cortical region intercellular spaces 
rarely occur: instead the triangular prismatic areas which the spaces 
would occupy are filled with thickening and probably supplement 
the firmness imparted to the stem by the epidermis. 

It is in this outer portion of the cortex that two small vascular 
bundles occur, which may be termed cortical bundles (PI. I, figs. 4, 
5, cb). An account of these will be given in connection with the 
vascular system. 

Toward the interior of this zone the cells increase in size, and 
intercellular spaces begin to appear. 

(b) «Middle cortex. 

The most striking feature of the middle area of the cortex is the 
ring of large air spaces or lacunae (PI. I, figs. 4, 5, mc and /a; Pl. Ill, 
fig. 7). These originate schizogenously by a splitting apart of the 
walls of adjacent cells when these are in a very young stage, and 
subsequently they become much enlarged. A ring of from twelve 
to eighteen is disposed in a fairly symmetrical way in this central 
part of the cortex. As a rule somewhat elongated radially, they 
are separated from each other laterally by a single column of cells. 
In length up and down the stem they extend from node to node, 
no diaphragms being stretched across as in the leaf lacunae. Com- 
munication through the node is maintained by means of small inter- 
cellular spaces. 

Between the lacunae and the small intercellular spaces occurring 
near the inner and outer limits of the cortex lie many air spaces of 
intermediate size, so that although the large lacunae appear quite 
distinct on account of their large size and fairly regular arrangement, 
yet gradations exist between them and the small triangular inter- 
cellular spaces (PI. I, fig. 5). 

(c) Inner cortex. 

The interior zone of the cortex, terminating with the endodermis 
(Pl. I, fig. 5, end), is a good deal similar to the outer zone. The 
cells and intercellular spaces gradually decrease in size, and the 
latter also in frequency, toward the endodermis, while the cell walls 
gradually increase in thickness. 

A striking peculiarity of the cells of this inner cortical zone is 
their chlorophyll content, which is very noticeable in freehand 
sections from fresh stems. It was definitely ascertained that the 
chlorophyll grains belong to these cells and were not drawn inward 
from the epidermis by the razor. 


78 A. H. Graves, 


(3) Endodermis. 

The endodermis is a fairly regular layer of cells surrounding the cen- 
tral vascular region (PI.I, fig.3). On the application of concentrated 
sulphuric acid all the walls of the endodermal cells become beauti- 
fully undulated, the radial walls showing a stronger suberization. In 
many cases the ring of cells outside of the endodermis is also quite 
strongly suberized and therefore withstands to a considerable extent 
the action of the sulphuric acid 
(Text-fig. 4). No U-shaped stripes 
of thickening appear on the walls, 
such as were seen by Schenck 
(1886) in Potamogeton pectinatus 





Figure 4.—Cross section of portion 
of endodermis and next outer ring 
of cells treated with concentrated 
sulphuric acid, showing slightly 


and other species. Although a 
banded appearance is produced in 
a slightly oblique view, a longi- 
tudinal section shows that it is 


thickened radial walls. >< 400. due merely to the slightly undu- 


lating walls, essentially as has 
been shown in the cortical cells. The radial walls, however, are 
slightly thickened uniformly. 

(4) Vascular System. 

One of the most interesting features of the stem is its remarkably 
simple vascular system. This comprises two small cortical bundles 
and a larger central bundle (PI. I, fig. 4; Pl. Ill, fig. 7). I shall 
describe first the course of these bundles, and then turn to a de- 
scription of their anatomical structure. 

(a) Course of Vascular Bundles. 

The course taken by the vascular bundles in the stem is very 
simple. The main central bundle travels in the center of the stem, 
and at each node sends off two branches in the manner figured 
(Pl. V, fig. 17)—a large branch to the lateral member which almost 
invariably occurs at each node, and a smaller contribution to its 
subtending leaf. This is repeated at each succeeding node until the 
floral region is reached. Here the main bundle continues to its 
termination in the rhachis, but gives off on each side a couple of 
branches to the lower and upper subfloral leaves with their axillary 
members in turn. This is simply a repetition of the process occurring 
at then odes, except that here, between the lower and upper subfloral 
leaves, the node is practically obliterated (Pl. V, fig. 18). This 
arrangement, at least in the vegetative region, is much like that of 
Potamogeton pectinatus, described and figured by De Bary (1884, 
p. 273). 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. io 


The course taken by the cortical bundles, although simple, is not 
quite as evident. The cortical bundles are entirely independent of 
the central bundle, never connecting with it, so far as I have been 
able to ascertain. Their position can be best shown by the use of 
figures selected from a series of cross sections. A cross section in 
the region of a node, just below the point where the leaf is given 
off, is represented in Pl. V, fig. 19. Here the cortical bundles are 
situated in the outer cortex, not quite diametrically opposite each 
other. This figure also shows the axial bundle somewhat dilated 
radially. Pl. V, fig. 20 shows the edges of the leaf sheaths appearing 
at the cleft at the upper side of the figure. The cortical bundles 
occupy about the same position as before, but the axial bundle is 
commencing to give off its two branches—to the leaf and axillary 
branch. In Pl. V, fig. 24 the leaf sheaths are still more separated 
from the stem; the two large leaf and branch bundles are now dis- 
tinct from the axial stem bundle; the cortical bundles have moved 
outward slightly, and a new cortical bundle appears nearer the 
central bundle. Since the section is cut slightly obliquely, and the 
right side represents a portion higher up in the stem, only one of 
the pair of new cortical bundles thus appears. PI. V, fig. 22 shows 
both, however, and also represents the former pair of cortical bundles 
as moving gradually into the still further separated leaf. Pl. V, 
fig. 23 shows the leaf with its lateral (cortical) bundles, separate 
from the stem, and fig. 24 does the same for the branch which 
it subtends. 

It is clear, therefore, that the cortical bundles of the stem furnish 
the lateral nerves of the leaf. It will be seen also that not only 
do the cortical bundles have no connection with the axial bundle, 
but also that a new pair arises at each node to pass into the leaf 
at the node next higher up. After a careful examination, I find 
absolutely no connection between these successive pairs of cortical 
bundles. 

Although the figures and description of De Bary (1884, p. 274) 
for Potamogeton crispus seemed to present an arrangement similar 
to the above, the work of Chrysler (1907), which appeared while 
this paper was being prepared for publication, corrects De Bary’s 
account but confirms my investigation of Ruppia maritima. Chrysler’s 
conclusion (l. c. p. 171) is undoubtedly correct that “ this condition 
has in all probability been derived by reduction from that in which 
the cortical bundles joined the central cylinder at the next node 
below the insertion of the leaf to which they belong.” 

The cortical bundles of Zostera marina (De Bary, 1884, p. 275; 


80 A. H. Graves, 


Sauvageau, 1891 1; Chrysler, 1907) are similar to those of Ruppia, 
but are continuous up and down the cortex and send a branch to 
the central cylinder at the nodes. 

(b) Structure of Vascular Bundles. 

Anatomically the cortical bundles in a young stage consist of small, 
closely packed cells, which are all tracheids or tracheae (PI. II], 
fig. 8). No sieve tubes can be distinguished (Text-fig. 5). Ata 
later stage (Pl. I, fig. 5; Text-fig. 6) these small elements have for the 


Figure 5.—Cross section of cortical Figure 6.—Cross section of cortical 
bundle, before dissolution of its bundle, after dissolution of its vas- 
vascular elements. >< 210. cular elements. >< 300. 


most part been resorbed, so that only a passageway remains, except 
at the nodes, where they remain intact. 
In structure, the central cylinder is composed of a central xylem 


region surrounded by a zone of phloem. The xylem is in a young 


stage represented by 
a group of tracheae 
at the center, which, 
however, very early 
in the development 
of the stem, become 
pulled apart and dis- 
organized except at 
the nodes, wherethey 





7 we» are conspicuous in 
APRA © ‘a the mature stage. The 
- resulting space, then, 


Figure 7.—Tracheae and tracheids from axial vas- isa lysigenous cavity, 
cular bundle of stem: a. tracheid with annular 
thickenings ; b. tracheid with annular, spiral, and does notrepresent 
and pitted thickenings; c. disorganized trachea an enlarged cell (PI.I, 
with thickenings lying in the cavity. >< 1350. fig.3). The thicken- 

ings of the tracheae 
are mostly annular, although spiral and other forms may occur 


(Text-fig. 7). Occasionally these thickenings may be found lying loose 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 81 


in the central lysigenous opening. In sections of the stem it ap- 
peared as if tracheids were also present, especially at and near the 
nodes, possessing the same characters as to their thickenings as 
the tracheae, but showing cross walls (Text-fig. 7a, 6). 

Surrounding the central cavity are thin-walled xylem parenchyma 
(Pl. I, fig. 3). Just outside of these lies the phloem region, the 
boundary between the two being impossible to determine on account 
of the apparently identical characters of the xylem and phloem 
parenchyma. 

In the phloem zone are distributed the sieve tubes, with their 
companion cells, in an irregular ring in much the same way as in 
Zannichellia (Schenck, 1886). As a rule, the sieve tubes are larger 
than the surrounding cells, and on this account and because of 
their arrangement in a ring, each with its companion cell, they 
stand out quite clearly even in 


freehand sections. Between them seas 


ay sale tort r) 
, eemte lanht 090%." 
ONE Easy 


and the endodermis lie one or tig 


occasionally two layers of par- 
enchyma cells (Pl. I, fig. 3). 
One noteworthy feature of the 
phloem region is that in the vic- 
inity of the node, i. e. immediately 
before and after the branches are 
given off from the central cylinder, 
it is localized into four distinct 
symmetrically situated portions 
(Text-fig. 8), although this is never 
evident in the internodal region. 
Such an arrangement would be 
expected when one considers the 
true nature of this fibrovascular 
area, as described below, and 
compares it with certain Pota- 
mogetons which reveal this char- 





Figure8.— Photomicrograph of cross 
section of stem, &c., similar to PI.IIT, 
fig. 8, but cut at a higher plane and 


acter more distinctly (Schenck, 
1886. pp. 40-41 and figures 35, 
36and 38), and with Zostera marina 
(Chrysler, 1907, p.172 and fig. 29). 


near a node; showing localization of 
phloem into four regions in central 
cylinder of stem. >< 35. 


In his work already cited, Schenck (1886, pp. 27 ff.) reviews in 
a most admirable manner the various interpretations of the concen- 


tric type of bundle as it exists in water plants. 


He concludes with 


Sanio and Russow that it represents phylogenetically not a sing], 


82 A. H. Graves, 


bundle, but the product of the gradual centripetal union of many 
stem bundles, and is therefore not comparable to the concentric 
bundle of the majority of the Gleicheniaceae, for example. This 
is true both of mono- and dicotyledonous water plants. 

In support of this theory Schenck shows how there exists at the 
present time in different aquatic and amphibious species, every 
gradation from the typical bundle arrangement common to land 
plants to the simplest structure as exemplified in the submerged 
aquatics. He says, “Im Laufe der phylogenetischen Entwicklung 
riickten infolee immer weiter gehender Anpassung der Structur an 
die Lebensweise der Pflanze unter Wasser diese Leitbiindel bei 
eleichzeitiger Reduction des Xylems nach der Axe zusammen zu 
einem gemeinsamen Strang, in welchem die Xylemteile nach und 
nach zu einem einzigen axilen Kérper verschmolzen, wahrend die 
Phloemteile, ihre normale Lage nach aufsen beibehaltend, zu einer 
Ringzone sich vereinigten.” 

According to this interpretation therefore, Ruppia is descended 
from a form with four distinct main vascular bundles, traces of which 
are still apparent in the four phloem regions at the nodes; for 
here, as is generally admitted, ancestral characters are wont to 
appear. 


Summary. The stem is composed of a thin walled epidermis; 
a loosely constructed cortex, containing as its principal feature a ring 
of radially arranged lacunae, and also two small bundles ending in 
the cortex—fibrovascular connections with the leaf sheaths; and 
a well defined endodermis, surrounding a very simple axial vascular 
region of a concentric structure, the appearance of which at the 
nodes indicates its reduction from four vascular bundles. 


b. Rootstock. 


The branching of the rootstock, or horizontal axis, as already 
stated, conforms strictly to the monopodial type, although torsion 
and the decay of the leaves often renders this obscure. 

In its internal structure, as would be expected, it agrees with 
the stem (PI. III, fig. 9). No points of difference were noted, except 
that sometimes the cells are somewhat larger than is customary in 
the upright axis, and often contain a large amount of starch. 

The main differences between this and its morphological equivalent, 
the upright axis, are its horizontal position and the occurrence of 
roots at the nodes 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 83 


3. Stem Structures in the Floral Region. 

Three forms coming under the category of stem are found in 
connection with the production of flowers and fruit: .(a) the peduncle, 
or the stalk of the inflorescence, (using this term in its narrower 
sense); (b) the rhachis or axis of the inflorescence, which is joined 
to the apex of the peduncle and bears the sessile flowers; (c) the 
stipe, a stalk which acquires its full development subsequent to the 
fertilization of the ovule and bears the mature fruit at some dis- 
tance from the rhachis. 

These three parts will be considered in order. 

a. Peduncle. 

(1) General Characters. 

At the time of blooming the peduncle is short, about 2.5 cm., in 
length, and is raised nearly its whole length vertically above the 
surface of the water. About the time that the pollen is shed 
and the anthers fall off, the peduncle becomes horizontal, floating 
on the surface of the water. From now on it commences to 
elongate, presumably by simple stretching of its cells, as no merist- 
ematic regions were found to prove the contrary. It elongates 
until in some cases it attains great length. One specimen I measured 
was 18.2 cm. long. Elongation takes place whether fruit is matured 
or not, and the length is apparently just as great in either case. Indeed, 
the specimen just men- 
tioned bore no fruit. The 
average length of the 
peduncle when no fruit 
was matured was 5.39 
cm. The average length 
in 80 specimens when 
ovules were matured x. 
was 49 cm. On the 
whole, therefore, the 
average length of the ex- 
tended peduncle is about 
5 cm. or about twice that 


pO 





: : eee 
at the time of flowering. a 


Figure 9.—Cross section of peduncle, showing 
at x the apparently double epidermal cells; 
ture. ep, epidermis; /a, lacunae; c, cortex; axb, axial 


Ingeneral, the anatom- bundle. >< 185. 
ical structure of the ped- 
uncle is very similar to that of the leafy stem (Text-fig. 9; Pl. VI, 
fig. 34). The following points, however, are noteworthy :— 


(2) Anatomical struc- 


84 A. H. Graves, 


1. As would be expected, no cortical leaf trace bundles are 
present. 

2. The central vascular area is very similar to that of the stem. 
The tracheae in the center are pretty well disorganized, which is 
natural when one calls to mind the considerable extension of the 
peduncle. 

3. The lacunae are more numerous and much larger in proportion 
to the diameter of the peduncle than in the stem (Text-fig. 9; Pl. VI, 
fig. 34). 

4. In comparison with the stem the epidermis has slightly thicker 
walls, and small intercellular spaces may occur between it and the 
subjacent layer, an appearance which one never sees in cross sections 
of the stem (Text-fig. 10). 

5. Occasionally some of the epidermal cells have a peculiar 
halved appearance, as if a periclinal wall divided an ordinary ep- 
idermal cell into two parts. This is due probably not to a division 
in the epidermal cell, but to the fact that a smal] subepidermal cell 
is wedged up close to a small epidermal cell (Text-fig. 10). 





Figure 10.—Portion of cross section of peduncle ; x, apparent- 
ly double epidermal cells ; /a, lacunae; 7, intercellular spaces. 
>< 300. 


On the whole, the main differences between this structure and 
that of the ordinary stem are its lack of cortical bundles and its 
lighter construction. The latter is explained when one recalls the 
fact that the peduncle for a great period of its existence floats, 
and hence its specific gravity must be small. 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 85 


(3) Coiling of the peduncle. 

Sooner or later the peduncle becomes spirally coiled, drawing 
the fruit, if any is matured, below the surface of the water. Some 
individuals exhibit this characteristic more markedly than others. 
Often, in fact, the peduncle is fairly straight. In case the coiling 
takes place, it is due to the cells on that side of the peduncle which 
will form the outer side of the spiral becoming longer than those 
on the inner side. This difference in length was ascertained in 
several specimens by actual measurement of the cells. Such cur- 
vatures as this occurring in plants are most often, as Strasburger 
(1908, p. 269) has explained, due in like manner to unequal growth. 

b) Rhachis. 

Here the internal structure is practically the same as in the ped- 
uncle. No appreciable elongation takes place as in the peduncle, 
and, therefore, the tracheae are not disorganized to such an extent. 
At the point of attachment of the stamens the rhachis is practically 
triangular in outline (PI. III, fig. 11). The single axial vascular 
bundle sends a branch to each stamen and to each of the four 
pistils of a flower (Pl. IIL, fig. 12). This axial vascular region 
terminates with the branch sent to the uppermost stamen (PI. III, 
fig. 12), the most distal member of the inflorescence, and does not 
therefore have a blind ending at the end of the rhachis. 

The termination of the rhachis is simply a rounded knob (PI. III, 
fio. 12). 

All through the rhachis, in the interior as well as in the epidermal 
tissue, the “secretion” cells are abundant. 

c) Stipe. 

Although the pistils are termed sessile, and correctly so from a 
macroscopic standpoint, early in their development, before fertilization 
(Pl. Ul, fig. 12), considerable tissue is formed between the ovule 
and the rhachis by a region which remains meristematic for some 
time. At length the cell division ceases, and the cells stretch out, 
forming a stalk of considerable length, having at its end the mature 
fruit (Pl. IV, fig. 13). This stipal development is correlative; when 
no fruit is developed, the stipe is also wanting. 

Pl. IV, fig. 14, which shows the secretion cells in the epidermis 
of the stipe, represents a stage when the cells are still quite young 
and short. 

In its internal structure the stipe reveals no marked differences 
from the stem (PI. IV, fig. 15). As in the peduncle, the cortical 
bundles are lacking. The lacunae are less pronounced than in the 
peduncle. The apparently halved epidermal cells occasionally appear, 


86 A. H. Graves, 


and in places the subepidermal layer is thick-walled and constructed 
much like the epidermis (Pl. IV, fig. 16). Asa whole, the structure 
shows greater strength than the peduncle. 


4. Brief Comparative Study of the Stem Anatomy of the Potamo- 
getonaceae. 


Zannichellia (Campbell, 1897) and Althenia (Prillieux, 1864) perhaps 
most closely resemble Ruppia in their cauline structure, although 
they possess no cortical bundless. Polamogeton pectinatus (Schenck, 
1886) also, which externally resembles Ruppia so closely, internally 
reveals a very similar stem anatomy. Moreover, the Potamogetons 
possess cortical bundles lacking in Zannichellia and Althenia. 
Cymodocea (Bornet, 1864), appears to differ mainly in having a 
thicker stem and a ring of small cortical bundles with lacunae 
between these and the axial vascular area. 

In its vascular system Zostera (Sauvageau, 1891. I.) shows close 
relationship to Ruppia. Z. capricorni and Z. nana have one cortical 
bundle on opposite sides of the stem, as in Ruppia (Sauvageau, 
1891). Zostera marina (Chrysler, 1907. p. 172, fig. 29) is also 
similar. In other species these bundles are more numerous. The 
bundles run free the whole length of the internode, unite with the 
central area at the node and send out branches which become the 
lateral nerves of the leaves. The central vascular area appears 
composed of four fibrovascular strands, the phloem parts isolated 
and separated, and the xylem bundles united into an axial strand. 


LEAF 
A. Enumeration of Kinds of Leaves 


Of Strasburger’s (1908, p. 26) four categories of leaves, three 
occur in Ruppia:—the scale leaves, small specialized structures at 
the base of every branch (PI. Il, fig. 6, vs/; Text-figs. 19-20, vs/, 
fsl); secondly, the ordinary long, narrow foliage leaves; and finally, 
the subfloral leaves, belonging properly to the category of bracts, 
a pair of which is borne at the base of the peduncle (Text-figs. 19-20, 
up. sfl, low. sfl). Since the flower is naked, there are no floral 
leaves. 

B. Arrangement 


An investigation of the position of the leaves throughout the 
plant reveals the following: 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 87 


1. The general leaf arrangement is distichous (Pl. I, fig. 2; Pl. I, 
fig. 6), as in other members of the Potamogetonaceae so far as 
known, with the exception of Potamogeton natans and Potamogeton 
lucens, where a several ranked arrangement sometimes occurs 
(Irmisch, 1858 and Ascherson, 1889). 

2. A single plane, therefore, will intersect all points of leaf in- 
sertion on any stem (PI. I, fig. 1; Pl. VI, fig. 25). 

3. Moreover, on all branches, this plane of leaf insertion coincides 
with that of the main stem, a feature which combines with the 
methods of branching to produce the characteristic flat, fan- or sickle- 
shaped plants, a condition already noted in the Potamogetonaceae 
by Ascherson (1889) (Pl. I, fig. 2; Pl. I, fig. 6). 

4. The first, or basal leaf of every branch, which is in all cases 
a scale leaf, originates on that portion of the branch opposite to 
the subtending leaf—i. e., with its back toward the main axis of 
the shoot (Pl. Il, fig. 6, vs/). No internode is placed between it 
and the subtending leaf, so that it is therefore exactly opposite the 
latter.1 

5. The second leaf of every branch, in all cases a foliage leaf, 
is developed on the side of the branch adjacent to the subtending 
leaf, and thereafter ordinary foliage leaves of the branch proceed 
in regular distichous order (PI. II, fig. 6, 4, £(, &c.). 

In an account of the leaf of Ruppia I shall describe the three 
sorts of leaves, beginning with the ordinary foliage leaves, taking 
up next the subfloral leaves, and concluding with the scale leaves. 


C. Ordinary Foliage Leaves 


General Characters. The ordinary foliage leaves are ‘“ribbon- 
shaped”; long (7—17 cm.), and very narrow, (about 1 mm.) (PI. I, 
fig. 2; Pl. I, fig. 6). Although to the naked eye the margins appear 
entire, the microscope reveals at the apex a large number of one- 
to three-celled teeth, and these, with increasing distances between 
them, extend a considerable distance down the margins of the leaf 
(Pl. VI, fig. 26; Text-fig. 11). Upward from the base of the leaf, on 
each side, extending for 13-27 mm. are thin translucent appendages, 








' Goebel (1898, pp. 68—69) says, however, in speaking of the phyllotaxy of 
axillary branches in general, that, due to mechanical causes in the bud, 
“die bei weitem hiufigste Stellung der beiden ersten Blitter des Axillar- 
triebs eine /aterale ist, und erst die folgenden Blitter median oder mehr 
oder weniger schief gestellt sind.” 


88 A. H. Graves, 


which I have termed the stipular sheaths (Pl. I, fig. 2; Pl. I], 
fig. 6). In external appearance the leaves very closely resemble 
those of Potamogeton filiformis and Potamogeton pectinatus, both 
also typical submerged plants (Morong, 1893). The leaves of 
Zannichellia and Althenia are also macroscopically very similar: 
those of all species of Naias are much shorter with strongly serrate 
or toothed margins.1 


Development of the Folage Leaf. Different stages of leaf 
development are represented in Pl. I, fig. 1; Pl. VI, fig. 25, lon- 
gitudinal sections of a vegetative bud, where the youngest leaf 
is the protuberance at one side of the growing point (LV//! 
in Pl. I, fig: 1).. The next older leaf primordium, shownjen 
the right of the growing point (PI. I, fig. 1, Z/7), has already 

l slightly elongated, until now it extends 
f beyond the growing point. Successively 


older stages are represented by LY, 
= we IOV, LAV, OIC: 
J G al Pl. VU, fig. 43 represents a transverse 
3 y ~ section through a similar bud cut through 
about the region of the line @é in Pl. I, 


{ fig. 1. Therefore, we find here the different 


members in exactly the same orientation 


| 4 as in PI. I, fig. 1. Thus, the outermost leaf, 

Z (| L/, embraces with its sheaths all the 

| y internal complex, just as is shown by L/ 
s 


{] with its sheaths in PI. I, fig. 1. The next 
) inner member is 4!/), or the lowest and 
a largest foliage leaf of the axillary bud of 
Figure 11.—The marginal 7 7 ; then a section through the apical 
leaf teeth, showing variation : ‘ 
in cell arrangement. >< 300, Portion of the scale leaf which envelops 
; this axillary bud; next the leaf sheaths of 
the next upper main leaf, L//, appear, which brings us to a cross 
section of the central stem: without going into more detail it is 
sufficient to note that the remaining parts may be correlated to their 
corresponding longitudinal sections in the same way. ~The line a6 





1 All these species belong to Hansgirg’s (1903) “ Vallisneria-Typus 
der Strémungsblitter,” a physiological group showing little differentiation 
into blade and petiole and characterized by the lack of cuticle, hair 
structures and stomata, by the absence of any considerable amount of 
supporting tissue, and by the ribbon-like, isolateral form. 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 89 


in Pl. VII, fig. 48 represents the approximate plane in which a 
section similar to that in Pl. I, fig. 1 and Pl. VI, fig. 25 would 
be cut. 

With the help of these sections and other similar serial preparations, 
I have found that the course of development and distribution of 
growth in the ordinary foliage leaf is approximately as follows: the 
leaf primordium first appears as a mere swelling at one side of the 
growing point, Pl. I, fig. 1, 2/7; this protuberance soon differen- 
tiates into two parts, an “upper leaf,’ elongated in the direction of 
the growth of the shoot, and a “leaf base,’—-to use the terms of 
Eichler, 1865—consisting of lateral protuberances on each side of 
the base of the “upper leaf’ and extending part way around the 
shoot axis (Pl. VI, fig. 39). This arrangement is also shown, though 
not very clearly, by Pl. VI, fig. 28. The “upper leaf” will produce 
the leaf blade and the “leaf base” the leaf sheaths. The upper 
leaf now elongates rapidly, being composed entirely of embryonic 
tissue, and the succeeding stages are essentially those described by 
Prantl (1883): the cells at the apex are the first to commence 
extension to their mature size, and this stretching gradually proceeds 
toward the base of the leaf. The final developmental stage is 
marked by a considerable growth of the sheaths due to the inter- 
calary growth of the leaf, which Goebel (1898, p. 518) states is so 
characteristic of monocotyledonous leaves. 

A point of interest here is the comparative large size of the sheath 
rudiments at the first segmentation of the leaf primordium (PI. VII, 
fig. 39), a circumstance which will be discussed below under the 
heading of the leaf sheath. 

For purposes of further description, it is best to divide the leaf 
into two parts,—the blade and the sheaths, assuming the blade to 
be that part of the leaf from the sheaths to the apex (PI. I, fig. 2; 
Pl. Il, fig. 6). 


1. The Leaf Blade. 


A cross section of a leaf, made above the region of the sheaths, 
is represented in Pl. VI, fig. 43, 44). An epidermis of comparat- 
ively narrow cells, a subepidermis of wider cells, a single axial vas- 
cular bundle with one subsidiary bundle running along each leaf 
margin, a lacuna or air space on each side of the axial bundle, and 
a few extra interior layers of parenchyma cells toward both edges 
of the leaf and surrounding the vascular bundle comprise, in brief, 
the internal structure of the leaf blade. 


90 A. H. Graves, 


a. Epidermis. 

(1) Chloroplasts. 

An interesting point brought out by a study of the epidermis, 
and shown especially well in the living condition, is the fact that 
here most of the photosynthesis is carried on, for the cells contain 
large numbers of chloroplasts (Text-fig. 12). The discussion of the 
causes of this condition, being of an ecological nature, will be post- 
poned for the present. 

(2) Marginal Teeth. 

The teeth, mentioned above, p. 88 (Pl. VI, fig. 26; Text-fig. 11), 
have already been observed in the leaves of 
Ruppia maritima by Sauvageau (1894, II, p. 209), who 
says, ‘‘a son sommet [1. e. of the blade] la plupart 
des cellules terminales se prolongent en dents 
arrondies composees de 1—2-3 cellules. Des dents 
semblables, mais plus espacées, se retrouvent sur 
les bords lateraux du limbe et font legerement 
saillie.” Ina young stage, as in Pl. VII, fig. 39, the 
teeth appear mostly at the end of the leaf primor- 





Figure 12.— Set : 
Portion of epi- dium; later they may be found down the margins 


dermis of leaf, of the leaf anywhere from 4 to } of the whole 


showing chloro- distance from the apex. Finally, in the adult leaf 
plasts. Drawn 


from living leaf. they rarely extend more than 7 of the distance 
>< 330. from the apex. 

(3) Secretion Cells. 

In the epidermis I have observed also the cells referred to by 
Sauvageau (1891, II, p. 209) as “cellules sécrétrices,” containing, in 
alcoholic material, a granular or a homogeneous content of a 
brownish color, and somewhat larger than the ordinary epidermal 
cells (Pl. VI, fig. 30; Pl. IH, fig. 8). They appear to be identical in 
nature with those of the stem. Although Sauvageau asserts that they 
are most abundant at the edges and at the apex of the leaf, yet 
they appear to me often to increase in numbers towards its base, 
including that part which adjoins the sheaths, as well as in the 
sheaths themselves (Pl. VI, fig. 25). According to Sauvageau 
these peculiar cells occur also in Posidonia, Cymodocea and Halo- 
dule. He has ascertained the presence in them of tannin, probably 
in combination. In my permanent slides their contents were almost 
invariably granular, assuming, with the triple stain, either a crimson 
or a brilliantly refracting yellow color—more often the latter. 
With ferric chloride the contents stained a brownish black and the 
same result was given on treatment with potassium bichromate. 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 94 


These reactions confirm Sauvageau’s assertion that these cells are 
tanniferous. As is well known, tannin is a common byproduct 
in plants, and in this case is possibly deposited in special cells on 
account of the difficulty of its diffusion through the epidermis. That 
these tanniferous cells should be more abundant toward the base of 
the leaf is natural, for it would be more economical for the plant 
to devote as many as possible of the cells in the upper part of 
the leaf to photosynthesis. 

(4) Absence of Stomata. 

Another peculiarity of the epidermis is the absence of stomata, 
which will be discussed later (p. 118). 

b. Subepidermal Layer. 

Below the epidermis, at all parts of the leaf, is a distinct layer 
one cell thick, which I have termed the subepidermal layer (PI. VIL, 
fig. 43), composed of cells about twice 
the width, tangentially, of those of the 
epidermis; and longitudinally, i. e. running 
the length of the leaf, many times longer 
than the epidermal cells (Text-fig. 13). 
This layer contains a few chloroplasts 
(cf. Sauvageau, 1891, II, p. 293). 

c. Vascular System. 

The vascular system of the leaf is ex- 
tremely simple. Three strands of con- 
ducting tissue are present—one large 
axial and two small marginal. 

(1) Course of Vascular Bundles. 

These three vascular strands enter the me ; 

Cae 5 Figure 13.— Portion of sub- 
leaf separately at its insertion on the stem. — epidermal layer of leaf 
The axial bundle maintains a median po- _ blade, showing a few chlo- 
sition and extends to very near the tip eee. Lee 

ongitudinal section cut 
Brethe leaf (Pl: V1, figs. 26,°30; Pl. VU, trom living leaf. >< 335. 
fig. 43); the two lateral bundles enter 
one on each side of this axial bundle, and throughout their extent 
run parallel to it (Pl. VII, fig. 43, 76). 

In the region of the sheaths each of these lateral bundles runs 
along the edges of the leaf proper, just at its line of junction with 
the sheaths, and above the leaf sheaths they retain this marginal 
position. I can confirm Sauvageau’s (1891, II, p. 210) observation that 
they do not unite with the median bundle near the apex of the 
leaf, but disappear—according to my preparations, about 10 mm. 
from the apex. 


Trans. Conn. Acap., Vol. XIV. 7 DercempBer, 1908. 





92 A. H. Graves, 


(2) Structure of Vascular Bundles. 

The axial bundle contains two or three annular tracheae in its 
young stage, which generally break down in the mature leaf to 
form an open passageway; surrounding this portion are phloem 
cells and parenchyma, difficult to distinguish on account of their 
low degree of differentiation, and about the whole axial bundle is 
a pretty definite endodermis, which Sauvageau has also noted. 
The structure of the two lateral bundles is extremely simple, 
consisting merely of a very few small conducting cells (Pl. VII, 
fig. 43, 76). 

d. Lacunae. 

On each side of the central bundle, separated from it by two or 
three layers of parenchyma, are the lacunae (Pl. VII, fig. 43, /a). 
In mature leaves these are of the shape of flattened cylinders, ex- 
tending longitudinally through the leaf, and divided into compart- 
ments by transverse, sometimes oblique, perforated, one-layered 
plates of roundish cells (Pl. VI, fig. 25; Text-figs. 14-15). The per- 
forations are round intercellular spaces, occurring regularly at the 








Fig. 15.—Surface view of one 
of the diaphragms which sep- 


Figure 14.—Longitudinal section of arate the leaf lacunae into com- 

lacuna, showing cross sections of partments. The small circular 

diaphragms; d@7, diaphragm; Za, la- outlines represent spaces be- 
cuna. >< 185, tween the cells. >< 350. 


angles of the cells and affording communication for the air or gases 
from one compartment to the next. 

e. Comparison with Other Potamogetonaceae. 

The anatomy of the leaf of Potamogeton pectinatus, a plant so 
much like Ruppia in external appearance, is almost a duplicate of the 
leaf structure of Ruppia (Schenck, 1886, p. 16 and figure 411 d). 
The other species of Potamogeton show differences more or less 
great, according to the shape of the leaf and the external conditions. 
The leaves of Zannichella palustris (Schenck, 1. c.) and Althenia 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 93 


filiformis (Sauvageau, 1891, II, p. 259, and Prillieux, 1864) are very 
similar, the main difference being the absence in both of the mar- 
ginal bundles, although Althenia has in place of these, small groups 
of fibrous cells. Althenia is, moreover, further distinguished by a 
rather large number of lacunae of various sizes. 

The leaves of Zostera, Phyllospadix, Posidonia, Cymodocea and 
Halodule, show greater differences, of all of which, together with 
the remaining Potamogetonaceae, Sauvageau has made an excellent 
comparative study in his “ Feuilles des monocotyledones aquatiques ” 
(1891, Il). 


2. The Stipular Sheaths. 


a. Structure. 

At every node the leaf envelops the stem by means of basal 
sheaths composed of only two layers of cells. These cells lack 
chlorophyll and become very minute at the free edge of the sheath 
feel, ne. 2; Pl. VIL, fis. 43, sks). 

b. Development. 

I have already (p. 89) mentioned the fact that the development 
of the sheath rudiments in the young leaf primordium is quite 
marked. From the record of measurements (see Table p. 94) of 
the length of sheaths at different stages of leaf development there 
is manifested a certain periodicity in the growth of the sheath. 
Thus its percentage of the whole leaf length in a very early stage 
is high, as is shown in Nos. 1 and 2 and PI. VII, fig. 39;1 next, 
during the special growth of the leaf (see p. 89) this percentage 
noticeably decreases, in some cases to a very marked extent ;? finally, 
due to the ultimate basal intercalary growth, the proportional size 
of the sheath again increases until in the mature leaf the proportional 
length of sheath to entire leaf averages about 1 to 6 (Table, Nos. 
27-38). 

Although, even by making considerable allowance for error, the 
data in the table are not at all uniform, as is natural, yet they do 
bring to light with no uncertainty the large comparative develop- 
ment of sheath both at the beginning and at the end of leaf growth. 

c. Function. 

That this periodicity in sheath development is related to the 
principal function of stipules, that of protection of younger parts, 





1 Such an early enlargement of sheath is mentioned by Van Tieghem 
(1898, pp. 250-251), who speaks of it as quite general. 

2 Possibly the very low percentages are results of environmental in- 
fluence, e.g. position of leaf on shoot, surrounding leaf sheaths, &c. 


94 A. H. Graves, 


TABLE 
of 
COMPARATIVE LENGTH OF SHEATH 
IN THE VARIOUS STAGES OF LEAF DEVELOPMENT. 





























-- Approximate| 
Description of specimen é. © ose & one percent. of 
= | entireleaf | ofsheath |sheath to leaf 
oan length . 
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33 5 Fe 2 57 ae 0875) 5: 25/6: is aay 
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“3 5 i 16 | 2.458 — ,, AGG) 6055, 
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Living specimen 18) 114 s SOLO IIR toe 2.80.55 
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Living matured specimen | 27 |102. so aa es 130s eae 
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" 5 s 38 1163. se eka - 165 





The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 95 


is well exemplified in the leaf sheaths of Ruppia. It is stated by 
Goebel (1898, p. 556) that no general rule can be given for the 
time of stipular development, but that as Massart (1894) had already 
emphasized before him, they are formed and called into play when 
their function is most needed, as is in fact true of other parts of 
the leaf (Goebel, 1898, p. 503). I shall undertake presently to show 
why the leaf sheaths may be considered stipular as to their nature 
and origin. 

In Ruppia the delicate parts in the region of the growing point 
are in great need of the protective offices of the early developed 
sheaths of surrounding leaves; and also the mature leaves, since 
they almost always contain axillary buds, require large enveloping 
sheaths. These considerations may explain the manner of sheath 
development. 

d. Morphological and Morphogenetic Considerations. 

The nearly related genus Potamogeton throws considerable light 
upon the question of the morphology and morphogeny of the leaf 
sheath. This genus, as is well known, embraces a great variety of forms, 
from those with broad floating leaves only (or with the addition 
merely of capillary phyllodia), passing through intermediate forms 
which have both narrow submerged leaves and broad floating 
leaves, to the typical submerged plants with narrow leaves only. 
In the last group we find basal sheaths on the leaves of most of its re- 
presentatives, e.g. P. filiformis, P. pectinatus, P. interruptus, &c; but 
in the broad leaved forms and in the intermediates we find no 
sheaths, free stipules, however, being more or less prominent. 

It seems clear, then, that in the submerged forms sheaths replace 
the stipules; and this deduction is borne out by such a species as 
P. diversifolius, which has the submerged leaves with stipules 
sometimes adnate, and even better by P. spirillus, where the stip- 
ules are always adnate to the submerged leaves, while those of the 
floating leaves in both species are free. 

A comparison of any of the above mentioned typical submerged 
Potamogetons with Ruppia—especially P. pectinatus and P. filiformis 
—shows the similarity of the sheaths in the two genera. One may 
conclude, then that both the free stipules of the Potamogetons 
and the sheathing stipules of the submerged forms and of Ruppia 
are Closely related, being connected as they are by many gradations; 
and it is probable that the sheathing stipule has been evolved from 
the free stipule, such as it is in Potamogeton. 

As to the reason why this form of stipules is developed in water 
plants, the most obvious explanation seems to be that joined to 


96 A. H. Graves, 


the leaf-base they can better perform their office of protection of 
the axillary structures. In the case of the grasses, where the sheath 
is also retained, Strasburger (1908, pp. 29, 30) states that be- 
sides protecting the soft lower part of the internodes when inter- 
calary growth takes place, the sheaths also give the stem rigidity. 
Possibly this latter strengthening function applies also in some 
degree to the sheaths of water plants. 


3. Axillary Scales. 

a. General Characters and Anatomy. 

In the axils of all the leaves are two small, ovate, scaly forma- 
tions, one on each side of the median line of the leaf (Pl. III, fig. 8; 
Pl. VU, fig. 48, as). These structures, common in water plants, 
and first shown by Irmisch (1858, p. 12) to be of general occurrence 
throughout the Potamogetonaceae, consist of generally two layers 
of cells rounded in cross-section, and loosely joined together, con- 
taining large nuclei and a large quantity of cytoplasm (Text-fig. 17). 
A longitudinal section of a single scale (Text-fig. 16), shows that 





Figure 16.—Longitudinal section Figure 17.—Cells from cross 
through axillary scale, showing section through axillary scale, 
arrangement and shape of cells. showing cell structure. 

> in0: >< 1400. 


these cells are long and arranged more or less in rows in the 
upper part of the scale. Prillieux (1864) has found similar struc- 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 97 


tures in Althenia fiiformis, which he erroneously believed to be 
stipules. 

b, Function. 

The nature of these “ sguamulae intravaginales” points to their ser- 
ving the purpose of secreting organs. Schenck (1886, p. 9) is of 
the opinion that their secretion, which covers the growing point, 
is a protection against parasites, but of this point he is not certain. 
F, Miiller (1877) had already claimed that the slimy secretions of 
such cells protected the delicate growing points from immediate 
contact with the surrounding water, a position which Schenck 
(1886, p. 10) criticizes by asserting that it is difficult to see how 
the outside water could injure the growing points. But Schilling 
(14894), who has made a special study of the subject, returns to 
Miiller’s view. He shows that the slime is impermeable to certain 
salts, &c. in solution in the water, and is probably only developed 
until the epidermal tissue and cuticle are far enough advanced to 
make such protection unnecessary. 

Schilling’s arguments are reasonable. The growing point is an 
extremely delicate part and might easily be injured by the salts or 
other substances in solution in the surrounding water. Especially 
is this true of Ruppia, a plant of salt or brackish waters. This would 
be an omnipresent danger to the young growing parts: the attacks 
from parasites would be intermittent or rare. 


D. Subfloral Leaves 


Although along the stem the leaves are distributed at fairly 
regular intervals, just below a flower they approach each other so 
closely as to appear opposite (PI. VU, fig. 35; Text-fig. 18), a char- 
acteristic common to many other members of the family, notably 
Zannichellia, Althenia, Potamogeton, &c. 

These two apparently opposite leaves, which I have designated 
the subfloral leaves, besides differing from the ordinary foliage 
leaves in their mode of arrangement, possess slightly specialized 
sheaths and considerably shorter leaf blades. The sheath of the 
outer or lower leaf envelopes that of the inner, while the sheath 
of the inner or upper leaf surrounds the peduncle, and both together 
form a protective envelope for the young flower before it elongates 
(Pl. Il, fig. 6; Pl. VI, fig. 35). As a result of these conditions, the 
sheaths are slightly wider than those of the ordinary leaves, and 
they as well as the leaf blades are also shorter, the latter character- 
istic being in harmony with the bracteal nature of these leaves. 


98 A. H. Graves, 


In all other respects, however—internal structure, axillary scales, 
&c.—the subfloral leaves are identical with the ordinary foliage 
leaves. ; 

Koch and Irmisch have 
called these two leaves 
“folia ‘floralia,” “an une 
wieldy term, whose Eng- 
lish equivalent is at present 
applied to the modified 
| leaves forming the floral 
fleorsettfci io h A envelope in the Phanero- 
gams. On account of their 
position near the  pe- 
duncle and their slight 
modification in form, they 
approach the category of 
“bracteal leavesv=e nan 


Figure 18.—Sketch of flowering branch, show- ~ Hochblatter” of Stras- 
ing location of flowers and subfloral leaves. burger (1908, p. 31) and 

2) WEOREEE Sze, Goebel (1898, p. 578), yet 
the difference from the ordinary leaves is so slight that such a classi- 
fication seems unwarrantable. I have therefore adopted the term 
“ subfloral leaves,” although bearing in mind their approach to typical 


bracts. 





E. Scale Leaves 


Besides the subfloral leaves and ordinary foliage leaves, two other 
sorts of leaf structures occur in Ruppia maritima, quite similar in 
appearance and structure. These are very small membranous for- 
mations—one kind borne at the base of the ordinary branches and 
the other at the base of the floral axis (Pl. | fio. 1; Plilenoee 
vsl; Text-figs. 19-20, vs/ and fs/). The first sort is plainly what 
Goebel (1898, p. 572) has in mind when he writes of ‘“ Vorblatter.” 
He says, “ Die Vorblatter sind zunachst charakterisiert durch ihre 
Stellung. Wir finden sie—wo sie tiberhaupt vorkommen—bei den 
Dikotylen meist in Zweizahl an der Basis der Seitensprosse, bei den 
Monokotylen wird gewohnlich ein Vorblatt angenommen, welches auf 
der dem Mutterspross zugekehrten Seite des Tochtersprosses steht.” 

Strasburger (1908, p. 429) also mentions “ Vorblatter,” but with 
him they signify bracts or bracteal leaves. It is his category 
‘“Niederblatter” or “scale leaves” that includes the structures 
described by Goebel as “ Vorblatter.” 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 99 


In accordance with the Bonn Textbook I have adopted the term 
scale leaf; the leaf at the base of the ordinary branch will be referred 
to as the vegetative scale leaf, while that at the base of the ped- 
uncle will be termed the floral scale leaf. 


1. The Vegetative Scale Leaf. 


a. General Characters. 

This envelops the base of all axillary structures, except that in 
the axil of the upper subfloral leaf, and is developed on the side 
of the axillary member opposite to that of the subtending leaf. 
Flattened out, it is in the form of a long narrow triangle (Pl. VU, 
fig. 40), from 6 to 13 mm. in length; in position, its edges slightly 
overlap at the base, on the side nearest the subtending leaf 
(Text-figs. 19-20). If the axillary members are young, it completely 
envelops them; when they grow out, forming a branch, it remains 
sheathing the base of the branch. 

b. Internal Structure. 

Anatomically the vegetative scale leaf is composed of two layers 
of elongated large-vacuolate cells, rectangular in outline, with the 
nucleus flattened against the wall, and with a very few small chloro- 
plasts. No vascular bundles are present. PI. Ill, fig. 8 and Pl. VU, fig.43, 
vs/ show a transverse section, and PI. VII, fig. 37 a surface view. 


2. The Floral Scale Leaf. 


a. General Characters and Structure. 

The other form of scale leaf, which I have termed the floral 
scale leaf, occurs always at the base of the peduncle, on the side to 
ward the youngest or upper subfloral leaf (pp. 97-98 and Text-fig. 20, 
fs?) and its base is coincident with the base of the Horal axis for 
nearly one half of its circumference. Its development can be easily 
maeed in Pi EX, fies; -54, 55,.56, 51 and Pl. VIL, Fig. 41, js 2_and 
it will be seen that never at any time does it completely envelop 
the floral axis, as does the scale leaf the base of the axillary shoot, 
but nevertheless partly surrounds it. When the peduncle elongates 
in the course of floral development, the floral scale leaf remains at 
its base, similarly as in the case of the vegetative scale leaf. 
Moreover, in its growth this scale leaf follows the growth of the 
flower and is entirely in independence of the adjacent axillary bud.* 
fel Vil, fig 41, fs 7). 


17 have been unable to find a flower bud in which there was no branch 
in the axil of the upper subfloral leaf, which would of course, be an 


100 A. H. Graves, 


In shape the floral scale leaf differs considerably from the vege- 
tative scale leaf. It is shorter, almost symmetrically oblong and 
emarginate (Pl. VII, fig. 42; Text-fig. 19, fs/). 

The internal structure is identical with that of the vegetative 
scale leaf. 


3. Orientation of Scale Leaves in Floral Region. 


The plan of a typical arrangement in the floral region is represen- 
ted in Text-figs. 19-20. Here we find the members occurring in the 
following order, proceeding from right to left :— 


19 low. sfl_ 


20 





Figure 19.—Portion of the plant near the floral region, showing the two 

kinds of scale leaves and the subfloral leaves. The parts are somewhat 

separated so that they may be seen more clearly. /ow. sf/. lower sub- 

floral leaf; axér, axillary branch; vs/, vegetative scale leaf ; ped, peduncle ; 
fst, floral scale leaf; up. sf7, upper subfloral leaf. > 6. 


Figure 20.—Cross section through flower bud, below flowers, showing parts 
represented in figure 19. Abbreviations as in figure 19. >< 35. 


1. The lower subfloral leaf (/ow, sf/), sheathing the entire flower bud ; 

2. The branch (axdr), arising in the axil of this leaf; 

3. The vegetative scale leaf (vs/), enveloping this axillary struc- 
ture and borne at its base on the side furthest removed from the 
subtending subfloral leaf; 

4. The peduncle (ped), bearing the flowers; 





exception to the general rule. If such cases could be found, showing 
a normal floral scale leaf, this would prove that the scale leaf is borne 
on the peduncle and not on the axillary bract. 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 104 


5. The floral scale leaf (fs/), adherent to the base of the peduncle 
in a position corresponding to that of the vegetative scale leaf ; 

6. The branch (avr), arising in the axil of the upper subfloral 
leaf ; 

7. The upper subfloral leaf (wp. sf/).! 


4, Summary of Distinguishing Characters. 

Irmisch (1851) has described the inflorescence in Ruppia rostel- 
fata. His account is in part as follows: “Die folia floralia bilden 
nun zwei Achseln, aus denen Zweige hervorbrechen, welche sich 
folgendermassen verhalten. Das erste tief an der Basis der Zweige 
stehende Blattgebilde ist eine diinnhdutige abgestutzte lanzettliche 
Schuppe, die sich um den Grund des Zweiges herumlegt. Ich will 
sie Vorblatt nennen. Es steht dasselbe, wie das auch sonst regel- 
massig der Fall ist, mit seiner Riickseite wegwarts vom Mutterblatte 
des Zweiges und dem Bliitenstande A zugewendet”;—and further, 
“Der Zweig in der Achsel des obern fol. flor. ist dem des untern 
in der aussern Bildung gleich.” 

In this and his description following, it is clearly evident that 
Irmisch considered the floral scale leaf and the vegetative scale 
leaf in an inflorescence to be identical, for he alludes to nothing but 
a vegetative scale leaf (Vorblatt) at the base of each branch. Of 
course it is possible that no floral scale leaf, as such, occurs in 
Ruppia rostellata, yet the two species are evidently quite similar. 
For example, Sauvageau (1891. I) finds no differences in the struc- 
ture of their foliage leaves. 

To sum up the differences between floral and vegetative scale 
leaves, they are in brief as follows. 

1. Shape. The floral scale leaf differs markedly in shape from 
the vegetative scale leaf. A large number of specimens was examined 
and this difference was constant. 

2. Position. As shown in Text-fig. 20, but more clearly were the 
section cut at a lower plane, the floral scale leaf does not envelop 
the axillary shoot as does the vegetative, but is turned toward and 
partially surrounds the young flower or the peduncle, according to 
the stage of floral development. 

3. Development. The growth of the floral scale leaf is always 
correlated with the growth of the peduncle and flower—even when 
the axillary structure adjacent is as yet rudimentary. In case the 





1 The axillary scales have been purposely omitted. The cross section 
5 pur} y 
represented in Text-fig. 20 was cut above them. 


102 A. H. Graves, 


floral axis is already well developed, one finds a correspondingly 
advanced development in the floral scale leaf, showing that it is 
now connected with and influenced by the flower and peduncle. 


5. Morphological and Physiological Nature of Scale Leaves. 


That the vegetative scale leaf is a leaf and not an axillary stipule, 
may be accepted without question, for its development occurs much 
later than that of the subtending leaf and its origin is from the 
axillary bud of the latter. As to whether one has to deal here with 
a degenerate leaf, or one that approximates the primitive form is a 
question difficult to settle without a definite knowledge of the 
primitive monocotyledonous leaf form. It is probable, however, 
that the ordinary foliage leaves are nearer to the primitive form. 
Moreover, the lack of vascular tissue and chlorophyll, and the 
simple structure in general indicate a degenerate form. 

Whatever its genetic origin, the early development and complete 
enfolding of the young primordia, which later grow out beyond it, 
point to the present function of the vegetative scale leaf as being 
essentially protective. 

The nature of the floral scale leaf is not so clear. The striking 
fact, however, that the branch adjacent to this scale leaf never has 
a vegetative scale leaf at its base would seem to point to the con- 
clusion that the floral scale leaf is simply this vegetative scale leaf 
now connected with the flower and utilized for its protection in an 
embryonic state. : 


6. Comparison with Other Potamogetonaceae. 


Scale leaves (préfeuilles) are found in Althenia (Prillieux, 1864) 
where there are often two on a branch below the first ordinary 
foliage leaf. They occur also in Zannichellia (Irmisch, 1858, p. 30) 
and Cymodocea (Bornet, 1864). In Potamogeton (Irmisch, 1858) the 
scale leaves are quite abundant, occurring on the rootstock as well 
as at the base of the shoots. The prophyllon, or fore-leaf, described 
by Holm (1905) in his writings on the grasses, is an homologous 
structure. 


Root 


A. General Characters 


The roots in Ruppia, as in many submerged plants, are simple, 
and strikingly reduced in structure. The primary root, formed 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 103 


in the embryo, does not persist; the sole representatives of 
the root system are small slender adventitious roots arising at the 
nodes (PI. VII, fig. 36, 7). These occur singly \Y 
or rarely in pairs and are unbranched. Each see 
root, in the early stages of its development, is 
surrounded. by a sort of pocket formed from aie 
the secondary growth of the epidermis of the 
stem. After the root has broken through the 
tip of this pocket, the latter remains as a 
persistent sheath or collar at its base. A zone 
of root hairs appears on every root, developed 
from specialized piliferous cells (Textfig. 21, rh). 

As to the length of the root, I have measured 
specimens 20 cm. long, but a much shorter 
length is the general rule. 

The life of the root is comparatively short; \ 
for as the stem advances in its growth, new $ 

: Figure 21.—Sketch 

roots are successively put forth from new nodes, — 6¢ portion of root- 
the older roots becoming gradually discolored — stock and root; co/J, 
and ultimately dead, together with the stem Coleorrhiza ; 7, root 


eae hairs ; 7s, rootstock. 
or rootstock whence they originate. >< about 14. 





B. Root Arrangement 


Since the laws of the root arrangement in Ruppia are often obscure, 
as regards both the roots themselves and also their orientation with 
respect to the leaves, a somewhat more detailed description than 
that already given seems necessary. 

Irmisch (1858, pp. 44-45) has described at some length the re- 
lation of root to leaf arrangement in Auppia rostellata, and for a 
more detailed account I would refer to him. The following is to 
some extent a confirmation of his observations as referred to Ruppia 
maritima. 

The root is developed at the node, at one side of the leafbase, . 
and in the comparatively rare cases where a second root is de- 
veloped at the same node (PI. II, fig. 10), it assumes a correspon- 
ding position at the other side of the leaf base. 

Since the roots, when occurring singly, invariably issue from the 
same side of the stem, and since their orientation with respect to 
the leaf of the node is as just stated, the following facts or laws 
of arrangement are established :— 


104 A. H, Graves, 


1. The line connecting the points of insertion of the roots is 
straight, provided the stem has undergone no torsion (Text- 
fig. 22). 

2. On account of the alternate arrangement of the leaves, the 
roots appear at successive nodes on opposite sides of the median 
longitudinal plane of the leaf,—i. e., if at one side of the leaf at any 
node, then at the other side of the leaf at the next higher or lower 
node (Text-fig. 22). 

These simple rules of arrangement are, however, not often apparent. 
In a great many instances the stems to a considerable extent, due 
probably to currents of water, light conditions, &c., become 
twisted. 

In such cases the orientat ionof the roots with regard to the 
leaves remains nevertheless constant, in accordance with the rule 
stated in (2). In other words, no matter what position the leaves 
may assume on the stem, the roots always emerge, in any two 
successive nodes, at one side of the leaf at one node, and at the 
other side of the leaf at the next node. 

Compared with the other Potamogetonaceae, Ruppia has perhaps 
the simplest root system, if one considers the number of roots alone. 
Zannichellia (Campbell, 1897, p. 40), with generally two slender, un- 
branched rootlets at each node, and Althenia (Prillieux, 1864, p. 182) 
with two or sometimes more, borne on alternate nodes, most resemble 
it. The roots of Cymodocea (Bornet, 1864) are often borne singly, 
but differ in being branched. The roots of many Potamogetons 
(Irmisch, 1858) are more numerous, arising often in a circular line 
of insertion at the nodes. In Zostera (Grénland, 1851) and Phyllo- 
spadix (Dudley, 1893) a cluster of roots occurs at each node. 


C.. Anatomical. Structure 


1. The Coleorrhiza. 


Extending for a distance of often 5 mm. on the root from its 
junction with the stem is a peculiar sheath-like structure, termed by 
. Irmisch (1858) the “coleorrhiza” or root sheath (Pl. VII, fig. 38; 
Pl. VUI, fig. 45, Text-fig. 21). Beyond mentioning the fact that it 
occurs in Potamogeton crispus, Zannichellia palustris and Ruppia 
rostellata, Irmisch gives no description of it. In the related plants 
which Prillieux (1864), Magnus (1870), Schenck, (1886), Campbell 
(1897), and others describe, no mention is made of such a structure. 
Sauvageau (1889) indeed merely mentions a coleorrhiza as appearing 
in Zostera. Bornet (1864) notes in Cymodocea the formation of a 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 105 


sheath “more or less short” at the base of the root, but does not 
give a detailed account of it, so that its nature is not entirely clear. 
This is, however, probably a coleorrhiza. 

According to Sachs (1875, p. 143) in grasses 
and some other Phanerogams, the first root arises 
so deep in the interior of the embryonal substance 
that in the fully developed embryo of the ripe seed 
it is enclosed by a thick, sac-like layer of tissue, 
which is ruptured on germination and is known 
by the name of “ root sheath (coleorrhiza).” Similar 
formations occur also in the first secondary roots 
of the germinating plants of Alum cepa, and 
occasionally elsewhere. 

The coleorrhiza! in Ruppia, which is found on 
all the adventitious roots, is of entirely different 
nature. Its development can be observed at all 
the early stages of the growth of the root. The 
first indication of it appears during the origin of 
the young root within the stem. As the young 
root develops and appears in the stem cortex, a 
change in character takes place in certain of the > 
epidermal cells of the stem, and in a few in the sub- 
epidermal layers, which lie inthe regionwhence the 

Barge Figure 22.— Dia- 
root would naturally emerge. These cells become erammatic repres- 
filled with protoplasm, their nuclei enlarge, and entation of root 
cell division takes place, the resulting cells being ee es 
small and narrow (PI. III, fig. 10; Pl. VI, fig. 31; eRe ade 
Pl. VI, fig. 44). In other words, a new growth 
starts up in the epidermis and a few of the cells of the subjacent 
layer, but principally in the epidermal cells. This stage is, of 
course, the most important for the proof of an entirely independent 
correlative origin of the coleorrhiza. 

As the root grows out from the node, the epidermal or coleor- 
rhizal cells divide by anticlinal walls, keeping pace with the root 
growth for some time, and forming the pocket or enveloping sheath 
already mentioned. 




















1 Since the term “root sheath” may be applied to several sorts of 
structures, it lacks definiteness. The subject of the present account, 
however, has a distinct character, as will be demonstrated more fully be- 
low, so that it seems fitting to apply the name coleorrhiza to it. 


106 A. H. Graves, 


A cross section of the coleorrhiza as represented in Text-fig. 23 
shows that it is composed principally of a single cell-layer. The 
section was cut purposely near the junction of root with stem, in 
order to show how toward the proximal end of the coleorrhiza a few 
of the cells of the subepidermal layer enter into its composition. 
As is shown by 


rae: SII) longitudinal — sec- 
Sad S tions, the cells inthe 
CoS: © i) outer or more distal 





region of this sub- 
a jacent layer are un- 

Qe doubtedly the re- 
AS sults of divisions 
Me: ee similar to those 


which take place in 
the epidermal or 
coleorrhizal layer, 
but at the proximal or basal part of this subjacent layer the cells 
are larger and two or three rows deep, and those immediately adja- 
cent to the root are considerably flattened. In this region, there- 
fore, the subepidermal layers of the coleorrhiza are derived im- 
mediately from the cells of the stem without division, being forced 
outward by the development of the root and coleorrhiza. 


Figure 25.—Portion of cross section of root show- 


ing surrounding coleorrhizal layer. >< 400. 


pe 





Figure 24.—Photomicrograph of longitudinal section of young 
root still enclosed in coleorrhiza; co/, coleorrhiza; 7, root. >< 50. 


Pl. VI, fig. 38 shows a well advanced stage, where by pressing 
with the cover glass the root was detached from its connection 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 107 


with the stem and squeezed out of the coleorrhiza, producing the 
ruptured end of the latter. In this figure the coleorrhiza had attained 
approximately its maximum development. It then, with its enclosed 
root, appears to the naked eye as a small, smooth, blunt projection 
at the node. A photograph of a longitudinal section of this stage 
is shown in Text-fig. 24. 

In the course of its growth the young root breaks through the 
coleorrhiza, which then remains at its base as a collar-like structure 
(Pl. VIII, fig. 45; Text-fig. 21). 

An interesting incidental point in relation to the coleorrhiza, and 
one which indeed may be connected with its function, is the 
occurrence in its surface layer (when of 
more than one layer in thickness) of cells 
which are evidently secretion cells (Text- 
fig. 25). 

It will be seen from the above de- 
scription of the coleorrhiza in Ruppia that 
it is of entirely different nature from that 
to which Sachs (1875, 1. c.) alludes. It has 
an external origin, being the outgrowth of 
the epidermis (including part of the im- 
mediately subjacent region) of that part 
of the stem which is situated over 
developing root. 

Such a structure as this evidently falls 
into the category of cS correlative y growths. Teese Netcare 
Having no immediate organic connection from surface of coleorrhiza. 
with the root and yet taking its inception showing secretion cells. 
close on the development of that organ, cateass 
the nature of its growth is analogous, for example, to the correlative 
growth manifested in the development of fruit and fruit-covering 
after fertilization of the egg cell and during the development of 
the embryo. 

As to the function of the coleorrhiza in Ruppia, not much can be 
said with any certainty. Perhaps it acts as an organ of protection 
for the root until the latter attains some length. The facts that it 
occurs only in water plants, so far as known; and that also, borne 
on it, are abundant secretion cells, may point to a functional secretion 
of slime of some sort to protect the young root in the water. 
Goebel (1893, pp. 233-237) has noted this quite general production 
of slime and slime-producing organs in water plants and has ex- 
plained in some detail its beneficial effects. It has already been 

Trans. Conn. Acap., Vol. XIV. 8 DrcemsEr, 1908. 


» 





108 A. H. Graves, 


noted that the axillary scales probably serve a similar purpose of 
protection for the young growing points of the stem. 

The references in literature to a similar root sheath or coleorrhiza 
are scanty. As stated above, Irmisch gives it a mere mention in 
his work, as occurring in Potamogeton, Ruppia and Zannichellia. 
A similar formation in Lemna is described by Caldwell (1899). 
Long ago Strasburger (1873) noted and described an epidermal root 
sheath in Azolla. According to him the sheath was formed of two 
layers of cells, the inner layer eventually disorganizing and leaving 
the root free inside the sheath, which itself surrounded the root 
during its entire existence. Leavitt (1902), however, finds only one 
layer producing the sheath in Azolla, and through this the root soon 
pierces, leaving it as a collar at its base. Quite recently Lachmann 
(1906) has described an essentially similar structure in Ceratopteris 
thalictroides.* 


2. The Growing Point of the Root. 


Four meristematic layers appear well defined at the root tip 
(Pl. VI, fig. 31; Pl. VIII, fig. 44). The calyptrogen is a well marked 
region with several rows of tabular cells. The dermatogen layer, 
one cell thick, encloses all of the remainder of the meristematic tissue 
of the root. This dermatogen layer is continous, even at the apex. 
Inside of the dermatogen layer the periblem rows converge until 
they meet at the apex in a small cell area one or often two cells 
deep. At this same area the plerome originates, and the sides of 
the plerome cylinder are generally clearly marked off from the 
surrounding periblem. 

Miss Daisy G. Scott (1906) in a recent paper has published the 
results of her investigations of the root tips of several aquatic 
monocotyledons. Among these are Ruppia, Naias and Zostera, in 
all of which the periblem and dermatogen arise from a single initial 
cell. These contain, then, according to Miss Scott, three apical 
meristematic regions, giving rise, the first to calyptrogen, the second 
to dermatogen and periblem together, and the last to plerome. 

As will readily be seen, this arrangement disagrees with what I 
have described for Ruppia. Four meristematic regions are always 
clearly defined here. The dermatogen is invariably a continuous 
single layer, and the periblem arises quite often from a two-layered 


region at the apex, always showing at least one layer (PI. VIII, 
fig. 44), 


1 Cf. also Goebel, 1898, pp. 469—470. 





The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 109 


A four-layered type has indeed been known to be unusual since 
De Bary’s (1884, p. 9) work, in which he describes it as appearing 
in only two plants, Pistia and Hydrocharis. Recently Campbell 
(1897, p. 40) has added Zannichellia to this list. 

Beyond the papers of Miss Scott and Campbell, I find no record 
of other investigation on the apical meristem of the root tips of the 
Potamogetonaceae, if we except Potamogeton crispus and natans, 
studied by Treub (1876) and Flahault (1878), who assign to them 
three meristematic layers. 

Considerable doubt and uncertainty have arisen concerning the 
tissue-forming capabilities of the various meristematic tissues of the 
growing point, a subject on which Scott (1894) has written an ad- 
mirable resume. Histogenesis in the roots of Ruppia is, however, 
perfectly clear. The plerome can be traced in its development into 
the central cylinder, communicating with the central cylinder of the 
stem. Thus, Pl. VIII, fig. 44 shows a plerome cylinder connecting 









ep=— -—-- 


Ss OOOO) 


Hy) 
Tee 
| DANTE, 

Figure 26.— Cells: from outer part of cross section of 


root ; ef, epidermis, ex, exodermis. Showing also two 
or three layers of cortex with intercellular spaces. >< 325. 


with the central cylinder of the stem. The width of this plerome 
at its base is about eight cells, which corresponds to the number 
of cells in the diameter of the central cylinder of the mature root— 
i. e., 7—10 (PI. VIII, fig. 46). 


3. The Anatomy of the Mature Root. 

The internal structure of the root is even simpler than that of the 
stem. It consists of an epidermal region and a large zone of corti- 
cal parenchyma limited on the inside by the endodermis which 
surrounds the axial vascular bundle (PI. VI, fig. 27). Each of these 
four parts will now be described in detail. 

a. Epidermal Region. 

The epidermis is a layer of large, thin-walled cells (Text-fig. 26), 
some of which produce the root hairs, to be described in detail pres- 
ently. Beneath the epidermis, but not connected with it genetically, 


110 A. Hl. Graves, 


is a layer of small, thick-walled cells, lacking intercellular spaces 
—evidently a strengthening layer (Text-fig. 26, ex). This may be 
designated the epidermoidal layer, as described by Juel (1884), or 
exodermis, as defined by Vines (1898, p. 111) and Strasburger 
(1908, p. 102). 

(1) The Root Hairs. In a recent paper, Leavitt (1904) has pub- 
lished the results of his investigations on the root hairs of the higher 
plants, a subject which has hitherto been much neglected and con- 
cerning which only scattering references can be found here and 
there in the literature. 

Leavitt has ascertained that the root hairs are of two types, 
depending on their manner of development. The first type may arise 
from any ordinary epidermal cell. The second type of trichome; 
common to most monocotyledons, arises from a _ specialized cell, 
which, in its embryonic state, Leavitt has termed a trichoblast. 

It is to this second type that, as briefly noted by Leavitt, (1904, 
p- 292) Ruppia maritima belongs. According to my investigations, 
the root hairs arise here in the following manner. At a_ short 
distance back of the growing point, certain of the epidermal cells 
begin to differentiate. They are easily distinguished by their deeply 
staining, granular contents, and their larger nuclei, (Pl. VI, figs. 29, 
32, 33). As to their size, there is some variation, but on the whole 
they are of about the same size as the ordinary epidermal cells. 
These peculiar cells are the primordia of the trichomes, called the 
trichoblasts, which by the subsequent development of tube-like pro- 
jections from their free walls will produce the root hairs (Pl. IX, fig. 48). 

As to their mode of origin, there seems to be no regularity. 
Often two or three non-piliferous cells alternate with the tricho- 
blasts, but again, as many as a dozen or more ordinary cells may 
occur between two trichoblasts (Pl. VI, figs. 29, 32, 33). 

Not all of the trichoblasts develop root hairs. They may remain 
simply as large cells with granular contents and large nuclei. They 
are evidently, then, as Leavitt has also noted, potential trichomes, 
the development of root hairs depending possibly on some stimulus. 
This explains why we find zones, often at considerable distances 
apart, where the hairs are developed in abundance. 

A remarkable characteristic of the root hairs is their persistency. 
In roots which measured over 20 cm. in length, quite a number 
of hairs were noted still intact and apparently functioning even 
at the base of the root near the coleorrhiza. This condition is 
very common and may be due to the fact that the hairs are not 
worn off easily in the soft mud. Often, however, hairs do not 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 111 


persist in this way—becoming broken off. Their ‘basal parts then 
appear as blackened dead cells in the epidermis. 

Leavitt (1904, p. 279) lays considerable stress on the small size 
in general of the trichoblasts and bases of trichomes as compared 
with the ordinary epidermal cells. In Ruppia, while some of the 
trichoblasts and bases of mature trichomes may occasionally be 
somewhat shorter, on the whole they average about the same size 
as the non-piliferous cells, even from the very first appearance of 
the trichoblasts (Pl. VI, figs. 29, 32, 33). In her paper on root 
hairs, Miss Snow (1905), from the study of several species, assigns 
no definite length to the hair-producing cells, but announces that 
in the same root the average length of the trichome-cells is less 
than that of the atrichomic cells. 

b. Cortex. 

Although to the cortex proper belong genetically the exodermis 
described above under the head of epidermal tissue, the cortical 
parenchyma, and the endodermis, | am describing each separately. 
Varying with the thickness of the root, from six to twelve concentric 
rings of large, rounded, thin-walled cells with diamond-shaped, schizo- 
genous intercellular spaces, form the cortical parenchyma (PI. VI, fig. 27). 
Often, in the mature root, on account of the radial expansion of the 
tissues, these parenchyma cells undergo a stretching, and separate 
from each other laterally, producing long strings of collapsed cells. 

A longitudinal section proves that the intercellular spaces of the 
cortical parenchyma in the region of the endodermis, are often of 
a somewhat peculiar nature (Pl. VIII, fig. 47, w). These spaces 
arise by a local splitting of the wall, the split parts curving outward 
in opposite directions, forming openings which in the longitudinal 
section appear from spindle-shaped to circular in outline. These 
spaces may occur in series or singly at intervals. Near the 
endodermis they are small, increasing in size in the direction of 
the middle cortex. Before we come to the middle cortex, however, 
we find them elongated into long narrow canals, of which the 
diamond-shaped spaces described above are cross-sections. 

c. Endodermis. 

A single—occasionally, in places, double—ring of cells surrounding 
the vascular bundle, comprises the endodermis (PI. VIII, fig. 46). 
Its radial walls show to a very slight degree the typical endodermal 
thickenings. The tangential walls are minutely wavy at irregular 
intervals. After treatment of cross-sections of the root with con- 
centrated sulphuric acid, the endodermis as well as the epidermis 
and exodermis remain clearly defined. 


412 A. H. Graves, 


d. Vascular System. 

This is represented by a single vascular bundle in the center of 
the root, with a structure similar to that of the stem (Pl. VI, fig. 27; 
Pl. VII, figs. 46, 47). No longer a typical radial root bundle, its 
present concentric structure admits of the same interpretation as 
regards adaptation as does the simplified bundle of the stem (see 
pp. 81-82). It differs from the stem bundle in only a few minor 
details. Barely as large as that of the stem, in all cases observed 
the root bundle retains intact the axial vascular area composed of 
a few tracheae. These tracheae are peculiar in that they possess 
no thickenings of any sort. Their walls, although extremely thin, 
can be distinctly seen in cross and longitudinal sections (Pl. VIII, 
figs. 46, 47, tra). Schenck has observed a similar peculiarity in 
the root of Potamogeton densus. He says (1886, p. 61), “Die Ge- 
faf}e aber erfahren keine deutliche Differenzierung der Wandung ; 
auf Langsschnitten sieht man keine Verdickungen oder nur schwache 
Spuren, so daf die Gefafse als Gange erscheinen. Uberhaupt er- 
fahren in den Wurzeln der monocotylen submersen Gewidchse die 
Gefafse, obwohl sie iiberall sofort zu erkennen sind, keine weit- 
gehende Ausbildung. Die Resorption der Querwdnde tritt meist 
ein, bevor Verdickungen angelegt werden.” 

Five or six sieve tubes, with their companion cells, are situated 
at more or less regular intervals just inside the endodermis, forming 
an irregular ring. These can be distinguished in cross-section by 
their generally larger, nearly empty cell-cavities, their position 
just inside the endodermis, and their accompanying companion 
cells. In longitudinal section the sieve plates may be seen, as also 
the accompanying companion cells with their protoplasmic contents 
(Pl. VIII, figs. 46, 47 s). 

The remaining tissue of the bundle is parenchymatous, and on 
account of its disposition in all parts of the bundle, it is impossible 
to distinguish phloem and xylem parenchyma. It may therefore be 
termed “connecting tissue” in accordance with Van Tieghem’s (1870—71) 
“tissu conjonctif” or Schenck’s “ Verbindungsgewebe” (1886, p. 59). 

e. Brief Comparative Study of Roots of Other Potamogetonaceae. 

In general, Potamogeton pectinatus and Zannichelha palustris agree 
with Ruppia in the vascular structure of their roots. The main 
difference is the presence of only one central trachea, which is 
considerably enlarged (Schenck, 1886, p. 61, figs. 80, 81). I find 
no reference in the literature to the cortex or epidermis of these 
plants, but see no reason why it should differ to any extent 
from that of Ruppia. Very probably also other slender sub- 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 113 


merged Potamogetons, such as P. filiformis, have a similar root 
structure. 

Another plant, whose roots resemble closely in internal structure 
those of Ruppia, is A/thenia filiformis. Epidermis, exodermis and 
cortex are practically identical with the same tissues in Ruppia, and 
although Prillieux’s (1864) description and figures of the bundle leave 
much to be desired, there is evidently a strong resemblance to 
Ruppia. 

The structure of the mature root of Cymodocea apparently differs 
entirely from our plant, most certainly in the composition of the 
central cylinder, according to Bornet’s (1864) description and figure. 


D. Functions of the Root 


As is well known, the two main functions of the root are—1. to 
absorb water and watery solutions from the soil, and 2. to act 
as organs of attachment. That these functions are both of much 
importance in the roots of land plants is an established fact; that 
their relative importance assumes the same proportions in submerged 
plants is not so well established. 

Some authorities, such as Sachs (1887) and Vines (1898), have 
expressed the view that the roots of submerged plants are used 
mainly as organs of attachment. Schenck (1886, pp. 57, 58) 
modifies this somewhat, concluding that the absorption is of not 
much importance, but may possibly supply mineral solutions from 
the soil. 

Strasburger’s (1891) view, as expressed in his work “Uber den 
Bau und die Verrichtungen der Leitungsbahnen in den Pflanzen,” 
is similar to Schenck’s. In the Bonn Textbook (1908, p. 165), 
however, Noll says, “ Wasserpflanzen .... verm6gen Wasser und 
geléste Stoffe iiberall an ihrer Oberflaéche aufzunehmen. .... Die 
in den Boden eindringenden Wurzeln vieler submersen Pflanzen 
tragen aber zur Ernaéhrung und zum Gedeihen dieser Wasser- 
pflanzen wesentlich bei”—thus laying considerable emphasis on the 
absorptive power of the root. 

Pond (1905) has indeed recently proved quite conclusively that 
this absorption is of more importance than was formerly supposed— 
to such a degree that, for example, in Ranunculus aquatilis tricho- 
phyllus, one of the various submerged plants he has experimented 
upon, specimens rooted in soil exceeded in growth those rooted in 
clean washed sand 62.96°/,. Similar. results were obtained by him 
with other submerged plants. 


114 A. H. Graves, 


Not only the evident carefulness with which he has conducted 
his experiments, but also the variety of species and number of 
specimens used, joined with his very positive results, should put at 
rest all doubt as to the importance of the absorptive role of the 
roots of submerged plants. 

On the other hand, Pond’s experiments fail to show conclusively 
whether or not water and dissolved salts are absorbed by the part 
of the plant above the soil—a condition which is indicated by the 
reduction of the xylem area of the root. 

Too much emphasis, therefore, must not be laid upon the ab- 
sorbing capacity of the root, as is shown by the following con- 
siderations :—1. the absence of transpiration as we are acquainted 
with it in land plants; 2. the probable absorption by the parts of 
the plant above the soil of nutrient solutions from the surrounding 
water; 3. connected with these two conditions a reduction of the 
xylem area to a few tracheae of rudimentary nature; and 4. the 
total lack of branches and the slenderness of the roots. 

In brief, the absorption carried on by the roots of submerged plants 
and the importance of this function in the economy of the plant is 
much greater than is implied by Schenck, as the experiments of 
Pond demonstrate; but, on account of the peculiar environmental 
conditions of submerged plants, it can never equal in importance the 
absorption of the roots of land plants. 


THE ECOLOGY OF THE VEGETATIVE ORGANS 
INTRODUCTORY 


In view of the fact that Ruppia is a submerged plant, living under 
water at all seasons of the year, and unable to live out of it, a 
study of the methods by which it accommodates itself to this life 
is of interest, especially when one compares it with a typical land 
plant. 

Of course, in a comparison of these two types, the one point of 
vital importance to be noted first of all is the radical difference in 
the nature of their environment: the land plant pushes its stem 
and leaves into the air, a gaseous medium; while the submerged 
plant extends its shoots entirely surrounded by water, a liquid medium. 

The striking formal, structural, and physiological dissimilarities 
which obtain between land and submerged plants have their fun- 
damental origin in the physical differences of these two media and 
the concomitant variations in quality and intensity of light, temper- 
ature, &c. These physical factors have already been clearly stated 
by Warming (1902, pp. 127 ff.), Schimper (1898), and others, so that 
it is unnecessary to recount them here. 

On account of the various methods of ecological classification 
by different authors, the assignment of Ruppia to a definite ecological 
group is not as easy as might seem at first sight. Among his four 
ecological groups Warming (1902, p. 121) defines the hydrophytes 
as being those plants that are surrounded wholly or for the most 
part by water, and those that grow in very moist earth. Of the 
subdivisions of this group the “Enalid society or sea grass vege- 
tation” includes such plants as Zostera, Cymodocea, Phyllospadix, 
Potamogeton, Althenia, Ruppia, Xc. (1. c. p. 156). 

More recently, however, a tendency has been manifested to re- 
strict the term hydrophytes to plants of fresh water only (e. g. 
Atkinson, 1905, p. 484). According to this view Ruppia is excluded 
and must be classified as a halophyte, an arrangement which seems 
reasonable, if one accepts the literal meaning of the term “halo- 
phyte.” 

As a matter of fact, a study of the plant shows that the great 
majority of its adaptive characters fit it for membership in the 
hydrophytes, and only a few—possibly not more than one or two 
—features added to its hydrophytic characters would qualify it for 


116 A. H. Graves, 


a halophyte. And when one reviews the strikingly diverse char- 
acters exhibited by plants living in salty soil—which is the vegetation 
one naturally thinks of as halophytic—and by those living in salt 
water, it seems best to avail ourselves of Schimper’s (1898, p. 817) 
terms “land halophyte” and “ water halophyte” as a solution of the 
difficulty. 

Considered as a water halophyte, therefore, Ruppia has both 
hydrophytic and halophytic adaptations. I shall outline first the 
former, taking up in order those modifications that occur in the 
shoot and in the root, and secondly describe the halophytic adaptations. 


HypropaytTic ADAPTATIONS 
A. The Shoot 


1. Gross Morphological Adaptations. 

In its external form and style of branching the stem of Ruppia 
presents a marked contrast to the stem of a typical land plant. 
Since water has such a greater density than air, it becomes no 
longer essential for the plant to have a stout, firm axis capable of 
holding itself erect and supporting numerous branches. Instead we 
find the stems of Ruppia long and slim, and except at the very 
apex, of equal diameter throughout. For the same reason the 
branches are similar, and as long or longer than the principal axis 
from which they arise. Hence the peculiar wide-spreading branch 
system which I have already described—a type impossible in a 
land plant without a copious development of strengthening tissue. 

The leaves of Ruppia, arising from such a weak, slender stem, 
are of enormous length compared with the leaves of an ordinary 
land plant having a main axis of similar diameter. This extreme 
length is again made possible by the greater density of the sur- 
rounding medium. A leaf of similar proportions in a land plant 
would have great difficulty in holding itself out in a plane suitable 
for receiving the rays of light. 

The advantages of this extreiae length seem quite apparent. 
Coupled with the narrowness of the leaf, the effect is just as in 
aquatics with finely divided leaves, such as Batrachium, Cerato- 
phyllum, &c., i. e., to present a large amount of surface to the 
water in proportion to the volume of the leaf. This increase in 
leaf surface is beneficial for several reasons. In all probability much 
of the nutrient mineral solution requisite for metabolism is absorbed 
by water plants directly from the surrounding water. Moreover, 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 117 


both oxygen and carbon dioxide are necessary for the life of the 
water plant just as in the case of the land plant. Of the gases in 
‘solution in water, both oxygen and carbon dioxide are present, indeed, 
in a greater proportion than in air. The diffusion of these gases, 
however, takes place much more slowly than in the air, so that 
the larger the area of leaf surface, the more readily will the re- 
-quisite amount of gases be absorbed (Warming, 1902, p. 127 and 
Goebel, 1893, pp. 248 ff.). 

It is obvious, therefore, that for the purpose of carrying on its 
absorption both of gases and nutrient mineral solutions in the best 
manner possible, the long, slender leaf of Ruppia is an ideal form. 

In the salt-marsh creeks and ditches where it makes its home, 
Ruppia is constantly subjected to the action of fairly strong tidal 
currents. On this account also it is advantageous to the plant to 
have slender leaves; for such easily accommodate themselves to 
these alternately inflowing and outflowing tidal currents. This ac- 
commodation becomes the easier from the fact that the leaves are 
not dorsiventral, but alike on both flat surfaces and, therefore, bisym- 
metrical ; a condition which may be referred to the diffuseness of the 
light in the water, as well as the constant moving about of the leaves, 
resulting in a tendency to equality of conditions on both sides of the leaf. 

A condition of general ecological significance, which affects all 
of the vegetative organs, but particularly the shoot system, has to 
do with the tidal currents mentioned above. At times these currents 
are even so strong as to detach portions of plants, which I have 
often observed floating up or down stream, according to the tide. 
These plant segments become entangled in grass, &c. along the 
stream edge, or collect in some miniature cove and then begin an 
independent existence, at perhaps a considerable distance from the 
parent plant. This is probably a common mode of vegetative 
reproduction among such water plants. 

2. Internal Structural Adaptations. 

a. Epidermal modifications. 

In many respects the epidermis of stem and leaf clearly reflects 
environmental influence. 

In contrast to the thick outer or free walls of the epidermal cells 
of land plants, we meet here with a thin wall. Surrounded by 
water, there is no danger of the drying up of the plant by evaporation 
from the epidermal cells—a process which, on the other hand, 
commences immediately on exposure of the plants to the air—and 
consequently a thick wall would here be superfluous. The fact 
that even in Ruppia the outer wall of the epidermal cell is slightly 


118 A. H. Graves, 


thicker than the others, may possibly be attributed to the necessity 
for some slight degree of firmness in the covering of the shoot. 

Besides the thinness of the walls, the epidermis of the leaf 
exhibits the following two remarkable peculiarities, which have 
already been observed in similar aquatics by Warming (1902), 
Schenck (1886), Goebel (1893) and others, and need not, therefore, 
be entered into in detail here. 

The light is weakened to such an extent by reflection on the 
surface of the water, absorption in the water, &c., that most of the 
chloroplasts, for the purpose of the best illumination possible, are 
located in the epidermal cells, which therefore assume the role of 
photosynthesis, but yet have not at all the shape of the palisade 
cells of land plants. 

As in the majority of other submerged plants, no stomata occur 
in Ruppia, nor, as already ascertained by Sauvageau (1891, II, p. 209) 
any of the apical leaf pores found by him in other water plants, 
so that openings of any kind are lacking in the epidermal covering. 
The reasons for this, dependent on the characteristic mode of food 
absorption, the lack of a transpiration current as it occurs in land 
plants, the extreme permeability of the leaves of aquatic plants to 
gases, &c., have been fully elaborated by the authorities quoted 
above (Schenck, 1886 and Goebel, 1893) and need not be dwelt 
upon here. 

It seems to be generally admitted that where stomata do occur 
in submerged species, they are to be looked upon as hereditary 
structures, rather than as possessing any ecological significance. 

Schenck (1886, p. 6) claims that stomata in submerged leaves 
are positively harmful, admitting the water into the air reservoirs 
located in the lacunae. Sauvageau (1891, II), although admitting their 
uselessness, maintains that they are not harmful to the plant. They 
have gradually disappeared from the leaves of water plants, not 
because they are harmful, but because they are useless. 

Development of slime. The slime developed by the axillary scales 
in the shoot has been already treated in detail. It is of ecological 
significance in that a protection is thus effected for the delicate 
growing points against their aquatic environment, the protective 
function of slime being well known (cf. Goebel, 1898, pp. 232-237). 

b. Development of Air Spaces. 

The formation of large and small intercellular air spaces, most 
pronounced in stem and leaves, is one of the most striking histologi- 
cal characters of the shoot system. In general, the larger of these 
air spaces, such as the zone occurring in the stem, and the two 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 119 


longitudinal rows present in the leaves, receive the special name 
“Jacunae.” 

The function of these lacunae has not yet been sufficiently in- 
vestigated. So far as is known, they occur in all water plants. 
Schenck (1886, p. 49) states that water plants grown on land diminish 
the size of their air spaces and, conversely, land plants grown under 
water reveal a tendency toward a loosening up of the cortical 
parenchyma. This necessarily indicates that the formation of air 
spaces is in some way connected with and necessitated by an 
aquatic environment. Haberlandt (1896) has probably hit the truth 
of the matter when he explains that this is a method of obviating 
the difficulty of osmotic interchange of gases in submerged plants: 
“Es wird eine “innere Atmosphare ” geschaffen, mit welcher die ge- 
schiedenen Gewebe einen lebhaften Assimilations- und Atmungs- 
gaswechsel unterhalten.” The larger these inner air reservoirs are, 
so much less will the plants have to suffer the difficulties of direct 
interchange of gases with the surrounding water. It is probable 
also that the considerable amount of air and gases enclosed in these 
intercellular spaces is of advantage for submerged as well as for 
floating plants, by its lessening of the specific gravity of the plant. 

c. Absence of Mechanical Tissue. 

As has been, in part, pointed out above (see p. 116), a land plant 
with dimensions of stem, branches and leaves similar to those 
occurring in Ruppia, must of necessity develop considerable mechani- 
cal tissue. But in no part of the vegetative organs of Ruppia is a 
characteristic thick-walled tissue developed. That such mechanical 
tissue is entirely absent is to be explained in the greater supporting 
capacity of water as compared with air, resulting from the greater 
density of the aqueous medium. In this way this lack of supporting 
tissue is to be considered as an adaptation to environment. 

d. Reduction of the Vascular System. 

The vascular system is greatly reduced. If we except the minute 
cortical bundles of the stem and the small lateral leaf nerves, the 
entire vascular system of the shoot is represented by a single axial 
vascular strand. The xylem portion mostly disappears in the mature 
stages except at the nodal regions, leaving a central cavity in the 
vascular area. The phloem portion is, however, in all cases intact, 
consisting of sieve tube#*companion cells and phloem parenchyma. 

One may lay this vascular reduction entirely to the different mode 
of nutrition employed by submerged plants. On the one hand, the 
food solutions formerly conveyed from the roots by way of the stem 
are probably now absorbed in large part from the surrounding water, 


120 A. H. Graves, 


and on the other hand, the transpiration current, unaided in its work 
by stomata or even by apical leaf pores, and, moreover, rendered un- 
necessary by the presence of water on all sides, must inevitably be 
diminished. 

That the sieve tubes and their companion cells should remain 
intact simultaneously with a complete degeneration of the xylem, 
seems reasonable when we consider that the function of the phloem 
is the transportation of e/aborated food. 

In another respect the reduction of the vascular system is of 
ecological importance ; for not only are the vascular elements reduced 
quantitatively, but also the fact that practically all of the vascular 
system is concentrated into a single bundle, which is axial, deserves 
especial note. 

That this axial position of the bundle in the stem is considered 
to have been attained phylogenetically, througha gradual displacement 
of the more peripheral bundles toward the center of the stem and 
fusion there into a single concentrically arranged bundle, has al- 
ready been touched upon in the account of the morphology of the 
stem (p. 81-82). 

Ecologically considered, this axial arrangement enables the plants 
to bend about easily and accommodate themselves to the move- 
ments and currents of water. For the axial bundle of the stem, 
with its slightly thickened endodermis enclosing the long cells of 
the vascular tissue, is naturally the region most resistant to ben- 
ding movements. Now, it may easily be seen that a plant with 
its vascular area in such a position is capable of bending much 
more readily than one in which this area is more or less peri- 
pheral, as in the typical land plant. Such an arrangement is ana- 
logous to the axial strand of roots, and there subserves a similar 
purpose. 


B. The Root 

1. Gross Morphological Adaptations. 

Another result of the absorption of nutrient solutions by the shoot 
system directly from the surrounding medium is the great reduction 
of the root system. This consists entirely of slender, unbranched, 
adventitious roots arising singly at each gode of the creeping stem 
—a simplicity of form and developme hich is correlated with 
the function of the root, and which has been already discussed in 
detail under the morphology of the root (pp. 103-114). 

As has already been pointed out, the development of a coleorrhiza 
or root sheath may have some bearing on the environment, protecting 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 121 


the root in its very young stages. It may be here again noted 
(cf. p. 107) that possibly the soil or the water, containing common 
salt in solution, would injure the very young root if not thus protected. 

2. Internal Structural Adaptations. 

a. Air Spaces. 

The root cortex, as is the case in the shoot, shows many inter- 
cellular spaces, but much smaller. These, however, are often made 
larger by the collapsing of the cells. The function of these air 
spaces may probably be explained in the same way as in the shoot 
(5119); 

b. Reduction of the Vascular System. 

The vascular bundle of the root, of essentially the same structure 
as that of the stem, admits of the same interpretation, as regards 
the reduction of its elements, as in the stem. Especially significant 
is the reduction in this case, however, since the root is properly 
the absorbing organ of an ordinary plant, and as such should possess 
at all events a well developed vascular system. The absence of such 
a one here is the most conclusive proof of the comparative small 
amount of absorption carried on by the root system. 

In this connection the presence of thin-walled tracheal cells without 
thickenings, still intact in the xylem area of the bundle, is inter- 
esting in comparison with the axial canal caused by their dissolution 
in the stem. Their presence may indicate a need for them in the 
root, and therefore some degree of absorption by this organ. 


Hatopyytric ADAPTATIONS 


A. General 


It was pointed out by Schimper (1890, p. 1047, and 1891, pp. 25 ff.) 
that any considerable amount of salt in the cell sap is detrimental 
to the plant, and that here we have the probable cause of the 
characteristic halophytic modifications, which aim, therefore, at a 
lessening of the transpiration current. To this Warming (1902, p. 309, 
310) replied that even if transpiration were diminished to a very low 
degree, slowly but surely an amount of salt would be collected in 
the plant which would eventually prove fatal. On the other hand, 
Warming saw better logidfin ancther idea of Schimper (1890), which 
has become the widely accepted view at the present time—namely, 
that the protective contrivances against strong transpiration are 
necessary in halophytes, because absorption of water from a salt 
solution is slow and difficult. 


122 A. H. Graves, 


On account of this difficulty in water absorption, then, one finds 
exhibited in land halophytes many water-storing devices and typical 
xerophytic methods of diminishing transpiration. 

The water halophytes, on the contrary, especially the submerged 
aquatics, such as Ruppia, Zostera, Phyllospadix, &c.—members of 
the Enalid hydrophytic society of Warming (1902, p. 156) as above 
noted—evince none of these modifications. The hydrophytic adap- 
tations already described for Ruppia show how closely this plant 
resembles a typical submerged fresh water hydrophyte. Although 
surrounded by salt water to a much greater extent than land 
halophytes, yet it shows none of the characteristic xerophytic mod- 
ifications which are associated with land halophytes in general. 

The explanation of this may be based on the fact that trans- 
piration, as such, does not appear in Ruppia. The comparatively 
small amount of water absorbed by the roots, the absence of any 
openings in the leaf through which water could pass, such as 
Sauvageau (1891, II, pp. 127 ff.) has described for Zostera, Phyllos- 
padix, Halodule and Potamogeton; moreover, the fact that the 
epidermal cells of the leaf, with the exception of the secretion cells, 
are all photosynthetic and absorb solutions from the outside into 
the interior, indicate the giving off of a very small amount of water, 
if any from the leaves. Waste gases, however, can easily pass out 
through the cell walls in solution. On account of these conditions, 
structures adapted to the retention of a supply of water and 
reduction of transpiration, are unnecessary, and we accordingly find 
an absolute lack of such halophytic adaptations in Ruppia. 


B. The Adaptation to a Salt Water Environment 


In one particular, however, Ruppia shows a distinct halophytic 
adaptation. This is exhibited in its power to withstand the plas- 
molytic action of salt water. Ganong (1903) has found that the 
root hairs of certain land halophytes possess specific abilities to 
resist plasmolysis in various solutions of sea water, showing in this 
way a greater or less halophytic adaptation. He says (1903, 
pp. 358, 354), “I found a close correspondence between the halo- 
philism of a plant and the power of its root hairs to resist plas- 
molysis. This power has of course been gradually acquired, but 
what its physical basis is I do not know though we shall probably 
find that substances osmotically equivalent to the salt of the sea 
water have been formed in the sap of the hairs.” 

But Ruppia, and all of the allied salt water genera, such as 
Zostera, Phyllospadix, &c., show an even greater adaptation than 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 123 


these land halophytes, since they live and flourish entirely in a salt- 
water medium. 

Wishing to ascertain how great a concentration of salt water 
Ruppia would stand without plasmolyzing, I tried first a 105 per cent 
solution, obtained by evaporating salt water (taken at high tide at 
Savin Rock, near the entrance to New Haven Harbor), to the 
desired concentration. As is indicated in the following table, 
(p. 125), both leaves and root hairs showed occasionally a very 
slight plasmolysis. In the root hairs, indeed, the protoplasmic move- 
ment continued, although in most cases the ends of the hairs, 
especially, showed a slight plasmolysis. A solution of 110 per cent 
strength, however, prepared in the same way, produced a marked 
plasmolysis in both leaves and root hairs. 

In order to get a comparison with submerged fresh water plants, 
I experimented with the leaves and root hairs of Elodea and Calli- 
triche, with the results as shown in the table (p. 125). 

Compared with Ganong’s results, a few of which also are given 
in the table, my experiments show that the plasmolysis index in 
Elodea and Callitriche is about equal to that of Atriplex and Hordeum, 
so that there is very little halophytic adaptation in this respect in 
the latter plants. This is to be expected, since Ganong (4903, 
pp. 359, 360, 364) expressly states that these grow in the higher 
and drier places of the salt marsh. 

Another point illustrated by the experiments with Elodea and 
Callitriche is the slightly greater resistance in both cases of leaves 
as compared with root hairs. This is hardly to be looked for, since 
it would naturally be supposed that the roots would be accustomed 
to somewhat stronger solutions in the soil and would therefore 
evince a greater resistance to the plasmolyzing action. 

Elodea, as is natural, being a very delicate plant, is more sensitive 
in both cases than Callitriche. 

Being curious to know how much pure salt (sodium chloride) 
Ruppia would stand, I used solutions of 2.5, 8, and 5 per cent with 
the following results. 


1. Leaves of R. maritima, placed in 2.5 °/) NaCl solution, did not plasmolyze. 
2 Sd 
Se ” ” 0 ” ” : 0 


i? "i ,», plasmolyzed in 4—5 min. 


5, ae ese eee * wan about. 2b ';; 
Since ocean water in general is known to contain about 3.5 per 
cent of salts (Atkinson, 1905, p. 622), it would seem from the above 
that Ruppia could not live in it. And yet, as the table (p. 125) 
shows, Ruppia does not plasmolyze in the salt water of New 
Trans. Conn. Acap., Vol. XIV. 9 Drcemper, 1908. 


124 A. H. Graves, 


Haven Harbor, and not often even in a 105 per cent strength 
solution of this. 

This would lead one to conclude a priori that the water of New 
Haven Harbor does not contain as much salts as the 3 per cent quantity 
of NaCl of the above experiment, and certainly not as much as 
the 3.5 per cent of ordinary ocean water. 

On next ascertaining the percentage of salts contained in the 
water of New Haven Harbor (procured, as in the first experiment, 
from Savin Rock, near the entrance to the Harbor, at high tide), 
I found by evaporation that the proportion was about 2.8 per cent, 
as would be expected from the @ priori conclusion. This amount, 
therefore, explains why Ruppia plasmolyzed in a 3 per cent salt 
solution, but did not plasmolyze in the water of New Haven Harbor. 

The sea water used, although purposely obtained at the entrance 
to the harbor and at high tide, is, therefore, quite brackish. The 
fact that Long Island Sound is considerably shut off from the ocean 
and also has several large rivers emptying into it, probably 
accounts for this. Very probably a similar percentage of salts 
prevails all along the Connecticut coast. 

It is possible that the sea water used in Ganong’s experiments 
had a greater content of salt. If so, his results with Atriplex and 
Hordeum mean somewhat more than the comparison in the table 
indicates. 

An interesting point which should not be overlooked, since it 
shows how delicately adjusted these plants are, comes to light in the 
sometimes slight plasmolysis of Ruppia in the 105 per cent solution. 
A little calculation shows that this is about identical in strength with 
the 3 per cent salt solution, at which plasmolysis occurs very slowly. 
It is perfectly clear, then, that Ruppia is adapted to life in water 
containing a solution of sodium chloride and other salts; that this 
solution does not equal in strength that of the ocean in general and 
hence may be termed brackish; and furthermore, that Ruppia could 
not live in such ocean water; that this adaptation of the plant is 
brought about through an ability to resist plasmolysis by maintain- 
ing in some way a higher osmotic tension than prevails in submerged 
fresh water plants, probably by the presence of an equalizing salt 
solution in the cells themselves. 


Percentage of 





The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 


RELATIVE RESISTANCE TO PLASMOLYSIS. 





























LEAF (epidermal cells) ROOT (root hairs) 
E 
‘ . 1 . 
3 Elodea cana- ee Ruppia Elodea ee Ruppia 
aD) densis 4.:, |Maritima| canadensis =, | maritima 
palustris palustris 
10 _- -- - — -- - 
20 — - — - — 
30 : — — 
40 - very slight _ 
very gradual gradual, 
50 | appearing in \ but finally gradual 
about 7 min. | marked 
, very rather grad- Pethee 
60 |bet. 40s. & 2 mJ eradual ual butfinal- Fee 
Nes 9 m. ly marked | © ; 
70 35-—75 s. is ae ES - 1 min. distinet 
2 
80 12—15 s. 45 s.—3 m. — 1 a0). -— 
90 |10 s. & under ie a - 30 s. = 
peti 
100 immediate 15—45 s. -- 20 s. - 
105 immediate ale Pieces immediate occasionally 
: ont mediate viper. Se On very slight 
care distinct rather slow 
110 immediate | | adiate (2nd fairly) immediate — but finally 
rapid distinct 





Comparison with Results of Prof. Ganong | 
on Root Hairs of Land Halophytes! 








plas- 
molysis 











| g d 
; ; : 2 
Salicornia} Suaeda |Plantago| Atriplex | 2 & 
ei Pit p <= 
herbacea |maritima! maritima} patulum Bo 
5 
Hye, 
plas- 
plasmolysis | mo- 
lysis 
plasmo- 
lysis 
plas- 
molysis 


1 Ganong, in all cases, gives the 
solution which the plant will 
“endure without plasmolysis.” I 
assume, therefore, that plasmolysis 
would occur at the next puget 
strength of solution. 


126 A. H. Graves, 


ADAPTATION AND HEREDITY 


When one reviews the manifold ways in which Ruppia is adapted 
to its environment, it becomes clear that this plant represents an 
advanced stage of special evolution, resulting in a particular type 
of plant, growing entirely below the surface of the water and almost 
ideally adapted to the novel conditions which present themselves. 

That the characters of aquatic plants cannot, however, always 
be explained on the hypothesis of adaptation, Sauvageau has well 
illustrated. Another factor should be reckoned with, namely, he- 
redity. For instance, among other examples, Sauvageau (1894, II, 
p. 121) speaks of Althenia filiformis and A. Barrandonii, which 
grow side by side in certain ponds near Montpellier: “Les feuilles 
de la premiere ne possedent jamais d’elements épaissis; celles de 
la seconde, au contraire, ont non seulement leur unique nervure 
entouree d’un endoderme puissant, mais l’epiderme a ses parois plus 
epaisses, le limbe est parcouru par deux gros cordons fibreux plus 
ou moins lignifies, et la gaine en montre plusieurs semblables. Ces 
faits sont completement inexplicables si l’on admet l’action predo- 
minante et quasi exclusive du milieu.” 

It is evident that as Schenck (1886, p. 7) has declared, adaptation 
and heredity are two opposing factors in the transformation of an 
organism, and that “l’etat anatomique .... maintenant depend 
assurement non seulement du temps depuis lequel V’adaptation a 
commence, mais aussi de leur structure originelle et de leur reési- 
stance spécifique a l’adaptation, autrement dit, des caracteres qui 
leur ont ete legués par heredite.” (Sauvageau, 1891, II, p. 120.) 

One meets in Ruppia very few of these useless structures handed 
down presumably from former generations. We have seen that the 
cortical bundles of the stem are evidently rudimentary structures, 
but one cannot affirm with certainty that they are now useless. 
Again, the tracheae of the axial bundle in the shoot become so 
disorganized in the mature condition that it would seem as if here 
were an ancestral structure which is no longer needed. And, as 
if to carry out this idea, we find the tracheae absolutely lacking in 
such highly adapted plants as Ceratophyllum and Naias (Schenck, 
1886, p. 30). 


SUMMARY 


1. It is best to classify Ruppia ecologically as a water halophyte. 
As such it exhibits both hydrophytic and halophytic adaptations. 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 127 


2. The hydrophytic adaptations of the shoot are as follows: first, 
in its external form it shows a weak, wide spreading branch system, 
with slender stems and long grass-like leaves; second, in its internal 
structure, it reveals a thin-walled epidermis, photosynthetic and 
without stomata, in the leaves, a production of slime by the axillary 
scales for protective purposes, a copious internal development of 
air spaces, a complete lack of mechanical tissue and a reduction of 
the vascular system to a single main axial bundle and two small 
lateral bundles in both stem and leat. 

3. The hydrophytic adaptations of the root are as follows: first, 
in its external form, a reduction of the root system to small, un- 
branched, adventitious roots, borne singly at the nodes, and the 
formation of a protective coleorrhiza ; second, in its internal structure, 
the presence of numerous air spaces and the reduction of the 
vascular system to a single, axial, concentrically arranged bundle 
similar to that in the shoot. 

4. The characteristic adaptations of land halophytes are wanting 
here, for the reason that their cause, the need for reduction of 
transpiration, is lacking. 

5. Ruppia shows, however, a remarkably interesting halophytic 
adaptation in its power to live in salt water, which, when applied 
to submerged fresh water plants, causes instant plasmolysis. 

6. This salt water is not equal in strength to that of the open 
ocean, containing in New Haven Harbor, about 2.8 per cent of salt, 
and may therefore be termed “brackish”. 

7. My experiments show also that this power is confined to 
a very slight margin, 1. e., that slightly concentrated harbor water 
causes plasmolysis in both root hairs and leaf cells of Ruppia prov- 
ing that the plant, as now constituted, could not exist in ocean 
water. 

8. The tracheae and cortical bundles are evidently more or less 


rudimentary and possibly represent useless structures handed down 
by heredity. 


THE, REPRODUCTIME ORGANS 
MorpeHoLoGy OF THE FLOWER 


As a preliminary to the account of the development of the flower 
and of the reproductive organs, it will perhaps be in the interests 
of clearness to preface a short description of the mature flower. 
In this connection I shall also take occasion to discuss briefly some 
of the more important morphological aspects of the flower. 

The flowers of Ruppia maritima are small, (83-5 mm. in diameter), 
consisting of two stamens and generally four pistils, with no perianth, 
and are borne in a pair at the apex of the peduncle, occurring 
one above the other, on opposite sides of the rhachis (PI. IX, fig. 49). 
The inflorescence is thus spadix-like, a type which is more pro- 
nounced in Potamogeton and Zostera. 

The mature stamen resembles two thick, rounded, semicircular 
bands closely appressed to the rhachis (PI1. IX, fig. 49), and meeting 
each other on opposite sides of it, each band being the half of an 
anther. In the Bonn Textbook (1908, p. 422), these anther-halves 
are called “ thecae,” and because this term is shorter and more specific, 
it will be used in this paper. A comparison with figure 474 of 
that textbook (1908, p. 422) demonstrates how a stamen of this 
sort could easily be evolved by a gradual separation of the thecae. 
In Ruppia their complete separation at maturity has led them to 
be interpreted as single stamens with bilocular anthers, for 
Roze (1894, p. 476) says: “Je n’ai pu y parvenir, car je n’ai 
jamais trouvé, dans les antheres meme jeunes, une adherence, 
une soudure quelconque qui le (1. e., cette dimimution du nombre 
des etamines) fit supposer. Et il est bien certain qu’a la maturité 
des organes, il est impossible de ne pas reconnaitre que chaque 
fleur presente quatre etamines parfaitement libres, ce qui est le point 
essentiel.” Pl. IX, fig. 50, however, gives a correct idea of the 
morphology of these thecae; for at this young stage the connective 
shows clearly that the structures on each side of it are merely the 
two thecae of the same stamen. 

At this point, it is interesting to note in PI. IX, fig. 50 the extension 
of the connective out beyond the plane of its attachment to the 
thecae, forming what is described by Irmisch (1851, p. 84) as “ein 


fT hag 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 129 


kurzer, abgestumpfter, zuweilen etwas ausgehodhlter freier Fortsatz.” 
This develops still further during the growth of the young flower, 
and sections of it are shownin P1.1X, fig. 51. Irmisch suggests that this 
structure corresponds to the pseudoperianth-segment of Potamogeton, 
which Ascherson (1889) describes as a perianth-like dorsal appendage 
of the connective. <A similar development appears in Posidonia 
(Ascherson, 1889). That Ascherson agrees with Irmisch’s inter- 
pretation, is shown by his generic characterization of Ruppia: 
“Stb. 2, mit sehr kurzen, von den Antherenhalften tiberragten 
Anhangseln des Mittelbandes” (1889, p. 207). Eichler (1875, Pt. 4, 
pp. 89-91) had also supported Irmisch’s view. 

Celakovsky (1896, pp. 48, 49), on the other hand, believes that 
these scaly outgrowths from the connective represent reduced floral 
leaves (Perigonbliatter), and deprecates the supposition that they 
are morphologically portions of the anther connective. Eichler and 
Ascherson get their strongest argument, of course, from Potamogeton, 
which shows such a stronger development of this anther-connec- 
tive structure. Even here, however, Celakovsky (1896, 1. c.) sees 
only floral leaves which have become attached to the connective 
at its base, mentioning Hegelmaier’s (1870) work as one foundation 
for his opinions. 

The development from the connective in Potamogeton resembles 
strongly a floral leaf, although its connection with the anther-con- 
nective is quite pronounced. In the mature flower of Ruppia, after 
the stamens have fallen away, the same sort of structures may be 
seen, two in number, at the base of the group of four pistils, and 
opposite each other. These small structures show a very minute 
projection, the outgrowth of the connective, as was noted in the 
young flower (Pl. IX, fig. 50) and below, on opposite sides of it, 
the scars showing the places where the thecae were formerly 
attached. 

Without going into detail, my own opinion is that the connective 
outgrowths in Potamogeton represent morphologically perianth 
segments; that is, I agree with Celakovsky, and if this interpret- 
ation is true for Potamogeton, it must be true also for the evidently 
closely related Ruppia, which, as Celakovsky (1896, p. 49 and 1900, 
p. 49) emphasizes, is a reduced flower. The reduction is shown 
not merely in the smaller number of floral whorls, but in this ru- 
dimentary condition of the perianth segment. 

It will be seen that the appearance of the thecae in the young 
stage represented by Pl. IX, fig. 50 is much different from that in 
Pl. IX, fig. 49. As the rhachis elongates, the thecae grow in a 


130 A. H. Graves, 


horizontal direction, around the rhachis, closely following its sur- 
face, until finally they nearly meet, as in Pl. IX, fig. 49. 

The pistils, occurring between the thecae in a group of four, form 
a diamond-shaped pattern arranged in a transverse position on the 
rhachis. Each pistil develops, in the mature flower, into a cyl- 
indrical structure tipped with a sessile peltate stigma and con- 
taining a single ovule. 

As regards the number of the pistils, I have never found it to 
vary; but Ascherson (1889), who divides Ruppia maritima, his only 
species of the genus, into three subspecies, says in his generic 
characterization, “4 (selten bis 10)”. Roze (1894, p. 479), indeed, 
makes the number of pistils the main specific difference between 
R. maritima and Rk. rostellata, allegmg that the former has eight 
pistils and the latter four. In this vicinity, however, Ruppia maritima 
seems to have always four. 

Eichler (1875, p. 89), Irmisch (1851), and other older authorities 
do not hesitate to allude to the subfloral leaves of Ruppia (the pair 
at the base of the inflorescence) as the spathe leaves. This homol- 
ogy is not used, however, by more recent authorities. For reasons 
already adduced, I have applied to them the name of subfloral 
leaves. As to the spathe, however, it seems quite probable that 
a rudiment of it is represented in the floral scale leaf. As has been 
shown (pp. 99-102), its manner of origin, development orientation, 
etc. all connect it ultimately with the flower, and although its mor- 
phological origin is clearly identical with that of a vegetative scale 
leaf, its relations to the spadix indicate a spathe-like nature. Since 
the flower of Ruppia represents a much reduced type, we should 
expect to find such reduced structures here.! 


FroraL DEVELOPMENT 


With these remarks on the general morphology of the mature 
flowers, I shall describe briefly the developmental stages of the 
young flower, from the time when it is first recognizable until about 
the period when the archesporial cells first appear. From that 





+ | have already indicated (p. 101) that Irmisch overlooked this spathe- 
like floral scale leaf, and I had been unable to find any reference to it 
in the literature. At the last moment, however, I find that Griffith (1851 
I, pls. 257, 258 and 259; II, pp. 196 and 198) figured and described this 
structure, considering it a true spathe, and explaining its origin and 
development essentially as I have done. 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 131 


point, however, the gross morphological development will be fol- 
lowed duriny the history of micro- and megasporangia and male 
and female gametophytes. 

Very early the floral rudiment can be distinguished from the 
vegetative cone by its greater lateral development, giving it a com- 
parative thickness, and because even here the two protuberances, 
each of which is to develop into a flower, are already apparent 
(Pl. IX, fig. 52). In Pl. IX, fig. 53 these two floral primordia have 
become more distinct. Pl. IX, fig. 54 shows a more advanced stage 
with the floral primordia acquiring the flattened disk form which 
characterizes them at this period, and the floral scale leaf which, 
as has been shown, corresponds to the spathe just appearing. In 
Pl. IX, fig. 55 all of these parts are still more developed, and in 
Pl. IX, fig. 56 one first sees evidence of a segmentation of the 
several parts of the flower. At this point each flower is still disk- 
shaped with the thecae of the young stamens—or their primordia 
—as four swellings situated diametrically opposite one another—the 
central part of the disk being elevated and representing the region 
of the future pistils. The rhachis also first appears well developed 
here, at least at its base. 

Three points of interest will be noted in this early floral devel- 
opment : — 

1. The ongin of the flowers is lateral, forming a type of in- 
florescence which is not uncommon, and explained on the hypoth- 
esis that the nourishment of the vegetative cone is appropriated 
by the lateral members (Goebel, 1898, pp. 178, 179). 

2. Both flowers in the spadix are of the same age. Their origin 
in the periblem takes place almost simultaneously, and they remain 
contemporaneous throughout their entire development. This occurs 
also in Potamogeton, according to Hegelmaier (1870). 

3. The development of the anthers precedes that of the pistils. 

Subsequently, the pistils appear as four rounded prominences. 
These develop by degrees, (but always much behind the staminal 
development) into the mature, rather cylindrical ovaries surmounted 
by sessile, peltate stigmas (Pl. X, figs. 58-66). 


MicROSPORANGIUM 


The initial cells of the archesporium are first clearly recognizable 
at such a stage in the floral development as is represented in PI. XI, 
fig. 68, where the length of a single young flower in section is 


132 A. H. Graves, 


about 0.2 mm. and is about midway between the stages re- 
presented in Pl. IX, figs. 55, 56. This stage is signalized extern- 
ally by the definite appearance of the primordia of pistils and 
stamens. 

Pl. XI, fig. 67 shows the region marked x in fig. 68, being the 
same section at a higher magnification, and reveals the cells in 
one of the thecae of the upper stamen. The initial cells, indicated 
by shading, are distinct from the surrounding tissue by reason of 
their large size, their large nuclei, their dense cytoplasm, and 
especially their strong reaction to stain. In these respects, all are 
essentially alike. 

As is apparent, not only the hypodermal layer, but also several 
of the deeper-lying plerome cells contribute to this group, and 
since they grade off imperceptibly into the sterile tissue below the 
theca, it is well nigh impossible to draw a hard and fast line of 
separation. Thus, it is quite probable that more of the interior cells 
than I have designated are archesporial. 

A point of interest in this connection, and, indeed, an additional 
proof of the identity of these cells, is their previous history. Up 
to about the stage represented in PI. IX, fig. 55, the divisions of the 
meristematic tissue comprising the flower rudiment follow one 
another in rapid succession. From that period on, however, there 
is a slight pause in karyokinesis, with the exception of the divisions 
in -the epidermal region, so that a count of the cells reveals 
practically the same number in PI. XI, fig. 67, as at the end of the 
meristematic condition. But, in the meantime, a_ considerable 
enlargement, cell for cell, has occurred. There is, then, previous 
to the first unmistakable appearance of the archesporium initials 
as shown in fig. 67, a brief cessation of cell division, more or less 
complete, during which occurs a marked increase in their size. 

In one of the Potamogetonaceae at least, namely, Zannichellia, 
more or less uncertainty has always invested the origin of the 
archesporium. Warming (1873, p. 28), long ago, in his study of 
this plant, was of the opinion that the sporogenous cells did not 
arise from a single archesporial layer, but was unable to state just 
how they did originate. Recently, Campbell (1897, p. 41), in his 
study of the same plant, says,—‘ The origin of the sporogenous 
tissue of the anther is not easy to trace, as the archesporial cells 
are at first hardly distinguishable, either in form or contents from 
the adjacent cells. As soon as they are recognizable, there is 
already a group of them whose relation to each other is not 
entirely clear.” 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 133 


In his work on Ruppia rostellata (1902, pp. 4 and 5) Murbeck, 
indeed, locates a hypodermal archesporial initial layer, which is 
quite in line with the vast majority of results so far obtained 
among the Angiosperms. These hypodermal cells divide into 
primary parietal and into primary sporogenous cells, which develop 
in the usual way. 

As is evident, Murbeck’s report does not correspond with what 
I have seen in Ruppia maritima. But the statements of Warming 
and Campbell are strong evidence that the state of affairs I have 
described is quite possible. It is well known that Campbell has 
found a plerome origin for the archesporial cells in azas (1897, p. 13) 
and in Lil/aea subulata (1898, p. 8). A careful study of the history 
of the archesporial initials in Ruppia maritima from the meristematic 
stage, as outlined above, leaves no room for doubt that we are here 
dealing with a comparatively large group of cells which originates 
simultaneously both in plerome and periblem. Very probably, as 
Warming’s and Campbell's studies indicate, Zannichellia develops in 
a similar way. The archesporial initials of Lemna minor, as figured 
by Caldwell (1899, figure 13), to whose paper I shall have occasion 
to refer more at length later, closely resemble those of Ruppia 
maritima. On the other hand, Wiegand (1899, p. 344) finds the 
archesporium in Potamogeton traceable to a single hypodermal cell. 

Pl. XI, fig. 69 shows a more advanced stage, the length of the 
young flower (fig. 70), measured as in the preceding case, being about 
0.25 mm. One or two divisions have occurred evidently in all the 
cells. Although the cells representing the parts of the mature 
microsporangium are as yet entirely undifferentiated as to their 
contents, yet the manner of cell-division and the orientation of the 
walls give evidence of a commencement of a differentiation. First, 
the majority of the hypodermal cells have divided by a periclinal 
wall, thus separating off the primary parietal layer. Second, at the 
left of the top of the figure, there is the first indication, by character- 
istic periclinal and anticlinal divisions, of the future septum dividing 
the two sacs of the theca. 

In Pl. XI, fig. 71, with a length of flower about 0.3 mm, this wall of 
separation between the two sacs becomes quite distinct. Its cells 
have a much less dense content than the archesporial cells, and 
are thus clearly marked off from them, as well as by the orientation 
of their walls. 

A parallel case of a wall formed in an exactly similar way has 
recently been found by Caldwell (1899, pp. 47, 48) in Lemna 
minor. Coulter and Chamberlain (1903, pp. 39, 40) in commenting 


134 A. H. Graves, 


on this condition in Lemna, say, “To divide a large sporogenous 
mass by sterile plates for better nutrition is too common to call 
for special remark.” As mentioned by Caldwell and Goebel 
(1898, p. 770), Isoetes presents a similar condition of formation of 
sterile plates of tissue from a fairly large archesporial mass.! 

The archesporial cells, therefore, now appear as two definite, 
rounded, densely staining masses, composed of sporogenous cells, 
surrounded by a primary parietal layer, which has undergone a 
periclinal division in two or three places. 

The first periclinal divisions in the primary parietal layer have 
become more general in the next stage, Pl. XI, fig. 73, which is from 
a flower about 0.33 mm. in length. The septum between the two 
sacs is also more conspicuous, and divisions continue in the sporo- 
genous tissue. 

At a considerably later period, with the length of the flower 
about 0.5 mm. ‘Pl. XI, fig. 74), the parietal layers are still two or 
occasionally three in number. Indications appear here that the ta- 
petum is forming from the marginal sporogenous tissue. Nuclear 
divisions continue among the sporogenous cells. 

Soon after this stage, however, the sporogenous cells attain their 
final number, and all division ceases, followed by an enlargement 
to the mature pollen mother-cells, just as Murbeck (1902) has re- 
corded for Ruppia rostellata. 

Pl. XI, fig. 75 shows how the tapetal cells, now unmistakable in 
form and structure, bound the sporogenous cells-—which may now 
be termed the pollen mother-cells—and are undoubtedly derived 
from them. According to Rosenberg (1901, IL), Zostera also forms 
tapetum from the ends of its long sporogenous cells, and Coulter 
and Chamberlain (1903. p. 37) have shown that this is not unusual 
nor unnatural. In this respect, together with the number of chro- 
mosomes in the dividing sporogenous cells, which I have found to 
be 16, and also the three or four parietal layers between the epi- 
dermis and tapetum, R. maritima corresponds exactly with R. ro- 
stellata, as described by Murbeck (1902, p. 5). It is interesting to 
note here that Wiegand (1899, pp. 344 and 345), finds in Potamogeton 
fohosus that the tapetum is “differentiated from the wall rather 
than from the archesporium.” 

There remain to be mentioned the dissolution of the tapetal cells. 
(Pl. XI, fig. 76), the development of thickenings in the subepidermal 
layer, and the final dehiscing of the anther by a longitudinal split. 


1 A like situation has been carefully described by Bower (1897, pp. 41 ff.), 
for Danaea and other Marattiaceae. 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 135 


MErGASPORANGIUM 


The usual method of development of the megasporangium cor- 
responds in every particular to that of Ruppia rostellata, as des- 
cribed by Murbeck (1902, pp. 10, 11), so that it would be use- 
less to duplicate his careful description here. Stated briefly, the 
process is as follows: At astage in the growth of the pistil represented 
in Pl. X, fig. 62, or when it is about 0.25 mm. in length, a hypo- 
dermal cell in the young nucellus, in the region marked x, becomes 
considerably larger than its neighbors, with a larger nucleus, and 
more densely staining contents. This then divides by a periclinal 
wall, forming an outer, primary parietal cell, and an inner, megaspore 
mother-cell. The primary parietal cell now divides twice succes- 
sively by anticlinal walls, at right angles to each other, forming a 
plate of four cells, or, through a third anticlinal division, sometimes 
six cells. During this time the two integuments successively make 
their appearance. Meanwhile, the megaspore mother-cell enlarges, 
and with preparations for the first reduction division the history 
of the female gametophyte begins. 

In Zannichellia, Campbell (1897, pp. 45, 46) finds two parietal 
layers formed at first, but these later divide into several layers. 
A much greater development of parietal tissue has been observed 
by Wiegand (1900, pp. 31, 32) in Potamogeton folhosus and by Holferty 
(1901, p. 341) in Potamogeton natans. In the latter case it is def- 
initely stated that sometimes eight layers le between the embryo 
sac and the epidermis. In other respects the development of the 
megasporangium in both of these genera is essentially the same 
as in Ruppia. In Lemna, according to Caldwell (1899, pp. 56, 
57), there are not more than two parietal layers formed, and the 
other details of the megasporangial development are practically 
the same as in Ruppia. 

Coulter and Chamberlain (1903, p. 65) state that the suppression 
of the parietal tissue among the monocotyledons ‘is usually asso- 
ciated also with the greater or less development of this tissue,” a 
point which is illustrated here in the Potamogetonaceae by the 
condition in Potamogeton. “The strongest argument,” to quote 
these writers further, “that suppression of the parietal tissue of the 
megasporangium is a strong tendency among Angiosperms, is that 
this condition is universal among the Sympetalae so far as investig- 
ated.” 


1 Rarely two layers of parietal cells are formed (Fig. 78). 


136 A. H. Graves, 


Before I leave the account of the megasporangium, two cases in 
which the archesporium was undoubtedly two-celled should be 
recorded. Murbeck (1902, p. 14 and figure 35) has figured a double 
megaspore mother-cell, which, however, according to his explanation, 
is caused by the very oblique orientation of the wall between 
primary parietal and primary sporogenous cells, making this wall 
almost perpendicular to the epidermis and hence resulting in two 
large cells, apparently both potential megaspore mother-cells, and 
bounded exteriorly by the epidermis. 

But my first illustration (Pl. XI, fig. 77) shows a clearly differ- 
entiated, single, parietal layer and two large megaspore mother- 
cells with their common wall very distinct and quite perpendicular 
to the epidermis. The second example has developed somewhat 
further (Pl. XI, fig. 78), the two megaspore mother-cells having 
passed through the first division, a cross wall being formed, which 
divides each into two essentially equal daughter-cells. Here may 
also be noted the rather uncommon occurrence of two parietal layers. 

On the analogy of the microsporangium of Angiosperms, it would 
seem most natural that multicellular archesporia should occur also 
in the megasporangium. Through the investigations of Strasburger 
(1879), Fischer (1880), and among others, especially Péchoutre (1902), 
we have come te know that such a multicellular archesporium is 
quite general in the megasporangia of the Rosaceae; and that it 
also occurs in many other dicotyledonous groups has been sufficiently 
proven. 

On the other hand, the reports of an archesporium of more than 
one cell in the megasporangium of monocotyledons are meagre, 
and, as reviewed by Coulter and Chamberlain, may be embraced 
in two cases, Ornithogalum pyrenaicum (Guignard, 1882), and 
Lilium candidum (Bernard, 1900). In these instances the archesporium 
is presumably always more than one-celled. There are, however, 
many Cases, such as some of the Ranunculaceae, when the archespo- 
rial cells vary from one to many (Mottier, 1895, and Coulter, 1898). 
To such as these last the condition in Ruppia maritima is similar. 


FEMALE GAMETOPHYTE 


As it is now regarded, the history of the female gametophyte 
commences with the preparations for the first division in the mega- 
spore mother-cell. As regards this preparatory stage, I find that 
Ruppia maritima does not deviate essentially from R. rostellata, 


ee es 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 137 


and I have, therefore, no occasion to alter or .add to Murbeck’s 
excellent description. 

In brief, the changes are very similar to those which lead up to 
the first division in the pollen mother-cells. The megaspore mother- 
cell and its nucleus enlarge, while the latter goes through the 
synapsis and succeeding stages, the staining reactions being 
essentially the same and even the fine kinoplasmic fibers appearing 
in the cytoplasm the same as in the corresponding stages in the 
pollen mother-cell. 

In the spindle formed for the first reduction division, eight chromo- 
somes appear (Pl. XII, fig. 80), as Murbeck also announces in 
Ruppia rostellata. Although the chromosomes are here much thicker 
than in the sporophytic karyokinesis, they are nevertheless still so 
small that any definite declaration concerning their shapes and 
method of splitting is well nigh impossible. Still, as Murbeck has 
noted, the ring and Y-shaped forms characteristic of the heterotypic 
division are occasionally apparent. 

After the nucleus of the megaspore mother-cell has divided, we 
find a wall laid down separating the two daughter-cells (cf. Mur- 
beck, 1902, fig. 45). In this connection, reference might be made 
to the case already noted under the megasporangium (p. 136), where 
a double megaspore mother-cell was found. producing in each case 
two such daughter-cells (Pl. XI, fig. 78). 

The second division follows closely on the first, with a very slight 
pause, similarly as in the pollen mother-cells. The two walls re- 
sulting from these divisions are, however, laid down at quite different 
planes with respect to each other, that is, the wall dividing the 
two inner cells is periclinal, while that separating the two outer is 
anticlinal. Thus the two outer cells are both in contact with the 
third cell, and are separated by it from the innermost cell. The 
plane of the anticlinal wall is, however, obliquely situated with 
regard to the plane of a horizontal or vertical median section of 
the megasporangium; in other words, it is oblique to the plane of 
the paper on which such a section is represented, so that an ob- 
lique position of the two upper cells with respect to this plane 
results. 

This arrangement is shown by Murbeck (1902, pp. 13, 14, 
fig. 51). But often, due partly to the manner of cutting the section 
and partly to the orientation of the outer anticlinal wall, the pos- 
ition and even the number of cells is not so apparent, since one 
of the two upper cells then lies more or less completely over the 
other. Such a case is represented in PI. XI, fig. 79, which a hasty 


138 A. H. Graves, 


glance might have interpreted as three megaspores, the upper two 
becoming resorbed. But careful focussing discloses another outer 
cell at a somewhat lower plane. Murbeck (1902) figures a similar 
case in Ruppia rostellata. 

This departure from the usual method of division of the mega- 
spore mother-cell, in which, in general, the resulting cells are 
formed in a straight row, is fully commented upon by Murbeck 
(1902, p. 13), who states that it has been found also in A/honia 
nyctaginea, Helleborus foetidus and Ceratophyllum demersum; and 
to his work I refer for a fuller account of the whole matter and 
for literature bearing upon the subject. A concise morphological 
consideration of such a location of the potential megaspores is also 
set forth by Coulter and Chamberlain (1903), who although they 
do not mention the case of Ruppia rostellata, note a similar arrange- 
ment of the outer two cells as occurring in Butomus (Ward, 1880), 
Jeffersonia (Andrews, 1895), and Potamogeton (Holferty, 1901). 

Moreover, that this position of megaspores is not an invariable 
rule in Ruppia maritima, is shown by such a case as 1s illustrated 
by Pl. XII, fig. 81, where the four cells appear in a row, the two 
outer ones already much disorganized. 

Before proceeding further, the condition shown in Pl. XII, fig. 82 
should be noted, where the nucleus of the upper of the two daughter- 
cells has divided, but no wall has been formed, and the whole cell, 
along with its neighbor below, is undergoing resorption. Such a 
happening seems natural when one reflects that the division in the 
lower daughter-cell in general precedes that in the upper cell, 
producing a tendency by the earlier development of the former, 
to reduce activity in the upper daughter-cell. It will be seen later 
that this omission of the wall in the upper daughter-cell is the 
ordinary occurrence in Potamogeton foliosus. 

In all cases the lowest of these four cells becomes the functional 
megaspore, the upper three cells becoming resorbed, as in Ruppia 
rostellata (Murbeck, 1902, pp. 14, 15). 

In Potamogeton natans, Holferty (1901) describes cases of four 
megaspores with the same arrangement as in Ruppia, the innermost 
functioning. 

In Potamogeton foliosus, described by Wiegand (1900), the con- 
dition is quite different and yet exhibits points of similarity. The 
first reduction division produces two daughter-cells, separated 
by a wall. The second division then takes place in each of these 
cells, and the resulting nuclei occupy practically the same positions 
as‘ they do in Ruppia. No walls are formed after this division, 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 139 


however. If they were, it is evident that a tetrad similar to that 
in Ruppia would have resulted. The upper daughter-cell with its 
two nuclei now becomes disorganized, and the lower cell becomes 
the embryo-sac, its nuclei producing directly the embryo-sac nuclei. 

Zostera marina forms three megaspores, according to Rosenberg 
(1901, I, p. 9), the lowest functioning. The uppermost, however, in 
his Figure II looks much like Figure 51 of Murbeck (1902), and 
like many of my own preparations, gives indications of two cells 
obliquely arranged. 

In Zannichellia the state of affairs is surprisingly different. Ac- 
cording to Campbell (1897, pp. 45, 46), a row of three cells is 
formed, of which the uppermost becomes the functioning megaspore. 
Since this is so strikingly diverse from what takes place in Ruppia, 
Zostera and Potamogeton, it would seem as if it needed confirmation. 

The functional megaspore now proceeds to the forrnation of the 
embryo-sac by a series of stages which are quite in line with 
those which have been found to be so remarkably constant among 
the Angiosperms. PI. XII, fig. 82 shows the megaspore nucleus 
in process of division, while Fig. 83 discloses the resulting two 
nuclei, one at each end. Fig. 84 shows the four nuclei coming 
from these two. Fig. 85 represents a mature embryo-sac with 
synergidae and egg of characteristic form and structure. The 
antipodal cells are always three in number, their nuclei being sur- 
rounded by a definite layer of cytoplasm and apparently by a thin, 
membranous wall. Often they appear rounded in form (PI. XII, 
fig. 85) and again angular (Fig. 86), in the latter case showing 
clearly their relations to each other. They resemble strongly those 
figured by Murbeck (1902, fig. 53) in Ruppia rostellata and by 
Campbell (1897, fig. 109) in Zannichelha palustris, and like them 
are situated in a small pouch at the base of the embryo-sac. 

A peculiarity of these antipodals is the conspicuous blue color 
of their nuclei with the triple stain, showing an unusual tint of the 
blue, and possibly indicating degeneration. Thus they are strongly 
contrasted with adjacent nucellar nuclei and may be readily dis- 
tinguished. They were not observed to divide, however, as in the 
case of certain recently investigated monocotyledons. Apparently 
their life is short, for they disappear in stages slightly older than 
Pl. XU, fig. 85. 


Mate GAMETOPHYTE 


Since my studies of the male gametophyte of Ruppia maritima 
agree closely with those of Murbeck (1902), it would be useless here 
Trans. Conn. Acap., Vol. XIV. 10 DecEMBER, 1908. 


140 A. H. Graves, 


to go into a lengthy description. For the sake of completeness, 
however, I will review the more important points, noting a few minor 
differences from Murbeck’s results, and adding a few observations 
of my own. 

We may regard the history of the male gametophyte as beginning 
with the appearance of the synapsis stage in the pollen mother-cells, 
which precedes the first reduction division and signalizes the special 
preparations for that process. Seven different flowers chanced to be 
fixed during this stage, and the appearance of the pollen mother- 
cells in all was typical (PI. XI, fig. 87). The nuclei are very large, 
but no knoblike processes are appended to them, such as Wiegand 
(1899) figures for Potamogeton foliosus. Although some such appear- 
ance was occasionally found, it was not sufficiently general to be 
called typical of this stage. 

In the first reduction division I succeeded in finding several cases 
of multipolar spindles, as Murbeck (1902, p. 7) has also reported. The 
two reduction divisions follow one another in rapid succession, form- 
ing a tetrad, whose members are oriented to each other after the 
manner of the four quadrants of a somewhat elongated sphere (see 
Murbeck, fig. 16). A similar arrangement is figured by Bornet (1864) 
in Cymodocea, and is not uncommon in the monocotyledons in general. 
During the two reduction divisions I was able in several cases to 
count eight chromosomes, which is, therefore, the reduction number, 
as Murbeck (1902) also found in Ruppia rostellata. 

In the study of the development of the pollen-grain, as in other 
structures, I found it of advantage to use a certain definite method 
of external measurement as an index to the stage of internal develop- 
ment. Thus, in the case of the pollen-grain, I chose the length of 
the grain, which, from its first formation in the tetrad to the mature 
condition, increases from about 175 w to about 550 w. Although 
these dimensions are subject to some variation, even in the same 
pollen-sac, yet they are fairly constant for the same period of growth. 

At the time of the formation of the tetrads the nucleus is in an 
approximately central position. Very soon after, or while the grain 
is still not much more than 175 w in length, the nucleus shows a 
position nearer to one end of the grain (PJ. XII, fig. 88), and a central 
zone of small starch grains has appeared. Almost immediately there- 
after one finds the nucleus at the end of the grain, the starch grains 
having become considerably larger and uniformly distributed (Pl. XI, 
fig. 89). A nuclear division now ensues (Fig. 90), and as a result, 
the small lenticular cell at the end of the grain, the generative cell, 
is formed (Fig. 92). 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 144 


As to the number of chromosomes distributed to the daughter- 
nuclei in this division, it is impossible to state it exactly, after a care- 
ful study. Murbeck, however, succeeded in finding a very clear 
case where eight appeared in the nuclear plate, and judging from 
the count in the two preceding mitoses, and also from general 
appearances in the division, it appeared to me as if eight was the 
most probable number in Ruppia maritima. The chromosomes in this 
division, as in the much later one when two male cells are formed 
(p. 142), are extremely small—much smaller than in the first and 
second divisions in the pollen mother-cell—so that even with the 
highest powers of the microscope they are very difficult to identify. 

A few words should be added regarding the generative cell at 
this period. As Murbeck has noted, its nucleus is smaller than 
the tube-nucleus, but, judging from the staining reactions of the two, 
it contains a comparatively larger amount of chromatin. Moreover, 
a definite aggregation of cytoplasm surrounds the generative nucleus. 
As Murbeck has announced in Ruppia rostellata, so here no membrane 
separates this cell from the rest of the microspore, and it is evident 
that one sees here a naked cell, such as occurs in the case 
of the egg or synergidae of the embryo-sac. On the other hand, 
Wiegand (1899, pp. 352, 3538, figs. 41, 42) finds the generative 
cell in Potamogeton—which, by the way, is not formed until the 
“spores reach their full size”—enclosed in a definite membrane. 
A distinct wall is also found in Typha by Schaffner (1897. [.) and in 
Naias and Sparganium by Campbell (1897, 1899). Rosenberg (1901. I.) 
in Zostera mentions only a very indistinct wall at a later stage, 
when the two male cells are formed, separating them from the 
surrounding pollen-plasm. : 

In most cases, though by no means always, a narrow space separ- 
ates this cell from the rest of the microspore, which a study of a 
large number of sections shows is undoubtedly due to a contraction. 
(el) X10, fig. 92). 

The microspore now enters upon a long period of growth, during 
which it increases in length from the 175—225 w of the above des- 
cribed stages to the 500-550 w of the mature condition. During 
this period it gradually assumes its curious bow-shaped form, with 
the characteristic dumbbell-like expansions at the ends, and also a 
considerable dilatation centrally at the convex side of the bow 
(Pl. XII, fig. 95). 

A pollen-grain so remarkable in shape is not unique among the 
Potamogetonaceae; for the pollen-grain of Cymodocea is also un- 
usual, being a long filamentous grain measuring, according to Bornet 


142 A. H. Graves, 


(1864), ten by about two thousand yw, while the microspores of Zostera 
(Rosenberg 1901, II) are three by about two thousand w when mature. 
Moreover, in Phyllospadix, grouped by Ascherson (1889) with Zostera 
in the subfamily Zostereae of the Potamogetonaceae, Dudley (1893) 
has found the pollen grains to measure about four or five by one 
thousand w. Dudley (1893, p. 412) states that “They are slightly 
flattened at the extremity and some are enlarged toward the middle.” 

During this long period of development to the mature form, 
several noteworthy internal changes occur. The tube-nucleus (PI. XI, 
figs. 92, 93 ¢w) gradually undergoes degeneration, until in the mature 
grain it often appears fragmentary or angular. The starch grains, 
so prominent in the early stages, become for the most part smaller 
and fewer, and one seems warranted in concluding that a part of 
their substance has been utilized in the formation of the grain. 

It is not until the mature condition, or when the pollen is about 
ready to be discharged, that the generative cell divides. When 
this is to take place, the latter assumes a position in which its long 
axis is more or less parallel with the long axis of the microspore. 
The two resulting male cells remain united as in Potamogeton foliosus 
(Wiegand, 1899), each surrounded by a considerable layer of cytoplasm 
(Pl. XII, fig. 94). 

Moreover, even at this stage, no wall separates the male cells from 
the cytoplasm of the pollen-grain, but there is a fine cell-plate 
formed between the two cells. As a slight variation from Murbeck’s 
figure, I tind that for the most part in Ruppia maritima a moderate con- 
striction occurs between the two male cells, in the region of the 
cell-plate. 

One feature which has not been thoroughly worked out in the 
pollen-grain of Ruppia and indeed has been much neglected in the 
study of the male gametophyte in general, is the origin and growth 
of the microspore wall. 

Murbeck (1902) has described the peculiar thickenings of the 
mature wall, the latter consisting of a single thin layer. 

Since I was fortunate enough to have a large number of sections 
of all stages of the growth of the pollen-grain, the development of 
the wall from the pollen mother-cell stage to the mature microspore 
was comparatively easy to trace. 

The wall of the pollen mother-cell, after it has separated from 
its neighbors, is very thin. After formation of the tetrads, this wall 
thickens and becomes the free or outer wall of the tetrads, while 
the interior walls of the tetrad are laid down immediately after 
the two reduction divisions, Pl. XII, fig. 88. These tetrad cells do 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 143 


not separate: the protoplasts forming the future pollen grains may 
be said to simply occupy the four quadrant-like compartments in 
the spherical structure comprising the tetrad. The walls at this 
stage are of noteworthy appearance by reason of their considerable 
thickness—being thicker than the wall of the pollen-grain at any 
future time—and also from their transparency, refracting the light 
in such a way that they appear gelatinous. 

The tetrad walls appear now to expand, leaving the pollen proto- 
plasts naked within them. Such a condition is shown in PI. XII, 
fie. 97. Finally the walls entirely dissolve. 

Judging from Murbeck’s account, these conditions escaped his 
notice, for he speaks of the membrane of the tetrads as showing 
“noch keine Spur von Oberflachenstruktur ” (1902, p. 8). 

The process is, however, essentially the same as that described 
by Strasburger (1882, pp. 87 ff.; 1889, pp. 36 ff.) for the pollen- 
grain of Malva crispa and other plants. Only one marked difference 
occurs, namely, that in Malva crispa, &c. the old pollen mother- 
cell wall is apparently cast off and does not take part in the wall 
formation of the tetrads. 

From now on a wall develops around the young pollen-grain, 
but, as in the cases of Naias and Zannichellia, remains a single 
thin membrane (Pl. XII, tig. 94). 

Very early (Pl. XII, fig. 97) the local thickenings begin to be 
formed on the outer surface of the wall. These in this early stage 
are difficult to see clearly on account of their transparence. They 
seemed, however, to be the result of depositions on the wall and 
not do develop from radial bands in its interior. Ultimately these 
thickenings appear in the shape of low ridges arranged to form 
irregular polygons, at whose intersection are short spines, with a 
slight knob at the end (Pl. XII, fig. 96, @ and 6). At the ends of 
the grain and at its expanded center, these spines become shorter, 
or are absent altogether (Pl. XII, fig. 94). It is probable that at 
these localities the pollen tube commences its formation. 


POLLINATION 


Ruppia is one of the few of the higher plants to which, in 
respect of the process of pollination, the term hydrophilous may be 
applied. In other words, water is the transporting agent for the 
pollen, instead of the commoner methods by insects or the wind. 


144 A. H. Graves, 


According to my own observations, which agree in the main 
with those of Roze (1894), the process of pollination takes place 
about as follows. Soon after the extension of the peduncle above 
the surface of the water, the anther sacs split open by a longitudinal 
cleft, and the pollen, shed in large yellowish masses, may be seen 
floating on the surface of the water. 

Immediately subsequent to the shedding of the pollen, the rhachis, 
which up to this time has been erect, commences to incline toward 
the surface of the water. It becomes more and more horizontal 
until eventually, after two or three hours, it comes to le on the 
surface of the water. 

In this position, the stigmas are of course so situated that the 
floating pollen grains, with which, in the height of the flowering 
season, the water is fairly well covered, have easy access to them. 
The final step occurs when the currents of water, always moving 
in one direction or another in a tidal ditch—or sometimes set in 
motion by gusts of wind—bring the pollen grains into contact with 
the stigmas. 

Wylie (1904), has described a similar mode of pollination in 
Elodea. He attributes the floating of the pollen-grains to the air 
imprisoned between the spines of the pollen-grain and the surface 
of the water, this being sufficient to keep the grain afloat. Pol- 
lination on the surface of the water also takes place in Vallisneria, 
as is well known. In Zostera, however (Strasburger, 1908, p. 258), 
pollination is performed below the surface of the water. 


FERTILIZATION 


No investigator has yet been able to demonstrate the process of 
fertilization in Ruppia. Murbeck (1902, p. 15) has, indeed, found 
the pollen tubes in the ovary; but has been unable to distinguish 
either of the sperm-nuclei in the embryo-sac. For various reasons, 
he concludes that the act of fertilization takes place very rapidly. 
If this is true, it may account for the fact that in my own prep- 
arations I also have been unable to find any unmistakable evidence 
of the sperm-nuclei. 

As is shown in Pl. X, figs. 62-66, a definite stylar canal exists 
from the stigma to the cavity of the ovary, but Murbeck (1902, 1. c.) 
claims that the pollen tubes, however, penetrate through the cellular 
structure of the style to the cavity of the ovary. 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 145 


ENDOSPERM 


The endosperm nucleus is large, and located near the antipodal 
end of the embryo-sac, or sometimes near the center. Just what 


nuclei enter into its formation was 
not ascertained, nor could I deter- 
mine whether or not in the matter 
of commencing division it has a 
slight advantage over the fertilized 
ege, as Murbeck (1902) declares is 
the case in Ruppia rostellata. 

The endosperm in its most fully 
developed stage (Text-fig. 27), is 
never more than a thin layer lining 
the embryo-sac and containing free 
nuclei. In the mature seed, traces 
of it may still be seen as a thin 
protoplasmic lining, with the nuclei 
now much reduced in size. Thus 
it is clear that the endosperm is 
here only temporary. The function 
of more lasting nourishing tissue is 
assumed by the enlarged hypocotyl. 
A similar development of endosperm 





Figure 27.— Portion of endosperm 

which lines embryo-sac, this par- 

ticular example being taken from 

the embryo-sac which contains 

the embryo shown in Pl. XIII, 
fig. 106. >< 575, 


appears in other Potamogetonaceae (Coulter and Chamberlain, 1903, 


pe 171): 


EMBRYO 


The fertilized egg divides transversely, producing al arge lower 
cell and small upper cell. As in Naias (Campbell, 1897, p. 26), 
Zannichellia (Campbell, |. c., pp. 27, 28), Zostera (Rosenberg, 1901, I; 
Hofmeister, 1852), and Potamogeton (Wiegand, 1900), the former 
divides no further, but subsequently increases vastly in size, develop- 
ing large vacuoles, and becomes the suspensor, which is thus in 
this case restricted to a single large, basal cell. 

I was unable to discover any stages between the two-celled pro- 
embryo and the twelve-celled stage—the latter represented in 
Pl. XIII, fig. 100. Murbeck, however, figures a three-celled stage 
in Ruppia rostellata, which I reproduce (Pl. XIII, fig. 98), showing 
two small cells, which may be called the “ embryo-cells,” arisen from 
the transverse division of the small upper cell; and also the basal 
large cell, namely, the suspensor-cell. Wille (1883) figures and 
also describes a similar stage in his work on the embryo of Ruppia 
rostellata. 

Wille has carefully followed the development of the proembryo 
in these early stages, and his observations and figures accord well 
with my slightly older embryos. His report of the succeeding 
divisions is briefly as follows: The lower of the two embryo-cells 
divides longitudinally, followed by a similar division in the same 
plane in the upper cell, making four cells in all; next, by longitudinal 
divisions in both segments, in a plane at right angles to the last, 
an eight-celled structure is formed. The embryo now consists, 
therefore, of two four-celled segments lying one over the other, 
and borne on a single large suspensor-cell (Pl. XIII, fig. 99.) 

It should be borne in mind that this suspensor cell is the basal 
segment resulting from the first division of the fertilized egg, and 
never again divides. In this connection it may be well to follow 
out the subsequent history of this peculiar suspensor before going 
into an account of the embryo proper. 

After the first unequal division in the fertilized egg-cell, the 
suspensor-cell becomes rapidly larger, and at the time when the 
two four-celled segments appear, as described above, it is much 
larger than these combined (PI. XIII, fig. 99). At the period shown 
in Fig. 100, when the embryo contains twelve cells, the suspensor- 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 147 


cell nucleus, with the majority of the cytoplasm, occupies a pos- 
ition at the base of the cell, the upper part containing one or 
more large vacuoles. This appearance, although not invariable (cf. 
fig. 101), seems a quite general one in the disposition of the cell- 
contents at all stages except the very earliest. The same has been 
noted in Zostera (Rosenberg, 1901, I, pp. 11, 12) and Potamogeton 
(Wiegand, 1900, p. 37). 

Although the suspensor-cell is now (PI. XIII, fig. 100) enormous 
in size, this is in fact only a stage in its enlargement. Fig. 101 
testifies to what proportions it eventually attains. At the same time 
its nucleus attains a large size. In somewhat later stages the sus- 
pensor-cell commences a’ gradual disintegration, until, at a period 
of embryo development, such as in fig. 106, the outlines of the cell 
can be no longer distinguished, although its nucleus is still apparent 
in a condition of disorganization. 

During its development, the suspensor-cell is in contact with the 
micropylar end of the embryo-sac for some time, but may eventually 
become free, as Wiegand (1900, pp. 37, 38) has also noted in 
Potamogeton. 

In connection with this remarkable growth, the statements of Rosen- 
berg (1901, I, p. 12), who describes a similar suspensor in Zostera, 
may be quoted. In writing of the nucleus of this cell he says: “Der 
Kern des Embryotragers .... macht eher den Eindruck, als ob in 
demselben eine rege Stoffbildung vor sich ginge; etwa eine Auf- 
nahme von Stoffen, die in dem Kern weiter umgebildet werden, 
um spater in das Embryo zu gelangen.” It might be added that 
not only the nucleus, but also the whole cell, judging from its ap- 
pearance and time and manner of development, has obviously the 
function of reception and preparation of nourishment for the embryo. 
It is significant also to note that at the time of the degeneration 
of this large suspensor-cell, the endosperm nuclei are relatively 
abundant. 

Although a similar large basal cell occurs in Naias (Campbell, 1897, 
p- 26), Zannichellia (Campbell, 1897, pp. 27, 48), Zostera (Rosen- 
berg, 1901, I, pp. 11, 12) and Potamogeton (Wiegand, 1900, p. 37), 
only in Zostera does it represent the entire suspensor as in Ruppia. 
In the remaining genera other small secondary suspensor-cells are 
formed above the large basal cell. 

It will be seen that the three-celled stage of the proembryo 
(Pl. XIH, fig. 98) is essentially similar to that of Sagittaria (Schaffner, 
1897, II, p. 262 and Pl. XXIV figures 46, 47) and Alisma (Schaffner, 
1896, pp. 129, 130), which has been regarded as typical of the 


148 A. H. Graves, 


monocotyledonous embryo (Coulter and Chamberlain, 1903, pp. 188, 
190 ff.). 

Instead of the increase of this row of cells from three to four, 
or, in other words, to a row of three embryo-cells, as is the case 
in the above-mentioned genera, Wille, as already stated, finds that 
two plates of four cells each are formed from the two embryo-cells. 
These two resulting four-celled segments are, nevertheless, still the 
representatives of the two small embryo-cells, which are formed 
first, in Ruppia as well as in Sagittaria and Alisma. 

That this condition is the usual one in Ruppia is shown not only 
by Wille’s (1883) observations, which may be correlated so well 
with my own, but also by the figures and description of Hofmeister 
(1852, p. 143 and figures 41-46, and 1861, figures 1—7, pl. ID). 

My twelve-celled embryo (Pl. XIII, fig. 100), composed of three 
four-celled plates, has obviously arisen by a transverse wall through 
one of these four-celled segments—which one, it is not possible to 
state. In the typical embryo of Sagittaria, indeed, it is the lower 
of the two segments that undergoes a transverse division (Schaffner, 
1897. II, p.262 and Pl. XXIV, figures 46, 48, 49), and this may be 
the case here. 3 

What has occurred then is simply the formation of three seg- 
ments, one above the other, comparable to the three upper cells in 
Sagittaria (Schaffner, 1897, H, Pl. XXIV, figures 48, 49), with the 
difference that in Ruppia longitudinal divisions precede the trans- 
verse ones. 

A comparison of this stage with those embryos of related genera 
which have been worked out, brings to light the following points. 
The embryos of Zannichellia (Campbell, 1897, p. 48 and cf. fig. 63 
Pl. UI; Hofmeister, 1861, Pl. I, fig. 18) and Potamogeton (Wiegand, 
1900, pp. 37, 38, and Pl. VII, figures 25, &c.) are essentially like 
that of the typical Sagittaria, consisting of a row of three cells 
above the suspensor-cell, the terminal one being the first to undergo 
longitudinal divisions. 

As to the embryo of Zostera, it was investigated at a very early 
period by Hofmeister (1852), and quite recently by Rosenberg 
(1901, I). Their results are not complete in the early stages, but 
enough has been shown to indicate that Zostera is more like Ruppia 
in the early development of its embryo than any of the Potamo- 
getonaceae so far investigated. Hofmeister (1852, p. 139) states that 





' Practically the same figures are presented in each of these articles: 
in the former, the species is given as rosted/ata, in the latter, as maritima. 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 149 


a four-celled embryo is formed from the first embryo-cell by two 
longitudinal divisions occurring at right angles to each other, and 
these quadrant-like cells are next each divided by a transverse wall. 
So that, although the divisions here occur in different sequence, 
the two four-celled segments nevertheless result. 

Although these first stages were not followed out by Rosenberg, 
he presents a figure (1901, I, Pl. I, fig. 20, and P. 12) of an eight- 
celled embryo similar to that of Wille’s (Pl. XIII, fig. 99). It is 
perhaps possible that later investigation will show that the first wall 
in Zostera is transverse instead of longitudinal, as Hofmeister has 
described it. 

The task of tracing out the lines of demarcation of the primary 
segments during the later stages, after the manner of recent embryo- 
logical investigations, is very difficult, probably from two principal 
causes. First, the remarkable number of early longitudinal divisions 
which have already been indicated to a certain extent obscure the 
segment limits. Second, the form of the mature embryo differs so 
widely from that of a typical monocotyledon that even in the early 
developmental stages this influence makes itself felt, and renders 
comparison with type forms rather unsatisfactory. Wille, indeed 
(1883, pp. 2, 3), describes his eight-celled stage as forming a 
sixteen celled structure by transverse divisions in all of the eight 
cells. But of the subsequent divisions he says (I. c., p. 3), ‘ Herefter 
gaa Delingerne uregelmessigt, saa man ikke lengere med Be- 
stemthed kan felge de enkelte Cellers Delinger.” 

Of stages older than the eight-celled embryo of Wille and Hof- 
meister, | was fortunate in having a fairly large number, and in 
the following description I shall attempt to show to what extent 
the segment boundaries may be traced during the embryo develop- 
ment, and how they may be correlated to such a type as Sagit- 
taria. 

I have already suggested that such an embryo as is represented 
in Pl. XIII, fig. 100, composed of twelve cells, or three four-celled 
segments, arises from Wille’s younger form by a transverse wall 
through one of the segments, and that this is parallel to the case in 
Sagittaria, where a three-celled row arises by a transverse division 
in the lower embryo-cell. 

Fig. 101 is a slightly older embryo, in which the divisions are 
somewhat irregular, but still admit of an interpretation which reveals 
the outlines of the cells and segments in the preceding stage. It 
is evident that a transverse division has occurred in the terminal 
Segment. 


150 A. H. Graves, 


In fig. 102 appears evidently the beginning of the formation of 
the dermatogen, at least in the terminal segment at the left. Fig. 
103 shows the segment lines more irregular, the dermatogen has 
became more pronounced, and in fig. 104 shows a distinct differ- 
entiation. A point of interest at this stage is the considerable in- 
crease in size of all the cells, which are, however, only shghtly 
greater in number than in fig. 103. The embryo here measures 
about 0.075 mm. in diameter, as against the 0.05 mm. of the pre- 
ceding one. 

Up to this point the embryo has exhibited a globular form, but 
in fig. 105, where it measures about 0.085 mm. it has commenced 
to elongate. It is at this period that the divisions are initiated in 
the terminal segment, appearing here at the left, which signalize 
the approach of cotyledonary development. 

It has been shown by Schaffner (1897, II, pp. 263-265) in Sagit- 
taria that of the proembryo of three cells, the uppermost develops 
the cotyledon, the middle divides transversely, and of the two result- 
ing segments the upper develops the stem apex and the lower the 
hypocotyl, root, and secondary suspensor. The lowest cell of the 
three-celled proembryo remains undivided, forming the basal sus- 
pensor-cell, 

Obviously the primary segments in Ruppia do not all have des- 
tinies similar to those of Sagittaria. For, to begin with, no second- 
ary suspensor is here found, and only a minute rudimentary root, 
as will be shown later. Again, it seems quite probable, although 
for the reasons stated above no conclusions can be certainly drawn, 
that the terminal segment produces the stem-apex as well as the 
cotyledon. Campbell (1897, p. 49) finds such a condition in Zanni- 
chellia, and the appearances shown in fig. 106 point to such a 
situation here. Solms-Laubach (1878), as noted by Campbell, has 
also reported a terminal origin of the stem-apex in some of the 
Commelinaceae and Dioscoreaceae. This leaves the second segment 
(which, as has already been indicated, probably divides transversely 
to form the second and third segments, as in Sagittaria) for the 
development of the hypocotyl, extraordinarily large in Ruppia, and 
the small rudimentary root adjacent to the suspensor-cell. 

Pl. XIII, fig. 105, however, represents the oldest embryo in which 
the primary segments can be determined with accuracy. In the 
next figure (fig. 106), it is quite impossible to make out definitely 
the line separating the terminal segment from the rest of the 
embryo, to say nothing of any other segment-lines. Nevertheless, 
in this embryo, cell divisions are active in the terminal region 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 151 


and one can easily see a small prominence (fig. 106, cot), accompanied 
interiorly by a number of cell-divisions, which is obviously the be- 
ginning of the cotyledon. Moreover, at its right is another markedly 
meristematic region, the future stem apex or epicotyl (fig. 106, sé). 

Wille’s description of the subsequent development up to the 
mature embryo agrees essentially with my slides, so that I confirm 
his observations in the main, adding a few details. For the sake 
of clearness, each member will be described separately. 


The Cotyledon. Originating as described above, the cotyledon elon- 
gates and the epicotyl develops at its base. In the course ofits growth, 
the cotyledon develops basal sheaths similar to those characteristic of 
the leaves of a mature plant, which then surround the epicotyl. 
Concerning this condition Wille (1883, pp. 3, 4) says, “Hos den 
modne Frugt er Plumulaen ganske omgiven af Cotyledonet (Tavl. 
I, fig. 25), kun en trang Spalte ferer ind til Hulen,” but figures an 
embryo with a large open hollow at the base of the cotyledon, 
where the epicotyl may be seen. As a matter of fact, in Ruppia 
maritima at least, the cotyledonary sheaths overlap one another 
for almost the whole of their length, essentially as do the sheaths 
of the foliage leaves (Pl. XV, fig. 118). Only at the upper end of 
these sheaths is there a small cleft remaining (Fig. 118, x) which 
may be the “trang Spalte” mentioned by Wille. Thus the sheaths 
enclose the epicotyl so that it is quite shut off from view. In 
Pl. XIV, fig. 112, and Pl. XV, fig. 116 these sheaths appear in 
section in not quite mature embryos, and figures 117 and 118 show 
them in a cotyledon dissected from a mature embryo. It is inter- 
esting to note that the axillary scales may be seen within the sheaths, 
at their base, as in the mature plant. 

Wille (1883, Pl. I, fig. 25) figures the cotyledon as elevated a 
considerable distance above the hypocotyl, although still extend- 
ing more or less horizontally, and one might conclude that pos- 
sibly herein is a specific difference between Ruppia rostellata and 
Rk. maritima, were it not for the fact that Irmisch (1858, fig. 37, 
pl. I) figures the cotyledon closely appressed to the hypocotyl as 
I find it in FR. maritima (Pl. XV, tig. 119). In Text-fig. 28, p. 152, 
this horizontal position has been slightly disturbed through manip- 
ulation. 


The Epicotyl. Pl. XIV, fig. 112 shows the epicotyl in a nearly 
mature embryo. It consists always of a second leaf and the growing 
point, the latter not appearing as prominently here as in other sections. 
Wille (1883, p. 3, figs. 25 and 26) is in doubt whether this smaller pro- 


152 A. H. Graves, 


tuberance is really the growing point or the third leaf, but a com- 
parison with the growing point of the mature stem (PI. I, fig. 1; 
Text-fig. 2, p. 75) conclusively proves its nature. 


The Hypocotyl. The great bulk of the embryo is taken up by the 
hypocotyl (Pl. XV, fig. 119, Text-tig. 28), which is nothing but a 
mass of storage tissue, its cells being gorged with large starch grains. 
Even in such a young stage as in Pl. XIII, fig. 105, the cells in 
this region are distinctly larger than in the remainder of the embryo. 
They continue their enlargement and acquire an ever richer content 
of starch as development proceeds (cf. Pl. XII, figs. 105, 106; Pl. XIV, 
figs. 1140-112, 144; Pl. XV, fig. 115). 


—-—-hyp 


Figure 28.— Mature embryo dissected from ripe seed, the cotyledon slightly 
elevated during manipulation. cot, cotyledon ; efc, region of epicotyl; adr, 
adventitious root; 4vf, hypocotyl. >< 35. 

The Primary Root. At a fairly early period (Pl. XIII, fig. 106 ; Pl. XIV, 
fig. 110) a certain group of cells becomes differentiated at the base of 
the embryo, by acquiring denser contents and lacking the starch grains 
of the storage cells above them. Each of these cells later develops 
(at least those on the periphery of the embryo) into unicellular 
papilla-like projections, essentially as figured and described by 
Wille (1883, p. 4 and Pl. I, fig. 19) and Murbeck (1902, pp. 17, 18 
and figs. 60b, 61 b). Like Murbeck, I find also often more than 
a single layer, but whether arising from periclinal divisions in the 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 153 


dermatogen, as he asserts, I was not able to determine. The whole 
group is supposed to represent the vestiges of the primary root 
(Murbeck, 1902, p. 18; Wille, 1883, p. 4), which develops only to 
this rudimentary degree, and never functions. 


The First Adventitious Root. At about the period when the coty- 
ledon and epicotyl have become quite distinct in outline, the form- 
ation of an adventitious root occurs near the base of the epicotyl. 
This grows rapidly, forming a noticeable protuberance (Pl. XIV, 
figs. 112, 113), and in the mature embryo (Text-fig. 28) may be 
seen pointing almost directly upward, or nearly at right angles to 
the position of the cotyledon. 

The distribution of the meristematic regions at the tip of this 
adventitious root is not as clearly marked as in the roots of the 
mature plant. It will be recalled that the roots of the mature plant, 
as in Zannichellia, contain at their tip four distinct meristematic 
regions, representing the initial areas of calyptrogen, dermatogen, 
periblem and plerome. 

In the young adventitious root of the embryo an interesting point 
is the division of the epidermis of the hypocotyl, immediately over 
the young developing root, by 
periclinal walls, apparently to 
form root cap. These divisions 
continue, and anticlinal as well 
as periclinal occur. This isa very 
different condition from that in 
the roots of the mature plant. 

Whether the dermatogen and 
periblem are each also here re- 
presented by a single layer at the 
apex of the growing-point would 
be impossible to assert definitely, 
on account of the irregularity of 
the cells, but such seems to be 
often the case (Text-fig. 29). How- 





Figure 29.— Longitudinal section 
through apex of adventitious root of 
ever, some embryos show only nearly mature embryo; showing p/, 


one layer for both dermatogen plerome, d, dermatogen, and periclinal 
= divisions initiating development of 


and plerome. as Campbell finds calyptrogen, cal. >< 530 

most usual in the primary root 

of Zannichellia (Campbell, 1897, p. 51). The plerome is pretty 
clearly marked (Text-fig. 29), but also does not have as definite a 
point of origin as in the roots of the mature plant. 


154 A. H. Graves, 


The mature embryos of Ruppia maritima measure 1.5—2 mm. in 
length, by a little more than 1 mm. in width. Although I find no 
measurements recorded of the embryos of FR. roste/lata, Irmisch’s 
figure (1858, fig. 37, Taf. I) is somewhat longer in proportion to 
its width, 

Murbeck (1902, p. 18 and PI. III, figs. 62, 64, and 65) has called 
attention to the resemblance of this curious embryo of Ruppia to 
those of the related genera, Zannichellia, Halophila and Zostera. 
The embryo of Phyllospadix is similar, but characterized by a 
peculiar lobing of the hypocotyl around the base of the cotyledon 
(Dudley 1893, p. 443 and PL. II, fig. H). 

To the well known controversy regarding the real nature of the 
adventitious root and of the primary root, I will briefly allude and 
record my own views here. 

In writing of the Potamogetonaceae, Ascherson (1889, p. 200) 
says, “Meist entwickelt sich eine kraftige Hauptwurzel an dem 
unteren Ende des Embryos; nur bei Ruppia befindet sich dieselbe 
seitlich neben der Plumula.” 

Thus Ascherson, whose view has been adopted by Goebel (1898, 
pp. 464-466), rejects the conclusions of Wille, who found the 
peculiar cell-group developed in &. rostellata, which I have also 
reported for A. maritima, at the base of the hypocotyl and im- 
mediately over the large suspensor-cell. This basal region is, as 
Wille says, the place for the primary root of the embryo. Wille, 
therefore, considers this the rudiment of the primary root, and the 
structure near the base of the plumule, which Ascherson calls the 
primary root, he terms an adventitious root. 

Murbeck agrees with Wille and in further investigations finds 
that the primary root rudiment “sich eben am Festpunkte des 
Embryos, mit anderen Worten, eben am Platze der Radicula be- 
findet. Dass dieselbe wirklich die Anlage der Radicula reprdsentiert, 
kann wohl schwerlich bezweifelt werden” (1902, p. 17). 

That the adventitious root is of exogenous origin is explained 
by Wille (1883, p. 5) and defended by Murbeck (l.c. p. 18) by the 
fact that practically all of the cells of the young embryo are mer- 
istematic, so that an adventitious root developing at this period may 
easily have an exogenous origin. 

My own slides testify to the correctness of the interpretations and 
figures of Wille and Murbeck. Nowhere is there the least evidence 
that the hypocotyl is the “seitliche Auftreibung” described by 
Ascherson, and there seems no doubt but that the root near the 
base of the epicotyl is properly the first adventitious root, which 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 155 


has assumed the function of the primary root of the embryo. Such 
an adventitious root, we have seen, may occur in a similar way at 
any node in the mature plant, just below the point of leaf-insertion. 

Just what the group of cells at the base of the hypocotyl 
does represent is difficult to say definitely. Murbeck thinks that 
they may represent calyptrogen and calyptra (1902, p. 18). This 
is, of course, possible, but it would be difficult to prove. We may 
be sure of this much, however, that from their position, appearance, 
and development, they bear some relation to the now functionless 
primary root. 

Another interpretation of this whole thickened hypocotyl with 
its curious basal cells seems plausible, namely, that practically the 
whole swollen area itself represents the primary root or radicle 
which has been by degrees metamorphosed into a storage-organ. 
That this is actually what has happened would be difficult to prove, 
for it is dangerous to lay much stress on the form and position of 
the storage organs. The strongest grounds for such an opinion are 
drawn from a comparative morphological study. The embryo of 
Zannichellia, e. g., is very similar to that of Ruppia. Although 
Wille considers (1883, p. 7) that the small caplike body at the base 
of the hypocotyl comprises the entire root, Campbell's figures and 
description (1897, pp. 50, 51 and PI V, figures 120, 122, 123) go 
to show that practically the whole thypocotyl is a root structure 
and the small body at its base is the root cap. 

In Zannichellia the primary root functions for a time during ger- 
mination (Wille, 1883, p. 8). The absence of a distinct plerome 
and periblem in what has been called the hypocotyl of Ruppia may 
be accounted for by the degeneration of this tissue, its assumption 
of the function of storage, and the transfer of its] functioning power 
as a root to the adventitious root. 


Trans. Conn. Acap., Vol. XIV. iB Decemper, 1908. 


FRUIT AND SEED 


Pl. IV, fig. 13 shows a cluster of mature fruits, and, as may be 
seen, the form varies somewhat, but is always bluntly pointed at 
the apex, with a one-sided base, the whole being slightly oblique 
with respect to the axis of the stipe. At the maturity of the fruit, 
the stigma generally drops off, leaving the blunt apex shown in the 
figure. 





Figure 30.—Section through ovary wall Figure 31.—Two ripe achenes, 

of ripe fruit, showing the three inner- after disintegration of the outer 

most hardened layers, which form the soft parts of the fruit covering ; 

covering of the seed, and the outer showing the pronounced beaks. 
soft parts. >< 210. SSpabe 


During the development of the seed, changes occur in the wall 
of the ovary, the most important of which is the thickening of the cell- 
walls of portions contiguous to the seed, with the result that this 
inner layer of the ovary-wall becomes quite hard. This hardened 
portion is limited to about three layers of cells. Outside of this 
hard layer are about five or six layers of thin-walled cells, copiously 
supplied with starch, and these, in turn, are bounded by the epi- 
dermis, also rich in starch (Text-fig. 30). 


eS 


's_. — 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 157 


The ripened fruit has a greater specific gravity than water, which 
one can easily demonstrate by breaking off the fruit from the stipe. 
It then sinks immediately to the bottom, and, in most cases, probably 
passes the winter embedded in the mud. Under such conditions, 
the outer soft parts of the fruit-covering soon decay, leaving the 
inner thickened portion of the ovary-wall which surrounds the seed. 
Since this area extends up into the stylar canal, the result is an 
appearance as in Text-fig. 31. At the end is a long beak, derived 
from the stylar region. Such a structure is accordingly an achene, 
its outer layer being hard, dry and indehiscent, and derived from 
the ovary. 

A prominent beak is supposed to be a specific character of Ruppia 
rostellata. But a comparison with the figures of Irmisch (1858) of 
R. rostellata demonstrates that the beak represented there is not 
any longer than that of my specimens, although of a slightly 
different shape. 

A similar development of fruit and seed is indicated by Campbell 
(4897) in Zannichellia, where a seed is formed surrounded by; a 
pericarp from the ovary-wall. Such achenes are also well known 
to occur in the grasses. 


SEEDLING 


Germination. A considerable number of seeds were germinated 
in the laboratory. Seeds gathered in October, at the end of the 
flowering season, first began to germinate in December, and from 
that time on seedlings appeared intermittently. It is evident, there- 
fore, that the seed requires a short period of rest before the new 
growth begins. 

Seedlings were grown either in mud from their native habitat, 
or in clean-washed sand, the latter being preferable, on account 
of the numerous algae, bacteria, &c. which soon develop in the 
former. The salt water used was taken from New Haven Harbor. 

Irmisch (1858) noticed in the achene of Ruppia rostellata a small, 
slightly swollen, elongated area which he claimed was the place of 
exit for the cotyledon and root on germination. Such a spot occurs 
also in Ruppia maritima, but | have been unable to ascertain def- 
initely if this is the region which is ruptured at germination. In 
most cases a more or less triangular area of the hard, dark-brown 
covering is pushed off and the cotyledon and adventitious root 
make their appearance (PI. XV, fig. 120). In figure 121 the whole 
pericarp has been purposely removed to show the enormous hypo- 
cotyl. 

Figure 120 shows a seedling about three days old. Here the 
three vegetative organs are disclosed: the first foliage leaf is devel- 
oped from the cotyledon, which becomes green; the stem is formed 
by the elongation of the hypocotyl; and the root grows rapidly 
downward, becoming abundantly furnished with root-hairs. 

In the case of the root, it is interesting to note that it exhibits 
a general tendency to first grow upwards for a short time, only 
later turning downward. The proportional growth of roots and 
leaves seems to vary considerably (Pl. XV, figs. 120, 121). 


Formation of Rootstock. Text-figs. 32 and 33 are drawings— 
natural size—of seedlings grown in the laboratory in washed sand 
and harbor water. The seeds were collected in January, being 
extracted from mud taken from the bottom of a ditch where Ruppia 
maritima grows and fruits abundantly, many of the parent plants 
being even at that time in a green, flourishing condition. On 
being placed in a warm room, germination occurred in a few days. 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 159 


During their growth the young plants showed very clearly the 
manner in which the horizontal rootstock is developed. At first 
the seedling is erect, but soon, as it increases in length, reclines 








Figure 32.—Young seedling, show- Figure 33.— Young seedling, older 
ing development of horizontal root- than preceding one, showing more 
stock. J/r, /2, 23, &c., successively advanced development of horizontal 
older leaves; rz, 72, 73, &c., suc- rootstock. Abbreviations as in pre- 
cessively older adventitious roots. vious figure. 4 natural size. 


5 natural size 


somewhat, and at the same time an adventitious root (Text-fig. 32, 71) 
appears at the first node and grows downward, fixing itself in the 
soil or sand. This is repeated at successive nodes, the shoot re- 
clining more and more, and Text-fig. 32 shows an advanced stage 
where five adventitious roots have been developed, and a sixth (7%) 
is just appearing. Three days after the drawing was made, this 
sixth root had reached the surface of the sand. In this figure the 
roots have almost the appearance of drawing down the stem to a 
horizontal position. Whether or not this is actually the case, a 
horizontal location is ultimately attained, as in Text-fig. 33. Here, 
indeed, the first roots have apparently drawn the oldest part of the 
seedling well down into the sand. 

From this time on the seedling assumes the habit of the mature 
plant. From the nodes upright shoots may arise, which may also 
develop later in the same way into root stocks, thus forming a 
branched rootstock; or it is conceivable that these upright shoots 
may continue in an erect position, ultimately reaching the surface 
of the water and flowering. 


160 A. H. Graves, 


The anatomy of the seedling corresponds in the main to that of 
the mature plant. The central vascular area in the stem is thus 
essentially the same as in the older plant, so that no ancestral 
characters were detected in the vascular system in this young stage. 


SUMMARY OF PARTS 
ON REPRODUCTIVE ORGANS, EMBRYO, &c. 


Flower. The inflorescence is spadix-like, and even a small spathe 
is present, the latter structure having almost entirely escaped the 
notice of investigators. 

The small scaly outgrowths from! the anther-connective probably 
represent reduced floral leaves, judging from the analogy of Pota- 
mogeton, and from the fact that the flower of Ruppia is evidently 
a reduced one. 

The two flowers of the spadix arise laterally from the vegetative 
cone; they develop practically together in point of time, and the 
anthers precede the pistils in development. 


Microsporangium. Appearances indicate that the archesporial 
initials in the microsporangium are a comparatively large group of 
cells which originate simultaneously both in plerome and periblem. 

A plate of sporogenous cells becomes differentiated to form the 
future septum dividing the two sacs of the theca. 

The tapetum is evidently derived from the sporogenous cells. 

The sporophytic number of chromosomes was definitely ascer- 
tained to be sixteen. 


Megasporangium. The megasporangium arises from a hypo- 
dermal cell in the usual way. Generally one layer of parietal cells 
is formed. 

An interesting case was found of two megaspore mother-cells in 
one megasporangium, a condition little known among monocotyle- 
dons. 


Female Gametophyte. Eight chromosomes appear in the first 
reduction division, and probably in the succeeding ones. 

A double megaspore mother-cell was found, which had in each 
case divided into two daughter-cells. 

The four potential megaspores are oriented in such a way that 
the two outer cells are in contact with the third cell, but separated 
by it from the innermost cell. 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 164 


The embryo-sac develops in the usual way and always from the 
innermost potential megaspore, the outer ones becoming resorbed. 
The antipodal cells are surrounded by cytoplasm and a thin mem- 
brane, and are always three in number. No further divisions among 
_ them were observed. 


Male Gametophyte. The tetrads are oriented to each other like 
the four quadrants of a sphere. 

Eight chromosomes appear in the reduction-division. 

The generative cell is formed very early in the development, at 
the end of the young pollen-grain. No membrane now or later 
separates it from the rest of the grain. 

When the grain has nearly reached maturity, the generative cell 
divides, the two resulting male cells remaining united. 

The mature pollen-grain is of peculiar shape, but similar forms 
occur in other Potamogetonaceae. 

The wall of the pollen-grain is formed inside of the walls of the 
tetrads, these latter walls becoming apparently dissolved. 

The wall is never of more than a single layer. The thickenings 
on its exterior appear to be the result of depositions. At certain 
regions these depositions are omitted, and these spots are probably 
the places where the pollen-tube may commence its formation. 


Pollination. Pollination is accomplished by means of water, an 
unusual method. 


Endosperm. The endosperm is scanty, never more than a thin 
layer lining the embryo-sac, and containing free nuclei. 


Embryo. The suspensor is limited to a single large cell, which 
later develops to an enormous size. 

The embryo evidently develops from two or three primary seg- 
ments as in the typical monocotyledonous embryo. 

An unusual state of affairs exists, however, in the large number 
of early longitudinal divisions. 

Apparently both cotyledon and stem-apex arise from the terminal 
segment as in Zannichellia, but this cannot be definitely proved, on 
account of the obscurity of the segment boundaries. 

The two lower segments form hypocotyl, adventitious root, and 
primary root. 

I agree with Murbeck in locating the vestiges of the primary root 
at the base of the enlarged hypocotyl. 

Another possible interpretation is that practically the whole 
swollen area is a root, metamorphosed into a storage organ. 


162 A. H. Graves, 


Seed and Fruit. The fruit is an achene, the hard coat being 
derived from the inner portion of the ovary wall. 


Seedling. At germination the cotyledon develops chlorophyll, 
and the adventitious root of the embryo is the first functioning 
root. 

At first the young seedling is upright, but very soon a horizontal 
root-stock is developed. 


SUMMARY. OF RELATIONSHIPS TO OTHER 
POTAMOGETONACEAE. 


On account of the incomplete knowledge we have at present of 
the members of the Potamogetonaceae, a thorough comparison with 
them in all points of gross morphology and of anatomy is of 
course impossible. In the course of this paper I have from time 
to time alluded to the points of likeness and difference with re- 
spect to the remaining Potamogetonaceae, as far as I have been 
able to glean such from the various articles cited. It is my pur- 
pose now to briefly review these here, touching upon the various 
characters in the order pursued in my paper. 

As regards the methods of branching, Cymodocea, Phyllospadix, 
and Zostera most resemble Ruppia, with a monopodial system in 
the rootstock and its branches, and a sympodial inflorescent system. 

In stem anatomy, perhaps Potamogeton pectinatus and Zostera 
marina resemble Ruppia most closely, while Zannichellia and Althenia 
are also very similar in all respects except that they lack the cor- 
tical bundles. The evidence here seems to point to the conclu- 
sion that Zostera and Potamogeton are more primitive genera, 
while, on the other hand, Zannichellia and Althenia are more re- 
duced, with Ruppia somewhere between. 

The leaf of Ruppia shows a great similarity in external form 
to certain species of Potamogeton and to Zannichellia and Althenia. 
I do not find the secretion cells of the leaf—or indeed of any 
part of the plant—reported for any but Cymodocea. Posidonia, and 
Halodule, besides Ruppia. In other points of anatomy, however, 
the leaf of Potamogeton pectinatus is very similar, while the leaves 
of Zannichellia and Althenia show a strong resemblance, but with 
absence of the lateral bundles. The natural conclusion based on 
this evidence is, as stated before, that Ruppia is descended from 
some form similar to the present submerged Potamogetons, and 
also that Zannichellia and Althenia are still further reduced. 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 163 


In the root system, although Ruppia has usually only one root 
at each node, Zannichellia and Althenia have two, and the Pota- 
mogetons several, even Potamogeton pectinatus developing four 
or more (Irmisch, 1858). In Zostera and Phyllospadix a cluster of 
roots occurs at the nodes. The coleorrhiza has been reported in 
Potamogeton, Zannichellia, and Cymodocea, and probably occurs 
also in Althenia and Zostera. In the root anatomy, Potamogeton 
pectinatus, Zannichellia and Althenia correspond closely with Rup- 
pia, as is the case in the other vegetative organs, Zannichellia 
showing the four distinct meristematic regions at the growing-point 
as in Ruppia. 

Passing to the reproductive organs, where, owing to our lack of 
information, the comparison is most unsatisfactory, we have seen 
that the inflorescence is spadix-like, resembling Potamogeton and 
Zostera, and that the flowers themselves are apparently reduced 
from some form lke Potamogeton. 

The archesporium of the microsporangium probably arises in 
Zannichellia in much the same way as in Ruppia, i. e., originating 
simultaneously from a large group of cells. Only one species of 
Potamogeton has been investigated on this point, and here the 
archesporium is traceable to a single hypodermal cell. Like Ruppia, 
Zostera also derives tapetum from the outer sporogenous cells, but 
Potamogeton foliosus differentiates it from the wall. 

Parietal tissue exhibits a much greater development in the mega- 
sporangium of Potamogeton than in Ruppia, and in this respect 
Zannichellia probably more closely resembles Ruppia. This con- 
sideration again points to Potamogeton as the more primitive form. 
In Potamogeton natans (p. 138) an arrangement of the potential 
megaspores has been found such as occurs in Ruppia. 

The pollen-grains of Zannichellia and Potamogeton are more or 
less globular, those of Ruppia somewhat elongated, while those of 
Zostera and Phyllospadix have attained extreme length so that 
they might be termed filamentous. These differences depend pre- 
sumably on the different modes of pollination prevailing among 
these genera. 

More than any other member of the Potamogetonacee so far in- 
vestigated, the embryo of Zostera has points in common with Ruppia 
in the manner of its development, and, as is the case with the 
mature embryo of Zannichellia, resembles it in its mature form. 
The primary root of Zostera, however, functions for a time during 
germination. 

It will be seen from these considerations that, on the whole, 


164 A. H. Graves, The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 


Ruppia is closer to Potamogeton, Zannichellia, and Althenia than to 
any others of the Potamogetonaceae, especially with regard to the 
vegetative organs; and yet, in its embryo, it most strongly resem- 
bles Zostera. Similarities in the vascular structure of the vegetative 
organs are looked upon generally as comparatively fixed indications 
of relationship; so that in this case the evidence points to Ruppia 
as being derived from some form similar to the present submerged 
Potamogetons, with Zannichellia and Althenia serving as examples 
of still further reduction. 





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10. 


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12. 


13. 


14. 


15. 


16. 


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1S: 


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81. 1879. Die Angiospermen und die Gymnospermen. Jena. 

82. —— 1882. Uber den Bau und das Wachstum der Zellhaute. 
Jena. 











169 


85. 


86. 


95. 


97. 


98. 


The Morphology of Ruppia Maritima. 


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Histol. Beitr. 2. Jena. 

1891. Uber den Bau und die Verrichtungen der Leitungs- 
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SrrRaspurGER, Nout, ScHenck u. Karsten, 1908. Lehrbuch der Botanik. 
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Treus, M., 1876. Le Méristeme primitif de la Racine dans les Mono- 
cotylédones. Leyden. 








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37: 1-22. pls. 1-4. 


EXPLANATION JOP “PLATES 


Abbreviations. A & B, primary segments of embryo; adr, adven- 
titious root; af, antipodal cells; a@s, axillary scale; ax, axillary 
member; ax, axial bundle; ax by, axillary branch; C, third segment 
of embryo; c, cortex; cal, calyptrogen; cd, cortical bundle; ¢c, com- 
panion cell; co/, coleorrhiza; cov, connective; cot, cotyledon; d, der- 
matogen; di, diaphragm; e, egg; ems, embryo-sac; end, endodermis ; 
ep, epidermis; epc. epicotyl; /fZ, flower; fs/, floral scale leaf; gen 
generative cell; GP or ep, growing point; hyp, hypocotyl; 7, inter- 
cellular space; 7c, inner cortex; /a, lacuna; L or /, leaf; /6, lateral 
bundle ; /ow. sf/, lower subfloral leaf; /pm, lower polar nucleus; ma, 
male cells; mc, middle cortex; oc, outer cortex; pa, parietal layer or 
layers; pd, periblem; ped, peduncle; fist, pistil; p/, plerome; pm, 
pollen mother-cells; 7, primary root cells; 7, root; rh, root hairs; 
rha, rhachis; rs, root stock; s, sieve tube; se, secretion cells; sf/, 
subfloral leaf; sg, starch-grains; sh, sheath; spo, sporogenous cells; 
spt, septum; sf, stem or stem apex; sf¢a, stamen; sfc, stylar canal; 
sig, stigma; sti, stipe; sus, suspensor; syn, synergidae, ¢a, tapetum; 
th, theca; ¢m, tube nucleus; tra, tracheae; ¢r7, trichoblasts; u, un- 
dulations; “fm, upper polar nucleus; wp. sfl, upper subfloral leaf; 
ust, upright stem; vs/, vegetative scale leaf. 


THE NEW YORK 
ACADEMY OF SCIENCES. 


TRANSACTIONS OF THE 


CONNECTICUT ACADEMY OF ARTS AND SCIENCES 


INCORPORATED A. D. 1799 


VOLUME 14, PAGES 171-236 JANUARY, 1909 





Supplement to the 
New England Spiders 


BY 


J. H. EMERTON 


PUBLISHED UNDER THE AUSPICES OF 


YALE UNIVERSITY 





NEW HAVEN, CONNECTICUT 
1909 





ITI.—SuprLeMENT TO THE NEW ENGLAND SPIDERS 


BY J. H. Emerton. 


From 1882 to 1892 the writer published in the Transactions of 
the Connecticut Academy a series of papers containing descriptions 
and figures of New England Spiders known to him at that time. 
The present paper contains additional notes, descriptions, and figures 
of 48 of these species, partial descriptions, figures and references 
to descriptions of 38 species described by other persons since 1882, 
and descriptions and figures of 35 apparently new species. | 

The portion of New England explored is still chiefly eastern 
Massachusetts and New Hampshire as far north as the White Moun- 
tains. In Maine there have been collections on the coast at Port- 
land and Monhegan, and in the north at Bangor and around Moose- 
head Lake. Explorations in Canada show the extension northward 
and westward of many Maine and White Mountain species, as 
Theridium zelotypum to Manitoba, and LEpetra patagiata and an- 
gulata to the Pacific coast, and Epeira carbonaria and Lycosa green- 
landica in the Rocky Mountains and Labrador. In the south there 
have been large collections in Connecticut at Simsbury near Hart- 
ford, and at New Haven on the coast, and in Rhode Island near 
Providence. 

The distribution of several species has been made clear by col- 
lections on Long Island, N. Y., which is the northern limit of Oxy- 
opes salticus, Pellenes cacatus, and Epeira verrucosa, and where 
the following species are found in abundance, that extend northward 
only as far as Connecticut; Lycosa scutulata, Acrosoma rugosa 
and Argyrodes cancellatus. In the western part of Massachusetts, 
Connecticut, and Vermont but little has been done, but small col- 
lections in the Adirondacks and the observations of Mr. Banks 
around Ithaca, N. Y., show only slight differences from the spider 
fauna of New England. 

The writer has depended chiefly on his own collections, but gives 
his thanks to G. W. Peckham, Nathan Banks and Miss E. B. Bryant 
for the use of their specimens and constant help of all kinds. 

For references to publications of New England Spiders, the reader 
is referred to Miss Bryant’s list of. New England Spiders lately 
published by the Boston Society of Natural History. 


174 J. H. Emerton, 


Among the Epeiride, Zilla atrica is the only additional species 
found since the publication of New England Epeiride in 1884, but 
the males of the following species are described: FE. corticarta 
E. Nordmann, E. junipert, E. thaddeus. 

The separation of the Theridide and Linyphiade as two distinct 
families seems to me an improvement, and I have adopted it in 
this paper, but not the union of the Limyphiade and Epeiride 
into one family, which obscures the marked differences between 
these two groups. Between certain genera of these families the 
family differences are hard to define, but the same is true of the 
differences between genera of the Theridide and Linyphiade. 

The Linyphiade are divided naturally into two subfamilies— 
Linyphiee and Erigonee, the former containing the larger long- 
legged forms, and the latter the smaller forms with short legs and 
short spines. The genus Microneta in the Linyphiew resembles in 
its form the ELrigonee, and its species are hard to distinguish from 
those of Zmeticus. The most typical species are varia, cornupalpts 
and discolor. Microneta (Bathyphantes) d:hamatus belongs to this 
genus rather than Bathyphantes. Two new species are described 
and new specimens have been examined of all the old species 
except crassimanus, furcata, longibulbus and olivacea. 

In the Linyphiew the principal additions are Linyphia maculata, 
which has been found sparingly in many different localities and 
described by Banks as L. conferta Hentz, and Tapinopa bitineata 
Banks, which has been found singly in several localities. 

In the Erigonew more than in any other group, new species are 
frequently found, and our descriptions are often. made from one or 
a few individuals. They live for the most part near the ground, 
hidden in moss and leaves, only small quantities of which can be 
closely examined, and so little is known about their species and 
distribution. In their classification they offer many difficulties. Their 
small size makes their comparison inconvenient, and their uniformity 
in form and color makes it hard to define their differences. The 
only characters easy to see and describe are those of the adult 
males—the organs on the ends of the palpi and the modifications 
of the head. In consequence of these difficulties, the published 
classifications consist of a number of ill-defined genera, which have 
been formed from time to time, as new species were discovered, 
and the relations of which among themselves have never been 
satisfactorily explained. In the New England Theridide I used a 
classification based upon the genera of Menge in the Spiders of 
Prussia, and in the present paper follow substantially the same, be- 


Supplement to the New England Spiders. 175 


cause it seems to me to show as well as any other the natural 
relations of the species which I have been studying. 

At the beginning of the series come two species which | have 
described in N. E. Therididae under the name of Pholcomma at 
the end of the 7heridide. P. hirsuta belongs to a genus near Phol- 
comma, which Simon in Hist. Nat. Araigneées has named An- 
cyllorhanis. It has small mandibles and the pointed maxille and 
the simple male palpi of the 7heridide. P. rostrata belongs to 
quite a different genus, which Simon has called Histagonia, and 
I have adopted without having seen /7. deserticola, the type species 
Another species of the same genus is the Exechophysis palustris 
Banks. Histagonia seems to me most nearly related to. Diplo- 
cephalus rather than to Pholcomma. The mandibles and maxille 
are like the Erigonew rather than the Theridid@, and the modi- 
fications of the head and complicated form of the tibia of the male 
palpi resemble those of Diplocephalus. The tarsal hook is present, 
though small, as it is in Diplocephalus. 

The new genus Caseola with two species herbicola and alticeps 
resembles in form and habits Ceratinella, but does not have hard 
pieces on the back and at the base of the abdomen, nor any of 
the orange color of Ceratinella. The male palpi are simple in both 
species, with a peculiar club-shaped process of the palpal organ 
directed toward the inner side. 

Ceratinella consists of small round spiders, orange-colored or 
orange brown, with a hard plate on the back of the abdomen in 
one sex or both. The palpi of the males vary in length, but are 
all on the same plan, with the palpal organ furnished with a long 
slender tube turned backward from the distal end of the tarsus 
toward the base. I consider this genus to include the European 
C. brevis and the American species which Simon separates as the 
genus Ceraticelus, the principal difference being in the sinuous claw 
of the mandible of C. brevis. Ceratinopsis consists also of small 
and brightly colored spiders with usually distinct black markings 
on the head and sometimes on the palpi and feet. The palpi 
resemble those of Ceratinella, with large and more variable tibie. 
There are no hard plates on the abdomen. 

Cornicularia includes species resembling Ceratinopsis, but with 
usually more elongated cephalothorax, and in the males a horn on 
the front of the head between the upper and lower middle eyes. 
The male palpi have the tibia enlarged and extended over the back 
of the tarsus in a long flat process, partly divided into two branches. 
I include those species which have a double horn on the head, 


176 J. H. Emerton, 


which Simon refers to Prosopotheca, and also, as suggested by 
Simon, Spiropalpus spiralis which, though its male has no horns, 
resembles this genus. 

Grammonata includes, besides the three species before described, 
Erigonoplus gigas Banks, which has lately been found in Massa- 
chusetts. All the species resemble Amaurobius in form and mark- 
ings, having an indistinct pattern of light spots on the abdomen. 
In the males the head is a little elevated behind the eyes, and in 
pictilis and gigas there is a conspicuous hump. The males of gigas 
have the first metatarsus white and much thicker than the other 
joints. The male palpi resemble those of Ceratinella, having a long 
tube turned abruptly backward from the end of the tarsus. In 
pictihs the tube is very long and coiled in a double spiral. 

Diplocephalus Bertkau, 1883, is Lophomma Em. of N. E. Theri- 
didae, in which the males have two humps on the head, each 
carrying one pair of the middle eyes. The male palpi have the 
tibia very large, covering the back of the tarsus nearly its whole 
length. 

Lophocarenum consists of those spiders, the males of which, 
except rugosum, have holes in the head behind the eyes, and the 
middle of the head elevated, sometimes into large humps. The 
male palpi have the patella longer than the tibia, and the latter 
usually longer than wide, with small hooks and processes of various 
shapes. Where the enlargement of the head of the male is extreme, 
the female has a slight elevation of the head as in montiferum and 
alpinum. The unusually large size of the front lateral eyes in 
quadricristatum occurs in a less degree in the female. 

There is no better example of the difficulty of classifying the 
Erigonee than the attempt of Simon to distribute the American 
species of this genus, without seeing the spiders themselves, among 
eight different genera. For florens he makes a new genus Ayp- 
selistes, while decemoculatum, the females of which cannot be dis- 
tinguished from those of florens, is placed in Nertene, which cor- 
responds in part to my Tmeticus. L. pallidum and L. longitubus, 
which resemble each other as closely as any other two species, 
are placed one in 7yphocrestes and the other in Pocodicnemis. L. sco- 
puliferum is placed in Minyriolus, L. quadricristatum in Pana- 
momops, L. longitarsus in Lophomma, L. rostratum in Trachelo- 
campitus and L. decemoculatum, montiferum and spiniferum in 
Neriene. \ see no reason to follow any of these changes; they 
only obscure the relations of the spiders. 

Tmeticus is still a heterogeneous group. The more typical species, 


— 


Supplement to the New England Spiders. 177 


such as probatus and trilobatus, approach Erigone by their wide 
maxillz and long palpi and the tibia widened toward the tarsus, 
and the males have a strong single spine on the front of the man- 
dibles. Maximus, tibialis and brunneus resemble each other in size 
and proportions, but differ in their mandibles and palpi. The other 
species have little in common except their general size and color, 
arrangement of eyes and form of mandibles and maxille. 

Erigone now includes four species; longipalpis, dentigera, autum- 
nalis and the new brevidenitatus with wide maxille, large mandibles 
and long male palpi with widened tibia, and a spur directed down- 
ward on the patella. 

In the Z7heridide there are but few additions. Theridium ken- 
tuckyense has been found in a few places. The male of 7. zelo- 
typum is described and the species found to be common in Maine 
and New Hampshire. Latrodectus mactans has been found in several 
localities, but is nowhere common. The new Enoplognatha rugosa 
has been found rarely but in localities far apart. The same is true 
of the new Pedanostethus pumilus, and P. spiniferus. 

In the Agalende, Hahnia brunnea is described from a single 
specimen, but there is a second one in the collection of Mr. Banks. 
Crypheca montana appears to be common in northern New Hamp- 
shire, and from description is very near the C. peckhamii Simon ot 
the Pacific coast. 

The larger Cludionas have been better defined and new figures 
are given of the epigynum of several species. The two new species 
are one from a single specimen C. spiralis and the other C. pre- 
matura a common species from the summit of Mt. Washington, the 
female of which has long been known as a variety of C. ornata Em. 

The North American Lycoside and Pisauride have been described 
and their classification much improved by T. H. Montgomery in 
Proceedings of Philadelphia Acad., 1902-3 and 4. Lycosa relucens 
Monte. is a common species in New England. Dolomedes idoneus 
Montg. and DPD. fontanus Em. have both been described as D. tene- 
brosus Hentz, which agrees equally well with either. The new 
D. vernalis appears to be common in Maine and New Hampshire. 
Pirata remains a difficult group and each author has his own species. 
P. minuta is the most distinct, montana and tnsularis have been 
again identified and three new species are described. In N. E. Ly- 
cosidae 1885 I have described under the name of L. nidifex what 
I now consider as two species named by Marx in the Am. Naturalist, 
1881. . L. nidifex and L. Prket. Nidtfex is the inland species which 
ordinarily makes a ring or turret at the mouth of its burrow; Pike7 


178 J. H. Emerton, 


is the seashore and sand dune species described by Scudder as 
L. arenicola in Psyche 1877. L. avara Keys, L. baltimortana Keys, 
and Pardosa littoralis Banks been have found in New England and 
new figures and descriptions of them are given. 

Since the publication of N. E. Attidae in 1891 the number of 
species of that family known in New England has been largely 
increased, but nearly all the species have been described from other 
parts of the country and appear to have very wide distribution. 
Some of the most common species are so variable and their dif- 
ferences so hard to define that they are still very imperfectly known, 
especially in Phidippus and Dendryphantes. The Icius which I 
described as a dark variety of e/egans now appears to be a distinct 
species, /cius similis, Bks. 

Dendryphantes flavipes Pkm. has been found in small numbers 
through Maine and New Hampshire. The male is fairly distinct 
from that of capitatus but I cannot distinguish the females. A new 
species D. Jeffersoni is described from very few specimens found 
on the Mt. Washington range at an elevation of 5,000 feet living 
in the moss and lichens. 


List of New Species. 


Ptrata arenicola. 
» maculata. 


Enoplognatha rugosa. 
Pedanostethus pumilus. 


Re spiniferus. » sylvestris. 
Ceratinopsis auriculatus. Dolomedes vernats. 

*f, alternatus. Amaurobius boreals. 
Caseola herbicola. Micaria laticeps. 

- alticeps. Fs quinquenotata. 

Lophocarenum cuneatum. Castaneira lineata. 

i abruptum. Drassus liemahs. 

5 minutum. . bicoruis. 

| rugosum. Clubtona spirals. 
Erigone brevidentatus. s prematura. 


Linyphia maculata. 
Bathyphantes calcaratus. 
Microneta denticulata. 

oy serrata. 
Lycosa crassipalpis. 
Pardosa diffusa. 


A postenus acutus. 
Crypheca montana. 
Hahnia brunnea. 
Phidippus Whitman. 
Dendryphantes Jeffersont. 


Supplement to the New England Spiders. 


479 


List of described species found in 
New England since 1882-1892. 


Latrodectus mactans. 
Theridium kentuckyense Keys. 
Pedanostethus riparius Keys. 
Ceratinella formosa Banks. 
Grammonota gigas Banks. 
Flistagonia (E-xechophysis) palus- 
tris Banks. 
Lophocarenum (Dismodicus)  al- 
pinum Banks. 
(Dicyphus) trilo- 
batus Banks. 
Tmeticus flaveolus Banks. 

- debilis Banks. 

Tapinopa bilineaia Banks. 
Zilla atrica Koch. 
Pachygnatha tristriata Keys. 
Lycosa avara Keys. 

Lycosa baltimoreana Keys. 
Piket Marx. 

»  relucens Montgomery. 
Pardosa tittoralis Banks. 
Dolomedes idoneus Montgomery. 
Dolomedes urinator (Hentz) Mont- 

gomery. 


” 


» 


(Ecobius (Thalamia)  parietalis 
(Hentz). 

Scotolathys (neophanes) palhdus 
Marx. 


Orchestina saltitans Banks. 

Micaria gentilis Banks. 

Prosthesima rufula Banks. 

Gnaphosa parvula Banks. 

Cicurina pallida Keys. 

Phidippus insignarius Koch. 

Dendryphantes flavipes Pkm. 

Icius similis Banks. 

Hyctia Piket Pk. 

Mevia tibialis Koch. 

Pellenes (attus) viridipes Hentz. 

(attus) roseus Hentz. 

agilis Banks. 

oe borealis Banks. 

Homatlattus cyaneus Pkm. 

Peckhamia (Synemosyna) scorpt- 
onea Hentz. 


») 


Jy) 


Theridium differens, Em. Trans. Conn. Acad. 1892. (Plate I, 
figure 7.) 

The epigynum of this species is wrongly described and figured 
in N. E. Therididae. The openings are really on the outer side, 
as they are in Theridium spirale, and differ only in being a little 
smaller and farther apart. See fig. 7. 


Theridium zelotypum, Em. Trans. Conn. Acad. 1892. (Plate I, 
figure 5.) 

This species has been found in the White Mountains and all over 
Maine, as far north as Moosehead Lake, but not south of Portland, 
Me., and westward as far as Winnipeg, Manitoba. At Monhegan, 
Me., July 1, 1901 adult males were abundant in webs with the 
females under spruce branches. The males are as large as the 
females, and have the abdomen similarly marked. The cephalo- 


thorax, legs and palpi are bright orange color, and the legs only. 


slightly darker at the ends of the joints. The dark middle stripe 
of the cephalothorax is usually shorter than in the female, and does 
not extend forward to the eyes. The male palpus resembles that 
of murarium with all the appendages more elongated, Pl. 1, fig. 5. 
At pairing time the webs do not contain the characteristic tents 
covered with spruce leaves and scales; these are made later and 
in the last of July and first of August are found in nearly all the 
webs, hiding the females and eggs. The females remain in the 
nests with the young as late as September. 


Theridium kentuckyense, Keys. Spinnen Amerikas, 1884. (Plate I, 
figures 6, 6a.) 

The same size and general form as differens and muraritum. The 
colors are less bright than in those species and more like 7. fepi- 
dariorum. The legs are pale, with light yellowbrown, wide rings 
at the ends of the joints, and less distinctly in the middle. The 
cephalothorax is brown, darker at the sides, and lightest between 
the eyes and the dorsal groove, without any stripes. The sternum 
is brown, without markings, and the coxe and base of the fe- 
mora pale. 


Supplement to the New England Spiders. 181 


The markings of the abdomen are distinct at the anterior end 
and also over the spinnerets, while in the middle they consist of 
small and indistinct spots in irregular transverse rows extending 
down the sides. At the anterior end is a bright white spot with 
a larger black spot on each side sharply defined toward the middle 
line, and irregular and indistinct at the sides. At the hinder end 
over the spinnerets is a white spot with short black stripes at the 
sides. On each side of the abdomen is a short, dark, vertical stripe 
that in some individuals is deep black. 

In the male the markings of the abdomen unite into a more 
distinct middle light stripe, bordered by two dark ones, but the 
white spots at the ends are distinct as in the female. 

The epigynum is small and rounded behind with two openings 
twice their diameter apart. The skin is so transparent that the 
tubes of the epigynum are seen through it and obscure the openings. 

At the end of the palpal organ is a long thin appendage, widened 
and twisted at the end, partly enclosing and supporting the tube. 
fast tio. Ga. 

Found at New Haven, Conn., Jaffrey, N. H., and by Dr. Fox at 
Hollis, N. H. 


Latrodectus mactans, Fabr. 
Theridion verecundum, Hentz. 

This is the largest and most conspicuous species of the family. 
The abdomen is round, sometimes a centimeter in diameter, and the 
whole body is deep black except a bright red spot under the ab- 
domen and one or a row of red spots on the upper side. In alcohol 
the spots fade to white or yellow. In young individuals there is 
a white line around the front of the abdomen and three rows of 
spots partly white and partly red along the back, and the legs are 
brown in the middle of the joints and black at the ends. The 
adult males are marked much like the young with the lateral spots 
elongated and with a red line in the middle of each. The males 
are much smaller than the females, some of them only three or 
four millimeters long but with long legs. The lateral eyes, which 
in most Therididae are close together, are in Latrodectus as far 
apart as they are from the middle eyes. The epigynum is of the 
usual Theridion pattern with a single, wide, oval opening partly 
divided on the front edge. The palpal organ has a very large and 
long tube coiled in two flat turns across the end of the bulb. In 
alcohol this tube often becomes displaced and coils around the bulb 
in any direction. 


182 J. H. Emerton, 


The nest is usually near the ground under a stone or in a hole 
in the sod. The web extends among surrounding objects sometimes 
for a foot from the nest in all directions. It consists mainly of large 
irregular meshes, but includes usually a distinct flat or curved sheet 
of smaller meshes like the webs of Steatoda or Pholcus. The cocoons 
are half on inch in diameter brownish white in color. 

This species is found all over the country as far west as the Rocky 
Mountains and north to southern New Hampshire. In the South it 
is common, but in New England occurs only occasionally in scattered 
localities. 


Enoplognatha rugosa, new. (Plate I, figures 8 to 8c.) 

Two males sifted from leaves in a swamp in the Blue Hills, May 6, 
1905, are about half as large as marmorata, measuring 3.5 mm. in 
length. The cephalothorax is flat and the head wide and low as 
it is in marmorata, but the legs are longer and more slender. The 
sternum is widest in front, and less indented around the coxe than 
in marmorata. The mandibles are more slender than in marmorata, 
and the claw is slender and nearly as long as the basal joint. The 
process on the under side is near the middle, and has a single 
pointed tip and below it two small teeth, Pl. I, fig. 8c. The legs 
and mandibles are slightly roughened by little elevations at the 
bases of the hairs, which are shorter and fewer than in marmorata. 
There are similar elevations on the middle of the cephalothorax 
and around the edges of maxille and sternum. The palpi resemble 
those of marmorata. The color in the specimens examined is pale 
and less yellow than in marmorata, in alcohol inclining to red as 
in Steatoda triangulosa. The abdomen has an indistinct pattern 
consisting of a broken middle line and two rows of spots. 

The female found May 30, 1906, under leaves at Three-mile Island, 
Lake Winnipesaukee, N. H., resembles the males in color and mark- 
ings and in size. The abdomen is larger, and the legs and man- 
dibles short as in females of related species. The head, sternum 
and mouth parts are less roughened, but have longer hairs than in 
the male. The epigynum has a transverse narrow opening behind, 
covered by a short brown plate. 


Pedanostethus riparius, Keysl. Spinnen Amerikas, Therididae, 1886. 
(Plate |, figures 1 to tid)) 

This species described by Keyserling from Lake Superior, is one 

of the most common spiders under leaves all over New England. 


Supplement to the New England Spiders. 183 


The length is about 4 mm., the sexes differing little in size. The 
cephalothorax and abdomen are about equal in length. The cephalo- 
thorax is wide in front ; about two-thirds as wide as it is at the widest 
part, and the rows of eyes are almost straight, the upper row only 
slightly longer than the lower. The palpi of the female are as long as 
the cephalothorax, and those of the male longer. The maxille have 
the ends straight and nearly parallel, as in Exoplognatha marmorata, 
not oblique as in Steatoda borealis. The sternum is as wide as long, 
widest between the first and second legs and slightly pointed behind. 
The colors are dull brown and gray, without any markings. The ce- 
phalothorax is smooth andshining and darkened a littletoward the head. 
The legs are brown like the cephalothorax, darkened toward the tips 
and covered with fine hairs. The abdomen is gray, generally lighter 
than the cephalothorax, and covered with dark gray hairs. The 
epigynum has a characteristic pear-shaped piece in front, Pl. 14, 
fig. 1c, but in some individuals this piece is oblong, Pl. 1, fig. 1d. 

The male palpi are stout and three-fourths as long as the rest 
of the spider. The tibia and patella are both short and together 
equal in length to the tarsus. The tibia is a little narrowed at the 
base and widened at the end around the base of the tarsus on the 
outer side. The tarsus is narrow, only partly covering the palpal 
organ. Near the tip it has a notch on the upper side, and two 
curved stiff hairs, Pl. I, fig. 1a. 


Pedanostethus pumilus, new. (Plate I, figures 2, 2a.) 

In the maple swamp at Clarendon Hills, south of Boston, three 
males have been found of this small species. It is 2.5 mm. long, 
colored like very light individuals of vifarius, and resembling it in 
every respect except in the palpi. These are proportionally shorter 
than in riparius, being not much longer than the cephalothorax. The 
tibia is more contracted at the base than in r7parius, and the tarsus 
is shorter, rounder and thicker. The notch near the tip is wider 
and there are no special hairs. The female is the same size and 
color as the male. The epigynum is short like that of 7parius but 
has the front piece wider than long instead of pear shaped fig. 2a. 

One male also found near the Carter notch, White Mountains, 
Aug., 1906, and another at Three-mile Island, Lake Winnipesaukee. 


Pedanostethus spiniferus, new. (Plate I, figures 3, 3a.) 

The male is 2.5 mm. long, and pale like pumil/us, and resembles 
it except that the lateral eyes of the upper row are a little farther 
-back. The palpi have the tibia shaped much as in riparius, not 


184 J. H. Emerion, 


as narrow at the base as in P. pumuilus. The tarsus is oval and 
less pointed than in 77farius, with the notch smaller and not as 
near the tip. At the base of the palpal organ is a long hook turn- 
ing out at right angle to the tarsus, Pl. I, fig. 13. The female is 
of the same size as the male. The epigynum is elongated, a third 
as long as the abdomen. At the front end close behind the fourth 
coxee is a small, dark colored, sharp point directed forward a little 
behind which the round spermathece show through the skin, and 
behind these two parallel dark lines extend backward and meet at 
the base of a short, pale, blunt appendage directed backward. 

This species is found under leaves in company with riparius and 
pumillus. Clarendon Hills and Waltham, Mass. 


Argyrodes cancellatus. (Plate I, figures 10 to 10c.) 

Theridion cancellatum, Hentz. 

Laszola cancellata, Emerton, N. E. Therididae. Trans. Conn. Acad. 
1882. 

Argyrodes larvatus, Keyserling. Spinnen Amerikas. 

This species, found in Connecticut, is abundant on Long Island 
and farther south. It is sometimes found in webs of its own and 
often in webs of larger spiders, especially in those of Epezra strix. 
The colors are light gray and brown, with silvery spots on the 
abdomen, and when it is motionless with the feet drawn up, it is 
hard to distinguish from a piece of leaf or bark dropped by accident 
into the web. : 

The female is 2.56 mm. long, with the cephalothorax 1 mm. long. 
The head is higher, and more vertical in front than in ¢rigonum 
and the front middle eyes project shghtly on the front of the head. 
The lower part of the head is rounded and extends forward a little 
beyond the mandibles. The abdomen is as high as wide, rounded 
above and narrowed toward the spinnerets, which are in the middle 
of the under side. At the end of the abdomen is a double tubercle 
with the lower half largest, and on each side of the abdomen a 
little farther forward another tubercle. The epigynum has a wide 
oval opening, partly covered and divided by a projection of the 
front edge. 

The male is 3 mm. long and the cephalothorax 1.6 mm. The 
lower part of the front of the head extends forward and downward 
in front of the mandibles in a nose-shaped process, above which 
there is a round pit on each side of the head. The abdomen is 
smaller and narrower than that of the female, and covered above 
with silvery spots mixed with gray and black. The male palpi are 


ee 


Supplement to the New England Spiders. 185 


shorter and have the tarsus larger and rounder than in ¢rigonum, 
Pl. I, fig. 10e. The descriptions and figures are from specimens 
taken at Cold Spring Harbor on the north side of Long Island, N. Y. 


Ceratinella formosa, Banks. Ithaca, 1892. (Plate II, figures 5 to 5d.) 

This species was found by Miss E. B. Bryant at Long Island in 
Portland Harbor, Me., Sept. 11, 1904. It was in great numbers on 
the stones on the beach and flying by threads in the air. In size 
and color it resembles C. /eta. The males have the whole upper 
surface of the abdomen hard, while the females have only a hard 
spot across the anterior end. The cephalothorax and abdomen are 
both longer and less rounded than in /eta, and the sternum is 
narrower behind, measuring between the fourth legs one-third its 
length, while the sternum of /efa measures half its length. The 
epigynum has a triangular opening somewhat like that of “eta. The 
male palpus resembles that of C. dbrunnea; the process of the tibia 
is long and hooked, and the tube of the palpal organ is simple, 
with no tooth at the bend. This species lives among the small 
stones above high water on the beach, and runs much faster than 
the other Ceratinellas. Found at Gloucester, Mass. on beaches and 
one specimen in the Carter notch, White Mountains, N. H. 


Ceratinopsis auriculatus, new. (Plate II, figures 9, 9a, 9b.) 

1.5 mm. long and much like C. /aticeps. The colors are yellow 
and orange like the other species, with a little black on the head 
and ends of the palpi. The upper middle eyes are more than their 
diameter apart, and the lateral eyes are farther from them than 
they are from each other. Each pair of lateral eyes is raised on 
a little horn turned forward and projecting in a point beyond the 
eyes. The tibia of the male palpus projects upward and hooks 
forward. Seen from above it has three indistinct teeth in place of 
the two long ones of C. /aticeps. 

One male from Three-mile Island, Lake Winnipesaukee, N. H., 
May 29, 1906, Miss E. B. Bryant; one from Fitzwilliam, July 1907. 


Ceratinopsis alternatus, new. (Plate II, figures 6, 6a.) 

In general appearance this resembles the female C. interpres. 
The length is 2.6 mm. and the color is light orange brown with 
black between the eyes, but no other markings. The arrangement 
of the eyes is the same as in ivferpres, but the head is not quite 
as high and the back not as straight. The sternum is convex and 
large, and as wide as long, extending between the fourth coxe 
as wide as the coxe are long. 


186 J. H. Emerton, 


The epigynum is simple, with a middle lobe a little longer than 
wide. 

The male palpi have the patella long and widened at the end, 
with a large tooth on the under sider. The tibia is very short and 
has a tooth on the upper side as long as that on the patella but 
more slender. The palpal organ has a slender pointed process at 
the end, and a short and flat basal hook, Pl. Il, fig. 6. 

Three-mile Island and Jaffrey, N. H., Mt. Tom, Mass., Simsbury, 
Conn., Balsam, North Carolina. 


Caseola, new genus. 

General appearance like Ceratinella, but without any hard plate 
on the abdomen. The cephalothorax is as wide as long, in the male 
aluceps, elevated in front. The two rows of eyes are of equal 
length the upper middle pair as far from the front middle pair as 
they are from each other. The abdomen is oval, not much larger 
than the cephalothorax and covered with scattered hairs. The 
legs are short and differ little in length. The mandibles have 
three very small teeth on the inner side of the claw groove and 
two or three larger ones on the front. The maxilla are longer 
than wide and a little pointed at the inner corners. The sternum 
is as wide as long, widest between the first and second legs and 
extends backward between the fourth legs, where it is as wide as 
the coxe. The male palpi have the patella and tibia both short 
and the palpal organ simple with a slender curved tube, at the base 
of which is a flat process widened and oval at the end directed 
outward. 


Caseola herbicola, new. (Plate H, figures 1 to 1d.) 

1.5 mm. long and resembling Ceratinella, but without any hard 
spots on the abdomen, which is covered with scattered stiff hairs. 
The color is pale and whitish, without the orange which is usual 
in Ceratinella. The cephalothorax is darkened a little toward the 
head, and in the male is browner than in the female. The cephalo- 
thorax is nearly as wide as long, very little narrowed or raised 
toward the head in either sex. There is nothing peculiar in the 
arrangement of the eyes. The front middle pair are as usual smallest 
and about two-thirds the diameter of the upper middle eyes, with 
which they make a quadrangle slightly higher than wide. The 
front row of eyes is almost as long as the upper row, with the 
lateral eyes a little raised above the head. The mandibles have 
four or five very small teeth each side of the claw. The sternum 


Supplement to the New England Spiders. 187 


is as wide as long, and extends backward between the fourth coxe, 
as wide as the coxe themselves. The epigynum has a wide trans- 
parent lobe in the middle, at each side of which the brown sperma- 
thecze show through the skin, and from which two dark bands curve 
in half circles toward the middle. 

The male palpi are simple with a slender tube curving forward 
toward a small terminal process with two teeth. Near the base of 
the tube there is a small dark tooth, and under it, directed toward 
the inner side, is a pale club-shaped process. The tarsal hook is 
very small and hhard to see. The tibia is widened at the end with 
no processes or branches, except a slight raised and straight edge 
on the upper side. 

The females have been found in small numbers at several places 
near Boston under leaves in early spring. Adult males and several 
females were swept from low plants on Mt. Holyoke, Mass., on 
June 20th. 


Caseola alticeps, new. (Plate II, figures 2 to 2e.) 

1.5 mm. long with the general appearance of Lophocarenum rather 
than Ceratinella. The males only are known, and they have the 
head narrow and elevated, somewhat as in Ceratinopsis interpres. 
The eyes are all on the elevation and so are closer together than 
in herbicola. The front middle eyes are only a little smaller than 
the upper middle pair. The cephalothorax is nearly as wide as 
long. The abdomen is oval and covered with scattered hairs, which 
are finer and more numerous than in herbicola. 

The male palpi have the tibia widened up and down with a tooth 
on the outer side. The palpal organ is simple, having on the inner 
side a club-shaped appendage like herdicola._ The tube ends between 
two processes at the tip of the organ, one flat and transparent, and 
the other short and fine, with a peculiar curve at the end. The 
tarsal hook is very small and easily concealed. 

One from Three-mile Island in May, dark colored, and one from 
Waltham, Mass. in November, which is pale. 


Grammonota gigas. (Plate HU, figures 8 to 8b.) 
Erigonoplus gigas, Banks. Canadian Entomologist, 1896. 

Two males of this species were found under a board at Ipswich 
Bluff, Plum Island, Mass. by Miss Mary T. Palmer, June, 1906. They 
are 2.5mm. long and resemble in size and color G. pictilis. There 
are markings on the back of the abdomen as in /pictilis, but the 
front half is stained with yellow over the other markings. The 


Trans. Conn. Acap., Vol. XIV. 15 January, 1909. 


188 J. H. Emerion, 


front legs have the metatarsus white and twice as thick as the 
other joints. The end of the tibia is also slightly thickened. The 
two middle pairs of eyes are nearly as far apart as the lateral pairs, 
and the head is slightly elevated between them, and covered with 
hairs directed backward and upward as in the other species. Behind 
the eyes is a large hump rising abruptly in front and divided into 
five lobes. The male palpi resemble closely those of G. :nornata. 
The tibia has, on the upper side, a large, simple hook turned forward, 
and the tube of the palpal organ is short and stiff and turned back- 
ward at the tip. This was first found by Banks at Ithaca, N. Y. 
and described by him in 1896. 

Another male was found at Fitzwilliam, N. H., July, 1807, in the 
rhododendron woods. 


Histagonia palustris, 
Exechophysis palustris, Banks. Ent. Soc., Wash., 1905. (Plate I, 
figures 4 to 4f.) 

This is another species resembling the Pholcomma rostrata des- 
cribed in 1882. It is a little over 1 mm. long, short and rounded 
like rostrata, with the abdomen of the male hard on the back and 
covered with scattered stiff hairs. The head is elevated and extends 
forward below the eyes in a blunt protuberance, covered on the 
end with stiff hairs directed upward and backward. 

The male palpi have the tube of the palpal organ coiled once 
around the end of the bulb. The tibia is flattened and, seen from 
the side, as wide as long, with a recurved black spine on the distal 
corner, and a smaller black spine near the basal end, the edge 
between the two spines irregular and cut into several notches. 
Seen from above with the palpi in their usual position, the tibia is 
wedge-shaped with the point directed forward. On the outer side 
of the tibia near the upper edge are two long hairs, which appear 
to correspond to the two hairs on the tibia of rostrata. 

Three-mile Island, Lake Winnipesaukee, N. H., May 25, 1905. 
Sifted from leaves. Ithaca, N. Y., N. Banks. 


Lophocarenum cuneatum, new. (Plate III, figures 6 to 6c.) 

2 mm. long, the cephalothorax dark brown, the abdomen as 
dark but grayer in color, and the legs distinctly lighter, pale when 
freshly molted, and light yellow when mature. The cephalothorax 
is nearly as wide as long, extended in front under the eyes in a 
blunt point. The head is elevated into a distinct hump, with long 
oval grooves at the sides, in the front ends of which, close to the 


Supplement to the New England Spiders. 189 


eyes are the lateral pits. The upper middle eyes are on the front 
and nearly at the top of the hump, the lower middle eyes half way 
between them and the mandibles. The lateral eyes are wide apart, 
just outside the lateral grooves, each pair on a slight elevation. 
The hairs between the eyes are long and pointed outward. The 
male palpi have the patella nearly twice as long as wide. The 
tibia is very much widened toward the tarsus and partly covers it 
on the upper side, where it has a large sickle-shaped hook turned 
outward. The tarsal hook is flat and broad, with a small notch. 
The tarsus is short and rounded and the parts of the palpal organ 
small, with a short tube curved around the end. 

A single freshly molted female has the head slightly elevated 
behind the eyes, and the middle eyes as far from the front pair as 
they are from each other. The epigynum is very far forward, and 
has two pointed lobes directed backward and close together with 
only a narrow groove between them. 

Fitzwilliam, N. H. under leaves near the rhododendrons, May 25, 
1907. 


Lophocarenum abruptum, new. (Plate III, figures 5 to 5c.) 

A male a little over 2 mm. long from under leaves on Mt. Holy- 
oke, Mass., June 20. The cephalothorax is depressed in the middle, 
and the head rises abruptly, carrying the upper middle eyes on the 
front and upper side. Just above the lateral eyes are wide grooves, 
with a small round pit a little farther back than the lateral eyes. 
Between the upper and lower middle eyes are a few fine hairs 
turned toward the sides. Below the front middle eyes the head 
projects forward over the mandibles. The tarsus of the male palpus 
is about half as long as the patella and widened toward the tarsus, 
and has on the upper side two processes directed forward, the inner 
one twice as long as the outer and as long as the body of the 
tibia. The tarsus is rounded and the palpal organ large and thick 
from above downward. The tube is small and coiled in one turn 
on the outer side. The colors in this individual are pale, the ab- 
domen darkest. 


Lophocarenum quadricristatum. (Plate III, figures 4, 4a.) 

This has been found again on the summit of Mt. Washington in 
August, 1906. The female has in a less degree the same peculiar 
arrangement of the eyes as the male. The middle pairs are un- 
usually far apart, and the lateral pairs have the front eye one and 


190 Jj. H. Emerton, 


a half times as large as the other. The head is a little elevated, 
highest just behind the upper middle eyes. The epigynum is very 
simple, showing a straight edge behind, with a wide middle lobe 
separated only by slight grooves. The sternum in both sexes extends 
backward between the fourth coxe, where it is wider than the dia- 
meter of the coxe. 


Lophocarenum alpinum, Banks. . 
Dismodicus alpinus, Banks. Can. Ent., 1896. (Plate III, figures 3 
to 3f.) 

An adult male and female were found in a thin web under a 
stone near the summit of Mt. Washington, N. H., and another female 
and a male not yet molted for the last time under other stones in 
the same neighborhood. The male is 2 mm. long. The cephalo- 
thorax is half longer than wide, narrow in front and extended a 
little beyond the mandibles. The hump is rounded above and rises 
between the eyes and the middle of the cephalothorax ; it is nearly 
as wide as the front of the head, and inclines forward a little over 
the eyes. The front of the hump is covered wit) short hairs, longest 
below and turned outward toward each side. On each side of the 
hump at the level of the eyes is a groove with a round pit at the 
front end. The eyes are spread over the whole width of the head, 
the lateral pairs largest, the front middle pair very small and near 
together. The eyes of the upper row are equal distances apart. 
The palpi are longer than the cephalothorax. The tibia is shorter 
than the patella, and extended only a little over the upper side of 
the tarsus, where it is divided into two teeth, the inner one longest 
but slender and hooked inward at the end. The palpal organ 
resembles that of the last species and of L. montiferum. 

A young male almost ready for the final moult, shows a small 
hump behind the eyes and a slight extension of the front of the 
head. The palpi are much enlarged, and show the form of the 
male tibia and palpal organ indistinctly through the skin. 

In the female which is about the same size as the male, the front 
of the head is not extended forward, but there is a slight hump 
one-fourth as high as that of the male, in the same place between 
the eyes and the middle of the cephalothorax. The epigynum has 
a wide middle lobe curved on the edge and shows through the 
skin the spermathece and two irregularly coiled tubes at the sides 
of the middle lobe. 


Supplement to the New England Spiders. 191 


Lophocarenum trilobatum. (Plate ILI, figures 1, 1a.) 
Dicyphus trilobatus, Banks. Canadian Entomologist, 1896. 

One male only from the maple swamp at Clarendon Hills, about 
the same size as L. montiferum, with a hump as high as that species, 
but differently shaped. The cephalothorax is not quite as wide as 
long, and a little narrower in front. The eyes are grouped together 
as in most species, the hinder middle pair a little farther apart than 
they are from the lateral and the lateral pairs almost horizontal. 
The hump is half as wide as the cephalothorax and nearly of the 
same height. It is rounded behind and in front divided into three 
lobes, the middle one extending forward nearly to the eyes. The 
palpi are longer than the cephalothorax, the tibia a little shorter 
than the patella, but elongated over the tarsus on the upper side, 
so that it appears longer. This process of the tibia is divided into 
two teeth, the outer one longer and larger than the inner. The 
palpal organ has some resemblance to that of montiferum, with a 
small tarsal hook and the tube curled once around the end. 


Lophocarenum minutum, new. (Plate II], figures 8, 8a, 8b.) 

1mm. long and light yellow brown. The cephalothorax is one- 
fourth longer than wide and rounded in front. The head is only 
slightly elevated, and the lateral grooves are behind the eyes, with 
the pits showing from above through the skin one-third the length 
of the cephalothorax from the front. The sternum is as broad as 
long, extending backward between the fourth legs, where it is as 
wide as one of the coxe. The palpi have the patella and tibia 
both short, about as wide as long. The tibia is a little widened 
toward the tarsus and has on the upper and outer side a short, 
fine and slightly curved tooth. The tarsal hook is long and slender, 
and in my specimens turns outward so that it shows from above. 
The palpal organ is small and simple, and there is a short and 
blunt black process that extends beyond the end of the tarsus. 
The tarsus is slightly angular on the outer side. The female has 
the head slightly lower, with the upper and lower middle eyes 
closer together. The epigynum resembles that of several other 
species of the genus having a distinct middle lobe, widened at the 
end in front of which are two openings. 

Fitzwilliam, N. H. under leaves near the rhododendrons, May 25, 1907. 


Lophocarenum rugosum, new. (Plate Il, figures 3 to 3¢.) 
2 mm. long. The cephalothorax is oval, widest across the middle 
and highest behind the eyes. The surface is slightly roughened all 


192 J. A. Emerton, 


over. The sternum is also rough. It extends backward between 
the fourth legs, where it is wider than the coxe. It extends also 
between the first and second, and between the second and third 
legs. The maxille are wider than long, and the mandibles stout, 
with four teeth on the front of the claw, and three small and one 
large one on the inner side. The eyes spread across the whole 
front of the head. The front row is straight, with the middle pair 
smallest, and the middle quadrangle is higher than wide. The ab- 
domen is round and a little pointed at the spinnerets as in Erigone. 
The abdomen is covered with short and fine scattered hairs. The 
coxe are long, extending beyond the border of cephalothorax, so 
that all are visible from above, and the legs are long and _ stout 
and covered with coarse hairs. 

The epigynum is very far forward and has a light colored middle 
lobe, longer than wide, at the sides of which the spermathece show 
through the skin. 

The palpal organs are very simple; the tube and two short ap- 
pendages showing only at the distal end. The tarsal hook is small 
and the tarsus short and round. The tibia is widened a little across 
the middle, and has a flat extension with a straight edge against 
the upper side of the tarsus. 

The relations of this species are doubtful as the male does not 
have the grooves and pits in the sides of the head which are char- 
acteristic of the males of most species of this genus. In other 
respects, however, its resemblance is close to L. /atum and L. cre- 
natum and still more to an undescribed species from Long Island, 
N. Y., for which the females are easily mistaken. The sternum in 
all of these is wide and convex and roughened all over the sur- 
face. The extension between the legs occurs in the same way in 
L. crenatum. The form of the epigynum is the same in all four 
species. The resemblance of the male palpi is equally close, all 
the species having the tarsus nearly of the same shape and the 
parts of the palpal organ small and with only slight variations 
among the species. 

Grafton, Mass. Three-mile Island, Lake Winnipesaukee, N. H. 


under leaves. 


Tmeticus longisetosus, Emerton. Trans. Conn. Acad. 1892. (Plate IV, 
figure 9.) 
This species has been found again in March, 1907, under leaves 
in Allston, near Boston. The male and female are of the same size 
and much alike. They are pale in color, the legs and cephalo- 


Supplement to the New England Spiders. 193 


thorax light yellow tinged, when fresh, with light red on the head 
and mandibles. There is a row of four or five hairs directed forward 
on the middle line of the head. The abdomen is covered above 
and below with scattered hairs about their length apart. The 
mandibles of the male have a strong tooth in front. The sternum 
extends backward between the fourth coxz and is truncated at the 
hinder end, where it is about half as wide as the fourth coxa. The 
epigynum appears very simple externally, showing two small sper- 
mathece through the skin, over which the short scattered hairs are 
arranged in two clusters. The male palpi have been sufficiently 
figured in N. E. Theridide. 


Tmeticus flaveolus, Banks. Proc. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila. 1892. 
(Plate IV, figures 8, 8a, 8b.) 

This species resembles 7. /ongisetosus in size and color. It is 
1.46 mm, long. When fresh the cephalothorax is light orange color 
and the rest of the body pale. The sternum extends backward 
beyond the fourth coxz, where it is as wide as one of the coxae. 
The mandibles of the male have a small spine on the front near 
the end. The epigynum is much like that of /ongisetosus, with a 
transverse slit with the spermathecz showing through the skin. The 
male palpus resembles that of /ongisetosus, but the tibia and tarsus 
are both slightly shorter. The tibia is widened at the end as it is 
in /ongitarsus, with several projections and shallow curves on the 
edge. The tarsus has two large spines near the base, one much 
thicker than the other and both about half as long as the corres- 
ponding spines in /ongiselosus. 

Coffin’s beach, Gloucester, Mass., in straw on the shore. Hanover, 
N. H. and Ithaca, N. Y. in Mr. Banks’ collection. 


Tmeticus debilis, Banks... Proc. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila. 1902. 
(Plate TV figures 373.4, 3b.) 

2mm. long, and pale yellow, brown and gray, with some individ- 
uals almost white. The group of eyes is rather narrow, not more 
than half the width of the thorax. The sternum is widest at the 
second legs, and extends between the fourth coxe in a narrow 
piece not more than half the diameter of one of the coxe. The 
male palpi are large and the palpal organs of a very distinct form. 
The tibia is small, but widened at the end, where it is about twice 
as wide as at the base. The tarsus is long and oval, with a smooth 
strip without hairs near the outer edge. The tarsal hook is slender 
and has a short rounded process near the base on the outer side. 


194 J. H. Emerton, 


All the appendages of the palpal organ are long and slender. The 
tube itself starts at the base under the tarsal hook and extends 
more than half around the tarsus, and is supported through nearly 
its whole length by a stouter process with a long hook at the end, 
usually dark-colored and having a short tooth near its base on the 
inner side of its curve. At the base of this stout process is another 
about half as long; which is soft and white and ends in a blunt 
point near the tip of the tube. 
Hammond’s Pond woods, Brookline, Carlisle Pines. 


Tmeticus corticarius, new. (Plate VI, figures 4, 4a, 4b.) 

This species had only been found singly in Cambridge and in 
New Haven, Conn., until trees around Boston and Providence were 
banded with cloths to trap the Gypsy moth caterpillars in 1905. 
It then appeared in considerable numbers under these cloths in both 
places from July until October. 

The length is 2.5 mm., the males and females being of the same 
size, the males having only slightly longer legs and smaller abdomen. 
The color is dull gray, the legs and cephalothorax yellowish, and 
the abdomen almost black. The front of the head is narrow and 
rounded, and the eyes not far apart. The epigynum is three-lobed, 
the outer lobes forming part of a semicircular plate a third as wide 
as the abdomen. The male palpus has the tibia very short and 
extended upward and downward. The upper process is very cons- 
picuous when the palpus is seen from the side. It is half as long 
as the tarsus, and curves slightly forward so as to fit the tarsus 
if both are brought together. 


Tmeticus brunneus, Em. Trans. Conn. Acad. 1882. (Plate IV, 
figures 7, 7a, 7b.) 

This has been found again on Mt. Washington by Mrs. Slosson, 
and is in Mr. Banks’s collection. It is closely related to T. tarsalis 
and 7. maximus, especially the latter; the upper projection of the 
tibia, however, is distinctly more pointed and larger than in maximus, 
and the tarsal hook is longer. The epigynum is also longer and 
projects more from the surface of the abdomen than in maximus. 


Erigone brevidentatus, new. (Plate II, figures 10b, 10c.) 

A small species not much over 1 mm. in length. The colors are 
the usual brown and gray, rather pale in all three specimens. The 
cephalothorax is only a little elevated behind the eyes, and there 
are no spines around the edge. The mandibles have one long 


Supplement to the New England Spiders. 195 


spine on the inner side and seven on the outer side, the longest 
one being opposite the one on the inner side. The male palpi 
have the patella and tibia of nearly the same length. The usual 
tooth on the under side of the patella is very small and short. 

Mt. Holyoke, sifted from leaves June 20, 1906; Fitzwilliam, N. H., 
July 20, 1907. 


Linyphia maculata, new. 
Linyphia conferta (Hentz) Banks, 1892. (Plate IV, figures 10 to, 10 ¢.) 

This species is related to clathrata and mandibulata. The ab- 
domen is high behind as in those species, and sometimes extends 
backward beyond the spinnerets. The cephalothorax of the female 
is somewhat shorter and the legs longer than in c/athrata and 
mandibulata. The hinder middle eyes are farther apart than they 
are from the lateral eyes. The front middle eyes are small and 
less than their diameter apart. 

The cephalothorax and legs are light orange yellow, the cephalo- 
thorax a little darker, and the eyes are surrounded by black. 
The abdomen is pale in front and marked with several dark spots, 
the front ones in pairs, which toward the hinder end are some- 
times almost black. Around the sides of the abdomen are gray 
spots and a row of irregular opaque white spots. In the male all 
the colors are darker, and the abdomen sometimes almost black. 
The sternum and under side of the abdomen are brown without any 
markings. 

The epigynum is widened toward the hinder end, PI. IV, fig. 109. 
The palpi of the males have the tarsi and palpal organs black, the 
palpal organs large and complicated and resembling those of L. 
marginata. 

At the time of publication of the N. E. Therididz I had seen 
only the young of this species at New Haven, Conn. In 1883 an 
adult male was found at the same place, and one near Boston in 
1890. More lately they have been found to be common near Boston, 
at Ipswich, in the Blue Hills, and at Sharon, living in webs near 
the ground like L. mandibulata but preferring more shady situations 
under the trees and bushes along paths through the woods rather 
than open meadows. The webs are large and nearly flat, but the 
part on which the spider usually stands is sometimes a little raised 
by tighter threads from above. 


196 J. H. Emerton, 


Tapinopa bilineata, Banks. Journal New York Entomological Soc., 
1393; p. 128. a(F late UX, seures Sto St) 

This species has been found twice, at Woods Hole in 1883, and 
at Clarendon Hills, south of Boston, in 1904, under leaves in winter 
in a maple swamp, both specimens females. The male was found 
in 1906 at Portland, Me. 

The length is 5 mm. and the length of the cephalothorax 2.5 mm. 
The cephalothorax is one half longer than wide, and the projecting 
middle eyes and the black bands narrowing toward the front make 
it appear longer and more pointed at the head than in the nearly 
related species. The middle eyes of the front row are as large as 
those of the upper row, which is unusual in this family, and the 
four middle eyes form a quadrangle longer than wide and nearly 
as wide in front as behind. The front middle eyes project forward 
over the mandibles. The mandibles are wide in front, with long 
claws and have seven teeth in front, the middle one-half the 
diameter of the mandible in length. On the under side of the 
mandibles are five or six shorter teeth, Pl. XI, fig. 8d. 

The abdomen is shaped as in Linyphia phrygiana and Bathyphantes 
nebulosa, high in front and low and pointed behind. 

The colors are translucent, white and black or dark gray, all 
becoming yellow in alcohol. The cephalothorax has two wide black 
bands at the side that cover more than half its surface, leaving a 
middle light band narrowing behind and toward the front. The 
dark bands do not quite extend to the sides of the head or much 
below the eyes in front. The back of the abdomen is marked with 
a series of pairs of dark spots, in one specimen united on the 
posterior half, so that half of the back is entirely black. The legs 
have wide dark bands around the ends and middle of the longer 
joints. The sternum is gray, darkest at the sides and the coxe are 
gray at the outer ends. 

The epigynum is curved downward in a half circle and widened 
at the end, Pl. XII, fig. 8f. At the base it is as wide as long, with an 
opening at each side and a thin partition in the middle, PI. XII, fig. 8e. 

The markings are more distinct, and darker than in the European 
longidens, of which there are specimens from Germany sent by 
A. Menge of Danzig in the Museum of Zoology at Cambridge. 

The male resembles the female, except that the legs are longer, 
and the top of the head above the eyes more hairy. The male 
palpus resembles that of 7. /ongidens: the tarsus has a long tooth 
near the base on the upper and inner side which is curved back- 
ward, but is not dividéd at the end into two teeth as it is in /ongidens. 


Supplement to the New England Spiders. LOM 


Bathyphantes calcaratus, new. (Plate IV, figures 13, 13a.) 

This species has been found at Portland, Maine, Moosehead Lake, 
and the lower part of Mt. Washington. The largest measures 3 mm. 
long. All the specimens are distinctly marked with gray, the darker 
one resembling Drapetisca socialis. The legs are long and slender, 
the femur darker toward the tip, and the tibia and metatarsus dark 
at the end and in the middle. The cephalothorax has a dark spot 
in the middle, wide in front and tapering to a line behind. The 
abdomen is white and gray, the markings of the front half united 
into a middle stripe with broken edges and two narrow lateral 
stripes. On the hinder half the markings are in pairs, slightly con- 
nected in the middle. The male palpi are as long as the cephalo- 
thorax. The patella and tibia are both short, but the tarsus is 
elongated with a short and sharp spur at the base. The tarsal 
hook is very large, recurved and widened at the end, where it has 
a short point above, and a longer one below, as shown in the figure. 
The tarsal hook resembles that of Microneta crasstmanus, a larger 
and shorter legged spider. 


Microneta persoluta. (Plate IV, figures 11, 11a.) 

The old figures in N. E. Theridide do not give a correct idea 
of the form of the tarsal hook, though they do show its character- 
istic sinuous lower edge. The tarsal hook is turned outward and 
thickened at the end, where it has several blunt irregular teeth as 
shown in the figure. It has been found at several new localities 
and seems to be a common species. 


Microneta denticulata, new. (Plate IV, figure 14.) 

This species resembles closely MW. persoluta in size and color, and 
is found in company with it, but is easily distinguished by the palpi, 
Pl. IV, fig. 14. The tarsal hook is nearly horseshoe shaped and has 
a thick edge on which are six or moreprominent teeth, those near 
the base partly united. The parts of the palpal organ are longer 
and more separate than in persoluta. The mandibles are without a 
prominent tooth on the front. 


Microneta latidens, Emerton. Trans. Conn. Acad., 1892. (Plate IV, 
figures 12 to 12c.) 

The male of this species was described in 1882 from New Haven, 
Connecticut. Since that time both sexes have been found at several 
places and in large numbers. It is 2 mm. to 2.5 mm. in length, 
the females being usually a little smaller than the males. The 


198 J. H. Emerton, 


general color is gray, paler on the legs, and there is great differ- 
ence in the depth of color in different individuals. In alcohol the 
wetting of the hairs makes them paler and more translucent, and 
they soon become yellow. The abdomen is marked with four 
longitudinal lighter lines partly broken into spots. There are no 
markings on the cephalothorax, except a little black around the eyes. 

The epigynum is not folded, but extends backward half way to 
the spinnerets, curved slightly inward toward the body and out- 
ward again at the tip, Pl. IV, fig. 12d. 

The male palpi have the tibial hook large and wide, turning 
outward with three teeth on the thickened edge. The base of the 
tarsus has a shght horn, shorter than in waria. The end of the 
palpal organ has two small black processes, one twice as long as 
the other, Pl. IV, fig. 12a, which show from below when the palpi 
are held in the usual position. 


Microneta serrata. (Plate IV, figures 15, 15a, 15h.) 

One male from a fence in Boston, Nov. 20, 1900, during the 
autumn flight. Length 1.6mm. The cephalothorax is a third longer 
than wide, and narrowed toward the front. The eyes cover the 
whole front of the head and are Jarge for the size of the spider. The 
front middle eyes are only slightly smaller and closer than the 
upper middle pair. The cephalothorax is highest in the middle 
where it is more than half as high as wide. The sternum is large 
and convex, widest in front, and ending in a blunt point between 
the fourth coxe. 

The male palpi are very peculiar. The patella is as long as wide; 
the tibia is twice as long as the patella and a little widened at the 
end, with a thin projection on the outer upper corner, extending 
forward and turned a little inward. There is a little ridge on the 
back of the tarsus parallel to this process. The tarsus has a slight 
spur at the base. The tarsal hook is slender as in several small 
Bathyphantes. The middle appendage of the palpal organ is larger 
than in Microneta viaria and has on the outer side a line of short 
black spines, Pl. IV, fig. 15a. 


Epeira angulata, Clerck. 

E. silvatica, Em. N. E. Epeiride. Trans. Conn. Acad., 1884. 

E. solitaria. N. E. Epeiride. Trans. Conn. Acad., 1884. 

E. nigra. Canadian Spiders. Trans. Conn. Acad., 1894. 
Comparison of several specimens from western Canada leads me 

to think that s:/vatica, solitaria and mgra are all varieties of angu- 





Supplement to the New England Spiders. 199 


- lata. In New England this species continues to be rare, but in the 
Rocky Mountains and in Oregon and California it is common on 
fences and outside of houses. On the piazza of hotels through the 
Canadian Rocky Mountains, the males vary in size from that of 
solitaria with the cephalothorax 5 mm. in length, to the smallest 
stlvatica only 3.5mm. The length of the first femur varies in these 
specimens from 5.5 to 4mm. Four males from the hotel at Glacier 
varied among themselves nearly as much. The palpi of the larger 
specimens resemble solitaria and nigra, with the tube curved up- 
ward at the base and strongly curved toward the end, while in 
smaller, light-colored individuals, the tube is less curved, lies closer 
to the bulb and tapers more regularly toward the point, as in the 
smaller sz/vatica. The shape of the second tibia is the same in all 
the varieties, the spines being somewhat longer and stouter in larger 
individuals. 

The females vary but little, except in color, most of the western 
specimens being darker than those from New England. The shape 
of the epigynum is very uniform, with the finger very long and 
slender. 

In August, 1906, Mrs. Annie Trumbull Slosson found a male on 
the hotel at the summit of Mt. Washington that resembles very 
closely the original £. softaria from Massachusetts. 


Epeira corticaria, Em. New Engl. Epeiride, 1884. (Plate V, 
figures 3, 3a.) 

Mature males and females are found on the lower part of Mt. 
Washington, N. H., in the early part of August. The females have 
the finger of the epigynum broken off or shrivelled. The males 
are marked and colored like the females, except that in the males 
the dark stripes at the sides of the cephalothorax are wider, and 
the dark rings of the legs more distinct. The second tibize are 
slightly thickened and curved, and five spines on the upper side 
and two on the inner side are thickened and dark-colored. There 
are no spines on the coxe. 


Epeira Nordmanni, Thorell. 

A male from The Glen at the base of Mt. Washington, N. H. is 
9 mm. long, the cephalothorax 5 mm. The dark stripes at the 
sides of the cephalothorax are wider and more definite than in the 
female. The markings of the abdomen are like those of the female, 
but are less distinct. The second tibiz are slightly thickened and 


200 J. H. Emerton, 


curved, and the spines on the upper and inner sides stout and dark- - 
colored. There are no spines on the coxe. 


Epeira thaddeus, Hentz. (Plate V, figures 2, 2a.) 

The males I have seen, from Sharon and Waltham, Mass., are a 
little smaller than females from the same places. The front leg is 
much elongated, the patella and tibia together being as long as the 
spider from eyes to spinnerets. The usual little process on the 
anterior end of the first coxa is lengthened into a spine directed 
forward about half the diameter of the coxa in length. The second 
leg is slightly thicker than the first; the tibia is a little curved, 
and the four spines on the inner side are stouter but not shorter 
than the others on this joint. The color is pale, without any bright 
orange on the legs or dark brown around the abdomen common 
in females. The first and second legs have brown rings at the ends 
of the joints, while the third and fourth have the dark ends of the 
joints less strongly marked than in females. The cephalothorax is 
pale, with a pale gray stripe in the middle. The abdomen does 
not have the brown band around the sides which is so character- 
istic of females, and on the back it is marked with pairs of bright 
yellow spots, the two anterior pairs larger than the others, some- 
what as in £. globosa. Some females have similar markings on 
the back of the abdomen. 


Epeira juniperi, Em. (Plate V, figures 1, 1a.) 

Two males swept from bushes at Ponemah, N. H., were slightly 
greenish on the abdomen, which is striped with white at the sides 
and across the front. The rest of the body was pale and yellowish. 
The ends of the tibia of first and second legs were light orange, 
covering nearly half the joint, but not forming a definite ring. The 
cephalothorax is nearly as wide as long and 2 mm. in length. The 
legs are long and slender, the tibia and patella of the first pair 
measuring 3 mm. The spines of the legs are dark colored and 
very long, especially on the tibial joints; those on the first tibiz 
being half as long as the whole tibia. There are no modifications 
of the second tibia. 


Epeira labyrinthea, Hentz. 

Hentz, in his description of this species, says that a tube, similar 
to that of Agalena, leads from the web to the nest. I have never 
seen such a tube; but often there are several threads, as in Zz/la 
atrica, leading from the center of the round web to the nest, and 


Supplement to the New England Spiders. 201 


the center is drawn tight by them, giving the appearance of a 
funnel-shaped opening to a tube. There is, however, no hole in the 
center of the web, and the cluster of threads may be flat or slightly 
depressed in the form of a gutter. 


Zilla montana. (Plate V, figure 4b.) 

This is a common house spider at Deer Island and at northern 
end of Moosehead Lake, Maine, making its nests like Z. atrica under 
the edges of clapboards. In North Carolina it lives on houses and 
in bushes at the summit of Roan Mountain, and in houses and barns 
at the base of the mountain, near the railroad. 


Zilla atrica, Koch. 
Eucharia atrica, Koch. 1845. (Plate V, figures 4 to 4d.) 

In size and color this resembles the other species. The markings 
of the back of the abdomen resemble closely those of «-notata, but 
the middle of the back is usually lighter, and the two diverging 
dark marks near the anterior end are longer and narrower than in 
x-notata. The cephalothorax has a more distinct dark middle stripe 
than in the other species. In the males the palpi (fig. 4a) are twice 
as long as the cephalothorax, and about twice as long as those of 
x-notata. The front legs of the male are, however, one-eighth shorter 
than those of «-vofata, the front tibia and patella measuring a little 
less than twice the length of the cephalothorax. The form of the 
epigynum is shown in fig. 4b in comparison with those of «-/otata 
and montana. 

The webs are like those of other species with a large central 
spiral from which a strong thread extends to the nest. A large 
segment opposite this thread is usually left open, but is often partly 
or entirely closed. Adults are found from August until winter. 

First noticed by McCook at Annisquam, Mass., about 1885, and 
now found abundantly at Ipswich, Gloucester, Salem, and Lynn, 
where it lives in hedges and on the outside of houses, making 
tubular nests open at both ends under the edges of the clapboards. 
At Ipswich, I| first noticed them on a new cottage near the shore 
far from any other house, in 1900. At that time there were none 
of them on other cottages in the neighborhood or on the old farm- 
house at Lakeman’s beach. In 1904 they were on all the neigh- 
boring houses and barns and in the liliac bushes around them. 


Tetragnatha vermiformis, Em. N. E. Epeiridae. 
Positions of male and female while pairing. Fresh Pond marshes 


202 Jj. H. Emerton, 


Cambride, Mass. Sept. 3. 1901, 8 a. m. in irregular net on marsh- 
grass (Pl. V, fig. 5.) Position of mandibles while pairing (fig. 5a.). 


Pachygnatha tristriata, Keysl. 1882. (Plate V, figures 6 to 6d.) 

This species is not the same as brevis. The size is about the 
same as brevis, but both the cephalothorax and abdomen are slightly 
longer and narrower. The cephalothorax has three stripes in both 
species, but the abdomen of ¢ristriafa has the dorsal marking with 
straight black edges instead of scolloped as in brevis. The four 
middle eyes are raised above the head with the upper pair higher 
than the top of the cephalothorax, while in brevis the eyes are 
lower than the highest part of the cephalothorax. The cluster of 
middle eyes is as far above the mandibles as it is high. In au- 
tumnalis the upper middle eyes are larger than the others and 
farther apart, and the cluster of middle eyes is much higher than 
it is distant from the mandibles. In males the differences are more 
distinct than in females. The male palpi of tvvstriata have the 
tarsus and palpal organ longer and more slender than in 6revts, 
the bulb is narrower, and the tube and narrow end of the tarsus 
are twice as long as they are in drvevis. The tarsal hook of ¢ri- 
striata is straighter and more slender than in dvevis. 

Orono, Me., Salem, and Gloucester, Mass. 


Lycosa avara, Keys. Zool. bot. Ges. Wien, 1876. 
L. rufiventris, Banks. (Plate VU, figures 2, 2a.) 

This spider resembles very closely L. pratensis. The light stripe 
on the cephalothorax widens behind the eyes, and has a middle dark 
line and a broken dark line each side of it as in pratensis. The 
front row of eyes, which in pratensis is straight, has in avara the lateral 
eyes a little lower than the middle pair. The eyes of the second 
row are a little larger than in pratensis, so that it appears slightly 
longer than the first row, while in pratensis it is slightly shorter ; 
the difference is, however, too small to measure and cannot be 
seen in all specimens of pratensis. The two specimens of avara 
examined vary in size as does pratensis. The most distinctive 
character of avara is the form of the epigynum as shown in fig. 2. 
At first sight it shows a pair of round holes, and it is only by 
rubbing away the hairs that the shape of the middle lobe can be 
seen. This is anchor-shaped with the pointed ends curved around 
so that they point directly forward. There is a slight projection in 
the middle. At the front end the middle lobe widens, and its edges 
are continuous with the anterior borders of the two large holes. 


Supplement to the New England Spiders. 203 


Two females were found by Miss E. B. Bryant, one in Allston, 
Mass., and the other at Long Island, Portland, Maine. 


Lycosa frondicola, Em. N. E. Lycoside. 
L. nigroventris, Em. is the male of this species. 

This species and L. Kochii are often found in the same localities. 
They both mature late in autumn and carry their cocoons of eggs 
in May. Fyvondicola is darker brown and less mottled than Kochi. 
The middle stripe of the cephalothorax is straight in frondico/a and 
notched at the sides in Kochi. The young of frondicola are more 
mottled on the legs than the adult and resemble the young of L. cinerea. 
The L. nigroventris described in N. E. Spiders is an unusually large 
male frondicola. The male is usually two thirds the size of the 
female with the under side darker. The legs are lighter and the 
markings on back of abdomen more distinct. 


Lycosa carolinensis, Hentz. 

Mr. W. L. W. Field of Milton, Mass., has watched for many seasons 
a large number of these spiders in a pasture on a gravelly hillside, 
where they make holes six or eight inches deep, sometimes straight 
and sometimes curved irregularly, to avoid large stones. Sometimes 
the mouth of the hole is funnel-shaped, spreading to twice the 
diameter of the lower part of the tube. The males appear only in 
the late summer, and the fertilized females winter in the tubes which 
are closed partly by the wheather, and lay their eggs in the last 
of May or June. In the summer the half-grown spiders are some- 
times found without holes, and they have been known to abandon 
their holes and make new ones. 


Lycosa baltimoriana, Keys. Zool. bot. Ges. Wien, 1876. (Plate VII, 
figures 1, ta, 1b.) 

This is a large and distinctly marked species, the female 15 mm. 
long, the cephalothorax 8 mm. long, and 5.5 mm. wide. The eye 
area is small, occupying one-third the width of the head and 
one-sixth the length of the cephalothorax. The front and second 
rows of eyes are of the same length. The legs are of moderate 
length, as in carolinensis and tigrina. The general color is gray 
like carolinensis with black markings. The cephalothorax has in- 
distinct dark radiating lines. The back of the abdomen has a dark 
spot following the shape of the heart, and behind it two or three 
irregular triangular spots, and along the sides are other irregular 
markings. On the under side of the abdomen is a square black 


Trans. Conn. Acap., Vol. XIV. 14 January, 1909. 


204 J. H. Emerton, 


spot extending from the lung openings back nearly to the spinnerets. 
The sternum is black. The legs are marked with broken dark 
rings. 

The epigynum is narrow in front with two small openings; it is 
widened in the middle and has a small T-shaped end behind, 
PI Vill dios Ab. 

The male palpus is much like that of ZL. mdicola fig. 1e, which 
is from a specimen from Providence, R. I. belonging to Mr. Banks. 

From Woods Hole, Mass., and Simsbury, Conn. 


Lycosa Pikei, Marx. American Naturalist, 1881. 
L. nidifex, Em. N. E. Lycosidae. 
L. arenicola, Scudder. Psyche, Vol. H, 1877, name preoccupied by 
Cambridge in Spiders of Dorset. (Plate VII, figures 3d, 3e.) 
The burrows of this species do not usually have a tube of straw 
or other rubbish around the mouth. The edge of the tube is thickly 
covered with silk, which extends out sometimes an inch around it 
on the surface of the sand. In digging, the surface of the sand is 
first covered thinly with silk. A ball of sand held together by the 
silk is then gathered up and carried to the mouth of the burrow 
in the mandibles; there, without the spider coming out of the hole, 
it is placed on the ends of the front legs, and thrown as far away 
as possible. In full grown spiders this is about two inches, and 
the balls of sand may sometimes be seen in a circle of this radius 
around the hole. When looking for prey, the spider sits with the 
cephalothorax and front of the abdomen out of the hole and the 
feet turned under the body as if dead. A step on the sand within 
ten feet will alarm them and they disappear down the burrow, but 
by creeping slowly without jarring the ground or throwing a shadow 
over the hole, one may get within two feet of the spider without 
disturbing it. The spider will notice an insect moving six or eight 
inches away and will rush out and catch one at that distance, 
returning quickly with it to the burrow. The adult males live part 
of the time in holes like females, and lie out at the top and wait 
for insects in the same way, but in August and September they 
are often found wandering. A male confined over night and then 
turned loose near the burrow of a female at once looked into it, 
reaching down its whole body except the tip of the abdomen and 
the fourth legs. It quickly came out, followed to the mouth of the 
burrow by the female who at once went down again, and returning 
in a few seconds, seated herself in the usual position over the edge 
of the hole. The male then approached slowly with the front of 


Supplement to the New England Spiders. 205 


the body raised, alternately reaching forward the front legs and 
jerking them quickly back until almost near enough to touch the 
female. She then came toward him and struck at him weakly 
with her front legs, but he turned them aside, jumped on her back 
and tried to place his palpus under her. She then attacked him 
in earnest and drove him away, afterward going down in her burrow 
and remaining there, and the male soon wandered away. 

Young an eighth of an inch in length are found in small burrows 
of their own from June to August, and in holes with adult females 
as late as Aug. 10. 


Lycosa nidifex, Marx. American Naturalist, 1881. (Plate VII, 
figures 3 to 3e.) 

In N. E. Lycosidae I have confounded this species with L. prker, 
under the name of mdifex. 

This inland species differs distinctly from Prker and approaches 
L. missourtensis Banks of the South and West. The epigynum and 
palpal organs of these three species are so much alike that they 
cannot be used to distinguish them. In mzdifex the black color of 
the under side of the first leg does not extend inward beyond the 
patella, and the coxe are all light-colored, while in Pyke? the whole 
of the first leg, including the coxa, is black, and in some individuals 
the whole of the second leg. In mdifex the whole upper surface 
of the body is a nearly uniform gray color with indistinct stripes 
on the abdomen, while in Prker the color of both upper and under 
sides is darkest at the head, and gradually lighter backward with 
a distinct pattern on the abdomen. In wdifex the pads on the t#rbia 
and metatarsus are composed of shorter hairs, so that these legs 
look but two thirds as thick as they do in Pyrker. 

L. nidifex usually makes a turret at the opening of its burrow, 
sometimes only a slight ring, but often a tube of sticks or grass 
rising more than its diameter above the surface of the ground. 
Like Pike: the spider sits at the mouth of its burrow with the feet 
turned under and the head high enough to see the surrounding 
country. The burrows are often not more than eight or ten inches 
deep, sometimes curved to avoid stones. The turrets are most 
conspicuous in October and November, after the surrounding grass 
has withered. The burrows remain open all winter, the immature 
spiders lying partly torpid at the bottom. Freshly matured males 
and females are found in May. 


206 J. Ht. Emerton, 


Lycosa punctulata, Hentz. (Plate VII, figures 4, 4a.) 

The legs of both sexes are shorter than in scutulata. In the male 
the first and second legs are not as much elongated as in scutulata, 
and the first legs are not darker than the others. The stripe on 
the abdomen is straight in both sexes, without light spots along 
the edges as in scutulata. The under side of the abdomen has 
irregular black spots which are wanting in scutulata. The palpal 
organs are shaped much as in scwtulata, but the tarsi and all the 
joints of the palpi are a little shorter and stouter than in that species. 

Framingham, Mass., Sept. 29, 1906. 


Lycosa relucens, Montgomery. Proc. Phil. Acad. Nat. Sci, 1902. 
(Plate VI, figures, ta, Lb.) 

This species matures early in the season and is common around 
Boston in April in open woods. Its general color is that of dried 
leaves, and it resembles small individuals of L. frondicola. The length 
is 8 mm., the cephalothorax 4 mm. or a little less. The cephalo- 
thorax has a straight white middle stripe, the width of the middle 
eyes extending from them backward and slightly narrowed behind. 
There is a narrower white stripe near the edge each side, some- 
times broken and indistinct in females, and straighter and more 
distinct in males. The legs are pale yellowish brown, with the 
femora faintly marked with gray rings that are sometimes absent, 
especially in males. The abdomen is indistinctly marked with pairs 
of gray spots and oblique lines. The epigynum has the common 
T-shape as wide as long, and a single arched opening in front, 
Fig. 1b. The male palpus has the tibia thickened so that it is 
nearly as wide as the tarsus. The tube of the palpal organ is 
abruptly curved forward, and a thin supporting appendage lies along 
the side of the tarsal cavity without extending beyond its edge. 
At the base of the tube is a large thick appendage extending 
forward, Figo. 1a. 


> 


New Haven, Conn., Mass., Lake Champlain, Vt. 


Lycosa crassipalpis, new (Plate VI, figures 3, 3a.) 

Three small males from Ipswich, Mass., and one from Portland, 
Me., are only 6 mm. long and the cephalothorax 3mm. The male 
palpi have the tibia thickened as in re/ucens, but the tarsus and 
palpal organ are proportionally smaller and not wider than the tibia. 
The legs are pale without any gray rings on the femora. The 
lateral white lines on the cephalothorax are well defined and re- 
moved more than their width from the edge as they are in dzline- 


Supplement to the New England Spiders. 207 


ata. The sternum has a light middle line for half its length, which 
shows indistinctly in the darker specimens. 


Lycosa bilineata. 

Pardosa bilineata, Em. N. E. Lycoside. 

Lycosa ocreata, pulchra, Montgomery. Proc. Phil. Acad. Nat. Sci., 
1902. (Plate VI, figures 4, 4a, 4b.) 

The female of this species was described in N. E. Lycoside, from 
New Haven, Conn., without the male being known. This was later 
found at Cold Spring Harbor on Long Island. The female resembles 
in color and markings Pardosa pallida more than it does its nearest 
relative, Lycosa ocreata. It is 6 mm. long, with the cephalothorax 
3.5 mm. The colors are light yellow and brown, with gray hairs 
on the legs and abdomen. The cephalothorax has three pale stripes, 
the middle one as wide as second row of eyes, the lateral half as 
wide and a little above the edge. The legs are pale yellow without 
any markings except faint traces of rings on the femora. The 
markings on the abdomen are like those of ocreata: a dark pointed 
stripe in the middle bordered by light stripes, outside of which are 
rows of dark spots. The colors of the male are the same except the 
tibia and end of the metatarsus of the first leg, which are deep black 
and surrounded by stiff black hairs, Fig. 4a. The epigynum is 
much like that of re/ucens, T-shaped, and as wide as long. The 
male palpi have the tibia slightly enlarged, but not as much as 
in relucens or ocreata. ‘The palpal organ is like that of re/ucens, 
with the appendage supporting the end of the tube longer, so 
that it projects out over the edge of the tarsus, and the large thick 
terminal appendage is wanting. 


Pardosa littoralis, Banks. (Plate VI, figures 5, da, 5b.) 

This species described by Banks from Long Island, N. Y., where 
it is common, has now been found at Ipswich and Plum Island, 
Mass. The females are 7 mm. long, with the cephalothorax 3 mm. 
It is not as slender as pallida and nigropalpis, but has the proportions 
of glacials, the young of which it much resembles, Fig. 5. 

The color is pale yellow with gray markings. The legs are yellow 
without markings. The cephalothorax has a narrow black line each 
side and two wide dark stripes leaving a light stripe on each side 
and a less defined one in the middle. The abdomen has a middle 
light stripe with indented edges, and the sides are marked with 
light mixed with gray. In the male all the dark markings are 
darker than in the female. 


208 J. Hi. Emerton, 


The epigynum resembles that of xzzgropal/pis but is shorter and 
stouter, Fig. 5b. 

The male palpus also resembles that of migropalpis, Fig. 5a, which 
I have figured from a Long Island specimen belonging to Mr. Banks. 


Pardosa diffusa, new. (Plate VI, figures 6, 6a, 6b.) 

Two males from Ipswich and Hyde Park, Mass. are distinguished 
from the ordinary male mgropalpis, even when running on the ground, 
by the darker color of the cephalothorax. The middle light band 
is narrow, and hardly shows in front of the dorsal groove. The 
light bands at the sides are very narrow and close to the edge. The 
legs are marked on the femora with broken rings darker and closer 
together from behind forward, the first femora being almost black. 
In the palpal organs the basal process is shorter and does not have 
the long curved hook which crosses the tube in mgvropalpis, 
Fig. 6a. No mature females have been found in company with 
this, but females found in August without males in Massachusetts 
and Maine are supposed to belong to the same species. 

The epigynum differs plainly from that of nzigropalpis and albo- 
patella. The anterior pit is rounder and wider, and the transverse 
posterior end is much wider than in the other species. The females 
differ in markings from uigropalpis and albopatella in the same way 
as the males. 

Males from Ipswich, Hyde Park, and Sharon, Mass. 

Females from Medford, Mass., Northern Maine, and Long Is- 
land, N. Y. 


Pirata insularis, Em. N. E. Lycosidae (Plate VI, fig. 7). 
A new figure is given of the markings of this species from a 
specimen from Danvers, Mass. 


Pirata arenicola, new. (Plate VI, figures 9 to 9c.) 

Female 6mm. and male 4mm. long. In the female the lateral 
light stripes are wide and extend over the edge of the cephalo- 
thorax, but in the male the edge of the cephalothorax is marked 
with a broken dark band. The legs are pale and faintly ringed 
with gray. On the under side the female is entirely pale, and the 
male has three gray lines on the abdomen. 

The epigynum has two oblique lobes behind slightly pointed on 
the inner ends. 

The male palpi have the tarsi shorter than in P. sylvestris more as 
in piraticus. The appendages of the palpal organ are all small, 


Supplement to the New England Spiders. 209 


the terminal process as usual divided into two branches, the outer 
straight and opaque, the inner thin and transparent and turned 
across the tarsus. 

Ipswich, Mass., June 6, 1903. 


Pirata maculatus, new. (Plate VI, figures 10, 10a, 10b.) 

6 mm. long, the same size and much like P. montanus. The 
markings are the same as in montanus, but the dark portions are 
much darker, and the rings on the legs more distinct than in any 
other species. The dark markings of the under side are also more 
prominent than usual; there is a distinct light middle stripe on the 
sternum, and a light area in the middle of the abdomen, bordered 
at the sides with black and partly divided by a middle dark stripe, 
narrow in front and widened behind. The hinder part of the epigynum 
is divided into two lobes, slightly pointed in the middle, and showing 
no opening on the outer side. 

Moosehead Lake, Me., Aug. 7. Females with eggs. 


Pirata sylvestris, new. (Plate VI, figures 8 to 8c.) 

Female 8 mm. long; male 5mm. long. In the female the usual 
three light marks behind the eyes are very narrow, but the light 
marks at the sides are wide and extend to the edge of the cephalo- 
thorax. In the male the edges of the cephalothorax are dark and 
the lateral light markings narrow. The abdomen has the usual gray 
color with a light middle stripe in the anterior half, and four pairs 
of bright white spots covered with white hairs and indistinct white 
lines on the sides and along the sides of the middle stripe. The 
sternum is pale without stripes. The under side of the abdomen is 
in some individuals pale, while in others there are traces of three 
dark stripes. The legs are pale without rings. The epigynum has 
the usual two lobes behind bluntly pointed on the inner corners 
where they are partly covered by a middle bunch of fine white 
hairs. In some light colored females the spermathecz show through 
the skin near the outer corners of the lobes. 

The tarsus of the male palpus is slender. The palpal organ has 
the usual two small appendages in the middle, one slender and the 
other a short and stout tooth. The terminal process is long and 
curved in quarter of a circle, with the transparent inner branch 
showing beyond the outer which is thicker and darker. 


210 J. H. Emerton, 


Dolomedes sexpunctatus, Hentz. (Plate VII, figures 6, 6a, 6b.) 

A male from Wellesley, Mass. has the cephalothorax 5 mm. long 
and the same in width. The hind leg 23 mm. The spider had been 
put in alcohol very soon after moulting and the legs and palpi are 
probably not fully extended. The markings are like those of the 
female and the colors like a young and pale female preserved in 
the same way. 

The male palpus has a long process on the outside of the tibia 
nearly as long as the joint itself. It is thin and flat, widened and 
rounded at the end, and has a small tooth on the under side near 
the base. The end of the tibia is shrunken and should no doubt 
be wider at the end than at the base, as it is in a Tennessee spe- 
cimen apparently of the same species. The palpal organ is like 
that of D. fontanus. 

A nest of this species was feund at Amherst, Mass., Sept. 5, 1905 
on golden rod two feet above the ground. The nest was about 
three inches in diameter, and the young spiders, early in the mor- 
ning, were gathered in the lower part of it. The female was on 
the plants a short distance below the nest. 


Dolomedes fontanus, Em. New Eng. Lycoside. 

The male of this species was described and figured in New Eng- 
land Lycoside in 1885. The female was described in the same 
paper under the name of D. tenebrosus. 

‘Marx in a note in his catalogue of N. American Spiders in 1890 
gave his opinion that these were male and female of the same 
species, which a study of more specimens has shown to be correct. 

The female has the cephalothorax 9 mm. long and 8 mm. wide, 
and the abdomen varies from 10 mm. to 15mm. The eyes of the 
front row are small and the middle pair only slightly larger than 
the lateral, while in zdoneus the middle pair are twice as large. 
The epigynum, which is correctly figured in N. E. Lycoside, has a 
narrow middle lobe bluntly pointed behind. The color in alcohol 
inclines to be olive, while in zdoneus it is reddish brown. The 
marginal white stripes on the cephalothorax in life connect together 
in front of the head. The light middle stripe, which is distinct on 
the cephalothorax of /foxtanus, is less so in idoneus. The sternum 
of fontanus has a distinct light middle stripe which is absent or 
very indistinct in zdoneus. 

The male is smaller than the female, with the legs more slender 
but as long as those of the female. The cephalothorax is as wide 


od 


as long, measuring 7 mm. The first and fourth legs are of the same 


Supplement to the New England Spiders. 241 


length, 36 mm. The palpi are 9 mm. long with the tibia straight 
and with a forked process in the middle of the outer side. The 
tarsus and palpal organ have been correctly figured in N. E. Lycoside. 

This species seems to be common as far south as the mountains 
of North Carolina. On Lake Champlain, Vt, and Lake Winnipesaukee, 
N. H., it matures about July 1, when it is common along the shore 
under loose stones and the floats of boat landings. It runs on the 
surface of the water and on the bottom, carrying a large amount of air 
adhering to its hairs. It remains under only a short time, coming 
quickly to the shore as soon as it has escaped pursuit. 


‘Dolomedes idoneus, Montgomery. Proc. Phila. Acad. Nat. Sci., 
Nov. 1902. (Plate VII, figure 8.) 

The female of this species is of the same size as fonfanus and 
has similar markings, but the color in alcoho] is reddish brown in- 
stead of olive gray, which is usual in fontanus. The shape of the 
head is the same as in fontanus, and the arrangement of the eyes 
is the same, the only difference being in the size of the front middle 
eyes, which in this species are twice as large as the laterals of the 
same row. The shape of the epigynum is characteristic of this 
species, even when half grown. The middle lobe is round and 
swells out beyond the surface of the abdomen, and there is a distinct 
opening on each side between it and the lateral lobes. 

The male has not been described. 

Females have been found at Lake Champlain, Vt., and at Sims- 
bury and New Haven, Conn. 


Dolomedes urinator, Hentz. Montgomery, Proc. Acad. Nat. Sci, 
Philadelphia, 1904. 

The male spider described by me in 1885 as the male of D. 
lenebrosus appears to be urinator or lanceolatus, Hentz. I have not 
found females but have one from Pennsylvania sent me by Mr. 
Montgomery. 

An immature male from Milton, Mass., resembles closely the draw- 
ing of D. lanceolatus by Hentz. It has the tuft of stiff hairs on 
the femur of the fourth leg, like the mature males that I have de- 
scribed. 


Dolomedes vernalis, new. (Plate VII, figures 7 to 7d.) 

Males from Falmouth, Me., and Three Mile Island, Lake Winni- 
pesaukee, N. H. Cephalothorax 3 to 4mm. in length and a little 
less in width. Fourth and first legs 16 to 18mm. The colors are 


212 J. H. Emerton, 


pale yellow and gray. The cephalothorax is dark in the middle 
and light at the sides, with light gray spots over the coxe. The 
dark middle area extends forward between the eyes to the front 
edge of the head, dividing into two below the eyes. The mandibles 
are striped on the front with black. The abdomen is light at the 
sides, and the middle dark marks are united into a broad stripe 
with irregularly indented edges. The legs are marked with broken 
dark rings, the femur and the tibia having parts of four rings each. 
The sternum is dark around the edges, and the whole under side 
of the abdomen is gray, darkest at the sides, with two indistinct 
light lines converging toward the spinnerets. The tibia of the male 
palpus is as short as the patella. The process of the tibia is as 
long as the diameter of the joint. It is flat and widened at the 
end, hollowed in at the middle, and with the corners sharp, and 
sometimes two little teeth in the hollow. The palpal organ resem- 
bles that of the other species. 

A female just moulted, from Three Mile Island, Lake Winni- 
pesaukee, N. H., May 25, 1905. Cephalothorax 6.5 mm. and abdomen 
the same length; fourth and first legs 24 mm. Colors and markings 
like those of male. The epigynum resembles that of D. doneus 
with the middle portion not as prominent, and the pockets at the 
sides more open. 

At Three Mile Island, between May 20 and 27, 1905, one female 
and several males made their last moult. They were under stones 
and loose boards lying on the ground near the shore. 


Oxyopes scalaris (Hentz) Em. 

This species was found again at Durham, N. H., in June 1904. It 
resembles closely a species found commonly on the Pacific Coast 
from British Columbia to California. 


-Ccobius.parietalis. 
Thalamia parietalis, Hentz. Journal Boston Soc. Nat. Hist. (Plate VIII, 
neoures, 4 to e3) 

2.5 mm. long, pale and translucent, with black spots on the head 
and legs and around the sides of cephalothorax and abdomen. The 
cephalothorax is as wide as long, and almost circular. The eyes 
are on the top of the head in two nearly straight rows, the front 
row shorter than the upper, and the front middle eyes farther apart 
than they are from the lateral eyes. The upper middle eyes are 
not round but irregularly oval, largest from front to back. The 
head extends forward a little beyond the eyes, and under this 


Supplement to the New England Spiders. 213 


projection are the mandibles which are very small. The maxille 
are inclined toward each other, over the short and rounded labium. 
The sternum is as wide as long. The abdomen is oval, as wide 
as the cephalothorax, and one-half longer. It is marked with irreg- 
ular opaque white spots, a black line around the front end and 
several pairs of black spots, Fig 1. The shape of the end of the 
abdomen and the arrangement of the spinnerest are very peculiar 
in this genus. At the end of the abdomen behind the anus is an 
oval appendage surrounded by a single row of curved hairs of the 
same thickness throughout their length, and rounded at the end. 
The hinder pair of the spinnerets are their length apart, and extend 
backward so as to be seen for nearly their whole length from above. 
The spinning tubes extend along the under side. The cribellum is 
slightly divided by a notch in the middle. The calamistrum consists 
of two parallel rows of ten or twelve sligthly curved hairs, extend- 
ing half the length of the fourth metatarsus. The legs are all about 
the same length, and the feet have three. claws. The epigynum 
has a double tube directed backward and resting in a shallow 
groove on the under side of the abdomen. The male has the legs 
longer and the abdomen smaller, but otherwise resembles the fe- 
male. The male palpus has very short patella and tibia, and the 
tarsus is wide and oval, and the palpal organ thick and furnished 
with a cluster of short appendages near the base. 

This Gcodius lives in houses and on walls and fences. It makes 
a flat web one to two inches long and half as wide, fastened at 
several points around the edges, leaving open spaces through which 
the spider can run in and out. The spider stands on the wall be- 
hind and not on the web. 

It has been known since the time of Hentz in the Southern States, 
but has lately been found in a house in Roxbury, a suburb of Boston, 
where it seems to be well established around window frames and 
behind furniture. 

Scotolathys pallidus (Marx) Simon. 
Neophanes pallidus, Marx. Proc. Ent. Soc. Wash., 1891. (Plate VIII, 
figures 2 to 2d.) 

1.6 mm. to 2 mm. long and pale and translucent without any 
markings. The cephalothorax is shaped like that of amaurobius. 
The abdomen is slightly larger and wider than the cephalothorax 
and a little wider behind than in front. The eyes are six in number, 
large for the size of the spider, all about the same size and arranged 
in two groups. The cribellum is small, about as wide as one of 


214 Jj. H. Emerton, 


the anterior spinnerets. The calamistrum consists of seven or eight 
pairs of hairs about the diameter of the leg in length, Fig. 2c. The 
coxe of the fourth legs are more than their diameter apart, and the 
end of the sternum extends backward beyond them in a blunt point, 
Fig. 2d. The epigynum shows externally two round spermathece, 
each crossed by an opaque spot, and in some specimens spiral tubes 
can he seen connecting with them. The male palpi resemble those 
of Dictyna. The tube of the palpal organ coils around the edge 
of the tarsus, where it is supported by a wide thin appendage; it 
curves around the base of the tarsus to the upper end, where it is 
twisted and rests against a blunt process of the tibia. 

These little spiders live under leaves and are found by sifting in 
company with various Erigonez. They have been fond in various 
places around New Haven Connecticut and at Three mile Island, 
Lake Winnipesaukee, and Fitzwilliam, N. H. 


Amaurobius borealis, new. (Plate VIII, figures 3 to 3d.) 

Female 5 mm. and male 4 mm. long. The cephalothorax and 
legs are yellow brown, the legs darker toward the tips and the 
cephalothorax darker around the edges, but little toward the head. 
The abdomen is reddish brown with an indistinct pattern. The 
cribellum is small, not wider than the length of the first spinnerets 
and is indistinctly divided in the middle. It is on a slight elevation 
just back of the spiracle. The calamistrum occupies half the length 
of the metatarsus. The epigynum has a wide middle lobe, covered 
at the ends by the lateral lobes. The male palpus has the patella 
as wide as long, with one stout spine projecting over the tibia. The 
tibia is curved and has the usual complications shown in the figures. 

Fitzwilliam, N. H., abundant near the Rhododendrons. Portland, 
Me., under leaves on the ground. Mature in May; females with 
eggs in July. 


Orchestina saltitans, Banks. Ent. News, 1894, p. 300. (Plate I, 
figures 4, 4a, 4b.) 
Cellar of Boston Soc. Nat. Hist. building, March 6, 1889. Found 
by Banks in house at Sea Cliff, Long Island, N. Y. 


Micaria laticeps, new. (Plate X, figures 4 to 4c.) 

One male of this species was found under a stone at New Haven, 
Conn. The length is 3 mm. The cephalothorax is a little higher 
than in the other species, and the head nearly as wide as the widest 
part of the thorax. The eyes of the upper row are at equal dis- 


Supplement to the New England Spiders. 215 


tances apart, and the whole group of eyes wide in proportion to 
the width of the head. The abdomen is oval and slightly indented 
in the middle. The colors are all dark, and were not noticed when 
the specimen was fresh. The cephalothorax is of the usual brown, 
and the legs the same color with the ends of the first and second 
pairs lighter. The abdomen seems to have been lighter in front 
of the depression, but there are no distinct markings to be seen in 
its present condition. The male palpi have no process on the tibia. 
The palpal organ is prominent as in gutnquenotata. 


Micaria quinquenotata, new. (Plate X, figures 1 to 1e.) 

This species lives in sandy places, sometimes in company with /ongi- 
pes, which it resembles in color and habits. It is smaller than /ongzpes, 
measuring 4 mm. in length, the cephalothorax between 14 and 2 mm. 
in length. The cephalothorax is shorter and the head narrower than 
in /ongipes and the lateral eyes are nearer the middle pairs, Fig. 1a. 
The sternum and the legs are slightly shorter than in /ongzpes. 

The legs and cephalothorax are light orange brown, with scattered 
shining hairs of the same color. The abdomen is covered with 
iridescent scales, yellow in front, and darker toward the hinder end. 
The colors vary in different individuals and some are greenish gray 
as in /ongipes. There are two pairs of white spots on the abdomen, 
one pair in the middle and another at the front end, and just behind 
the front pair is a middle white spot of about the same size, Fig. 1. 

The epigynum differs little from that of /ongipes, but is usually 
less regular in shape. The male palpi also are like those of /on- 
gipes with a similar process on the tibia, Fig. 1a. 

This species is common on the sand dunes at Ipswich, Mass., 
among the roots of sand grass. It matures about the first of June, 
when both sexes are active, running about on the sand from one 
bunch of grass to another, or hiding under any loose object lying 
on the ground. The cocoons which are found early in June are 
white and thin, and contain about eight eggs. 

In pairing the male holds the female by the first and second 
legs around the thorax between her third and fourth, reaches his 
head under her and inserts the palpus of the same side as the 
clasping legs, Fig. 4. 


Micaria gentilis, Banks. Canadian Entomologist, 1896. (Plate X, 
figures 3 to 3d.) 

Mature males and females have been found from the middle of 

May to the first of July at Portland, Me., and at Monhegan, Me. 


216 J. H. Emerton, 


The cephalothorax is shaped as in guimquenotata, a little narrowed 
in front and not much elongated. In some individuals the cephalo- 
thorax is unusually narrowed behind, so that the widest part is in 
front of the middle. The cephalothorax is a little less than 2 mm. 
long. The abdomen is oval without any constriction in the middle, 
sometimes in females twice as long as it is wide, in males not 
much longer than the cephalothorax. 

The color of the cephalothorax varies from light brown to black, 
covered with light shining hairs not very close together. The first 
and second legs have the femora dark like the cephalothorax, and 
the other joints light yellow. The third and fourth legs are brown, 
the femora darker. The sternum is dark brown and the front coxe 
are the same color; the other coxz are partly light colored; the 
fourth pair almost entirely light yellow. The abdomen is covered 
with dark green iridescent scales, with a narrow white band across 
tho middle, and in some individuals another transverse white band 
near the front end, but this is oftener broken into two short white 
streaks at the side. 

The epigynum has.a large opening in front, covered by a wide 
rim with a dark colored edge, Fig. 3d. 

The male palpi have no process on the tibia. The palpal organ 
is flatter than it is in /ongipes and quinquenotata, but has a hook 
in the middle as in those species. 


Castaneira lineata, new. (Plate X, figures 5, 5a, 5b.) 

This small species has the general appearance of a Micaria. It 
measures 6 mm. in length, the cephalothorax nearly 3 mm. The 
cephalothorax is twice as long as wide, widest in the middle and 
narrower behind than in front. It is shghtly indented at the sides 
between the second and third, and between the third and fourth 
legs, Fig. 5. The head is three-fourths as wide as the thorax, 
wider than in the other species, and the eyes are farther apart. 
The upper eyes are equidistant and cover three-fifths of the width 
of the head. The sternum is narrowed and pointed behind, more 
than it is in the other species. The abdomen is a little longer than 
the cephalothorax, widest behind and a little constricted in the 
middle. The pedicel is as long as wide and can be seen from 
above between cephalothorax and abdomen. 

The color of the cephalothorax is dull orange asin Micaria longipes. 
The femora are marked with two longitudinal dark stripes as in 
M. longipes and C. bivittata. The other joints of the legs are orange 


Supplement to the New England Spiders. 217 


yellow, except the ends of the fourth legs, which are somewhat 
darker. . 

The abdomen is lighter in front and has two white spots at the 
sides, nearly meeting in the middle. 

The epigynum resembles that of C. pinata with two small holes 
wide apart. 

One female from low bushes in Sharon, Mass., July 7, 1902. 


Prosthesima rufula, Banks. Phil. Acad. 1892. (Plate IX, figures 
6 to 6h.) 

7 to 8 mm. long; cephalothorax 3 mm. A little smaller than 
P. atra and more slender. The cephalothorax is narrower across 
the middle and less pointed in front. and the legs are more slender 
and the front pair less distinctly larger than the others. The sternum 
is narrower than in P. atra. 

The color is light reddish brown without markings, the abdomen 
paler than the rest. 

The epigynum varies in shape, the edge in front varying from 
nearly straight to the shapes shown in the figures. 

The male palpus has a process on the outer side of the tibia, that 
lies along the edge of the tarsus for about a third its length and 
is shghtly twisted at the tip. The tube of the palpal organ is on 
the outer side and extends nearly straight the whole length of the 
tarsus. 

New Haven, Conn., and Cold Spring Harbor, L. I. N. Y. 


Pecilochroa montana, Em. N. E. Drasside, etc., Trans. Conn. Acad. 
1890. (Plate IX, figures 4, 4a, 4b.) 

The female of this species was described in 1890 from the White 
Mountains, but only lately the male has been found on the Blue 
Hills near Boston. The individual is probably a small one and 
measures only 5mm. in length. The cephalothorax is shorter and 
rounder than in variegata, and the legs proportionally a little longer. 
The difference in shape of the cephalothorax in these two species 
is shown in the sternum, which in montana is distinctly wider than 
in variegata, Fig. 4a. The color is less brilliant than in variegata, 
the orange of the latter species being absent. The cephalothorax 
is dark brown, covered with white hairs. The femora and basal 
joints of all the legs are dark brown or black and the other joints 
light yellow. The abdomen is black with a narrow white band 
across the middle, a wider white band across the front end, with 
a little black showing in front of it, and a white band at the hinder 


218 J. H. Emerton, 


end over the spinnerets. The male palpi resemble those of varie- 
gata, but have the process of the tarsus a little stouter and more 
curved at the tip. 


Gnaphosa parvula, Banks. Proc. Am. Ent. Soc., 1896. (Plate IX, 
figures 3, 3a, 3b.) 

This species is a little smaller than drumalis, the largest female 
measuring 8 mm. long, and the cephalothorax 3.5mm. The color 
is the same rusty black as in the other two species. The lateral 
eyes of the upper row are placed as in drumalis, not as far from 
the middle eyes as in conspersa. The epigynum resembles that of 


conspersa more than brumalis, Fig. 3. The male palpi have the 


process of the tibia half as long as the tarsus, with the tip sharply | 


pointed and a little curved, Fig. 3a. The palpal organ resembles 
that of brumals, but the tube does not have a tooth at its base 
as in brumalis, Fig. 3b. 

Ipswich, Mass. mature male and females, May 20. Described by 
Banks from Hanover, N. H. 


Drassus hiemalis, new. (Plate IX, figures 1 to 1d.) 

This species is a little smaller than vodustus. The cephalothorax 
is 83mm. long and a little narrower at the head than in rodbustus, 
and the lateral eyes are a trifle nearer together than in that species. 
The abdomen is a little more elongated than in robustus, and the 
epigynum farther back. 

The epigynum is shaped somewhat as in vodustus, but the lateral 
ridges are much thinner and lower, and in front of them is a trans- 
verse depression with a hard and dark colored rim, Fig. 1d. The 
colors are the same as in vodustus, but lighter than most specimens 
of the latter species. 

The males are the same size as the females. The male palpus 
has a process on the upper side of the tibia which is nearly straight, 
not curved as in vodustus, and extends over the tarsus one-third 
its length. The palpal organ has several hard brown processes fhat 
cover the surface and nearly conceal the end of the tube. 

From Blue Hill and from Hammonds Pond, Brookline, under leaves 
in winter. Three Mile Island, May 25, adult males and females. 


Drassus bicornis, new. (Plate IX, figures 2, 2a, 2b.) 

Slightly smaller than D. hiemalis. The cephalothorax 2.5 mm. 
long, but form and color are the same, and there is nothing to 
distinguish these two species except the epigynum and palpi. The 


Supplement to the New England Spiders. 219 


epigynum has a large oval opening divided at the posterior end 
into two. The hard brown part around the hole extends forward 
on each side like a pair of horns turning toward each other at 
the ends. 

The male palpi have a long process on the upper side of the 
tibia that extends over the tarsus for a third of its length. It is 
narrowed in the middle and obliquely truncated at the end. The 
palpal organ is hard and brown, smooth around the base, and 
divided at the end into a complicated group of processes, Pl. IX, 
fig. 2a. 

Three Mile Island, Lake Winnipesaukee, N. H. 


Clubiona spiralis. (Plate X, figures 10, 10a, 10b, 10c.) 

6 mm. long, fourth leg, 9mm. Larger than C. rubra and longer 
legged, but resembling it in the short mandibles and the arrange- 
ment of the eyes with the upper middle pair farther apart than 
they are from the lateral eyes. The male palpi have a general 
resemblance to those of rubra, but the double lateral process is 
differently shaped, round at the base and with the tip sharp and 
curved upward. The tarsus and palpal organ are more elongated 
than in rubra, and the large black process more slender. The only 
specimen found is pale, even to the mandibles. 

Magnolia, Mass. 

Two females, one from Ipswich, Mass. and one from the Blue 
Hills appear to belong to this species. They are the same size 
and color and have the same eye arrangement, with the legs shorter 
and stouter, us usual in females of this genus. The epigynum is 
shown in Fig. 10c. -It has a partly divided transverse opening 
turned forward. 


Clubiona prematura, new. (Plate X, figures 7, 7a, 7b.) 

In N. E. Spiders of the Family Drassidez, etc. this species is con- 
founded with C. ornata (Americana Bks.), on account of the distinct 
dorsal markings of the female which until recently was the only 
sex known. It is a little smaller than orvata, the cephalothorax of 
the female being 2.2 mm. long, and the abdomen from 4 mm. when 
filled with eggs, to 3mm. after the eggs have been laid. The color 
is pale, with the cephalothorax slightly darkened on the head and 
mandibles. ‘The abdomen has a pattern similar to that of ornata, 
but less distinct. The arrangement of the eyes is similar to that 
of ornata, the upper middle pair being only slightly farther apart 
than they are from the lateral eyes. The shape of the border of 


Trans. Conn. Acan., Vol. XIV. 15 January, 1909. 


220 J. H. Emerion, 


the epigynum is constant and characteristic. It does not extend 
backward in a point as in ornata and rubra, but is transverse with 
a deep notch in the middle, Fig. 7b. 

The male has the cephalothorax narrower in front than the fe- 
male, and the palpi short, with little resemblance to those of ornata. 
The tibia is widened into a large process on the outer side, without 
any sharp teeth. The tube of the palpal organ is short and turned 
backward, and the other appendages are short and blunt, Fig. 7 

This species is very abundant under stones all over the top of 
the Mt. Washington range. The females make thin silk nests and 
lay their eggs about the first of July, by which time the males are 
scarce. 


Agreca pratensis, Em. Trans. Conn. Acad., 1890. 

Females with epigynum like A. repens Em. Trans. Conn. Acad., 
1894, have been fond in several New England localities at the same 
time with males of pratensis which makes it probable that pratensis 
and repens are one species with two forms of epigynum. 


Anyphena rubra, Em. N. E. Drasside. Trans. Conn. Acad., 1890. 
(Plate IX, figures 8 to 8c.) 

The males of this species as well as the adult females are rarely 
found, because they mature very early in the season. A young 
male that had wintered under leaves was taken in Franklin Park, 
Boston, April 17. and moulted April 22. 

The males differ but little from the females in size and color, 
but as usual are a little more slender and have longer legs and 
longer and straighter mandibles. The male palpi have a long pro- 
cess on the outer side of the tarsus, curved outward and slightly 
notched at the end, and in some individuals sharply pointed. The 
palpal organ swells out from the tarsus at the base. The tube 
begins on the inner side and curves around the base of the palpal 
organ and along the outer side of the tarsus nearly to the tip, Fig. 8. 


Apostenus acutus, new. (Plate IX, figures 7 to 7c.) 

Immature males 4 mm. long. An adult male, which is dried and 
shrunken is of the same size. The cephalothorax is oval and much 
narrowed in front, so that the head is only one-third as wide as 
the widest part of the thorax. The eyes are low and arranged as in 
Agraca pratensis, except that the front middle pair are much smaller. 
The front row is slightly curved upward, the middle eyes less than 


+ 


Supplement to the New England Spiders. 221 
fon) 


half as large as the lateral. The upper row is more curved; the 
eyes all about equal in size, and the same distances apart. The 
lateral eyes of the two rows are near each other, but do not touch. 
The legs are long, with long spines, the fourth pair longest. The 
tibiz of the first and second legs are thickened and have on the 
under side two pairs of long spines under the metatarsi. The 
sternum is almost circular with a slight point behind between the 
fourth coxee. 

The colors are translucent white and dark gray, like Phrurolithus 
alarius, but usually darker. The cephalothorax is light in the middle, 
with black edges and radiating dark lines. The abdomen is dark, 
with a series of pairs of light spots down the back. On the under 
side the sternum and coxe are light and the abdomen spotted ir- 
regularly with dark gray. The male palpi in an individual that 
has been dried have the tibia and patella of about the same length. 
The tibia has a stout process on the outer side that turns inward 
against the base of the tarsus. The tarsus is oval, and the palpal 
organ long and thick. The tube seems to start near the outer end 
and curve around toward the inner side. 

Adults were found at New Haven, Conn., May 1, and young 
males at Cold Spring Harbor, April 10. 


Coelotes calcaratus, Keys. Zool. bot. Ges. Wien, 1887. 
Celotes longitarsus, Em. Trans. Conn. Acad., 1890. 

On Plate VII, Vol. VIU, fig. 2a is not the epigynum of this species 
but that of Czcurina arcuata. A correct figure of the epigynum 
of C. calcaratus is given in Common Spiders of the U. S. by J. H. 
Emerton 1902, page 104, fig. 242. 


Cicurina arcuata, pallida and brevis. (Plate VIII, figures 6 and 7e.) 

The three species of Cicurina live under dead leaves on the 
ground at all seasons, all three being sometimes found in the same 
locality. C. arcuata Keys. = complicata Em. is the largest and most 
deeply colored, with the abdomen covered with gray oblique marks. 
C. pallida is of the same shape and a little smaller, without mark- 
ings. It is less common than the other two. C. brevis = Tegenaria 
brevis Em. = C. creber Banks, is smaller than the others and pale, 
with two rows of gray spots on the abdomen. The cephalothorax 
of the male is rounder and the head narrower than in the female, 
and more so than in the males of other species. All the species 
have very complicated palpal organs and a large appendage of the 
tibia of the palpus which lies against the tarsus and is not easily 


229 j. H. Emerton, 


distinguished from parts of the palpal organ. In P. arcuata this 
appendage is as long as the palpal organ and nearly as wide. In 
C. brevis it is narrow but longer than the rest of the tibia. This 
appendage was not noticed in my description of 7eg. brevis but is 
correctly described by Banks under C. creber in the Spiders of 
Ithica. In C. pallida, although it is larger than dvevis, the palpal 
organ is smaller, and the appendage of the tibia reaches only to 
its base. 


Cicurina arcuata, Keys. Zool. bot. ges. Wien, 1887. 
Cicurina complicata, Em. Trans. Conn. Acad., 1890. 

In New England Agalenide &c. Trans. Conn. Acad., 1890, Pl. VII, 
fig. 2a is the epigynum of this species, not of Coelotes longitarsus. 


Cicurina pallida, Keys. Zool. Botan. Ges. Wien, 1887. (Plate VII, 
Heures. 7 tO iC.) 

5 mm. long and pale and without markings. The cephalothorax 
is 2.5 mm. in length and 1.5mm. wide, the head only a little narrower 
in the male than in the female. The epigynum is smaller than that 
of C. brevis and the parts seen through the skin rounder. The tarsi 
of the male palpus are as long as those of brevis, but more pointed 
and the palpal organ is smaller and more simple, though resembling 
in its general structure that of brevis. The process of the tibia 
which is so long and conspicuous im complicata and in brevis, is in 
pallida but little longer than the rest of the tibia, Pl. VIII, fig. 7. 

Found under leaves at Sharon and Northfield, Mass., in company 
with brevis and complicata. 


Cryphoeca montana, new. (Plate VIII, figures 4 to 41.) 
Cryphoeca peckhamii, Simon, from Washington territory, resembles 
this species. 

Males 4 mm. long, females 3 mm. General appearance like a 
small Coelotes or Amaurobius. The cephalothorax is narrowed in 
front of the first legs and at that point is as high as wide, curving 
downward toward the eyes. The eyes cover half the width of the 
front of the head, both rows arched upward. The upper row is 
largest, the eyes of equal size, and equal distances apart. In the 
lower row the middle eyes are half the size of the lateral. The 
lateral eyes of both rows touch each other. The sternum extends 
in a long blunt point between the coxe of the fourth legs. The 
legs are of moderate length, the fourth longest in females, and the 
first in males. The first and second legs have two spines on the 


Supplement to the New England Spiders. 223 


outer side of the tibia, and four on the inner side, and three pairs 
of spines on the metatarsus. In females these spines are long, more 
than half the length of the tibia; in males they are short like the 
spines of the other legs. The abdomen is oval, not much longer 
than wide, resembling in shape as well as in markings that of 
Amaurobius sylvestris. The lower spinnerets are wide apart, and 
there is a wide opening to the trachez between and in front. The 
edge of the tracheal opening is thickened and colored on the inner 
side so that it resembles a small cribellum. 

The colors are translucent white and gray. The legs are marked 
with broken dark rings at the ends and middle of the joints. The 
cephalothorax has a narrow black edge and broken radiating dark 
marks like Ca@lotes medicinalis. The abdomen is marked with a 
series of oblique light spots in pairs like Amaurobius. On the under 
side the abdomen is light in the middle; the cox are light, and 
the sternum is light in the middle and dark at the sides. The light 
color turns yellow by long keeping in alcohol. 

The male palpi have two processes on the tibia—one on the 
upper side turned outward and sharp pointed, the other on the 
outer side about half as long, stout, and directed forward. The 
palpal organ is large, extending backward beyond the base of the 
tarsus. The tube begins at the hinder end, extends around the 
inner side and ends in the groove of a thick process on the 
outer side. 

Adult males and females half-way up Mt. Washington, June 10. 
Females Stow, Vt., July 29, Miss Bryant. Young males under leaves 
Jackson, N. H., in February. 


Hahnia brunnea, new. (Plate VIII, figure 5.) 

A single female from Clarendon Hills maple swamp is 3 mm. 
long, three-fourths the size of agi/is. The proportions of the body, 
the eye arrangement and the shape of the sternum and maxille are 
the same as in agilis. The opening of the trachea is midway 
between the epigynum and spinnerets, not as far forward as in 
agilis. The spinnerets are in a line, with the lateral pair slightly 
larger than the others as in agz/is, but the spinnerets are closer 
together, the middle pair almost touching. The lateral spinnerets 
are shorter than in agi/is, being a third the length of the abdomen, 
while in agilis they are half as long as the abdomen. The epigy- 
num is shaped much as in agi/is, but on each side there is a brown 
loop under the skin that does not show in agilis. The color is 
light brown, the legs without rings or markings. The cephalo- 


224 J. H. Emerton, 


thorax is light brown, a little lighter than the abdomen. The 
abdomen is marked by a middle row of five pairs of oblique light 
spots, and the front pair of muscular spots is not conspicuous as it 
is In agils. 

Hanover, N. H., C. M. Weed in N. Banks’ collection. 


Phidippus albomaculatus, Keys. Zool. bot. ges. Wien, 1885. 

P. mystaceus, Em. Trans. Conn. Acad., 1891. 

P. incertus, Pkm., 1901 from Texas is thought to be the Aftus 
mystaceus of Hentz. 


Phidippus brunneus, Em. Trans. Conn. Acad., 1891. (Plate XI, 
figure 1.) 

Male a little smaller than the female, and the same general color. 
The cephalothorax is darker than in the female, and the abdomen 
covered on the upper side with dull yellow hairs. The legs are 
darker than those of the female. The mandibles are iridescent 
green. The male palpal organ is short and wide at the base, and 
the tube is stout and with a double bend: Pl. XI. fig. 1. 

Found at the same time with females at Hyde Park. Mass., 
May 2, 1903. 


Phidippus Whitmani. (Plate XI, figure 5 and Plate XII, figure 1.) 

The male of this species is very distinctly marked. It is about 
8 mm. in length, larger than most males of multformis, Pl. XIU, 
fig. 1. The cephalothorax and abdomen are red, in some individuals 
inclining to orange. There is a distinct black band across the front 
of the head behind the eyes and as wide as the largest eyes. 
There is a narrow yellow band around the front of the abdomen, 
and in some individuals two pairs of indistinct yellow spots near 
the hinder end, but in others the whole back of the abdomen is 
red without any spots. In alcohol the spots are more distinct, and 
another pair of spots often shows in front of the others. The legs 
and palpi are gray with irregular dark and light spots obscured 
by long hairs. In alcohol the femora are dark and the other 
joints have dark rings at the end. The palpal organ is long and 
narrow, the bulb extending backward the whole length of the tibia. 
Pl. XL fig. 5. The writer does not know the female. 

Sharon, Mass. Three Mile Island, N. H. 





Supplement to the New England Spiders. 225 


Phidippus insignarius, Koch. 1846. (Plate XI, fig. 2 and 2d.) 
The male is described by Peckham as the male of Phidippus coma- 
tus in Trans. Wisconsin Acad., April, 1901. 

Male 8 mm. long; cephalothorax black with two wide white 
stripes beginning below the lateral eyes in front, and turning upward 
behind, where they nearly meet under the front of the abdomen. 
There are two pairs of tufts of long black hairs at the sides of 
the head. The abdomen is orange red with black and white mark- 
ings; there is a white stripe around the front, and a scolloped 
black middle band including a middle orange spot, and two smaller 
orange spots in front of it. The ornamentation of the face and 
front legs is striking and complicated. The lateral white stripes 
extend around under the front eyes as far as the middle pair, but 
do not meet under them, and below these are long white hairs 
that cross each other and nearly cover the mandibles, so that their 
iridescent. blue color is concealed. The palpi are white, with a 
little mixture of brown. The first legs are covered on the under 
side with long white hairs; the hairs of the cox point downward, 
nearly to the ground; the femur has a row of stiff white hairs as 
long as its diameter along the outer side, and the other joints 
have hairs extending more than their diameter each side to the 
ends of the tarsi. When the first legs are pointed upward, the 
whole front appears white except the upper part of the head, 
which is black, extending outward at the sides in four black tufts. 
When the first legs are down in walking position, the upper side 
becomes visible in front, and this is covered with black hairs at 
the sides and, as far back as the patella, with a middle stripe of 
orange. The second leg is striped in the same way, but not as 
brightly, and has shorter white hairs. 

The female is a little larger than the male, and marked on the 
back less distinctly in the same way. The cephalothorax is brown 
with lateral white stripes and tufts of long hairs on the head as 
in the male. The abdomen is light and dark brown with gray 
hairs; there is a white stripe around the front end and a square 
white spot in the middle. The dark middle band is broken into 
two pairs of black spots in the front half. The epigynum has a 
small notch in the hinder edge and two anterior openings close 
together separated only by a narrow ridge. 


Dendryphantes Jeffersoni, new. (Plate XI, figures 3 and 3e.) 
Males 4 mm. long. Color brown: mixed with white and yellow. 
The cephalothorax has the usual white stripes at the sides that 


226 J. H. Emerton, 


connect in front with a large white patch extending backward in 
the middle nearly as far as the dorsal eyes. The abdomen is 
marked with a front white band and five or six pairs of white 
spots extending forward on their inner corners. The legs are ringed 
with white at the ends of the joimts. In alcohol the white dis- 
appears and the abdomen appears marked with a series of black 
spots on a light ground. The first legs are 5.5 mm. long, with the 
tibia a little thickened. The palpus of the male differs but little 
from that of capitatus and flavipedes. The bulb is wide at the 
base and more nearly square than in capitatus. The tube resemb- 
les that of flavipedes in having a long process parallel to it, but 
both are curved in a half circle, fig. 3. 

Two males were found in the moss near Spalding’s Spring on 
the Mt. Washington range at a height of 5000 ft., July 6, 1904, 
and a female at the same place, July 4, 1907. 

A female found in the same locality several years later is 7 mm. 
long and dark brown with light gray hairs without any distinct 
white or yellow marks. In alcohol the abdomen shows indistinctly 
light marks similar to those at mzlitaris. The epigynum has the 
notch shallow and truncate and the two openings a little farther 
apart and more angular than in mztaris. 


Dendryphantes flavipedes, Pkm. Trans. Wisc. Acad., 1888. (Pl. XI, 
figures 4, 4a.) 

The males do not differ from the females as much as in capitatus 
and miltarts. My specimens are 4 mm. in length. The cephalo- 
thorax is ight brown as in female cafitatus, with white longitudinal 
bands at the sides below the eyes widening behind. The abdomen 
has the dark middle area broken by three pairs of spots in the 
* front half and three or four light chevrons behind. The dark area 
is less sharply defined than in the male capitatus and connects with 
several oblique rows of dark spots. The legs are not ringed as in 
the other species but pale and translucent with longitudinal dark 
lines on the inner side. One of the the males from Portland, Me., 
and others from Fitzwilliam, N. H., are light gray, almost as light 
as Drassus saccatus without any distinct markings on the. back, but 
with fine distinct longitudinal black stripes on the legs. The male 
palpi are a little darker than the legs and the tarsi and the palpal 
organs resemble those of D. capitatus, except that the tip of the 
palpal organ is double, the tube having a slightly curved process 
longer than itself parallel with it on the outer side. The process 


Supplement to the New England Spiders. 227 


of the tibia is short and transverse, differing little from the same 
part in the other species. 

Long Island, Portland, Me., Sept. and Crawford Notch, N. H., 
July 4. Fitzwilliam, N. H. in July. 


Eris nervosus, Pkm. Wisconsin Academy, 1888. 
Zygoballus terrestris, Emerton. N. E. Attidae, 1891. 


Icius similis, Bks. 1895. Colorado. 
I. elegans, dark variety, Em. Conn. Acad., 1891. 

This species is described in New England Attidae as a variety 
of Icius elegans. The colors are not as brilliant, and it does not 
have the tufts on the front legs or such large tufts over the eyes. 
The palpal organs also differ slightly from those of e/egans as figured 
in N. E. Attidae. 


Icius formicarius, Em. New Eng. Attidae, Trans. Conn. Acad., 1891. 
(Plate XI, figures 8, 8a.) 

The male of this species has been found by Miss E. B. Bryant, 
July 3, 1904, at Allston, Mass., near Boston. It resembles the female 
in form and color, and has no tufts on the head and no peculiar 
modifications of the front legs. It is 4.45 mm. long. The male palpi 
resemble those of the other species of /ceiws; the patella and tibia 
are both very short, the tibia shorter than it is wide, and having 
a process on the outer side longer than the rest of the tibia. The 
palpal organ has the same general shape as in e/egans and Harti, 
but is a little more elongated, and the tube is a little more slender. 
In the same neighborhood with this male, a female 6 mm. long 
was found under a stone with a cocoon of eggs. 


Mevia tibialis, Koch. 1848. XIV, p. 78. 
Admestina Wheeleri, Pkm. Trans. Wisconsin Acad., 1888. (Plate 
XI, figures 6, 6a.) 

The female is 4 mm. long, the cephalothorax 1.5 mm. The 
cephalothorax is one-half longer than wide,—a little the widest across 
the hinder half and flat on the top. The abdomen is oval,—widest 
across the middle. The spinnerets are long, the third pair extending 
their whole length behind the abdomen. The legs are short, the 
first pair a little thickened, and as long as the cephalothorax. The 
sternum is one-half longer than wide and pointed at the posterior 
end; it is narrow in ffont, but does not extend beyond the first 
coxe. The cephalothorax is covered with white hair but in alcohol 


228 J. H. Emerton, 


appears black. The abdomen is white with a middle gray band 
broken at the edges by spots and indentations. The legs are white 
with black spots at the ends of the joints. 

The epigynum is large for so small a spider and is at the end 
of the first third of the abdomen. It has two large spermathecze 
that show through the skin, and two small openings in front of them. 


Hyctia Pikei, Pkm. Trans. Wisconsin Acad., 1888. (Plate XI, 
fisunes-7,. 7. C:) 

Cephalothorax and abdomen both elongated and narrow, whole 
length 6 to 8 mm., cephalothorax 2.5 to 3 mm. Abdomen 1.5 to 
2mm. wide; cephalothorax two-thirds as wide as long, a little 
wider in males than in females. The second, third and fourth legs 
are short and slender, but the first pair are thickened in both sexes, 
in the females twice as long as the cephalothorax, and in the males 
longer. The color is light gray with brown markings. In females 
the cephalothorax has three light brown longitudinal stripes, two 
extending the whole length from the lateral eyes and a middle 
stripe on the hinder half only. The abdomen has three fine stripes 
or rows of spots, sometimes forming a broken wide middle stripe. 
In males the whole middle of the abdomen has a wide brown 
middle band partly divided into triangular spots. Young individuals 
sometimes have no markings at all and are greenish in color like 
the sand grass in which they live. When approaching the female 
the male raises his front legs stiffly upward at an angle of sixty 
degrees with each other, and lifts the abdomen slightly, walking 
on the six short legs. 

The sternum is half as wide as long and pointed at both ends, 
and the first and fourth coxz are close together and may touch 
each other. The epigynum has a simple oval opening with a 
thickened edge in front. The male palpi are very short; the patella 
is as long as wide, and the tarsus is shorter, but with a thick 
pointed process on the outer side, as long as the rest of the tibia. 
The tarsus is curved downward and has a ridge along the outer 
side, the part below which is smooth, with few and short hairs. 
The bulb of the palpal organ projects at the base in a long blunt point. 

Common on sand grass along the sea shore. 


Pellenes viridipes, Hentz. 

Pellenes Howardi, Pkm. Bull. Wisconsin Nat. Hist. Soc., Oct., 1900. 

Attus viridipes, Hentz. Boston Journal Nat. Hist. 1846. (Plate XII, 
figures 5, 5a.) 


lt i i ai ~— Te 


Ee ae ae 


Supplement to the New England Spiders. 229 


The male is 5 mm. long with the cephalothorax 3 mm. long. 
The colors are bright and the markings of the back sharply defined. 
The first legs are light, transparent green, and the other light portions 
pale fawn color. The green fades entirely in alcohol. The top of 
the head covering the whole area between the eyes is orange 
brown, and the dark markings are dark brown, almost black. The 
pattern can best be seen in the figures. The front legs have a 
narrow stripe of fawn color on the upper side dividing the green, 
the other legs and palpi are fawn color, broken along the sides by 
dark scales, forming parts of rings at the ends of the joints. The 
three inner spines of the front tibia are dark colored and flattened 
and two of them are long and spatulate, showing distinctly beyond 
the hairs. The patella of the third leg is widened and flattened 
and has a black and white eye spot and a black border under the 
eye spot, and just over the joint is a spine slightly turned up at 
the end. When the third legs are drawn up in the usual standing 
position, the modified patella show in front over the head. The 
face below the eyes is for a short distance dark brown and below 
this white. The mandibles are also white on the front. 

The female is slightly larger than the male, but the cephalothorax 
smaller. The color is dull orange brown, at first sight uniform, but 
showing indistinctly the same light and dark pattern as the male. 

The males mature about the first of May and the females a little 
later. The females are usually found under stones and the males 
moving about in dry paths in the woods in Hyde Park and Sharon, 
Mass. It has been found at several places across the country as 
far as California. 


Pellenes roseus. 
Attus roseus, Hentz. Journal Boston Soc. Nat. Hist. 1846. (Plate 
XII, figure 4.) 

Male 4 mm. long, cephalothorax 2 mm. Neither the first or 
third legs are modified or ornamented. The cephalothorax and the 
front of the abdomen are bluish white and covered with fine short 
scales. The rest of the back of the abdomen is light pink, with 
a metallic lustre. The legs and palpi are thinly covered with white 
scales, and the color is modified by dark hairs and the yellow of the 
skin. The face and mandibles are covered with white scales, the 
mandibles indistinctly striped with black. 

The female is the same size as the male and resembles the female 
of splendens. The cephalothorax is covered with light gray scales 
mixed with darker hairs. The abdomen is light fawn color and 


230 J. Hl. Emerton, 


black. There is a light band each side and one across the front 
of the abdomen. There is also a light middle band indented at 
the sides, extending forward from the spinnerets two-thirds the 
length of the abdomen. The legs are light gray without any mark- 
ings. On the under side of the abdomen there are three dark lines. 

Ipswich, May 20, 1898, in an open field near the shore. Specim- 
ens from New York State were found and sent to Mr. Peckham 
at about the same time. 


Pellenes agilis, Banks. Ent. Soc. N. Y. 1892. 
Pellenes auratus, Pkm. Bull. Wisc. Nat. Hist. Soc., Oct., 1900. 
(Plate XII, figures 3, 3a, 3b.) 

6 mm. long, the cephalothorax 3 mm. Jong. The female 
is covered with bluish gray hairs, through which can be seen indis- 
tinct white markings on the abdomen and dark gray at the ends 
of the joints of the legs. In alcohol the hght gray color disappears, 
and dingy gray and brown take its place on which the white and 
dark markings show more distinctly. The male is brightly marked 
with black and white. The cephalothorax has a pair of white stripes 
at the sides and another pair just above the lateral eyes extending 
its whole length, and a white middle stripe from the front middle 
eves as far back as the posterior eyes. The abdomen has lateral 
and middle white stripes connected in front; the lateral stripes are 
broken in their hinder half into two white spots, and the middle 
stripe is sometimes broken into spots at the end. The second, 
third, and fourth legs are irregularly ringed with gray and white, 
but the first pair are highly ornamented with long black hairs and 
white spots, Pl. XII, fig.3a,3b. The first leg has the femur black with 


5) 





short hairs like the other legs, the patella white with a crest of 


white hairs above and long black hairs below, the tibia black with 
a white spot on the upper side near the end, and long black hairs 
above and below, the metatarsus and tarsus white. The third legs 
have no peculiar modifications of the patella or tibia. The palpi 
have the tarsus black and the patella white. 

In marsh grass and under sticks and stones along the shore, 
Ipswich, Mass., Long Island, New York. 

Males and females mature about August 1. In dancing before 
the female, the male holds the front legs out sidewise with the 
tibia nearly horizontal and the tarsus turned downward, and walking 
on the other six legs, approaches her by short quick steps without 
much movement from side to side until near enough to touch her 
and then quickly retreats. 


ee Se 


Supplement to the New England Spiders. 231 


Pellenes borealis, Banks. 1895. 
Habrocestum cristatum, Pkm. Attidae of N. A., 1883. (Plate XII, 
figures 4 to 4C.) 

The female is 5—6 mm. long, the male 45—5 mm. The 
female is hight gray and brown like the sand, while the male is 
deep black with white markings. The legs of the male have no 
peculiar modifications either of the first or third pairs. The mark- 
ings of the female are very indistinct; the cephalothorax is varied 
with white, sometimes suggesting two white lines from the lateral 
eyes backward. The abdomen has a white line across the front and 
two pairs of short lines at the sides. Toward the end there are 
two middle spots, sometimes connected, and the usual two small 
white spots just in front of the spinnerets. The male has the ce- 
phalothorax black with long black hairs on the front of the head. 
The abdomen is black and has the same markings as the female, 
but much whiter and more distinct. The legs are pale, but the 
color is darkened by black hairs. The face below the eyes is white 
in the female, and in the adult male is thinly covered with small 
white scales, but in the young male before the last moult, this part 
is bright red, so that it may be mistaken for the young of P. ca- 
catus, which lives farther south. See Psyche, Journal of Cambridge 
Ent. Club, Vol. II, p. 32, April, 1904. 

The epigynum has a large oval anterior opening extending back- 
ward at the sides almost as far as the posterior opening. The 
palpal organ is oval and has a stout supporter of the tube extend- 
ing along the inner side and but little narrowed toward the end. 

This spider is very common along sea beaches in the dry grass 
and rubbish thrown up by the tide. Adults are found most ab- 
undantly about the first of May, but some of them mature in the 
late summer as early as the last of August. The red-faced young 
males are found in the summer and fall, and in spring as late as 
June. 


Chalcoscirtus montanus. 
Icius montanus, Banks. Can. Ent., 1896. 

The cephalothorax is 1.2 mm. long, the abdomen of the male 
about the same length, and that of the female longer. The cephalo- 
thorax is two-thirds as wide as long, a little flattened above and 
with the sides nearly straight and parallel. The posterior eyes are 
half as far from the front eyes as they are from each other and 
the middle eyes are slightly nearer the posterior than the front eyes. 
The color differs in the sexes, the male being much darker than 


232 J. H. Emerton, 


the female. . The male is dark brown, almost black, without any 
markings, and the abdomen is slightly iridescent. The female has 
the cephalothorax dark brown and the abdomen light brown with 
pale herringbone markings like the female Euophrys. The legs of 
the female are pale. The fourth leg is longest in both sexes. The 
male palpi are short with the patella and tibia of equal length, 
the patella thicker than the tibia. The tarsus is oval and does not 
cover the bulb, which is thick at the base and extends backward 
under the tibia nearly its whole length. At the distal end of the 
bulb a small oval piece is constricted off and turned to one side, 
and at the tip of it is the small sharp tube. The epigynum re- 
sembles that of Neon and Euophrys. 

Sifted from moss on the upper part of Mt. Washington range. 
July 4, 1907. 


Homalattus cyaneus, Pkm. N. A. Spiders, Trans. Wisconsin Acad. 
Oct., 1888 1 
Attus cyaneus, Hentz. (Plate XI, figure 9, 9a.) 

Female 4 mm. long. and 1.5mm. wide. The part of the cephalo- 
thorax showing in front of the abdomen is as wide as long, narrowed 
a little in front. The posterior eyes are very far back, two-thirds 
as far from the front of the head as they are from each other. 
The cephalothorax and abdomen are both flattened, and the front 
of the abdomen covers the cephalothorax about a quarter of its 
length. The color is metallic green, the cephalothorax roughened 
and covered with small scales nearly as wide as long, and the ab- 
domen with small but longer scales. 

New Haven, Conn. and Sharon, Mass. under shingle of a barn. 


Peckhamia picata. 
Synemosyna picata, Hentz. Journal Boston Soc. Nat. Hist. 1846. 
(Plate XU foures (oy 7-250 b:) 

This species continues to be rarely found in New England. Adult 
males and females were found in May, 1906, at Three-Mile island, 
Lake Winnipesaukee, N. H., and adult females in July at the same 
place. They lived on a dry hillside among dead leaves on the 


ground and were seen walking slowly in and out among the leaves, 


resembling ants of the same size and color that were wandering 
over the same neighborhood. The male figured was 4 mm. long. 
The dancing of the male of this species before the female has been 
described by Peckham in the Occasional Papers of the Nat. Hist. 
Soc. of Milwaukee, Vol. 2, 1892. 


ee 


ie 


ee el 


————— 


Supplement to the New England Spiders. 233 


Peckhamia scorpionia. 
Synemosyna scorpionia, Hentz. Boston Journal Nat Hist. 1846. 
(Plate XII, figures 6, 6a.) 

This little spider was found at New Haven, Conn., in 1883 but 
was overlooked at the time of publication of the N. E. Attidae. 
Since then it has been found in considerable numbers at Cold 
Spring Harbor, Long Island, N. Y., and at Cambridge and Ipswich, 
Mass., always on fences on which it runs about slowly and irreg- 
ularly like an ant. When threatened it flattens itself against the 
wood, holding on so tightly that it is hard to pick it up without 
injury. The males mature about June 1 and when contined with 
females dance before them much like prcata, holding the abdomen 
up vertically and swinging it toward the advancing side and some- 
times turning the feet of that side under the body. The front legs 
are not turned forward as much as in prcata. 

The females are about 3 mm. long, the males 2 to 2.6mm. The 
cephalothorax is twice as long as wide, and widest across the hin- 
der third. The posterior eyes are farther back than the middle 
of the cephalothorax. The abdomen is oval, slightly widest behind, 
and both it and the cephalothorax are flattened on the upper side 
and without any constrictions or indentation. 

The legs are short and slender and the first pair thickened in 
both sexes. The color is dull brown and gray with pale markings. 
On the cephalothorax there is a transverse light spot just behind 
the eyes. On the abdomen there are two white stripes across the 
middle and between them two light spots connected with the an- 
terior band. The space between the light bands is slightly paler 
than the rest of the abdomen. The legs are pale with a dark 
longitudinal stripe on the front side. The femora are darkened a 
little in the first, and less in the second and fourth pairs. In the 
male the first legs have the tibia and patella thickened as well as 
the femur, but not flattened on the upper side as they are in fprcata. 


Myrmarachne albocinctus, Koch. 
Salticus albocinctus, Koch. 1846. Vol. XIII p. 36. 
Salticus ephippiatus, Em. Trans. Conn. Acad. 1891, 
It is doubtful if this is the Synemosyna ephippiata of Hentz 
neither his description nor figure show the thickened palpi. 


Acrosoma rugosa 
Admestina wheeleri 
Agroeca pratensis 
Agroeca repens 
Ancyllorhanis . 
Amaurobius borealis 
Anyphena rubra 
Apostenus acutus 
Argyrodes cancellatus 
Argyrodes larvatus 
Attus cyaneus. 
Attus roseus 

Attus viridipes 


Bathyphantes calcaratus 


Caseola alticeps 
Caseola herbicola 
Castaneira lineata’. 
Ceratinella formosa 
Ceratinopsis alternatus 


Ceratinopsis auriculatus . 
Chalcoscirtus montanus . 


Cicurina arcuata 
Cicurina brevis 
Cicurina complicata 
Cicurina pallida 
Clubiona preematura 
Clubiona spiralis 
Ccelotes calcaratus 
Celotes longitarsus 
Cryphoeca montana 
Cryphoeca peckhamii 


Dendryphantes flavipedes 
Dendryphantes jeffersoni 


lege 


Described species 1882—1892 . 


Dicyphus trilobatus 
Dismodicus alpinus 
Dolomedes fontanus 


INDEX 





Dolomedes idoneus . 


Dolomedes sexpunctatus 


Dolomedes tenebrosus 
Dolomedes urinator 
Dolomedes vernalis 
Drassus bicornis 
Drassus hiemalis 


Eecobius parietalis 
Enoplognatha rugosa 
Epeira angulata 
Epeira corticaria 
Epeira juniperi 
Epeira labyrinthea . 
Epeira nigra 

Epeira nordmanni 
Epeira silvatica 
Epeira solitaria 
Epeira thaddeus 
Epeira verrucosa 
Erigone brevidentatus 
Erigonoplus gigas 
Kris nervosus 
Eucharia atrica 
Exechophysis palustris 


Grammonota gigas . 
Gnaphosa parvula 


Habrocestum cristatum 
Hahnia brunnea 
Histagonia palustris 
Homolattus cyaneus 
Hyctia pikei 
Hypselistes 


Icius elegans 
Icius formicarius 
Icius montanus 
Icius similis 


page 
211 
210 
210 
211 
211 
218 
218 


212 
182 
198 
199 
200 
200 
198 
199) 
198 
198 
200 
iOS) 
194 
187 
227 
201 
188 


187 
218 


231 
223 
188 
232 
228 
176 


227 
297 
231 
297 


Supplement to the New England Spiders. 


Lasaeola cancellata 


Latrodectus m 


Linyphia conferta . ee 4; 


actans 


Linyphia maculata . 


Lophocarenum 
Lophocarenum 
Lophocarenum 
Lophocarenu_n 
tum 

Lophocarenum 
Lophocarenum 
Lophocarenum 
Lophomma 


abruptum 

alpinum . 

cuneatum 
quadricrista- 


minutum 
rugosum . 
trilobatum 


Lycosa arenicola 


Lycosa avara 


Lycosa baltimoriana 
Lycosa bilineata 


Lycosa carolin 
Lycosa crassip 


ensis 
alpis 


Lycosa frondicola 
Lycosa nidifex 
Lycosa nigroventris 
Lycosa ocreata 


Lycosa pikei 


Lycosa punctulata . 


Lycosa scutulata. Sekta; 


Lycosa rufiventris 
Lycosa relucens 


Meevia tibialis 
Micaria gentili 


s 


Micaria laticeps 
Micaria quinquenotata 
Microneta denticulata 
Microneta latidens 
Microneta persoluta 
Microneta serrata 


Minyriolus 
Myrmarachne 


albocinctus 


Neophanes pallidus 


Neriene 
New Species 


Oecobius parie 


talis . 


Orchestina saltitans 3 : 


page 
184. 
181 
195 
195 
189 
190 
188 


189 
191 
iS 
191 
176 
204 
202 
203 
207 
203 
206 
203 
205 
208 
207 
204 
206 
206 
202 
206 


227 
215 
214 
215 
19% 
197 
197 
198 
176 
233 


213 
176 
178 


212 
214 


Oxyopes salticus 
Oxyopes scalaris 


Pachygnatha tristriata 
Panamomops 

Pardosa bilineata 
Pardosa diffusa 
Pardosa littoralis 
Peckhamia picata 
Peckhamia scorpionia 
Pedanostethus pumilus 
Pedanostethus riparius 
Pedanostethus spiniferus 
Pellenes agilis 
Pellenes auratus 
Pellenes borealis 
Pellenes ccecatus 
Pellenes howardi 
Pellenes roseus 
Pellenes viridipes 
Phidippus albomaculatus 
Phidippus brunneus 
Phidippus incertus . 
Phidippus insignarius 
Phidippus mystaceus 
Phidippus whitmani 
Pholeomma. hirsuta 
Pirata arenicola 
Pirata insularis 

Pirata maculata 
Pirata sylvestris 
Pocodicnemis 
Poecilochroa montana 
Prosopotheca 
Prosthesima rufula . 


Salticus albocinctus 
Salticus ephippiatus 
Scotolathys pallidus 
Synemosyna picata 
Synemosyna scorpionia . 


Tapinopa bilineata . 
Tapinopa longidens 
Tetragnatha vermiformis 


-Thalamia parietalis 


207 
232 
233 
183 
182 
183 
230 
230 
231 
173 
228 
229 
228 
224 
224 
224 
225 
224 
224 
175 
208 
208 
209 
209 
176 
217 
176 
217 


233 
233 
213 
232 
233 


196 
196 
201 
212 


236 J. H. Emerton, Supplement to the New England Spiders. 





page page 
Theridium cancellatum . . 184 | Tmeticus flaveolus . ; Oe 
Theridium differens 5 . 180 ‘Tmeticus longisetosus . . 192 
Theridium kentuckyense . 180 | Trachelocamptus  . : LS 
Theridium verecundum . . 181 | Typhocraestes . ; ‘ aie 
Theridium zelotypum . . 180-| 
Tmeticus . : ‘ é . 176 | Zilla atrica E . 201 
Tmeticus brunneus . . 194 | Zilla montana : : » 201 
Tmeticus corticarius ; . 194 | Zygoballus terrestris. =) 2a 


Tmeticus debilis : : » SB} 


TRANSACTIONS OF THE 


CONNECTICUT ACADEMY OF ARTS AND SCIENCES 


INCORPORATED A. D. 1799 


VOLUME 14, PAGES 237-290 JULY, 1909 


The Poems of Thomas 
Third Lord Fairfax 


From MS. Fairfax 40 
In the Bodleian Library, Oxford 


BY 


EDWARD BLISS REED 


PUBLISHED UNDER THE AUSPICES OF 


YALE “UNIVERSITY 





NEW HAVEN, CONNECTICUT 
1909 





IV.—Tue Poems or Tuomas Tuirp Lorp Fairrax. 


(From the Bodleian MS. Fairfax 40; formerly MS. Add. A. 120.) 


In the annals of England the name of Thomas, third Lord Fair- 
fax, is deservedly illustrious. As a general, he was an intrepid 
fighter and a skilful commander; in his private life, a man of 
scholarly tastes, happy in his country estates, which he preferred 
to the court. Policy and self-advancement were far from his thoughts, 
despite his great opportunities for aggrandizement; and the simplic- 
ity of his character, at which his enemies sneered, was but a proof 
of his sincerity. To sketch his life in detail is unnecessary, yet his 
poems will gain significance if, in the briefest manner, we review 
his interesting career. 

The son of Fernandino, second Lord Fairfax, and Mary, daughter 
of Lord Sheffield, he was born at Denton, Yorkshire, in 1612, of 
a family long distinguished for its soldierly qualities. In 1620 his 
erand-father, Thomas, first Lord Fairfax, then a man of sixty, joined, 
with two of his sons, the single regiment sent by James I to the 
support of the Elector of the Palatinate. He was obliged to return 
to England to take part in the Parliamentary elections, but his two 
sons died at Frankenthal at the head of their troops. Fernandino 
did not make this campaign, and his father spoke of him as a 
“tolerable country justice, but a mere coward at fighting” 1; yet 
Fernandino took the field against Charles I, and certainly did not 
deserve this taunt. 

The early years of our poet were spent in Yorkshire, and he un- 
doubtedly enjoyed in his first studies the guidance of his great 
uncle, Edward Fairfax, the translator of Tasso. In 1626 he entered 
St. John’s College, Cambridge, where he remained four years, and 
then, following the family traditions, he went to the Low Countries, 
to serve under Lord Vere against the Spaniards. Another young 
volunteer in the same camp was Turenne. After witnessing the 
capture of Bois-le-Duc, he traveled and studied in France for eighteen 
months, returned to England in 1632, and requested permission to 
volunteer under Gustavus Adolphus, but his family opposed it, and 
he retired to the Yorkshire estates to live the life of a country gentle- 





1 A Life of the Great Lord Fairfax, by Clements R. Markham, London, 
1870, p. 12 


240 E. B. Reed, 


man. In 1637 he married the daughter of his commander, Anne 
Vere, a woman of energy and courage, who followed her husband 
to the field, shared his dangers (she was once taken prisoner by 
the Royalists) and, in no small measure, determined his career.1 
In the two brief and inglorious Scottish compaigns, Fairfax joined 
the King’s army, but when in 1642 Charles came to Yorkshire to 
seize the supplies at Hull, and raise troops against Parliament, the 
Yorkshire gentry who opposed the King looked to Fairfax for leader- 
ship. He was entrusted with a formal protest against the King’s 
actions, and, despite repulses, succeeded in laying this document 
on the royal saddle at Heyworth Moor, where Charles was endeavo- 
ring to win over the gentry of the shire. Fairfax thus showed 
the world on which side he would be found, and in the Yorkshire 
campaign that followed, he fought with the greatest courage. Un- 
daunted by defeat, fearing no odds, on at least one occasion he 
attacked a force that outnumbered his own by four to one. When 
surrounded, he cut his way through the enemy. At Marston Moor 
he found himself carried by the tide of battle into the thick of the 
enemy’s ranks. Taking from his hat the white badge worn by the 
Parliamentary forces, he calmly rode through the ranks of the Roy- 
alists, regained his troops, and led another attack.? So fearless was 
he that on several occasions he narrowly escaped death. In 1644 
a musket-ball pierced his shoulder, another broke his arm. Hardly 
recovered from these wounds, he was again struck at the siege of 
Pomfret Castle. His skill as a leader, his bravery in action, had 
attracted the attention of all England, and in 1645, when but thirty- 
three years of age, he was made Commander-in-chief of the Par- 
liamentary forces, having as his first task the organization of the 
New Model army. While in the popular opinion it was Cromwell 
who was “the leading spirit of the war,” to quote Sir Clements 
Markham, the biographer of Fairfax, “it was Fairfax who organized 
the new army without the smallest assistance from Cromwell. It 
was Fairfax whose genius won the fight at Naseby, and whose 
consummate generalship concluded the war, and restored peace. 
Cromwell was his very efficient general of horse, but nothing more: 
and indeed he was generally employed on detached duties of se- 
condary importance.” At Naseby, Fairfax was conspicuous for his 
daring; at the surrender of Oxford, he placed a guard about the 





ioe, p.. 108: 
aT ped. 471. 
8 Jbid., Preface, p. iv. 


The Poems of Lord Fairfax. 244 


Bodleian and saved it from destruction, as he had spared the 
minster at the siege of York.! 

With Charles hopelessly defeated, Fairfax was unwilling to depose 
him, wishing the King to rule, with the constitution safeguarded 
from encroachments of the crown. He hotly resented the seizure 
of Charles by Joyce, and through his insistance Charles was allowed 
to see his friends, and above all, his children—a favor for which 
he repeatedly thanked Fairfax.2 In the political intrigues which 
preceded the execution of Charles, Fairfax took no part; but when 
the Royalists made a last stand, he laid siege to Colchester, cap- 
tured the town, and crushed the insurrection. It was at this time 
that Milton addressed to him his noble sonnet: 


Fairfax, whose name in arms through Europe rings, 
Filling each mouth with envy or with praise, 
And all her jealous monarchs with amaze, 

And rumours loud that daunt remotest kings, 
Thy firm, unshaken virtue ever brings 

Victory home, though new rebellions raise 

Their Hydra heads, and the false North displays 
Her broken league to imp their serpent wings. 

O yet a nobler task awaits thy hand 

(For what can war but endless war still breed ?) 
Till truth and right from violence be freed, 

And public faith cleared from the shameful brand 
Of public fraud. In vain doth Valour bleed, 
While Avarice and Rapine share the land. 


Though appointed one of the Commissioners to try the King, 
Fairfax refused to be present at the trial, and opposed it in vain. 
Surely there are few more dramatic moments in history than when 
Lady Fairfax rose in the gallery of Westminster Hall to protest 
against the trial, and to defend her husband’s name. Indeed, so 
well known was Fairfax’s opposition to the execution of the King 
that Cromwell accused the general of planning to rescue Charles. 

In 1650 Lord Fairfax resigned his command, and returned to his 
estates at Nunappleton. On the death of Cromwell he decided 
that there would be anarchy unless Charles II returned and ruled. 
Lambert, with a disciplined army of ten thousand men, was on the 





1 Jord. p.271. Fairfax bequeathed to the Bodleian 28 manuscripts. See 
W. D. Macray : Annals of the Bodleian Library, Oxford. 
2 Ibid. pp. 290, 298. 


242 BB. Reed, 


field to oppose Monck, who, with an army of seven thousand, was 
on the point of declaring for Charles. Though ill and suffering 
intensely, Fairfax sent word to Monck that he would take the field 
in support of Charles. When he appeared, Lambert’s troops deser- 
ted and flocked to their old commander, and thus, without a shot 
being fired, the Restoration was accomplished. It was fitting that 
Lord Fairfax should head the commission sent by Parliament to 
the Hague to invite Charles to return. No honors were conferred 
on him by the Merry Monarch—he sought none—and he retired 
to Yorkshire, where he died November 12, 1671, three years be- 
fore the death of Milton. 

It is not surprising that the letters of Fairfax, and his two Short 
Memorials of the War, should have been published, but it is strange 
indeed that a manuscript of 656 pages of verse, all in his own hand- 
writing, should never have been carefully examined. This manuscript 
passed from the possession of the Fairfax family, and was owned 
successively by Ralph Thoresby, the Duke of Sussex, and Dr. Bliss 
of Oxford, from whose collection the Bodleian library, its present 
owner, purchased it in 1858. Archbishop Cotton, in his Editions of the 
Bible and Parts thereof in English from the year MDV to MDCCCL, 
Preface to the second edition, 1852, gave a table of contents of 
the manuscript, then in the possession of Dr. Bliss, and reprinted 
one of the paraphrases of the Psalms. Sir Clements Markham, in 
his Life of Fairfax, already cited, went further; for in the text of 
his work he reprinted three of Fairfax’s poems,! and in an appen- 
dix gave ten more, wholly or in part, but as a historian, interested 
in the political, and not the literary life of the times, he made no 
study of the manuscript. Since Markham, I can not find that any 
one has examined these poems or published them. 

We have no means of dating the poems, with the exception of 
the following: 

Upon the New-built House at Apleton (1650), To the Lady Cary 
upon her Verses on my deare Wife (1665), On the Fatal Day (1649), 
Upon the Horse which his Majestie Rode upon att his Coronation 





1 Life of Fairfax, p. 852: On the Fatal Day, Jan. 30, 1648; p. 365, Upon 
the New-built House at Apleton: p. 384, Upon the Horse which his Majestie 
Rode upon Att his Coronation. Appendix A, pp. 415—427 contains the follow- 
ing: Preface to the Psalms, Honny dropps (excerpts), The Solitude, The 
Christian Warfare (excerpts), Life and Death Compared together, Shortness of 
Life, Of Beauty, Upon a Patch Face, Upon an ill Husband, and two of the 
Vulgar Proverbs. 


The Poems of Lord Fairfax. 243 


(1660).! As these poems are written down in this order, it will be 
seen that their position gives no clue to the time of their compo- 
sition, indeed, the very last poem in the manuscript is an eclogue, 
Hermes and Lycaon, by Edward Fairfax, who died in 1635.2 If we 
refer Fairfax’s translations from ‘“ good old Mantuan” to his student 
days, the poems certainly cover a period of forty years. 

A perusal of the manuscript shows us at once that Fairfax is not a 
poet, but rather a man of poetic tastes, an admirer of verse. We have, 
then, no discovery of a neglected genius, and there will be no call 
for the Complete Works of Thomas Fairfax. It will occasion no 
surprise, therefore, that we have omitted a considerable amount of 
his poetry.’ It will readily be seen that the chief defect in these 
poems is their poor technique. Fairfax had very little sense of 
rhythm; at times his ear seems absolutely untrained, and, though a 
multitude of corrections in the manuscript show how hard he strugg- 
led to improve his lines, yet his revisions are generally as awkward 
as his first rude draft. Few of his poems have-any metrical charm, 
and when in his Honey Drops or Vulgar Proverbs he seeks to 
become epigrammatical, he lacks both point and finish. His best 
writing is seen in such a poem as David’s Lamentation, or in the 
straightforward couplets of the Christian Warfare; however, it is 
not for his skill as a writer that Fairfax deserves attention, but for 
certain conclusions that may be drawn from the subject-matter of 
his lines. 

Fairfax divided his poetry into religious and secular verse, the 
former occupying 551 pages out of 650, 388 of these being devoted 
to a metrical paraphrase of the Psalms. From the days of Wyatt 
and Surrey in England and Clement Marot in France, to “trans- 
late” the Psalms, or indeed to turn any part of the Scriptures into 
verse, was a pastime indulged in alike by the devout and by the pro- 
figate. A complete list of English writers who from 1500 to 1700 
made metrical versions of any portion of the Bible has never been 
compiled. It would be a surprisingly large one, and, though Fairfax 
was a devout man, he was following a literary fashion as well as 
his own inclination in his paraphrase which offers so little that is 





* The £pitaph on A. V. dieing Younge might be dated, were we sure 
that V. stands for Vere. 

* As Markham published this in A/scellanies of the Philobiblon Society, 
vol. 12, 1868—9, I have not reprinted it. 

* See table of contents of the MS. on page 249. With the exception of 
the Psalms, I have a copy of the whole MS. It is at the disposal of 
any one interested in it. 


244 BB. Reed; 


interesting that I have reprinted but four Psalms, enough to 
show his method.t' In his hymns we notice most of all that he 
writes in an impersonal style, for we have in them no picture of 
his own mind, no account of his spiritual conflicts, his doubts, his 
defeats, or his victories. Religious verse is valuable in proportion 
as it shows us the soul of a man, and this is precisely what Fair- 
fax does not attempt to do. 

This same lack of the personal element in his writing is a marked 
defect of the secular verse also, for he gives us practically nothing 
of his own life, even in remote allusion. When we consider the 
great scenes he had witnessed, the part he had played in shaping 
the destinies of England, it is rather surprising that he should choose 
to write on Envy, Temperance, Anger. Surely he might have written 
with more spirit on Liberty, Tyranny, or Valor. He collects many 
popular proverbs, but he does not jot down the song of his soldiers. 
For a fighting man, how faint and unrealistic are such lines: 


As men besieged with mines about 
Ready to spring and ruing [sic] all, 
Hearing the alarm beat, runne out 
To th’ assault and gard ther wall, 
And by the blast in ruins sinke 
Vanquist are when they least thinke.? 


And yet they are quite unusual, so rarely does he refer to the 
shock of battle. As Fairfax does not tell us what he has felt, so 
he has little desire to write down what he has seen. Apart from 
all considerations of the immeasurable distance that separates 
Andrew Marvell’s work from that of Fairfax, it is yet surprising 
that Marvell should describe Appleton House and the estates so 
fully, and that Fairfax, who delighted in them, should give us but 
a few faint lines on the new-built house. Similarly we should 
expect the sympathetic picture of the last moments of Charles to 





1 Markham, in his Life of Fairfax, p. 369, mentions another copy of 
Fairfax’s version of the Psalms, owned by Mr. Cartwright of Aynho. 
I have not attempted to trace this. At the end of the MS. of the 
Short Memorial, at Leeds Castle, are versions of the 18th, 24th, 30th, 
and 85th Psalms. He prefaces Psalm 18 with the following: ‘That I 
chuse this 18 Psalm let none think that I arrogate anything to myself, 
for farre be it from me to applie it otherwise than as David’s triumph 
over his enemies.’ See Markham’s Fazrfax, p. 415. 
2 A Hymne to Christ the Messiah. 


The Poems of Lord Fairfax. 245 


come from the pen of the general rather than from the tutor of 
his daughter.? 

To observe for one’s self, to describe one’s feelings, demands a 
certain amount of originality, and this is precisely what Fairfax 
lacked. The greater part of his religious verse was paraphrase, 
and we naturally look for translation in his secular poems. Pages 
602—10 of the manuscript are taken, he tells us, from the French, the 
Italian, the Latin. With the exception of the Mazarinades, all these 
translations are directed against Rome, showing his strong Puritan 
sympathies. It is interesting to notice that when he translates 
Petrarch he does not choose the sonnets to Laura, but 7he Char- 
acter of the Romish Church?  Petrarchism, brought in by Wyatt 
and Surrey a century before, had spent its force, and the lyrics of 
Philip Ayres, 1687, fill the last book that shows the old sway of 
the founder of the modern lyric. As confirmation of Fairfax’s lack 
of skill in writing, it is noticeable that he is unable to reproduce 
the sonnet form, and turns the quatorzains into poems of twelve 
lines. 

Eight pages of translation, however, constitute but a small part 
of his secular verse. As we read it, we are impressed by the con- 
trasts it shows, contrasts that can not be explained by assuming 
that certain poems are separated by long intervals of time. Lady 
Carey had written to Fairfax a metrical epistle on the death of his 
wife, and he felt called upon to answer it. Knowing his devotion 
to Lady Fairfax, we expect him to rise above himself under the 
inspiration of his grief, but his thought is so trivial, and so feebly 
expressed, that Zo the Lady Cary Upon her Verses on my deare 
Wife is one of the poorest poems. A few lines will show this more 
plainly than any comment: 


Madam 

Could I a Tribute of my thanks express 

As you have done in love and purer verse, 
On my best selfe then I might Justly raise 
Your Elogy t’ Encomiums of your Prayse 
And soe forgett the Subject that did move 
Me to a thankfulness as ’t did you to love. 
O ’twere to great a Crime but pray allow 





1 See Marvell’s Horatian Ode upon Cromwell’s Return from Ireland. 
2 Sonnets, De Vario Argumento, Nos, 14 and 16. 
3 Lyric Poems, made in Imitation of the Italians, London, 1687. 


246 E. B. Reed, 


Wher I fall short but you have reached to, 
Making that Good wisest of Kings hath said, 
Th’ Living’s not soe Prayse-worthy then |szc|] the dead. 


A few pages further on, we come to a more formal elegy on 
Henry of Navarre. 


Ah is itt then Great Henry soe fam’d 

For taming men, himself by death is tam’d! 
Whatt eye his glory saw, now his sad doome, 
But must desolve in Teares, sigh out his Soule, 
Soe small a shred of Earth should him intombe 
Whos acts deserv’d pocession of the whole. 


Though this poem has its defects, it is, on the whole, a better 
piece of writing than the elegy on Lady Fairfax. This consideration, 
together with the fact that Henry of Navarre was assassinated two 
years before Fairfax was born, and that there seems to be no special 
reason why he should lament his death, makes one suspect that 
the lines are a translation from the French. Such is the case, for 
I find that the poem is taken word for word from an elegy by Anne 
de Rohan which Fairfax read at the end of Agrippa d’Aubigne’s 
Histoire Universelle, published 1626, for d’Aubigne does not quote 
the whole poem, and Fairfax translates only as much as he gives.! 
With this hint I have looked in the French literature of the period 
for the originals of the other poems. On a Fountain is a trans- 
lation of an epigram of Malherbe that was a favorite one,” to judge 
from its appearance in a French anthology (Les Delices de la Poesie 
Francaise, 1615), while Fairfax’s best poem, the one that gives the 
manuscript its title, is a translation of Saint-Amant’s La Solitude. 
Other sources I have not found, but I feel convinced that many of 
the poems are translations, as for example, Of a Faire Wife, to 
Coregio, which is probably taken from the Italian. Others better read 
in Continental literature of the period may discover his models.’ 

We are now in a position to see the significance of these poems. 
They are not fine examples of English verse; they are rather to 
be regarded as documents that show us what an English gentleman 





1 Histoire Universelle par Agrippa d’Aubigné (Paris, 1879), Vol. 9, pp. 
472—15. 

2 See Oeuvres complétes de Malherbe (Paris, 1862), Vol. 1, p. 225. 

’ Mr. Lewis C. Everard, Yale Phi Beta Kappa Fellow, 1908—1909, has 
searched in the Bibliotheque Nationale, Paris, for other French originals, 
but without results. 


The Poems of Lord Fairfax. 247 


of the Caroline and Commonwealth period read and thought. They 
are like an old diary in which a great man has jotted down a list 
of the books he owns, or of poems he has memorized; they are 
like a package of old letters, in which the writer tells us of his 
favorite authors and his literary tastes. It is to be observed that 
this moralist, who mentions but one English writer—his great-uncle— 
turns to French literature. La Solitude is certainly not only Saint- 
Amant’s best piece of work, but one of the finest French poems 
of the period, and the evident admiration of Fairfax for it speaks 
well for his taste. Though Saint-Amant had twice visited London 
and was possibly known there as a poet, only two other unimpor- 
tant translations of his verse have been noticed in English literature.! 
It is worthy of mention that Saint-Amant himself had some very 
pronounced opinions concerning Fairfax, who probably never read 
the Frenchman’s Lpigramme Endiablee sur Fairfax? 

There is another interesting point concerning La Solitude. It is 
well known that in 1650 Andrew Marvell came to Appleton House 
as a tutor for Mary Fairfax. He had already written verse, but it 
had not been nature-poetry; his grotesque Flecnoe and his absurd 
verses Upon the Death of Lord Hastings have nothing of the meadow 





‘See A. H. Upham, Zhe French Influence in English Literature from the 
Accession of Elizabeth to the Restoration, New York, 1908, pp. 3845, 405, 409, 
412 It is interesting to read Saint-Amant’s brief reference to Ben Jonson 
in his Z’ Albion. 

: Je crois qu'il doit bien estre en peine, 

L’execrable tyran qui preside aux enfers, 
Quand, dans les feux et dans les fers, 
Il songe au noir object des foudres de ma haine; 
Son vieux sceptre enfumé tremble en sa fiere main; 
Il redoute Fairfax, ce prodige inhumain; 
Il craint que ce monstre n’aspire 
Au degré le plus haut de son horrible empire, 
Le degré le plus haut est celuy le plus bas 
C’est ou ce prince des sabats, 


? 


Des endroits les plus clairs aux endroits les plus sombres, 
Tomba pour regner sur les ombres ; 

C’est la, dis-je, qu’il craint que par quelque attentat, 
Que par quelque moyen oblique, 

Fairfax n’aille du moins renverser son estat 
Pour en faire une republique. 

Et voila les raisons qui l’ont fait hesiter 
Jusqu’a cette heure 4 l’emporter. 

Ocuvres Complétes de Saint-Amant (Paris, 1855), vol. 1, p. 472. 


248 E. B. Reed, 


in them. During the two years he spent at the home of Fairfax, 
Marvell wrote those nature-poems that determined his fame— Upon 
the Hill and Grove at Billborow, Upon Appleton House, On a Drop 
of Dew, The Garden—poems that show an observation, an appreca- 
tion of the earth, of flowers, birds and trees unsurpassed in all 
the works of his predecessors in English poetry, not excepting the 
very greatest, Chaucer, Spenser, and Shakespeare. That these poems 
were inspired not only by the beauty of Nunappleton, but by its 
owner’s love and appreciation of poetry, there can be little doubt. 
We may go even further, and see in Marvell’s nature-poems some 
hints from Saint-Amant. Marvell’s verse is richer and deeper; 
where Saint-Amant is vague in his descriptions or conventional in 
his thought, Marvell is concrete and original; for it is the Englishman, 
and not the Frenchman, who uses /e mot precis, and yet Saint- 
Amant’s theme—to lose one’s self in Nature—is the theme of The 
Garden and of the finest lines in Appleton House. 

We see now the significance of the poems of Fairfax. They 
throw light on the character of a great Englishman; they remind 
us that the literary influence of /a ville lumuiére was still powerful 
in England, that it had not died with the sonneteers; and they 
give us the atmosphere in which Andrew Marvell lived and wrote 
the tenderest, the sincerest, the deepest nature-poetry of the seven- 
teenth century. 


Yale College, Epwarp Buss REEp. 
February 19, 1909. 


249 


TABLE OF CONTENTS OF MS. FAIRFAX 40. 





_ The poems marked + are reprinted here. Those marked * are 
given only in part. The poems are printed as they stand in the 
[S. with no changes in the punctuation or spelling. 


— 


250 E. B. Reed, 


| Title} THE IMPpLOYMENT OF MY SouituDE. T. F. p. i 


+ The Preface to the Psalmes. p. ii. 
« Psalms 1 to 150, in verse. pp. 1-388. [p. 389 is blank.| 
Songs of the Old and New Testament. pp. 390—479. 
% Moses Songe. Exodus 15. p. 390. 
Moses Songe. Deut. 32. p. 396. 
The Songe of Deborah. Judges 5. p. 406. 
Hannah’s Songe. 4 Sam. 2. p. 415. 
1 Dauids Lamentation for Saule & Jonathan. 2 Sam. 1. p. 418. 
+ Hezekiah’s Songe. Isaiah 38. p. 422. 
The Songe of Mary the Blessed Virgin. Luke 1. p. 427. 
Zachariah’s Songe. Luke 1. p. 429. 
af Simeon’s Songe. p. 434. 
The Songe of Salomon. Chapter 1. p. 432. Chapt 2. p. 435. 
Chapt 3. p. 438. Chapt 4. p. 440. Chapt 5. p. 444. 
Chapt 6. p. 448. Chapt 7. p. 451. Chapt 8. p. 454 
Out of the Prouerbs of Salomon. p. 458. 
Wisdom’s Antiquity. pp. 471—475. 
Out of the Prouerbs of Salomon. p. 473> 473¢. 
[These two pages were formerly pasted together. They are a 
repetition of pp. 458 and 459. with two lines of 460.} 
Samuel’s Instruction from his Mother. Prouerbs 82. p. 476. 
x Honny dropps. p. 480. 
Hymnes to the Soueraine God. p. 510. 
A Hymne to Christ the Mesiah. p. 519. 
A Hymne to the Holy Ghost. p. 539. 
+ A Songe of Prayse. p. 549—551°. 
| Title] The Recreations of my Solitude T. F. p. 551°. 
+ The Solitude. p. 552. 
+ Of a Faire Wife to Coregio. p. 564. 
+ Of Beauty. p. 568. 
+ Upon a Patch Face. p. 570. 
Upon a Younge Virago. p. 571. 
+ Upon an ill Husband. p. 571. 
+ Of Envy. p. 572. 
+ Of Anger. p. 574. 
Ot wirtue. p. 577, 
Of Patience and Temperance. p. 579. 


MS. Fairfax go. 254 


+ Nature and Fortune. p. 582. 
+ The Christian Warfare. p. 583. 
+ Life and Death compared together. p. 590. 
+ Upon a Fountaine. p. 592. 
+ Upon the New-built House at Apleton. p. 593. 
+ Shortness of Life. p. 594. 
+ Epitaph on A. V. dieng Younge. p. 595. 
+ The Lady Caryes Elogy on my deare Wife. p. 596. 
+ To the Lady Cary Upon her Verses on my deare Wife. p. 598. 
+ On the Fatal Day, Jan. 30th, 1648. p. 600. 
+ Of Impartial Fate. p. 604. 
Epitaph sur le Mort du Cardinal Mazarin. Epiodium. p. 602. 
+ A Carracter of the Romish Church by Francisco Petrarca, Laura 
Can. 106. p. 604. 
Pontanus writes this Epitaph on Lucretia daughter of Alexander 6. 
p. 606. 
Baptista Mantua reproving the wicked Life of Sixtus 4 maketh the 
Divel give him this Entertainement in Hell. p. 607. 
Mantua Eclogae 5. p. 608. 
Palengenus A Papist thus discribes the monstrous Corruptions of 
the Romaine Clargie. p. 609. 
Upon Mr. Stanley’s Booke of Philosophers supposing itt the Worke 
of his Tutor W. Fa. p. 611. 
+ Upon the Horse w°" his Matic. Rode upon att his Coronation 1660. 
p. 612. 
* Vulgar Proverbs. p. 613. 
+ The teares of France for the deplorable death of Henry 4 surnamed 
the Great. p. 641. 
An Egloge maide by my uncle Mr. Ed. Fairfax in a Dialoge bet- 
wixt two Sheapards Hermes and Lycaon. p. 647. 


[p. 38] 


E. B. Reed, 


The Preface to the Psalmes. 


Vaine Fancy whether now darst thou aspire 

W'» smoky Coales to light the holy Fire 

Could thou indeed as wt? the Phenix burne 

In perfum’d flames & into Ashes turne 

Thou might’st hope (vaine hope) yet once againe 
To rise w't purer notions in thy Braine 

But t’would nott serue for they would still be darke 
Till from thyn Alter Lord I take a sparke 

I need not then assend up any higher 

In offring this to fetch another fire 

Inspired thus may on my Muse distill 

Dewes nott from Parnass but Herman’s sweet Hill. 


Salle 


Blest is the man in walking daly shuns 
Pernitious Councel that from th’ wicked Comes 
Nor to the sinners paths his steps doth bend 
Or he yitt up to Scorners chaire assend 

Who in the early morne & euening laite 

On lawes deuine makes choyse to meditate 

As by the runing streames the well sett tree 
His fruit in season yeild, the iust shall be 
Whos leafe shall neuer fade & what he doth 
Shall thriue as itt & shal be fruitfull both 

But wtt the wicked itt is diffrent farre 

As chaff tost in the Ayre, So they are 

Nor shall he stand fore th’ impartial Judge 

Or mongst the iust who in sins way doe trudge 


Psal 19 


The heauens Lord the siluer studed frame 
They are the Curious works thy hands declare 
Time vnto time itt doth recount the same 

To places most remote, ther voyce it heares 
Ore all the earth ther arched Sphers extends 
The Tun on’s throne ther rises ther desends 


[p. 39] 


[p. 49] 


MS. Fairfax 4o. 


As cherfull brid-grome in his nuptial state 

Or actiue men to race wt ioy Come out 

From East to West so runs he at that raite 
Till his cirquitt rownd he’as gone about 

All parts euen to the wide Earths extreames 
Both light & heat takes from his radent beames 


Thy law 6 Lord to soules perfection giues 
They that are simple by thy words made wise 
They shall reioyce who in thy precepts lues 
Thy Statutes pure inlighten’s the blind eyes 
To feare the Lord will vs preserue for euer 
Whos iudgments true & rightious altogether 


More sweete then honny yea or gold refin’d 
Thy seruants setts them att a hier prise 
They great rewards in keeping them do find 
But 0 alas who ist his errors spies 

My faults vnseene 0 let ther none remaine 
From bold-fac’d sins thy seruant Lord restraie 


O let not sin wt» it’s tyranick might 

Ere gitt a iuri[s|diction ouer mee 

So in my soule shall I then be vpright 

And from the great transgression guiltless be 
So shall my words & thoughts acceptance find 
Wt thee my strength redeemer of man-kind 


iRsale23 


How can I want the Lord my sheapard seemes 
Who to the verdant pasturs leads me outt 

By flowry bankes wher waters gently streams 
My soule he doth refresh he sets my foot 

In paths of truth & eaqual Justice both 

This only for his owne name sake he doth 


Al Though I through death|s|] shady vale doe goe 
No terrors ther shal makes me yitt affraid 

His rods my guide his staff my strength also 
Before myn foes my table he doth spread 

Wt oyle my head full cups my hart doth chere 
Him in his house for euer Ile serue ther 


bo 


Trans. Conn. Acap., Vol. XIV. Wy Juty, 1909. 


254 


[p. 104] 


[p. 105] 


[p. 390] 


[p. 391] 


E. B. Reed, 


Psal 46 


If in distress® Lord thou ‘It giue me ayde 

What need I feare though rocks in seas be throwe 
Though by ther rage the hills on hills be layd 
Thou still preseruest thos that are thyn owne 

In thes o’re turnings shal noe fear cease them 

For God was ther, his help in season Came 


When furious rage procest the Heathen world 
Thou was to vs as a strong Towre in War 

Thou spake the word & Earth on heaps was hurld 
Come se then ther what great vastations are 


Tis he when wars arise Can stop ther Course 
This he ther weapons breake ther Chariots fire 
Wait thou on him know he’s a God of force 
Did he not rule the world t’ would soone expire 
He mongst the Heathens will exalted be 

But Jacobs Gods the Towre to whom we flee 


Songs of the Old & New 
Testiment 


Moses Songe 
Exodus 15 


Vnto the Lord let prayse be sung 
Who gloriously triumphed hath 
For he into the sea hath flung 
Both Horse & Rider in his wrath 


The Lord my strength & songe shall be 
Who my sure saluation 

Mine & my father’s god is he 
Soule be his habitation 


A man of Warr’s the Lord renown’d 
His name is by Jehouah knowne 

Who in the Sea hath Pharoah drownd 
Downe Captains Horse & Chariots throwne 


This goodly Traine wt fury drunke 
The waues as Couerings did Containe 


[p. 392] 


[p. 393] 


[p. 394] 


MS. Fairfax go. 


bo 
ou 
Ou 


Wher to the bottome they are sunke 
As stones that neuer rise againe 


Thy hand o Lord has done this deed 
Glorious in Powre art thou become 

Thy hand I say when ther was need 
Th’ insulting Foe has ouercome 


They that agaist thee did Combine 
Thy wrath has broke in thy defence 
As stuble th’are before the winde 
So powrefull is thyn’ excelence 


Thy Nosthrills wt» a blast haue layde 
The liquid Seas on sollid heapes 

The floating waues ther w'' were stay’d 
As Ice Congealed in the depths 


Pursue o’retake th’ enimy said 
Ther spoyles let vs mongst vs deuide 
Whilst wt? ther Swords they hauack made 
And lust as law to them was guide 


But in a happy howre thou did 

The Treasures of thy winde display 
So sunk they as the heauy lead 

And vnder watry-Monntains lay 


Amongst the Gods who’s like to thee 
O Lord in Holiness & Prayse 

The fearfull wonders w*' we see 
Doe Trophyes to thy Glory raise 


Thou stretcht thy hand & they were gone 
The gapinge earth deuourd them quite 

To th’ Holy mountaine thou leddst on 
The chosen Flock of thy delight 


Nations hard this w'" pale-fac’d looks 
And horred feare amazed stood 
Edom Moab & Syrian Dukes 
Ditt melt away wth Canan’s broode 


Thy Glorious Name did soe apall 

Ther trimbling Harts wt' feare & dread 
That as a stone lie still they shall 

Till those pass ouer thou dost lead 


bo 
ou 
lor) 


E. B. Reed, 


To Zions mount thou didst them bring 
Didst plant them in its firtil soyle 
The place wher thou delightst in 
A sanctuary freed from toyle 


[p. 395] Raigne Lord for euer vn-opposd 
For Pharoa’s Horse & Men are drownd 
Him & his force hath sea inclosd 
Whilst Israel marches on dry grownd 


Miriam the Prophetiss a Timbrel takes 
Wher in their Circulinge-dances round 
The Virgin-Traine such Musick makes 
As th’ Hills about wtt Ecchoes sound 


Then Miriam answered them & sunge 
The Lord triumphd in Glory hath 
Proud Pharoah into th’ sea has flunge 
Wt Horse & Rider in his wrath 


[p. 418] Dauids Lamentation for Saule & Jonathan. 
2 Sam: 1 


Israel has lost her ornement 
Alas for itt lement 
How are her Mighty, falne & laine 
& on Mount Gibea slaine 
O let itt nott in Gath be knowne 
Or told in streets of Askelon 


O lett nott Lord our ancient Foes 
Joying Deride our woes 
Least daughter of th’ vncircomcis’d 
Triumph o’re vs dispis’d 
[p. 419] Noe more lett fruitfull showres distill 
Or dewes on Gibeas direfull Hill 


Nor e’er may any thither bringe 
More a Heaue-Offringe 

Ther th’ Mighty fell, Saule lost his sheild 
In this shamfull feild 

On him regardless they did treade 

As if noe oyle had touch’d his head 


“MS. Fairfax 40. 257 


Sharp Arrowes shott from Jonathans Bow 
Drunk wt" the blood of Foe 
Nor did Sauls sword rebate a Jott 
Till he’ad his! enimys smote 
[p. 420] How louely-pleasant are you tow 
Death Could not loue disjoyne in you 


Swifter then Eagles w* th’ Ayre peirce 
Both stronge as lions feirce 
Israel’s daughters lement the fall 
Of your valiant Saule 
Who you in Purple & Scarlet deckt 
And did from Foes your land protect 


How pleasant was itt to behold 
Your orniments of Gold 

Thy worthys by the sword, how are 
They thus cutt off in war 


[p. 421] O Jonathan my harts delight 
Slaine in the bloody fight 
Mount Giboa saw the woefull day 
Thou mongst her Rockes ther wounded lay 


How can I Deare Jonathan express 
For thee my sad distress 

Noe Woman’s loue reach’d thatt degree 
As thou once loued mee 

How is the Mighty falne, is Crusht 

And Israels Worthys rould in dust 


[p. 422] Hezekiahs-Songe 
Isaiah 38 


In Cuttinge off my days I said 

Must I goe downe to deaths cold shade 
Youth’s flowre noe sooner Budd but Blast 
Be Cropt and to oblivion cast 

Mongst liuing Lord must | noe more 

Lift vp myn eyes & thee adore 





1 Fairfax has written over this line “his foes had smote.” 


258 


[p. 423] 


[p. 424] 


|p. 425] 


E. B. Reed, 


Or longer in this vniuerse 

Wt Man-kind haue noe more Conuerse 
Farwell then Suns chearful light 

Whose Rayes expells the shades of Night 
Adeiu deare siluer-Horned Moone 

By step & step our time setts downe 
Yee Stars farwel that in Night appears 
Runing in your apoynted Spheres 

Who from your orbs soe far from hence 
Throwes downe on vs your influence 
Stay when you will your Constant Course 
For ouer death you haue noe force 
Farwel my Friends, farwel delight 
Deuided by Eternal Night 

My flitting years how soon th’are spent 
Remoued as a Sythian Tent 

Here to day to morrow dead 

Cut off like to a weauers thread 

In morning when new hopes began 

Er’ euening pinning sickness came 

Yitt did’st nott heare my sad groanes 
But lyon-like brake all my bones 

O whatt a little space is this 

T’wixt Being & not Beinge is 

Euen from th’ Eueninge to the Day 

My wasting Sperits faide away 

As Crane or Swallow sett alone 

To the 6 Lord I make my mo’ne 

And as the Doue that trembling sitts 
When Hawke aboue doth sores his pitch 
So faints my hart so failes myn eyes 

In seing such sad miseryes 

But thou in Mercy hast noe piere 

O help me in this troubled feare 

What shall I say but sure thus much 
Thy Word & Truth keep perfait touch 
For sin my soule shall all itts days 
Walke softly in my pensiue wayes 

By these things Lord doe Mortals hue 
New life by these things thou dost giue 
Lo, Peace to me dost thou restore 

And Joy for Greefe I had before 


[p. 426] 


[p. 431] 


[p. 435] 


bo 
ou 
we) 


MS. Fairfax 4o. 


Thou pluckt me from destrctions Pitt 
And all my sins didst thou remitt 

For who in death can offrings bringe 
Or in the Graue thy Prayses singe 

Of All to Shades beneath repare 

Does any hope for Mercy ther 

The liuinge ‘tis the liuinge They 

Shall Prayse thee as I doe this day 
Father to sonne relate shall this 

How faithfull are thy Promises 

Since Lord thou hast prolong’d my days 
On Warbling Harpe [le giue thee prayse 
And in thy Courts wt Holy Fire 

Of Zeale pay thanks till I expire 


Simeon’s Songe 
As thou hast said soe Lord pray I 
In peace now lett thy seruant die 
Sence my blest eyes haue seene i'th end 
Saluation from thy Throne desend 
Which thou before earth frame was layd 
To saue Man-kind decreed had 
A light to guide the Gentiles ways 
Of Israel’s sones to be the prayse 


[The Songe of Salomon| 
Chap 2 


I am the Rose of Sharon’s fruitfull feild 

The Lilly wc the humble vallyes yeild 

In midst of thornes as Lilly appear’s aboue 

Soe mongst the youthfull Virgins is my loue 
As Apple-trees ‘mongst trees o’th Forrest growe 
Amongst the sones of Men my loue is soe 
Vnder whose shade is my delightfull seat 

And to my tast his fruit is pleasant meat 

Then to the house of wines he brought me in 
Wher Loue like banners was a Couer in 

Stay me wt" flaggons wth Apples Comfort giue 
Who’s sick of Loue may yitt haue hope to liue 


260 


[p. 436} 


[p. 437] 


[p. 480] 


one hundred and twenty five couplets and thirty five quatrains) 


E. B. Reed, 


Vnder my head his left hand stretched out 

And wt his Right h’ imbraceth me about 

O Zions daughters I strictly you adiure 

By the swift Hynde & fearfull Roe be sure 
Noe stir by noyse you make for to disease 

Or wake my loue before the time he please 
Behold I hear his Voyce o’re Hills & Downes 
My loue Comes skiping ouer Mounts & bounds 
Like th’ Hart or nimble Fawne & triping Roe 
Standing behind our Wall Behold him Loe 
Through trelest windows how he looketh out 
His Church wt' watchfull care he vews about 
Thus speaking to me I my loue did heare 
Arise my faire one Come away my deare 

Lo winters past wt her stormy showers 

Th’ Earth now shew’s her various coulred flowrs 
Chirping of birds a signe the spring grows near 
We in the land the mourning Turtle heare 

The Figg-tree budding green her Figgs disclose 
The tender Grapes of Vines smell as the Rose 
Arise my faire one Come away my loue 

Whom Cliffy Rocks doe hid Come out my Doue 


Shew me thy Face myn eares let thy Voyce meet 


Thy Countinance is Comely, Voyce most Sweet 
Take th’ Fox & little Foxes in thy Toyles 
That thus our tender grapes & Vinyard spoyles 
My deare is myne & I am his who ’monge 
The Lillyes feed till shades of Night be gone 
Turne my beloued turne like th’ Roe that trips 
Or nimble Hinde that in Mount Bether skips. 


Honny dropps. 


(Under this title Fairfax has written 


Why good men haite all sin ‘tis understood 
Because tis both gainst god and ther owne good 


To walke wtt god tis goodmen’s care we see 
But leaves the Care to god wth way ’t should be 


. 490] 


. 491] 


. 509] 


MS. Fairfax go. 261 


Noe safty wt" out god in Freindship were 
Yitt safe wt enimyes if God be there 


A good man questionless was never hee 
Thatt strives nott allways better for to be 


Good Conscience is a name att wh Men tante 
But betters a good name then Conscience want 


Whatt before men we are affrayd to doe 
Fore God to thinke itt should affright us too 


Many the Sacred ordinances use 
Making noe proffet of them—them abuse 


When thou dost well or any good thou can 
Prayse nott thy worke, the worke will prayse the Man 


The soule by such a Noble sperit moves 
Tis nott soe much where’t lives as wher it loves 


Sure best are they, nott they who most can talke 
How Good God is, but who most with him walke 


In sweetest Natures this will sure befall 
None All can like nor shall be lik’t of all 


All Earthly things are such as ther’s noe doubt 
Worst Men may have and best may goe wtoutt 
Yett wanting them a man may happy be 

When others wt? them have butt misery 


Noe Time in pastime need we Idly wast 
For time will pass from us in too much hast 


I'th’ Sacred Arke Reason of State should lye 
But rules of state should nott Religion tye 


When men wt wine themselves like beasts abuse 
Not wine the Men but the wine misuse 


In all thou undertskes be carful still 

That none of thee can speake deserved ill 

And soe when that is done thou needs not Care 
For Ill men’s Censure ("Tis the Common fare) 


[p. 5514] 


E. B. Reed, 


A Songe of Prayse 


Earth prayse the Lord him Reverence beare 
As well for’s Thunders that we heare 
At w poore Mortals stand affraid 


As four the glotious Maruels which 
Such Splendors doth the world inrich 
They are the workes his hands hath made 


His Prouidential loue lets singe 

: MO x j 
That w a plentious flowinge springe 
Our barren soules hee watered 


The East the West tast of his Care 
Hott Affrick nor the freezinge Beare 
From his al seeinge eye is hidd 


And wast nott he He who did please 
W'" seueral kinds to store the Seas 
Of Fish beyond account Nay more 


Made Woods & Hills that Cataile yeilds 
Gaue flowry Pasturs verdent feilds 
That bringe both Corne & wine great store 


But how doe we his mercy wronge 
He sees wee still in Sin grow stronge 
And day by day his patience moue 


Yet as a Father ready is 
To pardon faults he sees in his 
Such are the tokens of his loue 


In vs Affections oh tis strange 
W" our light humor suddaine Change 
As in a moment they grew old 


They wtt the Wind are easely driuen 
But his is alweyes firme & euen 
And to Eternity doe hold 


Finis 


[p. 551 c| 


[p. 552} 


[p. 553| 


|p. 554] 


MS. Fairfax 4o. 263 


THE RECREATIONS OF MY SOLITUDE 


AUG |e 


THE SOLITUDE 


O how I loue these Solitudes 

And places silent as the Night 

Ther wher noe thronging multituds 
Disturbe wt' noyse ther sweet delight 

O how myn eyes are pleas’d to see 

Oakes that such spreadinge branches beare 
W from old Time’s netiuity 

And th’enuy of so many yeares 

Are still greene beautifull & faire 

As att the world’s first day they were 


Naught but the highest twiggs of all 
Wher Zephyrus doth wanton play 

Doe yett presage ther future fall 

Or shew a signe of ther decay 

Times past Fawnes Satyrs Demy-Gods 
Hither retird to seeke for Aide 

When Heauen wt» Earth was soe att odds 
As Jupiter in rage had laide 

O’re all a Deluge these high woods 
Preseru’d them from the sweling floods 


Ther vnder a flowry Thorne alonge 
Of Springs delightfull plant the Cheife 
Sadd Philomela’s mournfull songe 
Doth sweetly entertaine my greefe 
And to behold is noe less rare 

These hanging Rocks & Precepies 
W= to the wounds of sadd dispare 
Are soe propitious to giue ease 

When soe oprest by cruel fate 
Death’s sought for att another gate 


E. B. Reed, 


[LA SOLITUDE! 
A Alcidon. 


Que j’ayme la solitude! 
Que ces lieux sacrez a la nuit, 
Esloignez du monde et du bruit, 
Plaisent a mon inquietude ! 
Mon Dieu! que mes yeux sont contens 
De voir ces bois, qui se trouverent 
A la nativite du temps, 
Et que tous les siecles reverent, 
Estre encore aussi beaux et vers, 
Qu’aux premiers jours de l’univers! 


Un gay zephire les caresse 
D’un mouvement doux et flatteur. 
Rien que leur extresme hauteur 
Ne fait remarquer leur vieillesse. 
Jadis Pan et ses demy-dieux 
Y vindrent chercher du refuge, 
Quand Jupiter ouvrit les cieux 
Pour nous envoyer le deluge, 

Et, se sauvans sur leurs rameaux, 
A peine virent-ils les eaux. 


Que sur cette espine fleurie, 
Dont le printemps est amoureux, 
Philomele, au chant langoureux, 
Entretient bien ma resverie! 

Que je prens de plaisir a voir 
Ces monts pendans en precipices, 
Qui, pour les coups du desespoir, 
Sont aux malheureux si propices, 
Quand la cruaute de leur sort 
Les force a rechercher la mort! 





1 This is not in the MS. See pp. 246—248. 


[p. 555] 


[p. 557] 


MS. fairfax 4o. 265 


How pleasant are the Murmuring stream 
In shady Vallyes runinge downe 

Whose raginge torrents as itt seemes 
Just measurs keepe in skpps & bounds 
Then glidinge vnder th’ arbored banks 
As windinge Serpents in the grass 

The sportfull Naides playes ther pranks 
Vpon the watry plaines of Glass 

The christal Elements wherin 

These watry Nimphes delight to swime 


The quiet Marshe I loue to see 

That bounded is wt" willowes round 

With Sallow, Elme, & Popler tree 

W:} Tron yett hath giuen noe wound 

The Nimphes that Come to take fresh Ayre 
Here Rocks & Spindles them prouide 
Mongst Sedge & Bulrush we may heare 
The lepinge Froggs Se wher they hide 
Themselues for feare when they espye 

A Man or Beast approachinge nye 


A hundred thousand Fowle her lye 

All voyd of feare makinge ther Nest 

Noe treachrous Fowler here Comes nye 

Wt mortal gunnes to breake ther rest 

Some ioying in the sunn’s warme beames 

Ther fethers buisily doe plume ‘ 
Whilst others findinge Loue’s hott flames 

In waters allsoe can Consume 

And in all pastimes Inocent 

Are pleased in this Element 


How pleasant is itt to behold 

These ancient Ruinated Towers 

’'Gainst w? the Giants did of old 

W*» Insolence imploye ther Powers 

Now Sayters here ther Sabath keepe 

And Sperits w* our sence inspire 

Wt) frightinge dreames whilst we doe sleepe 
Noe here againe all day retire 

In thousand Chinkes & dusty holes 

Lyes vgly Batts & Scritchinge Owles 


66 


E. B. Reed, 


Que je trouve doux le ravage 
De ces fiers torrens vagabonds, 
Qui se precipitent par bonds 
Dans ce valon vert et sauvage! 
Puis, glissant sous les arbrisseaux, 
Ainsi que des serpens sur l’herbe, 
Se changent en plaisans ruisseaux, 
Ou quelque Naiade superbe 
Regne comme en son lict natal, 
Dessus un throsne de christal! 


Que j’aime ce marets paisible! 
Il est tout borde d’aliziers, 
D’aulnes, de saules et d’oziers, 
A qui le fer n’est point nuisible. 
Les Nymphes, y cherchans le frais, 
S’y viennent fournir de quenouilles, 
De pipeaux, de joncs et de glais; 
Ou l’on voit sauter les grenouilles, 
Oui de frayeur s’y vont cacher 
Si tost qu'on veut s’en approcher. 


La, cent mille oyseaux aquatiques 
Vivent, sans craindre, en leur repos, 
Le giboyeur fin et dispos, 

Avec ses mortelles pratiques. 

L’un, tout joyeux d’un si beau jour, 
S’amuse a becqueter sa plume; 
L’autre allentit le feu d’amour 

Qui dans l’eau mesme se consume, 
Et prennent tous innocemment 
Leur plaisir en cet element. 


. 


Que j’ayme a voir la decadence 
De ces vieux chasteaux ruinez, 
Contre qui les ans mutinez 
Ont deploye leur insolence! 

Les sorciers y font leur sabat; 
Les demons follets s’y retirent, 
Qui d’un malicieux ébat 
Trompent nos sens et nous martirent ; 
La se nichent en mille troux 
Les couleuvres et les hyboux. 





1 Fairfax omits a stanza here. 


MS. Fairfax go. 267 


These Mortal Augurs of Mischance 

Who funerall notes as Musick makes 

The Goblins singe & skipp & dance 

In valts ore spred wtt Toads & Snakes 

Ther in a Cursed beame might see 

The horred Skeliton of some poore louer 

Wh for his Mistriss Cruelty 

Hanged himselfe sence naught could moue her 
Or wth a glance nott once to daine 

To ease him of his mortal paine 


The Marble Stones here strew’d about 

Of Carracters leaue yett some signe 

But now are almost eaten outt 

By teeth of all deuouring time 

The planks & timber from aboue 

Downe to the lowest Valts are fau’ne 
Wher Toads & Vipers ‘mongst them moue 
Leauinge theron ther deadly spawne 

And Harths that once were vs’d fvr fyers 
Now shaded are wt" scratchinge Bryers 


Yet lower an Arched-Valt extends 

Soe hiddious darke & deepe doth sinke 
That did the Sun therin desend 

I thinke he scarce Could se a winke 
Slumber that from heauy Cares 

Wth drowsiness inchants our sence 
Sleepes here secure, as far from feares 
Lul’d in the Armes of Negligence 

And on her back in sluggish sort 

Vpon the pauement lyes & Snort 


When from these Ruings I doe goe 

Vp an aspiringe Rock nott farre 

Whose topp did seeme ast were to know 
Wher mists & Stormes ingendred are 

And then desending att my leasure 

Downe paths made by the storming Waues 
I did behold wt greater pleasure 

How they did worke the hollow Caues 

A worke soe Curious & soe rare 

As if that Neptuns Court were ther 


268 


E. B. Reed. 


L’orfraye, avec ses cris funebres, 
Mortels augures des destins, 
Fait rire et dancer les lutins 
Dans ces lieux remplis de tenebres. 
Sous un chevron de bois maudit 
Y branle le squelette horrible 
D’un pauvre amant qui se pendit 
Pour une bergere insensible, 
Qui d’un seul regard de pitie 
Ne daigna voir son amitié. 

1 


La se trouvent sur quelques marbres 


‘Des devises du temps passe ; 


Icy l'age a presque efface 

Des chiffres taillez sur les arbres; 
Le plancher du lieu le plus haut 
Est tombe jusques dans la cave, 
Que la limace et le crapaut 
Souillent de venin et de bave; 
Le lierre y croist au foyer, 

A Vombrage d’un grand noyer. 


La dessous s’estend une voute 
Si sombre en un certain endroit, 
Que, quand Phebus y descendroit, 
Je pense qu'il n’y verroit goutte; 
Le Sommeil aux pesans sourcis, 
Enchante d’un morne silence, 

Y dort, bien loing de tous soucis, 
Dans les bras de la Nonchalence; 
Laschement couche sur le dos 
Dessus des gerbes de pavos. 

1 

Tantost, sortant de ces ruines, 
Je monte au haut de ce rocher, 
Dont le sommet semble chercher 
En quel lieu se font les bruines ; 
Puis je descends tout a loisir, 
Sous une falaise escarpeée, 

D’ou je regarde avec plaisir 
L’onde qui l’a presque sappee 
Jusqu’au siege de Palemon, 
Fait d’esponges et de limon. 





1 Fairfax omits a stanza here. 


MS. Fairfax 4o. 269 


Tis a delightfull sight to see 
Standinge on the mufruringe shore 
[p. 561] When Calmer Seas begin to bee 
After the Stormes w*) raginge roare 
How the blew Trytons doe appeare 
Vpon the rollinge Curled Waues 
Beatinge wt hiddious tunes ‘the Ayre 
Wt» Crooked Trumpets Sea-men braues 
Att whose shrill notes the winds doe seeme 
By keepinge still to beare esteeme 


Sometimes the Sea wt Tempests rore 
Frettinge itt Can rise noe higher 
Roulinge or’e the flinty shore 
Throwes them vp againe retirés 

[p. 562} Somtimes through itt’s deuouringe Jawes 
When Neptun’s in an angry moode 
Poore mariners finde his Cruel lawes 
Made to his finy Subiects foode 
But Diamonds Amber & the Jett 
To Neptune they doe Consecrate 


Sometimes soe Cleare & soe serene 

Itt seemes ast were a looking glass 

And to our Vewes presenting seemes 

As heauens beneath the waters was 

The Sun in it’s soe clearely seene 

That contemplatinge this bright sight 
[p. 563] As’t was a doubt whether itt had beene 

Himselfe or image gaue the light 

Att first appearing to our eyes 

As if he had falne from the skyes 


Thus Alcidon whose loue inioynes 

To thinke for thee noe labor paine 
Receaue these Rustick Shepheards lines 
That’s from ther liuinge obiects ta’ine 
Sence I seeke only desart places 

Wher all alone my thoughts doe use 
Noe entertainment but what pleases 
The genius of my Rural Muse 

But noe thoughts more delighteth mee 
Then sweet Remembrances of thee 


Trans. Conn. Acan., Vol. XIV. 18 Juty, 1909. 


70 E. B. Reed, 


Que c’est une chose agreable 
D’estre sur le bord de la mer, 
Quand elle vient a se calmer 
Apres quelque orage effroyable! 
Et que les chevelus Tritons, 
Hauts, sur les vagues secouees, 
Frapent les airs d’estranges tons 
Avec leurs trompes enrouees, 
Doat Veclat rend respectueux 
Les vents les plus impetueux. 


Tantost l’onde, brouillant l’arene, 
Murmure et fremit de courroux, 
Se roullant dessus les cailloux 
QOu’elle apporte et qu’elle r’entraine. 
Tantost, elle estale en ses bords, 
Que lire de Neptune outrage, 
Des gens noyez, des monstres morts, 
Des vaisseaux brisez du naufrage, 
Des diamans, de l’ambre gris, 
Et mille autres choses de pris. 


Tantost, la plus claire du monde, 
Elle semble un miroir flottant, 
Et nous represente a l’instant 
Encore d’autres cieux sous l’onde. 
Le soleil s’y fait si bien voir, 
Y comtemplant son beau visage, 
Qu’on est quelque temps a scavoir 
Si c’est luy-mesme, ou son image, 
Et d’abord il semble a nos yeux 
Quill s’est laisse tomber des cieux. 


Berniéres, pour qui je me vante 
De ne rien faire que de beau, 
Recoy ce fantasque tableau 
Fait d’une peinture vivante. 

Je ne cherche que les deserts, 
Ou, resvant tout seul, je m’amuse 
A des discours assez diserts 

De mon genie avec la muse; 
Mais mon plus aymable entretien 


C’est le ressouvenir du tien. 
1 





1 Fairfax omits the two concluding stanzas. 


|p. 564] 


[p. 565} 


[p. 566] 


MS. Fairfax 4o. 2714 


Of a Faire Wife 


to Coregio 


Thou thinkst Coregio thou hast gott 
An exelent Beauty to thy lott 

But yet remember this againe 

For pleasure also thou’lt haue paine 
No perfect rest can be to thee 

When watchfull always thou must be 
T’is hard & difficult to keepe 

That all the world desire & seeke 

Is her beauty much, Then know 

Her pride’s noe less we she doth show 
Dost thou admire her th’more will shee 
For thy esteeme disdainfull be 

But is shee faire Consider this 

If shee be chast, some doubt it is 

As shee in hansomnes exceeds 

Soe much of Modesty shee needs 
Shee’l alwayes be a Mistress there 
Wher only thou Comand should beare 
But wouldst thou haue me to define 
This rare beauty that is thine 

Thy Idoll as thou make’s of itt 

Much more of Hurt then good thou gett 
For th’ Adoration by thee giuen 
Giues thee a Hell insteade of Heauen 
New habits daly shee will axe 

And if denyed then shee will vex 

And thinke all’s nothing in her passion 
That's nott in the Mode & fashion 

As if her Body were assign’d 

To giue Inquietud’s to thy minde 

Me thinke I see thee rauisht on her 
Thou blinde (as Idolizinge) Louer 
Ma’as soone begett Ixion’s brood 

On Juno’s Image in a cloude 


272 


[p. 567] 


[p. 568] 


[p. 569] 


[p. 570] 


B. E. Reed, 


Why shouldst thou longer thus submit 
To her who to obay’s more fitt 

Least when thy Reason once is lost 
Thy Liberty too itt will Cost 

And in the end butt as a slaue 

A soueraine for Companion haue 

To say noe worse of Beauty I Conclude 
It is but an Iustrious seruitude 


Of Beauty 


Beauty’s a fraile & brittle good 

Wb Sicknes Time & Age doe blast 
The Rose & Lilly in face thatt budd 
Hardly are keept & seldome last 
What hath she then to boast on Saue 
A fragil life & timely graue 


Beauty wher sweet Graces faile 

May be Compared vnto this 

A goodly ship w*tt out her saile 

A spring her fragrant flower doe miss 
A day want’s Sun or Torch itts Light 
A shrine want's Saint or Starless night 


But how doth Nature seeme to smother 

The Virtues of this louely Flower 

Who is of wanton Lust the Mother 

Of toyinge Vanity a Bowre 

Enimy of Peace the Fount wher Pride doe swime 
Th’ Incendeary of Strife of Passions Magazen 


Vpon a Patch Face 


Noe Beauty Spots should ladyes weare 
They but the Spots of beauty are 

Who knowes nott this (saue foolish Sotts) 
That Beauty aught to haue noe Spotts 
Some note a Spot that Venus had 

Admitt itt were in one soe badd 

Yett should nott shee haue Spots vpon Her 
That would be held a Maide of Honor 


|p. 571] 


[p. 572] 


|p. 572] 


[p. 573] 


MS. Fairfax 4o. 273 


Vpon an ill Husband 


All Creaturs else on Earth that are 
Whether they Peace affect or Warre 
Males ther Females ne’re opress 

By the Lyon safe lyes the Lyoness 

The Beares ther Mates noe harme procure 
Wth Wolfe the shee Woolfe liues secure 
And of the Bull the Earth w*" teeres 

The tender Heyfer has noe feares 

But men then these more brutish are 
Who wt ther wiues Contend & jarre 


Of Enuy 


In Enuy’s Face discerne I this 

Of Monsters shee most Monstrous is 
A hurtfull glance her eye doth dart 
A painfull paine lies att her hart 
Noe Good doe’s Man enioy by Right 
Her enuious teeth doth nott bitte 

To Carracterize her yitt more fitt 

Of Erringe blindness shee the Pitt 

A Hell to Natures swetest Life 
Reuenges Spur the flame of Strife 
Her Actions yett bespeake her worse 
To Ciuill Peace a vexinge Curse 
Temptation’s Sargent that’s assign’d 
The Sentinell of Restless minde 
More hurtfull to the soule by farr 
Then Vipers to the body are 

But in a word t’express this Euell 
T’ls the Sin peculier to the Diuill 


Of Anger 


Noe Passion’s rooted deeper or extends 
Her branches furder or that more offends 
Then Coller doth of w* no sex or Age 
Can boast a full exemption from itts rage 
And when it’s boundless fury growes 

It’s high distemper Madnes showes 


[p. 575| 


[p. 577] 


E. B. Reed, 


Soe oft as Man is Angery oh tis sadd 

He’s nott only weake but blinde & Madd 

Error for Truth imbraces & t’wer well 

If dearest freinds from enimys he Could tell 

A harmeless smile or from the eye a glance 
Though vndesign’d puts him into a trance 

And when his fury wakes how oft tis seene 
Frendships most sacred bonds disolued haue beene 
Who doth nott then discerne in sundry fashions 
How Man afflicted is wtt Angry passions 

More feirce then are some Brutes as may apeare 
They sometimes yeilds but he’s in full Cariere 
As Mariners when wtt amazement smitt 

The Pilots voyce in stormes regards nott itt 

Soe men in frenzy ther strange gesters are 

Wild as the beasts & Irreguler 

The flaminge fire w* Passions kindle flies 

In furious sparkes from his piercinge eyes 

His angry face by a reflux of blood 

That from his Hart assends becometh rude 

His haire wt» gastly horror stands vpright 

And euery word he speakes he seemes to bitt 
His hands & feet in ther excentrick Motions 
Breath naught but threats wt rash & bloody notions 
His Lookes soe terrible as doe portend 

A fatal Change vnto his nearest freind 

What must be then’s distempred soule wtin 
Soe vgly outward, but a sinke of Sin 


Of Virtue 


As wel tun’d Musick sweetly seize 

The sences soe doth’t Virtue please 

The Virtuous, force the Vitious too 
Th’admire in others what they should doe 
Those best loue virtue & her lawes 

That most Contemnes men’s vains aplaues 
Vertue alone all Grace inhance 

And she noe vse doth make of chance 
Whose effects are transcent in th’ euent 
What proceeds from virtue’s permenent 


[p. 578] 


MS. Fairfax go. 275 


Those things itt slights the World doe hold 
Pretious as Fortunes Goods & Gold 

These hath ther wings & flye away 

When Man desireth most ther Stay 

The virtious Soule prize most that some 
Thinkes but from sheepesh nature Come 
And nott from Grace the spring fro whence 
Flowes Virtue Goodnes Inocence 

Care thou for these sence they’le apeare 
Much surer Goods then Riches are 

Thy virtious acts goe wher thou will 

For Companions thou shalt haue still 

When Men shall faile & freindship both 

A better frende wth thee then goe’th 

Enuy att death shal Cease in Foes 

No Post-hume euel Malice knowes 


[p. 579] In transendent hight shal vertue shine 


|p. 582] 


|p. 583] 


Wher feet of Enuy Can not clime 
Virtue alone doth death outliue 

As't t’wer againe new life doth giue 
Whilst Goods of Fortune here haue ends 
Virtue alone to heauen assends 


Nature & Fortune 


What thing is nature we may thus define 
God draws’t through Beings in directst line 
Wher as in Fortune soe miscal’d by some 
More Crooked is & in Meanders rune 

As Natur’s rule by prouidence deuine 

Soe Fortune too in an obstrucer line 

Then Fortune is not blinde as vaine men says 
Tis they are blinde discerning not her wayes 


The Christian War-fare 


The marke of note Gods children here doe beare 
Is from the World’s a different Carrecter 

He to th’one for portion here beneath 

Doth Losses, Shame & Pouerty bequeath 


[p. 584] 


E. B. Reed, 


Yett happy those Aflictions wee account 
That to the State Eternal doe amount 

The worldly brood if we Caractrize 

Th’ haue noe Aflictions liue in Paridize 
Ther Riches here as they desire augment 
Ther Honors too increase to ther Content 
But as a dreame these Honers vanish soone 
And an eternal woe shal take ther Roome 
As fatt of Lambes away they shall Consume 
Ther Honor vanish into smoke & fume 


T’indure sorrowes & Iniuryes we must 


(As Scriptures tel) & be to exile thrust 

Then tis a signe indeed heauen is our choyse 
When in our Tribulations wee reioyce 

T’is Gileads pretious Balme & serues to binde 
The wounds & blowes w° here below we finde 
Yea happy choyse though thus the World vs treat 
Seing that in heauen our reward is great 

The Soulder of that name vnworthy is 

That trembles att the sight of enimyes 

Soe is the Christian w* that title bear’s 

If he att threats of aduerse destine fear’s 

But wth a patient calmness lett’s receaue 

What the Soueraigne hand is pleas’d to giue 


[p. 585] The Midle Region or those parts aboue 


Are least obscurd nor ther doe Tempests moue 

Soe should our soules be raysd boue Passions sphere 
Noe Stormes of Tongues Nor Cloudes of enuy feare 
In fronts of Batailes we our fortunes Sett 

The Ship at Sea wth stormy winds is bett 

The Pilot scapt from former gusts noe more 

Feare’s ship-wrack now then what he did before 
The Soulder oft to frequent perills knowne 
Neglect’s the danger that’s soe Comon growne 

And soe should we when our Aflictions growe 

Wt lenghtned Patience learne to beare them too 
This Life’s a war-fare if sometimes begun 

To parly wt» our sorrowes t’ls soone done 

And in th’ end when hopes begin to Cease 


[p. 586] Proues but a Cessation noe Continu’d Peace 


Whilst through cleare skyes the Sun triumphant rides 
Vpon a sudden cloudes his splendor hides 


|p. 587] 


[p. 588] 


MS. Fairfax 4o. 277 


Doth health & Pleasure spur our sences on 
Soon sickness Comes and all delights are gone 
Such is the State of vs vncertaine men 

To know in calmes to guide our Vessels then 

Is not enough, but tis when Tempests rise 

To steare a Course both Patient, Stout, & Wise 
Did our misfortunes soe deuide our share 

As some shee would Aflict & others Spare 

We might Complaine of her inconstant fitts 
Bullets as soon th’ Captaine as soulder hitts 

The Feauer to the Great a deafe eare hath 

As to the meanest both subuerts by death 

Soe may the Justice of Impartial fate 

For Comfort serue vs in our greatest Strait 
Why doe we enuy then aspiringe Men 

Wt Stormes the Vallyes are less troubled then 
The lofty Hills & humble shrubbs belowe 

Less danger’s in then Oakes that highest growe! 
See we not how the straitest Popler tree 

And spredinge Elme as they vngratfull be 

For nurishment) to barreness incline 

Whilst prostrate on the ground the Crocked vine 
Abundance yeilds or haue we nott seene 

From highest plenty men in wants haue beene 
How many Kings falne from ther Regall seate 
Haue Crack’t their Crownes ther Royal Septers breake 
Our Wittnesses by cloudes we all may bringe 
To shew that splendid honours a vaine thinge 
Should they be ta’ne from vs resolue thus much 
Ther loss should not be great ther fading’s such 
Should we aflict ourselues when loss appear’s 
Our Teares would sooner want then Cause for teares 
All you wt heauenly Marks of God indued 
Arme to the Fight shew Virtue Fortitude 

As Rocks ’gainst we! the raging billowes rore 
Keepe firme ther station on the threatned shore 
Soe let our Soules be firme & Constant still 
Against the threats this World doth make of Ill 
Or as a Diamon mongst the dust doth dart 

The beauty more in itt’s resplendent sparke 








1 Cf. Horace, Carm. II 10. 


278 


[p. 589] 


[p. 590} 


|p. 594] 


E. B. Reed, 


In midst of troubles soe lett vs demeane 

As Countinances be pleasant Soules serene 
Remember t'is from high Aflictions fall 

From Prouidence deuine that gouern’s all 
Who when he please in turning of an eye 
Turn’s Wrath to Mercy Sorrows into Joy 
T’is he who made the firtile Earth produce 
Her anual fruit most meet for humaine vse 
He both the Rose & Violets did Cloth 

Tis he beauty & th’oders gaue to both 
‘Twas his Almighty power that did make fall 
Att Israels seige the Jereconian Wall 

That on’s Enimyes ruing he might raise 
Trophy on Trophy to inrich his Prayse 

Shal we then those his wonders now less prize 
Or thinke his Power abat’s, or hee less wise 
No, hee’s as able still Nor shall His want 
Victory on Standards Glory on ther front 


Life & Death Compared together 


Such vulgar thoughts the World doe fill 
To thinke Life good Death only ill 
Then life ill lived noe euell’s worse 
Death (dieing well) remoues the Curse 
And tis for certaine truth men tell 

He ne’re dies ill that liveth well 

Ill liues doe but ther Ills increase 

But dieng well makes Euells Cease 
Badd men haite death but not soe much 
That itt is Ill, as They are such 

Moral Men teache vs in their bookes 
That we should dispise death’s grime lookes 
T’is Comon sence w* doth inspire 

Ther feares of thatt Good men desire 
Nor Can we truly death define 

By makinge odious what’s sublime 
Consider’t in th’ effects & soe itt will 
Plead much for death be’t Good or Ill 
Say itt be Ill yett here’s the Good 

To greater Ills it giues a period 

In life what one good thinge is ther 


[p. 592] 


[p- 592] 


|p. 593] 


[p. 594} 


MS. Fairfax 4o. 279 


To keepe our Passions Reguler 
The many Ills each day is done 
Makes Death less fear’d but once to come 
But rather thanke Death that’s the Cause 
Our Ills are not Imortal Lawes 


Vpon a Fontaine 


Seest thou how these waters flowe 
How soone againe away itt glides 
Soe worldly Glory’s but a showe 
That neuer long wt» vs abides! 


Vpon the New-built 
House att Apleton 


Thinke not 6 Man that dwells herein 
This House’s a Stay but as an Inne 
Wh for Conuenience fittly stands 

In way to one nott made wt' hands 
But if a time here thou take Rest 
Yett thinke Eternity’s the Best 


Shortness of Life 


In Rosy mor’ne I saw Aurora red 

But when the Sun his beames had fully spred 
She vanisht I saw a Frost then a Dew 

T’wixt time soe short as scarce a time I knew 
This stranger seemd when in more raised thought 
I saw Death Come How soone a life he’ad Caught 
Wher in the turninge of an eye he’ad done 

Farre Speedier execution then the Sun 





Pour une Fontaine 
Vois tu, passant, couler cette onde 
Et s’ecouler incontinent ? 
Ainsi fuit la gloire du monde 
Et rien que Dieu n’est permanent Malherbe. 


[p. 596] 


[p. 597| 


E. B. Reed, 


Epitaph on A V dieng Younge 


O what affront was itt to Nature 

And sadder Influence of the Skyes 

That in a moment clos’d the Eyes 

Of such a machless Creature 

But askinge what might be the Reason 
That Creuel Fate soe out of season 

Had Caried her from vs soe farre 

This Answer was to me returnd 

Least that the Earth should bee burnd 

By th’ scorching beames of that bright starr 


The Lady Caryes 
Elogy on my deare Wife 


O Fatal fall might not those heapes suffice 

This Sumer Captiu’d but thou must surprize 
The best of Nobels this soe great good Lady 

A Vere A Fairfax Honours-Honour, Shee 

Did grace her Birth Sex Relate & Degree 

& Shee a Non-parell for Piety 

Vers't in the Theory of Godliness 

The we) she did in Conference express 

Its Practick part her life to life did shew 

Each way but most excellinge in all vew 

Was Faith Submission vnweared pleasantnes 
With vniuersal weaknes, Paine Sickness 

Many longe lasting Great few euer sence 

Soe followed Job in suffringe Patience 

But she is now most gloriously exalted 

Wher sin & sorrow neuer entred 

To Mount Zion heauenly Jerusalem 

The City of God to Sperits of Just men 

To Church of the first borne to Angels blest 
To God to Jesus this Compleats the rest 

Her Faith saw this wt made her smile att death 
And wth much Joy surrendred vp her breath 
Her Body deare her All thats out of Heauen 
To Billbrough church as a riche Treasure’s giuen 
Bilbrough church-yeard daine me a little roome 
That after death my graue waite on her Tombe. 


[p. 598] 


MS. Fairfax 4o. 


To the Lady Cary 


Vpon her Verses on my deare Wife 


Madam 


[p. 599] 


Could I a Tribute of my thanks express 

As you haue done in loue & purer Verse 

On my best selfe then I might Justly raise 

Your Elogy t’Encomiums of your Prayse 

And soe forgett the Subiect that did moue 

Me to a thankfulnes as’t did you to loue 

O t’were to great a Crime but pray allow 

Wher I fall short but you haue reached to 
Makinge that Good wisest of Kings hath said 
Th’ Liuing’s not soe Preyse-worthy then the dead 
I thinke the Reason’s this itts grounded on 
‘Cause Mercys are not priz’d till they are gone 

O had not hopes surpast my grosser sence 

My loss Could not haue had a recompence 

Yett such an Influence hath your happy straine 
To bring my buried Joy to life againe 

Vertue Goodnes Loue things Imortalize 

The better part when as the other dies 

True, Soules in Bodyes haue ther being here 
But Loues in Soules haue ther ther proper Sphere 
Then is true loue Compos’d of Nobler fyers 
Then to extinguish when the Life expires 

Butt to Conclude Madam me think you ’spire 

In humblest Thoughts to raise your Trophys higher 
Then Her’s you would attend in gelid Mould 
W for her Friend the lodging seemes too Could 


[p. 600] But were itt soe itt my good happ might bee 


[p. 600] 


To lye next Her, To you our Quire is free 


On the Fatal day 
Jan: 30 1648 


Oh lett that Day from time be blotted quitt 
And lett beleefe oft in next Age be waued 
In deepest silence th’ Act Concealed might 
Soe that the King-doms Credit might be saued 


281 


282 E. B. Reed, 


But if the Power deuine permited this 
His Will’s the Law & ours must acquiesse 


Cure loquuntur leues 
Ingentes stupent 


[p. 601 | Of Inpartial Fate 


Here we all the Same Danger run 

By the like Destin’s we are ledd 

Same Misfortune to the Shepeard Come 

May attack as well the Crowned head 

Our dayes are Spun vpon that wheele 

The meanest Subiect & greatest Kinge 

To like end th’ Fatal Sisters bringe 

The thread when Cutt both same Sisers feele 


[f. 604] A Carracter of the Romish 
Church by Francisco Petrarca 
Laura Can: 106 


Fiamma dal ciel su tue treccie pioua 


Heauens dire flame sits on thy Curled tresses 

O wrech, from scrip & wallet who’s become 

Both riche & great through those w% thou oppresses 
Soe much reioyces thou when euells Come 

A nest of Treasons wher mischeifes bredd 

Ther hacht in the o’re the World is spred 


Wine Bed good Belly chere & pleasant dayes 

To All, thy whoredoms to the vttmost shews 
|p. 605] Thy seruants younge & old the wanton playes 

This fire wth bellowes Bel-ze-bub blowes 

Such is thy life thou wicked Epicure 

As to the Heauens thy stinch is gone vp sure 


Fountaine of Greefe & woe wraths harbor too 
Temple of Heresy Pitt of Errors deepe 

In elter times we held thee Rome but now 
Babel the peruerse for wet wee weepe 

A shopp of Cousnage prison of Crueltyes 
Wher ills mentaind & wher Goodnes dyes 


== sel 


MS. Fairfax 4o. 


When founded first wast humble Poore & Chast 

Thy hornes against thy Founders now thou lifts 
[p. 606] O shameles Strumpet wher’s thy trust now plast 

Is’t in th’ Adultryes ill gott Goods or Shiffts 

Then vnto All great wonder itt will bee 

If Christ in th’ End powre nott his wrath on thee! 


[Fiamma dal ciel su le tue trecce piova, 
Malvagia, che dal fiume e dalle ghiande, 
Per l’altru’ impoverir se’ ricca e grande; 
Poiche di mal oprar tanto ti giova: 

Nido di tradimenti, in cui si cova 
Quanto mal per lo mondo oggi si spande; 
Di vin serva, di letti e di vivande, 

In cui lussuria fa Vultima prova. 

Per le camere tue fanciulle e vecchi 
Vanno trescando, e Belzebub in mezzo 
Co’ mantici e col foco e con gli specchi. 

Gia non fostu nudrita in piume al rezzo, 
Ma nuda al vento, e scalza fra li stecchi: 
Or vivi si, ch’a Dio ne venga il lezzo. 


Fontana di dolore, albergo d’ira, 
Scola d’errori, e tempio d’eresia ; 
Gia Roma, or Babilonia falsa e ria, 
Per cui tanto si piagne e si sospira. 
O fucina d’inganni, o prigion dira, 
Ove ‘1 ben more, e 11 mal si nutre e cria; 
Di vivi Inferno; un gran miracol fia, 
Se Cristo teco alfine non s’adira. 
Fondata in casta ed umil povertate, 
Contra tuoi fondatori alzi le corna, 
Putta sfacciata: e dov’ hai posto spene? 
Negli adulterj tuoi, nelle malnate 
Ricchezze tante? Or Constantin non torna; 
Ma tolga il mondo triste che ’l sostene.?| 


283 





1 See page 245. 
2 These sonnets are not in the MS. 


284 


[p. 612] 


[p. 613] 


[p. 614} 


[p. 615] 


[p. 617] 


[p. 618] 


E. B. Reed, 


Vpon the Horse w* his Matie 
Rode vpon att his Coronation 1660 


Hence then Dispaire my hopes why should itt bury 
Sence this braue Steed Bredd first was in my Query 
Now thus aduanc’t wth highest honors loden 

Whilst his that bredd him on by most Mens troden 
But tis noe matter Seing tho’ hast gott th’ Aduance 
Then please the Royal Rider wt» thy Prance 

Soe may thy Fame much rayse thy Prayses higher 
Then Chessnut that begott the or Brid-la-dore his Sire 


Bridla-dore (Anglice) 
Golden Bridle 


Vulgar Proverbs 


None to another freind can be 
That to himselfe’s an enimy 


Of sence & Money & of Faith 
Where's the Man that too much hath 


Betwixt the Bridle & the Spur 
Reason often lodgeth her 


In th’ house of Foes prepose this End 
To gett some Woman for thy freind 


The Hope of Gaine—Abateth paine 


Wouldst thou have all thy troubles cease 
Then see & heare & hold thy peace 


Lait (doe we say) repents the Ratt 
When by the Neck has hold the Catt 


His thoughts are good & ever best 


That carryes Death w*tin his brest 


A fatt Earth makes a Horse to labour 
But A good Lawyer is an ill Neighbour 


Make Night of Night & Day of Day 
Soe wt less sorrow live you may 


Pardon to Men that evel be 
Unto the God’s an injury 


[p- 


[p. 


. 635] 


MS. Fairfax 4o. 


bo 
ss 
cn 


When Pride on horseback getteth upp 
Loss & shame sitts on the Croup 


He that would live in healthfulnes 
Must dine w'® little & supp w' less 


As the evening doth the day comend 
So life is Praysed by the end 


Virtue shewes the greater grace 
Shining from a bautious face 


Att a rounde Table noe Strife is 
Who shal be nearest a good Dish 


Dry March Wett Aprel May that’s both 
Brings plenty wher ther is noe sloth 


In a fresh gale 
Extend thy Saile 


We may be sure still inocence 
Beares in itselfe its owne defence 


To read & yitt to have learn’d nought 
Is like the chase wher nothing’s caught 


Tis good we should the tongue comand 
Speake litle & more understand 

For if from us our words once fall 

It is too laite them to recall 


Humaine Praise—Is a vaine blaze 


Sett on a Seat a Foole e’re longe 
He’le wagg his Legges or sing a songe 


Nature made nothing so sublime 


Butt Virtue to the topp will clime 


When a whit frost on earth doth lie 
Tis a presage then raine is nie 


On a womans first Counsel rest 
Seldome the Second is the best 


Bread Butter & good Cheese 
A shield ’gainst death be al these 


Trans, Conn. Acap., Vol. XIV. 19 Juty, 1909. 


286 EE. B. Reed, 


Pardon give to every one 
But to thyselfe alow none. 


[p. 637] When Italy is wttout Fish 
When France wttout Treason is 
In England longe noe war we see 
Then wthout Earth the World shall bee. 


[p. 638] My contry is in all lands wher 
I goe & meet w'' true friends ther. 


[p. 641] 


[p. 642] 


[p. 643} 


MS. Fairfax 4o. 287 


The teares of France for the 
deplorable death of Henry 4 
surnamed the Great 


Ah is itt then Great Henry soe fam’d 

For taming men himselfe by death is tam’d 
Whatt eye his glory saw now his sad doome 
But must desolue in Teares sigh out his Soule 
Soe small a shred of Earth should him intombe 
Whos acts deseru’d pocession of the whole 


O tis but fitt for joyes we henceforth mourne 
Our songes & mirth into sad plaints we turne 
Instead of this great King greefe may raigne here 
So thatt in sorrow plung’d our fainting breath 
May send our endless sighs to th’highst Sphere 
Whilst hopless teares distill vpon the earth 


Yis itt is fitt what else can we returne 

Butt teares as offrings to his sacred vrne 

Wth them his Sable Marble tombe bedew 

No no such armes too weake sence itt apeares 
For vs he of his blood too careless grew 

Haue we naught else for him butt a few teares 


O could our eyes to fontains we distill 

T’ Would nott abaite the least part of our ill 
We oft shed teares for simple wrongs oft weepe 
Too Comon oft for things of lesser prise 

Then lett vs die att this great Monarchs feet 
His Tombe th’ Alter, our selues, the sacrifice 


But who can die if Sisters Fate denies 

A closure to our half death trickling eyes 
Hauing shut vp those of this warrlike Prince 
Atropos so proud’s of her royal pray 

Her Cypriss into laurels will turne, Sence 

Of this great Victor she hath gott the day 


But sence we are ordain’d to sigh & liue 

And after this ther faitall stroke then giue 

Liue then complaining this sad shock of Fate 
Wher happy days are gone, no ioy appeares 
Then mourne & sigh till death our greefe abate 
And shew whilst liuing, Life shal wast in teares 


288 


Les oe niece 


[1 Quoi? faut-il que Henri, ce redoute monarque, 
Ce dompteur des humains, soit dompte par la Parque ? 
Que l’ceil qui vit sa gloire ores voye sa fin? 
Que le nostre pour lui incessamment degoutte ? 
Et que si peu de terre enferme dans son sein 
Celui qui meritoit de la posseder toute ? 


Quoi? faut-il qu’a jamais nos joies soyent esteintes ? 
Que nos chants et nos ris soyent convertis en plaintes ? 
Qu’au lieu de nostre roi le deuil regne en ces lieux ? 
Que la douleur nous poigne et le regret nous serre ? 
Que sans fin nos sousoirs montent dedans les cieux ? 
Que sans espoir nos pleurs descendent sur la terre ? 


Il le faut, on le doit. Et que pouvons-nous rendre 
Que des pleurs assidus, a cette auguste cendre ? 
Arrousons a jamais son marbre triste blanc. 

Non, non, plustost quittons ces inutiles armes! 
Mais puisqu’il fut pour nous prodigue de son sang, 
Serions-nous bien pour lui avares de nos larmes ? 


Quand bien nos yeux seroyent convertis en fontaines, 
Ils ne sauroyent noyer la moindre de nos peines. 
On espanche des pleurs pour un simple meschef. 
Un devoir trop commun bien souvent peu s’estime. 
Il faut doncques mourir aux pieds de nostre chef. 
Son tombeau soit l’autel et nos corps la victime 


Mais qui pourroit mourir? Les Parques filandieres 
Desdaignent de toucher a nos moites paupieres, 
Ayans ferme les yeux du prince des guerriers. 
Atropos de sa proye est par trop glorieuse ; 

Elle peut bien changer ses cypres en lauriers, 
Puisque de ce vainqueur elle est victorieuse. 


Puisqu'il nous faut encor et souspirer et vivre, 
Puisque la Parque fuit ceux qui la veulent suivre, 
Vivons donc en plaignant nostre rigoureux sort, 
Nostre bonheur perdu, nostre joye ravie; 
Lamentons, souspirons, et jusques a la mort 
Tesmoignons qu’en vivant nous pleurons nostre vie. 











1 See page 246. This is not in the MS. 


|p. 644] 


MS. Fairfax 4o. 289 


Bewaile bewaile this our great Monarchs fall 

Of Judgment perfait humour pleasing all 

His equal none a Hart w'*out all feare 

Perfection such t’would but fall short in prayse 
Enough to’ aue serued a World to’ aue admird here 
Had nott his equal Justice bound his wayes 


Lament lament this Sage & Prudent King 
Thatt hight of Bonty, vigelence in him | 
Thatt hart we could be mou'd not ouercome 
Virtues here rarely found though we inquire 
Parts I could sooner much admire then sume 
Sence this Achilis a Homer would require 


We caifiott count the Splendours of his Glorys 

Nor number yitt his signal victorys 

O no for such a subiect were too great 

We aught to prayse what yitt we cannot write 
And hold our peace or to good purpose speake 
He nothing saith doth not to th’ full recite 


His famous acts once raisd our drouping heads 
His Laurels from the temples was our shades 
End of his Combats ended feares wee’re in 
Him only pris’d dispis’d all other Powers 

More gloring to be subiect to this King 

Then if we’ad had some other Kings for ours 


But now this Glory’s clouded wt" a staine 

And now our joy & Mirth ther leaue hath taine 

The Lillys faide as we att this sad Fate 

Downe to the growne ther drouping heads doe bowe 
Seeming as humble as Compassionate 

To crowne his Tombe or else him homage doe 


[pp. 645, 646 are blank} 


290 Eb: Reed) MS. Farjax 40. 


Plaignons, pleurons sans fin cet esprit admirable, 
Ce jugement parfait, cet’ humeur agreable, 
Cet hercule sans pair aussi bien que sans peur, 
Tant de perfections qu’en loiiant on souspire. 
Qui pouvoyent asservir le monde a sa valeur, 
Si sa rare équité n’eust borne son Empire. 


Regrettons, souspirons cette sage prudence, 
Cette extreme bonte, cette rare vaillance, 
Ce coeur qui se pouvoit fleschir et non dompter. 
Vertus de qui la perte est a nous tant amere 
Et que je puis plustost admirer que chanter, 
Puisqu’ a ce grand Achille il faudroit un Homere. 


Pourroit-on bien conter le nombre de ses gloires ? 
Pourroit-on bien nombrer ses insignes victoires ? 
Non, d’un si grand discours le dessein est trop haut. 
On doit louér sans fin ce qu’on ne peut escrire, 

Il faut humble se taire ou parler comme il faut, 
Et celui ne dit rien qui ne peut assez dire. 


Jadis pour ses beaux faits nous eslevions nos testes, 
L’ombre de ses lauriers nous gardoit des tempestes, 
La fin de ses combats finissoit nostre effroi. 
Nous nous prisions tous seuls, nous mesprisions les autres, 
Estant plus glorieux d’estre subjects du roi 
Que si les autres rois eussent este les nostres. 


Maintenant nostre gloire est a jamais ternie, 
Maintenant nostre joye est pour jamais finie; 
Les lys sont atterez et nous avecques eux. 
Dafne baisse, chetifve, en terre son visage, 
Et semble par ce geste, humble autant que piteux, 
Ou couronner sa tombe ou bien lui faire hommage.| 





1 Fairfax omits a stanza here. 


TRANSACTIONS OF THE 


CONNECTICUT ACADEMY OF ARTS AND SCIENCES 


INCORPORATED A. D. 1799 


VOLUME 14, PAGES 291-444, MARCH, 1910 


The English Moral Plays 


BY 


RebeRtiN. os THOMPSON, Ph.D. 


ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH IN THE STATE UNIVERSITY OF IOWA 


PUBLISHED UNDER THE AUSPICES OF 





NEW HAVEN, CONNECTICUT 


1910 . 


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WEIMAR: PRINTED BY R. WAGNER SOHN 





V.—Tue EncuisH Mora Puays. 
By Etvsert N. S. THompson. 


Cuapter [.—TuHe ALLIANCE OF THE PULPIT AND THE STAGE. 


The beginnings of the medieval miracle-plays have been very 
clearly traced to the tropes that were added in the tenth century 
to the antiphonal portions of the Gregorian service. As yet the 
origins of the morality plays have not been determined with equal 
certainty; partial investigations have yielded only tentative con- 
clusions. The old idea, that the moralities developed from the slight 
allegorical elements of the late miracle-plays, has been convincingly 
set aside. The influences, too, of the Psychomachia, of the popular 
Dance of Death, and of the allegorical handling of the verse in 
the Psalms, ‘“‘Mercy and truth are met together; righteousness and 
peace have kissed each other,” have been made clear, and of late 
more thoroughly studied. But a careful examination of the contents 
and the spirit of the English moralities will reveal more concerning 
their origin and growth, and, the author believes, will eventually 
justify the conclusion that both branches of the sacred drama were 
devised by churchmen to supplement and enforce Christian teach- 
ing. The miracle-plays, like the carvings on the portals of the 
Amiens cathedral or the figures on the windows of Chartres, pur- 
posed to teach the facts of sacred history; the moral plays, by 
placing upon the stage personifications of virtues and vices to re- 
present concretely the temptations that man must face and the means 
of overcoming them, served to reiterate the moral and doctrinal 
message of the pulpit. One received its first development in con- 
nection with the antiphonal elements of the mass; the other was 
the direct outgrowth of the ensuing homily. 

It would be a great mistake to suppose that early Christian worship 
consisted chiefly of liturgical forms, to the exclusion or subordination 
of the sermon. The record of Christ’s life, the example of the 
Apostles, and the tradition of the Jewish synagogue, established at 
once both the duty and the method of oral instruction. The earliest 
preachers went forth as missionaries to carry the gospel to distant 
nations. But almost as soon, certainly in the time of the Apostolic 
Fathers, each community of believers was accustomed to receive 
religious instruction from its duly appointed leader. Since this 
parish preaching was the church’s readiest means of getting its 


294 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


doctrinal and ethical teaching before the people, its importance, 
naturally, was at once recognized. On Sundays and festival days 
the sermon had its own fixed place, usually following the reading 
of the Scriptures, in the regular order of worship. Nor was the 
preaching confined to such occasions. Many of Augustine’s homilies 
attest the fact that at certain seasons of the year he was wont to 
preach almost daily, sometimes, we are told, five times a week. 
Moreover, long series of sermons on various books of the Bible, 
like Augustine’s on the Psalms, or Chrysostom’s on Romans, were 
common; for even those leaders on whom the cares of administration 
bore most heavily did not shght their parochial work. Instant they 
were both in season and out of season; during the period when 
the new religion was still subject to persecution, the foundations 
of Christian homiletics were strongly laid, and when persecution 
ceased, the pulpit orator became an acknowledged leader of society.! 

The earliest sermons were very simple, if not quite extempora- 
neous, expositions of the Scriptural lessons that preceded them, 
with a few words added of pertinent admonition and exhortation. 
This combination, however, of explanation and application, which 
the example of Origen had fully established, proved susceptible 
of rich development. Gradually the structure and composition of 
the sermon were given more thought; its appeal under the influence 
of the powerful Tertullian became more direct and forceful; and 
its scope, in the fourth century, was broadened by the introduction 
of doctrinal teaching. In all these respects the sermon grew in 
power till its high, but perfectly normal, culmination was reached, 
for the Greek church in the impassioned eloquence of Chrysostom, 
and for the Latin church in the clear, practical addresses of Au- 
gustine, the profoundest theologian of his age. Through all classes 
of society in Antioch and Constantinople, Chrysostom’s denunciation 
of vice and pleading for righteousness exerted an influence that 
made him feared and hated by evil-doers, but loved by his people. 
From his pulpit in the west, Augustine battled against heresy and 
sin with a power that often left his hearers in tears. 

This, the high-water mark of early Christian preaching, was soon 
to be succeeded by long centuries of decline and impotence.? The 
right to preach was vested in the bishops alone, and although they, 
when prevented from performing such service by sickness or en- 
forced absence, were allowed to license substitutes,* the number of 





1 Dargan, 63-64. 2 Milman, Bk. 9, chap. 9. 
3 Lecoy de la Marche, 21—26. 


The English Moral Plays 295 


preaching churchmen was altogether inadequate to meet the rapidly 
growing demands. The bishops and monks, moreover, were rendered 
worldly by the management of their secular affairs, while the parish 
priests remained too ignorant or too indifferent to guide the people. 
Consequently, oral instruction from the pulpit, especially in rural 
districts, was infrequent and poor. Nevertheless, even in the darkest 
period there were hopeful indications. Charlemagne and the ec- 
clesiastics of his time urged that every priest be empowered, and 
even forced, to preach.t_ As another means of increasing the common 
usefulness of the sermon, in the ninth century exhortation in the 
open air was encouraged.? And that even the ignorant clergymen 
upon whom these new responsibilities were thrust might have sound 
teaching to offer, collections of homilies were prepared. All this 
indicates that religious instruction from the pulpit was not forgotten 
or contemned. Its high traditions would have been kept alive, if 
in no other way, by the Pastoral Care which Gregory prepared 
for the instruction of the clergy. That much admired treatise insists 
with special emphasis that the priest should not be a dumb servant 
of God. He should understand, to be sure, that discretion often- 
times recommends silence; but he should also be alert to seize 
those occasions that demand fearless speech. With the aim, there- 
fore, of teaching the clergy to speak effectively, yet with moderation, 
“to exhort by sound doctrine and to convince the gainsayers,” the 
treatise gives explicit directions for the preparation of sermons. 
Such instruction came with telling effect from Gregory, who him- 
self set so high an example of faithful and intelligent effort in 
preaching. The Pastoral Care was read all over Europe, even 
being translated into Old English by King Alfred, and given, as 
far as possible, to every English} priest; and it must have been, 
to all but the most faithless, a constant reminder of the duties and 
responsibilities of priesthood. 

The latent energy of the medieval church, of which these facts 
give but a faint indication, reawakened to a new period of activity 
in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. The higher clergy, frighten- 
ed by the persuasive oratory of heretical teachers, entered with 
new zeal upon their labors among men. At the same time, the 
truer learning and richer spirituality that ripened in the monasteries, 
impatient of narrow seclusion, filled the monks with a desire to 
guide and control. The story of Bernard of Clairvaux shows how 
fruitful monasticism could be. Finally, in the early thirteenth cen- 





1 Hering, 55-58, 2 Lecoy de la Marche, 226—29. 


296 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


tury, the preaching friars of the Dominican and Franciscan orders 
carried to all parts of Europe the teachings of Christianity, and 
by their example forced all orders of the clergy to render more 
efficient and unselfish service to their fellow men. Then, as perhaps 
never before, from a sense of what humanity had lost through its 
neglect, the Church gave guidance and inspiration to the common 
people. The Crusades, the cathedrals, the saints’ legends, and the 
sacred plays, bear witness to the moral awakening. The people 
were ready for instruction, and the priests and friars strove ear- 
nestly to teach them. 

In accepting this new understanding of their duties to man, the 
preachers of the time changed radically their methods. They were 
at once forced to adapt their instruction, as the friars did, to the 
ill-trained audiences they addressed. In so doing they but followed 
a course not unknown in actuality, and long sanctioned in theory. 
The simplicity and directness of Augustine’s discourses witness con- 
clusively to the pains he took to reach the people. The necessity 
for such practical adaptation had been explained in detail by 
Gregory the Great in the long third part of the Pastoral Care. 
Moreover, in 816 those churchmen who seemed inclined to forget 
the teaching were reminded by the Council of Aix-la-Chapelle that 
the same kind of nourishment was not suited to all stomachs.’ 
Preachers, therefore, were unquestionably familiar with the principle ; 
and they must soon have learned by experience, as their sermons 
were interrupted by disorders, or as they saw groups of men leaving 
their churches, what popular oratory demanded.2 The first reform, 
of course, was to substitute for the Latin language, which was 
always used in addressing the clergy, the speech of the people. 
Grosseteste at Lincoln and Abbot Samson at Bury St. Edmunds 
preached, and insisted that others preach, in English. But preachers 
had also to learn to vary their treatment of a subject to render it 
suitable to particular occasions. Undoubtedly, the friars showed 
the greatest readiness in adaptation, carrying it so far in the next 
century as to lay themselves open to charges of insincerity and fraud. 
But in general the preachers of the age worked zealously and 
creditably to impress upon the world the truths that it had for- 
gotten. 

In this common movement of reform and expansion the arts of 
the orator and rhetorician were not overlooked. Honorius of Autun 


1 Lecoy de la Marche, 207—08. 2) Tibid-; 2b: 
3 Speculum Ecclesiae, 830, Stevenson, 32, 297. 





The English Moral Plays 297 


warned the speaker that he should neither gesticulate as though 
he were throwing his words at the congregation, nor stand with 
closed or averted eyes; rather he should speak, as the rhetoricians 
teach, with moderate gestures, and in a carefully studied manner.' 
Owing, however, to the current opinion that less difficulty was ex- 
perienced in the composition and delivery of sermons than in the 
gathering of material,? homiletic treatises were more often designed 
to furnish the busy or unfruitful priest with matter suitable for 
discourse. At the close of his famous collection of sermons, the 
Speculum Ecclesiae, Honorius of Autun expressed the belief that all 
preachers filled with ardor for heavenly things would find its many 
homilies on the gospels and on the lives of saints and martyrs an 
aid in pastoral labor. He had been induced to undertake the work, 
his preface explains, by his fellow clergymen, who had found the 
incomparable sacred writings of the Fathers, either because of their 
antiquity or because of their elevation of thought, ill suited in 
certain respects to the audiences of their own time. Hence he 
had gathered in this series of sermons the most vital teaching of 
Ambrose, Augustine, Jerome, Gregory, and many other noted 
preachers, adapting the material, by a convenient arrangement ac- 
cording to the order of church festivals, and by a clear and simple 
style of composition, to the needs of the day. The Speculum Ec- 
clesiae was one of the earliest compilations that sought thus to 
preserve in practical working shape the best thought of the past. 

For the student of the allegorical drama, however, the most sug- 
gestive example of this type of literature is Alain de Lille’s Summa 
de Arte Praedicatoria. The greater part of the work is devoted to 
expositions in praise of virtues like patience and obedience, and in 
condemnation of vices such as envy and pride, and to exhortations 
to prayer, penance, and other religious duties that the church 
wished to stress. Exactly these same lessons appeared later in the 
morality plays in dramatic guise, as though the authors had studied 
to good purpose the pages of the treatise. Alain de Lille’s method, 
though, is still purely expository. After citing at the beginning of 
each chapter verses from the Bible applicable to the ethical trait 
under consideration, he enters upon a discussion of its distinctive 
qualities and effects that is marked by the orderly, systematic 





1 A story of Demosthenes’ eloquence in the A/phadet of Tales (No. 639), 
concludes, ‘‘a grete parte of Demostenes wantys when it is red, mor 
pan when it is hard.” 

2 Humbert de Romanis, 456. 

5 1085. 


298 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


method of the age. He, too, drew freely from the writings of the 
Fathers. The scope of this extensive treatise on the virtues and 
vices, the author’s keen analysis of man’s varied psychic motives 

and the sensible, forceful doctrine that concludes the chapters, must. 
have done much to vitalize and quicken in the thirteenth century the 
objective study of the conflicting impulses of the inner life, and thus. 
to prepare the way for the morality plays. 

The leaders of the church, however, felt that it was not enough 
to collect in such treatises the doctrines that preachers were re- 
quired to expound; they believed that full directions should also. 
be given for the most effective employment of the material. 
Honorius, accordingly, gave numerous suggestions for those who 
were to use the sermons of the Speculum Ecclesiae. “Let this be 
the end, if you wish,” he notes at one point, “but time remaining,. 
this may be added.”! Later he marks a possible end for a dis- 
course in case the preacher found that excessive heat or cold, or 
any other inconvenience, was interfering with the audience’s atten- 
tion. Of other sermons he designates certain portions as useful 
only on certain specified occasions, or in churches consecrated to: 
particular saints. These hints remain always quite incidental; for 
the sermons have an independent value that would render them 
frequently appropriate. Quite different, though, are the sermons in 
one whole section of the De Eruditione Praedicatorum, which were 
prepared by Humbert expressly to illustrate the mode of adapting 
discourse to special places and occasions—‘ad omne genus nego- 
tiorum.”’* One address he frames for a meeting of the higher clergy ; 
another he intends for a service consecrating a graveyard; a third 
is to welcome returning pilgrims. For every conceivable occasion 
a formal model suggests precisely the most appropriate theme and 
its most effective treatment. 

Similar specimen discourses in these treatises were intended to 
help the priests more directly in applying their words to the partic- 
ular audiences before them. In the latter part of his treatise,* 
for example, Alain states specifically the needs of soldiers, judges, 
widows, and other types of people, and shows how the preacher 
should accomodate his thought to them. With the same end in 
view, Jacques de Vitry prepared seventy-four sermons supposedly 
directed® to specially designated audiences of prelates, secular 





1 819. 2 830. 8 Lib. 2, sect. 2: 
4 Chap. 39. 


5 Sermones Vulgares, or, Sermones ad Status. 


The English Moral Plays 299 


canons, crusaders, husbandmen, or tradesmen, as the case might be. 
Equally full is the section of Humbert’s treatise that exemplifies 
concretely this same sort of adaptation. The sixty-sixth specimen 
is addressed “to students of medicine.” They should be told, 
Humbert explains, that the liberal arts and the sciences of law and 
of medicine were devised, each in its own proper sphere, to restore 
to man in part the perfection of mind and of body and the instinct 
for right conduct that were lost through Adam’s sin. Of the three 
means, he continues, medicine is the most valuable, for it advances 
not only health of body, but may also further works of mercy and 
the attainment of spiritual health. In the pursuit of this high call- 
ing, however, all physicians are not capable or faithful. For these, 
the author indicates what sort of exhortation should be used, re- 
commending especially the general warning that they trust less to 
their own skill than to prayer. At the close, the theme as usual is 
plainly stated, and the leading points embraced by it are listed. 
In this sermon we have a typical specimen of Humbert’s method, 
which, in general, was the method of all who compiled these 
manuals of practical instruction; for all had in view the end of 
furnishing the pulpit of the day with matter and modes of treatment 
that would convey the teaching of the church most directly to all 
classes of people. 

These sermonnaires, however, could be but partially successful in 
effecting this end. That they were widely circulated, the student 
of medieval literature finds abundantly proved, and that their formal 
suggestions for adaptation may have guided practical churchmen 
to some extent, one may readily believe. But they could be really 
serviceable only on academic occasions when the preacher would 
find a homogeneous audience, and not in services that the ordinary 
parish priest or itinerant preacher would conduct. Hence some 
more popular means of adaptation was needed; doctrine had to be 
rendered tangible by pointed illustrations. To supply this want, 
collections of interesting and even humorous stories, commonly 
called in ecclesiastical literature exempla, were made to serve as 
clergymen’s commonplace-books. They are not to be regarded as 
distinct either in purpose or character from the sermonnatres already 
discussed ; for the most famous collection of exemp/a was made up 
of stories found in Jacques de Vitry’s Sermones ad Status; they 
were to supplement the homilaria by supplying in greater plenty, 
and in more compact shape, anecdotes that even inferior preachers 
could use to rouse the interest, or sharpen the understanding, of 
their audiences. 


300 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


The employment of anecdote to illuminate or enforce is as old, 
presumably, as moral instruction. As the tried handmaid of ex- 
position it has held in even serious literature a place by no means 
so inconspicuous or unessential as its nature would seem to allow. 
How effective such narrative may be when it dispenses almost 
entirely with its didactic foundation, the parables of the New 
Testament beautifully demonstrate. Hence it is not surprising that 
the early preachers resorted at least occasionally to its use. In 
twelve of the forty homilies on the Gospels, Gregory the Great 
introduced, most often toward the close, apposite stories, while in 
his dialogues he added many more that were widely circulated. 
Not, however, till the late twelfth and early thirteenth centuries did 
this means of exposition gain its wide vogue. Then, as the preaching 
friars carried the church’s teaching to even the commonest men, 
they learned the efficacy of the illustrative anecdote. Saint Dominic 
himself resorted to its use;? Jacques de Vitry believed that many 
are moved by examples who are not reached by precept;* Alain de 
Lille advised preachers to introduce them at the end of their dis- 
courses, where interest ordinarily flags, to prove their doctrine.* 
Even a little of such encouragement would have sufficed to establish 
a practice that gratified so thoroughly the passion of the age for all 
kinds of narrative. The numerous collections of exempla prove their 
success, but possibly give a wrong impression regarding their use ; 
for their compilers only rarely indicate a story’s application, as did 
Stephen of Besancon in adding to one tale the conclusion: ‘“ This 
tale is gude to tell agayns baim pat er slaw in penance doyng, or 
at will not lefe syn or it lefe paim.”® Notwithstanding the fact 
that the compilers usually left the responsibility of interpretation 
with the preacher, they all insisted, as did Pierre de Limoges,® 
that the exemplum should have a direct bearing upon the thought 
of the sermon; for, after all, the anecdote was intended but as 
a means to a serious end. 

In form, the several collections of exemp/a varied considerably. 
The contents of The Alphabet of Tales, like so many others, were 
arranged alphabetically under topics such as Abbas, Consciencia, and 
Oratio, with an abundance of cross-references. Stephen of Bourbon 
grouped his material topically under the seven gifts of the Holy 
Spirit, connecting his tales by a thin thread of exposition. Other 








' Crane, xviii. 2 Etienne de Bourbon, 12 ff. 
wiCrane, <x. 4 Bozon, xi. 5 Alphabet of Tales, No. 30. 
® Lecoy de la Marche, 299. 


The English Moral Plays 304 


compilers proceeded after no methodical plan. So, also, the exempla 
themselves varied, from a cursory statement, in some instances, 
giving the merest skeleton of plot, to a complete story, in others, 
told with zest and skill. The stories, too, cover a fairly broad 
range. Of course, one compiler borrowed freely from another, 
usually with no acknowledgment, and all are indebted to practically 
the same ultimate sources—the Vitae Patrum, Gregory’s Dialogues, 
the Dialogus Miracularum, and the current saints’ legends.'| Even 
within a single collection there is some repetition. Nevertheless, 
the collections offer a wide variety of material; history of all 
shades of authenticity, saints’ legends, fable literature and folk-lore, 
personal experiences—all contribute to the making of what Haw- 
thorne would call these ministerial “ note-books.” 

Neither the compiler nor those he served drew in all probability 
any clear distinction between the sources from which the stories 
were derived. They would classify them, rather, according to the 
nature of the moral taught, and repeat the same story several times 
if several lessons were suggested.2 The tale might be a simple 
example of right living that the preacher would commend. A holy 
man once saw “by revelacion” the house that was being built in 
heaven for the shoemaker who worked steadily all the week, and 
on the Sabbath went to the church to give his savings to the poor. 
Other equally effective tales were told as warnings. A blasphemer 
was afflicted by paralysis of his left hand, and, on his remaining 
obdurate in the sin, by paralysis of the other members of his body.* 
Still others exposed to ridicule the follies of the day. A certain 
percentage of the exempla can be classed neither as encouragement, 
nor warning, nor satire; for example, the many tricks perpetrated 
by clever rogues upon the righteous, are told without any hint of 
disapprobation, the preacher, no doubt, being left to supply that, 
in case the audience seemed willing to receive it. Such stories, 
and indeed not such alone, savor strongly of the tavern jest. But 
the majority hold true to the original didactic intent of the species. 
To recall lax Christians to religious ceremonies there were at hand 
the story of the nun who, forgetting to make the sign of the cross 
before eating, swallowed a devil with a leaf of lettuce®; the ex- 
ample of the poor scholar who amused himself during responses 
by imitating the street cries of Paris venders; and the very different 





1 Crane, lxx. 2 Bonaventura, 245. 
3 Alphabet of Tales, No. 293. 4 Etienne de Bourbon, No. 392. 
5 Jaques de Vitry. 


302 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


example of the woman who went from town to town to hear the 
itinerant preacher, and whom the Lord miraculously fed by a hare 
sent from heaven.t There were stories in abundance on temptation, 
on good manners and bad habits, on the power of the Virgin, and 
on moral virtues. Some stories sought even to enforce doctrine, 
by showing that the active life is not to be altogether despised, 
or that the excommunicated person is abhorrent even to the lower 
animals.2, Occasionally the stories end with a specific statement 
of the moral; one on anger, for example, in the A/phabet of Tales, 
closes with the words, “for whar per is labur & felashup commonhe 
per is paciens & goddis helpe.”* Usually, however, in the ex- 
emplum proper, as distinguished from the moralized tale, the en- 
forcement is left to the preacher, who would see the obvious pur- 
port of the tale—whether encouragement, warning, or ridicule—and 
use it accordingly. 

Here, though, lurked the danger. Insist as they might that the 
exemplum rust always have a didactic value, the higher clergy 
could not prevent its misuse by their irresponsible brethren. The 
line of demarcation between instruction and amusement, propriety 
and indecency, was often lost sight of by preachers who were 
above all else anxious to please. Such speakers developed the 
story at the expense of the sermon, and did not scruple to use 
ribald tales and scurrilous jests. Without exaggeration Dante could 


protest *: 
Now men go forth with jests and drolleries 


To preach, and if but well the people laugh, 
The hood puffs out, and nothing more is asked. 


The abuse inevitably called forth from ecclesiastical councils re- 
strictive legislation; yet, since the proper use of exempla was not 
forbidden, their improper use could not be prevented. A more 
salutary remedy was found in collections of sacred stories, which 
were devised to offer all the attractions of the secular collections, 
with none of their objectionable features. The Brbla Pauperum, 
or the Virtutum Vitiorumque Exempla, long attributed to Bona- 
ventura, was intended to supply preachers who had few books or 
little leisure with suitable illustrative matter from the Old and New 
Testaments. The compiler admitted the efficacy of anecdote only 





1 Etienne de Bourbon, Nos. 213, 77, 78. 

2 Etienne de Bourbon, Pt. 5, and Bozon’s collection. 
3 Alphabet of Tales, No. 404. 

4 Crane, Ixviii_lxix. far. 29. 115-17. 


Se 


The English Moral Plays 303 


when kept in close subjection to “sacra verba,” and argued that 
in the Scriptures, the sole repository of absolute truth, must be 
found the preacher’s best help.1. Hence he gathered many Bible 
stories, outlining them very briefly and grouping them under such 
topical headings as “Concerning Idolatry,” “ Concerning Blasphemy 
against God,” and “Concerning Good Angels.” This treatise, and 
others like it, were prepared to check the resort to objectionable 
narrative in the pulpit. They plainly testify to two facts: that the 
exempla had found universal favor with the masses, and that the 
preachers regarded them as too useful to be wisely discarded. 

The determination to carry the teachings of the church directly 
to all classes of men and women in the most effective and even 
most interesting way, a determination that forced the clergy to 
make the sermon, both in matter and form, something other than 
a religious treatise, led directly to the recognition of the drama as 
a legitimate and useful aid. Already the church had grown ac- 
customed to compose and enact at the altar for the instruction of 
the people the most important incidents of sacred history, very 
simply at first, but soon with ever increasing elaboration and dis- 
play. Certain uncompromising theologians condemned the miracle- 
plays, and tried to suppress them; but their efforts at reform availed 
little. The people were fond of sacred representations, and we may 
well believe that the preacher whose aim was really evangelistic 
appreciated too thoroughly their didactic value to abandon them 
willingly. Moreover, even those who felt the sacrilege of the 
miracle-plays could not offer that objection against the dramatic 
portrayal of virtue and vice; they might even regard this as a 
safe check upon the other. There was ample precedent, therefore, 
for utilizing the drama as a subsidiary means of moral instruction. 
Of course, had ecclesiastical affairs been under the guidance of 
merely philosophical theologians, the idea of placing upon the 
stage personifications of moral qualities to illustrate the wages of 
sin and the power of holiness, would have seemed both artistically 
and psychologically incongruous. But churchmen had dramatic im- 
pulses that ruled their manner of expression and their modes of 
thought. The employment, therefore, of the moral play to enforce 
the teachings of the pulpit was in strict accordance with the spirit 
of the age. 

Instinctively medieval churchmen, especially the monks, felt them- 
selves so near to God that they conceived of sacred things in a 





1 Pracfatio, 244—45. 


304 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


dramatic spirit. The preacher often unconsciously threw his dis- 
course into the present tense, speaking as though Christ and the 
Apostles were still living and teaching upon earth. Augustine, for 
example, began a homily with the words, “I am reminded to speak 
to you, beloved, on that exhortation which the Lord hath just now 
uttered out of the gospel.”! The one to feel this relationship most 
intimately was probably Saint Bernard, who customarily spoke of 
the saints as his contemporaries. In retelling the story of the 
Annunciation as given in the Gospel of Luke, he imagines himself 
standing with the angel before Mary, and addresses her directly; 
in the sermon on the Purification, he discusses with her the need 
for her compliance with the law.? The freedom betokens, it seems, 
not rhetorical artifice, but the closest sympathy with sacred. story. 

It was inevitable that preachers who read the Scriptures with 
this personal intimacy should reproduce in direct discourse many 
of the effective dialogues found in the Bible. Bede, in the simplest 
way, without thought of narrative effect, would read the verses one 
by one, and give each full explanation. Thus, for example, Gabriel’s 
speeches to Mary at the Annunciation lose all their dramatic value 
in the accompanying discussion. Gradually, though, a more dra- 
matic style came to prevail. Aé#lfric and the Blickling homilist of 
the tenth century accorded the Biblical dialogue greater prominence, 
keeping the speeches more closely together by restricting the inter- 
polated expository matter. In these homilies, and in later sermons 
of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, the impression of rapid, 
realistic dialogue is thereby gained. Wherever the Scriptural 
passage that he was handling made it possible, as was the case 
throughout the sermons on the Song of Songs, Bernard conducted 
the dialogue in this dramatic style, interspersing between the 
speeches found in the text his own comments, but connecting by 
phrases of his own the dissevered parts. In such simple Scriptural 
dialogue, the Annunciation scene, the miracles, the stories of the 
saints, and other vivid episodes from sacred history, were trans- 
planted to the literature of these four centuries without emotional 
and spiritual loss. 

If the living presence of Gospel narrative in the hearts of the 
higher clergy thus inspired the frequent use of simple dialogue in 
the pulpit, so on their part the exempla that we have discussed 
prompted the inferior preachers, and, in their less serious moods, 





1 Sermon 3, p. 48. 2 (uvres Complétes, 3. 355; Jbid., 327. 
5 5. 360-68. 


The English Moral Plays 305 


the greater ones as well, to the same course. The telling of these 
stories with brevity and point practically necessitated dialogue, as 
one can see by examining the exempla of the Speculum Ecclesiae, 
in which the collection’s most conspicuous instances of direct quo- 
tation are found. MHonorius tells the story, later incorporated into 
the Alphabet of Tales, of the miserly tax-gatherer who was saved 
from hell by his one act of unmeaning charity, and who lived to 
see Christ in heaven wearing the cloak he had given an unworthy 
beggar.! He cites the familiar examples, also, of the harlot con- 
verted by a priest, and of the dead man who returned to divide 
his property wisely and to tell what he had seen in the other 
world.2 These stories are very unobtrusively introduced by Honorius 
for the exemplum had not then attained its full popularity; yet he 
allows the characters to speak for themselves. In another twelfth- 
century compilation, the story that Jacques de Vitry told of the 
devil’s giving eight of his daughters in marriage to representatives 
of eight different classes of society, but leaving the ninth, Lust, to 
enjoy the freedom she desired, was more fully developed.*? So it 
was, as one would expect, that these illustrative narratives proved 
readily adaptable to dramatic rendering in the pulpit. 

Not, however, in these anecdotal excrescences, but rather in 
sermons on the most serious and exalted themes, did dialogue find 
its fullest opportunity. After learning to rehearse the simple dialogue 
contained in the Scriptural lesson of the day, preachers took soon 
the next obvious step, and simulated as real a more extended 
dialogue that might plausibly have been carried on by Bible char- 
acters. To add to the reality of the words, some brief description 
of the scene could be added, or more effectively developed, and 
the preacher would then be virtually reciting, as men were supposed 
during the Middle Ages to have read in public the comedies of 
Plautus and Terence, a religious play. Professor Cook has called 
attention to three homilies of Grecian churchmen composed in this 
dramatic form, and to a fourth attributed to Augustine—all on the 
Annunciation and Incarnation.£ So great was the dramatic impulse of 
the age that preachers of the Latin Church, as early even as the 





1 Nos. 316, 297. 

2 Jacques de Vitry, No. 257; Alphabet of Tales; Patr, Lat., 172. 889, 
892-94, 897-98, 881-82. 

8 Printed by Bourgain, 220-23. The same story is in Jubinal, Nouveax 
Recueil, 1. 283. 

4 Journal of Germanic Philology, 4. 421—51. 


306 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


tenth century, used without scruple the artifice. of dialogue for the 
very framework of their most important sermons.* 

The Blickling homilist, in his sermon on The Story of Peter and 
Paul, retained the abundance of dialogue that he found in his apo- 
cryphal source, giving it, however, a prominence that determined 
the nature of the whole discourse.? After a short introduction, he 
states the theme of his drama—the contention of the two Apostles 
with Simon Magus when they were brought before Nero to face 
the sorcerer’s accusations. The preliminary situation is then ex- 
plained by the author. But immediately, as the accused are 
brought before the emperor, Simon in person prefers his charges. 
“Hear me, worshipful emperor; I am the Son of God, who came 
down from heaven, but I have up to this time suffered great injury 
from Peter.” Thereafter the story is carried on largely by the 
characters themselves. Nero asks for explanations; the accused and 
the accuser recite facts and submit charges; the tests that are to 
establish the false pretensions of one party or the other are pro- 
posed and carried through, till finally Peter’s prayer dashes the 
presumptuous magician to death. Some of the speeches are long 
and devoid of action; but there is a good deal, also, of brisk, 
natural conversation. “Then said Simon the sorcerer, ‘These are 
the disciples of the Nazarene Saviour.’... Nero said, ‘Who is the 
Nazarene ?’ Simon replied, ‘There is a city in the land of Judea, 
called Nazareth, from whence came their teacher.’ Then said Nero, 
‘God instructeth and loveth every man; why persecutest thou these 
men?’ Simon said, ‘These are the persons who frustrate all my 
works, so that folk should not believe in me.’ Then said Nero, 
‘Why were ye two or your kin so faithless?’ Then said Peter to 
the sorcerer, ‘Thou wast able to teach thy false crafts to all other 
persons; but God through me convicted them of falsehood... thou 
couldest not overcome me.’?” The sermon, as one sees, is virtually 
a dramatic narrative. 

Equally notable for its dramatic form and spirit is the sermon on 
the Assumption of the Virgin in these same tenth-century homilies.‘ 
Here the progress of the dialogue is just as effective, and the sug- 
gestion of action even more clear and dramatic. The angel brings 
Mary a palm sprig; Mary dresses herself in preparation for the end; 
the Apostles are conveyed miraculously to the scene; the procession 





1 Bourgain, 211-12, regards the practice as peculiar to the twelfth 
century. 

2 Apocryphal Gospels, Acts, and Revelations, 256—78. 

3 174, 4 136-59. 


The English Moral Plays 307 


is fofmed; the Jew who would dishonor the bier is smitten from 
heaven. These are some of the plainly suggested dramatic situations 
that transform the sermon into a little drama.' 

In exactly the same spirit, Bernard preached on the text, “ Filiz 
Jerusalem, nuntiate dilecto quia amore langueo.”? After first ex- 
plaining the different methods of treating such a subject, the preacher 
sketches for his hearers the scene, showing Mary on her sick-bed 
with the angels about her. He then rehearses the conversation 
that might have passed between them. The angels ask Mary why 
she has not been seen recently on Calvary or the Mount of Olives, 
or at the tomb. She gives at first a brief reply in the words of 
the text, “I am languishing.” “Of what do you languish?” the 
angels inquire. “How can sickness trouble the body in which the 
salvation of the world has rested?” Thereupon Mary, in longer, 
slower speech, tells them that she is dying not of grief or pain, 
but for love of her Son, who, she knows, will not forget her. There- 
upon the angels, returning to heaven, report to Christ what they 
have learned. As the scene thus changes to heaven, with one of 
his customary transitions, “ Quid putamus Jesum nisi tale aliquid 
locutum?” the preacher returns again to dialogue, as Jesus sup- 
posedly assures the angels that he, whose gospel is love, will not 
forsake his own. Perhaps this brief outline will indicate how dra- 
matic in spirit the sermon is; it contains a definite suggestion of the 
scene, brisk dialogue, and an effective close. 

The fact is too little noted in the study of the origins of the 
sacred drama that at the time tropes were bringing the dramatic 
portrayal of sacred history to the altar, sermons were being delivered 
on the same themes and in exactly the same spirit.2 But these 
narrative sermons in dialogue were not restricted to Bible story ; 
one significant example of an original dramatic situation is found 
in Bernard’s address on Saint Clement.4 The speaker reminds his 
hearers that the saint was ready to sacrifice his worldly position 





1 The source of this sermon is the apocryphal De Transitu Mariae. 

2 Cantic. 5. 8. Patr. Lat., 185. 190-93. Bourgain, 211, attributes the 
sermon to Guerrie d’Igni. Bourgain, 3875-85, prints a sermon by Anselm 
on the Resurrection. 

’ The sermon, once attributed to Augustine, in which the prophets, 
one after another, rehearse on the request of the preacher their testimony 
of the Christ to come, was read as a part of the Christmas service. It was, 
then, not a sermon in the sense in which we are using the word. See 
Sepet, Les Prophétes du Christ, 3. 10. 

* Guvres Completes, 3. 468—70. 


Trans. Conn. Acap., Vol. XIV. 21 Marca, 1910. 


308 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


and disregard his mental attainments, to win the love of God. At 
this point Bernard fancies that Satan is before him, muttering be- 
tween his teeth as of old, “ All that a man hath will he give for his 
life,” and accordingly the preacher turns to show Satan that Clement 
had offered even his life for Christ.1_ Bernard almost feels that the 
saint had actually despised his body, until Clement assures him in the 
words of Paul, “no man ever yet hated his own flesh.”?2 But some 
one of the auditors is here supposed to object that he, too, could 
show the same fortitude were the time of persecution not passed, 
and thus is introduced Bernard’s homily on steadfastness in minor 
trials. In this original sermon, Bernard has obliterated all distinc- 
tions of space and time to bring together a number of characters, 
the devil and the saint, Bernard himself and a member of his con- 
gregation, in a conversation purely didactic in character. Here, then, 
is a very significant example of the homiletic rendering of little 
dramas that bear a strong resemblance to the moral plays. 

But the clergy found not only its medium of communication in 
the widespread dramatic impulse of the age; they found in it 
as well their expository method; for the use of allegory as a means 
of embodying moral principle, which is the distinctive feature of 
the moralities, sprang directly from the inability of the mind to con- 
ceive sheer abstractions, and the consequent tendency to represent 
them as living beings. The essays of the Alexandrian philosopher 
Philo, dealing with subjects like Justice and Sobriety, undoubtedly 
gave an incentive to psychic study. But the poets imbued these 
qualities with human life. One of the popular fables of Phaedrus 
relates the experiences of two travelers, Truth and Falsehood.* 
In the Metamorphoses of Apuleius, likewise, Terror and Fear appear 
as servants of Minerva at the judgment of Paris, just as in the story 
of Cupid and Psyche such characters as Sobriety and Solicitude 
take their parts. The poet Claudian, of the fourth century, was 
especially fond of such personifications, introducing freely virtues 
and vices as human beings. Such a method of personification 
immediately recommended itself to Christian writers. Poets and the 
authors of religious and educational treatises were soon using alle- 
gory as their means of exposition. The preachers, therefore, who 
would place their teaching on the stage, found at hand a popular, 
and, on the whole, an effective, method of vivifying the abstract 
principles of their faith. 





1 Job 2. 4. 2 Kphesians 5. 29. 
3 Hervieux, 2. 139—40. * See Ebert, 1. 287-88. 


The English Moral Plays 309 


Two religious treatises of the second century may be taken to 
illustrate how quickly the allegorical method was absorbed into 
Christian literature. The more important, perhaps, is 7he Pastor of 
Hermas, a strange piece of apocalyptic literature which for three 
centuries enjoyed a popularity that seemed destined to fulfil the 
hopes of its unknown author, who wrote in order that erring 
Christians might be reclaimed. In the first vision the dreamer sees, 
among other things, seven women, who are introduced by the ex- 
positor as the seven Christian virtues, Faith, Self-Restraint, Sim- 
plicity, Innocence, Moderation, Knowledge, and Love. Some of these 
same personifications appear again, with others, in a later vision, 
where they seek to build on the solid rock, the Son of God, the 
high tower that typifies the Church. Other women, representing 
vices, comely in form, but dressed in black, and with disheveled 
hair, carry away the imperfect stones, while the virtues stand guard 
in the completed structure... The apocalyptic element of 7he Pastor 
of Hermas predominates over the allegorical; but the interpretation 
of the visions gives a suggestion of material abundant enough to 
form an extensive and vigorous piece of allegorical narrative. 

The same device of depicting the Christian virtues as young 
women was employed by Tertullian. Among the several treatises 
that he wrote on such abstract themes as modesty, idolatry, and 
penitence, that on patience, De Patentia, is the most significant. 
Towards its close the author draws the likeness of his subject. 
“Her countenance is tranquil and peaceful; her brow serene, con- 
tracted by no wrinkle of sadness or of anger; her eyebrows evenly 
relaxed in gladsome wise, with eyes downcast in humility, not in 
unhappiness; ... her clothing, moreover, about her bosom white and 
well fitted to her person, as being neither inflated nor disturbed.”? 
This suggests no complete allegory, as the Pastor of Hermas does; 
but, elaborating pictorially one allegorical conception, is of equal 
importance. Both works forecast plainly what was to come. 

The tendency toward allegory found in these two treatises 
soon became dominant in Christian literature. The Christian al- 
legorist devised many forms for the expression of his imaginings. 
Virtues and vices appeared as living beings, and the progress of the 
soul in righteousness or unrighteousness was unfolded as a material 
history, marked by crises, sudden reversals of fortune, and eventual 
defeat or victory. In the telling of this story, certain episodes. 





1 Part 3, Similitude 9, especially chaps. 9 and 15. 
2 Cf. Philosophy in Boethius. 


310 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


such as the conflict between the virtues and the vices, the debate 
between the body and the soul, the coming of Death to summon 
man, and even the Judgment scene itself, were widely accepted. 
Most of the didactic poems and treatises that handle these themes 
seem to-day inexcusably long and tedious; many were strictly aca- 
demic in purpose. But the allegory that they contained could be 
used just as effectively in plain sermons and popular religious 
manuals, where it proved itself an indispensable aid in the trans- 
mission of religious truth. 

In their allegorical sermons churchmen used dialogue just as 
naturally as in their recital of historical or biographical fact, and 
thus recited dramatic scenes that were really moral plays. In a brief 
bit of dialogue in one of the Bickling Homilies, ‘The End of the 
World is Near,” a man who stands at the grave of a lifelong friend 
is informed by the bones that nothing remains but “a portion of 
dust, and the relict of worms,” and is urged to incline his heart to 
good counsel and prayer.! Still more significant are Hugo of Saint 
Victor’s and Bernard’s sermons on the intercession of Mercy and 
Peace for the sinner whom Justice and Truth would condemn, for 
these discourses, which will be shortly outlined, place fictitious words 
in the mouths of these allegorical characters—the essence of the 
moral plays.? 

A very similar moral allegory was carried by Peter of Blois to 
a conclusion that marks his sermon still more emphatically as the 
forerunner of the English moralities.? It is based on the verses, 
“Who will rise up for me against the evil doers? or who will 
stand up for me against the workers of iniquity? Unless the Lord 
had been my help, my soul had almost dwelt in silence.” In the 
spirit of these words the preacher loses at once his own identity. 
“What can I, poor man, do,” he exclaims, “unless God aid me 
against the evil doers!”* His little drama halts a while to permit 
the discussion of three books, the Book of the Way, the Book of 
Conscience, and the Book of Life, which man will see at Doomsday. 
But the preacher shortly returns to picture the scene at God’s judg- 








a: 

2S. Victor, Patr, Lat., 172. 621-25, and Bernard, Guures Completes, 3. 
340-48. See below, chap. 5. In one of the most interesting exempla of 
the Alphabet of Tales (No. 496) Righteousness, Truth, Peace, and Mercy 
figure as characters. One of Bozon’s exempla (No. 3) introduces the 
same type of character. 

3 Sermo ad Populum, Patr. Lat., 207. 750-75. 

aes 7945 16S 


The English Moral Plays 314 


ment-seat, whither man has been brought to answer the accusations 
of his adversary, Satan. The charges that man has. been guilty 
of infidelity to the sacraments, of treason, and of theft, the accuser 
supports with a fulness: of evidence and a force that would char- 
acterize a trained advocate. The prisoner can respond but feebly 
when called upon for his defense, and since Conscience, in spite of 
the prisoner’s questioning the legality of a woman’s testimony, con- 
firms the charges, the case for him seems lost. But, opportunely, 
the three daughters of the judge, Faith, Hope, and Charity, inter- 
cede for him under the leadership of Faith, whom the preacher 
introduces in the words of Prudentius, “Prima petit campum sub 
sorte duelli Pugnatura fides.”1. The controversy, though, that she 
enters, is not the open conflict of the Psychomachia. Satan asks Faith 
why she is soiling her purity by defending the sinner, and offers the 
specious argument that, since faith without works is dead, and 
since a man who sins in expectation of pardon is accursed, the 
prisoner deserves none of her sympathy. But Faith, who is too 
thoroughly cognizant of his wiles to trust his plea, can justify her 
actions. Their part as intercessors, she shows, is in strict accord 
with justice and divine will, while his efforts to thwart their pur- 
pose is both a usurpation and perversion of divine law. Turning 
then to the sinner, she depicts the punishment that awaits him if he 
dies unrepentent, and thus leads him to profess his belief in the 
Trinity and the doctrines of the church as expounded by the 
Fathers and the preachers, and to promise amendment. Such 
doctrinal instruction as a prelude to forgiveness was common in the 
moralities, and this sermon seems in this respect full of significance. 
The Virgin and the court then join the sisters in their prayers for 
mercy, and God grants the accused full pardon. 

Is it assuming too much to regard these sermons in dialogue on 
allegorical themes as the forerunners of the morality plays? If 
ministers in the pulpits were accustomed to present such dramatic 
situations, the next step would be to enact them professedly as 
dramas. Already dramatically conceived incidents from sacred story 
were being presented by churchmen at the altar; it was therefore 
no great innovation for churchmen to act, or encourage others to 
act, the deeds that these allegorical sermons in the pulpit outlined. 
Of course, these themes, not being based on the sacred text itself, 
would find no place in the mass. But if a churchman like Stephen 
of Bourbon could justify a telling story in the pulpit as a “sermo 





1 Psychomachia, 11, 21-22. 


312 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


corporeus” that “passed readily from the sense to the imagination, 
and from the imagination to the memory,’! preachers would re- 
cognize the same efficacy in the allegorical play, and willingly 
give it their support. Thus it happened that the precepts of the 
pulpit became the stock property of the theater; that the sermon 
supplied the matter and the spirit of the moral play. 


CuHapter Il.—Tue Most Typican Moran Puay. 


The moral teaching that the church saw fit to intrust to the 
stage, and the means most commonly used to embody such intract- 
able material in dramatic form, are best illustrated by the earliest 
of the extant English moralities, The Castle of Perseverance. This 
long play of almost four thousand lines, truly a “ sermo corporeus,” 
depicts the ceaseless struggle between sin and holiness for the 
soul of the hero, Mankind. Although he at the start represents 
himself as a naked infant born but the night before to the “woo 
& wepynge” of the world, the play cannot strictly be said to 
begin the story with the follies of his youth, as some moral plays 
did, for immaturity either in thought or act is nowhere noticeable. 

Since, however, the matter of the Castle of Perseverance is so 
full and varied, it may fairly be called a ‘“full-scope” morality. 
‘It may also be called the mode/ play. The spirit that pervades 
it responds exactly to the spirit of the medieval church; the 
doctrine taught is in strict accord with ecclesiastical teaching; and 
the experiences through which the personified abstractions pass 
represent the favorite episodes of medieval allegory. In all these 
respects, The Castle of Perseverance is the most typical specimen 
of the morality play. 

At the beginning, Mankind is brought face to face with the great 
problem of life. His reference to his weakness and inexperience, 
it seems, has no dramatic significance, and, in view of the pur- 
pose of the play, offers no real inconsistency. The churchly 
author would simply have us understand that even the infant is 
subject to temptation, and morally responsible for his acts. Con- 
sequently, two angels accompany Mankind, Good Angel sent by 
Christ to guide the boy, and Bad Angel delegated by Satan to 
tempt him; for 





1 Etienne de Bourbon, 5, Prologue. 


The English Moral Plays 313 


swyche to, hath euery man on lyue, 
to rewlyn hym & hys wyttis fyue.! (310—11) 


The responsibility is fully realised by Mankind, who prays that he may 


folwe, be strete & stalle, 
pe aungyl bat cam fro heuene trone. (316—17) 


But the tempter is insistent, and the sway of the evil powers, the 

World, the Flesh, and the Devil, who are seated on their thrones 

upon the stage, very near. The misguided soul, accordingly, is 

easily brought to forsake his true guide in order to seek in the 

world the base pleasures that Wealth and its privileges can give. 
Disregarding, then, the warnings of Good Angel, 


a! nay! man! for Cristis blod, 
cum a-gayn be strete & style! 
be Werld is wyckyd, & ful wod, 
& pou schalt leuyn but a whyle. 
What coueytyst bou to wynne ? 
man! bynke on pyn endynge day 
Whanne bou schalt be closyd vnder clay!, (403—09) 


and heeding the counsel of Bad Angel, 


With be Werld bou mayst be bold 
tyl bou be sexty wynter hold. 
wanne pi nosé waxit cold, 
panne mayst bou drawe to goode, (418—21) 


Mankind chooses his own course: 


I vow to God, & so I may 
Make mery a ful gret throwe; 
I may leuyn many a day; 
I am but zongé, as I trowe, 
for to do bat I schulde. (422—26) 


He is first introduced by Bad Angel to World and his attendants, 
Folly and Pride, who promise him for his submission the carnal 





1 In one of his sermons Jacques de Vitry told this story of Bonus 
Angelus. A man who has committed a heinous crime is led to confess 
to the Devil who has disguised himself as a priest. The Devil bids 
the man never mention the crime again, and when the man dies he 
claims his soul on the ground that his sin has never been confessed to 
a proper priest. Bonus Angelus appears just in time to insist that the 
man’s good intentions should be sufficient to save him. Zxempla, No. 303. 


314 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


pleasures he desires. Backbiter volunteers to teach him the way 
to the Seven Deadly Sins, and Covetousness inflames him with 
greed. One after the other the Seven Deadly Sins instil their 
poisonous teachings into his heart. Pride, for example, urges him 
to despise his fellows, and, lest they take him for a goose, to 
jag his clothing, wear long-toed shoes, and in all other respects to: 


put holy byn hert in pride. (1073) © 
Sloth, in his turn, advises him to forget his religious duties for ease. 


whanne pe messé-bellé goth, 
lye stylle, man, & take non hede! 
lappe pbyne hed panne in a cloth, 
& take a swet, I bee rede; 
Chyrche-goynge bou forsake. (1215-19) 


Led by such invidious counsel, Mankind is apparently lost, and the 
sorrowful Good Angel, who has witnessed what he could not pre- 
vent, foretells his fate: 


alas! Mankynde 

is bobbyt & blent as be blynde! 

In feyth, I fynde, 

to Crist he can nowt be kynde. 

alas! Mankynne 

is soylyd & saggyd in synne! 

he wyl not blynne, 

tyl body & sowle parte a-twynne. (1289-96) 


Grieving thus over Mankind’s sorry predicament, Good Angel is 
discovered by his friend Shrift, to whom he explains the cause of 
his sorrow. Shrift, however, sees a chance of a quick amendment 
if only Mankind can be brought to confess his sins. Accordingly 
they seek him, and, with the aid of Penance, readily bring him to 
see his wrong-doing and ask for forgiveness: 


I haue synnyd many a browe 
In be dedly synnys seuene, 

bobe in home & halle... . 
pe x comaundementis, brokyn I haue; 
& my fyue wyttis, spent hem a-mys; 
I was banne wood, & gan to raue: 
mercy, God! for-geue me pys!... 
now, seynt Saueour! Ze me saue, 
& brynge me to Zour boure of blys! 


The English Moral Plays 315 


I can not allé say; 
but to pe erthe I knele a-down, 
bobe with bede & orisoun, 
& aske myn absolucioun. (1477—95) 


Shrift then has power to absolve Mankind: 


I bee a-soyle, with myldé mod, 
of al bat pou hast ben ful madde, 
In forsakynge of pyn aungyl good, 
& pi fowle flesche pat pou hast fadde, 
be werld, be deuyl bat is so woode, 
& folwyd pyne aungyl bat is so badde. 
to Jhesu Crist pat deyed on rode, 
I restore bee a-geyn ful sadde; 
noli peccare! 
& all be goode dedys bat pbou haste don, 
& all pi tribulacyon, 
stonde bee in remyssion : 
posius noli viciare. (1523—35) 


Thus the conflict between man’s good and evil inclinations was 
represented concretely on the stage. The subjective forces that in 
reality belong to man himself in the most personal sense were 
transformed by the poet into visible, external forces operating upon 
man as they obeyed, on the one hand, the call of God, or, on the 
other, the interests of the World and the Flesh. Such a transform- 
ation, although not congruous to the truest understanding of sin, 
was essential to the allegorical method of exposition, and was 
therefore widespread in the didactic literature of the Middle Ages. 
Many abstract treatises, to be sure, were written in which the 
analysis and synthesis of ethical traits, such as the “seven gifts of 
the Holy Spirit,” were carried to the last degree. This was the 
method of Thomas Aquinas, whose Summa Theologica remains the 
greatest monument of this sort of composition. But the more vital 
mode of treating such themes was the allegorical. The motives 
and impulses of man’s own heart were taken from him, and, 
clothed in flesh and blood, given him again for companions. 

This extended moral play, however, does not stop, as many did, 
with this one general representation of the struggle that rages in 
man’s heart. The story of Mankind’s life is carried further through 
a series of allegorical episodes which had been early popular in 
Christian didactic poetry. The first is a more specific embodiment 
of the conflict between virtue and vice. Mankind, after gaining 


316 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


absolution, seeks refuge in the Castle of Perseverance, where he 
hopes to escape his tempters. But the vices rally about the 
standard of Belial, and advance in a body to assault the castle. Of 
the actual engagement that follows only the most meager de- 
scription is given by the churchly author. Pride confesses himself 
beaten by Meekness: 


I weyle & wepe, with wondys wete; 
I am betyn in pe hed. 
my prowde pride a-doun is dreuyn, 
so scharpely Mekenes hath me schreuyn, 
pat I may no lenger leuyn; - 
my lyf is me be-reuyd. (2203—08) 


Envy, in turn, reports herself repulsed by the roses that Charity 
has thrown from the walls. This paucity of narrative detail, how- 
ever, is amply made up for by an extreme fulness of preaching ; 
the battle, in short, was the theologian’s. Before the assault is at- 
tempted, the seven virtues fortify Mankind with effective little 
homilies. Industry urges him: 


In besynesse, man, loke pou be, 

with worpbi werkis goode & pykke! 

to slawthé, if pou casté bee, 

it schal bee drawe to bowtis wyckke. 
Osiositas parit omne malum ; 

it puttyth a man to pouerte, 

& pullyth hym to peynys prycke, 

Do sum-what al-wey for loue of me, 

pou bou schuldyst but thwyte a stycke; 
with bedys, sum tyme pee blys! 

Sum tyme rede, & sum tyme wryte, 

& sum tyme pleye at pi delyte: 

pe deuyl bee waytyth with dyspyte 
whanne pou art in Idylnesse. (1644—56) 


Meanwhile, the vices are considering what means each one, ac- 
cording to his nature, has of regaining their escaped prisoner: 


help we, Mankynde fro zone castel to keuere! 
helpe! we mon hym wynne. 

schete we all at a schote, 

with gere bat we cunne best note, 

to chache Mankynde fro zene cote 
In-to dedly synne. (1955—60) 


The English Moral Plays S17 


Even when the champions of good and evil have actually met in 
pairs, Pride with Meekness, Wrath ‘with Patience, Envy with 
Charity, and so on, the sermon obscures the narrative. In response 
to Pride’s threats, Meekness comments on the cause of Lucifer’s 
fall and on the humility of Christ, garnishing her discourse with the 
Psalmist’s reflections on the fate of the proud. So, too, Patience, 
in utter disregard of the “styffe stonys” with which Wrath pelts 
her, draws a moral from Christ’s example: 


whanne he stod meker panne a chylde, 

& lete boyes hym betyn & bynde: 

& zyt, to deyen he was glad, 

us, pacyens to techyn & lerne. (2128—38) 
And against Envy’s threat, 

let Mankynde cum to us doun, 


or I schal schetyn to pis castel town 
a ful fowle defamacyon, (2157—59) 


Charity replies: 


pou pou speke wycke & falsé fame, 
be wers schal I neuere do my dede. 
who-so peyryth falsly a-noper mans name, 
Cristys curs he schal haue to mede: 

ve homini illi per quem scandalum venit. 

(Matt. 18. 7.) 

who-so wyl not hys tunge tame,— 
take it sothé, as mes crede,— 
wo, wo, to hym, & mekyl schame! 
In holy wrytte pis I rede; 

for euere bou art a schrewe. (2161—69) 


Thus the battle becomes ecclesiastic exposition, with no headway 
in action. The second assault would have failed as the first did, 
had not the enticements of Covetise finally drawn Mankind, in spite 
of Generosity’s earnest pleadings, again to forsake his friends for 
illicit pleasures with his carnal enemies. 

Mankind’s second experience in the toils of sin needs no analysis. 
Since he has been endowed by God with freedom of the will, he 
must be left, the virtues declare, to suffer the punishment of his ill- 
advised choice. The time, however, is short in which he can 
enjoy the wealth that Covetise gives him; for “drery Dethe” soon 
appears to call him to judgment. The bringing of this summons 


318 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


to the various classes of society was a favorite subject for the 
mural painters and. the didactic poets of all Europe. Hence the 
messenger who at this point introduces himself to. Mankind was 
a familiar figure to the audience, and his message. but repeated the 
oft-heard warning of the clergy: 


drery is my deth-drawth ; 
‘a-geynS me may no man stonde; 
I durke, & down I brynge to nowth, 
lordys & ladys in euery londe. 
whom-so I haue a lessun tawth, 
onethys sythen schal he mowe stonde; 
In my carful clothys he schal be cawth, 
ryché, poré, fre.& bonde:. - 

whanne I come, bei goo no more. 
where-so I wende in any lede, 
euery man of me hat drede; 
lette I wyl, for no mede, 

to smyté sadde & sore. (2792—2804) 


Just as familiar were the reproaches that Mankind’s soul at this 
crisis heaps upon him: 


body! bou dedyst brew a byttyr bale, 
to pi lustys whanne gannyst loute; 
pi sely sowle schal ben a-kale; 
I beye pi dedys with rewly rowte; 
& al it is for gyle. 
euere bou hast be coueytows, 
falsly to getyn londe & hows; 
to me pou hast brokyn a byttyr jows; 
so welaway be whyle! (3013—21) 


Again the play might have closed with this version of the Dance 
of Death, and this suggestion of the strife between the Body and 
the Soul; but yet another scene could be borrowed from ecclesi- 
astical literature to turn again the scales of fate. Mercy hears the 
appeal of Mankind’s soul, and is moved to pity. Justice, however, 
protests that Mankind should expect no pardon: 


& euery man pat wyl Fulfyll 
pe dedly synnys, & folw mysdede, 
to graunte hem mercy, me pynkyth is no skyl; 
& berfore, systyr, zou I rede, 
lete hym a-bye his mysdede. (3156—60) 


The English Moral Plays 319 


This harsh judgment is sustained by the third sister, Truth. But 

Peace, the fourth, rebukes these advocates of unmitigated punish- 
- ment, and persuades them to carry their dispute to their father, 
God. Accordingly, they present in full their arguments before his 
throne. Truth assérts that Mankind deserves damnation for his 
sins. But, Mercy interposes, Christ’s sacrifice has. made forgiveness 
possible. Such lenity, however, Justice objects, runs directly counter 
to divine law, and would be subversive of the whole moral order. 
Yes, adds Truth, Mankind never fed the hungry, or clothed the 
poor, or showed kindness to the unfortunate; let him therefore 
suffer. Thus the dispute progresses till Peace interposes. She re- 
conciles the sisters, and together they beg God to spare the con- 
demned sinner. In response to their united appeals, he orders 
Mankind to be carried from hell to heaven. 

Thus the play ends with a dramatic rendering of the allegory 
suggested by the eighty-fifth Psalm. Like the allegory of the 
struggle between the virtues and vices, of the Dance of Death, 
and of the Debate between the Body and the Soul, this was one 
of the commonest themes of medieval literature. Combined as 
they are here, the four motives give in full the varied course of 
Mankind’s career, from his first day, when Good Angel and Bad 
Angel stand on either hand asking his allegiance, through all his 
sinnings and repentings, to the last scene before the tribunal of 
God. The long story is told with but little respect for dramatic 
climax, and with a tedious prolixity; but underneath it all lies one 
plain moral: 


Evyr at be begynnynge 
Thynke on zoure last endynge ! (3648—49) 


The reader thinks at once of the Blickling homily, “The End of 
the World is Near,’ and, possibly, of the still closer parallelism 
with a homily attributed to Ephraem, the Syrian! It warns man 
to keep ever in mind the hour when soul shall be separated from 
body, and the great fear and the great mystery of life shall be 
consummated. At that hour, angels and demons will. flock about 
the dying man, and struggle to possess him. If he has lived a 
good life, observant of the virtues, they will then become his 
Angeli bont, protect him from the demons, and lead him to a land 
of rest and joy. But if he has wasted his life, the vices to which 
he has yielded will become demons and seize his soul and carry 





» De habenda semper in mente die exitus vitae, 6. 356-57. 


320 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


it to unending misery. How closely the dramatist has followed 
the warning of the church! 

The Castle of Perseverance, it is clear, should not be considered 
primarily from the dramatic standpoint. Its influence in the growth 
of the English drama can not be disregarded, it is true, by the 
literary historian. But he who would appreciate the type of 
which The Castle of Perseverance is the truest representative, should 
remember that its author and its first audiences knew nothing of 
the drama gua drama, and should study it first, according to its 
intention, as a piece of didactic literature, a “sermo corporeus.” 
The student then realizes that the contents are not original with 
the English author, and that the primary sources should never be 
sought through the channels of secular literature, whether English 
or French, but rather in ecclesiastical literature, which knew no 
national bounds. If this be true of The Castle of Perseverance, it 
is equally true of the type it so perfectly represents. Here, then, 
is a Clue for the investigation of the sources of the morality plays, 
and for a surer and fuller means for their intimate appreciation. 


CuHaprer IIl.—Tur PSYCHOMACHLA. 


Thus the conception of spiritual life as a conflict between the 
forces of good and of evil, terminating in death and the final 
reward or punishment before the judgment-seat of God, constitutes 
the theme of the typical moral play, as it was devised to popularize 
and enforce the practical moral lessons that the Church had to 
teach. As the theme of conflict was obviously first in order of 
presentation, so it was first, without doubt, in order of devel- 
opment. The conception of life as an armed combat is as old 
as Christianity itself. It underlies many of the New Testament’s 
warnings against temptation, especially the appeals of that virile 
apostle Paul. “For we wrestle,” he wrote, “not against flesh and 
blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers 
of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high 
places. ... Stand, therefore, having your loins girt about with truth, 
and having on the breastplate of righteousness; And your feet 
shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace; Above all, taking 
the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all 
the fiery darts of the wicked. And take the helmet of salvation, 


The English Moral Plays 321 


and the sword of the spirit, which is the word of God.”! Clearly 
the spiritual life meant to Paul a struggle not unlike the clashing 
of foes in battle. 

The vivid picture that Paul here drew of militant Christianity 
was never forgotten. It was very plainly in the mind of that 
vigorous controversialist and ardent reformer, Tertullian, as he 
attacked the impurities of the Roman theater.2. “Would you have 
also fightings and wrestlings? Well, of these there is no lacking, 
and they are not of slight account. Behold unchastity overcome 
by chastity, perfidy slain by faithfulness, cruelty stricken by com- 
passion, impudence thrown into the shade by modesty; these are 
the contests we have among us, and in these we win our crowns.” 

With a still more lifelike personification and a more specific in- 
dication of the nature of the assault, this same conception was 
handled by Tertullian’s follower, Cyprian. “What else in the 
world,” he wrote, “than a battle against the devil is daily carried 
on, than a struggle against his darts and weapons in constant 
conflicts? Our warfare is with avarice, with immodesty, with 
anger, with ambition; our diligent and toilsome wrestle with carnal 
vices, with enticements of the world. The mind of man besieged, 
and in every quarter invested with the onsets of the devil, scarcely 
in each point meets the attack, scarcely resists it. If avarice is 
prostrated, lust springs up. If lust is overcome, ambition takes its 
place. If ambition is despised, anger exasperates, pride puffs up, 
wine-bibbing entices, envy breaks concord, jealousy cuts friendship ; 
you are constrained to curse, which the divine law forbids; you 
are compelled to swear, which is not lawful.” ® 

Of almost equal significance is the following excerpt from the 
Divine Institutes of Lactantius, the great churchman of the third 
and fourth centuries: 

God, who created men to this warfare, desired that they should 
stand prepared in battle array, and with minds keenly intent should 
watch against the stratagems of open attacks of our single enemy, 
who, as is the practice of skilful and experienced generals, endeav- 
ours to ensnare us by various arts, directing his rage according 
to the nature and disposition of each. For he infuses into some 





1 Eph. 6. 11-17. 

2 34. See Thompson, Controversy between the Puritans and the Stage, 
13—16. 

% On the Mortahty, 455. See also Ephraem, the Syrian, De Pugna 
Carnis, 5. 2382—34. 


322 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


insatiable avarice, that, being chained by their riches as by fetters, 
he may drive them from the way of truth. He inflames others 
with the excitement of anger, that while they are rather intent upon 
inflicting injury, he may turn them aside from the contemplation 
of God. He plunges others into immoderate lusts, that, giving them- 
selves to pleasure of the body, they may be unable to look towards 
virtue. ... Moreover, those whom he has seen to be pious he involves 
in various superstitions. . .. Thus he has blocked up all the approaches 
against men, and has occupied the way, rejoicing in public errors; 
but that we might be able to dispel these errors, and to overcome 
the author of evils himself, God has enlightened us, and has armed 
us with true and heavenly virtue.} 

These three passages indicate how the Church Fathers, visualizing 
clearly the conception of St. Paul, came to understand and portray 
the soul’s resistance to temptation as a struggle between the forces 
of good and of evil. Such an idea, thus sanctioned by the New 
Testament and the immediate successors of the Apostles, could not 
be barren to an age already inclined to allegorical interpretation. 
Very readily the moral qualities that the apostle would set to oppose 
temptations, and the virtues and vices that Cyprian brought face to face, 
became living warriors engaged in hand to hand conflict with weapons 
of war. Most often the struggle was depicted as a conflict, epic 
in character, in open field. Sometimes, however, the more strictly 
religious writers, for reasons that will be explained, chose to re- 
present the virtues in the act of defending their citadel, the soul, 
against the vigorous assault of the vices. With this possibility of 
variation, the theme spread rapidly and widely through the homo- 
geneous intellectual world of the Middle Ages in Latin poems, 
sermons, and moral treatises, and more than any other one influence 
determined the character of the morality plays. 

Each branch of the theme in the fourth century received its first 
treatment at the hands of the poet-churchman, Prudentius. He 
narrated in the Psychomachia the battle between the armies of sin 
and holiness, and sketched less fully in the Hamartigenia, as Cyprian 
had done, the siege of the soul. The former, after a preface ex- 
plaining the typological significance of the history of Abraham, 
opens with words that remind one strongly of Tertullian and Cyprian: 

“ Tell us, O Christ,... our king, with what soldiery the mind may 
seek to drive the sins from the cave of the breast. When sedition 
arises to disturb our spirit, and sin wearies the mind with combat, 





1 Divine Institutes, Bk. 6, chap. 4. 
Pp 


The Enghsh Moral Plays 323 


what guard have we to insure our liberty, what battle-line can best 
withstand the furies that have penetrated our hearts? For you, 
good Leader, have not exposed Christians to destroying vices without 
giving them great virtues and courage to endure. You yourself 
order the defending hosts to fight in the besieged body; you your- 
self arm the spirit with strength to contend powerfully in your be- 
half, and to overcome the lusts that battle in the heart. 

The actual combat then begins in a way natural to the fourth 
century, when heresy and sedition still menaced Christianity, and 
to an author familiar with the burning appeals of Tertullian. It is 
Faith who first takes the field, neglecting in her eagerness for glory 
in new battles to arm herself with the javelin, or cover her un- 
protected shoulders with a corslet. Idolatry at once assails her, 
but Faith smites the hostile head bound with crime, bearing to the 
ground the bleeding mouth, and trampling on the glazed eyes. 
Her victorious retinue, recruited from the thousand martyrs, exults, 
while Faith rewards all, according to their deserts, with floral wreaths 
and purple robes. 

Next Chastity in gleaming armor meets on the grassy field the 
attack of Sodomite Lust, who tries to smirch her face and blind 
her eyes with the black smoke of her pitchy torch. But the unter- 
rified virgin strikes the torch from Lust’s hand with a stone, and 
with her sword cuts the throat of the disarmed courtesan. Black 
vapors rising from the bloody wound pollute the air, while over 
the lifeless body of the great tempter—‘“ vexatrix hominum ”—the 
victorious queen, after the copious epic fashion, exults in her triumph, 
which she likens to that of Judith. 

At once attention is drawn to Patience, as she stands unmoved 
in the midst of the tumult and slaughter of battle. Wrath sees 
her from afar, the “ Martis spectatrix libera nostri,” and with ugly 
threats hurls his spear. It falls, however, harmless from the breast- 
plate that the provident goddess has put on, and Patience remains 
undisturbed, a living embodiment of the virtue that Tertullian had 
so exalted. Then Wrath grasps his sword, and smites her helmet; 
but the blade is shattered, and in the fury of defeat Wrath slays 
himself with a spear which he snatches from the ground. Well, 
then, may Patience boast that, in her own peaceful way, without 
resort to weapons, she has triumphed over her foe. Meanwhile, 
her faithful supporter Job ceases from combat—such slight hints 
suggest the struggle raging about the protagonists—and together 
they pass through the army and leave the field. 

In spite of these reverses, the vices continue to force the fighting. 

Trans. Conn. Acap., Vol. XIV. 22 Marcu, 1910. 


324 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


Pride, clad in lion’s skin and linen mantle that bellies in the wind, 
dashes up on a fiery steed. The few ill-armed troops that Humility 
and Hope have gathered arouse only her scorn, and, riding out 
between the lines, she heaps ridicule upon them for daring to face 
her, and boasts that she will trample them down—Justice, poor 
Honesty, meager Sobriety, spare Fast, Shame, Simplicity, and all 
the rest. These threats and scoffs Pride utters as she spurs her 
unbridled steed wildly between the lines, hoping thus to terrify her 
humble foes and override them. But suddenly her charger stumbles, 
and falls headlong into a trench, which Fraud, to entrap the moving 
squadrons, has dug and cleverly concealed beneath branches and 
turf. Hope, seeing her enemy’s plight, runs hastily to Humility 
with a sword, and Pride’s head is soon hanging by the bloodwet 
hair. ‘Cease to boast,” cries Hope to her followers, “for God 
humbles the proud.” Leaving this as her final message, the virtue 
flles on golden wings to heaven. 

Thereupon Luxury, unmindful of her tarnished name, leaving a 
gluttonous feast, drives up in a chariot built of gold and silver, 
and studded with precious stones. A strange warfare this drunken, 
perfumed temptress, with her alluring eyes and languid voice, comes 
to wage. Instead of arrows and javelins she bears violets and roses, 
which she scatters from baskets among the Christian troops. Their 
limbs are weakened by the sweet odors, and they are ready to 
surrender, longing to serve under the debauched mistress and to 
be held by her lax, carnal laws. But Sobriety, smarting at such 
easy surrender, fixes the banner of the cross in the ground before 
the troops, and rouses their courage with reproaches and entreaties. 
Thus made mindful of their high lineage, and the greatness of their 
ancestors, the Jewish patriarchs, they advance. Luxury’s horses rear 
and overturn the chariot, and she herself is caught in the whirling 
wheels. As Sobriety kills her with a stone, her frightened followers 
flee—Jest and Illwill throwing away their cymbals, which have 
served as weapons, Love casting aside its arrows, and Pride its 
splendor. The valuables thus discarded are left untouched, at 
Sobriety’s command, to be trodden under foot. 

But Avarice, attracted by the plunder, greedily gathers up the 
fallen treasure with her hooked hand, filling not only her ample 
bosom, but the money-bags and the basket that hangs by her arm. 
Care, Famine, Fear, Anxiety, Perjury, Pallor, Deceit, Falsehood, 
Sleeplessness, and Uncleanness, follow their mother like wolves; for 
with one or another of these children Avarice assails every class 
of men to its ruin. The priests of God, whom she dares to tempt, 


The English Moral Plays 325 


are saved by reason from total subjection; but easily, by concealing 
her dread countenance under the guise of Moderation, she draws 
the unsuspecting soldiers into her toils. Rendered thus uncertain 
as to friend and foe, they give way, until Charity, although unarmed, 
attacks her. The virtue strangles her opponent, and stripping the 
booty from the corpse, gives it to the poor. 

Having thus slain the parent of so many evils, Charity expounds 
the lesson which man should learn from the sparrows’ simple trust 
in God. Immediately all care leaves the virtues, as the terrors of 
war vanish; the sword rests in its scabbard, and the field shines in 
the purple light of liquid day. The victors, led by Concord, return 
to camp singing joyful hymns, such as Israel sang when their pur- 
suers were swallowed up in the Red Sea. The victory, apparently, 
has been won. But just as Concord is about to enter the strong- 
hold, an enemy that has been lurking in the crowd of soldiers 
suddenly strikes her with his sword. The assailant is Discord, or 
Heresy, who has followed with murderous intent. Her attempt is 
foiled by the virtue’s armor, and it only remains for Faith, the queen 
of virtues and the first combatant, to pierce the tongue of the blas- 
phemer with her spear, and to deliver her to the soldiers to be 
torn to pieces and thrown to the dogs and birds of prey. The poem 
then closes with addresses by Faith and Concord, and by a prayer 
of thanks to Christ for his aid, and a look forward to his second 
coming, when sin shall be finally vanquished. 

The literary value of this poem and its relation to classical epics, 
need not concern the student of the moral plays. To what degree 
and in what manner, though, it expressed the ethical ideas of the 
fourth century, and what its influence was on the late Middle Ages, 
are of great importance. In the first place, its conception of the 
virtues and the vices was very characteristic ofits time. The struggle 
of Paganism against Christianity was as yet unfinished, and con- 
sequently the first of the theological virtues plays the leading role. 
It is Faith, remember, who begins the combat, and brings it to a 
close. The conception of Patience, moreover, corresponds closely 
to Tertullian’s ; and Charity, in accordance with the prevailing theo- 
logy, is depicted both as almsgiving and as love of God. In the second 
place, Prudentius gave these personifications a symbolic realism that 
kept them long alive in letters and art. The final ascent of Hope to 
heaven; the hooked hand of Avarice; the unruffled self-control of Pa- 
tience ; the pomp of Luxury—all were too truly suggestive to be for- 
gotten. They became the common property of poets and theologians, 
and proved readily adaptable to the needs of sculptors and painters. 


326 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


The influence of the Psychomachia on later allegorical literature 
can hardly be overestimated, though now and again it may be 
traceable only in a brief allusion. A sermon, for example, in which 
the vices are said to attack man from the rear, while the temp- 
tations lure on from the van, owes its thought, more or less directly, 
to Prudentius.! Other works borrow and adapt more freely. A 
significant instance of such detailed imitation is the Anticlaudianus, 
a Latin poem of the twelfth century in which Alain de Lille com- 
bined the epic account of the spiritual combat with an allegorical 
treatment of man’s intellectual qualities and of the seven liberal arts. 
It is at the end of the eighth book that the “divinus homo ” whom 
God has created in response to entreaties of Reason and Prudence 
and to whom Nature has given a body, is assailed by the familiar 
forces of evil. Discord, supported by such vices as Livor, Rabies, 
Furor, Impetus, Ira, and many more, leads the assault, while Pride 
advances with her army. Meanwhile the virtues prepare to defend 
man. Discord, who makes the first attack, is decapitated, and her 
followers either perish or flee. Then in turn other vices attack and 
are vanquished, Luxury by Sobriety, Lust by Reason, Imprudence 
by Prudence, Fraud by Faith, and Avarice by Generosity. Thus 
all the vices are repelled, and the Golden Age, when man and 
nature are without blemish, is ushered in. The combat occupies 
but a part of this poem, in which pagan influences and medieval 
scholasticism do not conceal the dominating influence of the Psycho- 
machia. 

More complete and more interesting, possibly, than the Avwti- 
claudianus is the thirteenth century poem, Lz Tornoiemenz Antecrit. 
It is also more strictly theological, for the author, Huon de Meri, 
wrote to attack the Albigenses, who regarded Christ as the great 
impostor, and, like the Jews, awaited the coming of the true Savior. 
In the poem, the approach of Antichrist is heralded by his chamber- 
lain, Bras-de-fer, who prepares the stronghold Desesperance for his 
lord’s reception. There Antichrist feasts his evil followers, and enter- 
tains them with Satanic minstrelsy. Next day his army is assembled 
for battle; Jupiter, Mars, Neptune, and other “barons of hell” ad- 
vance in company with Beelzebub and the long familiar vices of 
Christian allegory. No enumeration of their names could suggest 
the pains that the author gave himself to picture the soldiers of 
Antichrist, their numbers, their arms and banners. At the same time 
the army of Christ, composed of angels and all the other celestial 





1 De Pugna et Pace, Adam Praemonstrateus, Patr. Lat., 198. 151. 


The English Moral Hays 327 


orders, is marshaled in the city of Esperance. With the leaders, 
Michael, Gabriel and Raphael, are Mary herself, who has come to 
guard her chevaliers ; Virginity, with a few followers; Chastity, with 
a numerous retinue; and the other moral virtues supported by all 
the chivalry of France. 

Then the battle begins.!. Quarrelsomeness laces on his armor, and 
with his standard-bearer, Frenzy, attacks Silence, but only to meet 
defeat. Anger is captured by Gentleness, while Frenzy succumbs 
to Patience. Hate and Discord fall before Peace and Concord, and 
Falsehood is put to flight by Truth. From both sides hordes of 
combatants mingle in the fray; for here the story is not confined, 
as in the Psychomachia, to the deeds of the few great leaders. 
But in the confusion of battle the conflict between Virginity and 
Chastity on one side, and Fornication and Adultery, aided by Venus 
and Cupid, on the other, draws more than passing notice. Of still 
greater interest is the struggle of Faith against Heresy, at which 
point the author reaches the heart of his theme. The pagan gods, 
of course, fight on the side of Heresy, and Antichrist himself rides 
madly to his aid. But he is overcome by Saint Michael, and his 
army is routed. The virtues return triumphant to their city, where 
Penitence and Confession heal their wounds, and all join in the 
great feast spread by Generosity and Courtesy. 

It would require an extensive monograph to follow the course of 
the Psychomachia through medieval literature. In the seventh 
century Aldhelm described the combat between virginity and the 
principal vices, whom he represents as military leaders.* Peter of 
Blois, in introducing Faith as man’s advocate against the accuser, 
Satan, borrowed his picture of the virtue directly from the words of 
Prudentius.£ Raoul de Houdan told how the pilgrim, as he journeys 
toward Paradise, is threatened by Temptation, and how he is saved 
from the attack of the vices only through the armed intervention 
of the virtues. As the theme was thus developed, it lost its 
distinctively ecclesiastical tone. The French poet, Rutebeuf, retold 
the conflict briefly, less from a churchman’s point of view than from 
the satirist’s, and without any apparent moral purpose ; ® and Lydgate 
introduced it in a tediously prolix narrative poem, where the pagan 





1 2098 ff. 2 2767 fi. 

3 De Laudibus Virginitatis, Patr. Lat., 89. 110-13; also De Octo Prin- 
cipalibus Vitiis, Tbid., 281, and Bonaventura, De Pugna Spiritualt, contra 
septem vitia capitalia, 6, 21—27, + See above 311. 

5 Songe de Paradis, 141—92, 541—98. 

8 La Batatle des Vices contre les Vertus, 20-36. 


328 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


and the Christian are mingled in strange confusion.! Insufficient as 
they are, these few references will show how widely, and with what 
a variety of motives, the story of the Psychomachia was transmitted 
through medieval literature. 

Without any additional evidence from sources more remote, it is 
interesting to read the same story of the opposition of vice to 
virtue as it was written in stone by the sculptors of the cathedrals. 
On account of the medium in which they worked, their rendering 
of the moral struggle was static, gaining its effect by visible contrast 
rather than by action. The virtues and vices are grouped in pairs, 
the former represented as dignified women, sitting composedly, as 
though filled with the peace of God, the latter as men or women 
under the sway of some uncontrolled passion. For example, Faith 
is seated on a bench holding a shield emblazoned with her sym- 
bols, a cross and a chalice. Opposite her is Idolatry—a man worship- 
ing a monkey-shaped idol. Charity is represented in the act of 
giving her clothing to the poor, while Avarice greedily fills her 
treasure-box. Still more directly did the sculptors draw from the 
text of the Psychomachia for their image of Pride, whom they 
represented falling from a stumbling horse. In a second group of 
allegorical medallions on the north portal of the cathedral of Chartres, 
the triumphant virtues stand over the prostrate forms of their van- 
quished foes, as if in illustration of the close of the separate combats 
of the Psychomachia. So the contrasted virtues and vices are 
depicted in pairs on the facades of the great cathedrals, virtue being 
represented in its essence, and vice by its lamentable effects.” 

For this method of contrast, which at first seems peculiar to pic- 
torial art, one can find theological authority. In the instructions for 
the adaptation of discourse given in the Pastoral Care, Gregory 
placed side by side the psychological extremes—the lowly nature 
with the haughty, the peaceful with the quarrelsome, the kind with 
the envious. In a more vivid manner Isidore of Seville contrasted 
the virtues and the vices in pairs, Abstinence and Lust, Envy and 
Charity, and the like, with a brief exposition of each.? Likewise in 
the treatise, De Conflictu Vitiorum et Virtutum, which has been at- 
tributed to a half-dozen different churchmen, the author enumerates 
the full list of opposed virtues and vices. He then steps aside to 





1 Assembly of Gods, especially 603 ff. 

2 See Male, 1832-59. In the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries the 
vices as well as the virtues were personified instead of being represented 
by their effects. See Male?, 2. 1. 

3 Sententiarum Libr? Tres, Patr. Lat., 83. 638 (2. 37). 


The English Moral Plays 329 


permit the contention to go on. Pride, the mother of vices, reminds 
the hearers that they are superior to most men in knowledge and 
position, and urges them to show a proper disdain for the lowly. 
But Humility at once interposes her warning. “Remember,” she 
admonishes, “that you are dust and ashes, a worm. Are you 
stronger than the first angel? ... If he for his pride fell from his seat 
of eminence, how can you, if proud, hope to rise thither from 
a lower level?”! In this debate, however, there is a dramatic 
movement that recalls us from the purely static exposition of Isidore 
and the sculptors to the action of the Psychomachia, and reminds 
the reader that in all these many versions of the one theme the 
influence of that poem is directly traceable. 

There was, though, a second method of presenting allegorically 
man’s inward struggle. Instead of risking their safety in the open 
field, the virtues, entrenched in their stronghold, the soul, resist the 
assault of the vices. This variation was especially popular with 
theologians in whom the moral inclination dominated the literary. 
To be sure, between the battle and the siege there is no essential 
distinction. The opening lines of the Psychomachia allude to such 
a siege, and Rutebeuf gave as much attention to one as to the 
other. But, since the fall of Jerusalem was commonly interpreted 
as an allegory of the downfall of the human soul before temptation, 
theologians were likely to select the siege as the fittest symbol of 
the nature of temptation.’ 

References more or less plain to the siege that the virtues are 
forced to undergo can be found in Cyprian and The Pastor of 
Hermas. But for a suggestion of action such as can make alle- 
gory of lifelike interest, one must turn again to Prudentius, who, 
even before writing the Psychomachia, had given in the Hamartigenia 
a dramatic sketch of the assault upon the soul. In that poem 
Prudentius traces the origin of evil, not to a god as did Marcion, 
but to a Satanic power whom he brands “the slave of hell.” It is 
he who with enticements to evil leads the assault upon the soul, 
like a powerful robber besetting the troubled minds of men. Ire, 
Superstition, Grief, Discord, and kindred vices lead his cohorts, 
while other forms, misshapen and terrifying, press to their aid. 
“Relying on such strength, the destroyer subdues the minds of men 
and beguiles them to bend their necks to the yoke.”* These 





1 See Patr. Lat., 83. 1131—44. 
2 Hugo de S. Victor, De Civitate Sancta Jerusalem, Patr. Lat., 177%. 
999-1003. 3 389—449. 


330 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


lieutenants who fight under Satan are sexless, but they are truly 
allegorical, and must have given precedent for the symbol of the 
besieged soul. 

Despite the influence of Prudentius, no ecclesiastic for many years. 
adopted for extensive treatment the idea here expressed. It may 
be just as significant for the future, however, that it 1s found per- 
vading a great work like Gregory’s Morals of the Book of Job, as 
naturally as though it were essential to the Christian faith. In his 
preface Gregory explains that Job was beset from without by mis- 
fortune, and from within by the insidious counsel of wife and 
friends—Satan, as it were, leading an army to assail him with the 
battering-ram of temptation. Again and again he recurs to the 
idea! Each separate sin, he asserts, lays siege against the mind, 
as its enemies besieged Jerusalem. Even if only one point is left 
unguarded Satan will find entrance, as he did in the heart of the 
proud Pharisee. But to fall in that way is really inexcusable; for 
to combat each vice man may find a specific virtue that will 
keep the city of the soul unshaken. Thus Gregory perpetuated 
the idea that Cyprian and Prudentius expressed, without the use of 
allegorical figures, to be sure, such as appear in the Hamartigenia, 
but with an increased emphasis laid on the distinctive character of 
the allegory—the siege. 

We can not hope to trace the development of this branch of the 
allegory. Two instances will show how Gregory’s teaching was 
given a more dramatic and sustained treatment by great churchmen 
of the twelfth century. Hugo of Saint Victor, in preaching on the 
watchfulness that the Christian should maintain against temptation, 
likens the goodman of the house, whom Luke mentions, to the 
mind; his home to the conscience; and his family to his five 
senses and his outward and inward acts. The great enemy or 
thief is the Devil, who, however, is not alone, for in opposition to 
each virtue is a vice. It therefore behooves the goodman to 
fortify his house against these thieves, placing at the first gate 
Prudence, then Bravery, and, well within the walls, Justice. These 
three must maintain a constant watch, lest the thief assail them 
unawares.” 

The dramatic possibilities of this theme were much enhanced 
by combining it with the parable of the Prodigal Son. Especially 





1 Bk. 3. par. 12, Bk. 8. par. 8, Bk. 20. par. 53. 
2 Patr. Lat., 177. 185. On Luke 12. 39. See also Bernard, De Tribus 
TInimicts Hominis, 5. 528-29. 


The English Moral Plays 331 


significant for the student of the moralities is the version variously 
attributed to Hugo or Saint Bernard, in which a considerable portion 
of the parable is given in dialogue. A mighty king has endowed 
his son with all blessings. But the son abuses the greatest gift, 
the knowledge of good and evil, and, falling into the power of 
Satan, is chained in the prison of despair. The father, however, 
does not forget him, and although his first messenger, Fear, ac- 
complishes nothing, he sends a second, Hope, who finally rouses 
the prisoner from the deadening grasp of sin and the fetters of 
bad habit. Helping him to mount the steed, Desire, and furnishing 
him with the saddle of Devotion and the spurs of Good Example, 
Hope encourages him to flee, while Fear drives him on. But, 
because a bridle is lacking, the flight becomes uncontrolled. Pru- 
dence and Temperance have then to check their rash haste, and 
supply the bridle of Discretion to make possible a more orderly 
retreat. Thus they advance, Hope leading the Prodigal Son, Force 
protecting, Prudence guiding, and Justice advising, till they reach 
at last the castle of Wisdom, within whose moat and walls they 
find refuge. 

But Satan, like Pharaoh following the children of Israel, has been 
in close pursuit, and with his hosts at once besieges the castle. 
They mine the fortifications, they cast burning brands over the 
walls, they place ambuscades. The defenders are seized with fear, 
and Prayer, on the advice of Prudence and Wisdom, is hurriedly 
dispatched to the father for aid. Charity, who returns with the 
relieving party, arrives just in time to save the city from surrender. 
The son is then conducted to his father’s home, where he is received 
with great rejoicing.} 

The siege, then, as a symbol of the strife in man’s heart between 
the inclinations to good and to evil, was just as widely accepted 
as was the theme of combat.? It seems to have been preferred 
by the more strictly religious writers, and therefore, though tangible 
evidence is insufficient to warrant such a deduction, may have 
been more commonly used in the didactic plays. The reader 
already knows how seriously the earliest extant morality handles 
the siege. The same episode appears again in the late play, Mary 
Magdalene, which is half miracle-play and half morality. It is true 





1 Bernard, De Pugna Spirituali, G@uvres Completes, 4. 102-19. Grober, 
2. 1, 202, offers no conjecture as to the true author. Bourgain, 216, 
attributes the parable to Hugo de 8. Victor. 

2 The Pilgrimage of the Life of Man, 11769 ff. and 15489 ff., and Piers 
Plowman, Passus 19—20. 


332 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


that the text of that play barely alludes to the assault; it tells 
simply that Mary sought refuge in her castle, where she was be- 
sieged by the vices under the command of the World, the Flesh, 
and the Devil. But the stage directions state explicitly, “Her xal 
all be vij dedly synnes be-sege pe castell.” This, apparently, was 
the cue from which the actors were to carry through a scene long 
familiar on the stage.? 

In no early play is there a representation of the epic combat 
in the open—the psychomachia proper. An interesting survival, 
however, of the popular mo#f, is found in the late fifteenth-century 
play, Nature. After the vices have gained control over Man, and 
while Reason is laboring to save him, Wrath and Envy present 
themselves before the five remaining vices “defensibly arrayed”; 
for they have heard rumors of a coming “fray” between Reason 
and Man. But the other sins are not so ready to enter the fray; 
from their characters, why should it be expected of them? Bodily 
Lust declares campaigning to be extremely irksome and fatiguing to 
him; Gluttony, though armed with a bottle, announces that he will 
stand well “out of danger of gun shot”; and Sloth takes to his 
bed, and pleads sickness to excuse him. Even Envy is not keen 
for fight, and in a spirit of mischievous malice persuades Pride, 
who appears late on the scene with a retinue for whose equipment 
he has mortgaged his estates, that the battle is already done, and 
that men accuse him of cowardly desertion. In this travesty of the 
Psychomachia the reader sees that Medwell, the author, had been 
so touched by the spirit of humanism that the old story seemed 
dramatically weak and uninteresting. Quite fittingly, Anger might 
thirst for battle; but it would be inconsistent for Sloth or Gluttony 
to desire any sort of exertion. Hence Medwell burlesqued the 
battle, and introduced Age to stifle man’s lust and so reconcile the 
opposed forces. Never, though, would he have adapted the old 
theme in this way had it not been well known in its original form.? 





*In a French morality, the Church is assailed by Heresy, Simony, 
and Scandal. Petit de Julleville, Repertorre, 66. In The Contention between 
Liberality and Prodigality, Prodigality attempts to enter Fortune’s bower 
by a ladder; but she “claps a halter about his neck” and he falls, fortu- 
nately breaking the halter. This interesting scene probably owes nothing 
to these early plays. The play was printed in 1600. 

2 In a French morality, Honneur des Dames, Danger, Envie, and Male- 
bouche attack Honneur des Dames and are defeated by her protectors, 
Frane Vouloir and Cour Loyal. This is clearly a reminiscence of the 
struggle in the Roman de la Rose. Répertoire, 7A. 


The English Moral Plays 333 


But it would be blind to measure by these few direct survivals 
the influence of the Psychomachia upon the moral plays. The ac- 
tual narrative of the poem was not dramatized any more frequently 
than the Dance of Death or the debate of Mercy, Truth, Righteousness, 
and Peace. One therefore calls Prudentius the father of the morality 
not because he supplied an episode for the allegorical plays of a later 
time, though that too he did; but because he established, if he did 
not actually create, the idea upon which all those plays were based. 
The feeling that life is a spiritual combat between man’s good and 
evil impulses, on whose outcome depends his destiny—that the 
Middle Ages owed to him. Furthermore, his method of dissociating 
those qualities from the soul, and bringing them as human beings 
into a visible opposition, offered the churchmen who would carry 
their precept to the theater the readiest means of dramatization. 
The hero, Man, was brought upon the stage, and surrounded by a 
number of men and women who represented the states of his inner 
life; he was deceived and debauched by the vicious characters, 
and aided, and usually saved, by the good. The dramatic method 
took the place of the narrative, and the realism of everyday life 
was substituted for the romance of the outworn epic; but in spirit 
and in general plan the morality plays were only a retelling of the 
fourth-century allegorical epic. 


CHAPTER 1V.—THEOLOGY In THE Mora Ptays. 


Thus the whole Christian world came to think most intimately 
of man’s spiritual welfare as dependent upon the triumph of the 
cardinal virtues over the deadly sins. The story of the Psycho- 
machia was transferred without essential modification to the stages 
of England, and in an equally direct, though less open, manner in- 
fluenced the moralities at their very inception, by virtually creating 
the allegorical idea that is the distinctive mark of the type. But 
in addition to supplying the allegorical conception of life as a 
combat, the poem also determined the character of the doctrinal 
lesson that the earliest known moralities sought to teach. To ex- 





1 It is wrong to stress, as Ramsay does (Magnificence, cli), the fact that 
the Psychomachia lacks the central figure around whom the moral play 
centered. The opening lines of the poem, as they have been quoted above, 
make in plain that the combatants are the impulses that dwell in man’s 
soul, and that the story is a soul’s history. 


334 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


plain in detail how the allegory of Prudentius influenced the church’s 
understanding of one of the corner-stones of its faith, will gather 
together all that has been thus far said of the influence of the 
Psychomachia, and of the alliance between the pulpit and the stage. 

Very curiously, it may seem to the modern mind, the seven 
petitions of the Lord’s Prayer, like the first seven Beatitudes, were 
connected with Isaiah’s vision: “And the spirit of the Lord shall 
rest upon him,, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit 
of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and piety, and the 
spirit of the fear of the Lord shall fill him.”!? Augustine explains 
how the petitions of the Pater Noster call for this “sevenfold 
operation of the Holy Ghost,” beginning with the last, which as 
the lowest in rank is the first for man to acquire, and leading up 
to those that concern the heavenly life.2, The thought was universally 
adopted by the church, to be incorporated into such widely in- 
fluential encyclopedias of doctrine as the G/ossa Ordinaria, and 
such treatises as the Speculum Ecclesiae.* Thus the separate clauses 
of the prayer came to stand very definitely for seven spiritual traits ; 
but, in view of this, they could not fail to be regarded also as 
antithetic to the seven deadly sins. Churchmen taught that the 
first petition was a call for protection against pride, the second 
against envy, and the others in order pleas against wrath, sloth, 
avarice, gluttony, and lust. Accordingly, the figures of these seven 
virtues and seven vices hovered before the eyes of the children 
of the church, suggesting more or less vividly, according to the 
personal equation, the battle of Prudentius’ poem. Here, then, one 
finds how directly the influence of the Psychomachia inspired the 
interpretation of one of the most fundamental portions of Christian 
instruction. 

Even this superficial synopsis of medieval commentary will il- 
lustrate the nature and origin of the earliest known morality plays 
both in England and France. In 1384 Wiclif mentioned “ be pater- 
noster in englizsch tunge, as men seyen in pe pley of York.”® 
This piece is described by the records of the gild that had its per- 
formance in charge as “a play, setting forth the goodness of the 





‘ Tsaiah 11. 2. I translate from the Vulgate. 

* Our Lord’s Sermon on the Mount, Bk.1, chaps. 3, 4; Bk. 2, chaps. 10, 11. 

3 Strabo, Glossa Ordinaria, Patr. Lat., 114. 100—08. Spec. Fecl. Tbid., 
172. 819. 

* Hugo deS. Victor, Allegoriae in Novum Testamentum, Patr. Lat., 175. T4— 
87. Lib. 2, chaps. 3-14. 


5 York Plays, Xxviii—xxix. 


The English Moral Plays 335 


Lord’s Prayer... in which play all manner of vices and sins were 
held up to scorn, and the virtues were held up to praise.”?  Like- 
wise in the Pater Noster plays at Beverley and Lincoln the craftsmen 
of the towns represented on a series of pageants the cardinal sins, 
as they bore, it must be inferred, on the petitions of the prayer, 
‘The representation of Gluttony, for example, was fittingly assigned 
to the bakers, vintners, innkeepers, cooks, and tilers.2_ In France, 
also, the earliest known morality, performed at Tours in 1390, 
concerned the deadly sins.* Thus as early as the time of Wiclif, 
assuredly, the church’s exposition of the Pater Noster was displayed 
concretely on the stage, “for the health and amendment of the 
souls as well of the upholders as of the hearers.” * 

As evidence of the importance attached by medieval churchmen 
to the teaching of the Lord’s Prayer and the sacraments, no more 
conclusive or timely document can be cited than the Constitutions 
issued in 1237 by Grosseteste, the reforming bishop of Lincoln. 
This episcopal charge was modeled to conform to the Constitutions 
framed by Edmund Rich and the bishops in attendance with him 
at the Council of London, and to the canons of the third and fourth 
Lateran Councils in 1179 and 1215.5 But while they specified in 
a more or less general way the qualifications that appointees to 
the different grades of clerical service should have, stressing especially 
the need for a thorough understanding of the sacraments, Grosseteste 
gave the most explicit commands. In the first of the forty-five 
articles of his charge, he stipulated that the clergy should be com- 
petent to instruct their parishioners in the Decalogue, the temptations 
of the deadly sins, the Articles of Faith expressed in the three 
creeds, and the significance of the sacraments. These points of 
doctrine were promulgated not only in formally declared ‘“ Con- 
stitutions,” but in treatises like Archbishop Rich’s Mirror of the 
Church and the widely translated Somme des Vices et des Vertues® ; 
in religious poems like Grosseteste’s own Chasteau d’ Amour and 





' English Gilds, 137 ff. 

* Leach, 220-21. The first of the eight pageants at Beverley was 
given to “ Viciose.” Chambers conjectures (2. 154) that this figure 
was the representative of “ frail humanity,’ who became the central figure 
of the later morals. See also. Ramsay, Magnijficence, cliii. 

? Petit de Julleville, Repertoire, 137. 

* English Gilds, 137. 

5 Stevenson, 132-38; Mansi, 22. 217 ff., 998 ff.; Lyndwood, 8—10, 
55—56. 

6 Petit de Julleville, Aistocre, 2. 178-82. Date 1279. 


336 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


Lydgate’s Pilgrimage of the Life of Man‘; and in actual sermons, 
of which that of Archbishop Thoresby of York may be taken as 
representative.2_ Through all these channels, the points of doctrine 
that ecclesiastical councils declared most essential were conveyed 
to the masses of the people. 

It is not surprising that the citizens of these ancient midland and 
northern cities should have undertaken to spread these doctrines 
through allegorical representation in the sacred plays for which 
they had received a long preparation in liturgical performances. 
The earliest of these moral plays, the Pater Noster play, the Sacra- 
ment play, and the Creed play, originated, significantly, in the 
region where these Constitutions were most ardently proclaimed 
by reformers like Grosseteste.? The Play of the Sacrament is not 
strictly a moral play, for its method is neither allegorical nor ex- 
pository, but it should be mentioned as an indication of the popular 
interest in these subjects. The York Creed play, as far as can be 
told, more nearly resembled the Pater Noster play. Although noth- 
ing definite concerning it is known, save the fact of its performance 
once every ten years by the Corpus Christi Gild, the conjecture 
is not unreasonable that it was acted by twelve men representing 
the Apostles, to whom the twelve separate portions of the Creed 
were traditionally assigned by the theologians of the time.* If so, 
it was then but another dramatic piece devised to supplement the 
efforts of the pulpit. 

These Creed and Pater Noster plays were presented by religious 
gilds under municipal supervision while the allegorical drama was 
as yet in its earliest development. The matter, though, that they 
contain was not soon dropped from the players’ repertoire. The 
sixteenth-century play, The World and the Child, an abbreviated 
“full-scope” morality clearly modeled upon the general lines of 
The Castle of Perseverance, contains a systematic portrayal of the 
deadly sins, the Decalogue, and the Articles of Faith that were pre- 
scribed by the Constitutions of the early thirteenth century. 

The hero appears first as a naked infant, and develops with in- 
credible haste through boyhood and youth to manhood and old age. 
But after the brief account of the pranks of the boy and the temp- 








' 6580—7036. 

2 In Religious Pieces. For similar French sermons see Lecoy de la 
Marche, 276. 

’ The northern versions of the Cursor Mundi contain these same doct- 
rinal points, but the other versions, as far as I know, do not. 

4 Davies, York Records, 272—73, n. 


The English Moral Plays 337 


tations of the youth, only the general allegory of sin and conversion 
that is found in the first part of The Castle of Perseverance, without 
the combat or the judgment, is presented. Thus the action of the 
play was made shorter and more direct, without essentially changing 
its didactic method; for the same direct relation between the play 
and the teachings emphasized in the Constitutions is apparent. 

World is represented as giving his seven servants, the Deadly 
Sins, to be the companions of Man. But Conscience, after thought- 
fully introducing himself to the spectators, undertakes to expose these 
vices in their true light. His doctrine is sound, but a trifle weari- 
some, and on his exit poor Man exclaims: 


yea, come wind and rain, (477). 
God let him never come here again. 


Such feelings render him an easy prey to Folly’s enticements, and 
he straightway experiences the carnal pleasures that the heroes 
of these plays so often crave. But since Conscience is not so 
straight-laced a moralist as to condemn rightly moderated pleasure, 
he and Perseverance are able to convert the rapidly aging sinner. 
Perseverance tells him how Peter, Paul, Mary Magdalene, and Thomas, 
after sinning grievously, repented and became saints. He declares, 
too, that for attaining salvation it is necessary to have rightly 
ordered both the five bodily and the five spiritual senses, as well 
as to accept the twelve Articles of Faith, which he enumerates, and 
to observe the Ten Commandments, which Conscience has already 
explained.!. With this well-meant advice, the good counselors leave 
the hero with a prayer for Christ’s mercy upon the audience. The 
World and the Child, in short, is a late morality, more dramatic, 
presumably, than the ancient Creed and Pater Noster plays of York, 
but written for the same end of enforcing the doctrinal teaching 
that Grosseteste and his fellow bishops considered. so imperatively 
necessary for all men. 

In a field of dramatic literature so completely dominated by the 
church, it is obvious that no one phase of its ecclesiastical spirit 
would appear to the exclusion of another. Hence, although the 
purpose of the Pater Noster play was primarily doctrinal, the in- 
clusion of the seven vices gave opportunity for ethical instruction. 
This would be but natural; for one of the distinctive features of 
medieval religious thought was its twofold character. It embraced, 
on the one hand, a great body of doctrinal philosophy, whose end, 





1 Manly, 383. 


338 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


it may be said, was largely faith, and, on the other, an equally 
large body of homiletic teaching, whose end was mainly works. 
Churchmen could with equal facility expound the powers that be- 
long in particular to each of the members of the Trinity, or point 
a simple moral against idleness. Upon the useless subtlety and ex- 
treme impracticability of the theological speculation, our contem- 
poraries are too prone to insist, even when they are most blind to 
the practical moral teaching that went hand in hand with it. A 
reminder, then, is often needed that in medieval religious thought 
there was this union of theology and morality, of the impractical 
and ephemeral and the practical and enduring, of faith and works. 

The best single example of a play so combining doctrinal theo- 
logy and practical ethics is the Macro morality, Wisdom Who is 
Christ. The first portion of the play is strictly theological; the 
second, which is not of present concern, is suggestive of con- 
temporary society ; the third is ethical.' In the first division, Wisdom 
introduces himself to the audience as a quality present in each 
member of the Trinity, but especially in the Son. She then explains 
to Soul how a man’s psychic nature is composed of two parts, 
sensuality, as ruled by the five senses, and reason, the image of 
God. It is supplied with three distinct powers, Mind, which brings 
man to a knowledge of the Father; Understanding, which reveals 
Christ; and Will, which inspires love for the Holy Ghost. These 
senses and powers the dramatist has completely externalized in his 
allegory. The five senses appear as virgins singing a psalm; the 
three powers play leading roles; the soul itself appears, first in 
a white robe adorned with gold, then, after the powers have 
sinned, “in be most horrybull wyse, fowlere ban a fende.” In thus 
humanizing his abstractions, however, the dramatist has not for- 
gotten his theology. The soul is still to him a psychic entity, 
doomed to suffer for Adam’s sin, and saved only by Christ’s Pas- 
sion and by his own baptism. From its three powers come re- 
spectively Faith, Hope, and Charity, and opposed to them are the 
World, the Flesh, and the Devil. Above all else the soul has 
freedom of the will. 

After Wisdom has expounded this orthodox psychology, Lucifer, 
in the disguise of a gallant, tempts Mind, Will, and Understanding 
by persuading them to despise the contemplative life, and to regard 
work as preferable to meditation and prayer. He even urges them 
to marry, and to enjoy riches and good clothing, for “ Gode,” he 





1 1-552, 552-877, 877—end. 


The English Moral Plays 339 


says, “lowyt a clene sowll & a mery.” These are mild temptations, 
it seems to-day, but they were regarded then as sufficient to lead 
the powers to actual sin. 

Thus the discourses of Wisdom and Lucifer, one laying the foun- 
dations of the whole play, the other getting the action started, are 
purely theological, and the characters are very far from being real 
beings. Pollard, therefore, calls the play intellectually weak. It is 
such only if we are willing to call all medieval theologians intel- 
lectually deficient, and one can regard it as such only through 
misunderstanding. Let us take from the play a single illustration. 
To be sure, the church did value most highly for those few superior 
minds the life of contemplation. For some, then, celibacy, self- 
renunciation, and other-worldliness, which Lucifer derides, were ur- 
gently insisted on. But for the world in general the active life was 
not disparaged. Augustine taught that both were essential, and that 
in pursuing the life of contemplation a man should not neglect the 
service due to his neighbor.1 Bernard, likewise, exhibited the 
relations that bind together the two modes of life, and insisted that 
one should be able to turn from contemplation to action without 
succumbing to sin.2 This doctrine was repeated in England by 
Richard Rolle of Hampole.2 The harmonizing of the two courses 
of life is also beautifully rendered in stone on the north portal of 
the Chartres cathedral. Two large statues that once symbolized the 
active life and the contemplative life have been destroyed; but 
underneath still remain twelve little statues representing with the 
most naive and expressive realism certain typical duties that each 
may demand. On the left, six statues represent women cheerfully 
at work washing and combing wool, and preparing flax, by breaking 
and carding, for the spinning and the winding on skeins. On the 
right, six other statues show women praying, opening a_ book, 
reading, meditating, teaching, and sunk in a mystical revery. In 
the vaulting, apart from the series, but as a final expression of the 
contrast, are seen a shoemaker at work and a monk at study. 
Into these records of daily toil the sculptors could put all their 
creative force; for, though the church urged upon the few the 
transcendent joys of contemplation, it never slighted for the many 
the necessity of labor, or sought to depreciate it. All this would 
be a commonplace to the spectators who witnessed the performance 





' City of God, Bk. 19. chap, 19. See also Gregory, Morals, 2. 433. 

2 Guvres Completes, 6. 101—02; 7. 270-74. 

s519—25. 

Trans Conn. Acap., Vol. XIV. 23 Marcu, 1910. 


340 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


of Wisdom; by them, therefore, the theological teaching of the 
play would not be misunderstood. 

For the practical, ethical instruction that closes the play no such 
commentary is needed. Wisdom re-enters, and by earnest warnings 
seeks to reclaim the three erring powers of the soul. He speaks 
effectively of the necessity of contrition and prayer for forgiveness, 
and shows the futility of self-torture for winning salvation, as com- 
pared with the observation of nine simple duties most pleasing to 
God. These are: charity to the poor, sorrow for Christ’s suffering, 
patience under reproof, watching for love of God, pity for the sick, 
restraint in speech, a feeling of responsibility for a neighbor’s soul, 
prayer, and the love of God. By this simple homily the three 
sinners are reclaimed. If the teaching in the first portion of the 
play seems impractical, here, at least, is much good advice for 
right living. This contrast between the practical and the unpractical 
is very characteristic of medieval theology and homiletics, and it 
has been reflected plainly in the morality plays. 

For the propagation of some specific doctrine and of piety in 
general, wealthy, play-loving cities like York and Lincoln could 
make permanent arrangements on an elaborate scale. But in a less 
pretentious way, any churchman could arrange for a simple dramatic 
entertainment to illustrate the truths that he was teaching. Such, 
doubtless, were the plays of whose performance in the open air on 
Sunday afternoons Bishop Bale bears witness. One specimen of 
such dramatized sermons the simple moral play, Saint John the 
Evangelist, has been assumed to be. It opens with a discourse by 
the Evangelist on the contemplative life, which he terms “the 
sweetest life.” Almost immediately he returns to preach again on 
the Crucifixion, and at the end, giving little chance for any im- 
portant action to intervene, he delivers a longer homily on the 
parable of the Publican and the Pharisee at prayer. From this he 
draws the identical lesson on the contrast between pride and hu- 
mility that is found so universally in medieval commentary. The 
Pharisee’s presumption in beginning his prayer with thanks rather 
than with confession; the fact that the three sins of which he 
boasts himself innocent really embrace all sin; the inevitable ruin 
that such pride brings—these were the common teachings of the 
church, just the simple lessons most suitable for short, open-air 
services. And indications are not wanting in the text that the play, 
like the sermons it would imitate, was given in the open. As John 
finishes his first homily, Eugenio makes the comment, “methinks 
I have heard you preach or this at Paul’s Cross.” Later, Evil 


The English Moral Plays 341 


Council ventures the opinion, without any reference to an edifice, 
“we shall have a sermon or night.” The inference is that this 
simple religious play was used as a substitute for the sermons so 
often preached in the open air on Sunday afternoons. 

The substance of this chapter may now be briefly summarized. 
As the ecclesiastical playwrights drew from the Psychomachia the 
allegorical conception of spiritual life that prevailed in every play, 
so from it they derived also the understanding of the Lord’s Prayer 
that they sought to expound in the earliest known play. Other 
similar lessons, especially those emphasized by Robert Grosseteste, 
were dramatized in exactly the same spirit. To the doctrine thus 
introduced to form the bone and sinew of the Pater Noster plays, 
Wisdom and other early moralities, as well as later plays like John 
the Evangelist, remained true. In thus holding close to the text- 
book of the church, the morality plays reflect truly and adequately 
the spirit of medieval theological thought. 


CuHapteR V.—Conrtrisutory ALLEGORIES. 


Although the Psychomachia established the conception of spiritual 
life as an open conflict between the externalized and allegorized 
traits of man’s soul, and determined, too, the special teaching of 
the earliest Pater Noster plays, that poem was not the only influence 
upon the allegory of the rising religious drama. The taste for 
allegory was so literally part of the web and woof of medieval 
thought that other themes were adapted in the same way for 
dramatic presentation. But where the Psychomachia must rank as 
a creative force, these others should be regarded as secondary or 
contributory. The medieval debates—debats—gave only an indirect 
stimulus to the revival of dramatic literature, and certain allegorical 
themes drawn from the religious thought of the age to furnish 
episodes for the drama seem distinctly dependent upon the theme 
of conflict. Ramsay believes that these themes, the Dance of Death, 
the Debate of the Body and the Soul, and the dispute between 
Mercy and Truth, Peace and Righteousness, at first occupied a 
position equal in importance to that of the Psychomachia.1 But 
they serve, in substance, as sequels to the theme of conflict, and 
do not stand naturally alone. Those few plays, like Everyman, not 
actually grounded upon the conflict, are at least dependent upon it. 








1 Magnificence, cxlviii. 


342 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


The comparative frequency of these other themes, therefore, in the 
few extant early plays should not lead to the displacement of the 
Psychomachia from the position to which its general historical im- 
portance, its influence on the earliest known morals, as it has been 
shown, and its evident influence upon this whole dramatic type, 
have raised it, in favor of these other religious topics which were 
added to the fundamental theme to extend and diversify it. 

The debate, which should be regarded as the least direct of these 
secondary influences, came to the Middle Ages from the secular 
literature of classical antiquity. In the pastoral poetry of Theocritus 
and Virgil it had become a stereotyped form, and in the work of 
the philosophers a recognized means of instruction. This alone 
would have given it the seal of authority for the Latinists of the 
Middle Ages, who ranked Virgil so highly. But the debate was 
handed on not alone through the channel of established literary 
tradition, but also along the devious paths of popular minstrelsy.? 
This type of poem, therefore, was widely disseminated through 
Europe, both in the formal literature that would bow to the tradition 
of Virgil or the philosophers, and in the popular poetry that re- 
sponded to the tastes of the people. One understands, then, how 
certain themes, like the debates between the Body and the Soul, 
Winter and Summer, and Wine and Water, made their way into 
so many different literatures; and one can easily see that this sort 
of poetic dialogue, as adapted especially by the minstrels, would 
unquestionably figure in the renaissance of the drama. 

The universal vogue of the debate in medieval literature causes 
some scholars to regard it as the broad type of which the moral 
combat was only a specialized form.’ Between the two, indeed, 
existed a sort of kinship in dramatic potentiality, and an adaptability 
for allegory. But the inspiration of Prudentius came in matters of 
literary form from the classical epic, in spirit from the New Testa- 
ment and the Fathers; and as long as the theme of allegorical 
combat retained its original seriousness, it withstood noticeable 
modifications from the debate. The two literary traditions were 
advancing along closely adjacent, but parallel, courses. Only when 
the machinery of the Psychomachia was applied to themes more 
and more trivial was cross influence felt. This is not plain in 
the Lataille des Sept Arts, for at a time when ignorance as well 
as sin were attributed to Adam’s fall, Henri of Andeli’s theme was 





b dlenetcderle Beal 2 Ebid. 22: 


3 Gaston Paris, 176-77. 


The English Moral Plays 343 


not altogether alien to the matter of the Psychomachia. But the 
Bataille d’Enfer et de Paradis, in which the principals are represented 
by their respective champions, the cities Arras and Paris personified, 
and especially the Bataille de Karesme et de Charnage, which may 
be called the mock-heroic of this literary genre, owe, I think, less 
to the Psychomachia than to such pieces as the debate between 
wine and water. These trivial combats, however, are plain per- 
versions of the theme; serious combat-literature, which alone had 
influence on the early morals, was unaffected by the debate. 

One illustration may make the matter clear. In the Bataille that 
we call the mock-heroic two great barons meet at court, one Ka- 
resme (Lent), the other Charnage (the period when flesh may be 
eaten). Lent is haughty and insults Flesh-Time, and, when he 
retorts angrily, orders him from the palace. But the supporters of 
each are hot-headed, and blows follow words, so that the poem, 
which promised at the outset to be a mere debate, becomes a 
chronicle of actual conflict, in which the whale, the herring, and 
all the other “chevaliers de mer” fight with Lent, while choice 
cuts of beef, pork, and venison, rally to Flesh-Time’s aid. The cat- 
alogue of combatants is tediously drawn out, the poet being evidently 
a gourmand with no taint of Fletcherism. Suffice to say, the battle 
is long and hard—so the reader is told—and Lent is decisively 
worsted, largely because Christmas with her “ bacons,” the Bluechers 
of the day, arrive in time. Lent is forced to come to terms of sub- 
mission, and becomes the vassal of Lord Flesh-Time. 

Such was the contamination that the theme of moral conflict 
suffered from the debate; but, since the contamination did not affect 
the serious moral combats that alone would inspire the early mo- 
ralities, the debate should be studied as an independent influence 
upon the drama. The form of the debate is essentially dramatic. 
In some poems the author himself reports a controversy that he 
professes to have heard; in others, the contestants themselves carry 
on the dispute, debating vigorously the pros and cons of a question 
that one puts formally to the other. The subject-matter was varied 
—though not so much as one would expect; but whether it was 
secular or religious, trivial or significant, the form was always in 
essence dramatic, necessitating the use of dialogue, however crude 
or tedious, and giving opportunity for a suggestion of complication 
and action. Unquestionably, therefore, the debate must have furthered 
somewhat the rise of the regular modern drama. 

Many debates, of course, were too simple to reveal any of the 
dramatic possibilities that were latent in the class. What these 


344 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


possibilities might really be is shown in the Debate of the Carpenter’s 
Tools. A mutiny arises in the shop when half the tools declare 
their master to be too shiftless and unsteady to deserve their support. 
The other tools, however, although they cannot deny that their 
master 

loves gode ale so wele 

That he berfore his hod wyll selle, 

Fore some dey he wyll vii? drinke, (75—77) 


are still true to his interests. This simple dramatic complication 
is thereupon carried by the poet to a distinct climax when, after 
the “crow,” the “pleyne,” and the “squyre” have decided to seek 
a better master, the carpenter’s wife breaks in, with curses on the 
priest who bound her “ prentys,” 


And i myght, so wold 1. (266) 


A fuller knowledge as to the minstrels’ methods of reciting these 
popular pieces might possibly disclose a connection between the 
debate and the drama in matters other than form. There is slight 
evidence here and there in contemporary records that some minstrels 
used gestures, facial masks, and, wherever ecclesiastical law was not 
rigorously enforced, clerical robes to aid them in impersonating the 
participants in the debates.!. There is also no reason for rejecting 
as impossible the assumption that sometimes two or more minstrels 
carried on the debate. Jantzen, moreover, calls attention to several 
early German plays that are simply slight modifications of debates, 
and-I shall point out bits of similar literature embedded in English 
morality plays.2. But traces of such direct borrowing are rarely 
found; for the substance of the typical debate was too trivial to 
serve the serious didactic purpose of the drama, and the larger part 
of the repertoire of the minstrels has been lost. Nevertheless, since 
these same minstrels were also agents in spreading the seeds of 
the actual drama, one can realize the strength of the debate’s un- 
seen influence in charging the spirit of the twelfth and thirteenth 
centuries with dramatic instinct. 

In this same general way the debate contributed to the rise of the 
morality plays. It had always shown a capacity for personification. 
The déyos dixacog and Aoyos &dixos of Aristophanes’ Clouds are embodi- 
ments of moral abstractions like those which acted on the medieval 





1 Chambers, 1. 81—83. 
2 Jantzen, 92—95. See below 346, 354. 
3 Tbid., 22; Herford, 22. 


The English Moral Plays 345 


stage. These personifications sometimes leave their trivialities in order 
to debate themes strikingly similar to the subjects of the moralities. 
The Synagogue and the Church, for example, in one Old French 
poem, and the Jew and the Christian in another almost identical 
piece, after a few rude personalities, argue seriously on the proper 
interpretation of [saiah’s prophecy and on the significance of Christ’s 
Passion.! In the latter debate the Jew is converted to the true 
faith. If these poems suggest comparison with those plays which, 
with a more or less liberal admixture of abuse, conveyed instruc- 
tion in points of doctrine, often with immediate good results, the 
dull little piece, Warguet Convertie, offers resemblance to some of 
the more purely ethical sacred plays which deal with the contrast 
between the unlicensed desires of youth and the experience and 
premonitions of age. The young woman who at first taunts an old 
man for his physical weakness, is finally brought by his warnings 
to see her wrong-doing and repent. Finally, to offer but one more 
example, the Debate of the Body and the Soul, in its simple yet 
noble piety, would have given inspiration to the best of the morality 
plays. In general, the religious debate and the moral play enforce 
the same doctrine, the same warnings, and the same faith.” 

This correspondence, however, in spirit and subject-matter between 
certain debates and the typical moral play does not indicate that 
one was derived from the other, for the same correspondence marks 
all phases of medieval religious feeling. For instance, the last lines 
of The Body and the Soul, the closing scenes of many moralities, 
the carvings on the portals of the cathedrals, all tell the same 
story of the fate of the damned. Giving direct expression, as they 
do, to the teachings of the church, they naturally are in agreement. 
This is all that can be postulated as to the connection between the 
religious debate and the moral play: as the debate in general, 
apart from the few instances of direct influence now known, encouraged 
the use of the dramatic form, so the debate on sacred subjects must 
have done something to spread the lessons of the church, and thus 
to supplement and strengthen the teachings of the moral plays. But 
this indirect support was hardly necessary, so familiar were the 
authors of the plays with their proper subject-matter, and at most 
the debate’s influence on this branch of the drama was slight. 

The influence of John Heywood, however, established a clearly 
marked cross-influence between the debate and the less serious 





‘See Bibliography, and Ast. Lrtt., 23. 216-17. 
* For the controversial debate of the sixteenth century see chap. 6. 


346 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


moralities of the sixteenth century. His interludes, Witty and Witless 
and Of Gentleness and Nobility, which are only dramatized dialogues, 
were not too remote from the allegorical plays to exert upon them 
an influence. In the Play of Love, one of the characters takes the 
familiar part of the vice, and the contention carried on by The 
Lover Loved, The Lover not Loved, The Woman Beloved not 
Loving, and Neither Loving nor Loved, was doubtless imitated by 
the author of A// for Money in the strife among Learning without 
Money, Learning with Money, Money without Learning, and Neither 
Money nor Learning. Other more significant specimens, though, of 
the debate are to be found in these plays. The two characters 
Wealth and Health, in the play that bears their names, carry on a 
perfectly obvious dispute in which one belittles the other and praises 
himself, and then come to an agreement in time to scoff at the 
pretensions of Liberty, who would uphold his own title to prece- 
dence. Formal judges are sometimes appointed by the disputants. 
In Magnificence, Liberty debates with Felicity to prove that he 
should not be subject, as Felicity has maintained, to external control, 
and Measure, who has been appointed judge, decides against his 
claims.!. In several plays it is the vice who starts the dispute, and 
acts as arbiter. Contempt, the vice of The Coblers Prophecie, brings 
the three representatives of the social orders, Landed Gentry, Courtier, 
and Scholar, into argument; in Like Will to Like, Nicholas New- 
fangle hears Tom Tosspot and Ralph Roister debate their claim to 
the title, “the verier knave.”2 But even these formal debates play 
no essential part in the plays. For this reason the dispute in King 
Darius is of greater importance. Told to name and defend what 
they regard as the strongest influence upon man, one disputant 
suggests and upholds wine, a second, the king, and the third, woman. 
The last contestant is awarded the decision because he has spoken 
without flattery or deceit--a moral ending of the incident which 
Equity and Charity carry further in a final admonition and a 
religious song. But even here, where the debate is fused with the 
didactic lesson, it cannot be said to influence largely the action of 
the play. 

Of the religious motifs that were tributary to the main current 
of the allegorical drama, the least important and the most remote 
from the theme of the Psychomachia is the legend of Antichrist. 
The legend, to be sure, foretells a great world-struggle with 
Antichrist, the incarnation of all the vices. But it is because the 





1 24-162. 2 317-26. 


The English Moral Plays 347 


most complete dramatization of the story is also the earliest play 
in which allegory is used, that it deserves consideration here.' 

The origin of the legend of Antichrist is hidden in remotest an- 
tiquity. It certainly was not, as its name may seem to indicate, an 
outgrowth of Christian eschatological speculation; for at the hands 
of Jewish theologians it had received full development before the 
beginning of the Christian era.2. Nor may one suppose that the 
legend is no older than the writings of the Old Testament; for, 
hypothetical as are some of the theories of Gunkel and Bousset, 
they come little short of proving that it is only an anthropomorphic 
version of the old Babylonian myth, the story, transformed, of the 
dragon who waged war on the gods in heaven.’ It would be 
futile, however, in this connection to follow in detail these ex- 
cursions into Oriental folk-lore; the Christian interpretation of the 
legend grew from certain prophetic writings of the Old Testament, 
and from certain incidents in the history of the Jewish people.* It 
is enough, therefore, for a student of medieval religious teaching to 
know the belief regarding Antichrist that prevailed among the later 
Jews and early Christians. 

The earliest versions of the legend in the Bible represent Anti- 
christ not as a single personality, human or superhuman, but as 
a power for evil lodged in a hostile rival nation. By these heathen 
foes the chosen people, for their faithlessness toward God, are as- 
sailed and oppressed until God himself sends relief. “It shall come 
to pass at the same time when Gog shall come against the land of 
Israel, saith the Lord God, that my fury shall come up in my face. 
... Surely in that day there shall be a great shaking in the land of 
Israel.”® Such is Ezekiel’s conception. It was soon transformed in 
certain essential respects by the subjection of the Jews to the rig- 
orous persecutions of Antiochus IV. The pagan races were then 
no longer depicted as instruments of vengeance in the hands of 
Israel’s angry God; they were made to appear as a power for 





1 There were other dramas on Antichrist, not allegorical. A play on 
Antichrist in the Chester cycle was assigned to the dyers. Another 
English miracle-play on the subject has been printed by Collier (see 
bibliography). I have read, also, a German play of the fifteenth cen- 
tury, Des Entkrist Vasnacht. 

2 Jewtsh Encyclopedia. 3’ Bousset-Keane, 13, xi—xxvi. 

* Realencyklopedie, from which I adopt the threefold division of the 
history of the legend. 

5 Ezekiel, 38. 18, 19.. See the whole of chaps. 38, 39. 

® See Encycl. Brit. for details. Date, 2e¢ century B. C. 


348 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


wickedness opposed to the purposes of God. In this spirit Daniel 
foretold the coming of that “fourth kingdom,” the kingdom of 
Antiochus, that should “devour the whole earth,” and the might 
of the Romans, by which the righteous should “fall by the sword, 
and by flame, by captivity, and by spoil. Thus the legend was 
modified by the hardships and humiliations that the Jewish nation 
experienced. But Daniel, like Ezekiel, still expected the oppression 
of Antichristian might to come, not from a single Satanic individual, 
but from some neighboring heathen kingdom or kingdoms. 

This the first stage in the Biblical treatment of the prophecy was 
greatly modified as the Jewish people were taught to await the 
advent of a personal Messiah. For if God, instead of coming in 
person to relieve them, was to send his son as Saviour, then nat- 
urally Satan would be expected to delegate his powers to a lieutenant 
in all respects the counterpart of the Messiah.2 Consequently, if 
the Messiah was conceived as a victorious king, an Antichrist was 
foreseen who should assail Israel in armed battle. When, however, 
the prophetic, law-giving character of the Messiah was emphasized, 
the popular conception of Antichrist underwent a corresponding 
change. Moses and Balaam, the false prophet, became then the 
types of Christ and Antichrist. And when the Jews finally ex- 
pected not simply a king or a prophet, but a heavenly being, then 
Antichrist became to them an emanation of the Devil.2 Such an 
understanding of the nature of Antichrist was made easy by the 
prominence given in the prophecies to Gog and Antiochus as 
leaders of heathen foes; it was rendered inevitable by the faith in 
a personal Messiah. 

This belief, that the world immediately before the second com- 
ing of Christ was to be dominated by the terrible will of an Anti- 
christ, is carried by the writers of the New Testament through its 
third and final stage. The most characteristic feature of the second, 
to be sure, was retained by the author of the Apocalypse, who 
predicted that Antichrist would come in the form of Nero, or some 
one Neronic emperor, and by Paul, who, whether or not with any 
historical personage in mind, thought always in the singular of “the 
man of sin.” But even here the influence of Christianity left its 
impress in an intensifying of the antithesis between the Messiah and 
his great opponent. In other respects the New Testament made 





1 Daniel, 7. 23; 11. 33. Also chap. 8. 
2 Realencyklopedie. 3 Schneckenburger, 408-11. 
4 Realencyklopedie. 


The Enghsh Moral Flays 349 


more important alterations in the story. Both Christ and his fol- 
lowers gave up the idea that the evil power was to come from 
some remote land, in order to impress upon their disciples the im- 
manence of the evil principle in their very midst. It was also 
natural that, as the teaching of Christ dissociated the interests of 
the kingdom of God from those of the Jewish theocracy, the 
tradition should lose much, if not all, of its political significance, 
and assume a purely spiritual import. Therefore, although Christ 
grounded his warning of coming woe on the political prophecy of 
Daniel, the Antichrist that he foretold was to be no foreign king, 
destined to humiliate and overthrow the Jewish theocracy, but 
a false prophet sprung from the Jews themselves, and not one, but 
many.! For, as the tradition was thus spiritualized, the Antichrist 
again lost his personal identity, making himself felt, however, at 
this time not vaguely in some foreign enemy, but intimately in all 
Jews who gave themselves to evil. The Johannine epistle, in which 
the name Antichrist is first used, plainly states that all who deny 
the Father or the Son become themselves Antichrist.2 Thus John 
gave his authority to a distinctly new conception of the Antichrist, 
and, as Paul was the last great Biblical exponent of the older idea 
of a single Antichrist, John became the virtual founder of another 
school of thought. But both these great Christian leaders were at 
one in emphasizing, as earlier thinkers had not done, the moral and 
ethical meaning of the legend—the opposition of sin to holiness. 
These two understandings of the nature of Antichrist were carried 
on in the teaching of the medieval church. Origen, among the 
Fathers the most influential follower of the Johannine exposition, 
was by no means alone. But in the western church the more 
concrete understanding of the Satanic power exerted the greater 
influence, though what of the legend’s political significance was 
retained was entirely changed. Only the Jews, through their un- 
ending hatred of Rome, preserved the tradition that Antichrist was 
to spring from that empire. The Christians, on the contrary, after 
the conversion of Constantine, forgot entirely the historical application 
of the visions of the Apocalypse, following, as Bousset suggests, an 
older version of the legend that antedated Rome’s persecutions of 
the new religion, and looking for the coming of Antichrist to the 





1 See Matt. 24. 15-31. Here and elsewhere the New Testament is 
said to preserve the tradition of a non-political, purely eschatological, 
Antichrist (Bousset, 182-88). 

2 John 2. 22, 4. 3. 

3 See quotations in /Jew7sh Encyclopedia. 


350 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


Jewish people.1 He was to be born in the city of Babylon of a 
Satanic woman of the tribe of Dan. In his thirtieth year he would 
go to Jerusalem, where he would rebuild the temple and proclaim 
himself king. Through gifts, or force, or miracles, he would compel 
the whole world to acknowledge him the Christ. But after three 
and one half years of this rule, the angel Michael would be sent 
by God to slay the impostor, and to usher in the short period of 
peace that would precede the end of the world. 

It was of course the concrete, rather than the psychological, 
interpretation of the prophecy, that proved most suitable for art.? 
Of the several dramatic versions of the story, only the twelfth- 
century Ludus de Antichristo, the earliest play in which allegorical 
characters appear, need be considered. Being based on the treatise 
of Adso, it embraces all the incidents mentioned above, but shows 
in its political signification modifications due to the revival of the 
western empire.’ This historical bearing of the plot has been clearly 
analyzed by Creizenach,* and it remains to point out only the re- 
spects in which the play seems a forerunner of the morality. 

In the Ludus de Antichristo there are seven strictly religious or 
ethical personifications, Mercy and Justice, Hypocrisy and Heresy, 
Heathenism, Synagogue, and Church, and in addition one or two 
historical personifications, such as Babylon. In word and deed they 
resemble the similar characters of the moralities. Notice in the first 
place that the religious teaching of the play is presented by these 
abstractions as though such matter were perfectly suited for the 
drama. The play opens with this characteristic combination of dra- 
matic action and moral instruction. Heathenism and Babylon enter 
singing, but their theme is a strictly argumentative defense of poly- 
theism. To believe in one God is to suppose foolishly that from 
a single source emanate all those widely different manifestations 
of divine power that man experiences. Gifts as diverse as the 
blessings of peace and the horrors of war force one in all reason 
to recognize deities of unlike will and power. In the same fashion, 
Synagogue and her party of Jews express in song their faith in 
one God, but their distrust and detestation of the self-professed 
Saviour of men who could not save himself. And so also Holy 
Church, who appears as a queen in armor, attended by Mercy with 


1 Bousset-Keane, 128-30, 184-87. Wadstein, 125-36, gives a good 
review of the church’s teaching. 

2 Cf. the painting of Signorelli at Orvieto. 

3 Bousset-Keane, 131, and also 47—50. 

al S1—S6- 





The English Moral Plays 351 


the cup of oil, and by Justice with sword and scales, sings a song, 
indicated in the text simply by the words, “alto consilio,” which, 
from her attendants’ response, “ This is the faith that gives life and 
overpowers death; those who believe it are not damned,” must be 
a recognition of the Trinity. Such attempts to convey abstract 
truth on the stage are characteristic of the morality plays. 

Equally characteristic of the moralities are the parts assigned to 
the personifications in the development of the plot. Hypocrisy 
undertakes to seduce laymen, and Heresy to mislead the clergy. 
With them is associated the group of Hypocrites, who represent 
half allegorically a type. On the other hand, at the end of the 
play Holy Church receives the mortals who have been rescued by 
the two prophets from their subjection to Antichrist, and brought 
back to the true faith. On either side, these are the parts soon to 
be conventionalized in the morality play. Had the legend been 
more often handled in this way by the dramatists, it would rank 
as one of the more important influences upon the allegorical drama ; 
as it is, it may be regarded as a slight, but independent, contributory 
influence. 

The other religious allegories that were incorporated into the 
morality plays, usually in dependence upon the theme of the Psycho- 
machia, may be handled in chronological sequence. The first is the 
motif of the Dance of Death, which was so widely used in the 
literature and art of medieval Europe. The coming of Death to 
summon to judgment King and Bishop, Courtier and Scholar, 
Merchant and Peasant, was painted on the walls and windows of 
churches, as at Liibec and Salisbury, on the walls of graveyards, 
as in the Dominican convent at Basle, in illuminated service-books, 
and in Switzerland even on bridges and the facades of private 
houses. The earliest known treatment of the Dance of Death is a 
short Latin poem of the early fourteenth century, in which re- 
presentatives of the different orders of society, in due order, utter 
complaints on death and go to suffer the ordeal. Death itself does 
not appear, yet the poem reminds one of the medieval dramas, like 
the Prophet Play, whose actors come upon the stage one by one, 
speak their parts, and disappear.1 It is thought that the literary 
treatment of the theme had its origin in the tableaux vivants that 
were so popular during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries in 
France and Flanders.2. The earliest extant texts, it seems, enable 





1 Male?, 390-91. Male’s whole discussion of the Dance of Death should 
be read as the latest treatment of the subject. 
2 Seelmann, 11-21; Creizenach, 1. 461—62. 


352 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


the scholar to postulate a French version of the legend dramatic 
in form. In these texts, Death gives his summons in the first line, 
and receives the answer of his victim in an eight-line stanza. To 
this Death replies in the first seven lines of the next stanza before 
turning in the eighth to the second victim. By this arrangement 
there is provided but a single figure for Death, instead of one for 
every scene as in the pictorial representations of the allegory, and 
this one figure was the moving force and the center of a bit of 
truly dramatic action. From this comes the deduction that the 
earliest Dance of Death was a dumb show or tableau accompanied 
by simple words of warning. But, according to Male, this drama 
had its roots in medieval homiletics. He shows that several early 
mural representations of the Dance of Death depict first, before 
Death is painted, a preacher as he addresses a group of worship- 
pers, and then Adam and Eve as they eat the forbidden fruit. Male 
concludes that the drama had its origin in a sermon on death which 
the preacher illustrated by simple acting.’ If so, another line of 
connection between the stage and the pulpit has been found. 

Appreciating the forcefulness of these earliest mimetic representa- 
tions of the Dance of Death, especially as a warning of the sequel of 
an ill-spent life, the authors of the moralities gave it their attention. 
“Here begynneth a treatyse how the hye fader of heuen sendeth 
dethe to somon euery creature to come and gyue a counte of theyr 
lyues in this worlde and is in maner of a morall playe,” reads the 
title of our finest sacred play. Upon the closing scenes of man’s 
earthly life the author focuses attention. The homiletic exposition 
of the sacraments and of confession is reduced to a minimum, and 
the early part of Everyman’s life of pleasure is given only by sug- 
gestion. With a sense of unity rare at that time, the play dwells 
on its one theme—death. 

The grim messenger sees his victim: 


Lo, yonder I see Everyman walking : 

Full little he thinketh on my coming: 

His mind is on fleshly lusts and his treasure; 

And great pain it shall cause him to endure 

Before the Lord, heaven’s King. (95) 


In vain the victim seeks to escape, or to find a companion: 


Oh, to whom shall I make my moan, 
For to go with me in that heavy journey ? 


1 391-93. 





The English Moral Plays 353 


First Fellowship he said he would with me gone; 
His words were very pleasant and gay, 

But afterward he left me alone. 

Then spake I to my kinsmen all in despair, 

And also they gave me words fair, 

They lacked no fair speaking ; 

But all forsake me in the ending. 

Then went I to my Goods that I loved best, 

In hope to have found comfort; but there had least: 
For my Goods sharply did me tell, 

That he bringeth many in hell. (107—8) 


It is his fortune, at this crisis, to meet Knowledge, Confession, and 
other virtues who prepare him for his end. As he dies, an ‘“‘ Angel 
is heard speaking”: 


Now thy soul is taken thy body fro, 
Thy reckoning is crystal clear; 
Now shalt thou into the heavenly sphere. (421) 


Yet even Everyman, confined as it is to this one situation, is not 
without dependence on the theme of conflict. To depict the sequel 
of a misspent life, a losing struggle with the vices, the author has 
selected from a variety of possible characters, good and bad, that 
this allegory usually embraced, the wild gallant whose career best 
served as warning. Turn from virtue to vice, as Everyman did, and 
only a repentance like his, a turning again to the virtues as in the 
typical combat-play, can save you, is the moral of the piece. 

I would not press too insistently for this play the dependence on 
the Psychomachia that is more evident in the earliest English 
morality of which any part remains. In The Pride of Life it is the 
King who is seized by Death after a life of wilful disregard of God’s 
law. Conscious of his power, and trusting in his two knights, Might 
and Health, he has disregarded Death. When the queen has re- 
minded him that all men must die, and that every one, therefore, 
should 

loue god & holy chirche 

& haue of him som eye [reverence], (187—88) 
the King but boasts more proudly of his power. At the request of 
the queen, the bishop then reproaches him, warning him that the 
world has turned to evil, and that the fear of God has been lost 
in falsehood, treachery, and oppression. But hell awaits the wrong- 
doers, he adds, where, without any chance for bail or a stay of pro- 
ceedings, as in earthly courts, unending woe is prepared for kings 


354 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


as well as common people. Even this warning is wasted, for the 
king calls the bishop a babbler, and urges him to learn to preach 
better. Here the text breaks off; but the prologue tells how Death, 
after first sending a messenger, wrestles with the king, and overthrows 
him, and gives his soul to the devils. 

The vivid conception of the coming of Death with his summons 
to judgment, gave rise to another closely allied allegorical motif, 
the Debate between the Body and the Soul. The popularity of this 
theme, however, in the lyric poetry of Europe did not gain for it 
any important place in the drama.?_ In only two English moral 
plays are traces of it found. Toward the close of The Pride of Life, 
the Virgin begs Christ to allow the King’s soul to dispute with his 
body, and thereby gets a reconsideration of his sentence, and his 
eventual release from the hands of the devil. Of the incident, un- 
fortunately, there remains only the outline in the prologue. Another 
trace of the same theme is found in The Castle of Perseverance, 
when Soul crawls “from beneath the bed under the Castle,” and 
reproaches Body for his sins. 


body! bou dedyst brew a byttyr bale, 

to bi lustys whanne gannest loute ; 

pi sely sowle schal ben a-kale ; 

I beye pi dedys with rewly rowte; 

& al it is for gyle. 

euere pou hast be coueytous, 

falsly to getyn londe & hows; 

to me pou hast brokyn a byttyr jows; 

so welaway be whyle! (3013—21) 


The debate in both plays follows the mission of Death, and with it 
covers one Crisis in the spiritual life of man. 

But no one of these three important English plays that represent 
allegorically the coming of death closes the story of man’s life with 
that point. As that incident looks back, implicitly at least, to the 
record of a misspent life, a losing struggle with the vices, so in 
Christian dramaturgy it could not but look forward to the possi- 
bility of salvation. Another episode, therefore, was necessary to give 
the last stage of the pilgrim’s progress. For this, the dramatists 





1 The theme is similarly treated in Zhe Castle of Perseverance. See 
above, 318. Death appears in the French morality, Les Blasphémateurs, 
(Repertoire, 42), and in the Hegge play, Zhe Slaughter of the Innocents. 
For later appearances of Death on the stage see Langlois, 1. 291-307. 

2 See above, 345. 


The English Moral Plays 355 


found at hand in ecclesiastical literature of all sorts a fully devel- 
oped allegory based upon the verse, “ Mercy and truth are met to- 
gether; righteousness and peace have kissed each other.” This 
naturally dramatic theme became the third part of the moral trilogy. 

To trace the development of this allegory from the beginning, 
the student must go to the old rabbinical exegesis of the book of 
Genesis known as the Bereshith Rabbah, which was compiled and 
edited in approximately its present form as early as the sixth or 
eighth century.2. According to the commentary, God, before the 
creation, sought counsel of his angels. In the discussion that ensued 
some favored the creation, others opposed it. ‘Mercy and truth 
thrust at one another. Justice and peace fought together.” Mercy 
said, “ Create him, because he will practice mercy.” Truth objected, 
“for he will be full of lies.” Justice and Peace were likewise of 
opposite views. God at last threw Truth to the earth (Daniel 8. 12); 
and the angels who begged that she be allowed to rise, finally left 
the decision to his judgment. 

The story of the dispute in heaven passed from the Midrash into 
Christian literature, where it was transferred in point of time from 
the creation to the more suitable period of redemption. In that 
connection, Hugo of St. Victor introduced the incident in his com- 
mentary on the Psalms.* Shortly after, Bernard retold the story in 
more detailed and dramatic fashion in the sermon on the Annunciation 
already cited as an example of homiletic dialogue.’ Man, the sermon 
runs, was originally endowed with four virtues: mercy to guard 
him, truth to teach him, justice to rule him, and peace to cherish 
him. But, faring like the man who fell among thieves on his way 
to Jericho, he lost justice when he listened to the temptations of 
the serpent, mercy when he burned with carnal desires, truth when 
he yielded to them, and peace when he ‘gave himself thus to 
wickedness. But Mercy and Peace, opening the dialogue, beg God 
to pardon the sinner, and both parties in the dispute are summoned 
before the judgment seat. Mercy opens the case in court with her 
plea, and Truth answers, insisting that God’s laws be carried out. 
At this point, Christ, under the name of Solomon, the type of 
wisdom, is summoned to sit as judge, and Truth continues her 
argument that the granting of Mercy’s request would destroy the 


es. ob) 10. 

* Traver, 7-8, 13-14. Jewish Encyclopedia, s. v. Midrash, and Bereshith 
Rabbah. 

S Pair. Lat), 177. 621—25. 

* Guvres Completes, 3. 340-48. See above, 307. 

Trans. Conn: Acap., Vol. XIV. 24 Marcu, 1910. 








356 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


authority of God. Peace pleads for a reconciliation. Then the 
judge renders his decision, writing on the ground, “Haec dicit, 
‘Perii, si Adam non moriatur’; et haec dicit, ‘ Perii nisi misericordiam 
consequatur.’ Fiat mors bona et habet utraque quod petit.” The 
supporters of both policies are surprised; how can the sinner die 
and at the same time enjoy mercy? The judge accordingly explains 
that it can come about only by the voluntary death of some inno- 
cent man. But Truth among all the mortals on earth can find no 
innccent person, while Mercy in heaven can find no one with enough 
love for man to make the sacrifice. Peace then declares that only 
God himself can do it, and the plan of redemption is decreed. 

It would be beyond the scope of this book to trace the progress 
of Bernard’s dramatic sermon through medieval religious literature. 
Bonaventura in the Weditationes, Robert Grosseteste in the Chasteau 
ad’ Amour, the author of the Cursor Mundi, and many other churchmen 
in homily, treatise, and poem, copied it either at first hand or in- 
directly. It descended, therefore, as a heritage to the sacred drama.! 

Of the ten French plays which contain the dispute, the most 
complete is Arnould Gréban’s Mystere de la Passion. After a 
preface narrating the creation, the fall of Lucifer, and the sin of 
Adam, the long play opens with a scene in Limbo, where Adam 
and Eve in company with the prophets wait with lamentation and 
entreaty for the coming of the Son of God. Then the scene 
changes to Paradise, where Mercy, Truth, Justice, and Peace are 
met to determine the fate of man. Their argument hinges mainly 
on the relative degrees of culpability of Lucifer and of Adam. All 
agree that Lucifer’s crime is unpardonable; but Mercy shows that 
man sinned not through lust of power, as did Satan, but in ignorant 
craving for knowledge. Justice, however, declares that both Adam 
and Lucifer rebelled against God’s power. In this opinion Truth, 
‘a woman very wise and prudent,” concurs. But Mercy, encouraged 
by God's reminder of his grace, insists that man’s inherent nobility, 
and his condition of ignorance and weakness at the time of the 
fall, entitle him to a lenity that Lucifer can not claim. The six 
grounds on which she bases the distinction convince Justice and 
Truth that man’s punishment should not be eternal; but what 
should it be? On this point Mercy defers to the deeper wisdom 





1 In her full history of the allegory, Miss Traver discusses ten French 
plays: Mercadé’s, Adystére de la Passion, Gréban’s Passion, Viel Testament, 
Le Mistére de la Conception, the Valenciennes Passion, La Rouen Jncar- 
nation, La Vengeance Nostre Seigneur, L’ Amour Divin, La Moralité de Na- 
ture, and Le Laz d’Amour Divin. See Traver, 70—124. 


The English Moral Plays 357 


of Sapience, who says that man can be redeemed only by his 
Creator, and that of the members of the Godhead the Son is the 
fittest for the task.! Here the dispute ends. But in a poem of 
such vast dimensions as Gréban’s, this, the central incident, as it is 
represented, of human history, could not be at this point finally 
dropped. As Christ prays in the garden that the cup may be 
taken from him, God begs the four virtues to reopen the case and 
find some milder form of atonement. Here, though, Justice remains 
obdurate to Mercy’s entreaties, and the original verdict is carried 
to its fulfillment—the Passion. Finally, after the Resurrection and 
the Ascension, God summons the sisters for the last time, reviews 
the cause of the dispute, and gets their admission that full recompense 
has been rendered by the Son.? 

Thus the miracle-plays and the Passion plays introduced the al- 
legory as the forerunner of the redemption. It formed the basis, 
for example, for the pageant of Zhe Salutation and Conception in 
the so-called Coventry cycle. There Contemplacio calls upon God to 
end speedily for prophet and patriarch the long imprisonment in 
hell. But against the Father’s inclination to forgive, Truth brings ob- 
jection, and the. debate results. Peace effects a reconciliation, and 
Filius, at her suggestion, offers himself as the required sacrifice.? 

The debate was adopted also by the authors of the English moral 
plays, but in a different manner. The miracle-plays accepted the 
incident as an historical fact, the precursor of the central point in 
the world’s history. The homilists of the moralities, on the con- 
trary, who to an erring humanity held out the hope of salvation, 
brought the theme forward from its historical setting in the past 
to the present, in order to exhibit it in its eternal significance. 
They regarded it not as a single occurrence, but as the ever 
recurring ordeal that decides the destiny of every mortal man. In 
this way the English moral play suited the allegory to its purpose. 

The dispute between Mercy, Truth, Righteousness, and Peace 
appears in three extant English moral plays, but only once in its 
true form. FRespublica removes it from its true setting, and strips it 
of its inherent beauty, to render it serviceable in a political drama 
whose interests were largely secular. In response to Respublica’s 
prayers for help against her civil enemies, Mercy is sent to earth 





1741-3378. > 18812 ff. and 34088 ff. 
* Reprinted by Manly, in part by Pollard, and also in the edition of 
the cycle. 


*'The three French moralities, which I have not seen, treat it as a 
separate incident. 


358 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


to bring relief. The goddess calls her sister, Truth, to her aid, 
for the two are here to meet in full accord rather than in strife, 
and the evil counselors of the queen, who have been ravaging the 
kingdom, are exposed. Justice and Peace are then summoned, the 
one to defend and the other to preserve order, and the four op- 
pressors, Avarice, Adulation, Insolence, and Oppression, are sentenced 
to punishment.1 In a second play, Mankind, the allegory is in- 
directly alluded to by Mercy, who assures Mankind that Justice will 
be abrogated at his trial, and Truth checked in his “streyt argu- 
ment,” and that her counsel will prevail? In the portion of The 
Pride of Life now lost, fuller justice was doubtless done the theme ; 
but only in The Castle of Perseverance is it given in full. In that 
typical morality the triumph of Mercy and Peace, and the release 
of man’s soul from the power of the Devil, close the story of man’s 
career. 

Through three great crises, then, the complete English moral 
play, the so-called full-scope morality, carried the story of man’s 
life and destiny. The earliest crisis, which sprang from the al- 
legory of Prudentius and the early Fathers, formed the foundation 
for the type; without a moral struggle based on the doctrine of 
freedom of the will there was no true moral play. But the Middle 
Ages lived in faith of a future. So, to show the urgent need of 
warfare against carnal and spiritual vices, the sacred dramatists 
embodied concretely the sure approach of Death and the fruitless 
appeals of the soul; to give hope, though, even to the sinner, they 
displayed by means of this debate in heaven the clemency of God. 
In this dramatic trilogy the full account of human destiny was 
embraced; a dramatic narrative of real value in itself as an ad- 
monition, but a web also, as it were, into which might be woven 
the doctrinal teachings regarded as most essential for the common 
man. None of this matter, however, was original with the drama, 
or in any sense even new; it was the old, essential story that the 
church would restate. Yet beyond this familiar material the legit- 
imate moral play could not advance far. To dwell too fully on the 
nature of the temptation confronting man introduced a coarse 





‘ Act 5. See below, 370. We note a somewhat similar seculari- 
zation of the dispute in the Collogue Social de Paix, Justice, Miséricorde et 
Verite, which was written, if not played, in 1559 to celebrate the treaty 
framed by the kings of France and Spain. Peace complains to God that 
she is being oppressed on earth by Mars. God restores her to her rights. 
Justice, Merey, and Truth bring Peace word that Justice and Truth will 
again prevail. See Holl, 41—42. ? 832—35. 


The English Moral Plays 359 


realism that soon submerged the ethical purpose of the play. Even 
the story of the Dance of Death introduced among the abstractions 
real characters—the king, the queen, and the bishop, in our earliest 
play—which also would eventually lead to the disintegration of the 
type. Similar, too, was the trend of the other lines of development 
that will be discussed in the next chapter. For these reasons the 
moral play was destined to disappear in the freer spirit and broader 
knowledge of the Renaissance. But as long as men were moved 
by allegorical representation of human life, as long as they were 
satisfied with old religious truths slightly seasoned with the spice 
of realism, the theme of conflict, extended and diversified by these 
other contributory allegorical incidents, gave matter sufficient for 
a popular drama.} 


CuapreR VI.—Puays oF THE REFORMATION. 


But in the sixteenth century the Revival of Learning brought to 
England new interests that broadened the mental horizon, reawakened 
the artistic instinct in literature, and thereby challenged the ab- 
solute sway of religion in the world of thought. Henry was the 





1 The French drama admitted a wider range of allegory. The nar- 
rative of a pilgrimage along the way of life was given dramatic form in 
Bien-Avisé, Mal-Avisé, one of the most worthy of the French plays, and in 
other moralities. The theme was doubtless taken by the playwrights 
from Raoul de Houdan’s Songe d’Enfer and Voie de Paradis, poems of the 
late thirteenth century ; but its ultimate source, of course, is in strictly 
ecclesiastical literature and the New Testament. Lactantius, in the Divine 
Institutes (Bk. 6, chap. 3), compares the course of human life to the letter 
Y; for every youth comes to such a fork in his progress, where he must 
choose to follow either good counselors along the road to salvation or 
evil advisers along the way to hell. Later writers gave the lesson in 
allegory. A religious treatise of the thirteenth century, De Tribus Dietzs, 
marks out the road from Penitence to Paradise in three relays, or dzetae, 
Contrition, Confession, and Satisfaction, in connection with the story of 
the Prodigal Son (cf. Dante, Pur. 9. 94 ff. and Peter Lombard, Senz. 4. 16 A.). 
If the treatise was originally a sermon, as Lecoy de la Marche conjectures 
(97), we may postulate another direct influence of the pulpit upon the 
stage. It is strange that this strictly Biblical allegory was not used by 
the English dramatists. Other themes employed by the French play- 
wrights are not religious at all. Za Condamnation des Banquets is purely 
worldly, a tract of the dietarian ; Honneur des Dames is romantic, showing 
the influence of the Roman de la Rose (see Repertoire, 47,73). Such themes 
were not known on the English stage. 


360 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


patron of the New Learning as well as the Defender of the Faith. 
The change could not but be reflected in the moral play—for the 
first time with any degree of force in Skelton’s long play, Magnif- 
wcence. The author was himself a priest, familiar with the trad- 
itions and institutions of the church; but he was also an educator 
and /itterateur who lived only a few years before the full glory of 
the early Renaissance in England. Skelton’s play, therefore, combines 
the old and the new. It retains the form of the typical morality, 
but in content and style gives evidence of the disintegration of the 
religious drama in the new currents of thought.’ 

Skelton in this play abandoned the role of theologian to take 
up that of moral adviser; the lesson he teaches is not holiness, but 
prudence; the end he seeks is not salvation in the world to come, 
but happiness and prosperity in this. The story tells how King 
Magnificence is persuaded to cashier Measure for a new adviser, Lib- 
erty, and to follow the evil counsel of four base courtiers, Coun- 
terfeit Countenance, Crafty Conveyance, Cloaked Collusion, and 
Courtly Abusion. By them the resources of the country are impaired, 
and the honor of the king tarnished. Finally, however, the king is 
reclaimed by four virtues, Good Hope, Redress, Circumspection, and 
Perseverance. For the material of this ethical-political play Skelton 
had to look away from the writings of churchmen to those of 
philosophers and satirists. His sources were twofold—the Ethics of 
Aristotle and the Narrenschiff of Brandt. The former he used freely, 
as it was modified in the English versions of the pseudo-Aristotelian 
Secreta Secretorum, in Occleve’s Regement of Prynces, or perhaps 
in Skelton’s own Speculum Principis. Striking peculiarities of the 
play are directly traceable, as Ramsay has shown, to these royal 
handbooks. Skelton’s second source, the Warrenschiff, had already 
served as model for his Bowge of Court, and he turns to it again 
in those passages of the play that exhibit the abuses of the court. 
He found in his source even the names of the four courtiers. But 
more important still, as Herford has shown, he learned from Brandt 
to substitute for the allegorical character types of real men and 
women. Magnificence, then, marks the beginning of the break-up 
of the allegorical drama.? 

But the drama was not yet to be wholly lost to religion; before 
its vogue was outlived new need for its service arose. The church 





1 The best study of this play is that of Ramsay, who has edited it 
for the E.E.T.\S. His introduction contains also much matter on the 
general history of the plays. 

2 Ramsay, Introduction, Pt. 1, sect. 7. Herford, 350—52. 


The English Moral Plays 361 


universal, whose doctrines and exhortations it had long been the 
drama’s mission to popularize, was shattered by the great schism of 
the sixteenth century, and a long religious war was begun between 
Rome and the reformers. More than ever before, argument and 
invective entered into ecclesiastical literature. Naturally, the moral 
play was remodeled to meet the changed conditions. Where 
it had been before simply the support of religion in general and 
right living, it now became, without any radical diversion of purpose, 
a weapon used alike by both parties in the controversy. Despite 
the innovations of Skelton, therefore, the play remained a while 
longer the obedient servant of the church, and allegory on the 
stage was saved from disuse. 

The new tendency in its early stage is well exemplified by John 
Bale’s Three Laws. As in the miracle-plays, God himself appears ; 
but it is to establish at the beginning the authority of the three 
Laws, and to restore them, at the close, to their ordained spheres. 
To these ends the presence of God was at least felt in all true 
moralities. The other characters are strictly allegorical, and the 
action involves the familiar struggle between the good and the 
evil. Indeed, in this play three conflicts instead of one, in three 
separate episodes, are carried through. God has ordained the Law 
of Nature, the Law of Moses, and the Law of Christ as his emissaries 
on earth. But Infidelity corrupts the first through his children, 
Sodomy and Idolatry; the second, through Avarice and Ambition ; 
the third, through False Doctrine and Hypocrisy. In the action 
itself, none of the temptation and none of the fruits of sin are 
exhibited. The three Laws in due order state didactically their 
mission in the world, the Law of Moses, for example, expounding 
the Commandments; they are answered by the vices sent to tempt 
them, finally Infidelity announces their fall. Although the traditions 
of the morality have been thus altered, The Three Laws adheres 
in the main to the structural and didactic principles of the type. 
At the end, the powers of evil are overcome and punished by 
Vindicta Dei, and God restores the Laws to their original power. 

Bale, however, while keeping easily within the bounds of tra- 
dition, has used the morality for a new purpose—not primarily 
as a sermon on holiness, but as a weapon in religious contro- 
versy. His play is a coarse and bitter attack upon the Papacy. At 
the end, in reviewing the course of events. the author states that 
the Laws were corrupted respectively “by the Sodomites, Pharisees, 
and Papists most wicked.” The truth, however, is that his religious 
bigotry so got the better of his sense of historic truth that all the 


362 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


evil characters of the play are represented as children of the Roman 
church. Infidelity upholds the time when men never read the Bible 
or talked of Paul, and the corrupters of the Law of Moses, declaring 
that the clergy and the people must be kept in ignorance, frame 
a new, and supposedly Popish, creed. But Bale directs his attack 
not primarily against the “draffish ceremonies” of the Roman 
church, or the political opposition of Reginald Pole to the policies of 
the admired King Henry; with a coarse vituperation that has never 
been exceeded, he assails, without much concern for truth, the gross 
immorality of the Roman priests. This is the new mission that the 
old-time morality was now given to perform—the new wine poured 
into the old bottles. 

The moral play, however, as it continued its activity in religious 
controversy, could not long retain unmodified the traditions of the 
sacred drama. The Reformation was a broad movement which in- 
volved political and economic, as well as religious, matters; espe- 
cially in England, such questions as the disposition of church pro- 
perties, the reception of Papal legates, the very authority of the 
King, were made the points at issue. Hence the plays that under- 
took to support one’side or the other were forced to admit a con- 
sideration of secular things, where before abstractions had been 
supreme. Accordingly, the dramatists substituted for the indefinite 
scene and occasion of the older plays a more definite setting; they 
surveyed for criticism the policies of real men. In these ways the 
allegorical drama underwent secularization. 

Ramsay has expounded very consistently the historical significance 
of Skelton’s Magnificence. Magnificence is in general intended to 
represent the characteristics and tendencies of King Henry—generous, 
open-hearted, but susceptible to evil counsel. The six evil advisers 
who encourage him in his course to ruin embody the traits and 
policies of Wolsey, whose extravagance emptied the treasury and 
humbled England abroad. The saner characters represent the 
leaders of the old nobility, who stood in opposition to the upstart, 
and Circumspection is supposed to represent King Henry VII. The 
allegory is by no means manifest; but doubtless the audiences of 
the time saw readily the political drift of the plot.’ 

By a modification of the type somewhat similar to that already 
discussed, Bale made his King john half morality and half chron- 
icle history. Instead of localizing the plot in the England of his 
own time, as Skelton did under the cloak of allegory, Bale selected 





1 Vagnificence, Introduction, Pt. 1, sect. 9. 


The English Moral Plays 363 


as an example of the antithesis between good and evil the struggle 
of King John against the Papacy, exalting the ill-starred king, for 
the enemies he made, into the champion of right, and typifying in 
the Pope all the political and religious corruption of his own time. 
In harmony with this historical setting, real characters take part in 
the action, and the allegorical personages represent less moral than 
political concepts. Sedition, Dissimulation, Usurped Power, and 
Treason, are the emissaries of the Satanic pope, who corrupt Clergy, 
set Nobility against his sovereign, and weaken Civil Order and 
Commonalty. Against the wrongs suffered at the hands of Clergy 
and Nobility, the widow England protests, and wins from the King 
a promise of assistance, which only the influence of Sedition and 
Dissimulation over his rebellious nobles renders him impotent to 
fulfill. He is forced to see his subjects led further into crime, and 
in the end, opposed by Stephen Langton and the Papal legates, 
he is excommunicated for his resistance of evil, forced to abdicate, 
and finally poisoned. 

As an exponent of Puritan dogma the play, of course, could not 
remain true to its historical setting; Bale simply set back the schism 
of his own day into those troublous times, where he could find 
suitable types, without modifying at all the character of the Pro- 
testant revolt. John brands the church a “hepe of adders of Ante- 
christs generacyon,” and exposes boldly the evils that it breeds: 


Than for Englondes cawse I wyll be sumewhat playne. 

Yt is yow, Clargy, that hathe her in dysdayne: 

With yowr Latyne howrs, serymonyes, and popetly playes, 

In her more and more Gods holy worde decayes; 

And them to maynteyn, unresonable ys the spoyle 

Of her londs, her goods, and of her pore chylders toyle. 

(413-18) 

All this Dissimulation corroborates : 


To wynne the peple, I appoynt yche man his place: 

Sum to syng Latyn, and sum to ducke at grace; 

Sum to go mummyng, and sum to beare the crosse; 

Sum to stowpe downeward as ther heades ware stopt with mosse; 
Sum rede the epystle and gospell at hygh masse ; 

Sum syng at the lectorne with long eares lyke an asse. 


Of owr suttell dryftes many more poyntes are behynde; 
Yf I tolde you all, we shuld never have an ende. 
(697—720) 


364 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


It was such an organization to which Nobility and Civil Order 
resigned their independence, and by which poor Commonalty was 
rendered impotent. In attacking the evil, the bitter controversialist 
touches upon the political as well as the religious questions involved 
in England’s Reformation, defending the divinely appointed suprem- 
acy of kings as well as assailing the power of Rome. King John, 
then, illustrates the development of the morality during the course 
of the sixteenth century. Contrast the political personifications of 
the play with the stereotyped figures of the seven deadly sins; 
its historical background with the indefinite setting of its predecessors ; 
and the heightened reality of its action with the slow movement 
of the older play, and one sees at a glance the progress toward 
the real drama that the morality here made. Bale was the most 
original, as he was the most vigorous, of the Protestant dramatists 
of England.1 

The playwrights may have learned their first lessons in the al- 
legorical treatment of contemporary politics in the preparation of 
royal pageants. At a “disguising” at court during the visit of 
Charles V to London in 1523, an unruly horse, intended to typify 
the French king, was tamed by Amitie, in the interests of the 
alliance between Charles and Henry.? This, the earliest known ex- 
periment in the application of dramatic allegory to contemporary 
affairs, was soon followed by more serious essays. In 1527 the 
members of Gray’s Inn produced John Roo’s morality play, which 
represented Lord Governaunce as ruled by Dissipation and Negligence 
in a way that seemed to Wolsey unduly personal and disrespectful.* 

These distinctly political plays were soon followed by others that 
broached religious issues. In November, 1527, the master of St. 
Paul’s, John Ritwise, had his boys give before the French ambassador 
a Latin comedy, “the effect wherof was that ye pope was in 
captiuitie & the church brought vnder the foote, wherfore S. Peter 
appeared and put the Cardinal in authoritie to bryng the Pope to 
his libertie and to set vp the church againe”.t The piece has not 
been preserved; but the caste included, besides “the herretyke 
Lewtar” and “Lewtar’s wyfe, like a frowe of Spyers in Almayn,” 
and three Germans arrayed in notched clothes, such personifica- 
tions as Religion, Ecclesia, Veritas, Heresy, and False Interpreta- 





' A Protestant describes an interlude played in Cranmer’s house in 
1539 as “one of the best matiers that ever he sawe touching King John” 
(Chambers, 2. 221). The prologues of Bale’s miracle-plays are contro- 


versial. 
2 Chambers, 2. 219. Se hall, Cae 2 Halle (3a: 


The English Moral Plays 365 


tion! Another play was given the next year to represent the 
release of the Pope.? 

Even this scanty information concerning these lost Catholic plays 
shows that the English religious drama must perforce have come 
into close relationship with Continental influences, especially in 
Lutheran Germany. The influence that inspired the early moral 
plays was largely the teaching of the Catholic church—the church 
universal, whose literature knew no national bounds, and responded 
to no markedly national trend. The wave of Lutheran reform, 
however, shattered this unity, and the Protestant writers borrowed 
not.from one general source, but from one another. Hence, especially 
after Henry VIII’s change of policy had driven many reforming cler- 
gymen to Germany as exiles, the English drama was subject to 
national influences that it had never before felt to such a degree. 

In Germany, where the Lutheran leaders were humanists as well 
as reformers, the moral dramatists of the new school found a number 
of virile writers closely akin to them in spirit and methods. The 
medieval debate, as has been shown, being a literary exercise in 
which the thought occupied but an insignificant position, was quite 
remote from the proper field of the religious drama. But the 
German humanists of the sixteenth century found that the debate 
might be more than a literary pastime; that it could be made an 
effective weapon in their controversy with the old religious order. 
Erasmus and Hutten learned to handle the weapon most deftly and 
effectively ; but many others in the early sixteenth century gave to 
this medieval-classical form a new vigor that widened immensely 
its usefulness.® 

The polemical dialogue grew under such treatment to qualities 
really dramatic. Instead of introducing, as of old, antithetical per- 
sonifications to carry on a perfectly obvious disputation, a greater 
number of characters, representing real life as well as abstrac- 
tions, were used. ‘Not merely the ‘rich’ and: the ‘poor,’ the 
priest and knight, the ‘Lutheran’ and ‘Catholic,’ but peasants, 
scholars, nobles, monks, clerks, courtiers, beggars, fools, pedlars, 
innkeepers, weavers, tailors, Wurst-buben, women and children, young 
and old, pious and froward, pass across the stage.”* Inevitably the 
writers of dialogue sought more and more to give to these varied 
characters and realistic situations a dramatic value. 

The effectiveness of the polemical dialogue did not escape the 





‘ Creizenach, 2. 140; Chambers, 2. 219. 2 Chambers, 2. 220. 
3 Herford, chap. 2, “ Polemical Dialogues ”. “ Ibid. 28. 


366 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


notice of Tyndale and the other English exiles who, especially 
after Henry’s favor was in 1540 turned to persecution, sought refuge 
in Germany. Soon the critics of Henry’s reactionary policy were 
throwing their arguments into dialogue form. Such controversial 
pieces circulated without restriction during Edward’s reign, and 
exerted a wide influence until the Marian oppression checked their 
activity, and the progressive spirit of Elizabeth rendered them 
unnecessary. 

To a certain extent the Catholics used the dialogue to defend 
their church from its assailants; but not till late in the sixteenth 
century, and with only half-hearted zeal. More’s undramatic dia- 
logue in reply to Tyndale’s book on the mass was the one work to 
reach any degree of excellence. But the Protestants struck with 
vigor at the points most in controversy, both religious and politi- 
cal.. A priest opens one dialogue with a long lament for the death 
of Mass in Strassburg. His two servants discuss the death-scene, 
and wind up with a bitter attack on Wolsey and his party. Another 
dialogue between a Gentleman and a Husbandman gives a picture of 
the oppression each class suffered from the clergy. Finally, in 1548, 
William Turner, who had passed a long exile in Germany, issued 
his Endightment against Mother Messe.2 Two Protestants, Veryte 
and Knowledge, bring accusations before Wisdom that lead to the 
arrest of the sorceress, Mother Messe. She is brought before Judge 
God’s Word, where Knowledge presents the indictment, and, in 
spite of Covetous’ defense, obtains against her a verdict of exile. 

The breadth of this last-mentioned dialogue, its dramatic pos- 
sibilities, and its allegorical framework, naturally encouraged the 
use of the religious drama in the struggle. This incentive was then 
still further augmented by the actual dramas of controversy that 
Englishmen came to know on the Continent. The Neo-Latin drama 
that arose in Holland about 1530 sought to give to Biblical plays 
a Terentian structure, and at the same time to inject into the his- 
torical narrative a considerable amount of contemporary interest.* 
The Protestants eagerly made use of this rejuvenated and extended 
sacred play to further their cause. The best known drama of this 
type is Thomas Kirchmayer’s Pammachius, a Protestant adaptation 
of the old legend of Antichrist, in which the Pope is represented 
as the Satanic ruler whose sway is terminated by the triumph of 





1 Herford, 46—48. 
elbid.. (G5—66: 
3 Chambers, 2. 217. 


The English Moral Plays 367 


the Reformation. Similar plays were produced by other reformers 
in Germany, Holland, and England." 

These Neo-Latin plays from Holland and Germany were known 
to Englishmen, and some of the most important were put into 
English. Bale translated the Pammachius, and the play in some 
version was produced at Cambridge.? Palsgrave translated the 
Acolastus in 1540, and other translators and imitators, among them 
John Foxe, followed. The English never used the dialogue as 
freely as did the Germans, but all the evidence indicates that they 
handled the allegorical drama with vigor and freedom in the re- 
ligious and political turmoil of the Tudor reigns. 

These controversial religious plays in England kept in the main 
within the bounds of the old morality type. The medieval mind 
recognized no innate disparity between the allegorical and the real ; 
medieval literature and art placed both in conjunction.t Hence the 
historical characters of the Reformation could easily be introduced 
side by side with abstractions, and the actual events of the struggle 
mingled with the imaginary episodes of the moral conflict. We 
have already seen how one play, The Three Laws, held pretty 
close to the old model, and how another by Bale, King ohn, marked 
a decided advance toward historical tragedy; the story of the 
development may here be continued. 

The title of Woodes’ long and tedious play, The Conflict of Con- 
science, reminds the reader that the original mof#f of our morality 
was not altogether forgotten when it was diverted from ethical in- 
struction into the swirl of doctrinal controversy. The scene is laid 
in England just after the restoration of Catholicism, and Hypocrisy, 
Avarice, and Tyranny are out in search of reformers. They meet 
a clergyman with a Scottish dialect extremely suggestive of the 
schismatic; but he readily proves his orthodoxy by a dense igno- 
rance, a contempt for the Testament, and a thorough familiarity 
with The Golden Legend. He informs, however, against a neighbor, 
Philologus, who is forthwith haled for trial before the Cardinal. 
There he states his reasons for doubting the primacy of Peter and 
the whole theory of Apostolic succession, and questions the Cardinal’s 
authority for the doctrine of the real presence, Hoc est corpus meum, 
with a Puritan’s readiness in disputation: 





1 Herford, 119-29. Creizenach handles the Latin drama (2. 1—181). 
There are monographs by Cloetta and Bahlmann. 

2 Herford, 129-32. See below. 

8 Herford, Chap. 3.  Schnaase, 1. 1. 96-97. 


368 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


You ask me in what sense these words I verify, 

When Christ of the bread said, ‘This is my body.’ 

For answer herein I ask you this question: 

Were Christ’s disciples into salt transformed 

When he said, ‘Ye are the salt of the earth every one,’ 
Or when the light of the world he them affirmed? (84) 


But in spite of his bold avowal of these truths before the hos- 
tile court, Philologus is ensnared by the picture of carnal pleasure 
that Sensual Suggestion exhibits in a mirror. Conscience, Spirit, 
and Terror seek to restrain him, and a controversy ensues between 
Conscience and Suggestion which, although reminiscent of the 
earlier plays, is greatly abbreviated to allow space for the twenty 
pages and more of exhortation that Theologus and Eusebius address 
to the sinner. They get him to state the belief that he once held 
through study of the epistles of Paul and James, and when he 
mentions the necessity of good works, they hasten to show him on 
Biblical authority the superiority of faith. It is such Protestant ex- 
hortation of the Puritan stamp that finally recalls Philologus from 
popery, and brings him to a Christian end.1 

Again in New Custom sectarian controversy makes up the bulk 
of the play. Perverse Doctrine, to be sure, is unexpectedly con- 
verted at the end, and becomes Sincere Doctrine; but the conflict 
has been used only as an occasion for disputation. Perverse Doc- 
trine, the old Popish priest, condemns in strongest terms the new 
theologians who read and discuss the Testament familiarly and deny 
the doctrine of transubstantiation. Such a one, Ignorance replies, 
is New Custom: 


I am sure he hath not been in the realm very many years, 
With a gathered frock, a polled head and a broad hat, 

An unshaved beard, a pale face; and he teacheth that 

All our doings are nought, and hath been many a day. 

He disalloweth our ceremonies and rites, and teacheth another way 
To serve God, than that which we do use. 

But he commands the service in English to be read, 

And for the Holy Legend the Bible to put in his stead, 


Every man to look thereon at his list and pleasure, 
Every man to study divinity at his convenient leisure. (163—64) 





* The plot was suggested by the conversion of Francis Spira, an 
Italian lawyer who lived in England about the middle of the century 
(Ward, 1. 138). 


The English Moral Plays 369 


All these heresies, in fact, New Custom bluntly avows when he 
meets the priest upon the stage immediately after this introduction. 


I said that the mass, and such trumpery as that, 
Popery, purgatory, pardons, were flat 
Against God’s word and primitive constitution. (7d) 


On these points they bicker with no apparent evangelistic pur- 
pose and without result; the good character is not even set in the 
stocks, and reenters at once with Light of the Gospel to discuss 
the Protestant dogma of justification by faith. This Genevan doc- 
tor, in fact, upholds against Catholicism the moderate Puritan 
position of Elizabeth’s early reign.? 

Very similar in spirit and teaching is Wever’s Lusty /uventus. 
Good Counsel and Godly Knowledge brand the traditions of the 
older generation as vain and its teachers as ignorant and false. 
They teach a truer doctrine, with the result that the Devil is forced 
to admit that although the older people followed his laws, the 
younger generation will not, seeking to live instead “as the Scripture 
teacheth.” So Juventus becomes in Hypocrisy’s eyes a “New 
Gospeller,” or in his own “an earnest professor of Christ’s gospel.” 
Both these Puritan plays were written under the influence of Bishop 
Bale. The characters Light of the Gospel and Assurance were 
suggested by Evangelium and Fides Christiana of Bale’s Three 
Laws, God’s Merciful Promises was derivative from Bale’s God’s 
Promises, and Hypocrisy from his Three Laws. 

The Catholic party was not so ready in this form of argument 
as their aggressive opponents, and of the plays they wrote only 





1 There were other anti-Catholic plays. Henry Cheke’s /reew7// was 
a translation from the Italian of Nigri da Bassano (Schelling, 2. 60). 
There is record of a play Zhe Burning of John Huss (Schelling, 1. 72). 
Thomas Wylley, a clergyman of Suffolk, in a letter to Cromwell in 15387 
wrote: “The most part of the priests of Suffolk will not receive me 
into their churches to preach ... since I made a play against the Pope’s 
counselers, Error, Colle Clogger of Conscience, and Incredulity.... I have 
made a play called a Rude Commonalty. I am making of another 
called the Woman on the Rock, in the fire of faith affyning and a 
purging in the true purgatory.” (Letters and Papers. Foreign and 
Domestic. Henry VII, 12. 1. 244). A physician of London, named 
Luke, wrote during Henry’s reign the Znterlude of John Bon & Mast 
Person, a dialogue against the doctrine of transubstantiation. These 
Protestant plays are alluded to in the poem, 4 Pore Help (Strype, LZcc/. 
Mem., 2. 2. 3383-39). 

2 Brandl, Quedlen, \xiv. 


370 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


one, Respublica, has been preserved. In that long and serious play, 
Avarice ingratiates himself into the favor of Respublica, calling 
himself Policie, and introduces his three friends, Adulation, Oppres- 
sion, and Insolence, as Honesty, Reformation, and Authority. Together 
they oppress People, whose complaints are all in vain; for Res- 
publica is so completely deceived by her evil administrators that she 
overlooks the wasting of her revenues.1. Yet Avarice openly boasts 
of his schemes for blackmail, perjury, and the sale of benefices, 
and shows how he has long cheated the king of his customs 
duties, exported wheat and other commodities illegally, depreciated 
the currency, and wasted the public forests. Of these evil practices 
People tries to complain, but is driven off by the oppressors. 

In the fifth act Mercy comes from God with assurances of redress 
for poor Respublica. It is an easy matter for Truth, who accom- 
panies Mercy, to disclose the perfidy of the four evil administrators, 
and for Justice and Peace, the other reformers, to bring them for 
trial before Nemesis, who represents Queen Mary.? Following the 
suggestion of Mercy and Truth, Nemesis, because of the good 
service that Adulation might render, places her upon probation, 
but she commits Insolence and Oppression to custody, and orders 
that Avarice restore all that he has gained by fraud. Thus a happy 
state is prepared for Respublica. 

The above outline should show that Respublica gives very little 
attention to the theology of the Reformation; People protests only 
against injustice and oppression, and Nemesis’ reforms look only to 
honest government. In this, Respubiica owes much to Lindsay’s 
Scottish morality, Ane Satyre of the Thrie Estaits. Of the tedious 
prolixity of this play no mere outline can give any idea. The cen- 
tral character is King Humanity, whose intent it is to rule according 
to God’s will. But three vices, Wantonness, Placebo, and Solace, 
bring him into the power of Sensuality, and three evil counselors, 
Flattery, Deceit, and Falsehood, who pose in the guise of Devotion, 
Discretion, and Wisdom, delude and debauch the “three estates’— 
the clergy, the nobility, and the commons.? Consequently, Good 
Counsel, who hopes to reform the king, is driven into exile, and 





le 3 ara 5 25:10, aoe 

3 There is nothing originai, as some critics have supposed, in this 
idea of the disguise of the vices as virtues; the thought was common 
in medieval homiletics. Gregory the Great, for example, declared that 
the vices do not present themselves in their naked wickedness, but 
assume a fairer appearance, cruelty presenting itself as justice, anger as 
righteous zeal, fear as humility, and so on (Morals, 3. 544—46). There- 


The English Moral Plays 371 


Truth and Chastity, repudiated alike by all three estates, are set 
in the stocks. Only Divine Correction is strong enough to overcome 
the evil advisers, to free the prisoners, and to induce the king to 
summon Parliament for the redress of grievances. 

In the second part of this long play redress is made. There is 
withal ample room for some reflection of Scotland’s religious re- 
form. The ignorance and vice of the clergy, especially of the 
pardoners, is ruthlessly exposed; steps are taken to expel all lazy, 
ignorant, and vicious priests, and to abolish the order of nuns; and 
good clergymen are found, from one of whom the audience is 
favored with an exemplary sermon on the Passion and Atonement, 
and with a Protestant version of the Apostles’ Creed. But all this 
is overshadowed by the call for civil reform. The plea of Pauper 
for justice to himself and his motherless children, and the protests 
of John Commonwealth, lay bare the corruption of the state. The 
Parliament is summoned, and passes legislation looking to the 
establishment of justice for all, the fair rental of lands, the main- 
tenance of an intelligent and moral clergy, and the prohibition of 
pluralities and other forms of oppression. There is little distinctly 
Protestant theology in the play, little that is not found in the 
satires of Heywood and Chaucer; but there is loud protest against 
economic and political abuses. 

Owing to the course taken by the Reformation in England, the 
English controversial drama necessarily dealt largely with such 
public questions. The moral play, Godly Queen Hester, uses Biblical 
narrative, after the fashion of the miracle-plays, to enforce the lesson 
of humility. But the play is near of kin to the political moralities; 
for in it are plain references to England’s sumptuary laws, the 
abuse of pluralities, the treatment of the Jews, and the political 
controversies of Tudor times as waged in 


The slanderous reports, the lies that be made, 

The feigned detractions and contumelious, 

The rhymes, the railings so far set abroad, 

Both painted and printed in most shameful wise. (269) 


In the report of the troubles between the lords and the Cardinal, 
to which most space is given, Dr. Grosart has shown that there is 
much that is suggestive of the career of Wolsey. 











fore, he continues, we should scrutinize apparent virtues as money- 
changers examine coins, to see if they be really genuine (I. c., 611; see 
also Pastoral Care, Part 2, chap. 9). 

1 262-64, 269. 

Trans. Conn. Acap., Vol. XIV. 25 Marcu, 1910. 


372 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


George Wapull followed the example of these plays in his late 
morality, The Tyde Taryeth No Man. But where those plays 
preached reform on national issues that were the concern of the 
Court and Parliament, this later play handles civic abuses that fell 
within the jurisdiction of the aldermen and the Council. The 
proverb that stands as the title is misinterpreted by the vice, 
Corage, as an excuse for selfishness and greed, and by it he in- 
cites his followers to a covetousness that brings suffering to faithful 
London tenants, to a greed that drags spendthrift gallants into the 
toils of usurers, and to a disobedience that hurries young girls into 
imprudent marriages. The editor of the play pertinently calls 
attention to the recognition of these abuses by reformers like 
Stubbes and Lodge. But the means employed by Wapull were 
those long familiar to the moral dramatist. Christianity is re- 
presented as dishonored and enervated by the abuses of the 
citizens; she complains against the wrongdoers; and eventually is 
rescued by the intervention of Faithful Few, who represents sound 
middle-class citizenship and authority. 

The fragments that remain of two plays of this same intent! may 
give place in this discussion to the later plays, The Three Ladies 
of London, and The Three Lords and the Three Ladies of London. 
The allegorical characters who appear at the opening of the first of 
these plays are not markedly different from the characters of other 
moralities. Dissimulation, Fraud, Usury, and Simony go to London, 
and there make suit to the three ladies, Love, Conscience, and 
Lucre. But the play soon introduces civic questions. In their 
service of Lady Lucre the four inaugurate, or at least contribute 
to, certain economic evils that England was then burdened 
with. They connive at the exportation of necessary commodities 
in exchange for the most frivolous baubles; they raise the rents 
in London till Englishmen have to crowd into tenements, as the 
people of France and Flanders do; they incite tradesmen to petty 
dishonesty, and lawyers to grosser frauds, and in general sow 
corruption in the state.2 The movement of the play suggests a 
great city pageant rather than a morality. The scenes where the 
three Lords of London, the three Lords of Spain, and the three 
Lords of Lincoln—all allegorical—respectively offer themselves as 
suitors to the three Ladies, whom Judge Nemo has reclaimed, are 





* Albion Knight, and Somebody, Avarice, and Minister. Both fragments 
have been reprinted. See Chambers, 2. 461; Brandl, lix. 
2 278—79, 305-6, 326—44. 


The English Moral Plays 373 


pageant-like. The Lords’ retainers, their escutcheons, and their display 
of costume, would be especially suitable in a civic show. The clash 
between the Lords of London and the Lords of Spain, which clear- 
ly typifies the defeat of the Armada and the glory of London, 
has the statuesque nature of a charade.! Here again is a marked 
departure from the typical religious play. 

But already in these two long Elizabethan plays a point has been 
reached well beyond the heat of the controversy. The plays handle 
public matters, but without the bitterness of the controversialist ; 
and poor Simplicity’s humorous plea for the three absurd reforms 
apparently travesties such characters as Pauper and John Common- 
wealth. It is therefore time to close this chapter with a brief ac- 
count of the attitude of the government toward these plays of 
reform.” 

It must not be supposed that Tudor sovereigns let pass unnoticed 
this interference of the dramatists in the management of church 
and state; there was the doctrine of the divine nght of kings to 
be maintained. Henry still stood ready to sanction “plays and 
enterludes for the rebukyng and reproching of vices and the setting 
forth of vertue,’ but he soon learned how troublesome those were 
that meddled with “interpretacions of scripture, contrary to the 
doctryne set forth or to be set forth by the kynges maiestie.” ® 
To follow the measures of repression and regulation that were 
authorized by royal proclamation and act of Parliament is not easy. 
Plays of one religious stripe were as useful, the different sovereigns 
felt, as those of the other were obnoxious; Henry at first saw a 
difference between plays that handled religious affairs and those 
that bothered with kingship. Discrimination on the part of the 
rulers was therefore necessary, and evasion, in consequence, was 
accepted by the players as their privilege. History, then, is not 
altogether clear. 

The first repressive measures of which the records bear trace 
were taken by Cardinal Wolsey in 1526 to bring to punishment 
those responsible for the performance at Gray’s Inn of John Roo’s 
morality, Lord Governaunce and Lady Publike-Wele.® Taking it as 
an attack upon his public policy, Wolsey “in a greate furie sent 
for the said master Roo, and toke from hym his Coyfe, and sent 





1 461—75. 

2 Simplicity is one of the few genuinely humorous characters of the 
morality plays. 

3 34 and 35 Henry VIII, c. 1. 1543. “ Chambers, 2. 220. 

* Hall, 719. 


374 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


hym to the Flete, & after he sent for the yong gentlemen, that 
plaied in the plaie, and them highly rebuked and thretened.” So 
also objection was taken to a play in 1533 that offered “ defamation 
of certain cardinals.”! But in the same year Wolsey and the De- 
fender of the Faith looked with equanimity upon John Ritwise’s 
play, already referred to, that handled to his discomfiture “the 
herretyke, Lewtar.”* It mattered much whose ox was gored. 

The most serious agitation was caused in 1537 by the performance 
at Cambridge of the noted anti-papal play, Pammachius. A half 
dozen letters passed between Bishop Gardiner and Vice-Chancellor 
Parker in reference to the occurrence, the former reporting that 
he had heard many protests from the papists, and demanding a 
rigorous investigation, the latter assuring the bishop that all offen- 
sive passages had been omitted in the performance. But the 
bishop still believed that the play had spoken contemptuously of 
Lenten fastings, the mass, and, in fact, all ceremonies, although it was 
wrong to “mok and skorne the direction of ther prince in matier 
of religion.” The official investigation that he ordered brought out 
no cause for offense; but the play-book that was forwarded to the 
bishop confirmed his suspicions, and on his order the players were 
summoned before the college authorities for reprimand and apol- 
ogy.* 

Nevertheless, at this time Henry seems to have permitted plays 
that encouraged religious reform. It was not till Cromwell’s dis- 
placement in 1540 that Henry turned his favor from the reformers. 
Then the law was passed forbidding plays to meddle with inter- 
pretation of Scripture. This of course was repealed by Edward, 
who himself, it is said, wrote a comedy, De Meretrice Babylonca.’ 
A later law forbade on the stage any derision of the Book of 
Common Prayer.6 But with the coming of Mary to the throne, 
royal policy was again reversed by a comprehensive proclamation 
making requisite, as a precaution against “sedition and false rumors,” 
a license for every play.7. This provision did not altogether forestall 
trouble®; but Elizabeth saw fit to renew it, and no plays were 





1 Chambers, 2. 220. 2 See above, 364. 

3 J. Lamb, 4 Collection of Letters, Statutes, and Other Documents from the 
MS. Library of Corp. Christ. Coll. ondon, 1838, 49-57. See above, 367. 

4 Chambers, 2. 220—21. 

5 1 Edw. VE, c, 12 ‘Also (Chambers, 2: 222: 

f 2 eandyS Wdwe Vale sele 

7 Quoted by Hazlitt, Anelish Drama, 15—18. 

> Gildersleeve, 11—12. 





The English Moral Plays 375 


to be so sanctioned that handled matters of religion or state. 
Throughout the whole period the government made determined 
efforts to prevent objectionable meddling by the stage. 

In this chapter the development of the moral play under the 
stimulus of the Reformation has been outlined. It was no radical 
innovation to exact of a dramatic type that had long been the 
support of religion an alliance with one party or the other; for the 
idea of godliness in the sixteenth century was never free from the 
taint of partizanship. The moral play, therefore, ceased to be a 
plain homily, and became argument and invective. The change of 
purpose widened its scope. In handling public questions the play 
could no longer confine itself to abstractions; special problems of 
statecraft and church, and the policies of real leaders, took their 
place with ethical warning on the stage. The spirit of criticism, 
the bitterness of invective, the sharp play of satire, entered also 
into the play. Thus it was given new and broader possibilities than 
it had before enjoyed, and in the development was warped from 
the simplicity of its first design. But it still had a serious mission 
to perform, and, although marred to our eyes by unfairness and 
coarseness of partizan zeal, these controversial plays represented 
exactly the religious spirit of their day, just as earlier plays had 
responded to the serener and clearer purpose of their churchly 
authors. 


CuapreR Vii.—PLays or THE RENAISSANCE. 

By the religious controversy of the sixteenth century the morality 
play was held longer than it otherwise would have been to the 
service of the church. In the old field new opportunities were 
offered to a dramatic literature already showing a restiveness under 
its restrictions. But the call of the Reformation could not wholly 
exclude the religious dramatists from the broader interests in life 
and literature that even earlier had come to England with the New 
Learning. Besides the plays that broached and debated the great 
public questions of Henry’s reign, there were others that spoke the 
message of Humanism. In so doing they did not altogether forsake 
the cause of morality; it was possible to exalt the dignity of secular 
learning as a means to the higher end that the old-time moralities 
directly reached to attain. It was possible, also, to find instances 
of the traditional Psychomachia in the walks of life followed by the 
humanists and their disciples. Here again, therefore, the moral 
play found an opportunity for rejuvenation and extension. 


376 Elbert N.S. T. hompson 


The earliest, and in many respects the most interesting, of the 
humanists’ plays is The Nature of the Four Elements, which was 
written about the year 1519 to expound “many proper points of 
philosophy natural, and of divers strange lands, and of divers strange 
effects and causes.” For this schooling the well-tried machinery 
of the morality worked admirably. A central figure, Humanity, 
places himself under the tutelage of Natura Naturata and Studious 
Desire, and listens to their lectures on the nature of the four ele- 
ments, the size of the earth and its position in the solar system, and 
the cause of tides and other natural phenomena. Later Experience 
is introduced by them as a widely traveled scholar to carry on 
the demonstration of the rotundity of the earth, and to exhibit on 
a “figure,” or globe, “ certain points of cosmography ” that Humanity 
should know. 

An interested reader can fancy the attention that this geography 
lesson would draw from the spectators. It would be to them an 
explorer’s tale. 


This sea is called the Great Ocean, 

So great it is that never man 

Could tell it, since the world began, 

Till now, within this twenty years, 

Westward be found new lands, 

That we never heard tell of before this 

By writing nor other means, 

Yet many now have been there; 

And that country is so large of room, 

Much longer than all Christendom, 

Without fable or guile; 

For divers mariners had it tried, 

And sailed straight by the coast side 

Above five thousand mile! 

But what commodities be within, 

No man can tell nor well imagine; 

Oh, what a thing had be then, 

If that they that be Englishmen 

Might have been the first of all 

That there should have take possession, 

And made first building and habitation, 

A memory perpetual! (25) 

For a play so frankly pedagogic in content and purpose the 

author thought best to give some justification. Accordingly, the 





The English Moral Plays 377 


Messenger in delivering the Prologue acknowledges, with apparent 
reference to the strictly religious play, that 


It is a common good act to bring 
People from vice. (5) 


But religious precept alone he regards insufficient to raise the 
ignorant man to a knowledge of God’s laws: 


Man to know God is a difficulty, 

Except by a mean he himself inure, 

Which is to know God’s creatures that be: 

At first them that be of the grossest nature, 

And then to know them that be more pure; 

And so, by little and little ascending, 

To know God’s creatures and marvellous working. 

And this wise man at the last shall come to 

The knowledge of God and His high majesty, 

And so to learn to do his duty, and also 

To deserve of His goodness partner to be. (6) 
Or, to put it in prose, the exhibition of scientific truth is a direct 
furtherance of religion. 

For this view of the relation between knowledge and godliness 
the author might have cited volume and page from many an old 
theological treatise. Prudentius taught that with Adam’s sin Satan 
gained control over man and nature, and wrought in both a sad 
transformation.! Honorius of Autun develops the idea that ignorance 
is a spiritual darkness comparable to the exile in Babylon, and that 
wisdom is a light attained by science.? In other words, ignorance 
and sin have a common parentage. Vincent of Beauvais, who 
gathered in his enormous encyclopedia all the learning of the 
doctors, declared that, as bodily labor relieves man of the physical 
necessities that have burdened him since the expulsion from Eden, 
so knowledge can relieve him of the ignorance that since then has 
darkened his mind? Alain de Lille fancied the union of body and 
soul through Arithmetic, Harmony, and Music, and the rise of Na- 
ture, Prudence, and Reason to heaven in a car built of the seven 
liberal arts.4 If, then, the weakness of man’s mind is but another 
indication of Satan’s domination, the clearing away of ignorance 
must be a step toward God. The author of the Four Elements, 
therefore, is thoroughly orthodox in claiming for his play a place 
among more strictly religious productions. 





1 Hamartigenia, 216 ff. 2 Speculum Ecclesiae, c. 1243. ? 
3 Male, 83-84. 4 Anticlaudianus. 


378 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


Even though a humanist may have been also enough of a theologian 
to appreciate all this, that would do little to recommend his in- 
struction to the unlettered audiences of his day. The lessons of 
the school were no more popular than those of the church. This 
the author seemed himself to realize, for to the title proper he 
added the statement: “if ye list, ye may leave out much of the sad 
matter,... and then it [the play] will not be past three-quarters of 
an hour of length.” To ward off dulness he introduces Sensual 
Appetite to interrupt the lecture of Studious Desire with his merry 
Wellerism, 


Well hit, quoth Hykman, when that he smote 
His wife on the buttocks with a beer-pot, (15) 


and to draw Humanity to the dissipations so familiar to playgoers 
of the day. Not much, it is true, of the Psychomachia remains ; 
Humanity is one of those easy-going mortals always ready to follow 
a chance companion. After having listened attentively to the 
pedagogues, he follows Sensual Appetite to enjoy at the inn a 
three-course dinner—a term that the taverner fails to understand— 
and to revel with Nell and Jane. From the supper that he orders, 
Experience is able to draw him back to his lesson, but only to 
lose him again before the evening’s dancing and song. These 
scenes justify the term “merry” that the author applies to the play ; 
in fact, instead of bringing to the action a serious moral conflict, 
they serve only as a sort of counter-irritant to the didactic matter 
that the uncultured would think “sad.” 

The change of spirit that marks this dramatic product of the 
New Learning is further traceable in the admission of Natura Na- 
turata that Sensual Appetite has its place in man’s character, and 
that only its overindulgence is baneful : 


Though it be for thee full necessary 

For thy comfort sometime to satisfy 

Thy sensual appetite, 

Yet it is not convenient for thee 

To put therein thy felicity 

And all thy whole delight. (44—45) 


Medieval asceticism here gives way at least a trifle to the sensuous 
enjoyment of life that the Renaissance revived. This same point 
is more fully elaborated in the earlier morality, Mature, where 
Sensuality is represented as an indispensable part of man’s psychic 
being, embracing sense-perception and temperate carnal desires. 
As Brandl has shown, these distinctive features of the play were 


The English Moral Plays 379 


plainly derived from Lydgate’s Reson and Sensualyte, or its Old 
French original, Les Echecs Amoureux. But Medwell, the author 
of Nature, did not subordinate the moral purpose of the play, as 
did Lydgate, to the end of humanism, and on the whole gives to 
the new spirit a less generous recognition than did his successor, 
the author of The Four Elements. 

Another significant deviation in these humanistic plays from the 
ecclesiastical pattern is noticeable in the nature of the guide or 
preceptor chosen for the hero. Instead of Good Angel or Mercy, 
as of old, it is Natura and Studious Desire in one play, and God's 
“ minister,” Lady Nature, with Reason in the other, that point the 
way to the desired end. The employment of Reason in this office 
was continued by John Redford in Wit and Science, and by the 
revisers who prepared the play for later audiences.? 

Redford’s play is clothed in the form of romance. Wit, an un- 
proved youth, is courting Science, the only daughter of Reason. 
Reason is ready to grant his suit if he proves himself worthy of 
Science, and he counsels the youth to strive hard to win her. But 
Wit scorns the counsel of his guide, Instruction, and, accompanied 
only by Study and Diligence, presses forward. Very shortly, though, 
he is assailed on the road by the giant, Tediousness, and almost 
killed, and later, after Honest Recreation has played the Good 
Samaritan, by Idleness. Through her corrupting influence his ap- 
pearance and manners are so debased that Science, when they meet, 
does not recognize him, and flees. But Reason, still ready to aid, 
encourages him to renew his efforts, this time keeping Diligence 
and Study under the control of Instruction. So escorted, Wit 
passes safely the haunt of Tediousness, whom Gayley has aptly 
called the Giant Despair of the moral plays, and is accepted by 
Science. 

The Marriage of Wit and Science revises Redford’s version to 
the improvement of the dramatic structure, but the motif itself re- 
mains essentially the same. The youth is impatient of his guides, 
and not till Shame has schooled him is he ready to accept their service 
and so win his bride. The other modernization, The Contract of 
Marriage between Wit and Wisdome, injects into the plot much of 
the humorous realism of true comedy. The two soldiers, Snatch 
and Catch, who return from Flanders singing, 





1 xliii—xliv. 
* I have been unable to see J. Seifert’s work on this group of plays, 
Wit-und Science-Moralitdten, Prague, 1892. 


380 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


I hath bin told, ben told, in prouerbs old, 
That souldiares suffer both hunger and cold, (25) 


and then bind and blindfold Idleness to make him the butt of their 
pranks; the quest of Constable Search for Idleness, who in the 
disguise of a ratcatcher consents to help Search cry the proclamation 
for his own arrest; the trouble between Doll and Lob over the 
stolen “poredge pot”—these are the prototypes of real comedy. 

The romance that distinguishes this group of plays, and indeed 
the whole allegorical conception of the various branches of knowl- 
edge, owes its origin to a contemporary of Prudentius, Martianus 
Capella. He began his long treatise on the liberal arts with a ro- 
mance from which the book received its title, De Nuptis Philo- 
logiae et Mercurit. According to the story, Mercury, who has fallen 
in love with Philologia, the highly cultured daughter of an ancient 
family, persuades the gods in council to make her a goddess and 
sanction their marriage. The preparations for the wedding, the 
bride’s appearance on the day of the ceremony, the dress and at- 
tributes of the seven branches of év7vium and quadrivium that ac- 
company her, are fully described in this curious allegory. The 
seven matrons are then given an opportunity to deliver each a long 
discourse on the branch of knowledge she represents. To these 
treatises medieval scholars attached great value; they treasured 
the manuscript in their libraries, used it as a text-book in their 
schools, and freely recommended it to later writers and to the 
sculptors who carved the figures of the arts and sciences on the 
portals of the cathedrals. 

Although these three plays hark back more or less directly to 
this bizarre product of the fifth century, the direct influence upon 
the drama of the English humanists came from the Continent. The 
teachers and patrons of the New Learning who shortly before the 
middle of the sixteenth century revived in Holland and Germany 
the comedy of Terence, took a new and professionally inspired 
interest in the training of youth. In a style not unworthy of their 
Latin model, they sought to display the temptations that draw youth 
from the pursuit of knowledge and godliness, and so to combine 
the intrigue of Roman comedy with Christian example of the fruits _ 
of idleness and sin. The Asotus of Macropedius, the Paradell of 
Waldis, and the Acolastus of Gnapheus, adapt the story of the 
Prodigal Son to this new end, and other plays, like the Redelles of 





1 Ebert, 1. 483-85; Male, 98-112. 


The English Moral Plays 381 


Macropedius and the Studentes of Stymmelius, follow the same plan.} 
Whatever one may think of The Four Elements and Wit and Science, 
it is no far cry from the genuine morality to these that focus upon 
the particular problems of student life. 

The German school-plays were brought to England through the 
same channels that carried the controversial literature. Manuscript 
copies of the original texts, for example of the Studentes, circulated 
among the cultured; the Aco/astus was translated by Palsgrave ; 
and other plays were reproduced with necessary alterations.? These 
Latin comedies did not employ allegory, as the recognized morality 
did, but they resembled that type so closely in spirit that in 
England they customarily borrowed the allegorical method. 
This they could do without sacrificing at all the desired realism, 
for allegory was no longer confined to theological abstractions un- 
colored by human life. In The Nice Wanton, an adaptation of 
Rebelles, one sees scarcely any distinction between the two allegori- 
cal characters, Shame and Iniquity, and their fellows, who sup- 
posedly represent real persons Neither the allegorical nor the real 
at this time was all that it should be, and they met on almost 
middle ground. The English school-plays, then, are only a spec- 
ialized form of the broad morality-type. 

The Nice Wanton was written during the reign of Edward VI, 
it may be by Thomas Ingeland. Its plot is extremely simple. A 
fond mother has two sons and a daughter. The elder son, whom 
she has brought up strictly, is regular and punctual in his attend- 
ance at school, pursues his studies diligently, and quotes the Scrip- 
tures with glib, though Pharisaical, fluency. But his brother and 
sister, used to every indulgence at home, play truant habitually, 
are known in the neighborhood for idleness and profanity, and soon 
learn to gamble and riot with evil companions in the public house. 
In the latter part of the play, a considerable lapse of time being 
assumed, the girl dies a disgraceful death, the boy is hanged for theft 
and murder, and the heart-broken mother is kept from taking her 
life only by the interference of the elder son. 

Both The Nice Wanton and its model, Rebelles, were schoolmasters’ 
pieces intended to enforce the precept, “Spare the rod and spoil 
the child.” In Febelles the mother is made more directly responsible 








1 Herford, 152-58. The French play, LZ’ Enfant Prodigue, sacrifices in- 
struction for unrefined amusement. See Refertotre, 57-59. 

? Herford, 108, 158-64. Schelling (1. 64) gives an interesting account 
of Palsgrave’s edition of the Acolastus. 


382 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


by forbidding the master the use of corporal punishment, and at 
the end the pedagogue gains a clearer triumph by being allowed 
to save the spoiled boys from the gallows and lead them off to 
receive their long deserved flogging. The moral in both plays is 
the same: 


Therefore exhort I all parents to be diligent 
In bringing up their children. 


O ye children, let your time be well-spent, 
Apply your learning, and your elders obey; 
It will be your profit another day. 


The Disobedient Child repeats this warning for parents and children, 
but with somewhat different intent; the lesson it would teach is 
prudence and obedience rather than morality. The son will not 
go to school, and indeed, if the Elizabethan masters were the brutal 
slave-drivers he describes, no one can blame the boy; but instead of 
giving himself to vicious pastimes, he marries—and lives to regret 
it. He has not money enough to support his wife, and is forced 
to peddle fagots from door to door; discord destroys his glowing 
illusion of domestic happiness; and the poor fellow is beaten by his 
wife as severely as the school-teacher could have done. The theme, 
then, is as proper for true comedy as for the moral play. The 
Devil, to be sure, survives, from the old caste of characters; and 
his final reminder that the world is his son, and the flesh his 
daughter, and that his allurements are covetousness, wrath, pride, 
lechery, gluttony, envy, and murder, echoes faintly the morality’s 
proper theme. Were it not for these traits, which were kept alive 
partly through the ethical purpose of the school-drama, The Dis- 
obedient Child would belong strictly to a history of comedy.? 

Naturally the humanists brought to the enrichment of the didactic 
drama new matter and a broader range of ideals. In the school- 
play, Misogonus, for example, whose resemblance to Acolastus Brandl 
has pointed out,’ the allegorical garb, and all else distinctive of the 
moral type except the sermonizing, have been set aside. Misogonus 
is another son gone wrong through parental indulgence, but the 
lesson is enforced by methods peculiar to real comedy. The scene 
at the dicing table and the dancing are explicitly handled, and 





* Cf. the French school-play, Moralité des Enfans de Maintenant. 

> Youth, Lusty Juventus, and Hickscorner are closely related to these 
school-plays in that they deal with the temptations of youth. 

$ Ixxviii—]xxix. 


ee SS 


The Englhsh Moral Plays 383 


there are a number of truly humorous character-sketches—the loutish 
countryman, Codrus, Madge Mumblecrust, who stutters, and the fool, 
Cacurgus. To these essays in real comedy the author adds an episode 
from the portfolio of romance. A nurse reveals to the heart-broken 
father the whereabouts of his eldest son, who was hidden away 
in infancy by his over jealous mother, and the youth is brought back 
to the home and the inheritance that await him. Naturally, Misogonus, 
thus disappointed in his expectations, finds it expedient to reform. 
The moral ending, however, does not obscure the fact that this 
incident of the finding of a lost son, which the author doubtless 
derived from the Menaechmi or the Captivt, makes the Misogonus 


‘the prototype of those many Elizabethan romantic comedies which 


end with such a surprise. 

Besides giving to the morality a new variety of matter borrowed 
from classical sources, as well as more homebred incidents such as 
the humorous spelling-lesson, the garbling of Latin sentences, and 
the trial scene in local courts, which was so popular in German 
dialogue,’ the humanistic impulse offered to the dramatists a broader 
range of allusion and even a new type of character which hastened 
the inevitable secularization of the stage. The author of The Trial 
of Treasure introduces his thesis, that the pleasures of the world 
are transitory, on the twofold authority of James and Diogenes, and 
throughout the play the testimony of the ancient philosophers is 
freely adduced. At the end, Time, after introducing himself as 
Cronos, the god of the Greeks, plays a more important part in 
enforcing the moral than does God’s Visitation. The similar ex- 
altation of Reason over the ordinary Christian virtues, which dis- 
tinguishes ature and The Four Elements, betokens the influence 
of Aristotle upon medieval thought. This is still more conspicuous 
in Magnificence. From the Ethics Skelton derived his conception 
of magnificence as a compound of munificence and liberality, and 
his belief that felicity and liberty are not inimical one to the other 
provided reason be kept in its rightful supremacy. From the same 
source the English poet borrowed his characters, Measure and Cir- 
cumspection, to represent regulative faculties of the soul.2 Schoolmen 
like Thomas Aquinas had always recognized a Christian value in 





1 See the long spelling-exercise in Wit and Scrence, 152—56 and in The 
Four Elements, 32. In Mfisogonus, 59, is an instance of the garbling of 
Latin phrases. The trial is found in Zeerakity and Prodigality and in other 
plays. These incidents were popularized, if not inaugurated, by the 
humanists. 

2 Magnificence, XXXii—XxXXxvViii. 


384 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


the philosophy of Aristotle; but in this play the honor accorded it 
springs from the intellectual, rather than from the moral, interests 
of the time. 

The increasing influence of the New Learning upon the sacred 
drama left its impress upon the literary style of the plays. The 
coming of conscious art into dramatic composition is easily trace- 
able. In its easy flow of verse and effective handling of dialogue, 
John Redford’s Wit and Science gives promise of the future; Ca- 
listo and Melibwa, though less of a morality, is still more a work 
of literature. But it is in their lyric parts that the later moralities 
showed their most decisive advance. The serious plays had trusted 
exclusively to Latin hymns for their musical effects; later plays 
were furnished with rude songs in the vernacular; the efforts of 
the humanists responded to the impulse of the new lyric poetry. 
A detailed analysis of metrical structure would be beyond the 
scope of this chapter?; it will suffice to refer to the song, Buy a 
Broom in The Three Ladies of London, the two-part song of Wit 
and Science, the four-part song of Mary Magdalene, and the suc- 
cessive lyrics of Zom Tyler, to illustrate the rise of lyric power in 
the dramatic poets. — 

The story of these humanistic plays foretells plainly and unmis- 
takably the disintegration of the moral play in the new and broader 
dramatic movement of the Elizabethan age. This will be traced 
somewhat in detail in the next chapter. But just as the satirical 
political plays were kept from their free development by the call 
of the Reformation for a continuance of the old type, so these 
humanistic plays were shackled by the adoption of the story of the 
Prodigal Son and of the idle pupil as the most suitable material. 
Otherwise these early English dramatists would have more often 
remodeled with English setting and English characters the comedies 
of Plautus and Terence, as the author of jack Juggler did the 
Amplutruo of Plautus. As it was, allegory might give way largely 
to reality; the indefinite moral struggle might be made more con- 
crete by placing it in the school or home; but the nature of the 
parable of the Prodigal Son made necessary the retention of the 
serious didactic spirit of the old religious play. 

This fact we see exemplified in the latest and best of English 
school-plays, Gascoigne’s Glasse of Gouernement, where allegory has 
entirely disappeared. Two rich burghers of Antwerp have each 





1 Ramsay gives some attention to the metrical structure of the moral 
plays (MWagnificence, li—]xx). 


The English Moral Plays 385 


two sons whom they desire to educate together. Accordingly 
they place them in the keeping of the schoolmaster, Gnomaticus 
who has been recommended as “a man famous for his learning 
of woonderfull temperance, and highly esteemed for the diligence 
and carefull payne which he taketh with his Schollers.” The four 
boys enter the master’s home, and begin a course of study in which 
secular learning plays no exclusive part. Gnomaticus would not 
‘“holde in contempt” the instruction they have already received 
in the comedies of Terence, in Tully’s epistles and “ offices,” and 
in prosody; for in the “ wanton discourses” of Terence are many 
“morall enstructions”; yet since “the true christian must direct his 
steppes by the infallible rule of Gods word,” these profane authors 
are to be used only where they “seeme consonant to the holy 
scriptures.” His first lesson, therefore, is a long discourse, called a 
chapter, on man’s duty to God. This is followed shortly by another, 
expounding in the same way man’s duty to king, country, and 
parents. The younger brothers listen attentively to the instruction, 
and, in order to master it more thoroughly, turn the precepts 
into verse, whose “verie terminations and ceasures doe (as it 
were) serue for places of memorie.” But the elder sons find the 
moral bent of their master extremely distasteful, for they hanker 
after the life of the university, where besides the “lectures daily 
read of all the liberall sciences, of all languages, and of all morall 
discourses,” they might have also “choyse company of gallant 
young gentlemen.” But soon in' Antwerp, while their younger 
brothers are engaged in study, they trickily get leave of absence 
and seek pleasure in the house of the meretrix Lamia. Their father, 
though, hears of this escapade, and the four are forthwith sent 
to the near-by university of Douay, a newly founded school, where 
“the roote of euill hath hetherto had least skope, and exercise 
hath beene (and is) the more streightly obserued.” But even in 
that “pelting towne packed full of poore skollers,” the elder sons 
come to grief; what the parasite Echo has done in Antwerp to ruin 
them, the faithless servant Ambidexter continues there. While the 
less gifted younger sons by diligent application rise to positions 
of honor, one becoming a minister at Geneva, and the other the 
Palsgrave’s secretary, one of the older boys is hanged for robbery 
in the Palsgrave’s court, and the other is whipped in Geneva for 
fornication. 

Gascoigne’s play is of extreme interest and importance to the 
student of the moralities. The author had had a wider ex- 
perience than that of most religious dramatists, having become 


386 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


acquainted during his university career with the works of the Con- 
tinental humanists, and possibly having learned to know their work 
more intimately while in the service of the Prince of Orange in 
the Low Countries.1_ He drops the allegorical element of the Eng- 
lish sacred drama, and, like the Continental humanists, deals alto- 
gether with human types. He abandons, too, the imperfectly con- 
structed verse of his contemporaries, and writes in the style of 
the Elizabethan /itterateur a prose that contains marks of incipient 
Euphuism. He constructs his drama, finally, in acts and scenes, 
with metrical choruses between the acts. The Glasse of Gouerne- 
ment, indeed, is more advanced in structure and characterization 
than any other play thus for considered. Yet in framework it 
resembles Bien Avisé, Mal Avisé, one of the oldest and purest of 
the French moralities, where, instead of a single central figure, 
as in the English pattern, two contrasted characters convey the 
moral lesson. One may say, then, that Gascoigne availed himself 
of all that the new literature had to teach in structure and style, 
and profited wisely from the richer experience and learning of the 
Renaissance, without sacrificing any essential element of the Eng- 
lish morality except allegory, and none of the essential elements of 
the Continental religious play. Because their interests thus held 
them to a serious didactic theme closely akin to that of the 
typical morality, the English humanists did not abandon as readily 
as one would expect the dramatic traditions of their past. 


CuapterR VIII.—SkcunaRizATION AND DISINTEGRATION OF THE Morat Ptay. 


The zeal of the controversial playwrights in upholding the pro- 
paganda of their churches, and the concern of the humanists in 
the welfare of youth, made possible for the time being a partial 
conformity with the technique and spirit of the moral play. The 
Reformation and the Renaissance bent, but did not at first break, 
the line of the drama’s development. Yet even the most serious 
of these propagandists’ dramas opened wider the door to tendencies, 
already felt to a degree, that were inherently destructive to the 
type. Instead of presenting a general, unlocalized allegory of human 
life, the controversial play dealt necessarily with the policies of 
real men, as well as with dogma, and the educational play with 
the interests of the teacher and the school. The one brought to 





1 Herford, 159. 





The English Moral Plays 387 


the drama the affairs of the world, the other the affairs of domestic 
life and all the wider interests and richer experience of secular 
learning. Consonant with the extended scope of these late moralities 
Lupton’s Al for Money presents the three newly-mated associates 
—Theology, in a “long ancient garment like a Prophet,” who 
survives from the older type of play; Science, the philosopher, who 
speaks for humanism; and Arte, who bears “certeyne tooles about 
him of diners occupations” to represent the business of ordinary 
life. They meet in perfect harmony, agreeing that 


No good order in the lande can be without vs three, 


and their lesson is conveyed not through abstract precept, but by 
“Plainly representing the manners of men and fashion of the world 
noweadayes.” Before the growing power of realism and of learning 
neither the religious purpose nor the allegorical method of the old 
play could hold its own. 

The universal interest in the manners of men had won for real- 
ism a place even in the early and yet serious didactic plays. The 
godly counselor Mercy of the Macro play, Mankind, is a learned 
moralist whom Mischief finds lamentably “full of predycacyon.” 
Evidently he was dressed as a preacher, for Mankind recognizes 
him at first sight as one able to give “gostly solace.” Be that 
as it may, he speaks his “mellyfluose doctryne” at great length, 
sowing liberally with ecclesiastical Latin his homilies on the signif- 
icance of the Atonement, the value of good works, and the temp- 
tations of the World, the Flesh, and the Devil. But the moral tenor 
of the piece is submerged in the rude banter and the obscene jest- 
ing and song of the tavern and the market-place, and the spiritual 
abstractions are boldly elbowed by types from real life. The 
author, to be sure, has not given either the vices, Now-a-days, 
New-gyse, Nought, and Mischief, or his hero, Mankind, Christian 
names, but all belong clearly to a rural community. When the 
hero would “eschew ydullness” to please his adviser, he gets his 
spade, and, like Piers Plowman, sets himself to husbandry. The 
devil, Tytivillus, and the vices torment him, stealing his seed and 
hiding obstructions where his spade will strike. Their own status in 
the neighborhood is not concealed. New-Gyse, himself a horse- 
thief, having barely escaped the gallows, swaggers in with the 
broken rope yet about his neck; Now-a-days returns with booty 
from a church; and Mischief clanks his fetters as he comes to aid 
in making a village criminal of poor Mankind. Their talk is racy 
with native idiom and slang, and their songs obscene. Despite the 

Trans. Conn. Acap., Vol. XIV. 26 Marcu, 1910. 


388 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


eventual conversion at the end, the dogma of the moral play has 
been largely obscured by the spirit of realistic comedy. 

More and more boldly, even impudently, the comedy of real life 
asserted its right first to recognition, then to equality, and finally, 
under new influences, to independent existence. Even later plays 
might still profess, as did Fulwel’s Like Will to Like, to exhibit, 
“not onely what punishment followeth those that wil rather followe 
licentious liuing, then to esteeme & followe good councel: and 
what great benefits and commodities they receiue that apply them 
vnto vertuous liuing and good exercises”; but the profession rings 
false. How much respect did Fulwel desire for prosy Virtuous 
Living as he comes into the company of cutpurses and tipplers with 
the edifying exclamation, “O gracious God, how wonderful are thy 
works?” The dramatist is showing the same weariness of piety 
and the same preference for wickedness that later distinguished 
Restoration comedy, and his purely perfunctory moral is at once 
forgotten. 

The forms in which this realism appeared in the morality were 
varied. Youth and Hickscorner, after the hero of each has deserted 
Charity for Riot, Pride, and his sister Lechery, become stories of 
thievery and hanging that merit the title of sixteenth-century 
Beggars’ Opera. In Nature realism appears in a breezy sketch of 
London’s houses of prostitution, gaming-tables, and the fashions of 
the gentleman. In The Life and Death of Mary Magdalene the 
fashions of the fine lady, who curses her tailors for the “most 
bungarliest tailers in this countrie” that her overgarment should 
set so poorly, and her waist appear no smaller, and who talks of 
curling irons, hair dyes, perfumery, and the like, attract most at- 
tention. The outcome of this growing interest in the world is found 
on the title-page of Tom Tyler and His Wife. With the theological 
abstractions who acted the earlier plays compare these: Destiny, 
a sage person; Desire, the vice; Tom Tyler, a labouring man; 
Strife, Tom Tyler’s wife; Sturdy, a gossip; Tipple, an ale-wife ; Tom 
Tayler, an artificer; and Patience, a sage person.” Then compare 
with the seriousness of the earlier plots the bourgeois simplicity 
and vulgarity of the story of this tradesman who would tame his 
shrewish, drunken wife. 

Here, in fact, the juncture is reached where morality gives place 
almost entirely to farce. In France, from the very beginning of the 
sixteenth century, the sotie and the farce had been cultivated side 
by side with the mzstére and the moralité; the Enfants sans souct, 
like the Confréres de la Passion, obtained their letters patent from 





The Enghsh Moral Plays 389 


King Charles VI. But in England the representation of comic in- 
cidents from the lives of common people in brief, lively, and entirely 
undidactic spirit, was not inaugurated till John Heywood, writing, 
it has been proved, under the direct influence of the French farce,} 
told the stories of John, the Husband, of Wit and Folly, and of the 
Four P’s. But when once this type of play was introduced, the 
days of the morality were numbered, not primarily because of its 
superior godliness, but rather because of its abstention from the 
theme most interesting to humanity—human life. The rule of alle- 
gory in literature had been long, and its reach wide; it was now 
compelled to yield to the reawakened sense of the dignity and the 
wealth of secular thought and secular life. 

It will be impossible to trace further the secularization of the 
moral play without giving some consideration to the forms of 
dramatic presentation that then prevailed, for these exercised con- 
stantly a greater and greater influence upon the plays themselves. 
The Pater Noster play of ancient York, the earliest known moral 
play, and the similar plays at Beverley and Lincoln, were presented 
after the fashion of the great Corpus Christi cycles by the members 
of regularly incorporated gilds on pageants that nfoved from one 
designated playing-place to another. And ina more simple manner 
other plays, like Saint John the Evangelist, were given as a sub- 
stitute for open-air religious instruction on Sunday afternoons.?. But 
none of the moralities that have been preserved belonged in this 
intimate way to the life of a particular city, or the needs of a cer- 
tain parish. Apparently they were in the hands of traveling com- 
panies, as the so-called Coventry cycle is conjectured to have been, 
at first under the supervision of the church, if one may judge from 
the contents of the plays, but soon controlled by strictly profes- 
sional interests. Beginning, then, on common ground with the 
miracle-cycles, the record of the presentation of the moral plays, 
keeping pace with the change of content, carries the student into 
the field of professional theatricals. 

Other plays than John the Evangelist were given out-of-doors. 
The prologue of The Pride of Life admonishes the audience to stand 
still and listen attentively no matter what the weather might be. 
But these out-door performances were not all arranged by ecclesias- 
tics as a means of Sabbath diversion, for even a play so thoroughly 
didactic in spirit as The Castle of Perseverance was in the hands of 








1K. Young, Modern Philology, 2. 97-124. 
2 See above, 340. 


390 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


a traveling company that carried it from town to town. Two 
heralds went ahead to advertise the play that their fellows purposed 


to playe 
bis day seuenenyt, be-fore Zou in syth, 
At—on pe grene, in ryall a-ray. (132—34) 


One may fancy the interest that this proclamation would arouse, 
and the crowds that would throng to the green a week later to 
watch the stage-hands and the players. Although I imagine that 
this early play was given in a well-restricted territory, possibly 
a diocese whose bishop encouraged its performance, the first step 
toward secularization was here taken. The church could not long 
control a drama that was entrusted to traveling players. 

The free performance, however, of The Castle of Perseverance 
was hindered by its scope. Its long and diversified allegory re- 
quired a more elaborate stage than a troupe of professional actors 
could readily equip. In the center stood the castle itself as a refuge 
for Man from the vices—a turret-like structure spanning a narrow 
passage-way in which stood a bed to conceal Man’s Soul. About 
this castle, allowing sufficient room for s ne of the players, at least, 
but not for “ ouer many stytelerys ” (ma ‘s), was dug a ditch, or, 
where that was impossible, was riggeC 1p some sort of barricade. 
Just without this circular enclosure five scaffolds provided conspicuous 
seats for God, Caro, Mundus, Belial, and Covetousness, which would 
not be too remote from the audience, who stood before the castle. 


1 The staging of Zhe Castle of Perseverance, as illustrated in the sketch 
accompanying the text in the unique manuscript of the play, was ap- 
parently common. The King in Zhe Pride of Life boasts that his messenger, 
Mirth, can 








liztly lepe oure pe lake, 
Qwher so euer he go. (269-70) 


In Ane Satyre of Thrie Estaits, the shrewish wives “stand be the watter 
syde”; Deceit runs off with the King’s strong box “ through the water ” ; 
the cobbler’s wife immodestly “lifts vp hir clais aboue hir waist, & enters 
in the water”; and John in escaping must “loup the stank, or els fall 
in it” (1367, 1571, 1383, 2430). It may be that a ditch proved an effec- 
tive means of keeping back a too eager audience, Hven more common 
was the use of scaffolds upon the stage. The King of Life had his 
“place”? upon the stage, called specifically a “ tent,” to which he retired, 
and, drawing the curtain, remained unseen while his queen talked with 
the bishop (Zhe Pride of Life). So, too, a “ house” was provided in Zvery- 
man for Salvation. And in the monumental Scottish play, Axe Satyre of 
Thrie Estaits, the “seats” belonging to Truth and other characters are 


The English Moral Plays 391 


It was an easy matter, though, for these traveling actors to sim- 
plify the staging of these plays, and to arrange for playing-places 
remote from the influence of the church, where their liking for 
realism could have free play. No place could have been more 
suitable than the inn, which afforded the desired freedom from clerical 
restraint, and at same time a shelter, when necessary, from the in- 
clement weather that thre. 1 much of the year would drive the 
spectators within doors. Consequently the author of Mankind let 
his hero welcome Mercy “to bis house”; later he is supposed to 
call for the tapster, while New-Gyse orders the hostler to bring a 
football for their amusement; and the proprietor is the first man 
appealed to for contributions... The text seems also to imply that 
the performance took place indoors, for the weather is said to be 
cold, and one of the characters leaves the stage to go into the 
“yard”; but circumstances alone would determine whether the play 
should be given in the courtyard or the hall, and the demands 
upon the stage-manager were therefore simple enough to permit 
of either.2 Mankind, apparently, was played on an open platform 
or in some court, provid«:} with no set properties, and simply con- 
nected by a side entranc ; with the “yard,” and by another door 
with the room to which t. » devil and the vices retire. The prop- 
erties were simple. Instead of castles, ditches, and barricades, 
only common articles that could be easily carried, or even more 
easily borrowed at each stopping-place, are mentioned—a net for 
Tytivillus, a spade and a bag of corn for Mankind, a wallet, a flute, 
and some other trifles for the vices.* Such. stage-craft was well 
within the limited resources of a small company traveling in in- 
dependence of the church or any municipal organization. 

How freely these companies of actors could travel in the face of 
frequently renewed legal prohibitions can not be known, but wher- 
ever they played their motive was gain. One of the most inter- 
esting passages of Mankind concerns its financing.t The piece is 
already half done, and the vices are playing for popular favor, 
when suddenly the devil Tytivillus, who up to this point has been 





several times mentioned. The King’s was so high as to be reached by 
a ladder, and was probably supplied with a curtain, for he is said to 
“cum fra his chamber” (1942-53, 808, and the stage-directions between 
parts 1 and 2). Such properties had been used long before on the 
pageants of the York Plays, but they could not be used freely by actors 
who would aim to travel with the least possible amount of baggage. 

BLS, (C14, LT. 2 547, 

3 292, 317, 528, 437_38, 465. 4 447-487. 


392 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


cleverly withheld, bawls from behind the scenes, “I com with my 
leggis vndur me.” The curiosity of the crowd, supposedly, is roused 
to a high pitch, but it is not to be too readily gratified. New-Gyse 
provokingly declares, 


Now gostly to owur purpos, worschypfull souerence! 
We intende to gather mony, 

for 
Ellys ber xall no man hym se. 


What the contribution must amount to is not specified. Now-a-days 
boldly asserts, 


He |Tytivillus] louyth no grotis, nor pens or to-pens: 
Gyf ws rede reyallys [gold pieces], yf ze wyll se hys abhom- 
ynabull presens. 


But New-Gyse, as he tests first “be goode man of pis house,” 
modifies this demand: 


Not so! ze bat mow not pay be ton, pay pe tober! 


Then after the passing of the hat, Tytivillus enters, “ drest like a 
devil, & with a net in his hand,” and at once all fall to badgering 
the crowd on its stinginess, just as the writer once heard some 
jugglers on the market-place in Freiburg tease a crowd of frugal 
Germans whose pfennige were not forthcoming. ‘Lend me a peny,” 
the devil asks of New-Gyse. But the vice answers with a shake 
of his empty wallet, 
I haue no monay ; 
By be masse, I fayll 1) farthyngis of an halpeny; 
dSyt hade I x! [10 pounds], bis nyght bat was, 


and his two fellows confirm his report. 

Similar allusions to the levying of contributions are found in other 
plays.t. One may therefore assume that, since the generosity of 
the playgoers would vary directly with their enjoyment, the actors, 
who worked for no higher end than personal profit, would not long 
hold to the drama’s religious purpose. Hence the theological frame- 
work of Mankind has been completely covered by the coarsest sort. 
of realism—the new environment of the inn, to which people flocked 
not for instruction, triumphing completely over the old, the church. 
For it was no easy matter to win the favor of the tavern-crowd. 
The prologue of the early play, The Pride of Life, was mindful 
to ask, 


/ 





' Life and Death of Mary Magdalene, Prologue. 





! 


The English Moral Plays 393 


Nou beit in pes & beit hende 
& distourbit nozt oure place [stage]. 


But usually the actors anticipated disturbance. The first speaker 
of Wealth and Health is surprised by the quiet that greets him: 


Why is there no curtesy, now I am come 
I trowe that all the people be dume 
Or els so god helpe me and halydom 
- They were almost a sleepe. 
No wordes I harde, nor yet no talking 
No instrument went nor ballattes synging 
What ayles you all thus to syt dreaming 
Of whom take ye care? 


The professional spirit of the players and the environment 
in which the plays were usually given, which thus hastened the 
downfall of the religious drama, brought with them also important 
modifications in form that less directly contributed to the process 
of secularization. The most noticeable of these changes was the 
greatly reduced length of the later moralities, or moral interludes, 
as they are often called. The Castle of Perseverance has almost 
four thousand lines and some thirty-five characters, while The World 
and the Child, which attempts to cover virtually the same ground, 
contains scarcely one thousand lines, and only five parts. The 
two parts of Nature contain together almost three thousand lines, 
but an interval of perhaps three days intervened between them.! 
Some of the controversial plays were extremely long, notably Res- 
publica, and Ane Satyre of Thrie Estaits, whose performance before 
King James lasted nine hours, with only one intermission for re- 
freshment.? But the typical morality of the later period was short, 
arranged to be played by four or five men within a period of an 
hour or two. To effect such simplification each actor was given 
two or more parts to play. One actor, for example, took in Mew 
Custom the parts of Ignorance, Hypocrisy, and Edification ; a sec- 
ond, the parts of New Custom, Avarice, and Assurance; a third, 
the single role of Perverse Doctrine; and a fourth, the parts of 
Light of the Gospel, Cruelty, God’s Felicity, and the lines of the 
Prologue. Zhe World and the Child might have been performed by 
two actors.’ How great the need for such simplification was, may 





4 OE 2 Nichol, Introduction, xlv. 
3 See Ramsay, ed. Magzificence, exxxiii, and also Brandl, 33, 46. 


394 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


be inferred from the frequency with which it is pointed out on the 
title-pages of the plays. ‘“ Fower may Play this Enterlude,” precedes 
the assignment of parts by the printer of ew Custom, and similar 
advertisements are found in Wealth and Health, Like Will to Like, 
and other plays. Such shortened entertainment was preferred by 
the audiences—-for did not even King Henry find one of Medwell’s 
lost allegories too tedious for endurance’; but it was largely the 
inability of traveling companies to supply the actors and the staging 
for the long, full-scope moralities, that most effectively caused their 
abridgment. 

Through this curtailment the moralities lost much in scenic effect. 
The processional features of Wisdom Who ts Christ, a strictly the- 
ological play, are most striking. At one point the Five Wits of 
the Soul, dressed in “white kertyllys & mantelys, with cheuelers 
& chappelettis,’ and singing, “ Nigra sum, sed formosa, filiae Jerusa- 
lem,” lead the march; Anima follows, “as a mayde, in a wyght 
clothe of golde gyntely purfyled with menyver”; then Wisdom, 
clothed in a purple robe richly ornamented with gold, and furred 
with ermine, and finally Mind, Will, and Understanding, “all i in 
wyght cloth of golde,” bring up the rear. The richness and variety 
of the costumes, the slow, stately’ march, and the solemn hymn, 
gave undoubtedly a splendid scenic effect not dissimilar to the 
familiar processions in the cathedrals. Only slightly less impressive 
were the seven followers of Mind in “ rede berdis, & lyouns rampaunt 
on here crestis, & yche a warder in hys honde,” the six perjurers 
who follow Understanding, and the six gallants who accompany 
Will, each party with trumpets, bagpipes, or other musical instru- 
ments. In all there are thirty-eight characters, twentyfour of whom 
are on the stage at one time. By such scenic display even reli- 
gious allegory could be made attractive; crowds would come, if not 
to listen, at least to see. But could Anima, Will, and the rest con- 
tinue to hold interest when stripped of their splendor? This the 
professional actor had to determine.’ 





1 Chambers, 2. 201. 2 36, 41, 46, 58-60. 

’ The costuming of Zhe Castle of Perseverance is indicated on the plan 
accompanying the manuscript. Queen Mary gave order for the delivery 
of certain theatrical costumes to her servants for a play to be given by 
“the gentlemen of the chapell.” Some of the items were: 


Genus humanum for a gowne purple breges satten vij yardes 
v virgins Cassockes of white breges, satten 
reason, verytie and plentie, every of them vij yardes 


The English Moral Plays 395 


Obviously such processional features and such extensive ward- 
robes would be beyond the means of small-sized troupes entirely 
dependent upon the generosity of the playgoing public. But there 
would be no occasion for such elaborate staging as the plays lost 
their purely allegorical and homiletic content, and approached re- 
alism. A gorgeously colored feather gave Vanity in Liberality and 
Prodigality a feeling of assurance that he could be recognized at 
a glance. Pride appeared in Nature with a doublet “ on-laced be- 
fore,” a satin stomacher, and a short gown with wide sleeves, wear- 
ing his hair “half a wote” below the ears.t| Such humanized per- 
sonifications might best appear in the simple costumes of real life. 
So also a bit of costume for the controversial plays would suffice 
to differentiate Popish priest from Genevan doctor. But beyond 
these simple stage-effects the professional actor would not have to 
go in an age that tended to the representation of real life. Thus 
the limited resources that hampered the stage, manager furthered 
the advance of realism at the expense of allegory, just as the ne- 
cessity for abridgment resulted usually in the sacrifice of the “sad 
matter” and the retention of the comedy. In every respect, there- 
fore, the then existing condition of the theatrical art rendered in- 
evitable the secularization of the moral plays. 

As a final instance of the changed character and purpose of the 
late moral play, consider the historical development on the stage 
of the Devil and the Vice. That the dramatic conception of the 
Devil had its origin in theological literature, rather than in popular 
tradition, there can be no doubt. Clergy and laity alike had an 
unshaken confidence in the continued activity in the world of the 
demoniacal being who sought Job’s ruin, and assailed even Christ 
himself. In the miracle-plays, therefore, he appeared wherever the 
story demanded his presence—on the pageants, for example, represent- 
ing the fall of Lucifer, the temptation of Eve, and Doomsday. In 
the moralities he stood for the source of all evil, man’s great enemy, 
as God was his great friend. Thus the Devil appears at the end 
of The Pride of Life to carry the King’s soul to hell; and in The 





Self-love a Cassocke of rede satten of breges 
Skarsitie a womans Cassocke of Russett & satten of Breges 


The bad angell iij yardes of Kersey and winges for the good angell 
and the bad, iij thromd hattes and tenn dosson of Counters and 
what youe shall lake for the furniture hereof To provide and see them 
furnished. Respublica, Xv. 

- Of. 


396 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


Castle of Perseverance, together with the World and the Flesh, his 
constant associates in theological literature, he leads the forces of 
evil that seek the overthrow of man. In these early plays, the 
Devil is a serious character, the product of theological thought.t 

The origin of the Vice as a dramatic character is more a matter 
of dispute. Cushman believes that the Devil and the Vice are 
related only as all influences for evil were supposed to emanate 
from one source; that the Devil was a _ theological-mythological 
being, the antithesis of God, while the Vice was an ethical person, 
the summation of the deadly sins, the antithesis of piety and mor- 
ality.2. Eckhardt, on the contrary, argues that the Devil was the 
immediate, though not the exclusive, source of the conception of 
the Vice. Between the two views the difference is but slight; for, 
since the deadly sins were regarded by churchmen as the children 
of the Devil, both postulate for the Vice, as well as for the Devil, 
an origin in theological literature. Chambers has supported an 
entirely different opinion, that relates the vice to the court fool or 
jester, who would figure first in the farce; but to the present 
author the Vice seems more directly descendent from the Devil and 
the deadly sins. 

But neither character retained long the marks of its serious, the- 
ological origin; the Devil took on human traits, and the Vice be- 
came the intimate associate of man. In Wisdom Lucifer appears 
with the attire of a gallant showing beneath his traditional 
costume, thus combining the attributes of the trio, World, Flesh, 
and Devil, and immediately lays aside the Satanic garb to tempt 
man more effectually as a human being.’ In other plays the Devil 
discards his black skin, animal’s head, tail, horns, and claws, and 
assumes a more human grotesqueness, a fiery red face and Bar- 
dolphian nose. The Vice was still more completely humanized, and 
soon became a man playing the part of rogue and mischief-maker. 
In such rdles he seems more closely allied with the fool, because, 
the author thinks, older influences had waned. If such be the case, 
both the Devil and the Vice show again how the allegorical was 
forced to give way to the concrete, and how theological teaching 
was supplanted on the stage by comedy of manners. 

But as one thus traces along these several lines the breakdown 
of the old type of play under the influence of secular literature and 





1 Cushman, 16. 2 Tbid., 63; Eckhardt, 101 ff. 
3 The Devil of a French play assumes the same disguise under his 
more usual costume (Cohen, 220-21). 


The English Moral Plays 397 


worldly affairs, the inference should not be drawn that the religious 
allegory was legislated by dramatic managers summarily from the 
stage, or that patrons of the new play were never edified by the 
old. The Contention between Liberality and Prodigality, which was 
given before Queen Elizabeth in 1600, synchronously with 
Romeo and Juliet, Henry IV, and the Merchant of Venice, proves 
the contrary. In this late survival, the fortunes of Money, first 
at the hands of Prodigality and his riotous companions, then in the 
penurious care of Tenacity (Avarice), dull almost as the per- 
functory discourses of Vertue and Equity, bring only two scenes of 
interest. The postilion beating at the tavern door to awake the 
host and hostess, and the scene in the court-room, opened with 
boisterous legality by the crier and the clerk—these are interesting 
bits of real comedy; but the dull didacticism of the play as a whole 
shows the tenacity with which the morality clung to its existence. 

Besides showing that the moral play was never arbitrarily re- 
legated to the literary scrap-heap, this late survival of the type 
reveals one direction in which the morality spent part of its force. 
The allegory teaches, instead of spiritual morality, only a single 
lesson in conduct—prudence and honesty. A majority of the French 
moralities, a type less clearly detined than in England, restrict them- 
selves to non-religious advice, to the natural, rather than the spiritual, 
virtues.1. Such, for example, is the Condamnation des Banquets. 
But this restriction, when found in an English play, is a mark of 
decadence. That would be our verdict on The Trial of Treasure, 
which exhibits the transiency of earthly wealth. Just and his friend, 
Sapience, agree that 


Treasures here gotten are uncertain and vain, 
But treasures of the mind do continually remain, 
(275) 


while Lust, led by Inclination, gives himself up to Lady Treasure 
and her brother, Pleasure. Lust and Just naturally come into dis- 
agreement, and actually wrestle upon the stage—so low had the 
holy war degenerated. But instead of a spectacular conversion, 
the audience was greeted at the end with a warning example. God's 
Visitation takes from Lust his companion, Pleasure, and Time re- 
moves Treasure, 


For like as all things in time their beginning had, 
So must all things in time vanish and fade. (297) 





1 Mortensen, 137. 


398 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


Then Time returns “with a similitude of dust and rust,” all that re- 
. mains of Lust and Treasure, to prove the impermanence of earthly 
things. 

Such lessons in worldly wisdom, that belong rather to the phi- 
losopher than to the preacher, could veer still further from the 
morality’s beaten path by dispensing altogether with allegory for 
situations and characters belonging strictly to farce. The author 
of Thersites, working on the idea that “the greatest boesters are 
not the greatest doers,” exhibits an arrant braggart, Herod-like 
in his vanity, terrified by a helpless snail, and sent whimpering 
behind his mother’s skirts by the threats of a single soldier. This 
modification of the norm resembles the type of play known in France 
as the Histoire, a narrative used to illustrate some particular truth 
or maxim of conduct.1. Such dramatic enforcement of homely pro- 
verb need not have departed from the old religious type. The 
late Elizabethan morality, The Longer Thou Livest the More Fool 
Thou Art, was a revision by Wager of some old, full-scope moral 
play. The hero, Moros, first appears as a mischievous boy, fond 
of games and boyish pranks and popular songs—‘a witlesse Boy, 
Singing and bellowing likea dawe.” For travestying the good lesson 
that Discipline would teach him, he is whipped several times. Then 
as he grows older, he leaves his idle pastimes, and, under the guid- 
ance of Idleness and Incontinence, gives himself up to gambling 
and vice. At this period of his life his friends are the papistical 
advisers, Ignorance and Fortune. Lastly he appears as an old man 
swearing vengeance on Discipline. But God’s Judgment, who oddly 
addresses the sinner first with the proverb that suggested the title, 
overcomes him, and Confusion carries him to the Devil. Wager 
in handling this proverb used the mold of the full-scope play, and 
wrote in the spirit of the school-dramatists to illustrate the need of 
discipline in the home and school. He shot his bolt, too, against 
Catholicism, at a time when Protestantism was in the ascendant, 
and when the Marian persecution was still fresh in men’s minds.” 
All this indicates that such lessons of worldly prudence might have 
been handled without sacrifice of moral purpose. That this and 
* other plays, therefore, do betray a weakening of religious spirit is 
proof that the days of the morality were numbered. 

To preserve some such vestige of the didactic purpose of the 
morality as that found in T7hersites, was second nature even to 
the direct imitators of Roman comedy. Calisto and Melbea, a play 





1 Mortensen, 127. 2 1361, 1512, 10e2e.7 Gee 


The English Moral Plays 399 


contemporaneous with many true moralities, presents the typical 
characters of Latin comedy: the hero, Calisto; the parasite, Sem- 
pronio; and the bawd, Celestina, from whose plot Melibcea barely 
escapes. But at the close the father delivers a long exhortation 
to virtue that would have done credit to the orthodox allegorical 
dramatic preacher. Still more directly the author of Jack Juggler 
borrowed from Roman comedy, taking from Plautus’ Amphitruo 
the complication caused by Sosia’s returning home to find, he be- 
lieves, his double awaiting him. In the English farce, the hero is 
fooled by his enemy, Jenkin Careaway, gets into trouble in conse- 
quence, and is of course beaten by his master. Yet after this rude 
horse-play comes the moral, to the effect that the world is full of 
deceit. Even the farce was fain to proffer a moral reason for its 
being. 

More freely, though, than in the classical imitations of the humanists, 
the elements of the disintegrating moral play merged in the home- 
bred dramatic products of the time. Two traces of the morality 
are prominent in A Merry Knack to Know a Knave. The Devil 
is brought into the action to claim the soul of the dying Bailiff of 
Hexam, and later to play the part of a human being; and an alle- 
gorical character, Honesty, serves as the connecting link between 
the scenes of the two plots. The main plot is historical, a royal 
romance such as Elizabethans were fond of, telling of King Edgar’s 
love for a maiden, Alfrida, and the faithlessness of the emissary 
whom he commissioned to do his courting. The second plot is 
satirical. Faithful Honesty, who has “the knack to know a knave,” 
discloses the dishonesty of various social types. The conny-catcher 
and the knight of the post in their perjury; the farmer who buys 
up corn for export, and thus oppresses the poor; the priest who 
refuses to help the needy; the courtier and king’s counselor who 
uses his office for self-aggrandizement, all are exposed for what they 
really are. Here, then, we have realistic comedy combined with 
a typical Elizabethan romance, bearing the marks of Euphuism in 
its language, and staged by Henslowe—in short, a typical Eliza- 
bethan play, preserving still the relics of the morality type. 

Similar survivals from the outworn medieval drama persisted in | 
early tragedy. In the old Roman legend of Appius and Virginia 
one unknown author saw not only “a rare example of the vertue 
of Chastitie,” but also the stuff of which real tragedy is made. He 
used it mainly to this end, emphasizing at the start the father’s 
premonitions of coming misfortune, the daughter’s confidence in her 
own strength, the tragic close of her life, and the punishment of 


400 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


the offenders, mingling with these motives, in the heartless Eliza- 
bethan way, low comedy and merry songs. Yet the tragedy still 
bears the vestiges of the earlier native drama. It is the Vice, 
Haphazard, who conceives the stratagem by which Appius gains 
his will, and allegorical characters accompany every step in the 
development of the plot. As Appius before the crime feels mis- 
givings in his heart, Conscience and Justice pass in dumb show 
across the stage, one holding in his hand a burning lamp, the 
other a sword. Immediately after, when Appius leaves the stage, 
both introduce themselves in the stereotyped manner. The agonized 
father is calmed by Comfort, and at the end punishment is meted 
out to Appius and Haphazard by Justice and Reward. Some last 
elimmerings, then, of the moral play are found in regular tragedy. 

In another tragedy, Cambyses, the allegorical characters prolong 
the note struck by the political Tudor moralities. The hero is a 
Tamburlaine who sends to death an unjust judge, orders the heart 
cut out of a little child before the father’s eyes, and then murders 
first his brother and then his wife. He himself, the victim of an 
accident, dies a sudden death. But in this tragedy, also, the alle- 
gorical characters of the morality appear. Ambidexter, the Vice, 
prompts the king to his first crimes; Commons’ Cry and Commons’ 
Complaint petition the king for redress; Murder and Cruelty are 
his hired assassins. Even this forerunner of Marlowe and the tragedy 
of blood preserved the elements of the disintegrated political mor- 
ality. 

With still less loss the determinative features of the typical moral- 
ity were carried over by Robert Wilson in that interesting comedy, 
The Cobler’s Prophesie, which belongs to the group of mythological 
plays so popular with the boys’ companies of the sixteenth century. 
After the style of Lyly, Wilson brings the story of the corruption 
of Boeotia and the Grecian gods to English soil. Mars has forsaken 
his manly prowess under the spell of his faithless wife, Venus, and 
all ranks of Boeotian society, save only the poor soldiery, have lost 
their virtue and honesty. Melpomene and Clio lay aside their pens, 
for no longer are there deeds of heroes to sing. All this evil has been 
caused by Contempt, who under the disguise of Content—an old 
motive of the moralities'—has debauched Venus, and degraded 
courtier, scholar, and squire. Here, then, is the Vice of the moral 
play acting his well-learned part in this mythological story, and 
with him as servants of Venus go other allegorical characters, 





1 See above, 370. 


The English Moral Plays 4014 


Nicenes, Dalliance, Jealozie, and Newfangle, the fashion-maker. But 
this strange tale of Boeotian life is colored to please the London 
populace. It is a simple cobbler, a character later exalted by 
Heywood and Rowley, whom Mercury selects to rouse Mars from 
his apathy. Ralph, it must be confessed, is not altogether a hero; 
he hides under the bed to escape his irate wife, he is befuddled 
in the wood by the mocking voice of Echo, and he is too conscious 
of his prophetic calling. He succeeds, however, in reaching the 
court of Mars, and rouses the god to war. Bceotia is invaded and 
conquered, and with the burning of the “cabbin” of Contempt, 
social order is restored. In short, The Cobler’s Prophesie is a play 
combining classical mythology to please the court with a typical 
Elizabethan appeal to the tradesmen; yet here again, at the end 
of the century, appear strongly the features of the morality play. 

Such survivals of the religious drama in these late composite plays 
could have no permanence. The moral play in England had en- 
joyed a long popularity, and, unchallenged by any regularly or- 
ganized secular drama such as existed in France at the opening of 
the fifteenth century, had long professed, if it did not actually show, 
a moral purpose. But in the last years of the sixteenth century 
didacticism and allegory on the stage had already passed their 
zenith, and soon succumbed before a type of play more truly dramatic 
both in substance and form. That fragments of the morality might 
find temporary lodgment in these farces and actual comedies and 
tragedies simply postponed, but did not prevent, the total dis- 
appearance of the dramatic species. How were either serious or 
corrupted dramatic homily to compete with the real comedy of 
Gammer Gurton’s Needle, or poor Honesty and his ilk with the 
familiar human characters of Greene and his contemporaries? So 
the morality disappeared, leaving only a reminiscence behind. The 
play, Sir Thomas More, written about the year 1590, and once 
attributed to Shakespeare, mentions a half dozen of the old morals, 
several of which still remain unknown. Falstaff alludes to the 
“dagger of lath” that the Vice carried, and to the ranting of the 
hero of King Cambyses.1_ Gossip Tattle bears witness to the pop- 
ularity of the Devil on the stage when she says: “My husband 
. .. Was wont to say, there was no Play, without a Foole, and a Diuell 
in’t; he was for the Diuell still, God blesse him. The Diuell for 
his money, would hee say, I would faine see the Diuell.”2 But in 





ieienry eyo Ae Lol. AD, 
* Staple of News, 1’st Intermean. 


402 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


another comedy Jonson treated the Vice as defunct, and satirized 
his old-time role. 


That's fifty yeeres agone, and six, 
(When euery great man had his Vice stand by him, 
In his long coat, shaking his wooden dagger), 


he wrote, and his conclusion was, 


We must therefore ayme 

At extraordinary subtill ones [Vices], now, 
When we doe send to keepe vs vp in credit. 
Not old Juquities. 


The Devil, who passes these strictures on his old companion, the 
Vice, counted evidently upon the audiences’ familiarity with the 
character, and on their sympathy with the new comedy of manners. 

Although the moral play died, leaving behind in regular dramatic 
literature only these few unimportant allusions, its influence must 
not be slighted. As the composite plays prove, no barrier ever 
existed between the old and the new. Elizabethan comedy had 
its roots in the by-play of the morality; early tragedy, even, might 
find scenes of pathos and tense interest in the religious play, and 
learn there the lesson of causality and the doctrine of the freedom 
of the will that form its basis. Moreover, the theatrical traditions 
of the Elizabethan age had their origin in the sacred drama. 
The old methods of organizing the companies, of staging the plays, 
and of costuming the actors, were carried on by the players of 
the secular drama. The audiences, too, trained to expect gross 
anachronism, and the mixture of comedy and tragedy, thought 
nothing of them in later times. Hence, although the abstractions 
of the old play were discarded by Elizabethan playwrights, and 
although allegorized precept gave place to concrete presentation 
of real life, the debt of the secular drama to the moral play is 
greater than any tangible evidence can show. 

But upon the religious life of the age, for whose advancement 
the moral play was first devised, there was left no such impress. 
The dramatists of the late period had been so engrossed with mirth 
and so neglectful of godliness, that the stage, except possibly in 
rural neighborhoods where non-professional methods still prevailed 
in occasional performances, had altogether ceased to be a week- 
day pulpit. Churchmen themselves really hastened the change by 
finding other and more naturally effective means of teaching moral- 





3 Devil is an Ass, 1. 1..83—85, 115-18. See also 1. 2. 30; 5..6. 


ies 


The English Moral Plays 403 


ity and religion. The sermon was given a new vitality and an 
extended influence by the Puritan divine; the works of practical 
piety that spread over England in dumpy little quartos taught every- 
day holiness; John Florio’s translation of Montaigne’s essays opened 
the way for the moral philosopher. The church, accordingly, no 
longer needed the service of the theater; the theater felt that it 
had outlived its indenture. There came, therefore, a re-division of 
labor in the literary world. The drama was given the task of public 
entertainment, and, at its best, of sound interpretation of life; the 
church assumed responsibility for the furtherance of godliness through 
the spoken and written word. The day of the moral play was over. 


Trans. Conn. Acap., Vol. X1V. 27 Marca, 1910. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY OF PLAYS.! 


Branpi, A. Quellen des Weltlichen Dramas in England vor Shakespeare. 
Strassburg, 1898. 

Dopstey, R. A Select Collection of Old English Plays. Revised, W. 
C. Hazlitt. 15 vols. London, 1874-76. 

Early English Dramatists. (E.E.D.) ed. J.S. Farmer. London, 1905 to date. 

GayLey, G. M. Representative English Comedies. New York, 1903. 

Jahrbuch der Deutschen Shakespeare-Gesellschaft. Berlin, 1864 to date. 

The Malone Society Reprints. ed. W. W. Greg. London, 1906 to date. 

Manty, J. M. Specimens of Pre-Shaksperean Drama. 2 vols. Boston, 
1897. 

Materialien zur Kunde des alteren Englischen Dramas. Begriindet und 
herausgegeben von W. Bang. Louvain, 1902 to date, 
Pottarp, A. W. English Miracle Plays, Moralities, and Interludes. 3’ed 

ed. Boston, 1898. 
The Tudor Facsimile Texts. (T.F.T.) ed. J. S. Farmer. London 1907 
to date. 
Albion Knight (a fragment). 1566. 
E.E.D. 1906. 
All For Money. T. Lupton. 1577. 
Halliwell-Phillips. The Literature of the Sixteenth and Seven- 
teenth Centuries Illustrated. London, 1851. 
*2. ed. E. Vogel. Jahrb. vol. 40. 1904. 
Ane Satyre of the Thrie Estaitis. D. Lyndsay. 1540. 
1. ed. D. Laing. Works of Lindsay. 2 vols. Edinburgh, 1871. 
*2. ed. F. Hall. Works of Lindsay. E.E.T.S.O.8. No. 37. London, 
1865--71. 
Appius and Virginia. R. Bower? 1575. 
*Dodsley. vol. 4. 
E.E.D. 1908. 
he 90s: 
Calisto and Melibcea (comedy) (before 1530). 
1. Dodsley. vol. 1. 
+2) BBD), 1905: 
3. Malone Society. 1908. 
ASR el g0o: 





1 This bibliography contains a list of the extant English moral plays, 
and of the principal editions in which they are accessible. An asterisk 
denotes the volumes referred to in the footnotes. Dates are approximate. 


i 


The English Moral Plays 405 


Cambises. T. Preston, 1569—70. 
Hawkins, T. Origin of the English Drama. vol.1. 3 vols. Oxford, 
1773. 
The Castle of Perseverance (as early as 1450). 
*1. ed. F. Furnivall and A. Pollard. E.E.T.S. London, 1904. 
Se. 1908: 
3. Pollard. A portion of the play. 
The Cobler’s Prophesie. R. Wilson. 1595. 
ed. W. Dibelius. Jahrb. vol. 33. 1897. 
The Conflict of Conscience. N. Woodes. 1581. 
Dodsley. vol. 6. 
The Contention between Liberality and Prodigality. 
Dodsley. vol. 8, 
The Contract of Mariage between Wit and Wisdome. 
1. ed. J. O. Halliwell. Old Shakespeare Society. London, 1846. 
*2, E.E.D. 1908. 
The Disobedient Child. T. Ingeland. 1570. 
1. Dodsley. vol. 2. 
*2. H.E.D. 1905. 
3.- 0.1. 1908. 
The Nature of the Four Elements. J. Rastell. c. 1517. 
1. Dodsley. vol. 1. 
2. ed. J. Fischer. Marburger Studien. Marburg, 1903. 
*3. E.E.D. 1905. 
A BD - 1908; 
Freewill. Henry Cheke (trans.). 1561. (Not examined.) 
The Glasse of Gouernement. R. Gascoigne. 1575. 
The Complete Poems of George Gascoigne. vol. 2. ed. W. C. Haz- 
litt. 2 vols. London, 1870. 
Godly Queen Hester. 
1. Ed. J. P. Collier, Illustrations of Early English Popular Litera- 
ture. London, 1863, 
2. ed. A. B. Grosart. Miscellanies of the Fuller Worthies Library. 
London, 1873. 
*3. Materialien zur Kunde. 1904. 
*4, K.E.D, 1906. 
Hickscorner. c. 1510. 
1. Dodsley. vol. 1. 
2. Manly. vol. 1. 
*3. H.E.D. 1905. 
4,70 EE. 1908: 
Impatient Poverty. 1560. 
1. E.E.D. 1907. 
2 BT. A907. 
Jack Juggler. c. 1553. 


406 °- Elbert N. S. Thompson 


1. Dodsley. vol. 2. 

*2. E.E.D. 1906. 
John the Evangelist. 

See Saint John the Evangelist. 
King Darius. Revised, c. 1565. 


*1. Brandl. 
A WIPED IG Oyey 
By MMMM | ALSTONre, 


King John. J. Bale. c. 1540. 
*1. Manly. vol. 1. 
2. H.E.D. 1907. 
The Life and Repentaunce of Marie Magdalene. Lewis Wager. 1567. 
*1. ed. F. I. Carpenter. Chicago, 1904. 
250.2), 1908: 
Like Will to Like, Quoth the Devil to the Collier. U. Fulwell. pr. 1568. 
1. Dodsley. vol. 3. 
*2, H.E.D. 1906. 
Bs LET 1909: 
The Longer Thou Livest, the More Fool Thou Art. W. Wager. pr. 1570. 
ed. A. Brandl. Jahrb. vol. 36. 1900. 
Lusty Juventus. (Reign of Henry VIII.) 
1. Dodsley. vol. 2. 
*2. H.E.D. 1905. 
SEE 1S 0e 
Magnificence. J. Skelton. 1515. 
1. ed. A. Dyce. Poetical Works of Skelton. 3 vols. Boston and 
New York, 1862. 
*2. ed. R. L. Ramsay. E.E.T.S. London, 1908. 
Mankind. Before 1483. (Schelling, 1.56, n.) 
1. Manly, vol. 1. 
2. Brandl. 
*3. ed. F. Furnivall and A. Pollard. E.E.T.S. London, 1904. 
4. E.E.D. 1907. 
o: TE yor 
The Marriage of Wit and Science. 1569. 
*1. Dodsley. vol. 2. 
2. E.E.D. 1908. 
Dae LE Le aL OOS: 
Mary Magdalene. 
1. ed. T. Sharp. Digby Mysteries. London, 1835. 
*2. ed. F. Furnivall. New Shakespeare Society. London, 1882. 
A Merry Knack to Know a Knave. 1592. 
Dodsley. vol. 6. 
Mind, Will, and Understanding. See Wisdom Who Is Christ. 
Misogonus. 1560. 
1. Brandl. 


Pa 


The English Moral Plays 407 


*2. E.E.D. 1906. 
Mundus et Infans. See The World and the Child. 
Nature. H. Medwell. 1486—1500. 
*1. Brandl. 
2. E.E.D. 1907. 
3. T.F.T. 1908. 
New Custom. pr. 1573. 
*1. Dodsley. vol. 3. 
2. E.E.D. 1906. 
3. T.F.T. 1908. 
Nice Wanton. 1560. 
1. Dodsley. vol. 2. 
2. Manky- vol: 1. 
*3, E.E.D. 1905. 

4, T.F.T. 1909. 

The Play of the Sacrament (miracle-play). 
1. ed. W. Stokes. Transactions of the Philological Society. London, 
1860-61. Appendix. 
2. Manly. vol. 1. 
The Pride of Life (a fragment). 1400? 

*1. Brandl. 

2. ed. O. Waterhouse. H.E.T.S. London, 1909, 
Respublica. 1553. 

*1, Brandl. 

2. ed. L. A. Magnus. E.E.T.S. London, 1905. (The best critical 
edition.) 

3. E.E.D. 1907. 

AT E.T. 1908. 

Saint John the Evangelist. 
1. Malone Society. 1907. 
*2. E.E.D. 1907. 

ao 190%: 

Somebody, Avarice, and Minister (a fragment). 

Maitland, S. R. A List of Some of the Early Printed Books in 
the Archi-episcopal Library at Lambeth. London, 1843, (Not 
examined.) 

The Summoning of Everyman. pr. 1509—30. 

1. Dodsley. vol. 1. 

2. ed: W. W. Greg. Materialien zur Kunde. 1909. 

*3. E.E.D. 1905. 

The Three Ladies of London. 1584. 

Dodsley, vol. 6. 

A Comedy Concerning Three Laws. J. Bale. pr. 1538. 

1. ed. A. Schroer. Anglia. vol. 5. 1882. 

*2. E.E.D. 1907. 

fon fe T., “1908: 


408 Elbert N. S. Thompson 


The Three Lords and the Three Ladies of London. 1590. 
Dodsley. vol. 6. 
The Tide Tarrieth No Man. G. Wapull. pr. 1578. 
ed. E. Rithl. Jahrb. vol. 48. 1907. 
Tom Tiler and His Wife, 1540, 
1. ed. F. E. Schelling. Publ. of Mod. Lang. Assoc. of America. 
vol. 15. 1900. 
*2. E.E.D. 1906. 
The Trial of Treasure. 
1. Dodsley. vol. 3. 
2. E.E.D. 1906. 
oe AL 1908. 
Wealth and Health. 
[ee 190e 
2. TD 1907s. 
3. ed. P. Simpson. Malone Society. 1907. 
4, ed. F. Holthausen. Festschrift der Universitat Kiel. 1908. 
Wisdom Who Is Christ (before 1512). 
*1, ed. F. Furnivall and A. Pollard. E.E.T.S. London, 1904. 
2 Ra LOOT 
Wit and Science. John Redford. 1540. 
1. ed. J. O. Halliwell-Phillips. Old Shakespeare Society. London, 
1848. 
2, Manly. vol. 1. 
*3, H.E.D. 1907. 
A a 0s: 
The World and the Child. pr. 1522. 
1. Dodsley. vol. 1. 
2. Manly. vol. 1. 
+3. EHD, al90b! 
The Enterlude of Youth. 1500—1525. 
1. Dodsley. vol. 2. 
2. ed. W. Bang and R. B. McKerrow. Materialien zur Kunde. 1905. 
*3. E.ED. 1906. 
Aa OOS: 


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Traver, H. The Four Daughters of God. Bryn Mawr College Mono- 
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TREVELYAN, G. M. England in the Age of Wycliffe. New York, 1899. 

Trouvéres Belges (Nouvelle Série). ed. A. Scheler. Louvain, 1879. 

Vices and Virtues, Being a Soul’s Confession. ed. F. Holthausen. E.E.T.S. 
London, 1888. 

Waostein, E. Die Eschatologische Ideengruppe: Antichrist— Weltsabbat. 
—Weltende und Weltgericht. In Zeitschrift fiir Wissenschaft- 
liche Theologie. 39. 79-157. 1896. 

Watzsu, J. J. The Thirteenth, Greatest of Centuries, New York, 1908. 

Warp, A. W. A History of English Dramatic Literature. 3 vols. 
London, 1899. 

York Plays. ed. L. T. Smith. Oxford, 1885. 

York Records. Extracts from the Municipal Records of the City of 
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TRANSACTIONS OF THE 


CONNECTICUT ACADEMY OF ARTS AND SCIENCES 


INCORPORATED A. D. 1799 








VOLUME 14, PAGES 445-466. APRIL, 1910 





The Accentual Cursus 
in Byzantine Greek Prose 


with 


Especial Reference to Procopius 
of Czesarea 


BY 


HENRY BRONSON DEWING, Ph.D. 


PUBLISHED UNDER THE AUSPICES OF 


YALE UNIVERSITY 


4 .NO 





1910 





mf 
ie 








Part I.—BreuioGRAPHICAL. 


The suggestion which paved the way for the discovery of the 
Cursus Law in Byzantine Greek prose was made by P. Edmond 
Bouvy, Poétes et Mélodes. Etudes sur les origines du rhythme 
tonique dans Vhymnographie de l'Eglise Grecque; Nimes 1886. 
Bouvy, while searching in the dark for a law which would account 
for the characteristic rhythm of the Greek prose of the Byzantine 
period, noticed the common occurrence of an accentual dactyl at 
the close of sentence members; that is, such words as «ydowzos, 
ehehvzeocy Often stand in this position. This seemed to him to be 
the essential characteristic of the language in question, and he 
suggested that a final accentual dactyl should be considered the 
fundamental element in the clausule of the rhythmical prose of 
writers from the fourth century on. He noticed further the striking 
circumstance that in a large number of cases the final accentual 
dactyl is preceded by another accentual dactyl, making altogether 
an accentual dactylic dipody. 

Wilhelm Meyer saw that the suggested law of the final accentual 
dactyl offered no satisfactory solution, simply because not a single 
writer could be found whose language followed such a law with 
any regularity. But the incidental observation made by Bouvy that 
the final accentual dactyl was often preceded by another suggested 
to Meyer that the first dactyl, and not the final one was the essen- 
tial factor. It was soon apparent that he had the key to the 
situation, and starting from this, he discovered the law which has 
since borne his name. 

Meyer’s statement of his discovery appeared in 1891: Der ac- 
centuierte Satzschlusz in der byzantinischen Prosa vom 4. bis 16. 


Jahrhundert. The law is formulated in the following terms: Die 


Silben, welche einer Sinnespause unmittelbar vorangehen, sollen 
einen bestimmten Tonfall haben; hiebei soll aber nicht die Lange 
oder Kiirze der Silben, sondern nur der Wortaccent beriicksichtigt 
werden; und zwar sollen vor der letzten Hebung der Art mindestens 
2 Senkungen stehen, wie ézcvtay cv dodawy ; nach der letzten Hebung 
kann stehen was will; also: dreséyovrae cv dowmnor. unavtoy avioonay. 
a : ; : 
GMCS OO oC. OOpLay Thu. 

It is noted that different writers seem to follow different prin- 
ciples in treatment of clausule before weak punctuation, some 


418 H. B. Dewing, 


observing the rule carefully at the stronger pauses only. In this 
connection it is remarked very justly that the condition of the 
text is a matter of great importance in the case of any writer 
whose clausule are studied. 

In the reading of clausulz such words as the article, conjunctions 
or adverbs (Hilfsworter der Sprache) are treated either as accented 
or unaccented according to the situation in which they stand. So 
the following cases are cited from Synesius as regular: xate§aviorn 
tot madous. qv xal avéyeoov. Moeooneoovtas ovx yveyxev. Tatety vm0 Aiwvos. 
ddeapovv toy Iodewv. avdayou tov Adyou. pact thy xapdiay. Enthadéctae ue 
oléy te. The cases cited would excite little scepticism, but there 
was need to define very carefully exactly what “ Hilfsworter” can 
be so treated, because scholars could not readily agree on just 
what words in Greek do bear a weak spoken accent. 

Meyer makes much of the secondary accent. There must be one 
present in such cases, he says, as émavte grdotewoduevos, in the very 
nature of things, and the use of the secondary accent to mark the 
thesis in accentual poetry shows this factor to have been a real 
one in spoken Greek, just as it is in any language where accent 
is a matter of stress. This is reasonable enough, but Meyer intro- 
duces the secondary accent into his clausulz in a quite arbitrary 


way. For example: “ou Shi méol a Evuooas. TLVL pelotipotmeeee 
Duniraniccey: av pavnvee. The uncommon occurrence of the form 
énuwécae mooehouevos is explained as due to the presence of a secon- 
dary accent on the middle one of the three unaccented syllables, 
thus making the clausula equivalent to ——— ——(——). Whether 
this be the correct explanation or not, it is one of the weak points 
of Meyer’s statement that he does not mark off this form of clausula 
from the rest as irregular. That these cases with three syllables 
in arsi! do occur is justified by a supposed “ falscher Nebenaccent” 
which stands on the first of the three syllables instead of on the 


second, as it normally would, thus: pied évecuévos. But this pro- 
cedure can not deserve serious consideration. 

As a result of admitting free play of the secondary accent in 
clausule Meyer goes to the extreme of counting perfectly normal 
only that form which has two syllables in arsi. He is too reckless 
in abandoning written accents and reading this form into all such 





1 Arsis is used here and in the following to denote all the syllables 


without ictus standing between two spoken accents, ‘zes?s to denote the 


two stressed syllables between which are included the syllables forming 
the arsis. 


(i 


Accentual Cursus in Byzantine Greek Prose. 419 


cases as the following: ureidow encoteatetourtos. nenoinzey inoyeiou. 
He instances Sophronius as a writer who consistently showed this 
form by written accents without the aid of a secondary accent, but 
adds that such writing is very rarely found. 

Meyer’s article is carefully reviewed by Louis Havet, Revue 
Critique 32 (1891), p. 207. The weakness of Meyer’s treatment of 
the form ————-—(—-—) 1s plainly brought out by Havet, who 
justly criticises Meyer’s confusion of certainly correct with question- 
able clausule. 

Other shorter notices by Jacob Wackernagel, Beitrage zur Lehre 
vom griechischen Akzent, Universitatsprogramm, Basel 1893, p. 7, 
and Gustav Meyer, Berliner philol. Wochenschrift, 1892, p. 182, ex- 
press unqualified approbation of the accentual law. Wackernagel 
finds the use of the grave accent in clausulz supporting his theory 
that this accent mark had come to indicate a stress simply without 
distinction from the acute or circumflex (p. 7). Indeed it would 
seem to be a general assumption that all kinds of accent are used 
indifferently and without distinction in the thesis of clausule1!; yet 
detailed statistics are required to make the situation absolutely 
certain, since there is no a priori reason for believing that already 
in the fourth century A.D. a grave accent had ceased to be distin- 
guished in value from an acute or circumflex, and that an acute and 
circumflex were merely different signs for the same stress accent, 
as they are in Modern Greek. Here the question may be stated in 
perfectly definite terms: do the writers who observe Meyer’s law 
use the grave, acute and circumflex indifferently in their clausule ? 

A detailed test of the law is offered by Curtius Kirsten, Quaes- 
tiones Choricianae (Breslauer philol. Abhandlungen, Band 7, Heft 2, 
1894), Pars Tertia, p. 36. The law of Meyer is adopted 7m foto 
by Kirsten, and the clausule all counted with a view to deter- 
mining the exact extent of the cursus law’s application in Choricius. 
Although only two percent of the total number are found irregular, 
Kirsten is unwilling to agree with Meyer’s statement that Choricius 
follows the law throughout: “Faveri videtur ‘legi’ Meyerianae”’; 
and he is unwilling to admit the test of the cursus law as a cri- 
terion in restoring Choricius’ text. Kirsten further criticises Meyer’s 
statement as to the treatment of ‘“Hilfswérter” in clausule, and 
very fairly declines to extend the same license without reserve to 
all adverbs and pronouns. Meyer’s doctrine of the secondary accent 
is strongly criticised. 





1 Cf. Litzica, Das Meyerische Satzschlussgesetz, p. 9, n. 2. 


420 H. B. Dewing, 


Kirsten set forth in detail the different varieties of hiatus found 
in Choricius (Pars Altera, p. 25), but he goes no further than the 
manuscript tradition except in rare cases, and leaves out of account 
the question whether such cases of hiatus as dé jv were not uniformly 
avoided by elision in speaking or reading. This is an important 
question in reading clausule, because the number of syllables in 
arsi is reduced by one if elision be admitted in such a case as 
tote O& HV. 

A test was made by K. Krumbacher, Ein Dithyrambus auf den 
Chronisten Theophanes (Sitzungsbericht der k. bayer. Akad. d. Wiss. 
1896, p. 583), and Eine neue Vita des Theophanes Confessor (same 
publication 1897, p. 371), which is of especial interest from the 
paleographical standpoint. Two punctuated manuscripts came 
under his observation in the study of these works, and he counted 
the clausule before all the periods indicated in the two manuscripts 
with a result decidedly favorable to Meyer’s law (p. 598 ff.); in 
one case (a Munich manuscript), from a total of 256 cases, 239 were 
found regular as understood by Meyer, as against 17 irregular; in 
the other case (a Moscow manuscript), a total of 330 cases con- 
tained 286 regular, as against 44 irregular. It is observed that the 
manuscripts of the accentual Church poetry of Byzantine times use 
the same signs in marking verse endings as those found in these two 
manuscripts. Yet too much stress should not be laid on these 
marks as indicating the cola of rhythmical prose because punctuation 
is found in manuscripts of prose writers who lived before the cursus 
law existed. The practice in the use of commas in these two 
manuscripts is noteworthy ; Krumbacher finds them used both to mark 
genuine sense pauses between clauses, and also in cases where no 
pause can be intended, but where the mark of punctuation can be 
of assistance to the eye in reading; for example, a comma is found 
after o uéy. In this latter case the comma can not be considered 
as marking a rhythmical clausula, though it does in the former. 

In the year following Krumbacher’s second article an attempt 
was made to define still more accurately Meyer’s Jaw by Konstantin 
Litzica, Das Meyerische Satzschlussgesetz in der Byzantinischen 
Prosa; mit einem Anhang tiber Prokop von Kdsarea, Miinchen 1898. 
Litzica rightly maintains that some definite criterion must be 
furnished for the detection of the cursus and the classification of 
writers according as they observe the law closely, or carelessly, 
or not at all. The first test is derived from a mathematical com- 
putation of the possibilities of the language itself. For this pur- 
pose a typical writer was chosen—Leontius of Naples (7 cen- 


is 


Accentual Cursus in Byzantine Greek Prose. 421 


tury)—and from his language a calculation was made of the total 
number of possible regular cases, and of possible irregular cases. 
This was done in the following way: a word accented on the first 
syllable such as «ewes, if preceded by an oxytone or paroxytone, 
makes an irregular form, but a regular form is produced if it be 
preceded by a proparoxytone!; a word accented on the second 
syllable such as oxomds combined with a preceding oxytone makes 
an irregular form, while any other possible accent on the preceding 
word makes a regular form; then words accented on the third 
syllable such as yevee, or on the fourth or fifth or sixth or seventh, 
may be preceded by any accent at all without producing a form 
which violates Meyer’s law. All words may now be classed ac- 
cording as they bear an accent on the first syllable, second syllable, 
and so on—seven classes. Then they may be again classed ac- 
cording to the position of the accent relative to the end of the 
word—three classes: (1) oxytone, (2) paroxytone, (3) proparoxytone. 
Then from the numbers of these two sets of classes may be com- 
puted the total number of possible regular forms, and the total 
number of possible irregular forms. Since monosyllables and ‘“ some 
dissyllables ” do not seem admissible in the reckoning on the same 
basis as polysyllabic words, they are temporarily left out of account. 
The sum total of all possible clausule resulting from every possible 
arrangement of the 12,172 words counted was 148, 157,564. Of 
these the total of possible regular forms was 95,083,089, and of 
irregular forms 53,074,475. Finally, in order to take account of 
the monosyllables, (where the written accent “gar nicht helfen 
kann”), all the clausulz in the same Life of Leontius are counted, 
and the cases containing monosyllables (834 in all) divided into 
regular (308) and irregular (26) forms. Then these percentages 
(92.22 °', regular and 7.78 °/, irregular) are added to the corresponding 
percentages of the possible forms in polysyllabic words: 


64.17 + 92.22 = 156.39 regular. 
35.83 + 7.78 = 43.61 irregular. 


These results divided by two give the following result: 78.195 °), 
regular; 21.805°/) irregular. Litzica concludes thus: Die mittel- 
griechische Sprache ist so beschaffen, dass sie zwischen den siamt- 
lichen Wortcombinationen das Verhaltniss von ungefaihr 80 dem 
Meyerischen Gesetz nach regelmassigen, gegen 20 unregelmassige 
darbietet. This, then, constitutes a test whereby a writer’s language 





* Litzica includes perispomena under oxytones, properispomena under 
paroxytones. ; 


422 H. B. Dewing, 


may be judged; if his clausule show no more than 80 regular 
cases out of every 100, he can not be said to observe any law, 
because there must be at least 80 regular from mere accident. 
This result would be a welcome help in the study of the cursus if 
it were convincing, but it can not be accepted as the correct one; 
in the first place, the monosyllables were reckoned with only in 
clausule, while the polysyllabic words throughout the sentence 
were included in the computation; in the second place, all cases 
with 3 or 5 syllables in arsi are counted on the regular side. This 
will be shown later to be absolutely wrong. 

Litzica seeks a second means of detecting the presence of the 
accentual cursus by a comparison by statistics of the percentage 
of regular forms found in classic writers with that found in those | 
writers in which the law seems to be operative. Tests in different 
writers are found to give the following result: Lysias 73 °/) regular; 
Demosthenes 69°/) regular; Polybius 85°/) regular; Dionysius of 
Halicarnassus 82°/) regular; Josephus 84 °/) regular; Plutarch 85 °/) 
regular; Lucian 75°/, regular; Aelius Aristides 80°/) regular. All 
these writers show a clear majority of cases regular. Tests are 
also made of Greek later than the Byzantine period as follows: 
Korais, Autobiography 88 °/, regular ; Georgios Mistriotes, President’s 
speech, 1891, 87°/, regular; in the leading article of the newspaper 
Acropolis, April 1, 1896, 86 °/) regular. These figures taken together 
show that the Greek language of every period contained many 
more clausulz of Meyer’s regular forms than of the irregular forms. 
This method of defining the cursus is surely the right one, but 
Litzica fails again in that he consistently counts regular all those 
cases in which 3 or 5 syllables stand in arsi. Then there follows 
an account of tests made in 44 different Greek writers from the 
fourth to the fifteenth century, with a table showing the relative 
standing of all the writers tested according to their tolerance of 
irregularity in the application of the law. Three classes of writers 
are now distinguished: (1) those who followed the law closely, 
allowing 5 °/) or less of irregularity—18 writers; (2) a middle class 
who allowed between 5°/) and 10°/) of irregularity—3 writers; (3) 
those who allow more than 10°/) of irregularity are considered as 
knowing nothing of a cursus law—23 writers. 

This classification shows about half the writers tested to be 
outside the influence of Meyer’s law. This fact leads Litzica to 
protest against Meyer’s position that there is any law existent. 
The law, he maintains, is not universal in that it does not control 
all the writers of the period, nor is it universal in any single 


Accentual Cursus tn Byzantine Greek Prose. 423 


writer. What we have is merely an artistic device, a rhetorical 
trick which was used or disregarded at will. 

A later publication which makes use of the law is by Paul Maas, 
Rhythmisches zu der Kunstprosa des Konstantinos Manasses (By- 
zantinische Zeitschrift 11, 1902, p. 305). The law is stated by Maas 
with a very significant modification of the form in which it was 
previously stated by Meyer and received by Litzica: between the 
last two accents only an even number of syllables may stand. This 
leaves the type with 3 and 5 syllables in arsi among the irregular 
clausule. The importance of this will appear presently. Maas re- 
marks on the difficulty of punctuating in accordance with the 
cursus; the ordinary placing of commas in Greek texts seems in 
general correct, but there seems reason to doubt whether a comma 
should be permitted before a relative sentence, since a regular 
clausula is often not to be found in that position.! 


Parr I1.—Tuse Law ItTsewr. 


When Meyer formulated the cursus law, he wrote with his at- 
tention fixed on the rhythmical prose itself; he neglected to justify 
his statement of the law by a careful and detailed comparison 
with prose in which such a rhythm does not exist. The general 
characteristics of the accentual cursus struck him so forcibly that 
he failed to see more than two fundamental facts: the preponde- 
rance of a form having two syllables in arsi, and the constant 
avoidance of forms having no syllables or one syllable in arsi. 
Hence his statement of the law that two or more syllables must 
stand in arsi. The law thus stated includes too much, since forms 
which do not in any sense characterize the cursus are massed 
together with the really characteristic forms. Obviously the only 
satisfying method of finding out exactly what is characteristic of 
the accentual prose rhythm is a comparison by individual forms of 
clausulaee between writers who show a cursus and writers who do 
not. Meyer readily saw that the form having three syllables in 





1 The accentual cursus law is incidentally noted in Norden, Kunst- 
prosa; Krumbacher, Geschichte der Byzantinischen Litteratur; Havet, 
Cours élémentaire de métrique grecque et latin. Important works on 
the Latin accentual cursus which treat incidentally of the law in Greek 
are: Havet, La prose métrique de Symmache, 1892; W. Meyer, Die 
rhythmische lateinische Prosa (Gétt. gelehrte Anzeigen 1893), reprinted 
in Gesammelte Abhandlungen zur mittellateinischen Rhythmik 1905, 
vol. II. 


424 H. B. Dewing, 


arsi was only admitted on sufferance, but he left this matter in such 
a form that all who have since used the law in Greek prose, with 
the single exception of Maas, have adopted the law in a form which 
counts this form just as regular as the form with four syllables in 
arsi. The very fact that form 31 is less common than form 4 
arouses suspicion, since form 3 may reasonably be expected to be 
more common than form 4 in clausule where no law regulates the 
position of word accents. Here it should be noted that the Latin 
accentual cursus uniformly avoids form 32; the Latin law is the law 
stated by Maas: only an even number of syllables can stand in arsi. 

It has been made practically certain that the Latin accentual . 
cursus was a direct development of the earlier quantitative cursus 
used by such writers as Pliny.® It is interesting to note that for 
Symmachus and all other writers for centuries following Havet con- 
siders the quantitative cursus fundamental, and indeed denies that 
any accentual cursus as such existed before the twelfth century 
A.D., while Meyer holds that the accentual cursus was already 
plainly present towards the end of the fourth century, and gradually 
supplanted the quantitative cursus. If, then, this accentual cursus 
which seems to be common to Latin and Greek prose of the same 
period is a historical development from the Latin word accents 
in the quantitative cursus, this fact would seem to preclude the 
possibility of an independent origin for the Greek accentual cursus *; 
but the details of usage must be worked out in each language 
separately. The points of divergence as well as the points of con- 
tact must be defined. 

Since the question of possible forms is made perfectly clear by 
a simple test, we need not delay longer over generalizations. The 
convincing test desired consists, as suggested above, in a detailed 
comparison by statistics of writing where the accentual cursus 





1 The clausule are classed and referred to as follows: 
Form 0 (no syllables in arsi) woecBeutny &BhEenov 


Form 1 (1 syllable oy ) Mexoee doviov 

Form 2 (2 syllables ,,  ,, ) mooteiverae doyous (regular) 

Form 3 (8 4 » oy) ELS EDapos xatEther 

Form 4 (4 yay) OTL TeyLoTH anchhcooeodct (regular) 
Form 5 (5 5 4») Moke Yeyvurcousrvwy 


Form 6 (6 a » os :+) €medevetuEvor Tois vmolvyiot 

* Cf. Havet, Symmachus, § 19. 

* Cf. Havet, Symmachus; and W. Meyer, Die rhythmische lateini- 
sche Prosa. 


* Cf. against this view G. L. Hendrickson, Am. Journ. Phil. 29 (1908) p.280. 


Accentual Cursus in Byzantine Greek Prose. 425 


rhythm is present with writing in which such a rhythm can not 
exist.! Such a test must be made with absolutely nothing taken 
for granted; every clausula must be counted and classified, not 
merely as regular or irregular, but according to its form: 0, 1, 2, 
3, 4, 5, 6. Further, no deviation must be admitted from the 
traditional written accents of the grammarians. This will certainly 
introduce a slight error, but this error can be corrected with the 
help of what appears certain after a preliminary attempt has made 
general principles clear. Every scholar can satisfy himself, but no 
one else, as to just what monosyllables can stand in arsi. Whose 
understanding of the matter can be confidently adopted when all 
disagree? It is far more satisfying and convincing to stick to the 
grammatical accents in marking out the general lines which the 
cursus follows. Everything is thus made definite and open, and the 
influence of subjective feeling completely eliminated. If the written 
accents alone can be found to distinguish cursus writers from others, 
then a vast deal is gained, and we may start from a plain scientific 
fact to work out details of usage. In the following count, therefore, 
every written accent is counted of equal value, whether it stand 
on a conjunction, preposition, noun or any other word, and whether 
it be grave, acute or circumflex. The different kinds of accent must 
be separated ultimately, and the question of their relative importance 
answered. Since this is a question of detail, it may be disregarded 
for the present. Further, although the cursus law is observed be- 
fore every sense pause, we can not be sure that our commas mark 
the pauses as understood by the Greeks themselves, and must 
begin by counting only the pauses before the stronger marks of 
punctuation—the period, colon and interrogation point. The writers 
chosen for comparison on this basis are the historian Zosimus 
(5 century) and Demosthenes, the passages being chosen at 
random, and the clausulaz counted consecutively. The figures are 
striking and can best be shown on a chart (p. 426). The forms of 
clausule found with greatest frequency in Zosimus are those desig- 
nated as 2 and 4, while forms 1, 3, 5 and 6 are strikingly rare; 





* In Greek we may feel on perfectly sure ground in comparing writers 
who wrote in an accentual cursus with those who have a quantitative 
cursus, if the theory of Havet and Meyer is true as to the origin of the 
Latin accentual cursus. The case is not as it would be in Latin where 
the comparison would be between earlier and later stages of a con- 
tinuous development, for the word accents of the Greek quantitative 
clausulee should contain no suggestion of the accents of the accentua! 
cursus. 


H. B. Dewing, 


426 
form 0 seems to be favored above 14, 3, 5 and 6, but this result 
On the other hand, the 


will later appear to have been abnormal. 

arrangement of written accents in the clausulze of Demosthenes is 

plainly an accidental one; there is no design apparent in his usage; 
This test is in itself too 


there 7s design in the usage of Zosimus. 






































Form Form Form Form Form Form Form 
0 1 2 3 4 5 6 
609), 
i 
a 
FY | 
i|\ 
malic | 
50 °/g | Hae | | 
1 \ 
40 °/, abe ie | a 
! PLES 
elas 
Lm. Me iN \ 
30 /, Jas nea ea 
alae Neh 
af fi \\ 
Zap, ia n al 
Wh f 
10°, re 
aca re 

















—-——-—— Demosthenes Androtion, ed. Blass. 
w= = 255-55 Zosimus IIT in Corpus Ser. Hist. Byz. 
Dem. Zos. 
Form 0 15.0+ 8.0 + 
3) Lesbos tA 
9 OE O ate 58.5 + 
yy OHIO ET Beye 
5 a tesa 21.4 -- 
aya IGS) S b+ 
tot = 


6 


0 


“Ska! - 


ee ee eee 


a 


Accentual Cursus in Byzantine Greek Prose. 427 


limited in scope to form even a safe starting point. To make 
sure similar counts were made in Zonaras (12 century), and in 
Lysias and Pausanias. The test shows even more. plainly than 
before the presence of a law in Zonaras of which Lysias and 
Pausanias knew nothing. There appear in the clausule of Zonaras 








Form Form Form Form Form Form Form 
0 1 2 8 A 5 6 
60°, ape 


40 °/o 








30 °/, 











20 °/, 





10 %Jo | 














Zonaras I in Corpus Scr. Hist. Byz. 


—--——-— lLysias Mantitheus, The Grain Dealers, Nicomachus, ed. 
Thalheim. 
alt Pausanias V, in., ed. Spiro. 


Zon. Lys. Paus. 

Porm, 0) 11.5 9.4 + 14.4 + 
a tubes: Bet 24.3 + 28.8 + 

oe es AON 27.8 + 24.0 + 
ees SPE BO se 20.9 +- 18.2 + 

ae OB 13.2 + 11.5+ 

een Gs “3.44 2.8 + 

620 1.2+ 0 


428 H. B. Dewing, 


75 + /) of the preferred forms, while the remaining 24 -+ °/, fall 
into the avoided forms (five in all), while in Demosthenes, Lysias 
and Pausanias the percentage of these preferred forms (of Zosimus 
and Zonaras) falls considerably below 50 °/o. 

These comparisons show a striking contrast between the two kinds 
of prose, and the characteristics of the accentual cursus are per- 
fectly evident. It is not merely true that writers who use the cursus 
‘avoid forms 0 and 1, but also forms 8 and 5. As to what the law in 
general is there can be no doubt; the figures of themselves are 
convincing. Assuming nothing more than what is plainly demon- 
strated, the law may be stated in negative form thus: The cursus 
law requires that forms 0, 1, 3 and 5 be avoided. The original 
statement by Meyer must be revised; form 3 is as certainly avoided 
as form 1. Exactly the same forms are avoided as in the Latin 
cursus. This is no mere trivial correction, as may be readily seen 
by returning to Litzica’s work. 

In the first place, his mathematical computation of the possibilities 
of the language of Leontius gives an entirely different result when 
forms 3 and 5 are counted among irregular clausule as they must 
be. Counting thus the following result is obtained: out of a pos- 
sible total of 148, 157,564, only 61, 161,874 regular combinations are 
possible—that is, less than half. The proposed test of 90/9 re- 
eularity for writers who have a cursus falls absolutely to the ground. 
The total of regular cases which may be expected where no law 
is present is really 50°/) or less, not 80°/, as Litzica holds. 

The other point in which Litzica arrived at a wrong result through 
his misunderstanding of the law is in the comparisons made between 
prose which conforms to Meyer’s law and that which does not. 
He finds 69°/) regular in Demosthenes, as against 95.35 °/) in Zosi- 
mus; this presupposes only forms 0 and 1 irregular. Now if the 
percentage of forms 3 and 5 are subtracted from this estimate, 
Demosthenes falls to 47 °/, regular, with a loss of 22°/), while Zosi- 
mus loses no more than 4.5°/) and still stands above 90°/) in reg- 
ularity.' The mere fact that the loss by excluding these forms is 
so different in the two cases is of itself convincing. The same 
striking contrast can be pointed out between other writers: for ex- 
ample, of the 3 and 5 form together there are found 24.3°/9 in 
Lysias, as against 4°/) in Zonaras. The contrast in the 3 and 5 


1 These figures show results when written accents are treated as 
Litzica does—counting out the article etc.—in order to have a safe basis 
of comparison with his results. 


Accentual Cursus in Byzantine Greek Prose. 429 


forms is scarcely less marked than in the 0 and 4 forms: Demosthenes 
has 25.2°/, of 0 and 1 forms in the entire oration On the Crown 
(ed. Blass), while Zosimus III has 4.2 °/) of the same forms. If forms 0 
and 4 are irregular, then forms 3 and 6 are certainly so. It is there- 
fore evident that by including forms 3 and 5 as regular in such 
comparisons Litzica made all his conclusions useless. The law loses 
half its meaning by a comparison on this basis. It is rather one 
of the characteristic marks of the cursus rhythm that forms 3 and 5 
are avoided. 

It has been suggested by Paul Maas! that form 6, when it occurs, 
should be counted as regular as forms 2 or 4; in other words, that 
the law requires an even number of syllables between the last two 
accents. In the nature of things the 6 form is very rare (in Zosimus 
they scarcely exceed the 5 form in frequency), and it is difficult to 
find any basis for judgment without a very extensive collection of 
material. The 6 form does not exist in Latin, but there seem to 
be some cases in Greek; since they are so uncommon, they need 
not enter into a general discussion. Until they are certainly found 
to be regular it is safest to leave the law in a negative form, as 
given above. 

Now that the actual law has been seen through the written ac- 
cents, it is possible to work out the details of its application. Any 
satisfactory conclusion must be deduced from the facts themselves ; 
but before proceeding to a statement of such facts, some general 
observations may be in order. First of all, to take Zosimus’ History 
as typical of the rhythmical prose, the case may be stated as fol- 
lows: granted that Zosimus favored two particular forms in the 
arrangement of accents in his clausulz to such an extent as to make 
75 °/, of all cases conform absolutely to these forms, while five other 
possible forms are represented in only 25°/) of the total, it is rea- 
sonable to inquire whether the preferred forms may not be rec- 
ognized in cases where the written accent does not of itself make 
the preferred forms clear. A definite tendency toward a certain 
rhythm is apparent; can not this rhythm be found in apparently 
irregular forms without doing violence to the language ? 

We are dealing with a stress accent in Greek of this period, at 
least similar to the stress accent in English. If now, Zosimus even 
unconsciously sought the rhythm of the 2 and 4 forms, his procedure 
would be analogous to that of a person writing English verse. 
Here not every word has an accent, nor does the verse accent in 





* Rhythmisches zu der Kunstprosa des Const. Manass., Byz. Zschr. 1902. 


430 H. B. Dewing, 


every case coincide with a strong word accent, but a secondary 
accent of a polysyllabic word may occasionally mark the rhythm. 
To quote from Prof. T. D. Goodell: “To produce English verse in 
a desired rhythm, words are so selected and arranged that strongly 
stressed syllables come naturally into enough of the more prominent 
and regularly recurring times of the intended pattern to determine | 
how the other syllables are to make the rest of the pattern.”1 This 
is exactly what Zosimus has done; the arrangement of word accents 
in his clausule makes clear a preference for two definite patterns, 
and the preponderance of these characteristic forms where they are 
clearly marked by written accents raises a strong presumption that 
the rhythm of these patterns must be uniformly present in all his 
clausule. The question thus raised resolves itself into this: what 
was the spoken aécent of the word groups in question as they 
stand in their context? The cursus rhythm was undoubtedly in- 
tended for the ear, and not for the eye. Now though there is 
reason to believe that written accents do not in each case represent 
spoken accents in connected discourse, yet some definite evidence 
is needed to support the evidence of the cursus itself; to prove, 
for example, that the accented forms of the article were not as 
strongly stressed as the accented syllable of a noun or verb. 
Fortunately the evidence desired is at hand in the so-called Po- 
litical Verses. which have an accentual meter instead of a quanti- 
tative basis as in classical Greek poetry.2, We can feel on sure 
ground in dealing with verses of a simple structure; the lines uni- 
formly contain 15 syllables with the movement iambic. Here we 
may expect to find a safe basis for reading the accentual rhythm 
of the cursus. We see, first, that not every word bears a metrical 
accent; monosyllabic words often form the arsis of a foot, even 
though they bear a written accent; for example, the article in all 
its forms, uéy, dé, xai, and the copula yy. The same is true of the 
monosyllabic enclitics and proclitics ze, ye, zz, eis, év, é; all these are 
used in arsi—in other words, have no metrical accent; second, there 
is no consistency in the treatment of the accents of these mono- 
syllables; for example, ué, dé, x«i often do bear an ictus, and even 
enclitics or proclitics may be treated in this way; for example, 
xeavos te zai déov; SO ye is found with an ictus; third, in dissyllabic 





+ Unpublished Lectures; Yale University. 
? Political Verses were examined in the following writers: Michael 


Psellus, Migne 122; John Tzetzes, ed. Kiessling ; Constantinus Manasses, 
Corpus Scr. Hist. Byz. 


Accentual Cursus in Byzantine Greek Prose. 431 


words the meter sometimes requires an ictus on the syllable without 
written accent, while the accented syllable stands in arsi; this license 
is generally limited to relatively unimportant words, such as_pre- 
positions; we find x«ré scanned as an accentual trochee, om as an 


-accentual iambus, a fact which plainly suggests that these words 


were pronounced with only a slight accent, or with an accent which 
varied according to the nearness of stronger accents on other words. 
The situation in the Political Verses may be stated in general terms 
thus: the accentual rhythm is plainly based first of all on the written 
word accents, and these accents alone are sufficient to mark clearly 
the pattern of the rhythm; there are enough written accents falling 
in the metrical theses to define exactly where all the verse accents 
must lie. Some written accents are allowed to stand in arsi, but 
not all accents indifferently ; the accents so treated stand on words 
which must have had slight, if any, independent stress in spoken 
discourse, except in certain special cases. The metrical excellence 
of the verse consists in the regulation of the licenses which the 
writer assumes in order to fit his language to the metrical scheme. 
Just so in the cursus, which has likewise an accentual basis, the 

best writers may be expected to show the highest art in the limi- 
tation set on the licenses which they permit, rather than in a me- 
chanical conformity to a rigid pattern. The treatment in the cursus 
of the weakly accented words such as the article may be illustrated 
from Zonaras, who makes about 75°/) of his clausule conform to 
the cursus forms by their written accents alone, and seems to allow 
about 10°/, plainly to transgress the law. To begin with the article: 

cvaoondy 6 Aupid. 

maoov Tov prior. 

anéoterke TH) AaBid. 
These cases are exactly similar as regards the cursus; neither 7 
nor z#y has an independent accent any more than o in the first 
example. Different cases are: 

zivOvvEvovoens Tis x3wtov, 

Onjdot tovto tH Borel. 
Here if the accents of rj and 7 are counted as before, we have 
in both cases a clausula of the 4 form; on the other hand, by 
reading them with stress we have a clausula of the 2 form. What 
is to be done? We are not bound to consistency in counting out 
the accented forms of the article; the usage of the Political Verses 
makes so much clear. But as to whether the cases in question 
should be read as conforming to form 2 or form 4 is for the present 

Trans. Conn. Acan., Vol. XIV. 29 Apri, 1910. 


432 H. B. Dewing, 


unimportant. They may with reason be assigned to either one of 
these classes. A different situation appears in the following: 
Xovot még ths Evufovirye. 
xatedimge tous modeuiovs. 

Here nothing will save the cursus except counting the accent of 
the article as the leading ictus of the rhythmical unit. It seems un- 
reasonable not to admit that the article in these cases is intended 
to have a full spoken accent. On the other hand, it is not safe to 
go to the other extreme and conclude that the article may be read 
with or without an ictus according as the law requires. That license 
has one limitation at least, namely the distance of the article from 
other stressed syllables. For example, it is hard to believe that in 
nasa tov pvaov (above), tov should have a stress at all approaching 
that of zeowy in intensity; it is much easier to believe that in azé- 
otetke t© Aapid (above), the 7 might have an independent stress 
approximately as strong as that of 4asid; then in the last case 
quoted, x«zedimge tovs modeuiovs, the tendency to stress rove is almost 
irresistible. This is plainly a case where certainty is out of our 
reach; we are forced to make our judgment depend on subjective 
feeling, supported by the evidence of the cursus itself. A working 
principle until a better one can be formulated is this: the article 
when immediately preceded or followed by a strong word accent 
is not expected to stand in thesi; when separated by one syllable 
from a strong word accent on either side, it may stand in thesi; 
when separated by two syllables from a strong word accent on 
either side, it is expected to stand in thesi. 

The same principle applies to other monosyllables. Examples are : 

rédunxe Je zai ovtos. 
moAhovs uéy aveiaev. 
texunotoy Je. 

oydorjzovta dé peBuatderxer. 
n J€ woe ov didworr. 

The same doctrine seems to govern the use of the prepositions ; 
here the dissyllabic forms are treated exactly like the monosyllables. 
To begin with the monosyllables: 

naepadoauay eis aokpecay. 
éime moos “Ayacp. 
mowitEey eg ueonupolc’. 
thy &hwva &x tov ‘Oova. 
aneioy ny 006 Tov #éov. 
anyee moog Keotcor. 


Accentual Cursus in Byzantine Greek Prose. 433 


Examples of dissyllabic prepositions are: 
sinoy yuo edt of mEQi «vtor, 
Matcééae evtov xare HEPCANS. 
OTONTEVUMTOS LETH TOY oKniyywr, 
cupw ent Enoas. 
avrov due try aneotiay. 
Anya avti &hwvos. 
Lauwpov duce rovto, 

Other words occurring less frequently in clausule which seem to 
show the same inconsistency of treatment are the negatives ov 
and uy: 

himeiy ove éneiteto, 
Bapvidva ovx% &teaoato. 
nto J€ ye un émevéyxwuer * 

Similarly the conjunction a and the comparative adverb 7 and 
the conditional conjunction «i: 

Mooprtyy ws Cnoetee. 
H kum n wayuiog ° 
ABeonhou ei vixnoeicr. 

Besides these words which are all subordinate in relation to the 
main framework of the sentence, there are other words whose treat- 
ment in the clausule of Zonaras plainly indicates that the written 
accent does not always represent a spoken accent. First the copula 
in its non-enclitic forms: 

6 nooprtns Meyaias ny. 

dixaos HY. 
The conjunction «ie : 

ovx cyaotnon Ex THS vooov GAAu TEdvHEN. 

The relative pronoun : 

aityoue 0 ovdowto * 

AaBeiv te &@& wv exoucter - 
The substantive article: 


> x: \ > 
cmoxtéivat tous évdor. 
c 9 > > , 

ot 0” ovx Emavouyto. 


Adverbs, especially in a set form like et moveiv.? 
The pronoun ovzos : 


MOOKAT HAG IOLGG ZOUTEL THUTNS. 
> > ~ 4 
avayMoNnce El THbTH AeéBol. 





1 Cf. Litzica, p. 34. 


434 H. B. Dewing, 


So the personal pronoun of the third person, «vz0d. Cases are 
abundant in which eros and the other cases and genders of this 
word plainly carry an independent stress; for example: 


, ns 
UA YEH UEVOUS QUT. 


On the other hand, cases are far from rare in which ettot can have 
no full stress if the cursus is saved: 


Tov TET 00S abtod §usovdos. 
Others show ambiguity: 


paothel abtay anextevdnouy. 
ENEOOIWEV TG THY UNdwtnY aitod, 


In the last case neither «éz@ nor «vtos can be stressed if the cursus 
is saved. 

We should be very sceptical as to allowing the accented forms 
of the first and second personal pronouns to be counted as without 
stress; yet we find such a case as the following in Zonaras: 


Ovzx Ehchnoev ev Euoi xv@LOC. 


If the clausula is regular, ¢y must bear an ictus and éuoi be counted 
as the arsis, unless xecos be read, without stress. 

A great number of cases bring us face to face with the question 
of hiatus and elision. The usage of the classical writers would lead 
us to expect to find hiatus carefully avoided in the comparatively 
artificia) and imitative writing of the Byzantines. What we actually 
find in Zonaras, (to use him as an example), is this: first a great 
number of cases of hiatus which are partly justifiable as being “ weak ” 
—that is, after a long vowel or diphthong; second, a great number 
of cases handed down by the manuscript tradition in which hiatus 
occurs in its most objectionable form, namely cases which can be 
avoided by elision or crasis. For example: 

O ayo. 
TO Ovoud. 
@veuUcEto 1 Yur. 


CDTOV TE EXTELVE. 

On the other hand, elision seems to be frequent in the manuscripts: 
xotumuéevy 0” avrg. 
én’ éty (followed by éaé éry three lines below!). 


The manuscripts therefore, as expected, show no consistency and 
have no bearing on the question. In order to settle upon a prin- 
ciple the clausule of two writers who show care in observing the 


\ Accentual Cursus in Byzantine Greek Prose. 435 


cursus rhythm were inspected with a view to determining just how 
far the best writers go in avoiding hiatus in clausule. To these is 
added the evidence of the Political Verses, which are of considerable 
importance, although they date from the latter part of the Byzantine 
period. 

In Zosimus, Book I, as printed in the Corpus Scr. Hist. Byz., there 
are only 37 cases of hiatus before all kinds of punctuation inside 
the clausule, that is, in general, between the last two words of 
a clause. Of these the following are cases of weak hiatus, but 
have bearing on the question whether crasis or apheresis are 
admissible in clausule: 


1. cdhous te zai ObekEeouavor, OS oe 

2. mootyoy zai e&wucte, 28, 8. 

3. avaoye te zal aBowdnte, 35, 6. 

4. Acorcon zai “Agetoiac 46, 6-7. 
5. avdo@y te xab tinny, 47, 14. 

6. adexta zai enopintea, 51, 19=20. 
7. 4 &* THyNs n Ex MOOVoias, 60) 22: 


It is noticeable that six of the seven cases involve zai. In every 
case except 1 and 4 crasis or apheresis (in 7) would destroy a 
plainly correct cursus rhythm, and even in 14 crasis would not pro- 
duce a regular cursus type, and would at the same time destroy the 
possibility afforded by the text as it stands, namely giving to Oi 
the consonant sound which appears in the Latin form of the name 
“Valerianus”. This small body of evidence, therefore, gives no 
suggestion that crasis or apheresis where possible should of neces- 
sity be read in clausule; on the other hand, it plainly indicates 
that hiatus is tolerated, even when the hiatus could be removed 
by either crasis or apheeresis. 

There are many more cases of hiatus after a short vowel, cases, 
namely, where elision might be expected. 

I. In ten cases a perfectly good cursus is made hopelessly irreg- 
ular by introducing elision or crasis in reading: 


gig Tvoavrida EsEVEYFELY, bite 240): 
. ce , > ce > ~ ~ a) 
dv vmowlaes éiyev 0 Avtwrivos, Jay) Alloy 
Pa 70 > y (be ~ 
za Oooyv ol0s TE HY, JLExWAvE,* 15, 18. 
aoLEwr yy oizéie Ertoiet, 18, 23. 








+ References to page and line in the Corpus. 

2 In this case it is not clear whether the clausula ends with #y or 
with dvexoidve; in the former case elision of te would make a regular 
form impossible. 


436 


If. In nine cases a 
ular form can still be 
accents : 


Hi. B. Dewing, 


moos te xatEot@ta n yoov,} 26, 3. 
CY LOTHUEVOV, TUYTH EMLYEUOUEVOL. 305"b: 
> , J , 

OYVOWTKTM KVEYWQOLY, 30, 19. 
XATAUPVYOVTES TE EX TOU Mholov, 49, 5. 
prhotiuos JE ay picEet, 49, 7. 
évdovtos Hédoue TO aime, 42, 13. 


perfectly good cursus is destroyed, while a reg- 
read after elision by subordinating heavy written 


imei 0& not TabTE EdOxEL, 19,10 
Teouavois teyuata otsovta. 26, 6. 
Dedenvod maida énohooxet, 36, 10. 
xootvvas xual Odmaha EnEpEoorto. 46, 18. 
tive JE TadTa, E00.” 50, 14. 
toils EmetEetayuévots TO Doauc Edidov. 56, 22—23: 
O00 EO Oi0i TE Hour, EMEOCLOTYTO.? 58, 20-21. 
aitnoews ov mavta anédoouy. 59, 3 (stressing ov). 
OUVOVIOV KVTO TH aYNXEOTH, 61, 11 (crasis). 


Il. In five cases elision leaves a cursus just as plainly regular as 
the one destroyed, with jj or wy counted as without ictus: 


maeoatuoaivas Ws olds TE HY, Qty Ve 
PLAdTTMY WS 016g TE HY, 29, 1X18) 
MOAEUOY, EY CLOQOLS TE WY, 29, 20: 
ywouy we olds TE HY, are. [i 
avtol Te nel ta vnobiyie. 41, 11. (crasis): 


IV. In two cases neither elision nor crasis can be introduced to 


avoid the hiatus: 


V. The following 
elision : 


étoeway Evdd eis puyny 3 46, 1. 
Cwyoly Ehov. 59 5—G: 


three cases are irregular as they stand without 


1. mh der oixade anjecay Diaries 

i W] ) ) 
2. nai ei wey dexta Epern, 5i, 1s: 
3. BeoBaoutEian Eig OAtyor TL, 52, 9-10. 


Of these 1 and 3 can not be read as regular forms without elision. 
In 2 elision makes a 2 form possible (stressing uéy), but the clausula 


is bad. 


There are two cases of elision in clausule as printed in the text: 


* The punctuation 


end with zxadeoratea. 


2 Cf. p. 435, n. 2. 


aVEYWONGKY EN’ olxOv. 30, 17 and 32; 16-11% 





may be questioned; the clausula should perhaps 


* If é¢ be read, the hiatus may be removed by apheresis : «v9 ’s pvyijv. 


Accentual Cursus in Byzantine Greek Prose. 437 


The demands of the cursus are here against elision, and the full 
form emt should be read, making form 4. 


One case of crasis occurs in the printed text: 
UMEOTOEWEY éig ToUNtow. 34, 14. 


Here the resolution of toiaiow into 1d éaiow would still leave a pos- 
sible regular form (introduced by an ictus on ic); hence no inference 
can be made. 

To sum up, there are two cases in which the requirements of the 
cursus plainly demand elision (1 and 3 of class V); there are eight 
cases in which the requirements of the cursus make elision impos- 
sible (class I); the remaining cases can form the basis for no cer- 
tain generalization, although eight cases in class I] may justly be 
made ground for a very strong presumption against elision. The 
evidence before us plainly indicates, first, that Zosimus rather care- 
fully avoided hiatus in his clausule; second, that in avoiding hiatus 
by elision he followed no consistent principle, but elided or omitted 
elision according to the demands of the cursus. This principle should 
be adopted in editing his text. In general elision is not expected, 
just as in the Latin accentual clausule. 

In Procopius of Gaza, Panegyric to the Emperor Anastasius 
(Migne, 87—3), all cases before punctuation were counted. Only 
seven cases of hiatus are found in the clausule of the text as 
printed. Of these two are cases of weak hiatus: 


On zai Umovior, 2808 A. 
mtwyot TLVES XEL HYEOTLOL * 2808 B. 
In the first case crasis is unlikely; in either it would violate the 
cursus rhythm. 
The remaining cases follow: 


1. 10 xtjua ehoyilov: Paral Of 


As the phrase stands, neither form 2 nor form 4 can be read, unless 
one goes to the unreasonable extreme of placing an ictus on 76 and 
subordinating the accent of xtjua; whereas the easy elision of “«” 
in ztjuc gives a clear case of form 2. 


2. Bontetv dé odx elyor* 2813 A. 


‘The situation here is reversed; the cursus requires that dé be not 


elided. The other cases are ambiguous or doubtful: 


3. 7) Jé hueteow MOMs, 2796 A. 


438 H. B. Dewing, 


The case is irregular, and no good cursus type is possible with or 
without elision; but the punctuation may be questioned. 


(A. nai nj wiv eiyeto, 4 Dé Ewedler, 2805 A. 
Here ciyeto, 4 dé Zueddev scans Correctly: + _/_/_/+ __3 but eiyer, 


7 0" epediey is equally good: jj. 
5. atoatnyay TE oxhos, 2808 B. 
Here the text is corrupt. 


The following three cases show elision as printed (in each case 
of a preposition) : 


6. Te weylota nae’ avdounas, 2801 A. 
7. wo eixdc, én’? adbt@- 2816 A. 
8. adhe ta xa¥ Huds. 2817 C. 


In all these the cursus requires that the elided forms be retained. 

To sum up: Procopius of Gaza very carefully avoids hiatus. 
Only one clear case appears (2) in which a hiatus avoidable by 
elision must be retained to keep the cursus, against four cases 
(1, 6, 7, 8) where elision must certainly be admitted, once against 
the manuscripts (76 xzju’ édoyitov). Procopius of Gaza is plainly more 
careful than Zosimus in admission of hiatus, but one clear case 
forbids the conclusion that elision must be introduced to avoid 
hiatus wherever possible. Both writers are certainly inconsistent in 
regard to elision in their clausule. 

In the Political Verses the neglect of elision is a matter which 
varies with different writers. In Constantinus Manasses, vv. 2500—2700 
in the Corpus, there occurs no case of hiatus, while there are oc- 
casional cases of elision and crasis. One case of hiatus was found 
in another passage (v. 2306 dvo éry), but it is clear that this writer 
does not admit hiatus of any sort except in very rare cases, and 
he consistently elides when hiatus can be avoided in this way. 

In John Tzetzes, Historiarum Variarum Chiliades, ed. Kiessling, 
I, 1-204, seventeen cases of hiatus occur; of these five are justified 
by their position in the ceesura of the verse. One is a quotation of 
a familiar phrase: te ovov 130. 


Four are cases of weak hiatus: 


zal ovowud 67. 
Koavaod tacoyov Ie}: 
zat “Adnrre, 173. 
tovtov ‘Advattns, 155. 


Seven cases of plain hiatus are found: 


EEE ror 


Accentual Cursus in Byzantine Greek Frose. 439 


1. éyew wria avov IB. 
2. DapBaids te 6 oteatnyos 74. 
3. &s to “Hociov 31 
4. Kooioos 6 ‘Advettew ilk 
5. 6 “Eoéytevs 175. 
6. 0 “Hoty dovios 172. 
7. xa Te avdxtooe 161. 


Two of these (1 and 2) could be remedied by a natural elision, the 
remainder by crasis, but the meter requires that they be read 
with hiatus. Tzetzes, then, is not consistent; elision is occasionally 
omitted metri gratia, though in general hiatus of any kind is rare. 

The indications are plain that the writers of Byzantine times had 
partly lost the feeling of abhorrence for hiatus which was fun- 
damental in the best writing of prose or verse with the Greeks of 
the classical period. The language written in the sixth century A.D. 
was no longer the living spoken language which it had been in the 
fifth century B.C. The use of an accentual cursus shows the presence 
of a new element; the pronunciation of rhetorical prose was guided 
by a stress accent, that namely of the spoken language, instead of 
the pitch accent of the earlier period. The feeling for quantity 
may have largely disappeared ; just so it seems plain that the feeling 
against hiatus had become much weaker.! 

It is remarkable that the situation with the Latin cursus is some- 
what similar, in that the accentual clausule of Latin writers are 
consistently read without elision. This fact is the more striking 
because the same contrast between the accentual cursus and the 
earlier quantitative cursus is thus found to exist in both Latin and 
Greek. Another point of contact here appears between the Greek 
and Latin accentual cursus.? 

We may illustrate what is proposed for the reading of clausule 
generally by a few cases from Zonaras. 

I. Cases in which elision is not present in the printed text of 
the Corpus. 

A. Irregular forms: 


GY ETE GKUTOV. 133, 18. 
otxadE aN EL, 82, 18. 
GLVETOVEVETO KUTO. SOR ue 
GWUcTE EvOEINn ORY. 196, 9. 





* Cf. W. Schmid, Der Atticismus, III 291, 292. 

2 On elision in Cicero’s clausulee see Th. Zielinski, Das Klauselgesetz 
in Ciceros Reden, Leipzig 1904, pp. 28,29. On elision in the late Latin 
cursus writers (beginning with the fourth century A.D.) see Havet, Sym- 
machus, §§ 209, 215; Meyer, Gesam. Abh. II, pp. 258, 261. 


440 H. B. Dewing, 


B. Regular forms: 


moyileto 0 Feds. 85, 11. 
unvodévta annyyechar. 135, 4. 
ov d& Hyvonoas. 140 
Baothevoese o& Ev avtais. 150, 18. 


II. Cases in which elision is present in the printed text of the Corpus. 
A. Irregular forms: 


maclous vn’ chan hor, 88, 3. 

Hoon En’ ave * 355, 2. 
B. Regular forms: 

Toounk avt’ adtod. 190, 18. 

Oouyxcoly En’ avTHY, 99, 15. 


Disregarding the manuscripts, the clausulee under I, A and II, B should 
be read with elision; those under I, B and II, A without elision. 

In order to justify still further such procedure in a writer where 
many cases occur in which elision must be considered in reading 
the clausule, 200 cases were counted in Zonaras, reading with 
elision every case in which a short vowel which could be elided 
stands in a clausula, with the following result: preferred forms 
60.5 + 9/); avoided forms 39+°/).1 The preferred forms now stand 
to the others in the ratio of 8 to 2 instead of 3 to 1 as before, when 
elision was not so introduced. Even so there are enough regular 
forms to suggest plainly the cursus rhythm in Zonaras; but it is 
plain that this procedure is wrong when a similar test is made, in 
Demosthenes: 21 cases of elision in clausule are found in about 200 
cases in the Androtion in., and the result of introducing the un- 
elided forms makes altogether one less regular accentual clausula 
in the total; that is, in 10 cases the change to the unelided form 
makes a preferred form of accentual clausula, while in 11 cases the 
change destroys a preferred form. 


Zonaras with elision 75°/) reg.; without elision 60.5 °/, reg.! 
Demosthenes _,, fo lind Beans - - 41015 


Zonaras loses 14.5 °/9, Demosthenes .5°/9; this of itself makes it al- 
most certain that Zonaras’ clausule are not to be read with con- 
sistent use of elision, although it is recognized that those of De- 
mosthenes should. 

There are several other questions which occasionally arise in the 
treatment of clausule, which are here noted in passing. In regard 





1 Counting by written accents. 


Accentual Cursus in Byzantine Greek Prose. 441 


to the secondary accent we must admit almost complete uncertainty 
at the outset. We dare not at present suppose that a secondary 
accent can be located in as arbitrary a way as it is in the Political 
Verses, where such an accent must be counted in every word which 
shows more than one syllable either before or after the word accent, 
because of the very nature of iambic meter. But the presence of 
a secondary accent may reasonably be recognized as a real factor 
in reading the cursus. Of one thing we may be sure: that every 
secondary accent must stand in such a position as to be separated 
by at least one syllable from the written accent of the same word. 
Beyond this it is all guesswork; in most clausulz there is not room 
enough for a secondary accent of any consequence, and it is safest 
to ignore it wholly. 

Another troublesome question is that of the accent of enclitics, 
and the acquired accent on the word preceding. It seems reasonable 
to hold that enclitics which have lost their accent should certainly 
not be read with a stress upon them, and so it seems to be in 
a majority of cases; for example : 


youve Tove évtvyov. Zon. 159, 9. 
But this case also appears in Zonaras: 
MCYTES Gol EOUEY. 164, 1. 


There is a further difficulty in reading the accent acquired from an 
enclitic. It is reasonable to believe that the acquired accent is 
weaker than the original accent of the word which takes on the 
accent from the enclitic; so the following case would seem to belong 
to the 4 form: 

EMOQEVETO TE HAL EMOMTTEY. Zon. 112; 23. 
But there is still the possibility of a 2 form, if the last syllable of 
énogeveto be stressed. Another case found frequently in Procopius 
of Caesarea may be cited here: 

olds TE Elvee. 
It would seem within reason to read the clausula as a regular 2 form 
without any stress on the ultima of ojos. At any rate, we should 
not hesitate to read form 2 in the following: 

Tavtn mM Elvee. 
It would appear clearer what should be done in such a case as this: 

tov avdon ynoir. _ Zon. 112, 23. 
A puzzling case is the following: 


bmoxeiodai of opEethovec. 


442 H. B. Dewing, 


It is plain that the cursus rhythm is violated by two successive 
accents inside clausulz. It is fair to ask whether clausule may be 
introduced by the second of two successive accents; the question 
arises in such cases as this: 


HBoauiott xvovos hE yEtae. 
The case is different in the following: 
Ta OMhe “xaTEdEVTO. 


Here the accent of z¢ makes no conflict with that of éz4«, but in 
the former case the accent of ‘Egeciori is at least equal to that of 
zvows In Weight, if not heavier. Now supposing the former of two 
accents so placed should entirely outweigh the latter, have we still 
a right to consider the clausula introduced by the second weaker 
accent, because it is two or four syllables removed from the a 
accent of the clause? For example: 

ex YELOOS ray chhoptiwr. 

udyis oveouyeions abtois mes toy Liocour. 

m€oL avTOV ob iéQéis. 
According to the suggestions made above (p. 432), tav, meds and of 
in these clausule are not expected to bear an ictus strong enough 
to stand as the thesis of the clausulz, and they can not be counted 
perfectly regular. Yet it seems to be going too far to assert that 
they are absolutely irregular. 

The vexed problem of punctuation is closely involved in that of 
reading the cursus. It is plain that the law should be considered 
as operative at every sense pause, as is shown by the practical 
conformity to the law before each mark of punctuation in our texts. 
But the placing of commas must certainly be revised in many Cases. 
Here a further question arises regarding pauses before and after 
parenthetical statements and before quotations.1! 

In the best writing there seems some reason to look for a con- 
tinuous cursus running through whole sentences. For example, the 
rhythm of the 2 form of clausula is continuous through the following 
clause : 

zai chhe dé Beosapu EIvy ovvyer uEsékovta ts é/ZELonaews. 
Zos. 180, 22—28. 


aoe em a MO) Ee Ses fe 





Before our information is complete, a study must be made of 
syllabic quantity in the clausule; there may be some fixed prin- 





a Of. Havet, Symiiaule pp. 21 ff. 


Accentual Cursus in Byzantine Greek Prose. 443 


ciple followed in this matter, and a connection may be discovered 
between the old quantitative cursus and that of the later period 
which was based on accent, although this is scarcely possible if the 
accentual rhythm originated in Latin, as held by Havet and Meyer. 

Further the relative frequency of the different kinds of accent in 
clausule must be defined, in order to know whether the accents 
were of different value, as in classical Greek, or without distinction, 
as in Modern Greek. 


Part III.—Zostvs. 


The prose of Zosimus is taken as a good example of writing in 
which an accentual cursus is found with considerable regularity. 
A limited portion is chosen and the clausulz therein classified, in 
order to get enough evidence to furnish a cross-section of his prac- 
tice in the use of the cursus rhythm. All clausule before the heavier 
marks of punctuation in Book III? are treated in the following. 

First of all, the result of counting by written accents alone is as 
follows: from a total of 350 clausule there appear 205 cases of 
the 2 form, 75 of the 4 form, and 2 of the 6 form—a total of 282 
cases of the preferred forms (supposing provisionally the two cases 
of the 6 form to be regular), or 80.5 °/) of the whole number of cases 
counted. In other words, the written accent fits perfectly the regular 
patterns of the cursus in four fifths of all the cases. In this 80.5 °/, 
are included cases in which proclitics and enclitics stand in arsi. 
The 16 cases show the following words so used: 


The article: of (twice); 6 (twice); 4 (once). 
The negative: od (four times). 
The prepositions: éy (once); ic (twice). 
The enclitics: re (once); zz (twice); wov (once). 
There are also included in this 80.5°/,) 13 cases in which the 


pattern fits badly, in that the accent of a weak word carries an 
ictus in the rhythmical unit: 


1. navtenacw Hv: 134, 15. Cf. 145, 6. 
2. aita zai 6 vids. 133; 10. (Ck 166, 8. 
3. deadnua ti zEpadi,. 136, 6. | (C£-162, 4: 
4. tiv “Poucioy coyiy tod mootecyiouctos. 17 bas MO a 
5. Nioigeou zai Nioyaveen. 162, 22. 
6. chevow eivar éoyatouéyn. 156,-11; “Gf. 166,15. 








* Corpus Scr. Hyst. Byz. 


444 H. B. Dewing, 


7. Llego@v ovoay chor. 158, 15. 
8. mao’ avtois OvTMY EXE UWAVTES. 167, 16. 
9. tobitwy tev Tomy TLvOS. 169, 5. 


These cases are not all of the same character; there is little 
violence, if any, in reading form 2 or 4 in 1, 3, 5, 6 and 9. In the 
remaining cases the situation is much harder; it would seem real 
violence to place an ictus on za in 2, rot in 4, oveay in 7 and 
ovtwoy in 8. 

The regular forms are found in 35 more cases when the accents 
of such words as the article are counted out, as suggested for the 
examples from Zonaras. 

1. Accented forms of the article in arsi; 26 cases: 


EKEAOML THS wceyns. 126, 5. 
Nojoeoar tHs Odov. 1619 3. 
nYNotuévwv Tov oteatnyov.' 160, 16. 


2. Prepositions in arsi; 2 cases: 


Apu taioy ovy tovt. 143, 13. 

ETEQOU MEOL Huds 123, 8. 
3. Relative pronoun in arsi; 1 case: \ 

céov wy étoAunoe. 1356, 18. 


4. Conjunctions in arsi: dé, 1 case; zai, 5 Cases: 
tété JE EQNUoY. 144, 9. 
Aovziavos xai Kovotcyttos. 148, 7-8. 
5. Comparative adverb in arsi; 4 case: 
alonoew ablyy 7) TO yoovgror. 156, 21. 
There are a few cases which bring up the question of elision 
(such as zéte dé éojuoy quoted above); these are treated according 


to the principles already set down for such cases. 
Two cases are read as regular by eliding: 


dieot@o’ Esdourxorte, 143, 20. 
étégous 0” avexntéotnoer. £5, 18: 


In 7 cases elision or crasis is not introduced: 


Enetndeue EXEL. 129, 12—18. 
avtT@ TO &oouEvor. 137, 8. 
tadta te én. LST og 
tote dé Eonuoy. 144, 9. 





‘ Here ray may be read as stressed and a 2 form read, or subordinated 
and a 4 form read. 


Accentual Cursus in Byzantine Greek Prose. 445 


éivae éoyautouery. D56, 105 
uETe TOY ahhoy ait zal 6 vids. 133,10; 
mEVTE xaL EBdouUnxoYTE. 161, 3. 


Perhaps apheresis should be introduced in 1 case: 


[a 


déyeotue EwédAroe. 153,60 2—3. 
Crasis occurs once in the text as printed, and should be so read: 
aUTM TE xaxéeivols. 126, 12. 


There remain 30 cases which do not conform plainly to the regular 
forms. Yet there are some in which the cursus rhythm may be 
suggested in spite of the apparent violation of the law. By sub- 
ordinating what would seem to have been strong written accents, 
regular clausulea may be produced! : 


1. xed mavras Boor td Ayotexor oioi TE éyiyvovto deapuyeiv ExTELVE. 

133, 1-2. (Form 6?) 
2. ti downy oreateg ovvéucsay. 146, 1819: Cy 4?) 
3. aL TD otoat@m Ogov xataotHoa. 155, 15. (Qo 2 
4. avpsdr Bohas Edeyor. 159, 23. 160, 1. Ney heap) 
5. Nehovotioy tis abso taaoyor. a Wee gi ld ls Corey E23) 
6. Eig THY Tay bhwy coyny EddeEiv. 173, 14. (ve aie) 


In the following there seems to be no possibility of recognizing 
even a trace of regularity, unless, indeed, such licenses be assumed 
as synizesis of ew (9 and 20), and reading iota as a consonant ” 
(12, 21 and 22): 


1. noQddnhov éxpvyeiv oedoov. 144, 21. 

2. mohhovds dé xai EPehovtas é&dééaTO. 125, 6. 

3. UEQOS Ov uulxooY THs Ednidos Ev cabtois EacAEveEr. 125, 21. 

4. zata “Pwucioy yeioas aoa. 133, 14-15. 
5. zaé tas tov innéwy thas: 142, 15-16. 
6. xai thy votEgaiuy yovyiay yor. 146, 3-4. 
7. dvdhoyoy 1H oomate. 131, 15: 


1 With these cases may be compared clausulze instanced as possible 
regular types by W. Groénert, Zur griechischen Satzrhythmik, Rhein. 
Mus. 54 (1899), pp. 593 ff. 


00S avTOUS MaEL YOUUEVOL. 
Tov avtod xbxhov otoépovtae. 
c ALY ’ 2 

vundany Corny péoovtae. 

én’ avtns Mavta modyuate. 
> Aes ” “0 

avatoh@y non séyouer. 


? This license is frequent in the Latin cursus. 


446 H. B. Dewing, 


8. ree Eis tas “Adners.} 138, 4. 

9. wet dvvauEews coxovons. 147, 18-14. 
10. xareoxerdace ToLovde. 149, 17. 
11. xa haxxivagioe xei Bixtwoes. 156, 1. 

12. avaody mohooxias. 156, 16she 
3. énecta dé mAéious. 156; tap 
14. of LHépow mheovexteiv edogay - 165, 14. 
15. 1 oroat@ naoédwzer. 162, LO—195 
16. ov xahotor “Poucioe udycotoor * ? 165, 6. 

1%. tov mhoiwy éntBuivery. 159, 19—20. 
18. xaréotnouy eis yeious. 165, 4. 

19. dia méors FEwpovuevov Tis iuéous. 140, 15. 
20. cerijoews a5 elyor. 150, 15. 
21. Mehevxias ovoualouérngs. 158, 8—9. 
22. nohéue yeyvuraouévor. 125, 20. ° 
23, ano dequatwy dé mEvtaxootur. 142, 28, 148, 1. 

24. t@ Tovisavod cawate. 172, 8. 


Among these 30 cases the irregular forms occur as follows: 


Form 0 6 cases. 


? 1 9 ” 
fy MeL a5 > 
3? o 3 ee 


It is noticeable that almost one half of the irregular cases are of the 
3 form. There seems reason to suppose, therefore, that this form of 
clausula was the least objectionable form, at least less objectionable 
than forms 0 and 1. This seems the more reasonable because in 
prose where no accentual cursus is present both form 0 and form 14 
occur more frequently than form 3. 

The situation in Zosimus may be summarized thus: 80+ °/9 are 
absolutely regular, reading by the last two written accents; 10+ °/o 
are regular by counting out the accents of weak words ; 9 + °/) remain 
which seem distinctly to violate the cursus rhythm.? 





1 yee ’o te ‘Adnecs would be a regular 2 form, (considering the form of 
the preposition é¢, with apheeresis). 

* ucycotoor, if pronounced according to the Latin accent of “ magistrum ” 
makes a regular form 2, but there seems to be no justification in as- 
suming such a license; in the following case the use of the Latin accent 
would destroy a regular form: 

os GZOLTMOLO’S TODGKYOQEVOLOLY 165,10 

8 This method of counting regular cases first as marked by written 
accents, brings into the regular forms cases which do not really show 
strict conformity to the form which the last two written accents alone 


ew 


Accentual Cursus in Byzantine Greek Prose. 447 


The final results thus obtained are here set down beside similar 
results from other writers, arranged according to the regularity of 
their cursus. It will be readily seen that these figures are quite 
different from those given by Litzica, though in most cases the 
passage chosen for a test was the same as the ground covered 
by him. In the case of AZneas of Gaza, it now appears that there 
is twice as much irregularity present as the 16°/) which Litzica 
found, and little, if any regard is paid to the law. In Sophronius 
the range of regularity is apparently limited to the 2 form—a pheno- 
menon which may be paralleled in only a few other writers. 








Forms 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 | Reg. |Irreg. 
| Zosimus' L.7+| 2.5+(65.74+] 3.742494] .84] 1.14 |90.0+] 9.8+ 


L194 2 3) 0 0 97 3) 


O 
Andreas of Crete? |0 4 79 2 15 O O 94 6 
5 











Sophronius? 








| eat (53: 6 25 5 0) 88 {12 


Basilius of Seleucia} i7+|0 [74.74 9.54113.0+) sto [ez.7+2.0+) 
Synesins® § [5 fio 68 [5 be |o lo ko bo 


| Aineas of Gaza? 3 10 49 21 15 2 0 64 36 


Agathias + 





























It is not clear what should be done with the residuum of rebellious 
clausule in such a writer as Zosimus or Agathias. Here we are 
brought face to face with a question which is raised by Meyer's 
discussion. Meyer does not consider the law an inner law of the lan- 
guage itself, which would absolutely control the clausulee of any writer 





suggest. For example, such a case as air@ zai 6 vids is a 2 form ac- 
cording to written accents alone, but not by any means certainly to be 
read so, on account of the heavy accent immediately preceding x«é. If 
such cases are separated, the possible error is avoided. Zosimus shows 
only four such cases (see pp. 443—4) in 280 clausule ; that is, by reading 
the clausule by the last two written accents, we are led astray in only 
1.4+°/, of the total. 

1 Book III in the Corpus. 

2 Orat. VII, Migne 87, 3, first 100 clausule. 

5 Orat. I, Migne 97, first 100 clausule. 

* Book I in the Corpus, first 100 clausule. 

5 Orat. II, Migne 85, 

° De Regno, Migne 66, first 100 clausule. 

7 Theophrastus, Migne 85, first 100 clausule. 

Remark. Clausule are counted only before the heavier marks of 
punctuation. 


Trans. Conn. Acap., Vol. X1V. 30 Aprin, 1910. 


448 HI. B. Dewing, 


who comes within its influence, but rather a fashion (Mode) which 
some writers consciously ignored. Litzica, as noted above, protests. 
against the use of the word law at all; but there is still need to 
repeat all the tests made by him with the correct form of the law 
as stated above, and it is doubtful whether a single writer whom 
he classed as knowing nothing of the cursus will be found to be 
entirely outside the influence of Meyer’s law. From Part IV it will 
appear that Procopius of Czesarea, whom he considered far outside 
the law’s influence, is really under the influence of the “fashion”. 
The law is certainly much more far reaching in its application 
among the Byzantine writers than Litzica found it. This fact 
makes it evident that we are dealing with a law which some 
writers obeyed strictly, while the great majority of writers only 
showed a more or less decided tendency to conform to it. In some 
writers absolute regularity may fairly be expected, just as is the 
case with certain Latin writers such as Ammianus Marcellinus ; 
each writer must be considered separately in order to determine 
where this condition exists. When the traditional text of a writer 
shows as much as ten percent of irregularity, we may well hesitate 
to insist that every clausula should be forced into regularity by 
doing violence to written accents or emendation of the text, but 
some principle should be found for editing such a text. Since the 
manuscript tradition is of the greatest importance in settling this 
question, this must always be carefully considered and used in the 
light of the cursus law. The final resuit for any writer who has 
a cursus can not be given until the complete evidence of the 
manuscripts is brought to bear. For the present it is only safe to 
say that it is not known whether such writers as Zosimus and 
Agathias intended to show absolutely regular conformity to the 
law or not. 


Part [V.—Procopius oF CHSAREA. 


It is well understood that different writers of the classical period 
of Greek literature differed in their use of the quantitative rhythm. 
In some it is found very plainly marked, while in others it is used 
with much les§ care, while others again can be said to have no 
regular quantitative rhythm at all. The same situation may reason- 
ably be expected in the Byzantine writers: there are plainly certain 
writers who have an accentual cursus, but seem to admit much 
more license in following the law than the best writers. In each 


ae 


a 
- ae 





—-- 


Accentual Cursus in Byzantine Greek Prose. * 449 


writer who belongs to this class it is a matter of importance to 
define as closely as possible the extent of the law’s application. 

Procopius of Czesarea is one of the writers whom Litzica con- 
sidered entirely outside the circle of those who made use of the 
accentual cursus rhythm—one of those who know nothing of the 
cursus.! It must always be borne in mind that Litzica’s understand- 
ing of the law of the cursus was based wholly on Meyer's first 
statement. Proceeding on the hypothesis that forms 2, 3, 4, 5 and 
6 are all regular, Litzica pointed out that the clausule of Procopius 
show scarcely any more regularity than those of a writer of the 
classical period. The statistics seem amply to justify his statement, 
but his hypothesis is wrong; all his figures represent only totals of 
regular and irregular cases, without distinction of the particular 
forms. It is clear from the above that of the five forms which he 
massed together as regular only two (or three) are in fact regular. 
It is therefore necessary to make a new test of Procopius with the 
understanding that only forms 2 and 4 (and possibly form 6) are regular. 

The Persian War, ed. Haury, 1905, was used for the test which 
is described in the following. It should here be noted that this 
edition does not give us a text which is beyond question,? although 
it is based on a careful study of the Procopius manuscripts, nor is 
the apparatus criticus full enough to furnish all the evidence needed. 
All conclusions must therefore be made with reserve, and must 
constantly be regarded as conditioned by the judgment of an editor 
who takes no thought for the cursus law. 

In order to be on safe ground, only the clausule before periods 
are taken into account. It is reasonable to overlook the clausulz 
before the weaker marks of punctuation until complete certainty is 
reached with regard to the writer’s usage in clausule where it is 
absolutely certain that the cursus rhythm must be present, if it is 
present at all. 

There are 4098 clausulz before periods in the four books of the . 
Persian War; these are classed according to the various forms, 
without any deviation from the written accents; the last two written 
accents are provisionally treated as the theses of the clausulz, without 
regard to the kind of accent, or the apparent insignificance of the 
word on which the accent stands. The forms are distributed as 
follows : 





1 Compare the judgment of W. Crénert on Procopius: “—bei Zulassung 


jeglicher Hiate eine wohlberechnete Akzentrhythmik herrscht.”. Zur 


griechischen Satzrhythmik, Rhein. Mus. 54 (1899), p. 593 ff. 
2 Cf. W. Croénert, G6tt. gel. Anz. 1906, p. 396. 


450 H., B. Dewing, 


Form O0— 920. 
, = 4b: 
» 221975 
an poe oes 
-) 4 387 
av Oa yar 


The significance of these figures may be made clear by a com- 
parison with classical writers on the one hand, and with acknow- 
ledged cursus writers on the other. The following chart shows 
plainly where Procopius stands. 








Form Form Form Form Form Form Form 
0 1 2 3 4 is 6. 
60 °/5 aa A hei 





50 °/5 





40 °/, 














30 /g 


20, 























Lysias, Mantitheus, The Grain Dealers, Nicomachus, 
ed. Thalheim. 
Demosthenes, Androtion, ed. Blass, 


----------- Procopius of Cesarea, Persian War, ed. Haury. 


—-——-———  Zosimus IL in) Corpus Ser Jausts Byz. 





Accentual Cursus in Byzantine Greek Prose. 451 
The percentages charted on the preceding page are here tabulated : 


Forms 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 Reg. | Irreg. 


Lysias 9.4 +) 24.3 + 27.7 +209 +) 13.2 +) 3.4+) 1.2 +)42.1 +/57.8 + 


$<] | SS EE 


Procopius DOS See oyarl| See ad) WHS So) Mn Gie oi) 0) 63.0 -+| 36.7 + 


Zosimus 8.04] 74+/585+) 844/214+) 564+) 56+/8044/19.3 4+ 





It is to be noted that the proportion as between forms O and 
1 in Procopius forms a striking contrast to that in all the other 
writers; but it is in the percentages of forms 2 and 4 that the 
characteristics of the cursus become apparent. In form 2 he stands 
much nearer to Zosimus than to the others; again in form 3 his 
usage shows real improvement on the cursus model; his preference 
of form 4 above form 3 is a regular characteristic of those writers who 
sought the rhythm of the accentual cursus. It is therefore plain 
that the cursus is present in Procopius, but the indications are that 
it is far from perfect. 

There is still one factor to be considered; elision was not intro- 
duced in the reading of clausule except where indicated in the 
printed text. A large number of Procopius’ clausule are concerned 
in this matter since there are many opportunities to elide short 
vowels between the last two words, as well as many cases in which 
aphzeresis or crasis might reasonably be introduced. In the quan- 
titative rhythm of Demosthenes all such cases of hiatus would be 
avoided in one of these three ways; further, there is every reason 
to believe that in the pronunciation of the living language of clas- 
sical times elision was common. In order not to assume anything 
regarding Procopius, it must be considered conceivable that all his 
clausulee be treated exactly as those of Demosthenes should in this 
particular matter. It is necessary to be absolutely certain that this 
factor will not make the above conclusions useless; the follow- 
ing table is therefore given to show the resuit when elision of a 
short vowel, wherever possible, as well as apheresis and crasis are 
consistently introduced. Demosthenes, Androtion (ed. Blass) is chosen 
for comparison, and the figures given above are used again since 
they are taken from a text in which the editor consistently intro- 
duces elision, aphzeresis and crasis in the printing. 
| Forms | 0 1 2 3 4 | 5 6 | Ree. | Irree. 


Procopius [23.7 +)18.5 +/45.8+) 3.1+| 82 Bt | >. 3 QO |54.0+) 45.6 + 
Demosthenes| 15 0 +|30.9 +|87.6+/11.0+| 89+) 13+4| 0 (415+/582+ 

















452 H. B. Dewing, 


This procedure leaves Procopius with a much lessened percentage 
of regularity —54 + as against 63+ in the former test—but the cursus 
characteristics are still apparent in the proportions of the 2, 3 and 4 
forms. Leaving the question of elision, apheresis and crasis for the 
sake of argument undecided, there is sufficient ground for maintain- 
ing that the cursus law is operative in the prose of Procopius. It 
remains to define the extent of its application; the principles followed 
are those deduced above from the usage of Zonaras and Zosimus. 

In the following an attempt is made to enumerate all the cases 
in which the regular forms are to be recognized. It is safest to 
make a start from the formal classification by written accents alone. 


I. Perfect clausule of the 2 and 4 forms. 

In these cases the rhythm is plainly marked by written word 
accents, the written accents, namely, of the last two words, except 
in case an enclitic or proclitic intervenes; hiatus, if present, is weak. 

Form 2: 1734 (2 Us2eih2 


3 , ~ C 
EPEVETO THE. 12,8. 
\ é THe tts 

To maodnay avdvos. 225, 26: 
yodpew ove Eyw. 447, 10. 


Form 4. 310 (4 I; 4 I) 


UEETHS TEM OLNUEVOY. LSI 6: 
dooupogors 6 Me&tuivos. 506, 23-24. 


In 59 cases the thesis is marked by what would seem to be a 
weak spoken accent. 
Form 2. 59 (2 Ill) 


moopcAdc chat Ev taig EvuBoacis. 267, 6. 
élvat tovs mokeutous. 387, 23; 388, 1. (Form 4?) 
olol Te avtiteively Eiol 176, 10. 


In certain cases the force of the first accent is weakened by a 
heavy accent immediately preceding it. 
Form 2. 65 (2 IV) 


ovde yoortoi Edogey Elva. 455, 23. 
ndovns yéyovev aiodrats. 190, 15. 
ZUZAOTE QOS ovens MVOUCOT CL. 131, 15-16. 


Form 4. 18 (4 II) 


Tequava@ lnuvtées mooseyworou. 505, 13. 





+ The number of cases included under each head is given; the numbers 
in parentheses refer to the tables of forms (see Appendix). 





ie tte a Pee BE ce 


di te aa a at a lal hi a ES a - _— 


> 








Accentual Cursus in Byzantine Greek Prose. 453 


The total of all cases included in Class I is 2183, more than half 
the grand total of 4098. These clausule are all regular in the 
strictest sense; in no case is a written accent disregarded. 


Il. Clausulz to be read as of the regular forms, by departing 
from written accents. 

A. There are, first of all, a large number of cases where a logi- 
cally subordinate word, although bearing a written accent, may be 
read without stress, whereupon a regular form becomes evident. 
All these cases are certainly regular. The words whose accent is 
considered negligible are the following: the article in all cases, xc: 
and dé, 7), «, 7 (as) and the copula; the accents acquired from en- 
clitics are treated in the same way as the accents which stand on 
these words. 


Form 2. 149 (0, V,a, 1. 0, V, b, 4. 4, IV, a, 1, 3. 1, IV, b, 4)! 


Roornuévovs TO ovyyvwuor. 441, 20. 
imepelas zal gdouyée. 156, 6—7. 
avtize dn uch. 255, 6. 
moéenew cv OgEle. 166, 17. 
uchhoy 4 me6tEgor. 448, 3-4. 
Llegomy tov hoyiuor. 113, 9. 
FEeoamevoct ii Bovdorto. 25, 26. 
TOLY@V 710A OY OTC. 64, 20-21. 
(Counting ovt«e without stress.) 
EGEGIML TOUTO YE. 285, 5. 
déouce dds woe. 202, 22—238. 
ovdevos EvdEns Ein. ASO =o. 
(Counting «in without stress.) 
Edosav th €vupodi, Evel. 188, 19. 
(Counting «/vae without stress ) 
wdé my elyer. 479, 19. 
ToLovtbs tts HY. 126; 9=10: 
uéya Te yonuc. 519, 19. 
T#UTN TN EryE. 300, 18. 
Boones. oo (0, V,.a, 2. 0; Vb; 2. 1, IV,.a,<2.°1,-IV,-b;, 2) 
Evuryjveyxev & te ucdote. 369, 20. 
ovy Hxoré ye tov Lpianor. 106, 14. (Form 2 ?) 
dieowoato tae vyzeiueve. 209; 12: 
“‘Podonotos zai Moynorots. 292, 17. 
TEGOKOES GTOKT YO! Hour. 36, 25. 


(joey without stress.) 





1 The references to the tables under Class II refer only to the first 
two columns; see Appendix. 


454 Al. B. Dewing, 


éni tovs moheutovs 4 Evupodn Eoteee. 120, 24. 
(éorae without stress ) 

avUiZoUS paveouy Eivae. 402, 19. 
(efvae without stress.) 


B. There are other cases where the pattern of the 2 and 4 form 
is present, but weakened by the presence of a heavy accent between 
the two accents which are taken as the theses of the clausula. 
Such cases should not be counted as strictly regular, and there 
should not be a great number of them in a writer who carefully 
sought the rhythm of the cursus. The presence of the rhythm 
should be clear without counting in cases of this type; they are 
regular only by sufferance. 

Form, 2.150 (Os) Val ot Verda 


év pEpai to Aornov FEGHae. 198, 34% 
EVOOVTES ohlyous Tivies EVGOS EXTELVEY. 14312 
votéooy dé nai mold wEsivwr. 162, 18-19. 
Svvataratog wy nucics touer. 125, 18. 
ino yeoot zuv@v Yevrctee. 339, 20: 
usyahowuylas Eb Hzwr. 346, 21. 
curyuvle J€ mMoAAy EizeEto. 245, 22. 
diapuyéiv wdhs toyvoer. 505 916: 
ovdev tovto moayuc. 1305se 
HYHETO adT@ névtor uUcsotc. 134, 16. 
tadte wey dr ovtws EGxE. 200, 2. 


Fornn 4: 29050 Vi 2 Vie) 


nvdounddiocy oyeduy marries. 164, 5 
ecuyl Kethoy moreuby éyovor. 104, 21: 
aionoely ov mohk@ Vvotéegor. 295, 19=20: 
ovte éxovotoy MddLS NvEeyZEr. 438, 1-2. 
cionoew ev omovds, ExortEs. 61:56: 
Tov megtBodov Evtos yeviotw. 6G 16=1 
am’ évavtlas adtay lovely. Si 20) 
tooadta wey xeet 0 Mrorlus Elev. 494, 8-9. 
ty Ent Haver ob Ijwuoe wyorer. 128, 3-4. 
aOEAYOS, TET@OTOS &UTOS. 501, 19-20. 


Ill. Cases into which enters the question of elision, aphzresis 
and crasis. 

A. Elision. There are altogether 421 clausulze in the Persian 
War as printed in the text used in which a short vowel could be 
elided. As these cases stand without elision, 191 fall into the 2 
form, and 38 into the 4 form. These cases correspond to Class I 





1 Many of these could be read equally well as 4 forms. 


te 


_ ia 


Accentual Cursus in Byzantine Greek Prose. 455 


above; they are perfectly regular if the hiatus be allowed to stand. 
Here, then, are 229 cases which will not show conformity to the 
regular forms if elision be consistently introduced. The number of 
syllables in arsi being lessened by one, 2 forms become 1 forms, 
and 4 forms become 3 forms. In the same way 35 forms fall to 
2 forms, and 5 forms to 4 forms; since the 3 forms as printed, 
where elision is possible, number 13, and the 5 forms 7, we should 
have only 20 regular cases left from the 421 before us. This strange 
result makes it seem unlikely that elision is to be consistently ad- 
mitted; taking this body of cases alone, and avoiding elision, we 
find the six forms of clausulz standing in about the same proportions 
as those found above to be normal for the Persian War; whereas 
consistent elision makes the proportions of the various possible 
forms absolutely different from the normal. The percentage of 
regularity is divided by ten; not only this, but form 1 would oc- 
cupy almost half the field (191 out of 421). But since this body 
of 421 clausule is not taken at random from the whole, it is not 
safe to insist that the different forms can be expected to stand in 
the proportions found normal for the whole Persian War. But full 
and satisfactory evidence is at hand in the usage of other writers 
who show an accentual cursus rhythm and in the Political Verses, 
as set forth above. This evidence makes it clear that the following 
principle should be adopted for Procopius: elision need not he 
consistently introduced in reading clausulae, nor yet consistently 
avoided; the manuscripts are not a safe guide in such a matter, and 
elision may be introduced when the cursus rhythm requires it, and 
elided vowels may be restored against the authority of the manu- 
script tradition. On the other hand, the frequent hiatus which is 
produced by this procedure makes it plain that Procopius is not 
a careful writer according to the best standards of his time. 

There are, as stated above, 229 cases which may be read as 
regular clausule by permitting the objectionable hiatus, without 
departing from the written accents. 


Form 2. 191 (2, V) 


a ee * - 
EVEVETO WIE. 122, 7-8. 
colote lve. 88, 24. 
, 3 ’ Lay | lof 
toge Evyoyour. 212, 1%. 


Form 4. 38 (4, IV) 


mony yEhhouevee ExTELELY. 514, 7 
év to) maodvt avdounyadilecdee. 468, 13. 
ibumuoe wvoucdleto. 461, 5: 


456 H. B. Dewing, 


Form 3. 13 (8, IV). becoming 2 forms by elision. 
bo TOO EtEAEVTA. 7a al bles 
Te Yotuuata Emote. 363, 16. 
Form 5. 7 (5, II). becoming 4 forms by elision. 


CELOFEUTO EMLELR@S BOT. 199, 235 
évavtinuce tmotondétwr, 1135 de 


The following cases containing hiatus are certainly to be added 


to the regular list; here the accent of a weak word is counted out 
as in Class II, A above. 


Form (2. 22 (OQ, V,.a, te (OF Vins etal DV asl A VE aoa) 


oiot TE Eivee. oS ely 
Evyyoaypi 0é chp tear. 5, 13. 
buiv J& Hy ucyn. 421, 21-22. 


Form.-4.°5:(O}V, a, 25 O05 V5, bien dG a a, 2d VG by 


nvetoy J& ovdér. 409, 78. 
Evvéxeito és thy capeéuv. 115.72 
In a number of other cases the regular patterns are present, but 
violated. 
Fotm (22°5. (Ge Vn) 
O wey Tadt@ ime. 42, 15: 
TO Golotegoy Addon Eneuper. (210 =e 
Form 4. 64 (O, VI, 2. 4, V, 2) . 
Eyonto ovdEevt Ley. 535, 19-20. 
of moéoBEets Toowdt@ éimor. 114, 5. 
Still other cases may be brought to conformity to the regular 


forms by introducing elision against the manuscripts. 
Form: 2:°33"(O} Xa vale) 


Evveveytivta ody EQYoUc!, 45, 13-14. 

Acavois doxodvta etn. 2905 ae 
Form 4. 32 (O, X, 2. 1, VII, 2) 

ta €vvolcovta é¢ Bovdny EoyEeode. 395, 3-4. 


THOTH TWOLHTEC Ein. 30, 12. 


Two cases occur in which an elision as printed in the text may 
be removed to produce a regular form. . 


Tetixce &9vn tadr’ éxcdovr. S114 10: 
(radta éxchour.) 

get (3 ’ c 

éljtouy éy’ @ xtEivwot. 126, 22—23. 


(éni @ xteivwot, making a 4 form.) 





Accentual Cursus in Byzantine Greek Prose. 457 


B. Apheeresis. There are 207 cases in which hiatus could be 
avoided by apheresis. It is not certain whether the possible 
apheresis should be consistently avoided, but this would seem to 
be the safest course. Reading these cases as printed in the text, 
we find the following cases to be added to the regular list. 


Form 2. 151 (2, VI) 


Epwuévov EuniuTbeaHce. 18, 4. 

mohguig Edbvayto. 43, 23. 
Form 4. 24 (4, V) 

GTOMTOMEVEVOUEVOL ETOQEKOYTO. 38, 9-10. 

uEtamoleiodae EGEMLOTEUEVOS. B19, L122. 


There are 17 additional cases in which the regular patterns are 
present but violated (except in one Case). 
Form. 2. 2 (O, V, a, 4. 5, ID 


pacthet &5 ta ucdote. 347, 19. 
Form 4. 15.(O, VI, 2. 1, V, 2. 3, IIl,,b) 

ti Avtwvivy évtvyeiv AoC. Nye ey 

ducBortm é¢ yar oven. 327, 9. 


©. Grasis.. Here, as in the case of apheresis, there seems no 
warrant to consistently read with crasis in order to avoid hiatus. 
As the text stands there are 18 cases where crasis might be rea- 
sonably expected. The following are regular: 

Eon 2. 6 (1;,1V, a, 1. O, V,;b,1) 


Nolet Tae EYxLA UAT. 368, 4—5. 
Form 4. 4 (1, IV, a, 2..0, V, b, 2) 
EGHULVE Te EGOUEVE. 193) 12-13. 


In 6 more cases the regular patterns are present but violated ; 
(Omid. ©; VIj.224, V2) 

IV. Various possibilities. There are 42 cases of the type é «brovs 
navev; the frequent occurrence of this type suggests that the regular 
pattern of the 2 form should be here recognized, by stressing the 
preposition! (in every case an elided form), and counting out the 





1 The placing of an ictus on such forms as én’ is easily paralleled in 
the Political Verses; im’ bears an ictus in Tzetzes I, 222 (ed. Kiessling) ; 
so ex in VII, 260. It may also be noted that the full form ézi, nod 
etc. are often stressed on the first syllable in the Political Verses; so 
neoé is stressed on the first syllable in Constantinus Manasses (Corpus 
Scr. Hist. Byz.) v. 2787; so émi in v. 1047. 


458 Hi. B. Dewing, 


accent of the pronoun; in 7 cases the first personal pronoun is 
present; in all the rest are forms of «tod. 


Form 2. 42 (0, VIII) 


muvti TH atout@ en’ abtovs HAPEV. 184-6=7-. 
otoatoy @yEéious én’ avTOvS 1El. 10, 12133 
Te 100 Huey thee. 353, 19. 


There are 41 cases which should be considered of the same type 
as in’ airovs HAdev; in all these a written accent on a pronoun is 
subordinated, while a preceding monosyllable forms the first thesis 
of the clausula (a dissyllable occurs once—ézég); in some cases this 
thesis coincides with a written accent; in some a proclitic must be 
stressed. 

Form 2. 44 (0, IX) 


‘Poucioy moozadovuevov 71 0S CUTaS, Iioorvtce. 279, 20—2le 
ty yvouny &v corots EGEVTO. BBY SB 24h. 
tT otbAw Eig Hues HxE. 414, 21. 
anagovv tneo avins Iryoxey. 405, 18. 

te Evvoicovt« éoydlecdee toils abtod modéyucoww. 228. A=: 
Svvatateros wv nucis tower. 125, 18. 


Cases like the above, but more violent are the following. 
Form 2. 75)(0; VilMaetav bao ih) 


és peyny Wourvto. 28, 22. 
(Occurs 16 times.) 

ovx é¢ uaxouy delSovorr. 33, 19-20. 
(Occurs 4 times ) 

pootoloy obz% Mopahes HY. 526, 12. 
(Count out 7v.) 

vyOVv ov MagovemY oytoty. 300, 1—2. 
(Stress od and count out opiow.) 

év omovd), Etye. 286, 22. 


(Occurs 7 times.) 
Form 4. 5 (0, VII, 2.) 


Ev MaOMOxXELT EYELW. 287, 14. 
és to @xoUBES NOxNTO. al, 8. 


There remain 46 cases in which regularity may be found in 
various ways; these cases follow. 


uetuBadevy &o tu xvdveoy navtEhas toyvoer. 341, 14. 


Form 4 may be read if xvcveoy be made a trisyllable with synizesis. 


VEvousvoL xuTH xooLVEnY BéAdwoty. 471, 18. 





Accentual Cursus tn Byzantine Greek Prose. 459 


The Political Verses, as noted above, show cases of the dissyllabic 
prepositions bearing an ictus on the first syllable; by reading zér« 
in this case, there appears the pattern of the 4 form, although it is 
violated by the accent on zoovyjy. A similar case is the following: 


> , Cie ~ ” € 29 — 
EMEUMOVTO HVC GY ETOS. 329, 7. 


Cases of the following type are puzzling: 


Ety quiv évtadbe Elo. 449, 21—22. 
ag , ‘ r . L i lS 
wolxntos ywow Ett MAE vs EOTL. 187, 19—20. 


In the following reading «trod produces either form 2 or 4, ac- 
cording as zy is stressed or not. 


THY UNtéon THY Eavtod ExtELWEY. 85, 12. 


In several cases a plain 2 form is produced by reading iota as 
a consonant. 1! 
EnimooodEv Lovtc. 241, 18. 
to houmov EvuBiorevery. 207, 19—20. 
This license may not be justly assumed for such an early period 
as that of Procopius, but at a later period it must have been very 
common, as is shown by its frequent occurrence in the Political 
Verses of Demetrius Zenus (16th. century). 
After exhausting all possibilities, there still remain a number of 
irregular cases. 


Form 0. 227 (0, I) 


zat Aakizny évdiovs anaoar. 224, 24. 

ovnw xui viv TéOELOL. 9416, 
Hora. 1.59-(0, I 4; 1) 

Adym ovdevi “Pauciovs Eye 53, 20: 

Toowdre uséy of MoEoxELS Elmor. 220, 26. 
Porm 3. 73'(0; Il. 3,1) 

tovtov Ehcooort JiEloyeatoy chAjsucy. 308, 23-24. 

tnavtes Xoloticvol yEeyevnuévol. CS UG ailist 
Form 5. 14 (5, I) 

Encdynocatue diEvoovvto. 118, 24. 

BaoBuowrtepoy EoxEdaouévor. 501, 22—23. 


The final result reached is this: as the text stands, a uniform 
conformity to the cursus law can not be found in Procopius. There 
are too many cases which seem to admit of no explanation (12.63+°/9), 
while the percentage of perfectly plain regular cases is too small 





1 This license is commonly assumed in reading the Latin accentual 
cursus. 


460 H. B. Dewing, 


(68.9 + °/,) to justify the expectation that the law will be consistently 
applied. The answer can not be finally made to the question pro- 
posed above as to the exact extent of the law’s application in Pro- 
copius, until the manuscript tradition is thoroughly reviewed with 
the cursus law in view. Provisionally, however, it may safely be 
maintained that the cursus law is plainly operative in Procopius, 
but its application is not thorough. 

There are numerous indications of wilful neglect of the cursus 
rhythm in Procopius’ language which show that a regular cursus 
was not sought by him. For example, a sentence is often closed 
with the phrase ée@v éoyouce, which makes a perfectly regular form 
of clausula impossible. Even where the 4 form is suggested, as 
Egésuhev, éoav Eoyouc (164-22), the written accent of éody standing in 
arsi plainly violates the rhythm. In such a case as éordédn, éody 
éozouce (865—6, 7), there is absolutely no trace of a regular form. 
It is a plain case of neglect of the cursus; for a similar formula 
was at hand which makes a perfect 2 form: goyouw 4é&wy, found in 
Zosimus, V, 38. The case becomes absolutely certain when it is 
added that Procopius has as clausule /éer égyouce (327-2) and 
yotooy égyouce (807—3), either of which would make a perfect 2 form 
if the order were reversed. Other phrases which are frequently 
found transgressing the law are the following: 


éyo dnhdow, 84, 3; 422, 12 ete. 
énoice Tade. 15, 6; 509, 16 ete: 
ovdEvos Nooor. 157, 14; 158, 22 ete. 
Es Edapos nadeEtacy. 60, 17; 248, 24—25 ete. 


All these phrases, except otdevos jooor, would make a_ perfectly 
regular form of clausula if the order of words were reversed. 

Other cases of a like character are added to these to make it 
clear that this repeated violation of the cursus rhythm is not limited 
to set phrases alone. In each case a reversal of order would make 
a regular form. 


deérs ndesev. 458, 8=9: 
EyWoovy 1Qdd. 5ID SOs 
(Cf. 1od0m éydoovr. 91-16.) 

cadytwy &lev. 24, 9 
ExWAvey O vOUCS. (éxidvev) 49, 4. 
UEVELY ELEOED. 70, 6. 
MEVOOW ENLIMVTCL. a, 3 
‘Pouciot eoyor. 74, 30. 
Baothei pégovow. tl, 85 
ZGLOQSOOY MeMAYTKS. 87, 10. 


fvuBaivee éive. LO1;- 20; 





Accentual Cursus in Byzantine Greek Prose. 461 


It is impossible to suppose that the order in such cases is a per- 
version by the manuscript tradition of an order which originally 
conformed to the cursus forms; their occurrence is entirely too 
common to allow such an explanation. It is rather necessary to 
believe that Procopius wilfully neglected the cursus rhythm in many 
of his clausule—a neglect which is doubtless to be explained by 
his constant imitation of Herodotus and Thucydides. Nevertheless, 
the cursus rhythm was plainly known to him, and he should be 
classed as a writer who consciously sought that rhythm without 
insisting on producing it with unchanging regularity. 


¢ 
i 
Z 





APPENDIX 


The tables here given contain statistics of all the clausulze be- 
fore periods in the Persian War of Procopius of Czesarea, and set 
forth the data on which the foregoing conclusions are based. The 
clausule are separated into forms as marked by written accents 
alone; after this formal classification the certainly irregular forms 
are separated from those which are only apparently so, and the 
final result of this sifting process is given in the general summary 
at the end. 


“lo +F°6G = 066 | TT 6 ve | SS | Ist | OF9 


463 











i IT — Jomoa paplye Suloysai— F WAOfF JO U19}9eg [TX 
tI al! | sac ‘ . ; i ; ; y UslOy G 
Or or | halit Ve : ; : ; y ‘ ; z UnOd “T 
uOIs!a Sujonposjuy— suns0}y Ie[nsed jo ws98q4eg X 
If 2 Olas s ; : -  aagyl Saoran ,uz ad&y ayv7 XT 
Re aE rap ile ; : : : ; : argyle s oman ua addy, TITA! 
2 9 ees a | : . ° . . ° . . . fp UOT — 
Gr 69 Ole res : ; ; , ; . : ; Genera! 
| ongtpoord WoO ssexj8—SUIIOF IE[M. Sat jo uteyeg T]A 
Ss 1ST | z 8 POG a liOe ANE Gr, | oa titers ty -  } wiog 2 
a Gel | & PGI ca atm Ayu A time cree ek Ce. ee utO | 
_qUa]OFA suo} Jensei Jo u1eqy3eVq TA | 
ey IEG Leas aks ; ; ‘ : : : fF UOT °Z 
= Q] Z |e | 9 ; F : : : ; ; é ; Z wio0gq “T 
S | SISoyy 9SB] Jeqye JUeoow WoyyTIM WeoM “q 
z 8 OR ee a /  p UOT % 
QQ 9TT if ir |6 GOL) — : d ; ; y j ; ‘ G UOT T 
e ISdv UL JUG00B W94QLIM YRaA\ “eB 
‘= | yep — sunt0y IepnSei fo usleqyeg A 
< CT | I FI : ; ‘ ; p ; sargttiqissod snoweaA AT 
a Il | Il : : 5 : ; : peel oq 0} @ UIOF Jo UI0QIVG TTT | 
3 bl F | | a ee : : : : ; ; peal oq 09 T WAOF JO UI9IQeG TT 
L 126 | Z | leg |99T| ° e : : : : * guoserd u1eqyed azepnsat ON T 
3 o | Hiss SD | oe the j 2 aioe 
$ lele>l gl fl a] 2 
S 2 ise] &| Z| ¢| ° 
= a) e8|e6) 8 |e) By 
STVLOL | © a Beles |b | = | 
| (3 | S/RE} 3] B| a. 
= S| &) gs | 
| Pr aa ede 


Trans. Conn. Acap., Vol. XIV. 





| 
| 
| 


‘OGG WAOF sTYyZ Jo [eJO]L 
0 WHO 


Aprit, 1910. 


1 


3 








Al. B. Dewing, 


464 


FORM 1 
Total for this form 475. 




















s 
Cape - | Sts, aroha zy 
ae eee ORR 
Bla le | 
4 EPS eek ne 
sea hela ee SS aa aeteoy eens, 
a {er Ses i cerest lhe Ss 
HX | & esas 
eests-baia Fast nm 
° py) Behe iis ae 
Zaha alae a 4g 
—| eee es Es -] |-— 
No regular pattern present . : : : ; ‘ ' roa 822 | fee 8 
Pattern of form 3 to be read : ; : 5; : : eat ea 2B 
Various possibilities pal 4 | | 
ee of regular forms—plain | 
Weak accent in arsi | | | 
le deKoyeooy 2) 19 2 13 | 
2. Form 4 ; : : ; : : : ‘ 15 1 ial ional | 
3 Form wdé an elyev : : , ; 1 5 | | 
. Weak accent after last thesis | | 
Form 4 . : é : ; 1 | 
Pattern of regular for ms—violent | | | 
1. Form 2 : : : 15 4 5 | | 
2. Horm 4 ; 3 : LOZ | S30" =26—| | 6 
Pattern of regular forms—stress on proclitic | | 
oui Dye oe as ; , : ; 2) | | 
Pattern of regular for ms—introducing ‘elision | | | 
1, Form 2 | | 23 | 
2. Form 4 ; ; | | 18 
Pattern of form 2-—restoring elided vowel . | | eal 
| 
230 eeclan 5B | | 41 | 14 


Crasis avoided | 


TOTALS 





47D - 





Nati B+ 9), 0/4) 


Accentual Cursus tn Byzantine Greek Prose. 465 


FORM 2 


Total of this form 2197. 


Ss 

| = 

| zt 
I Reena: ‘ ’ ; op i550" 

| II Enclities and prolities in arsi. = pat 2 

eee Weak accent used as thesis . | 52 

IV Heavy accent preceding first thesis | 57 


V Elision avoided 
VI Apheeresis avoided 


FORM 3. 
Total of this form 94. 








Nn 
: & TOTALS 
eas 
141 | 1691 
9g 40 
t 59 
5 65 
191 
ila 


[2197 — 53. 6+%), 











| | | peed he 
ay | | 
| mM | nD) Ss = nS . Fi = 
| ees) Ou 
AMT E Bi &| 
eS = a ee 22 222255 
I No regular pattern present . | 41 8 | 8 | 57 
| II Various possibilities 12 | 12 
III Form 4 to be read | 
a. Plain : : : : 1 | 1 
| jaynolenbas, ek) Phd eos Tala 
IV Elision introduced 13 13 
| | | 94 —92 Q+o| 
| | 0 | 
FORM 4. 
_ Total of this form 387. 
a Rae ee. | ae 
| Ws 3 | Ss 3 | TOTALS 
i ek) 2S Snare oe elt 
peer, . °.| 975 | 21 | 296 
Il Enclitics and proclitics i in arsi : 8 6 14 
JIl Heavy accent preceding first thesis 18 | 18 
IV Elision avoided 38 
V Apheeresis avoided . 21 
3879.44 
FORM 5. 
Total of this form 25. 
eae ; we es =# 
| 8 B a 
| 2/4 3/83/8S| TOTALS 
oS e813 S/55 
; AR o els | 
| i No ae oe ee ; 12 | 2 |14 
_ II Form? to be read—stress on proclitic 3 | | | 4 
IIL Elision introduced , : | he ute 7 
bao == 6 





466 H. B. Dewing, Accentual Cursus in Byzantine Greek Prose. 


GENERAL SUMMARY. 
































[ ss | Z 3 
| 2|42 (3882) TOTALS 
of | Os |b ARs 
: AD FO | AR<0 
F . Form 2 .! 1818; 186 384 | 2388 lox 
I Regularity Plain | Form 4 .| 330 34 7 =| «439 2827 
a eae as Form 2 .| 248 57 AU Bae 
Il Regularity Violent Form 4 eso 80 114 401 753 
III Regularity Appar. Impossible! 394 JO). 2G SEs 
| 2997 | 454 | 647 4098 | 


518 = 12.63-+°), apparently show no trace of regularity. 

- 2368 = 57.7+°l2 show perfectly plain regularity, omitting all cases in- 
volving elision, apheresis and crasis. 

2827 = 68.9-F" show perfectly plain regularity, including all cases in- 
volving elision, apheresis and crasis, 


The classes in the above table are represented in the preceding 
tables as follows: 


Class I Class II Class III 
a Form 0, V entire Form 0, VI Form 0, I 
ates es Niet ee 5 ae VAL Paso Ue i 
e. 2 oe OLAV ILE a) fa UT 
it oval ga) ey krone pai: Yee AY 
yea ay: ses ONE op | ea 
as entire oy HOM INT nll 
aso lit St iaee WV Prag reli! 
acme. NE es | 
Pees Lae V4 OE a> OR 
nee deel ED s aon 
a Sec. ity 
ces SE 


2: 


mi 


nt 


gop 
aw 





ab rew Eas ol 


Figure 1.—Longitudinal section of stem-apex, showing growing-point 
and manner of development of leaves and axillary buds; £1, 
LU, LW, &c., primary leaves; 4, 40, &c., 40", 40D, &c., 
leaves of axillary buds of Z!, ZL", &c.; G P, main growing- 
point of stem; gf), ef), &c., growing-points of axillary 
buds; ab, line where such a cross section as is represented in 
Plate VII, figure 43, might be cut perpendicular to plane of 
paper. >< 30. 


Figure 2.—Sketch from living specimen, showing vegetative branch 
system in a young stage; /, //, I/II, IV, &c., primary leaves. 
4 natural size. 


Figure 3.—-Cross section of axial bundle of stem, showing endo- 
dermis, sieve tubes, central cavity formed by disorganization 
of tracheae, &c. >< 300. 


Figure 4.—Cross section of stem. > 60. 


Figure 5.—Cross section of epidermis, cortex and endodermis of 


Sue,  S< Blo, 


L VIIl. 





shs. of LIS. 








a Oo =) = 

H Ux zs a A + a 
; : ; J S / 
yo \ i Se g any fs 
iT pe \ \ < WA Sines 1 
EY ar 7p day 
OY Br ee 

y/ J / 


ay ye Le ieee . PX MS 
4A NS fast OK | 
ANAS | RIL 
Selo | y 2 4 SC, K 









ce Coy ad 
ORR) 105 





4 





ch-—- ---- — 








JIN, JUL 


Figure 6.—Sketch from living specimen, showing vegetative branch 
system in a mature stage, just previous to the appearance of 
flowers. Abbreviations as in figure 1. 4 natural size. 


Plate II 








~ 4 


. 
wi 
s 


t 
* 





ie Ase see 


Figure 7.—Photomicrograph of cross section of stem, showing axial 
bundle, endodermis, cortex, lacunae, and epidermis. >< 30. 


Figure 8.—Photomicrograph of cross section of stem, axillary bud 
and subtending leaf; showing axillary scales, vegetative scale 
leaf surrounding axillary bud, secretion cells, &c. >< 25. 


Figure 9.—Photomicrograph of cross section of rootstock; showing 
axial bundle, endodermis, cortex, lacunae, cortical bundles, epi- 
dermis, and starch-grains in cortex. >< 50. 


Figure 10.—Photomicrograph of cross section through node of root- 
stock; showing two roots developing, and epidermis of root- 
stock over each root becoming meristematic. >< 365. 


Figure 11.— Photomicrograph of cross section through rhachis ; show- 
ing axial bundle with lacunae, &c., and surrounding stamen, 
with its two thecae, connective, &c. > 3d. 


Figure 12.—Photomicrograph of longitudinal section through end 
of rhachis; showing its blunt apex and various sections of pistils 
and anthers. >< 35. 


Plate: Tl 


“1 


C2 


ay 


~ 
2, 


AA 


x, 











Pe Nae Sy, 


Figure 13.—Drawing of cluster of fruit about mature. > 5. 


Figure 14.—Surface view of epidermis of stipe (young stage); show- 
ing secretion cells. >< 212. 


Figure 15.—Cross section of mature stipe ; showing epidermis, cortex, 
and axial bundle ; intercellular spaces and lacunae stippled; 
X = apparently halved epidermal cells. >< 185. 

Figure 16.—Part of cross section of stipe, showing strengthened 
epidermis, part of cortex, lacunae and small intercellular spaces. 
>< 212. 


Plate LV 








13 








S 
S 


2; 


Us 


axb~"~ 





Lp 
: oee.ws 
tL, 


CO 


00) 




















JPET Be WE 


Figure 17.—Diagrammatic representation of median longitudinal sec- 
tion through stem and axillary branch; L, subtending leaf; 
vascular portions stippled. >< 212. 


Figure 18.—Diagrammatic representation of median longitudinal 
section through stem at base of inflorescent branch system, 
showing the course of the vascular bundles. Vascular portions 
stippled. >< 212. 


Figures 19-24.—A series of cross sections through stem beginning 
just below point of leaf insertion and extending up into leaf, 
showing course of cortical bundles from stem to leaf and in- 
dependent origin of new cortical bundles in the stem. >< 30. 


Plate V 














Pi A evel 


Figure 25.—Photomicrograph of longitudinal section through stem 
apex; showing growing point and leaves in successive stages 
of development, similarly as in Pl. I, fig. 1. >< 40. 


Figure 26.—Photomicrograph of apical portion of leat, not quite mat- 
ure; showing marginal teeth. >< 35. 


Figure 27.—Photomicrograph of cross section of root; showing 
epidermis, exodermis, cortex, endodermis and axial vascular 
bundle. >< 60. 


Figure 28.—Photomicrograph of young leaves surrounding growing- 


2 


point, dissected from living specimen. >< _ 36. 


Figure 29.—Photomicrograph of portion of epidermis near apex of 
root; showing trichoblasts (the darkly stained cells). >< 40. 


Figure 30.—Photomicrograph of surface of leaf treated with a five 
per cent solution of potassium hydroxide; showing epidermal 
secretion cells and central vascular bundle. The marginal teeth 
havé been worn off. >< 30. 


Figure 31.—Photomicrograph of a cross section through a node of 
the stem showing the origin of a single root—the typical con- 
dition. In this figure the meristematic layers at the growing 
point of the root are clearly defined. > 35. 

Figures 32 and 33.—-Photomicrographs of adjoining portions of a 
nearly median longitudinal section through the root apex, show- 
ing trichoblasts. (The root cap was slightly separated from the 
growing-point in preparation.) >< 50. 


Figure 34.—Photomicrograph of cross section of young peduncle, 
showing axial bundle, lacunae in cortex, &c. >< 38. 


Plate VI 















5 E 8 
Bah aos ieee 


Re tie rane 
TS Gee rin ia ie 





PAV ovale 


Figure 35.—Sketch of flower bud; showing basal sheaths of sub- 
floral leaves enclosing young flower. >< 5. 

Figure 36.—Sketch of portion of plant; showing horizontal root- 
stock and arrangement of roots and upright shoots. 4 natural 
size. 

Figure 37.—Group of cells from vegetative scale leaf. >< 162. 


Figure 38.—Coleorrhiza from which young root has been forced 
Out >< el0: 


Figure 39.—Young leaf; showing teeth limited to extreme apex 
and comparatively large basal sheath. >< 212. 


Figure 40.—The vegetative scale leaf, detached, and flattened 


Ou SO: 


Figure 44.—Longitudinal section through young inflorescence, 
showing floral scale leaf developing in connection with the 


flowers. >< 30. 
Figure 42.—Floral scale leaf 7v situ, close to young flowers. > 4. 


Figure 43.—Cross section through vegetative bud, a little below 
the region of the growing point, cut at about the level shown 
by the line aé in figure 1. Abbreviations as in figure 1. The 
line a6 in this figure represents the plane perpendicular to the 
paper, in which a longitudinal section such as is shown in 
figure 1 would lie. >< 65. 


late, Vell 
























































shs 


--[1 




















; 
; 
, 
eX 
“ i 
4 
roe = hy P 
aS 
: 
: 
| a 
* rn ce " 
~~ rod A | 
23 
F 
se 
. , 
é 
A 
; e 
- 
5 
‘ 
d 
‘Sat, 
ie ee : 
4 a 
: = 
vs al 
Ge, 
eT 4 
ij 4 
bes 
(= ae ; 
’ 4 
am - 4 : 
5 





Jeiiyavd bles WAU 


Figure 44.—Longitudinal section of young root still enclosed in the 
stem; showing its origin in the stem, the meristematic epider- 
mis and subepidermis in the stem above root apex and the 
four meristematic layers in the root. >< 210. 


Figure 45.—Portion of rootstock and root; the latter showing cole- 
orrhiza. >< 6. 


Figure 46.—Cross section of vascular bundle of root with endoder- 
mis; showing tracheae and sieve tubes. >< 400. 


Figure 47.—Longitudinal section of vascular bundle of root, also 
with endodermis and, to the left, three layers of cortical par- 
enchyma; showing tracheae, sieve tube, companion cell and 
undulations in walls of cortical parenchyma. >< 400. 











PIs ese, D6 


Surface view of cells from epidermis of root, showing 





Figure 48. 
root hairs developing from the trichoblasts. >< 210. 


Figure 49.—Rhachis with the two flowers; showing arrangement 
in the adult condition. >< 12. 


Figure 50.—Rhachis and young flowers; showing arrangement in 
young stage. >< 30. 


Figure 51.—Longitudinal section through nearly mature rhachis and 
flowers. >< 20. 
Figure 52.—Very young floral primordia. Stippled portions repres- 


ent regions which will develop the flowers. >< 210. 


Figure 53.—Slightly older floral primordia. Stippled portions rep- 
resent regions which will develop the flowers. >< 210. 


Figure 54.—Older floral primordia. Floral scale leaf appearing. 
>< 210. 


Figures 55 and 56.—Successively older stages in floral develop- 
ment. In figure 56 the primordia of pistils and stamens appear 
well defined. >< 60. 


Plate IX 





G 10 aTesaires Say 


Corned. 
































aan 
\ 
ON 
Si 


@ 
\ 
on 
\ Le 
OOO 
ny a 

bed 

~ wo 
a 


! ' / 
| / 
= | / 
SS e 
a Se 


= — Oas e 


BSG 




















PE Ada 


Figure 57, a and b.—Two views of a mature theca, the dotted 
triangular region representing the region of attachment to the 
connective. >< 30. 


Figures 58-66.—Median longitudinal sections illustrating develop- 
ment of the pistils. 


Figure 58.—Section through flower rudiment; showing primordia 
of two pistils, an anther-connective at each side. >< 75. 


Figure 59.—Section of older stage; showing the beginning of the 
development of the stylar canal. >< 79. 


Figure 60.—Older stage. >< 75. 


Figure 61.—Older stage. One-sided development of the pistils com- 
mences. >< 75. 





Figures 62 and 63. 
developed. > 75. 


Stigma commences to form. Stylar canal well 


Figure 64.—Stigma assumes peltate form. Ovule and embryo-sac 
well developed. >< 78. 


Figures 65 and 66.—Development to approximately the mature 
form of pistil; showing the gradual oblique orientation of ovule. 
Pisune 65, >< 7/55 fieure: 6b. oi. 


Plate X 














; it 
ae - Pas 
Ya 





Pi Acie el 


Figure 67.—Cross section through young theca of a flower 0.2 mm. 
long, the measurement being taken in the direction of the dotted 
line shown in figure 68. Stippled cells represent the arch- 
esporial initials. >< 600. 

Figure 68.—Section of young flowers from which figure 67 is drawn, 
the actual length of each flower being about 0.2 mm. x marks 
the region represented in figure 67. Dotted line shows direction 
for measurement of the length of the flower. >< 60. 


Figure 69.—Cross section through slightly older theca of a flower 
0.25 mm. long; showing division initiating development of 
septum, and also formation of the primary parietal layer. >< 600. 


Figure '70.—Section of flowers from which figure 69 is taken. 
x marks the region in figure 69. >< 60. 

Figure 71.—Cross section through theca of flower measuring about 
0.3 mm. in length; showing sporogenous cells in the two sacs 
of the theca, two parietal layers, in places, and septum. >< 600. 


Figure 72.—Section of flowers from which figure 71 is taken. 
x marks the region shown in figure 71. >< 60. 

Figure 73.—Cross section through theca of a flower measuring 
0.33 mm. in length; showing sporogenous cells in two sacs of 
theca, two parietal layers, and septum. >< 400. 


Figure 74.—Cross section through one of the sacs of a theca of 
a flower measuring about 0.56 mm. in length. Parietal layers 
often three in number. >< 400. 


Figure 75.—Group of cells from cross section of pollen-sac; show- 
ing pollen mother-cells surrounded by the still intact tapetum. 
>< 600. 


Figure 76.—Portion of section through older pollen-sac ; showing 
pollen mother-cells and dissolution of tapetal cells. >< 600. 


Figure 77.—Section of megasporangium showing two megaspore 
mother-cells and one parietal layer. >< 376. 


Figure 78.—Section of megasporangium showing four daughter- 
cells resulting from a double mother-cell, and also two parietal 
layers. >< 400. 

Figure 79.—Section of megasporangium ; showing the four poten- 
tial megaspores, the wall separating the two upper ones being 
approximately parallel to the plane of the paper. The three 
upper cells are all being resorbed. >< 375. 


Plate sxe 


A 


a eee 


Ces 
e 
ok 











[eae vel te) OU 


Figure 80.—Section of megaspore mother-cell with surrounding 
cells, showing spindle of first reduction-division. Eight chro- 
mosomes were counted in this spindle, four of which are shown 
in the figure. >< 800. 


Figure 81.—Portion of section of megasporangium, showing the 
unusual condition of the four potential megaspores in a row, 
the two upper already being resorbed. Or, judging from the 
very indistinct wall separating the two lower cells and from 
their size, this may be a case where only three megaspores 
were formed, and the lowest has undergone the first division. 
> 800. 





Figure $2.—Portion of section of megasporangium, showing omission 
of formation of wall between the two outer potential megaspores, 
these and the next lower becoming resorbed. >< 800. 


Figure 83.—Portion of section of megasporangium showing young 
embryo-sac with two nuclei; upper potential megaspores and 
part of surrounding tissue becoming resorbed. >< 800. 


Figure 84.--Young embryo-sac with four nuclei; showing also 
remnant of upper potential megaspores. >< 800. 


Figure 85.—Mature embryo-sac, showing synergidae, upper polar 
nucleus, egg, lower polar nucleus, and antipodals. >< 800. 


oD’ 


Figure 86.—The three antipodal cells lying in pouch at base of 


nature embryo-sac. >< 800. 
Figure 87.—Pollen mother-cell, synapsis stage. >< 800. 


Figure 88.—Young pollen-grain in tetrad before the dissolution of 
the tetrad wall. >< 800. 


Figure 89.—Pollen-grain just before formation of generative cell, 
showing enclosed starch grains and beginning of wall thicken- 
Ings. >< S00: 


Figure 90.—Pollen-grain showing spindle preparatory to formation 
of generative cell. >< 800. 


Figure 91.—Cross section through middle of pollen-grain at stage 
shown 1n figure 90. >< 800. 


Figure 92.—-Pollen-grain just after formation of generative cell. 
>< 800. 


Figure 93.— Longitudinal section through almost mature pollen-grain, 
showing tube-nucleus and generative cell just previous to form- 
ation of male cells. >< 400. 


Figure 94.—Longitudinal section of mature pollen-grain showing 
the two male cells still united, and the degenerating tube- 
nucleus. >< 375. 


Figure 95.—Longitudinal section of mature pollen-grain, showing 
characteristic dumbbell shape. >< 175. 

Figure 96, a and b.—Surface and profile views, respectively, of the 
pollen-grain wall thickenings, at mature stage. >< 800. [8 

Figure 97.—Pollen-grains, during the dissolution of the tetrad walls 
and formation of the pollen-grain wall. >< 800. 


Plate XII 








Gr) 

25/2) 

WOOO sy 
YN 


ic 
\ oe YD) C ) LZ 7 


S— 
7 








EA eon) 


ete 
Mi 





Pad 2 xcer 


Figure 98.—Three-celled proembryo of /tuppia_ rostellata, showing 
basal suspensor-cell and two smaller embryo-cells. After Mur- 


beck. >< 446. 


Figure 99.—Nine-celled embryo of Ruppia rostellata, showing basal 
suspensor-cell and eight small embryo-cells. After Wille. >< 340. 


Figure 100.—Thirteen-celled embryo, showing division into three 
transverse segments of four cells each, and a large suspensor- 
cell with nucleus and cytoplasm in the characteristic position. 
>< S00) 


Figure 101.—Longitudinal section through older embryo, the heavy 
lines marking the outlines of the cells shown in figure 100. 
>< 800. 


Figure 102.—Longitudinal section of older embryo, showing the 
outlines of the original segments and the beginning of the 
formation of dermatogen, at least in the terminal segment, at 
left. >< 800. 


Figure 103.—Longitudinal section of embryo with a diameter of 
about 0.05 mm.; showing rather irregular segment lines, and 
globular form of embryo. >< 800. 


Figure 104.—Longitudinal section of embryo of a diameter of about 
0.075 mm.; showing increase in size of all cells, but only a 
shghtly greater number than in figure 103. >< 800. 


Figure 105.—Longitudinal section of embryo measuring about 
0.085 mm. in length; showing commencement of elongation, 
and divisions in the terminal segment, at the left, indicating 
approach of cotyledonary development. >< 300. 


Figure 106.—Longitudinal section of embryo measuring about 
0.135 mm. in length; segment limits obscure; apparently the 
terminal segment is commencing the formation of stem as well 
as cotyledon. Basal portion shows cells which go to form the 
rudimentary primary root. >< 375. 


Place ent 











PA AGE eh: 


Figure 107.—Part of longitudinal section through older embryo, 
showing origins of cotyledon and stem apex. >< 375. 





Figure 108.—Section of embryo from which figure 107 is taken. 
x marks the region figured. >< 75. 


Figure 109.—Longitudinal section of embryo measuring about 
0.35 mm. in length; showing development of cotyledon and 
stem-apex or epicotyl. >< 50. 


Figure 110.—Basal region of embryo shown in previous figure, 
illustrating the group of cells which forms the rudimentary 
primary root. >< 300. 


Figure 111.—Single storage cell from hypocotyl of embryo shown 
in figure 109, showing enclosed starch grains. >< 600. 


Figure 112.—Upper part of longitudinal section of nearly mature 
embryo shown in figure 113; showing stem-apex with growing- 
point and second leaf rudiment, part of cotyledon with section 
of basal sheath, and adventitious root. >< 212. 


Figure 118.—Longitudinal section of nearly mature embryo from 
which figure 112 is drawn; showing hypocotyl, epicotyl, cotyl- 
edon, and adventitious root. >< 35. 


Figure 114.—One of storage-cells from hypocotyl of embryo shown 
Insure Asa O00! 


Plate XIV 





SO 
a 






eS 
SSS 
atese 
Sd 
ys 
S 


oN 









Lh 
Sy 
ES 
EID, 
a 
SS 
ag 


(ena 
las) 
Ro 
we. 
%, 
Oo 
a 














ee 
wae 
=a 


[—=y 
SES 
Ee 


Sy 






eS, 
foo 
=a ore S 





‘Gay 
oH 
SS) 






SRY 
SaTe 
ate 
pe 
Is 


So 
SSK 
SS 
= 
we 

I 


Ls 
SSOP 


OR 
SU ER EEEASS 
SSSR 
Epes 
re 











JIE Ce, OE 


Figure 115.—One of the storage cells from hypocotyl of embryo 
represented in figure 116, showing increased size of all parts. 
>< 800. 


Figure 116.—Nearly mature embryo, older than that shown in figure 
113, and showing the parts represented in the latter. >< 35. 


Figures 117 and 118.—Two views of a cotyledon, dissected from a 
mature embryo, showing position of epicotyl and the overlying 
cotyledonary sheaths. Figure 118, represents the narrow cleft 
between the sheaths. >< 35. 


Figure 119.—Mature embryo dissected from ripe seed. >< 35. 


Figure 120.—Seedling about three days old; showing cotyledon and 
young stem with the first node, adventitious root with root 
hairs, and the thick, storage part of the hypocotyl still within 
the hard shell. > 6. 


Figure 121.—Two views of young seedling; showing long adven- 
titious root with root hairs, cotyledon, epicotyl, &c. The hard 
shell has been purposely removed from the hypocotyl. > 6. 


Plate XV 





Shs 











PLATE, I 


Figure 1.—Pedanostethus riparius. 1a male palpus, outer side. 
{tb male palpus, inner side. 1c epigynum, usual form. 1d epi- 
eynum, unusual variety. 

Figure 2.— Pedanostethus pumilus. Male palpus, outer side. 2a ept- 
eynum. 

Figure 3.—FPedanostethus spiniferus. Male palpus, inner side. 3a male 
palpus, outer side. 3b epigynum. 


Figure 4.—Orchestina saltitans. 4a claws. 4b male palpus. 
Figure 5.—Theridium zelotypum. Male palpus. 
Figure 6.—Theridium kentuckyvense. Dorsal markings. 6a male palpus. 


Figure 7.—Theridium differens. Epigynum. Correction of Pl. 1, 
Hos te andr id. hrans. Conn. Acad... Viol, Vil, 1892: 


Figure 8.—Enoplognatha rugosa. Under side of female. 8a dorsal 
markings of male. 8b head of female. 8c under side of head 
and thorax of male. 


Figure 9.—Enoplognatha (.Steatoda) marmorata. Under side of head 
and thorax to compare with 7wgosa. 9a mandible from above. 


Figure 10.—Arevrodes cancellatus. Side of male. 10a side of female. 
10b abdomen of male. 10c abdomen of female. 10d epigy- 
num. 10e male palpus. 


Plate I 


SSSA 
SAS 


<= 


= 


bi 


| 
N 


iy 
lynutt 


WC 


[It 


il hime 
mil 


G 
| 


7 : 


i 
© \\ 
| WH) 


t | hi li) 
MHI HiIl 
I) NI 


=== 


‘IM lh 


Me y 
al 


AM mii: 
i) 
‘Win ' wt! 





ihe 
= 


2 Wy! , oe? as 


= 








PAG Eel 


Figure 1.—Caseola herbicola. 1a, 1b male palpus. 1c epigynum. 
td sternum and maxille. 


Figure 2.—Caseola alticeps. Head and palpus of male. 2a head of 
male. 2b ‘side of cephalothorax. 2c, 2d male palpus. 2e 
sternum and maxille. 

Figure 3.—Lophocarenum rugosum. Under side of male. 3a cephalo- 
thorax of male. 3b, 8c, 3d, 3e, 3f male palpus. 3g epigynum. 

Figure 4.—HHistagonia palustris. Back of male. 4a side of cephalo- 
thorax of male. 4b, 4c, 4d, 4e male palpus. 4f sternum and 
maxille. 

Figure 5.—Ceratinella formosa. 5a, 5b, 5c male palpus. 5d sternum. 

Figure 6.—Ceratinopsis alternatus. Male palpus from the side. 6a 
male palpus from above. 

Figure 7.—Cornicularia clavicornis. Vibia of male palpus, showing 
form of two processes extending over the tarsus. 

Figure 8.—Grammonota gigas. Side of male showing form of head 
and enlarged metatarsus of first leg. 8a back of male. 8b 
male palpus. 

Figure 9.—Ceratinopsis auriculatus. Back of cephalothorax and palpi 
of male. 9a side of cephalothorax and palpus. 9b male palpus. 





Figure 10.—Evigone brevidentatus. Mandibles and palpiof male. 10a 
cephalothorax of male. 40b sternum and maxille. 10c male 
palpus from above. 


Plate II 


NN Wy YF Qa 


oS 
yy) 











¥ 


.) 
Sai 


' 
om 
o 





Das 
hes we 
ae 
eel 
mee 


> 
7 Py 
The 
oe 
Pa MO 





ree 





Ae 


Figure 1.—Lophocarenum trilobatum. Cephalothorax and palpi of 
male. 1a same, from the side. 


Figure 2.— Lophocarenum longitubum. Epigynum. 2a head of female. 


Figure 3.—Lophocarenum alpinum. 3a head of male. 3b head and 
mandibles of male from the front. 8c immature male. 3d fe- 
male. 3e epigynum. 3f patella and tibia of male palpus. 


Figure 4.—Lophocarenum quadricristatum. Head of female. 4a ept- 
gynum and end of sternum. 


Figure 5.—Lophocarenum abruptum. 5a head of male. 5b male 
palpus from above. 5c male palpus from below. 


Figure 6.—Lophocarenum cuneatum. Head and palpi of male. 6a 
same from the side. 6b epigynum. 6c head of female. 


Figure 7.—Lophocarenum paliidum. Head of male. 7a same from 
the side. 7b patella and tibia of male palpus. 


showing tarsal hook and tibia from above. 


7 
7c male palpus 


Figure 8.—Lophocarenum minutum. Cephalothorax and palpi of male. 
8a epigynum and end of sternum of female. 8b male palpus. 


Plate 10) 


Cis) = “oi 
AMID. ne hs 
1 





4) (Gi 
(Bo 08\ 


Vn af 





a ls 


ye 


. 
M3) ws 








eae 


Figure 1.—7meticus probatus. Male palpus. 1a same from above 
showing processes of tibia. 1b epigynum. 

Figure 2.— 7 meticus truncatus. Male palpus. 2a same showing form 
of tibia. 

Figure 3.—T7meticus debilis. Palpal organ. 38a, 3b male palpus from 


above showing tarsus and hook. 


Figure 4.—Tmeticus corticarius. Male palpus from above. 4a male 
palpus from side. 4b epigynum. 


Figure 5.—Tmeticus terrestris. Epigynum. 
Ficure 6.—T7imeticus bidentatus. Epigynum. 


Figure 7.—Tmeticus brunneus. Epigynum. 7a epigynum from side. 
7b male palpus. 


Figure 8.—T7meticus flaveolus. Epigynum and end of sternum. 8a, 
8b male palpus showing spines at base of tarsus. 
par > al 


Figure 9.—Timeticus longisetosus. Epigynum. 

Figure 10.—Linvphia maculata. Front of head and mandibles of fe- 
male. 40a female from above. 10b same from side. 10c male. 
10d, 10e, 10f male palpus. 10¢ epigynum. 

Figure 14.—Microneta persoluta. Male palpus. 11a epigynum. 

Figure 12.—Microneta latidens. Abdomen of female with markings. 
12a male palpus from above. 12b male palpus from side. 
{2c epigynum. 412d epigynum from side. 

Figure 13.—Lathyphantes calcaratus. Dorsal markings. 13a male 
palpus from side. 

Figure 14.—Microneta denticulata. Male palpus. 

Figure 15.—Mrcroneta serrata. Male palpus from the side. 15a same 
from below. 15b same from above. 


paces 


es 
BE 
—— = 


(UE 


/ 


"Moai S 
= 


dl } 


i 


iil ( 
a | 


W 





ye 
H 


SY Waa) © 
\ 




















—- es ¥ a a Je ed ; ‘eta 
7 7 : ye olin . » De 7 ‘ 7 . p ae ie 
ae oT | Aen ta Bye ; ' oe te Preaian Sera 





a 


ta) 





a 4 = bene iw Ver Boy » 


Fieure 1.—Epetra junipert, male. 1a first and second legs. 
Figure 2.—Epeira thaddeus, male. 2a first and second legs. 
Figure 3.—Epeira corticaria, male. 3a patella and tibia of second leg. 


Ficure 4.— Zilla atrica, female. 4a palpus of male. 4b epigynum 
of Zilla montana. 4c epigynum of Zi//a atrica. 4d epigynum 
of Z. x-notata. 

Fieure 5.—Pairing of Tetragnatha vermiformis. 5a Hold of man- 
dibles of male and female. 


Figure 6.—Pachygnatha tristriata. 6a male palpus. 6b head of 
P. brevis. 6c head of P. tristriata. 6d head of P. autumnals. 


= 
th, 
Gp Wy S 














. Sea oe oA . mz 7 ey Ais s5! : oa Pi i i= 7 ‘ a —-an rs Sa Cine se - 
-, Sell ee aL Se ee eee ai tea ee A nh or er On tg ee Ae Te ee ain ae 
ba rae re SF, 4 P eee [rs aia ny ; rr ~ ‘ > f 





PEA rr Wil 
Figure 1.—Lycosa relucens. 1a male palpus. 1b epigynum. 
Figure 2.—Lycosa ocreata.. Epigynum. 2a male palpus. 
Figure 3.—Lycosa crassipalpis. 3a male palpus. 


Figure 4.—Lycosa (Pardosa) bilineata. Epigynum. 4a first leg of 
male. 4b male palpus. 


Figure 5.—-Pardosa littoralis. 5a male palpus. 5b epigynum. 
Figure 6.—Fardosa diffusa, male. 6a palpal organ. 6b epigynum. 
Figure 7.—Pirata insularis. 

Figure 8.—Pirata sylvestris. 8a male palpus. 8b, 8c epigynum. 


Figure 9.— Pirata arenicola, male. 9a head of female. 9b male 
palpus. 9c epigynum. 


Figure 10.—Pirata maculata, female. 10a under side. 10b epi- 
eynum. 


Figure 11.—Trabea (Aulonia) aurantiaca. 


Plate VI 





ee TET RT 

LW oa Hl NV 0 ZS 

calle Mg) 
Se? \\ Diy 


\ 





Wir ivy 
\ i 


. + 
‘Wy sip 
Ww 


i 
Neat 

NH i 
\ 


i 
I 
i 


j 
i! 
\ 


i Mi) | J: y 
AB |\ 


fitee 


\ 





yet ied 
ie 
aS 








PLE VAel) Banya 

Figure 1.—Lycosa baltimoreana. 1a markings of under side of 
abdomen. 1b epigynum. 

Figure 2.—Lycosa avara. Epigynum. 2a head of female. 

Figure 3.—Lycosa nidifex. First leg of male. 3a first leg of female. 
3b epigynum. 3c male palpus. 3d first leg of male, L. piker, 
3e first lez of female, L. prket. 

Figure 4.—Lycosa punctulata. Male palpus. 4a epigynum. 

Figure 5.—Lycosa scutulata. Male palpus. 

Figure 6.—Dolomedes sexpunctatus, female. 6a male palpus. 
6b young female. 

Figure 7.—Dolomedes vernalis, male. 7a front of head. 6b epi- 
gynum. 7c, 7d male palpus. 


Figure 8.—Dolomedes tdoneus. Epigynum. 


Plate VII 





SRS... Se . 
SSG SSS 
8 Feper Meaorr os ee 
(an) ae | FPL ILI OT LF — 


2 aarp 


~ . BQQ’RA, SESS 
o SSS ES == 


ey ee ee (= <2. woes 
O) 2 PLZ APLIUD. pig 2 BID age mae 


$ ry 


Se es 
= 

















ee ee 
OE OIIT PROS PEG - 2 ae 


(aa) g wabprw 


= SS SSessSss 
aes APS aa 
0) TT eg peg FP EE 


Yo yd 








AM 
\ 

SA NF 
J, 

J 
=— y 

h 

j 











PA BV Eee 


Figure 1.—G:cobius parictalis, female. 1a under side of abdomen. 
1b epigynum. 1c spinnerets and anal tubercle. 1d. calam- 
istrum. te male palpus. 


Figure 2.—.Scotolathys pallidus. Male palpus, upper side. 2a male 
palpus under side. 2b eyes. 2c calamistrum. 2d epigynum. 


Figure 3.—Amaurobius borealis. Epigynum. 3a, 3b, 3c male palpus. 


| 


3d spinnerets. 

Figure 4.—Cryphaca montana, female. 4a spinnerets. 4b epi- 

| gynum. 4c eyes. 4d sternum. 4e, 4f male palpus. 4¢ first 
leg. inner side. 4h first leg, outer side. 41 eyes from in 
front. 

Figure 5.—Hahnia brunnea. 

Figure 6.—Cicurina brevis. Cephalothorax of male. 6a, 6b male 
palpus. 6c epigynum. 

Figure 7.—Cicurina palhda. Cephalothorax of male. 7a, 7b male 
palpus. 7c epigynum. 


Plate VIII 


| 
/ q 
y | 
- 
pS 
/ 
\ 
i ‘\) 
4 i 
} 


4b Ail} 


SS 


LS 5 Q 111] | PAU | 
= OM ML" e WAV | \| } 
u f \ Hil | HT \ le | ly 

f VV |] \} I NEY Tit 











Plain LX 


Figure 1.—Dyrassus Iuemalis. 1a, 1b male palpus. ic eyes. 
{1d epigynum. 


Figure 2.—Drassus bicornis. 2a male palpus. 2b epigynum. 
Figure 3.—Gunaphosa parvula. Epigynum, 3a, 3b male palpus. 


Figure 4.——Pecilochroa montana. Sternum and maxille of male. 
4a tibia of male palpus, inner side. 4b male palpus, outer side. 


Figure 5.—Poecilochroa variegata. Sternum and maxillz of male, to 
compare with montana. 

Figure 6.—Prosthesima rufula. 6, 6a, 6b, 6c variations of epigy- 
num. 6d spinnerets. Ge, 6f male palpus. 6g sternum and 
maxilla. 6h eyes. 

Figure 7.—Apostenus acutus. 7a eyes. 7b, 7c male palpus. 


Figure 8.—Anyphana rubra, male palpus from below. 8a mandible 
of male. 8b, 8c male palpus. 


Plate IX 





‘ es iq ll 


a 
ep Fe : 


atin iy am 
. 6) | i VW ya 


VW 























Jeeves OS 


Figure 1.—Micaria quinquenotata, male and female pairing. 1a male 
palpus. 1b cephalothorax of male. 1c same from side. 1d 
eyes. 18 epigynum. 

Figure 2.—Micaria longipes. 2, 2a cephalothorax of male, to com- 
pare with qguinquenotata. 

Fioure 3.—Micaria gentilis, female. 3a male. 3b, 3c male palpus. 

> Ss ) 
3d epigynum. 

Figure 4.—Micaria laticeps. 4a, 4c male palpus. 4b sternum and 
maxillee. 


Figure 5.—Castaneira lineata, sternum and maxille of female. 5a 
epigynum. 5b cephalocthorax. 


Figure6.—C/lubiona riparia. (ornata). 6, 6a, 6b male palpus. 6c 
epigynum. 


Figure 7.—Clubiona prematura. Male palpus, under side. 7a tibia 
from above, 7b epigynum. 


Figure 8.—C/lubiona canadensis. Male pulpus. 8a epigynum. 
Figure 9.—Clubiona rubra. Epigynum. 


Figure 10.—Clubiona spiralis. Male palpus showing tibial hook. 
10a same from side. 410b palpal organ from below. 10c epi- 
eynum. 


Figure 11.—C/ubiona crassipalpis. Epigynum. 


Figure 12.—-Clubiona tibialis. Epigynum. 


Mp 


Ds a, 
me FA 
LH Za 


Plate x 
4 
Why 
/ L, y 
/ 4 4 
> 4, 
J Vy f - 
Sd fe ZO 
ff y ; . 
Ly Ss | fy 
i 4 / \ ‘} 
TR ‘ 
\ \ ; 
/ x , a ys : 
4 xz \ NH WW? f 
= SW esseaay||!!] XY 
w #14//) 
. YAS fil ae 
Ss » \ / thay “i 
N 4 q Y pi ‘ 
j \ “ Sy * E i 
4] ow OE 
\ Wy Mil Ae oi 
Ti eye 
\ sf 4 
~ j ) ca > = . 
1 // Ii GR : = : 
; i So ; 
f aga 4 x ; 
y / ® | \ ~ {' A xe 
/ . \ : . ; \ 
Mi, \ 1 er Se 
- { Mi yy || \ ( \ 4 
\ ves | } 
) } 
\ J 
= 


Nai! 


S \ Wty, LD 
) A . (il Dy yo 
4 | 


ge) eae, 














Pyle Nol) oXal 


Figure 1.—Phidippus brunneus. Male paipus. 


Figure 2.—Phidippus insignarius, female. 2a male. 2b male from 
in front. 2c epigynum. 2d under side of abdomen. 


Figure 3.—Dendryphantes Jeffersont. 38a male palpus. 3b end of 
> ~ 2 

palpal organ. 8c tibia of male palpus. 8d epigynum. 3c epi- 
gynum of D. militarts. 


Figure 4.--Dendryphantes flavipedes. Tibia of male palpus. 4a palpal 
organ. 


Figure 5.—Phidippus Whitmant. Male palpus. 
Figure 6.—Mevia (Admestina) Wheeler. 


Figure 7.—Ayctia Piket. Under side of female. 7aback of female. 


7b male approaching female. 7c male palpus. 
Figure 8.—Jeius formicarius, male from the side. 8a male palpus. 


Figure 9.—Homalattus cvaneus. 9a side of same. 


Plate XI 


UTIL LTP 
geet Mil) 









































ANS 
SN 





























Ril Awes xa 


Figure 1.—Phidippus Whitman, male. 
Figure 2.—Pellenes roseus, male. 


Figure 3.—FPellenes agilis, female. 3a male in the position taken 
when approaching the female. 8b male approaching female, 
front view. 


Fioure 4.—FPellenes borealis, male. 4a female. 4b male palpus. 
4c epigynum. 

Figure 5.—Fellenes viridipes, male from in front. 5a back of male. 

Figure 6.--Peckhanua scorpionia, male approaching the female. 6a 
female. 

Fi 


eure 7.—Peckhamia picata, male. 7a side of male. 7b first leg 


of male. inner side. 

Figure 8.—Tapinopa bilineata, female. 8a male palpus. 8b head of 
male. 8c front of head of female. 8d mandibles, inner side, 
8e, 8f epigynum. 


Figure 9.—-Chalcoscirtus montanus, female. 9a male. 9b male 
palpus. 


Plate XII 





pM : \ 
Biv con 
Hail yy ft 














nui 


—_——=_=_ 
wh va Pix 
Tay ey 4 
ait 


7: aes 


Ma, 





“cer ee & . s “teh, a ~ 5 ee yee YS Be2e7adas 
+> - . en 4 ‘ 
s . 2 a : > 4 * et 
t é ‘ P 2 2 t 2.9222 ot 
» 
+4 ¢ 2.*2 
Ae 
+2 es 


> 4 4 
2 a 
+. 


ping es 
¢ e 
AAAS Pn 


oe ee 
PPP SE ated 
°F 
sue 

~* 


etatat Bots tete 
Pe es ~ 
** * 


ote 


ars + 


7 
a, Satghe t 
FOE 
ae 


Py 
*. 


ar arora ee 


(ma As 


- + 


+e eee