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ym g PROPERTY OF THl ^

Mdiigm

Jmries^

•SI?

AKTCS SCIENTIA VERITAS

PUBLICATIONS

OF THE

Modern Language Association

*>^ i>~^/ 1 9-1

AMERICA

EDITED BY

JAMES W. BEIGHT

8EGRETABY OF THE ASSOCIATION

(V6L VUl) NEW SERIES, VOL. I

BALTIMORE

Published by the Association Printed bt John Murpht & Ck)MFANY

1893

5^^ 6"

L s A . <-

TO

PROFESSOR A. MARSHALL ELLIOTT,

THE VOUNDXR OF

THE MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION OF AMEBICA

AND FOB NINE YXAB8 ITS ZEALOUS T.»An«p.

A2n> FAITHFUL SECBSTABT, THIS

VOLUME IS BBBFECTFULLT

DEDICATED

m ACCORDANCE WITH A BESOLUTION UNAXOMOUBLT ADOPTED BT THE AS80CIATI0H.

CONTENTS.

Paob. I. — Die Beziehiing der Satire Rabelais* za ErasmuB' Enoomvum

Moriae and OoUoquM, By Hermann Sohoxnfeld, - - 1

IL— The Legend of the Holy Grail.

By GsoROE McLean Harper, 77

m. — The Historical Development of the PosseBsiye Pronouns in

Italian. By Louis £mil Menqer, 141

IV. — The Order of Words in Anglo-Saxon Prose.

By Charjjds Axphonso Smith, 210

V. — ^The Absolute Participle in Middle and Modem English.

By Charles Hunter Boss, 245

VI. — On the Soaroe of the Italian and English Idioms Meaning 'To Take Time by the Forelock,' with special reference to Bojardo's Orlando InnamorcUOy Book II, Oantoe VII-IX. By John E. Matzke, 808

VII. — Lessing's Religions Development with special reference to

his Nathan the Wise. By Stlvester Primer, - - 885

Vm. — ^An Apocryphal Letter of St Augustine to Cyril and a life of St. Jerome, Translated into Danish. Codex Regius 1586, 4to^ Gl. Kong. Saml., Copenhagen. Edited with an Intro- duction, and a Glossary of the Proper Names and the Obsolete Words and Forms. By Daniel K'TT^JTAir Dodge, 881

IX — Notes on the Language of J. G. Schottel.

By H. C. G. yon Jaqemann, ...... 408

X. — ^A Grouping of Figures of Speech, based upon the Principle

of their Eflfectiveness. By Herbert Eveleth Greene, 482

V

VI CONTENTS.

•

Paob. Proceedings of the Tenth Annual Meeting of the Modem Language Association of America, held at Washington, D. G^ December 28, 29, 80, 1892.

An Address of Welcome. By President Jambs G. Welunq, - iii

Beport of the Secretary, iy

Beport of the Treasurer, ........ iy

1. Did King Alfred transUte the .Sutoria fbefesio^

By J. W. Pearck, vi

Discussion : by Francis A. March, .... ix

by A. Marshall Elliott, ... x

2. The Absolute Participle in Middle and Modem English.

By C. H. Boss, ---...--- x

Discussion : by J. M. Garkstt, x

by Francis A. March, .... xi

8. The Sources of Udall's Boisier Doiater. By George Hemfl, xiii

4. The Chrdmu'B Daughter; or, the Pidures.

By John Phelps Fruit, xiii

Discussion : by H. E. Greene, ..... xy

6. The Legend of the Holy Grail. By George M. Harper, - xyii

Discussion : by F. M. Warren, ..... xyii

by J. E. Matzke^ xyiii

6. BeooUections of Language Teaching. By Francis A. March, xix

7. A Gbouping of Figures of Speech, based upon the Principle of

their Effectiyeness. By ELerbert K Greene, . - - xxii

Discussion : by John Phelps Fruit, .... xxii

8. Guernsey : its People and Dialect. By E. S. Lewis, - - xxiy

Discussion : by A. Marshall E^jjott, - . - • xxiy

9. The Literary Burlesque Ballad of Germany in the Eighteenth

Century. By C. von Klenze, xxy

Discussion : by H. G. G. von Jagemann, - ^ - - xxxi

by H. C. G. Brani>t, xxxii

by J. E. Matzke, xxxii

Election of Officers, xxxiii

10. MS. 24310 and other M8S. in the Paris National Library which

contain French Metrical Versions of the Fables of Walter of

England. By T. Logie^ • - xxxiii

Discussion : by A. Marshall Elliott, - - - - -ryTiii

• •

OONTBNTB. VU

Paos.

11. EnsmuB' Works, espedallj the 'Enoomivm Moriae and the

(hUoquia, as Sources of Rabelais' political, religious and literary Satire. By Hebmann Sohonfklp, ... xzxy Discussion : by J. A. Fontaine, xxxv

Reports of Committees, xxxvii

12. Tlie Tales of Uncle Bemm, traced to the Old World.

By A. Gerbeb, -- xxxix

Discussion : by F. M. Wabben, zzxiz

by S. Gakneb, xl

by O. B. Super, xli

by J, B. Henneman, .... zlii

by S. Gabneb, xliii

13. Two Pioneers in the Historical Study of English,— Thomas

Jefferson and Louis F. Elipstein: A Contribution to the History of the Study of English in America. ^. By J. B. Henneman, xliii

Report of the Auditing Committee, xlix

Report of the Secretary of the Phonetic Section, - - - - xlix

14. Lessing's Religious Development with special reference to his

Nathan the Wise. By Sylvesteb Pbimeb, . . ' . 1

Remarks upon the work of the Pedagogical Section.

By E. H. Maoux, li

16. The Preparation of Modem Language Teachers for American

Institutions. By E. H. Babbitt, lii

A Resolution on the subject of Spelling Reform, .... Ixi

16. A Study of the Middle English Poem, The Pystal of Susan; its

MSS., Dialect, Authorship and Style: Introductory to a collated Text and Glossary. By T. P. Habbison, - - 1x1

17. Irregular Forms of the Possessive Pronouns in Italian.

By L. EMiii Mengeb, - - > bdi

Discussion : by J. E. Matzks, ..... izii

18. J. G. SchotteFs Influence on the Development of the Modem

German Sehriftaprache, By H. C. G. von Jaqemann, - Ixiii

EXTRA SESSION.

1. The Language of the Sciences and a Universal Language.

By Fbancis A. Mabch, .----.- ixiy

2. The Psychological Basb of Phonetic Law and Analogy.

By GuBTAP K Kabsten, Ixiy

V

• ••

VIU CONTENTS.

Paob. 8. On the Soaroe of the Italian and English Idioms meaning ' To Take Time by the Forelock/ with special reference to Bo- jardo's Orlando Innamorato, Bk. ii, Cantos vii-iz.

By John R Matzke, Ixy

Discussion : by Karl Pietsch, liv

by James W. Bright, - - - - ixv

Election and List of Honorary Members, ..... Ixvi

List of Officers, Ixviii

List of Members, Ixix

List of Subscribing Libraries, ....... Ixxviii

Boll of Members Deceased, Ixxix

The Constitution of the Association, ...... Ixxx

PUBLICATIONS

OF THE

MODERN LANGUEE ASSOCIATION OF AMERICA,

1898.

(Vol. VIII, 1.) New Series, Vol. 1, 1.

I.— DIE BEZIEHUNG DER SATIRE RABELAIS' ZU ERASMUS' ENCX)MIUM MORIAE UND COLLOQUIA.

Die Beziehung Rabelais' zu Erasmus von Rotterdam drangt sich beim Studium der beiderseitigen, zumal satiriscben Schriften machtig von selber auf and ist infolge dessen auch langst erkannt worden. Keiner hat diese Beziehung starker betont als Birch-Hirschfeld.* Aber eine eingehende Abband- lung, eigens zu dem Zweeke verfesst zu erweisen, warum Rabelais fast in alien Stucken seiner Satire mit dem wahl- verwandten Erasmus ubereinstimmt, steht meines Wissens noch aus.

Bedenkt man jedoch die ungebeure Bedeutung, den unend- lich breiten Raum, den beide Manner in der Weltliteratur einnehmen, dann lohnt es sich wohl der Muhe, den Zu- sammenhang und die Beziehung zwischen den Werken der beiden unstreitig genialsten Satiriker und Humanisten des XVI Jahrhunderts ins Auge zu fassen. Wenn man ferner

> Oesch, der Franao$, Lit, I, 215-216, 217— (Erasmus Schriften bei Rabelus gefunden).

1

2 H. SCHOENFELD.

den breiten Strom der franzosischen Literatiir ^ betraclitet, der sich gerade im XVI Jahrhundert nach Deutschland ergoss, so ist es trostlich zii wissen, dass der Gegenstrom, der von den deutschen Humanisten und Reformatoren aiis nach Frankreich stromte, vielleicht nocli mehr kulturbestimmend gewasen, " Die Schilderung des Einflusses, welchen Erasmus auf die strebenden und reifen Manner Frank re ichs und Englands iibte, gehort der Culturgesehichte der genannten Lander an. Nur so viel ist kurz zu constatiren, dass die Umwandlung der Universitiit Paris aus einer Hoehburg des Scholasticism us in eine Pflanzstatte humanistischer Wissenschaft teilweise sein Werk ist, und dass England im Wesentlichen ihm die Ver- trautheit mit der klassischen Literatur zu verdanken hat."* Freilich ist es hierbei notig gewesen, noch den Beweis zu fuhren, dass Erasmus thatsachlich deutsch war nach Eigenart, Gresinnung und Bildung, ein Beweis, der L. Geiger trefflich gelungen ist.^ So viel steht fest, dass Reuchlin (" Egregius ille trilinguis eruditionis Phoenix." Apotheosis Oapnionis,) und Erasmus nach des urdeutschen Hutteii Wort als "die beiden Augen Den tsch lands " galten. Jedenfalls bedeutet Erasmus, der mit Spott und Sophistik das verderbte Kirchen- tum seiner Zeit untergriibt, schopferisch ist in der Theorie der Padagogik, durch seine Leistungen auf dem Gcbiete eines

^Caesar Fleischlen's Chaphisehe Liieratur-Tafel : Die deutsche Lit. u. der Einfluss fremder Literaturen auf ihren Verlauf in graphischer Darstellung. Stuttgart, 1890.

' Ludwig Geiger, Renaiaaance und HttmanimnuSf p. 528.

• Ren. u. Hum.y p. 527 : " Zehn Jahre lang gehorte er, der Niederlander, Frankreich und England, hier Paris, dort London u. Oxford, an. Trotzdem ist er weder Englander noch Franzose geworden. . . Wahrend aber jene beiden Nationen bei aller Verehrung ihn nicht als den ihrigen betrachteteni fingendie Deutschen schon damals an, ihn als ihren Landsmann anzusehen. . . . So spat er sich auch entschloss, von nostra Germania zu reden, so hatten die Deutschen doch Recht, ihn als den ihrigen zu bezeichnen. Nur in Deutsch- land erscheint er fast in gleichem Maasse als Oeber und Empfdnger (cf. Modem Language ^otea, Febr., March, June, 1892: meine Aufstitze : ** Brant and Erasmus''), in alien anderen Liindern ist er entweder das Eine oder das Andere. . J*

RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 3

klassischen Latein und Griechisch, dessen Aussprache er durch eine scharfsinnige Schrift : De recta Latini Graecique sermonis pronunciationey fixirt, die ausschliesslich auf seine Au tori tat bin herrscbend wurde, fur Deutscbland den Hohepunkt dee Humanismus unter den human istischen Grossen, die das Bil- duugsmaterial, welcbesdas Altertum hinterlassen hatte, metbo- disch dem Inhalte nach zu bewaltigen suchten, um sich nicht in dem blanken Formenkram der Italiener zu verlieren. Er darf als der Vollender dessen gelten, was ein Ennea Silvio Pic- oolomini, der Apostel des Humanismus unter den Deutscben, die von Conrad Celtes gestiftete rheiniscbe Gesellscbaft be- gannen, was auf den Universitaten Heidelberg und Tubingen, was unter den seebs Mannern von der Schule zu Deventer, unter denen der beruhmteste Rudolf Agricola, Bliiten zu treiben anfing. Von den Gelehrten aller vom Humanismus beruhrten Lander bis hinauf nacb Polen bewundert, von den Groesen der Erde gesucht, die hdchste wissenscbaftliche Au- toritat seiner Zeit war die Wirkung seiner unzabligen Schriften eine ungeheure fur Deutscbland.

Uns aber soli bier bauptsiiehlich seine tiefeinschneidende Wirkung auf die franzosiscbe Renaissance bescbaftigen. Die scbolastischen Niclitigkeiten jener Zeit, die Frevel und Siin- den der Fiirsten und Grossen, die Versunkenheit der Geist- lichkeit, die Sopbisterei der luristen, die "in einem Atenizuge eine grosse Anzahl aus der Lufl gegriffener Gesetze zusam- raendrecbseln," kurz die Unsitten aller Stande seines Zeital- ters finden keinen rucksichtsloseren Aufdecker als Erasmus, und sein G^ist, seine Kritik und Satire durchdringt intensiv verstarkt den genialsten, ihm geistesverwandten Franzosen des XVI Jabrhunderts — seinen unmittelbaren Scbiiler und Gresinnungsgenossen, Fran9ois Rabelais mit seiner encyclo- padiscben klassiscben Bildung, den gewaltigsten Satiriker Frankreicbs: "Rabelais, le plus grand des romanciers et des pontes du temps, le bouffon (?) et sublime Rabelais." ^

1 Sainte-Beave, ToMeau de la Poisie Franfaise au XVI* tikU, p. 259.

4 H. 8CHOENFELD.

Hatte sich Erasmus in seiner Satire par excellence^ dem Encomium Moriae, insbesondere an Brant's NarrenBchiff- — freilich original als "ein Mann fur sich" — ^angeschlossen/ so schloss sich Rabelais ebenso original und selbststandig an seinen Meister Erasmus an.' Und in Erasmus haben wir in letzter Instanz die Quelle des breiten, weitverzweigten Stromes zu suchen, der sich aus Rabelais nach alien Rich- tungen der Weltliteratur ergoss.

Aus Rabelais schopfte Fischart nicht nur seinen GarganiuQy eines der wertvollsten Satirenwerke unserer Literatur, weit mehr als eine blosse Ubersetzung (Scherer, pp. 291, 371, 672), sondern auch den Geist der Freiheit fiir seine anderen freige- sinnten und patriotischen Schriften.

Rabelais' Geist wirkte fort in unserem humoristischen Roman bei Hippel und Jean Paul.' Selbst der einzige Goethe hat Rabelais nachzuahmen versucht, ist aber in diesem Versuche noch nicht recht gewurdigt worden.

Jedenfalls brachte er dem Rabelais ein gutes Verstandnis entgegen, wie aus seinem politisch-satirischen Roraanfragment Reiae der Sohne Megaprazons hervorgeht, das sich an den schon friih gelesenen Pantagruel von Rabelais anlehnte/

'Scherer, Oeaeh, der Deutsehen LiLy p. 273. Mod, Lang, Notesj Febr. Marz, 1892: "Brant u. Erasmus."

' Freilich hat wohl auch Rab. Brant's NS. unmittelbar benutzt, cf. Louis Spach, BuUeiin de la SoeiiU liUtraire de Strasabourg, 1862, I, 38. Supfle, Oeaeh. de$ deutachen Cultureinfluaaea auf Frankreiehy I, 31 £f. In Brant's cap. 108 {^daa achluraffenBchiff'} scheint mir die Narrenfahrt nach Montflaacun (cf. Goedeke's Note 7) ["all port dnrchsuchen wir und gstad''] sicher dem Babelais bei der Fahrt nach der heiligen Flasche Quelle gewesen zu sein ; vide Rab. V, 15 ff. (wenn echt).

'Scherer, p. 672: "Die ganze Art erinnert an Rabelais und noch mehr an Fischart"

^ Es sei hier gestattet, teils an der Hand H. Diintzer's (Goethe's Werke, Band XIV, in DeiiUeKe Nat. Lit, Einl. zu Reise der Sohne Meg.) teils im Widerspruch gegen ihn zu einer Wiirdigung des goethischen Fragmentes in seinem Verhaltnis zu Rabelais kurz abzuschweifen. Goethe schreibt selbst dariiber : " Ich hatte seit der Revolution, um mich von dem wilden Wesen einigermaassen zu zerstrenen, ein wunderbares Werk begonnen, eine Reise von sieben [sechs] Brudem verschiedener Art, jeder nach seiner

RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 5

Auch in England hat das geniale Werk Rabelais' einen weiten Widerball gefunden und tief nachgewirkt. Jonathan Swift* erneuert in der satirischen Erzahlung die Weise des

Weise dem Bunde dienend; dorchaus abenteuerlich und marchenhaft, ver- yBorren^ Aumckt und AbdcfU verhergend [war das Goethe's Meinung iiber Rabelais' Werk?], ein Gleichnis unseres eigenen Zostandes."

Plan and Ausfuhrung des Fragment-Romans stellt sich wie folgt : I. Die Namen zweier Sohne, Epistemon und Panurg, sind aus Rabelais entlehnt.

TI. Der Umschwung in den Prosperitatsverhaltnissen der von ihrem Ahnherm Pantagruel entdeckten Inseln Papimanie und Papefigue ist dnrchaus beabsichtigt ; seit Rab. ist der Gegenschlag erfolgt, und die Insel der Papimanen ist verfallen und verodet, wie einst bei Rab. die ungluckliche Insel der Papifiguen, ein characteristischer Beleg fiir Goethe's historische Sinnesart.

III. Eine ofienbare Beziehung auf die franzosische Revolution tritt in der gewaltsamen Spreng^ng der Insel der Monarchomanen durch vulka- nische Gewalten zu Tage. Die drei zersprengten Telle sind unverkennbar nicht — wie Diintzer will — das Konigtum, der Adel und das Volk, sondem der revolutionare " tiers ^tat," der mit Feuer und Schwert Konigtum und Adel einerseits, andererseits den Clerus sprengt Hier wird in rabeliUischer Art eine sociale Frage abgehandelt, die zu Rabelais' Zeiten noch nicht existirte. [*' Ihr habt von der grossen Insel der Monarchomanen gehort?" " Wir haben nichts davon gehort," sagte Epistemon, '^ es wundert mich um so mehr, als einer unserer Ahnherren in diesen Meeren auf Entdeckungen ausging."]

IV. Die Erzahlung des Papimanen von der Insel der Monarchomanen ist vortrefflich: " Die Residenz (Paris), einWunder der Welt, war auf dem Vorgebirge angelegt, und alle Kiinste batten sich vereinigt, dieses Gebaude zu verherrlichen. . . . Hier thronte der Konig [Louis XYI] in seiner Herrlichkeit, und Niemand schien ihm auf der ganzen Erde gleich zu sein." Dann kam die vulkanische Sprengung. Leider gestattet das Frag- ment keinen Einblick in die Ereignisse der von Pantagruel gleich falls entdeckten Laterneninsel und bei dem Orakel der heiligen Flasche, die in dem Briefe Megaprazon's erwahnt sind.

Dieser Brief des Megaprazon an seine Sohne ist durchaus nach dem Briefe des alten Gargantua an seinen Sohn Pantagruel {Oeuvresy II, VIII) model- lirt. Wie hier Rab. (Garg.) mit tiefem Ernst und voUendeter Weisheit die geistigen Krafte seines Sohnes auf das Hochste entwickeln will, so sucht Megaprazon bei Goethe alle Fahigkeiten, welche die Natur in die Seele jedes einzelnen seiner Sohne gelegt hat, zu erwecken und anzuregen.

^Scherer, p. 371. — Schon in seinem Mdrehen txm der Tonne {Tke Tale of a Tubf 1704), einem beissenden Pasquill gegen Papismus, Luthertum

b H. SCHOENFELD.

Rabelais. Tristram Shandy, Lawrence Sterne's geistvoUer Roman von feinstem Humor, den aber Birch-Hirscbfeld wegen der beabsichtigten " Liisternheiten und Zweideutigkeiten/' die Rabelais fernli^en/ dem Werke des letzteren mit Recht unter- ordnet, wiirde ohne die anr^ende franzosische Quelle nicht existiren. Southey, einer der keuschesten englischen Diehter, bezieht sich nicht uur bestandig auf Rabelais, sondern lasst sich in The Doctor iiber einige seiner Episoden des Breiteren aus, wahrend Coleridge, die hochste Autoritat auf dem Gebiet der Kritik, sich mit Bezug auf Rabelais riihmt, " that he could write a treatise which would make the Church stare and the conventicle groan and yet it would be truth and nothing but the truth."

In der romanischen Literatur hat Italien allein dem grossen Rabelais die Gefolgschaft versagt : die kirchentreuen Schrift- steller Italiens habendie(angeblichen)menschlichen Schwachen Rabelais' zu Un recht in den schwarzesten Farben geraalt. Erst G. Martinozzi * sucht die Berechtigung dieser Feindseligkeiten gegen Rabelais in Italien zu widerlegen. Er sieht in dem Werke nur ein Produkt heiterer I^aune und echt dichterischer Phan- tasie. Der Grundgedanke sei die Parodie der Romantik des Mittelalters, ihre Tendenz sei weder politisch, noch kirchen- feindlich, noch gar padagogisch, sondern die treue, naturwahre, an die Diagnose des Arztes erinnernde Schilderung der Zeit und der Menschen. Dieser zahme Standpunkt Martinozzi's scheint mir absolut einseitig, wenn nicht ganz falsch.

und CalyiniBinus, werden die Streitigkeiten der Kirche in einer Weise veranschaulicht, die Papimaniens und Papifiguiens nicht unwurdig tdnd. Besonders aber sein Werk Travels of Lemud OuUiver (1726) enthait eine erasmisch-rabelasische Satire auf menachliche Torheit und Schwache mit zahlreichen Schlaglichtem auf die politifichen, religiosen und socialen Zu- stande seiner Zeit und seines Landes.

* Burgaud-Eath^ry, Oeutrres, III, XXXIV, Anm. 2 : Hal Swift die Ge- schichte von der Nonnenbeichte, die die Nonnen einander ablegen wollen, nicht dem Priester, aus Bab.? cf. Birch-H., Oeseh. der Franzoa LU., p. 262.

^ 11 PantagrueU di Francesco Rabelais^ CUicL di OastellOj Lapi 1885. Bespr. yon Mahrenholtz, Neu/rantoa. ZeiUchr,^ 1886, II, 3-5.

RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 7

Dagegen verdankt ihm Spanien einen grossen Teil der Blute seiner Literatur. Cervantes und Quevedo stehen auf Rabelais' Schultern. Don Quixote in Spanien ist das letzte Echo und die Parodie der Romantik der Ritterromane, ein Echo^ das aus Rabelais widerhallt und vielleicht aus Erasmus,^ der wohl jene Art Dichter im Sinne hat, wenn er sagt : "... poetae . . ., quorum omne studium non alio pertinet, quam ad demulcendas stultorum aures, idque meris nugamentis^ ac ridiculis fabulis." Sainte-Beuve * eitirt einen Ausspruch des Bernardin de St.- Pierre : " Cen etait fait du bonheur des peuples et m^me de la religion, lorsque deux hommes de lettres, Rabelais et Michel Cervantes, s'^levdrent, I'un en France et Fautre en Espagne, et ebranlSrent a la fois le pouvoir monacal et celui de la cheva- lerie. Pour renverser ces deux colosses, ils n'employdrent d'autres armes que le ridicule, ce contraste naturel de la terreur humaine. Semblables aux enfants, les peuples rirent et se rassur^rent." " Das sei zwar ein wenig zu viel gesagt," meint Sainte-Beuve, " il y a pourtant du vrai dans cette mani^re d'en- visager Rabelais, le franc rieur, au sortir des terreurs du moyen ^e et du labyrinthe de la scolastique, comme ayant console et rassure le genre humain." Nur darf man dabei nicht ver- gessen, dass dieser Geist des Rabelais in gleicher Weise eras- mischer Geist ist und von diesem abstammt.

In seiner eigenen Heimat ist naturgemass der Einfluss des genialen Franzosen am intensivsten gewesen. Zwar in der Beurteilung seiner Zeit scbwankt eben sein Bild "von der Parteien Hass und Gunst verwirrt.'* *

Aber uber seinen Einfluss auf die nach folgenden Genera- tionen Frankreichs scheint mir Jacob Bibliophile's (Paul Lacroix) Schlussurteil in seiner Notice HistoHque sur Rabe- lais nicht ubertrieben : " Rabelais, le plus grand genie de

^ Enc. Moriae. * OatLseriea du Lundt,

'John Colin Dunlop, History of Prose Fiction^ p. 307 : "Few writers have been more reviled and extolled than Bab." . . . cf . Mahrenholtz, Neuframos, Zeitschr.j 18S6, II, 3-5 : Verschiedene Beurteilung des Rab. in verschiedenen Landem und Zeiten.

8 H. SCHO£NF£LD.

son ^poque, n'a pas fait seiilement ce roman si comique^ si profond, si vaste, si sublime, qui survivra m^me Sl la langue franjaise, il a fait de plus Molifere/ La Fontaine/ Le Sage,* et Paul-Louis Courier.

Diese kurze, bei einem iluchtigen Blick auf das Feld der nachfolgenden Literaturgeschiehte sich von selbst ergebende Ahrenlese der aus rabelasischem Geiste entsprossenen Saat legt nicht nur die Berechtigung, soudern sogar die Verpflich- tung nahe, das Quellenstudium Rabelais' eingehender zu be- bandeln und nioglichst zu erweisen, in wie weil rabelasischer Greist erasmischer Geist ist, d. h. aus diesem geilossen oder durch die Geistesanlage beider Manner letzterera unbewusst ver- wandt ist.

Zwar dass der nucleus von Rabelais' Werk in den alt celtischen popularen Traditionen zu suchen ist/ steht wohl nunmehr fest, obwohl es befremdlicherweise erst am Anfang dieses Jahrhunderts erkannt worden ist. Eloi Johanneau ausserte die Meinung, Gargantua ware der "Hercule Panto- phage '' der Gallier. Ira Jahre 1829 sagte Philar^te Chasles : " II y avait en Touraine un Grargantua obscur et chim6rique qui avait une grossi^re I6gende ; Rabelais emprunta au peuple

* 8ainte-B., Tabl. llistorique et Critique de la Pohie Fran^aiae au XVI* nlde p. 269 : ** Certaines pages de son livre font d<?ji penser il Molic^re, i La Fon- taine ; comme eux, il est profonddment humain et vrai ; dans son langage aussi bien que dans sa pens^e ; il sait s' Clever du ton le plus familier ^ I'^lo- quence la plus haute."

Moli^re hat wiederholt Stofl* und Geist aus Rab. entlehnt, z. B., Ill, XXXIV: Die Geschichte von der stummen Frau, cf. Rath^ry*s Anm. 3 (p. 678) ; III, XXXV u. XXXVI, Rath^ry's Anm. 1 ; III, XLI, Rath^ry's Anm. 4 (p. 712); III, LII, Rath^ry's Anm. 10 (Ende, p. 750).

* Bei Le Sage scheint die-ganze Form und Fassung dea Cri7 Elan de San- tUlane auf Rab. hinzuweisen. Schon am Eingang erinnert die Geschichte der zwei Studenten, von dencn der eine die Seele des Licentiaten Garcia unter dem Grabstein sucht, an die Biichse mit der „ celeste et impreciable drogue ; " so auch die Durchhechelung aller Stiinde. " Lea Panurge et les Gil Blaa ne sont pas rares." '* II faut chercher I'origine du genre dans la nature humaine ellem^me." Paul Albert, La Pro»e: Le Bmnan^ p. 437.

•Paul S^billot, Gargantua dans lea Traditions Populaires, Paris 1883. (Les Littbralurea Populairesj Tome XII).

BABEIiAIS UND EBASMUS. 9

ce h^ros fabuleux." Auch Jacob Grimm {Deutsche Mytholo- gie^ 2 Ausg.) sah dariu eine Tradition^ die in die celtische Zeit zurnckreicbte. Bourquelot und Henri Gaidoz ^ sind derselben Meinung. Nur Gaston Paris,' allerdings ein starker Gewahrs- mann, begt Zweifel fiber die Schlusse Gaidoz. Aber die von Burgaud et Rath6ry (JEinl.j p. 29) vorgebrachten Beweise sind uberzeugend genug, um uns S^billot's {Ehxl, 27) Schlussur- teil beizustimmen zu lassen : '^ Rabelais, fort au oourant des croyanoes et des traditions de son temps, a pu en avoir con- naissance et, transformant au gr^ de son g6nie le r^it confus du peuple, il en a fait I'oeuvre immortelle que Ton connait." Das Studium der unzahligen Quellen aus der Klassik' und der franzosischen Literaturvergangenheit, die Rabelais' unend- lich reicher Bildung zu Gebote standen, wiirde das Studium der Geschichte seiner Bildung bedeuten. Der umfassenden und zusammenfassenden Darlegung und dem statistischen Nachweis bei Birch-Hirschfeld ist schwerlich etwas Neues beizuingen. Die Spiele der Innung Bazoche von satirisehem Gebalt und allegorischer Form (Moralitaten), die "soci6t6 des enfants sans souci"* mit ihrer sottie,* die lustige Predigt,* die Farce, die ihren Hohepunkt schon im XV Jahrhundert mit Pathdin erreicht hat, sind von Birch-Hirschf. klar als Quellen des Rabelais dargethan/

^ Revue arctUologique, Sept., 1868, pp. 172-191.

*Reoue critique, 1868, pp. 326 ff.

» Birch-Hirschfeld, I, 274-275. Burgaud et Rath^ry, Not. Biogr., p. 3. Rahelab selbst lasst sich im ProL zum II. Buche iiber das franzos. Litera- turmaterial aus. P. Albert, La Prose, p. 437 : " Le Roman a tenu, on ne pent le m^connattre, une place considerable. Cest un genre aussi riche en chef-d'oeuvre que pas un. . . . La nature humaine y est repr^nt^e sous une foule d'aspects divers et par des types qu41 n'est pas permis d'ignorer.

* Birch-H. I, 44-46. '^ p. 46. « p. 47.

^ Berufungen und Ankliinge an Pathdin habe ich bei genauerer Priifnng des rabelasischen Werkes folgende gefunden (19 Stellen, incl. V. Buch 21) :

Oeuvrea :

I, 1: Betoumons k nos moutons; I, 11; III, 34 (Ende) ; Bath^ry sagt zu III, 34, Anm. 4 (p. 678) : "Rab. n'a peut-6tre pas moins contribu^ que

10 H. SCHOENPELD.

In wie weit Rabelais deutsche Quellen benutzt hat, hat Th. Supfle^ zu erforschen versucht. Es ist dies wahrscheinlich hinsichtlich des Eulenspi^el^ imd steht fest hinsichtlichHeinr. Bebels,* Professors in Tubingen, eines schwabischen Bauern- sohnes, der in seinem Triumph der Venus eine Satire auf alle Stande imter dem Gesichtspunkte der Liebe, wie sie in den

I'auteur de TArovat Pathelin il faire passer cette phrase en proverbe." *'DaM 'revenons il nos moutons' ist nach meiner Ausicht in Deutschland erst sprichwortlich geworden, nachdem es Kotzebue in den deutschen Kleinstadtem verwertet hatte." A. von Weilen bei Bespr. von "Holstein, Re>ichlin8 Komikiien** in Zeiischr. fur DetUsches AU. XXXV, 50.

h ^ (gegen Ende) : bien drapp^ et de bonne laine. (Rath^ry, Anni. 1 (Allusion).

I, 20: ... . comme feit Pat(h)elin son drap.

II, 9 : lauguaige patelinois.

II, 12: ''Six blancs; j'entends, par mon sernient, de laine." Anm. bei Rath.

II, 17 : "six solz et maille Que ne vivent oncq pere ny mere." (Vers du Pathelin).

II, 30 : " Je veis Pathelin, thesorier de Rhadanianthe.'*

III, 4: "le noble Pat(h)elin .... rien plus ne dist, sinon:

£t si prestoit

Ses denr^ k qui en vouloit."

Ill, 22: O quel patelineux (von Raminogrobis gesagt).

Ill, 30: Rath^ry, p. 659, Anm. 5. Jacob Bibliophile, Edition 1869, p. 266, Anm. 4.

Ill, 84 : *' Je ne ris onques tant que je fis iV ce Patelinage.'' Rath., p. 678, Anm. 3.

III, 41 : (Rath., p. 712, Anm. 3: Onq lard en pois n'escheut si bien. Pathelin).

IV, Nouveau Prol. : " Et mon urine Vous dit elle point que je meure?" (Pathelin'sWorte).

Nouv. Prol. : " en ay je," Jacob p. 332 u. Anm. 7, of. V, 17. (Jacob p. 487, Anm. 16).

I V, 6 : bes, bes, bes. . . ., wie in der Farce Pathelin.

IV, 25 : vide Rath., Anm. 4 : *' II y aura beu et guall^ Chez moi, ains que vous en aliez."

V, 27 (unecht? Birch-H. I, 281, u. Anm. 10 zu. pag 257) : "car je n*en- tendois leur patelin" (in demselben Sinne wie II, 9).

^Oe»ch. de$ deutschen Oulturein Jlusaes axrf Fmnkreiehj Gotha, 1886. •Siipfle, I, 37, Anm. 91. ' /^ , I, 37, Anm. 90.

RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 11

Fastnachtspielen ublicb war, lieferte.^ Es ist iiberhaupt an- znnehmen, dass dem grossen Linguisten Rabelais nicbt leicht etwas WesenUiches aus der deutschen Literatur eutgangen sein mag, denn er kannte die deutsche Sprache genau,* im Gegeii- satz zu Erasmus, dem die Sprache der Englander und Franzo- sen fast ebenso verschlossen blieb, wie die deutsche.* Rabelais' Beeinflussung durch Luther in erzieherischer Hiusicht versucht Otto Haupt* zu erweisen. Sicherlich hat Rathery nicht zu viel gesagt, wenn er behauptet : ^ '^ Rabelais, lui aussi, prenait son bien oil il le trouvait, et il embellissait son module."

An encyclopadischer Fulle von verwertetem Quellenmaterial hat es also Rabelais gewiss nicht gefehlt. Aber durch den Reich- turn der mannichfachen Quellen, die von Rabelais original auf- gefasst und verwertet wurden, zieht sich wie ein roter Faden, auf Schritt und Tritt mehr oder minder buchstablich oder selbst- standig sich in dem Genius Rabelais' widerspiegelnd, erasmischer Geist. Er ist von diesem erasmischen Geiste fbrmlich durch- trankt und hat sich augenscheinlich mit den Schriften de» Eras- mus so vertraut gemacht, dass dessen Ideen oder Anklange an dieselben, sowie unzahlige erasmische Adagia uberall hervor- brechen und bei der Behandlung jeden Gebietes menschlicher Verrichtungen und Torheiten das rabelasische Werk von Seite zu Seite fiillen, freilich inimer wieder in vereigentiimlichter selbststandiger Weise. Ja, eine genaue Lecture des erasmischen Satirenwerkes Encomium Moriae und der ebenso erzieherischen, wie kritisch-satirischen OoUoquia erweisen, das fast alle Zustaude und Personen, denen Rabelais seine Satire zuwendet, im Keime oder auch in ausfuhrlicher Behandlung bei Erasmus vorhanden sind, wie eine Vergleichung der beiderseitigen Werke ergeben

^ Scherer, Oesch, der deut, lAl., p. 272.

•Vide Supfle, I, 67, OS (Anm. 158), 77.

' Geiger, Ben. u. R^., p. 527 ; dagegen streitet A. Richter {Erasmusstudicn, Leipz. DisB.) in einem Anhang gegen die Behauptung, dass sich Er. gegen die Volkssprache der Lander, wo er sich aufhielt, teilnahmlos verhalten habe.

♦Leipz. Diss., pp. 40-47. *Anm. zu III, 23 (p. 621).

12 H. 8CHOENFELD.

und aus inneren Grunden die Beziehung zwischen Erasmus und Rabelais darthun wird.^

Es ist eine bewiesene Thatsacbe, dass Kabelais in seinem fruhen Jiinglingsalter erasmische Schriften zu seinem Special- studium gemacht hat. Erasmus kam im Jahre 1496 das erste Mai nach Paris ; sein standiger Aufenthalt daselbst fallt in die Jahre 1603-1504. Die erste Ausgabe seiner Adagia erfolgte 1600, die aber in der definitiven Ausgabe seit 1616, in der sie wohl Rabelais benutzt, aus einem " opus jejenum atque inops " zu einem starken Folianten mit mehr als 4000 Sprichwoilern geworden war, voll von den heftigsten Ausfallen g^en die Frauen, Juristen, Adligen, gegen die Eitelkeit der versehie- denen Stande und Nationen und besonders gegen die Feinde der Human isten, die Monche, Ceremonien, Vernachlassigung des wahren Inhalts der Religion, die weltliche Macht der Pabste. Erasmus war bereits das anerkannte Haupt des Humanis- mus und der bestgehasste Mann seitens der Scholastiker und Monche, als urn das Jahr 1623 in den Zellen des Franziscaner- klosters zu Fontenay-le-Comte in Poitou bei Pierre Amy ^ und unserem Rabelais griechische Biicher^ und einige theologische und politische Schriften des Erasmus, den man der Anhanger- schaft an Jjuther verdachtigte, gefunden wurden.* Er entging

^ Die folgende Bemerkung Sainte-Beuve's, so geistreich sie ist, ist schief, ja sogar falsch, weil sie Erasmus vor anderen Quellen nicht scharf genug her- ▼ortreten IHsst : " Ce fut tout k la fois Erasme et Boccace, Beuchlin et Mar- guerite de Navarre: ou plutdt de tous ces souvenirs, confondOs, dig^r^ et vivifi^ au sein d'un g^nie original, sortit une oeuvre inoui'e, ro^l^ de scienoe, d'obsc^nit^, de comique, d' Eloquence et de fantaisie, qui rappelle tout, sans ^tre comparable k rien, qui vous saisit et vous d^conoerte, vous enivre et voub d^goAte, et dont on pent, apri^ s'y ^tre beaucoup plu et I'avoir beauooup ad- mir^ se demander s^rieusement, si on Ta comprise." Tabl. de la Poisie Fr. au X VP siMe, pp. 260-261.

* " Qui disputait k Babelais Fhonneur de correspondre en grec avee Guil- laume Bud^." Jacob, Einl. 5.

' On a trouv^ depub peu une nouvelle langue qu'on appelle grecque. II faut s'en garder avec soin : cette langue enfante toutes les h^r^es. (Nisard, HisL de la LiU.frang. I, 248.

* Budaei Epiatolae graecae^ pp. 136, 137, 145. Vide Bath^rj, Notice 8ur Rab»^ p. 12, Anm. 2 u. 3.

RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 13

der Grefahr indes dank dem Einiluss des Budaeus und anderer machtiger Freunde ; wie viel er aber den erasmischen Studien in der Klosterzelie verdankte^ bekannte er selbst in jenem beruhmten Briefe^ aus der Periode seines Aufenthalts zu Lyon (1532-1535 [Marz]), iiber dessen Adressalen lange eine Con- troverse geschwebt, bis Birch-Hirschfeld * aus inneren Griinden zur Evidenz nachgewiesen, dass er nicht^ wie Ratherj (Notice, 28), Marty-Laveaux (III, 322), Paul Lacroix (EinL, p. 18) will, an " Bartbelemy Salignac, gentilhomme berruyer " ge- richtet ist, sondern eben an Erasmus (gesclirieben am 30. Nov. 1532, als Rabelais gerade an seinem Pantagruel arbeitete).

Eine weitere starke Evidenz fur die literarische Anlehnung Rabelais' an den grossen Meister liegt neben der inneren Ver- wandtschafl der beiderseitigen satirisehen Schriften in der nahezu gleicheu Lebensfuhrung und den Lebensschicksalen beider Manner, die gleiche Wirkungen zur Folge batten.

Der Ursprung beider Manner li^t nicht in historischer Klarheit vor. Die uneheliche Greburt des Erasmus ist fur ihn spater eine Quelle bescbamender Demiitigung geworden.' Auch Rabelais' Greburtsumstande sind noch nicht gehorig ge- kiart. Wenn man 1495 (Jacob 1 483?) als Datum seiner Geburt, den Stand seines Vaters als den eines Landwirtes und Wein- bauers (nach anderen Apothekers) annimmt, so wissen wir uber seine Mutter absolut gar Nichts.

Beide Manner durchlief'en ungefahr denselben Klostergang und dieselben Vergewaltigungen des Geistes zeitigten die nam- lichen Resultate. Bitterkeit und Reue iiber den Verlust kostbarer Zeit und uber die falsche Jugendrichtung begleitete Erasmus durch das Leben. In der Klosterhaft zu Stein

^ Mitgeteilt bei Jacob, EtrU,, p. 19 : " . . . avrh rovro vir/ firaBts^ qui me tibi de facie ignotum, . . . dc educasti, dc castissiinis divinae taae uberibus uaqae aloisti, at quidquid som et valeo, tibi id uni acceptum, ni feram, homi- inum omnium . . . ingratissimus sim."

*!, 216, Anm. S.— <^. Th. Ziesing: Erarnie ou Salignacf Paris, 18S7.

' Nisard, Bev, des Deux Mondes^ 1835, voL III : '^ Le fameux Julius Scali- ger qui avait une jalousie miserable oontre Erasme, ne pouvant rien contre sea toits, s^en prit honteusement & sa naiasanoe/'

14 H. 8CHOENFELD.

(Em mails) bei Gouda haben sich seine antiklosterlichen and antimonchischen Tendenzen gebildet und im spatercn Leben gefestigt.

(lanz so ist es Rabelais ergangen.* Die Benediktinerabtei Seuilly, wie der Minoritennonvent (La Basmette), sowie der mehr als zehnjahrige Aiifenthalt im Franziscanerkloster Fon- tenay mit den mannichfachen triiben Erfahrungen daselbst nahrte seinen Hass gegen das Kloster und Monchswesen, von dem seine spatercn Schriften zeugen. Widerrechtlich schied er aiis, erlangte aber Clemens' VII Indult (1524), in die Bene- diktinerabtei Maillezais uberzusiedeln, aber auch hier dauerte sein Aufenthalt niclit lange ; etwa 1526 gab er seinem ausseren liel)en eine neue Wendung^ und begab sicb auf die Wander- schafl, erst i. J. 1530 nach Montpellier, um Medizin zu stu- dieren. Aber er l)egegnete viele Jahre spiiter (1535) der ev. daraus resultirenden Gefahr diirch eine supplicatio pro apo- stasia an Paul III,^ der denn auch seinem "geliebten Sohn" vaterlich verzieh.

Dieselben Vorgiinge batten sich fast in alien Stucken in Erasmus' I^ben ereignet. Aucli er hatte das Priesterkleid abgclegt, als er in Bologna auf Grund dieser Kleidung fur einen Pestarzt gehalten und angefallen worden war. Auch er erwirkte, wie Rabelais spater, pTibstliche Breve, verstand sein eigenmaclitiges Vorgehen nachtraglich durch die hochste kirch- liohe (levralt mit dem Schein des Reehtes zu umkleiden; auch er richtete Supplicationen an den heiligen Stuhl, um fur Able- gung des Monchsgewandes Verzeihung zu erlangen. In dem Breve vom 26. Januar 1517 willfahrte Pabst Leo X dem ** geliebten Si>hiie," dessen Sittenreinheit, (relehrsamkeit und

» Ausfuhrlich bei Biroh-H. 1, 218 ff.

***\\ jeta, comme on dit, le froc aux orties.'- Sainte-Beuve, Cbnueries du lAindu

* Jacobs ESni. 33, Text der suppl. ibid. J^isii. 35 u. 36, Breve: ''omnem inhabilitatis et infamiae maculam sive notam ex praemiasis insargentem penitus abolemus teque in pristinum statnm restituimus et plenarie rein- legramus."

RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 15

sonstige Verdienste auszeichnendes Lob erhalten.^ Ganz der- selbe Process wiederholte sich auch bei Hiitten,' allerdings ohne die nachtragliche pabstliche Sanction, denn er allein blieb durchw^ consequent in seinem Handeln. Als der Abt Johann II, Graf v. Henneberg, aus den Mauern seines Stifls zu Fulda alle weltlichen Beschafligungen ausschloss, brachte die Flucht allein Rettung.

Seitjenem Conflict beginnt dieeigentlicheRuhmeslaufbahn aller dieser geistigen Fuhrer — bei Erasmus und Rabelais wenn auch ausserlich verschieden, so doch innerlich nach dersel- ben humanistischen Richtung und — mutatis mutandis — gleich angefeindet aus gleichen Ursachen und von den gleichen Ele- menten, — beide "pr^urseurs et initiateurs de I'esprit mo- derne;" das "celeste manne de honueste savoir" beseeligt beide, um eine neue Epoche einer neuen Welt zu inauguriren.

BILDUNG8BE8TREBUNGEN UND ALLGEMEINE SatJRE BEI

Erasmus und Rabelais.

Hirschfeld^s * Worte : '* Rabelais liegt vor Allem der Fort- schritt der Menschheit durch die ^ Wiederherstellung der guten Wissenschaften ' am Herzen ; sein Interesse ist daher kein kirchliches, kein politisches, auch nicht vorzugsweise ein reli- gioses, sondern vorzugsweise ein Bildungsinteresse, daher sein Kampf gegen das bildungsfeindliche Monchswesen," diese pragnanten Worte gelten wortlich und unvermindert auch fur Erasmus. Ihre Achtung und Liebe fur die Bildung ist ana- log. Mit Beziehung auf die Apotheosis Capnionis erklart er in De Colhquiorum Viilitate seine Lehre, "quantum honoris

^ Karl Hartfelder, Desid. Erasmus und die Pahste aeiner Zeit, Hist. Taa- chenbuch, VI. Folge, 11. Jahi^. pp. 131-132. Nisard, Bev, des D. M. 1835.

'Strauss, Ulrieh von HuUeny p. 15: "Gleichsam vorbildlich steht in dem Jugendleben verschiedener zur freien Entwicklung und zur Befreiung an- derer berufnen Menschen eine solche Flucht. . . . Die Fessel wird ge- sprengt, u. damit hat der Character u. das femere Leben sein bleibendes Geprage erhalten. So bei Schiller, so bei Hutten I "

'1,268.

16 H. SCHOENFELD.

debeatur egregiis viris, qui suis vigiliis bene meriti sunt de liberalibus studiis/'

Derselbe Keichtum an Material und Ideen, die namlichen AuregUDgen des Wisseus und des Lebens, derselbe Greist dcr Reform jedoch in geistiger Unabhangigkeit, der Rabelais am Ende mit Calvin, wie Erasmus mit Luther und dem den letz- teren noch verteidigenden Hutten ^ zusammenstossen liess, ein Geist, der die Reinigung ohne die furchtbare Revolution im Schoosse der katholischen Kirche vornehmeu lassen woUte; derselbe Kampf gegen das Veraltete, missbrauchlich Gewor- dene, Klosterleben, unsinnigen Heiligencult (denn das person- lich Heilige erkannten Beide an), Reliquienschwindel, Ablass- wesen, wie es in ihrer Zeit ausgeartet, gegen die Fastengebote, Ehelosigkeit, Ubergriffe des Pabsttums, die auf materiellen Erwerb erpichte Wirtschaft in Rom ; dieselbe Geisselung der alien Berufstanden anhaftenden Mangel ; derselbe Spott uber das Treiben der Fursten und Grossen, uber verderbte Richter und Beamte, Geistliche und Lebrer, sowie deren verzwickte, brutale, scholastische Erziehung ; alle diese Zuge finden sieh Zug fur Zug bei Rabelais wie bei Erasmus, wobei in beiden Fallen die Satire und der Spott — wenn nicht etwa der helle Zom uber die " besterie " bervorbricht — durch die '* humani- tas," das Verstandnis fur menschliehe Scliwache — "tout com- prendre, c'est tout pardonner" — gemildert wird, die Fehler nicht selten mit dem Schleier der Narrenkappe christlich zuge- deckt werden. Nur wiihlt Rabelais der Natur seines Knnst- romanes nach Charactere als Reprasentanten der Stande, Eras- mus im Encomium Moriae die Stande als Granzes : " lam vero ut de mordacitatis cavillatione respondeam, semper haec ingeniis libertas permissa fuit, ut in communem homi- num vitam salibus luderent impune, modo ne licentia exiret in rabiem. ... At enim qui vitas hominum ita taxat, ut neminem omnino {lerstringat nominatim, quaeso, utrum is

* StrausB hat schwerlich Uniecht, wenn er behauptet, daas auch Hatten, hatte er langer gelebt spater mit Lather in Conflict geraten ware, freilich aos etwas verschiedenen Ursachen als Erasmus.

RABELAIS UKD ERASMUS. 17

mordere videtur, an docere potius, ac raonere ? . . . Praeterea qui nullum hominum genus praetermittit, is null! homini, vitiis omnibus iratus videtur. Ergo si quis exstiterit, qui sese laesum clamabit, is aut conscientiam prodet, aut certe metum. . . . Nos praeterquam quod a nominibus in totum abstine- muSy ita praeterea stilum temperavimus, ut oordatus lector facile sit intellecturus noa voluptatem magis qaam morsum qaae- siaae." Freilich ist Erasmus gar oft von diesem Princip abge- wicheu und hat sich besonders in den OoUoquia durchaus nicht gescheut, selbst hohe und einflussreiche Personen durchsichtig genug zu persiffliren, was auch Rabelais in Ausfallen wider Pontanus, Gralland^ Ramus, Calvin reichlich gethan hat.^ Bei der Congenialitat Beider lag es nahe, dass sie angesichts der- selben Missbrauche in Deutschland und Frankreich dieselben Stande in den Kreis ihrer Betrachtungen zogen, und das waren fast alle : "Atque hie sermo per omnes ordinum et professio- nura formas circumferri potest." ^

Beiden ^* hat es so wollen behagen, mit Lachen die Wahrheit zu sageu," denn " le ryre est le propre de Phomme " sagt Rabe- lais, und Erasmus : ^' Ut enira nihil nugacius, quam seria nuga- torie tractare, ita nihil festivius, quam ita tractare nugas, ut nihil minus quam nugatus fuisse videaris. . . . Stultitiam lau- davimus, sed non omnino stulte."*

Aber beide Humanisten machen von vornherein den Leser auf den kostbaren Schatz, der unter der sonderbaren Hiille ihres Werkes verborgen ist, aufmerksam. Das Horazische ^* ludo quaerere vera " miisse auch dem Gelehrten erlaubt sein : ^' Nam quae tandem est iniquitas, quum omni vitae instituto suos lusus concedamus, studiis nullum omnino lusum per- mittere, maxime si nugae seria ducunt atque ita tractentur ludicra, ut ex his aliquanto plus frugis referat lector non om-

1 Birch-H. I, 270.

•iX^wo^wyfo.— tJber Rab/s Weltaadre cf. den Satz De Thou's: "Scriptam edidit iiigeniosisBimam, quo vitae regnique omnes ordines, quasi in scoenam sab fictis nominibos prodnxit et popnlo deridendos propinavit^'

» Pra^atio E, M,

2

18 H. SCHOEKFELD.

nino Daris obesae^ quam ex quorundam tetricis ac spleudidis argumentis ? " *

Uud Rabelais ? Er ist sich der oft anstossigen Form seines Werkes wohl bewusst. Wie man fur Socrates [" sans contro- verse prince des philosophes "] nicht einen PfiflFerling gegeben hatte [" n'en eussiez donn6 un coupon d'oignon "] nach seiner ausseren Erscheinung ['* tant laid il etait de corps, et ridicule en son maintien . . . le visage d'un fol etc/'], aber auch sein gottliches Wissen immer verbergeud,' so sollte der Leser aus den spassigen Titeln seiner Bucher nicht etwa auf torichte Spasse schliessen [^^ n'^tre au dedans traite que moqueries, folateries et menteries joyeuses"], denn "das Kleid macht nicht den Monch," sondem er sollte das gottliche Mark (" la mouelle qui est aliment elabour^ Sl perfection de nature '') aus seinem Werke 8ch5pfen : . . . *^ car en icelle bien autre goust trouverez, et doctrine plus abeoonse, laquelle vous revelera de tres hauts sacremens et mysteres horrifiques, tant en ce qiLC conceme nostre religion, que aussi Pedat politicq et vie oeconomicqueJ^ Belehren und nebenher alles Wissenswerte in Form von Geschichten, Anekdoten, Belegstellen etc. ausstreuen, das ist die Methode Beider : '' Ut enim omittam tot serias sententias mediis iocis admixtas ; tot fabulas, tot historias, tot rerum naturas dignas cognitu," ^ . . . und wiederum : *^ Socrates philosophiam coelo deduxit in terras : ego philosophiam etiam in lusus, confabu- lationes et compotationes deduxi. Oportet enim et ludicra Christianorum sapere philosophiam " * . . . und einige Seiten weiter : '' Atque hie libellus tradet illos ad multas disciplinas magis habiles, ad poeticen, ad rhetoricen." . . .

Aber bei beiden Humanisten li^ fur den Leser bei der Ausl^^ung eine Gefahr nahe, namlich die : '* legt ihr nicht aus, so 1^ ihr unter." Beide haben sich denn auch g^en diese Unterstellungen verwahrt. So Erasmus in seinem De UtilUate

» Praef. E. M,

' Verborgne socratische Weisheit, wie oben.

' De Oolloqmorum UtUUaU. « Oolloqu. Senile,

RABELAIS VSD ERASMUS. 19

OoUoquiorum ad Lectorem: ''Adeo nunc in omnes et in omnia per universum orbem grassatur oomitata Funis 17 SiafioXi], ut tutum non sit ullum emittere librum, nisi satellitio munitum. Quamquam quid satis esse tutum possit adversus syoophantae morsnm, qui, velut aspis ad vocem incantantis, ita ad omnem purgationem quamvis iustissimam obturat aures?" ... So weist auch Rabelais die Ausleger ab mit ihrer Sucht *' de galle- freter des all^ories qu'onques ne furent songees par I'auteur," * eine Verwahrung, die den in demselben Prolog vorher gethanen Ausserungen/^das Mark auszusaugen/' nicht etwa widerspricht, wie denn auch — nach Bireh-H.'s' richtiger Bemerkung — An- spielungen auf Selbsterlebtes, auf bekannte Personlichkeiten, bestimmte politische Zustande und geschichtliche Vorgange deutlieh genug hervortreten.

Beide Satiriker und Huraanisten haben das Ungluck gehabt, dass Teile ihrer Werke unter ihrer Hand wider ihren Willen verandert und herausgegeben wurden und einen gefahrlichen Sturra gegen sie erregten. Es gab zwar in den Werken Beider an sich genug des dem Angriff OflFnen, und Beide haben sich wohl hinter diesen imaginaren Schutzwall der angebliehen Falschung dureh andere gestellt, urn sich erfolgreicher vertei- digeu zu konnen. Beide l>edauerten wohl nachtraglich, Man- ches so crass ausgesprochen zu haben, und Rath^ry behauptet wohl mit Recht von Rabelais : " I^es alterations du texte de

^ Freilich bleibt des Dunklen, Unerklarbaren bei dem genialen, tiefen Denker Bab. so viel, dass Bargaud Des Marets' geistreiche Bemerkung ihren tiefen Sinn hat: ''Moi aossi je sais quand Dante, Rabelais et le g^ant Shakespeare ne seront plus compris de personne . . . le lendemain du jour oii les oommentateurs auront tout expliqu^." Es ware freilich wiinschens- wert, Rab. hatte uns etwas deutlicher sein Leben und seine Zeit vorgefuhrt, um eben das viele Raten und Irren der Zukunft zu ersparen ^ Je voudrais que les auteurs nous donnassent Phistoire de leurs d^oouvertes et les progr^ par leaquels y sont arrives. Quand il ne le font point, il faut tdcher de U» deviner pour mUux profiler de lean ouvrages." Leibniz, ed. Erdmann, p. 722 b.

•1,271.

20 H. SCHOENFELD.

Rabelais sont dues k I'obligation ot s'est trouv6 I'auteur de supprimer les hardiesses des premieres editions pour 6viter que lui et le livre ne fussent jet^ au bdcber." Wiederholt beklagt sich Erasmus iiber jene angeblichen Falschungen, so z. B. in einem Briefe vom 6. Oktober 1532 an Johannes Cholerus: "Larabertus Campester, qui olim Lutetiae edidit colloquia mea velut a me emendata, persuaso typographo rem esse ven- dibilera, et sub nomine meo praefatur^ et admixtis per totum opus miris emblematibus . . ./' in einem anderen Briefe vom 22. April 1536 : ^' Huius generis erant colloquia, quae Helenius quidam^ baud scio unde nactus, nam apud me nullum unquam fiiit exemplar, care vendidit Joanni Frobenio, simulans alios esse typographos qui empta cuperent." Damit war dann natiir- lich auch jeder Missbrauch ermoglicht. Ausfuhrlich behandelt Erasmus diesen G^^enstand in '^ Coronis Apologetica Pro CoU. Er. De Sycophantiis et imposturis cuiusdam Dominicani, qui in Gallia Colloquia Erasmi, a se ridicule interpolata, edi cura- verat, Erasmi Admonitiuncula:" .... **Addidit impostor novam praefationem meo nomine, in qua fecit tres viros in uno puero instituendo sudantes ; Capitonem, qui tradidit lite- ras Hebraicas, Beatum, qui Graecas ; me, qui Latinas .... significans, in colloquiis inspersa quaedam, quae Lutheri re- sipiant dogmata ; und etwas spater : Olim capitale erat edere quicquam alieno nomine; nunc tales sycophantias in vulgus spargere, ficto ipsius nomine qui traducitur, Indus ei$t theolo- gorum : nam vult theologus videri, quum res ilium clamitet ne pilum quidem tenere rei theologicae. . . . Qui tale faci- nus audet, idem non dubitabit incendium aut veneficium admittere."

Dasselbe ist Rabelais wenigstens mit einem Buche passirt. Birch-H.* sagt dariiber : "Sicher ohne Einwilligung des Ver- fassers erschien aber bald darauf eine Fortsetzung des Panta- gruel (als IV Buch) in Lyons. Diese unrechinulssige Ausgabe enthalt .... nur einen Entwurf der spateren Ausfuhrung." Und ein Privileg Heinrichs II constatirt, dass Rabelais sich

>I, 244.

BABELAIS UND EBA8MUS. 21

aber die Drucker beklagt babe, die sein Werk an verschiedenen Stellen geandert^ verderbt und verdreht haben. Rath^rj meint mit Bezug darauf: "Cette allegation n'^tait qu'une finesse, bien excusable en faoe du bficher toujours allum^ ! " Jeden- fidls bedurfibe es des ganzen Einflusses des machtigen Beschiit- zers, Bischofs du ChAtel, der ihn zur Fortsetzung seines Werkes ermuntert haben soil/ g^en die Censur der Sorbonne und das Verbot des Parlaments das IV Buch drucken zu lassen.

Beide Manner haben der Haeresie und somit dera Scheiter- haufen nahe genug gestanden. Beide haben sich wiederholt — zuweilen fast mit denselben Worten — gegen die Anklagen der Ketzerei, die von der katholischen wie antikatholischen Seite g^en sie erhoben wurden, verteidigen miissen. So Erasmus : * " Demiror, Dolae tantum posse duos Franciscanos. CoUoquia et venduntur et excuduntur Lutetiae, et Dolae exulant. Qui dicunt, in illis aliquid esse haeretieum, sive docti sive indocti, mentiuntur. Id liquido perspiciet qui legerit meas declara- tiones." Mit scharfem, geistreichem Sarcasmus lasst er die Dime in OoU. Adolescentis et Scorti sagen : "Aiunt ilium (so. Erasraum) esse aesquihaereticum" mit dem Seitenhieb, den er den M5nchen versetzt, sie (die Dime) habe das von den " viris reverendis " (ihren besten Kundeu) gehort.

So verteidigt auch Kabelais stets seinen rechten Glauben : * " Car I'une des moindres contumelies dont ilz usoient, estoit que telz livres tons estoient farziz d'heresies diverses : n'en pouvoient toutes fois une seule exhiber en endroit aucun ; de folastries joyeuses, hors I'offense de Dieu et du Roy, prou ; d'heresies point ; ... si en ma vie, escrits, paroles, voire certes pens^s, je recognoissois scintille aucune d'heresie, ilz ne tom- beroient tant detestablement es lacs de I'esprit calomniateur, c'est diabolos,* qui par leur ministere me suscite tel crime.^^

* Prol. IV : " par votre exhortation tant honorable m*avez donn^ et cou- rage et invention." ' In epistola scripta Basileae, anno 1536. 17 Maii. ^Epitre a Momeignewr Odel, IV. ^€f. Grassatur Furiis oomitata ri 8ia/9oA.^. (Erasm.)

22 H. SCHOENFELD.

Aber Stellen wie die stupende Auaseriing iiber die christliche Religion und ihre Verwandtscliaft mit der Torheit im E. M. — wenn auch nur im Scherz gesagt — und eine Bemerkung im Merdardus, so wie der Scherz des Buchstabenspiels "Ane" statt "ame,"* Leichtfertigkeiten, wie sie Birch-H.^ aafzahlt, boten wohl Handhaben genug zura Angriff bei Beiden, mochte Rabelais beabsichtigte oder unbeabsichtigte Druckfehler vor- schiitzen oder Erasmus das als Verleuradungen hinstellen : " Ea vox Sycophantae fuit, non Erasmi."

Am besten erscheint die Congenialitat des Rabelais und Erasmus und die Beziehung des ersteren zu dem letzeren aus den Freunden und Feinden der Werke Beider. Zu den Fein- den und Hassern unserer Satiriker und Huraanisten gehoren nun in erster Reihe die Leute, die man gemeiniglich als "Dunkelmiinner*' bezeichnet, dann aber sind audi ihre Ge- sinnungsgenossen beinah aus denselben Ursachen ihnen gram geworden. Hutten^ geriet in eine erbitterte Fehde mit Eras- mus, weil dieser "nachdem er das Ei gelegt, das Luther aus- gebriitet," sich scheu und iingstlich vor den Folgen verbarg und dera tapferen Ritter beinah feig erscheinen musste; Rabe- lais seinerseits wird von Desperiere in dera 1537 in Paris erscheinenden " Cymbalum Mundi " (Weltglocke) tiiphtig durehgehechelt.* In dem letzten der vier Gespriiche steht eine Unterhaltung zwischen Pamphagus (Rabelais) und Hylaktor (Dolet?), zwei Hunden, die beide nicht zufrieden sind; aber Hylaktor giebt seiner Misstimmung oflFen Ausdruck, indes Pamphagus vorsichtig ermahnt zur Jagd zuriickzukehren, um " mit offenem Maul und hervorhjingender Zunge " den Glauben zu erweeken, sie waren mitgerannt. In den bitteren Vorwiir- fen Huttens gegen Erasmus und der versteckten Satire Despe-

' Oeuvresy III. 22 Anm. 11 (bei Rath^ry). «I, 275, Anm.

'"Als nach des hellen freisinnigen Zwingli Falle der geistvolle, aber finstere Calvin den Scheiterhaufen Servets echiirte und die Praedestinations- lehre ausbildete, da ware auch in diesem Lager seines Bleibens nicht langer gewesen;" — Strauss, U. v. HutteUy p. 672.

*Birch-H. p. 38.

RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 23

riere gegen Rabelais ist ein gutes Stuck Wahrheit enthalteD^ aber nicht in alien Stiickeu.

Erasmus und Rabelais mussten es der Natur ihres Wesens nach mit beiden Lagern verderben.* Denn bei beiden ist der humanistische Radikalismus vorherrschend, wenn auch Beide Satze aufgestellt haben, die Protestanten und Katholiken, In- differente und Radikale berechtigen konnen, sie Beide als die ihrigen zu betraehten. Daher kommt es, dass die Fuhrer des Potestantismus, hier Luther, dort Calvin, viel erbitterter g^en diese Manner auftreten, als g^en die Haupter der katho- lischen Kirche, wiihrend diese sich nur mit Wider\villen die com prom ittirenden Bundesgenossen gefallen lassen.

Zwar zuerst scheint es, als ob Erasmus mit Luther, Rabelais mit Calvin gemeinsame Sache machen wiirden, al)er bald glaubte Luther zu erkennen, dass Erasmus " ein listiger, tiickischer Mann, ein Spotter und Verwuster der Religion sei." ' " Er hat das Pabstthum gereizt u. vexirt, nun zeucht er den Kopf aus der Schlingen" (61, 93). "Ob er gleich den Pabst rait seinen Ceremonien verspottet, so hat er ihn doch nicht con- futirt noch erlegt; denn mitVexiren und Spotteu schliigt man die Feinde nicht; ja, indera er das Pabstthum spottet, ver- spottet er Christum." . . . ** Erasmus is eip gottloser Meusch, hat keinen Glauben, denn eben den rechten romischen Glauben, glaubt eben das, das Pabst Clemens glaubt. Ich will ihn ein- mal von dem Argwohn erledigen bei den Papisten, dass er nicht lutherisch ist, sondern ein papistischer Klotz, der Alles

^ So auch der beruhmte Wilibald Pirckheimer : " Er sei anfanglich gut lutherisch gewesen, wie der selige Albrecht Diirer (11528) auch," bekennt er kurz vor seinem Tode in einem merkwiirdigen Briefe, " well sie gehofit haben, die romische Biiberei, desgleichen der Monche und Pfafien Schalk- heit sollte gebessert werden. Allein statt dessen babe sich die Sache also verschlimmert, dass in Vergleichung mit den evangelischen Buben die vorigen fromm erscheinen. Das schreibe er jedoch nicht darum, dfisa er des PiahaUa und seiner P/affen und Monche Wesen loben konnte oder mochte ; viel- mehr wisse er, dass es in viel Weg straflich sei und einer Besserung bediirfe ; nur sei leider vor Augen, dass auch das neue Wesen in keiner Weist zu lobenJ* D. F. Btrauss, Ulrich von HuUen, p. 656.

* Joh. Conr. Irmischer, Band 61, p. 38 ff., 100 ff., 107, 1 12 f.

24 H. SCHOENFELD.

glaubt, was der Pabst will, iind doch Alles verlacht und treibt sein Gresp5tt draus " (61, 95). " Da Erasmus sein Bucb Moriam geschrieben, hat er eine Tochter gezeuget, die ist wie er. Denn also pflegt sich der Ael zu schlingen, winden und beissen ; aber er als ein Morio und Stocknarr hat Moriam, eine rechte Narre- rei geschrieben" (61, 99). Derselbe Gregensatz, der spater Sabelais rait Calvin in dem Streite uber den freien Willen collidiren machte, der G^ensatz zwischen der " Fais ee que voudras " Maxime des Klosters Thel^me und der Praedestina- tionslehre Calvins entbrannte auch zwischen Luther und Eras- mus : " Und zwar hat er wider mich geschrieben in seinem Biiehlein Hyperaspiste, in dem er vertheidigen will sein Buch voin freien TFiY/en, da wider ich in meinem Buch vom knechti^eti M'Vlen geschrieben hab, das er noch nicht verl^ hat und nimmermehr in Ewigkeit verlegen wird k5nnen " (Gl, 106).

Erasmus selbst hat seine Polemik gegen Luther viel ruck- siehtsvoller gefuhrt. Uberall da, wo er mit den reformato- rischen Miinnern selbst, mit Luther, Melanchthon, Spalatin, Justus Jonas, Zwingli, u. s. w. verkehrt, lasst er Mahnungen zur Sanflmut, zum Maasshalten, zur Vorsicht einfliessen. Man sollte sich den geordneten Autoritaten des Pal)stes,der Bischofe, dor Fiirsten unterordnen, nicht das Volk in Aufregung ver- setzen, man sollte lieber in Einigem den Irrthum imd den Missbniuch noch dulden, als im Kampfe fur die Wahrheit die Welt in Unruhe versetzen ; es sei nicht angebracht, stets die Wahrheit zu sagen ; die Gelehrten sollen sich unter einander iibor die Mittel zur Besserung beraten und ihre Vorschlage sodann in geheimen Briefen dem Pabst und dem Kaiser zu goueigter Beach tung vorlegen ! *

Dersell)e Gegensatz ontwiokolte sich zwischen Rabelais und Calvin bis ins Einzelne. Auch Calvin hatte gehofft, den be- deutenden, geistesgewaltigen llabelais ganz und gar fnr sich gewinnen zu konnen. Aber seine Natur und Gesinnung der

* Rudolf StHhoUn, KnuwiiM' Strung zur R^ormaiion, Basel 1S73.

RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 25

Herbheit und Intoleranz widerstrebte allzusehr der human!- taren, milden Toleranz des Rabelais/ and ausserdem wider- strebte ibm die Bildung einer neuen Seete ebenso, wie dem Erasmus, weil durch deren Bildung der Bestand der Gemein- schaft gefahrdet erschien. So kam er denn schliesslich dahin, den neuen Religionsstifter und dessen ibm so widerwartige Vorbestimmungslehre bitter anzugreifen,^ was ibm denn auch von Calvin und dessen Anhangem Robert und Henri Esti- enne,* Theodor Beza u. s. w. reichlich vergolten wurde.*

Aus ihrem eigenen Lager, aus dem sich Beide nominell nie entfemt batten, weun aucb Erasmus factisch Grundlehren der katbolischen Kirche, wie die Lehre von der Dreieinigkeit, die Erbsunde, die Gegenwart Christi im Abendmahl, das Recht der Heiligenverehrung, das Wesen der Hollenstrafen, die Be- rechtigung der Messe, der Beichte und des Ablasses angriflF, und Rabelais auf Grund seiner Satire auf ebendieselben Ein- richtungen und Missstande der romischen Kirche von Bireh- H.* geradezu als Evangelischer und Anhanger der franz5sischen Reformation hingestellt wird, haufen sich die AngriflTe und Auklagen der Ketzerei gegen Beide in schreckenerregender Weise. Von welcher Art diese Anklagen gewesen, lasst sich am besten aus den gelegentlichen Verteidigungen und Wider- legungen unserer Autoren reconstruiren. In Coronia Apolo- getica, gerichtet an die Theologen zu Loewen, thut Erasmus einen Klaffer fiir alle ab und fiihrt die Angriffe auf ihr wahres Wesen zuruck : . . . " Quis non intelligit, ista [gehassige

^ " rhumeur chagrine (sa de Calvin) avait de tout tempe r^pugn^ & sa nature franchement Gauloise/^ Bath^ry, Notice^ p. 62.

* " Les Demoniacles Calvins, imposteurs de Geneve," Oeuvres IV, 32.

' " Quoique Bab. semble 6tre des n6tres, toutefois il jette souvent des pi- erres dans notre jardin." (Apoloffie pour HSrocUiU).

* AusfuhrUch bei Birch-H. I, 246 ff. Rath^ry, Notice, pp. 62-63. Jacob Bibliophile, Notice^ 64.

»I, 266-267.

Vgl. dagegen Colletet's Bemerkung (bei Burgand et Rath^rj, Notice^ p. 36): ''Bab. ne laissait pas d' avoir de pieuz et divots sentiments et de deff^rer merveilleusement (?) aux saintes constitutions de I'Eglise catholi- que et orthodoze qu41 reconnut toujours pour sa veritable mdre."

26 H. 8CH0ENPELD.

AugrifFe] proficisci a private quodam odio? Quamquam a me qiiideni in nulla re laesus est ; nisi quod favi bonis litieriSy quas Uie plus quam capUcUiter odit, nee scU quam ob rem} Et interim gloriatur, sibi quoque telum esse, quo se uleisoatur . . . Quid furiosi us, quam quod Mechliniae in publica concione monuit |x)pulum, ut caveret ab haeresi Lutheri et Erasmi? . . . Isti, quidquid odit, Lutheranum est et haereticum. Sic opinor tenue zythum, vapidura vinura, et ius insipidum isti Luther- anum vocabitur: et lingua Graeca, quam unice odU, opinor ob id, quod banc apostoli tanto honore dignati sint, ut non alia scripseriut, Lutherana vocabitur." ..." Clamat totum Lutherum esse in libris meis, omnia undique scatere haereticis erroribus." Gegen die ganze Klasse seiner Widersacher ver- wahrt er sich in De Oolioquhrum Utilitate: . . . "Genus mire biliteon, qui sic pronunciant de meis coUoquiis, opus esse fugiendum, praesertim monacbis, quos illi Religiosos appellant, et adolescentibus, eo (piod ieiunia et abstinentiae ecclesiae parvi penderentur : l^eatae virginis et sanctorum pro ludibrio habe- rentur suffragia; virginitas, si coniugio ct»nferatur, nullius esse aut parvi moment! : religionis etiam dissuaderetur omni- bus ingressus : quodque in eo arduae theologiae questiones grammaticulis proponantur, contra statuta per magistros in artibus iurata." Also hier giebt Erasmus selbst eine ganze Dispasition der gegen ihn crhobenen Vorwiirfe dor Ketzerei, Vorwiirfe, die Punkt fiir Punkt ^ auch gegen Rabelais erhoben wurden. Gabriel de Puits-Herbault i'lbernimmt ihm gegen- iiber die Rolle des I^ewener Theologen, nach Antoine I^eroy eljenfalls niehr aus personliclier Feindschaft, als aus Fana- tismus.^ Das Fatale dieses AngrifFs* lag fiir Rabelais darin,

* La vraie querelle, dit il en mille endroits de ses ouvrages, c'est oelle qu'on fait aux lettres; \es vrais ennemis, ce sont les anciens qu*on veut faire rentrer dans leurs tombes ; le fond de la guerre religieose, c'est one guerre de Pignorance centre la lumiOre de Tantiquit^." Nisard, Eraxme, — So auch Rab., cf. Birch-H. I, 268, * Birch-H. I, 265 (oben).

' Zwar ware der Umistand, dass Rab. ihn als Modell fiir seinen geistig freien lean des Entommeures benutzt habe, sicher kein Grand zum Haase, wie Rath^ry {Sotict, p. 54 oben) zu vermuten geneigt ist.

* Birch-H. I, 248. Rath^iy, Notice, p. 52.

RABELAIS UND EBASMUS. 27

dass die uuglucklichen Zustande in Frankreich nach Franz^ I am 31. Marz 1547 erfolgten Tode ihn ins Exil trieben, wo er in bitteres Elend geriet.* Es ist eine gewisse Analogic zwischen der Flucht Rabelais' nach Metz und der formlichen Flucht des Erasmus aus Basel, der Unterschied liegt nur darin, dass ersterer vor seinen rechtglaubigen Briidern floh, der andere nicht in der reform! rten Stadt bleiben konnte oder wollte.

Es ware ein vergebliches B^innen, bei Beideu alle die Stellen anzuraerken, wo sie mit Zorn oder spottischer Satire gegen die Intoleranz der Monche und ihre Siinden ankampfen.^ In alien Lebenslagen und von alien Seiten kommen sie auf diese Heminnisse "der guten Wissenschaften " zuruck ; es ist das ceterum censeo bei Beiden. In dem Lob der Narrlieit nimmt die Satire die bitterste Form an und bei Rabelais steigert sie sich von Buch zu Buch.

Rabelais ist so gut wie Erasmus^ ein voUendeter Humanist. Partieen wie die von klassischer, edler Beredtsamkeit getragene Harangue d'Ulrich Grallet a Picrochole (I, 31.), Concion que fit Grargantua es vaineus (I, 60.), der Brief des Gargantua an

* A. Heulhard, Rahelaia, iKtyages en lUilie, 9on exil d, Metz. Alhenaeunif 3327. Rath^ry, Notice^ p. 62.

'Rabelais' "enrag^ Putherbe" und Erasmus' Monche, "qui suis sententiis homines pertrahunt ad incendium" sind ganz identisch.— "Ce n'est de main- tenant que les gens reduicts a la creance evangelique sont persecutes." (I^ 58). Dem Vorwurf, er begiinstige die Ketzer, begegnet Erasmus recht geistreich : "Nihil est sanctius quam favere haereticis . . . An non favet ille, qui studet, ut quis ex malo fiat bonus, ex mortuo vivns?" ( inquisitio de Fide).

• Er vergiHtert fi)rmlich Cicero ("non possum legere librum Ciceronis .... quin aliquoties exosculer codicem," Canv. Relig.\ fiihlt sich oft versucht zu sagen : " Sancte Socrates ora pro nobis I " Ganz wie das horazische Wort : "Haec exemplaria Graeca versate manu, versate, diuma, versate noctuma" klingt seine Mahnung: "Officia Ciceronis nunquam de manibus deponenda, et sunt quidem digna, quae cum ab omnibus turn praecipue ab his, qui desti- nandi sunt administrandae rei publicae, ad verbum ediscantur ; " dagegen lassen ihn die Neueren kalt : " ego citius patiar perire totum Scotum cum aliquot sui similibus quam libros unius Ciceronis aut Plutarchi." Er duldet Thomas und Scotus in den Schulen nur, bis etwas Besseres gefunden ist (" fons Sooti, lacus ranarum," Epitludamium Petri Aegidii). — cf. " Barbouillamenta Scoti" bei Rab. II, 7 unter den locherlich gemachten, fingirten Biichem der Bibliothek St.-Victor.

28 H. SGHOENFELD.

Pantagruel (II, 8.) beweisen das zur Evidenz. Rabelais lasst Grargantua seine eigenen Ansichten iiber das Aufbluben der Wissenscbafleii in jener grossen Zeit ausdrucken : ^^ Mainte- nant toutes disciplines sont restitutes, les langues instaur^, Grecque, sans laquelle c'est honte qu'une personne se die savant, Hebraicque, Caldaioque, Latine." Der treflBicbe Erziehungsplan wetteifert mit dem des Erasmus und Mon- taigne, ja ist ei*sterem durch die unbeanstandete Anerken- nung der Naturwissenschafteu,* letzterem durch die Befiir- wortung der Frauenerziehung weit uberlegen. Er ist ein Hut- ten in der Bekiimpfung der Dunkelmanner, ein Erasmus im Aufbau des Humanismus ; wie dieser zerst5rt er durch Spott und Satire den alten, schlechten Bau, aber er ist nicht nur ^^ein Geist, der stets verneint," sondern er fuhrt ganz wie Erasmus, wenn auch verschieden in der Methode, einen neuen Bau auf.

Ein Verdienst von weit grosserer Tragweite, als bisher er- kannt worden, erwarben beide Manner auf Grund ihrer erfolg- reiclien Bekampfung jeglichen Aberglaubens, in welcher Grestalt derselbeauoh immer erscheiuen niochte. Hatte Erasmus schon gelegentlich in der Inquisitio de Fide geiiussert: "... totam fiduciam et spem in ilium unum trausfero, detestans Satanam, onineni(|ue idololatriam, ot quidquid est artium magicarum ; '' so hat er die Vernichtung der Magie, Astrologie und Goldmacher- kunst' in einen eigenen Colloquium (^Alcumistica\ die der

' Kath^7, Notice^ p. 19. (Colletet*8 und Rouzeau's Auaspriiche). — III, 49, Anm. 3. (Rab. botaniste). — III, 52, Anm. 10. (Rab. und die Xaturwi»en- achafWn, Jaubert*8 Rede zu Montpellier vor der botanischen Gresellschafu)

* Vorlaufer unserer beiden llumanisten im Kampfe gegen die Astrologie, Alohymie und Magie ist Petrarca. " Zunacbst und vor Allem zieht er vor seine Schranken die Astrologen, Alchvmisten und alle die betrogenen Be- truger, welche durcb ibre Kiinste das zukiinftige Schicksal der Menschen lu ergrunden oder der Natur ihre Geheimnisse abzulauschen voigeben. Eine That des Mutes, so riicksicbts- und bedingungslos wie Petrarca den Trug und den Abcrglauben zu brandmarken. Hat er gleich noch Jahr- hundertelang fortgedauert, so bat docb unausgesetzt der Humanismus den Kampf dagegen wie ein £>be seines Erzvatensi auf sicb genommen und nabetu durcbgefubrt" Georg Voigt, Die Wiederhdebufig det kicas. AUer- tum$t I, 75.

RABELAIS UKD ERASMUS. 29

Chiromantie ira " OolL Senile^' unternommen. Auf die Frage des Polygamus, woher Pampirus die Reisekosten zur Wall- &hrt nach Jerusalem genommen habe, antwortet dieser : "... TO ri'xytov iraaa yfj Tp€(f}€t,'' " Quam artem circumferebas ? " " Chiromantieam.'' " Ubi earn didiceras ? '' " Quid refert ? " " Quo praeoeptore?" "Eo, qui nihil non docet, ventre. Prae- dioebam praeterita, futura, praesentia." " Et sciebas? '' " Nihil minus; sed divinabam audacter, idque tuto^ videlicet prius acoepto pretio.^' "An are tam ridicula poterat alere te?" " Poterat, et quidem cum duobus famulis. Tantum est ubique fatuorum et fatuarum." Granz dieselbe Meinung dem Sinne nach aussert Rabelais wiaderholentlich, so in dem bekaunten Briefe II, 8 : " Laisse moi I'astrologie divinatrice, et Part de Lullius (sc. alchimie), comme abus et vanity." Die Satire auf Her Trippa ist doch jedenfalls gegen die Astrologen und Geo- manten gerichtet, die Kapitel von der Sibylle (III, 16, 17, 18) sind auf den Aberglauben des Trauradeutens, der Orakel mit zweifachen Ausl^ungen gemiinzt. — Augenscheinlich ist die Mummerei der Grespenstersoene {Oeuvres, IV, 13), die den Greisterglauben satirisiren soil, dem erasmischen Muster ("jEr- orci^mua give Spectrum '') nachgebildet. Nur ist der Ausgang des spiritistischen Graukelspiels mit dem geafden Canonicus Faunus scherzhafler als bei Rabelais und enthalt die Lehre : "Antehac non soleo multum tribuere fabulis, quae vulgo ferun- tur de spectris; sed posthac multo minus tribuam: suspicor enim, ab hominibus credulis et Fauni similibus multa pro veris prodita literis, quae simili artificio sunt simulata." Bei Rabelais artet derselbe Scherz leider, wie so oft, in grausamer Weise aus. Hier wird Frater Ettienne Tappecoue, weil er nach den Statuten seines Ordens Kapuze und Stola fiir das Passionsspiel des Meister Fran9ois Villon nicht hatte leihen wollen, von diesem und seinen vermummten Teufeln auf seinem Heimritt grausam erschreckt und von dem erschreckten, scheu gewordenen Pferde zu Tode geschleift, woriiber daun Meister Villon eine unbandige Freude empfindet.^

^Siehe daruber Birch-H. I, 260-261.

30 H. 8CH0ENFELD.

Von weleher Culturbedeutung aber der Erweis der Nichtig- keit de8 Gespensterglaubens, der Alchymie und Wahrsage kunst in jencr glanbenstollen Zeit sein musste, lasst sich leicht ermcssen.

Da8S indes wenigstens Erasmus^ der doch den Heiligencultus im Encheiridion Militia Christiani als Uberrest des Heiden- tums, als Heroencultiis bczcichnet hat, nicht ganz frei war, belegt die Thatsache, dass er gesteht, seine eigene Heilung der Hilfe der heiligen Genovefa (Ep, Append. 504, p. 1884) zu vcrdanken.^ Rabelais aber bleibt sich unwandelbar conse- quent. Obgleich er sich wohl in der Serie seiner Kalender, die sich mit Unterbrechiingen von 1 §33-1 550 erstreckt,^ scherz- wei«e einen Prophet en nannte, so protestirt er doch ausdriick- lich gegen jeden Aberglaiil)cn,* so in dem Kalender von 1535 : " PrWire seroit I6g6ret6 a moi, comme & vous simplesse d'y ajouter foi. YA n'est encore, depuis la cr^tion d'Adam, ne homme qui en ait traite ou bailie chose k quoi Ton ddt acquiescer et arr^ter en assurance."

Uni nunmehr die allgemeine VergleicJiung zwischen Eras- mus und Rabelais abziischliessen, sei hier noch das vollstandige, positive Glaubensbekenntnis, das Erasmus in der Inquiaitio de Fide ablegt, kurz mitgethcilt. In den Grundformen der Religion weicht er seiner Uberzeugung nach von der Recht- gliiubigkeit nicht ab, aber auf die Fmge : " Cre<lis in sanctam ecclesiam?" antwortet er fest : "Non" und begriindet diese Antwort : *' Sic me docuit divus Cyprianus : in solum Deum esse credendum, in (|Uo simpliciter omnem fiduciam reponimus.

* Nisard, Areume ; " . . . car il a son grain de superstition, lui-aussi, quoi- qu* il 86 moque dee franciscainsy lesquels disent au peuple que les moucherons qui voltigent sur le corps du franciscain qu^on mdne en terre sont des d^ons qui n'osent pas se poser sur la face b^nie du defunt. D^j^ dans la maladie qu*il fit jl Paris par Teflet des oeufs pourris et des chambres malsaines de Montaigu, n'avait-il pas attribu(^ & Tintercession de Ste.-Genevi^ve son re- tour ^ la sant^ ? "

• Birch-H. I, 246. Anm. ff.

*Rath4ry, Notice^ 26. Anm 1: "Je vous envoye un livre de prognostics, duquel toute cette ville est embesoign^ . . . Demapartjen'yadjtmatefoy aukune,**

RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 31

Eoclesia vero proprie dicta, quamquam non constat nisi ex bonis/ tamen ex hominibua constat, qui ex bonis poaaunt fieri mali, qui falli possunt etfallerej' Damit ist der Autoritatsglauben an die Kirche,deren Berecbtigung, neueSatzungen aufzustellen, fiir Erasmus aufgeboben : der Conflict mit dem katholiscben Clerus, der gerade dieses Recht fur sich in Anspruch nimmt, g^eben. Granz analog hat auch Rabelais gedacht, wenn er auch seiner Stellung nach sich nicht so frei und oflen gegen die Unfehlbarkeit der Kirche als solchen aussprechen konnte. Aber wo sich die Grelegenheit dazu bietet, verweist er auf Gott allein : " . . . il te convient servir, aimer et craindre Dieu, et en luy mettre toutes tes peiisees et tout ton espoir ; et, par foy formee de charity, estre k lui adjoinct, en sorte que jamais n'en sois desempar§ par peche !" {OeuvreSy II, 8). Gott und Menschenliebe sind die Pfeiler der Religion, die er empfiehlt,' gegen die meisten kirchlichen d. h. menschlichen Einrichtungen und Formen in Glaubenssachen baumt sich seine Natur gerade so wie die des anderen Humanisten in zersetzender Satire auf.

PoLiTiscHE Satire.

Fursten und Grouse,

Interessant und wertvoU ist eine Wiirdigung der von beiden Wahlver wand ten in Ernst und Spott ausgesprochenen Mei- nungen uber das Herrschertum, Fursten und Grosse. In seiner Jugend hatte Erasmus eine gute Meinung von den Herrschem der Welt, aber seine Enttauschungen durch Hein- rich VIII von England und die Fursten, mit deuen er sonst in Beziehung gestanden, iinderten seine Gresinnungen — ich mochte fast sagen — zu demokratischer Herbheit, wahrend Ra- belais bei dem Schutz, den er gerade bei Franz I und Heinrich II fand, in seiner Satire sehr vorsichtig ist und meist eben

' Eine captatio benevolentiae, die bei seinem Hasse gegen die Monche and Theologen ihm wohl schwerlich von Herzen kam. • Biroh-H. I, 287 Anm.

32 H. SCHOENFELD.

nur Carricaturen von Furaten wie Pierochole, Anarche zum Gegenstand seiner Satire wahlt. — Nicht lange dauerte die gute Meinung, die Erasmus in einem Jugendgedicht an den nach- maligen Heinrich VIII, den er als Prinzen durch den ge- lehrten, gemiitvollen, characterfesten Thomas Morus kennen gelernt hatte, aussprach, wo er das Lob Englands and seines Konigs sang, der " patriotischer als die Dacier, gotteslnrch- tiger als Numa, beredter als Nestor, diplomatischer als Casar, freigebiger als Macenas und nur mit etwas sparsam sei, nam- lieh mit dem Blute seiner Unterthanen." Aber schon in den Adagiay begegnet man den radicalsten Ausfallen gegendas Fiirstentum ; ^ alle paar hundert Jahre habe es hocbstens einen order den anderen Fiirsten gegeben, der nicht durch ganz hervorragende Torheit der Welt verderblich geworden ware ; jeder Beruf miisse erlernt werden, aber den schwersten und wichtigsten vertrane man dem Zufall fiirstlicher Geburt an, und es genuge schon, wenn der Prinz iiberhaupt nur einem Menschen ahnlich sehe. Den Konigen,.die er in der Regel fiir Narren, deren Finanzpolitik er fiir Kaub und Erpressung erklart, stellt er die stiidtische Cultur, die trefflichen Gesetze und die Friedensliebe der Democratic gegeniiber.* Die Haupt- stelle fiir seine tJberzeugungen hinsichtlich der Fursten ist

^ Darmesteter et Hatzfeld, LitU Frang, au XVIaileU, p. 24. : Erasme lan^ait auz rob des traits d'une mordante ironie. Quoi de plus violent que I'Adage de rEscarbot et de TAigle {Adagesy Chiliade III, oenturie 7; coll. 709 de Tuition in folio, de Paris 1589) dans lequel Tauteur compare les souverains k Taigle, le premier des oiseauz de proie 7 Ces jeux rapaces et m^chants (de Paigle), ce rictus mena^ant, ces joues horribles, oe front farouche, n'est-ce pas I'image d'un roi plein de magnificence et de majesty ... A ce cri d'aigle la foule entidre tremble, le s^nat s'efiaoe, la noblesse rampe, la jus- tice s'assouplit, les thtologiens se taisent, les l^istes approuvent, les lois cddent, les constitutions ploient ; droit, religion, justice, humanity sont des mots sans valeur.

* Bezold, GescA. der deut. Ref, p. 233. — Soweit ist der seinem Konige loyale Rabelais nie gegangen, wenn auch Hallam's Bemerkung : " Nowhere does Rab. satirize the institution of royalty, or the profession of healing, the two things in the world for which he seems to have had a real respect,'' wenig- Btens in ihrem ersten Teil unrichtig ist, wie bald erscheinen wild.

RABELAIS AND ERASMUS. 33

wohl jener Abschnitt im E, M, Die Narrheit spricht : " Schon lange habe ich vor, euch etwas von den Fiirsten und Grossen am Hofe zu sagen, die mich ohne Falsch und Verstellung mit der ganzen Offenheit, die ihrem Range zukommt, verehren. Wenn sie auch nur eine halbe Unze Weisheit besasen^ gabe es dann etwas Traurigeres, etwas Verabscheuungswiirdigeres als ihren Stand ? Gewiss wird niemand mehr durch Meineid und Menchelmord nach der Krone streben wollen, der aufmerksam uber die ungeheure Last nachgedacbt hat^ die auf den Schul- tern eines guten Landesherm ruht." Nun kommt die treff- liche Aufzahlung der Pflichten eines Konigs, Pflichten die Rabelais {OufyreSy III, 1) in seinem kraftigen Lapidarstil in der Person seines edlen K5nigs Pantagruel als verwirklicht darstellt : "... la maniere d'entretenir et retenir pays nou- yellement conquest es ^ n^est les peuples pillant, for^ant, anga- riant, ruinant, mal vexant et regissant avec verges de fer; brief, les peuples mangeant et devorant . . . Comme enfant nouvellement n6, les faut alaieter, bercer, esjouir. Comme arbre nouvellement plantee, les fault appuyer, asseurer, de- fendre 'de toutes vim&res, injures et calamites . . . De sorte qu'ilz con5oivent en soy oeste opinion n'estre on monde roy ne prince, que moins voulsissent ennemy, plus optassent amy. . . . Et plus en heur ne peut le conquerant regner, soit roy, soit prince, ou philosophe que faisant justice a vertus sucoeder . . . sa justice apparoistra en ce que, par la volunte et bonne affec-

^ Erasmos billigt Eroberongskriege unter keinen Umstanden ; kaum dass er den Glaubens- und Verteidigungskrieg gegen den Tiirken zolasBen will. Rabelais weist ungerecbte Kriege zomig zuriick: *'Le temps n'est plus ^ainsi conquester les royaumes, avec dommages de son prochain frere christian : oeste imitation des anciens Hercules, Alexandres, ... est con- traiie ^ la profession de TEvangile, par lequel nous est command^ garder, sanyer, regir, et administrer chascun ses pays et terres, non hottiiement envaMr ks autres. Et ce que Sarrasins et barbares jadis appelloient prouesses, main- tenant nous appellons briganderies et meschancet^.'' Dennoch ist die Be- bandlung des kriegsgefangenen Konigs Picrochole, dank dem guten Konig Gaigantua, ganz yerschieden von der des Anarche, bei dem der Lump Panurg das Verfugungsrecht hat.

3

34 H. SCHOENFELD.

tion du peiiple, donnera loix, publiera edicts, establira religions, fera droit Sl un chascun." ... So auch Erasmus {E, M.) : '' Haiiget ihm die goldene Halskette um, ein Schmnck, der die feste VerbinduDg sammtlicher Tugenden anzeigt, setzt ihm die Krone aufs Haupt, die ihn daran mahnen soil, dass er an Heldensinn Alle weit iibertreflfen miisse, gebt ihm das Scepter in die Hand, das Sinnbild der Gcrechtigkeit und eines v5llig unbestechlichen Herzens, bekleidet ihn schliesslich mit dem Purpurmantel, diesem Symbol der gliihenden Liebe zu Staat und Burgerschafl, und das Bild ist fertig !

Wenn aber der Fiirst diesen koniglichen Schmuck mit seinem wirklichen Lebenswandel vergliche, scheint euch da noch zwei- felhafl, dass er iiber seinen Aufputz Scham empfinden und furchten wiirde, es mochte irgend ein Spassvogel die an sich sehr ernsten Insignien verlachen imd verspotten ? " Und dieser Sjiassvogel ist wirklich in Rabelais erschienen, der den ver- meintlichen Heroismus und die Landergier des Picrochole und seiner Berater in einer herrlichen Satire {OeuweSy I, 33) ver- spottete, den K5nig Anarcbe in Erinnerung an die Konige in der Unterwelt (II, 30) * zum crieur de saulce verte machte, mit einem alten Hockerweib (vieille lanterni^re) verheiratete und ihn von derselben durchprugein liess.' Doch gait er ihm in diesem Zustande noch in hoherenx Grade als Ehrenmann, denn in seiner Eigenschafl als Konig.^

In der ^lxOvoif>ayia halt Erasmus seinem Kaiser Karl V einen echten Fiirstenspiegel vor : * Die fingirte Rede, die er an Karls Stelle an den gefangenen Konig Franz halten wurde, ist ein Muster edler Gesinnung und Friedensliebe. Und was

* " . . . oomment estoient traict^ les rois et richeB de oe monde par lea Champs Elys^esi et oomment ill gaignoient poor Ion lear vie ^ yils et salles mestieiB." 11, 81.

' *' sa femme le bat oomme piastre, et le paa vre sot ne se ose defendre, tant il est niays.''

' *' ces diables de rois ici ne sont que yeaolx, et ne savent nj ne valent rien, sinon i hire des maolx es paavres sobjects, et i troubler tout le monde par guerre, pour leur inique et detestable plaisir/'

*^ Venim si quis me fisciat Gaesarem, scio quid sim £uluzus."

RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 35

ware der Erfolg einer solchen Handlungsweise ! "Quam magnificam, quamque plausibilem gloriam haec humanitas per universum orbem pararet Carolo? Quae natio se non lubens tam humano, tamque dementi principi submitteret ? " Ganz dieselben herrlichen Priucipien eines Kdnigs lasst Rabelais den Grandgousier in dem Briefe an seinen Sohn (I, 29) aus- sprechen, mogen dieselben an die Adresse des Konigs Franz I gerichtet sein oder nicht : " Ma deliberation n'est de provoquer, ains d'apaiser; d'assaillir, mais de defendre; de conquester, mais de garder mes feaux subjects et terres hereditaires. Es- quelles est hostilement entr6 Picrochole, sans cause ny occasion, et de jour en jour poursuit sa furieuse entreprise/' . . . nach- dem er schon I, 28 die Riistung als erzwungen hingestellt und erst alle Mittel des Friedens versucht hat, um seine geliebten Unterthanen, die ihn nahren und unterhalten, zu schonen : ^* pour secourir et garautir mes pauvres subjects. Car de leur labeur je suis entretenu, et de leur sueur je suis nourry, moy, mes enfans et ma famille. Ce non obstant, je n'entreprendray guerre que je n'aye essaye tons les arts et moyens de paix ; Ik je me - resouls " [contrar entgegengesetzt dem beriichtigten "car tel est notre bon plaisir."]. Von dem Schlage des guten Grandgousier, Gargantua, Pantagruel miissen die Konige sein, von denen das Wort der Pilger in I, 45 gilt : "O que heureux est le pays qui a pour seigneur un tel homme." " C'est, dist Grargantna, ce que dit Platon, que lors les republiques seroient heureuses, quand les roys philosopheroient, ou les philosophes regneroient."

" Quidquid delirant r^es, plectuntur Achivi." Diese ho- razische Idee ist auch die des Erasmus. Im Charon^ einem Colloquium, das dieser schrieb, als der Krieg Karls V im Bunde mit Heinrich VIII g^en Franz I am wildesten wiitete, zeigt er die Schrecken des Krieges fur die Volker : " Furiae non minus gnaviter quam feliciter gesserunt suum negotium; nuUam orbis partem non infecerunt malis tartareis, dissidiis, bellis, latrociniis, pestilentiis, adeo ut plane iam calvae emissis colnbris sint, . . • Mox ventura est tanta nmbrarum

*

36 H. 8CH0ENFELD.

maltitadOyUt verear ne non sufficias omnibus transmittendis . . • Tres orbis monarchas capitalibus odiis in mutuum exitium ruere^ nee ullam orbis Christiani partem immunem esse a belli funis; nam tres illi reliquos omnes pertrahunt in belli consor- tium. Omnes esse talibus animis, ut nemo velit alteri cedere . . . moliri dira; pestilentiam ubique saevire. Ad haec novam esse luem ex opinionum varietate natam, quae sic vitiavit animos^ ut . . . frater fratri diflBdat, nee uxori cum marito conveniat." Und die PfaflFen schiiren nur noch den Brand, weil die Toten grosseren Vorteil bringen, als die Lebenden. ("sunt testa- menta, parentalia, bullae, multaque alia non aspernanda lucra" . . . "Bellum multos gignit episcopos, qui in pace ne teruncii quidem fiebant.") Dazu kommt der Aufruhr und die Klagen der Volker ; " Murmurant et civitates taedio malorum : conferunt susurros populi nescio qui, dictitantes iniquum ut ob privatas iras aut ambitionem duorum triumve res humanae sursum deorsum misceantur: sed vincent, mihi crede, quamlibet recta consilia Furiae."* Die graphische Schilderung der politischen und kirchlicben Lage geht mit Karl und Ferdinand streng zu Grericht; bespricht ironisch Franz' I Gefangenschaft,^ tadelt Karls Expansionsgeliiste, [" Carolus molitur monarchiae proferre pomoeria "] : beklagt den Bankrott der Hofe und der Volker [" bulimia pecuniarum urget aulas omnes],^ die BauernauFstande und die Anarchic, den Zerfallder Kirche [*' periculosos motus concitant agricolae,

^ cf. iSmadi/tM : '' Videmus, monarchaa tot iam annis nihil aliud quam bel- ligerari ; inter theolo^^ saoerdotes, episcopos et popcdum nihil oonvenire ; quot homines, tot sententiae ; et in his ipsis plus quam muliebris inconstantia/

' " Franoiscus hospes est Hispanianmi, nescio quam ex ipsius animi sen- tentia, vir certe dignus meliore fortuna." Franz' Behandlung durch Karl V findet £r. ebenso unwiirdig wie Rab. : ''Au cas que les autres roys et em- pereurs, voire qui se font nommer catholicques [mit augenscheinlicher An- spielong auf Karl V, v. Anm. 4 bei Bath^ry], I'eussent miserablement traictd, durement empriBonn^, et ran9onn^ extremement, . . .

' Diesen Fehler fasst Rab. eben weniger tragisch auf: " Villain, disons nous, paroe que un noble prince n'a jamais un sou." '' Thesaurier est fait de vilain ; " of. auch Erasm. 'Iinrcirf Juntos \ "Inuno nulla est oommodior via, quam debere quam plurimis," und spater : '* NuUi magis obaerati quam prindpes.''

RABEIiAIS mn> ERASMUS. 37

nec tot stragibus ab instituto deterrentur : populus meditatur anarchiam : periculosis factionibus collabitur ecclesiae domus : hinc atque hinc distrahitur ilia Jesu tunica inconsutilis."] ^ 1st es da ein Wunder, dass Erasmus zu der stupenden re- publikanischen Auffassung gelangt: "Fortasse primum fuerit, leonem in civitatem non recipere : proximum, sic auctoritate eenatus, magistratuum, ac civium moderari potentiam illius, ut non facile erumpat in tyrannidem (also constitutionelle Monarchic das nachstbeste). Sed omnium potissimum, dum adhuc puer est, et se principem esse nescit, Sanctis praeceptis formare pectus illius." (Chnvivium Religiosum), Das letzere ist das Mittel, das Rabelais gewahlt hat, um treffliche Fiirsten zu erziehen. Fur ihn ist das Konigtum der einzige Schutz gegen Ubergriffe von innen und von aussen, Hiiter der Moral,* Verteidiger des rechten Glaubens.*

Unvergleichlich ist auch bei beiden Autoren die Satire auf den Adel und solche, die sich ihrer hohen Geburt ruhraen, wahrend sie sich an Gaben des Herzens und Geistes gar nicht von der Hefe des Volkes unterscheiden ; aber auch darin tritt die Satire bei Erasmus starker hervor, der durch seinen Streit mit dem Ritter Hutten, durch die schlechte Behandlung seitens der hohen Herren, die ihn wohl eine Zeitlang liberal unter- stiitzen, dann aber fallen liessen, vergassen, ihn so oft zu jenen beschamenden, demiitigenden Lobesepisteln zwangen, wahrend Rabelais bei den Grossen weltlichen und geistlichen Standes Schutz fand gegen die Ketzerankl^en der Sorbonne, des Parla- ments, der Geistlichkeit.

Zu den Toren rechnet also Erasmus diejenigen, welche glauben aus besonderem Holz geschnitzt zu sein : "Hand

• •

^ Uber die Verwildening der Soldateska siehe MiUtU confemo and MUe$ H Oarthusianus,

' Z. B. gegen die Hazardspiele : ** Vous savez comment Gargantua, mon p^re, par tons ses royaumes Ta defendu, brusl^ avec les moules et protraicts, et du tout extermin^ supprim^ et abolj, comme peete tres dangereuse/' m, 11.

' ** Par toutes oontr^ . . . je feray prescher ton saint ^vangile porement, ^implement) et entidrement.'' II, 29.

38 H. SCHOENFELD.

possum istos silentio praetercurrere, qui quum nihil ab iiifimo cerdone differant, tamen inani nobijitatis titulo mirum quam sibi blandiuDtur ; alius ad Aeneam^ alius ad Brutum, alius ad Arcturum genus suum refert : ostendunt undique sculptas et pictas maiorum imagines : numerant proavos atque atavos^ et antiqua cognomina commemorant, quum ipsi non multum absint a muta statua . . . et tamen hao tam suavi philautia felicem prorsus vitam agunt, neque desunt aeque stulti/ qui hoc belluarum genus, perinde ut deos, suspiciunt."

In derselben Weise, aber ungemein witziger, behandelt Rabe- lais den Ahnenstolz in den Stammbiiumen des Grargantua und Pantagruel mit analogen Bemerkungen iiber adlige und ple- beische Geburt : " Pleust a Dieu qu'un chascun scent aussi cer- tainement sa genealogie, depuis Parche de Noe jusques a cest aage. Je pense que plusieurs sont aujourd'hui empereurs, rois, dues, princes, et papes, en la terre, lesquelz sont descenduz de quelques porteurs de rogatons et de costrets. Com me, au re- bours, plusieurs sont gueux de Phostiaire, souflfVeteux et miser- ables, lesquelz sont descenduz de sang et ligne de grands rois et empereurs/' ... Ja Rabelais selbst vermeint im Scherz von sehr hohen Herren abzustammen wegen seiner noblen Passionen : " Et, pour vous donner a entendre de moy, qui parle, je cuide que sois descendu de quelque riche roy, ou prince, au temps jadis. Car onques ne vistes homme qui eust plus grande affection d'estre roy et riche que moy : afin de faire grand chSre, pas ne travailler, point ne me soucier, et bien enrichir mes amis, et tons gens de bien et de savoir." — Am widerwar- tigsten von alien noblen Passionen der Grossen ist dem zartge- sinnten Erasmus das Jagdvergniigen mit seinem verrohenden Einfluss : '^Ad hmic ordinem (i. e. stultorum) pertinent et isti, qui prae venatu ferarum omnia contemnunt, atque incredibilem animi voluptatem percipere se praedicant, quoties foedum ilium

^ Der Respect der Deutschen vor dem Adel wird in Diversoria lacher- lich gemacht : " Solos enim nobiles suae gentis habent pro hominibos, et homm insignia nusquam non ostentant ; " eine Persifflage auf die alte Idee : " der Mensch fangt erst beim Baron an.''

RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 39

comuum cantam audierint, quoties, canum eiulatus. . . . De- inde quae suavitas, quoties fera lauienda est ! Tauros et verveces humili plebi laniare lioet, feram nisi a generoso secari nefas. . . . Ponro cui contigerit, e bellua nonnihil gustare, is vero existimat sibi non paruin nobilitatis accedere. Itaque quum isti assidua ferarum insectatione atque esu nihil aliud assequantur, nisi ut ipgi propemodum in feras degenerenty tamen interea regiam vitam agere se putant/' * In die schwarzesten Farben ist aber sein Griffel getaucht bei der bitter satirischen Beschreibung des infolge von Unsittlichkeit rait einer ekelhaften Krankheit behafleten Rittere und seiner Heirat im "Ayafio^ Td/io^ und im 'I7r7r6u9 aviinro^} Hier wird spottisch die raubritterliche Maxime ausgesprochen : " lam illud equestre dogma semper erit tuendum^ Jus fasque esse equiti, plebeium viatorem ex- onerare pecunia. Quid enim indignius^ quam ignobilem ne- gotiatorem abundare, nummis^ quum interim eques non habeat, quod impendat scortis et aleae ? " Welch* beissende, geistreiche Satire! Ferner giebt Nestorius dem Harpalus Ratschlage, wie er sich benehmen muss^ um als Ritter zu gelten : ^ " Ni sis bonus aleator, probus chartarius^ scortator improbus, potator strenuus^ profusor audax, deooctor et conflator aeris alieni, deinde scabie ornatus Grallica, vix quisquara te credet equitem ;'' spater : " Postremo, quum inundaverit aeris alieni magnitudo^ fictis caussis alio demigra, atque inde rursus alio." ^ Kurz^ Erasmus giebt hier ein plastisehes Bild eines verlumpten^ heruntergekommenen Ritters, das nur dadurch Einbusse erlei- det, dass es auf den trefflichen Hutten gemuuzt ist. Die Satire auf Wappen, Embltoe und Farben ist bei Erasmus in

^ Die Quelle habe ich in Brant, N8. Absch. LXXIV, zu erweisen yersuchti cf. Mod, Lang, Notes, June 1892, pp. 345-347.

'cf. StrauflB, Ulrieh von HvUen.

' Fast mit denselben Worten characterisirt Erasm. den Bitter in De Be- 6iM oc Vooabulis : " Si nihil bonae rei gerat, si splendide yestiatur, si inoedat annulatus, si gnaviter scortetur, si aleam ludat assidue, si certet chartis, si oompotationibus aetatem absumat, si nihil loquatur plebeium, sed aroes, pugnas, ac bella mera crepet" . . .

^Deutlicbe Auspielungen auf seinen Feind, den edlen Ulrieh yon Hutten u. deasen Wandertrieb.

40 H. 6CH0ENFELD.

demselben Colloquiam ('iTTTreu? Ai/^tttto?) ebenso witzig be- handelt, wie bei Rabelais^ (I, 9 u. 10). Nestorius empfiehlt dem Harpalus als Wappen drei goldene Gansekopfe in rotem Felde, denn er wird, weiin er auch nicht im Kriege gewesen, dem Bauern etliche Ganse gekopft haben, und auf dem Helm einen schwarzen Hundskopf, und dabei mag er sich einen Harpalus, G^uch von Gauchberg-Goldenfels, nennen (" Ergo sis Harpalus eques ab aurea rupe "). Die Symbolik der Farben verspottet Rabelais doch gewiss in der Erklarung, weshalb der Lowe, der doch mit seinem blossen GebriillalleTiereerschreckt, sich einzig und allein vor dem weissen Hahn furchtet (I, 10), und weshalb die Franzosen ' gem weisse Federn auf ihren Hiiten tragen.

Die Pahste,

Uber die historischeu Beziehungen des Erasmus zu den Pab- sten seiner Zeit hat Karl Hartfelder eine eingehende Studie geliefert.^ Es eriibrigt sich somit, eine eingehende Wieder- holung des G^enstandes, und es kommt nur darauf an, die Sin- nesart des grossen Humanisten mit der des Rabelais hinsichtlich des Pabsttums zu vergleichen. Wie bereits angedeutet, sind beide Manner in ihren Conflicten mit ihrem geistlichen Stande und ihren geistlichen Behorden von den Pabsten ihrer Zisit geradezu gerettet word en. Das begriindet denn auch natiirlich das demutige, achtungsvolle Entgegenkommen der Suppli- canten in ihren Bittgesuchen, und Erasmus hat besonders Leo II (1513-1621) Huldigungen, ja sogar Schmeicheleien entge-

^Schon I, 8 erwahnt Bab. den Ring als Embl^me des Adels: "Pour see anneauz (lesquelz voulut son pere qu'il portast pour renouveller le signe antique de noblesse).'' ...

'Ceet la cause pour quoi Oali (oe sont les Fran9ois, ainsi appell^ parce

que blancs sont naturellement comme laict, que les Grecs nomment Gala)

. Yoluntiers portent plumes blanches sus leurs bonnetz. Car, par nature, ilz

sont jojeux, candides, gracieux et bien am^ ; et, pour leur sjmbole et en-

seigne, ont la fleur plus que nulle autre blanche, c'est le lys.

*Hist. ToKhenbuch v. Wilh. Maurenbrecher, VI, Folge, 11, Jahrg.

RABELAIS UKD ERASMUS. 41

gengebracht^ die das Maass des Statthafien weit uberschritten, Yfeuu er «. B. den Pabst so unendlich hoch iiber die gewohn- lichen Sterblichen stellt, wie diese iiber die Tiere, mogen auch inaDche Floskeln nur rhetorisch seiu, wie : " Utinam liceat vere beatissimis istis advolutum pedibus oscula figere."

Sonst aber hat Erasmus^ wie unzahlige Stellen in seinen Schriflen beweisen, seinem Freimut und seiner wahren Her- zensiiberzeugung in Ernst und Satire die Ziigel schiessen lassen, und kaum irgendwo ist die Analogie der Satire bei ihm und Rabelais so vollkommen, wie in der Pabstfrage und der Be- handlung der Geistliehkeit iiberhaupt. Die kleinen Historien und Anekdoten von personlichen Spassen, die sich Rabelais mit Clemens VII u. Paul III* erlaubt habeu soil, hat Rathery in seiner Notiz glucklich und eflFectiv abgethan. Aber auch er hat im Ernst,^ aber unendlich ofter in der Satire das Pabst- tum einer schneidenden Kritik unterworfen.

Zunachst wendet sich Erasmus gegen die Infallibilitat des Pabstes und die iibermassige, beinah gottliche Verehrung, die ihm das Volk angedeihen lasst : " Nam et in pontificem, ut hominem, cadit ignorantia personae factive ; " * und wieder : " Impium est, honores soli Deo debitos transferre in homines, et dum im{iense reveremur hominem, parum revereri Deum ; " und ebenso Praef. E. M. : '* Porro nonnullos adeo praepostere religiosos videas, ut vel gravissima in Christum convicia ferant citius, quam pontificem aut principem levissimo ioco aspergi ; praesertim si quid tt/oo? ra a\(f>LTa attinet/' Diesen selben Gedanken fiihrt Rabelais in ausserst witziger, drastischer Weise aus in IV, 48, wo der Eifer fur den Pabst in Raserei ausartet, der Pabst als " PUnique,'' " celuy qui est,*' * '* Dieu en terre," *

* V. Jacob, Notice, pp. 26-27, p. 38.

*v. Jacob, Notice, 38-39 und Anm. 1 : Lettres VI et XV k I'^dque de Maillezais. Panurge^s Worte enthalten eine Anspielung anf das unsittliche Leben mancher Pabste jener Zieit II, 17.

* " Ich bin, der Ich bin." Exodus, III, 14.

^ Die Erwartung der Ankunft dieses Dieu de bien en terre in dem Lande der Papimanen wird von Bab. za einem bitter satirischen Schlag gegen das

42 H. SCHOENFELD.

bezeichnet wird, und der Fiisskass Gel^nheit zu einer scherz- haften Obscoenitat bietet.

Die zerschraettemde Satire auf Pabste und Cardiniile folgt der zerscbmetternden Satire auf Fiirsten und Grosse im Lob der Na)^heit : "Ac principum quidem institutum summi pon- tifices, cardinales et episcopi iam pridem gnaviter aemulantur ac prope superant." (Und das will naeh der Darstellung des prin- cipum institutum in den grellsten Farben viel sagen !) Nach- dem er sodann ihre Pflichten dargelegt, zeigt er den Contrast ihrer Handlungsweise. Und wenn die Pabste dem Leben Cbristi nacbeiferten, wie unendlich entsagungsvoll ware dann auch das ihrige ! Wer mochte dann jene Wiirde mit alien Mitteln zu erwerben suchen, und wenn er sie erworben hat, dieselbe mit Dolch und Gift und alien moglichen Gewaltmittein zu erhalten suchen ? Aber wie sieht es jetzt aus ? Die Miihen und Beschwerden iiberlassen sie dera heiligen Peter und Paul, die geuug Musse dazu haben ; den Glauz und G^nuss aber nehmen sie fiir sich in Anspruch. In Weichlichkeit und Sorg- losigkeit bringen sie ihr Leben zu und meinen sich mit Christus reichlich abzufinden, wenn sie die Rolle eines Seelsorgers in wunderbarem, fast theatralischem Aufzuge spielen, wobei es mit den Titeln : " Gottb^nadigter,'' " Hochwiirdigster," " Allerheiligster*' und mit Segen und Fluch furwahr nicht sparsam hergehen darf. £s ist veraltet und unzeitgemass, Wander zu thun, die Belehrung des Volkes ist zu ermiidend, die Erlauterung der heiligen Schrift gilt als Schulfuchserei, Beten als zeitraubend, die Thrane der Barmherzigkeit als uied- rig und weibisch, Armut als gemein, sich riihren lassen als schmahlich und unwiirdig eines Mannes, der kaum den mach- tigsten K5nigen gestattet, seinen gebenedeiten Fuss zu ki'issen, sterben endlich ist widerwartig, und ans Kreuz geschlagen

Ablasswesen benuUt: "O rheureose et desir^ et tant attendue journ^ ! Et Yous heoreuz et bienheureuz qui tant avez eu les astres favorables, que aves vivement en face veu et realement oeluy bon Dieo en terre, duqoel vojant seulement le portraict, pleine reminion guaignom de Una nos pecKis memarabla : ffiaem^/e la tierce partiet avee dix huU quaranUxinee des peehia oMih I ** Cf. dabei Anm. li bei Rath^ry.

BABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 43

werden, gilt als Schmach. Es bleiben ihnen als Waffen nur jene " sussen Segenspruche/' von denen Paulus spricht, ferner das Interdikt, die Amtsentsetzung, die Drolmng mit dem Bann, die verscharfte Androhung des Bannes, die Verketzerungen, die Schreckbilder und schliesslich jener fiirchterliche Blit»- strahl^ kraft dessen sie durch einen einzigeu Wink die Seelen der Sterblichen mit so reissendem Schwunge in den Tartarus schleudern, dass sie sogar manchmal auf der andern Seite wie- der hinausfliegen . . . Landereien, Stadte, Abgaben, Zolle und Guter ' gehoren ihnen als das Erbe Petri, der doch alles ver- lassen, um Christo zu folgen. Mit Feuer und Schwert kampfen sie zur Wahrung dieses reichen Besitzes und vergiessen Strome ehristlichen Blutes, fiihren die Sache Christi mit dem Schwerte, als ware der Heiland zum Schutze und zur Verteidigung der Seinen nicht mehr da. (Sodann folgt eine Definition der Greuel des Kri^es, wie sie plastischer und graphischer wohl nie ge- geben worden ist.) Aber trotzdem der Krieg etwas so Grau- sames ist, dass er sich eher fiir wilde Tiere als fiir Menscben eignet, so lassen doch einige von den h5ehsten Priestern alles Andere ausser Acht und widmen sich einzig und allein dem Kriege.

Den Pabst JuliuB satiriBirt Eras- Analoge Satire auf AlezanderVI und

mns ausdrucklich im OoU. SeniUy wo bes. den kriegerischen Julius II : ''II

er Eusebius und Pampirus redend me semble que oe portraict (namlich

einfuhrt: "Itane religionem vena- das eines Friedenspapstes k la tiare,

^ Die Habsucht und der Geldgeiz des romischen Hofes jener 2ieit wird von Rabelius ebenfalls oft angegriffen, z. B. Ill, 42:

Koma manus rodit, quas rodere non valet, odit. Dantes custodit, non dantes spemit et odit ;

glossa canonica :

Accipe, sume, cape, sunt verba placentia papae.

Die Kauflichkeit und Bestechlichkeit wird II, 30 angedeutet, wo Babelaii^ den Historiker und Pabstefeind Jean le Maire einfuhrt, "qui oontrefaisait du pape, et k tons oes pauvres rois et papes de ce monde faisoit baiser ses pieds ; et, en faisant du grobis, leur donnoit sa benediction, disant : Graignez les pardons, ooquins, gaignez, Uz sorU d b(m marehi. Je vous absouls de pain et de soupe [blasphemische Travestie fur de peine et de coulpe]. . ."

44 H. SCHOENFELD.

b&iis in bello? quo quid esse potest k raumuase, au rochet, k la pantoufle)

soeleratius ?'' " Erat sancta militia/' fault (i. e. est fautif ) en nos derniers

"Fortaasisin Turcas?" "Imosano- papes. Car je les ay yeu non au-

tius quiddam, ut turn quidem praedi- muflsei ains armet en teste porter,

cabant" "Quidnam?" ** Julius 8e- thymbr^ d'une tiare Persicque. Et

cundus belligerabatur adversus GhU- tout Pempire estant en paix et ailenoe,

los."(l) Uber denselben Pabst aussert eux aeulz guerre /aire felonne et tr^ eru-

sich Erasmus am Schluss seiner Ein- elU.^* ** Ja, das ist sehr entschuldbar,

leitung zu einigen von ihm iibersets- meint der Papimane Homenaz, (^estoit

ten Lucian-Dialogen : '^ In praesentia eontre Us rebelies, hereticqueSy protestans

quidem in Italia mire frigent stu- desesperSSf non obeissans k la saintet^

dia, fervent bella. Summus Pontifex de ce bon Dieu enterre. Cela luy est

Julius belligeratur, vincit, triumphat, non seulement permb et licite, mais

planequeJuliumagit/' Nisard^giebt commands par les sacres Decretales,

ein treffllches Stimmungsbild des Er- et doibt k feu incontinent empereurs,

asmus, als er wenige Tage vor dem rois, dues, princes, republicques et k

Einzuge Julius' II, des Siegers der sang mettre qu' ilz transgresseront un

Bomagna, nach Bologna kam: "M6l^ iota de ses mandemens: lea spolier de

k la foule du peuple qui battait des leurs biens, les depoweder de leurs roy-

mains * au destructeur des tyrans,' il aumesy les proscrvre^ Us anaihematiserf ei

dut sourire am^rement k 1' aspect de non seulement leurs eorpsy el de leurs en-

cette papaut^ bott^ et ^peronn^, fans et parens autres oedre, mais aussi

donnant k baiser auz populations leurs atnes damner au parfond de la

stupides ses pieds blanchis par la plus ardente ehauldiere (pii soU en en-

poussidre des champs de bataille, /er." Diese bittere Satire wird durch

brandissant Y4p6e enguise des cl4s die unehrlich gemeinte Zustimmung

de St.-Pierre, et pouasant son cheyal des Heuchlers Panurge, der ja vorhin

8ur les br^ches des muraiUes renver- die Bemerkung gegen die blutgie-

9^e8 pour lui faire honneur. Jaime rigen letzten Pabste gemacht, nur

k me le repr^senter, dans la grande noch verscharft: '^Jci ne sont ilz

me de Bologne, adoss^ centre une hereticques oomme fut Raminagro-

muraille, envelopp^ dans see four- bis, et comme ilz sont parmi les Alle-

rures, la figure l^drement ironique, maignes, et Angleterre. Ihr seid die

regardant passer le cort^^ et m^- wahren, erprobten Christen ! " Als

tant ses prudentes critiques oontre la Raminagrobis die Monche wie zu-

papaut^ belliqueuse, dont ses adver- dringliche Koter' yon seinem Ster-

saires devaient faire plus tard des belager scheuchte, iibemahm Pan-

h^r^ies dignes du feu. Oette enirie urge, der nicht emst zu nehmen und

tui inspira de belles pages sur Camour ein compromittirender Anwalt isl,

de la paix, etwa wie Sganarelle im Don Juan des

Molidre, mit rechtglaubigem Pathos die Verteidigung der '^guten gebt- lichen Briider."

* Erasme, Revue des Deux Mondes, 1835, vol. 3.

RABELAIS UND EBA6MUS. 46

Wahrend aber Erasmus seine Satire direkt gegen die schlech- ten Pabste richtet, gestaltet Sabelais die seinige nooh viel wirkungsvoUer durch die iiberaus witzige und geistreiche iro- Dische Lobrede auf die Decretalen der Pabste, die er dem pabst- tollen Homenaz * in den Mund 1^ ; nebenbei fiibrt er eiden Schlag g^en den Peterpfennig * und seine Verwendung und g^n die Krafl der Decretalen, "die jedes Jahr mehr als 400,000 Dukaten aus Frankreich nach Rom Ziehen/' " Qui fait et journellement augmente en abondanoe de tons biens temporelz, corporelz, et spirituelz le fameux et celebre patri- moine de saint Pierre? Saintes Decretales. Qui fait le saint Si^e apostolique en Rome de tout temps et aujourd'hui tant redoutable en Tunivers, que tons rois, empereurs, potentats et seigneurs pendent de luy, tiennent de luy, par luy soient eouronn^, confirm6s, authorise, viennent 1^ boucquer et se prosterner k la mirificque pantoufle, de laquelle avez veu le protraiet? Belles DecretaUs de DieuJ' Und nun entbullt Homenaz ein Geheimnis : *• Ce sont les Decretales, sans les- quelles periroient les privileges de toutes Universit^s.'* ^ In demselben Kapitel legt Rabelais dem Homenaz den furcht- baren Flueh in den Mund g^en diese " mesehans heretiques Decretalifuges, Decretalicides, pires qu'homicides, pires que parricides, decretalictones (/creti/co) du diable."

Satire auf das Klosterwesen und Monehstum, den Aberglauben

wnd unbiblische Satzungen.

Ein ungeheures Feld, ein wahrer embarras de richesse bietet sich bei der Durchsicht und Priifung der Werke unserer Au- toren zum Zweck ihrer in fast alien Stiicken analogen An- schauung, Gresinnung und tTberzeugung hinsichtlich der geist-

^ Honorat, DicL de la langue cPoc, " grand et vilain homme, hommasse.'' ' ** Sortans du temple, ilz apporterent k Homenaz leura bassins tons pleins de monnoje papimanioque . . . ./' um gut zu essen und gut zu trinken, "sui- yant une mirificque gloase cach^ en un oertain ooignet de leurs saintes Decretates," IV, 51. » IV, 53. y. Anm. 7 bei Rath^ry.

46 H. 8CH0ENPELD.

lichen und kirchlichen Zustande ihrer vielbewegten Zeit. Beide sind, jeder in seiner Art, geistige Fiihrer : eine neue Weltan- schauung, ein neues Lebensideal des Humanismus und der Humanitat leuchtet aus ihren Werken hervor. " Die Kirche hatte bisher das Denken durch ihre Dienerin, die Scholastik, in Zucht und Banden gehalten, den Sinn fiir das Schone suchte sie nur aus ihren eigenen Schatzen zu nahren und erdriickte ihn lieber, als dass sie ihn aus den Literaturschatzen der klassischen Vergangenheit, die nicht ihre eigne war, bereichert hatte. Die Werke der Klassik, die wir freilich den Kloster- briidern verdanken, so weit sie sie uns eben erlialten wollten, wurden nach eincm bestimmten Zweck zugaschnitten, nach Belieben verkiirzt oder erweitert, verchristlicht und verstiim- melt. Dasselbe Dascin, welches die klassischen Biicher in den Klostern gefuhrt, lebte ihr Inhalt in den Greistern, oft genug waren sie nur ein Spiel in den Hiinden der Greistlichen der vorhumanistischcn Zeit. Die Individualitiit des einzelnen Menschen wurde unterdriickt, Jeder musste sich als Glie<l in der Kette der kirchlichen Systematik unterordnen, und erst mit dem Erbleichen der kirchlichen Sonne trat das Mondlicht des klassischen Heidentums, welches lange von ihr uberstrahlt worden, mit seiner ewigjungen Schonheit wieder hervor." In den allerersten, allergrossten Original- und Individualkriiften jener an grossen Mannem so reichen Zeit des Humanismus und der Renaissance aber, die das Erbe der klassischen Nationen antraten, das Kloeter und die geistliche Zucht verliessen, Kutte und Messgewandt von sich warfen und mit einer neuen und selbststandigen Bildunggegen die Scholastik, den klosterlichen Zwang, veraltete und verrottete Schaden des geistig siech ge- wordenen Mittelalters in die Schranken traten, gehoren die grossen Gesinnungsgenossen und Wahlverwandten Erasmus und Rabelais. Beide lehnen sich g^en die verzehrende Dicta- tnr der Kirche und der Scholastik, wie uberhaupt gegen jeden geistigen Zwang^ auf und suchen den wusten Schlackenhaufen,

^ ** Faroe que gens liberes, bien n^ bien instniicts, oonyeraans en oom- pagnies honnestes^ ont par nature an instinct et aigoillon qui tousjours les

RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 47

der vou der scholastischen Methode zusammengehauft war^ als vollig imniitz und schadlich ofane Schonung wegzuraumen. So ist auch die Methode beider zuerst negativ, bevor sie positiv sein kanD. Erst Daefadem er das alte Kloster durch seine Satire vernicfatet, kann Rabelais das Ideal eines solchen geben^ wie es sein soUte ; erst nacbdem er die schmahlicfaen, bassliehen Frucbte des scbolastiscben Unterrichts bei dem juDgen Gar- gantua dargethan, giebt er den CoDtrast als Resultat einer vernunftigen humaDistiscfaen Erziehung.

In seinem berubmten Roman Le8 MisSrables (II, 300 u. 304) spricht sich Victor Hugo iiber das Kloster- und Mdnchstum folgendermaassen aus : '* Au point de vue de I'histoire, de la raison et de la v6rit6, le monacfaisme est con- damn^. Les monast^res, quand ils aboudent chez une nation, sont des noeuds ^ la circulation, des ^tablissements encom- brants, des centres de paresse od il faut des centres de travail. Le monachisme, tel qu'il existait en Espagne et tel qu'il existe au Thibet, est pour la civilisation une sorte de phthysie. II arr^te net la vie. II d6peuple tout simplement. Claustra- tion. Castration. II a 6t6 le fl6au en Europe. Ajoutez ^ cela la violence si souvent faite cL la conscience, les vocations forc6es, la f(Sodalit6 s'appuyant au cloltre, I'alnesse .... enterrement des kmes toutes vives. . . . Superstitions, bigotismes, cago- tismes, pr^jug^, ces larves, toutes larves qu'elles sont, sont tenaoes k la vie ; elles ont des dents et des ongles dans leur fum^; et il faut les ^treindre corps k corps, et leur faire la guerre et la leur faire sans tr^ve ; car c^est une des fatality de Pbumanit6 d^^tre condamn^e k I'^ternel combat des fan- tdmes. L'ombre est difficile a prendre k la gorge et k terras- ser. Un oouvent en France, en plein midi du dix-neuvi^me

pouflse H fiiits vertueax, et retire de vice : lequel ilz nommoient honneur. loeux, quand par vile subjection et contraincte sont deprim^ et aaservis, detonment la noble affection par laquelle H vertu franchement tendoient, H deposer et enfreindre ce joug de servitude. Gar nous entreprenons tous- joniB cboses defendues et oonvoitons oe que nous est deni^." [ruimos in ve- titnm], {Oeumres, I, 57).

48 H. 8CH0ENFELD.

sidcle, est un college de faiboux faisant face au jour. Ud clot- tre en flagrant d6lit d'aso^tisme^ c^est un anacfaronisme. Com- battons ! "

Diese modernisirte Aufiassung des Kloster- und Monchs- wesens findet sicb Punkt fiir Punkt bei unseren Autoren, und auch den Schlachtruf haben beide Manner vor mehr als drei und ein halb Jahrfaunderten in einer Weise befolgt, die sie gar oil an den stets brennenden Scheiterbaufen streifen liess. Die tragische Beschreibung des Klosterlebens findet sich oil genug bei Erasmus ebenso tragisch, oft aber auch bitter sati- risch und rait hohnischcr Ironie behandelt, man begreift wobl aus den Schilderungen des letzteren imd den eigenen Kloster- erlebnissen des Rabelais, wie derselbe zu seiner Idee eines Klosters gekommen ist, wie er sie am £nde seines ersten Bucfaes ausgef^hrt hat. Man kann hier Zug fur Zug die Schrecken des Klosterlebens und die Mittel fur die Abhilfe all der Ubel bei Rabelais in seinem Idealbilde eines Klosters verfolgen. DieWege und Methoden der drei genialen Manner sind verschieden, der Geist ist derselbe. Erasmus malt, wie Hugo, mit den dunkleu Farben der traurigen Wahrheit, der letztere malt den Contrast, das Widerspiel des Klosterlebens seiner Zeit— ein fideles Grefangnis — mit feinem Humor und Lachen. Aber der Schrecken vor dem Schmaehten im Kloster und der Widerwillen gegen die alten Erinnerungen malen sich sattsam aus den Darstellungen ex contrario.

Erasmus wendet sich gleichermaassen gegen den Schmutz mancher Kl5ster nnd besonders Klosterschulen wie g^en den verschwenderischen unkirchlichen Luxus anderer. Erasmus identificirt sich wohl mit Salsamentarius in der ^lxOvo<f>ayia, wenn er denselben sagen lasst : '^Ante annos triginta vixi Lu- tetiae in collegio,cui cognomen abaceto [coll^um Montis acuti, Montaigu]. Ego taraen (quaraquam parietes ipsi mentem ha- bent theologicam) praeter corpus pessimis infectum humoribus et pediculorum largissimam copiam nihil illinc extuli.'' Dies, die Harteder Klosterregeln und die urteilslose Behandlung und perverse Erziehung konnte oder musste wohl Resultate zeitigen.

RABELAIS X7ND ERASMUS. 49

wie er sie weiter angiebt : ^' In eo collegio turn regnabat Joannes Standoneus, vir in quo non damnasses affectum, sed indicium omnino desiderasses. . . Quod rem aggressus est cubitu tam duro, victu tam aspero parcoque, vigiliis ac laboribus tam gravi- bus, ut intra annum prima experientia multos iuvenes, felici indole praeditos, ac spem amplissimam prae se ferentes, alios neci dederit, alios caecitati, alios denientiae, nonnullos et leprae, . . . Nee his contentus addidit pallium et cucullam, ademit in totum esum camium. . . Ceterum in morbos, in delirationem, in mor- tem his rebus impellere fratrem crudelitas est, parricidium est, etc etc." * Und solche Kloster finde man iiberall in Hiille und Fulle : " Mihi vix contigit ullum ingredi monasterium Car- thusianorum, quin illic offenderim unum atque alterum aut simpliciter mente captum, aut delirantem."

G^en ebendasselbe Kloster Montaigu hat Rabelais seine Philippika (I, 37) gerichtet : " Dea, mon bon filz, sagt Grand- gousier zu seinem Sohn, nous as tu apport^ jusques ici des esparviers de Montagu?' Je n'entendois que 1^ tu fisses residence." Dagegen verwahrt sich Ponocrates emphatisch': "Seigneur, ue pensez pas que je Taye mis au col liege de pou- illerie qu'on nomme Montagu : mieulx I'eusse voulu mettre entre les guenaux de Saint Innocent, pour I'^norme cruault6 et villenie que j'y ay cogneu. . . . Et, si j'estois roy de Paris, le diable m'emport si je ne mettois le feu dedans, et faisois brusler et principal et regens, qui endurent ceste inhumanity devant leurs yeulx estre exerc^e." Auch sonst greift er die Kloster bitter an : " . . . Ton les [i. e. les moines] rejette en leur retraicts; ce sont leurs convents et abbayes, s^par^s de conversation politicque, com me sont les retraicts d'une mai- son." (1,40.)

Mit derselben Scharfe jedoch, mit der Erasmus die "Lause- schule" und andere Institute der Art angreift, wendet er sich wider den unkirchlichen Luxus, der an mancben Kl5stern

^Cf. Birch-H. I, 232-233 (Anm.). • V. Anm. 5 bei Rath^ry.

4

50 H. SGHOENFKLD.

gang und gabe war/ wahrend ringsumher das Land verarmte : "Unde mihi videntur vix excusari posse a peocato capital!, qui sumptibus immodicis aut exstruunt aut ornant monasteria seu templa, quum interim tot viva Christi templa fame pericli- tentur, nuditate horreant, rerumque necessariarum inopia dis- crucientur. Quum essem apud Britannos, vidi tumbam divi Thomae gemmis innumeris summique pretii onustam, praeter alia miracula divitiarum. Ego malim ista, quae superflua sunt, elargiri in usus pauperum, quam servare satrapis ali- quando semel omnia disi*epturis ; ac tumbam ornare froudi> bus ac flosculis : id opinor gratius esset illi sanctissimo viro. . . . Quorsum autem attinebat tantum pecuniarum efFundere, ut pauci monachi solitarii canerent in teraplo marmoreo?*'. . . ( Oonvivium Rdigiosum) ; und fast analog ist dereel be Gedanke in Pei'egrinatio Religionis ergo ausge<lruckt : " Mihi nonnunquam serio venit in mentem, quo colore possint excusari a crimine, qui tantum opum insumunt templis exstruondis, ornandis, locupletandis, ut nullus omnino sit mixlus. Fateor, in sacris vestibus, in vasis templi, deberi cultui sollemni suam dignita- tem : volo et structuram habere maiestateni suam. Sed quor- sum attinent tot baptisteria, tot candelabra, tot statuae aureae? .... quorsum ille musicus hinnitus, magno censu condiicen- dus, quum interim fratres et sorores nostrae vivaque Christi

* " Quid igitur dioemus de tot monasteriis Conventualium, qui {)ecunia8 habent) qui potant, ludunt aleam, scortantur, et palam alunt domi concu- binas, ne plura commeniorem " {Exequme Seraphicae), — Luxus und Habsucht sind Zwillingslaster, das letztere war notwendig, um dem ersteren zu fr()h- nen. Amterschleicberei und Bcstechung waren an der Tagesordnung : " Redis igitur nobis onustus sacerdotiis ? '' " Venatus equidem sum sedulo : at panim favit Delia. Nam complures illic piscantur hamo, quod dici solet, aureo" (Coll. de CkiptandU Sacerdoliis) ; und iihnlicb im Cofl. Senile mit Bcharfer Satire: "Nihil religiosius(I) ordinibus Mendicantium ; et tamen nihil similius negotiationi. Volitant per omnes terras ac maria, multa yiilent, multa audiunt : penetrant omnes domos plebeionim, nobilium, atque regfum. At non cauponantur. Saepe nobis felidusl" Im Oonvivium Reli- gio9um sagt Timotheus : " Ich meine die Geistlichen und Monche, welche am des Gewinnes willen im dichtesten Gedriinge der Stadte weilen wollen, indem dort der Gewinn zu finden sei, wo das Volk sei."

RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 51

templa siti fameque contabescaut?"^ Hier stefat scfaeinbar Rabelais in direktem G^ensatze zu seinem Meister, denn sein Idealkloster Thelema ist ja ein architektoniecher Pracbtbau, ausgestattet mit alien Werken der Bildhauerkunst und Malerei.* Aber sein Kloster ist ja kein Kloster im gewohnlichen Sinne mehr, sondem ein Musensitz, " ein Menscbheitsideal, das er- reicfat wird in der freien Ausiibung eines durch gute Erzieh- ung geregelten Willens," ein humanistisches Pfaantasiegebilde aus der Renaissance.

Hat indes Rabelais durch die Thatsache selbst, dass er von seiner fruhesten Jugend an sich den Klosterregeln nicbt anpas- sen konnte,* sondern stets rait ihnen in Conflict geriet, von welchem Orden sie auch immer ausgingen, dass er das Klos- terlebeu mit seinen vielen Lastern und Nachteilen fur die Erziehung und Bildung unzahlige Male angriff und verspot- tete, den indirecten Beweis gegen den Eintritt in das Kloster erbracht, so ist Erasmus direct und positiv dagegen aufgetreten. In seiner Verteidigungssch rift De (JoUoquiorum Utilltate sagt er deutlich mit Beziehung auf den unvernunftigen Einfluss, der geubt wurde, um Unmundige, die den Schritt noch nicht ermes- sen konnten, zu veranlassen, das Klosterkleid anzunehmen : ". . . detestor eOvS, qui adolescentes aut puellas invitis parenti- bus pelliciunt in raonasterium, abutentes illorum vel simplici- tate vel superstitione ; i^ersuadentes eis non esse spem salutis extra monasteria. Nisi talibus piscatoribus plenus esset mun- dus : nisi innumera felicissima ingenia per istos infelicissirae sepelirentur ac defoderentur viva, quae fuissent electa vasa

*In gleichem Sinne predigt der ehemalige Franciscanermonch Johann Eberlin von Gunzburg, ein starker Anhanger Luthers, gegen den Luxus der Kirchen, wahrend das I.And daran verarme. Janssen, Qexeh. dts deut- schen VolkeSf vol. II, 184.

•Birch-H. I, 272-273 u. Anm.

'II avail commence par 6tre moine et moine *'C!ordelier. Le s^rieux et I'^l^vation de see goiits, la liberty natnrelle et g^n^reuse de see inclinations le rendirent bient6t un objet d^plac^ dans un convent de oet Ordre, en oet Age de decadence. II en sortit, essaya d'un autre Ordre moins m^priaable, de oeloi des B^n^dictins, mais ne put s'en aocomoder davantage.'' Sainte- Benve, Ocaaeriea du Lundi.

62 H. 8CH0ENFELD.

dominiy si iudicio sumpsissent iDStitutum naturae congrueDS.'^ Im CbU, MilUis et Oarthusiani sagt der Soldat zu dem Kar- thauser : '' War denn kein Arzt da^ den du dein Hirn hattest prufen lassen konnen, bevor du dich kopfuber in eine solche Sdaverei stfirztest? Wozu war es notig, dich vorzeitig zu begraben, da du genugende Mittel hattest, um bequem in der Welt zu leben? Dort bist du wie in eine Hohle eingeschlos- sen : fugst du nun noch die Tonsur, das Monchsgewand, die Einsamkeit, den bestandigen Fischgenuss hinzu, so ist es nichl zu verwundern, wenn du selbst in einen Fisch verwandelt wirst. . . . Ich zweifle nicht, dass es dich schon langst rent, in das Kloster eingetreten zu sein ; deun ich kenne wenige, die nicht die Reue erfasst." Besouders aber behandelt er die- sen wunden Punkt in der Virgo Miaogamoa und in der Pietas PuerUia. Es liege eine grosse Gefahr fur die Sittlichkeit in dem Kloster. Sicherer seien die Jungfrauen bei den Eltern als dort (quam apud illos crassos, semper cibo distentos mo- nachos). Der Abt sei ein wahnsinniger Siiufer, Pater Johannes besitze nicht einen Funken Bildung und nicht viel mehr ge- sunden Verstand, Pater lodocus ist so dumm, dass er, weun nicht das heilige Grewand ihn empfiihle, in der Narrenkappe mit Schellen und Kselsohren ofTeutlich herumlaufen wurde. . . . Auch finden sich im Kloster mehr Jungfrauen, die den Sitten der Sappho nachleben, als solche, die ihren Geist wider- spiegeln. Daher will sich der weise Jiingling, den Erasmus in Pid. Puer. als Muster anfuhrt, nicht in die Klosterhafl begeben, obgleich man ihn sehr dazu gedrangt hat : " crebro soUicitatus sum a quibusdam, ab hoc scculo, velut a naufragio, ad portum monasteriorum vocantibus. Sed mihi stat sententia, non addicere me vel sacerdotio, vel instituto nionachorum, unde post me non queam extricare, priusquam mihi fuero pulchre notus." *

^Eine reiche Zusammenstellung von Ausspriichen des Erasmus iiber Monchstum und Klosteivesen bei Stichart, Er. v, EoUerdam. Seine Stel- long zu der Kirche und zu den kirchl. Bewegungen seiner Zeit. Leipzig, 1870, pp. 92-119.

RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 53

Es genugt, die Inschrift iiber dem EingaDgstor zum Kloster Thelema genau durchzuleeen und die Elemente, die Rabelais aosgeschloesen haben will, genau zu verstehen/ um zu finden, dass die Aufiassung des Erasmus uud Rabelais iiber den gegen- wartigen Stand der Kloster ifarer Zeit v5llig identisch war.

Um uns nicht auf dem weiten Meer der tausendgestaltigen Satire gegen die Monche und die aussehliesslich scfaolastisch gebildeten Theologen bei Erasmus und Rabelais zu verlieren, miissen wir uns auf einige Hauptziige beschrjinken, die beson- ders hervorstechend sind, und die ihrem Geist, oft aucb ihrer Form nacfa die directe Beziehung und Anlefanung Rabelais' an seinen Meister erweisen ; Vollstandigkeit der Wiirdigung der unzahligen Ausspruche unserer Meister, die mil einem unge- heuren Wissen ausgestattet aus dem VoUen scfadpfend g^en eine versinkende Zeit ihre Pfeile scharften, wird nicht einmal fur mdglich gelialten, viel weniger versucbt.

Nachdem Erasmus in der Inqaisiiio de Fide sein Glaubens- bekenntnis abgel^t (^^ summam eatholicae professionis, idque aliquanto vividius ac liquidius, quam dooent tfaeologi quidam magni nominis, inter quos pono et G^rsonem "), und aueh sonst auf einem gereinigten, vernunftbegrundeten Gottesglauben seine Ethik beruhen lasst, nachdem auch Rabelais sein Evangelium vonGott und Menschenliebe verkundet ["que Dieu ne doit estre adore en fa^on vulgaire, mais en fayon esleue et religieuse "], steht beiden Mannern nun das weite Feld des in Aberglauben, Stumpfheit und scholastischeTiiftelei ausgearteten wahren,ech- ten Christentums zur Satire, zum AngriflF oflPen.

Schuld an dem Untergange wahrer Fromraigkeit sind aber die, welche die Hiiter derselben sein soUten : Sunt homunouli quidam, infimae quidem sortis, sed tamen malitiosi, non minus atri quflam scarabaei, neque minus putidi, neque minus abiecti ] qui tamen pertinaci qaadam ingenii malitia, cum nulli omnino mortalium prodesse possint, magnis etiam viris facessunt nego-

^ V. die Wiirdigung des Klostere Thelema bei Birch-H. I, 236-239.

54 H. SCHO£NF£LD.

tium. Territant nigrore, obstrepunt stridore, obturbant foetore; circumvolitanty faaerent, insidiantur^ ut dod paullo satius sit cum magnis aliquando viris simultatem suscipere, quam hos lacessere scarabaeos/ quos pudeat etiam vicisse^ quosque Dec excutere pos- sis, neque conflictari cum illis queas^ nisi discedas contaminatior (Adagia, Chil. Ill cent VII, 1 ). Ungefahr dieselben Zuge legt Rabelais den unglucklicben Opfern seiner Satire bei und ver- scharfl den Gegensatz nur nocb mefar durch das Gegcnbild, den braven, resoluten, lustigen Bruder Jean des Entommeures mit seinen Tugenden der Nachstenliebe und ewiger niitzlicher Thatigkeit. {Oeuvres, I, 40 ; cf. Birch-H. I, 234-236). Die " Gastrolatres " {Oeuvres, IV, 68), die Bauchfrohner oder Ma- genanbeter,' " tons ocieux, rien ne faisans, point ne travaillans, poids et charge inutile de la terre ; craignant le Ventre ofFenser et emmaigrir," die den Gaeter als ihren einzigen Gott anbeten, verraten sich leicfat unter ihrer durchsichtigen Maske ; gegen diese sprichwortliche Faulheit der Monche jener Zeit erhebt Erasmus sein "otium oeu pestem quandam fugio" {Piet. Puer.) zum Princip.

Den breitesten Raum nimmt jedoch bei Erasmus wie Rabe- lais die Satire auf die Unwissenheit, Bildungsfeindschail und denscfaolastischen Dunkel der Monche jener Zeit ein. Wir haben bei dem kurzen Abriss der Biographien beider Humanisten ^:esefaen, wie die Klassik in den Klosterschulen in volligc Bar- barei ausgeartet war, die Erziehung etwa in der Weise gehand- habt wurde, wie sie Rabelais beschreibt, und deren Gehalt darin bestand, " & entendre les cloches du monast^re, les beaux pres- chans et les beaux repons des religieux, a voir de belles pro- cessions et cL ne rien faire, en passant le temps, comme les petits

' Die monchiflche RachsDcht erwahrt Erasm. in JEkequiae Seraphieae : " Ta- tios ease re^m quemlibet potentem laedere, quam quemlibet ex ordine Fran- ciflcanoram aut Dominicanorum/'

' '* Vides &s KdKitrroy Briptov iarly ri yaar^ip " sagt Erasm. in Cimeio aive M, mit Beziehung aof die Mdnche. '*Ad edendum et bibendum plus quam ▼iri estis, ad laborandum nee manus babetis, nee pedes.'' nrwxo^^^^*'* Franeuottni.

RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 55

enfants du pays, c'est a savoir cL boire, manger et dormir etc.," wieder junge Gargautua unter den Sophisten iind Scbolastikern in seiner Erziehung herunterkommt {" il se conduit deja comme le plus cancre et le plus glouton des moines de ce temps-la," Sainte-Beuve, Oatis.), wie Erasmus den Tod oder Wahnsinn als Resultat der kl5sterlichen Zucht angiebt.

Viele Ausserungen des Erasmus und Rabelais * bestatigen denn aucb den Stand der Bilduug der entarteten Pfaffen : "Nihil aliud video caussae, nisi quod multi theologi negle- xerint et linguarum peritiam, et Latini sermonis studium, una cum priscis ecclesiae doctoribus, qui sine hisce praesidiis ad plenum intelligi non queant : praeterea quod difficillimum sit revellere, si quid penitus insederit animo. Porro videas quos- dam tantum scholasticis placUis tribuere, ut nialint ad ea de- torquere scripturam, quam ad scripturae regulara opiniones huraanas corrigere" {Conch sive M.) ; und weiter : " Non de- derunt a puero operam litteris ; nee est illis praeceptorum aut librorum copia, et si quid istiusmodi facultatis obtigit, malunt abdomini impendere. Sacrosanctam illam vestem ' existimant abunde suffieere et ad pietatis et ad eruditionis opinionem. Postremo putant nonnullam esse religionis partem, si cum suo Francisco ne Latine quidem loqui sciant. ..."

^ Die Hauptstellen gegen die Unwissenheit der Monche finden sioh volkahlig bei Birch-H. — I, 40 zahlt alle ihre Siinden auf, die Polemik gegen die ^'moinerie/' gegen "tas de villains^ immondes et pestilentes bestes noiree, etc. (Ill, 21) zieht sich durch den ganzen Roman (III, 15. 19; IV, 46, 60 etc).

* V. nTc»x<>*'^o^<o< Frandacani : " Sunt qui desperent se posse a morbo re- valescere, ni vestiantur cultu Dominicano : imo, qui ne sepeliri quidem velint nisi veste Franciscana.'^ " Ista qui suadent, aut captatores sunt aut fatui ; qui credunt superstitiosi. Deus non minus dignoscit nebulonem in veste Franciscana, quam in mUitari.''

Auch Rab. macht sich iiber die Kleidergebote lustig. " Trinken wir, sagt Gjmnaste, deposita cappa, ostons ce froc." '^ Ho, par Dieu, dist le moine, il 7 a un chapitre in statutis ordinis, auquel ne plairoit le cas [Anm. bei Bath^rj]. Ich trinke nur um so besser .... und (ironisch) Gott behiitet die Gesell- scbaft vor Bosem (sc. wenn ich die Kutte anhabe).'' cf. Oeuvres I, Prologue : " I'habit ne fait point le moyne."

66 H. 8CHOENFELD.

Die MoDcfae * sind scfauld an dem Reformationssturm : "To- tum hoc incendium, per monachos ortum, per eosdem hue usque incanduit, quod non aliter nunc quoque conantur exstinguere, quam si oleum, quod aiunt, addant camino/' (mit Anspielung auf die Ketzerbrande).

Die mouchische Ignoranz wird auch im ^^Synodo Ghram- maticorum *' satirisirt, in dem Erasmus sagt : "... rideo studium cuiusdam Carthusiani, suo iudieio doctissimi, qui quum in Graecas lilteras solet stolidissime debacchari, nunc libro suo indiderit Graecum titulum, sed ridicule." . . . Bruder Jean erzahlt (I, 39) von solch einem weissen Kaben von Monch, der studiert, im Gegensatz zu den Mitgliedem seines eigenen Klosters: "Cognoissez vous frere Claude de Saint Denys? Mais quelle moushe !'& picque? II ne fait rien qu'estudier de])uis je ne S9ay quand. Je n'estudie point de ma part. £n nostre abbaye nous n'estudions jamais, de peur des auripeaux. Nostrefeu abbi disoit que c^est chose monatrueuae voir un moine savant. Par Dieu, magis raagnos clericos non sunt magis mag- nos sapientes (Pardieu, les plus grands clercs ne sont pas les plus fins. Regniers, Sat. III)." * Etwa dieselbe Meinung bat der Abt Antronius im Coll. Abbotts et Eruditae, aller Wahr- scheinlichkeit nach das Prototyp des rabeliisischen. Der Abt

^ *^ Sie haben die Welt durch ihre Missbrauche vergiftet und eine Reform notig gemacht," sagt Rab. von ihnen 11, 29. Pantagruel macht sich anhei- schig, sie aus seinem Lande Utopien zu vertreiben : " Je te fab voeu que, par toutes contr^ tant de ce pays de Utopie que d'ailleurs, ou j'auray puissance et autorit^, je ferai prescher ton saint evangile purement, simplement, et entierement ; si que les abus d'un tas de papelars et faulx prophetes, qui ont par constitutions humaines et inventions deprav^ envenim^ tout le monde, aeront d'entour moj extermin^''

* Fiihrt uns Erasmus in der hochgebildeten Magdala ein Frauenmuster vor, so erweitert Rab. die Forderung einer tiichtigen Bildung auf das ganze Gleschlecht: wie vorteilhaft sticht z. B. Rab.'s Princip der Frauenerziehung ab von Montaigne's engherzigen Ansichten, der selbst das Studium der Rhetorik verbieten will, " um nicht ihre natiirlichen Reize unter erborgten Formen zu verstecken.'' Mit Anerkennung spricht sich Rab. iiber die Frauen aus, welche sich von den Bildungsidealen der Epoche des Humanismus be- geistern lassen. Vgl. daruber Birch-H.'s trefiiiche Studie, I, 170-177 : Die Frau und der Humanismus,

RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 57

behauptet dort : " Ego nolim meos monachos frequenter esse in libris ; " und antwortet auf die Frage der gebildeten Mag- dala : ^^ Sed quam ob rem tandem non probas hoc in monachis tuis ? '* " Quoniam experior illos minus morigeros : responsant ex Decretis, Decretalibus, ex Petro et Paulo . . . Quid illi doceant nescio, sed tamen non amo monacfaum responsatorem : neque velim quemquam plus sapere quam ^o sapiam/' Der Abt selbst sieht sicb am Studium gehindert dureh " prolixae preces, cura rei domesticae, venatus, equi, eultus aulae." Im weiteren Verlauf des Dialoges halt der Abt dafiir, Frauen durflen kein Latein verstehen, weil dies wenig zur Bewahrung ihrer Keuschheit beitragt.

Mag. : " Ergo nugacissimis fabulis pleni libri Gallice scripti faeiunt ad pudicitiam ? "

Abt : " Tutiores sunt a sacerdotibus (sc. mulieres), si nesciant Latine."

Mag. : " O da ist keine Gefehr . . ; quandoquidem hoc agitis sedulo, ne sciatis Latine."

Sodann schliesst sie mit der echt humanistischen Wendung : ". . . malim (sc. facultates meas) in bonis studiis consumere, quam in precibus sine mente dictis, in pernoctibus conviviis, in exhauriendiscapacibus pateris;^' und fahrt dann fort : " Einst war ein ungebildeter Abt ein seltener Vogel, jetzt giebt es nichts Gewohnlicheres. . . Wenn Ihr Ignoranten-Theologen Euch nicht hutet/ so wird es noch dahin kommen, dass wir Frauen

^ Welche Bliiten die Ignoranz der Monche zuweilen trieb, is^ in der Pere- grinaiio Beligionis ergo ergotzlich zu lesen. £ine mit lateinischen Miguskeln geschriebene Voiivtafel wird von den Monchen fiir hebraisch gebalten ('* isti, qoidqnid non intelligunt, Hebraicum vocant "), Nach Erklarung der lacher- lichen grammatischen Ungeheuerlichkeit vp&Tos Sartpos fiir Subprior fahrt der dummbigotte Ogygius fort, der Subprior babe ihn hoflich empfangen, ihm erzahlt, wie viele iiber der Erklarung der Votivtafel geschwitzt haben. So oft ein alter Dr. theol. oder jur. gekommen sei, habe man ihn zu der Tafel gefdhrt ; der eine habe die Schriftziige fiir ArabiBch, der andere fiir imagi- nar erklart. EndUch sei einer gekommen, der den mit groesen lateinischen Buchstaben geechriebenen Titel gelesen habe. Die Verse waren griechiBch mit groasen griechischen Buchstaben geschrieben, die beim ersten Anschein wie die lateinischen auasehen.

58 H. SCHOENFELD.

in den Tfaeologenscbulen den Vorsitz fiihren, in den Tempeln predigen . . . : scbon andert sich die Weltbiihue, ein neuer Morgen tagt, eine neue Welt geht auf !"

Bei genauerer Priifung iind Vergleiehung des erasniischen Colloquiums Funus und den Sterbescenen des Raminagrobis bei Rabelais, III, 21, 22, 23, finde ieh so vielc Anklange, dass ich jenes Coll. fur die Quelle des Rabelais halte.

Nacbdem namlich Erasmusdie letzten Stunden ^ desGeorgius besprocben, den Arzten einige Seitenbiebe versetzt, besondere aber die Streitigkeiten der Dominikaner, Franziscaner, Angus- tiner, Carmeliten etc., die bald in ScbHigereien am Totenbette aiisarteten, die Caeremonien der Beicbte etc. (" numquam audivi mortem operosiorem, nee funus ambitiosius") verspottet, giebt er einen Bericbt eines diametral verscbiedenen Hinganges, den Tod des Cornelius (" ut vixit nulli molestus, ita mortuus est "). Dieser bereitet sicb still auf den Tod vor, nimmt nur einen Arzt (" non minus bonum virum, quani bonum medicum "), tbut Be- durftigen Gutes, sorgt fiir seine Familie, bestimmt Nicbts fur das Kloster, lasst nicbt einen Moncb an sein Bett rufen, em- pfangt die letzte Olung, legt aber keine Beicbte ab, indem keine Gewissensbisse in seinem Gemute zuriickgeblieben seien, und stirbt leicbt und friedlicb (^' numquam audivi mortem minus operosam ").*

^ Die Satire auf die Trauerfeierlichkeiten nimmt Erasm. wieder auf im E. M.: " Ad hoc collegium (i. e. stultorum) pertinent, qui vivi, qua funeris pompa velint efferri, tam diligenter statuunt, ut nominatim etiam praescri- bant, quot taedas, quot pullatos, quot cantores velint adesse . . . , quam si aediles creati ludos aut epuluro edere studeant." Cf. auch Exseguiae Seraphieae*

' Cf. Qmv, Bdig. : ''At ego quot vidi Christianos quam frigide morientes 1 Quidam fidunt in his rebus, quibus non est fidendum : quidam ob consden- tiam soelerum et scrupulos, quibus indocti quidam (d. i. Geistliche) obstre- piint morituro, pene desperantes exhalant animam. Nee mirum eos sic mori, qui per omnem vitam tantum phUosophati sunt in eeremoniisf" ErasmuB selbst wiinscht in seinem Testament vom 22. Januar 1527, das Ludwig Sieber herausgegeben (Basel 1889, Schweighauser, 28 8.\ "sein Begrabnis weder armlich noch luxurios" und ''ritu ecclesiastico, sicut nemo queri possit.'' K. Hartfelder, BerL Philol, Woehentchrift, vom 17, Sept. 1892.

RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 59

Granz afanlich spielt sich die Todesscene bei Raminagrobis ab. Pantagruel und seine Freunde fiinden den guten Greis im Todeskampfe "avec maintien joyeiix, face ouverte, et regard lumineux." Nur entledigt er sich der PfafiTen verschieden von Cornelius in rabelasischer Weise : " J'ay ce jourd'hui, qui est le dernier et de may et de moy, faors ma maison h grande fatigue et difficult^, chass6 un tas de villaines, immondes et pestilentes bestes, noires, . . . ., lesquelles laisser ne me vou- loient k mon aise mourir ; et, par fraudulentes pointures, .... importunit^s freslonnicques, toutes forg^ en I'officine de ne 89ay quelle insatiabilit6, me evocquoient du doux pen%enient on- quel je acquies^ois, cojiiemplanty voyant, et ja touchaid et goua- laid le bien etfeliciti, que le bon Dieu a prepari d sesfiddes et esleuz, en Pautre vie, et estat de immortcdiii. Thut nicht, wie jene ! Declinez de leur voye, ne soyez k elles (bestes) sembla- bles, plus ne me molestez. . . ."

An dieser Stelle brach Erasmus bei Cornelius ab, denn er hatte seinen Zweck erreicht ; Rabelais aber hat noch mehr zu sagen, um die Monche abzuthun. Der heuchlerisch*, aber- glaubische Panurge discutirt den "Ketzertod" und ruhmt die guten " peres mendians cordeliers, et jacobins, qui sont les deux hemispheres de la christient6," mit ironischer Heuchelei, welche die Satire nur um so scharfer hervortreten lasst. Dagegen nimmt der gute Bruder Jean die Ketzerei des Dichters nicht so tragisch : '^ Ilz raesdisent de tout le monde ; si tout le monde mesdit d'eux, je n'y pretends aucun interest."

Ubrigens spielt Rabelais auf Erasmus' 'I;^5i;o<^a7Ui, wo die- ser die Monche so scharf hernimmt, deutlioh genug an, wenn er den Panurge sagen lasst : '^ Mais que tons les diables luy ont fiiit les pauvres diables de Capussins, et Minimes? Ne sont ilz assez meshaign^s les pauvres diables? Ne sont ilz assez enfum^s et perfum^ de misere et calamity, les pauvres haires, extraids de ichthyophagie ? "— die Absicht der Satire auf die wTOD^oTrXovaioi ist hier evident.

In Erasmus^ Naufragium ist aller Wahrscheinlichkeit nach die Quelle zu der graphischen Beschreibung des Seesturmes,

60 H. SCHOENFELD.

der komiscfa wirkenden Todesangst des Panurge mit seinen Gelubden, der gefassten Kuhe des Pantagruel und Binder Jean zu suchen (IV, 18-24). Nur werden alle die in der Angst abgel^ten Geliibde im Naufragium dem feigen Heuchler Pa- nurg zugewiesen. Die Seekrankfaeit, das Grebet an die heilige Jungfrau, die unerfUllbaren Versprechungen, das Verlangen nacb der Beichte, alle diese Zuge finden sicfa bei Panurge wieder.

*' Unum audivi, erzahlt Adolphus, ''Saint Michel d' Aure : Saint Nioo-

non sine risu, qui clara voce, ne las^ k oeste fois et jamais plus, betet

non exaudiretur, poUioeretur Chris- Panui^. Je vous fais icy bon voeu

tophoro qui est Lutetiae in summo et k Nostre Seigneur, [in zwciter

templo, mons verius quam statua, Reihel] que si 21 ce coup m'estes

cereum tantum, quantus esset ipse, aidans, j'entends que me mettez en

Haec cum vociferans quantum pot- terre hors ce danger icy, je vous edi-

erat identidem inculcaret, qui forte fieray une belle grande petite chapelle

proximus assistebat illi notus, cubito ou deux

tetigit eum ac submonuit. Vide quid Entre Quande et Monssoreau,

pollicearb : etiamsi rerum omnium Et n'y paistra vache nc veau.''

tuanim auctionem facias, non fueris Die Pointe versteht sich hier yon

solvendo. Tum ille voce iam pres- selbst ; dass er sein Geliibde nicht

siore, ne* videlicet cxaudiret Chris- halten wird, ist klar. Aber er spricht

tophorus: Taoe, inquit fatue; an credis es nicht aus, wie der Dummkopf bei

meexanimisententialoqui? Sisemel Erasm., der den heil. Christoph be-

oontigero terram, non daturus sum triigen wUL Ubrigens trifil sich

illi candelam sebaceam." (I) Panurge mit jenem, wenn er zu dem

fluchenden Bruder Jean sagt: "Ne

jurons point pour ceste heure. De

main tatU que voua voudrez, (IV, 19 ) ." '

"Aderat et Dominicanus quidam. Die Beichte drastischer bei Rabe-

Huic oonfessi sunt qui volebant,'* lais: Zalas, frere Jean, mon pere,

nachdem ein gewisser Greis Adamus mon amy, confession. Me voyez cy H

ausdemGersondiefunf Wahrheiten genoulx. Confiteor, vostre sainte

iiber den Nutzen der Beichte ausein- benediction.''

andergelegt

Man vergleiche aiich die Analogic in dem kurzen Gebet des Pantagruel, direkt an Gott gerichtet, (IV, 21) mit dem des weisen Adolphus, der kein Geliibde ablegt, weil er mit den

^ Bruder Jean hat iiberhaupt ein Faible fiir das Fluchen, entsohuldigt ee witzig 1, 39 ( Ende ) : '' Ce n'est que pour orner mon langage. Ce sont oouleurs de rhetorique Ciceroniane." (v. Anm. bei Rath.)

RABELAIS UKD ERASMUS. 61

Heiligen keine Vertrage abschliessen will ['' do, si facias : aut faciam, si facias : dabo cereum, si enatem ; ibo Bomam, si serves "], sondem sich direkt an Gott wendet [" Nemo divorum illo citius audit, aut libentius donat quod petitur"], um nicht wahrend der Unterbandlungen z. B. des heiligen Peter mit Gott unterzugehen ['^ Si cui divo commendaro meam salutem, puta Sancto Petro, qui fortasse primus audiet, quod adstet ostio ; (welch feine Ironie !) priusquam ille conveniat Deum, priusquam exponat caussam, ego iam periero/'].

1st in diesem Abschnitt, der die wahre Frommigkeit in der Stunde der Gefahr behandelt und die wahnwitzige Heuchelei persifflirt, die Ahnlichkeit der rabelasischen Satire mit der erasraischen deutlich genug hervorgetreten, so lasst sich die Beziehung der Satire auf alle kirchlichen Einrichtungen, die nicht in Gottes Wort wurzein, bei Beiden genau bis ins £in- zelne verfolgen.

Zunachst ist das Caelibat beiden Satirikern ein Dorn im Auge, weil es gegen die Natur und die menschliche Freiheit verstosst.

In der " ^lxOvo<l)arfia " sagt Erasmus ausdriicklich : '* Matri- monii votum est iuris sine controversia divini ; et tamen din- mitur per monasticae vitae professionem ab hominibus reper- tam ; " im Qmv. Religiosum: " Paulus vult, unumquemque suo frui affectu citra contumeliam alterius . . . Fit enim saepe- numero, ut vescens gratior sit Deo, quam non vesoens, et diem festum violans aoceptior sit Deo, quam is, qui videtur observare : et matrimonium huius gratius sit oculis Dei, quam multorum caelibatus ; " und im weiteren Verlauf : "Nee enim mihi placet eorum sententia, qui fortunatum putant, uxorem habuisse nun- quam : magis arridet, quod ait sapiens Hebraeus, ei bonam sortem obtigisse, cui obtigit uxor bona." In alien Colloquien, wo Erasmus die Belehrung von Frauen, Jungfrauen, Jung- lingen unternimmt, tritt er als Anwalt einer keuschen, reinen Ehe ein, so in der Puerpera^ der Virgo fiia-6yafio<;, Uxor fjL€fiyjriyafw<; ; uberall erscheint ihm die Ehe als das Fundament der burgerlichen Ordnung. Rabelais ist durchaus ein warmer

62 H. SCHOENFELD.

Verfechter der Klie, wohl nicht bloss darum, dass er selbst mit dem Caelibat in Conflict geraten ist,* sondem weil er die Ehe fur eine sittliche wie physiologische ^ Notwendigkeit gehalten. Keiner hat gei8treicher und scharfer die Schaden und Sunden markirt, die sich aus dem Caelibat bei dem Priesterstand er- geben, als eben er.

Aber er hat ebenso wie Erasmus ausdrueklich darauf be- standen, dass die Verheiratung der jungen I^eute von den Eltern sanktionirt werden miisse. Es hatte sich namlich nach dem canonischen Recht ein Missbrauch ausgebildet, dass die Zustimmung der Eltern zur Eheschliessung ihrer Kinder durchaus nicht notig sei.^ Dag^en wendet sich Rabelais in eiucm langen Kapitel (III, 48). "Je n'ay jamais entendu que par loy aucune, fust sacre, fust prophane et barbare, ait est6 en arbitre des enfans soy marier, non consentans, voulans, et promo vens leurs peres, meres et parens prochains. Tons legislateurs ont es enfans ceste liberty tollue, es parens Tout reserv^e," sagt der musterhafte Konigsohn Pantagruel. Granz in demselben Sinne hatte schon Erasmus in der Virgo fiiaoya/xo^ die Streitfrage entschieden, iudem er den Eubulus {ev ^ovXij) sagen lasst : " Quae est igitur ista nova religio, quae facit irri- tum, quod et naturae lex sanxit, et vetus lex docuit, et Evan- gelica lex comprobavit, et Apostolica doctrina confirmavit? Isthuc decretum non est a Deo proditum, sed in monachorum senatu re|)ertum. Sic deiiniunt quidam, et matrimonium esse ratum, quod insciis, aut etiam invitis parentibus inter puerura et puellam per verba de praeseiiH* (i^H) enim illi loquuntur) con-

* Vide den Abschnitt iiber seinen zweijiihrig verstorbenen Sohn Th^odule bei Rath^ry, Noliee^ pp. 70-72. Marty- Laveaux, IV, 394.

* cf. OeuvreSj III, 4 (sub fine) : die Ehe ist eine Pflicht. " Peine par nature est au refusant intertnin^, . . . furie parmy les »enn ; " cf. Luthers " melius nubere quam uri.''

'Rath^ry's Anra. 1 zu OeutreSj IV, 48. Birch-H. I, 251, Anm.

^D^apr^ une ancienne regie de droit canonique la simple d<k;laration, faite devant un pr^tre, par deux personnes, qu'elles entendaient actuelle- ment se prendre pour mari et femme emportait manage, pourvu qu'elle fftt suivie de la cohabitation. Cest oe qu'on appelait paroles de praeserUi. Rath^ry, Anm. 6. zu OeuvreSf IV, 48.

BABELAIS UND EKASMUS. 63

tractum est. Atqui istud dogma, nee naturae seusus approbat, nee veterum leges, nee Moyses ipse, nee Evangelica aut Apos- tolica doctrina." Ubrigens wurde der Missbraueh durch das B^ierungsedict von 1666 und die Verordnung von 1660 auch beseitigt.

Mit dem neunten Kapitel des III Baches beginnt die wieh- tige Frage, ob sich Panurge verheiraten soil oder nicht, eine Frage, so bedeutungsvoll, so schwer zu entscheiden, dass sie erst in der Reise nach dem Orakel zur heiligen Flasche aus- lautet und nicht einmal hier ihre Entscheidung findet. Das Unsichere li^t aber vorzuglich darin, dass Panurge heiraten soil, nicht in der Heirat selbst ; denn Rabelais selbst ist der Meinung des Weisen : " L^ od n'est femme, j'entends mere families, et en mariage .legitime, le malade est en grand estrif. [Ubi non est mulier, ingemiscit egens. Vulgaia,'] J'en ay veu claire experience en papes, legatz, cardinaux, evesques, abb6s, prieurs, prestres et raoines.'*

Eine Fulle von Untersuchungen sind uber Wesen und Ur- sprung dieses Kapitels angestellt worden. Fiir uns ist es unwesentlich, ob Rabelais die Plaidoyers der Rechtsgelehrten Bouchard und Tiraqueau fur und gegen die Frauen in geist- reichem Scherz verwendet.^

Der Prediger Raulin^ lasst seinen Pfarrer auf die Frage jener Wittwe, ob sie ihren Knecht heiraten soil, in ahnlicher Weise antworten, wie Pantagruel auf die des Panurge. Le Duchat hat zuerst die Anklange an die Facetiae von Pogge und das Echo von Erasmus herausgefunden.' Moli^re hat von diesem Kapitel im Mariage forc^ Gebrauch geraacht.

Die absolute Anlehnnng des Rabelais an das Echo des Eras- mus in Form und Stoff ist ganz in die Augen fallend. Dieselbe Frage " heiraten oder nicht heiraten " wird hier, \^'ie dort ven- tilirt, freilich mit geringerer WortfuUe bei Erasmus:

^ Rath^ry, Notieef p. 9.

* OjMW aermonum de Adventu, Paris, 1519. Sermo III. De Vidaitate. 'Paal Lacroix (Jacob Bibliophile), Anm. I. zu Rab. IV, 9. Rath^iy, SchliuBanm. zu dem Kap.

64

H. 8CHOENFELD.

Erit auspicatuzD, si uzorem do- zero ? Sero.

Quid si mihi veniat usu, quod his qui inddant in uxoree parom pudicas parumque frugiferas? Feras.

Atqui cum talibus morte durior est yita. Vita (cave).

Siocine in rebus humanb dominari fortunam f Unam,

" Mais, dist Panurge, si vous cog- noissiez que mon meilleur fust tel que je suis demeurer, sans entre- prendre cas de nouvellet^ j'aimer- ais mieux ne me marier point.'' ''Point done ne vous mariez/'

''Mais si ma femme me faisoit ooqUy-comme vous savez qu'il en est grande ann^ ce seroit assez pour me faire trespasser hors les gonds de patience.'' "Ce qu' & autruj tu auras fait, sois certain qu'autruj te fera."

" Mais, pour mourir, je ne le voud- rob estre.

(J'aimerais mieux ^tre mort que oocu. Anm. Rath.)

Cest un point ^ut trap me poingt" " Point eta"

"N'estes vous asseur^ de vostre vouloir ?

Le point principal j giai: toiU U reste ut fortuity el dependant desfatalet dispositiorm du eiel" (cap. 10).

"Voire mais voudriez vousqu'ainsi seulet je demeurasse toute ma vie, sans oompagnie conjugale. Vous savez qu'il est escrit : Vae soli. L'homme seul n'a jamais tel soulas qu'on voit entre gens mari^." "Mariez vous done."

Und so liesse sich das emste Spiel noch weiter fortsetzen, um zu zeigeDy dass dem Rabelais das Original bestimmt vorgel^en haben muss.^

^ In dem Volksliede " Der bestandige Freier " findet sich dieselbe Spie- lerei : " Andreas, lieber Schutzpatron, | Gieb mir doch einen Mann 1 1 Rache doch jetzt meinen.Hohn, | Sich mein schones Alter an !

Krieg idi einen oder keinen f Einen. weiter: gefallen? alien, kaltich? alUich. Gleichen ? Leichen. Lange? Enge, etc. Fr. K. von Erlach, Die Volkdieder der Deulaehen, II. Fliegende Blatter meist aus des Knaben Wunderhom.

Attamen misemm est homines vi< ▼ere solos. "Okots.

RABELAIS UND EBA8MU8. 66

Ein der scharfsten Satire wurdiger Aberglaiibe scbeint dem Erasmas wie Rabelais das Pilgerwesen zu sein. Znsammen- fiissend aussert sich ersterer dariiber wie folgt : ^

''In oolloqoio de visendo loea aaara Die Hauptstelle, wo sich Bab. ge-

cx>hibetiir superstitiosus et immodi- gen die Pilgerfahrten aoflspricht, ist

COS quonindam affectos, qui summam 1, 45 : Die Pilger kommen von Saint-

pietatem esse ducunt vidiflse Hiero- IS'ebastian bei Nantes, wo sie dem

soljmam : et hue per tanta terrarum Heiligen ihre Geliibde gegen die

marisque spatia currunt senes epis- Pest abgelegt haben. Auf die iro-

copi, relicto grege, qui curandus erat ; nische Frage des Grandgousier, ob

hue viri principes, relicta familia ac denn die Pest von dem heil. Sebas-

ditione ; hue mariti, relictis domi li- tian aiisgehe, versichert der Sprecher :

beris et uzore, quorum moribus ac " Gewiss, nnsere Prediger yersichem

pudidtiaeneoessariuseratcustos; hue es uds." ''Ouy, dist Grandgousier,

adolescentes ac foeminae, non sine les faulx prophetes vous annonoent

gravi discrimine morum et integri- ilz telz abus? Blasphement ilz en

tatis. Quidam etiam iterum atque ce8tefa9on les jnsteset saints deDieu,

itemm recurrunt,' nee aliud faciunt qu'ilz les font semblables aux diables,

per omnem vitam, et interim super- qui ne font que mal entre les hu-

stitioni, inconstantiae, stultitiae, te- mains? . . . Ainsi preschoit un ca-

meritatipraeteziturreligionistitulus, phart, que saint Antoine mettoit le

ac desertor suorum, contra doctrinam feu es jambes ; saint Eutrope faisoit

Pauli, sanctimoniae laudem aufert, ac les hydropiques; saint Gildas les

sibi quoque pietatis omnes numeros fous ; saint Genou les gouttes. Mais

explease videtur. . . . Quid dicturus je le punis en tel exemple, quoiqu'il

(Paukis) de maritis, qui destitutis m'appelast heretique, que depuis ce

teneris liberis, uxore iuvencula, id- temps caphart quiconques n'est os^

que in re tenui, proficiscuntur Hiero- entrer en mes terres. Et m'esbahis

Boljmam. (Dann folgt das Beispiel si vostre roy les laisse prescher par

einer solchen verhangnisvollen Pil- son royaume telz scandales. Car plus

gerfahrt) Clamat Sanctus Hierony- sent k punir que ceux qui par art

mus : Non magnum est Hierosolymis magique ou autre engin auroient mis

fniflse ; sed bene vixisse magnum est" la peste par le pays. La peste ne tue

Im Coll. De Votis Temere Suseeplis que le corps, mais ces predications

bekennt Cornelius, die Torheit habe diaboliques infectionnent les ames

ihn, so wie viele andere, nach Jerusa- des pauvres et simples gens." Auch

lem gefuhrt, iiberall habe er Barbarei hier wird die Gefahr fur die zuriick-

gesehen ; arm und moralisch schlech- bleibenden Frauen und Tochter der

ter sei er zuruckgekehrt. Sein Mit- Pilger — freilich mit den drastischen

» De CoU. UtiL

* Video quosdam septies illo (sc Komam) recurrere. Adeo scabies ilia sine fine solet pmrire, si quern semel invaserit

De Oaptandis Sacerdotiis, 6

66 H. SCHOENFELD.

sprecher Amoldus ist indesBen naeh rabelaaischen Farben, die in solchen einem in der Trunkenheit abgelegten Fallen ins Obsooene ubemigehen Geliibde in Rom and Compostella pflegen — geschildert. (^wesen. Nicht Pallas, sondem die Der gate Grandgousier entlaast die Moria selbst babe ibn bingefiibrti Pilger mit denselben Belehnmgen, zumal er eine jugendliche Gattin, die wir aus Erasmus ziehen k5nnen : einige Kinder und einen von seiner ''AUez vous en, pauvres gens, au nom Arbeit abbangigen Hausbalt zariick- de Diea le createur, lequel votis soit gelassen babe. — Im Colloquium Se- en guide perpetuelle. Et dorenawint nUe sagt Pampirus ironiscb ; '' Tan- ne aoytz faeiles d ees oeieux et inutiles dem fessus inquirendo (d. i. von voyages, Entreienez vob famiUes, tra- Kloster zu Kloster die Frommigkeit vailUz choMun en sa vacation, instmeg zu sucben) sic mecum cogitabam : ut vos enfanSj et vivez comme vous enseigne semel omnemsanctimoniam aasequar, le ban aposire saint Paid." petam terram sanctam, ac redibo do- mum sanctimonia onustus. . . Atta- men cum Hierosolymam adirem, ad- dideram me in comitatum cuiusdam magnatis praedivitis, qui natus annos septuaginta negabat se aequo animo moriturum, nisi prius adisset Hiero- solymam. Ac domi reliquerat uxo- rem atque etiam liberos sex. . J^ Aber er selbst sei um ein Betrachtlicbes scblechter zuriickgekommen, als er gegangen sei.

Der lacherliche Aufzug eines solchen Pilgers wird in der PeregrinatU) Rdigionis ergo beschrieben : " Menederaus : . . . obsitus es conchis imbricatis, stanneis ac plumbeis imaginibus oppletiis undiqiie, culmeis ornatus torquibiis; brachium habet ova 8eri)entum (Kosenkranz, bestehend aus kleinen Kugeln^ wie Schlangeneier, ziim Ziihlen der Gebete)." Der so ver- mummte Ogygius hat den heil. Jacob von Compostella und die Virgo Parathalassia in Kngland besucht ; seine Schwi^r- mutter hatte namlich das Geliibde abgel^t, dass er, wenn ihre Tochter einen Knabcn zur Welt brachte, den heiligen Jacob personlich besuchen sollte. Der weitere Verlauf dieses Dia- loges von dem dankbaren Zunicken des Heiligen, dem Wun- derbriefe der Mutter Gottes, der von dem Engel au^hauenen Inschrifl ist sehr interessant und ironisch.

RABELAIS UND ERASMUS. 67

Die fidsche^ sinnlose Heiligenanbetung bietet ebenfidls Bei- den reichen Stoff zur Satire. Ganze Abschnitte des Narrenhbea sind ihr geweiht. " Wenn sie (d. i. die Narren) das Gluck gehabt haben, eine Holzstatue oder sonst eine Abbildung ihres Polyphem, des heiligen Christophorus/ zu sehen, glauben sie an jenem Tage vor dem Tode sicher zu sein, oder wenn ein Soldat vor dem Bilde der heiligen Barbara sein Gebet ver- richtet hat, so hoflft er unversehrt aus der Schlaoht heimzu- kehren. Man ruft auch Erasmus an bestimmten Tagen, mit bestimmten wachsernen Weih^^eschenken und unter bestimm- ten frommen Spriichen als einen Heiligen an und erwartet, demnachst ein reicher Mann zu werden. Und nun erst ihr Hereules, der heilige G«org ! . . . Und weiter, gehort es nicht beinahe in dieselbe Kategorie, dass jedes Land seinen beson- deren Heiligen hat? Man betet diese hiramlischen Herren auf die niannigfaehste Weise an und teilt ihnen die verschie- densten Arten des Schutzes zu : ^ der eine heilt Zahnsehmerzen, der andere steht den Gebarenden bei ; dieser bringt Gestoh- lenes zuriick, jener rettet aus den Gefahren des Schiffbruchs ; ein anderer sorgt fur die Sicherheit der Heerden, u. dgl. m. ; die

* " Praecipua spes erat in divo Christophoro, cuias imaginem quotidie oon- templabar." (Sein Bild war im Zelt mit Kohle an die Wand gemalt). ''MUUis Confewwr

'Bei dem feindlichen Einfall {OeuvreSy I, 27) '*wu88ten die armen Teufel von Monchen nicht, welchem ihrer Heiligen sie sich zuerst weihen soUten/* Sodann riefen die Feinde unter Brader Jean's Streichen za alien Heiligen, die er namhaft macht, aber das niitzte nichts. Einige beichteten den Monchen, aber als sie dorch die Bresche fliehen wollten, totete sie der tapfere Jean mit Hohnworten : " die haben gebeichtet und Gnade gewonnen ; fort mit ihnen geradenwegs zum Paradies." Also auch die Beichte niitzte den armen Teufeln nichts. Als Jean, wie Absalom, an dem Baume hing (1, 42), rief er dem Gargantua und Eudemon zu, die wackere Reden fuhrten, statt ihm zu helfen : '' Vous me semblez les prescheurs decretalistes, qui disent que quiconques verra son prochain en danger de mort, il le doibt, sus peine d'excommunication trisulce, plus tost admonester de soy oonfesser et mettre en estat de grace que de luy aider." " Quand done je les verray tomb^ en la rividre et prestz d'estre noy^ en lieu de les aller querir et bailler la main, je leur feray un beau et long sermon de oontemptu mundi et fuga seculi ; et, lors qu'ilz seront roides mors, je les iray pescher."

68 H. SCHOENFEU).

Zeit wiirde mir fehlen, alles aufzuzahlen. Auch giebt es Hei- lige^ deren AnseheD und Macht sich auf verschiedene Gebiete erstreckt ; ich Denne vor allem die Mutter Gottes, die in den Augen des Volkes eine fast noch hohere Gewalt besitzt, als ihr Sohn. Und um was Alles werden nieht diese Heili^en gebeten? Wie konnte ich diese Flut von Aberglauben angreifen ; es ist wie eine lernaisehe Schlange ; mit hundert Zungen und einer Stimme von Erz kdnnte ich nicht die unzahligen Torheiten aufzahlen. Die Priester hegen und pflegen indes das Unkraut herzlieh gem, wissen sie doch recht wohl, welcher Nutzen daraus erwachst."

Sodann giebt Erasmus seine Version der Absolution der Sunden : ^' Lebet in echt ehristlichem Sinne und euer Ende wird ein gesegnetes sein. Siihnet eure Vergehen, aber spendet nicht nur ein geringes Geldstiick, sondern basset auch wahrhaft das B5se, jammert, wachet, betet, fastet und andert euren ganzen Wandel. Folget im Leben dera Beispiel cures Heiligen, und ihr werdet euch seine Gunst erwerben."

Aber wie sieht cs mit der Beichte und Absolution aus? Beide halten von der Beichte, wie sie zu ihrer Zeit geiibt wurde, nicht viel.

"Illi oonfiteor, qui vere solus re- Rab. satirisirt die Beichte z. B. FV,

mitdt peccata, cui est potestas uni- 49, wo Homenaz den Reisenden er-

versa, Christo. Is enim auctor est lauben will die Decretalen zu kiissen ;

omnis boni: sed an ipse instituerit "mais il vous oonviendra paravant

hone confessiouem, qucUis nunc est in trois jours jeuner, et regulierement

tMu eeeUdaey theologis excutieodum confesser, curieusement espluchans et

relinquo. Haec est certe praecipua inventorizans vos pech^ tant dm,

confessio : nee est facilei confiteri qu*en terre ne tombast une seule cir*

Christo. Non confitetur illi, nisi qui Constance, comme divinement nous

ezanlmoiraBcitursuopeccato. Apud chantent les dives Decretales que

ilium expono deploroque, si quid ad- voyez.'^ Vgl. einige Zeilen spater

misi gravius ; clamo, lacrymor, ploro, den schnoden Witz in dem Wortspiel

me ipsum exsecror, illius imploro des Panurge. misericordiam: nee finem facio, donee sensero peccandi affectum penitus ex- purgatum e medullis animi, et suoce- dere tranquillitatem aliquam et ala- critatem, ocfndonati criminis argu-

BABELAIS UND EBASMUB. 69

mentmn." Erweistfernerdiefieichte ▼or dem Priester nicht ganz zaruck,* glaabt aber, daas nicht Alles eine Todsunde ist, was gegen mentehliche Einrichtungen der Kirche verstoest. Der weise Knabe ist eben religioSi ohne aberglaobisch zo sein. {Piet, Puerilia,)

In noch hdherem Grade ist die Art der Absolution^ des Ablasses des Sunden, beiden Mannern ein Dorn im Auge. £s ist ja besonders aiis Lathers Schriften sattsam bekannt, was aus dem Ablass am Ende des XV und am Anfange des XVI Jahrhunderts geworden. Erasmus verabsaumt keine Gelegen- heit, die Entartung des Ablasses zu brandmarken, und Rabe- lais enlehnt der Einrichtung unter anderem das drastisch sati- rische Kapitel II, 17: " Comment Panurgegagnait les pardons" ^

Am heftigsten lasst sich Erasmus g^en den Ablass, wie er damals geworden, im Encomium aus : " Was soil man von den- jenigen sagen," bricht er los, " qui magicis quibusdam notulis ac preculis, quas pius aliquis impostor, vel animi causa vel ad quaestum excogitavit, freti, nihil sibi non poUicentur, opes, honores, voluptates, saturitates, valetudinem perpetuo prospe- ram, vitam longaevam . . . denique proximum Christi apud

^Obronig Apologetica: "Ne mihi quidem ipei satis adhuc plene constat, quod eoclesia definierit, banc confessionem ut nunc fit, esse ex instituUone Christi. Sunt enim permulta argumenta, mihi quidem insolubilia, quae soadent contrarium." Aber er unterwirft sich der Autoritat der Kirche : ** £t tamen hunc animi mei sensum ubique submitto iudicio ecclesiae, libenter sequuturuSy simulatque certum vigilans claram Ulius vocem audiero. . , . "

* Oder hat Bab. auch diese Episode direkt aus Erasmus ^*Peregrinaito Re- ligUmis ergo^' gezogen? Dort erzahlt Ogygius: *'Imo vero sunt quidam adeo dediti sanctissimae virgini, ui dum simulant sese munua impona-e altarif mira dexUritate suffurenlur, quod alius pasuerai" Auf den Einwurf des Mene- demus : "An non in tales illico fulminaret Virgo ? " erwidert Og. : " Qui magis id faceret Virgo, quam ipse pater aethereus, quem non verentur nudare Buis omamentis, vel perfosso templi pariete?'^ Panurge fiihrt dasselbe Hanover in alien Earchen von Paris aus, rechtfertigt aber den Diebstahl in CTmscher Weise : " Car les pardonnaires me le donnent, quand ilz me disent, en presentant les reliques k baiser, centuplum aocipies, que pour im denier j'en prenne cent."

70 H. SCHOENFELD.

8uperos coDsessum. . . . Hic mihi puta negotiator aliquis, aut miles, aut iudex, abiecto ex tot rapinis unico Dummulo, universam vitae Lernam semel expurgatam putat, totque per- iuria, tot libidines, tot ebrietates, tot rixas, tot caedes, tot im- posturas, tot perfidias, tot proditiones existimat velut ex pacto redimi, et ita redimi, ut iam liceat ad novum scelerum orbem de integro reverti/' Noch schiirfer tritt die Satire hervor: "2)« Voiis Temere Stisoeptut.^' Es wird von einem Pilger erzahlt, er sei langst im Himmel, denn er habe den Giirtel mit den reichsten Indulgenzen gefiillt gehabt. Und der Weg zum Himmel war ihm gebahnt, denn er war mit Diplomen genii- gend ausgeriistet. Auf den Einwurf, wenn er nun aber einen Engel trafe, der kein Latein verstiinde, erfolgt die Antwort : Dann miisste er nach Rom zuriickkehren und ein neues Diplom holen ; denn BvJlen werden dort auch an Tate verkauft.

In MilUis Chnfessio hoSt der Soldat, der eben von sich eingeraumt, " Plus illic(i. e. in bello) scelerum et vidi etpairaviy quam unquam antehoc in omni vita'' und vorher: ''sceleribus onustus redeo'' denuoch auf volligen Ablass seiner Siinden bei den Dominikaneru : ^^ Etiam si Christum spoliassem ac deco- lassem (!) etiam ; largas habent indulgentias et auctoritatem oomponendi/' . . . Den Reliquienschwindelentlarvt Erasmus besonders in der Peregrinatio und der Inqui»Uio de Fide. Das riesige Glied des Mittelfingers des heiligen Petrus wird gezeigt, sodann werden die Pilger zu der Milch der gebenedeiten Jungfrau gefiihrt. '^ O raatrem iilii simillimam ! ille nobis tantum sanguinis sui reliquit in terris; haec tantum lactis, quantum vix credibile est esse posse uni mulieri uniparae, etiamsi nihil bibisset infans." Dasselbe gilt von den Kreuz- reliquien : "Idem caussantur de cruce Domini, quae privatim ac publice tot locis ostenditur, ut si fragmenta conferantur in unum, navis onerariae iustum onus videri possint ; et tamen totam cruoem suam baiulavit Dominus." Die Erklarung des Ogygius, dass Gott gemass seiner Allmacht das Holz nach seinem Willen vermehren kann, weist Menedemus zuruck :

RABELAIS UKD EBA8MU8. 71

"Pie tu quidem iDterpretaris : at ego vereor ne muUa ialiajm' gwniur ad quaestumy etc., etc.''

Gegen das kirchliche Gebot der Fasten hat Erasmus wie Babelais viel zu sageu. Zwar will er nicht das Kind rait dem Bade ausschiitten, aber er will Maass uud Vernunft dabei angewendet wissen : " In Convivio profano non damno con- Btitationes eodesiae de ieiuniis ac delectum ciborum ; sed indico auperstitionem quorundam, qui his plus tribuunt quam oportet, ncgligentes eorum quae magis faciunt ad pietatem : damnoque eorum crudelitatem, qui haec exigunt ab his, a quibus eoclesiae mens non exigit (mit Anspielung auf seine eigene Constitution, welche die Fasten und den FischgenuHS nicht vertragen konnte) : item eorum praeposteram sanctimoniam, qui ex huiusmodi re- bus oontemnant proximum. ." Etwas energischer klingt schon der Angriff g^n die Speisevorschriften in Coronia Apologetica : " Porro non fit illic mentio de ieiunio^ ad quod nos hortatur evangelium et apostolicae litterae, sed de delectu ciborum, quem palam contemnit in evangelio Christus, nee raro damnant Pau- linae litterae : praesertim Judaicum est superstitiosura.^ Dicet aliquis : hoc est accusare pontificem Romanum, qui hoc prae- cipiat, quod damnat apostolus. Pontifex ipse declaret, quo animo iubeat, quod non exigit evangelium. . . .'' Aber seine wahre Uberzeugung erscheint wohl an Stellen, wie die folgende : "Cum ieiunio mihi nihil est n^otii. Sic enim me docuit Hieronymus non esse valetudinem atterendam ieiuniis " {Piet. Puer.)y und besonders ironisch in der IxOvo^ayia : " Telum ingens neoessitas, grave tormentum fames.''

Rabelais seinerseits hat sich durch die Fastengebote zu jener trefflichen Satire auf den mageren Kouig Quaresmeprenant

' t)berhaupt wirft er den Gesetzen der Juden vor, daas sie mehr die For- men, als den Inhalt des Heiligen pflegen : ** Sunt enim quaedam praescripta Jndaeis in lege, quae ngnifieant magis sanctimoniam quam praestant : quod genus sunt dies festi, sabbatismi, ieiunia, sacrificia.'' Seine Meinung ist: ''Miserioordiam yolui, et non sacrifidum, et scientiam Dei plus quam holo- caosta; . . . umbras amplectebantur, rem negligebant'^ (sc. Judaei). {Oonv, Edig,)

72 H. 8GHOENFELD.

(^' Qu. ne dSsigne pas ici, comme i rordiuaire, le mardi-gras, mais bien le car^me persoDoifi^. Jacob Bibliophile ") begeistem lasseDy '^ confalonnier (Fabnentrager) des Ichthyophages, pere et DourrissoD des medeeins, foisonnant en pardons, indulgenoes et stations : homme de bien, bon catholique et de grande devo- tion . . ." (IV, 29) ; " VoylS une estrange et monstrueuse mem- breure d'homme, si homme le doibs nommer " (IV, 32). Auch dieser unformliche, unnaturliche Faster ist dem Rabelais eine Ausgeburt der Antiphysis, der Unnatur, welehe die Bewunde- rungaller hirnlosen,vemunftberaubten Leuteerr^te, and damit ja kein Zweifel uber seine Meinung iibrig bliebe, verbrudert er den Quaresmeprenant mit den anderen Sohnen der Anti- physis, die er wohlgeoixlnet in Klassen teilt : " les Matagotz, Cagotz et Papelars: les Maniacles Pistolets, les Demoniacles Calvins, imposteurs de Greneve ; les enraigfe Putherbes, . . Ca- phars . . Cannibales, et autres monstres difformes et oontrefaits, en despit de nature (Schluss, IV, 32 ; cf. Anm. bei Rath^ry). Man ersieht aus diesen wenigen Belegen, die sich leicht vervielfaltigen liessen, dass die Analogien in der Bekam- pfung and Verspottung jener Eiurichtungen, die der pfiiffische Gregner des Erasmus zu Ketzereien stempeln will,* ihrem Wesen, wenn nieht ihrer Form nach so auffallend sind, dass teils die Geistesverwandtsehaft beider Manner in der Keli- gionsanschauung, teils die erasmisciie Quelle bei Rabelais sich von selbst aufdrangt. Auch die Mease gilt beiden Mannern durchaus nicht als ein weseutlicher uud notwendiger Be- standteil der Religion. Erasmus halt die Meinung derer fiir irrig, " qui se non credant esse Christianos, nisi quotidie Mis- sam, ut appellant, audierint." Zwar verdammt er die Ein- richtung nicht uiiter allem Umstanden : '' Horum institutum equidem non damno: praesertim in his, qui abundant otio, quive totos dies occupantur profanis negotiis. Tantum illos non approbo, qui superstitiose sibi persuaserunt, diem fore parum faustum, nisi fuerint eum auspicati a Missa : et statim

^"Jactat ac vociferatur, in libello oolloqaiorom quatoor ease Iocs plus* qaam haeretica: de uu oamium, ei ieiunio; de induigentiU, ac de voU*/* (Cbroitts /Ipo/opefica.)

RABELAIS UND EKASMUS. 73

a sacro se conferuDt vel ad Degotiationem, vel ad praedam, vel ad aalam : ubi, si, quod per fes nefasque geFiint, suooes- sent, Missae imputant " (Piet. Puer.).

Rabelais seinerseits hat die Messe aus seinem Christentum, soweit es aus seinem Roman hervorgeht, praktisch ausge- schlossen. " Rabelais ist ferner ein Verachter der Messe. So oft Gargantua oder Pantagruel in ernsten, gottesdienstlichen Verrichtungen erscheinen, vor der Schlacht, nach gewonnenem Si^e, vor Antritt der Seereise ist von der Messe keine Rede und hat die religiose Feier ganz protestantischen Anstrich." (Birch-H. I, 263-264.)

Auch das ubermassige, sinnlose Abbeten von unzahligen Grebeten weisen Beide zuriick : "Praestat enim pauca avide [mit Inbrunst] dicere, quam multa cum taedio devorare" {Oonv, Rdig,); und in der Piet. puejnlis: "Oro, sed cogita- tione magiB, quam strepitu labiorura. . . . Quod si sensero vagari cogitationem, lego psalmos aliquot, aut aliud quippiam pium, quod animum ab evagando cohibeat."

Rabelais lasst den Gargantua, der nicht schlafen kann, durch das Ableiern von Grel)eten einschlafem und zwar durch Bruder Jean, der ehrlich bekeunt : " Je ne dors jamais bien k mon aise sinon quand je suis au sermon, ou quand je prie Dieu. Je vous supplie, commen9ons vous et moy les sept pseaumes,^ pour voir si tantost ne serez eudormy." L'inven- tion pleut tres bien k Gargantua. Et commencans le premier peeaume, sus le point de becUi quorum s'endormirent et Fun et Pautre (I, 41). Unter seinen seholastischen Lehrern pflegte Grargantua jeden Morgen in die Kirche zii gehen mit einem ungeheuren Brevier, horte dort an die 26-30 Messen : " in- zwisehen kam sein Horasbeter, verquaselt wie einWiedehopf — mit dem mammelt'er all sein Kyrieleisli imd kornt' sie so sorg- sam aus, dass auch nicht ein einigs Samlein davon zur Erde fiel. . . . Mit einem grossen Prast Paternoster ging er im Kloster, im Kreuzgang oder im Garten auf und ab imd betet

' Erasm. E. M, : " Giebt es wohl torichtere Menschen als jene Frommen, die durch Herbeten sieben bestimmter Psalmenverse das Beich Gottes za erUngen hofien." . • • «

74 H. SCHOENFELD.

ihrer mehr denn sechzehn Klausner an den Fingern herunter '^ (I, 21) (Birch-H. I, 234, nach Regis).

Aber das sei eben der Fluch des durch den Formen- und Formelnkram verderbten Scholasticismus, dass das Wesen der Religion in den Formen gesucht wird statt in dem Greist.^ Nicht der fallt z. B. von dem Franziscanerorden ab, der ein lasterhafles I^eben fuhrt, sondem der, weleher das heilige Gewand abwirft {Exequiae Seraphicae) ; " in veste, cibo, pre- culis, caeterisque ceremoniis ponitis fiduciam, neglecto studio pietatis Evangelicae" (Miles et Garth,). **Itidem videmus, multos in tantum fidere oorporalibus caeremoniis, ut his freti negligant ea, quae sunt verae pietatis " {'IxOvo^ayia).^ Hier- fur bringt Erasmus manche anekdotenhafte Belege bei, unter anderen jene bekannte Anekdote von der Nonne, die Rabelais (III, 19) mit grossem Wohlgefallen verwendet und um einen Zug bereichert hat, dass ihr namlich nach der That von dem Monche in der Beichte die Busse auferlegt worden sei, nichts zu verraten. Mit der eben entwickelten erasmischen Idee schliesst das Kapitel in ernsthafter Weise ab : *' Je S9ay assez que toute moinerie moins crainct les commandemens de Dieu transgresser, que leurs statutz provinciaulx."

SCHLU88.

Das bisher Gebotene diirfte nicht nur die ideelle Wahlver- wandtschaft Beider, sondem auch die actuelle Beziehung des jiingeren Mannes zu seinem Meister erwiesen haben. Ihre

' Im E, M, wendet sich Er. mit Bitterkeit geg^n den starren Glauben ("Verum exstiterunt hoc saeculo quidam qui docent, hominem sola fide ioBtiiicari, nullo operom praesidio/' etc.), die als wesentliche Bestandteile der Kirche vorgeschriebenen ausseren und ausserlichen Formen: "Rnrsus audio videoque plurimos ease, qui in lodsy vestibuB, cibis, ieiuniis, gesticu- lationibufl, cantibus Bummam pietatis oonstituunt, et ex his prozimum indi- cant, contra praeoeptum evangelicum. Unde fit, ut, cum omnia referantur ad fidem et caritatem, harum rerum supenititione exstinguatur utrumque.'^

'Ibid. "Nunc praeter tot vestium praescripta et interdictas formas et colores aocessit capitis rasura eaque varia; ne commemorem interim con- feasionb onus .... aliaque permulta, quae faciunt, ut ex hac parte non pauUo commodior yideatur fuisse Judaeomm, quam Bostra conditio.''

RABELAIS UND ERASMU8. 75

weltbew^ende 6edeutuDg beruht in dem bewussten und beab- sichtigten Ziel, das sich Beide gestellt, namlich in der Buck- kehr zur Natur auf dem Grebiet aller meDschlichen Verricht- ungen und geistigen Bestrebungen. Hatte der Druck der fuhrenden Elemente in der damaligen Kirche die Mensch- heit im Laufe des Mittelalters der Natur entfremdet und im truben Spiegel finsterer Askese und haarspaltender Scholastik die physisehe Natur als ein Zerrbild des Paradieses, die menseh- liche Natur, falls sie sich ungezwungerer Heiterkeit, freier Forschung, uneingedammtem Denken hingab, als einen Abfall vom Glauben dargestellt, so fuhrten unsere beiden Humanisten den Gregenschlag, der aber auch die vielen Schaden und Verge- waltigungen der Veruunft, wie sie die deutsche und schweize- rische Reform zu Wege braehte, bitter aber heilsam traf. Am meisten kam der neue Greist den Universitaten zu Gute. Hatte sich in der Facultat der Artisten der Unterricht bisher nur um den scholastischen Streit der Realisten und Nominalisten gedreht, so befurwortet Erasmus wie Rabelais eine weite und weitherzige, undogmatische, unbeschrankte, eklektische Philo- sophic ; statt der barbarischen Schulpflege, bei der korperliche Zuchtigung eine grosse RoUe spielte, und der mittelalterlichen Vemachlassigung der Korperpfl^e, treten sie fur die Hu- manitat in der Schule ein, befarworten das Princip, dass nur in einem reinen Korper eine reine Seele wohnen konne. War die Sprachverderbnis bis zum aussersten gestiegen, das Lateinische entweder in sinnloser ciceronianischer Nachalimung starr ge- worden oder durch maasslose Licenz ausgeartet,^ so findet diese Barbarei ihre Racher in Rabelais, der den sprachverderbenden Limousiner geisselt, oder in Erasmus, der den Dunkelmann abthut, welcher ausschliesslich nach Cicero seine Phrasen drechselt. Drohte das Biichermaterial der Scholastik in der Absurditat, in die es am Schlusse der scholastischen Eutwick-

' Le latin ^tait comme une langue vivante dont chacun disposait IL son gr^ nsant ayec nne liberty sans limite du droit de fabriquer lee mots et de lea oonstmire IL volont^. Nul n'^galait le d^ain de nos docteurs poor la gram- maire et rosage, leur intrepidity k dire en latin ce que le latin n'avait jamais dit J.YAe Cleic, Hi8ioire liiiiraire, XXIV, p. 2eS.

76 H. SGHOENFELD.

luDg versunken war, AUes zu verdummen und das Denken zu

verkummern, so Hess der Eine in der Aufzahlang der Schatze

der Bibliothek von St.-Victor, dfer Andere in gelegentlichen

Bemerkungen iiber den * Froschteich des Duns Scotus ' seine

heilsame Satire spielen. War ferner das Grezank der Sehulen

unertraglich geworden, batten die Dialektiker und Redekiinst-

ler unter dem erstarrten Formelnkram den Inhalt und Greist

verloreu, so war es wieder Rabelais, der etwa in der Rede des

Janotusde Bragmardo (1, 18, 19) und der lacherliehen Zeichen-

casuistik (II, 18 ff.) die scholastische Sophisterei und sinnlose

Vielwisserei verspottet, dem Sinne nach ganz wie Erasmus, der

sich dariiber so iiussert : ^^ Mit diesem und zahllosem anderen

lappisehen Zeug haben sie ihren Kopf so voll gepfropft, dass

selbst Juppiters Gehirn nicht umfangreicher gewesen sein kann,

als er, um von Pallas entbunden zu werden, Vulcans Axt um

Hilfe anflehte. Selbst ich (sc. die Torheit) muss bisweilen da-

ruber lacben, wie sich die Gelehrien erst dann als vollkommen

ansehen, wenn sie ihr garstiges Kauderwelsch ganzlieh be-

herrschen und so confuses Zeug zusammenreden, dass hochstens

ein Verriickter sie verstehen kann."

Aus ausserlichen Griinden bleibt es mir versagt, an dieser

Stelle das gesammelte Material fiir ihre Beurteilung der Medi-

zin und der Arzte, gegen die sie nur ausserst selten satirisch

vorgehen, zu vergleichen. Aber audi hier sind die Analogien

auffallend, sowie in der Verspottung der Juristen ("qui jamais

n'entendirent la moindre loy des Pandectes," II, 10) und juris-

tischen Facultaten, in dcnen das canonische Recht alles iiber-

wucherte, der geistlichen G^richtsbarkcit, der Streitigkeiten,

welche die politische Unruhe und die ewigen Kri^e fordem

(" Sed aequumne tibi videtur, ut ob iurisconsultonim rixas

et contractuum moras totus orbis tantum perpetiatur mali,"

^IxOvo^ayla) ; denn wie die Barin durch vieles Lecken ihre

Jungen wachsen und sich entwickeln lasst, so auch die Juristen

ihre Streitigkeiten und Processe {Oeuvres, III, 42). — ludess

soil dieses interessante Feld fiir eine spatere Studie auf bewahrt

werden.

Hermann Schoenfeld.

IL— THE LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL.

Of the main streams of medieval poetry three were so seriously checked by the Renascence that they are only at the present day b^inning to flow again as literary influences. They are the Norse Edda, the German Heldensage, and the Celtic national cycle. From these abundant sources the literature of Europe during the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries drew but little.

Spenser and Shakespeare, Racine and Molidre, who all were sturdy robbers of old plots and incidents, we seldom find turning to the Middle Ages for material. Fashion and the times pointed to other springs, to the Greek and Latin, and then to the Hebrew classics. In the eighteenth century recourse was had to them still less than in the two preced- ing. When even Dante was unknown to most men and unappreciated by all, it could not be expected that people of "sensibility^' should relish the barbaric utterances of our northern fathers. And indeed, considering how recent has been the work of editing and translating the manuscripts containing these three stupendous bodies of poetry, we cannot censure a Voltaire or a Dryden for neglecting them, but can only wonder what the accomplished versifiers of their times would have achieved with this material, so much more sug- gestive than any they employed. Probably nothing of note, for it has been reserved to our century to find itself in sym- pathy with the eleventh, twelfth, thirteenth, and early four- teenth. These centuries, the heart of the Middle Ages, were an epoch of unconscious self-development, an epoch of bold experimentation and independent working-out of native ideas. Shut off from the quarries of the past by an abyss of ignorance, the thinkers of that day built on such foundations as they could themselves construct. They possessed that lightness of fancy, that brilliant self-assertion, which are

77

78 QEOROE M. HARPER.

among the marks of young creative genius in the full con- sciousness of its strength and liberty. Apart from their deference to the precepts of Aristotle, whom only the most learned even half understood, they were bound to no such distinct traditions in philosophy, religion, political economy, poetics, and all other lines of intellectual eflTort as were their successors of the next age. They were not characterized by great respect for authority, since authorities were few and obscurely comprehended. They were not much given to dogmatic asser- tion. The centuries of creed-making and creed-imposing pre- ceded and followed this central period of the Middle Ages, w^hich was an ejwch rather of ready and fanciful invention, of keen delight in artistic construction, of liberty to think. It is a mark of wonderful vigor and elasticity that Western Christendom, while still under the influence of Germanic and Celtic paganism, could assimilate so much as it did of two such diverse and alien matters as the learning of the Greeks and of the Arabs. And this, during the Crusades, was quickly and gaily accomplished. The grotesqueness of medieval art, so often patronizingly alluded to by eighteenth-century writers and even by Goethe, is but evidence of that exuberant and unreflecting vitality.

This abundance of life, this zest in expression, manifested themselves in all sorts of wayward fashions, very distasteful to the nrore methodical people of the Renascence. In religion they gave birth to a multitude of lK)ld inventions, to an extra- ordinary development of legends and heresies and cathedrals and pious orders. In philosophy the venturesome mysticism of Eckart, Tauler, and Suso was tolerated side by side with the orthodox system of Thomas Aquinas, anchored to authority at every point; and both in turn left room for the still barer and safer scholasticism of Raymond Lully, who taught how to solve all the problems of logic and metaphysics by means of a card- board machine. In literature — but here all was invention, and seldom has poetry been so truly a liberal art. No bonds had yet been laid on the creative instinct, and even theology, as we have seen, had not yet entered the prison-house of either Roman

LEGEND OF THE HOLY OBAIL. 79

or Protestant dogmatism. Religious and poetical expression were still unsevered, as the feelings which prompt them fre- quently are ; they are inseparable in Dante, in Saint Francis of Assisi, in Saint Catherine of Siena. It is in speaking of this period and of medieval literature that Renan eloquently ex- claims : Qui osera dire oil est ici-bas la limite de la raison et du songe? Lequel vaut mieux des instincts imaginatifs de I'homme ou d'une orthodoxie etroite qui pretend rester sensee * en parlant des choses divines ? Pour m'oi je preffere la franche mythologie, avec ses ^garements, a une thfiologie si mesquine, si vulgaire, si incolore, que ce serait faire injure a Dieu de croire qu'apr^ avoir fait le monde visible si beau, il eUt fait le monde invisible si platement raisonnable.

The three streams of poetry which the diverting influence of classical models caused to dwindle for four hundred years and almost disappear have one common feature : they all arise in the remote fastnesses of heathen antiquity, they are all tinged with the dark waters of Druidical or Northern lore. The first of them, the Norse anthology — for the Edda songs can hardly be more than fragments of the body of mythology to which they bear witness — is of greater value than either of the others, both intrinsically and for purposes of historical science, com- prising the earliest and most complete record we possess of the religious system of the primitive Teutonic race. But the day of renewed influence for the Edda is only just dawning, despite the labors of such popular interpreters as Karl Simrock and William Morris.

Celtic literature, however, has been hitherto the strongest of these influencing streams. Through filtration, when it was first put into writing, through translation, both medieval and modem, through an unperceived power of suggestion in all ages, it has affected European poetry from the Irish coast to the shores of the Euxine and from Norway to Spain. There has been forever in it a subtle sympathetic api)eal to the finer poetic sense ; not the sense which Flomer satisfies ^vith his cleat^ beautiifbl, vigorous action, nor that which the Song of Sdn^

80 GEORGE M. HARPER.

soothes with its languorous sweetness, but the nerve that

vibrates to those delicate, fleeting touches which occasionally

startle and hold us spell-bound in English poetry as nowhere

else. We hear this appeal in the unexpected change from the

tempestuous workings of the first act of Macbeth to the soft

breath of summer evening, when Duncan, unconscious of his

doom, casting an untroubled eye up to the heavens, says to

Banquo :

*'This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself Unto our gentle senses."

and Banquo answers :

''This guest of summer, The temple-haunting martlet, does approve, 67 his loved mnnsionrj, that the heaven's breath Smells wooinglj here : no juttj, frieze, Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle : Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed, The air is delicate."

We hear it again, but how changed, in Wordsworth's

" Old, unhappy far-off things, And battles long ago."

And the same strain, just as melancholy, just as suggestive, just as haunting, with the same intimate apprehension of the workings of nature and the same plaintive yet distinct utter- ance, is audible in the ancient ballad of The Twa Oorbiea. The one to the other says of the new slain knight, deserted by his false lady fair :

" Ye'll sit on his white hause bane. And I'll pike out his bonny blue een : Wi' ae lock o* his gowden hair, We'll theek our nest when it grows bare."

The character of the Celts, proud and vindictive, shy and elusive, and strangely moved at times with a gay melancholy, 10 plainly discoverable in these passages. Irish wit and Scot*

LEGEND OF THE HOLY ORAIL. 81

tish music have this character, and I think the Highlander and the Breton exhibit it in their lives and speech. The feel- ing of interpenetration with external things, the passion for beauty which excludes all grossness, the despair of perfection which forbids the commonplace, the immanent persuasion of natural magic — these, then, are some of the marks of that Celtic spirit which with fairy lightness winged its unsubstan- tial way so fast into men's hearts, eight hundred years ago. No poetical influence was at that time half so widespread as that which started from Wales. In this fact there is a touch- ing vindication of the Celtic race, a recomi^ense to it, in the realm of mind, for its long-drawn material defeat.

The consciousness of this defeat can never have been more bitter than at the end of the eleventh century, when the Nor- man barons, with appetites whetted in Teutonic England, burst through the barriers of the Welsh mountains and all but com- pleted the subjugation of that unhappy remnant whom Saxon and Dane had spared. The victory of their Saxon conquerors, six hundred years before, had been to the Celts at first like the going down of the world. It had seemed as if their own higher civilization, their new and enthusiastically entertained Christianity ought to save them. But nothing had availed. Accompanying this overthrow, and doubtless to console them for it, there was a revival of national poetry in the sixth cen- tury, of which many scattered traces have come down to us. Then succeeded an era which, according to the prevailing opinion, was one of rapid extinction. We frequently read of conquered races being exterminated, and it is generally stated that few if any Britons were left in England proper by the time of the Norman invasion ; but there is a great deal of analogy, besides inherent improbability, against that conclu- sion and in favor of the opinion that there is still a consider- able element of Celtic blood in the so-called Anglo-Saxon race, due to admixture before and during the eleventh century. But however that may be, there were free Celts in Wales at the 6

92 GEOBOE M. HARPER.

beginning of Norman rule, and in a little more than a hun- dred years they had lost their independence.

And now, at the beginning of the twelfth century, how stood the Celtic world ? Whether in Brittany, Cornwall, Wales, Ire- land, Scotland, or the Western Isles, they were a crushed, divided, and one would suppose humiliated race. But though politically almost annihilated, they were by no means humble. They had two titles, they thought, to glory. They remembered that they were the original possessors of the land. Their sense of antiquity was strengthened by a revival, in noble song, of the old heathen mythology, just as it had been revived in the days of Taliesin, after the Saxon conquest. Secondly, they were conscious of being older as a Christian people than either Saxons or Nor- mans. They claimed an authority independent of Rome, or at least the original Irish church had done so, centuries before, and we may be sure the contention was remembered now. The Irish church in days gone by had kept alive the purest form of Christianity, and maintained the highest scholarship in Europe. It had been the great missionary and educational fountain. The tendency of the Celts in Great Britain and Ireland has at all times been towards separation from the type of worship and church government prevailing in England.

It was aft«r a century of misfortune, when only their faith in their destiny and their consciousness of their distinction remained, that the Celtic spirit asserted itself. Then was manifested the power of a national ideal. To find courage for the losing struggle in which they were engaged, and espe- cially to console themselves in the day of final disaster, they turned again to the songs of their fathers. As a result, not only had the Welsh themselves begun to see new meanings in their old poetry, but the stories of their heroes were brought to the attention of the outside world. Somewhere between 1136 and 1150 Geoffrey of Monmouth wrote his Historia Britonum, a l^endary account of the supposed early kings of Britain, con- taining the prophecies of Merlin, the record of "the princes whose reign had preceded the birth of Jesus Christ, and of

LEGEND OF THE HOLT GBAIL. 83

Arthur and the princes who had reigned in Britain since the incarnation." Geoffrey declared that his book was an exact translation of a book in Celtic which Walter, archdeacon of Oxford, had brought into £ngland from Brittany. The French critic Paulin Paris maintains that the original was more proba- bly the Chronicle of Nennius, a Latin work of the ninth cen- tury ; but in either case it was the main source of what English writers of the twelfth century, such as Henry of Huntingdon and William of Malmsbury, knew concerning the legendary history of the Celts. The Histoid Britonum speedily attained a world-wide circulation, and meanwhile the task of arousing Celtic resistance went steadily on in Wales.

The reigns of the two Llewellyns, extending from 1 1 95 to 1283, were marked by such an outburst of patriotic song as can be paralleled only by the Hebrew poetry of the exile. National heroes were brought to life again and warlike achievements of the great dead kings were invented with a boldness justified by the cause, — and by the result, for this fervor was not ineffec- tual ; the invaders discovered an unexpected resistance and were held at bay until the policy and military prowess of Edward the First of England compelled an honorable sub- mission. In their zeal to inspire courage by means of heroic memories from a distant past, the bards of the thirteenth cen- tury revived what was left in the Welsh mind of Druidical superstition. They often gave to their own exciting compo- sitions the authority of poets belonging to the older generation, pretending to have found ancient books or to have received occult traditions. " Mysterious prophecies," says J. R. Green, "floated from lip to lip, till the name of Merlin was heard along the Seine and the Rhine. Medrawd and Arthur would appear once more on earth to fight over again the fatal battle of Camlan. The last conqueror of the Celtic race, Cadwallon, still lived to combat for his people. The supposed verses of Taliesin expressed the undying hope of a restoration of the Cymry." Augustin Thierry remarks (Histoire de la OonquMe de PAngleterre): "The reputation of the Welsh for prophecy

84 GEORGE M. HARPER.

in the Middle Ages came from their stubbornDess in a£5rming the future of their raca"

It will never be known how much of this poetry Mras really ancient and how much pure forgery. It may ire doubted whether in those exciting times the bards themselves knew. All France and England became acquainted with the Welsh and Breton legends and predictions, largely through Greoffrey of Monmouth's work, which he revised and augmented from time to time, and of which manuscripts were numerous. The Historia Bntonum, whether based on a Breton or a Latin book, derived its material ultimately from Armorican laysand legends. The encounter of Breton and Welsh stories and the harmony discovered between them concerning events supposed to have happened on British soil doubtless confirmed Geoffrey and others in a belief that their substance was historically true, and gave an impulse to further composition. The story of Arthur and his Round Table was accepted with especial readiness. " Charlemagne and Alexander, the sagas of Teutonic tribes, the tale of Imperial Rome itself, though still affording subject matter to the wandering jongleur or monkish annalist, paled before the fame of the British King. The instinct which led the twelfth and thirteenth centuries thus to place the Arthurian story above all others was a true one. It was charged with the spirit of romance, and they were pre-eminently the ages of the romantic temper."*

With characteristic levity the Welsh genius had failed to localize the legends. There was nothing in them to disturb the conquerors, who were charmed, rather, by their tender melancholy. '* It is by this trait of idealism and universality," says M. Renan, " that the story of Arthur won such astonish- ing vogue throughout the whole world." So from this inward cause, no doubt, but also from the fact that Brittany too was Celtic and both Brittany aud Wales were contiguous to great nations where French was the language of at least the upper

»Nutt: The Legend of the Holy Qrail, p. 229. •

LEGEND OF THE HOLY GBAIL. 85

classes^ the body of Celtic legend was broken up and carried all over Western Europe with amazing rapidity. Thus from about 1145, when Geoffrey of Monmouth first opened the door, it was not a generation until this legendary matter was incor- porated in all the romantic poetry of Christendom, and by the end of the century the assimilation was complete. The quick- ness and thoroughness of this absorption will be apparent later, when I shall present a list of the versions still extant of one story for which a Celtic origin is claimed.

It is only within the last sixty years that the vast body of romance which goes under the name of the Legend of the Holy Grail has been made the subject either of critical analysis or of literary reconstruction. Its earliest students suffered for lack of complete texts. Not all of the manuscripts up to that time discovered were yet available. Many of the conclusions reached, while testifying to great acumen, have been one afler another proved inconsistent with new-found facts, and thus one of the most fascinating of poetical subjects has, from its difficulty^ become scarcely less alluring as a field of scholarship. Several recent publications in particular have rendered untenable the views of many authorities still referred to, and have opened long reaches of speculation yet untrodden.

The latest stage of discussion began with the appearance of Birch-Hirschfeld's Die Sage vom Gral, in 1877 ; and the most recent contributions to it include, besides articles in specialist periodicals, the searching and all-embracing work of Alfred Nutt in the publications of the Folk-lore Society of England,* and the studies of the Oxford profeasor of Celtic'

The appearance of so much new and valuable information reversing previous conceptions of the legend, justifies an attempt

* " Mabinogion Studies," by Alfred Nutt, in vol. V of The Folk-lore Record, London, 1882. "The Aryan Expulsion and Betum Formula Among the Celts," in vol. IV of The Folklore Record^ London ; "Studies on the L^^nd of the Holy Grail," in the publications of the Folk-lore Society, London, 1888.

' Studies in the Arthwrian Legend, by John Rh^s, M. A., Fellow of Jesos College and Professor of Celtic in the University of Oxford. Published at the Clarendon Press, 1891.

86 GEORGE M. HARPER.

to present synthetically the history of its origin, spread, and influence. The accounts given in many popular works are seriously misleading. For instance, the article in the Encydo^ paedia Britannica, ninth edition, by Thomas Arnold, presents an outline which was based largely on the edition of 1876 of Paulin Fsiria' Les Romans de la Table Ronde, and is in accord- ance with the view commonly entertained by all except the most recent students of the subject. It represents well enough the results of investigation prior to the last fifteen years. According to it *' The * Saint Greal ' was the name given — if not originally, yet very soon afl«r the conception was started — to the dish, or shallow bowl (in French escuelU) from which Jesus Christ was said to have eaten the paschal lamb on the evening of the Last Supper with his disciples. In the French prose romance of the Saint Gh'aaJ, it is said that Joseph of Arimathea, having obtained leave from Pilate to take down the body of Jesus from the cross, proceeded first to the upper room where the supper was held and found there this vessel ; then as he took down the Lord's dead body, he received into the vessel many drops of blood which iasued from the still open wounds in his feet, hands, and side. . . . According to Catholic theology, where the body or the blood of Christ is, there, by virtue of the hypostatic union, are His soul and His divinity." It is then shown that the legend declares this holy vessel to have been brought to England and treasured there by the descendants of Joseph of Arimathea, who established the royal line of Britain. The presence of the vessel in the British Church sanctioned the latter's existence and gave vir- tue to its eucharist. The writer condenses Paulin Paris' theory of the origin of the legend as follows : " The original concep- tion came from some Welsh monk or hermit who lived early in the eighth century; its guiding and essential import was aTi assertion for the British Church of an independent deriva- tion of its Christianity direct from Palestine, and not through Rome ; the conception was embodied in a book, called lAber Gradalis or de Gradali; this book was kept in abeyance by

LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL. 8T

the British clergy for more than three hundred years, from a fear lest it should bring them into collision with the hierarchy and make their orthodoxy suspected ; it came to be known and read in the second half of the twelfth century ; a French poet, Robert de Boron, who probably had not seen the book, but received information about it, was the first to embody the con- ception in a vernacular literary form by writing his poem of Josephe d^Arimath^e ; and after Boron, Walter Map and others came into the field/' Mr. Arnold himself inclines to think that Walter Map, about 1170-1180, connected the story of Joseph of Arimathea "with the Grail l^end and both with Arthur;" and accepts Paulin Paris' now exploded derivation of the word Graal, to the eflfect that "graal is a corruption of gradale or graduale, the Latin name for a liturgical collection of psalms and texts of scripture, so-called ^ quod in gradibus canitur,' as the priest is passing from the epistle to the gospel side of the altar. The author of the Graal conception meant by graal, or graduale, not the sacred disli (escuelle), but the mysterious book ... in which he finds the history of the escuelle."

The romances, in prose and verse, which constitute the Grail cycle and which were written between the appearance of the Hidoria Britonum and the death of Wolfram von Eschenbach, about 1225, are so numerous, so long, so intricate, and so simi- lar to each other in detail and general character, that it is no wonder there has been confusion ; and I am far from thinking that anything like an equilibrium of opinion concerning their order of creation is likely to be established soon. Enough has been said to account for the suddenness of the phenomena — a dozen or more romances springing up within a half century, in three, or perhaps five languages. I propose further to exhibit, with incidental criticisms, the result of the latest work, present- ing first the legend in synthetic form.

Now when the products of recent inquir}' are taken and weighed, the statement of this interesting case must be some- what as follows : There existed among the Celts from pre-

88 GEORGE M. HARPER.

Christian times a foIk-tale which may be called the Great Fool story^ and which has been found, in some shape or other, among nearly all the peoples of Aryan race. The hero is a boy, usu- ally a young prince, bom, or at least brought up, in a wilder- ness, to escape the jealousy of his dead father's rival. In some cases his father was a great hero, in others a god, and generally there have been signs and wonders indicating that the boy will grow to be a mighty warrior. He is reared by his anxious mother in innocence of worldly ways, and consequently, though powerful and courageous, appears stupid beyond measure. His chief characteristics are his simplicity, strength, boldness, awk- wardness, chastity, and ignorance. By some chance, he gains knowledge of the outer world, and hastens headlong from the sheltering forest and his protesting mother. In the world, none is braver or clumsier than he, and his prowess brings him in contact with the great of the earth and with monsters. Afler slaying dragons and winning battles he returns to his mother and comes back again into his rights.

This outline is what has been termed the Aryan Expulsion and Return Formula.^ Mr. Nutt claims to have found eight stories built on this model in Celtic literature alone. And he does not include the Breton tales of Morvan lez Breiz and Peronnik (although they are of the same character), because their originality has been called in question.

We know also that the Welsh possessed from time imme- morial a body of legend with Arthur for its centre. Whether or not the basis of this tradition was to any considerable extent historical, the whole matter is undoubtedly Celtic. Thirdly, there exist in Irish and Gaelic folklore many references to a talismanic spear and cup, the former representing the powers of destruction, the latter the powers of healing. In Welsh literature the vessel is a magic cauldron which brings to life dead bodies that have been thrown into it. There is no longer much question of the pagan mythological origin of all these

* 8ee yon Hahn's Ariache Au$9etgung und Ruckkehr Formd.

LEGEND OF THE HOLY ORAIL. 89

stories. By some scholars they are even connected with other more primitive legends of Eastern origin and held to have been originally part of an ancient nature-worship.

Sensible of their mystery and antiquity, and not too careful to offer an explanation of their meaning, the Welsh bards dur- ing the Norman conquest revived these slumbering traditions, no doubt largely for the patriotic reasons I have mentioned. One is tempted to see in the story of the Great Fool, who suffers contumely for a season, only to triumph eventually, one of those political prophecies with which the bards were wont to stir up resistance to the invader.

There are three members of the Grail cycle of romances which bear a striking similarity to each other, and which have not been proved to be derived directly from any known source or to have been entirely modelled on one another, and which, in spite of many efforts to show that they are later, appear all to have originated in the latter part of the twelfth century. They have each been held to be the earliest treatment of the subject which has come down to us. They all of them pre-suppose an acquaintance with the three traditions just mentioned, and thus the opinion is justified that some poet, now forever unknown, worked this mythological material into a romance which either directly or indirectly supplied three men of three different nations with the thread of three closely-related stories. These stories are that part of the Oonte du Graal composed by Chrestien de Troyes, about 1190, in French; the English metrical romance, Sir Perceval^ found in the Thornton manu- script ; and the Welsh mabinogi, or prose romance, PereduVj the Son oflhrawc. The Thornton Sir Perceval, a fine old poem in racy English, is accessible in the publications of the Camden Society, for which it was edited by Halliwell. The Peredur is also accessible to English readers in Jjady Charlotte Guest's MabinogUm.

I will now give a summary of Chrestien's poem, which has never been translated into Euglish. The Knight Bliocadrans is slain at a tournament given by the King of Wales and

90 GEOBOE M. HABPEB.

Cornwall. During his absence his wife has borne a son, Per- ceval, whom, on hearing the sad news, she takes with her to the Waste Forest. She warns him, to preserve him from his fether's fate, that men in iron armor are devils ; but one day, in the joyous springtime, he comes running home to say he has met five knights, and that they are angels and not devils. He is determined to follow these shining creatures. She pleads with him in vain. He has learned from his new acquaint- ances that knighthood may be won from King Arthur. So, in despair, she makes him a rude dress of leather and gives him some curious and enigmatical advice, naqiely, that if he meets a maiden he is to take her ring and girdle, if he can, and kiss her if she is willing. He fares forth boldly, leaving his mother in a swoon, and the first of his adventures is with a maiden whom he discovers in a tent, and from whom he wrests kisses, ring, and girdle, as advised. Coming to Arthur's court, he bears himself bravely, but boorishly, and is accounted a fool for his pains. He sallies out, however, in pursuit of a Red Knight who has insulted the Queen. After slaying the Red Knight, whose armor he dons and whose steed he mounts, Perceval comes to the castle of an old knight, Gonemans, who teaches him the arts and manners of a gentleman warrior, coun- selling him especially not to be too quick to ask and answer questions. After a series of adventures and a love passage with Blanchefleur, Gonemans' niece, who dwells in a castle a day's journey further on, he sets forth to seek his mother. But he has scarcely departed when he meets two men fishing from a boat in a river. One of them directs him to his own castle, whither Perceval goes alone and with some misgiving, as it is hard to find. Suddenly it rises before him. He is courteously received, clothed in scarlet, and led into a great hall, where an old man lies upon a couch l)efore a fire, with four hundred men about him. A young man enters with a sword, on which is written that it will break only in one peril, and that its maker alone knows. The old man gives it to Perceval, as a guerdon from a fair lady, his niece. Another

LEGEND OF THE HOLY QRAIL. 91

attendant now advances with a bleeding lance. Two other men then, enter with candlesticks, and a maiden accompanies them, bearing a shining graal. Another maiden carries a plate. Though all these objects are borne past him, Perceval essays not to ask concerning them, remembering Gonemans' advice. Supper is served, the graal re-enters, and Perceval still for- bears to ask. After supper he is shown to his chamber.

On the morrow he finds the castle deserted and silent, and his horse waiting for him already saddled. When he rides out over the drawbridge the portcullis closes so suddenly that they are almost caught. On his journey that day he encounters a maiden mourning over a dead knight. When she hears his story she tells him that the fisher and the old man on the couch were the same ; that he often fished, to forget the pain of a spear-thrust through the thighs from which he suffered, and that from this he was called the Fisher King. She asks Perceval his own name. He is ignorant of it, but she tells him he is Perceval le Gallois and should be called Perceval the Caitiff, for that if he had asked the meaning of the lance, the grdoly and the plate, his question would have brought health to the king and other benefits. After conducting him- self nobly in many more adventures, which are related with great breadth of detail, Perceval rejoins Arthur's court at Carlion (Caerleon), and is there again reproached for his back- wardness in not asking the desired questions. This time his accuser is a damsel fouler to view than anything imaginable outside hell, and she comes riding into court on a yellow mule. If he had asked, the King would have I'ecovered and reigned in peace ; but now slaughter and disgrace will come upon the land, maidens will suffer shame, widows and orphans will increase, and many good knights will lose their lives.

A long section of the poem is here devoted to the career of Grauwain, a knight of Arthur's court, who finally goes forth in search of the bleeding lance. Meanwhile Perceval, who has wandered to and fro on the earth for five years, doing valiant service as a knight, but forgetful of God in his heart, meetA,

94 GBOBGE M. HARPEB.

eyed, blue-cloaked wanderer, of the Heldensage, the Odin of the Edda ; the serpent and ring seem unmistakably related to the Dragon guarding the Nibelungen ring, which conferred wealth upon its possessor ; the beautiful daughter bears a fainter resemblance to Brunhilde, and Peredur, not only here, but in many other passages in the Celtic cycle, is closely analogous to Si^fried. But this ought not to surprise any one who had read attentively the story of Young Perceval and his mother in the Forest, which already suggests the Homy Si^fried of German poetry. There is in the mabinogi, moreover, a sword- test similar to that imposed upon the Volsung hero. Peredur is challenged to try his strength by cutting through an iron staple. He twice partially succeeds, but the severed fragments jump together again. The third time they do not unite. Com- pare in the Elder Edda the song of Sigurd (Si^fried) the Slayer of Fafnir, '* Signrdharkvidha Fafnisbana onnur," and its repetition in the Prose Edda.

It will be seen later that the Knights of the Grail, after eating of the food prepared by the holy vessel, became filled with more than human knowledge. Thus to Adam and Eve came knowledge through eating, and thus Siegfried, after tast- ing the Dragon's blood, had power to understand the speech of birds.

Apart from these marks of antiquity, there is something in the style of the mabinogi which stamps it as unquestionably Celtic in substance, if not in original conception. The follow- ing passage is notably delicate, quivering with sensitiveness to the impressions made by nature: ''And he came towards a valley, through which ran a river; and the borders of the valley were wooded, and on each side of the river were level meadows. And on one side of the river he saw a fiiock of white sheep, and on the other a flock of black sheep. And whenever one of the wliite sheep bleated, one of the black sheep would cross over and become white ; and when one of the black sheep bleated, one of the white sheep would cross over, and become black. And he saw a tall tree by the side

LEGEND OF THE HOLY GKAIL. 96

of the river, one-half of which was in flames from the root to the top, and the other half was green and in full leaf. And nigh thereto he saw a youth sitting upon a mound, and two greyhounds, white-breasted and spotted, in leashes, lying by his side. And certain was he that he had never seen a youth of so royal a bearing as he. And in the wood opposite he heard hounds raising a herd of deer. And Peredur saluted the youth, and the youth greeted him in turn."

Whichever of these three versions may be the oldest, and no order of priority has yet been established, it seems clear that in some such shape as they present them the germs of the Legend of the Holy Grail ai*e found. This is proved by the immaturity of the ancient elements that occur in them (the Young Perceval story, hints of the Grail, allusions to Arthur). No one would have written thus vaguely who had before him detailed accounts such as the Queste and Robert de Borron's trilogy, which Birch-Hirschfeld reckons as the earliest exist- ing members of the cycle. Moreover, the mabinogi, the Thornton Sir Perceval^ and Chrestien's poem are naive crea- tions, very simple and antique in spirit, as compared with the other romances, which are in a tone of highly developed chivalry.

It is probable that some Norman-English compiler, during the time of interest in Welsh affairs under Henry the Second, introduced the story to the French-reading world in a version which we do not possess. This version Chrestieu and the authors of the mabinogi and of Sir Perceval used as the chief basis for their own. There may indeed have been also an independent Latin version, as maintained by the medieval romance-writers themselves. The main feature of this origi- nal was not the graaly for neither the English nor the Welsh version directly mentions such a thing; it is simply the old and widespread folk-tale of the Great Fool, derived through Celtic tradition and bearing traces of its passage. There are talismans, to be sure, and there are Arthur and his court, but these features, while likewise Celtic, are evidently not the core

96 GEORGE M. HARPER.

of the romance as thus far developed. The talismans, indeed, are not mentioned in the English Sir Perceval,

Up to this time there has been no evidence that any Christian symbolical meaning was attached to the graalj beyond the fact that Perceval, as directed by the holy hermit, exi)ected to obtain a spiritual benefit if he discovered it and the lance and asked concerning them. They are invariably spoken of with awe and veneration, but there is still a vast difference between this tone and the accents of purely Christian devotion with which readers of monkish legends are familiar. It is ix)ssible to discern a general reference to the crusades, but so indefinite that the ad- vocates of a classical origin for these romances (and I believe there are two such advocates, the authors of the article " Romance " in the Encydopaidia Briiannica) might as easily discover allusions to the Quest of the Golden Fleece.

It is at this stage of development that the legend is released from its local and national limitations and begins its progress around the world. Just what Chrestien understood bv the word gi'aal is not clear, but he evidently felt that there was in it a mysterious im|H)rt, and no doubt would have developed his idea much further if he had lived to complete his poem. That he had no precise conception of its meaning and yet wished to appear to have, is evident from his ecjuivocal allusions to it.

The meaning of the word graal has been the subject of much discussion. The romance writers themselves derived it from the French verb a</rier, ' to please,' or directly from the Latin adjective grcUvSy and frequently spelled it griaus. It seems to me that their allusions to this etymology are not merely in the nature of puns, but were intended seriously ; it is thus plain that they did not know the real meaning of the word. It is in fact from the Low Latin gradale, from a diminutive, crateUa^ of the Latin cratera, sometimes crater ra, Greek Kparrjp or Kparrjpia, ' a mixing-bowl.' There is no reason whatever for accepting the explanation, so often put forward, that san great is derived from sang real, the royal blood. For one thing, the word graal occurs too often and too early out of connection

LEGEND OP THE HOLY QRAIL. 97

with the aan. A most interesting, but somewhat frail suppo- sition, is that which connects gradale, ' a bowl/ with gradale or gt'oduale, 'a mass-book' containing responses for the priest or choir in ^adibus. Paulin Paris, whose acceptance of this view is responsible for its general adoption, bases his theory on the following ])assage from the chronicle of Helinandus, a Cis- tercian monk in the abbey of Froidmond, in the diocese of Beauvais. The chronicle runs down to 1209 and must there- fore have been completed not earlier than that year: Anno 717. Hoc tempore^ cuidani eremitae monstrata est mirabilisquaedam visio per Angelum, de sancto Josepho, decurione nobili, qui <x)rpus Domini deposuit de cruce ; et de catino illo vel parop- side in quo Dominus coenavit cum discipulis suis ; de qua ab •eodem eremita descripta est historia quae dicitur Gradal. Gra- dalis autem vel Gradale dicitur gal lied scutella lata et aliquant- ulum profunda in qua pretiosae dapes, cum suo jure (in their juice) divitibus solent apponi, et dicitur nomine Qraal. , . Hanc historiam latind scriptam invenire non potui ; sed tantum gallic^ scripta habetur a quibusdam proceribus; nee facile, ut iiiunt, tota inveniri potest. Hanc autem nondum potui ad le- gendum sedulo ab aliquo impetrare.*

Chrestien's poem contains 10,601 verses. It was continued to verse 34,934 by Gautier de Doulens, who probably took up the work soon after Chrestien's death. In his portion very little light is thrown upon the meaning and origin of the grcuil, which, however, has now become manifestly the central feature of the poem. We know nothing about this Gautier except what the manuscripts of his poem themselves tell us, and they merely declare that he was its author, in the following passage, verses 33,755-8 (Potvin's edition) :

Gautiers de Doulens, qui Testore, No6 a mis avant en memore, dist et conte que PerchevaiiM li bons chevaliers, li loiaus.

* For a more minute account of what has been written about the etjmologf 'Of the word graal, see Skeat's preface, p. xxxvi, to the Early English Text 'Society's edition of Joteph of Arimathie.

98 GEORGE M. HARPER.

Doulens is near Amiens, aud the dialect is Pieard. The Oonte du Graal had other coutiuuators, but they were considerably later (1216-1225), and there are passages even in the earlier portions, those attributed to Chrestien and Gautier, which are considered by both Birch-Hirschfeld aud Nutt to be late inter- polations. The latter says of one of these " interpolations" (the passage found in the Berne MS. and incorporated in Gautier's section) : " The existence of this fragment shows the necessity of collating all the MSS. of the Conte du Graal and the impossi- bility of arriving at definite conclusions respecting the growth

of the work before this is done It is hopeless, in the

present state of knowledge, to do more than map out approxi- mately the leading sections of the work."

At some point in the period to which Chrestien's poem is assigned (1170-1212), there appeared the earliest versions we possess of a Christian legend which was destined soon to be combiued and inextricably complicated with the story of Young Perceval, the tah'smans, and Arthur's court. One of these ver- sions is found interpolated, in several manuscripts, between Chrestien's and Gautier's sections of the Oonte du Graal. The substance of it is as follows (I quote Nutt's summary) : "Joseph of Barimacie^ had a dish made; with it he caught the blood running from the Saviour's body as it hung on the Cross; he afterward begged the body of Pilate ; for the devotion showed the Grail he was denounced to the Jews, thrown into prison, delivered thence by the Lord, exiled together with the sister of Nicodemus, who had an image of the liord. Joseph and bis companions came to the promised land, the White Isle, a part of England. There they warred against them of the land. When Joseph was short of food he prayed to the Creator to send him the Grail wherein he had gathered the holy blood, after which to them that sat at table the Grail brought bread and wine and meat in plenty. At his death Joseph begged the

^Joseph tf Arimaihia, Nutt remarks that the form Barimade bears wit- neas to a lAtin original, being corrupted evidently from ab ArimaihiaL

LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL. 99

Grail might remain with his seed, and thus it was that no one, of however high condition, might see it save he was of Joseph's blood. The Rich Fisher was of that kin, and so was Grelogue- vaus, from whom came Perceval/' The date of this passage cannot be even approximately ascertained ; but it is not the only version of the legend. It is evident from the increased attention Gautier pays to the graal that he was acquainted with some such account. Besides, he tells that the griaus was given by the King of kings as he hung on the Cross, and that " the devil may not lead astray any man on the same day he sees it."

But in addition to these witnesses we have a detailed poem by Robert de Borron (a reference he makes to his lord, Walter of Montbeliard, fixes its date between 1170 and 1212) on the early history of the Grail. Here for the first time we enter an atmosphere apparently of prevailingly Christian tone. Begin- ning with Borron's poem, we have many accounts of the origin, the wanderings, the miracles, and the spiritual significance of the Grail. They agree substantially to this effect : The Grail was the vessel used by Christ at the Last Supper, obtained from Pilate by Joseph of Arimathia, who received in it the blood from Christ's wounds when our Lord's body was taken from the Cross. During a long captivity which he suffered for his fidelity, Joseph was fed and comforted by the holy vessel, which came to him in his prison, filling it with glorious light. Upon his release Joseph brought the sacred emblem to England, where he or his descendants founded the British church. It would remain in the keeping of Joseph's family until a chosen knight should come, to be its king and guardian. Some versions relate that the Grail was brought to England by Brons, Joseph's brother-in-law ; others that Joseph, after bringing it to England himself, confided it to Brons.

Somewhere about this time, but the dates and order are matter of vexed discussion, were written the prose romances, the Queste del Saint Graal and the Grand Saint Graal. Robert de Borron's poetical romance was originally in three parts,

100 GEORGE M. HARPER.

Joseph cPArimathiey Merlirij Perceval. Of the first part we possess nearly all, of the second the banning ; the third is lost ; but of the first two parts and perhaps of all three, there have come down to us versions in prose. Furthermore, we have another independent prose version, entitled Perceval le Gallois, the Grerman poetical version Parzivai^ of Wolfram von Eschenbach, and Heinrich von dem Turlin's Diu Or&ne, not to mention in this connection mere fragments, variants, and translations.

The incidents of the GraiPs " early history " are, at first blush, similar in character to those of most other monkish legends. They furnish a good illustration of how far, at that time, the canon of the New Testament scriptures was from being established, and with how little compunction medieval religious writers sometimes mingled their own inventions with the sacred narratives. Statements of canonical and apocryphal books are not distinguished from mouth to mouth tradition or from sheer fiction. The apocryphal authority most used is the Evangdium Nicodemiy which was known and popular in Eng- land several centuries before it is mentioned by any continental writer except Gr^ory of Tours. The apocryphal narrative of Joseph was also employed, and the Vindida Salvaioris, The accounts of the early history of the Grail are in all but two romances bound up with a history of the quest, based upon stories of Perceval's youth, the talismans, and Arthur's court, which we have seen are of Celtic pagan origin.

The Queste del Saint Oraxily a prose romance attributed in the manuscripts themselves to Walter Map, and found gener- ally in the same manuscripts with the Lancelot and the Mort Artur, is plainly of secondary or tertiary construction, although dating from the period 1190-1200, and written without know- ledge of Borron's poem. Birch-Hirechfeld has done what he could to shake the statement that Walter Map was its author. I am glad to believe that he has not succeeded. It is a great satisfaction to have in the cycle at least one author about whose life and character we possess some outside knowledge. Walter

'* •• • •••

• - »

I^EQBND OF THE HOLY GKAIL. 101

Map was born before 1143 and died in 1210. He was one of the most versatile writers of his day, a prominent courtier mider Henry the Seoond and perhaps also under Richard and John, and one of the highest dignitaries of the English church. Having been educated at the University of Paris, he was several times chosen to fill important political and ecclesiastical posts on the Continent. His writings are in French and Latin, although he was an Englishman, and probably a native of the Welsh border. His most celebrated Latin work, De Nugia Oarialiumy is a book of personal reminiscences and miscella- neous gossip, and shows the immense range of his experience and his curiosity in many fields of literary attainment. His long sojourns in France, his intellectual eminence, and the fact that he was born just when and where he was, make possible his having been able at least to know all the legends and romances upon which the Queste del Saint Graal is based, and to conceive the idea of writing a book which should combine them and transfuse them with new spiritual significance.

Birch- Hirschfeld's chief argument against his authorship is that he could not have had time, in his busy life of civil and ecclesiastical politics, to compose the vast romances which call themselves his. Yet precisely in his travels in France and England, and in his diplomatic activity, would he have found material for his works, which are chiefly the piling up of ad- venture upon adventure, with very little attempt at coordina- tion. If a learned and travelled man had kept account of all the stories of chivalry that fell under his notice, he might quickly and easily have strung them together in his old age. Mr. Skeat, in the preface to his edition of the Vernon MS. Joseph of Arimathia, printed for the Early English Text Society in 1871, takes a view, however, that is entirely too radical, especially as it is unsupported by proofs, when he says : " The Lancelot of Chrestien de Troyes has been proved conclusively by a Flemish scholar, W. J. A. Jonckbloet, to have been founded upon the Lancelot of Walter Map; and in like manner I suppose that Chrestien borrowed his Perceval le Gallois from

102 GEOBGE M. HARPER.

Map also, in a great measure. I can see no reason why we may not assume Walter Map's romance, of which the original Latin version is lost, to have been the real original from which all the rest were more or less imitated." He quotes with appro- bation Professor Morley's exclamation : '* Where was there an author able to invent it and to write it with a talent so 'pro- digious,' except Walter Map, to whom alone, and to whom always, positively, it has l>een ascribed?" Again Mr. Skeat says : " The original Latin text by Walter Map being lost, we are left to conjecture what it was like from the various transla- tions and imitations of it. And first, there is the Romance in French verse, as composed by Robert de Boron about A. D. 1170." Whether Map learned from Borron or Borron from Map, or both, as is more likely, from common sources, the Frenchman's poem and the Englishman's Qiceate are the earliest and best presentations of the Early History, or Christian legend, of the Grail. The elements of this legend, though old enough, far older doubtless than any version we possess, can hanlly com- pare in antiquity with the pagan mythological sources from which sprang the story of Young Perceval.

It would seem a difficult task to show how the two streams, thus starting far apart, one pagan and the other Christian, flowed together, blending into the great spiritual legend of which the one transcendent outcome is the Grail, the symbol of Christ's visible presence and the object of the purest human aspiration. It is indeed a problem which has taxed and baffled the minds of many scholars. Only of very recent years has a solution l)een proposed which in a measure satisfies the re- quirements of probability and is in accord with the great mass of other phenomena in comparative literature. This triumph was reserved for students of specifically Celtic mythology and folk-lore. If their conclusions appear disappointing to those who would fain discover a Christian origin for the noblest of medieval legends, on the other hand they must prove gratify- ing to all lovers of consistency. What these Celtic scholars have done is no less than to show that the real origin of the

LEGEND OF THE HOLY QRAIL. 103

early history as well as of the quest is Celtic and pagan I Mn Nutt, whose researches seem to have been inspired and assisted by J, F. Campbell's Popular Tales of the West Highlands, finds in Bran, the hero of an Irish myth, " the starting-point of the Christian transformation of the legend/' Brons is no other than Bran, who, in Celtic tradition, is " ruler of the other world," of Avalon, the land of the blessed, beyond the western sea, whither the choicest heroes go questing. In the Christian legend the seat of Brons' influence, where he began the con- version of the Britons, is Glastonbury, which was one of the first centres of Christian influence in Britain. Mr. Nutt asks : " Is it too rash a conjecture that the Christian chbrch may have taken the place of some Celtic temple or holy spot specially dedicated to the cult of the dead and of that Lord of the Shades from which the Celts feigned their descent ? "

This is indeed a bold speculation, particularly when we con- sider the earliness of Borron's poem and the Queste del Saint Oraaly and their thorough Christian character, and remember also the rapidity with which all subsequent writers accepted the Christian-legendary account. I do not see either why Mr. Nutt should give so little weight to the early influence of the Evan" gelium Nicodemi. His view, however, is consistent with the shrewd proposition which he assumes in starting, but happily does not lay too much stress upon, viz : that the tendency in medieval literature is from the racial-heathen towards the Christian-l^endary. However valuable this principle, and by the analogy of Scandinavian and German literatures it is most excellent, the force of Mr. Nutt's argument depends en- tirely upon the character of the Celtic folk-stories to which he and Professor Rhys, who follows him enthusiastically, refer. The whole field is open only to them and other learned Celtic students like them ; but they have provided us samples enough to furnish a judgment, and their conclusions on this head must be regarded as final in the present state of knowledge.

We have now reached the following results respecting the ultimate sources of the Holy Grail legend : First, the source

/ / /

104 OEOROE M. HARPER.

whence sprang the most beautiful feature, the feature which was the most prominent one in early versions, is the Young Perceval folk-tale. This story, as found among nearly all peoples of Aryan race, is called the Expulsion and Return formula, and has been connected by many recent investigators with a solar myth, as representing the setting and rising of the sun, or a secular myth, as representing the departure and return of spring. While the formula is almost universal, the particular variety in this case is Celtic. Secondly, the poets of the Holy Grail cycle availed themselves of the legends about Merlin and Arthur and other figures of Celtic mythology which were prominent in the twelflh century. These l^nds had been in part revived, in part forged, in part new created, and all for a political reason which the history of Wales makes sufficiently clear. Thirdly, there exist, even in our earliest versions, mysterious and pr^nant allusions to certain objects, either pagan talismans or Christian relics; and in the later growth of the legend it is to these that a predominating de- velopment is given. The most recent phase of study has been the discussion of the complicated problem here presented : Are these objects in their remotest origin pagan or Christian? Do they represent some ancient Druidical usage and was the know- ledge of them kept alive through Celtic tradition ; or were they of monkish creation, the outgrowth of the scriptural and apoc- ryphal and legendary accounts of the early Christian church ? Now it is evident that if the Christian -origin hypothesis were true we should find the sacred objects treated as Christian symbols in the earliest as well as the latest versions we possessi But such is not the case, unless I am wrong in claiming an ear- lier date for Chrestien's poem, the mabinogi, and the Thornton Sir Perceval than for the works of Robert Borron and Walter Map. In the Thornton Sir Perceval there is no mention what- ever of sword, lance, spear, dish, graaiy or salver, whether as Christian relics or as pagan talismans. In Chrestien's portion of the Oonte du Oraal the mention is not such as to justify the Christian-origin hy|)othesis. Mysterious objects are alluded

LEGEND OF THE HOLY ORAlL. 105

to in such a way sa to indicate that the author did not under- stand their nature or significance, or else did not wish yet to inform his readers on these points. This has been explained by saying that Chrestien was reserving this information for the conclusion of his poem, when it was to be introduced with some efPect of surprise. But Gautier, who continued Cbres- tien^s poem almost immediately and probably had access to the same material as Chrestien, is only a little more definite than he, and in the meanwhile the transformation is conceded to have b^un. In the mabinogi a bleeding spear and a salver containing a man's head are introduced, but with no hint of their being relics of Christ's passion. Furthermore, Wolfram, who based his poem largely on Chrestien's, states explicitly that he had another source as well, the now lost Kiot. I think Wolfram's declaration worthy of credence, although that is a very bold thing to do, since most of his recent critics, and the best of them, at that, have denied the existence of this Kiot and given the lie to that most worthy and Christian knight. Wolfram von Eschenbach, who proudly asserted that he was no mere literary man. Now Wolfram, while pene- trated to the heart with the most fervent Christian mysticism and displaying everywhere his love of allegory and his faith in Grod's special interferences, does nowhere regard the gracU as the vessel which received Christ's blood. Its significance for him is indeed religious, but he has evidently never heard of the origin ascribed to it by the authors of the Joseph, the Queste del Saint Oraal, and the Grand Saint Graal, by Robert de Borron and Walter Map, and all the writers who adopt the legendary story.

In Wolfram's Parzival thegraal is a precious stone, yielding bounteous store of food and drink ; to it, every passion week, flutters down from heaven a dove, which places upon it a holy wafer. At the fall of the rebellious angels it was received from God by Titurel and his dynasty, and preserved by them in Montsalvat, the Grail Castle. It chooses its own guardians, a sacred knighthood, vowed to virginity, all except their king.

106 GEORGE M. HARPER.

Anfortas, the maimed king, was wounded not more in body than in soul, "for having taken up arms in the cause of worldly and unlawful love." Now if Wolfram had any other model besides Chrestien, and he says he had Kiot, this ignor- ance of his shows that another and still older writer was also ignorant of the Joseph legend. Wolfram, discontented with Chrestien's lack of moral and religious profundity, protests against l)eing considered an imitator of his, and informs us that his model was Kiot the Proven9al (or Kiot of Provins). There is absolutely no trace of such a poet except in Wolfram. Spanish and Proven9al literatures have been searched through in vain for evidence of the existence in medieval Proven9al of a Grail romance. But Wolfram's assertions are too explicit to be lightly passed over. Let us take his words in evidence.

In Parzival, 452, 29, speaking of the pious Trevrezent, a hermit whom the hero encounters on his travels :

an dem ervert nu Parzivfll

diu verholnen msere umben grftl.

Swer mich dervon 6 frftgte

nnt drumbe mit mir bftgte,

ob ichs im niht sagte,

umprts der dran bejagte.

mich batez helen KyOt,

wand im diu ftventiure gebAt

daz es immer man gedsehte,

6 ez d'&ventiuro bnehte

mit worten an der msehre gruoz

daz man dervon doch gprechen muoz.

Kvdt der meinter wol bekant ze DAlet verworfen ligen vant in heidenischer schrifte dirre &ventiure gestifte. der karakter & b c muoser hftn gelemet ^, &n den list von negrAmanzt. es half daz im der toaf was bt : anders waer diz maer noch unvemumn. kein heidensch list moht uns gefrumn ze k linden umbes gr&les art, wie man stner tougen inne wart.

LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL. 107

ein heiden FlegetAnts bejagte an kunste hdhen prts. der selbe fiB66n was gehorn von Salmdn, tiz iarah^Ischer sippe erzilt yon alter her, unz unser scliilt der touf wart f urz hellefiur. der schreip vons grftles Aventior. £r was ein heiden vaterhalp Fleget&nls, der an ein kalp bette als op ez waer stn got. wie mac der tievel selhen spot gefiiegen an 86 wiser diet, daz si niht scheidet ode schiet d& yon der treit die hohsten haat unt dem ellia wunder sint bekant?

Fleget&nts der heiden kunde uns wol bescheiden iesltches stemen hinganc unt stner kilnfte widerwanc; wie lange iesltcher umbe g6t, 6 er wider an sin zil gest^t. mit der stemen umbereifie vart ist gepiifel aller menschlier art Flegetftnls der heiden sach, dk von er bldwecllche sprach, im gestirn mit slnen ougen verholenbseriu tougen. er jach, es hiez ein dine der gr&l : des namen las er sunder twM in me gestime, wie der hiez. * ein schar in df der erden liez : diu fuor df iiber die steme h6ch. op die ir unschult wider zdch, sit muoz sin pflegn getouftlu fruht mit also kiuschllcher zuht : diu menscheit ist immer wert, der zuo dem grille wirt gegert.'

Sus schreip dervon FlegetAnls. Ky6t der meister wis diz msere begunde suochen in latlnschen buochen, w& gewesen wsere ein vole d& zuo gebere daz ez des gr&les pflsge

108 GEORGE M. HARPER.

unt der kiusche sich beweege.

er las der lande chr6nicA

ze BritAne ant anderswA,

ze Francrtche unt in Y riant :

ze Anachouwe er diu m»re vant.

er las von MazadAn

mit wftrheite sunder w&n :

umb allez stn geslehte

stuont d& geechriben rehte,

unt anderhalp wie Tyturel

unt des sun Frimutel

den gr&l bneht df Amfortas,

des swester Herzeloyde was,

bt der Gahmuret ein kint

gewan, des disiu miere sint.'

It is scarcely likely that Wolfram could read Proven9al, or indeed that Kiot wrote in that language. It is probable that he used a Northern French dialect^ though it is not necessary to suppose that the chronicle of Anjou really did furnish him anything about the Grail. The fact that he is called Kiot the Provenyal would indicate that he did not live in Provence; else why should his nationality be emphasized ? Without denying that this story about Flegetanis and Kiot has many elements of the fictitious, for the most part it seems to me credible enough. Wolfram is almost as serious and reliable as Dante. Who would think of disbelieving the Italian poet's downright and oft-repeated assertions? And Wolfram insists on Kiot. I am not, however, insusceptible to the force of Birch-Hirsch- feld's argument that Wolfram, having borrowed wholesale from Chrestien, and wishing to draw attention from that fact, pre- tended to have a recondite source in Kiot, of whom no trace exists, and made as little mention of ("hrestien as possible. I will admit further that there occurs to me, in support of Birch- Hirschfeld's theory, a reason which I have never seen advanced, namely that Wolfram has not always wrought with that sad sincerity becoming to a medieval religious (wet, but indulges on every opportunity in his pecMiliar humor ; his assertion that

* I have translated this important and interesting passage in Appendix A.

LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAH^. 109

he could not read and was no mere literary man may be taken as an example, for it is preposterous to suppose that he was illiterate, and the connection in which the remark occurs is full of repartee with imaginary readers. But just because of these readers, he could not have been romancing in so serious a matter as the Kiot authorship, for he evidently wrote in anticipation of being read by court people of his own acquaintance, who would be sure to bring him to book for his statements, as he says certain ladies had done once before.

The Anglo-Norman writers of the Holy Grail cycle also insist on certain Latin books, whose existence Mr. Nutt seems to scoff at ; and I see no reason to deny that there may have been versions in Latin, or in French either, which have been lost.* Indeed the inconsistency, coupled with similarity, of the versions we do possess points irresistibly to such a conclusion. There is no use in making the problem harder than it is by shutting ourselves up with the versions we have and trying to make them fit together, when they absolutely will not fit. If ever there was room for the respectful consideration of unknown quantities it is here. If ever s|)ecuIation was justifiable, besides being delightful, it is also here.

Whatever its origin, the Legend of the Holy Grail speedily acquired a tone of Christian mysticism. The Grail itself, which was so little alluded to at first, grew to a figure of paramount importance. An amazing number of versions sprang up within a single half-century. Looking at the legend as a supernatural being may be supposed to r^ard all mundane phenomena, — that is independently of the limitations and order of time, it must be admitted that its root and life, its fruit, its purpose, its essential principle, its promise for the future, is the beautiful idea of a spiritual knighthood, seeking not earthly love and favor, but the sacred emblem of our Saviour's sacrifice, the

^ Again I plead for more faith in MS. statements. MS. 2,456 Bibl. Nat. (of the Chrand Saint Oraal) says: Or dist li oontes qui est estrais de toutes les ystoiresy s! come Robere de Borons le translatoit de latin en roroans, i I'ajde de maistre Oautier Map.

110 GEORGE M. HARPER.

miraculous vessel of his immanent grace, the medium of his bounty. The lapse of ages has enabled us to look backward with somewhat of supernatural freedom from ordinary logic ; and we may, without great violence to historical facts, transfer the final cause to the position of the formal cause, and declare that in this transcendental sense Tennyson and Wagner are nearer the truth than Mr. Nutt and Professor Rhys. Yet from an every-day point of view the latter, it appears to me, have given us at last a sound theory as to the ultimate sources of the legend.

The embodiment of the legend is in the following versions, which have come down to us. I have endeavored to arrange them as nearly as possible in chronological order, that being, however, a matter of much uncertainty. Mr. Nutt's work, the most elaborate treatment of the subject, and based on vast research, and conducted with judgment and fairness, affords authority for most of the table.

1. Chrestien's portion of the Oorite du Graal. The OorUe du OracU is a poem containing over 60,000 verses, of which Chresticn de Troyes, a celebrated Northern French poet, wrote 10,600. Ch. Potvin printed, for the first time, 45,379 verses, from a MS. in the library of Mons, Belgium : Le Conte du Graal, 6 vols., 8vo. ; Mons, 1866-71. A complete edition of Chrestien's works is now being edited by Foerster. Of this three volumes have already appeared, containing the Chevalier au Lyon and the Erec et Enide; Halle, 1890. Chrestien dedi- cates his poem to Count Philip of Flanders, who li bailla le livre, gave him the book, upon which it is based. Nutt and Birch-Hirschfeld agree in supposing, from references to Count Philip, that the work was begun about 1189. Three of the eontinuators of the poem name themselves and claim their share of credit for it; one of them, Gerbert, even states expressly that Chrestien was prevented by death from proceeding with it:

oe nous dUt Chrestiens de Troyes qui de Percheval comencha mais la mora qui Tadevancha De li laiflsa pas traire affin.

LEGEND OP THE HOLY QRAIL. Ill

2. The mabinogi otPeredur ab Evrawc, as already explained, though probably written later than Chrestien's fragment, is not modelled on it necessarily, and is at least equally ancient in con- ception and material. It is a Welsh prose romance found in MSS. of the end of the thirteenth century, but particularly in the Red Book of Hergest, a MS. of the end of the fourteenth, preserved in the library of Jesus College, Oxford, from which it was printed, in 1838, by Lady Charlotte Guest, in her Eng- lish translation of the Mabinogion.

3. Sir Perceval of Galles, an old English poem, first printed by Halliwell for the Camden Society, in 1844, from the Thorn- ton MS. of about 1440, bears much the same relation to Chres- tien's fragment and to the mabinogi that they bear to each other. The Thornton MS. is thought to be a very late copy.

4. Gautier's portion of the Conte du Graal (verses 10,601- 34,934) was probably written shortly after Chrestien's death. The MSS. differ as to Gautier's full name, but probably it was Gautier de Doulens (a small town in Picardy, near Amiens). He mentions himself in verse 33,755.

5. The introduction to Chrestien's poem, though purporting to be by him, is evidently of later origin than the next 10,600 lines. It lays great stress on the grail and lance and on the Rich Fisher, though not generally in such a way as to imply a knowledge of the Christian legend, but rather in the full spirit of Celtic pagan folk-lore. There is one reference, how- ever, which proves that the author, whoever he was, had begun to connect the Druidical symbols with Christian relics. The supposed discovery of the lance with which the Roman soldier pierced the side of Jesus was one of the great sensations of the first crusade. The story as told in Gibbon, chapter 58, is well known. The pseudo-Chrestien introduction relates how the court of the Rich Fisher was entertained with seven tales, of which the seventh and most pleasing " tells of the lance where- with Longis pierced the side of the king of holy Majesty."

6. Robert de Borron's trilogy in French verse, Joseph^ Mei'lin, Perceindy of which we have the Joseph and part of the Merlin^

112 GEORGE M. HARPER.

was written probably a good while before the dose of the twelfth century. It bears the signature of genius, and one is not tempted to seek for other '^sources" than the author's originality, except in so far as we know he must have used traditions which had long before grown out of the canonical and apocryphal gospels. Borron's poem breathes a spirit of profoundest mysticism. For him all incidents of his story are fraught with a divine intention, pointing to the spiritual reign of Christ. Almost everything he mentions is typical of some religious doctrine. Ordinarily in literary criticism it is unsafe to yield to a temptation to seek cryptic meanings ; in medieval poetry of a religious character, it is necessary to exercise the speculative and sympathetic faculties. Borron Cpnnects the contemplation of the Grail with the celebration of the Sacrament of the Supper, and the Sacrament in turn typifies the manner and instruments of Christ's death. " No Sacrament shall ever be celebrated but Joseph shall be remem- bered. The bread and wine are Christ's flesh and blood, the tomb is the Altar; the grave-cloth the Corporal, the vessel wherein the blood was put shall be called Chalice, the cup- platter signifies the tombstone. All who see Joseph's vessel shall be of Christ's company, have fulfilment of their heart's wish and joy eternal." But with one side of the matter Borron was not so well acquainted, and this is of importance for us. He himself declares :

Je n'ose parler ne retraire, Ne je ne le porroie faire, (Neis se je feire le voloie) Se je le grant livre n'aveie Oil les estoires sont esorites. Par les grans deros feites et dites. lA sont li grant secr^ escrit Qu*on nomme le Graal.

^'I dare not speak of nor repeat [Joseph's secret], and not even if I wished to do it could I do it, without having the great book in which the stories are written, made, and told

LEGEND OF THE HOLY ORAIL. 113

by the great clerks. Therein are set forth the great secrets which are called the Grail." This is the sense in which Paulin Paris translates seje k grant livre rCaveie, Mr. Skeat, on p. XXXV of his preface to The English Alliterative Poem Joseph of Arimaihiey published for the English Text Society, objects to this rendering, and Mr. Nutt agrees with him, translating the sentence thus : " I dare not, nor could not, tell this but that I had the great book, &c.," concluding of course that he had the book, whereas the inference from the former translation is that Robert de Borron believed in the existence of the grand livre latin, but did not have it under his eyes. Among the legends employed is that of St. Veronica, under the name of Verrine, who "wiped Christ's face and thus got the likeness of Him." The Holy Grail is called Oraal because it is agreeable to all who see it. A significant feature is that Alain is commanded " to take charge of his brethren and sisters and go westwards," to Avaron, which can be nothing else than Avalon, the Ely- sian Fields of Druidical mythology. At the close of the Merlin occur the words : *' And I, Robert of Borron, writer of this book, may not speak longer of Arthur till I have told of Alain, son of Brons, and how the woes of Britain were caused ; and as the book tells so must I what man Alain was, and what life he led, and of his seed and their life. And when I have spoken of these things I will tell again of Arthur." We perceive the author's intention of connecting the first Christian church in Jerusalem with the church of Britain. The unique MS. is in the Biblioth^ue nationale, and contains 4,018 verses, of which 3,514 constitute the Joseph. It has been printed by Furnivall for the Roxburghe Club, in two volumes, London, 1861-63. The poem is often called the Petit Saint GfraaL Nutt holds that it remained unknown for many years after its composition^ since he finds no trace of its influence on romances of later date. Birch-Hirschfeld, believing he finds evidence of its influence even in the Conte du OracU, makes it the original member of the cycle, thus setting up a theory utterly opposed to the one we have followed. 8

114 GBOBOE M. HARPER.

7. The interpolation already noted and summarized, occur- ring in several MSS. of the OorUe du OrdcUy in the midst of Gautier's portion. This was evidently written some time later than Gautier's portion and inserted into his account to give a representation of the Christian l^end, which had by this time made credit for itself as the true and acceptable early history of the mysterious symbols.

8. An independent ending of Gautier's portion, found in the Berne MS., concluding with the following statements (I quote Nutt's summary) : " The Fisher King is father to Alain le Gros, husband to Enigeus, sister to the Joseph who, when Christ's body was taken down from the Cross, had it from Pilate as a reward for his services. Joseph had the vessel prepared to catch in it the blood from the body ; it was the same Jesus had made the Sacrament in, on the Thursday before. The Fisher King dies on the third day and Perceval reigns in his stead." The author of this fragment must have been acquainted with Borron's poem.

9. The Queste del Saint Qraal, a French prose romance, was printed for the Roxburghe Club, London, 1864, by Furnivall. Although Walter Map's authorship of it is denied by high authority, we have seen that the MSS. claim him and that there is no sufficient reason to doubt that he wrote it. A Welsh version exists, which though differing in many par- ticulars from any hitherto discovered French MS., appears to be a translation of the Queste, This Welsh version was printed, with a translation, by the Rev. Robert Williams, from a MS. of the fifteenth century : YSehil Grcuilf London, 1876.

10. The Orand Saint Graal^ a French prose romance, printed by Furnivall. The EJarly English Text Society has published an English metrical version based on this French original, by Herry Lonelich, of about the middle of the fifteenth century. Both Birch-Hirschfeld and Nutt, in spite of a hint in the MS. which might be taken as an ascription of it to Robert de Borron, declare that the authorship is unknown. There is contem|X)rary evidence (the reference to it by Helindandus)

LEGEND OF THE HOLY ORAIL. 115

that this romance was known before 1204. Nutt holds that oar version of the Grand Saint Graal is the result of incor- porating an original of that name^ now lost^ with Borron's poem.

11. Manessier, a Northern French poet, under the patronage of " Jehanne la Comtesse, qu'est de Flandre dame et mestresse," took up the Oonte du Graal at line 34,934 and finished it at line 45,379. Jehanne was sole ruler of Flanders between 1214 and 1227.

12. Another conclusion of the Conte du Grant is by Gerbert. Birch-Hirschfeld maintains that this was Gerbert de Montreuil, author of the Roman de la VioleUe, and furthermore that the 15,000 lines, more or less, here employed were part of a com- plete work of his, which was mutilated to furnish an ending to the work of Chrestien and Grautier.

13. Prose adaptations of Borron's trilogy. Their date is uncertain, but they were probably written in the first quarter of the thirteenth century. Nutt calls the prose romance of Perceval (the Didot-Peroeval) a sequel to Borron's poem, made under the influence of the Ooyite du Gra/d and the Queate, or of material on which they are based, and maintains that it is later than all the other members of the cycle, and cannot therefore be used to prove that the third member of Borron's trilogy was of such and such a character.

14. The Parzival of Wolfram von Eschenbach is preserved in numerous complete and well-authenticated MSS. It has been twice translated from the Middle High German original into Modem German verse, by San Marte and later by Simrock. Wolfram was a Bavarian and lived probably between 1170 and 1220. Wolfram's complete works have been published in a critical edition By Karl Lachmann, Berlin, 1879 (fourth edition).

15. Perceval le GalloiSj a French prose romance, is held by all critics to be of late origin, probably about 1225. There is an ancient Welsh translation of it, representing a text diflTerent from any we possess.

16. Diu Crdne, by Heinrich von dem Tiirlin, another ancient Grerman version, is subsequent to Parzival and based on it.

116 GEORGE M. HARPER.

17. Ancient translations: a translation of the Ocmte du Graal into Flemish verse, begun by Pennine and finished, in 1 350, by Peter Vorstaert ; another of the same in Icelandic, preserved in the Royal Library of Stockholm. There is also in Icelandic an ancient short compilation based on the Qmte du Graal,

18. The Morte DarthuVy of Sir Thom&s Malory, printed by Caxton, in 1485, has been the medium through which the English-speaking race has derived most of its knowledge of the Arthurian romances, including the story of the Grail. It has grown out from the obscurer and duller versions of the earlier age and by its own popularity doomed them to long oblivion. The English poets, and especially Tennyson, have drawn rich stores from it. Caxton said that Malory took his matter ^'out of certain books of French and reduced it into English." Nevertheless he cannot be denied great originality, both for substance and arrangement, and his style alone, which has at all times received praise, would mark him as no mere compiler. The editio princeps has been critically studied and republished in superb form, with a learned introduction, by H. O. Sommer, 3 vols., London, 1891. The bibliographical notes arc of great value. Malory, who probably completed his work about 1470, is, with respect to his attitude towards the Grail material, the first of a new class of writers, those who employ it freely, though reverently, as substance for original creations, modern in form and spirit. Not only Tennyson, but Spenser, Swin- burne, William Morris, Matthew Arnold, R. S. Hawker, and half a dozen other English poets have essayed this theme of the Grail quest, or the kindred themes of Arthur^s kingship, Lancelot's siu, and the luxurious woe of Tristram and Iseult. Mr. Sommer bears witness that the vitality and popularity of the Arthurian romances is, however, due to their internal con- nection with the legend of the Holy Grail. "What chivalry, with all its warlike prowess, was unable to effect by itself, was achieved by chivalry blended with Christianity. As long as Arthur's knights vowed themselves solely to worldly adven- tures, they were like ordinary men ; but when they entered upon

LEGEND OF THE HOLY GBAIL. 117

the quest of the Holy Grail, the search for the supernatural, the struggle for the spiritual stamped upon them immortality."

At no time since the thirteenth century have more contri- butions been made to the legend of the Grail than in our own time, a time profoundly in sympathy with that earlier age. The works of Tennyson and Wagner, while in so far original that they present the most modern conceptions of chivalry, morality, and religion, are yet legitimate and generic develop- ments of the medieval material. The text of Richard Wagner's music-drama Parsifal is based on Wolfram. There could be no better preparation for the study of how Wolfram himself treated Chrestien's poem or Malory adapted the matter found in his " French books," than a consideration of the way in which this most modern of poets chose what suited the de- mands of his imperious purpose. Mr. H. E. Krehbiel, in his -delightful Studies in the Wagnerian Drama, has traced for Eng- lish readers, but only too briefly, the genesis of Wagner's con- ception : how he, at an early point in his career, outlined a tragedy, Jesiis of Nazareth, and eight years later, in 1856, another. The Vi<storSy from a Buddhistic legend. Wagner him- self has told us that at this time his mind was possessed by the philosophy of Schopenhauer. The theme of The Victors was to be abn^ation, the voluntary annihilation of life. The love of the hero and heroine, Prakriti and Ananda, was to be surrendered at the instance of Buddha, and they were to retire from 'the world and live in celibacy. In this tone of mind, which was in fact the dominating mood of his art-life, Wagner composed Tristan und Isolde; this underlying idea gave birth to much of the philosophy of the Nibelungen trilogy ; it is in virtue of heroic renunciation that Hans Sachs becomes the central figure of the Meistersinger, for dignity and pathos; and the informing idea of Lohengrin, also, is that better than all the sunlit joys of life, dearer than woman's favor and men's homage, stands the law of obedience to some master who is not ^f this world, — and the Swan Knight leaves his Elsa and his

118 GEORGE M. HARPER.

fair kiDgdom for an empire of shadow. It is not enough to say that the stuff of all tragedy is just this thing — a noble soul's voluntary acceptahce of the sharp decrees of higher law. The individual qualities of Wagner's tragic conceptions are in keep- ing with that Oriental philosophy to which Schopenhauer iutro* duced him. So when, afler rejecting both his earlier plans, he came to write Parsifal, it is comprehensible enough that the result, however Christian the theme and medieval the mate- rial, should betray the influence of his besetting thought.

Now what elements in Wolfram's story lend themselves to such change, not to say distortion ? Manifestly the conception of the hero's purity. To bring out this quality and make it a determining factor of the drama, was therefore a temptation Wagner could not resist, although in accomplishing his pur- pose he must depart essentially from Wolfram. So the " loathly damsel " Kundrie, in Wolfram the Grail Messenger, is endowed with supernatural beauty and with powers of magic, is identi- fied, moreover, with that Herodias who was doomed to walk the earth in fruitless penitence, enticing men to their ruin, until some pure soul should resist her unwillingly-exerted charms. To unify his plot Wagner made Parsifal's power to do this depend on his being touched with pity for Anfortas^ pains and with horror at the sin of sensuality which had brought them upon that suffering Grail King. Wagner did no violence to the general spirit of medieval romance, in mak- ing celibate chastity the crown of all virtues ; but Wolfram was peculiar in differing from his monkish predecessors oh just this point, for his Parzi val is no ascetic. We cannot, of course, challenge Wagner's right to re-inspire his material and make the flame white or red as he pleased. That he made it white, only proves his dramatic vigor and his vast sweep of view in the study of sources. For he was writing a medieval drama, and surely he produced a more consistent effect thus than he would have done had he strictly followed Wolfram. And, moreover, the conception of abnegation is not solely modern nor Oriental. It is to be found, for example, in the Eddaa

LEGEND OF THE HOLY ORAIL. 119

and in the Celtic myths of Avalon and the Isles beyond the Western Sea. Possibly it has been suggested to all races, at all times, by the sight of death in the young and strong. Wagner's semi-identification of Parsifal with Christ is a pro- ceeding less easily defensible from a dramatic point of view ; but in general one may say that this poem is one more evi- dence, if any were needed after the Nibelungen and Tristan^ of the intellectual supremacy of Richard Wagner, His succes- sive conquests of whole territories of obscure myth and legend are as remarkable as those of the brothers Grimm themselves. The way in which he gathered his substance and harmonized it in Parsifal is a grand illustration of the magnetic quality of a soul-possessing idea, which draws all things to itself.

I have been led to accept Nutt's list as the main authority for the order of most of the above cited vereions from a belief in the soundness of his two statements, viz : first, an & priori principle that the tendency in bodies of medieval literature is to develop from the racial-heathen towards the Christian-legendary form and not vice versa ; and secondly, that the poetical motive of a search or quest of the grail symbols is of older origin than the accounts which various versions give of the Christian origin of those symbols. Furthermore, Mr. Nutt has shown that there existed in Celtic literature abundant suggestion for a grail-myth independent of any Christian source. But it would not be fair to omit to say that the views of Birch-Hirschfeld, which are the reverse of all this, are more simply and clearly sustained than those of Nutt, who seems to labor under his great burden of minute information. I cannot profess to be convinced that Borron's poem may notiiave been, after all, a<* Birch-Hirschfeld maintains, written before Chrestien's. The difficulties encoun- tered in this investigation impress me with a sense of how little the best inductive criticism can achieve when once a few bare facts about dates and sources and persons are lost. Birch- Hirschfeld, "putting Borron first, and showing how, after monkish fashion, he wove a tale based on holy scripture and apocryphal books, makes Chrestien follow him, while the

120 GEORGE M. HARPER.

mabinogi is an imitation of the Oonte du Graal. Everyone must admit, however, tliat the story of Young Perceval and many other incidents are of ancient Celtic and non-Christian origin.

But the power of the Christian conception, and also the trend of time, making: constantly towards Christ, are seen in the sub- sequent history of tlie legend. The poem of Wolfram, later and more perfect than the French originals, is no less than the story of Mansoul lifted out of grossness, despite dark doubt, by aspiration after God as He is manifested in the mystery of the Grail. Parzival is a noble forerunner of Faust; it makes the same bitter cry for the same sad woes ; it leads through unbelief to triumphant faith ; it teaches, finally, that spiritual attainment cannot be, until the soul forgets herself in humble sympathy for the sorrows of others. And this jK)em of the Middle Ages, thus worthy to stand side by side with that other great product of the spiritual German nation, contains no moral beauties, the germs of which cannot be found in those earlier, less serious, less consciously religious Welsh, French, and English works.

The Grail as typifying the sacrament of the supper, and that again as symbolizing the continued presence of Christ in the world, to help and save — this was the final cause, the unac- knowledged reason, the unknown beginning, of the whole cycle. It is as if a divine hand had been holding the hands of all the writers of these books ; and there can be few plainer triumphs of the Christian ideal than this, of having converted and drawn unto itself an obscure ])agan myth, a stupid and unhistorical monkish fiction, many vain and worldly " adven- tures," until they appear at last fused into one as Wolfram's Parzivaly as Tennyson's Holy Grail, as Wagner's Parsifal. In whatever shai)e, of mere frivolous romance, or of mytho- logical tradition, or of garruloas monkish invention, the legend may have originated, its destiny was, to become Sucreasingly moral, to embody a most spiritual i-eligious doctrine; and whether or no its kernel is a survival of Druidical ceremonies

LEGEND OF THE HOLY GBAIL. 121

and superstitions, its character developed more and more in the direction of Christian symbolism. Words alone, beautiful as Wagner's are, did not seem to this greatest of modem Grer- mans capable of holding the intense fervor of his theme ; and the legend has found its latest expression in the latest and most wonderful art of man's invention, the music-drama, and in the supreme work of that art's first master. Wagner wrote his poem in fuller accord with the medieval conception than Tennyson, as he was obliged to do in order to preserve the sense of objective reality necessary in an acted drama, the medieval story being in all points capable of scenic repre- sentation. Tennyson, as we know, has transcendentalized it, employing the later, Christian-legendary account, and not the mythological one.

** The cup, the cup itself, from which our Lord Drank at the last sad supper with his own. This, from the blessed land of Aromat — After the day of darkness, when the dead Went wandering o'er Moriah — the good saint, Arimathaean Joseph, journeying brought To Glastonbury, where the winter thorn Blossoms at Christmas, mindful of our Lord. And there awMle it bode : and if a man Could touch or see it, he was heal'd at once, By faith, of aU his ills."

What thing the Grail was, Percivale's sister, the ecstatic nun, essays to tell :

" Sweet brother, I have seen the Holy Grail : For, waked at dead of night, I heard a sound As of a silver horn from o'er the hills Blown, and I thought, ^ It is not Arthur's use To hunt by moonlight ; ' and the slender sound As from a distance beyond distance grew Coming upon me — O never harp nor horn. Nor aught we blow with breath, or touch with hand, Was like that music as it came ; and then Stream'd through my cell a cold and silver beam. And down the long beam stole the Holy Grail,

122 GEORGE M. HARPER.

Rose-red with beatings in it, as if alive, Till all the white walls of my cell were dyed With roey colors leaping on the wall ; And then the music faded, and the Grail Passed, and the beam decayed, and from the walls The rosy quiverings died into the night"

No Other version equals Tennyson^s description of the origin of tiie quest :

ti i'

Then of a summer night it came to pass. While the great banquet lay along the hall, That Galahad would sit down in Merlin's chair. And all at once, as there we sat^ we heard A cracking and a riving of the roofs. And rending, and a blast, and overhead Thunder, and in the thunder was a cry. And in the blast there smote along the hall A beam of light seven times more clear than day : And down the long beam stole the Holy Grail All over covered with a luminous cloud. And none might see who bore it, and it past. But every knight beheld his fellow's face As in a glory, and all the knights arose. And staring each at other like dumb men Stood, till I found a voice and swore a vow.

I swore a vow before them all, that I, Because I had not seen the Grail, would ride A twelvemonth and a day in quest of it. Until I found and saw it, as the nun My sister saw it ; and Galahad swore the vow. And good Sir Bors, our Lancelot's cousin, swore, And Lancelot swore, and many among the knights. And Gawain swore, and louder than the rest.' "

And so on through those familiar lines describing how Galahad attained to perfect vision and Percivaie to such a sight that henceforth he

" cared but to pass into the silent life,"

and Lancelo};^ for his sin, was granted only a terrific glimpse.

Tennyson's melodious creation is known to all, and haunts

the memory like one of Dora's dream-cities, with clustering and

LEGEND OF THE HOLY GBAIL. 123

forehead-meeting towers. Wagner's is compounded of poetry and the indescribable and not-to-be-discussed diviner art of music. But Wolfram's Parzival, the only great poem by a single known author between the Latin classics and Dante, might be described briefly and made to show what pre-Dantean medieval art was. I have attempted to translate a few of Wolfram's rapid and somewhat uncouth verses. The original metre and rhyming system have been for the most part pre- served^ my aim being as much literalness as is consistent with clearness and grace. Indeed^ in all but a few passages of over- weening tenderness and beauty, Wolfram himself seems to aspire rather to force than to elegance, as became a warrior, who disclaimed all purpose of trying to win favor by words,

When Love's the stak« and Knighthood plays.

The poem is in sixteen books of about 1,560 lines each. The versification is irregular, iambic tetrameter being, how- ever, by far the most frequent form of the verses, which rhyme in successive pairs, but not necessarily in couplets : that is to say, two rhyming lines belong frequently to different sentences, so that the assonance is sometimes purely artificial and void of all pleasing effect.

The first two books, which are considered to have been written last, are filled, after a few introductory lines, with the adventures of Parzival's father Gahrauret, — incidents which have no connection with the Grail or any of the leading threads of narrative which follow. In the words of prelude, however. Wolfram does announce one of the moral motives of his work. They begin as follows :

When doubt a human conscience gnaws, Peace from that breast her light withdraws. Beauty and ugliness we find Even in the bravest heart combined, If taint be in him, great or slight, As in the magpie black and white. Yet ofttimes may he saved be,

124 GEORGE M. HARPER.

For both share in his destiny — High heaven and the abyss of hell. But when the man is infidel Of midnight blackness is his soal, His course is towards yon pitchy hole ; While he of steady mind pursues The shining road the righteous choose.

True to his Germanic blood, Wolfram introduces his hearers at once into an atmosphere of moral inquiry, and the subject of his poem is not mere courtly adventure, tinged with religious mysticism, as is the case with the French, Welsh, and English versions, but besides this and underlying it, the eternal warfare of doubt against the souPs activity. The rest of his introduc- tion is broadly executed, being a rambling discourse on fidelity, love, and woman, to our ears a strange medley of grave and humorous. And then he plunges into the recital of Gahmuret's adventures. The fact that they have no essential connection with the rest of the poem shows how fond were medieval audi- ences of mere narration for its own sake. Wolfram briefly praises his unborn hero Parzival, a man of unalloyed courage, to whom fear and deceit were unknown, and then tells how his father Gahmuret, the younger son of Gandein, king of Anjou, enters the service of the Kalif of Bagdad, winning the love of the heathen queen Belakane, whom he forsakes because she will not become a Christian. He subsequently marries a lady named Herzeloide. He is slain in battle, and Herzeloide, hearing the news, buries herself in the wilderness of Soltane with her son, whom she resolves to protect from his father's fate by keeping him in ignorance of chivalry and warfare.

Then begins the recital proper, the first episode, which I have translated, being the idyllic story of Parzival's youth, told much more fully and picturesquely by Wolfram than by any of the other romancers. For the purposes of scientific in- vestigation it would be better to consider this incident in one of the older accounts, such as the mabinogi, but if we are con- cerned to feel the pulse-beat of the highest poetic fervor attained

LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL. 12&

by any of the old writers of the cycle, we must seek it here. Indeed, as Wolfram is acknowledged to be the most profound and at times the sweetest of the old German singers, and as none of his other work equals this episode in tenderness and spring- like fireshness, it has always appealed to me as the most beauti- ful sustained passage in medieval literature previous to Dante*

Another may with worthier thought Of women speak — ^I hate him not ; I court their favor everywhere; Only to one no meed I bear Of service humble and true ; Towards her my wrath is ever new Since first she harmed me with a lie. Wolfram von Eschenbach am I — Can bear a part in all your songs; And fast, as with a pair of tongs. For her I hold resentment hot Who such affliction on me brought. How can I help but hate her, who Gave me such harsh misdeeds to me ? Why other ladies hate me then, Alack, that is beyond my ken I

If their dislike does me no good, Still 'tis a proof of womanhood. And since my words were none too fine, To bear the blame be also mine I This shall not soon again befall, But if it does I warn you all, Good ladies, storm not as before My house about my ears. Of war I understand the tactics quite ; Your foibles and your faults I might Too well disclose. But for a pure And modest woman I'd endure All bitter strife ; to ease her woe My heart would fain all joys forgo.

On broken crutches halts his fame Who, angered by his scornful dame. Dares to speak ill of womankind* And first, that none offense may find, With poet's arts I'll not ensnare Her who may grant me audience fair.

126 OEOBGE M. HARPER.

A knight-at-arms am I by birth ;

In me sleep warlike strength and worth ;

She who might love me for my song

Would show a judgment sadly wrong.

For if 1 seek a lady's grace

And may not go before her face

With honors won by shield and sword,

I will not woe her, by my word !

No other game can have my praise

When Love's the stake and Knighthood plays.

And seem^ it not flattery

Of ladies, I should let you see

Straight to the end of my narration

And much that's new in the creation.

If anyone enjoys the tale

Let him take notice, without fail,

Thb is no book. Letters I know not.

To them for leaven I go not.

As others use ; and these adventures

Shall come to end without such censures.

Bather than have them thought a book

I'd naked sit, without a smock, —

That is, in a bath-tub 't would be,

With a bathing-towel to cover me.

I find the usage much to blame Which makes no difierence in the name Of women false and women true. Clear-voiced are all, but not a few Quickly to evil courses run. While others every folly shun. So goes the world, but still 'tis shame The bad ones share that honored name. Loyal and fair is womanhood, When once the name is understood.

Many there are who cannot see Anything good in poverty. But he who bears its trials well May save his faithful soul from hell I These trials once a woman bore And gained thereby of grace a store. Not many in their youth resign Riches in life fof wealth divine. I know not one in all the earth, Whate'er the sex or age or birth, For mortals all in this agree.

LEGEND OF THE HOLY ORAIL. 127

Bat Heneloide the rich ladie From her three lands afar did go — She bore such heavy weight of woe. In her was no unfaithfuhiessi As every witness did confess. All dark to her was now the son ; The world's delights she fain would shun. Alike to her were night and day, For sorrow followed her alway.

Now went the mourning lady good Forth from her realm into a wood In Soltane the wilderness ; Not for flowers, as you might guess ; Her heart with sorrow was so full She had no mind sweet flowers to pull, Bed though they were and bright, or pale. She brought with her to that safe vale Great Gahmuret's her lord's young child. Her servants, with them there exiled. Tilled the scant glebe with hoe and plough. To run with them she'd oft allow Her son. And e'er his mind awoke She summoned all this vassal folk, And on them singly, woman and man. She laid this strange and solemn ban : Never of knights to utter word, ** For if of them my darling heard. And knightly life and knightly fare, 'Twould be a grief to me and care. Now guard your speech and hark to me, And tell him naught of chivalrie."

With troubled mien they all withdrew And so concealed the young boy grew Soltane's greenwood far within. No royal sports he might begin Save one— to draw the bow And bring the birds above him low With arrows cut by his own hand, All in that forest land.

But when one day a singing bird He shot, and now no longer heard Its thrilling note, he wept aloud. This boy so innocent yet proud, And beat his breast and tore his hair This boy so wild yet wondrous fair.

128 QEOBGE M. HARPER.

At the spring in the glade He every day his toilet made. Free had he been from sorrow Till now when he most borrow Sweet pain from birds. Into his heart their music pressed And swelled it with a strange unrest. Straight to the queen he then did run ; She said : " Who hurt thee, pretty son ? " But nought could he in answer say — 'Tis so with children in our day.

LfOng mused the queen what this might be, Till once beneath a greenwood tree She saw him gazing and sighing still, Then knew 'twas a bird's song did fill Her darling's breast with yearning pain And haunting mystery.

Queen Herzeloide's anger burned Against the birds, she knew not why ; Her serving-folk she on them turned And bade to quench their hated cry, And chase and beat and kill In every brake, on eveiy hill. Few were the birds that flew away And saved their lives in that fierce fray ; Yet some escaped to live and sing Joyous, and make the forest ring.

Unto the queen then spoke the boy : " Why do you rob them of their joy ? " Such intercession then he made, His mother kissed him while she said : " Why should I break Ood's law and rob The birds of innocent delight?" Then to his mother spoke the boy : ** O mother, what is God ? "

" My son, in solemn truth I say He is far brighter than the day, Though once his countenance did change Into the face of man. O son of mine, give wisely heed, And call on Him in time of need. Whose faithfulness has never failed Since first the world began. And one there is, the lord of hell, BladL and unfaithful, as 1 tell ;

LEGEND OP THE HOLY GBAIL. 129

Bear thou towards him a courage stoat, And wander not in paths of doabt"

His mother taught him to discern Darkness and light ; he quick did learn. The lesson done, away he'd spring To practice with the dart and sling. Full many an antlered stag he shot And home to his lady mother brought ; Through snow or floods, it was the same, Still harried he the g^ame. Now hear the tale of wonder : When he had brought a great stag low, Burden a mule might stagger under. He'd shoulder it and homeward go I

Now it fell out upon a day He wandered down a long wood-way And plucked a leaf and whistled shrill, Near by a road that crossed a hill. And thence he heard sharp hoof-strokes ring. And quick his javelin did swing. Then cried : ** Now what is this I hear ? What if the devil now appear, With anger hot, and grim ? But, certain, I vrill not flee him I Such fearful things my mother told — I ween her heart is none too bold."

All ready thus for strife he stood. When lo ! there galloped through the wood Three riders, shining in the light, From head to foot in armor dight. The boy all innocently thought Each one a god, as he was taught. No longer upright then stood he, But in the path he bent his knee. Aloud he called, and clear and brave, ** Save, God, for thou alone canst save I * The foremost rider spoke in wrath Because the boy lay in the path : " This clumsy Welsh boy Hinders our rapid course.'' A name we Bavarians wear Must the Welsh also bear : They are clumsier even than we. But good fighters too, you'll agree.

9

ISO OEORGE M. HARPER.

A graceful man within the round Of these two lands is rarely found. That moment came a knight In battle-gear dedight, Galloping hard and grim Over the mountain's rim. The rest had ridden on before, Pursuing two false knights, who bore A lady from his land. That touched him near at hand ; The maid he pitied sore, Who sadly rode before. After his men he held his course. Upon a fine Castilian horae. His shield bore marks of many a lance ; His name — Kamachamanz, Le comte Ulterlec.

Quoth he : " Who dares to block our way ? " And forth he strode to see the youth, Who thought him now a god in sooth, For that he was a shining-one : His dewy armor caught the sun, And with small golden bells were hung The stirrup-straps, that blithely swung Before his greav^ thighs And from his feet likewise. Bells on his right arm tinkled soft Did he but raise his hand aloft. Bright gleamed that arm from many a stroke, Warded since first to fame he woke. Thus rode the princely knight, In wondrous armor dight.

That flower of manly grace and joy, Karnachamanz, now asked the boy: ** My lad, hast seen pass by this way Two knights that grossly disobey The rules of all knight-errantry? For with a helpless maid they flee. Whom all unwilling they have stolen, To honor lost, with mischief swollen." The boy still thought, despite his speech, That this was (rod, for so did teach His mother Herzeloide, the queen — To know Him by his dazzling sheen. He cried in all humility :

liEGEND OF THE HOLT GRAIL. 181

" Help, God, for all help comes from thee I " And fell in looder sapplianoe yet Le file du roi Gahmuret.

"I am not God," the prince replied, "Though in his law I would abide. Four knights we are, oouldst thou but see What things before thine eyen be.'*

At this the boy his words did stay : ** Thou namest knights, but what are they? And if thou hast not power divine Tell me, who gives, then, knighthood's sign ?" ** King Arthur, lad, it is. And goest thou to him, I wis That if he gives thee knighthood's name Thou' It have in that no cause for shame. Thou hast indeed a knightly mien." The chevalier had quickly seen How God's good favor on him lay. The legend telleth what I say. And further doth confirm the boast That he in beauty was the first Of men since Adam's time : thb praise Was his from womankind always.

Then asked he in his innocence. Whereon they laughed at his expense : " Aye, good sir knight, what mayst thou be. That hast these many rings I see Upon thy body closely bound And reaching downward to the ground?" With that he touched the rings of steel Which clothed the knight from head to heel, And viewed his harness curiously. " My mother's maids," commented he, *' Wear rings^ but have them strung on cords. And not so many as my lord's."

Again he asked, so bold his heart: "And what's the use of every part? What good do all these iron things ? I cannot break these little rings."

The prince then showed his battle-blade : " Now look ye, with this good sword's aid, I can defend my life from danger If overfallen by a stranger. And for his thrust and for his blow I wrap myself in harness so."

182 GEOBOE M. HABPEB.

Quick spoke the boy his hidden thought : ** Tis well the forest stags bear not Such coats of mail, for then my spear Would never slay so many deer."

By this the other knights were vexed Their lord should talk with a fool perplexed. The prince ended: ''God guard thee well, And would that I had thy beauty's spell! And hadst thou wit, then were thy dower The richest one in heaven's power. May God's grace ever with thee stay." Whereat they all four rode away, Until they came to a field In the dark forest concealed. There found the prince some peasant-folk Of Ilerzeloide with plow and yoke. Their lot had never been so hard, Driving the oxen yard by yard, For they must toil to reap the fruit Which first was seed and then was root.

The prince bade them good day. And asked if there had passed that way A maiden in distressful plight. They could not help but answer right, And this is what the peasants said : ''Two horsemen and a maid We saw pass by thb morning, The lady, full of scorning. Bode near a knight who spurred her horse With iron heel and language coarse."

That was Meliakanz ; After him rode Kamachamanz. By force he wrested the maid from him ; She trembled with joy in every limb. Her name, Imaine Of Bellefontaine.

The peasant folk were sore afraid Because this quest the heroes made; They cried : " What evil day for us ! For has young master seen them thus In iron clad from top to toe, The fault is ours, ours too the woe ! And the queen's anger sure will fall With perfect justice on us all,

LEGEND OF THE HOLY GBAEL. 188

BecaoBe the boy, while she was sleeping, Came oat this morning in our keeping."

The boy, nntroabled by such fear, Was shooting wild stags far and near; Home to his mother he ran at length And told his story ; and all strength Fled from her limbs, and down she sank, And the world to her senses was a blank.

When now the queen Opened her eyelids' screen. Though great had been her dread She asked : ''Son, tell me who has fed Thy fancy with these stories Of knighthood's empty glories?" ** Mother, I saw four men so bright That God himself gives not more light ; Of courtly life they spoke to me And told how Arthui^s chivalry Doth teach all knighthood's office To every willing novice."

Again the queen's heart 'gan to beat. Hb wayward purpose to defeat She thought her of a plan To keep at home the little man.

The noble boy, in simplest course. Begged his mother for a horse. Her secret woe broke out anew ; She said : *^ Albeit I shall rue This gift, I can deny him nought. Yet there are men," she sudden thought, " Whose laughter is right hard to bear. And if fool's dress my son should wear On his beautiful shining limbs. Their scorn will scatter all these whims. And he'll return without delay." This trick she used, alack the day ! A piece of coarse sack-cloth she chose And cut thereout doublet and hoee, From his neck to his white knees. And all from one great piece. With a cap to cover head and ears, For such was a fool's dress in those years. Then instead of stockings she bound Two calfskin strips his legs around.

1S4 * GEORGE M. HARPER.

None wonld have said he was the same, And all who saw him wept for shame.

The qaeeo, with pity, bade him stay Until the dawn of a new day ; " Thou must not leave me yet,'' beseeching, " Till I have given thee all my teaching : On unknown roads thou must not try To ford a stream if it be high ; But if it's shallow and clear Pass over without fear. Be careful everyone to greet Whom on thy travels thou mayst meet, And if any grey bearded man Will teach thee manners, as such men can, Be sure to follow him, word and deed ; Despise him not, as I thee reed. One special counsel, son, is mine : Wherever thou, for favor's sign, Canst win a good woman*s ring or smile, Take them, thy sorrows to beguile. Canst kiss her too, by any art, And hold her beauty to thy heart, 'Twill bring thee luck and lofty mood. If she chaste is, and good.

" Lachelein, the proud and bold. Won from thy princes of old — I'd have thee know, O son of mine — Two lands that should be fiefs of thine, Waleis and Norgals. One of thy princes, Turkentals, Received hb death from this foe's hands ; And on thy people he threw bands."

" Mother, for that 1*11 vengeance wreak ; My javelin his heart shall seek."

Next morning at first break of day The proud young warrior rode away. The thought of Arthur filled his mind. Herzeloide kissed him and ran behind. The world's worst woe did then befall. When no more she saw young Parzival (He rode away. Whom bettered be?) The queen from every falseness free Fell to the earth, where anguish soon Gave her Death's bitter boon. Her loyal death

I.EGEND OP THiT HOLY GRAIL. 136

Saves her from hell's hot breath.

'Twas well she had known motherhood I

Thus sailed this root of every good,

Whose flower was humility,

Across that rich-rewarding sea.

Alas for us, that of her race

Till the twelfth age she left no trace !

Hence see we so mnch falsehood thrive.

Yet every loyal woman alive

For this boy's life and peace should pray,

As he leaves his mother and rides away.

In the remainder of the third book and in the fourth, Parzival meets with many adventures and incurs a great deal of trouble in following his mother's singular advice, and reaches Arthur's court only to be laughed at for his out- landish garb. But he comes away determined to win a place for himself at the Round Table. The counsels of his mother are supplemented by the advice of a wise man, Gurnemanz, whom he encounters, to the effect that he must never ask questions, no matter what may excite his curiosity. His days are henceforth spent in riding on in the hope of finding fit occasions for exercising his bravery and gallantry. In Book V he encounters, one evening, a sad-faced, richly-dressed Fisher beside a lake, who directs him to his castle, where he will find refreshment. On riding thither Parzival finds grass in the court-yard, a sign that no jousting takes place there. He is well received and bidden presently to appear before the Fisher- King, who turns out to be the old man whom he met fishing. Him he finds wrapped in furs upon a couch beside the middle one of three great marble fireplaces in the hall. This spacious apartment is illuminated by a hundred chandeliers and con- tains a hundred other couches, on each of which recline four knights. Aromatic wood blazes on the hearths. Parzival now is bidden to take his place beside the king. Presently a young attendant bears through the hall a long lance dripping blood. At this sight all the spectators break forth into cries of lamentation. A stately and magnificently-attired band of

136 OEOBOE M. HARPER.

noble ladies now enter, bearing candles and the appurtenances of a banquet. At last appears the queen-maiden Repanse de Scheie herself, who for her purity is permitted to cany the Grail. This she sets before the king, and retires to the midst of her four and twenty virgins. Then a hundred tables are brought in and set, on each of which other attendants place a bowl of water and a towel for hand-washing. Each table is waited upon by four pages, with every mark of religious awe. Four wagons roll through the hall with drinking vessels, which are distributed to all the tables. A hundred pages take from before the Grail white napkins containing bread, which they distribute, and from the Grail indeed come food and drink to all desiring. Parzival, mindful of Gurnemanz' counsel, forbears to ask the meaning of these marvels, and remains silent even when the king, presenting him with a costly sword, mentions that he is suffering from a grievous wound.

When the repast is concluded, the food and utensils disap- pear in the same order in which they came. There is evident disappointment at something Parzival has done or failed to do, but he is led away to sleep in a grand chamber, where dreams torment him in the night, and where he awakes in solitude next day, to find his armor at his bedside and prep- arations made for his immediate departure. In vain he calls. The castle is empty and silent, and he rides forth at last in troubled wonder. A page instantly raises the drawbridge behind him and reproaches him for not having questioned his host. He presently encounters a lady, who tells him he has been on Montsalvat, where no man arrives except unknow- ingly. When she learns of his omission to inquire the meaning of what he saw, she blames him bitterly for the fatal mistake, and he rides sadly away. The king was Anfortas, keeper of the Grail. All this, and Parzival's failure to inquire the cause of his wound, are announced to Arthur and the knights, on ParzivaPs return among them, by Kundrie * the sorceress, the

^ There is in this Kandrie, " the loathly damsel/' the bearer of the Grail's decrees, as treated variously in the different romances, a hint of the G^r- aianic Walkure, and more than a hint of Herodias.

LEGEND OF THE HOLY GBAIL. 137

dreadful mesaenger of the Grail. She curses Parzival^ who in despair, and distrusting even God himself, rides forth once more, dedicating his life to the quest of the sacred symbol. Those knights whom he overcomes with his spear he sends on parole to seek the Grail for him.

Omitting the long series of adventures by Gtiwan and others, and by Parzival himself, which intervene, we find him in the ninth book overcoming a knight of the Grail who has offered him battle because he came too near Montsal vat. Parzival takes the knight^s horse, which wears the sign of the Grail, a dove. On Good Friday Parzival turns in at the hut of a hermit, who reproves him for his irreligion, and to whom Parzival confesses that for several years he has not set foot in a house of Grod because of the hatred he bears in his heart toward Him. The hermit instructs him in heavenly matters and especially in the history of the Grail, whose divine origin he sets forth. It is a rich and wondrous stone, called lapis exiUiSy endowed with miraculous power of sustaining life. It has the virtue of gather- ing about it those whom it elects, and by them it is watched. Anfortas, king of these knights and chief guardian of the Grail, sinned in seeking earthly love, and was sore wounded. Only one thing could restore him : spontaneous inquiry into his condition by some one who should arrive unwittingly at the Grail Castle. When the hermit learns that his guest has had this opportunity and failed to accept it, he blames him severely and tells him further of the mystic art of the stone : how every Good Friday a dove comes down from heaven and places the sacramental wafer on it, and how it indicates its chosen keepers in a miraculous writing which appears upon its side.

Fourteen days pass tlius in high converse between Parzival and the hermit, until the latter absolves the young knight, now filled with the one longing — to find his name written on the divine stone. And in the fifteenth book, while sitting at Arthur^s Round Table, after many days of weary search, he is surprised by Kundrie the messenger, with the news that he has been chosen King of the Grail, and that his son Loherangrin shall succeed him in that office. He hastens to the Castle, casts

138 GEORGE M. HARPER.

himself before the Grail, and asks Anfortas the cause of his pain. Instantly the aged sufferer is healed and becomes beautiful as sunlight. The former ceremony is repeated with great splendor.

The poet then relates how Loherangrin was sent as husband to the young duchess of Brabant, how a swan drew him to Ant- werp in a boat, how the duchess disobeyed his request, which was the Grail's command, not to seek to know his origin, and how in sorrow he withdrew.^

From a poem of 24,810 verses it has been impossible to give more than the absolutely essential features referring to the Grail. There are long passages which would repay reading even yet, either in the original or in Simrock's very literal translation into modern Grerman. When we compare the moral elements of Wolfram's story with those of the Faust legend as Goethe found them, the question arises : What might not a modern Grerman poet make of this great epic of faith ? Although origi- nality of incident may be denied Wolfram, yet it seems to me that the spirit of his story, and particularly of the Young Par- zival episode, is both personal and national. The recognition of a close relation between theology and conduct is one thing which distinguishes Wolfram's PamvoZ from all earlier versions of the legend.

Appendix A. — ^Translation of extract from Wolfram given on pages 106-108 :

From him now Parzival learns the hidden story of the Grail. If anyone had asked me about it before, and been angry at me for not telling it to him, his grumbling would have been in vain. Kiot bade me keep it secret, because the " Aventure*' commanded him to guard it still undivulged ; no one was to learn it until in the course of the narration the time came to speak of it. Kiot, the well-known master, found in Toledo,

' This request and its consequence, like Parzival's refnuning to ask concern- ing Anfortas and the troubles caused by his not doing so, point to the ultimate connection between this romance material and the fairy literature not only of Europe, but of Asia.

LEGEND OF THE HOLY QRAIL. 139

lying thrown away, and in heathen writing, the story which treats of the Grail. He must first have been acquainted with the characters A, B, C, without necromancy. The grace of baptism stood him there in good stead, or the story would be still untold. No heathen art could e'er avail us to disclose what is revealed of the GraiPs character and power. A heathen, Flegetanis, was held in esteem for his rare arts. A seer, he descended from Solomon, arriving from Israelitish blood ages ago, before baptism was our shield against the tor- ment of Jiell. He wrote about the GraiPs history. He was a heathen on his father's side, this Flegetanis, who still prayed to a calf as if it were his God. How dare the devil work such contempt on such wise peoples ? Will the hand of the All- highest, to whom all wonders are manifest, not deign to keep them from it? Flegetanis the heathen could announce to us well the outgoing course of all the stars and their future return — how long each has to go till we see it at its goal. Human fiite and being are to be read in the march of the stars. Flege- tanis, the heathen, when he turned his gaze toward heaven, discovered mysterious lore. He spake thereof with hesitating tongue : There is a thing called the Grail. In the stars found he its name written as it is called. '^A company which flew again to heaven, whether drawn home by grace or disfavor, left it on the earth. Then baptised fruit [Christians] tended it with humility and pure discipline. Those men are always worthy who are required for the GraiPs service." Thus Fl^etanis wrote of it. Kiot, the master wise, began to seek in Latin books where there could ever have been people worthy the honor of tending the Grail and nourishing chastity in their hearts. He read the national chronicles in Britain and else- where, in France and Ireland, until he found the story in Anjou. There in unfailing truth he read about Mazadan, and found all written correctly about his race; and on the othet* hand how Titurel and his son Frimutel delivered the Grail to Anfortas, whose sister was called Herzeloide, by whom Grahmuret had a child, of whom these stories tell. .

140 GEOBOE M. HARPER.

Appendix B. — Meaning of the name Fisher King.

I must b^ attention here for a speculation of my o wn^ which^ oeing nothing more, should not be allowed to affect the ques- tions still at issue regarding the origin of the legend, especially as Professor Rhys and Mr. Nutt, with something more than speculation, have developed an entirely contradictory idea. They connect the episodes of the Fisher King, and this appel- lation itself, with a number of Irish stories, for which great antiquity is claimed, and which do indeed seem related to the pagan mythology of Scandinavia. But it has occurred to me that the fishing of the king may have been attributed to him because of his name, and that the names Roi Pteheur and Fisher King are only old translations of the word Herodius, which itself was wrongly written for Herodes. Attention was long ago, in Germany, called to the numerous allusions to St. John the Baptist that occur in the Grail legends. San Marte and Simrock, fifly years ago, pointed out the resemblance between the Grail knights (in Wolfram called Templeisen) and the Templars, who were accused of worshipping a miracle-working head. In the mabinogi the Grail is a salver containing a man's head floating in blood. Wagner's treatment of Kundrie is not far from what seems to have been an idea hovering in the minds of some of the earliest creators of the l^nd, namely that she was Herodias, or possibly the daughter of Herodias, pursued by a ^'cniel immortality." Ijet us suppose that the '^ great Latin book," or some lost Latin original, contained the word Herodes where we find roipMieur in the French. A slovenly or ofiicious copjrist might easily make it Herodius. Another copyist or a translator, taking this for a name derived from a common noun, might translate it into French. Herodius is the name of a bird. It occurs twice that I know of in the Vulgate : in Deuteronomy 14, 16, where the English has "the little owl," and in Psalm 104 (Vulgate 103), 17, where the English has "stork." The exact meaning of herodius is unknown, but it would not be strange if this copyist or translator had rendered it by roi pMieur, English kingfisher.

Geoboe McLean Harpeb.

PUBLICATIONS

OF THE

MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION OF AMERICA,

1898.

(Vol. vin, 2.)

New Series, Vol. I, 2.

III.— THE HISTORICAL DEVELOPMENT OF THE POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS IN ITALIAN.

Introduction.

The Po68essive Pronouns existing in literary Italian are :

fMO	MEUM,
miei	MEI,
iuo	TUUM,
tuoi	TUI,
auo	8UUM,
guoi	SUI,
nostro	NOSTRUM,
fiostrt	N08TRI,
vodro	V08TRUM,
vostri	VOSTRI,

muz

mie

iua

tue

ffua

sue

nostra

nostre

vostra

vostre

MEAM, MEAE, TUAM, TUAE,

SUAM,

SUAE,

N06TRAM,

NOSTRAE,

VOSTRAM,

VOSTRAE.

These literary forms, as given, are found in the earliest texts. But a mere casual reading of the texts will reveal also many variants; this makes evident the fact that a succession of stages or steps was gone through before the above forms were adopted

• 141

142 I^ EMIL MENOER.

as the r^ular ones. The simplest method to be followed in discovering what these successive stages of development were must be to begin with the earliest texts in which the variants were sometimes the rule^ and follow the occurrence of these variants in chronological order down into those texts in which they are exceptions ; thus finally arriving at literary monu- ments in which no variants occur, but where they have been merged completely into the prevailing literary forms.

Such a study involves the investigation of one of the most interesting and difficult questions of Italian Philology ; namely^ the development of the Latin hiatus vowels £ and u.

In the course of a research carried on as just suggested are discovered irregular forms which appear and disappear without any apparent preceding stage, and leaving no successors on their disappearance. At a certain time in the history of the Italian language there is a frequent use of the anomalous mia, tua, 9ua; they are found with the plurals of masculine and femi- nine nouns alike. This is the sole marked irregularity in the use of plural Possessive Pronouns in Italian, and for a full imderstanding of the general subject of the pronoun in this language, the appearance of these abnormal forms must be accounted for.

The study thus divides itself into two parts : first, it must be determined what the irregular forms are ; they must be ex- plained and eliminated ; then the development of the regular forms can be discovered. A division of the material within these limits is carried out in the following monograph. In Chapter I the insular mia, tuay sua, and all irregular uses of the Possessive Pronouns connected with these forms, are con- sidered. In Chapter II the regular developments are taken up which can be understood only when definite hiatus laws for £ and u have been established, — so that in this chapter (II), in addition to the Possessive Pronouns, all words in which these hiatus vowels occur are studied. When, from a considera- tion of all the phenomena, the laws of growth are discovered, these laws are applied to the development of the Possessive

ITALIAN POfiSEBSIVE PBONOUNS. 148

Pronoans which are thus seen to evolve regularly and aooord- ing to fixed principles from the Latin.

The following texts have been examined ; they comprise the works of Tuscan authors for a period of three hundred years^ from Guittone d'Arezzo (1260) to Torquato Tasso (1696). As it may be of interest to students of Italian to know where cer- tain rare editions which are included in this Bibliography were foundy I will state that all such works mentioned were con- sulted in the Biblioth^ue Nationale^ Paris. There also are to be found the works of the early Italian grammarians who will be quoted in the course of this monograph. The authors will be referred to hereafter as A^ B^ C^ etc.^ according to the letter of the alphabet placed in front of their names.

A. — Guittone d'Arezzo : (In) Rime di diversi antichi autori Toscani in dieci libri raccolte. Venegia^ 1632.

B. — Chiaro Davanzati : (In) CoUezione di Opere inedite o rare, in, 1-177 ; 261-266 ; 387-389.

C. — Cino da Pistoja : Le Rime di Messer Cino da Pistoja, ridotte a miglior lezione da Bindi e Fanfani. Pistoja^ 1878. Also in A.

D. — Riccomano Jacopi : Libro della Tavola di Ric. Jac, edited by Carlo Vesme, (in) Archivio Storico Italiano, 3* serie, Vol. xvm (1873).

E.— Dante da Maiono : In A, pp. 74-90, 134, 138, 140, 141.

F. — Albertano di Brescia: Volgarizzamento dei Trattati Morali di Albertano Giudice di Brescia. Fatto innanzi al 1278. Trovato da 8. Ciampi. Firenze, 1832.

G. — Ricordi di una Famiglia Senese del secolo dedmoterzo (1231-1243). Pub. by G. Milanesi in Archiv. Stor. Ital. Appendice, Vol. v. Firenze, 1 847.

H. — Ranieri Sardo: Cronaca Pisana di Ran. Sar., Dall' Anno 962 sino al 1400. Pub. by F. Bonaini in Archiv. Stor. Ital. Vol. VI, parte 2% pp. 73-244. Firenze, 1845.

I. — Fiore di filosofi e di molti savi, attribuito a Brunetto Latini. Testo in parte inedito, citato dalla Crusca, e ridotto a

144 U EMIL MENGEB.

miglior lezione da Antonio Cappelli. (In) Scelta di curiositi letterarie o rare^ Vol. LXiii. Bologna^ 1866.

J. — Lettere Yolgari del seoolo xm, scritte da Senesi. Pub. by Paoli e Piocolomini in Scelta eoc.^ CXYI. Bologna^ 1871.

K. — Dodici Conti Morali d^Anonimo Senese. Testo inedito del seoolo xiu, pub. da Zambrini. Scelta ecc., ix. Bologna, 1862.

L. — Conti di Antichi Cavalieri. (In) Giornale Storico della Letteratura Italiana^ Vol. ni, pp. 192-217. Torino, 1884.

M. — Le ciento Novelle Antike. Bologna (Gualteruzzi), 1626.

N. — La Tavola Ritonda, o Plstoria di Tristano. Pub. in two vols, by F.-L. Polidori in CoUezione di Opere inedite o rare. Bologna, 1864.

O. — Guido Cavaloanti: Le Rime di Guid. Cav. Testo critico pubb. dal Prof. Nicola Arnone. Firenze, 1881. Also in A.

•P. — Dante: Le Prime Quattro Exlizione della Divina Commedia letteralmente ristampate per cura di G. J. Warren, Baron Vernon. Londra, 1868.

Q. — Petrarca: Rime di Pet. 2 vols. Padova, 1819.

R. — Jaoopo di Pistoja : Statuti dell' Opera di S. Jacopo di Pistoja, volgarizzati Panno moccxiii da Mazzeo di Ser Giovanni Bellebuoni, con due inventaij del 1340 e del 1401. Pubb. da S. Ciampi. Pisa, 1814.

S. — Bindo Bonichi : Rime di Bind. Bon. da Siena. Scelta eoc., Lxxxii. Bologna, 1867.

T. — Guido da Pisa : II Libro chiamato Fiore d'ltalia. Bologna, Oct. 26, 1490.

U. — Ricordi di Miliadusso Baldiccionede' Casalberti. Pubb. da Bonaini e Polidori in Archiv. Stor. Ital. Appendice, Vol. vm, pp. 17-71. (First record 1339, last 1382.) Firenze, 1860

V. — Boccaccio : (1) L'Amoroaa Fiammetta di Messer Giovanni Boccaccio. Vinegia, 1576. — (2) Ameto, over Com- edia delle Nimphe Florentine compilata da Messer Giov. Booo. Venegia, 1634. — (3) II Decamerone di Messer Giov. Booo. Venetia, 1471.

ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PBONOUNS. 146

W. — Giovanni Fiorentino : II Pecorone. 2 vols. Milano, 1804.

X. — Fazio degli Uberti : Opera di Faocio Degliuberti Fio- rentino Chiamato Ditta Mundi. Venetia^ 1601.

Y. — Forestani : Storia d'una Fanciulla Tradita da un suo Amante. Di Messer Simone Forestani da Siena. Ed. da Zambrini. Scelta ecc.^ vi. Bologna^ 1862.

Z. — Sercambi : Novelle di Giovanni Sercambi. Ed. da Alessandro d'Ancona. Scelta ecc., cxix. Bologna^ 1871.

AA. — Saechetti: Novelle. 3 vols. Milano, 1804.

BB. — Zenone da Pistoja : La Pietosa Fonte. Ed. da Zam- brini. Scelta eoc., cxxxvn. Bologna^ 1874.

CO. — Lamenti Storici dei secoli xrv, xv e xvi. Raocolti di Medin e Frati. Scelta ecc.^ ocxix. Bologna, 1887.

DD. — I Cantari di Carduino ; giuntovi quello di Tristano e Lancielotto. Pubb. per cura di Pio lUjna. Scelta ecc., csxxxv. Bologna, 1873.

EE. — Leon Battista Alberto : Hecatomphila di Messer L. B. Alb. Vin^gia, 1534.

FF. — Gambino d'Arezzo : Versi. Ed. da Gramurrini. Scelta eoc., clxiv. Bologna, 1878.

GrG. — Pulci : I Fatti di Carlo-magno e de' suoi Paladani. Opere del Morgante. Date in luce per Pulci. Venetia, 1481.

HH. — Poliziano : Stanze, POrfeo ed altre Poesie. Milano, 1808.

II. — Burcelo : Li Soneti del Burcelo Fiorentino. Veniegia, 1477.

J J. — Lorenzo de' Medici : Poesie. Firenze, 1859.

KK. — Bojardo : Orlando Innamorato(Berni's Rifacimento). 4 vols. Milano, 1806.

LL. — Bernardo Bellincioni : Rime. Ed. da Fanfani. Scelta eoc, CLi. Bologna, 1876.

MM. — ^Benvenuto Cellini : Opere. 3 vols. Milano, 1806.

NN. — Ariosto : Orlando Furioso. 5 vols. Milano, 1812.

OO.— Machiavelli : Opere. Milano, 1804. Vol. i, II Principe ; Vol. vni, Commedie.

146 L. EMIL MENGER.

PP.— Pietro Bembo : Opere. Milano, 1808. Vol. i, Gli Asolani.

QQ. — ^Trissino : Opere. Verona, 1729.

RR. — ^Leonardo Salviati : Opere. Milano, 1809. Vol. i, Commedie.

SS.— Torquato Tasso : II Goffredo. Vinegia, 1580.

TT. — Bateoehio, Commedia di Maggio. Composto per il Pell^rino logegno del Fumoso della Congr^a de^ Rozzi. Scelta ecc., cxxii. Bologna, 1871.

UU. — Giosud Carduoci : Studi Letterari. Livorno, 1874.

Chapter I.

Ibbegulab forms of the Possessive Pronouns with

especial reference to the two-gender

PLURALS mia, tua, 8tia.

1. OoUedion of all irregular uses in texts examined.

I do not hold the opinion that irregularities which occur in the singular had anything to do with corresponding ones in the plural ; that, for instance, mia in mia cavallo (supposing such an example to exist) had anything in common with mia in mia eavalli. But such an opinion has been expressed. Schuchardt, in writing of a kindred topic, says : ^ '^ Gel^ntlich der Formen mia, tua, muiy m5chte ich hier eine Frage vorbringen die aller- dings mit der Hauptfrage Nichts zu thun hat. Ich finde uberall nur von ihrer pluralischen Verwendung gesprochen ; ich habe mir aber vor fast einem Vierteljahrhundert in Rom, allerdings nicht aus gehorter Rede, uud auch nicht aus Belli, sondem aus andern Schriflen in romischer Mundart Falle wie fijo mia, er nome mia, a commido sua, lo sposo mia, u. s. w. auf- gezeichuet. Kommt nun Solches wirklich in der Volkssprache vor ? "

^LUeraturblaU, Dec, 1891, ool. 413.

ITALIAN POeSESBIYE PRONOUNS. 147

NoWy to ascertain the truth of the connection, if any exist, between singular and plural irregularities of the kind under discussion, I have noted all irr^ular uses occurring in the singular as well as in the plural and treated them in the first part of this essay, where I have attempted explanations of them. I then show that these irregularities in the singular cannot be the origin of like irregularities in the plural, nor those in the plural the origin of corresponding forms in the singular. My plan is to mention in chronological sequence all the texts I have consulted giving the irr^ularities in the following order :

First Person,	Masc. Sing.	Fem.	, Sing.
u	" Plu.	u	Plu.
Second Person,	" Sing.	u	Sing.
u	" Plu.	u	Plu.
Third Person,	" Sing.	u	Sing.
t(	" Plu.	a	Plu.

The discussion of these pronouns is reserved until the full list of texts has been examined wherein all forms are omitted that are not concerned in the development of mia, tua^ 8v>a. (A few texts will be mentioned in which no irr^ularities occur, but these authors are given to show the extent of the occurrences in the period of time represented by the texts quoted as bearing directly on my subject.)^

A. — In the few pages of this collection which contain the poetry of Guittone no irregularities occur.

B. — This author sometimes uses the atonic forms mV (masc. and fem.) and 8u' (masc.). — tuo = tuoi : p. 68, li too jUgli. — suo = 8uot: p. 14, li stwfilgli; p. 167, i stio senUnanli,

C. — mie* = miei : p. 4, occhj mi^, — tuo = turn : p. 229, de' tuofgli. — 9Uoi = sue : p. 81, In quelle parti, chejuron gid, *uaf.

D. — suo^ = 8uoi: p. 1, 8uo' sanli.

^NaatrOy etc^ vo^rOf etc, are directly from nostrum, etc., vobtbum, etc., with no inteirening stage in the development, and they will therefore not be mentioned again.

148 L. EMIL MENGER.

E. — No irr^ularities.

F. — <u^ = ftto; p. 10, iu^ viaggio. — tuo^=tua: p. 51, &i tw> vohrUd. — tiAo'^ituoi: p. 6, t ivjcf fadi; p. 47, li vecchi itw^; p. 65, tuo' avermrii; p. 66, tiw' nemid; p. 73, iuo' consiglu — tuoi = tue: pp. 15, 27, le iuoi parole. — su'=8Uo: p. 36, 8U* Mtamenio. — suo' = 8uoi: p. 19, li 8ii>o' capeUi. — wun = 8ue: p. 76, per suoi parole,

G. — No irregularities.

H. — €u^=8iui: p. 161, coUa su^ arme. — stun ^= sue: p. 84, le siboi rughe; p. 86, le auoi intraie, le auoi oastella; p. 94, le euoi genti; p. 95, a 9uoi apeae; p. 114, di sum cose,

I. — No irr^ularities.

J. — No insularities.

K. — No irregularities.

L. — mei = miei, p. 211. — suoi = sue : p. 205, le cose suoi. — suoe = sue : p. 208, ossa suoe.

M. — ^No irregularities.

N. — mi^ = mia : pp. 479, 486, 487, per muf fi, — suo' = suoi: p. 78, suo' baroni; p. 284, suo^ fratelli ; p. 324, suo^ jigli,

O. — mV^=mio: p. 24, mV parere; p. 43, mi' core, — mie = mio: p. 65, mie spirito (variant). — ta'=ztuo: pp. 14, 61, ft** pensamerdo ; p. 71, tu' amore. — su' = suo: p. 15, su' riso; p. 16, su' valore; p. 18, su' viso, etc., su* thus occurring sixteen times. — suo ^ sua : p. 4, suo virtu e suo potenga (variant). — mi^ = miei: p. 64, mie* martiri; p. 74, mie? foU occhi. One of the manuscripts from which variants are given (Laurent. B. xy cent.) reads mia in the following cases where the editor has adopted mid for the published text: pp. 20, 26, occhi mia; pp. 35, 48, mia spiriti; p. 64, mia desiri. Several other vari- ants read mei in these instances.

P. — mei = miei : Inf. i, 23, parerUi mei ; xiv, 6 ; xxxi, 33, occhi rriei; xxvi, 41, mei compagni; Purg. i, 6, 29 ; IV, 29 ; X, 39 ; XXI, 42 ; xxrv, 34, occhi mei ; i, 38, mM passi ; iii, 41, peccati mei; xvii, 4, mei compassi; xxxi, 5, f rati mei; XX VII, 23, mei saggi; xxviii, 20, prieghi met; Par. xvii, 37, mei carmi ; xxiii, 27 ; xxvi, 38 ; xxvii, 4 ; xxx, 25 ; xxxi,

ITAMAN P068E88iy£ PRONOUNS. 149

47, occhi mei. — mie = miei: Inf. x, 28, mie popoli; xv, 32, oreochie mie; xvni, 14; xxv, 49, occhi mie; xxvi, 41, mie Gompagni; xxxin, 13, miefgliuoli; Purg. i, 6 ; vin, 29 ; x, 39, occhi mie; i, 38 ; xxv, 42, mie jxzssi; xi, 21, mie maggiori; xni, 38, mie anni; xxiv, 48, mie doUori; xxx, 47, prieghi mie ; xxxi, 8, mie desiri ; Par. xiv, 26, 28, occhi mie ; iv, 3, mie dubi; xvi, 10, mie blandim£nti ; xvi, 16, mie maggiori; xvn, 37, mie carmi; xxrv, 20, mie concepti; xvii, 29, mie piedi. — ioi = tuoi: Inf. XX, 34, toi ragionam^nU; xxn, 11, toi concepti, — tui = iuoi : Inf. x, 14, maggior tui. — bw = iuoi : Inf. V, 39, tuo marriti; xxvi, 2, iuo cUadini; xxx, 40, iuo fraieUi; Purg. i, 28, tito regni; vi, 37, ttu) gentili; XI, 47, tuo vidni; xiii, 7, tvo raggi ; Par. xi, 7, tuo pensieri; xxi, 6, occhi tuo ; xxvin, 20, too diti. — tuoe = tue : Inf. n, 46, parole tuoe. — doi = 8uoi: Inf. I, 19, 8oi peneier ; ix, 38, soi termini; XI, 14, soi beni; xix, \\,8oi conforti; xix, 12, soi torti; xxm, 18, soi pie; xxix, 14, soi conversi; Purg. iv, 41, atti soi; vn, 44 ; xxvii, 42 ; xxi, 37, occhi soi; Par. XV, 12, occhi soi. — sui = suoi: Inf. n, 26, cerchi sui; III, 21, inimici sui; ix, corpi sui. — suo = suoi: Inf. IV, 20, suo ncUi; xix, 11, suo conforti; Purg. i, 12, suo capelli; in, 6; vi, 19, suo raggi; XXI, 12, suo pie; xxvri, 18, occhi suo; xxvii, 36, suo belli occhi; XXIX, 4, suo passi; Par. xvi, 20, suofigli; XX, 3, suo died- ; xxiii, 1, suo nati ; xxxi, 23, suo m^riti; xxxn, 2, suo piedi. — su^e = sue : Inf. xiii, 34, suoe spaUe. — su4) = sv^ : Inf. XIV, 12, suo schieri; Purg. IV, 7, su>o spine; ix, 13, suo bra^sda; xxvni, 9, suo picciol onde; Par. vii, 37, le suo vie. A variant to Purg. ix, 13, reads le sua braccia.

Q. — mi€^ = miei: i, 162, mie^ affanni ; ii, 196, mie' ingegni; mi^ arti. — tuo^ = turn: ii, 1 2, tv>o' ingegui; ii, 144, tuo^ piedi. — suo^=^suoi: I, 35, suo^ laudi ; ii, 176, suo^ argomenU.

R. — miei = mie : p. 2, alle miei mani.

S. — tito = tu<i: p. 201, ki tuo derrata. — tv^' = tuoi: p. 185, tuo^ scahi. — su^^=^suo: p. 174, su^ or. — su^=zsua: p. 1, su^ arte. — sua = suoi : p. 42, sua fatti (variant).

T. — mei = miei occurs twenty times.

160 L. EMIL MENGER.

U. — mio := mia : pp. 29^ 30, metd, mio (on both pages oocura also mdd mia). — miee = mie : p. 26, nipote miee, — mwe ^ sue : p. 63; stLoe spesie,

V. — MammeUa. mei^=miei: p, 23, mei con/orti; p. 138, mei danni, — mie = miei : p. 136, mie desideri. — tuo = tuoi : p. 32, tuo sudditi. — suo ^ suoi : p. 43, suo homeri.

Am^to, mie = miei: p. 8, mie aspetti. — mei = miei: p. 31, desiderij m^, — too = tuoi : p. 24, tuo verai. — suo = auoi: p. 42, suofruUi; p. 78ySuocompagni. — »ua=8ue: p. 56, lesuacoma; p. 67, fe /a6ra «iea.

Decamerone. mei = mf«t occurs eleven times. — miei = mie .• Lbj 3,* le miei novelle. — tuoe = tue : Yiiij, iuoe node^ tuoe pro- measUmi, — suo = auoi : Cb, suo discendenti ; H, suo oJicicUi. — suoe = sue : Zb, mioe robe.

W. — No insularities.

X. — mie = mia : giiij 8, &i mie aperama ; qiiij 2, la mie guida, — mi ^ mia: hiiij, mi voglia. — mie = miei occurs seven times (ci. auij 6, bij, eij, nj, guij, kij, Duij 8), and mei=:mte% twenty-two times (cf. Aiiij 7, Bj, ciiij, diiij 9, etc.). — miei = mie: eiiij 2, le miei confine; iiiij 2 ; kj, 2e miei giente; kij, li^ magine miei; Eiiij, siiij 4, le parole miei; t, fe miei guide. — me = miei : eiij, f wi€ danni. — me = mie : diiij Q^leme ziglia. — tuo = tuoi : C, tuo brevi prologi. — mie = mio : fij, oZ sue desio; Oiiij 8, c/ sue nome ; ciij, rf sue grembo. — sua = suo : giiij, j:>«r «ia dardano; Dj, c/ m^aschio sua. — suo ^ «^ occurs twenty- four times (cf. diiij, eiij, fiiij, hj, etc.). — sue -= sua: diiij 2, la sue spoglia; hiiij 6, la sue luoie; Aiiij 2, fa «i€ virtu. — 0tu> = «tia.* giiij 6, ogne suo virtu; hiij, la suo matricola; miij 2, ogni suo empresa; piiij 2, siu) arte; piiij 8, «t^o posta; uiiij 3, «uo gioma; 9j, suo pincema; Jfriiij 7, fa *uo tromha. — suoi = sue: siiij 3, fe «tioi schiumi; tij, fe «^ confini; z, wwh pendice. — «uo = 9t^: diiij 6, le suo porti; tiiij, le bataglie suo; fiiij, le suo

^ In looking for this reference it will be neceflsaiy to count three pages forward from the folio lettered Lbj. This system is obeeryed in giving references to all editions diyided according to folios.

ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 151

9orte; niiij, le suo arte; piiij 7, qiiij; le suo cose; qj, le suo ripe; siij, le suo parole; tiiij 6^ le stio rene; 9iiij 6, le sorelle suo.

Y. — fnie^ = miei: p. 35, passi mie^; p. 42, i mU? giomi. — tuo = iuoi : p. 44, iuo' paesi.

Z. — miei = mic ; p. 109, de* mi« roic; p. 240, le miei bri- gate. — iuoi^=tue: p. 240, delP opere ttun; p. 98, tuoi gioie, — suoi=:8ue: p. 11, suoi gare; p. 169, fe *uot ingiurie; p. 170, fe 8Uot infinite (cose); p. 84, fe «t^ figliuole; p. 176, fe «tioi aoritture; p. 228, fe «uat ^erre; p. 260, le suoi genti; p. 260, U moibrigaie.

AA. — mie? = miei: ii, 13, mie' di; n, 211, miV afj^ori. — mia = miei: i, 139, K /otti mia; n, 248, ceHi mia faUi; ni, 179, a mia parenti. — mia = mie: n, 77, le mia forme; iii, 6, mia dipinture; ni, 217, le cami mia. — tuo' = tuoi: ii, 122, con tuo' strufinaccL — suo' = 8Uoi: i, 76, suo' parenti; i, 77, «tto* vioini; i, 198, suo' da:g ; iii, 185, «uo' pari; ni, 336, mto' ca«i. — sua^=suoi: i, 6, sudditi sua; I, 124, «ua cavaUi; I, 200, «^ /afti; in, 251, sua panni. — sua ^= sue: n, 98, le came sua,

BB. — mie^ = miei: p. 55, e^ miff chiotd. — tuo^=tua: p. 6, la tuo moneta; p. 39, tuo misericordia; p. 71, lo. tuo gran cor- tesia; p. 60, la tuo m^nte; p. 81, la tuo beatrice. — tuo = tuoi: p. 59, tuo disii. — suo' = suoi: p. 35, di suo' guai; p. 70, ne suo' versi. — su'=siui: p. 16, la su' arte. — suo = sy^: p. 4, suo ira; p. 53, suo possa; pp. 45, 85, 88, la suo vita; p. 79, la suo ghirlanda; p. 68, la suo gran chiarezza; p. 71, la suo vida; p. 80, la suo luce; p. S6y suo partema ; p. 89, suo volonta; p. 89, «M0 bocca; p. 90, *uo bitanda. — suo = sue: p. 83, «mo oose.

CC. — tuo' = tuoi: p. 266, K <uo' dofci occAi.

DD. — mie = mio: pp. 5, 12, wie padre. — mie^mia: pp. 14, 26, mie madre; p. 17, mie soreHa; p. 49, mte rito; p. 52, mie leanza; p. 59, mic spada. — iuo=itua: p. 13, tuo naaione, tuo madrey tuo condizione; p. 18, tuo soreUa ; pp. 32, 58, tuo bontade; p. 52, tuo contrada; p. 54, tuo presenza; pp. 58, 62, tuo vita ; p. 61, tiu) posanza. — suo = sua: p. 4, ««) gente; p.

164 L. EMIL MENGEB.

I, 305, bisogni eim; i, 178, 220 ; ii, 234, sua danari; i, 217, sua birreschi ; I, 220 ; ii, 296, mui acudi; I, 331, sua domestici; I, 302, omamenti sua ; I, 368, *Ma oaporali ; i, 370, sua regni ; I, 379, vkj sua ; i, 388, medid sua ; i, 388, 403, 439, 448, sua servitotH; ly 390, tuUii sua^; ly 412, amid sua ; i, 4:52, segreti sua ; II, 377, sua piedi ; ii, 394, sua lavoranti ; ii, 442, sua eredi; ii, 12, 461, sua figliuoli; ii, 44, 377, sua cortigiani; n, 67, sua ribaldj ; ii, 303, sua stgretarj ; ii, 117, 117, nemid sua; II, 169, tempi sua; ii, 202, sua pari; ii, 445, sua voca- bolt; II, 486, sua confini; lu, 238, sua squadraiori; iii, 248, 248, sua modelli,

sua =z sue: I, 256, cose sua; ii, 30, Idtere sua; ii, 109, /a- cende sua,

NN. — miff = mid : v, 27, Ii mie* uguali ; xxxviii, 84, mie? figJi. — toi = tuoi: xxxv, 43, taiprigion (variant). — tuc?=iuoi: xxiii, 73, iuo^ vesiigi; xxxvni, 63, tuo^ infiniti, (A variant reads here tui.) — sue? = sum : xxv, 49, suo' begli occhi (vari- ant) ; xxv, 6, suo' amid (var.) ; xxxix, 33, suo^ amid (as a variant to this appears sua); xxxi, 82, suo' amid; XLi, 49, suo' amori, — sui = su>oi: iv, occhi sui; xvii, 114, cavalieri sui ; XVIII, 1 63, ivJtti i sui- ; xxni, 22 ; xxxvn, 36, fraJteUi sui; XXXI, 36, cugin sui; xxxiii, 18, servUori sui; xxxrv, 82, fatti sui; XLiv, 69, affanni sui; XLV, 44, de? sui-. — soi = suoi: xxxin, 124, soi baroni.

OO. — mie^ = mid: p. 276, mi^ affanni. — mia = mid: p. 267, miadesiderj ; p. 267, mia martiri; p. 396, j:>en««r mia. — tuo* = tuoi : p. 394, Uu)^ accenti. — iua =: tuoi : p. 260, tua con- fcrti ; p. 393, tua lumi.

PP, QQ, RR, no irr^ularities.

SS. — tuo = tua : p. 8, guerra tuo. — suo' = suoi : p. 4, suo' fanti; p. 28, suo' mali; p. 43, stw' mror; p. 62, suo' cad. — su* = suoi : p. 49, de' su' offid.

TT. — mie = mio: p. 63, mie male; p. 73, un mie pari; p. 78, el mie martire; p. 104, mie padron; mie difetto; p. 106, mie canto. — mie = mia : pp. 66, 64, 76, 86, la mie manza ; p. 62, mie dta; p. 86, mie dama; p. 88, mie persona; p. 104,

ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 156

title moglie; mie colpa. — tuo = iua : p. 58^ iuo beUa manza ; p. 86, la iuo aperanza ; p. 87, tuo voglia ; pp. 92, 98, too valentia ; p. 96, iuo moglie. — tuo = iue : p. 87, le tuo spalle, — suo = sua : p. 63, la suo vita, — mio^ = 8Uoi: p. 88, e^ mixf faJUti. — «im>* = Mie.* p. 76, U 8Uo^ mercanzie.

UU. — mie? = mio: p. 415, un mie? sparvier; p. 427, 7 mie? gparvero ; p. 428, 7 mie? diffetto ; p. 437, 7 mi^ amore. — mie? = mia : p. 408, mie? compagna ; p. 437, mief donna. — iuo^ = tua : p. 435, di tuo' biltaie. — «uo' = sua : p. 428, suo' ta/na ; p. 436, suo' pena. — suo'= sue: p. 425, di suo'penne; p. 442, le suo' alt.

lUsumS.

The following Table gives a r&um6 of the examples of irr^ularities noted above. The capital letters refer to the authors, the numerals to the number of times a given irregu- larity occurs in the author mentioned. Where forms were printed with the apostrophe, these are placed first ; the corres- ponding form without the apostrophe to the right of that with it.

mi?= mio, B, 02, FFl.

fiit'= mta, B. mi = mia, X2.

me=zmiei, XI.

me = mie, XI. iu'= iuo, Fl, 02. tu'=tuoi, KKl. «i'=«uo, B, Fl, 02, 81. su'=sua, HI, SI, BBl, FFl. su'= suoi, 881. su'z=sue, FFl.

mi^= mio, UU4. mie = mio, 01, DD2, III, TT6.

miV= mia, N3, UU2. mie = mia, X2, DD6, TT6.

mio = mia, U2. h4o'= iua, UUl. tuo = tua, Fl, 81, BB5,

.*%

166 L. EMIL MENOEB.

DDll, GG2, SSI, TT6. »iie = suOf X3. sua = 9uo^ X2. sue = sua^ X3. mu>'=sua, UU2. mio = ma, 02, X8, BBll, DDll, GGl, TTl.

mei = miei, Bl, LI, P22, T20, V14, X22, EE6, GGl, 118,

JJl, KKl. mie'=miei, CI, 02, Q3, Y2, AA2, BBl, FF4, HHl, JJl,

NN2,OOI. mie = miei, P25, V2, X7, GGl, III. tuo'=tu(n. F5, PIO, Q2, SI, Y2, AAl, CCl, FFl, JJ4,

NN2, OOl, TTl. tuo = tuoi, Bl, CI, V2, XI, BBl, EEl, III. suo'=suoi, Dl, Fl, N3, P14, Q2, AA5, BB2, FFl, JJl,

NN2, SS4, TTl. ^u) = suoi, B2, V5, X24, DD2, EEl, GG4, 112.

mieiz=mie, Rl, VI, X5, Z2.

tuoi = iue, Fl, Z2.

m(n = me, CI, Fl, H6, LI, X3, Z8.

miee = mi«, Ul.

tuoe = tu€y P1,V2.

suoe = 8uef LI, PI, Ul, VI.

iuo = tue, FFl.

mo'= me, JJl, TTl, UU2.

9uo = me, P6, X9, BBl, DD2.

mia = miei, 03, AA3, JJ3, MM157, 003.

mia = mie, AA3, III, JJl, LLl, MM8.

tua = hun, 111, JJl, MM7, 002.

iua = iv£f GrGl, JJl.

«ua = «uat, SI, AA4, III, MM51, NNl.

9ua = 8ue, PI, V2, AAl, III, MM3.

ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 167

2. IrregiUaritiea in the Singular discussed.

If we view the irregularities occurring in the singular as a whole, three general reasons for them suggest themselves.

First, it is to be remarked that in the greater number of cases the masculine is used for the feminine form (cf. Table, suo = suay tao = tu/iy etc.). In the plural the feminine is never used for the masculine. When the indefinite tuo\ suo\ as used for masculine and feminine alike (cf. Table, tuo = tuoi and ^U6, suo = suoi and sue), take on again the full forms tiboi and suoi for the masculine, not only are the regular tv>e, sue not adopted for the feminine in all instances, but tuoi, suoi are used for feminine as well as masculine (the same remark applies to miei; cf. Table, miei = mie; tuoi = tue; suoi = sue). We may say then that mto, tuo, suo, are used for mia, tua, sua (and this use includes the largest part of the irr^ularities) and thus follow this seeming general tendency to adopt masculine for feminine.

Secondly, the irregularities may have arisen from a desire (on the part of the writer or speaker) to indicate the sex of the possessor by using the masculine or feminine pronoun with r^ard to the possessor and not to the gender of the object possessed. In DD, wher^ the masculine form is so often used for both genders, the desire to differentiate sex may well be the reason for the masculine form, since, with few exceptions, the irregular possessives refer to characters of the male gender (Carduino, Tristano or Lanciel lotto), there being few other per- soni^es mentioned. Thus, in speaking of Carduino's mother, the writer uses (p. 12) suo madre, corresponding to English " his mother,'' whereas, if he had referred to the heroine's mother, he would doubtless have said sua madre, " her mother." — Or, again, such a use might have arisen in constructions such as are found in H, cf. p. 114, di suoi cose, o danari o panni, where the objects implied in the cose (panni and danari) are both masculine and the speaker probably in anticipation of their gender used the masculine suoi, — Again, it would be 2

168 L. EMIL MENGEB.

natural for irregularities to arise where there was a habit of separating the pronoun from its noun, as may be noted in S : p. 66, guai a chi nel tormerdOy sua mm prio spander voce ; p. 82, motto ho cercato e suo non trovo nome ; p. 83, et tua tool sentenza.

Thirdly, an explanation that might apply to all irregularities of the kind under discussion would be to take as points of de- parture the remnants of the atonic forms mi\ tu\ 9u\ which are sometimes found in literary productions and are constantly used by the people. We may assume that when a consciousness was aroused of the incorrectness of certain pronominal uses termina- tional vowels were added (to mi', iu\ «u'), but the speaker, being unaccustomed to proper grammatical forms, added these vowels at random, and hence the confusion of genders.

Any oue of these suggestions might explain, in a general way, the beginnings of abnormal forms, and once introduced, their use would naturally be extended ; but I think the following statement will account for the origin of the peculiarities under discussion in a more satisfactory way.

mie = mio and mia ; mio = mia.

In N, where the examples of per mie^ fh were noted, the editor (Parodi) says the ini^ is an abbreviation of the ancient *miea. Where miV is used as masculine, then, it was evidently in the mind of the writer that it was an abbreviation of ^rnieo. The scholar Carduoci had such a form in mind when he wrote the form with the apostrophe (cf. UU). In a discussion of these and other shortened forms oue must suppose that the original was with an apostrophe ; to think otherwise would be to become involved in inextricable difficulties. Thus mi^ as an abbreviation of mit-o and mt€-a would naturally be used for masculine and feminine alike.^ — An explanation of mio (= mid) follows here, for just as the abbreviated form m\£ was used for both genders, so, when the r^ular mio was again

» Cf. p. 166.

ITALIAN P068ESSIVE PRONOUNS. 159

adopted for the masculine, the difierenoe in termination was sometimes overlooked, aqd we find it used occasionally for the feminine also. A speaker who had been accustomed to using mitf as an indifferent form for masculine or feminine would be likely to use the regular mio and mia indifferently also ; we find mia used for mio only once, however, and then for the sake of the rhyme (cf. KK).

tuo = tua; 8UO = sua.

I think this use arose from a confusion with tuo\ 8uo\ as repi^esenting i%un^ tue, — sum, sue. We find these forms, tuo\ 8uo^ (written as often without as with the apostrophe) used promiscuously for masculine and feminine {tuoe and mioey written in full, occur in L, P, U and V,— cf. Table). It is easily conceivable how such a form, used thus for three parts of the possessive, — the masculine singular and masculine and feminine plural, — should have been adopted for the fourth (the feminine singular). I am convinced that this supposi- tion represents a highly probable mode of development of these abnormal constructions, for we find that in the same texts in which tuo, suo are used for one form of the possessive (the feminine singular, for example) they (tuo, suo) are also used for the other two forms, the masculine and feminine plural [cf. Table. In BB, DD, TT, X, for example, suo is thus equivalent to suoi, sue (under the form suoe) and mwi],

sue = suo and sua; sua = suo.

These three irregularities are found in one and the same text (X) — a fact which indicates that they were peculiar to this author rather than in general use (contrary to the pecu- liar uses just noted which seem to have been quite widely diffused; cf. Table). This writer also used mie thus indis- criminately for masculine and feminine, and may have carried its last vowel, -e, to sue, or, since we have suo used, for sua and sue, we expect an interchange in the opposite direction,

f^tr

160 I^ EMIL MENGEB.

where 9ue is used for Hua and mo. — I think any idea that this 9U0 was a remnant of stioe was lost with the majority of writers, fbr we find it in many texts written without an apostrophe before masculine and feminine nouns alike. Thus used, there was evidently no consciousness of any correctness of termina- tion, and one is not surprised to find it employed for all forms, nor, on the contrary, to see other forms substituted for it.

I do not claim that these suggestions are more than possi- ble explanations of the beginnings of the irregular forms under discussion. No one would suppose that in the mind of the average speaker there was an idea of the existence of any ety- mological ground for the irregularity he was employing.

I have ofiered no phonetical explanation because I cannot conceive of one. The fact that masculine singular forms pre- dominate does not necessarily indicate a disposition toward the use of -k) terminations ; for, to prove such a tendency in the language would involve a demonstration that parts of speech other than the singular possessive pronouns terminated thus irregularly in -o, and I do not think that such a phenomenon can be proved for the Italian. In addition to this, although the masculine form is used in the majority of cases yet other forms occur too often to admit of the possibility of such an explanation even for the possessive pronouns.

a. Irregularities in the Singular have no explanation in com- mon with that for the irregular plurals mta, tua^ sua.

It was observed in the beginning of this essay that I do not believe in any connection between the irregularities in the singular just spoken of, and like ones in the plural — mia, tua^ sutty which remain to be discussed. My reasons for this con- elusion are.

First, if mta, buiy stm are to be explained as extensions from the singular to the plural, it will have to be shown that they were so often used in the singular for the masculine, as well $B for the feminine, that they were finally adopted as the

ITALIAN POeSESSIYE PBONOX7N8. 161

general foims for both genders and numbers of the possessive pronoun on aooount of this frequency of usage. But, as shown above (of. Table), the opposite is the case, the masculine being the form most generally used, and, if such an extension had been carried out, mto, tuoy suo would have been the forms adopted, and not miay tua, sua. Mia occurs only once for mio (UU) and, in this instance, for rhyme ; sua for «mo, only twice (X). Also, because of the infrequency of such occur- rences, it would be very difficult to prove that the irregularity originated in the singular, — a fact which must be established if it is asserted that it was extended from singular to plural.

Secondly, considering the mixture of forms noted in the Table, it is natural to suppose that, for example, as arw was used for ^tea, suoi and stie, so sue might be used for suo, sua^ suoiy and sua for suo^ suoi, sue; that is, there was a promiscu- ous interchange of forms, and finally, for some reason, sua predominated (and similarly mia predominated over mio, mie, mieiy and tua over tuo, iue, tuoi) ; hence these forms as found in so many texts. But the fact that effectually annuls such a supposition is, that by comparison of texts where mia, tua, sua (plurals) are found with those where irregularities in the singu- lar occur, we discover that only two of the texts containing the mia, tua, sua forms have any irregularities in the singular (O and II ; cf. Table). In these two authors the plural forms can arise from no mixture with the singular, for the irregularity referred to in the singular is in the use ofmie for mio and sux) for sua (where in mie, mio, mia is not in question) ; and even if sua was used for suo, there would be no counection between it and *ua of the pluraal (= 8um or sue).

If these two objections just given were not sufficient of them- selves to militate against any supposable analogy of singular and plural irregularities, either by extension from singular to plural^ or by crossing of singular and plural, I should still fail to see the necessity of casting about for such an explanation when these fprms (mia, tua, su^) can be logically accounted for as plurals. And now, assuming it as pretty well settled that

162 L. EMIL MENGER.

the singular plays no part in the development of such plural forms {miaf tua, «tMi), I shall proceed to discuss them.

3. Notice taken by early grammarians of the irregular

plurals, mia, tua, sua.

The first notice of them that I find is in the work of Mutio.^ In discussing the Florentine as a model form of speech the writer says (p. 12) : " Ma per Dio v^giamo ancora un poco, quanto sia vera, che essi da' padre e dalle madre piccioli fan- ciulli la buona lingua apprendano. In quel libro del Tolomei lodansi le piu Toscane cittcL di Toscano si dcL loro questo vanto, che parlano, piu che le altre Fiorentinamente. Et dicesi in Firenze : I versi mia (etc., enumerating a number of similar irregularities) — ^nelle quali non si serva ne numero, ne genere, ne desinenza, ne forma di diritto parlare."

Again, a notice of them is found in a work by Beni ; ' the writer mentions defecrts of the Florentine speech and says (p. 42) : " Sicom anco il dir dua per due ; mia, tua, sua per mie, toe, sue,^^ etc.

4. Explanations offered by later grammarians.

Among the more modern grammarians we find these peculiar forms first mentioned by Blanc* He says (p. 277) : " Statt miei, tuoi, suoi; mie, tue, sue, liebten die Alten, besonders die Florentiner, mia, tua, sua" He gives three examples without comment.

Diez,* Gram, ii, 90, takes no notice of them, except in a footnote referring to the passage in Blanc just quoted.

Kdrting ^ does not mention them.

^Baltaglie di Hieronimo Mutio, per difeta deWItaliea lingua. Vinegia, 1582. ' Paolo Beniy V ArUienuca overo H Paragone dtlT lialiana Lingua, Padova, 1612.

*Orammatik der Iiaiidni»eKen Spraehe. Halle, 1844.

* Ofwrmnatik der Romamsehen Spraohen, 4^ Auflage. Bonn, 1876.

^EneyeU)p€edieundMeUwdologiederr(nnani»cKenPkiloU>gie, Heilbronn, 1886.

ITALIAN P068E88iyE PRONOUNS. 163

The only writer who has spoken of them at length is d'Ovidio, who in the Ardiivio OloUologico Itaiiano (ix, 1886 : footnote, p. 54), says : " Ognun ricorda i plurali ambigeneri nUa, iuGy ma, del toscano antico e moderno : forme popolari, comparse solo sporadicamente e timidamente, in tutti i tempi, nella lingua colta, e pur di vita tenacissima. lo vi ho sempre rioonoseiuto una bella continuazione del neutro plurale latino. Una ipotesi, fonetica, potrebbe sorgere a contrastare la nostra spiegazione morfologica dei plurali mia ecc. La grammatioa neo-latina, e la dialettologia italiana in ispecie, ci dcL oopiosa messe di -a epitetici oppur sostituentisi ad altre atone finali. GisL finora ne siam venuti dando, a pitl riprese, pareochi begli essempj, e qui possiam aggiungere il milan. indova {= dove), lad. niui, abruzz. donna {= donde), X&cxxse fraima {=fratelmo). Or, data questa tendenza all' -a, niente, si potrebbe dire, di pitl naturale che i pi. fem. mie, tue ecc. direttamente, e i msch. mieiy tuoi ecc. mercd Fapocope delP -t e la ritrazion dell' accento fattisi mi^, tuo^ ecc., si riducesser tutti a mia, tua ecc. Sen- nonchd, appunto la tendenza all' -a per ogni altro paese ^ stata dimostrata che per la Toscana ! E se mte' ecc. si fosse per sem- plice vezzo fonetioo fatto mia ecc., non si capirebbe come questo vezzo non attaccasse anche le voci del singolare ! L'essere sem- plici plurali quelli, h prova che I'origin loro 6 schiettamente morfologica."

a. Further suggestions which are unsatisfactory, met > mia by analogy to lei y- lia.

Meyer-Liibke, It. Grr.,^ § 375, afler quoting from this state- ment of d'Ovidio, makes another suggestion to the following effect : out of the shortened forms mfe', tuo\ suo\ as used for both genders, the full forms miei, tuoi, sum were developed and used for both genders (cf. Table). Now, just as these full two- gendered forms originated in the masculine plural, so mia comes from the masculine plural form met, and then is used for both

^Iialieni9che Orammatik, Leipzig, 1890.

164 L. EMIL MENOER.

genders similarly to miei, tuoi, stud. (Instances of met used for the feminine may be found in Orestomazia,^ p. 148, line 119| le mei vertude nd le mei force; line 120, le mei mani. But occurrences of it have not been noted in Tuscan texts ; the selection from which the examples just given were taken, is in old Venetian). The author's explanation of mia is as follows : *^ Wie in toskanischen Mundarten lei zu lia wird ' so konnte mia aus met auf lautlichem Wege entstanden sein, und ware im xrv bis XVI Jahr. auch in die Litterarsprache, wenigstens in die Prosa, gedrungen." — My objection to this theory is : met and lei as phonetical elements are not analogous, and the -et in the two words cannot be supposed to have undergone a like development because of the diflference in the preceding con- sonants, m and /. In X, fo. <&iij, occurs the form glia where I mouille was probably the factor which raised e to t, and the development of lia < lei (no matter at what stage of the lan- guage) always went hand in hand with the pronunciation of I as a mouille element ; it is impossible to omit the i in pronuncia- tion in removing the tongue from the mouillS to a lower posi- tion.*— Further proof that ia < ei is due to the preceding I mouille is found in the fact that no example of et > ta is noted in other words ; for example, ina (== ret), dia (= dei, dei), aia (= sei, sex) do not exist.^ [Dialectic sia (2nd. pers. sing. Pres. Subj.) and conditionals in -ria (for -rei) cannot be adduced as established illustrations of the phonetic change under discussion since there is no objection to supj)osing the former < V. L.

^Oreslomazia lUUiana dei Primi Seooli, Per Ernesto Monad. Fascicolo Primo. attJL di Oastello, 18S9.

'An example of such a lia may be seen in Oestomosto, p. 22, line 114.

' It wiU probably be objected to this that the process was the reverse of what I have indicated and that / did not become / moaill^ witil after e had become i. If this is true, i is the factor that developed / raouiU^, not / mouiU^ the one which developed t. The question cannot be decided until something more definite is known as to the history of this peculiar form lia.

^On p. 178 will be found an example of dia=dei (debeb), which would be a closer analogy for mei than lei is. But it probably owes its existence to a confusion with the Subjunctive Present dia-^dea^devcu

ITALIAN P068E88IVE PRONOUNS. 165

8EA8, and the latter had its origin in Imperfects in -eaJ] A further objection to mia < mei is evident in tua, sua^ unless these forms be r^arded as analogical to mia; but I can scarcely believe that forms of the second and third possessive pronoun are developed by analogy with a like form of the first person.

b. Result of position in stress-group.

Again, I have taken as my norm the precept of Neumann : ' ^' Wir mussen stets einen Satz im Auge behalten : ein Wort entwickelt sich nie an sich, sondern stets nur gemass der Stel- lung, die es im Satzzusammenhang einnimmt. So kann ein Wort, resp. die Silbe eines Wortes in verschiedenem Satzzu- sammenhange oft ganz verschiedene Betonung haben, es kann einmai den Hochton, ein ander Mai Nebenton oder gar keinen accent haben, wodurch naturgemass eine verschiedene Lautent- wicklung bedingt ist.'^ I have tried to apply this principle in accounting for the development of mia, tua, sua; for example, in MM, where such numbers of these irregular pronominal forms occur, of the whole number of mia combinations found (in masc. plu.) one hundred and thirty are before the noun, twenty-seven after it. Of the feminine plurals (mia) six are before the noun, two after it; of tua (masc. plu.) three are before the noun, four after it ; of sua (masc. plu.) thirty-six are before the noun, fift;een after it ; of sica (fem. plu.) the three forms found are aftier nouns. But these proportional uses show nothing, since the occurrence of more irregular forms before than after the noun simply agrees with the con- struction of the r^ular forms. — By glancing at the Table (p. 156) it will be observed that while the number of poets who employ these peculiar forms is greater than that of the prose writers, yet the use of them is so limited that no conclusion can be drawn from a study of the metre, rhyme, etc. It is evident, therefore, that the position of mia, tua, sua in the sentence does not assist in discovering their origin.

^ LUeraiurblaU, in, 467.

166 L. EMIL MENGER.

e. Phonetical reductions.

The phonetical development of these forms^ as mentioned by d'Ovidio (cf. p. 163) was not satisfactory to him, since he saw at once the inconsistency of positing that for the plural, wmV, iw>\ sue? were reduced to miaj tua, sua, but the singular forms, miOj iuo, suo, remained imaffected. I think if such a reduction had taken place, the reduced forms would have been mi, tUy 8U, and not with an -a borrowed elsewhere, — that is, reduction would have induced a shortening of the forms, not merely a change of final -e to -a. There is such a mi found. In O (p. 56, line 10, note) the editor (Prof. Nicola Arnone) says : " II mi non 6 che un' abbreviazione di mie^; '^ the sen- tence in which the mi, spoken of by him, occurred was " da 11 occhi mf[e'] pass5, etc." — Such a reduction of mie'> mia will be still more difficult to prove, when the examples of an oppo- site reduction on p. 176 are considered ; we there observe many instances of the first and third person present Subjunctive aia reduced to sie; so that mte, as used iu the feminine singular for mia, might have been originally a reduction of the latter;^ but for the opposite mi£^ mia the only analogy found is that of die Di£S> dia, but in this case the change is due to rhyme.

d. Mia adopted from a confusion of mie?= miei and mi^= mia (Sing.).

The form mie? (= ^rniea ?) noted above (cf. Table) might have had some influence in producing the irregular mia. On the supposition that it {mie*) existed by the side of the short- ened form of the masculine plural (mie^) there might have arisen in the minds of the people using them a confusion as to the difibrence of gender and number of the two. Thus, on analogy to the masculine M^us a m^a was formed out of which developed *miea, while out of the regular mea a mia also existed. We would then have :

» Cf. p. 168.

ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PBONOUN& 167

Masc. Plu. miei — mie?,

Fem. Sing, "^miea — miV — mia.

Now, when mie? (fem.) ceased to be used and mia was the only form existing, the masculine plural miV (= same as femi- nine mie^ which is supposed to be used no more, but is replaced by mia) might also have been changed to mia on account of this confusion of miV (fem. sing.) and miV (masc. plu.). This explanation 1 would regard as preferable to that of a phoneti- cal reduction ofmie^ to mia, since in the latter case the -a has to be explained (a thing not satisfactorily done up to the present), whereas on my supposition there is a crossing of two forms, one of which already had the -a. Given this analogi- cal effect as a starting point, might not subsequent speakers, having lost sight of its origin (as a crossing with feminine singular mia) have looked upon this mia (= miV masc. plu.) as a feminine also used indifferently for the masculine plural? Then tua, sua, feminine singulars of the second and third per- sons were adopted in the same manner for masculine plurals? The extension of the use (of mia, tua, sua) from masculine to feminine plural would be rendered all the easier from the fact that so many feminine plurals also ended in -a (from the Latin Neuters). The objection might be raised to this supposition that these forms, mia, tua, sua, are not also extended to the singular mio, too, suo, but the analogical development sug- gested above is sufficient answer to this ; I changed the -e of mie? (miei) to -a from the crossing of this form with an original -a (mia); and tiui, sua followed by analogy to this. Hence it would be inappropriate to ask of me why ttu) (sing.) does not go into tv4i as well as ty>o^ [tuoi). — This development would also have the merit of being evidently an early one, and there- fore capable of accounting for an early appearance of mia, tua, sua.

Though I hold this explanation of the phenomena before us to be more plausible than those offered up to the present, yet it is unsatisfactory also to me, for while it explains mia,

168 U EMIL MENGEB.

it does not explain tua, sua, which have to be supposed as analogous to rata: the latter supposition is contrary to mj assumption (cf. p. 165) that analogy plays no perceptible part in the development of the forms under discussion.

Risumi of tmacUiafactory explandtions.

After this brief review of opinions touching the development of the forms under discussion, I hold that the following explana- tions of mia, tua, sua are unsatisfactory for the reasons given above.

1. That they are extensions of irregularities in the singular.

2. That mia was developed from mei and then used for both genders as miei, tuoi, suoi once were so used. (This I consider as the strongest phonetical explanation suggested, but the pho- netic improbabilities that led me to reject it strengthens more firmly my confidence in the explanation given below.)

3. That the irregularities may have developed by virtue of their position in the sentence, as tonic or atonic, before or afl^er the noun (or otherwise).

4. That mi^, tuo\ suo\ (= miei, tuoi, wm) were reduced phonetically to mia, tua, sua.

6. That on account of a confusion in the use of mie? {miei) and miV (*miea ?), when mia was adopted as the only form of the feminine singular, mie? of the masculine plural was likewise reduced to mia,

5. Mia, tua, sua are remnants of the Latin Neuier Plural,

What explanation, then, remains ? A phonetical develop- ment is doubted ; analogy is not admitted ; therefore, the origin must be morphological, and the only morphological explana- tion tenable is that mia, tua, sua rest on the old Latin Neuter Plural. Strengthening such a supposition is the fact that we find many remnants of the old Latin Neuter in the noun present in the texts examined ; for example, in H, pp. 86, 98,

■>

ITALIAK POSSBSSIVE PRONOUNS. 169

101, oastella; T, ossa; V, AmetOy p. 66, le sua coma; p. 57, h labra sua ; E£, p. 21 , dva ciglia ; 6G, fo. q 2, dua braocia; fo. d, le tua mura; II, fo. fq 6, le sua alia; J J, p. 372, le membra mia; LL, p. 38, ossa mia; MM, i, 390, mia lenzuola. In F, p. 23, occurs tuda chotai chose. — Neuter plurals of the Latin were preserved in Italian as feminine plurals when they had collective significations,^ and it may be seen from the ex- amples just cited that mia, tua, sua are found before such nouns. I think that the existence of the irregular siui in Dante (Purg. IX, 13, fe sua braccia), where it has this collective signification, settles beyond doubt the origin of the form as a Latin Neuter Plural. What strengthens the supposition that this is a Latin form is, that Dante employs the Latin sui also.* — Now, from their (mia, tua, sua) use before original Latin neuters with collective meaning, they were next employed with words, not derived from Latin neuters, but yet having a dual significa- tion ; for example, in A A, ni, 179, mia parenti; J J, p. 70, oochi mia; MM, i, 310, mia piedi; mia (due) giovani, etc. Many of the forms noted in MM were used in connection with dua; in fact I think there must have been a strong analogy between these pronominal forms and diui, since as neuters they would often have a dual signification, and in addition to this here is a word (dua) whose formation is quite like that of tua, sua. Dua is used in O, GG, II, JJ, LL, MM and NN, and it is to be noted that in all of these texts the irr^ular mia, tua, sua occur, and especially that dua does not occur earlier than these forms do, but they (dua, mia, etc.) seem to appear together and to be used side by side, and that in the same texts Latin neuter plurals of nouns are pre- served. Thus all these phenomena (dua; mia, tua, sua; and the nouns) appear as a revival of the Latin Neuter under the influence of which all these forms seem to have arisen about the same time; the other forms parallel to mta, tua, sua

1 Cf. Meyer-Lubke, IL Or,, U 329 and 341.

' Cf. Zehle, Lout- und Flexionslehre in Dant^s Dwina Oommedia, Marbmg, 1886, p. 13 : " Neben toot, tuoi stehen bei Dante die Latinismen sui und tui.^'

170 L. EHIL MENGEB.

strengthen the supposition that these (mia, tiui, fnia) too are neuter plurals and not mere isolated examples. — Lastly, from the use of these pronouns before original neuters with collec- tive signification ; then before nouns, not neuters but having such signification, they were used indiscriminately before sub- stantives of all kinds, regardless of their meaning.

a. Time of appearance ; originated among the people ; extent of employ ; conclusion.

As may be seen from the Table (p. 156) the forms under dis- cussion are found in texts before Dante ; from the nature of their origin (as Neuter Plurals) we would naturally expect a line of direct transmission from the Tjatin; the fact, therefore, of their occurrence in the oldest texts is further proof of their origin from the neuter. Diez ' remarks : " Von einem Alti- talienischen im Sinue des Altfranzdsischen kann keine Rede sein ; die Sprache des xiii Jh. unterscheidet sich nur durch einzelne, namentlich volksmassige Formen und Worter, nicht durch grammatischen Bau, von der Spatern." The same applies to mia, tna, sua; they were first used by the early writers who employed them conscientiously as neuter plurals; from these neuter forms their use was extended by the people, with whom the forms have been in vogue ever since, appear- ing from time to time in literary productions.

Did these forms originate with tlie writers, and were they carried from them to the i)eople, or was the reverse the case ? Castelvetro, speaking of other words,* says : " Conciosia cosa che i popoli non prendano i vocaboli da poeti & spetialmente da simili a Dante & al Petrarca & a tali quali ha poeti la lingua nostra, che a pena sono letti & intesi degli 'ntendenti huomini con molto studio. — Non trassero dunque i nostri poeti le pre- dette parole da volumi de provenzali, ma delta commune usanza del parlare italiano." I think these remarks apply also to

* Oram, i, 79.

' (hrretUme daleune eo»e dd diaiogo ddU lingtu di Vareki, el una ffiufUa al primo libro deUe prow di M, Pieiro Bembo, Basilaea, 1572 ; p. 175.

ITALIAN P08SBSSIYE PRONOUNS. 171

miaf twiy sutty and for two reasons : firsts their existence in the Latin^ and appearance later in early Italian necessarily indi- cates their preservation by the people during the time for which we have no texts; and secondly, because, as may be seen from the Table, they were used most frequently by popular writers.

Extent of employ. The proportion in MM, where the great- est number of these irr^ular pronouns was found, is as follows :

miei^ 54 times, tuoiy 8 " «4o£, 68 "

fi.\jtM\/\AkAo VVCU9 xvruuvt, xa cao *v

mia (== miei), 167 times. tua (= turn), 7 " sua (= stun), 51 " mia {= mie), 8 "

mtfjiy oo sua [= suoi)^

mie, 189 " mia {=z mie),

tue, 17 "

sue, 145 " sua (= sue), 3 "

I have marked both regular and irregular forms through- out my reading, and I may give those of V as an example of the small proportion of irregular to r^ular constructions. la this author we find the regular

mieiy 211 times; mie, 144 times.

tuoiy 96 " tue, 57 "

suoi, 461 " «u«, 244 "

(Irr^ular forms from V have been given above, p. 150.) A like enumeration for the other texts would show a similar proportion.

Meyer-Liibke, after making his suggestion as to the develop- ment of mia (cf. p. 163) remarks : ' '' Genaue Untersuehungen uber die Verbreitung von mia in alter und neuer Zeit werden daruber Auskunft geben/' He and all other writers on the subject treat this irr^ularity as specifically Florentine. I have made the research he asked for, and among Florentine writers of four centuries, with the results indicated above.

» A Gr. 1 876.

172 l. emil menger.

Chapter II.

Regular Forms of the Possessive Pronouns.

A. Tonic e and i in hiatus; mio; miei.

1. Previous treatment of hiatus e.

This subject has been treated, aceordiDg to my knowledge, as follows : Meyer-Lubke says : * " Im Hiatus steht fur e vor t der Diphthong ie, vor den anderen Vokalen i ohne Buck- sicht darauf ob fy e oder i zu Grunde liege : mio, mia, mie : mieiy dio, rio, di und dia, zio, sia, pria, via, io, cria. A Is Buchworter sind reo bei Brunetto und Dante, We, rea bei Dante zu betrachten. — Beachtenswerth sind ven.-pad. pria neben piera (petra), drio Cort." — Again:* " Vortonvokale im Hiatus sind selten, meist sind i, e und u in dieser Stellung schon im Vulgarlateinischen zu i, u geworden, daher furs Itali- enisohe, Konsonanten. In Buchw5rtem oder bei sekundarem Hiatus bleibt meist der Vokal unverandert, doch zeigt e vor o and e Neigung zu i zu werden : lione, niente aber reinaJ' — Further, d^Ovidio : ' " i im lateinischem Hiat beharrt als i oder wird wieder zu *.• via, sia, pria, eft vom arch, die, dia. (Indirekt gehdrt auch brio hierher, das von brioso ebriosus abstrahiert wurde).*' — Again : * " Es giebt eine Reihe Worter, die den Diphthongen nicht haben und die doch nur volkstiim- lich sein konnen : sei Verb, sei Zahlwort, ^ est. — 8ei Verb, welches es ist mit vorgeschlagenem s von sono, lautete einst siei; das erste i wurde ausgestossen durch Dissimilation und auch in Folge haufiger proditischer Stellung des Wortes ; das- selbe gilt von sei sex, obschon es ein tosc. siei nicht giebt. Die Proclisis erklart auch ^ est.'' — Also : * " Eine eigene Gruppe

> A Or. 196. •JWAJHl.

* In Orundri8$ der Bomani»chen PMloloffie, Heraosg. Ton QiutaY GrSber. StrasBburg, 1S8S. i, 603, { 16.

*0rundri8iy I, 612, { 26. ^Orundriss, I, 614, { 29.

ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 17S

bilden die Worter, in denen e im Hiat steht : dies wurde zuerst zii ie und verengte sich dann unter dem Einfluss des Hiats zu i: dio=*di€0 DEUS, arch, rio reum, arch, etna great, mio, mia, mie meus, io *eo. Gelehrt oder halbgelehrt sind dagegen : dm, f/ez, reo^ crea. In miei mei behauptete sich i€= e nnter dem Einfluss des Schlussvokals." — Finally Caix remarks:^ " Tutto questo c'induce a concludere che nella prima lingua poetica le forme con e dovettero essere di gran lunga le pii^ frequenti. — Ma nel Toscano fin dai piil antichi documenti non s'incontrano che forme con i, Dante scrisse Deo solo in rima e il Petrarca raramente meo. — Da notare ^ solo quanto a reus che rio e del verso, e reo della prosa.''

These quotations include many words which will come up for discussion in the present division of this monograph ; their occurrence, as well as other forms to be considered, is repre- sented as follows in the texts consulted :

10,— A20,' B133, C ruV I>'^ E20, F rule, Gl, H4, 111, JllO, K161, M, N rule, 026, P rule, Q rule, Rl, S16 ; rule in T, U, V, W, X, Y, Z, AA, BB, EE, FF, GG, HH, JJ, KK, MM, NN, OO, PP, QQ, RR, SS.

fo,— A57, B2(), E75, Fl, L14, 04, Si, XI.

mio,— A 13, B59, C rule, E6, F rule, Gl, 12, J 15, K46, L4, N rule, 05 ; rule in P, Q, 8(7), T, U, V, W, X, Y, Z, AA, BB, CO, DD(19), EE, FF, GG, HH, JJ, KK, LL, ^MM, NN, OO, PP, QQ, RR, SS, TT(8).

meo,— A38, B32, E76, L2, CCl, XI.

mia,—Bl2e, C rule, E48, F rule, 13, Jll, K21, O rule, P rule, Q rule, Rl, SI, Tl ; rule in U, V, X, Z, A A, BB(32), DD(13), EE, FF, GG, HH, KK, MM, PP, TT.

w6«, — El, X2.

^ Or iff lit I (hUa Lingua Poeticii Jtaliana. Firenze, 1880. <^ 14.

•The numeral following a capital letter represents the number of times a form occurs in the given author.

''Rule' indicates that a given form is found to the exclusion of variantii of the same.

176 L. £MIL MENGER.

sU {= 1st pers. Subj. Prea) ,— TTl/ Pl.^

sie (= 2nd pers. Subj. Pres.),— P3,^ V6,* 112,* TT4/

sie {= 3rd pers. Subj. Pres.),— PI/ V3.«

mi (=si.s), — PI.*

«H(=m, ES),— V2/«Z1."

dui (= 3d. pers. Subj. Pres. oi' dare), — C rule, Fl, Hi, J7, Kl, Nl, Rl, T rule, DD3, KK6, TTl.

dea (= 3d. pers. Subj. Pres. of dare),— m, Dl, M3," N2,»* P2," V6J* •

dil (= 2nd. |3ers. Subj. Pros, of dare), — VI. ^'^

die (=3d. pers. Subj. Pros. ofdare),—J)Dl.''

' p. 55 : d'onomr un tal giomo Don sic ingnito.

' Fui^. XX, 14: prima che (lo) sie morto.

•Parg. XVI, 5: Guania, che da me tu non nie m<)Z/x>; Par. xv, 16: benc- deito sie iu; Par. xxix, 22: sie {tu) certo.

^ Deeam. fo. C (twice); fo. Lb; fo. Miij ; fo. Y.

*fo. ez: fa (tu) che non sie ()oIac() ne tedesHM); fo. fq. 8: I^^iolo mio, *i> vago du dire co8a ecc.

•p. 58: che tu non sie veduto; p. 78: che /m xiV nostra; vogliam che tu |i> 1a nostra dania ; p. 86 : che tu sie bcnedetta.

' Purg. XXX, 36: Perche sie colpa. " Sie is the reading of three of the Mstt., sia that of one.

* Decani, foe. Cij ; Cbj 6 ; Xiij.

'Purg. XX, 4; one Mh. here reads: maladettji .<ia tu, the three others nie.

'"l>eca>/i. fo. ()bj2: 4uanto tu sii du me amata; Amtto^ p. 78: /u 8ola sit donna di me.

" tu sii la ben tornat^i. Cf. here // Torto e H l>iritio del non si Pno^ data in yivMieio sopni molte reyole delta lint/un Jttdinnn. Ewiniinato da Ferrante Lon- gobardi. Koma, 1(>55, p. 77: Tu sii e tu sia si dice ugualmente bene ne tempi che cotal terminatione riccvono. E simile delle altre nianiere de' verbi che '1 soflrono ; avegna che alcuni scrittori e infra gli altri il Boccaccio habbiano pin volentieri tiniti cost fatti tempi delle Hcconde persone in i che in a.

••pp. 25,35. »»pp. 50, 457.

'*Inf. xxxiii, 42: Innanxi ch'Atropos mo88a le dm; Purg. xxi, 5: Dio vi dea pace.

^'^Decam. fo. Jbj 8, 9: Dio gli den il buon anno ; Dio mi dea la gratia sua ; fo. I Ijv : se Dio ti dea buona ventura, etc.

^*AinetOf p. 50: inmuizi che tu dii materia di turlKimento. '^ Dio ti die grazia.

ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 177

deano (= 3d. pers. Plu. Subj. Pres. ofdare)^ — VI.*

stia (= 3d. pers. Pres. Subj. of stare), — Bl, II, Kl, Rl, Tl.

8tea (=3d. pers. Pres. Subj. of stare),— B2, M2,* P5,' VIO/

stii (= 2nd. pers. Subj. Pres. o{ stare), — BBl.* steano (=:3rd. pers. Plu. Subj. Pres. of stare), — VI. ^

deve,—C2, Si, T4, SS3.

dee {=deve),—B2, C7, D9, E2, F6, H3, 116, M3, N30, P, R4, S7, Tl, Vrule, XI, AA2, FFl, GG4, KK6, LL6,. SS5.

de (= deve),—B7, C6, Dl, F68, H6, Nl, P, S6, T5, U rule, XI, Z8.

de (= dei, debes),— F28, Zl .«

di (= deve), — N.*

die (= deve),—G rule,*° J7, Kl2," N3," S2, T9, EEl."

^Deeam. fo. Dbj 2.

'pp. 10, 13: non piaccia che I'anima slea in prigione. ' Inf. XXXIII, 41 : Come il mio corpo sten ; Purg. ix, 48, Quando a cantar con organ! si stea ; Purg. xvii, 28 : Se i pii^ si stanno, non stea tuo sermone ; Par. n, 33: Fa che * * * ti stea un lume ; Par. xxxi, 15: E spera gik ridir com' ello stea. *AmetOf p. 39 : che seguer i suoi placer, convien che stea A tal dover con I'animo suggetto, Che quel che se non vuole, altrui non dea.

ibid, p. 43 : voi dovete imaginare come egli stea. ibid. p. 61 :

£t di quel caldo tal frutto si crea Che se ne acquista il conosoere iddio Et come vada, «& venga, & dove stea.

ibid. p. 77 : sia adunque * « * et dea al vero effetto. Decam. fo. Hbj 4 : luna qui si sten dentro ; also fos. Pbj 2, Qbj, Xiij, Yb, Aaiij, Aabj 9.

* XXIX, 26. • p. 8 : non vo' che tu stii.

'/>«caTO. fo. Xiij. *p. 61.

•p. 24: vostra fine non rff essare There is a note to this as follows Intendi, rfi* per die^ o dee^ o rfe*. Come qui presso ed al trove : </«' essare.

*®d«y, dee and c/«* do not occur in this text.

" First example, p. 36.

**p. 12: si die pensare; p. 34: gli porti '1 censo che gli die dare; p. 37 : uomo die morire. "che die venire.

178 L. EMIL MENGER.

dU (= dei),—KV

dea (= dem),— 81, FF2.*

dia (=: deva), — S4.*

dia{=dei),—Tl.'

dei (= deve)y — F7.*

deono (= derono),— Dl, H4, J3, Nl, V rule, Z2.

diaiu) (= devono), — LI.*

dieno (= devono), — PIJ

dia (= dies),— DD2.8

Z>i6 (= Die, Deus),— DD1,» TT1.^«

feon^,— I, Ml, N3, Ol, P5, T8, X, Y, BB rule, GG22, SS3, LL5.

lione,—N15, Pi, Tl, CCl, GG51.

feoni,— Ml, Nl, T3, GG2, SSI.

ftoni,— N13, GG5.

feafe,— Al, Bl, El, M rule, N49, 8 rule, FF rule.

^An evident contraction of diet.

'p. 100: dea: OUarea; p. 120: come dea far chi vuol prender dottrina.

*The variants of different Mas. of the canzoni of this author read alter- nately dee, die, dia and dea. The two latter are equivalent to deve in mean- ing) but the -a shows that they must be substitutions of Subjunctive for Indicative.

* priego che tu mandi colui che tu dia mandare.

^p. 9: parolle non dei usare cAi, etc. p. 12: ti dei muovere; p. 66: sheila si fae 81 come non dei; p. 66: (egli) non dei curare. — Aside from any pho- netic reason that may be assigned for this form, a reasonable explanation may be found in the indiscriminate use of dei for both second and third person singular. On the same page occurs a direct admonition : *Uu non deij ece./' and immediately afterward follows an indefinite statement: *' egU non deif ecc."

' p. 200 : le gioie che d'amore diano venire.

^ Purg. XIII, 7 : Esser dien sempre li tuoi raggi duci. — In various texts occur the forms beo {bevo)^ creo (credo) f veo (veygio). In N are many examples of bee, bea (cf. pp. 158, 471) which are always printed with the circumflex accent, b^, bid, as is also dSe.

' p. 5 : dia : mia ; p. 31 : dia : partia ; die also occurs in a few cases.

'p. 15 : Difi ti mantenga.

»«p.72: che Die gU dia.

ITAUAN P06SE8SIVE PBONOUN8. 179

«ofe,— LI, N26.

fodt,— N14.

/tafi,— NIO.

foanzo,— Bl, CI, El, N4.

Uama, — N6.

r«afo,— rule in H, I, N(3), T, BB, FF, SS.

reame,— CI, H rule, JIO, M4, Nl, rule in T, V, X, Z.

iomeamento, — N35, PI.

tomiamento, — N22, PI.

nmno,—F rule, 17, J27, K9, L2, M3, N14, VI, Z13.

nt«no,— CI, H28, 127, M18, NlOO, T16, V4, Zl, EE, II rule.

nema,—F rule, 14, J13, K7, L4, N32, Z3.

mw»ia,— H8, 124, M8, N102, F5, EE rule.*

neenU,—Cl, K3, Ml 5, S3, Z15. *

ntenfe,— C, H3, 18, K5, SIO, rule inV, X(2), Y, Z(20), FF, II, LL(1).

The examples given above (pp. 173-179) will now be used in the consideration of three questions which arise in a study of hiatus £ :

Does hiatus prevent the development of i> c?

Does hiatus close £^ thus making it i f

Does hiatus prevent the development of £> ief

2. Does hiatus prevent the development of I> ef

Where i is found alike in a Latin and Italian word, has it been preserved in the latter directly from its Latin form, or has it first developed into e (as it does in positions other than hiatus) and then been raised a^in to i ? In a treatment of this question, the following words must be considered : 6rio, dia and die, pio, pria, quia, aia, stria, via.

^The proportional use in the Bandi Luccfieai del mc. XIV. Bologna, 1863, is: n«ttno, 42, newna^ 118. nivoko^ 9, nmno, 3.

180 L. EMIL MENGER.

brio (< EBRlo, — are).*

This word does not occur as breo,

dia and die (= d!em).

That this word passed through an e- stage (*de, *dea) is hanlly probable ; a comparison with other Romance languages indicates that it did not thus develope in a part of the field, at least ; for it is found preserveil in Sardinian (die), Provencal (dw, dia), Old French (rf/V) and Spanish (dia),

pio (= Plus).

Cori'e.sponding to this is />io, Span,, piu-n Prov., and no pre- ceding e- stage is to be supposed for either of these languages.

pria (= prIa).

This word exists only in Italian, and no preceding *])rea has l)een noted for it.

quia (= quIa).

It is hardly to be questioned that quia is a preservation of the Latin form.

sia (=8iM and six).

In this set of Tuscan texts examined by me, no form sea occurs. It is remarkable that autliors who use dia and dea (dare), stia and stea {sdare)^ should seem to recognize sia as the only form for this verb; the fact that dea and ntea are found in tiie earliest texts and as late as Bojardo, while aea does not so occur, seems to indicate that, for the Tuscan, sea never existed. The parallelism does not appear between the Tuscan and northern dialects, such as will be noted in the case of hiatus 0.* The latter developed o in both of the territories just indicated but e out of hiatus If is found only in the North.*

KKscoViy A rchiv. Glot. ftnl., ii I, 455. * Cf. p. 176. * Cf. p. 201 .

^Examples of sm may be found in the CWntomazia: pp. 80, 1. 44 ; 102, 1. 20; 105, 1. 147; 112, 1. il3; 113, 1. 134; 135, 1. 15; 137, 1. 28; 141, 1. 87; 145, I. 14, 20; 14(), 1. 41, 48, 55; 147, 1. 05, 60.— A statement as to the dis- like of the Tuscan for the ^-forms is found in Ampiiaiione deUa lingua voigare

ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 181

This word should not be included in the examples given by Meyer-Liibke/ for from his rule we are to understand that all words mentioned there passed through an e-stage. The explanation of the word as given in § 448 contradicts this sup- position, however, and seems to imply that the i is supposed to have remained: "Der Konjunktiv sia erklart sich aus alterem sim durch Anfugung des Konjunktiv -a."

stria (= strJa).

The I is kept here also in Fr. stn^,^ Span, esbna,

via (= v!am).

Via and sia are i)arallel in their development. Fr. voie, soil leave no room for doubt that for this language there was a preceding VEA, seat (later veie, seii > voie, soil). But for the Tuscan no vea is found.

These examples show that in Tuscan no 6-stage is to be supposed for words which have lived on with primary hiatus i.

To this list must be added words that have originally I^tin I, which is retained in both primary and secondary hiatus: zio (*thIum), stio (aestTvum), vie (vIve), rio (poetic form of rivo < rIvum).

Also to be added are »io (botanical), ghio (maritime), trio, dia ('divine,' Par xiv, 11 ; xxiii, 36 ; xxvi, 3), spio and/o. The germanic/e/m gave in Italian ^o and/ewJo, and the e in the example of/eo (cited above, p. 174) was probably introduced from analogy to feudo.

Thus, the answer to our first question (Does hiatus prevent the development of t>e?) must he given in the affirmative ;

by M. Vitale Papazzoni. V^enetia, 1587, p. 5 : *' Dea per dia dal Verbo r/nte, usano alcuni moderni contra '1 commun' uso degli altri, & non so perch^. Nd io per mc lascierei il mio & degli altri solito (//a, salvo se non volessi parer pia tosto Napolitano che Toscano o Lombard© ragionevole."

• fL Gr. J 96. Rule quoted above, p. 172.

• cf. Soheler, Dictionnaire d' Etxpnohgie Frav^iM. 3me Ed. Paris et Brux- elles, 1888. p. 476.

182

L. EMIL MENGER.

the Tascan treats alike i and t in hiatus, since it preserves both of them. ^

3. Does hiatus dose E, thus making it it

This question has been considered by d'Ovidio,* and his oonchision is (p. 37) : " Nessun certo esempio, adunque, ci ocxx)rre di e da f: lat , o di 6 romanza qualunque, che si chiuda in i per I'iato." A difficulty arises here because of the lack of examples of original Latin hiatus e, the rule being, as given bySeelmann:* "Kurzung von vocalen konnte erfolgen, wenn denselben direct andere folgten." There is one case, however, of e in secondary hiatus before e, with the result that it was raised to i; this e (afterward %) was also long, and hence could not have been diphthongized (>t6) and reduced later to t. This example is die (=dee = deve, cf. p. 177). It is treated by d^Ovidio, but the only example of its occurrence which he found was that from "un antico testo /or«6 fiorentino." Caix* mentions "rfi€, dia-^o accanto a dea, forma del conjiuntivo che in Guittone vale anche per I'ludicativo,^' and again (p. 220) "in Barl)erino tanto dea, quanto dia e dieno occorrono pid volte." The examples gathered from our texts show a more extended use of the forms than these quotations would indi- cate. For die there can be but one explanation ; its Latin original was dSbet and hence the tonic e never diphthong- ized ; the immediate predecessor of the present form was dee^ and the hiatus position of e is the only cause which suggests itself for the raising of this e to i. — Similarly in the plural,

' None of the words thus far treated are covered by Meyer-Liibke^s rule (//. Or. ^ 96) since the beginning of the rule— "Im Hiatus steht fiir «"— implies that all words mentioned under it were either originally e or e < T ; in either case, he supposed an f-stage to have preceded any later change. The rule would even seem to imply that the i in *thium developed **o, then ziOf as this example is found among those given under the rubric.

*Arek. Olot. It. ix, 35-37.

' Die Aussprache dea Latein. Heilbronn, 1S85, p. 79.

* Oriyini, p. 219, J 216.

ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 183

apart from the variants of the ending -0710/ as, -ano or -eno^ the change of e> i is due to hiatus position.* The form dV (== dee) as found in N in the construction dVisaare might seem to have developed in pretonic position (in which position every E > i; ^ as, misfdra < MEN8URAM, stGdro < securum), and if die is understood to have thus developed, hiatus would not enter here into consideration. But the tendency for pretonic E to become i was a popular one, and if the e in dee had thus become i, the resultant form that would have been used most frequently and been preserved, would be die, not dee, just as we have mimira, sicuro and many similar words with i, not e. The fact that dee has always been the more common form indicates, therefore, that die is not a development due to pre- tonic position, but that the word developed independently, the first e becoming i because of its hiatus position.

J5ea, stea (< dare, stare) may have developed later into dia, nbki through the closure of e > i in hiatus, but these wordjs cannot be adduced as reliable examples of such a change, since it is probable that they became dta, siiay by analogy to sia ; * reciprocal influences of dare, stare and essere forms con- stantly occur in the Romance languages.

a. Further proof of e > t in hiatus : conditionals in -ria.

We must here consider conditionals in -ria instead of -rei,* the former being < the Infinitive with Imperfect of avere; the latter (-rei) offers nothing for consideration in connection with the present topic (of e being raised to i by hiatus). The suc- cessive stages of development of this -ria formation may be

^ And in F deuno is found.

* />ieno is not to be supposed as analogical to forms like xieno or condi- tionals like tarienOy for in these cases the preceding stage was i^ianoj sariano; the point to be noted in dieno is not the ending -eno but the fact that <> t before this ending, however the latter may have originated. (Cf. GrundrisSy I, 540, {94: iFt eaia von einem konsonanten gefolgt, so ensteht daraus ie also aviUf avienOj etc.")

•Cf. Meyer-Lubke, IL Or. i 123.

♦Cf. Meyer-Lubke, //. Or., i 461. * Ibid., U 403, 404.

184 L. EMIL MENOER.

traced in our t<»xt8. First, in h, we find the Imperfect alone used for the Conditional (p. 203) : " chesso dicca quelli ke fugera delabatallia non fiigera dalicani, kc le sue carne facia alimastini niagiare ; " — (p. 208) : " el medico di Pirro venne a Fabritio celatamente e disseli kc selli livolea dare cotanto avere chelH iccidea Pirro.'* The next step was -rea, which is found represented in the same text (L) in forms such as mecf/X" rea (p. 200), piacderen (p. 202), averea (p. 21 1), slrea (|). 212). The last stage was -ria. This form is found as follows:' All, B77, C44, E29, K2, L9, N42, 012, P69, S24, T15,V74, X7, Y8, Z24, BB7, CC2, DD4, EEl, FFl, GG34, 116, LL8, SS21, TT5. Is this an example of hiatus e {-rea) raised to i {-ria)^ If we accept the testimony of Castelvetro we must answer in the negative. In his work cited (p. 170) p. 190 he is discussing a number of words which, according to Bembo, Petrarch took from the Proven9al, among them lunna^ aolia^ credia; of these he observes : " Niuno nega, che nou sia uso della Provenza il dire Aan'a, soliaj acedia, ma cio non liasta a provar lo 'ntendimeuto del Bemlx). Adunque bisognerebbe che egli potesse negare con vcrita, che fosse o fosse stato uso d'una buona parte d'ltalia mai, & s|)etialmente della patria mia, nella quale non solo si dice havia, aolUi, a'edia, ma anchora IiavivOy Holiva, crediva, donde e non di Provenza Than no prese & il Petrarca& Dante & gli altri poeti Italiani.'' If the Im- perfect was in this form — ia (-iva) — at the time of its junction with the Infinitive to form the Conditional, there would be no further explanation necessary for the -Wd.^ But an observance of imperfects occurring in our texts shows that forms in -ia were exceptional ; if the latter had l)een the })revalent form (instead of -ea) his explanation would have been accepted and numerous subsequent discussions avoided. Nor is it to be sup-

^ The numerals to the right of author mentioned refer, as usual, to the number of times this form occurs in the g^ven author.

*And Castelvetro in his Conditional gives Infinitive with -ibam, etc. Of. Modern Lang^iage NoteSy vii, 243 : " Lebrija and the Romance Future Tense " (A. M. E ).

ITALIAN P088E6SIVE PRONOUNS. 185

posed thai avea, etc., when joined to the Infinitive, became avia, etc., by analogy to Imperfects of the fourth Conjugation (in -m), for the numl)er of verbs in the latter is too small, as compared with those in the other conjugations, to have exer- cised such an influence. D'Ovidio suggests ^ that avcva being a "voce servile" when joined to the Infinitive might have undergone an alteration (> {av)ia) which it did not sufi'er when used alone; in this connection it is to be remarked that the majority of words found under this form of the conditional {-ria) in our texts are words frequently used ; such as, saria, potrUiy avrioy vorriay dov^ria, anderiayfuria, verrkt^ etc., which would support his suggestion ; for, naturally, words most fre- quently used are the first to Ix* affected by phonetic changes, and the change from -rca to -via may have begun with tliese vocables. If we admit that the (change thus took place, the cause of the variation is still a question; and until a better reason is offered the phenomenon may well be attributed to the raising of e to / by hiatus. Why then did nof the e in the syncopated imj)erfects, such as arer/, doveciy faced, vedea, etc., also become i ? The following is offered as a possible explana- tion (which, as far as I know, has not hitherto been suggested) for this anomaly, and also helps to establish the probability of the raising of e to i in the Conditional : in searching for like developments where e > i, our attention is attracted to a cer- tain set of words, now definitely fixed in form, which represent the lost stage of growth preceding the final development. These words had originally e + Vowel, but they now have /+ Vowel, and for this reason their development may be compared with that of the Conditional (-/-m > -rm) : Hone (leonem), niuno (NEC + unum), iiietite (ne(! -)-*entem), and similar. Here the regular products are represented by neiente (B13, El, F14), bekndo (N), beiamo (11), leiale, (R), Tarpeia (P). Such variants [that is, those with an I between e and o (w)] do not occur for Hone, niuno. Does this not show a difference

MrcA. Clot. It., IX, :$r).

186 L. EMIL MENGER.

between the quality of the e {%) before o and u and that of the e before a and e, or that there was an uncertainty in the latter case (evidenced by the writing et) which was not felt in the former? If so, is not the following suggestion as to these words justifiable? Before o and u (leone^ veuno) e passes directly to i, all traces of the intervening consonant (c) in the latter word being lost; before a and e uncertainty prevails as to the pronunciation before the adoption of the i; this un- certainty is represented by the writing of both vowels, ei (neieiite, leialey beiamo). Now where the intervening consonant definitely drops, the e brought l)efore e, a, developes into i {niente, Hale) ; where it soqaetiines disappears (beamo), again does not (bevamo), the consciousness of use of the consonant prevents the develop- ment of f > t in the cases where it is dropped [hence we have beo (bevo)y creo (credo) ^ veo (veggio), etc.]. — Now, if we apply this to the development of the Imperfect (aveijo) and the Con- ditional {avria), the v of the former is never forgotten, and a collei'tion of comparative uses of -eva and -ea terminations in our texts shows the two side by side, no author employing the -ea to the exclusion of the -eva form. It was not to he expected that e in the latter {-eva) should develope i-, the only case in which it might be expected to do so being when the t; drops ; but the V does not drop leaving -ea as the only form, so that even when -ea is used, the consciousness of the -eva is never absent from the mind of the speaker and prevents the develop- ment of -ea > -ta otherwise to be expected, since the sj)eech- consciousness with reference to -ea was exactly the same as that of-eva. It is therefore no argument against this theory (namely, hiatus raises e > i) that avea, dovea, etc., do not develop avia, dovia, etc. But if this v was present to prevent said change {-ea > 'iii) in the Imperfect when used alone, the condition was altered when the same Imperfect, avea, was joined to the In- finitive to form the Conditional. No Tuscan text shows the form dovreiHi. A few dialects may show such forms,* but they

* Of. OrundriiSj i, 644, ^ 103 : " Dinlekte l)ewahren i Sg. noch rein : brenc. bol. portarevey

ITALIAN P068ES8IVE PRONOUNS. 187

were at no time the rule, nor was it natural that they should be, for such a form was cumbersome and liable to reduction. It is not claimed, however, that such Conditionals (in -rid) originated in the Tuscan ; whatever may be their source, the fact still remains that they are found in Tuscan only as -rea and -ria ; whenever they were introduced they were subject to phonetic tendencies already existing in Tuscan, and the pho- netic trend that may explain -rea > -ria is the raising of hiatus e U) i; no traces of the (once) intervening v are preserved ; our consciousness of its presence, if it existed, has been lost. — As a resume we have : Conditionals in -na are examples of the raising of hiatus e (-red) to i (-7-wi) ; the difference between its development (> ia) and that of similar forms with an original intervening v (-era, -e^o, etc*.) being, that in the Conditional the V was dropped early and definitely, in the other cases it has been preserved up to the present time. Even when it was dropped, the consciousness of its presence in the form allied to it (with v) prevented the usual hiatus development of e > i. The fact, therefoi-e, that in our texts words which, for the most part, have preserved their v do sometimes (after the fall of the v) develope e > / is a strong proof of the phonetic tendency just noted ; such words are die (= dee= deve) and imperfects like credioy avia (A), volia (J), paina (Purg. II, 18), solia (S), teniay rompia, paria (T), tenia, sapia (X), prendia, rendia, volia, avia (DD), avia, facia, credia, riprendia (FF), facia, dicia, avia (GKx), etc. ; in these instances, in spite of the corresponding forms aveva, credeva, etc., avea, credea, etc., show the tendency to raise the e> i in hiatus and develope avia, credia, etc.

Our second question (Does hiatus cause e to become i) is, then, answered in the affirmative, except for the cases to be considered in our next question.

4. Does hiatus prevent tlie development of e > /e f

There is no doubt as to this development of £ when found before i: miei, riei, liei, costiei, aiei (es), diei (debeb). The

188 L. EMIL MENGER.

last example {diel) which is < dei (from debes), with an origi- nal long E, seems to indicate that all e's when brought before 1 could be treated as open and diphthongize. In the next following section of this essay the same phenomenon will be met with in respect to hiatus p < C, which diphthongizes before i [nm^nxioij aqi^suoi); it appears, therefore, that for the Italian no exception to hiatus rules need be nmde for these words, but examples show that in this language o and e are treated as o and e when before i} Here, then, the Italian offers a divergence from the general rule for such vowels : " Des voyelles qui ne furent en contact qu' ^ la suite de lois phon^tiques propres an latin vulgaire conservdrent la nuance en rapport avec leur ancienne quantity ; ainsi on eut lus de — iviJS, siAT de sIt, eo <Ie fioo," * — the divergence being that when an i directly follows o or ^ these vowels may become o]X3n, though they were originally long.

a. Does meu8>wii>o.^

Is e before f/, «', o, diphthongized as is the c«se before t? The Tuscan texts show no certain example of such pro- cedure. D'Ovidio (I. c.) supposes diphthongization in these cases, and remarks that io, mio^ dio, etc., are reductions from *i€Oy *mi€o, *diex>j etc. As a confirmation of this supposition he finds several parallel ceases ; namely, pria

< *priea < piera < piefra ; arria < ^arriea < arrietn ; hue

< buoe < BoVEM. The first two examples are not taken from Tuscan texts, and it is to be questioned whether the last one is not analogical. In treating mio, biie^ as reductions of *mief>*buoe, it must be asked why the plural miei, buoi re- tained its full form and was not reducetl to mii, bui; and if these two, mii, but (which do occur), are such reductions, why was the full form also retaine<l for the plural and only the re-

> Cf. p. 197.

' Grammaire (lf» Lantfties Rormtaen, par \V. Mever-l^iibke. I'aris, 1890, i, .246, >f. 276.

ITALIAN POBSEBSIVE PBONOUN8. 189

duoed form for the singular? No explanation for this fact has been offered^ as far as I am aware, and no parallel phenomenon exists in the language. If *mieo,*buoe ever existed, the plurals mieiy buoi would certainly have a tendency to keep them on account of similarity in form, just as mii, dii, rii, etc., are formed according to mio, dioj rio, etc. This crossing of forms is a strong principle in the language and has its weight in a dis- cussion of the present question (of the existence of a *mi€o) ; for example, in the present tense of essere, we find aide built up according to aiei; siemo, according to siete;^ in the nouns, we find the plural uomi formed on uomo, and the singular uomine on uomini} On this principle, then, of crossing or assimilation of singular and plural forms one expects mii formed on mio and such a form is found. On the other hand, one expects* also "^mieo formed on miei. But the fact that no such form (*mieo)^ if it ever existed, remained, although it had this principle of form association (similarity to miei) to preserve it, is strong evidence of the non-existence of *mieo at any period of the Tuscan,

5. Do the texts examined contain sufficient material for

eay>tanation8 of all forms studied vnthout

recourse to constnuUive forms f

If the statement of the non-existence of a given form be xsharacterized as untenable since the texts examined begin only with the middle of the thirteenth century leaving unrepre- sented the products of the language of the several preceding centuries when the language was in its formative state, it may be urged in reply : I believe it is better to accept the expla- nation of a given phenomenon with what proof for it may be found in existing products, than to cast about for uncertain explanations based on uncertain (constructive) forms. Besides, it is claimed in this essay that the language of the texts exam-

» Cf. Meyer-Liibke, /(. Or., i 447. •/6«., i 339.

4

190 L. EMIL MEN6ER.

ined contains sufficient materia] for the explanation of all the forms studied ; if this material agrees with that which proba- bly existed in the postulated language of the three or four centuries preceding these texts, so much the better ; if not, it must be accepted as our norm until more is known regarding the possible developments of said postulated speech. It is a fact that where a number of varying forms of one and the same word has been found, it has been possible, for the most part, to establish a logical connection between these different forms, to discover which was the oldest, which the intermediate growth that preceded the final resultant form now found in the modern language. Thus, for the Conditional we have avea -avrea -avria^ for the explanation of which (avria) there is no need of an intermediate borrowed form ; in the next section I shall show that the texts indicate like conclueiions for the second possessive pronoun, tui -toi -tuoi, where the last form is the outgrowth of the first two ; similarly, in products where only two stages are represented it is reasonable to explain for the most part the second as the outgrowth of the first.

Applying these remarks to the case in hand, we find eo, to; meOy mio ; deo, dio ; reOj rio—meay mia ; mee^ raiej etc., with no probable intermediate stage ^ to indicate that they ever existed as diphthongized forms in the Tuscan. Under our second question it was shown to be probable that hiatus can raise e > i; we find here forms with 6, again with i, and the conclusion naturally follows that these words also are illustrations of the principle of hiatus <? > f ; thus understood, there is no necessity

^ The form miV has been noted as occurring in the Tavola Ritonda in the expression fxr mi^f^j where it was supposed to be equivalent to an old *fniea. It is a curious fact that the same locution occurs several times in Cellini. Now it is not to be supposed that the latter had any idea of an old *mUa when he used mi^j for two hundred and fifty years had elapsed since the writing of the Tavola and the form had disap{)eared in the meantime. But there b a fact that may account for its use by both, without supposing it equivalent to *miea ; that is, both were French imitations. Cellini often uses French expressions; why these authors supposed this miV (^mia) to be the Italian equivalent of the French possessive, however, is not apparent.

ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 191

for supposing an intermediate *mieOf or any similar constructive form. It was stated above that the Tuscan dislikes such a form as *mieo (cf. p. 189). If the pronoun is supposed to have ex- isted under this form, it constitutes an exception to the develop- ment to be expected, for the e in metjm in Vulg. Lat. is long.^ But if mio is taken as from meoy it agrees with the development of dee (debet) > die, described above, and no exception need be made for it, nor for the similar dio, rio, etc.

The answer to the third question (Does hiatus prevent the development of e > ie) is represent^ in resume by the follow- ing statement : When the e is before i it diphthongizes even if from an original e ; but before a, €, o, the treatment is the same as that noted under 3 (p. 182), that is e > i.

■

6. Conchmons.

1. Latin I and t occurring in Tuscan in hiatus position are both retained ; no example where the latter (!) has given e has been found in hiatus : *THiUM>zw); pIum >pio.

2. e and e in Tuscan, before i give the same result, -i€, the e being treated as e in hiatus before this vowel (i) ; both are diphthongized : debes > dei > diei; Mfei > miei.

3. e before the other vowels (a, e, o) is close and hence never diphthongizes, but is raised to i in hiatus : dee > die; meo > mio.

It was my original intention to give here all words in the language in which hiatus e or / occurs, in positions other than those considered above. Such has been done for hiatus o and u (cf. p. 205) ; but the number of these words amounts to nearly four thousand, and lack of space does not permit their being printed here. My plan was to arrange them according to the system followed for hiatus u and o (p. 205) : those with i cor- responding to the latter in u, those with e corresponding to

' Cf. Mejer-Liibke, Chr, d. Langues Rom.y i, J 276 : " le singulier meus se r^le Bur le plariel mei/'

lSr2 L. EMU. MESGESL

the fattier in o. As u + Vowel is the role, so is i -r Vowel in all positioiis, and the proportional relations of the two sets + Vowel : I + Vowel = o + Vowel : u -f VoweL Words < + Vowel are mostly *' mots savants " or borrowed. The list of this set (< + Vowel; is swelled by numbers of terms that belong to special professions ; as, medicine or law, or special scienoA. These terms, of course, never onderwent popular phonetic development. — Opportuoity may offer to publish these lists at some time in the future.

B. Tonic C in hiatus; tuo; tuoi; sua; «tcoi.

1. Previous eatphnaticns.

Several explanations have been offered as to the development of turn, imoi. One is that quoted (p. 1 98) from Meyer-Lubke : ^ *^duoi et suoi ♦ * ♦ ♦ pourraient reposer sur duo6, suoe." Phonetically this would be regular, according to the principle announced by d'Ovidio :' ^* Im Auslaute verstummt s, ent- wickelt aber nach betonten Vokalen ein i: daiy aissai, noi, poi^ But there are two grave objections to tuoi < tuos, svm < SU06. The first is, that to suppose the Italian forms derived from the Latin accusative is contrary to the law of preservation of the Latin accusative plural iu other instances, notably in nouns. Cf. Meyer-Lubke : * " Der Nominativ pluralis der ersten und zweiten lateinischen Deklination ist geblieben : -e kann nur auf

»(?r. d, Lang. Bmn., I, } 276.

•Orundrm, I, 632, J 74. Cf. Mejer-Lubke, IL Or., 1 270.

*lL Or., 2 321. I have taken the liberty here of correcting this section as it reads in Mejer-Lubke's OrammaHk ; it stands there : " -« kann nur auf -ae, -t auf -A zuriickgehen, da -as zu -e, -06 zu -o geworden ware." ^' -t auf -A '' is incorrect since the Nom. Plu. of the second Lat. Decl. in -i is referred to, and the meaning is evident : just as -ae (of the first Decl.) >-f, so -i (of the second Decl.) >'i; ^'da -ah zu -«" evidently does not express the author's meaning, for if -AE > -e and -as > -« this would not show in itself whether the Ace. or Nom. of the Latin was preserved in Italian. But -as >-i regularlv ; cf. Und^ { 106, AMA8>-ec>-i.

ITALIAN POeSBSSIVE PRONOUNS. 193

-AB, -i auf -I zuruckgeheD^ da -as zxi t, -os zu -o geworden ware. In den andem Klassen sind NomiDativ und Accusativ gleichlautend^ kommen also nicht weiter in Betracht'' Tuus, suns were declined according to the second Lat. Decl.^ and here, as with nouns^ we expect the Latin Nominative Plural — rui, sui — to be preserved in Italian, and not the Accusative tuos, suos. — Again, a fact points still more strongly against the derivation of tuoi, ^uot from the Latin Accusative in that the possessive pronoun of the first person (miei) can come only from the Latin Nominative Plural mei; metis was likewise declined according to the second Latin declension, and it would be inconsistent to maintain that mei was preserved in one case, while TU06, suos were kept in the other. — ^We have another objection in that the derivation of tuoiy mioi from Tuoe, suos would make triphthongs of the Italian forms, the t < s count- ing as a syllable (cf. oMaiy piul- plus). Rhymes gathered from any Italian poet would prove this to be impossible, since tuoiy suoi always count as two syllables, and, if they were triphthongs, they could not be made to rhyme with noi, voi, etc., which rhymes are of frequent occurrence. For example, in Cino da Pistoja, in the strophe preceding that quoted (p. 197) are the lines:

"In quelle parti, che fnron gia suoi, Qaando trova il Signor parlar di voi.**

P. D. Bartoli observes with reference to vuo^=viu)i:^ "Questo viu/ per vuoi cui non v^^ chi contradica come mal accorciato, mi ricorda I'insegnarsi da alcuni viwi, suoi, tuoiy miet, esser Trittonghi ; il che se fosse, come potrebbono accorciarsi piu de' Dittonghi, de' quali confessano non potersi? E pur tutto di scriviamo, e bene, tu vuo\ i 8uo\ a! mie?. Oltre di ci5, se fosser trittonghi, non potrebbon farsi due sillabe come pur gli ha tante volte il Petrarca in rima con noi, voiy poi: e miei con fei, ddy vorrei. — ^Ben puo il verso restrignere le lor due sillabe

^ DeW Oriografia lUUiana. Boma, 1670, p. 101.

194 L. EMIL MENGER.

in una^ ma senza pregiudicio del poterle usare ancora per quelle due sillabe che pur sono : e se due sillabe adunque non un trittongo."

A second explanation of tuoi^ suoi is that given by Diez : ^ *^ Der diphthongierte plural miei weokte den Diphthong auch in iuoi, auoi, der eigentlich nicht regelreeht ist." Just above this he observes : " Die nach mio geformten iio und ftio finden sich." — If the singular, formed on mio, is tio, sio, would not the plural formed on miei be similarly tiei, aieif

We have a third explanation by Korting : ^ "Abnorm sind die Pluralbildungen tvm, suoi; vermuthlich sind sie aus Sg. tuOy tmOy durch Anfiigung eines i nach Analogic der substan- tivischen Plurale aiif -i enstanden/' — An analogy such as is here noted is impossible, since the plural of masculine sub- stantives in -0 is formed by replacing the -o by an -i. One does not decline amico — *amicoi, but amico — amici. On the same principle a plural formed on the singular tiu), »uo, would be tui, sui; the latter forms do occur and are possibly con- structed in this way. Furthermore, if such an explanation as this were accepted, we should have to explain also why mio did not give *mfof just as iuo > tuoi.

An explanation of tuoiy suoi which is based on a study of the history of hiatus u will now be attempted.

2. Uses in texts consulted.

We find in Latin Tfji, sui ; in Italian tui, sui; toi, soi; tuoi, suoi. The first two (tui, sui; toi, soi) are used only sporadi- cally, the last {tuoi, suoi) prevail as the regular developments from the Latin. If we consider the three different forms, what were the successive stages of development that culminated in turn, suoi ?

In our texts we observe the following uses : ^

1 Oram, ii*, 90. * Encyc iii, 662.

^twi\ Buo*; tuotj suoe are given above (p. 156).

ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 196

•

tmi, suoi: A, B, C, D, F, H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P, R, S, T, U, V, X, Y, Z, AA, BB, CC, DD, EE, FF, GG, II, LL, 88, TT.

tue, sue: B, C, F, G. H, I, J, K, M, N, O, P, T, V, X, Y, Z, AA, BB, CC, DD, EE, FF, GG, II, LL, SS, TT.

duoi: L, N, T, V, EE, GG, LL, OO.

due : B, F, G, H, I, J, K, M, N, O, T, V, X, BB, EE, GG, LL, SS.

9oi: G, I, J, L, O, P, T, V, X, GG, NN.

toi: P, T,V, X, LL, MM.

dot: L, N, T, X, EE, LL, SS.

mi: C, K, N, O, P, V, X, FF, KK, NN, SS.

tui: P,V, FF, GG.

dui: I, N, T,V, X, Y, BB, KK, LL, SS.

muai (= mOves) ; P.

puai (= pUfFEs) : F, I, J, K, O, P, S, V,W, X, Z, CC, EE, FF, GG, LL, SS.

puoi (=p66T): G, J, K, P, T, V.

vuoi (= v6les) : P, S, T, V, W, X, Z, BB, EE, FF, LL, SS.

buoi (= BOVES) : H, P, V, X, GG.

nuoi (= NOS) : P, V.

moi (= vos) : P, EE, GG.

moi (:^ m6ve8) : P.

pot •(= PftTES) : P, T, V, X, II.

voi (= v6les) : P, I, V, X, EE, GG, II, LL. boi (= b6ves) : P, T, X, nui (= NOs) : C, P, V, GG, LL, NN, SS. mi (= vos) : C, O, P, T, X, LL, NN, SS. fyui (= b5vE8) : X, BB, KK.

ioa, soa: P, T, X. toe: V.

goe: T,V, X, GG. doe: L, T.

196 L. EMIL MENGER.

3. Devdopment of toi, soi.

The latter part of Meyer-Liibke's rule quoted (p. 172) is of DO assistance here : '^ Ebenso haben wir nur u und uo bei den velaren Vokalen : /ui, cuiy gnie, due, tuo, tua, tuoi, buCj dltruV^ — Caix observes : ^ "0 (tonico) diviene o come nelP uso gen- erale romanzo : croce, ffiovane, 8opra. Ma grande divergenza i nei riflessi dei bisillabi suus, Tuus, duo, fui. Da una parte la tendenza al suono chiuso del tuo, due, — in corrispondenza con mio, dio ; dalP altra la preferanza pel suono aperto d& to (toa), «o {boo), doe, foi, — in corrispondenza con meoy deo, eo. Dove cio^ prevale la formula e^ si preferisce o^, e dove prevale i* si preferisce w^. Anche qui fi da avvertire che le due formule erano largamente diffuse, ma che la formula con o pare essere stata la piil generate. — Ma nel siciliano, e nella gran maggio- ranza dei mss. toscani la formula con u d la sola in uso. Tantochd si dice, per la stessa tendenza non solo suo, tuo, ecc., ma anche bue (= bOve)."

We thus have in toi, soi " la preferanza pel suono aperto/* This phenomenon is encountered in Provenpal,* where we know it is directly from Tui, sui, for the oblique forms, teua, seas (<TU08, suoe) also exist.

As to how this toi, soi developed from TUi, sui, a compari- son with the corresponding forms in French may give us some light. Neumann remarks with reference to o : * " Im Latein- ischen existirt neben einander Novus und d£nuo (aus d6n6vo) ersteres die betonte, — nuo in letzerem die in unbetontem Zu- stande entwickelte Form desselben Wortes. Auch fur das Pron. poss. (tutjm und suum) wird es im Lat. zwei verschiedene For- men, je nachdem es betont oder unbetont war, gegeben haben. Nach dem Klass. Lat. Muster nOvus — d^nCo werden die- selben gewesen sein *t6vum, *86vum, tuum, suum."* — This

^Origini, J 56. • Qmndrm, i, 626, J 65.

* LUeraturblalt, 1882, col. 468.

* Cf. Schwan, Orammatik des AUfranzosisehen, 2te Aafl. Leipzig, 1893. 21,2; 33, 2 and 409, 3.

ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 197

observation is made in explanation of the Old French tuen, mieUy where the 0 before u (by fall of the t?) > p and diph- thongizes. Might not Itah'an toiy 8oi have similarly derived from *Tfivi, *86vi ? A seeming corroboration of this suppo- sition is the fact that in T bovi and boi exist side by side.

Whether it was through the medium of a *t(m, *80vi or not^ the development of tt > o in hiatus as well as before conso- nants is not difficult of comprehension^ for the use of the two (u and o) by the early poets shows that there must have been a marked resemblance in the phonetic value of these vowels. On this point is the testimony of Celso Cittadini who observes in regard to tJ > o : ^ " Non essendo veramente u altro che un 0, o si pur simigliantissimo ad esso, la onde appo i nostri antichi rimatori era &tto rimar con o, facendo, per caso^ risponder lui a vol, lume a nome; e simili altri come in particolar I^giamo appo Dante Alighieri nel sonetto che incomincia 'L'anima

mia:'

"Dioendo : io voglio Amor cid che ta truot, E piange entro quell'hor, pregando luV '

E cosi nel sonetto ^Piet^ e raerc^^ fa rimar: colui: voi: pou E Guido Cavalcanti nella sua nobil Canzone d'Amore: come: nome: coatumej' — Similar rhymes may be found in GG, fo. h lui : fai : sv^L

4. 0 before i > p and diphthongizes.

Were tuoi, siioi developed directly from toi, soi f The ex- amples^ as given above, go to show this to be the case. Such a statement, of course, seems directly contrary to acknowledged hiatus laws, because in toi, sqi the o is close and as such could not diphthongize, and Meyer-Liibke* r^ards this vowel de- velopment as an exception, since after giving the law [ft + i >

^ Origini delta volgar Toteana favella Siena, 1604, p. 16. 'I had noted the same example in C, where it is placed among the rhymea of Cino da Pistoja.

• Or, d. Lang, Horn, I, 2 276.

198 L. EMIL MENGER.

f, + A>6; 6 + U>p, + A, i>o (u)] he observes : " Mais ces lois ont 6t^ trouble dej^ dans le Ijatm vulgaire : le singu- lier Mf:ns se r^gle siir le pluriel mei, et le plurid soi »ur le wngvlier spus." From this remark one might suppose that the writer holds 8Uoi to be < «ot, but he evidently does not consider the form thus developed, since (1. c. § 279) he remarks : '^Nous avons pour 17 du latin vulgaire. DU as, suas, ital. duey ma; duoi et mtjoi sont douteux puisqu'ils pourraient reposer sur DUO8, suos/* But this exception for tqiy soi does not cover all the words which we have noted with uo before i, notably mioiy vuoi (= noiy vox = n68, vOs) ; and the fact seems to be that when o occurs before L whether after the fall of a v (*TOVi, *sovi) or not (woi, vot), it becomes open and diph- thongizes.^ A safer statement than this one would l)e: nttot and mu)i are exceptional forms, and, after accepting the expla- nation of the {) in 8pi as given above, we have all words in this cat^orj' with an o, — soiy toi (analogically) ; poi (p6t£s), poi (post), voi (vOles), boi (bdves) have original 0/ nothing, there- fore, hinders here the diphthongization. Perhaps the writers who used nuoi, vuoi, employed them along with noiy voi, just as they did toiy tuoi; «oi, suoi. While such explanations of the irregularity (-9 > -uo) may be safer, yet it is claimed in this monograph that there is sufficient evidence to make it very probable that o and e before / diphthongize regularly.

5. Influence of v elcineyvt.

What part did v play in the development of the words in- dicated ; and where o + v + 1 occurred, did the o diphthongize before or after the fall of the v? On this point evidence seems to be contradictor}\ D'Ovidio observes : ' ^* Auch im Hiat blieb der betonte Vokal nicht un veriiudert. Die Vergleichung mit anderen romanischen Sprachen und ital. Dialekten lehrt,

*Cf. above p. 188, where the example of diei (z=dei= debes) seems to indicate that e also (before i) becomes open and diphthongizes. •OrttrMfriM,*!, 525, ? 52.

ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 199

das mioy bue einst *mieo, *buoe lauteten. Jene schon vulgar- lateinischeD '''mieo^ '^'buoe erlitten nun die verschiedensten Schicksale; bald wurden beide vereinfacht^ wie im Toskan- ischen, jedoch nur im Singular/'

Did not the -vo develop from bove >*buove >*buoe > buef To suppose that the v fell and the o > u on account of hiatus would be contrary to what we find in Old French buef, Spanish bueyy Provenpal buoua. Similarly in the plural^ Was not the development bOves > bovi > buovi > bvm f Such a form, buoviy is recorded.^ If the v fell before this development of -o (> -ito), the latter (according to hiatus law quoted above, p. 198) would become p, and we would not expect it to diph- thongize. But on the supposition that the diphthongization of not, voi > nuoij vuoi is original (not analogical to tiuyiy auoi), there is no reason why boi should not have a similar development.

If now a v- stage may be supposed for all the words under consideration the toi, sot, boi can be treated as further reduc- tions : thus *t6vi > *TUOVi > tuoi > toi (and «oi, boi in like manner). But this supposition is untenable ; the word puoi < poi < pOst shows the contrary to be the case ; there is no pos- sibility that any phonetic element was ever introduced between the 0 and i here ; the o = original o. Of the two forms poi and puoi there is no question as to the poi being the original one and this seems to point to a similar development of tuoi, suoi < toiy Boi (not < *TUOVi, *8U0Vi).* The conclusion, then, as to

V is : There is evidence of the development of 6 > wo before

V and that the v afterward fell {buovi > buoi) ; but, taking this word, the form boi cannot be supposed as a further reduction from buoi because a comparison with puoi < poi < post, where poi is the immediate background of puoiy shows that boi also probably preceded buoi. Again : buovi occurs * and cannot be

^Zeitaehriftfur Rom. Phil., IX, 542.

•In FF, p. 125, is found suoli (86les) ; in BB, pp. 34 and 60, occurs toi (TdLLEs) — these forms are mentioned for comparison.

' Cf. in P voli (v6le8) Inf. xxix, 34 ; suoli (soles) Inf. iv, 6 ; duoli (d6les) Inf. XXI, 44.

200 L. EMIL MENGER.

disregarded ; we must, then, if we maintain the priority of 6m and acknowledging frteovi, admit a parallel development of two forms from the Latin, both resulting in the same product (btwi)

in Italian. Thus bOves > fepin > /^ V > buoi.

6. o before a, e, o^ u.

How does the development of the singular bue compare with that of the plural just described? Is the process here: bovem

> bove < _ /• > „ V z > buef Another question arises

boe ) {boe) )

here : Does o before e diphthongize (6o€> *biLoe) after the fall of

the V (both forms *buoe<^*buove and *buoe<Cboe being reduced

afterward to bue), or is the o raised to u by hiatus before e f

This is difficult to answer from the fact that examples of buove

and boe have not been found. ^ But there is no reason why 6{we

should not have given *buove ^"^buoe^ bue^ so that we have to

consider only bue < boe. From a comparison with words of

similar development we observe the following : 6oa, canoay eroe

have kept o ; 6iui, pru^ have developed o > w. Boa is a

zo5logical term ; canoa is spoken of by Scheler * as follows :

^^ Les mots esp. et it. canoa, angl. canoe sont tir& de candoa

de la langue des Caraibes ; *' eroe is < heroem ; bvu is < bOo

— ARE;^ prua is <*prOdXm.* The appropriate form here is

btia < bO-, and it furnishes a parallel for the raising of o > w

in hiatus. For boe '^^buoe there is no parallel. Examples of

tuoe, Buoe have been given above,* but they are easily explained

as analogous to the masculine Uwi, suoi; that is, a full feminine

form tuoe, suoe was constructed to correspond to the masculine

^bue occurs in T, X, GG, II, liL; bove in T, X; 6o in LL (p. 184: che come il 6o la notte Toi facciate).

'Diet. (PEL Fr,, p. 86 : canot,

*K6Hiagf LaUiniseh-romanitehesWdrterbueh, Paderborn, 1891. col. 127, no. 1288.

^And is Genoese. Meyer-Liibke, It. Gr., p. 42, J 69.

* Cf. p. 156.

ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PBONOUKS. 201

tuoiy 8U0U For the singular^ therefore, as for the plural, bv£

may be the result of two forms, *lmoe or boe ; bove > > >

ooe )

{boe) / > ^•

The final application of this example to the development of tuoi, suoi is as follows : First, it shows the varj'ing treat- ment of 0 according as it occurs before i or e, giving -uo {bvm) in the first ease, being raised to u (btie) in the second ; secondly, it shows that toi, soi must have preceded iuoiy auoiy just as 6ot, poi preceded bvm, puoi; the form jmoi <^poi < p6st where no product like "^puovi is possible, shows that the development of tuoi < toi and of moi < soi may be independent of *t6vi, ♦sSvi ; the non-occurrence of tuoviy suom indicates the same thing. The development of wof, voi > nuoi^ vuoi from a close vowel (o) evidences a strong tendency to diphthongization when p occurred before i, so that the preferable development of tuoi^ suoi would seem to be : Tti ^tqi'^ tuoi ; sti > aqi > »uoi. The forms toi, soi as existing to-day m dialects of North Italy have morphologically a close o, whether they come directly from TUI, sCi, or from *t6vi, *86vi,^ so that for their further development into -wo in Tuscan it may be necessary to accept the exception noted above (p. 198) " le pluriel soi se r^le sur le singulier sous/*

a. tuiy but, nui, etc.

All of this points very clearly toward tOi > toi > tuoi, and this development destroys the likelihood that toi is a reduction oituoi, a suggestion by d'Ovidio : ' ** ii toi, soi in quanto si trovi in testi italiani, di qualunque regione, h proprio certo che metta capo a TUI, o non piuttosto a tuoi tuos ? " The forms poi —

^In N (p. 2) occurs Id, due (^Id dove). Here the prooese was probably dove > doe > due,

' For in the latter case, after the fall of the v, the 6 > p. Cf. Hiatus law, p. 198.

^Arehiv, OhL Iud,y iz, 44, note 1.

202 L. EMIL MENGER.

puoi cited above show which was the original ; also according to the development ^ of *buoe > hue, a reduced form of tuoi would be tuL This leads to the question as to what these forms, tui, sui, duty nui, vui, bui, are. The (quotation cited from Zehle (p. 169) was to the effect that tui, »ui are Latinisms in Dante ; again a suggestion has been made that they are plurals formed on the singular tuo, tstio by changing -o > -i, the usual manner of forming plurals of substantives in -o (p. 194). D^Ovidio remarks : ^ " In tui, ttui, ace. a ttu)i, suoi = Tuds, 8u6s, non so se s'abbiano a vedere degli assottigliamenti fonetici, o delle continuazioni populari delle forme nominativali latine, o meri latinismi, o mere formazioni fatte sul sing, tuo, ecc,, com' 6 mil." The six words just mentioned {tui, sui, nui, bui, tmi, dui) have been treated under other forms (as tor, tuoi, voi, vuoi, etc.) as parallels in development ; this would indicate that in their treatment under this form (-ui) all should in like manner be classed together, and if they are thus considered, no one of the explanations suggested up to the present time will account for all these forms, but only for tui, sui, dui, N^ii, vui, bui cannot be latinisms, they cannot be plurals formed on a singular ''^nuo, *vuo, *buo; it is hardly probable that by a phonetic reduction from tuoi, etc., the unaccented vowel u should have been preserved, nor would this explain 7iui, vui, since nuoi, vuoi are rare forms. Granted the explanation as notetl below for such products, they all fall under a like treat- ment and also agree with the development of their fuller forms, tuoi, etc. According to the law for hiatus (cf. p. 198), 6 + 1 > 0 or u; in looking upon the u in tui, bui, etc., as a variation of p [tui > toi {tui)^, we have a logical explanation for the whole set. What renders this still more probable is the fact, that words with an original p — poi (pOst), ppi, (potes), vpi (voles) — '<\o not occnir under the forms pui, vui. (Excepting an isolated example of piue in FF, p. 98 ; and pui occurs in C a few times for the sake of rhyme).

* Which was suggested bj d*Ovidio, cf. p. 199. ' Arch, OloU It., IX, 40, note 2.

ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS. 203

As a result of the preceding discussion it appears that the three forms — tui, toi, tuoi — are to be explained as follows : tui is not a latinism, nor a reduction < tiLoi, nor formed on the singular tiLO, but a variant of toi; — toi is not a reduction of ixioi, but from Tt^i directly or through the medium of *t6vi, in either case with an p ; — tuoi is not < TUOS, but < ioi, tOi. The differentiation of the Italian from the other Romance Languages consists in the development of this o > tto before f, for by the side of words for which analogy can be found (soi : sous) exist noi, voi > mwi, vuoi with no such supposable anal- ogy. All the forms : toi, sen, doi, boi were originally with o, for the u in the variant tui, etc., could not be from an o. Either nrwi, vuoi must be analogous to tuoi, suoi^ or words like ^91, voi, p5st, v6le8 with an original 9 must have influenced other words in -pi because of the similarity in form ofpoi, voi, etc., with the words in -pt {tgi, soi, etc.), so that all were diphthong- ized alike ; this seems the preferable explanation, if it is not considered that 0 may become p before i and then diphthongize.

6. tuo, 8U0; tue, sue, etc.

The feminine forms toe, soe, doe, etc., have a development parallel, up to a certain point, with that of the masculines ; that is, they may be taken as directly from tCtae, or from *t6vae.* Out of toe, etc., develops tue,^ etc., just as bv£ is < boe. — Similarly in the singular too, toa; soo, soa first developed <*t6vum, *t6vam ; *s6vuM, *86vam ;^ then the 0 in too, toa; 800, soa was raised to u by hiatus before 0 and a and the forms became tuo, tua; suo, sua. Or too, toa; soo, soa came directly from tOum, tuam ; struM, suam, which is more probable, it having been shown (p. 201) that a v-stage is unnecessary.

*For AE>e, cf. Meyer-Liibke, /(. Or. ? 106: "ae [atonic] wird e: le aus ILLAE, etc."

' Or one might easily see here a feminine plural formed on the singular tua. * Cf. Orestomazia, p. 126, line 234, where one Ms. reads sovofilio, another suo.

204 L. EMIL MENOER.

C. Tonic u in hiatus.

Having thus disposed of hiatus t, it is not difficult to formu- late a law for the words in which u occurs, for these (as well as those with t) are few ; their occurrence in the list of texts examined proves that, for the Tuscan, u in hiatus remains u : cui, Jui, luiy costuiy grua} These words never give in Tuscan eoi^foij loiy costoi, groa; such forms are avoided, for instance in C (p. 28) occur the rhymes alirui: lui: vui: pui; p. 74, vui: alirui: 8ui: fui; p. 116, colui: vui: lui: sui ; p. 119, pui : lui, where original voi, poi, soi are changed to vui, pui, sui in order to rhyme with fui, lui, instead of changing the latter to "^foi, *loi to rhyme with voi, poi, soi, which indicates a strong tendency to preserve the u.

Cbnclu^sions,

From all the discussion given above the following points may be postulated :

1. All words with tonic o + i diphthongize («oi>«uof); noi > nuoi, etc.) ; other forms {lui, fui, cui, etc.) do not diph- thongize ; therefore, before diphthongization takes place, an o- stage is to be supposed. This o- stage {toi, soi, etc.) appears in Tuscan ; it is a logical explanation, therefore, to derive tvm, Sfuoi, etc., from it.

2. There must be reason why other words {lui, fui, etc.) do not pass through this o- stage; this cause is attributed to the

^ Perhaps also frui frGctus should be mentioned here ; it occurs in P, Par. XIX, 1, rhyming with cut: luu — One exception to the rule just given is found ; in FF occurs Juoi: p. 118 : non so si ffioi portato o s'io sognai; p. 127: io fuoi falconier del re; p. 127: di Capouana fuoi; p. 129: i' fuoi Sanese ; p. 130: i' fuoi quel Baldassare ; p. 131 : i' fuoi bon soldata, etc., pp. 133, 135, 136, 138, 145, 161. But foi does not occur here or elsewhere, and fuoi must be considered as analogical to vuoi (voles), puoi (potes), which are of frequent occurrence in this author.

'Does this not prove, so far as Italian can show, that u in cui is long? cf. Korting, FF^. no. 6570.

ITALIAN POeSESSIVE PRONOUNS.

205

varying quantity of the original Latin vowel, it being long in luiy fuiy etc. Hence, in Tuscan, Latin t in hiatus remains unchanged.

3. Latin H for hiatus position develops in Tuscan into p, just as it does in other positions : tHau > tpa; Ttti > tgi, etc. Both this p < u and original p (noi nOs) before i may diph- thongize, since, in Tuscan, e and p are treated as f and o before this vowel (i). If such a development (p > i«)) is looked upon as doubtful, toi, 8oi, etc., may be considered to have developed by analogy to poi < pOst, voi > volbb, etc., words exactly similar in form and with original p; the analogy having worked, all alike give -uo: puoi, viioi, tuoi, aiioi.

Before a {tua), e (Jtie, b\ie < 6oe), o {tuo), o is raised to u.

The following lists show the relative proportion in the use of hiatus u or 0 in words not treated in the preceding pages. a indicates any vowel. The dash ( — ) is used to indicate syl- lables that follow or precede the accent.

tl/t —	babbuino	contribuire
abitiudt	baluardo	conventuaU
abitiuire	belzuino	ctticcuino
accentuale	bezzuarro	defiuirt
accerUuare	bruire	deostruire
adduare	bu€teeio	deslituire
affettuare	buesaa	deslruenU
affettuoso	buino	diluire
affiiuaU	easucUe	diminuire
affluema	eenttuaU	distribuire
affluire	eewmato	duale
CLggraduirsi	eircomfltienza	ditdlo
<dituo80	circuire	duino
amminuire	eonjluente	eceetuart
cmnuaU	conflueTiza	effetuale
annuire	eongruente	effeiuare
aUenuare	congruenxa	eaienttare
aUwiU	const ituire	evaeuare
attuare 6	eonsti-uire	eveniuale

206

li. EHIL UENOEB.

fiuire	prwentuale	oA
ftuttuare	pruina
Jruire	puntuale	benzoato
fnUtuart	gwUtriduano	bemoino
fnUtuoto	qweiuare	bocaro
ffmuino	reeiduare	boato
geauUa	reeiduale	doana
graduare	reetUuire	eroessa
graduirt	retrilmire	eroina
graduaU	rituaU	eroimno
gratuire	rtUna	gioire
gruale	rtUre	ineoata
gruino	aeniuale	moine
imbuire	einvMO	oboUta
impetuoto	sUuare	piroetta
imporluoso	sentuoao	poema
ineesttMre	eostUuire	poeta
ince8tuo80	ftpirituale	proavo
ineruerUo	etaiuare	roano
individuale	sttUwde	soaUo
individuare	siatuino	Btrettoino
induare	8iatuet(a
infatuare	sUUuieta	ua-
ir^uenza	statuire
it^uire	Btenuare	abituatexza
ifuinuare	atrettuale	aeeuorare
itutUuire	strUmire	annxudmenU
tfutruire	euino	arduamerUe
irUeUettuaU	euirnno	tusidtuimenU
ifUuire	ioMuino	cUtualmente
iniuarsi	tatuaggio	buacciolo
irruema	tatuarei	eaeucUmenU
ItUtuoso	teetuale	eongriuimente
manuale	tortuoso	diminuimento
meiutmale	triduano	distribuitare
menauale	tumtdtuare	druideam
mintiale	tumvUtuoao	ducUiemo
mhiuire	urUwuo	dueUare
montuoao	vaeuare	eccettuativo
muhtanU	vaeuetto	effettualmenie
oHruire	virtuale	esleniiatiro
perpetuate	virtuoeo	fiuitare
perpetuare	vinuile	genuUajo
perpetuariMa	tH}lutW>80	gesuitare
proatUuire		gesuUessa

ITAUAN POeSEBSrVE PBONOTTNB.

207

gradiialmenU	ineraieare	qumtuazione
iUmare	introiiare	nttuudone
individtuUitmo	ioideo	BorUuoiomenU
indimdualmente	maaUndeo	tpvritucdtzuare
in/huiore	metaUoidaU	atenyazione
inUUethudmenU	morraidale	loriuoaameaU
itUwUim	ortoepia	tymuUuoaaimente
manmalmeiUe	poemetto	vaeuazione
mdifiuamenU	poena	voltUiuoaamente
mutuamenU	poeiare
perpeiwdmenU	poeiirt	oa '-
pituiUuo	poetino
predpuamenU	romboidaJe	aleoolizzare
pruino90	Bodamqjare	ei-oicamenU
purUwdmenU	aojare	eroicizzcare
reatituimenio	stoicismo	moineria
rettr^uimento	tifoideo	moiniere
ritualismo		poetizzare
ritualiski	ua ' —	proemiaU
ritualmenU		proemiare
ruinare	affettuosamenfe	proemizzare
wnmalimno	cUtenuazione	aloieamcnU
sensualiata	attualitate
aengualmerUe	(Utuazione	vd
toitituUore	eircuizione
spirilualitmo	duellatnre	affftuevole
spirUucUiitta	ecceUuazione	offiiuario
gpiritualmmU	effeltuazione	annuario
gUUtudmenU	effeHuoaamente	atiuario
ttenualiw	eatenuaxione	bnaggine
	fiuttuazione	censuario
tupfrfivuim/enU	forluilamente	diminuibile
tenuemenU	fniizione	druidxco
virtualmenU	graduatamenU	elettuario
	graduazione	geatiitico
oa^	impetuosamente	inainucJnU
	ineesluommente	peeuaria
hoariTia	iruiividuaziane	reaiduario
eoUaso	insinuazione	aarUuaria
eonooidale	irUuizione	ataiuaria
etmoidait	luttuosamente	tumtUtuario
eonvoitoso	menstrtuunone	uaufruUuario
emorraidcde	mostruosamerUe	uatuirio
epiaoozia	muliumone	voluUuario
incoaiiw	puntuazione

208

L. EHIL HENGEB.

oA	androide	tckifanoja
*^^^	aracnoide	ifchmatojo
aloetico	(uteroide	teoceatqjo
doario	astroite	ecolatojo
noetico	bemoico	aeorcitqjo
poetico	eiiisoide	seorifioatojo
proavolo	coito	scoraqjo
proemio	eonietoide	seoriicatojo
Medoaria	eoneoide	scolitajo
	conoide	acriUcjo
^.^ t	coliloide	seceatojo
ua-^	emorroidi	segnatojo
duellarU)	eroieo	aerbatojo
graduatorio	eroide	sfetraiaja
mtUucUario	introito	Hoja
pUuilario	ioide	Miiatqjo
wuwUorio	jaloide	spanditqjo
	lombrieoide	sfpiizzatojo
	meUxlloide	epegnitojo
vvv	morroidi	gpiancUqjo
emorroidario	oaai	spicciatcjo
	odontoidt	spogliatqjo
Aa^tf '	roinboide	sloja
	eesamoide	squarUitcjo
ffesuUieamenU	sferoide	stemUUyo
gtsuitofobia	sioico	Hlreltqja
vUuUivamente	trapeMoide	itromUojo
9antuariamaUe	zoUo	8vegtiaU)jo
Bpirilwdizzainenio		»V€nato}o
tumuUnariamente	addirizzaiqjo	wemntojo
	btveratojo	tagliatojo
ua	pasiqja	teniperatojo
^ArSM	penmlojo	tcnitojo
affiuert	rUerbatqjo	tetttija
cereuUo	ritenitqjo	tiraiojo
druido	acUamoja	toecatojo
fortuUo	ealdalqjo	turciUtjo
ffratuilo	aalilqjo	tnipanatojo
irUuUo	scaldeUojo	trebbicUqjo
pituUa	sealzatqjo	uctUatoio
mere	eeannalnjo	wiratojo
Sa	eeappaioja	vasMJu
wt	ecarieatojo	volgilojo
oUarUoide	eouUalojo	voitojo

ITALIAN POSSESSIVE PBONOUNS.

209

ua

annuo

arduo

amduo

wngruo

eospieuo

fatuo

individuo

ingenuo

liiuo

mdiifluo

menxbruo

ntdtua

perpduo

penpieuo

preeipuo

profieuo

promiacito

queslua

reaiduo

tperpetua

tiatua

ttrenuo

superfluo

tenue

lonitmo

treguo

triduo

vacuo

okool

aloe

proUmoe

-^oa

ua

arduild

asaiduiid

eongruitd

eogpieuitd

fatuUd

graiuiid

ingenuUd

perpetuitd

penpicuUd

strenuUd

tenuUd

vacuitd

veduUd

eamuditd dualitd eventuaUtil fruUuoaiid

impetuogUd

imporfuoBUd

individualitd

intdleUualitd

manualitd

montuosiid

mostruosiid

perpetuaUid

promiaeuonid

puntuaJlitd

seruualitd

sinuowUd

8orUuo9ild

gpiritualiid

tortuosUd

urUuosiid

venluontd

virtualitd

voltUiuosUd

ua — inginuabilUd

— oi

eooe oboe sUoe,

Louis Emil Menger.

IV.— THE ORDEK OF WORDS IN ANGLO-SAXON

PROSE.

I. Introduction.

(a) Few subjects connected with Anglo-Saxon prose have been so persistently slighted as that of the position of words and clauses. The grammars either omit it entirely or touch upon it only in the most vague and general terms. No mono- graphs treating the whole subject in .all its periods and aspects have yet appeared, Kube's dissertation * being the only attempt, so far as I know, to investigate the word-order of even a single monument of Anglo-Saxon literature. But this work, though valuable, is awkwardly arranged, and devotes too little pro- portionate space to the subject of dependent clauses, the element of Anglo-Saxon word-order which offers the greatest contrast to modern English and which is therefore the most interesting as well as the most important. Kube's results are further vitiated by his having selected a monument written at long intervals apart and therefore incapable, if treated as a single synchronous work, of exhibiting any successive changes in word-order, or the word-order of any fixed date.

A more suggestive study than Kube's is that of Ries.^ The latter not only treats the relative positions of subject and predi- cate as exemplified in Old Saxon, but mingles much else that is of value to the student of word-order in general.

For the general student, however, the most suitable book is that of Weil.' This work, whether one agrees with all the conclusions or not, is rightly called in the words of the trans- lator, '* a lucid and systematic introduction to the study of the whole question."

^Die WorUtdlung in der Sachaenehronik^ (Parker MS.), Jena, 1886.

' *' Die Stellung yon Subject and Prtidicatsyerbum im Holland," Quellen und Foraekwigenf xu.

' The Order of Words in the Ancient Langvages compared with the Modem (translated from the French by Super, 1887).

210

ORDER OP WORDS IN ANGLO-SAXON. 211

The extensive bibliography which Schultze ^ is able to give of previous investigations into the word-order of Old French shows that, in this language at least, scholars have not been slow to appreciate the importance of word-order in its general relations to syntax. Special prominence is also given to this subject in the last edition of Allen and Greenough's Latin Grammar (1891), Part ii. Chapter vi. The first chapter of OoBsar is translated and an attempt made to illustrate the various shades of thought indicated by the position of words in the original. "This subject has only just begun to receive the consideration it deserves.^' (Preface.)

The aspect of Anglo-Saxon word-order most urgently call- ing for treatment is the rhetorical aspect. There are three norms in the word-order of every language : ' (1) The syntactic, or grammatical, used as a " means of indicating grammatical relations ; " (2) The rhetorical, used as a means of indicating the " relative weight and importance intended by the author ; " (3) The euphonic. The last concerns poetry and may here be omitted, but Anglo-Saxon, a highly inflected language, could better employ position for rhetorical purposes than modern English; but what were the emphatic places in an Anglo- Saxon sentence ? Were they the first (pathetische Stellung) and the last (signifikante Stellung)? Goodell admits the former for Greek but denies the latter. He declares that the tendency to emphasize by finalizing " prevails in French," is less potent in German, and that " possibly the tendency in English is due partly to the influence of French."

I shall not enter upon these rhetorical questions,' but I wish to emphasize the fact that till statistical results have been sifted rhetorically they can not have their full value, for there is a rhetorical as well as a syntactic norm.

^ " Die Wortstellung im altfranzosischen direkten Fragesatze/' Heiri^B Arehiv, Lxxi ; cf., also, Tburneysen's " Stellung des Verbums im Altfran- zofiischen/' ZeUaehriftfur romaniaehe PhMoffief xvi.

'See Goodell's ''Order of Words in Greek/' IVana. Am, Phil, AssocioHony XXI, 1890.

' Cf., however, Ries, p. 2, for authorities on Die VoransieUung de» Wichtigen,

212 C. A. SMITH.

(6) The results obtained in the following dissertation are based •equally on a study of Alfred's Orosius and -^Elfric's Homilies, The figures following the citations from the Orosius refer to pi^ and line of Sweet's Edition for the Early English Text Society, 1883; those following the citations from the Homilies refer to volume and page of Thorpe's Edition for the -^Ifric Society (2 vols.), 1844, 1846.

When the order of words is the same in both, illustrative sentences are given only from the Oi^osius. The Homilies are cited for differences, and for the illustration of principles not sufficiently exemplified in the Orosius.

By keeping the two sets of citations thus distinct, I have tried to bring out more clearly the growth of Anglo-Saxon word-order in the tenth century toward the norm of modem English.

In this discussion my effort is, &s was Kube's, to find the syntactic norm. Although, for example, I give statistics for all possible positions of the dependent verb, whether influ- enced by rhetorical considerations or not, it is not to be inferred that occasional non-final dependent verbs in the Orosius show a tendency necessarily in conflict with the finals. In the following sentences, for example, Alfred, evidently for rhetorical reasons, places his dependent verbs immediately before the marvels that follow, so that nothing may check the full effect of his figures :

an cild geboren, \tbt hcefde iii fet and iii hauda and in eagan and III earan 220, 14.

for \oxx heo [an nsedre] wses hund twelftiges fota lang 174, 16.

Yet if these examples are to be counted at all in a statistical enumeration, made to find out what the position of the verb is in the majority of cases, i. e. what the syntactic (grammatical) norm is, they must stand in a seeming conflict with the usual norm in the Orosius which is that a dependent verb is final. Both of them, however, are perfectly normal. They are the exceptions that prove the rule, the difference being that they follow a rhetorical norm while the final verbs follow a syn- tactic norm.

^Ifric has a finer feeling for rhetorical effects than Alfred. Inversion, for example, in a dependent clause is rarely found

ORDER OF WORDS IK ANOLO-6AXON. 213

in Anglo-Saxon prose, yet ^Ifric in the following sentence skil- fully employs it as a means of preserving the preceding word- order and bringing out the contrast and balance between " arleas- nysse" and "deaS." He is speaking of Stephen's death :

Swipor he besorgade |>a heora synna |>onne his agene wunda ; swipor heora arleaanyss^*^ ponne Aw syi/ea deaS^^; and rihtlioe swi)?or, forj^an ]>e heora arleasnyase^*^ fyligde se eca dea'S, and );«t ece lif fyligde Aw dea^fP"^ i, 60.

In the two following sentences the pronominal objects (see p. 220 (2)) follow their verbs, so as to preserve the balance of the clause immediately preceding :

He [se deofol] and his gingran awyrdap^*^ manna lichaman^**^ digellice^*' |>urh^*> deofles^'^ cr8eft^'',and geh«la);^*> hi^**>openh*ce^'> on^**^ manna^*^ gesih);e^'^ I, 4.

He^»> b8er^^> pat ciW>, and l?»t cUd<*> b»r(^> hine<«> i, 136.

Under the head of " Transposed Order " (see p. 235 (d)), I have summed up the chief occasions when transposition is not observed with its usual frequency, but have left untouched the changes brought about by rhetoric. The syntactic norm must be clearly established before a rhetorical norm can be thought of, for the latter is largely a simple inversion of the former. If it be established, for example, that the usual position of pronominal objects is before the verbs that govern them, it fol- lows that any other position must by its very novelty arrest attention and make for emphasis, whatever Goodell may say of the logical or psychological aspects of the question.

(c) '^Can the numerous translations of Latin works, espe- cially the translations of Alfred, be r^arded as faithful repre- sentations of the natqral utterance of the translators? There seem to be strong reasons for answering this question in the affirmative, with certain limitations.^' ^ Wack * corroborates Sweet and adds : '^ Einfluss des Lateinischen auf die Sprache der Uebersetzung lasst sich weder im Wortschatz noch syntact- ischer Beziehung nachweisen.'' And again, " Wahrt Aelfred

'Sweet, Iniroduetion to Oura P<uioralt8 {E. E. T. 8oc.J. ' Ueber da» VerhdUniB von Kofdg Aelfreda UebeneUsung der Oura P<utorali$ •urn Original, Greifswald, 1889.

2J4 C. A. SMITH.

also der Uebertragung durchweg die Freiheit und Herrschaft der geroianischen Form/'

Speaking of the OrosiuSf " the only translation of Aelfred's which from the similarity of its subject admits of a direct comparison/' Sweet ^ says : " We find almost exactly the same language and style as in the contemporary historical pieces of the Chronicle."

Though the Voyages of Ohthere and Wulfstan exhibit marked variations from the general order of other portions of the Oromm, I see no reason for crediting the Latin with any note- worthy influence. Whatever the influence may have been, it must have been exerted in behalf of finalizing the verbs, both in dependent and independent sentences ; but I find only one sentence in which this influence seems exerted — the first sentence in the book. The Latin is : Majorca noatri orbem totius terras, Oceani limbo drcumseptum^ triquadrum atatuere. The Anglo-Saxon : Ure ieldran ealne j^isne ymbhwyrft J^ises middangeardes, cw«e)> Orosius, swa swa Oceanus utan ymb- ligep, pone (man) garsecg hate^S, on preo todaeldon. 8, 1. Here "on )?reo todeeldon," appearing at the end of a long independent sentence, corresponds exactly in position to " tri- quadnim statuere," and is the most violent transposition that I have noted.

It is, {)erhaps, needless to say that the influence of Latin is plainly seen in the blundering awkwardness of many passages in the Oroaiua? Sentences illustrating this are necessarily long, and the subject does not fall within the province of this paper, but the sentence b^inning 106, 7 and that beginning 212, 14 will give a general idea of the incompleteness and clumsiness to be found in Alfred's frequent and vain attempts to pit tlie looseness of Anglo-Saxon against the compactness of Latin. In 136, 32 the attempt is made to compress two Latin sentences into one, but in none of these is the word- order abnormal.

' Page 40 uf Introd. to Cura Pa8ioralis.

*Cf. Schilling's dissertation: Kimig ^IfretTs AngeUaehsische Btarbeitung der WeUyesehichU dea OroiiuB (Halle, 1886), p. 9.

ORD£R OP WORDS IN ANGLO-SAXON. 216

The question of Latin influence does not enter into the Homilies except where -Silfric occasionally quotes Scriptural Latin and adds immediately a literal translation. In such cases there is noticeable at times a tendency to conform the word- order as.closely as possible to the Latin/ so as, apparently, to impress the hearer with the feet that he is listening now not, as heretofore, to an interpretation of inspired thought, but to the inspired thought itself, dressed as far as possible in its native garb. E. g. He [Lucas] cwee)?, Postquam consummati sunt dies octo, etc. peet is on ure ge|>eode, ^fter l>an |>e waeron gefyllede ehta dagas, etc. i, 90. Such inversion, as noted before, is rare. In the Gospel of Luke (ii, 21) the oixJer is, -^fter )?am l?e ehta dagas gefyllede w«ron, and ^Ifric himself observes this order in the following example, where the Latin order is exactly as before : Cum natus esset lesus, etc. pa |>a se Haelend acenned wses, etc. i, 104. In the Gospel of Matthew the order is the same, though the words are different (Mat. ii, 1).^

(d) Using the terms employed by Whitney in his Cbmpen- dious German Grammar, I divide order, as related to subject and predicate into (1) Normal, (2) Inverted, and (3) Transposed. (1) Normal order = subject + verb. (2) Inverted = verb + subject. (3) Transposed -= subject . . . . -f verb.

It is only when the last division is viewed in relation to other sentence members besides the subject and predicate, that the propriety of a special designation is seen ; for subject and

' iBlfric, however, is almost entirely free from the examples of forced order so frequently occurring in the Angh-Saxon OoBpeU. Cf. the following, taken from the Notes to Bright's Oospel of Si. Luke in Anglo-Saxon^ pp. 109, 110 :

Luke 1, 27 {Clementine Vulgate) : Ad virginem desponsatam viro, cui nomen erat loeeph, de domo Dayid, et nomen virginis Maria.

Anglo-Saxon Oospel: to heweddudre fsemnan anum were, ]>$» nama wses losep, of Dauides huse; and Here f^mnan nama wes Maria.

JEAfric, Horn, i, 194: to "Sam msedene l>e wses Maria gehaten, and heo asprang of Dauides cynne, )>fes maran cyninges, and heo wies bewcddod ]>am ribtwisan losepe. See also Notes iJi, 4, 5; xi, 11, 12.

"The " paving letters" in the Rule of St Benet (E. E. T. 8oc. No. 90) would throw invaluable light on this subject if we had the original instead of a much mutilated copy. It is at present, however, impossible to rearrange the Latin words in the original alphabetical order of the " paving letters/^

216 C. A. SMITH.

predicate follow the order observed in (1), though the predi- cate comes last as related to its modlfiere.

For the component parts of the compound tenses, I use "auxiliary" for the first member, "verb" for the second. Though not so exact as " personal verb " for the first, and " non-persoual verb " for the second, or " Hilfsverbum " and "Hauptverbum," these terms have the merit of greater brevity,' and are equally self-defining.

By "de[>eiideut order" and " !nde|>em)ent order," I mean the order in dependent senteuces and independent sentences. When the term " verb " is used alone, it means a simple (non- compound) tense, which is always personal.

These respective orders will now be taken up in detail.

II. Normal Order.

Independent aerUencee.

Subject + verb + verb modifiers.

(a) By verb modifiers are meant accusative objects, dative ot^ects, predicate nouns and adjectives, (trepositional phrases, and adverbs. Of this order in general Ries remarks : " Die Voranstellung des Subjects ist im Indogermanischen, soweit die bistorische Kenntniss reicht, der Gruudtypus der Wortfolge und ist — soweit mir bekannt — mit alleiniger Ausnabme des Keltischen, in alien Zweigen dea Sprachstammes herrschend geblieben " (p. 9).

This sequence is employed in Anglo-Saxon for independent affirmative sentences.

(1) With simple tense :

piet Estland is swy«e mycel 20, 14.*

'nil can hudl7 be cbumcd for Ries'e aubatitution of " irregutu-germde Folga" ftir " Invenion," p. 2, thougli Id other reapecti the Unu ii » happfoa*.

* AnUofignrMinararjcHeahow thu the OrotnM i* referr«d to. Bomui (fcfcTToloine wd fugfi, indicate the BimUitt.

OBDER OP WORDS IN ANGLO-SAXON. 217

and se nim'S ];one Isestan dsel 21, 3.

He wses of Sicilia |?9em londe 54^ 17.

(2) When the verb is a compound tense the auxiliary fol- lows the order of the simple tense noted above, the second member following immediately, medially, or finally. When the adverbial designations are numerous, or of various kinds, the verb either immediately follows its auxiliary or takes a medial position among the adverbial designations. This is often a matter of rhetoric (of emphasis) and is the principle involved in the distinction between loose and periodic sen- tences. The language had not yet developed a norm and was thus more flexible in this respect than modern German. The final position of the second member, is, however, the most common if the modifiers are few.

In the following examples I shall quote inverted as well as normal sentences, for as far as the relative positions of auxiliary and verb are concerned, they are not to be dis- tinguished.

{a) Verb immediately following auxiliary :

ponne sceolon l)eon gesamnode ealle "Sa menu ^e swyftoste hors habba^ 20, 33. This triple verb is evidently bunched together so that "ISe'' and its clause may immediately follow " menu ; " but had there been no following clausal modifier of " menu," the order would more probably have been, ponne sceolon ealle "Sa menn beon gesamnode. See p. 240 (4).

Seo haefde gehaten heora gydenne Dianan |>8et, etc. 108, 16.

he wolde abrecan Argus )?a burg 158, 31.

nu wc sindon cumen to )?8em godan tidun 182, 14.

^fter )?8em wordum Ponipeius weariS gefliemed mid eallum his folce 242, 12.

Antonius and Cleopatro hsefdon gegaderocl sciphere on j^aem Readan Sae 246, 19.

(6) Verb medial :

pfiet tacen wearS on Roman um swi)?e gesweotolad mid J^aem miclan wolbryne 86, 23.

Ic hsebbe nu gessed hiora ingewinn 88, 28.

218 C. A. SMITH.

and nseron on hie hergende buton )?rie dagas 92, 36.

He wear)? |;eh swi)?or beswicen for Alexandres searewe |?onne 124, 18.

He wses on ^sem dagum gemsersad ofer ealle 6\fere cyningas 154, 25.

He wses eac on )?8em dagum gleawast to wige 154, 82.

(c) Verb final : ^

and Gallie wseron ser siex mona% binnan )?£ere byrig hergende and ya burg bsernende 94, 1.

and unease mehte £er aenig Ysem Gallium oSfleon o]>)?e o«hydan 94, 10.

);a hie ne mehton from Grail iscum fyre forbsernede weor)?an 94, 14.

pa wseron ealle )?a wif beforan Romana witan gela^Sede 108, 31.

nu ic wille eac ^sdn maran Alexandres gemunende beon 110, 10.

and yser wses his folc swa swiSe forslagen |?JBt etc. 244, 10.

(6) The position of datives (nouns and pronouns).

(1) The substantival dative, unless influenced by rhetorical considerations, stands between the verb and the direct object, as in modem English.

Ohthere saede his hlaforde, iElfrede cyninge, |?fiet, etc. 17, 1. (This clausal object makes the above position necessary in this case).

Romane gesealdon Gaiuse luliuse seofon legan 238, 16.

JEfter ]>edm Romane witan Claudiuse )?one hunger 260, 2 1 .

he gesealde Ualente his bre^r healf his rice 288, 11.

He gesealde Persum Nissibi |;a burg 286, 26.

and betahte his twsem sununi );one onwald 294, 30.

In the following sentence, the two appositive modifiers force the indirect object after the direct :

he sealde his dohtor Alexandre ysem cyninge, his agnura ms^ 118, 27.

' Earle notes a survival of this order in the legal diction of Modern Eng- lish {English Prose, p. 87).

ORDEB OF WORDS IN ANGLO-SAXON. 219

(2) The pronominal dative, however, comes between the subject and the verb.

He him )?a gehet 114, 25 and 27.

and him bebead 114, 30.

Hie );a sume him getygSedon 118, 15.

He Ys. Alexander him anum deadum lytle mildheortnesse gedyde 128, 14.

and hi him y^dt swi)?e ondrsedan 1*38, 5.

he him ^ );a to fultume com 140, 22.

and hi him gefylstan 162, 20.

and him ysst rice geagnedan 224, 20.

Romane him gef^ancodon 224, 32.

Hiere are many sentences in which the pronominal dative is drawn after the verb through the influence of a following word or phrase upon which the dative is dependent rather than upon the verb :

and gesetton him to cyningum twegen Hasterbalas 210, 26.

and he wearS him swa grom 260, 22.

he geceas him to fultume Traianus );one mon 264, 18.

But when dependent solely on the idea contained in the verb, the pronominal dative comes between the subject and the verb. Only nine variations are to be found in the Orosius (17, 9; 20, 1 ; 20, 4; 178, 18; 258, 28; 274, 14; 284, 5; 292, 28 ; 296, 5), and in some of these it is impossible to tell whether the dative is a modifier of the idea contained in the verb, the verbal modifier, or in the union of the two. Of course the dative after a preposition is here excluded.

JElfric is not so consistent in this respect as Alfred, his sequence being more modern. In a portion of the Homilies equal to the OroaiuSy there occur 86 pronominal datives, of which 64 precede the verb, 22 follow, — ^a ratio of about 3 to 1

an Adam him eallum naman gesceop i, 14.

God him worhte );a reaf of fellum i, 18.

*Here "him" is goTerned by "to fultume" rather than by "com." Most sentences of this sort observe the following order : he )»a com him to fultume. See below.

220 C. A. SMITH.

Drihten him andwyrde I, 126. But,

We secga); eow Godes riht I, 5G.

(c) The position of direct objects (nouns, clauses, and pro- nouns).

(1) Nouns and claunes follow the substantival dative if there be one;^ if not, they follow the verb but precede all other verbal modifiers.

Philippus gelsedde fird on Lsecedemonie and on Thebane 118,24.

Alexander hsefde gefeoht wi^ Porose l^aem, etc. 132, 16.

pa brohton Romane )?one triumphan angean Pomp, mid, etc. 234, 27.

and mon towearp );one weal ni);er op |;one grund 238, 12.

(2) The pronominal direct object precedes the verb, he hine oferwann and ofsloh 30, 11.

hy genamon Joseph, and hine gesealdon cipemonnum, and hi hine gesealdon in Egypta land 34, 2 (a fine illustration of all the preceding).

he hi psBT onfenge, and hi peer afedde 36, 11.

and se cyning Hasterbal hiene selfne^ acwealde 212, 7.

he )?a hiene selfue forbaernde 52, 7.

feng Titus to Romana onwalde, and hine hsefde ii gear 264, 1.

feng Lucius Antonius to rice, and hit hsefde xiii ger 268, 26. (This oft repeated clause, " and hit haefde " or " and hine h»fde," representing various Latin equivalents in the Oro«u«, never varies its order.)

Only four variations from the usual order are found in the Orosius (82, 18; 226, 10; 284, 28 ; 294, 28).

^Ifric, in a portion of the Homilies equal to the OrosiuSy employs 108 pronominal accusatives, of which 88 precede the verb, 20 follow, — a ratio of about 4 J to 1.

^ For examples, see p. 21S (1).

* The preference for this interposed position, both in the OrosiiLS and the Homilies, is not shown so decidedly by these intensive forms, " him selfnm " and " hiene selfne," as by the simple forms. Cf. exceptions under both heads.

ORDER OF WORDS IN ANGLO-SAXON. 221

and he hi Isedde ofer sse . . . . and he hi afedde i, 24.

and he hine lufode synderlice i, 58.

God on swefne hi gewarnode i, 78.

pa tungel-wit^an .... hine gemetton mid ]nere meder i^ 116.

But,

Stacteus .... astrehte hine to Johannes fotswa)?um i, 68.

(d) In imperative clauses with the subject unexpressed, pro- nominal objects, both dative and accusative, follow the verb.

Oromis (only one such construction) : Gesec^B me nu Ro- mane, cwserS Orosius, 194, 24.

Homilies: pes is min leofa Sunu .... gehyra); him i, 104.

Syle us to-ds^ urne dseghwamlican hlaf. And forgyf us ure gyltas .... Ac alys us fram yfele i, 268.

The reason why pronouns prefer the initial positions in a sentence is to. be sought, I think, in the very nature of pro- nouns. They are substitutes not merely for nouns, but for nouns that have preceded them in the paragraph or sentence. All pronouns are, thus, essentially relative; and just as relative pronouns proper follow as closely as possible their antecedents, so personal pronouns, partaking of the relative nature, partake also of the relative sequence.

As to whether an adverb should precede a prepositional phrase, or vice-versa, — it is purely a matter of relative em- phasis. As in modem English, there was, and could be, no syntactic norm.

III. Inverted Order.

Independemt sentences.

Verb + subject.

(a) When a word, phrase, or clause, other than the subject or a coordinate conjunction, begins the sentence, provided it be a modifier of the verb, the verb may be drawn after it, and the subject made to follow. 6

222 C. A. SMITH.

Inversion presents itself under two entirely distinct aspects :

(1) As a means of more closely uniting the inverted sentence with the preceding (by such words as " );a," " );onne," etc.) ;

(2) As a means of relative stress (as e. g. when the direct object begins the sentence). The one conduces to compactness and oontinaousness ; the other, to emphasis and efiTectiveness.

Inversion is by no means consistently employed in Anglo- Saxon prose ; hence I have avoided stating the principle in a dogmatic way. Grenerally speaking, it may be said that the Oro9m8f on account of its narrative nature, employs inversion for the first mentioned purpose oftener than the Homilies; while the HomilieSy on account of their expository nature, furnish more examples of inversion for purposes of rhetorical stress.

Kube finds the same dearth of inversion in the Chronicle, " her " when initial being followed by the normal more fre- quently than b^ the inverted order. The same may be said of " aefter ]>8dm " ^ in the Orosius. Kube thinks that the fre- quent repetition of " her " had weakened its inverting power. ^'E}s wurde ihm [dem verfasser] gleichsam zu einereinleitenden formel, nach der er seinen satz haute, wie er jeden anderen ohne diese formel gebaut haben wurde" p. 8. " JEfter |;89m," how- ever, is not of frequent occurrence in the Orosius, while " |;a " and ");onne" are ; yet inversion after " JEfter );8em" is as rare as it is frequent after "}>a" and ")?onne." It must be remem- bered that the essence of inversion is the closeness of interde- pendence between verb and initial word. Consistent inversion would assume that this union is constant and indissoluble, so that to move a verbal modifier to the beginning of the sentence must necessarily move the verb with it. But this cannot be true where constructions are as yet unfettered by traditional forms. The relation between verb and verbal modifier is not constant, but varies in degree even with the same words. Rhetoric, again, has kept the language from crystallizing into hard and merely mechanical forms of construction.

^ ^fter Hem ^ " is, of course, an entirely different construction, and intro- duces only dependent clauses.

ORDER OF WORDS IN ANGLO-SAXON. 223

In the following sentences, for example,

Maximianus he sende on Afiricani 280, 2.

Clonstantius he sende on Gallie 280, 3.

Galerius he sende on Perse 280, 8. one feels the superior distinctness with which these names are contrasted, not only by their being placed first but equally by their not drawing (though they are direct objects) the verb with them. The reader naturally pauses briefly after each name; but had the verb immediately followed, i, e, had inversion taken place (" Max. sende he," etc.), there would have been no room for a pause. In these cases, therefore, rhetoric has.disturbed what must still be called the usual norm.

(6) The chief cases of inversion are,

(1) By a word :

pa for lulius to Rome 240, 15.

pser hsefdon Romane ^ge, and ]^8er wses Grallia ofslagen 232, 11.

Si)^);an for lulius on Thesaliam 240, 29. Ne wene ic, cwseS Orosius 92, 18. Unease mseg mon .... gesecgan 128, 20. )?onne is Y\b land 19, 16.

(2) By a phrase :

For hwi besprecaS nu men 54, 33.

Eac buton );£em yfele nahton hie na);er, etc. 92, 33.

^fter his fielle wearS ];ara casera msegS offeallen 262, 5.

(3) By a clause :

JEr $8dm %e Romeburh getimbred wsere . . . ., ricsode Ambictio 36, 4.

Ic watgeare, cwse^ Orosius, 42, 1.

JEr l^aem )?e Romeburg getimbred w»re .... wees );8ette

Pd. and Ath winnende wseron 56, 6. (The inverted

subject is here the whole clause introduced by " J^sette ").

Inversion caused by an initial dependent clause is not frequent in Anglo-Saxon ; for most dependent clauses, when they precede independent ones, have some correlative word to introduce the latter (|;a . . . . |?a, |^onne .... J^onne) :

224 C. A. BMITH.

ponne he )^a ofer8wi"8ed haefde .... ]>ouue dyde he, etc., 112, 23.

Here the inversion in " dyde he " is caused by the second ");onne," not by the preceding clause. Such clauses were weaker in inverting power than either single words or phrases. The fact that it contained a separate subject and predicate gave the initial clause a certain independence, an isolation, a power to stand alone, and thus widened the breach between it and the verb of the succeeding clause which it limited. No better proof of this could be given than the tendency to sum up and reinforce the weakened effect of the preceding clause by some correlative or connective word. The interdependence of the two clauses was not strongly felt. Rask * correctly states the principle as follows :

" In general, however, as in English, the consequent propo- sition is not distinguished by any sign, not even by the order of the words, the subject being also here placed before the verb." " But when the particle of time, );a or )?onne, is repeated before a consequent proposition, the subject usually follows the verb, as in German and Danish.^'

Erd man n,* discussing a principal clause (Nachsatz) preceded by a dependent (Vordersatz), says: "Im Nhd. scheint die Voranstellung desVerbums im Nachsatze liberal 1 herrschende Regel geworden zu sein ; nur nach concessiven Vordersatzen unterbleibt sie oft, indem diese trotz ihrer Satzform fur sich als selbstandige Ausrufc gefasst werden und der Nachsatz dann (oft mit rhetorischer Pause) ganz ohne Riicksicht auf sie seine eigene Wortstellung bewahrt." What is here said of concessive clauses is true largely of all Anglo-Saxon dependent clauses in their effect upon succeeding clauses.

^fter ysdm )?e Philippus hsefde Ath. and Thes. him under- Bieded, he begeat, etc., 112, 8.

and ra];e );tes ];e hie togsedere c^man, Romane hsefdon sige, 160, 3.

^Ang. &ax, Oram, (translated by Thorpe, 1830), Fourth Part, pp. 118, 119. '^OrundtUge der deuiachen Syntaiy i 207.

ORDER OF WORDS IK AKGIiO-SAXON. 226

Ac ra)?e )?aBS ^e Hannibal to his fultame oom, he gefliemde ealle )>a consulas 190, 5.

In the Voyages of Okthere and Wuifstan^ there are three initial dependent clauses without a succeeding correlative, and none of them causes inversion (18, 16; 21, 12; 21, 16).

(c) There are no instances in the Orosivs of inversion to express condition, concession, or interrogation, and only two instances of inversion to express command or permission (100, 27 ; 182, 16).

The Homilies f however, show that the genius of the language allowed inversion for all the above purposes.

(1) Condition :

Ea)?e mihte )?es cwyde beon laewedum mannum bediglod, naere seo gastlice getacning i, 94.

(2) Concession : .

Beon )?a msedenn snotere, beon hi stunte, eallie hi moton slapan on );8em, etc. ii, 666.

(3) Interrogation :

Eom ic hit, Drihten? ii, 244. and gesawe ]^u Abraham ? ir, 236. Petrus, lufast ]fu me? ii, 290.

ne ondrsetst );u pe Grod? n, 266. (The n^ative invariably precedes in such sentences).

(4) Command :

The Lord's Prayer furnishes many examples (i, 268): Grebidda)^ eow, Sy )>in nama gehalgod, Cume \>\u rice, Sy )^in wylla, etc.

Ne ete ge of ]>Q,m lambe u, 264.

(As before, the negative must precede).

ne beo ge bitere ii, 322.

Ne bere ge mid eow pusan ii, 532.

Ne gecyrre ge naenne mann ii, 534.

There are a few cases in which the subject precedes : Ic wylle ; and |;u beo geclaensod i, 122 pset so^e Leoht .... onlihte ure mod u, 294. pu so)?Iice cyj? )>ine gesih)^e ii, 342.

226 C. A. SMITH.

In the following sentence, the two orders are combined : ^Ic sawul sy under);eod healicrum anwealdum ; ]fsdt is, Beo

selc man under);eod mihtigran men );onne he sylf sy. ii, 862. The occasional occurrence of inversion in dependent clauses

will be treated under the proper head. See p. 241.

IV. Trai^sposed Order.^ Dependent sentences.

(1) Svijed verb.

(2) Subject verb + auxiliary.

(a) Before taking up dependent sentences in detail, I wish to give the commonly accepted view in regard to the modern- izing influence of French upon Anglo-Saxon transposition. This is best stated as well as exemplifled by Fiedler and Sachs. The following is quoted from a paragraph headed, '' Einfluss des Franzosischen auf die Wortstellung im Englischen : '' ' " Wichtiger als alle die genannten Veranderungen, welche das Franzosische im Englischen hervorgebracht hat, ist die Ver- anderung der Wortstellung. Um nicht weitlaufig zu werden, beschranken wir uns, dieselbe an Beispielen klar zu machen.

6if weofod)^en be boca tsecinge his ageu lif rihtlice/acZigr^.

Si un pr^tre r^le sa vie sur les pr(5Scription8 des livres.

pa Darius geseah, )?at he o/ervmnnen beon toolde.

Lorsque Darius vit, qu'il serait vaineu."

(I omit as unnecessary the Grerman and English equivalents given by Fiedler and Sachs, as well as their numerous other examples.)

' Various explanations of Transposition have been offered, but the question is still unsettled. Cf. Wunderlich, Der deuUehe Satsbau^ 91 seq; Wacker- nagely Indogermanitche Forsehungen i, 333 seq; Erdmann, OrundMugt der deutsehen SyntaXf { 216, 8.

' WissentehafUiehe Orammatik der englischen Sprachty I, { 27.

Meiklejohn gives the same view (English Language, Part in, cap. in, 211).

ORDER OF WORDS IN ANGLO-SAXON. 227

The lessons which thej draw from such citations may be easily inferred ; but is the claim a true one, that the resem- blance between French and English order is due to the influence of Norman French ? The following results, it seems to me, settle this question in the negative :

A.

If the verb be a simple tense, the following scheme repre- sents all possible relative positions, whether with or without a direct object :

(1) Verb final.

»{

verb (with or without object) :

]>e Yess yfeles ordfruma waos 40, 16.

(2) Verb non-final.

{object + verb : for );on ]fe he mon^ anwealdas . . . geeode on yeem east- londum, 150, 16. f verb + object : \ l^set )?unor toslog heora hiehstan godes bus lofeses 160, 18.

^ ( verb (no object) :

I ]>sdt he bude on )?8em lande 17, 2.

B.

If the verb be a compound tense, the following scheme repre- sents all possible relative positions of its two members and the direct object :

(1) Verb final.

{object + aux.+ verb : )?a he hiene .... haefde gelsedd 286, 17. . f aux.+ object + verb : \ for l^on );e hie . . . . hsefdon gewinn up ahsefen 278, 22.

228 C. A. SMITH.

( aux. + verb (no object) :

I )^»t hie soeoldon .... besiiican 160, 29.

f object + \ hu he hi(

(2) Aux. final,

verb + aux. : hiene l>eswicaD mehte 52, 4.

{verb + object + aux. : ■ Does not occur in Or, or Horn. /. f verb + aux. (no object) : \ hwaer .... hweol on goi

gongende wsdron 38, 34.

(3) Avjx.-\-veTb iwn-final,

{object + aux. + verb : );»t he . • . gewinn mehte habban wi% hiene 240, 8. {aux.+ object -(- verb : ac sona swa 6. hssfde . . . fultum . . . gelsBdd angean Marius 230, 2. . r aux. + verb + object : I for \ovL )?e elpendes hyd wile driucan wsdtan 230, 26.

{aux.+ verb .... (no object) : ser he ut wolde faran to gefeohte 232, 4.

(4) Verb + aux. nonrfinal.

{object + verb + aux : yeh Ye hie hit . . . cy)?an ne dorsten for )?ara senatum ege 232, 27.

, f verb + object + aux :

\ Does not occur in Or. or Horn.

{verb + aux. + object : gif hie gemunan willa^ . . . uncla^nnessa 64, 14. {verb + aux (no object) : ra);e j^ces )^e . . . j^aet spell cufi wear? Cartainiensium 170, 4. I have noted according to these schemes 500 dependent clauses from the Orosius, none being omitted unless it con-

ORDER OF WORD6 IN ANGLOH3AXOK. 229

tained simply a subject and predicate (as^ '^ »r bio gefeolle '' 262, 7) and tbus had the final position forced apon its verb. Of these 600, 314 have simple tenses, of which (see scheme A.),

259 follow order of a

9 " " " 6

14 " " " c

32 " " " d

Of the 600, 186 have compound tenses, of which (see scheme B.),

4 follow order of a

20	((	tt	" b
27	tt	tt	« 0
31	a	tt	« d
0	tt	tt	" e
80	tt	tt	"/
1	ti	tt	''9
1	(t	tt	" h
3	tt	tt	« i
8	tt	tt	"J
1	it	tt	" k
0	tt	tt	" I
1	tt	tt	" m
9	u	tt	" n

These results show that if the verb be a simple tense, Alfred prefers to place it at the end, 82% being found in this posi- tion. If a compound tense, the auxiliary follows the verb proper and occupies the extreme end position, 59% (viz. classes d and/) following this order.

But these figures show more. An examination of scheme A shows that while 259 verbs (class a) are transposed, 46 (classes c and d) follow normal order (the order of inde- pendent sentences); while 9 show a mingling of the two norms.

230 C. A. SMITH.

In scheme B, 111 claufles (classes d and /) show complete transposition, 47 (classes 6 and c) assume normal order, while 28 show again a mingling of the two orders.

Thus there is already a movement in Early West-Saxon to abandon transposition in dependent sentences and to assume normal order instead. By the Mid. Eng. period, transposi- tion had disappeared entirely/ dependent sentences being leveled under the order of independent. ^^In der altesten englisehen Prosa aus der ersten Halfte des 13. Jahrhunderts ist die Konstruktion bereits vorzugweise franzosisch " (Fiedler and Sachs, § 29). This is true, but the point I here empha- . size is that, while the influence of French powerfully aided the movement against transposition, it did not create the movement, but only fostered it. The following statistics from the Homilies prove that in a century after Alfred's day and more than half a century before the Norman Con- quest, normal order had already practically triumphed over transposition. Of 314 simple tenses taken, as in the Orosius by pages from the Homilies^

155 follow order of a

20 " " " 6 67 " " " c 72 " " " d

•

Of JElfric^s 186 compound tenses,

3 follow order of a

21 " " " 6 48 " " " c 15 " " " d

0 " " " e

1 The following line (No. 7827, Harl. MS., Cant. Talee) is cited by Prof. Child in his ObiervatioTis on the Lang, of Chaucer and Oower, " Peculiar Order : "

** Of all this thing, which that I of have sajd." So rare a sorviTal, how- ever, does not at at all disprove my statement.

ORDEB OF WORDS IN ANGLO-SAXON. 231

38 follow order	of/
1 "		"9
4 "		" h
17 «		" i
33 "		"J
1 "		" k
0 "		" I
0 «		" m
5 "		" n.

Here, while there are no majorities, 166 simple tenses (class a) are transposed, 189 (classes c and d) follow normal order, while 20 show a mingling.

Of the compound tenses, 69 (classes 6 and c) assume normal order, 63 (classes d and/) show complete transposition, while 64 show a mingling of the two.

(6) Before taking up dependent clauses separately, I wish to note the occasional occurrence of transposition in inde- pendent clauses. In the Orosiua this is found most frequently in the so-called progressive forms of the verb, and in such cases the auxiliary follows the verb proper and occupies the extreme end position, thus exhibiting both marks of complete transposition.

and hi );a X gear •ymbe );a burg sittende wsdron and feoh- tende 60, 12.

pa folc him betweonum ful x winter );a gewin wraciende Wfleron 60, 20.

ac Romane mid hiora cristnam .... )?owiende wseron 64, 10.

Hie );ser );a winnende wseron 66, 21.

Hio mid )?sam .... farende waes 76, 27.

Sona sefter )?£em heora )?eowas wi$ )?a hlafordas winnende weeron 86, 29.

Though these progressive verbs employ transposition most consistently, it is not confined to them. When not due to rhetorical causes, an explanation of transposition in inde- pendent sentences may often be found in the law of analogy.

232 G. A. SMITH.

(1) Theanalogy of dependent sentences; (2) The analogy of independent sentences with pronominal datives or accusatives.

(1) and genamon^ anne earmne mon him to consule, );»r he on his SBcere eode^, and his sulh on handa hsefde"*, and si)?);an to Fulcisci ysBxn londe ferdon*, and hie ut forleton* 88, 7.

In this example, d is the verb of an independent clause, yet this verb follows two dependent final verbs (6 and c) and is by analogy, I think, drawn into a final position. The verb e is also final and independent, but could not take position before " hie " (its direct object) without violating a sequence which, as before shown, is most consistently observed by Alfred.

Ne wene ic . . . . );8Bt ic hie on ]^iase bee geendian msBge ; ac ic o)^ere anginnan sceal 94, 16.

I do not think that " wene '^ extends its influence to the second predicate, but rather that the latter is drawn into the dependent (transposed) order by the magnetism of '* geendian msBge."

The following is a fine illustrative sentence : he );a wende on )^a ane ]fe him );a getriewe wseron, and heora burg gefor, and )?8Bt folc mid ealle fordyde, and heora hergas towearp, swa he ealle dyde )?e he awer mette 112, 36. (Cf. also 160, 30).

(2) By recurring to the citations given in the treatment of pronominal datives and accusatives, pp. 219, 220, and noting how frequently these pre-posed pronouns draw other words with them, one sees that a norm already existed in Alfred's prose for finalizing the verb even in independent sentences. One more citation will suffice :

Hie for )>£em hie gebulgon, and ];a burg forleton, and mid eallum heora fultume Romane sohton 92, 10.

Hei'e " gebulgon," which occupies its usual pasition, has set the fashion for the two following verbs.

Many similar cases could be given, though I by no means limit the influence of these pronouns to sentences in which they occur in juxtaposition to independent sentences.

(c) The two schemes for dependent sentences given under A. and B. include a count of all classes, — temporal, local, rela-

ORDER OF WORDS IN ANGLO-SAXON. 233

live, comparative, clauses of degree, causal, conditional, final and result clauses, concessive, indirect affirmative, indirect interrogative, and indirect imperative. I note no difference in any of these clauses as regards relative frequency or infrequency of transposition, except the three last named, which I reserve for special treatment later on.

As the difference between Alfred's word-order in dependent clauses and that of ^Ifric has already been discussed, the following treatment is based wholly on the Orosius, In each case the list of introductory particles is exhaustive. As the word-order in the Voyages of Ohthere and Wulfstan is more like that of ^Ifric than of Alfred, I shall for each class of clauses give the order peculiar to this portion of the Orofdus}

(I) Temporal clauses: ];a« ser, };onne, hwilum . . . ];89t, }?a hwile );e, o}?, );y . . }?e, si};};an, ser );8Bm );e, sona swa, gemong }?8em );e, mid );8Bm );e, ra);e )?«es );e.

No hard and fast line can be drawn between temporal and relative clauses. They are often one and the same (cf. the frequent " f^e's " in temporal introductory words), but I r^ard the clause as temporal whenever the adverbial idea seems more prominent than the adjectival. (It hardly need be said that " |?a " and " ];onne '^ often mean " then " not " when," that " );8Br " often means " there " not " where," and so for other introductory words. In such cases they have nothing to do with dependent clauses, and have already been treated under Inverted Order.)

of? hie binnau j^aere byrig up eodon 90, 30.

Gemong );8em );e Pirrus wi^ Romane winnende waes 160, 6. (Cf. also 168, 16 ; 56, 17 ; 214, 16.)

The most frequently occurring temporal clause in the Oro- sins is **^r );8em );e Romeburh getimbred wcere" with the number of years. Almost every chapter of every book b^ins with it or its later substitute "^fler );8em )7e R. getimbred

* March ( Oram, of the Ang.Sax. Lang,) has based his discussion of Arrange- ment (p. 214) chiefly on this portion of the Onmats and Alfred^s prefaces.

234 C. A. SMITH.

wses/' These clauses occur 91 times^ and only twice is the order of auxiliary and verb reversed, " wees getimbred *' occurring in 270, 5 and 278, 6.

In 0. and W, ( Voyages ofOhthere aaid Wulfstan) the tendency is to finalize, but 4 of the 5 compound temporal clauses have aux.+ verb instead of verb + aux.

(2) Local clauses : };8er, hwser.

hwser };ara wigwssgna hweol on gongende wseron 38, 34.

ysdv nan mon ser ne si};};an mid firde gefaran ne dorste, buton Al. 150, 19 (172, 19; 214,5).

There is but one example in 0. and W: ]>vdr hit smalost waere 18, 32.

(3) Relative clauses : ]>e.

Unless "se, seo, j^set" was clearly relative, I have excluded the clause. The position of the verb in the Orodus is the best criterion ; but to use this criterion when the position of the verb is the thing sought would, of course, be illogical. When coupled with " ];e'" it is relative, and often when preceded by a preposition, which "}?e" never admits in the Orosius (Cf. 164, 23; 174, 9), Nor have I included cases of supposed omitted relatives, for in such cases it is as easy to suppose an omitted demonstrative as an omitted relative (Cf. 96, 10 ; 170, 31).

j^e hy m^t bi libba}? 30, 10.

};e ];ees cristendomes wi};erflitan sint 84, 26 (98, 18 ; 194, 29).

Of the 16 relative clauses in 0. and W,y 5 have independent order.

(4) Comparative clauses : ];onne.

for );an );e he bryc)> 8wi)>or on );one su];dsel );onne he do on bone norj^dflel 24, 26 (a good example of order influenced by balance).

);onne hio ler . . . . wsere 40, 25 (210, 24 ; 220, 16 ; 222, 1 ; 224, 33).

There is but one comparative clause in 0. and W: };onne SBnig man ofer seon maege 19, 19.

(5) Clauses of degree and manner : swa.

ORDER OF WORDS IN ANGLO-SAXON. 236

8wa hit ser wses 40, 1.

8wa hi mon syj^f^an het Persi 40, 34.

It is only when " swa *' is doubled, " swa .... swa '^ or ** swa swa," that the clause is properly one of degree rather than manner. E. g. in the following and in all those from 0, and W:

gesecgan swa monigfeald yfel swa on f^sem ];rim gearum gewurdon 128, 20.

Of the 6 in 0. and W,, 5 follow normal order.

(6) Causal clauses : for );8Bm, for j^sem );e, for )>on, for pon }?e, yadt (21, 15), uu.

for }?on hy hyre nane bysene ser ne cu]?an 30, 23.

nu ic longe spell habbe to secgenne 94, 16. (164, 21 ; 250, 31).

Of the 6 causal clauses in 0. and W.^ 5 have normal order.

(7) Conditional clauses: gyf, gif, buton, swelce, gelicost ]?eem ]fe.

buton hie on heora wifa hrif gewiton 54, 4. swelce hie of oj^erre worolde come 92, 31. (170, 11; 214,24; 286,15).

The 2 in 0. and TT. (19, 13; 21, 12) are more transposed than normal.

(8) Final and Result clauses : };89t, to ]7on pset.

j^set he eal ysdt land mid sweflenum fyre forbsernde 32, 9.

]fSBt he his modor siege on his bre);er gewrecan mehte, 150, 34, (240,19; 294,24).

Only one result clause occurs in 0. and W, (21, 17); the verb is final, but aux. precedes verb proper, thus producing a mingling of the two norms.

(9) Concessive clauses : );eah, );eah }?e, ]>eh, );eh );e, );a. ^a hio hit };urhteon ne mihte 30, 22.

};eah hit wind o};];e s«s flod mid sonde oferdrifen, 38, 36. (120,17; 232,27; 256,6).

0, and W. : }?eah man asette tw^n fsetels full eala]; o);}?e wseteres 21, 15.

{d) The three dependent clauses which I have called indi- rect affirmative, indirect interrogative, and indirect impera-

236 C. A. SMITH.

tive, — following respectively verbs of saying, asking, and com- manding,—differ from all other dependent clauses in having been once independent themselves. They fall therefore under the head of oratio obliqua, and are substantives while all other dependent clauses are adverbs or adjectives. This substantival trio shows a frequent tendency to return, in regard to position of words, to its original independence, and thus to dispose its words according to oratio recta rather than to the demands of oratio obliqua. Of the 500 clauses counted from the OrosiiLS, 90 consist of substantival clauses introduced by '' ^BdiJ' Of these, 44 have compound tenses, 46 simple. Of the simple tenses (see p. 227),

21 follow order of a 2 " " " b

9 " " " c

14 " " " d

Of the compound (see p. 227 seq.),

2 follow order of a 11 " " " b

17	u	ii	" c
7	ii	a	" d
0	u	a	" «
3	u	a	"/
1	tt	a	"9
0	u	ti	" h
1	ti	a	" t
2	u	a	"i
0	ii	a	" k
0	u	a	" I
0	u	a	" m
0	ti	a	" n

ThuH it is seen that a minority of these '* ];eet " clauses fall in the predominating classes of dependent clauses, viz., a for

ORDER OF WORDS m ANGLO-SAXON. 237

simple tenses^ d and /for compouDd; while the majority are found in those classes which, with more or less faithfulness^ follow the normal instead of the transposed order.

As was to be expected, the tendency in oratio obliqua clauses to revert to the normal order is fiu* more marked in the Homi- lies than in the Orosius, Of the 500 clauses counted from the HamilieSy 96 consist of substantival '^f^set" clauses. Of these, 50 have simple tenses, 46 compound. Of the simple tenses,

13 follow order of a

7 " " " 5

15 " " " 0

15 " " " d

Of the compound,

0 follow order of a

8	ii	• ii	" 6
7	u	a	" 0
2	ii	a	" d
0	a	ii	« e
7	ii	ii	"/
1	a	ii	"9
0	a	a	« h
9	a	a	" i
11	a	ii	"J
0	a	a	" k
0	a	ii	" I
0	ii	a	" m
1	n	a	" n

The existence, then, of this group of substantival clauses, but especially the indirect affirmative clauses, which even in Alfred's time resisted transposition and reverted to their origi- nal normal order, was, I believe, an important though hitherto overlooked factor in the ultimate disappearance of transposi- 7

238 C. A. SMITH.

tioD and the triumph of the normal order in all dependent clauses. The frequency of these " );8et " clauses is attested by the figures just given, 90 in the OrosiuSy 96 in the Hcymilies. No other dependent clause approaches this ratio.

Briefly stated, then, the leading diflerence between the word order in Anglo-Saxon and that in Middle English or Modern English is found in the frequent transposition occurring in Anglo-Saxon dependent clauses. But this transposition had already, even in tlie period of Early West-Saxon, begun to show signs of decay, and, in the Late West-Saxon period, was fast disappearing. This was due, I think, chiefly to the fol- lowing three causes : (1) The greater simplicity of the normal order ; (2) The norm set by independent clauses and the con- sequent levelling of dependent clauses under this norm ; (3) The norm set by indirect afiirmativc clauses, which gradually spread to other dependent clauses.

The introduction of Norman French only consummated these influences.

Bies, p. 66 (see p. 210), finds that in the HUiaiul indirect affirmative clauses take the normal order, provided the intro- ductory word be omitted; and Erdmann, p. 194 (see p. 224), remarks that, *' Im Mhd. und Nhd. haben solche satze stets die einfache Wortstellung nach Typus i : ich weiss, er lohnt es ihm." This corroborates the view that I have been urging, yet, in many cases at least, the clause ought not to be considered dependent when " );8et '' is omitted, the omission serving rather as an evidence that the thraldom of the verb of saying has ceased to be felt. The author has taken the narrative into his own hands. In the Voyages of Ohihere and WulfstaUy for example, if "sflede^^ be as exacting as the Latin "dixit," one would have to consider no clause independent except the few that have this very " scede " for their predicate. This is clearly not the case. When I speak, therefore, of " y^t " clauses, I mean those clauses preceded by " ptet " expressed, not under- stood.

(1) Substantival " ]>sdt " clauses :

ORDER OP WORDS IN ANGLOHSAXON. 239

ysdt hi gesawon tnannes blod agoten 30^ 8.

ysst W8B8 \fadt forme ]fSdt hyra wieter wurdon to blode 36, 25.

The preceding sentence is the first of the ten plagues. Throughout them all the normal order is preserved.

]>tet hit wffis Godes stihtung 252, 29.

ysdt hio waere mid gimstanum gefrgetwed 252, 27.

};8et hie woldon };a onwaldas forlsetan 280, 20.

I^set he hine mehte Isedan ];urh ]>gdt westen 286, 16. (For transposed order, see 128, 5 ; 174, 24 ; 244, 17.)

Of the 15 " }?8et " clauses in 0. and TT., but one transposes :

}?set he ealra Norpmonna nor)>mest bude 17, 1.

(2) Indirect interrogative clauses :

hu, for hwy, hwy, hwser, hwelc, hwe);er :

to gesecgenne hu monege gewin si)>]7an wseron betuh M. and C. and S. 52, 8.

on hu micelre dysignesse men nu sindon on };eosan cristen- dome 136, 17.

for hwy hie noldon ge];encan ealle );a brocu 224, 27. (For transposed order see 164, 28 ; 202, 33 ; 260, 6.)

There are but 3 such sentences in 0. and TT., all with sim- ple final verbs.

(3) Indirect imperative clauses : ]fsst :

He .... biddende wses .... ]>8Bt hie and Lac. mosten wii$ Persum .... sumne ende gewyrcan 82, 22.

bsedan ]>8et him mon sealde senne cucne mon 102, 28.

onbudon .... };£et he come mid feawum monnum to Rome 240, 2.

bebead .... {^set hie simle gegripen ]f8&a licgendan feos 260, 31. (For transj^sition see 82, 21; 98, 14; 164, 27; 176,2; 178, 18.)

No imperative clauses occur in 0. and W.

The last two classes of sentences, (2) and (3), do not follow the normal order as consistently as do indirect affirmative clauses. It is to be remembered that these two classes had not the same original order in oratio recta that the affirmative clause had. E, g, " He cwce? );8et he bude on,'^ etc., was

240 C. A. SMITH.

originally " Ic bue on '^ = normal order. But " Lucinius bebead ]?eet nan cristen mon ne come on/' etc., was originally "Ne come nan cristen mon on," etc. = inverted order. So also the interrogative clause was originally inverted. All had their verbs, therefore, near or at the beginning of the sentence and thus are fortified, as it were, against transposi- tion ; but the original affirmative norm proved most potent, for it had both subject and predicate already in the normal order, while the two latter classes had to re-invert before assuming the normal order.

(4) A fourth cause that operates against transposition is the tendency to bring modifying and modified words as closely together as possible. This can occur only when the second dependent clause modifies some word in the first other than the predicate. The disturbance is thus limited practically to relative and comparative clauses.

Relative clauses :

for ];on ye se cyning ne gemunde };ara monigra teonena ];e hiora 8eg]7er .... gedyde 52, 21.

Here " gemunde," the predicate of the first dependent clause, could not take its usual order in the Orosiua without separat- ing " teonena " and " )7e," modified and modifying words (cf. also 112, 24; 196, 18; 258, 27; 296, 23).

Comparative clauses :

and for Son ];e sio sunne ]fSdT gseS near on setl }?onne on oSrum lande 24, 17. Here, for the same reason as above, " g8B); " could not come between "setl " and " };onne " without separating two intimately connected ideas (cf. 52, 1 ; 192, 28 ; 192, 33).

(5) Another dependent clause which violates the usual final position of the verb in the Orosiua is the relative clause having as its predicate some form of " hatan." The complementary noun ends the sentence ")7e man hset Euxinus" being the norm and not " ]7e man Eux. hset." In the first 28 pages of the Orosius, the geographical portion, in which this clause most frequently occurs, there are 58 instances of " ]fe " with

OBDEB OF W0BD6 IN ANGLO-SAXON. 241

'^ hatan/' and in 44 of these the normal order is used instead of the transposed. Cf. also the invariable " )?e o)?re noman hatte'^ with the noun added. E. g. ''];e of^re noman hatte Curtius" 102,30.

In a portion of the HomiUes equal to the Orosiua, the rela- tive clause with ^' hatan " occurs 32 times ; 30 of these follow the Alfredian type and thus resist transposition.

(6) Instead of the transposed or normal order, inversion is sometimes found in dependent clauses and is produced by the same causes that produce it elsewhere ; viz., by some sentence member, other than the subject, following the introductory particle. It is not of frequent occurrence in the Orosiua or the HomUiea.

];onne f^ser bi); man dead 20, 20. ]7set ysdv com hagol 38, 8.

op ]7ara Persea wses ungemetlic wsel gesls^en 80, 25. padtie on anre dune neah Bomebyrig tohlad seo eor)?e, an^ wses bymende fyr up of f^aere eor);an 160, 23.

(7) When there are many verbal modifiers, or when the idea contained in the verb is distributed (as by " ge . . . . ge," " ne . . . . ne ''), the verb prefers a medial position and often immediately follows the subject.

gif hie gemunan willaS hiora ieldrena uuckennessa, and heora wolgewinna, and hiora monigfealdan unsibbe, and hiora unmilt sunge pe hie, etc. 64, 14.

The predicate might have been placed after the first or second of these objects, but could hardly have occupied a final position. The relative clause (see p. 240) is also a disturbing element in the above sentence.

buton ];8em pe mon oft hergaade sdgper ge on hie selfe ge on heora land set ham 90, 25.

swa .... pset hie na}?er nsefdon si};};an ne heora namon ne heora anweald 98, 7. (Cf. also 98, 22 ; 184, 2 ; 190, 7 ; 240, 28 ; for this principle as well as the disturbing influence of a relative clause, see 38, 9 ; 82, 18.)

242 C. A. SMITH.

These seven cases, then, are the leading instances in which both Alfred and ^Ifric roost consistently reject the transposed order in dependent sentences. Most of them are general causes, applicable to all Anglo-Saxon prose, and thus constitute links in the chain of influences which more and more circumscribed the sphere of the transposed order and extended that of the normal, or more natural and logical, order.

(e) In the OrosiuSy pronominal datives and accusatives pre- cede the subject of the dependent clause as frequently as they follow it, there being no prevailing norm.

Pronouns precede subject :

o)f him Pilatus onbead 254, 23.

]7£et hiene monige for god hsefde 254, 24.

o]; him J^a biscepas ssedon 114, 3.

o\ };set him on se miccla firenlust on innan aweox 32, 8.

};eah hit wind oj'j^e S8bs flod mid sonde oferdrifen 38, 36.

swa hit Grains ge};oht hs^fde 258, 19.

Pronouns follow subject :

];eet ic hie . . . geendian msege 94, 17.

};e J'a Finnas him gylda}; 18, 16.

)?e he him onwinnende wses 30, 5.

o}f hie him ];8er card genamon 44, 27.

}>8ette ];a earman wifmen hie swa tintredon 48, 13.

)>eh ]7e hie hit openlice cy)>an ne dorsten 232, 27.

In the Homilies^ these datives and accusatives follow the subject more often than they precede it. Here, as in every case, the Homilies mark an advance toward a freer and more natural order, in this case the order found in independent sen- tences. Out of 72 datives, 52 come between the subject and the verb, 20 precede the subject. Out of 98 accusatives, not one precedes its subject.

A peculiarity of the OrosiuSy not shared by the Homilies^ is the invariable position of the indefinite " mon " after pro- nominal datives and accusatives.

]>Bdt hie mon ofer8wi};an mehte 160, 4.

hwee];er hiene mon . . . geflieman mehte 192, 15.

ORDER OF WORDS IN ANGLO-BAZON. 243

Ac };a hit mon to him brohte 242, 18. ]>mi him mon sealde eenne cucne mon 102, 28. ye him mon gebead 94, 27, ]78Bt him mon geswicen heefde 52, 6. for }?8Bm ye him mon . . . forwiernde 78, 9. Cf. these with " ysdt mon pa peowas freode," in which the object is not a pronoun but a noun.

INDEX.

1. Lntroduction. Pagb.

(a) Previous investigatioiis 210

(6) Purpose of paper 212

(c) Influence of Latin 213

{d) Definition of terms. 215

II. Normal Order.

(a) Simple and Compound tenses 216

(6) Datives! jj) ^"^^^^^ !!!

^ ' 1(2) Pronominal 219

(c) Accusatives/ (1^ SubstanUval 220

^ ^ 1(2) Pronominal 220

(d) Pronominal objects in imperative clauses 221

III. Inversion.

(a) In general 221

{By a word 223

By a phrase 228

By a clause 223

(c) To express:

(1) Condition 226

(2) Concession 226

(3) Inten^)gation 226

(4) Command 226

IV. TRANSPaSITION.

(a) Counter influence of French 226

(b) Transposition in independent clauses 231

(c) Dependent clauses separately treated 232

{d) Disturbing influences in transposition 236

244

C. A. SMITH.

Paob.

(1) Indirect affirmative daoses. ^

(2) Indirect interrogative dauses. V 238

(8) Indirect imperative daoses. J

(4) Relative and comparative clauses. 240

(5) Relative daoses with <'hatan" 240

(6) Inversion in dependent dauses 241

(7) Multiplidty of verbal modifiers 241

(«) Pronominal datives and accusatives. 242

C. Alphonso Smith.

PUBLICATIONS

OF THE

MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION OF AMERICA,

1893.

(Vol. VIII, 3.) New Series, Vol. I, 3.

v.— THE ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN MIDDLE AND MODERN ENGLISH.

Introduction.

There is much divergence of opinion among scholars as to the naming of the main periods of the English language, and hardly any two agree in regard to the limits of each period. But in treating of the absolute participle, an arbitrary division must be made according to the occurrence and development of this form in the language. The following division into three periods will therefore serve our purpose :

•

Anglo-Saxon — to 1150; Middle English— 1150 to 1500; Modern English — 1500 to the present.

For the Anglo-Saxon period the subject of the absolute participle has received full and scientific treatment at the hands of Morgan Callaway, Jr., in his dissertation (Johns Hopkins University), The Absolute Participle in Anglo- Saxon, Baltimore, 1889. This admirable monograph has

245

246 c. H. BOSS.

already received its meed of praise from scholars both in this country and abroad, and it takes rank as one of the most important contributions to the much neglected subject of English syntax. Callaway treats thoroughly of the occur- rence, the uses, the origin, and the stylistic effect of the abso- lute participle in the whole range of Anglo-Saxon literature. He also discusses the origin of the construction in the other Teutonic languages, thus showing appropriate breadth of treatment. It is hardly necessary to add that this disserta- tion has served as a model for the present monograph in its general features.

Definitions of the absolute participial clause are not want- ing, but the most comprehensive one yet given is that of Callaway : " When to a substantive not the subject of a verb and dependent upon no other word in the sentence (noun, adjective, verb, or preposition) a participle is joined as its predicate, a clause is formed that modifies the verbal predi- cate of the sentence and denotes an accompanying circum- stance,'' as in : " The train having gone, I returned home."

The following texts have been read :

(a) Middle English:

1. Anc, i2tM?fe = Morton, The Ancren Riwle. Camden Society, London, 1853.

2. Ballads = Child, English and Scottish Ballads, 2 vols. Boston, 1885.

3. Caxton = Hazlitt, Paris and Vienna. Roxburghe Li- brary, London, 1868.

4. Ch, Astrol. = Brae, The Treatise on the Astrolabe. Lon- don, 1870.

5. Ch, Boeth. = Fumivall, Chaucer^ s Boec£, Chaucer Society, London, 1886.

6. Ch, Mdib, = The Tale of MelibeuSy in Morris's Chancery in. 139-197.

ABSOLUTE PABTIGIPLE IN ENGLISH. 247

7. Ch. Person = The Peraonea Tale, Morris, m. 263-368.

8. Ch. Poems = Morris, Chaucer^s Poetical Works. 6 vols. London, 1888.

9. Oonstance^= The Story of Constance. Chaucer Society : Originals and Analogues^ London, 1872.

10. Fortesctie = The Difference between an AbsolvJte and Limited Monarchy, London, 1714.

11. Oamelyn=Skea,t,TheTaleofGamelyn. Oxford, 1884.

12. Gower = Pauli, The Qmfessio Amantis. 3 vols. Lon- don, 1857.

13. Hampole = Perry, English Prose Treatises of Richard Rolle de Hampole. EETS., London, 1866.

14. Havelok^= Skeat, The Lay ofHavehk the Dane. EETS., London, 1868.

15. Hocoleve=FurniysLn, The Minor Poems. EETS., Lon- don, 1892.

16. jHbm = Morris, King Hatm, in Specimens of Early English, i. 237-286.

17. James /= Skeat, The Kingis Qtmir. Scottish Text Socy., Edinburgh, 1884.

1 8. Juliana = Cockayne, The Liflade ofSL Juliana. EETS., London, 1872.

19. Landry^=Wnghty The Book of the Knight of La Tour- Landiy. EETS., London, 1868.

20. ian^fand = Skeat, The Vision of William concerning Piers the Plourman, 2 vols. Oxford, 1886.

2 1 . Malory = Wright, The History of King Arthur. 3 vols. London, 1866.

22. Mand. Hall. = Halliwell, The Voiage and Travaile oj Sir John Maundevile. London, 1869.

23. Jifand.^= Warner, The Buke of John Maundeuilly with French original. Roxburghe Club, Westminster, 1889.

24. Paston = Gairdner, The Paston Letters. 3 vols. Lon- don, 1872.

25. Pecock = Babington, The Repressor of Over Much Blam- ing of the Clergy. Vol. I. London, 1860.

248 c. H. Roes.

26. RomatMit = Morris^ The Romawnt of the Bose, in his Chancery vi. 1-234.

27. Wydif Pr. = Arnold, Select English Works. Vol. i. Oxford, 1869.

28. Wyclif = Forehsll md Msiddeny The Holy Bible. Vol. IV. Oxford, 1850.

29. York Plays = Smith, York Mystery Plays. Oxford, 1885.

(6) Old French:

1. Constance ^ = Brock, The Life of Constance, from Trivet's Anglo-Norman Chronicle. Chaucer Society, London, 1872.

2. Havelok ' = Wright, Le Lai d'Havelok fe Danois, \n G^imar's Anglo-Norman Metrical Chronicle. Caxton Society, London, 1850.

3. Landry ^ = de Montaiglon, Le Livre du Chevalier de la Tour Landry. Paris, 1854.

4. Mand.^ = See Mand.^ in (a) Middle English.

5. Map = Furnivall, La Queste del Saint Oraal. Rox- burghe Club, London, 1864. (English in Malory, iii. 51-187.)

6. Mdib? = Histoire de MelliMe, in Le Menagier de Paris, I. 186-235. Soc. des Biblioph. Franj., Paris, 1846.

7. Roman = Michel, Le Roman de la Rose. 2 vols. Paris, 1864. .

(c) Italian:

Fil. = II FUostratq, in Opere Volgari di Giovanni Boccojccio, vol. xin. Firenze, 1831. (English in Chaucer's Troylus and Oryseyde.)

(d) Modern English:

1. -4ddi8on = Green, Essays. London, 1890.

2. Arnold = Essays in Criticism. 1 st and 2nd Series. New York, 1888.

= Poetical Works. London, 1890.

3. JSocon = Morley, JSSMay«. London, 1883.

ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 249

4. Bemers = Lee, Hium of Bordeaux. Vol. i. EETS., London, 1882.

5. Birrell = ObUer Dicta, let and 2nd Series. New York, 1890.

6. JBtacAmare = Lorna Doone. 3 vols. New York, 1891.

7. JBroMm^ = Greenhill, Rdigio Medici, London, 1889.

8. Brovmingy Mrs, = Aurora Leigh, New York, n. d.

9. Bunyan = The PUgrim's Progress, New York, n. d.

10. Burke = Payne, Reflections on the Revolution in France, Oxford, 1888.

11. Cooper = The Spy, Troy, 1886.

12. Dante/ = Haslewood, A Defence of Ryme, London, 1815.

13. De Qmncey = Morley, Confessions of an English Opium- EaJter, London, 1886.

14. Dickens = David Copperfidd and Pickwick Papers, Boston, 1887.

1 5. Dryden = Arnold, An Essay of Dramatic Poesy, Ox- ford, 1889.

= Christie, Select Poems. Oxford, 1883.

16. George Eliot = Romota, New York, n. d. •

17. Fielding = The History of Tom Jones, 2 vols. New York, 1879.

18. Forster = The Life and limes of Oliver Goldsmith. Vol. I. London, 1854.

1 9. Franklin =: Montgomery, Autobiography, Boston, 1891.

20. Fr(yude=Coesar. New York, 1887.

21. Goldmnith=TheVicar of Wakefield, New York, 1882.

= Dobson, Selected Poems, Oxford, 1887.

22. Gosson = Arber, The Schoole of Abuse, London, 1868.

23. Gray = Gosae, Letters, Vol. i. London, 1884.

24. Greene = Ward, Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay. Ox- ford, 1887.

25. Hawthorne = The Scarlet Letter. Boston, 1889.

26. Holmes = The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table, Bos- ton, 1889.

260 C. H. BOSS.

27. Hooker =: Morley, The Laws of EodesioMical PoUty. Pref. and Bk. i. London^ 1888.

28. Hughe8= Tom Brovm'a School Days. New York, 1888.

29. Irving = Oliver Ooldamith, New York, 1859.

=: Knickerbocker^ 8 History of New York. Phila.,

1873. = Conquest of Oranada. Chicago, n. d.

30. J^erson=^ Autobiography. New York, 1890.

31 . Johnson = The History of Basselas. New York, 1882.

32. Jonson = Morley y Discoveries. London, 1889.

33. Latimer = Morley, Sermons on the Card. New York, 1886.

34. Lewes = Life of Ooethe. London, 1864.

35. Lodge = Morley, Rosalind. New York, 1887.

36. Lowell =: Among my Books. 2 vols. Boston, 1890.

37. Lyly =. Arber, Euphues : The Anatomy of Wit. Lon- don, 1868.

38. Macaulay = Essays. Vol. i. New York, 1885.

39. Marlowe = lE\liQy Plays. London, 1887.

40. Marprekde = Petheram, Martin Marprdaie Trads • {Epistle, Epitome, and Hay any work for Cooper). London,

1842-45.

41. MiUon = Morley, English Prose Writings. London, 1889.

= Browne, English Poems. 2 vols. Oxford, 1887.

42. Mitchell =i Reveries of a Baxihelor. New York, 1889.

43. More = Lumby, History of King Richard IIL Cam- bridge, 1883.

44. Murfree = The Prophet of the Great Smoky Mountains. Boston, 1889.

45. iVa»A€=Grosart, Martin's Month's Minde, in The Oomr- pleU Works of Nashe, i. 141-205. 1883-84.

46. Palgrave (ed.)= The Oolden Trea^sury. London, 1890.

47. Parkman = MorUoalm and Wolfe. Vol. i. Boston, 1884.

ABSOLUTE PABTICIPLE IN ENGUBH. 251

48. Pepys = Braybrooke, Diary. Vol. i. London, 1889.

49. Pope = Ward, Essay on Man and The Dundad. Lon- don, 1889.

50. Hives =: Barbara Bering. Philadelphia, 1892.

51. BusMn== The Seven Lamps of Architecture. Chicago, 1889.

52. Scott = Ivanhoe. New York, 1883.

= Montgomery, Marmion, Boston, 1891.

53. ShaJeespeare='Ro\fe: Twelfth Night, Merchant of Venice^ As You Like It, TroUus and Oressida, King Henry IV, Pts. l and n. New York, 1890.

54. Sidney = Morley, A Defence ofPoesie. London, 1889.

55. Spenser = Child, The Faery Queene. Bk. i. Boston, 1855.

56. Stevenson = Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and Prince Otto. New York, 1887.

57. SvAft = Morley, A Tale of a Tuh. London, 1889.

58. Thaxikeray = Henry Esmond and Vanity Fair. New York, 1885.

59. Waipole = Yonge, Letters. Vol. i. New York, 1890.

60. Walton = Morley, Lives of Donne, Hooker, Wotton, and Herbert. London, 1888.

61. Whipple = Recollections of Eminent Men. Boston, 1886.

I. HisTORiCAii Development op the Absolute PARTiciPiiE IN Middle English.

In giving his results as to the occurrence of the absolute participle in Anglo-Saxon Callaway says [1. c. p. 51 (3)] :

" Though seemingly frequent in some of the closer Anglo- Saxon translations from the Latin, the absolute participle occurs there chiefly in certain favorite phrases. In the freer translations the absolute participle is less frequent, is found mostly in certain collocations, and, moreover, wavers between an absolute and an attributive use. In the more independ-

252 C. H. R068.

ent literature the absolute participle is practically unkDown. Hence the absolute construction is not an organic idiom of the Anglo-Saxon language."

If this is the condition of the construction in Anglo-Saxon, what is it in Middle English ? A brief examination of the occur- rence of the absolute participle in this latter period will show whether or not it has become an organic idiom of the language.

I divide Middle English into two periods :

1. 1150-1350;

2. 1350-1500.

1. 1150-1350.

The results in this period were so barren that only a small portion of the literature was read. This, however, was repre- sentative.

The Ancren Riwle.

One example of the absolute participle : 306 — ''pe sorie sunfvde thus biset, hwu schal him )?eonne Btonden ? "

St. JiUiana.

One example of the absolute participle :

54, 4 — " Te edie meiden • . . Com baldeliche forS biuoren yeue reue . . . hire nebacheft sehininde,^^ The same construction occurs in the corresponding MS., Bodl. 34.

The other texts of this period — Havelok, King Horny Hamn polcj and Oamelyn-— do not contain a single example of the absolute participle.

2. 1350-1500.

ChaiLcer^s Poems.

Chaucer shows in his poetry a florescence of the absolute participle during the second half of the fourteenth century.

ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 253

But when we consider how much he wrote, what influences dominated him, and how comparatively few examples he fur- nishes of the construction, it will be seen how foreign the idiom was to the Middle English writer.

(a) Present participles (14) :

II. 70 — " Smokyng the temple^ . . .

This Emelye with herte debonaire Hir body wessch." IV. 120 — ^^Sche, this in blake, likynge to Troylus,

Over alle thinge he stode for to beholde.'^ FiL I. XXX. 1 — ^^Piacende questa sotto il nero man to

Oltre ad ogn^ altra a Troilo . . . Mirava di lontano.'' rv. 130 — ^^Biwayllynge in his chaumber thus allone, A frende of his that called was Pandare, Come ones unwar." Fil. II. i. 1 — ^^Standosi in cotal guiaa un di soletto

Nella camera sua Troilo pensosoy Vi sopravvenne un troian giovinetto.'*

rv. 301 — ^^Lyggynge in oost

The Grekes stronge aboute Troye town, Byfel," etc. FU. rv. i. 1 — ^'Tenendo i Oreci la cittade stretta

Con forte assedio ; Ettor . . .

fe' seletta," etc.

Other examples: ii. 237, 300, 302, 311, ra. 69 (2 exs.), 240, rv. 296, v. 233 (2 exs.).

(6) Past participles (15) :

n. 14 — "TAc catise i-knowe,

Anon he yaf the syke man his bote." rv. 305— "TAe cause itolde of hire comynge, the olde

Priam

Let here-upon his parlement to holde."

264 c. H. Roes.

FU. IV. xiii. 3— ''TraUatori :

I quali, al re Priamo, il suo talento

Di88€ro,

. . . onde UD parlamento Di ci6 si tenne."

rv. 337 — ^'Thiae wordes aeyde, she .... Fil gruf.'^

Ml, IV. cvi. 1 — " E questo detto, ricadde supina."

IV. 347 — " She lay as for dede,

Hire eyen throwen upwarde to hir hed.^' FU, IV. cxvii. 7 — "E Troilo guardando nel suo aspetto,

E lei chiamandOy e non sentendo udirsi, E gli occhi suo velati a lei cascante."

V. 56 — " Than wene I that I oughte be that whyght ;

Considered thys," etc. M. vn. liv. 4— " lo

Avrei ragion se di te mi dolesse ; OonsiderandOy^' etc. Other examples : n. 364, iv. 54, 205, 262, 265, 309, 352, V. 160, 310 (2 exs.).

Doubtful examples (9) : ii. 9, 75, 78, 86, 365, m. 124, 136, IV. 54, 209.

ChxiuGer^s Boethius.

Ch, Boeth. 2. 5 — *' I sawh . . a woman hyr eyen brennynge and deer seynge'' = Lai. Bk. i. Pr. 1. 4 — "Visa est mulier . . . oculis ardentibus, et . . . perspicadbus.^^ Other examples (6) : Ch. Boeth. 5. 16 {Lot. Bk. i. Pr. 3. 1), 6. 1 {Lat. Bk. i. Pr. 3), 9. 14 {Lai. Bk. i. Pr. 4), 69. 6 {Lai. Bk. ra. Po. 9. 23), 86. 21 {Lai. Bk. iv. Pr. 1. 35).

In Chaucer's Boethvas there are eight absolute participles, which eight correspond to seven ablatives absolute in the Latin ; in 5. 16 the two participles are synonyn^s. Hence we see that every absolute participle in Chaucer's Boethius is due to an original ablative absolute. In the Latin there are altogether sixty-six ablatives absolute : seven are rendered as above, and

ABS0LT7TE PABTTCIPLE IN ENGLISH. 256

the remaiDder are otherwise used by him. He almost studi- ously avoids the use of the absolute participle.

Chaucer^ B Tale of Mdibeiis.

Ch. Melib. 184 — "He schulde nought be deped a gentil man, that, . . . alle thinges lefty ne doth his diligence to kepe his good name " = Mdib} 225—" H ne doit pas estre dit gen- tils homSy qui ix>iiJte8 avirea choaea arritre miaea, . . . n'a grant diligence de garder sa bonne renommfe." Other example : Ch. Melib. 194 {Melib.^ 233).

Chaucer^ a Peraonea Tale. No example found.

Chauoei^a Aatrolabe. One example occurs : 34.

LanglandPa Viaion.

Three examples are found in the B-text : xni. 280, xvii. 212, XIX. 162. This last example is doubtless due to the ablative absolute in the Vulgate — John, xx. 26.

The Romawd of the Roae.

Only one example :

Romauniy 6123 — " I wole and charge thee,

To telle anoon thy wonyng places, Heryng ech wight thai in thia place ia."

Roman, 11157^ — " Convient-il, .... sans faille.

Que ci tes mansions nous somes Tantost oiana treatoua noa homea.^^

^ Michel's numbering with his error of 600 lines corrected.

266 c. H. ROSS.

Oiana is the same as a preposition here, being equivalent to eoram,

Wyclif'a Prose Works,

In considering the absolute participle in Wyelif a sharp line of distinction must be drawn between his original English works and his translation of the Vulgate. In the former the construction is so rare that not a single example was found in Arnold's first volume ^ ; in the first version of the latter the construction is very common. An examination of its occur- rence in the Grospels shows how very slavish was this translation. Out of the two hundred and seventeen ablatives absolute in these Gospels the Anglo-Saxon translator rendered only sixty- six into the dative absolute. But Wyelif went further than this : in his translation there are one hundred and eighty-eight absolute participles (fifty-three of which are certainly datives absolute) corresponding to one hundred and eighty- seven abla- tives absolute.' It is a noticeable fact that Purvey, in his revision of WycliPs translation only a few years after, did away with almost every absolute participle. Skeat's* remark (p. xi) is eminently just : " Wycliffe's literal translations are somewhat awkward, and are hardly intelligible; whereas Purvey's paraphrases, though less literal, convey just the sense required in the English idiom." One example will suffice to show this :

^ Only one volume of Wjclif was read on account of the extreme scarcity of examples. The same was the case with Pecock.

' Oomparalive TaUe of AhioltUe Participlea in Wydift and the Latin OospeU.

LATIN. WTCLIF.

MaUheWy 64 62

Mark, 46 49

Luke, 65 66

John, 12 12

Total, 187 188

*Skeat,W.W. : Introd. to Forshall and Madden's New Testament of Wycliffe and Purvey. Oxford, 1879.

ABSOLUTE PABTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 257

Mark, i. 32—

VvJgcUe. ^' Vespere autem factOy . . . afferebant ad eum omnes male habentes."

Wyclif. " Forsothe the euenynge maady . . . thei brougbten to him alle faauynge yuel/'

Purvey, " But whanne the euentid vma come/^ etc.

Gower.

Thirteen examples of the absolute participle : i. 27 (2 exs.), 115, 217 ; II. 150, 370 ; m. 62, 200, 260, 287, 339, 358, 363.

MandeuUle.^

Mand. Hall. 2 — " It is the Herte and the myddes of all the World; wytnesaynge the Philoaopherey that seythe thus" = Mand? 1 .25 — " Ceo est luy corps et ly mylieux de tote la terre de monde, et auxi, come dit le philosophe.^^ Other examples (5) : Mand.^ 19.22 {MandJ has finite verb), Mand. Hall. 40 {Mand.* 20.45), Mand.^ 45.25 [Mand. Hall. 91 — Mand? has preposi- tional phrase), Mand. Hall. 234 {Mand.* has finite verb), Mand.^ 121.6 {Mand.* has adverbial predicate). Mand.^ 45.25 is really due to direct influence of the Vulgate or Wyclif 's trans- lation of the same ; cf. John, xx. 26. The same is the case with Langland B. xix. 162 (C. xxii. 167).

Hocdeve.

Thirteen examples of the absohite participle : 24, 59, 87, 110 (2 exs.), 140, 148, 165, 171, 211 (2 exs.), 221, 222.

The Boston Letters, One hundred and eleven examples of the absolute participle.

^ It is now held by scholars that Mandeville was not the translator of the Englbh work that bears his name ; bat for oonvenienoe' sake I shall give his name to this work.

258 C. H. R068.

La Tour-Landry.

Landry * 17 — " Ther was moche speche, mani folic susteninge to take the elder " = Landry * 26 — " Y fut assez parlfi de chas- cune d'elles, et yeut assis qui soustenoient & prandre Painsn^.'' Other examples (2): Landry^ 98 {Landry^ 152), 174 (Lan- diy2 250).

The Story of Constance.

OoTistance^ 246 — ''All thing lefle, he shall putte hymselfe before the kyng of England " = Constance * 47 — " Totes autres choses lessetz, se meit de-u-aunt le Roi dengleterre." Another example : OoTtstance ^ 242 {Constance^ doubtful).

York Mystery Plays. No example of the absolute participle.

James L Two examples of the absolute participle : st. 64.6, 104.1.

Pecock.

Seven examples of the absolute participle in the first volume : 49 (2 exs.), 80, 204 (2 exs.), 242 (2 exs.).

Malory.

Twenty-four examples of the absolute participle: i. 119, 168, 178, 185, 186, 187, 274; ii. 63, 83 (2 exs.), 192, 230, 232 (2 exs.), 276, 346; iii. 29, 128 {Map 153), 143, 248 (2 exs.), 257 (2 exs.), 302.

Foriescue. Two examples of the absolute participle : 108, 136.

ABSOLUTE PABTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 259

Paris and Vienna.

Fifteen examples of the absolute participle : 10, 20, 25, 37, 39, 40, 46, 48, 66, 67, 72, 74 (2 exs.), 75, 81.

BaUada.

Eleven examples of the absolute participle : i. 65, 86, 91 (2 exs.), 181 ; ii. 68 (2 exs.), 104, 223, 301, 385. Three of these — 86, 91 (2) — occur in a ballad of which the date is 1596.

Having gone through the Middle English texts that were read and having noted the occurrence of the absolute participle in them, it is time to seek for the origin and the cause of the development of this construction in Middle English. Before entering upon this discussion, however, it may be best to notice the remarks of Einenkel ^ on the origin of the construction. He says (p. 69) :

'^ Das AE .... eine Nachbildung des lateinischen Ablativus absolutus besass und zwar in seinem absoluten Dativ. Es ware nun von vornherein das Natiirlichste gewesen, wenn die Ent- wickelung der betreffenden ME Formeln von der Basis dieser einheimischen absoluten Construction ausgegangen ware. Ab- gesehen jedoch davon, dass die mil Hiilfe von Participien gebildeten Formeln nur einen kleinen Teil der hier in Frage kommendcn Formelarten darstellen, so spricht zunachst gegen eine Weiterbildung dieses AE absoluten Dativs der Umstand, dass im ME, wo fast unter alien Umstanden der Dativ mit Hulfe der Praposition to aufgelost werden kann, die absolute Construction wol durch after, with, nie aber mit Hiilfe der Praposition to umschrieben wird. Ferner war der AE abso- lute Dativ eine fast ausschliesslich gelehrte Redeform und auch als solche durchaus nicht in so haufigem Gebrauche, dass sie eine langere Lebensdauer hatte haben oder einen tieferen Einfluss auf die Weiterentwickelung der Sprache hatte ausuben kdnnen.

' Einenkel, E. : SlreifxHge dvreh die miUeUng, Syntax. Miinster, 1887.

260 C. H. ROSS.

I

'^ Wir sehen also^ trotz des gewiss starken und nachhaltigen Einflusses des lateinischen Ablativus absolutus^ der einer der- artigen Aenderung zweifellos hinderlich sein musste, ist der AE absolute Dativ dennoch zu Gunsten des Afranz. absoluten Accusatives aufgegeben worden/'

The criticism to be made on Einenkel's statements is that the same rule is applied to the whole of Middle English. On the contrary, it is necessary to divide the period (as I have done in discussing the separate texts) into two parts, in each of which we see different influences at work on the develop- ment of the absolute construction. The first extends to about the middle of the fouVteenth century. In this period, as is seen by the infrequency of occurrence, the construction is prac- tically non-existent, especially in the poetry ; and where it does occur in the prose, it is so sporadic that we must, I think, trace this occurrence not to any influence of Old French, but rather to a survival of the Anglo-Saxon construction. If this is not allowed, then we must trace the construction to a slight I^atin influence that was present in English at the time by reason of the cultivation of Latin literature. The occurrence of the construction is so infrequent that it is almost impossible to find the cause of its origin. French hatl not yet exerted any appreciable influence in this direction ; for, as Lounsbury ^ says (p. 42), " we have .... the singular spectacle of two tongues flourishing side by side in the same country, and yet for cen- turies so utterly distinct and independent, that neither can be said to have exerted much direct appreciable influence upon the other, though in each case the indirect influence was great.'' It is, therefore, safe to conclude that in our first period of Middle English we have an absolute participial construction that is most likely a survival of the Anglo-Saxon dative absolute.*

^Lounsbury, T. R.: History of the English Language, New York, 1879.

' Oallawaj has clearly and conclusively shown that the Anglo-Saxon con- struction was borrowed from the Latin ; hence it seems strange to see this statement in Kellner's recent work {HiaL Outlines of Eng. Syntax, London, 1892, p. 34) : "It is doubtful whether the Absolute Participle in Old Eng-

ABSOLUTE PABTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 261

But when English gained the victory over French not only as the language of the people but also as the language of litera-* ture, a change was effected in the use and occurrence of the absolute construction. The influence of French ^ became per- ceptible, and the construction became more frequent during the second half of the fourteenth century and the whole of the fifteenth century. Its sphere of usefulness was thus expanded. But as in Anglo-Saxon the construction is a stranger, and as yet it has not become an organic idiom of the language. And in the whole range of Middle English literature there are only two monuments in which it may be said to occur somewhat commonly : Chaucer's poems and the Paston Letters. It now remains for me to show that in these the frequency of occurrence of the absolute participle was largely, if not entirely, due to immediate or special foreign influences.

I shall first consider the poems of Chaucer. In all his genuine poems there are twenty-nine clear examples of the absolute par- ticiple, and all these examples can be accounted for as being due to French or Italian influence. Thirteen of these are found in Troylus and Cryseyde, the poem possibly most strongly under Italian influence : six of these are direct or almost direct trans- lations of the corresponding absolute constructions in the Italian, and of the remaining seven four are indirect translations of a favorite Italian expression — " cousiderando.'' It is natural to suppose that the three other examples in the poem are due to Italian influence, as the absolute construction abounds in // FUostrato. The Canterbury Tales, more than twice the length of Troylus and Oryseyde, contain only nine examples, and these

lish and in the other Teutonic dialects is akin to similar constructions in Latin and Greek and thus of Aryan origin, or whether it is only borrowed from Latin." A study of the construction in English since 1150 leads to the belief that it is really a borrowing, directly or indirectly, from Latin during the whole of its history.

' French influence will be more fully treated in the next section.

2

262 G. H. BOBB.

are most likely due to French or Italian influence. This leaves seven examples in the other poems, and these examples are so isolated as to be scarcely felt.

I next take up the three volumes of the PasUm Letters. In these there are one hundred and eleven examples of the abso- lute participle. Sixty-four of these are found in the letters proper where the nearest approach to vernacular English is to be seen. The remaining forty-seven are found in various documents, such as petitions, Sir John Fastolf's will, the account of the Battle of St. Albans, etc., in which the style is involved and the influence of Latin seems prominent. Among the letters are several from a Friar Brackley to various per- sons which show strong traces both of Latin and of French influence. I therefore conclude that nearly one-half of the examples are due to an almost direct influence either of Latin or of French.

Notes, — Several points may be treated of here that cannot properly oome under the regular heads of the work: (1) CaUawaj (1. c. p. 21) mentions that " occasionally the A. S. absolute clause is incorrectly joined to the chief sentence by a coi^unction." This practice is very common in Middle Eng- lish, and the absolute clause is thereby obscured. Four examples of this use occur in Malory alone, and the practice continues down into very recent Eng- lish; as, for example, Loweirs LaUai Literary JSssays, p. 86. (2) In some of the examples cited where the subject of the absolute clause and that of the main clause are in apposition, as in Landry ^ 98, there is doubt as to whether the subordinate clause is really absolute. Possibly many such examples may be like thb from Wyclif : JioAn, xix. 28 — ^^JKeau wilinge . . . that the scripture schulde be fillid, he seith," etc. = Vulgate — " Sciene Jeeiu . . . ut consummaretur Scriptura, dixit," etc. In the poetry (as in Ch, Poems III. 124), the superfluous substantive may be almost always looked on as introduced for the sake of the metre. (3) In such a sentence as " They went away, the one here, the other there," the italicized phrases are to be looked on rather as appositive than absolute. This is borne out by the Old French construction: "Se misent en la forest, li vns cha, et li aiUree la" — Map 22. Here the nominative of the article is used, while the abso- lute case in Old French is the accusative. A Modem English example shows this apposition clearly : " We have two accusatives of slightly diflferent functions : the one indicating the object, , . . the other indicating the result** — Strong, Logeman, and Wheeler : The Hist, of Lang^ p. 281.

▲BS0LT7TE PARTICIPLE IK ENGLISH.

263

Table op Middle English Absolute Participles.

WOBK.

Ancren RvwU

Ballada

Gaxton

Ch. AstroL

Oh. Boeth

Ch. Mdib

Ch. Person

Ch, Poems

Constance^

Forteseiie

Oamelyn

Gower

Hampole

Havelok *

PTC8.

1

11

16

1

8

2

0

29

2

2

0

13

0

0

WOBK.

Hoodeve....

Horn

JamesI,...,

Juliana

Landry^ ... Langland,.

Malory

Mandeville

Paston

Pecock

Romaunl. . WydifPr,, York

Total.,

FTOB.

13 0 2 1 3 3

24 6 111 7 1 0 0

255

II. • The Influence of Old French and Italian on ' THE Middle English Absolute Participle.

Before discussing in general the question of the influence of Old French and Italian, let us examine the texts compared and see how Middle English renders the Old French and Italian absolute participles.

1. Old French.

(a) Le Lai (T Havelok le Danois.

The English author of The Lay of Havelok translated only a few passages with an approach to literalness, and in these only one absolute participle (which is really a preposition) occurs : Havelok^ 1. 218 — "Primerement li fet jurer,

VeiarU sa gent, ei affier.''

264 C. H. R068,

The English paraphrases this passage, and the absolute clause is not rendered.

(6) Histoire de Mellibie.

Mdib} 191 — ^' Nous demandons deliberation, laqiidle eue, nous te conseillerons . . . chose qui sera k ton proufit " = Ch. Mdib, 145 — " We axe deliberaeioun ; and we schul thanne • . . conseile the thing that schal be profytable."

Mdib? J 92 — "O dit^ il s'assist conime tout honteulx" = Ch, Mdib. 146 — "Al schamefast, he sette him doun agayn."

Mdib? 203 — " Tu dois tousjours eslire ce qui est ton proufBt, UnUes autres choses refuses et rabaiues^^ = Ch. Mdib. 158 — " Thou schalt chese the beste, and weyve cUle other thinges."

Melib? 211 — "7a per^cmne destniite, tu scez bien que tes richesses se diviseront en di verses parties " = Ch. Mdib. 168 — " Ye knowe also, that youre richesses mootcn in divers parties be departed."

Mdib.* 232 — " Lors les amis Mellib^e, toiUes choses con- sid^r^ et icdUs dessusdictes mesmes ddib^rSes et examinieSj donndrent conseil de paix faire" = C/i. Mdib. 192 — ^^Whan Mdibeus frendes luidde take here avys and deliberaeioun of the forsayde matier, and hodden examyned iV, . . . they yafe him counsail to have (lees."

In Ch. Melib. there are only two absohite participles, both due to two in the French. In Mdib.* there are eight absolute participles besides the two just mentioned : two of these have really no equivalent, and the remaining six are rendered by finite verbs.

(c) Le Roman de la Rose.

Roman 1689 — " Li diex d' Amors qui, Varc tendu,

A voit toute jor ateiidu A moi porsivre et espier." Romaunt 1715 — " The god of love, wUh bowe bent,

That alle day sette haddo his talent To pursuen and to spien me."

ABSOLUTE PABTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 265

Roman 1892 — '^ Lors est tout maintenaDt venus

Li diex d'Amors les saua menvsJ^ Bomaunt 1928— "The God of Love delyverly

Come lepande to me hastily." In the Bomaunt there is only one absolute participle — a translation simply of the French absolute participle. In the Roman there are only two other examples, both of which are rendered otherwise in the Romaunt,

(d) MandeniUe.

Mand? 79.28 — "Bons dyamantz, qi serablent de colour trouble, eriatal ianuoMre trelw/rd a doile" = Mand. HaU. 167 — "Gode Dyamandes, that ben of trouble Colour. Zahw OriataUe drawethe Colour lyke Oylle.*'

Mand? 143.19—" Vait toutdis goule bale'' = Hand} 143.1 — " It . . . gase all way wUh \e moiUh open.^'

In Mand} and Mand. Hall, there are six examples of the absolute participle, two of which are translations of the French absolute construction (in one case a preposition is the predi- cate), and four of which are rendered from a finite verb or a prepositional clause. Besides the absolute participle in O. F. just mentioned, there are two others in Mand? : one is rendered in Mand, Hall, by a finite verb, and the other by a prepositional phrase.

(e) La Tour-Landry.

Landry^ 6 — "Cfe fait, Ton se puet bien endormir'' [so 129 (not in Eng.)] = Landry^ 5 — " Whanne this is done, thanne ye may slepe the beter."

Landry^ 123 — **Si vint courant Peap^ nv>e^'= Landry^ 78— " He droughe his suerde.''

The Eng. translation is not always literal, and very often, as in this case, it merely paraphrases the original text.

Landry * 134 — " Son yre passie, elle luy puet bien monstrer qu'il avoit tort"=Zxindry* 86 — ^^ Whanne hys yre is passed, she may welle shew unto hym that he had wronge."

266 c. H. BOSS.

Landry * 205 — " Celle . . . saillist au dehors, lea bras tenn diui"= Landry^ 141 — "She comithe forthe with gret ioye and enbraced hym betwene her armea,'^

Landry^ 286 — **Ilz saillirent encontre, lui faiaant grant ioye ''= Landry^ 201 — "They went and met him with gret ioye.^^

In Landry^ there are three absolute participles: two are renderings for a finite verb in the French, and one is rendered from an adjectival phrase in the French. Landry ^ contains six absolute participles : two of these are rendered in English by a finite verb, two by a prepositional phrase, and two are not rendered at all.

(/) Oonatance.

Qmatance * 37 — " Veuz lez lettrea, ia le Roy les lettres riens ne conysoit qil vist de son seal assellez "= Oonatance ^ 243 — " Whan theae letterea were aeen, than the kyng merueled."

In Oonatance ^ are three absolute participles (one doubtful) : one corresponds to an absolute participle in ConaUince^^ a second is rendered from a finite verb in the French, and a third is the translation of a prepositional phrase (?). In Con-- atance^ there is another absolute participle which is rendered by a finite verb in ChnatanceK

(g) La Qxieate del Saint Gh^aal.

In comparing this prose romance of Walter Map* with the corresponding English of Malory, this must be remembered : the Eng. adaptation (it can hardly be called a translation) is an abridged paraphrase, in which Malory very rarely expands Map, but very often abridges the story. For the strict pur- poses of comparison, such a text as this is not good ; but it is valuable in showing what seemingly little influence it had on Malory as regards the absolute construction.

^I follow Mr. Fiimivall in assigning this romance to Map, though I believe the consensus of opinion now is against Map's authorship.

ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 267

Map 77 — " Si se fiert entr* aus, fe glaiue alongid " = Malory 93 — " Then he dressed him toward the twenty men, with his spear in the red." So Map 79 {MaUyi^ 94 — "set his speare"), Map 117 {Mahry 108 — "they put before them their speares").

Map 206 — " Si lor courent sus, les espees traites " = Malory 159 — " They .... with their swords slew them downe right.'*

In Malory there are two absolute participles, one of which corresponds to an absolute participle in Map and the other has no French equivalent. In Map^ besides the one already mentioned, there are seventeen absolute participles : two are rendered in English by a finite verb, two by a prepositional phrase, one by an object of the verb, and twelve have no cor- respondences at all in Malory.

If we can judge from the foregoing statistics, the influence of Old French on the Middle English absolute participle was not great. As we have seen, there seems to have been no appreciable influence before the middle of the fourteenth cen- tury. Besides the regular form of the absolute participle the prepositions that were originally participles, such as except, save, notwithstanding, are very rarely found before 1350. After that time they occur in large numbers, not only in translations but also in the native literature. That the Old French construction did not exercise any very great influence on the Middle English absolute participle, beyond keeping the form alive in the lan- guage and increasing its occurrence, is true for two reasons :

1. The small number of absolute participles that occur in Middle English after 1350. It is true that in all the Old French texts read the absolute participle is strikingly infre- quent, but even the English does not equal the French as r^ards occurrence (Mandeville's work is an exception). Com- pare, for example, the works of Map and Malory.

2. The Old French absolute case is the accusative, and yet during the Middle English period the absolute case changes its form from dative to nominative. There seems, therefore, no influence of Old French here.

268 C. H. ROBS.

Striking and important as was the influence of Old French on the phonology, inflections and vocabulary of Middle Eng- lish, we can see how small it was in this particular feature of the syntax. It increased the occurrence of the absolute parti- ciple and enlarged its scope and meaning, but it failed to hold the form to an oblique case like itself. Probably Nehry's * observation (p. 55) on the occurrence of the absolute participle in Old French will explain, in part at least, this lack of a strong influence of that language on the Middle English abso- lute construction :

^' Im Afz. zeigt sich diese Art des absoluten Accus. am haufigsten in gewissen Formeln des Kanzleistils, wo ebenfalls lateinisch-gelehrter Einfluss sich unstreitig geltcnd machte, oder in Uebersetzungen lateinischer Originale. Die volkstum- lichen Dichtungen scheinen derselben fast ganz zu entbehren ; ebenso geben die hauptsachlichsten geschichtlichen Prosawerke des Afz. nur geringe Ausbeute an hierhergehorigen Citaten."

There is, however, a special kind of Old French influence that deserves consideration. This is the transference into Middle English of French prepositions that were originally absolute participles. Through analogy to these forms Modem English has employed a number of present and a few past participles in almost the same manner. The following is an incomplete list of these words, some of which must be classed as adverbs and conjunctions : According to, admitting, allow- ing, assuming, barring, bating, calling, coming to, conceding, concerning, considering, counting, during, excepting, forgetting, granting, including, judging, laying aside, leaving aside, letting alone, making, making allowance, meaning, notwithstanding, omitting, owing to, passing, pending, providing, putting, reck- oning, regarding, respecting, reversing, saving, seeing that, setting apart (aside), speaking, supposing, taking, talking (fol- lowed by of, about), touching, using, waiving; admitted, ago,

' Nehry, H. : Ueber den Oebrauch des abaoltU, Casus obliquus des aUfranz, Suhstanlivs. Berliner Diss. Berlin, 1882.

ABSOLUTE PABTIOIPLE IN ENGLISH. 269

considered, except, given, out take (out taken or outaken — Mid. Eug.), past, provided, save, set apart (aside).

The origin of these prepositions is thus explained by Cheval- let ^ (p. 365) : " Ces mots ne sont, & proprement parler, que des participes presents. Les cas ot ils sont consid^r& comme propositions sont dus & un usage particulier de notre ancienne langue. Nos pdres pla$aient souvent le participe avant le sub- stantif auquel il se rapporte, dans certaines toumures Squiva- lentes k Tablatif absolu des Latins."

2. Italian.*

Ml. I. vii. 6 — "Ognor la stringean pid di giorno in giorno,

Qmcordi tuUi in un pari volere." Ch. IV. 110— " The citO longe

Assegheden, nygh ten yer er they stente, And in dy verise wise and oon interUe." FU. I. xviii. 1 — ^'Perch^ venuto il vago tempo il quale

Rivede i praJA cPerbetie e difiori,

Li troian padri al Palladio fatale Fer preparar li consueti onori." Ch. rv. 114 — "And so byfel, whan oomen was the tynie

Of Aperil, whan clothed is the mede

The folke of Troye hire observaunces olde, Palladyones feste for to holde."

FiL I. xxxiii. 1 — " E partitosi ognun, tutto soletto

In camera n'andd.''

Ch. IV. 122 — "And when thai he in chaumber loas allony

He down him sette."

^ Chevallet, A. de : Origine et Formation de la Langue Franfaise, 3rd ed. Tome in. Paris, 1858.

* In comparing Chaucer and his original I was very much indebted to Mr. W. M. Rossetti's admirable comparison of Troylus and Oryaeyde and H FUoUralOf published by the Chaucer Society.

270 c. H. Koes.

PrfrarcA, 88th sonnet, 1.13— "lo . . .

. . tremo a mezza state, ardendo il vemoJ^ Ch. IV. 124 — "What is this wonder maladye?

For hete of cold, for cold of hete I dye." Ml. II. xiii. 3 — ^' CMt facendo passano i martirj." Ch. IV. 136 — " So may thi woful tyme seme lesse." M. II. xlix. 8— " Ed ho doglioso

II cuore ancor della sua morte ria, Ed avr6 sempre mentre saro in vita, Tomandomi a memoria ma partita." Ch. IV. 170— " Alias, I woful wreche I

Might he yit ly ve, of me is nought to reche.'* FU. n. Ixviii. 1 — " PartUo Pandar, se ne gi soletta

Nella camera sua Griseida bella." Ch. IV. 177 — " With this he toke his fere, and home he wente ;

Criseyde aros,

. . str^ht into hire closet wente anon.'' Ml. III. xl. 1 — " jRoMi curati imieme i due amantiy

Insieme incominciaro a ragionare."

CA, IV. 282— "Thiseilketwo,

Wha7i that hire hertes wel assured were^ Tho gonne they to spekcn."

Ml. IV. xxxviii. 3 — " O vecchio malvissuto,

Qual fantasia ti mosse

A gire a'Greci essendo tu Troianof" Ch. IV. 313 — " Calkas . . . alias ! what aylede the

To ben a Greke, syn thow ert bom Trojan t *' J^. IV. civ. 4 — " Ma '1 suo m'fe digran lunga maggiore,

Udendo che per me la morte brama." Ch. IV. 336 — " But yet to me his sorwe is muchel more.

Alias, /(w me hath he swich hevynesse." Ml. IV. cxx. 1 — '* Efatio questo, con animo forte

La propria spada del fodero trasse."

ABSOLUTE PABTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 271

Ch. rv. 348 — ^' And efUr this, with sterne and cruel herte,

His swerde anon out of his shethe he twyghte.'^ Ml. IV. clxvii. 7 — " Ciascun, Fun Paltro 8^ rcuxsomandando,

E oosi dipartirsi lagrimando." Ch. IV. 369 — " And to hire grace he gan hym reoomaundeJ' FU. V. xlviii. 7 — " Ver le lor case si son ritomati ;

Troilo dicendo pel cammino." Ch. V. 21 — " And on hire weye they spedden hem to wende ;

Quod TroiluSy^^ etc. Sim. jFW. v. 1. 7 (Chaucer turns it by a finite verb — " he seide "). FU. VI. xxiii. 3—" E qiiedo ddto divent6 vermiglio

Come fuoco nel viso, e lafavella Trenumte alquanto.^' Ch. V. 39 — " And with that worde he gan to wexen rede,

And in his tpeche a litel while he quooke" FU. VII. xi. 7 — " Infine essendo il del tvJUo atellato.

Con Pandar dentro se n' fe ritornato.''

Ch. V. 49 — '• And/er vrUhinne the nyght,

This Troilus gan homewarde for to ride." FU. VII. xiv. 7 — " Fatto gid notte dentro si tornavo." Ch. V. 50—" For which at nyght ....

He wente hym home." -R7. VII. Ixxvii. 2 — " Di giorno in giomo il suo dolor crescea

Mancando la speranzaJ' Ch. V. 59 — " Encressen gan the wo fro day to nyght

Of Troilus

And lessen gan his hope.''

In those parts of the poem translated by Chaucer there occur eight examples of the absolute construction that have no equivalents^ direct or indirect, in Chaucer.

We can draw two conclusions from Chaucer's translation of II Filostrato as far as the absolute construction is concerned :

1. The statistics show that Chaucer was under the domi- nation of the Italian absolute construction in his translation, and to this fact is due the comparatively large number of

272 c. H. BOSS.

examples in this poem. Troylus and Cryseyde contains nearly fifty per cent, of all the absolute participles in Chaucer's poems.

2. It is highly probable that the influence of this Italian construction caused Chaucer to use the absolute participle oflener in his other poems.

The question now arises : Did this Italian absolute construc- tion exercise any influence on the Middle English absolute participle outside of Chaucer? There is no reason for believ- ing that it did, either in changing the case of the absolute participle or in increasing the occurrence of the construction. Long before Chaucer the heterogeneousness of the language had caused the absolute case to b^in to change its form, and if the construction increased in occurrence after Chaucer, this must rather be attributed to the influence of French or Latin. To show how superficially Italian literature touched even Chaucer in a linguistic way, only the fact needs to be cited, that, as regards vocabulary, Chaucer drew only one word directly from Italian. And, as Prof. Skeat * says (p. 296), "after Chaucer's death, the temporary contact with Italian literature was broken." As regards the absolute construction Italian and English are two streams that flow along side by side without mingling. Italian, as being closer to the Latin, shows early the idiom in large numbers, but such is not at once the case with English. Both, however, are alike in showing a shifting of the form of the absolute case from accusative to nominative.

III. Historical Development of the Absolute * Participle in Modern English.

I begin my discussion of the absolute participle in Modem English with the opening of the sixteenth century, and here the remarks of Earle ' on English prose in general at this

1 Skeat, W. W. : Prine^ of English Etymology. 2nd iSeries. Oxford, 1891. ' Earie, J. : English Prose. New York, 1891.

ABSOLUTE PABTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 273

period of the language are especially appropriate. He says (pp. 424-25) :

" The Third great era of our Prose receives its character from that wide diifusion of classical taste through the chan- nels of education^ which was the natural consequence of the Revival of Ancient Learning in the Fifteenth century. . . . It did not take many generations to develop a scholastic Eng- lish prose which stood apart from the type of the Fifteenth century, even while it was built upon it. A learned style within the native language was the new thing that now appeared. In the former era, the learned style was either Latin or French, while English prose was homely and much on a level. This does not mean that there were no shades of gradation — there certainly are such, for instance in the Paston Letters — but that they did not form distinct orders of style — such distinction could only be attained at that time by writing in one of the two scholastic languages. But now within the vernacular itself began to appear a classical, learned, scholastic style; and the full significance of this new inci- dent will not develop itself until we come to the Seventeenth century."

It is interesting to note how exactly the history of the de- velopment of the absolute participle, a classical importation, confirms this general observation in the sixteenth and seven- teenth centuries.

In treating of the development of the absolute participle, Modern English must be divided into two periods :

1. 1500 to 1660;

2. 1660 to the present time.

1. 1500-1660. More. Fifty-eight examples of the absolute participle.

274 C. H. R088.

Scniers,

Though a translation from the French, the first volame of this work contains only ten examples of the absolute participle.

Latimer.

Owing to the homely character of his style, only thirteen examples are found in Latimer.

Gosson. His small treatise contains fourteen examples.

Lyly.

The absolute participle is very common here, about sixty examples being found.

Sidney, Twenty-three examples of the absolute participle.

Lodge, Fifty-eight examples of the absolute participle.

Nashe. Eleven examples in his short pamphlet.

Hooker,

Earle (1. c. p. 425) speaks of " the diction of Hooker, the author most possessed of Latinity ; " and this fact is seen in Hooker's extreme use of the absolute participle. In one hun- dred and twenty-one pages are found one hundred and seven examples.

ABSOLUTE PAfinCIPLE IN ENGLISH. 275

Marprdate.

In the colloquial and vigorous language of these tracts the absolute participle is not common, twenty-seven examples being found.

Ghreene.

In the play read there occurs no example of the absolute participle.

Marlowe. Twenty-three examples of the absolute participle.

Spenser. Only eighteen examples in Book i.^

Shaheapeare.

Fifty-two examples occur in the six plays read, though twenty of these are found in one play : Kirig Hefary IV, Pi. n.

Daniel. Nine examples in his short treatise.

Jonson,

As his Discoveries are written " in a free and easy conversa- tional style " (Minto), they contain only seven examples.

Bacon.

Only eighteen examples of the absolute participle; for Bacon " is neither markedly Latinised nor markedly familiar.^' .

' In (he case of several works in Mod. Eng. want of time prevented a reading of the entire work. However, the portion read was looked on as a sufficient index of the work.

276 C. H. B068.

Browne. Thirty-five examples of the absolute participle.

Milton was peculiarly under the domination of the classi- cal spirit, both in his prose and poetry. His prose contains seventy-four examples, while in his poems are found no less than one hundred and five examples. Many of the latter are in direct imitation of the Latin construction.

Walton.

One hundred and eight examples of the absolute participle.

The peculiar conditions under which the absohite participle occurs in the above-named works of the sixteenth and first half of the seventeenth century — viz. occurring but rarely in certain works, and in others in large numl)ers — show that the form had not become thoroughly naturalized. It limited itself to certain favorite authors where the classical element largely predominated, and was used but sparingly by authors whose style was essentially English.

2. 1660 to the Present Time.

Instead of considering separately the authors read, I group them under the following heads :

(a) Fiction.

(6) Essays and criticism.

(c) History.

(d) Biography.

(e) Autobiography. (/) Letters.

(g) Poetry.

▲B80LUTB PABTIdPLE IN ENGUBH. 277

(a) Action.

This department of literature is the special province of the absolute participle. Nineteen writers were read. In Bunyan occur forty-nine examples^ but this comparatively large num- ber is not surprising when we read the remarks of Minto^ (p. 304) :

" The language is homely, indeed, but it is not the every- day speech of hinds and tinkers ; it is the language of the Church, of the Bible, of Foxe's Book of Martyrs^ and what- ever other literature Bunyan was in the habit of perusing. As for the 'old unpolluted English language,' it needs no microscopical eye to detect in the Pilgrim's Progress a con- siderable sprinkling of vulgar provincialisms, and even of such Latin idioms as are to be found in his favourite old martyrologist Foxe.''

In Swift occur fifty-seven examples of the absolute parti- ciple ; in Fielding, one hundred and seventy-three; in Johnson, only three; in Goldsmith, forty-seven ; in Scott, eighty-eight; in Irving, one hundred and thirty-one ; in Cooper, eighty; in Dickens (two works), three hundred and forty-one ; in Thack- eray (two works), four hundred and three ; in Greorge Eliot, ninety-one ; in Hawthorne, forty-three ; in Hughes, one hun- dred and forty-eight; in Holmes, sixty-seven; in Mitchell, twenty-seven ; in Blackmore, one hundred and seventy-two ; in Miss Murfree, one hundred and twenty-four ; in Stevenson (two works), fifty-nine ; in Miss Rives, seventy-seven.

Of all the above writers Johnson is the only exception to the frequency of the absolute participle. A casual reading has shown that the case is the same in his Idves of the Poets. What, then, explains this infrequency? Possibly Arnold's* remark does (p. xix) : " Johnson himself wrote a prose decidedly modem. The reproach conveyed in the phrase ' Johnsonian

^ Minto, W. : Manwd ofEng, Prose Literature. Boston, 1889. 'Arnold, M. : Pref. to Johnson's Six Chitf Livet. London, 1886u

278 C. H. R068.

English ' must not mislead us. It is aimed at his words, not at his structure. In Johnson's prose the words are often pompous and long, but the structure is always plain and modem." Still, other modern writers of fiction and biography use the absolute participle so freely that it is almost impossible to account for Johnson's failure to employ it. The same state of things is seen later in Macaulay.

(6) E8§ays and criiiciam.

In Dryden are found forty-six examples of the absolute participle ; in Addison, forty-six ; in Burke, fourteen ; in Macaulay, only ten (though the essays read were almost en- tirely narrative); in Arnold, fourteen; in Lowell, sixty-five; in Whipple, twenty-six ; in Ruskin, one hundred and forty (the descriptive character of the work may be the cause of this frequency) ; in Birrell, thirty-two. The narrative element is largely lacking in Arnold, and in Burke there is really no occasion to use the absolute construction.

(c) Sistoi^y,

Naturally in historical composition the absolute participle is comparatively frequent. In Irving occur ninety-nine ex- amples, and in Parkman, sixty-three.

(d) Biography,

In Irving are found thirty-four examples ; in Lewes, ninety- eight; in Forster, seventy-two; in Froude, one hundred and five.

(e) Autobiography,

In this department the absolute ])articiple is even more common than in the preceding. Pepys shows one hundred and eighty-eight examples ; Franklin, one hundred and eighty-

ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IK ENGUBH. 279

three; De Quinoey, twenty-four; Jefferson, one hundred and fifteen.

(J) Letters.

In the colloquial style of this department the absolute par- ticiple is not very common. In Walpole occur twenty-six examples, and in Gray, forty-six.

(g) Poetry.

Poetry shows a marked increase in occurrence over the first period (1500-1660). Dryden contains forty examples; Pope, thirty-three ; Goldsmith, fifteen ; Scott, thirty-two ; Mrs. Browning, one hundred and five; Arnold, forty-six. Pal- grave's Golden Treasury y which contains poems of both periods, shows twenty examples. This indicates that the absolute par- ticiple is not at home in lyric poetry.

The above statistics raise the question. Why does the abso- lute participle appear so uniformly common (with varying d^rees) in nearly every text of the second period ? The answer is, that the Eestoration naturalized it ; for, as Matthew Arnold says (1. c. p. xix), " the Restoration marks the real moment of birth of our modern English prose." And he says further on the same point :

• ^^ Men of lucid and direct mental habit there were, such as Chillingworth, in whom before the Restoration the desire and the commencement of a modern prose show themselves. There were men like Barrow, weighty and powerful, whose mental habit the old prose suited, who continued its forms and locu- tions after the Restoration. But the hour was come for the new prose, and it grew and prevailed. . . . The style is ours by its organism, if not by its phrasing. It is by its organism — an organism opposed to length and involvement, and enabling us to be clear, plain, and short, — ^that English style after the Restoration breaks with the style of the times preceding it, finds the true law of prose, and becomes modem ; becomes, in spite of superficial differences, the style of our own day."

280 O. H. B068.

Having traced the development of the absolute participle in Modem English by means of its occurrence in the works of the most important writers, it is now in place to explain the cause of its frequency in this period. It has been seen that the absolute construction gradually increased in occurrence in certain works of the fifleenth century. Almost with the beginning of the sixteenth century the construction began to take on a new life, so to speak, and the reason of this is not hard to find. The increase in occurrence of the absolute par- ticiple and its general adoption are really due to that move- ment which so powerfully affected English at the beginning of the sixteenth century, viz., the Revival of Learning.

In considering as a whole the development of the absolute participle in Middle and Modern English, we notice three dis- tinct and important influences on this construction :

(1) The influence of Old French that came in fully during the second half of the fourteenth century and that enriched the language with many pre|K)8itions and quasi-prepositions.

(2) Classical influence that came in about the beginning of the sixteenth century and that increased largely the occurrence of the construction.

(3) The influence of the Restoration in finally fixing and naturalizing the construction, in narrowing its domain princi- pally to narration and description, and in giving it to poetry.

Table of Modern English Absolute Participles.

WORK.

Addison

Arnold : Essays. Poems.,

Bacon

Berners ,

Birrell

Blackmore

PARTICrPLES.

46 14 46 18 10 32 172

ABSOLUTE PAJtnOIPLB IN ENOLIBH.

281

WOSK.

•

Browne

Browning, Mre

Banyan

Burke

Cooper

Daniel

De Quinoey

Dickens: David Oopperfield

PickwuA Papers

Dryden: JEaaay

Poems

Geoi^e Eliot

Fielding

Forster

Franklin

Froude

Goldsmith: Vicar

Poems

Gosson

Gray

Greene

Hawthorne

Holmes

Hooker

Hughes

Irving: CMdsmUh

Knickerbocker

Granada.

Jefferson

Johnson

Jonson

Latimer

Lewes

Lodge

Lowell

Lyij

Macaulay

Marlowe

Marprelate

36 106 49 14 80 6

24

103

238

46

40

91

173

72

183

106

47

16

14

46

0

43

67

107

148

34

131

99

116

3

7

13

98

68

66

60

10

23

27

282

\J« H* B068*

WORK.

Milton: Essays

Poems

Mitchell

More

Murfree

Nashe

Palgrave

ParKman

Pepys

Pope

Rives ,

Ruakin

Scott: Ivanhoe

Marmion

Shakespeare

Sidney

Spen^

Stevenson : Dr, Jekyll

Prince Otto

Swift

Thackeray : Henry Esmond,

Vanity Fair.,,.

Walpole

Walton

Whipple

Total

PABTICIFIiEB.

74

106 27 58

124 11 20 63

188 33 77

140 88 32 62 23 18 17 42 57

216

187 26

108 26

4744

IV. The Case op the Absolute Pabticiple in MiDDi^ AND Modern English.

The case of the absohite |)articip]e diiTers with the language. The Sanskrit uses the locative, the Greek the genitive, and the Latin the ablative, while the Teutonic languages use the dative. In Anglo-Saxon " the normal absolute case is tlie dative." In French tlie case is the accusative, and in Italian there is an interchange between the nominative and the accusative. What,

ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 283

then, is the case of the absolute participle in Middle and Mod- ern English ? Obviously, according to history and analogy, it should be oblique in form and signification. But in later Middle English and in Modem English the form at least is nominative. The question, therefore, arises, Has there been a change of signification as well as a change of form ? Before attempting to answer this, let us try to find out when this change of form took place.

In entering upon such an investigation as this we are con- fronted with two difficulties. In the first place, it is impossible to arrive at absolute certainty in r^ard to the question in point until the whole of Middle English literature has been sifled for examples ; but in the nature of things, this could not be done in the limits of time assigned to this work. Again, the only place where we can clearly distinguish the case of the absolute parti- ciple in Middle English is when the participle is used with a pronoun as subject, and in this period very few such examples occur. With these two fiwits clearly in mind, it will be easily seen how hard it is to assign an exact or even a closely approxi- mate date to the change of case of the absolute construction.

As far as I can learn, Morris and Oliphaiit are the only writers that have attempted to assign a date to this change of form. The former ^ says (p. 103) : " In the oldest English the dative wa.s the absolute case, just as the ablative is in Latin. About the middle of the fourteenth century the nominative be- gan to replace it." In speaking of the Cursor Mwndi (a. d. 1290), Oliphant* says (p. 408): "The Participle Absolute had hitherto always been in the dative, and this lasted down to 1400 ; " but notice the following example :

" Mi felaw sraord hir bam in bedd. And si)?en sco laid it priueli, And i slepand in bedd, me bi."

Oursor Mundi, ed. by Morris. EETS., London, 1874. Pt. n., p. 500 (1. 8672).

* Morris, R. : HigtoricaU Outlines of Eng, Aeddenee, London, 1886. >01iphant,T.L.K.: Tke Old and MiddU English. London, 1878.

284 C. H. B068.

So have the Cotton and Fairfax MSS. ; but the Gotdngen and Trinity MSS. have " while I slepte." And in his New EngliA {if 42) Oliphant; speaking of an alliterative poem on Alex- ander (about 1340), says : " There is a new idiom in p. 190 ; they ask Philip to be lord of their land, yd to holden of hym. Here a participle, such as being bou/tidy is dropped after ]>ei; and the nominative replaces the old Dative Absolute." This example must be looked on as a case of the nominative with the infinitive, like examples to which can be found in Chaucer (as, for instance, iv, 127).

From the first two of these statements I draw these results : Morris says that the nominative began to replace the dative about the middle of the fourteenth century ; but it is seen from the example cited from the Oiiraor Mundi that this date is entirely too late. Again, Oliphant says that the dative case of the absolute participle lasted down to 1400 ; but it will be seen from the examples which follow that the dative case con- tinued in use until at least the second quarter of the fifteenth century.

We cannot say with certainty when this change of form began to take place ; but we can decide on a loosely approximate date when this change was finally and thoroughly effected. And in order to do this, let us direct our attention to the few clear exam- ples of the dative and the nominative absolute that occur in the Middle English texts read.

The first example of a nominative absolute that I have been able to find in Middle English, is that cited above from the Oursor Mundi. The next examples found occur in Chaucer. Here we find three examples of the nominative absolute :

" What couthe a stourdy housebonde more devyse

To prove hir wyf hode,

And he contynuyng ever in stourdynesse.'^

II, 300. Sim.^ II, 311.

' Example similar to the one just preceding.

ABSOLUTE PABTIGIPLE IN ENGLISH. 286

" Schcy this in blake, Wcynge to TroilvSy Over alle thinge he stode for to beholde."

IV, 120.

This absolute construction is simply a translation of one in Italian, in which '^ questa " may be taken as a nominative.

That the absolute case had not changed permanently from dative to nominative before the close of the fourteenth century is shown by its use in Langland. In the B-text (a. d. 1377) occurs one example of the dative absolute :

'^ As in aparaille and in porte proude amonges the peple, Otherwyse than he hath with herte or syste shewynge ; Hym wUlynge that alle men wende.'^

I, 402 (B. Passus xm, 280).

The corresponding passage in the C-text (a. d. 1393) (Passus vn, 32) has ^^me tMnynge.'' Gower, however, shows one example of the nom. absol. :

" And she condreigned of Tarquine

To thing, which was ayein her will.

She wolde nought her selven still."

n, 363.

I think " constreiffned" is to be taken as an appositive par- ticiple, and that '^ she '' at the beginning of the third line is really superfluous, being added merely for the sake of the metre. The numerous examples of the dative absolute in Wyclif 's translation of the Bible do not come into consideration here. They were simply, as has been said above, bald translations of the ablatives absolute in the Vulgate, and were in most cases otherwise rendered by the revisers of Wyclif. One example of a nominative absolute, however, has been noted in Wyclif 's translation : in Exodus I, 10, we find, " We overcumen, he go out.'' This isolated example is an additional proof of the fact that the absolute case had changed, or had begun to change, its form before Wyclif made his translation.

286 O. H. B066.

In PaUadius on Huebondrie ^ (aboat A. D. 1420) occurs an example of the nominative absolute :

" Feed stalons fette goth nowe to gentil marys^ Andy ihay replete^ ayein thai goothe to stable ; "

Bk. IV. 780.

But this may be due to the clause being appositive rather than absolute.

In three clear examples* Hoccleve shows both forms. His poem of Jereslaus^a Wife (about a. d. 1421 or '22) contains two examples of the nominative absolute :

"And in hir bed, as shee lay on a nyght, This yonge maide and shee sleepyngefaste, I kilde the chyld." 171.

Sim. 165.

But in How to leaim to die (the date of which is not known) is found this :

" What multitude in yeeres fewe ago, Thee yit lyuynge, han leid been in hir grave ! "

211.

The next instance of a clearly defined absolute case occurs in the Pastoii Letter's under the year 1432. Here we have two datives absolute in the same clause : Paston i, 32 — "That he take in noon of the iiij. knightes ne squyers for the body, without th' advis of my Lord of Bedford, him being in England and him being ouij^ But in the same collection of letters, we find twenty years later (a. d. 1452) the nominative absolute. Under date of April 23, 1 452, John Paston writes to (the Sheriff of Nor- folk ?), and in his letter he says (1. c. i, 232) : " He and v. of his

felachip set upon me and . . my servants,

he smyting at me,"

That this is not an isolated example is shown by the fact that

1 Ed. by B. Lodge. ££TS., London, 1873 and 1879.

ABSOLUTE PABTICIPLE IN ENQTJSH. 287

under the very same date '* Some Gentlemen of Norfolk to (the Sheriff?) " say among other things (1. c. i, 231) : " His High- nesse shuld come in to Norwych or Claxton, toe not beyng in certeyn yet whedyr he shall remeve." From this date on, the nominative is the ease of the absolute participle in the Paston Letlei*8, Under the year 1454 there are two examples, and before 1461 three others, of the nominative absolute.

In Landry^ 174 occurs an example of the nominative abso- lute. But this does not belong to that part of the work made by the unknown translator about 1440 ; it really belongs to Cax ton's translation of 1483-4, parts of which were inserted where there was a break in the earlier translation. The occur- rence also of the dative absolute in Pecock's Repressor (a. d. 1449) — " What euer is doon in an othir mannis name .... {him it miting and not weeming) is doon of him " (ii, 325) — is most likely due to the same cause as are Wyclif's datives abso- lute— direct imitation of the Latin idiom.

Malory (1469) shows eight examples of the nominative absolute, but not a single example of the dative absolute. Paris and J^tennQ, (1485) contains four examples of the nominative absolute and not one of the dative absolute, thus showing that, as regards the form, the change has been thor- oughly made from dative to nominative.

From the above facts I conclude that the change in form of the absolute case from dative to nominative began before the clase of the thirteenth century, and was most likely thoroughly effected during the second quarter of the fifteenth century.

The next question that arises is, What was the cause of this change of form in the absolute case? Various explanations have been offered in the solution of this problem. Probably it will be well to cite a few of these. Guest * says of the cause of the change : " The use indeed of the nominative, .... does not admit of easy explanation. It is unknown to the older and

' Cited by Latham, B. G. : A Hand-book of the English Language, 6th ed. London, 1864 (p. 417).

288 C. H. B068.

purer dialects of our language, and probably ori(pnated in the use of the indeclinable pronoun." Maeizner^ (p. 73) says: '' Aufiallend ist auch der Grebrauch eines Nominativs statt des hier zu erwartenden obliquen Kasus, welcber sicb indessen aua einer Vermischung der im Allgemeinen gleichformig gewor- denen Kasus erklaren mag. Fur den haufiger gewordenen Gebrauch und die Form desselben durfte auch die Einwirkung des Franzosischen nicht ausser Acht zu lassen sein." Bain * (p. 155) has the following note: '^In all probability, the nominative was fixed upon from some random instances, with- out any deliberate consideration." Swinton * (p. 194) says on the change : " The loss of case-inflections has led to the con- founding of the cases, and modern usage requires the nomina- tive case in this construction." Abbott* (p. 275) says in the same strain : ^' In Anglo-Saxon a dative absolute was a com- mon idiom. Hence, even when inflections were discarded, the idiom was retained ; and, indeed, in the case of pronouns, the nominative, as being the normal state of the pronoun, was pre- ferred to its other inflections." Einenkel (1. c p. 70) attributes the change of form to the influence of the Italian :

" Ohne Zweifel sind alle Belege, die in diese specielle Klasse gehdren, als absolute Nominative anzusehen. Sie alle haben das Gremeinsame, dass die absoluten Constructiouen Bcstim- mungen zum Inhalte des Hauptsatzes als einem Ganzen enthal- ten, dass das Priidicat des absoluten Casus ein Participium Praesentis ist und, was ihre Entstchung anbelangt, nicht dem Afranz., dass diese Art der Formel kaum kennt sondern dem Italienischen nachgebildet ist."

" Wenn wir auch einigen Grund haben anzunchmen, dass abgesehen von den stehenden Participialformcln mit veant und oyanty im Afranz. zum mindcsten im Curialstil jene uns feh- lenden mit Participien Praesentis gebildeten absoluten Con-

^VLhe\X£ker,E.: EngliteUOrammaiik. Berlin, 1865. Zw. Theil, zw. Hilfte. ' Bain, A. : A Higher Engli§h Orammar. London, 1876. 'Swinton, W. : A Orammar of the Eng, Lang. New York, 1889. * Abbott, £. A. : A Shakespearian Orammar. London, 1888.

ABSOLUTE PABTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 289

structionen nicht erst mit Commines, sondem schon viel eher in Grebrauch kamen^ als uns die diesen GregeDstand behandelnden Arbeiten zugestehen mogen, so konnen wir doch vor der Hand zageben, dass den betreffenden ME Constmctionen nur italie- nische Vorbilder vorgelegen baben (die Lateinischen kommen des Ablativs wegen gar nicht in Frage). Denn es bedarf doch keiner langwierigen Beweisfiirung, dass in einer so r^l- und ruhelos garenden Sprache^ wie die ME es im 14. Jahrhandert war, eine Formelarten auf langere Zeit hinaas sich nicht ledig- lich dadurch getrennt und selbstandig erhalten konnte, dass sie einer anderen fremden Sprache nachgebildet war bekannt sein konnte, der jene Formelart zuerst anwandte, zuerst nach- bildete, und der sicher selbst Diesem unbekannt geblieben ist, da man in einer Zeit, wo die Philologie im heutigen Sinne des Wortes noch nicht vorhanden war, sich fiber die Herkunft einer Ausd rucks weise nicht die geringsten Gedanken machte und selbst bei Nachbildungen ganz unbewusst verfur." The remarks made above on the influence of Italian on the Mid- die English absolute construction disprove this extreme view of Einenkel.

To the above statements may be added the recent one of Kellner * (p. 125) : " The inflexion having decayed, the dative was mistaken for the nominative."

In his article on *' The Objective Absolute in English " Dr. Bright ' has struck the key-note as to the change of form from dative to nominative: ^'Let us look at the history of the absolute construction in English. We begin with the dative absolute in Anglo-Saxon (in origin a translation of the Latin ablative absolute) ; as inflections break down we come upon the transition or 'crude' type, in which the pronoun remains dative in form while the participle has lost all signs of inflec- tion. But all nouns, as well as the participle, came to lose the inflectional signs of the dative case ; we then obtained the

1 Kellner, L. : Hutorusal OuUineB cf English Syntax. London, 1892. Bright, J. W., in Modem Lang. Noie$, March, 1890, ool. 159-162.

290 C. H. BOSS.

* crude ' type, in which both noun and participle, though abso- lute, were without any trace of inflection. The final act in this history was the admission of the nominative forms of the personal pronouns into this crude absolute construction — a dative absolute in disguise."

The whole matter may be summed up as follows : During the first centuries that followed the Norman Conquest the English language was largely in the hands of the common people, Latin and French being the languages of the church, of the court, and of the higher classes. The result of the language being largely in the hands of ignorant people Was confusion and heterogeneousness. Changes of necessity took place rapidly, and old syntactical constructions were ignored. The absolute ])articiple was almost forgotten, and the remark- able infrequency of the pronouns as subjects of the participle accelerated the confusion. In the nouns the nominative and dative cases were mingled, and this was also the case with the pronouns. Numerous examples occur in Middle English where the nominative was used for the accusative and vice versa; and so it undoubtedly was with the absolute participial construction. Such a state of things finds a parallel in the language of the uneducated of the present day. In the speech of one of the ignorant characters in Richard Malcolm John- stones Widow Guthrie (p. 225), we have both the objective and nominative forms of the absolute construction : " Thev seldom and not always goes together, . . . but a most always sip'rate, them with the moest childem havM the fewest niggerSj and them with a houseful o' childem sometivies havin^ nare nigger. . . . Sallann mout of done it, they crowdin^ in on her so rapid."

A thin! question now presents itself in regard to the abso- lute case : Is the absolute case in later Middle English and Modem English a real nominative ? Most grammarians have in the main agrecil that it is, by speaking of it as the nomina- tive absolute without going more deeply into its meaning. A few, however, have held that it is not a true nominative. Let

ABSOLUTE PABTICIPLE IK ENGLISH. 291

US notice the testimony of the most prominent grammarians on both sides.

Murray ^ (p. 201) speaks thus positively of the case : '^As in the use of the case absolute, the case is, in English, always nominative, the following example is erroneous in making it the objective. ' .... he made as wise . . proverbs, as any body has done since; him only excepted, who was a much greater man. . .' It should be, * he only excepted.' " Fowler* (p. 517) gives the following rule : "A Noun with a Participle, used Independently of the Grammatical construction into which it logically enters, is in the nominative case. . . . This is called the nominative absolute.'' Cobbett,' with his customary independence of speech, makes this statement (p. 118) : ''It appears to me impossible that a Noun^or a Pronoun can exist in a grammatical state without having reference to some verb or preposition, either expressed or understood." In the same way he says (1. c. p. 110) as to the absolute construction : " For want of a little thought, . . . some grammarians have found out 'an absolute case,' as they call it; and Mr. Lindley Mur- ray gives an instance of it in these words : ' Shame being lost, all virtue is lost.' The full meaning of the sentence is this : 'It being, or the state of things being such, that shame is lost, all virtue is lost.' " In endeavoring to do away with the absolute construction, Cobbett simply forms two others. Brown ^ (p. 636) has this rule : *'A Noun or a Pronoun is put absolute in the nominative, when its case depends on no other word."

As far as I can find out, R. 6. Latham was the first to hold that the so-called nominative absolute is not a real nominative. In regard to the case he says (1. c. p. 416) :

"Of the two phrases, him excepted and he excepted, the former is the one which is historically correct. It is also

* Murray, L. : An English Orammar, VoL I. York, 1808. « Fowler, W. C. : Eng. Orcanmar, New York, 1860.

' Cobbett, Wm. : A Oram, of the Eng, Lang, Revised and annotated by Alfred Ayres. New York, 1884.

* Brown, Goold: The Oram, of Eng, Oramman, 6th ed. New York, 1861.

292 c. H. BOSS.

the one which is logioaUy correct. Almost all absolute ex- pressions of this kind have a reference, more or less direct,

to the cause of the action denoted

In the sentence^ he made the bed proverbs of any one, him only excepted, the idea of cause is less plain. Still it exists. The existence of him (t. e. the particular person mentioned as pre- eminent in proverb-making) is the cause or reason why he (f. e. the person spoken of as the second-best proverb-maker) was not the very best of proverb-makers. Now the practice of language in general teaches us this, viz. that where there is no proper Instrumental case, expressive of cause or agency, the Ablative is the case that generally supplies its place; and where there is no Ablative, the Dative. Hence the latins had their Ablative, the Anglo-Saxons their Dative, Absolute. .... In spite, however, both of history and logic, the so- called best authorities are in favour of the use of the Nomina- tive case in the absolute construction."

Dr. Guest ' remarks, on the ** him destroyed " of Milton : " Instead of this dative absolute, modem English writers gen- erally give us the pronoun in the nominative. Bentley, in his edition of the Paradise Lost, corrects this syntax whenever he meets with it : for / extinct, 9. 629 ; thou looking on, 9. 312, etc. ; he reads me. extinct, thee looking on, etc. His criti- cism was no doubt suggested by the laws of Latin grammar, but he would not have ventured upon it, had it not been borne out by contemporary English usage." This last sentence is disproved by the fact that the form prevalent at the time was the nominative absolute. When Milton, Tillotson, and pos- sibly a few others use the dative absolute, it is in direct imita- tion of the Ijatin idiom.

Adams ' follows I^tham in his rejection of the current view as to the case of the absolute participle. He thus defines the construction (p. 197) : '^ A noun or a pronoun and a participle are frequently found in the dative case to mark the time when

1 ated by Latham (1. c. p. 417).

* Adams, £. : The EUments of the Eng. Language. 18th ed. London, 1874.

ABSOLUTE PABnCIPLE IN ENGLISH. 293

au action is performed/' Several examples, such as ^' this said '' and ^^ him destroyed " from Milton and ^' her attendants absent'' from Shakespeare, are next cited, and Adams continues (1. c. p. 178) : *^ These words have no grammatical connexion with the rest of the sentence ; i. e. are not governed by any word or words in the sentence to which they are attached, and are therefore called Datives AbsoluUy or Detached DcUivesJ^ .... The ^^ A. S. dative was the origin of the absolute construction in English. Most grammarians, since the case endings are lost, prefer to call these words nominatives. But the loss of a suffix cannot convert one case into another. The meaning conveyed by these absolute words cannot be expressed by a true nomina- tive" And Adams says further in the same strain (1. c. p. 179) : ^^ In A. S. these absolute words are always in the dative case, but in later English, having lost their case-endings, they are often incorrectly regarded as nominatives."

This view is held also by Schneider,^ whose work appeared shortly after Adams's. In speaking of the dative case he says (1. c. p. 243, § 4. c) : " In einem Satze wie * this done, he retired/ . . . . ist der erstere Satz vom andem unabhangig und losgetrennt. Im Angels, war es ein wirklicher Dativ (dem lat. ^Ablativus absolutus' gleichkommend) : wesshalb man auch jetzt noch einen solchen Satz mit Recht 'Dative Absolute' nennt; Englander soUten diess nie ausser Augen verlieren. Desshalb ist unrichtig zu sagen :

' But, he away, 'tis nobler.' — Shakespeare.

Der Nominativ ' he ' ist falsch."

Maetzner gives (1. c. p. 72 g) simply the current view : " Der Kasus, in welchem gegenwartig das Particip mit seinem Sub- jekte auftritt, ist der Nominativ, wie sich dies klar ergiebt, wo das Subjekt ein Furwort ist, dessen Nominativ sich vom obli- quen Kasus unterscheiden lasst." Koch ' simply says (p. 120), after giving examples of the dat. absol. from Wydif: ^'Dane-

^ Schneider, Q. : Oesch. der eng, Sprache. Freibuig, 1863.

'Koch, G. F.: HitL Oram, der eng. Spruehe, 2 Aafl. Bd. i. Caasel, 187S.

4

294 G. H. B068.

ben tritt der Nominativ ; " and further (1. c. p. 122) : ^^Diescr Nominativ wird nun weiter verwandt/' Bain (1. c. p. 156) also says : '^ The absolute case, or the case of a detached parti- cipial clause, differs in different languages, but grammarians have for the most part agreed that in English it is the nomina- tive Hence, it is com- mon to r^ard as wrong the expression of Tillotson, — ' him only excepted.' " Bain thinks that Adams's points against the cur- rent view are well taken. Abbott adds (1. c. p. 275) to what he says above : " The nominative absolute is much less common with us than in Elizabethan authors ; " a remark that is based on very imperfect observation, for statistics show that the nomi- native absolute is just as plentiful now as it was in Shakes- peare's time.

In drawing a conclusion from his sketch of the evolution of the absolute case as given above, Dr. Bright (1. c. col. 161) thus expresses himself: ^'It is clear that these pronouns (and the relative infrequency of their use in absolute clauses is significant) could not change the character of the construction. The con- clusion is therefore arrived at that the absolute construction in English, despite the use of the nominative forms of the per- sonal pronouns (the same is true of Italian), is historically the objective absolute."

Latham, Adams, Schneider, and Bright have expressed the right view of the real case of the absolute participle in Eng- lish. We have seen how the nominative took the place of the dative, and while it is not held for a moment that we should go back to the older and more correct form, yet it is right to parse the so-called nominative absolute as ^^ a dative absolute in disguise." As Latham has shown, this is correct, both logically and historically. It has also been observed by Dr. Bright (1. c. col. 160-1) that '' the absolute clause expresses an oblique relation — a relation that is chiefly temporal in signifi- cance, and the use of oblique cases for this construction in Greek and Latin is an indication of the true nature of the con- struction in all related languages."

ABSOLUTE PABTIGIPLE IN ENGLISH. 295

In his Latin Orammar (§ 409) Prof. Gilderaleeve says that ^' the Ablative Absolute may be translated by the English Objective Absolute, which is a close equivalent ; " and his use here of the expression " Objective Absolute " is due to the fact that '' he had in mind . . . that English in its period of full inflections had a dative absolute, and in naming its historic survival he aimed at consistency with the terminology of modern English grammar, in which all datives are classed as objectives."

V. The Stylistic Effect op the Absolute Participlb IN Middle and Modern English.

At the close of his dicrertation (pp. 46-61) Callaway gives a short chapter on ^' The Anglo-Saxon Absolute Participle as a Norm of Style/' in which he acknowledges his indebtedness to the article of Prof. Gildersleeve * on " The Stylistic Effect of the Greek Participle.'' The theory of the stylistic effect of the Greek participle is then given, and the writer asks : '^Is the theory likewise applicable to the participle in Anglo-Saxon?" It is difficult to answer this question, because both the abso- lute and appositive participles are comparatively infrequent in Anglo-Saxon, while both are frequent in Latin and Greek. Yet this may be said (1. c. p. 52) : " The stylistic effect of the absolute participle in Anglo-Saxon was much the same as in the classical languages : it gave movement to the sentence ; it made possible flexibility and compactness. But, owing to the artificial position of the absolute construction in Anglo-Saxon, its stylistic value was reduced to a minimum, was indeed scarcely felt at all. The absolute participle rejected as an instrument of style, the Anglo-Saxon had no adequate substi- tute therefor. The two commonest substitutes, the dependent sentence and the co-ordinate clause, as used in Anglo-Saxon^ became unwieldy and monotonous. Brevity and compactness

^Gildenleeye, B. L., in TU Amor. Jour, cfPkil^ ix (1888), pp. 187-157.

296 G. H. B08B.

were impoesible; the sentence was slow in movement and somewhat cumbersome. The language stood in sore need of a more flexible instrument for the notation of subordinate con- ceptions, of such an instrument as the absolute dative seemed capable of becoming but never became." Callaway had also said just before (1. c. p. 50) : '^ The Anglo-Saxon to the last remained practically upon the plane held to-day by New High Grerman. The help needed came only with the gradual de- velopment of the appositive participle ; the introduction of the nominative absolute into Middle English, possibly from the French (sic) (Einenkel, 1. c. p. 74 f.) ; and the rise of the Mod- em English gerund ; when, it seems to us, English was put upon an equal footing with the philometochic Greek."

If this was the condition of things in Anglo-Saxon, what was it in Middle English and what is it in Modem English ? First, let us notice briefly the Middle English domain. Here the same condition of things existed as in Anglo-Saxon. We have seen that up to the last half of the fourteenth century the absolute participle was practically non-existent, whether in prose or poetry. Its prevalence in Chaucer is due largely to Italian influence, in part also to French influence; and the occurrence of the participle in the works of Chaucer's contem- poraries and of the fifteenth century writers is to be traced to the same French influence. But the construction was avoided as much as possible, and in its stead the various shifts that were resorted to in Anglo-Saxon were used. The absolute participle here cannot be spoken of as ^^ a norm of style," for it was in reality an excrescence, and not an inherent quality of the style. Where it existed it gave freedom and movement, but as a con- struction it was scarcely felt at all. During the fifteenth cen- tury, however, just before the awakening caused by the Revival of Learning, the absolute participle became, as we have seen, somewhat prevalent and was more felt in the style. But the great infrequency of the construction in Malory^s Mort ly Arthur ^ a work written under the domination of French literature and a work in which above all others in the same century we should

ABSOLUTE PABTIdPLE IK ENGUBH. 297

naturally expect the oonstruction, shows that the absolute parti- ciple was still foreign to the genius of ihe language.

Secondly^ we treat the Modem English period. Here we find the absolute participle assimilated, developed as a principle of style, and used by nearly all writers. English, in taking up and assimilating into itself the riches of the classical languages, did not neglect this very common idiom. What the poverty of Anglo-Saxon and Middle English fiuled to do, was done by Modem English. At first, the homeliest writers used the con- struction but rarely, but the more classical authors, like Hooker and Milton, crowded their sentences with it, and to their writ- ings Prof. Gildersleeve's criticism (1. c. p. 148) can well apply : '^ The undue multiplication of participles does give an intoxica- tion to style. The finite verb has to be reached through a crowd of circumstances, the logical relations are not clearly expressed, and the play of color in which temporal, causal, conditional, adversative rays mix and cross is maddening.^' Bacon and Ben Jonson are at the other extreme, and we see from these four writers that the construction has not become thoroughly naturalized. This was effected during the last half of the seventeenth century, and during the eighteenth the form was more thoroughly fixed as an inherent element of the style. It was in this condition when the novel became a distinct branch of literature, and with the novelist the constmction has always been exceedingly popular. The fact that some writers use it but rarely, is rather to be explained by something peculiar to those writers than by the refusal of the language of their time to use it. Macaulay uses it rarely ; but, on the other hand, Froude, whose style is strikingly like Macaulay's, uses it with great freedom.

In studying the absolute participle as a norm of style, it is well to notice that it belongs to certain kinds of literature. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries it belonged largely to didactic and philosophical prose, but now its province is dis- tinctively narration and description. In this respect it is like the Greek ; for Prof. Gildersleeve has said (1. c. p. 147) of

298 G. H. R068.

that : ''As the argumentative part of an author is the home of the articular infinitive, so the narrative is the proper sphere of the participle." And also Dr. Spieker,* in his article on "The Grenitive Absolute in the Attic Orators " (p. 320), says on the same point : '' Time is . . . throughout, and naturally so, the reigning relation expressed. This \mng so, we might expect it (i. e. the gen. abs.) more largely in narrations, and we should not be deceived, for where there is much narration there are ordinarily, relatively speaking, a large number of genitives abs." Hence, as the absolute participle occurs in English most largely in narrative and descriptive j)rose, we shall find it occurring most frequently in prose fiction. Next to this stand biography, history, and the essay. As in Greek, so in English, the })ercentage of the occurrence of tlic absolute parti- ciple is greater in narrations than in descriptions. In didactic prose the English of the past two centuries is not much given to the use of the construction, and Dr. Spiekcr shows (1. c. p. 320) that this was the case in Greek : " In didactic prose, where, to be sure, there is to some extent less occasion for it, the percentage is far less, in some few cases indeed none at all ; in such works its use is avoided where it would be possible to have it."

In Anglo-Saxon and Middle English the absolute iiai-ticiple belongs almost entirely to prose. Only two examples of the dative absolute occur in Anglo-Saxon poetry, and in Middle English poetry the construction is very rare. Chaucer, in his somewhat exceptional use of it, simply imitates lioccaccio, in whose poems it is found in large numbers. Gower and Lang- land use it very occasionally. But in Modern English poetry the case is different. In Shakcsix?are and the Elizabethan poets and dramatists, the absolute construction is not common, but in Dryden's i)oetry and tliat of the eighteenth and nine- teenth centuries it often occurs. What is the explanation of this frequency? Probably it is to be found in Earle's remark

»8pieker, E. H., in The Amer. Journal of PhU., vi (1885), pp. 310-343.

ABSOLUTE PABTICIPLE IN ENGLISH. 299

(1. c. p. 461) : "The Eighteenth century is emphatically the century of English Prose. ... So much is prose in posses- sion of the time, that it invades the poetry and governs it. . . . Poetry was simply annexed by Prose." In the disin- clination to use the construction in poetry the earlier periods of English are like Greek. The genitive absolute is not common in Homer, and in the early elegiac poets there are but few examples found — " a &ct due in part to the absence of occasion for the use of the construction, but not altogether. Indeed, there is plenty of room left for its use had it been

fiuniliar Here, as elsewhere, the norm for poetry once

set was adhered to, and though the later prose use influenced the poetry of that period to some extent, we can say that throughout its frequent occurrence was a mark of prose, while poetry preserved in general the limits set by Homer and the early poets, limits that to them were natural.'^ (Spieker.)

Some recent writers have inveighed against the use of the absolute participle. McElroy,* in speaking of the construc- tion, says (p. 105, n. 7) : " Even such forms as Herod being dead, the angel warned Joseph seem rare (sic) in the best recent English." Genung* (p. 116) thus speaks of the participle in composition : " The participial construction is a convenient means of condensation ; it also promotes flexibility of style by obviating the too constant recurrence of principal verbs. Being, however, a subordinated construction, it needs careful adjust- ment to the principal assertion on which it depends." And again (1. c. p. 158) : " The participial construction is a valu- able means of cutting down a clause The use

of a participle with subject not a part of the principal sentence — ^a construction parallel to the Ablative Absolute in Latin — is foreign to the genius of English, and requires caution and moderation."

^ McElroy, J. G. R. : The Structure of English Prose. New York, 1885. * Genung, J. F. : The Fraetieal ElmerUa of Bhdarie, Boston, 1890.

300 C. H. B068.

In oontrast with these pessimistic views of the absolute oon- straction in Modem English style, may be cited the general remark of Diez * (p. 272) : " Vermittelst der Participialcon- struction zieht man mehrfache mit dem Belativpronomen oder mit Conjimctionen fur Zeit und Grund gebildete Satze in ein- fiu^e zusammen. Diese Methode wird in den jQngeren Sprachen &st in demselben Um&nge geubt wie in der lateinischen, so dass die Vemachlassigung derselben den guten Stil verletzen wurde." Dr. Spieker notes (1. c. p. 313) in the same line : ^^ In his treat- ment of the participle, Classen ' deplores the almost utter absence of the Grerman participle, except as an attributive ; an absence which causes Grerman translations to lose in force and beauty, and often makes conceptions inadequate or even utterly wrong. The English language has fared better in this respect, and every English-speaking person acquainted with the Grerman language will agree with him."

As in the classical languages, so in Modern English, the absolute participle gives freedom and variety to the sentence, and it has become an inherent part of the syntax. It is not only used in literature proper, but it is occasionally heard in conversation. It occurs often in extemporaneous prayers and sermons ; though in tliese last provinces of the language its use is largely restricted to set formulae — " all things being equal," "all things considered," etc. Rhetoricians may decry its use, grammarians may remind us that it is an idiom foreign to Eng- lish, and critics may tell us that its occurrence in Modern English literature is very rare ; but, with all these assertions, a careful study of the construction by means of a close reading of all the prominent prose stylists of Modern English shows that the abso- lute participle is used by all writers, and that it has finally become a regular part of the style. It was needed to su])ply a want, and it has done this fully.

*Diez, F.: Oram, der roman. Sprachen, Bd. iii. Bonn, 1876-7. ' In his Beobaehtungen iiber den Bomerischen Spraehgebrauch.

ABSOLUTE PARTICIPLE IK ENGLISH. 301

VI. Results.

The following is a short summary of the results believed to be reached in the preceding pages :

1. In the development of the absolute participle in Middle English, two periods must be distinguished. In the first, which extends from 1150 to 1360, the construction is practically non- existent, and where it does appear, it must be looked on as a survival of the Anglo-Saxon absolute participle, or as a direct imitation of the Latin ablative absolute. In the second, which extends from 1350 to 1500, French influence causes an increase in occurrence, but the construction is still a stranger. In only two monuments, Chaucer's poems and the Paston LetterB^ is it at all common, and this frequency is due to an excess of for- eign influence— of Italian in Chaucer, of classi^_in the Pas- ton Letters.

2. The presence of the absolute participle in Middle English is due almost entirely to Old French influence, though this influence was not great. In the first period of Middle English it was not appreciable, but in the second period it made itself felt by the increased occurrence of the construction and by the importation of prepositions that were formerly absolute parti- ciples. Through analogy to these English has been enriched by many new prepositions and quasi-prepositions derived from par- ticiples. Old French influence, however, was not able to hold the English absolute case to an oblique form like itself. The Italian absolute construction exercised an appreciable influence on Chaucer, but there is no evidence to show that it influenced any other Middle English writer.

3. As r^ards the development of the absolute participle in Modern English we must also distinguish two periods. In the first, which extends, roughly, from 1500 to 1660, the construc- tion occurs but sparingly in writers whose style is simple and English, but is very abundant in writers specially dominated by classical influence. This increase in occurrence is due to the

I

902 C. H. BOEB.

Revival of Learning. In the second period, extending from 1660 to the present time, the construction becomes naturalized under the influence of the Restoration, and takes its place as an inherent part of the syntax. It is given to poetry, and its sphere is largely narrowed to that of narration and description.

4. The case of the absolute participle changed its form in Middle English from dative to nominative. This change b^an to take place before the close of the thirteenth century, and was finally effected during the second quarter of the fifteenth. The reason of this change of form is to be found in the heterogeneous condition of the language in late Anglo-Saxon and early Middle English, by which inflections were leveled and old syntactical distinctions were forgotten. The change was a gradual process, and is not due directly to any foreign influence. The so-called nominative absolute in Modem English is really "a dative abso- lute in disguise." Both by history and logic it is an oblique case, and cannot be expressed by a true nominative.

5. The stylistic effect of the absolute participle in Middle English is about the same as in Anglo-Saxon : where it occurred it gave freedom and movement to the sentence, but its artificial character almost kept it from being felt. In Modem English there is a different condition of things. Here it is an important adjunct to the style, to which it imparts variety and compact- ness. It gives life and movement to the sentence, and is the ready resource of all writers of narration and description for tihe purpose of expressing subordinate conceptions.

Charles Hunter Ross.

VL— ON THE SOURCE OF THE ITALIAN AND ENG- LI8H IDIOMS MEANING 'TO TAKE TIME BY THE forelock; with special REFERENCE TO BOJARDO'S ORLANDO INNAMORATO, BOOK n, CANTOS VII-IX

The central narrative in Bojardo's epic, the Orlando Inna- morato, relates how the appearance of the beautiful Angelica at the court of Charlemagne completely turned the heads of all the noble paladins present, notably Orlando and Rinaldo. These two cousins and brothers-in-arms now become hated rivals, and set out in pursuit of the fair maiden when she returns to her native country. Much time passes before the two knights meet, and when this finally does occur, it is before Albracca, Angelica's castle, where she is besieged by another lover, Agricane, King of Tartary. The meeting is stormy, as was to be foreseen, and a duel is begun which lasts for two days, and which would have ended badly for Rinaldo had not Angelica, who just then is in love with him, held back the blow that would have wounded him mortally. She knows that Rinaldo is safe only if Orlando can be gotten out of the way, and to do this successfully she sends the latter on a perilous and distant expedition. Among the many adventures which he encounters on this journey is the destruction of an enchanted garden which had been fabricated by an enchantress named Falerina. Orlando's impulse is to slay her as well, but his mind is changed when he learns that her death would have as consequence the death of many knights and ladies who are kept prisoners in a tower. In exchange for her life she promises to lead him to that prison (ii-v, 1-24). When they arrive there Orlando sees hanging on a tree beyond the moat the armor of his cousin Rinaldo, and, believing him dead, remorse for his former quarrels with him seizes him, and he rushes over the bridge to engage battle with Aridano, the

303

304 J. E. MATZEE.

guardian of the tower. The two antagonists dutch, and soon roll down the shore into the enchanted lake which surrounds the prison (ii-vii, 32-63). They descend through the water until they arrive on dry ground, a meadow, lighted up by the rays of the sun, that break through the water above them. Here the battle continues, until Orlando succeeds in slaying his enemy. Then he looks about him for a way of escape. He is surrounded on every side by mountainshore and rocks ; but on one side he notices a door cut into the rock, and near that entrance he sees chiselled a picture of the labyrinth and its history with the minotaur, and not far from this another picture, showing a maiden wounded in the breast by a dart of love thrown by a youth. This should have taught him the manner of escape, but he passes on without heeding its mean- ing. Soon he arrives at a river and a narrow bridge, on either side of which stand two iron figures, armed. Beyond it in the plain is placed the treasure of the Fata Morgana. He attempts to cross this bridge, but at every trial the two iron figures demolish it, and a new bridge at once rises in the place of the old one. Finally, with a tremendous leap he clears the river, and now he finds himself near the coveted treasure. After many wonderful incidents, which it is not to the purpose to relate, he arrives near the prison where Kinaldo is held with other knights. This latter, it should be stated, had also left Angelica after his duel with Orlando, and arrived here by a shorter way. As Orlando approaches this prison, he comes to a fissure in the rock, into which he enters, and which leads him to a door. Its cornice bears the following inscription :

Sappi ohe quivi facile ^ rentrata.

Ma il risalir da ]x>I non 6 leggiero,

A cui non prende qnella buona fata,

Che sempre fugge intorno il piano e'l monte,

E dietro 2 oo/va, t^erin ha solo infronU. (ii-yiii, 39.)

The fearless count pays no attention to these words, and passes on. He comes to a flowery meadow, and soon he sees

^TO TAKE TIME BT THE FORELOCK.' 306

a fountain and near it stretched in the grass lies the Fata Mor- gana^ asleep.

Le Bae fttttezse ligoardaTa il conto^ Per non svegliarU e Bta tacitamente ; hd ixJUi i ertnt avea topra taJrcnU, La fticcia lieta mobile e ridente. Sempre a ftiggire area le membra pronte, Poca treocia di dietro, anzi niente ; II yestimento candido e yermiglio Che aempre scappa a cai gli dH di piglia

8e tu non prendi chi ti giace ayante

Prima che la si svegli, o paladino,

Frusterai a'tuoi piedi ambe le piante

Seguendola per sassi e mal cammino,

£ porterai fiatiche e pene tante,

Prima ehetula Ungki per il ertno,

Che sarai riputato un santo in terra,

Se in pace porterai si grave gnerra. (ii-yiii, 43-44.)

This last ottava is spoken to Orlando while he stands look- ing at the sleeping Fata, and when he looks up, to see whence the voice came, he recognizes Dudone but a few steps from him and rushes up to greet him. A transparent wall, how- ever, checks his progress, while at the same time it allows him to see the other prisoners, among whom he recognizes his cousin Rinaldo. He is on the point of breaking this wall with his sword, when a maiden tells him that entrance to the space beyond can only be gained through a gate, which is in sight, and to which Morgana holds the key.

Ma prima si faHL tanto seguire,

Che ti parrebbe ogni pena men grave,

Che seguir quella fata nel diserto,

Con Bperanza fallace e dolor oerto. (ii~yiii-64.)

Now the count hastens back to seize the Fata by the hair, but he is too late.

Qaiyi trovd Morgana che con soglia Danzaya intomo e dansando cantata ;

306 J. £. MATZKE.

Nd piii leggier si move al yento foglia, Gom'ella senza soeta si yoltava, Mirando ora a la terra ed ora al sole, Ed al suo canto nsaya tal parole :

Qoalunqae cerca al mondo aver tesoro, O ver diletto, o segue onore e stato, Ponga la mono a queata ehioma <Foro, Che to par to infronU e lofard beato : Ma quando ha il destro a far ootal layoro, Non prenda indugio, chd '1 tempo passato Piii Don ritoma e non arriva mai, Ed io mi volto, e lui lascio con gnai.

Cost cantava d'iutomo girando La bella fata a qoella fresca fonte : Ma come giunto vide il conte Orlando, Sabitamente rivoltd la fronte. II prato e la fontana abbandonando, Prese il viaggio suo verso di un monte, Qual chiudea la Valletta piccolina : Qnivi fuggendo Morgana cammina.

Oltra quel monte Orlando la seguia,

Chd al tutto di pigliarla d destinato,

Ed, essendole dietro tuttavia,

Si avyide in un deserto esser entrato,

Chd strada non fu mai cotanto ria,

Perd che era sassosa in ogni lato,

Ora alta or bassa d ne le sue confine,

Piena di bronchi e di malvagie spine, (ii-viii, 57-60.)

A storm comes up and adds to the discomfort of our paladin. Here the canto ends.

The next canto opens with the following moralizing strophes :

Odite ed ascoltate il mio consiglio Vol che di corte seguite la traocia : Re a la ventura non date di piglio, Ella si turba e voltavi la faccia : Allor convien tenere alzato il ciglio, Nd si smarrir per fronte che minaccia, E chiudersi le orecchie al dir d'altrui, Servendo sempre e non guardare a cui.

*T0 TAKE TIME BY THE FORELOCK.' 307

A che da yoi fortuna d biaBtemmata, Che la colpa d di lei, ma il danno d vostro. II tempo avviene a noi solo una fiata, Gome al presente nel mio dir yi mostro, Perchd essendo Morgana addormentata Presso a la fonte nel fiorito chioetro, Non Beppe Orlando al dvffo dar di manOf Ed or la segue pel deserto invano.

Then Bojardo continues the narrative.

Con tanta pena e con fatiche tante, Che ad ogni pasBO conyien che si sfom : La fata sempre fugge a Ini davante, A le sue spalle il yento si rinfonfty E la tempesta che sfronda le piante Giii diramando fin sotto la loorza : Fuggon le fiere e il mal tempo le cacda, E par che il del in pioggia si disfaoda.

Ne Paspro monte, e nei yalloni ombroai Condotto d il conte in perigliosi passi : Calano riyi grossi e rainosi, Tirano giii le ripe arbori e sassi, £ per quel boschi oscuri e tenebroei 8'odono alti rumori e gran fracassi, Perd che*l yento e*l tuono e la tempesta Da le radici schianta la foresta.

Pur segue Orlando e fortuna non cura, Chd prender yuol Morgana a la finita ; Ma sempre cresce sua disayyentura. Ecco una dama di una grotta usdta Pallida in facda e magra di figura, Che di color di terra era yestita, Prese un flagello in mano aspero e grosso^ Battendo a s^ le spalle e tutto il dosso.

Piangendo si battea quella taplna, 8i come fosse astretta per sentenza A flagellarsi da sera e mattina : Turbossi il oonte a tal apparisoenza, E domandd chi foese la meschina : Ella rispose : lo son la Penitenza, IVogni diletto e d'allegrezza cassa, E sempre seguo chi yentnra lassa.

308 J. B. ICATZKE.

£ perd Tengo a fuii oompAgnia Poichd lasoiatti MorKaoa nel pralo, £ qaanto dureri la mala yia, Da me nurai battato e flagellato, Nd ti varrik Taidire o vigoria Se non sarai di paiienia armato. Presto riBpoee il figlio di Milone, La paxiensa d paato da poltrone :

Nd ti Tenga talento a farmi oltraggio, Chd paai'ente non aard di oerto; 8e a me fai onta, a te fard dannaggio ; £ ee mi senri ancor n'avrai buon merto : Dioo di acoompagnarmi nel viagg^o DoVio cammino per questo diserto. Coal parlava Orlando, e pur Morgana Da lui tuttavia fugge, e si allontana.

Onde laaciando mezzo 11 ragionare Dietro a la fata si pone a segoire, £ nel Buo oor si afierma a non mancare, Sin che Tinea la prova, o di morire ; Ma I'altra, di cui mo v'ebbi a contare Qaal per compagna s'ebbe a pmfferire, S'acoosta a lui con atti si villani, Che di cucina avrian cacciati i cani.

Perchd giangendo col flagello in mano Soonciamente di dietro lo battia. Forte turbossi il senator romano, £ con mal viso verso lei dicia : Gii non farai, ch'io sia lanto villano, Ch'io tragga contra a te la spada mia Ma se a la treocia ti dono di piglio,

10 ti trarrd di sopra al cielo un miglio.

La dama, come faor di sentimento, Nulla risponde, e d&gli un' altra volta ;

11 oonte, a lei voltato in mal talento, Le mena un pugno a la sinistra golta ; Ma, come g^nnto avesse a mezzo il vento, Ovver nel fumo o ne la nebbia folta, Via paasd il pugno per mezzo la testa, D'un lato a I'altro, e oosa non Tarresta.

'to take time by the forelock/ 309

Ed a lei naoce quel oolpo niente, E aempre intorao il suo flagello mena; Ben si stupisce il conte ne la mente, £, cid vedendo, non lo crede a pena : Ma pur, sendo battuto e d'ira ardente, Raddoppia pugni e calci con piCl lena. Qui sua possanza e forza nulla vale, Come pestasse I'acqua nel mortale.

Poi che buon pezzo ha combattuto invano Con quella dama, cbe un 'ombra sembraya, Lasciolla al fine il cavalier soprano, Chd tuttavia Morgana se ne andava, Onde prese a seguiria a mano a mano : Ora quest' altra gi& non dimorava, Ma col flagello intomo lo ribuffa : Egli si volta e pur con lei s'azznfia.

Ma come Taltra volta, il franco oonte Toccar non puote quella oosa vana, Onde lasciolla ancora e per il monte Si pose al tutto a seguitar Morgana ; Ma sempre dietro con oltraggio ed onte Forte lo batte la dama villana : II conte, che ha provato il fatto a pieno, PiCl non si volta, e va rodendo il freno.

Se a Dio place, dicea, non al demonio Ch'io abbia pauenza, ed io me I'abbia, Ma siami tutto il mondo testimonio, Che io la trangujo con sapor di rabbia. Qual frenesia di mente o quale insonio M' ha' qua giuso oondotto in questa gabbia? Dove entrai io qua dentro, o come e quando ? Son fatto un altro, o sono ancor Orlando?

Cos! diceva, e con molta ruina Sempre seguia Morgana il cavaliero : Fiacca ogni bronco ed ogni mala spina, £ lascia dietro a sd largo il sentiero, Ed a la fata molto si avvicina, E gilt di averla presa d il suo pensiero^ Ma quel pensiero d ben fallace e vano, Perocchd presa, ancor scampa di mano.

310 J. B. HATSOLB.

Oh, qoftnte volte le dette di pif)ift Orm ne'panni ed or ■• fai pRfona, M& il iiiiliuwito, chd bianco e Termiglio^ Ke la spenmia presto Pabbandona I Pur una volta rivolgendo il ciglio, Come Dio Tolae e la Tentura buona, Volgendo il viso qoella fata al oonte. Lttt hen la pre»e al dtigo de la/nmU.

Allor cangiossi il tempo, e I'aria scura Divenne chiara, e il ciel tutto sereno, £ I'aepro monte si fece pianura, £ doTe prima fa di spine pieno, Si ooperse di fiori e di veidmra ; B\ flagellar de Paltra venne meno, La qnal, oon miglior tIbo che non suole, Verso del oonte usava.tal parole :

Attienti, caTaliero, a quella chioma, Che ne la mano hai volta di ventura, £ gusl^a d'aggiostar si ben la soma, Che la non caggia per mala misura. Quando costei par pid quieta e doma, Allor del suo fuggire abbi paura, Chd ben resta gabbato chi le crede, Perchd fermeaza in lei non d, nd fede.

Cos! parld la dama scolorita,

£ dipartissi al fin del ragionare :

A ritrovar sua grotta se n'd gita,

Ove si batte e stassi a lamentare ;

Ma il conte Orlando Taltra avea gremita,

Com' io vi dissi, e senza dimorare,

Or con minaocie, or con parlar soave,

De la prigion domanda a lei la chiave. (ii, ix, 1-20.)

The Fata is now forced to aooede to the demands of Orlando, whoy however, promises in return to leave her one of the prisoners, the young knight Ziliante, with whom the Fata pretends to have fallen in love. She hands him the silver key which is to open the door of the prison. Then they pro- ceed, Orlando

'to take TDCE by the FOBBIiOOK/ 311

Tenmdo al tiuf^ tulUavia Morgana,

Veno il giardino al fin si fu inviato,

£ traTereando la campagna plana,

A Falta porta fu presto arrWato. (ii-ix, 26.)

The prisoners, with the exception of Ziliante, are all liberated, and Bojardo prooeeds to tell the new adventures which soon befell them. Orlando, however, has not yet done with the Fata Morgana. With little foresight he had granted her wish and left Ziliante behind in her power. Now he has to return once more and liberate him as well. He easily finds the way to the fountain where he had met the Fata the first time.

A questa fonte ancor stava Morgana, E Ziliante aTea resuscitato, £ tratto fuor di quella forma strana ; Pid non d drago ed uomo d ritornato; Ma pur, per tema anoor U gioTenetto, Parea smarrito alquanto ne I'aspetto.

La fata pettinava 11 damigello, £ speaso lo baciava con dolcezza : Non fu mai dipintura di pennello, Qual dimostrasse in se tanta yaghezza. Troppo era Ziliante acoorto e bello, Che non parea mortal la sua bellezza, Leggiadro nel yestire e delicato, £ nel parlar cortese e costamato.

Perd prendea la fata alto solaccio Mirando come un speglio quel bel yiso, £ cosl ayendo il gioyenetto in bracdo, Le sembra dimorar nel paradiso. Standosi lieta e non temendo impaccio, Orlando le arriyd sopra improvyiso, £ come quel che I'ayeya proyata, Non perse il tempo come a I'altra fiata.

Ma ne la ginnta did di mano al crino Che syentilaya biondo ne la fronte. Allor la falsa, con yiso yolpino. Con dolci guard! e con parole pronte, Domanda perdonanza al paladino,

312 J. £. HATZEE.

Se mai dupetto gli avea fatto od onte,

£ per ogni fatica, in suo riBtoro,

Promette alte riochezie e gran tesoro. (ii-xiii, 20-2S.)

This time, however, Orlando turns a deaf ear to her entreaties; holding her by the hair with one hand, he leads Ziliante out of the garden, and then, before releasing his hold on her, he makes her swear, by Demogorgone, to whom every Fata is subject, that she will no longer be unfavorable to his projects.

£ perd il conte scongiurd la fata,

Per quel Demogorgon, ch'd suo signore,

La qual rimase tutta spaventata,

£ feoe il giuramento in gran timore.

Fuggl nel fondo, poi che fa lasciata. (ii-xiii, 29.)

The connection between this episode and the Italian expres- sion tener lafortuna pel ciuffo, or pel duffetiOy and its English equivalent to take time by the forelock, is so apparent, that it becomes a pertinent question to inquire into the sources of which Bojardo has made use.

The oldest occurrence in classical antiquity ^ of the notion^ that the golden opportunity must be grasped when it first presents itself, lest, once missed, it escape, never to return, is in a statue by the famous Greek sculptor Lysippus, a contem- porary of Alexander the Great. This statue repi*eseuted the figure of Ka£po9 (opportunity), and Nettlcship and Sandys in their Dictionary of ClcLssical ArUiquUiea call it the first occur- rence of pure allegory in Greek art. The statue itself is lost, but we have a description of it by Callistratus, which was published by Dubner in Paris, 1849. I quote the pertinent passages from this description.

* *E^€\co (TOi Koi TO Avaimrov Brffiiovpyrjfia T<p \6y<p irapa- aTrja-ai, owep dyaXfjMTtav KaWioTOV 6 SrjfjLiovpyo^ Te)(yr)a'd'

* For the sake of completenefis and convenience of reference I print here quite fully the descriptions in )>oint from classical antiquity. A convenient summing up of the whole question may be found in Baumeister, DenkmaUr dt8 Hawiicken AlUrtkwrnM, vol ii, s. v. Kairos.

'to take tike by the fobelock.' 313

fj£vo^ XiKvtavioi^ eh 6iav irpoSOrjKe. Kaipb^ ^v eh arfoXfia rervTroD/Jbivoc ix j(aXKOv irpo^ ttjv <f>va'iv afuWcofiivrf^ t^9 ri'xyrj^' Hat? Se ^v 6 Kaipb^ Tf/3&v iK K€<l>a\rj^ i^ iroSa^ erravO&v to 7^9 ^I3fj^ av6o^. fjv Si rijv fikv Sy^iv &paXo^ cemv lovBov KoX ^€if>vp<ji) Tivdinrecv, irpo^ 8 I3ov\oito, KaraKeiirtav Ttjv KOfifjv averov, rifv re 'xpoav elyev avOrfpi^v t§ \afiirrjSovi Tov atofiaro^ tA av6ri SrfK&v. ijv Se Atovvcip Kork to wXeZ- arov ifM<f>€pi]^ tA /a^i/ yi^p fiertaira jfapiciv ianrCK^ev, al irapeuu he ain^ ei^ avOo^ ipevOofievcu ve(nri<riov dipat^ovro hnfid- WovaaL T0?9 Xfificuriv hiraXov ipvOrjfia, eian^Kei ak hrl rvvo^ a'<f>a[pa^ hr axptov t&v rapc&v ^ep-qKoa^ hrrepwfikvo^ roa iroSe, iireij>vKei ik ah vevo/iicfiivta^ 17 OpZ^, aW* r) fUv ko/itj Korh T&v 6<f>pv(ov e<f>ipirovaa T£M9 irapeiaZ^ eTriceie rbv l3o<rTpvj(pv, TcL Si SiriaOev ^v tov Kcupov irXoKci/Kov ekevOepa fiovf)v Tifv €K yepeaeoD^ pKourrqv hn^aivoma t^9 Tpi/)(p^.

Then the description dwells on the great art shown in the statue and its life-like appearance, and finally the allegory is explained in the following manner :

'koI to fjbkv 'fifuv Oavfia tocovtov ^v, el^ Si Tt9 t&v irepl T€i<; Te'xya^ ao<f>&v Koi elSoTtav ahv alcdT^cei T€j(yLK<aTepa Tit, T&v Srffuovpy&v avi'^yeveiv OavfiaTa Kal Xoytafiov hrrjye r^ Te'Xyi^fuiTLy Tfjv TOV Kcupov Svvafuv ev TJi Tijfvrf (rta^ofjbivrjv e^yovfuvo^' to fikv yiip Trriptafia t&v Tapc&v aivlTTeaOcu Ttjv o^xmyra KaX &^ tov iroXvv aveXiTTtav al&va (l>€p€Tac tcu^ &pai^ i7ro)(pvfievo<;, Ttfv Se iiravBova-av &pav, otl irav evKai- pov TO &p<uov Kal fiovo^ KciXXov^ Srffiiovpyo^ 6 Ktupo^, to Si airrfvOffKo^ airav Ifco 7^9 Kcupov 0v<r6co9» t^i^ Sk Kork tov fi€T(oirov KOfirjv, otl irpoaLOVTO^ fikv avTov XapeaOav pfSiov, irapeXdovTo^ Sk 17 t&v irpayfudTODV aKfii) awe^ipyeTai Koi ovK eoTiv oXiytDpffOevTa Xa/Selv tov xaipov}

^"1 wish to bring before you also in a description the work of Lysippns, which as the finest of images this artist placed on exhibition before the inhabitants of Sicjon. It was Kaip6s fashioned into a statue of bronze, rivalling nature in art. Kaip6s was a boy, blooming in the very flower of youth from head to foot; handsome in mien, his hair fluttering at the caprice of the wind, leaving his locks dishevelled ; with rosy complexion,

314 J. £. HATZKE.

We note the following characteristic features. The statae represents a youth, whose blond hair is falling over his fore- hcatdy while on the back of the head it is so short that it cannot be grasped. This figure stands on its toes on a sphere; its feet are winged.

But little later than this description of Callistratus is the following little epigram by Posidippus, published by Jacobs, Anthobgia Oraeoa^ vol. n, p. 49, No. xiii. Posidippus had evidently also seen the statue himself, and he furnishes us with some further particulars.

T^i, w6B9v 6 vAiUmyr; 2ikv^¥ios, oHwofia 8^ ris;

A^iinrot. 0^ 8^, r(s ; Katphs 6 wayiafidrctp. riwrt d^in^ tucpa fi4firiK€Lf; &c2 rpox^tt. rb Bk rapvobs

woirvlw ^x*" 8<^v«<t ; Tirrc^i* £inyW/iiot. X«pi 9h 8c|ircp^ ri p4ptis ^vp6¥ ; iufipduri BtTyfia

its iucfArjs wdaris 6^^9pos rcA./6«. ^ 9h K6/i'rif ri kut* 6\^iv ; iwaanidtraifTi KafiMcu

¥^ Ala. rk^^i$ty 9*tls rl ^aXtuepii w4\ti ; rhy yitp iwa^ myyoicn iropi $p4^tun'd /it wovtrlp

tfvrit 10* lfA§(p»y ipd^treu 4^6wt$tv,

ihowing bj the splendor of body iU perfection. He was yerj similar to Bacchus; his forehead shone with Krace, and his cheeks, like a flower, glowed in youthful splendor, showing to the eyes a tender blush. He stood on a sphere, resting on the tips of his toes, with winged feet. His hair was not, howeTer, fashioned after the usual manner, but the thick curls fell towards his brow over his cheek, while the occiput of Kaip6s was destitute of hair, showing only the beginning of hairy growth."

"And this it was which seemed admirable to us. But some one of those who are wise and skilled in art, and in the possession of a trained aesthetic sense, and capable of tracing out the hidden meaning of the artist, attributed design to the work, |)ointing out that the idea underlying Kcup6s was brought out in this statue. The winged feet indicate Hwiftness, because time swiftly elapses with the flight of hours; its shown tlie bloom of youth, because the youthful is ever attractive, and xaipSs alone is the creator of beauty. On the other hand, what is withered, is foreign to the nature of Katp6s ; again (it has) the lock on the forehead, because it is easy to seize hold of the favorable moment as it approaches, but having passed by, the opportunity for decisive action is gone, and once neglected it is no longer possible to recover it."

'to take time by the fobelook.' 316

In addition to the information given us by Callistratus, we learn here that the statue held a razor in its right hand, which was intended to indicate the quickness and precision with which opportunity is lost^ if it is not seized.

The next place in classic literature where reference seems to be made to this statue of Lysippus is in the Latin fitbles of Phaedrus^ bk. v^ no. 8. The little poem is entitled

TempuB,

Gunu Tolacri, pendens in novacala CalvuB, comoea fronte, nudo occipitio (Quern 81 oocnpariB, teneaa, elapeum semel Non ip§e poesit Juppiter reprehendere) Oocasionem remm Bignificat brevem. Efiectus impediret ne segnis mora Finxere antiqui talem effigiem Temporis.

Grail, in his edition of Phaedrus, Paris, 1826, vol. ii, p. 267, maintains that the reference here is not to the statue of Lysip- pus. The difficulty lies in the interpretation of the words ^' in novacula pendens,'^ which must mean ^^ standing on a razor/' This opinion is evidently followed by Siebelis in his edition of the same text, Leipzig, 1 874, for he translates ^'eine gefliigelten Laufes auf einem Scheermesser schwebende Grestalt mit kahlem Scheitel." Both editors refer the origin of this new position of

1 ** WhO| whence is thy maker? Sicjon. His name is what? Lysippos. What art thou ? Kairos, the all-subduer. Why doest thou stand on the tips of thy toes ? 1 turn forever. Why hast thou double wings on either foot ? I fly carried by the wind. In thy right hand why earnest thou a razor ? To men a sign that quicker than any edge I am. But thy hair, why is it over the eye? In order to be grasped, forsooth, by him that meets me. The back of thy head, why is it bald ? Because he, whom I have once rushed by with winged feet, will never grasp me afterwards, though he desire it. Why did the artist fashion thee? For thy sake, o stranger, he placed this warning lesson into the doorway."

316 J. E. HATZKE.

the figure to the Greek expression iwl (vpov Xararai axfiSj^^ which occurs as early as Iliad x, 173, and had become a pro- verbial expression, so that it is not unfrequentlj found in later Greek literature. Sophocles, Antigone 996, has carried the figurative meaning of the expression even further, when he uses the phrase " iirl ^vpov rvxn^ I3€l3'nfc€vai.'^ Gail surmised that the statue of Lysippus must often have been imitated, and that some later artist placed the razor which the original figure held in the right hand, under its feet, in place of the sphere. He thinks further that the writer of the little poem in question must have had before him such a figure as he described, either in the shape of a statue or cut into a seal. However this may be, I think for the present purpose these points may without danger be disregarded. The important point, in my opinion, is the fact that here we have in Latin literature a description of a figure, bald behind, with hair streaming over the forehead, which represents '' brevem Occa- sionem rerum.'' A further interesting point to note is the evident confusion which already existed between the two words Tempus and occasio in this special signification. That the con- fusion did not arise at this time is evident from the following passage from Cicero's De Inv., i, chap. 27, quoted by Grail, 1. c., where we read " occasio est pars temporis, habens in se alicujus rei idoneam faciendi aut non faciendi opportunitatem, quare cum tempore hoc difiert ; nam genere quidem utrumque idem esse intell^itur." But in spite of the fact, thus made evident, that the allegory of Lysippus was known in Italy, still no idiomatic expression based upon it seems to have existed. The phrase capere crinea, occurring in Plautus, Mod., I, 3, 69, and cited in Freund, s. v. crinisy has reference to a part of the Roman marriage ceremony; and other expressions such as

^ An UluBtration, reproduced by Baameister, 1. c. p. 771, shows a repro- doctioD of a relief in Torino. It is said to belong to late Roman times, bat is apparently a true illustration of this ancient Greek idiom. The figure is bald, with long hair in front, wings on the shoulders and feet, and holding a scale which rests on the edge of a razor.

^TO TAKE TIME BY THE FQBELOCK/ 317

occasionem caperCy Plaut. Pseud. ly^ 3, 6, are non-committal as to their origin.

The next writer who gives evidence of knowing the alle- gory is the epigrammatist Ausonius. No. xii of the epigrams of this author, in an edition published in London, 1823, reads as follows :

In nmulacnim Oceasionis el PoenUaUiae,

Cdjos opus ? Phidiae : qui signnm Palladoo, ejus

Quique JoTem fecit, tertia palma ego sum.

Sum Dea, quae ran, et paucis Oocasio noU.

Quid rotulae insistis? Stare loco nequea

Quid talaria habes? Volucris sum. Mercurius quae

Fortunare solet, tardo (v. I, trado) ego, cum toIuL

Grine tegis fadem ? Cognosci nolo. Sed heus tu

Occipiti calvo es. Ne tenear fugiens.

Quae tibi juncta comes? Dicat tibi. Dic^ rogo, quae sis.

Sum Dea, cui nomen nee Cicero ipse dedit.

Sum Dea, quae facti, non factique exigo poenas,

Nempe ut poeniteat : sic Metanoea vocor.

Tu modo die, quid agat tecum. Si quando Tolavi,

Haec manet : banc retinent, quos ego praeteriL

Tu quoque, dum rogitas, dum percontando moraris,

Elapeum dices me tibi de manibus.

The literary model of Ausonius we have not far to seek. The dialogue style of this epigram points at once to the poem of Posidippus. But with the many points of contact that exist between the two epigrams, there are found also some marked points of difference. The artist's name is given as Phidias, and the figure of Oocasio is here for the first time accompanied by another, called Poenitentia. It is difficult to decide whether the substitution by Ausonius of the name of Phidias for that of Lysippus is a willful one, as the editor of the epigrams supposes, or whether a link in the chain of trans- mission has been lost. The whole description of Ausonius has about it such an air of reality that it is difficult to believe that he refers directly to the statue described by Posidippus. In- asmuch as the facts in the case are lost, the field is open for

818 J. B. MATOCE.

theories, and I offer the following as a solution of the difficalty. In the epigram of Posidippus there occurs the phrase

oihis W Ifttlpotp ipd^rrat i^imiBw

and then follows an unmistakable invitation to muse over the all^ory. That the statue of Lysippus was a famous one is evident from the different descriptions that were devoted to it, and that it was imitated may be supposed a priori and is proved by the description of Phaedrus. The supposition that Ausonius had before him, when he wrote, some other sculptured version of the allegory would, therefore, seem to be not at all improbable. He did not know this artist's name, but he did know that it was not Lysippus, whose statue and name he must certainly at least have known through the epigram of Posidippus, from whom he borrowed the style of his own poem. He called him Phidias, the Greek sculptor par ex- cellence. The unknown artist, who was a Roman, introduced several changes. In the first place he had translated the Greek Kaipo^ (masc.) into its Latin equivalent occ(i8io (fem.). Lysippus' god became a goddess.^ Phaedrus' model retained the original gender of the Greek, and he called the figure Tempus. In the second place, he had developed the idea contained in the two lines of Posidippus' epigram just quoted, and placed a second figure called Poenitentia beside the first. Such a grouping together of two gods is not at all unfrequent

' The other plate in BaumeiHter's article, quoted ahove, is almoet exactly an illustration of the epigram of Ausonius. It shows the figure of Katp6Sf no longer nude, with a winged wheel on each foot, holding a scale in the left and a razor in the right hand. A youth before him has seized his forelock, while an old man behind him, who has let the favorable moment pass by, stretches his left hand out in vain. With the right he angrily pulls his beard. Behind the latter stands a draped figure, representing Poenitentia. The illustration is a reproduction of a relief in Venice, but unfortunately no clue aK to its age is given.

It should be added, also, that the fact of Ausonius retaining the Greek term Metanoea in a curious manner counterbalances his translation of KMp6s by occassio.

'TO TAKE TIME BY THE FORELOCK.' 319

in Roman ioonologyy and quite to the point I find it stated in Boscher, LexUcon der grieohistAen and romischen Mythologies 8. V. Fortuna, that Fortuna and Mercurius are found together in many pictures, a point to which I shall recur presently for another reason. In this way, it seems to me, the epigram of Ausonius is explained, without doing violence to the facts as we know them.^

The general resemblance between the episode in the Orlando Innamorato and the epigram of Ausonius is so marked that it is evident that Bojardo made use of it as his main source for his description of the Fata Morgana. The most conclusive proof lies in the fact that in both instances the figure of fleets ing Chance is accompanied by that of Poenitenda. This agreement is so striking and unexpected that there scarcely remains room for doubt, and it becomes evident that Bojardo

} For the sake of completenesB I add here another Greek description of (he statue of Lysippas, contained in an eclogue of Himerius, a contemporary of Ausonius. The account agrees in the main with those of Callistratos and Posidippus, with this difference, that the figure is said to hold a scale in the left hand. The eclogue is published in the same volume with the description by Callistratus.

Actfbt 8^ ^v &pa ob X^'P^ ii6vov^ &AA(k kcX yv^iitiv 6 Avcimros, $€ta yovy iKfTvos 9tii rijs iavrov yyi&fArit r9r6\fAi^K€y. iyypd^tt roiM 9ffoit rhp Ktuphp «cal fwpip^as iydX-fiari r^v ^(uriv ainov Zik r^s tMvos i^ifYhtraro. "^x*^ '^ ^'^ vfltfs, its 4fi^ funrifAoyt^fiy, rh BeUBoKfia, TloitT veuZa rh tJdos afiphp, r^v itKfA^y (^fiov, KOfjMtrra fiiy rh 4k Kpord^^ov %ls fi4ronroPf yvfivhy 6h rh tcov iKtlBtv M rh, y&ra fi€pl(€rai' <rt9^py r^v 8c|t(ky &v\i<rfi4pop^ i^V 't^'' \€uhv iirixovra^ wrtparrhv rit cr^vpck, o^x ^' fi€rdp«nov dv^p 7^1 &yct KOv^l(€(r$€Ut &AA* Xya Bok&p iwi^a^fiv rijs 7^1, \ay6dyp K\4irr9ov rh fiij Korii y^s iwtptlBttrBcu.

^* For Lysippus had not only a skilled hand, but albo skilled judgment. Wonderful things did he by reason of this genius venture upon ; he added Keup65 to the list of gods, and by changing images has brought out his nature in a statue. The statue was wrought in this manner as I relate. He fashions a boy, delicate in appearance, in the bloom of youth, with locks of hair from the top to the forehead, but bald behind. In his right hand he was armed with a razor, holding in his left a scale, winged upon a sphere poising lightly, so that he did not rise too far above the earth, seemingly touching it, and yet gliding over it without contact.''

Still more information on this question may be found in Curtius, Archceo- logiseke ZeUung, 1875, pp. 1-8, and Benndorf, ibid., 1863, p. 81 ff.

320 J. E. IfATZKE.

has done here what he has done in so many other instanoes in his poem. He has taken a classic theme and breUonized it, if I may use the term. The whole atmosphere and setting of the new scene is so Arthurian that the first impulse in looking for its sources is to turn for information to the Round Table romances, rather than to a dictionary of classical antiquities.

Morgana (Fr. Morgain) in the Arthurian romances, as is well known, is a fairy and sister of King Arthur. She is a disciple of the enchanter Merlin, and well versed, therefore, in all kinds of magic arts as well as deceit, as Tristan learns in the end to his sorrow. Arthur had even forbidden her pres- ence at his court, and so she lived in different enchanted castles of her making. She was a constant source of trouble to Arthur's knights; but there is, as far as the things told of her in the French romances are concerned, no reason why Bojardo should have selected this name rather than that of the Dama del Lago. There is only one tantalizing allusion in the French prose versions of Tristan, which I will relate without further comment. A knight by the name of Giflet (the name is of no consequence) arrives before a castle which is full of enchant- ments, and he is hindered from entering into it by the figure of a knight, '^de ooivre fait por (r. par) grant soutiliece.'' Morgain, we are told, is the author of the enchantments in the castle, and she established them '^au tens que Tristanz de Loenoys se mist en queste por li trover." ^ Upon reading the description of this metal knight, one cannot help thinking of the two iron figures that hinder Orlando's entrance to the garden of the Fata.

It would seem to me, however, that a reason can be dis- covered for Bojardo's choice of name. The Breton cycle as a whole had gained but little foothold among the people in Italy; but nevertheless a few of its figures had entered the realm of

^ Cp. Loseth, Le Roman en proae de TristaUj p. 223. The painstaking author of this laborious work adds as a foot-note to this passage, " noui n'avons trouv^ aucune trace de cette qu6te."

*TO TAKE TIME BY THE FORELOCK.' 321

popular tradition, and even begun to show new signs of in- dependent growth. Of this class of stories is the miraculous disappearance of Arthur. The French traditions related that Arthur had been transported by Morgain to the island of Avalon, whence he would return in due season. This legend had been carried to Sicily by the Normans, and here the in- terior of Mount Aetna became the abode of both Arthur and Morgain. Graf, who reports the earliest forms of this legend in Sicily, in the Giom, Slor. vol. v, p. 80 ff., shows further, how here this hiding place of the fay is embellished with regard to its scenery. All the attractive features of the isle of Avalon are ascribed to the interior of Mount Aetna. Moreover, the popular mind, once made acquainted with the supernatural powers of the fairy, soon attributed to her authorship that curious optical phenomenon known as the mirage^ and called it the Fata Morgana. And this term, I think, may have suggested the name to Bojardo. I bring this explanation forward without claiming in its favor more than a high degree of probability. It is impossible to say how far back the name Fata Morgana dates as a term for the mirage (Graf, 1. c. p. 98, quotes a passage showing that it was so used in the xviith century), but it bears so popular an aspect that we shall certainly not be far from right if we believe that its origin dates back to the establishment of the tradition which placed both Arthur and Morgain into the Aetna, and this legend is firmly fixed in Sicily by the end of the xiith century.* The official journeys of Bojardo took him into Southern Italy (he was in Naples in the year 1473), and he may well have ob- served the phenomenon in the sky, and become familiar with its popular name.

There is still another line of thought which connects this epi- sode with the Breton epic, and which, therefore, seems worthy of mention. The central idea of it is that of the favorable moment which is not utilized, and which must now be sought

» Cp. Graf, 1. c.

322 J. K. IMTZKB.

with much expenditure of force and penitence. This, after ally looked at from one point of view, is a prominent theme in the quest of the Holy Grail. There the Knight arrives, at nightfall, at a castle, where he sees sights that rouse his curioBitj, such as the wondrous sword, the bleeding lance, and the Grail, for which he ought to demand an explanation. He neglects to do this, and when he wakes up the next morning he finds the castle deserted, and his quest begins. In this instance as well, absolute proof for the association of the two ideas can not be advanced, but, considering the fact that so much of Bojardo's poem is created by brettonizing ideas taken from the Carlo- vingian cycle and from classical antiquity, it is after all very possible that there exists a closer connection between the two ideas than is apparent at first sight.

There can be no question, however, as to the connection between Bojardo's episode and the Italian idiom tener la for- tuna pel ciuffietto; but whether the passage in Bojardo gave rise to the idiom, or vice versa, is not so easily decided. Both words ciuffo and eiuffetto are quite old in Italian. Ciuffb is found in Fazio degli Uberti's DiUamondo (composed between 1348 and 1367) and ciu^o occurs in Dante, /n/., 28-33, Boccac- cio and the PaJtaffio^ which has been wrongly ascribed to Ser Brunette Latini. The question now arises whether the verbal locution ienere pel ciuffeUOy with the meaning to have the mas- tery over, is connected with our idiom. I am inclined to think that this is not the case. Ducange, s. v. capillus, mentions the expression trahere per capUlos, and says that it is described in Saxon laws as a grave insult. In a law of 1211 and 1247 it is given as punishable with death.^ In Italian I have met the expression in Pulci's Morg, Magg., vii-89, Vangel di Dio vi tenga pel eiuffetto and CHrif, Calvan. 2-64, avere il leon pel eiuffetto.

* I am undecided how much Importance is to be attached to the fact that eivffOf a word of Germanic origin, and not the Latin words, haa been incor- porated into the idiom.

'TO TAKE TIME BT THE FORELOCK.' 323

Tie earnest instance of tbe longer iSam under oooeidenH tion I have found noted in the Vooabulario Universale JSaUano compUato a cwra delta sodetd tipografioaj Napoli, 1829, s. v. ciuffo, ascribed to Poliziano, Stance 6.

Piglia il tempo che fugge pel dafietto Prima che nasca qualche gran soepetto.

Unfortunately this reference has proved to be a veritable Fata Morgana in itself, for the most diligent efforts to verify it have proven useless, so that the inevitable conclusion seems to be that a typographical error has crept in. What adds to the dissatisfaction in this instance is the fact tliat other evidence also points to the conclusion that to the learned Poliziano is due the revival of the classical ideas which we have re- viewed. In his Liber Adagiorum (Opera n, p. 289), Erasmus has a rather lengthy disquisition on the expression no9ce tempus. Without mentioning names, he describes the statue of Lysippus, translating, however, continually the Greek Kaipof; by Latin tempiLa. He then goes on to say : '^ Ejus simulachrum ad hunc modum fingebat antiquitas. Volubilis rotae pennatis insistens pedibus, vertigine quam citatissima semet in orbem circumagit, priorc capitis parte capillis hir- suta, posteriore glabra, ut ilia facile prehendi queat, hac nequa- quam. Unde dictum est 'occasionem arripere.' Ad quod erudite simul et eleganter allusit quisquis^ is fuit, qui versicu- lum hunc conscripsit

" Fronte capillata, post est Oocasio caWa."

Then he gives in full the epigram of Posidippus, and a trans- lation of it into Latin distichs. Finally he continues, '^Non ab re fuerit et Ausonianum epigramma subscribere, quod ut admonet Politianus e Graeco videtur effictum quenquam cum aliis nonnullis diversum, tum illo potissimum nomine, quod

'It would be interesting if it were poesible to answer this question of Erasmus.

324 J. £. MATZKE.

hie additur poeniteutia oomes.'^ Then follows the epigram of Ausonius.

The absence of a complete set of the works of Poliziano from Baltimore makes verification in this case also an im- possibility. But in spite of this defect^ the evidence^ it seems to me^ is convincing. Through the influence of the great Poliziano the whole line of tradition which we have reviewed, and which found its climax in Ausonius, was made again the common property of the learned. In this way Bojardo's attention was directed to the allegory, and he was not slow in making use of it by adapting to his own needs not only the figure of Occasio, but also its companion Poenitentia. That Bojardo knew the works of Poliziano needs no proof, but I think direct indebtedness on his part can be shown. In Poliziano's Orfeo (1474), act i, there occurs the line

" Ella (Earidice) fugge da me sempre davante.''

Though applied here to Euridice, there is great temptation to see some hidden reference to the allegory of the lost oppor- tunity. However, this consideration is of minor weight. What is important in my opinion is the fact that Bojardo in the InnamoratOf ii-ix, 3-c, uses almost identically the same words

** La fata sempre fugge a lui daTante."

This coincidence is certainly too close to be accidental.

When the allegory had thus been revived in literature, it was soon made use of in other ways. The famous Milanese engraver, Andrea Alciato, published at various times different collections of emblems. A complete collection of all of these in Latin was published in Lyons in 1551, under the title Andreae AlcicUi EmblemcUum Flumen ahundanSy and of this edition the Holbein society has given us a fac-simile reprint (1871). On p. 133 of this modern edition can be found an emblem entitled In Occasionem, The cut represents the nude figure of a woman, with a long shawl thrown over her

^TO TAKE TIME BY THE FOBELOCE.' 325

shoulders^ which she holds ^n her left hand while it flatters in the wind on the right. She stands on a wheel which rests horizontally on the water. On her feet^ above her heels^ are wings ; the left foot is somewhat raised. In the right hand she holds a razor. Her long hair is fluttering in the wind and appears to be all in front. Below this figure stands the following explanation^ which is evidently a paraphrase of the epigram of Posidippus :

In Oecadonem,

Aia\ayurrtK&s.

Ljsippi hoc opuB est, Hycion cui patria. Ta quia?

Cancta domanB capti temporia articulus.

Cur pinnis stas ? usque rotor. Talaria plantis

Cur retinas? Passim me levis aura rapit.

In dextra est tenuis die unde noTacula ? Acutum

Omni acie hoc signum me magis esse dooet.

Cur in fronte coma? Occurens ut prendar. At heus tu

Die cur pars calva est posterior capitis ?

Ne semel alipedem si quis permittat ahire,

Ne possim apprehenso postmodo crine capi

Tali opifex noe arte, tui causa, edidit hospes

Utque omnes moneam ; pergula aperta tenet.

Of these emblems the first collection seems to have been made in Milan in 1522^ but the earliest partial edition appeared in Augsburg in 1631. Of this last mentioned edition, as well as of three others of similar nature, reprints have been pub- lished by the Holbein society (1870) under the title Andreae Emblematum Fantes Quattuor. From this reprint it is seen that the emblem In Occasionem was contained also in the Augsburg edition of 1531. The cuts in both instances are in general identical. In the earlier drawing, however, the wings on the feet seem to be absent, and the shawl is arranged so as to cover the pudenda. The figure also seems to rest on a rock, sur- rounded by water, in place of the horizontal wheel. But the oociput is bald and the long hair in front is blown towards the 6

326 J. E. MATZKE.

right. The distichs beneath the Ait are identioal with those in the later editions.

Alciato's collection of emblems must have enjoyed a high d^ree of favor. The first complete Latin edition was pub- lished in 1548, and there followed a French translation in 1549^ and Italian and Spanish translations in 1651. There were published besides a large number of partial editions^ and all of these must have contributed greatly to make the allegory generally known. But even earlier our allegory had given rise to the Italian idiom, and we find it occurring under two forms, viz. pigliare il tempo pel duffetto, as in Poliziano, and pigliwe (tenere) lafortwna pel ciuffetto {duffb) as in Ariosto, OrL ESir.y xxx-35.

Ma 86 fortuna le spalle vi volta (Che non perd nel crin presa tenete) Causate un danno ch'a pensarvi solo Mi sento il petto gi& sparar di duolo.

and this latter is also the turn which the all^ory has received in the modem language.^ What is interesting here is the sub- stitution of FortuTui or Tempo for the figure of Occasio. All three denominations, when referring to the favorable moment, are naturally so closely allied that a confusion as to their usage is not at all surprising. Nevertheless it can easily be shown that the confusion did not become fixed as an idiom before the time of Poliziano and the revival of this allegory. The two figures of Fortuna and Occasio were never confused in classi- cal times.

' In Ferrazzi, Bibliografia ArioaUseOf Bassano^ 1881, p. 131, I find the fol- lowing lines quoted from the Satires, vii-181.

Mentre Differendo

Vo I'oocasion fugge sdegnata

Pol che mi porge il crine ed io nol prendo.

Here the tone of the idiom, as is seen, is still quite in accordance with the original classical notion.

'to take time by the FOBEIiOOE/ 327

Fortuna ^ was usually represented by a female figure, stand- ing upright, and holding a cornucopia in the left and a rudder in the right hand. The rudder often rested on a sphere, and this sphere is either the symbol of her changeability, or is in* tended to portray her power over the whole earth. When the figure is seated, the natural inference is, that Fortuna has come to stay. Occasionally a wheel is found in the representations of this goddess, and references to this wheel of fortune can be found in Cicero,* Dicdogvs of Tacitus, Fronto, Ammianus Mar- cellinus,' and the treatise De Oonaolatione of Boethius. In some instances Fortuna has wings, and sometimes the prow of a boat is shown in connection with the rudder, evidently referring to her as a goddess of the sea. She was worshipped in Rome under many different attributes, and there existed temples for some of these varieties and a public worship. Especially favorite was the Fortuna redux, and she is quite frequently represented in connection with a wheel. Roscher describes a coin having a picture of ih^Fortwna dux. The figure is seated, and holds the usual attributes of rudder and cornucopia. Under the stool is the representation of a wheel. The Fortuna worship seems to point to an Egyptian origin, and, according to Roscher, derives from the worship of the Isis Fortuna and the Fortuna Panthea. As Isis Fortuna she is pictured holding a cornucopia, rudder (often with the sphere) and the attributes of Isis, such as the Lotus flower, plumes, new moon, snake, sistrum, etc. The Fortuna Panthea has the symbols of other deities, such as wings, helmet, sheaf of wheat, etc. She was also frequently worshipped in connection with other deities, notably Mercurius. The two figures are found together in many representations, or Fortuna may be found alone with the symbols of Mercurius. This creates a strong temptation for the belief that even in the statue of Lysippus

' Cp. Roscher, Lezikon der ^riMhiKhen, und romUchen Myihologie, b. t. ' Fortanae rotam pertimescebat Piaon, 10, 22.

' Fortunae volucris rota, ad versa prosperis semper altemans. Ammian. Marc^ 31-1-1.

328 J. E. MATZKE.

the wings on the feet of leaipo^ were suggested by those of Hermes.^ However this may be, it is certain that these two deities were for a long time associated together. Even as late as the Emblems of Alciato we find such a representation, which was contained for the first time in an edition of 1641 in Venice. Hermes there appears to have four faces, and is standing on a square stone, with wings on his feet and the winged staff in his hand. Fortuna stands by his side on a sphere, and is almost identical with the figure representing Opportunity, in the emblem In Occasionem, The hair is blowing distinctly towards the right. This picture was considerably changed in the Lyons edition of 1651, but Fortuna and Hermes are still associated together. Here Fortuna is resting but one foot on the sphere, and her hair is blowing toward tlie left.

From the foregoing remarks there can remain no doubt that the wheel is not the r^ular attribute of Fortuna. It rather seems to belong to another idea, which is also closely related to those under discussion, viz., that of the Fata acri- bunda. This goddess is represented by a female figure, resting one foot on a vertical wheel, while she is writing the destiny of man on a wall towards which she is bending. What is evident, however, is the fact that even in classical antiquity the wheel was used to represent the uncertainty of human existence.

The middle ages retained this idea, but varied fundamentally the manner of representation. Fortuna is now represented by a female figure, seated on a stool before a wheel which she is turning. Usually different figures representing different types of humanity are tied to the wheel. Several illustrations in point may be found in Du Sommerard, Les Arts au moyen agey Album. Vol. vi, series 4, plates 37, 38, 39, 40 show large

^ Baumeister, 1. c, says the idea of Kaip6s goes back to the palaestra, and sprang from the Hermes iyay^yiosj beside whom he had an altar in Oljmpia. Presence of mind and the necessitj of grasping the favorable moment in the martial game are eminently necessary, and this god is therefore often mentioned in Pindar's Odes. Baumeister's hypothesis is in a manner con- firmed by the phrase of Himerius fiopp^as iyd\fiara quoted above.

'to take time by the forelock.' 329

illumiDated figures repFesenting Fortuna and her wheel. In all of them she is a young woman seated beside a wheel on which are human figures. She wears long hair and a crown. Vol. vi, series 6, plate 30, taken from a manuscript of the end of the xvth century of Boethius, De Consolationey shows a figure of Fortuna with two faces and the eyes of both blind- folded. This new element evidently denotes favorable and adverse fortune. The figure has green wings besides. Agree- ing with the illustrations first mentioned is a large plate in vol. II of Le8 Arts somptvmres, Paris, 1858. It is taken from a MS. of the xvith century, contained in the Arsenal Library in Paris.

As far as literature is concerned, all allusions before Poli- ziano and Bojardo are usually to this manner of representation. Dante's description of the goddess Fortuna, who rules supreme over her celestial circle and who

Con Taltre prime creature lieta

Volve Baa spera, e beata si gode (Jn/'., vii, 95-96),

is well known. Similar references are found elsewhere and it is not necessary to multiply examples. Pulci in his Mor^ gante Maggiore makes at least seven ^ references to this idea, and of these one merits transcription because it agrees so closely with Dante's conception.

Laada pur volger le volubil rote

A quella che nel ciel tutto ha veduto. (xzii-d8.)

Bojardo, also, has evidently not forgotten the older notion, for Orl. Inn. i-xvi, 1, he says :

Tutte le oose sotto de la Luna L'alta ricchezza, e* regni de la terra, Son sottopoeti a TOglia di Fortuna ; Lei la porta apre d'improv viso e serra ; E quando piii par bianca, divien bruna :

* Morg, Mag.f ii-49, xvii-2, xxii-38, xxv-275, xxvi-38, and x-70, xxiii-54.

'330 J. E. MATZKE.

Ma piii si moetra ai casi de la g^erra

Inatabil, voluianie e rovinoea,

£ piii fallaoe che alcun altra cosa.

Whether he had already in mind our episode, which was to follow some twenty-one cantos later, is a question ; but cer- tainly Fortuna's wheel is but vaguely alluded to by the word vohUante, It would seem as though we had even here a con- fusion of the two ideas.

It is evident, however, from later occurrences in literature, that the confusion became absolute, so much so that the older notion of the favorable occasion was completely lost sight of; and this confusion has also left its traces in art. In the Mtr- TOT of Maieatie (1618), of which we have a fac-simile reprint by the Holbein Society (1870), there may be found a similar reproduction of a work entitled Seledorum Symbolorum Heroi- oorum centuria Oemina enotaia atque enodaia a SaloTnone Netge- bauero a Cadano, 1619. Plate 23 of this last-mentioned work contains the emblem of Fridericus Daniae Norv^iae Seland. Gothor. Bex. It shows a Fortuna standing on a sphere, and this figure is in every respect identical with those drawn by Alciato to represent the favorable Occasion.^

In a similar manner the two notions of Time and Occamon were confused, and substituted one for the other. Here the interchange is much older. I have already pointed out the fact that tempua evidently paraphrases the Greek /caipo^ in the epigram from Phaedrus, and have also quoted Cicero's remark with regard to the confusion of the two terms. It has also been shown that Erasmus translates Katpo^ by tempua. Since early in the middle ages the two notions of Time and Death were also merged in one, one is tempted to look for further evidences of a confusion with the notion of the favorable occa- sion in the pictorial representations of the time. It is certain that some of the illustrations which I have examined show a

^ The inscription of the emblem is ** Fedelt^ d cosa rara/' and below stands the explanation " Fortuna in pila Tolubili stans et velum vibrans . . . ."

'to take time by the pobblookV 331

figure of Time or Death with a distinct lock of hair on one side of the head.^ However^ I do not believe that such instances prove much^ one way or the other. The general appearance of Time or Death in these pictures, with regard to the hair^ i» that of the living species^ and I am inclined to think that the substitution was purely literary and due to a confusion of terms.

The conclusions which^ I think, have been established may now be briefly restated. The revival of the allegory of Lysippus, which seems to have been completely forgotten after Ausonius, was due to Poliziano. Through him Bojardo became acquainted with the epigram of Ausonius, and he brettonized the idea in his episode of the chase of the Fata Morgana by Orlando. The formulating of the idea into an idiom seems also to be due to Poliziano. The oldest instances employ the words tempo and occasione; later Fortuna supplants almost entirely these older words.

The remaining part of this paper is to be concerned with tracing this expression into English. After having found an occurrence of it in Spenser's Sonnet 70 (written aft«r 1593),

Tell her the joyous time will not be Btaid, Unless she do him by the forelock take,

I found that the aid to be expected from the existing diction- aries was exhausted. I then turned for help to the learned editor of the Oxford Dictionaryy Dr. Murray, who with great courtesy and kindness placed at my disposal those references to this expression which he possessed. Through this welcome help I learned that there is but one earlier instance of it to be

^ This can be seen in the following instances : Humphreys, Masterpieees of early prinlerB and engravers, London, 1870 ; plate 20 of a dance of death, printed in Lyons, 1499, and also in several of the illustrations of Saro- narola's " Arte del bene morire," reproduced in the same volume ; also Lang- lois and Pottier, Danaea des Morts, Rouen, 1852, p. 159 and plates xvi and xTiii of Holbein's Dance of Death, in the same volume.

832 J. B. MATZKE.

found in English^ and this in Greene's Menaphon^ written in the year 1589, viz : '^ Pesana, thinking to make hay while the Sunne shined, and take opportnnitie by his forelocks." Besides adding a list of later occurrences, to which I shall refer later. Dr. Murray was kind enough to say, ''we have no earlier instances of Forelock in any sense." To Greene, then, the in- troduction of the idiom into English literature must be ascribed ; and his general tastes and predilections make the supposition very plausible that he derived the expression from his ac- quaintance with Italian literature. Before the year 1692 he had written a comedy entitled Orlando Furio9o, which was published in 1594, and where he quotes several lines from Ariosto's poem in the Italian original ; cp. ed., London, 1831, p. 28. This fact would seem sufficient evidence to prove that the English idiom is a translation of the Italian. As far as Spenser is concerned, the Italian influence on his writings is also too well-known to need further proof, and the great im- portance of Italian influence on the English literature of this period is also well established. The first English translation of Ariosto appeared in 1591, by John Harrington. But in spite of these and many other proofs for the literary importation of our idiom, I am not entirely free from doubts. In the Or- lando Furioso the expression, to my knowledge, occurs but once, and there the reference is to Fortuna, not to Time or Occasion. Whether Bojardo's poem was translated earlier, I am unable to say, though nothing would be gained even if such a translation could be found, for Greene certainly under- stood Italian thoroughly and might have read the poem in the original. However this may have been, the whole allegory contained in the expression must certainly have been known in England at least eighty years earlier. Erasmus was in Italy between the years 1506 and 1509, and during this stay he supervised an edition of his Adagia in Venice at the Aldine press. Then he went to England and occupied the position

> Ed. Arber, London, 1880, p. 66.

^TO TAKE TIME BY THE FORELOCK.' 338

of Regius Reader of Greek in Cambridge from 1509 to 1513. It is but natural to suppose that with Erasmus his works became known in England, and in these Adagia we have found all the principal links in the history of our allegory, besides a reference to Poliziano's remarks on the epigram of Ausonius. With the name of Poliziano, moreover, the possi- bility arises that a knowledge at least of the classical side of the all^ory should have reached England even before the arrival of Erasmus, for Linacre and Qrocyn were pupils of Poliziano. If these suppositions are valid we have also at once an explanation of the fact that in the English expressions it is Time or Opportunity whose forelocks must be grasped, and not Fortuna. Erasmus speaks only of tempua and Poli- ziano of tempo and occasione. So we find the expression in Bacon's Essay on Delays^ publ. Arber, p. 525, " for occasion (as it is in the common verse ^) turneth a bald noddle, after she hath presented her locks in Front and no hold taken." (1625). Crosse, VeHxies OommmweaUh, p. 131 (publ. 1878), wrote in 1603 "Time flyeth away with wings, and therefore a wise man lay holde on her forelocks, while it is to-day." Later references, which might be added, would scarcely strengthen the argument.

At the same time the common middle age notion of Fortuna and her wheel was well known in England. Greene in his Tritameron of Love (1587), publ. in his works, vol. ni, p. 133, in the Huth library, has a long passage to the point here which merits transcription, not for itself, but because it also points directly to Italy as its source.

" Because you talke of painting (quoth the lady Panthia) I remember that in the Duke of Florence chamber, I once saw a table whereon was pourtrayed the picture or counterfeit of Fortune, as neare as I can gesse in this manner. Winged she was, and standing vpon a globe, as decyphering her muta- bilitie : holding in her right hand the Cornucopia or horn of aboundance, which the poets faine to be full of all such heav-

^ Could this be a reference to firasmus' hexameter, quoted above?

334 J. £. MATZKE.

enly and earthlie things as are exauisite and pretious : these she poureth out liberally, when^ to whom, and where she pleaseth. In the left hande a wheele, which she toumeth about con- tinually, whereby that part which is aboue, is presently turned downeward, thereby giuing vs to understana, that from her highest preferment she throweth downe in one instant such as are most happie into the gulfe of miserie: underneath this picture were written certain verses, thus englished

The fickle seat whereon proud Fortune sits, the restless globe whereon the furie stands, Bewraies her fond and farre inconstant fits, the fruitful horn she handleth in her hands, Bids all beware to feare her flattering smiles, that giueth most when most she meaneth guiles. The wheele that turning neuer taketh rest, the top whereof fond worldlings count their blisse, Within a minute makes a blacke exchaunge : and them the vild and lowest better is: Which embleme tels ys the inconstant state, of such as trust to Fortune or to Fate."

It would be exceedingly interesting to know the Italian original of these verses.

We have reached the end of our inquiry. Although certain points remain doubtful, still I think the main questions at issue have been cleared up. There is left the question of the originality or sources of Lysippns. But I have already gone so far out of my beaten track that I may well leave the solu- tion of this matter to others, whose lines of work have made them more familiar with that remote period of antiquity. However, the general inquiry was directly connected with the history of the Homanzo Cavalleresco in Italy, and if other questions have been left unanswered I can give no better excuse than that by which Rusticiano da Pisa, in 1272, excused the lack of order and completeness in his compilation of the Round Table Romances : '^ . . . . je respons que ma mati^re n'ettoit pas congneue. Car je ne puis pas savoir tout ne mcttre toutes mes paroles par ordre.

John E. Matzke.

VII.— LESSING'S RELIGIOUS DEVELOPMENT WITH SPECIAL REFERENCE TO HIS NATHAN

THE WISE.

The primitive purity of the early Church soon yielded to a Church hierarchy. In those early times, before the New Testament was admitted to equal canonical authority with the Old, the Church became the supreme authority and the Bible was subordinate. After the incorporation of the New Testa- ment into the Bible, the Scriptures and the Church appear to be coordinate authority in the patristic writings of that period. During the Middle Ages the Church grew rapidly in political power and the influence of the Scriptures waned accordingly, so that Dante complains of the way in which not merely creeds and fathers but canon law and the decretals were studied instead of the gospels. It is true that pious people, ever since the days of Pentecost, had believed that "the inward spiritual facts of man's religious experience were of infinitely more value than their expression in stereotyped forms recognized by the Church," and that, too, " in such a solemn thing as the forgiveness of sin man could go to God directly without human mediation.'' These pious souls had found the pardon they sought, but the good majority were under the dominion of the Church, which at last degraded the meaning of "spiritual" so that it signified mere ritualistic service, and " thrust itself between God and the worshipper, and proclaimed that no man could draw near to God save through its appointed ways of approach. Confession was to be made to God through the priest ; God spoke pardon only in the priest's absolution. When Luther attacked indulgences in the way he did he struck at the whole system." After the Reformation a reaction set in. New and better translations of the Bible were made, and the Word became accessible to every- body. The successors of the Reformers emphasized "the

335

336 8. PRIMER.

verbal inspiration of the Scripture and its infidlible authority (more) than had been done for the most part by the first Re- formers, Luther and Calvin and their contemporaries, who never seemed to have sanctioned the famous didvm of Chil- lingworth, * the Bible, and the Bible only, is the religion of the Protestants.' '' The Reformers took the Holy Scriptures, because they are the divine word, and require no further sup- plement from tradition and custom, merely as the rule and canon of their faith. Traditions, dogmas, ordinances estab- lished by the Church, were null and void. This freedom of the religious conscience and the Holy Scriptures as the living, pure source of religion brought a rich blessing to Christians. Religion was elevated above that sphere in which mere morality and outer ordinance were the determining principles, and raised man to a new spiritual life. The real motive principle of this new life is justification by faith.

The Bible had now become the norm of faith, but who was to guide the believer in discovering its truth? Was he to be a law unto himself, or should there be a third person, or principle, who should be authority to him ? Here the Re- formers took two courses diametrically opposed to each other. The one party, who did not wish to trust to subjective reason, to human intellect, interpreted the truth contained in the Bible according to the public confessions and symbols of their own Church ; a course not much different from that of the Roman Catholic Church, though granting greater privileges on the whole. Others, without regard to the confessions of faith in their own particular churches, made their own explanation of the Scriptures according to the dictum of their own sub- jective reason, thus endangering the truth as a whole, the real body of religious faith. For only when there is some generally recognized principle which will enable us to deter- mine what truth the Scriptures teach, and to distinguish the true from the false, can the freedom demanded by the Re- formers, independent of every mere outer authority, be brought into unison with the objective divine truth.

LESSING'S NATHAN THE WISE. 337

That truth, however, which gave such an impetus to the religious coDsdence of the Reformers, was wholly lost, or at least much weakcDcd, at the time when they settled the Lutheran doctrines in the Form of Concord (1577). "His successors in the leadership of the Protestant movement elimi- nated all mystical elements out of their theology, and made Lutheranism a system of dry and rigid dogmatics. They gave an excessive value to doctrinal soundness, and underrated the piety of the emotions. Hence a reaction against dogmatism, of which John Arndt and Jacob Spener were moderate repre- sentatives, while Jacob Boehme and Gottfried Arnold were violent and extreme.'' This dogmatism was naturally not at all pleasing to the more devout, and we find mysticism rapidly gaining ground. ^^ In its essential meaning, it is the aspiration to immediate and direct fellowship of the human spirit with God, without the intervention of form, institutions, doctrinal systems, or even intelligent ideas. It dwells on feeling, emotion, ecstacy, as the shortest way to the divine fellowship, and teaches the denial of our wills, even in things innocent, as the true preliminary to this. In theology it finds its anti- thesis in theocracy,' which brings the spirit into divine relations through institutions and laws, and in ' dogmatism,' which seeks to know Grod by the way of the intellect. In the New Testament we find all three elements present, as we find them also in every adequate presentation of Christianity. But in John's writings we have the element the mystics especially valued. And from his time the succession of thinkers of this type is never broken in the history of Chris- tian theology." Later it ** blended Christian teaching with the speculations of the Neoplatonist philosophy, teaching that the highest blessedness is found in the fellowship with the Divine Unity, and this is attainable by passing through the three stages of purification, illumination, and union." But mysticism was too deep for the unspeculative mind, and soon shaded off into Pietism. The latter brought back the subjec- tive introspection which is truly the living principle of the

338 8. PRIMER.

religious life. The origin of the pietistic movement was in the defects of the Lutheran Church '' which in the 17th cen- tury had become a creed-bound theological and sacramentarian institution which orthodox theologians ruled with almost the absolutism of the papacy. Correctness of creed had taken the place of deep religious feeling and purity of life. Chris- tian faith had been dismissed from its seat in the heart, where Luther had placed it, to the cold region of the intellect. The dogmatic formularies of the Lutheran Church had usurped the position which Luther himself had assigned to the Bible alone, and, as a consequence, they only were studied and preached, while the Bible was neglected in the family, the study, the pulpit and the university.'^ Thus the Church had again become a despotic hierarchy. Jacob Spener was at the head of the movement which proposed a return to the Bible and to a more practical and primitive Christianity.

Pietism, which strove to give pious feeling its due rights, found its greatest op])osition in the dominant orthodoxy of the day. But the real attack on the Lutheran faith came from a quarter hitherto little heeded, and with weapons which had not been used for a long time. It threatened to subvert the entire fabric. Reason in religion was the mighty force which now came to the front and began that destructive Biblical criticism which is still raging. The authority which the Re- formers, when contesting the infallibility of the Church, had placed in the Holy Scriptures, had yielded to that criticism which subjected the Bible to the same tests as were applied to classic authors. The conscience became indifferent to i*eligion, and the decision in regard to truth was left to subjective caprice, a very unsafe guide. Soon the spirit of reason in religion appeared on the field of philosophy and caused an actual breach between the faith of the Church and the pre- tended pure ideal of reason. As early as the sixteenth cen- tury a movement had begun which was destined to lead to this result. ^'Faustus Socinus, an Italian theologian of the sixteenth century, denied the Trinity, the deity of Christ, the

LESSINO'S NATHAN THE WISE. 339

personality of the Devil, the native and total depravity of man, the vicarious atonement, and the eternity of future punishment'^ In the last decade of the same century lived Descartes (1596-1650), and in the following century Spinoza (1632-1677), Bayle (1647-1706), Leibnitz (1646-1716), Thomasius (1655-1728), Wolff (1679-1754), all of whom had contributed by their philosophies to inaugurate the so- called Age of Enlightenment. The Socinians were followed by the English Deists, or Free-thinkers, as they were usually called. In England the germ of this wide-spread intellectual revolution first came to maturity. "By the great discoveries of Newton, and the completely conceivable experimental phi- losophy of Locke, new life was awakened. The fall of the Stuarts and the excellent constitution with that religion of reason called Deism helped the new era." The Deists appeared in England toward the end of the seventeenth cen- tury, then spread to France and finally to Grermany, They '^ declared that those ideas only were essential which were found in the so-called natural theology, forming a striking contrast to those doctrines of the straight-out Lutherans.'^ Reason became the norm by which the truth of revelation was to be judged.

Spinoza contested inspiration : miracles and prophecies fell away. Whoever found Spinoza's decisive way too harsh turned to the great dictionary of Bayle and the writings of Leclerc, Basnage, Bernard. Belief became doubt, doubt rationalism. The bonds of the narrow point of view were rent asunder by the free intellect of a general civilization. Freedom of conscience and religious tolerance became the highest moral demand.

Leibnitz may justly be considered the father of German philosophy, as he is among the first of the German philoso- phers who created for himself a comprehensive philosophical conception of the world. But we can give the best summary of him with Wolff.

Two men appear in Germany at this time as forerunners of Lessing, Christian Thomasius, and Christian Wolff, both

340 8. PBDfER.

already mentioned above. We must necessarily consider their influence in order to follow understandingly the religious discussions of our author. Thomasius was a pioneer and helped to prepare the way for reforms in philosophy, law, literature, social life and theology. He had a faculty for bringing the divine and human sciences into close and living contact with every-day life. He took a rational, common- sense point of view of everything and has been well called " the |)ersonified spirit of illumanism." He helped to free politics and jurisprudence from the control of theology and fought bravely and consistently for freedom of thought and speech on religious matters. "In theology he was not a naturalist or deist, but a believer in the necessity of a revealed religion for salvation. He felt strongly the influence of the Pietists at times, particularly Spener, and there was a mystic vein in his thought ; but other elements of his nature were too powerful to allow him to attach himself finally to that party." He was the leader of the school of eclecticism and sought to cull the best from sensualism, idealism, skepticism and mysticism, and rose above tradition and authority. Such a man could not but have a strong influence in clearing up the religious sky of its dogmatic and skeptical positivism. Christian Wolff was a philosopher of the Leibnitzian school and held undis- puted sway in Germany till he was displaced by Kant. He modified, methodized, and reduced to dogmatic form the thoughts of the great Leibnitz, but watered and weakened them in the process. His real merits are " mainly his com- prehensive view of philosophy, as embracing in its survey the whole field of human knowledge, his insistence everywhere on clear and methodic exposition, and his confidence in the power

of reason to reduce all subjects to this form Wolff's

moral principle was the realization of human perfection." The German theological rationalism found its chief supporters in Leibnitz and Wolff, but was also enriched by the English Deists and Moralists, though in Germany we do not find that hard skepticism of the English freethinkers, nor the flippant

LESSINO'S NATHAN THE WISE. 341

wit and mockery of the French. Here there was an effort on the part of German scholarship to test thoroughly the under- lying principles of the various beliefs, sifl the good from the bad, and elevate the moral standard. The dear and sensible doctrine of morality which was proclaimed by the rationalists and the moral philosophers spread good morals, freedom of thought and religious tolerance. Wolff himself only held to the merely formal principle; besides the revealed religion, which was only for belief, there was a natural religion which was to be demonstrated. This natural religion, or religion of reason, had of course the precedence over the revealed. Such thinkei*s as H. R. Reimarus and later J. A. Eberhard, who passed for the best disciples of Wolff, sought to bring the formal rational principle of their own philosophy into unison with the doctrine of the real Deists, though without entire success. These deistic doctrines were at first friendly to the new theo- logical movement of the day which the Age of Enlightenment had caused. The philosophy of Wolff had been instrumental in bringing this about, as many of the theologians, who believed that the real orthodox faith harmonized with Wolff's philoso- phy, turned to this and confidently asserted that the union between reason and revelation had been sealed forever. " Faith was called reason strengthened by miracles and signs, and reason was reasoning faith.'' But it must not be supposed that this new movement was entirely successful in suppressing the adherents of the old faith. This was not accomplished till the last two decades of the century, when Kant's philoso- phy transformed the essential doctrines of the Christian belief into general expressions of morality ; however, the conflict in which Lessing took such an important part was advanced to another stadium by Kant's Philosophy of Reason. The rep- resentatives of orthodoxy, who insisted upon the authority of the Bible and the symbols and who also claimed the power of the temporal authorities for themselves, strove with all the means at their command to overthrow the enemy who was 7

844 8. PBIMEB.

his mind was toward historical researches which distinguished him from the popular philosophers of the day. This led him to his favorite idea of a graded and regular historical develop- ment of the religious nature of man. He hated dogmatism of whatever kind, whether of old tradition, of authoritative faith, or the dogmatism of Enlightenment itself, and fought it wherever he found it (cf. Zeller, Deutsche Philosophicj p. 290 ff.). That combination of philosophy and religion so popular in his day he opposed. He regretted that the natural partition between the two had been torn down ; for " under the pretext of making us reasonable Christians they make us most unreasonable philosophers."

His controversy with Goeze gave him the desired oppor- tunity to '' explain and establish more fully his idea of religion and Christianity." He there makes the true distinction between religion per 8e and the form in which it is clothed at any definite time and by any definite sect. Whether religion with him means anything more than mere morality still remains an unsolved problem. He certainly understood the distinction between the religion of Christ and the Christian religion, that is, the religion of piety and love of mankind and the worship of Christ as a supernatural being. This is the central thought of the Nathan. " The Nathan is the poetic glorification of the idea which con- siders the human side of the question of more importance than the positive, the moral more important than the dogmatic, which judges man not by what he believes, but by what he is " (Zeller, 1. c, 304 ff.). Lessing did not accept the orthodox doctrines of faith without questioning them ; he was too inde- pendent for that. He certainly showed that he was a thinker on theological questions who understood the speculative depth inherent in the dogmas of Christianity and who took the field against the Socinians and Deists who ignored that depth. And yet, though often a defender of Lutheran orthodoxy, the time came when Lessing was considered its one great op|x>nent, and with much justice, though he was forced into this attitude against his own wish and in self-defence.

LESSIKO'S NATHAN THE WISE. 346

It is quite probable that while in Hamburg Lessing made the acquaintance of the writings of Professor H. S. Beimarus (1768+), the rationalist mentioned above, for he was well acquainted with the children of the professor, and undoubtedly received a copy of the manuscript from them. Under the title of Fragments from an Vnknoum he published parts of this manuscript while at Wolfenbuttel in his Ocmtributiona to History and Literature. Their publication was accompanied by Lessing's notes in which he called attention to the weak- ness of the author^s arguments and often suggested how they could best be answered. These fragments excited but little interest at first and it was one of those peculiar accidents, which always occur so opportunely to help on a good cause, that drew public attention to them. The Hamburg Pastor Goeze was then engaged in writing the history of the Low Saxon Bibles and had written to Lessing to collate a Bible found in the library for a certain passage. Lessing was then in great anxiety about the life of his wife who lay at the point of death, and either neglected or forgot to attend to the matter. This won him the bitter enmity of Goeze who considered him- self misused. Goeze now took up the subject of the fragments with fanatical rage and declared Lessing's running comments on them to be a hostile attack upon the Christian religion. When outdone by Lessing in this literary passage at arms he resorted to the Consistory at Brunswick. The fragments were con- fiscated and Lessing strictly forbidden for the future to pub- lish anything on religious matters, either at home or abroad, either with or without his name, unless with the express sanction of the government. Lessing was not intimidated, and in 1776 he directed another scathing article at his foe entitled Necessary Answer to an Unnecessary Question, It was the last word of the whole controversy. The affair thus took a different turn from that which Lessing had at first thought to give it. His reason for publishing the fragments was in the interest of truth, not as an attack on the Bible and the Christian religion. Believing that the truth could not be

846 6. PRIMEK.

enjoyed best in idle rest, but in the activity of one's own mind, he had wished to awaken the theologians from their dangerous lethargy and set them to testing th% truth once more. He now found himself obliged to shake the very foundations of the Lutheran-orthodox system and to call forth a battle between the spirit and the letter which has been lefl to us as an inherit- ance, though the weightiest truths have again been confirmed and made triumphant.

Lessing's Anti-Goeze writings which this controversy called forth have ever been admired for their wit and brilliancy. The genius of this great critic is here shown in its full power. If the wit, even where it plays with the person of Goeze, who was by no means to be despised, produces a beneficent, even an elevating feeling in us, the reason of this elevation can only be found in the fact that it is the force of the truth by which we feel ourselves imperceptibly drawn on. His first and greatest contributions are his Axiomaiaj of which the first reads thus : '' The letter is not the spirit, and the Bible is not religion. The Bible contains more than belongs to religion, and it is a mere hypothesis that the Bible is equally infallible in this more.'' Losing thus distinguishes between the spirit, or the absolute principle from which religion proceeds, and the Holy Scriptures, that document in which religion is contained, but in which more appears than belongs to religion. He does not deny, therefore, that that part of the Bible which contains real religious principles was inspired by the Holy Ghost. CQnsequently objections to the letter and the Bible are not likewise objections to the spirit and religion. His second axiom runs thus: '^ Religion also existed before the Bible. Christianity existed before the evangelists and apostles wrote. Some time passed before the first of these wrote, and a very considerable time before the whole canon was produced. However much we may depend on these writings, the whole truth of the Christian religion cannot possibly rest upon them. If there was indeed a period in which it had already taken possession of so many souls, and in which assuredly no letter

LESSINO'S NATHAN THE WISE. 347

of that which has come to us was written, it must be possible that all that the evangelists and apostles wrote was lost and yet the religion taught by them maintained itself." Lessing could easily prove that the teaching of the first apostles was oral and that tradition was more important than the Scriptures, as his study of the Church fathers had been extensive. The regula fidei existed before any book of the New Testament and it became the test of the writings of the apostles by which the present choice was made, and many other epistles, though bearing the names of apostles, were rejected. He maintained that it was not possible to show that the apostles and evangelists wrote their works for the express purpose of having the Christian religion completely and wholly deduced and proved by them. Ages passed before the Scriptures acquired any authority and without the regiUa fidei it would be impossible to prove the present Christian religion. This was playing into the hands of the Catholics, but whether intentionally or rather to point out a real defect of the Protestant doctrines is leflb ambiguous; it is certainly the weighty point in the contest. Lessing feared that he might be misunderstood and therefore sought to fore- stall hostile criticisms in his third axiom where he says : '' Religion is not true because the evangelists and apostles taught it, but they taught it because it is true. From its inner truth the written traditions must be explained and all written traditions can give it no inner truth when it has none." In other words religion does not receive its truth from those who proclaim it, nor does the document in which it is con- tained lend it a truth it does not possess itself. Religion, then, is independent of the Bible.

The enunciation of this principle caused great discontent among those who would not see any difference between religion par excellence and the Bible, its promulgator. Our historical knowledge of reveal^ religion comes to us immediately from the Bible, but the real knowledge of truth is to be found in independent inner signs which are no more dependent on the Bible than the truth of a geometrical problem is dependent on

348 6. PBIMEB.

the book in which it is found. Leasing distinguishes in the Bible the spirit from the letter, the eternal from the temporal. The truth of religion is recognized from itself, and the inner truth is the only test of the so-called hermeneutic truth which only the spirit kot* i^o^v, the spirit out of which the truth contained in the Bible came (not the Holy Spirit, but the one receiving the inner witness of the Holy Spirit) can be declared absolute authority, the last instance, to decide in matters of religious belief. How the Holy Spirit, working in unison with the active thought or real reason in us offers testimony of the truth in the self-consciousness of man. Leasing did not discuss.

Lessing's contemporaries were not able to comprehend nor appreciate fully the truth which forms the basis of his polemic against his opponents, nor did its full import appear in his Axiomaia or his Anii-Goeze., The politico-social conditions of that age also received his attention, in which sphere he fought the powers of prejudice in his Emai and Falk, or Dialogues for FreerMiaons, The brilliant and well-read French writers had subjected the burgher constitutions and the social life of their times to the severest criticism, and laid bare the dark sides of the age without reserve. J. J. Rousseau had con- demned the civilized state and praised the simple condition of primitive nature. Lessing was thoroughly opposed to this idea of a primitive state as the best in the social order, and considered " the ideal society one in which there would be no government" " A society of developed men who stand in no need of law because they have acquired absolute self-control : that was the end to which Lessing looked forward as the highest point mankind could reach." But this he knew could not then, perhaps, never be attained, and Falk says in one dialogue that '' in civil society alone can human reason be cultivated." He was also oppased to that tendency in ancient Greek life which sacrificed the individual to the state, the belief that the welfare of the state is the end, that of the individual the means : '^States unite men, that through and in

LBSSING^S NATHAN THE WISE. 349

this union every individual may the better and more surely enjoy his share of welfare. The total of the welfare of its members is the welfare of the state ; besides this there is none. Every other kind of welfare of the state, whereby individuals suffer and must sufler, is a cloak for tyranny.^' But just what the duties of a state are to its individual members Lessing does not tell us. He dwells on some of the evils that are connected with the state as it now is, and urged the cosmopolitan and humanitarian idea with his usual vigor. He advocated no single political constitution which he considered the very best, for he knew that all nations were not equally advanced nor equally suited for the same constitution. There should be diversity to suit the diversified interests of the various nations, but all should strive to draw nearer that standard where government will not be necessary. The unavoidable evils which accompany the social life we must bear as well as possible, just as W6 bear the smoke of the fire which gives us warmth; but we may build chimneys, if we will. ^* He does not deny the distinctions that exist, he does not pretend that so long as there are states they can be done away with, but he looks them in the face, and finds that their importance is only in name. What does it matter, he virtually asks, that a man is a prince or cobbler, an Englishman or a Russian, a Christian or a Mohammedan ? He is still a man, and his manhood are his true greatness and dignity. This is the very kernel of the most vital truth of democracy ; and because of it Lessing may be claimed as, in temper and character, one of the first and most genuine of modern demo- crats " (Sime II, pp. 293-4). In these five dialogues we see that Lessing takes a cosmopolitan view of the social problem and rises above all nationality ; his object is a plea for humani- tarianism in its broadest sense, and that spirit of charity which admits no undue respect for rank and no narrow patriotism. Whether attainable or not in this present world, constituted as it is, it is certainly worth striving for.

360 8. PRIMER.

Closely connected with these dialogues is the essay on the Education of the Human Race, in which Lessing starts out with the proposition that '' what Education is to the individual man, Revelation is to the Human Race. Education is Revela- tion which comes to the individual man. Revelation is E^duca- tion which has come to the Human Race, and is still coming.'' He divides God's Revelation to man into three stages: The first is that of the Israelites under the Old Dispensation, the lowest stage, where jierceptible punishment and rewards are necessary. Fear of temporal punishment prevented the evil from breaking out in man. Christianity was the second stage, the spiritual religion. Christ became the teacher of the im- mortality of the soul and thus another true future life gained an influence upon the acts of men. " The inner purity of the heart to be recommended for another life was reserved for Christ alone." " These writings (of the New Testament) have for seventeen hundred years enlightoned human reason more than all other books, if only by the light which human reason has given to them." But as the human race outgrew the Old Dispensation it will also outgrow the New. The third stage, or the stage of " the new, eternal gosi)el, which is promised in the elementary books of the New Testament, will surely come." This is the time of perfection, " when man, the more convinced his reason feels of the ever better future, will indeed not have to borrow motives for his actions from this future, since he will do the good because it is good, not because arbitrary rewards have been promised which should merely fix and strengthen the fickle look in order to teach the inner, better rewards of the same."

So nearly related are these two writings that we must thoroughly investigate this new gosi)el before we can com- pletely understand the politico-social and religious views of our author. In the Education of the Human Race Lessing maintains that the inducement to do good for the professing Christian is not so much the pure love of the good as rather the prosiK'ct of eternal happiness, which, according to Chris-

LESSING'S NATHAN THE ^WIBB. 351

tian doctrines, is the consequence of virtue. A certain eude- monistic element, therefore, will still cling to the common Christian doctrine, and it would only be reserved for the religion of the future to display virtue in its complete purity without any mixture of foreign elements. But the education of the human race indicates that Christianity already contains the truth, and that the shell in which it is often hidden will be completely broken, and the part which has hitherto been a secret will be revealed. For this reason historical Christianity holds the same relation to the New Gospel as the truth, which is still in a certain measure a mystery, holds to the absolute knowledge of the truth. The development of real truth to the truth of reason is absolutely necessary to the human race, if it is to make proi)er progress to the point of loving virtue for itself. For, as it is reason which thinks the revealed truths and gradually recognizes them, so it is reason also that produces that purity of heart by means of which we are made capable of loving virtue for itself. Not till the time when men recognize the truth of religion, and have given them- selves wholly up to the truth with the heart freed from every emotion of eudemonism, have they arrived at that grade of development where they may expect the New Gospel. This third age will come, of that our author has no doubt. When men, the entire race as well as individuals, have attained to that point where they are capable of ruling themselves then there will be a new era for social life and the state. Then order would exist without government. The age in which men love virtue for its own sake is the same age as that in which the order of the social world will exist without govern- ment. Lessing, therefore, maintains that no positive religion has any right to claim supremacy. Particular races and particular times must have a religion suited to them and their time, which must change as they outgrow it, or as the times change. There is constant growth, constant advance, no per- manancy in the sense of stagnation or lack of growth. In this light no nation, no person, has the right to claim that his

362 8. PBIICEB.

religion is the only true religion ; nor can he claim his to be superior on the plea of special revelation, but only as having more of the divine nature in it. In other words, it must be less mixt with elements foreign to the true nature of religion and to God in order to be su])erior. This is the real basis of that " tolerance of which Nathan and Saladin are the ideal representatives. If a man believes that he possesses a truth without which the race must perish, it is impossible for him to look with calmness on opposing faiths. Let him become convinced that there is no truth essential to mankind to which all have not equal access, and it will seem strange to him that anyone should wish to restrain the free intellectual impulses of his fellows" (Sime II, pp. 271-2).

But if no historical religion is absolute, each has a relative worth." Every positive religion (Christianity, Judaism, or other) has been beneficial to its age and believers. Lessing did not join those skeptics who were attempting to overthrow the Church and all religious belief, but he had the courage to proclaim to these iconoclasts that ''they misunderstood the religion they assailed." It had achieved great good for the human race and would continue its work. '' Why," he asks, '' will we not rather recognize in positive religions the direction in which alone the human understanding has been able to de- velop itself in various places, and may yet further develop itself, than either smile or scowl at either of them ? Nothing in the best of worlds deserves this our anger, this our dislike, and only our religion shall be supposed to deserve it? God has had his hand in everything, but has had nothing to do with our errors?" ''These simple words sounded the doom of the only way in which it has yet occurred to the free- thinking eighteenth century to look upon religions with which it did not agree. They asserted once for all the principle that it is not by trickery that the lives of vast masses of men are controlled from generation to generation" (ibid.)

In his Nathan Lessing has attempted to idealize these two principles that no positive religion has an absolute value,

LESSING'S NATHAN THE WISE. 353

though having a relative one, and that there is a law of pro- gress in human history, whether civil or religioua Does his drama reach his high ideal of religion, his noble ideal of the state, his exalted ideal of life? Or is it rather only a com- plement, only another example, another superior or inferior view of the discussion into which he had been drawn ? To answer these questions intelligently we must subject this his drama to a critical examination.

In the Goeze controversy Lessing had violated the com- mands of those over him and felt that he might lose his position as librarian of Wolfenbuttel ; moreover he wished to put in imperishable and popular form those ideas which the discussion had brought to light. Therefore he had conceived the idea of preparing the Nathan for publication and selling it on sub- scription. The first definite notice we find of the play is in a letter to his brother, dated August 11th, 1778, in which he says : '^ Many years ago I once sketched a play, the plot of which bears a kind of analogy to my present controversy, of which I did not then even dream. ... If you and Moses (Mendelssohn) wish to know it, you may turn to the Decamerone of Boccaccio, Giorn. I., Nov. III., Melchisedech, Giudeo. I think I have invented a very interesting episode to it, so that all will read well and I shall certainly play the theologians a greater joke than with ten more fragments.^' In another letter he gives the additional information that ''it will be anything but a satirical piece in order to leave the battle-field with sar- castic laughter. It will be as pathetic a piece as I have ever written and Mr. Moses (Mendelssohn) has judged correctly that mockery and laughter would not be in harmony with the note I struck in my last paper \^Nece88ary Answer, etc.] (which you will also find vibrating in this afterpiece), unless I wished to give up the whole controversy. But I do not yet have the least desire to abandon it, and he (Moses) shall indeed see that I am not going to injure my own cause by this dramatic digression.'^ On another occasion he adds : '* My piece has nothing to do with our present blaokcoats (clericals), and I will

354 8. PRIMER.

not block the way for its final appearance on the theatre, if a hundred years must first pass. The theologians of all revealed religious will indeed silently curse it, but they will be careful not to take sides against it openly.^'

However different the three religions are, according to the measure of their revelation, they are still in so far genuine that they come from God and originate in God who adapts his love to the strength of mankind in granting them the Mosaic and Muhammedan religions as those of the law and the Christian as that of freedom. By the religion of the law men become only servants, by the religion of love they become free, become the children of God und heirs of his kingdom. But God did not give the law to develop the servitude of men ; the law is to be the educator that leads to Christ. When the natural man strives to rise above the law given him by the paternal love for his instruction and development, when he loves the law, understands its object and purport, then it ceases to be a law to him, he no longer feels it as a fetter, and only then is he capable of bearing true freedom ; then perfection will come and patchwork will cease. We see this in the centurion of Caperuium, in Nicodemus, in Nathanael the Israelite without guile, in the Samaritan, in Cornelius the centurion, who are all above the law and are no longer fettered by it. One still under the law can grow above the law, and Jew and Muham- medan can be better than their law requires of them ; but they then cease to that extent to be Jew and Muhammedan that they grow into a higher order of discipline, into freedom. The Christian always fails to reach the demands of his doctrine, can never get to its highest stage of perfection, can never rise above its great truths. These embrace mankind, that univer- sal development possible to man, while the religions of the law exclude mankind from the universality of this symmetri- cal development, give him a narrow and contracted education. The soul of our drama, the leading thought in it, is that piety of the heart, justice and love first impart the genuine oonsecra-* tion to the confession of the definite, positive faith.

LESSINO'S NATHAN THE WISE. 366

This is the true principle of religion, this is the principle which Lessing wished to proclaim in his drama. We may here, indeed, pertinently ask which of the different forms of faith conforms more nearly to this true religious ideal. For this question becomes the pivotal question of the drama, and is answered, or rather its answer is attempted, in the parable of the three rings. For true religion possesses the power of making one's self well-pleasing to God and man. Religion is thus a force, and its effectiveness depends upon certain condi- tions ; this effectiveness is, under certain circumstances, para- lyzed by the resistance which it meets. Therefore, religion does not produce its true effect with everyone, but requires one condition, namely, faith or confidence, and only he who possesses this faith, this confidence, can make himself well-pleasing to God and man. The power of religion is not mechanical, but dynamical, and requires co-operation on the part of man, an inner activity of its possessor. It requires our cooperation in a twofold manner, in our relation to God and in our relation to man, — resignation to God and love to our neighbor. This is the marrow of religion and is common to all religions. They differ only in degree and only in the way in which they demand both of us. This criterion would decide the relation of the religions to one another. And this appears to be the question discussed in the Nathan^ but only appears so. For we could not make a greater mistake than to believe that Lessing wished to compare in Nathan Islamism, Judaism, and Christianity and judge the three religions according to their respective merits. The very fact that Saladin is a Muhamme- dan, Nathan a Jew, and the Patriarch a Christian, but neither of them a true representative of his religion, contradicts this view. There is a good reason why Lessing makes the Patri- arch a Christian and Nathan a Jew, as we shall see later on ; it would also be folly to think that Lessing intended to make Christianity inferior to Islamism and Judaism. The heathen show their self-abnegation before God by sacrifice ; the Jews by sacrifice and that inner feeling which manifests itself in

356 8. PRIMER.

the reoognitioD of sin and atonement; the Christian by giving the whole heart to God, and by the regenerating process which follows this. Islamism is in this respect nearly related to Christianity, but possesses a fatalistic feature which bends the will of man to a higher will, but does not set it to work. Our relations to God determine our relations to man. All religions presuppose a moral relation of man to man, but members of the different religions are at different stages of the religious growth. Judaism did not extend the love of neighbor beyond its national boundary, and prayed for the destruction of its enemies. Islamism extended its neighborly love to all the races of its confession and put the others to fire and sword. Christianity broke down the barriers and brought true humanity into the world, and extended the love of neighbor to the love of mankind in general. The gospel of Christian love is taught in the parable of the good Samaritan and is found in the words of Christ : '^ Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, pray for them which despitefully use you, and ])ersecute you ; that ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven ; for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust " (Mt. 5, 44—45). This un- egoistic, disinterested love proceeding from the resignation to God forms the kernel of Christianity; we see that Lessing acknowledges this as the vital essence of the Christian religion in his beautiful monogram : The Testament of John, who re- peated constantly to his disciples the words '^ Little children, love ye one another," and when asked why, answered, " because it is the Lord's command and because when ye do that alone, ye do all."

But the growth of this religion of love may be so checked in the spiritual life of man that scarcely any trace of it shall appear, while, on the other hand, the religion of law may, under proper circumstances, produce the most disinterested love. Thus we have the Patriarch who is all the more despicable for knowing the command of love and disregard-

LESSINO'S NATHAN THE WISE. 357

^g ^^9 7^^ ^6 ^^ Nathan^ in spite of the great obstacles which birthy education and environment laid upon him, cross- ing the narrow boundaries of his own faith and arriving at the genuine religion of love. It is not a comparison of two religions but of two men. For religion is not an outer garment, but a living, animating principle which makes its possessor well-pleasing to God and man. And yet every religion which does not confine itself to one individual but is to take root in a nation must be expressed in a certain form of divine service, in certain customs and rites. General ideas can exist as little as bodiless spirits. Without a body the spirit vanishes, without confession religion becomes a mere effusive display of sentiment, a mere empty abstraction. Every nation has its peculiar form of religion. Only when a religion is adapted to the nation which possesses it can it fulfil its mission and educate the people to true religion. Sometimes the mere outward form covers up the real kernel of religion, but as long as the real kernel is there it has some vitalizing power. True tolerance is quite opposed to mere indifference and proceeds from a firm conviction of the truth of one's own faith ; it consists in the fact that we recognize in others the moral principle of their convictions and the historical right of certain symbols and rites. But he who thinks that the true essence of religion inheres in these symbols and rites alone will be just as intolerant as he who denies their origin, their significance, and their justification. Lessing cannot therefore be justly reproached with having made Christianity inferior to Islamism and Judaism, nor does any blame attach to him for having left it undecided which of the three religions is in possession of the true ring. '^ By their fruits ye shall know them," and has he not made it evident in his EducaJHon of the Human Race and other writings which of the three he considers highest? And do we not know which produces the best fruits? Let modern civilization answer those who still doubt. Although it is Christianity in which the spirit of Christ reveals the truths 8

358 8. PRIMER.

of Gkxl most perfectly^ it is uot true of all individuals in it, and no one has the right to draw conclusions about the essence of Christianity from isolated examples. For there is a vast difference between the real, vivifying power of the gospel and sporadic distortions produced by crippled^ misshapen growth ; between the truth of an idea itsdf and individual appearances of the same ; between its effect in universal history and its subjective existence in the souls of individual men.

But why, we may justly ask, did Lessing make a Jew (Nathan), a Saracen (Saladin), the representatives of his higher religion, and make of the Patriarch a true {)attem of priestly arrogance and all that is most abhorrent in human nature? It has been well answered that Lessing '^ wished to preach to the Christians, wished to make them conscious of the foolishness and badness of their Christian views and shame them; for this purpose distortions from their own faith and noble examples from the non-christian world served him better. For Christ himself held the Grood Samaritan as an example to the hard-hearted Pharisees and stiff-necked scribes ; but he did* not wish to place Samaritanism above Judaism for all tiiat.'' We repeat that Lessing did not choose the persons of his drama as representatives of their special religions. For if the Christians of the drama are to represent Christianity, then the Jews and Muhammedans must likewise represent their religions. But neither Nathan nor Saladin, nor Sittah, nor Al Hafi represents at all his religion, but one is forced to believe that Lessing had just the opposite in view in sketching tiieir characters and actions. For he has either completely suppressed, or at least weakened and placed in the background, the peculiar, innate marks of different faitiis by the compensating power of their religion of humanity and reason. No one would be able to extract the true doctrine of Christ from the characters and acts of the Patriarch, of Daja, of the Templar, of the Cloister- brother. The only reason which induced Lessing to take his best characters from other faiths and to make the Christians

LESSING'S NATHAN THE MOSE. 369

the worst is the lesson he wished to teach. He wished to *'hold the mirror up to nature^ to show virtue her own features, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure.'' And all for the instruction of the Christians. The n^ative side of the lesson is to rebuke those who put the letter above the spirit, which results in arrogance, hypocrisy, intolerance, and fanatical persecutions. This was the answer to Groeze and his dan and was the continuation of his controversy by which he hoped to defeat his opponents. Therefore he could not take his dramatic characters in which he intended to show the distortions of the Christian religion from among the Jews and Muhammedans, but must choose them from among the Christians. For his drama was intended for effect upon Christians, as he had his motive from them. Had Lessing been a Jew or Mussulman and wished to give them a lesson, he would have chosen a Christian for his model character.

But the real, deep, underlying reason for choosing a Jew as model, the positive side of Lessing's idea, lies in the fact that the best criterion of strength and skill in a warrior is the d^ree of strength and skill shown by his opponent over whom he wins the victory. None of the three religions under discussion offers such a contrast with the idea of the Nathan as the Jewish ; therefore none of them makes it so difficult for its professor to realize this idea and so interweave it into his character as to make it a living principle of life as the Jewish; none but the Jewish offers so many obstacles for overcoming contradictory errors and vices. The belief in Jehovah as the zealous, angry God of punishment, rather nourishes hate than the common love of mankind ; the belief in Jehovah and in the Jewish nation as his chosen people leads to national and religious arrogance ; to contempt for the Grentiles; it obstructs, or at least renders diffi- cult, the germination of the idea of humanitarianism and cos- mopolitanism. The history of the Jews confirms this statement. Even the Templar, who had risen above nationality and posi- tive religion, cherishes such prejudice against the Jews that at

360 a PRiMEB.

first he will have nothing to do with Recha and Nathan : ^' A Jew's a Jew, and I am rude and bearish." The power of reason and love is all the more magnificent when it triumphs over such prejudices ; here is tlie profound reason why Nathan, who so far surpassed all other ciiaracters in goodness and wisdom, is made the principal character of the drama. We must not look for his prototype either in the spirit of the time, which indeed in its tendency to enlightenment was favorable to the Jews, nor in the personal friendship of Lessing with Moses Mendelssohn, who himself says of Nathan: ''After the appearance of Nathan the cabal whispered into the ear of every friend and acquaintance that Lessing had abused Christianity, though he has only ventured to reproach some Christians and at most Christianity. In very truth, however, his Nathan, as we must confess, redounds to the honor of Christianity. Upon what high plane of enlightenment and civilization musta people be in which a man can rise to this height of sentiment, can edu- cate himself to this excellent knowledge of divine and human things. At least posterity must think so, it seems to me; but Lessing's contemporaries did not think so." Perhaps Spiel- hagen {Faud und NathaUy p. 17) is not so far wrong when he says: "In Faust the riddle (of life) is given up, in Nathan it is solved." And jmge 25 he adds : " Fatutt is the tragedy of universal pain, Nathan the Song of Songs of reconciliation. Faust is chaos, Nathan is the Iris-bow w^hich brightly spans the abyss, a sign of comforting promise." It is safe to assume that the Nathan represents Lessing's third stage in the Edu- cation of the Human Rac^, the perioil of " Peace on earth and good will to men," the reign of universal peace where men shall do right l>ecause it is right and govern themselves with- out law or rulers as each one will prefer another's interest to his own.

The setting of I^essing's conception of a perfect religion is the tale of the three rings, to which we now turn our attention. In the times of the crusades the belief obtained to a consider- able extent that Christians, Jews and heathen all serve one

LESSINQ's NATHAN THE WISE. 361

Grod, or, as some stated it, God possesses three kinds of children in Christians, Jews and heathen. The decision of rank for the children of the house rests only with the father. The order of Knights Templars favored these liberal views and even the foremost thinkers among the Jews believed that Judaism and Christianitj were two true religions coming from God and that neither was tainted with deceit. One of their wise rabbis (it must have originated in the eastern country which is so full of metaphorical language) has clothed this thought in a para- ble, afterwards known as the parable of the rings. About the year 1100 a Spanish Jew put it in its earliest and simplest Jewish form. It states that Pedro of Arragon once asked a rich Jew, who had the reputation of great wisdom, which of the two laws (Mosaic or Christian) he considered the better, in order to have an excuse for appropriating his money, no matter which way he might answer the question. The Jew took three days' time for thought, at the end of which he came back to the king in apparent confusion and related the follow- ing incident. A month ago his neighbor, a jeweler, on the point of making a long journey, comforted his two sons by giving each a precious stone. This morning they had asked him, the Jew, about the worth of the two treasures, and, on his explanation that they must wait for the return of the father who alone was competent to decide the question, they had abused him and beaten him. Pedro said that this mean conduct of the sons deserved punishment. " Let thy ear hear what thy mouth speaks,'^ replied the Jew. "The brothers Esau and Jacob have each a precious stone, and, if you wish to know who has the better, send a messenger to the great jeweler above who alone knows the diflTerence." Pedro, satisfied with the answer, sent the Jew away in peace.

Between this simplest parable of the precious stones and the richest in every way (Lessing's version in Nathan) many members and variations appear, full of pride of faith and spiritual freedom, of exclusive confidence and unsparing skepticism, of universal love of man and narrow hate. The

362 6. PBIHEB.

moral lesson contained in all these different versions is the '^teaching of brotherly love^ humanity^ and mutual toler- ance.'^ — which forms the essence and basis of the Christian religion. And this is the same lesson which Lessing had been trying to teach in his controversy with Goeze^ in the Education of the Human Racty and the other writings of that period, so that Nathan only embodies in poetic form what he had already said elsewhere. In Spain, probably, a third religion was added, the Moorish. The indecision remains, but the early Christian transformation clouded the clearness of the Spanish-Jewish anecdote. According to Wiinsche (Origin of the Parable of the Three Rings) the next earliest account is found in the Cento Novelle antichey a well-known collection of Italian stories. In number 72 is the parable of the rings which is nearly like the Arragonian, but we have here a Sultan and three rings, one genuine and two false, the father alone knowing the true one. From here the story passed into the Gesta Romanorum where in one of its three versions we have one additional trait which Lessing has made use of. Here the true ring has the power of making its wearer beloved by God and man. Whether Busone da Gubbio (1311) in his novel Avventuroso Siciliano took his version of the ])arable from the Cento Novelle or elsewhere is still doubt- ful, but it is certain that Boccaccio drew from him. Busone made but few changes : only one ring is genuine, but it is not left to the father to decide which religion is the true one, that still remains undecided. With Boccaccio it is no longer an indefinite sultan, but the warlike and heroic Saladin who in his need of money calls the rich and usurious Jew Melchisedec from Alexandria to Jerusalem in order to force a loan from him by means of the vexatious question which of the three religions he considers the true one. The Jew is soon resolved and recounts to Saladin as if by sudden inspira- tion the story of the three rings. This is essentially the same as that given in NcUhan, Act 3, sc. 7, to which we refer the reader. The story of Boccaccio varies very little from the

LEBSINO'S NATHAN THE WISE. 363

other Italian accounts. He does not tell us^ as the others did, for what purpose the sultan needed money. Busone also gives the reason why the sultan seeks to rob the Jew. Jews are hated, therefore they can conscientiously be robbed of their money. For the tolerant Boccaccio this was wrong, so he changes his Jew into a rich, avaricious usurer instead of leaving him a noble and wise person.

Lessing has made several changes. Besides the fact that the ring has been received from "dear hands" it has the power of making its wearer, who should have confidence in its virtue, well-pleasing before God and man. In order to prevent the son who should possess the ring from alone be- coming the head and prince of the house, the father had two others made so like the original that he could not distinguish the true from the false. Rejoicing that he could now show each of his sons the same marks of love, he calls each one to him separately and gives each of them a blessing and the ring. After the father's death there arose the same controversy about the genuine ring as in the other versions, and the judge before whom all appeared could give no verdict. Boccaccio closes with the remark : " Each of the three nations believes its religion to be the real, divine revelation ; but which has the true one can no more be decided than which is the true ring." Lessing does not stop there. Aft;er the judge has dismissed the three wrangling sons from his tribunal on account of lack of proof to form any decision, it occurs to him that there is a key to this seeming riddle. The true ring possesses a magic virtue which cannot fail to manifest itself in the one who has it and wears it in this confidence. As none of the three pos- sesses the power to make himself beloved by the others, so none has the true ring ; this must be lost and those they have are false ; the father would not bear the tyranny of one ring any longer in his house ; each may now think he has the true one, and let each strive to show the virtue of his ring.

The magic virtue is the moral effect of religion. When the judge asked the sons to help the virtue of the ring by meek-

364 8. PROfEIU

ness, by hearty docility, by well-doing, by inner resignation to the will of God, he shows that these virtues are the moral effects of religion meant by the magic virtue of the ring. In them, and not in the outer, historical symbols and rites, lies the infallible proof of the truth of religion. That religion is the true one which produces the best men. Whether Islamism, Judaism, or Christianity is best adapted to effect this result Lessing does not say, but only implies that it is not impossible in all tiiree. We cannot, however, deny that the way in which the principal character of the drama throws doubt on every positive religion wliich lays claim to objective truth has some- thing dazzling for the great mass of mankind. It would almost appear as if the story in its comprehensive, graceful form, was well suite<l to spread that enlightenment which desires to resolve religion into complete agnosticism. The story is higlily poetical, however, and does not completely conform to the real thought. Whether only two of the pos- sessors of the rings, or, as the judge seems to think, all three have been deceived, cannot l)e decided under the circumstances. But this is only a story intended to inculcate a truth and must be judged as the jmrables of the Lord. As parables they may be excellent, even for tiie special pur|K)se used, but if taken as truths they may be complete or incomplete, true or false in themselves, though (|uite proper to exemplify the truth which the one employing them wished to teach. The three religions are in so far distinguished from one another that in two of them, Islamism and Judaism, there is a difference l)etween the objective truth sought for and the truth actually revealed, while in Christianity, where the divine and human have be- come thoroughly united, the truth sought in all religions is really revealed. It cannot l)e expected that Nathan, who, according to his own confession, does not wish to give the truth as such, but rather by means of the story which he tells the sultan thinks himself dispensed from the solution of the problem, will really state the principle which distinguishes the truth of the three religions and their relation to one another.

LESSING'S NATHAN THE WISE. 366

When Saladin objects that the religions named by him can be distinguished from one another, Nathan replies that they are all based on tradition and history^ and adds that it is quite natural that we all, Muhammedans, Jews^ Christians^ should doubt least of all the words of those whose blood flows in our veins, of those who have given us proof of their love from our childhood.

This mode of reasoning is truly such that the conscience, which does not enter into the inner reasons upon which real knowledge rests, is satisfied. But it does not enter into the greater, profounder depths of the question where knowledge alone can guide. It is true that all religions with any real life to them have an historical background and that children accept the religion of their fathers as something from those who are nearest and dearest to them. But this is only belief founded on authority and is to be distinguished from the real religious belief founded on more perfect knowledge and the inner witness of the spirit. This is why Lessing insists on the fact that the truth of religion is to be recognized in itself, in its inner characteristics, thus rising to an ideal sphere to which Nathan does not attain. While denying that for him who would gain the knowledge, the characteristics of the truth are already present in the three religions, Nathan gives voice to the sentiment that it is the moral life, love, through which the truth of our inherited religion manifests itself. The manner in which the owners of the three rings quarrel with one another tends to show us that that miraculous force inherent in the true religion is active in none of the three religions whose symbols are the rings. Hence they are urged to emulate this love, so that perhaps later the truth might be revealed to their descendants. This love we know is the touchstone of real religion. But Nathan makes it the property of the Muhamme- dan, Jewish and Christian religions, when it belongs to the Christian alone. For religions of law only gain the full truth through love which is the origin of law and the essence of the moral world ; even all Christians who wish to enter into the

366 8. PRIMER.

kingdom of God must emulate this love. Christ taught it here on earth and has left it as a legacy to us. No oDe, how- ever^ can say that this love has been revealed to, and become the real motive of, the moral life in Judaism and Islamism, which are both national religions and neither knew nor had received any revelation of the love that absolves man from error and sin.

Having announced the doctrine of love in the story, the poet shows the moral force springing from pure love in his denoue- ment. Characters separated by nationality, but obeying the purely human feelings, appear before us at the dose of the drama in a real union. The powerful sultan Saladin, Nathan the rich Jew living in Jerusalen, a German Templar, prisoner of the Saracens, Sittah, Daja, Recha, are drawn to one another by similar sentiments, and the ties of blood and the benevolence of the Jew seal the bond. As in nature night yields to the rising sun, so here delusion and hate disappear from the consciences of men as soon as love ap|)ears. Oriental and Occidental, Muhammedan, Jew, Christian, rise above particu- lar interests, feel drawn to one another as man to man, even love one another as members of one family. This is the same high standard that we saw in the Educati<yii of the Human Race and in Ernst and Folk. The conclusion of Nathan^ moreover, is intended to let us see, imperfectly to be sure, the realization of that ideal claimed only for the future in the two articles. Those characters have advanced far enough to accept the new eternal gos|)el. But this makes them true Christians in whose religion alone all the conditions for such a development are found.

Besides the novel in the Decam^'one of Boccaccio already mentioned two others have an important bearing on the plot of our drama. The family history, some features in Nathan himself, and, in a certain measure, the character of the Templar are undoubtedly due to Lessing's study of this Italian author. The story related in Gioru. v, V, throws light on the family relations of our characters. It is an account of a lost child

LESSING'S .NATHAN THE WISE. 367

like Recha who is reared by a kind-hearted old gentlemaD, Giaeomino, as his own daughter. Here, however, two young men fall in love with her, one of whom turns out to be her brother and the other marries her. All the features of the Templar and Recha are present. The two servants are com- bined in Daja, and Bernabuccio, the father of the lost girl, is Wolf von Filneck, the father of the Templar and Recha. The lovely characteristic of Boccaccio's Giaeomino, ** who in his time had experienced much, who was a good-natured man, has passed over to Nathan, while the violent impetuosity of Giannole, the brother, is reflected in the Templar."

But Lessing is still further indebted to Boccaccio, Giom. X, Nov. III. Here we have a man named Nathan who is exceedingly wealthy, benevolent, hospitable, of noble senti- ments, giving thirty-two times to the same beggar woman without letting her see that she is recognized by him, going about in modest attire. Calm and composed when a rival in wealth and goodness comes and tells him that he is going to kill him because he outdoes him in goodness and benevo- lence, prudent, noble-minded and self-denying in every way. Had he talked and been a Jew he would have been Lessing's Nathan. How much the Nathan in the Novel reminds of the Nathan in the drama and yet how skilfully Lessing has transformed and remodelled his characters to suit his own idea to be represented in his drama ! For the trend, the idea of the drama is profounder, more consistent, more according to the dictates of reason than any Boccaccio ever even imagined.

Boccaccio was, however, not the only source of Lessing's drama, say some critics. That absurd story that Dean Swift and Esther Johnson, or Stella, were both the natural children of Sir William Temple, the English Diplomatist and Politi- cal writer, is cited as a source. Moreover Swift wrote the Tale of a Tab, a parabolical comparison of the three confes- sions, Catholicism, Protestantism, and Calvinism, showing that all three had departed so far from the true spirit of Christianity that there was no more life in any of them.

368 8. PBDiEB.

The parable of the three rings is certainly more elevated than that of the TaU of a TuA, though there is a certain resemblance in the subject-matter and ti*end of the latter to the drama. Lessing was well acquainted with this story and also with SwifVs work. But Caro (p. 74 ff.) probably goes too far when he says that Lessing here found that inner association of ideas so necessary for the unity of his drama. For there is no more inner connection between the Tale of a Tuh and Swift's supposed love to a sister (then considered true, but now known to be false) than there is between the three novels of Boccaccio (Giom. x, iii; Giom. v, v, i, III). For inner connection is not a personal element, but a natural cause and effect. The complete idea contained in Nathan had long been lying in the poet's mind ; its external form was a mere secondary thought which Boccaccio's novels were as likely, and more so, to put into definite shape as Swift's story and work.

Caro's conceit that the name of Swift's supposed father, "Temple," led Lessing to call the sister's brother a Templar is a clever one, but has no force. For the historical back- ground naturally brought the Templars into action and it was only to be expected that they would play a prominent part in the drama. It may be possible that the Swift incident had an unconscious influence upon Lessing. For when Voltaire returned from England, he brought the Tale of a Tub with him, asserting that this notorious Tale of a Tub was an imitation of the three undistinguishable rings which the father left to his three children ; and we know that Lessing was an ardent admirer of Voltaire. But no one now concedes that it was the veritable source ; for Boccaccio stood nearer in thought to the point's idea than the Swift source.

It is remarkable with what masterly skill Lessing has acquired the very spirit of the Orient. The best Oriental scholars could not do better. Only the East produces such remarkable examples of generosity and liberality ; here it is

I.£SSINO'S NATHAN THE WISE. 369

a religious virtue to give. Parabolic teachings generally in the open air, is another peculiaritj of the eastern nations and Lessing has made free use of it. Nathan is master of this art and Reeha is his worthy pupil. Notice also that the catastrophe of the piece is brought about by a parable. The style is simple^ natural, and original. Each character uses the language peculiarly suited to it and it changes to suit the scene. Not unfrequently Lessing went into the street, as it were, and picked up most expressive phrases and legalized their use by adopting them.

Had Lessing wished to employ dramatic poetry to represent certain general phenomena of the psychological life he could have chosen no better locality or time for his purpose than Palestine during the third crusade. The East and West met here and Palestine formed the center of all the historical life of the time. Richard the Lion-hearted of England, Philip Augustus of France, Leopold of Austria, the most powerful rulers of the West, accompanied by the greatest and noblest vassals of their kingdoms, the king of Jerusalem with his barons, the bloom of knighthood in the priestly orders of the Templars and Knights of Malta, and a high clergy ; Saladin, the victorious warrior of the East, who ruled from the Nile to the Euphrates and Tigris with his Emirs and Pashas. Inter- mingled with these were the clever merchants from the great commercial cities of the Mediterranean; Jews, experienced and educated by their journeyings in all lands, so that, as Les- sing says (3, 10) " all the world flocks together here." This congr^ation of all mankind in a friendly and hostile manner must necessarily have exerted a peculiar influence upon the general culture, must have produced a peculiar sentiment and intellectual development, must have made a peculiar impres- sion upon the views taken of the whole world and of life by the more enlightened individuals, especially upon the religious views, as well of the Jews as of the Christians and Mussul- mans. Boccaccio had placed his Jew in Alexandria and had him called to Saladin. For his place of action Lessing chose

370 8. PRIM£R.

Jerusalem at a time when Saladin had captured the holy city from the crusaders. Here had assembled that people for wor- ship which called itself the chosen people of God. Christ, by his glorious death on the cross, had made the city sacred and had promulgated a universal religion. But during the Middle Ages Jerusalem became the seat of the fanatical rage of both Christians and Muhammedans who there committed execrable deeds of violence and blood. The spirit of humanity dis- played by noble men formed a striking contrast with most frightful intolerance, and thus set off the truths announced by our drama; this very contrast makes the ideal part of our poem more real and the real part more ideal. Lessing wished to exhibit the evils of religious fanaticism and the reign of Saladin was best suited for that. Time and place were admira- bly adapted to bring the representation of the three religions into close connection. For at this time the spirit of adventure reigned supreme and the air was full of strange incidents and curious events.

From the historical allusions in the play the exact time, as near as that can be determined, was probably between the first of September, 1192, and the fifth of March, 1193, that is after the conclusion of the truce with Richard the Lion-hearted and before the death of Saladin. And though Lessing paid no great attention to strict chronological order, " he still contrives to bring before us a vivid historical picture, and the local coloring is produced in a truly masterly manner."

As Nathan the Wise represents the conflict of tolerance with prejudice, we can on this principle divide the characters into certain groups. Nathan, Saladin and the Templar represent the cosmopolitan and humanitarian idea, while the Patriarch, and in a certain degree, Daja also, stands for narrow-minded- ness and intolerance. The cloisterbrother and Al Hafi have a leaning to nature-life and are representatives of noble Natural- ism. Nathan himself naturally leads the first group. Lessing is said to have glorified in him, his life-long friend, Moses Mendelssohn, but there is not a single trait in Nathan bearing

LESBING's NATHAN THE WISE. 371

any resemblance whatever to Moses Mendelssohn. Most of the features are taken from Melchisedec and that Nathan of Boccaccio already mentioned, though they have been ideal- ized. We have shown above why a Jew was chosen to represent this his greatest character in the drama. Nathan possesses endurance, wisdom, calmness, and affability, and is above all narrowness of nationality and religious difference. As merchant he has visited many lands and gathered experi- ence as well as gold. He is generous and benevolent towards all. The true religion for him is the one which teaches love to God and man, gentleness, tolerance, and right-doing ; for him tolerance is not a mere inclination, a mere pastime, but an inner wish, character, the man. He is in every way the opposite to Shakespeare's Shylock, and is in fact the possessor of the true ring in that he understands how to make himself well-pleasing to God and man. He is an ideal character, the embodiment of an idea, Lessing's idea of true manhood ; in this respect we could with greater justice say that Lessing himself, rather than his friend, is his own prototype for his Nathan, though this would be aside from the truth. And yet we have something of the Jew in Nathan ; the cunning ob- servable in his dealings with his fellow-men, hiai deference to others in order to attain his ends, which indeed arc always the purest and noblest, a fondness for metaphor and parable, which are all Oriental-Jewish traits. He is the ideal hero who has undergone struggles that excite our interest, and we cannot help loving and honoring him.

Next to Nathan stands Saladin, not the historic warrior, but the man in his family relations with a nature more adapted to action than to contemplation. The historic Saladin was a strict Mussulman who looked upon war against the Crusaders as his life-mission. For these his natural foes he cherished an implacable hatred. He was ever true to his word, ever kept &ith with the Christians though they betrayed him again and again. Brave and intrepid by nature he was yet a peace-loving man who rose

372 8. PRIMER.

above his environments and showed himself magnanimous alike to friend and foe. His self-abnegation was great^ for at the height of power he felt no desire for mere show and magnifioenoe, but was plain and simple in his daily life. Boccaccio had already made him a traditional hero and the Middle Ages crowned him with a halo of glory. But little was left for Lessing to do. He has idealized in him imperial greatness, noble sentiments, magnanimity and liberality. For he looks upon nobility as something akin to himself, there- fore the genuine disinterestedness of the Dervish, the pro- found wisdom of Nathan, the knightly heroism of Richard the Lion-hearted create no envy, no malice, no surprise in him ; for they seem to him only natural. In fact he would have been more surprised at their absence.

Sittah, the sister of Saladin, serves the poet as a foil to set off the excellent qualities of her brother. She is not so tolerant as he and perhaps for that very reason sees Christians and Jews in a truer light, though not unmixed with prejudice. She accuses the Christians of intolerance and a departure from the pure doctrine of their founder. Nor are the Jews less repugnant to her, not so much on account of their pride in their faith as for their avarice and cowardice. It is she who contrives the plan to catch the Jew ; it is she who has Recha brought to the palace so that the Jew could not possibly spirit her away from the Templar. She shows the natural curiosity of the human race in trying to pry into the secret conversation between her brother and Nathan, and in wishing to see Recha whom the Templar loves. She takes an impor- tant part in the action of the drama, especially in the intrigues. She loves her brother above all things and forms in various ways his complement. He sees things on a grand scale, she in miniature, hence she is often more accurate in her know- ledge of men than he. Where one is weak the other is strong, where he is lavish she is economical. Prudence and cunning are her virtues and we miss in her the individual truth of

LESSIKG'b NATHAN THE WISE. 373

a real poetic character. Like her brother she is historical, though history barely mentions her.

By birth and name only does the Templar appear as a Christian. The child of Saladin's brother Assad and a Stauf- fen lady who had gone on the Crusades, brought up by his uncle who was a templar, aroused to action by the latter^s tales and the information that his father was an Oriental who had returned home with his mother, he enlists in the Crusades in the order of the Templars, though little convinced of the truth of Christianity. The contradictions in his character are so striking that it will require much reflection to bring the special features into harmony. The predominant trait is the vein of deep melancholy which gives a serious earnest- ness to his every act. The disharmony in his character and his discontent spring partly from his early training and partly from his recent experiences among the Templars, as Christian and as prisoner in the hands of Saladin. He represents the transition state on his passage from a belief in a positive religion through disbelief to Lessing's third stage, to Nathan's standard. He has found that no one belief is infallible, but has not yet discovered that there is alwa}^ wheat in the chaff, none so bad as to be utterly condemned. At the very end of the drama he still appears distrustful and has to pass through a struggle to renounce his passionate love and accept Recha as sister. Even then the disharmony fermenting in his inner and outer life is but slowly removed. However, as a member of the house of Saladin, when his dreams had become more than dreams, he at last saw life* in its true light. His strik- ing physical resemblance to Assad, his father, is deepened by his striking resemblance in all the qualities of his character. Nathan represents wise old age, Saladin matured manhood, Curd (the Templar) immature youth, which, like fresh muslj must ferment and foam and by long fermentation become purified.

The most fragrant flower of the whole poem is Recha. In her simple, cheerful nature all the virtues of a maiden's pure 9

374 8. PRIMEB.

heart blossom. How tenderly she loves her father, what thankful love she bears for Daja ! Many features of Recha are taken from Malchen Konig, Lessing's stepdaughter^ who had a deep love for her stepfather and who was educated by him as carefully as Recha by Nathan. The latter is what Nathan made of her a susceptible and pure soul which a wise and just education has taught self-abnegation and love. She lived in her father ; he was her world, her faith, her home. She is tender without being weakly, sentimental, intellectual and cultivated without being a bluestocking. Nathan, how- ever, is not her only instructor. Daja, the Christian widow, the nurse, planted many seeds in her receptive mind and they also brought forth fruit of another kind. On the one hand we find philosophy and reason, on the other wild fancy and belief in angels, legends, the fanciful side of life. She belongs to the poetic figures of the German literature, whose presence can be felt rather than described. Like Goethe's M ignon in Wilhelm Meister and Schiller's Thekia in Wallenstein she is a concrete though idealized form of flesh and blood. But never- theless she is as it were surrounded by a glamour and seems to us a friendly fairy form which enchants us all the more. Rarely do we catch glimpses of such beings in the world's literature and yet Germany has given us three, Recha, Mignon, Thekia. As sister of the Templar and niece of Saladin, adopted and brought up by Nathan, she forms a convenient center about which all the separate interests of race and religion converge, being of, and yet belonging exclusively to, neither of the three races or religions.

Of our second group, the Patriarch naturally stands at the head and is an excellent pattern of priestly thirst for power; he has also departed farthest from the doctrines which Christ came on earth to preach, not having the least trace of that meekness and gentleness which forms an essential element of a Christian character. He enjoys life in the fullest, but be- lieves in the dogmatic infallibility of the Church. It has been said that Pastor Goeze, Lessing's bitter opponent in his contro-

LESSING^S NATHAN THE WISE. 375

versy occasioned by the publication of the fragments, is intended to be represented by the Patriarch, but nothing could be farther from the mark. There may be a few thrusts at Qoeze, but the character as a whole is far different, too opposite to be modelled after him. It is the portrait of what a true Christian should not be. Instead of self-abnegation we have self-aggrandize- ment with all its worldly lusts. No feeling of humanity reigns in his breast. While demanding blind submission from others he seeks to draw profit from everything. Faith is for him a subservient means of power, a pliant tool for satisfying his ambition to rule. Though by nature intolerant and fanatical he is himself only a too willing subject, yielding servilely to every dangerous power, even when it is repugnant to him ; creeping where he thinks it will advance his interests.

The character is historical. At the time when Saladin captured Jerusalem the reigning Patriarch was Heradius. Of course he was sent away with the other Christians instead of remaining in the city as represented in our drama, but Lessing ever changed facts to suit his purpose. This Her- adius was a notorious character and very much worse than Lessing has painted him in the drama. He thinks of every- thing else rather than of the welfare of the souls entrusted to him. He was a politician of the worst stamp. Treason and murder are not only legitimate means with him, but become a duty when the priest says that it is for the honor of God. It was no matter to him how kind the Jew may have been to his adopted daughter Recha ; if he had taught her no dogma nor positive religion, then he must burn at the stake. Rather a false belief than no belief. He will show how dangerous it is to the state when anyone may have no belief. So preached Goeze in the controversy. He is a priest, an ecclesiastical prince, but not a Christian. He represents rather the office of High Priest, or Egyptian Hierophant, or the priests of the Middle Ages, who have mostly been opponents of humanity and pure religion. He is "a bigot in whose eyes the interests of humanity are over- shadowed, or rather extinguished, by those of his Church and

376 8. PRIMEB.

hierarchy." Without this character Lessing could not have done justice to the fundamental idea of his poem. We under- stand the power of a moral principle best when we " see not only men whose lives it sways, but men who are controlled by its opposite." He takes but little part in the play, though serving to bring out this fundamental idea. Fr. Theo. Vischer (Aesth. Ill, 1, 430) says: **The Patriarch should have gone to extremes, the Templar should have appeared at the most exciting moment of the danger to rescue Nathan and thus have completed his elevation above the darkness of prejudice ; then the drama might have ended well, only not in the discovery that the lovers were brother and sister." But this would have been contrary to the whole tone of the drama which is intended to show true tolerance triumphing over intolerance and arro- gance by quiet, peaceful means.

In Daja we have an example of sancta simplicitas, that narrow piety which becomes dangerous in cunning hands. Firm in her l)elief she overlooks the genuine kernel of reli- gion in the form which excites her imagination and produces the frenzy of fanaticism. She is the widow of a noble squire, a Swiss, who was drowned with the emperor Frederick Bar- baroesa on the 10th of June, 1190. Nathan took her as com- panion to Recha, probably bcKSiuse the old nurse had sickened. Soon after Daja's arrival the latter died, but not before she had disclosed the secret of Recha's birth, though it is a mys- tery where the nurse could have found it out. According to this account Daja could not have been more than a year in the house of Nathan when our drama opens ; and yet the refer- ences to her indicate a longer service in Nathan's family. There is no way of reconciling these discrepancies without assuming that Lessing intended to discard the old nurse and make Daja's service with him ext<}iid over the whole eighteen years of Recha's life, or else he forgot to distinguish between the two i)ersoiis and applied words to Daja which belonged to the nurse.

LESSING'b NATHAN THE WIBE. 377

Anxious for the welfare of her foster-child's soul she is constantly urging Nathan to make good his great sin of keep- ing his daughter from the true &ith. She does not consider what a noble woman Eecha has become under the instruction of Nathan ; she only sees a Christian child in the hands of a Jew. Nathan had been led to his high standard of faith by the loss of his family, had blessed the chance which had brought him Recha as a charge, and now the intrigues of the well-intentioned Daja were to put to the truest test what reason and long contemplation had ripened in his mind and made a part of his being. One object of the drama is to show us principles in action ; and thus Daja in a sense becomes the motive principle in it, as she by intrigue, by confusing the Templar, and arousing his dormant distrust and setting in action his impetuous nature, applies the power that moves the whole action. She plays also the effective part of an exqui- sitely comical duefia, and '^ could ill be spared in the economy of the drama."

In the naturalistic group we have two characters which show different phases of that simple, natural worship of God. The cloisterbrother came to the East as squire, but after serv- ing many masters he finally left the tumult of war for the cloister, .devoting himself entirely to the worship of God, to which his pious nature inclined him. Robbed and taken prisoner by Arabian marauders, he managed to escape and fled to Jerusalem into the cloister of the Patriarch who promised him the first free hermit's cell on Mt. Tabor, Everything unworthy or wrong was repugnant to his upright soul. Though ever obedient to his oath, he realizes that there are bounds to his obedience, and he keeps back the knowledge that Nathan has a Christian child. What he really lacks is the knowledge of the world which makes one live and work for his own and others' good. Like the Dervish his leaning is to naturalism which drives him out of the world ; but the Dervish easily gives himself up to pure contemplation; with the latter it is pure, simple, joyous

378 8. PRIMER.

renunciation in which the soul feels the full force of its free- dom from worldly care while with the former it is chiefly humility and the feeling that he is too weak to co[)e with the complex difficulties of tlie world. Instead of self-abnegation we find self-disparagement, though he is by no means stupid and knows how to carry out the dishonest commands so honestly that they never do any harm. He sees a brother in everylKxly and represents the Publican in Christ's parable while the Patriarch represents the Pharisee; in the parable of the Good Samaritan he represents the Good Samaritan and the Patriarch the priest and levite. He is one of the poor in spirit to whom the kingdom of heaven belongs. By some he is called the true representative of Christianity in the drama and probably comes nearer the standard than any of the other repre:5entatives. He certainly has childlike sim- plicity, and all the qualities which go to make up a true Christian character. It is one of the most lovely personages liCssing has sketched for us ; and yet the childlike simplicity, the childlike cunning forms a comical contrast to the priestly, Jesuitical Patriarch.

The Dervish is so little an adherent of the doctrine of Muhammed that he has been a follower of the Parsees. He ap{)cars to us as the son of pure, unmixt nature, which, as it is manifested in this character, forms a remarkable contrast to those artificial relations on which the social system actually rests. In the awkward cynic, Al Hafi, I^icssing's friends recog- nize the (r(H} copy of a Berlin excentricity, Abram WulfF, the secretary of Aanm Meyer. He was considered the greatest mathematical genius of the day, who, however, had no idea of the world and its relations. He was also an excellent chess- player and this chanwjteristic has been skilfully brought out in the; drama. Lessing had great resjxict for him on account of his piety and natural cynicism. The temptation was too great; he was introduc^nl into the drama in the perscm of the Dervish as the unfortunate treasurer and chess-critic where he cuts a most wonderful figure. He has free entrance to his

LBBSma's NATHAN THE WISE. 379

friend Nathan's house, and preaches undisturbed his principles of cynic philosophy in grotesque words. The name is well chosen, Al Hafi, " The Barefooted," which Lessing found in his study of Oriental life and customs. Here, also, he found those proverbial sayings on everyday life, morality and wit, which he puts into Al Hafi's mouth.

In the Dervish we have the view of the el^iast of the eighteenth century, "a true man must be far from men." Our Dervish longs for the Utopian ideal of an unadulterated condition of innocency and primitive nature. The modern Frenchman or the German catches this shadowy something on the Alps or in the still valley ; but our light and barefooted Dervish seeks to find salvation among the naturalistic Parsees in the hot sands of the desert where the Ghebres dwell as pure beings of nature and serve Grod. Hence his cry : " On the Ganges, on the Ganges only do we find men."

Sylvester Primer.

PUBLICATIONS

OF THE

MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION OF AMERICA,

1893.

(Vol. vin, 4.) New Berieb, Vol. I, 4

VIII.— AN APOCRYPHAL LETTER OF ST. AUGUS- TINE TO CYRIL AND A LIFE OF ST. JEROME, TRANSLATED INTO DANISH. CODEX REGIUS 1586, 4to, GL. KONG. 8AML., COPENHAGEN. EDITED WITH AN INTRODUCTION, AND A GLOSSARY OF THE PROPER NAMES AND THE OBSOLETE WORDS AND FORMS.

The MS. from which the following exta^cts are taken is a beautiful vellum codex^ substantially bound in dark red stamped morocco leather^ with plain brass clasps, numbered 1586, 4to, Gl. Kong. Saml. (Old Royal Collection). It was written in 1488, at Mariager Cloister, near Aarhus in Jutland, by a monk residing there named Niels Morgensen, by order of the Prioress, Elizabeth Herman's daughter, as we are informed at the end of each part. It is the only text known. It con- tains, in addition to the portions now published, which form the second and fourth parts respectively, (I) A letter from St. Eusebius to Domacius, Bishop of Portuci, and Theodosius, a Roman Senator, announcing the death of St. Jerome, (III) CyriPs reply to St Augustine's letter, and (V) A Life of St. Katharine of Siena, which last comprises almost a third of

381

382 J>. K. DODGE.

the whole. The MS. contains 153} folios, or 307 pages, dis- tributed as follows :

I. fol. 1-46 b. 93 chapters. II. " 47 ar-56 a and 6 lines on fol. 56 b. 20 chapters.

III. " 56b-101a. 58 chapters.

IV. " 101b-106b. 6 chapters.

V. " 107 ar-154 a. 46 chapters. The last page is un- numbered.

The codex was first carefully described by John Erichseu in his View of the old MS. collection in the great Royal USbrairy^ where it is characterized as '^ an exceedingly remarkable book for the study of the Danish Language . . . ., especially when attention is paid to the Latin originals, from which these trans- lations were made, in order to be the more certain of the real meaning of the Danish words " (p. 23). The next important reference occurs in the prefece to Chr. Molbech's edition of the oldest Danish translation of the Bible,' where our transla- tion is given the palm for the purity of its language and the knowledge of Latin displayed by its writer. In the pre&oe to the second edition of his Danish Dictionary, Molbech again refers to the language of the MS. and gives a very brief extract from the Life of Jerome, as &r as I have been able to discover, the earliest printed extract. There is also a reference to the codex in N. M. Petersen's History of Danish Literature,^ in which the Life of Jerome is not mentioned, and in P. Hansen's^ popular work on the same subject, where a short extract from the Life of St. Katharine is given, without any attempt at dip- lomatic accuracy. The best testimony, however, to the value

^ Udgigt over den Oamie Manuacnpt Samling i del store KongeUge BibUotkek, Af John Erichsen. Ejebenhavn, 1786.

*Den oeldete danske Bibd OveraceUeUe, Udg. af G. Molbech. Ejebeahavn, 1828.

^Dansk lAteratw Historie, Af N. M. Petersen. 2 den Udg. Copenhagen, 1878. VoL I, p. 78.

^lUuetrerel dansk LUeratwr Higtorie. Af P. Hansen. Copenhagen, 1889.

MS. 1686, 4to, ol. kono. sahl. 383

oi the MS. to students of the Danish language, is contained in the many references to it occurring in Molbech's Olosmriumf the glossary to hin edition of the Bible, referred to above, Den Danske Itiimkr0nike, and Henrik Harpestreng's Danske I/xge- boQy and in Kalkar's Dictionary ^^ now in course of publication. Although Molbech's references often lack the accuracy of tran- scription so especially important in the case of an unpublished unique MS., as has been pointed out, Mod. Lang. Notes, ly, 5, they show a laborious study of original sources that reflects credit on the editor's skill and thoroughness as a lexicographer. In his invaluable Old Danish Reader,^ the late Rev. Dr. C. J. Brandt devoted twelve and a half pages to extracts from the different parts of our codex, to which is prefixed a very brief account of its contents. In accordance with the general plan of the work, these extracts, dating from a period later than the middle of the fifteenth century, are printed without reference to the abbreviations occurring in the MS. and with a partially normalized spelling, especially in the case of u, v, w and the frequent arbitrary doubling of consonants. The variations given by me do not include these intentional differences of read- ing, but merely such differences as seem to have arisen from carelessness either of transcription or proof-reading, from which the most careful work is never entirely free. Brandt's selec- tions, which, for no apparent reason, do not follow the order of the original, consist of chap. 1 complete of OyrU's Letter, the first three chapters of Augustine^s Letter, the third being given incompletely, portions of chaps. 80-87 inclusive of Eusebiuff Letter and the first three chapters of the Life of Jerome; of the Life of St. Katharine, the latter half of chap. 10 and the whole of chaps. 17 and 38. These details are given here as the omissions are not indicated in the Iteader,^snd no hint of them is afforded by the context.

^Ordbog til deicddre danske sproginOO-llOO), Af Otto K«lkar. Copen- hagen, 1881.

*OammddaTuk LceaAog, En Handbog i vor oMrt lAHeratuit pa ModtnmSitL Af C. J. Brandt. Ejebenhavn, 1857.

384 p. R. DODGE.

In the preface to his Danish Cloister Beading^ Brandt refers again to the Manager MS.^ expressing the hope that '' if time and circumstanoes permit me to execute the plan, this collection shall include what remains of religious literature from cloister times in Denmark that has not yet been published." In the list of such works given by him our codex was included. Unfortunately Brandt was prevented from carrying out this admirable plan, and now that the final preventer Death has interfered, a small portion of the labor may with perfect pro- priety be undertaken by a less practised hand. As it is my intention at some future time to publish the whole MS., I shall content myself for the present with a very brief introduction, giving merely such facts as are of special importance. The question of the Latin influence, for example, is left almost entirely untouched. In his review of Molbech's edition of the Bible translation, Bask complains of the insufficiency of the editor's introduction in this very particular. It seems to me best to defer the consideration of this aspect of our MS. until it can be made to include the whole, and then to compare it with the Latin element in the translation of the Bible. The same applies to the glossary, which in the present attempt is limited to such words as no longer occur in modem Danish or have vitally changed their form or meaning.

A word with r^ard to the Scandinavian cloisters of the fifteenth century may not be out of place before considering the peculiarities of the MS. This is the more desirable as the influence of the monks upon the Danish language wtis very considerable during this period. The principal order of monks and nuns was that of St. Bridget, or Birgitte, its first cloister being founded in Vadstena, or Wadstena, in Sweden in 1368, and containing a residence for both monks and nuns. From Vadstena missionaries were sent out over Europe, and founded sister convents, the largest ones in Denmark being Maribo, founded in 1417, Manager, probably between 1400 and 1420,

^Datifk KloBttrlcuning fra Midddcddertn, Udg. af C. J. Brandt Kjeben- havn, 1865.

lis. 1586^ 4to^ ol. kono. samu 386

and Maristed or Saeby Cloister, oonoeming the connection of the latter of which with the Swedish order there is some doubt. At about the same time several settlements were made in Nor- way, the retreat at Bergen being changed from a Benedictine order to one of St Bridget.

As a consequence of the intimate religious connection exist- ing between these three Northern peoples, a new Scandinavian dialect, the so-called Ungua BrigUtina, or Birgittineraprogety arose, the chief element of which was Swedish, with an inter- mixture of Danish and Norw^ian, yeajing in d^ree according to the country in which it was used. As to the lasting influence of this bastard Scandinavian tongue upon the Danish language, I am inclined to believe that it was very slight, if its effects can be traced at all in the later stages. Some specimens of the Imgua BrigUtina are given by Brandt in his Reader , of which the first, the r^ulations of the Vadstena Cloister, p. 93, may be taken as a good example. Reference to the cloister itself may be found in N. M. Petersen's Dansk LUeratur Histories 2nd ed., vol. i, p. 83.

Although copied at least, if not actually translated, in the Birgittiner Cloister of Manager, by one of its brothers, our codex may be regarded as one of the purest specimens of Dan- ish preserved from the fifteenth century. The chief foreign influence to be observed in it is from the Latin original, while the Swedish element is very slight. This latter is undoubtedly due partly to the comparative lateness of its production, partly to the circumstance of its having been written by a Dane, as the name implies, for Danes, and without the influence of a Swedish original.

The handwriting of the Mariager Codex is round and legible. The initial capitals in the headings of chapters are elaborately formed and tastefully decorated in red and blue, and occupy five lines. Red ink is freely used throughout the text, both in the Latin headings and endings, in the crossing of capital letters and for simple purposes of ornament. The frequent red dots sprinkled over the pages seem to serve no practical purpose of

386 D. K. DODGE.

punctuation, but are employed merely for the same ornamental purpose. Corrections and erasures occur very seldom, although tiiere is one long marginal insertion on tiie first page, written in an inferior hand and with a darker ink, and several others occur in the lije of St. Katharine.

The use of capitals is quite arbitrary as r^ards proper names, the same name often occurring on the same page both with a large and small initial. One exception, however, is Chri^ua, which is in every case but one written with a capital, whereas gudh {Ovd = God) is found quite as frequently with the one as with the other. The first word of every sentence b^ns consistently with a capital, in spite of the absence of punctua- tion marks, and frequently relative clauses, too. As a rule the capital letters are distinguished by a i*ed line drawn through tiiem, but tiiis does not apply in all cases. It is occasionally difficult to determine whether the o be a capital or a small letter, especially when occurring in the conjunction oc. In doubtful cases I have been guided by the construction and the general tendency of the orthography. No cases were noticed of a common noun, occurring in the body of a sentence, written with an initial capital, as one would naturally expect from tiie great confusion in the spelling of proper names.

The abbreviations are for the most part simple and easy to expand, rarely including more than two letters. The only longer abbreviations in the two parts published here are ChriatOy Jhesus, Jherusalem and 8anct^l8. The commonest abbreviations are those of er and re, which are formed some- what like a German d, the line being curved down to distin- guish re; n and m are both indicated by a curve over the preceding letter, m by a sign resembling J, ro by an o above the line, et and eth by a sign resembling z. Final 8 is furtiiermore distinguished from initial and medial «, by a sign resembling a capital B, slanted to the left. The occurrence of abbrevia- tions is quite as arbitrary as the use of capitals with proper names ; the same word often occurring in the same line both with and without indicated letters. Haanuniy however, the

US. 1586^ 4X0^ GL. KONG. 8AKL. 387

dative of the third personal pronoun masculine, occurs almost invariably in an abbreviated form, and er and re are seldom found written out in full. Some pages of the MS., further- more, show a freer use of abbreviations than others, without, however, any apparent reason.

With regard to the orthography of the MS., little can be said except that it is no worse than that of other MSS. from the same and from even a still later period. Indeed, the early editions of Holberg's comedies are by no means models of spelling. As Lyngby^ has pointed out, this orthographical confusion in Danish of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries is due to several causes, the most important being undoubtedly the many phonetic changes by which the banning of the period is distinguished. This is especially true of the letters i and d. The piling up of consonants, however, numerous instances of which occur in this text, is to be explained solely by the bad taste of the scribes.

B^inning with the vowels, ee, e and as are oflen written interchangeably, though it should be noted that ee and <b sel- dom represent the open sound. Examples of confusion are er and OBTy asrce and asre (the plural of the verb, the noun being generally written (btcb), ce is sometimes doubled, as in Acs^, the first word oiAugusiin^B Letter . I and j are written inter- changeably for the vowel sound, which is also expressed by y (thy^= thi)y probably through the influence of German, in which the Danish sound oty would not be recognized as differing from that of i. V is generally written for initial u and to frequently for medial and final, as in vthi, gnotoethef nw.

The chief confusion in the writing of the consonants lies, as has been said before, in the occurrence of t and th^ the latter being written for ^, as in enesOie, akalthy dhoed, etc. So, too, dh for d, as in gvdh, Och is perhaps due to Swedish influence. As examples of the piling up of consonants may be noted : hffwetZy offweryftnredagaSy giffwer.

^Dansk og svenak liUercUur og sprog % anden halvdd of det 14dt ogidel ISde arhundred. Af E. J. Lyngbyy Ck>p., 1863.

388 D. K. DODQ£.

The phonetic differences between modem Danish and the language of our MS. as regards the vowel system are very slight indeed and hardly deserve mention. In all Danish writ- ings displaying a strong Swedish influence, and the majority of these are composed in the lingua BirffiUina, the more primitive Swedish vowel system asserts itself, especially in the use of a for the weaker e, but of this few traces have been noted in our codex. Notice, however, anthen for eivten.

The principal consonant differences are those that character- ize Old Danish, k, t, p final, instead of Modem Danish g, dy b. In fact, the transition from the one period to the other is most conveniently marked by this phonetic change. As examples we may take mik, met, lopp. Och, also found in the form oe, may be due to Swedish influence, as noted above, although it is more probable that it is merely a careless variation of the copyist. Examples of initial <<d may also be found, as toi < dogy tik <^dig, Tok, according to Lyngby, is changed from Old Norse \6y through Low German influence.

The obsolete forms occurring in the MS. will be found in the glossar}' and their consideration need not detain us here, especially as they present no peculiarities.

As has been said before, the consideration of the Latin ele- ment will be postponed until it can be made to include the whole MS. St. Augustine^s Letter can be found in Vol. 33 of Patrologice Oursus completuSy Latin series, column 1120 of the appendix. The Heading of the letter is slightly changed in the Danish version and the first four lines of the introduction are omitted. Throughout the translation there are minor omissions and some few additions. The division into chapters is not observed in the I^tin original of this letter, while it is in CyriPs reply.

Although no statement is made of the feet in any of the references to this MS., the Life ofjeronie is a fairly close trans- lation of his life contained in Jacob de Voragine's Legenda Aurea de litis Sanctorum. This collection was probably trans- lated in full somewhat earlier and by a different hand. Only

MS. 1586, 4tO^ GL. KONG. 8AML. 389

two fragments of this work^ portions of the lives of 8t. Cecilia and /Sis. Clemens, are preserved. These are reproduced in Brandt's Reader, pp. 202-207. The style is decidedly inferior to that of the translation of 1488^ being of ftbout the same quality as that of the Bible translation.

The division into chapters and the short Latin introduction and conclusion of the Life of Jerome seem to be original with the Danish translator, while a portion of the b^inning of the Latin story is omitted. The majority of the variations are due to the un&miL'arity of Danish readers with the objects described. Under this head Ml among others the following : "in arte''="I then boglig konst som kalles/' fol. 101 b; "som warse hedheuske msestherse/' 101 b, is inserted by the translator after "Cicero oc Tullius;" "sunmius 8acerdotis''="thet hd- gestse biskopsdom oc prestedom som ser pafiwedommeth/' 102 a; "heremu8''="0tken eller skoff/' 102 b; "8oorpione8''= "the ormse som kalles scorpiones/' 103 a. As in the Danish translation of Mandeville's Travels (1459) and many other Old Danish works, Ethiopicus is rendered by blaman, blaa being employed in Icelandic and Early Swedish in the sense of ' black.' In Henrik Harpestreng the name " Blamannse land," " Ethiopia " occurs. This use continues in Danish at least as late as the middle of the seventeenth century. "Potus" is rendered by " 0II," 102 b, by a method of specializing quite natural doubtless to a Danish monk of the fifteenth century.

A word in conclusion with regard to the rendering of the text. All abbreviations are Mrritten out, the omitted letters being indicated by italics. The arbitrary spelling and capi- talization of the MS. have in every instance been preserved and the absence of punctuation marks has also been left unchanged. In the glossary, the first occurrence only of each obsolete word or form is given, unless marked variations are noted. In some cases it has been found desirable to give the modem Danish form or equivalent and occasionally the Latin original. In addition to this glossary, there is a list of the names of persons and places, all foreign, occurring in the text.

390 D. K. DODGE.

in all their various fonns, grammatical and orthographical. They have in every case the Latin endings and the same is true of some few common nouns such as discipulas, epislolam, etc.

The brief Latin postscript by the translator to each letter was omitted by accident in the copy of the MS. made in Copenhagen and cannot therefore be given here. It simply states the date of the MS.^ and the name of its copyist and of the Prioress.

The footnotes to the MS. give the variations occurring in Brandt's transcriptions, contained in his Old Danish Reader. In the glossary, the letters K. and M. refer respectively to Kalkar's Ordbog and Molbech's Glossarium.

— . . Hteeer beghynnes sancti Augustini Biakope samdhebreff till

sanctum Cyrillum biskopp i jhfrii«rilem aff sancto Jeronimo Thet fonthe Capitell Hedherligh fadher Cjiille Thu skalth^ ej wmthe mik at thyse' Oc ey skalth thu wenthe mik at thale mei bamethnnghie stham- mendhe eUer som then man ther smitthet aer i syne' lippe Jeronimi lofTsom er ffii'ffuldheethe cnsteuthroes ^ kipmpe oc then helgesthe kirkee war modh- ers hfsmesteen I hwicken hwn war stadfesth mangelundhe Nw sanneligh er then samie stheen een skinnendhe stiernse i hemelriges asne Hymblene* friemthale gutz tere oc the gipininghe som gudh giorthe i bans helghe men lofTwe hannnm Skall sksellighe creaturse thiie gutz lofT men vskaellighe cr«atur» thioe icke Skall iek thise ell«* ihalse Om iek thier tha bywdet stenenie at ropee Jek skall thalie oc ey thiiae oc iek skall lofiwe then erlighe Jeronimum Oc en thogh at iek er een oweerdugh oc een yfulkommeligh lofTwerman Oc ey er lofTwen fagher i syndughe mantz mwndh Thogh skall iek ey allighewiell afflathe bans lofTThy skall war handh stadeligh skrifiwe oc war thunghe skall ey tilhsenghe gwmmen Thy ban er heligh alzbelgesth man Vndhfrligh oc fryckthendbe alle them som omkringh oas serse Han er sthcer oc megtugh i ihel helgesthe lofTwetz ofiwergbfcngeligsth helighet Han er sthoer i vsigeligb wisdoms dywpbeth Oc er nw megtugh i Fol. 47 b. sthornc lerens stborhetb Han er och || yndherligh i vbordhe iserteghne Han er rsedenthes for then mackth hannum er befaleth aff birren Thet andhrt Ca Ilvrse sthoer then lerefuldh Jeroni- mum er i syn offwergiengselistb helighet Hwnc kan myn thwnghe kung0re ihet man noghe< nier alle menneskes thwnghe orke ey ihel at the kunne vtbthrycke' bans weerdugbet Hannum sornmes well at kalles then andhen Samuel oc then andhen Johannes baptista i offwergaengelisth lefihetz helighet Helias oc iohannes herfmite thwingdhe ^ theris legbomnue met sthcer hwasbet

^skaU. *thia, ^aine, ^ two separate words.

* HembleruB, * uthtryeke, ' twingdhe.

MS. 1586^ 4to, ol. kono. saml. 391

j ' madb oc klaedher Then erefnldh Jeronimut war ey myfidne leffiiets here- mitffi Thy han sthoedh i 0tken iiij aar Och war enesthe Tskellighe dywrs Btalbrodher J XL aar drack han ej wiin eller nogher diyck th«r man kan wordhe drticken aff swa* som then hedherligsthe Ecuebii breff torn iek fik ferredagsB fallelighere oc bethre vtwisier Oc som tha selff wedsth bether ihet sams Aff all kethmadh oc fisk hiolth han sik Bwa aff at han willse nsep- peligh nseffiias them Oc ej aath han noghet sadhet ythen thwtennesynne i syn ythersthse sywgdom Han thwingthe sith leghorn som blaamantz koth i een harsseck oc ther ofiwen ofiwerskywfflthe ' han dk met etk slymmesthe kkedhse Aldrigh haffde han noghen andhen ssengh sen jordhen Ey aath han ythen een thiidh om daghen Aff fmckth eUer aff yrthebladhe eller aff rcKldher Efiiher afilhensangh gaff han sik till bene iher efKtter wag-

het han till then andhen thymse paa natthen^ Ther efilher Fol. 48 a. thrseth || oc modh aff seffwen soff han till mynnath Och i then

thymse sthoedh han vpp oc dwselthes swa alth till hans maal- thiidhes thynue j liesningh J * helgesthe Iserdhom oc skrtfilh aff hwicke all then heligh kirkse skin swa som aff dyrsefuldhe lamper Swa begrseieth han Isethesthe syndher the^ noghen matthe tsenckie hannum at haffwe dnepet nogher man The< iii Capitell Thryswer om daghen hwdstrogh han sith leghom met grwmme slagh swa at aff hans leghorn ytfl0the blotzstrsemed Oc naar han hordhe nogher fafaengh* ordh tha flydthe han them swa som 8t0rsthe sooth ^ Hannum^ war enghen liisae eller' orckel^shet Allethii- dhen 0ffweth han sik anthin i helghe Isesninghe eller skreff han eller oc Iserdhe Hwat skall iek merse sighe Ware Ihet swa at iek rantsagethe helghe msentz oc hwser sserdelis leffiieth tha pafynner iek enghen sth0rrer eller meg- tngher sn hannom the^ iek wsenther Thy msedhen jek kallethe hannum till fom at waere samuelem Tha will iek bewisse hannum at w«re samuelem Sanneligh han er then samuel som worth kalleth met slagh aff the fafsn- gelighe bogeligh konsthes offweisBB oc studeren oc bleff skicketh till then heligh sknfiihes vndherligh bethsegnelsse i hwes senlethes lywss aff gudeligh nadhes jndflydelsse tha see wii begghy testamentz lywss J hwes armz stierck-

het then st0r8the deell aff ksettherense esr atsparith Thet fierdhe Fol. 48 b. capitel Han omweendhe begghy testamenthet aff ebra= || iskee

thwnghe oc paa greske oc paa latinse oc skickethe them the som kommie efilher hannum till ewigthiidh oc forklarethe theris forthfeck- ninghm0rcken thwiwell oc knndhagtughet Han skickethe oc alle then heligh kirkens thienerse the helghe vii dags thiidhers embeth oc skickelse Han moxen vpbygdhe all then heligh kirkse Ther aff er han megtugh i vsigeligh wiisdoms grwndughet Swa fulkommeligh kunne han alle boglighe konsther at enghen sywffiies hans lighse len nw Aff then heligh skrifflh wisthe iek aldngh oc ey fomam nogher hans lighie som iek haffwer fulkommeligh befunneth i manghe hans ssendebrefiwes r0vel88e som han ssendhe till mik

H •ewo. ' written in two words. ^ncetten. *t.

^/ofoengh. ^9oeth, ^Hanum, 'ol^, evidently a misprint

392 D. K. DODGE.

Ebraiflke oc greske Caldeons pearia Medoria oc arabitorM oc noghet mer alle thwnghe oc boggher kanne han swa som han hafide wereth fodh oc Tpfo8threth i them Hwat skall iek mene sighe The thingh som jeronimiM wisthe icke i naturen them wisthe ey nogher man i nogher thjmse Hedher- ligsthe fadher ej akalth tha wenthe mik thette at sighse Swa at iek thiencker tik at withe aldeles endkihet aff hans lefiheth oc djgdh^r mten thu wasth hans Btalbrodher i langh thiidh Jek knefiwer gadh till witns At om iek wilde thiiae swa vsigeligh mantz heligheth tha githfr iek ey Hans vndher- ligtB geminghe beksendhe hymblense i hwicke han beer som megtngh er i

Bthorre seres sthorheth framfor manghe helghe maen Ther skall Fol. 49 a. enghen thwiffle paa The/ han ej fik eth aff the || sthaerne oc

h0frne saedhe jnnen gutz f adhere bolighe oc heem ElfUherthj at hwaer man tagher ther len efllhfr synae gaeminghe Oc han war jw fulkom- meligh i sith leffiiet Tha sywfihes ihet klarlighe at han er een aff the sthome och hoffrae then hemeiske ihemsalems borgherae Thy at han throes fulleligh aff 088 oc wisseligh at wserae then megtugher i wserdhen for alle som warth aldher mjnnes Han bewises meghet vndherligh i owanelighe vndher oc oaen- deligh iaert^nae som then hedhfrligh Easebiua forklareth mik nogher th«r aff i synae breffwe Aff the andhre vndher som ther wordher daglighe oc som iek jdhelik fangher at freghnae aff manghe maenneskes safiheth oc thalae oc iek gireligh atstwnder at horae bedher iek tik selff kseresthe fadher At thu wille sammensaetthe i een lithen bogh alle sannae joerthegnse oc nyttoghe ther aff oc saendhe mik them for samte saneti jeromini gudelighet ihet snaresthe thu kanth thet gone Thet V Capitell Ath saneti Jeromini waerdskyldha? ey sknlle ey dylies Tha will iek sighe hwat som met mik gutz mildhet g^ordhe paa hans dctz dagh oc i then samte thyma? som helgesthe jeronimua foer vth aff k0t8ens oraenlighetz kapie oc jndfiordhe sik ewyndeligh vdodelighetz oc vmsetheligh gledia klsedher Ther iek war i yponae i myn cellae oc hwilthes tha thaenckthe iek girlighe Hwredan acres oc gledis sthorhet ser i helghe

sieelse som gledia met Chn'slo oc iek atthraddhe at gore ther Fol. 49 b. aff een || litholl bogh for hedherligh seneri bonac som fordom

war saneti martini discipell som biskop war j thuronia Oc togh iek swa pen oc papiir oc wille skriffwe een epistolam oc saendebreff till Minetum jeronimum At han skulle lathe mik fanglie at witho? hwat som hannum syntis ther om Thy at iek wisthe ihet at iek ey kunne sanneligher laeres aff nogher leffwendhe man sen aff hannum j swa wanskeliglie spors- maall The/ vi. ca Ther iek skreff helsen i epistolerts begy/melsa? oc skulle skrtffwe jeronimum tha kom snarlighie jndli i cellen som iek war vthi with nathsangH thyma? eth vsigeligth Iwys som ey syntis forrae i war thiidh oc ey kan war thunghe fulleligh the/ kwngone me/ vsigeligh oc vhoreligh god- lucth Ther iek saw ihet tha worthe iek aldelia vndrendhe oc mosthe myn huflfes oc alle mynw lymmerres dygdhe J iek wisthe ey tha at gutz vndher- ligh hoghre handh haffdhe vph^ghe/ syn swien oc kwngiorthe hans dygdhae blantli falketh Jiek wisthe oc icke at gudh haffde skilth syn throo thiener with kotsens orsenlighet oc haffde reth hannum swa hofilh saethae j hemelen Jek wisthe ey the oransagelighe herrens weyee Jek wisthe ey oaendelighe gutz

MB. 1586, 4tO, GL. KONG. 8AML. 393

wiifldoms oc wittughetz ligghendefiee Oc ej wisthe iek the lenligse gats dommse Thy at them som han will lather ham kommse till mns wedherkttn- nelsae aff syn vsigeligh wiisdom Oc forthj at myne 0ghne aldrtgh sawe thelikth lyws oc myn nsessd hafide ey kipnth theligh Inckth thy Tndrethe iek aff swa nyth oc vlusrligth yndher Myne thancke toghe Fol. 50 a. till at buldhne i mik hwat || ihet skolle wane Thet vn. Capitell Aen resth hdrdhes tha aff lywseth oc saffdhe Augustine Augus- tine hwat atsper thu wenther thu tik at kunne 06« alth hafiwet i eth lidhet kar oc l0cke all wserdhens jordh i een lidhen ncfaswe oc speghe hemelen at han skall ey ganghe syn wanlighe gangh Skall thit eghe see som enghen menneekee eghe matthe see Skall thit one hone ihet som enghen ore hordhae Oc the thingh som msenneskes hiserthe ey forstodh oc ey thsenckthe Thu thaencker at thu kanth vndherstandhe hwat sendhse som ser paa osendeligh thiogh Hwre kant thu madhie the thingh som Tmsedeligh nne Snarer lyckes alth hafiEwith j eth thnengesthkar Snarer kan een lithel neefiwe holdhe all wserdhens jordh oc snarer oc heUer skall hemelen afflathie at rores jdelighe sn thu kanth vndherstandhe then myndhne deeU aff the gledhe oc ser» som helighe sieelse nythse oc hafiEwe fonrthen sendhse vthen thu fangher them at ronse swa som iek Thu skalth ey arbeydhe at gone vmogelighe thingh Maen thu skalth sen lopse een lithell thymae swa laenghae ihet thit liiJSs lopp er fulkommeth Haeaer skalt thu icke soghe aefiUier the thingh som ey kunnae andherstetz fynnes vthen thaer hwarth iek skyndher mik nw salighe till at ganghe Haeaer skalt thu atthra at gone thelighe gsemingae'at thu math hafiwe aldeles thaer the thingh ewyndeligh Hwicke thu astwndher at vnd- herstandhe haer nogherlwndia Hwo som ther gangher jndh han Fol. 50 b. skall || engeledis ganghe ther vth Thet Tm. Capit Alth ther till war iek swa raedaghe och haemsk oc swa goth som noghef naeaer aff sindhe aff swa vsigeligth vndher oc mozen mosthe iek all myn storcke Tha togh iek noghen dristughet aff thesse ordh oc saffde met skaelff- wendhe rosth Gndh gaffwe at thel war mik lofflikth at withe hwo thu aest som swa saligh oc aerefuldh aest Oc skyndher tik swa hedherlighe till thesse gledhae oc swa sothe wselthale thaler till mik Tha swarethe han Thu atspior mith naffn Jek er jeronimi sieell som war praesth ther som thu begynner at skrtffwe thet breff till Oc nw i thenne thymae afflagdhe iek kotzsens byrdhe i bethleem jode Oc chrtatus oc alth hemelrigia herskapp folgher mik oc iek er prydh met all fagherhet oc forlywseth aff alth skin Oc ifordh i vdodelighetz forgyllethft; klaedher oc er iek omklaedh met alle gledhae oc godhe thingh oc wandh seygher aff alle waertzlighe thingh Oc er iek kroneth met koninglighe kronse aff guldh oc dyne sthenae oc er omlagdh met all saligheth oc helighet oc gangher nw swa erefuUeligh oc saleligh till hemelrigia gledhae som ware skulle vthen aendhe Oc skall iek her efilher waentbe enghen glaedhes wanskels msen ogels Oc skall iek ighensoghes till legommeth paa then almaennelighe kotzsens vppstandelsae dagh Hwicketh leghom ther skall tha aerefuldh gores oc skall ey doo mene Msen then sere som iek haffwer Fol. 51 a. nw enestae || skall iek tha haffvre till sammen met leghommeth Thet IX ca Tha fik iek merae storckels till myn sieell oc for

394 D. E. DODGE.

gledhe ej afflodh iek at grathe oc swarethe hannum swa Oodh gaffwe at i matthe waerdugu at waere thjn thienene som swa erligh er i blanth andhre Men iek bethcr tik at thu stadeligh hafiwer mik thjn Bwm i thyn amjndela en togh at iek er aldenlTinmeBthe hwicken tha elskethe i werdhen mat meghei skserlighet at iek maa nmaes affsTndhen mei thyne bone oc ganghe i neth wejgh for thjn beskermelne oc ihel iek maa ihelses jdeligh affmjne owenner oc komme till salighetz haffii mei thjn heligh ledhelse Oodh gafiwe tbet thecketu thyn wilie at swane mik till noglMr spfinrsmaall Han swarcthe Hwat som thu wilth tha sper iek will swane tik met all wilie AnguatiniM saffde Jek wille withe Om helghe siele kunne wille nogher thingh som the icke kunne fanghe 8an«ti Jeronimi sieell swarethe Eth skalt thu withe augustine at helghe siele ere swa stadfesthe i gudh i then ewyndeligh ere at i them er enghen andhen wilie en gutz Thy the kunne enckthet andhd wUle en thet gudh will thy maa the fanghe hwat the wille Oc forthj hwat som helsth the wille ihet will gudh oc fulkommer Sanneligh enghen aff oes Bwighes aff syne beghertnghe thy at nogher aff oes ensker ej nogheC vthen

gudh Thy hafiwe wii gudh alle thidhe swa som wi wille Oc Fol. 51 b. ware atthraelse alle thidhe fulkommes Thet x Capitell. ||

Kaeresthe fadher Cyrille Thet wsere mik forlanghe ordh om alle the stycke skuUe scriffwes i thenne epistola som then heligh sieell kun- giorthe mik ther iek atspurdhe Thy at iek hopes thet iek skall komme till bethleem ey efilher maiighe aar met gutz helpp at S0ghe swa sthore helghe- dom hware thu skalt klarlighe then thiidh see the thingh iek haffwer horth oc skreffwethom hannum Oc swa bleff then erefoldh sieell hoess mik j fleie thyme j myn celle Oc kungiorthe mik then helgeste threfaldughetz eenlighet oc eenliglighetzsens threfaldughet Ocsonsensfadhelseafffadheren Octhen helighantz franghangels aff fadheren oc s0nnen Oc englene jerarthias oc skickelse oc there thienesthe Oc ther till helghe sieles salighet oc andhre n3rttelighe thingh som sware ere menneske at vndherstandhe Hwre sub- tilighe oc hwre klarlighe oc hwre vndherlige Iian kungiorthe mik them Bwa at thalethe iek met alle menneske thwnghe tha kunne iek ey vtthracke thesse thingh Oc ther efilher forswandh the< ly ws aff myne 0ghne Men ther efilher i manghe daghe ighen bleff then godhe luckthes sothet O hwre ▼ndherligh ban er Thy at ban g0r swa manghe ierthegne oc swa manghe 00 sthore nymere vndherligh oc owanelighe for menneske Thy skulle wii alle rope till hannum oc gledhe oc frogdhe oss oc gifiwe bans loff hedher oc

ere Thy at ban er werdugh all loff oc ey ere wii fulkommelighe FoL 52 a. oc fuUurtbne till at lofiwe hannum Thy at || ban jndgik j her-

reus bwss bwiidh skinnendhe och alzfegberstb Hware som ban fik erens ssedhe j the ofiwermere oc klarere werdugbete Hwicket iek (bmam en ighen aff flere withne en aff een Paa ihet at sandbetz lyws skall klarlighere oppenbares Tha thedhes oc sy wfihthes then fomefindhe hedher- ligh man senero som skinnendbes er i lerdhom oc wiisdom mei thre andhre men i thurone stadh pa then dagh oc thyme som sanetus JeronimiM bleff [ dtfdb then same sywffii ther iek saw Oc ther om bar ban selfiwer mik

[

MB. 1586^ 4tO, GL. KONG. 8AML. 39d

enesthe withnae ther han kom till mik Thd XL Capitell 1 8wa madhe wilde gadh At soneti Jeronimi hofiwe ene akolle ej Bkywffles for waeidhen At the 80III lUBthee at efiUiarfolghe hatis helighetx fodapor akolle withe at hast hafiuer ofiwergaengeligh tare Oc at andhre som see swa masighe oc swa stone l0n gifiwes hannum skalle tilfestes hans helighets oc dygdhers fodspor Thy »t l0nen8 hopp mjnaker arbeythetz bTidhie Then same dagh oc stwndh som th«A erefiildh JeronimiM d0dhe swa salighe tha thedhes han for aenero oc iii andhre met hannam i eyn sthoru tere hwicke iii men ware meth senero then thiidh i hans hws Senervx jaet the crtstne men ii aff them ware mwncke fordhom aff saneti martini closther Som the stodhe i godeligh thale h0rdhe the snarlighe i hemblene J weddreth oc paa iordhen ytha-

lighe rcttthe Oc swa alzsotesthe vsigelighe oc vhdrlighe oigene Fol. 52 b. oc tympene oc alle handhe seydhenspils lywdh || Swa at ther

aff Ijwfihtis hemelen oc iordhen och alle thingh Ijdhe hwert- stetz Aff hwicken 80thet hafide theris siele mozen ganghet aff theris leg- homme Tha bleffwe the alle yndrendhe oc lyfiUie theris 0ghne vpp till hemblene Ther the sawe hemelen oc alle the thingh som haldes i hemelens omgangh finghe the at see eth lyws lywfbynne klarer sen solens lyws oc ther aff Ttginghe alle serligesthe lacth Ther the sawe thesse vndherlighe thingh badhe the till gudh mel theris b0ne at Ihet matthe thees them hwi thelighe thingh giorthes Thet xii. Ga Tha kom een resth aff hemelen oc saffile Enghen vndher skall rore ether oc ey skall thet wsere ether yndherlicth ath i hore oc see thelighe thingh Thy at CArtstus herre som er koningh ofiuer alle koninghe oc hserre offerer alle them som herredom hafiwe kom i dagh gantzse hofithideligh emoth erefnllesthe jeronimi sieell som war i bethleem jade oc gik i dagh aff thenne skalkeligh wserdhen At han skall jndledhe henne i sith righe swa meghet hefilhideligher oc hedherlighene for andhre som hwn skin i wierdhen i h0fiwere och werdughere leffiieth I dagh gledis alle engle ordhene oc stath oc meth setesthe sangh sywngendhes ffslghe the theris herre J dagh Alle patriarchers oc propheters skare J dagh alle gutz apostlene oc disciplene koor J dagh Alle helghe Martires oc alle oonfessores J dagh then serefuldesth gutz modher met alle hennes helghe

iomfrwere J dagh Alle helghe siele fnsgdeligh oc gledeligh Fol. 53 a. m0the || the theris landhman oc borgher Oc ther thesse ordh

ware hordhe tha thigethe rosthen Men lywseth oc sanghen oc then godhe lacth blefiwe ighen i een thyme oc swa lothe the aff Kere fndher i swa madhe er ihet kwnnagth At han er een aff the hoffire oc 8th0rrer oc megtugher hemelske borgher Oc ther aff er han vndherligh oc megtagh oc omwell redendhes moxen offwer alle helge men for then mackth som hannam er gifiwet aff gudh The< xin. Ca ^nghen thwifiwell skall ther wsere paa At hwat han will ihet maa han swa fulf0lghe for andhre swa som hans wilie tilhengdhe gutz wilie mere sen andhre Enghen skall wenthe mik at wsere swa derff eller hafiwe swa sthoer dyserfiwelse At iek sigher thet oc samthycker At JeronimiM standher hdffie i seren sen Johannes baptista Om hwicken Jhesus her selfiwer withne at enghen stoeth

396 D. K. DODGE.

flt0rner Tpp sen ban Heller en petriM oc pauliM oc andline aff the zn ftposUa 8om ware vthwaldhe aff Chru^o och helgegiorthe Oc thogh men swa er thd enghen slnell forbywdhcr thet Tha dserfiwes iek nogherlwiidt« at sighe al han fik ej myndhne aare i hemelrigbie sen een aff them Nw maea iek syndher enghen skell hwj ihet skall wnre vloffligth at sighe Jeronimam at mtnt them lighe i eren nuen han war them lighie i lefifbets helighet Oc mam godh er ej personerse annamerse Men beekodher hwers saerdeles werd-

skjUeligse gserninghs oc gifiwer hwer som han forakyldlMr Fol. 53 b. ^r the< oc swa || at nogber tbcK^kes thet JeronimiM fik myndhre

ere en iohonnes baptista eller apostlene Oc sktfdber ban bans helighet oc bans skrifilbes werdbskjlleligbet oc begghie testamentee om- wendelsies hardhe oc sannesthe thingh Oc ackther klarligbe hwat fmeth i daghs tbidbes embeth oc orden er som ban loeth efither sik ej eneetbe nerfiwserendhe men oc them som tilkommendhe tare skall iek santh sighe oc withne tha wenther iek at then same domer sanetam jeronimum ej at were mjndbre i eren en the ere Tbe< mn. Capitell Nw at iek skall ey regimes at kasthe snare paa nogher till at gore leegb oc sknff afi mik i thet at iek witherkenner oc sigber sanctum jeronimum at were lighe johanni baptiste oc apostelene j hellighet oc ere Tha will iek eth sighe som iek saw i eth sywfin oc ey er en mi daghe sidhen At sandhetben skall ej skjwles oc ej at iek gar iliet for nogben legbomligb kerlighet aff hwicken man plejgber meest at fare wildh aff sandbetz weygs kennelse eller oc aff bufftens vfeniwf- tugbet eller aff nogben andben sagh Men skall withe at iek thel ej fik aUi ▼ndberstandbe aff nogher menneeke Men with oppenbarelse som godh giff- wer menneske thy at han er then som vppboffwer syne belghe men och megtugbgor them J then fierdbe nath nw nestb fremfarendhe tha thenck-

the iek gyreligh oc atthralighe Hwat iek skulle skrifiwe ^ ther Fol. 54 a. sanctue || Jeronimue kunne fanghe loff oc ere aff i eth stacketh

sendebreff Thy at iek acktethe tha at skrifiwe till tik then same epistolam Oc thenckthe hwat materie iek matthe paafyndbe som h0ffweligh kunne Wfere bans loff Ther midhie nath kom fall paa mik sdfih Oc een alderstarstbe eengleskare war hoess mik J blanth them ware ii men megbeC klarerer en solen Oc ware swa lighe oc eensskapthe at enghen skulle eller kunne sywffnes atskilnels i them met hwicken then ene kunne skilies fran then andben Vthen at then ene bar iii kroner paa sith hofiwe<h aff guldb oc dyrre stbene oc then andben bar ii Och the ware badhe klseddbe i aldberskynnendbe klare oc hwithe coUobiske kledber allestetz wefiwethe met guldb oc dyne stbene oc ware swa meghei faghre ath enghen kan thet besynne Oc swa ginghe the badhe sammen ner till mik oc stothe een litben thyme thysthe Ther efilher then som baffde the iii krantze thalethe till mik met thesse ordh Thet xy. Capitell Aygustine Thu thencker hwat loff thu skalt sighe aff jeronimo J sandbet thu bafilwer lenghe thet tiiencktb oc

^ Omitted in copying and inserted by the same hand.

MB. 1586, 4tO, OL. KONG. BAKU 397

tha wedsth ihet ey sen liafi wii komme badhe her till tik at wii skulle thee tik hans tare Thenne mjn stalbzodher som tha seer er jeronimus Oc swa 8om han war mik lighe i leffiieth oc hellighet swa er han mik oc lighe i eren i alle madhe Thet iek maa ihet formaa han Thet iek will the< will han

oc swa som iek seer gadh swa seer oc han oc kienner oc vndhfr- FoL 64 b. standher Oc therre \\ vthi er war oc alle helghe msentz hellighet

och sene Oc ey hafiwer een heligh man mens eller myndher Bsrm for then andhen Vthen swa meghet som han myndhro eller mens bespegler oc heskodher eller ksenner gutz skapels Then thredis krants som iek hafFwer mere sen han thei er marthels krone som iek sndhe mith liiff met Oc thy at han tholdhe i waerdhen n0dh - arfoeydh • syndhebethringh - vselhet - pyns-hwgh-forsmeelse oc andhre ganske hardhe thingh swa thoUeligh oc swa gledeligh for gntz skyldh Oc gleddie i syne sywgedome Thy er han een sandh martir och m0sthe ey marthels l0n Men forthy at han ey endhet sith liiff met swerdh tha hafiVrer han ey then krone som gifiwes till thelighe marthels thegn Och the ii andhre krantze wii hafiwe the giffwes enesthe jomfrwere oc kennefedhre at the sknlle atskilies for andhre Thet xyi Capi- tell Her till swarrethe iek som mik syntis Hwo est tha myn herre Han swarethe Jek er Johannes baptista som nedherfoer till tik at iek sknlle kan- gere tik jeronimi ere At tha skalth framdelee sighe falketh hans ere Thy at tha skalth withe at then hether oc werdaghet som g0res nogher helghene oc hwer serdeles oc besyndherligh the geres oc alle helghene Oc ey skalt tha thencke at i hemelrighe er nogher awindh swa som i werdhen Thy at

swa som i werdhen hwer menneske wUl heller forwere en Fol. 55 a. were vndhergifiwen Swa er icke i hemelrighe || for then vsige-

ligh kerlighet i hwicken helghe siele elske them jndbyrdis Hwer helghen gledte swa aff een andhens ere swa som aff syn eghen Oc omwell will hwer then som sthorre er och hwer then som myndher er sknlle were hannnm lighe oc en moxen sth0rre Thy at hans gledhe worthe syn gledhe Swa gledts then myndhre aff then sth0rres ere swa som han haffde then same ere Oc wiseligh han gaff en hannnm heller aff syn ere om thet ware loffligth fibrthy er hwers serdeles ere alle theris ere oc alle therte ere er hwers saerdelee ere Thet XVIL Capitell Ther thet^e war saffdh tha bortgik all then samlingh oc skare Oc swa worth iek vpwacth aff s0£[wen oc kenne snarlighe i mik swa sthoer kerlighetz brendelse som iek haffde nogherthiide f0rre kenth i mik Alth ther fraa oc swa alth till thenne thyme war ey i mik nogher awindtz eller hoff^ ferdnghetz eller rosels begherels eller thenckels Thy at gudh er withne som alle thingh weth f0r en the wordhe At ther aff war swa sthoer kerlighetz brennels vptheendh i mik at iek gledia mere aff een andhens gothe en aff mith eghet Mere atthraer iek at were yndher alle en ofiwer alle Thet^e saffde iek forthy jcke at iek skall fanghe loff ther fore Msen for thet at nogher skall ey thencke thette at haffwe wereth

^At end of the line, not foUowed by a hyphen.

2

398 D. K. DODGB.

faftengelighe dr0ixue aff bwicke wane hufiwe ofithe begaedces Ofite vppladhep

gadh syne Uinlighe thingh oc hielsth with astSn Thy sknlle FoL 55 b. wii ^ storlighe lofiwe then hefsthe || gadh i sjne helghe nuen

Oc Bkulle prisse bans gerninghe thy ey eer endhe paa theai Wii skulle oc sere oc lofiwe then helghe bore Jeronimum Thy ban giorthe megtughe thingh i sith leffhetA J dodben thogh ban Btbone thingh Ther for aer ban megtugh i blanth oc heligb oc h0fi* i b0fiBthe lefinetz helliglu< Oc megtugh helligb oc h0fi* i vsigeligb wiifldoms grwndaghet Oc aer nw megtugh oc heligb oc bofi* i stborre serens megtughet Vndberligb oc »refiildh oc loffligh j vndherlighe jsertbegnse som ey ferre sywfihtw ell«r bartbes eller ware wsenthe at gorit Han er frycktbendbe selakendbe oc bedbrendhe for then mackth oc ewyndeligh tere som bannum er gifiwen Thet XVIII Jek betb€r forthy at wii skuUe bedbre hannam oc ey thyse Thy ban er wKrdogber all lofi" Wii skulle kungore i blanth bans seres lofi* Man skall ey vndhre ther paa at wii loffwe then som gadh bafiwer swa megtugiorth Oc skall man ey ledbies at bedbre then som gadh will bedbre £y skall oc nogber wsenthe ihel ban g0r sancto iobanni baptiste eller apostlense orseth ther vthi at ban sigher Jeronimum wsere them lighe i sere oc helighet Oc then lofi* oc bedher oc wserdugbet som gores jeronimo afi* oss gores oc them bwser sserdelii Oc bedher oc lofi* som bwser therre serdelis bwn gores oc hannam Thet XIX ca Atthraer thu at hedhne sanctum johannem baptistam oc apostlense hedhne oc bannum Thy- ban er them lighse with

alle thingh fibrthy maa wii tbroggeligb sighe oc witberksemie Fol. 56 a. Jero = || nimum lighse at were sancto iobanni Oc ey Johannem

sthorrse Oc at engben er stborrser sen iobannes baptiata Thet witberksenne wii met all gudelighetb oc bedher Thy at gone wii oc sighe iohannem myndhne at wserae tha myntske wii jobannis sere oc gone tha bannum heller orseth sen wii lofiwse Thill tik bedberligh fadber Cyrille ssendber iek thenne samse myn yfomwnftugbetz tbales epistolam sen thog bwn er vfulkommeligh oc swa som encktbet ncgnendbes Thog ssendber iek benne till tik afi" pwrth hiserthe oc stboer gudeligb bwffiens attbraelse Thet XX Capitell Och bother iek tik at thu ey Iseser thesse ordb met skufi' eller spee msen met skyldugh kserligbetb Thy iek ssendber till tik then serefuldh Jeronimi lofi* afi* myn vkunnugbet Oc hwat som iek bafiwer myn- dbrse waerdskylleligbe sath sen mik burdbse thet skall ey regimes till swa megtugh een mantz lofi* msen till myn wankwndugbeth Oc at epistolsen er swa stacketh oc at bans lofi* er ey swa stboer thet er myn forwitbels oc for- sommelss oc owittughet Wlssoligb om alle dodeligbe msenneskes thwnghe enesthe framfordbe bans lofi* sen ware the myndhne sen som them bardbse Hedberligb fadber bafi* mik i thyn amyndels naar thu kommer paa thet stsedb som saneti Jeronimi legbom hwiles vthi oc befalse mik syndugh man bans bonser Thy ther er engben thwifiwell paa At hwat then sanue serligb Jeronimum onsker thet fangber ban snarl ighe Thy at ban ey swigbes nogb-

^ Inserted above the line.

i

MS. 1586, 4T0, ««. KONO. 8AML. 399

erledhes aflT sjn atthraa Nw er Bancti Aagmdni biaoope oc knnnefadhers ssendhebreff at endhse hwicketh ban asendbe scnido Cyrillo till som sercbe- biskopp war i JheruBtlem aff soneto Jeronimo annodomini MCDLXXxyin

Deo laiis et gloria

Her b^ynnes SanctiBsimi Jeronimi lleffiietb ^

Jeronimus bafide een edble oc friiboren man till fadber som beedb Ease- bias oc war fisdh j eth torpp som bedher Stride bwicketb som liggber boeas dalmaciam ocb pannoniam Tb«r ban war bam tba foer ban till Bom oc nam tb^ fulkommeligb bogb paa gretzskse latbinse oc jodske J tben bogligb konstb som kalles Gramatica war Donatns bans maestber J Betborica war Victortus bans miestber Msen dagb oc natb ofiwetbe ban sik i tben beligb skriffib oc ban begreepp gireligb thet som ban sidben foUeligb ksendbe ocb lierdbe andbre Een tbiidb ' som ban skrifiwer till eustocbiam i etb sendbe- brefr swa sigbendis Tber iek om dagben mel all jdb oc atwacktb studeretbe i tallio oc om nattben j platone som warse bedbenske msestbene forthj at propheteusR skrtfilb tbsecktbes icke mik tby bwn ej war piydetb Witb midbfastbe fik iek swa braadb oc beedb koldesywgbe at altb mitb ' legbom kolnetbffi oc enestbe war mitb liiffi wsermse i mitb brostb oc sen meghei litbet Tber tbe riddbe till at iordbe bannnm Tba drogs oc liddbes ban for domerens stooll Tba spardbe domeren bannom at oc saffile till sanctum

jeronimnm Hwes logb eller tbroo sest tba aff Tba beksendbe 102 a. ban sik friUigbse at were een cn'sten man || Dbomeren swar-

etbe strax oc safiSie Tba Ijwgber Tbu sest CyceronianiM oc ikke cn'sten man Thy at bwane som tbit liggbendefe e er ther er tbit bisertbffi Tba tbaffde jeronimus Oc strax bedh domeren nogb«r msen at tbe skalle swarligbe hwdstrygbe hannam Tba roptbe Jeronimus oc safifde Myskwndbe mik b^rre Myskundbse mik Tba badbe tbe for bannnm som omkrtngstodbe at domeren skalle g0re nadbe met hannam thy at ban war sn een vngh man Tba begynthe sanctas jeronimtw at swerise om gudh oc saffde Hserrse Hafiwer iek nogbertbiidh ^ biuSdb weerdzens b0gber eUer leesth i them till thenne dagb Tba neckther iek oc forswser iek them her efilher Ther ban thesse ordh baffde swareth oc sworeth vppa Tba worth ban gsenstben l008s oc fik till liiffs ighen oc fan sik alsammen ware ofiwer- gudhen oc belupetb met graadh Oc afT tbe slaff ban fik for domstbolen befan ban syne axlse rsedelighe blaa oc blodugbe Efilber then tbiidb Isestbe sanctu« jeronimua then beligb skrtfilb met stberne jdb oc atwacktb sen som ban bafide nogh«rthiidh * giorth tillfomse met the bedbenske bogber Th«r ban war xzx aar gammell tba worth ban skicketh till cardinaall oc prsesth j romerse kirkse Oc som pafiwe Liberios war dodh Tba rooppthe alle At

^ Line omitted by Brandt. ' tiidh.

• mit. * tiidh.

' Printed as two separate words by Brandt.

400 D. K. DODGE.

jeronimtM war werdagh till at haffwe oc annamae ihet helgestse biskop^- dom oc prestedom wm er paffwedommeth Men forthj at ha«i

102 b. straffethe somme klffirckes || oc mwnckes ksedbe tha ware the

hannam megbe^ vgynstaghe oc lawe i holdh ell«r aatthe aaath for hannam Oc swa met qwjnne klsedh^r som Johannes beleth sigher worth fuleligh skemmeth aff them Thy at een dagh th«r JeronimtM stodh Tpp till othesangli som ban pleygdbe at g^ne tha fan ban with syn 8Rngh een qutnnes kleedher hwicke ban thenckthe at wiere syne eghnse oc ferdhe aik i them som bans oweennerse oc affwintz men baffde ther lagdhe oc gik swa i kirken TheUe giordhe bans affwintzmsen forthy at man skuUe throo at baji hafide haffth een qwynne met sik i berberghe/ Ther ban the^ saw Tha foer ban thiedben oc kom till gregorium nasanzenum som tha war bisoopp i constantinopoli Och ther ban hafide nwmmeth then heligh skrifiih aff hannam tha foer ban borth i etken Msm hwre ^ meghe< ban tholdhe ther for Christo skrtfiwer ban till £ustochiam' oc sigher O hwre thith ther iek war j 0tken eller skoff* som forbnenth war aff* solens brynne i hwicken mwncke hafiwe rsedhelighe bolighe Tha meenthe iek at iek war i rem i lysteligbet oc kraeseligbetb Myne lymme som ware swa wanskapthe grw- wethe with secken ther iek war vthi som war mik hwas som iek baflUe wtereth een blaman Sthandbom ther seffn fall mik paa tha hafide iek

the nisghne been som neeppeligb kwnne well henghe till

103 a. hope paa then blothe jordh Om madh oc ell thigher jek || qwer

Thy at mith drtcke war kalth watn Men at thaghe noghe( ihet som saadhet er ihet regbnes till vkyskhet Oc ther iek i selskapp meth the orme som kalles scorpiones oc meth andhre grymme dywr Tha thyckthe mik ofilhe oc iek dantzethe met jomfrwer Oc swa war i thet koldhe leghorn oc balfideth enesthe vkyskhetz brynne Offlhe greth iek oc fastethe hele ▼gher 0fiwer oc spegthe mith leghom som striddbe emodh mik Thet dagh oc nath loeth iek ey afi* at slaa mith brysth ferre en gudh gafi* mik rolighet Oc swa fryctethe iek myn celle som hwn hafide wisth myne thancke Swa elendhe oc fremmeth gik iek ghenom thet ondhe 0tken At herren er mith witne swa at efilher meghen graadh sywfihtifl mik standhom thet iek war i engle skarer Ther ban swa i iiij aar hafide giorth ther syndhe betbringh Tha foer ban till iberiMalem oc swa till bethleem oc swa ofirethe ban sigh till at blifiwe ther hoess herrens krybbe oc hafide met sik syne b0gber sam* menbundhne hwicke ban met storstbe jdh och atwackth hafide sammen- sancketh Oc ther efilher ther ban thit kom tha lesthe ban ofiwer andhre b0gber oc fasted he aldeles till afthenen Manghe kenneswene oc discipulos sancketh ban ther oc arbey the i syn heligh forackth oc then heligh skrtfilz

omsettbelse oc omwendelse afi'gretzsk oc afi'bebraisk oc till 103 b. latine i Iv aar oc vj manethe oc blefi* jndh till bans || dedb

een ' kysk jomfrw Om sidher blefi* ban swa threeth oc m^dsom at ban icke kwnne rethe sik vpp i syn sengh vdhen ban hafide eth reepp *

^hura, * Eusiachiam, 'en. *reep.

IfB. 1586, 4tO, GL. KONG. 8AML. 401

bnndhen with bielken oc swa reestlue han sik ypp met hendheniss helpp paa thet at han wildhe gore klostherns eembith eflflher boiii han formatthe The/ andheth Capitell Een afiihen som BonetOB jeronimitt sadh mdh syne br0dhre oc h0rdhe Uesningh j then heligh sknfilh Tha kom anarlighe een l0ffwe lam oc halthendis oc gik jndh i dosterth Ther the andhre brodhre sawe henne tha flyddhe the borth Tha gik scmctUB jeronimiie emoth henne 8om han skulle haflfwe ganghe< emoth een gteeth Ther leffwen thedhe han- num fljn foedh som skadh war Tha kallethe sanctitt Jeronimue at brodhernse oc badhe them thwo hennes foddher oc 80ghe grangiffweligh hwar hwn saar war Ther the swa giordhe tha befiindhe the at jlen vndher fodhen war saar paa henne oc thet war giorth aff thoomaeetyngh oc swa r0cktethe the henne grangiffweligh oc hwn worth karsk ighen Oc ther efilher offwergaffhwn all grymheeth oc gik i klosterth blanth bredhemse som eth thampth dy wr Ther sanctue jeronimiM saw at^ gndh ey enesthe ssendhe henne till closthert for

syn karskheth ' oc helbredhe Msen merse for there gaffii Tha 104 a. meth syne brodhres raadh fick han loffwen thet sembeth at hwn ||

sknlle een asen som hsenthe them weth aff skoffwen folghe till marcken ther ban thog syn f^dhe oc thoghe hannum till wane Hwicketh ban' oc giorthe Thy ligherwiiss som een klogh hiordhe fuldhe loffwen aseneth alle thidhe till gresseth oc togh hannum alzsomgrangiffweligsth till warse Oc paa thet at lofiwen matthe fanghe syn fedhe oc at aseneth matthe gore sith embeth Tha kom hwn allethiidhe heem meih hannum i beskedhen thiidh Thet iij capi Een thiidh som aseneth gik oc aath oc loffwen soff hardeligh Tha komme koppmsen farendhes ther fram meth cameler oc sawe enesthe aseneth oc thoghe thet borth Ther loffwen wogneth ypp oc ey fan syn stalbrodher som war aseneth Tha l0pp hwn hidh oc thith* oc rothedhe Ther hwn kwnne icke findhe hannum tha gik hwn hiem jghen meghet droffweth oc thordhe ey ganghe jndh som hwn pleygdhe for blygsell Ther brodherne sawe at loffwen senerse kom heem sen hwn pleygdhe forrse tha meenthe the at hwn aff hwngher haffde aedeth aseneth vpp oc forthy wildhe the icke giffwe henne syn fodhe som the pleygdhe at gore Msen the saffde till hennse Gack borth oc aedh then deell som offwerlopp aff aseneth JSn tok thwifflethe the ther vppa om loffiren haffde giorth thet ondhe emoth

aseneth Oc ther forse ginghe the yth paa marcken hwar som Fol. 104 b. aseneth || pleygdhe at ganghe om the noghet dotz theghn kunne

findhe Ther the enckthet fundhse Tha komme the jghen oc saffde thet for saneto jeronimo Tha som sanctue jeronimiM both finghe the loffwen asnens aembeth oc hioghe wedh oc lagdhe paa loffwen oc thet embeth giorthe loffwen tholleligh Een dagh gik hwn Tth paa marcken oc lopp hiith oc thith oc wille widhe hwat aff hennes stalbrodher war bleffwet Tha saw hwn langtborth hwrelundhe ther komme kopmaen farendhes meth cameler som Isessethe ware oc aseneth gik forse them Thy at thet er therie

' Copyist's mistake for hwn, corrected by Brandt. * Uth,

402 D. K. DODGE*

ridhwane at naar the fane langh wejgh met cameler tha plejgher een asen at ganghe fone them at the thes nethene skulle findhe wejghen oc kwnne fylghe efilher oc aseneth hafiwer eth reepp om halsen Ther l^ffwen fomam aseneth tha fall hwn offwer them rophendes oc rydendis nedhelighe swa at folketh fljddhe borth oc swa dreff loffwen fone sigh the cameler som wane Isesethe jndh till closterth Thei I III. Ca Ther brodherne sawe thee tha kwngiorthe the ihet for saneto jeronimo oc ban swarethe Keere brodhre thwoer ware gsesthers foddher oc redher madh oc bidher swa efither guts wille Tha begjnthe l0ffwen som hwn war wan gladeligh at l0pe i clostereth

oc fall paa jordhen for hwser brodhers feddher ligherwiis som Fol. 105 a. hwn wUIe bedhes om || nadhe oc wevrethe eller rsrdhe stiier-

then for then bredhe hwn hafide icke giorth Maen scmetos jeronimtM som wisthe thesse thingh till foren saffde till hnsdhernie Bn^hre Gangher borth oc redher ware gsesther madh oc thert« wedherterfflh Ther han ihetle thalethe meth them tha kom eth badh till hannum oc saffde at ther ware gsesther for porthen som wille see abbethen Swa gik han till them oc the fiolle strax nedher paa iordhen for bans feddher oc badhe om nadhe for theris bredhe Tha vplifflhe han them wielwilleligh oc badh them taghe ighen ihet them tilhordhe oc ej oraettheligh taghe nogher andhers Tha badhe the sanetum jeronimnm at han skulle annamie for wiel- signelsse halffdelen aff theriff olise Hwicketh han naeppeligh wille g0re eller samth0cke Om sidher war Sanctus jeronimii« swa goth som nedher till och bddh them som ware bans klosthers bnsdhre at the skulle anname olien Tha loffwethe kopmeennene at the wille hwserth aar giffwe brod- heme then samse madhe me^ olyse oc sameledis there arffwinghe efilher them Thet V. Capitell Then thiidh sanghen i then heligh kirke war ej andherlwndu skicketh sen hwat som man l08the at Isese oc sjwnghe thet tiUsteddhes Thy badh Theodosius kejser paffwen som hedh Damasus At

han skulle befalee noghen wiiss oc klogh man till at skicke Fol. 105 b. smbethet i then heligh kirkse Tha wisthe || paffwen wsell

at Sanctus Jeronimiis war fulkommen i latins maall gretske oc jodskse oc i all wiisdom Thy befaldhe han Soncto jeronimo for dette smbeth at skicke Swa skuldhe Sanctus jeronimiM psalteren at till dag- hene oc skickethe hwser dagh sith egbe^ noctunue Oc ath Gloria patrt skuldhe sywngis geensthen efilher hwser psalm som sigiwertis sigher Ther efilher skickethe han epistolas oc ewangelia som om alth aareth skulle sywngis Oc alle andhre tingh som bore till same sembeth forrthen sanghen meghe^ skelleligh oc qwsemmeligh Oc ssendhe thet aff bethleem oc till paff- wen Hwicketh aff paffwen oc bans cardinaler worth strax stadfsesth fulkom- meligh oc till ewigth fulbordh Ther efilher begdhe han sik syn graff i then hwlfe i hwicken hserren law i krybben Han wort jordeth ther han war Izxx oc vui aar gammell Thet VI Ca J hwre sthoer hedher oc wserdughe^ Sanctus Augustiniis haffde sanctum jeronimum skriffwer han om oc sigher Jeronimut pressth kunnse thrennse maall som war llathinse Gretske oc jedhske oc lefide i eth heligth stsedh oc i then heligh skrtfilh till syn jdhersthe aeldherdom

MS. 1586, 4tO, GL. KONG. SAML. 403

Hwes lampie skindhe som solens skin fran osther oc till wnsther i bans thales etlehet Sonctut prosper Doctor thaler om hannam oc sigher Jeroni-

mua prasth bodhe i bethleem oc er forklareth for all wferdhen Fol, 106 a. Hwicken meth sith kosteligh nome oc studio eller iidh thieiithe||

oc Ypplywsthe all then heligh kirke Oc sigher sonctos jeroni- m«« om sik selff tUl albigensem ffor enghen thingh rsedhes iek swa sane fran mjn bamdom som for een hdffierdagh hwas eller sindh oc een ranck hals som vppwsecker gutz wredhe emodh xnennesken Sameledis raeddbes iek the thingh som thrjgghe ware Jtem J mith clostber acthedhe iek meth mith hiserthe paa gsesterii oc alle som komme till mik och mjnse bnadhre them annamethe wii meth bliith senleth ythen ksetthere Oc thwodhe theres feddher Vsodonw thaler oc om hannum oc sigher Jeronimos war wiis i tbrienne thunghe maal Hwess vttholkeUse eller vtheiettelsffi framsetthes oc lofiwes for andhres Thy at hwn er klarer i sindh oc i senss oc sandher tbj ban war een rseth crtsten man Senerut saneti martini discipell skrifiwer swa om hannum JeronimiM forvthen throens wserdskjldh och dygdhemes gaffwe war swa megtugh oc djer klserck ej enesthe i latinie oc gretske maen oc i jedske maall at enghen kwnne ligbnes with hannum i all wiisdom Han haflfde alletbidbe striidh emoth ondhe meenneske oc ewigth orloff kettberse hadethe hannum Thy at ban icke loedb aff at stridhe emoth them klserckense badethe hannum thy ban forfuldhe oc strafiethe therts lefiheth oc snydber

Men alle the som godhe ware vndrethe paa hannum oc selske- Fol. 106 b. the barmum || The som hannum safide at wsere een Esettber

the ware wistb galnse Thy ban alletbiidhe studerethe Alle- tbiidbe war ban i bcfghemse Dagb eller nath hwiltbes ban icke Msen lentben Itestbe ban eller skreff The<te sigher senerue Thet same bewiser ban selff ofilbe sigbendes Iek haffde manghe forfolgbere oc bagthalerse hwicke forf0lgelB8e hwre tbolleligb ban leedb the< bewises i seendbebreff som ban skreff till asellam oc saffde Iek thacker gudh at iek er wsrdugh wordben at wserdben forbadher mik Oc at iek sigbes een vgaemings man Thy iek weeth at iek maa komme till rigbet swa well meth wanfredh som met goth ryckthe Gudh gaffwe thet at alle throo menneskes skare matthe forfylgbe mik for myn bsrres nafih och rsethwiisbet Gudh gaffwe ihet thenne wserdhen wildhe fastberse oc merse ypstandbe mik till forwydelss at iek matthe loffwes aff Christo oc hopes till bans jaetbels l0en Thy at then frestelsae er thseckeligb oc atthneligb hwes leen man hopes till at fanghe i hemelrigbe aff Christo Icke er oc then bandhe eller forbandelse swaar hwicken som omwendbes till gutz loff Sanctissimus Jeronimus dodbe anno domtnt cocc aar.

404 D. K. DODGE.

I. Proper Names occurring in the MS.

A. — albigensem, 106 a; asellam^ 106 b; Augustinus^ 51 a, Augustiniy 47 a, Augustine, 50 a, Avgustine^ 54 a, augustine, 51 a.

B. — bethleem, 50 b.

C. — Christus, 52 b, christus, 50 b, Christo, 49 a ; constanti- nopoli, 102 b; Cyrillo, 56 a, Cyrillum, 47 a, Cyrille, 51 b.

D.— dalmaciam, 101 b; Damasus, 105 a; Donatus, 101 b.

E. — Eusebius, 49 a, Eusebii, 47 a; Eusebias (father of Jerome), 101 b; eustochium, 101 b.

G. — grc^orium nazanzenum, 102 b.

H.— Helias, 47 b.

J. — Jeronimus, 47 a, jeronimus, 49 a, Jeronimi, 51 a, jeronimi, 49 a, Jeronimum, 47 a, jeronimum, 49 b; Jherusalem, 56 a, jhcrusalem, 47 a, iherusalem, 103 a, iherusalems, 49 a; Jhesus, 53 a; Johannes baptista, 47 b, Johannes baptista, 53 a, iolianncs baptista, 53 b, iohannes here- mite, 47 bjohanni baptiste, 53 b, iohanni baptiste, 55 b, johannem baptistam, 55 b, Johannem, 56 a, iohannem, 56 a; jude, 50 b.

|L. — Liberius, 102 a.

M. — martini, 50 a.

P. — pannoniam, 101 b ; jmulus, 53 a ; petrus, 53 a ; platone, 101 b ; prosi^cr, 105 b.

R.— Rom, 101 b, rom, 102 6.

S. — samuel, 47 b, samuelem, 48 a ; Senenis, 52 a, seneri, 50 a, senero, 52 a ; sigiwertis, 105 b ; Strido, 101 b.

T. — ^Theodosius, 105 a ; thuronia, 49 b, thuronse, 52 a ; tullio, 101 b.

U. — Vsodorus, 106 a.

v.— Victorius, 101 b.

MB. 1586^ 4TOy GL. KONG. SAML. 405

II. Obsolete Wobds and Forms.

A. — Aff; 47 a^ in sense of om ' about; conoeming/ a common use until end of 15th cent. Allethiidhe, 104 a, aUid, ' always.' Here, as in several other adverbS; the dative ending -6 has been dropped in modern Danish. Alzomgrangifi^eligsth, 104 a, ' most carefully.* Alaom is frequently used in Old Danish as an intensive prefix. AmyndelS; 51 a, * memory.' AndherlundiS; 105 a^ anderledeSy 'otherwise.' This form

is not given by K. and M. Astwndher, 50 a, cupio, ' desire.' Atwackth; 47 a, ' diligence.' B. — Beskeden, 104 a, passende, * proper/ cf. Gterman Beacheid. Not as Brandt states bestemt, * fixed.' Bidher, 104 b, 6ier, ' abides.' D. — Dyserfiwelsae, 53 a, JDjervhedy * boldness.'

Dylies, 49 a, lateant. E.— Etlehet, 105 b, Eddhed, ' nobility.' F. — Forbade, 106 b, hadcy ' to hate,' now used only in p. p. forhadt, Freghnse, 49 a, intelligo. Fullurthne, 51 b, * complete.' F0rredagg8, 47 b, * recently.' G. — Ganghe, 50 a, gaa, * to go.'

Gaesterii, 106 a, Ocestfrihedy ' hospitality.' H. — Hannum, 47 a, ham, * him,' dative used as common ob- jective as late as 17th cent. Hwredan, 49 a, hvordan, ^ how.' Hwarth, 50 a, hvor^ * where.' Hsemsk, 50 b, pavore stwpens, ' terrified.' H0ff8Brdug, 106 a, hovmodigy * proud.' I._Iek, Jek, 47 a, jeg, ' I.' Cf. Ice, Ek, O. E. /*. Jlen, 103 b, ^ sole ' (of the foot). In M's reference to this . passage there are two slight orthographical errors.

IX.— NOTES ON THE LANGUAGE OF J. G. SCHOTTEL.

I.

Introductory.

In his collection of essays Von Luther bis Leasing,^ F. Kluge discusses at some length W. Scherer's proposition^ that Luther marks but a transition period in the history of the German language^ while the Modern High German period proper does not begin till the middle of the seventeenth century. I cannot find in Scherer's Oeaehichte der deiUschen Liiteratur snyihing so definite as to warrant Kluge's assertion that for Scherer "Schot- tel marks the beginning of the Modem High German period.^'* In the chronological tables^ the Modem High German period begins with the Peace of Westphalia, and after various works by Spec, Gryphius, Lauremberg, Logau, Angelus Silesius and Scriver, Schottel's Axi^Julirliehe Arbeit von der deutschen Haupt- sprache is mentioned, but it does not appear from this or from anything in the text of the volume, that Scherer intended to give Schottel anything like as prominent a place in this period as he had given Luther in the one immediately preceding. That the efforts of Schottel and other grammarians and purists of the seventeenth century contributed much to the wealth as well as the purity and r^ularity of the modern German language, there can be no doubt. It needs to be determined what SchottePs own share in this work was, what contributions he made to the vocabulary, what reforms he suggested, what position he took with reference to the reforms suggested by others, how far he understood the spirit of the language and the tendencies of its development. The present paper is intended as a step in this direction.

* Chap. Ill, pp. 32 ff.

*" Luther ist ihm der Hohepunkt^ das Kraftzentrum'der tfbergangtMeU — Schottel erofihet das Neuhochdeutsche.''

408

• • * .'

THE LANGUAGE OF J. O. SCHOTTEL. 409

Justus Georgius Schottelius^ was bom at Eimbeck in Han- over^ where his &ther was a clergyman. After attending the schools at Hildesheim and the gymnasium of Hamburg, he went to Holland and studied fix)m 1634-1636 at Leyden belles- lettres and jurisprudence, chiefly under Daniel Heinsius, the philologist and poet Leyden was not only a center of classical learning, but much interest was shown in the history of the Dutch language, and the b^nnings of a study of the older Grermanic dialects had also been made. Ailer remaining two years, Schottel went to Wittenbei^, and thence to Leipzig, where he completed his studies in 1638 and became, for a short time, tutor to a young nobleman. Very soon afterwards, Duke August of Brunswick, the founder of the Wolffenbuttel Library, ofiered him the position of tutor to his eldest son, Anton Ulrich. Schot- tel accepted this ofier, and remained henceforth in the service of the dukes of Brunswick and died as '^ Hof-, Kanzlei- und Kammerrat,'^ at Wolfienbuttel, in 1676.

In Schottel's very first publication we recognize his genuine love of everjrthing Grerman and his honest indig|hation at the growing influence of foreign thought and manners. Li the Lamentatio OermaniaeJExpiraniia, "der nunmehr hinsterbenden Nymphen Grermaniae elendeste Todesklage" (Braunschweig, 1640), he depicts with expressions of genuine sorrow the wretched condition of Grermany. His language rises to the tone of a veritable Philippic in inveighing against the " Spansch- Welsch-Fransch-Teutschen Sinn ^' of his contemporaries, and especially against the corruption of the Grerman language by the use of foreign words :

** Die Bchonste Beinlichkeit der Sprache wird beflecket Mit fremdem Bettelwerk, ja schadlich wird zerstrecket Die eingepflanzte Art; der redet deutsch nicht recht, Der den Allmodemazm nicht in dem Bosen tragt.

^ Jordens, Lexikon DeuUeher Diehler und ProsaitUn (Leipzig, 1809), lY, 614^ 625. B. y. Ranmer, OesckichU der germaniachen Philologie, pp. 72 ff. Max y. Waldboig in AUgemeine Deutaehe Biographie, yyxrr, 4(^-412.

410 H. C. G. YON JAGElf AKN.

IHe Sprache, die da kann die Kion' Europens nehmen, Die will man henkergleich zerBtiickeln and yerlahmen. So hat man ihre Zier mit Flickerei dorchlappt Und euer ekler Mond nach fremden Worten schnappt." '

His whole life was to be henceforth devoted to the study and improvement of his mother-tongue. By a series of investi- gations of special topics, the results of which he published in widely read monographs, he gradually prepared himself for his chief work, his Teutache Haubt-SpracJiej a work that has earned for him the epithet of the Jacob Grimm of the seventeenth century.

Schottel's first grammatical work was the Teutache Sprach- hmd^ which appeared in Brunswick in 1641, and, in a revised and considerably enlarged edition, in 1651.' The first part of this book contains a series of so-called Lobreden, in the first of which the author gives a -large collection of " Testimonia der Grelarten von der Trefflichkeit der deutschen Sprache'* and maintains the excellence of the German language against the criticisms of certain foreign writers. In the further Lobreden, he proceeds to prove that the present German language is, after all, still the ancient Grerman language, '^also ist gleichfalls unsere jetzige Teutsche Sprache eben dieselbe uhralte weltweite Teutsche Sprache " (p. 72). He also makes an interesting at- tempt to divide the history of the Grerman language into periods, the first beginning with ihe '^ anf augliche Bildung der deutschen

^Quoted from Bibliothek deutaeher Diehter dea xvii. JahrhunderUj heraui- gegebm wm W, MUMer, ix, 123/.

' Justi-Georgii Schottelii Einbeocensis Teuiaehe Spraehkun$ty darin die aller- wortreichste, priichtigste, reinlichste, vollkommene ahralte Hauptsprache der Teutschen auss ihren Griinden erhoben, dero Eigenschafllen und Kunst- stucke volliglich endeckt, und also in eine richtige Form der Kunst zum ersten mahle gebracht worden. Abgetheilet in drey Biicher. Braunschweig, Gedruckt bey Balthasar Grubem. Im Jahre 1641. (16mo, pp. xvi, 656.)

' Justi-Georgii Schottelii J. V. D. Teutsche Spraeh Kunatj vielfaltig yer- mehret und verbessert, darin von alien Eigenschaften der so wortieichen und prachtigen Teutschen Haubtsprache aurfiihrlich und griindlich gehandelt wird. Zum anderen mahle heraus gegeben im Jahre 1651. Braunschweig. In verlegung Christof-Friederich Zilligem. (16mO) pp. xxxxvin, 912.)

THE LANGUAGE OF J. G. SCHOTTEL. 411

Wdrter/' the second with Charlemagne, the third with Kudolph I, '^weleher h5chstl5blicher Kaiser einen eigenen Reichstag w^en der Teutschen Sprache zu Numberg gehalten, darin verabschiedety dass hinf iiro die Teutsche Sprache an stat der Lateinischen fiberal solte gebraucht werden in Grerichten, und alle Mandata, edicta, privilegia, pacta dotalia, etc/' ; the fourth with "Herm Luthero, der zugleich alle Lieblichkeit, Zier, Ungestum, und bew^enden Donner in die Teutsche Sprache gepflanzet, alle rauhe Burde ihr abgenommen, und den Teut- schen gezeiget, was ihre Sprache, wenn sie wolten, vermdgen kdnnte ; the fifth, at the time when the Grerman language should be purified of its foreign elements, ^^ darin das auslandische verderbende Lapp- und Flikwesen kunte von der Teutschen Sprache abgekehret, und sie in ihrem reinlichen angebornen Smukke und Keuschheit erhalten werden : auch darin zugleich die rechten durchgehende Grunde und Kunstwege also kunten geleget und beliebet werden, dass man gemahlich die Kiinste und Wissenschaften in der Muttersprache lesen, verstehen und horen mochte." ^

He comments on the origin of the Grerman letters, and dwells particularly on what appears to him as one of the most characteristic and most valuable features of the Grerman language, viz. its capacity for forming compounds, or, as he strangely calls them, Verdoppdungen. He touches upon the qualification of the Grerman language for the expression of poetic sentiment. He tries to prove that almost all the European languages contain Grerman elements, and meets the arguments of those who wish to derive the Grerman from foreign languages. He sketches a plan for a great Grerman dictionary, a plan which Leibniz adopted in the Unvorgreifliche Gedun- ken, a work strongly influenced in many other respects by Schottel, if not written by him, as has been maintained.'

^ Edition of 1651» pp. 91 ff.

* Leibniz und SchoUtUus, Die Vtworgreiftiehen Oedanktn^ untersucht und heraosgegeben von A. Schmanow. QwdUn und Forwchungtn^ xxni.

412 H. O. G. YON JAGEMANK.

The seooDd book of the Spraohkunst contains a phonology and accidence^ the latter recognizing two conjugations^ a " gleichfliessende '^ and an ^^ ungleichfliessende.*' The third bools is devoted to the syntax and for an Appendix we have a list of German grammatical terms used in this work in place of the customary Latin terms.

In the year 1643 he received from the university of Helm- stadt the degree of J. V. D., having presented a dissertation De poenis jvata cujuscunque delicti meritum juste aestimandia. The year before, he had become a member of the ' Frucht- bringende Gesellschaft/ assuming the appropriate society- name of 'Der Suchende.' In the year 1646 he also joined the * Blumenorden ' or Nuremberg under the name of * Fon- tano/ The Sprachhmst was well received and was introduced in the schools of Nuremberg, then one of the chief-centres of purism and other endeavors to improve the Grerman language. Encouraged by his success, and in order to reach a larger circle of readers, he soon published a briefer and more popular treatise, Der Teidschen Sprach Einleitung} He tries to show in this little treatise the true character of the Grerman language in accordance with its origin and its elements and to show of what it is capable without resorting to the use of foreign words, and mentions the German Iteichaabschiede as models of pure and correct Grerman, also the works of Aventinus, Groldast and Luther.

His next work was the outcome of studies poetical rather than grammatical, begun in consequence of his association with the " Fruchtbringende Gesellschaft.'* In the Teutsche Vers^ oder Reim-Kunst (WolfTenbiittel : 1645), a work considerably larger than Opitz' Buck von der deuischen Poeterey of 1624, Schottel takes account of the wealth of poetic forms that had

^Der leiUaehen Sprach EinUUung, zu richtiger gewisheit nnd gnindm< sigem vermugen der Teutschen Haubtsprache, samt beygefiigten Erkla- raogen. Ausgefertigt von Justo Georgio Schottelio, Dicasterii Guelphid AssesBore. Liibeck, G^rackt durch Johan Mejer. In Verlegang Matthni Diincklers Buchh. in Luneburg. Anno 1643. (16mo, pp. txxtt, 169.)

THE LANGUAGE OF J. G. SCHUTTEL. 413

oome into use since the appearance of Opitz' little treatise. It represents^ in the main, the tendencies of the Nuremburg school, a florid and stilted style, an artificial and complicated structure of verse and stanza, and all the peculiar playful and tricky rhyme-combinations invented by the Pegniizachdfer. Schottel himself wrote numerous poems, mostly religious. Some of them show moderation, but others rank among the worst products of this artificial period. Such a conception of poetry strikes us as all the more remarkable if we consider how little Schottel sympathized with some of the other tendencies of the Sprach- geselkchaften, and how much good sense he manifested in dealing, for instance, with the subject of foreign words in his chief work, the Ausjuhrliche Arbeit vcni der TeuUcheii Haubtaprache?

The latter work is a large quarto volume of about 1,500 pages, and is divided into five books, preceded by various dedications, prefaces, table of contents and list of authorities, and followed by an index and appendices. The work presents, in the main, the material published in the various preceding monographs, considerably enlarged and often greatly modified. The first book consists again often so-called Lobrederiy or intro- ductory essays on various topics connected with the character and the practical use of the language ; the second contains the

^Awfuhrliehe Arbeit von der Teutschen Haubtspraehe, worin enthalten Qe- melter dieser Haupt Sprache Uhrankanft, Uhraltertuhm, Beinlichkeit, Eigenschaft, Vermogen, Unyergleichlichkeit, Gmndrichtigkeit, zumahl die Sprach Kunst and Vera Knnst Teutsch and gatentheils Lateinisch vollig mit eiogebrachty wie nicht weniger die Yerdoppelung, Ableitung, die Einlei- tang) Nahmworter, Authores vom Teutschen Weeen und TeutBcher Sprache, von der yerteutechang) Item die Stammworter der Teutschen Sprache samt der Elrklaning und derogleichen viel merkwiirdige Sachen. AbgetheUet in Funf Biicher. Ausgefertiget yon Justo-Georgio Schottelio D. Furstl. Braunschweig: Liineburg. Hof- und Consistorial-Kahte und Hofgerichts AsBesBore. Nicht allein mit Bom: Kajserl. Maj. Privilegio, sondem auch mit Bonderbarer Kajserl. Approbation und genehmhaltung, als einer gemeinnutzigen und der Teutschen Nation zum besten angesehenen Arbeit, laut des folgenden KajserL Privilegii. Braunschweig, Gedrukt und verlegt durch Christoff Friederich Zilligem, Buchhandlern. Anno mdclxiu. (4to^ pp. xzxvi, 1494.)

414 H. G. G. VON JAGEMAKK.

etymologj, includiDg orthography and aocidenoe; the third, the syntax ; the fourth, the prosody or Teutsche Verakunst oder Beimhmd; the fifth, seven so-called tracts, the first of which is a reprint of Der TeiUschen Sprach Einleitung of 1643 ; the second, a treatise on the origin of Grerman proper names, de nominibiL8 propriis Veterum Teutonicorum seu OeUicorum populorum; the third, a treatise on Grerman proverbs; the fourth is a brief history of Grerman literature, Von Teutsch-- lands und Teutachen Scribetden; the fifth treats de modo inteipretandi in lingua Oermanioa, wie man redd verteutachen soil; the sixth contains a list of German roots and primitive words ; the seventh, a brief r^um6, in Latin, of the contents of the work, cum monitu ad lectorem.

Naturally, Schottel's knowledge of the origin and history of the Grerman language and its relations to other languages was very limited, and no one can be amazed if he confounds Celtic with Grermanic and looks upon the forms of the language in use in his time as correct and legitimate, to which the lan- guage had i*etumed after a period of confusion and corruption, during which endings like -an and -on were used in place of the correct and better sounding -en. But, on the other hand, he shows not only a wide acquaintance with German litera- ture, referring, as he does, to Otfrid, Williram, the Windsbeke and Windsbekin, the Heldenbuch, Konig Tirol and numerous later authors and works, but he also has some sense of the value of other sources, such as the ancient law-books, the proverbs, etc. He also endeavors, with more or less success, to give some historical explanation for the various rules which he formulates. In the main, of course, his position is that of a grammatical legislator and reformer. By his attempts to fix, for the time being, what he conceived to be the correct language, he at least called the attention of the cultured to the all-imiK)rtant subject of their mother tongue, and pointed out some of the lines along which it might be improved.

THE LANOUAOE OF J. G. SCHOTTEL. 415

n.

Schottel's Contributions to the German Vocabulary.

One of the things on which Schottel insisted as necessary to improve the Grerman language, was the elimination of unnecessary foreign terms by the substitution of equally good native words already in use or of newly coined German compounds. In this matter he shows singularly good sense. He knows very well how intimately patriotism and national Ibeling are associated with the love of one*s mother-tongue. He therefore abhors that species of affectation which prefers a foreign word when a good native word might just as well be used.

"Schaw doch das Wunderweib^ sie hat Milch weisse Wangen, Ihr^ Aogen braanlich-schon, ihr Haar gelb-kranslich hangen Darbei ein Pferdehalfl, der Leib ist Federbund, Die Fiisse antenwerts sind wie ein Karpenmund. Lach, lieber Schawer, lach, so bildet mich ein Mahler Und mengt mich unerhort mein Alamodo-praler

Gar wonderseltzamlich, kein Wort ist fast mehr mein : Die Sprachverderberei sol dennoch kiinstlich sein."

EinleUung, p. 20.

But he is no fanatic ; and the absurd attempts of the Blumen- orden to eliminate from the language every expression that seems to have any connection with a Latin, Greek or other foreign word, are as distasteful to him as the worst corruption that the language had previously suffered. He distinctly declares him- self in favor of the retention of really useful foreign words : " Jedoch derjenigen Worter^ der Christlichen Religion halber bey den alten Teutschen haben mussen bekannt werden, sind vermittelst Teutscher termination etzliche geblieben als Sacror- menty AUar, Bischqfy Prebende, gleichfalls, zu halten, dass es besser, und bequemer sey, dieselbe also in Teutscher Sprache zu gebrauehen, als solche mit einem urankunfUich Teutschen Worte, welches sonst nicbt unschwer zu thun sein mocbte, zu

416 H. G. jQ. VON JAQEMANN.

verwechslen '' [Ausjuhrliche Arbeit, etc., p. 455) ; and, in another place he says : " wie die Lateinische Sprache viele Unlateinische und Grichsche Worter, die Grichsche Sprache gleich&lls etz- liche barbara vocahvla (wie sie Plato nennet) ihres Nachruhms ungeschmelert behalten, und auf Lateinisch und Grichach naturalisiret haben, also konnen und miissen wir auch sothane in den Teutschen Sprachbaum notwendig (weil ein neu ding benahmet wird) eingepfropfte oder durch zulessigen gebrauch eingeimpfte, oder aber durch das herkommen fest eingezweigte worter Teutschem nachruhm ohn schaden nunmehr fein be- halten . . . . '' (i6., p. 1273). And a little later he speaks of the '^ ekkelsucht und ausmusterung derjenigen, so kein Teutsch als was ihren Ohren nur Teutsch kliuget, zulassen."

Among the numerous new words that Schottel has coined, many have not stood the test of time, and have either never driven out the foreign words which they were intended to replace, or have in their turn been crowded out by others. A sufficient number, however, still remains in use to testify to his skill and good judgment in this matter, while some of those that are not now in use must nevertheless be regarded as very happily coined. Some words coined by Schottel have already been accredited to him, while others, among them some of the most common and most characteristic words of the language, have in the dictionaries heretofore been ascribed to later periods. Some of the words enumerated in the fol- lowing lists were doubtless used by other writers before Schottel, others may have been, but there is no question that Schottel consciously uses them as new words for the purpose of introducing them. Naturally, as Schottel is a grammarian, the majority of foreign terms that he desires to replace by native words, are the technical terms of grammar, but he does not confine himself to these.

Beginning with grammatical terms, we notice first of all

Spraohkunst for grammaJticOy unfortunately not now in common UBe. Wortforsohung for etymologioj and

Wortfiigung for ayntorw, both frequently though not exclofiivelj oaed to-day.

THE LANGUAOE OF J. O. 8GH0TTEL. 417

Worterbuoh, a word of which Grimm says Id the preface to his DmUaekeB Wdrterbuoh: " Den ausdruck worterbuoh kannte das riebzehnte jahrhundert noch nicht, Stieler weias nicbts dayon [he gives his dictionary of 1691 the title SprachsehatM}^ zuerst meines wissens verwendet ihn Kramer (1719) nach dem nnl. woordeiUH)ekf Steinbach and Frisch behielten and ffihrten in allge- mein ein ; von uns gelangte er zu Schweden and Danen. . . /' It seems an- fortunate that in the ' Worterbuch ' par exeeUenee the coiner of this very word shoald have been overlooked ; ^ for Schottel asee Worlerhneh (*' Lexicon oder yollstandiges Worterbuch") in his first grammatical pabiication of 1641, seventy-eight years before Grimm's first aathority, and always after that, and I cannot find the Datch woardenboek as the title of any dictionary pub- lished in Holland previous to that year.

Mundart has become so popular a word, that even in technical writings it is often employed, and substitutes proposed at various times, e.g. Spraehari and Redart have been unable to g^in any foot-hold.

Lautwort for onomalopoetieon would seem to deserve greater popularity than it enjoys.

Vorttellung for paradigma has never obtained any standing, and

Doppelung and Verdoppelung, for eompoeUiOf seem strangely inaccurate designations. On the other band,

Rechttohreibung for orthagraphia is universally used by the side of the older word.

Ableitung and Herleitung for derivation as well as the corresponding verbs abUiten and herleiten are not represented in Grimm's Worterbu^ by any earlier authority than Goethe, but they are both found in Hchottel, the first in the SpraMunit of 1641.

Getohleoht for genui seems natural enough ; but a very happily coined word is

Getohleohtwort for arlieuluSf all the more so because it is not a transla- tion; on the other hand benennend and unbenennend for definUua and indefinitui seem clumsy compared with the modem bettimmt and unbe- •timnit.

Nennwort, for nomen, still occasionally used, though Hauptwort is more common. Bchottel uses

Gemeinet Nennwort for nomen appdloHvum; also beyttandiget Nenn- wort for odjeeLivum, Eigenaehaflewori [not given in Grimm, strange to say] occurs, according to Heyne, only since the eighteenth century.

Vornennwort is used for pronomen^ now replaced by the simpler FSrworL For the subdivisions of the pronouns, personal, demonstrative, etc., Schottel uses the Liatin terms.

Zahlwort for ntanerale has since been in common use, likewise the excellent

^ In view of the fact that for the later volumes of the Worterbuch Schottel's writings have been carefully examined, it is probable that when the article worterbuch is reached, this error in the preface will be corrected.

418 H. C. O. VOH JAGElfANN.

Zeltwort, for which Gampe later on proposed Zudandiwori^ withoat finding followers.

Vorwort, for praeponlio, is still occasionally osed ; not so

Zuwort, a literal translation of adtferhium,

Fiigewort, for eonjaneiio, seems an excellent term, though it has not attained any great popularity.

Abwandeiung, for dedinatiOf and the verb abwandeln, are well choeeo. For the names of the cases^ Schottel uses

Nennendung, Getchleohtendung, Gebendung, Klagendung, Rufen- dung, and Nehmendung, none of which have become popular, being too literal and spiritless translations.

Einzele Zahl, for sm^u^orti, and

Mehrere Zahl, for pluralis, haye given way to the simpler Einaahl and MehrtahL

Ergrbsserung, for wmparaiio, with the terms ertte, mittlere, and hbohtte StafTel, are not now in use. Schottel employs

Zeitwandelung for conjugatio, and he recognizes, as said before, two species, the glelohfllessende and the ungleichfliessende, failing to observe any regularity in the strong verbs and enumerating them finally in alpha- betical order. Other grammatical terms are

Wirkende Deutung for oc/ivum; leldende Deutung for poMroum; Weite for modus; Weise anzuzelgen for indieativua; Weise zu fiigen for eon- junetivtu; Weise zu gebieten for imperativus; Weise zu enden, a very strange term for infinitivus, also Endungswelse; Mlttelwort for parHapiumf still used by purists; Zelt for Umpua; gegenwiirtige Zeit for praesetu; fastvergangene Zeit for imper/eetum ; vergangene Zeit for perfeehan; gantzvergangene Zeit for pluaquamperfeetum; and zulciinftige Zeit for fiUurum, Not to go through the whole list, I will merely mention Gleioh* richtiglceit for anahgia^ and Grundriohtlglceit for analogiaJundamentalU, both good words, whatever the dihtinction may have been; Hinterstrichlein for apostrophe; Beistrichlein for comma; Strichpunlctlein for iemieoUm; Doppelpunlct for colon; Hauchlaut for oBpiratio [Grimm: " als technischer Ausdruck den Grammatikern des achtzehnten Jahrhunderts eigen " ; Schot- tel, 1641]; Verwunderungszeichen for exclamcUionis signum; Doppellaut {or diphthongw; Zwischen wort for tnter/ectio; Fragzeichenforinterro^oiumts signumf already used by Ickelsamer in his Deutsche Grammatik (1527).

Among the most successful words are doubtless Naohdruok for emphasis, and zweideutig, by the side of the less happily chosen gleiohbenahmt for homonymua. In the syntax he distinguishes between Vorsatz and Naoh- satz ; quantity and quality he renders well by Wortzeit and Wortklang ; radix by Stammwort; scansio by Abiqessung ; terminatio by Endung.

Among the terms not entirely grammatical we notice Lehrsatz for rtgula, thesis; DenkzeW (or Epoche ; Einleitung for tn^oeiuetio; Fremdgierigkeit: " Vetera & aliena extollimus, recentium & nostrum ipsorum incuriosi; die fromdgierigkeit scheinet durch ein hartes verhengniss sonderlich den Teat-

THE ULNQUAGE OF J. G. SCHOTTEL. 419

■chen gar tieff aogeboren za sein" (Spraehhtnst, III); Gegenbewelt, Handelsgenoste, both credited by Grimm to Stieler (1691), but found in the Au^UhrlieheArbeii; Klafterworte (or aetquipedalia verba; kunstgrundfg, kunstriohtig, kunstmassig ; Sinnbild for emblema; wortarm, wortreioh ; Wortgleiohung for paronomasia; Wortzank for ^^omacAia; Wortzeiger {or eataiogns tferhorum; Anmerkung for ofrMrvatio ; Bildungskraft, Denk- kraft, Urteiiskraft ; Naturlehrer for phyncuSf according to Grimm used first in the eighteenth century by Kant and Herder, but found in the Au8- fuhrliche Arbeit, p. 335.

III.

The Strong Verbs.

Inasmuch as levelling in the preterit of the strong verbs constitutes one of the chief characteristics of the Modem High German as compared with the late Middle High German and the language of the transition period^ it will be interesting to inquire into Schottel's position with reference to this linguistic tendency. It will be observed that while in certain classes of verbs this levelling process is completed, in others it has hardly b^un, and very archaic forms are there the rule, in spite of Schottel's general tendency toward uniformity.*

As r^ards the personal endings, it appears that Schottel, as a rule, uses the full endings -est and -et, and rarely employs contracted forms. The exceptions occur almost exclusively among the verbs that have, in the 2. and 3. sing. pres. indi- cative, a vowel different from that of the infinitive. Those having -ew- are nearly always contracted: beugst, beugt; beutaty beut; verdreud; fleugsi, fleugt; fieuchst^ Jleuchty but

^ In the following discussion, the Teutsche Spraehkunil of 1641 is denoted by Af the second edition of the same of 1651 by B, the A%ujuhrlieht Arbeit of 1663 by G

Unless otherwise stated, the endings in the second and third pers. sing, pres. ind. are -tst and -et, and the radical yowel is the same as in the infinitive ; in the preterit, the first and third persons have no ending, and the second person has the ending -est; the radical vowel throughout the preterit is that of the first pers. sing. ind. Furthermore, unless otherwise stated, the forms are the same in A, B, and C, except that, as a rule, A does not give the forms for the preterit subjunctive.

420 H. O. G. VOH JAGEICANH.

fliekeslyfliehd; Jreurst,Jreurt; kreuchdy kreucht; leugti, leugt; reiuihstf reucht; sclieud; schleiutt; aeuffsty 9euffl; seudst, seud; treugstj treugt; ireuffid^ireuffl; verleurd, verleurt ; zeugd, zeufft^ but zieheat, ziehet; exceptions are geusaedf geneussed^ Bcheubedj entspreusited. Those with d (e) and i (ie) are also often con- tracted^ particularly when the vowel is short, but many unoon- tracted forms occur, more in the second person than in the third, and more in C than in A and J5 : bejUded by the side of befihli; birgst, birgt, by the side of verbirgest, verbirget C; brichst, brichl; fichd^fieht in A and J5, hut Jic/Ue8t,fechiedj field and fechtet in C; hiiffat^ hilfi; ledst, led; ligegt^ ligd and ligt; nimHty nimt; quillefd^ by the side of quilU; achldffedf but schldffiy etc. All verbs leaving the vowel in the 2. and 3. sing, unmodified, have the full endings, except greifft and kneiffly by the side of greiffest and kneiffeHi, In the 2. sing, pret the -«- is hardly ever omitted.

The inorganic -e in the 1 . and 3. sing, pret is occasionally found ailer h : diehe (by the side of the queer diehU) in B and C; friehe; liehe, zielie for the 1. person, by the side of the ir- regular ziefiei for the 3. person, likewise vei'ziehe; flohe; sake for the 1. person, by the side of mh; once the -e occurs after another consonant : fohte,

I.

beissen — bisa — gebisaen,

bleiben — UiA—gAlUben,

[ver-]bleiohen — verblieh — verhliehen*

deihen, gedeihen (not in A ) — dith^ -est^ -de and -e — ytdiehen,

[be-]fleisen — bejiiu — befiwen.

gleiten (not in A) — giiU — geglitUn.

greiffen, greiffeM, greifi — i4, B: griff, C: grief— gegriffen,

knelffen, kneiffat, kneiffi—kniff—gekniffen,

leiden — Hit — geiitten,

verleihen (not in A) — liehe, liehett, liehe — geliehen,

melden, A and B refer to seheiden^ q. v. C: mied^ meidete; mieieti mmdeted; mied meidete ; miedlen meideien ; midUt meidelet; midten meideUn^-gemutr ten gemeidei. "UHitatiiiH est Anoinnliim gemittenJ* — vermeiden, A: vermUt — vermitten; B, C: vermiti, vermeideie — Mrmtttai,

pMften~^ff—gepfifferu

pel ben — rieb — gerieben.

THE LANGUAGE OF J. G. 80H0TTEL. 421

reitten — riss — ^eriasen,

reiten— ritf-^erttten.

•oheinen — sehien — ge^chimen,

•oheissen — whisa — gesehiasen,

•ohieiohen {B: sleiehen, etc.) — sehUch — gesehliehen.

•ohleifTen {B: deiffen) A, B refer to gniffen, q. y.— C: schl^-^-'feKhl^tn.

•ohieisten {B: steiaaen^ etc.) — achliaa — geachHsim.

•ohmeissen {B: mieiMefi, etc) — acAmtss— ^escAmustfii.

•ohneiden {B: meiderif eta) — achniU — geachniUm,

•ohreiben — aehrieb — gesehrieben,

•ohreyen — achrye — geaehryen,

•eihen, teigen (only in C) — aeihete, aeigete—geaiehm, geaigen.

•ohreiten— MAritt (C: aehrii)--^eachrittm,

•ohweigen {B: aweigen, etc.) — achwieg — geachwiegen,

[ver-]siegen (only in C) — ^p. p. veniegen, ** fons ezuccatns & aridus, ein Brunn ao veraiegen," Schottel evidently does not know the more regu- lar form veraeigen for the present, nor the preterit veraog and p. p. ver- aogen used by Stieler and others with the present veraiegen according to wUgen — wog — gewogen.

•peyen — apeyeU, apie — geapien, geapeyd,

•pleissen (only in C) — apUaa — getpUaaen.

•teigen — aHeg — geaHegen.

MirMtn—atriUr—geatnUen.

[ver-]gleiohen— iwr^iM — verglichen.

weiohen — wieh — gewiehen,

welsen — wiea — geurieaen,

zeihen (A and B refer to leiheny q. ▼.) C: pret. 1. nehe, 2. ziehaat, 8. ttiehet^ — gezUhen, The -t in the 3. sing. pret. is probably due to a misprint, although veneihm has it also.

Here belong also

•ohelden — aehied — geaehiiden, the transfer of which from the reduplicating verbs to this series seems to be accomplished, as Schottel does not give the older p. p. geaeheideriy which still occurs in Luther, Gen. 13, 14.

fireihen (in B and C)—freiheiejfriehe — g^riehen, g^eieL It seems strange that Schottel should have given the strong forms without character- izing them as rare ; Grimm does not give a single example of their use and the only one cited by Heyne from Philander von der Linde {Schen- hafte OedichUf 1713) ''es haben andre sonst als du um mich g^riehen (: Ziehen) " is late and proves little. I can find no other example.

prei8en~}>ra«e^ priea; subj. (not in A) prieae — gepreiaetf geprieaen; the older weak forms which Luther uses exclusively, are still recognized as correct, except in the preterit subjunctive, where B and 0 have only the strong form.

4

422 H. O. G. vox JAQEICAKN.

In this class the process of levelling in the preterit is com- pleted^ and the original vowel of the singular has in every case given way to that of the plural. Forms like er reU, er 9chndt often occurring in the 16. and 17. centuries^ are no longer recognized by Schottel. The levelling process has extended also to the preterits with ^ before -A and -t(7 : Wih^ dkh^ 9chri >> liehej diehe, schrye.

The struggle between long and short i has been decided ac- cording to the rule that K appears before original surds and aspirates^ I before sonants ; the only exception \Bgri^{C) by the side o£ griff, (-4, B).

Differentiation of consonants according to Vemer's law is still found in meiden — mied, vermiU — meidteny midten — gemUten, while in geddhen, leiden and ziehen usage has decided between the consonant of the pret. sing, and that of the pret plur. The g of geaigen has crept into the present tensCi giving the infinative aeigen by the side of the older seihen,

A tendency to become weak is seen in meiden^ mhen, and speyen; on the other hand^ many verbs of which weak forms oftien occur in the 16th and 17th centuries^ are given only as strong. The fact that such an unquestionably strong verb as ireiben is^ doubtless by an oversight, omitted from the list of strong verbs in A, B and C, makes it difficult to say whether the omission of achneieii implies its classification as a weak verb or not.

n.

biegen ; 1. beuge, biege; 2. heugtt; 3. beugt — hog — gebogen,

bieten ; 2. beutsi; 3. betU — bol — gebaten.

[ver-]drie88en ; A and B refer to gieaaen, C: 2. verdreust; 3. verdrmut-'

verdros — verdrossen, fliegen ; 2.fleug8l; 3. A: fleuget; By C: fleugt—-JU>g — gefiogen, fliehen (only in C); 2, fleuehaty fliehest ; Z, feu^ fiehdr--fioh&-'g^hm. fl lessen; 2,fleu8t; S. fleust—Jlosa — g^lonen, firieren ; 2,freur8t; 3,fr€urt-—fror — g^roren, giessen ; 2. gettaaest; 3. geuat — gasa — gegoaaen,

^ For examples see Kehrein's Chwnmatik der deutecAen SproicKe det fiutf' wekrUm bia aidnsehiUen JahrhwiderUf I, 247 aqq.

THE ULKGUAGE OF J. G. 8CH0TTEL. 423

kleten; 2.kU$e8t; S. kieadr-kohr'-^tkohrm,

krieohen; 2,kreueh8i; 8. AreudU — kroeh — gekroehen.

liegen ; 2. leugst; 3. leugt (A Uugti; misprint) — log — gdogen,

[ver-]lieren; 2.verUur8t; S.verleurl — verhkr — verlohren,

[ge-]niessen ; 2. gmeusaeti; 3. geneusl — genos — genosBen.

riechen ; 2. reuehtl; 3. reueht — roeh — geroeKen.

•ohieMen(not in A); 2. teheiut; 3. Kheu8l — dchau — geaehonen,

•ohiietsen (B: tHesaen); A and B refer to giesaen^ q. y. C: 2. ichieiut; 3.

9chUwt — ichlou — ge9chlo88en. •ieden ; 2. aeudst; 3. mtd^-doUr^geaoUen, [ent-]tprietten ; A and B refer to gieaaen, q. ▼. C: 1. mtipriaae; 2. mC-

qireiitsest/ 3. enUpreuat; pi. miaprissen — erUapros — eiUsproaaen, •tieben ; A and B refer to MAiefren, q. y. C: 2, itifbeat; 3. tti/AtL triegen ; 2. treugai; 3. treu^t — troy — getrogen, triefTen : 2. treufii; 3. Ureuffl^-4iroff—getroffen, Ziehen ; A: 2. aeugat; 3. teu^/ J3, C7; 2. teti^ neheat; 3. seu^ nehetr—Mg

—geaogen.

The few verbs belonging to this class that have in O.H.G. 4 in the present^ are otherwise regular :

•aufTen ; 2. aeuffat; 3. aaiffi {B: aeirfat^ aeuft) — aoff—geaoffm,

•augen ; 2. aaugeal — aog — geaogen. The "Ou- of the 2. pers. is probably dae

to a desire to ayoid oonfudon with the caosatiye aeugen; C: **aeugen

* lectare infantem ' ist regular."

Here belongs also

•ohauben 'tmdere,' 'pellere,"poolBer'; 2. aeheubeat; 3. achauba — aehob; Bubj. achobe^ achube—geaehoben, Giyen thus mAfB,C, except that the pret subj. is wanting in A. C7 alone has, in addition to achauben, and as a separate yerb,

•ohieben 'protmdere,' 'bonier'; 2. achiibeat ("interdum aeheubeat"); 3. aehiAet, aeheubet — aehob ; subJ. aehobe — geaehoben. It is clear that this is a distinction witboat a difference, and that aehavben is due to Low German influence.^

It will be seen that in this class too the process of levelling in the preterit is completed^ no traces of the ou of the pret. sing, or of the more persistent u of the pret. plur. remaining, with the only exception, as regards the latter, of the subjunc-

^ Both A and B saj under aMen " sih aehieben/* but onlj aehamben appears in the list

424 H. C. G. YON JAGEMAKK.

tiye schvbej by the side otsckbbey over against boge, bdCe^Jldge, flosse, frore, gosse, kohre, krochCf loge, verJohrey genoasey roche^ soffcy soge, schosae, schlosaey sottey sprdssty trogty iroffe, zogej^

Similarly^ analogy has removed all distinctions between pre- terit singular and preterit plural, as r^ards final eonsonantSy and forms like kos are no longer recognized by Schottel. The decision has in every case been given in &vor of the consonant of the pret plural, probably through the influence of the past participle : frohvy kohvy verlohry sotty zog.

On the other hand, there seems to be hardly a banning made to assimilate the vowel of the 2. and 3. sing, to that of the rest of the present tense, and eu is still the rule. The only exceptions are : fliehestyfliehety mentioned setter fleuchstyjleucht ; * kiesty kieaet; atiebesly stiebet in Cy while A and B apparently mean to recognize forms with -eu- / zieheaty ziehety given in B and C after zeugsi and zeiigty while A has only the latter. Of all the verbs in this class, zielien is probably the most common, and the fact that A has only the forms with eu may be taken to indicate that witli Schottel the tendency to substitute -ie- for -eu- in the 2. and 3. pers. had only just begun. The first person has regularly the vowel of the infinitive; the only exception, heugcy is doubtless due to confusion with the causa- tive beugeUy O. H. G. and M. H. G. bougen. In zieheuy h is changed to ^ in the 2. and 3. prcs. indicative in the contracted forms with -eu- ; but verziehcHy verzeachsiy verzeucht (C).

III.

cL Vebbs ending in a nasal followed bt another consonant.

binden — 1. band; 2. bundest; 3. band; pi. bunden; sabj. biinde — ^ebunden, dringen {C: "item drengt, drengesty ttc) — 1. drang; 2. drungeat; 3. drang;

pi. drungen; subj. driinge—gedrungen. flnden — l./and; 2.funde8i; S.fand; ph/unden; Buhj, Junde — g^nden,

^ For many archaic forms occurring in the 17th century, see Kehrein, ib. I, 255 sqq.

'It is not certain that Schottel always meant the second form to be TCgaided as the one used less often.

THE LANGUAGE OF J. G. SCOSOTTEL. 426

gelingen — 1. fftlang; 2. gdungett; 3. ^e^cm^/pl. ^vmgtn; subj. gMnge--

gekingen, klingen — 1. kkmg; 2. klwigest; 3. Uang; pL Hungm; sabj. klunffe^

gelUungen. ringen — 1. rang; 2. rungtst; S. ran^; pi. rungen; subj. rtin^e — geningen, •ohwinden {B: moinderif etc.) — 1. sehwand; 2. MAiottficIest / 3. $chwand;

pi. aeAvufuien; subj. tehwunde — gesehvmnden. •ohwingen {B: twingen, etc.) — 1. aehwang; 2. aehwwigesl; 3. schwang; pi.

aehioungen; subj. acAwun^e — ^(/escAvim^en. •ingen — 1. «m^; 2. ntngesl; 3. aan^/ pL «un^feii; subj. sunge — getungen, •inken (A: sincken) — 1. sank; 2. tunkeal; 3. sank; pi. madcen; subj. sunike

— ^e«ttn^«n. •pringen— 1. sprang; 2. gprungett; 3. sprang; pi. aprunpen/ subj. iiprttn^

— gesprungen. •tinken (.i: sttneAjen) — 1. stank; 2. stunibest/ 3. stank; pL stenibm; sabj.

stunke — gestunken. trinken {A: trineken) — 1. trank; 2. trtmkesi; 3. Irank; pi. Irtmi^; subj.

triinke — geirunken, winden 'tor(][uere' — hwand; 2.wunde8t; S,wand; pLwunden; subj. mincie

— gewunden, winden * vincere' (in B and C) — 1. mmd; 2. wanneH; 3. wand; pi. mmnen;

subj. wunne — gewonnen. Apparently bonfused with [ge-]winnen. ZWingen — 1. twang; 2.mimng€st; Z,zwang; pL twungm; subj. twGnge — ge-

zwungen.

Here may also be mentioned

betohenoken — A: 1. besehank; 2. beschankesi; — besehvncken; "aliud est beseheneket;** B, C: 1. besehank^ beschenkie; 2. btsehankest, beschenkest; — besehenketf " interdum beschunken,"

b, Vkbbs ending in ▲ double nasal.

beginnen — 1. began, begunU ; 2. beguntest ; 8. begun, begunie; plur. not given ;

subj. begunie — begunnen, begonnen, rinnen — 1. ran; 2, runnest; 3. ran; pi. runnen; subj. runne — geronnen. •ohwimmen {B: swimmen) — 1. sehwamm; 2. sehwummesi ; S.schwamm; pi.

schwummen; subj. sehwumme; — A: gesehwummen; B, C: geschwummen,

gesehwommen. •innen* Not given in A ; B and Cgive only the p. p. gesonnen. All three

have beainnen — 1. 6e8anti; 2. beaannest; 3. besann; pL not given; subj.

besunne — besonnen, •pinnen — 1. spann; 2. spunnest; 3. spann; phspunnen; subj. spunne — ge-

sponnen, [g«-]winnen— 1. gewan; 2. gemmnest; 3. gewan ; pi. gewunnen ; subj. gewunne

— gewonnen.

426 H. C. G. yox JAGEHAKN.

c Vbrbb endiko in a liquid followed bt anothxb comoHAHT.

bergen; 2. birgst; 8. hirg1^-l. barg ; 2. bargesi; 8. barg ; pi. not giTan; 8ubj. burge; — geborgen, — verbergen; 2. verbirgeat; 8. verbirgel; — 1. verbarg;

2. verborgut; 3. verbarg; pi. verborgen; subj. verbSrge; — wrftoTTOt. bertten; 2. 6irseest, bir$t; 3. 6tr8(;— 1. 6arj(; 2. bonUti; 8. A.* 6art</ ^,

C: borst; pi. ftorfften; sabj. borate; — geboraien. [ver-]derben ; 2. verdirbeai; 3. verdirbet; — 1. verdarb; 2. verduHmt^verdor-

beat; S. verdarb; p\. verdurberif verdorben ; sabj. Mr(iiir6e; — wrctorften, [be-]fehlen; 2. fr^/fA/est; 3. befihU;—!, b^ahl; 2. b^ohleal; 8. ft^oA// pi.

b^ohlen; Buh], befohU ; — befohlen, gelten; 2. ^(es<; 3. gilt,-^!, gall; 2. ^oto<; 8. goU; pi. ^cOten; ratrj.

yu/te / — gegoUen, helfen (^; helffen, etc.); 2. At{r<<; 8. hilft;—l. half; 2. H^/ 3. AojT/ pL

not given ; subj. Au{/'e; — gehoilfen, quellen ; 2. quilUat; 8. ^i^; — 1. ^uo^; 2. quoUeat; 8. ^uoil; pL quoUm;

subj. quelUte; — geqxioUen. •ohelten ; 2. aehUUat; 8. acAtU; pi. seAo^ten, evidently a misprint, althoagh

running through A, Bf C; — 1. acholic 2. aehaUul^ C also aekulUai; 8.

aehali; pi. not given ; subj. aehuUe; — geaehoUen. •ohmeizen (A : aehmeltzerif etc., B: muken, etc.); 2. aehmilaeai; 8. ackmOaei;

— 1. tfcAmaZs; 2. acAYno/sefC, B and Calso «eAinii6(ei<; 8. aehmala; pi. not

given; subj. aehmulae; — geaehmolaen, "Variatur per omnes vocales^

aehmala aehmetMen aehmikeat aekmolMeai aehmvlaeat" •Ohweilen {B: awellen, etc); 2. aehwiUal, A: aehwUai; 8. a^mtU, A:

aehwili ; — 1. aehwall ; 2. aehwoUeat ; 8. achwall; pi. aehwoUen ; subj. aekwdUa;

— geachwoUen, •terben ; 2. atirbeai; 8. atirbet; — 1. atarb; 2. alurbeat, atorbeai; 8. starfr; pi.

aturben, atorben; subj. «ttir6e; — geatorben, werben ; A and B refer to «ter6«n ; C conjugates like aUrbetif but adds aiurb

for the 8. pers. pret. warden; 2.t9tra<; S,wird; — I, ward; 2, wurdeat^ wordeat ; 8. ward; pLwCr^

den, warden; subj. wurdt; — geworden. The form wSrden in the pret.

plur. must be a misprint, although it runs through A, B and C Werfen {A: werfferif etc.); 2. wirfat; 3. trir/2; — 1. war/; % wwrfeai, wonjeaA ;

3. waf/; pi. wurfen; subj. wurft; — geworfen,

[vor-]wlrron ;— p. p. verworren. Here belongs also

[•r-]80hallen (simplex not given) — eraeholl; subj. eraehulU; — eraehoUenf in which verb the weak present sehaUen has combined with the pret. and p. p. of the strong aehelieriy which was becoming obsolete. In Cliyus^ QrammaHk (1578) only the weak forms are given.

THE LAKGUAQE OF J. G. 8GH0TTEL. 427

It will be seen that in this class levelling in the preterit has made but little progress. As a rule, the singular has a, the plural u (o), the subjunctive u (5). The 2. sing, has the vowel of the plural, with the ending -€8^. This survival of the old distinction between the 1. and 3. pers. on the one hand, and the 2. pers. on the other, is perhaps the most striking archaism in SchottePs conjugation.

There are but slight b^nnings of a confiision of the several vowels. The first subdivision has r^ularly i — a — u,ti — w, the only exception being wanned. The second subdivision has i — a — ufi — 0, but there are a few exceptions : 3. sing. pret. be- gwn and p. p. begunnm before begonnen; geschummmen before geschwommen ; beaanned; besides, the pret. plurals of beginnen and [be-^sinnen are not given, from which, however, it would not be safe to infer that they had the same vowel as the singulars. The third subdivision is less r^ular than the two others. The pret. plurals of bergen, helfenj achaUen, scheUen, schmelzen are not given ; of the remainder, one has u viz. toerfen ; four have o, viz. beiden, befehlen, queUen, achtoellen; four may take either u or o, viz. sterben, verderbeUy werben, werden (f) ; one has the vowel of the singular, a, viz. gelten. The 1. sing. pret. has a, with the exception of scbdUnj which has o. In the 2. sing. pret. one verb has w, viz. hdfen ; five have o, viz. bersteny befehleUy geUen, quellen, schwdlen; six have u and o, viz. verderben^ schmelzen {u in B and C), sterben, werben, toerdeny werfen; one has u and a, viz. schelten {u in O); but only one has the same vowel as in the first and third persons, viz. bergen. In the 3. sing. pret. the majority have only a; befehUn and gelien have o ; beraten has a in A, and o in J5 and C; derben has a in ^ and B, while C adds durb. The sub- junctive has Uy except borde, beJofUe, schwoUe, and the weak queUete.

IV.

breohen ; 2. hrichU; S. brieht; — hraeh; subj. broehe ;—gebroehm. gebehren; 2. gththreat; 3. gebehri; B and C also: gebihresi, gebihrt; — gehakr; eah^gebdhr; — gdnnren.

428 H. C. Q. voir JAGEMANK.

dretohen; 2. driaehetl; 3. driaehet ,—1. draach, dro9ch; 2. droMcheti; 3.

drcuch; pi. droBchen; Buh). drosche ; — gedroacheiu fBOhten ; ^ and jB refer to JkchUn, q. v. ; C: 2. fichteii, feehteal; 3. fieht,

feehia;—l./oehU; 2./ocAterf; S,foehU; xA.foehtm; suhy /dchU,JvichU;

— ^ochlen, lleohten; 2.fiichal; Z.flichi;—A: l.Jloch; ZJIochUst; Z,ftoeh; pi.jlochim;

B, C: 1. JhehU; 2. fiochUwl; Z.floehU; pi. Jloehien; suhi, fikiue ,'—ge'

fioehten. [ver-]heelen (not in A); the p. p. verholen is the only suryiving form of

the strong yerb. kommen; 2. hommaty komsl (C'-mmr); 3. kommel; — kam; subj. kame; —

gehommen, letohen (not in A); p. p. [er-]losohen. nehmen; 2 nimtt; 3,ninU; — nam; subj. noAme; — gmommen, reohen ; 2. richest; 3. reehei; — ^p. p. geroehen, •oheren ; 2. Bcherest; — aehor; subj. achore; — geaehoren. [er-]80hrekken (not in A); 2. erachrekke^; — eraehrakk; subj. etaehrekU^

erachrokU ; — eraekrokken, %preohen=breeKen ; C: ** Dieses Wort wird durch alle Vocales yariirt, als:

apraeh, apreehen^ apriehif geaprochen, Sprueh ; item durch die beiden Ellein-

laute 0, u, als : aprocKe, SpriieKe," •teohen; A and B refer to breehen; C: 2. alicheal; 8. aUchi; — ataeh; pL

ataehen (interdum atoehen); subj. atoche; — gtatochen, •tehlen; ^aixhlat; Z, atihlt ,-^1, aUUd ; 2.alohleal; Z,atahl; pLatoAlen/— subj.

alofde ; — geatohUn, trefTen ; 2. tr^at; 3. triffi;^4raff; subj. troffe; — gdroffen.

In this class^ the old distinction of quantity between pret. sing, and pret. plur. has completely disappeared^ unless a trace of it is to be sought in the subjunctive ndhme over against the indicative nam. There seems to have been a tendency to maintain the difference in vowel between pret. sing, and pret, plur. by substituting for the originally long a of the plural, which was no longer distinguished from the originally short a of the singular, an o, which in its turn penetrated into the singular. In the plural, o is found in dreacherif fechten, fledUerif^ schereUy steeken ("interdum'*) and dehlen; the o has . also penetrated into the whole singular of fechten, Jkohten, and sdieren, and is further found in the 1. sing, drosch, by the side of draachy and in the 2. sing, stohlest. The subjunctive has o,

^ These two yerbs had, as is well known, long had u in the plural in M. G.

THE ULNGUAGE OF J. G. 8GH0TTEU 429

the only exceptions being kdme and nahme. This tendency to introduce o into the pret. sing, and pret. plur. may have been helped by the fact that the verbs of this class agreed in the p. p« with those of class II (fliegen-^floff — g^logen) which had q throughout the preterit.

V.

bitten ; — bat ; — Bubj. beU ; — gd>€ten,

••ten; 2. itsesl; 3. isset; — aaa; snbj. daaez-^gegetsen, gtssm. Likewise

fressen. geben ; 2. gihst; 3. giebt (A : ffiAel) ; — gab ; subj. gabe ; — gtgeben, [ver-jgessen ; 2. vergisuat; 3. vergiatd; — vergan ; sabj. B: vergasBc, C:

vergesse ; — vergeaaen. lesen ; 2. list^ lieaeal ; 3. list, lieaet ; — laa (3. A : lasa) ; subj. /ose. ligen ; 2. Ugeat; 3. liget, ligt; — lag; subj. Uge; — geUgtn, messen ; 2. miaaeti; 3. miaaet; — masa; subj. mdaae; — gemeaaen. [ge-]80hehen ; 3. geaehiehet; — geaehach; sabj. geachehe; — geachehen, •ehen ; 2. sihat ; 3. aihet ; — 1. soA, aahe; 2. aaheat ; 3. aah ; subj. adhe; — geaehen. •itzen ; — aaaa; subj. adaae; — geaeaaen, treten ; 2. tritteat, tritat {B: triat) ; 3. triU,—!. trat; 2. A: Protest, ^ and C:

traiteat; 3. (rat; subj. trdte; — getrelen. wegen ; 2. wigat; 3. wigt; — wog; subj. tooge; — gewogen.

No traces of a difference between pret. sing, and pret. plur. remain^ nor has a been supplanted by o as in class IV^ except in wegen, which may be r^arded as having gone over into class II; pflegeriy which early forms a p. p. gepflogen, Schottel evidently means to treat as weak. In the subjunctive, a prevails^ but e is found in bete, vergesse ( J5 .• vergdsae), lege, gescheat

VI.

bakken; {A: backen, etc.); 2. bakkeat; 3. bekket; — 1. buck; 2. bu^tai (A: buchst) ; 3. buck; subj. biiche; 3. bucket (evidently a misprint, although found in B and C) ; gebakken,

fahren; 2./dhreat; S, fdhret ;—fahr ; subj. ^uAre; — g^akren,

graben; 2. grabeat; 3. grdbet; — grub; subj. grube; — gegraben.

heben ; hub; subj. hiibe; — gehobeuy gehaben,

jagen (not in il); 2. B: jdgeatjegat; C: jagtat, jegat; Z.jagtt, jdgi;—^; subj. jUge ;—gtjag€t.

laden ; 2. ledat; 3. led; — Ind; snbj. lude; — gdaden,

mahlen, *pingere'; 2,mehUat; S.meklel;'-mM; sahj. muhle; — genuLhUn.

5

430 H. O. G. TON JAGEMANK.

•ohtffbn ; 2. adbfctf ,*— •dUtjT/ sabj. tthUfU (both B and C) f—geaeha^fm. •Ohitgen {B: dagtn^ etc); 2. •chl&gat^ 8. •chiagt^ {A: adUe^ teiUs^)/ —

aoUii^ / rabj. MLH/gt ; — yuehhgtih. •ohweren (B: awcrmyetc.); 2. tehwerett; — §ehmir: Buh}. mkmQre; — peteAworen. tragen ; 2.^.- tregst ; B, C: trdgtt; Z.A: tregi; B, C: tragi f — trug; mlg.

dnigt; — getragtn, Waohten ; 2. weeJuetl; S. weohtet; — wueh»; rabj. wiich$e; — gewaekwen, watohen; 2. A: weaeheat; B, C: wdaehaat; 3, A: weacKel; B, C: waaeket/ —

umach; rabj. wuadie; — gewaaehen.

This class is very r^ular. The o in geschworen is^ of course, quite' old ; the new gehoben is placed before the older gehaben, but the still more modem hob is not yet mentioned. Note- worthy are the irr^ular jug, j^^y by the side of ggagety and mufU, muhle, gemaJdm. In the 2. and 3. pres. indicative, e and d are about equally distributed, both being used in long and short stems, while A has e more frequently than B and CI

VII.

a.

blatan ; 2. btdseat; S. bldaet ,*-^iea f'-^ifebtoBm, braten; 2. A: breUeai; B, C: breUat; 3. bret; — 6rte( /— pti&raten. Allien; ZJaUat; Z. fdUt ,'—fid ;^g^allen. fiangen; 2,/engeat; Z, fmgi ,*—fimg f'—g^angm, halten; A: 2. hSUaat; 3. haii; B, C: -e- ,—hiaU ,'—gehalUn. hangen ' suspendere, faire qu'elle pende ' ; 2. hengai ; 3. hengei; — A : hUng; B: hieng *'(obn e)"; C: king "(obn e)",* — gehangan. It will be ob- ferved that Scbottel seems to know only the strong yerb, and that in a causatiye sense; or else he would have mentioned the weak verb in a note, as he generally does. lasten; A: 2. Uaaeat; 3. Uaaet; B^ C: -a-; — liea; — gdaaam, rahten \ A: 2, reUat; 3,reU; B, C: 2. rdteH; 3. rdU (probably a misprint) ;

— nd ; — gercJUen, •ohlafTen (B: tlaffen, etc.) ; 2. aehldffeat; 3. 9chldffl,'-'^ehli^,-'-geachkffen,

b.

helssen ; — hiea$; — geheiaien. Here belongs, by analogy, helsohen ; — hieaeh; — geheiaehen.

hauen (^1; Aaw0n,etG.); 2. A: kaweatf heweat ; B: haueat, heiuat; C: hamsai; 3. C: hauei; — hieb ; — ^p. p. A: gehawen; B, O: gahauan.

THE LANGUAGE OF J. G. SCHOTTEL. 431

laiHTen ; 2. ISmfii; 8. lai^,'—li^,'—gdca^f!Bn, •tOMen ; 2. ttoneti ; S. tionet ; — gtie$ j—gttUmtn,

d. ruffen ; 2. n^; 8. rvffl,'—T%^,'-—g€niffm,

This class shows few irregalarities. .In the 2. and 3. pers. sing. pres. indicative^ -a- prevails over -€-, at least in B and C, -e- being apparently used chiefly for the short sound. Noteworthy are the forms dosaest, stoMd, without umlaut.

H. C. G. VON Jagemann.

X.— A GROUPING OP PIGURES OF SPEECH, BASED UPON THE PRINCIPLE OF THEIR < EFFECTIVENESS.

Four years ago I read before this Association a paper apon a single figure of speech, — allegory. In order to make a careful study of that figure, it was necessary to give some at- tention to other figures, especially to these three, — simile, metaphor, and personification. From time to time during the last four years I have followed up trains of thought that were opened by my earlier study, and thus have been led almost unconsciously to note the various relations of the more important figures, until I have come to feel that the best way to arrive at an understanding of any one figure is to study figurative language as a whole as well as in its parts.^ f^ach year the subject has been brought anew to my mind by the necessity of presenting it in the class-room.

The college student ordinarily comes to us with very little knowledge of the figures of speech. He can, indeed, recognize in a mechanical way certain figures, and can label them with names ; but of their real nature, of the principle of which they are manifestations, he knows very little. In his own writing he either makes a lavish use of them for the sake of ornament, or more commonly through a feeling of timidity tries to avoid them. Avoid them altogether he cannot. As regards the use of figures, we should, in my judgment, attempt little more than to point out illustrations of their use, both appropriate and

^This paper is intended to supplement and in part to supersede tiie earlier paper, which appeared in the PuhlioatumB of the Association for 1S89. It restates and reinforces the theory of the earlier paper. Certain errors in detail which do not affect the truth of the main thesis, I need not specify ; one sentence, however, that beginning '' Personification addreeees itself" (p. 189; p. 49 of the reprint) 1 wish to cancel as entirely inadequate, and in part incorrect. At the time of writing the sentence I most have had in mind merely alphabetic personification.

432

A GBOXTPmO OF FIGUBEB OF SPEECH. 43S

inappropriate ; if this can be done in the student's own writings his gain will be the greater. For acquiring an apt use of figures the best means that I know is vigorous thinking ; and this we may secure in the student by leading him to write upon subjects in which he takes a genuine interest. I sometimes counsel my pupils not to say to themselves^ ^^Gro to^ now, I will use a figure ; '^ but to think hard, and there will come to them such figures as it will be wise for them to use.

Our problem, then, is not primarily to teach the use of figures of speech ; rather it is to teach the student to distinguish that which is essential to each figure, to understand, if possible, the principle of their effectiveness, and to recognize in the various figures various manifestations of this one underlpng principle. How shaU I present this subject to my class in such a manner as will be profitable to them ? is the question that I have put to myself from year to year : and my answer to the question is an attempt, first, to discover a principle of which every figure is a manifestation in some form ; and, secondly, to devise a grouping which shall be based upon this principle. To my presentation of the subject I give the modest name of grouping, for I do not attempt anything so ambitious or so scientific as a classification of figures ; yet I am not without the hope that it may be / possible to convert into something scientific enough to merit the name of classification the presentation which I have found to be effective in the class-room* To this end I shall welcome the closest criticism, especially of those who have had brought home to them the problem of presenting the subject in the class-room.

Upon a subject that has been discussed since the days of Aristotle, it is impossible to say much that is new ; indeed, the more I read, the more I am inclined to think that very little that is new has been said since the time of Quintilian. I must ask for my reader's patience, as I traverse ground that is famil- iar; though we come late in the day, and though our strength is feeble, yet there may be for us some scanty gleanings. In Modem Language Notes for December, 1886, appeared an

434 HERBERT E. QREEKE.

article by Professor Bradley of the University of California^ upon "The Classification of Rhetorical Figures;" in the closing sentence of his article the writer says that the object of his paper is to elicit future discuopn, and expresses the hope that such discussion " may lead to a lasting reorganization of this central department of Rhetoric." Two years later (De- cember, 1888) appeared in the same periodical an article on " The Evolution of Figures of Speech/' by Professor Fruit of Bethel CoU^ ; but it cannot he said that there has been an active discussion of the subject, or that any definite steps have been taken toward a lasting reorganization. To the above- named writers, and also to Professor Gummere, I wish to acknowledge my indebtedness for help and stimulus, even where I find it necessary to differ with them.

In a useful series of topics and references upon TJie Principles of Style, compiled by Professor Scott of the University of Michigan, the writer supplements his references upon "Figures" with the following words: — "While much good ink has been spilled in discussing the proper classification of Figures, little light has been thrown upon their origin or the principle of their effectiveness " (p. 26). If it were possible to agree upon the principle of their effectiveness, it might be an easier matter to agree upon a classification, — at least, upon a classification that would answer for practical purposes. Into the origin of figures I shall not attempt to inquire, beyond raising the ques- tion whether it may not be found by a study of human nature quite as readily as by an historical study. Undoubtedly, certain nationalities and certain types of character have shown a predilection for certain figures, and these nationalities and types of character have interacted ; in the matter of literary form the English literature has, perhaps, borrowed more than it has invented. Readily admitting this, and further admitting that it is in the early stages of a literature that we find especially prominent those traits which are most distinctly national, I would, nevertheless, maintain that any civilization, if it could have an independent growth, would in time develop all, or

A GBOUPING OF FIGUBE8 OF SPEECH. 436

nearly all, the literary devices that are in common use. One who has observed attentively the unstudied language of children, can have little doubt upon this point. Is it just to claim that the origin of figures, or of a particular figure, belongs solely to one nation, merely because that nation was among the first to develop a literature ? If the calculus could be discovered almost simultaneously by two men, if gunpowder could be invented in two nations many thousand miles apart, what shall hinder us from believing that so distinctive a trait of human nature as the use of figurative language may not have had, may not have, a manifold origin?

In his IntrodiLctUm to Aristotle's Rhetoric (published in 1867), Mr. Cope uses the following words, based upon a passage in the De Oratore of Cicero (III, xxxviii, 166): — "The origin of metaphor is the imperfection of language; where there is no term directly expressing a notion, the nearest analogy, the term which expresses that which most nearly resembles it must be employed as a substitute.'' Poverty of language is, then, the origin of the most important of figures. A different view is taken by Professor Gummere, who says that "a confusion, or if one will, flexibility of terms is the real origin of the metaphor^' (2%€ Anglo-Scujcon Metaphor^ p. 11). " Poverty of language" and " a confusion of terms.'' M ust we choose between the two ? For myself, I feel free to accept both hypotheses. If, however, I must choose, I prefer the former. " Poverty of language " indicates a struggle with an imperfect medium of communi- cation, and a victory over it, at least in part. "A confusion of terms '' indicates an imperfect wit, one that has at its disposal adequate means of expression, but does not know how to make proper use of them, and thus blunders into metaphor. It is impossible to make this last view tally with the saying of Aristotle, that " greatest of all is to be apt at metaphor. This alone cannot be got from another, and is a sign of natural ability ; ^ for to use metaphors well is to discern resemblances 'V

^ In his life of Milton, Mark Pattison, whose dassical scholarahip is anques- Uoned, has the following sentence (p. 192) : — "The power of metaphor, «. c,

436 HERBERT £• GREENE.

{Poetics, xxii, 9). I suppose our own observation will lead as to agree that the power of discovering likeness where there is apparent unlikeness is a sign of natural ability ; that the power of forcing words to do more work than they are in the habit of doing is a sign of natural ability ; and that to confuse two terms^ when one of them is capable of doing the work satisfactorily^ is a sign of a lack of natural ability. If the origin of metaphor lies in the poverty of language, then it is evident that there is no spe* dal need of looking to primitive man for its origin. The same need which men feel to-day, probably a greater need, was felt by primitive man; wherever the need arises, quick wits bend language, and make it serve their purpose. In this sense the origin of metaphor, the most important figure, lies about us, as well as with primitive man.

One of the precepts which the teacher of Rhetoric has frequent occasion to inculcate, is that it is usually better to employ specific words, such as, ^^ bricks and mortar,*' '' hammer and saw,'' than to use general terms, such as *^ building materials'^ and " carpenters' tck)l8." This precept is based upon the prin- ciple that the specific word is exact, and therefore clear and vigorous, while the general term expresses the meaning vaguely,

of indirect expression, is, according to Aristotle, the characteristic of genius." The reference is undoubtedly to the passage in the Poetiea quoted above. Whately, in his Rhetoric translates the same passage by the words "a marie of genius." I question whether the foregoing translations do not attribute to Aristotle's words, — c^^vtoi anifitioWf — more meaning than they will bear. On the other hand, Wharton's translation, ** a proof of cleverness," seems to understate the force of the original. Several eminent classical scholars have been so kind as to give me more exact translations of the passage. Two suggested independently ** natural ability ; ** this rendering, which I have adopted, is also employed by Cope. Another suggests that " happy natural endowment '* succeeds better in preserving the significance of the first part of the compound in tif^via. Perhaps, however, the word ''ability" preserves the force of c3 ; if so, I should prefer not to employ three words in order to translate one. George Eliot (Mill on the Flon, Bk. II, ch. 1) translates the phrase by *'a sign of high intelligence." The natural temptation is to give to the words all the meaning that they will bear.

A GBOUPIKG OF FIGtJBEB OF SPEECH. 437

.because it includes more than we mean. Suppose, now, that we say less than we mean ; suppose that we say ^^ bricks and mortar '' when we mean, not "bricks and mortar'* but "building ma- terials.'' We have crossed the line that separates literal from figurative discourse. We have chosen to suggest our meaning rather than to state it ; and we trust to the imagination of the reader to supply what we have failed to state. Take another illustration. In describing the outbreak of a war and the readiness with which patriots obeyed their country's call to arms, an historian might say, " The carpenter dropped his saw and chisel, and the farmer left his plow in the field. " This may be merely a statement of literal truth, or it may suggest much more than it affirms. It may suggest that the carpenter left all his tools^ and that the farmer left not only his plow but also everything else that had to do with his daily work ; that they, and many other citizens, left their homes, and all that made home dear to them ; and that they did so promptly and unhesitatingly. All this is clear to the undergtlipd'"gj if it is

stated in full ; of t}]ftt whin.h \f^ mfir^lv SUggestPf^, fht^ nndftr-

standing takes no cognizance. But the writer does not choose to state his meaning in full ; out of many possible details he chooses this one, " The farmer left his plow in the field," and trusts to the imagination of his readers to supply all that he has left unsaid. So, too, the words, " Consider the lilies " (quoted by Campbell, also by Professor Hill) may be either literal or figurative, according to the meaning which they were intended to convey. I have dwelt thus at length upon this point because I wish to emphasize the fact that the figure which goes by the name.x)f synecdoche stands at only a slight remove from literal language. A touch of imagination in the mind of the writer, if only it Be of the kind that compels a response in the mind of the reader, and that which is literal is converted into figure. If this be true, we have here the differentia between the literal and the figurative. Indeed, I would ask whether any other suggestions that may be made are not in reality various names

438 HERBEBT E. GBEENE.

for this single differentia^ — ^the presence of imagination in the speaker or writer, kindling a response in the hearer or reader.

Synecdoche, as Professor Gummere has said, is based apon a relation of space, — what Professor Fruit has termed intra-rela- tivity, — ^the relation of the whole and its parts; from this figure it is only a short step to Metonymy, which is based upon a relation of thought, — what Professor Fruit has termed extra- relativity, or the intuitions of necessary relation. Metonymy names things at a slight remove ; instead of naming the thing itself, it names something associated with it, and trusts to the imagination to supply what is not stated, — both the thing unnamed and the relation which bridges the gulf between the two. If the relations are necessary relations, the gulf is not a very wide one ; neither in synecdoche nor in metonymy is a serious demand made upon the imagination, though more is, perhaps, required in the case of metonymy.

From Metonymy (a change of name) it is only a step to the descriptive epithet or Kenning, as when we call bank notes green-backs ; hornets, yellow-jackets ; English soldiers, red- coats; a thief, a pickpocket. The examples that I have given point in the direction of metonymy ; but literature, poetry especially, abounds in Kenningar that point in the direction of metaphor. ^ In his short poem, " The Humble-bee," Emerson speaks in the first line of the " burly, dozing humble-bee," but after that names him only by means of Kenningar ; — " thou animated torrid zone," — " Zigzag steerer, desert

^ See the first paragraph of Charles Lamb's essay on *' Poor Relations " for an amusing list of descriptive epithets that are not used as Kenningar, though many of them are capable of conversion into Kenningar.

I should like to plead for the introduction into our text-books of the name Kenning. If we can adopt and use with ease Greek words such as Synec- doche, Metonymy, Metaphor, which even to most of thove who use them are mere names, surely we can adopt a word which is much more nearly English, and which is already known to students of Old English.' Epithet (a Greek word) is not so good a name as Kenning ; and it is possible to give to the latter word a definite meaning. The word, if anglicized, would naturally receive an English plural.

A GROUPING OF FIGURES OF SPEECH. 439

cheerer/' — " Hot midsnmmer's petted crone," — ^yellow- breeched philosopher ; " and in a sadden burst of imagination he has six Kenningar, completely filling as many consecutive lines, —

" Insect lover of the son, Joy of thy dominion 1 Sailor of the atmoq>here ; Swimmer through the wayes of air ; Voyager of light and noon; Epicurean of June."

The figures that we have been considering, — Synecdoche, Metonymy, and the Kenning, — ^are various forma of specific language, of choosing one part or feature to represent the whole. They stimulate the imagination, but they cannot be said to stimulate it to a high d^ree. These are figures that might be used by writers who have, ouly a moderate degree of imaginative power, but who have in a high degree clearness of mental vision, which is, indeed, one form of imagination. I pass now to a group of figures which make lariger demands upon the imagination. Their essential nature is that they point out a likeness between two things that to the careless observer offer no suggestion of likeness! the imagination is s^inaulated, penetrate beneath the surface^ and where there is apparent dissimilarity to detect a resemblance.

" How far that little candle throws his beams 1 So shines a good deed in a naughty world."

The simile is a formal, leisurely figure, which sets side by side with equal prominence the two objects compared. A briefer statement in the form of metaphor may not necessarily indi- cate greater imaginative power in the writer, but it certainly Qiakes greater demands upon the imagination of the reader. When Bassanio speaks of the '^ blessed candles of the night,^^ when Banquo says on a dark night, ^' There 's husbandry in heaven : their candles are all out,'^ something has been sup- pressed ; accordingly, something must be supplied. Where

440 HEBBEBT E. OBEENE.

there is not actual suppression of a term, but only an omisfflon of the oopula which indicates a formal comparison, we have what Professor Gummere terms the implied simile, as dis- tinguished from the stated simile. With his example I quote also his terminology, both for the sake of clearness, and because I wish to offer certain supplementary suggestions. A simile is a formal comparison between two things, x is like y : in pro- portion as we suppress one of the terms, our statement will assume the form of metaphor. As long as both x and y are expressed, we have simile ; when y only is expressed, we have metaphor. For example, " The sun is like the eye of heaven " is a simile formally stated ; ^^ The sun, the eye of heaven/* or ^^ The sun is the eye of heaven,'' is an implied simile ; both of and y are expressed, and only the copula is omitted. The like- ness is implied, though not formally stated. Now omit x, and we have Shakspere's metaphor, " the eye of heaven." Only y is expressed ; x must be supplied by the imagination. We see at once what a step has been taken, and what a large demand is made upon the imagination.

The metaphor makes the imagination do more work, and gives it moiepleasure than any other figure that I have named thusl&r. ^ In all the other figures there is some literal truth, SuttEe very essence of metaphor is that to the literal under- standing it is false, while to the imagination it is true.

K

" Methought I heard a voice cry * Sleep no more I Macbeth has does mnnler sleep,' the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the ravelPd sleave of care, The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath. Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second ooorse, Chief nourisher in life's feast, — "

Murder sleep? labor's bath? balm of hurt minds? death of each day's life? Impossible, says the understanding. Traei every word, says the imagination.

The superior effectiveness of metaphor is due in part to its brevity, to the condensed form in which it comes before the

A OBOUPIKG OF FIGURES OF SPEECH. 441

imagination^ and compels it to do its work in a trioe. A heightened form of metaphor is that which is so instinct with lile^and vigor that it has been set apart, and named Personifi- cation. That which is lifeless is represented as^having life. Such personifications indicate a vivid imagination in the writer, and call for a correspondingly vivid imagination in the reader. I quote the passage in which Hamlet rebukes his queen-mother : — ^

*' Such an act Tliat blurs the grace and blush of mtyesty, Calls virtue hypocrite, takes off the rose From the fair forehead of an innocent love And sets a blister there, makes marriage-vows As false a dicers' oaths : O, such a deed As from the body of contraction plucks The very soul, and sweet religion makes A rhapsody of words: heaven's face doth glow ; Yea, this solidity and compound mass. With tristful visage, as against the doom, Is thought-sick at the act"

How every word quivers with life I Very different is this from those frigid conceits which Coleridge calls "printers' devils' peroonifications," and which Lowell had in mind when he wrote of " that alphabetic personification which enlivens all such words as Hunger, Solitude, Freedom, by the easy ^ magic of an initial capital.''

** Contented Toil and hospitable Oare, And kind connubial Tendemees, are there ; And Piety with wishes placed above. And steady Loyalty, and faithful Love.''

Such personifications have about as much of life as has a stuffed suit of armor. A personification should be able to stand alone, without the prop of a capital letter ; it should conduct itself like a person, and should show by its actions that it has life.

^Quoted also by McElroy, The Sinutwre (^English Brfme^ p. 240.

442 HEBBEBT £• GREENE.

^ One step more^ and we reach in the figure known as Allegoi the farthest bound ; in the domain of figure the force of ima- gina£ioncah no farther go. Step by step that which is figura- tive has been displacing that which is literal ; but even in metaphor there is some hint of the literal. When we say " the eye of heaven," the word " heaven " makes it apparent that we are not to take the word ^' eye " in a literal sense. In genuine allegory all is figure ; there is not a trace of the literal. ^'The wheel is come full circle/' and again, as in thecase of synec- doche, we have language that may be either literal or figura- tive. Every word may be taken in a literal sense; every word is intended to be taken in a figurative sense. Under the apparent meaning, as under a veil, is bidden the true meaning ; and only an active imagination can interpret by the folds of drapery the form that is hidden beneath. Metaphor gives us y with a hint of x ; pure allegory gives us y without the barest hint of x. It is nothing more or less than a riddle. Of course pure allegory is a tremendous tax upon the imagi- nation, which is obliged at once to solve the riddle, that is, mentally to supply the missing Xy and to keep up a run- ning series of equations between the expressed y and the unex- pressed X.

The relation between simile, metaphor, and allegory, and the demand that each makes upon the imagination, may be illustrated by means of symbols in another way. Aristotle was, I believe, the first to point out the fact that the metaphor and the simile may be set forth in the terms of a proportion : — " As old age is to life, so is evening to day " {PoeticSy xxi, 6). This relation we may indicate by the symbols, A : B:: a : b. In the formal simile " Old age is like the evening of life," and in the implied simile, " Old age, the evening of life," only the first three terms in the proportion are expressed, and we have A I B :: a : x; but it is a simple matter to supply the fourth term of a proportion when the other three are given. The missing term ** day " is not needed, for it is as readily supplied as is the omitted member of an enthymeme. Indeed,

A OBOUPING OF FIGUBES OF SPEECH. 443

the act is one of logical inference rather than of imagination. In the metaphor^ '' the evening of life/' another term of the proportion has been omitted ; given the two means^ we are to find the extremes. This is a problem which can be answered, — answered in a variety of ways, indeed : perhaps the true answer will reveal itself more readily to the imagination than to the reason. In pure all^ory we have only a mention of " evening '* ; no mention whatever is made of " old age" or of " life " or of " day." One term of the proportion is given, i and the imagination must supply the other three ; probably it will content itself with supplying two.

As examples of pure allegory I might cite the riddles of Cynewulf, perhaps more interesting as puzzles, both as to meaning and as to authorship, than as literature. As a type of such allegory the mask is better than the veil. If, indeed, pure all^ory is merely a riddle, — and much of it is nothing more, — it is certain to fail of being widely interesting. The most successful all^ories are those which are the embodiments, not of a conceit, but of a symbolism that is based upon the great truths of human nature and of human experience. They aim, not at mystification, but at setting forth truth in an impressive ^ manner. The form of words in which the truth is clothed bears to the real meaning a relation not unlike that of the body to the soul ; and where there is an informing soul within, it will succeed in casting ^^ a beam on the outward shape." For the allegory in its nobler form is of imagination all compact, and will meet with a ready response in the imagina- tive mind. Examples of such allegory are dough's " Where lies the land to which the ship would go?" — Tennyson's " Crossing^the Bar" and "The Deserted House." Examples of this nobler sort of pure all^ory are not numerous, and they are all brief. A long allegory is almost as impossible as ^ a long lyric poem, and for the same reason ; in both instances the tax upon the imaginative power of writer and of reader is too great.

444 HERBEBT E. GREENE.

Most allegories are examples of what may be called im- perfect all^ory ; some clue to the meaning is given, at the outset, if nowhere else. A good example of sudi allegory is Mr. Gilder's fine sonnet beginning, " My love for thee doth march like armed men." Nearly all long allegories are imperfect allegories, and this is a mark of wisdom on the part g of the writers, for nothing can be more exasperatingly tedious than a long allegory which is continually baffling the reader's attempts to fathom the meaning ; such allegories Lowell must have intended, when he spoke of " the mirage of allegory." A long allegory commonly begins with a simile or a metaphor, thus drawing aside a corner of the veil long enough for the reader to gain some clue to what is beneath. So Buuyan gives a clue at the beginning of his great allegory : — " As I walked through the wilderness of this worldJ'

The use of allegory in its various forms is a feature of moral and religious teaching that is intended to arrest the attention. 4-The Great Teacher made frequent use of this figure in his parables: usually of im{)erfect allegory, as in the parable of the ten virgins, beginning with a simile, "Then shall the kingdom of heaven be likened unto ten virgins, which took their lamps, and went forth to meet the bridegr<x»m " ; or, as in the parable of the vine and the branches, beginning with a metaphor, " I am the true vine, and my Father is the husband- man " ; rarely he used pure allegory, giving no clue, as in the parable of the sower, " Behold, a sower went forth to sow." It is of this parable, the reader will remember, that "his disciples asked him, saying, What might this parable be?" (Luke viii, 9.) Apparently their imaginations were not equal to the demands of pure allegory.

Because so much of allegory is imperfect, the common understanding of the figure is imperfect. We judge by what we see ; for practical purposes our judgment may suffice, but theoretically it is inaccurate. Pure allegory is rarely noticed in text-books on Rhetoric. Some books purposely

A GBOUPING OF FIGUBES OF SPEECH. 446

make no mention of aU^ory ; since the figure has very little practical importance, such omission is certainly to be preferred to the catholicity of books which counsel the learner to practise the writing of aU^ories. Commonly, however, text-books teach without any qualification that all^ory is continued metaphor. Professor Bradley draws up an elaborate and interesting classification of about twenty figures ; from their company he calmly excludes all^ory, with the remark that it is no more a figure of speech ^^ than is a Novel or an Epic/' Such language must certainly be called hasty ; evidently he is thinking of the narrative element and has forgotten that it is not length, but absolute suppression of the literal meaning that constitutes all^ory. Theoretically, all^ory is the figure of speech, for it is all figure. I quote Professor Bradley's words: — " Rhetorical Figures — Figures par excetlence — are forms of speech artfully and significantly varied from what is recognized as the norm of plain speech" {Modem Language Notes, December, 1886, col. 281). Could there be a better definition of aUegory ? According to this definition, is not aUegory the figure par excellence^ Surely of all variations from the norm of plain speech it is the most artful and significant ; so artful, it appears, as to deceive the very elect. So long as aUegory can be deliberately excluded from a classification of figures, so long as text-books continue to give definitions that are either incorrect or inadequate, so long it will be necessary to reiterate the statement that allegory is not only a figure of speech, but is more completely a figure, more free from the alloy of the literal, than any other .^

One word more. Time-honored examples and time-honored consent have allowed the name of all^ory to a group of

^ In order to amure myself that the foregoing paragraph was not snper- flaoos or overstated, before sending it to press I examined with reference to the point under discussion twelve modem rhetorics, from Blair's (1783) to a book published in 1892. Ten of these twelve books give definitions of allegory that are inaccurate; one (intentionally) gives no definition; the definition in the twelfth book is correct.

6

446 HEBBEBT E. GBEENEt

alphabetic personifications^ abstract qualities masquerading in the garments of real persons. So long as this can be done with only an occasional protest here and there, it needs to be repeated that a group of statuesque personifications,— or even a group of walking personifications, — placed in a narrative, does not make all^ory. The personages of an all^ory should reveal themselves, not by their names, but by their actions ; / and the action should have a twofold meaning, a literal and a figurative. A character named Sansfoy, who acts in a fiuth- less manner, is not an example of all^ory in any true sense of the term; for both the name and the actions are to be understood literally.

My aim in this paper must be apparent to every reader. I examined first Synecdoche, the simplest form of figure, that which is at the smallest remove from literal language. By comparing the same form of words, first as literal state- ment, then as figurative language, I tried to ascertain the difierentia between literal and figurative speech ; and I found that it is the presence of imagination in the writer calling for imagination in the reader. I then treated the more important figures as forms of imaginative utterance, and found in them a blending in various proportions of literal and of imaginative language. Finally, I have tried to range these figures, — these manifestations of the imagination in varying proportions, — in a series which shall exhibit a constantly decreasing pro- portion of the literal, and a constantly increasing proportion of the imaginative. I b^in my series with synecdoche, the figure which stands nearest to literal speech ; and I close it with all^ory, which is at the farthest possible remove from the norm of plain speech. And this is my order : — Synec- doche, Metonymy, Stated Simile, Implied Simile, Metaphor, Personification, Imperfect Allegory, Pure Allegory, The Kenning, which points sometimes toward Metonymy, some*

A GBOUPma OF FIGUBES OF SPEECH.

447

times towards Metaphor, I place between Metonymy and Metaphor.^

Such a series as I have described will explain the fact that pure allegories are not numerous, that many attempts at pure allegory are failures, and that the successes in pure allegory are almost without exception brief. In fact, allegory is a figure which ought seldom to be used. The other figures from personification down are more serviceable ; some admixture of the alloy of literal speech renders them better fitted for circu- lation. Unless he has something of unusual importance to communicate, unless his OMm feeling is strong, a writer cannot with propriety expect his readers to place a tension upon the imagination. The accumulation of personifications in a pas- sage already quoted, — Hamlet's speech to his mother, — may be justified by the fact that his mind is wrought tip to a high pitch of excitement. He has come for the purpose of rebuking his mother ; he has just killed old Polonius, and for a moment thought that he had killed his uncle, the murderer of his father ; and with his own mind, as well as that of his mother, keyed up to a high pitch of emotion, he b^ins his reproof. What wonder that his language reflects the state of his mind? In the same way the exuberance of metaphor in Macbeth's speech uttered immediately after he has mur-

Imagikatiok

Pure Allegory

iperfect Allegory Pereonification Metapl

Implied Simile Stated SimiH

Metonjmj Synecdoche

^If the teacher of psychology is ready to avaU himself of the help afforded by a graphic presentation of his abstract teaching, sorely the teacher of rhetoric, which is in part a branch of aesthetics, need not disdain the use of similar illustrations. For indicating the steadily decreasing proportion of the literal, and the steadily increasing proportion of the imaginative I have found well suited for my {purpose the accompanying device, which is i^metimes employed by teachers of psychology and of logic

LiTKRAL STATEMEirr

448 HERBERT £. GREENE.

dered the sleeping Duncan, is justified by the intensitj of his feeling.

One objection that may be made to mj grouping, — and it is a vital one, if true, — ^is that the grouping is theoretical, and does not conform to fact ; that it is not true that the metaphor as such makes a greater demand upon the imagination than does metonymy ; that some instances of metonymy manifest more imagination than do some instances of metaphon This objection I should answer first by readily admitting its force in single instances, but also reiterating my belief that the concept which we name metaphor connotes a greater degree of imaginative power, a smaller proportion of the alloy of literalism, than does that which we call metonymy. Secondly, I should bring forward the distinction made by Wordsworth and by Coleridge between Imagination and Fancy, and I should assign to the domain of Imagination the figures based upon real relations and resemblances, and to the domain of Fancy the figures, based upon intellectual conceits; in the latter division would belong, also, frigid personifications and artificial allegories. Thus, within their proper domain, the relative positions of the figures would be unaltered.

As this point I must plead guilty to ofiering my paper under a misnomer. I have not, as my reader knows, been discussing figures, but I have dealt only with tropes. The distinction, which has never been set forth with more clearness than by Quintilian, is an important one.^ A trope is the turning of a word or phrase from its literal signification to another; while " a figure, as is indicated by its very name, — -figuray — ^is 9k form of speech differing from the common and ordinary mode of

^ Blair (Lecture XIV) says, — ''This distinction ... is of no great use; as nothing can be built upon it in practice ; neither is it always very dear.'*

President D. J. Hill, in his Sdence af Bkelorie (p. 203), says,— " Qain- tilian*s distinction between tropes and figures is of no practical Talue."

Professor Bain, in his EnglUh Oompontion and Bhdorie (Vol I, p. 135), says, — " The distinction is artificial, and turns on a point that has little relevance to the leading uses of the Figures in Style."

A GROUPING OF FIGURES OF SPEECH. 449

expression/* ^ A trope gives to a word new meaning ; while a figure is simply a matter of the order of words. Thus, antithesis and inversion are merely arrangements of words within the sentence. Shaping sentences^ and giving to words a new significance^ are entirely different things, and ought to receive different names. I ought to have had the courage to use in my title the word "tropes," for it is wholly with tropes that I am dealing. I might have been courageous enough to use the word trope ; but my courage failed me, when I thought of the necessity of making frequent use of the words "tropical" and " tropically." I should like to plead for a wider use of these words also, so that when we may wish to use them for the sake of precision, it will not be necessary to avoid them because of their oddity.

The study of rhetoric, which, when properly pursued^ is nothing less than a study of the means jyjgEjch-great writers have produced their effecte, is sometim^spoken of in a depre- ciatory manner; those who speak thus must have in mind what is understood by the term mere rhetoric, — fanciful conceits and a juggling with the order of words. The distinction between tropes and figures is the distinction between two orders of writers, between a higher and a lower imagination. This is the distinction between Macaulay and Carlyle. Macaulay is very particular about the order of words; he is admirably concrete in his choice of words, continually hovering upon the borders of synecdoche ; into the domain of the imagination he seldom advances farther than the simile. Carlyle appears to be careless about the order of words ; but he understands the art of turning them aside from their ordinary meaning, and making them do a vast amount of unaccustomed work. He is at home in the lofty air of meta- phor and of vivid personification ; at times he even penetrates and lights up the cloudy regions of all^ory.

^ Quintilian, InsL Orator, ix, 1, 4: — Figura, sicut nomine ipso patet, con- forniatio qnaedam a commnni et primnm se offerente ratione.

450 HERBERT £. GREENE.

Since the publication nearly forty years ago of The JPhiloso- phy of Style by Herbert Spencer, there has been a gradual consensus of opinion in favor of the view which he advanced^ — that the aim of all rhetorical devices is economy of the attention of the reader or hearer. In his Principles of Success in Litera- ture, George Henry Lewis shows that there are other laws whose working sometimes tends to counteract this law of economy. Without entering upon a discussion of the question whether economy of attention is the only aim of the devices of style, I wish to note the fact that while Herbert Spencer treats of the result, I am considering the means by which that result is attained. If we grant that the result of an apt use of figures is economy of attention, my aim has been to point out the means by which such economy is gained, namely, by calling in the imagination to lighten the burdens of the intellect. We know that

■

" It is the heart, and not the brain, That to the highest doth attain/'

and when the imagination and the understanding are yoke- fellows, increased work is done, and done with increased ease. When by the help of " thoughts that breathe, and words that burn,'' plain facts are made to glow with the heat of the imagination, they become not, indeed, any truer, but fiir more effective; and in the presence of the imagination we find the differentia, the principle of the effectiveness of figurative speech.

Herbert Eveleth Greene.

APPENDIX.

Proceedings of the Tenth Annual Meeting

OF the Modern Language Association

OF America, held at Washington,

D. C, December 28, 29, 30, 1892.

THE MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION

OF AMERICA.

Columbian University, Washington, D. C,

Wednesday y December 28, 1 892.

Tlie tenth aniiual meeting of the Association was called to order at 10 oVlock a. m. by the President, Professor Francis A. March.

The Pi'esident introduced Professor James C. Welling, Presi- dent of the Columbian University, who wel(X)med the Associa- tion in the following words :

Mr. President and gentlemen of the Modem Language Association, I am not here to deliver an address. I am here in the name of my colleagues, some of whom have the honor to be members of jour Association, and in behalf of the Board of Trustaet of this Universitj, to extend to you the right hand of fellowship ub we welcome you most cordially to all the hospi- talities which our University can offer. In this world of ours there are two great communions which are world wide and which have their visible and their invisible fellowships — the communion of saints, and the communion of scholars. I am glad to welcome you to-day to this meeting and to this fellowship. If you wish to attend the meeting of the communion of saints, who are also scholars, you may go into the adjoining room ; and if they wish to attend the communion of scholars, who are (more or less) saints, let them come here, for I think in this interchange of good fellowship, of scholarly fellowship with Christian fellowship, we shall all do each other good. I count it among the felicities of this University that has honored me as its President that it has been honored from year to year by the meetings of these associations. I assure you that in this touch of the hand, in these tokens of fellowship, we are strengthened, and year by year we are glad to have the links of this chain of fellowship more and more closely drawn. Again, I bid you welcome.

• • •

in

IV MODEBN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.

The Secretary of the Association^ Professor A. Marshall Elliott, reviewed briefly the published Proceedings of the last annual meeting, and presented the following account of the copies of the Pvbliocdiona on hand :

1884-1886. Vol.1. 100 1887. Vol. III., . 88

1886. Vol. II. 17

1888-1889. Vol. IV. (Complete Volumes, 27):

No. 1, ... 27 No. 3-4 (in one) . 102

No. 2, ... 81

1890. Vol. V. (Complete Volumes, 91):

No. 1, ... 613 No. 3, . . . 64

No. 2, ... 91 No. 4, . . . 110

No. 2 (Supplement), 107

1891. Vol. VI. (Complete Volumes, 69) :

No. 1, ... 69 No. 3-4 (in one), 92

No. 2, ... 80

37

1892. Vol. VII: No. I, No. 2,	48 No. 3, 46
	Proceedings (SeparaU).
1884, 1885, loo", . . .	144 1890, 30 1891, 45

• . . . oX

69

Lack of funds has delayed the publication of Volnme VII, No. 4.

The Treasurer of the Association, Dr. James W. Bright, then presented the following report for the year 1892 :

Receipts.

Balance on hand December 31, 1891, ..... $20 32

Annual Duee from Members —

Arrears for the jear 1890, $ 6 00

" •* 1891, 87 00

Dues for the vear 1892, 687 00

Dues in advance for 1893, 30 00

From Dr. M. D. Learned, for partial cost

of PMieaiioM, VII, 1, 126 00

From Dr. H. A. Rennert, for partial cost

of PublieationB, 7//, 3, 60 00

From Dr. T. Logic, for partial cost of Publi-

cations, VII, i, 68 00

Total receipts for the year, $1,035 00

$1,065 82

PBOOEEDINGS FOB 1892.

Acoonnt Books, $ 3 85

Stenographer, 65 40

Job PrlDting, 10 95

Postage and Stationery (for the Treasarer), 14 45

Does returned to G. W. Benton, resigned, . 8 00

Paid to Secretary for publication purposes, 920 32

Total expenditures for the year, $1,007 97

Balance on hand December 24, 1892, 47 35

$1,055 32 December 24, 1892. Balance on hand— $47 85.

The following Committees were then appointed by the Chair :

(1) To audit the Treasurer's report : Professor J. H. Gore

and Mr. A. N. Brown.

(2) To nominate oflBcers : Professors J. M. Gamett, J. W.

Pearoe, Greorge Hempl^ H. E. Green, T. Logie, H. C. G. von Jagemann, 8. Primer, J. T. Hatfield, A. Grerber.

(3) To recommend place for the next Annual Meeting : Pro-

fessors F. M. Warren, J. P. Fruit, G. M. Harper, J. Henneman, H. Schmidt- Wartenburg, T. P. Har- rison, J. W. Bright. Dr. J. W. Bright : It has been customary to relieve the Secretary by the services of an assistant during these sessions. I move that Dr. J. E. Matzke be appointed the Secretary's assistant for the present session. The motion was adopted.

Professor H. E. Green : In accordance with our usual cus- tom, I move that the time for opening the discussion of a paper be limited to ten minutes, and that following speakers be limited to five minutes each.

The motion was adopted.

The reading of papers was then begun.

VI MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.

1. Did King Alfred translate the Hustoria Ecdesiasiioa f By Dr. J. W. Pearoe, of Tulane University, New Orleans, La.

(1). Alfred could hardly have found time to translate anything into English.

(2). Alfred acknowledges the aid of Plegmund, Asser, Grimbold and John. — Pref. to Oura.

Asser aids more materially in translating Boelfaus. — Kennedy'ti transl. of Ten Brink, E. E, Lit., p. 78.

Did Asser, Plegmund, Grimbold and John, the teachers, leave no trans- lations, while Alfred, the pupil, left at least four?

(3). Do not these four translations, BoeihiuSf OrosiuSf Oura, Beda, difier inter m sufficiently to warrant the surmise that they are the work of different men ?

(4). Dr. Thos. Miller's study of the various MSS. of the O. E. Beda leads him to the conclusion that the traaslation was originally in the Mercian dialect

Compariion of the Latin Text with the Old English.

(1). Some parts are very freely and idiomatically translated — e. g., inter o/ia, Bk. 1, 12, 13; 11,3,6,13; 111,6,18,14; IV, 19, 24, 25; V, 22, 23. Other parts are very literal, for example, most of Bk. I. Could I, 4, 5, 6, have been translated by the same person that rendered II, 13; III, 13; or V, 23?

(2). The Prcefatio is far more freely translated than any other part — so freely that Wheelock, for the convenience of the reader, renders it literally back into Latin.

(3). The Oapitula, or chapter-headings, are extremely literal. This is evidence<l by the translation of the ace. and inf., the obL aba., and participial constructions generally.

Moreover, the Oapilula are grouped in a body at the beginning of the MS., as if they had been translated by one man supervising the undertaking.

Special Features of the Trandaiion,

(1). Dignus is sometimes represented by wyriSe with gen., sometimes by wyt^e with dat. or innt., sometimes by a different locution entirely. The references are as follows, figures indicating pngc and line of Miller's text: 38-28, 40-16, 40-26, 78-21, 80-31, 130-3, 164-12, 166-16, 166-21, 170-29, 172-11, 190-31, 192-11, 198-10, 204-9, 206-6, 206-12, 218-30, 220-22, 254- 7, 260-5, 2(50-8, 282-17. 294-27, 328-25, 344-17, 358-29, 364-2, 374-23, 384-9, 398-19, 404-15, 418-13, 422-22, 484-23, 476-19.

(2). PrcRemt, in such sentences as Edwinus Britonum popidis prv/uit, is trauHlated (1) literally hy, fore bean (wesan), (2) more freely, hj fore bean {toesan) with adv. phrase like in aldordome, (3) by a more idiomatic phrase-

PIUXSEEDINGS FOB 1892. vii

ology. References: 32-4, 92-3, 100-19, 108-32, llft-10, 126-6, 142-29, 146-27, 148-3, 158-4, 164-20, 168-34, 194-7, 208-6, 220-27, 236-30, 238-29, 240-14, 250-1, 252-18, 264-30, 260-22, 272-13, 280-30, 292-3, 294-3, 300-6, 810-6, 316-5, 334-4, 336-6, 338-9, 340-16, 344-18, 358-30, 382-1, 384-15, 386-26, 390-29, 398-16, 404-18, 418-26, 434-23, 446-20, 448-16, 448-22, 468-16, 478-12, 478-17, 478-24.

(3). Odo usually appears, of coarse, as eaAto, but three times as nigon; and at least once, perhaps twice, it was misunderntood to mean uofon. Ref- erences: 26-1 26-18, 32-11, 32-21, 46-6, 46-29, 64-22, 108-13, 118-23, 148-6, 176-30, 192-22, 256-1, 262-15, 274-28, 278-27. 298-28, 304-21, 310- 16, 312-11, 324-17, 330-26, 356-17, 360-5, 406-20, 446-4, 470-21, 472-28, 474-3, 480-15.

(4). Beda's present tense (used of events of his own time) appears some- times as present, sometimes as past. A few references: 4-3, 4-12, 4-25, 28-29, 92-25, 120-4, 142-11, 144-20, 146-21, 188-30, 206-6, 216-22, 268- 16, 282-3, 282-7, 282-9, 300-13, 308-;n, 318-25, 320-18, 334-23, 378-12, 382-19, 398-15, 398-16, 408-23, 408-24, 410-23, 422-16, 446-19, 448-9, 448-19, 478-12, 478-17, tt seqg.

In this connection there are some instructive omissions from the O. E. References approximate: 142-7, 144-22, 16ft-16, 184-9, 300-13, 35^16, 434-10, 466-9 ; and some noticeable insertions : 144-9, 186-33, 216-22, 37^ 12, 448-9.

(5). Dates are generally translated in full. However, in some instances, the number of the year is omitted, but other matter translated (as the year of a king's reign) that would serve to fix the date ; in some instances the number of the year is omitted, but the month and day translated; and in a few passages no indication of the date appears. References to Book and Chapter: I, 2, 3, 4, 6, 6, 11 (2), 13, 15, 23, 34; II, 1, 3, 5, 7 (2), 9, 14, 20; III, 8, 14, 1:0, 27(2); IV, 1, 5(2), 12 (2), 23, 26 (2); V, 6, 7, 8 (2), 11, 18, 22(2), 23(4).

After weighing the evidence presented by this study, it is not difficult to form the conclusion that the O. E. Beda is the joint work of several trans- lators. There are other indications. Thus septem appears once (III, 20) As/eower; undeeim once (IV, 5) as Vreoiiynt; novem once (IV, 26) as thta; and tredecim once (V, 22) as twel/f though these words are elsewhere inva- riably translated correctly. The poetical word dogor is found once in IV, 3, twice in IV, 8, but nowhere else. Likewise rorfor, not found elsewhere, occurs twice in V, 12, and no other word for he/iven is used in this chapter except in the phrase heofona nee.

Perhaps the HUt. Ecd. was translated by the monks in a monastery [Dr. Miller suggests Lichfield] where some were better scholars than others ; perhaps by tlie pupils in some school, with the occasional aid of their teachers. To point out definitely what parts were translated by one, and what by another, is exceedingly difficult, and, up to this time, 1 have been

VIU MODERN LANGUAGE A880GIATIOK.

able to identifj, to mj own satisfactioD, at least, only a few portioiis as the work of separate peiBonn.

The Prtefaiio Beems to have been turned into O. £. by one who iranalated no other part of the work. My reasons for this conclusion are: (1) the translation is here more liberal than anywhere else; (2) Beda'a present teuse is here invariably reproduced; (3) diicipuluB occurs twice in the PriEfcUio, where it is each time rendered by Uomung-enUUj elsewhere inva- riably by diseipuL

The OapUula may be the production of a different translator. I have already mentioned the literalness with which they are translated, and the fact that they are grouped together at the beginning of the work. Let as note now the error in the following headings :

1.2.

Ut Britanniam primus Romanorum Caius Julius adierit. Dset se erra Komwara casere Qagius Julius Breotene gesohte.

I, 3.

Ut eandam laeiL insulam] secundus Bomanorum Claudius adieos . . . Dset se seftera Romwara casere, Claudius haten, >«et ylce ealond geaohte . . .

This genitive construction occurs several times elsewhere, bnt is nowhere

else misunderstood.

Note also these :

I, 9.

Mazimus in Britannia imperator creatus . . . Mszimus se casere wara on Breotene acenned.

I, 11.

GratianuB et Constantinus in Britannia tyranni creati . . . Gratianus 7 Constantius waeron on Breotene acende.

Til is last is the error of a beginner, a blunderer. It occurs twice also in the body of I, 8. Unfortunately for comparition, I have been unable to find another instance of the use of creor in a precisely similar sense.

In the bo<Iy of chapters 2, 3, 4, 23, of Book I, the phrase ineamoHo Dcmini (or Dominica) is translated OrisUs cyme or OrisUs hidercyme; elsewhere in- variably Drihtnes mcnniscnes or seo DrihUnlice menniscnea. This may serve to stump these chapters as the production of one man ; and such coi^ectare is strengthened by the mis-translation in ch. 23 of the date 582* as 692.

Finally, the last chapter (23) of Book V seems to be distinguished from those that immediately precede it (1) by a general excellence and liberality of translation, (2) by an excellent rendering of proseue, which occurs three times, and (3) by the reproduction (except in two instances) of Beda'a present tense, which occurs in almost every line of the chapter.

PB0CEEDING8 FOR 1892. IX

The discussion of this paper was opened by Dr. J. W. Bright and continued by Professors H. E. Greene and J. M. Gramett. Professor Pearce, in reply to questions^ added :

My belief is that this work was translated in a monastery or a school, and not by any one man isolated from others. I believe that the OapUiula and several chapters of Book I were translated by King Alfred himself. I can give you no incontestable reason for this, but I am satisfied that they are the work of some one man — if not of Alfred, then of some other. The error pointed out in the use of the past participle ereaiius occurs several times in the Oapitula, and it occurs, if I remember rightly, in chapter 8 of Book I. That, I think, fixes those parts pretty surely as the work of one man. Then there is an extreme literalness extending through chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 and 8. Chapter 7 (on the sufferings and martyrdom of Saint Alban) I take to be by some one else. I believe that all of the OapUula and the chapters that I have mentioned in the first book were translated probably by King Alfred, but at all events by some one man, and that then the work was passed over to some collection of men to be finished ; that while translator A, for instance, was at work, translators B, G and D were at hand, occasionally helping with a word or a phrase.

Professor Francis A. March :

Perhaps I might say a word about the matter in a general way.

It seems to me the investigations have an air of going further from the opinion that has been commonly held about these books than the facts warrant. It has been known, stated, and understood that King Alfred, who had all kinds of business on hand, was helped by his Bishops and scholars to make his translations, and the process by which it was done implies that he did not create the translation word by word, so to speak, but that he listened to, looked over, corrected, approved, or recomposed at his pleasure the work of his co-laborers. We know that the King James version and our later revised version of the Bible were made by bodies of men translating separately, and that in each one of these bodies there were eminent scholars who would be sure to do pretty much the whole of the real work in them, and it might be interesting, and perhaps profitable, to attempt to point out the work of each different translator and editor. Or take Pope's translation of the Odywey^ which we know was mainly the work of others, while Pope did this, that, and the other part, and was responsible for the style. We also know that Raleigh, in hb History oj the Worlds had the assistance of secretaries to bring him his materials. This working through secretaries is becoming more and more familiar. There are continual illustrations of it in our active workers in public life to-day. A statesman is said to be preparing a great speech. That means that his secretaries are at work for him gathering materials. He makes

X MODEBK LANGUAGE AflSOCIATION.

the speech off-hand. It might be interesting to analyze the ^>eecheB and detect, from the mistakes or peculiarities of style here and there, which one of his secretaries prepared this and that part. Alfred's work has always been thought of as open to a similar analysis. It does not seem to me that the investigations now making give a new view of his authonhip ; but they are none the less interesting on that account.

Professor A. Marshall Elliott :

I have been working for a year or two on the fables of Marie de France. In the epilogue she claims that she translated these fables — rhymed them, as she calls it — from English into French. The acceptance of this statement has found favor with certain French scholars, but upon investigation of the subject, at the British Museum a year ago, I was totally unable to find any hint of the fact, in editions of Alfred by English scholars, that he ever did any such work either directly or through a secretary. This is an interesting point in connection with the idea of the division of labor in producing the work discussed by Professor Pearce. Marie distinctly states :

Li reis Alvrez qui mult Tama Le translata puis en engleis E jo I'ai rime en fran9ei8.

The question then arises, if that was the tradition in her time, and it was not true that King Alfred wrote or had these fables translated, who did ? Mr. Jacobs, in a recent work, TKe FabUt of Aemp, discusses this point. It is a little aside from the subject before us, but it shows that matters similar to those emphasized in the paper come up in a more general field.

2. The Absolute Participle in Middle and Modem English. By Professor C. H. Ross, of the Agricultural and Mechanical College of Alabama.

The discussion was opened by Professor J. M. Gramett :

I consider this a valuable investigation. Some years ago, in a paper read at a meeting of the Association in Baltimore, I had occasion to quote a line from Hamlet:

" Which done, she took the fruits of my advice.**

I remarked at the time how seldom u pupil could be found who could satis- factorily explain that construction. It is clear to my mind that the view which Professor lioss takes, and which had been previously taken by Dr. Bright, is the correct one in regani to tliis matter. Every year I have to correct the statement in Genung's Rhttoricj as to this construction being rare and not idiomatic English.

PRCX^EEDINGS FOR 1892. xi

There is one point on which I am glad to have been enlightened. While we are all familiar with the frequency of this construction, doubtless imi- tated from the Latin, because that exerted a great influence upon the syntax of Anglo-Saxon prose, I am glad to be informed that the cases in Middle English are so rare. That would look as if the people (who were really the makers of our Middle English, and not the writers), were not under the influence of this Latinized style of the Anglo-Saxon prose writers, and it was only after a more ornate style began to be used in English that the construction was revived and has become so common in modem times. Certainly it is only since the beginning of the Early Modern English period, as Professor Ross has well shown, that the construction has become so excee<Hngly common.

I hope, if this paper is published, that Professor Ross will illustrate the periods of English and the occurrence of this idiom in examples from the writers he has quoted, so that we may see for ourselves just how far such a construction was common in the Early Middle English period, and how it increased from Chaucer on through the Late Middle Enprlish period and afterwards in the sixteenth century, in the Ettrly Modern English period, where we have it certainly very common in Shakespeare at the close of that century, and so on through the after-centuries. It is a very natural idiom, and that the view taken as to the so-called nominative absolute, namely, that it is derived from the Anglo-Saxon dative absolute, is the correct one, seems to me to follow naturally of itself from the relation in which that phrase stands to the rest of the sentence. It takes the place of an adverbial element, occupying the position of some conditional, or causal, or temporal phrase. It is such a relation as would be expressed by the ablative absolute in Latin, or the genitive absolute in Greek, an oblique case used absolutely.

The discussion was coutinued by Professors J. W. Bright, H. E. Green, J. T. Hatfield, J. W. Pearce and J. E. Matzke.

Professor Francis A. March :

As to this matter of the participle absolute, it strikes me, as it did Pro- fessor Greeu, that the common statements in r^ard to the rhetorical force and use of the ablative absolute are correct, and that it requires very judi- cious and careful handling to make good English sentences that abound with ablatives absolute. This construction of a noun and participle standing for a clause, without any finite verb for aflSrmation, seems to me to belong to two stages of language — one a very early stage, prior perhaps to what our scientific men call thought proper. They say there is no thought unless there is an aflirmation or proposition. But there are sensations and feelings, there is a jotting down, we will say, of sensations or feelings, uttering a noun, the name of some object, and adding to it descriptives without making aflirmations.

Zll MODERN ULNOUAQE ASSOCIATION.

The use of such clauses of utterancy is growing with some of cor modeni writers. Browning, for example, often runs together numbers of such looae^ clauses or memoranda. There will be a verb somewhere in the distance before and somewhere in the distance behind in these collocations of jottings, but which one of those verbs they are really related to is a puizle ; they will go with either or neither — to my mind, and in all probability in his mind, with neither. He has reverted to the pi ior judgment state of mind. Walt Whitman has pages of such clauses. It seems as though he composed, as is said, sitting on top of an omnibus, riding down Broadway, thinking rhyth- mical collocations of objects and descriptives, not meaning to make judg- ments, but merely to utter his sensations.

In such primeval clauses the absolute noun would naturally be in the nominative case. There are, perhaps, relics of that early stage recognized in grammars — captions, for example, and the like.

Then there is the developed absolute clause which has been talked about this morning, where a sentence expressing the time or cause or concomitant of the main thought, and connected to the principal verb by a conjunction or relative pronoun, is compacted as a sort of adverb into the main sentence. When a subordinate clause expressing time, for example, has a noun in it which may represent the time, that noun is put in the oblique case which indicates time, letting the verb, turned participle, follow and agree with it. There is nothing mysterious then about a noun and the participle which is absolute with it, which throws it into the dative, the ablative, or the loca- tive case. The subject of a participle would naturally be in the nominative case; but because the clause as a clause is to denote time, the time termi- nations spring up in the mind naturally and attach themselves, not quite logically always, to the first noun that presents itself to take them. That makes it possible to incorporate subordinate clauses of time and manner into the principal clause, saving words neatly and making the whole neem more compact.

It has come to pass, as has been described by Prof. Bright and Prof. Boss, that there is no longer power in the English language to exprebs this relation of time, or concomitant, by endings of nouns, and we substitute a prepf)8ition for the ending. The modern representative of the old dative absolute would be a preposition with an oblique case. But that we do not use. The preposition exposes the illogical phrase. We use the nominative case in place of the dative. It is suggested that we still recognize this nominative as a disguised dative in case of nouns, and regard the nominative of pronouns as illogically used. According to the line of thought which I have presented, it seems to be proper to call the absolute clause in English a development, to say that the form of the absolute clause in which the nominative case is used with the participle has simply and naturally taken the place of the one in which the noun was put in an oblique case by a certain attraction and confusion of thought.

PBOCEEDING8 FOB 1892. Xlil

I should prefer, aooording to the line of thought here presented, to speak of the subjects or quasi-subjects of these absolute clauses not as being disguised datives, but as being developed nominatives by which the relation of the substantive to the participle is expressed instead of the relation of a time clause to the main clause.

AFTEBNOON SESSION.

The Association was called to order at 3 o'clock by the President.

3. The Sources of Udall's Roider Doister. By Professor Greorge Hempl, of the University of Michigan.

The paper was discussed by Professors J. W. Bright and A. Gudeman.

4. The Oardenet^s Daugfdti* ; ovy the Pictures, By Profes- sor John Phelps Fruit, of Bethel Coll^, Ky.

A work of art is an organic whole. As such it means interdependence of parts, functional relation of parts. As such unUy and harnumy of parts are essential and fundamental. It is ** a full circle of dependences," where- fore compUUness is also essentiaL

Completeness means just enough : a little lack or a little superfluity is not completeness. Overfulness is not completeness. Redundancy in a work of art produces a feeling akin to that of one who has eaten to satiety of some good thing, and yet has something left over which he cannot get rid of, but must hold in his hand. The care of the superfluity mars the pleasure of what has been appropriated. The too much of a good thing destroys the pleasure of the "just enough.''

Bightly has a work of art been called a creation, for what but creative insight and energy is adequate to the making of a whole out of parts inter- dependently related ?

As the anatomist finds the human organism fearfully and wonderfully made, so the student of literature finds in his domain literary organisms, works of fine art, just as instructive and interesting.

That combination of parts which makes an organic whole is constructed for a purpose outside of itself. It is a purpose in the mind of the artist, his pleasure, for without doubt superlative pleasure does come with the exercise of creative power. While the prime object of the artist is the gratification of the imagination, he yet works at any given piece of art with a specific purpose, controlled somewhat by the material in which he works.

ZIV MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.

The pleasure to the student is in r«-creating. He finds the specific pur- pose for which a work of art exists, and then notes how workmanship makes significant insignificant materials to express the purpose. It is the workmanship shown in adapting materials to express a purpose thai pleases.

In order for a student to find the aesthetic essentials in a work of art, it is necessary for him to get, first, a simple apprehension of the work as a whole, then proceed to a knowledge of the parts, and further to a knowledge of the parts of the parts, thus coming to an adequate knowledge of the work. Beginning with the simple apprehension, he ends with the compre- hension of what he has undertaken to study.

In a piece of literary art the first thing for the student to do is to take a concise but complete outline view of it, like, in all respects, for example, to the * argument ' that prefaces a book of Paradise Lost. Taking this first short outline as a unit of measure, he should write out the argument to twice the length, then to three times, and four times, and so on, till all the parts and items have fallen into their proper places. It is easy to under- stand that the student thus gets first an idea of the work as a whole, and goes step by step to a knowledge of the parts, finding as he proceeds the fitness and harmony of the parts, coming at lattt to a knowledge and enjoy- ment of the completeness of the whole.

IjCt us exemplify the method in a study of The Oardenfr'a Daughter; or. The Pictures. A brief answer to the question. What is the Oardener^B Daughter about ? will give us the appreheuKion of the work as a whole. The Oardener*8 Daughter is about two brothers in art, one of whom, Eustace, loved Juliet, and painted her. A masterpiece it was. He challenged his friend to paint like that. At Juliet's suggestion this brother in art goes to see Rose, the Gardener's daughter. He loves, and paints a picture that

" May not be dwelt on by the common day."

So short a sketch reveals the purpose of the poem, namely, that Love must dominate the artist. It is better expressed in the reply that the friend made to Eustace's challenge:

" 'Tis not your work, but Love's. Love unperceived, A more ideal Artist he than all."

Take this longer draft and observe how the skeleton begins to take on the flesh and form that will make it a thing of beauty. The poem tells of two brothers in art whose friendship was the fable of the city where they dwelt. Eustace was muscular and broad of breast, and by some law that holds in love was drawn to a miniature of loveliness, Juliet. Eustace painted her. Then he said to his fellow :

** When will you paint like this?"

The brother artist replied that it was not his work but Love's. Juliet, sitting by, suggested :

PR0CEEDIKG8 FOR 1892. XV

" Go and see The Gardener's daughter : trust me, after that, You scarce can fail to match his masterpiece."

Professor H. E. Greene :

After listening to a paper like this, one is more inclined to reflection than to expression. Prof. Fruit's method and his presentation of it are so clear there is little need, perhaps, of discussion. The best way in which we can discuss the paper, it seems to me, is to state in what waj his plan is avail- able for us in our own teaching.

There is within this Association a pedagogical section, and to that section this paper distinctly belongs. At one time there was a feeling, I remember, that too much attention was given to discussion of methods. Certainly, there can be no fear at the present time that too much attention is given to discussions of that kind. Every teacher must work out for himself his method of teaching. The only method that is of practical use to him is that which he has thought out, and whatever method he has thought out he must be ready to adapt to the conditions he meets with in his teaching.

Premising this, I would add that the method which Prof. Fruit has given us, is one that may be of use to nearly all teachers of literature. In the first place I shall point out that it is pedagogically sound. There are certain principles which all of us, I suppose, employ, sometimes consciously, sometimes, it is to be hoped, unconsciously, and therefore instinctively. We know that the true order of learning is from the par- ticular to the general, and then from the general to the particular. This order is followed out by Prof. Fruit in his plan ; first synthesis, then analysis based upon that synthesis. We read a poem, for example ; the title may give us some slight clue as to what is to follow, but of what is to follow we are entirely ignorant As we read it, bit by bit there comes before us one particular after another, and we have a mass of particulars. Experienced readers may be able to see at once the general principle that pervades them all, and to see in them an exemplification of that principle. Certainly, the inexperienced reader is not altogether able to do this. By means, however, of the first reading, we are able to form this synthesis and to build up a general notion of what the poem is about; and that, I take it, is the plan, the argument, which Prof. Fruit suggests should be made. Then, having a knowledge of what the poem is, on the second reading we can make our analysis, or application of this general principle in a series of details con- stantly widening, and can use each detail for the purpose which the author intended it to serve.

There b one more step which should be taken, and although Prof. Fruit has not mentioned it distinctly in his paper, I doubt not that he uses it in his teaching. First the particulars, then the grouping of the particulars mider the general ; then from the general to the particular ; and once more

ZVl MODERN LAKaUAaE ASBOCIATIOK.

from the particular to the general. That is, first the imperfect ajrnthesii, then the analysia, and then the more perfect synthesis. We know that the true knowledge is intuitive. I take it that Prof. Fruit means as much hy his term "simple apprehension/' and not until we have redaoed oor knowledge to "simple apprehension," — in other words have made our knowledge immediate, — haTe we the fullest knowledge.

In our teaching, I suppose, we are inclined to place greater emphasis upon one or another of these steps — perhaps to omit one of them. In teaching older pupils we often omit the first step; unskillful teachers omit it in teach- ing younger pupils. It should not be forgotten, howcTer, that the second step cannot be taken until the first step has been taken either by the pupil or by the teacher. If the first step has been taken incorrectly, how shall we l)e able to take the second step with any success ? We see in the details which come, one after another, an application of a general thought. It is to express the thought that the poem is written. We ei\joy the workman- ship ; but the workmanship is for the sake of the thought, not the thought for the sake of the workmanship. For this reason we get first at the thought ; in the workmanship we see the thought embodied.

I have sometimes asked a pupil to take a narrative and give its sobetance in two pages, in one page, in half a page, in six lines ; what is newest to me is the plan of adopting a unit and then modifying that, multiplying by one, by two, etc. The question occurs. When does the right moment arrive for stopping the process?

English literature is a subject which almost every one thinks he can teach, until he comes to teach it ; then he finds that it is one of the most difficult subjects. We ask a pupil to study a poem. It is a grave matter to him, for he does not just know what to do. If we give him the same thing in Latin or French, he can translate it, for there is something definite to do.

Some of you may have seen an article published within the year by Pro- fessor Hart on the scientific method of teaching English literature. The teaching of English literature is a different thing from applying, with more or less discrimination, laudatory epithets to this or that poem. The plan suggested by Professor Hart is admirably direct. The pupil is asked these questions : — What was the author's aim in this work ? What are the means that he has used to accomplish this end? With what success has he accom- plished that end ? Such a definite study as is induced by these questions throws a flood of light upon the work. The pupil in doubt as to how to work, loses his feeling of vagueness, and knows what to undertake and in what manner to undertake it.

One objection that might be raised to this plan of Professor Fruit's is that of time ; it certainly would consume a great deal of time. Objection can be made to any plan suggested. I think Professor Fruit's answer to this objection, — I think it would be mine, — would be that it will take a great deal of time, especially at first ; but that the result will justify such a use of time and that if the plan is pursued, it will in the end result in a saving of time.

PB0CEEDINQ8 FOB 1892. Xvii

5. The L^end of the Holy Grail. By Professor Greorge M. Harper, of Princeton Coll^, N. J.

Professor F. M. Warren :

The discussion of a paper like this is practicallj impossible, for the reason that so much ground is covered and the writer has limited himself to sum- ming up the theories in regard to the legend. In order to discuss it with any degree of seriousness, we are obliged to attack some one of the theories, which would throw the field open to general discussion.

When we consider the difficulties that surround the subject we will see how impossible it will be to gain much in a short discussion. We know that especially those who are interested on the German side of the subject — such men as Foerster and Zimmer, deny in toto the conclusions Professor Harper has given us to-day, seeing nothing Celtic whatever in the story of the Grail.

I therefore call attention to one or two points. I think we are obliged to rely on the first man who wrote on the subject, and what we do not get from him, we simply surmise. In my opinion, he wrote the story of the Grail not far from the time when he wrot-e his other stories. They were written between 1160 and 1180. In regard to Robert de Boron, the general theory in regard to his version of the Christian Legend of the Grail has been discussed at length by Gaston Paris in a Preface to his Merlin in the Early French Text Society series.

In regard to the poet himself, if we read his poems he is found to be a man of no invention whatever; he versified; a court versifier of stories which came to his eye and ear, — I should judge they came merely to his ear. There is a story known to all of us — the story of Iwain, in which he made serious gr^ps, showing that he does not understand the matter and that you cannot rely on him.

What Prof. Harper says relates to Chrestien's poem. The Knight of the Grail, or the Knight as we may call him, arrives at a castle hidden from sight ; enters and is entertained by the knight of the castle ; he sees carried through the halls the lance with a drop of blood, but refrains from asking questions ; soon after comes through the dish which gives out the light ; next morning he cannot find any one of whom he can ask a question — he has been warned not to ask any questions ; the castle disappears and he sets out on a pilgrimage.

In my mind there is no doubt, judging from other poems of Chrestien de Troies, that he got the story of the talismans and the other story at the same time, and that he did not put these two stories together, and that the whole thing came from one source; what it was we do not know. I wish to em- phasize the fact that we have got to come back to Chrestien.

The indefiniteness of the story would sho^ that the legend had not been developed.

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his son-in-law. The professor lectured on Anglo-Saxon aznoDg other things. He had imported Anglo-Saxon books, then curioaitiea. He held them up and exhibited them to us, as he lectured, exactly as the natural history men did precious shells, or minerals. He said there were only two or three men living who knew anything about the language. He was work- ing on one of the Webster dictionaries, and I became interested in the phi- lological side of English.

In 1846, as a teacher in Leicester Academy, Massachusetts, I made my experiment of teaching English like Latin or Greek — hearing a short Grammar lesson, the rest of the hour reading Milton as if it were Homer, calling for the meaning of words, their etymology when interesting, the relations of words, parsing when it would help, the connection of clausea, the mythology, the biography and other illustrative matter, suited to the class.

In 1855 similar studies were begun at Lafayette College, but on a higher plane. Students who had nearly finished their Latin, Greek, French and German took two terms of Anglo-Saxon and Modem English. A profes- sorship was established for this study. It was thought that it was the first of the kind. The most important peculiarity of the teaching in the mind of the professor was, that it was work upon Anglo-Saxon and English texts to read and understand them ; not lectures about the languages, not lessons in descriptive or critical dincourse about them, not a rhetorical but a lin- guistic study. There were no good text-books in 1855. Anglo-Saxon was studied for some years in Barneses DeUclua, In 1861 the difficulty of im- porting text-books led to the making of American books. Love of the work led to the making of a CbmparcUu^ Grammar of Anglo-Saxon, beyond the ken of publishers of that day. The Modem Language Association of America will welcome a word of commemoration of the Trustees of Lafayette College, who had before set apart time for these studies and funds for ])rocuring the apparatus of research, and who now personally paid the principal cost of publication. The Orammar and Reader came out in 1869-70.

In 1875 the United States Commissioner of Education sent out a circtdar to our colleges inquiring about their study of Anglo-Saxon. Twenty-three colleges then claimed to be reading some of it ; the University of Virginia (1825), Harvard (1851), Lafayette (1856), Haverford (1867), St John's College (1868), Comell University (1871), Columbia C>)llege, the Univer- sity of Wisconsin, Yale, in the Sheffield School and post-graduate course. Most of the others were just beginning. The University of Michigan was ''sorry to say that the study is not pursued at all;" so was Dartmouth. Princeton said it might be introduced hereafter ; so did the Central Uni- versity at Richmond, Kentucky, and Vanderbilt University. Eight claimed to Htudy it incidentally. Only sixteen were content with simply stating that they did not study Anglo-Saxon. Slight as this showing seems now, there was at that time, probably, nowhere else so much of this study as in

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America. Profesflor Child says, in his answer to the circular of the bureau, that " Anglo-Saxon is uUerly neglected in England — at present there is but one man in England that is known to know anything of it — and not exUn- rivdy pursued anywhere in America." The Germans, he adds, "cannot do their best for want of properly edited texts. Two or three American scholars, devoted to Anglo-Saxon, would have a great field to distinguish themselves in, undisputed by Englishmen."

The eighteen years since 1875 have seen great advances; Sweet's Anglo- Saxon Header appeared in 1876, The Early English Text Society began to furnish materials for the Germans, and the press has teemed with critical studies, as well as text-books. This Anglo-Saxon study, delightful and important in itself to specialists, seems also to be necessary for a solid and learned support to the study of Modern English in college. The early professors had no recondite learning applicable to English, and did not know what to do with classes in it. They can now make English as hard as Greek.

The introduction of studies of research in which looking up and reporting the contents of books is prescribed, and evidence of having ex^unined books is taken instead of original thinking or mastery of thought, has greatly affected the study of English. Programs of researches of various kinds abound, so that a college class can be put through English literature very happily. The old teachers make light of this substitute for original think- ing ; but it is good, for all that, and is leading forward. We are having an outcry just now against stopping to study particular passages in literature, urging rapid emotional reading, the seeking to produce love of reading rather than knowledge of books^ — love of reading all the new magazines, I suppose, and newspapers, and novels, and facts that are stranger than fiction, instead of spending days and nights with the great authors.

But professors who aim at the highest usefulness and the most honored position must labor to give profound knowledge, and excite lasting love of great books and devotion to great thoughts. Their linguistic studies must be scientific as well as historical, deep and not vulgar. Their literary studies must be mainly upon great authors.

What books, what works shall we choose for study in schools and colleges ? Those which contain weighty truths, important facts, close packed, expressed in musical simplicity, or with rhythmic distinction. Bacon is such an au- thor, whether he comes home to men's business and bosoms in his fSuoys, or, as they said of Plato, speaks the language of the Gods in the rhythms of The Advancement of Learning, Benjamin Franklin is such an author, not attaining, to be sure, the rhythmic distinction which seems to be caught from the Greeks, for Franklin never heard Homer sing his apameibomenoB ; but surpassing Bacon in knowledge of that style which characterises the workings of God in nature, in the knowledge of which Sir Isaac Newton suggests that genius mainly consists, and surpassing Bacon also in cultured and cosmopolitan simplicity of style.

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Important documents of American history afford good examples. The Dedaration of Independence^ which has every trait of distinction, weight of thought and rhythmic movement; Bills of Bights ; great passa^ee in the luminous decisions of Chief Justice Marshall which shaped the law for America; and in the speeches of Webster, of like weight and greater eloquence.

We do well also to study American authors of lyric poetry. Bryant will bear study. The Thanatopeia is a noble poem. The imagination that takes the whole globe and all its ages into one view, as naturally and simply as a country church-yard, and speaks the gentle words of Nature to the raoe^ stealing away the sharpness of death, — this is a higher power than that which sings the elegy of any swain in a country church-yard; though Gray's elegy is a joy forever.

In somewhat the same vein of thought, it may be said that Lowell's Agassiz is far better worth prolonged study than Tennyson's In Memoriam. Lowell was a supreme man, by natural endowment, by culture of the schools, by profound study and masterly criticism of the great literatures, by acting a great man's part in affairs, by experience of life ; a king of men. Agassii was another king of men. The poem has every distinction of thought and style, every varied music of rhythm with which such a poet should celebrate the memory of such a friend. It is a far higher strain than the doubts and broodings of young Tennyson over his college friend, the " laborUnu oriaU ivory gphert in sphere" of his sonnet meters, beautiful as many of them are.

Longfellow, too, and Emerson have a lift away from the constraints of English thought ; liberty, purity, hope, love, speak in their pages. They seem provincial to the English ; so, we know, did the Athenians to the court of the great king, and to the hierophants of the immemorial lore of hundred-gated Thebes.

MOBNINQ SESSION (Thursday, December 29).

The President called the Association to order at 10 o^clock.

7. A Grouping of Figures of Speech, based upon tlie Prin- ciple of their Effectiveness. By Professor Herbert E. Greene, of Wells College, N. Y.

Professor John Phelps Fruit :

In a certain sense figures originate in the poverty of lan^ruftge ; but I am incline<i to think that that is an unfortunate expression. The natural facts of the universe come into the human mind and are idealized. These ideated forms are preserved in the memory, and it is in terms of these ideated forms that we communicate our thoughts. Our mind, oar thoughts belong to the

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invisible nniverse, and through means of the natural facts, or the visible factS) we make plain the unseen ; so that it depends upon the natural facts, rather than the poverty of language. If we are poor in natural facts, in ideated forms, then are we poor in figures of speech, because a natural fact represents a mental or spiritual fact, and it is this natural fact, used to represent a spiritual fact, that makes the figure of speech. If we have one natural fact, or two natural facts, as our stock, we can have two metaphors, or in combination, three metaphors. It is a poverty, not of language so much, as a poverty of thought ; it is a poverty of the mental ability to see that a natural fact represents a spiritual fact. A grouping of figures for effectiveness seems to me to be a little difficult, for we must say figures are to be used for a certain purpose — effective for a certain purpose. Suppose we are to use figures for instruction ; simile will come first. Suppose we use figures for the purpose of addressing the feelings ; metaphor will come first. When we define the purpose, we have a principle of logical division that controls the grouping.

Dr. Greene's grouping, according to the amount of imagination exercised in interpreting, is very interesting, but it is not clear how it is a grouping "for effectiveness.'' In what way, general or particular, is the grouping effective ? For what purpose is the grouping effective ?

Professor Greene :

Professor Fruit made a series of figures, placing simile at one pole and antithesis at the other. It seems to me that this is confusion. He appar- ently agreed with me as to the distinction between trope and figure. Anti- thesis is not a figure at all in the sense that I mean. Antithesis is not a trope. It is a contrasting of two things that may be perfectly literal in intention, at least. Antithesis does not necessarily have anything of imagin- ation in it. If it had, Macaulay would be one of the most imaginative of writers. Simile has imagination in the sense that it compares something literal with something else, and makes the imagination do a part of the work. It is possible, by the use of simile or of other figures, to express thoughts which cannot be expressed in literal language because of the poverty of language. To express all our thoughts, we have to make some words do more work than they will bear literally. Take, for example, the figure familiar to us all used by Longfellow in Evangeline :

" Homeward serenely she walked with God's benediction upon her. When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing of exquisite musia"

He described Evangeline in that way ; he could not have done it by the use of literal terms. The poverty of language made him use this means.

Professor Fruit says that language represents spiritual facts. Perhaps he will allow me to say it can be made to represent spiritual facts. It is by the use of figures that we make it do what it does not ordinarily do.

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As regards simile being addressed to the nnderstanding. It is addreased to the understandiDg and also to the imagination. It is addressed more to the understanding than some other figures, — more than metaphor. Meta- phor requires more imagination than simile ; but in all these figures, except allegory, there is required a blending of the understanding and the imagina- tion. Allegoiy, he says, is readily understood. It ip, rather, felt or per- ceived. Children, he says, understand allegories. Don't they perceive them? Don't they feel them? A child has an active imagination. Its understanding is not very great It feels, realizes, gets the force of the allegory ; by its help the child understands what it might not understand simply in the form of a literal statement.

Once more I call attention to the fact that I spoke of in regard to the use of the parable. It was imperfect allegory that was best understood. When pure allegory was used, the disciples said, " What might this parable be?" (Luke, viii, 9.) Take the parable of the tares. The disciples said to the Master, ** Declare unto us the parable of the tares.'* (Matt, xiii, 36.) That was something their imagination was not equal to,— something they were not certain that they understood.

The discussion was continued by Professors J. W. Bright, J. Pollard and J. T. Hatfield.

8. Guernsey : its People and Dialect, By Professor E, 8. Lewis, of Princeton College, N. J,

Professor A. Marshall Elliott :

I wish only to make one or two remarks in connection with this paper. Dr. Lewis undertook the work at my suggestion. Some years ago I was on the island of Guernsey, and I was impressed then with the great importance of having a scientific work published on the subject of the Guernsey Dia- lect. Dr. Lewis was kind enough three years ago to collect the material, a suggestion of which he has presented to you here this morning. This material is entirely too technical to be read before a general audience, and is of particular interest only to specialists and one engaged in phonetic work. The writer has simply given you a sketch outside entirely of his scientific work, with only a suggestion of the possibilities of the develop- ment of the work. The importance of such a treatise is suggested immedi- ately to any one who considers the position of the Channel Islands, and has a knowledge of the language used in England during the Norman Conquest.

The Channel Islands to^ay preserve many of the older forms of the lan- guage that belonged to the English — in other words, the natural transition from the Continental French to the old Anglo-Norman French as used in England in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. This is an important

PROCEEDINGS FOB 1892. XXV

fact. It is hoped that such a Btndj will show the importance of the con- nection between the speech of the islands of Guernsey, Jersey, etc., and the old language. The application of it is shown by a single example which Dr. Lewis presented to you — ^the development of a Latin o giving you eight different forms. So the writer might present a number of other cases as strong as this one.

The importance of the study, then, is one that has a bearing on the English language on the one hand, and on the French language on the other — from a dialectal point of view a very great importance to-day, as we are working at the dialects of north, north-east, and north-west France. This study should show a mingling of the currents of English and French that meet here and settle into definite form of language.

There are three distinct drifts of speech : the old language which belonged to England (the Anglo-Norman), which was transferred and mixed with the old language of the Continent, which, in its turn, was carried to the island; then the modem English current, and beside that the modern French current. These distinct currents of speech Dr. Lewis has attempted to trace in the scientific part of his work.

9. The Literary Burlesque Ballad of Germany in the Eighteenth Century. By Dr. C. von Klenze, of Cornell University, N. Y.

The ballad literature which flourished in Grermany from about the middle of the eighteenth century to the beginning of our own was the best expres- sion of the great revulsion which took place at that time from artificiality to nature, from French models to English models. For just as the work of Bodmer and Breitinger, of Lessing, Herder and others was one powerful protest against the overwhelming French influence and the rule of literary ideals the effect of which was ruinous to Germany, because they were the product of a national character differing in many essentials from the German character, so Burger's ballad Lenore and a large number of bal- lads of a similar nature, modeled on the poetry of the people, were a protest against the burlesque ballad. This burlesque ballad had flourished for some time before the appearance of Burger's Lenore. It was imported from France by " Father " Gleim about the middle of the eighteenth century, immediately found favor, was taken up by many poets and did not disappear from German literature before the end of the century. It was avowedly a parody on the poetry of the people, and consequently the protest against it and the return to popular poetry for models on the part of Burger and his followers was a sign of great latent health in an apparently exhausted nation.

Popular poetry had played a most important part in the intellectual life of Germany in former centuries, and might have continued to do so had not

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political convulsions and had not humanism, with its anti-popular ideals, turned the attention of the cultured from the people and crushed much of the vigor of the lower classes. A glance at the history of popular poetry In Germany will better enable us to understand the poaition of the burlesque ballad in German literature and the nature of the protest implied in Burger's Lenore.

In the earliest times all ix)etry was " Volks-Dichtung/' ^ using the word ** Volk " in its widest sense. That is, all classes were on a level, there was no distinction between the cultured and the uncultured. This condition of things lasted in Germany down to a comparatively recent period. The Heliand bears in every line the characteristics of popular poetry. In contrast with this Otfrid's poem is the work rather of a learned pedant than of a man of the peo[)le, and here and there in the religious poetry which follows, we find forces foreign to the people. But it is not until the middle of the twelfth century that we can speak of sets of works as the products of a distinct class. From, roughly speaking, 1150 on we find a brilliant literature produced by and addressed to one part of the nation rather than the whole nation. The Minnesanger and the court poets presuppose an atmosphere which the people never breathed.

The culture of mediieval court life based on scholastic ideals and the social and moral code of knighthood was destined, however, soon to decay in Germany, and court poetry went down. Once more the gap was dosed, once more there was a literature of the people in the widest sense. Scho- lasticism lost its hold on Germany long before humanism became popular, and so it happened that from about 1450 to about 1550 the atmosphere was favorable to the poetry of the people. Furthermore, the religious discus- sions and the political convulsions stimulated the whole intellectual activity of the nation. Consequently we find high and low, rich and poor, clergy and laity taking part in a wonderful upheaval of popular poetry. The Volkslieder which have come down to us, and which may be studied in the collections mentioned above, are the exponents not only of the age which produced them, but in them we find incased, like insects in amber, many reminiscences of the old Germanic life (cp. the Kranzlieder, Uhland's VoUuL No. 3) or younger spurs of time honored forms of literature (like e. g. the

^ See Uhland's invaluable essays on the " Volkslied'' in the third volume of his works, Schriflm zur Oeschiehte der Diehtung u. Sage, Stuttgart, 1866; furthermore Uhland's ('ollection of Volkslieder (2 Vols.) Stuttgart and Tu- bingen, 1844 and 1845 ; R. von Liliencron, DetUsehes Leben im VolktUed ton 1530 (the thirteenth volume of Kiirschner's National' LUteratw). Impor- tant literature on the subject will be found in Uhland's notes to his essays and in Liliencron, p. iv, seq. See, too, Koberstein, Orundrisi der deutacKen NaiionaUiilercUurf 5th ed., Vol. I, p. 324, seq. ; Wackemagel, Oeaehichte der deuischen LiUercduTy Vol. II, Basel, 1885, J 95 ; Scherer, Oeaehichte der deuUehen Litteraturf p. 253, seq.

PB0CEEDING8 FOB 1892. XXvii

Thierfabely cp. Uhland's Volkd. No. 205), or remnants of the old " Weltan- schauung " (cp. Uhland's VoUcal. No. 8, in which we have a reflex of the old personification of the seasons).

Many Volkslieder, among them some of the most powerful, owe their existence to the political and religions events and sentiments of the times (e. g,f Uhland, No. 349, Liliencron, Nos. 1, 6, 9, 22, 25, and others).

All the songs of the people are characterized hj great simplicity and direct- ness, and through most of them runs, like a golden thread, a wonderful love of nature. The element of the supernatural is strong in these poems ; animals and flowers are made to understand the troubles of man (cp. Uhland, Nos. 16, 20, 94, and others).

llie Volkslied reached its culmination about the middle of the sixteenth century. After that, the ascendency of humanism with its classical ideals separated for good the cultured from the uncultured. The political disasters, too, which supervened, sapped the people, and the Volkslied languished. During nearly two centuries the poetry of the people was neglected, the influence of French literature, with its ideals of refinement and court-life, doing its share in keeping the cultured away from the people, until in 1756 Gleim introduced the burlesque ballad as an attempt at reviving interest for popular poetry.

The Volkslied, we saw, was the true exponent of the national spirit ; the burlesque ballad was in all essentials a parody on popular poetry.

Gleim published in 1756 three burlesque poems of an epic character, which he called " Komanzen." ^ His biogragher, Koerte, tells us (Gleim's Leberif Halberstadt, 1811, p. 45) "Gleim's Absicht bei den Bomanzen war besonders den Volkston zu treffen," but adds^ " und jenen Sangem an den Straasenecken, die mit den Stecken die gamalte Leinwand erlautern, bes- sere Verse unterzulegen.'' In other wonk, the singers at fairs were to his mind the true exponents of the popular genius. Consequently his ballads and those of his followers are as contemptible rubbish as ever passed for valuable literature, and remarkable only as the expression of a strong undercurrent of low literary taste contemporary with the appearance of the greatest works in German literature.

^ Tlie following remarks on the burlesque ballad are based on my disser- tation "Die komischen Romanzen der Deutschen im ISten Jahrhundert," Marburg, 1891 (to which I refer for all details), written under Professor Schroeder. The literature on the subject is not large. I give only the most important references: Holzhausen, ''Die Ballade und Bomanze von ihrem ersten Auftreten in der deutschen Kunstdichtung bis zu ihrer Aus- bildung durch Biirger,'* Zaeher'a Zeitaehriftf XV, pages 129, seq., and 297, seq. See, furthermore, Goedeke, OmndrisB zur OeschiehU der deutschen Dichtung, Dresden, 1862, Vol. II, pages 637, seq. ; furthermore, Koberstein, Orundrias der deiUschen NaiionaUitteratur, fifth edition, Vol. V, J 847 ; Sauer's edition of Burger's poems (in Kuerschner^B NaHonaUUleratur), p. l, seq.

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This view of the burlesque ballad as a '* Bankelsangerlied " determined the character of the ballads of Gleim and of his followers in many details, as we shall see.

Gleim's Romanzen are characterised by shallow wit, obecenity, and the introduction of many anachronisms. It would lead too far to quote any of them here ; they may easily be found in his complete works, Halberstadt, 1811, Vol. III., pages 95, seq.

Gleim's burlesque ballads were received with delight, and soon found imitators.^ It is almost incredible what a flood of similar poems was to come down on Germany before the end of the century.

A few years after the api)earance of Gleim's first Romanzeti, J. F. Loewen (the same who is known in Lessing's biography) published five Bomanzen with melodies (reprinted in his Works, Hamburg, 1765), which out^lid Gleim for silliness and which added an element of coarseness from which the gentle Gleim would have shrunk. In 1769 the same Loewen published a new collection, and in 1771 a new edition of that with a few additions. In 1773 an edition of selected poems by Schiebeler came out which con- tained thirty-two Romanzen, which he had published at intervals from 1767 on. In 1774 a volume by Geissler appeared in Mitau ; in the same year Ilirschfeld published a selection of Romanzen by well-known Roman- sen poets (containing forty-six). In 1775 Grahl published Romanzen; in 1778 the second part of Hirschfeld's selection of Romanzen appeared, and in 1780 there came a collection of poems, many of them Romanzen, enti- tled Leyerlieder, the like of which for low wit might not be found in the history of eighteenth century literature. Besides these, hosts of burlesque ballads api)eared in the anthologies and Musenalmanache (of which the age was so fond), and in the collected works of poets who wrote Romanzen only occasionally. A few names will show how many circles were interested in this kind of literature. Burger (who was to make the most powerful pro- test against the Romanzen by writing the Lenore) published some of the most objectionable of all ; so notably the Romanze entitled Europa (see Bauer's edition of his poems). Among his friends, Boie, Hoelty and Miller tried their luck in burlesque ballads. Even Goethe's circle was afiected. H. L. Wagner, Goethe's friend, wrote several Romanzen. Besides these, well- known men like Gotter, Claudius, Pfellel wrote burlesque ballads in larger or smaller numbers. All their Romanzen have silliness and low wit in common.

After the burlesque ballads had had their sway, there began a new species of burlesque poems, the travesties of ancient classical works. The first poem of this kind is Ltben und 2'haten dea theuren Hdden Aenea§, Halber- stadt, 1771 (see Joerden's Lexicon deidtcher Diehter und Pronisien, Vol. Ill, p. 571). Then came the famous travesty by Alois Blumauer, Abenteur des

* It may be remarked here that the burlesque ballads are sometimes called ** Romanzen,'' and sometimes " Balladen."

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firommen Helden Aeneas^ 1784-8, followed in 1790 by Haebner's Fenoan- delU Ovidiaehe Venoandlungenf and manj others of the same kind.

No anthology or Mosenalmanach was complete without some Romanzen. The OoUmger and the Vos^tehe MuaenodnumacKe were perhaps as popular media for the publication of burlesque ballads as any of the periodicals of the day. We find Romanzen in the former as early as 1770 and as late as 1791. Besides these, the Almanaeh der deuUchm Mwen contains a large number of Romanzen. Even the Merkur did not deem it below its dignity to publish several of them, as did also the Wandtbeeker Bote and the Leipziger Musenalmanaeh. By and by, new periodicals published Romanzen. From 1780 on we find them in the Preussisehe Blumenlese published in Koenigsberg, in 1781 in the Franl^ier Musenalmanaehy in 1782 in the Nuemberger Blumenlese, in 1784 and later in the Schwaebwehe Blwnenk»e published in Tubingen, in the same year and later in the Wiener Musencdmanach. Between 1793 and 1797 the Berliniseher Musen- almanaeh published Romanzen in several of its issues. This list of peri- odicals is by no means exhaustive; many others like the ArUhologU der Deui8chen, etc., contain burlesque ballads.

After the publication of Gleim's Romanzen in 1766, no poems of the kind appeared until Loewen published his five Romanzen in 1765 ; in 1767, 1769, 1771, Schiebeler published collections of Romanzen. From 1770 to 1780 they came in large numbers every year from almost every part of Germany. After the end of the ninth decade they began to grow rarer.

It is almost unintelligible to us how any one could have considered these Romanzen valuable. Yet some of the leading critics of the day could hardly praise them enough. Men like Moses Mendelssohn and the critics of the Klotz'sche BiblioUiek, of the Neue Bibliothek der sehoenen Wissen- Mhafterif even of the Merkur, speak of many Romanzen, among them Loewen's and Hoelty's, with high praise.

The burlesque ballad as it presents itself to us in the literature of Ger- many in the eighteenth century was patterned in large part on foreign models. Spain, Italy and France had developed a civilization in which the popular element played a poor part, and it is from France and Spain that Gleim got much of his inspiration. He tells us himself, ''Der Ver- fasser fand in einem uralten franzosischen Lehrbuch den Namen und bald nachher in einem franzosischen Dichter, in Moncrif, die Sache.'' This Moncrif (1687 to 1770) wrote three lyrico-epical poems of the burlesque order after one of which {Les corulanUa amours d!Alix el d^ Alexis) he fash- ioned his first Romanze, Marianne, But Moncrif himself was influenced by the Spanish poet Gongora (1561 to 1627, see Ticknor, Hiet, of Span, LiLf London, 1863, Vol. III., pp. 18-23), who also wrote burlesque ballads.

Other works were used by Gleim's followers in writing burlesque ballads, notably the Recueil de Bomanees Hixtoriques Tendrea et Burlesques, etc, 1767, 2 vols., which was a great source of inspiration, especially to Loewen; furthermore, Livy, Ariosto, Don Quixote, F^n^lon's TSUmaque, even Field-

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iDg's Tom JmeSf and others. It should be noticed, too, that we find ballads dealing with Doctor Faust.

One kind of burlesque baUads should be mentioned especiallj; those which take their subjects from Ovid. Ovid was very popular in the eigh- teenth century (see Lindner, Lehrreicher Zeilvertreib in Ovidianisehen Vet' wandlungen, Leipzig, 1764), but the German Ovid-ballad was imported, like the other styles of burlesque ballads, from abroad.

Quevedo (1580 to 1646, see Ticknor, Vol. II, pp. 274, seq. ; VoL III, pp. 74, 77, 412) seems to have been the first to write burlesque ballads based on Ovidian stories (see Pamaao Eapaflolf edition Madrid 1729, Thalia VI., Romance XC). The Frenchman S^nec^ (1643 to 1737) imitoted Quevedo in this. Others followed ; so Scarron, Marmontel, and especially Gr^coart in a poem called Pigmalwn {Oeitwet, Paris, 1763, Vol. IV, p. 73, seq.) which though differing in some respects from the ordinary ballad-style, resembles it in all essentials. The Germans got the suggestion for the Ovid- ballad from the French. Schiebeler shows his indebtedness to Gr^urt in his ballad Pigmalum. He wrote a large number of Ovid-ballads and was followed by many others, among them Hoelty and Burger. The travesties of classical epics were also modeled on French works. Scarron wrote his famous VirgiU travesty en vers hurlesques (1648-51) and others travestied other classical works. Scarron himself seems to have gotten his suggestion from the Italian Lalli (1572-1637, see Morillot, Scarron et le genre bturiesquey Paris, 1888, p. 142). •

A comparison between the German burlesque ballads and the works of Rabener, Liscow, and Gellert shows a close connection between the former and the contemporaneous literature.

Sensuality and adultery are favorite subjects of the burlesque ballads. There is an explanation for this in the low ideal of marriage in the eigh- teenth century (see Biedermann, Deutsehland im 18ten JaKrhunderiy Leipzig, 1867, Vol. Ill, p. 38). Other burlesque ballads are aimed at the aristocracy, at the clergy, at poets, critics, actors, etc. The range of subjects is very large. Even the appearance of Werther called out burlesque ballads.

The knowledge on the part of the German ballad poets of the burlesque literature of Spain and France introduced many elements which are paro- dies on popular poetry. So, for instance, in the German burlesque ballad, apparitions of all sortn, the ghosts of the dead, the devil and the infernal regions, are introduced to furnish an element of burlesque terror. Fur- thermore, to many burlesque ballads a moral, generally of a burlesque nature, is attached, or the whole poem is made to teach a burlesque lesson.

Gleim regarded, as we saw, the ballad singers at fairs as true representa- tives of the popular genius, and hoped by his Romanzen to furnish them with better texts. His first Romanzen show traces of this view in every verse, and as his followers adopted many of his methods, a large number of burlesque ballads imitate the technique of singers at foirs. So we find many ballads with enormously long titles (see Gleim's three Romanzen in

PROCEEDINGS FOB 1892. .XXxi

the third volume of his worksy p. 95 seq., or Burger's Ewropa in Sauer's edition, p. 157). This trick is supposed to imitate the harangue of the ballad singer who tries to attract the attention of the populace. In the same way we find frequent exclamations ; sometimes they are addressed to the whole public, and sometimes only to certain classes.

The meters of the burlesque ballads are all variations on a very few themes. The iamb prevails to the almost complete exclusion of every other metrical unit. The stanzas generally consist of four lines, although many of six and eight lines are also found. The shallow polish of these ballads contrasts curiously with the fascinating ruggedness of the Volkslied. . . .

The burlesque ballad, we saw, kept a place in the literature of Qermany down to the beginning of the nineteenth century. But long before its entire disappearance the best minds began violently to protest against it. In the Bri^toesehael iiher Ossian und die Lieder alter Volker (1773), Herder expressed in powerful language his contempt for the burlesque ballad. The key note was struck, and Germany found in G. A. Biii^er the poet, who, thoroughly appreciating the beauties of popular verse, introduced into Germany a new form of poetry based on the songs of the people, to which belong gems like Goethe's Erlkonig, The first poem of this nature was his Lenort (see E. Schmidt's exhaustive essay, ''Burger's Lenore," in his CharakUrMken, Beriin, 1886).

In the Lenore we see the old poetical spirit which had produced the Volkslied bursting all bonds of artificiality and, interwoven with the spirit of artistic training and culture, producing a healthy and beautiful form of poetry, the serious literary ballad.

Professsor H. C. G. von Jagemann :

I think one would understand from the paper read b^^ Dr. von Klenze that the ''burlesque ballad" went out of use and disappeared with the publication, or at least soon after the publication, of Burger's Lenore, Such ballads, however, as those of which the author of the paper has given speci- mens, may be heard to this day in Germany at all the fairs in the villages and small towns ; I have myself often heard them and, it seems to me, they have all the characteristics of the " burlesque " ballads of the eighteenth century. Furthermore, I am inclined to think that the " burlesque " ballad existed previous to the eighteenth century. If an event occurs that takes hold of the popular imagination, it would, most naturally, be treated in a way that appeals to the taste of the masses of the people. Now, if the event is one of great importance and is remembered long afterwards, it is treated in a variety of ways, and it is natural that some one of these forms should be more meritorious than others and acquire a greater and wider popularity, and then we have a historical Volkslied. So the origin and nature of the historical Volkslied is the same as that of the "burlesque" ballad, except that the latter treats of less important and more easily for-

XXXll MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.

gotten eyents, such as the murder of a woman by her husband. Thus the '' burlesque '' ballad is a species of Volkslied, unless the word " burlesque" implies artificial and intended satire, and the ballad owes its origin to a particular writer that deals in this species of poetry.

Professor H. C. G. Brandt :

I got the same impression from the reading of the paper that Dr. voo Jageman did, thai the burlesque ballad has stopped now. I see now that the real title of Dr. von Klenze's paper should have been, The Burlesque Ballad in Classical Literature; and of course that would throw it into the eighteenth century. There is a burlesque ballad now, or a parody of the Volkslicd, as Dr. yon Klenze and Dr. von Jagemann have stated. I remem- ber as a boy, at the fairs of my native town, hearing the ' Bankelsanger ' sing. They had a sort of chart, or war map, strung up on a pole, which presented a series of six or twelve pictures. Most of tlu*8e horrible 'mur- der-stories* would begin —

" Horct diese Mordgeschichte, Die sich zugetragen hat."

I wish to ask Dr. von Klenze if he knows the ballad of the terrible robber Rinaldo Kinaldini, and whether that goes back to the eighteenth centur\' ?

Dr. von Klenze :

I do not know it.

Professor Brandt : That was very commonly sung, and set to very good music. It begins —

In des Waldes tiefsten Griinden, Und in Hohlen tief versteckt, Wohnt der Rauber aller kiihnste.

That sounds very much like a survival of the eighteenth century bur- lesque ballad.

Professor J. E. Matzke :

I should like to add a word or two with regard to the origin that is attrib- uted to the burlesque part of the Volkslied, namely, its indebtedness to Spanish literature. In connection with that one thinks, at once, of that other department of literature which for its success is dependent upon the crowd, namely, the drama. It is very curious to notice that the Spanish idea of what is comical, from the earliest times, is that of a travesty. The *bobo* or ^simpUf* or by whatever name it may be called, in the early drama, is always a travesty either of the common man or of his master.

PBOOEEDnros FOB 1892. zzxiii

This tendency is still more characterised in the later comedies, where tlie servants always imitate the loves and intrigues of their masters. These comedies osuidlj contain a second plot, and this is always a travesty of the general plot.

The Committee appointed to nominate officers for the year 1893 then reported as follows :

For President, Professor Francis A, March.

For Secretary, Professor James W. Bright.

For Treasurer, Professor John E, Matzke.

For the Executive Council : Professors Albert S. Cook, H. C. G. Brandt, H. C. G, von Jagemann, Walter D. Toy, J. B. Henneman, Morgan Callaway, Jr., H. A. Todd, G. A. Hench, F. M. Warren.

For President of the Phonetic Section, Professor A. Melville Bell. For Secretary of the Phonetic Section, Professor C. H. Grandgent.

For President of the Pedagogical Section, Professor Charles Harris. For Secretary of the Pedagogical Section, Professor A. N. Van Daell.

For the Editorial Committee : Professors A. Marshall Elliott and T. W. Hunt.

The report was accepted, and on motion the Secretary cast the ballot electing the above candidates to the offices named.

AFTEBNOON SESSION.

The Association was called to order at 4 o^clock.

10. MS. 24310 and other MSS. in the Paris National Library which contain French Metrical Versions of the Fables of Walter of England. By Professor T. Logic, of Williams College, Mass.

Professor A. Marshall Elliott :

Prof. Logie has touched upon a subject that is fascinating, and one cer- tainly in which no two individuals have yet agreed throughout Fable literature. When you come back to the manuscripts, you get still further

3

ZZXIV MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.

off. ^ch iDvestigator finds difficulty in being consistent with himself m hiB investigation proceeds.

There are two or three questions suggested hj the paper that I should like to ask. One of the MSS. he has examined and presented the results of that examination to yon here, 24310, is a MS. that I have had occasion to ose in connection with Marie de France. Speaking of it in particular with refer- ence to the 19123 MS., and the omissions in it as compared to the latter, I should like to ask whether these omissions have been traced in other places. Ck)uld these be traced elsewhere it might give us an idea of where the MS. was taken from, or, probably, where the scribe lived who worked on it. Do these omissions exist in other MSS. from which this one deriTes ? Did the scribe simply follow his copy ? If they do exist in other MSS., do they, or do they not, correspond exactly to these noted here ? The answer to these questions might give us some clue to the scribe.

Another point is with reference to the originals of these copies, whether they have been traced. The prologue and epilof^ue vary here. The pro- logue of MS. 24310 differs considerably in the number of verses from that of others. In one you have an epilogue of eighteen verses and a prologue of eight verses. In the prologue of the work presented there are twenty- six verses, and only eight verses in another one belonging to the same general set. The question arises. What has become of the other verses? Hare they been added or drawn from some other work ? If they were not drawn from some other work, that would give a clue to finding out something of the origin of the manuscript.

Another point. Do these MSS. come apparently from the same soaroe? Is thA^ sufficient evidence in the agreement of the manuscripts to show that they came from one source, or were they drawn from various ■ooroesT In other words, were the scribes that copied the four manuscripts, from different parts of the country, and did they work in different circumstances on the same original, or did they copy from various originals ? It seems to me that this is a question which ought to bs very thoroughly investigated, and the differences in the prologue would certainly help in the determina- tion of that point.

Now, the general question arises. Was there a Walter of England? When Prof. Logie began, I was surprised that he spoke of Walter of lExig- land as if there were no question of his existence. To my mind, it is doubtful whether there ever was such a person as Walter of England. Jacobs assumes his existence as confidently as though there were no doubt about it, and accepts the Hervieux colophon, but I don't think that that proves anything. I think the statement is simply made, as so often happens, by a later scribe, from his imagination, or from some idea he had gotten; his statement has no weight whatever, so far as proving the existence of sach a person. Foerster in his edition, has certainly wisely concluded to keep the old name Anonymus Neveletus. This was the name by which the set of fables were known and which Joseph Jacobs would place to the credit

PB0CEEDING8 FOB 1892w

of a Walter of England. I do not consider the point at all establiBhed that we have a Walter of England, in spite of the Gualtems Anglicns fedt hnnc librum sub nomine Esopi. The mere fact that the MS. went under so many names, would, it seems to me, prove, considering the age, that it is very doubtful whether such a man as Walter ever existed.

Kemarks upon this paper were also made by Professors A. Gerber and J. E. Matzke.

11. Erasmus^ Works, especially the Encomium Moriae and the OoUoquia, as Sources of Rabelais^ political, religions and literary Satire. By Dr. Hermann Schonfeld, of Johns Hop- kins University.

Professor J. A. Fontaine :

The expression ''Erasmian spirit" seems to me slightly inadequate. Erasmus was the most brilliant representative of that satirical spirit that took an especial development towards the beginning of the sixteenth cen- tury, and was directed against the Roman church, the monks, theologians, kings, judges, or, in general, against the institutions then existing ; but at the same time we should bear in mind that Erasmus was not the originator of that spirit of satire and opposition. It had already permeated to a greater or lesser degree the Provenyal and French literature of the Mid- dle Ages.

Concerning the influence of Rabelais on French literature, I do not think that too much emphasb can be laid on it. Rabelais has influenced French satire in its twofold tendencies: the philosophical or Pantagruelist ten- dency and the comical or panurgist tendency. There are two modem French authors that might have been mentioned on account of their direct imitation of Rabelais: Nodier imitating his style in Histoire du roi de JBokime and Balzac imitating both stylr and thought in CbnUi drolaUqua . . . pour PesbaUemeni des PantagruiligU$,

Now as to whether Rabelais studied Ebrasmus' works. We have, I think, positive evidence that Rabelais was acquainted with Erasmus' Querela pacU and we may presume also that he read his other works. However, I do not think it has been satisfactorily proved that the Epitiola ad Bernardum Salignaeum was directed to Erasmus, and the controversy raised over Rabelais' famous letter is not, to my mind, yet settled. Of course it is important that it should be, because on that letter is based to a great extent the evidence of Erasmus' influence on Rabelais. I hope Dr. Schonfeld will throw more light on that question.

Now as to the d priori arguments. The thought aiid form are said to be analogous in the writings of both. That may be granted, and we may find

ZXXVl MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.

in Erasmus almost eyeiy thing we find in Rabelais ; for instance we maf argue that the ** Thelemite " maxim Faia ee qtie v<mUra$ was borrowed from one of Erasmos* colloquies, in which the same idea of unlimited freedom is expressed. There is however some danger in exaggerating the thought indebtedness of Rabelais to Erasmus. The life experiences of Rabelais bear so striking a resemblance to that of Erasmus that they must have given rise in both to thoughts verj much alike. Is there not also some difierence in the form of the Encomium moria and that of Rabelais' works ? We have in Erasmus a well conceived and executed plan. Erasmus is witty, sar- castic and at times cynical ; his phrase is remarkable for its conciseness and elegance. Rabelais on the contrary seems to have been indifferent to the general plan and economy of his work and has taken special delight in a style, the richness, flexibility and descriptive adaptability of which have seldom been equaled. A closer resemblance will be found, I think, between the form in Rabelais' writings and that in the colloquies of Erasmus.

As to the publication of Rabelais' works with forged interpolations, we have no strong evidence. In the privileges granted by Kings Francis I and Henry II, Rabelais is represented as having complained that some publishers had tampered with his writings ; he did so most likely in order to lessen his own responsibility and ward off the dangers of persecution. In the case of Erasmus, on the contrary, we have sufficient evidence that some of his works were published with forged interpolations.

Professor Schonfeld :

In consideration of Erasmus' immense influence upon the whole civilized world of his time, and owing to his unique and original mode of writing and thought which revolutionized a world, we may well-nigh speak of 'Erasmian spirit,' as we speak of Aristophanian spirit. The satire and opposition of the Provenpal and French literature of the Middle Ages^ which was directed against real or alleged abuses of the Popes and the clergy, does by no means cover ^he scope of this Erasmiai^ spirit

It was not my aim to exhaiMt Rabelais' influence upon subsequent French literature, as it was not my intention to treat fully of that influence upon German, English, and Spanish literature. Books may, and I hope will, be written on that subject ** Wer vieles bringt, wird jedem etwas bringen," says Goethe, and Rabelais brought so much that I could merely hint in general at the broad rays emanating from his work. (See I\Miea-' tions, Vol. VIII, pp. 4-8.)

That Rabelais knew Erasmus' works entirely and completely, so far as they had been published, is a matter ' of course. This fact presses itself upon every careful reader and has been recognized as early as Rabelais^ work became known. To doubt this vrould be to doubt whether Lesaing, for instance, ever knew and read Volta'ire^ It could therefore only be my purpose to show to what extent the correltLtion took place. As to the fiunoos

PB0CEEDING6 FOR 1892. XZXvii

Babelais letter, it is proTed bj Birch-Hinchfeld (I, 216, Anm. 8), and generallj accepted as final, that it was not addresBed to a petty noble, but to Erasmus. I may with safety refer the reader to this source and to Th. Ziesing: Eragme <m Saliffnaef Paris, 1887.

I acknowledge the trath of Professor Fontaine's statement, that there is some danger of exaggerating the thought-indebtedness of one author to another. In the published form of my paper this point will be found duly regarded. Such striking similarities, not only in content but eren in form, as are noticed at pp. 43-44, 60, 64, 65, 66, 68, etc., of PubUccaioni^ VoL VIII, cannot be accidental, nor can they be explained by the resemblance of the life of the two men, but I have employed this view (cf. pp. 13-15) as a strong argument for their common WdUiTuehauung. As to the form of their works as a whole, I hold, even more strongly than does Professor Fontaine, that they cannot be compared in any way, nor have I attempted to do so.

The President of the Phonetic Section^ Professor A. Mel- ville Bell, gave a reception to the members of the Association, at his residence, 1525 Thirty-fiflh Street, at 8 o'clock p. m.

MOBinNG SESSION (Friday, December 80).

The President called the Association to order at 10 o'clock.

Professsor F. M. Warren, Chairman of the Committee on Place of Meeting, submitted the following report :

The Committee recommends that this Association hold an Extra Session next July, at Chicago, under the auspices of the World's Congress Auxiliary of the World's Columbian Exposition, in accordance with the special invitation extended by the World's Congress Auxiliary ; and that the next regu- lar meeting of this Association be held at Washington, D. C, during the Christmas holidays of 1893, the exact date to be determined by the Executive Council.

This report was adopted.

The Secretary, Professor A. Marshall Elliott, as Chairman of the Committee for the revision of the "List of Collies and of their Modern Language Teachers" (see Proceedings for

XXXVlll MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.

1891, p. xliv), reported progress, and offered the motion that the Committee be continued, with the newly elected Secretary as its Chairman.

The motion was adopted.

Professor A. Gudeman :

This meeting should not pass into history without an ex- pression of our appreciation of the services of our retiring Secretary, Professor A. Marshall Elliott, who has during the entire existence of this Association devoted his energy and editorial skill to its organization and growth. I therefore beg to offer the following resolution :

Resolved, That the Modern Language Association of Amer- ica, in convention assembled, sincerely regretting the retire- ment of its Secretary, Professor A. Marshall Elliott, hereby expresses its deep appreciation of his devoted and invaluable services in behalf of this Association.

Professor James W. Bright :

I wish to second this resolution and to re-echo heartily the sentiment with which it has been presented. Professor Elliott has been a zealou-s and indefatigable Secretary to this Associa- tion, but he h&s also been more than that ; he is its founder, and has done most in promoting it. With prophetic outlook, he knew how to lay the foundation of this structure, and his self-sacrificing devotion to the cause of scholarship and his enthusiastic work and guidance have made possible the building upon that foundation.

Professor A. Gerber :

As an amendment to the resolution offered by Professor Gudeman, I would add that the next volume of the Publicor- tions of this Association be dedicated to Professor Elliott.

The amendment was accepted, and the resolution unani- mously and enthusiastically adopted.

PBOCEEDIKGS FOR 1892. ZXxiz

Professor A. Marshall Elliott :

I cannot tell you how I am touched by the remarks that have been made and by the action just taken. My with- drawal from the office of Secretary is attended with sore r^ret, but it has become imperative with me. This Associa- tion came into existence through difficulties, but its success is, I hope, now assured. All that I have done would have been impossible without the strong support, the hopeful sentiment and the good will of the members of this Association. For all this I owe the warmest thanks.

The reading of papers was then resumed.

12. The Tales of Uncle Remus traced to the Old World. By Professor A. Gerber, of Earlham College, Indiana.

Professor F. M. Warren :

The question as to the foreign sources of Unde Remus came incidentally to my attention some jears ago after reading the Roman de Renard and comparing it with the present tales of Unde Remus, The similarity between Uncle Remus and the Roman de Renard seemed to me to be such as would indicate a very close connection — almost indicating a translation, the Roman de Renard being written 700 years ago and Uncle Remus some fifteen years ago. Of course, in the process of time, these stories must have been altered before reaching this country. Those that came from France were altered at a very recent date, and were translated from the French. At the end of my article on '* Uncle Eemus and the Boman de Renard ** I made an appendix which seemed to throw light on the way those stories got into thb country.

I found in a book published by Colonel Jones of Georgia, which many of you probably have read, given among the stories told by the Coast negroes, the story of the pail of butter which Dr. Gerber has referred to. The version in the story published by Colonel Jones differed somewhat from that in Uncle RemuSj but it was an exact translation — I will not say word for word, but very often the sentences were an exact translation of the French story published by Cosquin in the Conies populaires de Lorraine, The negro story is in the dialect of the Coast negro, and my unfamiliarity with the negro dialect made it hard for me to read it, but I got the gist of it.

In Unde Remus the story simply refers to the rabbit and the fox being at work, and the rabbit stealing off to eat up the butter in the well. In Cos- quin's collection the story begins in this way : They are at work and the

21 MODERN LANGUAGE AfiSOCIATION.

fox hears the Angelas (it is the fox here instead of the rahhit) and pre- tends he is called awaj to be a God-father. He goes awaj and comes back in a little while, and the wolf asks him the name of the child. The fox replies, Commencement. Then in a little while after, he hears another stroke, and he says he is calle4 again to be a God-father. He goes off and returns, and the wolf asks him the name of the child and he replies, Mid- way. He goes away a third time at the ringing of the bell and comes back again and the wolf asks him the name of the child and he says, Ending. This is rendered in the negro dialect of Georgia, and it stmck me as so singular that they should retain almost the very stage setting — not only the plot, but absolutely the surroundings. Of course, there being no Angelus rung in Georgia, it was necessary to invent another means for calling him away. The rabbit is a preacher, he heard a sound and had to go away to baptise a child. When the rabbit comes back and the wolf asks him where he has been, he says he has been to the baptism of a child ; and when the wolf asks him its name, he says it is, First Beginning. When he goes away again and returns and the wolf asks him the name of the child, he says. Half-way ; when he goes a third time and returns and the wolf asks him the same question, the rabbit says the name of the child is. Scrapings the-bottom.

There is almost the identical setting in the two stories. Of course, in the Roman Catholic country the fox hears the Angelus and that is changed in Georgia where the rabbit pretends to hear a sound and has to go to a baptism. That struck me as being singular. It would seem as if some one had taken a French story and had translated it and that it had come into Colonel Jones' book through only one handling — and that the trans- lator's. I do not see how the story could have gone through a man who had any faculty for adaptation and not have been altered more than it is. The two stories almost exactly correspond, except in the matter of the Angelus. It strikes me that this similarity might throw a great deal of light on the subject of the immediate derivation of a great many of Unde Remus tales from the French.

The theory I would form would be this : Those stories came from Hayti or Louisiana ; in Hayti and Louisiana they came from the French. They had been preserved in Hayti and Louisiana until it was necessary to trans- late into the English, and they had been translated there by one person and kept there practically intact. That will show a very recent translation, if that is a fact. This translation does not go back over two generations ; otherwise the story would be much more altered.

Professor 8. Grarner :

I think it would have been well if Professor Gerber, while engaged in getting his material together, had written to Mr. Harris and asked him how many of the stories he did collect from Uncle Remus, what he got from his imagination, how many he got from his mother, and how many

PB0CEEDING6 FOB 1892. xli

he got posBewion of in other wajs. If ProfesBor Gerber will remember, in the preface to the first edition of Unde JRemus, Mr. Harris refers, in a slight waj without going into the discussion of the question, to a similarity exist- ing between some of his stories and those of Europe. It may be possible, since he fbund the success of his first volume so great, that in order to make up other Tolumes, he studied up this subject somewhat and put into the mouth of the old man stories which he did not collect from Uncle Remus.

I think it is more than probable that a good many of these stories haye come to the southern negro from his master and mistress. Those of us who live in the South, and know the extreme familiarity which existed between the old domestic house-servant and the children — in fact all members of the household — will know, of course, that there was hardly any thing in the family kept back from them — the old mammy, especially, as she was called. Of course, being in the nursery, while not reading herself, she became acquainted with a great many of the stories read by the children, and then might take these stories out to the field negroes, or to the quarters. They would take hold of them and work them over in their own way.

I wish to call attention to the version of this butter story, as I remember it from my childhood. I think I learned the story from my mother. It was told in this way : The rabbit and the fox had been on a foraging expedition and stole a pot of butter. Brer Fox and Brer Rabbit had agreed to make a tobacco bed in common, and thb pot of butter was to be their dinner. In order to keep it from spoiling, they put it into the spring. Brer Rabbit, after he had been working a little while, got tired and said he wanted to go to get a drink of water. He told the fox to work on and ran down to the branch to get a drink of water. He went down and came back. I have forgotten now how he brought in the replies to the fox, but the first time it was, just begun ; the second time hb reply was, midway ; and the third time, scraping the bottom.

Now this is a feature of the story that Professor Gerber seems not to have taken hold of. When they came to dinner, the butter was all gone and the fox accused the rabbit of eating it and the rabbit accused the fox. To find out who had eaten it, they agreed to get two boards and lie down on them in the sun and sleep, and then the one who had eaten the butter would show the evidence of it by its coming out of his body or out of his mouth. They get two boards and lie down. The rabbit does not fall asleep but after lying there a while and the board becoming greasy, he gets up off his board and rolls brother fox, who is asleep, over on his board, and in this way convicts him of having eaten the butter.

Professor O, B. Super :

I do not wish to take up time, but I wish to ask one or two questions for my own enlightenment. Does not the fact that the wolf is so prominent in Uncle Remus' stories show importation ? I suppose we cannot assume that the negroes of the Geoigia coast, or of Louisiana, knew anything aboot

Xlii MODEBN LANGUAGE AfiSOOIATION.

wolves bj actaal experience. That the wolf should be prominent in the European tales is quite easily understood ; but why is it that he is 80 prominent in the stories of Uncle Remus? For the same reaaon, why is the lion so prominent in European stories, when we are doubtless obliged to assume that those people, as we know them at present, knew nothing about lions, except what was heard from some other source?

Professor J. B. HeDneman :

I was interested in hearing that this butter story is in Maryland, as well as in southern Georgia. I think that will conflict with Professor Warren's theory, howeTcr ingenious. I remember distinctly heanng it in upper South Carolina, where there is an entirely different set of negroes from those on the coast of Georgia. Some other theory will have to be formed to convince one of southern education, who has heard these stories from the darkies, as to exactly how they have been imported. It has been suggested that they came from the whites. It is a little singular that we who were brought up in the South never heard them from white persons — at least I never did. It was only from our colored nurses — our old mammies — that we ever heard them. As to Mr. Harris inventing anything in his first stories,*! can testify to hearing from the colored people in upper South Carolina every story he told there. What he drew from his imagination, was practically niL I can testify only as to that particular part of the country, but I am perfectly sure that they are not limited to any one section. Importation from Hayti and Louisiana would, I think, be impossible to prove.

We can notice coincidences; but that is about all we can do. How these stories ever reached these various sections of the country from Maryland to Texas, we cannot tell. Any one acquainted with the southern negro, knows the diflerences between them. There is a difference between the negroes of upper South Carolina and those of the Charleston district; between those of the middle section of Georgia — from which Mr. Harris comes — ^and the negro of the southern coast, about Savannah. Yet these stories are among them all. They were told us by our negro nurses. We never received an intimation of them (I speak again simply from my own experience) from a white person ; and when Mr. Harris brought them out, every one of us was delighted — for we had forgotten these stories in the meanwhile — at hearing them once more and at actually seeing them reduced to print before our eyes.

I do not wish to op{K)se these theories as to emigration. I believe, in some instances at least, that must necessarily have been the case; but exactly how — through what media — is the difficult matter to prove. So far as 1 can see, no theory that has been suggested is at all adequate. Of course, I have not seen -all the data of Professor Gerber's article, and I wish to thank him for his investigation of the matter and to assure him of the interest with which we in the South will peruse it.

PB00EEDING8 FOB 1892. xliii

Professor 8. Grarner :

I woald like to saj just another word. I had no idea of accusing Mr. Harris of drawing on his ima^nation, or of dishonesty. We, in the South, are not in the habit of aocuung gentlemen of being dishonest. Qentlemen in the South are not dishonest. When this volume of Mr. Harris* came oat, we all hailed it with delight ; we had heard many of these stories ; I had heard a great many from my mother ; I suppose she heard them from her servants ; I don't remember hearing many from the negroes. Books were not so plentiful then as they are now. These stories had to serve their purpose in entertaining the children.

What I meant to say was, that after Mr. Harris had published his first book, which contained the most prominent of these stories, which every one recognized as having heard, he kept continually working the mine ; and the question that occurred to me was, whether he had not, in order to get enough material to make up his books, put into the mouth of the old man stories which he had not heard — stories which, no doubt, did exist in other parts of the South ? He would not have had time to investigate personally for himself all these stories by going through the South, and, having found many stories in the story books, did he not perhaps take them and work them over into the negro dialect, as he could have done without laying himself open to the charge of dishonesty ?

Professor Gerber :

I wrote to Mr. Harris for information, but received no reply. I have been informed that there are wolves in Georgia even at the present time. Of course, the lion points to Africa. I could only give a small part of the evidence I have collected.

So far as Professor Warren's remarks are concerned, I should {ike to say that it is not quite true that these stories came necessarily from the French. The butter story is told exactly in the same way in Bussia, showing a tendency of people to cling to a story even when it comes from another country and from one language into another.

13. Two Pioneers in the Historical Study of English, — Thomas Jefferson and Louis F. Klipstein : A Contribution to the History of the Study of English in America. By Professor J. B. Henneman, of Hampden-Sidney College, Virginia.

The historical study of English — as nearly every point in the educa- tional history of Virginia — is closely associated with the name of Thomas

xliv MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.

Jefferson.' As early as 1779 there is found an expression of Jefferson's interest in connection with the College of William and Mary, of which he was then a Visitor, when he proposed the addition of two new ProfesaorshipSy one of which should undertake the study of the ancient languages, including both the Oriental and the Northern tongues (Moeso-Gothic, Anglo-Saxon, and Old Icelandic), and the other be devoted to that of the Modem Lan- guages. But while the bill with these features could not pass and only the latter chair was established, Jefferson by no means abandoned his ideas but soon afterwards gave expression to the following opinion: "To the Professorships usually established in the universities of Europe it would seem proper to add one for the ancient languages and literature of the North, on account of their connection with our own language, laws, cus- toms, and history " {Notes on Vtrginioj 8d ed., 1801, p. 224) — this being the earliest advocacy in America of the idea of Germanic institutional and linguistic studies.

Jefferson expresses himself with even £p*eater freedom in the letter to Herbert Croft, LL. B., of London, dated from Monticello, October 80th, 1798. It forms the introductory part of the work, An Essay towards faeUitaimg instruction in the Anglo-Saxon and modem dialects of the English Language, printed in 1851 by order of the Board for the University of Virginia, and mentioned on page 75 of Winker's Orundriss under an imperfect title and vrith a misleadiug remark. This letter to Croft was written in acknowledge- ment of the receipt of the latter's Letter from Germany to the Princess Royal of England: on the English and German Languages (Hamburg, 1797), the dedication of which evidences the influence of the English residence of the House of Hanover upon the closer relationship of the English and German peoples and the beginniugs of a movement of intellectual inter- course which has so deeply affected modern English and American scholar- ship and thought.

Croft, as he himself informs us, had republished Dr. Johnson's Dictionary with many corrections and additions, and after editing King AIfred*s Will, made a pilgrimage to Germany, following up his philological investigations, with a view to publishing an "English and American Dictionary.'' To us — and probably to Jefferson — the most interesting part of the letter are the remarks on the English language as influenced by America. "The future history of the other three quarters of the world will, probably, be much affected by America's speaking the language of England. Its natives write the language particularly well, considering they have no dictionary yet, and how insufficient Johnson's is I Washington's speeches seldom

' Jefferson's interest in the Historical Study of English has been com- mented on by H. E. Shepherd, American Journal of Philology, III, 211 f. ; Edward A. Allen: "Thomas Jefferson and the Study of Englbh," Ths Academy (Syracuse, N. Y.) for February, 1888; H. B. Adams: Thomas Jefferson and the University of Virginia, U. S. Bureau of Education, 1888.

PB0CEEDIK08 FOB 1892. xlv

exhibited more than a wotd or two, liable to the least objection; and, from the style of his publications, as moch or more aocnracj maj be expected from his soooessor, Adams. [A note at the end of the pamphlet adds, ' Mr. Jefferson shoald hare been mentioned.'] Perhaps we are, jost now, not very far distant from the precise moment, for making some grand attempt with regard to fixing the stofuiard of our language (no language can be fixed) in America. Such an attempt would, I think, succeed in America, for the same reasons that would make it fail in England, whither, however, it would communicate its good effects. Desenredlj immortal would be that patriot, on either side of the Atlantick, who should succeed in such an attempt'' (p. 2, note 1).

It is in acknowledgement of this publication of Croft's that Jefferson is led to disclose how he came to turn his attention to Anglo-Saxon and to give his own views on the methods of its study. As a student of the law, he was obliged to recur to that source for explanation of a multitude of law terms, and, he tells us, he was especially influenced by a Preface to Fortescue on Monarchies, vrritten by Fortescue-Aland, and afterwards pre- mised to the latter^s volume of Reports. In this Preface to Fortescue, which was published in 1714, the editor devotes fully half his space (pp. xli-lxxxii) to a discussion of the nature of Anglo-Saxon, gives a number of glosses, evi- dences individual words illustrating its compounds and forcible terms and expressions in place of Latin and Qreek ones, and argues that an acquaint- ance therewith Ib of especial value to lawyers. Finally, he coats the pill with these sugared words : " The DifiBculty of attaining the Language is nothing. It is in Practice so useful, and in Theory so delightful, that I am persuaded no Young Grentleman, who has Time and Leisure, will ever repent the Labour in attaining to some Degree of Knowledge in it" (p. Ixxxi). Jefferson's citation of " the names of Lambard, Parker, Spel- man, Wheeloc, Wilkins, Gibson, Hickes, Thwaites, Somner, Benson, Mare- Bchal, Flstob," on page 8 of his JSssay, where all save Parker and Wilkins are taken from the ** Catalogue of the most considerable Authors," appended to Fortescue- Aland's Preface and giving upwards of thirty standard works of the time, shows that this incitation had its due effect on at least one Young Gentleman. That Jefferson made also other than a mere academic use of his knowledge is gathered from a judgment expressed by R. G. H. Kean, Esq. in the Virginia Law Joumat for December, 1877 : The " por- tion of Jefferson's work as a legislator is remarkable for his citations from the original Anglo-Saxon laws."

Jefferson mentions, besides, in his letter to Croft, his use of Elstob's Grammar — a work written by a woman and based upon Hickes, and the first Anglo-Saxon Grammar vrritten in English, and intended for others of her sex who knew not Latin — and he adds that the ideas which he noted at the time on its blank leaves, he sends as a sequel to his letter for examination. Now, there seems every probability that Jefferson's Essay is nothing but these notes later expanded. The contents of the Eaaay are :

xlvi MODERN liAKGUAOE AaSOdATION.

fint, the Letter to Croft, written in 1797 (pp. 8-5) ; then, the formal Bmojf, written in 1818 (pp. 7-20) ; the Postscript to this letter, written in 1825 (pp. 20-24) ; Observations on Anglo-Saxon Grammar (pp. 25-^33) ; and a Specimen (pp. 35-43) — the last two having no date anigned. Indeed, as there is much repetition to be observed, probably enough the " Obserra- tions'' were taken more directly from these notes in EUtob^s Grammar, left comparatively unchanged, while the formal Eaaay (pp. 7-20), though preceding in the printed form, was clearly written later and was based upon these "Observations,'' or upon like material. For instance, in the " Observations," there are only two headings — Pronunciation and Declen- sion of Nouns — instead of the later and better developed divisiou into four ; again, the number of Hickes' declensions has been reduced in the "Observations" from six to four, but in the formal essay three simple canons suffice to embrace all forms.

This last illustration indicates sufficiently well the character of Jefferson's E89ay and the nature of his argument. His chief error lies in too great simplification for the sake of unity. Of course, he was mistaken in many of his views according to latter-day standards ; but he b to be judged rather from the spirit of his utterance than from its details. He speaks, himself in all modesty of his slight opportunity for the pursuits in a life busied with varied cares. But he sees clearly and insists upon the great truth underlying modem scientific study, that Old English is nothing but the English current at that time ; and this unity and the consequent development he refuses to let be obscured. True, this very persistency led him again into error, as when, because Modern Ensrlish was but slightly inflected, he was inclined to treat every period of English in the same spirit and to consider the minute divisions into declensions and in accordance with all inflections, useleoi lumber. Yet how temperate he was, even in this discussion between the methods of the ancients and the moderns — the new phase in the Battle of the Books — may be easily discerned from a comparison of his views with the utter pretentiousness of Henshall's Ejiglish and Saxon Languages, issued in the same year with JeflTerson's letter to Crofl. Also, Jefferson did not clearly enough distingubh the early periods of the language^ and was prone to bundle Old and Middle English forms indiscriminately together. All these are serious errors in details ; but Jefferson's practical vision, common sense, and historic instinct, comprehended thoroughly the Teutonic origin and the essential unity of all periods of the English tongue, and so far insisted on the necessity of a knowledge of the earlier forms — language, literature, laws, customs — in order rightly to interpret and to appreciate those of to-day, that in fathering his State University he intro- duced into its curriculum the firat course of Anglo-Saxon found in an Ameri- can institution of learning.

The University of Virginia, chartered in 1819, was thrown open to stn- dents in 1825; the chair of Modern Languages included French, Spanbh, Italian, German, and Anglo-Saxon ; and from that day to thb Jefferson's

PROCEEDINGS FOR 1892. xlvii

wish has heen carried out oontinQOOBly, and a coarse in Anglo-Saxon has been constantly given, however meagre and inadequate at times, through the exigency of circumstances, it may have become. Of this chair there have been thus far but three occupants. The first (imported, as most of Jefferson's original faculty were, from Europe) was Qeorge Blaetterman, LL. D., a German by birth, resident in London, who held the position from 1825 to 1840. One who was both his pupil and his colleague has left this tribute : " He gave proof of extensive acquirements and of a mind of uncom- mon natural vigor and penetration. In connection more especially with the lessons in German and Anglo^xon he gave his students much that was interesting and valuable in comparative philology also, a subject in which he found peculiar pleasure" (Duyckincfe*s Oyd.f II, p. 730, ed. of 1856). Together with his colleague in the chair of ancient languages. Professor George Long, he furnished contributions to a '^ Comparative Grammar." His successor was Charles Eraitsir, M. D., who published, among other works, a Oloasology: being a treatUe on the nature of langtuige and on ike language of nature (N. Y., 1852). In 1844 was chosen M. Scheie De Vere, Ph. D., J. U. D., the present honored incumbent and senior member of the Faculty, well-known as the author of OuUmes of Comparative Philology (1853) ; Orammar of the Spanish Language (1857) ; Orammar of the French Language (1867) ; Studies in English (1867) ; Americanisms (1872), etc. Although a course of English Literature had been instituted in 1857, in connection with the chair of History, it was not until 1882 that a separate chair for English Language and Literature was established; and in the present session (1892-3) an additional chair has been added, separating this study permanently into its two component parts, philology and literature, thus carrying out logically, to its full development, the principles advocated so early by the illustrious founder.

Indeed, the whole subject of the study of English in Virgixiia, bringing in the perfectly independent work done at other institutions (Randolph- Maoon, Richmond, Washington and Lee, etc.), and all at a time when little or no attention was given to this study in more accredited institu- tions of other States, b so marked in its individuality in the history of education in our country, that its consideration constitutes an important chapter in the history of American intellectual development.

Entirely independent of Jefferson's efforts were the labors of Louis F. Elipstein. He is mentioned in Winker's OrundrisSf but with even greater inaccuracy than in Jefferson's case. Wiilker asserts with seeming satisfac- tion that the first efforts in the study of Anglo-Saxon in America were on the part of a German (" und zwar war es ein Deutscher, welcher zuerst fur Angelsachsisch wirkte ") ; but Klipstein was a Virginian by birth, from Win- chester, became a student at Hampden-Sidney College, received the degree of A. B. in 1832, and immediately after took the prescribed three yean' course in the neighboring Union Theological Seminary. He entered upon the duties of a Presbyterian minister of the gospel in 1 835, being licensed by the Win-

zlviii MODERN LANaUAGE AaBOCIATTON.

Chester PretbTtery, bat seceded shortlj to the New School diTuioo in Um Presbyterian Church, and must soon hmve given up preaching altogether, as his license was revoked in 1840. About this time he went to Germangr io order to prosecute his studies, and on the title-page of his pnblished works he always signs himself "AA. LL. M., and Ph. D., of the University of Giessen." Besides, his most ambitious work, the AnaleeiOy is dedicated to '^ Augustus Von Klipstein, Ph. D., Professor of Mineralogy and the Art of Mining in the University of Giessen,'' and it was probably these ciroim- stances, together with his German name, that misled Wulker. Upon his return to America, he went southwards to Charleston, S. C, for the sake of his health, and engaged as tutor in a family in the neighboring country, at St. James, Santee. From a notice in the Southern Literary Messenger for April, 1844, he began editing about thb time a monthly periodical of 24 pages, devoted to the French, German, Spanish, and Italian languages^ published in Charleston, and called The PbiygloU, which was contemporary with another equally as short-lived Charleston journal, a semi-monthly rival, The IrUerpretery directed to the same ends. It was the material thus collected that formed the basis of his Study of Modem Languagee, Two years later (1846) he announced through the Putnam publishing house in New York a series of books on Anglo-Saxon, choosing, in two instances at least, April Ist, as an anniversary upon which to write a Preface. Within the next two or three years four of these works appeared: Tha Halgan GodtpeL on Engliae; A Orammar of the Anglo-Saxon Language/ Analeela AnglO'Saxoniea — Selections in Proee and Verse, from (he Angh-Saxon Liiero" turtj in two volumes; and Natale Saneti Oregorii Papae, — ^Ifric's J7omii|y on the Birthday of Saint Gregory^ with miscellaneous extracts. All these books, even though one or two passed beyond the first edition, proved heavy financial losses, and, it seems, much of the property of his wife — for he had meanwhile married a daughter of the house where he had been installed as tutor — was lost in payment.^ This was probably the chief reason why other works which he announced never saw the light of day; as, A Glossary to the Analecta Anglo-Saxoniea ; The Anglo-Saxon Para- phrase of the Book of Psalms ; Anglo-Saxon Metrical Legends ; The An^o-Saxon Poem of Beowulf; The Rites, Ceremonies^ and Polity of the Anglican Church ; A Philosophical Grammar of the Anglo-Saxon Language^ etc

His Grammar, which appeared in 1848, was dedicated to Orville Horwits, Esq., of Baltimore, in appreciation of "a friendship which a close intimacy of years has tended only to strengthen " ; and the latter reciprocated this interest by writing an Introduction on the Study of the Anglo-Saxon Lan- guage— filling 22 pages. In criticising Klipstein's labors, a noteworthy circumstance is that despite his German degree, he fashions himself on the English models of the day. It is the reproduction of the work of English scholars in a special form for American students that characterizes his work.

^ A fact gathered from material kindly furnished by Dr. T. P. HarrisoB*

PB0CEEDIN08 FOB 1892. xliz

It is Thorpe's Qotpek without change, a Qrammar akin to Thorpe's transla- tion of Rask, two books of '' Selections " suggested by Thorpe's similar Yolume, that he gives to American readers. But with all their sad defects and errors and uncritical editing, his interest in the subject, and the spirit and purpose of his work, demand a certain reo()gnition ; and the actual performance ranks fairly well in point of originality, if one considers the advance in the scholarship of to-day, with similar performances by American students, reproducing in special American editions work already performed by European scholars, with more or less changes both for better and for worse.

Elipstein kb said to have been very unfortunate in his later life, which he ended under a cloud. He died in 1879.

Remarks upon this paper were made by Professors J. M. Garnett, J. W. Bright, and E. H. MagUl.

The Committee appointed to audit the Treasurer's statement, then presented the following report :

We have examined the itemized statement of receipts and compared the dues received from members and find that the list of members who have paid, together with those stated to be in arrears, agrees in the aggregate with the membership list furniBhed by the Secretary.

We have examined the itemized expenditures and found each covered by a receipt or cashed check made payable to the Secretary for publica- tion purposes.

We have found in the bank book of James W. Bright, Treasurer, a credit on December 24, 1892, for the amount indicated in the Treasurer's report as the balance on hand.

In conclusion we beg to congratulate the Association on the business

methods practised by its Treasurer.

J. H. Gobs,

A. N. Bbown. The Secretary of the Phonetic Section reported as follows :

PHONETIC SECTION.

Secretart's Report for 1892.

Received,

Membership fees from J. L. Armbtronq, J. W. Bright, A. F. Chabtberlain, M. J. Drennan, a. M. £lliott, £. A. Fat, J. Geddes Jr., C. H. Qrakdobkt, J. M. Hart, G. Hemfl, J. £. Matzke, S. Porter, £. S. Sheldok, R Spanhoofd,

R. L. Weeks , $16.00

4

1 MODERN ULKOUAGB JLaBOGIATIOH.

Expended,

Printing foarth circular $ 7.50

Stamps. « 6.00

Envelopes 1-50

$15.00

Some of the results of our first circular, issued in August^ 1890, iiaps appeared, under the titles " Uncle Remus in Phonetic Spelling " and '* English Sentences in American Mouths,'' in Dialed NoteSj Part IV. The meai»ureDients of German vowels and consonants, suggested in the same circular, have been completed, and the drawings, with explanatofj text, have been published by Ginn & Co. in a little book entitled Germtm and Engliah Sounds, For French sounds the measurements are aa jet unfinished. «

The information obtained through our second and third circolars has been presented as fulljr as possible in Modem Language ^otu for January and December, 1891.

A fourth set of questions was issued in November, 1892. Over 800 copies were distributed ; great care was taken to have the sheets reach all parts of the country. Up to date only about 170 replies have come in ; but new ones are arriving nearly every day, and it is to be hoped that the number will soon reach 200 or 250. So far as I have been able to examine them, the answers have proved to be very interesting. The results will probably be published next spring.

I have in readiness materials for a fifth circular, which I should like to send out as soon as the fourth is out of the way. The questions are intended mainly to determine the extent to which certain artificial influences have afiected our pronunciation.

C. H. Grakdoent,

Secretary.

14. Lessing's Religious Development with Special Refer- ence to his Nathan the Wise. By Professor Sylvester Primer, of the University of Texas.

This pai>er was discussed by Professors H. C. 6. Brandt^ S. Garner and H. E. Greene.

The President then appointed the following committee to arrange for the Extra Session of the Association to be held at Chicago : Professoi-s J. W. Bright, J. M. Garnett, H. C. G. von Jagemann.

PB0CEEDING8 FOB 1892. 11

AFTERNOON SESSION. The Assodation was called to order at 3 o'clock.

Professor A. Marshall Elliott :

I am pleased to annoance the presence of ex-President Magilly now Professor of French in Swarthmore College, who has consented to offer a few remarks directed to the work of the Pedagogical Section of this Association.

Professor E. H. Magill :

I have listened with deep iDterest to the exercises of this Association, feeling that a f^reat work is going on here — a work of which I was apprised, somewhat, before, bat of which I had no adequate conception until these last two days. I see that a new edacation — a new learning, as it is some- times called — has come in to stay.

I am not one to r^^t anj forward movements of this kind ; and am glad to see that the yoanger members of this Association — ^younger as compared with myself— are coming forward and parsaing these lines of independent thought and investigation in this work of language teaching. If scientific men get very enthusiastic over the tracks of birds in sandstone, I cannot see why the tracks of the human mind are not equally interesting; and I can readily pardon these young men for overlooking, to a certain extent, some things which I consider important, in their zeal and enthusiasm in this comparatively new work. I can readily see how they prefer to ride on their bicycles of modem investigation around the world rather than follow in the old stage coach, or even, perhaps, railroad lines of the regular courses. I can understand their seal and enthusiasm and pardon them for crowding out anything which I consider important.

But I was to say a word on the subject of pedagogics. There is a preju- dice in the minds of many against the word itself — and a natural one — one which I share with you. There is a prejudice against the word and against the whole business of pedagogics. Why ? Because there is too much of a tendency to make teachers imitators, and train for teaching by so-called normal methods. But I think that your pedagogic section has a valuable labor to perform, and that it can perform it by making a slight modifica- tion in your program.

I suppose if five per cent— one teacher has said to me that it would be but one per cent, possibly two per cent, but I will be liberal — I suppose if five per cent of the students under the professors who are here assembled in this Association during these three days are likely to pursue courses of study which would make the investigations which you are pursuing with

Hi MODEBN. LAKGUAGE AfiSOCIATION.

great interest and value to science Valuable to them directly, it is as much as you can hope for. Now what are jou going to do with the other 95 per cent ? that is the point.

I came here for the purpose of learning firom you, how joa do jour work ; how it is done in the most expeditious way. In these times, when our courses are crowded and taken up with various studies, we must do oor work in the shortest possible space of time. How are we going to bring a knowledge, say of French and German — take those two principal members of the family of modem languages, outside of our own — how shall we bring, I say, to English speaking students of America, a fluent, easy reading knowl- edge of French and German in the shortest space of time ? If there ii a method by which young men who began the study of French in September of this year, can have already read two, three or four yolumes of 100 pages each and understood it — and there is — if there is a method by which that can be done, then I would like, at a proper time, to hear such method explained. How shall we do it ? Let me suggest to the executive com- mittee that something be put into the program for another year — some- thing like what we call the Kound Table — a general exchange of experience, &c,j that would be of great value to all the teachers here assembled. I should be very glad to know how other men do this work. I do not believe in any stereotyped way of teaching. I believe that the teacher must be enthusiastic and teach from his heart — not from the methods of any other man or woman — but it helps us all to know what others* methods are ; and if we can have some comparison of views, I think it will be a great gain.

I was glad to see the announcement tOKlay that there is a prospect, another year, of the adoption of a proposed uniform course of study of the modern languages in the colleges and in preparatory schools. That is a step in the right direction. I hope that in the future something will be done towards making this Association valuable to us all as a means of communi- cating to each otber our experience, without any intention to impose our views upon others, but simply to state what we do, and what results we produce, and when we get home and think it over, if we learn anything valuable we can put it in practice in our own way.

15. The Preparation of Modern Language Teachers for American Institutions.^ By Professor E. H. Babbitt, of Columbia College, N. Y.

The best teacher of modem languages for some purposes requires no conscious preparation at all. For all children below the age at which they enter our secondary schools, the objective point is the ability to speak the

> This paper was read at the last annual meeting of the Association (see lYoceedings for 1891, p. xliv).

PB0CEEDIKG6 FOR 1892. liii

langaage — an art merely, which has nothing to do with any scientific knowl- edge, and which is best acquired from a French or German name-maid, or some such person, to whom the language is an inheritance, and its fluent use a necessity of nature.

The lowest grade in our educational system where we find work in modem languages for which professional teachers need professional preparation, is in the secondary schools. Here we meet at once the commonest problem of all which we have to consider in our work. Given a class of boys or young men, who hare perhaps two years on an average to study a modem language, how shall we shape our instraction so that they may get the best returns from the work they can do in that limited time? It seems to be generally agreed that a practical reading knowledge of the language is the main end for such students, both because it is the most valuable acquisition that can be made in the time to spare, and because, in ordinary circum- stances, this line of work forms the only feasible basiB for uniform and successful class-room instraction. At the same time this plan allows those students who wish to pursue the study of the language further, in other lines, to use all the work they have already done, and also allows full scope for the really very valuable mental discipline to which I called attention in my paper last year.^

In many cases this practical elementary work is not begun till after the students are in college. Here we meet students who have already had a good deal of linguistic training in their study of the classics, and thus differ from the boys in the secondary and scientific schools, to whom a foreign language is a new thing. For instance, with a class of college students who have done the usual amount of thinking over their conditional sentences in Latin and Greek, the subject of conditional sentences in German can be disposed of in a lesson or two; but a class of boys who meet for the first time this matter of general grammar must spend weeks in getting it cleared up, whatever the language may be that furnishes the material for study. Much more can therefore be expected in the way of quantity and quality of work from college students than from the others referred to ; it is quite possible to give a class of them a sufficient knowledge of French in one year, or of Grennan in two years, to enable them to use text-books in those languages.

The majority of our college students never go beyond this point in the subject. Those who do pursue it either as a college or a university study — as a factor in a general liberal education, or with the intention of teach- ing the subject. For the larger class who pursue it as a culture-study, several lines of work are possible. Practice in expression in a foreign language, especially French, gives excellent discipline for the linguistic sense. Philology proper belongs rather to the university side of the sub- ject, but an enthusiastic teacher oftens draws college students into it with

^PiMieatians, VoL VI, No. I.

liv MODERXr LANGUAGE A8800IATION.

good resalte. Bat the greatest pert bj fiur of the instmctioii for thle cImi of Btadents comeB ander the head of that mach-abnaed word, literature.

There is do line of studj that will make a oollege eophomore into a oompetent literary critic. Nothing will do that but a certain nomber of jears spent in contact with the life and thought of the world, and a proper use and development of a sound judgment which must be present to begin with. And yet there is no more responsiye soil on which to sow the seeds of culture than the mind of a student at this age, and few better opportoni- ties for doing so than come from just such courses as are given in the third and fourth year work in modern languages at our colleges— courses based on the study of the best works written in those languages, with all the side- lights from philology, literary criticism, philosophy and history, whidi the teacher can bring to bear from all the resources of his own study and his own intellectual life.

As to university instruction, it is only necessary to say that it most be of the most thorough and special kind. The future teacher must hare the discipline of feeling bottom somewhere in the sea of learning. Now as the bottom comes nearer the surface in the region of philology than elsewhere in our department, students naturally turn their attention largely in that direction. This is legitimate, if only one Ib sure of a sufficient intellectual stature to be able to stand on that bottom and have a respectable mental horizon.

Viewed from the teacher's standpoint, university work in the modem languages in this country forms but an almost infinitesimal part of the whole body of work in the field. In very many of our colleges the instruc- tion does not go beyond elementary work. And even in those few institu- tions where real university work b done, the amount of work in this particular field is less than in others, on account of the special reasons for studying in this line abroad. The records of the work done in modem languages at our universities will show that very little of it is beyond the grade of college work, and that there is seldom a genuine demand for any advanced course which cannot perfectly well be given by any teacher who is properly prepared for this college work.

A proper preparation for college teaching means, however, much more than is generally demanded by those who employ teachers. I wish to call your attention to an apparently trivial matter which has unexpectedly deep significance on this point.

It is a commonplace to all members of this Association, that knowing how to speak a language and knowing how to read it are two very diflferent things. It sounds like a sweeping statement to say that no one who has not taught the subject knows how great this difference really is, but I will even venture to say that many who are teachers of modem languages fail to see the importance of the distinction. Speaking a language is as purely an art as is playing a musical instrument. The art of speaking a language not one's own is useful to many people who wish to communicate with

PB00EEDING8 FOB 1892. Iv

those who speak it ; it is Airther regarded as a prettj aooomplishment for jouDg ladies and others who maj possibly make little or do practical use of it. This art has been taught for oentories by a large and more or less respectable body of persons, and their instruction has its traditions and methods, which are embodied in text-books of the Ollendorf kind.

Now when some years ago there arose a general demand for instruction in modem languages in our colleges, the college authorities went to the young ladies' boarding-schools, or whereyer these foreign language teachers were to be found, and set the best they could get of them to doing the work in the colleges. They brought their traditions with them, and continued to emphasize the education of the ear, and to quarrel, with the intolerance of all empiricists, oyer minor matters of accent and pronunciation. Their methods were accepted generally without question, and held the field for a long time, as they do still among the laity.

Occasionally, howeyer, for lack of a Frenchman or German to teach his language, an American teacher who had perhaps been abroad, or had more than the usual amount of instruction in a modem language, was set to teach- ing it. Such teachers, being leas sure of their knowledge of the foreign lan- guage than of English, did their work on a translation basis and taught their pupils to read, rather than speak, the language; and the reading knowledge of students taught in this way was often better than that of those who had spent much more time under the old plan. Whateyer read- iness in speaking the latter might have acquired did not appear under any examination test, nor as meeting any need in the way of foundation for further studies. Now, the fact that the pupils of any fair teacher who had a smattering of a foreign language could meet the tests prepared by those who held the position of the only authorities on the subject, and the fact that these latter treated their work from the same point of yiew that musi- cians and writing-masters treat theirs, tended to throw the whole line of work into disrepute, and to establish the impression, which, as I said above, is still in full force among the laity (to which we may safely reckon most college trustees and many college presidents), that any kind of a ** Dutchman ** or ''dago,'* or broken-down minister, is competent to give what has seemed to be the recognized quality of instruction in the subject. This impression still prevails to a lamentable extent in many quarters, but the day of better things is coming, and the next generation of modern language teachers will do better work than the present one.

The only effective teacher in any field is the one who has thoroughly taken his professional bearings — who has adopted the work from the honest conviction that he is fitted by nature to do it, and intends to make it his life-work. A teacher who is an enthusiast in his subject is better than one who is not, but no amount of enthusiasm for a subject can blind a trae teacher to the fundamental fact of his calling — that the subject is taught for its efiect on the minds of his pupils, not that their minds exist as a medium for propagating knowledge of the subject. The field of modem languages

Ivi MODEBN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION.

belongs emphatically to the pedagogae rather than to the sdeiitific eothn- siast. Nine-tenths of the work done must always be of an elemeDtary natnra. Such work inyolyes a great deal of drudgery, from which in itaelf there is no legitimate escape. The standard of perfection in the practical knowledge of a modem language is so evident and so near at hand, that any man of scholarly tendencies is sure to be so far in advance of hia pupila that he is liable to chafe under the unavoidable repetitions and task-work, anle« hii pedagogical is greater than his scientific interest — unless his aabject-matter is merely a means to an end, and his greatest profenional satis&ction comes from turning out each year's class a little better trained than the last.

But a language teacher has some relief from drudgery whidi a teacher of mathematics, for instance, has not. The most elementary language stody has a connection with human thought and interest, which no study of noere things can have ; and thus even here, though of course in a much greater degree as we approach literature rather than mere language-drill, the peraoo- ality of the teacher comes into play as a culturing factor. A teacher ii capable of inspiring and uplifting a class just about in proportion to the aiie of his personality as a man of culture. There is no field in the profeaaion where a man of thoroughly catholic mind and a sure sense of the meaning of the world's thought can do more to bring a class up from their intellectual level towards his own ; and none where a mere pedant, who has grammatical or philological hobbies to ride, can waste more golden opportunitiee. And yet few subjects make so great demands upon the teacher in the way of wide and definite knowledge. The standard of correct use for a language is of course an empirical matter, but just for that reason those who uphold the standard are the more intolerant of variations from it The amount of practical ability in handling a language required from a teacher is much greater in the case of living than of dead languages. No teacher of a modem language can be thoroughly efficient unless his command of it as a practical medium of thought is sufficient to enable him to think in it and feel its idiom pretty thoroughly his own.

And on the other hand — aside from the fact that no person can manage a class of American boys unless he can think in English as readily as they can — no one can make translation work of any value to his pupils on its most valuable side, unless his English is really good English — better than theirs is likely to be, as boys on the average come to us now.

And last but not least, no teacher can be thoroughly inspiring and useful to his pupils whose knowledge of his subject is not so thorough and extensive as to. give them a genuine respect for his attainments as a scholar. It is not so very important whether his special work has been done in the exact lines of his teaching, provided his knowledge in those lines is sufficient to meet completely all qucKtions that may arise. He ought, however, to know the language he is teaching, not only practically, but also historically, to be familiar with the nearest related languages, and, on the literary side, to have a good notion of the chapter in human life and thought which pro*

PEOGEEDINQS FOB 1892. Ivii

duoed the works he is to study. It is hardlj neoessaiy to say that no liye teaeher will let a year pass without making some additions to this fond of exact knowledge which he poesesees and can ose in his work.

I do not helieve that a teacher can he notably deficient in any of the five directions that I hare indicated, withoat impairing serionsly his professional osefolness — so serionsly as to shot him oat from the very foremost rank in the profession. The discussion of the first of these five heads belongs, how- ever, rather to a paper on the preparation of teachers in general than here. This is also true of the second, except that breadth of culture in the person- ality of the teacher counts for more here than in fields which have to do more with things, and less with human relations, and that a special topic arises out of the question of foreign-bom teachers.

To the unprofessional mind, it seems to be almost a matter of course that the person who knows a language best is one to whom it is the mother- tongue, and therefore that such persons should naturally teach it. If, however, we look to those countries where the science of education has been longest and most carefully studied, we find the settled policy of employing natives who have been abroad to study modem foreign languages, to teach those languages in the schools. And in spite of the stubborn resistance of the lay mind, which I have referred to already, this policy is rapidly gaining ground in the higher institutions in this country. I cannot go exhaustively into the reasons for this course, but some of the considerations are as follows : A person who comes to a country at an adult age is a foreigner, and generally remains a foreigner in his ways of thinking and feeling and living. I said before that the personality of the teacher is the most im- portant factor in his professional activity ; if his personality is such that it fidls to find the best points of touch with the personalities of his students, then he fails to get that sympathetic commonity of thought on which so much depends. And if, as kb so often the case with foreign-bom teachers, he never acquires that conmiand of English which makes him superior to them in their own medium of thought, he remains to that extent under a handicap which impairs his usefulness. These considerations do not apply, be it observed, to men who come to this country young enough to become thoroughly Americanized in character and language, before they enter upon their work. Some of our very best teachers belong to this class of men.

Another point, perhaps less well understood, but of more general applica- tion, may be iUustrated by a case which came under my own observation. A careful and conscientious teacher, a German by birth and education, who had learned French at school as a foreign language, taught it, as was admitted by all, much better than German, his mother-tongue, which he undoubtedly spoke, and used in every way, much better than French. It is self-evident that a man who has been driven in a close carriage through the streets of a city, cannot direct another regarding them, so well as one who has made his way on foot, with map in hand. The fact that a person who has acquired any knowledge without being obliged to give any thought

Iviii MODERN LANGUAGE AflBOCIATIOK.

to the proceH, cannot impart that knowledge so well as one who has followed the stepe, is always a great drawback to the efiectiye teaching of a Imognage by those to whom it is the mother-tongue. This drawback can be OTeroome only by long practice in actual teaching; and daring the prooesa the pnpils most inevitably suffer. It is these difficulties of adjustment which haye brought about, through the extensiye employment of foreigners to teach their languages in our schools, the unsatisfactory conditions as to the pace of work to which I referred last year, and it is largely the increase in the employment of those who are Americans by education at least, which is leading to an improvement in this respect. The matter is after all a question of individuals, and a good deal might be said on the text that a man who is good for anything is likely to find employment at home, and so the men we are likely to get to teach in our schools are of a better grade if they are of home production.

It seemf) on the whole then to be a reasonable demand that our modem langtiage teachers shall have received their general education in our country, or at least enough of it to be thoroughly in touch with our institutions and with the spirit of our students, and to have an unhampered use of the English language.

For an American to acquire a thorough practical knowledge of a foreign language, only one course is adequate. He must live a considerable time in the country where it is spoken. There b no possible substitute which will accomplish his object. Any attempt to create a French or German atmosphere in this country is pretty sure to be a failure. Take into con- sideration only the relatively unimportant matter of pronunciation ; how- ever perfect a pronunciation a foreigner may bring to this country, a very few years* residence here will almost invariably give it an English shading, which becoAies stronger the more he speaks English, and the more he uses his own language among those who speak it with an English accent.* In a circle made up of these two classes of people, it is perfectly possible for an American to acquire a startling fluency in a sort of French '* after the scole of Stratford-atte Bowe," which no Frenchman can understand unless (like most Paris shopkeepers) he knows English pretty well, and which years of residence in Paris will never correct. The phonetic facts of the pronunda- tion of a forei;;n language are never thoroughly understood until one has lived among those who speak that language and no other. The same relation of things holds in regard to the use of words and idioms ; differ- ences in social life, differences in the material conditions of things, which

*A case in point is that of two ladies, both college graduates, who " spoke French very well." They went to hear a lecture by M. Coquelin, when he was in this country. As they came out, one was heard to say " How much of it could you understand?" " Isn't it funny," said the other,

"I can understand Professor 's lectures on French Literature perfectly,

but I didn't understand a aingle thing to-day."

1892. lix

OMMe words to connote different ideas from the words used to render them, cannot be thoroughly felt, and a teacher cannot be snre of his ground in dealing with them, till he has lived among both sets of the conditions which determine these differences. No man is master of a langniige until he can think in it, and no one really thinks in a language unless he has lived a fair length of time where it is the recognised medium of thought

On higher ground, too, this matter is important The modem language teacher is just now in this country, almost above all other members of his profession, the apostle of tolerance and the foe of narrowness in all its shapes^ religious, political, and social. I need only to touch this point to remind any one who has lived abroad of the inevitable logic of circumstances which brings this about Take the most proper boarding-school mistress, and the most argument-proof teacher from a sectarian Western college, who have acquired their French and Oerman from the most carefully ezpuigated editions, and taught accordingly — let them go abroad and have every means to follow out the nearest desire of their hearts; let her spend her whole time in Paris and divide it between her American friends and the shops, seeing as little of those horrid Frenchmen as possible, and come home with twelve trunks full of gowns, and let him spend his in a carefully selected German -American pennon in a university town, divide it between his land- lady's daughters and the lecture-rooms, and come home with a long beard and a Ph. D. — and yet both of them, in spite of themselves, even if they still uphold their early principles that the theatre is on the straight road to perdition, and that beer is a deadly poison, will have acquired a new and a broader view of human life, and their pupils will get good from the change. And if you send over a young man of good parts, with an honest purpose to see all the sides of life he can, and sufficient culture already in stock to interpret what he sees, he will come home with convictions #hich make him, for the rest of his life, at least a silent force opposed to sectarian intolerance, '' spread-eagle ** politics, and Philistinism in every form.

It seems to me that this matter of residence abroad is as important for OS as is laboratory work for a chemist, or dissection for a physician. There is no valid reason why it should not be considered a part of the preparation in the teacher's case as essential as the practical work in the other cases, and insisted on as such by those who employ teachers.

I have already hinted at the fact that living in a country and studying practically the language and life of the people is by no means the same thing as living there and devoting one's self to scientific study. In fact the two things are more or less antagonistic. The more a person sees of the various sides of life in a foreign country, the less time he has in which to shut himself up with bis books, and vice versa. The conscientious Ameri- can student is rather prone to make the mistake of giving relatively too much time to his books, and thereby missing the stimulus of intellectual fellowship, which is so great an element in European universities, but which our students cannot avail themselves of unless they reduce the book study

Ix MODERN LANGUAGE AaSOCIATION.

for the first semester to a minimam, and devote themselTes to getting m rapport with the social side of life and the language as a pntctical matter. After a student has done this, and not till then, he b ready to eaj whether it is better for him to make his special studies abroad or at home. In most cases it will be found that it makes surprisingly little dififerenoe. There are on bolh sides of the water competent professors and ample librariea ; ' the work to be done bj the student is largely the same wherever he is, and it is generally a question chiefly of individual instruction and the aooessibili^ of material. In general, the Germans excel in thoroughnen, and the Americans in economy of work. The student learns in Germany to shrink from no amount of work that is necessary to get to the bottom of a matter, and learns in America to eliminate intelligently that which ia unnecessary. Both habits are valuable, and study in both countries is valuable for the purpose of forming both habits. An American, however, who goes to Ger- many without sufficient maturity and individuality to steer his own oootm^ is very liable to fall under the influence of German methods of work to such an extent as to put him under a disadvantage when he comes back to work under American conditions.

A thorough and safe course would be somewhat as follows: Let a student, having given due attention to the modem languages as an undergraduate^ go to Berlin or Paris and spend a year as much as possible among the people and away from other Americans, reading newspapers more than text-books, but hearing lectures and cultivating the society of the native students^ and learning how things are done at the university. Then let him come home and take a thorough course in his subject at a good American university for a year or two, and finally go back and prepare his thesis under a German professor, or do some original work of a scholarly kind, and at the same time put the final touches on his practical knowledge of the langoage he is to teach.

Such a course would cover the essential points which I have emphasised, as far as any course of study can do it. Of course after all, teachers are born and not made, and the talent for imparting knowledge must be assumed at the outset. There is no way to prove its possession except a record of successful teaching. A bachelor's degree from a reputable American insti- tution is some guarantee of a proper amount of general culture, and of an adequate knowledge of English, while such a course of foreign study is I have indicated answers for a scientific and practical knowledge of the langusge to be taught.

It seems to me that the time has now come when those who employ modem-language teachers may insist upon the thoroughness of preparation

^ As things are now organized in Europe, there are better opportunities there for students of the Germanic than of the Romance languages, and it is therefore entirely natural that more graduate students are found at Amer- ican universities in the latter subject than in the former.

PROCEEDINGS FOB 1892. bi

which I have oQtlioed, and on the other hand that teachers mnj inaiat opon such compensation as makes it worth while to attain such preparation.

Professor H. C. 6. Brandt offered the following resolution :

Itesolvedy That the Modern Language Association of America unite with the Philological Society of England and with the American Philological Association in recommending the joint rules for amended spelling and the alphabetical list of amended words published in the Tfanscustiona of the American PhUo^ logical Association and in the CerUury Dictionary.

The resolution was discussed by Professors J. W. Bright, F. A. March, A. N. Brown, J. E. Matzke, H. E. Greene, H. C. G. von Jagemann, E. H. Magill and J. W. Pearce.

It being understood that the resolution meant no more than an approval of the efforts being made towards an ultimate revision of present English spelling, the resolution was adopted.

16. A Study of the Middle English Poem, The Pystal of Susan; its MSS., Dialect, Authorship and Style: Intro- ductory to a collated Text and Glossary. By Dr. T. P. Harrison, of the Johns Hopkins University.

The work on this poem is preparatory to editing a critical text of it, which •8 jet has never becm published. The three MSS. in which the poem is found were first discussed, from which, supported by other conditions, the date of composition of the poem was placed in the latter half of the fourteenth century. The subject of the poem is the apocryphal story of Susanna and the Elders, based not upon the Septuagint, but, as was shown, upon the version of Theodotion, with certain original additions by the author.

'In discussing the question of authorship, the article by Trantmann in An^iOy I, was considered. The result reached in that article th^t Huchown, mentioned by Andrew of Wynton, was the author of the Pyttal of Suaan was adopted, as was also that ascribing to the same author the Morte Arthure, All other poems that have been ascribed to Huchown were excluded. Argu- ments showing remarkable coincidences between Huchown and Sir Hugh of E^linton, tending to establish the identity of the two persons, were given.

The dialect in which the poem was originally written, although much obscured by copying, was considered to be that of the far north. This is shown in words and forms preserved by the rime and occasionally in

Ixii KODEBN LANGUAGE ACBOGIATIOV.

other parts of the poem. The form of the poem was Ibaod to be a oom- hination of old English traditions with certain French elements, eapeciallj in the structure of the stanza. The entire poem is an interesting example of a tranxition period in the literature. Though not able to break awaj altogether from the fetters of medieval tradition, the new beauties of the later literature — the dawn of the renaissance, as it were— are banning to shine forth in the work of this author.

This paper was discussed by Professor J. B. Henneman.

17. Irregular Forms of the Possessive Pronouns in Italian. By Mr. L. Emil Menger, of the Johns Hopkins University.

Professor J. E. Matzke :

The whole problem which, perhaps, was not stated as clearly as it might have been, is simply this. Any one who opens the life of the celebrated sculptor Benvenuto Cellini, and reads along on any page, soon becomes im- pressed with the many curious nominatiye plurals of the possessiye pronouns mia, tua, etc., which are used with a great degree of frequency. The prob- lem is, How are these to be explained? Benvenuto Cellini represents, as far as his language is concerned, the Florentine dialect of the beginning of the 16th century. The explanation, of course, can be attempted in several ways, — phonetically, analogically, morphologically. The only good pho* netic explanation is the one referred to by Mr. Menger, which has been given by Meyer-Liibke in his Italian grammar. According to this scholar mia derives from Latin mei in a similar way as popular Tuscan lia goes back to the regular lei ; and he distinctly affirms the process to have been phonetic

I can conceive of no phonetic development by which this change could have taken place. Mr. Menger justly asks the question. If ei becomes ta according to phonetic law, why did not every other ei become id in Tuscan speech? The suggestion which Mr. Menger makes that ponsibly the firrt sound of the wonl, which is / in this case, may have had something to do with the raising of the vowel « to i, I think is well taken. The fact remains that there is only this one word where ei actually becomes ia. In one place where he has found it, it is spelled gtia and actually shows a palatal I, Whether that explains the whole development of lei to lia^ or not, I would not affirm. If true, the final vowel a might be explained as due to that tendency of Tuscan speech, mentioned by lyOvidio in Arch* OlotLy Vol. IX, which favors an a at the end of the word.

A phonetic explanation not being probable, we next look for an analogi- cal explanation, and there we find only one — that of the feminine singular. Mr. Menger shows that this also is not probable. This feminine singular is by no means the form most frequently used. The discussion of Mr.

PBOCEEDIKGB FOB 1892. Iziii

Menger is most interesting. It leads the question back to the most simple explanation of the whole problem, namely : that it is a simple oontinnation, in that under current of popular speech, of the Latin neuter plurals. These have liyed on in the Italian language to the present daj, and have cropped out in literature at various times.

They have evidenlly lived on rightful I7 with nouns that are also pre- served in their neuter plural forms, as braccia, dita, ginoochia, labbra. One of the oldest examples of mia happens to be in connection with braccia (le mia hracciOj in Dante), an occurrence which goes far to prove the truth of Mr. Menger's position. Thus entablished, the use of the neuter plural forms grows to be a mannerism with certain writers, unti] we come to the 16th century. Then the literary language becomes fixed, the laws of grammar become established, and mia disappears from the literary speech, but lives on in the popular speech.

I think the paper of Mr. Menger is valuable in giving a reasonable solu- tion of a problem which had been complicated by supposing it to be phonetic, when it was really nothing but a mere growth of existing Latin forms.

18. J. G. Schottel's Inflnenoe on the Development of the Modern German Schriftaprache. By Professsor H. C. G. von Jagemann^ of Harvard University.

This paper was discussed by Professors J. E. Matzke, A. Gudeman^ A. M. Elliott, and H. Schoufeld.

Dr. J. W. Pearoe then oflTered the following resolution :

Besolvedy That the thanks of this Association be extended to the President and the Board of Trustees of the Columbian University for the generous entertainment of this convention, and

Resolvedj That this Association return its thanks to Pro- fessor A. Melville Bell, President of the Phonetic Section, for the pleasant B,eception given to the members of this Associa- tion, at his residence, on Thursday evening.

The resolution was unanimously adopted.

The Association then adjourned.

Ixiv MODERN LANGUAGE A8800LATION.

EXTRA SESSION.

The Art Institute, Chicago, III.

Thursday, July 13, 1893.

In aeoordance with the decision adopted December 30, 1893 {&upraj p. xxxvii), the Association convened in Extra Session under the auspices of the World's Congress Auxiliary of the World's Columbian Exposition.

MOBNING SESSION.

The Association was called to order at 9.30 o'clock bj President Francis A. March.

The Secretary, James W. Bright, made a brief statement of the purpose of the meeting, and then the reading of papers was begun.

Fifty-six members were present.

1. The Language of the Sciences, and a Universal Lan- guage. By President Francis A. March.

During the reading of this paper Dr. C. P. G. Scott presided.

The paper was discussed by Professors J. M. Garnett, C. P. G. Scott, Gustaf E. Karsten, George Hempl, H. C. G. Brandt and A. Gudeman.

2. The Psychological Basis of Phonetic Law and Analogy. By Professor Gustaf E. Karsten, of the University of Indiana, Bloomington, Ind.

The discussion was opened by Professor H. C. G. Brandt, and continued by Professors Gtjorge Hempl, Stephan Waet- zoldt, A. H. Tolman and J. W, Bright.

PB0CEEDING6 FOB 1892. Ixv

AFTEBNOOK SESSION. The President called the Association to order at 3 o'clock.

3. On the Source of the Itah'an and English Idioms Mean- ing " To Take Time by the Forelock," with Special Reference to Bojardo's " Orlando Innamorato/' Bk. ii. Cantos 7-9. By Professor John E. Matzke, of the Leland Stanford Jr. Uni- versity, Palo Alto, Cal.

In the absence of its author, this paper was read by Professor A. Gudeman.

Dr. Karl Pietsch, of the Newberry Library :

The vene

" Fronte capillata, poet est Occasio calva "

Ib taken from the collection of the soKadled OaUmit diitieha. From the popularity, during the middle ages, of this collection I should conclude that the allegory of Lysippus was never forgotten after Ausonius.

Professor James W. Bright :

It is interestinfi: to notice the free handling of the expression ' to take time hy the forelock' in Shakespeare :

Let's Uke the instant by the forward top,— AlTs Wdl, V, 3. To take the safest occasion by the front — OthdlOf III, 1.

The novel, QUeUa qf Narbonne (=Gu>rfi, iii, 9), on which AlPs Weil is based was obtained from Painter's Palace of PUouure, The English version furnishes no instance of the expression in question. No leas characteristic is the touch of Tennyson in the lines :

And statesmen at her council met

Who knew the seoMone when to take

Oeoation by the hand, and make The bounds of freedom wider yet. — To the Queen,

Dr. Stephan Waetzoldt, Professor at the University of Berlin, and General^Kommisaar der Deuischen UrderrichtsavLB' stellung, then addressed the Association on the scope and significance of the Grerman Educational Exhibit at the World's Columbian Exposition. 5

Ixvi KOD£BN LAKGUAOE ASBOCilATION.

The following additional papers announced on the pro- gramme were not read, the attendance of the authors having been unexpectedly prevented :

4. German Philology in America. By Professor M. D. Learned, of the Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md.

5. Pedagogical Questions in Germany. By Professor Emil Hausknecht, of the Victoria Lyceum, Berlin, Germany.

6. A Survey of the Teaching of English Literature in America. By Professor Charles W. Kent, of the Universi^ of Virginia.

7. On the Training of Collie and University Professors. By Professor A. Kambeau, of the Johns Hopkins University.

The Secretary reported that the Executive Council had elected the following eminent Modern Language scholars of Europe to Honorary Membership in this Association.

K. von Bader, University of Leipsic.

Alois L. Brandl, University of Strassbui^.

Henry Bradley, London.

W. Braune, University of Heidelberg.

Wendelin Forster, University of Bonn.

Gustav Grober, University of Strassburg.

R. Hildebrand, University of Leipsic.

Fr. Kluge, University of Freiburg.

Eugen Kolbing, University of Breslau.

Paul Meyer, College de France.

James A. H. Murray, Oxford.

Arthur Napier, University of Oxford.

Fritz Neumann, University of Heidelberg.

Adolf Noreen, University of Upsala.

Gaston Paris, Collie de France.

H. Paul, University of Munich.

F. York Powell, University of Oxford.

Pio Rajna, Florence.

J. Schipper, University of Vienna,

PBOCEEDiNGS FOB 1892. Lsvii

H. Schachart, University of Graz. Eduard Sievers, University of Leipsic* W. W. Skeat, University of Cambridge. Johann Storm, University of Christiania. H. Suehier, University of Halle. Henry Sweet, Reigate, England. Adolf Tobler, University of Berlin. Rich. Paul Wulker, University of Leipsic. Julias Zupitza, University of Berlin.

On motion of Professor H. C. 6. Brandt this election was confirmed by a unanimous vote of the convention.

The Association then adjourned to meet in Regular Session at Washington, D. C, in the month of December.

.A

Ixviii MODERN LANOUAOE A8S0CIATIOK.

OFFICERS OF THE MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION OF AMERICA FOR THE YEAR 1893.

IVmidefU: FRANCIS A. MARCH,

Seerelaqf: I\rm9urer:

JAMES W. BRIGHT, JOHN £. MATZKE,

Acting TV&uurtr: I

M. D. LEARNED, J

JMiM ffopktm Unbmnity, Bammon^ Md,

. EXECUTIVE COUNCIL:

(In tddiiion to Um ftboT^-nuMd oAotn.)

ALBERT a COOK, H. C. G. BRANDT,

YdU IMivtrtii^, New Hatrn^ (htm, BamOI^H CUUge, CUmt&i^ If, T.

H. C. G. VON JAGEMANN, WALTER D. TOY,

Harvard UniterHty, Omhridgt^ Mao. IMv. ^ N&rlA CbrvMno, Chapel JBU, N. C

J. B. HENNEMAN, MORGAN CALLAWAY, Jb^

IMv. qf TmiMtMft, KnoxvUU, Turn, XMimrwUif </ IVsu,

HENRY A. TODD, G. A. HENCH,

Oohtmbia QUU^ New Ytrk, N. Y, Univ. of Mich,, Afm Arbor, MialL

F. M. WARREN,

Adiibari CbUege, Ctewland, Ohio,

PHONETIC SECTION:

Prendent : Seerelary :

A. MELVILLE BELL, C. H. GRANDGENT,

Washingiont D. C, Qtatbridge, Mass.

PEDAGOGICAL SECTION:

Pretident: Secrekary:

CHARLES HARRIS, A. N. VAN DAELL,

Adtibtrt OblUffe, Ctnetand, OMo. Most. IntHtvU ^ 2V0*iMlOf|r.

EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE: H. C. G. VON JAGEMANN, ALBERT S. COOK,

Fir$i Viee-Pretideni, Seoond Vfca-PruidaHL

F. M. WARREN,

Third Vte^PreHdent.

EDITORIAL COMMITTEE: A. MARSHALL ELLIOTT, T. W. HUNT,

Johns Hopkins (MiversUy, BalHmore, Md, Princelon OMsge, N, J,

PB0CEEDIN08 FOB 1892.

MEMBERS OF THE MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION OF AMERICA.*

Abernethj, Mr. J. W., 23 Clifton Place, BrooklTD, N. Y. Adler, Dr. Cyrus, Smithsonian Institute, Washington, D. C. Akers, Prof. J. T., Central College, Richmond, E7. Alien, Prof. Edward A., Univenitj of Missouri, Columbia, Mo. Anderson, Prof. £. P., Miami University, Oxford, Ohio. Anderson, Prof. M. B., Leland Stanford Jr. Univ., Palo Alto^ Cal. Anderson, Miss Mary, Isbell College, Talladega, Ala. Andrews, Prof. G. L., U. S. Milit. Academy, West Point, N. Y. Armes, Prof. William D., University of California, Berkeley, Cal. Armstrong, Prof. J. L., Randolph-Maoon Woman's College, Lynchburg, Ya. Augustin, Miss Marie J., Sophie Newcomb Memorial College, New Or- leans, La.

Babbitt, Prof. R H., Columbia College, New York, N. Y. Bacon, Mr. G. A., 364 Washington St., Boston, Mass. Bader, Prof. John H., City Schools, Staunton, Ya. Baldwin, Mr. C. S., Columbia College, New York, N. Y. Bartlett, Mr. D. L., 16 W. Monument St., Baltimore, Md. Bartlett, Prof. G. A., Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. Baskervill, Prof. W. M., Yanderbilt University, Nashville, Tenn. Belden, Prof. EL M., University of Nebraska, Lincoln, Neb. Bel-Fouch^, Miss E. Marie, 368 Bidge Avenue, Allegheny, Pa. Bell, Prof. A. Melville, 1625 36th St., W., Washington, D. C. Bernhardt, Prof. W., High School, Washington, D. C. Bevier, Prof. Louis^ Rutgers College, New Brunswick, N. J. Blackburn, Prof. F. A., University of Chicago, Chicago, IlL Blackwell, Prof. R. E., Randolph -Macon College, Ashland, Ya. Bloomberg, Prof. A. A., Lafayette College, Easton, Pa. Blume, Mr. Julius, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md. Boatwright, Prof. F. W., Richmond College, Richmond, Va. Both-Hendriksen, Miss L., 166 Macon St., Brooklyn, N. Y. Bothne^ Prof. Gisle, Luther College, Decora, Iowa.

' Members are earnestly requested to notify promptly both the Secretary and the Treasurer of changes of address.

IXX KODEBN LANOUAOE AflSOGIATIOK.

Bonrlmnd, Prof. A. P., Southwestern Baptist UdIv^ Jwckmm, Tflnn.

Bowen, Prof. B. L., Ohio State UniverBitj, Ck>lumba8, Ohio.

Bowen, Dr. E. W., Bowens, Md. - Brandt» Prof. H. G. G., Hamilton College, Clinton, N. Y.

Br^^, Prof. C. P., 144 W. Coulter St, Qermantown, Pa.

Brereton, Prof. J. J., Butgers College, New Brunswick, K. J.

Bright, Prof. James W., Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md.

Brinton, Dr. D. Q., 2041 Chestnut St., Philadelphia, P^

BrUtol, Mr. R N., 29 W. 23d St., New York, N. Y. ' Bronson, Prof. T. B., Laurenceville, N. J.

Brown, Mr. A. N., Naval Academy, Annapolis, Md.

Brown, Prof. CaWin S., Vanderbilt Universitj, Nashville, Tenn.

Brown, Prof. £. M., University of Cincinnati, Cincinnati, Ohio.

Bruce, Prof. J. D., Brjn Mawr College, Bryn Mawr. Pa.

Bruner, Prof. J. D., University of Illinois, Champaign, III.

Bryan, Ensign Henry F., Naval Academy, Annapolis, Md.

Butler, Prof. F. B., Woman's College, Baltimore, Md.

Cabell, Mrs. W. D., 1407 Mass. Avenue, Washington, D. C.

Caldwell, Mr. J. W., Irving Club, Knozville, Tenn.

Callaway, Jr., Prof. M., University of Texas, Austin, Texas.

Cameron, Prof. A. Guyot, Yale University, New Haven, Conn.

Canfield, Prof. A. Q., University of Kansas, Lawrence, Kansas. ^ Carruth, Prof. W. H., University of Kansas, Lawrence, Kansas.

Carter, President Franklin, Williams College, Williamstown, Mass.

Chamberlain, Prof. A. F., Clark University, Worcester, Mass.

Chapman, Prof. Henry Leland, Bowdoin College, Brunswick, Maine.

Chase, Prof. O. C, Bates College, Lewiston, Maine.

Chambers, Prof. H. £., Tulane University, New Orleans, La.

Cheek, Prof. S. R., Centre College, Danville, Ky.

Child, Mr. Clarence O., Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md.

Chollet, Prof. Charles, La. State University, Baton Rouge, La.

Clark, Miss Edith M., Norwood Institute, Washington, D. C.

Clary, Mr. S. W., 5 Somerset St., Boston, Mass.

Cohn, Prof. Ad&lphe, Columbia College, New York, N^ Y.

Coggetihall, Miss Louise K., 35 Key St., New Port, B. I. « Collitz, Prof H., Bryn Mawr College, Bryn Mawr, Pa.

Colton, Mr. A. W., 116 West Divinity, New Haven, Conn.

Colville, Mr. W. T., Carbondale, Pa.

Colvin, Mrs. Mary Noyes, 875 Park Avenue, Baltimore, Md.

Cook, Prof. Albert S., Yale University, New Haven, Conn.

Crane, Prof. T. F., Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y.

Crawshaw, Prof. W. H., Colgate University, Hamilton, N. Y.

Crowell, Prof. A. C, German Seminar, Brown University, R. I.

PB0CEEDIKG8 FOB 1892. Ix^

^ Cnnne, Prof. Q. O., Cornell College, Moant Vernon, Iowa. ^ Catting, Prof. Sturr W., Universitj of Chicago, Chicago, HI.

▼an Daell, Prof. A. N., 105 Irving St., Cambridge, Maas. BaTea, Prof. E. G., 821 St. Paul St., Baltimore, Idd. Davidson, Dr. Charles, Univenitj of Indiana, Bloomington, Ind. Davies, Prof. W. W., Ohio Weslejan Univendtj, Delaware, Ohio. Davis, Prof. A. K., Southern Female College, Petersbarg, Va. Dawson, Prof. A. C, Lake Forest University, Lake Forest, lU. Deering, Prof. W., Woman's College, Cleveland, Ohio. Deghute, Mr. Charles, 247 Harrison St., Brooklyn, N. Y. Denio, Miss E. H., Wellesley Collie, Wellesley, Mass. Dessommes, Prof. R, 274 Burgundy St., New Orleans, La. Dippold, Prof. G. T., Mass. Inst, of Technology, Boston, Mass. Dodge, Prof. D. K., University of Illinois, Champaign, HI. Dodge, Prof. P. D., Berea College, Berea, Ky. Doesburg, Prof. C, Hope College, Holland, Mich. Drennan, Prof. M. J., Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, N. Y. Dunlap, Prof. C. G., University of Kansas, Lawrence, Kansas.

Easton, Prof. M. W., University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa.

Egge^ Prof. Albert £., State Univ. of Iowa, Iowa City, Iowa.

E^gers, Prof. K A., State Univ. of Ohio, Columbus, Ohio.

Elliott, Prof. A. Marshall, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md.

Emerson, Dr. O. F., Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y.

Epes, Prof. J. D., St. John's College, Annapolis, Md.

Fairfield, Prof. F. W., Howard University, Washington, D. C. Faust, Dr. A. B., Havre de Grace, Md.

Fava, Prof. Francis R., Columbian University, Washington, D. C. Fay, Prof. C. E., TufU College, College Hill, Mass.

Fay, Prof. E. A., National Deaf Mute College, Kendall Green, Washing- ton, D. C. Fell, President Thomas, St. John's College, Annapolis, Md. Ferren, Mr. H. M., Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md. Flugel, Prof. EwaUi, Leland SUnford Jr. Univ., Palo Alto» CaL Fontaine, Prof. J. A., Bryn Mawr College, Bryn Mawr, Pa. Fortier, Prof. Alc^, Tulane University, New Orleans, La. Francke, Prof. K., Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. Freeman,* Prof. C C, Kentucky UniverHity, Lexington, Ky. Freeman, Miss L. Blackstone, 18 W. 31st St., New York, N. Y. Froehlicher, Prof. H., Woman's College, Baltimore, Md. Fruit, Prof. J. P., Bethel College, Russellville, Ky. FuUer, Prof. Paul, P. O. Box 2669, New York, N. Y.

Ixzii MOD£BN LANGUAGE AS80GIATIOK.

Gkmdolfo, Mr. P. C, 2608 Park Avenae, St. Loaia, Mo.

des QarenneS) Prof. Poalain J., 1108 G Street, Waahington, D. G.

Gamer, Prof. S., Naval Academy, Annapolis, Md.

Gamett, Prof. J. M., University of Viiginia, Charlottesville, Va.

Gaw, Mrs. Lily Storrs, 1318 Filmore St., Topeka, Kansas.

Geddes, Jr., Prof. James, Boston University, Boston, Mass.

Gerber, Prof. A., Earlham Ck>llege, Richmond, Ind.

Goebel, Prof. Julius, Leiand Stanford Jr. Univ., Palo Alto, Gal.

Gore, Prof. J. H., Columbian University, Washington, D. C.

Gorrell, Mr. J. H., Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md.

Grandgent, Prof. C. H., 19 Wendell St., Cambridge, Mass.

Green, Miss Shirley, Palestine, Texas.

Greene, Prof. H. E., Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md.

Grossmann, Prof. Edward A., San Remo Hotel, Central Park, W. 75th St^

New York, N. Y. Griffin, Prof. James P., Leiand Stanford Jr. Univ., Palo Alto, Cal. Groth, Dr. P., 291 49th St., Brooklyn, N. Y. Gruener, Prof. Gustav, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. Gudeman, Prof. A., University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. Gummere, Prof. F. B., Haverford College, Pa. Gwinn, Miss Mary M., Bryn Mawr College, Bryn Mawr, Pa.

Hall, Prof. J. Lesslie, College of William and Mary, Williamsburg, Va.

Halsey, Prof. J. J., Lake Forest University, Lake Forest, lU.

Hamburger, Prof. Felix, Pawtucket, R. I.

Harper, Prof. G. M., Princeton University, Princeton, N. J.

Harris, Prof. Chas., Adelbert College, Cleveland, Ohio.

Harrison, Prof. J. A., Washington and Lee Univ., Lexington, Va.

Harrison, Prof. T. P., Clemson College, Fort Hill, S. C.

Hart, Prof. C. £., 33 Livingston Avenue, New Brunswick, N. J.

Hart, Prof. J. M., Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y.

Harvey, Prof. J. I., West Virginia Univ., Morgantown, W. Va.

Hatfield, Prof. James T., Northwestern University, Evanston, 111.

Haupt, Prof. Paul, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md.

Hausknecht, Prof. Emil, Calvin Str. 46 Berlin, N. W., Germany.

Haussmann, Mr. W. A., 907 Hutchinson St, Philadelphia, Pa.

Hay, Prof. Henry H., Girard College, Philadelphia, Pa.

Heath, Mr. D. C, 5 Somerset St., Boston, Mass.

Heller, Prof. Otto, Washington University, Saint Louis, Mo.

Hempl, Prof. George, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich.

Hench, Prof. G. A., University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich.

Henneman, Prof. J. B., University of Tennessee, Knoxville, Tenn.

Herdler, Prof. Alexander W., Princeton University, Princeton, N. J.

Hewitt, Prof. W. T., Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y.

Hobigand, Mr. J. A., 29 Chestnut St., Boston, Mass.

PB0CEEDING8 FOB 1892.

Hochdoffer, Prof. B., Wittenberg College, Springfield, Ohio.

Hohlfeld, Prof. A. B., Vanderbilt Uniyersitj, Nashville, Tenn.

Homing, Prof. L. £., Victoria University, Coboorgh, Ont

Howe, Mifls M. A., 218 Main St, Hartford, Conn.

Hubbard, Prof. C. F., Centre College, Danville, K7.

Hubbard, Prof. F. G., Universitj of Wisconsin, Madison, Wise.

Hudson, Prof. William H., Leiand Stanford Jr. Univ., Palo Alto, CaL

Hunt, Prof. T. W., Princeton University, Princeton, N. J.

Huse, Prof. R. M.

Huss, Prof. H. C. O., Princeton University, Princeton, N. J.

Ingraham, Prof. A., The Swain Free School, New Bedford, Mass.

von Jagemann, Prof. H C. G., Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. JameS) Prof. £. C, Culpeper, Female Seminary, Culpeper, Va. Johnson, Prof. H., Bowdoin College, Brunswick, Maine. Jordan, Miss M. A., Smith College^ Northampton, Mass. Joynes, Prof. £. S., South Carolina College, Columbia, S. C.

Karsten, Prof. Gnstaf E., University of Indiana, Bloomington, Ind. Kendall, Prof. F. L., Williams College, Williamstown, Mass. Kent, Prof. Charles W., University of Virginia, Charlottesville, Va. Key, Prof. W. H., Hendrix College, Conway, Ark. King, Miss Grace, 530 Baronne St., New Orleans, La. King, Prof. B. A., Wabash College, Crawfordsville, Ind. Kittredge, Prof. G. L., Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. Klenner, Mr. B. F., Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md. von Klenze, Dr. C, University of Chicago, Chicago, III. Knox, Prof. Charles S., St. Paul's School, Concord, New Hamp. Kroeh, Prof. C. F., Stevens Inst, of Technology, Hoboken, N. J. Kuersteiner, Prof. A. F., Hughes High School, Cincinnati, Ohio.

Ladd, Prof. Wm. C, Haverford College, Pa.

Lagarde, Prof. Ernest, Mount St. Mary's College, Mount St Mary's, Md.

Lang, Prof. H. B., Yale University, New Haven, Conn.

Learned, Prof. M. D., Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md.

Lebon, Prof. C. P., 42 Waumbeck St., Bozbury Station, Boston, Mass.

Leser, Dr. Eugen, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich.

Lewis, Dr. E. S., Princeton University, Princeton, N. J.

Link, Prof. S. A., Tenn. School for the Blind, Nashville, Tenn.

Littleton, Prof. J. T., 1119 Main St, Danville, Va.

Lodeman, Prof. A., Michigan State Normal School, Ypsilanti, Mich.

Lodge, Prof. L. D., Columbian University, Washington, D. C.

Logic, Prof. Thomas^ Butgers College, New Brunswick, N. J.

Long, Prof. A. W., Lawrenoeville, N. J.

Ixxiv MODERN LANGUAGE AfiSOdATION.

Longdeo, Prof. Henrj B., De P^uw OniTenitj, Qraencmstla, Ind.

LoomiB, Prof. P., Bucknell UoiTenitjy Lewbbarg, Pa.

Laqaiens, Prof. J., Yale Univeraitj, New HaTeo, Oonn.

Latz, Prof. F., Albioo College, Albion, Mich.

Ljmao, Dr. A. B., Lyman, Md.

Lyon, Prof. Edmund, 110 a Fitxhogh St., Rochester, N. T.

Macine, Prof. John, Lock Box 116, Grand Forks, N. D.

MacMechan, Prof. Archibald, Dalhousie College, Halifax, N. 8.

Magill, Prof. Edward H., Swarthmore College, Swarthmore, P^

Manly, Prof. John M., Brown UniTersity, I^vidence, R. L

Manning, Prof. E. W., De Pauw UniTersity, Qreencastle, Ind.

Marburg, Mira A., 6 East Eager St., Baltimore, Md.

March, Prof. Francis A., Lafayette College, Easton, Pa.

March, Jr., Prof. Francis A., Lafayette College, Easton, Pa.

Marcou, Prof. P. B., Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass.

Marden, Mr. C. C, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md.

Martin, Prof. S. A., Lincoln University, Pa.

Massie, Prof. RodeB, Winchester, Va.

Mather, Jr., Prof. Frank Jewett, Williams College, Williamstowiiy

Matske, Prof. J. E., Leland Stanford Jr. University, Palo Alto» Oal.

McAuley, Prof. J. P., 216 First St., N. E., Washington, D. C.

McBryde, Jr., Mr. J. M., Biacksburg, Va.

McCabe, Prof. W. G., University School, Petersburg, Va.

McClintock, Prof. W. D., University of Chicago, Chicago, TIL

McClumpha, Prof. C. F., University of the City of New York, N. Y.

Mcllwaine, Prof. H. R., Hampden Sydney College, Prince Edward OOi,

Virginia. McKibhen, Prof. G. F., Denison University, Granville, Ohio. McLaughlin, Prof. Edward T., Yale University, New Haven, Conn. Mellen, Prof. George F., University of Tennessee, Knoxville, Tenn. Menger, Dr. L. EL, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md. Michaels, Miss R A., Northwestern University, Evanston, 111. Milford, Prof. Arthur B., Wabash College, Crawfordsville, Ind. Milne, Mr. C. J., Riitenhouse Club, 1811 Walnut St., PhiUdelphia, Pft. Montague, Prof. W. L., Amherst College, Amherst, Mass. Morse, Miss I. M., Univerhity of Wyoming, Laramie, Wyoming. Mott, Prof. L. F., University of the City of New York, New York, N. Y. Murray, Prof. J. O., Princeton University, Princeton, N. J. Muzzarelli, Prof. A., The Metropolitan, Cor. 23d St. and Madison At., N. Y.

Nash, Prof. B., 252 Beacon St., Boston, Mass.

Newcomer, Prof. A. G., Leland Stanford Jr. University, Pklo Alto, CaL

Nichols, Prof. Alfred B., Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass.

O'Connor, Prof. B. F., New York, N. Y.

Ogden, Prof. H. M., University of West Virginia, Morgantown, W. Va.

PBOCEEDIKQS FOB 1892. lxX¥

Osthaai, Prof. Carl, UoiTenitj of Indiana, Bloomington, Ind.

Ott, Prof. J. H^ Watertown, Wisoonsin.

Owen, Prof. R T., Univendtj of Wisoonsin, MadiBon, Wibc.

P^^, Prof. F. M., Brjn Mawr College, Bryn Mawr, Ptt.

Painter, Prof. F. V. N., Roanoke College, Salem, Va.

Palmer, Prof. A. H., Yale UniTersity, New HaTen, Conn.

Panooast, Prof. Henry S., Germantown, Pa.

Paul, Mn. lyArcy, 1129 Calvert St., N., Baltimore, Md.

Pearoe, Dr. J. W., Tolane University, New Orleans, La.

Pearson, Prof. C. W., Beloit College, Beloit, Wise.

Pendleton, Miss A. C, Bethany College, Bethany, W. Va.

Penn, Mr. H. C, 33 Divinity Hall, Cambridge, Mass.

Perkinson, Prof. W. H., University of Virginia, Charlottesville, Va.

Pemet, Prof. Emil, 1108 Walnut St., Philadelphia, Pa.

Perrin, Prof. M. L., Boston University, Boston, Mass.

Pierce, Prof. Imogen S., The National Institute, P. O. Box 494, Washing- ton, D. C.

Poll, Prof. Max, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass.

Pollard, Prof. J., Richmond College, Richmond, Va.

Porter, Prof. S., National Deaf Mute College, Kendall Green, Washing- ton, D. C.

de Poyen, Mr. Ren^, Mt. Washington, Md.

Price, Prof. Thomas R., Columbia College, New York, N. Y. [41 £. 22nd St.]

Primer, Prof. Sylvester, University of Texas, Austin, Texas.

Pusey, Prof. £. D., St. John's College, Annapolis, Md.

Putaker, Prof. A., University of California, Berkeley, Cal.

Rambeau, Prof. A., Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md«

Reeves, Prof. C. F., Pennsylvania State College, State College, Pa.

Reeves, Dr. W. P., 222 N. 10th St., Richmond, Ind.

Rennert, Prof. H. A., University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa.

Rhoades, Prof. L. A., University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich.

Rice, Prof. J. C, Cheltenham Academy, Ogonts, Montgomery Co., Pa.

Rice, Prof. R. A., Williams College, Williamstown, Mass.

Richardson, Prof. H. B., Amhenit College, Amherst, Mass.

Ringer, Prof. S., Lehigh University, South Bethlehem, Pa.

Rohde, Prof. J., 142 and 144 Annunciation St., New Orleans, La.

Rose, Prof. C. J., Hobart College, Geneva, N. Y.

Ross, Prof. Charles H., Agricultural and Mechanical College, Auburn, Ala.

de Rougemont, Prof. A., Adelphi Academy, Brooklyn, N. Y.

Roy, Prof. James, Suspension Bridge, N. Y.

Sampson, Prof. M. W., University of Indiana, Bloomington, Ind. Saunders, Mrs. M. J. T., Martin College for Young Ladies, Pulaski, Tenn.

tzxvi MODEBN LANGUAGE AfiSOCIATIOH.

SaundexBon, Prof. G. W., UniTenitj of WiflooDtiii, MadisoD, Wiic [62S

Lake 8t] Scheie de Vere, Prof. M., Uniyenitj of Virginia, CharldtesTilley Va. SchelUng, Prof. F. K, University of Pennsylyania, Philadelphia, F^ Schilling, Prof. H., Harvard UniTersitj, Cambridge, Mass. Schmidt- Wartenburg, Prof. H., Univeruty of Chicago^ Chicago^ IlL Schdnfeld, Prof. H., Columbian University, Washington^ D. CL Schrakamp, Miss Josephs, 715 Fifth Avenue, New York, N. Y. Scott, Dr. C. P. G., 57 High St., Yonkers, N. Y. Scott, Prof. Edward L., La. State University, Baton Bouge, La. Scott, Prof. F. N., University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. S4e, Miss Rosalie, 222 Madison Avenue, New York, N. Y. Seidensticker, Prof. O., University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia^ Pia. Semple, Prof. L. B., Lehigh University, South Bethlehem, Pk. Seybold, Prof. C. F., University of Cincinnati, Cincinnati, Ohio. Sharp, Prof. B., Tulane University, New Orleans, La. Shefloe, Prof. Joseph S., Woman^s College, Baltimore, Md. Sheldon, Prof. E. S., Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. Sherman, Prof. L. A., University of Nebraska, Lincoln, Neb. Shipley, Mr. George, Upperville, Va,

Shumway, Prof. D. B., University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia^ Plu Simonds, Prof. W. £., Knox College, Galesburg, 111.

Simonton, Prof. J. S., Washington and Jefferson College, Washingtoiiy P!k Sims, Prof. W. R, University of Mississippi, University P. O., Misa. Smith, Prof. C. Alphonso, University of Louisiana, Baton Rouge, La. Smith, Prof. C. Sprsgue, 264 W. 57th St., New York, N. Y. Smith, Mr. H. A., 77 W. Divinity, New Haven, Conn. Smith, Mr. Justin H. (Ginn <& Co.), 7-18 Tremont St, Boston, Mass. Smith, Prof. Kirby F., Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md. Smyth, Prof. A. H., 118 N. 11th St., Philadelphia, Pa. Sledd, Prof. F. R, Wake Forest College, Wake Forest, N. C. Snow, Prof. Wm. B., English High School, Montgomery St, Boston, MaM» Snyder, Prof. E., Illinois College, Champaign, 111. Spanhoofd, Prof. E., St. Paul's School, Concord, N. H. Spencer, Prof. Frederic, University of North Wales, Bangor, Wales. Speranza, Prof. C. L., Columbia College, New York, N. Y. Spieker, Prof. E. H., Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md. Spiers, Prof. J. H. B., Wayne, Pa.

Spofford, Hon. A. R., Congressional Library, Washington, D. C Stoddard, F. H., University of the City of New York, N. Y. Stratton, Mr. A. W., 464 Euclid Avenue, Toronto, Canada, de Sumichrast, Prof. F., Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. Super, Prof. O. B., Dickinson College, Carlisle, Pa. Sweet, Miss Marguerite, Stephen town, N. Y., Vassar College, Pough-

keepsie, N. Y. Sykes, Mr. Fred. H., 14 Augusta Avenue, Toronto, Canada.

PBOCEEDINGS FOB 1892. IxXvU

Taliaferro, Mn. B. F., Montgomeij Female College, ChiiBtiansboroogh, Va.

Tallichet, Prof. H., Uniyerritj of Texas, Austin, Texas.

Taylor, Mr. J^ Department of State, Washinn^ton, D. G.

Thomas, Prof. CalTio, Universitj of Michigan, Ann Arhor, Mich.

Thomas, Mias Maj, 810 UniTersity ATenue, Madison, Wise

Thomas, Miss M. Carey, Bryn Mawr College, Bryn Mawr, Pa.

Thorber, Prof. S., 18 Westminster ATenue, Boxbary, Mass.

Todd, Prof. H. A., Columbia College, New York, N. Y. [Hoffinan Arms,

640 Madison Ave.] Tolman, Prof. A. H., Uniyerdty of Chicago^ Chicago, 111. Toy, Prof. W. D., University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, N. C. Tufts, Prof. J. A., Phillips Exeter Academy, Exeter, N. H. Tupper, Jr., Prof. Fred., Wells College, Aurora, N. Y. Turk, Prof. M. H., Hobart College, Geneva, N. Y. Tumbull, Mrs. Lawrence, 1530 Park ATenue, Baltimore, Md. Tutwiler, Mrs. Julia B., 706 St. Paul St., Baltimore, Md. Tweedie, Prof. W. M., Mt Allison College, Sackville, N. B.

Vail, Prof. C. D., Hobart College, Geneva, N. Y.

Vance, Prof. H. A., University of Nashville, Nashville, Tenn.

Vogel, Prof. Frank, 120 Pembroke St., Boston, Mass.

Yob, Dr. Bert John, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md.

Wegener, Prof. H. F., 58 St. Philip St., Charleston, S. C.

Wahl, Prof. G. M., Quincy, Mass.

Walter, Prof. £. L., University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich.

Warren, Prof. F. M., Adelbart College, Cleveland, Ohio.

Weaver, Prof. G. E. H., 300 South 36th St., Philadelphia, Pa.

Weeks, Prof. Baymond, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich.

WcUb^ Prof. B. W., University of the South, Sewanee, Tenn.

Wenckebach, Miss Carla, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass.

Werner, Prof. A., College of the aty of New York, New York, N. Y.

Wharton, Prof. L. B., College of William and Mary, Williamsburg, Va.

Wheeler, Miss Emily, Bockford, 111.

White, Prof. H. S., Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y.

Whiteford, Mr. Bobert N., Lake Forest Academy, Lake Forest, Illinois.

Whitelock, Mr. George, 10 £. Lexington St., Baltimore, Md.

Wightman, Prof. J. K., Oberlin College, Oberlin, Ohio.

Willcox, Prof. C. P., University of Georgia, Athens, Ga.

Willis, Prof. B. H., Arkansas Industrial University, Fayetteville, Ark.

Wilson, Prof. Charles Bundy, State University of Iowa, Iowa City, Iowa.

Winchester, Prof. C. T., Wesleyan University, Middletown, Conn.

Wood, Prof. Henry, John Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md.

Woodberry, Prof. George E, Columbia College, New York, N. Y.

Woodward, Dr. B. D., Columbia College, New York, N. Y,

Wright, Prof. C. R, Middlebury College, Middlebury, Vt. [867]

IxXViii MODERN LANGUAGE AfiSOOIATIOK.

LIBRARIES

Subscribing for the Pubucationb of tsb

Association.

Albany, N. Y. : New York SUte Libraiy. [Stechert A Co.]

Austin, Texan : University of Texas Library.

Baltimore, Md. : Enoch Pratt Free Library.

Baltimore, Md. : Johns Hopkins University Library.

Baltimore, Md. : Library of the Peabody Institute.

Baltimore, Md. : Woman's College Library.

Boston, Mafs. : Public Library of the City of Boston.

Bryn Mawr, Pa. : Bryn Mawr College Library.

Cambridge, Mass. : Harvard University Library. [Chaa. W. Sever.]

Chicago, 111. : The Newl»erry Library.

Chicago, 111.: Library of the English Department of the Univ. of Chioago.

Easton, Pa. : Lafayette College Library.

Evanston, 111. : Northwestern University Library.

Fort Hill, 8. C. : Clemson College Library.

Hamilton, N. Y.: Colgate University Library.

Ithaca, N. Y.: Cornell University Library.

Knoxville, Tenn. : University of Tennessee Library.

Lincoln, Neb. : State University of Nebraska Library.

Madison, Wisconsin : University of Wisconsin Library.

Middletown, Conn.: Wesleyan University Library.

New Haven, Conn. : Yale University Library.

New York, N. Y. : The Astor Library.

New York, N. Y. : Columbia College Library.

Palo Alto, Cal. : Leland Stanford Jr. University Library.

Philadelphia, Pa.: University of Pennsylvania Library.

Princeton, N. J.: Princeton College Library.

Wake Forest, N. C. : Wake Forest College Library.

Washington, D. C. : Library of Supreme Council of 88d Degree. [48S

Third Street, N. W.] Waterville, Maine : Colby University Library. Wellesley, Mass. : Wellesley College Reading Room Library.

PB0CEEDING8 FOR 1892. Ixxix

ROLL OF MEMBERS DECEASED.

T.Whitino Bakcboft, Brown Uniyersitj, ProTidence, B. I.

WiLUAM Cook, Haryard UiuTenitj, Cambridge, Man.

L. Habkl, Norwich University, Northfield, Vermont

J. Earq^ Princeton College, Princeton, N. J.

J. LifcvT, Lexington, Mass.

JuuBB LoiSEAU, New York, N. Y.

Jaicbb Busbell Lowell, Cambridge, Mass.

Thomas McCabe, Bryn Mawr College, Bryn Mawr, P^

John G. R. MoElboy, UniTersity of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa.

C E. Nelson, Brookville, Md.

W. M. Neyin, Lancaster, Pa.

C P. Otis, Mass. Inst, of Technology, Boston, Mass.

Max Sohbaueb, New York, N. Y.

F. R. Stengel, Columbia College, New York, N. Y.

Miss H^lene Wenckebach, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass.

Casimib Zdanowicz, Vanderbilt University, Nashville, Tenn.

PBOCEEDINGS FOB 1892. Ixxxi

AfnendmeiU adiopted hy the BaXUmore Convention^

necenUkor 30, 1886:

1. The Executive Council shall annually elect from its own body three members who, with the President and Secretary, shall constitute the Executive Committee of the Association.

2. The three members thus elected shall be the Vice- Presidents of the Association.

3. To this Executive Committee shall be submitted, through the secretary, at least one month in advance of meeting, all papers designed for the Association. The said Committee, or a majority thereof, shall have power to accept or reject such papers, and also of the papers thus accepted, to designate such as shall be read in full, and such as shall be read in brief, or by topics, for subsequent publication ; and to prescribe a pro- gramme of proceedings, fixing the time to be allowed for each paper and for its discussion.

«i^ I

TENTH ANNUAL CONVENTION

riF

The Modern Language Association of America,

TO BK HELD IN

COLUMBIAN UNIVERSITY, WASHINGTON, D. C. I>eceiiilN^r 28, 29 and 30, 1892.

.1 I

OFFICERS OF THE ASSOCIATION.

FRANCIS A. MARCH, President, Lafayette College, Easton, Pa.

A. MARSHALL ELLIOTT, Secretary, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md.

JAMES W. BRIGHT, Treasurer, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md.

EXECUTIVE COUNCIL:

The Pkbsiobnt,

The Sbcrbtary, \ Ex-OJS^cio,

The Tkbasurbr.

ALBERT S. COOK, Yale University, New Haven, Conn.

HERMANN COLLITZ. Bryn Mawr College, Pennsylvania.

H. C. G. VON JAGEMANN, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass.

HENRY E. SHEPHERD, College of Charleston, S.C. J. B. HENNEMAN, Hampden Sidney College, Va. MORGAN CALLAWAY, JR., University of Texas, Austin.

HENRY A. TODD, Leland Sunford Jr. University, Cal. EDW. L. WALTER, Univ. of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. F. M. WARREN, Adclbcrt College, Cleveland, Ohio,

PHONETIC SECTION : PEDAGOGICAL SECTION:

President, A. MELVILLE BELL. President^ E. S. JOYNES.

Washington, D. C. South Carolina College.

Secretary, C. H. GRANDGENT, Secretary, A. N. VAN DAELL,

Cambridge, Mass. Mass. Inst, of Technology.

EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE: EDITORIAL COMMITTEE:

H. C. (i. VON JAGEMANN. First Vice-President. JAMES M. HART, Cornell Univ., Ithaca, N.V.

A LBRRT S. COOK, Second I ice-President. EDWARD S. SHELDON, Harvard University!

F. M WARREN, Third Vice-Presidi'vt, Cambridge, Mass.

Programme.

FIRST SESSION.* December 28 (Wednesday).

lOa. m.

a. Reading of the Secretary's and Treasurer's Reports. h. Appointment of Committees. c, Reading of Papers. •

1. " Did King Alfred translate the ' Historia Ecclesiasiica ' ? "

Professor J. W. Pearce, Tulane University of La.

2. " The Sources of UdalPs * Roisterdoister.' "

Professor Geo. Hempl, University of Michigan,

SECOND SESSION.

3 p. m.

1. '*The Absolute Participle in Middle and Modern English."

Professor C. H. Ross, Agricul. and Mechan. College, Ala,

2. " The Legend of the Holy Grail."

Professor Geo. M. Harper, Princeton College ^ N. f.

3. '* The Gardner's Daughter; or the Pictures."

Professor John Phelps Fruit, Bethel College^ Ay.

THIRD SESSION.

8 p* nfia

Address by Francis A. March, LL. D., President of the Asso- ciation on " Recollections of Language Teaching."

FOURTH SESSION, December 29 (Thursday).

10 a. m.

1. " A Grouping of Figures of Speech, based upon the Principle of

their Effectiveness." Professor Herbert E. Greene, Udells College, N. Y,

2. *' Guernsey : its People and Dialect."

Dr. Edw. S. Lewis, Princeton College, N. f.

3. "The Burlesque Ballad in Germany."

Dr. C. VON Klenze, Cornell University.

*The attendance of ladies at the Sessions of the Convention will be expected and welcomed. The Annual Meeting of the AuerlCftD DUlCCt Society for 189a will be held at Columbian University on Thursday, December 39, at 1 p. m.

y

FIFTH SESSION. 4 p. m.

1. " Manuscript 24310 and other MSS. in the Paris National Librar>.

which contain French Metrical Versions of the Fables of Walter of England." Professor T. Logie, Williams College, Mass.

2. " Erasmus' Works, especially the * Encomium Moriae ' and tht

•Colloquies,' as Sources of Rabelais' political, religious and literary Satire." Dr. Hermann Schonfeld./cjAiw Hopkins University, Md.

The President of the Phonetic Section, Professor A. Melville Bell (1525 Thirty-fifth Street), will give a reception to the members of the Convention- Thursday, December 29th, from 8-1 1 p. m.

SIXTH SESSION. December 30 (Friday).

I lOa. m.

3 Pa ITIa

"The Tales of Uncle Remus traced to the Old World." Professor A. Gerber, Earlham College^ Ind.

"The Historical Study of English in Virginia."

Professor J. B. Henneman, Hampden- Sidney College, Va.

"Lessing's Religious Development with Special Reference to his 'Nathan The Wise.'" Professor Sylvester Primer, University of Texas.

SEVENTH SESSION.

a. Reports of Committees and other Business. 6. Reading of Papers.

1. "A Study of the Middle English Poem. "The Pystal of Susan " :

its MSS., Dialect, Authorship and Style; introductory to a Collated Text and Glossary." Dr. Thos. p. Harrison, Johns Hopkins University, Md.

2. •* Irregular Forms of Possessive Pronouns in Italian."

Mr. L. Emil MENGER,y«;////.y Hopkins UniiK, Balto., Md.

3. "J. G. Schottel's Influence on the Development of the Modern

German Schriftsprachc ."' Professor H. C. G. von Jage.mann, Harvard Univ., Mass.

Paper presented for publieation :

" An Italian Metrical Version of the Knight of the Swan." Dr. A. G. Kruger, Bockenheivi {Cermany).

LOCAL ARRANGEMENTS.

The place of general rendezvous for delegates to the Convention will be the Ebbitt House, Fourteenth and F Streets, N. \V., where rates for board and room will be $2.50 per day.

Application has been made to the Soutl.ern Passenger, Trunk Line and Central Traffic Associations for special reduced rates. All delegates should procure certificates at the time of purchasing their tickets^ and they will be entitled to the benefit of any favors which these associations may grant, prior to the adjournment of the Convention.

LOCAL COMMITTEE.

The following gentlemen have kindly consented to serve as a Local Com mittee, and will be glad to show the delegates any courtesies in their power :

J. H. Gore, Chairman ^ L. D. Lodge, H. Schonfeld, E. A. Fay.

SYLLABUS OF PAPERS.

Fruit, John Phelps : Because a work of Art is an organic whole, unity, harmony, and completeness, are essentials. A sense of the presence of these in a work gives aesthetic pleasure. In order to come at a sense of these essentials in a literary work, the first step is to get a simple apprehen- sion of the work as a whole. This is done by making a concise sketch, like, for instance, the arguments that prefaces a book of * Paradise Lost.' With this as a unit of measure with the sketch twice as long, then three times, and four times, and so on till all parts, and parts of parts, fall into their proper places, and get their proper significance. In this way we get at the outset the purpose for which the work of Art exists, and so enjoy the work- manship that adopts materials to express the purpose. The workmanship pleases. The method exemplified in a study of "The Gardener's Daughter, or the Pictures.'*

Gerber a. : Among the theories proposed to account for the similarity of the folk-lore of different countries, those of migration and of general accidental coincidence are the most prominent. A considerable number of the tales of * Uncle Remus ' bear so close a resemblance to tales found in Africa, or in Europe, that they must have been imported from these countries. This makes it likely that the majority of the rest of the tales in which similarity is noticeable, though less striking, have the same origin. Accordingly the theory of migration ought to be more generally accepted, at least as far as animal tales are concerned.

Greene, Herbert E. : An attempt to determine the essential nature of the more important figures of speech, and to group them according to the principle of their effectiveness. — Notwithstanding the wide degree of sepa- ration between literal and highly figurative language, the passage from literal to figurative language may be almost imperceptible. — Theoretically, allegory is the figure, because it is pure figure ; practically, metaphor is the figure.

Harper. Geo. M. : Recent complication of the subject !)y researches of Nuit and Rhvs. Need of a synthesis embracing latest results. — The Celtic-pagan origin of the young Perceval or Great Fool story proved ; the Grail itself also proved to be a feature of pre-Christian Celtic mythology ; these art the oldest features of the legend.— Their fusion with the Christian tradition of Joseph of Arimathia, which prevailed over them and became the soul of the legend.-— Wolfram von Eschenbach's ' Parzival ' the most complete medieval form of the legend. Vindication of his claim to have for an authority Kiot of Provins.— History of the Grail idea in Tennyson and Wagner.

Harrison, Thos. P.: i. MSS. and date of the poem. — 2. contents and sources.— 3. Authorship: " Huchown of the Awle Ryale." — 4- Other poems which have been attributed to the same author. — 5. The Dialect. — 6. Fomi and stvle.

Hempl, George : Udall's borrowing from Terence and Plant us is definite and direct, and his indebtedness to the former is as considerable as it is to the latter.

HENNE.MAN, J. B. *. I. The Pioneers in Virginia and in America.

A. Thomas Jefferson.

Prof. Adams on Jefferson's historical interest. Jefferson's proposal to introduce the study of Anglo-Saxon in William and Mary College in 1779. His letter on Anglo-Saxon in reply to Herbert Croft of London, in 1798. Nature of Croft's essay (1797). Jefferson incited to the study of Anglo- Saxon, as a law student, by F^ortescue Aland's preface to Fortescue on 'Monarchies.' Influence of Elstob's Grammar, etc., etc. Jefferson's "Essay towards facilitating instruction in the Anglo-Saxon and Modern Dialects of the English Language." His argument a phase in a new * Battle of the Books.' Henshall's plea (1798) compared. Effect of Jefferson's monograph at the University of Virginia (1825). Professors George Blaetter- man, Charles Kraitsir, Scheie De Vere.

B. Louis F. Klipstein.

Not a German as stated in Wiilker's 'Grundriss,* but a Virginian and graduate of Hampden-Sidney College. A student of theology and a preacher in the Presbyterian Church in Virginia. Withdrew from the ministry, studied abroad, and taught in South Carolina. Editor of the Poly- glott, one of two ghilological journals undertaken in Charleston in the forties. Author of a series of works on Anglo-Saxon published by Putnam. Their scope, value, and relation to Thorpe and contemporary English efforts.

II. Sketch of the Historical Study of English in the Virginian colleges and universities.

The college before i860. Sundry essays in the Southern Literary Messen- ger. Establishment of a separate department of English, combined with systematic instruction in Old-English, at Randolph-Macon in 1869 under Thomas R. Price ; at Washington and Lee in 1876 under James A. Harrison; at the University of Virginia in 1882 under James M. Garnett. Other insti- tutions : Richmond College, Hampden-Sidney, William and Mary, Roanoke. etc.

III. Bibliography.

VON Klenze, C. : i. Introduction: the Burlesque Ballad of the last century in Germany an exponent of the artificiality pervading German literature during the first half of the eighteenth centurj'. Burger's "Lenore" a strong expres- sion of the great protest against* that artificiality. — 2. The Burlesque Ballad a parody on the Volkslied. The Volkslied ; Characteristic elements. Its decline. — 3. Romance origin of the Burlesque Ballad. It is the product of a civilization that despises the lower classes and popular poetry. The Bur- lesque Ballad in Spain and France. — 4. Gleim imports the Burlesque ballad into Germany about 1750. His followers Sources, meter, tecnique of German Burlesque Ballad. The German travesties of Classic epics. — 5. Herder's studies in folk-lore. Burger's "Lenore." Burger an exponent of the old spirit found in the Volkslied.

Lewis, Edw. S. : General appearance of the island. — Climate and products. — History. — Character and customs of inhabitants. — Dialect : Relation to French ; relation to English ; peculiar characteristics.

LOGiE, Thomas : Wide and continuous interest in fables from time of collection of Phaedrus.— Interest in tracing the relationship of different collections begins in the present century. Works of Robert, Oesterley, Du M^nil, Mall, Hervieux, Jacobs. — Latin collections made in England. — French versions made from these ; description of M.SS. in Paris National Library containing French metrical versions from Latin of Walter of England. — Relation of four MSS. Value of MS. 24310 and notes on it.

Menger, L. Emil: A portion of an extended study in the historical develop- ment of plural forms of possessive pronouns ; the present article referring especially to the irregular two-gender plurals fnia^ tua^ sua. 1. A collection of all irregular usages occurring in Tuscan authors from Guittone d'Arezzo (1250) to Tasso (1595). — 2. A division of irregularities in the singular and plural, showing that those of the former have no explanation in common with that for mia, fua, sua. — 3. Previous explanations attempted : a. pho- netical reductions ; b. position in sentence ; c. mixture with regular forms, — all unsatisfactory. — 4. They are remnants of the Latin Neuter. — 5. Time of appearance and extent of usage in literary Italian.

Pearce, J. W. : 1. Introduction: i. Alfred and his cares of government; 2. His own account (in the translation of the * Cura *) of his literary labors ; 3. Dissimilarities of the various translations ascribed to him ; 4. Miller's de- ductions from dialectal differences in the OE. Bede. II. Peculiarities of translation in the * Historia Ecclesiastica ' :

A. I. Great freedom of rendering in some places and extreme literal- ness in others ; 2. The PrcpfatiOy Wheloc's translations of it, and Wiilcker's error ; 3. the Capitula,

B. Consideration of special points: i. Translation of dignus\ 2. of prcresse ; 3. of octo ; 4. of novcm ; 5. Treatment of the present tense ; 6. Omission of dates.

III. Can the work of the several translators be definitely indicated ?

Primer, Sylvester: I. Discussions of Lessing's Theological Writings, and Religious Controversies: i. The Vindications of Cardanus. — 2. The Anti- Gocze Papers. — 3. The Education of the Human Race : a. Education and Revelation; b. Stages of Education and Progress; c. True Tolerance. — 4- Dialogue of Freemasons. — 5. a. The Parable of the Three Kings before Lessing ; b. Lessing's Adaptation of the Parable.

If. The Characters and Drama ; discussing the Question whether Lessing has reached in his Drama the High Ideal established in his Theological Writings.

^oss, Charles H. : I. Introduction. Definition of absolute participle. Callaway's monograph on the Anglo-Saxon construction, n. Historical Development in Middle English. — i. 1 150-1350. Con- struction practically non-existent. A survival of the Anglo-Saxon dative absolute, or imitation of the Latin ablative absolute. — 2. 1350- 150 J. French influence causes some increase in construction still foreign to the language.

III. Influence of Old French and Italian on the Middle English Con- struction.—!. Old French. No influence before 1350. After that the influence not great. Gives the language a number of prepositions. — 2. Italian. No appreciable influence on any writer except Chaucer.

IV. Historical Development in Modern English. — i. 1500-1660. Con- struction rare in simple and idiomatic prose» but very common in classical and involved styles. Revival of Learning causes this in- crease.— 2. 1660-1892. Construction naturalized under influence of Restoration. Its sphere narrowed largely to domain of narration and description.

V. The Absolute Case in Middle and Modern English. — r. The case changed its form from dative to nominative in Middle English, beginning before end of thirteenth century; Anally effected by second (piarier of fifteenth century. — 2. The reason of this change is the heterogeneous character of language in early Middle English. — 3. The so-called nominative absolute " a dative absolute in disguise." Both by history and logic an oblique case. VI. Stylistic Effect in Middle and Modern English. — i. Middle English. As in Anglo-Saxon. Construction scarcely felt. — 2. Modern English. Important element in style, and gives life, variety, and compactness to the sentence. VII. Summary.

icHONFKi.i), Hkrkman: Krasuius as source of Rabelais: Investigation of great importance ; Rabelais influenced and moulded a good part of the world's literature : Molic^re, La Fontaine, Le Sage, Paul Louis Courrier; — Johann Fischari, Hippel, Jean Paul, Goethe (** Reise der Sohne des Mega- prason "); — Jonathan .Swift, Sterne, .Southey, Coleridge ; Cervantes.Quevedo. Rabelais' entire vsork pervaded by rfil.smian spirit: A (a posUriofi evi- dence).— a. Rab. studied Erasnuis' works from early youth ; read in Cloister Fontenay-le-Comte at risk of his life ; b. Letter of Rab. to Erasmus, dated Nov. 30th, 1532 : indebtedness to Eras. ; c. Like causes produced like effects in lives of both : clerical education enj:endered anticlerical tendencies, flight from cloister, papal indulgences; d. both made same enemies: Catholics on one hand, Luther and Calvin on other; yet did not leave Catholic Church ; e. Works of both secretly published with' forged interpolations, in order to convict of heresy. H (a priori evidence): Thought and form ana- logous in writings of both ; both humanists, .struggle against "Dunkelman- ner" with same weapons. — Analogy of systems of education; Satirical writings of both deal with— a. kings and nobles (state officials) ; b. Popes and prelates ; c. cloisters and scholastic schools ; d. clerical and scholastic teachers; e. church institutions (not resting on Scriptural authority); f. judges, physicians.

J!

T THINQB, BUT MEN,

OF THE WORLD'S COLUMBIAN EXPOSITION

DEPARTMENT OF LITERATURE.

GENERAL DIVISION OK PHILOLOGY.

PROGRAMME OF A CONGRESS OF PHILOLOGISTS.

Inoliidini; the regular aaniial meeting uf the American Philological Associalion, «nd special meetings at the Modern Ijaneuage Aaeociation of America anil the American Dialect Society; to lie held in the Art Institute, Michigan Avenue and Adams St., Chicago, July 11-15, 1803, unUer the auspices of the World's

Congress Auxiliary,

CoMMITVECa OF ABSANaEMBNTS.

WiLUAy Morton Pavne. Chairman, 1601 Pmirio Avenue, Chicago.

Daniel Bonbriobt, Wh. Oardnkb Hale, Jamkx T, Hatfield,

CommilUe on PhUotogy of the World'* Congreas Auxiliary.

Mas. KuzABETH A. ItREO, Clioirnum.

Miss Mabv K. Bubt. 'Miss Mabt ViuniiAN,

Commillee of the Woman'" Bratuih of the World's Conyreat Auxiliary.

PBEUMINARY PROGRAMME.

An asterisk before title inOicMtes that the Huthor of the pa[)er is not expected to be present.

TUESDAY. JULY 11,9:30 A. M.

HALL — .

♦1. Social Status of W^oman in Ancient E^ypt.

Mrs. Helen Mary Tirard, London, England. ♦2. Position of Woman in Ancient Greece and Rome,

Dr. James Grant Bey, Cairo, Egypt. 8. Domestic Life of the Early Egyptians,

Miss Georgia Louise Leonard, Washington, D. C.

There will lie no other session at this hour.

TUESDAY, JULY 11, 8 P. M.

HALL — .

AMERICAN PHILOLOGICAL ASSOCIATION.

1. Critical Notes on Sophocles,

Dr. Mortimer Lamson Earlk, Bamnrd College, New York, N. Y.

2. An Attempt to Throw Light on Certain Uses of the Latin Perfect Subjunctive,

Professor H. C. Elmer, Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y.

3. On the Meaning of the Word Saiura^ and its Interpretations in Livy VII, 2,

Professor George L. Hendricksen, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis.

4. On Certain Artstotelian Terms in the Criticism of Tragedy,

Professor Horatio M. Reynolds, Yale tJniversity, New Haven, Conn.

5. Note on Plautus, Captivi^ 442 {hunc invenlum inveni).

Profes*5or W. S. Scarborough, Wilberforce University.

hall — .

*1. A Romance of Archa)ology,

Miss Mary Brodrick, College Hall, London, England. *2. Greek Cenimography in relation to Greek Mythology,

Miss Jane Harrison, London, England. *3. Schlicmann's Excavations at Troy,

Mrs. Sophie Schliemann, Athens, Greece.

'<

. r^*

■ •

TUESDAY, JULY 11, 8 F. M.

HALL — .

AMERICAN PHILOIXKJICAL ASSOCIATION.

Democracy and Etlucation — Annual Address by Uie President,

Professor WiLrJAM Oabdnrr IIalk, University of Chicago, Cfoieafpo, l\\. An informal reception will occnpy the remainder of the evening.

There will be no other session at this hour.

WEDNESDAY, JULY 12, 9:30 A. M.

GENERAL SESSION. HALL — .

*1. Canons of Etymological Investigation,

Professor Michel Bb^al, College de France, Paris, France.

2. The Connection between Indian and Greek Philosophy,

Professor Richard Garbe, University of KOnigsberg, Germany.

3. Vedic Studies,

Professor M. Bloomfield, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md.

There will l)e no other session at this hour.

WEDNESDAY, JULY 12, 8 P. M. hall .

AMERICAN PHILOLOGICAL ASSOCIATION.

1. The Language of the Law, - - Mr. H. L. Baker, Detroit, Mich.

2. Report of the Committee on the Reform of English Spelling,

Professor Francis A. March. Lafayette College, East on. Pa.

3. Attratftion in English, - Mr. Charles P. G. Scott, Philadelphia, Pa.

4. The Hebrew Names in the English Bible,

Professor W. 0. Sproull, University of Cincinnati, Cincinnati, Ohio.

HALL

1. The Book of the Dead and Other Religious Literature of the Early Egj'ptians,

Dr. Charles II. S. Davis, Mcriden, Conn. *2. The Civilization of Egypt— Its Place in History,

Mrs. Sara Y. Stevenson, University of Pennsylvania, Pliiladelphia, Pa. *3. The Great Altar at Dagr el Baharee { Thel)es),

Dr. Edouard Naville, Malagny, Switzerland. ( Presenting the hitherto unpublished resiUts of the author's latest excavations.)

3

WEDNESDAY, JULY 12, 8 P. M.

DALL .

♦1. Assyrian Tablet Libraries,

Professor A. II. Sayce, University of Oxford, England. ♦2. Babylonian and Assyrian Archaeology,

Mr. HoRMUzD Kassam, London, England. 8. The Arch»ology of Cyprus (with Lantern Illustrations),

Dr. Max Ohmbpalsch Richtkr, Berlin, Germany. There will be no other session at this hour.

THURSDAY, JULY 13, 9:30 A. M.

HALL .

AMERICAN PHILOLOGICAL ASSOCIATION.

1. Some Suggestions Derived from a Comparison of the Histories of Thucydides

and Procopius, - - - . Dr. W. H. Parks, Denver, Colo.

2. The Ethical and Psychological Implications of the Style of Thucydides,

Professor Paul Shorkv, University of Chiciigo, Chicago, HI.

3. The Remote Deliberative,

Professor William Gardner Hale, University of Chicago, Chicago, HI.

4. On the Origin of the So-calleil Root-determinatives,

Professor M. Bloom field, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md.

5. Indo-European «/o '* sfaiul" in lUlic.

Professor Carl D. Buck, University of Chicago, Chicago, 111.

hall

MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION OF AMERICA.

1. The Language of the Sciences and a Universal Language,

Professor Francis A. March, Lafayette College, Easton, Pa., President of the Association.

2. The Physiological Basis of Phonetic Law and Analogy,

Professor Gustaf E. Karsten, University of Indiana, Bloomington, Ind.

3. German Philology in America,

Professor M. D. Learned, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md.

• »■	^	• fc\ 'L^L-J^^^H
., i	•
1 . .	-A

THURSDAY, JULY 18, 8 P. M.

BILL .

AMERICAX PHILOLOGICAL ASSOCIATION.

Fwdigima in Pliny, -.V. ff. xxxv, 152,

Professor Harold N. Powlbr, University of Texug, Teiu. BCjmolo^c*) Notes, - Professor Bdwik W. Fiv, Univertity of Texas, Texas. Libnttione in the PerioiU of Cicero.

Professor W. B. OwiN, Ufayette College, Boston, P«. On Greek Nouns in — 'c — i^f,

Professor B. I. Wugblbh, Cornell University, Itliaca, N. Y. (a) Plularch »s a Philolopst,

ib) Chrysippus ami Varro as Sources of tlw Dialogna of Tacitus. (c) Swhrtion of Some Problems in the Duiiogu». Professor Alfbkd Qudemah, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Penn.

MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION OF AMERICA.

1. On the Sonrce of the Italian ami English lUioms Meftning " To Take Tine by

the Forelock," with Special Refereni'e to Biijanlo's ''Orlando IiinamorBto," Bk. ii. Cantos 7-9, Professor JonM R. Matzke, f^larnl Stanror<l Junior University, Palo AlUi. Cal.

2. Pedagogical (petitions in Germany,

Professor EHrt HAtisENECtir, Victoria Lyceum, Berlin, Qorraany. S. A Survey of the Teaching of English Literature in America,

Professor Chablbs W. Kent, University of Virginia, Charlottesville, Va. 4. On the Training of College and Universiiy Professors,

Professor A. Rambeau, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Hd.

THURSDAY, JULY 13. 1

1. OKI Teslament History in the Light of Recent Discoveries, Dr. Wm. C. WiNsixiw, Vice-President of Ksypl Explorution Fund, Boston, Mass. •2. Resume of Personal Eiptorations.

Professor W. M. Flindekh Petkie, Lonilon University, Ijondon, England. 8. The Lotus (with Lantern I II nst rations).

Professor Willjam H. Goodvkar, Brooklyn, N. Y. There will be no other session at this hour.

FRIDAY, JULY 14. 9:30 A. M.

GENERAL SESSION.

HALL-

1. (Title of paper to be announced).

Professor Hermann Osthoff, University of Heidelberg, Germany.

2. Unpublished Manuscript Treasures,

Mr. Theo. G. Pincues, British Museum, Ijondon, England.

3. The Scientific Emendation of Classical Texts,

Professor E. A. Sonne nschein, Mason's College, BinninghRm, England.

4. Indogermanische Ablautprobleme,

l^rofessor Wilhelm Streitrero, University of Freiburg, Switzerland.

There will be no other session at this hour.

♦1. ♦3. ♦3.

FRIDAY, JULY 14, 3 P. M.

HALL — .

AMEKTCAN PHILOLOGICAL ASSOCIATION.

Twenty Years' Gleaning in Roman Fields,

Miss Marie Mouneux, Boston, Blass. Comparative Philology,

Professor Helen L. Webster, Wellesley College, Massachusc'tts. History of Christianity in Egypt During the First Century,

Miss Edith Floyer, Cairo, Egypt.

HALL — . AMERICAN DIALECT SOCIETY.

1. The Language Used to Domestic^ Animals.

Professor W. H. Carruth, ITniversity of Kansas, Lawrence, Kan.

2. (a) Loss of i2 in English through Dissimilation. (b) Squint and Squinny,

Professor Georo Hempl, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich.

3. Specimens of an Acadian Dialect Spoken about the North Shore of the Bay of

Chaleur, - Professor J. Gkddes, Jr., Boston University, Boston, Mass.

4. llaf and Jfipf, ... - Mr. C. H. Grandgbnt, Cambridge, Mass.

(5

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SATDRDAY, JULY W, 8 P. M.

•1. Koptip Art Binl Its ReUtion to Early Christiun Orn»meiit,

Professor Oeoiui Ebbrs, Munich, Germany. S. Cleopatra (with Ijaiiteni lllustmtbns),

Ur. Sahubl a. Bihioh, New York. N, Y.

THE GENERAL PROGRAMME

The World's Congresses of 1893.

WOTTHIWQ8. But

WHERE THE BflHREUEl WILL BE HUB.

Tb« foUonlug llxt of tbe sevenl Cungreiues ftnd the dUen on vftilch tlier will be held, cannot Iw well understood without a cleut Idra of tJie places Of nic^tlnE provided. To each week of the World's Con- Krua* spuon a groii|i Of Caagnua hu been aaalgned, bt be held Id poiiriirrenl or iilt«rnate !u-!uilons. Thin eoarae li practicable bei'Suv Hie |ilii''e3 ol niffllniT iirovjded are adequate; and It Is nectisMrT be- cause the niimlxT of <;<)1ik"'-««" to be held la so great.

Thesis <'uiiBres«>s will not lie held In [be ExposlUoD Kroui>diU Jacksuti I'iirk. They will all be held In the permanent Uenuirial An ralaru ol tint Act Ii^tltutc ol Clilcaf(o. whicb li lorated on tbe site at the former iQtiir Ktatc ExiHMltlon RulldlDKonUie lAke Front Itek ol ChluaKoattbc Inu-rwcliiin of Ailaina Street and HIchlEan Avenue. Thtsbulldlni:, siiiiii'tlmi'B called the World's Congreiis Art Palace, tiu been erec)t>d on Ihe piirk nHini-d, witb the consent of Ihe State nf lUI- nalsuud the Cily i>f rhiraii.>. by Ihe Art iDiUtnto Of Chicago with tbe alilof the World's rnliiinl'tnn EipajlUab.

ThoArtlnslltuIr aiilhorltles provided tor this purpose tbe sum of luurhundriHlthousand dollars, and the dlrcctorr of the Expcnliiia added tllcretu tlie sum ol two hundred thousand dollars, upon tbe Hinilltion that the Lulldlng be completed and turnlihcd to the WorWi rjiiiKTcssAuiIllary readytoruse.beforetbellratoIMar, 1893, andbe exclusively used lor World's CoiiKress purposes until the clone of tbe KKiHisltlou sciison. The bulldlns Is now practlcaUj complete, ud will be delivered aconrdlng to the contract.

This World's CuDKrcsa Art Palace contains within the bnlldlic proper, thlrt]'-tbree halls besides sU committee riioms, all of wbkk will bo used for the offices of llie World's Confess AuilUaryandlor whatarvIiTDied the Hperlnl or flectlnnal BhssIouh, and tlie Infbimit Conferences of Hie Cnnjtrciuii^s to be held.

Uetsreen the wlmis of the Art Institute bulldins proper, have been erectnt two large audience rooms, eocli of whlcb will seat atwnt tbne thmuand persons. These large halls will be used for what are tenud tlw llenerol rubllc Hesslims of the various Concresses. It will thiB bepOHilbk lit hold thlrly-slx hiri^ meetings and mora than thne biindrvil S|h-v1:i1 or f<<i'tlon:il Hcetlngs or Conferences during a ilnfle wcik. lia"hol,\i[roupii[slK('oueicsses Inaglveu department, nirh a.i Kii|[lnecrlni;:,or llovcrnmeut, or Uterature, assigned to a alnj^ week, will thus be enabled to hold any convenient number oflsiie inivtloirsniitexceiillnK six, anil any desired number o( sectional •» slons not exceeding nity, wlthnut tnterlerence with each other, n with tlis romni rescrvi-d for thu permanent olflces, reeeptlon rooBi a-iil other uses of the Wurld's Congress Auxiliary.

a

WHEN THE COHeftUSES WILL BE HELD.

t, DE»RTIIEIIT DF WDMAH'I PIIDflRESS.

Oommonafnfl Viwlnu, Motf is, iiw— Tlie (^onaronsps of tliv iwpsrt- meiit of Woman'* Progress, Inoludluit more th»n twutily-HvB Division OonKressvi. bt set Eorth Ibe Prugrtss ot Waman In

S. Industrr.

3. Literature and Art.

i. HoritI aniJ SucJal Relcirm.

5. Plillniitliropj' anil Cliarlty.

8, Civil Law anil Government.

^. RollBlun.

11. DEPARTMENT OF THE PUBLIC PRESS.

Ctrmmcndnif -Wnndnu. MaUK, itij— Tlie CunKriaar*ii( tlu> lJ.-i«irt- ttentofthePutilii! Press.

In this Departiuent Ids lollowtng Sjieclal CongTL'sses Ii«vb in'pn organized :

1. The Genera] Congress of the Public Press.

t The Congress of the RellKious Press,

a. The Congress ol Trade Journals.

III. DEPARTMEHT OF MEDICIHE.

Comtnmctna Monday. May M, j«M -The Congrcwtes ofthe I>ep»rt- ■nent of Medicine, Tlie Congresses to be held during thlsneeklnelnde the fDllawIng, besides ttioso transleired to tbc Ueaeral I>epartinvnt as therein me nUoned:

1. The Congress of Homreopatbte Medictim and SarRBiy.

I. The Consress "I Eclettlo Moiilrine and Siirsery.

3, The CongTBia at Uedloo^CllnuiIolngy.

IV. DEPARTHERT OF TEMPERAHCE.

Commmciaa M'mdoy, June i, ism— The Congresses of the Tieparl- mentotTemiKiniDoe. These Inoludu, among: olhi^r p]Utld|iants. Uie (Otiowing:

I. Tbe National Tcmpe ranee Socletrof A.mer1ea.

1. Tlie Independent Order of Good Templa™,

3. T)ie Sons of Tempemniie ,

4. The Kiyal Templars of Temp.Tanee.

5. The Calhollc Temperanca Sijciellcs.

8. TheWoman'sChrisUan Temiierance linion.

7. The Non-Partlsan Woman's ClirlBtlanTemiH?rance Union. I. The Anieriean MedleM Tempetaneu A^^iMlatiuri.

9. VegeUrlan Bootelies.

10. Social Purity Onmnliatlons. Hoik,- This Congress has been UanEtoned to Jnoe Sd .

latjon

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VIII. DEPARTMENT OF LITERATURE.

Cfimmennino MiAiulav. Jula w. c^J— The CimGresses ol the De- pftrlmeiit ol Liwrotuie. For this lii:iiai'[iii>-nt the lollnwliiK Can- 's been or|;BnIied : .. A Conereas o( Authom, |. A Gongre« ot HUWrlaiK kart Ht^lorlrat SliulfuM.

oIokIsdh.

IX. OEPARTHEIIT BF EDUCATION.

Cumiaencing Afondou, Join n, lUM^TIw CunitrtaaiiS o[ the Ue- pftruniiutol Kdacallon. aa lollows:

i, A Congress ul Collepi and Uoiveraity FaruUlBS, tniiluaiQg

nuivetslty E;ileiislon. Z. A CongreM Of College and Dniverally Students, a. A Congress Of College Fmleraltles.

4. A Congress Ol Public Sutiool A

5. A Congress of Bepreientaitlve Voulh of Piih S. ACongivsson Kiadirgarten BdUL-nClon. 1. A Congress on Munual and Art Training. 8. A Congress on Phyilciil Culture , Tronitcrj-ed h

ZdncMloiml Congress.

al Congress. A Congress o( Sleaiigrupbers . A Congress o( B

rs of the u

1& A Congress on Obautauiiuu 1 It. A Congresa on SocLil SettlemunEs.

IS. AOenerslBdiicaUonalCongres-inn Hlgbei KducUlon, Second- KTJ BducUlun, Eh^iuaotary Education, Kloderijikrteo Instructlan, Sebool Hnperriiion, rroressionul Tiulntn.; ol TencherH, Art Instruc- tion, Instruction In Vocal Music, Techn II loirlivillnst ruction, Industrial And Manual Instruction. Business Kdu>.':itioii. Physical Education, ■docailonol Publications, Rational Piycbulogy In Bducation ftnd Ex- perimental Psycbologf in Education.

XoTRS.— Tlie Special Educational Congresses, so called In contra

dIstlDctloii b.1 the (leDcral Etlucittlonal t'utigreas. will close on Tues

■<H. July S3th. TbetiuuKral Educational Congresa will opt

raoingottbis day, and occupy tbs rHmtlnilnr of the week.

One of the imutler halls of the Art Palaoe will be a.tsigned tor

ll HaadiiuarTers during th '" "' '"'■■ ""■

1, A ConeteiiB an Eletl[l<;lfy. ' , A CoOBrp »» oil Qeolciny. . ACoDgTesaon Indtitii EtIinotuHy.

ACoDgreM 8. ACougressi B, A Congress . A Ooiigreaa

A Congress on ZmSU

MeXeoToJatj.

NorKi.— TlieCoa|CTe*sDD Anthropolog; has been tmu(eiTe<1 Uilli'- lOllowlng ireek. to b« held iu vonnectloD with those of Soclul hji<I KcODomifl Sdeim.

ArraDgemtiats (or other Congiessps anil Conlerenres ol u scientific Uure are in progress hul not ready tnraanouDi'enicnt.

Thesubjectof lieogr»phy basbeeii Iraiisterred to the Depsrtmeat ufBdiicatloD,

XV. DEPARTMENT OF LABOR,

Oomtiteiicino JKondan. Auonnt i^, l*i«— The Cungra«!iea ol tbi: Ue- itorUkbar: tbeCan^resseiof tbe Genorul Division cif ' and Eoonomic Science, tmnilurred Irom tbo Department nt (iovern- J Congress on Anthropobjgy, transforrod Irom the Deputmenc ut Scleura and Philowphy,

The Labor Congress will bu argaalzed with ii|iproprIate Sections tor tha cODsliIerution ot the vailoua branches o[ what Is called the I^trar Questluti, Including the (ollowing: 1. The Condition of L&bor. Z. Workand Wiwes of Women and Children. & Statistics of Lal)ur.

LiteratuTH and Phllosoplir ol i

1 other remedies. Comnxnclno olM on Uoiulau, Augiut 98, inu— Ttie Sodalnnd Economic Science, Including the!.(ollawlnK : 1. A Congress on EooDonle Science.

X. A Congreis on the Seleaoe ol tttatls

3. A Congress On TDXtttlon uid Revenacs. *. A Separate Consress on whalk --"-' 6. A C'Ongren oa ProOI-Sbuing-

& ACongreM on Weights, Heasutss, Coinage aad Postage, "sothef ■— ' ' -

IVI. DEPARTMERT DF REUeiDH.

Cnmmcncltio Mondau, S'ptembrr «, i«33— The Congresses o Department ol Religion. This Depa.rU tiM following order;

Es o( Union Meetlngi in which teprcsentatlve:

religious organUatloDs wlU meet [or the oonslderatlon ol

subjects o( cummou Inteit^st and sy nilnlh;.

Denomlnatlnnul Prewntatlons to the Keliglnus Worbl, as rcp-

- ' 'n tbe Parliament of BellgloDS. ut the faith and dis-

dllgulsbing oharaoterlBtics ol each denomlnatloD, and tbe sik-

' It has rendered to manklml.

II the proeeedlDiES □! it given CoDsress will lie ragulatad by tne proerammB for thatCongress. The prooesdlngs will not be sabiDltted to voUuEthe persona who tnuy liuppen to lie pres- ent ata given seulnn, but will be publlslied for submlsalon to the <lellb« ate judgment ol the enlightened world. Hence, no ennfuslon or other difltcnlty can nrlae from bringing togetlier in the same Ooo- KTCSa, even In large numhers, the various viassua above designated. S. The object at the Congresses Is not to attempt tbe Impossllillltr ol settling anytblng bj debate during the Eiposltlon season, but to elleJt from the leadeia of progress In all eountrics, con- venird In [raternalaasenibly. the wisest and beat tbougbt oI the age on llie living questions of our time, and the means br whieh further progreas may be made Cdntbovshsv Is ex- cluded Irum the World's Congresses ol law. Advoeatea will present their own views, not attack the views of others. •. Participants raoM ForbiqnCountriks.— In forming the prognunmes, places will be reserved m longtt pracllcable for eminent persons of otlier countrlea who may boniir Amerliawlth Utelr attendance and participation. The dllll' cultyof atlendanee from foreign countrlua has always been fully appreciated, anil the authorities would have been glad to do much more than Iheyliave found possible to lighten tlie expense of such atlendaiiee. If but a few Congresses bad been planned. It would have been easy to make provision lor the entertainment of delegates: but with eonsldembly more than one hundred Congresses already arranged, and applloationa for olbers pending, It la ni,anlfestly Impoaslble ta make such

As It lias eome lo the knowledge of the Auxiliary that fears have been entertained that the expense o( transporlatlan (o, and of living InChlcago during the Exposition Season would he greatly increased. It ladeemed proper to state, that from all the Information obtained In re- lation f> that subject. It Is confideatly believed that such expenses will notbe excessive, bnt that persons of moderate means will readily be able to find suitable accommodations. It Is also expected that the t^l- road fares will be reduced, and la regarded as practically certain that tliey will not be increased.

10. The meetings of the Congres.ses are designated not by days but by sessions. Within a single day there may be lliree meet- ings of different Congresses In eneh of the An Taiace halls. For example: A Congress of Astronomers may meet In a given room In the mnrning, a Congress of Chemiila in the same room In the altemoon, and a Congress of Oeologlsts In the name room In the evening. The general hours of meeting wlllhBlOo-clocklntheloreuoou. 'i o'doclc In the ottemoon and So'cloekin the evening.

riymn n Jomr atowmv ^ H

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THE WORLD'S CaiUMBIAN EXPOSITION.

PrcMdmit. Hablow N. Hi

Feed. W. Peck.

D O. Em Trfami'-er, AirraoNY F. BEEBEBOBit. AudiloT, W. K. A Attorofti. W. K. Cablislb.

THE WORLD'S COLUMBIAN OOMMISaiDH.

Prettdciil, Thomas W. P-*i

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