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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. 

2 


ZX  MODEBN  LANOUAQE  ASSOCIATION. 

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 


PBOCEEDINGS  FOB   1892.  Xxi 

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. 


•  • 


ZZll  MODERN  LANGUAGE  ASSOCIATION. 

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 


PBOCEEDiKGS  FOB  1892.  xxiii 

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. 


XXIV  MODERN  LANGUAGE  ASSOCIATION. 

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 


XZVl  MODEBN   LANGUAGE  ASSOCIATION. 

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. 


•  •• 


ZZVlll  MODERN   LANGUAGE  ASSOCIATION. 

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." 


PROCEEDINGS  FOB   1892.  Xxix 

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- 


XXX  MODERN  LANGUAGE  ASSOCIATION. 

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 


.« 


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 


^ 


■I'IiTIMOkh 

18»» 


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 

l»l>S 


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 


PrcMent.  Mb» 

Pl>TTEIt   PaLMEH. 

Vlce-Prmid/iitt. 

HM 

Balfb  Tb  alt  ham. 

Mem    Edwik  V.  Bdklei 

Bu 

CHABI.KII   PmCE, 

Mi™  Katbebise  L.  Mi 

Mbs.  Husak  K.  A«nLGt 

Mbs 

Floba   nEALl.  (JlSTI, 

Uaa,  RttBSK..i.  B.  Habb 

Mtw.  Maboabet 

Blaink  Balisbdhy. 

Sr<Tctani.  Mh!*-  S 

usAN  Gale  Cookb. 

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^^b     Tiir,  MODERN  LAM;iu(iK  mmm  iif  amf.rk: 

^^^^H                         OFFICERS  FOW  TME  YCTR  1893. 

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