SANTA BARBARA STATE COLLEGE LIBRAR Y -^ f m EWALD FlUGEL LELAND STANFORD JUNIOR UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS UNIVERSITY SERIES FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME CONTAINING AN UNPUBLISHED PAPER BY PROFESSOR EWALD FLUGEL, AND CONTRIBUTIONS IN HIS MEMORY BY HIS COLLEAGUES AND STUDENTS (WITH PORTRAIT) STANFORD UNIVERSITY, CALIFORNIA PUBLISHED BY THE UNIVERSITY I916 Stanford University Press o PREFACE THIS Memorial Volume, consisting of articles contributed by his colleagues of the Philological Departments, has been prepared and pubUshed in honor of Ewald Flugel, late Professor of English Philology in Stanford University, in accordance with a resolution adopted by the University Philological Association December lo, 1914. Editorial Committee: H. RusHTON Fairclough, Chairman, Karl G. Rendtorff, William Dinsmore Briggs. SA'NTA A. V.' -o -o v"A STATE . COLLEGE LISRARY ^(^/^^ TABLE OF CONTENTS Portrait Frontispiece PAGE Preface 3 Outline of Ewald Flugel's Life 7 The History of English Philology 8 Ewald Flugel Dr. Flugel as a Scholar 36 William Dinsmore Briggs Bibliography 49 The "Comedia que Trata del Rescate del Alma" and the "Gayferos" Ballads 52 Clifford Gilmore Allen "Cynthia's Revels" and Seneca 59 William Dinsmore Briggs Bryant's "A Presentiment" and Goethe's "Der Erlkonig" ... 72 William Herbert Carruth On Shakespeare's "Julius Caesar" 76 William Chislett, Jr. Literary Sources of Goethe's ''Urtasso" 79 William A. Cooper The Use of Stare in Horace Satires I, 9, 39 and Juvenal I, 149 Jefferson Elmore table of contents 5 Traditional Ballads from Andalucia 93 AuRELio Macedonio Espinosa The Meaning of Caelum in the Sixth Book of the "Aeneid" io8 Henry Rushton Fairclough The Authorship of "Titus Andronicus" 114 Henry David Gray The Hittite Text on the Tarcondemus Boss 127 George Hempl A New Emotional Effect in Tragedy 166 Frank E. Hill The Main Source of Speech-Sounds and the Main Channels OF their Spread ^79 Hermann Hilmer Notes on "Floire et Blancheflor" ^93 Oliver Martin Johnston French Culture and Early Middle English Forms of Address 200 Arthur G. Kennedy The Life of Theocritus 2°^ Augustus Taber Murray The Decay of German Literature in the Thirteenth Century 220 Karl G. Rendtorff Puns in Chaucer John S. P. Tatlock EWALD FLUGEL was born in Leipzig, August 4, 1863. On his father's side he came of a line of dictionary makers; his mother's family had con- tributed rectors to the University of Leipzig. He passed through the Nicolai School, did some work at Freiburg, and obtained his doctorate at Leipzig in 1885. In 1888 he married Helene Burckhardt, and five children, of whom four are now living, were born of this marriage. Dr. Fliigel was for some years associated with his father in representing the Smithsonian Institution in Germany. From 1888 to 1892 he was privatdocent at Leipzig, and in 1892 became professor of English Philology at Leland Stanford Junior University. In 1896 he lectured at the summer session of the University of Chicago. From 1901 to 1902 he was President of the Pacific Coast Branch of the American Philological Association; and in 1909 he represented Stanford University at the celebration of the five-hundredth anniversary of the foundation of the Uni- versity of Leipzig. A list of his writings and an account of his scholarly activities will be found elsewhere in this volume. He died in Palo Alto, November 14, 1914. THE ADDRESS which Dr. Fliigel made in 1902 as President of the Pacific Coast Branch of the American Philological Association was not published, except in the form of an abstract, and the Committee in charge of this volume thought that it was too useful and interesting a survey of the history of Enghsh Philology to be allowed to rest unprinted. Some difficulty was experienced in preparing it for the press, and a brief statement of the method adopted seems necessary. Apparently Dr. Fliigel had intended eventually to publish it, for he had revised the first few pages and supplied them with full illus- tration. The remainder of the manuscript contained a very large number of marginal annotations as hints later to be worked out more elaborately; many of these were intelligible only to Dr. Fliigel himself, and a few could not be deciphered. Practically all of them have been omitted. Everything, however, that could properly be regarded as correction of the text has been incorporated into it. In a number of cases incomplete sentences have been filled out, and occasionally slight changes of wording were made for the sake of clearness of statement, but real ambiguities have been allowed to stand, and scrupulous care was exercised to avoid changes in meaning. Punctuation and capitalization have been normal- ized and the liberty has been taken of correcting dates whenever the mis- take was obviously due to hasty writing or to an oversight. Those who undertook this task were not unaware of the grave responsibility they were thus assuming, in view of the state of the manuscript, and they ask scholars to believe that the work could not well have been done otherwise, if it was to be done at all. They ask further that the somewhat informal character of the address be borne in mind by readers, and that it be not looked on in its present shape as though it were something that had satis- fied Dr. Fliigel's own instinct of workmanship. What great changes and additions he would himself have made before pubUcation may be conjec- tured, from a comparison of the first three pages with those that follow.^ ^ It may also be noted that Dr. Fliigel had indicated in the margin of his manuscript certain names omitted from the first draft of his address, which he evidently intended to add and discuss in connection with the appropriate topics. These include Bradley (for the Oxford Dictionary), Henry Bradshaw, Blades (Life of Caxton), Boas (edition of Kyd), Herford, Symonds, Sedgwick (Boethius), Courthope, Schelling (Elizabethan Drama), Pogatscher, Schick (Lydgate), Schipper (Dunbar), Creizenach, Holthausen, and Brandl. THE HISTORY OF ENGLISH PHILOLOGY EWALD FlUGEL THE ORIGIN of English Philology is to be sought for in the time of the Reformation; in that age which gave birth to the modern critical spirit, in that age in which for the first time after centuries of passive obedience the mind of man dared to seek the truth unhampered by ecclesiastical injunctions and prohibitions. The religious emancipa- tion of the sixteenth century is the cradle of the new world of thought, and the cradle of the Historical Sciences as Sciences. I can dismiss with a few words the earlier history of English Phil- ology before the Reformation. Mediaeval England was less fortunate than Italy: there was no Dante who regarded, first among the moderns, the study of the mother- tongue a worthy object of observation, of research. Orrm's orthographical system might be mentioned, and the few allusions to the English language from the twelfth to the fifteenth cen- tury. These show us no more than that certain dialectical differences be- tween the North and the South were noticed as early as William of Malmesbury- and Roger Bacon, ^ that the native poetry appeared 'pom- pous' to the same William,* that the 'scheme' of 'annomination' was noticed by Giraldus Cambrensis,^ that the struggle between the EngUsh and the French languages on English soil was critically and sorrowfully watched by patriots like Robert of Gloucester, and more fully recognized and commented upon by Higden and Trevisa. Other allusions show us that a 'Saxon' version of the Bible, attri- buted to Bede, was known to Wycliffe,® that Chaucer, such a fine linguist and careful observer of things and men, who recognized Italian as 'a ' Gesta Pontif. Angl., Lib. iii, ed. Hamilton, 1870, 209. '' Comp. Stud. 467 : modi et proprietates loquendi ut in Anglia apud Boreales, et Australes, et Orientales et Occidentales. B. has more to tell of the French lan- guage, ib. 438, 483 (515), etc.; cf. E. Fliigel, R. Bacon's Stellung in der Geschichte der Philologie, Wundt Festschrift, 1902. * Gesta Reg. Angl., Lib. i, §31, ed. Hardy 1840; I, 44. * Descr. Cambr. * Bede translatide the bible and expounide myche in Saxon, that was English or comoun langage of this lond in his tyme, Prol. in Forshall & Madden's ed. 1850; I, 59. 10 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME maner Latyn corrupt,' ^ who speaks of the fashionable charms of lisping before Hamlet,* that Chaucer recognized the 'grete diversitee in Englishe and in writyng of our tongue,' ^ translates Horace's famous passage on the words like leaves, and chronicles sorrowfully the 'scarcite' of rimes in English — when he had to translate Oton de Granson.^" It is towards the end of the fifteenth century that we find an editor engaged in carefully comparing English manuscripts for what we might call the first critical edition of a native author: this is Caxton, and the edition is the second one of the Canterbury Tales, in which he "endevoyred to correct the text that it bee made according unto his owen making, for to satisfy the auctour." It was the love of Chaucer, then, which produced the first English textual critic, and this fact is important for the , following centuries. It is Chaucer's text, and the endeavor to keep it intelligible and accessible, which ultimately leads to a revival of Middle English studies. When we approach the sixteenth century we find the interest in the study of English language and literature alive and active in a number of different fields. First of all, it is the antiquarian, patriotic, and historical interest in English antiquities which inspires John Leland to collect materials for a chronological work on English writers." Leland's work on these was to be only one part of a greater work on English antiquities, geographical and historical ; it was never finished, and his 'supellex Ingens, aurea, nobilis, venusta Qua totus studeo Britanniarum Vero reddere gloriam nitori' — ^^ ' MoL. V. 519 (cf. 731) ; cf. Wycl., loc. cit. : the comoun peeple of Italic spekith Latyn corrupt, as trewe men seyn, that have ben in Italie. ' Cf. Anglia, N. R, XII, 471. *Troil. 5, 1793; the charming transformation of Horace's words, ib. 2, 21, do not apply to our point. " Compl. Venus, 80 ; the other references to 'his' English scarcely apply : MoL, Pro!. 49; Duch. 898. "The four books into which he intended to divide the work were to cover the periods : I, from the Druids to the Coming of Augustine ; II, from Augustine to the Normans ; III, from the Normans to Henry VII ; IV, the time of Henry VIII ; cf. The Laboryouse Journey in Fliigel's Lesebuch I, 278-9. The materials for his Commentarii de Scriptoribus Britannicis, as they were edited by Ant. Hall, Oxford, 1709, come to an end with the fifteenth century. The Chaucer note transl. by Lounsbury, I, 133 ff. "Ad Thomam Cranmerum, in Principum, &c., Encomia, ed. 1589, p. 90 (Collectanea 5, 149; Fliigel's Lesebuch I, 514). HISTORY OF ENGLISH PHILOLOGY FLUGEL II of which he sings so charmingly, proudly, and sadly, fell after his tragic end into the hands of more or less scrupulous executors, later into the possession of moth and mould, and was not made accessible before the beginning of the eighteenth century." It would be unjust to severely criticise these collections, which as they are seem a rather large but uncritical accumulation of facts and fiction, — the raw material from which the critical hand would have select- ed the valuable from the slight. Bale utilized Leland's collections for his great storehouse, the 'Cata- logus/^^ and seasoned, in the printed editions, his numberless biographies with the bitter salt of protestant bigotry. His biographies and bibliographies represent the crude beginning of English literary his- tory; they are chronologically arranged, and become valuable when he reaches the period of the Reformation. There is no connection given between the writers, no literary movements traced, any more than in Holinshed's work, who is his follower and might be called the first liter- ary historian in the vernacular.^°~^^ With Leland might be grouped those earlier patriotic printers of Chaucer and Gower, Thynne, Berthelot, and Tooke, to whom the old 'vulgar' became the object of interest and quite careful study; they tried to explain the forgotten 'idioms' and to re-establish the metre, generally by some easy trick of a verbal change. Another source of interest in the literary treasures of the past was "On the sad history of the Leland MSS. cf. the Lives of John Leland, The. Hearne, and A. a Wood (by Warton and Huddesford), Oxford, 1772; I, 50 flF. " Ed. 1548, in 4", has the title : Illustrivm | Maioris Britanniae | Scriptorvm . . . Summarium; the second edition, in folio, published in 1557: Scriptorvm II | lustriu maioris Brytannie, quam | nunc Angliam & Scotiam uocant: Ca| talogus, &c [Basileae, Apud loannem Oporinum, containing Centuriae I to IX; Centuriae X to XIV appeared ib. I559]- "H., ed. 1586, gives these brief literary accounts of "learned men," "writers" (3, 541; 710) at the end of the different reigns; he 'knits up,' to use the phrase from p. 1589, "the seuerall reigne of euerie seuerall King with a generalitie of the seuerall writers in that princes reign"; he begins with Stephen, 3, 64, and quotes the names generally from Bale, occasionally from Leland; cf. 116; 156; 196; 276; 317; 342; 413; 508; 541 (on Chaucer, from Bale and Leland); 584; 662; 710; 761; 797; 977; 1087; 1168; for Elizabeth's reign, Fr. Thynne, unfortunately, does not give the usual list, but a 'Catalog of all such as haue purposelie in seuerall histories of this realme . . . written of England and English Matter,' p. 1589 (cf. Thynne's Animaduersions, ed. Furnivall, Ixxxix) ; Edmund Molineux con- tributed the interesting account of the Sidneys, containing the earliest allusion to the Arcadia, immediately after Sir Philip's death, fol. 1554. "The revised portion of Dr. Fliigel's MS. ends at this point. 12 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME the theological one, an interest to which we owe the first revival of Anglo- Saxon studies. The fact that their Anglo-Saxon forefathers had pos- sessed the Bible in their own language, known to Wycliff, became again a leading argument of the early reformers, such as Tyndal and Cranmer ; Langland's poem was re-edited in 1550 for theological party-purposes, and Chaucer himself became a model protestant under the treatment of Foxe the martyrologist, "a man who had seen into religion." Anglo-Saxon Christianity became an object of interest, — not only its Bible but its dogmatical attitude towards the Eucharist, towards the mar- riage of priests, etc. The Pre-Augustinian Church seemed to lead the way in its hostility to Augustine's Roman doctrines ; Archbishop Parker, 1504-75, became the center of Anglo-Saxon studies, and kept in his own house "of them which do well understand Anglo-Saxon books" (1566) ; his son learned Anglo-Saxon; Joscelyn, his secretary from 1558 on, com- piled, as Noel did likewise in 1567, an Anglo-Saxon dictionary ; he quoted Anglo-Saxon in 1562; and others edited the earliest work printed in Anglo-Saxon letters (Aelfric's Easter Sermon, 1566), followed by the most pretentious Anglo-Saxon publication of the sixteenth century, the Gospels, edited by John Fox, 1571. The antiquarian names of these early Anglo-Saxon scholars and their work have to us an almost romantic charm, and we shouldn't like to hunt for the lower motives of them : for instance, Lawrence Nowel, and Lam- barde, the editor of the Laws in 1568. The continent of Europe did very little during the sixteenth century that might figure in a history of the English language. The conversa- tion books do not belong here; they were translated from continental sources by Englishmen, and their object was the teaching of French. Gesner the Polyhistor mentions in his Mithridates, 1555, the cor- ruption of the English language through foreign words; he gives even samples of Anglo-Saxon words from a MS. of Bede, words which were omitted from the older editions of Bede's works after 1473. He pre- cedes in this respect the first reproduction in type of Anglo-Saxon words in England, but apart from this slight honor, his remarks on the EngHsh language are of no original value. The English protestant refugees, scattered all over Germany during the Marian persecutions, had appar- ently introduced their German friends to a question which was then deeply agitating the hearts of the English patriots: the question of the admixture of foreign words with the native stock. This popular, patriotic question produced one interesting philological result : it led to the historical study of the origin and development of the HISTORY OF ENGLISH PHILOLOGY FLUGEL 13 English tongue as we have it in W, Harrison's chapter on the language of England, 1586, G. Puttenham's Books of the Originals of the English Tongue, before 1589, Camden's Remains, 1605, and Verstegan's Restitution. Of equal interest with these first attempts at 'Histories of the Lan- guage' is the first detailed critical review of an English book (unique in its kind), Thynne's animadversions, 1599, on Speght's edition of Chaucer, 1598, an edition which did not quite tally with Thynne's ideal of having a Chaucer "with a Comment in his tongue as the Italians have Petrarke," but which is otherwise a good specimen of an early edition. The text is corrupt (as Thynne shows very neatly), although it claims to be col- lated, and the few grammatical explanations are an index of the low ebb of philological studies; but the glossary is very full and intelhgent, and the biography excellent. The whole is charmingly introduced by Francis Beaumont of Godescote, the namesake of the dramatist. A practical result of these Chaucer studies was the resuscitation of the old language as a living literary tongue, as in Spenser's unsuccessful but certainly interesting attempt. The Elizabethan age witnessed, further, the earliest movement for an orthographical reform, headed by Sir Thomas Smith, 1568, by Hart, and BuUokar ; but the English language did not yet become the object of grammatical treatment : word-accent and sentence-accent are spoken of by Bacon, and a philosophical grammar is one of his desiderata, but what he calls the litteraria grammatica has to wait for Gil, 1619, and Ben Jonson (about 1620). Since the eighth century English lexicography had had only one aim —to assist in the understanding of a foreign author; the foreign idiom generally leads, and often the words are arranged in groups of kindred senses. This latter arrangement is discontinued after Withal's Short Dictionary, 1556, and the meager Usts of the Promptorium, the Summa, give place to Elyot's great work in 1538, often edited in the course of the sixteenth century and easily leading such school books as Baret's Aluearie, 1574, and Quadruple, 1581, and Veron's Dictionary, 1575 (ti563). , . French dictionaries follow the Latin ones ; Palsgrave s great word- lists yield a wonderful source of colloquial English of the Early Tudor Age, 1530. Salisbury's Welsh Dictionary appears in 1547, and Thomas's Italian grammar with a dictionary in 1550; later in the century we have Percyvale's Bibliotheca Hispanica, 1591, Florio's World of Wordes, 1599, and Cotgrave's great storehouse of Elizabethan phraseology. But the 14 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME aim of all these dictionaries is to illustrate a foreign idiom, — they are not English dictionaries. In the Elizabethan age we have further to mention some timid be- ginnings of literary criticism, contained in the allusions to the English authors in the writings of 'critics,' the lists of Meres, the epigrammatic characterizations of Daniel, etc. Scotland is not behind : we might men- tion the patriotic outburst of the author of the Complaint of Scotland, Buchanan's De Scriptoribus Scoticis, 1 595-1652, the early reprints of Wallace, 1574, Thomas the Rhymer, 1603, Barbour, 1620, and others. But all these movements of the sixteenth century are the merest rudimentary beginnings, and the seventeenth centur}^ follows like the dawn after the night ; an age comes in which we find the first great names in the Historical Science. It is the age of Selden, 1 584-1654, Spelman, 1564-1641, Somner, 1598-1669, Dugdale, 1605-86, Skinner, 1623-67, Jun- ius, 1589-1677, WalHs, and Hickes. Junius is the best known of these, and indeed the most eminent scholar and man of this little group, his work influencing and inspiring scholars for one hundred and fifty years after his death. His editions of William, Caedmon, Ulphilas, his enormous Glossarium Quinque Lin- guarum in nine volumes, at which he used to work on so many desks to his ninetieth year, are well known; but not sufficiently noticed are his services to Middle English studies, the results of which are partly given in his Etymological Dictionary, and partly still buried in his Chaucer MSS. at Oxford. He is also to be mentioned as the first philological inquirer into the Scottish Dialect. Sir Henry Spelman marks an epoch in Anglo-Saxon antiquarian studies; his Archceologus, 1626, is the first Anglo-Saxon glossary ever published of terms belonging to the legal antiquities, and it is admirable and useful for our own time. With his 'Councils,' commenced when "he was aged and almost blind," he practically inaugurated for England a new historical study. His edition of laws 'from William to Henry IIF has remained the only one to our own time ; his foundation of a "lecture at Cambridge, of domes- tick antiquities touching our church, and reviving the Saxon tongue" (1638), was the first academic recognition of Anglo-Saxon. Stephen Skinner is least appraised and appreciated of all these men ; the history of Germanic philology treats him with utter silence, and when he is mentioned at all, his work is mentioned as the source of Johnson's wrong etymologies and his ghost is still seen in the earlier editions of Webster. HISTORY OF ENGLISH PHILOLOGY FLUGEL I5 He was a physician by his profession, one who did not enjoy the smell of the 'matuls' all the time, and, as he tells us humorously, instead of seeking relaxation in dicing and drinking, he condescended from his medical altitude (descendere dignatus sum) and took to etymologizing. He thinks few things can better prepare a physician for a 'prognosis' than etymology, because there is a peculiar link of affinity between the two, practical medicine not being based on demonstration but on conjecture alone, — and what else is etymology but a heap of splendid conjectures? Utrobique divinamus, etc. With a strange mixture of humor and seri- ousness he describes that queer creature the philologist (criticus), who despises the obvious things (obvia quaeque) et nihil probat nisi in quo ipse desudaverit, who like a mole digs with his snout in the ground, et vocabula multis iam seculis emortua suis sepulcris effodit. These things he uses as his sweetmeats, their rust and mould for frankincense, despis- ing all the spices of India, Musck, Ambra, Benzoin. He would prefer to hear the hoarse talk of the Osci, Volsci, and Sabini to an oration of Cicero in the Senate, and no dinner-party would be more glorious to him than the one exhibiting the Persian of Aristophanes and the Poenus of Plautus. As the juggler throws his balls, so he enjoys throwing about the letters; those which you saw just now — have disappeared, but they reappear multiplied; and those letters which you thought you could lay your fingers on, are gone, and others substituted so quickly that your eyes cannot follow him. As the sailor can steer his ship as long as there is any wind blowing at all, so will our illustrious sophist arrive at some ety- mology as long as he can get the support of any one of the decern ele- menta, while all the others are transformed by a more than Circean skill and drawn into his service by hook and by crook (per fas nefas). And as soon as the rain has produced a pool on the dust, the summer sun will produce in it the croaking frogs. Is he not a most skilful artifex who can carve a Mercury out of any wood? His sense of humor is exempli- fied by his motto from Quintilian, and crops up here and there when he speaks of the bellum implacabile which the consonants seem to wage one with the other in certain languages. But I am not giving a history of English humor, and ought to return to his services to EngHsh etymology. They consist in the establishing of what he calls an Etymological Canon" of the different well arranged Affectiones Literarum, and an excellent table of sound changes in English (transmutationes seu metaplasmi liter- arum). It is here that we find equations which are perfectly sound, it "The idea of a law was ridiculed by M. Casaubonus and entirely absent from Junius' work. l6 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME is here that we find for the first time a systematic and full arrangement of such facts. It is in his Prolegomena Etymologica that we find equations estab- lished of 'cognate letters which interchange': B, V ; D, T ; S, T; B, F. Quite important are his remarks, earliest in point of time, and true to our own time, on word-history, and changes of meaning; he established even a Semasiological Canon. Equally good are his remarks on popular etymology, with a few examples aptly chosen. He is a patriot, and in that chapter on the history of foreign words in English he sides with the Saxonists of the sixteenth century: it is an absurda kakozelia which has allowed so many old and elegant and emphatic words to fall into dis- use. He is not in favor of far-fetched etymologies from Persian and Hebrew. From the timid beginnings of orthographic reform in the sixteenth century a movement had started in favor of phonetic writing (Gill's Logonomia, 1621, Butler's Grammar, 1634) ; but a truly new start was taken by John Wallis, the mathematician, who produced in 1653 the first work on the physiological genesis of the English sounds (following sixty- seven years after Mathise had created this new discipline in 1586, unknown to Wallis). Wallis's study of articulate sound is epoch-making, as much so as Bishop Wilkins' Essay towards a Real Character, And a Philosophical Language, 1668, which became the foundation of phonog- raphy (and is well known through Techmer's reprint). The first careful observer of linguistic phenomena as represented in English, Wallis is followed by William Holder, Elements of Speech, 1669, and it is inter- esting to note the practical and successful application of their phono- logical discoveries to the teaching of the deaf and dumb. Before we can touch the fourth great master of the seventeenth century, George Hickes, we should at least describe a number of brooks which at later periods were destined to become respectable streams. The earliest works in English lexicography proper are to be chroni- cled from the beginning of the seventeenth century, — books devoted to the explanation of "hard words." The English language was proving a strange tongue even for a good "Hebrician Grecian and Latinist who might be to seek in the Italian, French or Spanish" ; it was a time when a new "world of words" was brought home by every traveler, when many made "it their study to be learned in our own language," and so "for the more-knowing Women, and less-learned Men, or indeed for all such of the illiterate who can but find in an Alphabet the word they understand not," 'Tables Alphabeticall of Hard Words' became necessary. The earliest HISTORY OF ENGLISH PHILOLOGY FLUGEL I7 of these was compiled by Robert Cowdry, 1604, followed by Bullokar's An English Expositor, 1616, Cockeram's Dictionary, 1623, and by the most ambitious one, Blount's Glossographia, 1656, which included even Saxon words "growing every day more obsolete than the other," and having a feature new and marking an innovation of great importance: Blount adds, sparingly to be sure, quotations: "To many of which [words] I have added the Authors names, that I might not be thought the innovator of them." Blount has good etymologies ; he does not become "the advo- cate for the use of such words" as he treats (cf. Skinner's assault on Min- shew) ; he merely chronicles them, letting "every ones genius" be "their own Dictator." At the side of these lexicographical works should at least be men- tioned the attempts to prepare a pragmatical grammar before Wallis : Charles Butler, 1633; GsLtaker's De Dipthongis Bivocalibns, 1646; Owen Price's English Orthographic, 1668; Thomas's Milk for Children, 1654; Cooper's Grammatica, 1685 ; and the most interesting one, published 1640 (two years after his death), "The English Grammar made by Ben Johnson. For the benefit of all strangers, out of his observation of the English language now spoken and in use." The Preface states his pur- pose : "the profit of Grammar is great to Strangers who are to live in communion and commerce with us, and it is honourable to ourselves, for by it we communicate all our labours, studies, profits, without an interpreter. We free our language from the opinion of rudeness and barbarism, wherewith it is mistaken to be diseased : we shew the copy of it, and matchableness with other tongues ; w^e ripen the wits of our own children and youth sooner by it and advance their knowledge." In grammar not so much the invention as the disposition is to be commended. Sense and experience, observation, are introduced in his raw draft of a preface as the important correctives. J. C. Scaliger's ominous word presides over it: Grammatici unus finis est recte loqui ( !). An elaborate account of the sounds of 'letters' begins, full of quotations from Scaliger and Smith, parallels from French, Italian, Hebrew, etc. The part dealing with 'Etymology' (Inflections, and the Parts of Speech, called here [by that name] ) is followed by a sketch of Syntax, in which examples are quoted, taken from Chaucer, Gower, Sir Thomas More, etc., a new feature in English grammars. The opposition to the 'opinion' of 'rudeness and barbarism' cast by some on the English language and repudiated by English writers from Sir Thomas More's and Ascham's time on, led to an interesting move- ment in the seventeenth century, as far as I know never noticed by the l8 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME histories of English Uterature: a movement in favor of following the example set by Richelieu's foundation of the Academie Francaise, 1635. If the purity of the language, its grammar, its orthography, needed look- ing after, why not do this officially? The "new Academy of wits call'd I'Academie de beaux esprits which the late Cardinal de Richelieu founded in Paris, is now in hand to reform the French language," writes Howell in 1656 to justify his orthographical 'weeding' out of superfluous letters, and perhaps in the hope of stimulating the foundation of a similar insti- tution in England, — Howell who in 1630 despaired of calling English a regular language. Dryden hopes, 1664, for such an 'Academy' to keep foreign words on the other side of the channel, and the threatening dan- ger of an English Academy reaches its height in what Johnson calls Swift's petty treatise, the Proposal for Correcting, Improving and Enlarging, and Ascertaining the English Tongue,^^ 1712, and in his desire for an Academy "to correct and fix the English language," a society or Acad- emy "to provide that no word which it shall give a sanction to be after- wards antiquated," because the English language, "so defective in gram- mar," was to be "settled." Perhaps the chmax of Swift's statements is contained in the words : "I see no absolute necessity why any language should be perpetually changing," words which we should condemn in all their absurdity if the ghost of Dr. Bentley would not appear and refer us to his own words. ^^ It required the services of a new St. George to kill these follies and dangers, and Dr. Johnson arose as the champion of English liberty, and as a man with an insight into the problems of the history of language. He banished at least for one hundred years the dreams of "regulating the language." The discipline of English literary history was long in forming: we find Pits at the beginning of the seventeenth century, 1619, Fuller in the middle, and the Thcatnim of Phillipps at the end of the century, 1675, followed by Winstanley, Langbaine, Blount: catalogues of "characters and censures" in spite of Bacon's warning, perhaps grouped in parallels a la Plutarch which never fit, and seasoned with 'opiniones aliorum.' Far above all these towers the figure of Hickes, whose philological career began with his Anglo-Saxon Grammar, 1689 (ten years before Bentley 's Dissertation!), and whose chief title to immortality is his Thesaurus, published 1703-05 (seven years before Bentley 's Horace). "This follows Addison's Spect. No. 135, August 4, 171 1. The Spectator despairs of a rule for [settling "all controversies between grammar and idiom" otherwise than by an academy]. ** [See Jebb's life of Bentley, p. 175.] HISTORY OF ENGLISH PHILOLOGY FLUGEL 19 Hickes' services to Germanic and Anglo-Saxon philology are well known ; scarcely noticed are his services to Middle English studies. He is such an interesting figure, as scholar and man, that we could easily and profitably expand this brief account into a long lecture. He is the earliest author of a scientific Anglo-Saxon grammar based on the sources, with full and careful quotations from these, and with an intelli- gent arrangement of the material, — a book which contains glimpses of the recognition of facts which were further developed not until Grimm's day. He demands a knowledge of all the 'northern' languages as a neces- sity for the Anglo-Saxon scholar, — a comparative study of Germanic languages as we should call it. He demands a knowledge of Anglo- Saxon for the historian and for the student of English law ; one of his desiderata is a new edition of Anglo-Saxon laws on the basis of a new collation of all the MSS. He collects dialect words, and recognizes the importance of the study of dialects for the philologist. He demands an historical English grammar based on a knowledge of the Ursprachen (linguarum matricum) and following the various changes down to the modern times (he calls this grammar ratiocinativa et si dicam scientifica). He recognized the affinity of the Indo-Germanic languages not only in vocabulary, but in inflection, syntax, and composition of words, and prays to God that somebody would come to write now de communitate cum aliis antiquis linguis, de communitatis illius causis. This connects him with Meric Casaubon, whose comparison of Greek and Anglo-Saxon, 1650, deserves to be mentioned. He is eminent as a commentator of Anglo-Saxon texts, and as giving for the first time a clear distinction of the periods of the English language (his periods for good and bad have been quoted until recent times). He is also eminent as one of the earliest scientific palaeographers of England, who transferred Mabillon's method to English soil. He represents the beginning of historical Eng- lish grammar as a systematic discipline, a field in which he did not have a successor until Grimm. He abounds in valuable remarks on a great number of subjects, which prove him not only a scholar and thinker, but a man of fine taste. I may mention here his attitude towards Anglo- Saxon and Middle English metrics, of which he is the earliest scholar,-" towards alliteration, towards the sound-mutation of Transition English, ahd towards the vocabulary of this period, as well as his examples of Lautverschiebung, his fine sesthetical remarks on Anglo-Saxon style and poetics, on historical syntax, on Anglo-Saxon charters, his clear recog- =^He is the earliest writer who directs his attention to Anglo-Saxon metrics and rhythmics, which he clearly distinguishes; his fine feeling for rhythmical beauty is a full counterbalance against his quantitative mistakes. 20 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME nition of Scandinavian loan-words, of French loan-words introduced at different periods, and his remarks on Middle English grammar. He is the center of a remarkable group of younger scholars ; indeed we might call the whole age the age of Hickes. Of these younger scholars I beg leave only to give the names : Christopher Rawlinson, Edward Thwaites, William Wotton, David Wilkins, John Smith (of Cambridge and Dur- ham), Thomas Benson, William Elstob and his sister Elizabeth Elstob (editor of ^Ifric's Homily on St. Gregory, 1709, and Rudiments of Grammar for the English-Saxon Tongue, 1715). None of these was more remarkable than Humfrey Wanley, whose catalogue of Anglo- Saxon manuscripts (forming the third folio of Hickes's Thesaurus, 1705) stands not only unique in his time, but is indispensable for our own and not yet superseded. The work of Hickes is the beginning of, and for a long time it is the high water mark for, Anglo-Saxon studies and of scholarly work in general. For the rest of the studies no great name comparable to his can be mentioned from the first half of the eighteenth century; we must wait for the second half, and the age of Dr. Johnson, Warton, and Tyr- whitt, the period of the first scholarly dictionary of the English language, the first critical edition of a Middle English poet, and the first classical history of English literature. But before we come to these great men, a number of smaller lights have to be observed, and some other move- ments which, important as they are, do not lead to "epoch-making" works. Shakespearean scholarship, from Rowe to Malone, does not even find a standard of textual criticism to be applied to Shakespeare's works : Bentley's influence is not felt on this field. Its only achievement is the recognition of the necessity of illustrating Shakespeare's idioms from the language of his contemporaries. No historical grammar is written which could be placed at the side of Hickes's work in Anglo-Saxon. The grammars, if they are not "practical" (like Greenwood's and Lowth's), become "philosophical" and "universal" (like those of James Harris, Priestley, and Tooke) ; and only timid and dilettantish essays are made in the direction of a scholarly and conscientious solution of the problems, as with Toilet and Pegge, who advocates dialect study, has the idea of an historical dictionary of English, and suggests the historical study of English in the schools, but has not the courage to learn Anglo-Saxon and do his work thoroughly. The antiquarian studies, often in connection with legal history, often topographical (as with Grose), have illustrious names, but follow the older lines (as Wilkins's Concilia, 1737). Sir John Fortescue Aland HISTORY OF ENGLISH PHILOLOGY FLUGEL 21 points out, like Hickes before him, the importance of the study of Anglo- Saxon law, and of a knowledge of Anglo-Saxon. Blackstone's conclud- ing chapter contains the first brilliant historical account of the rise and progress of English law, and was the stimulus for Reeves ; but no history of English law is yet written based on a careful philological study of the sources. But the interest in the older literature, which grows from slight beginnings during the first years of the century (as in Urry's and Morell's work on Chaucer), increases. Many new sources are opened, new fields of work begin to be tilled. The old ballads are modernized and collected, and the old songs ; the minor early poets are edited and re-edited ; Scot- land does not remain behind ; Ruddiman leads. Allan Ramsay follows, pointing out the "natural strength of thought and simplicity of stile of our Forefathers." Historical interest induces Hearne to edit Robert of Gloucester and Robert of Brunne, and to slip in a transcript from Sheale's copy of the Chevy Chase. The most famous of all these col- lections, Percy's Reliques, appears in 1765, — a collection which, to be sure, takes a rather apologetic attitude toward these "pieces of great sim- plicity" and "merely written for the people," but which is not without philological interest. Percy selects such specimens "as either shew the gradation of our language, exhibit the progress of popular opinions, dis- play the peculiar manners and customs of former ages, or throw light on our earlier classical poets." He thinks an apology necessary for what he regarded as too great accuracy (we think differently about it now) : "The desire of being accurate has perhaps seduced [the editor] into too minute and trifling an exactness ; and in pursuit of information he may have been drawn into many a petty and frivolous research." Among his helpers he mentions Farmer, with "that extensive knowledge of ancient English literature for which he is so distinguished," and Lye, "who stands at this time the first in the world for northern literature." Like the perfect amateur he was, creeping behind his friends, protesting that he has included nothing "immoral and indecent," he timidly "hopes he need not be ashamed [he the Reverend gentleman!] of having bestowed some of his idle hours on the ancient literature of our own country." There was fortunately another man coming, who was not afraid of wasting his precious time on these "rude productions of unpolished ages" : a man who came to his task as a leader of classical scholarship, who approached Middle English literature with a keen critical eye, — Thomas Tyrwhitt. He saw what was needed first, and what former edi- tors had not realized: an exact philological knowledge and a critical 22 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME method in dealing with the old texts. Tyrwhitt built on the foundation laid by Hickes, and in spite of mistakes and blunders gave the first satisfac- tory Middle English grammar. His editorial principles are : ( i ) to give the text as correct as the manuscripts would enable him to make it, to "form" it throughout from manuscripts, and to state every deviation; (2) to draw the line between the imperfections of the text as Chaucer left them, and those which have crept in since; (3) to illustrate and explain the more difficult passages by quotations from Chaucer's con- temporaries. That the execution of his work remained far behind his principles must not be forgotten, but with every deduction he stands high in the annals of English philology. Not as a philologist, but as an antiquarian, Joseph Ritson deserves a place after Tyrwhitt, — a man "bitter as gall and sharp as a razor," whose "superstitious scrupulosity" was — strangely enough — censured by Scott. Far above him in general importance, indeed the first master of English Uterary history, ranks Thomas Warton, whose History of Eng- lish Poetry is absolutely epoch-making; a mine of information, biblio- graphical, Uterary and historical; not a model of methodical precision, but a work impregnated by intellectual vigor, written in a clear and un- affected style, and most remarkable because its author never forgot that he was an historian and not a critic of literature. Warton's book was bitterly attacked by Ritson, and severely criticized by Scott, as an im- mense commonplace book of memoirs rather than a history; but Herder and Sulzer at once recognized its importance, and we regard it as a land- mark in the history of English philology. English lexicography of the eighteenth century grows out of the dictionaries of hard words of the seventeenth, and it becomes more am- bitious. Old words begin to be included more fully, as in Kersey (1708). Nathaniel Bailey, publishing an "Universal Dictionary" (1721), wishes to include all words, and is the first lexicographer on English soil who marks the accent (in Germany Ludwig had preceded him). The classical age of English literature called for a standard dictionary, for which Johnson's services were secured in 1747; working with astonishing quick- ness, "under pressure and anxiety, in sickness and in sorrow," he pro- duced in 1755 his great work. The new features of this immortal work are (i) the systematic insertion of quotations ; and (2) the careful logical — not yet historical — determination and distinction of the "shades of meaning." We have his classical remarks on the Dictionary, full of sound observations on language, arguments against "fixing" the language, far HISTORY OF ENGLISH PHILOLOGY FLUGEL 23 gentler than his apodictical remarks in some famous definitions. To become a truly "faithful lexicographer" he lacked only one thing, which would have made his dictionary not only critical ("interpretative") but historical, and that was a deeper knowledge of English philology — a knowledge worthy of a successor of Hickes and Junius. He says, "I pleased myself with the prospect of . . . the obscure recesses of northern learning which I should enter and ransack, the treasures with which I expected every search into those neglected mines to reward my labours." The mines were not as neglected as he thought; and what a pity that he did not enter more deeply! as deeply, for instance, as Tyr- whitt. If he could have conquered himself, if he had put his own great personality into the service of English philology, the later development of this branch of science would have been different. But we have no right to introduce the great Might-have-been ; we have to be grateful for what he gave, when, as he says, so much of his life "has been lost under the pressure of disease, much has been trifled away, and much has always been spent in provision for the day that was passing over me." To summarize the later development of English lexicography, I should say that the dictionaries in the age after Johnson were mainly pronouncing dictionaries: what is so horribly called Orthoepy was the goddess worshiped by Perry, Sheridan, Walker, and Nares, and this utilitarian or pedagogical aim deprives them of higher scientific value, even if they are most valuable for us by giving statements as to the actual pronunciation. Among continental works I should mention the early literary inter- est in English literature in France : the Jugemens des Savons, by Adrien Baillet, 1685; the Memoires of Michel de la Roche, 1710-14; Disserta- tion siir la Pocsie Anglaise, 1713; Bibliothcque Anglaise (15 volumes), 1717-27; Memoires Literaires de la Grande Bretagne, by La Roche and Chapelle, 1720-24; Voltaire's Lettres, 1733 ; the Bibliothcque Britannique, 1735; Abbe Yart's Idee de la Poesie Anglaise, 1749; the Journal Britan- nique, 175 1. In Germany we find, after the Bibliotheca Poetica, 1625, Morhof's Unterricht, 1682, and Polyhistor, 1688-92; then the Acta Erudi- torum, from 1682 to 1732, including essays and reviews dealing with English literary subjects, generally from the pen of Burkhard Mencke. Among the subjects of papers are Hickes's Grammar, Milton, Dryden, Shaftesbury, Shakespeare, and the English Language. Of the poets studying EngUsh literature we should mention Wernicke, Brockes, Bod- mer, Gleim, Hagedorn, Herder, Goethe, and scores of others. We find a Britische Bibliothek, 1756-67; Historische-Kritische Nachrichten einiger 24 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME Merkwiirdigen Englischen Dichter, 1780 ; Reuss's Lexicon der Lebendigen Schriftsteller in Gross Britannien, 1770-1803; Britisches Museum, 1777- 80; Annalen, 1780; and Sulzer's admirable bibliographical notes on the English drama, comedy, tragedy, songs, didactic poetry, the romances and fairy tales, epigrams, pastorals, satirical poetry, etc. But not one name should stand higher than that of Herder, who first among moderns has a deep insight into the heart and soul of another living people, a warm sympathy with it, and a clear grasp of its intellectual essence; who not only first inspires Germany for Ossian and Shakespeare (1773), but in his essay on the similarity between Middle English poetry and Middle German, 1777, shows an historical insight into the development of English literature and proudly asserts that the "immense treasure of the Anglo-Saxon language is ours too," and hopes for a study of this language, mentioning an early plan for an Anglo-Saxon Library in Ger- many, and recognizing with a sigh the absence of a Parker, a Selden, a Spelman, a Hooker, a Warton, in German philology. When he wrote this the man who was to combine all the strength of these giants was not yet born; but forty years afterwards there was given to the world the work which is to be regarded as the greatest landmark in the history of Germanic as well as English philology. I am speaking, of course, of Jacob Grimm's Grammar, published 1819. Indeed Grimm's work is so stupendous that we must divide the whole history of Germanic philology into a period before the appearance of the grammar and one after. The first period is preparatory, deals with the beginnings; the second with its manhood and maturity. The truth of this statement we find clearly shown by the development of Anglo-Saxon studies in England : the work that is done before Grimm, or after the publication of the Grammar without taking account of it (as by Bosworth, 1823), appears to us now antediluvian, nay incredible. Bosworth is a Hickes redivivus, but what was wonderful in 1703 is a serious step backward in 1823. His services, if we want to give a calm judgment, were historically valuable, because he helped to satisfy the demand for a more elementary grammar and a word-list; but he neither wrote a grammar nor a dictionary worthy of that name for our time, and his work is an anachronism. More remarkable are the services of Conybeare, who published good translations from the Anglo-Saxon, and whose short life promised greater things ; and a high place of honor is due to Sharon Turner, whose //w^orv of England from the Earliest Period to the Norman Conquest (1799- 1805) was a new start in Anglo-Saxon and English historiography. It was the first Anglo-Saxon Kulturgeschichte, with ample quotations HISTORY OF ENGLISH PHILOLOGY FLUGEL 25 obtained often under the greatest difficulties ; the first work in England in which at least the attempt is made to give the story of Beowulf. Men- tion should also be made of J. Webb (who died early, 1814), whose Grammar of the Primitive, Intermediate, and Modern English Tongue was never finished ; and of Dr. Silver, James Ingram, and Robert Meadows White. But the two scholars who mark the greatest advance in scholarship during the first half of the century are Kemble and Thorpe. Benjamin Thorpe was the pupil of Rask, and the careful editor of Caed- mon, the Laws, the Gospels, /Elfric's Homilies, and the Diplomatarium. John Mitchell Kemble was the grateful pupil of Maasmann, Schmeller, and Grimm, — of Grimm especially, to whom he says that he owes "all the knowledge I possess, such as it is ; the founder of that school of philology which has converted etymological researches, once a chaos of accidents, into a logical and scientific system," and who he hopes (in the dedication of his Beoii'ulf) "will not refuse this tribute of admiration and respect from perhaps the first Englishman who has adopted and acted upon his views." Considering the fifty years of his life, Kemble's work is aston- ishing: his edition of Beoivulf, of the Codex V ere ellencis,oi Salomon and Saturn, not to mention his lectures on Anglo-Saxon literature, his anti- quarian researches, and his collection of Anglo-Saxon documents (1839-48), which is the foundation of our present knowledge of early English institutions and customs, the great model of all such undertak- ings. His exact knowledge of Anglo-Saxon, his paleographic skill and critical acumen, make his work monumental ; and the commentary on it. The Saxons in England (1849), ^'^^ the undisputed masterpiece until the appearance of Stubbs's Constitutional History in 1873. As successors of Kemble and Thorpe in the Anglo-Saxon field we should mention John Earle, Skeat, Toller, Richard Garnett, Hardwick, Cockayne, and Joseph Stevenson. Nor has any one been more trust- worthy and solid than Henry Sweet and Arthur Napier, — the latter trained in that great school of textual accuracy of JuHus Zupitza's. As the undisputed master of English phonology — and the phonology of the dialects — we should mention, besides Sweet, Alexander J. Ellis, author of the monumental work on Early English pronunciation and the phonol- ogy of EngHsh dialects (1869-89); James Murray, who gave the first model grammar of any English dialect (1873); Joseph Wright; and Edwin Guest, author of the earliest large work on English rhythms (1838) and a great number of valuable grammatical and antiquarian investigations. An event of great importance for English philological studies was 26 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME the founding of the Philological Society in 1842. Before this, in 1857, Richard C. Trench read his paper on "Some Deficiencies of our Dic- tionary," which led to the vast collection of material for a new EngUsh Dictionary. The earliest plans for this Dictionary were drawn by Her- bert Coleridge {Proposal, 1859) and Frederick J. Furnivall ; the work was eventually put into the safe hands of the greatest living authority on English philology. Dr. Murray, who, after years of patient toil, wise planning, and remarkable circumspection, produced the first part of this monumentiim aere perennius in 1888. At the side of this greatest master- piece of our science the other pieces of lexicographical work recede into the background, even if they represent honest work and — for their time — a high standard of excellence or usefulness: Jamison's Etymological Dictionary of the Scottish Language (1808), a great storehouse of quota- tions; Todd's Johnson (1816) and Latham's Johnson (1870); Nares's Glossary (1822) ; Charles Richardson's New Dictionary (1836) ; Wedg- wood's Etymological Dictionary (1857); and Skeat's Etymological Dictionary, the best of its kind — a great storehouse of information. The necessary supplement to the Oxford Dictionary is the English Dialect Dictionary, based in part on the material collected by the Dialect Society (which was founded by Skeat) and edited, with great philological knowl- edge and technical skill, by Joseph Wright. In the history of Middle EngUsh studies (which were profited less directly by Grimm, who had not many more texts than Tyrwhitt's Chaucer and Walter Scott's Sir Tristrem) a new epoch begins — not only for England — with the founding of the Early English Text Society by Dr. Furnivall in 1864. This not only gave a new impulse to these studies, but made them possible on a scientific scale. A new scholarly life begins with its publications, and the services of the moving and leading spirit of the Society, Dr. Furnivall, are not only of lasting value for philological studies but of national importance. His aim was "to bring the mass of earher literature within the reach of the ordinary student, and to wipe away the reproach under which England had long rested, of having felt little interest in the monuments of her early life and language." To achieve this end more fully, Furnivall has crowned his work with the founding of the Chaucer Society and the publication of the great mass of Chaucer manuscripts, which alone makes a critical study of Chaucer's text possible. On the work done by Dr. Furnivall and his helpers rests the study of Middle English dialects. As master commentator, if not editor, of manuscript texts, we may mention Professor W. W. Skeat, the Tyrwhitt of the nineteenth century. HISTORY OF ENGLISH PHILOLOGY FLUGEL 2/ Of the men who did valuable work before the founding of the Early English Text Society, we should mention — after Walter Scott, Weber, and the earlier pioneers in this line — especially : David Laing, James Morton, R. M. White, and Sir Frederick Madden, the greatest palae- ographer of his day, whose editions of Layamon, of Havelok, and of Wycliffe's Bible (based on a careful collation of sixty-five manuscripts) are monuments not yet superseded. We should also mention the print- ing clubs, like the Roxburgh, the Surtees Society, the Camden Society, the Scottish Societies, and the Rolls Series. One of the most voluminous editors of Middle English and Elizabethan works was Thomas Wright, whose best editions are Robert of Gloucester and Robert of Brunne, the Political Songs, the Anglo-Latin poets, and the volume of Vocabularies, and whose most stimulating work was the Reliquiae Antiquae, published in conjunction with Halliwell, 1839-43. What a pity that his carelessness, his lack of accurate philological knowledge, and his mania for rapid book- making, should bring the value of his whole life's work in question ! As to the work done in the editing of Elizabethan and later texts, the central interest is grouped around Shakespeare, and the development of Shakespearean studies would easily demand more time than we can give to it. The landmarks of this vast field of English philology seem to be, after Bos well's Malone, 1820, Collier's textual work (1842-44, be- fore he stigmatized his name and fame forever) ; Halli well's Folio edition, 1853-65; Dyce's critical text, 1857; Clark and Wright's, 1863-66; the illustrative work of Douce; that of Drake; the Concordance of Mary Cowden Clarke; the photolithograph of the First Folio, by Staunton, 1866; Ingleby's and Fleay's criticism; the Life of Shakespeare, by Halli- well, 1874-84, the results of which may for the most part be regarded as final ; and the careful bibUographical work of Sidney Lee. Other texts belonging to the period of modern English literature that mark an ad- vance in method are Nott's Wyatt and Surrey, 181 5- 16, and the editions by Gififord, whose forte lies in his sharp and racy commentary. The most trustworthy editor of Elizabethan dramatists is Dyce, whose edition of Skelton is also a classic. Merely mentioning the careful reprint of Dodsley's collection of plays, by Hazlitt, and the work of the Old and the New Shakespeare Societies, we have to note particularly Hales' and Furnivall's Percy Folio Manuscript, Grosart's on the whole very accurate reproductions, Chappell and Rimbault's Ballads and Songs, and, last but not least, Arber's Reprints. Moreover, Arber's Transcripts of the Sta- tioner's Register and Term Catalogues are the basis of any sound biblio- graphical study of the Hterature of the earlier epoch of modern English. 28 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME The history of EngHsh literature has not found in the nineteenth century a master who might be compared with Warton. ElUs's Historical Sketch ( 1801 ) is ridiculous ; Wright's Biographia contains a valuable mass of materials, but is no history; David Irving's Scottish Poetry (1828-61) is a standard work only for lack of a better one. Morley's English Writers is a good popular work, but not critical, independent, or exhaust- ive. Collier's Materials for a History of Dramatic Poetry are far more remarkable than all these; but not one of these men reaches Warton's height, and Adolphus W. Ward's History of English Dramatic Litera- ture (1875) alone can be called a classical account of this important branch of the history of literature. More popular books, school-books, or more or less subjective treatments, undertaken from the standpoint of an individual enjoyment of this or that period, or of a special love of a special poet — causeries generally more entertaining and less sound — do not take the place of a sound literary history ; Gosse's Eighteenth Century Literature, Saintsbury's Elizabethan Literature, and the like, make the want of a comprehensive scholarly history of English literature felt only the more. But, to be sure, the field is so vast that the ordinary scholar is deterred ; and every succeeding age will require a greater master to earn these laurels. Other countries have faithfully helped, none more faithfully than Germans; and Klopstock's word still holds good (unless America shall wrest this laurel from the old country in course of time) — *'Nie war gegen das Ausland ein andres Land gerecht wie du." Never were scholars ready to devote themselves more unselfishly and more seriously to the study of a foreign language or literature, and never did the quiet, serious application of methodical training yield better results. Grimm's funda- mental work not only served as a basis for later work, but it also largely inspired and directed the work in historical EngUsh grammar, that branch of English philology which has kept in the foreground of study and in- terest during the second half of the nineteenth century, and which is re- garded as the key to the scientific examination of modern English, to the beginnings of English literature, and the philological method in general. The study of Anglo-Saxon has, perhaps, the greatest number of eminent names : Leo, Bouterwek, Dieterich, Ettmiiller, Ebert, Rieger, and the one man who, working under the most distressing circumstances, with an iron will, and sound knowledge of comparative Germanic grammar, prepared the texts of Anglo-Saxon poetry on which all later study of these texts is based, on which indirectly the later work in Anglo-Saxon grammar is also based, and whose Anglo-Saxon Sprachschatz (1861-64) is the first HISTORY OF ENGLISH PHILOLOGY FLUGEL 29 and only satisfactory Anglo-Saxon dictionary, — the model of a work of the kind, and not yet antiquated. Grein not only furnished the pattern for such a work, but also pointed the way to a complete dictionary, which our generation has not yet succeeded in furnishing. The later editions of the Bibliothek, Wiilcker's continuation of Grein's scheme, are worthy of their forerunner, and the editions of Zupitza and Assmann, will not be superseded for a long time to come. The critical work of Miillenhof, ten Brink, and others, applied the method of the "higher criticism" to Beozvulf, and even if we do not accept their results, the method of these studies remains one of the lasting achievements of Anglo-Saxon phil- ology. The history of Anglo-Saxon literature found an early worker m Ettmiiller ; its most brilliant sketch is the one by ten Brink. The host of workers in the field with a smaller output cannot be enumerated here ; their safe results were critically sifted in Wiilcker's Grundriss, which is a model, in its way, of the help which such a book can become in the hands of a master. Anglo-Saxon history found eminent representatives in Gervinus (1830), Lappenberg, and Pauli ; Lappenberg's work, for the time of its publication (1834), was "the most complete, the most judi- cious, the most unbiased, and most profound," — an early example of the critical historical method, and one of the finest specimens of it. The study of Anglo-Saxon law is represented worthily by Schmid (who studied with Grimm's grammar the texts he was going to edit), by Maurer, who is regarded as the founder of the discipline of the history of comparative Germanic law, and by Liebermann, whose new edition of the Laws, in course of publication, will be a xxfj^ia eg alei, combining soundness of historical scholarship with philological accuracy and a mastery of the critical method. The stress which was laid so early on Anglo-Saxon, and the model of an historical grammar established by Grimm, resulted in the first great historical grammar, that of Koch, 1863-64, following Fiedler's still earlier but less complete attempt (1850), and in the systematic grammar of Modern English by Matzner, who is careful in giving the historical basis in his notes. Matzner's great merits consist in his syntactical studies, and in his services for Middle English. The Middle English section of grammar also found masters in Kluge, Morsbach, and Luick. All pre- vious work in Anglo-Saxon grammar was absolutely superseded by Sie- vers's Grammar, which holds its place as containing a model treatment of inflections and phonology, and gives the basis for grammatical work in Middle English by ten Brink, Morsbach, Kaluza, and the scores of com- 30 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME pilers of dissertations. Stratmann gave the earliest Middle English glossary on a large basis ; but Matzner's dictionary, utilizing the mater- ials of the Early English Text Society, is the first real dictionary of Mid- dle English, — of the greatest importance (even if Matzner does not men- tion it) for English lexicography at large. The study of English — espe- cially Middle English — syntax is worthily represented by the work of Einenkel and Kellner, that of Anglo-Saxon syntax by Nader and Wiilf- ing; and the day is not far distant when a German will present his cousins with the first historical syntax on a large scale. English phon- ology was stimulated by the representative works on phonetics of Sievers, Trautmann, and Victor. Middle English textual studies are flourishing, but, whether due to the largeness of the field or to the still incomplete material, the harvest has not yet been gleaned as thoroughly as in Anglo-Saxon studies. Of the grammatical and lexicographical works I have spoken ; but the critical editing requires a further note. The earlier work of Stratmann and Matzner was followed up by Mall, who in 1870 tried for the first time to edit a Middle English text through a careful investigation of the rimes, and the establishing of a pedigree of manuscripts. His work was carried on on a broader basis by Zupitza, Kolbing, and Horstmann ; and ten Brink showed in his edition of Chaucer's Prologue and the Compleynte to Pite an equal mastery of this field. Zupitza and Kolbing also deserve to be mentioned as commentators ; the notes on Guy of Warwick and the metrical romances vie with the commentaries of the old Dutch school, while the texts show the critical sagacity of Bentley. Of all the modern writers Shakespeare has, of course, received the largest portion of critical care. Of the scores upon scores of German commentators, editors, lexicographers, and lecturers, it would be an end- less task to give an adequate idea. The masterpieces of the scholarly study of the poet are the critical edition of Delius, 1854-61, the edition of Romeo and Juliet by Tycho Mommsen, 1859, the biography of Shake- speare by Elze, and the Lexicon by Alexander Schmidt, 1874. Among other workers in Elizabethan literature we should mention Koeppel's re- searches, those of Sarrazin, and Schick's investigations in Kyd. The earlier Tudor period has found an historian of its political aspects (Busch), but no Lechler has devoted his attention to the age of the Re- formation either for its theology or its literature. The history of English literature, or large sections of it, was treated by Eichorn (1796), Bouterwek (1801-10), Grasse, and Schlegel ; by Ebert, whose Essay on the Beginnings of the Drama (1859) is a land- HISTORY OF ENGLISH PHILOLOGY FLUGEL 3I mark in this study ; by Klein, whose Geschichte des Dramas is a monu- ment of vast learning, presented in a horrible form; by Hettner — more suggestive than accurate ; and by Ranke, in some classical chapters of his History of England, 1859. But the unsurpassed, unequalled master of this branch was Bernhard ten Brink, whose great services to Chaucer studies and to Beowulf are overshadowed by his classical History of Early English Literature, which is the undisputed model of modern liter- ary history. Based on the widest as well as deepest knowledge of medi- eval literature, it combines absolute accuracy, great originality, and the finest literary taste with a mastery of language to a degree of which no other modern literature can boast an equal. It is the first real history of English literature, and — more than that — a history of English intellect, incomplete on account of the premature death of its author. The technical side of EngHsh poetry has found a voluminous his- torian in Schipper (1881-88), some of whose pupils, as Luick and Al- scher, have followed him. Of the scientific journals devoted to English philology, either entirely or in part, we should mention Herrig's Archiv (1846), Elze's Atlantis (1846), Ebert's Jahrhiicher, Englische Studien (1877), Anglia (1878), the Mitteilungen, the Bihliographische Jahres- berichte, and the serial publications of a number of universities, hke the Bonner, Miinchener, and Marburger Beitrdge. The other European nations have scarcely competed with the Ger- mans in the field of English philology. Of Spanish contributions I do not know. Of Italian there are the early popular accounts of Beozvulf, the work of Bellezza and others dealing with Chaucer — rather popular in character — and the beginnings of Shakespeare study. Among the French there is the superficial account of English literature by Chateaubriand, surpassed in superficiality and absolute lack of soundness by Taine's fa- mous book, which, for the older periods at least, cannot claim any con- sideration, and whose flashes of genius illumine the later periods more in the fashion of lightning than of steady sunlight. Francisque Michel's Bibliothcque Anglo-Saxonne (1836) was a good beginning; Sandras's work, pretentious but unsound; and it is only in recent years that more careful study and maturer scholarship have been devoted to English. I mention especially Jusserand and Bapst, Beljame, Henry, and Thomas. Among the "northern" nations Russia has furnished the classical account of Greene, and Denmark has been a stronghold of sound Anglo-Saxon studies: Thorkelin made the first copy of the Beowulf manuscript (1786) and the first edition (1815). There are also Grundtvig's studies, editions, and translations (1802-20); Rask's Anglo-Saxon Grammar (1817) ; 32 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME later Worsaae, Steenstrup's work on the Normans, the Beowulf studies of Bugge, and the Studier over Engelske Kasus of Jespersen (1891). Sweden has Wadstein's recent studies. Holland has the careful work of the brothers Logeman, and Cosijn's brilliant Beowulf notes and statis- tical grammar of the West Saxon dialect. In America we date the first timid beginnings of English philological studies from the beginning of the nineteenth century. What precedes can scarcely claim the title of belonging to our subject. There are the articles on Americanisms by Witherspoon (1761), Franklin's curious Scheme for a new Alphabet and a reformed mode of Spelling (1768), the earlier practical grammars by Robert Ross (1780), Webster (1783), and— if we claim him— Lindley Murray (1795). More valuable are the earlier lexicographical works of Webster (1810), Pickering (1816), Worcester (1846), and Bartlett (1848). Quite unique in interest is Jefferson's Httle Introduction to Anglo-Saxon, and his provision for the first chair of Anglo-Saxon in America. Later come Longfellow's early studies in Anglo-Saxon literature (1836), and the life-work of the Nestor of Anglo- Saxon studies in this country, Francis March. The foundation of Johns Hopkins University, and its courses modeled (for better for worse) after the German pattern, produced an early harvest of respectable work from Bright and his pupils; while a number of American scholars received their inspiration in Germany. At the head of these are J. M. Hart and Albert S. Cook, the author of the best publications on Anglo-Saxon subjects in this country. Another group may be formed of the pupils of Francis J. Child,— Kittredge, Manly, Gummere, and others, excelling in Middle English and Tudor English; and others are "independent," like Hiram Corson (who would scarcely care to be classed here, but whose Reader gives him an early and an hon- orable place), and Lounsbury, justly regarded as one of the great Chaucer scholars of our time. As the three great names in the history of English philology in America I should not hesitate to name Lowell, Child, and Furness. Lowell's many essays on literary and philological subjects give him a leading rank in our field; from the time of the publication of his Conversations on the Old Poets (1845) to his essay on Milton's Areo- pagitica (1890) he treated a great number of subjects belonging to the history of English literature with the hand of a master, the keen eye of a scientist, and the soul of a poet. He must also be regarded as one of the earliest and one of the soundest of Chaucer and Shakespeare scholars ; and his introduction to the Bigelow Papers contains a very important philological discussion of the New England dialect. He might very well HISTORY OF ENGLISH PHILOLOGY FLUGEL 33 be the leader of American dialect lore. F. J. Child's services to EngHsh philology are not confined to his early masterly Observations on the Lan- guage of Gower and Chaucer (1862-66), valuable not only in the history of Middle English inflections, pronunciation, and metrics, but also of Middle English syntax. To him we owe ultimately, as Dr. Furnivall so charmingly tells us, the Chaucer Society and the Ballad Society. But the one completed masterpiece of English philology which America may be proud of is his collection of Ballads (1883-94), of fundamental and lasting importance : a monument of research, of broad scholarship, sound taste, and critical method, without its equal, — a work further revealing a great personality. As the last great masterpiece of American philological research — unfortunately not yet completed — we recognize of course what its author modestly calls "A New Variorum Edition" of Shakespeare, a work which, since the publication of its first volume in 1873, has been growing not only in size but importance ; a work each volume of which reveals fur- ther the stupendous breadth of scholarship, the critical acumen, and the delightful personality of its author, Dr. Furness. I am at the end of my survey : Heard are the voices, Heard are the sages — The world and the ages. The achievements in our field have been so great that the temptation is near to fall into the attitude of "rest and be thankful," to give over to the feeling "Wie wir es dann so herrlich weit gebracht" ; but the truth of another word of Goethe's is equally great: "Was du ererbt von deinen Vatern hast, Erwirb es, um es zu besitzen." Standing still is falling back ; only by renewed, unceasing critical work can a science live and grow. New problems are presenting themselves daily, — great problems, worthy of our life, full of promise, and worthy of a great future. The net gain of all the past endeavors in the field of English phil- ology seems to consist in (i) the recognition of the aim and purpose of philology as the comprehensive science of the life of the human soul as revealed in the zvord ; and (2) the absolute recognition of the historical 34 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME method as applied to all the different branches. The story of the develop- ment of this recognition is the history of English philology: it dawned in the seventeenth century, and was worked out in the period between Hickes and Grimm. It had not to wait for Darwin, as some people seem to think ; on the contrary, philological sciences may proudly assert that the care- ful observation of the development of its object was an estabhshed work- ing principle with them before it was ever applied to the natural sciences. It was the working principle of Junius, Wallis, and Hickes in the six- teenth century. The recognition of the historical method in the gram- matical field was accomplished when grammar gave up being categorical or legislative, when it emancipated itself from the 'Thou shalt" of medi- eval Latin grammar, from practical ends : when it became descriptive, observing the phenomena as they are, — when it became historical. In the lexicographical field this method was established when the dictionary, although for practical purposes still arranged in the unscientific alpha- betical order, gave up dictating as to the right and wrong use of words, but more humbly tried to serve as a storehouse of information as to word- history, — to give the biography of words. In the field of literary history it became established when histories of literature ceased to be biographi- cal dictionaries, catalogues of authors, summaries of this part of litera- ture or that ; when private individual likes and dislikes ceased to be the standard of measuring; when literary studies ceased to be directed by and to depend upon individual enjoyment of literature; when the history of literature was recognized as the connected account of literary movements, as one of the most important disciplines dealing with the development of the intellectual and spiritual life of mankind; when the critique, the caiiserie, and the biography became history ; when dilettantism gave way to science. In the field of textual criticism this recognition became estab- lished when the edited texts were not polished up and wilfully changed to suit the linguistic or esthetic standards of modern times, but when the purity of the literary tradition, its preservation or rehabilitation, became the editorial ideal. That it took a long time for this critical-historical method to conquer, that there were relapses and standstills, is one of the instructive facts which we observe. Some of the important problems that seem to be still waiting their solution are these : In the grammatical field English philology still lacks a comprehen- sive phonolog)^ of Middle English dialects, and careful investigations (phonological, morphological, and lexicographical) of the language of the sixteenth century, during its important transition period from Middle to Modern English. HISTORY OF ENGLISH PHILOLOGY — FLUGEL 35 Another desideratum is a comprehensive historical syntax of the lan- guage. Lexicography is waiting for a comprehensive Anglo-Saxon his- torical dictionary, and for a Middle English dictionary based on exhaust- ive collections of the Old French as well as the late Latin language. Only after these preparatory works shall be completed, will a final history of English zi'ords become possible, — a history which in its turn will serve as a basis for an English semasiology — for which the fullness of time has not yet come. An Old English onomasticon is still waiting for its compiler. In the field of English antiquities a good deal of systematic scholarly work is still to be done. As faf as editions and texts go, the relics of Anglo-Saxon prose are not yet completely collected, nor are the glosses. We have not yet a collection of the earlier EngHsh songs (to the sixteenth century) ; no complete collection even of such an important branch as the historical songs. Further, we want critical, conscientious editions of all the Eliza- bethan and Jacobean dramatists. And finally, the History of English Literature is still to be written. Drawing some lessons from the history of English philology, we see (i) the truth of Dollinger's saying that all progress in science was brought about by men who had the mastery of more than one discipline and study; (2) that even the greatest promoters were merely links in a great chain, that even the great results grew from small beginnings, and that cooperation — unselfish, international cooperation — has been most fruitful in the history of science; (3) that the highest work has resulted from a clear recognition of the problems, unselfish, steady devotion, and true enthusiasm. It seems to me that the more recent class of scholars has the first element, but lacks the proper perspective, the courage to tackle great problems, and that divine enthusiasm which inspired the great masters. DR. FLUGEL AS A SCHOLAR ' William Dinsmore Briggs THE FIRST important piece of work done by Dr. Fliigel was his doctor's thesis, entitled Thomas Carlyles Religiose und Sittliche Entwickhmg und Weltanschauung, printed in 1887.^ It was divided into two parts, the first giving a sketch of Carlyle's Hfe from the point of view of his spiritual development, the second exam- ining the nature of his attitude toward the universe. Dr. Fliigel apparently did not intend to study his subject from a critical and comparative standpoint ; perhaps he felt that the time had not yet come for an attempt of that nature. Carlyle had died but the day before, and the thunders of that mighty voice still reverber- ated among the hills. The extent and the nature of his influence could not yet be definitely settled, though it was of course inevitable that mat- ters of this kind should be touched upon. The genesis of Carlyle's ideas in his own experience, the profound influence exerted upon him by Goethe, the less profound influence of Schiller, the relation of Carlyle to the transcendental philosophy, contemporary opinion about him, — none of these topics could be entirely avoided, though only the first two are discussed systematically. Such a genetic account of Carlyle's thought was not, however. Dr. Fliigers primary purpose ; he desired rather to give an accurate description of what that thought was in itself. With clearness, precision, and tact, he put together an admirable statement, largely in Carlyle's own words, of the main outlines of what most readers must have found at times a rather puzzling matter, namely, just what it was that Carlyle thought and felt. There is no trace of an attempt to force Carlyle's ideas into a preconceived mould. That his attitude toward the problem of slavery was inconsistent with his general scheme and manner of thinking and feeling is frankly recognized ; no efifort is made to explain the fact away. The question of Carlyle's domestic unhappiness, though necessarily mentioned once or twice, is discreetly left to one side. Incidentally, the notes and text furnish much information as to Carlyle's 'Condensed from an address delivered January 14, 1915, before a memorial meeting of the University Philological Association. ^Translated, 1891, by Jessica Gilbert Tyler, as Thomas Carlyle's Moral and Religious Development. The first part, the appendices, and most of the notes were unfortunately omitted. DR. FLUGEL AS A SCHOLAR — BRIGGS 37 relation to German thought. Fronde's opinion of the book, as expressed in a letter to Dr. Fliigel, must not be left uncjuoted : "Your admirable little book is the first sign 1 have seen of an independent and clear in- sight into Carlyle's life, work and character, as it will one day be uni- versally recognized by all mankind. Leaving out Goethe, Carlyle was indisputably the greatest man (if you measure greatness by the perma- nent effect he has and will produce on the mind of mankind) who has appeared in Europe for centuries. You have seen into this and know how to appreciate it. His character was as remarkable as his intellect. There has been no man at all, not Goethe himself, who in thought and action was so consistently true to his noblest instincts." I have found nothing in the book to prove that Dr Fliigel rated Carlyle quite as high as Froude places him. In fact. Dr. Fliigel is very careful to leave somewhat uncer- tain the actual extent to which he agrees with Carlyle. But if we may very well consider Froude's estimate of Carlyle as extravagant, there is no rea- son for disagreeing with his estimate of the book. If one cared to criticize Dr. Fliigel's work at all, one might, from a quite different standpoint from Froude's, suggest that perhaps it was not Carlyle the thinker that was so important as it was the Carlyle who with the insight of genius seized upon certain profound ethical truths and with the volcanic power of his words drove them deeply home. Carlyle seems to me to have been by nature incapable of creating a large and coherent system of thought, and to analyze his Weltanschauung is to enumerate a series rather of fiery emotional outbursts than of carefully coordinated ideas. Dr. Fliigel would, I think, in reply have repudiated the distinction. To him no philosophy would have deserved the name that was not profoundly im- pregnated with feeling, and perhaps it would have been the second ele- ment to which he would attach the greater importance. One can quite conceive of Dr. Fliigel choosing rather to be damned with Plato than sainted with Aristotle. Dr. Fliigel's next large piece of work was the publication in 1889 of the standard critical text of Sidney's Astrophcl and Stella and Defence of Poesie, together with a brief account of Sir Philip's life. The volume is of considerable importance because, in addition to providing a sound text and apparatus, it contained new material for the life of Sidney, as well as acute critical observations upon his works. It did not, however, embrace all of the results of Dr. Fliigel's researches concerning Sidney, nor have all of these apparently been published. Among his papers is a set of copies of the letters of Sidney obtained as the result of prolonged examination of MS. and printed sources in public and private libraries 38 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME throughout Europe. Some one-third of these letters were sent to press and the proof-sheets are also among the papers. Besides these, there is the second revise of an English translation of the life mentioned above, together with a form-letter dated at the Clarendon Press, 1892, to be sent out in search of further materials. In this Dr. Fliigel states his inten- tion of publishing shortly for the Clarendon Press an edition of Sidney's letters. We can only suppose that, upon removing to California in 1892, and becoming more and more occupied with his work on Chaucer, he found the design impossible of execution. An important contribution to the pedagogical side of the study of English literature is to be found in the Neuenglisches Lesebuch, 1895. In the preface Dr. Fliigel gives an interesting account of the origin of this book, according to which it w^as merely the first volume of a series which was to introduce the student to the original documents by giving these or extracts from these in as accurate a form as possible. This volume was the only portion of the plan carried to completion. The preface is itself a deUghtful piece of writing, in its simplicity of language, its frankness of confession, and its enthusiastic ideahsm. With engaging candor Dr. Fliigel gives us glimpses into his early student life, and tells how he excogitated the great plan of which this volume is the earnest during the course of a sleepless night in London. With similar candor he tells us of the many difficulties wdth which he had to contend in preparing the material, of the many faults which he was well aware the book possessed. And it must be admitted that it had its share of faults. I have called this book an important contribution ; and I see no reason for weakening the assertion. Yet such has not been the opinion of all scholars. I have seen three reviews of it, and these dififer markedly in character. One was quite laudatory, the second praised with strong reservations, the third condemned harshly. The fairest judgment is without question that in the Athenaeum of May 9, 1896, and the follow- ing words express what seems to me to be the truth : "The work admits of being greatly improved ; but even in its present shape it will be re- ceived wath merited gratitude both by German and native students of English." The faults which the book exhibits fall apparently into two principal classes. First, there are those having to do with the repro- duction of the documents, arising chiefly out of the difficulties under which the material was made ready for the press. Much of the correct- ing and of the collation had to be done by others, with the result that errors appeared in considerable numbers. Unfortunate as this state of DR. FLUGEL AS A SCHOLAR BRIGGS 39 things was, it did not by any means destroy the usefulness of the work. Secondly, there were errors of a purely philological nature, and these were more serious. Nevertheless, every scholar, even the greatest, has to pass through an educational stage in which his philological equipment is not adequate to the minutely correct execution of a great task. The real question here is as to whether the work we are considering was worth doing in spite of that fact. No doubt can well be entertained on that point when one considers the large amount of valuable material con- tained in the text and annotations, much of it material that was at the time new, and which students who have no access to large libraries would even now find difficulty in obtaining elsewhere. In the first volume of Representative English Comedies, 1903, Dr. Fliigel edited Udall's Ralph Roister Doister. The introduction contains some new material for Udall's life and shows an admirable discretion in the interpretation of evidence. But what makes it of special interest is the criticism of the play from an aesthetic as well as historical point of view. Udall's ghost should be grateful to Dr. Fliigel for showing so clearly just what the Eton schoolmaster contributed to the development of English comedy, and for pointing out that he was something more than the mere meritorious imitator of the classics that most of us have been languidly content to believe him. The introduction, too, is written in English, an EngUsh which is, as a matter of course, clear and correct, and which has also idiomatic liveliness, adapting itself to the purposes of argument as well as to those of literary criticism and humorous comment. Some of it even has the sparkle of Dr. Fliigel's talk, and reminds us how completely at home he was in a tongue, which, if we may believe his father's testimony, he did not at first acquire any too easily. In 1907, in the second edition of Wiilker's Geschichte der Englischen Literatur, Dr. Fliigel published an account of the literature of America. This account, of which a second edition was to have been brought out this year, did not profess to be an elaborate history of the subject, but to present only the main outlines, and occupied only one hundred and twenty-eight pages, besides the bibliographical material. Brief though it be, it is a remarkable piece of work. I confess freely that it gave me a respect for my native literature that I had not previously entertained. American literature is seen in a true perspective, with a natural distri- bution of light and shade. The author of this 'text-book' understands that his business is not merely to supply a certain amount of information, but to make the student feel the real worth of the subject. Breadth of view combines with exact knowledge and sympathetic feeling, with the re- 40 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME suit that substantial justice is done. There is a clearing away of dead wood; the object contemplated assumes definite outline, not through any artificial rearrangement of lines and surfaces, but through an emphasis rightly distributed. And by virtue of an instant response, a quick sym- pathy, a genuine humor, a clear, energetic, and flexible style. Dr. Fliigel leads us to see what we are surprised that we had not seen for ourselves. Let me illustrate as well as can be done by mere figures this sense of proportion. Only fifteen pages are given to the long period from 1607 to 1765, and of these fifteen, six are occupied with Franklin, whose literary activity extended of course beyond the latter date. Six pages are devoted to the years 1765- 1788, and of these two are given up to the Declaration of Independence. In passing, I may remark on the fact that Dr. Fliigel's discussion of this document as a piece of literature is a striking example of the sureness of his literary criticism. Recognizing, as we all must, the fundamentally unoriginal character of many of its ideas (though he lends no countenance to the charge of plagiarism) and the visionary or doctrinaire quality that pervades so much of it (since after all men do not, as an historical fact, appear to have been created either free or equal), he recognizes at the same time the splendid ade- quacy with which the ideas are expressed and the extraordinary rhetori- cal merits which have made the document at once a political manifesto and a national creed. Yet, neither in this criticism, nor in the prominence given to Franklin, nor elsewhere in the volume is there any confusion of historical with Uterary judgments. A piece of writing is not necessarily a piece of literature because it is of prime historical importance, and the Declaration would not have received its two pages were it not for the fact that its qualities as a piece of literature were partly the cause of its historical importance. In this way there is often a peculiarly intimate association between literary and historical criticism, and the appearance for instance of the xA.uthorized Version in 161 1 is for one and the same reason an event of supreme interest for both the literary and the histori- cal student. It is not of course that one always agrees with Dr. Fliigel's judg- ments. I cannot feel that he really understood Huckleberry Finn, though indeed he spoke highly of it, and I venture to think that his enthusiasm for the American ideal of liberty and his abhorrence of slavery led him to find greater merits in Uncle Tom's Cabin than that work possesses. Was it not a touch, too, of German sentimentalism that made him speak so warmly of the deathbed scene of Eva, and that made him say that the book stirs the heart of the reader with greater power than any other book since — The Sorrows of Werther? DR. FLUGEL AS A SCHOLAR BRIGGS 4I But these are the veriest trifles. In particular matters one differs with any critic. Of greater interest to me is the fact that Dr. Fliigel sedulously avoids the discussion of two points upon which he could have spoken to our great profit, but which he undoubtedly felt that he could not even touch upon within the space at his command. Nevertheless, I wish that he might have seen his way to lengthening his sketch by fifteen or twenty pages and have said something about the relation of American literature to the general conditions under which it has grown up, and something about what constitutes the difference between American litera- ture and English, how far that difference is merely one of name rather than substance. Perhaps the most striking excellence of the volume is the remarkable success with which Dr. Fliigel achieved two results : He produced a book which, by virtue of the amount of exact information it contains and of its clear arrangement and definiteness of statement, is a school- room manual of the best type ; he produced a book which, by virtue of its lucid and sound criticism, its vigor and independence, its power of arous- ing interest in its subject, has so far as I know, no rival in its own field. It is unfortunate that the best introduction to the study of American literature should be at the disposal of German students only, whereas in our own schools we must perforce rest contented with books that benumb rather than inspire. At this point I may introduce the subject of Dr. Fliigel's activity in the field of periodical literature. In 1889 he became associate editor of Anglia and remained such until his death, though naturally after his removal to California he could not take his former active part in conduct- ing the journal. In 1890 he founded the Beiblatt zur Anglia, to which he remained during the rest of his life a frequent contributor of notices and reviews. He published something over fifty articles in various periodi- cals. ^ I cannot of course give a fist of these articles here, but I may emphasize the fact that to the scholar such a list would convey much besides the bare titles themselves, and I may quote some words employed by Dr. Fliigel himself when, in addressing this association less than a year ago, he was confronted with a similar problem. "That long list of 265 papers, then, which I have not quoted at length in the goodness of my heart, is not a dry catalogue of titles, but the echo of many a spoken word carefully premeditated, pondered over, and uttered— this dry list has a soul, it is like a gallery of ancestral portraits which, if visited at the proper time and in the proper frame of mind, is like any other an- ^ See Bibliography, post. 42 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME cestral gallery — ghost-haunted." It would require, however, an inspira- tion I have never enjoyed to enliven the series of Dr. Fliigel's titles and make visible what lies behind them, the assiduous labor, the patient medi- tation, the enthusiasm that burned like a clear, brilliant flame. It would be superfluous to lay stress upon the breadth of the field of erudition covered by these papers, an erudition that expatiates at ease whether dealing with the attitude taken toward the study of language by the fathers of the church, the philological proclivities of Roger Bacon, the annotation of a sixteenth-century Christmas song, the sources of Carlyle's thought, the remote recesses of the intricately involved jungle of mediaeval learning, or the comparatively virgin forest of American literature. Dr. Fliigel was not, and did not pretend to be a universal schol- ar of the old type, for the times are past when a man took all knowledge for his province. Nor was he a polyglot like Mezzofanti. But he could handle the literature of his subject in at least twelve diflferent languages, five principal dialects, and a multitude of subordinate ones. His subject was philology in the broad sense of the term, not the narrow, and he himself defined philology as "the comprehensive science of the human soul as revealed in the word." He was a lover of words because he was a lover of life. He loved life because he was himself tingling with life. No aspect of Hfe failed to ehcit from him a response, whether of liking or aversion. And if he did not pretend to be a universal scholar of the old type, he had at least some of that type's most ennobling traits, which I may be allowed to display in his own words. At the end of his presi- dential address before the Pacific Coast Branch of the American Philo- logical Association he said: "We see that the highest work has resulted from unselfish devotion, a clear recognition of the problems and true enthusiasm. It seems that the more recent class of scholars has the first element, but lacks the proper perspective, the courage to tackle great problems and that divine enthusiasm which inspired the great Masters," Even a bitter enemy could not deny to him the perspective, the courage, and the divine enthusiasm. It will interest you not a little to know that he read twenty papers before this association, of which about one-half seem to have been pub- lished or utilized for publication. He read seven papers before the Pacific Coast Branch of the American Philological Association, including the address which he delivered as president in 1901. Abstracts of five of these are to be found in the Transactions, and much of the material was used in various ways. He was general editor of Section II of the Belles Lettres Series. In the many years of his active connection with Stanford DR. FLUGEL AS A SCHOLAR — BRIGGS ' 43 (he spent at least three years in Europe), he gave an average of about one and one-fourth new courses every year, an average which, when we consider the nature of his subject and the small number of seriously- minded graduate students at this institution, is instructive of his patience, his industry, and his hopefulness. You will be pleased as well as inter- ested to learn that of late he had come to feel even more than hopeful and that only a few months ago he told me that he regarded the work done with his graduate classes in the last two or three years with much satis- faction. Furnivall pointed out many years ago the necessity of a Chaucer concordance, and a certain amount of more or less unsystematic work in accordance with his suggestions had been done by various persons when in 1890 Dr. Fliigel volunteered to carry on the task. Whose hand it was that brought the slips into the worse than chaotic condition of which Dr. Flugel speaks in an article addressed to Furnivall I have not learned, though my impression is that there had been some futile attempt at col- laboration. It was characteristic of Dr. Fliigel, whose brain teemed with grandiose visions of scholarly achievement and whose indomitable energy and then robust health made all things seem possible, that the compara- tively modest plan of a concordance should be rapidly expanded into that of a dictionary. It was in the same way characteristic of his sanguine nature that this dictionary should be conceived on a scale, which, as he came reluctantly to perceive, was beyond the powers of any one man to realize. And, characteristically again, the reduced scale was itself one that would have made Quintilian stare and gasp. Yet for him this restricted scale was reahzable. It must be empha- sized that Dr. Flugel was pursuing no will o' the wisp, no fleeting phan- tom that ever persistently evaded his enclosing arms. Already could he descry the distant land. He might already have exclaimed, Jam tandem Italiae fugientis prendimus oras. For the completion of the plan was of late years a matter merely of arithmetic. He knew how rapidly the collated material could be digested into form, how much each week would add to the orderly pile of finished manuscript; he knew the extent and nature of the work that remained to be done. It seemed highly probable that by the end of 1922 he could write Finis. The equation contained, indeed, one unknown factor, that of health, but it was only recently that this factor became of ominous import. No scholar is rash or visionary who undertakes a work which he has every reason to believe that he can finish by the age of sixty. 44 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME Upon this point I wish to throw the very greatest stress, for I know that both here at Stanford and elsewhere Dr. Fliigel was not infrequently re- proached with grasping at the air. Why, it was asked, did he not limit his plan in such a way that he might have some rational hope of accom- plishment? Why, indeed! Is an engineer unpractical because he under- takes to build an aqueduct that will demand ten years to finish? Is a statesman visionary because in his youth he initiates a policy that will not come to fruition until his hairs are grey? And yet death comes at any unexpected moment like a thief in the night. It is an ancient and an approved maxim : Judge not of the wisdom of a design by the outcome. Wisdom is shown in the estimation of present chances, in the skilful adaptation of means to ends, in the prudent utilization of resources. The outcome is in the hands of fortune, on the knees of the gods. Initia in potestate nostra sunt, de eventu fortuna indicat. There lies no reproach against Dr. Fliigel of being rash, visionary, or unpractical. And no doubt he confidently believed, with that idealism of nature that consti- tuted so large a part of his personal charm and that counted for so much in determining the quality of his learning, that even if he should die before completing his task, yet in the present advanced state of scholar- ship, somewhere, somehow there would be found a man who would bring the work to full perfection.* I have been asked what is the worth, the value of the uncompleted dictionary. Is a dictionary half-completed worth anything at all? There seems to be an idea abroad that the worth of a dictionary may be judged in some kind of inverse ratio to the degree of completion. Such may perhaps be the case with a work of art, a poem, for instance, the object of which is to create in the reader an emotional state or to carry him through a series of emotional experiences of which the outcome is a certain emotional equilibrium, a certain harmony of feeling. The whole must exist before the parts can produce their proper impression, and in a work of art incompleteness is a form of imperfection. In a business enterprise to stop half-way may be to make y^our last state worse than your first. But such is not the case with a dictionary. The worth of a dictionary half-completed is only a little less than one-half the worth of the same dictionary in a finished state. The completed portion of the Chaucer Dictionary can be used by scholars, for whom it was of course primarily intended, almost as well as if the whole were in existence.^ * The dictionary will be carried on by Dr. Tatlock. ^ Of course, it cannot be effectively used for the study of groups of words of similar or related meanings unless by good fortune the group chances to fall within the first seven letters of the alphabet. DR. FLUGEL AS A SCHOLAR — BRIGGS 45 Were there no prospect of a single page being added to the existing manuscript, Dr. Flugel's labors would still have been well spent. Dr. Fliigel had at various times a good deal of assistance, but until recently, when Dr. Kennedy began to help him in a way for which Dr. Fliigel found words of very high praise, that assistance was entirely of a clerical nature. He was occasionally able to utilize his graduate students in the study of special problems and in the examination of related litera- ture, yet the most they could do was to provide material which only he could work up into shape. Of copyists and writers-out of slips he neces- sarily had many at various times, for the personal and unaided collection of the material would have been impossible. Nevertheless, he did him- self an incredible amount of work of just this kind, for these copyists were of various sorts, and a good deal of what some of them did he practically had to do over again. The total amount of material finally got together amounted to something over one million five hundred thous- and slips, in addition to large collections of a collateral nature. This material he was casting into shape with remarkable rapidity. In the six months from December, 1913, to June, 1914, he worked through thirty thousand of these slips. As nearly as I have been able to calculate, the dictionary is about seven-sixteenths finished; Dr. Fliigel was at work on the word 'hewe' at the time of his death. Most of this manuscript is practically ready for press, but he intended to subject it all to a final looking-over, and there are a few articles not yet supplied. Why was not the manuscript pubUshed as it was prepared, since the Carnegie Foundation stood ready to undertake the work? There were several reasons for Dr. Fliigel's course in this matter. In the first place, there were problems connected with the actual printing that could not easily be solved, and into which it is not necessary to go on this occasion. Secondly, as I have elsewhere pointed out. Dr. Fliigel had for some time realized that the work might be interrupted in just the way it actually was, and naturally desired to expend all of his energy and time upon that part to which his learning and experience were indispensable. The print- ing could, if necessary, be supervised by others. The preparation of the copy demanded him. The third reason can perhaps be best given in words taken from his open letter to Weir Mitchell in 1913. "You may ask now what others are asking me almost every week, when the whole of my book will be accessible in printed shape, and here again I answer, and, I hope, not evasively, that, at this early stage and before the whole MS. shall be completed, I cannot consider even the printing. 46 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME "I have now about three days weekly for the MS. work, and the MS. so far completed would fill at least two quarto volumes of one thousand pages each (with three columns to the page).*^ If I should now, in order to publish two such volumes in reasonable time, receive weekly the proofs of only thirty columns (ten pages), the mere careful proofreading of thousands of quotations would take the daylight of, at least, two days, leaving me only one day for new MS. ! This would delay the finishing of the MS. in such a way that twenty-one years would elapse, instead of the seven on which I count. "Ergo, the whole question of printing now and under my present conditions cannot be considered by me. Fata viani invenient. In six or seven years (if I live) with one or two excellent proof-readers continu- ously engaged for this work, and with better-schooled printers than can be found, at least in this western part of the United States, the book might and, I hope, will be 'rushed' through the press as fast as the wheels can move." At one time, some years ago, Dr. Fliigel gave me an account of his plan that made it evident that then he had something more even than a Chaucer dictionary in mind ; he then intended to make his work a dic- tionary of Middle English for the vocabulary of Chaucer, in which Gower, Wiclif, Trevisa, Langland, and Hoccleve should be second in importance only to Chaucer himself, and in which the less important writers should receive proportionate attention. One might infer from the language of his remarks to Furnivall in the article above referred to that he had abandoned this project, but I have reason to think that he was unduly modest in that description of his revised plan and that he had not changed his design to quite the extent that might be supposed. In deaUng with each of Chaucer's words, Dr. Fliigel's object was to place on record every fact about it that could possibly be of interest to scholars. Thus any peculiarity of form exhibited in any of the MSS. or early editions was set down.'' The various spellings that the MSS. exhibited were classified and their relative numbers given as accurately as possible. DifiFerences of pronunciation, metrical peculiarities, peculiar- ities of rime, were similarly treated. The history of each word, whether of English or foreign parentage, was minutely investigated in its native haunts, for Dr. Fliigel realized to the full that shades of meaning dis- * Dr. Fliigel means the MS. of A, B, C, D, E. The finished dictionary would then fill about six such volumes. 'For a list of the MSS. and early editions consulted, see the article entitled Prolegomena and Side-notes, 1911. DR. FLUGEL AS A SCHOLAR — BRIGGS 47 played by a borrowed word can often be explained only by the shades of meaning that it bore originally. He saw also what not all lexicog- raphers have clearly perceived, that illustrative quotations should be sufficiently full. When only a line is given, a particular word contained in it will often seem to have a meaning quite different from that which it bears when a passage of three, four, or five lines confronts us. Remote context is sometimes quite as important as immediate. I have more than once heard Dr. Fliigel complain that he often found the quotations on his slips too short, and that he was constantly com- pelled to resort to the original and himself add what was necessary in order to make the quotations adequately illustrative. Yet another feature of his method that must not be passed over was the care with which he ascertained the exact chronological order in which the various mean- ings of a given word made their appearance in its development. Obvious- ly, if this chronology be misstated, the intellectual history of the race is to that extent falsified. I can remember several instances in which he pointed out to me that in the New English Dictionary just this error had been made, and the history of a given word inverted. Sometimes, it may be noted, the mistake was made just because the quotation supplied by the copyist was not long enough, and so the word in the particular passage was not rightly understood. And I can also remember what a source of innocent delight it was to Dr. Fliigel to discover, as he not in- frequently did, earlier quotations than those in that great work, and thus to antedate the word and lengthen its history.* Sir Philip Sidney, with characteristically pregnant phrase, wrote 'Several sample extracts from the Chaucer Dictionary were printed by Dr. Fliigel in the Matske Memorial Volume and in Anglia for 191 1 and 1913. These articles differ from one another, however, in some points that make it not quite clear in just what form the material would have finally appeared. Thus in the Matzke volume, though he tells us that the article is from the dictionary, many footnotes are employed, and Dr. Kennedy informs me that Dr. Flugel more than once spoke of inserting footnotes in the dictionary. But in an article printed later and headed 'Specimens of the Chaucer Dictionary,' no footnotes are found, and I am inclined to think that he had given up the idea. At least no material appears to be thrown into footnotes in the MS. Again, in the article addressed to Furnivall he used language indicating that the article is made up of 'raw material,' 'which would become antiquated in a short time' and which he intended to exclude. Yet Dr. Kennedy again tells me that he cannot see that the illustrative pieces in this article differ at all from the finished MS. I think that the explanation of at least some of these apparent discrepancies may very probably be found in the suggestion that in these various articles he was experimenting somewhat as to the best method of presentation. 48 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME once of "this purifying of wit, this enriching^ of memory, enabhng of judgment, and enlarging of conceit, which commonly we call learning." Yet even more than this passage suggests did Dr. IHiigel enlist in the service of his chief work every element in a richly compounded person- ality. Upon the dryest and most unpromising details, upon the very drudgery of his profession, he brought enthusiastically to bear all the facets of his intellect, all the highly developed powers of his mind, fructi- fying his labor with sympathy and feeling. Thus what he accompUshed is peculiarly difficult of analysis, because it is an emotional as well as an intellectual product, one in which the various elements fuse and inter- penetrate. Familiar with the most exacting methods of scientific inves- tigation, he shrank from no labor in applying them in all their elaborate fullness of intricate detail. Yet the mechanics of his profession, which to so many scholars furnish practically their sole means of achieving results, were for him in no sense all-sufficient. A sound methodology is indispensable to the student ; of equal importance, however, are tact and discretion in its use, insight, that power of discriminating interpretation that, in so far as it is not an innate faculty, is the fruit of character and emotional education. When all of these combine to produce a work of scholarship, the result cannot be easily dissected, any more than a work of literature or art. Often, as in the case of a dictionary, the results of the complex critical process may be visible only in the shape of separate bits of information, which, to the laity, appear the outcome merely of a methodically directed industry. So in the case of the Chancer Dictionary, it is easy to state the plan, the scope, the purpose, and the method. It would be less easy, though still not difficult, to convey some idea of the patience, the diligence, the fortitude with which the labor was carried on. But I should despair of making plain to anyone but the adept the subtle way in which every finer and more delicate quality of Dr. Flugel's mind and heart was utilized to discharge what was at bottom a task de- manding not merely philological skill, but literary sensitiveness, not mere- ly accumulated knowledge, but all the higher powers of the critic of poetry. "To readers familiar with such studies, no comment is necessary, and to those who are unfamiliar with them, no form of statement can convey even a faint impression of the industry, the acumen, and the literary skill which these processes required." " * From Kittredge's memorial article on Child. BIBLIOGRAPHY 1884. Eine Erinnerung an Schonaich. Deutsches Alterthum. 1885. Zu Goethe's Verhaltnis zu Carlyle. Grencboten, no. 38, Sept. 17. 1887. Thomas Carlyle's ReHgiose und Sittliche Entwicklung und Welt- anschauung. Der Briefwechsel zwischen Goethe und Carlyle. Grensboten, no. 15, April 7. 1889. Pyramys and Tysbe. Anglia, XII, 13. Liedersammlungen des 16. Jahrhunderts, besonders aus der zeit Heinrich's VIII. Anglia, XII, 225, 585, and XXVI, 94. Ein Brief Emersons. Anglia, XII, 454. 1 89 1. Thomas Carlyle's Moral and Religious Development. From the German by Jessica Gilbert Tyler. Verschollene Sonette. Anglia, XIII, 72. Kleine Mitteilungen zur Litteraturgeschichte des 16. Jahrhunderts. Anglia, XIII, 455. Beiblatt zur Anglia. Erster Band. Founded by Dr. Fliigel in 1890. Dean Colet und die griindung der St. Paulsschule. Anglia Bei- blatt, I, 27s, 292, 330. 1892. Die Gedichte der Konigin Elizabeth. Anglia, XIV, 346. Kleinere Mitteilungen aus Handschriften. Anglia, XIV, 463. 1894. Englische Weihnachtslieder aus einer Handschrift des Baliol Col- lege zu Oxford. Forschungen zur Deutschen Philologie: Festgabe fi'ir Rudolph Hildebrand, 52. 1895. Neuenglisches Lesebuch. Band I. Review of Skeat's Chaucer. Dial, Feb. 16. 1896. Die Handschriftliche Uberlieferung der Gedichte von Sir Thomas Wyatt. Anglia, XVIII, 263, 455, and XIX. 175, 413. The Irreverent Doctor Faustus. Anglia, XVIII, 332. Uber einige Stellen aus dem Almagestum CI. Ptolemei bei Chaucer und im Rosenroman. Anglia, XVIII, 133. Some Notes on Chaucer's Prologue. Journal of Germanic Phi- lology, I, 118. 1897. Francis James Child. Anglia Beiblatt, VII, 377. 1898. Zur Chronologic der Englischen Balladen. Anglia, XXI, 312. 50 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME 1899. Sir Philip Sidney's Astrophel and Stella und Defence of Poesie. Nach den altesten Ausgaben mit einer Einleitung iiber Sid- ney's Leben und Werke. Chauceriana Minora. Anglia, XXI, 245. Bacon's Historia Literaria. Anglia, XXI, 259. Chaucer's Kleinere Gedichte. Anglia, XXII, 510, continued in XXIII, 195. Middle English in the High School. Proceedings Southern Cali- fornia Teachers' Association, VIII, 138. 1901. Nicholas Udall's Dialogues and Interludes. An English Miscel- lany presented to Dr. Furnivall in Honour of his Seventy- fifth Birthday, 81. Zu Chaucer's Prolog zu C. T. Anglia, XXIII, 225. Shelley's Sophocles. Anglia, XXIV, 436. Gower's Mirour de rOmme und Chaucer's Prolog. Anglia, XXIV, 437. 1902. Roger Bacon's Stellung in der Geschichte der Philologie. Philo- sophische Studien, XIX, 164. A British Academy. New York Nation, April 10, 287. 1903. Nicholas Udall. Roister Doister. Representative English Com- edies, 1903, 87. Carlyle und Eckermann. Goethe Jahrhuch, XXIV, 4. References to the English Language in the German Literature of the First Half of the Sixteenth Century. Modern Philology, I, 5. Caxton's Old English Words. Modern Philology, I, 343. Commencement Address. Daily Palo Alto, May 25. 1904. Henry Bradshaw : Librarian and Scholar. Library Journal, XXIX, 409. 1905. Eine Mittelenglische Claudian-Ubersetzung. Anglia, XXVIII, 255, 421. 1906. Die Katastrophe in San Francisco. Illiistrierte Zeitung, May 3. Der Erdbebenschaden an der Stanford Universitat bei San Fran- cisco. Reclams Universum, XXII, 849. 1907. Die Nordamerikanische Literatur. R. Wiilker's Geschichte der Englischen Literatur, second edition. A New Collation of the EUesmere MS. Anglia, XXX, 401. 1909. Die alteste Englische Akademie. Anglia, XXXII, 261. 1910. Frederick James Furnivall. Fin Nachruf. Anglia, XXXIII, 527. BIBLIOGRAPHY 5I 191 1. Prolegomena and Side-notes of the Chaucer Dictionary. Anglia, XXXIV, 354. Benedicitee. Matcke Memorial Volume, 94. Frederick James Furnivall. Frederick James Furnivall, A Volume of Personal Record, 205. 1913. Lucy Toulmin Smith. Ein Nachruf. Anglia, XXXVII, 277. Specimens of the Chaucer Dictionary, Letter E. Anglia, XXXVII, 497.^ ' No attempt has been made to list Dr. Flugel's numerous minor contributions to Anglia Beiblatt. THE "COMEDIA QUE TRATA DEL RESCATE DEL ALMA" AND THE "GAYFEROS" BALLADS Clifford Gilmore Allen THE RELATION of the Spanish drama to the ballad literature has been discussed by Don Ramon Menendez Pidal in his work entitled U epopee castillane a travers la litterature espagnole. In regard to the religious drama he says (p. 238) that the autos sacramentales in the first years of the seventeenth century were in close relations with the romancero, that in the earliest autos the ballads were almost always placed in the mouths of the comic characters or bobos, but in the seventeenth century the autos incorporated the ballads in the action, giving them a religious interpretation. Of this latter class of autos he cites La Venta de la Zarzuela and La locura par la honra by Lope de Vega, and La S err ana de Plasencia and El villano en su rineon by Valdivielso. This paper deals with an auto which gives a religious interpretation to a series of old ballads, and which is considerably older than the autos cited by Menendez Pidal. The auto is found in Ms. No. 14864 of the Biblioteca Nacional at Madrid. The manuscript contains eleven autos sacramentales and, also. La gran comedia de los hechos de Mudarra. The auto in question is the second of the manuscript. The end of the manuscript bears the date of 1582. This is evidently the date when it was written. The autos are anonymous, and their dates probably corre- spond to the dates of the works in the collection published by Rouanet, the Coleccion de autos, farsas y coloquios del siglo XV L Only one auto is dated, the eighth, the Auto sacramental del testamento de Crista, hecho a debocion de la sancta yglesia de Toledo, que la mando componer en el aiio 1382. The auto studied here, then, is as early as 1582 and may be considerably earlier. The ballads on which the auto is based are the ballads of Don Gay- feros. The ballads concerning him are found in Wolf's Primavera y flor de romances (reprinted by Menendez y Pelayo in the Antologia de poetas liricos castellanos) , in Duran's Romancero general (vol. 10, p. 246 of the Biblioteca de autores espcmoles), etc. In order to explain the relation of the auto to these ballads it will be necessary to state a part of their contents. Gayferos has married Melisendra, the daughter of the Emperor "rESCATE del alma" ALLEN 53 Charlemagne. She has been made prisoner by the Moors and is held by them at Sansuena. Gayferos is seated in Charlemagne's palace play- ing at Tahlas, in one ballad with Oliveros, in another with Guarinos. Charlemagne appears and upbraids Gayferos for playing when he should be rescuing his wife. Gayferos goes to his uncle Roland. He tells how Charlemagne has reproached him. He says he has hunted three years for his wife, and has been unable to find her. He now has neither horse nor arms, and asks Roland to give him his. Roland tells him he has taken oath never to give anyone his arms. Gayferos is indignant. Roland now says that the refusal was only to test him, and wishes to give him his horse and his arms and to accompany him in his under- taking. Gayferos insists on going alone. Roland arms him and he prepares to ride away. At the last moment Roland gives him his won- derful horse and his magic sword. Gayferos refuses to take the time to say farewell to his mother, and sets out, promising not to return to France until he has rescued his wife. Reaching the land of the Moors he curses the wine and the bread. He finally reaches Sansueiia. The king, Almanzor, is at the mosque. A Christian slave directs Gayferos to the palace where Melisendra is imprisoned. He sees her at a window. She does not recognize him, and asks him, if he is going to France, to tell Gayferos of her plight. She fears that he is afraid to come to her rescue, or that he now loves some other woman, as it is easy to forget those who are absent for those who are present. She asks him then to tell Oliveros or Roland, or the emperor, her father, as the Moors wish her to marry a Moorish king. Gayferos tells her who he is, and she comes down to him. The alarm is given and the city gates closed, but the horse on which both are mounted leaps the city walls. The Moors pursue and surround them. Gayferos leave his wife in a thicket, and, turning against the Moors, slaughters vast numbers of them with Roland's wonderful sword. The rest of the Moors return to the city and Gayferos and his wife go on unharmed. They reach France and meet Gayferos' cousin, Montesinos. Other knights, as well as vari- ous ladies, join their party. They finally reach Paris, where they are met by Charlemagne and several of the peers. The emperor embraces his daughter, and the peers hold Gayferos in great esteem because he has rescued his wife. This situation of Gayferos is exploited in several ballads which moralize on the risk a husband runs who does not protect his wife as he should, or who stays away from her presence. The auto in question, beginning on folio 19^ of the manuscript. 54 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME bears the title Segunda comedia, que trata del rescate del alma. Son ynterlocutores Dios Padre y Crista, el Spiritu Sane to, el demonio, el mundo, la came, el alma, el amor divino, un angel, la es per ansa. It is a religious interpretation of the episode of the rescue of MeHsendra by Gayferos. The plot of the auto, with its relation to the ballads, is as follows : The soul, which at times is given the name of MeHsendra, is the wife of Christ, who is frequently called the divine Gayferos. She is the prisoner of the world, the flesh and the devil, who correspond to the Moors. She is exiled from the Paris of Paradise in the France of Heaven, and is lamenting in a dungeon in infierno, which corresponds to the land of the Moors. She tells her tears to say to God that she has tried for five thousand years to regain her lost glory, and to ask him to come to her rescue. She tells her sighs to say to God that he has for- gotten her, and for this reason she is suffering. This seems to be an echo of Melisendra's complaint to the knight who turns out later to be her husband. Now Christ and divine love appear. Divine love addresses Christ as divine Don Gayferos, and challenges him to a game of tablas. This is the game at which Gayferos is playing in the ballads when Charle- magne appears and upbraids him for not rescuing his wife. Christ asks at what tablas they are to play. Divine love says at the tablas of his law. Whatever divine love gains he promises to give to the man who will keep Christ's law. They play, and divine love wins. Christ now prepares to pay his debt. At this point God the father and the Holy Spirit appear. God the father corresponds to the Charle- magne of the ballads. He addresses Christ as Gayferos, and, as Charle- magne rebukes his son-in-law for not going to the rescue of MeHsendra, so God rebukes his son. It is no time, he says, to play at tablas. His wife, the soul, is caUing him. He should put on his armor, as her salva- tion depends on him. As he has given his word to his wife, he should not forget her. It should not be said in beautiful France (i. e., in heaven) that Gayferos does not protect his wife. It should not be said that God has forgotten MeHsendra (i. e., the soul). Christ responds that he has loved his wife from the beginning. If he has stayed so long in the royal dwelHng it has been because Adam destroyed the arms received of God (his innocence?), but if love will give Christ his arms the latter will not rest until he has rescued his wife from hell. In the ballads Gayferos has lent his arms to his cousin Montesinos, and asks his uncle Roland for his. Here Gayferos also promises never to return without his wife. "rESCATE del alma" — ALLEN 55 The Holy Spirit then promises to arm him and accompany him on his journey. Christ swears that if he once puts on these arms he will not take them off until Melisendra is free. Gayferos in the ballads makes the same promise. God the father now leaves the stage, and Christ in a monologue speaks of the sorrows he will have to undergo in accomplishing his task. This monologue has little or no relation to the ballads. An angel now brings him a cross and a shield on which are repre- sented the insignia of the passion. These are to be his arms. The angel ex- plains them one by one. Christ's sword is to be the floggings, the thorns and the nails. His banner is to be the cross. The battle is to be for the redemption of the soul. The idea of the arms comes from the description of the arms which Gayferos receives from his uncle Roland. Christ consents to everything in order to free the soul. The flesh now appears and asks what these strange arms mean, the invincible shield and the cross. Christ says that with them he is to rescue his beloved wife who is imprisoned by a Moor (i. e., the devil). Christ departs and the flesh decides to go and tell the news to Lucifer. The soul now appears. She laments her hard fate, and calls on her husband to come to her aid. Finally she is weary and falls asleep. Hope appears and decides not to awaken her, but to tell her in a dream that God is coming to rescue her. This she does, and the soul awakes rejoicing. The flesh has told the devil of the warrior who is coming to rescue the soul. The devil fears that this is the promised Messiah, and they decide to put the soul in double chains. Christ now appears, and, addressing himself as a valiant soldier, exhorts himself to be courageous and to do the work which God has assigned to him. He reaches the "infernal house" where the soul is. The latter appears at a window. The following scene is copied more or less directly from the ballads. The soul does not recognize Christ, as Melisendra in the corresponding scene fails to recognize Gayferos. The soul thinks that Christ is a Chris- tian captive like herself, and prays that God may give him his liberty. Dios OS ponga en lihertad. In the ballads Gayferos meets a Christian slave and inquires for Melisendra. The slave thinks he also is a Christian captive, and says: Dios te salve el cristiano, y te tome en lihertad. In a long conversation which follows, Christ tells the soul that he 56 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME was born in France in the city of Paris. The author is following his sources even too closely, but it is el Paris del paraiso and la Francia del cielo. The soul tells him if he returns to Paris to ask for Gayferos. Si a Francia ydes por Gayferos preguntad. Melisendra uses the same words in the ballads, but the soul goes on to say that she is asking for el divino Gayferos. Tell him, she says, that his wife sends to make a request. Direysle que la sii esposa se r enbia a comendar. In the ballads Melisendra says : Decidle que la su esposa se r envia a encomendar. The soul says to tell her husband that it is time that he came to rescue her. Direisle a mi amor qu es tiempo de me benir a sacar. In the ballad Melisendra says : Que ya me parece tiem^po que la debia sacar. He should not let her die in the hands of the enemy, and those who are absent should not be forgotten for those who are present. que ausentes por presentes no se deben olvidar. In the ballads Melisendra says : Los ausentes por los presentes lijeros son de olvidar. Christ now tells her that she is telling this to her own husband, and "rESCATE del alma" ALLEN 57 thus reveals his identity. In the ballads Gayferos tells Melisendra she can deliver her own message, as he is Gayferos. The soul then goes on to tell Christ of the visit of the flesh to hell. From this point the auto is independent of the ballads, and is more or less closely related to the Bible account. The soul leaves the window. Christ laments his fate, but declares his death will be her salvation. His flesh is weak and he does not wish to die, but the Lord's will must be done. Now the world, the flesh and the devil appear and plan to win the soul back again. Christ comes back, having risen from the dead. He explains to the soul all he has suffered for her, and the soul promises never to forget, and is baptized. Christ then tells the soul that he must go, but that, at the same time, he will stay with her in the holy sacrament of the euchar- ist. Christ then departs and the soul continues giving thanks for the sacrament, by which she is made, instead of a miserable slave, a friend of God. This auto, then, is a religious interpretation of the rescue of Melisen- dra by Gayferos. The soul is Melisendra. It is the prisoner of the world, the flesh and the devil. These correspond to the Moors. Christ is Gayferos, and is rebuked for his negligence by God, who corresponds to Charlemagne. He rescues the soul and brings it back to paradise, which corresponds to Paris. He receives arms of divine love, which corresponds to Roland. The circumstances in which Christ meets the soul are those in which Gayferos finds Melisendra, etc., etc. The author adds considerable matter, either original or taken from the Bible; but the main plot is taken directly from the ballads. As the author of the ofiito follows so closely the story told in the ballads, it seems surprising that he does not introduce more direct quota- tions. The fact that he does not is probably due to the verse forms which he uses. In the auto we have six series of redondillas, two of quiniillas, four of octaves, one of tercets, and one of verses in arte mayor, with one scene in prose. In no case does the author use the ballad verse. Accordingly considerable ingenuity was necessary for the introduction of these verses from the ballads. The author could never introduce more than two of the short ballad verses at one time. These he quotes invari- ably when he is writing redondillas. The two ballad verses make half of the redondilla, to which he must add two verses of his own composi- tion, with the necessary rhymes. In the first case he adapts the second line from the ballad, and adds three verses. 58 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME Christ. . . . hermosa dama. The Soul. Dios os ponga en lihertad. Christ. Y de hesa captibidad libre os tea quien os ama. In the second, third, fourth and fifth cases the author adopts the third and fourth hnes from the ballads and adds the first two lines as follows. The Soul. Ay yngrata voluntad, ay lengua y coma te ynpides. . . si a Francia ydes por Gayferos preguntad. The Soul. Y si mas largo ablar no fuera cosa enfadosa direysle que la su esposa se I'enbia a comendar. The Soul. Y pues que me quereis dar tal alibio y pasatiempo, dircisle a mi amor qu'es tiempo de me benir a sacar. The Soul. Dile, asi te beas gozar lo que de mi pena sientes, que ausentes por presentes no se deb en olvidar. Doubtless the author quoted only from memory, as these ballads were especially well known ; but even then the difficulties in versification make these quotations less frequent than they would have been otherwise. The auto studied here, then, is of interest, as it gives an example considerably earlier than any hitherto cited, of a religious drama based on the old ballad literature. The literary value of the work is much the same as that of others of its class. Many of the lines are prosaic and monotonous, while others are of real merit. Doubtless it will interest most those who are study- ing the development of the religious drama in Spain. "CYNTHIA'S REVELS" AND SENECA William Dinsmore Briggs IN THIS paper an attempt is made to indicate the nature and extent of Ben Jonson's indebtedness to Seneca in the composition of Cynthia's Revels. The quotations from the play are from the FoHo of 1616. In the long speech by Crites in 1, v, rebuking the madness of those who practise vice and folly, many of the sentiments remind one of Seneca, but the passage following is clearly taken from him. O how despisde and base a thing is a man, If he not striue t'erect his groueling thoughts Aboue the straine of flesh ! But how more cheape When, euen his best and vnderstanding part, . . . Floates like a dead drown'd bodie, on the streame Of vulgar humour, mixt with commonst dregs? Seneca, Nat. Quaest., I, prologus 5 : "O quam res est contempta homo, nisi supra humana surrexerit! quamdiu cum adfectibus conluctamur, quid magnifici facimus?" In II, iii, 127 if., occurs the character-sketch of Crites delivered by Mercury. "A creature of a most perfect and diuine temper. One, in whom the humours and elements are peaceably met, without emulation of precedencie: he is neyther to phantastikely melancholy, too slowly phlegmaticke, too lightly sanguine, or too rashly cholericke, but in all, so composde & order'd, as it is cleare. Nature went about some ful worke, she did more then make a man, when she made him. His discourse is like his behauiour, vncommon, but not vnpleasing; hee is prodigall of neyther. Hee striues rather to bee that which men call iudicious, then to bee thought so : and is so truly learned, that he affects not to shew it, Hee will thinke, and speake his thought, both freely : but as distant from deprauing another mans merit, as proclaiming his owne. For his valour, tis such, that he dares as Httle to offer an iniurie, as receiue one. In summe, he hath a most ingenuous and sweet spirit, a sharp and season'd wit, a straight iudgment, and a strong mind. Fortune could neuer breake him, nor make him lesse. He counts it his pleasure, to despise pleas- ures, and is more delighted with good deeds, then goods. It is a com- 6o FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME petencie to him that hee can bee vertuous. He doth neyther couet nor feare ; hee hath too much reason to doe eyther : and that commends all things to him. "Cvp. Not better then Mercury commends him. "Mer. O, Cvpid, tis beyond my deitie to giue him his due prayses : I could leaue my place in heauen, to line among mortals, so I were sure to be no other then he." In the first few lines of this passage Crites is described as one in whom the humors are properly balanced. There is at first sight nothing in this that would seem to direct us especially to Seneca, for of course the physiological doctrine of the origin of character in accordance with the predominance of the various bodily fluids (themselves definitely re- lated to the four elements) was orthodox medical doctrine in Jonson's day. But in the study of Jonson's treatment of character, no attention, so far as I know, has been paid to the fact that this doctrine is stated with the utmost explicitness in a classical author for whom Jonson had the greatest respect and from whose writings he drew a very large amount of material, only a portion of which has hitherto been pointed out. I make no apology, therefore, for quoting in full chapter xix of the De Ira, book ii. "Opportunissima ad iracundiam fervidi animi natura est. nam cum elementa sint quatuor, ignis, aquae, aeris, terrae, potestates pares his sunt, fervida, frigida, arida atque humida. et locorum itaque et ani- malium et corporum et morum varietates mixtura elementorum facit et proinde in aliquos magis incumbunt ingenia, prout alicuius elementi maior vis abundavit. inde quasdam humidas vocamus aridasque regiones et calidas et f rigidas. Eadem animalium hominumque discrimina sunt : refert quantum quisque humidi in se calidique contineat. cuius in illo ele- menti portio praevalebit, inde mores erunt. iracundos fervida animi natu- ra faciet : est enim actuosus et pertinax ignis, f rigidi mixtura timidos facit: pigrum est enim contractumque frigus. Volunt itaque quidam ex nostris iram in pectore moveri effervescente circa cor sanguine, causa cur hie potissimum adsignetur irae locus, non alia est, quam quod in toto corpore calidissimum pectus est. Quibus humidi plus inest, eorum pau- latim crescit ira, quia non est paratus illis calor, sed motu adquiritur. itaque puerorum feminarumque irae acres magis quam graves sunt levi- oresque dum incipiunt. siccis aetatibus vehemens robustaque ira est, sed sine incremento, non multum sibi adiciens, quia inclinatum calorem frigus insequitur. senes difficiles et queruli sunt, ut aegri et convalescentes et quorum aut lassitudine aut detractione sanguinis exhaustus est calor. In eadem causa sunt siti fameque rabidi et quibus exsangue corpus est "Cynthia's revels" and senega — briggs 6i maligneque alitur et deficit, vinum incendit iras, quia calorem auget pro cuiusque natura. quidam ebrii effervescunt, quidam saucii. neque ulla alia causa est, cur iracundissimi sint flavi rubentesque, quibus talis natura. color est, qualis fieri ceteris inter iram solet. mobilis enim illis agitatusque sanguis est." In all this Seneca was of course making no original contri- bution to philosophy,^ but, as Jonson lay under so great a debt to Seneca in so many ways, the passage is worth notice in this connection. It may also be observed that, though Plutarch, from whom likewise Jonson drew much, mentions in his essay Concerning the Cure of Anger the proneness of women, sick men, and old men to become angry, he does not refer it to any such physical cause, but rather to a certain mean-spiritedness and weakness of soul (Translation of 1870, I, 43). When Mercury says that Nature in making Crites did more than make a man, and, later on, that he would be willing to become mortal if he could be certain to be another Crites, he is simply giving expression in various ways to one of Stoicism's most prominent ideas. The sapiens, as Seneca is never weary of saying, is above mankind in general and on a level with, nay, even above the gods themselves. De Providentia, vi, 6 : "ferte fortiter. hoc est quo deum antecedatis: ille extra patientiam malorum est, vos supra patientiam." And Ep. Ixxiii, 12^.: "Solebat Sextius dicere, lovem plus non posse quam bonum virum: plura lupiter habet, quae praestet hominibus, sed inter duos bonos non est melior, qui locupletior. . . . lupiter quo antecedit virum bonum? diutius bonus est : sapiens nihilo se minoris aestimat, quod virtutes eius spatio breviore cluduntur." And Ep. liii, 11 : "Est aliquid, quo sapiens antecedat deum: ille beneficio naturae non timet, suo sapiens." In the last six lines of Mercury's first speech, Jonson has in mind the following passages. De Vita Beata, iv, 2 : "ut beatum dicamus hominem eum, cui nullum bonum malumque sit nisi bonus malusque animus : honesti cultor, virtute contentus, quem nee extollant fortuita nee frangant, qui nullum mains bonum eo quod sibi ipse dare potest noverit, cui vera voluptas erit voluptatum contemptio." Ihid., v, i : "potest beatus dici, qui nee cupit nee timet beneficio rationis." Ihid., vi,2 : "beatus est is, cui omnem habitum rerum suarum ratio commendat." As for the sentence that his valor dares as little to ofTer an injury as to receive one (with which should be compared New Inn, IV, iv, 55, "Feare to doe base, vnworthy things, is valour," and Underwoods Ixxxix, * Arnold, Roman Stoicism, 191 1, 244, thinks that this theory was "probably not specifically Stoic, but derived from the Greek physicians." 62 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME "No, it is the law Of daring not to do a wrong"), I cannot find that Seneca expresses the idea in quite that way, but it was impHcit in the Stoic definition of 'fortitude,' as given in Cicero, De Officiis, I, xix: "Itaque probe definitur a Stoicis fortitudo, cum earn virtutem esse dicunt propugnantem pro aequitate." Hence Cicero goes on to say: "Nihil enim honestum esse potest, quod iustitia vacet," and concludes the paragraph by remarking: "Itaque viros fortes, magnanimos, eosdem bonos et simplices, veritatis amicos, minimeque fallaces, esse volumus : quae sunt ex media laude iustitiae." As I have pointed out elsewhere (Mod. Phil., X, 573 ff.)* Jonson's 'valor' was the Stoic 'forti- tude,' and as the latter must be characterized by justice, so must the former. When saying that Crites strives rather to be judicious than seem so, Jonson is expressing a thought like that in Epigram cix : Thou rather striu'st the matter to possesse. And elements of honor, then the dresse, and may in both cases be indebted to Cicero, ibid. :"Vera autem et sapiens animi magnitudo honestum illud, quod maxime natura sequitur, in factis positum, non in gloria, iudicat : principemque se esse mavult, quam videri." The same idea, however, is in Aeschylus, Seven against Thebes, 591 [581], as quoted by Plutarch (Transl. 1870, I, 210-21 1) with reference to Aristides.^ So in Aristotle, AHc. Ethics, the high- minded man will "care for reality more than for reputation" (Welldon's' transl., p. 117). In III, ii, 19 fif., Hedon says of Crites : "Gods precious, this afflicts mee more then all the rest, that wee should so particularly direct our hate, and contempt against him, and hee to carrie it thus without wound, or passion! 'tis insufferable." Seneca tells us, De Contumelia, x, 3: "sapiens a nullo contemnitur. magnitudinem suam novit . . . et omnis has, quas non miserias animorum, sed molestias dixerim, non vincit, sed ne sentit quidem." The whole of this tract of Seneca is built up on this fundamental doctrine of the Stoics, and elsewhere he gives frequent expression to this and to related ideas. While we are on the subject of the invulnerability of the sapiens, it * For the frequency of the 'antithesis of seeming and being' in classical litera- ture, see the note on the passage in Aeschylus in T. G. Tucker's ed. of the Seven against Thebes, 1908. He quotes Sallust, Cat. liv, esse quam videri bonus malebat. "cYNTHIA's revels" and SENECA BRIGGS 63 will be worth while to observe that a number of the lines in the Apolo- getical Dialogue affixed to the Poetaster have their source in Seneca. The Fates haue not spun him the coursest thred That (free from knots of perturbation) Doth yet so Hue, although but to himselfe, As he can safely scornc the tongues of slaues ; And neglect Fortune, more then she can him. It is the happiest thing, this not to be Within the reach of malice ; It prouides A man so well, to laugh of iniuries : And neuer sends him farder for his vengeance Then the vex'd bosome of his enemy. I, now, but thinke, how poor their spight sets ofiF, Who, after all their waste of sulphurous tearmes, And burst-out thunder of their charged mouthes, Haue nothing left, but the vnsau'ry smoake Of their blacke vomit, to vpbrayd themselues : Whilst I, at whom they shot, sit here shot- free, And as vn-hurt of enuy, as vnhit. All this is pure Seneca in thought. Compare the whole of the Dc Con- tumelia, but more particularly the following passages : IX, 3 : "caret autem perturbatione vir erectus . . . caret autem ira sapiens, quam excitat iniuriae species, nee ahter careret ira nisi et iniuria, quam scit sibi non posse fieri : inde tarn erectus laetusque est, inde continuo gaudio elatus." I, 2: "Stoici virilem ingressi viam . . . curae habent . . . ut quamprimum nos eripiat et in ilium editum verticem educat, qui adeo extra omnem teli iactum surrexit, ut supra fortunam emineat." VIII, 3 : "Non habet ubi accipiat iniuriam. ab homine me tantum dicere putas ? ne a fortuna quidem . . ." X, 4 : "haec vero minora ne sentit quidem nee adversus ea solita ilia virtute utitur dura tolerandi, sed aut non adnotat aut digna risu putat." XII, 3 : "Non immerito itaque horum contumelias sapiens ut iocos accipit." Ill, 3 : "Involnerabile est non quod non feritur, sed quod non laeditur : ex hac tibi nota sapientem exhibebo." In this last case, to be sure, Jonson has altered the thought slightly, but in its original form he employs it in the New Inn (see the article referred to above) and in Underwoods xliv. One or two other borrowings in this dialogue may be mentioned. When in 1. 37 Jonson speaks of the absurdity of those who think that all are aimed at, still are struck, he is expressing metaphorically the con- 64 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME stantly recurring idea of Seneca that though enemies may attempt to injure the wise man, yet he does not feel those injuries. When in ii. 165-6 he says that it is a feminine humor and far beneath the dignity of a man to pursue these temporal plagues, he may have in mind, in addition to the lines from Juvenal mentioned by Gifford and Mallory, such a passage as De dementia, I, v, 5 : "magni autem animi est proprium, placidum esse tranquillumque et iniurias offensionesque superne despicere. Muliebre est furere in ira," for in the next two lines, where he says that to revenge injuries is to confess you feel them, he is certainly making use of De Ira, III, v, 8: "Ultio doloris confessio est" (which he also used in the Sejanus). Ill, iii, consists entirely of a long soliloquy by Crites, of which I give here the parts that are of special interest: Doe, good detraction, doe, and I the while Shall shake thy spight off with a carelesse smile. *********** What should I care what euery dor doth buzze In credulous eares? it is a crowne to me. That the best iudgements can report me wrong'd; Them lyars ; and their slanders impudent. Perhaps (vpon the rumour of their speeches) Some grieued friend will whisper to me, Crites, Men speake ill of thee; so they be ill men. If they spake worse, 'twere better : for of such 15 To be disprais'd, is the most perfect praise. What can his censure hurt me, whom the world Hath censur'd vile before me? If good Chrestvs, Evthvs, or Phronimvs, had spoke the words. They would haue moou'd me, and I should haue call'd 20 My thoughts, and actions, to a strict accompt Vpon the hearing: But when I remember, 'Tis Hedon, and Anaides : alasse, then, I thinke but what they are, and am not stirr'd. *********** That talke (as they are wont) not as I merit: Traduce by custome, as most dogges doe barke. Doe nothing out of judgement, but disease, 30 Speake ill, because they neuer could speake well.^ And who'ld be angry with this race of creatures? ' For Marston's reply to this passage, cf. Small, War of the Theatres, 1899, 106. It would be interesting to know whether Marston is simply imitating Jonson, or whether he had the same passages of Seneca in mind. As they are among the Senecan fragments, he may not have known them. "CYNTHIA's revels" and SENECA BRIGGS 65 What wise physician haue we euer scene Moou'd with a frantike man? the same affects That he doth beare to his sicke patient, 35 Should a right minde carrie to such as these : And I doe count it a most rare reuenge, That I can thus (with such a sweet neglect) Plucke from them all the pleasure of their malice. For that's the marke of all their inginous drifts, 40 To wound my patience, howsoe're they seeme To aime at other obiects: which if miss'd. Their enui's like an arrow, shot vpright. That, in the fall, indangers their owne heads. The sentiment of the first two lines is identical with one that we have already considered. The greater part of the rest of the speech is merely an expansion of some passages from the De Remediis Fortuitorum Liber (this exists only in fragments ; for those in which we are interested, see the Teubner edition, III, 450). " 'Male de te opinantur homines.' Sed mali : moverer, si de me Mar- cus [Cicero, si] Cato, si Laelius sapiens, si alter Cato, si Scipiones duo ista loquerentur : nunc malis displicere laudari est. Non potest ullam auctoritatem habere sententia, ubi qui damnandus est, damnat. "'Male de te loquuntur.' Moverer, si hos iudicio facerent: nunc morbo faciunt. non de me loquuntur sed de se. " 'Male de te loquuntur.' Bene enim nesciunt loqui. faciunt non quod mereor, sed quod solent. quibusdam enim canibus sic innatum est, ut non pro feritate sed pro consuetudine latrent." A similar idea, more succinctly stated, occurs in Ep. 113, 32: "et tunc, si sapis, mala opinio bene parta delectet." In 11. 32 ff. other material from Seneca is employed. De Cont., XIII, 1-2: "quis enim phrenetico medicus irascitur? quis febricitantis et a f rigida prohibiti maledicta in malam partem accipit ? Hunc affectum adversus omnis habet sapiens, quem adversus aegros suos medicus." De Ira, I, xv, i : "Corrigendus est itaque, qui peccat .... sed sine ira. quis enim cui medetur irascitur?" De Cont., XVII, 4: "Adice quod genus ultionis est eripere ei, qui fecit, factae contumeliae volupta- tem .... adeo fructus contumeliae in sensu et indignatione pa- tientis est. The same sentiments as those that Crites expresses are also uttered by Horace in Poetaster, V, iii, 471 ff. : Enuy me still, so long as Virgil loues me, Gallvs, Tibvllus, and the best-best Caesar, 66 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME My dear Mecoenas: while these, with many more (Whose names I wisely slip) shall thinke me worthy Their honour'd, and ador'd societie, And reade, and loue, proue, and applaud my poemes; I would not wish but such as you should spight them. So in Ind. to Act I of Every Man out of his Humour. LI. T^y ff. contain the same thought as some lines in the passage quoted earlier from Poetaster. For the simile in 43-4, Jonson may be indebted to Lyly, as Judson suggests, but as for the whole idea, both here and in the Poetaster passage, we may profitably compare, for instance, Plutarch, Hozv to Profit by our Enemies, u. s., I, 285 : "And here may be inserted that wise and facetious answer of Diogenes to one that asked him how he might be revenged of his enemy : The only way, says he, to gall and fret him effectually is for yourself to appear a good and honest man." And on p. 287: "These are allowable returns, and the most cut- ting strokes you can give your enemy ; there being nothing that carries in it more vexation and disgrace, than that scandalous censures should fall back upon the head of him who was the first author of them." In V, vi, 37-8, Arete says: for the heauens Receiue no good of all the good they doe. She is echoing a Stoic sentiment, as in De Ben., IV, ix, i : "plurima bene- ficia ac maxima in nos deus confert sine spe recipiendi, quoniam nee ille collato eget nee nos ei quicquam conferre possumus." In V, xi, 130 ff., Crites says: But there's not one of these, who are vnpain'd, Or by themselues vnpunished : for vice Is like a furie to the vicious minde. And turnes delight it selfe to punishment. Seneca, De Ira, II, xxx, 2 : "et iam sibi dedit [poenas] qui peccavit." Ibid., Ill, xxvi, 2: "maxima est enim factae iniuriae poena fecisse, nee quis- quam gravius adficitur quam qui ad supplicium poenitentiae traditur." Ep. xcvii, 14: "Prima ilia et maxima peccantium est poena, peccasse nee ullum scelus . . . impunitum est, quoniam sceleris in scelere sup- plicium est." So Plutarch, Of the Tranquillity of the Mind, ibid., I, 165 : "Whereas, on the contrary, the being conscious of having done a wicked action leaves stings of remorse behind it, which, like an ulcer in the flesh, "CYNTHIA's revels" and SENECA BRIGGS 6/ makes the mind smart with perpetual wounds," and in a note we are re- ferred to Euripides, Orestes, 396. Even in his dedication Jonson is not far away from Seneca, for when he says, "For, to grace, there should come reuerence ; and no man can call that louely, which is not also venerable," he certainly had in mind Ep. cxv, 3 : "quanta esset cum gratia auctoritas ! nemo illam amabilem, qui non simul venerabilem diceret." The interest possessed for the student of Jonson by these cases of borrowing does not lie merely in the fact that a certain number of items have been added to the long account of the poet's indebtedness to the classics. Two other points of view are more fruitful, because they afford a survey of larger aspects of his work and perhaps a clearer insight into the man himself and his relation to his age. In the first place, there is the very interesting question of the value and meaning of the Stoic ethic for Jonson himself and incidentally for his period, in itself a phase of the still larger question of the amalgamation of pagan philosophy with Christian thought that took place in the days of Elizabeth. This ques- tion, however, I do not propose to take up here. At the moment I desire merely to state the principle of interpretation that will eventually be found most useful in coordinating the multifarious phases of his intellec- tual activity. We rank Jonson, and rightly, among our great dramatists, our great critics, and our great satirists. Yet to understand the man himself and the functions that he conceived himself to fulfill, we must not start from the conception of him as an author, or as a man of letters, or even as a poet in the usual sense. The key to the problem lies in the old doctrine of the votes, the poet-moralist, the poet-teacher. In classical literature there was embodied a very large amount of valuable thought, — thought which the world should not let die, since it was indispensable to the art of life. No doubt some men read and studied the classics diUgently. Yet such men were after all elected spirits. Few perhaps of those that were fluent in the Latin and Greek really applied to the conduct of life the lessons taught by men of old times out of their great experience and their constant reflection. There were few who could divest an idea of its classical associations, and save for their own use or for that of others its really valuable portion, its essential element of permanent truth. And for most men, learning being in such a degenerate state, the classics were a book sealed with seven seals. The translations that lay at their dis- posal gave them, to be sure, the ancient authors in an English dress so far as mere language was concerned, but there was need of a more 68 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME thorough, more far-reaching process of adaptation. Classical thought had developed in a pagan civilization and one which, besides being pagan, was fundamentally different in point of view, in social organization, in manners and customs. It was not easy for the ordinary Englishman to hypostatize the ancients and to conceive of them as real beings living and acting in a real world. Classical thought, then, if it were to be of direct use to modern times, must be as it were mediated, reinterpreted, in such a way as to be readily absorbed by the English reader, just as though it were a native product ; it must be made a part of his intellectual atmos- phere. The reverse of a formal process of exposition was demanded. Neither translation nor treatises would serve the turn. Hence, though perhaps without any consciously formulated purpose, Jonson set himself to read, mark, and inwardly digest the classical authors. In his own phrase, he concocted, divided, and turned all into nourishment, and as a result, eiiis studia abierunt chiium in mores. I believe Jonson would have accepted this description of his literary activity, and I find few phases of that activity that may not be more readily understood by reference to it. The second question is of a different, though of a related character. Who was Crites? In deahng with the War of the Theatres some schol- ars identify Jonson and Crites without hesitation, but others are more conservative. Though realizing that Jonson often speaks through the mouth of Crites and that a certain parallelism may be found between the situation of Crites at Court and Jonson's own situation, yet some of us feel a natural reluctance to believe that Jonson could have intended to say of himself all of the things that he says of Crites. Certainly it w^as a defect of his character that he was in a measure arrogant, that he knew perfectly well and admitted freely that he was a man of great talents and great learning. But Camden and Selden, for all his abilities, would have had little use for a man who meant Mercury's description of Crites, delivered on the pubhc stage, to be understood of himself. Fletcher and Beaumont would have thought him simply ridiculous. He would have been no literary dictator, but the laughing-stock of all the wits. His pride in his own achievements would not then have been regarded by his friends as a pardonable 'Roman infirmity,' meriting at worst an in- dulgent smile or an occasional witty sally. That his enemies should misunderstand him was to be expected. Therein they found their prin- cipal weapon of attack. In other words, we accept, more or less consciously, a distinction that seems not to be often stated, but which if recognized from the begin- "CYNTHIA's revels" and SENECA BRIGGS 69 ning- would perhaps have prevented much controversy and many pseudo- identifications. It is one thing to say that a character in a drama repre- sents or embodies a Uving person. It is another to say that the dramatist in creating the character made use of certain facts of the given person's experience. There are characters, too, which represent individuals only at certain stages in the working-out of the action, but not as regards the play as a whole. The impersonation may even take place only once in the course of the action. In none of these cases, which I make bold to say represent Elizabethan practice in general (there are of course excep- tions), can the character be said to impersonate except momentarily, by fits and starts, and in no such case should we speak of the character as identified with the person except for the moment. We may accept an identification when everything in the character can be explained by ex- amining the person, and when nothing in the person is inconsistent with the features of the character (given the standpoint of the creator), provided always that there is in the first place some reason for suspecting identity and that there are no considerations external to the play that make it unlikely or impossible. Crites, then, is not Jonson except as Jonson in depicting him and his situation utilized facts of his own experience and in flattering Elizabeth and demanding preferment for himself spoke through his mouth. Crites is the Stoic bonus vir, the sapiens, the ideal man, presented under condi- tions of Elizabethan court-life because Jonson is satirizing certain fea- tures of that life, and figured as a scholar and poet because here as throughout his career Jonson is fighting the battle of the scholar and poet. Crites is poor not so much because Jonson is himself poor, but because scholars and poets are always poor, as they have told us from the beginning of recorded time and as they still tell us. A marked acerbity in the utterances of Crites, foreign to those of the true sapiens of Seneca, is accounted for by Jonson's own habits of vigorous speech. In a slightly diflFerent point of view, Crites represents the social group to which Jon- son belonged, and in portraying him Jonson made him conform to the ideal which the great ethical system of the Stoics had evolved. It follows, then, that I cannot altogether agree with Professor Bas- kervill's interpretation of the figure of Crites in his English Elements in Jonson's Early Comedy. In the first place, his parallels with Aristotle (pp. 261-2) must be superseded by the parallels with Seneca given above, more especially in view of the fact that Crites is constantly quot- ing from Seneca and that the similar attitude toward detractors assumed in the Poetaster (and elsewhere) draws so much from the Stoic writer. yo FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME That Jonson had no hesitation in mingling Stoic and Peripatetic doctrine I have ilkistrated in the article previously referred to, but I see no reason for supposing that in the character of Crites Aristotle had any particular share.* Moreover, when Professor Baskervill says, p. 246, that "the ultimate source of Jonson's ethical ideas must have been Aristotle," I think that the statement is mistaken both as regards this play and as regards Jonson's ethical teaching in general, which, despite borrowings from Aristotle and Plato and occasionally others, is basically Stoic and more especially Senecan, that is insofar as its ascertainable classical sources are concerned. Nor can I go with Professor Baskervill in his treatment of Crites as "the ideal social and courtly type" (p. 258, cf. also 22, note, and 260). Crites is not the ideal courtier, and I see no reason for supposing that had Jonson undertaken to draw such a character, he would not have formed him in general like II Cortigiano, or perhaps, using a concrete model, like Sir Philip Sidney. Crites represents the social group to which Jonson belongs, and in so doing possesses such qualities as the ideal man should possess in whatever walk of life. To suppose that Jonson in proposing the ideal courtier deliberately deprived him of all advantages of rank and fortune, advantages which Seneca himself does not disdain, though he inculcates a particular position to be taken toward them, and which Aristotle considers of very great importance, advantages which, it is perfectly obvious, the courtier must possess in order to enjoy influence and authority under the social conditions of the time, is I think to mis- take Jonson's attitude toward matters of that kind. In other words. Professor Baskervill goes, it seems to me, altogether too far in laying such stress as he does upon the 'democratic' feeling that he thinks runs through Cynthia's Revels (cf. pp. 22, 261). I see no hostility to the Court, but merely to the abuses that fastened themselves upon it. Jonson was certainly aristocratic and monarchical in feeling and belief. His democracy, if we must use the term, consisted in believing that in the best court the door should not be shut entirely upon persons of merit. Social or political equality in the ordinary sense I do not believe that he claimed for them. When he seems to do so for himself, the claim is rather the expression of the force and vigorous independence of his own character than of any social theory.^ It must not be for- * There are, to be sure, certain similarities between Crites and the high- minded man, but they are also to be found in the sapiens. * And doubtless it is partly due to the fact that Jonson was a poet and con- sidered that the poet, who, as the rates, practised an almost sacred profession, was CYNTHIA S REVELS AND SENECA BRIGGS 7I gotten that Jonson was entitled to write himself gentleman, and that his family bore arms. No such person, according to the traditions of the English system, was a proper subject for any great man's contempt. Of course, Jonson, like practically all thinkers of his own and earlier days, believed in the principle of virtus vera nobilitas, but this belief did not make him any more than the others, democratic in feeling; it did not even make him an aristocrat in the etymological sense of the word, for he does not anywhere show that he desired a social reorganization on that basis. He despised the populace ; he believed in class rule ; he believed in good blood, good name, social rank ; but these things should in the individual be incentives to the pursuit of virtue; when they were abused, the offenders deserved castigation. In all this he was a man of his time, and no more a democrat than anyone else. The doctrine, virtus vera nobilitas, can of course be found in early Greek thought and can without the slightest difficulty be traced down through Roman, mediaeval, and Renaissance times into the Elizabethan and modern period. As a political principle, it was utilized in order to account for the origin of rank and to open a door, other than that of wealth, intrigue, and favoritism, through which the aristocracy could be recruited from below. As an ethical and social principle, it served to maintain the standing of the upper orders, to incite them to the proper fulfillment of their duty to society, and from this point of view it was crystallized into the maxim, noblesse oblige. But it had per se no more to do with democracy and democratic feeling than had the Christian doctrine that all men were equal in the sight of God, who would punish and reward without reference to earthly rank. To assert any such connection would be to ignore the history of the principle, to mistake a verbal for a real resemblance, and to reflect conceptions and beliefs of the present day back into the minds of those who did not entertain them. especially worthy of honor. For that reason, among others, Crites should not be scorned. Neither poets nor kings are born every year, like sheriffs. Both deserve equal reverence. And compare Discoveries, ed. Schelling, p. 31 : "I have ever observed it to have been the office of a wise patriot, among the greatest affairs of the State, to take care of the commonwealth of learning. For schools, they are the seminaries of State ; and nothing is worthier the study of a statesman than that part of the republic which we call the advancement of letters." There is nothing democratic in demanding honor for Crites or for himself on such grounds as these. BRYANT'S "A PRESENTIMENT" AND GOETHE'S "DER ERLKONIG" William Herbert Carruth (One phase of Professor Flugel's catholic taste was his interest in American literature, for which he manifested a really remarkable appreciation. In the very year of his death he was gathering material for a revision of his Die nordameri- kanische Littcratur, a supplement to Wulker's Geschichte der englischen Litteratur. Accordingly there may be an especial appropriateness in including in a volume devoted to his memory this slight note on Bryant's relation to Goethe. — W. H. C.) FROM AN accomplished translator who v^as at the same time scrupu- lous to acknowledge his indebtedness to other authors when he was conscious of it, it seems surprising that a poem with so strik- ing a resemblance to Goethe's "Der Erlkonig" as Bryant's "A Presenti- ment" should have come without any note of the relationship. Before discussing this relationship, let us place the two poems side by side. A PRESENTIMENT "Oh father, let us hence — for hark, A fearful murmur shakes the air; The clouds are coming swift and dark; — What horrid shapes they wear ! A winged giant sails the sky: Oh father, father, let us fly!" "Hush, child; it is a grateful sound, That beating of the summer shower; Here, where the boughs hang close around We'll pass a pleasant hour. Till the fresh wind, that brings the rain, Has swept the broad heaven clear again." "Nay, father, let us haste — for see, That horrid thing with horned brow, — His wings o'erhang this very tree, He scowls upon us now ; His huge black arm is Ufted high; Oh father, father, let us fly!" BRYANT AND GOETHE CARRUTH 73 "Hush, child ;" but as the father spoke, Downward the livid firebolt came. Close to his ear the thunder broke. And, blasted by the flame. The child lay dead ; while dark and still Swept the grim cloud along the hill. William Cullen Bryant (composed 1836). DER ERLKONIG Who rides so late in the night-wind wild? It is the father and with him his child ; He gathers the boy well into his arm. He clasps him close and he keeps him warm. "My son, why dost hide thy face and cling?" "Father, dost thou not see the Elfin-king, — The Elfin-king with his crown and train?" "My son, 'tis a streak of the misty rain." (Come hither, thou darling, come go with me! Fine games I know that Fll play with thee; Flow^ers many and bright do my meadows hold, My mother has many a robe of gold.) "O father, dear father, and dost thou not hear What the Elfin-king whispers so low in mine ear?" "Calm, calm thee, my boy, it is only the breeze As it rustles the withered leaves under the trees." (Wilt thou go, bonny boy, wilt thou go with me? My daughters shall wait on thee daintily; My daughters around thee in dances shall sweep And rock thee and kiss thee and sing thee to sleep.) "O father, dear father, and dost thou not mark The Elf-king's daughters out there in the dark?" — "I see it, my child; but it is not they; 'Tis the old willows nodding their heads so gray." (I love thee! Thy beauty it charms me so; And Fll take thee by force if thou wilt not go!) "O father, dear father, he's grasping me, — The Elf-king has done me an injury." 74 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME The father rides swiftly,— with terror he gasps, — The groaning child in his arms he clasps; He reaches the castle all spent and sped; But alack! in his arms the child lay dead! Johann Wolfgang Goethe; translation of Martin and Aytoun, modified. The identity of theme and method are so complete, I take it, as to make argument almost unnecessary. A father, caught in a thunderstorm with a terrified child, who imagines supernatural enemies in cloud and wind; the child appealing for haste and protection; the father attempting in vain to quiet the child by natural explanation of the imag- ined terrors ; the child, at the end of the storm, dead in its father's arms. The method: dialogue, with a minimum of narrative. The differ- ences here : that Goethe's ballad begins with a stanza of narrative, and introduces the fancied seductions of the storm-spirit as a third person in the dialogue. Moreover, Goethe's method is otherwise more dramatic, giving four speeches to each : father and child ; while Bryant's speeches are longer, and but two to each. By omitting the verses spoken by the Erlkonig (and to make this easy I have given them additional indenta- tion), the similarity of method is more obvious, as well as the almost equal length of the two poems : twenty-two lines in "Der Erlkonig" and twenty- four lines in "A Presentiment." A vital difference, from the artistic point of view, is the rationalistic interpretation of the episode and the child's death in Bryant, contrasted with the vague horror which it is Goethe's purpose to arouse. In "Der Erlkonig" the child may have been ill to begin with and have died of that illness, or it may have died of fright, or the death may have resulted from some element in the storm. Goethe probably did not intend us to have a clear answer to the question. Bryant's poem is in a way a criti- cism of Goethe's. A translation it certainly cannot be called ; rather a version with an interpretation. It seems to me undeniable that it is based on "Der Erlkonig," and inconceivable that it was not consciously so based. It is not the pride of an "international literary detective" which prompts to this note, but rather the opportunity it offers to remark on Bryant's scrupulous care to acknowledge his literary indebtedness in general and to suggest an explanation for the absence of such acknowl- edgment in the present case. It was Bryant's habit to supply his poems with notes explaining their origin. Thus on "The Burial Place": "The first half of this fragment may seem to the reader borrowed from the Essay on Rural Funerals in BRYANT AND GOETHE CARRUTH 75 the fourth number of the Sketch-Book. The lines were, however, written more than a year before that number appeared." On "The Hurricane" : "This poem is nearly a translation from one by Jose Maria de Heredia etc." Or again, on "Love and Folly" : "This is an imitation rather than a translation of the poem of the graceful French fabulist." I find no- where any comment on the poem here under discussion, either by Bryant or by his biographers or editors. Yet as I have said, I assume that he cannot have been unaware of the relation of his poem to "Der Erlkonig." On the other hand, there can be no question of 'plagiarism.' Bryant was too wholly honest to give room for such a suspicion, and too intelli- gent, if he had not been honest, to dream that the connection would not be seen. Accordingly it must be assumed that he regarded the case as peculiar in not calling for the acknowledgment of relationship. "A Presentiment" is a rationalistic criticism on "Der Erlkonig." As such the latter poem and its theme become raw material to the author of the former. Bryant would not have dreamed of undertaking an artistic im- provement on Goethe's work. But it must have occurred to him to show by illustration that the real phenomena of a real storm were adequate to produce an artistic ballad without the romantic 'blauer Dunst' of elfin superstition. For my own part, it seems to me that an acknowledgment was due to Goethe, even on this assumption, and the omission of it does not seem to accord with Bryant's character and practice. If my impression is right on this point, there is no other explanation of the omission than neglect due to oversight or postponement. ON SHAKESPEARE'S "JULIUS CAESAR" William Chislett, Jr. To H. M. Ayres' view of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar as "a gradual evolution of the braggart Caesar from its direct prototypes — the Hercules of Seneca and the Ajax of Sophocles" (New Variorum Shakespeare, Julius Caesar, 1913, pp. xi, 397-9), and J. C. Allen's con- ception of the great Roman as a picturesque hero staged to amuse Eliza- bethan audiences (id., p. 395), I wish to call attention to two further aspects of a still deferred solution. I think (i) that in the dramatic figure of Caesar Shakespeare satirized the historical Caesar by making him a conventional pseudo- Senecan hero; and (2) that in his characterization he embodied "our histories' " and his audiences's presumably patriotic feelings against the ancient invader of Britain. In support of ( i ) we note that in the plays of Shakespeare in which the Senecan influence is detected (see Cunliffe's The Influence of Seneca on Elizabethan Tragedy) Shakespeare is in the main intuitively Senecan, not pseudo-Senecan. Again, portions of the clown scenes in The Mid- summer Night's Dream burlesque pseudo-Senecan drama ; as also Fal- staiif in i Henry IV, II, iv : "I must speak in a passion, and I will do it in King Cambyses' vein." I think in Julius Caesar Shakespeare satirized false Senecanism not less intentionally, but less obviously. Pseudo-Sene- can-like, Caesar is "drunk with the name of Caesar." Like Tamburlaine and Cambyses he is pompous and thrasonical ; but whereas they are un- intentionally ridiculed, he is purposely exaggerated. In support of (2), one recalls the patriotic passage in Cymbel- ine II, iv, 20-33, in which Posthumus says, "Our countrymen Are now more order'd than when Julius Caesar Smiled at their lack of skill, but found their courage Worthy his frowning at." But the words that were music in the ears of loyal Elizabethans were the Queen's, III, i, 16-33. (See W. G. Boswell-Stone's Shake- Shakespeare's "julius caesar" — chislett yy spere's Holm shed, p. ii, where the Queen "scornfully appraises the value of that 'kind of conquest which Caesar made here' ") : "Remember, sir, my liege, The kings your ancestors, together with The natural bravery of your isle, which stands As Neptune's park, ribbed and paled in With rocks unscaleable and roaring waters, With sands that will not bear your enemies' boats. But suck them up to the topmast. A kind of conquest Caesar made here ; but made not here his brag Of 'Came, and saw, and overcame' : with shame — The first that ever touch'd him — he was carried From off our coast, twice beaten ; and his shipping — Poor ignorant baubles ! — on our terrible seas. Like egg-shells moved upon their surges, crack'd As easily 'gainst our rocks ; for joy whereof The famed Cassibelan, who was once at point — O giglot fortune ! — to master Caesar's sword. Made Lud's town with rejoicing-fires bright And Britons strut with courage." ^ The Queen's unfairness here to Caesar (even Holinshed is fairer: see Dowden's Cymbeline, Arden Shakespeare, p. xx) becomes Shake- speare's and his audience's and "our histories' " (GeoflFrey of Monmouth's and Matthew of Westminster's) bias- in Juhus Caesar, and for the same reason : expression is given to British resentment against the Roman invader, whose ambition did not end with the sea, but extended even to the Invulnerable Isle. Now Professor Boas says truly (Shakespere and His Predecessors, p. 458), "Allusions elsewhere (than in Julius Caesar) to the great dic- tator as 'mightiest Julius' and 'broad- fronted Caesar' prove that Shake- speare did not under-estimate the man whose place in the sphere of action is perhaps the closest parallel to his own in the sphere of intellect." Cymbeline itself has appreciative references to Caesar. Indeed Holinshed, when he deals with the Roman invasion of Britain, gives Caesar's side and "our histories'." But when he comes to the French, the Scotch, the Welsh and the Irish, he displays "a stolid insular spirit" ; which leads ' Sidney Lee quotes the first seven lines of this passage in his Shakespeare and Patriotism. (Critic, XXXVIII, 535, 1901.) ' See Dowden, p. xx. 78 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME Miss Christabel Forsyth Fiske to say further (A Study of a Feature of i6th Century Conventionalism as it Reveals Itself in Holinshed's Chron- icle, ch. ii, Holinshed's Provincialism) : "He is quite incapable of com- prehending that another man's view may be tenable ; or that truth, honor and magnanimity can possibly exist in any nation hostile to the English." Shakespeare's source for Julius Caesar is Plutarch; but he was satur- ated with Holinshed. I believe, then, that when he created Julius Caesar he took over "our histories' " prejudices and assimilated Holins- hed's general spirit of intolerance towards any nation hostile to Britain. Caesar was a tyrant, an enemy to liberty and an ancient foe of England. Why should Shakespeare glorify him to an Elizabethan audience? "Are we to conclude," says Boas, p. 459, "that Shakespeare deliberately in- tended to turn Caesar into a laughing-stock for the benefit of the ground- lings in the Globe?" I think not; for Shakespeare's satire of Caesar is not so broad as Professor Boas' question impHes. In fact M. W. Mac- Callum, Shakespeare's Roman Plays and Their Background, 1910, p. 226, goes so far as to say, "The impression Julius Caesar makes on the un- sophisticated mind, on average audiences and the elder school of critics, is undoubtedly an heroic one." The truth lies somewhere between these extremes. Shakespeare did satirize Caesar, but subtly ; how far his aud- ience appreciated the satire we may only surmise. If Shakespeare and his company presented Caesar as Mr. Allen thinks— a picturesque hero to amuse Elizabethan audiences — the satirical intent was apparent to most; if more heroically, as actors commonly interpret him today, the satire was apparent to the more intelligent portion of his audience. In either case I believe Shakespeare conceived Caesar in a spirit of EUza- bethan loyalty. To summarize the two views: I think that Shakespeare embodied in Julius Caesar, in a satirical pseudo-Senecan characterization, an Eliza- bethan and a British conception of the great Roman whose vaunting ambition presumed even to subdue Britain. LITERARY SOURCES OF GOETHE'S "URTASSO" William A. Cooper THE PURPOSE of this paper is to offer a revised list of the Uterary sources of the first version of the first two acts of Goethe's drama, Torquato Tasso. For brevity's sake this early version may be referred to as the Ur tasso. It is well known that for the final version of the drama the poet made very large use of Serassi's La vita di Torquato Tasso (1785), which fell into his hands on his first Italian journey, and is the only source book he mentions specifically in connection with the drama. There are a great many reminiscences of Serassi scattered throughout the whole play, including even the first two acts. Since the Urtasso has not been preserved, so far as we know, and virtually every motive of the drama that had its source in some printed document, rather than in Goethe's own experience, can be found in the text or the footnotes of Serassi, as well as in the earlier works usually cited as Goethe's sources, it is a difficult task to determine just what were the motives of the Urtasso, and how thoroughgoing was Goethe's revision of these two acts. Scholars are quite generally agreed, how- ever, that the main theme of the first act was the coronation of Tasso by the Princess Leonora, and the main theme of the second act was the challenge which all but resulted in a duel in the palace. The first of these themes was invented by Goethe, who expressly made it prefigure the poet's later coronation at the Capitol in Rome, which, as we know, was actually planned and was only prevented by the poet's untimely death. At the time when the first conception of the drama was assuming shape in Goethe's mind we find him sending to Wieland a laurel wreath as an unworded expression of what he deemed the poet of Oberon to have deserved. Thus we see Goethe both per- ceiving and perpetuating the poetical side of life, a process which may with profit be followed through the whole history of the writing of our drama. How he was making of the Urtasso a vehicle to convey his love messages to Frau von Stein we know from many of the contemporary billets-doux which he dispatched to that beloved lady. The only motives of the first act of the finished drama for which 8o FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME any literary source might have been needed are the love relation between Tasso and the Princess, and the jealous attitude of the Secretary of State Antonio toward Tasso. The love relation was the chief theme of the regular Tasso-legend, and Goethe retained it even after Serassi had char- acterized it as legendary. The original delineation of the jealous cour- tier was later, no doubt, considerably retouched, to make the character more closely resemble the historical portrait drawn by Serassi. That there was a character corresponding to Antonio, but called by some other name, in the Urtasso, would hardly be questioned nowadays, in spite of Kuno Fischer, whose elaborate theory may be clever argument, but certainly is not convincing proof. We know from manuscript evi- dence that the secretary was not always called Antonio, having been previously known as Battista Pigna, and he must even have had a still earlier name, for Goethe could hardly have made the acquaintance of Pigna before he read Serassi. The essential thing is that Tasso had a powerful enemy at court, and this fact Goethe must have known, as we shall see, even before Serassi's biography was published. The plot of the second act of the finished drama results naturally from an intermingling of the love motive and the jealousy motive of the first act. About the only feature of the action for which a literary source would perhaps seem necessary is the breaking of the peace of the palace by Tasso, and its painful consequences, and this is directly trace- able to the world-popular, though more or less legendary, account of Tasso's duel in Ferrara, which made his reputation as a swordsman equal to, if not greater than, that as a poet. The first question that now presents itself for our consideration is, where did Goethe become acquainted with the Tasso-legend? Or to be more specific, what did he read that left him with the distinct impres- sions, (i) that a love relation had actually existed between Tasso and Princess Leonora, (2) that Tasso had had a powerful enemy at court, (3) and that, one day, in the palace, in a fit of anger, he drew his sword and challenged a supposed enemy to a duel, with the result that he him- self was thrown into prison? As Goethe made a careful study of historical sources before writing Gotz and Egmont, it would only seem natural to suppose that he would study the chief source of the Tasso-legend, Manso's La vita di Torquato Tasso (1600-1621), before undertaking to write a Tasso-drama. He himself told what books he used for Gots and Egmont, but he nowhere mentions Manso in connection with Tasso, never speaks of him at all, in fact. For this and other reasons it has long seemed to me unnecessary Goethe's "urtasso" — cooper 8i to suppose, with the overwhelming majority of writers on Tasso, that Goethe based the Urtasso on Manso. He could have found all the source material he needed in other works which there is some evidence that he read. To mention but one of the few criticisms in which the Manso-theory is questioned, Vollmer says, in Goethes Torquato Tasso, erldutert und gewilrdigt (2te Aufl., Leipzig, 1909), p. 85: "Dafiir, dass Goethe bei der ersten Bearbeitung das von Kopp als Quelle zitierte Werk Mansos, des Zeitgenossen und Freundes von Tasso, selbst gelesen, wie die meisten Erklarer, auch Diintzer und Fischer, annehmen, habe ich keine sichere Spur gefunden." Apparently Vollmer's only reason for not discarding the Manso theory entirely was the fact that Goethe's lines 1048 fT. are evidently based on one of Tasso's madrigals cited by Manso. But he is careful to remark that such a slender basis for the whole theory is "schwerlich zum Beweise geniigend" (p. 28). Even assuming that lines 1048 ff. were a part of the prose Urtasso, Vollmer's slight difficulty can be entirely removed by reference to Heinse's essay on Tasso, in the Iris, where we find the substance of the madrigal incorporated, with the same interpretation as that adopted by Goethe. As there is then no evidence whatever that Goethe ever read Manso, let us eliminate his Vita di Torquato Tasso, hitherto almost universally accepted as Goethe's first authority, from the list of the Urtasso sources, and examine the record of Goethe's study of Tasso to see what we can find to replace Manso. His acquaintance with the Italian poet began at an early age. In the second book of Dichtitng und Wahrheit he says that there was a copy of Kopp's translation of the Jerusalem Delivered in his father's library, which he industriously read and partly memorized.^ It was only natural that he should read the book, as Tasso was a favorite author of his father. How deeply his childish spirit was affected by certain scenes of the Jerusalem he tells us in an autobiographical passage in the ninth chapter of Wilhelm Meisters theatralische Sendung (seventh chapter of the Lehrjahre) , where we also learn that he early made an unsuccessful attempt to adapt his favorite scenes to the puppet stage. In a letter to his sister from Leipzig (December 7, 1765) he recommends to her that ^ Versuch einer poetischen Uebersetsung des Tassoischen Heldengedichis genannt: Gottfried, oder das Befreyte Jerusalem, ausgearbeitet von J. F. Koppen, Leipzig, Breitkopf, 1744. This translation appears as No. 85 of the octavo volumes in the catalogue of Goethe's father's library, printed after his death for the auction sale of August 18, 1794. 82- FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME she read the Jerusalem, if she can make it out, — meaning the original. In another letter to her (May 28, 1766) he quotes "le clinquant du Tasse" from Boileau's ninth satire (173-176), and says that Boileau is a man who can mold our taste, a thing which can never be expected from a Tasso. Four months later (September 27) he touches on the same sub- ject again and speaks of the Jerusalem as a very Gothic work which one ought not to read without a good deal of attention and discernment, in order not to acquire a bad taste by admiring Tasso even to his faults. To this advice he joins a passage from Boileau's criticism of the Jerusalem in L'art poetique (HI, 210 fi.). In the same letter he asks his sister whether she would advise anybody to learn English from Milton and Young, Italian from Tasso and Ariosto, and German from Gesner and Klopstock. In a later letter (May 11, 1767) he expresses delight that his sister has undertaken to defend Tasso, and quotes, in defense of Tasso, against the criticism of Boileau, thirty lines from Marmontel's Epitre aux poctes sur les charmes de I' etude, to the sentiments of which he subscribes in the hope of making peace with both his sister and Tasso. No further evidence is necessary to establish beyond question young Goethe's familiarity with the Jerusalem Delivered, in the original as well as in translation. We assume as a matter of course that Goethe read Kopp's intro- duction to his translation of the Jerusalem. In that introduction we read (beginning on p. xv, if we supply the wanting pagination) : "Das Jahr hernach kam er [Tasso] wieder zuriick nach Ferrara, und liess das Hirtengedicht, Amyntas genannt, daselbst zum ersten ans Licht treten, wodurch er sich die Ehre der Erfindung der sogenannten Pastorellen oder Schaferspiele zuwege gebracht hat. Allein nunmehro bahnte ihm die Liebe allmahlich den Weg zu den grossen Widerv/artigkeiten, die ihm durch einen grossen Theil seines Lebens begegnet sind, und endUch gar seinen friihzeitigen Tod nach sich gezogen haben. Er verliebte sich namlich in ein vornehmes Frauenzimmer, Leonora genannt, und hielt wegen Ungleichheit des Standes seine Liebe so geheim, dass man auch nicht einmal gewiss weiss, wer diese Leonora eigentlich gewesen ist, indem etliche auf die Prinzessinn von Ferrara, des Herzogs Alphonsens leibliche Sch wester, andre wiederum auf eine Grafinn von Sanvitale, und endlich auch auf eine Kammerfraulein obgedachter Prinzessinn, Namens Leonora, muthmassen. Es mag nun aber eine Person, welche es wolle, von diesen dreyen gewesen seyn, wiewohl die Meynung derjenigen, die auf die Prinzessinn Leonora denken, der Wahrheit am nachsten zu kommen scheint, so ist gewiss, dass die Gemiithsverwirrung, Goethe's "urtasso" — cooper 83 in welche Tasso nach der Hand gerathen ist, und die durch Entkraftung seines Leibes sein Ende befordert hat, von dieser ungliicklichen Liebe herriihret. Es mochte namlich einer von den ferrarischen Hofleuten, mit welchem Tasso in vertrauter Freundschaft gelebet, etwas zu viel von dem Liebesgeheimnisse seines Freundes geredet haben, und dieses nahm der beleidigte Dichter so iibel auf, dass er sich in der Burg des Herzogs seinern gewesenen Vertrauten die an ihm begangene Treulosig- keit mit bittern Worten vorwarf, und ihm endlich gar in der Hitze einen Schlag ins Gesicht versetzte. Der andere forderte ihn hierauf heraus, und Tasso hielt sich im Zweykampfe so tapfer, dass er nicht nur seinen Feind schwerlich verwundete, sondem auch, als wider Treu und Glauben drey Briider seines Gegners an dem Gefechte wider ihn Theil nahmen, sich gegen alle viere so lange wehrte, bis sie von einer Menge Volks, welche darzu kam, von einander gebracht wurden. Dieses muthige Bezeigen unsers Poeten brachte ihm nun zwar uberall einen neuen Ruhm zuwege, indem man offentUch sprach : dass Tasso im Degen nicht weniger, als in der Feder, uniiberwindlich ware ; allein da er hierauf auf Befehl des Herzogs, nachdem seine Widersacher entwichen, und ihre Giiter eingezogen worden waren, in Verhaft genommen wurde, um, wie Alphonsus vorgab, ihn wider alle fernere Nachstellungen in Sicherheit zu setzen, so nahm dieses Tasso, welcher nicht anders glaubte, als ob der Herzog von seinem Leibesgeheimnisse Nachricht bekommen, und desswegen eine so grosse Ungnade auf ihn geworfen hatte, dergestalt zu Herzen, dass er in eine ausserordentliche Traurigkeit und Angst gerieth, welche endlich zu einer oftern Verwirrung seines Verstandes ausschlug, und ihn in einen bejammernswiirdigen Zustand versetzte. Wenige Zeit zuvor, namlich im Jahre 1574, hatte er im 30. Jahre seines Alters das hefreyte Jerusalem zu Stande gebracht, und grosse Ehre damit eingelegt, nichts destoweniger aber auch verschiedene Widersacher gefunden, die ihm in sehr bittern Schriften die grossten Fehler in diesem Heldengedichte zeigen wollen." This passage gives the gist of the part of the regular Tasso-legend covering the particular period of Tasso's life with which Goethe's drama is concerned. The love relation is narrated in such a striking way that Goethe retained its essential features even after Serassi had sought to relegate it to the realm of fiction. To be sure, in the finished drama we find only two of the traditional three Leonoras, the third having been completely stared out of countenance by the critical Serassi. The duel is given considerable prominence, but we find as Tasso's opponent, instead of the jealous Antonio, a gossiping courtier who has betrayed Tasso's 84 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME love secret. As this opponent journeys incognito through most of the pre-Serassian literature on Tasso, we do not know by what name he was called in the Urtasso. In another passage of Kopp's introduction, not quoted here, he refers briefly to the famous controversy over the com- parative greatness of Tasso and Ariosto. This motive is skillfully em- ployed by Goethe at the very beginning of the hostile relation between Tasso and Antcnio. The next literary document which we have every reason to believe young Goethe read is one that has hitherto escaped the attention of scholars. In one of Wolfgang's Leipzig letters to his sister he says that his father's library contained a copy of the Jerusalem in the original. In the auction catalogue of the library already referred to I found as num- bers 44 and 45 of the duodecimo volumes the two volumes of the Gerusa- lemme liberata published in Venice in 1705. By reference to Serassi's bib- liography I discovered that with this edition was regularly bound in at the end of the second volume a copy of the Vita di Torquato Tasso, scritta dal Cavalier Guido Casoni. Without doubt this 27-page essay was the first biographical account of Tasso's life in Italian that fell into young Goethe's hands, and we may safely assume that he read it. Casoni draws upon Manso for the few incidents he relates from the life of his hero, and his own contributions are in the nature of attempts to explain the poet's madness. He credits Tasso with great fortitude in adversity and counts him no less distinguished for his perfect habits and his complete self-control than for his great writings. He makes him out beloved of men, but not of fortune. His theory, that Tasso's melan- cholia is the natural accompaniment of his superior intellect, he supports by the authority of Aristotle, Democritus, and Plato. The divine fury he considers essential to the poetic faculty. The theory of humors is adduced to explain how Tasso's love for Leonora led to his madness. But while the poet's fancy was admittedly deranged, his intellect is said to have remained clear, a state set forth as in harmony with the theories of Aetius, Avicenna, and others. Finally, Tasso is portrayed as having become sane again before his death. This essay was well calculated to confirm the impression made by Kopp's introduction, that Tasso's love for the Princess Leonora was the source of his many sorrows. The theory that Goethe's chief source for the Urtasso was Manso presupposes that when he read essays on Tasso that referred to Manso as the chief original authority on which they were based he must have secured a copy of Manso and studied it. Now Kopp says on the first and Goethe's "urtasso" — cooper 85 second pages of his unpaged Vorrede: "Das Leben des Tasso hat sein vertrauter Freund, Johann Baptista Manso, Marchese di Villa, umstand- lich beschrieben; noch weitlauftiger aber ist die Lebensbeschreibung, welche ein ungenannter Franzose (der nach des Crescimbeni Berichte der Abbe de Charnes seyn soil) unter dem Titel : La vie du Tasse, Prince des poetes Italiens, a Paris, 1690 und 1695 in 12 herausgegeben hat." It is just as reasonable to suppose that Goethe read this biography as that of Manso, in view of what Kopp says of the two. If we had any docu- mentary evidence that Goethe actually read this book it would be an easy matter to point out in it all the source material he would have needed for his Urtasso. But we are forced to leave this work ofif the list of sources, along with Manso, till some documentary evidence is brought forward to warrant including it. The third and last biographical essay to be included in our list is Heinse's Das Leben Tassos, which appeared in installments in the first two numbers of Jacobi's Iris, October and November, 1774. It is easy enough to understand why Kopp's introductory essay should have been neglected by so many scholars. His book is so scarce that few investi- gators have ever seen a copy. The reason for neglecting Heinse is dif- ferent. Hermann Grimm saw significance in the Iris essay as a means of refreshing Goethe's memory on the chief points in the life of his spiritual kinsman of the Italian Renaissance. However, Grimm thought that from this reading sprang at once the conception of our drama, and it is little wonder that such utter disregard of documented chronology caused the would-be all-Goethe-knowing Diintzer to fly into a rage and submerge Grimm's thought in a deluge of derision. It was only after Goethe had become involved in his love affair with Frau von Stein and had been appointed a member of the Duke's "Conseil" that he began to experience the double conflict, later to be portrayed in Tasso, wherein he put to himself the thoroughly characteristic question (Tasso, 3422-5): "Hilft denn kein Beispiel der Geschichte mehr? Stellt sich kein edler Mann mir vor die Augen, Der mehr gelitten, als ich jemals litt, Damit ich mich mit ihm vergleichend fasse?" Heinse's essay contains some passages that ofifend against good taste, and is pervaded by too patronizing an attitude toward his supposedly feminine public. But this does not justify Diintzer and others who follow him in saying that Goethe derived nothing for his Tasso from Heinse's ladies' journal article. Before dealing with the possible influence of the 86 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME article on the drama let us take a moment to consider the relation of the two authors to one another. Before Goethe had met Heinse he had read Laidion and had spoken of it in terms of highest praise. After their meeting Heinse spoke of his very friendly associations with Goethe and their discussions of his (Heinse's) works. Goethe's familiarity with the Iris needs no proof, and so it goes without saying that he read the Tasso essay. In the course of Heinse's description of the love relation between Tasso and the Princess we find this statement (57 f.) : "Jeder Bewun- derer des Tasso muss die Asche dieser Prinzessinn segnen ; denn sie ist die Schopferinn alles des Guten, was wir von ihm haben. Ihr allein, oder, welches einerley ist, seiner Leidenschaft gegen sie haben wir die schon- sten Stellen im Aminta, und die grossten Reize seiner Armida zu ver- danken. Sie war der Hauptgegenstand in seinem Leben, den Geist und Herz in ihm in eine Masse von Feuer zerronnen in dem hochsten Grad empfunden haben, in dem ein Wesen empfinden kann ; und nur der- gleichen starke Gefiihle sind die Quellen, woraus das Genie den Durstigen Erquickung darzureichen vermag." Heinse says Tasso was loved by everybody at the court, "einen ein- zigen ausgenommen, der aber der Liebling des Herzogs war, und ihm so viel schadete, als die Liebe aller andern nicht vergiiten konnte. Dieser befiirchtete, schon vor seiner Ankunft, sein Herr mochte im Umgange mit ihm zu klug zu seinem Nachtheil werden, und mahlte selbst den Hof ihm mit den widrigsten Farben ab, um ihn davon zu entfernen; da dem Herzog auf keine feine Art auszureden war, ihn zu sich zu bitten." A later passage tells how Tasso got even with this minister- favorite of the Duke, by lampooning him in the pastoral Aminta: "Er [Tasso] stellte sich selbst in einer Person des Stiicks, im Tyrsis vor, und macht eine schone Beschreibung vom Herzoge, seinem Hofe, sich und seinem Feinde, den er Mopso nennt, und dessen Charakter er in Gegenwart des ganzen Hofs, und seiner selbst, so frey schilderte: Honigworte hat er auf der Zunge, und auf den Lippen ein freundliches Lacheln, aber den Betrug im Busen, und den Dolch unter dem Mantel ; und darauf noch erzahlte, was er ihm sagte, um ihn vom Hofe zu entfernen." In another passage we read : "Dieser Mann aber, dessen Namen weder er noch einer seiner Freunde und Zeitverwandten fiir werth gehalten, von der Nach- welt ausgesprochen zu werden, hatte in der Kunst, die grossen Herren zu beherrschen, ausgelernt, die ihm [Tasso] ganzlich unbekannt war; weil man sie, ohne eine Kleopatra zur Grossmutter zu haben, aus Biichern nicht lernen kann, so sehr sie auch dazu die Herren Literatoren anpreisen. Goethe's "urtasso" — cooper 87 Der Herzog konnte ihn nicht mehr missen. Er war die Seele seiner Regierung geworden, der Ausspaher seiner Vergniigen. . . . Er sammelte zuerst, um ihm den Tasso verachtlich zu machen, alle bittere Kritiken, die iiber das befreyte Jerusalem, und seine andern Gedichte und Schriften, von Neidern gemacht wurden, und wusste, sie gelegentlich, wahrend seiner Gefangenschaft und Abwesenheit, eine nach der andern, Oder vvenigstens das bitterste daraus, dem Herzoge mitzutheilen . . . Nach des Tasso Ankunft erzahlte er, wie von ohngefehr, er hab' ihn auch gesehn und gesprochen, als er eben von der Prinzessinn gekommen sey, und Mitleiden mit ihm gehabt, und brachte darauf, nach einigen guther- zigen stechenden Wortern, im besten Ton, uber seine traurige Gestalt, dem Herzoge bey, dass er vor Liebespein ein wenig den Verstand verlohr- en habe; er hoffe aber, in der ferrarischen Luft ihn bald wieder herge- stellt zu sehn. Alles dieses musste seine Wirkung thun." The essay has much more to say about the love affair, and the court enemy, also a good deal about the friend who betrayed Tasso's secret, the violation of the "Burgfrieden," the resulting duel, and the "room- arrest," as well as the comparison between Tasso and Ariosto, and the preparation for the coronation of the poet at the Capitol in Rome. From all this it must be clear to anybody approaching the subject with an open mind that we have before us an account, fanciful, to be sure, and showing the author squinting an eye at his lady readers, as he writes German Storm and Stress into the Italian Renaissance, — but, after all, an account containing every essential element of what must have been the plot of the Urtasso. The love affair is portrayed as sincere on both sides and the Princess becomes for Tasso the inspiration of his most striking creations, just as Frau von Stein was for Goethe. The Antonio motive is elaborately introduced in the person of the nameless minister. Kopp, Casoni, and Heinse furnished Goethe with all the source material he needed for the Urtasso. THE USE OF STARE IN HORACE SAT. I, 9, 39 AND JUVENAL I, 149 Jefferson Elmore T HE PASSAGE from Horace is as follows : Ventum erat ad Vestae, quarta iam parte diei Praeterita, et casu tunc respondere vadato Debebat; quod ni fecisset, perdere litem. 'Si me amas,' inquit, 'paulum hie ades.' 'inteream, si Aut valeo stare aut novi civilia iura : Et propero quo scis.' 'dubius sum quid faciam' inquit. The poet in passing through the forum is beset by a stranger who happens at the moment to have a case pending in court and who begs Horace to assist him. The latter is unwilling, giving as a reason inteream si . . . valeo stare. The late Professor Verrall, in a paper on this passage,^ reached the conclusion that stare offered so many difficulties that it ought not to be retained in the text. He proposed accordingly to read ista re, or (using the shortened form of the pronoun) sta re, taking valeo ista (sta) re to mean, "I am competent in this afifair of yours." The proposal is most ingenious, but can hardly be right. Ista re does not so much express the quality in which the speaker is competent as the object toward which his competency is directed, and in normal Latin would require in or ad with the accusative. Read in this way the text also acquires a pronounced tautology, being only a more general statement of novi civilia iura. While one can not, therefore, accept Verrall's brilliant suggestion, he will agree that stare is in need of further elucidation. In the current explanations the endeavor is made to apply here a par- ticular conception of the act of standing, — I mean standing as the op- posite of sitting, reclining, etc., which, though common, is not the only form which the idea may assume. The scholiast of Cruquius, who is fol- lowed by several modern editors,^ takes the matter in quite literal fashion, ^ Stare in Horace, Sat. I, 9, 39, Journal of Philology, XIII, 56 f., reprinted in "Studies in Greek and Latin Scholarship," 354 f. ^ Kriiger, Schiitz, Kiessling, Rolfe, Morris. USE OF 'stare' in HORACE AND JUVENAL ELMORE 89 understanding Horace to mean that he can not endure the exertion of standing during the trial. This physical delicacy is inconsistent with the et propero quo scis of the following line; and moreover there is nothing in our knowledge of the Roman courts which warrants the belief that Horace would have been obliged to stand. Others,^ apparently fol- lowing the lead of Heindorff, have given to standing in court the tech- nical sense of appearing as an advocate. Stare is thus equivalent to adesse, and this is, indeed, the service which the stranger asked Horace to perform. It is not clear, however, that stare can have this meaning, the only authority being two passages in Plautus,* which are themselves capable of a different interpretation. Even if this were not the case, the only result would be to convict Horace of having said the same thing twice in the same line. With respect to the courts stare does nevertheless possess a technical meaning, that of appearing as a party to a suit. This point was first elaborated by Roby ^ in a paper called out by Verrall's emendation, and is substantiated by quotations from Cicero ** and the legal writers.' Roby accordingly maintains that Horace is here express- ing his inability to be a party to the suit. This would seem almost a reduction to absurdity. Horace w^as not and could not be a party to the stranger's suit. Why, then, make a point of refusing to be present in this character ? It seems evident that stare here requires a different conception of standing, and this I think may be found in regarding it as the opposite of being in motion on the feet — the other fundamental way of looking at this particular act. The opposition may be emphasized as in standing still or standing fast, or it may consist merely in ceasing from motion, as in stopping or coming to a halt. This relation finds expression in the semasiology of both the English 'stand' and the German 'stehen,' and I wish to show that this is also the case with stare, which has thus acquired the force of consistere. The matter has been much neglected by the lexicographers. In the first place we find stare meaning 'to be station- ary,' as in Cic. Acad, ii, 123 : caelum, solem, lunam, stellas, supera denique omnia stare censet, neque praeter terram ullam rem in mundo moveri ; and 'to stand firm,' as in Livy xxii, 60, 25 : cum in acie stare ac pugnare decuerat, in castra refugerent. These meanings presuppose that of con- sistere, but the latter is itself found even in the earlier language of Comedy. Cf. Plant. Amphytr. 276: ita statim stant signa, neque nox *Cf. Orelli, Duentzer, Palmer. *Men. 799, Rud. iioi. 'Journal of Philology, XIII, 233 f. ' Quinct. 25. 'Gaius iv, 185. Ulpian in Dig. ii, 11, 4, i. Dig. xlv, i, 81. 90 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME quoquam concedit die. Id. Merc. 872: Eu. sta ilico. Ch. male facis properantem qui me commorare, Ter. Phorm. 190: sta ilico. The usage apparently does not occur in Cicero or Caesar; of later writers it is found most frequently in Tacitus, who has at least a half dozen examples ; in fact it seems to be congenial to the rhetorical spirit of the early empire. Thus Seneca, Oed. 585: gelidus in venis stetit, haesitque sanguis, PUny Epp. vii, 3 : nescit enim semel incitata liberalitas stare. Juvenal iii, 290 (of the footpad) : stat starique iubet. Tacitus, Agr. 16, 23 : seditio sine sanguine stetit. Id. Hist, iv, 67, 11 : Sequanorum prospera acie belli impetus stetit. Id. An. iii, 72, 11: Seianum extulit tam- quam labore . . . eius tanta vis unum intra damnum stetisset.^ Id. An. xii, 22, 14: unde ira Agrippinae citra ultima stetit. Gellius xiv, 5 (Androclus and the Hon) : Hunc ille leo ubi videt procul repente quasi ad- mirans stetit, ac deinde sensim atque placide ... ad hominem accedit. Arnobius, i, 45 : cuius ex levi tactu stabant profluvia sanguinis, et immoderatos cohibebant fluores. Id. iii, 44 : Quare si vobis liquet . in unius proloquii finibus convenit vos stare, nee per varias . . . sententias fidepi . . . derogare. These quotations, which could be increased in number by a more diligent search, are sufficient to show that stare in the sense of consistere is a well authenticated usage. It is this use of the word w^hich I think should also be recognized in the passage from Horace. It is clearly what Porphyrio had in mind when he glossed stare with expectare,^ the latter being equivalent to con- sistere plus the delay which the idea of stopping may always imply. This view also permits valeo to be taken in its characteristic connotation of an inner or moral ability.^" Physically Horace can stop for the trial if he so desires, but there are considerations which render his doing so out of the question. Pie is in no position to tarry, one reason for which he gives in et propero quo scis. This latter statement is no longer inconsistent with stare, but stands in a logical relation to it. Indeed the use of propero is especially appropriate in that it serves actually to reveal the significance of stare as the opposite of its own ; otherwise, even the Roman reader might have misunderstood. In Plaut. Merc. 872, already quoted, there occurs a similar conjunction of these two words. Finally it may be 'Cf. Hist, iii, 53, 7- An. iii, 75, 11. • Porphyrio ad loc. Hoc Horatius dicens negat se posse eum expectare. *" Krebs-Schmalz, Antibarbarus, ii 648, Uebrigens liegt in valeo nur das virtuelle konnen, die innere Kraft haben, imstande sein etwas zu vollbringen, dagegen in posse das active, konnen, wo die Moglichkeit stattfindet etwas auszurichten. USE OF STARE IN HORACE AND JUVENAL 9I claimed that this interpretation gives to the text a consistent and straight- forward meaning. Horace refuses to aid the stranger for two reasons : (i) he is in no position to stop for the trial, inasmuch as he is going in haste on another errand ; (2) he knows nothing at all about the civil law. We may now consider whether a similar conception lies back of Juvenal i, 149: — Nil erit ulterius quod nostris moribus addat Posteritas, eadem facient cupientque minores : Omne in praecipiti vitium stetit. Utere uelis. This passage has had much the same history as the one from Horace. It was Palmer who proposed to deal with stetit by emendation, making the line read Omne in praecipiti vitium est. eia utere uelis, but this correction (unlike Verrall's) has not even cleverness to recom- mend it. Juvenal's general idea, the extreme prevalence of vice in his time, is clear enough. In his edition of 1839, Heinrich interpreted in pracipiti as "auf dem hochsten Gipfel," in which he was followed by both Friedlander and Mayor. In this view vice stands at the top of an eminence and is thus shown at the climax. But when the eminence is called praeceps, it also implies the idea of descent. Taking this fact into account, H. Richards " suggested an altogether new rendering: "All vice stands on a sheer descent," or as Wilson translates, "vice always stands on a steep incline." The point of this, as Richards explains, is that "once start and you soon reach the bottom. We have already reached it, and posterity can go no further." This is supposed to be supported by such passages as Sen. Ep. 97, 10 : non pronum est tantum ad vitia sed praeceps, and Sen. Dial, iii, 7, 4, where the philosopher speaks of vitiorum natura proclivis. It will be noted that in the older view climax is represented by being at the top of an eminence ; in this later one, by being at the bot- tom. Moreover, the presence of vice at the latter point is only an infer- ence from its perilous position on the incline. Such indirection is of course foreign to Juvenal, and we may also acquit him of attributing to vice the folly of attempting to stand on a sheer descent with the inevi- table consequence of rolling to the bottom. These vagaries of interpretation I venture to think result from the ^ Class. Rev. VI, 124-5. 92 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME narrow conception of stare which we have already considered. It seems hardly possible that stare in its ordinary sense could ever be made to fit appropriately into this context. If, however, it be taken in the well- established sense of 'to stop,' 'come to a stand,' difficulties of all kinds vanish. We are relieved of the very questionable gnomic perfect which must otherwise be assumed for stetit. We can also see just how Juvenal conceived the climax of the vice of his day : It was not under the figure of something that had been high, or that was lying low; vice was a creature which moved forward and which stayed its steps only on the verge of the abyss. The line thus repeats in striking form the nil erit ulterius which introduces the passage. ^- "I find this view is also taken by Weidner in his edition of 1889 and by Housman in Class. Rev. XVII, 467, but neither adduces any evidence. TRADITIONAL BALLADS FROM ANDALUCIA AuRELio Macedonio Espinosa I CALIFORNIA presents a unique field for the student of European Folk-lore. The currents of European tradition which in the future will mingle and make more and more difficult the task of the folk-lorist are at present easily differentiated. The oldest and strongest current is the Old Spanish. Central and Southern California have been for more than two centuries centers of Spanish tradition. During the last thirty years the strongest currents of European tradi- tion have been the Italian and the Portuguese. Recently a new current of Spanish tradition has appeared. Spanish immigrants, of the lower classes, are coming to California in large numbers, especially from Anda- lucia. The Spanish folk-lorist who in the future will gather Spanish folk-lore in California must distinguish carefully between these two currents of Spanish tradition. During the last five years I have begun to collect California Spanish Folk-lore in a comprehensive manner, as I collected New Mexican Spanish Folk-lore years before. In my folk-lore expeditions my principal purpose has been to collect the Old Spanish material which came from Spain and Mexico in the XVIIth and XVIIIth centuries. In collecting this material, however, I have not neglected to collect also the Spanish material of recent date, part of which is now published. Perhaps the most precious material which the Spanish folk-lonst may collect concerns the Romancero, or the traditional ballads. The ballad tradition seems to be much stronger in Spain than in Spanish Cahfornia or New Mexico. My present collection of traditional Spanish ballads gathered from the old California Spaniards is not any more abundant than that collected from the recent immigrants from Southern Spain. The former is, of course, more important in all respects, because it represents an older tradition and a greater diffusion, and like the New Mexican collection ^ reveals the strength and vitality of Spanish ballad tradition as preserved in the most distant and separated regions of the Old Spanish empire beyond the seas. ^^omancero Nuevomejicano, published in Revue Hispanique, April, 1915. 94 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME II The Andalusian ballads collected in California follow. They are transcribed as near as possible to the dictated form, using the Spanish alphabet. Since the main features of the dialect of Andalucia are so well known, thanks to the Quintero brothers, it is not necessary to treat of these matters here. As to final s, my own observations lead me to believe that it is usually silent before a consonant, but pronounced before a vowel. Some of my reciters, however, pronounced A or a distinct final j even before a consonant. In the question of juxtaposed vowels I found striking differences between the Andalusian and other Spanish dialects known to me. In Andalusian elision and contraction seem to be much more common than in the New Mexican and California Spanish, where synalepha is the rule, the weaker of the juxtaposed vowels changing so completely as to frequently change into a consonant, e. g. sabi uste (Andalusian) sah' ute. Comparative notes are given in III, I La Aparicion. — A. (Cordoba.) — iAnde va te, cabayero? ^Ande va triste de ti? — Voy en busca de mi esposa, qu ' base tiempo que la vi. — Ya tu esposa ya sta muerta ; el entierro yo lo vi ; y las senas que yevaba yo te las puedo desi. La carit' era de seda y los dientes de marfi, y un panuelo que yevaba er' un rico carmesi. Al entrar por el palasio una sombra negra vi. — No t' asuste, cabayero, no t' asuste tu de mi, que soy tu querida esposa, que te vengo a despedi. — Si eres mi querida esposa, echa los brasos a mi. — Los brasos que yo t' echaba a la tierra se los di. 2 La Aparicion. — B. (Malaga.) — iDonde va, buen cabayero? ^Donde vas triste de ti? — Voy en busca de mi esposa, dias ha que la perdi. — Pues tu esposa ya sta muerta ; muerta sta, que yo la vi. La yevaban entre cuatro, los mas ricos de Madri ; y de acompanamiento yeva mas de cuatrosientos mil. El velo que la cubria es de color carmesi ; la caja en que la yevaban toda era de marfi. TRADITIONAL BALLADS FROM ANDALUCIA — ESPINOSA 95 3 Lucas Barroso. (Herrera, Sevilla.) Alia va Lucas Barroso, vaquero de gayardia. — Suba, suba mi ganado por esas cuestas arriba, que si algun dano 1' hisiere su amo lo pagaria, con el me jo beserrito qu' hubiera 'n la vaqueria, hi jo del toro Pintado y la vaca Gerardiya. Dios la crio tan ligera, que volab' y no corria. Por aqueyos atajos de Ronda Los vaqueros hasen jondas, cuando suben una cuesta. Seviya no tiene cuestas, que todit' es tierra yana. Buena fruta es la mansana; nadie la coma con asco. Una vieja la comio, y de asco revento. 4 Altamar. (Herrera, Sevilla.) El rey moro tenia un hi jo que Paquito se yamaba. Navegando en artas mares se 'namoro de su hermana. Como no podia ser, cayo malito 'n la cama, con una calenturita, qu' a Dios le entriega su arma. Subio '1 padre a visitale,— iQue tienes, hijo del arma? —Padre, una calenturita, que a Dios le entriego '1 arma. —iQuieres que te mat' un ave, d' esa que se crian en casa. —Padre, matemel' ute; que me lo suba mi hermana. Como era 'n el verano se lo subio 'n naguas blancas. Cuando la vio de subi, se levanta de la cama; 1' agarro por la sintura, la tersio sobre su cama. — Der sielo bajo un castigo, qu' he deshonrado a mi hermana, un clavel disiplinado y una rosita temprana. 5 Elena.— A. (Viznar, Granada.) Estaba una nina bordando corbatas, agujas de oro y dedal de plata. o6 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME Yego un cabayero buscando posada. — Si mi madre quiere yo le dare 'ntrada. Le puso la mesa en medio la sala, cuchios de ore, cubiertos de plata. Le puso la cama en el cuartu e la sala, colchone de hilo, sabana d' Holanda. A la media noche jue y se levanto ; de las tres qu' habia Elena cogio. Se monta (a) cabayo y se la yevo, y en el mismo monte, ayi la dejo. A los veinte afios por ayi paso; tiro d' ima rama y Elena salio. Elena. — B. (Herrera, Sevilla.) Estab" una nina bordando corbata, aguja de oro y dedal de plata. Paso un cabayero pidiendo posada. — Si mi madre quiere, yo de buena gana. Le pus' una mesa en medio una sala, mantele de hilo, cubierto de plata. Le pus' una cama en medio una sala, colchone de hilo, sabana di Holanda. 7 Gerineldo. (Antequera, Malaga.) — Gerineldo, Gerineldo, Gerineldito puHdo, i quien te piyara sta noche tres horas a mi albedrio ! — Como soy vuestro criado, sefiora, burlais commigo. — No me burlo, Gerineldo, que de vera te lo digo ; qu' a la die s' acueta '1 rey, y a las onse ta dormido. Eso de las onse y media el rey pide su vestido ; no 'ncontro quien se lo diera, y al minuto s' ha vestido. Pidio la 'spada de oro, y entre los dos 1' ha metido. Se levanta la prinsesa tres horas del sol salido. — Gerineldo, Gerineldo, mira que semo perdido, que la 'spada de mi padre de testigo 1' ha servido. — iPor donde m' ire yo ora, para no ser conosido? TRADITIONAL BALLADS FROM ANDALUCIA — ESPINOSA 97 M' ire per esos jardines, cogiendo rosas y linos. El rey, como lo sabia, se le hiso apersebido. — iOnde vas tu, Gerineldo, tan palido y descolorido? — Vengo del jardin del rey, de coger rosas y lirios. —No lo niegues, Gerineldo ; con la prinses' has dormido. — Tengo '1 testamento jecho con escrito de mi estreya; mujer qu' ha sido mi dama no m' he de casar con eya. 8 Don Pedro. (Herrera, Sevilla.) Ya viene Don Pedro de la guerra herido; y viene con ansia por ver a su hijo. — Curemi ute, madre, 'ta(s) sincu heridas, que voy a la sala a ver la parida. — iComo ta, Teresa de tu fell parto? — Yo to bien, Don Pedro, si no vienes malo. Arrimam' el nifio, que le di un abraso, por si acaso muero, no mueru a su lado. A lo cuarenta paso Don Pedro 'spiro ; se quedaron los corasone traspasado de dolor. Digam' uste, mi suegra, como buen' amiga, ique ruido es ese qu' hay en la cosina? — Yo te dire, mi nuera, como grand' amiga, el juegu e los naipe, como stas parida. Ya compUo Teresa lo cuarenta dia ; s' etaba peinando para ir a misa. —Digam' ute, mi suegra, como grand' amiga, ique vetido me pongo para ir a misa? —El negro, mi nuera, el negro mi vida ; pontelo de luto, que te combenia. A 1' entrada por I' iglesia la gente desia : — iQue viuda tarn beya la resien parida! —Digam' ute, mi suegra, como grand' amiga, aqueya rasone iporque la(s) desian? Si Don Pedru ha muerto, yo no lo sabia. Also la cortina en grande silensio; agarro un cuchiyo, se corto '1 pecueso. Repiquen campana con mu grande pena, porque ya s' han muerto Don Pedru y Teresa. ^8 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME 9 Delgadina. (Herrera, Sevilla.) El rey moro tenia tres hijas, mah bonita que la plata, y la mail bonita d' eya Delgadina se yamaba. Estand' un dia comiendo su padre la retrataba. — Padre, ^que me mir' ute? ique tengo yo 'n eta cara? — Que tu ha de se mi muje, madrastra de tus hermanas. — No lo permitan lo sielo, ni la reina soberana, de qu' ote sea mi padre y yo sea su enamorada. — Vengan todo mi criado a Delgadina 'nserrala. Si pidiere de come dale de carne salada ; si pidiere de bebe dale sumo de retama. Al otro dia siguiente s' asomo por la ventana ; ha vitu a su hermosa hermana sentada 'n siya de plata. — Hermana, por se mi hermana, ^me dier' una taya di agua? El coraso me se seca y la vida me se acaba. — Yo te la diera, mi bien, yo te la diera, mi arma ; pero si padre s' entera a las do noh castigaba. Entro Delgadina p' adentro, que yorando reventaba; con lagrima de sus ojo toda la sala regaba; con la trensa de su pelo toda la sala crusaba. Al otro dia siguiente s' asomo por la ventana; ha vitu a su hermosa madre sentada 'n siya de plata. — Madre, por se te mi madre, ^me diera' una taya di agua? El coraso me se seca y la vida me se acaba. — Yo te la diera, mi bien, yo te la diera, mi arma; pero si padre s' entera a lah dos nos enserrara. Entro Delgadina p' adentro, que yorando reventaba; con lagrima de sus ojo toda la sala regaba; con la trensa de su pelo toda la sala crusaba. Al otro dia siguiente s' asomo por la ventana; ha vitu a su hermoso padre sentado 'n siya de plata. Padre, por se te mi padre, ^me dier' una taya di agua? que '1 coraso me se seca y la vida me se acaba. Vengan loh reyes d' oriente a Delgadina dar agua; el que yegare primero con Delgadina se casa. Por mucho que Hgeraron, Delgadina staba muerta. A la cabesera tiene una fuente di agua clara, y a loh pies tiene a la reina hasiendole la mortaja. La campana de la gloria pa Delgadina tocaban ; la campana del infiemo pa la madre y pa 1' hermana. TRADITIONAL BALLADS FROM ANDALUCIA — ESPINOSA 99 ID Carmela. ( Herrera, Sevilla.) Carmela se paseaba per una sal' adelante, con los dolore de parto, qii' el corason se le parte. — iOuien se piyar' una cama en medio d' aqueyos vayes! Laliiegra que 1' ecuchaba :— Corre, vete ca tu madre. Si viene Pedru a la noche, yo le pondre de sena; yo le dare ropa limpia si se quiere demuda. Llego Pedru a media noche.— Mi Carmela, idond' eta? — Sientate, hijo querido, que te tengo de conta. Tu Carmel' es una tuna, que m' ha querido pega. Ese hijo que tu tiene sabe Dios de quien sera. Monta Pedru en su cabayo, y su trabuco detra. Al regolve d' una 'squina s' ha 'ncontradu a su comadre. — Buena tarde tenga, Pedro, ya tenemos un infante ; del infante gosaremo. a Carmela Dios la salve. —i Carmela levanta ya? — ^Como quiere que levante? Con dos hora de parida ihay muje que se levante? L' agarraba por un braso. se la monto por delante. Anduvieron siete leguas uno y otro, sin hablarse. —Carmela, iporque no m' habla?— ^Como quiere que yo hable, si lo pecho der cabayo van regado de mi sangre? — Al regolve d' esa 'squina tengo intension de matarte. Un tiro ha sonado, ha sonado 'n esa parte. i -Quien s' ha muerto? ^ quien s' ha muerto? -La prmsesa d Olivare, responde un niiio chiquito, chiquitito de panale, —por un farso testimonio que le levanto su madre. II Camino de Belen. (Almeria.) Por aquel portiyo abierto, nunca lo vide serrado, paso la Virgen Maria, vestida de Colorado. El vestido que yevaba siempre lo vide manchado, que lo mancho Jesucristo con sangre de su costado. Caminemos. caminemos, caminemos pa Belen. Como el camino es tan largo, pidio '1 nino de beber. No pidas agua, mi vida, no bebas agua, mi bien, que los rios corren turbios y los arroyos tambien. lOO FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME Caminaron adelante; pidio '1 nifio de comer. — En las cuestas de San Diego hay un rico naranjel, que lo guarda un buen sieguito, siego que ni gota ve. — Dame, siego, una naranja para '1 nifio 'ntretener. — Entre uste, sefiora y coja las que sea de menester. Cantimas cogia la Virgen, mas echaba '1 naranjel. La Virgen, tan cortesana, no cogio nomas de tres; una le dio a su nino, y otra le dio a San Jose, y otra dejo 'n su falda para la Virgen goler. El siego que nunca vido or' ha comensado a ver. iQuien er' aqueya sefiora que le habia hecho tanto bien? Era la Virgen Maria, que caminaba pa Belen. 12 La Virgen y el Nifio Perdido. (Almeria.) La Virgen vistio a su nifio con una preciosa tela, para yevarlo a Belen a selebrar una fiesta. Se le perdio 'n el camino Sus ojos eran dos fuentes que regaban las arenas. S' encontro con dos mositos, s' encontro con dos donseyas ; les pregunto si habian visto al Redentor de la tierra. — De uste las seiias, sefiora, Puede ser que s' haya visto, o puede ser que se vea. — Lleva sapatitos blancos y unas moraditas medias, una tunica encarnada, bordada con seda negra, que la borde con mis manos, esta santa cuarentena. — Ese nifio, si sefiora, anoche 'stuvo en mi puerta ; pidio limosna y le di, posada porque quisiera. Le hise una rica cama, con almuadas de seda. El nino, tan cortesano, no quiso acostarse 'n eya ; en el rincon mas escuro qu' en aqueya casa hubiera. Otro dia por la mafiana decia d' esta manera: — Quedaos con Dios, mositos, quedaos con Dios, donseyas. i Que mi padre os de buen pago en aqueya gloria eterna ! 13 El Nifio Perdido. (Herrera, Sevilla.) — Madre, a la puerta hay un nifio mas hermoso qu' el sol bello. Yo digo que tenga frio porque viene medio en cueros. — Pues, dile que entre; se calentara TRADITIONAL BALLADS FROM ANDALUCIA ESPINOSA lOI porque nesta tierra ya no hay carida; porque la qu' habia s' ha 'cabado ya. Entro '1 nino, se sento; s' hiso que se calentaba. Le pregunto la patrona:— iDe que tierra? ^de que patria? — Mi padre del sielo, mi madre tambien ; yo baj' a la tierra para padeser. Hasle la cama (a) este nino en la 'Icoba y con primor, No me r hag' uste senora, que mi cama es un rincon, que mi cama es el suelo desde que nasi; y hasta que me muera ha de ser asi. Ante que fuera de dia el nino se levanto. Le dijo a la patronsita : — Uste quedara con Dios. Con Dios, patronsita, la paga vendra; si no esta noche, por la madruga. Ante que fuera de dia ya 'taba el nino en la puerta, con una fanega de trigo y en la mano una peseta. — Tom' uste, patrona, tom' uste, mujer, torn' uste la paga del anocheser. Ill Inasmuch as I have elsewhere studied in a comparative way some of the ballads mentioned below, I content myself with general references in the notes to those ballads.=^ Owing to lack of space I give complete biblio- graphical data only in the case of recent works, and those not well known. 1,2. These are fragmentary versions of a well known traditional ballad, the first versions of which appear in pliegos sueltos, and date from the sixteenth century, if not earlier. See Romancero Nuevo- mejicano, Nos. 20, 21, 22 ; Menendez y Pelayo, Tratado de los Romances Viejos, II. 533-534, and Antalogia, X, 53 (Asturian), 24 (Andalusian) ; Menendez Pidal, Los Romances Tradicionales en America (Cultura Es- panola, 1906), No. 17; Mila y Fontanals, Romancerillo, 227; Juan Men- endez Pidal, Poesia Popular, No. 73 ; Narciso Alonzo Cortez, Romances Populares de Castilla (Valladolid, 1906), 32-34; Braga, Romanceiro Geral Portugues (3d Ed., 1906), 36-78. In the Portuguese versions the old Spanish ballad is confused and mixed with the ballad Bernal Frances. MrTmy Romancero Nuevomejicano, prepared in 1913, but published in ipiS- Some of my notes need revision and amplification in view of the important American Spanish collections published in the meantime. Additional remarks are also given in my review of the work of Vicuna Cifuentes, mentioned below. S/JsITA EAFJ^ARA STATE COLLEGE LIBRAk I02 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME The Cuban version of our ballad is not a traditional version, but of very recent date. See Chacon y Calvo, Romances Tradicionales en Cuba (Habana, 1914), 97-100. It is evident that the Castilian versions are the oldest, as Vicuna Cifuentes states in his notes to the ballad of La Adultcra (Julio Vicuna Cifuentes, Romances Populares y Vulgares, reco- gidos de la tradicion oral chilena (Santiago, 1912), 100.' The best version is the Asturian. The two Andalusian versions now published are directly connected with the Andalusian version 24, cited above. See also Menendez Pidal, Cat. del Romancero, Jud-Esp., 56, and Duran, Roman- cero General, 292. 3. The first version of this ballad was collected by Rodriguez Marin in Osuna (Andalucia) and published by Menendez y Pelayo, Antologia, X, 22. Our present Sevillan version is in all respects the same version, with the exception of the last verses, which, though somewhat suspicious, seem to belong to a traditional version. This evidence is derived largely from the fact that the Chile versions have similar verses, although with a change of assonance. See Vicuna Cifuentes, Romances, Populares y Vulgar es, Nos. 55-59, and my review, op. cit., 54. Cifuentes gives five versions, the first one being the best and longest yet found. It is in this version that the last verses of the Sevillan version now published appear, although in somewhat different language. These are totally lack- ing in the Osuna version. 4. The first known Spanish version of this ballad of Biblical tradi- tion, was the Osuna version of Rodriguez Marin, published in the Boletin Folklorico Espanol, and reprinted by Menendez y Pelayo, Antologia, X, 196-197. While the present Sevillan version is essentially the same ballad, the little differences in language are extremely interesting and valuable for the reconstruction of the original version. In some cases the verses are decidedly different. The substitution of the name Paquito (in the Seville version) and Taquino (in the other) are worthy of note. Taquino for Amon is the first substitution. Paquito was a later substitution. See also the note of Menendez y Pelayo. Cortes, Romances Poptdares de Castillo, 109-111, gives three long and interesting versions of the same ballad, but the language does not reveal great interest. All three versions seem to me to be new versions, with the traditional elements fused with more recent additions. The Jewish version published by Menendez Pidal in his Catdlogo del 'This welcome .-Xmerican Spanish collection of Traditional Spanish ballads is the best collection of popular Spanish ballads made within recent years. See my review in Bulletin dc Dialectologie Romane, V, 49-54- TRADITIONAL BALLADS KKOM ANDALUCIA ESPINOSA IO3 Romancero Judio-Espanol, No. 2)7^ preserves the Biblical names un- changed. 5, 6. In AntoloiTia, X, 210, Menendez y Pelayo published the first Spanish version of this ballad, which he supposed to be of Portuguese origin. His words follow: "Es uno de los pocos romances cuyo origen portugues es indudable, puesto que se refiere a la patrona de Santaren, cuya leyenda, tomada de un antiguo Breviario de fivora, puede leerse en el tomo XIV de la Espaiia Sagrada (389-391). En las provincias de lengua castellana no parece que esta muy difundida: yo solamente co- nozco esta version leonesa." Since these lines were written we know much more about this ballad. There are two forms of the same ballad, one in octosyllabic verses and the other in six-syllable verses. The Leonese version of the Antologia, as w-ell as the Castilian version of Cortes, Romances Populares de Castilla, 108, are in octosyllabic verses and belong to a distinct class by themselves. The version of Cortes is by far the best. Menendez y Pelayo gives references to eight Portuguese versions, and these also divide themselves into the two classes above mentioned. In each class the same assonance prevails, in most cases. Our Andalusian versions now published, the one from Granada and the other from Sevilla, belong with the Castilian version from Uruguay, published by Menendez Pidal, Los Rom. Trad, en America, No. 27, and the various Portuguese and Galician versions published by Braga, Silvio Romero (see Menendez y Pelayo), Mila y Fontanals, Romania, VI, 52, etc. These are in six-syllable verses, or twelve if we consider the verses as long verses of two hemistiches. The Spanish versions are in many respects superior to the Portuguese versions. There is great similarity, however, and their primary source may be Portuguese, as Menendez y Pelayo supposes. To me, this supposition is by no means conclusive. The fact that the legend is of Portuguese origin is not evidence that any ballad composed after the legend became known is Portuguese ; and the two present Spanish versions from Andalucia, together with the Uruguay version, show that Spanish tradition has a very old ballad in the shorter meter, which does not show any signs of Portuguese origin. The fact that the Portuguese versions have been known before the Spanish ver- sions, has made some scholars believe that these were ballads of purely Portuguese origin. I do not even admit that the shorter meter is only a Galician or Asturian ballad meter. 7. The legend of Gerineldo and the various Spanish ballads that treat of it have received the attention of various scholars. In Spanish ballad tradition the legend is very common, although in some of the best and I04 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME most extensive collections recently made the ballad of Gerineldo is con- spicuously missing; for example, in the excellent collection of Chile by Vicuiia Cifuentes.* Generally speaking, however, the ballad of Gerineldo is very common in modern tradition. For a good classification and study of all the Gerineldo ballads known and published up to 1891, see especially Hans Otto, La Tradition d' Eginhard et Emma dans la poesie romanesca de la Peninsule Hispanique, in Modern Language Notes, Dec. 1892. The diffusion and development of the legend in Spain are studied by Menen- dez y Pelayo, Tratado de los Romances Viejos, II, 404-406. In addition see, for further study and more versions, Menendez Pidal, Cat. del Romancero Jud-Esp., No. loi ; Duran (old versions), Romancero Gene- ral, 320, 321 ; Juan Menendez Pidal, Poesia Popular, 3, 4, 5 ; Braga, I, 177, etc. ; Cortes, Romances Pop. de Castilla, 5-7 ; A. Rodrigo de Azevedo, Romanceiro do Archipelago de Madeira (Funchal, 1880), 63; Mila y Fontanals, Romancerillo, 269 ; Antonio Castro Leal, Cuba Con- tempordnea, 1914, 239-242; and lastly, Romancero Nuevomejicano, Nos. 7, 8, 9, and Primavera, 161, 161 a. Our present version from Malaga is incomplete. The Asturian and Andalusian versions given by Menendez y Pelayo, Antologia, X, 32-35 and 161-164, are better preserved. The last two verses of the present Malaga version, with a change of assonance, seem to be a late addition. They do not belong to the original ballad, and are probably from another ballad. The same idea, but in different words and assonance, is found in other older ballads, for example Tenderina, Antologia, X, 47: — Con esta espada me maten, con esta que al lado traigo, si mujer que me dio el cuerpo nunca con ella me caso. In Primavera, 139, we have even the same assonance: — No quiero hacer, caballeros, para mi cosa tan fea, en tomar yo por mujer la que tuve por manceba. 8. This is a complete and important version of a well known Spanish ballad which is found in Spain in two characteristic forms, the twelve and sixteen-syllable meters. The present version is almost identical with the one from Extremadura published in Antologia, X, 177-178. Both are variants of the same ballad. The Asturian versions of Antologia, X, * See my review, op. cit., p. 52. In Introduccion, p. xxv, however, Vicuna Cifuentes speaks of a lost fragment of this ballad. TRADITIONAL BALLADS FROM ANDALUCIA ESPINOSA IO5 IIO-II2, Juan Menendez Pidal, Poesia Popular, 47 and 48, Cortes, Romances Populares de Castilla, 80-81, are only indirectly related. These ballads are Spanish versions of the well known legend of Le Roi Renaud, celebrated in one of the most popular French chansons. The Spanish ballads which continue in Spain this charming legend, together with various Portuguese, Catalonian and even Italian songs or ballads, are directly connected and related with the French chanson, which was the source of their inspiration ; and the French version of the story is in turn inspired in an Armorican gwerz. This last form of the legend is derived from Scandinavian sources which find their origin in old Ger- manic traditions.^ The Spanish ballads, and in particular the Andalusian versions, pre- serve practically the complete legend. The last verse of the version from Extremadura reminds one of the beautiful and identical verse from the Chanson de Roland. Both follow : — Si don Pedro es muerto, no es razon (que) yo viva. Quant tu ies morz dulur est que jo vif. 2030 9. This is the most popular ballad of Spanish tradition. The present version is essentially the same as the Andalusian versions pubhshed by Menendez y Pelayo, and mentioned below. The only point worthy of mention here is the fact that the closing verses call the mother and sister to judgment and leave the father unpunished. The ballad of Delgadina reproduces a legend which has a most com- plicated and extensive history. There are current in European tradition hundreds of tales and songs that treat of one or another form of the legend; and indeed some of the apparently connected versions of the legend or legends may have no connection whatever. The literature on the subject is so extensive that it is impossible to give even a brief summary of the most characteristic forms of the legend. In the Spanish ballads the story is usually the account of a king who falls in love with his daughter, and her subsequent imprisonment and death. Hundreds of Spanish, Portuguese and Catalonian versions of the ballad have been found. The majority of the versions found thus far, and a discussion of these with comparative notes, are found in the following publications : Menen- dez y Pelayo, Antologia, X, 126-131 and 167-176; Juan Menendez Pidal, Poesia Popular, 74, 75 and 76 ; Menendez Pidal, Los Rom. Trad, en Amer., 29; and Cat. del Romancero Jud-Esp., 98 and 99; Ciro Bayo, ^e Menendez y Pelayo, Antologia, X, 112-115; G. Doncieux. Romania, XXIX, 219-256. I06 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME Romancenllo del Plata (Madrid, 1913). 28; Cortes, Romances Pop. de Castilla, 29-30; Chacon y Calvo. Romances Tradicionales en Cuba, 81-88; Carolina Poncet, El Romance en Cuba, 254-260 and 278-282 ; Rodrigues de Azevedo, Romanceiro do Archipelai!:o da Madeira, 106-112; Mila y Fontanals, Romanccrillo Catalan, 29; Almeida Garrett, Romanceiro, (Lisboa, 1904), I, 106; Braga, Romanceiro Geral, I, 447-480; Julio Vicuna Cifuentes, Romances Populares y Vulgares, 27-44; Romancero Neuvomejicano, Nos. 1-6 and page 16. For more general studies of the legends related to the ballad of Del- gadina, see especially Menendez y Pelayo, Tratado de los Romances Viejos, II, 513-516; Vicufia Cifuentes, cited above; Chacon y Calvo, cited above; Braga, Romanceiro Geral, III, 453-464; Hermann Suchier, Oeiivres poetiques de Philippe de Remi Sire de Beaumanoir, (Paris, 1884), introduction, 23-96; and lastly, the important work of Rodolfo Lenz, Un Grupo de Consejas Chilenas, (Anales, 1912), especially pages 96-150. 10. This ballad is not found in the old collections, but it must be very old, since it is found in the modern tradition of nearly all Spanish coun- tries. The present version is one of the best, and is essentially the same version as the Andalusian version of Rodriguez Marin, published in Antologia, X, 191. The Asturian versions given on pages 93-97 of this publication treat of the same subject, but the form of the ballad is en- tirely different. All these ballads are varying forms of the tale of the persecuted uife and wicked mother-in-law. For a brief discussion of the relation and diffusion of the various Spanish and Portuguese ballads which treat of this theme, see Menendez y Pelayo, Antologia, X, 97-98, and Tratado de los Romances Viejos, II, 513; Braga, Romanceiro Geral, 1, 556-584. HI, 473-478. For the additional versions of Spain, Portugal and Catalonia, see especially the following works : J. Menendez Pidal, Poesia Popular, No. 36; Mila y Fontanals, Romancerillo, 243; Cortes, Rom. Pop. de Castilla, 37-43 (three long and complete versions) ; Rodriguez de Azevedo, Romanceiro do Archipelago de Madeira, 186-190; Antologia, X, 221, 226, 227, 313 (Jewish Version); Almeida Garrett, Romanceiro, III, 40-48; Carolina Michaelis in Revista Lusitana, vols. VIII, IX. Strangely enough this ballad is not found in any of the American Spanish collec- tions, although it is one of the most popular in Spain. II. The best version thus far known of this beautiful ballad was the Asturian version of J. Menendez Pidal, Poesia Popular, No. 90. The next best was the almost identical Andalusian version of Fernan Caballero, TRADITIONAL BALLADS FROM ANDALUCIA — ESPINOSA IO7 Cuentos y Poesias Pop., 274. Our present Andalusian version from Almeria is longer and in all respects superior to the others thus far known, and is therefore an important find. The first verses are evidently traditional and belong to the original version, since these are preserved in the fragmentary version from Cuba, published by Carolina Poncet, op. cit, 296, and in the fragmentary verses mentioned by Vicuna Cifuentes ; see below. Vicuiia Cifuentes, Romances Populares y Vulgares, 161-165, gives five versions from Chile, the first two of which are well preserved. Fragmentary versions are also found in Menendez y Pelayo, Antologia, X, 216-243; Menendez Pidal, Los Rom. Trad, en America, No. 10; Rodriguez Marin, Cantos Populares Esp., IV, 165: Mila y Fontanals, Romancerillo, 3; Cortes, Rom. Pop. de Castilla, 121-122. See also the notes of Vicuna Cifuentes, 165-168. 12. This ballad, like Nos. 11 and 13, belongs to a long series of Span- ish ballads that narrate various traditional episodes of the Hfe of the Child Jesus and the Virgin. I have not seen any version published thai can be compared with it, although some of the versions show a vague relation. See the following notes. 13. Fernan Caballero, Cuentos y Poesias Populares, 272-273, gives a ballad which narrates the principal episode mentioned here, but the direct relation between the two versions is not clear. The two may be entirely independent. Chacon y Calvo, Romances Tradicionales en Cuba, 115-116, how- ever, gives a complete and almost identical version. Because the ballad was not to be found in any of the collections consulted, Chacon y Calvo printed the Cuban version, as he states, with suspicion, evidently suspect- ing the genuineness of the ballad. He need have no fears. Our present version from Seville confirms the authenticity of this traditional ballad. This last version is the best of the two. The Cuban version is so close to the Andalusian that I beheve it is not old. It must be a version brought from Andalucia recently, i. c., in the nineteenth century. The form is interesting, since two metres are employed ; but this fact is of no conse- quence here. Much of the ballad material that narrates the episodes of the life of Jesus, the nativity, etc., is of a dramatic character, and the metrical variations are necessary. The two metres used, the octosyllabic and the hexasyllabic, are the two common Spanish ballad metres. THE MEANING OF CAELUM IN THE SIXTH BOOK OF THE "AENEID" Henry Rushton Fairclough IN THE Sixth Aeneid, of which Robert Louis Stevenson once wrote: "one of the most astonishing pieces of Hterature, or rather it contains the best I ever met with," Virgil takes his readers down to the lower world. Here, guided by the Sibyl, Aeneas sees marvelous sights, and the poet in his own wonderful way describes the entrance to hell, the shores of Acheron with Charon and the ghosts of the departed, the neutral ground where dwell the untimely dead, the Fields of Mourning, the fortress of Tartarus, the Blissful Groves of Elysium, and finally the retired vale by the stream of Lethe, where are mustered the countless spirits of those who are again to live on earth. In describing this world below, it is obvious that the poet deals with what transcends his own experience. The physical aspects of the other world are actually unknown to him, and he must speak of them in terms of the terrestrial and celestial regions which are known. This may be illustrated by his beautiful account of Elysium. Here in this land of joy are the amoena virecta Fortunatorum Nemorum, "the green pleasaunces of the Blissful Groves. Here an ampler ether clothes the meads with roseate light, and they know their own sun, and stars of their own." The blessed ones enjoy, as we on earth do, sun, stars, air, groves and meadows ; but they have the glory "Of all that is most beauteous — imaged there In happier beauty: more pellucid streams. An ampler ether, a diviner air And fields invested with purpureal gleams; CUmes which the sun, who sheds the brightest day Earth knows, is all unworthy to survey." This fact, that terms properly belonging to the earth on which we stand, and to the sky at which we may gaze, are sometimes used by the poet in connection with the lower world, has been occasionally forgotten by Virgilian scholars. MEANING OF CAELUM IN AENEID FAIRCLOUGH IO9 Perhaps the best example of this is furnished by the word caelum, which Virgil is forced to employ in different senses, according to the context. Thus in v. 724, where Aeneas begins to expound the doctrine of the anima mundi, the word caelum is used in its ordinary sense, as contrasted with the earth (terra), water (campi liquentes), the moon (luna), and the sun (Titania astra). So in v. 849, caelique meatus is used of the astronomer's calculations of the courses of the stars through the heaven. Similarly in v. 790, Hie Caesar et omnis luli progenies, magnum caeli ventura sub axem, the meaning is : "Here is Caesar, and all the seed of lulus, destined to pass beneath the sky's mighty vault." The verse refers to the future birth on earth of Caesar Augustus, and his house. It has, however, been misunderstood, so that Servius comments thus : id est, ad divitios hon- ores; as if magnum caeli ventura sub axem meant "destined to ascend to heaven." Lachmann also understood the words to refer to the apothe- osis of Augustus ; and even Jackson, in the latest translation of Virgil, gives us "destined to ascend the great cope of heaven." Fairfax-Taylor, too, errs in rendering "And Caesar and lulus' race behold. Waiting their destined advent to the skies." These mistakes are due to the use of caelum, which at once suggests deification ; but a moment's consideration is sufficient to show that while caelum is undoubtedly the sky or heaven, ventura sub places the sphere of action on earth. There are, however, certain passages where caelum is no longer used in its ordinary sense. Thus in v. 719 sq., Aeneas expresses astonishment that souls unborn should have a mad longing for the light, Quae lucis miseris tarn dira cupido? and asks this question : O pater, anne aliquas ad caelum hinc ire putandum est sublimis animas iterumque ad tarda reverti corpora ? no FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME "But, father, must we think that any souls pass aloft to the sky, and return a second time to sluggish bodies?" Here Servius tells us that Virgil mixes poetry and philosophy, miscet philosophiae figmenta poetica. The poets understood by caelum the upper world, iit superos intellegamns, id est nostram vitam. The philosopher, however, would recognize Virgil's phrase as equivalent to ad caelum reverti. However, we need not inquire whether Virgil wished to convey here some esoteric teaching. The poetical meaning of passing to a life on earth is certainly intended, so that for caelum in v. 719 we could con- ceivably substitute terram. Caelum in fact, in this passage, implies that to the dwellers in the lower world this earth is their sky, up to which they might cast longing eyes, as to their future home. Doubtless the word is preferable to terram, because while the latter implies dead matter, caelum suggests the light and air which give life to man. Near the very end of the book occurs a line, v. 896, in which caelum again has this meaning. Of the two gates of Sleep, one is of horn, the other of ivory, sed falsa ad caelum mittunt insomnia Manes, "but false are the dreams sent by the spirits to the world above." Here there is no question that the dreams referred to are sent to those living on this earth, which is the sky or heaven of the Manes, or ghosts. We are now prepared to consider the meaning of caelum in the dif- ficult passage descriptive of Tartarus, vv. 577-581. Tum Tartarus ipse bis patet in praeceps tantum tenditque sub umbras, quantus ad aetherium caeli suspectus Olympum. Hie genus antiquum Terrae, Titania pubes, fulmine deiecti fundo volvuntur in imo. As is well known, this passage is based on a verse in Iliad, 8, 16, Toooov evspd' 'Ai6eo), ooov oiipavog lox djto yair]?" 'as far beneath Hades as heaven is away from earth.' The only real difference here between Virgil and Homer is that the Roman poet doubles the distance, making Tartarus tzvice as far below Hades as earth is below heaven. This is a favorite device of the poets, and Milton tries to improve on both Virgil and Homer, for his fallen angels are MEANING OF 'CAELUM' IN "aENEID" FAIRCLOUGH III "As far removed from God and light of heaven As from the center thrice to the utmost pole." But the Virgilian passage has caused much trouble. First there is the question as to the precise meaning of suspectus, then as to whether caeli depends on suspectus or on Olympum, and lastly as to the use of both caeli and actherium Olympum. The natural meaning to assign to suspectus is 'upward look' ; but as in turris erat vasto suspectu, (Aeneid g, 530), it is virtually 'height,' some have thought that here too Virgil speaks of the height of heaven, the idea being that Tartarus extends downward twice as far as is the distance from the sky's floor to the highest peak of Olympus. Servius glosses the word with altitudo. Sidgwick seems to waver between these two possible renderings, and it is to be noticed that Lewis and Short cite our passage for the meaning of "a height" for suspectus. Donatus supposed the meaning to be that the depth of Tartarus below Hades is as great as the height of heaven above Hades ; but the Homeric passage leads us to expect a comparison between the distance from Hades to Tartarus and that from earth to heaven. Henry supposes Virgil's meaning to be that "Tartarus is twice as deep below, as heaven is high above, the ground," i. e. this earth is the common factor in the compari- son. In support of his view Henry cites Silius 3, 483, where the poet has "the Alps ascend as high above the ground as Tartarus descends below." To assign the secondary meaning of height to suspectus here, merely on the support of Aeneid 9, 530, seems distinctly forced, and it is not sur- prising that most scholars accept the literal rendering of 'upward look' as sufficient. There still remains a question as to the syntax of caeli, which Ladewig connects with Olympum, the heavenly Olympus being distinguished from the Thessalian mountain. An interesting view, men- tioned by Conington, is that of Petit, a French scholar, who, observing that the verse immediately following, viz., v. 580, mentions the Titans, the sons of Caelus and Gaia (or Terra), conceived the idea of transposing the two words caeli and Terrae, so that terrae suspectus would mean 'the upward look from earth.' Conington's own solution of the difficulty is to take caeli suspectus as 'the looking up to heaven,' the words ad aether- ium Olympum "being added to develop the thought." In this most mod- ern editors follow him. Thus Knapp gives the rendering 'skyward view,' and Sidgwick translates the phrase "the upward look to heaven," and for ad aetherium Olympum gives "to the summit of Olympus." 112 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME But Sidgwick's objection that, according to this view, the words ad aetherium Olympum are "almost superfluous with caeli" is not only valid, but also sufficient to condemn the rendering. Page writes : "it is really a view through the sky to heavenly Olympus," i. e. from the earth, and with this I agree. This is the meaning that we expect a priori to find, in view of the Homeric verse ; it is the meaning that Petit would give to the passage by means of a violent transposition ; but it is also the mean- ing which we can find in the words as they stand, and without doing violence to the language. All that is necessary is to recognize in caeli another illustration of the use of caelum to indicate the world above for those who are in the lower world, namely, this earth ; for, as Henry says, "what most distinguishes this world from Hades is the caelum which af- fords it both air and light." Hence the simplest and most correct render- ing of our passage is : "Then Tartarus itself yawns sheer down, stretch- ing into the gloom twice as far as is yon sky's (earth's) upward view to heavenly Olympus." Closely parallel to this use of caelum for the earth is that of aether, which is sometimes found for aer. Thus of the unhappy suicides whom Aeneas saw in Hades, the poet exclaims, Aeneid 6, 436 sq. : Quam vellent aethere in alto nunc et pauperiem et duros perferre labores! "How gladly now, in the air above, would they bear both want and harsh distress !" The words aethere in alto would naturally mean "in the upper ether" or "in heaven" ; but again the heaven of Hades is the air we breathe on earth. So of Silvius, the first of the souls to be born, Virgil says (v. 761) : primus ad auras aetherias .... surget, "he first shall rise into the air of heaven." Henry cites similar uses of the word aether, as Aeneid i, 587; 7, 65; 8, 701, and comments on Vir- gil's extreme "laxity of expression," of which perhaps the most striking instance is afforded by Aeneid 7, 767-8, where Hippolytus, restored to life, is said ad sidera rursus aetheria et superas caeli venisse sub auras, "to have come again to the stars of heaven, and beneath the air of the sky above." Here, after a manner not uncommon in Virgil, the more MEANING OF 'CAELUM' IN "aENEID" FAIRCLOUGH II3 peculiar expression, which cannot be taken with strict Hteralness, is fol- lowed by one which, though quite poetical, is more precise and has almost the character of a gloss, explanatory of the one preceding. And in this particular case it is to be noted that caelum is used in its common and literal sense, the peculiarity lying wholly in sidera aetheria, for Hippolytus certainly did not rise as far as the stars of heaven, when he ascended from the shades infernal ad lumina vitae (v. 771). THE AUTHORSHIP OF "TITUS ANDRONICUS" Henry David Gray THAT Titus Andronicus is a genuine Shakespearean play has been the behef of Half-Rome ; the Other Half-Rome has risen to vin- dicate Shakespeare from the reproach of having written such a play ; while a wiser Tertium Quid, emphasizing the tradition established by Ravenscroft in 1687, has taken Shakespeare to be the reviser of another's play. The proposal I have to submit is, that Shakespeare was the original author of the piece, and that such un-Shakespearean passages as we find in it are due to the revision of his work by other men. We are accustomed to think of Shakespeare as having served his apprenticeship in revising older plays. What we ought to have supposed all this time is that the Stratford youth of dramatic bent composed several original and unactable plays before ever he sought his fortune in the world ; that he came to London in the hope of disposing of them ; and that his work was handed over to the established playwrights of the time for their revision. Those, other than Shakespeare himself, who have been suggested as possible authors of Titus Andronicus are Kyd (pro- posed by Farmer), Marlowe (by Fleay), Greene (by Grosart), and Peele (by Robertson). A moment's reflection should convince anyone that the work of none of these men would have been handed over for revision to this unknown youth from up Stratford way. If a young man to-day wished to make his entry into the theatrical world, he would write several plays and submit them ; but he would not be given the work of Pinero, Jones, Shaw, or Barrie to revise. It is a presumption by which I am quite willing to stand that if Shakespeare was the original author of Titus Andronicus, the main body of the play as we now have it is of his making. The distinctively Shake- spearean passages are for the most part inherent in the structure of the drama. Those who cull these finer passages and call them Shakespeare's can only say that here are such lines as so great a poet might well have written ; they forget that one does not revise a play by putting into it certain noble passages at haphazard. On the other hand, those parts of AUTHORSHIP OF TITUS ANDRONICUS GRAY II 5 the play which are most un-Shakespearean have in every instance a struc- tural explanation for their having been inserted.^ The external evidence in favor of Shakespeare's authorship of Titus Andronicus is overwhelming. It must be remembered that Ileminge and Condell were associated with Shakespeare from the time when this play was produced. These friends and "fellows" of his knew whether or not Shakespeare was the author ; and though they were eager to give him all they could, they would scarcely have assigned to him any play which could not with some show of justice be called "his." But while the in- clusion of Titus in the First Folio implies only that the play was largely Shakespeare's, the mention of it by Meres in 1598 means, I am convinced, distinctly more than this. Meres was an educated man addressing an enlightened audience ; he had his facts well in hand, — he even knew of the private circulation of the Sonnets. If he had been governed so com- pletely by his love of sixes as is sometimes said, he had Henry VI to choose, — and Shakespeare's claim to very extended passages in this is of course undoubted. The reason why Meres did not include either Henry VI or The Taming of the Shreiu was, I firmly believe, that he knew (and many of his readers would know ) that Shakespeare was only the reviser of these plays. If my contention as to Titus is right, then Meres' record is clear; he included every play of which Shakespeare was the original author, and, appropriately, none which he had only revised. The reasons for doubting the direct evidence of those who knew, and who made no other such mistake, must indeed be weighty. Our modern feeling is most in revolt as regards the very subject of the play. It is, as Gerald Massey says, a tragedy of Horror, not of Terror. Professor Dowden adds that on this account it "belongs to the pre-Shakespearean school of bloody dramas. . . . That Shakespeare himself entered with passion or energy into the literary movement which the Spanish Tragedy of Kyd may be taken to represent, his other early writings forbid us to believe." ^ But instead of recalling the comedies, as Pro- fessor Dowden then does, we should consider only Shakespeare's work in Henry VI and Richard III, and such later survivals of the Tragedy of Horror as the gouging out of Gloucester's eyes. I am afraid that I can find no inherent unlikelihood in Shakespeare's outdoing Kyd in the blood- ^ The only Shakespearean passage which may be isolated on a structural study of the drama is the scene in which Marcus kills the fly (III, ii) ; and that this was a part of Shakespeare's work which was omitted by the revisers is indicated by its absence from the quartos and its inclusion by Shakespeare's personal friends in the First Folio. ' Shakespeare — His Mind and Art, 48. Il6 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME iness and horror of his first tragedy, just as he outdoes Lyly in the arti- ficiality of his first comedy. Shakespeare was not only imitative in his earliest works ; he was, if I may use the paradoxical expression, creatively imitative. To the twins of Plautus he would add a second set of twins. If Endymion's love may not lead to marriage, and Semele flaunts Eumen- ides with cutting cleverness, and Sir Topas is a braggart, — then the princess and her three ladies in Love's Labour's Lost shall all put off the king and his three lords, and shall twit them with prolonged and out- rageous cleverness, while Don Armado and Holofernes are two brag- garts.^ If there were ten good killings to please Andrea's ghost in the Spanish Tragedy, then Titus Andronicus can show you fourteen murders, three amputated hands, a tongue cut out, a violation, and a banquet of human pie. Some of the most distressing and distasteful of these horrors I shall assign with a very good will to the revisers ; but that Shakespeare went beyond the limits of the Spanish Tragedy at the time when Kyd's play dominated the English stage, I think the most natural thing in the world. What would not be possible is that he wrote such a play as late as 1594, the date assigned by Mr. Fuller and by those who accept his in- genious but unnecessary theory. Turning from the theme of Titus Andronicus to its style, we find no clearly marked consensus of opinion. To begin with the poets, who have here, surely, most right to speak : Coleridge remarks that the metre is an argument against Titus Andronicus as being the work of Shakespeare, ''worth a score of such chronological surmises," * but he gives him V, ii, 20-60. Swinburne picks instead Act IV, scene iii. Mr. Arthur Symons registers at various passages which are generally brief and always lyrical.^ Dowden rejects ; Gosse accepts. Gerald Massey would have none of it. Mr. H. Bellyse Baildon will take it all.^ Where the poets diflfer so among themselves, we are forced to fall back upon the so-called "scientific" tests ; and here I come face to face with Mr. John M. Rob- ertson. Mr. Robertson's book, Did Shakespeare Write Titus Andronicus f ^ is an elaborate and pains-taking piece of work, and it is written by a man who knows his early Elizabethan literature with a thoroughness that is ^ But Holofernes may have been added in revision. * Lectures on Shakespeare, Bohn edition, 304. ■* Introduction to the Facsimile of the Quarto of 1600. '"Having tried to write nearly every known form of English verse and experimented in new ones, I think I may without vanity claim to be an expert in regard to versification." Arden edition, Introduction, p. Ixxviii. ' London : Watts & Co., 1905. AUTHORSHIP OF "tITUS ANDRONICUS" — GRAY II7 quite my despair. Yet I cannot free myself from the impression that Mr. Robertson has been carried away by his theory. We must admit that he gives a striking array of parallel passages between Titus and the works of Peele, as well as of Greene, Marlowe, Lodge, and Kyd. I never realized before how much Shakespeare was influenced by these men, and how much they, in turn, took from him. Of course many of the most strikinig of these instances occur in passages which I believe were added by the revisers, and so the cumulative effect of Mr. Robert- son's showing is somewhat lost on me. But many other parallels come in passages which I still believe to be Shakespeare's. One cannot ignore these recurrencences of phrase and idea; where they are most frequent we must be most cautious ; but I cannot feel that they are anywhere in Titus determinative. The only fair way to get the final value of these "echoes" is to match them with the echoes in Love's Labor's Lost. If any one will make a list of all the phrases in this comedy which are par- alleled in the works of Lyly and show it to be no more than twice as long as Mr. Robertson's assortment of Peele passages in Titus, I shall agree on my part to reconsider the problem. Of course we are more ac- customed to think of Love's Labor s Lost as directly and purposely imitative; but why should we not realize that Titus Andronicns was imitative, too? Closely akin to the argument from reminiscent images and phrases is the argument based on the "once-used words." Dr. Grosart gives a list of words in Titus Andronicns which occur nowhere else in Shakespeare but are used by Greene,^ and Mr. Robertson applies the test with rigor first to Peele and then to the others of the group. Simpson's table of the once-used words in Shakespeare's plays is still the answer. Here it ap- pears that Titus Andronicns contains 196 such words, while Love's Labor's Lost (to take the most pertinent example), contains 373.^ Will not some industrious person kindly hunt through the works of Lyly, with this list in hand, and thus prove for us that Lyly wrote Love's Labor's Lost? Mr. Robertson will have it that the table is not to be regarded, because it contains many "parts of verbs of which other parts appear often in other plays," and other words which are not really indicative. This is true enough; but the table treats all the plays in the same way, and is therefore relatively significant. Titus Andronicns contains fewer once- used words than do the majority of Shakespeare's dramas. By applying this test, who knows but we might prove that Ben Johnson was the author of Hamlet, and that Beaumont and Fletcher w^rote King Lear? Englische Studien, XXII, 417 f. 'New Shakespere Society Transactions, 1874, p. 115. Il8 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME A much more reliable test is that of the "double ending." Mr. Fleay counted these in all of Shakespeare's dramas; and his table^*^ shows a decided but by no means a uniform advance, from less than 2 percent in Love's Labor's Lost to 35 percent in The Winter's Tale. Mr. Fleay's countings were evidently done most hastily, or else he depended upon some careless assistant. He found only 9 double endings in Love'sLahor's Lost, for example, whereas Mr. Robertson gets 26. I have counted the double endings in Shakespeare's early plays, and find the following per- centages.^^ PERCENT PERCENT Titus Andronicus 7 Love's Labor's Lost 5 1 Henry VI 7 Comedy of Errors 14 2 Henry VI 10 Tzvo Gentlemen of Verona ... 15 ? Henry VI 10 Midsummer Night's Dream. . 6 Richard HI i? Merchant of Venice 14 Richard II 10 Taming of^ the Shrew 14 King John 4 [Induction 21 ] Romeo and Juliet 9 [Kath. and Pctr., scenes. . . 18] It will be seen from my table that any attempt to base a chronology on these percentages would be preposterous, but also that Shakespeare " New Shakespere Society Transactions, 1874, p. 16. " I have not counted the lines ending with such words as Heaven, power, and the like, where the natural scansion of the line does not seem to call for a separately sounded unstressed syllable at the end. I have also set aside the word Spirit, because so often a monosyllable. Compare the following speech from Peele's David and Bcthsabe with the opening lines of Hamlet's soliloquy : Bright Bethsabe shall wash in David's bower In water mixed with purest almond-flower, And bathe her beauty in the milk of kids; Bright Bethsabe gives earth to my desires, Verdure to earth, and to that verdure flowers, To flowers sweet odours, and to odours wings To carry pleasures to the hearts of kings. To be, or not to be : that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them. A free indulgence in such "double endings" as we find in the passage from Peele is no indication that the author will use such endings as we find in the passage from Shakespeare. This difference in the method of counting makes my percentages differ from those of Mr. Robertson. AUTHORSHIP OF TITUS ANDRONICUS — GRAY II9 shows from the very first a strong tendency to employ the double ending. Mr. Robertson, who gets 9 percent of double endings in Titus Andron- icus, selects Love's Labor s Lost and A Midsummer Night's Dream to show that the percentage in Titus is too high for Shakespeare, and puts forward the claim of Peele on a showing of nearly 7 percent in the first act of David and Bethsahe and nearly 6 percent in the first act of his Battle of Alcazar. My method of counting only such cases of the double ending as are clear instances of it gives me 4 percent in the first act of David and Bethsabe and i percent in the play as a whole ; whereas there are only four double endings in the first act of The Battle of Alcazar, or slightly over i percent. Mr. Robertson suggests that the large per- centage of double endings in Richard III may be due to a part-authorship by Marlowe. But every scene in Richard III gives a percentage of double endings far in advance of any play or any scene in any play of Marlowe's undisputed authorship. Dr. Faustus contains 2 percent of double endings ; Tamburlaine between 2 and 3 percent ; The Jew of Malta 3.5 percent ; Edward II 3.8 percent ; The Massacre at Paris less than one and one-half percent; Dido, Queen of Carthage (with Nashe) less than one percent. This means that Marlowe never employs the double ending as frequently as Shakespeare always employs it. The case against Peele is even more decisive. The Arraignment of Paris is almost wholly rhymed; I note one double ending in 190 lines of blank verse. The Old Wives Tale has only about 150 lines of blank verse, and these yield five double endings. Edward I contains less than 2 percent ; The Battle of Alcazar 2.2 percent ; David and Bethsabe a little over one percent. Greene in his undoubted plays has so few double endings that it is not worth while to separate out his blank verse lines and count them in order to estimate the per- centages. Alphonsus, King of Arragon contains only three such endings, Orlando Furioso has nine, Friar Bacon four, James IV ten, A Looking- glass for London (with Lodge) nine.^^ I have gone into this matter in some detail because here, I think, we have an essential characteristic of a man's style. He may use once, and once only, a word frequently employed by a contemporary ; he may confiscate a simile or a phrase that he has heard ; but he will not write five plays with a sum total of 35 double endings (as Greene does), and then put 65 in a single act. There are more than twice as many double endings in Titus Andronicus alone as there are in all five of Peele's plays ^*Mr. Robertson finds seven percent in Georgc-a-Green, which is only another answer to those who persist in misattributing this play on the hearsay evidence of Ed. Juby. I20 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME put together. But take the five plays of Shakespeare nearest in date to the Titus: the average is 211 double endings to the play, which is a few more than the number found in Titus! Indeed, Shakespeare is the only one of these men who uses the double ending in his fully accredited plays with anything like the frequency that we find it in this drama. It is difficult to see, therefore, the justice of Mr. Robertson's conclusion: "In fine, Titus Andronicus cannot with any regard to its metrical phenomena be assigned to Shakespeare. Its double-endings, intelligible as coming from Peele, or Greene, or Kyd, are unintelligible as coming from him before 1596." ^^ Mr. Robertson also adduces the rime test and the proportion of prose lines as an argument against Shakespeare's authorship. As to the rime : Mr. Robertson wisely selects three conspicuously poetic plays to make his contrast. Let us put down with the Titus the other early plays which he omits. Titus Andronicus 144 rimed lines Comedy of Errors 380 Two Gentlemen of Verona. .116 Richard III 170 " King John 150 " " " Let us have the facts regarding the prose. Mr. Robertson says : "It has a much smaller quantity of prose (43 lines) than any other play ascribed to Shakespeare, except Richard III and Henry VIII, which iiave only a little more." He neglects to state that King John and Richard II contain no prose at all. That is to say, Titus contains about the same amount of prose as Shakespeare's next play of a serious or tragic nature, more than the next two of the same sort, and, as we should naturally expect, less than the comedies.^ ^ "Op. cit., 199. "The three parts of Henry VI contain, respectively, 314, 122, and 155 rimed lines. I am depending on Fleay's table. ^^ Fleay's table of the prose lines in the earlier plays is as follows : Titus Andronicus 43 lines Love's Labour's Lost 1086 T Henry VI none 2 Henry VI 44^ 3 Henry VI none Comedy of Errors 240 It will be seen that the only real doubt should be regarding the genuineness of Love's Labour's Lost! Tlie Two Gentlemen of Verona 409 lines Midsummer Night's Dream . . 441 " Richard III 55 " King John none Richard II none Romeo and Juliet 405 " AUTHORSHIP OF "TITUS ANDRONICUS" — GRAY 121 My conclusion so far is that only Shakespeare could have written the main portion of this play, and that the subject and treatment were entirely possible for him at the very beginning of his dramatic career. From just such a beginning should have come Richard III, and finally Hamlet and King Lear. But only in his first attempt at tragedy could Shakespeare have heaped up his horrors in the manner of Kyd, and paraded brutality and lust for the sake of mere sensation. This alone seems to me a sufficient answer to the ingenious theory of Fuller, even though it found an instant advocate in Professor Baker,^** and is accepted still by so careful a critic as Professor Schelling.^^ For according to this theory, Titus Andronicus must have been written at the period of A Midsummer Night's Dream and Richard II. If, as Mr. Fuller con- tends, Shakespeare wrote "practically every line" of the play as it now stands, it makes but little difference that he had two other plays as his sources. But there are further objections. It is almost a practical impossi- bility to put two plays together so that they will form one play; and Titus Andronicus itself gives not the slightest indication of having been dove-tailed in any such fashion. This theory compels us to believe that the English actors who played in Germany about 1600 used one of Shakespeare's sources instead of Shakespeare's own play which had superseded it; that in 1640 Shakespeare's play had not been translated into Dutch but that the other of his sources had been ; and finally that by the end of the century a German author using Vos's pre-Shakespearian source had written a play identical with Vos's at all points except that he kept instead of changing the name of Lavinia. It is not necessary to imagine all this. The German Titus gives every appearance of being a debased version of Shakespeare's drama; it is much closer to the original in plot than the Romeo and Juliet or the Hamlet. The actors seem to have had no copy of the play, but to have produced it from memory. The plot is reduced to its naked essentials. Only the name of Titus Andronicus himself is remembered, and the names of the others were got by as simple a means as was possible ; thus the daughter of Andronicus is Andronica, the Queen of Ethiopia is Aetopissa, Aaron the Moor is Morian, Saturninus is simply "The Roman Emperor," while Marcus received the fanciful name of "Victoriades." That Shakespeare's Lucius is here Vespacian may simply be because Vespacian ends the play as Emperor of Rome; though here, perhaps. "Publications of the Modern Language Association, 1901, p. 66. " Elizabethan Drama, I, 221. 122 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME a remembrance of the old play of lltus and Vespacia may have supplied the association. It has been noted that the play of Titus and Vespacia may have dealt with two Roman emperors, and need have no connection with Shakespeare's Titus Andronicus ; and since Henslowe writes it "Vespacia" all six times, it is at least possible that this character zvas a woman ! That the program of 1699 supplies the name of Lavinia indicates only that the translator of Vos's play into German (presumably George Greflinger, in 1650), restored the familiar name from some slightly different modification of the German piece than the one which we happen to have preserved. But there is one significant point of difference between the German version and the English play as we have it, and this is one in which the German distortion is more like Shakespeare than is the Shakespearian Titus. I refer to the greater emphasis which is placed upon the victorious return of Lucius with his army, which seems to me essential to Shake- speare's original conception of this drama. Following Cohn's translation, we read at the beginning of Act VII : "Beat of drums and flourish of trumpets. Vespasian approaches Rome with his army, having made great havoc, and desolated all the cities of the Romans." Vespasian then tells of his great triumphs. A speech of the Emperor, a bit later, illustrates this same matter, as well as the pedestrian style of the whole drama : "Such dreadful bloodshed, — so dangerous a war are things unheard of till now. Never has Rome been in such trouble and peril before ! But the great hardships which Vespasian inflicts upon Rome are quite equalled by his cruel devastation of the surrounding cities. It is piteous, piteous ! Four battles have we fought against him and lost. . . . My heart is so oppressed that I know not what to do, for my forces are daily reduced, and those of the enemy are on the increase." I should think nothing of this much of an amplification of the Shakespearean drama were it not that I believe the actors may have been influenced in their reconstruction by Shakespeare's original version of .the piece. Shakespeare is most careful in working up the banishment of Lucius, and his departure to raise an army among the Goths, — he shows Lucius returning with his army, he has Aemilius warn the Emperor to prepare to meet him, — and then it all comes to nothing f For some one else has substituted the most revolting scene of the play, that in which Titus makes the queen eat the pasty in which he has cooked her sons, — a feature wholly unlike Shakespeare both in idea and execution. The ending of the play, beginning where Marcus and Lucius address the people of Rome, has the tone and manner of others of AUTHORSHIP OF "tITUS ANDRONICUS" GRAY I23 Shakespeare's plays in which the avenging army has been triumphant. It is interesting to note in this connection, that the chmax of the drama comes, as always with Shakespeare, in the middle of the third act. It is here that the calamities which befall Titus are completed, — that his measure of grief is full; and at this very moment Lucius goes to raise his avenging army. Shakespeare's genius from the first instinctively wrought in this way.^^ If we can free Shakespeare from the reproach of having written this scene, and that other, contributory to it, in which Titus cuts the throats of Tamora's sons while Lavinia holds the basin in her handless stumps to catch the blood, a good share of our repugnance to the play would vanish. But let me not be of those who, having formed a theory, bend all the evidence to sustain it. There are objections to regarding this portion of the play as an insertion. Seemingly Shakespearian por- tions of the play account for the presence of Tamora and her sons at the house of Titus, and for the bringing there also of Lucius under the semblance of peace and friendship; and if I suggest that the army of Lucius might have broken in upon the scene, and Titus as well as Tamora and her sons might have perished in the struggle, I must frankly admit that I have not proven all this. The evidence for it is simply that Shake- speare seems to have prepared the army of Lucius for some such denouement ; that the ofifensive element of the human pasty could have been added as an additional horror, and suggests Greene or Peele rather than Shakespeare ; and that the actual handling of this particular feature of the banquet is casual and haphazard, and is inconsistent with the fundamental scheme of the drama as a whole. The second scene of the fourth act first shows Aaron as a broadly humorous character, and this is a scene which is peculiarly unUke Shake- speare from first to last. It contains a considerable number of those once-used words upon the evidence of which Shakespeare's authorship of the play has been disputed, and it contains none of the characteristi- cally Shakespearian passages which other critics have adduced to show that the play is "surely his." It is the scene in which Aaron receives "* It does not follow that Shakespeare was the author of that Titus and Vespacia which was "new" according to Henslowe in 1591, though this is an attractive possibility. The Titus and Vespacia was, however, performed by Lord Strange's men ; so those who dispute Shakespeare's authorship of Titus Andronicus on the ground of its being performed by other companies may consider this as an argument in favor of his having written the earlier play. That Titus Andronicus was acted by Pembroke's men is an argument against Shakespeare's having revised the piece, rather than against his original authorship of it. 124 FLUGEL MEMORIAL V^OLUME his illegitimate child from the nurse, whom he promptly kills, and goes to secrete his baby among the Goths. This scene is immediately con- nected with the one before it (IV, i) by the threatening messages sent by Titus to Tamora's sons; and in this scene, in which Lavinia writes her secret with the staff guided by her teeth and stumps, there are again no characteristically Shakespearian passages, while a full fourth of the words noted by Grosart as peculiarly characteristic of Greene and not used elsewhere by Shakespeare occur here. This scene is almost wholly free from double endings, and the physical appeal of the incident itself is in Greene's manner. It is to be noted also that in what seems to have been the original scheme of the play, Lavinia's secret should not be revealed to Titus at this point in the action. It is almost wholly in these two scenes that we have the Latin tags. Everyone must feel with Dr. Grosart that the mawkish exit of Titus, Marcus, and Lavinia, III, i, 254-288, in which Titus carries the head of one of his sons in his remaining hand, Marcus carries the other head, and Lavinia holds the severed hand of Titus in her teeth, is ^'greatly after Greene's fantastic genius." '** It is just such ghastly things as this in Titus Andronicus that have prevented many admirers of Shake- speare from believing that he wrote any portion of the play; but when we notice how easily such a bit could have been written in, and how unlike the finer portions of the play this is, we are warranted, I think, in regarding this passage as another probable insertion. The last scene of the second act, since I am proceeding backward, is one which has been challenged by Mr. Authur Symons.^" It is the scene in which Marcus finds the ravished and mutilated Lavinia in the woods, and I wholly agree that Shakespeare did not write it. Its purpose is merely to emphasize the pathetic appeal for the sake of the sensation, and it is just what a less inspired reviser of the play could and would insert. Just objection has been made, also, to Lavinia's unwomanly (and uncharacteristic) insulting of Tamora immediately before her ravish- ment, though Mr. Baildon defends her for it. Mr. Robertson is right, I think, in noting that it is characteristic of the school to which Greene and Peele belonged to justify such suffering as Lavinia's by giving to it the character of retribution f^ and I have no doubt that the revisers of the play added this (to them) essential touch. "Englische Studien, 1896, p. 414- =" Introduction to the Facsimile of the Quarto of 1600. " Op. cit., 217. AUTHORSHIP OF TITUS ANDRONICUS — GRAY I25 This same principle of dramatic art (which Shakespeare was always too true a dramatist to observe) accounts, I believe, for the last passage I shall mention as probably the work of the revisers. The central portion of the first act, from line 275 to line 390, is much inferior to the rest, is crowded with many of the evidences of the un-Shakespearian character of the play, and contains none of the characteristic passages. It is here that we are shown Titus killing his youngest son, Mutius, and at first refusing him burial. We are wholly out of sympathy with Titus in all this ; the only excuse for it is to make his sufferings more deserved. With this goes the weak and ineffectual bit ("brainless," Mr. Symons calls it), in which Bassianus seizes Lavinia, which provoked the quarrel. This was no doubt merely narrated in Shakespeare's original version, as is the fact of the killing of Mutius, in lines 417, 418. And this leads me finally to a brief consideration of the nature of these possible insertions when taken all together, and of the play as it would appear with these omitted. If I am reasonably near the truth in my conjectures, we should be able to identify the methods and the aims of the revisers in endeavoring to make Shakespeare's play more accept- able to their employers and their public. The passages I have indicated show (i) a desire to make the tragedy more expHcit ; (2) a tendency to dwell on the pathetic ; (3) an attempt to add to the variety of the action, and consequently (4) a humorous treatment of the villain; (5) a delib- erate justification of the sufferings of the good characters; and (6) the working-out of suggestions already in the play. The last point is particularly noticeable. Given a finished drama to revise, one is thrown back upon the play itself for his material. Aaron's bastard child would naturally suggest a possible scene in which he should receive it of the nurse ; Titus's banquet to Tamora and her sons, upon which the army of Lucius was to come, would suggest to a man like Greene the transferring of the sons from the position of guests to that of menu; this would involve Titus's knowledge of their crime, which we therefore find revealed in Greene's characteristic manner ; and it is so, throughout. The play of Titus Andronicus without these accretions would still be a tragedy-of-blood, and by no means a pleasant piece to read ; but it would certainly not be unworthy of Shakespeare in his earliest period. It is only when we judge it in the light of his greatest tragedies, as Mr. Barrett Wendell says,^^ that we feel it to be so unworthy of Shake- speare. It is infinitely finer than any tragedy of Greene or Peele. William Shakespeare, 67. 126 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME In this attempt to separate the later additions from the play as Shakespeare originally wrote it (if my theory is right), I have confined myself to the larger and more striking instances, and indeed I have not been able to satisfy myself at every point. I am disconcerted especially when the double endings are numerous in a passage which on other accounts seems to belong to the revisers ; but it is to be remembered that these men were peculiarly prone to imitation, and in revising a play they would be especially inclined to write their portions as nearly as possible in the style of the rest. Kyd in translating the Cornelia and Marlowe in translating Lucan are at once attracted by the French and Latin verse to an employment of the double ending far in excess of their usual custom ; and Greene and Peele, who were, I believe, the revisers of Titus, were much more impressionable and susceptible to influence than were Kyd and Marlowe. What has added most to the difficulty of my task is the facility and ready imitativeness of these men (if I am right in supposing that they did it), and also the thoroughness with which the task was done; Titus Andronicus as it now stands was no hasty patchwork of a journeyman playwright, but a most careful reconstruc- tion by men of considerable genius. In substituting a scene of their own for one of Shakespeare's, they would naturally incorporate any lines or passages in the rejected scene which appealed to them, and which they could make convenient use of ; nor would they hesitate to rewrite any of the other scenes, for of course they thought their own ability vastly superior to that of this unknown young man, and we who think dififerently must pay the penalty. There can be, then, but little value in pointing to a word or phrase as one used frequently by Greene or as singing the cadence of Peele ; it is only by the prevailing tone and not by an occasional identity or similarity of expression that we are warranted in judging. "Esthetic" criticism has been scornfully condemned as amounting to no more than individual impression ; but literary criticism is an art as well as a science, and those who cannot see the woods for the trees are apt to be no better off (and no better natured) than their rivals. THE HITTITE TEXT ON THE TARCONDEMUS BOSS George Hempl IT MAY be proper, by way of introduction, to state that it is not my present purpose to edit a number of pictographic Hitti'te texts, or to present anything like a treatise on Hittite pictographic writing. My object is to deal with the Tarcondemus Boss only, this being the gen- erally recognized key to the pictographic texts. But in presenting for interpretation a brief specimen of an unread tongue, one immediately finds himself embarrassed by the necessity of introducing other specimens by way of illustration or corroboration. This renders the presentation of the subject more or less complex and involved, which is to be regretted but can not be avoided. For I deem it necessary to show that the graphic and phonological features involved in my explanation of the Tarcon- demus Boss are general and normal; that is, that they are not peculiar to this document, and therefore possibly adventitious or fortuitous and thus without conclusive force. If the illustrative material thus intro- duced has independent intrinsic value, so much the better; but I do not introduce it here for its own sake. I aim to present nothing about which I feel uncertain. When we consider, however, the pioneer character of the work and the fact that I am not a professional Hellenist, it can not be expected that I have avoided errors, and I shall welcome correction. In justice to myself I may add that up to two months ago, when I got access to the Corpus,^ my work was necessarily based upon the imperfect texts in Wright's and Conder's books. I hope, however, that no traces of this remain. All explanations that I present of Hittite characters or words I alone am responsible for, unless the contrary is expressly stated. Still, it is easy to deceive one's self in such a matter, and one may at any time stumble upon an anticipation of what he supposed had originated with himself. The literature of the subject is extensive and in many cases difficult to get at. A large part of it, including most of the publi- cations of the various oriental societies, is inaccessible to me. In dealins; with the Tarcondemus Boss I have had two aims in view : first, to expose the unsatisfactory character of previous interpretations ; and secondly, to make clear the true nature of the legend. The Tarcondemus Boss 128 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME was the first bit of Hittite that I succeeded in reading. This was at the close of 1912. Later I deciphered other pictographic texts, and then various cuneiform texts. I hope at no distant date to publish further Hittite studies, but I shall have to defer doing so until I have brought out my long delayed reports on Venetic, Etruscan, and Minoan. I. Until comparatively recently, the Hittites were known only as one of the many peoples in or near Palestine. We now know,^ chiefly through Egyptian and Assyrian sources, that the Hittites of the Bible were but the last remnants of a great people who once held sway over Asia Minor, Syria, and northern Mesopotamia. Their original and greatest capital was at Pteria (§8), the present Boghaz Keui, in northern Cappadocia, near Tavium, that is, east of north-central Asia Minor, and they were at the zenith of their power from 2000 to icxx) B. C. This, it will be remembered, was the millennium preceding the coming up of the Hebrews out of Egypt. In 1907 Winckler shov/ed ^ that a new Hittite dynasty arose about 1400 B. C. ; and in 191 3 I observed ^ that this marked the conquest of the Javonian Hittites by Dorians, who assumed the name of the people they had conquered, much as the German conquerors of the Slavic Prussians called themselves Prussians. We, thus, have to distinguish between the earlier Javonian Hittites and the later Doric Hittites. The Javonian Hittites were akin to other Javonians, namely the Minoans, the Athenians, and the lonians ; while the Doric Hittites were distant cousins of the Dorians of Greek history.* In the Bible the Javonians are represented by Javan, grandson of Noah. We must also distinguish between the Hittites proper, whose physiognomy, as well as ' The reader who is not familiar with tlie present status of the Hittite question would do well to read Hogarth's excellent articles (Hittites, Pteria) in the new Encyclopaedia Britannica, volumes 13 and 22. For a more extended treatment, he will find very satisfactory Garstang's The Land of the Hittites, Constable & Co., London, 1910. ^ Mitteilungen der Deutschen Orient-Gesellschaft, 1907, 35/i7- ^ Transactions of the American Philological Association, 44/190. "Hempl, Hittite Greek, The Nation, New York, September 9, 1915. On the publication of this communication I received a letter from Professor Bates of the University of Pennsylvania, in which he wrote : "I have wondered whether you were acquainted with von Luschan's theory of the Hittites. He thinks that anthropology proves that the Hittites and the Dorian Greeks, that is, the black-haired Greeks, are one and the same race ; that, in fact, the black-haired Greek of today is Hittite. If I remember rightly he regards the light-haired Greek (the type of the Hermes of Praxiteles) as Ionian." This is all that has come to me of von Luschan's views on this subject. If his theory is correct, it may furnish an explanation of the term "White Syrians," which Strabo applies to the Cappadocian Hittites. Still, this expression might have arisen in contrasting Hittites generally with non-Hellenic peoples of Syria. However that might be, it would appear that in Pteria and its THE TARCONDEMUS BOSS HEMPL I29 their speech, declares them to be Greeks, and the various subject peoples, ranging from Semites to Mongolians, who helped to make up their armies and are depicted on Egyptian temple walls. I can not here enter into a discussion of the question by what route the Hittites came to Asia Minor. I should say, however, that I see much that favors and nothing that militates against the idea that they came across the Hellespont, as the Phrygians and other Indo-Europeans did. The reader will find of interest in this connection the sixth chapter of Garstang's The Land of the Hittites} 2. The records of the Hittites have come down to us in two forms: the native pictographic writing, found mostly on seals and stone monu- ments ; and the foreign cuneiform writing, in which the state documents etc. of the Doric Hittites were written, on clay tablets. In this paper I shall concern myself with the former only. Preliminary reports on cuneiform Hittite will be found in a paper published in the Transactions of the American Philological Association for 1913, 44/185-214,= and in the communication to The Nation just cited. 3. For many years various scholars have striven, with untiring zeal, to decipher the Hittite pictographic texts; but Messerschmidt, the la- mented editor of the Corpus Inscriptionum Hetticarum,^ writing in 1903, expressed it as his opinion that all had been without avail, and that no Hittite characters had been correctly deciphered except the sign of divinity (§ 36). In this harsh judgment on the devoted labors of my predecessors I am reluctantly compelled to concur.*-^ They overlooked the obvious and fancied the task far more complicated and difficult than it was. For Hittite writing is comparatively simple and offers no insur- mountable difficulty to one who attempts to read it as Greek. neighborhood, that is, in the original Hittite state, the earlier Javonian ultimately prevailed over the intruding Doric, much as the English prevailed over the Norman in England. It is significant that, vi^hile QaxoCOd, the Doric form of Qxiqia (§ 8), prevailed in the east and appears in Egyptian and Semitic speech as Kfatiu (not "K[e]ftiu"), Kf[a]t{a]r, Kp[a]tar, Cp[a]tar, Caphtor; Pitru, Pethor; and Kh[e]ta/Kh[a]ta, Khate, Khatti, Heth, Hitti(m) (Xet, Xexteih) ; nevertheless, a pure Javonian form must have been the basis of nxeoCTi, the spelling employed by Herodotus. ^ -f- bilabial / (written / or p) and ^/j/% are excellent approximate substitutes for a foreign q or cyjr; see § 11. The p of Pitru/Pethor represents the Greek development of q to k, as in kztqoc,. " I shall have frequent occasion to refer to this paper and shall do so with the abbreviation TAPA. * Mitteilungen der Vorderasiatischen Gesellschaft, 1900, 1902, 1906. I shall refer to the Corpus by means of the abbreviation CIH., adding I and II to designate the supplements (I, 1902; II, 1906), and referring to the plates, not the pages. *■* See, however, § 7, 14. 130 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME 4. The Hittite pictographs were, originally, crude pictures of fa- miliar objects. Some of these, in spite of long use, retained a clear like- ness to the object depicted; others gradually lost their identity, being rapidly made with two or three strokes that are a poor reminder of the original outlines. For example — hands arm foot leg face dove chair jars are clear. But one does not at once realize that characters such as are degenerate forms (§ 14) of pictures of an arm, a ram, and a face. In fact, most of the characters are more or less puzzling. The greatest difficulty is met in identifying objects unfamihar to us; for example — R and still others as outlandish looking. Moreover, the student who knows the stones only from the transcriptions of others has the great disad- vantage of not being sure of the exact form of some objects ; for dif- ferent observers copy them so differently that, for example, what in one writer's transcript appears as a wing reappears in that of another as a rabbit's head. Moreover, the same object may be differently depicted, for example, the hand and the jar, as seen above. 5. The pictographs do not face in the direction in which they run, as our letters do, but look back, toward the beginning of the word, as though we were to print — TH3 OAT qgjj Om TH3 W00aSIJ3. They are usually written in a little column, one below the other, begin- ning at the top; as though we were to print the words THIS IS MY BOOK in the following fashion — T 1 a B 1 T H 1 8 M or S M H 1 8 Y >i K Y S Often such a column contains just one word, but by no means uniformly. THE TARCONDEMUS BOSS HEMPL I3I These little columns are arranged in a row and correspond, in a way, to the lines on a page that has been tipped over on its right side. In the first row of such little columns the writing usually begins at the top of the right-hand column, runs to the foot of the column, and continues at the top of the column at the left, etc., etc. In the second row of columns the writing starts at the top of the column that stands just below the last column of the preceding row, that is, at the left, and continues, column after column, to the right, zigzagging back and forth, sometimes irregu- larly. Thus usually in the following order — 20 16 12 9 5 I 21 17 13 10 6 2 22 18 14 II 7 3 19 15 8 4 23 27 31 34 38 41 24 28 32 35 39 42 25 29 33 36 40 43 26 30 37 48 49 50 etc. 44 45 46 47 Compare the inscription on page 145. But in discussing Hittite w^ords and inscriptions it is found easier to arrange the pictographs as we do our letters, that is, to have them run uniformly from left to right, in lines ; and I shall follow this practice. 6. In citing a Greek word, I aim to employ the form familiar to us in extant Greek texts, usually the Attic ; but with two exceptions. When it is necessary to indicate the Doric character of a word or to call attention to the fact that the earlier form differed from the familiar form, I do so. Compare JieSia (§ 42/2, 5, 5.1) for the later mt,a; toag (§59) for the familiar tetQag, In archaic forms (like :ie8ia) and in all Doric forms (like nz't,a) I refrain from placing accent marks, except in those cases where the accent can be given with confidence and there is some phonological reason for indicating its divergence from Attic accent. Compare § 8.'' In phonetic transcriptions I follow the practice of modern phonetists in placing the sign of stress (^) before the stressed syllable. See §61. In transcribing cuneiform I use k for h with subscript curl, and k for k with subscript dot. 'For Doric accent, see Thumb, Handbuch der griechischen Dialckte, 78 etc. 132 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME 7. To Sayce's ^ identification of the sign of divinity, more correctly of supremacy (§3, 36), should be added the identification of the sign D€ by Peiser,^ and of or \ by Thompson.^'' In explaining the use of these characters I am forced to present my interpretation and translation of the accompanying pictographs and thus to anticipate to some extent what I shall deal with more fully farther on, § 34 etc. (i) The sign 0(S or HL is used (in some texts much more freely than in others) to indicate the beginning of a word. For example, the hand or arm X^I'iq], when used to spell the monosyllable qe (the later Greek te, Latin que 'and,' § 35) is often separated from the adjoin- ing words by this sign of division, thus — This is especially true if the following word also begins with a velar or labial consonant. The sign of division thus prevents the arm from being taken as one of several spellings of a following q (§11), or for a part of a polysyllabic word, as in arm — ternion, xeL^p] — TQidg = QetQiag (§ 7/2). Even under these conditions, repetition and separation rendered the sign unnecessary, as in § 35. 11 " (2) The bar U , often stunted to , may precede a name or title, as in cuneiform writing; thus in the first and second lines of the inscription on the Marash Lion ^^ we find — W'f^ \lv CD C=:£3 = o TQaqov , dxQO qexQC Traqon , the great king,' § 8 etc., 34 etc., 44, 45. * Transactions of the Society of Biblical Archaeology, 1882, 7/255. I shall have frequent occasion to refer to the Transactions and Proceedings of the Society of Biblical Archaeology and shall do so with the abbreviations TSBA. and PSBA. * Die Hettitischen Inschriften, 1892. "/i New Decipherment of the Hittite Inscriptions, Archaeologia, 1913, 64/19 etc. " CIH. I. 21. THE TARCONDEMUS BOSS — IlEMPL 133 Or it may be attached obliquely to one of the characters spelling the word; see the form of this same king's name as it appears in §41. The oblique bar usually appears attached to a vertical element of the pictograph, thus — , — 1 /\ 12 foot — loop, Ji88[ia] — TQo[jir|], = qETeo(g) 'king/ and — arm — ternion, Xs[iq] — XQidq, = QcTQiag 'of Pteria.' For qe- spelled xe-, ite-, etc., see § 11. Both forms of the bar, as well as the mark of division, are well illustrated on the Tell Ahmar Stele."-^ foot — loop — handle foot — ternion jt£8[ia] — tQo[jrr|] — (bg jr86[ia] — XQidg = qexQOC, QsTQiag 'king of Pteria.' 8. This QeTQiag/QaxQiag is the genitive of original Hittite Qtegia (later UxeQia, Ionic nteQiTi), Doric Hittite QaTe(i)d/* that is, Pteria, the name of the Hittite capital, as also of the whole empire (§1). The words qsTQO? QexQiaq 'king of Pteria' (§ 34, 35, 3^) are found one or more times on nearly every stone (§ 40) ; and there are many ways of spelHng the two words (§9, 10). 9. q8TQo(g) 'king' is by far the most common word in the inscrip- tions. Typical spellings are — leg — loop, Jt85[ia] — TQo[jtri] ==qETQO, CIH. 2/5, leg — loop ^° — handle, mb — xqo — wg = q8TQog, CIH. I. 19/1, hand — foot — loop, x^V^Q]/^^^ — TQO = qeTQO, CIH. I. 10/7, hand — foot — quaternion — loop, X^A^^ — XQa[g]/xQO = qexQO, CIH. I. 10/4, arrow — grubs — %fi[Aov] — T8Q[ii56v8g]/ ^,ing — foot — prow, nxeQ[v^]/mb[ia] — 3rea)i[Qa], CIH. i, ^IH. I. 21/6. " CIH. I. 10/3. ''■^Liverpool Annals, 2, plate 38/3. The figure of the handle (§42/2) is mutilated. ^*TAPA. 44/195. See also the close of foot-note* above. 134 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME the last being fine specimens of Hittite cumulative writing (§ 12). foot/ leg, §42/2; loop, §42/1; handle, §42/2; ass, §64; quaternion, § 59; gruhs, §47; pro'w,% 10, end. For other spellings of qETeo(g), see § 42. For the spelling of q, see § li. 10. The following are typical spellings of QteQia, OaxQiag (§8) — bird — lyre, jitsq [cov] — la[|ip\jxTi] /''•^ feather — lyre, jrT£Q[6v] — la[npuxri] ;"-2 country — ternion, ya — TQidg/^ jar — ternion, xe [90^05] — TQidg/^ wing — ternion, nxiglv'E,] /xQidc,,^^ arrow — ternion, xfi[7.ov] — TQidg/^ arrow — arm — ternion, xf) [kov] /x^[iq] — TQidg,^° jar — penis — ternion, 'Ki[Qa\ioc,]/TiE[og] — TQidg," jar — grubs — ternion, x8[Qa|iog] — xEQ[y\b6ve(;]/xQid';,^^ Compare also — penis — proii', jte[og] — jtQtoi[Qa]/ j cumulative spelling (§ 12) of comb — prow, xx[tig] — JiQa)i[QaJ ) qexQO, arrow — grubs — ternion, xfi[>iOv] — T8Q[Ti66vEg]/T9idg = QexQiaq, that is, qETQog QEXpiag 'king of Pteria,' CIH. 8/2. This use of ;tQa)i[Qa] (alone or with a 6/t word) to spell xqo is a case of inexact spelling (§13), frequent in certain texts, cf. § 9, last example. 11. As will be observed, labiovelars (q, p) could be spelled with one or more velars, with one or more labials, or with a velar and a labial, as well as with a labiovelar, §7.1. On the other hand, a pure velar could be spelled with a labiovelar ( § 48), as well as with a velar. See § 13. The voiceless labiovelar stop (q) occurs in many English words, like quit (=qit) ; and the corresponding voiced labiovelar stop (p) is found in adopted words like Guido (=^9'idd). The labiovelar stops are gen- erally analysed as, and actually vary with the pure velar stops {c, g) followed by the corresponding labiovelar fricatives (^}r, iv, as in what and war) : q/cylr/cw and p/gw. German qu is not the labiovelar stop q, but spells the pure velar stop c + the bilabial ( 0/^ ) or the denti- labial if/v) fricative. 12. Sayce made the important observation that Hittite was prone to the use of variant and cumulative ( § 9, 10) writing ; that is, as seen "•'Perrot and Chipiez (see foot-note"), 2/68. "•' Perrot and Chipiez, 2/71. « CIH. I. 21/5, CIH. 40/12. See also § 35. " CIH. 1/3. "C/H. 22; CIH. I. 19/16. ''CIH. I. 15/2, 21/6. « CIH. II. 49/5. "' CIH. 6/3. "^CIH. 2/1; CIH. I. 21/1, 2, 5 (twice) ; CIH. II. 52/1, 5- THE TARCONDEMUS BOSS — HEMPL I35 above, the same word may be written in various ways, more or less alike or wholly different ; and the same sound or group of sounds may be spelled more than once, that is, by two or more characters representing the same or similar sounds. When transcribing into ordinary Greek letters, it is well to separate cumulative spellings by / rather than — . Thus yiz/mh — xQa/xQO (§9), in which fji/nz spells qe, and TQa/tpo spells TQO. Cumulative spellings of a simple consonant, for example 6/t in Jie6 — tga, do not need to be pointed out in this way. 13. Hittite scribes, Hke Minoan scribes, made no attempt to attain exactness of phonology.-* In fact, this is, for the most part, quite out of the question in iconomatic writing (§ 15). Thus, for example, if English were to be written iconomatically, such a word as big would have to be spelled with the picture of a pig, a pick, or a bird's beak, none of which represents hig exactly. This is a matter that the reader who is accustomed to alphabetic writing only, must fix in mind and not forget. 14. To Sayce and Thompson credit is due for the good service they rendered in identifying various obscure cursive forms with their more pictographic originals, § 4. 15. The chief error under which nearly all Hittite scholars have labored is the assumption that Hittite pictographic writing is largely, if not wholly, ideographic (§ 16), whereas it is chiefly iconomatic (§ 17). Thus Sayce says : — "As a rule it is only the suffixes that are expressed phonetically, the roots or stems of the words being denoted by ideographs. It is but sel- dom that the latter are written phonetically or that the ideographs de- noting them are accompanied by their phonetic equivalents." -^ Exactly the same mistake was made by Evans with reference to Minoan pictographic writing. It is strange that scholars should have been misled in this way. Ideographic writing is the most primitive form of writing. To be sure, it is conceivable that peoples having civilizations as highly developed as the Minoan and Hittite civilizations, might in the matter of writing have made little or no progress beyond the most primitive stage. But the probabilities would all be to the contrary, and the assumption should certainly not have been made without some warrant. 16. In ideographic writing, each pictograph represents and is in- tended to arouse in the mind of the reader the idea of the object depicted. Thus, pictures of a bee, a boy, and a cottage appearing in ideographic For striking illustrations of this, see § 10, § 42/5 and 5.2. The Hittites, 5th ed., 133. 136 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME writing would make it certain that the text had something to say about a bee, a boy, and a cottage. Such a text can be read equally well by people speaking different languages, and the reader may be wholly ignorant of the language of the writer. To me it would seem that the explanation of the fact that scholars have so readily assumed that Hittite and Minoan were written ideographically lies in the temptation to try one's hand at reading the texts without being burdened with the task of identifying the language employed. 17. In iconomatic writing a pictograph is intended to suggest to the mind of the reader only the name of the object depicted. Thus, in an English text written iconomatically, the pictographs of a bee, a boy, and a cottage might spell the English words bee, boy, cottage, but they could just as readily be used to spell the words be and boycot. In order to read a text written iconomatically, one must be acquainted with the particular language in which it is written. It is true that iconomatic writing is an outgrowth of ideographic writing, also that it often retains ideographic elements, much as some lexicographers use small pictures to designate certain categories of words. Still, the difference between ideographic writing and iconomatic writing is world-wide, and the attempt to read an iconomatic text as an ideographic text could result only in confessed defeat (the "blank wall" that Sayce speaks of, see § 26 below) or in the construction of a maze of fanciful inventions. 18. Conder's treatment -*' of Hittite was based on a theory once held by Sayce,-^ Taylor,-^ and Wright,^^ namely, that Cyprian syllabic writ- ing ^° was an outgrowth of Hittite script and, therefore, throws light on the latter. But Cyprian syllabic writing, as I shall show at another time, is a sister of the Minoan syllabic writing out of which the Greek alphabet arose. ^^ There could, therefore, be no direct relationship between Hittite writing and Cyprian writing. This does not, of course, preclude the possibility of remote indirect relationship; for it is not improbable that primitive Minoan pictographic writing was related to primitive Hittite pictographic writing. Both peoples used the arrow, the hand, the prow, and perhaps other signs,^- and that with the same values. But the similarities between the two systems are of a general character and may be wholly accidental. I have not observed that Conder makes any asso- ^ The Hittites and their Language, Edinburgh, 1898. *' TSBA. 5/31, 7/278. " The Empire of the Hittites, 126 etc. ** The Alphabet, 2/123. ''Thumb, Handbuch der griechischen Dialekte, vii and 285 etc. ^"^ For the present, see Evans, Scripta Minoa, 1/68 etc. ^ Evans, Scripta Minoa, 1/242-3. THE TARCONDliMUS BOSS HEM PL 137 ciation of Hittite and Cyprian signs for which there is justification, with the one exception of the arroiv xfjAov (ce/ca), § 10. Where Cyprian signs fail him, he freely draws upon linear Babylonian. But whether connecting Hittite characters with Cyprian or Babylonian, Conder is guided wholly by similarity of form, and in many cases it takes the eye of faith to discover the similarity. He thus believes he has found in Hittite a Mongolian tongue. The best test of the value of his method is the careful reading of a portion of his exposition. It may safely be asserted that there probably is no one now who has faith in Conder 's work. The Tarcondemus Boss showing the reverse of the original. (W. Wright, The Empire of the Hittitcs, 156, 2d ed. 165.) 19. The three scholars who are regarded as having made the most serious attempts to read Hittite are Professor Sayce ^* of Oxford, Pro- fessor Jensen ^^ of Marburg, and R. Campbell Thompson." It has long been recognized that the key to Hittite speech should lie in the successful interpretation of the bilingual text on the Tarcondemus Boss ; and this belief has never been abandoned except as a result of one's failure to decipher the text. I shall, therefore, present in this paper the interpre- tations that these three scholars have offered of the legend on the Boss, from which one may judge their methods and results. 20. In criticizing the work of Professor Sayce, as I often have to do, I find myself in a very embarrassing situation. What he has done " Sayce's work appeared in many papers published chiefly in the Transactions and Proceedings of the Society of Biblical Archaeology, especially in the volumes for 1903, 1905, 1907; also in his little book The Hittites, chapter VII. '^ Hittiter und Armenier, 1898. 138 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME for philological science is almost incalculable. Wherever one goes, even into remote corners of linguistic knowledge, one finds that this inde- fatigable worker was there before him. And nothing that Sayce touches is left quite as dark as he found it. But one can not shut his eyes to the defects of his method, or fail to recognize the fact that they are not insignificant. He has a fertile imagination, without which no one can make any progress whatever in the decipherment of texts like the Hittite. Still, he does not always subject his ideas to rigid scientific tests, but permits himself to regard as proved what he has only guessed or as- sumed, and to pass on from one unproved theory to another. While Hittite scholars will always be under deep obligations to Professor Sayce for all that he has done for Hittite studies in general, it is only just to say that very little indeed of what he has attempted in the way of decipher- ing and interpreting the Hittite texts has permanent value. 21. Sayce says ^"^ : — "The story of the boss is a strange one. It was purchased many years ago at Smyrna by M. Alexander Jovanoff, a well-known numis- matist of Constantinople, who showed it to the Oriental scholar Dr. A. D. Mordtmann. Dr. Mordtmann made a copy of it, and found it to be a round silver plate, probably the pommel of a dirk, round the rim of which ran a cuneiform text. Within, occupying a central field, was the figure of a warrior in a new and unknown style of art. He stood erect, holding a spear in the right hand, and pressing the left against his breast.^®- ^ He was clothed in a tunic, over which a fringed cloak was thrown ; a close-fitting cap was on the head and boots with upturned ends on the feet, the upper part of the legs being bare, while a dirk was fastened in the belt. On either side of the figure was a series of 'symbols,' the series on each side being the same, except that on the right side the upper 'symbols' were smaller and the lower 'symbols' larger than the corresponding ones on the left side. 22. "In an article published some years later on the cuneiform in- scriptions of Van, Dr. Mordtmann referred to the boss, and it was his description of the figure in the centre of it which arrested my attention. I saw at once that the figure must be in the style of art I had just deter- mined to be Hittite, and I guessed that the 'symbols' which accompanied it would turn out to be Hittite hieroglyphs. . . . 23. "The reading of the cuneiform legend has been the subject of much discussion, for the most part needless. It gives us the name of the king whose figure is engraved within it, and the first portion of it reads: 'Tarqu-dimme king of the land.' The second portion is of more doubtful interpretation, and the actual meaning of it could not have been '' The Hittites, 5th ed., 136 etc. ^'■' This is true of the original, not of the reproduction ; but Sayce's "right" and "left" immediately below refer to the reproduction. THE TARCONDEMUS BOSS HEMPL 139 arrived at with certainty before the decipherment of the Hittite texts.. The last word me-e or me is, in fact, a transhteration of the Hittite mc 'I (am),' and the preceding character is not phonetic but the ideograph of 'city.' The whole legend is, consequently, 'Tarqu-dimme king of the land of the city (am) I.' ^^ 24. "The name Tarqu-dimme is evidently the same as that of the Cilician prince Tarkondemos or Tarkondimotos, who lived in the time of our Lord. The name is also met with in other parts of Asia Minor under the forms of Tarkondas and Tarkondimatos ; and we may con- sider it to be of a distinctly Hittite type. The boss probably came from Cilicia. 25. "The twice-repeated Hittite version of the cuneiform legend nat- urally corresponds with the latter.^® But the arrangement of the charac- ters composing it, due more to the necessity of filling up the vacant space on the boss than to the requirements of their natural order, allowed more than one interpretation of them. There were, however, two facts which furnished the key to their true reading. On the one hand, the inscription is divided into two halves by two characters whose form and position in other Hittite texts show them to signify 'king' and 'country' ; on the other hand, the first two characters are made, as it were, to issue from the mouth of the king, and must thus express his name. Hence the first of them, which represents the head of a goat, will have the ideographic value of tarqu,^^ while the second, which has not hitherto been met with elsewhere in the inscriptions, will be dinime. Then follow the ideo- graphs of 'king,' 'country,' and 'city,' the first being a picture of the royal and priestly tiara *^ and the third a representation of a plough, while in the second Mordtmann had already seen a likeness of the peculiar shafts of rock which rise out of the Kappadokian plateau.*^ The last character is phonetic,*^ with the value of me, a short oblique line attached to it further expressing the vowel e of the cuneiform text. 26. "The hope I had cherished that in the bilingual boss of Tarkondemos we had found the key to Hittite decipherment was not realized.*^-^ The key refused to turn in the lock. System after system of decipherment was proposed, which satisfied none but its author, and not always even him. For more than twenty years I had vainly tried every possible or impossible combination ; a blank wall invariably defied my efforts."- I came at last to the conclusion that without a long bilingual inscription the decipherment of the Hittite hieroglyphs was a hopeless task. " For the correct rendering of the cuneiform legend by Hilprecht, see § 57. ** This was a natural but, as it turned out, an erroneous assumption. See § 57. * See §31. " See §33, 54- " They are nothing but the usual triangles representative of mountains or country, §50, 51. *' It is phonetic, as are all the other characters (§15), but its value is (t^o, §59) not me, and the oblique spur designates it as a proper name (§7/2). See § 32. *^-^ See §19. *'-'See§i7. I40 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME 27. "For this the silver boss was itself in part responsible. It mis- led instead of assisting. The analysis of the Hittite legend upon it given above has been made possible only now that the decipherment of the texts has become an accomplished fact. We now know that the last character but one is an ideograph and not phonetic,** and that the first element in the name of the king is used with its ideographic and not its usual phonetic value. This was is; it was only when it denoted a goat that it was pronounced tarqu.^^ . . . 28. 'Tn the early days of my Hittite studies, misled by the copies we then possessed of the Hamath texts, I had confused together the two ideographs of 'king' and 'district.' ^"^ Decipherer after decipherer had followed me in my error, thus missing the sense of the inscriptions and losing the help of the geographical key. As long as the ideograph of 'district' was supposed to mean 'king,' the decipherer did not know where to look for the geographical names. Once the determinative was discovered, however, he knew that he would find them in the words to which it was attached. 29. "The ideograph denoting a 'district' which derived its name from the capital city is not quite the same as the ideograph for 'country' which figures on the silver boss. It represents only one mountain peak, whereas the ideograph for 'country' represents two. But the two ideo- graphs interchange in the inscriptions, their signification being almost the same." 30. I have read these paragraphs over many times, but I must confess that they still are far from clear to me. Even admitting the legitimacy of the symbolic interpretation of ideographs, I do not understand how a plow could serve as an ideograph for 'city' (§ 25) ; and this strange assump- tion is in no way clarified or established by Sayce's explanation that "the plough properly signifies 'the cultivated soil,' but it is also used to denote 'city,' possibly through being confused with another ideograph of simi- lar shape which signifies 'a gate.' " Unfortunately it is characteristic of the method employed by Sayce in his Hittite studies that he does not cite cases where the plow obviously has the value 'city,' — I mean where the fact that it has this value is established independently of his theory that it has this value on the Tarcondemus Boss. It is also in harmony with Sayce's method that he contents himself with an allusion to "an- other ideograph of similar shape which signifies 'a gate.' " One feels that one has a right, if he is to agree with the writer, to see the ideo- graph referred to, and that he should be given the evidence that it means 'a gate.' In a word, I must frankly say that, so far as I have been able to discover, Sayce has done absolutely nothing to make it at all probable that the plow in our text stands for 'city.' **This is an error, see §30. "See § 31. ** See § a. THE TARCONDEMUS BOSS IlEMPL I4I 31. Moreover, one is puzzled to understand how the goat can have "the ideographic value of tarqu" (§ 25,27). Sayce says, "The first element in the name of the king is used with its ideographic and not its usual phonetic value. This was is; it was only when it denoted a goat that it was pronounced tarqu." Now a character may be an ideograph and rep- resent the object depicted; this is its ideographic value. But it may also represent a sound or a group of sounds ; this is its phonetic value. What then can Sayce mean by saying that the phonetic value of the goat was is, but that it was pronounced tarqu when it denoted a goat? Does he perhaps mean that the people of Medan recognized the idea 'goat' in the royal name Tarcondeinos? It is true that in cuneiform writing, in which wholly distinct pictographs, in the course of time, became blended in one and the same cuneiform character, such a character might retain the ideographic value of one of the original pictographs and the phon- etic value of another; but this fact does not justify us in assuming that in a pictographic system like the Hittite, a perfectly clear pictograph like the goat had one ideographic value and an independent phonetic value. How Sayce came to assume that the goat had the phonetic value is or is, is easy to see. He found it in a group of characters that he erroneously assumed spelled Carchemish ; that is all. We shall see (§ 57' 59) that the goat in reality had the phonetic value tra, the begin- ning of xQayoc,, the Greek word for 'goat.' 32. Sayce's rendering of the so-called last character (namely, the quaternion, XQac,, a common spelling of xqa/xqo, § 59) by me was based on circular argument. He believed that the cuneiform inscription ended in me. This he could not explain as Assyrian, but assumed that it was a transcription into the Assyrian text of the phonetic value of what he believed was the corresponding Hittite character. He then concluded that this assumed Hittite me meant T (am),' and that it had been in- corporated into the Assyrian text with the same value. See § 23. 33. Furthermore, in spite of what Sayce says (§28) as to having finally succeeded in disentangling the signs for 'king' and 'district,' it is obvious that he still takes the district sign for a sign of kingship. The A which Sayce, Jensen, and others assume to be a tiara and so a sign of kingship, is no tiara at all,*^ nor does it coincide wath "the royal head-dress of the chief figures at Boghaz Keui," namely M or lA " For a real tiara, observe the //^\ on the Phaestos Disc, Harper's Magazine, January 191 1, 191. 142 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME as Sayce earlier asserted.*^ Instead, it is simply a form of the district sign, § 51/9. See also § 54. It is strange that Sayce should have re- garded the conical hat seen on the chief figures at Boghaz Keui as a "royal head-dress" ; for it is worn only by the gods, while the figure now recognized as the king, wears, like Tarcondemus, a close-fitting cap. To be sure, Sayce calls the king a "eunuch-priest" ; but he certainly could not have taken the gods for kings. At another time I shall show that the aediculum that the king holds aloft is the royal coat of arms. Before continuing (see § 54) the criticism of Sayce's interpretation of the Boss, it seems best to consider at some length the means employed by the Hittites to express the ideas 'king,' 'great king,' 'supreme ruler,' etc. (§ 34-49) and the signs representing 'country,' 'district,' and the like (§ 50-53 )> as also certain other pictographs necessarily involved. 34. I can find no evidence that Hittite writing possessed any sign for kingship. The word for 'king' appears always to have been written out, even when used as a title. The Hittites were fond of referring to their gods and kings in figurative language. One of their chief gods was called Thesippos 'the mare's suckling,' this Thesippos being the full form of Theseus.*^ The name is recorded in cuneiform writing by the neigh- bors of the Hittites in the following approximate forms: Tesubas, Teisbas, Tisehu,^^-^ Tehip, etc.^° This god the Hittites called "the Supreme Ruler," also "the Supreme Support of Pteria" ; and their priest-king they called "the Rock" of the State. "The Supreme Ruler" was spelled^' with (^) ay.gov 'supreme' (§36), followed by a mutilated body ffl axQa)v[ia],^- or by a conical object,^^ apparently representing a mountain peak, d'xQOv, or a fragment of something, dxQO- TO|iog, intended to suggest dxQov 'chief or 'ruler.' Compare the similar combination of mace-top, dxQOv, and the uplifted hand, dxQOxeiQ, § 45- 35. One of the stones at Malatia ^* represents Thesippo(s) standing on a bull, with his triangular bow in his right hand and in his left three " TSBA. 7/300, and Wright, The Hittite Empire, 162, 2d ed. 171. **Gruppe, Griechischc Mythologie, 584 and foot-note I See also §74. *'■' Compare Egyptian Tis[e'\bw. ^ In these cuneiform spellings, -pas/-bas represents Greek -rotog, as -pu/-bu represents -Jt;to(g) (§42), TAPA. 44/188. See footnote*". ^^CIH. 27, B, E, 29/11. "Or dxQCOviov (cf. xonia/xoniov), or some other word related to dxpcoTTiQidta) 'to mutilate,' 'to cut off the extremities.' " CIH. 30, A. "Charles, Hittite Inscriptions, pages 41-42; Garstang, The Land of the Hittites, plate 44. THE TARCONDEMUS BOSS HEMPL 143 thunderbolts. Facing him stands the priest-king, pouring out a hbation to the god. In front of the god is a legend ending in qe 'and,' which is continued in front of the king, thus — ^ A mace-top — bracket d'xQov — EQ\ia country — ternion ya — TQidq arm arm — quaternion — mouth X8[iq] — TQd[g] — cbg = 'AxQOV iQ\ia QatQiag qe qsTQog 'The supreme support of Pteria, and its rock.' For QatQiag/QetQiag, see § 8, 10. For qe, later te 'and,' see § 7/1. In Minoan linear writing, as also in its derivative, archaic Cyprian syllabic writing,^^ this word was spelled with a hand X^V^Q]' whence the usual Cyprian sign for ce/ge. 36. (®) is usually called the sign of divinity and translated 'the god' (§ 3, 7). This, however, is not quite correct. The figure represents the top, or axQOV, of the royal mace T which is seen before some of the figures on the sculptured rocks at Pteria and in other representa- tions of Hittite sovereigns and gods.^*^ Like our "orb," or "mound," it was the symbol of sovereignty or supremacy, and was appUcable to human as well as to divine rulers. In some cases it could well be ren- dered Lord, but it generally is best to translate it by some such adjective as great, supreme, exalted, or to leave it unexpressed. The use of only the top, or axQOV, of the mace was a happy idea, as it suggested the ad- jective d-nQog 'highest.' 'supreme.' See also § 34, 35, 45» 7/2- 37. The bracket might here be regarded almost as an ideograph for 'support' ; whether it brought to the Hittite mind the word sQ\ia, EQEio\ia, or some other word for 'support,' is immaterial, for almost every one of them was also used figuratively for a chief or a god who was regarded as the stay or pillar of the state.— For the country sign, see § 5i/9-— ■^^ Evans, Scripta Minoa, 1/70. ^*Perrot and Chipiez, History of Art in Sardinia, Judaea, Syria, and Asia Minor, II, fig. 278, 280, 281, and plate 8; CIH. 22, 27. 144 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME The arm or hand is made in various positions, often grasping a dagger. See §4 end, 7/1, 35. — The ternion occurs very frequently because used in spelhng QsxQiaq, § 8, 10.— The month here suggests a Greek counter- part to Latin os. The usual Hittite spelling of -oc, is the handle (bg, § 42/2. 38. It is not unlikely that the designation of the king of Pteria as the rock of the state was suggested by the fact that Pteria means 'rocky place,' or 'the rocks,' the place being in reality a remarkable rocky fast- ness. But the designation of a king or other leader as the rock of the state or some other institution is a natural one anywhere; compare Christ's words to Peter: xdyw 6e 001 ^leyo), oti ov el IlexQog, xal em xaiJTT] xfi Ji8TQa oko5o|irioa) \iov xr[V eyMlr\oiav, Matthew, 16/18. Certainly qexQog 'rock' became the regular Hittite word for 'king.' ^^-^ 39. This may well be illustrated by one of the famous monuments at Marash ; for example, the stele " whose inscription begins : — (Ye) QexQO Tgaqov , dxoo qETpog, QexQiaq qexQog, ropyovag qsTQog, Y<^v qexQog, etc. '(I,) King Traqon , the great king, king of Pteria, king of Gorgon, king of the lands (= the world),' etc.' 58 40. The Hittite princes of the east styled themselves "king of Pteria" (§8) as well as king of their local principality. How much reahty this reflects and to what extent it was only a pious phrase, I am unable to say; but one is reminded of the mythical persistence of "the Holy Roman Empire of the German People." 41, A more or less elaborate pictogram representing the cheek, or side of the face, ye[yvq], is often used, alone or with other pictograms, to spell qE-, the first syllable of qexpoC?) and OexQia. At the beginning of an inscription (rarely elsewhere ^^), the pictogram is frequently drawn larger and more elaborately, with one hand touching ^° or pointing ^^ to the face. Such an inscription was sometimes cut on the stele or statue of a king, for example at Marash ^^ ; and in such a case the pictogram "•^ There was no one word for 'king' in the Greek world, cf. Paadeug, ava^, doxavEXTig, agxcov, xvQawoq, etc., a fact that has historical significance. "CIH. II. 52. " Compare the titles of Sargon : "Sargon, the ruler of Bel, the Priest of Asur, the darling of Anu and Bel, the mighty king, king of hosts, king of Assyria, king of the four quarters (of the world)," etc. "C/H. 5/4, 6/2, 11/3, CIH. II. 52/3. '"CIH. 2/1. *'CIH. 3/B, 4/A, B, 6/1, 7/1, 9/1, CIH. I. 19/1, CIH. II. 48/1, 51/1, etc. " CIH. 25. THE TARCONDEMUS BOSS HEMPL H5 Part of copy of the Inscription on the Marash Stele, CIH. II. 52. might appear as a large full figure of a man pointing to his face, as in the case of our Marash stele.®^ The same is true of the parallel inscrip- tion on the Marash Lion."* Such a figure probably also incidentally served as a portrait of the king who put up the stone. It has repeatedly been suggested that our pictogram is an ideogram for *I,' and at first sight there would seem to be some justification for this idea. For example, in the third line of our inscription we find — ^IH. II. 52. ^CIH. I. 21 146 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME That is, the pictogram is followed immediately by the name of the king. Unless we assume that the scribe made a mistake, we must here give the pictogram the meaning 'I'. This does not, however, force us to regard it as an ideogram. Instead, we have Y£[vijg] as the speUing of ye 'I.' This ye/YO 'here,' 'I,' we already know in the particle yz, Sanscrit aha 'to be sure,' and the pronoun e-Ya)(v), Sanscrit ahdm 'I,' from *e-g{h)o-m; compare also the reinforced g-yco-YE."^ That the picto- gram is not an ideogram but an iconomatic element, is shown by the fact that it is so often followed by the quaternion,^^ = xga/xQO (§ 59), and thus furnishes the sole spelling of the first syllable of q8TQo(g) (§42). Elsewhere®^ it is followed by labial or other velar words, and may be interpreted either as ye T or as a part of a cumulative spelling of qe-; see § 11. For previous suggestions as to this pictogram, see Thompson,^" page 11, foot-note. 42. Before an initial consonant, a final -g after a short vowel tended to become silent in Doric Hittite ®^ but remained intact before a vowel or a pause ; hence qetQC and dxQo above. The same phenomenon is ob- servable in Old Latin, Etruscan, and Lycian. The word qETQo(i;) 'king' is here spelled in the following ways : — ( I ) penis — quaternion — loop jie[05] — T9a[g]/TQo[3TT|], with cumulative spelling of the last syllable (§ 12). A similar form of the first character is used in Egyptian. Hittite has two other forms. For the quaternion, see § 59. The character that I have pro- visionally rendered loop appears in various forms, of which are typical. It is often displaced by or paired with j|| yl || etc., which I call the tied loop. There can be no question that the character, no matter in what form it may appear, has the value T90; the only question * Brugmann, Demonstrativpronomina, pages 69 etc. Compare English Here too, meaning 'I too.' -C///. 3/B, 4/A, B, 6, etc. Or by the grubs (§47), CIH. 11/3. "For example, CIH. 2/1, 7/1, 9/1, and our present inscription. •* TAP A. 44/207. THE TARCONDEMUS BOSS — HEM PL 147 is, what does it represent? I believe that its Hittite name was XQOKr\ 'a turn,' whether this is to be interpreted as a loop, that is, a cord turned back on itself (compare ccyhvXt] 'bend,' 'loop'), or as the turning post in the race course (compare xa|iJiT| 'bend,' 'turn,' 'turning post'). (2) foot — loop — tied loop — handle Jie8[ia] — TQo[jtT|]/TQo[jtT|] — 0)5 In Doric Hittite (§ i) the foot is known by the Doric name neSia/jie^a (§6), rather than novg. The handle of a tub or jar, resembling the ear of a man lying on his face, was called o^?, Doric (b?, and was the usual way of spelling the syllable -05.^® Sayce observed that the handle wg (which he regarded as a yoke) stood at the end of words that appeared to be nominatives, and decided that it spelled -s, because he found appar- ent nominatives in -s in the cuneiform texts from Tell el Amarna and in Hittite names recorded by the Egyptians and Assyrians. ( 3 ) penis — loop ^" — handle jte[o5] — TQo[rtf|] — 0)5 (4) penis — stream — loop ^° — handle JIE[05]/:rtTl[YT|] TQO[jtTl] 0)? (5) foot — handle '"' Ji88[ia] — 0)5 This last spelling is less exact (§13) than the others, as it ignores the Q. In the corresponding place in the parallel inscription on the Marash Lion the word is spelled more exactly — (5.1) foot — loop — handle 0188 [la] — T9o[n:r|] — 0)5 compare (3) above. For a different but equally inexact spelling of the word, compare — (5.2) penis — river — handle ni[oq] — qo[t|] — o)5, CIH. 2/1 ; also penis — river, CIH. 2/4. For still other spellings of qETQ05, see § 9, 10 end, 35, 46, 64 end. "See also § Z7 end, 9, etc. " Mutilated on the stone. "Compare leg — handle, CIH. 16 A. 148 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME 44. The name of this king of Gorgon clearly begins with Traqon- (§63, 64), but I have not succeeded in making out the second part of it. From Assyrian sources" we learn of a Traqonlaro(s) (written Tar-ku-la-ra in cuneiform) of the city of Marash (Marqasi), who was king of Gurgum in the time of Sargon and Tiglathpileser III, that is, in the latter half of the eighth century before Christ. 45. The word dxQo(g) is here spelled by means of the figure of a large uplifted hand, axgoyeiQ or d'xQa Xeiq. In the parallel inscription on the Marash Lion,^^ it is so spelled in the second line, but in the first it is twice spelled with the mace-top, dxQOv (§36, see also § 12), and in the sixth line with both signs (compare § 34, end), which makes practically ^^-^ certain the signification of the hand when held aloft. This interchangeableness of the mace-top with the uplifted hand is observ- able elsewhere also, for example in — (m f\"- fk which correspond to the Great Frederick and Frederick the Great. 46. In some of the inscriptions in the neighborhood of Malatia,^® including one of this same king, we find a word 'great' prefixed to the title qeTQO 'king,' which precedes the name of the king ; thus — house — pomegranate — handle cleaver — tied loop, \iiyaQO [v] /q6 [a] — d)g xo [jrig] — xqo [jir|] = |XEYaQog qETgo(5) 'great king.' This \izyaQoc, 'great' (mate of *^8YaXog, \izycLh(\ 'great') has already been identified " as the base of the verb *tA£YaQ-ya)/[A8YaiQ0) 'regard as (too) great,' 'grudge.' "Kjiudtzon, Die zwei Arzawa-Briefe, 22; Winkler, Geschichte Babyloniens und Assyriens, 224, 246. " CIH. I. 21 ; see § 7/2 above. "■^ The character (see § 7/2) here identified with the mace-top differs slightly from the usual form of that character, and in CIH. I. 21/5 it is preceded by the usual form, much as the loop and the tied loop are often combined (§42/1). But Thomp- son (""§37 etc.) quotes our peculiar form, from unpublished inscriptions, in sit- uations that may possibly prove that he is right in regarding it as a distinct character. " CIH. 32/2, 4. " CIH. 16/A. '• CIH. 16A, C, CIH. II. 47- " Brugmann, 2d ed. II. i, page 356. THE TARCONDEMUS BOSS — HEMPL 149 47. The word QetQiag 'of Pteria' is here (§39) spelled — jar — grubs — ternion ■KE[QayiO!;] — TeQ[T]86veg]/TQidg For other spellings, see § 10, 35. 48. roQYOvag (§39) 'of Gorgona,' or 'of Gorgon (Gurgum),'" is spelled shield — shield — ram,''^ or 90W — 90W — ars, that is, with the signs for the words that were later pronounced ^ovdr\ — Poveit] — aQoriv." The shield was also used to spell xv (§ 72). It will be remem- bered (§11) that the labiovelars (q and p) were still intact and could be used to spell pure velars. roQYOva/roQYOVTi, a derivative and variant of roQY^v, is found also as the name of an island off the northwest coast of Italy. As Assyrian cuneiform possessed no ^° and often inter- changed m and n, Assyrian scribes rendered FopYOva or FoQYtiJ'v by Gur- gum. The name, with the same spelling, is found also in other Hittite texts, for example — shield — shield — raryi jar — ternioi. ToQyovaq QsTQia; 'of Gorgona and Pteria' ^^ 49. The word y«v 'of lands,' that is, 'of the world,' «- is spelled ideographically, by two country signs. Traqon , certainly was a great king, for his name is found in inscriptions in many cities, including Malatia, Marash, Carchemish, Aleppo, Hamath, Babylon. 50. It is important that we have clear conceptions as to the signs for country (or land), district, and foreign country. These did not develop exactly alike in all countries, and sometimes one sign was used as the equivalent of another (§ 53) ; but this is no reason why we should not observe such distinctions as are made. The basis of all the signs is a crude picture of an irregular landscape. This appears as three, two, or one mountain, and could be used to represent mouHtain{s), as well as country etc. Such a character might also have intersecting lines, sym- bohc of the division of the land into districts. And such a checkered "Thompson (page 31) got this nearly right. See foot-note" above. "Or do(o)vei65, which, too, originally meant 'male.' " Foreign o's were spelled with m or a in Assyrian. See Delitzsch, Assyrische Grammatik, §31. Compare also Assyrian Tarqu for Hittite Tarqd(n)/Traqdn, §61. " CIH. 42/5. " Compare the Assyrian use of 'king of the four-quarters' in the sense of 'king of the world.' See foot-note 58. ISO FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME mountain or pair of mountains could, in careless writing, open at the top and ultimately appear as a series of horizontal lines intersected by vertical lines, or as a square with a cross in the center. There thus arose the various forms — 1. Three mountains 2. Two mountains 3. One mountain 4. Intersected triangle 5. Intersected quadrilateral AA A A ffi 51. These various forms, or some of them, persisted in each com- munity and got specific values as the general idea 'country' became differentiated into 'land,' 'district,' 'foreign country.' But this differ- entiation was not absolute, nor was it identical in all countries. Compare the three mountains — (i) Sumerian (2) Assyrian (3) Hittite (4) Egyptian And the two mountains — * mountains or country country (yri/Ya) foreign country (5) Minoan (6) Hittite (7) Egyptian country (yea) A A fr\/z\ ^^ country or district district, derived from an earlier /7 Y 1 \ , an opened form of two intersected mountains, like /TvTA . And the single mountain and intersected triangle — (8) Egyptian / \ and ^ ^<^**^ or country THE TARCONDEMUS BOSS — HEMPL 151 (9) Hittite (10) Minoan / \ and ^^ country (yVY". br\\io<;/ba\io<;} I /T\ and /-Fa district {bi\\iog/ba\io(;) / \ district (bfjjAog) / I \ and i 1-1 foreign country (|evt|) It will be observed that the Minoan sign for 'foreign country' arose out of the sign for 'district,' probably because the smallness of Crete brought it about that there was more occasion to write the sign when naming foreign districts, and that it thus became associated with countries other than Crete. This left the two mountains and the single mountain to represent respectively 'country' and 'district.' That the three moun- tains became in Egypt the sign for 'foreign country' was natural, inas- much as Egypt itself was a flat country. 52. [In Minoan writing to spell |e. For example, in- levT], or foreign country, was used I li[vr\] —oxr\[Qiyl] = ^EOTTj 'polished,' on the peculiarly polished cylix from Goulas.^^ The sign _J_ or ^ (later 2 ) i^ '^ ot^IQIyI 'support' or 'column,' and spelled ste or tse, later st/ts/dc/c. The + is the Minoan punct. It stands regularly at the end, like our period, or full stop. Sometimes it stands between each word and then may stand also before the first word. Evans thought it always stood at the beginning, and so turned all the texts wrong end to. The sign |-l— I appears also in the Formello and Caere alphabets (after N, where we later find E) and in actual use in the Etruscan word supelnex 'vessel',** whence Latin supdlex (with regular assimilation of In to //). Neglect of two or all three perpendicular lines led to the familiar forms 4- and — . Hei/HI, from ^e[\nil. — The /\ (^filno;! is the basis of the later A ht'\xa. — For the '^Journal of Hellenic Studies, 14/278. •*Fal)rrtfi. jecus. But it is conceivable that after q had become t/jt/x in Greek generally, a local archaic qo might be spelled y.v (cu), just as at a later time Latin qi was spelled v.v (cv) in TaQxuviog (the Greek rendering of Tarquinius) and TaQxuvia, — but observe also TaQXfi)viov. " Kretschmer, Einleitung, 364. In Egyptian such Hittite names are spelled Trg-, and in Lycian, Trqqii-. Compare also "Phrygio-Thracian" names like ToQxog/ToQxoug, ToQxounaiPris ; Kretschmer, 223, 224, Jensen, 152 ft. Jensen compares Terah, the name of Abraham's father. " Hemp], Early Etruscan Inscriptions, page 11. Matzke Memorial Volume, 117. " Herbig, Indogermanische Forscliimgen, 1909, 26, 11/377, 380. "Early Etruscan Inscriptions, page 15. Matzke Memorial Volume, 121. "The same, page 7. Matzke Memorial Volume, 113. etc. THE TARCONDEMUS BOSS HEMPL I57 62. I do not understand why Tqoxo- by the side of Tuqxo- troubled Kretschmer and led him to assume "* with Imbert, that they were merely variant spellings for a form with syllabic r. Lycian Trqqnta really throws no light on the subject. For there is no evidence that the name was Lycian, and thus no reason to assume that the Lycian form is more original than TaQxc/Tgoxo-. To be sure, it has become customary to father all unexplained names upon a supposititious prehistoric Anatolian race ; but there is reason to believe that scholars will be more cautious in this matter in the future. The change of Qa to ap before a consonant, as seen in TQaxov-/Taoxov-, is the commonest sort of metathesis ; in fact, it is practically the rule in large tracts of the Greek territory.^'' The change of Tpaxov- to Tqoxov- is nothing but an illustration of the regular Greek mutation of a — o to o — o. 63. As we have seen (§44), the name Traqo{n) /Troqo{n) /Tarku frequently appears in Hittite pictographic texts written with a picture of a python, or boa, vJPujr <^Q"'''-wv, generally conventionalized into — iw ijy yy El w Jl/ * Compare the similar serpent on the grave mound pictured on a black- figured lecythos.^°" Sayce recognized the Hittite character as repre- senting "a species of snake." ^"^ In the identification of the pictogram with the 8Qdx(ov, and the recognition of it as the symbol for the god Tarku, I find that I have been anticipated by Hommel (see § 70). It should be observed, however, that this did not lead Hommel to suspect that Hittite was Greek ; on the contrary, he suggested that Greek Sqcixcov was "an old loan-word from the Scythian language = Tarku." It is a pity that he did not draw the obvious conclusion ; for, had he done so, our knowledge of Hittite Greek would doubtless, by this time, be far advanced. It is remarkable also that Hommel's discovery of the Hittite spelling of the name of the god Traqon/Tarku should have been ignored as it has by Hittite scholars. 64. AQcixoov, the Greek name for the python, furnished an excellent spelling for Traqon/Traqon-. On the Babylonian Bowl ^°^ we find — (gg) \SV 'Great Traqon.' More frequently the final syllable is respelled (§12) by an added char- ** Einleitung, 362. " Thumb, Handbuch der griechischen Dialektc, page 130. '"'Whibley, A Companion to Greek Studies, 502. "" TSBA. 5/25. "" CIH. 1/3 158 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME acter. For example, the picture of a boat 'kv[i[^7\] may repeat the -xcov of 6Qdx(ov — Usually, however, the conventionalized figure of the front view of the face and extended ears of an ass ov[o5] repeats the -cov of SQctxcov — ^^^ ^^::^ <5:r> As the ass 0V05 may spell either ov (that is, the nominative -odv) or ovos (that is, the genitive -ovog), it is obvious that the pictograms — might read either 'the Great Traqon' or 'of the Great Tarqon.' But whether the ass is written or not, the genitive -eg may also be specifi- cally spelled by the usual sign for -eg, namely the ear-shaped handle of a tub or jar — L A , w Thus— or ^ A , w? (§42/2). (1) ® \n/<0 'of Great Traqon' ^o« (2) (H) IM ^^^ ^ 'of Great Traqon' (3) Wt/Q) 'of Traqon. ' 108 In (i) the ass is not used; in (2) it is represented by a conventionalized form; in (3) it appears in a naturalistic form. Hitherto the convention- alized form of the ass has not been recognized, it being assumed to be a winged disc or a vase. The parallel use of the unmistakable naturalistic ^•^C/H. II. 50/2, 3- "»C/H. 32/2. "^CIH. 2/2. "'Tell Ahmar, A. 2, Liverpool Annals, 2, plate 38. '°* CIH. i6/c. Jensen and Messerschmidt regard this inscription as a forgery. To me their argument that it begins too much like CIH. 16A, has no force. The fact that it shows a more natural figure of the head of an ass, with ears erect, while, so far as I can learn, no modern scholar had suspected that the corresponding figure in the other inscriptions was an ass, seems to me good evidence of its genuineness. THE TARCONDEMUS BOSS — HEMPL I59 form of the ass makes my identification practically certain. To be sure, in the course of time the identity of the object became obscured ; and so it is not strange that the character at times approached a representation of a winged disc or of a vase. That the pictograms — mw spelled the name of a god was suggested by Sayce and confirmed by Thompson and others ; but they thought it referred to Sandes or Tesup. The ass ovog is used also as a spelling for the case endings -ov/-a)v, side by side with handle (bg = -eg : — hand — foot — loop — handle = qexQO(;, CIH. II. 52/3, penis — loop — handle = qsxQoq, CIH. II. 52/1, penis — foot — loop — ojj = qsTQcav, CIH. II. 52/3; face — foot — loop — handle penis — bull — ass Ye[v\jg]/jiE8[ia] — TQo[jir|] — (bq JiE[og] — Ta{JQ[og] — ov[og] = qeTQog qetQCOv 'king of kings/ CIH. 2/1, nock — foot — loop arrow — loop — ass 7ixiQ(ti[\ia]/nEb[ia] — TQo[jir|] xfj[Xov] — tqo[jit|] — ov[og] = qetQO) qexQCOv 'to the king of kings,' CIH. 2/2. 65. It may be asked, what is traq-on-, and who was Traqon? I have come to the conclusion that traq-on- stands for earlier qtrag-on-. Such a group as qtr/ptr is liable to simplification, becoming tr (§59). If a consonant follows which is cognate or coordinate with one of those in the group, metathesis may early take place, and the simplification then assume the form of dissimilation. Thus qtrag-on-/ (g) traq-on- appears to have suflFered the same sort of metathesis as was suflFered by axejtTO|iai, from ^ojiexTGiiai,"" and the same sort of dissimilation as we observe in Latin s(c)iliqua. For the combination of metathesis and dissimilation in one and the same word, compare cases like *\iiyGyno/niay(ii, *}.iyoy.O(;/ "* Compare Latin specio and Sanscrit sfd^ati by the side of Greek oxe-ta;. "*Fick, Vorgriechische Ortsnamen, 19. There are many such cases in lan- guages other than Greek. I will cite only the very complicated one given by Cleasby and Vigfusson {Icelandic-English Dictionary, 777) : fra ald-odel's tid/ fra arild's tid, in which Id — I suffered metathesis to / — Id {aldodel > alodeld) and then dissimilation to r — ld (alodeld > arodcld), after which d — d also suffered dissimilation and became — d {arodcld > aroeld, arild) . l6o FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME Xiayog, *IlEXayav.6z/Il£)^aay6g.^^^ But qtrag-on- is obviously a derivative of qtrag-os/xgdyog 'goat.' The god TQaqcov or Tarku had, then, a name to be compared with those of Apollo Tragios, Poseidon Taurios, etc. Traqon is a prototype of Dionysus and Pan, and stood in the same rela- tion to Cybele (see § 72) that Dionysus and Pan held to Aphrodite- Artemis. In fact, the goat-god Traqon is nothing but a variant of the bull-god and horse-god Thesippus,^^- the son and lover of Mother Earth; for all are at bottom weather demons, who dwell in the mountains, the desert, and all solitary places. The relation of the weather, and especially of rain, to fertility is obvious. And the association of the goat, the bull, and the ass "'' with reproduction was natural. ^^"^ 66. A Semitic type of Traqon is depicted as the god of fertility or plenty on the famous rock at Ivriz.^^^ On his hat are four pairs of goat's horns, positively confirming our etymology of his name. The goat as a symbol of fertility was associated chiefly with rain and the grape. "^ On the Ivriz stone Traqon is represented as grasping in his right hand a grape vine with dependent clusters, and in his left stalks of grain. This relation of the god of the vine to the goat we find later in the case of Dionysus. ^^® 67. Besides the on/on- stem seen in TQaqcov, Tqoxov-, etc., we find also the regular (/-extension ^^^ of such an on/on- stem, namely Tqo- x6v6ag. This ond/ond- suffix Kretschmer ^^^ speaks of as something un-Greek. 68. I can not see how anyone can fail to recognize the second part of the name TaQxov-Srjjiog, especially when he knows the collateral TaQxov-8i[ioT05, TaQxo-8i[i£VTog, TaQxo-SrmevTog, etc. The form 8i[xoTog for SrmoTog shows the rise of e toward i that we find in Boeotian and Thessalian,^^® where too we find the Hittite ending ond/ond, see above. "^TAPA. 44/188. '"The horse was regarded as a species of ass, and in the Euphrates Valley was called sisu, or mountain ass. "*Gruppe, Griechische Mythologie, 1384-1401. The whole chapter is exceed- ingly instructive in connection with Traqon. "" CIH. 34, CIH. II 34. A very good reproduction will be found on plate 57 of Garstang's The Land of the Hittites. "' Gruppe, Griechische Mythologie, 822 etc. "' Especially Boeotia, Euboea, Thessaly : Brugmann, II, i, § 3640?. '^^ Einleitung, 311, 363, etc. '" Buck, Greek Dialects, § 16 and a. For other connections between Boeotia and the Javonian Hittites, see Gruppe, Griechische Mythologie, 1724, Boeotia. "• TAP A. 44/187. THE TARCONDEMUS BOSS — HEMPL l6l The same change is seen in M etan/ Mitaan/ Mitani ^^^ ; probably also in Assyrian Tarqudime. The nominative 6ri|iOTog is to original *brmoTT| as the genitive brniOTOv is to the original *8TmoTTig. That is, bi\\ioxoq represents a complete shift to the inflection of o-stems, just as brmotov does ; while the usual nominative 6T]|i6TTig represents only an approxima- tion to the second declension. Compare jt^o(pTixog, § y2. TuQxov-brmoTog/ TaQxov-8i|iOTog is clearly reflected in such forms as — TaQXG — briiiEVTog TaQxo — 8i^EVTog TaQxo — 8inavTog ^^^ all with metathesis of v from the dental 6 to the dental t, and with dissimilation of o — o to £ — o or a — o; also in TaQxovSofioxog, with assimilation of o — r\ — o — o to o — o — o — o, which, however, may Be orthographic only. Names in -6fi!.iog are extremely rare in compari- son with those in -6ri|iOTog/-5i[xoTog, and there can be no doubt that TQaqov-8T]|xog/TQoxov-8Tmog (implied in Sfj^og Tqoxov6t]vwv, Kretschmer, page 363) had originally exactly the same meaning as TaQxo-SrmoTog/ TaQxo-8i[iOTog, that is, 'native of TaQxov-6fi|iog.' This is made perfectly clear by the 8fi|iog TQOxov6r|vcov above, which is obviously for 6fi|.iog TQoxov8ri[.i(jov 'the district of the Tpoxovfifjuoi, or inhabitants of Tqoxov- Sfjfiog.' Compare such combinations as "die Flur und Stadt der Freuden- stddter," die Zignaiter Aue," "the village of Carter sz'ille," "London town," etc. 69. That the language revealed by the Hittite characters on the Tarcondemos Boss is Greek can not be called in question. But there is nothing in the characters or their use that could betray dialect. The district sign may stand for Doric ha\ioc, as well as for Javonian 8f)|iog; and so our text may be either Doric Hittite or the earlier Javonian Hittite (§1). It will, however, be observed that Tarqudime, the Assyr- ian form of the name, reflects Javonian TpaqovSrinog and not Doric Toaqov8ano(g). Still, the name on our Boss might be T()aqov8a^iog and the Assyrian form be based, not upon this particular king's name, but upon an earlier Javonian form of the same name.^-^-^ All this has not necessarily anything to do with the still unidentified language of the long letter from Tusratta, king of Medan, to Amenaphis HI. of Egypt. "' Knudtzon, Die zxvei Arzaiva Brief c, 19. "*•* Compare English Brunszvick, which is not from Hijrh-Gernian Braun- schiveig, but from the earlier Low-German form. l62 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME The language of this principaUty varied from age to age and was not always the same as that of its rulers.^" 70. When this paper had long been finished I came upon Hommel's letters to Rylands,^-^ and found that he had anticipated me in the identi- fication of the name of Traqon/Tarku (§63). His letters also present two Hittite texts that bear so directly upon matters treated in this paper that I can not leave them unnoticed. April 29, 1899, Hommel wrote as follows. "In a prehistoric tomb at Kedabeg, N. of Goektchai-lake, Mr. Belck found a truncheon (or baton) of command, with the following signs on top: — WIA comp. Verhandlungen der Berliner Anthropol. Gesellsch., 1893, page 63. Now it seems to me certain that we here have a Hittite proper name — Tarku-dara-s (=god Tarku is king). Nobody has hitherto seen that these signs are Hittite, but there can be no doubt of the fact. Comp. seal, Schlumberger 6 Wjl/f and 17 \M ." See CIH. i/i. 71. It will be observed that Hommel follows Sayce in taking the district sign for a sign of kingship (see § 33). What we really have is— U/[U// python hgdwov /IK district 6T][>iO(;/8a|xog handle oi5g/cbg = TQaqov6Ti[Aog/TQaqov8a[iog That is, simply another spelling of the name on our Boss. The handle here furnishes a cumulative spelUng (§12) of the final syllable -og, already spelled by the district br\[io^/ba[iO!;. Lake Goektchai is in Ar- menia, northeast of Medan, the capital of the kingdom of Tarcondemus (§57)- "'Meyer, Geschichte dcs Altertums, 2d ed. I. 2, pages 592, 580; also TAP A. 44/188. THE TARCONDEMUS BOSS — HEMPL 163 72. April 10, 1899, Hommel wrote concerning Dr. Hayes Ward's cylinder seal, as I have stated above. ^-' From casts furnished by Dr. Ward, Mr. Rylands made a drawing, which I here venture to reproduce. We find three lines of Hittite text and a priest standing between two sym- bolic effigies. One of these has a stag's head and antlers and a body consisting of the coils of a serpent, with the tail and legs of a bird. These representatives of life on the earth, in the earth, and above the earth, ^-* are clear attributes of Gea, or Mother Earth, otherwise known as Ma, Demeter, Rhea, Cybele, etc. The other effigy consists of a stand- ard supporting horns enclosing the orb of the moon, that is, the attri- butes of the moon goddess, with whom Cybele was often identified. The first line of Hittite text contains the name of 'Great Traqon' (§64), the second that of 'Great Cybele,' in the genitive case, each name being preceded by the sign of supremacy (§36). We have found the shield used to spell yo (§48), here it spells v-v. The second character is, as Hommel points out, evidently a dove. That is, neXeidg. This with the preceding xv gives us KvPeX^ig or Kv^eXag 'of Cybele.' The third line is — prow, 7tQ(bi[Qa] \ Penis, jtEfogl ( handle, o^?/d)g ) We have already seen (§68) that masculine nouns in -t], instead of adding -q as in classical Greek, may take -og, the full ending of the second declension, just as Attic Greek took -ov in the genitive. This jteoqpT^Tog would thus be a regular Hittite form of ;tQoq>r|Tric: 'one who ^PSBA. 1899, 21/224 etc. "* Compare the beasts, birds, and fish on the Boeotian vase, Homes, Urf;e- schichte der bildcnden Kunst, 160, and Lichtenberg, Die Agdische Kultur, 105. ** Miscopied as a cleaver (§46) in some reproductions. 164 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME speaks for (a god),' 'representative,' or 'interpreter.' The inscription would then read — Tgaqcov KvPeXT]g jtQoqpriTog 'Traqon, the interpreter of Cybele.' That is, the priest identifies himself with the male element of the andro- gynaic divinity.^^^ It is possible, however, though I think less likely, that we should read — TQaqovog KdPe?i.ti5 7tQO(py\xoq 'The interpreter of Traqon [and] Cybele,' taking the ass as spelling -ovog, as on the Bulgar Maden Stone (CIH. 32/2, see §64), where the intervening conjunction qe 'and' (§7/1) is written out, being spelled by an arroiu xf][?iov], as in — dxQov Tpaqovog qe qeTQo qetQcov '[son] of Great Traqon and king of kings,' CIH. 52/2. If this ;n:QO(pTiTog is Doric (but Jts6ia was not necessarily restricted to Doric), it can not be the same word as JtoocpriTTig/jiQGCpaTTig (from cpVmL 'speak,' ^/hha), but a parallel formation (from qpaivco 'reveal,' 'expound,' interpret,' yjhhe, jtQoq)aiva) 'reveal,' foretell') meaning 'inter- preter,' 'oracle,' 'prophet.' This spelling of the name of Cybele occurs frequently on the stones from Carchemish. 73. It is obvious that the discovery that the Hittites, as well as the Minoans, were Greeks, will have a profound influence upon our concep- tions of the early history of Greece and the Near East, as well as of the early civilization of Europe, and of the history of religions. It Introduces an element that is wholly new and unexpected, and at the same time it makes clear and congruous numerous elements that were known but not understood before ; for example, the transmission of the civilization of the Euphrates valley through the lands of the Hittites to the Greeks of the west.^^^ In the matter of the history of religion, I may call attention to one important phenomenon. Thesippus/Theseus (§34), the Hittite bull-god, the god of the mountains, of thunder and lightning, and of war, reappears in Crete differentiated into a monster with the body of a man and the head of a bull, and the demigod Theseus who slew him; while in Attica a more rational differentiation trans- 'Gruppe, 1572, 9; 1331, 2; 1546, 2. ' Hogarth, Ionia and the East, 1909. TIIF, TARCONDEMUS BOSS — HEMPL 165 formed the bull-^od into the fire-breathinp hull of Marathon, and The- seus, llie ^reat national hero of Athens, who captured him and sacri- ficed him to Apollo. This same Hittite bull-god, the great god of the mountains, the god of thunder, lightning, and storm,'^* the god of war, whom the Hebrews learned to know when they absorbed the Hittites of Syria, reai)pcars as the golden calf and the god who was worshipped in the similitude of an ox, — the god of the hills, who treadeth upon the high places of the earth, who roars from Zion, who hath his way in the whirlwind, and the storm and the clouds are the dust of his feet, his fury is poured out like fire, and the rocks are broken asunder by him, the god of hosts, the god of the armies of Israel.^" The gradual slough- ing of the grosser elements of the cult is reflected in the story of the conflict between Moses and his followers and Aaron and his party, who clung to the worship of the god in the tangible form of a molten image ; and in the account of Hezekiah's destruction of the images and of the brazen serpent, whose adoration Moses himself was said to have en- couraged. ""This Hittite wcather-god was akin to the Syrian-Assyrian Hadad/Adad and the Damascan-Babylonian Rimmon/Rammon. '*Ward, American Journal of Semitic Languages and Literature, April 1909. A NEW EMOTIONAL EFFECT IN TRAGEDY Frank E. Hill I ARISTOTLE, to whom run many roads in the realm of art-philosophy, tells us that the emotional effect of the tragic drama is found in the L excitation of pity and fear, and in a purgation, or katharsis, of these feelings thru their very awakening and exercise/ It is interesting to ap- ply this Greek judgment concerning drama to the theaters of modern times. There is no doubt but that the spectator's feeling in regard to trag- edy varied greatly during the twenty-two hundred years from Euripides to Schiller. Yet thru all the changes which nationality and environment have wrought, we find that Aristotle's phraseology persists in a curious fashion. In sixteenth, in seventeenth, in eighteenth century drama, the attitude of the audience has varied greatly, but, oddly enough, not to the extent of arousing and purging other emotions than pity and fear. Changing in its quality, the katharsis has been constant in name. New types of emotion such as the moral sentiment appealed to in much of Elizabethan and eighteenth century tragedy have fitted under Aristotle's phraseology as new cases fit under the simple wording of an old law in which an unsuspected elasticity is constantly being revealed.- The question I propose takes us beyond pity and fear. It asks whether we do not find in nineteenth and twentieth century drama an emotional effect which the magic phraseology of our Athenian critic will not cover, — an effect new with nineteenth century life and the nineteenth century theater. I am aware that many consider tragedy a stranger to the modern drama. Our contemporaneous stage does not give us plays possessing "truth of argument, dignity of persons, gravity and height of elocution. ' Butcher's translation of Aristotle's Theory of Poetry and Fine Arts, p. 23. Macmillan, London, 1907. * Possibly we might find in Seneca and in such Elizabethan plays as Webster's White Devil a new emotional element in the form of horror. The close kinship of horror to fear, however, makes distinction somewhat difficult, and of dubious importance. NEW EMOTIONAL EFFECT IN TRAGEDY — HILL I67 fullness and frequency of sentence." ^ Indeed, in the face of the shop- girl and butcher-boy heroes of such genuine artists as Hauptmann, Brieux, and Galsworthy, we wonder what Jonson and Webster, with their rif^hteous scorn for the tragedy which their contemporaries asked for, would find to say concerning Justice, Damai^ed Goods, or Rosa Bernd, as candidates for the buskined stage. Nevertheless, confronted as we are with the dearth of the old, acknowledged tragedy, we arc con- strained either to consider modern drama as tragic material, or to say that tragedy, save as a ghost, walks abroad no more. Many have chosen the former course. And in its justification it must be said that the serious plays of our own time have in one sense a fundamental identity with acknowledged tragedy. They are to be distinguished from comedy not only by their tone — a sometimes uncertain criterion — and not only by the catastrophe which marks their ending, but by the machinery thru which this catastrophe is brot about. They meet the description which Mr. VV. L. Courtney has given of exhibiting "a clash of two powers- necessity without, freedom within ; outside, a great, rigid, arbitrary law of fate ; inside, the moderated individual will, which can win its spiritual triumphs even when all its material surroundings and environment have crumbled into hopeless ruin." ■* In other words, they, together with the Greek or Shakespearean tragedies, ofTer us a hero, a power hostile to him, and the struggle rising from the clash between the two. In Sophocles' Edipus the King we gain a sense of an unequal conflict between a potent human soul and a pitiless supernatural anger. In Macbeth we are aware of a similar mortal spirit pitted against self and circumstances. In Hauptmann's The Weavers, in Mr. Gals- worthy's Strife, we find the same appalling conflict, — man on one side, a Force beyond him on the other. The identity is not destroyed by the fact that in the latter plays the destructive agency seems to reside in the organization of human society rather than in the malevolence of an Olympus.' Considering our modern drama as tragedy, then, on account of its structure, and of its position as the most vital form of serious dramatic art of our day, I wish to ask whether there has not come with it an emo- tional effect different from that which past tragic spectacles have offered. Are pity and fear the only emotions aroused and purged in the spectator 'Sec Jonson's preface to Sejanus. Webster's preface to the White Pn-il is interesting in giving a similar Elizabethan ideal for tragedy. * The Idea of Tragedy, by W. L. Courtney, p. 12. Rrentano's, New York. 1900. •For an explanation of the nature of the tragic Force in each of the types represented here, the reader is referred to the second division of this study. l68 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME of twentieth century tragedy? Owing to lack of space, and to the fact tliat a few well-known examples will be readily admitted as typical, I shall consider five plays only from the multitude presented by the theater of today. These five are Ibsen's Ghosts, Hauptmann's The Weavers, Brieux's La Petite Amie, Galsworthy's Justice, and Giacosa's The Stronger. Do these and the type for which they stand present an emo- tional eflfect new in tragedy ? II Let us begin our inquiry with a consideration of that toward which all tragedy works, and which in established tragedy marks the height of our pity and fear, — the catastrophe. What has caused this catastrophe in the older types of tragedy, and what causes it in the most modern type? Undoubtedly the element which in both kinds of drama may be held accountable for the hero's fall is the Tragic Antagonist, or the Force which works against the leading character in the play. Some critics have characterized this Force as Fate in Greek tragedy, and in the Elizabethan tragedy have considered it to be a defect in the protagonist's will, or a marshalling of hostile wills of other characters against the hero. Opposed to this definite-minded group of critics (or shall we call them hasty-minded?) is another group with a tendency to deny the simple quality in the Antagonist of both Attic and early modern drama. These writers find the hero's fall to be due to mingled causes,— not only to the power of the gods, but to environment and the character of the hero ; not only to a defect in will or the opposing wills of others, but to circum- stances and the mystery of Fate as well. Even these non-absolutists, how- ever, tacitly admit the dominant place which so-called Fate occupies in the Hellenic, and so-called Will occupies in the Elizabethan or classical French drama.® Their quarrel is more with the obscuration of other forces than with an acknowledgment of preeminence in the case of one. Indeed, the testimony of tragedy itself forces the admission of a characterizing element in the Force. The Greek hero testifies continually, almost dis- mally, to the destructive proclivities of his gods. "O ruthless Fate! To what a height thy fury hath soared," "All that I can touch Is falling — falling — round me, and o'erhead Intolerable destiny descends," "Ah Zeus, why this stern hate against thy son?" •For an example of what is meant, compare pp. 29-31 and p. 40 in Mr. Lewis Campbell's Tragic Drama in Aeschylus, etc. NEW EMOTIONAL EFFECT IN TRAGEDY — HILL 169 are typical of the stress laid upon divine anger by the Attic protagonist.^ In Elizabethan tragedy we find the nature of the Antagonist varied, but thru the variation emphasis on human character and will stands out strongly. Marlowe's Dr. Faustus and Edward II illustrate the type in which the real source of trouble is an inherent weakness in the hero, while Macbeth is an example of a play with a more complicated cause for disaster. Nevertheless, it would not be unfair to quote of the entire seventeenth century stage what Mr. Bradley has said of Shakespeare: "The dictum that, with Shakespeare, 'Character is destiny,' is no doubt an exaggeration, and one that may mislead (for many of his tragic personages, if they had not met with peculiar circumstances, would have escaped a tragic end, and might even have lived fairly untroubled lives) ; but it is the exaggeration of a vital truth."* Nor would it be unfair to refer the reader to Milton's Samson Agonistes, where the careful way in which the poet offers God a buckler by thrusting responsibility on the hero is an extreme yet fundamentally characteristic example of the seven- teenth century attitude, especially in England. Says Samson from his pain : Appoint not heavenly disposition, father. Nothing of all these evils hath befallen me But justly; I myself have brought them on; Sole author I, sole cause. If aught seem vile, As vile hath been my folly, who profaned The mystery of God, given me under pledge Of vow, and have betrayed it to a woman, A Canaanite, my faithless enemy." * Surely there is a gulf between this tragic fault, mounting to the sole cause for disaster, and the Greek Hubris. Without discussing further a problem whose solution to date has always depended much upon the attitude of the solver, I wish to suggest an analysis of the Antagonist, the destructive Force, in Attic and Eliza- bethan tragedy. May we not say that, granting the presence of other elements, the main factor in the Greek ruining power is Fate or the power of the gods? And may we not assume that in most of Elizabethan tragedy human personality, or Will, holds a parallel position? If we may assume this, we may analyze our respective Antagonists as follows : *See King Oedipus, Lewis Campbell's translation, i, 1309-10; Antigone, Lewis Campbell's translation, i, 1340-1342; and The ^fadness of Heracles in Euripides in English Verse, by A. S. Way, p. 398. 'Shakespearean Tragedy, by A. C. Bradley, p. 13- Macmillan, London, 1912. * Poetical Works of John Milton. U, 602. Macmillan, London, 1890. 170 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME Greek = Fate + Personality + Circumstances. Elizabethan = Personality + Circumstances + Fate.^° This representation is crude. It assumes the presence of two distinct types, whereas what we have is a tendency toward types, as well as instances of reversion from the later to the earlier. But this much is true : around either one of these two kinds of Antagonist the destructive power of all influential tragedy down to 1840 revolves ; separate plays may show individual traits, but the source of ruin which they present may be classed under one of the two analyses given above. If the reader will accept this as true, bearing in mind that I do not wish to make his acceptance a van- tage point for deductions other than those concerning general emotional effect, we may turn to modem tragedy. What factors make the destructive power in such dramas as Ghosts, The Weavers, and Justice f Are the same elements present in it as in the Antagonist of the older types? Unquestionably the identical ele- ments are in evidence. We might say, for instance, that the father of Andre Logerais, hero of La Petite Amie, with his violent objection to his son's desired marriage with a shop-girl, is personally responsible for Andre's and Marguerite's suicide. We might say that Csesare Nalli in Giacosa's The Stronger is accountable for his own misery and for that of his son Silvio; has he not been guilty of unscrupulous business methods, and has he not carefully hidden his practices from his son? And we might suggest that the catastrophe in Justice is due to the linsey- woolsey quality of Falder's character. In Ghosts and in The Weavers we might play with the idea of Fate, shifting Olympus to Norway or Silesia. But tho we may find personality a factor, and may seem to find Fate a factor, in the modern tragic Antagonist, I would question whether, as we examine the works of Brieux, of Giacosa, of Galsworthy, of Ibsen and Hauptmann, we can sincerely claim either personaUty or Fate to be the chief element in the destructive agency of our modern plays. If we look carefully at La Petite Amie we are impressed with the almost sym- boUcal nature of Logerais pere. He is the French father oppressing his son, and his power to oppress finds its source in the laws of France and the typical attitude of the French parent toward the French child. Logerais is in this sense Andre's environment. If he is a symbol for a thousand others, like them the result, the utilizer of conditions, is it possible for us to exalt the personal, present and strong as it is, above the social element? Logerais the type merges his individuality into "Fate, of course, must be separated from Fate-in-Circumstances. The latter element is considered as identical with "Circumstances." NEW EMOTIONAL EFFECT IN TRAGEDY — HILL I7I what he represents, — environment. The power to dominate the early life of his child, to choose his school, later his profession, later his wife, later still, because of the French law, to ruin his chance of earning a livelihood, — all this is given to Logerais by social conditions, and the gift emphasizes these conditions and detracts from the importance of personality. No less do circumstances play a part in The Stronger and Justice. Csesare is not a villain, lying in wait to bludgeon his son with the iniquitous character of his money. His intentions were of the best. He wished all along for nothing more than Silvio's happiness. Neither was he conscious, as he amassed his fortune, of any guilt in the methods he used. He "played the game" as he found it. H his success means the ruin and — thru the nervous shock— the death of his enemy Lamais, he cannot be held responsible. Not to win was to have been beaten. In order to win he must stifle niceties of conscience. He thus appears as the result of the modern financial system. On the other hand Falder, weak and pitiful, presents the result of attitudes and systems as well as the result of a weak personality. Indeed, the very feebleness of the hero gives tone and vitality to the fatal net around him, — the meshes of distrust, coldness, rigidity in the economic world, and the impersonal, maddeningly monotonous character of the prison world— thru which he breaks into death. Even more decisively do conditions of society color the Antagonist in Ghosts and The Weavers. If we remember Fate as it exists in Attic and Elizabethan tragedy, we shall see the inherent difference between it and the environment appearing in our two modern tragedies. To the Greeks, to Shakespeare, Fate meant mystery. It was unknown, super-human ; beyond the earth, tho affecting it. It is this mysterious, intangible quality in the old Destiny to which Mr. O. E. Lessing refers when he says of Hebbel that he was the first to go into the dialectics of the Idea; Hebbel, and Ibsen after him, explained, made reasonable for the first time, the tragic Force. Instead of unknown gods, they gave social organization and social habits, things of common contact and apprehension." Conditions, then, if they be "Fate," are no more iden- tical in quality with the Greek Fate than the God of modern Christianity is with an Egyptian cat. Both the former destroy, both the latter were worshiped; yet to find identity between the two members of either ^^rilparzcr and the Modern Drama, by O. E. Lessing, p. 3- Of course the Elizabethan Force, in so far as it was personal, was understandable. Certain other elements, such as the hints of a super-human power in Macbeth partly reveal, are not understandable. See A. C. Bradley, Shakespearean Tragedy, 26-39. 172 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME group would be pertinaciously absurd. In the case of Ghosts Brandes has stated clearly the nature of the Antagonist. He said of the play in 1881 : "Even Mrs. Alving, who has been so sorely wronged by circum- stances, believes that under other conditions she might be happy. . . . And Ibsen is evidently of her opinion. . . . Life itself is not an evil. Existence itself is not joyless. No, some one is to blame, or rather, many are to blame, when a life is lost to the joy of Ufe; and Norwegian society, depressing, coarse in its pleasure, enslaved to conventional ideals of duty, is pointed out as the culprit." ^^ Brandes' judgment can hardly be called too strong. Search as we will, we can find no genuine tragic fault in Mrs. Alving. Search as we will, we can find nothing attributable to personal hostility or to malevo- lent deity, unless we wish to put social vices outside the power and responsibility of mankind. Conditions, environment, — not Fate, are domi- nant in Ghosts. In The Weavers we discover the same essential situation. Fate is the price of fustian, the attitude of society at large toward the workers. Dreissiger, the pitiful capitalist, Hauptmann has clearly made a mere instrument of conditions. His plea that higher wages would mean his own ruin is much the truth; he does not establish the market price, as do his present American business cousins. And in Circumstances as the Antagonist there is nothing mysterious, nothing Olympian. Their inexor- ability, their terrible dignity, are resident in the system under which men live. They are tangible, Fate intangible ; they find an identity with Fate only in their capacity to inflict suflfering. I propose, then, that for the type of modern drama which we have been examining, an Antagonist should be acknowledged whose leading feature is Circumstances, — the formula might read Circumstances -f" Personality. The reader can see the contrast between this Force and the older types : Greek = Fate -j- Personality -\- Circumstances Elizabethan = Personality -\- Circumstances -|- Fate Modern = Circumstances + Personality "Ibsen, Bjornson: Critical Studies, by George Brandes, p. 52. William Heine- mann, London, 1899. NEW EMOTIONAL EFFECT IN TRAGEDY — HILL I73 III Let us now return to the question of emotional effect. The leading element in the modern Antagonist, we have seen, is Circumstances, or Social Environment. This, in such dramas as Ghosts, causes the catas- trophe. And Social Environment, no less than the Forces of past tragedy, arouses the traditional feelings of pity and fear. The spectator knows these emotions naturally and logically as he watches the tragic struggle of any modern hero or heroine, be it Mrs. Alving in Ghosts or Laura Murdock in our own Mr. Walter's The Easiest Way. But one interesting thing must be noted concerning the modern source of ruin. It is alterable. The audience cannot live to see Mrs. Alving's environment changed, for the heroine of Ghosts is past help, but it can live to see old conditions made new and different for her future sisters. This possibility of change was not present in the old Forces to any degree. In the Greek Antagonist it can hardly be said to have existed. The Gods never changed, and the Gods, as we have seen, domi- nate the tragic situation in the Attic theater. In the Ajax of Soph- ocles we might say that a warning against pride is given, and hence the spectator may feel the possibility of changing himself, and of seeing humanity changed. But Ajax is the exception in Greek tragedy, and the moral lesson it bears hardly vital. The Greek katharsis was not a stimulant to better behavior, but a mere purgation. Usually the hero's fault was decorative rather than essential, — the moral was, to be rever- ential of the Gods, but it was hardly believed that tragedy would change human nature. Circumstances, of course, were not considered as alter- able. In its own eyes, the Greek state was not open to constant change. There was an alterability in the Antagonist of Elizabethan tragedy, but, as I have stated, not such a capacity for change as we find in the modern Force. Such possibility of remedy as existed lay in the specta- tor's personal feeling. The beholder of the play in many instances saw the fall of an obviously bad or weak character, and he might take to heart the lesson he had witnessed. Indeed, it is on record that he did this, if we may believe Hamlet. The prince says (Act ii, sc. ii, lines 625 ff.) : "I have heard That guilty creatures sitting at a play Have by the very cunning of the scene Been struck so to the soul that presently They have proclaim'd their malefactions, For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ." 174 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME In the case of Lille's George Barnwell — Elizabethan in its funda- mental structure, record says that spectators took the lesson offered, and changed their evil ways.^^ It will be seen, however, that the changeability in the modern and the Elizabethan Forces is vastly different in quality and degree. One can change himself if he is able — we are not too sure of our power, — but he faces a vague and delicate problem when it comes to changing the personal character of his neighbor. Indeed, he is usually unaware of iniquities in himself, and has his neighbor's hidden from him. On the other hand, he can see social ills with more distinctness, and the remedy is fairly definite, — perhaps education, perhaps legislation. In the modern Antagonist, alterability is a direct matter. The spectator goes to change what he has seen, and knows that, granting sufficient social cooperation, it can be changed. In the Elizabethan Antagonist, alterability was not a direct matter. First the spectator must see that he could apply the lesson to himself. Next he must realize that he needed to have it applied. In the third place, he must be able to apply it effectively. In the fourth place, he must know that all his neighbors would follow his example. May we not say that the alterability of the Elizabethan Force was a nebulous affair compared to that of the modern? May we not call it "alterable in a sense only"? If so, we might view our three Antag- onists once more, and in reference to alterability, as follows: Greek = Fate (unalterable) + Personality (practically negUgible) -f- Circumstances (unalterable). Elizabethan = PersonaUty (alterable in a sense only) + Circumstances (unalterable^*) + Fate (unalterable). Modern = Circumstances (alterable) + Personality (alterable in a sense). Now if the spectator of modern tragedy views a catastrophe the source of which is visibly the result of social environment, hence visibly alterable, will he not have a two-fold consciousness? Will he not in the first place feel a personal concern, almost a personal responsibility, for " Introduction, p. xiv, by A. W. Ward to The London Merchant and Fatal Curiosity by George Lillo. D. C. Heath, Boston, 1906. " Such "circumstances" as appear in Elizabethan tragedy are mostly those of accident, of happening, etc. — such as Desdemona's pleading for Cassio and loss of the handkerchief, or Duncan's visit to Macbeth's castle. Social circumstances were never seriously shown as conditions to be changed — unless the substitution of one king for another were held up as a remedy for them. Then, of course, personality, not circumstances, was the real source of trouble. NEW EMOTIONAL EFFECT IN TRAGEDY — HILL I75 the distressing situation which he witnesses? Could the beholder of Ghosts, for example, escape an awareness of his own presence in, his own contribution to a society where licentiousness was causing insanity? Perhaps he might escape it, but only by denying to himself the truth of the picture presented. If he grants its fidelity, he must feel some degree of responsibility for the disaster he has witnessed. If he is normal he will feel uneasy, will think vaguely of the possibility of mending matters; if he is a man of keen conscience he may feel a deep shame and a defi- nite desire to right the unfortunate conditions he has seen at work. Of course the intensity of the spectator's urge to action will vary with the play he views. And of course with any desire to change goes a hope that change will be effected. The spectator thus feels pity, fear, and shame — shame that he lives in a world which permits the horror he sees — and with the shame, some- thing of hope, — not for the present hero, but for any person who in the future might be placed in the hero's situation. The shame and the hope are social ; they arise from the portrayal of society's influence on the in- dividual ; they contemplate a refining of this influence. This emotional effect, of course, could not have come before the nineteenth century. It is a reflection of a nineteenth and twentieth century type of life and thot, — it suggests that our tragedy may be more individual than we had imagined.'* "But," the objector will say, "you are putting upon the helpless spectator a load he need not bear. Why must he feel more than pity and fear? Are you not giving him a psychological sense more appropriate to a doctor of philosophy than to a mere citizen?" I answer. No. Admittedly the modern spectator is not conscious of his consciousness, but he is conscious. Neither the Greeks nor the Eliza- bethans analyzed the pity and fear they felt ; no more do our modern audiences. They do not analyze, but they do feel. We are justified in saying that they do for two reasons. In the first place, logic assures us of their feeling. We have seen that social circumstances are the destroying power in the type of modern tragedy which we are discussing. This being so, the question arises : " I am indebted to Professor R. M. Alden for a suggestion as to the attitude we should have toward the class of drama under discussion. Unquestionably in former times there was a parallel to the social aspect of modern tragedy in comedy, where the follies of society may be said to have been exhibited. It is a question whether the sensations of shame and hope may not represent a transference of an effect from comedy to tragedy; may not, indeed, represent a sort of breaking down of the barriers between the two forms. 1^6 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME Can the half dozen leading dramatists of the age, can their numerous imitators, do so poorly what we know they have done, that the audiences which view their plays may go on forever viewing, yet forever failing to comprehend them? Can these artists charge their pieces with the dynamite of a new idea, and leave the public deaf to the ensuing explo- sion ? Inconceivable indeed ! Where Ibsen and Hauptmann depict soci- ety as a destroying force, the spectator will see it as a destroying force. And if he sees it as such, will he remain insensate as to his power to mend, as a part of society, what society has done wickedly or mistakenly? It is hardly believable that he should fail to realize his position, if only dimly. He will see what society is doing; in some degree he will feel himself a part of society, in some degree he will realize the possibility of altering it. Of this much logic assures us. But history repeats this assurance. Some evidence we have of the actual emotional effect of various modern dramas, and such testimony as exists is clearly to the fact that the audience that watches plays such as Ghosts and The Weavers not only should feel shame and hope, but actually does. Let us notice this evidence. It comes to us mostly not as direct testimony, but in the form of manifestations — in word or deed — on the part of the spectators of our modern tragedy. Naturally, then, it requires interpretation. For instance, we have the reviews of Ghosts written by Mr. Clement Scott of the Daily Telegraph and Mr. A. Watson of the Standard on the occasion of the first presentation of Ghosts to a London audience. In the eyes of these critics — and the fact that Ghosts is now forbidden the English stage is indicative that they roughly repre- sent the attitude of a large body of Englishmen— in the eyes of these critics Ibsen's drama was something distinctly dangerous. Mr. Wat- son proposed its suppression. Both critics seemed fearful of its effect on the English public. The British government apparently shared this view.^® How shall we interpret such a manifestation? We might say that it was a manifestation of British decency, of fear for the molestation thereof. And in a degree we might be correct in so saying. Yet common sense assures us that English modesty cannot be held wholly accountable. For our Britisher has a regard for a truth once he believes in it. And if Ghosts were simply too direct, but nevertheless true, we can hardly conceive of its receiving the abuse which was its ^"For an interesting if prejudiced account of the reception given Ibsen's tragedy, see Mr. G. B. Shaw's The Quintessence of Ibsenism, 3 flf. Brentano's, New York, 1905. NEW ExMOTlONAL EFFECT IN TRAGEDY — IIILL 177 lot March 14, 1891. And the critics themselves by objecting to the facts which the play presents, show ns the real situation. ^^ Ghosts, to critics and government, was a false picture of society. As a false picture of society, the play was considered dangerous. Just what the dangers which it held were supposed to be, we may not know. But it is very reasonable to conclude that when the picture Ibsen painted was rejected, something was felt in the nature of a fear that many beholders of the play might accept the picture, realize society as the culprit, and create dissatisfaction with the world as it existed. In other words, it is roughly implied in the hostile reception to Ghosts that if the spectator accepts the situation presented by the play, he will feel uneasiness, shame, and with these feelings some sort of a desire to change matters. A tacit implication that the audience will see the tragic Antagonist in social circumstances, and will be moved, perhaps to action, at least to dissatisfaction, seems to front us in the case of The Weavers as well as in that of Ghosts. For the German government prohibited the production of Hauptmann's drama, with its picture of oppressive econ- omic conditions. In conjunction with the government prohibition we have much critical opinion suggestive of the emotional effect of the play. Albert Soergal says, "Not only the German people but the whole civilized world has cause not to let this portrayal be forgotten, in order to prevent the return to such shameful conditions." '* "He paints the picture," says James Huneker of Hauptmann, "the audience draws the indictment." ^® In a similar way Galsworthy's plays seem to affect the audience. The hostile Mr. Howe says of them: "Our tragic emotion in the face of Mr. Galsworthy's drama would be expressed in such words as: 'Yes, I suppose that's quite true. What are they going to do about it?' We may go so far as to wonder quite actively what ought to be done." " We know that in at least one case, that of Justice, a change in laws has followed the Englishman's portrayal of tragedy-making conditions. The identical quality of making the audience see the source of woe, and feel its ability to alter this source, seems present in the works of M. Brieux. Mr. Clayton Hamilton suggests the effect I speak of when he says of M. Brieux's The Red i?ofc^— "Not only is it enthrallingly dramatic, but also its attack on the iniquity of the French judicial sys- tem is immediately pertinent to the iniquity of our own politics." And ^id, 6. ^^Dichtcr und Dichtnng dcr Zeit, by Albert Soergcl. '' Iconoclasts, by James Huneker, p. 8. Chas. Scribner's Sons, New York, 1908. *> Fortnightly Review, C, 739. 178 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME shortly after making this statement he indicates the attitude of the American audience toward the modern serious drama in general in the statement: "Damaged Goods made money, because the people wanted to listen to a lecture on syphilis ; Maternity will not make money because people do not want to listen to a lecture on motherhood." ^^ I could go on to cite evidence of public feeling in parallel cases of less important dramas. American society, for instance, has manifested a sort of shame, a sort of will to action, in the face of such plays as Kindling, Fine Feathers, Bought and Paid For, etc. True enough it is that the manifestation is definitely seen only in comment, but it is sufficient for us to see the psychological reaction, for it is with this, and not with actual social changes, that we are concerned. I think that the reader will supplement from his own reading and experience the evidence I have given concerning the attitude of the audience toward our modern tragedy. To give further instances would be to do what is unnecessary because so easy, — to swell the quantity without changing the quality of the proof. Aristotle gave the emotional effect of the tragedy he knew in the following sentence: "Tragedy ... is an imitation of an action that is serious, complete, and of a certain magnitude ; ... in the form of action, not of narrative; through pity and fear affecting the proper purgation of these emotions." -- As I have pointed out, tho the emotional effect has been altered, until the nineteenth century the phrasing of the ancient critic has covered the various changes which have taken place. It does not seem, however, to cover many examples of modern drama ; in our twentieth century tragedy the spectator feels more than pity and fear. Let us say, then, that for such dramas as we have examined in this study, the phrasing definitory of emotional effect should read "thru pity, fear, and shame effecting the proper purgation of these emotions, and with shame arousing a will toward changing certain conditions of human life, and a hope that such change as is desired may take place." This re-definition will cover elements in the emotional effect of our modern tragedy which the long-used definition of Aristotle does not include. " The Bookman, XL, 639-640. =° Aristotle's Theory of Poetry and the Fine Arts, p. 23. S. H. Butcher's trans- lation. Macmillan, London, 1907. THE MAIN SOURCE OF SPEECH-SOUNDS AND THE MAIN CHANNELS OF THEIR SPREAD Hermann Hilmer THIS ARTICLE IS the outgrowth of ideas first advanced in a book on "Schallnachahmung, Wortschopfung und iiedeutungswandel" which I pubUshed some time ago/ Some of the arguments and illustrations in that book are repeated here, as far as seemed necessary for the present purpose. That this article was written is in no small measure due to Professor Fliigel, who, from motives of friendship as well as of scholarship, discussed with me the different phases of my book and thus stimulated me to further develop and formulate my theories. The thoughts that thus took shape under the spell of his personality may perhaps not be unw^orthy as homage to his memory. Language is a means of communicating concepts through speech- sounds. A speech-sound associated with a concept in the minds of the people speaking a common language is called a word. The relationship among words is due to the association of concepts with each other. The speech-sounds, being merely symbols, cannot affect the association of concepts, although they may and do help us in tracing them. The ques- tion, tlierefore, whether there are universal and definite trends in lan- guage growth, resolves itself into an inquiry whether there are universal and definite trends in the associations of concepts. Associations of speech-sounds and concepts with each other may be due either to "original" (primary) association, in which case the speech- sound stands for no other concept at the time this association is made; or to "transference," in which case the speech-sound is bound up with another concept at the time the new association comes about. Associations by transference take place through the medium of a sentence. The term 'sentence' as used here signifies not merely the syntactical structure so called, but any expression in language which conveys a complete thought. It may consist of a single word, its mean- ing being fixed more definitely by the circumstances under which the word is uttered. By means of the sentence it is possible to define or limit the Werlag von Max Nicmeyer, Halle a/S, 1914. l8o FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME meaning of a word in such a way that its concept changes. For instance the verb "to grasp" meant originally no doubt "to take hold of some physical object." By using the word in the sentence "he grasps the prob- lem," it takes on an entirely different signification, namely, "to under- stand." If this new meaning becomes established in the minds of the people of a community, independent of a sentence, then the process of associating the speech-sound with this new concept is completed. Along with the new association, older meanings of the word may continue to exist. Most words as one finds them listed in the dictionary stand for quite a number of different concepts. The fundamental forms of language are the noun (together with the adjective) and the verb, in accordance with the physical universe as reflected in the human mind. All other word forms are either derived from these or (if in some cases one may speak of other words as due to original associations of speech-sound and concept) they are negligible as far as this investigation is concerned. This article, then, has to do merely with nouns and verbs, and to some extent, in a supplementary way, also with adjectives. An analysis of any language will show that there are two funda- mentally different means by which speech-sounds may be transferred. It is of the utmost importance that they be clearly understood and dis- tinguished. In fact, one of the main reasons why the science of semasi- ology has not yielded any really tangible results thus far, is the failure to make this distinction. In the first place, the speech-sound may travel from concept to con- cept without change of form (excepting gradual phonetic changes) or of grammatical function : that is, a noun remains a noun, a verb a verb, and an adjective an adjective. The direction of this kind of transference, which will be called 'direct transference,' is from a less complex to a more complex concept and from a concrete to an abstract one.^ The important point to be noted is, that the speech-sound moves only in one direction and cannot go back over the same route. Thus one may call a human being on account of his clumsiness "a lump," which means originally a shapeless mass ; but one cannot reverse this process and call a shapeless mass "a man," because a man, even a clumsy one, has char- acteristics that do not pertain to a shapeless mass. Similarly, one may refer to an inexperienced person as "green," because green generally is ^As concrete concepts are considered all concepts which are based directly on sense impressions. However, the matter is more complicated than can be stated here. ORIGIN OF SPEECH-SOUNDS — HILMER ISI the color of unripe veg-etation ; but it would not occur to anybody to speak of a green color as "inexperienced." Second, the speech-sound may be transferred by "composition." This term, as used here, implies not only the putting together of speech- sounds and the corresponding merging of their concepts, but it stands likewise for cases in which the speech-sound changes its grammatical function, even if its outward form remains the same ; for instance, when in English the word "house," meaning a dwelling, is used to point out the action of putting someone or something into a house, as in "to house the people who have lost their homes." To class such a case as composition may be justified, on the ground that in changing the gram- matical function of the word, as determined by its position in the sen- tence, some formal element is added to it which was not there before. Through composition a speech-sound may travel in almost any direction (excepting in a few special cases which will not be considered here), for the possibilities in this respect are as great as is the power of the human mind to associate the most different concepts with each other. If the speech-symbols traveled only by direct transference, or if this development proceeded separately from composition, it would be an easy matter to trace the channels through which language develops. In reality, however, these two kinds of transference are inextricably interwoven. A speech-sound may travel for a certain distance through direct transfer- ence, in other words in a definite direction away from its starting point ; then by composition it may change its course entirely and possibly get back again to the point from where it started. As a word in itself bears no evidence of the concepts its speech-sound may have been associated with before it reached the place where it is encountered at a given time, it is in most cases impossible (excepting for w^hat light one may be able to get by comparing words of similar phonetic structure) to trace its course. The foregoing considerations make it plain that our search for uni- versal and definite trends in language growth is doomed to failure from the outset, if we start from complex concepts. The fact that such con- cepts are sometimes named by original association does not alter this, for under but slightly different circumstances the concept in question might have received its speech-sound by one of the possible associations through transference which its complexity would invite. As the conditions under which such a complex concept may be conceived are too numerous and unstable to admit of analysis, its association with this or that speech- sound in preference to others may be regarded as accidental. For in- stance, the English dialect word "knock" meaning a clock, may be as- l82 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME Slimed to have originated through the imitation of the sound of a clock. But the clock, for all we know, might just as well have been called a "watch," a "dial," a "time-piece," a "chronometer," or even a "timer," an "hour-teller," a "day-divider" or by some other name not yet found in the dictionary; just as the Germans call the same thing "uhr" and the French "horologe," from the Latin "hora" and "horologium." The ideal starting point for our investigation would be a concept of such a nature that any person, in any place, at any time, under any cir- cumstances could not name it otherwise than by original association. If there existed such concepts, they must be based upon sense impressions pure and simple , obtained in such a way that they precluded any analysis, so that the mental activity of all persons undergoing them, from the most inexperienced child to the wisest man, would be at zero. Such absolutely ideal starting points are of course impossible, for there is nothing in nature within human ken which might not under cer- tain conditions be analyzed by someone. Nevertheless there are some concepts which approach this ideal very closely. For this investigation only those of them are important that are obtained through the sense of sight ; all others are neghgible. Sound impressions, although of relatively slight importance as bases for concepts, have however, great significance as models for speech-sounds. This will be considered fur- ther on. The concepts in question are of two kinds : First, the three most general concepts of outhne (or of things, inasmuch as the outline estab- lishes the material existence of a thing), namely, of a mass, — that is of a physical unit without definite shape; of a projection, that is, the outline of a mass which rises above a background ; and of a depres- sion, that is, the outline of the imprint of a mass into a background. Second, the simplest concepts of action ; namely, of short, relatively quick motions of things in one direction, — as a blow or a fall. All these concepts, it will be noted, are very vague. They must be so of necessity, as the impressions on which they are based must be fleet- ing and without interest to the person experiencing them ; for as soon as a thing or an action arouses the interest of the observer, he will anal- yze it, and the chances that the resulting concept will be named by origi- nal association becomes less in the measure that he does so. This con- sideration leads to the question, why concepts depending upon such fleet- ing and uninteresting impressions should be associated at all with speech- sounds ; for nobody, it would seem, will give a name to something in which he is not interested. The answer is that such associations suggest ORIC;iN OF SPEECH-SOUNDS — IlILMER 183 themselves without any mental effort, inasmuch as the phenomena which induce the concepts in question are bound up with sound, — namely, the sound of a body striking another. The imitations of such sounds become the symbols for the concepts so induced. Thus arise three kinds of words : namely, first, namtfs for the sound itself, as "dump, the sound of a heavy body falling, a thud" ; second, names for short, quick motions, as "dump, to strike with a dull, abrupt thud"; third, names for a mass (or a mass forming a projection), as "dump (chiefly U. S.), a pile or heap of refuse or other matter 'dumped' or thrown down" ; or a depression, as "pit, an indentation like that made by a raindrop in the sand." (Cf. "pit, the sound of something small striking, as a raindrop.") Phenomena which may give rise to these three kinds of words are quite frequent. They must have been among the very first which human beings perceived and named, and they are still the most common occurrences. A few examples may be pointed out : A piece breaks off from a rock or a tree, falls to the ground with a thud, and comes to rest as a mass or a projection, or it causes a depres- sion in the ground. A raindrop falls and imprints its shape on the sand, or the foot of a human being or of an animal makes a track. A human being throws a stone, or he hits something with an implement and knocks off a piece, or he cuts a chip out of something, thus causing a depression. Such examples may easily be multiplied. Needless to say, other concepts than the ones mentioned may likewise be associated with the sound of a blow and named after an imitation of that sound ; for instance, the con- cepts of many implements. But as such concepts are of a complex nature, involving ideas of purpose, utility, etc., in addition to images of refined and complicated outlines, they are quite liable to be named by transference, and hence do not concern us here. The number of speech-sounds that may be used as imitations of the sound of a blow is very large. The best imitations are generally mono- syllabic roots with short vowels and final stops. There is. however, some latitude in this respect. Differences in the sound perceived are to some extent graded in the imitations. This is particularly true of the vowels. A dull, heavy sound, such as proceeds from a heavy body striking, is generally represented by the "u" vowel, possibly by the "o" ; while the "i" preferably imitates a light sound. Differences in the consonants, as indicating different kinds of blows, are not so easily accounted for, al- though in some cases even that is possible. The speech-sounds actually chosen as imitations depend, of course, on the language in which they are used. A German, for instance, will not use a symbol like "thud," for the simple reason that he is not in the habit of pronouncing such a sound. 184 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME Speech-sounds that are already associated in the minds of a com- munity with definite concepts will, naturally, not be allowed to enter the language as imitations, as long as the old association persists. This is the general principle ; but the matter is more complex than may be stated and considered here. The principle, however, can be reasoned out. If, for instance, one perceives a foot making a track, a depression, in the ground, quite a number of sound imitations as names for this depression may suggest themselves : as "track, tack, tap, pat, hack, etc." Let us suppose now that "tap" becomes the name for a depression in the ground made by a human foot. It is plain that as long as this association per- sists no other imitation would enter the language as a symbol for such a depression. But if the symbol "tap" travels on to some other concept, if, as may easily happen, it becomes the name for a vessel (cf. Bav. dial, "tapp, Gefasz in welches die Milch zum Rahmen gegossen wird"), then the path would be clear for some other imitation, say "track," to be asso- ciated with the concept of a depression made by a foot. The speech- sound "tap," on the other hand, as long as it remained in the language, would prevent a new imitation "tap" from entering. But let us suppose that the word "tap" underwent a phonetic change : that it changed to "topf" (cf. "Topf, tie feres Gefasz von Ton oder Metall") ; then, it is plain, the path would be clear for "tap" to enter the language again, other circumstances permitting. Thus the two factors, change of meaning and change of sound, act as gatekeepers, so to speak, which control the entrance of imitations into the language. It may be stated in passing that language growth not only in its initial stages but as a whole is subject to these two forces. The origin of a word from sound imitation is not always evident. This may sometimes be due to the fact that the speech-sound in question is a very poor imitation. Far more important in this respect, however, is the meaning of the word. Other conditions being not unfav- orable, original associations due to sound imitation are easily recognized as such when the word designates the sound itself. If the word points out a motion which is apt to produce a sound, its onomatopoetic origin is usually likewise evident. But if it refers to a thing, especially to a lifeless and motionless thing, its origin from sound imitation is not evident. The following examples will illustrate these different cases : "dump, the sound of a heavy object falling." Seeing that the speech-symbol corresponds to the sound that the concept points to, this word will readily be recog- nized as due to sound imitation. A somewhat different concept associ- ated with "dump" is the following: "a fall of a heavy object producing ORIGIN OF SPEECH-SOUNDS — KILMER a dull sound." Here the concept has reference no longer directly to the sound, but to a motion ; but since the sound is a determining factor in the description of the motion, this word, too, will impress most English- speaking persons as onomatopoetic. Less apparent is this in "dump (chiefly U. S.), to throw down in a lump or mass, as in tilting anything out of a cart" ; although the concept of a heavy body or mass thrown to the ground is very apt to conjure up the idea of a sound such as is bound up with such a fall, especially since the speech-sound "dump" points to it. With the word "dump, to unload," where the concept has reference to a falling and striking mass only indirectly, we would need special cir- cumstances to remind us that the word arose from sound imitation. Least of all is one likely to connect the idea of sound with a mass that has no apparent connection with sound or motion, such as is indicated in the word "dump, anything short, thick, and heavy." To get on the track of the possible onomatopoetic origin of such a word, it is necessary to realize that it may proceed from the same phenomenon which gives rise to the first word of this series, namely "dump, the sound of a heavy object falling." The number of such imitations entering the language of a highly developed people is comparatively small at a given time, but amounts to a large number in the course of centuries. Their significance, however, does not lie merely in this, but above all in the vast opportuni- ties for further transference that their original association with the three most general concepts of outline and of short, quick motions offers. (The concepts of the sounds of short, quick blows will be omitted from further consideration, seeing that there are but few concepts in the realm of sound beyond those originally associated with speech symbols. ) To get a clear view of this, it is advisable to eliminate some factors which might perhaps obscure the issue. First: All phonetic changes and the compli- cations they involve will be taken for granted. Second : Language has developed with man ; there never can have been a time when there were not speech-symbols for all the concepts current in a community ; in other words, there never can have existed a "clear track," so to speak, for all the possibilities of transference for a given speech-sound. We will. however, assume such a clear track, and furthermore we will imagine that there existed at the time all the original associations of concepts and speech-sounds that would come about under normal conditions. Third: The number of original associations in a language at a given time is comparatively small, but many concepts (particularly those with which this investigation has to do) are associated over and over again with l86 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME new symbols, the old ones passing on to other concepts, unless they get lost altogether. To simplify matters, we will regard all the speech-sounds that in the course of time become originally associated with one and the same concept as a type, and speak of them as of one symbol. Fourth and last: We will eliminate all transferences by composition, so that we have to deal only with direct transferences. This step is justifiable on the ground that composition is possible only on the basis of the vocabu- lary developed through direct transference from original associations, and that, in general, the speech-symbols which start with the best chances for direct transference (on acount of the nature of the concepts with which they are originally associated) would likewise have the best chances for transference by composition. Moreover, the basic concepts m the human mind are the concepts of forms and actions; and these are, even in a highly developed stage of civilization, as a rule most con- veniently named by direct transference, as far as they are not associated originally with speech-symbols. These obscuring factors eliminated, it is now possible to get a clear view of the opportunities for transference of speech-sounds originally associated with the three most general concepts of form and with the concepts of short, quick motions, as over against the opportunities of speech-sounds originally associated with any other concepts. First, the three most general concepts of form (or of things, inasmuch as the out- line determines the thing) will be compared with other concepts of things; and second, the concepts of short, quick motions (the most fundamental concepts of action) will be compared with other concepts of action. The original association of speech-sounds with each of the three most general concepts of things may arise, as has been pointed out, from one and the same phenomenon. Moreover, a speech-sound may be trans- ferred from the concept of a mass to that of a projection, and vice versa, seeing that a projection may conjure up the concept (and with it the name) of a mass, and that a mass may remind one of a projection. Similarly, the concepts of a projection and a depression may exchange their symbols, because one and the same sight impression may give rise to either the concept of a projection or that of a depression — it depends on the point of view. In addition, there are other opportunities, too com- plicated to be considered here, for the interchange of the symbols of these concepts. From these considerations it is advisable not to deal separately with the three channels of development which start from the original names for a mass, a projection, and a depression, but to treat them together. ORIGIN OF SPEECH-SOUNDS — HILMER 187 The concepts of a mass, a projection, and a depression are the least complex concepts of things possible ; hence speech-sounds travehng by direct transference must — in accordance with the law explained before — move away from these concepts and not towards them. Furthermore, these concepts are likewise the most general concepts of things ; hence speech-sounds associated with them can reach either immediately or by successive steps any other concepts of things. This fact would not be so very important if the large number of other concepts of things which are within immediate reach of the speech-sounds proceeding from the three most fundamental ones, w^ere likewise liable to be named by original association. But this is not at all the case, for most of the things in ques- tion are silent and motionless, and preclude that possibility.^ Some things, especially implements, may be named, under favorable conditions, after the sound issuing from them. The concepts of these things, how- ever, contain, in addition to the image of definite outlines, ideas of pur- pose, utility, etc. ; and this condition does not oiTer their symbols favor- able chances for spreading far to other fields of concepts by direct trans- ference. The relative importance of the symbols originally associated with the concept of a mass, a projection, and a depression as over against the symbols originally associated with any other concepts of things, may be illustrated by the picture of the system of pipes supplying a city with water. If a fluid of a certain color, say green, should be forced into the mains at the pumping station and at the same time other colors into a number of small branch pipes, then these other colors would of course leach a number of districts before the green color could get there, but the area of these districts would be insignificant compared with the territory covered by the green. The speech-sounds associated w'ith the concepts of a mass, a projection, and a depression correspond to the green fluid. In reality, of course, direct transference cannot be kept apart from composition, as has been explained. There are, however, a large number of things so constituted that they are, as a rule, most naturally and con- veniently named directly after a mass, or a projection, or a depression. These are particularly objects in nature and some other things with which one associates generally no other idea than the image of their shape. Of this English and German, especially the dialects of these languages, oflfer abundant proof. Thus from the concepts of a mass or a projection are transferred names for the most varied kinds of bodies, lumps, chunks, blocks, knobs, knots, etc. ; and furthermore, names for all sorts of pro- ' An analysis of all the possible sources of speech-symbols cannot be attempted here ; it will be found in the book mentioned before. l88 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME jections and elevations, from the tiniest speck to the mightiest mountain, from the gently rounded hill to the steepest cliff, from the point to the edge. Then there are projections which lie in a plain, as corners, angles, bends, jetties, etc. In the same way the original symbols for a depression pass on to the concepts of all kinds of pits, dents, holes, caves — in fact to the concepts of those things which present, so to speak, the opposite pictures to projections. Somewhat farther removed from original sources, but still in a direct line, are the concepts of a great variety of projections on plants, as buds, knots, knurls, nodes, fruits ; and on living creatures, as knuckles, joints, bones, and other projecting parts ; as well as many projections and depressions on things made by man, for instance, on buildings. Many designations for human beings, especially for chil- dren, have no doubt arisen from original names for a mass ; words like, "knabe" (knappe, knave), "kerl," "knecht" (knight), "knirps," "bube," "kind," and many others found in the dialects. The names for a mass or a projection frequently descend to four groups of concepts, which have increasing degrees of complexity, in such a manner that the speech-sound may reach the most complex concept either directly or through the intermediary other groups. They are: first, the concept of a heap; second, of a bundle; third, of a bunch, a cluster, or a tuft; fourth, of a group of things. The whole series presents the picture of a mass or projection unfolding and finally splitting up into fragments. Of this origin are most words of the type of German "Haufen," "Hocken," "Stapel" ; EngUsh "pile," "stock" ; German "Bund," "Pack," "Bunch," "Biischel," "Busch," "Garbe," "Schopf" (Haarbiischel) ; EngHsh "shrub," "brush," "shock," "hair" ; also German "Gras," "Halm" ; Enghsh "tuft," "bent," "reed"; German "Gruppe," "Heer," "Schar," "Schock" (Masz) ; English "throng," "school" (number of fishes). From original names for a depression are derived numerous names for vessels, as German "Becken," "Schale," "Napf," "Fasz"; EngUsh "bin," "bunker," "vessel" (vat). From the concept of a vessel (container) the speech-sound frequently passes on to that of a ship. Many of the older names for ships are un- doubtedly of this origin. Of course, modern ships, which are so much more than mere floating containers, are more likely to receive their designations according to some special characteristic, hence by composi- tion ; thus have arisen names like "steamer," "cruiser," "liner," "tanker." As pointed out and illustrated by the examples given, concepts of things are likely to be named by direct transference, if the image of outlines is the dominating factor. If some special characteristic is em- phasized the thing in question is more conveniently named by compo- ORIGIN OF SPEECH-SOUNDS HILMER 189 sition. This principle establishes the border-line between the two modes of associating speech-symbols by transference. This border-line is, of course, not sharp and definite ; the two territories frequently overlap and sometimes interpenetrate deeply. Complex concepts must not be confused with abstract ones. Among the latter there are many which may be named most conveniently and naturally after some simple concept by direct transference: for instance, a difficult problem may be called in German a "knoten," after the knot in a rope ; a word that has come about, no doubt, through associating the hard lump (the "knoten") in a rope with any hard lump, which was known by the name of "knoten." The second important kind of concepts which are named after the sound of a blow are the concepts of short, quick motions. These concepts bear the same relative importance to other concepts of action as do the three fundamental concepts of outhne to other concepts of things ; and the simile of the system of water-pipes used above in reference to con- cepts of things applies likewise to concepts of actions — with due allow- ance, of course, for the difference between things and actions. The origin of the symbols for motions from sound imitation is much more evident than is the origin from the same source of symbols for a mass or a projection or a depression. On the other hand, it is not possible to de- termine the starting points of the symbols for concepts of motions so exactly as the starting points of the symbols for the three most funda- mental concepts of things ; for every short, quick motion is apt to con- jure up the impression of the sound of a blow, even if the motion does not produce an audible sound, — in fact, even if it does not hit anything. It is therefore in many cases impossible to judge whether the word is due to original association or to transference. Frequently, no doubt, both these causes have their share in establishing and fixing it in a com- munity. In the measure that the concept contains more and more abstract ideas— as of purpose, utility, etc. — along with the image of the moving thing, the likelihood that the concept owes its symbol to original associa- tion becomes less. The following series of words, taken from German dictionaries, will make that clear: "Tapp, zur bezeichnung des schalles, den etwas auf- oder zusammenschlagendes erzeugt." "Tapp, klappender schlag, klaps." "Tappe, ein schlag mit der hand." "Tappen, komish- verachtlicher ausdruck fiir plumpes, ungeschicktes zugreifen." "Tappen ertappen, erwischen, ergreifen." "Tappen, sich an einen ort im finstern tappen, oder von einem bUnden, tappend mit den handen vorher fiihlend, suchend sich an einem ort finden." "Tappen" is used furthermore in Ger- I90 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME man in an entirely abstract sense, namely that of thinking hesitatingly and carefully along certain lines. The direction of the speech-symbols moving by direct transference through the field of concepts of actions, is frequently determined not merely by the factor of a motion inherent in all concepts of actions, but likewise by the nature of the thing moving. The series of words just quoted is an illustration of this. Of course this does not preclude that the speech-sound associated with the concepts of the motions of one thing may become associated with the concepts of motions of another thing or other things. A further discussion of the possibilities in this respect will be found in the book referred to before. Concepts of action which emphasize other activities than that of a simple motion are likely to be named by composition; as, "to finger" after the noun "finger." There is, however, no sharp line between direct transference and composition. Concepts which contain the idea that a certain definite thing or a characteristic (adjective-concept) is to be made, must of course receive their speech-symbols from the concept of that thing or characteristic; for it is impossible to conceive that a certain thing or characteristic is to be produced if the image of that thing or characteristic, and with it its speech-symbol, is not clearly borne in mind. Thus the verb "knot, to make or tie a knot," is formed on the noun "knot, a comphcation in a string" ; and the verb "blacken, to make black," on the adjective "black, the darkest color." The preceding argument aims to show that the speech-sounds de- rived from the imitation of the sound of a blow (action of one thing striking another) must (on account of their original association with the three fundamental concepts of outline and the fundamental concepts of motions) become associated, through direct transference, with a by far larger number of concepts of things and actions than can be reached through this means by all other speech-sounds taken together. Seeing now that things and occurrences (or actions) are the only phenomena which may be pointed out and named independently of any previous associations,* it follows that the imitations of the sound of a blow must be the foundation for the larger part of the entire vocabulary of a lan- guage. *A11 concepts which are not things or actions presuppose comparison or some sort of analysis. After a language has developed a certain vocabulary, it is of course possible to define and arbitrarily name any concept; but as a source for further and far-reaching development such cases have comparatively little im- portance. ORIGIN OF SPEECH-SOUNDS HILMER IQI A word remains to be said about the development of the adjective. The concept of an adjective depends on analysis. It is impossible to conceive it without putting- at least two concepts of things with a com- mon characteristic side by side for comparison. The most natural way of associating- the concept of a characteristic (adjective) with a speech- sound is obviously that of referring to it by means of the name of a thing which has that characteristic in a pronounced measure. This is, in fact, the origin of the names of most colors. After the idea and the form of the adjective have become the property of a community, this process of naming adjectives is simple enough ; yet it must have taken ages to de- velop it, for it marks the first step in analysis — in other words, the first stage in the development of the thinking man. Most names for concrete adjectives (color, shape, size, density, etc.) must have been derived from names of things, direct transference of speech-sounds between concepts of concrete adjectives being likely only within narrow limits. There is, of course, nothing to prevent trans- ferring speech-sounds by this means from the concept of a concrete adjective to that of an abstract one. That many abstract adjectives may be named by composition, after a verb, is likewise self-evident. The importance of the imitations of the sound of a blow in language development is not apparent in the language of a highly developed com- munity, for the number of new imitations of that type which enter within a short period — say the lifetime of a human being — is small as compared with the total vocabulary; and the older word-roots of the same origin have as a rule changed so much either phonetically or semasiologically, or in both these respects, that in many cases all traces of their source are obliterated. Nevertheless, by comparing the sound imitations of blows and the words evidently derived from them in a number of related lan- guages, especially in related dialects, it is possible to obtain an ideal picture of the main lines of development from this source. Abundant material of this sort will be found arranged in my book on "Schallnach- ahmung, Wortschopfung und Bedeutungswandel." On the strength of this material I do not hesitate to assert that at least three-fourths of the vocabulary of the Germanic languages (most likely it is even a larger part) goes ultimately back to imitations of sounds of blows. The stream of words that flows from this mighty source as compared with the total vocabulary of a language might be likened to a huge river constituting the main supply of a large body of water, — for instance, as the Volga feeds the Caspian Sea. The water of the Caspian Sea is salt and different from that of the Volga, yet it is principally the Volga 192 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME that maintains the Caspian Sea and has maintained it for ages. In a similar manner is the ocean of words in a language different from its main supply, namely from the mighty stream that goes back to the imi- tations of sounds of blows. Furthermore, as the current of the river may be followed up for long distances even in the salt water before it finally disappears, so may the current from which the ocean of words is principally fed, be pursued deep into the language before all traces of it have disappeared. NOTES ON "FLOIRE ET BLANCHEFLOR" Oliver Martin Johnston OF THE two old French poems on Floire and Blancheflor, one is known as the aristocratic version and the other as the popular version/ The latter, which is very much inferior to the former, has been preserved in only one manuscript, and that is of the fourteenth century. The Bibliotheque Nationale at Paris contains three manuscripts of the aristocratic version, which may be designated as A, B, C. Du Meril claims to have made use of all three of these manuscripts in the construction of his text, but, as will be seen in the following notes, the different manuscript readings did not always receive the consideration that they deserve. I, "Mais qui H porroit si tolir Ou'ele n'en esteust morir, _ 3^^ Cou m'est a vis plus bel seroit." Li rois respont tout entreset: "Dame," dist il, "et jou I'otroi ; Consilhez en et vous et moi." ^ In the passage just quoted Du Meril follows Ms. B. in making seroil rime with entreset (= entrcsait^). Ms. A. reads as follows: Cou m'est avis plus bel seroit. Li rois la dame respondoit. The difficulty in the reading found in B lies in the fact that according to the statement of grammarians •» oi was not pronounced ivz until con- »^r a discussion of the characteristics of these two versions, compare Du Meril, Floire et Blanceflor, Paris, 1856. pp.. xix-xxi. ' Unless otherwise stated, references will be to the edition of Du Meril. * Other examples of oi riming with ai in B are : II li otroie a moult grant paine; Volentiers i trovast essoine. (vv. 355-6) Or m'escoutez; je vous dirai Le meillor conseill que g' i voi. (vv. 1892-3). *See Grammaire historique de la langue franiovse, Leipzig and Paris, 1899, par. 158; Meyer-Liibke, Grammaire des Langues Romanes, I, pp. 95-97- 1^4 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME siderably after the date of the composition of Floire et Blancheflor, which was probably written between 1160 and 1170. The poem could not have been written later than 1170 as that is the date of the earliest foreign imitation of the French version. With reference to the earliest examples of oi pronounced we, Nyrop says :^ "Vers la fin du XIII * siecle, le group oi, quelle qu'en soit I'origine, s'altere et finit par passer a une nouvelle articulation [we],^ tout en restant graphiquement intact." How- ever, the language of our poem seems to indicate that the author was an Anglo-Norman.^ If this be true, seroit and entreset were doubtless writ- ten sereit and entresait (or entreseit") in the original. The rime ai : ei would then offer no difficulty, as examples of it are found in Anglo- Norman texts of the twelfth century.'' With reference to the examples of ai : ei found in Chardry," Mussafia says: " "Wenn ai : ei nur 6 mal gegen 80 von ai : ai erscheint, so hangt Diess davon ab, dass fast alle Falle von ai : ai lat, habeo (im Praesens und Futurum) betreffen, so dass alle diese Stellen eigentlich nur eine einzige ausmachen ; sieht man von derselben ab, so ist die Anzahl der Falle von ai : ai kaum grosser als die von ai : ei." Examples of ai (written ei) riming with ei in the works of Simund de Freine are: De pussance plus dirrei: Bunte nule n'ad en sei. (Le Roman de Philosophie, 819-20.) Ore entendez plus a mei}^ Un essample vus mettrei Par ki savrez sanz dutance Ke malveis horn n'ad pussance.^* (R. Ph. 1 481 -4.) ^Op. cit.. par. 158. *For the phonetic symbol used by Nyrop I have substituted that of the Asso- ciation Phonetique. See p. 7- * See The Anglo-Norman Dialect, by L. E. Menger, New York, 1904, p. 51 ; "In this connection Uhlemann notes that in Anglo-Norman ei for etymological ai is frequent." • See Les Oeuvres dc Simund de Freine, by John E. Matzke, Paris, 1909, PP- xxiii-iv. "Regarding the date of Chardry, Menger (op. cit., p. 22) says: "Since the London MS. was written before 1216, the original must have been composed in the course of the twelfth century." ^' See Zeitschrift fiir rom. Philologie III, 593- '^For other instances of ai riming with ei in the works of Simund de Freine, compare Matzke, op. cit., pp. xxiii-iv. "With reference to the date of the writings of Simund de Freine, Matzke (op. cit., p. xi) says: "Les deux poemes appartiennent, selon nous, a la fin du XIP siecle." NOTES ON "p'LOIRE ET JU.ANCH EFT-OR" — JOHNSTON I95 2. Floire, the son of kin^ I'""elis of Sj)ain, and Blancheflor, the daugh- ter of a Christian slave, grow up together and love each other tenderly. The king seeing that his son loves Blancheflor resolves to have her slain as soon as possible. The (|ueen having opposed this plan, however, they decide to send Floire to Montoire, promising him that Blancheflor will join him soon. Floire goes away sad and at the end of a week begins to grieve and refuses to eat. As soon as the king learns the result of the sep- aration of the two lovers he proposes again to have the young girl slain. The queen still refuses to give her consent and suggests that it would be better to sell her to some merchants going to Babylon. With reference to the interview between the king and the queen and the king's decision to sell Blancheflor to the merchants, our poet says : La roine li respond! : "Sire," fait el, "por Diu merchi! A cest port a moult marceans 405 De Babiloine, bien manans. Au port la fai mener et vendre : Grant avoir pues illoeques prendre. Cil I'en-menront ; car moult est bele : Ja n'orrez mais de li novele. 410 Si en serons delivre bien Sans estre homecide de rien." Li rois a grant paine I'otroie : Par um bori^ois au port I'envoie, Qui de marcie estoit moult sages 415 Et sot parler de mains laiigages. Ne la fist pas par convoitise Vendre li rois en nule guise : Mius amast qu'ele fust finee Que de rouge or une navee 420 Le pechie crient, por cou le lait. Li marceans au port s'en-vait, Et a eus offre la pucele, Que I'acatent : car moult ert bele. Cil I'acaterent maintenant 425 (Car moult est bele par sanblant ) Trente mars d'or et vint d'argent, etc. Regarding the lines beginning with v. 422, Du Meril says : "Les vers suivants sont probablement alteres ; mais commc ils manquent dans B, nous n'avons aucun moyen d'ameliorer avec certitude le texte du ms. A." A form that might give rise to difficulty in the interpretation of the passage quoted above is the word marceans in v. 422. In v. 405 the 196 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME author uses marceans in speaking of the merchants to whom Blancheflor was sold. It seems fairly certain, however, that marceans in v. 422 refers to borgois (v. 414). If marceans (v. 422) and borgois refer to the same person, the meaning is perfectly clear. Du Meril is wrong in using que in v. 424. Both A and C, the only manuscripts containing this portion of the text, show qui. Que I'acatent is meaningless. On the other hand, if qtii is substituted for que, the line offers no difficulty whatever, the antecedent of the relative being eus, which refers to the merchants who bought Blancheflor. There does not seem to be any reason therefore for believing that the text of the passage under discussion is corrupt, as Du Meril supposed. 3. Cele piere qui sus gisoit, De tres-fin marbre faite estoit, Inde, jaune, noir et vermeil : Moult reluisoit contre soleil. Si fut entaillie environ 555 De la trifoire Salemon. Regarding the phrase trifoire Salemon, Otto Sohring says :^* Dies scheint mir eine Vermischung zweier haufiger Wendungen : oevre trifoire [an einem Turm in Part 822, einem Horn aus Elfenbein Perc. 28487, cf. auch trifoire als prad. Adj.: devers la ville erent trifoire | li mur . . . En. 445; weitere Belege zu trifoire subst. und adj. s. bei Godefroy VIII, 74. 75] — und oevre Salemon [Li pumiaus et li aigle en son | Furent de I'oevre Salemon Blanc. 4095 ; li arcon | furent de I'uevre Salemon En. 4075. li pecol e li limun furent a I'uevre Salemun Guig. 170 . . . cf. Du Cange VI, 42]. Beide Wendungen scheinen ungefahr dasselbe zu bedeuten, werden auch haufig zusammengestellt (En. 4075 fif. ; Guig. 170 fif.). The passage under consideration reads as follows in B : Cele pierre qui sus gisoit, Feite de moult fin marbre estoit, Inde, jaune, noir et vermeill : Moult reluisoit contre soleill. Si fu entailliee environ De la bonne euvre Salemon. The reading of B {la bonne euvre Salemon) doubtless represents the language of the author. The phrase oevre Salemon is frequently " See Romanische Forschungen, XII, p. 529. NOTES ON FLOIRE ET BLANCHEFLOR — JOHNSTON 197 used in old French."^ With reference to trifoire Salemon, on the other hand, Alfred Dressier says :'" "Was das heissen soil, ist mir nicht recht klar. 'trifore' wird im Eneas stetes und sonst meist als Adjektiv verd- wendet (vgl. Godefroy)." 4. Chiez un borgois sont herbergie, Qui riches horn ert au marcie, 1200 Et notoniers, et marceans. (A and C) Chies un bourgois sont herbergie, Qui riches ert et alose, Notonier iert et marcheanz. (B) In a note on ou marcie, Du Meril says : "Cette fin de vers est sans doute corrompue ; mais elle nous semble encore preferable a celle qui se trouve dans B ; alose ne ferait pas une rime sufifisante." It will be observed that the editor of our poem regarded ou marcie as an unsatis- factory reading (cette fin de vers est sans doute corrompue), but pre- ferred it to alose, because he did not consider herbergie-alosc a satis- factory rime. The confusion of ie and ^ is a well known characteristic of the Anglo-Norman dialect. In his edition of Le Bestiaire de Philippe de Thaiin (Introduction, p. li), Emmanuel Walberg says: "Comme Ton sait, la confusion de ie avec e, a une epoque ou les dialectes du continent distinguaient encore ces deux sons, est un trait caracteristique de I'anglo- normand." '" In view of the fact that the verse of Floire et Blancheflor shows another Anglo-Norman characteristic, namely, the occurrence of four and sometimes six lines in succession with the same rime, is it not more probable that dose was in the original and that it was changed " Enmi la nef trova un lit, Dunt li pecol e li limiin Furent a I'ucvrc Selemun Taillie a or, tut a trifoire, De cipres e de blanc ivoire. (Marie, Lais, Guigemar, 170, Warnke.) Trestot de I'ucvre Salemon mout sotilment ovree. (De Venus In decsse d'amor, st. 214, Foerster.) li arcon Furent de I'uczre Sale vt on. (En. 4075.) "See Per Einfluss dcs altfranzosischcn Eneas-Romanes auf die altfran- sosische Litteratur, Borna-Leipzig, 1907, p. I39- "Compare also John E. Matzke, Les Oeuvres de Simund de Freine, Paris, 1909, p. xix. ip8 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME to marcic by a scribe who was not familiar with the rime herhergie-alose? Our text contains eighteen passages where four consecutive lines rime together and one where six lines have the same rime. L'amirals grant pris en aroit, Cou m'est a vis, et mius seroit. Et quant il I'engien en saroit; Contregarder mius s'en porroit/* (vv. 2735-38.) "Grant doel en fist; caiens jou Vvi." Quant Floire lot, si s'esbahi, Qu'isnelement li respondi, Et dist: "Non frere, mais ami." De cou qu'ot dit se repenti: "Mais freres, dame; jou mesdi." ^^ (vv. 1523-28.) With reference to groups of four and six lines riming together, Paul Meyer says : ^^ "Quelques poetes, originaires generalement de Nor- mandie ou d'Angleterre, admettent parfois quatre vers ou plus sur les memes rimes." ^^ 5. Andoi li sont cheu as pies ; A grant joie li ont baisies. (vv. 2521-2.) In Du Meril's edition v. 2522 reads: A grant joie les ont baisies. Notwithstanding the fact that this line is the same in all three of "For other groups of four consecutive lines riming together, compare 372-5", 721-4; 733-6; 1087-90; 1093-6; 1 1 13-16; 1 185-8; 1283-6; 1391-4; 1531-4; 1673-6; 1869-72; 1887-90; 1903-6; 1953-6; 2561-4; 2803-6. For another Anglo-Norman characteristic of our poem, compare pp. 193-4- " Compare also 503-8 ; 917-22. ^''See L'Escoufle, Roman d' Adventure (Societe des Anciens textes), p. Hi. " Compare also Fragments d'line vie de Saint Thomas de Cantorbery, pub. par Paul Meyer, pp. xxxv-xxxvi : Nos fragments presentent plusieurs exemples d'une autre irregularite qui du reste n'est pas sans exemple dans I'ancienne poesie frangaise et qui est devenue assez frequente dans la poesie anglo-normande : il donne mainte fois la meme rime a quatre vers consecutifs et meme a six; voy. I, 37-4, 41-4; III, 13-8, 41-4, 95-8, 103-6; IV, 1-4. In a note on the word franqaise in the quotation just given the editor says : "II serait peut etre plus exact de dire 'poesie normande', car c'est surtout chez Wace que cette particularity s'observe." NOTES ON "fLOIRE ET BLANCHEFLOR" — JOHNSTON 199 the manuscripts, Du Meril substituted the accusative les for the dative li. The form used in his edition shows that he did not understand the con- struction in question. In such cases usage requires two pronouns, a dative and an accusative form. While the latter is usually omitted in orthography, it is always understood and regarded as the object of the verb. For example, in A grant joie li out baisics, the past participle baisies agrees with the accusative pronoun Ics, which is understood. If expressed in full, this line would therefore read : A grant joie les li ont baisies. The pronoun les is omitted here, however, because, as a rule, an accusative pronoun of the third person was not expressed before a dative pronoun of the same person in Old French. In this connection Paris and Langlois say :^- "Devant le pronom personnel de la 3* per- sonne au datif, jamais le pronom de la meme personne a I'accusatif n'est exprime : Li rois ses pere (la) li vout le jor doner {Cour. 48). Dessoz la bocle (le) li fist fraindre et percier (Raoul 134). Quant je (les) li voi rompre (I vain 60). II n'ot pas loisir de luy reprendre {Frois. 245). Conf. Cour. 113, 132, 155; Ivain 255, 256; Greb. 62, etc." While the quotation just given states the general rule for the use of two pro- nouns of the third person in the construction under consideration, the statement should be slightly modified, as will be seen from the following examples where both the accusative and the dative are used : Receut I'almosne quant Deus la li tramist. (La vie de Saint Alexis, ed. by Paris and Pannier, 20). Ne s'en corocet giens cil saintismes horn, Ainz preiet Deu cjued il le lor pardonist Par sa mercit, quer ne sevent que font. (Ibid., 54.) The reason for the omission of the accusative in the construction under discussion lies in the fact that combinations like le li, la li, les li, le lor, etc. were objectionable because of the occurrence of / at the begin- ning of two consecutive words. ^•' "See Chrcstomathie du Moycn Age, extraits publics par G. Paris ct E. Lang- lois, Paris, 1897, p. Ixvi, 191. "Compare the indefinite on, which often takes the article after et, ou. ou, que, si, but requires that the article be omitted, if the next word begins with /. For instance, one says si Von voit, but si on le voit. FRENCH CULTURE AND EARLY MIDDLE ENGLISH FORMS OF ADDRESS Arthur G. Kennedy IN NO respect, perhaps, are the effects of the coming of French culture into medieval England more marked than in the titles used in direct address. In the older literature of the transitional period which extended from the time of the coming of the Normans to about the end o£ the thirteenth century there is still prevalent that Anglo-Saxon direct- ness and frankness of speech which leaves no such impression of ambi- guity as was possible later when one could call his worst enemy belamy. In the religious, and especially in the homiletic Uterature, the speaker calls his hearer simply mon, or for the plural, men} This use of the vocative when the speaker is attempting to impress some moral truth is occasionally to be found in Hterature written later in the thirteenth century.2 In the few other instances where it occurs in the later litera- ture of the period under consideration it seems to imply a sUghtly critical or perhaps unfavorable attitude on the part of the speaker, thus corre- sponding to our modern use of it in showing amazed disapproval. Pilate, in Cursor Mundi, uses it in addressing the accused Jesus and Jesus speaks to sinful man.^ The unqualified use of the proper name is also common, particularly in Lajamon's Brut, in the alHterative lives of saints, in Genesis and Exodus, etc., even a king being frequently addressed with no title what- ever to soften the seeming bluntness in the use of the name.^ Here, again, the later use of the name alone seems, in addresses to men of superior rank, such as Pilate or Richard of Cornwall, to show a some- what contemptuous feehng on the part of the speakers.^ To a certain extent, of course, this usage must be ascribed to the Biblical origin of ^Cf. Lambeth Paternoster (E. E. T. S. 29) 59:99, Ancren Riwie (ed. Morton) 276:13, Old English Miscellany (E. E. T. S.49) 20:5, Prov. of Hending (Anglia 4:180) version C, 14:10, Surtees Psalter (ed. Stevenson) 36:10, etc. 'Cf. Kildare Poems (ed. Heuser in Bonner Beitrage XVII) 1:80, 3:29, 10 : 48, etc. 'Cursor Mundi (E. E. T. S. 57, 59, etc.) 16241, I7i44- *Cf. Laj. (ed. Madden) 10991, 11424, 18150. 'Cursor M. 16033, Poems of Harl. 2253 (ed. Boddeker) Pol. Lieder 1:6, etc. MIDDLE ENGLISH FORMS OF ADDRESS — KENNEDY 20I the literature in which it occurs. This is especially true of such late thirteenth-century pieces as Cursor Mundi, Song of Joseph and some of the legends. But whether it was influenced much or little by Biblical usage, it is common in the earlier Middle English literature, as is also the use in direct address of the unqualified noun which names the official rank or social standing of the person addressed, as, for example, king, emperour, reue, keiser, cwen cnihtes, etc.^ It is true that a certain amount of deference was shown by the use of these titles, and yet they were not so much complimentary as obligatory, and the deference was compelled by the rank of the one addressed. If a speaker desired to show respect or aflfection, or contempt or dislike, for anyone, he quali- fied his vocatives, both proper and common nouns, in such a manner as to leave no doubt as to his feeling. Hence we find in the earlier litera- ture of this period such clear-cut vocatives as men pe leoueste, gode men, leoue bre^ren, leofemen, Juliane pe edie, luuewur6e wummon, or, pu scheomelese schucke, unseli men, fule ping, etc. These are especially common in the homiletic and legendary literature of the period.'^ Of course louerd and drihten must be named in this connection although they introduce complications too important for adequate treat- ment in this brief discussion. They are both used as titles of respect in addressing Christ. Moreover the two good old Anglo-Saxon words are waging a war of extermination, one upon the other, during the whole of the two centuries preceding 1300 A. D. In the Homihes of Bodley 343, of the early twelfth century, Christ is usually addressed by his followers as Drihten, rarely as Laford.^ In the Lambeth Homilies Drihten is used only once or twice, and Louerd usually.* In Vices and Virtues (ca. I2CXD), while the older form hlouerd occurs even more often than the form without the initial h, yet it has apparently entirely driven out drihten in direct address. It is true that drihten (drightin, etc.) occurs occa- sionally in later literature of the thirteenth century, and even down to the fifteenth ; yet it is no longer common. On the other hand lord is used much more frequently as a title of respect. It is, of course, used in •Cf. Life of Katherine (E. E. T. S. 80) 207, 1572, Life of Juliana (E. E. T. S. 51) 64:14, Laj. 15893, 21095, Gen. & Ex. (E. E. T. S. 7) 2133, Northern Legends (ed. Horstmann in Altengl. Leg. 1882) i : 434, etc. ' Cf. Homilies of Bodl. 343 (E. E. T. S. 137) i : 434, Poema Morale (ed. Morris and Skeat, Specimens of Early Engl. 1) 389, Lambeth Homilies ( E. E. T. S. 29-34) 5:30, 9: 10, Ormulum (ed. Flolt) 8652, Jul. 54:6, Marharete (E. E. T. S.13) 42b: 16, Gen. & Ex. 2315. etc. * Hom. of Bodl. 343 26 : 13, 62 : 23, 72 : 24, etc. • Lamb. Hom. 7 : 16, 43 : 18, etc. ^0 1^^ 202 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME all later literature as an appellation of Jesus or God.^° It is used regu- larly in addressing kings. ^^ Bishops and saints are usually addressed as lord, especially in the later legends/^ Persons of superior rank are so addressed, and sometimes a man will use this vocative in addressing another whom he has formerly regarded as his peer, just because he feels some special need of humiliating himself, as in the case of the Jew who had sinned and had been detected by a Christian.^ ^ In the later legends the wife of the prince calls her husband lord and in a few instances the more modern mi lord}* It is not uncommon for the poet, in moments of deep emotion, to use lord as an interjection, often quite devoid of all vocative force. ^^ The native word lauedi (leiiedi, lady, etc.) has besides its general application to a woman of superior rank also a special use as the form appropriate in addressing the Holy Virgin. Perhaps the latter use reacts upon the more general one, helping to keep for the word the idea of respect and chivalric deference which sets it quite apart from the newer French forms dame and madame. In the earlier literature of the transition period lady is used in addressing the house-wife.^® The hus- band of higher rank uses it also in addressing his wife.'^ But as early as the thirteenth century, in literature of Southern England especially, dame begins to take its place as the word appropriate to a wife or house- wife. The emperor addresses his queen as dame, the noble suitor calls his beloved dame, and the child uses it in addressing his mother.^* Lajamon does not use the word, but soon after his time it appears to have become quite settled in English usage. After the coming of dame the native lady is restricted much more in use. The Holy Virgin is always addressed as lady; nowhere in Eng- lish literature before about 1300 A. D. have I been able to find dame or madame applied to her. This restriction in the use of lady is seen most clearly, perhaps, in the Northern and Southern collections of saints' '"Cf. Harrowing of Hell (E. E. T. S. C) 147, 235, Surtees Psalter 12:4, 25:2, etc., Southern Legends (E. E. T. S. 87) 25:284, etc. " Cf. Barlaam and Josaphat (ed. Horstmann, Altengl. Leg. 1875) 185, Cursor Mundi 4716, Robt. of Gloucester (ed. Wright) 2736, etc. "Cf. North. Leg. 1:322, South. Leg. 27:1628, 37:100, etc. "South. Leg. 10:535, Havelok (ed. Skeat) 483, 617, Cursor Mundi 5397, etc. "Cf. North. Leg. 17:328, 25: 145, South. Leg. 66:502, etc. "'Cf. Body and Soul (ed. Stengel) 551, Cursor Mundi 9385, etc. "Cf. Ormulum 8659, King Horn (E. E. T. S. 14) 353, etc. "Cf. Laj. 3327. "Cf. Kath. 2080, Ancren Riwle 230:25, 390:7, Floris and Blauncheflur (E. E. T. S. 14) 121, 258, Dame Siriz (ed. Zupitza, Uebungsbuch) 37, 61, 221, etc. MIDDLE ENGLISH FOKMS OF ADDRESS — KENNEDY 2O3 lives of the late thirteenth century.'" The same feeling of reverence, apparently, induces the poet to use lady when a woman saint is addressed.-" And it is only a step farther to that use of the word in lyrical poems of the late thirteenth century where the lover addresses his beloved as ladyr^ Indeed the poems to the Holy Virgin exhibit so many characteristics of the worldly love poems that one would naturally expect to find the same form of address used in both types. And it is natural, therefore, that the form lady should come to show special resi)ect when used in addressing- a queen or princess.- In the Northern Legends it is noticeable, for instance, that the Jews address the queen as lady, but Katherine, who has no such spirit of subservience, uses dame.^^ As a matter of course the poet addresses his fair hearers or readers as ladies.'* Gradually, in the literature of the thirteenth century one begins to see the development of that narrower, more chivalric conception which is still felt with regard to the w^ord lady when it is employed in its best sense. The lady is no longer merely the woman of the house, the hl(pfdige, but she is the Holy Virgin, or she partakes of the attributes of the Virgin, or else she is to be reverenced because of her rank or her many admirable qualities as they appear to a lover or admirer. So it may be said that one of the first French words of address to enter the English came not as a luxury but as a necessity to perform part of the function of the native hlccfdige which was now restricted and at the same time exalted by the influence of the new foreign culture. One of the next words, however, to appear in early Middle English, tnadame, occasionally ma dame, is more of a luxury, an embellishment, in speech, and has in itself the idea of courtesy, of deference, even in the earliest occurrences noted. In Robert of Gloucester's Chronicle where queens are addressed as ma dame and in the Gottingen MS. of Cursor Mundi which along with later MSS. substitutes madame for lauedi of the Cotton MS. in Joseph's speech to Potiphar's wife, the word is clearly a complimentary title. ^^ In view of this fact and of the fact, previously noted, that dame came into the language as a form of address used mainly in intercourse where there was seemingly little reverence shown, the statement in the "Cf. Ancren Riwle 38:26, Compassio Mariae (E. E. T. S. 103) 14, 41. North Leg. 23:51, South. Leg. 39:65, 42: m, etc. "Juliana 52:5, Meidan Marcgrcte (ed. Horstmann. Alten^M. Lcp. 1882) 193,010. " Poems of Harl. 2253 Welt. Lieder 2 : 24, 3:7, etc. "Cf. Gen. & Ex. 2616, Havelok 2797, Cursor Mundi 4340, etc. ''North. Leg. 14:212, 34:408. " Cursor Mundi 28010. " Robt. of Glouc. 832, 5858, 6960, 8968, Cursor Mundi 434J. 204 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME New English Dictionary that "the early occurrence of Dame in the sense of mother suggests that an A. F. and early M. E. ma dame was very commonly used by children to their mother" seems rather questionable. In the English, at least, the early dame merely took on the ideas of wife, mother, housekeeper, without any special deference or reverence ; whereas ma dame carried with it from the first, if we may judge from the few extant examples of its early use, the ideas manifest in the new French culture, manifest also in such polite terms as sire, belamy, beau sire, beau frere, etc. Sire came into use early in the thirteenth century to take the place of the older, more abrupt vocative mon, and at the same time to intro- duce a new element of deference. The nun, in the Ancren Riwle, addresses her supposed critic with mesire, the woman uses sire in speaking to her confessor, Christ is addressed with sire.-^ It is, of course, common in Floris and Blauncheflur, where practically all male characters are addressed as sire.^'' It is not uncommon to find it used with the name of the person addressed, as, for example. Sire Daris, Sire Chauntecler ^^ or with the common noun naming the rank of the one spoken to, as. Sire Emperoure, Sire Duke, Sire King, tXcP In the lives of saints, both Northern and Southern collections, sir{e) is used in all cases where the man addressed is at all above ordinary rank, emperors, princes, judges, bishops, saints, etc. being addressed with the same respectful title. ^° Evidently it is regarded as the title due to men of higher social status, for in the legends even when the saints become contemptuous or openly hostile toward the rulers they continue to sir them.^^ In the later literature of the period under consideration the word is used — often where no rank is deferred to in the person addressed but where there is evident a striving for formality, a rather un-English effort to flatter the one addressed. So the poet addresses his readers, not as men or gode men, but as sires, palmer and porter call each other sire, wife addresses husband as sire, etc.^^ "Cf. Ancren Riwle 52:6, 316: 11, 318: 13, 406:8, etc. ^'Fl. & Bl. 38, 173, 577, etc. **Cf. Fl. & Bl. 158, Vox and Wolf (ed. Maetzner, Sprachproben I) 37, Laj. 24485, etc. "Cf. North. Leg. 28: 137, 34 : 89, South. Leg. 10: 482, 26: 83, Horn 838, Havelok 2861, Robt. of Glouc. 4450, etc. ^Cf. North. Leg. 14:69, 17:235, 19:71, South. Leg. 6:407, 10:591, etc. *'Cf. North. Leg. 34:89, South. Leg. 20: 128, 25: 15, etc. *^Cf. Cursor Mundi 23561, Legend of Eustace (ed. Horstmann, Altengl. Leg. 1882) 376, North. Leg. 16:752, Legend of Marina (ed. Boddeker) 144, etc. MIDDLE ENGLISH FORMS OF ADDRESS — KENNEDY 205 The later common use of the word as the title of a man of knightly rank is seen in a few instances in literature of about the end of the thirteenth century. ^^ On the whole there is, perhaps, no other word among the early French importations that shows as markedly the coming of a new culture into England as does this word sire. The old blunt mode of address has almost universally disappeared before the softening influence of this new vocative. Thus the way is paved for the use of a number of other forms of address which are in their original signification words of respect or aflFection. While the Ancren Riwle is not given over generally to French forms of address but the writer usually employs such native terms as leoue suster, leoue men, etc., yet an occasional use of belami shows his familiarity with French culture.^* So also the occasional appearance of the word in later thirteenth-century literature suggests a familiarity with it in the intercourse of every day life.^^ In a number of instances, where a king, prince or magistrate addresses as belami a prisoner or accused person there is a certain element of condescension or hostility which quite belies the seeming friendliness of the word.^** Moreover one cannot be certain that even a saint uses the word with sincerity toward human foes when he addresses even a devil as belami.^'' Most of the other French titles of respect which can be cited for the thirteenth century are to be found in the South English Legendary which displays so many evidences of strong French influence. Becket is addressed as beau sire by the king and St. Christopher receives the same title from a stranger.^^ The king addresses his bishops as beau seignonrs,^^ beau pere is addressed to the pope by the bishop of London ^* and beau frere is used quite frequently, sometimes in a distinctly friendly sense, as when the pope addresses the Earl of Arundel, or a bishop calls Sir Owayn beau frere, sometimes to show merely a good-natured attitude toward a stranger and occasionally to an enemy, even, who is to be propitiated, if possible.*" "Cf. 'Sir Simond ffrysel' in Harl. 2253, Polit. Liedcr 6:154. "Cf. Ancren Riwle 296:9, 366:27, and for belami 306: 19, 338:23. "Fl. & Bl. 633, Assumptio Marine (E. E. T. S. 14) 132, South. Leg. 27:816, Cursor Mundi 20176, Robt. of Glouc. 8020, Kildare Poems 5:93. etc. "Cf. South. Leg. 19:33, 37:279, 43:17, 48:65, 55:214- "Cf. South. Leg. 15:354, etc. " South. Leg. 27 : 469, 40 : 38. " South. Leg. 27 : 443. *" South. Leg. 27:1263, 35:53; 27:1869, 35:520, 40:38. 63:441; 60:175, 420, etc. 206 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME Related in spirit to this last group of vocatives, but formed of native stock is the title lording (loaerding, louerdling, etc.) which plays quite a prominent part among the forms of address used in the later literature of this period. In this word the new culture seems to have even gone so far as to coin out of old materials of the land a new title of address to perform an entirely new function. For nowhere in the older English usage do I find anything to correspond to lording as it is used by the poet in addressing his readers,*^ by kings and men of high rank in speaking to earls, bishops, etc.,*' or by any speaker, of high or low estate, who desires to show a half-flattering courtesy to common men of no special rank.*^ Lajamon, who seems not to have had many French words in his vocabulary, uses this complimentary diminutive — thrice, at least, it is changed in the later or B-version to the double diminutive louerd- ling ** — perhaps because, with all its foreign airs, it still sounds like a native Anglo-Saxon. The author of Cursor Mundi is especially fond of using it in addressing his readers. One cannot read thru English literature of the thirteenth century without gaining some very definite impressions concerning the new influence which has been at work upon the old culture — or, as the Nor- man invaders would probably have expressed it, the old lack of culture. The older native vocatives were blunt, intended to attract attention in a thoroly business-like way ; the newer ones often carried with them a slight touch of respectfulness or aflfection. Where, for example, the speaker in olden days said cyning, or Alfred, the man of later times would probably add a Sire. Again, the older vocatives were carefully adapted to the ofificial rank or social standing of the person addressed whereas the newer ones were applied not only to persons who deserved the titles but in many cases were degraded to apply to people in lower degree merely as a matter of compliment, at times, indeed, as a sly form of flattery. So general, indeed, became their application that they lost much of their forcefulness and the use of them often became a mere empty formality. And finally, the older vocative was generally demanded by the very exigencies of the case — if a man was called drihten or hlaford it was usually because the title was his by right of social standing — " Ormulum 918, 11679, Cursor Mundi 6863, 9375, etc. *^Cf. Ormulum 6406, Laj. 14828, 27394, Fl. & Bl. 647, South. Leg. 27:549, 795, Robt. of Glouc. 6874, 1 1564, etc. **Cf. Laj. 12664, South. Leg. 27:1517, 37:166, Havelok 1401, Cursor Mundi 6216, 8699, 14223, Robt. of Glouc. 4033, 9360, etc. "Laj. B. 12664, 13211, 14828. MIDDLE ENGLISH FORMS OF ADDRESS — KENNEDY 207 whereas the bestowal of the newer title was often a voluntary act of courtesy, a giving of good measure in the everyday transactions of life. If the older usage was more blunt, it was at the same time more fionest, more careful of the deserts, socially speaking, of the one addressed, whereas the new culture, while it brought with it a more courteous mode of address, at the same time dealt out these titles of courtesy so promiscuously that as coins of social exchange they deterio- rated greatly in value. THE LIFE OF THEOCRITUS Augustus Taber Murray FOR THE reconstruction of the life of Theocritus we have almost no information except such as we can derive from the study of the Idyls themselves. There is to be sure an anonymous Vita, a short article in Suidas, and scattered notes in the hypotheses and scholia to the various Idyls ; but from these we learn little, and that little is in most instances plainly based, not upon independent knowledge, but upon infer- ences, sometimes patently incorrect, from the language of the poet himself. That Theocritus was a Sicilian, a native of Syracuse, may be said to be a fact now universally accepted. It is stated in the Vita and in Suidas (though the latter adds ol M q)aoL Kwov) ; it is a necessary inference from the poet's own words (see e. g. Idyl XI, 7, 6 Kvyd.oi'y^, 6 jtttQ' dfxiv, and Idyl XXVIII, 16, diijiexeQag dnv /dovog, mention of Syracuse immediately following) ; and moreover the poetry of Theoc- ritus is in its essence thoroughly Sicilian. This last fact does not of itself necessarily prove Sicilian birth for the poet, for it is at least conceivable that he may have come to Sicily (from Cos, e.g.) sufficiently early in life to have his genius not only influenced, but in a large measure shaped by Sicilian surroundings. At the same time the character of the poetry of Theocritus is best explained on the assumption that he was native to these Sicilian influences, and that he grew up in the midst of them. Moreover there is no real evidence leading us to think of any other place than Sicily as the poet's birthplace. That he spent much time in Cos later in Hfe, and that he wrote many of his poems there, is incontestable; but save for the doubtful statement in Suidas, there is nothing to lead us to think he was a Coan by birth. This view, has, however, been held; and elaborate theories have been built up, based largely on a scholium on Idyl VII, 21, which thus explains the name Simichidas — the pseudonym under which Theocritus himself is introduced into Idyl VII: 2i[xixi8a- 01 \ikv adtov cpaai 0e6xqitov xa^o ^imxiSov {^i\xiyov ?) fjv mog, f| xa^o ai\ibq fjv. 01 §8 ETSQOV TlVa TWV OVV OVXM Xttl OV ©EOXQITOV . . . CpaoX be TOY TOIO^TOV djio jiatQiou xXT]dfivai, aitb Hiyay'ibov xov UeQiyMovg tcov 'OQXo\iEyi(iiv, oiTiveg jtoXiTEiac; jraQct Kcooig T£TVXi1Haoiv. The allusion to Orchomenus THE LIFE OF THEOCRITUS — MURRAY 2O9 in Idyl X\'I, 104 f., although plainly a reminiscence of Pindar, has been brought into connection with this. The scholium is corrupt, and has been variously emended according to the sense desired by the individual critic ; and although we may grant that there may have been among the Orchomenian exiles, who found shelter in Cos after the destruction of their city by Thebes in 364, a certain Simichidas (or Simichus), son of Pericles, this offers but a slender basis upon which to build up a theory regarding Theocritus' birth and connections. Some may be willing to go even further, and (since the name of Theocritus' father, Praxagoras, is attested for Cos) assume that the poet's family was of Coan stock ; but there remains as the most probable explanation of the scholium the assumption that the scholiast knew as little as we about the reasons why the name Simichidas was given to Theocritus, and is but groping in the dark in making these statements ; and moreover this assumed Orchomenian connection may after all concern the eteqov tiva and not Theocritus at all. (On this baffling subject reference may be made to Hauler, De Theocriti Vita et Cartnifiibus, 6 f . ; Susemihl, Geschichte der Griechischcn Litteratiir in der Alcxandrinerceit, I 198 A. 6, and Jahrhiicher 1896, 391 ; v. Wila- mowitz, Aratos von Kos, 193 n. 3 ; Legrand, £tude, 47 ff- ! ^"^1 Cholmeley, Introd. 8f.). As to the course of the poet's life we have certain tangible facts deducible with more or less certainty from the poems themselves ; but the sequence of these facts and their relations to one another are matters of debate ; and the dating of the poems from which they are deduced is often problematic in the extreme. As such facts may be mentioned the following: (1) Theocritus sought to win the favor of Hiero II, tyrant of Syracuse, and to find in him a patron (Idyl XVI). This was apparently in 275-4, a date now all but universally accepted. (2) He addressed a similar appeal to Ptolemy II (Idyl XVII). The precise date of this has been a matter of much debate, but Idyl XVII is now generally accepted as being later than Idyl XVI. In any case it antedates 271-0, the date of the death of Arsinoe II. This poem pre- supposes a stay in Alexandria on the part of Theocritus, as do also Idyl XV and the Berenice. The friendship existing between the poet and Callimachus points to the same conclusion. (3) Theocritus visited Cos, more than once, it would appear, and must be assumed to have spent much time there (Idyl VII). Several of the other Idyls are believed to have been written in Cos {e. g. I, II, III, 210 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME VI and others), the quality of the evidence differing in the case of the different Idyls. Idyl VII further proves Theocritus to have been a member of a literary circle, though the identification of the individuals mentioned (under pseudonyms) in the Idyl is most uncertain. (4) That Theocritus studied under PhiUtas,^ the poet-scholar of Cos, is an assumption based upon Idyl VII, and widely accepted in modern times, and plays an important part in modern attempts to recon- struct the life of Theocritus. (5) Theocritus counted among his friends Nicias, a physician of Miletus, and visited him at his home (Idyl XXVIII). Idyls XI and XIII and Epigram VIII are also addressed to Nicias. (6) Another of the friends of Theocritus must be noted, the Aratus of Idyl VII, to whom Idyl VI is also addressed. This Aratus, tradition- ally identified with the astronomer-poet of Soli, the author of the Phaenomena, is now generally believed to have been a Coan, otherwise unknown, whose acquaintance Theocritus had made when visiting Cos. If, however, as the present writer fully believes, the old identification was well grounded, then in reconstructing the course of the life of Theocritus his friendship with Aratus of Soli must be taken into con- sideration. I have elsewhere given my reasons for holding that the years between 274 and 271 cover the period at which this friendship may most probably have been contracted.^ (7) Theocritus appears to have received commissions to write dedi- catory epigrams for statues of Anacreon, Archilochus Pisander, and Epicharmus. This fact may reasonably lead us to the conclusion that he visited Teos, Rhodes, etc. (8) From Idyl XXX, 13, it is evident that Theocritus' literary activity lasted until his hair was flecked with grey. We can with at least a fair approximation to truth fix the date of his birth ; as to the date of his death we have no real evidence. (9) From the poems we may derive certain secondary inferences: 'This spelling of the name (instead of the traditional Philetas) is advocated by Cronert in Hermes, 1902, 42, and has been widely accepted. * See the present writer's articles, The Bucolic Poems of Theocritus (Trans- actions of the American Philological Association, 1907, 125 ff.), and Aratus and Theocritus {Matzke Memorial Volume, 139 ff.). It should in justice be said, how- ever, that my defense of the traditional identification of the .A.ratus of Theocritus with the poet of Soli has met with no acceptance by the scholars who have reviewed the latter of the two above-mentioned papers. See, in particular, Rannow in the Berliner Philologischc Wochcnschrift, 1913, 35-41 ; Sitzler in the Wochenschrift fiir Classichc Philotogie, 1912, 1048-1051 ; Taccone, Gli Idilli di Teocrito, 88 n. i. THK LM-K OF THEOCRITUS — MURRAY 211 that Theocritus took the side of CaUimachus in his famous controversy with Apollonius ; that in writing Idyl VII he was influenced by CaUi- machus' Hymn to Zeus; that he himself strongly influenced Herodas, etc. We may take up first the view — it can hardly be called a tradition — that Theocritus in early life studied at Cos under Philitas. The time is generally assumed to have been 292 circa; and it was formerly held that a group of poets gathered in Cos (including, besides Philitas and Asclepiades, Dosiadas, Leonidas of Tarentum ( ?), Alexander of Aetolia, Nicias, Aratus (?), and Theocritus, and very possibly others), forming a sort of bucolic brotherhood, masquerading in pastoral garb, and calling one another by nicknames (Theocritus e. g. was Simichidas). This view was until recently very widely accepted, and based upon it there grew up a pernicious system of interpreting the bucolic poems of Theo- critus as reflections of this artificial phase of the poet's life, the figures of the pastoral poems being in the most, or even in all, cases regarded merely as disguised poets, and the poems themselves anything rather than transcripts from a fife which could lay claim to reality. The theory that there ever was such a bucolic school has now very generally been given up; but the belief that Theocritus visited the east in the period of his youth or early manhood is still very generally retained. It is enough here to note that the statements in the rita, in Choero- boscus, and in the scholia regarding this assumed period of study under Philitas and Asclepiades are plainly nothing more than inferences based upon the way in which those poets are mentioned in Idyl \TI (I'ita (I)v nvt]|iov6itEi ; schol. 6oxei a.v.ovori]g y^YovEvai), and that no evi- dence can be advanced from any source to prove that it existed except in the fertile imaginations of the scholars, old and new. As for Idyl \TI, it may be stated that it is the only one in which we have any tangible evidence for the existence of this purely artificial sort of pas- toral, — a sort of poetry i. e. in which the pastoral setting is used without any attempt to re-create a really pastoral world, and in which we have a "bucolic masquerade," and not a reflection of real life. Moreover Idyl VII is relatively late, and we naturally derive from it the imjircs- sion that the poet, after making a name by his real pastorals, allowed himself this playful treatment of his literary friendships. In other words. Idyl VII is not typical of the Theocritean pastoral, and it of itself presupposes on the part of the poet's literary circle an acquaint- ance with genuine pastoral verse, — an acquaintance which we may unhesitatingly hold to have been due to Theocritus' own bucolic pieces. (On this whole question reference may be made to the writer's 212 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME paper on The Bucolic Poems of Theocritus, in the Transactions of the American Philological Association, 1907, 125 ff.) We come back now to our original starting point : Theocritus, born in Syracuse (the question as to the approximate date will be touched upon later), addressed a poem to Hiero in 275-4 in the hope of finding a patron in the Syracusan prince. In this he failed ; and in the years immediately following we find him in Egypt, seeking to win the favor of Ptolemy. These dates, 275-4 for Idyl XVI, and 271 circa for Idyl XVII, are virtually the only ones bearing on the poet's life that can be said to be established; and even these have been disputed. Some scholars (Gercke e. g.) have sought to place Idyl XVII earlier than Idyl XVI; but such attempts have been futile. Now what does Idyl XVI reveal to us regarding the poet's develop- ment? Is he a beginner, or has he already become master of his art? Is he unknown, or is his fame already established? More important still, what is the bent of his genius? To these questions varying answers have been given, and the more prudent course is to content oneself with deductions which seem plainly warrantable, and not to seek to prove too much. Idyl XVI is the earliest datable poem in the Theocritean collection ; what impression does it make on an unbiased reader? First we may say that the fame of the author is certainly not estab- lished. He writes with modesty and self-distrust, and as regards the world of letters it may be said that the poem reads like the work of a novice ; but this does not prove that as regards the work of poetic compo- sition the poet is a beginner. On the contrary the poem shows a warmth of poetic feeling, and a power of expression, which produce a strong impression that in these matters the poet has already served his appren- ticeship. Again Idyl XVI is thoroughly steeped in reminiscences of Pindar and Simonides and Bacchylides. The poet is a man of culture and reading. He is not, however, representative of the learned manner of the Alexandrians, nor is there any trace of the influence of Calli- machus e. g. The learned allusion in vss. 104 fif. is plainly suggested by Pindar's frequent references to the Charites as the givers of the grace of song. Another interesting fact must be noted. In this early Idyl, when Theocritus turns to portray the blessings of the peace which Hiero is to establish by driving the Carthaginians from Sicily, his most charac- teristic vein of poetry reveals itself: THE LIFE OF THEOCRITUS — MURRAY 213 dyQW? 6' tgydtfiiyxo TEdaXoTag • at 6' dvdgidnoi jit'iXcuv x^Xidbe^ ^oxd-vq. biojiiavdeioai an jiefeiov {ih^x^'^o, (iJoE; b' dyEh]bbv e; av/.iv iQy6[ievai axviq^aiov EKiojieuftoiEv obitav veioi 6' exjtovEoivTO :ioti okooov, uvixa tetti^ jtoi^iEvuc, EvSioug m(pvKay\ie\oq vi|>6di 6Evb()CL»v dxEi ev dxQE^ovEooiv • dpdxvia 8' slg ojiyw' dgdyyai. Xenid 8iaaTT|oaivTO, Poag 8' eti \ir\b' ovojx' eit]. — rxvi 90 ff.) Surely this is significant. Theocritus, a born Sicilian, not only shows in indubitably authentic poems an acquaintance with and a sympathetic love for the region of Sicily and southern Italy, but in this, his earliest datable poem, we find this love expressed in terms of pastoral life — precisely as in later poems, which are not at all bucolic in theme, we find the same tendency. This is marked in the Hylas e. g. (Idyl XIII) ; see in particular vss. 10 flF., 25 f., 34 f., 39 ff., and compare Idyl XXV, if that be Theocritean. May we not say with practical certainty that we have in this a proof that the surroundings amid which the poet's genius took shape were Sicilian? Surely, if this is so, his first poetic attempts would most naturally seek to interpret this life with its frank realism, but also with its background of beautiful nature and beautiful legend. Whether or not we have in Theocritus' bucolic pieces any work actually composed in this early Sicilian period we cannot say. Reflec- tions of the impressions received during these years we certanly have, even though it be true that the bucolic poems one and all belong to a distinctly later date. For these poems are not, what many scholars would make them, thoroughly artificial compositions in which the life, the loves, and the songs of real herdsmen play no part; but pictures essentially true to life, and above all suggested by life, — a life which the poet knew and the charm of w^hich he felt. This fact I must hold to be completely established, and upon it the interpretation of the Theocritean pastorals should be based, even if we find ourselves forced to admit something of learned allusiveness and of artificiality, or for that matter forced to accept the bucolic masquerade. These things are not the essence of the Theocritean pastorals ; they are extraneous elements which intruded themselves into his later work, and which may well have given rise to the antique criticism of his work as excellent 7ikr\v oXiycav e^coOev. ([Longinus], On the Sublime, 33; see V. Wilamowitz, Aratos von Kos, 192 f.) Yet, strange to say, these same extraneous things have been taken as fundamental by many modem 214 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME interpreters of Theocritus, and the very existence of a genuine pastoral has been denied; as though Theocritus were as unreal and artificial as Pope and Philips and the other pseudo-idyllists of our own literature. Among the extant poems Idyl XI has seemed the one which may with the greatest likelihood be referred to this early period. The theme chosen is thoroughly Sicilian, and the style has been thought to betray the poet's manner before he had attained to the finished elegance of the later poems (so v. Wilamowitz, Aratos von Kos, 183; Textgeschichte, 159; and Susemihl, Jahrhiicher, 1896, 388). Now Idyl XI is addressed to Theocritus' friend, Nicias of Miletus ; so that the problem of chron- ology becomes at once important. If an early poem is addressed to Nicias, must not Theocritus have been in the east during the early years of his life? It is hardly likely that in the years preceding 275 the Milesian would have found occasion to visit Syracuse, The extant poems which bear upon the relation existing between the two men (Idyls XI, XIII, XXVIII, and Epigram VIII) suggest that they were nearly of the same age; that a warm affection and sympathy existed between them; and that this close association lasted long; so that we may think of Theocritus as having been not once only, but often the guest of Nicias and Theugenis in their Milesian home. (On the relations between Theocritus and Nicias see Hauler, 1 1 f . ; von Wilamowitz, Textgeschichte, 159 f.; Susemihl, Jahrhiicher, 1896, 384 f. ; Helm, Hermes, 1894, 161 ff. ; and Jahrbucher, 1897, 389 ff. ; Legrand, Etude, 49 ff.) That they were of about the same age is a natural inference from the way in which Theocritus writes to his friend, and the frankness with which that friend's love affairs are treated in Idyl XI; while in Idyl XIII we have a poetic treatment of the ideal passion of Heracles for the youth Hylas as a passion the like of which both poet and reader had known. Idyl XXVIII may well be the latest of the three (although XIII must be put at least as late as the appearance of the Argonautica of Apollonius), and was written to accompany the gift of a silver distaff sent (or brought) by the poet as a gift to the wife of his friend. This is often assumed to date from 274 circa, and is held to prove that when going to the east at that time Theocritus went at once to Miletus to the house of his friend. For this there is not a shadow of evidence. The poem leads rather to the belief that at the time it was written Theocritus had long known Theugenis as well as Nicias, and that this was not his first visit to their home. Epigram VIII cannot be dated. It is ordinarily assumed that Theocritus and Nicias became friends THE LIFE OF THEOCRITUS — MURRAY 215 during the period of the former's student Hfe in Cos (i. e. circa 295). The view that there ever was such a period of study under Philitas has already been touched upon and discarded for lack of evidence. There is really no evidence to show that Theocritus was ever in the east until he turned thither after his repulse by Iliero, unless this friendship with Nicias compels us to assume this ; and it will be seen that this is not the case. We must first ask ourselves how old Theocritus was in 275-4. Scholars have as a rule been inclined to fix the date of his birth at 315 circa, on which assumption he would have reached the age of forty at the time of his approach to Hiero ; and as it is commonly assumed that his truly productive period falls at least ten or fifteen years later than that, we find ourselves face to face with a very real problem. The Greek men of letters were as a rule not precocious, but it is hard indeed to believe that Theocritus began so late in life. There seems therefore good reason to follow the suggestion of Helm (Jahrbiicher, 1897, 389 fif.) that the date of Theocritus' birth should be brought down to 305 or possibly even to 300. On this assumption the tone of Idyl XVI finds complete explanation, and the fact that the poet's truly productive period falls some years later need cause no surprise. We return now to Nicias. The facts of his life are very obscure, and the two statements which have come down to us (that he was (yuH(poiTT]xrig of Erasistratus, and that he was court physician to Seleucus in 294 circa, — traditions which can hardly be brought into harmony with one another, and of which scholars accept, now the former, now the latter) may both be without value for the determination of the date of his birth ; and there remains no real evidence which prevents our assum- ing that he was born at approximately the same time as Theocritus. Now, if Theocritus was aged about twenty-five or thirty when he turned eastward in 274, and if he then met Nicias in Cos or elsewhere, all is in accord, and there is no reason whatever to see in this friendship a ground for assuming that Theocritus had at a still earlier period spent consid- erable time in the eastern world. The only point requiring further consideration is the character of Idyl XI and the supposed early date suggested by this. This evidence is not conclusive, and not all will attach as much weight to metrical evidence, as establishing the date at which a given poem was written, as v. Wilamowitz does. Susemihl e. g. (Jahrbiicher, 1896, 388), while he accepts the conclusion, denies the validity of the grounds on which it is based; i. e. he accepts the early date of Idyl XI 2l6 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME without evidence, because this view falls in well with the theory he has formed regarding the course of the life of Theocritus. I am myself inclined to accept the early date of the composition of Idyl XI without regard to theories. The theme (the amorous Cyclops) is thoroughly Sicilian; and to my mind it may be regarded as certain that the young poet in his Sicilian home had written not one, but many such pieces. Idyl XVI, as we have seen, reveals a poet who, while yet unknown, has none the less learned his art : he must already have tried his hand at many a piece of composition. Now, since Idyl XVI shows plainly the "bucoHc" bent of his genius, and since the pastoral element in real life must have met his eyes constantly in Sicily and southern Italy, we must hold that it is wholly probable that these early compositions would be largely in a bucolic vein. When the poet left Sicily for the larger world he may have carried with him many such early pieces; and if we are right in assuming that he at this time met Nicias and became warmly attached to him, what unlikelihood is there in the assumption that he took one of these early poems and addressed it to his friend, adapting it to his end by prefixing a few dedicatory lines, in which he alludes playfully to his friend's profession (Nicias was, as has been stated, a doctor), and by adding a couple of lines at the end? This of course does not admit of proof ; but it seems a wholly natural assumption. I maintain therefore that the style of Idyl XI, taken in connection with the fact that it was dedicated to Nicias, by no means compels the conclusion that Theocritus had been in the east before he went thither after his repulse by Hiero. Neither do the literary friendships revealed by Idyl VII compel it; and, as has been stated above, the view that Theocritus was a student in Cos during the lifetime of Philitas has now been very generally abandoned for lack of evidence. We hold, there- fore, to the view outlined above ; and find in the influences surrounding Theocritus during his early life in his Sicilian home the explanation of the character of his poetry, even though that poetry was for the most part written later in life and in the eastern world. Theocritus then turned eastward for the first time in 274 or there- abouts, a man rather under than over thirty, and one who had as yet won no fame as a man of letters. He may well have been attracted to Cos by the fame of the island as a literary centre, and may have remained there two or three years. There he presumably met Nicias, and contracted with him the friendship which lasted so long. There he met also, in all probability, Aratus of Soli, who may be assumed to have visited Cos on his way from Macedonia to Syria, whither he THE LIFE OF THEOCRITUS — MURRAY 21/ appears to have gone after the Uterary circle, which had gathered around Antigonus Gonatas at Pella, was broken up by the return of Pyrrhus from Italy in 274. Here in Cos, Theocritus must be assumed to have entered upon a Ufe of Uterary activity and of association with men of letters, with some at least of whom he contracted the friendships be- trayed for us by Idyl VII; for under the pseudonyms occuring in that poem we may well believe that there lie hidden the names of men famous in that day in the world of letters. The problem of penetrating these disguises, while naturally a fascinating one, is, however, baffling in the extreme, and certainty is not to be attained. From Cos, sometime before 271-0 Theocritus went to Alexandria, the brilliant capital of the Ptolemies. Here he must have made a some- what prolonged stay. He first addressed to Ptolemy an elaborate eulogy (Idyl XVII) whereby he evidently sought to win the royal favor,— and, it would appear, not without success. Here also he must have written the brilliant Adoniasiisae (Idyl XV), which gives a vivid picture of life in the great capital, and which is in a sense a companion piece to Idyl XVII, giving to the queen, Arsinoe, in her turn her due meed of praise. Further, during this stay in Alexandria Theocritus became the frend of Callimachus. Indeed even Idyl XVII seems to show clear traces of the latter poet's influence, and to have been modeled upon his Hymn to Zens. This friendship must have been a lasting one, for Idyls VII and XIII, both distinctly later in date than Idyl XVII, show Theocritus a staunch adherent of Callimachus in his controversy with Apollonius. After this somewhat protracted stay in Egypt, Theocritus must be assumed to have returned to Cos. Whether or not he had for any reason lost the favor of the king (as is assumed by Gercke) cannot be stated. It may well be that he was merely weary of the artificial life in the great capital; but in any case the evidence that the poems afford leads us once more to Cos. To this period we must refer the composition of Idyl XIV, which as v. Wilamowitz has acutely pointed out, must be put after a visit to Egypt, the characterization of Ptolemy contained in vss. 55 ff. seems so clearly based upon personal knowledge. The passage also leaves with one a strong impression that Theocritus' relations with Ptolemy had been such as to preclude Gercke's assumption of a break between the two. Here in Cos falls the truly productive period of the poet's life. He had served his apprenticeship in the earlier period in Sicily, quick, we may believe, to respond to the beautiful scenes around him : he had since 2l8 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME then passed through the hard school of disappointment, and had later had his horizon broadened by travel and by association with men of letters and men of the v^orld. Sure now of himself and of his art, he writes in his own peculiar vein, with a vivid sympathy with the pastoral life which he knew and loved so well; with his native dramatic touch, which vivifies the whole and makes it real ; with an inimitable sense for language, and a feeling for the pathos of common things ; above all with a sure restraint, and with that clearness of outhne which have marked him as the last of the Greeks in the world of letters. From this period and from Cos date probably the majority of the poems upon which his fame rests. The Coan origin of Idyls II and VII is indisputable; Idyl I is commonly believed to have been written in Cos, but the evidence is not entirely conclusive. Still the poem plainly belongs to the poet's mature period, and it should be borne in mind that Sicilian coloring does not of itself prove a poem to have been written in Sicily, though it does offer a presumptive ground for thinking that the poet's genius developed under Sicilian influences. Idyl V must be put later than Idyl I, from which it borrows a verse ; but it is of interest that, although he is writing in this artificial eastern world, Theocritus lays the scene of the Idyl in southern Italy. Is it possible that this Idyl too is based upon some sketch begun in the early Sicilian period? Idyl III is on doubtful grounds con- nected with Cos ; and Idyl IV, on equally doubtful grounds, is held to be later in date than Idyl III. We may well feel justified in referring these poems to this second Coan period ; but it is surely better in the case of these and others regarding which we lack evidence, not to seek to prove too much. Idyl VI is later than the date at which the friendship between Theocritus and Aratus was contracted, and Idyl X is plainly to be asso- ciated with Lydia, whence the Lityerses song comes. This points natur- ally to the eastern world, though it no more proves the poem to have been written in Lydia than the Thyrsis song in Idyl I proves that poem to have been written in Sicily. The epic Idyls, the genuineness of which may be accepted, — Hylas, Dioscuri, Heracliscus (XIII, XXII, XXIV), with XXV, if that be Theocritean — may well all be late. Hylas is certainly later than the publication of the Argonautica of Apollonius, and so is also Idyl VII in all probability. For although Idyl VII looks back to a happy day spent in Cos on the occasion of the poet's first visit to the island, it was written at a distinctly later date, and brings with it the flavor of that later date. We cannot trace the course of the poet's life further. His poetic THE LIFE OF THEOCRITUS — MURRAY 219 activity lasted until his hair was grey (Idyl XXX), but we have no trustworthy tradition regarding these later years of his life, or regarding the date of his death. The dedicatory epigrams suggest, if they do not prove, that the communities of Teos and Rhodes e.g. employed Theocritus to prepare these for statues publicly dedicated. It is of interest to see in the epigram on Epicharmus a slight evidence that the people of his own city gave the poet at least thus much of recognition. This last fact should not however be advanced as proof that Theocri- tus again visited Sicily. Such a conclusion is not warranted, nor were conditions in Sicily such as to attract him. Yet despite this, and despite Theocritus' long sojourn in the east,— despite the fact that the pastorals, in their present form at least, date from the period of the poet's mature life, and were written in that learned and artificial eastern world. — it remains true that we owe the poet, and we owe his pastorals, to Sicily. For without that sympathetic first-hand knowledge of nature and of life which the poet himself owed to the fact that his boyhood and early manhood were spent in that fair land, they would not, and could not have been written. THE DECAY OF GERMAN LITERATURE IN THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY Karl G. Rendtorff THK I'KRioD from 1 170 to 1230 marks a climax in the development of German culture. It was the era of the great emperors of the Hohenstaufen dynasty, the age of chivalry; it was the time when Germanic epic poetry found its culmination in the Nibelungenlied ; when the court epic reached its height in the works of Hartmann von der Aue, Wolfram von Eschenbach, and Gottfried von Strassburg; when the Minnesong flourished and found its loftiest expression in the exquisite songs of Walther von der Vogelweide. In fact, the freshness and strength, the imagination and idealism, the productiveness and perfect technique which characterize the works of this period have caused it to be known as "the first classical period of German literature." This period came to an abrupt end about the year 1230, and with it the development of German literature received a sudden check. After all this wealth of imagination and vigorous literary activity there followed a period lasting almost three centuries, the characteristic features of which are shallow conventionality and sterility. This stagnation cannot possibly be mistaken for a natural reaction which we sometimes observe after a time of great literary productiveness, a period of hibernation so to speak, — it was too complete for that and of too long duration. It was a total standstill. If we were to represent the development of German literature graphically, the period after 1230 should be indicated not by a downward curve but by an abrupt drop. This complete break in the continuity of German literary thought and life has, of course, not failed to attract the attention of the scholars. Yet in most cases they have been satisfied with noting the fact ; and, considering the importance of the phenomenon, comparatively little has been offered by way of explanation. And what little there is does not seem convincing. ' After the acceptance of this paper for the Fliigel Memorial Volume, which was expected to appear in September, 1915. Dr. Jordan requested its author's per- mission to reprint the paper in his "War and the Breed." Owing to unforeseen delays in passing the present volume through the press, its appearance here was anticipated by the recent publication of Dr. Jordan's book. DECAY OF (JKKMAN LITERATURE — RENDTORFF 221 We have, in the main, two theories diametrically opposed to each other. Schcrer (Geschxchte dcr dcutschcn Lxtteratur, \). 231 ) holds that the natural ^'rowth of Middle ilif^di-dcrman poetry was thwarted by an external force, the church, at a time when it had not yet exhausted its resources and was capable of devclo])ment alon^ many lines. "Middle iiigh-German poetry," he arj^ues, "did not decay from within, but was deprived of light and air from without ; the old enemy of secular jKjetry, the German clergy, commenced with redoubled lunver a new attack which was this time successful and decisive for a long period." This theory meets with an emphatic denial in Bartels' Geschxchte dcr dexitschcn Lit- tcratur, vol. I, p. 56. liartels believes that chivalrous i)oetry died from natural causes at a time when it had completely outlived itself; and he attributes this decay to the fact "that the time was not yet ripe for a revival of literature by realism or by an intelligent imitation of the classi- cal models of antiquity." It should be stated here that both Scherer and Bartels have contented themselves with merely presenting a theory, making no attempt to prove it. And it should also be stated that both of them, at least in this connec- tion, take into consideration the literary development of Germany only, paying no attention to the political and economic conditions of the time. Modern science has taught us the futility of trying to solve problems while confining ourselves to the narrow limitations of one particular field of work. A solution of this problem can only come from a study of its connection with the develojiment of German civilization as a whole. We cannot separate the literary life of a people from its religious, politi- cal, and economic life; we are unable to interpret the literature of a I)Cople unless we know the i)hysical, intellectual, and spiritual conditions which i)roduced it. What then was the social and intellectual background for the poetry of this period? German literature of the so-called "first classical period" cannot be called the genuine expression of the soul-life of the German people, for it was confined almost exclusively to one class of the people: it was writ- ten by and for the small body of knights, der Ritterstand. It was a Standcsf'ocsic, — the literary expression of the sentiments of one exclusive class, knighthood, — the product of a culture in which only a compara- tively small group of the nation participated. The predominating position held by the knights in the literary life of the thirteenth century is a startling phenomenon. There is something incongruous about the fact that the exponents of the warlike life of the 222 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME nation should be the only ones to voice the poetic and literary sentiments of the people. This fact can be accounted for only when we realize that the Ritter stand of that time really represented the pick and flower of the German nation, not only physically but intellectually as well, l-'or the Ritterstand had not yet become the exclusive nobility into which it de- veloped in later times. It still was open to any freeman or even serf who had conspicuously distinguished himself by deeds of physical courage or by his mental powers. This is not the place for a comprehensive or critical study of the rather obscure origin of knighthood. Yet I wish to point to a few facts regarding the history of knighthood that may help to prove my assertion that it was the pick of the nation. Feudal aristocracy of the middle ages was the natural result of two leading classes of the people growing into one; one of them conspicuous because of its intelligence and adminis- trative ability, the other one distinguished by its energy and physical prowess. The first class consisted of the so-called "ministeriales," a body of retainers about the person of the king, attending to the royal serv- ice in high and low positions. Because of their official position and their ability, they soon gained a leading part in the life of the nation. They are the forerunners of what still exist in Germany as Beamtenaristokratie ; they still play a predominant part in the social and political life of Ger- many. The second are the r'lter, mounted troopers who devoted their life to professional warfare; who came into existence as a class about the tenth century, at a time when the old German army, fighting on foot, and consisting of every freeborn German who could bear arms, came to be supplanted by an army of trained soldiers fighting on horseback. These knights were the old freeholders, but after about 1150 their ever decreas- ing number was supplemented by serfs who had won distinction by their courage. Both of these groups were alike in that they received fiefs in payment of their services ; and so, in the course of time, they were welded into one. They formed the Ritterstand with its peculiar Standcskultur and, as has already been stated, with a Standespoesie of their own. They developed their own code of honor, their Standeschre; and they were supported by a high-strung self -consciousness and a firm belief in their own value, their Standesbezintsstscin. And yet they were not altogether cut off from the nation as a whole. Many of them had still recently risen from the masses, and the simple emotions that swayed the man of the common people still appealed to them. Of course, it is not to be assumed that all talent and genius of the nation was confined to this one class ; but owing to the social conditions of the time, it was here only that the medi- DECAY f)F (JKKMAN LITERATURE — RENDTORFF 223 eval German man liad opportunity for culture and freei'rium and impcjorarc (Miroir dc Manage, 8816, and Balade MLXIII) : £t la bonne [sc. fcmmc] par leur parler Font ilz (sc. les menestrelz, etc.) bicn en Tcmpirc aler. Alez tuit du regne en Tempire ; on froid and the abbey of Froidevaux (M. dc M. 8865) : Puis qu'il y a seigneur sanz dame, L'en treuve hostel de Froitvaulx. Puns and other word-plays arc not uncommon in Old French. Ciautier dc Coincy puns on Marie, tnarier; Chretien de Troyes and Tliomas on amcr, I'amer, la mer; the latter on Tristan, tristour, etc. Cf. Schinz. Publ. Mod. LanR. Assoc. XXII, 514 fF., and Warren, Mod. Pliilol. III. 516-7, 526. wlio refer to other cases. ' Prol. 460-1. ll'iihoutcn, generally meaning 'without, means as well as, besides, except, not to mention, in Troilus and Criseyde. II. 236; Havclok, 425 (E. E. T. S.) ; Piers Plowman, B-tcxt, XIV. 237; Lajamon's "Brut," 26213, 26215. The Wife's prototype in Lc Roman de la Rose (13369, Marteau's edition) had had "autre compaignie," but perhaps she herself had not (ll'.B.P. 4ff.). 2^0 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME By substituting finesse for coarse bluntness puns allow much worse innuendo ; there is a case near the end of the Shipman's Tale, several in the Reeve's Tale, and one toward the middle of the Sumner's (containing a striking piece of dramatic irony). More decorously, when the Friar with jocular pomposity has been chafifing the Wife of Bath,* — This is a long preamble of a tale!' (IV. B. P. 831), the Sumner ridicules his academic language, 'What spekestow of preambulacioun ? What! amble or trot or pees or go sit doun !' (837-8). The Friar has his come-back with another pun : 'For thogh this Sumnour wood were as an hare, To telle his harlotrye I wol nat spare' (Fri. T. 1327-8).^° Most of the puns in Chaucer are mere pieces of vivacious humor, usually unforeseen, lightly snapped up as they drop. The Clerk has a library of philosophy, but little of the gold which should accrue to the philosopher in the cant sense of alchemist (Prol. 297-8), But al be that he was a philosophre, Yet hadde he but litel gold in cofifre." In Troilus and Criseyde there are a couple of casual jingles (the first being the only play on a name that I have noticed) : ^^ •We should expect a cheery understanding between these two. She is just such a "worthy woman of the town" as he is "well beloved and familiar" with (cf. Prol. 215-7, 459). The two were made for eachother, as Mr. Percy MacKaye saw, in his Canterbury Pilgrims. "In fourteenth-century English, needless to say, har- was pronounced iden- tically in the two words. Unless a pun were intended, harlotrye, usually meaning scurrility or profligacy, was hardly the word in the connection, though the Sumner is called a harlvt (or rascal) in Prol. 647. This seems, by the way, the earliest case of "as mad as a (March) hare"; the Oxford Dictionary cites nothing earlier than 1529, and Bartlett's Familiar Quotations nothing earlier than Skelton's Rel>li- cation against Certain Young Scholars (1. 35, soon after 1518). " Skeat notes this pun and that below from .Sq. T. : "such puns are not common in Chaucer," he says. He may also be right in seeing one in Cook's T. 4402; see Munimenta Gildhallce London (Rolls Ser. 1860-2), III, 180-2. "I ignore the interpretations of St. Cecilia's name (Sec. N. Prol., 85-119), where the word-play of Brother Jacobus' Latin is lost in Chaucer's translation. PUNS IN CHAUCER — TATUJCK 2^1 So whan this Calkas knew by calculinge, And eek by answere of this Appollo (I. 71-2); O ^^od of love in sooth we serven bothe. And, for the love of god, my lady free, ^(says Diomed to Criseyde, v. 143-4)- As the Cook claws the Reeve on his back in tipsy joy over his tale, he cries, 'This miller hadde a sharp conclusioun Upon his argument of herbergage' (Cook's Prol. 4328-9), semi-scientific language,— 'a sharp experiment on the subject of giving lodgings,' — a 'tough proposition," in our similar vernacular; but he is thinking also of the cruel ending of the experience. The Squire dis- claims rhetorical skill in quoting the ambassador from the king of Araby and Ind, — Al-be-it that I can nat soune his style, Ne can nat climben over so heigh a style (Sq. T. 105-6)." The Canon's Yeoman has lost the bright eyes of youth poring over smoky fires and stinking retorts among the alchemists, but his rueful joke refers as much to having been bamboozled out of his own and other people's money, — And of my swink yet blered is myn ye (1. 730).^* The most elaborate punning is in the Complaint to his Empty Purse: " More distinctly a pun than most other identical or punning rhymes, not un- common in Chaucer and medieval poetry generally, cultivated by one school of mod- ern French poets, but prohibited in modern English poetry, except the definitely comic. Though in Chaucer an identical rhyme is supposed to be used in different senses or at least as a different part of speech, or (if a suffix) is attached to a different word, there are numerous cases in the Man of Laiv's Talc of complete identity in sense as well as sound. These are, — to telle, I telle (408. 411) ; that . . . woot, god woot (436, 439) ; in this wyse, in no wyse (793. 796) ; I tolde, he him tolde (^77, 880) ; dryving ay. blessed be she ay (947. 95o). The matter is not noticed by ten Brink {Chancers Sprachc u. I'crskunst, ^330), whose treatment of the sub- ject of rhyme is very incomplete. Chaucer, who was far from following Longfellow's exhortation to work as well both when unseen and when seen, simply put the dubious rhymes as far apart as possible, shunning instead of courting notice, as in the Sq. T. passage. Such rhymes occur elsewhere also. "The last phrase of course means fooled (cf. Rene's Prol. 3865, Reeve's T. 4049, Mane. T. 252). 232 FLUGEL MEMORIAL VOLUME To you, my purse, and to non other wight Compleyne I, for ye be my lady dere! I am so sory now that ye be Ught ; For certes, but ye make me hevy chere, Me were as leef be leyd upon my here. His purse is his lady, naturally he would not have her light; but how astonishing that a courtly lover should wish the green grass growing over him unless she made him heavy cheer! The most delightful and the most natural pun in Chaucer is among the professional glibnesses of the Sumner's friar. Dearer to God are the prayers, says he, of the abstemious mendicant than those of the gluttonous laity: Tro Paradys first, if I shal nat lye, Was man out chaced for his glotonye ; And chaast was man in Paradys, certeyn' (Sumn. T. 1915-7). Chased out, and chaste in, what a beautiful thought! Of course the friar does not know he is punning, it is merely the way his mind works. One often hears modern priests zigzag along in the same desultory course, at the mercy of casual association.^^ " A pun involves two completely separate meanings, not meanings which shade into each other. Therefore there are no such puns as a modern might suspect where flattering Placebo {Merch. T. 1513-5) congratulates poor old January on the high spirit he shows in choosing a young wife,— "it is an heigh corage" ; or where it is said of the Sumner, In daunger hadde he at his owne gyse The yonge girles of the diocyse, And knew hir counseil, and was al hir reed {Prol. 663-5). Power, power to harm, liability to be harmed, shade into each other, and the last meaning is somewhat modern. In danger the young people truly were, but the dan- ger was not from him. When one remembers over what cases the church courts had jurisdiction (cf. Fri. T. 1302), and the devious methods of the sumners (Prol. 649 flF., Fri. T. 1323 ff.), it is clear that this worthy spied out young men and women between whom scandal was brewing and then levied blackmail on them. But some- thing like a pun may possibly underlie one of the chief cruxes of the Prologue (1. 670) ; why "gentle Pardoner of Rouncivaf'f Skeat's answer (that he was con- nected with the Hospital of the Blessed Mary of Rouncyvalle near Charing Cross) is unlikely, if not impossible. Rouncival in the sixteenth century meant a mannish woman, and the Pardoner is a womanish man (688 ff.). Routicy means a riding horse, and the Pardoner is called "a gelding or a mare." The passages are not close together, so I feel no confidence in this suggestion. But there may be some such forgotten point. ^ i, DATE DUE 3 1205 02644 5070 UCSOi/rwct.. ... ^^ 000 LiTy ^26 720