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Full text of "The Journal of English and Germanic philology"

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THE JOURNAL OF 
ENGLISH AND GERMANIC 
PHILOLOGY c. I 



FOUNDED BY 

GUSTAF E. KARSTEN 



MANAGING EDITOR 
JULIUS GOEBEL, UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 

ASSOCIATE EDITORS 

H. S. V. JONES AND G. T. FLOM 
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 



CO-OPERATING EDITORS 

HERMANN COLLITZ, JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSITY 
GEORGE O. CURME, NORTHWESTERN UNIVERSITY 
WILLIAM W. LAWRENCE, COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY 
CLARK S. NORTHUP, CORNELL UNIVERSITY 



oo 



'S. 23 

VOLUME XI 

1912 



PUBLISHED QUARTERLY BY THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
URBANA, ILL., U. S. A. 



/y 



17 



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Cht Collfgiirtt 

GEORGE BANTA PUBLISHING COMPANY 
MENASHA, WISCONSIN 







TABLE OF CONTENTS 



ARTICLES 

E. Prokosch, Forchhammers Akzenttheorie und die Germanische 

Lautverschiebung 1 

George O. Curme, A History of the English Relative Constructions . . 10 
Anna E. Miller, Die erste deutsche ttbersetzung von Shakespeares 

"Romeo and Juliet" 30 

Lee M. Hollander, The Gautland Cycle of Sagas, 1 61 

Frederick Tupper, Jr., Notes on Old English Poems 82 . 

R. S. Forsythe, ShadwelFs Contributions to She Stoops to Con- 
quer and to the Tender Husband 104 

F. W. C. Lieder, Friedrich Spe and the ThSodicee of Leibniz 149 

T. Diekhoff, The So-called Prospective or Anticipatory Subjunc- 
tive in Gothic 173 

George O. Curme, A History of the English Relative Constructions 180 
George B. Lovell, Peculiarities of Verb-Position in Grimmelshausen . 205 

Lee M. Hollander, The Gautland Cycle of Sagas, II 209 

Clark S. Northup, On the Bibliography of Shakespeare 218 

Mary L. Hunt, Geffray Mynshul and Thomas Dekker 231 

Frank W. Cady, The Wakefleld Group in Towneley 244 

Francis A. Wood, Kontaminationsbildungen und haplologische 

Mischformen 295 

F. W. C. Lieder, Friedrich Spe and the Theodicee of Leibniz 329 

George O. Curme, A History of the English Relative Constructions 355 

Alfred M. Sturtevant, Olaf Liljekrans and Ibsen's Later Works 381 

Arthur J. Tieje, The Expressed Aim of the Long Prose Fiction 

from 1579 to 1740 402 " 

Joseph Q. Adams, Jr., Peter Hausted's The Rivall Friends 433 

Ernst Voss, Aus den Schatzen der herzoglichen Bibliothek in 

Wolfenbiittel 501 

Paul E. Titsworth, The Attitude of Goethe and Schiller toward 

the French Classic Drama 509 

Harold H. Bender, 'A^O Kotvou m Gudrun 565 

Gudmund Schiitte, The Geats of Beowulf 574 

John Edwin Wells, Henry Fielding and the History of Charles XII. 603 



REVIEWS 
C. von Klenze, Paul Bastier's La Nouvelle Individualiste en Alle- 

magne 112 

W. A. Oldfather, L. Zurlinden's Gedanken Platons in der deutschen 

Romantik 119 

C. von Klenze, Volkmann's Wilhelm Busch der Poet and Win- 

ther's Wilhelm Busch als Dichter . 126 



A. H. Upham, The Cambridge History of English Literature, Vols. 

Ill and IV 128 

J. F. A. Pyre, F. C. Brown's Elkanah Settle 135 

H. M. Belden, Just's Die Romantische Bewegung in der Amerika- 

nischen Literatur 138 

Laurence M. Larson, Fritz Roeder's ttber die Erziehung der vor- 

nehmen Angelsachsischen Jugend 141 

J. A. C. Hildner, Seidel's Storms Briefe an Eggers and Her- 
mann's Storms Lyrik 263 

Leonard Bloomfield, Braunes Althochdeutsche Grammatik 269 

F. C. Becker, W. Jerusalem's Introduction to Philosophy 274 

Fr. Klaeber, A. S. Cook's Concordance to Beowulf 277 

Victor O. Freeburg, Henrik Schiick's Folknamnet Geatas i den 

Fornengelska dikten Beowulf 279 

George T. Flora, Axel Kock's Svensk Ljudhistoria 283 

Robert Adger Law, A. C. Dunstan's Examination of Two English 

Dramas 286 

R. E. Neil Dodge, Carrie A. Harper's The Sources of the British 

Chronicle History in Spenser's Faerie Queene 289 

J. F. Sievers, Louise Wolfs Elisabeth Rowe in Deutschland 451 

Ernst Voss, J. Hartmann's Das Verhaltnis von H. Sachs zur sog. 

Steinhowelschen Decameroniibersetzung 464 

F. N. Jones, Souvageol's Petrarka in der deutschen Lyrik des 

XVII Jahrhunderts 468 

A. H. Upham, D. H. Miles's The Influence of Moli&re on Restora- 
tion Comedy 471 

C. R. Baskervill, The Cambridge History of English Literature, 

Vols. V and VI 476 

Victor O. Freeburg, Henrik Schiick's Studier i Beowulf sagan 488 

Robert A. Law, A. I. P. Wood's The Stage History of Shake- 
speare's King Richard III 497 

Ernst Voss, C. von Kraus's Mittelhochdeutsches Uebungsbuch 614 

Louise M. Kueffner, Strich's Die Mythologie in der deutschen Lite- 
ratur von Klopstock bis Wagner 615 

Leonard Bloomfield, A. D. Sheffield's Grammar and Thinking: 

A Study of the Working Concepts in Syntax 619 

George H. McKnight, Uno Lindelof s Elements of the History of 

the English Language 624 

A. J. Tieje, Wilhelm Dibelius's Englische Romankunst und Char- 

lotte E. Morgan's The Rise of the Novel of Manners 626 

Herbert Le Sourd Creek, R. H. Griffith's Sir Perceval of Galles: 

A Study of the Sources of the Legend 635 

H. S. V. Jones, Studies in English and Comparative Literature 638 

B. H. Bode, J. E. Boodin's Truth and Reality 640 



NOTES 

George L. Hamilton, The Latin Historia Assenech 143 

Otto Heller, The Critical Edition of Charles Sealsfield's Works 144 

H. N. MacCracken, The Source of the Story of Asneth 291 

Frederick Tupper, Jr., "Commendation" in the Wanderer 292 



FORCHHAMMERS AKZENTTHEORIE UND DIE GER- 
MANISCHE LAUTVERSCHIEBUNG. 

1. Dasz Verstarkung des Atemdruckes die physiologische 
Ursache der germanischen Lautverschiebung 1st, ist langst 
erkannt worden, und eine Kette immer klarerer Darstellung 
zieht sich. von Raumer (Die Aspiration und die Lautverschie- 
bung, Leipzig 1837) iiber Scherer (GddS. 90ff), Paul, Zur 
Lautverschiebung (Btr. I 147 ff) und Krauter (Zur Lautver- 
schiebung, Straszburg 1877) bis auf Hans Meyer (ZfdA 45, 
101 f). Hans Meyer stellt wohl einen ursachlichen Zusam- 
menhang zwischen den einzelnen Akten der Lautverschiebung 
im engeren Sinne fest, sieht sich aber noch genotigt, Verners 
Gesetz und die germanische Tenuisgemination von dersel- 
ben zu trennen. Diese Trennung ist unvermeidlich, solange 
angenommen wird, dasz Ursache des expiratorischen Akzentes 
verschiedener Druck der Atmungsorgane sei. Mit Verners 
Gesetz und der germanischen Tenuisgemination fallen 
auch Sievers Gesetz iiber die Behandlung von germanisch gw, 
sowie Holtzmanns Gesetz iiber die Verscharfung von nach- 
tonigem .;, w nicht nur auszerhalb des Rahmens der Lautver- 
schiebung, sondern sie geraten mit derselben in direkten "Wi- 
dersprueh; bei starkem Kontrast in der Druckstarke zweier 
benachbarter Silben miiszte man auch Druekverstarkung des 
Konsonanten in der starkeren, Druckschwachung des Kon- 
sonanten in der schwacheren Silbe erwarten, wie unten zu 
erklaren sein wird. Verners eigene phonetische Erklarung 
seines Gesetzes befriedigt nicht. Nach ihm ist der geringere 
Expirationsdruck charakteristisch fiir den stimmhaften Kon- 
sonanten, sodasz cfyd zu a5a wurde ; wenn dagegen der Haupt- 
ton vorausgehe, gereiche der groszere Expirationsdruck dem 
Konsonanten zum Schutz, sodasz d]>a erhalten bliebe. Diese 
Erklarung wiirde ein Gesetz geschlossener Silben im Germani- 
schen voraussetzen, wahrend in der Tat das Germanische fast 
wie das Slavische zur Trennung nach offenen Silben neigt 
(vgl. Sievers, Btr. XVI, 262 f ) ; in ctya aber kann der Atem- 
druck der ersten Silbe dem folgenden ]> nicht zum Schutz ge- 



2 Prokosch 

reichen; in a-6d (oder etwa '-aSa) dagegen konnte der folgende 
Haupt- oder Nebenton wohl einen Einflusz auf den Konsonan- 
ten ausiiben. 

2. Nun hat vor nicht langer Zeit Forchhammer eine neue 
Akzenttheorie aufgestellt (Tidskrift for dofstumskolan 1896), 
die ich nach Jespersen, Lehrbuch der Phonetik, S. 115, zi- 
tiere : 

"1st es wirklich der Druck der Atmungsorgans, auf dem 
die verschiedene Starke der Silben beruht? Davon ist man 
bisher ausgegangen. . . . Nach ihm (Forchhammer) be- 
ruht das Wesentliche auf der Grosze der Stimmritze. Laszt 
uns einen Versuch machen: wir gehen von der geschlossenen 
Stimmritze aus und nahern uns langsam der offenen Stellung 
(s. 2 oder s 3). Wir werden dann finden, dasz die kraftigste 
Stimme der geschlossenen Stellung am nachsten liegt, und dasz 
die Stimme darauf schwacher wird, wahrend gleichzeitig der 
Luftverbrauch groszer wird. Also erhalten wir starke Stimme 
bei geringem Luftverbrauch and schwache Stimme bei groszem 
Luftverbrauch. Wir konnen mit der kraftigsten Stimme 
einen Vokal wie a gerade gegen ein angeziindets Licht sin- 
gen, ohne dasz die Flamme im mindesten flackert, wahrend wir 
umgekehrt mit einer schwachen, aber lufterfiillten Stimme 
sehr leicht das Licht ganz ausloschen konnen. In Wirklich- 
keit kann man eine schwache Stimme auf zweierlei Weisen 
erhalten, entweder durch Verminderung der Ausatmungs- 
kraft oder durch Vergroszerung des Abstandes zwischen den 
Stimmbandern ; aber die Wirkung bleibt nicht dieselbe; im 
ersteren Falle ist die Stimme, wenn auch noch so schwach, 
doch verhaltnismaszig klangvoll, wie sie denn auch wegen des 
geringen Luftverbrauch.es lange ausgezogen werden kann; 
diese Art eignet sich daher besonders fur den Gesang, wo es 
auch feste Regel ist, dasz Piano mit Hilfe der Atmung gebildet 
werden soil, wenn dies auch so grosze Schwierigkeiten in sich 
schlieszt,dasz ein beherrschtes Piano etwas vom Schwersten ist, 
das es gibt. Im anderen Falle ist die Stimme klangloser, 
deutlich als lufterfiillt zu horen, wie sie denn auch wegen des 
Luftverbrauchs verhaltnismaszig rasch verbraucht wird. Dies 
ist jedoch gewisz die Art und Weise, die wir in der Rede bei 
"unbetonten Silben" benutzen, da sie die leichtere ist. Kann 



Forchhammers Akzenttheorie und die Lautverschiebung 3 

man sich iiberhaupt denken, dasz em so schneller Wechsel 
zwischen starken und schwachen Silben, wie wir ihn in der 
Sprache haben, wirklich mit dem groszen, schweren Atmungs- 
apparat vollzogen wird, wenn man einen so leichten und leicht 
beweglichen Apparat wie die Stimmbander hat? (Die Ak- 
zentuierung geht mit ihrer Hilfe "so leicht vor sich, dasz 
schon eine Bewegung von ich glaube sagen zu konnen, hoch- 
stens 1 mm hinreichend ist, urn von der starksten zur schwach- 
sten Stimme iiberzugehen.") Was ist nun die physische Er- 
klarung dafiir, das die Stimmbander, wenn sie einander nahe 
stehen, einen kraftigeren Ton erzeugen, als wenn sie etwas 
entfernt sind? Der Atemstrom beruht darauf, dasz groszerer 
Luftdruck in den Lungenblaschen ist als drauszen in der 
atmospharischen Luft; wenn wir uns eine Messung der Luft 
wahrend des Ausstromens der Luft aus der Lunge durch den 
Mund denken konnten, wiirden wir sehen, wie sich der Druck 
allmahlich verliert. Ist der Luftweg frei, so wird die Ver- 
anderung selbstredend ziemlich ebenmaszig vor sich gehen ; ist 
aber der Luftweg an einer Stelle stark eingeengt, so wird 
nach physischen Gesetzen der Druck sich so verteilen, dasz 
die groszte Druckdifferenz auf beiden Seiten der Einengung 
sich befindet, und wird an einer Stelle vollstandiger Verschlusz 
gebildet, so sammelt sich die ganze Druckdifferenz hier. Je 
groszer die Annaherung zwischen den Stimmbandern ist, desto 
groszere Druckdifferenz wird zwischen der Luft iiber und un- 
ter ihnen bestehen ; das ist aber gerade die Bedingung fur die 
kraftigeren Schwingungen, den starkeren Ton. 

Wir konnen jetzt vielleicht als abgemacht betrachten : Der 
Unterschied zwischen "stark" und "schwach" kann zuwege 
gebracht werden mit Hilfe von: 

1. Starkerer und schwacherer Ausatmung; dies Mittel 
wird (am besten) beim Gesang verwandt; auszerhalb des Ge- 
sanges kommt es nur subsidiar zur Verwendung, wo man, wie 
beim Rufen oder bei starker Emphase, alle Mittel benutzen 
will, um etwas besonders horbar zu machen; 

2. Groszerer oder geringerer Annaherung der beiden 
Stimmbander; dies ist das normale Mittel bei gewohnlicher 
Rede, wo die Unannehmlichkeit, dasz ein Teil der Luft ver- 
loren geht, und dasz der Klang asthetisch nicht so ansprechend 



4 Prokosch 

wird, nicht die Vorteile bedeutend groszerer Einfachheit 
aufwiegt. Die deutlichste Empfindung der " Murmelstimme " 
erhalt man vielleicht, wenn man auf den Unterschied zwisehen 
zwei aufeinanderfolgenden, sonst gleichen Vokalen achtet, 
von denen der erste schwach, der zweite stark ist, wie in 
danisch var du udef engl. the East, besonders so wie sie in 
schneller natiirlicher Rede lauten." 

Dies stimmt, wie auch Forchhammer in einer folgenden 
Nummer der Taubstummenzeitschrift bemerkt (Jespersen 1. 
e. 117, Anm.) teilweise mit dem iiberein, was Sievers in seiner 
Phonetik (S. 29) iiber die Murmelstimme sagt, "nur dasz 
Sievers in der Murmelstimme ein Nebenphanomen sieht, das 
oft die Sehwachung der Silbe begleitet, welehe, wie er glaubt, 
auf schwachem Ausatmen beruht, wahrend F. in der Murmel- 
stimme, d. h. in einem vergroszerten Abstand zwisehen den 
Stimmbandern die Ursache fiir die Unbetontheit der Silbe 
sieht. ' ' Sievers sagt I.e.: " Von der Vollstimme unterscheidet 
sich die Murmelstimme insbesondere dadurch, dasz die Stimm- 
bander infolge zu weiterStellung und zu geringen Stromdrucks 
nur schwach und unvollkommen ansprechen, der Stimme also 
Fluster- und Hauchgerausche beigemischt werden, welehe 
die beim Murmeln entweichende Nebenluft hervorbringt. Sie 
kann vermutlich durch beliebig schlaffe Artikulation des 
Kehlkopfes erzeugt werden, vielleicht aber ist fiir sie typisch 
die zuerst von Czermak beobachtete Bildungsweise, dasz die 
Knorpelglottis geoffnet bleibt." 

3. ftbertragen wir diese Theorie auf die germanische 
Lautverschiebung, so wird dadurch natiirlich an derErklarung 
der ersten drei Akte (t > th > }>, dh > 8, d > t) nichts We- 
sentliches geandert, da diese vom Akzent unabhangig sind. 
Nicht zu iibersehen aber ist ein Prinzip, das mit F.s Theorie 
immerhin in engem Zusammenhang steht: die Verstarkung 
des Expirationsdruckes hat zwei Folgen: einerseits als di- 
rekte Folge die Neigung, einen vorhandenen Verschlusz im 
Ansatzrohr zu sprengen; das fiihrt vor allem zur starkeren 
Aspirierung der Tenues und dann zu ihrem tibergang in Spi- 
ranten, indem ein starker Atemstrom aus der geoffneten Glottis 
dringt undBildung einer Enge statt einesVerschlusses bewirkt ; 
ahnlich entsteht ft aus dh : der schwachere Luf tstrom, der aus 



Forchhammers Akzenttheorie und die Lautverschiebung 5 

der verengerten Glottis dringt, geniigt, den an sich lockeren 
Verschlusz einer aspirierten Media zu sprengen. Andrerseits 
aber ist eine indirekte Folge eine der verstarkten Expiration 
entgegenwirkende Verstarkung der Muskelspannung in Zunge 
oder Lippen. Der im Verhaltnis zu dli festere Verschlusz des 
d wird durch den stimmhaften, also schwachen Atemstrom 
nicht gesprengt; die Muskelspannung der Zunge verstarkt 
sich vielmehr, und dies fiihrt, als Riickwirkung, zur Offnung 
der Glottis, sodasz t entsteht; ein anderes Ergebnis der ver- 
starkten Muskelspannung sehen wir spater in der nicht mehr 
zur eigentlichen Lautverschiebung gehorenden Entwicklung 
der stimmhaften Spirans zum stimmhaften Verschluszlaut ; 
auch hier wirkt dem in gleicher Starke fortwirkenden Expi- 
rationsdruck die daraus resultierende starkere Muskelspan- 
nung entgegen, bis sich Verschlusz bildet. Die zweite Laut- 
verschiebung bietet darin ein etwas anderes, zum Teil recht 
buntes Bild, das in einem spateren Artikel zu besprechen sein 
wird. 

Schematisch stellen sich also, mit Jespersens Bezeichnung, 
die drei Hauptakte der ersten Verschiebung folgendermaszen 
dar; als Beispiel sind, wie durch wegs, die Dentale gewahlt, e 
bezeichnet die Stimmbander, (3 Zungenspitze und Zungenblatt, 
steht fiir Verschlusz, d. h. keine Offnung, 1 fur Enge, 2 fiir 
weitere, 3 fiir weiteste Offnung; der Unterschied zwischen 
Spalt und Rille kann fiir die gegenwartigen Zweeke vernach- 
lassigt werden ; steht fiir Ruhelage. 

1. t >th >J? 2. dh > 8 3. d > t 

e3 c3 e3 el el el c3 

00 00 + 0,, 02 00 + 0,, 02 00 00 

Da die Zahlen die natiirlich rein symbolisch, nicht mathe- 
matisch aufzufassen sind die Grosze der Ausfluszoffnung fiir 
den Atemstrom bezeichnen, ist in ihnen die besprochene Ver- 
starkung klar angegeben: t > J? entspricht einem "Wachsen 
von 3 zu 5, dh zu 8 einem solchen von 1 zu 3, und d zu t zeigt 
dasselbe Verhaltnis; leider laszt sich die Muskelspannung kaum 
in ahnlicher Weise graphisch darstellen. 

4. Die vom Akzent abhangigen Konsonantenveranderun- 
gen des Germanischen lassen sich durch blosze Annahme star- 
ken Expirationsdruckes nicht erklaren. Vielmehr miiszte man 



6 ProJcosch 

daraus, solange man Druckakzent annimmt, auf einen gerade 
entgegengesetzten Prozess schlieszen. Nicht a-]>d, sondern d\>a 
wiirde a5a ergeben ; nicht $w' sondern '$w miiszte zu w werden 
(s. u.) ; in gleicher Weise miiszten wir dja statt djja erwarten. 
und schlieszlich wiirde die germanische Tenuisgemination 
eher vor unbetonter als vor betonter Silbe eintreten. Jede 
Erklarung, die geringeren statt starkeren Expirationsdruckes 
in diesen Lautveranderungen fordert, zieht einen scharfen 
Schnitt durch die gesamte germanische Konsonantenentwick- 
lung, der durch nichts zu rechtfertigen ist und chronologisch 
mehrfach auf "Widerspruch stoszt. Die notwendige logische 
Forderung ist die: zuerst trat Verstarkung des Expirations- 
druckes ein; t wurde zu J?, dh zu 6, d zu t als unmittelbare 
oder mittelbare Folge, wie oben behandelt. Dann aber hatte 
aus irgendwelchen Grunden eine gegenteilige Tendenz wirken 
miissen denn man kann doch nicht gut annehmen, dasz zwei 
entgegengesetzte Tendenzen zur gleichen Zeit geherrscht hat- 
ten und diese hatte es moglich machen miissen, dasz unter 
Umstanden (die Abhangigkeit vom Akzent laszt sich dabei 
phonetisch kaum rechtfertigen) J? zu 8 und %w zu w wurde, 
und dasz ajd blieb, wahrend djja eintrat. Die germanische 
Tenuisgemination brauchte zwar an sich mit diesem neuen 
Prinzip nichts zu tun zu haben, dennoch aber bedeutet sie die 
groszten chronologischen Schwierigkeiten, da sie vor d > t, 
also noch zur Zeit der alten Tendenz, eintreten muszte, jedoch 
dieser bei Annahme eines Druckakzentes klar widerspricht. 

5. Verners Gesetz stellt sich nun bei Annahme der Forch- 
hammer'schen Theorie folgendermaszen dar: germanische 
stimmlose Spiranten (zum kleineren Teile vielleicht auch Ver- 
schluszlaute) neigen im allgemeinen zur Assimilierung an um- 
gebende stimmhafte Laute; sie werden in solcher Umgebung 
selbt stimmhaft; vergleiche die Behandlung von intersonan- 
tischer stimmloser Spirans im Alt-englischen, Alt-nordischen, 
Alt-sachsischen (die sich noch im norddeutschen -s- = -z- 
fortsetzt). Diese Assimilation trat unbeschrankt ein, wenn 
der Akzent (Hauptton, Nebenton oder vielleicht Pausa) folg- 
te: cfyd > afid; die Silbentrennung war a-)?a; die erste Silbe 
wurde mit e 2 oder ahnlich (Murmelstimme, Halbstimme), al- 
so mit teilweise offener Glottis, gesprochen; beim Einsatz der 



Forchhammers Akzenttheorie und die Lautverschiebung 7 

Tonsilbe aber wurde die Glottis verengt und stimmhafte 
Spirans gebildet. Begann das ]> dagegen eine tonlose Silbe, 
so erfolgte die fur die Tonlosigkeit erforderliche Glottisoff- 
nung (e 2 bis e 3) schon beim Silbeneinsatz, und blieb 
erhalten, bzw. entwickelte sich aus t, th. Die Glottisb'ff- 
nung el oder e2 (s3) beginnt sofort mit dem Einsatz der 
neuen Silbe, sodasz a-8d ein e2 -f- el, dagegen dlpa ein si 
-f- e2 darstellt. Personliche Experimente sind iiberzeugend, 
besonders wenn man die Tonlosigkeit der einen Silbe gegen- 
iiber der sehr stark betonten anderen Silbe recht hervorhebt ; 
er wird einem dann schwer, 6$a oder a]>d sprechen, und als 
Ursache der Schwierigkeit fuhlt man die Silbentrennung aufs 
deutlichste. 

Tonlosigkeit der vorhergehenden, nicht Betonung der fol- 
genden Silbe ist als eigentlicher Grund allgemein anerkannt, 
und dies steht mit der gegebenen Erklarung nicht im Wider- 
spruche, wenn man sich gegenwartig halt, dasz die Stimmhaf- 
tigkeit des Spiranten in stimmhafter Umgebung das Normale, 
Stimmlosigkeit das erst durch den Ubergang von der unbeton- 
ten zur betonten Silbe bedingte Abnormale ist. Ich will indes 
nicht leugnen, dasz ich die haufige Bequemlichkeitszitierung 
des Verner'schen Gesetzes, als vom Akzent der "folgenden" 
Silbe abhangig nicht fiir ganz ausgemacht falsch halte. Stimm- 
hafte Spirans im Auslaut (z. B. im nom. sg, masc. der o-Stam- 
me) konnte Sandhi-form, dagegen die nicht ganz verstand- 
liche stimmlose Spirans im gen. sg. das Lautgesetzliche sein. 
Davon bei anderer Gelegenheit. 

6. Zu dieser Erklarung von Verners Gesetz ist Annahme 
starken Expirationsdruckes zwar keine conditio sine qua non 
(ausgenommen insoweit als sie zur Erklarung der Spiranten 
iiberhaupt notwendig ist), aber sie steht damit in keiner 
Weise im Widerspruch. Erforderlich indes ist sie zur Er- 
klarung von Holtzmanns Gesetz, wonach Halbvokal nach stark- 
tonigem kurzem Vokal "verscharft" (gedehnt) wird, was 
dann imGotischen undNordischen weiter zu einer Art Affricata 
aus palatalem, bzw. velarem Verschluszlaut und der entspre- 
chenden Spirans fiihrt : 'i > j > j j > d'd'j ; 'u > w > ww 
> ggw. Der Grund ist in der aus starkem Expirationsdruck 
resultierenden Muskelspannung zu suchen; ebenso wie dh > 



8 Prokosch 

5 > d wird, d. h. dem Atemstrom ein immer kraftigeres Hin- 
dernis entgegengestellt wird, so wird aus einer lockeren (wei- 
ten) Spirans (Jespersens Offnung 3) eine immermehr ver- 
scharfte Spirans (Offnung 2 bis 1) und endlich ein Verschlusz- 
laut, der ja im Nordischen schlieszlich das spirantische Ele- 
ment verlieren kann. 

Bei Annahme von Druckakzent ist das nur zu verstehen, 
wenn die Silbe, die starkeren Druck fordert, folgt, aber nicht, 
wenn sie vorausgeht, denn die vorausgesetzte Muskelspanmmg 
ist nur beim Ubergang zu starkerem Druck erklarlich. Nach 
Forchhammers Theorie dagegen wiirden die Verhaltnisse so 
liegen, dasz in der ersten (betonten) Silbe dem starken Atem- 
druck die verengerte Glottis entgegentritt ; beim Ubergang zur 
Stimmbanderoffnung ist zweierlei moglich : die Dehnung der 
ersten Silbe, die wir im Westgermanischen finden, oder die 
Hervorhebung der Silbentrennung durch einen festeren Ver- 
schlusz (eben die Riickwirkung der Muskelspannung), wie im 
Gotischen und Nordischen. In dieser interessanten Doppel- 
heit der Entwicklung liegt nicht ein wirklicher Kontrast, son- 
dern nur zwei verschiedene Phasen der gleichen Tendenz ; im 
ersteren Falle wird der starke, aber durch Glottisenge gehin- 
derte Atemstrom durch langeres Ausstromen geschwacht, im 
zweiten Falle tritt ihm die Reaktion der Muskelspannung ent- 
gegen. Das Prinzip der ersteren Erscheinung ist dasselbe, das 
Vereinfachung von Doppelkonsonanten nach langem Vokal 
fordert: wie ein starker Atemstrom kraftigen Verschlusz be- 
wirkt, so bewirkt ein durch Dehnung geschwachter Atemstrom 
Schwachung oder Kiirzung des Verschlusses ; vom Standpunkt 
der Muskelspannung ist beides im Grunde das Gleiche. 

Das Verhaltnis dieses Vorganges zu Verners Gesetz ist dem 
zwischen d > t und t > J? zu vergleichen ; t > J? und Verners 
Gesetz beruhen auf Expirationsdruck, d > t und Holtzmanns 
Gesetz auf der daraus resultierenden Muskelspannung. 

7. Genau dementsprechend liegen die Verhaltnisse bei 
Sievers' Gesetz (an dem ich trotz Streitberg, U. G. 112, Anm. 
2, festhalte). Nach diesem wird gw, soweit es nicht durch 
kombinatorischen Lautwandel entlabialisiert war, zu w, falls 
der Akzent folgte. Dies ist lediglich der umgekehrte Fall zu 
dem im vorigen Abschnitt dargestellten, gewissermaszen die 



Forchhammers Akzenttheorie und die Lautverschiebung 9 

Probe aufs Exempel, und bedarf daher einer weiteren Be- 
sprechung nicht, die nur das oben Gesagte wiederholen konn- 
te. Eine einigermaszen sichere Entscheidung zwischen dieser 
Auffassung der Behandlung von %w und der Streitberg 'schen 
(an der durchaus nichts Unmogliches 1st) wird allerdings nur 
auf Grund einer genauen Untersuchung der in jedem Falle 
anzunehmenden Analogiebildungen moglich sein. 

8. Die gerraanische Tenuisgemination ist nach Ver- 
ners Gesetz eingetreten, ist aber vor der Verwandlung von 
Media zu Tenuis anzusetzen, gehort also noch zur Lautver- 
schiebung und ist den gleichen phonetischen Tendenzen un- 
terworfen. Sie ist denn auch den beiden eben behandelten 
Lautgruppen analog. Die Gruppen tSn, dn werden zu den 
weniger Widerstand bietenden assimilierten Gruppen 86, 
dd (im weiteren Verlauf,bei Verstarkung derMuskelspannung 
zu tt) ; das oben Gesagte, wonach ohne Forchhammers Akzent- 
theorie diese Entwickelung eher bei vorausgehendem als bei 
folgenden Akzent anzunehmen ware, gilt auch hier, sodasz t5n 
> tt sich nur mit Hilfe dieser Theorie verstehen laszt. 

9. Die Annahme, dasz dynamischer Ton von der Grosze der 
Glottisoffnung, nicht von der Starke des Atemstroms, abhangt, 
lost also die Schwierigkeiten, die einer einheitlichen Erkla- 
rung der Lautverschiebung sonst im Wege stehen. Ohne diese 
Annahme musz man fur sie zwei einander entgegengesetzte 
phonetische Tendenzen anerkennen, die einander ablosten, und 
man gerat dabei in unentwirrbare chronologische Wider- 
spriiche. 

University of Wisconsin. E. PROKOSCH. 



10 Curme 



A HISTORY OF THE ENGLISH RELATIVE CON- 
STRUCTIONS. 

This treatise has not been written by a specialist in Eng- 
lish with exclusive reference to English development, but it 
is the work of one more familiar with comparative linguistic 
studies. In Vol. X, pp. 335-354 of THE JOURNAL, the writer 
has already outlined the general course of the development 
of the relative constructions in the different Germanic lan- 
guages. There also English was treated. Even at that time 
the writer was conscious that his sketch of the English devel- 
opment was very incomplete and promised a fuller treatment 
later of the so-called omission of the relative. In his mind, 
however, also a number of other important questions had 
arisen and soon clamored for solution. Has the French in- 
fluenced the English development as much as some German 
scholars claim? For years doubts with regard to some of 
these claims so confidently made would not be downed and 
gave the mind little rest until the resolution came to approach 
these questions a little closer. Little by little it became appar- 
ent that the whole development would have to be taken up 
again in detail as important additional facts had come to 
light in the course of the inquiry. Renewed study of the 
German growth also brought out new facts, which moreover 
illumine the English development. 

In his work on this subject the writer used freely all the 
investigations of English and continental scholars and was 
thankful for the many happy suggestions he found. Not- 
withstanding the abundance of grammatical material offered 
in the many treatises and the manifold notes and glossaries in 
the special editions of English authors the writer has felt it 
his bounden duty to read the English authors themselves. He 
has read almost the entire printed literature up to A. D. 1450 
and the principal works between that date and 1600. True 
ideas of English grammar can only be obtained from live Eng- 
lish as found in the living language, or as preserved in printed 
documents or manuscripts. The conceptions of lexicographers 



A History of the English Relative Constructions 11 

and grammarians are often at variance with each other and are 
often fundamentally wrong. Grammarians only too often 
treat important linguistic questions under the impression of 
preconceived ideas which have no basis in actual usage. Others 
try to solve difficult language problems logically without the 
necessary historical perspective. The vision of an editor of a 
special text is often also so hemmed in by the narrow bound- 
aries of the particular dialect which he is studying that the 
general view is shut off. The student of language must al- 
ways keep close to the actual records of speech and see that 
they are arranged according to the order of the time and 
place of their origin. It was often necessary for the writer 
to gallop thru extended stretches of literature. The read- 
ing of so many books was often very superficial and yet the 
writer has considerable confidence in his results. As he dashed 
thru these books he kept his eyes fixed upon certain gram- 
matical constructions and noticed how they varied in the dif- 
ferent centuries and the different parts of England. He left 
minor details to one side and kept constantly in view the main 
lines of the development. 

There is no lack of detailed grammatical treatises of par- 
ticular dialects, but we really need more of these hurried 
glances thru the different English dialects. The way 
seemed not unfrequently long and dreary when the atten- 
tion was turned to the ideas of the authors themselves so large- 
ly theological and so often foreign to the thought of our own 
time, but it became full of intense interest when it became 
apparent from the study of these plain popular dialects that 
there was gradually forming a simple but strong and beau- 
tiful language which was destined to spread over a great por- 
tion of the earth. Anglo-Saxon, the literary language of the 
South, had, after the Norman conquest, gradually yielded to 
French and Latin. The native language, however, was not 
entirely abandoned for literary purposes. It gradually re- 
turned to favor until about 1250 it had gained the ascendency. 
There was, however, nothing which might be called a literary 
language that was widely recognized as a standard. The 
writers in the different parts of England now employed their 
native local speech. These dialects were all very different 



12 Curme 

and yet were very much alike. Scholars have emphasized too 
much their differences. No one of these dialects was destined to 
supplant the others. The South did not gain such a decided 
victory over the North as in Germany. Northern usage in 
many important features gradually spread to the South. 
Scholars have emphasized too much the influence of the South 
and especially the Midland, and put too much stress upon the 
importance of the great writers such as Chaucer. The plain, 
terse, cogent English of the common people of the North was 
to leave its imprint upon the final form of the language that 
was too emerge from these dialects as the speech of England 
and a large part of the world. It was a great delight to the 
writer to watch the gradual spread of northern terseness and 
it has been to him a great pleasure to bring this vital character 
of English speech into connection with his theme of the Eng- 
lish relative constructions, especially as first developed in 
the North. 

The plain directness so characteristic of the English race 
manifests itself quite clearly in one of the oldest construc- 
tions of the English language the so-called omission of the 
relative pronoun. The origin of this construction is not Eng- 
lish, but Germanic or rather Indo-Germanic. While other 
peoples have discarded this old usage for finer and more in- 
tricate instruments of thought the English people has in 
large measure retained it in accordance with its natural trend 
to plain directness. There is in fact here no omission of a 
relative at all, but if anything is omitted it is a personal pro- 
noun: "Here's a gentlewoman [,she] denies all" (Shakspere's 
M. f. M. 5. 1. 282) . "I have a bag of money here [,it] troubles 
me" (id. Merry W. of W. 2. 2. 179). The omission of the per- 
sonal pronouns as indicated in the square brackets is very 
common in the older periods of the language, not only in 
such sentences but in general there was a tendency to with- 
hold the personal pronouns as they were not felt as necessary 
to the thought. In each of these sentences from Shakspere the 
construction is asyndetic, i. e. is without a connective, two 
propositions lie side by side without a formal connecting link, 
and yet the second proposition modifies in a certain sense the 
preceding proposition. Where as here the connection is loose 



A History of the English Relative Constructions 13 

the construction is called parataxis, i. e. arranging side by 
side. Often the connection is very close so that the second 
proposition is evidently subordinate to the first: "You are 
one of those [,they] would have him wed again" (id. "W. T. 
5. 1. 23). "This is the man [,] I seek [him] " (id. "Troilus," 
5. 8. 10). "Where is this cup [,] I call'd for [it]?" (id. 
Anth. a. Cleop. 2. 7. 59). Where as here the connection is 
close the construction is called hypotaxis. The distinction lies 
in the thought, there is no distinction in the form. In each 
case two propositions lie side by side. Modern feeling inclines 
to a formal expression for the hypotactical relation and in- 
serts relative pronouns here and naturally interprets the omis- 
sions in the old syndetic hypotactical construction in accord- 
ance with modern usage and says that the omitted pronouns 
here are not "they," "him," "it," but "who," "whom," 
"that." In the earliest period, however, relative pronouns 
had not yet been created and of course could not be used and 
hence could not be supplied in thought. The expression 
"omission of the relative" is in the strict sense quite inac- 
curate. Originallly, as we have seen, the two propositions 
lay side by side without any formal connecting link. The con- 
text alone suggested the degree of the closeness of the con- 
nection. 

In the course of the later development relative pronouns 
gradually became established in usage to indicate the subor- 
dination and by a choice between these pronouns the connec- 
tion could be indicated as loose or close, as for example "that" 
may indicate a close connection and "who" a loose relation. 
A still looser relation may be denoted by the use of a per- 
sonal pronoun in the second proposition : ' ' There is a man at 
the door who wants to see you," or still looser: "There is a 
man at the door, he wants to see you." While the degree of 
closeness cannot always even now be denoted accurately 
the frequent attempts to denote the degree of closeness by 
the choice of the proper relative indicate the trend of modern 
thought to find a formal expression for fine distinctions of 
thought. The older language was more simple but often si 
the same time more terse and forceful. The English people 
have appreciated the force of the older construction and still 



14 Curme 

often employ it. There has, however, from the very beginning 
of the historic period been a strong prejudice against it. It 
was considered by the learned Anglo-Saxon writers as less 
fine than distinct pronominal forms such as they found in 
Latin with which they were all intimately acquainted. Thus 
we find very little of it in the oldest documents that have 
come down to us, for this oldest literature was under strong 
Latin influence. The forceful old construction, however, sud- 
denly appeared in wide use when the popular dialects began to 
be used after the Norman conquest. It had probably been 
alive throughout the oldest period but had not been employed 
in the literary language. This is shown by the fact that it 
frequently occurs in the Lindisfarne Glosses written about 
A. D. 950 at Durham. The author of these glosses was a 
northerner and glossed the Latin Gospels in his native North- 
umbrian. Likewise it was alive in all the English dialects. 
At the beginning of the fourteenth century northern writers 
in and around Durham used the construction with great free- 
dom much as we find it later in Shakspere. The Durham 
writers played the most important part in the literature of the 
first half of the fourteenth century and little by little as we 
shall see later certain features in the dialects of the North 
found favor further to the South. The recognition of our 
oldest relative construction was not so general in the south 
as the use of some other northern features. It is not quite 
true, however, that this oldest relative construction was a 
northern feature. It was probably well known in every dia- 
lect, for the writer has found cases in the speech of every sec- 
|j_ tion of England, but i was not a form that was generally 

recognized in the written language. Literary recognition came 
first in the North. Slowly but gradually it became established 
in the South. The writer can offer no reason why the North 
first made literary use of this construction. He rejects Pro- 
fessor Jespersen's new theory of Danish influence on the 
grounds that the construction is first found in the Lindisfarne 
Glosses where there seem to be no traces of Danish influence, 
while it is very rare in Orrmulum (about A. D. 1200) where 
there are evident signs of Danish influence. The North also in 
other respects first broke away from old literary tradition. 



A History of the English Relative Constructions 15 

It does not seem possible to ascribe this strong northern in- 
fluence to any great political influence exerted by Durham, 
nor to the influence of the Durham writers. Durham was in 
the fourteenth century an important center, but it does not 
seem plausible to explain the spread of northern speech in 
this way. Northern English was the first to throw off the 
old declensions and to shorten words. There was there a 
marked tendency to monosyllabic form, which is today a prom-, 
inent characteristic of the English language. The terseness 
of the North found a sympathetic hearing among the imme- 
diate neighbors to the South, for similar tendencies were 
also developing there. The literary documents in the Mid- 
land show that the literary language there gradually aband- 
oned its older and longer forms for shorter and simpler ones. 
At the same time we can notice the spread of the terse 
asyndetic relative construction. The general tendency of the 
North toward terseness spread to the Midland and from there 
passed to the South. This general tendency found in general 
little favor with Chaucer, for here as elsewhere Chaucer did 
not reflect popular usage. Chaucer instead of crystalizing 
English usage retarded it. He was not in full sympathy with 
the simple and terse English which was used in the North 
and probably in a much more limited extent and modified form 
also employed by plain folk in his own native town. It was, 
however, this simple and terse language that was destined 
finally to carry the day. The present literary language is 
traceable to the speech of London, which was originally south- 
ern in character and later was gradually in its essential fea- 
tures conformed to the midland type and still later was in 
large measure influenced by the simpler tendencies of the 
North. This trend toward simplicity reached in a number of 
respects its fullest and most complete expression in Shak- 
spere. Since his time the old asyndetic relative construction 
has lost a good deal of its former favor in literature and even 
in colloquial language has much narrower boundaries than in 
the sixteenth century. In the nominative relation it is now 
rarely heard. We occasionally hear it in certain expressions : 
"There is a man at the door wants to see you." In a well- 
known floral guide are the words: "Here's a book will tell 



16 Curme 

you how to select." The following sentence we must read 
several times before we understand it: "Those men blush 
not in actions blacker than the night will shun no course to 
keep them from the light. " (Shakspere's "Pericl. 1, 1, 135). It 
is evident that in the nominative relation this construction is 
often ambiguous or unclear. Perspicuity is the highest law 
of language and it is manifest that in the nominative relation 
this construction is doomed. Shakespere was often willing 
to assume the risk of unclearness to attain the terseness and 
forcefulness of the old construction. In reading his dramas 
we have often felt that modern English character has lost 
its former dash in the personal expression of its inner life. In 
the accusative relation, on the other hand, this construction 
still has wide boundaries, much wider, however, in colloquial 
speech than in the literary language. The old prejudice 
against this construction has survived. Little narrow-minded 
grammarians and school-teachers who have no knowledge of 
the historical development here and little insight into linguis- 
tic principles are still at their old work of limiting the use 
of this construction. These little fellows only know the little 
rules they have learned in their school-books. It is very sad 
but true that coming generations will learn in large part their 
English, not from Shakspere, but from the little wights who 
guard so faithfully their little rules. It is quite clear where 
we are drifting, but the writer desires to turn the attention 
away from the future to the past, to the earliest forms of this 
old asyndetic construction and then later follow the develop- 
ment of the different relative pronouns. 

In order to get a clear idea of the asyndetic relative con- 
struction and the later development of the relative pronouns 
it is necessary to begin the study in the oldest period where 
the forms are inflected and the case relations are perfectly 
clear. Unfortunately the simplest asyndetic form is little 
used in Anglo-Saxon. As it is helpful to see this original 
form in actual language illustrations are given from the 
kindred German Avhich will throw full light upon the English 
development. Later the few traces of this construction in 
Anglo-Saxon will be given. 



A History of the English Relative Constructions 17 

As in both parataxis and hypotaxis the two propositions 
of a sentence often lie side by side without any formal con- 
necting link; the closeness of the connection in the thought 
alone distinguishes the two forms of statement. The distinc- 
tion is often very slight. Thus in ' ' Mit sehn gewan er kiiende 
/erbuwens lands, hiez Ascalun" (Wolfram's "Parzival," 
398.22-3) "He caught sight of an inhabited place which was 
called Ascalon. ' ' We can assume that the connection between 
the propositions is rather loose as we can easily pause after 
the first proposition and then begin a new sentence, while in 
"Wir gewunn ein wurz heizt trachonte" (ib. 483.6) "We 
found a plant which is called dragon wort" the connection 
seems a trifle closer, as the indefinite article in spite of its 
name often has a slight shade of definiteness. It sometimes 
even has almost the force of a definite article: "Wer was 
ein man lac vorme gral?" (ib. 501.20 "Who was the man 
who lay before the Grail?", literally "Who was a certain 
man?, [he] lay before the Grail." It is usually difficult in 
sentences which thus contain an indefinite article to draw 
a sharp line between parataxis and hypotaxis as there is no 
formal distinction between the constructions. Hypotaxis is 
usually indicated by the employment of the definite article 
and in this way differentiates itself in form from parataxis: 
"Der mochte mich ergetzen niht des maers mir iwer munt 
vergiht" (ib. 476, 17-18") "It (i. e. the Graij, couldn't divert 
my mind from the sad story (which) you have just related to 
me," literally "it couldn't divert my mind from the sad 
story, your mouth relates [it] to me." The definite article 
which is a weak demonstrative points to the following asyn- 
detic relative clause. There is often as here an omitted personal 
pronoun in the subordinate clause. The omission brings the two 
propositions closer together and is a primitive step in the 
direction of a formal expression for the hypotactical relation. 
The omitted personal pronoun here is "es," the genitive object 
of "vergiht." It can also be in the nominative or any other 
case : ' ' Dechein sul stuont dar unde / diu sich geglichen kunde 
der grozen sul da zwischen stuont" (ib. 589.29) "No column 
stood there that could be compared to the large column that 
stood in the middle." The omitted personal pronoun in the 



18 Curme 

subordinate clause is "siu" it, the subject of the second 
"stuont." The well-known grammarian Hermann Wunder- 
lich has failed to see the real situation here as he has stated 
on page 285 of "Der deutsche Satzbau" that the omitted 
pronoun is always in the accusative or some other oblique case 
in hypotaxis and is in the nominative only in parataxis. 

The definite article may also follow the governing noun 
when it is the antecedent : " Do sageter Parzivale danc / prises 
des erwarp sin hant" (ib. 156, 12-13) "He then thanked Par- 
zival for the honor (which) he had won," literally "Then he 
thanked Parzival for honor, that one, his hand had won [it]." 
The position of the definite article or rather demonstrative 
"des" here is very important, for the relative pronoun "der" 
developed in just such sentences. The demonstrative stands at 
the end of the first proposition and points to the following asyn- 
detic relative clause. The article can precede the antecedent 
and the demonstrative may follow it: "Thie furiston this 
[=thie iz] gisahun, es harto hintarquamun " (Otfrid, IV. 4. 
71) "The high priests who saw it were sore afraid," literally 
"The high priests, those, [they] saw it, were sore afraid." 
Both the definite article and the demonstrative "thie" point 
as with hands to the following asyndetic relative clause" 
[they] saw it." Of course the personal pronoun "they" does 
not actually occur in the sentence, for as we have seen above 
it was usually omitted in the subordinate clause. It is here 
assumed that the "thie" contained in "thiz" is still a demon- 
strative, but this is not certain. It may already have been 
felt as a relative pronoun, for it is a nominative and may 
be the subject of the relative clause, but on the other hand it 
may also be construed as demonstrative belonging to "furis- 
ton" and placed at the end of the principal proposition that 
it may point to the following clause. No formal criterion can 
settle the question. In the preceding sentence from Wolfram 
the corresponding form, the genitive "des," is beyond doubt 
a demonstrative, for the construction in the following subor- 
dinate clause requires an accusative, not a genitive. Thus we 
can often distinguish whether the construction is demonstra- 
tive or relative by the case form. Originally the construction 
was always demonstrative. As the case form demanded by 



A History of the English Relative Constructions 19 

the main proposition was often as in the sentence from Otfrid 
the same as that required in the subordinate clause it was often 
doubtful to which proposition the demonstrative belonged. 
Gradually under the influence of Latin models the demonstra- 
tive passed from the main proposition to the subordinate 
clause and became a relative pronoun. 

In the preceding paragraph the asnydetic relative clauses 
modified nouns, but they might also restrict demonstratives: 
"Gott hiiete al der ich laze hie." (Wolfram's "Parzival," 
324.29) "May God protect all those I leave here." It is per- 
fectly clear that "der" is a demonstrative, the genitive object 
of the very "hiiete. " Also here it is not correct to speak of the 
omission of a relative. It is again a personal pronoun that is 
omitted: "May God protect all those, I leave [them] here." 
The omission of the personal pronoun is still the rule in Eng- 
lish asyndetic hypotaxis, which thus preserves a very ancient 
type of sentence. In such sentences as: "Ich bin ouch der 
in nie gesach" (ib. 751.2) "I am also one who has never seen 
him" the form "der" may belong to either the principal pro- 
position or the subordinate clause. Just as after nouns it 
gradually came to be felt as belonging to the subordinate 
clause and thus developed into a real relative pronoun. 

Just as in the case of a noun antecedent where there were 
often two demonstratives, one before the noun in the form of 
the definite article and one at the end of the proposition point- 
ing to the following clause there was also in the case of a 
demonstrative antecedent often a repetition of the demonstra- 
tive: "Ni intwirkit worold ellu thes wiht, thes ih thir zellu" 
(Otfrid II. 12.20) "The whole world will not disprove any 
of these things, these things (that) I shall tell you." Here the 
construction is still demonstrative. This repetition of the 
demonstrative is the origin of the so called correlative con- 
struction. Originally the demonstrative was repeated as it 
was needed at the end of the proposition to point to the fol- 
lowing asyndetic relative clause. In course of time the second 
demonstrative lost much of its originally strong stress and 
glided over into the following clause as a relative correlative 
to the antecedent demonstrative: "Ni ward ther than tho 
funtan, der wolti widarstantan " (Otfrid II. 11.27) "No one 



20 Curme 

was found there who would resist," originally "That one was 
not found there, that one, [he] would resist." In Otfrid's 
sentence it is not sure whether the construction is relative or a 
demonstrative as the ease form of the second demonstrative 
would admit of either interpretation. In course of time, 
however, it was felt as relative. This double demonstrative 
became a very productive new relative type. In the older 
periods the single demonstrative type was more common than 
the double form but later the singular demonstrative form 
was almost entirely replaced by the new double or correlative 
type. 

In the single demonstrative type described in the para- 
graph just before the preceding one there were two quite dif- 
ferent forms. In the first form the demonstrative stands in 
the principal proposition: "So wer so ouh muas eigi, gebe 
demo, ni eigi" (Otfrid I. 24.7) "Whoever has food let him 
give of it to him who hasn't any." Here the demonstrative has 
the case form demanded by the verb of the principal propo- 
sition. In the second form the demonstrative stands in the 
second proposition and has the case form required by the 
verb of this proposition : ' ' Mit des grals insigel hie kumt uns 
des wir gerten ie" ("Parzival," 792. 29-30) "Here comes to 
us with the seals of the Grail he for whom we have been yearn- 
ing so long." Mr. Gustav Neckel who discusses these two 
forms in his interesting little book "tiber die altgermanischen 
Relativsatze, " Palaestra V comes to the conclusion that the 
position of the demonstrative is regulated by the case form 
demanded by the verbs of the two propositions. The demon- 
strative stands in that proposition in which there is a verb 
that requires a genitive or dative: "Ahzehen wochen hete 
gelebt/des muoter mit dem tode strebt" ("Parzival" 109. 5-6) 
' ' He had lived eighteen weeks whose mother is now struggling 
with death. ' ' Mr. Neckel thinks that a nominative or accusative 
can easily be supplied in thought and hence the subject is here 
understood, while the genitive "des" is expressed, as a geni- 
tive or dative cannot be so easily supplied in thought. Thus 
according to Mr. Neckel it is a mere question of case form. 
The writer has collected a large number of examples which 
do not confirm this rule. From these examples it becomes 



A History of the English Relative Constructions 21 

apparent that the law involved is not a formal one, but is 
based upon the meaning. The demonstrative stands in the 
first proposition where the second proposition is clearly sub- 
ordinate and restricts the meaning of the first one closely: 
"ein teil des ich von iu verlos" ("Parzival," 327.11) "a part 
of that (which) I lost thru you." On the other hand, the 
demonstrative stands in the second proposition whenever that 
proposition contains an important independent fact: "Du 
zihst in [des] daz doch nie geschah" (ib. 352.20) "You accuse 
him of that which surely never took place. ' ' The second pro- 
position is not a restrictive clause but an independent and 
very positive utterance of the very positive little Obilot. The 
idea of an independent statement is also indicated by the 
use of the demonstrative in the second proposition. We us- 
ually find here in restrictive clauses a personal pronoun which 
is usually of so little weight that it is omitted. This demon- 
strative is not a relative that has glided over into the sub- 
ordinate clause from the principal proposition where it was 
originally a demonstrative, but it originally stood in the 
second proposition and has been retained on account of its 
importance. Notice that the demonstrative "des" has been 
omitted in the principal proposition, while according to Mr. 
Neckel's rule it ought to be expressed and the nominative 
"das" should be omitted. The "des" is omitted here because 
the following proposition is not a restrictive clause but an 
almost independent statement, hence it is not needed to point 
forward to the following restriction. Likewise in the example 
from "Parzival" 109. 5-6, quoted by Mr. Neckel as given 
above. In this spirited sentence of the great poet there are 
two almost independent statements, an unborn child had been 
living and developing for eighteen weeks, its mother was 
struggling with death. Likewise in 148. 28-9 : ' ' Sus wart fur 
Artusen braht an dem got wunsches het erdaht" "Thus there 
was brought before Arthur that one upon whom God had 
bestowed the most beautiful gifts." There is no need here 
to describe the person brought before the king. We know that it 
is Parzival. The poet gives in his second proposition not a 
restriction for the identification of the person, but adds an 
independent statement about him. While the two propositions 



22 Curme 

are almost independent the omission of the pronominal sub- 
ject of the first one indicates a relation between them, a loose 
relation, parataxis. The omission of the pronoun in the sec- 
ond proposition and the use of the demonstrative at the end 
of the first one pointing to a following restriction denotes a 
closer relation, hypotaxis : ' ' Die man sie gar verswuor, wan 
den sie got bewiste" (ib. 824.24-5) "She renounced men ex- 
cept the one whom God would assign to her. ' ' The demonstra- 
tive "den" is here used to point to the following restrictive 
clause. The personal object of the verb in the restrictive 
clause is a personal pronoun in the genitive, but it is omitted 
in accordance with common usage, while it ought to be ex- 
pressed and "den" omitted according to Mr. Neckel's rule, 
for according to him we could easily supply the accusative 
"den." In fact, however, "den" cannot be omitted, for it 
points to the following restriction. Thus the writer sees in 
these two constructions the clever attempt of the older period 
to give formal expression to the idea of parataxis and hypo- 
taxis. These two older types are not always consistently fol- 
lowed as they are not even in the oldest period clearly felt, 
for the new correlative type with entirely new grammatical 
conceptions had already obscured the older ideas. Later the 
correlative type gained almost a complete victory over the 
older forms. The older type is now only used in the mascu- 
line and feminine with definite reference: "Die ich meine 
heisst Frau Findelklee" (Hauptmann's "Versunkene Glo- 
cke," Act. 2.1.1047.) The Correlative type, i. e. "die die" 
instead of simple "die" is also used here and is even more 
common than the older single form. In English the corre- 
lative type has also prevailed in the literary language, but 
jn colloquial speech the older hypotactic asyndetic construc- 
tion can still be used. We can translate "Wolfram's "Do kam 
von dem ich sprechen will ("Parzival," 132.28) by "then 
came that one I shall speak of. ' ' The translation, however, is 
not accurate. Wolfram used the old paratactic asyndetic 
type, while the modern English form is hypotactic with a de- 
monstrative pointing to a following restriction. It fact there 
is no restriction here. Wolfram actually says: "Then came 
a man, of that one I shall now have something to say. ' ' The 



A History of the English Relative Constructions 23 

second proposition is not a restriction but the more important 
of the two statements. Thus we do not in modern German or 
English pay any attention to the thought distinction observed 
in the older periods, but employ uniformly the correlative type 
and in English in addition also the hypotactic form of the 
asyndetic construction. The impelling force in both lan- 
guages is the modern desire to indicate hypotaxis, to employ 
hypotactic form where there is the slightest relation, sometimes 
even where the independence of statement ought to be em- 
phasized rather than its dependence. Thus thought has been 
secrificed to form. The development of hypotaxis has in gen- 
eral made modern speech much more accurate and elegant, but 
it has at points, as here, weakened the expression of thought 
and feeling. A clear insight into our loss here ought to spur 
us to resist somewhat the hypotactical tendency and to hold 
on to some of the old things that have come down to us 
charged with the vigor of simpler and more energetic thought 
and feeling. 

The asyndetic relative construction following a noun or 
demonstrative antecedent as illustrated in the preceding para- 
graphs was never very common in the older German periods, 
but it is quite common in Otfrid and Wolfram. The two 
largest Germans of the older periods and the largest English- 
man were all very fond of this construction. The simplest 
explanation is that they were all in close touch with national 
life. In England the literary language of the South had in 
the oldest period barred this native method of expression al- 
most entirely out. Later the rise of the dialects brought it 
into favor. In Germany, on the other hand, it was much more 
common in the oldest period and later gradually disappeared. 
The largest men were naturally more independent in language 
and their strong thought and feeling broke through the artifi- 
cial barriers and sought natural channels of expression. At 
first it seems rather strange to find such a very free use of this 
construction in so late an author as Wolfram. At the close of 
the Old High German period the construction was very little 
used, even in such an important and vigorous writer as Notker. 
Then came Wolfram who used it very freely and in every form 
known in the oldest period. Notker was a learned man under 



24 Curme 

Latin influence. Wolfram, as he tells us himself, could neither 
read nor write. Some scholars regard Wolfram's utterance 
as one of his many jokes. It seems to them impossible that one 
who has found a beautiful expression for the most wholesome 
and profound philosophy of human living propounded by any 
of the older German writers could be without a knowledge of 
the art of reading and writing. It has been to the present 
writer a source of pleasure and inspiration in the last fifteen 
years to lead each year young people to this foundation of 
wholesome philosophy, but the conviction has steadily grown 
that Wolfram has told the truth. This language so full of 
asyndesis is the expression of one unacquainted with scholarly 
linguistic Latin learning. It is a free and natural expres- 
sion of one used to speaking rather than writing. Under this 
impression the writer turned to Hans Sachs to see if in this 
simple man of the people the old asyndetic construction might 
in a much later period still be found. Asyndetic parataxis 
is very common. His works fairly abound in such sentences 
as: "Gen Augspurg kam ein edelman, / der het ein knecht, 
[er] hiess Grobian" ("Die klain fischlein," 11. 1-2). "Vor 
langer zeit ein pawer sas in Payern, [er] alt von jaren was" 
("Die fabel von dem Pa wren, wolff und fiiechs," 11.1.2). 
Often the two propositions lie side by side, each a complete 
sentence: "Auch ist ain spil, haist man das puecken" ("Der 
verspilt rewter"). We find this complete form also in close 
hypotaxis. "Mein Herr, ich bin der man, / die Manner ich 
gefressen han, / die selber waren Herr im Haus" ("Der Nar- 
renfresser," 11. 59-61). This interesting sentence has all the 
earmarks of primitive German. The definite article before 
"man" points to the following restrictive asyndetic relative 
clause. Also the more common hypotactic type with omitted 
pronoun is found, both after a noun and a demonstrative ante- 
cedent. The omitted pronoun may be in the nominative rela- 
tion: "Weil der frid ist das hohest giiet / all creatur erfrewen 
thuet" (Fabel des fuechs mit der schlangen," 11.35-6). "Da 
hort er das im nit gefiel" ("Der sailler erstach den miinich 
und sein weib," 1.15.). The omitted pronoun may be in the 
accusative relation or in some other oblique case : ' ' Mein speis 
die was / allein das fleisch der Thier ich ass" ("Lowin mit 



A History of the English Relative Constructions 25 

ihren Jungen," 11. 26-7). The hypotactic construction, how- 
ever, is very rare in Hans Sachs. Also Luther offers but a 
few examples. It is quite evident that while the paratactic 
construction was very common at this period the hypotactic 
form had almost disappeared. The Latin type had gradually 
supplanted the native German form. 

In the oldest English period there are very few examples 
of the simple type of asyndesis discussed above. This is of 
course not a natural condition of things because the further we 
go back the commoner it ought to be. In the documents that 
have come down to us it is most common in parataxis where 
the omitted pronoun is in the nominative relation: ''Sum 
welig man waes hffifde sumne gerefan" (Luke 16.1, Corpus 
MS.) "There was a certain rich man who had a steward." 
The Latin original "quidam erat diues qui habebat uilicum" 
shows clearly hypotactic form by the use of the relative 
"qui." In Latin "qui" usually indicates a close connection, 
but it is also employed as here where the connection was 
loose. The Anglo-Saxon translator here followed his English 
speech-feeling and deviated from the Latin model. As we 
have seen above the old asyndetic construction resisted also in 
German the Latin type the most successfully in parataxis, for 
the Latin original seemed at this point entirely too foreign. 
The English translator made a distinction in his translation 
between close and loose connection, although in his native 
idiom he used the asyndetic construction in both cases. It 
was natural for him to bring together, i. e. to speak in one 
breath what was related. To the Germanic mind hypotactical 
form was something new and foreign. It grasped the idea 
that the most common and characteristic force of "qui" was 
to indicate close connection i. e. that it introduced a restrict- 
ive clause. Wherever the connection was close both English 
and German writers under the influence of the Latin avoided 
carefully their native asyndetic construction, but they still 
yielded frequently to their natural inclination to bring related 
things together in asyndetic form wherever the connection 
was not close. It seems at first more natural that they would 
use asyndesis where the connection was close, for it was a 
Germanic tendency to bring together what was closely related, 



26 Curme 

but they had observed that close connection was denoted in 
Latin by an especial word and among English and German 
writers it became a fixed goal to find for this idea a formal 
expression in some native word. This more frequent use of 
hypotactic form for close connection than for loose resulted 
for the most part from the peculiar form of the Germanic sen- 
tence here. As we have seen above a demonstrative pronoun 
stood at the end of the principal proposition pointing to the 
following restrictive clause. Under the influence of the Latin 
this demonstrative developed into a relative pronoun. There 
was no such demonstrative in sentences where the connection 
was loose and the use of hypotaxis was quite unnatural and 
developed very slowly. 

The commonest use of the asyndetic hypotaxis in Old Eng- 
lish is where the antecedent is a demonstrative. The omitted 

pronoun may be in the nominative case : ' ' Lisse selle J?am 

J?e wirftiab" (Genesis, 1757) "I offer favor to those who honor 
thee." The omitted pronoun may be in some oblique case: 
"Wiste forwohrte J>a he eer wlite sealde" (ib., 857) "He 
knew those to be guilty to whom he had given beauty. " " Gode 
J>ancode . . . J?aes se man gesprsec " ( " Beowulf, ' ' 1398 ) ' ' He 
thanked God for that which the man had spoken." The pro- 
noun in the relative clause may be expressed as in case of the 
language of Hans Sachs described above: "And ]>ser is mid 
Estum an maegS J?set hi magon cyle gewyrcan" (King Al- 
fred's "Voyage of Wulfstan") "There is among the Esthon- 
ians one tribe which can create cold," literally "one tribe, 
that one, they can create cold. ' ' The neuter demonstrative as 
in this example is sometimes used with reference to persons. 
Likewise in the following example where the pronoun in the 
relative clause is omitted: "Hwa is J?et ]?e slog?" (Matth. 26, 
68, Rush worth Glosses) "Who is he that smote thee?", literal- 
ly "Who is that one?, [he] smote thee." Later in Middle 
English ' ' that ' ' regularly points to persons or things. 

The asyndetic construction is more common where the 
antecedent as in all these examples is a demonstrative than 
where it is a noun because the demonstrative has become 
associated with the Latin relative, and although it is in fact 
not a relative and as a demonstrative had the construction of 



A History of the English Relative Constructions 27 

the principal proposition it is in the feeling of the grammarian 
an approach to the Latin form if not a full equivalent. The 
demonstrative often as in the preceding examples stood at the 
end of the principal proposition so that it stood between the two 
propositions as the Latin relative. This old type is still used 
quite commonly where there is definite reference: "this fruit 
and that I bought yesterday." It has, however, entirely dis- 
appeared where the reference is general and indefinite, i. e. in 
clauses which we now regard as substantive clauses. As the 
demonstrative "that" has definite meaning there arose in 
course of time the feeling that a more indefinite word would 
be better suited to the indefinite force that naturally belongs 
to a neuter pronoun which without definite reference is used 
as the subject or object in a substantive clause. In spite of the 
conflict between the indefinite force of "that" in substantive 
clauses and its definite meaning when used elsewhere it was 
only after a long struggle that it was supplanted in this func- 
tion by some other word. It is still used by Shakspere: "I 
earn that I eat, get that I wear" ("As you like it," 3, 2, 76). 
Although this simple form was common here in Oldest Eng- 
lish the fuller form with "Se" described at length below also 
occurred: "ne herigen J?sette [= J?tet Se] unnyttre is" (King 
Alfred's "Boethius," Sedgefield's ed. p. 72) "Nor praise 
what is useless," literally "Nor praise that there, [it] is use- 
less." In Middle English ">aet Be" became "that that." 
This double form also came from another sourse: "J?aet god 
gesamnode ne syndrige ]>set nan man" (Mark 10.9. Corpus 
MS.) "That [which] God has joined together let no man put 
(that) asunder." Both "Cast's" here were originally demon- 
stratives, but the double form led to the idea of correlatives 
and brought about a real relative construction : " Ne nan man 
ne mseg . . . him gedon J?et hit sie Sffit Saet hit ne biS" (King 
Alfred's "Boethius," p. 36) "No one can cause him (an intel- 
ligent man) to be that which or what he is not." "That 
that is, is" (Shakspere's "Twelfth N." IV. 2). This double 
form and the other single "that" were later supplanted by 
' ' that which ' ' or more commonly ' ' what, ' ' the latter of which 
forms appeared very early in Middle English. The correla- 
tives "that which" appeared much later, for the original use 



28 Curme 

of "which" after an antecedent was for definite, precise refer- 
ence and hence it could not be employed after indefinite 
"that." Even today "that which" is not as common as 
"what." There is one place, however, where it is exclusively 
used, namely in definitions : ' ' That which separates one part 
of a surface from an adjoining point is called a line." This 
brings out the real difference between "that which" and 
' ' what. ' ' The former is a little more definite, although in gen- 
eral they both are general and indefinite and usually have 
much the same meaning. 

Asyndetic hypotaxis is in Oldest English not only found 
after a simple demonstrative, but it also occurs sometimes 
after a pleonastic demonstrative that repeats a preceding 
demonstrative and stands after the governing noun so that it 
may point to the following syndetic relative clause: J?aet 
is se Abraham se him engla god naman niwan asceop" 
("Exodus," 380) "That is that Abraham to whom the God of 
the angels gave a new name," literally "That Abraham, that 
one, the God of the angels gave him a new name." It is 
evident that the "se" here is a demonstrative, as it has the 
case required by the verb of the principal proposition. Where, 
however, the case demanded by the principal proposition is 
the same as that required by the verb of the subordinate 
clause it is impossible to tell whether the demonstrative be- 
longs to the principal proposition or the subordinate clause: 
"Se dema se Saet ingeSonc eal wat, he eac Saem ingeSonce 
demS" ("Pastoral Care," Sweet 38.11) "The judge who 
knows the inner thoughts judges the inner thoughts. ' ' In such 
sentences the demonstrative gradually developed into a rela- 
tive and passed from the principal proposition to the subor- 
dinate clause. 

The asyndetic hypotactic construction is in oldest Eng- 
lish very rare where the antecedent is a noun. In the first 
example in the preceding paragraph the antecedent is a noun, 
but it is followed by a demonstrative which is felt as the real 
antecedent. In oldest West Saxon, the literary language of 
the South, hypotactic asyndesis is carefully avoided where the 
antecedent is a noun. Also in the Gospels in the Corpus MS. 
written about A. D. 1000 there is not the slightest tendency 



A History of the English Relative Constructions 29 

toward asyndesis, nor is there any further advance in Laya- 
mon 's ' ' Brut ' ' written about 1205. This must simply be liter- 
ary usage, for asyndetic hypotaxis is common in the Lindes- 
farne Glosses written near Durham about 950. The writer be- 
lieves he has made here an important discovery, for he cannot 
find anywhere in learned literature any mention of asyndetic 
hypotaxis in these glosses. The language of these glosses has 
been carefully studied by able scholars with regard to its phon- 
ology and inflectional systems, but the syntax has been slighted 
on the general grounds that the syntax of a dialect cannot be 
accurately determined from mere glosses. It will appear, 
however, from the examples given below that the frequent use 
of asyndetic hypotaxis in these glosses is beyond doubt. This 
Durham usage acquires additional importance when brought 
into relation to the many other features of the north English 
dialects that indicate a general trend in the North toward 
terseness and directness, such as the shortening of words by 
the dropping of endings, the tendency to discard grammatical 
gender, etc. The use of asyndetic hypotaxis while it is among 
other northern features which indicate a fondness for terse 
expression, must not be thought of as of northern origin. It 
was primitive Germanic. It was preserved in North English 
because North Englishmen spoke their native dialect. In 
every West Germanic dialect asyndesis was a common feature. 
As we shall see later the writer of the Lindisf arne Glosses was 
influenced in his translation by his Latin model, but there is in 
his usage no fixed convention that proscribes asyndesis and he 
often employs it in contrast to the Latin original. 

Northwestern University. GEORGE 0. CURME. 

(To be continued) 



30 Miller 



DIE EBSTE DEUTSCHE tJBERSETZUNG VON SHAKE- 
SPEARES " ROMEO AND JULIET." 

Im Jahre 1758 erschien ein dreibandiges "Werk in Basel 
unter dem Titel : 

' ' Neue Probestucke der Englischen Schaubuhne 

aus der Ursprache ubersetzet von einem 

Liebhaber des guten Geschmacks. ' ' 

Unter den neun Dramen dieser Sammlung, die sonst von 
Young, Addison, Dryden, Otway, Masan, Congreve und Rowe 
herriihren, findet sich als drittes Stiick im zweiten Bande ein 
einziges von Shakespeare, namlich: "Romeo und Juliet, ein 
Trauerspiel in funf Aufzugen, von Shakespear. " 

Dies darf man als die erste deutsche Ubersetzung von 
Shakespeares grosser Tragodie betrachten. Zwar wurde das 
Drama schon im 17ten Jahrhundert von den englischen Komo- 
dianten in Deutschland aufgefiihrt, wie der im Dresdener 
Hofarchiv noch aufbewahrte Katalog beweist, der die Liste 
der Stiicke enthalt, die dort im Jahre 1626 von den Englan- 
dern gegeben wurden, mit Angabe des Datums von deren Auf- 
fuhrung. Danach wurde die "Tragoedia von Romio und 
Julietta" sehon am zweiten Januar wie auch sonst noch meh- 
rere Male im Laufe des Jahres aufgefiihrt. Eine Handschrift 
dieses Schauspiels in deutseher Sprache ist noch in der kaiser- 
lichen Bibliothek zu Wien vorhanden. Von ihr hat Albert 
Cohn in seinem Werke : ' ' Shakespeare in Germany in the 16th 
and 17th Centruries," einen Abdruck gegeben, wie auch eine 
englische Ubersetzung derselben. Von diesem in Alexan- 
drinern verfaszten Stiick sagt Cohn: "It is Shakespeare's 
play almost scene for scene, many passages are literal trans- 
lations. Really poetical passages have now and then crept in, 
apparently against the author's intention; but he has compen- 
sated himself for such mistakes by the omission of all the 
fine motives of this magnificent tragedy; as also by the in- 
sertion of comic scenes utterly devoid of taste, which by their 
disgusting coarseness obliterate the small amount of tragic 



Die Erste Deutsche Ubersetzung von "Romeo und Juliet" 31 

feeling of which this author is capable." Das Stuck ist aber 
nicht "the authentic text of the piece as played by the Eng- 
lish Comedians, but a version calculated for the requirements 
of the stage at a later period, in which the English element 
was but slightly represented in the companies." Eine Uber- 
setzung des Shakespeareschen Dramas also ist es keineswegs, 
und es kann daher der Baseler Ubersetzung das Recht auf die 
erste Stelle nicht streitig machen. 

In der Mitte des 18. Jahrhunderts war Shakespeare in 
Deutschland wenig bekannt. Der gelehrte Bodmer war wohl 
der erste Deutsche, der sich mit einem griindlichen Studium 
des englischenDramatikers beschaftigte,und im Jahre 1732 lobt 
er ihn im Vorworte zu seiner Ubersetzung von Miltons "Ver- 
lorenem Paradies." Seine "merkwiirdige Schreibung des 
Namens (Sasper, Saspar, Saksper)," obwohl man sie nicht 
"auf Rechnung seiner Unkenntnis setzen darf, mag man sie 
nun mit Elze (Shak. Jahrb. I 338) als Umdeutschung oder 
mit Vetter (Bodmer-Denksschrift S. 330) als verungliickten 
Versuch phonetischer Schreibung 1 ansehen," ist wenigstens ein 
Beweis defiir, dasz dieser Name dem deutschen Ohr noch 
f remd war. 

Baron von Borcks 1741 erschienene Ubersetzung von "Ju- 
lius Caesar" wurde von Gottsched verpont. 1 Uberhaupt war 
Deutschland damals so arm an tibersetzungen aus fremden Li- 
teraturen, dasz Lessing sich bitterlich dariiber beklagte, 2 und 
1754 in seiner " Theatralischen Bibliothek" lange Ausziige aus 
dem spanischen and franzosischen Drama ercheinen liesz. 
Dann und wann erhob sich eine Stimme in Deutschland fur 
Shakespeare. J. Elias Schlegel erkannte dessen Uberlegen- 
heit iiber Gryphius. 8 Jocher erwahnte ihn in seinem ' ' Gelehr- 
ten-Lexicon" als einen ausgezeichneten Dramatiker, doch 
"sei er kein Gelehrter." Der grosse Reformator Lessing war 
der erste Deutsche, diesen wunderbaren Genius in seiner gan- 

1 Wielands Shakespeare, von Ernst Stadler. 

1 "Beytrage zur Critischen Historic Der Deutschen Sprache." 

* Vorwort zu den "Beytragen zur Historic und Aufnahme des 
Theaters." 

* "Vergleichung Shakespears und Andreas Gryphs." Aufsatz in 
den "Critischen Beytragen." 28. Stiick. 



32 Miller 

zen Grosse zu begreifen, und in den Literaturbriefen fur das 
Studium von Shakespeares "Werken energisch aufzutreten. 

Daher darf unser Ubersetzer mit seinem 1758 vollendeten 
Werke unter die Pioniere gerechnet werden, die zu dem all- 
gemeinen Aufschwung des Zeitalters ihren Teil in Deutsch- 
land beitrugen; erstens, weil er neun englische Draraen statt 
franzosischer zur Ubersetzung wahlte, zweitens, weil er dem 
alteren, in Deutschland noch wenig gewiirdigten Shakespeare 
in seiner Sammlung Raum gewahrte, und drittens weil er die 
noch seltenen fiinffuszigen Jamben statt des Knittelverses 
oder der schwerf alligen Alexandriner benutzte. 

Die "Bibliothek der schonen Wissenschaften" vom Jahre 
1760 (B. VI St. 1, S. 60 ff) recensiert diese " Probestiieke " 
ziemlich scharf, obwohl der Kritiker, wie er sagt, nur ein ein- 
ziges Stiick, Otways "Wayse" namlich, gelesen hatte. 

Unter Anfiihrung von langen Ausziigen daraus macht der 
Kritiker auf manche Unrichtigkeiten in der Ubersetzung auf- 
merksam, besonders tadelt er die Ausdrucksweise als "zu 
Schweizerisch, " und die Verse als oft ungelenk. Doch er- 
kennt er es als ein Verdienst, dasz der Unbekannte die reim- 
losen fiinffiissigen Jamben gewahlt hat, und gibt zu, dasz die 
Ubersetzung an manchen Stellen gut sei, was ihn zu dem 
Wunsch veranlaszt, "dasz der Herr Verfasser seinen Ent- 
schlusz, eine Fortsetzung davon zu liefern, nicht ganz moge 
fahren lassen." Er ermahnt ihn aber, groszere Sorgfalt auf 
seine Arbeit zu verwenden, und empfiehlt ihm ' ' hauptsachlich 
die Shakespearischen Stucke : sie sind die schonsten aber auch 
die schwersten." 

In der "Chronologic des deutschen Theaters" (1775) 
steht auf Seite 201 f olgender Paragraph : 

"Zu Basel machte man das erstemal eine grosse Sammlung 
von iibersetzten englischen Schauspielen, unter dem Titel: 
Neue Probestueke der englischen Schaubuhne, worinnen in 
rauhen Versen travestirt erschienen : die Rache, ' ' usw. 

In seinem 1787 zu Zurich erschienenen "Werke, ' ' Ueber W. 
Shakespeare" erwahnt Joh. Joach. Eschenburg diese Uber- 
setzung auf Seite 503-4 wie folgt : 

"Seit der eben angefiihrten Uebersetzung des Julius Cae- 
sar* ist, so viel ich weisz, keines von den Shakspearischen 

* 1741, von Caspar Wilhelm von Borck. 



Die Erste Deutsche IJbersetzung von "Romeo und Juliet" 33 

Stucken, vor Erscheinung der Wielandischen Uebersetzung, 
verdeutscht worden, ausser Romeo und Julie, in den Neuen 
Probestucken der Englischen Schaubuhne, die ein Ungenann- 
ter zu Basel 1758 in drey Theilen gr. 8 herausgab. Ich kenne 
diese Uebersetzung nur blosz aus der in der Bibliothek der 
schonen Wissenschaften befindlichen Beurtheilung jener 
Sammlung, die freylich von dem Werthe derselben keine sehr 
gunstige Vorstellung erregt." 

Diese Uebersetzung von Romeo und Juliet findet auch in 
Rudolph Genees ' ' Geschichte der Shakespearischen Dramen in 
Deutschland, " Leipzig, 1870, auf Seite 204 Erwahnung, aber 
nur mit Berufung auf die drei obengenannten Kritiken. 

In einem Aufsatz vom Jahre 1878: "Ueber den fiinffus- 
sigen Iambus vor Lessing's Nathan," der im 90. Band der 
" Sitzungsberichte der philosophisch-historischen Classe der 
kaiserlichen Akademie der Wissenschaften" in Wien erschien, 
bespricht August Sauer diese "reimlose iambische Uebersetz- 
ung von neun Englischen Trauerspielen, " wobei er Bodmers 
Einfluss vermutet, was das Vermass anbetrifft. "Man musz 
nur bedauern" fahrt er fort, "dass der anonyme Uebersetzer 
nicht mehr Sorgfalt angewendet, und dass daher ein so um- 
fangreiches Werk so roh und unvollkommen werden musste." 
Spater gibt er aber zu: "Unser Verfasser kann leicht fiinf- 
fiissige Verse bilden, wenn er sich alle erdenkbaren Frei- 
heiten in Bezug auf den Versausgang und die Verwendung 
von Anapasten gestattet." 

Und noch im Jahre 1890 erwahnt Dr. Bruno Wagener auf 
Seite 2 seines Werkes: " Shakespeares Einfluss auf Goethe 
in Leben und Dichtung, ' ' eine Uebersetzung von ' ' Romeo und 
Julia," die nur mit folgender Anmerkung naher bezeichnet 
ist: "In den 'Neuen Probestucken der Englischen Schaubuh- 
ne, 2Bde, Basel, 1758." 

Sonst scheint diese kiihne Unternehmung vom Jahre 1758 
wenig Aufmerksamkeit auf sich gezogen zu haben ; das heiszt, 
wenn man aus dem Mangel an Anspielungen darauf in der 
Literatur schlieszen darf . Sie bietet uns daher ein interes- 
santes Feld zur Forschung. 

Das einzige meines Wissens noch erhaltene Exemplar die- 
ses Werkes befindet sich in der kaiserlichen Universitats-Bib- 



34 Miller 

liothek zu Straszburg, und 1st noch jetzt nach mehr als hun- 
dert und fiinfzig Jahren in dem besten Zustand. Die drei 
Oktavbande haben einen dauerhaften Einband von Leder, der 
Druck ist nicht verblichen and hat wenig Fehler. Das Werk 
macht iiberhaupt dem Verleger, Job. Jacob Schorndorff alle 
Ehre. Wer aber der Ubersetzer, dieser ' ' Liebhaber des guten 
Geschmacks ' ' gewesen ist, bleibt uns ein Geheimnis. 

In einem Briefe, den ich vor einigen Wochen von Dr. C. 
Chr. Bernwulli, Oberbibliothekar der Universitats-Bibliothek 
in Basel erhielt, schreibt er: "Ich mochte es nur als Vermu- 
tung aussprechen, es konnte Prof. Johann Jacob Spreng von 
Basel sein." Beweis dafiir hat sich aber bis jetzt nirgends ge- 
funden. 

Dasz er "Romeo und Juliet" nach derjenigen Ausgabe 
iibersetzte, "in welcher der beriihmte Schauspieler Garrike 
einige Veranderungen vorgenommen hat," ist selbstverstand- 
lich, da David Garrick damals auf dem Hohepunkt seines Ruh- 
mes in London stand, und, wie Genee sagt, "durch sein Spiel 
die Shakespeare 'schen Stiicke aufs neue belebte."* 

Obige Angabe, die auf dem Titelblatt der Ubersetzung 
steht, weist uns gleich auf jene Bearbeitung dieser Tragodie 
hin, die mehr als hundert Jahre ihren Platz auf der engli- 
schen Biihne behauptete, und erst vor einigen Jahrzehnten 
durch das Original verdrangt wurde. 

Im Jahre 1748, also in der zweiten Saison, nachdem David 
Garrick die Oberaufsicht des Drury Lane Theaters iibernom- 
men hatte, stutzte er Shakespeares "Romeo and Juliet" fur 
die Biihne zu. Diese "mangled version" ist, wie Joseph 
Knight in seiner Biographic: "David Garrick" sagt, "the 
earliest of those perversions of Shakespeare's texts which are 
Garrick 's crowning disgrace, and cast something more than 
doubt upon his much vaunted reverence for Shakespeare." 
Zwei Jahre spater ist diese Biihnenbearbeitung unter dem Ti- 
tel : " Romeo and Juliet. By Shakespeare. With alterations 
and an additional Scene, as it is performed at the Theatre- 
Royal in Drury Lane," bei den Londoner Verlegern, Tonson 
and Draper im Druck erschienen. 

*Geschichte der Shakespeare'schen Dramen in Deutschland, S. 142. 



Die Erste Deutsche Ubersetzung von "Romeo und Juliet" 35 

Eine zweite Biihnenausgabe, die Garlandsche namlich, ist 
unter derselben Jahreszahl, 1750 in den Katalog des British 
Museums eingetragen, obgleich kein Datum auf dem Titel- 
blatt steht, und nur Garricks Name im Personen-Verzeichnis 
zeigt, dasz diese auch von ihm herriihrt. 

Ein Vergleich der Ubersetzung vom Jahre 1758 mit diesen 
beiden Garrickschen Biihnentexten, als den einzigen, die wohl 
dem deutschen tibersetzer zuganglich waren, stellt fest, dasz 
derjenige von Tonson and Draper die Grundlage zu der Uber- 
setzung ist. Mit diesem Texte vom Jahre 1750 haben wir also 
zu tun. 

I. Abweichungen des Garrickschen Textes von Shake- 
speares Drama. 

A. Auszerliche Abweichungen. 

1. Im Namen-Verzeichnis steht Romeo obenan, und Ju- 
liet ist der erste unter den Frauennamen, selbstverstandlich 
urn Mr. Garrick und Miss Bellamy, welehe diese Hauptrollen 
spielten, gebiihrend hervorzuheben. 

Der Name wie auch die Rolle von Lady Montague fehlt, 
und Peters Name erscheint nicht im Verzeichnis, obwohl er 
seine Rolle wie bei Shakespeare spielt. In diesen Punkten 
folgt die Ubersetzung der Garrickschen Ausgabe. 

Montague, Tybalt, Laurence haben bei Garrick die Formen : 
Mountague, Tibalt, Lawrence, wahrend der tibersetzer zwar 
Tibalt, doch Montagu und Lorenz schreibt. Andere deut- 
sche Formen, die in der Ubersetzung vorkommen, sind : Eska- 
lus, Merkutio und Johann, wahrend die englische Juliet bei- 
behalten ist. Balthasar erscheint in der Ubersetzung ohne h 
und Lady Capulet ist durch Frau Capulet wiedergegeben. 

Bei Garrick stehen die Namen der Personen ohne Bezeich- 
nung, nach jedem aber der Name des Schauspielers, der die 
betreffende Rolle spielte, wahrend der Ubersetzer in dieser 
Hinsicht Shakespeare folgt: ja, nach einigen Namen fiigt er 
noch etwas hinzu, namlich : 

nach Romeo " und Liebhaber der Juliet. ' ' 

nach Paris "in die Juliet verliebt." 

nach Lorenz . . . . ' ' und Beichtvater der Juliet. ' ' 



36 Miller 

nach Juliet ''von Romeo geliebt." 

nach Frau Capulet " und der Juliet Muter. ' ' 

2. Einteilung des Stiickes in Scenen. 

Der ganze erste Akt hat bei Garrick eine neue Einrich- 
tung, und besteht aus sechs statt fiinf Scenen. 

Scene I. bis zu dem Ausspruch des Prinzen iiber die Hau- 
ser Capulet und Mountague. 

Scene II. Gesprach zwischen Mountague und Benvolio 
iiber Romeo. 

Scene III. Shakespeares Scene II entsprechend ; Paris 
wirbe um Juliets Hand, Capulet ladet ihn zum Feste ein. 

Scene IV. Ein Wald bei Verona, Mercutio und Benvolio 
warten auf Romeo, der gleich auftritt. Dann folgt ein Ge- 
sprach, das teils aus dem letzten Teile der ersten und der 
zweiten Scene, und teils aus Shakespeares vierter Scene zu- 
sammengestellt ist. Also findet im ersten Akte nur ein ein- 
ziges Zusammentreffen der jungen Freunde statt, wodurch der 
Akt an dramatischer Einheit gewinnt. 

Die fiinfte Scene vor Capulets Haus entspricht Shake- 
speares dritter zwischen Frau Capulet, Juliet und der Amme, 
und die sechste Scene stellt den Maskeball dar, wie Shake- 
speares Scene V. 

Akt III erhalt acht statt fiinf Scenen, aber nur durch das 
Einteilen der ersten in drei, und der fiinften in zwei Scenen. 
Die zweite Scene beginnt gleieh, nachdem man den verwun- 
deten Mercutio ins Haus gebracht, die dritte nach Tibalts Tod 
und Romeos Flucht, und die achte nach dem letzten Abschied 
zwischen den Liebenden. 

Auch findet sich eine Teilung in der dritten Scene des 
fiinften Aktes, und zwar da, wo Romeo und sein Bedienter 
auf dem Kirchhof auftreten. 

In der Einteilung folgt die Ubersetzung dem Garrick- 
schen Text aufs genaueste mit Ausnahme davon, dasz der 
erste Aufzug durch das Einteilen des sechsten Auftritts einen 
"Siebenden" erhalt, worin Juliet sich bei der Amme nach 
ihrem Verehrer erkundigt. 

3. Biihnenweisungen. 

Fast durchgehends tritt bei Garrick wie auch in der Uber- 
setzung eine Person auf, ehe von ihr die Rede ist, wahrend 



Die Erste Deutsche Ubersetzung von "Romeo und Juliet" 37 

Shakespeares gewohnliches Verfahren gerade das Gegenteil 
1st. Zum Beispiel liest man bei Shakespeare in Akt I, Scene I : 
"Greg. (Aside to Sam.) Say "better;" here comes one of my mas- 
ter's kinsmen. 

Sam. Yes, better, sir. 
Abr. You lie. 
Sam. Yes, better, sir. 

blows. (They fight.) 

Enter Benvolio." 

Dagegen hat Garrick : 

"Enter Benvolio. 
Greg. Say better: here comes" etc. 

Was der Baseler genau iibersetzt: 

"(Benvolio kommt hinein) 
Gregory. 

Sprich, einem besseren:" *?. 
Akt II, Scene V. 
"Jul. O God, she comes! 

enter Nurse and Peter." Shakespeare, 
gegen Garricks: 

"Enter Nurse. 
Jul. O Heaven ! here she comes." 

Dafiir im deutschen Texte : 

"(die Amme und Peter kommen hinein) 
Juliet, Sie kommt, O Himmel!" usw. 

B. Abweichungen den Inhalt betreffend. 

1. Das Abschaffen des Reimes. 

Garrick schafft die haufig vorkommenden Reime vielfach 
fort durch Auslassung der Reimpaare, die so oft eine Rede 
schlieszen, durch den Gebrauch von anderen Worten, oder 
durch anderes Zusammenstellen der Worter, wobei er oft eine 
unbetonte Endsilbe anhangt. 

Nehmen wir zum Beispiel folgendes aus Akt I, Scene V. 

"Tib. Now, by the stock and honor of our race (Sh. kin,) 

To strike him dead I hold it not a sin." oder: 
"Tib. Uncle, this is a Mountague, our foe, 

A villain that is hither come in spite 

To scorn and flout at our solemnity." 

fur Shakespeares : " To scorn at our solemnity tonight. ' ' 

Als Beispiel fur die unbetonte Endsilbe nehmen wir fol- 
gende Stelle aus Akt II, Scene III. 



38 Miller 

"Fri. L. Young Son, it argues a distemper'd head, 
So soon to bid good morrow to thy pillow." (Sh. "bed.") 

"Romeo. Then plainly know my heart's dear love is set 
On Juliet, Capulet's fair daughter." 

(Shakespeare, "On the fair daughter of rich Capulet.") 

und folgende von Garrick in dieselbe Scene eingeschaltete Zei- 
len, die gleich auf Romeos Worte : 

"She whom I love, 
Doth give me grace for grace, and love for love," 

f olgen, namlich : 

"Do thou, with Heaven, smile upon our union, 
Do not withhold thy benediction from us." 

Fiir dieses Verfahren finden wir folgende komische Recht- 
fertigung in dem "Advertisement" am Anfang der Aus- 
gabe vom Jahre 1750 : ' ' The Design was to clear the Original 
as much as possible, from the Jingle and Quibble which were 
always thought a great Objection to performing it." Darii- 
ber sagt mit Recht Howard Candler, Prasident der ' ' Toynbee 
Shakespeare Society" von London: "The lines introduced 
and altered with the recurrent extra syllable, are painfully 
prosaic. ' ' 

In der Dbersetzung f ehlt zwar der Reim, aber die unbetonte 
Silbe am Ende der fiinffiiszigen Jamben ist hier die Regel. 
Betrachten wir z. B. folgende Stelle aus Merkutios Rede in 
dem vierten Auf tritt des ersten Aufzuges : 

"Merkutio. 

Ha! Ha! Bin Traum! 
Das alte Zauberweib hat dich besuchet. 
Sie ist die Wehmuter der Einbildung; 
sie ist nicht dicker als ein Agatstein 
an eines Aldermannes Zeigeftnger; 
Es zieht sie ein Gespann von Sonnenstaiibgen ; 
Sie fahrt uns in die Nase, wenn wir schlafen. 
die Radersparren sind von Spinnebeinen ; 
des Wagens Decke von Hauspringersfliigeln ; 
Die Transen von dem kleinsten Spinngewebe." 

2. Abkiirzung. 

Mit der Einfuhrung des Scenenwechsels, der zu Shake- 
speares Zeit fehlte,muszte die Auffiihrung eines Stiickes selbst- 



Die Erste Deutsche flbersetzung von "Romeo und Juliet" 39 

verstandlich mehr Zeit in Anspruch nehmen. Fiir eine Biih- 
nenausgabe des 18. Jahrhunderts also war eine Abkiirzung 
wohl notig. Dabei schreitet Garrick ziemlich riieksichtlos 
vor. 

1.) Der Prolog und der Epilog zu Anfang und Ende des 
ersten Aktes fallen aus, was wohl fur den modernen Gesehmack, 
der vom moralischen Zwecke eines Kunstwerkes nichts wissen 
will und fiir den vermittelnden Chor der Alten den Sinn ver- 
loren hat, ein Vorteil zu nennen ware. Jedoch in Anbetracht 
der groszen Vorliebe des 18. Jahrhunderts fiir dergleichen 
ware es kaum zu erwarten, besonders da Garrick, der, wie 
Knight behauptet, ' ' a neat touch in such matters ' ' hatte, fast 
jedes in seinem Theater aufgefiihrte Stuck mit einem selbst- 
verfaszten Prologe versah. 

2. ) Das Wortspiel, die anderen Spasze der Bedienten, die 
Garrick "Quibble" nennt, und fast alle Monologe und lan- 
geren Zwiegesprache sind viel kiirzer oder fallen ganz aus. 

Akt I, Scene I ist das Gesprach zwisehen Gregory und 
Sampson bis auf ungefahr die Halfte verkiirzt, wie auch in 
Scenen I und II diejenigen zwisehen Romeo, Benvolio und 
den Bedienten. 

Die Episode von dem Namen-Verzeichnis der einzuladen- 
den Gaste fehlt ganz. Uberhaupt spielen die Bedienten, be- 
sonders im Hause Capulets eine viel kleinere Rolle. Sie feh- 
len, zum Beispiel, ganz vor dem Maskenball am Anfang der 5. 
Scene des 1. Aktes und in der 2. und 4. Scene des 4. Aktes, wo 
von den Vorbereitungen auf die Hochzeit die Rede ist. Diese 
Abkiirzungen kann man gelten lassen, aber die Auslassung 
des Gesprachs zwisehen Peter und den Musikanten am Ende 
des 4. Aktes ist sehr gewagt, da dies der letzte Lichtstrahl ist 
vor den schnell aufeinander folgenden tragischen Ereignis- 
sen des letzten Aktes. 

Im ersten und zweiten Akte kiirzt Garrick die Unterhal- 
tung zwisehen dem geistreichen Mercutio und seinen Freun- 
den ab (wohl um jenes "Quibble" zu vermeiden), bis wir so 
manchen leichten Zug vermissen, wodurch Shakespeare den 
von Brooks nur einmal erwahnten Hofling zu jener wunder- 
baren Verschmelzung des "fine gentleman" mit dem tapferen 



40 Miller 

Ritter* macht, der mit seinem kiihnen Witze dem phantasie- 
vollen, leidenschaftlichen Romeo zur Folie dient. 

Der groszte Teil von Capulets und der Amme iibertrie- 
benen Klagen iiber Juliets Tod, die Richard Grant White als 
Verspottung der 1581 erschienenen Ubersetzung von Senecas 
Tragodien ansieht, fallt aus, was eine entschiedene Verbesse- 
rung ist. 

In der fiinften Scene des dritten Aktes fehlt der Teil der 
Unterhaltung zwischen Lady Capulet und Juliet, wo diese ih- 
rem erkiinstelten Abscheu vor Romeo als dem Morder ihres 
Vetters Ausdruck gibt. Dadurch verliert das junge, uner- 
fahrene, doch schwerbedrangte Wesen einen Zug der Friih- 
reife, die, meiner Meinung nach, zu ihrem Charakter nicht 
paszt. 

Von den langeren Reden, die vielfach abgekiirzt sind, sind 
diejenigen von dem Monch besonders hervorzuheben ; z. B. Akt 

II, Scene III, wo er Romeo den Wankelmut vorwirft; Akt 

III, Scene II, wo er versucht, Romeo aus seiner Verzweiflung 
aufzuriitteln, und Akt IV, Scene V, wo er liber Juliets ver- 
meintlichen Tod moralisiert. 

Die allerletzte Scene wird durch Auslassungen in des 
Romeo und des Paris Reden, durch den Ausfall der Unterhal- 
tung zwischen dem Monch und Balthasar, und des Verhors 
von Balthasar und dem Pagen Romeos bis auf zwei Drittel des 
Ganzen verkiirzt. 

3.) Die unbedeutende Rolle von der Grafin Montague 
fallt, wie gesagt, ganz weg, und Frau Capulet erscheint nicht 
auf der Strasze wahrend des Straszentumults im ersten Akte, 
nach dem Ermorden Tibalts im dritten Akte, und vor der 
Gruf t in der letzten Scene ; wodurch ein Gef iihl des Bef rem- 
dens beseitigt wird, das einen fast unbewuszt bei ihrem Er- 
scheinen unter solchen Umstanden beschleicht. 

Mit Ausnahme von vereinzelten Versen, die unten be- 
sprochen werden, folgt der Ubersetzer seinem gewahlten Texte 
auch in der Abkiirzung. 

3. Juliets Alter ist bei Garrick, wie auch in der Uber- 
setzung achtzehn statt vierzehn Jahre, was wohl besser zu den 

*Richard Grant White: Vorwort zu seiner Ausgabe von Shake- 
speare's "Romeo and Juliet." (1861). 



Die Erste Deutsche tibersetzung von "Romeo und Juliet" 41 

Anschauungen des achtzehnten Jahrhunderts in England 
paszte. 

4. Rosaline wird iiberhaupt nicht erwahnt, Romeo liebt 
Juliet von Anfang an, und entschlieszt sich, dem Maskenball 
beizuwohnen, aus Sehnsucht danach, seine unerreichbare 
Schone doch noch einmal zu sehen. Hierin zeigt Garrick, 
dasz er die feine Menschenkenntnis nicht zu verstehen ver- 
mochte, die Shakespeare dadurch erwiesen hat, dasz er die Ge- 
stalt Rosalines beibehielt. Was einem im ersten Augenblick 
als Beweis des Wankelmuts vorkommen mochte, ist weiter 
nichts als Mittel zur Darstellung des leidenschaftlichen Jiing- 
lings, der nach der Liebe schmachtet, und der, da die Rosa- 
line sich unerbittlich zeigt, sich selbstverstandlich auf den 
ersten Blick in die schone, liebevolle Juliet verliebt. Mit der 
Auslassung der Rosaline ist Garrick auch den popularen An- 
schauungen seines Jahrhunderts entgegengekoramen. Im Lau- 
fe der Zeit aber wurde das allgemeine Urteil dariiber rich- 
tiger. Howard Candler sagt : ' ' The omission of Rosaline is a 
grave blot on Shakespeare's intention and Bandello's plot." 

5. Am Anfang des fiinften Aktes setzt Garrick eine neue 
Scene ein, die den Leichenzug Juliets vorstellt, wobei ein ab- 
geschmacktes Grablied gesungen wird. Hier nahm der Schau- 
spieler wohl Riicksicht auf das Verlangen seiner Zeit nach 
theatralischem Effekte. 

Paris' Worte, (V, 3, resp. 4) die bei Shakespeare folgen- 
dermaszen lauten : 

"Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew: 
O woe, thy canopy is dust and stones! 
Which with sweet water nightly I will dew; 
Or, wanting that, with tears distil I'd by moans: 
The obsequies that I for thee will keep, 
Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep." 

sind bei Garrick ganz umgewandelt: 

"Sweet flow'r! with flow'rs thy bridal bed I strew: 

(Strewing Flowers.) 

Fair Juliet, that with angels dost remain, 
Accept this latest favour at my hand, 
That living honour'd thee, and being dead, 
With funeral obsequies adorn thy tomb." 



42 Miller 

In der tJbersetzung lauten sie : 

"Du angenehmste Blume! Disc Blumen 
Hab ich gebracht, dein Brautbett zu bestreuen. 

(Streut die Blumen a us.) 
Du wohnst bei Engeln, schone Juliet, 
ninim diese letzte Gunst von meiner Hand, 
die lebend dich geehrt, und, da du todt bist, 
dein Grab mit disem Leichendienste ziert." 

6. Noch eine wichtige Veranderung findet sich in dem In- 
halt der vierten Scene vom fiinften Akte. Dem Beispiel von 
Otway folgend, der in seinem Drama, "Caius Marius" Shake- 
speares Tragodie auf merkwiirdige Weise verwandelt hat, 
laszt Garrick Juliet vor dem Tode ihres Gatten erwachen, und 
die Unglucklichen ein kurzes Gesprach fiihren. Als der Monch 
eintritt, findet er die ohnmachtige Juliet auf dem Leichname 
des eben gestorbenen Romeo. Bald kommt sie wieder zur Be- 
sinnung, der Monch mahnt sie zur Geduld; da fahrt sie ihn 
folgendermaszen an : 

"O thou cursed Friar! patience! 
Talks't thou of patience to a wretch like me !" 

was ein grelles storendes Licht auf den Charakter der vor dem 
Tode Stehenden wirft. Diese "Wiederaufnahme des von den 
Italienern herriihrenden Motivs ist entschieden ein Misser- 
folg. Dariiber driickt Edward Dowden sich folgendermaszen 
aus : ' ' It is wonderful what a good situation and a great actor 
can do upon the stage even with words such as these. " 

Im Wesentlichen wird auch diese Garricksche Scene in der 
Ubersetzung genau wiedergegeben. 

Und endlich zeigen sich f olgende Varianten in dem Schlusz : 

"Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things; 
Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished: 
For never was a story of more woe 
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo. Shakespeare. 

Let Romeo's man, and let the boy attend us: 

We'll hence, and farther scan these sad disasters: 

Well may ye mourn, my lords, (now wise too late) 

These tragic issues of your mutual hate: 

From private feuds, what dire misfortunes flow! 

Whate'er the cause, the sure effect is WOE." Garrick. 



Die Erste Deutsche Ubersetziing von "Romeo und Juliet" 43 

"Des Paris und des Romeo Bediente 
fiihrt zu uns, um sie annoch zu verhoren, 
und dieses Ungliicks ganzen Grund zu finden. 
Ihr trauert mit recht, die ihr zu spat nun klug seyd, 
beym schlimmen Ausgang euers bosen Hasses: 
Der Burger Zwist ist stets des Unheils Quelle; 
Was auch sein Anfang ist, sein End ist bos." 

II. Abweichungen der tibersetzung vom Garrickschen 
Texte. 

Mit Ausnahme von zwei spater zu besprechenden sind 
diese Abweichungen sehr unbedeutend. 

In der 5. Scene des 1. Aktes, wo bei Garrick die Armne ihre 
unanstandige Anekdote von Juliets Kindheit nur einmal er- 
zahlt, wiederholt sie dieselbe in der ftbersetzung genau wie 
bei Shakespeare. In der letzten Scene des 1. Aktes sagt 
Juliet zu der Amme : 

"A rhyme I learn'd e'en now 
Of one I talk'd withal." (Sh. "danced withal") 

Dafiir hat die "ttbersetzung : 

"Es ist ein Spruchwort, das ich einst gelesen." 

Am Ende des ersten Aktes erklart die Amme das Rufen: 
"Juliet" von jemand hinter der Scene mit den Worten: "Sie 
werden uns zum Essen ruff en ; " die sich nur in der Ubersetz- 
ung finden. 

Der Deutsche iibersetzt verschiedene Zeilen aus Romeos 
Selbstgesprach (II, 2), die bei Garrick fehlen, wie, zum Bei- 

spiel : 

"And none but fools do wear it; cast it off ;" 
was in der Ubersetzung lautet : 

"Nur Dohren dienen ihm; entschlag dich seiner." 
und f olgende Bezeichnung von : ' ' the wondering eyes of mor- 
tals, ' ' namlich : 

"that fall back to gaze on him." 

Dafiir in der tibersetzung : 

"die staunend riickwarts fallen." 

Folgende Stellen in derselben Scene weichen etwas von 
den englischen Texten ab ; 

"He jests at scars that never felt a wound," heiszt: 

"Er spottet iiber das, so nie geschehen." 



44 Miller 

"Wherefore art thou Romeo?" "Bist du noch Romeo?" 
"With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls." 
"Der Liebe leichten Fliigeln ist keine Maur zu hoch." 

und Romeos "Worte: "So thrive my soul." heiszen "Seele 
freue dich!" 

In der 4. Scene des 2. Aktes f ehlen in der Ubersetzung fol- 
gende "Worte von Shakespeare, die Garrick beibehalt : 

"Romeo: here is for thy pains. 

Nurse. No, truly, sir, not a penny. 
Rom. Go to, I say, you shall." 
"Fie, how my bones ache." (II, 5) heiszt: 
"ich glaube nicht, dasz ich noch Beine habe," 

In der ersten Scene des dritten Aktes sagt Mercutio : ' ' and 
yet thou wilt tutor me for quarreling ; ' ' was in der Ubersetz- 
ung lautet: "und doch willst du mich als einen Zanker aus- 
schreyen." Tibalt sagt: "Folgt mir auf dem Fusze," nach 
Shakespeares "Follow me close," statt Garrieks "Be near at 
hand" zu iibersetzen. Auch stehen in der Ubersetzung Ro- 
meos Worte an Tibalt : 

"Du weiszt die Ursach noch nicht meiner Liebe," 
fiir : "Till thou shalt know the reason of my love", 
welche Garrick auslaszt. 

Mercutios : 

"I am peppered, I warrant, for this world" heiszt: 

"Ich bin in diser Welt keinen Heller 

mehr wehrt, gewisz und wahrhaftig." 

Wie bei Shakespeare fragt Benvolio: Wie? bist du ver- 
wundet?" 

wahrend Garrick diese Worte dem Romeo in den Mund legt. 
(Ill, 1. resp. 3.) "Ben: This is the truth, or let Benvolio 
die." (G. "suffer") 

heiszt: "Dis ist die Wahrheit, und Benvolio kan darauf 

sterben," stimmt also zu Shakespeare. 
(Ill, 2. resp. 4.) Shakespeares "death-darting eye" iibersetzt 

der Deutsche : 

"todend Auge," statt Garricks "earth-darting eye," 
"These sorrows make me old," was Garrick auslaszt, 

lautet in der Ubersetzung: "dis macht mir graue Hare." 
(Ill, 5.) Hier finden sich folgende Zeilen, die bei Garrick 
f ehlen : 



Die Erste Deutsche Ubersetzung von "Eomeo und Juliet" 45 

"Nein, auser diser Stadt ist keine Welt, 
es ist sonst nichts als Fegfeuer, Folter, Holle,"* 

und mit folgender Wendung: 

"Dem Wort Verbannung streichst du Farbe an" 
gibt die Ubersetzung Garricks Worte wieder: 
"'Tis death mis-term'd:" 

Auch laszt die Ubersetzung drei Zeilen in derselben Scene 
ausf alien, die Garrick beibehalt, namlich : 

"Rom. Not I, unless the breath of heart-sick groans, 

Mistlike, infold me from the search of eyes. 
Fri: Hark how they knock Romeo, arise; Who's there?" 

Folgende Zeilen aus des Monches Mahnung an Romeo 
finden sich nicht in dem Garrickschen Texte : 

"Juliet lebt 

Um derentwillen du erst neulich todt warst: 
Hier bist du gliicklich. Tibalt woUte dich 
ermorden, aber Tibalt flel durch dich: 
Hier bist du wieder gliicklich. Das Gesetz 
veranderte den Tod in die Verbannung, 
und ward dein Freund: Hier bist du nochmals glucklich. 
Es driickt dich eine Last, die Last des Gliickes; 
Du stoszest Gliick und Liebe von dir weg. 
Nimm dich in Acht, denn solche sterben elend." 

Diese kraftvollen, iiberzeugenden Worte des Shakespeare- 
schen Textes mochten wir nicht gern vermissen. 

"Since I have stain 'd the childhood of our joy" (Sh. u. 
G.) heiszt "Ich schandete die Kindheit unsrer Liebe " 

Folgende Stelle hat diese Yarianten in den drei Texten : 

(III, 5, resp. 7) "Rom. Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat 
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads." (Sh.) 

"I'll say, 'tis not the lark, whose notes do beat 
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads:" (G.) 

"es ist die Nachtigal, die das Gewolbe 
des Himmels Tohnreich macht mit ihrem Liede." 

In derselben Scene laszt die Ubersetzung Romeos Worte 
ausf alien : 

"More light and light? more dark and dark our woes." 
(Ill, 5. resp. 8) Capulets Worte: "My fingers itch," die bei 

Garrick fehlen, gibt der Ubersetzer wieder mit den folgen- 

den: "die Fauste jucken mich." 

Dies ist eine wbrtliche ttbersetzung aus Shakespeare. 



46 Miller 

(IV, 1.) Juliets Rede: 

"If I do so, it will be of more price, 
Being spoke behind your back, than to your face." 

die bei Garrick nicht vorkommen, finden sich in der ttbersetz- 
ung wieder, namlich : 

"Wenn ich es tuh', so ists von groszrem Wehrte, 
als sagte ich dir es ins Angesicht." 

Und noch in derselben Scene iibersetzt der Baseler Shake- 
speares : 

' ' In thy best robes, ' ' statt Garricks : ' ' white robes. ' ' 
In IV, 3, behalt er die Anspielung auf die Alraunen in Ju- 
liets Selbstgesprach vor dem Einnehmen des Schlaftrunks bei 
die Garrick auslaszt. 

In der letzten Scene fehlt bei Garrick die Stelle, wo Ro- 
meo den Paris mahnt, an die Verstorbenen zu denken, und 
ihn nicht zum Mord zu reizen, auch fehlen sechs Zeilen, wo 
Romeo sich daran erinnert, dasz sein Bedienter ihm von 
einer Heirat der Juliet mit dem Grafen Paris erzahlt habe, 
und noch zuletzt das ganze Gesprach zwischen den drei Wach- 
tern. Dieses riicksichtslose Schneiden der letzten Scene erregt 
das Gefiihl der unzureichenden Motivierung, und zwingt ei- 
nen zu den Fragen: Warum ist Romeo jetzt so bereit zu 
kampfen, da er friiher so eifrig bemiiht war, einen Kampf zu 
verhindern? Was veranlaszt ihn den toten Paris neben Ju- 
liet zu legen? und endlich, warum sind der Monch und Bal- 
thasar nicht entflohen vor der Ankunft des Prinzen? 

Diese Liicken in dem Garrickschen Texte finden sich nicht 
bei dem Anonymus, denn er behalt die drei Stellen bei. 

Auch bei Garricks wichtigsten Abweichungen von Shake- 
speare, namlich bei der Auslassung von Rosaline und der Ein- 
fuhrung der neuen Scene mit dem Leichenzug, halt sich der 
tibersetzer an die ursprungliche Form des Dramas. 

Vergleichen wir folgende Stellen in den drei Texten : 

I, 2, resp. 4, "Rom. O heavy lightness; serious vanity! 
Misshapen chaos of wellseeming forms, 

This love feel I, that feel no love in this, 
Dost thou not laugh? ****** 
Rom. A right good mark-man! And she's fair I love, 
***** she'll not be hit 



Die Erste Deutsche Ubersetzung von "Romeo und Juliet" 47 

With Cupid's arrow, she hath Dian's wit; 
And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd, 
From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd. 



B. Be rul'd by me, forget to think of her." 

Shakespeare. 
Rom: 

Love, heavy lightness! serious vanity! 

Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms! 

This love feel I; but such my froward fate, 

That there I love where most I ought to hate. 

Dost thou not laugh, my friend? Oh, Juliet! Juliet! 

A right good marksman! and she's fair I love; 
But knows not of my love ; 'twas through my eyes, 
The shaft empierced my heart; chance gave the wound, 
Which time can never heal: no star befriends me; 
To each sad night succeeds a dismal morrow. 
And still 'tis hopeless love and endless sorrow. 
Mer: Be ruled by me, forget to think of her." 

Garrick. 

Romeo. 

"Liebe, zentnerschwares leichtes Wesen ! 
ernsthafte Eitelkeit! unformlichs Unding 
schon-scheinender Gestalten: dich fiihl ich, 
Und lachst du nicht, mein Vetter ! 



Vortrefflich im Erraten! Sie ist schon; 
Und spottet nur des Liebesgottes Pfeile; 
Sie hat Dianens Witz; die Keuschheit hat 
ihr Herz bewaffnet, und sie lachet nur 
ob discs Knabens kindisch-schwachem Bogen. 

Merkutio. 

Nun will ich sterben, ist's nicht Rosaline 
Lasz dich belehren; denk nicht mehr an sie." 

"Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's 
Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lov'st; 
With all th' admired beauties of Verona: 
Go thither and, with unattainted eye, 
Compare her face with some that I shall show, 
And I will make thee think thy swan a crow." 

Shakespeare. 

"Mer: I warrant thee, if thou'lt but stay to hear, 
To-night there is an ancient splendid feast, 
Kept by old Capulet our enemy, 



48 Miller 

Where all the beauties of Verona meet. 

Rom: At Capulet's! 

Mer: At Capulet's, my friend; 

Go there and with an unattainted eye, 

Compare her face with some that I shall show, 

And I will make thee think thy swan a raven." 

Garrick. 

"Merkutio. 

Ja, ich versichere dich. In diser Nacht 
speist Rosaline, welche du so liebest, 
beym Capulet, der eine Mahlzeit gibt; 
samt allem, was Verona schones hat, 
Komin, laszt us dort, doch in verstellter Tracht, 
ihr Angesicht mit anderen vergleichen, 
so wird selbst dir dein Schwan zum Raben werden." 

"Ben. Tut, tut, you saw her fair, none else being by" 

(Shakespeare und Garrick), 
heiszt in der Ubersetzung : 

"Die Rosaline was dir schbn, da niemand zugegen war;" 

"Rom. I fear, too early: for my mind misgives 
Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars, 
Shall bitterly begin his fearful date 
With this night's revels; and expire the term 
Of a despised life, clos'd in my breast, 
By some vile forfeit of untimely death: 
But He, that hath the steerage of my course, 
Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen!" 

Shakespeare. 

"Rom: I fear too early: for my mind misgives 
Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars, 
From this night's revels lead, gallant friends, 
Let come what may, once more will I behold 
My Juliet's eyes, drink deeper of affliction: 
I'll watch the time; and, masked from observation, 
Make known my sufferings, but conceal my name; 
Tho' hate and discord 'twixt our sires increase, 
Let in our hearts dwell love and endless peace." 

Garrick. 
Romeo.' 

Nur zu friihe, forcht ich: 
Es ahnet mir nichts gutes, das allein 
die Sterne wissen. Doch die,* so das Ruder 

* Hier ist es wohl Rosaline, "so das Ruder von meinem Lauffe fiihret." 



Die Erste Deutsche Ubersetzung von "Romeo und Juliet" 49 

von meinem Lauffe fiihret, leite mich! 
Kommt, gute Briider." 

Im 5. resp. 6. Auftritt desselben Aufzugs befmden sich fol- 
gende Stellen : 

"Rom. (to a servant) What lady's that, which doth enrich the hand 
Of yonder Knight? 

Servant. I know not, sir. 

Rom. The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand, 
And touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. 
Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! 
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night." 

Shakespeare. 

"Rom: Cousin Benvolio, do you mark that lady which 

Doth enrich the hand of yonder gentleman? 

Ben: I do. 

Rom: * 

I'll wait her to her place, 

And, touching hers, make happy my rude hand. 

Be still, be still, my fluttering heart." 

Garrick. 

"Romeo, zu einem Junker, 

Wer ist dort 
die Schb'ne, welche jenes Herren Hand ziert? 

Junker. 
Ich weisz es nicht, mein Herr. 

Romeo. 



Ich will ihr folgen: ihre zarte Hand 
musz meine gliicklich machen. Hat mein Herz 
wol je geliebt? Verschworet er ihr Augen, 
das euch bis jetz und schoners nicht begegnet." 

Spater in derselben Scene laszt Shakespeare, wie auch die 
Ubersetzung, Romeo fragen: 

"What is her mother?" und "Is she a Capulet?" 
wahrend Garrick die erste Frage dem Benvolio und die zweite 
dem Mercutio in den Mund legt. 

Im ersten Auftritt des zweiten Aufzugs kommt Rosalines 
Name bei Shakespeare und dem Ubersetzer vor: "I conjure 
thee by Rosaline's bright eyes," 

"Ich beschwor dich 

bey Rosalinens hellem Augenpare." 



50 Miller 

Dies andert Garrick in : 

"I conjure thee, by thy mistress's bright eyes." 

Im dritten Auftritt f allt die Frage des Monches : 

"wast thou with Rosaline r" 

bei Garrick, wie auch beim Deutschen aus. 
Spater sagt Friar Laurence : 

"Holy Saint Francis, what a change is here! 

Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear, 

So soon forsaken? ****** 

Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine 

Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline! 

If e'er thou wast thyself, and these woes thine, 

Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline: 



Rom. Thou chidd'st me oft for loving Rosaline. 

I pray thee, chide not: she whom I love now 
Doth grace for grace and love for love allow; 
The other did not so. 

Fri. L. ******** 
But come, young waverer." 

Shakespeare. 
Bei Garrick lautet die Stelle wie folgt : 

"Fri: Holy Saint Francis, what a change is this! 

But, tell me, son, and call thy reason home, 

Is not this love the offspring of thy folly, 

Bred from thy wantonness and thoughtless brain? 

Be heedful, youth, and see you stop betimes, 

Lest that thy rash ungovernable passions, 

O'erleaping duty, and each due regard, 

Hurry thee on, thro' short-liv'd, dear-bought pleasures, 

To cureless woes, and lasting penitence. 

Rom: I pray thee, chide me not; she, whom I love, 
Doth give me grace for grace, and love for love: 
Do thou, with Heav'n, smile upon our union; 
Do not withhold thy benediction from us, 
But make two hearts, by holy marriage, one. 

Fri: Well, come, my pupil," 

Dagegen steht in der tibersetzung : 

"Monch. 

Bey alien Heiligen! wie so verandert! 
1st Rosaline, welche du so zartlich 
geliebet hast, so bald von dir vergessen? 



Die Erste Deutsche TIbersetzung von "Romeo und Juliet" 51 

Behiite mit*! welche eine Tranenflutt 
nin Rosalinen waschte deine Wangen ! 
Du bist ganz anderst. 

Romeo. 

Du schaltest mich ja oft, 
Dasz ich die Rosaline liebte. 



Schilt mich nicht: 

Ich liebe Juliet, sie liebt mich wieder; 
Dis that die erstre nicht. 

Monch. 

Komm, Fluchtiger:" 

Ein einziges Mai erseheint der Name, Rosaline, auch bei 
Garrick (II, 4) aus Versehen wohl, denn die spateren Aus- 
gaben seiner Werke haben Juliet, statt Rosaline : 

"Why that same pale, hard-hearted wench that Rosaline, 
Torments him so that he will sure run mad," 

was der Deutsche natiirlich wortlich iibersetzt. 
III. Stil und literarischer Wert der tibersetzung. 

1. Die fiinffiissigen Jamben. 

Trotz des absprechenden Urteils der wenigen Zeitgenos- 
sen, die sich um das "Werk bekiimmert zu haben scheinen, und 
die "rauhen Verse" tadeln, musz man nach einem sorgfalti- 
gen und unbef angenen Studium desselben sagen : der Baseler 
weisz im groszen und ganzen die fiinffussigen Jamben mit Ge- 
schicklichkeit anzuwenden und in wohlklingenden Versen den 
Sinn des englischen Textes wieder zu geben. Nehmen wir 
zum Beispiel folgende wohlbekannte Zeilen aus dem zweiten 
Auf tritt des zweiten Aufzugs : 

"Du hast nichts feindliches, als deinen Namen: 
Was ligt am Namen? Nenne eine Rose 
wie du nur willst, sie riecht doch immer wohl: 
So ware Romeo, wenn er auch schon 
ganz anderst hiesze, immer gleich vollkommen. 
Entschlag dich deines Namens, Romeo, 
er ist kein Teil von dir, nimm statt desselben 
mich selbsten an"; 

oder folgende aus dem Selbstgesprach des Monches im drit- 

ten Auftritt des zweiten Aufzugs : 

"In diser kleinen Blume zarter Rinde 
wohnt Gift, und doch auch eine Heilungskraft. 



52 Miller 

Durch den Geruch erfreut es jeden Sinn, 

Durch den Geschmack verderbt es Here und Sinnen. 

So sind, wie in der Krauteren, zween Feinde 

im Menschen, Gnade und der rohe Wille: 

Wird diser meister, so erscheint die Raupe, 

der Tod, und friszt die Blume." 

2. Die Form der Anrede. 

Die gewb'hnliche Form der Anrede ist du, doch redet Ju- 
liet die Mutter oft in der dritten Person an, wie z. B. im fiinf- 
ten Auftritt des ersten Aufzugs, wo sie auf der Mutter Frage : 
' ' Sprich, wie gef allt dir denn des Paris Liebe ? ' ' antwortet : 

"Doch meiner guten Muter Augenwink 
wird mir hierinnen stets zur Richtschnur dienen." 

Zweimal wird die dritte Person Pluralis angewandt, und 
zwar im vierten Auftritt des zweiten Aufzugs, wo die Amme 
zu Romeo sagt: 

"Verzeihen sie mir, mein Herr;" 

und im sechsten Auftritt des dritten Aufzugs wo Paris spricht : 

"Gute Nacht 

Madam, empfehlen sie mich ihrer Tochter." 

3. Eigentiimliehkeiten des Stils. 

Man musz die zu haufige Anwendung des Relativsatzes an 
Stelle eines Adjektivs tadeln, da sie eine Wirkung der 
Schwache hervorbringt, die zuweilen ans Lacherliche grenzt. 
Zum Beispiel in dem ersten Auftritt des zweiten Aufzugs : 

"Ich beschwor dich 
bey Rosalinens hellem Augenpare, 
bey ihrer hohen Stirne, ihren Lippen, 
die scharlachrot sind." 

Im zweiten Auftritt finden wir f iir : ' ' and kill the envious 
moon," "und erstick den Mond, der voller Neid ist." 
"I must fill up this osier-cage of ours 
With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers" 

iibertragt er wie folgt : 

"Musz ich mir diesen unsern Weidenkasten 

mit gift'gen Krauteren und Blumen fiillen, 

die kostlich saftig sind." 
"Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds," 

wird zu: 

"Trabt hurtig fort, ihr Pferde, deren Fiisze 
von Feur sind." 



Die Erste Deutsche tibersetzung von "Romeo und Juliet" 53 

Juliets leidenschaftliche, beinahe wahnsinnige Rede, als 
sie mit der Nachricht iiberrascht wird, dasz Romeo ihren Vet- 
ter erschlagen hat, die folgendermaszen schlieszt: 

"O, that deceit should dwell 
In such a gorgeous palace !" 

laszt der Ubersetzer mit diesem Anticlimax auslauten : 

"Der Palast 
der prachtig ist, dient dem Betrug zur Wohnung." 

Die Worte des Monehes in der Gruft : 

"Ah, what an unkind hour 
Is guilty of this lamentable chance." 

finden folgende Wiedergabe : 

"O welche Ungliickstunde ist befleckt 
mit disem Wechsel, der entsetzlich ist." 

Von der sklavischen Treue, die Stadler an Wieland tadelt, 
die diesen besonders bei den kleinen "Wendungen der Um- 
gangssprache so oft zu undeutschen Ausdriicken verleitet, 
linden sich auch bei unserem Ubersetzer dann und wann Spu- 
ren, jedoch sind sie nicht sehr haufig. 

"I'm sorry that thou art so ill;" ^11, 5) heiszt: 
"Es tuht mir, liebe, liebe Amme leid, 
dasz du so schlecht bist." 

"What is the matter?" (IV, 5) (d. h. was gibt's?) = 
"Was ist die Ursache?", und "I say," (IV, 4) (horM) "ich 
sage. ' ' 

Zu diesen Unarten im literarischen Stil kommt noch ein 
Mangel an volliger Beherrschung der englischen Sprache sei- 
tens des Verfassers, der ihn hier und da zu wunderliehen Feh- 
lern veranlaszt. Weniger storend ist die falsche Wiedergabe 
von einzelnen Wortern, die jedoch haufiger vorkommt. 

Manche eigentiimliche Wendungen darf man wohl dem 
Baseler Dialekt oder dem Zeitalter zuschreiben, wie zum Bei- 
spiel: (I, 4) "der Schreiner Gribler" (the joiner squirrel or 
old grub.), und " Sonnenstaubgen " (atomies). (I, 5. resp. 6) 
"Granaugen" (corns), (II, 4), "Wortklepfer" (tuners of 
accents) "hauptguter Kerl" (good blade), "Modenfresser" 
(fashionmonger), "eine Katzenaugichte " (a gray eye or two), 
"Windfoche" (fan), "Wortkramer" (saucy Merchant) und 
(II, 6) "Ausstreichen" (blazon). 



54 Miller 

Folgende Stellen dagegen kann man nur durch Unkennt- 
nis oder einen Mangel an Sorgf alt erklaren : 

"Remember thy swashing blows" (I, 1) wird zu: "erin- 
nere dich deines blinkenden Schwertes", "part, fools", (das 
der "tfbersetzer wohl depart las), zu: "Flieht Dohren"; 
"neighborstained steel" heiszt ' ' nachbarliches Schwert" und 
"mistempered weapons", "die frechen Waff en." 

"Lammastide" (I, 3, resp. 5), die auf den ersten August 
fallt, also "Petri Kettenfeier" verwechselt er mit "St. Pe- 
terstulfeyer", das heiszt mit dem 18ten Januar. 

Fair: " 'twas no need I trow to bid me trudge" (bei Ge- 
legenheit des Erdbebens namlich) steht: "da dorfte man mir 
nicht einscharfen, sie (das Kind) einzuwiegen", und (I. 5. resp. 
6) fiir"ward" ( Minder jahriger) "Bube"; "dull earth" (II, 
1 ) heiszt "tolle Erde" und "the spirit of a fiend" (III, 4) "der 
Geist von einem Feinde". Hier hat wohl die Ahnlichkeit der 
englischen mit den deutschen Worter den t)bersetzer irre ge- 
macht. 

"Coil" (Verwirrung) erseheint als "Gerausch" (II, 5). 
"Runaway's eyes" oder "rude day's eyes" (III, 2. resp. 4), 
woriiber so viel gestritten worden ist, heiszt einfach "scheue 
Augen", und "the garish sun", "die beschamte Sonne." 

Falsche Auffassung eines ganzen Satzes kommt auch nicht 
selten vor. Die allgemeine Behauptung (I, 2) aus einigen 
von Garrick eingeschalteten Zeilen: "Friendship still loves 
to sort him with his like:" wird zu: "noch immer hielt er 
viele Freundschaft mit uns. " 

' ' I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes, 

God save the mark!" wovon die letzten vier Worte bei 
Garrick fehlen.) 
ist wiedergegeben durch: 

"Ich sah die Wunde, ja, mit eignen Augen. 
Dort, seines Zeichens, auf der schonen Brust." 
"Hei to high fortune" (II, 5) heiszt: 
"Heut sei das Gluck uns giinstig." 

Das Wunderlichste Misverstandnis ist wohl im 4. resp. 6. 
Auftritt des dritten Aktes zu finden; wo Capulet dem Freier 
Paris sagt: 

"I will make a desperate tender 
Of my child's love," 



Die Erste Deutsche ftbersetzung von "Eomeo und Juliet" 55 

was bei dem Ubersetzer, der tender wohl nur als Adjektiv 
kannte, folgendermaszen lautet : 

"Herr Paris, ich will meiner Tochter Liebe 
verzweifelt zartlich machen." 

Mehrere Male entstehen Fehler im Ubersetzen aus Uber- 
sehen der Interpunktion. 

Akt I, Scene III, (resp. V) ruft die Amme ihre junge 
Herrin mit den Worten: "What, lamb!, what, lady-bird " 
In der Ubersetzung aber sagt sie : ' ' welch lam ist sie. ' ' Das 
Komma fehlt aber bei Garrick, was den Irrtum erklarlich 
macht. 

Im 3. resp. 5. Auftritt des ersten Aufzugs kommt der Be- 
diente herein und meldet : 

"Madam, * * * you are called, my young lady asked 
for, the nurse cursed in the pantry", usw. 

Hier hat der Ubersetzer gelesen: "my young lady asked 
for the nurse ; ' ' daher finden wir : 

"Madam, * * * man mochte die gnadige Frau 
sprechen, das Fraulein fragt nach der Amme und flucht beym 
Speiseschranke : " was noch unsinniger ist, da Juliet und die 
Amme wahrend der ganzen Scene mit der Grafin auf der 
Buhne sind. 

Im vierten Auftritt des zweiten Aufzugs sagt Peter: "I 
saw no man use you at his pleasure: if I had, my weapon 
should quickly have been out, I warrant you;" was der 
Anonymus dadurch entstellt, dasz er das Komma nach weapon 
setzt : " if I had my weapon ; ' ' also ' ' Ich sage, noch niemand ist 
mit meiner Frauen nach seinem Willen umgegangen: hatte 
ich mein Schwert, so hatte ich geschwind vom Leder gezo- 
gen, ich versichere es." Schon der Widerspruch in den bei- 
den Behauptungen hatte den Ubersetzer zurechtweisen sol- 
len, denn wenn niemand mit der Frau "nach seinem Willen 
umgegangen ist, ' ' wie Peter sagt, warum sollte er das Schwert 
ziehen ? 

Wo die Mutter (III, 5, resp. 8) auf Juliet's Frage: "Ma- 
dam, in happy time, what is that ? ' ' antwortet : 

"Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn", usw., 
steht in der Ubersetzung als Widergabe fur den Ausruf, 
"marry." "Ein Hochzeittag, mein Kind," "How now? a 



56 Miller 

conduit, girl?" heiszt "Wie, Madgen, heiszt dises Lebens- 
art?" Sollte der Ubersetzer vielleicht conduct gelesen haben? 
"But fettle (oder wie bei Garrick settle) your fine joints 
'gainst Thursday next, ' ' lautet : 

bis auf den Donnerstag 
mach alles, was du schones hast, bereit." 

Die Behandlung der schweren Redensarten und Wort- 
spiele ware vielleicht einzeln zu betrachten. Ein paar mal 
laszt der Ubersetzer eine ihm unverstandliche Stelle einfach 
weg; z. B. in der ersten Scene, fallen die Worte: "Quarrel, I 
will back thee" aus, dafiir steht: "aber, aber, aber." 

Merkutios Rede (III, 1) war ihm auch teilweise zu schwer, 
denn: 

"O calm, dishonourable, vile submission ! 
Ha! la stoccata carries it away Tibalt you rat-catcher." 

lautet : 

"Welch eine schandlich ehrvergessene 
Zufriedenheit ist dises? Tibalt, ha!" 
"A peevish, self-will'd harlotry it is" (IV, 2) heiszt: 
"sie ist ein storrisch, eigensinnig " 

Hier f allt die Amme dem Capulet in die Rede mit : 

"Herr! 
schau, sie kommt wirklich von der Beicht zuriick." 

"Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?" (I, 1) lautet: 
Beissest du wegen uns in den Daumen, mein Herr?" 

"A fortnight and odd days (I, 3, resp. 5) findet folgende 
ratselhafte Wendung: "Vierzehn und etliche ungerade Ta- 
ge ; " wozu der Verf asser sich wohl genotigt f uhlte dureh das 
Wortspiel in der Amme Antwort : ' ' Gerad oder ungerad. Pe- 
ters Stulfeyer mag nun in einem Tage des Jahres kommen, 
wenn es will", usw. 

Hier iibersetzt Schlegel: "Ein vierzehn Tag' und drii- 
ber", mit der Antwort: "Nun, driiber oder drunter." 

Der Grusz: "God (oder good) you good den" (II, 4) war 
dem Baseler wohl ganz unverstandlich, denn er ersetzt die 
Stelle mit: "Groszen Dank, Dank! schone Madam." 

Doch weisz der Unbekannte, sich nicht selten sehr geschickt 
iiber schwere Stellen hinweg zu helfen. Betrachten wir fol- 
gende Worte von Merkutio: (II, 1) 



Die Erste Deutsche ffbersetzimg von "Romeo und Juliet" 57 

"Nay, I'll conjure too, 

Why, Romeo! humor! madman! passion! lover! 
Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh. 
Speak but one rhyme, and I'm satisfy'd. 
Cry but ah me! couple but love and dove, 
Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word, 
One nick-name to our purblind son and heir;" 

wo die Ubersetzung lautet: 

"Im ruffen! Ja, er soil beschworen seyn: 
Wie, Romeo ! Liebhaber ! Wahnsinn ! Lust ! 
erschein in der Gestalt von einem Seufzer; 
Ich bin zufrieden, wenn du nur ein Wort sprichst; 
Schrey nur "Ach mir!" und reime was zur Liebe, 
ist es gleich nur das bange Wort "betriibe." 
Sprich nur ein Wort zu der Gevater Venus, 
Und nenne ihren kleinen blinden Sohn 
bey einem kleinen Namen"; 

oder "I'll to my trucklebed", wo er das Ubersetzen des letzten 
Wortes venneidet, indera er die Stelle folgendermaszen wie- 
dergibt : 

"ich geh zu schlafen, wo ich gewohnet bin." 

In der vierten Scene finden sich folgende schwere Stel- 
len: "Mer: Oh, he's the courageous captain of compliments; 
he fights as you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, and pro- 
portion; rests his minim one, two and the third in your 
bosom ; the very butcher of a silk button, a duellist, a duellist ; 
a gentlemen of the very first house, of the first and second 
cause ; ah the immortal passado, the punto reverse, the hay 

The pox of such antick lisping affected phantasticoes, 
these new tuners of accents: Jesu, a very good blade a 
very tall man a very good whore Why, is not this a lament- 
able thing, grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with 
these strange flies, these fashion mongers, these pardonnez 
moi's?" 

Daf iir in der Ubersetzung : 

"O er ist der beherzteste Hauptmann im Complimenten- 
machen ; das Fechten kommt ihm so leicht an, als dir ein Lied 
abzusingen ; er nimmt Zeit, Ort und Gelegenheit in Acht ; er 
halt seinen halben Schlag aus, eins, zwey, und der dritte in 
deine Brust; wenn es aufs Morden ankommt, so schont er 
keinem seidenen Knopf e; ein rechter Eisenfresser. " Hier 
fallen zwei Zeilen aus. 



58 Miller 

"Der Gukuk hole solche Piekelharinge, solche lispelnde, 
affektirte und phantastische Grillenf anger, solche neuen Wort- 
klepfer Furwahr ein hauptguter Kerl ein recht schlanker 
Mann eine sehr gute Hure Wie? Groszvater! 1st es nicht 
etwas erbarmungswurdiges, dasz wir keine Ruhe haben kon- 
nen vor solchen seltsamen Mucken, disen Modenfressern, di- 
sen Pardonnez moy's?" 

In demselben Auf tritt steht fiir : 

"one Paris, that would fain lay knife abroad," 

' ' ein gewisser Paris, der wollte sich gern mausig machen. ' ' 
4. Selbstandigkeit des Dbersetzers. 

In dieser Beziehung miissen wir zunachst die Frage naher 
betrachten, ob der Garricksche Text vom Jahre 1750 wirklich 
der erste Druck seiner Bearbeitung ist, wie Joseph Knight 
in seiner Biographic "David Garrick" behauptet. 

Das einzige, was Zweifel dariiber erregen kb'nnte, ist, dasz 
Lowndes in seiner Bibliographic eine Ausgabe vom Jahre 
1748 angibt. Ich habe aber trotz langen Suchens keine Spur 
von einer solchen Ausgabe entdecken konnen weder in den 
Bibliographien noch in den 6'ffentlichen Bibliotheken Eng- 
lands. A. Capel Shaw, Oberbibliothekar an der "Free Li- 
brary" zu Birmingham, (die bekanntlich eine der besten 
Sammlungen von Shakespeare-Schriften besitzt) schrieb da- 
riiber als Antwort auf eine dies beziigliche Anf rage : ' ' Lown- 
des is notoriously inaccurate in the Shakespeare section ; ' ' 
und "William E. Doubleday, Oberbibliothekar an der "Central 
Library" in Hampstead, driickt sich in einem Brief e vom vo- 
rigen Jahre folgendermaszen aus: "It certainly seems as if 
Lowndes had assigned 1748 to the undated edition which the 
British Museum ascribes to 1750; and I feel pretty sure that 
this is so." Wenn aber eine Ausgabe vom Jahre 1748 je ex- 
istierte, so diirfen wir annehmen, dasz die Anspielungen auf 
Rosaline noch darin zu finden waren, und auch dasz der Lei- 
chenzug noch nicht dargestellt wurde. Denn der Titel des Tex- 
tes vom Jahre 1750 lautet wie folgt: "Romeo and Juliet. By 
Shakespeare. With Alterations and an additional Scene, As 
it is performed at the Theatre-Royal in Drury Lane. ' ' 

Und im "Advertisement" am Anfang dieser Ausgabe 
steht folgende Erklarung: 



Die Erste Deutsche Vbersetzung von "Romeo und Juliet" 59 

"When this play was revived two Winters ago, it was gen- 
erally thought, that the sudden change of Romeo's Love from 
Rosaline to Juliet was a Blemish in his Character, and there- 
fore it is to be hop'd that an Alteration in that Particular 
will be excused; the only Merit that is claim 'd from it, is 
that it is done with as little Injury to the Original as pos- 
sible." 

1750, also, macht Garrick auf die neue Scene aufmerksam, 
die wohl bei seiner ersten Fassung (1748) fehlte; auch sagt 
er ausdriicklich, dasz die Rosaline bei der Auffiihrung im 
Jahre 1748 noch nicht ausgelassen wurde. Hier hatte unser 
tibersetzer also das Vorbild fiir sein Verfahren in diesen bei- 
den Punkten: dennoch ist die Moglichkeit eines Druckes vom 
Jahre 1748 so gering, dasz wir es fur beinahe festgestellt hal- 
ten diirfen: der Baseler hat sich nicht ausschlieszlich an den 
englischen Schauspieler gehalten, sondern Shakespeares Tra- 
godie in urspriinglicher Form auch in den Handen ge- 
habt, und an vielen Stellen deren ttberlegenheit iiber Gar- 
ricks "perversion" derselben erkannt. Besonders musz man 
es ihm hoch anrechnen, dasz er dem Urteil seiner Zeitgenos- 
sen so weit voraus war, was das Beibehalten der Rosaline 
anbetrifft. Dabei geht er, wie wir schon gesehen haben, ganz 
consequent zu Werke, verliert seine Aufgabe nie aus den Au- 
gen und versucht dennoch dem Garrick mb'glichst treu zu 
bleiben, indem er ein paarmal selbst einige Worte einschal- 
tet. Auch bei naherer Betrachtung der anderen Stellen, wo 
er yon Garrick abwich, um Shakespeare zu folgen, mussen 
wir ihm jedesmal den guten Geschmack zuerkennen, worauf 
er im Titel Anspruch macht. 

Freilich darf man die vielen tibersetzungsfehler nicht 
auszer Acht lassen; diese sind aber fast ohne Ausnahme auf 
Unkenntniss der englischen Sprache zuriickzufiihren und 
waren bei einem Ubersetzer des 18ten Jahrhunderts schon eher 
zu entschuldigen, da es damals an griindlichen englisch-deut- 
schen Worterbiichern und Grammatiken fehlte und geschaft- 
licher und gesellschaftlicher Verkehr zwischen Deutschland 
und England sehr beschrankt war. 

Ernst Stadlers Erklarung* von dem " unverschuldeten 
Schicksal, das die Wielandsche Shakespeare-Dbersetzung be- 

* "Wielands Shakespeare," Quellen und Forschungen, CVII, 1910. 



60 Miller 

troffen hat", diirfte auch fiir die Baseler tibersetzung von 
"Romeo und Juliet" gelten. "Auch die vollkommenste 
tibersetzung, " schreibt Stadler, "ist an die Geschmaeks- und 
Gefiihlsbedingungen ihrer Zeit gebunden und wird wertlos 

in dem Augenblick, wo diese Bedingungen hinf allig werden. ' ' 

*###***##*** 

"Entstanden auf der Grenzscheide zweier Generationen zu ei- 
ner Zeit, wo bereits vielfaehe Anzeichen das Heraufkommen ei- 
nes neuen Geschlechtes verkiindeten, das sich in seiner Art zu 
denken und zu empfmden in leidenschaftlichem Gegensatz zu 
der alteren Generation befangen fuhlte," war es der Baseler 
tibersetzung wie auch der Wielandschen unmoglich, festen 
Fusz zu f assen ; sie konnten weder die alte noch die neue Ge- 
neration zufrieden stellen. 

Dennoch wagen wir es, die Meinung auszusprechen : trotz 
aller Mangel hat der Baseler bei seinen Zeitgenossen nicht 
voile Gerechtigkeit gefunden. Sicherlich diirfen wir ihm 
Selbstandigkeit, ein gesundes Urteil und einen tiefen Ernst 
nicht absprechen. Seine Ubersetzung von "Romeo und Ju- 
liet" ist und bleibt eine wiirdige Arbeit, die doch wesentlich 
dazu beigetragen hat, Deutschland mit Englands grosztem 
Dramatiker bekannt zu machen. 

ANNA ELIZABETH MILLER. 

Smith College, May, 1911. 



The Gautland Cycle of Sagas 61 



THE GAUTLAND CYCLE OF SAGAS. 



I. THE SOURCE OF THE POLYPHEMOS EPISODE OF 
THE HR6LFSSAGA GAUTREKSSONAR. 



In his valuable introduction to the Hrolfssaga Gautreks- 
sonar l Detter demonstrated that this saga is an independent 
literary product, the work of an author who knew and made 
extensive use of many Fornaldarsagas. In particular, the 
episode Frd risa is shown to be a working over of the Poly- 
phemos story current in the North. 

As regards the occurrence of this motif in Norse popular 
tradition, Nyrop 2 had called attention to the striking resem- 
blances between the stories of Egil's, and of a monk's escape, 
in the Egilssaga einhenta 3 and legend No. ccxvii of the Mariu 
saga, 4 respectively; and the Greek story as known from 
Homer. The foundation for the comparative study of this 
motif had then already been laid by Wilhelm Grimm in his 
famous essay "Die Sage von Polyphem" 5 in which particular 
stress was laid on the Norwegian tale of "Troldene paa He- 
dalsskoven. ' ' 6 Boer 7 then observed traces of this motif in 
the adventures of Orvar Odd with the giants of B jarmaland ; 
and, lately, Andrews 8 in the Hdlfs saga. 9 To these Hack- 
mann, in his comprehensive treatise ' ' Die Polyphemsage in der 
Volksiiberlieferung" 10 has added a number of undoubted pa- 
rallels. 

1 Zwei Fornaldarsogur, Halle 1891. 

2 Nord. Tidsskrift f. Fil. 1881. 

* Fornaldarsogur Nortirlanda (Fas.) vol. III. 

4 Unger, Christiania 1871. 

5 Kleinere Schriften, IV, 428. 

* With good reasons excluded from Polyphemos stories by Hackmann, 
infra, p. 4. 

1 Arkiv viii, 97. 

8 Halfs Saga ok Halfsrekka, Halle 1909. 

8 The hurling of a glowing snoerispjot into the eye of the brunnmigl 
is to be reckoned, however, to the primitive notion of driving off sinister 
beings with the friendly element of fire. Cf. Meyer, Germanische My- 
thologie, 175, 135, 264. 

10 Helsingfors, 1904. 



62 Hollander 

It will thus be seen that Scandinavian popular tradition 
has its share in this, one of the oldest and most widely spread 
stories* in the world, known and told from Sicily and Greece 
to Iceland, and from Ireland and Portugal to the steppes of 
the wild Khirgis near the Chinese Wall. But, whatever be 
the ultimate origin and source of the story, transmission by 
learned agencies seems probable in the case of the Northern 
versions. 

The author of the Hrolfssaga Gautrekssonar the Poly- 
phemos episode of which I propose to examine here doubt- 
less was a well-read cleric who set himself to compose a story 
about the life and deeds of the (legendary) king Hrolf of 
Gautland. The main feature of the plot are three wooing- 
expeditions, each more dangerous than the preceding; and 
all gloriously successful after the necessary reverses, to add 
zest by the resourcefulness of Hrolf. One can almost watch 
the author in his endeavor to introduce variety into his scheme 
by weaving into the story adventures that nearly run the 
gamut of the usual stock-in-trade of the teller of Fornaldar- 
sogur, both NorSrlanda and SuSrlanda; yet not without an 
occasional sally into thorough-going realism (cf. chap. 32 
drdp kerlingar). Nor is he unsuccessful in an humorous sit- 
uation, as when telling about the make-belief troll, porir 
jarnskjold, who maroons Hrolf irakonung and all his host 
in his beer-hall, causing him to sitja ]>ar i }>ot um dag, but does 
not fool the clever princess Ingibjorg. Moreover, each event 
is plausibly motivated as Fornaldarsogur go. 

In the course of their earlier cruises Hrolf and his com- 
panions have slain the evil viking Grimar after a terrible bat- 
tle. Subsequently, when eastward bent to GarSarike, on his 
brother's war-like wooing-expedition, Hrolf 's dragon-ship is 
separated from the rest of the fleet by a magic storm and 

*The story (in its theoretically fullest form), reduced to the simplest 
terms, has the following points: 

1) A man is kept in durance by a (one-eyed) giant. 

2) He blinds the giant. 

3) He escapes (by secreting himself under a ram). 

4) The giant in his turn vainly endeavors to outwit him. 

Cf. Hackmann, I.e. 160 if. Handbook of Folk Lore (G. L. Gomme), 
slot,' 'Fugl Dam,' etc. 



The Gautland Cycle of Sagas 63 

driven on an island. The king, accompanied by his foster 
brother Asmund and ten warriors, disembarks in order to 
explore the country, bidding his crew await them the while. 1 

Eptir J?at gengu J?eir upp a eyna; var J?at mikit land ok 
skogott. peir f undu einn skala a eyna ; var hann baefti miMll 
ok rammgerr ok ei ]?6ttuz J?eir sett haf a jafnhatt hus ; hurSir 
voru aptr. BaS konungr ]?a uppletta; )?eir hljopu a hurSina 
ymsir ok geek engum upp. Konungr geek J?a at ok hratt upp 
meS annari hendi, gengu siSan inn ok lituSuz um ok fundu 
J?ar eld ok brugSu a skitSi ok baru um skalann. Sa }?eir, at ei 
skorti ]?ar allzkonar varning ; seeing var J?ar bum harSla vel ok 
storliga mikil. Konungr lagSiz niSr i saengina ok sa hann, 
J?6tt annar legSiz niSr til motz viS hann, at ]?6 var saengin synu 
meiri. pottuz J?eir vita, at J?at mundi eigi smamenni vera, 
er J?ar atti forrasSi a. J?ar var ein sula fyrir framan sa3ngina 
upp undir asinn ok a ofanverbri sulunni heck eit sverS mikit 
ok sva hatt uppkomit, at Hrolf r konungr feck hvergi nser tekit 
neSan til. 

Chap. 22. Hrolf asks his men whether they would care to 
stay over night with him, ok her bi5a bonda, )?ess her a forraS, 
ok haatta til, hversu hann er heim at hitta. As they bravely 
leave the decision to him en kvaSuz ecM fusir at biSa he 
sends back six of them. 

Nu er at segja Hrolfi konungi, at ]?eir sitja vi8 eld um 
kveldit ok er aleiS, heyra J?eir dunar miklar ut ok J>vi naest 
gengr ]?ar inn maSr. UndruSu ]?eir eigi, J?6at skalinn vaari 
mjok uppfaerSr, j>viat ofarliga bar hann sitt hofuS. Var J?at 
inn hraeSiligsta risi ; ecki var hann sva illiligr, at ei mastti um 
]?at hraefa, )?ess er hann var ]>6 mjok storskorinn i andliti. Vel 
var hann ok buinn at klaeSum; hann hafSi einn hvitabjorn a 
baki ok boga i hendi harSla rammligan. Akafliga var hann 
m68r, ok 6at aetluSu ]?eir, at hann mundi lengra hafa atgengit 
en ]?ar um eyna. Hann gengr at eldinum 65rum megin ok 
kastar ni$r birninum. Ecki kveSr hann konunginn ok hvari- 
gir tala J?ar viS a5ra. Sundrar hann bjorninn skjott ok fim- 
liga ; siSan f estir hann ketil upp ok syftr. Eptir J?at byr hann 
bort5 ok berr a vist ; alt )?6tti J?eim ]?at ok vel skipat. Eptir }>at 

1 P. 33 (as all the following quotations from the Hrolfsaga Gaut- 
rekssonar Hr.) of Better's edition. 



64 Hollander 

tekr harm til matar ok etr ok drekr (heldr frekliga), ok er 
hann er mettr, berr hann braut alt, J?at sem hann Ieif5i, 
ok byr si8an borSit i annat sinn vel ok kurteisliga, setr fram 
niunnlaug meS handklae8i. Eptir ]?at tekr hann til or6a : J?at er 
raS, Hrolfr konungr ! at ganga til matar ; em ek ecki sva aumlatr 
at ek tima eigi, at gefa nockurum monnum mat, >6at mik saeki 
heim um malsakir, ]?6at otignari se en )?er eru5. Eru8 )?er 
agaetari menn en flestir a6rir fyrir morg snildarverk, er J?er 
hafiS unnit umf ram aSra Kommga. Konung segir : ]?etta er vel 
boSit ok mikilmannliga, en baeSi ger6um ver aSr, 1 at eta ok 
drecka en ver gengum fra skipum ; Jmrfum ver ei l at agirnaz 
mat J?inn ne dryck. 

With grim humor the giant retorts that, in very truth, 
they merit a different treatment than hospitality; for he is 
Grimar's brother and has caused the storm in order to wreak 
dire vengeance on them, with which he proceeds forthwith. 

Risinn skytr i eld jarngaddi miklum ok var klofinn i en- 
dann annan [sem tveir vseri mjok hvassir]. Var J?at geigvaen- 
ligt feri ok er }?at var glonda, sva at alia vega sindraSi af. 
]>& bra hann J?vi upp ok rak i gegnum tva fylgSarmenn Hrolf s 
konungs, ]?a er satu ut fra Asmundi. Hann bra J?eim a lopt 
ok kastaSi innar um eldinn ; f engu J?eir skjotan bana. Me8 J?einl 
haatti let hann f ara aSra tva, )?a er utar satu fra konungi og syn- 
duz j?eim na?r sex oddanir a J?essu faari, er hann skok ]?at. pa 
maelti risinn : ecki skal J?er bana, Hrolfr konungr ! me8 J?essum 
ha3tti, sem litilshattar monnum ; skulu6 J?it f ostbrasSr lif a i nott, 
skal ek hafa gaman af yckr a morginn ok kvelja mjok til bana. 
Hrolfr konungr kvaS frest illz best ok kvez gjarna sem lengst 
lifa vilja, en eigi annan dauSdaga mundu si6r kjosa en J?enna. 
Eptir J?at byz risinn til svefns, geek aftr til ok skeldi hurftinn i 
klofa; hann var farmoSr ok sofna5i skjott. pa maglti Hrolfr 
konungr: hversu J?ikkiz J?u kominn, fostbroSir? Asmund 
segir : heldr ilia, segir hann, J?icki mer troll ]?etta ilt vi6 at eiga 
ok eigi haagt til orrasSa. Konungr segir: aldri mun sa ovinr 
fyrirkoma ockr, ok mun nockut annat fyrirliggja. Konungr 
tok }?a skiS eitt ok skeldi a ]?ilit hja ser ; risinn vaknaSi ok ba8 
Ja liggja kyrra ; ella kvez hann mundu sla J^a i hel. Eptir )?at 
sofnar risinn. Hrolfr Konungr skellir enn ski5unni i annat 

1 Commas misplaced in Better's text. 




65 

sinn, risinn sneriz a aSra hliS ok talaSi j?a ecki urn ok sofnafti 
fast. Konungr skeldi it J?ri6ja sinn miklu skjallast ; vaknaSi 
risinn J?a ecki vi$. 

ch. 23. Hrolfr konungr maelti : nu skal f ara at meS raSi. Vil- 
da ek fyrst geta natt sverftinu, J?aetti mer likligt, at )?at mundi 
bita risann. 

They are successful in reaching the coveted sword, pa 
maelti konungr: nti vaenkaz ockart mal mjok; skal nu meS 
raSi atfara. Skaltu reka i eldinn jarntein ]?essa ok gera 
gloandi ; vilda ek, at }?u leitaSir at faera jarnteina Ipesst i augu 
risans i ]>vi er ek legg sverSinu a honum, ok ef sva berr til, 
forftum ockr sem skjotast innar um saengina. Hrolfr konungr 
Gautreksson bregSr nu sverSinu ok syniz, sem var, agastr 
gripr. Konungr hafSi kefli eitt i hendi, gengr nu at saenginni 
djarfliga, [flettir upp klasSum ok syndiz hann harSla fjand- 
liga. Konungr leggr sverSinu a honum undir hb'ndina sva 
fast, at J?egar geek i gegnum hann ok jafnskjott f aerdi Asmundr 
jarnteinana gloandi i augu honum ok eptir J?at skunduftu 
J?eir i braut. Konungr kastaSi J?a keflinu utar til dyra ok kom i 
skiSahlaSann ok skall mjok viS. Risinn hljop upp hart ok 
utar til dyranna ok falmaSi hondunum, hugSi, at J?eir mundi 
J>angat hlaupit hafa ok aetlaSi at kreista )?a meS engri vaegft. 
En me8 greypiligum sarum ok umfangi miklu fellr hann ut a 
hurSina, sva at hon brotna5i [i sman mola.] peir gengu 
)?a at ok borftu risann me8 storum trjam J?ar til hann do, ok 
var honum heldr mikit til f jors. Etc. 

Though fairly consistently and, at any rate, well told, this 
episode will be seen to have been cleverly concocted from two 
(or more) disparate sources. 

The one is the Vatsdcelasaga. The first chapters of this 
family chronicle deal as usual in the Islendingasogur with 
the antecedents in Norway of the lordly race of the Vatsdal. 
A solitary robber has been rendering the way through the 
Jamtlandsforest unsafe, even for larger parties. The peas- 
ants begin to mutter and make reflections on the inability of 
their chieftain, Ketil raum, to protect them. The aging 
father, on his part, eggs on his son porstein not a war-like 
man, though a gcefumaftr to uphold the traditions of the 
family by performing nokkur framaverk. porstein takes the 



66 Hollander 

hint and, one day, leaves the house and rides toward the great 
forest. 

1 Hann hepti hest sinn vi5 skoginn, ok sifcan i hann ok 
fann afstig einn, er la af JnoSgotunni : ok sem hann hafSi 
lengi gengit, fann hann i skoginum hus mikit ok vel gert. 
porsteinn J?6ttiz vita, at J?etta herbergi mundi sa eiga, er 
stigana haffti bannat, huart sem )?eir varu einn eSa fleiri. 
Sidan gekk porsteinn inn i skalann, ok fann )?ar storar Mstur 
ok mart til gaeSa. por var skida(hla5i) mikill en annars 
vegar vara i sekkum ok alzkyns varningr. par sa hann rekkiu 
eina, hon var miklu meiri enn nokkur sseng, er porsteinn haf 5i 
fyrr sed, J>6tti honum sa aerit har, er )?etta rum var matuligt. 
Bekkian var vel tiolduS; }?ar var ok borS buit meft hreinum 
dukum ok heiSrligum krasum ok hinum bezta drykk. Eigi 
gerSi porsteinn at ]?essum hlutum ; ~ He then hides himself 
between the sacks in the store-room. 

SiSan heyrSi hann ut dyn mikinn er a leiS kveldit, ok 
si5an kom inn ma8r ok leiddi eptir ser hest; sia ma6r var 
harSla mikill, huitr var hann a har, ok fell )?at a herSar me6 
f 6'grum lokkum. porsteini synSiz maSrinn vera hinn f riSasti ; 
si6an kueykti ]?essi maSr upp eld fyrir ser en leiddi at5r hest 
sinn til stallz; hann setti munnlaug fyrir sik, ok ]?uo sik, ok 
]?er5i a huitum duk. Hann rendi ok af verpli vsenan drykk i 
stort stettarker ok tok siSan til matar. Allt syn^iz porsteini 
athaefi pessa mannz merkiligt ok miok haeversligt: miklu var 
hann meiri maSr enn Ketill faSir hanns, ok J?6tti hann, sem 
var, manna mestr. Ok er skalabuinn var mettr, set hann vi5 
eld- 
He suspects, from the appearance of the gledes, that some- 
body has been there but a short while ago, and searches the 
house carefully; but in vain, because porstein manages to 
conceal himself in a chimney; and because, forsooth, "an- 
other fate was granted unto him, than to be killed. ' ' 

The robber gives up the search, with forebodings of im- 

1 Quotations from Vatnsdoelasaga (= Vts) according to Vigfusson's 
edition, p. 5, in 'Fornsogui'. Leipzig 1860: 

s Vigfusson, Orig. Isl., II, p. 276: " somehow wrong; then a 

clause is missing, to tell how he kindled the fire to warm himself, with- 
out however touching anything on the table." 



The Gautland Cycle of Sagas 67 

pending retribution. SftSan gekk harm aptr til huilunnar ok 
tok af ser saxit. Sua synftiz porsteini, sem J?at vseri in mesta 
gersimi ok all-likligt til biz, ok gerSi ser f>at i hug at duga 
mundi ef hann naeSi saxinu. 

He anxiously weighs in his mind whether he ought to 
Mil the man in his sleep. His appearance had aroused por- 
stein's sympathy; but his father's egging prevails over his 
scruples. 

SiSan sofnar skalabui, en porsteinn gerir tilraun meS nok- 
kuru harki, hue fast hann suaefi ; hann vaknafti viS ok sneriz a 
hliS, ok enn lei$ stund, ok gerSi porsteinn tilraun aftra ok 
vaknaSi hann enn viS ok J?6 minnr. Hit ]?ri5ia sinn gekk por- 
steinn fram ok drap mikit hogg a rumstokkin ok fann at J>a 
var allt kyrt um hann. SiSan kueykti porsteinn log og gekk 
at rekkiunni, ok vil vita, ef hann vaeri a brautu. porsteinn ser 
at hann liggr J?ar, ok suaf i silkiskyrtu gullsauma8ri ok horfSi 
(i) lopt upp. porsteinn dra J?a saxinu ok lagSi fyrir briost 
enum mikla manni ok veitti honum mikit sar. pessi brast vi8 
fast ok )?reif til porsteins ok kipti honum upp i rumit hia 
ser, en saxit st66 i sarinu en sua fast haffti porsteinn til 
lagit at oddrinn st68 i be65inn, en J?essi maSr var farrammr 
ok let )?ar standa saxit sem kommit var, en porsteinn la i milli 
]?ilis ok hans. 

The remainder of the story does not concern us here, ex- 
cepting in so far as we take note that it bears a vital connec- 
tion with this episode. The dying robber, who turns out to 
be Jokull, son of the earl of Gautland, does not revenge him- 
self ; but, in the contrary, recognizing porsteinn to be a gcefu- 
maftr, binds him by promise to journey personally to Gaut- 
land and inform his parents about his life and death, and 
to ask for the hand of the earl's heiress! This task, aston- 
ishing and mtirchenhaft as it seems, porsteinn courageously and 
successfully performs. 

The verbal and phrasal similarities between the passages 
quoted are so many and so close that there is not much room 
for doubt that the author of Hr. was intimately familiar with 
this part of Vts. perhaps even had some version of this saga 



68 Hollander 

lying before him. 1 Yet, as all depends on the weight of the 
evidence, I shall subject the similarities to detailed scrutiny. 

1) The adversary's abode is, in either case, within a great 
forest. No significance is to be attached to this particular 
agreement by itself. A wooded island is (as e. g. in Homer, 
Sindbad the Sailor) the traditional haunt of the ogre of the 
Polyphemos type also in Scandinavian folklore. 2 Just as 
traditionally do the stigamenn or uthlaupsmenn and illvir- 
kiar, as they are called in Vts. infest the inland forests. Our 
author (Hr.) had sufficient discrimination to adhere to his 
tradition which, as with the seafaring nations of Greece, Per- 
sia, and India, makes an island the home of the Cyclopes. 

2) Both Jokull and the giant dwell in well-made tim- 
ber-houses (Vts. : hus mikit ok vel gert, afterwards called 
skdla; Hr. : skdla, bafii mikill o krammgerr). We know bet- 
ter: the normal out-and-out troll of Scandinavian folklore is 
unthinkable in such well organized surroundings. Represent- 
ing a lower and cruder order of things, he is at home generally 
undir hellinum. 

3) In both stories, the unusual size of the house and the 
bed are very particularly noticed. Jo'kul's bed is ''much 
larger than any porsteinn had seen before, and a very tall 
man indeed, he thought, was he for whom this bedstead was 
meet." To Hrolf and his companions "it seemed that they 
had never seen so high a house. ' ' The giant 's bed is ' ' extra- 
ordinarily big. The king laid himself down on the bed and 
saw that, even though another man laid himself down against 
him, the bed was considerably longer (i. e. more than two 
men's length). They were of the opinion that it wasn't a 
small person who owned these premises." After they have 
made the acquaintance of the giant ' ' they do not wonder \>6at 
skdlinn var mjok uppfcerftr." 

4) The bed is in either case hung with curtains (Vts. 
Rekkian var vel tidlduft). To be sure, we are not told so in 

1 Which were nothing unusual. Cf. e. g. Snorri's copying of Eirikr 
Oddson's Hryggjarstykki (Heimskr. 736 B ), and the mannjofnaSr in the 
Orvar Oddssaga, following the one of Sigurd and Eystein, ch. 21. On 
the question cf. Cederschiold, Gott. G. A. 1892; 709. 

2 Cf. Hackmann, 1. c. passim. 



69 

Hr. ; but it is very suspicious (as the action is worse than pur- 
poseless) when we are told that the king stripped the giant 
of his clothes** before delivering the blow that is to free them. 
Very likely, the author had in mind the passage in Vts. where 
porsteinn discovers that Jokull ' ' lies there and slept in a gold- 
embroidered silk shirt and lay on his back," when he ap- 
proaches the bed (and lifts the curtains?) to see whether he 
was still there. 

5) Contrary to the general custom of their kind, both 
highwayman and giant are excellent housekeepers. Their 
dwellings are clean, they cook their meals in an orderly fash- 
ion, 1 have decent table-manners and, after the manner of the 
nobility, use finger-bowl and towel. The verbal parallelism 
here is unmistakable. This is all the more noteworthy since, 
to my knowledge, there is no similar scene anywhere in the 
sagas : there are no stereotype phrases. 

6) It may be worth while to point out that in neither 
case do the visitors partake of the good things seen (or of- 
fered.)* They only kindle a fire on the hearth while awaiting 
the arrival of the proprietor. Of course, in accordance with 
the later taste, king Hrolf cannot conceal himself as porsteinn 
does, later on, without in the least losing 'face.' 

7) A great din announces the return of the owner of 
the house. Vts. : Then he heard a great noise without, as 
evening came on, and then in came a man etc. ' ' Hr. : ' ' They 
sit by the fire in the evening, and as it grew later they hear a 
great noise without, and thereupon in comes a man etc." 
That porsteinn should hear Jokul's approach as a great noise 
is natural enough, for the robber returns leading after him a 
horse laden with fresh booty, we suppose and their steps 
resound on the floor of the shed in the stillness of the woods. 
Moreover, porsteinn is tense with expectation as to what sort 
of man the outlaw may turn out to be. The giant, on the 
other hand, as we shall presently see, is an exceptionally well- 

**Or, 'bed-clothes'; ch. Kolbing, Fldres Saga ok Bl&nkiflur, Halle 
1896 ch. xx ; note p. 68; cf. on the other hand, Jokul's shirt. 

1 Whereas the giant's brother, Grimar, eats his meat raw and drinks 
blood, berserk-fashion. Hr. ch. 16. 

*Cf. the suggestion of an omission here, in Vts., by Vigfusson. 



70 Hollander 

bred specimen of his kind, and there is no reason why he 
should make an unmannerly noise excepting, forsooth that 
the author knows that trolls generally do. To the recur- 
rence of the phrase heyrfii ut dynar miklar no weight is to be 
attached in itself, since it occurs also in other sagas. 1 

8) The description of the troll is clearly based on that of 
the noble Jokull. Vts : ' ' This man was very tall, his hair was 
light and it fell in fair locks upon his shoulders. A very 
handsome man he seemed to porsteinn." Hr. : (The being ap- 
proaching) 2 was a most terrible giant ; he was not so ugly look- 
ing that one could not get over it (i. e. he was not so ill-con- 
ditioned), excepting though that he had very big features.* 
He was also well attired. " That is to say, the appearance of this 
troll is altogether unlike that of any other of his kind who are 
uniformly described as ungainly, illproportioned, and clad 
mostly in coarse, short skins. Even the berserk Grim whose 
bigger brother he is appears in unmitigated colors as mikUl 
ok illiligar dsyndar. 3 In fact the somewhat wobbling style 
of the passage seems to indicate that the author was feeling 
the incongruity of having his troll not so bad-looking and 
well-dressed; for it won't do to arouse any such sympathy 
with the ogre as porsteinn, and we, very naturally feel with 
Jokul. Sure enough, a contradiction promptly follows when 
Hrolf strips the giant of his clothes ok synftiz hann harSla 
fjdndliga. 

9) Both giant and robber possess an excellent sword to 
be sure, neither the giant nor Hrolf can fittingly be armed 
with a short sword (sax) such as Jokul has. The robber un- 
fastens his sword before going to sleep, "porsteinn thought 
it to be a most precious object and very likely to cut sharp, 
and bethought himself that it would help him if he got pos- 
session of it." Hrolf takes counsel with Asmund: "First I 
should like to get possession of the sword for it seems likely to 
me that it will bite upon the giant." After obtaining the 

1 E.g. Qrettiss, ch. 35, ch. 45. 

* Also in Grettiss, ch. 35, the fiend Glam's face is described as undar- 
liga stdrskorit, J>v. ch. xix, etc. Cf. also Fas III 121. 

2 Before called 'maCr'. 
Ch. 16. 



The Gautland Cycle of Sagas 71 

sword (Risanaut) he remarks: "Now our enterprise has be- 
come much more hopeful. ' ' 

The sword hung up on high in the ogre's den it is the 
only steel to which he is not invulnerable is another fre- 
quent motive in Germanic folklore, down to our Jack the 
Giant-killer ; but it is only here found in connection with the 
Polyphemos motive. Strangely enough, the very first occur- 
rence of "the sword on the wall" in Germanic tradition 
shows the closest resemblance to the description of Risanaut 
which Hrolf confesses to be valla vdpnhceft for himself. 
Beowulf 1557 : (the fight with Grendel's dam in the cave.) 
Geseah J>a on seawum / sige-eadig bil. 
eald sweord eotenisc / ecgum Jjyhtig, 
wigena weoriS-mynd: / J>aet waes waepna cyst, 
buton hit waes mare, / Jjonne aenig mon 68er 
to beadu-lace / setberan meahte, 
god ond geatolic, / giganta geweorc. 

and again 1660 : (Beowulf speaks) 

"Ne meahte ic set hilde / mid Hruntinge 
wiht gewyrcan, / J>6ah J>set waepen duge, 
ac m6 geutSe / ylda waldend, 
J?(Et ic on wage geseah / wlitig hangian 

eald sweord e"acen / 

/ J>set ic J?y wsepne gebrsed. 1 

10) Similar threefold trial is made by porsteinn and 
Hrolf to make certain about their enemies' sleep. " This also 
is a common enough motive in the fairy story; 2 but inter- 
dependence is shown by the close resemblance of the passages 

1 The same motive in Grettiss, ch. 66, cf. Boer, Zfdph, xxx, 62. 
Hjalm)>6rss. (Fas III) ch. IX. Several examples from imprinted 
lygisogur are quoted by Jiriczek, Zfdph. xxx, 6*. Modern instances in 
Scandinavian folklore are seen in Asbjornson og Moe, 'Soria Moria 
slot,' 'Fugl Dam,' etc. 

*Griplur, str. 8, quoted by Kolbing, Beitrdge, p. 166: 

SvertS a einum sulustaf 

s6r hann uppi hanga, IV, which sword is necessary to kill the 
hangbui. 

2 Cf. Grettiss, chap. LV, Finnbogas, chaps, xxxix and xxxx. Just 
why M. Moe (Eventyrlige Sagn i den Mldre Historie, p. 660) should 
attribute the threefold trial of the Finns' sleep, in the story of Gunnhild 
(in the saga of Harold Hairfair) to loan from Vts. I cannot see by 
any manner of means. Note that there is a sleep-ruse in FrttS]>j6fg. 
closely resembling that of Finnbogi. 



72 Hollander 

in Vts. and Hr. (Vts. : hann vaknafti ok sneriz a hltiS and 
the second time : ok vaknafti hann enn w'5 ok Ipo minnr. Hr. : 
risinn sneriz a dfira hlifi ok talafti ecki um etc.) 

11) The mode of slaying the sleeping opponent is in 
both cases by plunging the sword into his chest. In both 
cases it is wielded with such force that it comes out at the 
back, yet not killing him instantaneously. Here it is worthy 
of notice that the incident of porsteinn being seized by Jokul 
and lifted into the bed between himself and the wall is cle- 
verly made use of as a stratagem of the king to save himself 
from the fury of the giant. 

I shall, finally, not omit to cite as merely cumulative 
evidence the words of Hrolf that numbers will not avail 
against the giant: Mun os ek ecki margmenni tjoa vi5 J?enna 
mann; mun hann jafnt fyrirkoma morgum som fan, ef pess 
verSr afauSit., which may be compared to the rumors of the 
formidableness of Jokul, J?viat engir komu aptr )?eir er foru, 
ok Ipott saman vaeri xv, eSa xx, ]?a hofSu ]?6 engir aptr komit ok 
]?6ttuz menn ]?ui vita at fragerS(amaSr) mundi uti liggia. 
(Vts. p. 3). 

It has been repeatedly remarked 2 that the tale of por- 
steinn and Jokul, as well as other episodes of Vts., can make 
no claim to historic truth. Indeed, folk-lore origin, or at 
least, influence, is obvious. But we are concerned here, not 
with the question whence the author of Vts. has his materials, 3 
but how his account served the author of Hr. for his purposes. 

However, having pointed out the dependence of Hr. on 
Vts., there remain a number of distinct features not accounted 
for by this dependence, and which, likewise, do not belong to 
the Polyphemus story. These may be due though with less 
certainty to our unknown author's acquaintance with the 
])orsteinssaga Vikingssonar. Detter (p. xxxviii) had thought 
of the episode with the half -troll Harek in connection with the 
holmgang (ch. 34) of king Hrolf. That particular resem- 
blance is slight. In fact, the events preceding the holmgang 
remind one rather of the very numerous encounters of the kind 
in the historical sagas, especially of Egil skallagrimsson 's fight 

* Esp. Vigfiisson, Orig, Isl. II, 279. 

* Hardly from South Teutonic sources, as Vigfiisson opines, ibid. 



The Gautland Cycle of Sagas 73 

with Ljot, 1 and still more of king Olaf Tryggvason's winning 
of Gy5a from a viking. 2 It is curious that Better overlooked 
resemblances far more important, which as I hope to show 
may furnish the clue to the interrelations of these and other 
sagas. 

The saga of Thorstein Vikingsson in the shape now ac- 
cessible in print 3 contains the story of Viking Vifilson and 
of his sons Thorir and Thorstein, half lost in a profusion of 
the usual features of the Fornaldarsagas magic, fighting, 
adventures galore, and exaggerations of all kinds. But the 
kernel of the story the staunch friendship of the foster- 
brothers Viking and Njorfi, and the terrible test to which it is 
put through the enmity of their sons, until Jokul Njorfason 
and Thorstein remain the sole survivors, with an undying 
hatred of each other this kernel is equal to the very best in 
Icelandic prose. 

In the beginning of the saga we are told of an ugly giant, 
Harekr Jarnhauss who comes to carry off the king's proud 
shrew of a daughter, but is overcome by the swain Vik- 
ing who wields the sword AngrvaSill with good effect. This 
magic sword was originally an heirloom in the giant 's family 
(cf. Eisanaut in Hr.) It passes then into Thorstein 's and the 
latter 's son, Fri5J?j6f's, possession. 

"We are particularly interested in the troll's weapon. It 
is described as a fleinn tvioddaftr. "We remember that our 
friend from Hr. is suddenly made to have a like weapon in 
his hands, though we are told but a moment previous that he 
is armed with a great bow. It is not said where the troll takes 
this weapon from; but we can make a guess as to where the 
author of Hr. got it. 

As the giant draws near the palace the door-keepers re- 
fuse him entrance ;* sja lagSi til J?eira fleininum, ok sinn odd- 
rinn kom fyrir brjost hvorum, ok sva ut um bakit, ok hof )?a 
ba6a yfir hofuS ser ok kastar ]?eim batJum langt a vollum 

1 Egils. chap. 64. 

2 61afssaga Tryggvasonar of Heimskringla, chap. 31. Cf. Heinzel, 
Beschreibung der Mandischen Saga, Vienna 1880, p. 51. 
Fo* II. 
4 L. C. ch. II. 



74 Hollander 

dauSum, etc. The additional heating of the iron in Hr. be- 
longs to the Polyphemos motive. 

Further on in the story, when old Viking despairs of 
holding any longer his sons Thorstein and Thorir against his 
liege-lord's son Jokul, he sends them away to his other fos- 
ter-brother, Halfdan, warning them in advance of certain 
adventures that will befall them on the way. There are es- 
pecially skdlabuar tveir of whom they are to beware. They 
overcome the first of these who attacks them for having killed 
the sons of Njorfi. The second encounter repeats the same 
motive, with the usual crescendo of the folk-tale. "They 
fared forth in the morning, 

enn at kveldi J>ess dags fundu ]?eir annan skala; var sa synu staerri, 
Hur?5 var hnigin & klofa; p6rir gekk at hurfiinni, ok setlaCi upp at 
hrinda, ok gekk eigi; hann gekk at meS ollu afli ok gekk eigi at heldr. 
porsteinn for at hur'Sunni ok hratt upp ok gengu inn. HlatSi med voru 
var )?ra atSra bond, enn skitSahlatSi a aSra; saeing st6r st6tS innar um Jjvert, 
sva Jjeim J?6tti 6r h6fi ganga voxtr hennar;. . . .J)eir settust ]>a nit5r ok 
kveyktu eld upp fyrir ser, enn er langt var af dagsetri heyrSu Jeir, at 
fast var ni$r stigit; Jvi naest var hurtSinni upp lokit, J?ar gekk inn risi 
furSulega mikill; hann hafSi bjarndyr mikit bundit a bak ser, en fugla- 
kippu fyrir. Hann lagtSi nitSr byrtSina a g61fit ok maelti: "Fussum! ok 
eru hr komnir vandraeBamennirnir Vikingssynir, er nu hafa verst or 
um landit sakir ohappa sinna ; hversu komu/t \>it or hondum Sams broSur 
mins?" "Sva komunist vit sagSi porsteinn, "at Samr la eftir dautSr." 
"I svefni haftS >it svikit hann," segir Fullafli. "Eigi var J>at," segir por- 
steinn, ]Jvi at vit borSumst, ok feldi J6rir br6tSir minn hann." "Ekki 
skal niCast a ykkr i n6tt," segir Fullafli, "skuliC >it biSa morguns ok 
hafa mat, sem ykkr likar." SitSan sundratSi skalabui vei8i sina, ok tok 
bortS ok bar a mat; toku >eir ]>a allir til matar; etc. 

It is not clear exactly why the giant intends to spare them 
till the next morning. Nor does the wait help on the story; 
because they start the fight in the morning, and we are ex- 
pressly told: Hvdrigir leituftu ]>ar til svika vfo a&ra, presum- 
ably on account of the dog (ilia let hundrinn, ]>a er ]>eir foru 
hjd honum). Nothing is said of an attempt to flee. Evi- 
dently, the author of J?v. is under the influence of some other 
source (not a Polyphemos story), encounters of the kind being 
fairly common in the Fas. 

The other features in Hr. not to be accounted for by either 
Polyphemos motive nor Vts. are all here. 



75 

1) It is the rule in the fairy-story that the door can be 
opened only by the hero. Asmund as well as porir try in vain. 
(By the way: is the heroic exaggeration in Hr. " (konungr) 
hratt upp weS annara hendi" due to )>v.'s information (one 
line below in the text) : Hlafii med voru var J?ar a, aftra hond, 
enn skiftahlafti a dftraf) 

2) Neither woodpile nor shed for goods plays any role 
in the story of J?v., and may be due to another source the 
same, perhaps as used by Vts. (or Vts. itself?) where, however 
the information concerning the robber's booty is very appro- 
priate, porsteinn on his return redistributes it among his 
henchmen. In Hr. we are told that the billet the king throws 
fell on the wood-pile which had not been mentioned at all be- 
fore. Compare below the similar stratagem in Vts. 

3 ) It is common enough for giants to carry home with them 
a bear or other venison on their shoulders, 1 crashing it down 
on the floor ; 2 but it is amusing to see how the giant in Hr. 
follows Hareks procedure in J?v., in merely killing the door- 
wardens, thus preferring bear's meat to Hrolf 's men, whereas 
the thoroughgoing giant in other stories of the Polyphemos 
type roasts and eats his human prey. The preparation of the 
venison for food is described in about similar terms in ]?v. 
and Hr. 

4) The scenting of the intruders by the giant 3 could of 
course not be used by the author of Hr., no more than the hid- 

1 Cf. HymiskviCa v. 10. 

*As Polyphemos crashes down his bundle of fagots. 
"The exclamation and muttered speech of the giant Fullafli: "Fus- 
sum ! ok eru her komnir etc." is probably the first occurrence, in Germa- 
nic folklore, of the formula so familiar from stories of Jack the Giant- 
killer: "Fe, fa, fum! / I smell the blood of an Englishman; / Be he 
alive or be he dead, / I'll grind his bones to make me bread." (Cf. king 
Lear, III, sc. 4, where Edgar as Poor Tom sings: 

Child Roland to the dark tower came, 

His word was still, 

Fie, fob, and fum, 

I smell the blood of a British man.) 

The "Hutetu, her lugter saa Kristenmands blod" of many Norse 
tales; etc. Cf. W. A. Clouston, Popular Tales and Fictions, I, 134, and 
468, where examples of the formula are given also from France, Italy, 
and India. 



76 Hollander 

ing of porsteinn in the chimney. Jokul's observation of the 
gledes and the forebodings suggested thereby partake of the 
nature of this motive. 

5) In both Hr. and J>v. (we have to suppose), the door is 
securely fastened by the giant before lying down to sleep. 
"We don't see why (excepting for slavishly following }>v.) 
Hrolf and Asmund cannot escape, since Hrolf before had 
opened the door with one hand from the outside, seeing also 
that the giant is fast asleep instead of having to resort to 
letting the enraged giant himself break open the door by 
flinging his bulk at it. 2 In J?v. there is at least the terrible 
dog that prevents escape. The fairy-tale that has passed 
through the alembic of the popular mind would not brook 
such an improbability. 

But all this would hang by a thin thread were it not for the 
remarkable corroborative fact that the author of Hr. evidently 
took the characters of Hrolf and Ketill from the pattern of 
porsteinn and ]>6rir in ]>v., and that saga again, perhaps, from 
the two brothers porsteinn and Jokul in Vts. whose mutual 
relations must be, essentially, historic. 

The unlike brothers in all three cases the oldest; the others koma 
ekki vi5 J>essa sogu are described as follows in ]?v.: "var porsteinn 
fyrir J?eim i alia hluti; hann var manna mestr ok sterkastr, vingtSr ok 
vinfastr, tryggr ok trur i ollum hlutum, seinj>reyttr til allra vandraeCa, 
enn gait grimlega, ef hans var leitat. Varla )>6ttu menn vita hversdag- 
lega, hvart honum J>6tti vel etSr ilia, J>6 m6t honum vaeri gert, enn longu 
siSar 16t hann sem nygert vaeri. porir var skjotlyndr ok akafamatSr hinn 
mesti, svall honum alt a ae$i, ef honum mein var gert eSr m6ti skapi; 
sast hann ok ekki fyrir, vitS hverja sem um var at eiga, e$r hvat eftir 
kom, ok 16t J>at alt vertSa fram at ganga, er honum k6m i hug at gera. 
(IX). 

Compare with this thumbsketch the more verbose description in Hr: 
Var Ketill J>rimr vetrum ellri, manna minnztr ok J>6 inn skj otligasti, 
hann var kallaSr Ketill kregC, havatSamaSr mikill ok J>6 framjarn ok 
let ecki fyrir brj6st brenna, at tala ok gera }?at honum kom i hug, harCfengr 
ok fullr arae?5is. Hr61fr var manna mestr ok sterkastr ok fritSastr synum, 
hann var famaeltr ok fastlyndr ok oframgjarn J?6 m6ti honum vaeri gert 
etSa maelt, pa 16t hann ei sem hann vissi fyrst i staS, en nockuru si8r, J>a 

* Were it not for the rationalizing tendency of the author of Hr. one 
would feel inclined to read "sva at hann brotnaSi i sman mola" the 
usual fate of the foiled and blinded giant in Norse tradition. Cf. 
Hackmann, 1. c. Nos. 24, 33, 36, 39, 42 and p. 177. 



The Gautland Cycle of Sagas 11 

at5ra varSi sizt, J>a hefndi hann harSliga ok vaskliga, ok J>6at (nockurir 
J>eir hlutir vaeri talaSir fyrir honum), er hann vardatSi, J?a 16t hann, sem 
hann heyrtSi eigi ok gaf engan gaum at, en stundu sitSar eCa nockurum 
vetrum siSar let hann sem nymselt vaeri etSa nyorSit. Hann var vin- 
saell af alJ?ySu, etc," p. 10. 

And again: "petta for enn eptir skaplyndi Hrolfs konungs, at hann 
gaf at J?essu engan gaum ok let liSa hja sr sem mart annat, pat sem 
fyrir honum var talat, at ei vissi J>at gerr fyrst i stat5, hvat honum bjo 
i skapi. Tok hann }>a till J?ess jafnan siSar, er oSrum var mjok or minni 
faUit. To the same effect, p. 11, 1. 12. 

porir 's hotheadedness is the cause of the war of revenge be- 
tween the sons of Njorfi and of Viking. Subsequently, when 
porsteinn and porir fare out alone, poris escapades regularly 
provoke the danger his stronger and steadier brother must 
help him out of. At one occasion, porir jumps over an abyss 
without waiting for porsteinn to receive him on the other side. 
After barely saving porir from falling back, porsteinn re- 
proves him gently: Jafnan synir }m )?at, fraendi, at J?u ert 
obilgjarn; 1 " Similarly, when Ketill impatiently presumes 
to wield risanaut : ' ' Konungr svarar : mikit er um akaf a J?inn 
ok vel mundi J?er frambera, ef J?u vaerir eptir J?vi forsjall, sem 
pu ert framgjarn. 2 ." 

The difference in character is really worked out in Hr. 3 
In J?v., however, porsteinn is given no opportunity to exhibit 
the qualities mentioned last in the character sketch. The 
fact is, he has really nothing to revenge. The description of 
him fits to perfection the character of the pacific and just, yet 
inexorable, porsteinn Ingemundsson. 

Sj& svein var snemma vsenn ok gerfiligr, stiltr vel, orSviss, lang- 
saer, vinfastr, ok h6fsmaSr um alia hluti.* 

In Jokul Ingemundsson the violent nature of his mur- 
dered ancestor reappears. ''Hann mun ver5a .... eiga mar- 
gra maki ok eigi mikill skapdeildarmaSr, en tryggr vinum ok 
f raendum, of mun vera mikill kappi ef ek ser nokkut til ; mun 
eigi nauSr at minnast Jokuls fraenda vars sem fa5ir minn 

1 Fas. chap. xvi. 

2 P. 44. 

8 Cf. Finnur J6nson, Lit. hist. II, 794. 
4 Vts. p. 23> line 22. 



78 Hollander 

baS mik? - - Harm var falatr, umjukr ok udaell, harftuSigr ok 
hraustr um alt. ' ' 1 

To be sure, in no case does Jokul actually provoke trouble ; 
yet his unrestrained impetuosity was really the cause of his 
father's being killed by Hrolleif. In the pursuit of revenge, 
porsteinn calmly bides his time a whole year until his plans 
are ripe ; just as king Hrolf waits long before wiping out the 
ignominy of his reception by porbjorg, much to the displeasure 
of Ketill (cf. Jokull) . Later on, 2 when the brothers are follow- 
ing the tracks of Hrolleif in the snow, porsteinn, requests them 
to stop a moment while he explains that haste is necessary, or 
else Hrolleif 's mother, the witch, will have anticipated them 
by brewing charms. Jokull starts up : 

skyndum J>a; hann var )>a fremstr a stigum af Sllum J?eim. pa leit harm 
aptr ok maelti; ilt er ]>eim monnum er olmusur eru at vexti ok fraleik, 
sem er porsteinn br68ir minn, ok mun nu draga 6r hondum hefndina, er 
ver komumst hvergi. porsteinn svarar: eigi er enn synt at minna megi 
tillog min ok ratSagertSir, en ahlaup J?in uvitrlig." 

After careful reconnoitering again according to por- 
steinns well-laid plan they come up to the evildoer's house. 

peir sa bus standa litiS fyrir dyrum, ok hlitS i milli ok heimad^- 
ranna. porsteinn maelti; petta mun vera blothus, ok mun Hrolleif hingat 

aetlat, nu gangit J>6r i krdkinn hja hiisinu, en ek mun sitja yfir 

d^rum uppi ok hafa kefli i hendi; en ef Hrolleifr gengr tit, J>a mun ek 
kasta keflinu til ySar, ok hlaupit f6r ])4 til min. 

Of course Jokul wants to do that, and to preserve peace, 
his good elder brother lets him, but not without fearing that 
Jokul might spoil the whole. And right he is : when Hrolleif 
issues, Jokul turns so quickly that he tumbles down with the 
woodpile, yet manages to throw the stick to warn his broth- 
ers. "With this stratagem of throwing a stick compare king 
Hrolf 's ruse to mislead the giants as to his whereabouts. 

Again, when the Ingemundsons clash with Mar and 
porgrimr, porsteinn 's deliberateness causes Jokul to chafe 
(chap. 29). The latter brother's fiery impetuosity finally 
starts the notorious feud with Finnbogi and Berg. 8 

1 L. c. do. 
2 L. c. p. 41. 

*Vts. chap. 31. The crossing of the wintry river, with consequent 
freezing of garments occurs also in }?v. chap. xvi. 



79 

It will thus be seen that the feature of this salient dif- 
ference of character in the hero and his brother which, quite 
as much as the scheme of the three wooing expeditions* is 
characteristic for Hr, very likely owes its origin, finally, to 
Vts. It forms the strongest connecting link between Vts., ]?v., 
and Hr. 

Better, accepting Heinzel's conclusions, assumes (p. xxxix) 
close connection of Hr. with the Ostrogothic cycle. Barring 
a possible hint as to porir jarnsjolds enormous shield, 1 the 
similarities are not compelling. "Es ist zuzugeben, dass in 
beiden Fallen ein gefangener Held durch die Unterstiitzung 
einer Verwandten seines Gegners befreit wird. 2 Aber gerade 
Heinzel weisst nach, dass das Motiv auch sonst vorkommt, 
und die Gleichsetzungen von Ketill und Wolfhart, porbjorg 
und Ute, porir jarnsjold und Hildebrand scheinen mir nicht 
entscheidend eine tJbertragung jungerer Sage in den Norden 
ist nicht wahrscheinlich. ' ' At any rate, the identification of 
Ketill with Wolfhart must now be given up. Another 'prop 
was knocked from under this ill-founded hypothesis when 
Ranisch made the plausible suggestion of the plot of Hr. being 
loaned from an older Ragnarssaga. 3 

pv. and Hr. are, furthermore, to be bracketed together be- 
cause of the fylgja-dreams, Jv. chap, xii ; Hr. p. 12 and p. 21. 

Dreams, particularly of attending spirits, are a common 
enough device in 0. N. literature to forecast impending 
events. 4 In this instance, however, the fylgjur resemble each 
other too closely in appearance and function to regard it as 
due to a coincidence. 

"Suggested, as Ranisch (Gautrekssaga, XLIV) thinks, by some form 
of the Ragnarssaga 16t5br6kar. 

1 Cf. Virginal str. 354, 491 The fact that the names of Hr61fr inn 
gamli, Grimr, jarnskj61ds J>6rir occur in the Hyn$lulj6$ proves nothing 
"da ja der Sagadichter irgendwelche saggeschichliche Namen frei ver- 
wertet haben kann." Mogk, Grd. II, 840. 

2 The first part of the Sp6s Jjfittr of the Grettissaga presents some 
similarity to the dyfliza episode in Hr. Boer, Zfdph. xxx, 13. It is not 
the question, though, whether all such episodes go back to Southern 
sources. 

*Litztg, 1893, p. 458. Golther (Litbl xiv, 195) likewise is sceptical. 
4 Cf. Henzen, Die Traume in der altnordischen Litteratur, p. 34, if. 



80 Hollander 

When on the inaccessible island in the Wener Lake, 
whither the sons of Viking had fled to avoid the revenge of the 
sons of Njb'rfi, porsteinn, their leader, dreams one night "at 
hingat runnu ]?rja tigi vargar, ok voru sjau bjarndyr ok hinn 
attundi rauSkinni ; hann var mikill ok grimmlegr, ok at auk 
tvaer refkeilur ; J>aer foru fyrir flokkinum,og voru heldr illilegar 
ok a ]?eim var mer mestr 6)?okki." He interprets the white 
bear to be Jokul, the leader of the Njorfasons; the 7 bears, 
his brothers; the wolves, the men of the king's sons; and the 
two bitch-foxes, the malicious sorcerers who had caused the 
gjerningaveSr covering the lake with ice, thus permitting the 
pursuers to approach. The ugiptumaSr porir scorns the warn- 
ing. But no sooner had porsteinn and the other brothers 
armed themselves than Jokul and his men rush to the attack. 

In Hr., queen IngigerS is forewarned of the friendly ad- 
vent of king Hrolf and his band by the following dream: 
"ek sa vargarflok mikinn. Vargarnir foru mikinn ok hingat 
J>6tti mer J?eir stefna a SvtyjoS. En fyrir vorgunum for it 
oarga dyr harSla mikit ok )>ar for eptir hvitabjorn, ]?at var 
rauftkiSr. BseSi )?6tti mer dyrin slettf jb'lluS ok hyrlig ok fara 
kyrlega ok lata ogrimmlega," etc. The lion, of course, is 
king Hrolf, the polar bear, his fosterbrother Ingjald. The 
queen foretells their immediate advent at Uppsala and gives 
her consort directions how to receive them. She dreams this 
dream a second time, when Hrolf returns with an army to 
take princess porbjorg by force." ek sa til sjavarins ok J?at 
meS, at her voru skip komin viS land eigi allfa ok af skipunum 
runnu vargar margir ok fyrir vorgunum var it oarga dyr ok 
}?ar med hvitabirnir tveir hart5la miklir ok vasnligir. Foru 
pessi dyr 611 jafnf ram, en fram i milli dyrsins oarga ok annars 
bjarnarins hljop fram goltr mikill. Hann var sva grimmligr 
ok illiligr, at slikt hefi ek ecki sett, hann for rotandi, sem hann 
mundi ollu umsnua, etc." The two white bears are Asmund 
and Ingjald, the formidable boar, Ketill. The more popular 
J?v. knows as yet of no lion. 

Finally, it may not be amiss to point out, without going in- 
to details, the general resemblance of these three sagas in the 
strictly viking stage of their heroes' careers. With Vts. chap, 
vii, especially p. 14, line 13 p. 15, line 11, compare ]?v. chaps. 



The Gautland Cycle of Sagas 81 

xx-xxiii; which prolix series of episodes, again, is to be held 
against Hr. chaps. 10, and 16-18. Though these scenes may, 
at first blush, seem general to the Fas., yet, on scanning their 
plots it will be found that this holds true for the several in- 
gredients, but not for their combination as here found. Not- 
withstanding our far from satisfactory knowledge of the orig- 
inal contents, both of Vts. and }?v., it is reasonable to suppose 
that the story in Vts. wherever that may be from was 
spun out and elaborated with other material, to suit the needs 
of Hr. and J?v. 

In the second part of this study I shall discuss the rela- 
tion of the Hrolfssaga to the Gautland cycle. 

LEE M. HOLLANDER. 

The University of Wisconsin, April, 1911. 



82 Tupper 



NOTES ON OLD ENGLISH POEMS 

I. 
THE HOME OF THE JUDITH. 

The sturdy old scholar, Giraldus Cambrensis, who, with 
all his faults, was, in many matters of the mind, that rare 
thing, a free man, thus has his fling at the sciolism of his day : 
"When I was a young man, studying at Paris, ambitious of 
distinction and carried away by the ardor of this new learn- 
ing, an old man who was a frequenter of the schools often 
reproved me with the errors of my ways. * * * * I 
thought, in the pride of my youth, that such advice was child- 
ish, but afterwards I found how true it was. For the abuse 
of logic, since it does not open the locks, but rather hinders 
and hampers them, enervates and suffocates true learning." 1 
With changed name, this story may be narrated concerning 
much of our new philology. 

In a very recent article upon "The Philological Legend of 
Cynewulf" 2 I sought to show that "a lack of open-minded- 
ness, a distortion of scant evidence too weak to bear the strain 
and an abuse of the syllogism in the perverted endeavor to 
adapt the false premises to a conclusion that admits of large 
doubt have combined to litter with worthless debris the field 
of Old English literary history." If this sweeping statement 
found its ample justification in the perversities and inconsis- 
tencies of Cynewulfian research, it receives hardly less strik- 
ing illustration from the fallacies that cumber the student of 
the Judith. 

Regarding the home of this admirable composition, lite- 
rary historians seem of one mind that its first form was 
Anglian. Professor Cook is so thoroughly convinced of its 
Northern origin that he offers a version of the poem in the 
Northumbrian dialect. 3 Gregory Foster, in his interesting 

1 Gemma Ecclesiastica, D. II, Rolls Series, II (1862), 350-351. 

'Publications of Modern Language Association of America, XXVI 
(1911), 235-279. 

'Judith, 2d edition, Boston, 1889; Transactions of American Philo- 
logical Association, XX (1889), 172f. 



Notes on Old English Poems 83 

"Studies" * asserts that several forms in the manuscript point 
to an Anglian original j Dieter, without a misgiving, supports 
this opinion ; 5 and Brandl seeks to maintain it. 6 Imelmann, 
it is true, objects rightly 7 to much of the evidence adduced 
for an Anglian origin, but he nowhere dissents strongly from 
the general opinion that the poem is Anglian. 

Now this general opinion rests upon fallacious reasoning 
that proceeds somewhat after this wise : ' ' On the authority of 
this or that grammar Sievers's or Biilbring's certain forms 
are Anglian; the poem under consideration contains these 
forms ; therefore the Anglian origin of the work may be safely 
proclaimed." This syllogism crumbles to pieces as soon as 
its major premise is carefully scrutinized. It is seldom 
claimed by the authorities cited that the forms in question, 
though they appear in Northumbrian and Mercian texts, are 
the exclusive possession of the Anglian dialects; indeed, even 
when the succinct statements of grammarians seem to justify 
such an inference, a short search through Southern compo- 
sitions frequently reveals the presence there, in large numbers, 
of the supposed criteria of a Northern origin. If this ever 
recurring fallacy of a false assumption has vitiated much of 
the discussion of the sources of Cynewulfian poetry, it has 
certainly been fatal to any sound investigation of the earliest 
home of the Judith. 

Ten Brink long since pointed out 8 that the second scribe 
of the Beowulf, to whom we owe the Judith, nowhere uses his 
favorite io for eo in his copy of the shorter poem, because this 
accurate transcriber did not find it in his original. We gain 
thus some ground for the belief that our "West-Saxon version 
is copied from a West-Saxon version. What reasons are given 
for supposing that the poem was once transcribed from an 
original in one of the Anglian dialects? In Cook's most re- 
cent edition of the Judith he thus summarizes the evidence 

* Judith, Strassburg, 1892. 
*Anglia, Beiblatt, IV, 321. 
Paul's Grundriss*, II, 1091. 
''Anglia, Bb, XIX, If. 

* Beowulf Untersuchungen, p. 238. 

* Belles Lettres Series, 1904, p. VIII. 



84 T upper 

of "Northern" origin: "Forms like hehsta (4,94) and nehsta 
(73), for example, point to the North, while such as hyhsta 
(309) are clearly West Saxon; so seceft (96), hafaft (197), 
medowerige (229) seem distinctively Northern (Foster, 
Judith, pp. 50-51)." In the very pages that Cook cites, Fos- 
ter, though also arguing for an Anglian original, has shown 
the worthlessness of the evidence of hehsta and nehsta, as 
"they are common in Late West Saxon;" and Imelmann 
(1. c.) points to their presence in both Alfred and JElfric. 
Examples of this so-called "palatal umlaut," of course 10 a 
frequent phenomenon in LWS, may be multiplied from South- 
ern poems. Sedgefield's "Glossary" to the Old English Boeth- 
ius furnishes from the Metres, poems traceable probably to 
Alfred himself, many instances of hehsta; and the later 
Genesis offers similar examples. 11 

How persistent has been the fallacy into which both Cook 
and Foster have fallen, in their citation of unsyncopated 
verbal forms as a strong indication of an Anglian source, is 
shown by Sedgefield's inaccurate statement in the "Intro- 
duction" to his recent edition of the Beowulf (p. 5) : "These 
forms (sendest, sende, forsended), which also occur in the 
text of other 0. E. poems, are regarded by Professor Sievers 
as a sign of Anglian origin, as in the Southern texts the syn- 
copated forms alone occur." Never was there a blinder, nor 
yet more prevalent, misunderstanding of a criterion of dia- 
lect. Sedgefield's last clause should of course read, "As only 
in Southern texts do the syncopated forms occur," for Siev- 
ers certainly never even implies that the texts of Wessex and 
Kent limit themselves to forms with syncope, inasmuch as he 
cites 12 dozens of unsyncopated forms from the Metres and the 
Menology. In my recent Publications article (pp. 255-258), 
I have pointed out that Sievers 's actual contention that an 
exclusive use of unsyncopated forms is Northern has no weight 
for poems of the earlier periods. Even if the Judith be of 
the late ninth or early tenth century, as many think with 
no very cogent grounds for their belief, the appearance of 

10 See Sievers PBB. IX, 211; my article, Publications, XXVI, 251. 
"Compare Genesis B. 254, hehstne; 260, 300, hehsta(n)-, 536, nehst. 
12 PBB. X, 465f. 



Notes on Old English Poems 85 

but two longer present forms, seceft and kafaft and of 13 a 
few unsyncopated participles has small value as an indication 
of source since seceft and /i/a6 are both found in the Metres, 
since hafaS frequently appears in Genesis B, 15 and since, in 
the 46 lines of the Cura Pastoralis poems, hafafi is the only 
form of habban. 

The unsyncopated forms, medowerige (229a) and medo- 
werigum (245a), which, in each case, form a hemistich, ad- 
mirably illustrate the type of witness, summoned far too 
frequently in discussions of this kind who, under cross- 
examination, yields evidence exactly counter to that which he 
is called to offer. So far from being " distinctive!}'' North- 
ern," the Judith forms seem suspiciously Southern, inas- 
much as no less than fifteen of the eighteen other examples 
of this absence of syncope furnished by Sievers 16 are drawn 
from Southern (and comparatively late) poems, the Metres, 
the Menology, the Maldon. On this easily discredited testi- 
mony Professor Cook rests his case. 

Two other "Anglian characteristics" are cited by Foster. 
The first of these is the absence of breaking before Z-combi- 
nations. The implied argument is worthless as such absence 
of breaking is extremely common in EWS. prose and verse; 17 
and yet this time-worn philological fallacy confronts us in 
P. G. Thomas 's review of the dialect forms in the Beowulf 18 
and in Sedgefield's endorsement of his conclusions. 19 The 
second ' ' significant phenomenon " is ' ' the Anglian ipegon ( 19 ) , 
of which the West-Saxon form would be \>cegon." I have 
already minimized the force of this form as a criterion of 

"Moreover, Imelmann, Anglia, Bb. XIX, 3, shows that in Judith. 
198 ftae/8 would be equally metrical, and even Foster concedes (p. 51), 
that only in a single case, dreted, (167), is an unsyncopated participle 
actually required by the metre. 

14 See Sedgefield's "Glossary," s. v. 

15 11. 363, 384, 394, 635. 

W PBB. X, 461. 

17 See the scores of Southern examples of lack of breaking before H- 
consonant cited in my Publications article (pp. 248-249). 

M The Modern Language Review, I, 206f. 

19 Beowulf, p. 295 (Appendix I). 



86 Tupper 

dialect ; 20 but I may add that the form gelpdh of the Metres 
(I 63 ) shows the preference of even Southern poems for the 
strong forms of }ncgan over the weak preterite common in 
WS. prose. Does such evidence as this of Foster's make 
the balance of probabilities incline in the least to Mercia? 
Unfortunately so many Anglists seem to share the delusion 
that arguments individually valueless carry collectively con- 
viction. 

Brandl's discussion of the Judith in his indispensable 
sketch of our early literature 21 contributes two arguments 
that certainly do not strengthen the case. "The poem con- 
tains many cases of the velarising of a (heafto, bealo), which 
was especially common in Mercia." Unhappily for this 
argument, heafto occurs, to the exclusion of other forms, fifty, 
and bealo at least sixty times in the poetry (which surely can- 
not all be Mercian) ; and, moreover, both forms appear in the 
South in the Metres and the historical poems. 22 Little im- 
portance can be attached to the assumption of Mercian orig- 
inals for the riming words, gefeohte; gerihte (202), since sim- 
ilarily imperfect rimes, deaft; bi$ (Christ, 596), heah; fdh 
(Seafarer, 98), glengeft; bringeS (Ldr, 13), hleorum; tearum 
(Domesdc&g, 128) are common in the poetry; and appear in 
the Judith itself, Iping; leng (153). 

Two Anglian usages are mentioned by Imelmann : 2S many 
cases of in instead of on, and nymlpe for but on (52). I have 
already pointed 24 to the frequent appearance of this in in 
the earliest WS. and to its persistence in the Menology, 25 un- 
doubtedly Southern, as its many syncopated verbal forms de- 
clare. I find no instance of nymlpe in an unquestionably 

* Publications, XXVI, 247-248. 

Paul's Grundriss,* II, 1091. 

12 Hedporinc and beadurinc, the very words of the Judith (179, 212, 
276) appear in the Metres (9 U , l w ) ; and both bealu and beadu in the 
historical poems (cf. bealuleas, Eadweard, 15; beadu, Brunanburh, 48, 
Maldon, 111, 185). 

"Anglia, Bb, XIX, 3. 

M Publications, XXVI, 260. 

28 11. 39, 40, 75, 97, 117. 



Notes on Old English Poems 87 

Southern poem ; 2e yet let us note the presence of the distinct- 
ively Anglian glen (gen) in Genesis B (413), of the Anglian 
geleoran in the Menology (208), of the Anglian teogan, worn 
and mcegwlite in the Metres, 27 and of the Anglian tcfyas in 
so Southern a line as he }>d tungan totyh]> ond }>d tfyas Ipurh- 
smyhS in the Exeter text of Body and Soul (122). 28 No 
one can deny that the diction of Anglian poetry has exercised 
a strong influence upon that of the Southern. 29 A word so 
common as nympe in the older verse might easily be em- 
ployed by a "Wessex poet who drew very freely from all poet- 
ical sources. Professor Cook's interesting list of parallel pas- 
sages shows that the writer of the Judith is a prince of bor- 
rowers. 80 

By such means as have been employed to assign an Ang- 
lian home to the Judith, it would be easy to show that a West- 
Saxon poem is a philological impossibility. We are told by 
Imelmann 31 that the Menology is Anglian, by Crow 32 that the 
Maldon is Anglian, and by Brandl 33 that the Brunanburh is 
Anglian. We are told by everyone that the Judith is Anglian. 
And when we ask for proof, we fail to receive a shred of con- 

24 In my article (I. e.), which I seem to be quoting ad nauseam, 
stress has been laid upon the appearance of nymne in ninth century 
Southern charters. 

17 See Jordan, Eigentumlichkeiten dea anylischen Wortchatze, 
1906, pp. 63, 66. 

"Why not argue that Chaucer was Northern, because he introduces 
into The Book of the Duchesse (1. 73) such a form as telles, riming with 
elles? 

29 See Jordan, Id., p. 3. 

* To attach large importance to arguments of terminus a quo and 
terminus ad quern based upon verbal resemblances between the Judith 
and passages in Cynewulf s work and in the Brunanburh is to ignore en- 
tirely the existence of a stock vocabulary in the homogeneous Old Eng- 
lish poetry and to disregard the vogue of the numerous poems now lost 
which all these writers may have plundered, though in complete ignor- 
ance of each other. The parallel column has very recently been invoked 
to sustain sweeping conclusion, which seem to me totally unwarranted; 
but more of that in another place. 

n Das altenglische Menologium, 1902. 

** Maldon and Brunanburh, 1897, pp, viii-ix. 

"Paul's Grundriss, 11,1077. 



88 Tupper 

vincing evidence. I submit with emphasis that the case is not 
proven. 

Yet the camel is not swallowed without great straining. 
Cook is puzzled by the presence of the "Southern" preterite 
indicative, funde (not fond), not only in the second line of 
the poem, where it is firmly established by the rime, but also 
in line 278. Imelmann asks "how such a West-Saxon form can 
be reconciled with the theory of a Northern origin of the 
poem?" And both scholars cite the authority of Sievers's 
Grammar 3 386, note 2, where we read that "the WS. 
preterite of findan is also funde, as if from a weak verb." 
In the interests of truth, let us go behind the record. I open 
the Beowulf, which no one regards as West-Saxon, and meet 
no less than five examples of the indicative funde, in each case 
sustained by the metre: sona Ipcet on funde (751, 1498); }>a 
\>cet onfunde (810) ; hleonian funde (1416) ; ]>cet ic gum- 
cystum godne funde (subj.?) beaga bryttan, breac Iponne 
moste (1487). Obviously the form is quite as possible in the 
North as in the South. Hopian (117), discussed at length by 
Dietrich, 34 seems, however, a Southern word. Its appear- 
ance in the poetry is limited to the Judith and the Metres 
(7"), and in the prose to Saxon ground. Other words, too, 
may be Southern. Imelmann notes with surprise over sixty 
poetical nonce-usages recorded in Cook's "Glossary" of the 
poem; but he does not remark that quite four-fifths of these 
are compounds of very familiar members. Of the dozen 
simplices, all but three (behft, cohhettan, gedyrsian) are well 
known to Wessex prose. Three of these words occurring in 
the WS. Gospels, beceftan (Luke, XXII, 6), beheafdian (Matt. 
XIV, 10), binnan (Matt. II, 16; John XI, 30) do not appear 
in the corresponding passages of the Eushworth and Lindis- 
farne versions. But to attach great significance to this cir- 
cumstance would be to follow the very methods that this ar- 
ticle is strongly condemning. Of all arguments those based 
upon vocabulary are the most delusive. "The best in this 
kind are but shadows ; and the worst are no worse if imagina- 
tion amend them." 

84 Haupts Z., IX, 216-218. 



Notes on Old English Poems 89 

There seems to be no good grounds for regarding the 
Judith as anything else than a West-Saxon poem. Certainly 
the champions of an Anglian origin have done little by their 
fallacious arguments, to remove the burden of proof that 
rests so heavily upon them. 

II. 

THE PHYSIOLOGUS OP THE EXETER BOOK. 

In last year's April number of Modern Philology Miss 
Rose Jeffries Peebles passes in review various commentaries 
upon the Physiologus poems of the Exeter MS. Nothing could 
be more luminous than Miss Peebles 's condensation of these 
discussions. On the other hand, nothing could be blinder 
than many of the essays which she cites. Here as elsewhere 
in the critical study of Old English there has been much 
futile fumbling, due largely to sheer inability to estimate 
evidence at its proper value. 

Among insolubilia may be placed the question whether 
the Anglo-Saxon poems constitute a small complete cycle or 
are but the fragment of a longer series. Such evidence as we 
possess forbids a final answer. To quote Seneca, "Quid te 
torques et maceras in ilia quaestione, quam subtilius est con- 
tempsisse quam solvere?" But the problem certainly be- 
comes less dark in the light of any judicial consideration of 
the second question, "What bird is the subject of the third 
piece?" Of this bird the Exeter Book gives us only a little 
over a line of description, Hyrde ic secgan gen bi sumum fugle 
wundorUcne Then the page ends, and the next leaf is occu- 
pied with religious application. Evidently something has been 
lost a leaf or more. 

No one denies that in those forms of Physiologus which 
the Anglo-Saxon most closely resembles in content the Greek 
type in Pitra's Cod. A, the Bern MS. 233 and the Royal MS. 
2 C XII the order of creatures is Panther, Whale, Par- 
tridge. As the order in the Old English is Panther, Whale, 
and then a bird, scholars have usually accepted the Par- 
tridge as the bird of the fragment. An obfuscating objection 
was inevitable, and it came from Mann, who urged 38 that 

m Anglva, Bb. XI, 334-335. 



90 Tupper 

the common partridge is not "wonderful" and therefore can- 
not be the creature intended. Miss Peebles endorses this 
protest. Now let us hasten to protect our opinions against 
what Laurence Sterne calls so aptly "fuliginous matter." I 
am not prepared to admit that the eager wide-eyed early Eng- 
lishman, who found wonder in such common things as the 
Sword, the Jay, the Onion, the Bagpipe, 88 and who chanted 
the story of that other foe to nests, the Cuckoo, 37 would not 
deem the Partridge, with its unnatural ways, a "wonderful 
bird." But all this is beside the mark, for in this case there 
is no mention whatever of a "wonderful bird." The noun, 
fugle is dative ; the adjective, wundorllcne is accusative. The 
poet begins : "I heard recounted concerning a certain bird, a 

wonderful ." If the missing word be "trait" or 

"habit" (gewunan or some other masc. ace.), the epithet 
might well apply to the Partridge's trick of nest-stealing. 
Mann's protest rests upon ignorance both of Old English 
modes of thought and of Old English grammar, and is there- 
fore untenable on every count. 

Now let us consider the gap in the manuscript. The chief 
adherent of the long cycle theory, Sokoll, who had never seen 
the Exeter Book, claims 38 that not a single leaf but a quire 
containing several Bestiary poems has been lost after fol. 97b. 
Against this view may be urged all the probabilities. In each 
of the five other like gaps in the manuscript not more than a 
singe leaf seems to be gone. 39 Here at least is an indication 
that the Book has suffered no wholesale losses. A far stronger 
argument lies in the circumstance that the assumption of a 
single missing leaf with the usual quota of sixty-five or seventy 

"Riddles, 21 1 , 25\26\ 32 7 . 
"Riddle 10. 

38 Zum angelsdchsischen Physiologus (XXVII Jahresbericht d, K. K. 
Staats-Oberrealschule in Marburg, 1896-97). 

39 The story of the Outhlac and the sources of the Juliana clearly 
indicate that after fols. 37, 69 and 73 only one leaf in each case is miss- 
ing; and the assumed absence of single leaves after fols. 105 and 111 
easily accounts for the five missing riddles required to raise this collec- 
tion of enigmas to the conventional hundred. Thorpe's assumption of 
lost leaves after fols. 8, 11 and 82 is not justified by any lack of con- 
tinuity in the text. 



Notes on Old English Poems 91 

lines of verse would allot to the Bird poem some eighty or 
eighty-five lines, as compared with the Panther's seventy-four 
and the Whale's eighty-nine. Finally the religious applica- 
tion in the Anglo-Saxon fragment has been shown by Ebert * 
to resemble in its motif of parental relationship the Hermeneia 
of the Partridge in the Bern Physiologus. Unlike Miss Pee- 
bles, I believe that this bird satisfies all necessary conditions. 41 
If the Bird of the fragment be the Partridge, as there is 
now no sufficient reason to doubt, the natural conclusion seems 
to be this that our Old English poet finding in his Latin 
original, which was undeniably closely akin to the Bern type, 
land, water and air represented in sequence by the Panther, 
the Whale and the Partridge followed this order in a small 
cycle, which he prefaced with a few lines of general intro- 
duction and concluded with a Finit. We can hardly hope to 
come nearer than this to a solution of the problem of the 
cycles. 

III. 

A FIELD OP BLOOD. 

A famous textual crux, furnishing a theme for sugges- 
tive discussion is found in the Battle of Brunanburh, 12-13 : 

feld dennade 
secga swate. 

So read MSS. B, C, D (dennode), but A (the Parker MS.) has 
dcennede secgas hwate, and MS. Otho B. XI, the victim of the 
Cottonian fire of 1731, reads, according to Wheloc, dynede. 

Editors and critics have dealt with the passage in four 
ways: 1) They have followed the reading of the chief Chron- 
icle MS. (A) ; 2) they have accepted the consensus of opin- 
ions of three good texts (B, C, D) ; 3) they have adopted the 
Wheloc form; 4) they have departed from all transmissions 
and proposed yet other readings. As the full history of these 
critical differences has apparently found no record in modern 

"Anglia, VI, 246. 

"Personally I find little force in Mann's objection that the three 
creatures should typify God, devil, man and not God, devil, devil. The 
argument is a legitimate one, but it is flatly contradicted by the evi- 
dence, r The poet's choice was not free but dictated by his sourcesj 



92 Tupper 

edition or commentary, we may range a little along these 
various ways. 

1) In close adherence to the Parker MS. Zupitza stands 
almost alone. 42 He connects the verb with Mod. Eng. den and 
ME. dennien, "to hide" and gives it the meaning, "to hide," 
"to cover." The passage must then be rendered, "The field 
covered brave men. ' ' But to this interpretation there are two 
sufficient objections. The sense is not congruous, as the bury- 
ing of the dead would come much later (Plummer). Against 
secgas hwate, with a short stressed syllable in the second 
foot, the metre makes strong protest. The reading of MS. A 
must, therefore, be abandoned. It is evidently the blunder of 
a dull scribe writing from dictation. 

2) The version of MSS. B. C. D, has had a far larger fol- 
lowing. Ettmiiller in his Scopas (p. 557) and Grein in his 
Sprachschatz (I, 187) unite in translating, "the field became 
slippery with the blood of heroes." This rendering is ac- 
cepted by Bosworth-Toller (p. 200), Plummer, 43 Bright, 44 
Crow, 45 and by Anna Brown in her translation. 46 But as 
Dr. Bright says, "this interpretation of dennode is merely 
conjectural." Inasmuch as the word is a nonce-usage and 
has no sustaining cognates, it might just as properly receive 
a quite different rendering. The explanation is, therefore, 
far from convincing ; and the reading itself, despite its strong 
manuscript support, is very doubtful. 

3) The form, dynede, has the less potent authority of 
Wheloc's transmission of a single manuscript; but it gains 
weight from Henry of Huntingdon's Latin equivalent, "Col- 
les resonuerunt. Sudaverunt armati" 47 and from La^amon's 

See the various editions both German and English of his Uebungs- 
buch. 

41 Two Saxon Chronicles, 1892-1899, I, 322, II, 139. 
"Anglo-Saxon Reader, 1894, pp. 146, 223. 

45 Mai don and Brunanburh, 1897, p. 29. 

46 Poet Lore, Jan., 1891. 

47 The first translation of the Brunanburh in point of time is easily 
last in point of merit. Henry of Huntingdon's total misunderstandings 
of many poetic phrases and epic formulas are intensely significant as 
marking the complete decline of the older poetry before the middle of 



Notes on Old English Poems 93 

parallels in battle-scenes, 21330, }>e eorfte dunede, and 27441, 
\>a eorften gon to dunien, 48 Hence Sharon Turner, 49 and In- 
gram in his edition of the Chronicle (1823) render, "the field 
resounded," "mid the din of the field;" but "the field re- 
sounded with the blood of the fighters" is such an absurdity 
that we must seek some other meaning of the word. This has 
been done perhaps successfully by Price, who points to the 
Icelandic dynja, not in its usual sense of "resonare" but with 
the connotation "irruere" in a similar context, blodit dundi, 
and who renders, "the field flowed with warrior's blood." 
Price's conjecture has been confirmed by Rask, 51 and by 
Guest, 52 who in 1838 praises the suggestion, first made in 1824, 

the twelfth century. This archdeacon, who rendered with fair success 
the prose of the Peterborough Chronicle (E) goes hopelessly astray in 
nearly every line of the war-poem which he found in another version. 
I mention a few of Henry's most stupendous blunders. To him 
heofyolinde meant "nobiles"; hamora lafum eaforan Eadweardes, "do- 
mesticae reliquiae defuncti Edwardi"; glad ("glided"), "hilariter" (so 
Turner and Ingram); seo ctfpele gesceaft sah to setle ("the sun set"), 
"nobilis ductor occasu se occuluit"; hcele\>a nanum, "sanitas nulla"; 
brego, "tumor"; feorh generede, "intrinsecus gemebat"; blandenfex, 
"verbis blandus." The adjective frode and the phrase aet gu\>e sponsor 
two leaders unknown to history, "Froda ductor Normannus" and "Gude 
Dacus." To the beasts and birds of war Henry adds not only dogs but 
"the livid toad" ("buffo livens"), for so he, and Turner and Thorpe in 
his wake, render hasopadan. But the most amusing of all his blunders 
is in the very passage that we are considering. "Sudaverunt armati ex 
quo sol mane prodiit" offers us a glowing picture of warriors sweating 
from early morning under the sun's rays. ^Ethelstan's singer could 
never have foreseen that very sultry interpretation of his poetic concep- 
tion. May I add that a detailed study of the large evidence presented 
by the Anglo-Latin Chroniclers of the passing of the older speech and 
literature would well repay the labor. [In the last moment of galley- 
proof, I chance upon Miss Rickert's discussion of Henry's rendering of 
Brunanburh in her paper on "The Old English Offa Saga," Modern 
Pholology, II, 65-66.] 

48 See the excellent notes of Price and Taylor in the edition of the 
poem, Warton, History of English Poetry, 1840, I, Ixxi. 

4 * History of the Anglo-Saxons, Book IX, Chap. I. 

50 Note the instances of this meaning in Cleasby-Vigfusson's Dic- 
tionary s. v. dynja: e. g. dundi \>d bldftit um hann allan (Njdla, 176). 

51 "Preface" to his Anglo-Saxon Grammar, p. Iviii (cited by Tay- 
lor, /. e.). 

s *See History of English Rhythms, 2d edition, 1882, p. 359, note. 



94 Tupper 

as a "happy piece of criticism" and translates, "streams." 
This rendering has been adopted by many translators, among 
them Thorpe, Morley and the Tennysons, and has much in 
its favor. It must, however, be remembered that the word, in 
this sense, occurs nowhere else in English. 

4 We must now leave the solid ground of authoritative 
readings for the liberal air of surmise. Here as everywhere 
else in Old English texts, emendation has been busy. The 
stercorary suggestion of Ten Brink, 53 "Das Feld wurde mit 
dem Blute der Manner gediingt," and the violent substitu- 
tion by Sedgefield B4 of Mnode ("became wet") for dennade 
have little to recommend them; but a correction proposed by 
Sir Frederic Madden opens up so long a vista of literary rela- 
tions and poetical survivals that it must receive due consi- 
deration. This great editor believed 55 that "we find pre- 
served in many passages of Lajamon's poem the spirit and 
style of the earlier Anglo-Saxon writers. No one can read 
his descriptions of battles and scenes of strife without being 
reminded of the Ode on ^Ethelstan's victory at Brunanburh." 
To the present writer, the connection does not seem very 
close. Far more intimate analogues to the Old English battle- 
clashes, with their attendant horrors, are found in those half 
English Old-Norse compositions, the Hofufildusn and the 
Krdkumdl, redolent of that grisly fellowship of wolf, eagle 
and raven, than in the stiifer poetical conventions of the priest 
of Severn's banks. But here or there in a phrase of the Brut 
is a reminiscence of the earlier and finer war-scenes. For in- 
stance, fceie ]>er feollen, so common in Lajamon (11. 1742, 
4162, 20075, etc.) exactly duplicates the first half -line of our 
Brunanburh crux, fcege feollen. Madden therefore had some 
warrant for his translation of dunede (Brut, 20678), "became 
dun," not only in the falewede of Brut, 16414, 18318, but in 
his proposed reading, dunnade, "became dun" for dennade 
in the Brunanburh line. 56 Madden afterwards substituted the 
rendering "dinned" or "resounded" (as in 11. 21230, 27441) 

M Geschichte der Englischen Litteratur, I, 116. 

64 Belles Lettres edition of the Battle of Maldon, 1904, p. 39. 

68 Layimon'8 Brut, 1847, "Preface," I, xxiii. 

"Id, III, 496-497. 



Notes on Old English Poems 95 

for "became dun," believing rightly that a conjecture in the 
older speech gave but scanty support to a departure from a 
common connotation. But his conjecture for our Old English 
word has many things in its favor ; " though his note has 
escaped the attention of all scholars. The emendation dunnade 
for the unsatisfactory dennade involves the change of but a 
single letter, and affords excellent sense: "The field was 
darkened (or "discolored") with the blood of warriors." 58 
It receives strong support from the falewede passages of the 
Brut; compare particularly 11. 18318-9 : 

"falewede feldes 
of faeieblode." 

See also 11. 4162f, 16414f. In Anglo-Saxon, dun and fealo are 
exact synonyms, both glossing "fuscus"; indeed dunfealo is 
found. Finally both Bosworth-ToUer (p. 219) and Sweet (Dic- 
tionary, p. 45) err in regarding OE. dunnian as transitive, since 
in its sole appearance, in a passage of the prose Boethius 
(IV, 6), the verb is clearly intransitive (as the Brunanburh 
lines demand) : ]>a beorhtan steorran dunniaft on \>dm heofone. 
Against dunnade, however, protest all the manuscripts and 
the strong claims of dynede. 

Truly, here is food in God's plenty for all kinds of critical 
appetites. 59 

67 The same suggestion has been offered by Holthausen (Anglia, Bb, 
III, 1892, p. 239) apparently without knowledge of Madden's note and 
the Laiamon parallels. 

M So Shakspere drawing directly from Holinshed (Henry V, III, 
vi, 152) : 

"We shall your tawny ground with your red blood 
Discolour." 

"Since writing this article, I note that Erik Bjorkman, in an im- 
perfect review of the readings and interpretations of our Brunanburh 
passage (Herrig's Archiv, CXVIII, 384-386), offers, in utter ignorance 
of Price's important chapter, the explanation of dynede proposed by the 
scholar of eighty years ago, approved by Rask and by Guest, and immor- 
talized by Tennyson. More attention to the splendid work of our pio- 
neers would lessen greatly the number of so-called "discoveries." Still 
Bjorkman's independent conclusion brings support to a plausible read- 
ing; and his suggestion that, in our lines the two meanings of dyn(n)ede, 
"resounded" and "flowed" have been confused is not unhappy. 



96 T upper 

IV. 

Two POETS OF THE NORTH SEA. 

Nature merely takes notes through her poets; so why 
should we be surprised when two singers in widely differing 
ages derive from the same fount of beauty and w r onder a com- 
mon inspiration? Yet, though we all recognize this as a 
rather obvious truth, we are not a little startled when we hear 
the voice of the North Sea speaking in like tones through two 
interpreters, a thousand years apart. Thus, the eighth- or 
ninth-century Englishman in that splendid lyric, The Wan- 
derer (Bibliothek, I, 286, 11. 45-47) : 

Sonne onwaecneS eft wineleas guma, 

gesihS him biforan fealwe wiegas, 

banian brimfuglas, brsedan fe)?ra, 

hreosan hrlm and snaw hagle gemenged. 
ponne beoS J?y hefigran heortan benne, 
sare sef ter swiesne ; sorg bi5 geniwad, 

j?onne maga gemynd mod geondhweorfeS, 

greteS gliwstafum, georne geondsceawaS 

secga geseldan : swimmaS eft on weg ; 

fleotendra fer5 no J?Jer fela bringeS 

cu.5ra cwidegiedda ; cearo bi5 geniwad 

J?am }>e sendan sceal swi)?e geneahhe 

ofer wa]?ema gebind werigne sefan. 

Now compare this from a nineteenth-century German, 
Heine, in Die Nordsee, Zweiter Cyclus, 5 (Der Gesang der 
Okeaniden) : 

"Abendlich blasser wird es am Meer, 
Und einsam, mit seiner einsamen Seele, 
Sitzt dort ein Mann auf dem kahlen Strand, 
Und schaut todkalten Blickes hinauf 
Nach der weiten, todkalten Himmelswolbung, 
Und schaut auf das weite, wogende Meer 
Und tiber das weite, wogende Meer, 
Liiftesegler, ziehn seine Seufzer, 
Und kehren zuriick, triibselig, 
Und hatten verschlossen gefunden das Herz, 
Worin sie ankern wollten 



Notes on Old English Poems 97 

Und er stohnt so laut, dass die weissen Mowen, 
Aufgescheucht aus den sandigen Nestern, 
Ihn herdenweis umflattern. ' ' 

And this from the third poem of the same cycle : 
"Die Wogen murmeln, die Mowen schrillen, 
Alte Erinnerungen wehen mich an, 
Yergessene Traume, erloschene Bilder, 
Qualvoll siisse, tauchen hervor." 

In both the old and the new are the same motives, a lonely 
wanderer peering with sad eyes over cold and gloomy waters, 
recalling in his dreams the old familiar faces and sending 
forth over the waves dreary thoughts and sighs, while about 
him wild sea-mews shriek and flap their wings. Then the 
forgotten centuries assert themselves and each bard speaks 
after the manner of his age and race. But that flint-gray 
ocean has brought the two poets for a time very close together. 

V. 

HAND OFEB HEAFOD. 

One of the most significant phrases in all Anglo-Saxon 
poetry has hitherto failed to find satisfactory explanation. 
In the Journey Spell, 23f, (Bibl. I, 329) the traveller prays 
thus: 

Si me wuldres hyht, 

hand ofer heafod, haligra [h]rof, 

* * * * # # 

Biddu ealle bltyum mode, J?et me beo hand ofer heafod, 
Matheus helm, Marcus byrne, etc., etc. 

The early editor of the passage, Cockayne (Leechdoms, I, 
391), modernizes the thought, " 'Hand over head,' as in a 
game easily won." Bosworth-Toller (Dictionary, p. 508) 
thus translates : " * May there be to me a hope of glory, hand 
over head,' i. e. without difficulty ['hand over head,' thought- 
lessly extravagant; careless; at random; plenty. Halli well's 
Dictionary].'' If this were the true definition, we should have 
a very early example of a phrase, of which the first use noted 
by the Oxford Dictionary, V, 66, s. v. "Hand over head," is 
some six or seven centuries later, 1440 A. D. : "Precipitately, 
hastily, rashly, without deliberation, indiscriminately." But 



98 Tupper 

this meaning certainly does not fit our context without dis- 
tortion of the thought. Grendon in his admirable edition of 
the Charms 60 frankly admits : ' ' The passage is obscure. Can 
it refer to a lifting of the hand over the head, an attitude that 
might have traditionally accompanied certain prayers? Ele- 
vation of the hands while praying was common enough. ' ' This 
conjecture does not serve. 

Now the best commentators upon the older poetry are the 
old poets themselves ; and two lines from the Exeter Gnomes, 
68-69 (Bill. I, 344-5) flood our dark phrase with light: 

' ' Hond sceal heaf od inwyrcan, hord in streonum bidan, 

Gifstol gegierwed stondan, hwonne hine guman gedielen. ' ' 
Though the first clause puzzled Rieger and Strobl sadly, 
it is obvious from the accompanying gnomes that the refer- 
ence is to some ceremony at the time of the dispensing of 
treasure by the lord to his men some rite of the Comitatus. 
The chief's hand is evidently laid upon his retainer's head, 
but how and why? I believe that the answer to this question 
is plainly given in certain well-known verses of the Wan- 
derer, 41-44, (Bill. I, 286) : 

]?inceS him on mode J?set he his mondryhten 

clyppe and cysse, and on cneo lecge 

honda and heafod, swa he hwllum air 

in geardagum giefstolas breac. 

Well-known verses surely, but always cited without any per- 
ception of their real meaning. 61 I cannot think that the exile 
implies that, after long and loving embraces, the early Ger- 
manic warrior was wont to sit at his lord's feet with hands 
and head upon his master's knee; but I believe that, like the 
poets of the Charms and Gnomes, he is recalling the old cus- 
tom of the "Commendation," by which, with time-honored 
forms, the vassal pledged his loyalty and trust in return for 
his chief's gold and protection. As Miillenhoff says: 62 "Die 

"Journal of American Folk Lore, XXII, (1909), pp. 179, 221. 

91 See, for instance, Larson, The King's Household in England be- 
fore the Norman Conquest (Bulletin of the University of Wisconsin, 
No. 100), p. 83. 

62 Deutsche Altertumskunde, IV, 266-267. Compare the many refer- 
ences in Du Cange's Olossarium, s. v. "Commendatus." 



Notes on Old English Poems 99 

in das gefolge eintretenden leisteten dem fiirsten einen eid, 
lex Sal. 42, 2, schwuren trustem et fidelitatem, wogegen der 
konig ihnen seinen schutz und ein hoheres wergeld zusichert. ' ' 
This pledge of the clansman is the prwcipium sacramentum 
of the Germania of Tacitus (chap. 14), the oath of fealty of the 
Beowulf (2634f), the ' ' commendatio solenni more" of Egin- 
hard's "Epistles" (XXVI-XXVIII) and of Nithard's "His- 
tory" (Bk. I, chap. 8). 

If my interpretation of the Wanderer passage be correct, 
we know the full ceremony of the gift-stool. Having received 
from his chieftain either treasure or promise of protection, 
the warrior embraced and kissed the bestower of honor, then 
kneeling he placed hands and head upon his lord's knee and 
vowed loyalty and devotion. This rite of "commendation," 
this Old English form of mannrceden, 63 anticipates in all 
essential features the typical act of feudal homage of several 
centuries later. From the large number of references in Du 
Cange's Glossarium (s. v. "Hominium") we learn that the 
vassal bent his knees before his sitting lord, and placing hands 
between hands kissed the prince and made his vow. 84 The 
lines in the Wanderer, if read aright, acquire great historical 
significance as the earliest complete record of a most im- 
portant ceremony. 

** Karl von Amira's discussion (Paul's Grundriss? Ill,' 168) is per- 
tinent. "As vassus or vassallus the follower 'commended' himself to his 
lord, when in taking service, he gave himself into the lord's protection 
and responsibility or munt. * * * * The lord was bound to reward 
this self-surrender by a gift in his turn. Through a kiss he received the 
follower into his munt. In the German laws of the Middle Ages, the 
'Commendation' (manschaft, homagium) appears before the oath of 
fealty as a regular feature of the hulde, through which is established 
the personal tie between master and man." Fehr notes (Die Sprache 
des Handels in Altengland, 1909, p. 23) that "in the feudal sphere 
homage (hominaticum) had already in Anglo-Saxon its correlative in 
mannrceden (mann + rceden, 'condition') and was surely an imitation of 
a like Germanic word (probably manschaft)". See Oxford Dictionary 
s. v. homage and manred. 

" See the formula in the Charta anno 1255 ex Regesto Tolosano, fol. 
55, cited by Du Cange: "Et inde ligium Homagium vobis facio manibus 
meis positis inter vestras et flexis genibus et dato vobis fidei osculo et 
recepto." 



100 Tupper 

Whether my interpretation of the poor exile's words be 
correct or no, we are perfectly safe in inferring from the 
gnome, hond sceal heafod inwyrcan that the chief placed his 
hand upon the warrior's head, when he dealt to him gifts or 
when he pledged him such guardianship as Beowulf asks of 
Hrothgar for his men (1. 1480) : "Be thou the stay and 
strength to my stout companions." Hand ofer heafod in the 
Journey Spell carries then the idea of "guardianship" and 
"protection" and finds its exact synonym in mundbora 05 
which, it is interesting to note, is frequently applied to the 
Deity and to saints and angels. So we may render with con- 
fidence the lines from the Charm : 
' ' May mine be hope of glory, 

******** 

Sovereign protection, 66 and the shelter of saints, 

In sanguine mood I solicit, that mine be sovereign protection : 

Matthew my helmet, and Mark my hauberk," etc., etc. 

VI. 

THE CURSE OP UBSE. 

Among the many striking instances of Saxon resistance 
to Norman aggression, none is more vivid than the famous 
"Curse of Urse." Not only the historian but the student of 
literature to whom even the last little gasps of the Old Eng- 
lish verse are precious may well be grateful to William of 
Malmesbury for the wealth of circumstantial detail with which 

88 Karl von Amira remarks (GrundrissP III, 138, 150) that, on Ger- 
man as well as on West Gothic and Prankish ground, "das Schutzrecht 
oder die 'Hand' (munt) gab dem Schutzherrn eine Vertretungs- und Be- 
fehlsgewalt, leicht auch eine Obrigkeit iiber den Schiitzling * * * * 
Die Lehengerichtsbarkeit des Mittelalters scheint in der munt des Lehen- 
herrn iiber seine Vassalen ihren Ausgangspunkt zu haben." 

68 Since this article was sent to the JOURNAL, A. R. Skenip has in- 
dorsed in the July (1911) number of the Modern Language Review 
Schlutter's rendering of hand ofer heafod, "schiitzende hand iiber meinem 
haupte" (Anglia, xxxi, 60-61), which had escaped my notice; but neither 
scholar supports this interpretation. In connection with the religious 
application of the phrase in the Charm passage, I must note that my 
colleague, Professor A. B. Myrick, has gathered a large number of in- 
stances of the feudal conception of God in medieval writings, and intends 
to publish shortly the interesting results of his investigation. 



Notes on Old English Poems 101 

he invests his story of Archbishop Ealdred's malediction upon 
the rapacious Norman officer. 67 ' ' The sheriff of "Worcester ' ' 
William is, of course, speaking of the years immediately fol- 
lowing Senlac, for Ealdred died in September, 1069 "was 
Urse [of Abetot], who built his castle in the very jaws of the 
monks, so that the fosse encroached upon the monastic burying 
ground. Complaint was made to the Archbishop in his capa- 
city as guardian of the diocese. Face to face with Urse, he 
rebuked the sheriff in these words : ' Hattest )?u Urs, have J>u 
Godes kurs' ' the rest of the imprecation is given in the 
narrator's Latin " 'and mine and all consecrated heads,' un- 
less thou movest hence thy castle. And know of a truth that 
thine offspring shall not long hold to their heritage the land 
of St. Mary. ' He predicted that which we have ourselves seen 
come to pass. Not many years afterwards, Urse's son, Roger, 
the heir of his father's possessions, was smitten by the heavy 
indignation of King Henry, because in a fit of anger he 
caused to be slain one of the king's servants." In 1125, some 
sixty years after the Curse, William of Malmesbury thus tells 
the story. 

Now let us mark the fading of this tale in the course of a 
century. It has not been remarked, I think, that Giraldus 
Cambrensis, who died about 1220, gives in his very latest work, 
the Speculum Ecclesiae, quite another and fainter version of 

97 Here is William's Latin, Genta Pontificum, 155, Rolls Series, 
p. 253: "Libertas animi ejus [i. e. Aldredi] in uno verbo enituit prse- 
clare, quod Anglice apponam quia Latina verba non sicut Anglica con- 
cinnitati respondent. Ursus [d' Abetot] erat vicecomes Wigorniae a 
rege constitutus, qui in ipsis pene faucibus castellum construxit, adeo 
ut fossatum cimiterii partem decideret. Querela ad archiepiscopum qui 
tutor esset episcopatus delata est. Ille cum vidisset Ursum his verbis 
adorsus est: 'Hattest Jju Urs, have Jju Godes kurs.' Eleganter in his 
verbis, sed dure nominum eufoniae alludens: 'Vocaris,' inquit, 'Ursus, 
habeas Dei maledictionem et,' quod Anglice non apposui, 'meam et om- 
nium consecratorum capitum, nisi castellum hinc amoveris. Et scias 
profecto quod progenies tua non diu de terra Sanctae Mariae heredita- 
bitur.' Dixit ille implenda quae nos videmus impleta. Siquidem non 
mult is annis filius ejus Rogerius, paternarum possessionum compos, 
gravi regis Henrici indignatione pulsus est, quod quendam ex ministris 
regis praecipti furore jussisset interemi. See Freeman's fine rendering, 
Norman Conquest, 1873, IV, 116, and note Brandl's discussion, Paul's 
Grundriss* II, 1096. 



102 T 'upper 

the ' ' Curse of Urse. ' ' 68 Gerald has been telling of the great 
wrongs done to Wulstan, the sainted Bishop of Worcester, by 
"a certain knight who was an officer of the king [William I] 
and very powerful in those days in that part of the country. 
This officer never ceased to heap upon Bishop Wulstan fre- 
quent losses and indignities, until at last that good man was 
provoked to great wrath, and playing upon the name of his 
enemy, 'Urs,' and fitting to it, in a rime of his own tongue, 
'curs,' thus hurled upon the head of the knight a richly de- 
served malediction, which, through the power of divine ven- 
geance, has been fulfilled in large measure against the officer 
himself, and, even to the present day, against those of his 
lineage. ' ' 

There, in Gerald's account, is the incident exactly as it 
did not happen. Everything has paled, names have been 
changed, circumstances forgotten, the very jingle effaced. The 
story has been transferred from Archbishop Ealdred to the 
other great Saxon prelate of the Conquest, Bishop Wulstan. 
The reasons for the shift are obvious. The lesser in rank had 
waxed the greater in fame, and, as Saint of Worcester, nat- 
urally absorbed such a tradition of his see. Of the aggressive 
Urse d'Abetot, Giraldus evidently knew little more than the 
name preserved in the old rime, but, after the manner of his 
age, he conceals his ignorance by a bold stroke of fancy. In 
the passage preceding the story of the Curse, we are told to 
our great surprise, that "this powerful officer" was the per- 
son directly responsible for the attempted deposition of Wul- 
stan, and that his wiles were brought to nothing by the famous 
miracle of the Bishop 's staff. It is almost unnecessary to add 

88 Here is the Speculum Eccleaiae passage, chap, xxxiv (Roll* 
Series, IV, 343-344) : "Verum quoniam intellectum dare vexatio solet 
et tribulatio merita bonorum augmentare, dictus miles ministerque [i. e. 
miles quid am minister regius et in partibus potentissimus ea tempestate] 
malignus Wulstanum episcopum damnis et injuriis crebris afficere non 
cessavit. Unde vir bonus quandoque commotus et tanquam ad iram pro- 
vocatus, alludens vocabulo quo vocabatur ille, scilicet Urs, et adaptans 
atque subjungens lingua sua rythmice curs juste quam meruit in caput 
ejus maledictionem intorsit; quae proculdubio tarn in ipsum quam in 
suos, propaginaliter ab ipso descendentes, usque in praesentem diem 
ultione divina non inefficaciter redundavit." 



Notes on Old English Poems 103 

that the many chroniclers who record that marvel, -^thelred 
of Rievaulx, Roger of "Wendover, Matthew Paris, 89 give Urse 
no place in the story. The offense of the Sheriff against the 
monks of Worcester, so circumstantially recounted by the his- 
torian of Malmesbury, becomes, in Gerald's shadowy narrative, 
a series of personal insults to Wulstan himself. Even the old 
couplet is lost save for the rime, which must have lingered 
long. To William's story, which he of course did not know, 
Gerald seems to make one weighty addition that the Curse 
was powerful for ill against Urse's descendants, even in the 
early thirteenth century. That were a contribution, indeed, 
could we but accept it as fact. Credat Judaeus Apella! Sus- 
picion soon becomes conviction that this conclusion is dic- 
tated by Gerald 's orthodox love of a moral rather than by any 
actual knowledge of the fate of the family of Urse. 

The tradition of the "Curse of Urse," as we meet it in the 
pages of Giraldus Cambrensis, is surely a most interesting 
illustration of the gradual conversion of trustworthy his- 
tory into irresponsible legend. 

University of Vermont. FREDERICK TUPPER, JR. 

69 For the testimony of these, see Freeman, Norman Conquest, IV, 
256. 



104 Forsythe 



SHADWELL'S CONTRIBUTIONS TO SHE STOOPS TO 
CONQUER AND TO THE TENDER HUSBAND. 

I. 

Mr. G. A. Aitkin in the introduction to his edition of 
Steele's plays 1 says that Goldsmith was indebted to Steele's 
comedy The Tender Husband for the idea of his Tony Lump- 
kin. 2 This theory has been undisputed even since it was ad- 
vanced. However, a much better candidate for the honor of 
being Tony Lumpkin's original than Steele's Humphrey 
Gubbin, and one who not improbably was Steele's own model 
besides, is Thomas ShadwelPs Young Hartford, a character in 
his comedy The Lancashire Witches. There is not only a 
close resemblance between this personage and Goldsmith's, but 
there are some additional points which go to prove Gold- 
smith's knowledge and use of the old play. 

In the first place, Young Hartford in Shadwell's dramatis 
personae 3 is thus described : "a clownish, sordid, Country 
Fool, that loves nothing but drinking Ale, and Country 
Sports." As his father says, he 
" . . . . delights 

In Dogs and Horses, Peasants, Ale and Sloth. ' '* 

Sir Edward Hartford, his father, designs to marry him to 
his cousin, Theodosia, a beautiful and accomplished young 
woman. The younger Hartford, however, has no love for her, 
and pays her attentions only at his father's commands. He is 
' ' bashful, very indifferent .... and no Lover at all. ' ' 5 
Theodosia 's brother, Sir Timothy Shacklehead 6 is the suitor 
of Hartford's sister, Isabella. These two young women favor 
a pair of London gentlemen, Bellfort and Doubty. During 

1 The Complete Plays of Richard Steele. (The Mermaid Series.) 
Edited by ... G. A. Aitken. London. 1894. 

2 Ibid. Introduction, p. XXVI. 

The Works of Thomas Shadwell, Esq. London, 1720. Vol. Ill, 
p. 222. 

4 Act I, Sc. I, (p. 227). 

"Act. I, Sc. I (p. 228). 

6 "Sir Thomas Shacklehead" in the dramatis personae. 



Shadwell's Contributions 105 

the course of the play the unwilling courtship of Young Hart- 
ford goes on until at its end, to his satisfaction, Theodosia mar- 
ries Doubty and the proposed match is, of course, declared off. 

The resemblance between Young Hartford and Tony 
Lumpkin is a very close one. Hardcastle says of his stepson, 
"The alehouse and the stables are the only schools he'll ever 
go to." 7 Tony is introduced in an inn in Act I (cf. Young 
Hartford, Act IV, Sc. I, "Enter Young Hartford drunk.") 
His mother intends him to marry his cousin, Constance Ne- 
ville, but this he is unwilling to do, and more or less openly 
shows his disapprobation of the project. He, indeed, takes an 
interest in assisting Hasting 's courtship of Constance, so as 
to get her out of his way. Neither Hartford nor Tony dis- 
likes his cousin, but neither has any desire for a nearer rela- 
tionship. 

A hint for Act I, Sc. 2 of She Stoops to Conquer is found 
in the latter part of the witch scene in Act I of The Lan- 
cashire Witches. 8 Goldsmith's scene is laid in an inn. 
Marlowe and Hastings enter, having lost their way "upo' the 
forest." Tony directs them to his step-father's house as to 
an inn. In the other play Bellfort and Doubty enter to Clod 
who has been set in a tree by witches. They have lost their 
way in a sudden storm while seeking the means of seeing 
Isabella and Theodosia. Clod finally falls from his tree and 
after a time guides them to Sir Edward Hartford's house for 
shelter. 

In Act II, Sc. I and in Act IV, of She Stoops to Conquer 
Goldsmith may have had in mind the courtship of Sir Timothy 
and Isabella. Tony and Constance make love in public but 
are distinctly cousinly in bearing in private. Shadwell's 
couple quarrel in private but are very peaceable when in com- 
pany. 9 

7 The works of Oliver Goldsmith, Edited by Peter Cunningham. 
London. Vol. I, She Stoops to Conquer. Act I. Sc. I. 

8 Pp. 238-241. 

9 In Etherege's The Man of Mode, Act III, Sc. 1, and in Marmion's 
A Fine Companion, Act II, Sc. 4, and Act III, Sc. 5, are situations simi- 
lar to those noted above. In each of these plays two young people who 



106 Forsythe 

Lady Shacklehead 's praise of her son's accomplishments 
and appearance 10 bears a slight resemblance to Mrs. Hard- 
castle's apologies for Tony's shortcomings in Act I, Sc. I of 
Goldsmith 's play. The likeness is merely a general one. 

The possible origin of Marlowe's bashfulness and of his 
taciturnity when in Miss Hardcastle 's presence 1X may be 
found in Act II of Shadwell's play. 12 The two passages are 
alike in that they show the deepest embarrassment on the part 
of the male participant in the dialogue and a certain degree 
of maliciousness in each woman's attitude toward the other 
person. 

The suggested qualities of Kate Hardcastle 13 are much the 
same as those of Isabella (mentioned in Act I, Sc. I The 
Lancashire Witches}. "Sense and discretion," the character- 
istics which are suggested as the former's, are Shadwell's 
heroine's, judging from the balanced lists of traits he gives 
her in an indirect way. 

Sir Edward Hartford, too, may be the source of Hard- 
castle. Shadwell in his dramatis personae describes Sir Ed- 
ward as "A worthy, hospitable, true English Gentleman, of 
good Understanding and honest Principles." The likeness of 
the two characters is very well shown by a comparison of Act 
I, Sc. I, She Stoops to Conquer and Act III, Sc. I, of The 
Lancashire Witches. 

Practically the only likeness that there is between The 
Tender Husband to return to Mr. Aitken's belief and She 
Stoops to Conquer is the same as that which exists between 
the first play and The Lancashire Witches: that is to say, 
in Steele's play a country youth, Humphrey Gubbin, is de- 
signed by his father to marry his cousin who dislikes the match 

are more or less indifferent to each other pretend affection for each 
other in public, but are cool to each other in private by agreement be- 
tween them. The same element occurs in De Musset's Frederic et Ber- 
nadette, chap. 3. 

M Act II, Sc. I. The Lancashire Witches (pp. 248-249). 

"She Stoops to Conquer, (Act II, Sc. I). 

u Pp. 246-248. 

u Act I, Sc. I, She Stoops to Conquer. 



Shadwell's Contributions 107 

as much as he. At the ends of the respective plays each lias 
found a mate more to his fancy than the destined one. 

It must be said though that Humphrey, like Tony Lump- 
kin, is kept in ignorance by his father of his having come of 
age, and also that he aids Clermont in his courtship of Biddy 
Tipkin in a way that recalls Tony's attempts at assisting 
Hastings and Constance. One can but conclude after com- 
paring the three plays, however, that, although possibly Gold- 
smith drew on Steele for one or two ideas, yet he went to 
Shadwell's comedy for a much larger amount of material to 
be used by him after some pruning and rearrangement. 

II. 

In the preceding discussion I have mentioned an apparent 
relationship between The Tender Husband and The Lancashire 
Witches. Another of Shadwell's plays The Squire of Al- 
satia bears a certain resemblance to Steele 's play. 

The seeming debt of The Tender Husband to The Lan- 
cashire Witches lies chiefly in the characters of Young Hart- 
ford and Humphry Gubbin and in their courtships of Theo- 
dosia and Biddy. Young Hartford and his cousin Theodosia 
are to marry, not because of any desire on their part but be- 
cause it is the wish of their families. Hartford, in fact, is to 
be disinherited by his father unless he pays his addresses to 
Theodosia. 14 She is in love with Doubty, a London gentle- 
man, and so she pretends to encourage her cousin only in the 
presence of the parents of one or the other. In private they 
make no secret of their coldness toward each other. 

Humphry Gubbin, in Steele 's play, is an ignorant country 
youth of the same type as Young Hartford. His father wishes 
him to marry his cousin Biddy. Her uncle and guardian, 
Old Tipkin, favors the match. In Act I, Sc. 2, Humphry is 
first introduced. Here he makes some objections to matri- 
mony, but his father silences him by a reference to his cudgel, 
for although the boy is twenty-three his father still uses phy- 
sical suasion with him. In Act III, Sc. 2, Humphry finally 
meets his cousin and the ensuing dialogue resembles slightly 

"Act II, Sc. 1 (p. 246). 



108 Forsythe 

that between Theodosia and Young Hartford. 15 At the end 
of Steele 's scene Humphry and Biddy vow eternal hatred, one 
for the other. The aunt, Mrs. Tipkin, enters unperceived and 
mistakes the mutual protestations for protestations of love. 
This resembles an incident in Act IV, Sc. I, of Shadwell's 
play. 16 Theodosia enters from having confessed her love to 
Doubty and finds Isabella, her cousin and Hartford's sister, 
on the stage. Bellfort, her lover, has just left her. The two 
then compare notes upon their happiness. While each is 
praising the perfections of her lover, Theodosia 's parents and 
her brother Isabella's hated suitor enter. They mistake 
the purport of the conversation and are confirmed in their 
mistake by the young women who discover them. 17 A hint 
for the tone of the dialogue between Biddy and Humphry 
may be found in the scenes between Sir Timothy, Theodosia 's 
brother, and Isabella. He is very anxious to marry her un- 
like Humphry but she despises him and treats him with 
great harshness when they are alone. In company, however, 
she simulates great affection for him. This same thing is 
done by Biddy with this difference Humphry aids in her 
deception. 

Sir Edward Hartford, the father of Young Hartford, and 
Sir Harry Gubbin, the father of Humphry, bear a certain 
likeness to each other. They are of the same general type 
country gentlemen who are proud of that station. Another 
of Shadwell's characters to whom Sir Harry owes more than 
to Sir Edward will be discussed below. 

This is Sir William Belfond in The Squire of Alsatia, 
1 ' a Gentleman of above 3000 1. per Annum, who in his Youth 
had been a Spark of the Town, but married and retired into 
the Country ; where he turned to the other Extream, rigid and 
morose, most sordidly covetous, clownish, obstinate, positive 
and forward." 18 That Sir Harry's characteristics correspond 

16 The Lancashire Witches, Act III ,Sc. 1 (p. 266). 
M Pp. 292-93. 

17 Cf. Sheridan, The Rivals, Act III, Sc. 3. 

The Squire of Alsatia, Dramatis personae. Vol. IV. The Works 
of Thomas Shadwell. 



Shadwell's Contributions 109 

with Sir William's can be seen after reading Act I, Sc. 2, of 
The Tender Husband. 

The actions of Humphrey Gubbin while in London are 
similar to those of Belfond Senior, Sir William's elder son, 
but in a modified form. Belfond is thus described by Shad- 
well, "eldest Son to Sir William; bred after his Father's 
rustick, swinish manner, with great Rigour and Severity ; upon 
whom his Father's Estate is entailed; the Confidence of which 
makes him break out into open Rebellion to his Father, and 
become leud, abominably vicious and obstinate. ' ' 19 

Belfond Senior is in London without his father's knowl- 
edge, the latter having come to London, also, for the purpose 
of negotiating the marriage of his son with the niece of 
Scrapeall, 20 a usurer the same errand as Sir Harry Gub- 
bin 's. 21 The young Belfond, who has been always under the 
very close surveillance of his father, has fallen into the hands 
of some residents of Whitefriars, or Alsatia, who set to work 
to make way with as much of their victim's money as possible. 

Belfond and Humphrey have had virtually the same sort of 
education. Sir William says of his son, ' ' I have a Son whom by 
my Strictness I have formed according to my Heart : He never 
puts on his Hat in my Presence ; rises at second Course, takes 
away his Plate, says Grace, and saves me the charge of a 
Chaplain. Whenever he committed a Fault, I maul'd him 
with Correction; I'd fain see him once dare to be extrava- 
gant!" 22 Sir Harry says of his son's education, "I never 

suffered him to have anything he liked in his life 

He has been trained up from his childhood under such a plant 
as this in my hand I have taken pains in his education." 
"It has been the custom of the Gubbins to preserve severity 
and discipline in their families." "He has been bred up to 
respect and silence before his parents." "Observe his make, 
none of your lath-backed, wishy-washy breed. ' ' 23 

w Dramatis personae. 

20 Compare Scrapeall and Steele's Mr. Tipkin, Biddy's uncle. 

21 It is worth noting that neither Belfond or Humphrey has seen his 
prospective wife before the play's opening. The former, indeed, is ig- 
norant of his father's intentions. 

"The Squire of Alsatia. Act I, Sc. 1, (p. 28). 
** The Tender Husband. Act I, Sc. 2. 



110 Forsythe 

Among other disreputable characters Belfond meets Cheat- 
ly, "a leud, impudent, debauch 'd fellow," who plans to marry 
him to Mrs. Termagant, the cast-off mistress of Belfond 's 
younger brother. 24 This is for the purpose of more easily 
gulling Belfond Senior, of revenging the woman, and also of 
providing for her. She is a vindictive individual, who, to 
secure the elder Belfond, plays the part of "a Town Lady of 
Quality." 

In Act V, Sc. 2, this plot which has been going forward 
smoothly falls through. A company, including a parson, is 
gathered at Mrs. Termagant's lodgings to witness the mar- 
riage. But Belfond Junior and a posse break in, arrest the 
party on various charges, and lay bare the villainy of the en- 
tire assembly just in time to prevent the performing of the 
ceremony. At the end of the play the next scene the re- 
pentant Belfond admits his past folly, asks his father's par- 
don and has a settlement made upon him by his parents, who 
has modified his ideas of education of children to a consider- 
able extent. 

In Act I, Sc. 2, of The Tender Husband, immediately af- 
ter Sir Harry Gubbin and Tipkin have left the stage ' ' to take 
a whet" and to conclude the arrangements for the marriage, 
Pounce enters with his sister, Mrs. Fainlove, disguised as a 
man. Pounce is Sir Harry's attorney and Mrs. Fainlove is 
the mistress of Clerimont Senior, ' ' the tender husband. ' ' The 
lawyer and Humphry fall into conversation in the course of 
which the younger Gubbin makes apparent his hate for, and 
fear of, his father. Pounce advises him to rebel against the 
parental authority since the estate is entailed. It may be 
remarked in passing that Pounce is a rather pleasing Cheatly ; 
he uses, in addition, the same reasoning in regard to the en- 
tailed estate as does Shamwell in Act I, Sc. 1, of Shadwell's 
play. Pounce offers to introduce Humphry to a woman of 
prodigious fortune, a sister to the disguised Fainlove, by 
whom he means no other than her. The attorney gives 

24 Belfond Junior, who has been reared by his uncle, Sir Edward 
Belfond, is almost an exact opposite to his brother, judged by the stand- 
ard of Shadwell's time, although their relationship is somewhat apparent 
to the present-day reader. 



Shadwell's Contributions 111 

Humphry a purse for his present needs. This should be 
compared with ScrapealPs lending money to Belfond Senior. 

Humphrey is introduced to Mrs. Clerimont, a fine lady, 
with whom the disguised Mrs. Fainlove pretends to be in 
love, and exhibits himself in various ways. His love-making 
with the attorney's sister is not shown. In the last scene of 
the play he and his newly-married wife come on the stage to 
sue for the forgiveness of Sir Harry. After a stormy scene 
this is granted and the play ends without Humphry's learn- 
ing of his wife's having been Clerimont 's mistress. Pounce, 
the equivalent of the many sharpers who prey on Belfond, is 
punished in no way. 

It should be pointed out that both Mrs. Termagant and 
Mrs. Fainlove appear on the stage in male habits and succeed 
in passing themselves off as men. Furthermore, the germ, 
but nothing more, of Act II, Sc. 1, of The Tender Husband 
may be found in The Squire of Alsatia, Act III, Sc. 1, (pp. 
97-98). These scenes introduce the books which Biddy has 
been reading romances and the sort of literature which the 
two heroines of the latter play indulge in when the opportu- 
nity offers poetry and romances. Ruth, Shadwell's female 
gaoler, "a precise Governess," corresponds to a certain ex- 
tent to Mrs. Tipkin, Biddy's aunt. Their criticisms of the 
favored kind of reading matter are very much alike. 

Scrapeall's appearance in the last scene of The Squire of 
Alsatia is the source of Tipkin 's quarrel with Sir Harry in 
the corresponding scene of Steele's play. The idea of the lat- 
ter scene, however, is all that comes from Shadwell, as Steele 
has developed a very amusing dispute between Tipkin and Sir 
Harry over the settlements. 

In the preceding discussion I have attempted to show that 
Steele for his comedy drew upon two of Shadwell's for char- 
acters, situations, and incidents. He has cut down the old 
plays, and reduced them into a compact and clean comedy; 
the resemblances to the sources remain, however, and are too 
obvious, it seems to me, to do anything else than to lead the 
reader to the conclusion which I have drawn that of Steele's 
indebtedness to Shadwell. 

University of Kansas. E. S. FORSYTHE. 



112 von Klenze 



BASTIER, PAUL: LA NOUVELLE INDIVIDUALISTE 

EN ALLEMAGNE. De Goethe a Gottfried Keller. Essai 

de Technique Psychologique. Paris 1910. 452 pp. 8. 

The importance of this book resides in the fact that it is 
the first serious attempt on the part of a foreigner to de- 
scribe and define the German Novelle as a distinct art-form. 

The German Novelle, it may be well to state parentheti- 
cally, differs in principle from the novel (Roman] not only in 
length (in fact some Novellen are as long as short novels), 
but in its most essential nature. Nor is it like the American 
short-story, in which, through the influence of Poe, great 
stress is laid upon mere brevity. In the Novelle, the com- 
pactness derives from the peculiar angle from which the 
character or the situation is visualized. Some of the rich- 
est minds and greatest literary artists of Germany have ex- 
pressed their interpretation of the world through their No- 
vellen, and have created works of narrative art of the highest 
order. Of all this foreign criticism has so far been unaware. 

Bastier's book is divided into three parts: I. "fitude ob- 
jective de la Nouvelle." II. "Le Nouvelliste. " III. "Con- 
clusions. ' ' Of these, the first is the most valuable. Through- 
out the book the author aims to prove that the Novelle as a 
distinct type was established before the middle of the nine- 
teenth century, i. e. before the advent of the great modern 
Novellisten, Heyse, Storm, Keller, Meyer, etc. 

Ch. I, "La Nouvelle et la Litterature Allemande du 
XIX Siecle," shows that during the period of the Romantic 
School, the short narrative enjoyed enormous vogue. Hence 
the immense popularity of the novellas of the Italian Renais- 
sance, of the French nouvelles, of the "Novelas Exem- 
plares" of Cervantes. Much confusion prevailed and all 
sorts of prose works masqueraded as "Novellen." 

In Ch. II, "La Definition essentielle de la Nouvelle," B., 
after considering various definitions of the Novelle offered by 
men like Goethe, Tieck, Heyse, Spielhagen, etc., concludes 
that Goethe, in a conversation with Eckermann in 1827, form- 
ulated the essentials. To Goethe a Novelle meant "eine sich 
ereignete, unerhorte Begebenheit" (an extraordinary but 
real event). From this B. with what I feel to be rather too 
great liberality of interpretation derives theme unique; 
unite d'interet; singularite et verite de Faction; aspect his- 
torique, perime de cette action ; et enfin sous-entendu : recit de 
cette action" (p. 41). ( Heyse 's demand for a turning-point 
"Wendepunkt' for every good Novelle, B. rejects as over- 



Bastier's La Nouvelle Individualist e En Allemagne 113 

dogmatic). It follows that the length or shortness is a matter 
of secondary importance. To quote B. (p. 46) : "La longueur 
de la Nouvelle est contingente . . . Une nouvelle pourra etre tres 

longue, sans cesser d'etre une, singuliere Le volume, le 

nombre de pages n'a pas, pour la Nouvelle, plus d 'import- 
ance specifique que pour la peinture la grandeur de la toile. ' '* 

The preference for the idiosyncratic, the strange, the out- 
of-the-way, which lies at the root of the Novelle, was bound to 
attract the members of the Romantic School. Yet very few of 
their tales are true Novellen or may claim great importance. 
This B. lays to their love of mere mystification, and, as he 
brings out elsewhere, to their lack of artistic self-discipline. 
Students of German literature must regret that these tales 
(by Tieck, Fouque, Hoffman, etc.) are the only ones which 
mainly through the work of Carlyle have been introduced to 
English readers. 

The German Novelle, B. next shows, modified the original 
Renaissance type to a greater extent than has been the case in 
Prance or in Spain (p. 71). 

*There is here more than a technical difference between the German 
Novelle and the short-story according to Poe. To Poe the short-story 
is essentially the vehicle for conveying a mood. He is, therefore, j ustifled 
in demanding brevity in order that the mood of the reader be main- 
tained unbroken. The German insists that the problem be viewed from 
a special visual angle, and demands concentration, but not necessarily 
brevity. The danger to which brevity may lead by impoverishing the 
content of the short-story appears from a remark by Professor Bliss 
Perry quoted with evident approval by Prof. Brander Matthews in his 
"The Short-Story. Specimens Illustrating its Development" p. 37 : "Deal- 
ing only with a fleeting phase of existence, employing only a brief moment 
of time, the writer of the short-story 'need not be consistent; he need 
not think things through.' Herein we see where the short-story falls below 

the level of the larger novel " Moreover Professor Palmer Cobb's 

conclusions found in his essay "Edgar Allen Poe and Friedrich Spiel- 
hagen. Their Theory of the Short-Story" (Mod. Lang. Notes XXV, 
pp. 67ff.) are extremely misleading. He implies that Poe's theories as 
interpreted by Spielhagen (in books which appeared as late as 1883 and 
1898) determined the nature of the German Novelle, and that Spielhagen 
became "the intermediary between Poe and those 'masters of the short- 
story' in Germany to whom Prof. Matthews refers" (p. 71). The only 
"masters" whom Prof. Matthews mentions by name are Auerbach 
("Black Forest Tales") and Gustav Freytag ("the more sentimental 
tales") (see p. 399). The former are ranked low by German critics, and 
hardly pretend to be short-stories of the Poe type. And Freytag 
seems to have succeeded with infinite cunning in hiding his "sentimental 
tales." At least they are not to be found in his collected works nor, as 
far as I know, anywhere else. Morevoer, it is to be noted, the Ger- 
man Novelle, as Bastier conclusively shows, was formulated before the 
advent of Poe. Kleist, the first powerful Novellist, died in 1811 ; Goethe's 
"Novelle" appeared in 1826; Droste-Hiillshoff published her "Juden- 
buche" in 1842, the very year in which Poe wrote his famous essay. Sec- 
ondly, as we see above, the German Novelle is built on essentially differ- 
ent principles from Poe's. 



114 von Klenze 

In Ch. Ill, "Le sujet de la Nouvelle," the author, in order 
to prove how great a range of subjects the Novelle covered 
even before the middle of the century, discusses in detail and 
with fine literary sense ten genuine Novellen all written 
during this period: Goethe's " Prokurator, " Kleist's "Mar- 
quise von 0," and "Erdbeben," all akin, with variations, 
to the type of the Italian Renaissance novella; Goethe's 
"Novelle," which more than almost any other single work, 
symbolizes the author's whole philosophy of life; Droste- 
Hiilshoff's " Judenbuche, " in which for the first time is 
introduced a careful study of environment as a determining 
factor in character; Stifter's "Brigitta" and "Bergkry- 
stall" in which landscape plays an unprecedented part in 
the development of the story; Grillparzer 's "Der arme Spiel- 
mann" and Morike's "Mozart auf der Reise nach Prag," in 
both of which the striking element lies not in the events, but in 
the character of the heroes; andLudwig's "Zwischen Himmel 
und Erde," which in length and complexity of problem far 
outstrips its predecessors. 

This selection is on the whole very happy. These Novellen 
exhibit great range of subjects, variations of length, and, 
what is more important, a gradual shifting of interest from 
external action to psychological development, and are all 
obedient to those principles which, as Bastier has shown, are 
basic for the German Novelle. 

In Ch. IV, "L 'action de la Nouvelle," B. introduces a 
detailed comparison between Goethe's "Prokurator" and its 
source "Le sage Nicaise ou PAmant vertueux," the last of 
the "Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles." In opposition to other com- 
mentators, including the meticulous Diintzer, B. makes evi- 
dent that Goethe, so far from contenting himself with a mere 
translation of his source, gives to the old tale by means of lit- 
tle touches and changes in almost every line, concentration and 
psychological motivation. Thus these two modern elements 
were introduced into the German Novelle as early as 1795 by 
its first powerful representative. 

Ch. V, "Les Caracteres et la Caracteristique dans la Nou- 
velle," insists that the Novelle, more than any other form 
of literary art, demands elimination and concentration. This 
demand necessitates technical short-cuts which neither the 
Roman (novel) nor the Erzahlung (tale) requires. Some of 
these are: characteristic words ("mots-racines du charac- 
tere" p. 235), characteristic acts ("actes racines" p. 238), 
gestures (p. 239), and he might have added what the Ger- 
mans call "stumme Rede" (significant silences), all tending 
to throw a strong lime-light on the center of the problem. More 
instances derived from the Novellen discussed in Chapter III 



Bastier's La Nouvelle Individualiste En Allemagne 115 

would have been helpful to the reader. B. emphasizes that the 
Novelle has only apparent similarity with the novel (Roman), 
whereas in structure it is intimately allied to the drama. For, 
while the object of the Roman is to show the character slowly 
developing as the result of the actions, both the drama and the 
Novelle show the reaction of the finished character upon 
stimuli from without. B. makes a very fine differentiation be- 
tween the nature of the action called forth in the drama and 
that called forth in the Novelle. In the former, the hero re- 
sponds with an habitual, characteristic act. (We need but 
think of "Macbeth," "Wallenstein," "Enemy of the People," 
etc.). In the Novelle, the unheard-of event takes the hero by 
surprise, and in the "sauve-qui-peut" (as B. aptly calls it) the 
response comes from some hitherto dormant trait ("Kohl- 
haas," " Schimmelreiter, " "L' Arrabbiata," etc.). The only 
point of criticism on this suggestive passage would be that B. 
rather dogmatically attributes this characteristic to all Ger- 
man Novellen, while it is true essentially only of what we may 
call "dramatic" Novellen. 

Ch. VI, "L'Idee dans la Nouvelle," and ch. VII, "La con- 
ception de la Nouvelle," though containing some interesting 
details, seem to me to offer little of striking importance. 

In Ch. VIII, "La Composition de la Nouvelle," B. dis- 
cusses with care the manner in which the concentration ne- 
cessary to the Novelle is brought about. Significant instances 
of this concentration by means of elimination are to be found 
in Droste-Hulfshoff's "Die Judenbuche" and Grillparzer's 
' ' Der arme Spielmann. " As a lyricist, Droste-Hiilshoff ranks 
among the most felicituous nature-poets. In her Novelle she 
omits all nature-painting not absolutely germain to the ac- 
tion, and Grillparzer, in his "Arme Spielmann" makes but 
sparing use of that wealth of phrasing which lends glow to his 
dramas (pp. 382f.). 

In Ch. IX, "L'Effet dans la Nouvelle," the author brings 
out that distinction between the Novelle and the Roman which 
resides in the fact that in the former the problem is carefully 
isolated, although thrown into relief against a larger back- 
ground. However, B. seems to me to lay exaggerated em- 
phasis upon the value of the unity of time and place for this 
purpose (p. 386). 

Ch. X, ' ' Conte et Nouvelle, ' ' contrasts the Novelle with the 
Erzdhlung (tale). The latter, though it may be admirable in 
its way, need not show the concentration of plot which marks 
the Novelle, or may be more loosely constructed, or may be 
merely a sketch. Instances of looseness are furnished by many 
of the "Romanticists," and exaggerated brevity, which gives 
us the skeleton of a Novelle rather than a finished work of 



art, are found among the stories of the "Young Germans," 
for instance Laube, Gutzkow, etc. 

Ch. XI, "La Valeur Ethnique de la Nouvelle Individual- 
iste," sums up many of the results which B. has attained 
throughout the book. He once more emphasizes the fact that 
a good Novelle, so far from being merely an abbreviated 
Roman, or an enlarged episode thereof, is a highly specialized 
art-form, requiring of its author complete maturity of intel- 
lect and technique, and a serious conception of life. The 
most important development which the German Novelle shows 
during the nineteenth century is the gradual deflection of 
interest from the striking event to the striking personality. 

Here B. seems to me to fail to furnish the explanation for 
the efflorescence and importance of the Novelle in Germany 
towards which his chapter-heading "ethnical" seems to point. 
The center of every Novelle worthy of the name is, as we have 
seen, a striking situation which calls out idiosyncracy of char- 
acter. The Novelle must, therefore, of necessity endear itself 
to a nation as fundamentally idiosyncratic as are the Germans. 
Moreover, the exuberance of the German character, which is so 
largely responsible for the richness of German culture, has, 
when unchecked, at times lead to artistic inadequacy. A 
striking illustration is furnished by the works of Jean Paul, 
those formless treasure-troves of fertile intuitions. When 
checked by severe and definite laws, as in the drama and espe- 
cially in the Novelle, this same exuberance has helped to bring 
forth works of a very high order. Hence the Novelle would 
appear to be the organic literary expression of a people to 
whom laws governing the very details of domestic and civic 
life instinctively appeal as a necessary check to inherent exu- 
berance, and ineradicable individualism. 

This book, in spite of a certain lack of skill in arrange- 
ment, and on occasional tendency to dogmatize, is to be wel- 
comed as giving valuable insight into the character and forma- 
tion of the German Novelle. A historical treatment of the 
subject, dealing with all its important exponents, from Goethe 
to Schnitzler would help to call attention to the value of the 
German Novelle as a vital contribution to modern literature, 
and one with which English criticism has as yet dealt but 
scantily. 

Following are a few details which suggest themselves 
in connection with points raised by the author. Pp. 15ff. 
The confusion between Novelle and Roman was encouraged, 
in my opinion, by the appearance of the German translations 
of Scott's "Waverly Novels." These were often called "Wa- 
very Novellen." (See for instance Kopke, "Tieck," II, 
p. 44). 



Bastier's La Nouvelle Individualist e En Allemagne 117 

P. 17. An additional proof of the immense popularity of 
the Novelle in Germany before 1850 is furnished by a little 
publication entitled ' ' Novellenkranz, " Paris 1840, the pur- 
pose of which was to introduce Frenchmen to the spirit of 
German Literature. 

P. 18. It would have been worth while to give a more 
detailed list of translations from the Italian, Spanish, and 
French tales, to show the close affinity between the early Ger- 
man Novellen and their models. As early as 1823, in other 
words more than ten years before Billow, Rumohr put out his 
volume " Italienische Novellen von historischem Interesse." 
Furthermore, the Decamerone was used to an extraordinary 
extent at the end of the eighteenth century and the beginning 
of the nineteenth. Miss F. N. Jones's pamphlet, "Boccaccio 
and his Imitators in German, English, French, Spanish, and 
Italian Literature. The Decameron." Chicago, 1910 and J. 
B. E. Jonas 's review of it in "The Journ. of Eng. and Germ. 
Phil." Vol. X, pp. 105ff, would have furnished excellent ma- 
terial. 

P. 35 (also pp. 313, 314). In commenting on the didactic 
element of the Novelle, a brief history of its development in 
the course of the centuries would have been helpful. In the 
Middle Ages, the short tale often pretended to a moralizing 
content. The same tendency appears all through the Renais- 
sance ; so for instance, Decamerone I, 5 ; X, 8, etc. ; Sacchetti, 
Cervantes, etc.). In the eighteenth century, in consequence 
of the rise of the middle-class literature, which was to contri- 
bute not merely to amusement but to moral uplift, this didac- 
tic tendency became a passion. Instances are : Defoe's preface 
to "Moll Flanders," Lillo's "London Merchant," Richard- 
son's novels: the "Moralische Wochenschrif ten ; " Gellert's 
works; Alfieri's insistence on "the literary tribunes forming 
the conscience of the nations" are cases in point. In France 
appeared "Poemes moraux," "Discours moraux," "Baga- 
telles morales," etc., etc. In fields outside of literature the 
same trend comes to the surface, as appears from Hogarth's 
pictures, and, last but not least, from an utterance in Jona- 
than Richardson, the painter and art-critic's essay "On the 
Whole Art of Criticism in Relation to Painting" (1719). 
Here the author declares that he would not hesitate to pro- 
nounce a picture excellent, though faulty in drawing, if it 
filled the mind with noble and instructive ideas. In this 
atmosphere a "moral" element in the tale was bound to be- 
come prominent. Hence the immense sway of "moral" stor- 
ies, the most famous of which are, of course, the "Contes 
moraux" of Marmontel. The German Novelle inherited this 
proclivity. In Goethe's "Unterhaltungen," in Brentano's 



118. von Klenze 

"Kasperl und Annerl" it remains unobstructive. In Kleist, 
who published his first Novellen as ' ' moralischeErzahlungen, ' ' 
it is not much more than a convention. Keller's exceedingly 
felicituous use of it shows us how the German Novelle, in the 
course of its evolution, managed to turn into an organic ele- 
ment what had so often been a pedantic accessory. 

P. 41. Although I agree with B. in regarding Goethe's 
definition as on the whole the most satisfactory, I feel that 
care should be exercised in accepting it without criticism. 
After all, Goethe, like other critics of his day, bases his defini- 
tion on the type of ''novellas" found in the Italian Renais- 
sance, especially in Boccaccio. A. W. Schlegel, for instance, 
expresses the idea of "unerhorte Begebenheit" in virtually 
the same terms. ' ' In der Novelle musz etwas geschehen. Ein 
dreister energischer Charakter der Sitten ist ihr daher vor- 
teilhaft, und es laesst sich mehr als bezweifeln, ob es in Zeiten, 
wo das Leben sich in lauter Kleinlichkeiten zerbroekelt. . . . 
moeglich sein duerfte, eine solche Masse von Novellen aufzu- 
bringen, die in unsern Sitten gegruendet and der Denkart des 
Zeitalters angemessen waeren, als die unter den Boccazischen 
sind, welche einen historischen Grund haben und das damalige 
Zeitalter schildern." (Vorlesungen ueber schoene Litteratur 
und Kunst, 1803-4, Seufferts Litteraturdenkmale, Bd. 19, p. 
245). B. furthermore, to my sense, underrates the contribu- 
tion of Heyse, who by insisting on a firm technique ("scharfe 
Silhouette") has done much for the formal perfection of the 
German Novelle. On the other hand B. is right in rejecting 
Heyse 's "Wendepunkt" as non-essential. Heyse, like every- 
body else including Goethe and Hebbel spoke pro domo. 

P. 263. In connection with the discussion on the affinity 
between drama and Novelle it may not be amiss to recall that 
Tieck divided one of his Novellen "Die Vogelscheuche "- 
into acts and scenes, and in the "Prolog" apologizes for not 
prefixing a "dramatis personae," "da diese Novelle zugleich 
ein Dramaist." Yet the difference in principle between this 
purely mechanical superimposition of the dramatic form upon 
a tale which is essentially undramatic, and the inherent dra- 
matic quality of Kleist 's closely-knit Novellen, like "Die 
Marquise von 0," is obvious. 

P. 414. In treating the difference between the Novelle and 
the tale on the one hand and the mere sketch on the other, B. 
might well have contrasted Laube's "Die Novelle," con- 
spicuous for flimsiness and superficiality, with Goethe's "No- 
velle," distinguished for carefulness of workmanship and for 
"sens profond," and might have pointed out that in the 
"Deutsche Rundschau," for January, 1907, a great modern 
German narrator, Marie von Ebner-Eschenbach, in an article 



Zurlinden's Gedanken Platons in der Deutschen Romantik 119 

entitled ' ' Novellenstoffe " in delightful fashion illumines the 
difference between the raw material for a Novelle and the 
finished product. 

Inasmuch as B. subconsciously conceives the Novelle in 
terms of the "dramatic" Novelle, it seems strange that he 
nowhere mentions the dissertation by H. Becker "Kleist and 
Hebbel. A comparative Study" Chicago, 1904, which in the 
discussion of the technique of that type of Novelle anticipates 
many of B. 's results. 

A misleading typographical error occurs in note 2, p. 65. 
The passage from the " Farbenlehre " is to be found in "Ab- 
teilung" 2. 

The usefulness of this book would have been greatly in- 
creased by an index. CAMILLO VON KLENZE. 

Brown University. 



LUISE ZURLINDEN: GEDANKEN PLATONS IN DER 
DEUTSCHEN ROMANTIK. Untersuchungen zur neu- 
eren Sprach- und Literatur-Geschichte, herausgegeben von 
Professor Dr. Oskar F. Walzel. Neue Folge. VIII. Heft, 
pp. VIII -f 292. H. Haessel Verlag in Leipzig. 1910. 
Fraulein Zurlinden has undertaken a most interesting 
study, the influence direct or indirect of Plato upon the 
Romantic movement in Germany, and it comes out at a pecu- 
liarly apposite moment when three of the leading classical 
philologists of Germany and Russia, Crusius, Immiseh and 
Zielinski have just announced a significant series of 
studies in the same general field, entitled "Das Erbe der 
Alien." From the viewpoint of Kulturgeschichte her essay 
would have had more significance had she been able to trace 
the channels through which Plato affected Romanticists, for 
it is only in a limited degree, of course, that any but a select 
few (such as Schleiermacher and the Schlegels particularly) 
could have come in direct contact with him through first hand 
knowledge of his own works. This she makes no attempt to 
do (cf. Vorw. p. VI) and we can hardly take it amiss, for 
such a study would indeed have involved a sketch of the whole 
intellectual development of Europe since the Renaissance. 

Interesting as is the subject, it is even more elusive and 
difficult. It would be hard to find terms which more success- 
fully defy scientific definition than just "Romanticism" and 
' ' Platonism. ' ' Almost anything may be postulated of Roman- 
ticism and be substantiated in some measure at least out of its 
manifold ramifications, and the same is to an even higher 
degree true to Platonism. The case is simpler if we restrict 



120 Oldfather 

ourselves (as Fraulein Zurlinden has done in fact, though 
not in title} to the "Romantic School," meaning thereby the 
group which gathered about the Schlegels, Tieck and Novalis 
(including the Heidelberg branch in a lesser degree), and it is 
to that alone that reference is henceforth made in this review ; 
but even the limitation "Gedanken Platans" does not help 
in the second ambiguity. For Plato's has been ever amighty 
name to conjure with, and the principal source of the uni- 
versality of his appeal lies in this that he is many men in one. 
Quite as wonderful as the quality of any one of his gifts is 
the diversity of them: he is himself the best example of "the 
One in the Many, ' ' or varying the figure, Plato is not so much 
a philosopher, as a veritable Platonic Idea of Philosophy it- 
self. Artist and moralist, statesman and mystic, logician and 
prophet, representatives of the most diverse tendencies can 
find some nook in Plato's brain to nestle in and think from 
thence to use Emerson's quaint phrase. And it was so from the 
first. Pupils of Plato could be found, in the stormy half- 
century ushered in by Philip of Macedon, on any and all 
sides (and not always the most creditable) of every social 
or revolutionary activity. The same diversity of emphasis 
obtained likewise in the quieter precincts of the Academy 
itself. The scientific and the mystic spirit were ever at 
variance, now one in triumph with Karneades, now the other 
with Plotinos. And so in the progress of human thought 
logician and Sufi, Benthamite and transcendentalist, commun- 
ist and aristocratic have discovered each his own solution of 
the world-riddle in the universality of Plato's thought. "There 
are few, if any, ancient authors" says Mill (and he might 
have added modern as well), "concerning whose mind and 
purpose so many demonstrably false opinions are current, as 
concerning Plato. ' ' 

In this very difficult field then Fraulein Zurlinden has, 
granting the limitations she has herself set, done a creditable 
piece of work. Beginning with Fr. Schlegel she passes on to 
Schleiermacher and Novalis and concludes with Bettina. The 
last named has evidently the largest share in her sympathy, as 
indeed in her preface she admits that it was from loving study 
of Bettina she was led back to Schleiermacher and from him 
to Schlegel. Novalis is included doubtless as the most re- 
fined and spiritual of the whole circle, the only one who, all 
the "Romanticists" agreed, was in possession of Religion, 
however much they disputed at times one another's claims to 
it. After a brief but on the whole satisfactory sketch of Pla- 
to's theories of education, art, social ethics and politics, and 
philosophic religion, Friedrich Schlegel's works are con- 
sidered from the same points of view and in the same order. 



Zurlinden's Gedanken Platons in der Deutschen Eomantik 121 

Not a few similarities are pointed out. Though we may dis- 
sent from so vigorous a metaphor as "Platon hatte die ver- 
wandte Saite in Fr. Schlegel geweckt, und so klingt Platon 
wie die Dominante aus dem Grundakkord seiner Arbeiten" 
(p. 17), and hesitate to accept Schlegel's own estimate of his 
work: "Die Romane sind die Sokratischen Dialoge unserer 
Zeit" imagine Lucinde serving as a "Socratic dialogue"! 
We can conceive Plato's disgust at the "sittliche Bildung" 
of Lucinde, where a woman is considered "sittlich," "wenn 
sie die Sinne achtet und ehrt, die Natur, sich selbst und die 
Mannlichkeit, " or Schlegel's prerequisite of all morality 
"sein Herz hoher zu ehren als seine Begriffe. " And I for one 
can see no similarity between Schlegel's ' ' bescranktem Ehe- 
kommunismus, wenigstens eine Ehe a quatre," and the firmly 
regulated pairings of the best fit which Plato demanded. 
Such instances as these might be multiplied easily, though 
it should not be inferred that Fraulein Zurlinden has over- 
looked all or even many differences; particularly well does 
she notice that Schlegel's Freiheit takes the place of Plato's 
Gerechtigkeit, though perhaps more might have been made 
of this fundamental divergence. The chapter on Schleier- 
macher, who, as his Platonic studies, and particularly his mas- 
terly translation would show, was permeated thoroughly with 
the mystical element of Platonism, is instructive, although 
now and then in the thin air of these metaphysical abstrac- 
tions one has an uncomfortable feeling that the transcen- 
dental ego, beauty, good, etc. dissolve into one another, and 
words cease to have scientific, and take on emotional val- 
ues. The ten commandments for marriage of which much 
is made, would doubtless have made entertaining, but quite 
as certainly surprising reading for Plato. Interesting is the 
comparison of Schleiermacher's Eheversuch with Plato's spe- 
culations, though one may doubt if Plato regarded his pro- 
posal as not an Endzweck, but only a "Mittel zur Herbeifiih- 
rung besserer Zustande" (p. 117). Particularly good are the 
paragraphs entitled: " Platon 's Philosophisch-religioses " p. 
119ff., with the illuminating observation: "Platons philoso- 
phische Liebe ist Schleiermacher's Religion," which is really 
the kernal of the whole matter. 

The youthful favorites of Novalis were Plato and Hem- 
sterhuis, and Fraulein Zurrlinden has drawn many close paral- 
lels here, especially calling to mind what one does not gen- 
erally think of first about Novalis, i. e. his political fragments 
(p. 203 ff.). The differences that here abound are perhaps 
mainly those of temperament and physique. It were difficult 
to imagine the sturdy Aristokles, nicknamed ' ' Platon ' ' by his 
gymnastic trainer for breadth of shoulders and physical vigor, 



122 Oldfather 

ever experiencing Novalis' fantastic adoration and despair 
for Sophie, so soon followed by his contentment with Julie 
as her reincarnation, and so Plato 's eighty years of tireless and 
varied activity crowned with perfected labors contrast sharp- 
ly with the frailty and incompleteness of Novalis' less than 
three decades, as indeed Fraulein Zurlinden expresses it her- 
self gracefully: "Novalis Denken und Dichten neben Platons 

gigantischer Lebensarbeit verhalten sich zu ein- 

ander wie Sehnsucht und Erfiillung." As frequently through- 
out the study the writer's enthusiasm would see likeness in 
details where none exists, there is also a tendency to em- 
phasize similarities, which though true, are too general to 
show specific Platonic origin, as for example: "Platon und 
Novalis diirsten nach Verbindung der Seele mit Gott durch 
die Liebe" a characteristic of any highly developed religion 
and not a peculiarly Platonic doctrine. 

The last chapter, that on Bettina, is written with the great- 
est enthusiasm, and is a charming essay. Really striking skill 
is shown in marshalling the points of contact between this 
most non-hellenic figure and the great self-controlled philo- 
sopher. Direct influence to any great degree is out of the 
question here : Schleiermacher was the channel which led her 
to Plato (p. 229) though in her youth she had been forced 
to read Hemsterhuis to her grandmother and as she even 
refused to read Schleiermacher 's own works, preferring merely 
the inspiration of personal contact, much exact knowledge of 
what Plato actually wrote was necessarily denied her. And 
again Bettina 's yearning for vivacity that left her still a 
coquette at 60 years of age, for ' ' Urspriinglichkeit " which led 
her, so soon as she heard of Sokrates, to long for a "Daimon" 
in her own bosom with which she also could converse (of 
course she heard it finally!), are traits of character as un- 
platonic as one could imagine. Yet it were ungenerous to 
dwell overmuch here on points of opposition and so spoil the 
effect of the spirited and well-written chapter which succeeds 
to the full in proving that with all her vivacity there was much 
more of a really serious purport about Bettina 's life and work, 
especially her late political essay, than one had been accus- 
tomed to think from Brandes or Ricarda Huch. 

And yet it is not enough in the well-proportioned study 
of the influence that a single genius has exerted upon a school 
of thought to select merely points of contact as is here done. 
Fraulein Zurlinden has written a very sizeable book to show 
that Plato did influence certain Romanticists in certain ways ; 
quite as large a treatise might be written to evidence the 
striking disaccord between Plato and the general course of 
Romantic thought and life. 



Zurlinden's GedanJcen Platons in der Deutschen Romantik 123 

It would surely be difficult to extract much that was 
"Platonic" from Tieck perhaps, all things considered, the 
most typical Romanticist or Hofmann, Holderlin, Clemens 
Brentano, Gorres, or many another. In fact the surprising 
thing is not that these and other Romanticists were little in- 
fluenced by Plato for no European lives or ever can live 
totally unaffected by him, but rather that a few figures in 
this school of thought were consciously impressed by some of 
his ideas. For it should not remain unsaid that in many an 
important point Plato's philosophy and Plato's life were not 
akin to the ideals of the "Romantic School." To touch only 
a few of the most salient features : In the field of Ethics the 
dominance of instinct and the consequent admiration of man 
in the state of nature, the half -fanatical exaltation of love, the 
revelling in the refined pleasures of sensibilite,ihe passivity to- 
wards life as though it were a stringed instrument to be played 
upon by the hands of fate, disintegration of personality and 
partial justification of the same (i. e. duality of genius, "Dop- 
pelg'dngerei," " Somnambulismus," " Magnetismus," etc.), 
praise of the morbid (as that Jean Paul was greater than the 
stars because "krankhafter"), the avowed purpose of weld- 
ing the emotions and the intellect, the insistence upon "das 
Sinnliche," a character "faul und stolz auf seine Faulheit" 
(Ricarda Huch) these are all traits as alien as possible to 
the historical Plato, who all his life long maintained the para- 
dox of the identity of virtue and knowledge, or perhaps rather 
that right conduct is but the immediate consequence of knowl- 
edge for the sound will. For Plato to listen to one's "Trieb" 
the many-headed monster in man's belly (to use the vigor- 
ous figure of the Republic) were to destroy the very possi- 
bility of ethics. And it was Plato who condemned the drama 
and even poetry in general because it "relaxes the emotional 
fibre," whose ideal was "a quietness of soul bordering on 
rigidity," for whom the chief virtues were justice, whose per- 
fect realization demanded the complete reorganization of so- 
ciety, and <rw<f>po<rvvr], self discipline, "a proud and dignified 
reserve", not "love" and "spontaneity." Shorey has hap- 
pily expressed the kernal of Plato 's ethics as they are outlined 
on the broad canvass of the Republic, his greatest work: 
' ' The dominance of the higher reason over undisciplined emo- 
tion and controlled appetite is the sole effective condition at 
once of the unity, harmony and health of spiritual life which 
is happiness, and of the unswerving fulfillment of obligation, 
which is the external manifestation of justice and virtue. ' ' 

The anthropology of the Romantic School fares no bet- 
ter. Its constant assertion of the generic differences be- 
tween men and women, the creative and the receptive, the 



124 Oldfather 

intellectual and the emotional, the rational and the intui- 
tional, its consequent attempt to suffuse reason with emotion, 
its ideal of "sanfte Mannlichkeit und selbstandige Weiblich- 
keit," "die Weiblichkeit soil wie die Mannlichkeit zur ho- 
heren Menschlichkeit gereinigt werden," the false perspec- 
tive into which the relation of the sexes was thus thrown, 
with the desperate absurdities to which romantic love led, 
of all this it is hard to find any real traces in Plato. Surely the 
demand of the Republic that women share with men all social 
functions, even war, does not mean that men and women were 
to be fused into some higher "humankind." Woman is for 
Plato the "weaker," or the "lesser man"; "many women sur- 
pass many men in many ways" he says distinctly; whatever 
difference there be is one not of kind but of degree. 1 This 
common sense view should be borne in mind when talking of 
Plato's doctrine of love. We must here deal with a word 
which defies scientific definition, and any one who is accus- 
tomed to its transcendental connotations is proof against the 
reasonings of mere philology. Nevertheless the great mass of 
the openminded will, I believe, be willing to grant that, though 
Plato and St. Paul wrote much of love, they meant thereby 
something really very different not only from each other's 
conceptions, but also from the emotions glorified in Lucinde, 
or Heinrich von Ofterdingen. "Platonic love" (if one may 
use the perilous phrase) was scarcely inspired by womankind 
at all, but rather by beautiful boys. Plato exalted it not as a 
" Naturtrieb, " but for the purpose of encouraging and com- 
municating virtue, and it was withal so soon transcendenta- 
lized into a mystical love of the abstract ideas of the univer- 
sal good and beautiful, and so involved in the search for phi- 
losophical truth, that it is manifestly an emotion which only 
the rarest spirits at the rarest moments could attain or even 
understand. Jewett pertinently observes: "The union of 
the greatest comprehension of knowledge and the burning 
intensity of love is a contradiction in nature, which may have 
existed in a far-off primeval age in the mind of some Hebrew 
prophet or other Eastern sage, but has now become an ima- 
gination only. There may be some few perhaps one 
or two in a whole generation in whom the light of 
truth may not lack the warmth of desire. And if there be 
such natures, no one will be disposed to deny that 'from 
them flow most of the benefits of individuals and states. ' ' 

Hand in hand with romantic love goes the romantic nature- 
fallacy, that naive delight at "discovering" in Nature the 

l An excellent collection of the passages bearing on woman in Plato 
may be found in the Dissertation of Pantazides: Plato's philosophy of 
womankind (Modern Greek), Freiburg i. B. 1901. 



Zurlinden's Gedanken Platons in der Deutschen Eomantik 125 

very mood which you have just foisted upon her, of which 
it need hardly be said, there exists not the slightest trace in 
Plato, or for that matter in any of the sober-minded ancients. 

Or again the whole philosophic attitude of Plato is utterly 
alien to that of the "Romantic School." No one can follow 
his brilliant dialectical achievements, his subtle discrimina- 
tions, his insistence upon exactness of concept and expression, 
his demand that the Kosmos be subjected to a rational inter- 
pretation, without feeling that his life work, as well as that 
of his master and of his greatest pupil was to clarify, discrim- 
inate and order. An occasional overbelief may admit of 
statement for the time being only in myth or paradox, but 
Plato is never content to leave it thus. The noblest of such, 
the identity of virtue and happiness, he will not merely 
enunciate as in the Gorgias, with a wealth of emotional rhe- 
toric, but he will support it with rational, if not entirely dis- 
passionate arguments, throughout the whole course of the 
Republic: and the immortality of the soul is not merely 
posited in the myths, but debated pro and contra with the 
sharpest weapons of a conscientious dialectic in the Phaedo. 
Contrast with this the "Weltanschauung of Romanticism, its 
basis in Fichte's subjective ' ' Ich-Philosophie, ' ' as against 
Plato's well-nigh passionate insistence upon the objective 
reality of his general ideas, its exaltation of the occult and 
the obscure, that soon sent it running after the strange gods 
of pseudoscience, Magnetismus, Rhabdomantie, Symphismus, 
Physiognomik, Cranioskopie, Symbolik, Astrologie, etc. One 
cannot but feel that Plato, had he then lived, would have la- 
mented as did the aging Goethe that he had been compelled to 
see the world "vermodern und in ihre Elemente zuriick- 
kehren," that he had sought "als Plastiker sich Natur und 
"Welt klar zu machen, nun machte jene (the Romanticists) 
wieder einen Dunst dariiber. ' ' 

Or in character: The Romantic School produced, no 
whole, four-square men, no single complete artistic achieve- 
ment. All was partial, full of yearning, dreams unrealized. 
Their lives as their works were willful, inharmonious, incom- 
plete ; they strove beyond their powers, and in attempting all 
perfected nothing. How different the calm and dignified 
harmony of Plato and of the master he idealized, the serious- 
ness, the self-control, and withal perfect success in the one 
chosen life-task. It is a fact not without significance that So- 
krates had been tempted all his life long to write poetry, but 
had refrained, and that Plato threw into the fire a complete 
drama when first he came under the master's influence. If 
only the Romanticists had more often done the same ! 



126 von Klenze 

And so though we owe a permanent debt of gratitude to 
the Romantic movement for recovering "wonder," that 
"great specific against aridity of heart and woodenness of 
intellect," we must guard against identifying its activity as 
a whole too closely with the philosophical system of Plato. 

W. A. OLDFATHER. 

The University of Illinois. 



VOLKMANN, O. F.: Wilhelm Busch der Poet. Seine Mo- 
tive und seine Quellen. Untersuchungen zur neueren 
Sprach- und Literatur-Geschichte, herausgegeben von 
0. F. Walzel. Neue Folge. V. Heft. Leipzig, Haessel, 
1910. 8, 85ss. 

WINTHER, FRITZ: Wilhelm Busch als Dichter, Kiinstler, 
Psychologe und Philosoph. University of California Pub- 
lications in Modern Philology. Vol. 2, No. 1. Berkeley, 
1910. 8, 79ss. 

Diese zwei Abhandlungen beweisen, dasz Wilhelm Busch, 
der bisher fiir die Meisten, wie Volkmann sich nicht gerade 
ganz gliicklich ausgedriickt, immer noch als "ulkiges Litera- 
turkaninchen " gilt (S. 1), endlieh anfangt, als echter Kiinst- 
ler anerkannt zu werden. Die Schrift von V. weist nach, dasz 
Busch, weit davon entfernt, neue Motive zu schaifen, sich 
fast iiberall an Vorlagen angelehnt hat. Wer seine Werke 
durchmustert, wird finden, "dasz er sich auf Schritt und 
Tritt in bekanntem Gelande befindet, wenn es auch nicht im- 
mer moglich ist, die genauen Quellen anzugeben" (S. 64). 
Es zeigt sich also einmal wieder, dasz die Originalitat eines 
Kiinstlers fast lediglich in der Behandlung liegt. V. fiihrt 
ferner aus, dasz Busch wegen "seines innigen Verstandnis- 
ses fiir alles Kleine und Enge, wie es dorfliche, bauerliche und 
kleinbiirgerliche Verhaltnisse mit sich bringen" (S. 8), natur- 
gemasz groszes Interesse hatte fiir Lieder, Sagen, und Mar- 
chen aller Art. So kommt es denn, dasz alle moglichen langst 
bekannten Marchenmotive bei ihm auftreten, die er aus 
Grimm, aus Andersen, und aus anderen Quellen geschopft 
hat. S. 34ff.). Ebenso findet sich der Einflusz des Volks- 
liedes wiederholt bei ihm, besonders aber der der Fabel (S. 
53ff.). Miinchhausen, Lessing, Hagedorn, Aesop, Lafontaine 
und andere hat er in seiner Weise gepliindert. Sehr hiibsch 
verfolgt V., wie Busch des Gegebene fiir seine Zwecke umzu- 
biegen weisz, und oft aus etwas Unbedeutendem eine tief- 
sinnige Humoreske schafft; vgl. z. B. Busch 's "Der alte Narr" 
mit der Fassung bei Pauli "Schimpf und Ernst." (S. 65). 
Literarische Vorbilder, die Busch vorgeschwebt haben mo- 



0. F. Volkmann; Fritz Winther 127 

gen, werden S. 12ff. behandelt. Unter ihnen waren beson- 
ders zu nennen: Kortum (S. 16), Renter (S. 21), die 
Schwankliteratur, Fastnachtsspiele (S. 25), usw. Selbst 
Brehms "Tierleben" hat herhalten miissen. Es war ein 
gliicklicher Gedanke, diesen Motiven nachzugehen. Zweifels- 
ohne liesze sich noch manches auffinden, das V. entgangen 1st. 

Winther will uns in des groszen Humoristen Denkweise 
und Arbeitsmethode einfiihren. Die Untersuchung zerfallt 
in zwei Teile. In anregender Weise zeigt uns W., wie scharf 
Buseh beobachtet und wie er komponiert (S. 2ff.). Dann 
wird uns seine Weltanschauung vorgefuhrt. Als "frohlichen 
Pessimisten" miissen wir ihn uns denken. "Die Welt ist 
schlecht, aber sie ist unendlich komisch." Daher sie ihm als 
Tragi-Komodie erscheint. (S. 23). Der Mensch aber ist 
von Haus aus konsequent grausam und egoistisch ("Denn 
der Mensch als Kreatur, Hat von Riicksicht nicht die Spur" 
S. 23). Und in diese schlechte und grausame Welt setzt er 
nun seinen hilflosen Philister (S. 26), der ihr schlechterdings 
nicht gewachsen ist. Denn kleine und kleinliche Verhaltnisse 
reizen Busch am meisten. Seine Welt ist jenes Deutschland 
urgemiitlicher, urkomischer, unweltlaufiger, pedantischer 
Kautze, das unter dem Anprall moderner Anschauungen und 
Einrichtungen ich hatte fast gesagt : leider mehr und mehr 
verschwindet. Ein gut Stuck Grausamkeit, das an der Qual 
dieser Seelchen Freude findet, fehlt Busch auch nicht und 
verleiht vielen seiner Einfalle eine ganz eigentiimliche Wiirze 
(S. 18). 

Statt fortwahrend Shakespeare, Moliere, Ibsen, Marlowe, 
Raphael, etc. heranzuziehen, wodurch in die Besprechung ein 
Element unwiderstehlicher Komik eingefiihrt wird, hatte W. 
besser getan, Busch mit Oliver Herford zu vergleichen. Auch 
dieser verbindet Wort und Bild in glucklichster Weise, und 
ist dabei doch in mancher Hinsicht der Antipode von Busch. 
Und wenn denn verglichen werden muszte, so ware die Neben- 
einanderstellung des Philisters beim Spatromantiker Busch 
und bei Brentano und Eichendorff anregend gewesen. Un- 
serm Busch macht sein Philister doch schliesslich diebischen 
Spasz. Den Romantikern dagegen ist der Philister verhaszt. 
Er steht der Verbreitung ihrer neuen genialen Ideen uberall 
im Wege. Daher nennt ihn Brentano "die komische Kari- 
katur-Silhouette des Teuf els, ' ' und Eichendorff laszt den Kri- 
tikus in "Krieg den Philistern" auf die Philister schlagen 
und ruf en : ' ' Wer nicht das Leben f aszt, hat auch kein Recht 
darauf . ' ' 

Der zweite Teil der Schrift fallt sehr gegen den ersten ab. 
Die langen Zitate und kurzen Besprechungen fiihren uns die 



128 Upham 

Wandlungen in den spateren Werken Buschs nicht mit genii- 
gender Klarheit vor. 

Hoffentlich erscheint in Balde eine erschopfende Charak- 
teristik des Kiinstlers, die ihm nach jeder Richtung hin ge- 
recht wird. Vielleicht wird sie dann auch die fromme Sage 
entkraften helfen, die immer noch in England und Amerika 
umgeht, wonach "the Germans have no humor." 

Brown University. CAMILLO VON KLENZE. 



THE CAMBRIDGE HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERA- 
TURE. Edited by A. W. Ward and A. R. Waller. Vol- 
ume III. Renascence and Reformation. Cambridge, 1909. 
Volume IV. Prose and Poetry. Sir Thomas North to 
Michael Drayton. Cambridge, 1910. (University Press). 

In approaching the consideration of these rather ponder- 
ous volumes, at least three methods of treatment present 
themselves. The most tempting plan, already employed in 
one or two instances, is to select some half-dozen chapters, 
which for one reason or another appeal most to the reviewer, 
and deal with them carefully to the practical exclusion of all 
others. Another method would center our interest on min- 
utiae, with the purpose of noting inaccuracy or omission of 
small but important details. This seems as inappropriate as 
the other is uneven ; and, applied to so many diverse chapters, 
would be too scattering to carry much weight. Preferable 
to either of these, perhaps, is an attempt to consider the two 
volumes as composite wholes, or rather as one composite 
whole, for they are obviously complementary to each other; 
and to pass judgment upon them along the lines denned by the 
editors in the brief prefaces printed thus far with the series. 

Such consideration will probably touch upon nothing not 
already anticipated by the able editors themselves, and most 
of the exceptions taken will no doubt be mere commentaries 
upon the difficulties involved in a cooperative undertaking of 
this character. With the appearance of Volume IV, however, 
the series has reached a point at which it may expect to stand 
upon its merits and to satisfy the expectations of the critical 
public. Experience has brought its lessons, various adjust- 
ments have been made, and the machinery is presumably in 
the best working order. Moreover, the literary expression of 
the aggressive and versatile Elizabethan and Jacobean per- 
iods is admirably calculated to test the ultimate possibilities 
of this approved modern system, foreshadowed even in that 
early day by the processes of Raphael Holinshed. 



The Cambridge History of English Literature 129 

As a matter of fact, the most apparent and perhaps the 
greatest difficulty of this work, itself a refined product of 
system, lies in the systematizing of it; in the division and 
coordination of the masses of material, and the unifying of 
method and impression. The relations between the two vol- 
umes before us, for example, are by no means clear. At first 
glance their division is on the basis of time, Volume IV tak- 
ing up the story with the appearance of North's Plutarch in 
1579, a year peculiarly adapted to mark an epoch. In prac- 
tice, however, most of the chapters in the earlier volume 
cover the entire reign of Elizabeth, while those of Volume IV 
concerned with pure literature begin with the new century. 
On the contrary, the initial chapter of Volume IV, on Trans- 
lators, scarcely gets into the seventeenth century at all ; while 
those presenting extra-literary matters seafaring, philoso- 
phy, economics, etc. make no division from the accession of 
Elizabeth to 1625. All chapters of this sort are in the later 
volume, and are so many in number as to give it the appear- 
ance of a mere collection of addenda to Volume III. This 
impression is borne out by the less careful arrangement of 
its literary material. 

Within the volumes, problems of coordination conspire 
with those of division. To the ordinary reader many in- 
stances will appear where material may be shifted about with 
no little profit, even when certain chapters become super- 
fluous in the process. Thus the matter of Vol. Ill, ch. iii, The 
Dissolution of the Religious Houses, might well be disposed 
of in the preceding chapter on Reformation Literature and in 
ch. xix, English Universities, Schools and Scholarship. By 
giving Sir Walter Raleigh his place in Vol. Ill, ch. xv, 
Chroniclers and Antiquaries, and in the treatment of seafar- 
ing literature in Vol. IV, there would be little left to justify 
Vol. IV, ch. iii. With Raleigh included, all this discussion of 
the literature of voyage and discovery could be easily con- 
densed into one concise and well-knit chapter without reduc- 
ing its relative importance. Of less significance is the sug- 
gestion of a transfer of the treatment of German influences 
(Vol. Ill, ch. iv) to Prof. Routh, for incorporation in his 
adjoining chapter on Social Literature. Prof. Routh suffers 
most by chapter-divisions, however, when the realistic fiction 
of Nashe and Deloney is reserved for the chapter on the 
Elizabethan novel. One wonders if his frequent references 
to that chapter are an indication of regret or an evidence of 
effective cooperation. 

Volume IV seems particularly open to criticism, being 
much given to that confusion of categories which is to threaten 
this series all along the way. It is a matter of opinion whether 



130 Upham 

a history like this should distribute its material primarily 
in terms of men or in terms of literary types and tendencies. 
While the latter method seems better adapted to Elizabethan 
versatility, either one consistently pursued would serve; but 
there is little justification for deliberate confusion of them. 
Samuel Daniel, for example, after being considered among the 
sonneteers (Vol. Ill, ch. xii), in the chapter on criticism (III, 
xiv), and under the drama, shares a special chapter (IV, 
vii) with Southwell, with whom he has little in common. In 
this chapter the matter emphasized is Daniel's patriotic cele- 
bration of England and her history, in which he is recog- 
nized as paralleling Drayton; but Drayton, despite this and 
other lines of relationship, stands isolated in Vol. IV, ch. x. 1 
Thomas Campion, after being discussed under criticism and 
in the chapter on Song-books and Miscellanies (IV, vi), has 
also a chapter to himself. This last adjustment may be in 
part a recognition of commendable editorial labor upon Cam- 
pion's works, just as the Raleigh chapter, noted above, re- 
calls an earlier piece of biographical writing. 

In contrast with these chapters of "life and works," at- 
tention may be called to two divisions of Volume IV appar- 
ently falling under the other category, but really somewhat 
anomalous. In chapter ix, The Successors of Spenser, one 
might expect a careful study of the various lines of relation- 
ship between the harmonies of this master-poet and the at- 
tempts of his humble disciples. Instead there is a conven- 
tional series of hand-book sketches in the following order: 
Drummond of Hawthornden, Wither, William Browne, Fulke 
Greville, Sir John Davies, Wotton, Giles and Phineas Flet- 
cher. The ardent discipleship manifest in several of these 
men receives little attention, the thesis of the author being 
found rather in this introductory statement : ' ' There can be 
no doubt that the pamphlet of Sidney, and the poetry of 
Sidney and Spenser, gave impetus and direction to the 
work of succeeding poets. For through all the work of these 
men, varied as it is in subject and in value, runs the golden 
thread of sincerity" (p. 172). Chapter xiii, which arouses 
some curiosity as to the unifying principle under which 
Burton, John Barclay, and Owen the epigrammatist appear 
together, proves to be only a convenient receptacle for other- 
wise unattached authors who wrote in Latin or would have 
preferred to do so. It may be urged that such chapters are 

1 Southwell might find a more logical place in a chapter on the reli- 
gious poetry of the period, both Catholic and Protestant, the latter 
largely influenced by the Sidneys and by Joshua Sylvester. Under this, 
adequate treatment could be given to the spiritual sonnet, of which Mr. 
Lee makes but little in his chapter. 



The Cambridge History of English Literature 131 

in line with the fundamental purpose of the editors, to throw 
light upon the more obscure and subsidiary figures in our 
literature. But the preface to Volume I, in emphasizing this 
feature, distinctly asserts that such writers are not to be re- 
garded as isolated phenomena, but to have their places care- 
fully defined in "the history of motives, causes, and ends" 
(Vol. I, p. iii). 

This laudable intention to deal with motives, causes, and 
ends has had to contend, in these two volumes, against an 
equally laudable caution, the fear of unsupported generali- 
zation. 2 In many cases contributors have detoured so far 
about this latter pitfall as to avoid even the constructive 
critical interpretation essential to their task. The result has 
been whole chapters of chronological cataloguing, with obvious 
comment and tedious summaries. As a matter of fact, the 
strongest divisions of the work are those in which facts are 
massed and presented according to a vital but obviously un- 
prejudiced interpretation. Among these may be noted the 
work of Prof. Routh, Prof. Cunliffe, and Mr. Whibley; the 
chapter on Reformation Literature by Prof. Whitney; and 
Mr. Wilson's discussion of the Marprelate Controversy. One 
is inclined to give equal place to the work of those exper- 
ienced scholars who have frankly interpreted their portion of 
the field in the light of their favorite predisposition : notably 
Mr. Courthope in his study of Spenser (Vol. Ill, ch. xi) and 
Mr. Lee in his discussion of the Elizabethan Sonnet (Vol. 
Ill, ch. xii). 3 Least satisfying are those perfectly safe chap- 
ters, content with outlining undisputed events in authors' 
lives and summarizing their works without extracts in a 
somewhat lifeless manner. The earlier chapters of Volume 
III are particularly at fault in this regard. 

This confusion of method introduces a question which 
might well have been raised before : as to the particular class 
of readers for which these elaborate volumes are being pre- 
pared. A few of the summaries just mentioned would sug- 
gest a class having very little "literature," as Dr. Johnson 
would have said. In Volume III, for example, seven pages 
(140-146) are given to outlining Lyndsay's Pleasant Satyre 
of the Thrie Estaitis, and ten pages (462-471) to the same 
service for the Ecclesiastical Polity.* Similar evidence may 
be gathered from the attitude of many chapters toward ques- 

2 "Neither have we hesitated to limit the space devoted to generali- 
sation rather than restrict unduly that required for bibliographies" 
(Preface to Vol. Ill, p. iii). 

8 Prof. Cook's chapter on The "Authorized Version" and its Influence 
(Vol. IV, ch. ii) gives the impression of an independent study, not to 
be restricted to the general plan of the History. 

* Hooker's relations to literature are disposed of very briefly. 



132 Upham 

tions of scholarly controversy, which they either ignore entire- 
ly or view without comment from the conventional hand-book 
side. Yet it is difficult to believe that those who buy these books 
and consult their pages would profit by such summaries and 
fail to profit by a general knowledge of important matters of 
critical scholarship, imparted clearly with as little apparatus 
as possible. Such chapters as perform this function are de- 
cidedly the better for it, and lose nothing in interest. The 
general editors had the reading public in mind in advising 
contributors with regard to foot-notes and bibliographies, put- 
ting much stress on the latter and restricting the former. In 
most instances, the collaborators have interpreted bibliogra- 
phy to include critical bibliography, and have appended more 
or less complete lists of this kind. But such lists are unin- 
telligible and valueless for the tyro, and inconvenient for 
the genuine student, without a moderate use of foot-notes to 
the text. The preference must be given again to such chapters 
as compromise with technical scholarship; as represented in 
the combination of notes and bibliography for Prof. Routh's 
two chapters, those on Prose Fiction and Language by Prof. 
Atkins (Vol. Ill, chs. xvi and xx) and the chapter on Dray- 
ton by Mr. Child. 

In the preliminary statement of the editors it was parti- 
cularly urged upon contributors that ' ' note was to be taken of 
the influence of foreign literatures upon English" (Preface 
Vol. 1, p. iii). In contrast with the present activity in com- 
parative studies, however, especially in the period of the 
Renaissance, the general tone of Volumes III and IV is 
strongly conservative, the element of foreign influence being 
usually minimized in treatment and at times ignored. The 
significance of this feature deserves somewhat detailed notice. 
In Volume III, chapters viii, The New English Poetry, and 
xii, The Elizabethan Sonnet, are perhaps most liberal in 
recognition of foreign models. Mr. Lee, at least, is disposed 
to go considerably farther in such recognition today than 
when his chapter was written, Mr. Kastner's articles in the 
Modern Language Review (Vols. II, III and IV) having 
since strengthened the case for France, and his own volume 
on French-English relations having set him to proselyting. 
Both chapters suffer from the tendency, carried to its last 
degree in Mr. Lee's recent book, to limit the possibility of 
Italian influence upon Elizabethan lyric to the sonnets of 
Petrarch. Not that the existence and extent of Italian Pe- 
trarchizing is not admitted. Indeed the probability that Eng- 
lish poetry has been affected by this later product is noted at 
times, as in Mr. Child's recognition of Serafino's strambotti 
as the model of Wyatt's epigrams (p. 195). But in the gen- 



The Cambridge History of English Literature 133 

eral reckoning of foreign influences, in the matter of verse- 
form, or conventional theme, or "Anacreontic note," this 
mass of suggestive material, freely available then in antholo- 
gies, receives little consideration. 5 

Two chapters, Mr. Courthope's on Spenser (III, xi) and 
the discussion of Language (III, xx), touch upon the relation 
of Pleiade activity to the Elizabethan attempts at enrichment 
of the vernacular. Mr. Courthope says : 

' ' Spenser may very well have meant to emulate the neolo- 
gizing tendency of the almost contemporary Pleiade; in which 
case, it is interesting to observe the opposite principle on 
which he proceeded; for, while the French reformers aimed 
mainly at coining new words from Latin and Greek, the 
English poet sought, in the first place, to revive old standard 
words which had fallen out of colloquial use" (p. 257). 

Prof. Atkins compares conditions thus : 

"In France, the reformers aimed at devising rules; but 
in England, the method adopted was the characteristic one of 
compromise" (p. 506). This purely English compromise, he 
goes on to explain, was between the desire of developing all 
the natural resources of the vernacular, old and new, and 
that of enlarging its possibilities by importations from other 
tongues. Both authors stress too much the united purpose 
of the Pleiade movement. There was about as much of com- 
promise in one country as in the other, and in both the for- 
eign influences promptly crowded back the patriotic archai- 
zing. Bonsard from the first was fond of the old native 
words and the treatises of Henri Estienne argued vigor- 
ously for the national speech. 

Mr. Saintsbury, in his chapter on Criticism, gives frank 
expression of the conservative point of view. He says of 
Sidney : 

"Of late, considerable interest has been taken in the 
question whether he got his principles from specific or gen- 
eral sources; and there has been a tendency to regard him 
as specially echoing not merely Scaliger but the Italian critic 
Minturno. There are, no doubt, coincidences with these two, 
and, especially, with Minturno; but it is the opinion of the 
present writer that Sidney was rather familiar with the gen- 
eral drift of Italian criticism than following any special 
authority." (Vol. Ill, pp. 342-343). 

Prof. Atkins, in discussing Prose Fiction (Vol. Ill, ch. 

It may be noted that Mr. Child attributes without question Wyatt's 
much-discussed sonnet, "Lyke unto these unmesurable mountaines," to 
Melin de St. Gelays (p. 193), although as early as 1904 Mr. Tilley had 
insisted that it is a direct translation from Sannazaro (Literature of 
the French Renaissance, I, p. 148 note). 



134 Upham 

xvi), loses no opportunity to interpret his data in a patriotic, 
if somewhat insular fashion; certain of his generalizations 
being left so equivocal as to suggest more than he would care 
to substantiate. Prose fiction "is one of the gifts of the 
Elizabethans to our literature" (p. 387) ; but they took the 
impulse from abroad and needed a later impulse of the same 
sort to make their gift increasingly effective. "The romance 
is an obvious continuation of a literary type familiar to 
medieval England" (p. 389) ; but the "modifications" of 
Sannazaro and Montemayor appealed more directly to the 
Elizabethans. Painter "supplies versions of a hundred and 
one tales, some forty of which are taken from Boccaccio and 
Bandello" (p. 390) ; but the others are as demonstrably 
translations (Cf. Lee, French Renaissance in England, p. 
136). Nashe protested that his style called "no man father in 
England" (p. 416) ; but he also said: "Of all styles I most 
affect and strive to imitate Aretines" (Lenten Stuff e, ed. 
McKerrow, III, p. 152), and Harvey twice taunts him with 
discipleship to "Aretine and Rabelays" (Works, ed. Grosart, 
I, pp. 218, 272). In certain important matters, however, 
such as the discussions of Euphuism and of the realistic 
novel, the tone of this chapter is entirely in line with contem- 
porary criticism. 

Volume IV offers less reason for objection in its com- 
parative outlook, partly because of the different nature of 
its material. The opening chapter, on Translators, bears 
most significantly upon foreign relations, though one might 
wish for further interpretation of the data regarding such 
questions as the effect of French handling on the material 
transmitted, and the influence of various translations on Eng- 
lish thought and expression. In chapter ix one is likely to 
recall that The Cypress Grove, which is justly pronounced the 
work in which "Drummond reaches his highest sustained 
level" (p. 177), borrows much of its material from the French, 
directly from Montaigne or by way of Charron's La Sagesse. 
Prof. Grierson, in his study of John Donne (ch. xi), might 
have found it profitable to consider his peculiarities in connec- 
tion with the immense popularity of Sylvester and his master 
Du Bartas in the England of that day. Finally, the casual 
references to Montaigne in Prof. Routh's treatment of the 
early English essay (pp. 392, 393, 396) fall far short of de- 
fining the relations of this significant author to the English 
type to which he gave name. 

In general there is much that may be said in sincere ap- 
preciation of these two volumes. A majority of the chapters 
in them are made up of the carefully-weighed and logically- 
grouped utterances of authoritative scholars. These men 



Elkanah Settle, His Life and Works 135 

have labored with particular pains and with notable success 
to adapt material and tone to the requirements of the higher 
type of general reader, actually desirous of trustworthy in- 
formation. They have added to an accumulation of unusually 
pertinent matter a style that is pure, lucid, and commanding 
of sustained attention. Apart from irregularities of the sort 
noted, these earlier volumes of the general work may be pro- 
nounced a worthy contribution to the difficult problem of 
popularizing technical scholarship in literature. It is another 
matter to find them what the advertisements describe them as 
being: parts of "the one indispensable history of English 
literature for the scholar's library, and the best work of the 
kind for the reference library of the student; . . . [rep- 
resenting] the last results of scholarship and research." 
Bryn Mawr College. A. H. UPHAM. 



ELKANAH SETTLE, HIS LIFE AND WORKS, by F. C. 
Brown. The University of Chicago Press, Chicago, Illinois. 

In one hundred and seventy pages devoted to the life and 
works of Elkanah Settle, Mr. F. C. Brown has given us what 
seems to be a well advised example of the doctoral diserta- 
tion. This he promises to supplement at a later time with an 
edition of Settle's most important play, The Empress of 
Morocco. 

The drama of the Restoration period, while immeasurably 
inferior in interest to that of the Elizabethan era, has this 
important advantage for the young scholar seeking to win 
his spurs, that it has been far less subjected to modern meth- 
ods of study. Thus, the task of rehabilitating Settle has fur- 
nished his historian with a wide bibliographical experience, 
with a limited number of characteristic biographical prob- 
lems, with an interesting array of historical contacts, and with 
an ample supply of relatively unknown literary matter for 
the exercise of the critical faculty and for some investigation 
of sources and relations. The subject being judiciously 
chosen and on the whole competently treated treated, we may 
add, with commendable condensation the result is a useful 
supplement to our apparatus for the history of the drama. 

The work is divided into two sections, arranged in the 
most systematic manner, though in a manner which entails 
some repetition and considerable cross-reference. "Section 
I. A., Biography," presents the narrative of Settle's life. 
"B., Quarrels and Controversies" deals in a more detailed 
manner with the main incidents of his career as a controver- 



136 Pyre 

sialist. "Section II., An Account of Settle's Works," opens 
with a ' ' List of the Plays ' ' which presents in tabular form all 
of Settle's plays with statements of when and where each 
was first acted, when licensed, the date of the first, and of suc- 
ceeding editions. There follows a "Discussion of the Plays" 
in which each of twenty plays is set forth, seriatim, with a 
brief criticism of each. The remainder of the volume, present- 
ing lists of Settle's "Poems on Occasions," "City Pageants," 
"Controversial Works," etc., is almost exclusively biblio- 
graphical and represents a very considerable outlay of labor, 
on the part of the compiler and his correspondents, in the 
examination of records and of public and private libraries. 
The volume is equipped with an extensive general biblio- 
graphy and an index and is illustrated by some eight photo- 
graphic reproductions of title-pages, autographs, and original 
"sculptures." 

So far as Settle himself is concerned, it may indeed be 
questioned whether he would not have fared as well to have 
rested permanently within the vague penumbra of ridicule 
which Dryden and Pope shed round him and which posterity, 
in the absence of editions of his works and in recognition 
of his misfortunes, has qualified with a mild infusion of pity. 
It has been rather the fashion for modern criticism, which is 
inclined to be soft-hearted toward mediocrity, to deprecate 
the malice of Dryden and Pope, assuming that their attacks 
upon the poetasters of their day were entirely due to per- 
sonal jealousy. Something of this attitude of mind has crept 
into Mr. Brown's view of the case of Settle. The fact is, that 
the existence of such huge parasites as Settle is a reproach 
to literature in all ages. The ease with which these "con- 
scienceless rogues" impose upon an ill-instructed public 
arouses in spirits like those of Ben Jonson, Dryden and Pope, 
a disdainful anger which, though not without its element of 
wounded vanity, is after all based upon a patriotic instinct 
to defend the realm of wit against the invasion of thick- 
skinned pretenders. Jonson was unfair to Dekker, Dryden 
to Shad well, and Pope to many ; but there is little or nothing 
in Mr. Brown's study to show that Settle got more than his 
just deserts from Dryden and Pope, or to disturb the reign- 
ing conviction that the exquisite fruit of his having lived and 
written was the latter 's couplet : 

Now Night descending the proud scene was o 'er 
But lived in Settle's numbers one day more. 

Settle's shortcomings as a writer and as a man seem to 
excite no hostility in his critic. This is, no doubt, as it should 
be; but the reader will be less charitable. He will discover 
that Settle originated nothing and had no convictions; that 



Elkanah Settle, His Life and Works 137 

not a tolerable line is quoted from his works, though some 
are said to exist ; that, as a dramatist, he ' ' merely studied the 
prevailing style assiduously to become proficient in it, that 
he might produce that which would bring him success ; ' ' that 
his "businesslike turn of mind" made him "one of the earliest 
if not the first" to advance his interest by means of the 
"dramatic puff;" that the most interesting thing about his 
plays was their stage-setting and, about his poems, their 
bindings; that with him the art of the dramatist issued from 
the same talent which enabled him to turn his hand to the 
devising of Pope-burnings, City Pageants and Bartholomew 
Fair drolls, and that he made the most brazenly venal use of 
poetical eulogy that our literary history records; that he 
transferred his political services from party to party without 
scruple or blush ; that he freely plagiarized both from others 
and from himself, so that, "in three of his wedding poems, 
two-thirds of the lines are common to all ; " the reader will a 
little grudge, in fine, Mr. Brown's too frequent use of the 
term "poet" to avoid the repetition of Settle's name. 

Settle, for his own sake, then, was hardly worth reviving ; 
but, since we must know a great many things that are not 
worth knowing for the sake of those that are, and since this 
is especially so in theatrical history, many will be grateful 
for Mr. Brown's conscientious and capable study of a con- 
siderable purveyor to the Restoraton stage. If one were to 
express any discontent, it must be that the writing should 
fall a little below the other excellences of the work, a dis- 
parity which one has frequently to regret in the present day 
dissertation. The following paragraph, quoted for its esti- 
mate of Settle's contribution to the drama, is a fair example 
of the author's phrasing: 

' ' In but one thing, the use of scenic display, can Settle be 
considered to have contributed anything material to the 
drama. The first dramatic productions after the Civil War 
were operas. The elements of music, dancing, and spectacle 
in the first plays influenced all succeeding dramatic produc- 
tions, no doubt, and were introduced, as in the case of Settle, 
into both tragic and comic themes. Settle was impressed with 
the idea of scenic display, and believed, from the beginning 
of his career, that theatrical effectiveness had much to do with 
the success of a dramatic production. By the skilful intro- 
duction of spectacle into his second play he became, for six 
or seven years, the undisputed favorite of the court and the 
rival of Dryden; on account of his ability as an inventor of 
elaborate display, he was chosen designer and manager of the 
Pope-burning pageants and processions in 1679 and 1680, 
was later appointed "city poet," and given an annual salary 



138 Belden 

for many years for devising drolls for Bartholomew and 
Southwark fairs. There is little doubt, as he asserted, that 
nothing had ever been presented on an English stage so ela- 
borate as The World in the Moon; and it is attested by 
Downes that The Fairy Queen 'was superior in ornaments' 
to King Arthur and The Prophetess and so expensive 'in set- 
ting it out' that the company made little by it although the 
piece was very popular. Moreover, I am persuaded that it 
was Settle's ability as a contriver of 'machinery' more than 
anything else that caused Betterton and Booth to continue 
their interest in the poet and to aid him in his last years, 
even when public condemnation of the aged playwright had 
become so general and fatal. It is not fanciful, therefore, to 
conclude that 'the best Contriver of Machinery in England,' 
who produced so many dramatic pieces with elaborate spec- 
tacle, should have contributed something in increasing the 
tendency to seek theatrical effectiveness in the drama, espe- 
cially when many of the poets' own plays were successful." 
University of Wisconsin. J. F. A. PYRE. 



DIE ROMANTISCHE BEWEGUNG IN DER AMERI- 
KANISCHEN LITERATUR: BROWN, POE, HAW- 
THORNE. BIN BEITRAG ZUR GESCHICHTE DER 
ROMANTIK. Von Dr. Walter Just. Berlin, Mayer & 
Miiller, 1910. 90pp. 

Dr. Just's avowed purpose is to show that there was a 
Romantic Movement in American literature. He proceeds by 
applying certain tests of the romantic quality (drawn chiefly 
from Ricarda Huch's Die Romantik) to Charles Brockden 
Brown, Poe, and Hawthorne. The plan involves analysis and 
comparison of the lives and work of the three writers chosen, 
which, tho brief, is on the whole intelligently done. Inci- 
dentally, the author discusses their indebtedness to writers of 
the Old World, gathering up the results of previous studies 
in this field and adding some suggestions of his own. 

It is an easy matter, of course, to show that Brown, Poe, 
and Hawthorne display romantic traits both in their lives 
and in their writings. They were more or less solitary in 
their tastes, more or less given to introspection and self- 
analysis, more or less ill-adjusted to the world in which they 
lived. Dr. Just's contention, however, that their romantic 
temperament is shown in their unwillingness to enter or 
remain in any of the recognized professions seems to resolve 
itself, in each case, into the fact that they desired to lead 



Die Romantische Bewegung in der Literatur 139 

the life of letters, and that the life of letters was not 
then in this country a profession that afforded a certain live- 
lihood. Others besides these three showed a like desire and 
found like difficulties; Emerson, for instance, who had been 
but three years in the pastorate of the South Church when he 
abandoned the clerical profession for the life of the solitary 
thinker, only to give up this in turn for the irregular and un- 
satisfying, but money-getting, occupation of the public lec- 
turer. The literary temperament, which is both older and 
younger than the Romantic Movement, seems to be always re- 
sentful of bread-and-butter claims ; and a man determined to 
live for letters in America in the early part of the last century 
was assured of an uneasy existence. In this connection, be 
it remarked in passing, Dr. Just falls into the error, natural 
enough in one not thoroly conversant with our social history, 
of ascribing the hard-headed, materialistic temper of Ameri- 
can society to its Puritan antecedents. As a matter of fact, 
at the time of which he treats New England was the home 
of idealism and spirituality in this country; the Southern 
and Middle States, just because of the lack of Puritan ideal- 
ism in their founding, were far less propitious to the literary 
life, as the general history of our letters sufficiently shows. 

The second chapter, on the love of the wonderful and mys- 
terious as a mark of romanticism, discriminates successfully 
between the three writers in their use of this element ; gathers 
up the work of previous students as to the indebtedness of 
Poe to E. T. A. Hoffman and Coleridge, of Hawthorne to 
Bunyan and Spenser, and of Brown to William Godwin ; and 
gives some pretty good reasons for holding that Brown in 
Wieland (published in 1798) derived suggestions from Schil- 
ler's Der Geister seller, of which an English translation was 
reprinted in New York in 1796. 

The third chapter, under the caption Die Nachtseite der 
Natur, takes up the romantic interest in pseudo-science and 
mental and moral pathology. Brown here belongs to the 
earlier stage of romanticism, that of Horace Walpole and 
Mrs. Radcliffe, in which the mysterious, after having afforded 
its appropriate shudder, is explained away quite rationalisti- 
cally at the end. In Poe's and Hawthorne's time a more ef- 
fective treatment of this material had been devised. The dif- 
ference between Poe's use of it analytical, precise, with the 
air of a laboratory note-book and Hawthorne's more ima- 
ginative, ethereal, and human treatment is well brought out. 

The fourth of the tests applied, interest in the past and in 
one's own people, fits but imperfectly two of the three 
authors considered. Brown's stories are of contemporary 
life ; and tho in Edgar Huntly he seems to have been the first 



140 Belden 

to realize the possibilities of the American Indian in fiction, 
his stories generally fail to smack of the soil. Poe sought his 
romantic associations not in the past of his own country, but in 
the castles and palaces of the Old "World, or, more characteris- 
tically, in a dream landscape ' ' out of space, out of time, ' ' com- 
pounded of the impressions of his romantic reading as he 
himself has said, he sought his effects "by novel combinations 
of those combinations which our predecessors, toiling in chase 
of the same phantom, have already set in order." The reason 
for this lack of native romantic background is the same in 
both Brown and Poe. Neither was the product of a strongly 
marked and homogeneous social tradition. Hawthorne alone 
fully meets this test of romanticism. Child of a strong and 
clearly defined society of two hundred years' standing, his 
works, like his life, are saturated with the consciousness of 
tradition. Dr. Just finds, on what seem pretty slight grounds, 
that Hawthorne was influenced in his narrative technique 
by Scott's novels; which of course is likely, and is rendered 
more likely by the very close resemblance, not mentioned by 
Dr. Just, between Hawthorne's first essay in fiction, the sup- 
pressed novel Fanshawe, and the work of Scott. 

The last chapter deals very briefly with the romantic feel- 
ing for nature in the three authors considered. This amounts 
in Brown's case to hardly more than touches such as no 
writer fed upon Mrs. Radcliffe and her kind could well avoid. 
Poe had little sense of nature as such; his landscapes are 
either fantastic arabesques or mere calculated, decorative set- 
tings for his story. Here again Hawthorne alone of the three 
fully meets the requirements of romanticism. Poe, with all 
his details and air of precision, seems never really to have 
seen anything but the visions of his own brain; Hawthorne, 
with his eye upon the object in true romantic fashion, en- 
deavored, sometimes with wonderful success, to transfuse it 
with the light of feeling and imagination'. But he did not 
always succeed so well as he did in The Scarlet Letter and in 
Ethan Brand in making nature wear the colors of his theme. 

On the whole, it does not appear that Dr. Just has 
added much to our understanding of romanticism in America. 
A movement, in the German or even in the English sense, 
there was not; there was no co-operation, no consciousness of 
a mission such as animated Wordsworth or Friedrich Schlegel, 
or the Transcendentalist leaders in this country. Romantic 
qualities of various sorts there were in these three writers 
and in other American writers of the time, all of whom were 
under the influence of romantic ideals and methods in the 
literature of the Old World. The monograph may, however, 
be of value in drawing the attention of Dr. Just 's compatriots 



Roeder's tiber die Erziehung der Vornehmen Jugend 141 

to the worth of our two chief romanticists, and especially of 
Hawthorne, whose quality was so acutely perceived and so 
admirably set forth by Professor Schonbach twenty odd years 
ago. The work would have profited by a more careful study 
of previous criticism, especially in regard to Poe. It is sur- 
prising to find the myth of Poe's eighteen months' journey 
in Europe (invented by himself and sent in the notes he fur- 
nished Lowell when the latter was to write his sketch of Poe 
for Graham's) still accepted as fact, in spite of Professor 
Woodberry 's demonstration of its baselessness, with which Dr. 
Just seems to be acquainted. It is less surprising, perhaps, 
but certainly not less unfortunate, that he turns for critical 
comment upon Poe to the slight and decadent sketch of H. H. 
Ewers and seems not to be aware of the more significant stu- 
dies of Hennequin and Robertson. 

University of Missouri. H. M. BELDEN. 



tfBER DIE ERZIEHUNG DER VORNEHMEN ANGEL- 
SACHSISCHEN JUGEND IN FREMDEN HAUSERN. 

Von Fritz Roeder. Halle, 1910. Max Niemeyer. 

This is a lecture delivered before the Anglistic section of 
the assembly of German philologists which met at Graz in the 
year 1910. The problem discussed is that of "fosterage," the 
practice of placing children in the homes of friends or vassals 
to be brought up and educated. That fosterage was common 
in Ireland and extensively practiced in Scandinavia in the 
middle ages is well known; but its occurrence among the 
Anglo-Saxons has not been the subject of earlier investiga- 
tion. The following are the chief conclusions presented in the 
lecture : 

The custom was frequently practiced among the Anglo- 
Saxons; it may have been as general as among the Northern 
peoples. 

Kings and chiefs made common use of this mode of educa- 
tion; "in der westsachsischen Dynastie entsprach es offenbar 
ziemlich fester Tradition." 

The foster parents were near kinsfolk or vassals. 

It is probable that fostering was undertaken as an act of 
friendship or through a desire to please the child's parents; 
but it might also be done for stipulated pay. 

Evidence of various sorts is adduced to support these 
conclusions : the use of the term foster in its various forms, es- 
pecially in compounds; a few allusions to such a custom in 
the literary sources ; certain legal provisions that suggest fos- 



142 Larson 

terage ; and a series of historical instances. The author, how- 
ever, does not place much dependence on terminology, as the 
term foster seems to have possessed a very wide significance. 
Nor is the evidence drawn from literature very conclusive. 
His chief reliance is, therefore, on the legal provisions and the 
instances recorded in the history of the West Saxon dynasty. 

Fosterage is alluded to only twice in the legal documents. 
In Alfred's legislation we find a heading that deals with the 
responsibility of a foster-father (?) in case the child en- 
trusted to his care should die. The case is clearer in a docu- 
ment "Concerning the Betrothal of a Woman" where we 
find a provision for the payment of the foster-price (foster- 
lean) when the bride is a foster-child. 

The cumulative force of the evidence produced seems to be 
such as to leave no doubt as to the existence of the institution 
in Old English society; but the author has scarcely proved 
his assertion that the custom was generally followed. To 
show this he depends much on the fact that four West Saxon 
princes were educated in the homes of subjects. These were 
the kings Edward the Elder, Athelstan, and Edgar and the 
etheling Athelstan, the son of Ethelred II. 

William of Malmesbury tells us that once when on a jour- 
ney Edward stopped to pay his respects to his nutricem, who 
is also spoken of as a villica, presumably the wife of a villicus 
or town-reeve. It is possible that this woman may have fos- 
tered the prince, but the evidence is not of the strongest. A 
town-reeve was scarcely of sufficient social importance to be 
entrusted with a royal child ; nutrix does not necessarily mean 
foster-mother, the woman may have been a servant of some 
sort, nurse, perhaps, in the royal palace; from the fact that 
she was married when Edward was a man, we are not to 
infer that she was a reeve's wife when he was still a child. 

The case of Athelstan was very special: he was illegiti- 
mate, the son of a shepherd's daughter. It was therefore 
natural that he should be fostered by his grandfather Alfred 
and after his death by other near kinsfolk, his aunt EtheWed 
and her husband, the Mercian ealdorman. In the same way 
Edgar, who had lost his mother at a tender age, found a home 
with the wife of the ealdorman of East Anglia, Athelstan the 
"Half-king." 

Ethelred 's son Athelstan was brought up in the house of 
his grandmother on his father's side. This fact strengthens 
the suspicion that several of Ethelred 's children were ille- 
gitimate, and Athelstan may have been one of them. It would 
seem, then, that in three of the four instances the fosterage 
was inevitable from the circumstances and not voluntary, as 
it would have been in the case of true fosterage. 



Notes 143 

As practically all the evidence that the lecturer has dis- 
covered belongs to the period of Danish influence in England, 
it would seem worth while to consider the possibility of a 
Scandinavian origin of the institution among the Anglo- 
Saxons. The terminology surely has the appearance of having 
been influenced by Norse analogies : fostorlean, fostorland, and 
fostorfceder look strikingly like the Old Norse equivalents 
fostrlaun, fostrland and fostrfafiir. But this is a matter that 
the author has not investigated. 

University of Illinois. LAURENCE M. LARSON. 



NOTES. 
THE LATIN- HISTORIA ASSENECH. 

Dr. H. N. MacCracken has had the good fortune to discover in a 
manuscript in the Earl of Ellesmere's library a Middle-English verse 
translation of what he calls "a lost Latin version" of the Historia Asse- 
nech, in his edition of the poem. 1 He has printed under the English 
text the Latin form of the story found in the Speculum kistoriale, of 
Vincent de Beauvais, who cites the comments on the story of the His- 
toria scholastica of Pierre le Mangeur, one of his principal authorities.* 
The English translator states (26-30) that he has translated "Asneth 
storie .... fro latyn into englysh," and in doing this ; 

Utterali the latyn in englysh to transpose, 

Hit is nuyus, but J>e sentence I schal sue in trace"; 
and a comparison of his version with that of Vincent shows details for which 
the latter could not have been the source. MacCracken has pointed 
out that there is authority for some of these details in the Greek ori- 
ginal and its oriental versions, but he has not made a very happy sug- 
gestion in regard to the immediate source of the English translation: 

"Of this Historia Assenech, as Vincent calls his authority, I know 
no copy in existence; and leave the question to those more familiar 
than myself with the history of Hebrew literature." 1 

One does not need to be versed in Hebrew literature to be able 
to cast some light on the question; only a little knowledge of medieval 
Latin literature and its sources is necessary. Manuscripts of the His- 
toria Assenech are noted in the catalogues of English monastic libra- 
ries, 4 numerous manuscripts are found today in English libraries, 5 and 

1 Journ. of Eng. and Germ. Phil. X, 224. ff . 

2 P. Paris, Hist. lift, de la France, XXVIII, 440-1. 
Op. cit. 225. 

* E. g. M. R. James, The Ancient Libraries of Canterbury and 
Dover, 62, 117, 118; cf. 511; Catalogues of the Library of Durham 
Cathedral (Surtees Soc.) 5 "Putiphar." 

5 E. g. Schenkl, Sitzungsber. d. Wien. Ak. Phil. Hist. Klasse, 124, 

I, 11; 136, V, 6, 155, XII, 43, 73; Reports of the Hist. M88. Comm. 

II, 105. 



144 Hamilton 

the text itself was published and commented on almost two centuries 
ago by Fabricius. 6 A much abridged version of the form of the story 
as it appears in the Speculum is found in the fifteenth century Eng- 
lish translation of the Alphabetum narrationum." 1 If the Latin original 
of this collection is to be attributed to a certain Arnold, who made 
his compilation in the early years of the fourteenth century, 8 it is 
chronologically possible that he made use of the work of Vincent, 
written beween 1244 and 1254.* But as the great encyclopedist is no\ 
cited in the course of a work, which makes a rule of naming its sources, 
it is more probable that the compiler made use of the same abridgement 
as Vincent, who in this case, was not responsible for the omission of 
details in the version of the Speculum. An examination of the differ- 
ent manuscripts would probably show their distribution into two classes, 
of which one would contain the full text represented by the English 
verse translation, and the other the abridged text used in the two con- 
tinental Latin compilations. 

GEORGE L. HAMILTON. 
Cornell University. 



THE CRITICAL EDITION op CHARLES SEALBFIELD'S WORKS. 

EDITOR JOURNAL OP ENGLISH AND GERMANIC PHILOLOGY, 
SIR: 

Will you grant me the privilege of explaining through your valued 
journal the present situation with regard to the promised historical 
and critical edition of the works of Charles Sealsfield, a situation 
which for a considerable time now has been for me the cause of 
much embarrassment and anxiety. 

In the spring of 1907, the Oesellschaft zur Forderung deutscher 
Wissenschaft, Kunst und Literatur in Bohmen, upon the initiative of 
Professor Jacob Minor of Vienna, resolved to publish, in seventeen vol- 
umes of the Bibliothek deutscher Schriftateller aus Bohmen, a standard 
edition of the complete works of the great German-American novelist. 
Professor August Sauer, on behalf of the Society, entrusted me with 
the editorship-in-chief of that portion of the Bibliothek, and I was 
authorized to select among American scholars the requisite number of 
collaborators. 

As is well known to those interested in the subject, no small amount 
of work has already been performed in the service of the enterprise. 

' Codex pseudepigraphus veteris Testamenti, Hamburg! 1722, I. 
775-784; II, 85. 

'An Alphabet of Tales, ed. M. Af. Banks, 61-4. 

* J. A. Herbert, Library, N. S. VI, 99-101 ; Catalogue of Romances, 
III, 423-430; P. Toldo, Herrigs Archiv, CXVII, 68-9. 

Hist. litt. de la France, XVIII, 456. 



Notes 145 

Yet while numerous articles have been published in the periodicals, no 
part of the edition itself, to the very great disappointment of its pro- 
moters, has yet made its appearance. To a certain extent the slowness 
of our initial procedure will be readily understood and extenuated by 
persons in any degree familiar with the peculiar difficulties of my task. 
Hardly any great writer of the nineteenth century holds such bewil- 
dering riddles for the judgment of an editor as this reckless polyglot 
whose motley diction was an almost indissoluble mixture between pre- 
meditated imitation and his own linguistic confusion. A supervenient 
difficulty was encountered in the glaring textual discrepancies between 
the extant editions, doubly serious in the absence of manuscripts. 

At last, in 1909, I was able to announce to Professor Sauer my 
readiness to send a volume of the Lebensbilder to the press. It had 
seemed best to check the progress on other volumes until that first in- 
stallment had appeared, so that it might serve as a pattern for the 
make-up of the set and also furnish a textual canon and a key in ques- 
tions of "office style" and many other cases of editorial dilemma. Then 
a quite unexpected hindrance to our plans arose out of the wretched 
political situation in the Austrian monarchy; or, to be precise, out of 
the crisis that had broken out in the Bohemian parliament. The eter- 
nal struggle between the German and the Czech elements culminated 
about that time in a complete paralysis of the activity of the Landtag 
when the German factions retorted upon the tyranny of the Slavic 
majority by the desperate measure of "Secession," i. e. concerted 
absenteeism. The Diet being thus without the possibility of a quorum, 
an extra-parliamentary government had to be instituted, under a 
constitutional provision. 

The unfortunate connection between these great affairs of state 
and my humble literary venture requires an explanation. It consists 
simply in this: The Geselltchaft zur Forderung etc., like a number of 
other similar scientific societies, is the recipient of a subsidy from the 
public exchequer. The grant in its case had for a long series of years 
amounted to 42,000 crowns (about $8,000) per annum. During the 
deadlock of the Landtag, under a temporary government by commis- 
sion, the subsidies, for a variety of economic and political reasons, were 
discontinued. Through the withdrawal of its public stipend the So- 
ciety fell at once into the utmost stringency, and some of its most im- 
portant enterprises had to be suspended. The stagnation of our enter- 
prise was at first regarded by Professor Sauer as being probably of but 
short duration. He wrote to me: (translated) "Our nearest concern is 
to get over this year (1910), since the crisis has overtaken us unex- 
pectedly I cannot put aside, in favor of new work, those volumes 

of the Bibliothek already in course of printing. But so soon as these 
are disposed of, the Sealsfield edition will have precedence over every- 
thing else, and I shall not bring in anything that might interfere with 
its regular appearance. So I think that if you will kindly consent to 



146 Heller 

the unavoidable delay of the beginning, you need have no anxiety about 
the undertaking as a whole." 

The current year, however, has witnessed no decided change for 
the better in Bohemian self-misgovernment; nor has there been any 
perceptible abatement of the financial distress by which all public and 
semi-public institutions and enterprises are crippled. In order to save 
its several activities from inanition, the Oesellschaft zur Forderung 
etc. has lately determined to swerve to what has always appeared as a 
characteristically American policy. Some of the work, notably the 
publication of the periodical Deutsche Arbeit and the propaganda for 
German art industry, is being carried on with private means. As con- 
cerns the Sealsfield edition, the suggestion is now advanced by Professor 
Sauer that the expenses involved in its publication might in part be 
raised in this country as one of whose foremost writers Charles Seals- 
field is more and more being acknowledged. In a recent letter Pro- 
fessor Sauer concludes his argument as follows: (translated) "Even if 
the amount of the subsidy might possibly not be large, yet it would 
facilitate our enterprise, moreover we should be under a certain moral 
compulsion to put off, for the present, any other, not separately sub- 
sidized, piece of work Another way would be to find some Amer- 
ican publisher who would be willing to join with us in the venture and 
to assume a share of the expense." 

Despite the unforeseen and extremely serious obstacles by which 
our progress is for the time effectually blocked, Professor Sauer and 
myself are far from pessimistic about the fruition of the work in the 
near future. Even in the event of an appeal for financial succour 
proving futile we trust the edition will finally be brought out. Nor 
am I for my part ready to invoke American help without first ascer- 
taining in some general way the presumable attitude of the profession. 
I need not say that any sign of moral support will be highly appre- 
ciated; but I shall be likewise grateful for any frank statement of 
reasons against the inauguration of a campaign for our cause. I also 
trust that the foregoing candid revelation of our troubles will excul- 
pate me from a possible charge of procrastination, particularly in the 
eyes of those scholars who have generously promised their collaboration. 
Finally I must say that a relinquishment of the project, should it come 
to that pass, would entail a loss to the prestige of German-American, 
nay American letters (I am referring to the position of Charles Seals- 
field as our most conspicuous international encomiast as well as our 
greatest novelist) a loss of infinitely greater consequence than would^. 
be my own personal loss and mortification over a fruitless expenditure 
of years of energy. Faithfully yours, 

Washington University, Saint Louis. OTTO HELLER. 

December, 1911. 



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FRIEDRICH SPE AND THE THEODICBE OF LEIBNIZ 

I. INTRODUCTORY 

The purpose of this study is to show the relation between 
the Jesuit priest Friedrich Spe and the great philosopher 
Gottfried Wilhelm von Leibniz. This relation can best be 
seen by a study of two works the Guldenes Tugendbuch of 
Spe and the Theodicee of Leibniz. Nor will this relation 
prove to be merely incidental a reference here and there in 
Leibniz's letters and works to Spe and the latter 's achieve- 
ments. It was Leibniz who seemed to take such a delight in 
calling the attention of the world at large to the fact that 
Spe was the author of the anonymously published Cautio 
Criminal-is, the attack upon witch persecution which marked 
the beginning of the end of that folly in Europe ; it was 
Leibniz who emphasized frequently and consistently in his 
works and letters the importance of the Guldenes Tugend- 
buch; it was due to Leibniz more than to anyone else that 
Spe's name has come down to us as that of a man of some 
interest and importance. It may seem bold to state that 
Leibniz found in the work of the comparatively unknown 
Spe an inspiration for some of his own work, yet this fact 
can, I think, be established without much difficulty. 

It will be my purpose to show that Leibniz's Theodicee , 
the work in which he developed those principles which helped 
to make up that spirit of optimism which prevailed in the 
eighteenth century, owes not a little to the Guldenes Tugend- 
buch of Friedrich Spe. 

My method, briefly outlined, is as follows: To point out 
the opportunities which Leibniz had for becoming acquainted 
with the work of Spe ; to cite letters of Leibniz and other ex- 
tracts which prove that Leibniz had intense admiration for 
Spe and his works, particularly the Guldenes Tugendbuch; 
to show that the Tugendbuch, which seems hitherto to have 
been considered as an entirely original work, is based largely 
on the philosophical and theological system of Thomas 
Aquinas, whose fundamental principles appear also in the 
system of Leibniz; to point out that Aquinas's direct influ- 



150 Lieder 

ence upon Leibniz was slight, at all events no more pronounced 
than the influence of scores of other philosophers ; to indicate 
that those doctrines of Thomas Aquinas which are present in 
Leibniz may have been borrowed not directly from Thomas 
Aquinas but through the medium and with the modification 
of Spe's Guldenes Tugendbuch; and, finally, by reviewing 
the importance of Leibniz and his Theodicee in the history 
of German philosophy and literature, to call attention to the 
importance of Spe's book. 

Rarely, as will be seen, has a man been so thoroughly en- 
thusiastic about a work as was Leibniz about Spe's Tugend- 
buch. The thought of calling it to the attention of friends 
seems to have been often uppermost in Leibniz's mind. So 
frequently does he reiterate its praises, so bent is he upon 
acknowledging his indebtedness to it, that one wonders 
whether any other book had so firm a hold upon his mind. 
We are certain, moreover, that Leibniz's admiration was sin- 
cere; we feel that Spe's precepts became living truths for him. 

Leibniz was born in Leipzig in 1646, eleven years after the 
death of Spe (1591-1635), and three years before the publi- 
cation of the latter 's Trutz Nachtigal and Guldenes Tugend- 
buch (1649). He was not, therefore, a contemporary of the 
Jesuit priest and poet; his admiration for Spe must have 
come not from contact with his charming and sympathetic 
personality, but solely from a study of his works and of his 
life as related by friends of both men. What Leibniz says 
about Spe's works must, consequently, be his honest opinion 
unbiased by ties of friendship. I dwell particularly upon this 
point because Leibniz is so profuse in his praise. Had he 
known Spe personally, one could not but draw the conclusion 
that Leibniz was interested most in Spe the man, and that his 
admiration for the man had been reflected in his admiration 
for the man 's works. 

In determining the influence exerted by Spe upon Leib- 
niz, we must pay particular attention to Leibniz's letters. 
Leibniz the scholar and philosopher was a great planner, a 
dreamer at times. His own studies had led him into philos- 
ophy, theology, mathematics, history, philology in fact into 
almost every branch of learning. Few of his works are sys- 
tematically written. In his letters and short essays he de- 



Freidrich Spe and the Theodicee of Leibniz 151 

veloped most of his important plans that of establishing at 
Berlin an academy of sciences, of inventing a universal lan- 
guage, of uniting the Protestant and Catholic churches, and 
many others. Even his Theodicee is a great collection l of 
opinions, citations, and arguments which he had advanced in 
many of his letters. Leibniz wrote thousands of letters, and 
in these we may find practically all the fundamental prin- 
ciples which he utilized in putting together his Theodicee. The 
importance of Leibniz's correspondence for one who is in- 
terested in tracing the influence of earlier writers upon Leib- 
niz can hardly be overestimated. 

A complete edition of Leibniz's letters has not yet been 
published. 2 The letters referring to Spe are scattered through 
a number of editions 3 not all of which are supplied with in- 
dexes. One of the letters has never before appeared in print. 
To facilitate the comparisons between Spe and Leibniz, I have, 
in this study, given a list of those letters and passages which 
refer to Spe. 

The question may arise why the relation between Spe and 
Leibniz has not long since been emphasized, inasmuch as 
Leibniz has been studied from so many points of view. At 
least three answers may be given. The first has already been 
pointed out: Leibniz's correspondence has not been readily 
accessible. 4 

1 He himself calls it "un tissu." See his letter to Hugony (Ger- 
hardt, IV, 11). 

' A complete edition of Leibniz's writings is being planned by the 
Prussian Academy in conjunction with the French Academy. 

* Among the editors are Placcius, Dutens, Feller, Erdmann, Rom- 
mel, Klopp, Gerhardt, Foucher de Careil, Bodemann. 

4 The earliest reference I have been able to find on the relation be- 
tween Spe and Leibniz is in Michael De la Roche, Memoirs of Litera- 
ture, 2nd ed., London, 1772, vol. IV, Art. LXIII, pp. 387, 388. A fuller 
commentary, upon which most of the later writers have based their 
knowledge, is given in E. D. Hauber, Bibliotheca Ada et Scriptora 
Magica, Lemgo, 1741, vol. II, p. 10; vol. Ill, pp. 15, 512. Cf. also Cie- 
mens Brentano's edition of Spe's Trutz Nachtigal, Berlin, 1817; Onno 
Klopp's edition of Leibniz's writings, vol. VIII, pp. XIV, XV; Alois 
Pichler, Die Theologie des Leibniz, Munich, 1869 & 1870, vol. I, p. 441; 
Edmund Pfleiderer, Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz alt Patriot, Staatsman 
und Bildungstrdger, Leipzig, 1870, p. 472 ff.; J. B. M. Diel, Friedrich von 
Spee, Freiburg i. B, 1872; Gustav Balke's edition of Trutz Nachtigal, 



152 Lieder 

In the second place, the Theodicee, important as it is, is 
not often read through by the student of philosophy. 1 It is 
long and straggling, covering more than four hundred large 
pages of French, with frequent digressions and many cita- 
tions. Spe is treated in two whole paragraphs, but his name 
is only one of hundreds that are mentioned in the book. Al- 
though Leibniz's sentence "Et maintenant, sans alleguer 
beaucoup d'autres Auteurs des plus considerables, je me con- 
teray de nommer le Pere Frederic Spee" is significant enough, 
its importance is appreciated only when it is reinforced by 
the many references in Leibniz's letters and other writings. 
These letters, however, are scattered through many collections ; 
their value is lost sight of in the mass of other letters. 

In the third place, the Ouldenes Tngendbuch does not seem 
to be generally known. It is purely a book of worship, and is 
of little interest to the student of literature except in so far 
as it influenced Leibniz. Spe is mentioned in histories of 
German literature because he wrote the Trutz Nachtigal, a 
collection of poems in which he expresses in verse many of the 
ideas presented in the Guldenes Tngendbuch. The Tugend- 
buck itself, however, is hardly known even by name. It is 
not contained, for instance, in any of the larger libraries of 
the United States. Hattler, in the edition of 1887, states that 

Leipzig, 1879, pp. XXXVII, LVI; W. G. Soldan, Oeschichte der Hexen- 
processe neu bearbeitet von H. Heppe, Stuttgart, 1880, vol. II, p. 187ff.; 
J. Diefenbach, Der Hexentcahn vor und nach der Glaubensspaltung in 
Deutschland, Mainz, 1886, p. Ill ; Georg Langin, Religion und Hexen- 
processe, Leipzig, 1888, p. 270; Jules Baissac, Les Qrands Jours de Sor- 
cellerie, Paris, 1890, p. 613; De Backer-Sommervogel, Bibliotheque de 
la Compagnie de Jesus, Paris & Brussels, 1896, vol. II, p. 1430; Fried- 
rich Spe von Johannes Diel, zweite umgearbeitete Ausgabe von Bernhard 
Duhr, Freiburg i. B., 1901; L. Couturat, La Loglque de Leibniz, Paris, 
1901, pp. 505, 568, 599; Anon., A Jesuit Philanthropist. Friedrich von 
Spee and the Wiirzburg Witches (Church Quarterly Review, vol. 57, pp. 
318-337); J. Vahlen, Ervnnerungen an Leibniz (Sitzungsberichte der 
Koniglich Preussischen Akad^mie der Wissenschaften, XXXII, 29 Juni 
1905, p. 653); M. Kaufmann, Latitudinarianism and Pietism (Cambridge 
Modern History, vol. V. Chapter XXIV, p. 758, New York, 1908). 

1 Cf. Guhrauer, Gottfried Wtthelm Freiherr von Leibniz, Breslau, 
1842, vol. II, p. 255. "Gegenwartig wird die Theodic6e vielleicht nirgends 
mehr in Ehren gehalten." 



Friedrich Spe and the Theodicee of Leib-niz 153 

when he looked for copies of the 1850 edition he was able, af- 
ter a trying search through Germany, to find only two. 

We are to bear in mind also, that even the accessible copies 
are to be looked upon primarily as books of worship, not as re- 
prints of a significant piece of literature. Regular editions 
of the Tugendbuch appeared in 1649, 1656, 1666, 1688, 1748, 
1749. In 1829 Clemens Brentano, at the request of Bishop 
Sailer, arranged for the publication of a new edition by secur- 
ing Fraulein von Hertling of Koblenz to put the prose into a 
form readily understood by nineteenth-century readers. This 
edition was reprinted in 1850, and is the basis for Hattler's 
edition of 1887. All three editions (1829, 1850, 1887) were 
brought out at the request of authorities in the Catholic 
Church, and were intended chiefly for pious communicants of 
Catholicism. The book has not found its way into many li- 
braries, nor has it appealed to many people as of any particu- 
lar importance. The Tugendbuch is not, therefore, widely 
known. 

These three causes the apparent lack of interest for the 
Theodicee (as compared for instance with the M onadologie ) , 
the inaccessibility of Leibniz's correspondence, and the scar- 
city of the Guldenes Tugendbuch explain why the relation 
between the Guldenes Tugendbuch and the Theodicee has not 
hitherto been emphasized. 

II. THE GULDENES TUGENDBUCH 

In speaking of the Guldenes Tugendbuch we should not 
forget that it is the basis of the Trutz Nachtigal the collec- 
tion of poems through which Spe has gained a place in the 
history of German literature. Many of the poems of Trutz 
Nachtigal appear also in the Tugendbuch. At present, a brief 
summary of the contents of the Tugendbuch is necessary be- 
fore its influence upon Leibniz can be determined. By far the 
most important part of the Tugendbuch and the one that ap- 
pealed most to Leibniz is its introduction. 

This introduction to Spe's Guldenes Tugendbuch presents 
briefly the themes which are developed in detail in the book 
proper the nature of the three divine virtues (gottliche Tu- 
genden), Faith, Hope, and Love. "Dan durch den Glauben 



154 Lieder 

glaube ich in Gott; durch die Hoffnung hoffe ich auf Gott; 
durch die Liebe lieb ich Gott." 

Faith clears the way for the other two virtues. It is, in a 
way, the foundation of the whole system. "Durch den Glau- 
ben halten wir festiglich dass ein Gott seye (Heb. 11), und 
dass er in seinen reden warhafftig seye; der weder betrogen 

werden noch auch betriegen kann Ohne den Glauben 

seind (Eph. 5) wis in finsternuss und wissen nicht sonders 
von Gott: aber da der Glaub im hertzen scheinet (1 Pet.) da 
wird es liecht und wir erkennen alsbald das Gott ein allmach- 
tiger ewiger unbegreifflicher allwissender Herr sey; ein 
Schopffer himmels und der erden." 

Hope is the second step. Having taken for granted 
through Faith that there is a God, one is able to hope for in- 
timate contact with him. "Durch die Hoffnung seind wir 
Gottes als unsers guts begierig; wir warten, verlangen, seuff- 
tzen nach ihm (Psal. 41), wir hoffen und begehren auch alles 
guts von ihm; wir trawen und bawen auff ihn, verlassen uns 
gantz und gar auff ihn; wir dencken offt ja steths tag und 
nacht auff ihn: wir seind immer unriihig (S. Aug. lib 1 conf. 
cap. 1), biss wir endlich ihn erlangen und in ihm ruhen mo- 
gen. Da schmecket uns sonst anders nichts also sehr auff 
erden als nur Gott allein vor alien dingen". God, in other 
words, is the fountain head of all bliss, and joy, and beauty. 
Our whole existence yearns for Him. 

Love is a further development of Hope and Faith a com- 
plete resignation to God. "Durch die Liebe wb'llen und \viin- 
schen wir ihme alles guts auss einer hertzlichen neigung zu 
ihm : Wir erfrewen uns dass er ein solcher Gott unnd Herr ist ; 
wir wolten gern dass doch alle creaturen ihne recht lieben und 
loben mochten : Und wan solches geschicht da frolocken wir, 
da springet uns das hertz vor frewden, da seind wir wol zu- 
frieden. Was wir ihme zu lieb thun mogen, und was wir ver- 
meinen das sein will sey und ihm gefalle, das thun wir gern 
von hertzen (Joan. 14). 

Of these three virtues, Love is naturally the most import- 
ant, because it includes the other two ; Hope contains Faith ; 
but Faith can exist without the other two. By deeds merely 
of Faith or of Hope one secures from God no forgiveness of 



Friedrich Spe and the Theodicee of Leibniz 155 

one's sins. Only deeds of Love, the third of the virtues, will 
immediately clear the sinner. 

Of great importance, therefore, is the distinction between 
the three. Faith, according to Spe, consists mainly in the rea- 
son; Hope and Love, on the other hand, in the will. "Erst- 
lich stehet der Glaub furnemblich in dem verstandt : die Hoff- 
nung aber unnd Liebe stehen eigentlich im willen." No one 
can have Hope and Love without first having Faith; con- 
versely, if one loses Faith, one immediately loses Hope and 
Love. The three are thus closely connected. 

A sinner who merely performs deeds of Faith and Hope is 
not cleared of his sins. So great, however, is the value of 
Love, that if a sinner were loaded down with all the sins 
of the world, he would be cleared as soon as Love was mani- 
fested, even if he had no chance to confess his sins to a priest. 

Spe now develops clearly the difference between Hope and 
Love, the two virtues which, according to the explanation 
given above, originate through the will, and seem to be one 
and the same. This difference is, according to Spe, of great- 
est importance, though it has not hitherto been carefully ex- 
plained. "Will es derowegen etwas griindlicher erorteren 
ob du unnd andere es eigentlich begreiffen mochtet: dan das 
ist was ich dir droben verheissen habe dich etwas sehr schones 
zu lehren, dass du sonsten in aiidcrn geistliclien biichern 

nicht bald aussgelegt finden wirst Es seind zweyerley 

Liebe : die eine wird genennet eine Lieb der begierlichkeit, 
die andere wird genent eine Lieb der Guttwilligkeit oder der 
freiindschafft." 

The Love of Desire (Begierlichkeit) is that attitude of 
mind in which one wishes something for oneself, or in which 
one is delighted with something which one possesses and which 
proves to be useful, pleasant, good, and beautiful. For ex- 
ample, with the Love of Desire, one loves a clear, cool drink 
when one is thirsty, because this drink is pleasant and re- 
freshing. Thus also one loves a good horse, a beautiful pic- 
ture, a comfortable house; thus also a lover loves his sweet- 
heart because she is friendly, charming, and beautiful. If, 
however, that which one desires is riot at hand, so that one 
cannot derive joy from it, and if one is obliged to expect in 



156 Lieder 

the future that which one desires, then this love or passion is 
called a Hope or a Desire. In this manner, therefore, Hope 
is nothing but a Love of Desire, when that which one desires 
has not yet been attained. In other words, the difference be- 
tween Hoffnung and Liebe der Begierlichkeit is this: if that 
which we love is not yet in our possession, we experience Hope ; 
if it is in our possession, we experience Love of Desire. 

The Love of Benevolence x (Gruttwilligkeit) or the Love of 
Friendship (Freiindschafft) is that love with which one loves 
him for whom one desires things, for whom one wishes every- 
thing good. If I wish or desire for myself or for someone else 
anything good, then I love that thing which I desire or wish 
with a Love of Desire. Myself, however, or that one for whom 
I wish these things, I love with the Love of Benevolence or 
Friendship. A lover loves his sweetheart with both kinds of 
love, since he loves her for her own sake (Liebe der Begier- 
lichkeit), and at the same time wishes for her everything that 
is good (Liebe der Gutwilligkeit oder Freundschaft.) We love 
our food, for instance, only with the Love of Desire, for we 
wish it only for the enjoyment it affords us. One loves a mon- 
arch, on the other hand, only with the Love of Benevolence; 
one wishes him all happiness and success but does not wish to 
possess him. 

Let us now come back to the three divine virtues. Faith 
makes one believe that there is a God, an all-powerful master 
who is endowed with all good qualities and who commands the 
respect and obedience of all. No sooner have we learned about 
God through Faith than we begin to love Him, first with the 
Love of Desire (which is the second virtue, Hope), and finally 
with the third of the virtues, the Love of Benevolence or 
Friendship. 

Everything centres in Love (the Love of Benevolence or 
Friendship). Hitherto the distinction between the two kinds 
of love had not been especially emphasized. "Dann das were 
mein begehren, dass du es einmal recht auss dem verstiindest, 

1 In the 1850 edition, in which Spe's language has been modernized, 
we find the terms 'Liebe der Begierde', 'Liebe des Wohlwollens', 'Liebe 
der Freundschaft'. Thomas Aquinas, from whom, as will be shown later, 
Spe probably borrowed the terms, uses the forms 'amor concupiscentiae', 
'amor benevolentiae seu amicitiae'. 



Friedrich Spe and the Theodicee of Leibniz 157 

sintemahl es dir hernacher dein gantzes lebenlang sehr offt 
zu nutz kommen wird, und 1st ihme selber schon zu wissen, 
sonderlich weil auch etliche Geistliche Biicher (wie ich ver- 
mercke) diese beide Liebe nicht recht unterscheiden, sondern 
fast durch einander vverffen. " As soon as one loves God with 
the Love of Benevolence one's sins are forgiven even without 
a formal confession, because repentence and sorrow for one's 
sins are really the results of Love, the Love of Benevolence. 
''Also dass es noch war bleibet, was gesagt ist, dass sonst 
keine eintzige andere Tugend den Sunder gerecht mache, als 
allein die liebe der gutwilligkeit, oder der freundschafft. Unnd 
zwar im alten Testament haben die Menschen kein ander mit- 
tel zur gerechtfertigung gehabt, als eben die Rew und Lieb, 
welch iiber die begangene Siinde auss Gottes Liebe her- 
riihrte. ' ' 

These are Spe's closing words in his introduction to the 
Giildenes Tugendbuch. Leibniz, in order to make the point 
a little more clear, adds in brackets, in his French translation * 
of Spe 's introduction : "Us f alloit toujours cependant que la 
grace que le Messie nous devoit obtenir y entrat. Car si Dieu 
n'exercoit pas une benignite gratieuse envers nous, nostre foy 
ou dilection ne nous obtiendroit pas la beatitude qu'il a bien 
voulu nous promettre en consideration de son fils." 



The body of the Giildenes Tugendbuch is merely an ela- 
borate development of the introduction. The book is divided 
into three parts, the first being devoted to a discussion of "Der 
Glaube, ' ' the second to ' ' Hoffnung oder Liebe der Begierlich- 
keit," and the third to "Liebe der Gutwilligkeit oder Freund- 
schafft. ' ' Spe has skilfully divided his material into chapters, 
and by this division has indicated the importance to be at- 
tached to each of the three virtues. Twelve chapters are re- 
quired for his exposition and explanation of Faith, twenty- 
two for Hope, and thirty-five for Love. That Love is the 
main theme, and that Faith and Hope are analyzed primarily 
to show their relation to Love is indicated by the number of 

1 This translation was sent with the letter to the Electress Sophie. 
How greatly Leibniz was interested in Spe's introduction will be shown 
in a later chapter. 



158 Lieder 

chapters devoted to the third virtue more than the sum of 
those devoted to Faith and Hope. As for the amount of actual 
material in the three parts, the ratio indicated in the num- 
ber of chapters remains almost the same. 1 About one-seventh 
of the book is devoted to Faith, two-sevenths to Hope, and 
four-sevenths to Love. 

Of the utmost importance for our study is one fact: Spe's 
Guldenes Tugendbuch is a carefully planned work with the 
prime object of demonstrating to the world that in the power 
of divine love is to be found all happiness and all salvation. 
Everything else is subordinated to this guiding principle. 
This divine love, this "Liebe der Gutwilligkeit," this "amor 
dei," as we shall see, appealed strongly to Leibniz; upon this 
principle he built his Theodicee. 

Not the detailed chapters of the Tugendbuch but the spirit 
of the whole appeals to us as it did to Leibniz. As might be 
expected from the title and from the headings of the chapters, 
the Tugendbuch is essentially an "Erbauungsbuch," a book 
written to exalt the reader, to instil in him some of the reli- 
gious fervor with which its author was inspired. The Tu- 
gendbuch, naive and light as some of its chapters might seem, 
accomplishes its object. When one has read it through, one 
understands the goal that the author has in mind, one under- 
stands the effect it must have had upon its readers, most of 
whom were living in the midst of a country torn by reli- 
gious dissension and prostrated by the horrors of the Thir- 
ty Years' War. The Tugendbuch held out hopes for a brighter 
future. And by what method? 

In the first place, the Tugendbuch breathes the spirit of 
cheerfulness, of hopefulness, of optimism. Throughout its 
hundreds of pages the reader is constantly reminded of the in- 
herent goodness of God, of His love for fellow men, His efforts 

1 In the original edition of 1649 the division is as follows: Introduc- 
tion 32 pages; Faith, 132; Hope, 218; Love, 424; total, 806. 

In the 1850 edition: Introduction, 18; Faith, 76; Hope, 157; Love, 
296; total, 547. This edition (as also that of 1887) actually divides 
the material in that it has a separate title page and independent pagi- 
nation for "Love." 

In the 1887 edition: Introduction, 17; Faith, 77; Hope, 148; Love, 
294; total 536. 



Friedrich Spe and the Theodicee of Leibniz 159 

and constant desire to make men better. In striking contrast 
is this spirit to that of some of Spe's contemporaries who em- 
phasized the wrath of God, His determination to exterminate 
all who thwarted His will, His day of judgment when all sins 
would be punished. Spe says practically nothing about hered- 
itary sin, he disregards almost entirely the part played by 
Satan, he is concerned chiefly with the three golden virtues, 
and of these three the greatest is Love. 

Spe dwells (as did Leibniz) upon the all-embracing power 
(Vollkommenheit) of God; consequently God must be in- 
finitely good and kind and merciful. "Und wir erkennen als- 
bald, das Gott ein allmachtiger, ewiger, unbegreifflieher, all- 
wissender Herr sey. ' ' l Everything we possess comes from 
God. "1st bewust, dass weil der mensch alles von Gott hat, 
und also Leib und Seel und vil mehr sehuldig ist, es gewiss 
gar gering und gleichsam nichts sein muss was soldier Lei- 
beigner zahlen wird. " (p. 664). In other words, man is en- 
tirely dependent upon God ; but God extends His divine love 
to all, consequently in a simple act of love we can find salva- 
tion and forgiveness for all trangressions. How eagerly such 
a whole-souled philosophy was accepted by the readers can 
only be imagined ; that it appealed to Leibniz we shall soon see. 

The Tugendbuch emphasizes, finally, the greatness of God, 
the splendor of his creations, the harmony of the universe. 
The idea of an all-embracing harmony is brought out again 
and again. A scene is represented in Heaven, for instance, 
with God on the throne and the twelve apostles singing His 
praises, first individually, then in chorus. Another represents 
the virgins in the same way, another the angels, and so on. 
Again and again Spe enumerates names of flowers, trees, ani- 
mals, races of men, classes of nobles all to indicate that 
everybody and everything is subject to God, who is responible 
for the existence of all. In many cases poems are introduced 
(afterwards included in the Trutz Nachtigal) to lend a musi- 
cal and artistic touch to the descriptions. 

With a definite goal always in mind the glorification of 
God and of His divine Love Spe was able to make upon his 
readers a profound impression. The absence of pessimistic 

1 Cf. Spe's introduction to the Tugendbuch. 



160 Lieder 

strains, the constant stimulus toward higher aims, the em- 
phasis upon God's goodness these were the fundamental 
principles which impressed Leibniz as they would impress 
every reader of the Guldenes Tugendbuch. 

As to the relation between the Guldenes Tugendbuch and 
the Trutz Nachtigal, little need be added. In summing up 
the contents of Trutz Nachtigal, every literary history of Ger- 
many emphasizes Spe's interest for nature, his delight in the 
beauties of the world, his eye for harmony, his delicate ear 
for melodious tones, his all-embracing love for humanity. 
The poems of Trutz Nachtigal, as can be seen from a hasty 
perusal of their titles, are merely poetic versions of the prin- 
ciples laid down by the Guldenes Tugendbuch. In fact, the 
extant manuscripts of Trutz Nachtigal and Guldenes Tugend- 
buch show that many poems were included in both works. In 
the Tugendbuch we find thirty-nine poems of varying length. 
The Paris manuscript of Trutz Nachtigal, for instance, cites 
only the opening lines of twenty-three of the poems, and refers 
to the Guldenes Tugendbuch for the complete versions. (Cf. 
Balke, XXXIX). The Diisseldorf manuscript of the Tugend- 
buch contains twenty of the poems that are in Trutz Nachtigal. 

Thus we see that Trutz Nachtigal and Guldenes Tugend- 
buch are merely different versions of the same underlying 
thoughts. Leibniz knew the Trutz Nachtigal; he was chiefly 
interested, however, in the Tugendbuch. It is the Guldenes 
Tugendbuch therefore, which concerns us chiefly in tracing 
the relation between Spe and Leibniz. 

III. THE GULDENES TUGENDBUCH AND THE THEODICEE 

A brief review of the circumstances surrounding the ap- 
pearance of Leibniz 's Theodicee will not be out of place. The 
seventeenth century which had brought upon Europe the ter- 
rible Thirty Years' War, the War of the Spanish Succession, 
the War for Dutch independence, the bitter internal religious 
dissensions resulting from the Counter-Reformation, wit- 
nessed at its very end (in 1697) the publication of Pierre 
Bayle's Dictionnaire historique et critique. 

Bayle (1647-1706) l was one of the foremost thinkers of 

1 For accounts of Bayle cf. W. Windelband, Lehrbuch der Oechicht 
der Philosophie, Tubingen, 1903, p. 405; J. T. Merz, Leibniz, Philadel- 
phia, 1884, pp. 99-102. 



Friedrich Spe and the Theodicee of Leibniz 161 

his day. Born a Protestant, he changed to Catholicism at the 
age of twenty-two, only to be won back to Protestantism the 
next year. Although born in France, he had received much 
of his training in Geneva, had taught philosophy at the aca- 
demy at Sedan, and in 1681, when the Reformed universities 
and academies in France were discontinued, had migrated to 
Rotterdam. Here he began that fruitful activity which won 
for him the name ' ' the philosopher of Rotterdam. ' ' 

In a series of remarkable pamphlets, culminating in the 
epoch-making Dictionnaire, Bayle emphasized the weakness of 
human reason, the necessity of an attitude of reserve toward 
those matters which were really doubtful. He pointed out 
that many a universally accepted theological truth was in 
reality only a hypothesis ; he seemed to take grim pleasure in 
calling upon theologians to prove conclusively what they had 
formerly accepted without the slightest question. Whether 
Bayle himself merely wished to throw doubt on the methods 
of proving theological truths, or whether he really depended 
more on faith and revelation than on reason, need not concern 
us here. He became a sceptic, and his Dictionnaire became the 
so-called ' ' bible of scepticism. ' ' 

Bayle exerted an important influence on the eighteenth 
century. His Dictionnaire became the weapon of many in 
the fight against metaphysics, against religion, against all dog- 
matism. He was the first to use a comprehensive scholar- 
ship and carefully trained logical mind to point out the irre- 
concilable contrast between reason and faith, although by so 
doing he recognized that reason was a force no less powerful 
than faith, a force which in the course of the following cen- 
turies was to be victorious over blind faith. ' ' His most violent 
opponents, ' ' says Voltaire in the Siecle de Louis XIV, ' ' must 
admit that in his works not a single line occurs which contains 
a blasphemy against the Christian religion, but even his most 
zealous defenders will concede that in his controversial articles 
not a single page occurs which does not lead the reader to 
doubt and often to incredulity. ' ' * 

Bayle 's works were widely read. His Dictionnaire was 
hailed with approval ; a second and enlarged edition was pub- 

* R. Habs, Die Theodicee von Q. W. Leibniz (Iteclam edition), p. 31. 



162 Lieder 

lished in 1702. Two years later Bayle began to publish his 
Response aux questions d'un Provinzial, in which he defends 
the views originally propounded in the Dictionnaire. At the 
royal court in Berlin, Bayle 's works, particularly the Dic- 
tionnaire, were carefully studied. Queen Sophie Charlotte 
discussed with her friend Leibniz the propositions advanced 
by Bayle. As a result of these discussions, Leibniz was re- 
quested by the Queen to put his thoughts into writing. Sophie 
Charlotte died in 1705, Bayle in 1706. After the death of 
the Queen, Leibniz began to collect the material for his Theo- 
dicee, which appeared first in 1710. 

It has been said, and with reason, that the appearance of 
Bayle 's Dictionnaire was responsible for the Theodicee. This 
statement is in the main correct. If the Dictionnaire had not 
appeared, and if the Queen of Prussia had not requested 
Leibniz to put into writing the arguments which he used 
against Bayle in his conversations with her, the Theodicee 
might not have been written. It must be remembered, how- 
ever, that Leibniz's position against the scepticism cham- 
pioned by Bayle had been decided upon long before the ap- 
pearance of the Dictionnaire. Leibniz's earlier works and 
particularly his letters reveal his fundamental principles, 
which are in harmony with those advanced in his Theodicee. 
If the Dictionnaire of Bayle had never appeared, Leibniz's 
philosophy would probably be just as well known, although 
perhaps not so clearly stated as in the Theodicee. In other 
words, the Theodicee must not be looked upon solely as an 
answer to Bayle. In studying the Theodicee therefore, we 
should be concerned not so much in emphasizing the immediate 
circumstances which brought about the publication of the work 
as in studying the origins of those principles which were the 
foundations of Leibniz's optimism. 

Briefly described, the Theodicee is a vindication or justifi- 
cation of God, a treatise concerning faith and absolute knowl- 
edge, an exposition of the spirit of optimism, or, in Leibniz's 
own words, a collection of essays concerning the goodness and 
the grace and the love of God, the freedom of man, and the 
origin of evil. The whole work has a deeply religious char- 
acter; the arguments seem to centre about one main thesis, 



Friedrich Spe and the Theodicee of Leibniz 163 

namely that the system of the universe depends upon the wis- 
dom, justice, love of God. 1 

By first presupposing this all-powerful love, he goes on to 
prove that the freedom of man and the existence of evil are 
by no means contradictory, inasmuch as God can allow this 
freedom even though He know how man will act. The world 
contains evil because evil is necessarily contained in a finite 
world. We are by nature finite beings ; evil merely proves our 
original limitations. The actual presence of evil in the world 
does not reflect upon the work of an all-powerful, beneficent 
creator. Finiteness and limitation are part of the nature of 
all creatures since all finite things are imperfect. Limitation 
involves sin, sin involves sorrow. We can not imagine a world 
without sin. But this great love and goodness and grace, 
which are a part of God, guarantees that this world of ours 
contains as few evils as possible, that this world is the best 
among possible worlds, in other words, that the evil which is 
necessarily a part of us on account of our limitations is offset 
by the goodness of God. This is the great Leibnizian theory of 
optimism ; this supreme optimism depends upon the goodness, 
the love of God. 

The three parts into which the Theodicee is divided deal 
respectively with the goodness of God, the liberty of man, and 
the origin of evil. Naturally the second and third divisions 
depend upon the first. By proving God's infinite goodness, 
Leibniz shows that man can exercise his free will even though 
evil does exist, that evil exists only because according to the 
nature of finite things it must exist, and that God through 
His infinite goodness has created the best of possible worlds. 
Everything, therefore, centres about God's goodness and love, 
just as everything in Spe's Giildenes Tugendbuch centres 
about this same goodness and love of God. It is interesting 
to note that Leibniz's reference in the Theodicee to Spe appears 
in this first general division "Sur la bonte de Dieu." This 
in itself indicates that Spe's influence upon Leibniz, so far 
as the Theodicee was concerned, was felt mainly in this first 

'Cf. letter of Leibniz to Jablonski, Jan. 23, 1700 (Gerhardt, vol. 
VI, p. 3) : "Ich hatte mir einsmahls vorgenommen eine Theodicaeum zu 
schreiben und darinnen Gottes Giitigkeit, Weisheit und Gerechtigkeit, so 
wohl als hochste Maoht und unverhinderliche Influentz zu vindiciren." 



164 Lieder 

phase of the problem. That the principle of the importance 
of divine love, as emphasized by Spe in the Tugendbuch, made 
a particularly profound impression upon Leibniz is admitted 
by the latter 's significant sentence " je me conteray de nommer 
le Pere Frederic Spec Jesuite, un de plus excellens homines 
de sa Societe, qui a aussi ete de ce sentiment commun de 1 'effi- 
cace de I'amour de Dieu, comme il paroit par la Preface du 
beau livre, qu'il a fait en Allemand sur les vertus Chretien- 
nes. " 1 It is this ' ' sentiment commun de 1 'efficace de 1 'amour 
de Dieu ' ' which is emphasized on almost every page both of the 
Giildenes Tugendbuch and of the Theodicee. 

The development of Leibniz's interest in this principle of 
divine love can be followed in his writings referring to Spe. 
In 1667, as a young man of twenty-one, he arrived in Mainz, 
where he met the Archbishop Johann Philipp Schonborn. 
About two years later, in 1669 or 1670, he wrote the first of the 
famous memorials which many years later led to the establish- 
ment of the Prussian Academy of Sciences. This first com- 
prehensive outline is entitled Grundriss eines Bedenkens von 
Aufrichtung einer Societdt in Teutschland zu Aufnehmen der 
Kiinste und Wissenschaften. 

The argument followed in the Grundriss is of special inter- 
est, for it shows the unmistakable influence of the introduction 
to Spe's Tugendbuch. The academy should be established, 
says Leibniz, first for the sake of one's conscience, secondly 
for the purpose of bringing immortal fame to the founders, 
and thirdly for the common good. A good conscience is a joy- 
ful disposition in consequence of a hope for eternal bliss. 
Hope is faith in the future, faith is a hope in the past, both 
hope and faith depend on love, and all three are based on 
knowledge. Love is the all-important prerequisite in under- 
standing the power of God and the beauty of the universe. 
The more a person knows about the world, the more he appre- 
ciates the harmony in the world and the more he respects the 
wisdom and love of the Creator. An academy, therefore, 
which collects facts and advances knowledge will also accom- 
plish much for the glory of God. When the French Academy 
was founded by Cardinal Richelieu, some one proposed that 

1 Theodicee, 96. 



Friedrich Spe and the Theodicee of Leibniz 165 

every member be obliged to compose something every year in 
praise of God; this proposition was unfortunately never car- 
ried out. But, as Leibniz adds, the words of Friedrich Spe 
are to be particularly praised, for he stated that nothing 
should be done without considering the glory and honor due 
to God. 

The Gnindriss mentions practically only two names 
Richelieu, as the founder of the French Academy, and Spe as 
the exponent of those ideas which Leibniz lays as the founda- 
tion of the proposed academy in Germany. Spe's Tiigendbuch 
emphasized the power of divine love; Leibniz's Theodicee is 
foreshadowed in the Gnindriss in which is strongly empha- 
sized the importance of Spe's views. 

Closely related to the Gnindriss is Leibniz's letter to the 
Electress Sophie, written in 1697 the letter in which he en- 
closed his French translation of Spe's introducton to the Tu- 
gendbnch. Here we have the same principles as Spe sets 
forth ; these principles, moreover, are developed by Leibniz 
in the body of the letter, and must by no means be confused 
with the remarks which he enclosed in brackets in the trans- 
lation proper. If we keep in mind the great part played by 
the Electress Sophie in Leibniz 's life and the importance of his 
correspondence with her, we can understand how much value 
is to be attached to the statements contained in this letter and 
how valuable this letter will be in tracing a connection between 
Spe's Tugendbuch and Leibniz's Theodicee. 

First of all, Leibniz draws a distinction between two kinds 
of love aimer and aimer sur toutes choses, corresponding 
to Spe's division. To love, he says, is to find satisfaction in 
the perfections and advantages, particularly in the happiness, 
of another. To love beyond all things is to find such pleasure 
in the happiness of another so that one regards all other pleas- 
ures as nothing when compared with this. He distinguishes, 
moreover, between "1 'amour de la bienveuillance " (which 
corresponds to Spe's "Liebe der Gutwilligkeit") and 
"1 'amour de cupidite" or "1 'amour de concupiscence" (which 
corresponds to Spe's "Liebe der Begierlichkeit"). Then fol- 
lows the all-important sentence: "Us rapportent 1'amour de 
la premiere espece [de bienveuillance] a la vertu de la Charite, 



166 Lieder 

et 1 'amour de la second espece [de cupidite] a la vertu de 
1'Esperance. " This, of course, follows the method of Spe 
who differentiates "Hoffnung" and "Liebe" by calling the 
former "Liebe der Begierlichkeit " (Leibniz's "1 'amour de 
cupidite" or "1'Esperance"), and the latter "Liebe der Gut- 
willigkeit" (Leibniz's "1 'amour de bienveuillance " or 
"Charite"). 

Leibniz regarded a clear definition of love as of great im- 
portance. Curiously enough, we have a direct confession from 
Leibniz that he owed to Spe many of his ideas concerning this 
love. In the Codex juris gentium diplomaticum (1693) we 
find the following statement: "Justitiam. . . .definiemus cari- 
tatem sapientis .... Caritas est benevolentia universalis, et 
benevolentia amandi sive diligendi habitus. Amare autem sive 
deligere est felicitate alterius delectari, vel, quod eodem redit, 
f elicitatem alienam adsciscere in suam. ' ' Here Leibniz 's defi- 
nition of "love" corresponds practically to Spe's "Liebe der 
Gut willigkeit " as distinguished from "Liebe der Begierlich- 
keit." But in the letter to the Electress Sophie, Leibniz ex- 
presses his debt to Spe. Toward the end of the letter occurs 
this paragraph : " C 'est la le sens de ce que j 'avois fait im- 
primer en latin en 1693 [in the Codex referred to above]. 
Mes, c'est des ma jeunesse que j 'avois forme ces idees [con- 
cerning the two kinds of love. etc.]. Un grand prince qui 
estoit en meine temps un grand prelat me recommandant le 
livre Allemand du P. Spec, sur les trois vertus Chrestiennes, 
imprime et reimprime plus d'une fois a Cologne, y contribua 
beaucoup. ' ' 

In these final words "y contribua beaucoup" we find 
the key to the whole problem. From his youth, Leibniz says, 
he had these ideas which, as I shall try to show, dominated the 
Theodicee. Both Spe and Leibniz begin their respective works 
with an introduction, both men sum up in the introduction 
the main argument in the work that follows. Spe, as we have 
seen, traces everything to the power of divine love. Leibniz, 
as we shall see, does the same. 

In one of the opening paragraphs of the introduction to 
the Theodicee, Leibniz has this to say of love and its power: 
"Car il n'y a rien si agreable que d 'aimer ce qui est digne 



Friedrich Spe and the Theodicee of Leibniz 167 

d 'amour. L 'Amour est cette affection qui nous fait trouver 
du plaisir dans les perfections de ce qu'on aime, et il n'y a 
rien de plus parf ait que Dieu, n 'y rien de plus charmant. Pour 
Paimer il suffit d'en envisager les perfections, ce qui est aise, 
parce que nous trouvons en nous leurs idees. Les perfections 
de Dieu sont celles de nos ames, mais il les possede sans bornes : 
il est un Ocean, dont nous n 'avons re<ju que des gouttes : il y 
a en nous quelque puissance, quelque connoissance, quelque 
bonte, mais elles sont toutes entieres en Dieu. L 'ordre, les pro- 
portions, rharmonie nous enchantent, la peinture et la musique 
en sont des echantillons ; Dieu est tout ordre, il garde tous- 
jours la justesse des proportions, il fait l'harmonie univer- 
selle : toute la beaute est un epanchement de ses rayons. 

"II s'ensuit manifestiment que la veritable piete, et meme 
la veritable f elicite, consiste dans 1 'armour de Dieu, mais dans 
un amour eclaire, dont 1'ardeur soit accompagnee de lu- 
miere " 

Upon this principle of divine love, therefore, Leibniz lays 
great stress. He goes so far as to state that one cannot even 
love God without recognizing His completeness, His perfec- 
tions. I quote from another of the opening paragraphs of 
Leibniz's introduction. "On ne sauroit aimer Dieu, sans en 
connoistre les perfections, et cette connoissance renferme les 
principes de la veritable piete." Throughout the rest of the 
introduction and in the essay proper all the essential Leib- 
nizian principles preestablished harmony, 'the necessity of 
evil in a finite world, the theory that this is the best of all pos- 
sible worlds are subordinated to the great principle of divine 
love. 

It is important to note that practically every time Leibniz 
refers to Spe, he speaks of the divine love which Spe so suc- 
cessfully emphasized in the Tugendbuch; again and again he 
expresses his indebtedness to Spe. The following selections 
will make clear the consistency with which Leibniz reiterates 
the importance of the divine love advocated by Spe in the 
Guldenes Tugendbuch. 

In the Grundriss (1669-70), as we have seen, Leibniz 
argues that the great academy should be established to prove 
the glory of God and the harmony of the universe. The Tu- 



168 Lieder 

gendbuch is not mentioned by name, but Spe is praised for em- 
phasizing the necessity of divine love. 1 

From the Elogium Patris Friderici Spee (1677) : "Nescio 
enim, an quisquam unquam autorum, qui in populi usum 
scripsere, rem tantum, uno nostro autore excepto, pro dig- 
nitate attigerit. Ostendit enim, in quo vera consistat natura 
contritionis et amoris Deo debiti, idque familiari sermone et 
ad commovendos homines apto. Viam quin etiam subindicat 
per quam unusquisque ad contritionem pervenire possit, ne 
sibi imaginentur homines, veram contitionem et actum amoris 
Dei super omnia esse rem, ad quam post omnem conatum ad- 
hibitum non semper liceat pervenire. Quin imoclare edisserit, 
qui hunc amorem non habeat, eum esse in statu mortalis pac- 
cati, ut scilicet tacite innueret (nam totidem verbis effere, 
credo, ausus non est) attritionem solam etiam cum poeniten- 
tiae sacremento non sufficere ad remissionem peccati et justi- 
ficationem : contra vulgarem scholasticorum opinionem, nuper 
in Gallica recte impugnatem. ' ' 

From the letter to the Duke of Braunschweig-Liineburg 
(1693) : "Und wird man wenig Practices Autores finden, da- 
rinn die rechte Natur einer unverfalschten und nicht auf 
Hoffnung oder Furcht, sondern einig und allein auff die 
Schonheit und Vollkommenheit Gottes gegriindeten, und also 
uninteressirten Liebe zu Gott, so wohl erclaret und dargestellt. 
Wie denn, seiner Lehre nach, solche Liebe den wahren glau- 
ben in sich beschliesset und also nichts anders ist, als was 
wir den Lebendigen oder durch die Liebe thatigen glauben 
nennen. Da er dann treflich weiset, dass in der that alles 
darauf ankomme. " 

From the letter to Morell (1696) : "II a sur tout reconnu 
et recommade ce grand secret de 1 'effect du veritable amour 
de Dieu." 

From the letter to tre Electress Sophie (1697) : "mais tous 
les amours sont surpasses par celuy qui a Dieu pour object, et 
il n'y que Dieu qui puisse estre aime avec raison sur toutes 
choses. ' ' 

From Leibniz's review of the book by the Archbishop of 
Cambray (1697): "Cependent il [Spe] faut avouer qu'on 

1 Cf. 16 of the Orundriss. 



Friedrich Spe and the Theodicee of Leibniz 169 

donne pas toujours des preceptes suffisants pour exciter le pur 
amour de Dieu sur toutes choses et la veritable contrition, et 
lors meme qu'on fonde 1'amour de Dieu sur ses bienfaits, 
considered d'une maniere que ne marque pas en meme temps 
ses perfections, c 'est un amour d 'un degre inf erieur utile sans 
doute et louable, mais qui ne laisse pas d'etre interesse et n'a 
pas toutes les conditions du pur amour divin ; et selon les 
principes du P. Spee, etc. ' ' 

From the letter to Placcius (1697) : "Usque adeo, ut me 
etiam suggarente a nonnullis in praxin traductam fuerit 
elegans, quod proponit, et Mathematica ratione demonstrat, 
artificium, indefinenter laudandi Deum." 

From the letter to Mile. Scudery (1698) : "II a sur tout 
reconnu et recommende le grand secret de 1 'effect du veritable 
amour de Dieu." 

Finally the much quoted passage from the Theodicee 
(1710) : "Et maintenant, sans alleguer beaucoup d'autres 
Auteurs des plus considerables, je me contenteray de nommer 
le Pere Frederic Spee Jesuite, un de plus excellens homines 
de sa Societe, qui a aussi ete de ce sentiment commun de 
1'efficace de 1'amour de Dieu, comme il paroit par le Preface 
du beau livre qu'il a fait en Allemand sur les vertus Chre- 
tiennes." ( 96). 

That this principle of divine love is the guiding principle 
both of Spe's Tugendbuch and of Leibniz's Theodicee will 
hardly be denied in view of the passages quoted from both 
texts. It would, of course, be an exaggeration to state that 
Leibniz got this principle of divine love from Spe and only 
from Spe. It is, however, apparent that the principle as 
brought out by Spe appealed strongly to Leibniz. The great 
philosopher never hesitated to express his debt to the Jesuit 
priest. It is of interest also that, according to a thorough stu- 
dent of Leibniz's philosophy, the principle of divine love is 
the guiding principle of all of Leibniz 's philosophy : l 

"The more reasonable a man is, the less can he find his 
happiness in selfish isolation, the more will he rejoice in the 
happiness of others as well as his own, i. e. love men. The 

1 Otto Pfleiderer, The Philosophy of Religion on the Bati* of it* 
History, translated from the German by Alexander Stewart and Allen 
Menzies, London, 1886, vol. I, pp. 85, 86. 



170 Lieder 

more love, then, the more happiness, the more perfection, the 
more life. Hence Leibniz gives us that final saying, which we 
should in vain seek in Spinoza, ' Our life is to be esteemed in 
so far as we do good in it.' 

' ' Leibniz is, however, quite at one with Spinoza in holding 
that the moral perfection, the happiness, and the freedom of 
man cannot be dissevered from true piety. And this he de- 
fines just as Spinoza does, as love to God springing out of the 
knowledge of the divine perfection. He recognizes the dis- 
tinctive superiority of the Christian religion over that of the 
Jews and the heathen, in that it makes the Deity the object, 
not of our fear and awe, but of our love. Religion thereby 
satisfies the innermost requirement of our nature, and gives 
us a foretaste of the future felicity. For nothing brings so 
great happiness as to love what is worthy to be loved. Love 
rejoices in the perfection of the beloved ; but there is nothing 
more perfect than God ; hence love to him is the natural con- 
sequence of contemplating his perfections; and this contem- 
plation is easy to us because we possess the reflections of those 
perfections in ourselves." 

Why did the Tugendbuch make so great an impression upon 
Leibniz ? Aside from the fact that it strongly emphasized the 
principle of divine love, it was written in a style that ap- 
pealed directly to the masses. Leibniz, we must remember, 
was one of the first German scholars to recommend the use of 
the vernacular. During his residence in Mainz (1667-1672) 
he had brought out a new edition of a work by Marius Nizo- 
lius entitled Antibarbarus, sen de veris principiis et vera 
ratione philosophandi contra Pseudophilosophos. At the re- 
quest of Boineburg, the Archbishop's minister of state, Leib- 
niz also wrote a dissertation on the philosophical style of 
Nizolius. Here he emphasizes the use of popular words, points 
out that philosophy has advanced more rapidly in England 
and France because in those countries the vernacular was in- 
troduced early as the language of literature, and refers to the 
peculiar aptness of the German language for philosophical ex- 
pression. 1 He tells us that in Leipzig he had learned to write 

*Cf. T. Merz, Leibniz, pp. 32, 33; Paul Pietsch, Leibniz und die 
deutsche Sprache, Berlin, 1907-08 (Wissenschaftliche Beihefte zur Zeit- 
fchrift des Allgemeintn Deutschen Sprachvereins, 4te Reihe, Hefte 29, 
30). 



Friedrich Spe and the Theodicee of Leibniz 171 

German well. In a tract on Roman law he recommends that 
young jurists be trained to speak German, and picks out as a 
model the language of the law courts of Leipzig and of Sax- 
ony. Like Luther, therefore, he used German in many of 
his tracts. Of special importance are his Ermahnung an die 
Teutsche, ihren verstand und sprache besser zu iiben, sammt 
beygefugten vorschlag einer Teutsch gesinten Gesellschaft and 
his Unvorgreiffliche Gedanken betreffend die Ausubung und 
Verbesserung der Teutschen Sprache. 1 

Leibniz advocated the use of German twenty years before 
Christian Thomasius delivered at Leipzig his first university 
lecture in German. Leibniz often used Latin and French, but 
only because he wished for his philosophical works a popular- 
ity and universality which could not be attained through the 
German. He begs forgiveness in the last sentences of the in- 
troduction to the Theodicee, which he wrote in French mainly 
because Bayle had used French in the Dictionnaire. 

In the Tugendbuch Leibniz found a direct and popular 
German vernacular; in his remarks on Spe's style we may 
find an additional and important reason for his interest in 
Spe and his admiration for the Giildenes Tugendbuch. In the 
Elogium (1667) Leibniz says of Spe: "Nescio enim, an quis- 
quam unquam auto rum, qui in populi usu [the italics are 
mine] scripsere, rem tantam, uno nostro autore excepto, pro 
dignitate attigerit. " In the letter to Landgraf Ernst (1680) : 
"Entre les ouvrages de devotion, qui meriteroient d'estre mis 
en usage parmy le peuple je n'en trouve gueres de la force 
du livre du P. Frederic Spee Jesuite, intitule : ' Giildenes Tu- 
gendbuch.' " In the letter to Morell (1696) : "Mais il y a des 
pensees si belles et si profondes, et en meme temps, si bien 
proposees pour toucher meme les ames populaires, et en fon- 
cees dans le monde, que j 'en ay este charme. ' ' In the address 
to the Archbishop of Cambray (1697): "Et j'ai surtout 
trouve de la satisfaction dans les excellents ouvrages du P. 
Spee Jesuite, dont le merite a ete infiniment au-dessus de la 
reputation qu 'il a acquise. ' ' In the letter to Mile, de Scudery 
(1698) : "Mais il y a des pensees si belles proposes pour 

1 Cf. Pietsch; also Couturat, La Logique de Leibniz, p. 515; E. 
Pfleiderer, pp. 689 ff. 



172 Lieder 

toucher meme les ames populaires et enfoncees dans le monde, 
que j 'en ay este charme. ' ' * 

In Spe, therefore, Leibniz found a model. The ideals ad- 
vanced in the Tugendbuch by the Jesuit priest appealed to a 
liberal Protestant like Leibniz; the book was written in the 
popular vein advocated so consistently by Leibniz. 

Of the letters and extracts listed later on, more than 
two-thirds were written during or after 1697, the date of 
the appearance of Bayle's Dictionnaire. In fact some of 
the most important letters and works those to the Electress 
Sophie, to the Archbishop of Cambray, to Placcius, to Mile, 
de Scudery, to the Abbe Nicaise fall in the years 1697 and 
1698 when the excitement about Bayle's work was at its 
height. We can understand Leibniz's method of going about 
his task. When Bayle's work appeared and Europe was 
stirred up about its contents, when the skepticism expressed 
by Bayle threatened to sweep everything before it, when the 
Queen of Prussia called upon Leibniz to put into writing the 
arguments used against Bayle, it was necessary for the philos- 
opher merely to systematize the basic principle which he 
thoroughly believed and which he had admired so greatly in 
Spe's Tugendbuch. Leibniz's Grundriss and his Elogium 
foreshadow his more serious Theodicee. In the chapter to fol- 
low I shall show in more detail the connection between the 
Tugendbuch and the Theodicee. 

Harvard University. FREDERICK W. C. LIEDER. 

(To be continued.) 

1 The similarity in the phrases used by Leibniz in his letter to Morell 
(1696) and in his letter to Mile, de Scudery (1698) is of interest. 



The So-called Prospective Subjunctive in Gothic 173 



THE SO-CALLED PROSPECTIVE OR ANTICIPATORY 
SUBJUNCTIVE IN GOTHIC 

"Notgedrungene Beitrage," I should like to call this con- 
tribution, if I dared on Lessing's account. At the last Michi- 
gan School Masters' Club Professor Hale, under the wider 
head of "Unification in Grammatical Nomenclature," pre- 
sented a paper on the subjunctive, in which he contended 
that the general categories of that mood, called for by the 
facts of chiefly Greek and Latin, and, less imperatively, by 
other Idg. languages, are applicable to German grammar 
also. I was asked to discuss this paper, from the view point 
of the German grammarian. Hale's paper is essentially the 
same as that printed in the Proceedings of the Modern Lang. 
Ass., vol. xxvi. The discussions called forth in Ann Arbor 
at the School Master's Club are printed, with a final reply 
by Hale, in the School Review for November. In my part 
of the discussion I picked out two uses of the subjunctive. 

First : The Subjunctive of Anticipation, so called by 
Hale. I endeavored to show, and, it seems to me, to any one 
at all willing to be led by the logic of the facts, even after 
Hale's strictures in the School Review of November, I did 
show, that the subjunctive which for us now may sometimes 
seem to have anticipatory force, had for our ancestors a dif- 
ferent meaning, if it had any meaning at all. 

In the second place I called attention to the metamorphosis 
of the subjunctive in indirect discourse in German, from pre- 
sumably an optative subjunctive to one with potential, and 
finally to one without much if any meaning at all. 

Though I see no difference in the bearing of the two points 
I made, Hale calls the part of the discussion dealing with the 
anticipatory subjunctive the more important, and proceeds to 
invalidate my argument by making it appear as if I had 
distorted or misinterpreted the facts. I should not deem it 
of any great importance to answer, if it had not been decided 
in the Michigan School Masters' Club to ask the Philological 
Association and the Modern Language Association to appoint 
a joint committee for the purpose of establishing some sort of 



174 Diekhoff 

uniform nomenclature. They are not likely to look into the 
matter with any care, Professor Hale, a member of the com- 
mittee, having declared that the results of my method of pro- 
cedure, upon my exhibition of the facts, seem weighty, but that 
he does not, in Gothic at least, the only language whose evi- 
dence he has time to control, find the facts to be exactly re- 
ported. 

I beg leave to report the facts more accurately, at least 
with some greater detail. They will serve two purposes at 
the same time. In the first place, I think, they will incontro- 
vertibly show, what I started out to show in my former paper, 
now published with a part of the symposium in the School 
Review, namely that the subjunctive in clauses with a particle 
equivalent to until, before, is in Gothic not the rule, and 
where it is found it is often probably not an anticipatory sub- 
junctive. Incidentally a comparison of the Gothic sentences 
with the corresponding Greek shows Wulfila's independence 
as a translator. 

1. Faur]rizei is used in the sense of "before" with refer- 
ence to either a time future or present relatively to the time 
of the speaker, or to a time relatively past to this time. Only 
in the former case could we possibly speak of a subjunctive of 
anticipation. But with faurtyizei we find the subjunctive in 
all cases, also in clauses which, as Hale would say, could under 
no theory have a subjunctive. I "called attention to the fact 
that after comparatives in the main clause, a subjunctive in 
subordinate clauses is quite common in the older Germanic 
dialects, and suggested that, faurpizei having in itself com- 
parative force, its subjunctive might, be of the same origin as 
the subjunctive after comparatives generally. Schulze's 
Grotisches Glossar, which was probably one of Hale's sources 
of information also, cites nine instances in all, and I did not 
look long for any others. But these nine are instructive. Of 
them four passages have a subjunctive which I, for one, could 
not call inticipatory. Not to be misunderstood again, I will 
designate the passages: John 17:4; Gal. 2:12; John 8:58; 
Luke 2:26. In four other cases the subjunctive might have 
the function claimed by Hale, Matth. 6 :8 ; John 13 :19 ; John 
14:29; Mark 14:72; and possibly in a fifth case: Luke 2:21. 



The So-called Prospective Subjunctive in Gothic 175 

2. unte, in the sense of while, as long as, until, is found, 
according to Sehulze, with whose numbers Hale agrees, 22 
times; in twenty instances in clauses with verbs relatively 
present or future, in two instances in clauses whose verbs 
are relatively past to the time of the main verb. These two, 
John 9:18, and Mark 14:54, may be left out of the considera- 
tion as irrelevant. I wish Hale might have specified the four 
cases which he wishes to be subtracted as under no theory 
admitting of an anticipatory subjunctive. If Wulfila were not 
in so many other instances independent of his Greek, as we 
shall see presently, I might be tempted to reject, along with 
the two passages cited, also John 9 :4 ; and I Tim. 4 :13. For in 
these four cases the Greek has an indicative. Could that be 
the reason why Hale selects four for rejection? I can well 
conceive how John 9 :4, e. g., ''We must work, while it is day," 
might have a subjunctive. I am sure I have heard: "Let us 
work while it shall be called to-day," which "shall" Hale 
claims to be the English scion of the old anticipatory sub- 
junctive. (In looking through Erdmann's "Deutsche Syn- 
tax" for some parallel form of German literature I find that 
he also explains the subjunctive after f aur]?izei as probably due 
to the comparative tinge of the particle). On the same ground 
I Tim. 4:13 must, or can be retained. We have then, in all, 
twenty, or, according to Hale, eighteen, instances in which 
Wulfila might have used an anticipatory subjunctive after 
unte. He does use it according to my count, just five times. 1 
But the proportions 5 :15 would by no means be fair in view 
of some other considerations, as we shall see presently. 

3. und Ipatei, in the same sense as unte, is cited six times ; 
in every case the time is relatively present or future. In four 
instances we have the indicative, in two the subjunctive. In 
two instances the Greek has an indicative, and two of the 
Gothic instances Hale wants counted out as irrelevant. Pre- 
sumably they are the same, Matth. 5 :25, and Mark 2 :19. If 
I could only be sure that Wulfila 's feeling in the matter was 
the same as Hale 's. Under the circumstances, I but reluctant- 
ly yield to Hale. But again the proportion 2:2 does not ex- 
actly record the facts. It records only the appearance, as we 
shall see. 

1 Hale says six times, which does not seem exactly to record the facts. 



176 Diekhoff 

The foregoing statement briefly shows the statistics of the 
facts as they appear in Gothic. A comparison with the Greek 
original will show them more nearly as they really are. Pro- 
ceding to this comparison, I start out once more with 

1. Faur\>izei, which, it will be remembered always, no 
matter in what clause, is followed by the subjunctive. Faur- 
\>izei, with the subjunctive, represents : 

a) in five cases a Greek irpo row e. Ace. c. Inf. : Matth. 
6 :8 ; Luke 2 :21 ; John 13 :19 ; John 17 :5 ; Gal. 2 :12. 

b) in three cases Greek irpiv c. Ace. c. Inf.: John 8:58; 
John 14 :29 ; Mark 14 :72. 

c) in but one case it represents a Greek irpiv % c. Conj.; 
Luke 2:26. 

That might look as if the feeling for the anticipatory sub- 
junctive had been pretty well alive in Wulfila, rather than 
the opposite, inasmuch as he seems to use it even in spite of 
the diverting influence of his original. But wait; this time I 
should like to resort to a little counting. For an anticipatory 
subjunctive four cases can not count, as I said before. That 
leaves of the nine but five, and of these the last one cited 
above does not have full weight because of the subjunctive in 
Greek as its model. If the subjunctive could be put on a level 
with other subjunctives after comparatives, the four cases to 
be rejected under Hale's theory are of equal if not greater 
weight than the others, because under no theory which Hale 
proposes could they be called for. Besides, the theory of an 
anticipatory subjunctive in Gothic will be rather badly shaken 
by the other evidence also. Let us make 

2) a comparison of unte with the Greek models. Leaving 
out the two irrelevant cases, we have 

a) unte with the Indicative represents 

2 Io>s c. Ind. Praes. : John 9 :4; I Tim. 4 :13. 

1 iv <o c. Ind. Praes. : Luke 5 :34 ; but 
10 Io> s av c. Conj. Aor. : Matth. 5 :18 ; 5 :26 ; 10 :23 ; Mark 
6 :10 ; 9 :1 ; 12 :26 ; Luke 9 :27 ; 15 :4 ; 17 :8 ; 20 :43. 

1 Iws OTOV c. Conj. Aor. : Luke 15:8. 

1 Iws ov c. Conj. : Aor. : John 13 :38. 

That means : unte stands with an indicative, where, accord- 
ing to my interpretation, Hale's theory would call for, or at 



The So-called Prospective Subjunctive in Gothic 177 

least admit a subjunctive, in three cases where also the Greek 
has an indicative, and where, accordingly, the writer may 
have looked at his passage from some angle from which a 
subjunctive seemed out of place. But in twelve other cases 
not only the inherent sense, but also the Greek original would 
have led Wulfila to use a subjunctive, if this mode had had 
prospective force for him. 

b) In five cases we find unte with the subjunctive; but in 
all but one also the Greek has a subjunctive in these instances ; 
namely: I Cor. 4:5; Ephes. 4:13; I Cor. 11:26; Gal. 4:19; 
in Luke 19 :13 the Greek has an indicative. I do not want to 
ask as to the meaning of the subjunctive in these five in- 
stances. Inherently they do not seem to differ from the other 
fifteen. Even to remind that in the Germanic language, our 
so-called subjunctive is almost altogether made up of optative 
forms might suggest more than I should wish to suggest. But, 
at any rate, it would hardly do for Hale to claim these in- 
stances as proof, for the existence of an anticipatory subjunc- 
tive in Gothic, the oldest accessible Germanic monument. 
Whatever literary tradition was behind Wulfila was Greek 
and Latin, and that this tradition was strong, though not 
strong enough to make him a slave, was admirably shown by 
Stolzenburg Zfd. Ph. 37, p. 145 ff., and 352 ff. If, with this 
tradition upon him, his Greek original could in but five cases 
induce him to use a subjunctive, but was counteracted in 
twelve cases by a stronger native tendency of the Gothic, it 
must be considered established that the particular force call- 
ing for a subjunctive in Greek was not felt in Gothic. 

3. und ]>atei, with the meaning, until, while, is found six 
times, four times with the indicative : Matth. 5 :18, 5 :25 ; I 
Cor. 15:25; and Mark 2:19. Twice it is followed by a sub- 
junctive clause : Neh. 7 :3 ; and Rom. 1 1 :25. Two of the 
clauses with the indicative Hale wants to strike out as irre- 
levant: presumably Matth. 5:25, and Mark 2:19. Though I 
do not see any inherent reason for rejecting any one, in or- 
der to establish my contention I can well afford to do so. For 
in these two cases also the Greek has an indicative, whereas 
the Gothic indicative in the other two eases again represents 
Greek subjunctives. 



178 Diekhoff 

Considering all these facts, we are safe in claiming that 
there was no anticipatory subjunctive in Gothic after par- 
ticles meaning "before, until, as long as." 

Whether the subjunctive, which is afterwards often found 
after some of the particles with this meaning in other Ger- 
manic languages, had anticipatory force, I am not prepared 
to assert with any great definiteness. It looks very much as 
if it had been of the same origin as that often found after 
comparatives in a main clause. Be that as it may. I made the 
claim, however, that in ' ' modern German, ' ' for which I would 
better have said in the German of to-day, the subjunctive 
after his, bevor, usually has optative force. And that claim I 
uphold, in spite of Hale's quotation from Luther. Since 
Luther's day, usage has changed once more. Just that fact 
I wanted to impress. And the same process of change in 
meaning I illustrated in my discussion of the subjunctive in 
indirect discourse in German. Hale calls that of less 
importance, though I do not see the reason. He grants in his 
original paper that the meaning of form, changes in any 
language in the course of time. He even declares himself in 
substantial agreement with Professor Scott's theory of the 
original meaning and the greater antiquity of the subjunctive 
and optative, as over against the indicative; and he must 
therefore assume that the Idg. mother tongue, with the cate- 
gories which he assumes for it, was a good ways removed in 
time and development from the language of Professor Scott's 
"homunculus," if we might appropriate that name for the 
prototype of man. And yet he is rather insistent to identify 
modern English and German, as well as Romance usages with 
the speech habits of the ancients, without investigating, and 
without paying much heed to the investigation of the various 
special treatises at hand as to the possible development of a 
given construction within the individual history of any lan- 
guage. 

I trust that this time my method of procedure is no less 
sound, and that at the same time Professor Hale will find the 
facts exactly reported. In the few hours allotted me for pre- 
paring my first reply I had to rely for the facts upon the 
statements of Streitberg and other grammarians. Nor do I 
think that their statements really misrepresent the facts. 



The So-called Prospective Subjunctive in Gothic 179 

Finally, in reply to Professor Hale's "Finally" in the 
School Review of November : To me, as a German grammarian 
it matters little whether Brugmann's categories of the sub- 
junctive are adopted by comparative grammarians as the 
more nearly adequate, or whether they would rather choose 
Hale's. It is as easy to understand, e. g., that the negative 
participle ^ should in some special cases be drawn to an anti- 
cipatory subjunctive and help to delimit a so-calied delibera- 
tive subjunctive clause, as it is to understand how a delibera- 
tive subjunctive can develop from a subjunctive with volitive 
force. Either is possible ; and I suppose also Brugmann would 
admit Hale's explanation as possible. He simply claims, in 
the note quoted by Hale from his Greek grammar, that the 
comparative grammarian must, or should, or can posit a 
category which would well be called the deliberative sub- 
junctive. Its origin he leaves unsettled. 

As a German grammarian I do not have any need of all 
the categories of the comparative student. The facts with 
which I have to deal lead me to think that in German the 
subjunctive, in a very general way, can be divided into two 
categories, one containing, as its general characteristic, a 
volitional element ; this I call the Optative Subjunctive. The 
other group of subjunctives seems to correspond to a more 
purely intellectual factor in speech, being expressive of some 
sort of doubt, or intellectual uncertainty. This I call the 
Potential Subjunctive. And when I look at Hale's categories 
of the optative and the Idg. subjunctive, some under the 
optative and some under the subjunctive seem naturally to 
fall under my optative and the rest under my potential. The 
same is true of Brugmann's divisions. For this reason I 
made bold to state that fundamentally these two eminent 
scholars seem to agree. If they prefer to differ, I am sure, a 
German grammarian can well afford to let them. 

University of Michigan. T. DIEKHOPP. 



180 



A HISTORY OF ENGLISH RELATIVE CONSTRUC- 
TIONS 

(Continued) 

We turn now to the study of this construction as found in 
these glosses. In "monigo witgo and soSfaesto gewillnadon 
geseaSailcogeseas" (Matth. 13.17) "multi prophetae et iusti 
cupierunt uidere quae nidetis" "Many prophets and right- 
eous men have desired to see the same things you see, ' ' we have 
a clear case. A mere glance at the Latin shows at once that 
the glossarist has made an idiomatic English rendering. The 
modern English translation is exactly like it. In the original 
the words ' ' Sa ilco ' ' are written over the Latin word ' ' quae. ' ' 
The glossarist has not made the slightest attempt to give the 
English word corresponding to the Latin, but he has ren- 
dered the thought by giving a free translation. Likewise in 
"alle maehtiga Saem gelefes" (Mark 9.23) "omnia possibilia 
credenti " "all things are possible to him that believes." The 
antecedent in both of these cases is a pronominal form, but 
it is often a noun, a construction which was carefully avoided 
in the literary language of the South : ' ' and saegdon him Sa 
uundra dyde se haelend" (John 11.46) "et dixerunt eis quae 
fecit iesus" "they told him the wonders Jesus did." "Saeg- 
cas iohanne Sa Sing gie gesego" (Luke 7.22) "nuntiate iohan- 
ni quae uidistis" "tell John the things you have seen." The 
omitted pronoun in all the preceding cases but one is in the 
accusative, but this construction is just as common in the 
nominative relation: "ongann him cuoeSa da Singo woeren 
him toweardo" (Mark 10.32) "coepit illis dicere quae essent 
ei euentura" "he began to tell them the things that would 
happen to him." The glossarist is often very desirous of 
rendering the meaning of the original and gives two or three 
renderings connecting them by the Latin word "vel": "and 
alle yfle haefdon vel mishaebbende vel unhale [gehaelde] " 
(Matth. 8.16) "et omnes male habentes curauit" "and healed 
all that were sick. ' ' The first of the renderings ' ' yfle hsef don ' ' 
is an asyndetic relative clause. The glossarist here gives first 
a free English rendering and then one closer to the Latin. He 



A History of the English Relative Constructions 181 

more commonly follows first the Latin and then renders in 
freer English by the asyndetic relative construction : ' ' geuur- 
non him tuoege haebbende vel hcefdon diobles" (Matth. 8.28) 
"occurrerunt ei duo habentes daemonia" "there met him two 
who were possessed with devils. ' ' 

Any one who will study carefully the many double and 
triple renderings in these glosses will see how conscientious- 
ly the glossarist has endeavored to be true to both the Latin 
and his native tongue. It may be true that glosses in gen- 
eral afford little opportunity to glean knowledge of syntacti- 
cal structure, but these glosses form a noteworthy exception. 
It was difficult for an Englishman used to asyndetic structure 
in general to render faithfully the conjunctions of the highly 
hypothetical Latin. Our glossarist does not slavishly imi- 
tate the original but often takes great pains to render Latin 
connectives by good English expressions that clearly indi- 
cate the meaning: "wiS vel ofr5 Sa hwil geendad sie" (Luke 
12.50) "usque dum perficiatur" "up to the moment that it 
is accomplished," literally "up to that moment, [it] is ac- 
complished." Altho he has here endeavored to render the 
Latin clearly by a paraphrase he has not hesitated to employ 
the asyndetic construction, for this is a common construc- 
tion in his English. He has not employed after "hwil" the 
so-called relative particle "$e" found in the literary language 
of the South. In his language there is no absolute need of 
any particle that would create the impression of a relative, 
for the demonstrative "Sa" points to the following asyndetic 
relative clause. Similarly in "embihta me Sa hwile ic eto" 
(Luke 17.8) "Ministra mihi donee manducem" "serve me 
while I eat," literally "the while I eat." The socalled par- 
ticle "8e" is used in the corresponding passage in the Corpus 
MS., which is written in the literary language of the South: 
"Jena me ]?a hwile J?e ic eta." Time and again our glossarist 
avoids the Latin present participle and replaces it by an asyn- 
detic relative clause: "tuoege biSon getimbras" (Luke 17.35) 
"duae erunt molentes" "two women will be grinding," lite- 
rally "there will be two (women) who grind." He also 
translates by the present participle after Latin fashion and 
then employs an asyndetic relative clause: "blind sum gesaett 



182 Curme 

at Saem woege giornde vel bced" (Luke 18.35) "caecus quidam 
sedebat secus viam mendicans" "a certain blind man sat by 
the wayside begging," or "who was begging." 

In spite of the fact that this language is glossed from the 
Latin which requires a formal expression for the hypotactic 
idea in relative clauses the glossarist does not hesitate to em- 
ploy asyndesis. The construction is not infrequent and cor- 
responds closely to usage in Otfrid, Wolfram, and Shakspere. 
It is of course not as common as it would be in an original 
work as the hypotactic form was ever before the glossarist 
and he usually himself employs the English relative "se$e." 
He is especially given to use the proper form of "seSe" after 
a preposition as the native English asyndetic construction, 
as in " that is the man I spoke of, ' ' with the preposition at the 
end of the relative clause did not suggest itself as an appro- 
priate rendering of the Latin with the preposition in the first 
place in the clause. In a few cases, however, as in Matth. 
26:24, he has departed from his usual custom and has em- 
ployed the fuller asyndetic construction described below, the 
one with "Se," modern "that." The simple asyndetic form, 
tho' fairly common in the Lindisfarne Ms., is not a character- 
istic of these glosses, but is found thruout the North. The 
next northern manuscript in point of age is the Rushworth 
Glosses for Mark, Luke and John, written a short time after 
the glossing of the Lindisfarne MS. It is evident that the 
author has used the older glosses, but he has nevertheless ob- 
served a certain dignified independence in syntactical struct- 
ure. The dialect represented is also northern but more to 
the South. It is quite evident that the glossarist does not em- 
ploy asyndesis as much as the author of the Lindisfarne MS. 
After a careful study of the entire early literature of the 
North the writer finds that the use of asyndesis decreases 
as we go South from Durham. It does not seem natural to 
ascribe this difference to a difference in dialect. The difference 
was one of literary tradition. Not a single dialect of the 
South is entirely free from asyndesis in early Middle Eng- 
lish. Most of the peculiar forms of the North occur also in the 
South, but the examples are often quite rare. It seems evi- 
dent that this construction was suppressed in the South as a 



A History of the English Relative Constructions 183 

form of colloquial speech unworthy of a place in the written 
language. Older tradition was here preserved. In reading 
these southern works we are everywhere reminded of the older 
literary language. As in the oldest literary usage of the 
South the employment of asyndesis, tho' carefully avoided 
after a noun antecedent is not infrequently used where the 
antecedent is a demonstrative, as the demonstrative is felt as 
corresponding in a measure to the Latin relative. If the use 
of asyndesis also after a noun antecedent were actually un- 
known in the spoken language of the South it would be impos- 
sible to account for its occasional use in the manuscripts that 
have come down to us. 

On the other hand, every work that was written near 
Durham shows the freest use of asyndesis. The next oldest 
work after the Rushworth Glosses is the northern version of 
the "Rule of St. Benet" as found in the Lansdowne MS. 378 
British Museum. The manuscript belongs to the beginning 
of the fifteenth century, but the original document was writ- 
ten much earlier, perhaps in the thirteenth century, as at- 
tested by its older phonology and its long uncontracted forms. 
It is the oldest northern Middle English work that has been 
preserved. The asyndetic structure appears in exactly the 
same types as are found in the older period: ''do J?at scho 
bidis" (p. 10, 1.6) "do what she bids," J?e sauls he havis at 
yeme" (p. 7, 11.9-10) "the souls (which) he has to guard." 
Altho asyndesis is familiar to the author of this work he does 
not use it as much as we would expect from one who lived 
near Durham, which leads us to think that he lived further to 
the South. As this document is short we cannot found safe 
conclusions upon it, but in larger works the frequency of 
asyndesis is in early Middle English a safe guide as to the 
home of the author. Asyndesis decreases as we go south from 
Durham. The slight evidence of a more southerly origin of 
' ' Rule of St. Benet ' ' as furnished by this rule is confirmed by 
the use of the personal pronoun "J?am" or "J?aim" cor- 
responding to modern English "them." The form "J?am" 
seems to the writer to be a cross between northern "J?aim" 
and midland "ham." It has the )? of the northern form and 
the am of the midland. The northern form "J?aim" is of 



184 Curme 

Danish origin while the midland "ham" is native English. 
The use of "J>am" indicates a territory where northern and 
southern speech meet. It is a good criterion by which to lo- 
cate speech forms. The use of ")>aim" points to the North, 
while the employment of "J?am" points to the southern part 
of the northern territory where it meets the midland. In this 
document both forms "J?aim" and "}>am" are frequent, indi- 
cating that the home of the author, or perhaps scribe, was 
somewhat to the north of the southern boundary of the north- 
ern territory, as the pure northern form "J?aim" is very com- 
mon, perhaps, the prevailing one. The absence of the demon- 
strative and relative form "the which" also points to a place 
south of Durham, for as we shall see later this form was very 
common at this time in the North. 

We can study asyndetic hypotaxig of the early Middle 
English period best in Durham authors. One of the earliest 
and largest works originating in this section "The Cursur 
o the World," belonging to the early part of the fourteenth 
century, affords an excellent field of study for this construc- 
tion. On account of its great length and its preservation in a 
number of manuscripts we can study this usage thoroly 
and also comparatively as the different scribes have left the 
impression of their native dialects upon their copies. On ac- 
count of the size of the document every possible type of this 
construction known appears again and again, also the pre- 
positional type that does not occur in the earlier glosses : " Jns 
balk i tald of ar" (Cotton MS. 8865) "this beam [which] I 
spoke of before. ' ' Also with the verb in the infinitive form : 
"a luuesum land at lengir in" (ib., 604) "a lovely land to 
linger in." The construction is very common here where it 
is little used today, namely where the omitted pronoun is in 
the nominative relation: "j?is es J?e loue bes neuer gan" (ib. 
82) "this is the love that will never pass away," literally 
"This is the love, [it] is never gone." This usage remained 
common thruout the Middle English and the early Modern 
English period. It still survives, but is rare: "There was a 
woman [who] called this afternoon." 

We also find the form with the pronoun in the asyndetic 
relative clause expressed as illustrated above from Hans 



A History of the English Relative Constructions 185 

Sachs and King Alfred: "i J?am ledd ]?ai luued me" (ib. 
5758) "I led those who loved me," literally "I led them, 
they loved me." In the Trinity MS., which originated further 
to the South, this line runs: "i hem led J?at loued me." The 
simple asyndetic construction is here replaced by the fuller 
form with "that," which is described at length below. This 
fuller form with ' ' that, ' ' which corresponds to the Old English 
form with "6e," was very widely used in the South as "tSe," 
later "that," corresponded in form somewhat to the Latin 
relative "qui" and seemed more like a real relative clause. 
The extensive use of the fuller asyndetic form with "that" in 
the Trinity MS. instead of the simple asyndetic type which 
stood in the original North English document shows very 
plainly that the literary language of the South was averse to 
the employment of the simple asyndetic construction. 

The English of the northern Midland under the influence 
of the North favored the simple asyndetic construction more 
than did its southern boundary. A comparison of the Middle 
English period has convinced the writer that northern lite- 
rary usage of this construction made headway thru the Mid- 
land slowly but gradually southward until it received recog- 
nition generally in the Midland and South. After Shake- 
spere's time, however, the old attitude hostile to its employ- 
ment in choice literature revived. This old hostility ought 
to be fostered only so far as the thought is impaired by its use. 
Elsewhere it ought to be encouraged by scholars who look 
deeper into the nature of language and know that simplicity 
and terseness are sources of power and beauty in speech. 

Alongside of this simple type of asyndesis there is another 
of similar construction. The demonstrative particle "ticer" 
or "8e" is placed after the pronominal or substantive ante- 
cedent as a sort of a hand pointing to the following asyndetic 
relative clause: "Him was bam samod / on 5am leodscipe 
lond gecynde / . . . oftrum swidor, / . . . J?am Saer selra wees" 
("Beowulf," 2196-9) "The land belonged to these two among 
all the people, to one of them rather more, the one who was 
nobler," or literally "that one there, [he] was nobler," The 
"5aer" is not absolutely necessary, it might be omitted. It 
represents, however, a desire to be a little more definite. It 



186 Curme 

is a clumsy first step toward a closer grammatical relation be- 
tween the two propositions. As we shall see below there will 
be many clumsy movements before a highly developed hypo- 
taxis is reached. The use of this adverbial particle is not 
common in English where as here the omitted pronoun in the 
asyndetic relative clause is in the subject or object relation, 
while in German the corresponding adverb "dar" is here 
widely employed. Where, however, the omitted pronoun may 
be construed as the object of a preposition with the idea of 
place "&er" is common also in English : "Hwearf )?a bi bence 
Ipcer hyre byre waeron" ("Beowulf," 1188) "She turned then 
to the bench on which or where her boys sat," literally "to 
the bench there, her boys were [on it]." 

On the other hand, the particle "Se" tho unknown in 
German is widely used in oldest English. It seems to have the 
same meaning as "Saer," namely the force of the adverb 
"there": "monig oft gecwseS, / Ipcette (= }>(Et 8e) .... o)?er 
naenig / under swegles begong selra naere" ("Beowulf" 857- 
60) "Many a one said that no one under the expanse of the 
heavens was better, ' ' literally ' ' Many a one said that there : 
no one was better." The function of "Se" is to point to a 
following clause. As can be seen by this example the clause 
is not of necessity a relative clause and hence it is evident 
that "Se" is not a relative pronoun. Here "t5e" points to a 
following object clause. It is also used in various kinds of 
adverbial clauses: "J?a sceap him fyligeaS forj?am }>e hig 
gecnawaS his stefne" (John 10.4, Corpus MS.) "The sheep 
follow him, for they know his voice," literally "for that 
there: they know his voice." It is also used in adjective 
clauses, where it stands after the demonstrative "se" or a 
noun pointing to a following asyndetic relative clause: "Saer 
gelyfan sceal / dryhtnes dome sefte hine deaS nimeS ("Beo- 
wulf," 441) "There to God's judgment must bow the one 
death seizes, ' ' or literally ' ' that one there, death seizes him. ' ' 
"Swa bift eae J?am treowum J?e him gecynde biS up heah to 
standanne" (King Alfred's "Boethius," Sedgefield's ed. p. 
57, 11.20-1 "So is it also with the trees to which it is natural 
to stand up straight, ' ' or literally " So it is also with the trees 
there, [it] is natural for them to stand up straight." "Cume 



A History of the English Relative Constructions 187 

to me sefte hine )?yrste" (John 7.37, Corpus MS.) "Let that 
one who may thirst come to me," literally "Let come to me 
that one there, he may thirst." Those who call "Se" a rela- 
tive particle must have studied the grammatical relations very 
superficially. In these sentences "Se" cannot be a pronoun 
used as subject or object of the verb in the relative clause. 
In the sentence from "Beowulf" "deaS" is subject and 
"hine" is object. In the second and third sentences the con- 
struction in the asyndetic relative clause is impersonal with 
no subject expressed. The only objects are the indirect object 
"him" in the second sentence and the direct object "hine" in 
third sentence. The form "Se" is evidently not a pronoun 
here at all, but an adverb as indicated by the literal transla- 
tions given above. This construction is also freely used in 
prepositional expressions where the preposition stands near 
the end, while in real relative clauses it introduces the clause : 
"Jret bed }>e se lama on laeg" (Mark 2.4. Corpus MS.) "the 
bed the palsied man lay on." "Hwaet is sefie he hyt big 
segS" (ib. John 13.24 "Who is the one he speaks of?", liter- 
ally, "who is that one there, he says it of?" The Lindis- 
farne glossarist in both of these passages has employed the 
real relative and has placed the prepositions before the rela- 
tive pronoun as in the Latin : "]?aet ber on Saem se eord-cryppel 
Iseg" "grauatum in quo paraliticus iacebat" (Mark) ; "hwaelc 
is of Saem cuaeS" "quis est de quo dicit" (John). The 
glossarist evidently felt that "Se" is not a relative pronoun 
and in order to approach the Latin model more closely than 
by the use of "Se" rendered here and also uniformly else- 
where the prepositional phrase by the relative pronoun ' ' seSe ' ' 
or "se" preceded by the preposition. This uniform procedure 
is not at all confined to the Lindisfarne Glosses or to prepo- 
sitional phrases. Everywhere in all parts of England the 
glossarists avoided carefully the use of "Se" after a noun 
where the Latin employs a relative pronoun. They usually 
employ "se" or "seSe" where the "se" of each form has the 
case demanded by the verb of the relative clause and is thus. 
a real relative pronoun : ' ' eadig wer Saem ne geteleS dryhten 
synne" (Vespasian Psalter, 31.2) "Blessed is the man unto 
whom the Lord imputeth not iniquity. " " Beatus vir cui non 



188 Curme 

imputabit Dominus peccatum. ' ' The writer regards this uni- 
form usage of the glossarists as an absolute proof that they did 
not regard the "5e" after a noun as a relative for the usual 
form found here in original English writings is "5e. " Also 
in the West Saxon Gospels in the Corpus MS. quoted above we 
find almost uniformly "8e" altho the work is a translation. 
The language is characterized by idiomatic structure and 
great simplicity as if it were the intention of the unknown 
author to bring his words close to the thought and feeling of 
the common people. The glossarists, on the other hand, must 
have had some good reason for departing thus from common 
usage. This reason lay in the nature of "t5e." The con- 
struction with "5e" is asyndetic just as the simpler form 
without the "6e," which has been discussed at length above. 
Thus it did not seem to the glossarist adapted to a close for- 
mal rendering of the hypotactic Latin. The asyndetic con- 
struction with" "Se" was more common in the more natural 
literary language of original works than the relative type be- 
cause it was felt as a more natural expression and at the same 
time resembled the Latin construction somewhat in that the 
"6e" like "qui" stood between the two propositions. Some- 
times the asyndetic form with "6e" is given as a second ren- 
dering by the glossarist of the Lindisfarne MS., who had as 
we have seen above a fine feeling for his native language and 
often thus put a more natural expression after the one that 
was in a mere formal sense nearer the Latin: "Wae Ssem men 
derh ftone vel fte dorh hine sunu monnes gesald bi6 (Matth. 
26.24) "Woe unto that man by whom the Son of man is be- 
trayed" "Uae homini illi per quern filius hominis traditus." 

The asyndetic construction with "Se" was undoubtedly 
idiomatic English, but it is difficult for us today to determine 
how common it was in plain colloquial speech in comparison 
with the simpler type without "Se." The only test known 
to the writer is early northern English as in "The Cursur o 
the world, ' ' which makes upon us the impression of great sim- 
plicity and was probably not very far "from colloquial speech. 
The ordinary relative here is "that." This is the Middle 
English form corresponding to Old English " 8e. " The other 
relative construction, the simple asyndetic construction with- 



A History of the English Relative Constructions 189 

out "that," tho common is not as frequent as the form with 
"that" 

It looks to the superficial observer as if the simple asyn- 
detic type were the usual relative construction with "that" 
omitted. To the student who has studied the history of the 
language the construction with "that" and the form ivithout 
"that" are distinct types, the modern representatives of the 
Old English simple asyndetic form and the fuller more defi- 
nite type with "5e." There is nothing whatever in the lan- 
guage to indicate that the form with "Se" is older and that 
the simpler type is a careless sloven form of it with "5e" 
omitted. The "Se" is not even found in the closely related 
German, while the simpler type is common to both languages. 
The few data that we have indicate rather the greater age of 
the simpler form. The simple type was perhaps originally the 
normal form, while the fuller form with "Se" was employed 
occasionally to make some particular reference more definite. 
In course of time it was felt as a better formal expression of 
hypotaxis and under Latin influence extended its boundaries 
at the expense of the simpler type, while in German the com- 
monest relative construction, the one with "der," is a devel- 
opment of the older simple type. 

The common conception that "that" is a relative pronoun 
will be quickly dispelled upon a close study of its use. In 
"Therynne wonej? a wyjt ]>at wrong is his name" ("Piers 
Plowman," C. 11.59) it is quite evident that "J>at" is not a 
relative pronoun. A literal translation brings out the true 
relation: "Therein lives a fellow, that one, Wrong is his 
name." The "J?at" corresponds exactly to older "Se" and is 
evidently a demonstrative pointing to the following asyndetic 
relative clause as in Old English : ' ' ^Elmaer hi becyrde Cant- 
waraburh tie se arce-biscop ^Elfeah ser generede his life" 
(Saxon Chronicle for the year 1011) "Canterbury was be- 
trayed to them by Aelmaer whose life Archbishop Aelfeah had 
rescued," literally "Aelmaer, that one there, Archbishop 
Aelfeah rescued his life." In "until the day that Noe en- 
tered into the Ark" (Luke 17.27, King James version) the 
form "that" cannot possibly be a relative pronoun. The 
passage runs in the Corpus MS., our oldest English version : 



190 Curme 

"06 J?aene daeg J?e noe on erke eode. " Corresponding to the 
"that" of King James version is "8e" in the Corpus MS. 
The literal meaning as nearly as we can get at it is: "until 
that day there, Noe went into the Ark. ' ' The force is evident- 
ly demonstrative. The writer believes this meaning still 
dwells in "that." In "the man that I spoke of" the "that" 
is still a demonstrative, but in "the man of whom I spoke" 
the form "whom" is a relative. We cannot place a preposi- 
tion before "that" because "that" points to a following 
asyndetic clause as a whole and has nothing to do with a pre- 
position or any other single word in the clause. Of course, a 
preposition can stand before a "that" which is not a relative, 
but a demonstrative pointing to a following asyndetic relative 
clause: "I am possess 'd of that (= modern "that which" or 
"what") is mine" (Shakespere's "Titus A.," I, 408). We also 
hear: "the man whom (often who in careless language) I 
spoke of. ' ' Here ' ' who, ' ' which is usually a relative, has fol- 
lowed the old asyndetic construction of "that," but "that" 
never stands as a relative after a preposition after the ex- 
ample of ' ' whom, ' ' for ' ; that ' ' is not yet felt as a relative pro- 
noun. Our feeling that it is a demonstrative is deeper than 
our school training which has taught us that it is a relative. 
In spite of this lingering feeling for the original meaning 
of "that," it has been drawn into relations to the real rela- 
tives "which" and "who" and after their example is now 
sometimes employed as a real relative. "That book that I 
bought yesterday is very interesting." The second "that" 
here does not stand at the end of the principal proposition 
pointing to a following asyndetic relative clause, but it is a 
relative pronoun, the correlative to the demonstrative "that." 
The pointing in this sentence is performed by the strongly 
stressed demonstrative. This is a new hypotactic type not 
found in Old English. It originated in early Middle English 
as will be explained below. 

Altho the older asyndetic construction after "Se" in its 
modern representative "that" has been preserved, the asyn- 
detic construction after "Saer" is no longer used. There was 
a tendency here in early Middle English to use ' ' war ' ' where 
instead of "]?ar" there and thus employ a real relative con- 



A History of the English Relative Constructions 191 

struction : ' ' ear hii come ride anon to J?e tealdes dore / war 
ine was J?e caisere" (Layamon's "Brut," 26336-7, second ver- 
sion about A. D. 1250) "ere they came riding to the door of 
the tent in which the emperor was. ' ' In the first version writ- 
ten about fifty years earlier the wording is : " J?ar inne wis ]?e 
kaisere. ' ' The first version is asyndetic, the second hypotactic. 
The original meaning was : ' ' ere they came riding to the door, 
there, within was the emperor." The "J>ar" and the adverb 
"inne" became intimately associated and gradually came to- 
gether, "J?arinne" and later in the hypotactic form "war- 
inne," still later "wherein." In our own period the adverb- 
ial form was replaced by "in which." The change from dem- 
onstrative "J?ar" to relative "war" was closely related to the 
use of the kindred forms "who" and "which" as relatives. 
The use of ' ' where ' ' instead of ' 4 there ' ' resulted from the use 
of "where" and "which" in a general relative sense: "Heo 
mijte speke hwar heo wolde" (Nicholas de Guilford's "The 
Owl and the Nightingale" 1. 1727, about A. D. 1246-50) 
' ' She might speak wherever she would. ' ' This use of ' ' hwar" 
in a general sense is found in Old English in the form "swa 
hwar swa." In early Middle English "war" as also "which" 
gradually acquired also definite meaning and relative force 
with reference to a definite antecedent as in the example from 
"Brut." This development of meaning from the general to 
the definite is explained in detail below in connection with the 
development of "which." Where there was no noun ante- 
cedent the relative force was indicated by doubling ' ' there ' ' : 
"And min J>en bi6 Ipcer ^cer ic eom" (John 12.26, Corpus MS.) 
' ' And my servant will be there where I am. ' ' Thus this deve- 
lopment belongs to the Old English period. The two 
"there's" were of course originally two demonstratives as de- 
scribed above in the case of the double pronominal forms which 
developed into the well-known correlative relative type. Later 
the second "there" was felt as a relative and still later was 
replaced by "where," which was felt as a clearer relative 
form. Instead of this double form we now use more com- 
monly a single "where": "He now stands where I stood yes- 
terday." This type is not new but was in use in Oldest Eng- 
lish. Formerly, however, it had general meaning. Later it 



192 Curme 

gradually developed also the power of definite reference. We 
now differentiate the form to keep distinct the general and 
the definite idea. Simple "where" denotes the definite idea 
and "wherever" the general meaning. The new forms in all 
these cases did not at once supplant the older ones. They 
long existed side by side. 

Although Old English "se" and "sefte" were originally 
demonstratives they had already in this oldest period devel- 
oped into real relatives as shown by the fact that they took the 
case required by the verb of the relative clause : ' ' Wa J?am 
menn J?urh J?one J?e by]? mannes sunu belaewed" (Matth. 26.24, 
Corpus MS.) ""Woe unto that man by whom the Son of Man 
is betrayed." Here "j?one J?e" must be a relative pronoun as 
it is in the case required by the construction of the subordinate 
clause. The Lindisfarne glossarist uses the simple relative 
"Sone" in the same passage. Both forms were used without 
an essential difference of meaning. In the North the double 
form was much more common than the single one, and perhaps 
this had something to do with the later north English double 
form "the which" where the South employed simple "which." 

In oldest English any case form of "se5e" or "se" could 
be used, but in early Middle English the construction disap- 
peared entirely except in the genitive and after prepositions, 
where this relative construction survived but with the pro- 
nouns in the external form of the indefinite "who" (genitive 
"whas," "quas," dative "wham," "warn," "quam," etc.) : 
"Belyn and Brenne / of warn we beo]? of-spronge" (Laya- 
mon's "Brut," 1.26417, 2nd version, about A. D. 1250) "Belyn 
and Brenne from whom we have sprung." Why does the re- 
lative assume here the form of the indefinite "who"? The 
old relative "se" had lost its inflection and there was an es- 
pecial need felt for inflection in the genitive and after prepo- 
sitions. The uninflected "se" borrowed the forms of the 
closely related inflected "who." The indefinite "who" had 
already in oldest English the meaning of a general relative any 
one who, whoever in the form of "swa hwa swa," which ap- 
pears in Middle English as "wha sam," "who so," "who 
that," etc. or often simple "who," "qua," etc.: "Qua trous 
in me, or man or wijf, / J?of J?ai was ded yeit sal J?ai lijf" 



A History of the English Relative Constructions 193 

("Cursur," 14265-7) "Whoever believes in me, be he man or 
woman, even tho he were dead yet shall he live." As we 
shall see below in connection with the development of ' ' which ' ' 
a general meaning easily goes over into a particular one with 
definite reference. Thus the meaning of the general relative 
could often assume almost the same force as the definite rela- 
tive "se" or "seSe. " Moreover, the forms were similar: 
' ' Saes, " ' ' hwaes ; " " Sam, " ' ' hwaem. ' ' The interchange of the 
initial consonant was very natural. We see the influence of 
the form also between personal and relative pronouns, as in 
"Rule of St. Benet," p. 19, 1. 27, where we find the relative 
"whaim" after the analogy of the personal pronoun "J>aim." 
Here the vowels have been conformed. Above attention has 
been directed to the mingling of northern "J?aim" and mid- 
land "ham" in the form "J?am" found on the border of the 
North and Midland. It is difficult here to say whether 
"whose" and "whom" are the definite relatives "Saes" and 
"J?a3m" influenced by the form of the general relatives 
"hwses" and "hwaem," or whether the old relatives "Saes" 
and "Saem" have been supplanted by the general relatives 
"hwaes" and "hwaem." The former theory seems to the 
writer more probable for early Middle English, because the 
nominative "who" did not become established as a definite 
relative until the sixteenth century. If "who" were felt as 
a definite relative it surely would have been used also in the 
nominative as subject and also in the accusative as the object 
of a verb. Another indication that "whom" is the modified 
form of the old relative ' ' 5aem ' ' is that it in early Middle Eng- 
lish refers to things as well as persons : "his flesc and his blod, 
durh hwan ich ilieue," etc. ("Virtues and Vices," p. 21, 
1.8, about A. D. 1200.) "his flesh and blood thru which I be- 
lieve"; Sessere hali mihte wi5-uten hwam non mai Men wit5- 
healden" (ib. p. 47, 1.29) "This holy virtue without which 
none may be restrained. ' ' This usage with reference to things 
is occasionally found later, but it gradually disappeared entire- 
ly, for the general relative ' ' who, ' ' which only refers to persons 
gradually supplanted the old relative and brought its original 
meaning with it, i. e. reference only to persons. Also the use 
of "that" after the dative "hwaem" seems to indicate that the 



194 Curme 

relative is a modified form of older "5aem 8e," for "that" 
is the Middle English representative of older " Se " : "to god, 
of whaim that al \>e gude cumis" ("Rule of St. Benet," 
northern version, p. 19, 11. 26-7) "to God from whom all the 
good comes." On the other hand, it is possible that this 
"that" may also indicate that the pronoun here is the old 
general relative, for it also often has "that" after it. In 
this document, however, the general relative has "sam" or 
"sua" after it, not "that." 

It is interesting to see how slowly the new relative "who" 
won its way into the subject and object relation. The reason 
is evident. It was widely used in these relations as a general 
relative with the meaning "whoever" and was not really 
needed in these relations as a definite relative, for "which" 
and ' ' the which ' ' were widely employed here with reference to 
both persons and things, and the asyndetic relative construc- 
tion with "that" was still more widely used, being the common- 
est relative form here. In Chaucer the form "whom" is em- 
ployed a few times in the object relation after verbs. In the 
next century this new usage began to gain a good footing. 
Early in the sixteenth century nominative forms began to ap- 
pear. The oldest example found by the writer is on a brass 
in the Worlingham church dated 1511: "Nicholas Wrenne 
gent and Mary his wife who dyed a'o M 1 V c xj." Previous to 
this date the usual form on these brasses is "which" or "the 
' ' whiche. ' ' After this date ' ' who ' ' soon became very common 
here. Mr. Louis Round Wilson in his "Chaucer's Relative 
Constructions," p. 17 gives us a still older example of the use 
of "who," which he found on p. 57 of A. W. Pollard's "Fif- 
teenth Century Prose and Verse": "the monk who was not 
so courteous " (" Robin Hood Ballad, ' ' printed in 1510) . Kel- 
ler in his Historical Outlines of English Syntax, p. 208 quotes 
still older examples from the literature of the tenth and 
twelfth centuries: "A hwam inai he luue treweliche hwa ne 
luues his brother?" ("Old English Homilies of the 12th and 
13th Centuries," I. 274) "Ah! whom can he love who does 
not love his brother?" The writer does not think that these 
early examples or the later ones quoted by other scholars be- 
long here at all, for the relative has in all these cases general 



A History of the English Relative Constructions 195 

indefinite force. The usual word-order here is hwa he. The 
general indefinite force is not at all changed when the order 
becomes he hwa. We find this order also in German, of 
course also with general force, for German has never devel- 
oped definite meaning here: "er kerte ie gein der freise, / 
swer jenen her da zuo zin reit" (Wolfram's "Parzival" 492, 
6-7) "He has always turned back out of fear who heretofore 
has ridden against them." The word-order here with the an- 
tecedent before the relative indicates a step toward true rela- 
tive quality, but in German the complete development never 
came and in English it was attained only after the lapse of 
centuries. Something, however, of its old meaning even then 
clung to it it still referred only to persons. As a result of 
this long and at last successful struggle of "who" for a place 
in each grammatical relation ' ' which ' ' lost considerable of its 
territory. With reference to persons it was gradually sup- 
planted by "who," and thus the development resulted in a 
useful differentiation. The older general meaning of "who" 
attached to the collateral forms "whoso," "whoever," so 
that the loss of the form "who" in this general meaning was 
not felt. The very common use of "who," however, in early 
Middle English in this general sense rendered the development 
of the definite sense very slow. 

We now turn to the origin and development of "which" 
and "the which." These forms can be traced back to oldest 
English. The development started in Anglo-Saxon "swa 
hwylc swa" whoever. The simple form "hwylc" is an in- 
definite adjective and pronoun with the meaning any, any one, 
some, some one. The use of the demonstrative adverbs "swa 
swa" in connection with "hwylc" gave the expression gen- 
eral and indefinite force, any one who, that one who, whoever : 
"swa hwylc swa secS his sawle gedon hale se hig forspilj?" 
(Luke 17.33 Corpus) "That one who shall seek to save his 
life (that one) shall lose it." The form "swa hwylc swa" is 
subject and the general relative clause in which it stands does 
not limit any definite antecedent such as the demonstrative 
"se" here, but "se" simply takes up the subject again. This 
is the original form. As the meaning is general there can be 
no reference to a definite antecedent. In the course of the 



196 Cur me, 

development the meaning took on definite force with reference 
to a particular individual, and the relative clause, instead of 
preceding as in the original type followed a noun to fix the 
identity of the individual represented by the noun or add some 
fact concerning him. This change of meaning from a general 
conception to a particular reference must have been made 
more easy by the use of "se8e" with the general meaning he 
that, whoever: "Se5e gelyfS on me, he wyrcS Sa wearc 8e ic 
wyrce" (John 14.12, Corpus) "He that believes on me (he) 
will do the works that I do." The relative "se$e," which 
usually follows an antecedent, and thus refers to a definite in- 
dividual, here stands at the beginning of the sentence just as 
the general relative "sa hwylc swa" and like it has a general 
meaning. Thus the same form has a general and a particular 
meaning. Similarly the general relative "swa hwylc swa" 
passed from the head of the sentence to a position after a 
definite antecedent and took on definite meaning, for after the 
analogy of "seSe" it could have both general and definite 
force. As the meaning of ' ' swa hwylc swa ' ' and ' ' seSe " or " se ' ' 
was identical it was only natural that there should arise a ming- 
ling or perhaps a fusion of their forms so that the form ' ' seSe 
swa hwylc" arose : "se5e suahuelc soecaS sauel his hal gewyrca 
spilleS hia" (Luke 17.33 Lindisfarne MS.) "He who seeks 
to save his soul will lose it." Just as the two relative types 
"se" and "8e" were fused into "sette" so the two types 
"seSe" and "swa hwylc swa" were fused into "seSe sua 
huelc." This glossarist is very fond of this fused type. He 
also uses " 8e " instead of ' ' seSe ' ' in this fused form : " an of 
Saem gebundenum Sone suae huaelcne hia gegiuudon" (Mark 
15.6) "one of the prisoners, that one whom they desired." 
Here we also have a further step in the development. The 
reference is to a word that precedes, i. e. an antecedent. The 
form has become a regular relative pronoun. A glance at the 
meaning, however, will reveal that some of the old general 
meaning is left : ' ' that one whom or literally whomsoever they 
desired." As there is already here an antecedent the final 
development, i. e. the reference to an antecedent representing 
a definite individual, was natural and easy. 

The form "Sone suae huaelc" given in the last example 
would be in the nominative "se suae huaelc." This is evi- 



A History of the English Relative Constructions 197 

dently the forerunner of the form "the which," which was so 
widely used in the Middle English period. The "se" became 
later "Se," written later "the," while "suae" disappeared. 
This left the form "the huaelc" which in early Middle English 
appeared as "the quilk" in the North and "the which" fur- 
ther south. Similarly in "swa hwylc swa" both "swa's" 
disappeared. This left "hwyle," modern "which." This 
is the usual form in the South and the Midland. Similarly 
"seSe" became "SeSe. " This form existed for only a short 
time in the twelfth century. As "tte" was usually replaced a 
little later by "that" the form "5e6e" would naturally have 
been replaced by ' ' that that, ' ' but this development was an im- 
possibility because there was already a "that that" in use 
with the force of "what." Thus "SeSe" disappeared en- 
tirely. The simple relative form "se" became "Se" and was 
later replaced by "that." The Old English relative particle 
"Se" was also replaced by "that." Thus all the old definite 
relative constructions or the demonstratives used to point to a 
following asyndetic relative clause were represented by the 
one indeclinable form "that." This gave a remarkably sim- 
ple structure to the dialects. Only in the North was there 
still another trace of the old demonstrative "se" used in rela- 
tive constructions, the form "the" in "the which." The 
"the" did not develop here, into "that" as in the other cases, 
as ' ' the ' ' was preserved wherever it stood as a proclitic before 
a stressed word as in the definite article as in "the man," 
"the boy," also before comparatives where it represents the 
Old English instrumental "Sy" as in "the more the merrier," 
' ' the sooner, " " the quicker, ' ' also in ' ' the which. ' ' 

It seems strange that the plain and simple development of 
' ' the which ' ' as sketched in the preceding paragraph could be 
overlooked by scholars. The theory of the origin of "the 
which" from analogy with French "lequel" seems to be gen- 
eral. Mr. Eugen EinenkePs confident representation of "the 
which ' ' as of French origin aroused the writer 's doubts as he 
has learned to distrust the suspiciously keen faculty of this 
scholar for discovering relations of English to French. After 
comparing the oldest English translations and finding no cor- 
respondence whatever between the English translations and 



198 Curme 

the French originals the writer turned to the older periods 
with the results briefly stated above. The development is so 
simple and self-evident that a publication of the extended ma- 
terials gathered in this investigation would be an unnecessary 
waste of time and space. A mere glance at the few facts 
given above will bring conviction to every one. The ques- 
tions, however, of the original territory of this relative form 
And its subsequent spread, also its peculiar use and develop- 
ment of meaning deserve some consideration. 

The form undoubtedly arose in and around Durham. In 
its oldest form ' ' seSe suae hwaslc ' ' it can best be studied in the 
Lindisfarne Glosses and the "Durham Ritual." It is very 
sparingly used in the Rushworth Glosses as this work origin- 
ated further to the South. The later northern form "the 
quilk" can be studied minutely as it is found everywhere in 
the rich literature that sprang up in and around Durham. It 
was at first restricted to this region. It is entirely lacking in 
the oldest English of Scotland. It is also wanting in the 
northern version of "Rule of St. Benet," which as we have 
explained above originated probably a little to the South of 
Durham. Thus it spread from Durham northward and south- 
ward. Early in the period the idea of place is very important 
in this study. Thus in "Cursur," which originated in Dur- 
ham, we often find "the quilk" in all the northern MSS., 
but in the Trinity MS., the language of which is influenced 
by a southern scribe, we find almost uniformly a "which" or 
"that" corresponding to the ")?e quilk" of the northern MSS. 
This new northern form spread at first only slowly southward 
but a little later the movement was rapid, much more rapid 
than the spread of the Durham asyndetic relative construction 
that was developing alongside of it. It is very common in 
Chaucer and still more common in official records of every 
kind. Its use seems to have been a fad that infatuated every- 
body. Its excessive use in the fourteenth century often dis- 
figures the written pages that have come down to us. It 
seems as tho the scribes were trying to fill the pages with these 
bewitching words. The first revolt against this excessive use 
was John Purvey 's revision of Wyclif's Bible. In Wyclif's 
translation the language often suffered under the influence of 



A History of the English Relative Constructions 199 

the original. Moreover, it is quite full of "the which 's. " 
John Purvey gave the language simple idiomatic English 
character and most carefully removed the "the which 's." 
Very few of them escaped his watchful eye. The writer great- 
ly admires this beautiful revision and imagines that he can see 
in the removal of this clumsy relative a fine feeling for force- 
ful simplicity and terseness that has ever appeared at critical 
points in the development of the English language. The writer 
essays below to throw some light upon this interesting pro- 
cedure of Purvey. This suggestive course of Wyclif 's revisor 
did not have any perceptible influence upon the use of this 
relative among his contemporaries or in the decades that im- 
mediately followed. In rejecting this form he undoubtedly in- 
terpreted aright the finest feeling of his time and his vision 
was prophetic. Here as so often elsewhere Chaucer was not a 
prophet. It does not seem probable to the writer that the 
excessive use of ' ' the which ' ' was founded entirely in natural 
spoken English. Its constant use in official documents seems 
to point to written English. Such frequent use in the written 
language must of course have influenced to some extent spoken 
English and the English of the best writers. Even Shakspere 
employs it. We must remember, however, that it had origin- 
ally its legitimate boundaries and this legitimate meaning long 
continued to be felt more or less distinctly. The fact that it 
originated in a section of the country that was noted for its 
terseness and simplicity of speech indicates clearly that it was 
not born of the desire to be wordy. We now desire to return 
to the early history of this form and investigate more closely 
its original force and meaning. 

The form ' ' the which ' ' is as we have seen the result of the 
fusion of Old English "sefte" or "se" and "swa hwylc swa." 
This fused form had developed the same meaning as Old 
English "see" and "se." When "se$e" and "se" disap- 
peared from the language their distinctive meaning was not 
lost to the language, as it was preserved in the North in the 
fused form "the which." In the South the situation was 
much the same. The relative forms "se6e" and "se" and 
"swa hwylc swa" were used with the same force and mean- 
ing. When "seSe" and "se" disappeared their distinctive 



200 Curme 

meaning was preserved by "swa hwylc swa," later "which." 
As both the fused form "se suae hwaelc" and the unmixed type 
"swa hwyle swa" were very much less used than "se6e" or 
"se" this distinctive meaning came very near being lost to 
the language immediately after the disappearance of "seSe" 
and " se. " As our present relative ' ' which ' ' is the historical 
continuation of the meaning contained in "seSe" and "se" it 
is quite important to investigate carefully the characteristic 
force and function of these Old English forms. 

In oldest English the most common relative construction 
is the fuller asyndetic type with "Se." In the simplest Eng- 
lish of this period there was little need of another relative 
form. Only for particular purposes were the other forms 
' ' seSe ' ' and " se " employed. The forms ' ' seSe ' ' and " se " were 
used in determinative clauses to determine or describe more ac- 
curately the individual or individuals in question. Its use de- 
notes a conscious attempt to be a little more definite: "faertS 
donne micel folc to and yrnaS ealle endemes, SaSe Mora aern- 
inge trewaS" (King Alfred's "Boethius," p. 112, 11.23-4, 
Sedgefield's ed.) "Then many people appear and all those race 
for the prize who have confidence in their running powers," 
literally "all run, those there, [they] have confidence in their 
running powers." The difference here between older and 
modern English is fairly brought out by the two English trans- 
lations of this sentence. The first and free translation shows 
how English has been transformed under the strict laws of 
modern hypotaxis. Every part of the sentence is bound se- 
curely together into one whole. The literal translation and 
the Old English original show the older asyndetic structure. 
The sentence falls into a number of parts not connected by any 
formal link. At the beginning it is stated that many are there 
and that all run. Then a restriction comes in the words 
"Sa$e" those there. Then comes a clause defining more defi- 
nitely the individuals. One feature of the modern free trans- 
lation deserves special attention, the word "those" pointing 
forward to the following relative clause introduced by ' ' who. ' ' 
The correlative words "those" and "who" bind the parts of 
the sentence firmly together. One word is in the principal 
proposition, the other in the subordinate clause. In the Old 



A History of the English Relative Constructions 201 

English sentence there are no correlatives, no formal ties that 
bind the parts together. In "Eart Jm se Beowulf se)?e wifl 
Brecan wunne" ("Beowulf," 506) "Are you that Beowulf who 
strove with Breca?", it looks as if "se se5e" were correla- 
tives after modern usage, but it is more probable that the 
second form "se]?e" is only the repetition of the "se" so 
commonly found in Old English, so that the literal translation 
would be: "Are you the Beowulf, that one there, [he] strove 
with Breca." This conception is sometimes clearly marked 
by the case form: "Drihten ys on his halgan temple, se 
Drihten se Saes setl ys on heofenum" (King Alfred's Psalms, 
10.4) "In the temple is the Lord, that one, his seat is in the 
heavens. ' ' Both " se 's " are evidently in the principal propo- 
sition and the construction is asyndetic. In the course of Old 
English "sefte" and "se" developed into real relative pro- 
nouns as shown by the fact that they take the case required 
by the verb of the subordinate clause. However, even where 
the case shows that the construction is a relative clause the 
structure of the sentence is still that of the older asyndetic- 
type. It remained for a later period to develop a clear hy- 
potactical form. In the early Middle English period when in- 
flection disappeared there remained in most of these relative 
clauses nothing whatever to indicate hypotaxis. The form 
and structure were that of the original asyndetic type. It 
should also be remembered that in the Old English period the 
real relative construction was largely found in literature that 
was influenced by classical models and that the old asyndetic 
type was still alive in colloquial speech. This is seen by the 
extensive use of the asyndetic type in the dialects of the early 
Middle English period. In the North "the which," which had 
taken the place of older "seSe," was still found in the asyn- 
detic type: "how god bigan ]?e law hym gyfe / J>e quilk the 
luus in suld life" ("Cursur," 145-6) "how God began to 
give him those laws that the Jews should live by," literally 
"the law, that one, the Jews live by [it]." The fact that the 
preposition "in" does not introduce the subordinate clause 
but stands near the end indicates clearly that the type is the 
asyndetic. The formal characteristic of this type is here 
much clearer than in Old English. The form "J?e" before 



202 Curme 

"law" is the definite article. There is a distinct form "]?at," 
pi. "J>aa" or "}?o" for the demonstrative force. In Old Eng- 
lish the one word "se" stands for the definite article or the 
demonstrative. It is quite probable that the word "se" before 
"Beowulf" in the passage from "Beowulf" quoted above is 
the article. This sentence from "Cursur" throws a bright 
light upon the Old English at this point. The article before 
the noun was not emphatic. There was also no emphasis upon 
the repeated demonstrative "se$e" in Old English and "the 
which" in Middle English. The scansion of the line from 
"Beowulf" indicates weak accent for these words: eart )m 
se Beowulf se]?e wi8 Brecan wunne. Also in the asyndetic 
type in modern English there is usually no emphasis upon 
either the article before the noun antecedent nor upon the 
repeated demonstrative : ' ' Give me the book, the one you hold 
in your hand." Today we use "the one" here instead of 
older "the which," but the character of the construction has 
not changed. The situation was entirely changed when the 
form before the noun antecedent became stressed: "And Ipdt 
man sal forblisced be / J?e quilk him sclanders noght for me" 
("Cursur," 13109-9) "That man shaU be blessed who for 
my sake does not disgrace himself." The spirit of the old 
asyndetic construction is here entirely shattered. The "J?e 
quilk" is no longer a demonstrative standing at the end of the 
principal proposition pointing to the following asyndetic re- 
lative clause. The pointing is done by the strongly stressed 
demonstrative "J?at." The form "J?e quilk" has become in 
spite of its heavy form, which once had a meaning, now only a 
mere formal connective, a relative pronoun, the correlative to 
' ' ]?at. ' ' This is a new type, unknown in Old English. It was 
at this time not frequent but it was an important step in the 
direction of hypotaxis. As "J?e quilk" was here only a mere 
connective its heavy form was quite an unnecessary burden to 
the sentence and its simplification to "quilk" or "which" 
was only a question of time. As this new hypotactic type had 
not yet become really common in Middle English it seems 
quite probable that the asyndetic type with "seSe" and "se" 
as found in Old English was still thriving in early Middle 
English in the form of the construction with ' ' the which ' ' and 



A History of the English Relative Constructions 203 

simple "which." Both of these forms were still demonstra- 
tives as were both "se5e" and "se" in the older period. The 
evidence is very clear : " Al Albanakes f olc / f olden iscohten / 
buton while ]>at ]?er atwond" (Layamon's "Brut," 2165-6) 
' ' All Albanac 's men sought the ground except those that there 
escaped thru the wood." "Sho sal take wilke of her sistirs 
sam sho wille" ("Rule of St. Benet," p. 37, 1. 7) "She shall 
take that one of her sisters whom she may desire. " "Of hir 
war born god childer tuai, / J?e mikel lam J?at is to sai, / ]>e 
quilk king Herod did to sla." ("Cursur," 12699)3701) "Of 
her two good children were born, James the greater, that is 
(to say) that one, King Herod caused [him] to be slain." 
"Whilke ere beste to the I cane noghte say, but I hope J?e 
whilke J?ou felis maste sauour in it is beste for the" (Rich- 
ard Rolle de Hampole, p. 36, died 1349) "Which are best 
for thee I cannot say, but I trust that one or the one thou hast 
the most pleasure in is the best for thee." As "J?e quilk" 
and "J?e whilke" in the last two sentences are demonstratives 
the construction must be the simple asyndetic type. In each 
of these two sentences "]?e quilk" points to the following 
asyndetic relative clause. 

As it is in the nature of the awkward primitive asyndetic 
construction to be free with demonstratives and use more than 
one so as to be explicit there was often in the older period 
another demonstrative after the regular one: "Eadig is sua- 
hwaelc se e ne biS geondspurnad on mec" (Luke 7.23, Lindis- 
farne MS.) "Blessed is that one, that one, [he] is not tempted 
to evil thru me. ' ' Instead of the ' ' seSe ' ' found here we later 
find "that": "wit therf bred and letus wild, / J?e quilk }>at 
groues on the feild" ("Cursur," 6078-80) "with unleavened 
bread and the wild salad that grows in the fields." "Wilke 
that incomes wemles" ("Metrical English Psalter," 14.2, about 
A. D. 1300 ) ' ' that one that enters spotless. ' ' The ' ' that ' ' here 
after "wilke" corresponds closely to the Old English "sefte" 
as found in the Lindisfarne Glosses. Likewise "who that" 
corresponds closely to the "sua hua set5e" found in these same 
glosses. As this usage was well rooted in English before the 
period of French influence it seems scarcely necessary to de- 
fend its idiomatic quality against Mr. Einenkel's claim of 
influence from French "que." 



204 Curme 

This use of ' ' that ' ' after ' ' the which ' ' or simple ' ' which ' ' 
was doubtless facilitated by the earlier form of the construc- 
tion, Old English "swa hwylc swa." There was thus a demon- 
strative form after "hwylc." In the various Middle English 
dialects it appears as "sam," "sum," "se," "so," "that," 
etc. The demonstrative after "which" and "who" was very 
tenacious in this period. After the analogy of this construc- 
tion "that" is often placed after the related conjunction 
"quen" or "when": "Quen Ipat herods herd )?erof sai, / ful 
wrath he wex" ("Cursur," 11538-9) "When Herod heard 
of it he waxed wrathful, ' ' literally, ' ' at that time that Herod 
heard." This is facilitated by the analogy of "for that" 
(Old English "forSaem Se") because, "though that" (Old 
English "J?eah Be"), "after that," "before that," "while 
that," etc. Originally "while" was a noun and the "that" 
corresponds to Old English "Se": "J?ena me J?a hwile }>e ic 
ete" (Luke 17, 18, Corpus) "Serve me the while that I eat." 
This type of conjunctions with "that" was in early Middle 
English still productive. As the analogical formations "till 
that" and "if that" were already established in so early a 
book as "Ornmlum" (about A. D. 1200) with its plain, sim- 
ple language free from Norman French words and as the 
analogy with the correct old forms "while that," etc. is per- 
fectly natural it seems scarcely necessary to defend the Eng- 
lish quality of the language here against Mr. Einenkel 's claim 
of influence from French "que." That French conjunctions, 
such as "in case that," "because that" (= French "a cause 
que"), were borrowed almost as they were found in the ori- 
ginal does not at all indicate that the English conjunctions 
of this formation were modeled after the French. It is a 
thoroly English type. The incorporation of these French 
conjunctions was easy because they conformed closely to the 
English type. The development in the two languages at this 
point was the same. Later the "that" in most of these con- 
junctions dropped out as the originally demonstrative force 
was no longer felt. GEORGE O. CURME. 

Northwestern University. 

(To be continued.) 



Peculiarities of Verb-Position in Grimmelshausen 205 



PECULIARITIES OF VERB-POSITION IN GRIMMELS- 
HAUSEN 

Grimmelshausen lived in an important period in the de- 
velopment of New High German. The value of a study of the 
position of the verb in a prose work of this date is obvious. 
The " Simplicianische Schriften" are an example of narra- 
tive prose written in a very simple straightforward style. 
Peculiarities of verb-position are, therefore, all the more sig- 
nificant. The results given in this article are based upon a care- 
ful examination of the works of Grimmelshausen as contained 
in the three volumes of the "Deutsche National-Litteratur, " 
edited by Felix Bobertag. 

The possible verb-positions are four : 

Type I. Verb in the second position. 

Type II. Verb in the first position. 

Type III. Verb in the final position. 

Type IV. Verb in the "middle" position. 
By ' ' middle ' ' l position is meant any deviation from Types I 
or III. A careful study of Types I and II in Grimmelshausen 
reveals only minor differences. 

Turning our attention to Type III. At the present day 
this is the regular order for dependent clauses, but may not 
be used for independent clauses, except when the sentence 
consists only of subject and bare predicate. Two peculiari- 
ties occur in Grimmelshausen. (1) The verb in the final 
position after denn. Denn is today a coordinate conjunction, 
and does not affect the order of a clause. In Grimmelshausen 
I have found twenty-two cases where denn is followed by the 
dependent verb-position, including in this number two cases 
where the verb is omitted altogether, since it would natur- 
ally be dropped only when the author considered it to be at 
the end. 

1 For this term, cf. W. Braune, Zur Lehre von der deutschen Wort- 
stellung. In Forsch z. d. Philologie. 1894. pp. 34 ff. A. Schultze. Die 
Stellung des Verbs bei Martin Opitz, Diss. Halle a. d. S. 1903. 



206 Lovell 

Ex. : Heiligen ohn gottliche Verhangnus, . . . mehrers habe 
ich nicht verstanden, dann seine Naherung ein solch Grau- 
sen und Schrocken in mir erregte, dass ich dess Amts mei- 
ner Sinne beraubet ward. . . 

(2) Clauses expressing a proportion are now usually intro- 
duced by je desto; je um so (um desto) ; or rarely, 

je je. The verb in the principal proposition is normally 
in the second position, i. e. immediately after the introduc- 
tory particle. In Gr. we find five cases where the verb is in 
the final position in both the subordinate clause and the prin- 
ciple proposition, thus accentuating the parallelism. 2 

Ex. : " Je mehr ich nun schnarchte, je wachtsamer sie sich 
erzeigeten, sie stiessen die Kopffe zusammen und fingen an, 
um die "Wette zu rathen, wer ich doch seyn mogte ? ' ' 
Type IV. Verb in the "Middle" Position. Our concern 
here is with dependent clauses. The verb is in the middle 
position in a dependent clause when it is anywhere in the sen- 
tence except at the end. The two most important things to 
consider in this connection are: (1) By what other sentence 
constituent or constituents is the verb removed from its final 
position, and, (2) how frequently does Gr. employ the middle 
position in the various classes of dependent clauses. It should 
be noted that there are some cases which admit of classifica- 
tion under either Type III or IV. The doubt arises in long 
sentences where several subjects (rarely), objects, verbal 
nouns or other sentence modifiers follow the main verb in- 
stead of preceding it as they should theoretically do. The 
question is always open : Is the verb to be considered at the 
end of its clause ? 

Ex.: "Ware aber alles so hart eingewurzelt, dass diese 
sammtliche Artzneyen auch night anschlagen wolten, also 
dass der Patient allbereit den Namen triige eines groben 
Esels- oder Haasenkopfs, eines Stockfisches, Bachanten, ei- 
nes Saumagens, eines Kornhammers oder gar eines Narren, 
der den Kopf so voller Wiirm, . . ." 
Similarly, such cases as the following admit really of 
either classification, depending on the point of view: "Und 
gleichwie ichs machte mit den Partheyen zu Fuss, also that 
ich ihm auch, wann ich zu Pferd draussen war." 

2 Cf. Curmv, A Grammar of the German Language, p. 618. d. 



Peculiarities of Verb-Position in Grimmelshausen 207 

In the tables and estimates which follow allowance may 
be made for this variation in individual opinion. It is obvious, 
also, that many cases of so-called " middle" position are nor- 
mal and correct at the present time, e. g. "Wenn er hatte ge- 
hen konnen. 

The verbs most commonly found in the middle position are 
the three auxiliaries, haben, sein and werden and all the modal 
auxiliaries. Where there is only one word following the 
verb (either an infinitive or past participle most commonly) 
various other verbs are found in the middle position. Taking 
up the verbal nouns first, we find the 1 verb followed by : an 
infinitive; past participle; two infinitives; three infinitives; 
past participle and infinitive; two past participles. 

Secondly, the verb may stand between verbal nouns. Here 
are exampled: Past participle, verb, infinitive; past parti- 
ciple, verb, past participle; infinitive, verb, infinitive. Com- 
pare in this connection the position of the verb in the follow- 
ing examples with reference to the prefix. (This is rare in 
Gr. ; cf. also Schultze op. cit. 108) 

"Wann ich aber wegen iiblen Wetters in Waldern und 

Feldern nicht herum konte schwermen. ' ' 

"dieselbe brachte ich dem Obristen und erhielt da- 

durch nicht allein einen Thaler zur Verehrung, sondern 

auch Erlaubniiss, dass ich hinaus dorffte gehen, den Hasen 

nachzustellen, wann ich die "Wacht nicht hatte. ' ' 
More rarely, the verb is followed by other sentence-constitu- 
tents: Noun, as object; noun, as subject. One example: 
"wie sagt dann Gott zum Job, dass sich erfreueten alle Kin- 
der Gottes, da doch bey den Verdammten kein Lob Gottes 
1st?" 

For an example of another modifier compare the follow- 
ing: "du verurtheilest und horest keine Parthey, also dass 
du uns todest ohn Urtheil und begrdbest uns ohn Sterben!" 8 

(2) In the table given below are found the numbers and 
percentages of the various classes of dependent clauses for 
both final and middle position. Side by side with these are 

* The few rimed couplets which are found in Gr. show very free order 
with respect to the position of the verb in dependent clauses. Cf. 
Schultze, op. cit., passim. 



208 



Lovell 



given the figures for the works of Opitz (both prose and 
poetry) as compiled by Schultze, for the same kinds of clauses, 
so far as the two classifications coincide. Obviously the per- 
centages only are of value in comparing Gr. and 0., for the 
works studied varied both in amount and style. The differ- 
ence between poetry and prose in 0. is very significant. Note 
especially that in conditional and concessive clauses in poetry 
more verbs were in the middle position than in the final. Of 
course allowance must be made for some difference of opinion 
in classifying certain doubtful cases, but the total results ob- 
tained must give us a fair ratio. 





Grimmelshausen 
S. Vol. I Percent. 


Opitz 
Prose Percent. 


Opitz 
Poetry Percent. 


C T3 T3 TJ 
W S W S 


B 13 "O T3 

w w 


13 T3 ~O TJ 
W W 


Relative 


1768 


6'2 


96 


4 


461 


57 


89 


11 


|389 


274 


59 


41 


Temporal 


769 


14 


98 


2 


47 


15 


75 


25 


110 


84 


56 


44 


Dass 


1253 


62 


95 


5 


149 


25| 85| 15 


107 


88 


55 


45 


Concessive 


139 


5 


96 


4 


45 


6 


88 


12 


20 


21 


49 


51 


Conditional 


293 


22 


93 


7 


71 


9 


88 


12 


37 


38 


49 


51 


Causal 


780 


12 


98 


2 


51 


4 


93 


7 


52 


40 


56 


44 


Comparative 


394 


26 


93 


7 


93 


9 


91 


9 


49 

"28 


32 


60 


40 
41 


Indirect Quest 


414 


17 


98 


2 


17 


5 


77 


23 


19 


59 


Spatial 


97 





100 





Not given 










Purpose 


117 


3 


97 


3 


F 


rot give 
T3of87 


n 










Totals 


6024 


223 


96 


4 


934 


13 


792 


596 


57 


43 



Yale University. 



GEORGE B. LOVELL. 



The Gautland Cycle of Sagas 209 



II. EVIDENCES OP THE CYCLE 

The ancestor of the Vatsdoela race is Ketill raumr (Hauks- 
bok, prymr) 1 who is said to live on the estate er i Raumsdal 
heitir, J?at er norSarliga 2 i Noregi. He, in turn, is ' ' the son 
of Orm skeljamoli, the son of Hrossbjorn, the son of Raum, 
the son of Jotunb jorn, from the north of Norway "... which 
agrees with the information of Landndma 3 and Orkneyin- 
gasaga* Ketill allies himself to the Hrafnistumenn by mar- 
rying Mjoll the daughter of An bogsveigir, begetting with 
her porsteinn, as we are also told at the end of the Anssaga* 

1 Cf. Vigfusson, ed. p. xviii. -}- emendations, Orig. I eel. II, 276. 
1 As to this use of nortSarliga, cf. Munch, Kongeriget Norge i Mid- 
delalderen, p. 15 note. 

3 Fornsogur, p. 185. 

4 Rer. Brit. Med. Aevii Script, vol. 88, chap. 1. 

8 The occurrence in Hversu Noregr bygfiiz of a similar genealogy 
suggests that this whole pedigree is an etiological fiction pure and simple: 
(Fas. ii, chap. I) Raumr son N6rs konungs tok riki eftir feSr sinn; hann 
atti Alfheima, ok sva vitt riki sem ar paer falla er }>ar spretta upp; 
paSan fellr Logrinn austan um dal i Mjors, enn pa?5an Verma i Raumelfi, 
enn hon til sj6var; af Verma fellr Rauma ofan eftir Raumsdal; af 
Verma fellr Eystri-Elfr um Eystri-Dali ok i Vaeni, enn patSan Gautelfr 
til sjofar. 

Excepting the bad mistake of letting the Eystri (dais) Elfr (now, 
Glommen) flow into the Vener Lake, the geography is clear enough. 
According to it, Raum's kingdom embraces, besides Alfheimar (about 
the present Elfsborglan), the regions about the upper as well as the 
lower courses of the Gb'taelf, the Glommen, and the (Gudbrandsdals) 
Lougen; or, roughly, the central portions of the Southern Scandinavian 
peninsula. Against this hold Ranisch, Gautrekssaga, p. Lxxiif. 

ibid.: Raumr Konungr atti samdrykkju um jol vi8 Bergfinn son 
pryms jotuns af Verma, ok gekk }>a i rekkju Bergdisar systur bans etc. 
(cf. the name prym with the reading of Hauksb6k, (1) above; and note 
that the formation in dis runs in the race of the Gautic earls in Vts.) 

Jotunbjorn hinn gamli (one of the sons of above) var fatSir Raums 
konungs, foSur Hrossbjarnar, fotSur Orms skeljamola, foSur Knattar, 
fotSur peira porolfs halma ok Ketils raums. Among the descendents of 
p6rolf occur the names Helgi and Ingimund. 



210 Hollander 

Now we are informed that the robber (s) rendering the 
country adjoining the Eaumsdal insecure are on the way 
"that lies between Jamtland and Raumsdal." A glance at 
the map is sufficient to show how hazy were the writer's no- 
tions of Norwegian geography. A direct road from the Roms- 
dal * to Jemtland (some 250 kilometers as the crow flies) did 
not, and does not, exist, because of the Dovre fjall and the 
Kjolen rising between. Practically all travel proceeded by 
way of the natural depression in the Kjolen between the 
Throndhjemsf jord and Jemtland. 

Barely a page below, it is said concerning the same robber- 
infested locality, and in flat contradiction to the information 
given above, that "a great forest lies between Raumsdal and 
Upplond, over which leads the highroad." The Swedish dis- 
trict of Upplond (north of Maelaren) is, of course, out of 
question. Bearing on the Norwegian Upplond (the region 
around lake Mj0sen), the information is incorrect, no great 
forest lying on the road to the Gudbrandsdal. 2 

There are two great forest regions between Sweden and 
Norway that have functioned, both as effective frontier pro- 
tection, and as traditional haunts of outlaws the Jemt- 
landskog West of the Throndhjemsf jord ; and the Eidskog 
between the (former) Upplond and Viken, and the inhabited 
parts to the East in Sweden. It is hard to see why that stray- 
ing member of the Gautic princely race should travel so far 
north as the Jemtlandskog, as basis for his operations, when 
the Eidskog lay so much more conveniently at hand. 3 

But how can porsteinn from Romsdal ride away, alone, 
without a fixed plan in his mind, and without much ado hit 
upon the robber's house, in such far-away and interminable 
forests as the Jemtlandskog or Eidskog just as quickly to 
return home, when either journey would have required weeks, 
in those times ? 

1 1. e. the one specified as nortSarliga i Noregi. 

*If taken literally, this forest would be the Uppdalsskog, surround- 
ing the upper reaches of the Driva. Through it lay the road from 
Throndhjem to the Gudbrandsdal. (Finnur J6nsson, Lit. hist, note II, 
477, lapses here, also!) 

* Landnama vaguely has a skoginum till Upplonda. 



The Gautland Cycle of Sagas 211 

And why should porsteinn and his followers ride to and 
fro, on his journey to Gautland, in fulfilling the last wish of 
Jokull, when the long journey from Raumsdal norSarliga i 
Noregi could be far more expeditiously accomplished by sea? 

The explanation lies near at hand. Whether designedly 
or no, the writer of this episode confused the Romsdal (be- 
tween Nordm0re and S0ndm0re) with the district in Upplb'nd 
still called Romerike, 1 which indeed adjoined the Eidskog. 2 
If designedly, in order to bring the Norwegian hersir family 
more naturally in contact with the illustrious rulers of Gaut- 
land, as it had already allied itself with the greatest race in 
Halogaland. However, since we have absolutely no further in- 
formation on this point it would be foolhardy to venture even 
a hypothesis. Suffice that the descendents of Ingemund in 
the Vatsdal evidently believed themselves sprung from a 
Romsdal hersir family on the father's, from a Gautic princess 
on the mother's side. 3 

It is important to note that also in the Hrolfssaga, the 
porsteinnssaga and, for that matter, also in the Gjafarefssaga 
and the Fridlpjofssaga, the scene is laid in the localities of the 
first chapters of the Vts. with the same resulting difficulties. 

In the first chapter of Hr., king Gautrek is returning 
home (to Gautland), accompanied by his bride and a company 
of men, from the seat of porir hersi in Sogn 4 when surprised 
by his unsuccessful rival Olaf, er J?eir riftu fram hja skogi 
nokkurum. 

In )?v., porsteinn is the son of Viking whose father orig- 
inally came from Helgeland, and of Hunvor, daughter of 

'The district traversed by the Raumelf, as the lower course of the 
Glommen anciently was called. Cf. Rygh, Norske Elvenavne, p. 186. 

2 Raumarike included the present Romerike together with Sol0r and 
6dalen. (Munch, 1. c. p. 7.) The latter districts are separated by the 
Eidskog from (the originally Gautic colony of) Vermland. 

'Vigfusson observes (Orig. Il. II, 280) that the traces of Frey 
worship in the Ingemunds J>attr as well as the prevalence of the Ingwi- 
element in the family names "point to the family being connected with 
Eastern rather than Western Scandinavia, with Gautland rather than 
the West coast of Norway." This amounts to proving the obvious, inter- 
marriage with the Gautic race being plainly stated. 

*Note that Sygnir and Raumsdoelir regard each other as samlendir 
menn (Vts. p. 15.) 



212 Hollander 

Hring, fylkiskonungr i Sviaveldi. Viking settles in Upplond 
as earl under king Njorfi. After the encounter on the ice of 
the Veneren, his sons, porsteinn and porir go abroad, and por- 
steinn finally settles (much like his father) in Sogn, as earl 
and son in law of king Beli. Frid)?j6f (porsteinsson) then re- 
sumes relations between Hringarike (part of Upplond) 1 and 
Sogn. He, again, like his father (and porsteinn Ketilsson) 
prefers to return to his own possessions after the demise of 
the old king and the coming of age of his ward. 

According to the Gautrekssaga, the heros eponymos of 
the race has a child with the daughter of a refugee bonde in 
the great forest between Gautland and Upplond (i. e. the 
Eidskog). The latter land is ruled by jarl Neri (NereiSr, 
NeriSr). 2 

Enough has been adduced already to necessitate the as- 
sumption of a Gautic cycle of sagas comprising those above 
mentioned. 

For the relation of this saga to Hr. cf. my article in a forthcoming 
number of Arkiv f. n. Fil. 

This hypothesis was made already by Ranisch (xlvii), 3 in 
order to account for the contents of Hr. and the Gautreks- 
saga. "Interesse daran, einen Fiirsten aus gautischem Ge- 
schlecht zum Besieger des ganzen Nordens zu machen, (non- 
historically, of course) konnten nur gautische Manner selbst 
haben oder islandische Familien, die ihren Stammbaum auf 
gautische Auswanderer zuriickf iihrten. ' ' But his attempt to 
identify the names of Hr. with those in the circle of Helgi 
hinn magri, the only prominent landnamamaftr descended on 
the male side from a Gautic race, fails to convince because of 
the paucity of namesakes. 4 

If, however, we compare the names in Hr. with the circle 
of the Vatsdo?lamenn the agreements will be found decidedly 

1 To be sure, in the older FritSJ) j of ssaga Hring is king fyrir Svijj j 68. 

2 Is there any relation between him and Njorfi, king of Upplond 
ace. to the porsteinssaga? 

'Die Gautrekssaga in zwei Fa#sungen. Palaestra XI. 1900. 

4 What concerns R.'s reference to Hrosskell, his settlement on the 
SkagafjorS is at a considerable distance, with high mountain ranges 
between, from the EyafjorS where Helgi has his seat. Landn. 203, 14; 
Orettiss. ch. viii. 



213 

more striking. To be sure the latter race can boast descent 
from the fabled Gautic rulers only on the spindle side; but 
so much weight is laid on this ancestry, especially in the nam- 
ing of Jokull, (passing by Ketill I) 1 that this objection has not 
much force. 

It must be borne in mind, in any such comparison, that 
it would be vain to look for correspondences of such names as 
that of Hrolf himself, of the kings Eirik of Sweden, Hring 
of Denmark, 6laf of Scotland, Ella of England, HalfSan of 
GarSarike, Hrolf of Ireland, princess Margaret of Scotland. 
These are names historically or traditionally firmly associated 
with the respective countries. Far more significant it is to 
find lesser characters in Vts. commemorated in Hr., especially 
in similar roles or analogous positions. Among the remaining 
(ca. 25) names of the Hr. there are, to be sure, a number of 
stereotype Fas. saga names ; 2 yet it is noteworthy that precise- 
ly some of the less conspicuous ones have analogous functions 
in Vte. 

The name of Ketill (the hero's brother) was very likely 
suggested by that of Ketill raum. porir hersi i Sogn (Hrolf 's 
maternal grandfather) bears the same name as the third son 
or Ingimund. As to porir Ingimundsson, he may owe his 
name to one porir "a very rich man" and friend of Inge- 
mund 3 (see below), porbjorg (wife of Hrolf) is the nafni 
of porbjorg SkiSadottir i ViSidal (close by Waterdale), at 
whose marriage broke out the famous feud between Berg and 
Finnbogi, on the one hand, and the Ingimundssons on the 
other. 2 porSr (the wealthy yeoman whose daughter Hrolf 
rescues by his holmgang against the berserk) is to be com- 
pared with one HofSa pordr (Vts. 33), a man friendly to the 
Ingimundssons who aids Uni against the evil Hrolleif who in- 
tends to dishonor Uni 's daughter, the same Hrolleif who, later, 

1 Ingemund (porsteinsson),like Eirikr, son of king Hrolf (above, p. 
77) had been named eptir m6durfetSir sinum, either because the latter was 
recently deceased, or because Ketill, his paternal grandfather, was still 
alive. Cf. G. Ctorm, Arkiv f. N., Fil. 1893, p. 199. 

2 Such as Alof, IngigerS, Claf (the suitor), SigurS, Grim, etc. 

3 porir (pegjandi, jarl of Moere) is the name of the father of 
Ingemund's wife. 

4 Vts. p. 52. 



214 Hollander 

becomes the mortal enemy of the Ingemundssons. Asmund 
(the fosterbrother of Hrolf ) is the nafni of one Asmund men- 
tioned, in Landndma and Melabok as a friend, in Vts. as a 
slave, of Ingemund on his journey to Iceland. Ingjald (son 
of king Hring, and close friend of Hrolf and Ketil) bears 
the name of Ingjald, bondi hraustr, neighbor and best friend 
of porsteinn Ketilsson. He and the latter like Hrolf and 
Ingjald in their younger days are associated in viking 
cruises. Later on, Ingjald bondi fosters Ingemund porsteins- 
son, just as Hring fosters Hrolf. (N. B. Landndma gives the 
fosterfather the name of porir; cf. Vigfusson xx). 

Of persons of the second (resp. third) rank, 1 BarSr (one 
of the men of King Ella, (p. 116, who is, at first, opposed 
to letting the lion on Hrolf) is a namesake of a man in Vts. 
(p. 78) who helps the brothers prottolf and Folf by some 
counter magic. As to HrossJ?jof (the oldest of Half dan's 
berserks) and especially his father Hrosskell (the honored 
friend of Hrolf 's father), we find their correspondence in 
Hrossbjorn, 2 ancestor of Ketill raum. It is likewise worthy 
of note, in connection with the Gautrekssaga, that among the 
noble Norwegians emigrating with Ingimund there is one 
Refkell (Vts. 24) or Refskegg, as Landndma and Melabok 
have it ; and that one of Ingimunds bosom friends (who make 
away with themselves at the news of Ingimund 's murder) 
is called Gautr and dwells in the Gautsdal (IceL). 

Even though one or the other of above comparisons may 
seem forced, there remain at most but four or five names 
which are not accounted for. Either, then, the author of Hr. 
had a pitifully small store of names (cf. the two Ingibjorgs, 
the two 61afs, the two Hrolf s) in which case the agreements 
are an astonishing coincidence; or he deliberately chose from 
the circle of the Vatsdaelamenn. 

If the latter alternative be accepted, it would seem neces- 
sary to postulate at least a general acquaintance of the author 
of Hr. with the history of the ruling family of the Vatsdal. 

1 Cf. Heinzel, Beschreibung der isldndischen Saga, p. 116 f. 

'There is also one Bjorn mentioned in Vts. (p. 69). The name of 
porkell krafla's (slave-) mother, Nereitir, recalls that of the parsimon- 
ious jarl in the Gautrekssaga. 



* 
The Gautland Cycle of Sagas 215 

Evidences of this have been pointed out above, in the killing 
of Jokull, the throwing of the billet, the characters of the un- 
like brothers, the same faulty geography. There is one more 
episode in Hr. which may have been suggested by Vts. 

In the battle against king Half dan of GarSarike, (Hr. 
chap. 27,) that wing of the brothers' army ever retreats with 
bloody loss which is attacked by porir Jarnskjold who, himself 
is steadily shifting his position in order to avoid Hrolf. Ketill 
becomes exasperated. Ferr til motz viS Hrolf konung, broSir 
sinn. Undarligt ]?icki mer, segir hann, er J?u raeSir eigi af 
meinvaetti pess ^ena 1 , er os gerir sva mikinn skaSa ok mundum 
ver fyrir longu hafa sigr haft, ef petta trollmenni hefSi eigi 
oss i moti gengit. Hofum ver ok eigi fyrr fundit at en nu, 
at \>\\ (hafir ei verit hugaSr vel, et5a eigi jafnan J?ar framgengit, 
sem mest raun hefir at verit, titan nu i dag; brestr J?er araeSi 
viS penna spellvirkja, syniz oss sva, sem hvarr forSiz annann. 
Nu meS |?vi at J?er viliS ei fyrirkoma pessum manni, ef sva 
skal kalla hann, ]?a faiS mer i hendr sverSi Risanaut ok vita, 
hvart mer bilar araedi viS hann, ef ek komumz i fgeri. 
Hrolf, after reproving his brother, turns to battle with in- 
creased ardor and finally succeeds in wounding porir who yet 
manages to escape. 

The somewhat disguised parallel in Vts. is as follows. 
After many a failure, the Ingimundssons at last bring porgrim 
skinnhufa and Mar to bay. 2 Tokst siSan bardagi, ok er hann 
hafSi gengit um hri8, maelti Jokull: eigi haeli ek bitinu hans 
^Ettartanga. porsteinn svarar: slik daemi eru meS oss, ok 
verSr nu varum monnum skeinisamt. - Jokull maelti: 
ertu nu heillum horfinn, ^Ettartangi, eSr hvat? porsteinn 
svarar: ok sva synist mer sem J?eir standa upp, er ek hefir 
hoggit, eSr sjai }?er nokkut porgrim? peir k\ T 66ust eigi hann 
sja. porsteinn baS Jokull J?a vikja fra orrostunni ok vita 
hvart J?eir saei hann eigi, - . The brothers discover and 
dislodge the sorcerer, thus undoing the charm, he flees pre- 
cipitately, and Jokull hews off his buttocks. 

1 Note that Ketill only insinuates that p6rir is a sorcerer. Most of 
the sagas being written by clerics, magic was counted as an eviJ in- 
fluence, prejudicing one against the one exercising it. 

8 Vts. p. 48. 



216 Hollander 

In both cases, magic interferes, or seems to interfere, with 
the usual effectiveness of a famous sword. The brothers take 
counsel and the enemy is put to flight and wounded. 

Finally, another significant parallel., When porsteinn 
(Ketilsson) dies full of days he says: Uni ek J?vi bezt viS sefi 
mina at ek hefr verit eingi agangsmaSr vi8 menn, er ok likast 
at meS )?eim slitni sefi min, J?viat ek kennir nu sottar. Then 
we are told that Ingimund promises to walk in his father's 
footsteps. He inherits all family possessions. With this, 
compare the final words about king Hrolf : VinguSuz af J?vi 
vi5 hann margir, at ]?eir vaentu ser J?ar af friftar ok frelsis ok 

goSvilja af Hrolfi konungi, heldr en agangs eSa 6fri6ar, 

Var$ Hrolfr konungr gamall maSr ok drap hann sott til 
bana. Tok Eirikr, son hans, konungdom eptir hann met5 6'llu 
J?vi riki, er att haffti faSir hans. VarS Eirikr gamall maSr 
ok inn vaskasti ok fraegasti konungr ok at morgu likr Hrolfi 
konungi, feftr sinum. 

To expect more numerous agreements* is, from the nature 
of the case, not justifiable. The historical part of Vts. is, in 
the main, a rather lean and straightforward narrative from 
with few interesting episodes are to be culled for furbishing 
up a Fornaldarsaga. 

There exists a difference of opinion concerning the age of 
Vts. Mogk assigns it to the beginning of the 13th century. As 
to the chronology of the Fas., Hr. and J?v. in particular 
least said soonest mended ! The oldest membrane of Hr. dates 
from ca. 1300. The fact that ]?v. has come down to us only in 
versions of the 15th cent, by no means precludes an earlier 
existence, possibly in a shorter form. Such a one may well 
have existed before 1300. Nothing in this view contradicts 
the generally accepted date for the older Fri8J?j6fssaga (1270- 
1400) held by Falk (Arkiv 1890, 60f.) to be the presupposi- 
tion of ]?v. 

1 Vts., F., p. 21. 

2 Hr., D., p. 77. 

*Was the curious and somewhat puzzling episode in Hr. entitled 
Drap Kerlingar suggested by the killing of the witch Lj6t, Hrolleifs 
mother? Vts. p. 43. 



The Gautland Cycle of Sagas 217 

Mogk x conjectures with much plausibility that the author 
of Vts. was a clerk of the cloister pingeyrar, situated in the im- 
mediate vicinity of the Vatsdal. The thought suggests it- 
self that some of his later brethren undertook still further to 
embellish and glorify the antecedents of the ruling race of the 
locality, one by writing down old legends concerning the 
lords of Gautland; another by freely composing the Hrolfs- 



A counterblast was then sounded from the opposite shore 
of the broad Hunafloi where the descendents of Finnbogi 
hinn rammi (banished to the Trekyllisvig) with a like local 
patriotism attempted something of the same kind in the Finn- 
bogasaga, in order to rehabilitate their ancestor's fame. 

1 Gdr. '759. 

Madison, Wis. LEE M. HOLLANDER. 



218 Northup 



ON THE BIBLIOGRAPHY OF SHAKESPEARE 

Shakespeare Bibliography: a Dictionary of Every Known 
Issue of the Writings of Our National Poet and of Recorded 
Opinion Thereon in the English Language, 1 by William Jag- 
gard. With Historical Introduction, Facsimiles, Portraits, 
and Other Illustrations. Stratford-on-Avon. At the Shake- 
speare Press. 1911. 4to, pp. xxiv, 729. 29 illustrations. 
Price, 3 guineas. 

Bibliographic. In Jahrbuch der Deutschen Shakespeare- 
Gesellschaft. Berlin. 1865-1911. 8vo. Annual volumes, 12 
marks each. 

Questions on Shakespeare. By Albert H. Tolman, Asso- 
ciate Professor of English in the University of Chicago. Chi- 
cago. The University of Chicago Press. 1910. 8vo. Part I, 
75 cents net ; Part II, $1 net. 

It is regrettable that up to the present time no well 
trained scholar or group of scholars has undertaken and pub- 
lished an adequate, comprehensive bibliography of the ever 
growing literature of Shakespeare. There have been many 
workers in the field: Mr. Jaggard includes over 150 biblio- 
graphical entries, and many of the works mentioned have 
decided merit. But for the most part, their authors have 
attempted to cover only a part of the ground (e. g. in com- 
piling catalogues of special collections, or lists on special 
subjects), or have attempted larger tasks for which they were 
not well fitted. Certainly if there is any one great author of 
whom we need a full analytical bibliography, it is Shakespeare. 
Year after year Shakespearean scholars and critics have gone 
on repeating themselves or others, ignorant of much that their 
predecessors have said, each writer playing the game in his 

1 Reviews and comments on this volume have already appeared in 
The Athenaeum, May 20- June 3, 1911, pp. 569 (Frank Pacy,), 600 (reply 
by W. Jaggard;, 610, 629 (F. Pacy,); Notes and Queries llth Series 
iv. 59, July 15, 1911; The Saturday Review cxi. 782, June 24, 1911; The 
Dial li. 192-194, September 16, 1911 (A. G. Newcomer) ; The New York 
Times Saturday Review xvi. 351, June 4, 1911; The Bookman (London) 
xl. 254-255, September, 1911 (Darrell Figgis) ; The Times Literary Sup- 
plement May 4, 1911, p. 176. 



On the Bibliography of Shakespeare 219 

own little corner of the universe. Some of this waste, assur- 
edly, a good bibliography might have prevented. 

Now Mr. William Jaggard, bookseller, and namesake and 
descendant of the Jacobean printer, has attempted, for all 
works in English, to supply the want. His work represents 
a vast amount of labor, for which all due credit must be 
given; it has evidently been a labor of love. His book is 
well printed, on good paper, and is not inconvenient to handle. 
It contains some interesting illustrations. 

More than this, however, we fear we cannot say in praise 
of the work. In our judgment, it has some faults which 
seriously impair its usefulness, not to say its trustworthiness ; 
faults which could have been easily avoided. 

In the first place, how complete is the work? Mr. Jag- 
gard 's claim is expressed in no uncertain language in the 
title and in the preface: "It gives minute details and avail- 
able locations of every known issue of Shakespeare's writings 
(whether written, printed, separate, collective, authentic, at- 
tributed, private, public, in or out of print) ; likewise of 
every tract, pamphlet, volume, or collection of Shakespearean 
comment; of each analogue or source, with notes of the pas- 
sages affected ; of every important contemporary or subsequent 
allusion to, or article on, the dramatist or his productions; 
of each autograph, genuine or forged ; of all engraved Shake- 
speare portraits ; with market values of the rarer entries. ..." 
He might have said, with becoming modesty, that it was his 
aim to give all these things ; instead, he assures us that he has 
"reconciled aim with achievement, faith with fulfilment." 
And some of the reviewers have believed him. 

Yet it is very easy to demonstrate that Mr. Jaggard 's 
performance comes very far short of his gorgeous advertise- 
ment. For example, Modern Philology, Publications of the 
Modern Language Association of America, The Journal of 
English and Germanic Philology, and Modern Language Notes- 
are to be found in several of the great libraries of England^ 
yet Mr. Jaggard has scarcely even heard of them. The ser- 
iousness of the omission will be indicated by the list of omitted 
Shakespearean articles in the first eight volumes of Modern 
Philology: 



220 Northup 

E. E. Hale, Jr., "The Influence of Theatrical Conditions 
on Shakespeare" (i. 171-192). 

Wilhelm Creizenach, "Der bestrafte Brudermord and Its 
Relation to Shakespeare's Hamlet" (ii. 249-260). 

John T. Murray, "English Dramatic Companies in the 
Towns Outside of London, 1550-1600" (ii. 539-559). For 
Murray's book, see p. 718. 

George F. Reynolds, "Some Principles of Elizabethan 
Staging" (ii. 581-614, iii. 69-97). 

Elmer E. Stoll, "Shakspere, Marston, and the Malcon- 
tent Type" (iii. 281-303). 

Fred A. Howe, "The Authorship of The Birth of Merlin" 
(iv. 193-205). 

Aura Miller, "The Sixth Quarto of Hamlet in a New 
Light" (iv. 501-505). 

John W. Cunliffe, "The Influence of Italian on Early 
Elizabethan Drama" (iv. 597-604). 

Paul Shorey, "Shakespere and Seneca" (v. 143). 

George F. Reynolds, ' ' Trees on the Stage of Shakespeare ' ' 
(v. 153-168). 

Winifred Smith, "Italian and Elizabethan Comedy" (v. 
555-567). 

Edward B. Reed, "The College Element in Hamlet" 
(vi. 453-468). 

Albert S. Cook, "Shakespeare, Richard II ii. 1. 41ff." 
(vi. 472-475). 

Albert H. Tolman, "Alternation in the Staging of Shake- 
speare's Plays" (vi. 517-534). 

Winifred Smith, "A Comic Version of Romeo and Juli- 
ette" (vii. 217-220). 

Elmer E. Stoll, "Anachronism in Shakespeare Criticism" 
(vii. 557-575). 

E. S. Bates, "The Sincerity of Shakespeare's Sonnets" 
(viii. 87-106). 

William J. Neidig, "The Shakespeare Quartos of 1619" 
(viii. 145-163), with 13 plates. Mr. Jaggard gives this, on p. 
719, but with a wrong reference. 

E. H. C. Oliphant, "Problems of Authorship in Eliza- 
bethan Dramatic Literature" (viii. 411-459). 



On the Bibliography of Shakespeare 221 

C. R. Baskervill, "The Custom of Sitting on the Eliza- 
bethan Stage" (viii. 581-589). 

Likewise Mr. Jaggard omits such important articles as 
Professor J. Q. Adams's "Timon of Athens and the Irregu- 
larities in the First Folio" (J. E. G. Ph. vii. 53-63), which, 
as Dr. Ernest Wright remarks (The Authorship of Timon of 
Athens, New York, 1910, p. 98), seems to say the last word on 
the subject ; and Professor Thorndike 's ' ' Relations of Hamlet 
to Contemporary Revenge Plays" (Publ. Mod. Lang. Ass'n 
xvii. 125-220), one of America's most important contributions 
to Shakespeare criticism. Moreover, if he had consulted 
Leonard A. Jones's Index to Legal Periodical Literature 
(Boston, 1888), he could have added more than a dozen valu- 
able articles on Shakespeare's legal acquirements. He cer- 
tainly knew (see p. 221) of the rather primitive Digesta 
Shakespeareana issued in 1886 by the Shakespeare Society of 
New York ; yet he has not entered all the items even it contains. 
If he made any considerable use of the annual or biennial 
lists in the Shakespeare Jahrbuch, it is not shown by the tests 
I have applied; I am inclined to think that he made very 
little use of these lists. But the strangest puzzle is how 
Mr. Jaggard could fail to consult Poole's Index to Periodical 
Literature and its supplements, in which some thirty columns 
of Shakespeare items have appeared. He has apparently 
never heard of it. His knowledge of the periodical literature 
on Shakespeare seems to be limited to those articles which have 
been indexed in some collection like that in the Boston Public 
Library. He refers to dozens of periodicals by the year only 
(see, for example, under Lowell, on White's Shakespeare, 
Dyce, Dyer, Fiske, Fitzgerald, Foard, Folklore of Shake- 
speare, Hale, Snider, J. G. Waller), indifferent to the fact that 
many periodicals print more than one volume in a year. So 
far as we have observed, the best section of his work is that 
which includes the writings of Mrs. Stopes ; and there is good 
reason to believe that she furnished that part herself. 

A list of other typical omissions may be given here: 
William Archer, "The Elizabethan Stage," The Quarterly 
Rev., April, 1908, ccviii. 442-471. Ernest A. Baker, A De- 
scriptive Guide to the Best Fiction, British and American, 



222 Northup 

London, 1903. G. P. Baker, "Hamlet on an Elizabethan 
Stage," Shakes. Jahrbuch xli. 296-301. George Bartram, 
"Shakespeare's Boors," Macmillan's Magazine xci. 219-224, 
January, 1905. S. 0. Beeton, Letters by an Old Boy, Lon- 
don, 1866. R. Boyle, "Blank- Verse and Metrical Tests," 
Englische Studien xvi. 440-448. Austin Brereton, The Lit- 
erary History of the Adelphi and Its Neighborhood, London, 
1907. P. Hume Brown, "Literature and History," The 
Scottish Historical Review vi. 1-12. John Burroughs, 
"Shakespeare's Natural History," Scribner's Monthly, March, 
1881, xxi. 786-788. B. C. Burt, "Shakespeare in the Opinion 
of the Seventeenth Century," The New Englander xl. 304-327. 
E. W. Chubb, "Shakespeare's Influence upon Goethe," Trans. 
Mod. Lang. Ass'n of Ohio, 1900-2, pp. 81-94. The Cambridge 
History of English Literature, vol. v (Cambridge, 1910) 
appeared in October, 1910, possibly too late to be included. 
Lewis N. Chase, The English Heroic Play, New York, 1903. 
Mary C. Clarke, "The Soldiers of Shakespeare, "Sharpe's Mag- 
azine ix. 24,143, x. 196,349. J. Churton Collins, "Had Shake- 
speare Read the Greek Tragedies?" The Fortnightly Review, 
April-July, 1903, Ixxix. 618-637, 848-858, Ixxx. 115-131. B. A. 
P. Van Dam and C. Stoffel, Chapters on English Printing, 
Prosody, and Pronunciation, Heidelberg, 1902. C. K. Davis, 
Hamlet, Madame Roland: Lectures, St. Paul, 1882. K. Deigh- 
ton, The Old Dramatists: Conjectural Readings, 2d Series, 
Calcutta, 1898. E. Dowden, "Shakespeare," The Warner Li- 
brary of the World's Best Literature, New York, 1897. L. 
Einstein, The Italian Renaissance in England, New York, 1902. 
E. Ekwall, Shakespeare's Vocabulary, vol. i., Upsala, 1903. G. 
R. Elliott, "S. 's Significance for Browning," Anglia xxxii. 
90-162. F. Karl Elze, "Notes and Conjectural Emendations 
on Antony and Cleopatra and Pericles," Englische Studien 
ix. 267-290. H. A. Evans, "A Shakespearian Controversy 
of the Eighteenth Century," Anglia xxviii. 457-476. N. H. 
Ewing, "Shakespeare's Enigma and Cipher," The Catholic 
World, Nov., 1906. W. W. Fenn, "Shakespeare and the Art 
of Painting," The Portfolio, April, 1889. F. G. Fleay, 
"Shakespeare and Puritanism," Anglia vii. 223-231. Clara 
French, The Dramatic Action and Motive of King John, Cam- 
bridge, 1892. Edw. Fuller, "The Theatrical Renaissance of 



On the Bibliography of Shakespeare 223 

Shakespeare," Lippincott's Mag., Jan., 1890. The Gateway to 
Shakespeare for Children, London, 1908. Chas. M. Gayley, 
Plays of Our Forefathers, London, 1908. Virginia C. Gilder- 
sleeve, Government Regulations of the Elizabethan Drama, 
New York, 1908. Thomas Gray, "Letters" (Gosse No. xliv), 
"Shakespeare Verses," and "Emendations" (the last in Tov- 
ey 's Gray and His Friends, Cambridge, 1890) . Hannah Grier- 
son, "Shakespeare and the Sea," The Contemporary Review, 
Jan., 1910, xcvii. 57-66. A. Gynlai, Shakespeare in Hungary, 
London, 1898. Mrs. S. Haarwood, The Shakespeare Cult in 
Germany from the Sixteenth Century to the Present Time, 
Sidney, 1907. J. W. Hales, "London Residences of Shak- 
speare," The Athenaeum, March 26, 1904, pp. 401-402. 
John S. Hart, " Shakespeariana, " Hours at Home iii. 293- 
300. J. Hengesbach, Readings on Shakespeare, Berlin, 1901. 
C. Hildreth, "The Bacon-Shakespeare Controversy," Univ. 
Studies ii. 147-162 (1897). J. H. Ingram, Christopher Mar- 
lowe and His Associates, London, 1904. D. Jones, "The 
Pronunciation of Shakespeare," The Athenceum, June 25, 
1910, pp. 766-767. "John Lyly, Novelist and Dramatist," 
The Quarterly Review, Jan., 1896, clxxxiii. 110-138 (deals 
with Shakespeare's language). R. M. Johnston, Studies, 
Literary and Social, Indianapolis, 1891-2. Oscar Kuhns, 
Dante and the English Poets from Chaucer to Tennyson, New 
York, 1904. G. Latham, "The Petty Constable," Sh. Jb. 
xxxii. 133-48. Sidney Lee, "The Future of Shakespearean 
Research," The Nineteenth Century, May, 1906, lix. 763-778; 
"Ovid and Shakespeare's Sonnets," The Quarterly Review, 
April, 1909, ccx. 455-476; "Pepys and Shakespeare," The 
Fortnightly Review, Jan., 1906, N. S. Ixxix. 104-120; and 
' ' Shakespeare, ' ' Diet. Nat. Biog. W. S. Lilly, ' ' Shakespeare 's 
Protestantism," The Fortn. Rev., June, 1904, N. S. Ixxv. 
966-983. H. W. Mabie and others, How to Study Shakespeare, 
New York, 1907. Joseph B. Mayor, ' ' Tolstoi as a Shakespear- 
ian Critic," Trans. Royal Soc. Lit., 2d Ser. xxviii. 1. 23-55. 
Museus, arts, on S. 's summer, moon, and astronomy in 
The Contemp. Rev., July, 1910, xcvii. suppl. 34. 1-4 and 
39. 1-4, July, 1908, xciv. suppl. 10. 1-6. B. B. Orridge, The 
City Friends of Shakespeare, London, 1869. John A. Pat- 



224 Northup 

terson, "Shakespeare's Astronomy," Jour. Royal Astron. 
Soc. of Canada, Sept.-Oct, 1907. W. J. Rolfe, "Facts and 
Figures from Shakespeare," The Nation (New York) Ixxxvii. 
572-3, Dec. 10, 1908. L. Scharf, Chips from English Litera- 
ture, Aschersleben, 1881. F. E. Schelling, The Queen's Pro- 
gress, Boston, 1904. "Shakespeare's Ghosts, Witches, and 
Fairies," The Quart. Rev., July, 1890, clxxi. 91-121. L. A. 
Sherman, The Analytics of Literature, Boston, 1892. Roscoe 
A. Small, The Stage-Quarrel Between Ben Jonson and the 
So-called Poetasters, Breslau, 1899. C. Alphonso Smith, 
' ' The Chief Difference Between the First and Second Folios, ' ' 
Engl. Stud. xxx. 1-20. H. Statham, "The Morality of S." 
The Ninet. Cent. Ixiii. 209-220. William Stebbing, The 
Poets, Chaucer to Tennyson: Impressions, London, 1907. 
E. C. Stedman, The Nature of Poetry, Boston, 1892. W. W. 
Story, Excursions in Art and Letters, Edinburgh, 1891. Sir 
Edward Sullivan, "Shakespeare and the Waterways of North 
Italy," The Nineteenth Cent., Aug., 1908, Ixiv. 216-232. F. 
H. Sykes, "Syllabus of a College Course of Thirty Lectures 
on S.," Teachers Coll. Record iv. 4. 9-39. S. A. Tannenbaum, 
Was W. S. a Gentleman f New York, 1909. D. L. Thomas, 
"On the Play Pericles," Engl. Stud, xxxix. 210-39. A. H. 
Thorndike, Tragedy, London, 1908. A. H. Tolman, Questions 
on Shakespeare, Chicago, 1910. T. G. Tucker, The Foreign 
Debt of English Literature, London, 1907. A. H. Upham, 
The French Influence in English Literature, New York, 1908. 
C. E. Vaughan, Types of Tragic Drama, London, 1908. E. 
Venable, "A Speculation Regarding S.," The School Review 
xiii. 717-731. W. Victor, S.'s Pronunciation, Marburg, 1906. 
Alfred H. Wall, S.'s Face, Stratford-on-Avon, 1890. Chas. W. 
Wallace, Globe Theatre Apparel (see The Athenaeum, Dec. 18, 
1909, p. 772); "New Shakespeare Documents," Engl. Stud. 
xxxvi. 56-63; "S.'s Signature," The Nation (New York), 
Mar. 17, 1910, xc. 259-261. James Walter, S.'s True Life, 
London, 1890 [1889]. A. S. Way, "Relics of Ancient Aryan 
Folk-Lore in Shakespeare," The London Quart. Rev., Apr., 
1906. H. S. Wilson, "The Genesis of Hamlet," The Gentle- 
man's Mag., Apr., 1889. Alice J. P. Wood, The Stage History 
of S.'s King Richard the Third, New York, 1909. H. Wood, 



On the Bibliography of Shakespeare 225 

"S. Burlesqued," The Amer. Journal of Philol., Oct., 1905, 
xvi. 273-299. G. E. Woodberry, Makers of Literature, New 
York, 1900. Ernest H. Wright, The Authorship of Timon of 
Athens, New York, 1910. 

The above long list might have been greatly extended; 
for examples of further omissions see the indexes of The 
Quarterly Review, The Atlantic Monthly, The Forum, etc. 

It must also be added that very few book reviews have 
been entered. When one considers the importance of some of 
the reviews that have appeared, the omission becomes a very 
serious one. 

In the next place, the arrangement is neither clear nor 
logical. The alphabetical arrangement has been adopted, to 
so complete an extent that we find the editions of Shake- 
speare's works not at the beginning, where custom would lead 
us to look for them, but under S (pp. 280-585) ; this virtually 
bisects the main alphabet, and is very inconvenient. In view 
of this arrangement we are much surprised to find at the 
end of the list of editions (pp. 585-627) a separate alphabet 
headed by the following note: "The succeeding sub-alphabet 
deals with the poet individually, and chiefly consists of biog- 
raphy. " How consistent the editor has been in his classifi- 
cation is illustrated by the fact that whereas William Page's 
"Study of Shakespeare's Portraits" (Scribner's Monthly, 
September, 1875), dealing especially with the alleged death 
mask, is put in the sub-alphabet, John S. Hart's article on 
"The Shakespeare Death Mask" (Scribner's Monthly, July, 
1874) is put in the main alphabet. Similarly, Collier's 
Shakespeare Library, a mere reprint of some of Shakespeare's 
source-books, is in the sub-alphabet, while Anders's Shake- 
speare's Books, which deals with the education Shakespeare got 
from reading, is in the general alphabet. In the latter place, 
also, we find Foard 's ' ' On Shakespeare 's Probable Connection 
with Lancashire" (The Manchester Quarterly, not Quar- 
terly Review, April, 1896) ; Mr. Jaggard's own articles on 
Shakespeare's portraits, his grave, and his religion; Robert 
Williams 's Youth of Shakespeare; all of Mrs. Stopes's articles 
dealing with Shakespeare's family; and so on. It is of course 
desirable to bring together those books and articles that deal 



226 Northup 

with the personality of the poet ; but likewise we should have 
separate alphabets devoted to books that merely refer to 
Shakespeare (e. g. Wild's Her Boreale), or that contain only a 
line or two of appreciation or comment. Similarly, why should 
not all the matter dealing exclusively with a given play be 
brought together under the appropriate heading? If, for 
example, one wishes to know all that has been written 
specifically about Hamlet, one must now, in addition to con- 
sulting the editions mentioned on pp. 306-317, turn the leaves 
to look up each of the references in the group given on pp. 
317-318; moreover, if each article or book dealing with a 
single play were relegated to its appropriate sub-alphabet, 
the main alphabet would be so much the shorter and more 
easily scanned. 

Again, some works are wrongly entered even in the main 
alphabet. For example, Francis Peck's New Memoirs of the 
Life of Milton, which includes some notes, etc., on Shake- 
speare, is entered not under Peck but under Milton ! An arti- 
cle by a writer calling himself Monkshood ("Mingle mangle," 
p. 217) is entered under the first letter of its title! In this 
there is very little logic, and what there is, is bad. 

Some other minor points will here be noted: 

P. 35. Why are Browning's Works entered only in the 
Tauchnitz edition of 1872? "Men and Women" appeared 
in 1855. 

P. 73. Davis 's Law in Shakespeare is an octavo. 

P. 91. A fifth volume of Ellis 's Early Eng. Pronunciation 
appeared in 1890. 

P. 114. Why anglicize the first of Gervinus's names and 
not the second? 

P. 146. Ida Benecke's trans, of Heine has 189 pages. 
Several other page numbers are wrongly given. 

P. 176. Under Johnston, W. P., for Bedford read Bel- 
ford. 

P. 191. The works of Sir Sidney Lee are strangely re- 
ferred to S. L. Levi, the name which Mr. Lee formerly bore. 
To anyone who knows of the previous encounters of the two 
men, the animus of the reference is evident. In a work of 
this kind such a display of odium theologicum is as contemp- 
tible as it is amusing. 



On the Bibliography of Shakespeare 227 

P. 236. Notes and Queries is merely referred to, with 
the good advice to consult its general indexes. This is an 
easy way of avoiding hard work. On the same principle, 
why should Mr. J. print any reference that has already been 
listed in, say, the Shakespeare Jahrbuchf And why is his 
own note on ''Shakespeare's Bible" (see p. 716) so much 
more important than everything else Shakespearean in N. and 

Q.f 

P. 250. Shakespeare's Plutarch was edited by C. F. 
Tucker Brooke. 

P. 269. "The Mad Characters in the Plays of Shake- 
speare" is by G. Ross. 

P. 437. Daly's edition of the Poems, 1841, is a 64mo. 

P. 602. Under bibliography should be added a reference 
to J. Moyes; under Biblical knowledge, a reference to T. 
Carter. Also under classical knowledge (p. 610) should be 
a reference to J. C. Collins; under fairies (p. 611) should be 
references to Lyric Ode and A. Nutt; under family, a refer- 
ence to W. Black; under fools (p. 612) references to S. Davey 
and F. Douce; under mad folk (p. 615) a reference to Farren. 
The number of cross-references might have been very con- 
siderably increased. 

P. 679. It was not C. W. Wallace but A. Wallace who 
wrote on the life of Shakespeare (p. 626). 

P. 702. In Mr. Albright's book the adjective is spelled 
' ' Shaksperian. " What warrant has Mr. Jaggard for chang- 
ing this to "Shakespearean"? 

P. 715. What are Surrey's Songes, published when S. 
was only three years old (and when even Bacon was only six 
years old) doing here? On the same principle we should 
include Robinson Crusoe or The Castle of Otranto in a 
bibliography of Scott, since they heralded the dawn of the 
novel. 

P. 717, col. 2. The Introduction to Shakespeare is by 
H. N. MacCracken, F. E. Pierce, and W. H. Durham. 

Thus it will appear that Mr. Jaggard 's book is in many 
respects lamentably provincial and defective; and, however 
good may have been its compiler's intentions, quite unworthy 
of the immortal bard of Avon. Probably, however, we must 



228 Northup 

not expect to see anything better for some years to come. 
Publishers are not eager to risk capital in enterprises of 
this kind, and until bibliographical work is more fully appre- 
ciated, it is too much to hope that a band of expert biblio- 
graphers shall do the thing over and do it properly. 

It is a pleasure to turn to the bibliographies compiled for 
the Deutsche Shakespeare-Gesellschaft, which have been in 
progress for nearly half a century. For reference the fol- 
lowing list of the series is included: 

Compiled by Albert Cohn, Antiquarian and Bibliographer 2 

1864-July, 1865 Jahrbuch i. 418-447 1865 

August, 1865-October, 1866 ii. 393-405 1867 

November, 1866-February, 1868 . iii. 413-435 1868 

March, 1868-February, 1870.... v. 379-401 1870 

March, 1870-March, 1871 vi. 371-388 1871 

April, 1871-December, 1872... viii. 377-394 1873 

1873-74 x. 384-418 1875 

1875-76 xii. 325-374 1877 

1877-78 xiv. 365-394 1879 

1879-80 xvi. 431-475 1881 

1881-82 xviii. 301-330 1883 

1883-84 xx. 355-398 1885 

1885-86 xxii. 284-333 1887 

1887-88 xxiv. 213-278 1889 

1889-91 xxvii. 321-400 1892 

1892-93 xxix.-xxx. 324-364 1893 

1894-96 xxxiii. 307-406 1897 

1897-99 xxxvi. 348-440 1900 

By Richard Schroeder, Oberbibliothekar in the University 

of Kiel 

1900 xxxvii. 314-383 1901 

1901 xxxviii. 350-438 1902 

1902 xxxix. 361-436 1903 

By Gustav Becker 

1903 xl. 383-458 1904 

1904 xli. 326-392 1905 

2 See Brockhaus's Konv.-Lex., 14th ed., iv. 408, and The Athenceum, 
Sept. 9, 1905, p. 336. 



On the Bibliography of Shakespeare 221) 

By Richard Sehroeder 
1905 xlii. 347-467 1906 

1906 xliii. 383-475 1907 

By Hans Daffis, Bibliothekar in the University of Berlin 

1907 xliv. 393-450 1908 

1908 xlv. 427-475 1909 

1909 xlvi. 351-403 1910 

1910 xlvii. 372-415 1911 

The bibliographies have appeared regularly, and have been 
admirably kept up to date. The number of pages printed for 
1864-1910 aggregates 1480. Since 1900, when numbering 
was introduced, 6,025 items have been listed. 

Lack of space forbids an extended criticism of these lists. 
They are remarkably full, including book reviews and the 
briefest notes. The arrangement is by countries : I. England 
und Amerika; II. Deutschland, Oesterreich-Ungarn, Schweiz; 
III. Frankreich und Belgien; IV. Italien; V. Verschiedene 
europaeische Laender; VI. Aussereuropaeische Laender. It 
is of course interesting to see what the different countries are 
contributing to the literature of the subject; we think, how- 
ever, that this is more than offset by the disadvantage of hav- 
ing to consult several alphabets instead of only one for each 
year. Another defect is that the contents of some periodicals 
(e. g. New Shakespeareana, Jahrbuch xlv. 438-9) are listed as 
contents of the respective periodicals instead of alphabetically 
under their authors' names. This much impairs the value of 
the lists for purposes of reference. 

Notwithstanding these slight blemishes, German scholars, 
excelling in many fields, may also point with pride to this 
series. As for Shakespearean bibliography in England and 
America, after three hundred years, we now have Mr. Jag- 
gard! 

Professor Tolman has undertaken on a comparatively 
large scale to supply students and teachers with a complete 
working apparatus for the inductive study of Shakespeare. 
His work will appear in six volumes, of which Part I (Intro- 
ductory) and Part II (The First Histories, Poems, Comedies) 
are before us. With the questions themselves we are not here 
specially concerned. In so far as they are interpretative or 



230 Northup 

suggestive, they seem to be good and useful. We are not so 
sure about the questions on the text or meaning, many of 
which merely call for the explanation of single words. We 
wish, however, to commend the select general bibliography, 
which fills about half of Part I, and the special bibliographies 
appended to the questions on the individual plays and poems. 
It may be remarked that in some sections the order is neither 
alphabetical nor chronological. In general, however, these 
lists leave little to be desired. The selection is good, the 
annotations are sensible and sound, and there are full indexes. 
The student who becomes familiar with the books here men- 
tioned will be well equipped for special study. 

CLARK S. NORTHUP. 
Cornell University. 






Geffray Mynshul and Thomas Dekker 231 



GEFFRAY MYNSHUL AND THOMAS DEKKER 

In 1618 was published a little volume entitled "Essayes 
and Characters of a Prison and Prisoners. Written by G. M. 
of Grayes-Inne. Gent. ' ' 1 It had been entered on the Sta- 
tioners ' Register February 11, 1618. There is evidence that 
the book, in the earliest form in which it has come down to us, 
is a second edition, and that the first edition was more or less 
anonymous. The first of the three epistles, dated June 6, 
1618, and addressed to the Young Gentlemen of Gray's Inn, 
repeatedly refers to what seems to have been an earlier ver- 
sion : ' ' Once more I wash over the picture which was drawne 
but the Tearme going before ; " "I come now not to re-sing, 
but to re-cant the errours both of my pen and judgment;" 
"that one poore paper bullet of which I shot up and downe 
Fleetestreet. " This epistle tells us also that the author has 
announced his name : " I have now put my name to my Book, 
(without tergeversation or turne coating the letters," but it 
is signed G. M. The second epistle, addressed to the author's 
uncle, is dated nearly five months earlier, January 27, 1617 
(i. e. 1618), and speaks of the book as the writer's "first- 
borne, ' ' but, in accordance with the statement made in the first 
epistle, it is subscribed "Geffray Mynshul." Both epistles 
were written in King's Bench Prison, in South wark. 

Of Geffray Mynshul "of Grayes-Inne, Gent." nothing is 
certainly known except what may be gathered from the epistle 
"To his most loving and ever respective kind uncle, Mr. 
Mathew Mainwaring, of Namptwich, in Cheshire;" namely, 
that he was in prison for debt, and that his uncle had always 
been his "anchor" when he had previously been "ship- 
wrackt;" but it has been conjectured that he was identical 
with the ' ' Geffery Minshull ' ' mentioned as among the knights, 
esquires, gentlemen, and freeholders of the County Palatine 
of Chester, in the Hundred of Nantwich. 2 

Mynshul 's book has no table of contents and is not divided 
into chapters ; but the headings of the sections are as follows : 

1 Reprinted by Ballantyne and Co. 1821. 

8 "Notice" prefixed to the edition of 1821, p. viii. 



232 Hunt 

Of a Prison ; The Character of a Prison ; Of Prisoners ; Pris- 
oners of another Nature; The Character of a Prisoner; Of 
Creditors ; The Character of a Creditor ; Of Choice of Com- 
pany in Prison ; The Character of Companions in Prison ; Of 
Visitants in Prison; The Character of Visitants; Of Enter- 
tainment in Prison ; Of Keepers which goe abroad with Pris- 
oners; The Character of Keepers; Essayes and Characters 
of Jaylors and Keepers of Prison ; Of Mercilesse Jaylors ; Of 
the Miserable Life in Prison ; A Locker up at Nights ; A no- 
ble understanding Prisoner ; Observations of a Prison. 

Now one of Mynshul's companions in prison was Thomas 
Dekker who, according to his own testimony, lay in that ' ' cave 
of horrors" for a period of almost seven years closing in 1619 
or 1620. 3 That the Prison was the King's Bench appears from 
a letter to Edward Alleyn, written September 12, 1616. 4 Dur- 
ing the year in which that letter was written, Dekker brought 
out a fifth edition of his popular "Lanthorn and Candle- 
light" under the title: "Villanies Discovered by Lanthorne 
and Candlelight, and the helpe of a new Cryer called per 
se 0. Being an addition to the Bel-mans second night-walke : 
and laying open to the world of those abuses, which the Bel- 
man (because he went i'th darke) could not see. "With Cant- 
ing Songs, and other new conceits never before Printed. New- 
ly corrected and enlarged by the Author." 5 The address 

8 See epistles to Endymion Porter and "the Reader" prefixed to 
"Dekker, His Dream," 1620, found in Vol. iii of Grosart's "Non-dra- 
matic Works of Thomas Dekker." 

* Quoted in Collier's "Memoirs of Edward Alleyn." 

8 1 have not seen this edition ; but there is in the British Museum a 
copy of the 1612 edition, which has on the fly-leaf preceding the title- 
page, a note by the former owner, Mr. Heber, from which I make the 
following extracts: "Another edition of this book was printed for John 
Busby in 1616 intitled 'Villanies discovered by Lanthorne and candle- 
light & the help of a new cryer called o per se o,' etc. . . I find it is in- 
creased by the addition of a whole section 'Of a Prison' occupying 6 
chapters .... Ed. 1620 is an exact reprint of ed. 1616." 

I have used the edition of 1620. There is internal evidence that the 
additions made in 1616 remained unchanged, for in ch. xi, unpaged, 
Dekker speaks of his imprisonment as lasting about three years. 

The extracts from the 1620 ed. I owe to the courtesy of Dr. Carl 
Van Doren of Columbia University. 



Geffray Mynshul and Thomas Dekker 233 

"To the Reader" is altered from that of the last preceding 
edition, that of 1612, by the omission of the scornful little 
paragraph about the Beadle of Bridewell (Samuel Rowlands), 
and the addition of the following sentence : " To furnish this 
Army the better with souldiers have I opened a Prison, out of 
which what troopes issue and how practised in discipline, let 
but a drum beate to call up the reare, & thou shalt easily in 
one light skirmish know of what mettle they are. ' ' 

This promise is made good by the insertion of a new section 
entitled "Of a Prison," made up of six chapters under the 
headings : Certaine Discoveries of a Prison by way of Essayes 
and Characters, written by a Prisoner; Of Prisoners; Of 
Creditors; Of Choice of Company in Prison; Of Visitants; 
Of Jaylors. 

A comparison of Dekker 's Prison chapters with Mynshul's 
book, published two years later, reveals the fact that not only 
are the same subjects discussed under similar titles and in the 
same order, but that whole passages are identical, or nearly 
so, in thought, figure, and turn of phrase. I quote the follow- 
ing illustrations : 

DEKKER MYNSHUL 

1616 1618 

I am with dimme water col- My purpose is, with dim 
ours to line a Cart, and in it water-colours to line me out 
to lay downe the bounds of a heart, yea such a heart, so 
those tempestuous seas, in discontented and oppressed, 
which ten thousand are every that I need not be curious in 
day tossed, if not over- fitting every colour to his 
whelmed. Some doe but crosse place, or to chuse the pleas- 
over the waters and are Sea- antest chamber to draw it in, 
sicke; but not Heart-sicke. because in it I am to lay 
Such are happy : To others it downe the bounds of those 
is longer than an East-Indian tempestuous seas, In which 
voyage, and farre more dan- tenne thousands are every 
gerous. For in that, if of day tossed, if not over- 
threescore men, twenty come whelmed - 
home, it is wel. But in this, My travels hither to this in- 
if fourscore of a hundred be fernall iland hath been but a 



234 



Hunt 



not cast overboard, it is a 
wonder. 

More now than a three- 
yeeres-voyage have I made to 
these infortunate Hands: a 
long lying have I had under 
Hatches, during which time, 
my Compasse never went true. 
No Star of comfort have I 
sailed by: no Anchor to cast 
out. Top-saile, Sprit saile, 
Mizzen, Mayne - sheat, Bot- 
lings, & Drablers are all tome 
by the windes : & the Barque 
itselfe so weather-beaten, that 
I fear it shall never touch at 
the Cape Bona Speranza. 

A Fly-boat hath brooked 
that Sea in which an Argozy 
hath beene drowned: for the 
greatest courages are here 
wrack 'd: the fairest reve- 
newes do here run aground: 
the noblest wits are here con- 
founded. 

So that I may call a Prison 
an Inchanted Castle, by rea- 
son of the Rare Transforma- 
tions therein wrought: for it 
makes a wise man loose his 
wits, a foole to know himselfe. 
It turnes a rich man into a 
beggar, and leaves a poore 
man desperate. 

He whom neither Snowes 
nor Alpes can vanquish, but 
hath a heart as constant as 



short voyage, and my abode 
here as yet but a few moneths, 
but it seems longer to mee 
then an East-Indian voyage, 
and I am sure f arre more dan- 
gerous: for if from the In- 
dies of sixty men twenty 
come home safe it is well ; but 
in this, if eighty of an hun- 
dred be not cast over board it 
is a wonder. 

Being once arrived, no 
starre of comfort here can be 
seene to saeyle by, no haven of 
happiness neare, no anchor of 
hope to cast out, top-sayle, 
fore-sayle, sprit-sayle, mizen, 
maine sheate, boilings, and 
drablers are all tome by the 
windes, and the barke it selfe 
so weather beaten, that there 
is few can come neare to touch 
at the Cape of Bona Speranza. 

Being once arrived at, all 
are not onely staid, but the 
inchantments are so strong, 
that it transformeth all that 
come thither. First, the great- 
est courages are here wracked, 
the fairest revenues doe here 
come aground; it maketh a 
wise man to lose his wits a 
foole to know himselfe, it 
turnes a rich man into a beg- 
ger, and leaves a poore man 
desperate; he whom neyther 
snowes nor Alpes can van- 
quish, but hath a heart as 



Geffray Mynshul and Thomas Dekker 



235 



Hannibals, him can the mis- 
ery of a prison direct. 

It behooveth a Prisoner to 
say as Caesar did to the Py- 
lot, when he was afraid, (thou 
carriest, quoth he, Caesar) so 
every generous minde ought 
to be armed with noble resolu- 
tions, to meete all stormes of 
adversitie 



Varlets and Catch-poles ar- 
rest thee: Fret not at it: if 
the Law hath power to whet 
an Axe ; she must pick a Hang 
man to smite. The Mace that 
arresteth thee, is in a hand 

Omnipotent An 

action is brought against 
thee onely to draw thee to a 
reckoning, and make thee 
know what thou owest to Hea- 
ven, as well as to man. Thou 
art beaten with a Rod, not to 
draw bloud but teares ; not to 
drive thee into dispaire, but 
amendment. 

I verily thinke that the 
bravest spirited Prisoner in 
the wo rid, would with a cheer- 
ful looke thrust his neck into 
the yoke of Adversitie, and 
manfully dene the threats of 

Mynshul, pp. 12-14. 
T p. 18. 



constant as Hannibal, him can 
the miseries of a prison over- 
come. 6 

After stormes calmes will 
arise, and though sorrow be 
over night, yet joy will come 
in the morning; and to say 
as Caesar did to the pilot that 
carryed him when hee was 
afraid; quoth he, Thou car- 
riest Caesar. So every gen- 
erous minde ought to be 
arm'd with resolution to 
meete all stormes of adver- 

w: 1 f i > ^ _ 
OX I ' 

Varlets and catchpoles ar- 
rest thee, fret not at it, if law 
have power to whet an axe, 
she must pick out a hangman 

to strike the mace 

It [the processes of the law] 
doth but teach thee, that thy 
accounts must be brought 
against thee, to draw thee to a 
reckoning, to make thee know 
that thou owest a reckoning to 
Heaven as well as to man, and 
justice will execute her power, 
not to drive thee to dispaire, 
but to amendement. 

Further, I persuade my- 
selfe there are many prison- 
ers whose resolutions are so 
noble, that before they would 
yeeld to the threats of an in- 
sulting creditour, they would 
cheerfully thrust their neckes 



236 



Hunt 



an insulting Creditor, were 
not more veines to be cut then 
his own. But the poorest 
wretch dying in a prison, 
hath some or other lying in 
the Coffin with him: with 
thine eye-strings (whosoever 
thou art) crack at the last 
gasp the heart-strings of a 
wife, of children, of a father, 
or mother, of friends or allies. 
For these art thou bound in 
the bonds of Nature, to take 
pittie of thy selfe, and to hang 
out a flag of truce to thy 
bloudy minded Creditor & for 
Ransome to pay all, so thou 
maist march away with life 
onely. But say thou hast 
none of these respects to tye 
thee yeelding. Thou art a 
Traytor to thy Countrey, if 
thou givest up thy selfe into 
thy enemies hands, when upon 
noble tearmes thy peace may 
be made. Live not in a Pris- 
on, but come forth that thou 
mayest benefite thy selfe, dye 
not there, but live that thou 
mayest doe service to thy 
Country. Pay thy debts so 
farre as thou canst, because 
the most heavie debts that 
ever thy Soule did owe, were 
paid for thee. 

A Creditor hath two paire 
of hands, one of flesh and 
blood which Nature gives him, 

pp. 20-22. 



into the yoke of adversity if 
no more veynes herein were 
cut but their owne; but here 
is none so poor which dyes in 
prison, but the last gaspe doth 
cracke the heart-strings of a 
wife, children, father, mother, 
friends, or allies; therefore 
art thou bound to take pitty 
of thy selfe, and to hang out 
the flag of truce to thy bloody- 
minded creditor, and seeke 
for ransome to pay all, so that 
thou maist escape with life, 
though it be upon some igno- 
ble termes, and much losse to 
thee; if none of these re- 
spects, yet for thy countrie's 
sake, to whom thou art a tray- 
tor, if thou give thy selfe to 
thine enemies hand, when 
upon parley thy peace may 
be made, come forth of pris- 
on, and dye not there, that 
thou mayst honour thy King, 
and doe service to thy coun- 
trey, and pay thy debts so 
farre as thou art able, be- 
cause the greatest debt that 
ever thou didst owe, was paid 
for thee. 8 



A creditor hath two paire 
of hands, one of flesh and 
blood, and that nature gave 



Oeffray Mynshul and Thomas Dekker 



237 



another of yron which the 
Law gives him Of 
these two the lesse hath power 
over the great; the soft 
warmth of the one, being able 
to melt the hardnesse of the 
other. And that never hap- 
pens but when Grace and 
Mercy kisse Law and Justice. 
Such dayes are seldome set 
downe in common Calendars ; 
for a strange Meridian is that 
Almanacke calculated in 
which they are found. 

And yet I have seen a Cred.- 
itor in a Prison weepe when 
he beheld the Debtor, and to 
lay out money of his owne 
purse to free him: he shot a 
second Arrow to finde the 
first. But suppose he shot 
both away; thinke you his 
sheafe was the lesse, or Quiver 
more emptie? No: I believe 
he scattered a handful of 
Corne, and reaped a Bushell 
he laid out, and God paid. 
- / Thou that art a 
Creditor, wilt not believe this : 
Doe not : But in stead of that 
mans weeping, make thou thy 

Debtor melt into teares. 

- Doest thou not sleepe 
upon the pillowe of thine 
owne damnation ? That prayer 
to God is a curse upon thy 
selfe. Thou mockest him to 
whom thou prayest: but he 
will not mocke thee. 



him ; another of iron, and that 

the law gives him - 

But if hee once consider 

- then the softnesse of 
the one doth so operate, that 
it meets with the hardness of 
the other, which never comes 
to passe, but when Grace and 
Mercy kisse Law and Justice ; 
but such dayes are seldome 
set downe in our calenders, but 
I perswade myself e that for a 
strange meridian is that al- 
manacke calculated in which 
they are found. - - I 

thinke I should nominate but 
one onely, and onely one of a 
mercifull brest, who did not 
onely grieve to see his debtor 
opprest with misery, but also 
laid money out of his purse to 
free him, he shot a second ar- 
row to find the first, and sup- 
pose he shot both away, doe 
you think his quiver was the 
emptier? No, he scattered a 
handfull of corne. and reaped 
a bushell - - God 

became his debtor, and paid 
him more than his accompt 
came to. 

Thou that art a creditor 
wilt not beleeve this ; doe not. 
But in stead of this man's 
weeping make thy debtor melt 
into teares - 

Dost thou not sleepe on the 
pillow of thy owne damna- 
tion, thy prayers turn into 



238 



Hunt 



Thou takest (with one clap 
of a Varlets hand) from the 
Courtier, his Honor: from 
the Lawyer his tongue : from 
the Merchant the Seas: from 
the Citizen his credit: from 
the Scholler his preferment: 
from the Husbandman the 
Earth itselfe: from all men, 
(so much as thou canst) the 
very brightnesse and warmth 

of the Sunne in heaven. 

In being cruell to thy 

Debtor, thou art worse then 
a common Hangman; He be- 
fore he strikes begges for- 
givenesse. Thou takest a 
pride to condemne, when thou 
mayest save; and (Nero-like) 
dauncest, when the most glo- 
rious Cittie is on fire. 

But it may be thy private 
estate is sicke, and weakely; 
and thou to Physicke it, art 
compelled to breake into Gar- 
dens of thine owne, which are 
locked from thee by other 
mens hands. In doing this, 
thou doest well : If any weare 
thy coate, and thyselfe goest a 
cold, thou art not to be blamed 
if thou plucke it off from his 
shoulders. But if hee that 
borowed thy coate, hath now 
worne it out, and hath not a 

pp. 25-28. 



cursings, and thou dost but 
mocke him that thou prayest 
to. 9 

Thou takest with one clap 
of a varlet's hand, from the 
courtier his honour, from the 
lawyer his tongue, from the 
merchant the seas, from the 
citizen his credit, from the 
scholler his preferment, from 
the husbandman the earth it 
selfe, and from all men, (as 
much as thou maist,) the 
brightnesse and warmth of 
the sunne of heaven. In a 
word, if nothing will make 
thy stony heart relent, thou 
in being cruell to thy debtor 
art worse then the hang-man ; 
hee before he strikes begs par- 
don, thou takest a pride to 
condemne where thou maist 
save. 

But it may be thy estate is 
sicke, thy credit much in- 
gaged, and to save thy selfe 
thou art forced to doe this. 

In so doing thou doest well ; 
if another weare thy coate, 
and thou goest cold, thou 
maist plucke it from his 
shoulders. 

But if he which hath bor- 
rowed thy coate hath worne 
it out, and hath not a ragge 
to cover him with, wilt thou 
trample upon his naked body ? 



239 



ragge to cover him, wilt thou 
trample upon his naked bo- 
some. If with the Jew (in- 
stead of money) thou de- 
maundest a pound of flesh, 
next to thy Debtors heart, 
wouldst thou cut him in 
pieces. If he offer to give 
thee the bed he lyes on, the 
dish he drinks in, his owne 
chamber for thee to sleepe in 
(and to sit shivering in the 
cold.) If he turne himself e, 
Wife, and Children as poore 
into the world, as they are to 
go out of it (nay not so rich 
neither by a sheet) and that 
he leave himselfe nothing to 
pay thee all, wilt thou for all 
this suffer him to die in the 

hands of the Lawe. 

To be tender-hearted 

to him that cannot pay thee, 
what is it? Is it any more 
than to lift a sicke man up- 
right upon his pillow, & to 
give him a little more ease. 
That man may recover and 
doe as much for thee. 

Society is the string at 
which the life of man hangs, 
without it is no musicke ; two 
in this make but an Unyson. 

Adam had his Eve. And 
every son of Adam hath a 
brother, whom he loves. No 
Charyot runnes with one 
wheele, two make it steady, 

10 pp. 30-32. 



If with the Jew of Malta, in- 
stead of coyne, thou requir- 
est a pound of flesh next to 
thy debtor's heart, wilt thou 
cut him in pieces? If thy 
debtor offers thee his bed hee 
lyes in, his chamber he sleeps 
in, his dish hee drinkes in; 
nay, all that he hath, so that 
he leaves himselfe, wife, and 
children as naked as they 
came into the world, wilt thou 
for all this suffer him to lye 
in prison? If thou be merci- 
ful to thy debtor that cannot 
pay thee, alas, what is it ? No 
more then if thou shouldest 
lift up the head of a sicke 
man upon his pillow to ease 
him, he may recover and doe 
as much for thee. 10 



Society is the string at 
which the life of man hang- 
eth, without which is no mus- 
icke, two in this maske is but 
a union; Adam had his Eve, 
and every sonne of Adam 
hath his brother whom he 
loves. 

No chariot runs with one 






240 



Hunt 



a third is superfluous, foure 
too cumbersome. Thou must 
choose one and but one: who 
walkes alone is lame. 

Men of all conditions are 
forced into a Prison: as all 
sorts of Rivers fall into the 
Sea, and when two meete, the 
current is more swift and 

easie. 

My counsell then is, 

that thou be sociable to all: 
acquainted with few: trust 
not to any, or if any (I sing 
the first note) not above one: 
and first make triall what the 
vessell holds; before thou 
pourest thy selfe into it. 

To be a Bowie for every 
Alley, and runne into all com- 
panies, proves thy mind to 
have no Byas. It is like a 
Traveller, who in severall 
countries, takes up many 
lodgings, and hath a thousand 
welcomes, but they are not to 
him but his money. 

Art thou conversant with an 
Atheist? Thy name will be 
enrolled on the same Fyle : Is 
thy companion a miserable 
base fellow? Niggardlinesse 
will hold her fingers on thy 
purse strings. The fellow- 
ship of Prodigals will draw 
thee to Ryot ; of Adulterers to 
Lust; of Swearers, to dammd 
oathes ; of Pot companions, to 
drunkennesse. 



wheele, two makes it steddy, 
a third is superfluous, foure 
too cumbersome: thou must 
choose one and but one, who 
walkes alone is lame. 

Men of all conditions are 
forced into prison, as all riv- 
ers run into the sea ; therefore 
it is good to bee familiar with 
all, acquainted with few, and 
if with any, eandem cantile- 
nam cano, but with one, make 
triall what the vessell will 
hold, before thou powre thy 
selfe into him 

Bee wary, therefore, of thy 
company, for to be a bowle 
for every alley, and run into 
every company, proves thy 
mind to have no bias. 

Thy comming into prison, is 
like a traveller comming into 
strange countries, who take 
up severall lodgings, hath 
many welcomes, but they are 
not to him but to his money. 

Let not thy companion be 
a miserable, base-minded fel- 
low, for then niggardlinesse 
will hold her fingers on thy 
purse-strings; let him not be 
a prodigall, for then he will 
draw thee to riot; if adulte- 
rer, to lust; if a swearer, to 
damned oaths; if a pot com- 
panion, to drunkennesse; ac- 
quaint thyselfe, therefore, not 
with the most but best, not the 
best in cloaths or money, but 



Geffray Mynshul and Thomas Dekker 



241 



Acquaint thy selfe there- 
fore not with the most, but 
the best: not the best in 
cloathes or money, but the 
best in doing best, or doing 
well. Are there none such in 
prison ? Keepe companie then 
with thy selfe, and in thy 
chamber talke with Plutarch 
or Seneca: the one will teach 
thee to live well, the other to 
dye well. 

From a ruinous house every 
man flies. They that aske 
every day (abroad) how thou 
doest (when thou art in pris- 
in) and protest they are sory 
for thy misfortunes, yet never 
come to thee : are like idle 
passengers pressing about a 
Barbers doore, when a man is 
carried in wounded. They 
peepe in and climbe about the 
windowes, but dare not enter 
into the shop, for feare they 
should swound to see him 
drest. A Prisoner is as much 
beholden to such leape - frog 
acquaintance^ a man shaken 
with an Ague is to every gos- 
siping woman he meets: He 
shall have five hundred me- 
dicines taught him for one 
disease, and not one worth the 
taking. 

If thou walkest abroad 
with a Keeper use him friend- 

u pp. 38-40. 
u pp. 44-45. 



in vertue; if there bee none 
such in prison, then keepe 
campany with thy selfe; in 
thy chamber keepe company 
with Plutarke, and Seneca, 
Perkins, and Greenbam; the 
one will teach thee to live 
well, the other to dye well. 11 



From a ruinous house every 
man flyes: they that are 
abroad aske every day how 
thou doest; when in prison 
they protest they are sorry 
for thy misfortunes, but never 
come to thee: such are like 
idle passengers pressing about 
a barber's shop, when a man 
is carryed in wounded, who 
will peepe in and climbe 
about the windows, but dare 
not enter into the shop for 
feare they should fall into a 
swound to see him drest. A 
prisoner is as much behold- 
ing to such leape-frogge ac- 
quaintance, as a man shaken 
with an ague to every gossip- 
ing woman hee meetes, who 
will teach him an hundred 
medicines, and not one worth 
taking. 12 

If thou walkest abroad with 
thy keeper, use him friendly, 



242 



Hunt 



\y, but not respectively. So 
mannage him, that he may 
thinke himselfe beholden to 
thee, not thou to him. For 
howsoever he fawnes upon 
thee with eomplementall 
standing bare, and officious 
attendance, yet know he 
serves in his place, but as the 
Dogge the Butcher. 

He is to thee as a Curre to 
a drove: if thou goest on 
quietly (be it to the slaughter 
amongst griping Lawyers, and 
cruel adversaries) he waits 
gently and brings thee to the 
very doore : But if thou offer 
to stray, he worries thee. 



Remember his eye shootes 
at two whites. Thy Person 
and thy Purse. The one he is 
to guard, the other must finde 
Mm. Thou art compelled to 
protect thy carkasse under his 
shelter, as a sheepe under a 
bryer (in a terrible storm,) 
& be sure for thy standing 
there, to have some of thy 
wooll torne off. 



but not respectively; so man- 
age him that he shall rather 
thinke himselfe beholding to 
thee then thou to him; for 
howsoever he faunes upon 
thee with complements, stand- 
ing bare with officious attend- 
ance, yet know he serves in 
his place but as the dog the 
butcher; he is to thee as a 
cur to a drove of beasts; if 
thou goest on quietly (be it to 
thy slaughter among griping 
cittizens, and cruell creditors 
to worke thy own freedome) 
hee waites gently and brings 
thee to the doore, but if thou 
once offer to stray hee worries 
thee. 

Remember his eye shootes 
at two whites, thy person and 
thy purse ; the one is to guard 
thee, the other to feed him; 
thou art compelled to protect 
thy carkase under his shelter 
as a sheepe in a terrible 
storme under a bryer, and be 
sure thy standing there is to 
have some of thy wooll torne 
off. 13 



It should be added that in spirit and general treatment, 
the sections on ' ' Jaylors ' ' offer the greatest dissimilarity, and 
that the last third of Mynshul's book corresponds to nothing 
in Dekker's. 



'pp. 55-56. 



Geffray Mynshul and Thomas Dekker 243 

In 1632 14 Dekker substituted for the prison reflections of 
1616 a narrative dealing with prison life, carefully integrated 
with the rest of the book ' ' English Villanies, " as " Villanies 
Discovered" was then rechristened. These new chapters pos- 
sess greater literary merit and a serener moral temper than 
the section they displace. 15 

University of Kansas. MARY LELAND HUNT. 

14 It has been impossible to trace a copy of this edition, but the edi- 
tion of 1638 offers internal evidence that it is a reprint of that of 1632. 
This is Fleay's opinion. 

15 This narrative, as well as the 1616 prison chapters not quoted 
above, I have used freely in a monograph (Columbia University Press) 
on Thomas Dekker. The Mynshul matter is briefly discussed on pages 
169-170. 



244 Cady 



THE WAKEFIELD GROUP IN TOWNELEY 

The characteristics as to style and meter of the plays as- 
signed to the Wakefield group in Towneley have often been 
noted, 1 but there has been no attempt carefully to set the 
bounds of the work of the man who wrote them, or put in con- 
venient form the chief characteristics which make them dis- 
tinctive. It is such a discussion that I have set myself in 
this paper. It will have served its purpose, if it succeeds in 
presenting a clearer view than has been had before of the 
characteristics of this author's style and of his methods of 
work. 

Generally stated the characteristics of his style may be 
said to be its humor, its superior dramatic form, and its 
peculiar meter. These things are so well defined, that when 
found together they enable us to assign certain plays and por- 
tions of plays to him without hesitation. But there are some 
plays possessing this markedly humorous and dramatic qual- 
ity, but not written in the characteristic meter ; and there are 
certain stanzas, too few in number to exhibit any marked 
peculiarities in style, which seem to be corruptions of the usual 
stanza. In order, therefore, to be able to set the bounds of his 
work it is necessary to consider these two characteristics : first, 
the metrical form, in order to obtain criteria for determining 
the authorship of these doubtful stanzas; and second, the 
style of the plays known to belong to the group, in order to 
determine whether those plays which are humorous and 
highly dramatic in quality, but not in the usual meter, may 
not be, at least in part, the work of the same editor. 

The most obvious characteristic of his work is its metrical 
form. In fact this peculiar meter is so uniformly present in 
plays possessing the other characteristics of the W author 
that it is safe to assign it, wherever found, to his hand. It 
forms a sufficient test of his work and enables us to say defi- 
nitely that all of plays 3, 12, 13, 16, 23 ; scenes in 20, 22, and 

1 Mr. A. W. Pollard, Introduction to E. E. T. S. edition of the 
Towneley Plays. Hohlfeld, Die Altenglischen KoUektivmisterien, Anglia, 
vol. xi, 219 ff. etc. 



The Wakefield Group in Towneley 245 

30; and isolated stanzas in 2, 23, 27, and 29 are by the W 
author. 

The stanza rhymes in ababababcdddc. The a rhyme is us- 
ually internal, though there are a few exceptions to that form. 
These are found in play 2, st. 35, 36 ; pi. 23, st. 2 ; pi. 27, st. 30 ; 
as well as in certain seemingly corrupt stanzas, which are to 
be discussed immediately. The c rhymes are mere tags. 

The scansion of this stanza is not an easy matter. There 
is much apparent variation both in the number of feet in a 
line and in the number of syllables in each foot. But the 
basic stanza seems to have been one with two accented and 
two unaccented syllables to the half line, the accent coming 
on the final syllable of each foot. There is, however, a ten- 
dency to increase the number of unaccented syllables, so that 
it is hardly possible to find a stanza absolutely typical of the 
basic form. I, therefore, illustrate it by a stanza chosen at 
random from play 12. It is the fourth stanza of the play. 
My handys may I wryng / and mowrnyng make, 
Bot if good will spryng / the countre forsake ; 
ffermes thyk ar eomyng / my purs is bot wake, 
I haue nerehand nothyng / to pay nor to take ; 

I may syng 
"With purs penneles 
That makys this heuynes 
Wo is me this dystres 

And has no helping. 

The scansion of this stanza evidently calls for two accen- 
ted syllables in every half line, but there are a number of feet 
which contain two unaccented syllables. 

This tendency to increase the number of unaccented syl- 
lables is characteristic of the author. I quote as illustrative a 
stanza from that part of play 22 which is undoubtedly his 
work. 
Play 22, st. 5. 

primus tortor. I haue ron that I swett / from sir herode 

oure kyng 
With this man that will not lett / oure lawes to downe 

bryng; 
he has done so mych forfett / of care may he syng; 



246 Cady 

Thrugh dom of sir pylate he gettys / an yll endyng 

And sore; 

The great warkys he has wroght 
Shall serue hym of noght, 
And bot thay be dere boght, 

lefe me no more. 

In this stanza feet with only one unaccented syllable are few, 
the majority having two or even three unaccented. So far is 
this fondness for unaccented syllables carried, that it is 
possible to scan many of the verses with more than two feet 
to the verse. I give as an example another stanza, 18, from 
this same play, 22, scanning it first upon the two accent basis, 
with numerous unaccented syllables, and then upon a basis 
of four accents. 
Play 22, st. 18. Two accents to the half line : 

Hi tortor. Sirs, as he cam from iherico / a blynde man 

satt by the way ; 
To hym walkand with many mo / cryand to hym thus can 

he say, 
"Thou son of dauid, or thou go / of blyndnes hele thou me 

this day." 

Ther was he helyd of all his wo / sich wonders can he 
wyrk all way 

At wyll ; 

he rasys men from deth to lyfe, 
And castys out devyls from thame oft sythe, 
seke men cam to hym full ryfe, 

He helys thaym of all yll. 
Four accents to the half line : 
Hi tortor. Sirs, as he cam from iherico / a blynde man 

satt by the way; 
To hym walkand with many mo / cryand to hym thus can 

he say, 
"Thou son of dauid, or thou go / of blyndnes hele thou me 

this day." 

Ther was he helyd of all his wo / sich wonders can he 
wyrk all way 

At wyll ; 
he rasys men from deth to lyfe, 



The Wakefield Group in Towneley 247 

And castys out devyls from thame oft sythe, 
seke men cam to hym full ryfe, 
He helys thaym of all yll. 

This illustration simply shows how easily the stanza could 
become corrupt by the addition of unaccented syllables. 

As a matter of fact, when this trick of adding unaccented 
syllables is once learned, it becomes the simplest matter in 
the world to extend the lines unnaturally and so distort the 
form of the stanza until it is hardly recognizable. This the 
W author seems to have done in some cases. But further dis- 
cussion along this line must be post-poned until a second stand- 
ard for judging the authorship of the stanzas has been no- 
ticed : that is the use of alliteration. 

The W author makes very little use of alliteration. The 
great mass of the stanzas is, like that just quoted, without it. 
In others its use is seemingly accidental, as in the first and 
second stanzas quoted. But sometimes, when a serious or 
solemn effect was desired, its use appears to have been inten- 
tional. Such are the speeches of the shepherds when they 
worship the child. 
Play 13, st. 80. primus pastor: 

hayll, comly and clene / hayll, yong child ! 
hayll, maker, as I meyne / of a wadyn so wylde ! 
Thou has waryd, I weyne / the wa,r\o so wylde ; 
The fals gryler of teyn / now goys he be^ylde. 

lo, he merys; 

lo, he laghys, my swetyng, 
A welfare metyng, 
I haue /tolden my /tetyng; 
haue a bob of cherys. 
St. 81. i jus pastor. 

hayll, sufferan sauyoure ! / ffor thou has vs soght : 
hayll, /rely /oyde and /loure/Mat all thyng has wroght ! 
hayll, full of /auoure / that made all of noght ! 
hayll ! I kneyll and I cowre./ A &yrd haue I 6roght, 

To my &arne. 
hayll, lytyll tyne mop! 
of oure crede thou art crop : 
I wold drynk on thy cop, 
Lytyll day starne. 



248 Cady 

Here there seems to be an effort to increase, by the use of 
alliteration, the effect of solemnity in the simple worship of 
the shepherd. This alliteration is sometimes, as in line 1 of 
each stanza, confined to a half line : in other verses, as in line 
2 of stanza 80, it extends through both halves of the line ; and 
in lines 2 and 4 of stanza 81 it differs in each half line. 

In other places much use is made of alliteration to add to 
the bombastic effect of the speeches of Herod and Pilate, or 
of their heralds. Such are the stanzas in the Nuncio's speech 
in play 16, where he is lauding Herod. I quote stanza 1. 
Play 16, st. 1. Nuncius: 

Moste wyghty wahowne / meng you with mirth ! 
Both of burgh and of towne / by /ellys and by /yrth, 
Both fcyng with crowne / and ftarons of ferith, 
That radly wyll rowne / many greatt grrith 

Shall be happ. 
Take tenderly intent 
what sondys ar sent, 
Else /tarmes shall ye /tent, 
And Zothes you to lap. 

This use of alliteration continues through the first nine stan- 
zas to the close of the Nuncio's speech. Then Herod begins 
in a vaunting strain; but with what appears to be an inten- 
tional avoidance of alliteration. 

It is possible, then, to define the nature of the Wakefield 
stanza by saying: That the favorite metrical form of its 
author was a stanza rhyming obdbobdbcdddc. This stanza 
normally had two feet to a half line; but this normal form 
was often much disguised by the addition of unaccented syl- 
lables ; thus making possible verse forms containing more than 
the usual two feet. The writer made little use of alliteration, 
except when he wished to add to an effect of solemnity, or 
make a vaunting speech more bombastic in tone. When he 
did use alliteration he was much more apt to confine it to half 
lines than to extend over a whole verse. 

The stanzas which seem to be corruptions of this W stanza 
are found in play 20, st. 97-102 ; play 24, st. 6-9 ; play 27, st. 
57. In play 20 the stanzas show a tendency to break up into 
quatrains. This is accompanied by alliteration and a length- 



The Wakefield Group in Towneley 



249 



ening of the lines. But these changes are not found in all 
the stanzas in the group. It has already been shown by illus- 
trations drawn from play 22, that the W stanza was often 
capable of being spoken with four accents to the half line. 
Although all the stanzas in play 20 are written with the a 
rhyme as an end rhyme, it is possible to show that st. 97, at 
least, is a good example of this four accent stanza. I com- 
pare it with play 22, st. 16, which I write without internal 



rhyme. 

PI. 20, st. 97. Malcues Miles: 
Sir, this loarnay I vndertake 

with all my myght and mayn. 
I'f I shuld, for mahowns sake, 

here in this place be slayn, 
Crist that prophett for to take, 

we may be all full fayn. 
Oure weppyns redy loke ye make 

to bryng hym in mekyll grame 

This nyght. 
Go we now on oure way, 

oure mastres for to may ; 
Oure lantarnes take with us 
alsway, 

And loke that thay be light ! 



Play 22, st. 16. 

Syrs, at the ffeste of architreclyn 

this prophete he was ; 
Ther turnyd he water into wyn 

that day he had sich grace, 
his apostles to hym can enclyn 

and other that ther was ; 
The see he past bot few yeres 

syn 
it lete hym walk thereon apase 

At wyll; 

The elementys all bydeyn, 
And wyndes that ar so keyn, 
The firmamente, as I weyn, 



Ar hym obeyng tyll. 

While there is irregularity in both stanzas, it is evident that, 
taken by themselves they would be considered representatives 
of the same metrical structure. That this is also true of 
stanza 100, play 20 comes out when it is compared with stanza 
19 of play 22. 

PI. 22, st. 19. primus tortor, 

ffor all thise dedys of great 
louyng 

fower thyngys I haue fond cer- 
tanly, 

ffor which he is worthy to hyng -. 

oone is oure kyng that he wold 
be. 

Oure sabbot day in his wyrkyng 

he, lettys not to hele the seke 



PI. 20, st. 100, primus miles: 
That boyn, lord, thou vs bede, 
and on hym wreke the sone we 

shall ; 
ffro we haue lade on hym good 

spede ; 
he shall no hore hym godys 

son call, 
we shall marke hym truly his 

mede; 



250 



Cady 



truly; 
he says oure temple he shall 

downe bryng 
and in thre dales byg it in hy 

All hole agane; 
Syr pilate, as ye sytt, 
looke wysely in youre wytt ; 
Dam ihesu or ye flytt 
On crosse to suffre his payrie. 



by mahowne most, god of all, 
Siche thre knyghtys had lytyll 

drede 
To bynde the dwill that we on 

call 

In nede; 
ffor if thay were a thowsand 

mo, 
that prophete and his apostels 

also 
with thise two handys for to 

slo, 

had I lytyll drede. 

Here, too, the evident similarity in form proves the doubtful 

stanza to belong to the Wakefield Group. But in connection 

with these two undoubted Wakefield stanzas are two others 

written as four (98, 99; 101, 102) in the text, which are here 

given side by side. 

St. 98. Secundus Miles: 

Sir pilate, prynce pereles in pall, 

of all men most myghty merked 

on mold, 
we ar euer more redy to com at 

thi call, 
and bow to thi bydyng as bach- 

lers shold. 
99. Bot that prynce of the apos- 

tyls pupplyshed beforne, 
Men call hym crist, comen of 

dauid kyn, 

his lyfe full sone shalbe forlorne. 
If we haue hap hym forto wyn. 

haue done ! 

ffor, as euer ete I breede, 
or I styr in this stede 
I wold stryke off his hede ; 
lord, I aske that boyne. 



101. Pilatus: 

Now, curtes kasers of kamys kyn 
most gentyll of lure to me that 

I fynde, 
My comforth from care may ye" 

sone wyn, 
if ye happely may hent that un- 

heynde. 

102. Bot go ye hens spedely and 

loke ye not spare ; 
My frenship, my fortherans, 
shall euer with you be ; 
And mahowne that is myghfull 
he menske you euermare ! 
Bryng you safe and sownde 

with that brodell to me! 
In place 

wher so euer ye weynd, 
ye knyghtys so heynde, 
Sir lucyfer the feynde 
he lede you the trace ! 



The Wakefield Group in Towneley 251 

Since these stanzas are both found in such close connection 
with the other two undoubted W stanzas, one would also be 
apt to consider them W stanzas, were it not for two very 
obvious objections to this view. These are, first, that there 
is a change in the rhyme scheme after the fourth line, which 
marks the first four lines in each stanza as a single quatrain ; 
and, second, that the single quatrain stanza 98 and the quat- 
rain in st. 102 have lines which are considerably longer than 
the rest. But these objections are easily overcome. To con- 
sider the last first: the tendency to lengthen the line has al- 
ready been noted. These stanzas but carry it a step farther 
than the other examples given by introducing two unaccented 
syllables instead of one in each foot of a four accent half 
line, here written more correctly as a verse by itself. Such 
feet are found in the first six lines of st. 98-99 and in all of the 
lines in the quatrain portion of stanza 101-102 except the first. 
The change in the rhyme scheme by which quatrains are 
developed may be as easily explained. There is abundant 
evidence that a quatrain editor has been at work on the 
Towneley plays, especially on that group of the plays which 
were directly borrowed from York. 2 Quatrains are plentiful 
in play 20, part of which is a York borrowing. We are justi- 
fied in thinking that this editor has been at work here. In 
this particular case the change in rhyme breaks each W 
stanza into a single quatrain and a single quatrain plus the W 
cauda. If the cauda were dropped or changed into a quatrain 
the result would be a succession of single quatrains. This final 
stage seems to be illustrated by the four stanzas just preced- 
ing stanza 97. 
St. 93, ludas: 

Ordan ye knyghtys to weynd with me, 
Richly arayd in rewyll and rowtt ; 

And all my couandys holden shall be, 

So I haue felyship me abowte. 
St. 94. Pilatus: 

wherby, ludas, shuld we hym knaw, 

1 On the York Group see The York Mystery Plays, Miss L. Toulmin 
Smith; E. E. T. S. edition of The Towneley Plays, Introduction; 
Anglia, vol. xi, 219 ff.; Davidson, Studies in the English Mystery Plays, 
pp. 137-157. 



252 Cady 

If we shall wysely wyrk, Iwys ? 

ffor som of v's hym neuer saw. 
ludas: lay hand on hym that I' shall kys. 
St. 95Pilatus: 

haue done, sir knyghtys, and kythe youre strengthe 

And wap you wightly in youre wede ; 
Seke ouer all, both brede and lengthe ! 

Spare ye not, spende and spede ! 
St. 96. 

We have soght hym les and more, 

And f alyd ther we haue f arn ; 

Malcus, thou shall weynd before, 

And bere with the a light lantarne. 

These four stanzas agree very well with 98 and 101 in meter. 
There is nothing about them to indicate that they are not a 
revision of the old W stanza by the quatrain editor, and, in 
connection with the stanzas already considered, there is much 
to support that view. In fact we are probably safe in consider- 
ing all this scene a revision of an older Wakefield scene. 

This lengthy discussion of the doubtful stanzas in play 20 
has been made necessary by the importance of the indications 
which it gives that certain accepted conclusions concerning 
the growth of this cycle may be erroneous. As I have indi- 
cated in a previous article, 3 scholars have been accustomed to 
divide the plays composing the Towneley Cycle into three 
groups 4 according to the order in which the plays are sup- 
posed to have been added to the cycle. According to this divi- 
sion the York group is the second, and the Wakefield the third, 
while the first is composed of a number of plays of a simple 
religious nature and written in a simple meter, which from 
their form seem to be the most archaic portion of the cycle. 
Through all the cycle run couplets and quatrains which are 
evidently the work of editors. 5 But on examination of these 
couplets and quatrains it is discovered that the York group 
contains no couplets while all the groups contain quatrains. 
This evidently makes it necessary to conclude that the York 

3 Journal of English and Germanic Philology, X, No. 4, p. 572 ff. 
* The Towneley Plays, E. E. T. S., pp. xxvi ff. 
8 Davidson, p. 129. 



The Wakefield Group in Towneley 253 

group was the last added to the cycle. The quatrains here 
found in connection with the Wakefield stanzas are part of 
the evidence for proving the old order wrong. 

We have seen in connection with the worship of the shep- 
herds, that the author of the Wakefield scenes makes use of 
alliteration in passages to which he wishes to give a solemn or 
serious effect, and we have found in the speech of Nuncius, 
play 16, st. 1-10, a similar use of alliteration where he wishes 
to give a bombastic effect. In these cases it was found that the 
alliteration was more commonly confined to what was really 
the half line as generally written. There was also found, 
especially in play 22, a tendency to lengthen each verse by 
the addition of unaccented syllables. In the first four stan- 
zas of play 22, where Pilate makes a bombastic speech, these 
two tendencies are carried much further. There is little reg- 
ularity in the alliteration and little limit to the length of a 
line, with considerable confusion metrically. I quote stanza 3. 
Bot this prophete, that has prechyd and puplyshed so playn 

Cristen law, crist thay call hym in oure cuntre ; 
Bot oure prynces full prowdly this nyght haue hym tayn, 

ffull tyatt to be dampned he shall be hurlyd byfore me ; 
I shall fownde to be his freynd vtward, in certayn, 

And shew hym fare cowntenance and wordys of vantye ; 
Bot or this day at nyght on crosse shall he be slayn, 
Thus agans hym in my hart I here great enmyte 

ffull sore. 

ye men that vse bak-bytyngys, 
and rasars of slanderyngys, 
ye ar my dere darlyngys, 

And mahowns for euermore. 

These stanzas simply carry out the tendency, heretofore noted, 
to increase 'the number of unaccented syllables. They are on 
a basis of two accents to the half line, but can more easily be 
read with four accents. The number of unaccented syllables 
in each foot is much increased, so that even when scanned 
with four accents they vary from one to three in each foot. 
(See the last foot of line 2 and the third in line 4). The 
rhyme scheme is that of the W group and these four stanzas, 
to which Pilate's bombastic speech is confined, are followed 



254 Cady 

by the regular Wakefield form, which continues throughout 
the first scene of the play. So it is probable that all were 
written by the W author, but that he enlarged these to 
heighten the bombastic effect. 

Again, in play 24 there are four stanzas, 6, 7, 8, 9, which 
are a probable corruption of the same meter. They have been 
divided differently in the E. E. T. S. edition and that leads to 
some confusion. On inspection, however, it becomes evident 
that st. 6 and 7 are practically the same in structure as st. 
98, 99 of play 20. The usual W pedes is, as there, broken 
into two quatrains, to which the usual cauda is attached. 
Here, also, the first quatrain has much longer verses than the 
second. In fact they are the longest so far found, as they 
can be scanned with six feet ; but this is accounted for by the 
theory of growth in length through the addition of unaccented 
syllables. The second quatrain is more nearly the usual 
length. 
Stanza 6. 

loke that no boy be to bustus. blast here for to blaw, 
Bot truly to my talkyng loke that ye be intendyng ; 
If here be any boy that will not loutt till oure law, 
By myghty mahowne, high shall he hyng; 
South, north, eest, west, 
In all this warld in lengthe and brede, 
Is none so doughty as I', the best, 
doughtely dyntand on mule and on stede. 
Stanza 7. 

Therfor I say, 

loke that ye lowte to my lykance, 
ffor dowte of dynt in greuance; 
dilygently ply to my plesanee, 

As prynce most myghty me pay. 

St. 8 is the usual cauda and is followed by st. 9, a pedes 
similar to st. 6. St. 9 has no cauda. These all appear to be 
corruptions of the usual Wakefield stanza, five of which pre- 
cede them. The nine contain the bombastic speech by Pilate, 
which opens the play. 

The 57th stanza of Play 29 is similar to st. 98, 99, 101, 102 
of play 20 in one respect. It shows a tendency to divide into 



The Wakefield Group in Towneley 255 

quatrains, but this is not so marked as in the stanzas in play 
20. There the rhyme scheme is (98) abab (99) cdcdefffe; 
that is, the quatrain of 99 shows a complete new set of rhymes. 
In the stanza in play 29 the rhyme scheme is ababbcbcdeeed; 
that is, the 6 rhyme of the first quatrain becomes the a rhyme 
of the second. The stanza is doubtless an editing of a W 
stanza, for it is followed by such a stanza and the two are pre- 
ceded and followed by quatrains. 

Of the characteristics of style, the first to be noticed is 
the great freedom in the use of the biblical source. It is 
a general characteristic of the Mystery Plays that they fol- 
low biblical authority closely, many of them being not much 
more than amplified metrical translations of the scriptures. 
But in nearly every case this W editor, taking the scripture 
story as a basis, has allowed free rein to his imagination, 
showing considerable skill in the development both of plot 
and character. Examples are plenty. Note the development 
of the story of Noah (pi. 2) ; of the Innocents (pi. 16) ; of the 
trial scenes (pi. 21 and 22), etc. Conspicuous in this respect 
is the second shepherds' play (play 13), in which he makes use 
of a legend, probably well known to the shepherds of the vicin- 
ity, 8 and succeeds in creating the only Mystery Play with any- 
thing like a well-developed plot. It is the story of Mak and 
the Shepherds. Three shepherds meet on the heath and com- 
plain of their ill-fortune. Mak comes up and enters into con- 
versation. The weary shepherds lie down to sleep when Mak 
throws a spell around them and, as he says, ' ' borrows ' ' a sheep 
and goes home. His wife upbraids him for stealing the sheep, 
but finally consents to help conceal it. They put it in the 
crib, determined to pass it off on the shepherds as their new- 
born child. This ruse nearly succeeds; but one of the shep- 
herds returns to give the child sixpence and the sheep is dis- 
covered. The shepherds punish Mak by tossing him in a 
blanket and then on the Angel's summons they go to Beth- 
lehem to worship the Christ Child. The author has made the 
entirely non-biblical story of Mak the kernel of the play. 

Closely connected with his ability to construct scenes upon 
the slenderest biblical source was the power he had to present 

The Townfley Plays. K. E. T. S. Introduction pp. xxxi-xxxiv. 



256 Cady 

vividly the life of his time. In the first shepherd's play, he 
describes the shepherds feasting on the heath, giving in great 
detail a scene which must have been vividly real to his aud- 
iences and garnishing the whole with a sharp relish of humor 
and satire upon the evils of the day, the oppression by the 
landlords, and the difficulties of a shepherd's life. But his 
satirical vein is best illustrated in the character of Tutivillus 
in the play on the Judgment, PI. 30. Tutivillus is the devil's 
chief officer and has hunted many thousands of souls for his 
master. He knows them all, tells over their natures with great 
attention to detail, and joins gleefully in driving the con- 
demned souls to hell, taunting them as he goes with their sins. 
Other characteristic satires on the times are found in the 
Shepherd Plays. I quote, as example, the opening speech of 
play 13 : 
Primus Pastor: 

Lord, what these weders ar cold / and I am yll happyd ; 
I am nere hande dold / so long haue I nappyd ; 
My legys thay fold / my fyngers ar chappyd, 
It is not as I wold / for I am al lappyd 

In sorow. 

In stormes and tempest, 
Now in the eest, now in the west, 
wo is hym has neuer rest 
Myd day nor morow ! 

Bot we sely shepardes / that walkys on the moore, 
In f ayth we are nere handys / outt of the doore ; 
No wonder as it standys / if we be poore, 
ffor the tylthe of our landys / lyys falow as the floore, 

As ye ken. 
we are so hamyd, 
ffor-taxed and rarnyd, 
We are mayde hand tamyd, 
with thyse gentlery men. 

After two stanzas detailing the exactions of the gentry he 
closes as follows: 

Ther shall com a swane / as prowde as a po, 
he must borow my wane / my ploghe also, 
Then I am full fane / tograunt or he go. 



The Wake field Group in Towneley 257 

Thus lyf we in payne / Anger, and wo, 

By night and day; 
he must haue if he langyd, 
If I shuld forgang it, 
I were better be hangyd 
Then oones say hyra nay. 

It dos me good, as I walk / thus by myn oone, 
Of this warld for to talk / in maner of mone. 
To my shepe wyll I stalk / and herkyn anone, 
Ther abyde on a balk / or sytt on a stone 

ffull soyne. 
ffor I trowe, perde, 
trew men if thay be, 
we gett more compane 
Or it be noyne. 

And the second shepherd enters. 

In connection with this vivid presentation of the life of the 
times the author makes use of local references which have 
helped to identify the locality of the plays. Both Pollard 7 in 
his introduction, and Peacock, 8 note the reference to Horbury 
and to the crooked thorne in play 13 (first, lines 454-7 ; second, 
line 403), and Peacock shows that the situation of the places, 
close to Wakefield, is evidence that the plays were given in 
Wakefield itself. As these, with one exception, and that, as 
will be shown, 9 probably in a Wakefield play, are the only 
references to Wakefield that are at all definite, I have taken 
them as an indication that this group, at least, was written 
at that town. 10 

But the chief characteristic of the W plays is their highly 
developed dramatic power. This has been noticed in discus- 
sing those characteristics already mentioned. The most con- 
spicuous example is the story of Mak. In delineation of char- 
acter and ability to sustain the interest the W author is far 
ahead of any other editor or author of Mystery Plays. 

7 The Towneley Plays. Introduction, pp. xiii, xiv. 

8 Anglia, vol. xxiv, 518. 
See below, page 258. 

10 See above, page 1, footnote 1. 



258 Cady 

The plays and scenes which may be definitely assigned to 
the W group have already been noted ; and it has been shown 
that certain corrupt stanzas are doubtless the same man's 
work. Besides these there are two plays, play 2 and play 24, 
in which identity of meter is lacking, but which in other par- 
ticulars seem to agree more closely with the work of the Wake- 
field editor than with that of any other. 

Play 2 is conspicuous because of its deviation from the 
biblical source in the introduction of Cain's plough boy, 
Garcio, who acts the part of clown. He is conceived quite 
after the manner of the W editor. He enters the scene with 
considerable bluster and shows a wholly unpardonable lack 
of reverence for his master, Cain, which reaches its climax 
after the murder of Abel. Cain pretends to have received a 
warrant from the king absolving himself and Garcio from 
punishment for the death of Abel. This he reads through, 
each sentence interrupted by irreverent and sarcastic re- 
marks on the part of the plough boy, the purport of which 
is that he cares nothing for such a pardon, what he wants is 
to have Cain give him plenty to eat and drink. Cain finally 
has to give up his reading in anger. In addition to this, Cain 
gives long and humorous, but irreverent, replies to the plead- 
ing of Abel and succeeds in turning this biblical tragedy into 
something of a farce. It is this play which also contains the 
only direct reference to Wakefield, or its vicinity, outside of 
the 13th play. Cain, having killed Abel, says he will hide and 
gives the following directions : 
Lines 362-367. 

And where so any man may find me, 

Let hym slo me hardely; 

And where so any man may me meyte, 

Ayther bi sty, or yit bi strete ; 

And hardely, when I am dede, 

bery me in gudeboure at the quarell hede. 
"Here," says Peacock, 11 "we have so plain a reference to 
Wakefield that it is surprising to find no explanation of it 
either in the edition of the Surtees Society, or in the more 
recent one of the Early English Text Society. ' ' He then pro- 

u Anglia, xxiv, pp. 516, 517. 



The Wakefield Group in Towneley 259 

ceeds to show that Goody Bower was a well known locality 
in Wakefield and that it might well have been the scene of 
the acting of the plays themselves. "No more fitting place 
in Wakefield could have been found. Within a stone's throw 
of the Church and close to Wakefield Green, it was entirely 
surrounded by fields and gardens up to the 17th century, and 
would serve exactly the same purpose as is served by the 
meadow at Ober-Ammergau, where the plays are now acted. ' ' 

Coupled with the fact that the peculiar humorous and 
dramatic character of the play makes it extremely probable 
that it was written by the W editor, although only the last two 
stanzas are in the W meter, this very evident reference to 
Wakefield but increases the probability that the author of 
play 13 was also the author of play 2. In regard to this Pol- 
lard remarks: 12 "The extraordinary boldness of the play, 
and the character of its humor, makes it difficult to dissociate 
it from the work of the author of the shepherds' plays, and I 
cannot doubt that this also, at least in part, must be added to 
his credit." 

Hohlfeld, 13 it is true, does not go so far, thinking that 
play 2 should be distinguished from others of a humorous 
nature because of its greater coarseness. His point is to a 
certain extent well taken. The play is the coarsest of those 
which have been suggested as the work of the W editor. But, 
on the other hand, it is just as true that the scene between 
Cain and Garcio, when Cain attempts to read the king's pro- 
clamation is worthy of the author who wrote the second 
shepherds' play. It shows considerably more skill in con- 
struction than do the usual humorous scenes in the usual cycle. 
There are many indications that the W editor often re-wrote 
older plays. In fact his usual method was to re-write on an 
older framework. Here there is nothing to indicate a change 
in his habits of work ; but the evident discrepancy in humorous 
quality does indicate that he added his better scenes to an 
older play, developing the characters of Cain and Garcio in 
his own way. Furthermore, the original stanza of this play 
is not that of the W group, though there are two W stanzas 

a The Towneley Playg. E. E. T. S. Introduction, p. xxii. 
" Anglia, xi, page 309. 



260 Cady 

at the end. In addition the play has very evidently been 
edited in couplets after the insertion of the humorous scenes. 
It is probable that the W editor re-wrote on the basis of the 
original stanza, perhaps adding two in his own meter at the 
end. How many more are hidden in the long sections of coup- 
lets, it is impossible to say. 

Play 24 bears evidence similar to the above that it has 
been worked over by the W editor. In the first place the 
opening and closing stanzas are in the characteristic meter. 
Again, the dependence upon biblical or apocryphal sources is 
of the very slightest nature: the account of the casting lots 
for the garments of Christ in Matt, xxvii, 35; Mark xv, 24; 
Luke xxiii, 34 ; John xix, 23-24 ; and the reference in the M ors 
Pilati, which describes Pilate appearing before Tiberius in 
Christ's tunic, Gesta Pilati A x, i; B x, 3; and Latin x, I. 14 
The play has the characteristically humorous tone of the W 
group. The whole is in the nature of a farce. The torturers, 
after casting lots, run separately to Pilate, each claiming for 
himself the seamless tunic, but afraid that Pilate will claim 
it for himself. He fulfills their expectations in this regard 
and various propositions are made as to the method of divi- 
sion. Finally they decide to throw dice. Pilate loses, is 
very angry, and asks the coat as a favor. The one who won 
it gives it up and all with repeated oaths forswear the use of 
dice. The various situations are well worked out. The climax 
comes naturally and is only spoiled by the moral lecture at 
the end, contained in the forswearing. The- characters are 
developed more fully than is usually the case outside of the W 
group, especially that of Pilate. He stands out as a good type 
of the petulant ruler, who cannot stand the thwarting of his 
slightest wish. Thus the author has made the play an occa- 
sion for his favorite satire against those in high places. In 
discussing the connection between this play and the W group, 
both Pollard 15 and Hohlfeld 16 include it among the group. 
It is probably a re- writing of an older play as is play 2. There 
are a number of stanzas, in a simple aadbcccb meter, which 

14 Tischendorf, ed. 1853, p. 434. (from Anglia xi, p. 300). 

15 The Towneley Plays, E. E. T. S. Introduction, p. xxii. 
M Anglia xi, p. 309. 



The Wakefield Group in Towneley 261 

are spoken by each torturer as he comes on the stage. Upon 
these the scene between the three and Pilate seems to have 
been grafted, as it is in a different meter and much more 
characteristic of the "W author than what precedes. 

It thus becomes evident that the limits of the W author's 
work are not rigidly defined by his peculiar stanza, since cer- 
tain plays in different meters must be assigned to him, and 
since in certain cases he has apparently deviated from the 
rigid metrical type in which most of his plays are written. 
We must, therefore, include as his work, besides the plays in 
his usual stanza, Plays 2 and 24; stanzas 97-102, pi. 20; the 
first four stanzas of 22; the stanzas 6-9 of 24; with certain 
isolated stanzas in other plays. The fact that st. 97-102, pi. 
20 must be considered his is one evidence that the W group 
was added to the cycle before the York group, since they bear 
evidence of quatrains characteristic of that group. On the 
other hand these plays are not the oldest part of the cycle, 
because there is evidence, in certain cases, that the W editor 
has simply re-written older plays. 

In this connection a few observations concerning the 
methods of this highly original editor may be of interest. The 
evolution of the highly organized Mystery plays out of the 
liturgy, has been traced in general by Mr. E. K. Chambers. 17 
From his conclusions it would seem to follow that the present 
condition of the cycles has arisen from a process very similar 
to that collaboration with which we are familiar in the earlier 
of Shakespere's plays. Editors have been in the main, first 
translators from the Latin and then elaborators and re-writers 
of old scenes. They have not so much ventured to insert new 
scenes as to enlarge, compress, or shift old ones. Evidence 
that this was the method of the Wakefield author is plentiful. 
In fact much of his success seems to have arisen from the very 
skillful way in which he re-wrote old plays. In play 13, for 
instance, he simply incorporated into the Shepherd scene, com- 
mon to all the cycles from the earliest times, a legend of the 
country side, which he succeeded in cleverly dramatizing. In 
addition plays 16, 20, and 30, as well as 2 and 24 appear to be 
based on older plays already present in the cycle. I have 

17 The Mediaeval Stage, E. K. Chambers, vol. 2. 



262 Cady 

already pointed out that he has added certain isolated stanzas 
to older plays : such are pi. 23, st. 2 and 57 ; pi. 27, st. 4 and 30. 
Besides these there might be noted st. 16, 57, 58 of play 29. 
It has also been remarked that the two final stanzas in play 2 
can be taken as evidence that the W editor wrote that play, or 
at least worked it over. 

It thus becomes evident that, while the method of this 
editor is of interest because it is typical of the usual method 
in editing Mystery plays, his work is significant because 
through the medium of this usual method he added to the 
Mystery plays those scenes which show the highest develop- 
ment of dramatic power within the cycles. 

Professor Gayley 18 considers him to be much indebted to 
the school of cyclic writers which flourished at York. There 
are affinities of style upon which this theory of indebtedness 
can be based. Professor Gayley also finds affinities in metrical 
form. But metrical affinities must, it seems to me, be largely 
hypothetical. They seem to have been suggested by the fact 
that work of the Wakefield editor is often found in close con- 
tiguity with borrowings from York, and by the fact that it 
is commonly believed that the Wakefield editor's work fol- 
lowed the insertion of these borrowings from York into the 
Towneley cycle. I have elsewhere suggested 19 that an exami- 
nation of the editorial couplets and quatrains in Towneley 
reveals that this chronology is hardly possible. It seems rather, 
to be reasonable to give this editor full credit for his original- 
ity both in thought and execution since he has given us in the 
second Shepherds' play the first bit of true comic plot and in 
the plough-boy Garcio the first human low comic character in 
the English drama. FRANK W. CADY. 

Middlebury College. 

"Representative English Comedies, Introduction, pp. xxiv-xxix. 

19 Journal of English and Germanic Philology, X No. 4, page 572 ff. 



Seidel's Storms Brief e an Eggers and Storms Lyrik 263 



THEODOR STORMS BRIEFE AN FRIEDRICH EGGERS 
MIT EINER LEBENSKIZZE VON F. EGGERS UND 
GEDICHTPROBEN. Herausgegeben von H. Wolfgang 
Seidel. 1911. Berlin, Karl Curtius. 

THEODOR STORMS LYRIK. Von Walther Hermann. 
R. Voightlanders Verlag in Leipzig. 1911. 

Since the death of Theodor Storm in 1888 scholars have 
slowly and surely become interested in his life. He has not 
had numberless books written about him, his influence in 
German literature and life is not enormous and sweeping 
enough, but scholarly interest in his life and works has so 
steadily increased, that he is becoming more and more a sub- 
ject for serious study and biographical details are important 
enough to be published and edited. To an already very large 
list of the published letters to Emil Kuh, Morike, Keller, the 
Esmarchs, Hans Spekter, Oscar Horn, Dr. Foglar, Ada 
Christen, the " Brief e in die Heimat" and a considerable num- 
ber of others which would have to be enumerated if one were 
making a complete bibliography, there is added now another 
collection in book-form "Theodor Storms Brief e an Fried- 
rich Eggers." 

Before discussing this book another short collection of 9 
letters should be referred to. In Westermanns Monatshefte 
of August, 1911 there are letters which Storm wrote to mem- 
bers of the family Scherff published with a general introduc- 
tion and interspersed notes by Prof. Dr. Werner Deetjen. 
The family Scherff of Altona was related to Storm on Mrs. 
Scherff 's side, who was the daughter of Frau Alsen, the daugh- 
ter of a sister of Storm's grandfather Woldsen. This bond 
of union might possibly have kept the two families in touch 
with each other and have brought Storm and his family 
every year to Altona, but there was still another tie beside 
that of relationship, their common love of music. Ludwig 
Scherff, son of this family composed a very beautiful melody 
for Storms "Oktoberlied" and when Scherff visited Storm 
in his exile from his native Schleswig-Holstein in 1863, 
Storm 's ' ' Gesangverein ' ' sang for Scherff one of his own mus- 
ical compositions. The letters contain a story of his family life, 
of his love for his children, of his love of music, etc. There is a 
passage which speaks of Hoffmann's Magnetiseur, once more 
substantiating the fact that Storm loved the stories of the 
grotesque Romanticist. There is another passage which relates 
how Storm read "Schon Hedwig" by Hebbel "mit Schu- 
mannischer Musik" to cultivate the art sense among his fel- 



264 Hildner 

low citizens of Hademarschen, the ' ' Bauern, ' ' and still another 
of a visit of Paul Heyse. In a concluding note Deetjen ac- 
counts for the pessimistic attitude of Storm in his later life 
by his great grief over the loss of his oldest son. He thinks 
this pessimism was disclosed, when Storm wrote into the 
autograph album of a young lady the well known verses 

Dunkle Zypressen 

Die Welt is gar zu lustig ; 

Es wird doch alles vergessen. 

The letters to Eggers are not to be compared in value to 
the letters of Storm to Kuh 1889-1890, to Storm's Brief e an 
Morike, the Storm-Keller Briefwechsel 1903-1904, Briefe in 
die Heimat, 1907. The chief interest lies in Eggers, as a 
member of the "Tunnel" Club and the inner circle of this 
club, the ' ' Riitli, ' ' as a lyric poet who wrote some things which 
Storm looked upon as well done, and as the "Leiter des deut- 
schen Kunstblattes, 1850-1858." The letters have been edited 
by H. Wolfgang Seidel carefully on the whole; there are a 
few things which might have been annotated. He might have 
said something about the "Jakob Beckerschen Bildern." It 
may be that Jakob Becker is well known, but that is open 
to serious doubt. A number of other similar things might 
have been annotated with advantage to the reader and stu- 
dent. The letters to Eggers cover about the same period as 
the "Briefe in die Heimat." The first letter falls into the 
year 1853. The last letter is dated 1869. They have been 
printed through the kindness of the owner, Frau Senatorin 
Eggers in Rostock. They throw light on the personality of 
Storm and add some interesting utterances on the theory of 
poetry. The friends most often mentioned are : Fontane, 
Heyse, Kugler ; the "Tunnel" and "Riitli" meetings are given 
a good deal of space, the "Argo," a belletristic annual, of 
which the argonauts were Kugler, Eggers, Heyse, Fontane 
and others, and in which in 1854, 1857, 1859, 1860 Storm pub- 
lished poems and novels, and also the "Kunst und Literatur- 
blatt ' ' of which Eggers was the editor. In the first letter Storm 
makes a facetious remark about the very unpopular sale of his 
books "Wie brilliant es mit dem buchhandlerischen Vertrieb 
meiner Gedichte geht, erfuhr ich vorige Woche in Altona ; es 
war noch kein Exemplar verkauft, was mieh denn durchaus 
nicht wunderte. " The poem "Mysterium" which was sent to 
Eggers is no longer to be found. 

The most important letter of the whole collection, from 
which valuable quotations can be made is the second letter 
"Husum, Sonntag Morgen, den 13 Marz." Storm discusses 
there the questionableness of the theme of incest for a lyric 
poem and suggests how it should be treated, if it were chosen. 



Seidel's Storms Brief e an Eggers and Storms Lyrik 265 

To Menzel's criticism, that in Storm's writing "Phantasie" 
outweighs "Gefiihl," Storm's answer is: "Das ist gewisz un- 
richtig. Aber es ist eine Kunstfordemng fiir mich dasz das Ge- 
fiihl sich nur durch das medium der Phantasie aussprechen 
diirf e. Die drei Faktoren der Poesie sind : Gedanke, Bild, Ge- 
fuhl. Es musz alles drei immer beisammen sein-. ' ' In the same 
letter he states that there is an ethical factor in "Abseits," 
"im Walde," etc., that the poem "Abseits" was not intended 
merely as a description of the heath, but rather as the poetic 
impression which the heath made upon him. It is this im- 
pression that gives the poem its unity. In another part of the 
letter he discusses the use of figurative language. He does not 
believe in seeking after figures, it makes the mental process too 
prominent and weakens the poetic picture. He designates the 
work of imagination in poetry as an "in Scenesetzen des Ge- 
dankens." He does not reject the use of the figure but avoids 
it because as he says "es fiihrt iiberdies direct zur Phrase." 
Storm is piqued at Menzel's omission of any reference to his 
poetry, he thinks it an indication of Menzel's old age. Storm 
in this letter refers to his verses as "das originalste unter 
meinen Sachen. " They are not to be compared to the love 
relation which exists between the unconscious boy and girl, 
"es sind keine Friihlingslieder, sondern voll erschlossene Lie- 
besrosen." The summer mood of the descriptive poetry runs 
parallel with the summer mood in the love poems. The char- 
acteristic thing about this poetry is, that Storm has accom- 
plished what Heyse at that time was unable to do "das Sinn- 
liche von der Erde loslosen und gehorig durchgeistigen. " 

Letters 4 and 12 contain valuable theoretic material. In 
letter 4 Storm asserts that Morike was the first to give the 
"Idyll" a real poetic content. In letter 12 there is a discus- 
sion of the ' ' Idee im Marchen, ' ' an illustration of what Storm 
means by ' ' sinnliche Mitempfindung ' ' and a criticism of Jour- 
nalisten and Allegory in Art. One quotation from letter 4 is 
especially valuable: "Seit der Periode des ersten Buchs der 
Gedichte habe ich fest darauf gehalten nichts zu schreiben, 
was ich nicht mit meiner Personlichkeit vertreten konnte, was 
nicht im Verhaltnisz zu mir aus einer gewissen Nothwendig- 

keit entsprungen ware Es ist in der That dies Versema- 

chen, blosz urn etwas zu Markt zu bringen, etwas eines Man- 
nes so Unwiirdiges dasz es nicht zu oft und nicht zu hart zu- 
riickgewiesen werden kann." 

The most intelligent article that has been written on the 
work of Storm appears in three different numbers of the 
Euphorion, under the title, "Mimische Studien zu Theodor 
Storm, von J. Vlasimsky in Prag. ' ' The import of the whole 
study is to show that in the description of his characters 



266 Hildner 

Storm dwells upon the gestures of the hand and the move- 
ments of the eye. The hand plays the most important role. 
Lena Wies accompanies the telling of a story with certain 
gestures of the hand. The hand is used to heighten the vivid- 
ness of the person and the action. Reinhardt raises his hand 
in Immense to tell which way the wind blew. The gesture of 
stretching out both arms or hands is one that made a deep 
impression upon Storm when he saw it, and he applies it to 
his characters. He describes the habit of a pastor who moved 
his hand, as if he were moving it over the pulpit in the deli- 
very of a sermon. Another man "liesz die Hand wie eine 
Puppe gegen sich auf und abknixen. 

In one number of the Euphorion Vlasimsky confines 
himself exclusively to the discussion of the ' ' Handedruck. ' ' A 
passage from Storm will show the significance and the import- 
ance of this study. ' ' Ein nahes Verhaltnis f and wahrend mei- 
ner Jugend zwischen mir und meinen Eltern nicht statt. Ich 
entsinne mich nicht, dasz ich derzeit jemals von ihnen umarmt 
oder gekiiszt worden ware. Wir im Norden gehen iiberhaupt 
nicht oft iiber den Handedruck hinaus." "Sie werden die 
Worte, Liebe, Kusz etc. fast gar nicht in meinen Schriften 
finden." The passages containing variations of the gesture 
of the "Handedruck" have been carefully collected and com- 
pared. Obviously, this gesture is a personal and perchance a 
national Frisian peculiarity. It is especially frequent and 
effective in the ' ' Schimmelreiter, ' ' which more than any other 
short story has taken up the Frisian "Erdgeruch" and local 
color. The lovers in this story do not speak of love a single 
time, they do not kiss a single time, but the "Handedruck" 
is made to express their regard for each other at least 12 
times. It St. Jiirgen the aged Harre Jensen returning from 
the south to visit his old sweetheart Agnes Hansen grips and 
presses the hand of his young friend as the church tower of 
St. Jiirgen rises into view. A study of Storm's correspond- 
ence with Keller reveals the fact that there are many varia- 
tions of the thought "Ich driicke Ihnen herzlich die Hand" 
as a token of Storm's friendship for Keller whom he never 
saw. This gesture is never employed by Keller. Incidently 
V. combats very effectively the statement of R. M. Meyer. 
"Storm ist vielleicht der erste, der die kultivierte Psycholo- 
gic der Hand in die Erzahlung eingefiihrt hat" and proves 
conclusively that this honor ought to be given to Heinrich 
Heine. The third and last portion of V. 's article as it appears 
in the Euphorion deals with the "Mimik des Auges." He 
uses this artifice to reflect the same moods of his characters. 
The illustrations are so numerous that a feAv examples 
taken at random must suffice. "Sie konnten sich anschauen 



Seidel's Storms Brief e an Eggers and Storms Lyrik 267 

mit unendlichem Groll, aber mit noch unendlicherem 
Schmerz;" "Er verier sich stumm in ihren Augen, sie stand 

ihm gegeniiber, ohne Regung nur in ihren Augen im 

tiefsten Grunde, riihrte sich die Seele; er wuszte nicht was 
ihn anschaute. " " Sie sah an ihm vorbei in die Ferae ; " " er 
sah gespannt in die Feme. ' ' 

Walther Hermann 's book on Theodor Storm is a report on 
Theodor Storm's lyric poetry written for Prof. Koster's 
Seminar. After settling upon the chronological order of the 
poems, from Storm's works, manuscripts, first printed ver- 
sions, letters and internal evidence H. has tried to work out 
the story of the evolution of Storm 's lyric poetry and Storm 's 
theory of the lyric and his creative method. He has added an 
appendix which contains in addition to the chronological or- 
der of the poems already mentioned, a bibliography supple- 
mentary to that found in the second edition of Schiitze's 
Storm biography, a list of magazine editions in which his 
poems were first published with the dates, chronological list 
of variant readings, deviations of the new texts from the 
"Ausgabe letzter Hand" and an index of the poems. 

We can pass over quickly Hermann's remarks on Storm's 
early attempts at poetry, and the influence of Schiller, Eichen- 
dorff and Heine; his remarks on "das Liederbuch dreier 
Freunde" do not give us any important information. Her- 
mann tries to prove, (he cannot prove it conclusively, but the 
conclusions he arrives at are plausible), that some unhappy 
love experience or experiences are the basis for his youthful 
poetry. Storm does not yet appreciate the "nature" of his 
own country. The sea, the landscape of the coast, the heath, 
the moor do not appear, or are conventionalized. There are 
indications of mastery, but not full mastery. There is a 
wavering between the pompous and the simple style. His 
youthful verses reveal the influence of Eichendorff's treat- 
ment of nature, of Heine's "Weltschmerz" and most signifi- 
cantly Morike's simplicity and restraint of passion. 

In the period of 1843-1853 Storm becomes engaged to 
Constanze Esmarch (1844). The "unhappy love" theme 
disappears and the joy of being united with the loved one 
takes its place. There is left the quality of voluptuousness in 
his poems; it has become finer and more delicate. There is 
intense realism in a description he gives of death. Politics 
does not move him to write verses. His individualization of 
nature stamps this period more than anything else. His 
poetry is " Kiistenpoesie, " his favorite flower is the rose, in 
his descriptions are found swallows, the stork, insects, the fog. 
The sun appeals to him more than the sentimental moon and 
winter does not inspire him to write. Brevity is one of the 



268 Hildner 

marked characteristics of his style. The influence of Heine 
has decreased, that of Morike has increased. 

1853-1868 Storm is in exile. Most of his time is taken up 
with his lawyer's work. During this period of banishment 
from his beloved fatherland the political poems grow out 
of inner necessity; they are, as he himself says, "absichtslos 
aus innerin Drange entstanden." But in his relation to na- 
ture he could not find the strong emotional impulses which he 
needed for lyric composition. He was separated from the 
nature he knew. When the stimulus was gone his poetry 
ceased. Hermann notes another interesting fact. As Storm 
gradually lost the sense of smell, we find also a falling off of 
descriptions dealing with the sense of smell. 

The mood out of which the lyric poetry of his old age 
grows is expressed in the words of one of his stories. "Hu! 
Wie kommen und gehen die Menschen! Immer ein neuer 
Schub, und wieder : Fertig ! Rastlos kehrt und kehrt der un- 
sichtbare Besen und kann kein Ende finden. Woher kommt all 
das immer wieder, und wohin geht der graue Kehricht ? Auch, 
auch die zertretenen Rosen liegen dazwischen." During this 
period there are examples of almost brutal realism. 

The two chapters on the theory of the lyric and Storm's 
creative method are a disappointment, because they are not 
treated sympathetically and synthetically enough. We 
glean the following points from H.'s treatise. For Storm 
1) lyric poetry is the expression of a "seelenstimmung"; 2) 
Experience must be the basis for creative work; 3) Universal- 
ity is demanded, that is, the beautiful ; the characteristic and 
the ugly are all worthy of representation ; 4) Abnormal, patho- 
logical materials are excluded; 5) The form, i. e. the moulding 
of the material into form is more important than the ma- 
terial. 

Storm's method is briefly this: He uses an insignificant 
experience as a starting point or he combines two entirely 
separate experiences. Under the stress of emotion he uses 
the lyric form. The time which elapses between his exper- 
ience and the lyric composition is very brief. Then there 
may follow a period of careful nurture. So that Fontane 
was not wrong when he said the adjective "Stormsch" stood 
for fastidiousness and exquisite workmanship. 

University of Michigan. J. A. C. HILDNER. 



Braune's Althochdeutsche Grammatik 269 

ALTHOCHDEUTSCHE GRAMMATIK von Wilhelm Brau- 

ne. Dritte und vierte Auflage. Halle a. S. 1911. (Samm- 

lung kurzer Grammatiken Germanischer Dialekte heraus- 

gegeben von Wilhelm Braune). 

A new edition of B.'s Old High German Grammar has 
long been needed because the second edition was out of print ; 
as to changes in the text, few could have been suggested, and 
those few slight: like Whitney's Sanskrit Grammar, Braune 
is a classic, interesting even to read through from chapter to 
chapter, in practical use wonderfully complete and accurate. 
It is therefore surprising to find the new edition larger by 38 
pages of text and by somewhat closer printing than that of 
1891 : safe to say, no man living but Wilhelm Braune could 
have found so much to add. Aside from growth of bibliog- 
raphy and the like, the additions contain many useful facts 
and some that are highly important. To name them in full, 
if space permitted, would be to recount in detail the progress 
of OHG. research since 1891 ; mention shall here be made of 
only a few of the most important changes and of a very few 
points on which the present reviewer disagrees. 

In the matter of orthography Kauffmann's work has led 
to a sounder description of the development of OHG. spelling 
(7 and n. 3), and the valuable evidence of the Freisigen 
Church Slavic documents in German orthography is every- 
where applied. The Romance writing of o for w (105 n. 3), 
the gradual spread of k (142, with reference to Kauffmann), 
the use of the Romance ch instead of k, especially by Isidor 
(143 notes: the view was rejected for Is. in ed. 2), the OE. 
use of c- for k- (ch-) in the St. Gall Vocabulary (144 n. 2a), 
the Merovingian ch- for h- and the peculiarity of the use in 
literary OHG. of the letter h (151 n.2) are subjects of addi- 
tions. 152 n. 1 on superfluous writings of initial h has been 
greatly expanded by Garke's results (QF. 69). And so on. 

In 160 n.2, B. now mentions the tt for t between vowels 
of the Hildebrandslied, drawing Holtzmann's conclusion, that 
the MS. copied by our scribe must have had HG. zz. Simi- 
larly in 83 n. 3 : " hier ist einmischung ndd. formen in ein 
hd. original anzunehmen." B. has been slow to introduce his 
position on the Hildebrandslied into the Grammar: in this 
question his has always been the quiet but definite conduct 
of a man with the facts on his side. They are. 

To penetrate, through the veil of the orthography, to the 
facts of the OHG. pronunciation is a task that has busied Ger- 
man scholars in the last two decades more perhaps than any 
other OHG. problem. The approach from the rear, pre- 
Germanic phonology, is devious, though B. does not do it 
justice. In 24 n.2, B. still says that PGic. a and e coincide 



270 Bloomfield 

in Gothic, though Bethge (Dieter, Laut- und Formenlehre, 
p. 6) has taught us better. Similarly, the statement in 28 
n. 1 : " noch genau reimende mhd. dichter binden beide 
e nicht irn reime" has been outlawed by Zwierzina, ZfdA. 44, 
249: the matter is not one of technique but of dialect. The 
difference of vocalisrn between se, we and zwei, drei, screi 
is still stated as though both sounds had arisen in OHG. from 
an older uniform -ai (43n.3) ; yet B. makes reference to Walde 
and Franck, who both accept Kogel's well-proved view 
(-e < -ai; -ei < -ajj-). In 81, b, 2, B. omits reference added 
in the second ed.) to Bugge's hypothesis of spirant-voicing in 
initial position, though the resultant equation OHG. ga-, gi- = 
Lat., Celt, co-, com- has still good support; Wood compares 
NE. think, NDan. tcenke, etc., as opposed to NE. the, that 
thou, NDan. den, du, etc., where also the unaccented word 
voiced the initial spirant. In 82, b,l, B. still ignores the fact 
that final -z is preserved in OHG. in a number of words such 
as mir, er, etc., cf. Kluge, Vorgeschichte 151,n. 

The greatest fault in this respect is 95 n.2. After giving 
references for the origin of PGic. doubled stops, B. says: 
"Viele der friiher als assimilationen eines N-suffixes erklarten 
germ, geminaten werden jetzt wol richtiger als lautsymboli- 
sche verstarkungen bei intensivbildungen betrachtet. So die 
intensiven verba, wie zucken zu ziohan, lockon und die auf 
geminate ausgehenden koseformen der eigennamen ahd. 
Benno, Geppo u. a. ' ' Of course no sounds could be so expres- 
sive of "zucken" to a German-speaking person as those in the 
word zucken; to the English twitch says exactly what it means, 
and so on through the dictionary; but this is not linguistic 
history and will not account for origins. The models for the 
intensive verbs and the shortened names (note of course the 
w-inflection of the latter) with double consonants were, so far 
as we know, cases of w-assimilation ; where the ft -assimilation 
did not actually take place its results were imitated : the words 
were certainly not formed by some mystic symbolism to suit 
the idea. 

"Ausfall des r" is still assumed (120 n. 5) for OHG. 
spechan (OE. specan!) from sprechan, though there is no rea- 
son for identifying the two forms. They have been correctly 
explained in Beitr. 32,147 f. 

Aside from these few cases of over-conservatism though 
perhaps it is not for younger men to name phonetic results, 
especially where obtained by the philologic rather than the 
prehistoric method of attack, are fully included. The Franc, 
form ellies, dies for the adverb alles is cited (27n.6) in connec- 
tion with vowel-assimilation ; its value for the chronology 
(198n.2) must not be underestimated, for the isolated adverb 



Braune's Althochdeutsche Grammatik 271 

(cf. 295a,n.2) can hardly be considered analogic; indeed, 
Schatz's statement to the contrary (mentioned 118 n. 2) is 
refuted by the facts themselves. To 34 a note is added mark- 
ing the contrast between OHG. drunti, OS. drundi, OE. cerende 
and Olcel., MHG. erende : though the phenomenon is a com- 
mon vowel-variation, the note is decidedly tactful. For the 
relation of these words to Goth, aims, Olcel. drr, etc. see also 
Wood, IE. a, etc. 137,n. 38n.l deals with the vowel of do, 
excepted, owing to unaccented use, from the change o > uo, 
but so, a more decided case of the same phenomenon, is left to 
interrupt the discussion of PGic. au at 45n.6. The myster- 
ious first component of cu(o)niouuidi in the first Merseburg 
Charm and the Keronian Glosses is now treated as having 
long u (41n.2, cf. second ed. 32n. 6, where u), which accords 
with the metrical evidence. The anticipative ("psycholo- 
gical") theory of vowel-assimilation is now mentioned at 
51n.l : justly, for until the question shall have been definitely 
settled neither view should be ignored, above all not this one, 
energetically defended by such men as Rudolf Hildebrand 
and W. Wilrnanns. The note on the chronology of the process 
has also been expanded. The treatment of the earlier assimi- 
lations of e to i and of u to o (52n. 1) is also much more de- 
tailed than in the previous ed. ; Bremer's supposition of PGic. 
o (not u) and parallel change of e, o to i, u is not sufficiently 
appreciated, supported as it is by such facts at Lat. modius > 
OLG. muddi. The recent investigations on weakening and 
elision in OHG. of unaccented vowels (59n.2, 3, 61n.l), and 
on the final vowels of first members of compounds (62n.l, 
270n.2, 3) enrich the chapter on vocalism; and variability of 
accent in proclitic words is now fully treated (70 and notes). 

The treatment of the prefixes, like much else, has profited 
from Wilmanns' great work, see under zer-, in- (reference to 
Wilmanns 2, llln.l could well have been added), fur-, and 
&-. 

Under consonantisrn a note (83n.3) has been added on the 
alleged examples of OHG. tradition from the time before the 
sound-shift : a possible authenticity is conceded only to the 
Thuringian names in MSD 3 , p. XIII. In 87n.l the neces- 
sary concept of displacement of syllable-boundary is added to 
the description of the change of intervocalic t > zz etc. As a 
probable corollary Kogel's hypothesis of a phonetic develop- 
ment *skopes > skoffes but *skop > *skopf (and only by 
analogy skof for *skof) is accepted. 1 The acceptance of this 

1 Here B. holds the view that the shift of syllabication took place 
when the stop became aspirated; all we can surely say, however, is that 
it took place before the affricate stage was passed, for the affricate 
stage was reached even where no shift of syllabication took place, e. g. 
initially. 



272 Bloomfield 

view, which B. had rejected in the second ed. is an act of gen- 
uine scholarship. 

The vexed question as to stop or spirant value for Franc. 
b, g, the no less troublesome one as to actual difference in 
value between Upper German p, k : b, g are treated in 88n.2 
more fully than before ; with regard to the latter problem B. 
is now inclined to admit a difference (fortis: lenis) and a 
change in pronunciation corresponding with that in ortho- 
graphic habit. Similarly a number of variations in spelling 
fownerly distrusted are now phonetically interpreted, e. g. 
Upper German ch- for PGic. and modern k- (144n.7), loss of 
initial h in second members of compounds (153n.2), change 
of rht > rt as in Adalbertus (154n.5,b), d for Upper German 
t (=WGic. d) in the Keronian Glossary (163n.5), distinction 
of t: d in later OHG. (167n.8) the two latter contrary to 
Kauffman. This scholar's plausible explanation of the quei 
for zwei, and the like, in the Gl. Ker. is rejected (159n.5), B. 
preferring to suppose that the g-forms were actually spoken. 
Though we can no longer like Rietz connect them with Swed- 
ish dial, kwd, kvau, kvdnne, the Sw. forms are perhaps a sup- 
port for B.'s position. Kluge's claim that forms like OHG. 
nerian, nerigen are from the first trisyllabic is rejected 
(118n.3), though the quality of OHG. r speaks in its favor. 

The conditions in modern dialects and the internal consi- 
deration that OHG. d (= PGic.p) and not OHG. t (= WGic. 
d) is involved, have reversed the view of Notker's changes of 
initial consonant (103n.l,2) : lenis is now considered the nor- 
mal sound, which became fortis in sentence-initial and after 
unvoiced sounds. For the occasional change after -n of ini- 
tial t (= WGic. d) to d- Jellinek's explanation is quoted (nt 
> nd as in bint an > binden). OHG. so from older *swo 
is now mentioned in its place (107n.l), as is OMFranc. bit 
>mit (123n.3), for which one searched fruitlessly in the 
older eds. 

126n. 2, speaking of omission of internal n through care- 
less copying of writings in which the internal nasal was indi- 
cated by a dash above the preceding vowel, could well men- 
tion child, usere, etc. in the Hildebrandslied, where the LG. 
scribe ignored the sign wherever his dialect spoke no n- B. 
leaves these words for a separate note (n.5). The dissimila- 
tive character of the change cuning > cunig etc., though pat- 
ent (cf. Michels, Mhd. El., 103n.2) is only hinted at (12n.2). 

How was PGic. ng pronounced in the OHG. dialects ? The 
spellings like sprinet for springet (128n.3) may help to an- 
swer the question, which B. like the MHG. grammars ignores. 
We await the treatment promised in ZfdMa. 1908, p. 363. 



Braune's Althochdeutsche Grammatik 273 

A valuable addition to the phonology is the much fuller 
treatment of loan-words (31n.l,38, 41 here Ruma later Roma 
may be merely an orthographic change 114n.4, 137n.2, 
163n.8). 

In 163n.4 the Merseburg charms are now, on account of d 
= WGic. d assigned to Fulda, the DeHeinrico tentatively to 
NRhen. Franc. In connection with the former, reference 
should be made to ZfdA.36, 135 ff., where Wrede shows that 
the OHG. Tatian with t for WGic. d cannot represent the 
Fulda dialect. 

The chapters on inflection also have grown, mostly in in- 
creased and corrected registration of the uncommoner forms. 
Most worthy of notice, however are the added paragraphs 
about use of inflections, for instance a two-page survey of 
OHG. declension (192, a-f), including the summary of a dis- 
sertation on the instrumental. Equally valuable are the notes 
on the use of the adjective declensions and the predicate forms 
of the adjective (244n.2, 247n.l,2, 255n.3,4 where the idio- 
matic interpretation of the luttila .... barn passage of the 
Hildebrandslied is adopted: as no consonantal forms of brut 
are mentioned in 240, we suppose that B. reads prilti in bure, 
270n.l), on the use of the compound tenses and of the par- 
ticiples (301, notes), and on the value of gi- (323n.l). 

In the paradigms of the a and o declensions the n. and a. 
sg. are now consistently put into one line. The n. a. pi. of 
tag is now given as being regularly taga, with Notker's by- 
form tagd in brackets, cf. 193n.4, where the OHG. is inci- 
dentally explained as a PGic. n. rather than a. 

ahir, trestir are still quoted as examples of -ir throughout 
the declension without mention of the fact that the n. a. sg. 
must be analogic, since only the dropping of final -ir accounts 
for the inflection of kalb kelbir, etc. 

The hypothetical g. sg. gebd is still set up (207n.3), quite 
ungroundedly. B. puts it into his book apparently because he 
believes that it would be the phonetic OHG. representation of 
P.IE. -os; aside from the fact, however, that there is no ne- 
cessity to assume preservation of the phontic form, it is pro- 
bable that the latter would be -o rather than -a. In the actual 
g. sg. geba we have the result of substitution of simple for 
compound syllable-tone in pre-OHG., on the model, probably, 
of the n. and a. sg., cf. Beitr. 28, 508.513. Similarly the hypo- 
thesis of an older long u for the n. a. pi. N. herzun is retained 
(221n.4) from the second ed., though contrast with the double 
writings and Notker's circumflexed u of the F. zungun shows 
that the u of the N. was decidedly short. B. seeks evidence 
for his former long u in the contrast in Franc, between n. a. 
pi. M. hanon and n. a. pi. N. herzun; but the F. form just 



274 Becker 

quoted shows that the difference here is not of quantity: 
hanon < *-onez, but herzun comes probably from a *hertono 
with short penultimate on the model of all the other trisyllabic 
forms, M. and N., of this declension; *-ono > *-onu > -un; 
for a different explanation of the form cf. Streitberg Ug. Gr., 
p. 259. The OHG. result of a form with long o in the penul- 
tima, corresponding to Goth, hairtona is of course seen in 
theF. 

In the paradigms of the adj. the "uninflected" forms are 
now properly put first. The reflexive sih is still denied d. 
value, (282n.l), wdnit sih of Muspilli being taken as reflexive 
a., with ref. to Gebhardt's review of Schatz. The gafregin of 
the Wessobrunn Prayer is still described as an imitation of 
OE. sefrcvgn (343n.7). Since the OHG. however surely spoke 
gafreg(i)n ih (cf. meg ih, etc., 26n.3), we need here account 
only for the phonetically accurate spelling : it is in this con- 
nection that the OE.form could plausibly be mentioned, though 
the isolated nature of the OHG. word would suffice. gisa(a)z 
'sedet' of the Weissenburg Chatechism is explained (344n.3) 
as 'hat sich gesetzt': as this makes sense, the translator de- 
serves some credit; but it is still highly probable that he mis- 
took sedet, what with the surrounding verbs, for the perfect 
tense and then made the best of what seemed a queer pas- 
sage : otherwise he would have written sitzit. 

Though the new book makes a better appearance than the 
second edition, there are a few disturbing misprints, notably 
p. 20, 1.5 from bottom: weg, wego with "umlaut" e instead of 
double-dotted "old" e; p. 42, 1.2: for "274" read "271,4;" 
p. 43, 1.9 read tiufal; p. 101, 1.3 : for siir read sar; p. 177, 1.3 
read smalenoz; p. 229, 1.10, read sibene; 1.14 from bottom: 
for"289a"read"280a." 

University of Illinois. LEONARD BLOOMFIELD. 



INTRODUCTION TO PHILOSOPHY, by William Jeru- 
salem. Translated by Charles F. Sanders. Macmillan, 
New York, 1910. Pp. x -f 319. 

Teachers of philosophy and all who have a general philo- 
sophical interest will welcome William Jerusalem's Intro- 
duction to Philosophy in its English dress. The extraordinary 
vogue of the book in Germany is indicated by the fact that 
four editions were called for within ten years. Those who 
recall that the author is the translator of James 's Pragmatism 
into German, will come to the Introduction expecting much 
that is new and interesting, a standpoint different from the 
traditional school philosophy nor will they be disappointed. 
America has at last come into her own, even in the recognition 



W. Jerusalem's Introduction to Philosophy 275 

of the nation that has long regarded philosophy as its own 
special vocation, and the frequent references in this book to 
James, Dewey, Baldwin and Pierce, indicate the remarkable 
change that has recently taken place. For the third edition of 
Jersulamen's Einleitung, which appeared in 1906, had none 
of these references. In 1906 William James was known in 
Germany primarily as a pedagogist owing to the wide cir- 
culation of the translation of his Talks to Teachers, second- 
arily as a psychologist, and not at all as a philosopher. The 
word Pragmatism carried no meaning, though in America, 
discussions about it had been raging for ten years, and the 
beginning of the new philosophy could, after all, be traced to 
Germany. It was in 1908, the year of the translation of 
James's Pragmatism, and of the International Congress of 
Philosophy at Heidelberg, that brought the sudden change; 
the year when the present, the fourth edition of this work 
appeared. And it is no accident that William Jerusalem, th& 
psychologist and pedogogist should have been its leader. 

The problem before one who would write an introduction 
to philosophy is far more difficult than that which is pre- 
sented by an introduction to any other science. Objective 
treatment, clearness, and brevity are demanded. The two 
latter demands have seemed particularly difficult for philos- 
ophers; the first, almost impossible. Yet just these three 
characteristics are those which mark this book. That philos- 
ophy shall be both empirical and scientific, that in philosophy, 
clearness and profundity shall not be irreconcilable oppo- 
sites, are the requirements which the author held before him- 
self. And while justice is rendered to opposing doctrines and 
the big problems are not treated as settled, we are given a 
presentation of philosophy, not a christomathy of philosophies. 

Logic and psychology are discussed as propaedeutic dis- 
ciplines, and philosophy proper is divided in the customary 
way into theory of Knowledge, Metaphysics, Aesthetics and 
Ethics. The old classification is justified by the fact of the 
tripartite functioning of consciousness as cognition, feeling, 
and will, with Theory of Knowledge and Metaphysics as sub- 
divisions of the philosophy of cognition, aesthetics as the 
philosophy of feeling, and ethics as the philosophy of the will. 
Throughout, the basis of the discussion is empirical and psy- 
chological, with emphasis on the social factors, which in the 
past have generally been ignored, except in ethics. In epis- 
temology, critical idealism is shown to be an "hypertrophy 
of the cognitive impulse," which makes it imperative that we 
return to a commonsense view, and regard the world and its 
inhabitants as self-active, independent beings, whose exist- 
ence is independent of the cognizing subject. The author's 



276 Becker 

own epistemology, approaches that of pragmatism genetic 
and biological epistemology, he calls it. Knowledge issues 
from the impulse of self preservation, and through our cen- 
tral organization, the processes of our environment are changed 
from the language of nature into that of man. The fundamen- 
tal form and primary conditions of all human knowledge are 
not transcendental, but fundamental apperceptions. Kant's 
discovery was really psychological and empirical. 

In the chapter on Metaphysics especial attention is given 
to the views of Mach and Avenarius, as the type of monism, 
which, being empirical, comes nearest to solving the problem 
of the nature of reality. Here is one out of many indications 
of the newness and freshness of treatment which is presented 
so abundantly. But after all, the author's leanings are to- 
wards dualism. Mind and matter are too fundamentally un- 
like to be reconciled. A theistic interpretation is supported as 
best satisfying our demand for a total view of the universe 
after the analogy of our own fundamental apperception and 
will. 

The greatest innovation for such a brief work is the amount 
of space given to aesthetics, and the fact of aesthetic taste is 
cited as the best proof that feeling is a distinct and funda- 
mental function of consciousness. Aesthetics has been hither- 
to largely speculative and deductive; it is becoming genetic, 
biological and social. But as yet, the speculative method is 
not superseded with anything like the completeness that has 
taken place in psychology. It is to historical, experimental, 
and analytical methods, however, that we must look for the 
establishment of aesthetic law. Aesthetic pleasure is a dis- 
tinct kind of functional delight, which is brought about by 
contemplation. The objects which incite this functional de- 
light we style beautiful. Beauty is therefore relative, dif- 
ferent objects furnish functional delight to different individ- 
uals, to different periods, to different races. But there are 
works of art which have been characterized as beautiful for 
thousands of years, and by people of widely diversified char- 
acters, and we are justified in ascribing objective beauty to 
those productions because they tend to discharge functional 
pleasure in contemplation to multitudes of individuals. This 
is found especially true in works of art which represent that 
which is typical. Indeed, the presentation of the typical con- 
stitutes almost the essence of artistic production; and here 
we see the biological bearing of art ; the idea of a type origin- 
ates directly from the demands of life; is the antecedent of 
every abstract idea. 

The sixth division of the book is devoted to ethics and 
sociology. That the two should thus be linked together, al- 



A. 8. Cook's Concordance to Beowulf 277 

ready gives the key-note of the discussion to follow. The 
treatment is genetic and sociological. Two psychological 
facts are found to be the basis of the moral life; moral judg- 
ment of the conduct of others, and conscience, the moral 
judgments before and after our own volitional choices. Moral 
judgment may be defined as the "evaluation of an act in its 
social significance." However, with the development of cul- 
ture, the general disposition of the individual becomes of 
greater social significance than the particular act. As the full 
compliance with moral obligations depends not only on the 
good will of the individual, but in a large measure on the 
social order in which he lives, it becomes the duty of scien- 
tific ethics to examine the social order and see to what extent 
it is adapted to the true conditions of life. Thus ethics passes 
over into sociology. 

Throughout the whole volume, the claims of philosophy 
as an independent and necessary science are vigorously de- 
fended, and the possibility of establishing a comprehensive 
theory of the universe vindicated; a theory which is harmo- 
nious and consistent; "a world theory, moreover, which is 
adopted to satisfy the requirements of the understanding, and 
the demands of the heart." 

University of California. F. C. BECKER. 



A CONCORDANCE TO BEOWULF, compiled by Albert S. 
Cook, Professor of the English Language and Literature 
in Yale University. Halle, Max Niemeyer. 1911. Pp. 436. 
The Beowulf is surely coming into its own. Every con- 
ceivable aspect of it has enlisted the attention of eager inves- 
tigators, and such a vast mass of "literature" has gradually 
grown up around it, that an entirely complete bibliography, 
if not an impossibility, is to be counted anything but a desi- 
deratum. Now the venerable poem receives the singular dis- 
tinction of the publishing of an excellent concordance, and it 
is a pleasure to note that this labor of love has been under- 
taken by the founder and president of the Concordance So- 
ciety, who is also known as one of the most tireless workers 
in the field of Old English literature. Thus we are enabled to 
test in a practical way, in connection with our study of the 
Beowulf, the usefulness of this kind of compilation which was 
so eloquently set forth by Professor Cook (in 1906) in his ad- 
dress to the Modern Language Association of America (see 
Mod. Lang. Notes xxii, 33-35). 

The word and phrase collection contained in this beauti- 
fully printed volume has been made strictly complete within 
certain limits. Excepting some of the commoner words, such 



278 Klaeber 

as the numerals, prepositions, many pronouns, conjunctions, 
and adverbs, which have not been included, each occurrence 
of every word is listed, and all the passages are quoted at suf- 
ficient length to show the nature of the context. Difference of 
opinion may be found regarding the differentiation of homo- 
nymous words and the method of orthographic normalization 
to be adopted in such a work. I for one should have preferred 
in a number of instances to recognize difference of meaning 
instead of making the mere form the decisive test of iden- 
tity. To illustrate, under ciifte we find cited not only the pre- 
terite of cunnan, but also various forms of the adjective cuft; 
ealdor 'chief and ealdor 'life' as well as ceht 'possession' and 
ceht ' pursuit ' are treated under the same heading ; sift, adverb 
(in cer ond sift) is not separated from the noun (nom. ace. 
sing.) sift. On the other hand, two distinct headings are pro- 
vided for such pairs as scece and scecce, efnan and cefnan, 
efnde and cefnde, also wlenco and wlence, though the use of 
the phrase for wlenco (-e) is exactly the same in the three pas- 
sages concerned. 

The accuracy of the work leaves little to be desired. In 
the course of a rather extensive examination scarcely any 
errors have been noticed. The quotation freawine folca 2357 
has been changed to freawine folces and inserted under folces 
instead of under folca, where two other cases of this combina- 
tion are found. Several other instances of the noun noes: 
1600, 2898 (3031) should be added on p. 300. A few typo- 
graphical errors like syfore (for syfone) on p. 9, or abrced, 
cenllcu, wolde (under aglcecan), dwd are easily corrected. 

Some slight improvements could have been made if the 
author had not considered it his duty to adhere religiously to 
the text of Wyatt's edition. This conservative attitude is of 
course perfectly proper and, on the whole, even necessary, 
but in some individual cases (e. g., deog, renweardas, wende 
Ipces yldan) it is certainly regrettable. A deviation from 
Wyatt's punctuation could well have been risked in 1. 2630 
(Wlglaf maftelode wordrihta fela), for a glance at the nu- 
merous other examples of maftelode (p. 281 f.) shows that the 
verb maftelian is invariably used absolutely, an interesting 
illustration, by the way, of the practical value of a concord- 
ance. 

In the Preface we are informed that this concordance was 
originally prepared as the first instalment of a concordance 
to the entire body of Old English poetry. Whether that pre- 
tentious scheme will ever be carried out, it would be hazardous 
to predict, especially as it involves problems quite different 
from the contemplated rejuvenation of the old Grein. In 



Folknamnet Geatas i den Fornengelska Dikten Beowulf 279 

the meantime let us be grateful for this generous contribution 
to the ideal complete thesaurus. FR. KLAEBER. 

The University of Minnesota. 



FOLKNAMNET GEATAS I DEN FORNENGELSKA DIK- 
TEN BEOWULF, af Henrik Schtick. Upp- 
sala, 1907. 

This monograph is a spirited refutation of Fahlbeck's 
theory, supported by Bugge, that the Geats mentioned in 
Beowulf were inhabitants of Jutland. Professor Schiick argues 
that the Geats were identical with the Northern Gautar, 
Swedish Gotar, who, according to his evidence, occupied the 
region of Sweden corresponding roughly to Vastergotland, 
Bohuslan, and Northern Halland. He maintains that, since 
Geatas is philologically the same as Gotar and the term does 
not designate the Jutes, and, since the events of the poem are 
more easily localized in Sweden than in Jutland, the burden 
of proof is on Fahlbeck, whose evidence, he declares, is not 
conclusive. 

Fahlbeck's theory, it will be remembered, is that the Anglo- 
Saxons used two different terms for the Jutes, namely ' ' Iotas ' ' 
or "Eotas" and "Geatas"; that they were used contempor- 
aneously; and that "Iotas," which was the later, gradually 
took the place of the older word "Geatas." Fahlbeck cites 
Alfred's translation of Bede's Ecclesiastical History, I, chap. 
15, where "Saxonibus, Anglis, Jutis" is rendered "Of Seax- 
um, and of Angle, and of Geatum." In the Anglo-Saxon 
Chronicle the corresponding passage is translated "Of Ald- 
seaxum, of Anglum, of lotum." Alfred in his translation of 
Bede, IV, chap. 16, renders "in proximam lutorum provin- 
ciam" as "on \>a nehmmftye, seo is %ecyd Eota land." Schiick 
insists that of the two words "Geatas" and "Iotas" the lat- 
ter is philologically the same as Jutes, and besides is the 
word used in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. Consequently he 
thinks it strange that a man should lay stress on the rendition 
"Geatas" used by Alfred. He emphasizes the fact that Al- 
fred contradicts himself, and he further discredits him as an 
authority on geographical names by showing that in the nar- 
rative of Ohthere in the translation of Orosius he calls Jut- 
land Gotland, while in the narrative of Wulfstan Gotland is 
used for the island of Gottland. 

Fahlbeck saw an eponym for the race in Nennius's genea< 
logy, where Geat stands at the head of the lists of kings which 
ends in Hengest and Horsa. But Schiick replies that fantas- 
tic genealogies are untrustworthy as evidence, and besides, 
that the context shows clearly that this is a reference to Odin, 



280 Freeburg 

Gaut being one of his names. Again, Fahlbeck cites one of 
the laws of Edward the Confessor: "Guti vero similiter, cum 

veniunt, suscipi debent et protegi in regno isto 

Ita constituit Ina rex Anglorum.'" He thinks this "Guti" 
refers to the Geats, but states no reasons for his inference. 
Schiick maintains that it is easier to read "Guti" as a mis- 
take for "Juti." But, if it is to be read literally, he gives 
some circumstantial evidence which leads him to believe that 
it more probably meant ' ' Gutar, ' ' the people of Gottland. 

From the linguistic questions Schiick turns to Fahlbeck 's 
geographical reasons for believing that the Geats were not 
the people of Vastergotland. Fahlbeck argued that since 
Vastergotland was not a maritime nation in 1000 A. D., the 
earlier limit of our information, it was probably not maritime 
at the time of the events described in Beowulf. Besides, he 
says, the capital and metropolis has, as far as we know, always 
been Skara, and this is not near the sea. Schiick ridicules the 
contention that the Vastergotar probably did not change their 
boundaries during a period of 500 years, and proceeds to ad- 
duce evidence that Vastergotland once had a seacoast as far 
north as Svinesund, and as far south as Warberg. He quotes 
from chapters 14, 16, and 18 of the saga of Harald Fair-Hair 
to prove that Harald conquered Vastergotland north to Svine- 
sund, east to Lake Wener, south to Gota River, and west to the 
sea. This took place about 800 A. D. The seacoast thus con- 
quered by Norway corresponds roughly to modern Bohuslan. 
Schiick finds corroborative evidence in chapter 51 of the 
Tnglinga Saga, where the waters on that coast line are called 
the Gautish Sea. 

To fix the southern boundary Schiick quotes from Adam 
of Bremen, Book IV, chap. 23, to show that modern Halland 
once belonged to Vastergotland, and that from Skane at the 
South to Skara in Vastergotland was a journey of seven days. 
According to Noreen (V&rt Sprak, I, 99 seq. and 546) the 
South Swedish dialect, originally Danish, was separated from 
the Middle Swedish dialect, of which " Vastgb'tskan " is a 
group, by a line drawn from the vicinity of Warberg in a 
north easterly direction. Consequently, since this was the 
linguistic boundary of Vastergotland, it was doubtless the 
political and ethnographical boundary as well. With such a 
coast line Vastergotland might well be considered a maritime 
nation, and one of Fahlbeck 's strongest objections to the 
"Vastgota" theory is overcome. 

Another of Fahlbeck 's objections to the old theory was 
that the royal seat of the Geats was near the sea, but that to 
the best of our knowledge Skara has always been the capital 
of Vastergotland. Further, a large island lay near the capi- 



Folknamnet Geatas i den Fornengelska Dikten Beowulf 281 

tal, for he insists on translating "ealand utan" (2334) as "an 
island outside." Just why it must be considered a large 
island is not clear. This island he believed might have been 
Fyen. Schiick prefers Bugge 's translation of "ealand" as 
"waterland," meaning coastland. But if the word does mean 
"island," it might refer to one of the many isles off the west- 
ern coast of Sweden. Furthermore, the royal residence need 
not necessarily have been in a large city. From the poem we 
learn that the residence of Beowulf was near enough to ' ' Ear- 
nanaes" to permit his walking there, and far enough away to 
necessitate a guide. Schiick shows that this "Earnanees" 
might have become the medieval Aranas, and that Beowulf 
might have lived at Kungsbacka, which is near the site of 
this village. A royal castle was situated at Kungsbacka in 
about 1366, and the place may have been a royal seat in earlier 
days. 

Fahlbeck attached some significance to the word "Veder" 
in "Vedergeatas" and "Vedera land." "Veder" is the same 
as German "Wetter" and Swedish "Vader." He maintains 
that Jutland may appropriately be called " storm -land, " but 
that the designation does not apply to Vastergotland. Schiick 
reminds us that Fahlbeck has located the royal residence in 
Eastern Jutland near the island Fyen, and that the name 
"storm-land" is not descriptive of this part of the peninsula; 
and that on the other hand the old Vastergotland, as has been 
shown above, had a long coastline exposed to the winds of the 
high seas. Furthermore, it is important to note that the 
name "Veder" still remains in the Vader islands (Vader- 
6'arne) off this coast. 

The swimming match of Beowulf and Breca is next dis- 
cussed. Breca was driven by wind and sea to the "Heatho- 
reamas," and Beowulf to "Finna land." Fahlbeck thought 
that "Finna land" meant either Fyen or Finn's land in 
Friesland. Schiick remarks that on linguistic grounds neither 
translation can be accepted, nor does the geography fit the 
facts in the case. "Reamas" means the Raumar, whose 
realm, according to the poem, must have extended to the 
sea, and Breca was driven ashore in Christiana bay. Now, 
according to Fahlbeck, Beowulf landed either at Fyen or 
Friesland. If the race began from the royal residence hypo- 
thetically placed opposite Fyen, neither landing would fit the 
facts as stated, for Fyen is too near, and Friesland is on the 
other side of Jutland. Schiick believes that "Finna land" 
was Finnheden in modern Smaland. Bugge had rejected this 
translation on the ground that Finnheden did not reach to the 
sea. But Bugge inferred from the poem that the kingdom 
of the "Reamas" extended to the sea, hence we may infer 



282 Freeburg 

the same thing concerning Finnheden. Schiick suggests that 
the race might have begun at Kungsbacka, where he conjec- 
tures Beowulf may have resided, and that Breca finally landed 
near Fredriksstad and Beowulf near Laholm. 

Those who hold the Jutic theory have always sought their 
stronghold in the statements that the wars between the Geats 
and the Swedes were fought across the sea. But the phrases 
"ofer SOB," "ofer wid water," "ofer heafo," etc., may just 
as well apply to the inland waters of Sweden as to the high 
sea. 1 That this inland water traffic was extensive is sup- 
ported by many citations. According to Gustaf Styffe, Skan- 
dinavien under Unionstiden, p. 95, the inland traffic of Swe- 
den even as late as the 16th and 17th centuries was carried on 
chiefly over the lakes and rivers, and portages were frequently 
made. A detailed account from Thomson's Kyska Riket's 
Orundl'dggning describes the methods by which the Swedes 
brought their boats from Novgorod, Russia, down the Dnieper 
River to Constantinople. Schiick also mentions many interest- 
ing Viking exploits. For example, in 885 the Northmen 
brought a fleet of 700 ships up the Seine as far as Paris. Here 
they were checked, but made a portage around the city and 
finally pushed by ship as far as Burgundy. These and a 
number of similar cases cited make it pretty clear that dur- 
ing the 9th and 10th centuries inland water traffic with port- 
ages was common. Now, since the ships of the 6th century 
were doubtless lighter than those of the 9th, it does not seem 
at all improbable that the Swedes in modern Uppland at- 
tacked the Geats in modern Vastergotland over the waters 
lying between. 

The course which the Swedes might have pursued in mak- 
ing this attack is given as follows: From Lake Malar and 
Roslagen to the Motala River. A portage could be made 
around the rapids at the mouth of the Motala River. Then 
up the Motala River to Lake Glan ; by the Motala River again 
to Lake Roxen ; then up the river again through Lakes Norrby 
and Rosen; and finally into Lake "Wetter. Then by crossing 
Lake Wetter the Swedes would have been at the Eastern 
boundary of Geatland. Had they wished to be more aggres- 
sive they might have proceeded by way of Lakes Vik and Orl, 
then, after a portage of about one kilometre, into the Tida 
River, and thence into Lake Wener. And finally they might 
even have proceeded down the Gota River to the high sea. 

The rest of Schiick 's monograph contains some bits of 
evidence in favor of his theory. First, the close relations be- 

1 Farther on in the monograph it is shown that Ansgarius thought 
Sweden was a group of islands and called the lakes "interjacentia 
maria." 



Kock's Svensk Ljudhistoria 283 

tween the Geats and the Swedes indicate that they were 
neighbors. They were often at war ; Swedish political refugees 
fled to the Geats ; and even Beowulf and his kinsman Wiglaf 
seem to have been descended from a Swedish house. Second, 
assuming that the Geats and the Jutes were the same, it seems 
strange that these people should have had no dealings with 
their neighbors, the Saxons. But if the Geats and the Gauts 
were identical, their distance from the Saxons would explain 
the silence concerning them. Third, if the ' ' Geatas ' ' were the 
Jutes, the "Dene," the Danes, the "Sweon," the Swedes, 
where were the Gauts? How is it that the constant relations 
between the Danes, Jutes, and Swedes never involved the 
Gauts ? 

Finally, the natural setting of the events in Beowulf ex- 
plicitly demands high cliffs, a mountain stream, a cave, and an 
elevation for " Beowulf es beorh." This topography is not to 
be found in Jutland, especially not in the region where Fahl- 
beck localized the events, but on the contrary it is character- 
istic of the coast of Halland, Vastergotland, and Bohuslan. 

Into the validity of Professor Schiick's arguments we can- 
not at present enter. It is enough to say that they demand 
careful consideration, not only for their own sake, but because 
they place the points at issue clearly before us. The matter 
cannot be too thoroughly sifted, for a decision in regard to 
the location of these peoples is of great importance to students 
of early Germanic literature. 

VICTOR OSCAR FREEBURG. 

College of the City of New York. 



SVENSK LJUDHISTORIA. Av Axel Kock. Forsta Delen, 
Pp. 504, Lund, 1906. Andra Delen, Forra Halften, Pp. 
240, 1909. Senare Halften, Pp. 241-429, 1911. 

No part of the field of Germanics is at present cultivated 
more extensively or with greater success than the Swedish 
language in its earlier periods. The material that has been 
issued, principally from the Universities of Upsala and Lund, 
during the last decade and a half has been so extensive in 
quantity and so important in its nature as to make the period 
epoch-making for the historical study of the Swedish lan- 
guage. And in this work it is the name of Kock that we meet 
with most often, it is contributions by him that form the mile- 
stones of progress in the research into the past of Swedish. In 
the Arkiv for nordisk Filologi, of which he is Editor-in-chief, 
there have, to mention only recent ones, appeared articles on 
U-Breaking, volume XIX, Word-Formation, vol. XXI, Ety- 
mological Studies, volumes XX, and XXIV, Sixteenth Cen- 



284 Flom 

tury Swedish, vol. XXV, and a series of shorter investigations 
in vol. XXII and elsewhere. To other Swedish periodicals 
he has made frequent contributions as e. g. Historisk Tidskrift, 
XXV, 1-23 in which he treats the question : Mr Skane de ger- 
manska folkens urhem?" and in Nordisk Tidskrift for 1908 
upon.- "Svenskans forbattring och forsamring under de 
senaste arhundradena. " In addition to this he has published 
several volumes some of them of considerable extent, as Sprdk- 
historiska Under sokningar om Svensk Akcent in two parts, 
Studier ofver fornsvensk Ljudldra also in two parts, and 
Under sokningar i svensk Sprdkhistoria. But he has also often 
gone beyond the field of Swedish proper into West Scandi- 
navian, and general Germanic as in the articles on the sound- 
combination aiw, Arkiv, XX, a-umlaut, Arkiv, XXVI, stud- 
ies on some words in the Elder Edda, Arkiv, XXVII, (pages 
107-140), and in various contributions in Beitrdge zur Ge- 
schichte der deutschen Sprache, as e. g. one on " Vokalbalance 
im altfriesischen," XIX, 175-193. 

Professor Kock's principal work, however, is the present 
one, the first volume of which was published in 1906. In this 
work he attempts nothing less than to offer a historical pre- 
sentation of Swedish sounds from their Germanic equivalents, 
through the runic period, with special emphasis upon the 
Middle-age period, down to and including New Swedish. It 
is planned to issue the work in five volumes to be supplemented 
by an introductory survey of the development of the Swedish 
language. Such an exhaustive treatise upon a subject that 
in the main is wholly technical w r ould seem to be a monumental 
task for anyone to undertake. For we must bear in mind 
that it involves familiarity with the literature upon primi- 
tive Germanic and general Germanic grammar, the runes and 
the runic inscriptions, Old Norse and Old Danish and the state 
of philologic research in Scandinavian in general in addition 
to the language with which he is immediately dealing. But 
when we know that a very considerable proportion of the re- 
search that had to be carried on before the writing of such 
a work was possible has been done by Kock himself it becomes 
truly remarkable that he should have been able to undertake 
it and, what is more, to have succeeded in completing and 
issuing nearly half of it (for Part I of vol. Ill is in press) in 
so short a time. 

Among the most important aids to such a study the author 
makes due acknowledgement in the preface to the especially 
valuable lexical work of Schlyter and Collin-Schlyter, to 
Noreen's Altschwedische Grammatik (1904, Pp. 602) and Alt- 
isldndische Grammatik (3rd ed. 1903, Pp. 418), and particu- 
larly to the work of Soderwall, whose great dictionary of 



Kock's Svensk Ljudhistoria 285 

Middle-age Swedish has become indispensable to all workers in 
the history of Swedish, as Fritzner's for Old Norse and Kal- 
kars for Old and Middle Danish. In his subdivisions of the 
language into periods Kock adheres to the one adopted in 
his Fornsvensk Ljudlara, II, pages 499 ff. in 1886. Accord- 
ing to this the two main divisions, Old Swedish and New 
Swedish, are again subdivided so that the former consists of 
three and the latter of two divisions, i. e. oldest, early and late 
Old Swedish and early and late New Swedish. Old Swedish 
I is the period of the inscriptions, II, the period of the laws, 
1200-1350, III, the period of standard Old Swedish, 1350- 
1525. Older New Swedish extends down to 1700. The motives 
for retaining these divisions Kock promises to discuss again in 
the introductory survey of the language. While linguistic 
grounds justify this five-fold division and while it certainly 
is convenient also to be able thus to identify the different per- 
iods with certain groupings of the material, it does seem to 
me that its complexity is a disadvantage. Why not adopt a 
three-fold division as is done in English and German and as 
is coming to be done in Norwegian? It matters not that they 
do not coincide in point of time. The new features that begin 
to appear in Swedish from 1350 on are sufficiently numerous 
to set the next 150 years or more distincely apart as a tran- 
sition period, and why not call this translation period Middle 
Swedish and that before Old Swedish? I firmly believe that 
the introduction of the threefold division here too would be a 
distinct advantage. 

In Part I Kock presented the development of the vowels 
i, e, a, a, a, o, y, long and short and in Part II, 1 o, o, and u. 
In II, 2, is accounted for in the same detailed manner the diph- 
thongs ai, au, oy, io, ia, id, iu, and io. The starting point 
is the evidence offered by the runic inscriptions, general Scan- 
dinavian forms are cited extensively wherever they reflect 
Swedish speech. It is the author's intention to treat the 
question of vowel-quantity in a separate chapter and he has 
therefore limited the discussion of the vowels for the present 
to their quality. He emphasizes the vowels of syllables with 
strong and half strong stress; vowels of unstressed syllables 
are treated only incidentally as these have been treated sys- 
tematically by the author elsewhere. Similarly the question 
of accent is omitted, the student being here referred to the 
author's works on Swedish accent, of which Die alt- und neu- 
schwedische Accentuierung is probably best known to Amer- 
ican philologists. The author goes beyond literary Swedish 
in the discussion of almost every vowel and here he is able to 
make good use of the vast storehouse of material published in 
Bidrag till Kdnnedom om svenska Landsmdlen, issued by the 



286 Law 

dialect societies of Upsala, Helsingfors and Lund and to which 
Kock himself has been a frequent contributor. And so local 
departures from standard speech are also taken account of. 
Here particular emphasis is laid upon the features that char- 
acterise the dialect of Gothland, philologically so interesting 
because in many respects so archaic (retention of the diph- 
thongs) and because in its changes it shows a development 
peculiarly its own, linguistically a West Scandinavian island 
in East Scandinavian territory. Finally the loan element is 
constantly given attention, the development of the vowels of 
the borrowed words and cases of possible influence of these 
upon native Swedish words. 

As has been noted the first part of volume III is already in 
press; it will contain a survey of umlaut and breaking in 
Swedish. This will then be followed by a discussion of vowel 
quantity ; the final volumes will present the history of the con- 
sonants. GEORGE T. FLOM. 

University of Illinois. 



EXAMINATION OF TWO ENGLISH DRAMAS: "THE 
TRAGEDY OF MARIAM," BY ELIZABETH CAREW; 
AND "THE TRUE TRAGEDY OF HEROD AND AN- 
TIPATER, WITH THE DEATH OF FAIRE MAR- 
RIAM," BY GERVASE MARKHAM AND WILLIAM 
SAMPSON. = By Arthur Cyril Dunstan, Konigsberg v. 
Pr., 1908 ; pp. 98. 

This is a doctorate dissertation from Albertus University, 
Konigsberg, and has to do with two little known dramatic ver- 
sions of the Herod story. The work, if not brilliant, is marked 
by sanity and really contributes much to present knowledge of 
these interesting examples of Elizabethan tragedy. A brief 
introduction shows how both dramas have been neglected by 
other critics, and summarizes two accounts of the Herod- 
Mariamne incidents as related by Josephus, the immediate 
source of each drama. The Jewish Antiquities was drawn on 
chiefly for both plays, but the Herod and Antipater was 
also indebted to the Jewish War, and both tragedies show some 
independence in treatment of characters and plot. Each 
drama is then examined separately in some forty pages deal- 
ing with authorship, text, metre, content, source, characteriza- 
tion, structure, and style. A short conclusion declares that 
neither play influenced the later tragedies on the same subject. 

One virtue of the dissertation is that its author makes no 
claim to having accomplished more than he has done, nor does 
he lose perspective so as unduly to magnify the importance of 



Dun-stands Examination of two English Dramas 287 

the subject under discussion. Facts and opinions are stated 
with becoming modesty. 

A perennial question with reference to the Mariam is 
the identity of its author. Convincing evidence establishes 
her name as Elizabeth Carew, but whether she was the elder 
Lady Carew, to whom her kinsman, Spenser, dedicated his 
Muiopotmos and addressed a sonnet, or whether she was 
Elizabeth, daughter to that lady and afterwards wife to Sir 
Thomas Berkeley, is still a subject of dispute. Professor 
Schilling's Elizabethan Drama, a book which was published 
too recently for Dr. Dunstan to use, mentions the question 
and favors the mother's claims. 1 Dr. Dunstan makes out 
a strong case for the daughter on the score of an allusion to 
her as Diana in a sonnet referring to this play, while the 
mother's maiden name was Spencer, not Elizabeth Carew. 
The only difficulty with this theory is a further allusion to a 
brother of the authoress in the same sonnet, while the younger 
Carew was an only child. Mr. Dunstan 's gloss on "brother" 
as meaning "future brother-in-law" does not carry convic- 
tion. 

In the same connection a possible explanation of another 
difficulty may be ventured. Nash referring to the younger 
Lady Carew, exclaims, "Into the Muses societie herself she 
hath latelie adopted and purchast divine Petrarch another 
monument in England. ' ' Dr. Dunstan comments, ' ' This seems 
to refer to some translation of Petrarch which the younger 
E. C. wrote, of which no copy is to be found. ' ' But surely in 
an age which knew and imitated so well the sonnets to Laura, 
"a monument to Petrarch" might mean merely a collection 
of sonnets. And that Lady Carew wrote certain sonnets which 
were known to Nash, Dr. Dunstan himself declares on p. 13. 

The date of composition for the Mariam is placed near 
1600, when its author may have been betrothed but not mar- 
ried. But the fact that it is written in alternate rime, dbab 
cdcd, and contains several sonnets in the familiar rime scheme 
used by Shakespeare, suggests a somewhat earlier date, nearer 
1595, and before blank verse was so generally used in tragedy. 
Romeo and Juliet, for example, contains much evidence of ex- 
perimentation with rime, and it belongs not far from 1595. 
Written in the same alternate riming is Brandon's Virtuous 
Octavia, recently reprinted by the Malone Society, and prob- 
ably composed two or three years before its first printing in 
1598. 

That Mariam is a true Senecan tragedy of close kin to 
the Oorboduc, the analysis of the play proves beyond ques- 
tion. But Mr. Dunstan nowhere shows acquaintance with Pro- 

1 Vol. ii, p. 8. 



288 Law 

fessor Cunliffe's Influence of Seneca on Elizabethan Tragedy 
the classic work on that subject. 

Herod and Antipater, published nearly a decade after 
the Mariam, seems nevertheless to be a cruder play. The 
metre of many lines cited evinces special ruggedness. Amidst 
his discussion of metre, p. 60, and again at p. 76, Dr. Duns- 
tan emends one misprinted verse. The line as originally 
printed runs : 

"Who lives the lives the longest still must end in death." 
His proposed emendation is to carry "in death" to the 
next verse, which would then still be short of syllables. But 
does not the misprint rather consist in doubling the words 
' ' lives the, ' ' which are altogether tautological when repeated ? 

Only one other detailed point can be mentioned. The vil- 
lain of the second play is Antipater, Herod's bastard son, in 
whom Dr. Dunstan sees some resemblance to Shakespeare's 
Richard the Third. But the lines cited tempt one to suggest 
a closer likeness in the Edmund of King Lear. Like Edmund 
Antipater first plots against his father's legitimate offspring, 
falsely accusing them of filial ingratitude, and then after 
causing their ruin, turns against his father in the desire to 
succeed to his titles. Apparently successful at first, he is 
finally entrapped and dies in misery about the same time as 
his father. 

This general similarity of situation lends color to the 
possible charge of borrowed phrasing in two passages from the 
Herod and Antipater. On p. 81 Mr. Dunstan quotes the latter 
play: 

' ' Ho were 

By birth I am a bastard, yet my wit 
Shall beare me 'bove the true-borne." 
Compare Edmund's words in Lear, i. 2. 14-16: 

"if this letter speed 

And my invention thrive, Edmund the base 
Shall top the legitimate." 

Again on p. 86, Dunstan quotes Herod and Antipater : 
"My life hath runne its Circle, and's come round; 

Mount Soule to Heaven ; sinke sins into the ground. Dies." 
The same figure is used in Lear, v. 3. 174, by Edmund just 
before his death : 

"The wheel is come full circle; I am here." 
Since the Lear was composed about 1605 and printed in 
1608, while the Herod and Antipater bears date of 1622, Mark- 
ham and Sampson might easily have borrowed. Dr. Dunstan 
announces his intention of publishing the text of both dramas. 
That this work is worth doing the thesis shows. 

University of Texas. ROBERT ADGER LAW. 



Harper's The Source of the British Chronicle History 289 

THE SOURCES OF THE BRITISH CHRONICLE HIS- 
TORY IN SPENSER'S FAERIE QUEENE, by Carrie 
Anna Harper. Bryn Mawr College Monographs. Bryn 
Mawr, Pa. 1910. Pp. 190. 

One is rather surprised that the subject of this doctor's 
thesis should not have been snapped up earlier by some other 
prospective Ph.D. It was a subject that called aloud for in- 
vestigation, it was definite, and it required the painstaking 
digestion of a large mass of material. Miss Harper is to be 
congratulated on capturing it. She is also to be praised for 
having worked it out methodically and in the main very well. 

Section I shows the disagreements and uncertainties of 
previous scholars, none of whom investigated the matter 
thoroughly. Section II discusses Spenser's general attitude 
toward sources, or authorities, as it may be inferred from other 
work of his, the lost Epithalamion Thamesis (later recast for 
F. Q. IV, xi) and the View of the Present State of Ireland. 
Section III catalogues the sources of British chronicle history 
that were available to him. Section IV gives proof that 
Geoffrey of Monmouth's Historia Regum Britannice was his 
main authority. Section V, the body of the thesis, goes 
through Spenser's own chronicle story (F. Q. II, x, III, iii, 
III, ix, 41-43) step by step, and shows, by array of author- 
ities, whence in each case he derived his matter and how he 
modified it by restatement or deliberate invention. Section 
VI summarizes the results of the investigation. Finally, in 
an appendix, it is argued that Spenser's chronicle of British 
kings was probably first planned and in part executed as a 
separate poem, taken into the Faery Queen as an afterthought. 

The thoroughness and orderliness of Miss Harper's work 
and the soundness of most of her inferences are beyond dis- 
pute ; in a few matters she lays herself open to criticism. In 
section II, for instance, after quoting the passage from Spen- 
ser's letter of April 2, 1580, about the Epithalamion Thamesis, 
she writes: "It shows that Spenser had no mind, even then, to 

follow Holinshed slavishly he planned to add something 

of value himself. ' ' Looking back for the grounds of this ex- 
plicit statement one is somewhat surprised to find nothing in 
Spenser's language to support it and very disastrously sur- 
prised at being forced to conclude it is derived from the Latin 
with which he ends 

Tite, siquid ego, 
Ecquid erit pretij? 

Had Miss Harper looked up the corresponding passage in 
Harvey's reply (v. Gregory Smith's Elizabethan Critical 
Essays, I, 113) she would have been guarded against thus com- 



290 Dodge 

promising her scholarship, for she must then have understood 
that this Latin had nothing whatever to do with the poet's 
proposed method of handling the material in Holinshed, but 
merely expressed doubt whether his projected labors would 
bring him any reward. 1 That a candidate for the doctor's 
degree should so badly misinterpret (and be allowed by the 
supervisors of her work to misinterpret) plain Latin, is most 
unfortunate. Since a good part of her section on Spenser's 
methods of work is based on this misinterpretation, the blunder 
is particularly damaging. 

In the detailed examination of the sources which forms the 
main body of the thesis Miss Harper has done her best work, 
and very good work it is. She at times sees borrowing, espe- 
cially in language, where one less preoccupied will see only 
casual resemblance, but certainty in matters of this kind is 
almost impossible of attainment, and critics are bound to dis- 
agree. In one point her genealogy seems at fault when she 
identifies the son of Arthegall and Britomart (pp. 145-147) 
with the legendary King Conan and is surprised that, in his 
account of this king, Spenser should depart from the recog- 
nized authorities. But Spenser, it would seem, does not in- 
tend to be understood so particularly. He has a very delicate 
transition to make from the almost purely imaginary pair 
whom he has chosen to work into the royal lineage and the 
recognized sovereigns of the line. To declare explicitly that 
the son of Arthegall and Britomart was King Conan would be 
to make, not a transition, but a jump : he therefore suppresses 
the name and alters the character, with the result of producing 
an ambiguous personage, who, as dethroner of Constantine 
and father of Vortipore, seems to be meant for Conan, but 
who, in other respects, is altogether vague and unidentifiable. 
To miss this is to miss one of the few skillful touches of his 
chronicle. 

Another detail of this section may be noticed. On p. 144 
the prophecy regarding Britomart (III, iii, 28) is declared 
to be a possible imitation of the story of Esclarmonde in Huon 
of Bordeux. Since the love affair of Britomart and Arthe- 
gall, however, is copied at almost all points from that of 
Bradamanta and Ruggiero in the Orlando Furisoso and since 

1 It is a condensation of the verses quoted at the outset of Cicero's 
Cato Major, sive De Senectute (referred to by Harvey as 'your great 
Cato'): 

O Tite, si quid ego adjuero curamve levasso 
Quae nunc te coquit et versat in pectore fixa, 
Ecquid erit praemi? 

Harvey's 'our little Catoes Ret age quce prosunt' will be found among 
the Disticha of Dionysius Cato, IV, 7. The sources of these quotations 
have not, I believe, been recorded by the commentators. 



Notes 291 

this particular prophecy closely corresponds to that given in 
the Orlando Furioso, XLI, 61 ff., the new ascription is not 
particularly convincing. 

In the appendix, the argument that Spenser probably 
planned his chronicle first as an independent poem is inge- 
nious and interesting, but not much more. Since Ariosto had 
established this kind of complimentary genealogy as a recog- 
nized feature of the romance poem, the antecedent probability 
is that Spenser simply followed his lead and devised his own as 
an original part of his Faery Queen. The evidence of his hav- 
ing the chronicle ready to his hand, as an older and independ- 
ent poem, is too slight to be of appreciable weight. There is very 
general danger that, in the absence of all definite knowledge 
about the beginnings of the Faery Queen, too much rein may 
be given to purely fanciful speculation. It has been suggested 
by some critic somewhere that this chronicle was the part of 
the poem first shown to Harvey and disapproved by him. It 
has also been suggested that the poem as shown to Harvey 
may not even have been in the famous stanza which the pub- 
lished version has immortalized. Such imaginings, which may 
of course be true, but for which we have no evidence whatever, 
seem hardly profitable. R. E. NEIL DODGE. 

University of Wisconsin. 



NOTES 
THE SOURCE OF THE STORY OF ASKETH. 

My professed ignorance regarding the whereabouts of the immediate 
source of The Story of Asneth, and my proffer of the question "to those 
more familiar than I with the history of Hebrew literature", 1 seem to 
Dr. G. L. Hamilton "not a very happy suggestion." 2 His own communi- 
cation, however, scarcely lightens whatever gloom attaches to the matter. 
Any good cyclopaedia will bear witness to his observation, that "the text 
itself" of some Historia Assenech "was published and commented on 
almost two centuries ago by Fabricius." But does this answer my 
question? In what respect does Fabricius's text prove superior to that 
found in Vincent of Beauvais, which I printed? The same essentials, 
especially the prayer of Asenath, common to the Greek and the English 
versions, are wanting in both Latin texts,* neither of which can be the 
immediate Latin source of the English Asneth. 

The Latin version in Alphabetum Narrationum is lugged in with 
even less propriety by Dr. Hamilton. It is as he himself says, a deriva- 

1 Journal of Eng. and Germ. Phil. X, 224 ff. 

2 Ibid., XI, 143-144. 

8 It may be stupidity on my part, but Fabricius's text appears to me 
a mere reprint of Vincent. 



292 

tive. Still less do his citations of unedited MSS. of some Historia 
Atsenech answer my question, though they farce a footnote well *. No 
evidence as to the nature of their contents is furnished by Dr. Hamilton, 
merely a guess that an examination of them might show some to be 
"abridged," others "to contain the full text". This is a good guess, no 
doubt, as it is certainly an easy one. An examination of Lady Cardi- 
gan's Chaucer MS. might show it to contain the Squires Tale complete, 
or it might not. 

My question, meanwhile, though it asks for "only a little know- 
ledge", still awaits its answer from someone more familiar with the 
history of Hebrew literature than myself. 

H. N. MACCRACKEN. 

* And yet not well. In the way of footnotes one may cavil on the 
ninth part of a hair. Dr. Hamilton's reference to Schankl in vol. 124 
of the Wien. Akad, d. Wiss. should be to Abhandlung III, not I, and no 
mention of Assenech appears on p. 11, to which he directs us. After 
the figures "136, V, 6" in the same note read a semi-colon for a comma; 
otherwise you will search in vain. 

"COMMENDATION" IN THE WANDERER. 

Mr. Laurence M. Larson of the University of Illinois has kindly 
drawn my attention to his valuable article on "The Household of the 
Norwegian Kings" in The American Historical Review, XIII, 439-479, 
(April, 1908) and particularly to the footnote (p. 461), in which he 
has anticipated my interpretation (in the January, 1912, number of the 
JOURNAL) of the Old English Wanderer, 41-44, as "the earliest com- 
plete record of a most important ceremony." I greatly regret my over- 
sight. May I add that Mr. Larson's earlier arrival at this goal of "Com- 
mendation" has a twofold interest for me: first, because his different 
method of approach from the starting point of the Old Norse Court 
Law increases my conviction of the truth of what he will permit me to 
call our solution of the Wanderer lines; and secondly, because new sup- 
port is thus indirectly given to the explanation of the phrase, Hand ofer 
heafod, which was, of course, the main contention of my little article. 
Blessed be all those who say our good things before us ! 

FREDERICK TUPPER, JR. 



VI > 



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KONTAMINATIONSBILDUNGEN UND HAPLOLOGI- 
SCHE MISCHFORMEN 

Dass hie und da erne Mischform in Gebrauch gekommen 
ist, weiss ja jedennann. Aber dass in der Umgangssprache 
der verschiedenen germ. Dialekte allerlei Kontaminationsbil- 
dungen in grosser Anzahl vorkommen, ist eine Tatsache, die 
nur wenige anzuerkennen scheinen. 

Mischformen lassen sich in drei Klassen einteilen: 1. Sol- 
che, die einen Laut oder Lautkomplex angenommen oder ein- 
gebiisst haben wegen sinnverwandter Worter oder durch 
Volksetymologie. Diese Klasse ist sehr zahlreich und muss 
seit den altesten Zeiten existiert haben. Hierher gehoren 
wahrscheinlich viele (vielleicht die meisten) der durch Deter- 
minative erweiterten Formen. 

2. Komposita, in denen ein Teil durch ein anderes Wort 
oder einen Wortteil ersetzt worden ist, wie westflam. snake- 
tisse "Eidechse" aus snake "Schlange" -J- mnl, (hage)tisse 
"Eidechse," Nr. 26. 

3. Komposita mit haplologischer Silbenellipse, wie els. 
badaudel 'dummer Mensch' aus ba(del) 'dummer Kerl' 
+ daudel 'geistig beschrankter Mensch,' Nr. 30. Hierher 
gehoren die meisten der sogenannten Streckformen. [Wie ich 
in Modern Phil. IX, 157-94, erwiesen zu haben glaube, lassen 
sich die von H. Schroder sog. Streckformen fast durchweg als 
haplologische Mischformen oder Komposita mit syllabischer 
Dissimilation edklaren. Den dort angefiihrten Beispielen fiige 
ich die folgenden hinzu. "Schr." nach einem Beispiel zeigt 
an, dass es bei Schroder, Streckformen, Heidelberg 1906 vor- 
kommt.] 

1. Ne. dial, baffound 'perplex, bewilder': baf(fle) 'confuse, 
perplex, annoy' -f- (con) found. 

2. Luxemb. barbuz 'Haarschneider': bar(bier) -j- butz 
(lothr. de bart butze 'rasieren'). 

3. Ne. dial, bog foundered 'perplexed, bewildered': bog 'stick 
in the mire; dumbfounder, confuse' -{- (dumb) founder. 

4. Ne dial, boldacious 'audacious, bold, brazen, impudent': 
bold -j- (aud)acious. 



296 Wood 

5. Ne. dial, bullrageous 'raging like a bull': bull -f- (out)- 
rageous. 

6. Mnl. drawonkel 'bosartige Geschwulst, ' drawonkelen 'ent- 
ziindet sein': draw- (md. ufgedrouwen 'erwachsen,' ahd. trou- 
uen, crescere, pupiscere,' triuuit 'excellet, pollet, floret' etc.) 
-f- mnl. (carb)onkel 'Karfunkel; bosartiges Geschwiir. ' 

7. Wflam. faluizie 'confusion, honte': mnl. fal(ie) 'Mislin- 
gen, Fehler; Fehlen' -j- (conf)usie ' Beschamung, Schande.' 

8. Lothr. viseldiere n ' durchsuchen ' : els. visitiere n arztlich 
untersuchen; durchsuchen, jemandes Taschen u. Kleider auf 
etw. Verdachtiges bin aussuchen' -j- lothr. (fisse)l(n) 'fiih- 
len, betasten, leise beriihren od. auf etw. herumfahren, durch- 
suchen. ' 

9. Friihschwab. gattieren 'ordnen' SFrank: gatt(en) 'ord- 
nen, anordnen, anstiften' (6'fters bei SFrank) -j- mhd. (or- 
din)ieren 'ordnen, in Ordnung bringen.' 

10. Me. harrageous 'bold, violent': harr(y) (vgl. ne. dial. 
Harry-gad, ruffian 'a wild or reckless person,' Old Harry 
'devil') -f- (cour)ageous. 

11. Els. kannebett, kanapet ^Kanapee, Sofa': Kana(pee) -f- 
bett. Els. Wb. I, 445, II, 113. 

12. Wflam. Kateie ' brise-lames, epi': nl. Ka(dijk) 'Stein- 
damm' -f- frz. (je)tee 'Hafendamm.' Wvlaamsch Id. 438. 

13. Lux. klmzech, lothr. klinzich, 'winzig': kl(ein) -\- 
(w)inzig. Nicht aus klein-zig, das lux. kleng-zech ergabe. 

14. Lux. lutzefatz 'Luzifer; liiderliches Frauenzimmer': 
lothr. luze(fer) 'Luzifer, Teufel, Nichtsnutz' (vielleicht an- 
gelehnt an lotze n 'Lumpen,' els. lotzer 'zerlumpter, arbeits- 
scheuer Mensch, Strolch/ lotzi 'zerlumpter, trage umher- 
schlendernder, schlapper Mensch; Liimmel,' lotz ' liederliche, 
faule Dime,' lotze n 'nicht recht passen, am Leib schlumpern; 
zerrissen, zerlumpt einherlaufen' etc) + lux. fatz 'Fetzen; 
liiderliches Weib.' 

15. Els. mangsion (mdnsjon) 'Menge, Masse, grosse An- 
zahl': meng(e) (maya) 'Menge, grosse Anzahl' -)- (ndt)sjon 
'Nation, Sippschaft, nur in spottischem Sinne; Gesindel.' 

16. Els. massion was mangsion: mass (e) -\- (ndts)jon. 

17. Els. meinalisch ' arg, bose ; f urchtbar, schrecklich ' : 
mein(eidig) -\- (krimin)alisch. Els. Wb. I, 689. 



Kontamiiiationsbildungen und Mischformen 297 

18. Wflam. plavei in kerkplavei 'soort van grooten tegel, 
veel gebruikt om de kerkvloeren te leggen,' nl. plavei 'Flur- 
schiefer,' plaveien 'mit Flursteinen belegen, pflastern': mnl. 
pavei (frz. pave), paveien -j- -I- (aus plank 'Planke' oder plat 
'Platte, ebene Flache' oder aber aus hd. Pflaster Franck, Et. 
Wb. 736). 

19. Ne. dial, pockmanteau 'portmanteau': pock 'bag, sack, 
poke' -f- (port)manteau. Auch postmantle: post -f- (port)- 
mantle. 

20. Wflam. ramulte remulte (tremulte) 'Rumor, Aufruhr': 
ram(oer) 'Rumor, Larm' -f- f rz - (tu)multe. 

21. Ne. dial, remetic 'an emetic; a remedy': r(emedy) -{- 
emetic. 

22. Ne. dial, renterfuge rentafuge 'rendezvous, esp. a place 
haunted by birds ': rende(zvous) -f- (re)fuge. 

23. Ne. dial, rumbago 'lumbago' ("I be a 'most crippled 
with rheumatics and rumbago" Blackmore Kit) : r(heumatics) 
-j- (l)umbago. 

24. Els. schagrille" 'torichte Sorgen, Kummer': scha(grin- 
ge n ) 'Unsinn, Vorspiegelung ; Gewissensbisse, Selbstvorwiir- 
fe' (frz. chagrin) -f- grille 11 'torichte Sorgen.' Els. Wb. II, 
401. 

25. Els. schmierasch 'Schmutz, Unreinlichkeit ; Durchein- 
ander': schmier(e) + (men)asch ' Haushaltung ; schlechte 
Haushaltung, grosse Unordnung u. wirres Durcheinander' 
(frz. menage). 

26. Wflam. snaketisse 'Eidechse': snake 'Schlange' + mnl. 
(hage)tisse 'Eidechse.' 

27. Wflam. trambooien 'slaan, lambooien, afrossen': tr- 
(avooien) 'afrossen, afranselen,' 'abpriigeln' -f- (l)ambooien 
' herhaaldeli jk slaan,' 'battre.' 

28. Zaan. trawaffel 'Ohrfeige, Schlag': wflam tra(vooien) 
-j- zaan. waff el 'Mund; Schlag, Ohrfeige.' 

29. Els. zumpose 'gesetzt, angenommen (dass)': zum (Bei- 
spiel) + frz. (sup)pose. Els. Wb. II, 904. 

30. Els. badaudel 'Halbnarr, dummer Mensch'; ba(del) 
'dummer Kerl' -(- daudel 'geistig beschrankter Mensch' (her- 
umdaudle" 'in Gedanken versunken herumstehen; herumtau- 
meln,' daudlig 'langsam, trage,' daudi 'dummes Kind,' d'dude 



298 Wood 

' dummer Mensch, ' lothr. taudele" ' einf altig reden, ' dodel ' ein- 
f altiger Mensch, ' bair tottelt ' dumm, einf altig, ' preuss. dudel- 
dop ' Dummkopf , ' ostfries. dudden 'betaubt sein, wie betaubt 
hinsitzen, duseln,' duddig dudderig 'betaubt, sinnlos, dumm, 
schlafrig, traumerig,' afries. dud 'Betaubung,' nisi, dofiinn 
'schlaff,' doftna 'nachlassen, ermatten,' ne. doddle 'zogern, 
langsam sich bewegen' etc.). Hierher gehort schweiz. badaut- 
le 'dumme Person.' Schr. 10. 

31. Els. badaukel 'dummer Mensch': bad(el) -\- (b)ogel 
'Dummkopf,' mit Anlehnung an badaudel. 

32. Els. badederle 'Person, die nichts ausrichtet': ba(der) 
'Quacksalber' + ddtterle 'kleiner, trippelnder Mann; alter, 
kleiner Kerl' (dattere n 'stottern; schwatzen; schlecht arbei- 
ten ; beben vor Angst, ' datteri ' f urchtsamer Mensch ; alter ge- 
brechlicher Mann,' datterig 'zitternd, furchtsam; weich, tei- 
gig, von Obst,' datterig 'ungeschickt, energielos,' schwab. dat- 
terig 'zitternd, angstvoll; sehr weich, etwa von Butter oder 
ganz jungem Kalbfleisch ' ; ddttele" 'unbeherzt, angstlich, nach- 
lassig arbeiten; langsam, kindisch, ungeschickt handeln, ge- 
ziert tun; langsam tun, zaudern,' norw. dadra 'zittern, beben' 
etc.) 

33. Els. badutter 'Gesass': ba(tterig) 'durch Nasse schmie- 
rig; weich, vom Obst' -|- dutter 'der Hintere.' Vgl. Nr. 146. 

34. Schwab, badeinlich 'verzartelt': ba(dde) 'alberner 
Mensch' -f- dei n le in 'schwachliche, einfaltige, angstliche Weibs- 
person. ' 

35. Els. badutscherle 'einfaltige Person': ba(dli) 'dummer 
Kerl' -f- dutscherle 'einfaltiges Frauenzimmer ' (dautsch 
'langsame Weibsperson, ' dautschel ' blodsinniger Dummkopf,' 
dotsch 'verdorbene Teigmasse, misslungenes Backwerk; un- 
gesehickter Mensch, tolpisches Ding,' daudel etc. Nr. 30). 
Schr. 11. 

36. Schweiz. bagduggel 'Hanswurst, Possenreisser, nar- 
risch-mutwilliger Mensch, bes. von Kindern': ba(ggel) 
'schlechtes Gerat; schlechtes, abgearbeitetes Pferd; einfaltig- 
gutmiitiger, dummer Mensch' + gduggel 'Possenreisser; ein- 
f altiger Mensch' (gdugge n 'geckisch tandeln; zum Narren 
halten'). 

37. Els. bajakle", bajakele" 'rennen, springen; coire,' 



Kontaminationsbildungen und Mischformen 299 

schweiz. bojaggle" 'Unzucht treiben': els. ba(cJcere n ) 'schnell 
gehen' -f- jagle n ' umherziehen, ' bair. jageln 'larmend bin und 
wiederlauf en. ' 

38. Els. bdjoppi 'lustiger, zum Springen aufgelegter Kna- 
be': schwab. bd(pfe n ) 'an einander stossen, z. B. mit den 
Kopfen von Schafen oder Kindern' -f- els. juppe n 'springen.' 

39. Wftam.-balongen in bimbalongen, bingbalongen 'been 
en weder bewegen, hangen en slingeren, ' ' baumeln ' : f ranz. 
bal(ancer) 'baumeln, schweben' -|- wflam. bing-(b)ongen 'bin 
u. her baumeln,' bimbommen dass. 

40. Schwab, baladere" 'schwatzen, plaudern': bal- (vgl. 
schwab. ball 'das Bellen,' ofries. ballern 'klatschen, knallen, 
laut schelten, toben, larmen' etc. oder schwab. balle 'Dumm- 
kopf,' schweiz. bal 'Narr') -f- (bl)adere n 'plaudern.' Oder 
besser baladern: schweiz. ba(dere n ) 'klatschen' schwatzen' -j- 
(b)ladern. Schr. 135. 

40a. Schweiz. baldli 'Laffe, Einfaltspinsel, Tolpel': bal 
'Narr; ungereimte Frauensperson ' -f- (b)dli 'Tolpel, Narr.' 
Dazu baldle n 'dumm u. einfaltig sich benehmen, bes. unver- 
standlich lallen.' 

41. Schwab. balantsche n 'plaudern': pa(ntsche n ) 'schlagen, 
speciell einem einen Schlag mit der flachen Hand auf einen 
weichen Korperteil, bes. das Gesass, versetzen; kraftig, aber 
unordentlich auf od. in etwas hinein schlagen, driicken; 
schwatzen' (pantsch 'Schlag, bes. mit flacher Hand; Ge- 
schwatz, bes. liigenhaftes, boshaftes') + (b)lantsche n 'schwa- 
tzen.' Oder bal (Nr. 40) -f- (bl)antschen. Schr. 135. 

42. Oberhess. balldtschen ' unverstandlich, auch dumm 
schwatzen,' schwab. baldth etc.: schwab. pa(tsche n ) (bdtsd) 
'klatschen, von breitem, lautem, unnotigem Gesprach Einzel- 
ner od. ganzer Gruppen' -|- nassau (b)latschen 'mit einem 
Schlage hinf alien; so schlagen, schwatzen' (blatsch, platsch 
'Schlag der klatscht; Knall; Schwatzerin, ' schwftb. bldt- 
sche n ' ausschwatzen, ' platscherin ' schwatzhaf te Person'). 
Oder bal (Nr. 40) + (bl)atschen. Schr. 136. 

43. Vorarlb. barlotscha ' unartikuliert u. unverstandlich 
sprechen wie die Kinder': schwab. parl(e n ) (barh) 'undeut- 
lich sprechen, von Kindern, die das Sprechen lernen; fur an- 



300 Wood 

dere unverstandlich reden' (fr. parler) -f- (bl)dtschen 
'schwatzen.' Schr. 137. 

44. Schweiz. plippappe n 'plappern, schwatzen': plipp(e n } 
'klatschen, plaudern' -(- (pl)appe n 'plappern' (plapp, plipp- 
plapp 'Nachahmung des Schalles auf-, oder anschlagender 
Fliissigkeit'). Heirher plippapper 'hb'lzerner Schlagel, der in 
der Karwoche in den Kirchen statt der Schelle gebraucht 
wird.' 

45. Schwab, poldtschen 'undeutlich, fremdlandisch spre- 
chen': pol(isch) 'polnisch; fremdartig' + (biydtsche n 'aus- 
schwatzen.' Schr. 175. 

46. Frank, bobelatschen 'undeutlich oder unverstandlich 
reden': schweiz. bobel(e n ) ' eigentiimlich bloken; stottern; un- 
niitzes Zeug schwatzen, plappern, -j- (bl)atschen, s. Nr. 42.) 
Schr. 137 f. 

47. Schweiz. baldutschi 'Tolpel': bd(li) 'Tolpel, Narr' -f 
lautschi ' umherstreichender Mensch; Faulenzer; Wiistling; 
Tolpel.' 

48. Sehweiz. baloffel, schimpfname : bd(U) 'Tolpel' -|- lof- 
fel 'Laffe, einfaltiger Mensch.' 

49. Schweiz. baloggi 'dummer Mensch': bdl(i) -\- (b^bggi 
'unreinlicher Mensch; einer, dessen Blick keinen Ausdruck 
noch Geist hat.' 

50. Schweiz. baloli l Dummkopf ' : bd(li) + loli 'Dumm- 
kopf ; Fastnachtsnaar. ' 

51. Schweiz. balorig ' tolpelhaf t ' : bd(li) + lori, lori 'Zau- 
derer; Dummkopf.' 

52. Schwab, balenke 'Schimpfwort fiir einen Mann' : bal(e) 
'Kater; Schelte fiir Menschen: Grobian, Tolpel, Dummkopf, 
-J- (p)enk 'Mann, Kerl. ' 

53. Schweiz. bampelure n 'schlechte kraftlose Briihe, von 
Wein, Kaffee udgl. ': bambel 'etwas Herabhangendes ; schales 
Getrank' -j- (l)iire n 'Leurentrank; schlechte Briihe iiberh., er- 
barmliches Getrank, z. B. wasserige Suppe, bes. fader Kaffee. ' 

54. Bair. bamazln 'Zitzen, mammae': ba(tzl) 'kleiner Ba- 
tzen, namentlich kleines festes Mehlklosschen ' (wien. batzl 
'eine kleine Portion einer dicklichen Masse,' bair. batzen 
'Klumpen von weicher Masse') -f- *mazln 'Kliimpchen' (bair. 



Kontaminationsbildungen und Mischformen 301 

matz 'naekte Schnecke; knorriger Holzblock, Klotz'). Schr. 
20. 

55. Steir. banazel, panatzel 'jungfrauliche Brust': pan(zl) 
Demin. von panzen 'breites Fass, bauchiges Geschirr; Bauch' 
+ (b)atzel Schr. 20. 

56. Nd. bankefett (in b. leben und pannkefett, pdnneken- 
fett, mit Anlehnung an panne 'Pfanne,' 'schmausen, schwel- 
gerisch, verschwenderisch leben') : banke(t) (fr. banquet) 
+ fett. Schr. 201f. 

57. Vorarlb. barleggisch 'schlaff, matt, abgespannt, trage': 
schweiz. parl(isch) 'Gicht, paralysis' + (pl)dgge 'eine iiber- 
aus trage Weibsperson, die sich nicht einmal regen mag' (pld- 
gern, plegern 'faulenzen, immer sitzen u. ruhen wollen. '). 
Schr. 136. 

58. Schweiz. bastand halte n 'stand halten, ausharren': 
ba(stant) 'kraftig, stark genug zu etwas' (ital. bastante 'ge- 
niigend')- -f- stand halte n . 

59. Wflam. bawinde, *biivinde 'convolvulus': bi(nde) 'con- 
volvulus' -f- winde dass. Hier ist ba- = v -, wie in baginnen 
'beginnen,' bamierelen, mierelen 'perlen,' bazorgen 'besor- 
gen' etc. 

60. Schwab, bempempel, pimpimbel: els. bim(pel) + bim- 
pel ' Glockenschwengel ; membrum vir. ' ( bimple" bimmeln, hin 
u. her bewegen; coire,' schwab. bample" 'bamineln' etc.). 

61. Els. bibabele" 'zartlich pflegen, verzarteln bei Krank- 
heiten; schmeicheln, ' sch\veiz. bibabele" 'schon tun, schmei- 
cheln, mit iibertriebener Schonung und Angstlichkeit 
behandeln; verhatscheln, verzarten; aus Zimpferlichkeit 
oder Schwache zaudern, tandeln': schweiz. bi(bele n ) in der 
Verbindung Eim bibele n u. bdbele 11 (schwab. bibele n 'tandeln, 
mit den Fingern spielen; spielen, ohne Ernst arbeiten,' els. 
bippele" 'krankeln,' bippelig ' schwachlich, unwohl') -)- 
schweiz. bdbele n 'kindisch schmeicheln, hatscheln, bes. reden u. 
tun, was jedem, bes. einem Kinde, angenehm ist, meist von 
Kindern, die man zu weichlich halt,' mhd. pepelen 'pappeln.' 

62. Schwab, buppappen 'kleine Waren durch Wiirfel aus- 
spielen lassen,' buppapper ' herumziehender Kramer, der sei- 
ne Waren durch Ausspielen anzubringen sucht,' buppapperig 
'zerbrechlich, wenig dauerhaft,' -isch schwachlich, krank- 



302 Wood 

lich, zart,' verbuppapper(l)en 'auf unbesonnene Weise, fiir 
nutzlose Kleinigkeiten das Geld verschleudern ' : verbup(per- 
le n da$s. (poppere n bober9 'raseh, aber schwach schlagen; 
unnotig, aufgeregt hin und her laufen; wiirfeln; leicht, aber 
lange fort zanken,' els. boppere n 'pochen, klopfen,' verb, 'ver- 
schwenden,' ne. bob 'sehnellen, prellen; baumeln' etc.) -f- 
pappe n 'kleben,' pappet 'breiweich; weichlich' etc. 

63. Schwab, blbapperer 'Schwatzer': pi(ppere n ) 'vorlaut 
reden ' -f- pappere* 1 ' plappern, ' pdpperer ' Schwatzer. ' 

64. Els. bollecker 'frecher Kerl, der andere Leute auslacht' : 
bol(er) 'Person, die starr auf einen Punkt sieht; grosses Au- 
ge' (bole n 'werfen, schlagen; grosse Augen machen, glotzen') 
-f- (b)lecker (usblecker ' Verspotter, ' blecke n 'die Zahne flet- 
schen, jem. ein Gesicht ziehen, um seiner zu spotten' etc.). 
Schr. 140. 

65. Schwab, blatschdre 'unformlich breiter, flacher Gegen- 
stand; spec, breiter Hut': blatsch 'grosses, ganzrandiges Blatt, 
bes. der Kohl- u. Riibenarten ; abgetragene, schlappige Kappe 
oder Haube; iiberhaupt eine bedeutende Flache' + (bl)dre 
'grosse Flache.' 

66. Els. bummeritze n (pum,9rits9, -etsa) 'poltern; unpers. 
es hat eine Art': bummere" 'knallen, mit Geschiitzen don- 
nern; mit Getose schlagen; priigeln' (schwab. bummere" 
'dumpf drohnenden Ton geben') -|- (*b)iitzen (mhd. butzen 
'stossweise losfahren,' butze 'Poltergeist,' ahd. bozan 'schla- 
gen, klopfen' etc.). 

67. Schwab, bumpummele ' ungescheides Kind, schonend 
liebkosender Tadel': bump(ele in ) 'dicker Gegenstand; dickes 
Kind' (bumpelig 'dickleibig u. unbeholfen') -|- schweiz. 
(b~)ummeli 'Kleines Vieh, Kleines Kind.' 

68. Schwab, burrassel ' entschlossenes Weibsbild von rauher, 
polternder Art': bu(rre n ) 'brummen, zanken' -|- rassel (els. 
rossel 'Dime, schlechtes Madchen,' rossle n , rassele" 'rasseln, 
poltern, larmen'). 

69. Schwab, burratsch ' stotterndes, unverstandlich reden- 
des Weibsbild': bu(rre n ) 'brummen' -)- r'dtsch 'Schnarre, 
Klapper; plauderhafte, freche Weibsperson' Schmid 421, els. 
r'dtsch 'Klapper; Plaudertasche, ' rdtsche n 'klappern; plau- 
dern. ' 



Kontaminationsbildungen und Mischformen 303 

70. Schwab, pralatzge n ' prahlend erzahlen, mit Bombast re- 
den,' schweiz. bralatzge" 'dummes Zeug plappern': schwab. 
pral(e n ) -f- (br)atzgen (bratzig 'stolz, hoffartig,' els. pratzig 
' prahlerisch, grosstuend,' pratze" 'prahlen,' schwab. pratze" 
dass.). Schr. 100. 

71. Schweiz. brilatzge" 'dummes Zeug plappern': els. bril- 
(le n ) 'briillen' -|- (br)atzgen, s. oben. Schr. 100. 

72. Henneb. bramdsche 'Prahlerei, Grosstuerei': wfal. 
bram(men) 'brausen' (dan. bramme 'prahlen, prunken') + 
mnd. (br)dsch 'Krach, Gebriill, Larm, larmendes Geprange' 
(brdschen 'krachen; brullen; prahlen,' thiir. brdschen 'prah- 
len' etc.). Schr. 100. 

73. Leipz. bramasseln 'prahlen': bram(men), s. oben -{- 
leipz. (br)asseln ' auf schneidung, grosstun, prunken' (bras- 
sen, prassen, etc.). Schr. lOOf. 

74. Schweiz. braschalle" 'viel u. laut (mit behaglicher 
Breite) reden, das grosse Wort fiihren, auch mit dem Neben- 
sinn des Prahlerischen od. des Ungeordneten, Gedankenlosen, ' 
g e braschall 'durch lautes Sprechen Vieler erzeugter verwor- 
rener Larm; lautes, prahlendes Sprechen': brasch(le") 'meist 
unpers., als Bezeichnung eines starken Gerausches, wesent- 
lich == nhd. prasseln' (braschel 'lautes Gerausch, Geprassel, 
Getose ; Larm, den viele durch einander Sprechende erzeugen, ' 
mnd. brdsch etc., Nr. 72) -\- (br)alle n 'schallen, larmen; 
wichtigtuerisch reden, prahlen.' 

75. Schweiz. brolot-sch 'ein Mensch, der sich vor Fettig- 
keit kaum bewegen kann; fetter dummer Kerl: brol(li) 
'dicker, fetter, unformlicher Mensch' (broil 'grosseres Stein- 
kiigelchen zum Spielen ; dummer Mensch, ' prollig ' derb, vier- 
schrotig,) -(- (br}otsch (schweiz. brotschelig 'obesulus,' els. 
brutsch 'dickes Kind,' oberhess: brutsche 'dickes aufgewor- 
fenes Maul,' bair. brotschet bratschet 'breit, aufgedunsen, 
dick' etc.). 

76. Schwab, daladere" 'nutzlos viel schwatzen': dal(dere n ) 
'sich ungeschickt benehmen; ungeschickt gehen u. reden; 
schwatzen, ausplaudern' (dalle" 'lallen, schwatzen, klatschen, 
unniitz reden; mit mangelhaften Zahnen langsam kauen; ess- 
bares unziemlich in den Handen herumkneten, ' bair. dalen 



304 Wood 

'reden oder tun wie kleine Kinder') -f- (d)attere n 
'zittern; stammeln; plappern' (els. dattere n , s. Nr. 32). 

77. Schwab, dalatsche" 'beim Backen ungeschickt verfah- 
ren': dal(le n ) 'Essbares unziemlich in den Handen herum- 
kneten' (dalle ' Schimpf name fiir ein ungeschicktes Madchen; 
kleine, nichtsnutzige Weibsperson; dummer Mensch, Mensch, 
dem nichts von der Hand geht,' dalder ' ungeschickter 
Mensch,' daldere" 'sich ungeschickt benehmen etc.' s. oben) 
-f- (t)atsche n 'backen' (tatsche n , tatsche n 'klatschen, pat- 
schen; mit Teig spielen,' tatsch 'etwas Breitgefallenes, ge- 
driicktes; sitzen gebliebenes Backwerk' etc.). 

78. Schwab, deliebele (delidbdle /\ u u) 'geliebtes Kind': 
de(le in ) 'Medaille udgl., um den hals getragen' -)- liebele. 

79. Schwab, dewedele 'kindische, lappische Person': 
dd(ttele in ) 'fallen gelassene fliissige oder breiartige Masse; 
schachliche Person' (dattel dass., ddttelig ' schwachlich, angst- 
lich,' ddttele n 'unbeherzt, angstlich, nachlassig arbeiten; lang- 
Tsani, kindisch, ungesehickt handeln, geziert tun, ' datterig ' zit- 
ternd, angstvoll ; sehr weich, etwa von Butter oder ganz jung- 
em Kalbfleisch' etc. s. Nr. 32) -}- wedele Demin, von wedel 
'schwanz; verachtl. fiir jammerliche Menschen.' 

80. Schwab, drallare 'Dummkopf, Schwachkopf; grosser, 
dummer Mensch,' els. trallari 'Tolpel': schwab. drall(e) 
'Cretin Simpel; ungeschickter, dummer, plumper Mensch' 
(drallewatsch,-patsch 'ungeschickter, plumper, roher Mensch,' 
drallig 'simpelhaft, blodsinnig,' wahrscheinlich zu drall, mhd. 
gedrollen 'drall, rund, gehauft') + (0 r * (els. larle 'T61- 
pel, dummer einfaltiger KerF). 

81. Steir. trallasch 'plumpes und dabei dummes Frauen- 
zimmer': trail-, drall- wie oben -(- (tr)aschel ' Plaudertasche ' 
(trascheln 'schwatzen, plauschen, Uberfliissiges reden, ver- 
leumden'), Schr. 134. 

82. Els. tralatschi ' f auler, langsamer Mensch ' : schwab. 
tra(tsche) ' unbeholf ener od. ungestalter Mensch; wegen Un- 
reinlichkeit iiberlastiger Mensch' (tratsch 'nasser Schnee u. 
Schmutz auf den Wegen', bair. getratsch ' schneenasses Wet- 
ter') -j- els. latschi 'lappischer, trager Mensch' (latsche n 'tra- 
ge herumschlendern ; faul auf dem Stuhl sich rekeln' etc.). 

83. Schwab, drallatsch 'dummer Streich': drall (e) Nr. 80 



Kontaminationsbildungen und Mischformen 305 

+ (t)atsch 'etwas Breitgefallenes, - gedriicktes ; dummer 
Mensch' (tatschig 'weich, z. B. von unausgebackenem Teig; 
breit, plump'). Oder drallatsch zu tralatschi. 

84. Bair. drischedeln ' geschaf tlos und doch mit dem An- 
schein von Geschaf tigkeit umhergehen ' : drisch(eln) 'oben- 
hin dreschen' (drdscheln 'im Kot herumtreten, ' dreschen 
'dreschen; schlagen; treten, gehen,' hindreschen, abedr. 'vom 
Laufen des Hundes') -f- (tr)edeln 'trodeln, nicht vom Fleck 
kommen. Schr. 101. 

85. Bair. trallatsch ' Plaudertasche, ' nass. tralatsch 
' Schwatzerin, ' rhein. traldtschen 'laut u. anhaltend schwatz- 
en': steir. tra(tsche) ' Plauscherin, Klatschbase' (tratschen 
'plauschen, nachreden, herumreden, schwatzen,' bair. trat- 
schen ' im Nassen, Kotigen herumtreten ; plaudern, schwatzen ; 
ausplaudern' etc.) -f- latsch (latschen 'schleppend, schliir- 
fend gehen; breit reden,' nass. latsch 'em bes. im Gehn u. 
Sprechen trager Mensch, Mensch von unfestem Charakter'). 
Schr. 134. 

86. Nass. traratsch 'Schwatzerin': steir. tra(tsche) 
'Klatschbase' (s. oben) -(- ratsch (els. rdtsch 'Klapper; Plau- 
dertasche,' s. Nr. 69). Schr. 134. 

87. Nass. trawatsch 'Schwatzerin': tra (latsch) oder tra- 
(ratsch) -)- -watsch (aus nass. klawatsch, lawatsch 'schwatz- 
hafte, oft auch tolpelhafte, trage Person,' klawatschen, la- 
watschen 'viel schwatzen,' woriiber s. Mod. Phil. IX, 181, 
183). Schr. 134. 

88. Els. trakel ' Krakeel, grosser Larm ' : trakele" ' schreien, 
larmen,' trakeler 'Schreier, Larmmacher': bair. tra(cks) 'Be- 
complimentierung mit Trompeten- und Paukenschall, was 
Tusch' + (kra)keel, woriiber s. Mod. Phil. IX, 182. 

89. Els. traketle 'Rakete; Ohrfeige': bair. tra(cks) wie 
oben (oder im zweiten Sinne els. trakiere" 'qualen, schlagen, 
mishandeln, traktieren') -f- els. (ra)ketle 'Rakete.' 

90. Schwab, trappatsche 'tappischer Mensch,' pi. 'zertre- 
tene Schuhe,' trappatsche n 'drein tappen' : trapp(e n ) 'im Trab 
gehen; stampfen, schwer auf treten' (trappdrei n 'plumper, 
tolpischer Mensch') -J- (tr)atsche 'unbeholfener oder unge- 
stalter Mensch' (lux. trattschen ' schwerf allig auftreten'). 

91. Els. trawakle" 'angestrengt arbeiten; priigeln': tra- 



306 Wood 

(walje n ) 'hart arbeiten' (frz. travailler) -f- wackle" 'wackeln, 
wanken; priigeln,' oberhess. wackeln 'wanken; priigeln,' 
lothr. wackele n dass. 

92. Els. trawattle" 'geziert gehn, schlendern; schnell, aber 
mit kleinen Schritten laufen, von Kindern u. alten Leuten': 
schwab. dra(tle n ) 'zwirnen, drillen; ohne Ernst, langsam, zer- 
streut arbeiten ; zogern, langsam gehen ; mit kleinen Schritten 
laufen' -f- els. wadle n ' schwerf allig laufen, von kleinen Kin- 
dern, rasch mit kurzen Schritten eilen; zimperlich gehn mit 
kurzen Schritten, von Weibspersonen. ' 

93. Schweiz. fagduggel ' Possenreisser, Hanswurst, Spass- 
vogel; einfaltiger Mensch,' fagaugge" fagugge n 'komische Ge- 
berden': fa(xe n ) 'Spasse, Possen, Tiicke, drollige Streiche; 
Grimassen, auffallende od. lacherliche Geberden' -|- gduggel 
'Possenreisser, Hanswurst etc.,' gdugge n 'geckisch tandeln; 
zum Narren halten,' mhd. goukel gougel 'zauberisches Blend- 
werk; narrisches Treiben, Possen,' ahd. gougaron 'umher- 
schweifen,' mhd. gogeln 'sich ausgelassen geberden, hin u. 
her flattern,' gugen 'schwanken' etc. 

94. Schweiz. fagose n 'komische Geberden': fa (giigge") dass. 
-f gosse n ' Tiicke, Einf alle, Dummheiten, ' frz. gausse ' Schnur- 
re, Auf schneiderei. ' 

95. Schweiz. fagune n 'Komische Geberden': fag(iigge n ) 
dass. + (fad)une, (fatune, fortune) 'seltsame Geberden, 
Grimassen. ' 

96. Schweiz. fagiingger ' verachtliche Schelte auf einen er- 
barmlichen Menschen': fa(gauggel) 'einfaltiger Mensch' -\- 
gunggele n 'miissig herumschlendern, ' schwab. gunkeler 
' Mensch mit schleppendem Gang, ' els. gunkel ' Lump, Schnaps- 
saufer' etc. 

97. Schweiz. vagole" 'zwecklos herumschwarmen': va(gie- 
W) + gole n 'gaffen.' So erklart in Schweiz. Id. 

98. Preuss. fijuchel (zur Verstarkung: fijuchel vijol 'Wind- 
beutel, Liederjan, namentlich von einem liederlichen Frauen- 
zimmer, fijucheln ' windbeutelnd, liederlich, leichtfertig, aben- 
teuernd sich umhertreiben, fijuchlich 'windbeutelnd usw. sich 
umhertreibend' : vi(jolen) 'verlangend sich auf etwas freuen' 
-f- jucheln 'in Leichtsinn u. sinnlicher Lust leben, umher- 
schweifen,' juchelig. 



Kontaminationsbildungen und Mischformen 307 

99. Schwab, fasandel 'leichtsinnige buhlerische Weibsper- 
son; zweideutige herumziehende Weibsperson; "Weib, das 
durch seinen Anzug auffallen will, ' fasandle n ' ohne bestimmtes 
Geschaf t umhergehen, ' fasandlich ' phantastisch gekleidet, mit 
fliegenden Bandern u. a. versehen': fas(eln) 'tandelnd, leicht- 
sinnig, ausgelassen gebaren; uniiberlegt, verwirrt reden' -f- 
schwab. (f)antel 'Halbnarr' (fdnterlen 'spielen, tandeln,' 
fante 'narrischer, iiberspannter, phantastischer Mensch; her- 
umstreichendes Weibsbild'). Vgl. vagantel: vag(ieren) -\- 
(f)antel. 

100. Schwab, finassel (roter f. ' Schimpf wort beim Militar,' 
rote f. 'desgleichen fiir ein rothaariges Frauenzimmer') : 
fi(sel) 'Faser; mannliches Glied; Bursche, Kamerad' (els. 
bechfisel ' Schimpf name bei Fischart Garg. 311, hundsfisel 
'Feiglinge, Schwachlinge ' Garg. 407, vgl. Els. Wb. I, 149) + 
*nassel (schwab. ndsseln 'nach Nasse riechen; den Trunk lie- 
ben' Schmid 402). 

101. Schwab, fineiselt 'regnet': /I (sle n ) 'fein regnen' (lothr. 
fisle", lux. fiselen, wflal. fidseln, ofries. flselen dass.) -\- bair. 
niseln 'sachte, diinn, regnen' (els. neise n 'durch Schmutz wa- 
tend sich besudeln'). Vielleicht hierher schwab. finessle" 
' weinen. ' 

102. Schwab, flattuse" ' Schmeischeleien ' : flatt(erie) 
' Schmeichelei ' (flattiere n 'schmeicheln') -}- (fl)usen (schwab. 
flause n 'Umstande, Ceremonien, Ausfliichte; scherzhaft prah- 
lerische Reden, ' flause n ' gross sprechen ; schmeicheln, sich an- 
schmiegen') oder (f)usen (schwab. fusele" 'klein, zierlich, 
aber auch unleserlich schreiben ; tandeln, schmeicheln, ' fuseler 
'Weibernarr, Schmeichler' etc.). 

103. Ne. gallivant 'gad about; spend time frivolously or in 
pleasure-seeking, esp. with the opposite sex': gall (ant) 'play 
the gallant toward a woman' -f- levant 'run away, decamp.' 

104. Schweiz. galaffe n 'gaffen, mit offenem Munde dastehn,' 
schwab. galaffe 'Geek,' golaffe" feil haben 'miissig im Dorf 
herum laufen': ga(ffen) + (g)laffen 'gaffen' (vgl. Mod. 
Phil. IX, 180) oder els. ga(le n ) 'gaffen' + (g)laffen oder 
gal(en) -f- (g)affen. Schr. 21. 

105. Schweiz. galangge n 'nachlassig gehen, schlendern, 
schleichen; wankend gehen, faulenzen, langsam arbeiten': 



308 Wood 

schwab. ga(nkele n ) 'langsam schwingen' (oder schweiz. 
ga(lle n ) 'spielen; sich miissig herumtreiben ; sitzend schau- 
keln') -f- schweiz. (g)langge n 'schaukeln; baumeln; langsam 
schwankend, unsicher gehen, schlendern; langsam, lassig ar- 
beiten.' Vgl. das folg. 

106. Schwab, galankes ' hochgewachsener Mann mit nach- 
lassigem Gang': gal(e] 'langer, diirrer Mensch' -)- (g)ankes 
(gankele" 'langsam schwingen,' gunkes 'alter Mann, lenden- 
lahmer Spielmann,' gunkele n 'hin u. her schwanken,' gun- 
keler 'Mensch mit schleppendem Gang,' ginke n 'schaukeln' 
etc.) oder vielleicht besser zu dem Vorhergehenden. Vgl. 
els. schlanggankel 'langer, schlanker, unbeholfener Mensch': 
schlank(el) 'em langer, trager Mensch' -f- gdnkel ' tandelnder, 
narrischer Mensch,' gankel 'lose Weiberjacke.' 

107. Schwab, gallunkel fern. Schimpfwort: gall(e) 'Dumm- 
kopf ' -f- els. (g)unkel m. 'Lump, Schnapssauf er ; f. Sauferin' 
(schweiz. gunggele n 'etwas Baumelndes; trage, nachlassig u. 
schmutzig gekleidete Weibsperson, ' els. gunkle n ' umherlauf en ; 
Wein iiber die Strasse verkaufen,' schwab. gunkele n etc.). 
Oder gallunkel: ga(nkel) -|- (g)lunkel zu Nr. 105. Vgl. 
schwab. glunk ' liederliches Frauenzimmer, ' els. glunki 'han- 
gender baumelnder Korper; langsamer, dummer Mensch; ei- 
ner der im Hemd od. leichten Nachtwamms umher geht,' 
glunke" 'schlaff herabhangen; schlendern' etc. 

108. Schweiz. gulungger l ein verachtliches, schlechtes Ding 
in seiner Art, lebendig od. leblos' : gu(nggle n , 'baumeln, schau. 
keln, wackelii'-{-(g')lungger (glungge n 'schaukeln, schwanken, 
baumeln, lose, schlaff herabhangen; nachlassig, bes. in schlot- 
trig am Leibe hangenden Kleidern u. mit schlaffen Gliedern 
miissig, zwecklos, trage, schwankend umher gehen, schlendern, 
bummeln' etc.). Vgl. Nr. 105. 

109. Schwab, galluri 'dummer, alter Kerl': gall(e) 'Dumm- 
kopf -f- e l g - (l)uri 'Faulenzer, langsamer Mensch' (lure 11 
'heimlich aufpassen; faulenzen, umherschlendern ; halb schla- 
fen, halb wachen,' mhd. luren 'lauern') oder (gl)uri 'Schie- 
ler' (glure n 'anstarren, begaffen; schielen, blinzeln,' mnd. glu- 
ren 'blinzeln, lauernd blicken'). 

110. Schwab, galattere" 'schnell springen': gal(abre n ) 



Kontaminationsbildungen und Mischformen 309 

'laufen, springen, jagen' -f els. (g)dttere n 'schnell laufen, 
fliegen. ' 

111. Schwab, gallatten 'nach der Obsternte (am Gallustag, 
16. Okt.) das Obst von den Baumen herunter tun': gall(e n ) 
dass. -f- (g)atten (mhd. gaten 'zskommen; vereinigen,' ver- 
gatern 'vereinigen, versammeln, ' ne. gather 'sammeln, ver- 
sammeln; pfliicken, lesen'). 

112. Schwab, gdnaffe, ginaffe 'der untatig Hinstarrende, ' 
g. fell haben 'miissig, dumm herumlungern ' : gdn(e n ), 
gin(e n ) 'den Mund aufsperren' (gd n maule n = gdnaffen feil 
haben) -f- (g)affen. 

113. Osterr. gramdschi, kramdschi ' Geriimpel, vielerlei bunt 
durcheinander geworfene Sachen': steir. gram(uri) 'Geriim- 
pel, Plunderzeug; Unordnung, wiistes Durcheinander,' (gra- 
muren 'Unordnung machen, durcheinanderwerfen, wiihlend 
suchen, rumoren') -f- (gr)dschi (*gerdschi, rdschen 'Ge- 
rausch machen, rasseln'). Schr. 128, 203f. 

114. Bair. grdmeisch 'Haufen unordentlich zsgeworfener 
Sachen, GeriimpeP: gram- wie oben (oder kram) -\- (gr)eisch 
(gertiusch). Schr. 103f. 

115. Wflam. grameien, grameelen 'glimlachen, monkelen,' 
'sourire,' (Kil.) gremeelen 'subridere, renidere': grim-gram- 
(grimmen 'ducere vultus, contrahere rugas' Kil., 'grimla- 
chen, monkelen, sourire' De Bo) -\- (gr)eien 'plaire, agreer.' 

116. Schweiz. kramausi 'Mengsel von Speisen': gram-Nr. 
113 -(- (kr)ausi (schweiz. apfelchrausi 'saure Apfel u. Kartof- 
feln untereinander gemischt' etc.). Schr. 1281 

117. Sclrvveiz. gramusi, kramusi 'das Kitzeln, Kribbeln,' 
kramuseln 'krabbeln, klettern, ' gramuslen, gramiislen 'leise 
kitzeln, krabbeln': gram (sen) 'mit voller Hand, mit Klem- 
mung betasten; krabbeln, jucken; wurmen, nagen' -|" (gr)u- 
seln. Schr. 105. 

118. Schweiz. granitz(l)er, grdnitzler 'mit Kleinwaaren, 
Nippsachen hausierender Kramer; Schmuggler,' granitzlen 
'den Beruf eines Granitzlers treiben': gran-kran- (krinnen 
'auskerben, auszacken; herummarkten') -f- (gr)iltzen 'scha- 
ben; schnitzeln; horbar nagen; keif en, zanken; Kleinhandel 
treiben. ' Schr. 105f . 

119. Els. kriwat 'krankliche Person,' kriwatte" 'krankeln': 



310 Wood 

kriw- (grilblig 'empfindlich, piinktlich; fast ohrnnachtig, ' 
lothr. kriwelich 'nervos, reizbar') + els. (gr)atte n 'beim Ge- 
hen die Beine spreizen ; in die Kniee sinken, wie alte oder mii- 
de Leute' (grattle n 'auf Handen u. Fiissen gehn, kriechen, 
miihsam gehn' etc.). Schr. 130. 

120. Els. kapetuts 'langer Mantel': kaput 'Kapuzenman- 
tel der frz. Soldaten; weiter Bauermantel' + (kap)uz 'Ka- 
puze ; weiter Fuhrmannsmantel. ' Schr. 203. 

121. Lothr. kappeisen refl. 'sich zanken, streiten, priigeln': 
kapp(en) 'ohrfeigen, durchpriigeln' + (*k)eisen (nl. nd. 
kesen, klsen 'beissen,' ofries. 'Zahne fletschen u. grinsen, die 
sichtbaren Zahne vor Wut aufeinander beissen'). Vgl. kab- 
besern: kabb(eln) + (k)esern (Mod. Phil. IX, 181). 

122. Wflam. kastuifel ' Klunten, lomperik, ' ' Lump ' : karst 
(spr. kaste) 'Kruste, Rinde Wundschorf -(- (k)uifel 'Lump.' 

123. Els. klafinzle n (scherzh.) 'Klavier spielen': klav(ie- 
re n ) dass + steir. (kl)inzeln 'hell tonen, glockentonartige Ge- 
rausche hervorbringen ; klingebn. ' 

124. Schwab. klubergle n 'nach der Obsternte das Obst von 
den Baumen herunter tun': els klu(ble n ) 'aussuchen, ausle- 
sen' (nhd. klauben etc.) -j- schwab. (after)bergle n 'erlaubte 
Nachlese nach der Ernte halten an fremden Obstbaumen, 
Weinbergen, auch auf Kartoffelackern. ' 

125. Luxemb. krabez 'Eigensinn,' krabezech, krabdzech 
'eigensinnig': ofries. krab(big) 'kratzig, streit- u. zanksiich- 
tig, widerhaarig, widerstrebend ' -(- lux. (kr)azech 'kratzig, 
widerhaarig. ' 

126. Koln. krabitz 'zankische, unvertragliche Person,' kra- 
bitzig 'zankisch': krab(big) -)- (kr)itz-ig (kritzen 'zanken, 
streiten'). Schr. 123. 

127. Lux. krabull 'Streit': krab- (s. oben) -f- (kr)ull 
(ofries. krul, krol 'kraus, lockig; frech, keck,' wfries. krol 
'kraus; launig, eigen-, steifsinnig, etc.). 

128. Els. krabutz 'Kopf; Kragen; pi. kleine Kinder': 
krab (be) 'kleiner runder Seekrebs; (bildlich) regsames mun- 
tres Kind, regsames muntres kleines Tier' -f- els. (kr)utze 
'Kerngehause des Obstes; Knirps, auch kosend von einem 
Kind.' Schr. 124. 

129. Els. gragel krakel 'Hals': kra(gen) -\- kehle. 



Kontaminationsbildungen und Mischfonnen 311 

130. Friihnhd. cramanzen 'schnorkeln; Possen treiben,' els. 
kramdnzele meist PI. 'Schnorkel, Verzierungen in Schrift, 
Druck, Malerei (Anfangsbuchstaben), modischer Kleidung,' 
kramanzle n 'schnorkelhaft ausschneiden, kiinstlich verzieren, 
schnitzen ; schnorkeln mit Feder, Pinsel, ironisch auch : 
schlecht schreiben' etc.: kram- 'zsziehen' (mhd. krimmen 'die 
Klauen zum Fange kriimmen; kratzen, kneipen, zwicken,' 
kram 'Krampf,' els. kramme n 'kratzen,' krimsel kramsel 'Ge- 
schreibsel,' nhd. krumm etc.) -(- els. (kr)dnzle n = kramdnz- 
le n (gekrdnzel 'feine Schnitzarbeit, ' kranz etc.). Schr. 112ff. 

131. Schweiz. kramutz ' Kleinigkeit ' : kram- 'zsziehen' (s. 
Nr. 130) -f (kr)utz Nr. 132. Schr. 124. 

132. Osterland. kramutzchen 'Lause': schweiz. chram(slen) 
'wimmeln, krabbeln, kribbeln; prickeln, jucken' (els. kram- 
me n 'kratzen' etc.) -j- (kr)utzchen (krutzeln, krutzeln 'kitz- 
eln'). Schr. 129. 

133. Steir. kremeisseln 'langsam hemmgreifen, tandeln': 
krem- (krammen 'kratzen') + *(kr)ouzeln (mhd. krouz 
'Krebs'). Schr. 130. 

134. Els. kremisi ' Missgestalt ; melancholischer Mensch': 
bair. krem(mi) 'krampfig, zsgezogen, steif von langem Knieen, 
Sitzen, Liegen in gekriiramter u. gezvmngener Stellung; 
zsgeschrumpft, mager, kranklich, schwachlich' (mhd. kram, 
krimmen etc.) -f- *(kr)isi (zu mhd. krlsen 'kriechen'?). 

135. Mecklenb. krawaugeln 'kriechen,' altmark. krawauln 
'von Kindern gebraucht, die aus Ubermut sich im Bette hin u. 
her walzen, dabei jauchzend u. singend allerlei Kurzweil trei- 
ben; von Erwachsenen gebraucht man es, wenn ein arbeits- 
fahiger stets beschaftigt ist, ohne etwas Ordentliches zu leis- 
ten': meckl. kraw(weln) 'krauen, krabbeln, kriechen' -f- alt- 
mark, (kr)auln 'kriechen, klettern, bes. von Kindern ge- 
braucht, welche die Hande gebrauchen, um sich fortzubewe- 
gen; sich viel beschaftigen, unaufhorlich in Tatigkeit sein, 
mit dem Nebenbegriff, dass die Arbeit eben keine schwere 
war' (hamburg. kraueln 'kriechen, klettern, arbeitsam sich 
bewegen,' ne. crawl 'kriechen'). Schr. 223. 

136. Flam. dial, kraivietelen 'kriewelen, krevelen,' 'jucken, 
stechen': iinl. craw (en) (crauwen) 'krauen, kratzen' -(- 
*(kr)ietelen (mnl. criten 'eine Kreislinie machen,' mhd. kri- 



312 Wood 

zen dass. ; auch 'kratzen,' ahd. krizzon 'einritzen,' nhd. krit- 
zeln 'kratzend fein schreiben,' norw. kritla 'kribbeln, jucken'). 

137. Wflam. krawijtelen 'gedurig en gemeenlijk op eenen 
klagenden toon een kleen keelgeluid geven, kriemen': mnl. 
crauw(en) 'kwaken, van kikkers; rommelen, van darmen' -|- 
(cr)lten 'weinen. ' 

138. Wflam. kremijtelen 'was Urawijtelen' : krem- (mnl. ker- 
men carmen 'wehklagen') -}- *(kr)ijtelen (mnl. criten). 

139. Wflam. krevikkelen 'met den vinger, meet een mes, 
enz. aan lets peuteren, krabben of kerven': krev(elen) 'krau- 
en, kratzen' + *(kr)ikkelen (mnd. krtken 'streicheln,' ndl. 
zaan. krikkemikken 'sich hin u. her bewegen'). 

140. Wflam. krevittelen 'was krevikkelen': krev(elen) -\- 
*(kr)ittelen, Dem. von kritten 'schaben, kratzen' etc. Vgl. 
Nr. 136. 

141. Wflam. krevitselen ' sterk krevelen, ' ' krauen, krabbeln, ' 
krevitsel 'kitzlig, empfindlich, murrisch': krev(elen) -f~ 
(kr)itsen 'twist zoeken of maken, tergende of spottende met 
iemand handelen. ' Vgl. Nr. 136. 

142. Wflam. kwabbedoel ' wabbelachtig mensch, iemand die 
vadsig is en slap van vleesch' : kwabbe(l) 'een klomp die, door 
zijn inwendig vocht of vet, licht bewogen wordt en rilt' (o- 
fries. kivabbel 'Wamme, Wange, weicher Fett- oder Fleisch- 
wulst, weicher Klumpen etc., namentl. unter dem Halse; eine 
Person, die sehr dick, feist, schwerfallig u. unbehiilflich ist 
u. an der alles quabbelt,' wfal. kwabbel 'fetter, hervorschwel- 
lender Korperteil' etc.) -f wflam. doel ' Dreckhauf en ; Erdhii- 
gel; Gesass ('agger, aggesta terra, in quam sagittarii iaculan- 
tur sagittas' Kil.). 

143. Wflam. kwadoel 'was kwabbedoel; Gesass': mnL 
qua (dele) 'pukkel, puist' (ahd. chwadilla quedilla 'Haut- 
blaschen') -f wflam. doel. Vgl. bes. rhein. quattel 'kleines, 
dickes Kind,' schwab. quattle 'dicker, fetter Junge mit wat- 
schelndem Gang,' Nr. 145. 

144. Els. quadeterle (kwdtetdrld) ' Gefangniss ' : steir. qua- 
(tra) 'Gefangnis' +els. (ka~)thederle (khdtetdrh) 'Gefang- 
nis, Zuchthaus.' 

145. Els. quadeterle 'Gesass': schwab. qua(ttle) 'ein dick- 
er, fetter Junge mit watschelndem Gang' (quatten 'fetter, 



Kontaminationsbildungen und Mischformen 313 

voller Bauch,' schweiz. quadi 'vornehm gekleideter, vornehm 
tuender Mann ; herrschsiichtiger Mann ; (grosser) dicker, vier- 
schrotiger Mann') -f- els. *deterle 'eine weiche Masse' (dat- 
terig ddtterig 'zitternd; weich, teigig, von Obst,' schwab. 
ddterig 'sehr weich, etwa von Butter oder ganz jungem Kalb- 
fleisch' etc. s. Nr. 32). 

146. Els. quadutter 'breites Hosengesass, der Hintere; ei- 
ner der in alien Dingen hinten nach kommt, ' quadutteri ' dick- 
er Junge,' quadutterig 'weit u. lose anliegend, von Kleidungs- 
stiicken, bes. Hosen': schwab. qua(ttle) -\- els. duller 'der 
Hintere; aufgebundene Haartracht,' dutterig 'weit, von Klei- 
dungsstiicken, ' dutteri 'langsamer Mensch; Schwachling, ' dut- 
tere n 'vor Kalte zittern; unpers. bange sein,' duttele n 'lang- 
sam gehn; nachlassig arbeiten,' duttlig 'langsam, unbeholfen; 
dumm' etc., germ. Wz. dud- 'schiitteln; zittern, schlottern, 
etc.' Vgl. Nr. 33. 

147. Schweiz. chustiere n 'kosten, schmecken,' 'ch(oste n ) 
'kosten' -{- (g)ustiere n dass. 

148. Schweiz. Idbuschi 'lappischer Kerl, Tolpel': ldb(et] 
'einfaltig, lappisch' -|- (l)uschi ' Schimpfwort auf ein Weib, 
Metze, Dime.' Schr. 43. 

149. Els. ladutteri 'langer Mensch': la (tie) 'Latte; gros- 
se, schlanke Person' -{- dutteri 'langsamer Mensch; Schwach- 
ling.' 

150. Els. lapanturi 'langer, dummer Mensch': laband(er) 
'langer, schlaffer Mensch' (woriiber s. Mod. Phil. IX, 183) -f 
els. (l)uri 'Faulenzer, langsamer Mensch' (lure n 'heimlich 
aufpassen; faulenzen; halb schlafen, halb wachen'). 

151. Els. Idppdprisch 'elend, schwach': Idpp(isch) 'unor- 
dentlich; matt, entkraftet; lau' -|- *(l}dprisch, (lapperig 
' schlaff , kraf tlos ' ) . Schr. 206f . 

152. Els. Idppdtisch (lapatis) 'lappisch, verkehrt; unwohl, 
schief : ld(pp)isch -\- bet (pat) 'miide, matt, ausgesogen, mit- 
tellos, beim Bete-Spiel ; unf ahig, beiseite geschoben. ' 

153. Els. madaiidel 'dummes Madchen': ma(dam) (vgl. 
dreckmadam, hosenmadam 'jiingeres Madchen, das zu lange 
Unterhosen tragt,' hundsmaddmmel ' auf geputztes, unnatiir- 
liches Frauenzimmer ' etc. Els. Wb. I, 650) -j- daiidel 'gei- 
stig beschrankter Mensch.' Vgl. badaudel Nr. 30. 



314 Wood 

154. Els. madiille ' unbedeutende, krankliche Person; wider- 
liche Frau; trage, schlappe Weibsperson ' : ma(dam) -f- 
schwab. dull 1 'Dohle; Sehimpfwort fiir Weiber: faule, lum- 
pige; wiiste; liederliche. ' 

155. Els. madilt (mdtyt) 'dummes Madchen': ma (dam) -{- 
dutt (tyt) 'dummes Madchen' (dutti 'dummes Frauenzim- 
mer,' dottel ' geistesschwacher Mensch; dummer Mensch,' 
daudel datidel etc. Nr. 30). 

156. Luxemb. malakech 'krank, schlecht aufgelegt': frz. 
mal(ade) -\- lux. (m) dkech 'matt, schwach.' 

157. Karat, manusch'ln 'etwas verstohlen tun': steir. man- 
(teln) heimlich listige Handgriffe tun, um zu tauschen, an et- 
was heimlich herumgreifen, um Verwechslungen vorzunehmen 
(z. B. um falsch zu spielen), heimlich verwirren, falschend 
vermengen oder mengen' (auch manken) -j- hess. (m)u- 
scheln ' heimlich, bes. aber betriigerisch verf ahren. ' Schr. 50. 

158. Wflam. marankel maronkel 'verhaal zonder slot of zin, 
ongerijmd verdichtsel, dwaze leugen': mar(ien) 'murmeln' 
-|- mnl. (m)onken 'murren, verdriesslich sein' (friihnl. monck- 
elen 'leise, heimlich reden,' nhd. munkeln). Dass gleichbed. 
marantsel ist eine Kreuzung von ma(rankel) -)- rantsel, s. 
Nr. 186. 

159. Koln. marauz, Dem. mar'duzche ^seltsam gemustertes 
Frauenzimmer, gewohnlich ein Ausdruck fiir Puppe': frz. 
mar(ionette) 'an Drahten gezogene Theaterpuppe mit be- 
weglichen Gliedern' (Marion, luxemb. marjongeli 'lacherlich 
aufgeputztes Frauenzimmer') -f nhd. dial, (m)auze 'vulva.' 
Schr. 50. 

160. Luxemb. marjutzel 'leichtsinniges Frauenzimmer': 
marj(ongeli) 'lacherlich aufgeputztes Frauenzimmer' -f- bair. 
(m)utzel 'vulva' (mutz, mutzen dass.). 

161. Els. maritzle n 'verderben, zerreissen': bair. mer(ren) 
'in Unordnung bringen, verderben' -f- els. (m)iitzle n 'verder- 
ben, verstoren, zerreissen.' Schr. 51. Oder aus els. mar(ixle n ) 
+ (m)iltzle n . 

162. Nordhsn. marunkel 'grosse Pflaume,' thiir. marunke, 
marunkel ' Eierpflaume, ' 'Art kleiner gelber Aprikosen; gros- 
se gelbe Eierpflaume' Weigand 5 II, 137: mar(ille) 'Aprikose' 
+ (m)unk, (m)tmkel 'breit u. dick.' Die Nebenformen 



Kontaminationsbildungen und Mischformen 315 

malonken hat ihr I von mellele bei Duez 30 (vgl. Weigand a. 
a. 0.) Schr. 51. 

163. Wflam. maskuize 'malheur, accident': mesch(ief) 
'malheur, facheuse aventure' (frz. mechef) -4- (mes)uis 'mis- 
bruik, laakbare doening, wanbedrijf (Kil. mesus 'abusus, 
delictum,' frz. mesus). Westol. Id. 2 589. 

164. Luxemb. matutsch 'altes, zahnloses Weib,' matut- 
schech 'alt u. zahnlos': els. mat(sche n ) 'mit zahnlosem Mun- 
de kauen; zu Brei kauen' (mdtschel 'alte Frau') -(- mhd. 
(m)utsche 'ein Brot von geringerer Grosse u. Beschaffenheit ; 
miirbes Geback in dreieckiger oder Halbmondf orm ' (els. 
motsche n mutsche n l missratener, schlecht gebackener Laib 
Brot; untersetzter, dicker, kurzer, plumper Mensch,' damp- 
miitschel ' Dampfnudel, ' mutschig 'schlecht gebacken' etc.). 

165. Wflam. padoel 'der Hintere, Gesass': lat. po(dex)^. -f- 
wflam. doel 'Gesass.' Vgl. kwabbedoel, kwadoel, Nr. 142, 143. 

166. Wflam. palodderen 'streicheln, schmeicheln, ' 'cajoler': 
mnl. pa(leren) 'aufputzen, schmiicken; polieren' -f- lodderen 
' Possenreissen ' (lodderlicken aensien 'molli adspicere vnltu, 
blandis aspicere ocellis, ' mhd. loter ' Schelm ; Gaukler, Possen- 
reisser'). 

167. Wflam. paloesteren 'lamoezen, paluffen, streelen,' 
'cajoler': mnl. pal(eren) -}- (pl)uusteren 'pluizen, plukken' 
(nl. pluizen 'Flocken abpfliicken; schlicht kratzen,' friilinl. 
pluysen 'polire, comere, ornare, mundare, scalpere, tergere, 
detergere, extergere' Kilian). 

168. Wflam. paluffen 'streicheln, liebkosen; schmeicheln: 
schmeichelnd betriigen, foppen': mnl. pal(eren) 'polieren, 
glatten' -f- (bl)uffen 'schlagen, klopfen' (nd. bluff en 'durch 
Gebarden u. Wort Furcht einjagen, poltern' etc.). 

169. Wflam. palul 'ein plumper, trager Mensch,' preuss. 
pelull ' schlaf miitziger, beschrankter Mensch, langsam in Gang, 
Rede u. bei der Arbeit': pa- (woher?) -4- wfl. lul 'lamlendige 
vent, die lui en traag is in 't werk, sammelaar, treuzelaar, ' lul- 
len 'slap en traag zijn in 't werk, geenen voortgang maken, 
zijnen tijd verluieren en vertalmen,' ofries. liillen 'seine Zeit 
mit Faseleien u. sonstigen Dummheiten od. Narrheiten ver- 
bringen, tandeln, ' ne. lott ' trage liegen. ' 



316 Wood 

170. Wflam. palulle ' Pf annkuchen ' : pa(lette) 'Pfannku- 
chen' -|- lulle dass. 

171. Wflam. palulle 'Lappen, Fetzen': pa- -f- ofries. lulle 
'Fetzen, Lappen, bz. schlechtes, wertloses, unniitzes Etwas.' 

172. Wflam. palullen 'aus Scherz od. Mutwillen plagen, rei- 
zen, qualen,' aan iets gepaluld zijn 'an etwas betrogen sein': 
pa- -f- lullen 'schwatzen, faseln; betriigen,' ofries. liillen 
'schwatzen, faseln, liigen; beschwatzen, hinters Licht fiihren, 
zum Besten haben, vexiren.' Mnl. palullen 'sich aufzieren, 
sich herausputzen ' (aus paler en 'aufputzen, -zieren' -f- ?) 
gehort nicht hierher. 

173. Schles. pamuchel 'Duckmauser, geduckter Mensch,' 
altmark. pomochl 'ein kurzes dickes Kind,' preuss. pamuchel 
pomuchel 'eine Dorschart': nl. po(chel) 'Buckel, Hocker' 
(mnd. poche 'Blatter, Pustel,' ae. pohha 'pouch, bag' etc.) -j- 
muchel (nl. moggel 'dickes fettes Kind, Watschel, eine Frau 
mit schlotterndem Fettbauch,' schles. muchel ' Scheltwort, et- 
wa: tiickischer Mensch,' mdh. mocke 'Klumpen; bildl. plum- 
per, ungebildeter Mensch'). Schr. 52f. 

174. Schles. pamuffel 'Duckmauser, geduckter Mensch,' 
pamuffelsgeschichte 'Schelte,' pomuffelskoppe 'Spitzname der 
Gollnower in Pommern' (etwa 'Dickkopfe') : po(mmel) 
(wfal. pommel pummel 'rundes Ding,' hamb. pummel 'kleines 
rundes Ding od. Mensch,' ofries pummel pummel 'ein kurzes, 
dickes, untersetztes, unformliches u. rundlich-volles Etwas od. 
Ding,' pummelig 'dick, rund, unformlich u. watschelig, bz. 
aufgetrieben, aufgebauscht od. bauschig, locker, nachlassig,' 
preuss. pummel 'etwas Umwickeltes, Bepummeltes; kleines 
dickes Kind, kleiner dicker Mensch,' pammlich 'dicht, dick, 
voll, ' daneben germ, pamp-, pump- in preuss. pumpel ' kleiner, 
im Wachstum zuriickgebliebener Mensch; Person, die viele 
Kleider unformlich iiber einander gezogen hat,' pumpel 'T61- 
pel,' ofries. pumpel 'dicke, plumpe, watschelig gehende Per- 
son, od. auch dicke, plumpe, nachlassig gekleidete Person,' 
els. pfumpf 'Stoss; knorriger Auswuchs an einem Baum- 
stamm; kleine, kugelige Nase; dicker, kleiner Kerl,' schwab. 
pfumpf el 'grober, unbehilflicher Mensch,' norw. dial, pump 
'liden tyk og tung figur, ' pumpen, schwed. dial, pampen 'auf- 
geschwollen' etc.) -}- els. muff el 'hasslicher Mund, Maul.' 



Kontaminationsbildungen und Mischformen 317 

Oder pom(mel) -f- (p)uffel (nd. puffen ' auf bauschen, ' puff 
'Bausch' etc.). Schr. 54. 

175. Wflam. patoefelen 'teedertjes bezorgen, kloesteren, 
toefelen,' 'zartlich pflegen, giitlich tun': pa- (vielleicht aus 
pamperen 'bekeukelen steukelen, kloesteren, teedertjes bezor- 
gen') -j- toefelen 'lamoezen, teedertjes toeven, bekukkelen, 
vriendelijk dienen en bezorgen, kloesteren' (toeven 'liefkozen, 
toef doen,' 'blandiri' Kil.). Oder hier wird vielleicht pa als 
ein Prafix gefiihlt: pa-lodderen, pa-loesteren, pa-luff en. 

176. Wflam. patuit 'wordt gezeid van iets dat kleen is,' 
'Knirps': frz. pet (it) -f- wflam. (p)wi< 'Knirps.' 

177. Wflam. perdjakken perdjokken (auch ker-djakken, 
-djokken, woriiber s. Mod. Phil. IX, 189ff.) 'geweltig djokken, 
hard schokken, hossebossen, ' 'cahoter': per- (mnl. porren 'be- 
wegen, riihren,' wflani. porren purren pirren dass., preuss. 
pernen 'jagen,' mnd. porren purren 'mit einem spitzen In- 
strumente in eine Sache stecken od. in ihr herumwiihlen, ' dan. 
purre 'riihren, storen' etc) -|- djakken 'faire claquer le gros 
fouet,' djokken 'hard stooten, schokken,' 'choquer, heurter.' 
Oder per- kann hier ein Prafix sein oder wenigstens als sol- 
ches gefiihlt werden. Ahnlicherweise in den folgenden : 
Wflam. pardaffen, pardaven, par-, perdoeven 'knallen; mit 
lautem Gerausch niederschlagen oder fallen': doef 'Stoss, 
Schlag,' ofries. dafen daven 'klopfen, pochen, stossen, stam- 
pfen, Gerausch machen, poltern, drohnen, schiittern,' dafern 
'klopfen, hammern; drohnen, zittern,' mnd. daveren 'ein zit- 
terndes Gerausch machen,' nl. daveren ' erschuttert, bewegt 
werden, beben, drohnen' etc.). Hierher gehoren natiirlich 
pardaf, pardoef. Pernokkelen, nukkelen ' preutelen, morren, ' 
'murmurer': nl. nokken 'schluchzen,' mnd. nucken 'seine Un- 
zufriedenheit aussern durch Kopfschiitteln, Murmeln.' Nl. 
pardoes perdoes 'pardauz!,' mnd. pardus: friihnl. doesen 
'pulsare cum impetu et fragore' Kil. Danach bildet sich par- 
dauz aus pard(us) -\- (b}auz oder (pl)auz. Zaan parlot per- 
lot 'Anteil, Portion': lot 'Los, Anteil (hier eigentlich aus 
par(te) 'Teil' -f- lot). Preuss. pardompel 'Diimpel, Pfiitze 
mit schmutzigem Wasser': dompel 'Tiimpel, Wasserloch, 
Pfiitze.' Permucksch 'muckisch, miirrisch, maulend': 



318 Wood 

mucksch dass., mucken 'in halblauten, vereinzelten Tonen iib- 
ele Laune zeigen.' Perwupps, pawupps: ivupps. 

178. Wflam. perlompen 'plompen, in 't water plotsen': 
per- Prafix -f- (p)lompen. Danach perdjompen 'plompen': 
perdj(okken) s. oben -}- (perl)ompen oder (pl)ompen. 

179. Wflam. pernuttelen 'pruttelen, knoteren,' 'murmurer, 
grommeler': pern(ukkelen) s. oben -f- (pr)uttelen 'brodeln, 
sieden; murmeln' (mnl. protelen 'pruttelen,' nl. portelen 
preutelen dass., mnd. protelen 'schwatzen, plaudern,' proten 
'schwatzen,' mnl. proten dass., nhd. protzeln etc.). 

180. Wflam. poeljompen 'plompen, plonzen': poel(en) 
'plassen, plompen' -f (perd) jompen 'plompen.' Wahrschein- 
lich sind paldjompen, poldjompen, paltjompen 'plompen, 
plonzen' aus polteren (groning. 'al spoelende wassehen,' nhd. 
poltern) -f- perdjompen. 

181. Preuss. podempel 'Sumpf, Pfiitze': luxemb. pu(ddel) 
'Pfiitze' (lux. puddeln 'manschen, im Wasser herumriihren, ' 
ofries. pudeln puddeln 'schiittelnd u. platschernd baden od. 
waschen,' ne. puddle 'Pfiitze, Schlammloch, ' els. pfuttel 'Hau- 
fen Kot,' schwab. pfudel 'Kanal, Dohle Pfiitze' etc.) + 
preuss. dompel 'Tiimpel, Pfiitze.' Oder podempel Nebenform 
von perdempel, s. oben. 

182. Magdeb-nd. rabantern 'geschaftig, unruhig sein': rab- 
(vgl. nhd. rabbeln 'sich hurtig hin- u. herbewegen; sich ge- 
schaftig um jem. bemiihen; sich unverniinftig gebaren,' 
schweiz. r'dbeln 'larmen, poltern,' els. rapple" 'dass.; tanzen,' 
rappel 'Geklapper; larmender Tanz; narrischer, verriickter 
Einfall,' nl. rabbeln 'geschwind u. unverstandlich reden' etc., 
mhd. reben 'sich riihren') -j- wfal. (r)antern 'sich herum- 
tummeln, balgen; schwatzen' (ne. rant 'hochtrabend sprechen, 
schwarmen, wiiten'). 

In ahnlicher Weise bilden sich: Thiir. rabanzen 'geschaftig 
sein, larmend wirthschaf ten, ' els. rawanze n 'tolles Wesen 
treiben, herum rasen': rob- -f- mhd. (r}anzen 'ungestiim hin 
u. her springen'; nass. rhein. rabdschen 'geschaftig sein,' 
leipz. rawaschen 'larmen, jagen bes. von Kindern, wie tobsen': 
rob- -f- (r)aschen 'eilig, rasch wozu kommen; Gerausch ma- 
chen, rasseln, klirren'; preuss. rabasen rabosen 'tollen, rasen, 
larmen,' els. rabose" larmend streiten, von Kindern': rob- -f- 



Kontaminationsbildungen und Mischformen 319 

(r)asen; preuss. rabasseln rabasteln ' gerauschvoll hantieren, 
larmend herumwirtschaften, rasselnd arbeiten, mit Gerausch 
aufraumen': rob- -f- (r)asseln, (r)asteln (schweiz. rasten 
'kerne Ruhe geniessen, in einer anhaltenden Bewegung begrif- 
fen sein') ; oberhess rabastern 'zanken, streiten,' rabaster 
'jem., der vor aller Geschaftigkeit nie zur Ruhe kommt etc.': 
rab- -f- altmark. (r) astern 'rasseln, ; schles. rabatzen 'tatig, 
geschaftig sein,' rumrabatzen ' herumschaffern, geschaftig u. 
tatig sich bewegen, ' berlin. 'wild spielen, wie die Kinder z. 
B. auf dem Sofa tun,': rab- -f- nass. (r)atzen refl. 'sich zum 
Zeitvertreib mit jem. herumreissen, jagen, toben (im guten 
Sinne), sich wechselweise necken, wie z. B. junge Leute, Ver- 
liebte tun; berlin. rabauz 'grober Kerl,' schweiz. rabauzen 'be- 
zeichnet das Wesen eines Menschen, der auffahrend u. rasch, 
reizbar u. empfindlich mehr in Worten u. Gebarden als in 
Handlungen ist, zum Teil das "Wesen eines cholerischen Tem- 
peraments': rab- -j- schweiz (r)autzen 'in einem auffahren- 
den, pochenden Tone sprechen'; thiir. rabessen 'tiichtig ar- 
beiten': rab- -f- (r)essen 'graben, hauen'; mnd. rabuse, hoist. 
rebuus rabuus 'Unruhe u. gerauschvolle Verwirrung': rab- -f- 
ofries. ruse 'Gerausch, Larm, Unruhe, Getiimmel, Wirrwarr, 
Unordnung' etc. Schr. 58ff. 

183. Wflam. rabotsen rabotselen, ravotsen ravotselen 'bad- 
iner, folatrer d'une maniere bruyante; faire du tintamarre, 
du tapage': rab- wie oben -j- (r)otsen 'hard rijden te wagen 
of te peerde ; hard loopen te voet. ' 

184. Wflam. rabuischen 'Larm machen': rab- -\- (r)uischen 
'brausen, rauschen.' 

185. Bair. rabatschen ' Spottbenennung einer altlichen 
Weibsperson ' : lothr. lux. rab(bel) 'altes, abgenutztes Gerat; 
leichtsinniges Frauenzimmer' (lothr. rabbeldorr 'rappel- 
dtirr, sehr diirr od. mager,' rabbelich 'was leicht klappert,' 
weil schlecht befestigt' etc.) -f bair. (r)adschen 'schwatzhaf- 
te Person' (ratschen radschen 'klappern, schwatzen,' tirol. 
rdtsch ' geschwatzige Alte ' etc. ) . Schr. 62f . 

186. Wflam. ramantsel 'hetzelfde als rantsel, rantel, dwaas 
verhall, dwaze praat,' 'albernes Geschwatz,' nl. flam, ram- 
(melen) 'schelten, larmen, klappern, plappern' (ofries. ram- 
meln 'wiederholt u. ofters stossen, schlagen, klopfen od. mit 



320 Wood 

Larm hin u. her stossen od. schlagen, klappern, larmen') -f- 
wflam. (r)antsel 'dwaze praat,' 'radotage. ' 

187. Wflam. ramenten 'met handen en voeten hevig wer- 
ken en gedruisch maken, om ergens door-, los-, uit- of in te 
geraken,' ofries. ramenten rementen ramentern 'Unruhe u. 
Larm machen, toben, rumoren, herumreissen, wiihlen, riit- 
teln, zurechtsetzen, strafen,' wflam. rementen 'poltern' etc: 
ram(melen) wie oben -j- mnl. (r) ant en 'zotteklap uitslaan, 
kletsen' (wfal. rantern 'sich herumtummeln, balgen,' mhd. 
ranzen 'ungestiim hin u. her springen'). 

188. Wflam. ramijsteren 'een verward rammelend gedruisch 
maken,' 'klappern, rasseln': ram(melen) -f- *(r)ijsteren 
(rijsselen 'strepere, strepitare, strepitum edere; strepitu quo- 
dam leui moueri, ut virgulae, frondes, stramina; submissum 
murmur edere, ut frondes' Kil., an. hrista 'schiitteln,' got. 
-hrisjan dass.). 

189. Wflam. ramutselen ' scharmiitzeln, sich balgen': ram- 
(melen) -f- (scherm)utselen 'scharmiitzeln.' 

190. Wflam. ramoer 'rumoer, gedruisch, geraas,' ramoeren 
'rumoren,' (Kil) rammoer 'rumor, turba, tumultus, strepitus,' 
rammoeren tumultuari,' lux. ramo"ren 'rumoren; beim Su- 
chen einer Sache mit Gerausch alles durcheinanderwerf en, ' 
steir. gramuri 'Geriimpel, Plunderzeug; Unordnung, wiistes 
Durcheinander, ' gramuren 'Unordnung machen, durcheinan- 
derwerf en, wiihlend suchen, rumoren': ram(melen) 'tumult- 
uari, perstrepere, crepitare, murmurare' Kil. (vgl. Nr. 186) 
4- (rum)oer 'rumor, turba' Kil. etc. 

191. Lux. ramoschteren 'rumoren,' lothr. ramoschtern 
'larmen, toben': lothr. ram(oren) dass. (lux. ramoeren etc.) 
-f (r)oschtern (altmark. rastern 'rasseln,' meckl. rastern 'lar- 
men,' geraster 'Larm, Gerausch,' lauenb. rastern 'rasseln, 
rappeln, klappern'). 

192. Mhd. rambuzen 'wild umherspringen, ' els. rumpuse" 
'poltern, larmen,' basl. rumpuse rumbuse rumpouse 'argen 
Larm verfiihren, zanken, raufen': ramb-, rumb- (mnl. ram- 
belen 'Gerausch machen,' els. ramble n 'sich auf dem Boden, 
der Erde walzen,' rambler, Larmmacher,' rambole n 'larmen, 
toben, Specktakel machen,' aus ramb- -)- (gramb)ole' 1 'Larm 
machen' [frz. carambole] ; mhd. rumpeln 'mit Ungestiim, ge- 



Kontaminationsbildungen und Miscliformen 321 

rauschvoll sich bewegen od. fallen, larmen, poltern, rumbe- 
lisch 'larmend, polternd,' ne. rumble 'rumpeln, rasseln') -f- 
mhd. (r)uzen 'em Gerausch machen, rauschen; eilig u. mit 
Gerausch sich bewegen.' Schr. 73. 

193. Oberhess. rambastern 'zanken, streiten': ramb- wie 
oben -(- nd. (r} astern 'larmen,' s. Nr. 191. Schr. 61f. 

194. Rampampsen 'stopfen, aufhaufen' in thiir. geram- 
bambste voll 'gehauft voll': ram (sen} (els. z u samme n ramse n 
'zusammenraffen,' oder ram- aus bair. ramp fen 'raff en') -|- 
preuss. pampsen 'viel essen; einstopfen: zunachst in den Ma- 
gen, aber auch in Tasche od. Sack,' bair. pampfen 'stopfen, 
schoppen,' els. pfumpf 'Stoss; knorriger Auswuchs,' pfum- 
pfe n 'stossen; einstecken, mit Miihe hineinpressen, ' gepfumpft 
'gedrangt voll' etc., s. Nr. 174. Schr. 208. 

195. Steir. ramsampel ' mutwilliger, iibermiitig, lustiger, tol- 
ler junger Mensch, wilder Unordnungsstifter': basl. rams (en} 
'um die Wette laufen' (els. ummeramse" 'umher laufen,' 
rdmser ' Springinsf eld, ' bair. rumsen rumseln 'von Personen: 
scherzen, sich mutwillig balgen; von Schweinen, Hunden, 
Katzen: nach der Begattung verlangen, sich begatten') -\- 
(r}ampel (mnl. rambelen Gerausch machen,' els. ramble 11 
'sich auf dem Boden, der Erde walzen,' nhd. rumpeln etc., 
s. Nr. 192. 

196. Preuss. wfal. els. randal 'Larm, Skandal': schles. rant 
'Larm,' bair. ost. rant 'larmender Spass' -|- (skand)al. Wei- 
gand Wb. 6 II, 523. 

197. Els. randese" 'larmend umherlaufen, von Kindern u. 
Erwachsenen; auch vom Vieh, larmen' (rantes9 rdntesd) : 
bair. ran (ten} 'mutwillige Streiche treiben' (rant 'larmen- 
der Spass' etc.) -j- els. tose n (tes9 tes9} 'drohnen; larmen,' 
nhd. tosen. Els. Wb. II, 265, 720. 

198. Ne. dial, rantdcket 'noise, uproar': rant 'a rough fro- 
lic, noise' -(- (r}acket 'noise.' 

199. Els. raubose" 'in den Reben oberflachlich arbeiten; ein 
Hemd eilig u. schlecht biigeln; das Grobste beseitigen': 
raub(ere n } iibermassig arbeiten, schwer u. hastig schaffen' 
-)- (r}asen (els. rds9 ros9 'rasen,' verrase n ' zerknittern, unor- 
dentlich durcheinander werfen). Schr. 59f. 

200. Wflam. ravaaien, raveelen 'zijne kleederen onteeren, 



322 Wood 

vuil maken, schenden en scheuren': rav(elen) 'schrapen, 
scharten' + (r)eeuwen 'bederven, schenden, zwaarlijk be- 
schadigen,' 'gater, abimer.' 

201. Friihnl. ravot revot 'caterva sive turba nebulonum, 
conciliabuluni flagitiosorum, sentina sceleratorum ; recepta- 
eulum nebulonum, lupanar,' ravotten ' tumultuari ; luxuriari, 
popinari': rav(elen) 'aestuare, agitari; circumcursare ; deli- 
rare, furere etc.' -|- (r)otte(n). 

202. Schwab, robosteln 'die Haare zerzausen, verrwirren, ' 
verrobostlet 'zerzaust, etwa vom Wind': steir. ro(beln) 'rau- 
fen' (bair. robler 'Bursche, der sich auf seine Starke u. Ge- 
wandtheit im Ringen u. Raufen was zu gute tun darf, Rauf- 
held,' schweiz. rubel 'Mensch mit krausen Haaren,' schwab. 
ropfen 'sich tiichtig herumschlagen, an den Haaren reissen' 
etc.) -f- schwab. ver-bostle n 'zerzausen, z. B. Haare, Kleider. ' 
Schr. 60. 

203. Nl. dial, groning. ronkonkel 'klein ongeluk, door stoo- 
ten, fallen enz.' els. rungunkel (ruokuokel) (grosse Kuh- 
glocke': runk(el) -f- (r)unkel zu nl. ronkelen 'rummeln, 
dumpf rollend u. polternd tonen; tr. rumpeln, rumpelnd 
durcheinander werfen,' wflam. ronkeronken 'gedurig een ge- 
ronk geven, herhaaldelijk ronken; het ronkeronken van eene 
bomklok.' Schr. 219. 

204. Bair. rumpumpel ' Spottbenennung eines alten "Weibes, ' 
steir. 'altes, runzeliges, iibellaunisches Weib; membrum fem- 
inale': steir. rum (pel) ' Drahtgeflecht zum Durchwerfen, 
Wurfgitter; altes Weib' + pumpel 'membrum feminale.' 
Schr. 215. 

205. Els. rungunkele 'scherzh. Bezeichnung fiir sehr dicke 
Personen': thiiring. sachs. run(ke) ' iibermassiges Stiick Brot' 
(sachs. schles. runks 'dickes u. grosses Stiick Brot; vierschro- 
tiger, plumper u. ungehobelter, grober Mensch') -|- schweiz. 
gunggele n 'etwas Baumelndes; trage, nachlassig u. schmutzig 
gekleidete Weibsperson, ' schwab. gunkele n 'hin u. her sch wan- 
ken,' bair. gaunkel 'grosse, ungeschickte Weibsperson.' 

206. Nhd. runkunkel 'altes runzliges Weib, alte Vettel' 
Weigand 5 II, 626, 'altes, miirrisches Weib' Frischbier II, 
238, steir. rungunkel 'altes, runzeliges, iibellauniges Weib' 



Kontaminationsbildungen und Mischformen 323 

Unger-Khull 513: rungg(en) 'brummen, murren' -(- (r)unkel 
(mhd. runke 'Runzel'). Schr. 219ff. 

207. Els. salwiege n (sdlwlakd) ' durchpriigeln ' : salw(d] 
'salben; durchpriigeln' -(- (sm)ik9 'einen Schlag mit der 
Peitsche versetzen' (zu erwarten ware *smiak9, vgl. smidkd 
'vernarbte Wunde,' mhd. smicke 'Geissel; Schmiss, Wunde'). 

208. Wflam. schabinderen schavinderen 'weglaufen, wegei- 
len': mnl. schav(en) 'schaben; sich paeken, scheren' -(- 
(sch)inderen 'flackern, leuchten; krachen, schmettern' (spat- 
mhd. schindern 'polternd schleppen, schleifen,' md. schindern 
'auf dem Else hingleiten'). 

209. Wflam. schabouwlijk 'afgrijselijk, schromelijk, ' 'hor- 
rible, epouvantable ' : schab(bigh) 'scabiosus' Kil. (wflam. 
schebbig 'apre et raide, dur et rude,' ofries. schabbig 'schabig 
od. raudig; armselig, elend') -(- (sch)ouwelick 'horridus, hor- 
ribilis' Kil. (schouwen schuwen 'vitare, devitare, evitare, fu- 
gere' etc.). 

210. Bair. schalanzen 'schlendern, miissig gehen,' karat. 
schalunzen dass. : schwab. schal(lare) * Mannsperson mit 
schleppendem Gang' (mnd. schale schaler schaller schaloen 
'herumstreifender Possenreisser') -f- (schl)anzen, (schl)unzen 
'miissig gehen.' Schr. 180f. 

211. Bair. schallatzen 'schlendern, miissig gehen': schwab. 
schall(are) -[ karnt. (schl)atz'n (schletz'n) herumschweifen, 
nachlassig sein' (mnd. slatte 'Lumpen, Fetzen, ' nnd. slatterig 
'schlaff, welk, schmutzig' etc. Schr. 1811 

212. Schaluderi, basl. tschlaluderi 'Schelte: einfaltiger, 
dummer, unzuverlassiger Mensch': schwab. schal(lare) -f~ 
*(sch)uderi (basl. tschudeli 'nachlassige Weibsperson, els. 
schudi 'dummes Madchen'). Schr. 76. 

213. Karnt. schalaz'n 'sich mit jemand unterhalten, ' steir. 
scholatzen scholotzen ' unverstandlich reden': bair. schal(len) 
' herumplaudern, ausplaudern' -(- (sch)atzen 'reden, sprechen, 
sich unterreden,' steir. 'reden, sprechen, plauschen.' Schr. 
1811 

214. Wflam. schamakke 'makke, schaperschup, teulschup,' 
'houlette': scha- (vielleicht aus mnl. schacht 'Schaft, Stange') 
+ makke 'schaperschup, eene schup met kleen blad en Ian- 
gen steel,' 'houlette.' 



324 Wood 

215. Nhd. scharlenzen ' gef allsiichtig u. leicht beweglich sich 
bald da bald dorthin wenden': schar(ren) (vgl. bes. scharr- 
fusz 'Kratzfusz, altmodische Hoflichkeitsbezeugung') -(- 
(sch)lenzen. Schr. 182. 

216. Pomm. schrajeken 'laut untereinander schreien u. la- 
chen': wflam. schre(jen) 'schreien' (oder nd. schrauen 'laut, 
ungebiihrlich schreien') -f- *(schr}eken (gott. schrekeln 
'schreien, krachzen, kreischen'). Preuss. scharrjdken 'rasen, 
tollen, wild u. unordentlich sich benehmen' gehort kaum hier- 
her. Vgl. vielmehr nd. scheren 'eilen, laufen' -|- schles. jechen 
' schnell laufen oder reiten, ' els. gej'dch ' wildes Durcheinander- 
rennen,' preuss. jachern jackern 'aus Lust larmend umherja- 
gen' etc. Schr. 131. 

217. Els. schrapitze n 'Strapazzen': bair. schrap(pen) 'scha- 
ben, scharren' (schwab. schroppen 'starke, grobe Arbeit ver- 
richten') -f- (schr)itzen 'schlitzen. ' 

218. Preuss. schlabauks schlabauchs 'Nichtsnutz, Tauge- 
nichts, Tolpel, Herumtreiber, ungeschickter, ungeschlachter 
Mensch': schlab- (schlabber 'schlaffes, weiches, hautartiges, ' 
Fleisch,' lux. schlabberen 'schlottern, latschen, schlampen,' 
schlabberech 'fade, unreinlich; schlotternd, hin u. her flies- 
send, von Fliissigkeiten u. weichen Massen,' els. schlabberig 
' schwach, elend, vom Befinden ; kraf tlos, von der Suppe ' etc. ) 
-f- preuss. (schl)auks ^einer, der durch dick u. diinn geht' 
(schlaiiksen 'schlampen, fliissige Dinge mit ausgestreckter 
Zunge massig hineinschlingen, so dass die Speise umherschlagt 
u. die Tatigkeit des Essens horbar wird; durch eine Pfiitze 
kraf tig, gerauschvoll waten'). Schr. 182f. 

219. Preuss. schlabammel schlabommel 'was schlabauks': 
schla(bberen) 'schlottern, schlampen' -|- preuss. bammeln 
bommeln 'baumeln; ohne Arbeit leben, miissig gehen. ' 

220. Lothr. lux. schlabeizchen ' Schleckerei, Lackerbissen ' : 
mnd. sla(bben) 'schlappen, schliirfen,' ofries. 'gerauschvoll 
lecken od. schliirfen, schleckern' etc. -|- beizchen Demin. von 
bair. bauzen 'knollige Teigform, als Mehlspeise iiblich' (beu- 
zel 'Geschwulst, Beule,' botzen 'Kliimpchen weicher Materie; 
Keim, Knospe,' spatmhd. butzen 'turgere' etc.). Lothr. Wb. 
445. 

221. Wflam. slabijze 'sletse, lui vrouwspersoon, die langs de 



Kontaminationsbildungen und Mischformen 325 

straten vendelt,' ' nachlassiges Frauenzimmer ' : slab- (Nr. 218 
oder els. schlappe 'alter ausgetretener Schuh; unordentliches, 
leichtsinniges Frauenzimmer,' schlappen 'nachlassig einher- 
gehen') -f- wflam. (sl)ijs 'Schnitt, Scheibe; bediirftige, arm- 
selige Weibsperson. ' 

222. Steir. schlabutzig 'armlich, armselig, fadenscheinig, 
schabig, abgetragen': els. schldb (berig) 'schwach, elend, vom 
Befinden' -(- (schl)utzig (karnt. schlutzik 'schleimig, glatt,' 
bair. schlutzig 'klebrig, schmutzig, morastig' etc.). Schr. 187f. 

223. Els. schlabutzer 'Verweis, ' basl. schlaputzer 'Straf- 
predigt' (haben trotz Schr. 187 mit schweiz. schlabutz 
' Schnaps ; diinner, fliissiger Frass, iippige Fresserei ' nichts zu 
tun, vgl. Mod. Phil. IX, 187) : els. schle(tze n ) ' zuschmettern, 
heftig zuschlagen, von der Tiir' -f- butzer 'hef tiger Vorwurf, 
tiichtiger Wischer, (butze n 'reinigen, scheuern; schelten; 
stossen, schlagen,' abb. 'abstauben, reinigen; schelten, Vor- 
wurf e machen,' abbutzer 'Verweiss, Strafpredigt' etc.). 

224. Heirher gehort els. schnabutzer 'Verweis': schna(tz) 
'Narbe,' lothr. ' Schnittwunde ; grosser Riss im Kleid' (bair. 
schnatzeln 'klein schneiden, schnitzeln,' beschn. 'verkiirzen, 
verringern; bekritteln') -(- butzer. Oder schnabutzer: 
schn(auze n ) 'grob anfahren, schimpfen' -f- (schl)abutzer. 
Schr. 99f . Vgl. Nr. 245. 

225. Wflam. slameur ' beslommering, drokte, last, moeite en 
zorg,' 'tracas': slam- (slammeren slommeren 'confundere, in- 
tricare, impedire' Kil., nl. slommer 'Verwirrung, Verlegen- 
heit') + (sl)eur 'tractus, syrma' (sleuren 'trahere, verrere, 
humi protrahere' Kil. 

226. Els. schlawack 'dummer, fressgieriger Mensch; liider- 
licher Kerl, Faulpelz; verschlagener, unsauberer Mensch,' 
lothr. sclilawaken Menschen, die undeutlich, unverstandlich 
reden wie die Slovaken' (vielleicht in Anlehnung daran, aber 
gewiss nicht damit identisch) : els. schlab (bere n ) 'diinnfliissige 
Speisen gierig u. mit Gerausch geniessen; unverstandlich 
plappern' (Nbform slawdro, lux. schlabberen 'schlottern, lat- 
schen, schlampen' etc.) -f bair. (schl)ack 'trage Person' 
(schlack 'schlaff, nachlassig, trage,' schlacken schlackern 
'schlaff u. schwankend sich bewegen'). 

227. Steir. schlawanker 'Jacke, Joppe': mhd. slav(enie) 



326 Wood 

'grober Wollenstoff u. daraus verfertigter Mantel, wie ihn 
namentl. Pilger trugen' -j- (schl) anker (schwab. schlenker 
' Baurenrock, ' bair. schlanken 'hangen u. sich hin u. her be- 
wegen; miissig herum gehen,' schlank 'Lappen, Fetzen, han- 
gendes Ding, Stiick'). Oder schlab- Nr. 218 -(- (schl) anker. 
Schr. 197. 

228. Wflam. slavent 'slenter, flarde, lambeau; afgebroken 
stuk, morceau': slav(eken) 'kleed om vuil werk te doen; kiel, 
voorshoot, enz. die voor iets anders niet meer dienen' (nanl. 
slave 'Sklave') -\- (sl)ent (nl. slenter 'Lappen, Fetzen,' lothr. 
schlenze 'unregelmassiger Riss im Kleid, im Holz, im Papier,' 
els. schlenz dass., schlenze" 'reissen, schlitzen' etc.). Vgl. Nr. 
227. 

229. Friihnl. slavetse 'servula vilis et ignava,' wflam. sla- 
vetsa 'sloore, sloerie, onachtzaam, vrouwspersoon, ' 'femme 
negligente,' slavetsen 'slenderen, lanterf anten ' : mnl. slav(e) 
'Sklave, Sklavin' (in neueren Zeiten mit Anlehmmg an wflam. 
slafferen ' schleppf iissig gehen') + (sl)etse 'mulier ignava, 
ambubaia' Kil., wflam. 'abgenutzter Pantoffel; arme, lumpige 
Weibsperson, ' (sl)etsen ' schleppf iissig gehen' (els. schletz 
'schlechtes Frauenzimmer, ' bair. schlotz 'Schmutz, Klebrig- 
keit; trager, fauler Mensch,' schlotzen 'nachlassig, trage sein' 
etc.). 

230. Hageland. slavodder 'slodder': slav- wie oben -j- nl. 
(si) odder ' Schmutzfinke, Schlurmichel, ' 'homo sordidus, in- 
cultus, incompositus, negligens' Kil. (slodderen 'sich schwen- 
ken, baumeln, schlottern,' 'flaccere, flaccescere,' nhd. sclilot- 
tern etc.). Vgl. genii, slab- in Nr. 218. 

231. Meckl. slawuken 'schlecht einhergehen ' : slaw- (lux. 
schlabberen 'schlottern, latschen, schlampen' Nr. 218) + 
(sl)ucken (ns. slukkern 'schwanken,' nass. schlockern schluck- 
ern hin u. her f ahren ; beschwerlich gehn, sich wankend fort- 
bewegen, gehn iiberhaupt,' oberhess. schlockern 'schlottern'). 
Schr. 197. 

232. Nass. schmaguckes (*schmoguckes) ' heimtiickischer 
Mensch': lothr. lux. schmo(ck) 'schlau, geschmeidig' (steir. 
schmucken 'sieh schmiegen u. biegen, sich klein zu machen 
suchen, iibertr. : kriechen, heucheln,' els. schmucker 'Schmeich- 
ler,' schmuckler 'falscher Mensch' etc.) -}- nass. guckes (gu- 



Kontaminationsbildungen und Mischformen 327 

ckel) 'Person, welche zu kleine, unverhaltnismassige oder 
schielende Augen hat ; welche von unten herauf , diebisch sieht ' 
(lothr. guggele n 'verstohlen blicken, ' els. spitzguckel 'boshaft 
witziger, schlauer Knabe,' gokle n 'betriigen, beschwindeln, ' 
mhd. gucken 'neugierig schauen, gucken'). Schr. 80f. 

233. Els. schnatull 'bassliches Frauenzimmer': schna(lle) 
'Schnalle; feile Dime' -f- (scha)tull 'vag. fern.', lothr. 'ver- 
achtl. Ausdruck fiir altes Weib. 

234. Els. spdjdckere n 'spahen, lauernd umherlauf en ' (mit 
Anlehnung an spdhen) : ns. spa(kkern) 'stark laufen u. ren- 
nen' -j- els. jdckere n 'jagen, mit einem Fuhrwerk eilig fahren; 
im Haus herumrennen u. arbeiten.' 

235. Els. spalack spaldcke ' Holz-Klapper, womit in der Kar- 
woche Larm gemacht wird,' abspaldcke n 'entlaufen': spal(e n ) 
'Sprosse in der Wagenleiter; Speiche am Rad' (ofries. spalke 
' abgespaltenes Stuck, Scheit,' spalken 'platzen, bersten, spal- 
ten, springen,' els. wit spalte n 'grosse Schritte nehmen'; zur 
Bed. vgl. auch els. speiche" 'mit den Beinen ausschlagen, 
strampeln; eilig gehen' zu Speiche) -f- (sp)acken (tirol. spa- 
cken spacklen 'von den Rindern; von Bremsen verfolgt oder 
in grosses Hitze wild laufen,' nd. spackern 'pockern, pochen, 
trampeln, traffen, traben,' ns. spakkern 'stark laufen u. ren- 
nen, mutwillig herumspringen'). Schr. 79. 

236. Els. h erumspaleise n ' umherschlendern, ohne eigentli- 
chen Zweck herumspazieren ; lauernd herumschleichen ' : bair. 
umme spdl(lien) 'miissig schlendern' (els. h erum spuliere" 
lauernd herumstreichen') -f- *(sp)dusen (els. spuse n 'werfen; 
lauernd nach etwas blicken'). 

237. Els. spanife" 'genau horchen': spa(nne n ) 'spanuen; 
intr. gespannt sein, lauschen, aufpassen' -)- bair. nifeln. 
' schnuf eln, schnobern. ' 

238. Nhd. stibitzen 'fein u. listig Kleinigkeiten stehlen': 
els. stip(se n ) 'stehlen' (stippe n dass.) -(- meckl. (st)iezen 'sti- 
bitzen, stehlen. ' Schr. 79f . 

239. Els. stripitze" 'Kleinigkeiten stehlen; mit Schlauheit 
vor den Augen anderer wegnehmen': strip (se n ) 'stibetzen' -(- 
(str)itze n (strutze n ) 'stehlen' (mnd. stroden, ae. strudan 'rau- 
ben, pliindern'). Schr. 133. 



328 Wood 

240. Els. strapitze n 'stibitzen': stra(tze n ) 'stehlen, na- 
mentl. Obst' -f- (stri)pitze n . 

241. Flam, strabbant 'straf, sterk, stevig, fel, kloek, dap- 
per, geweldig', wflam. strabantig 'hardnekkig anhoudend': 
ofries. strabb(ig) 'stair, steif ; streng, scharf ; starrsinnig od. 
steif kopfig' (strabben 'sich starr, steif u. widerspenstig ge- 
berden') -f- *(str)ant (vgl. norw. dial, strinta 'sich anstren- 
gen,' stratta seg 'sich strecken,' bair. sich stranzen 'sich 
strecken, dehnen, aus Faulheit' etc.). 

242. Steir. strabanzen 'miissig umherstreifen, landstrei- 
chen, stromen': bair. strab(eln) 'Hande u. Fiisse regen, zap- 
peln' -f- schwab. (str)anzen 'miissig umherlaufen, grosstun' 
etc. (vgl. oben). Schr. 131f. 

243. Schwab, gestramunzlet 'gestreift': gestram{elt) (steir. 
stramel Bezeichnung fiir ein "gestramtes" oder "gestreim- 
eltes ' ' Rind, ' stramlo ' beliebter Name fiir scheckige Kiihe, ' els. 
stram ' Streif en, ' stramig ' gestreif t, namentl. vom langgestreck- 
ten Federgewolk am Himmel,' schwab. g e straumet g e straumet 
' gestreif t, getigert; gefleckt, gesprenkelt, scheckig,' mhd. 
stram 'strom; streifen' etc.) -f- *(gestr)unzlet 'gesprenkelt' 
(zu germ, strint- 'ausbreiten, streuen, spritzen' in schwed. 
dial, strinta ' hervorsprudeln, spritzen,' dan. dial, strente 
strint e 'spr0ite ud i fine straaler, str0 lidt hist og her,' mnd. 
strenten 'spritzen,' strunt 'Kot, Dreck,' lothr. strenz 'Giess-, 
Spritzkanne, ' strenzen 'besprengen, benetzen mit dem Giess- 
becher z. B. die Stube vor dem Kehren,' lux. strenzen dass., 
steir. stranzen 'unreinlich essen u. trinken'). 

244. Schwab, gestrlmunzelt ' gestreif t, bes. von Katzen': 
*gestrim(elt) ' gestreif t' (steir. gestreimelt gestreimt ' ge- 
streif t, von Stoffen,' streim 'Streifen, Striemen, farbiger 
Strich,' mhd. strlme strlmel 'Streifen,' strimeleht ' gestreif t' 
etc.) -f- *(gestr)unzelt. 

245. Els. straputzer 'Verweiss': mhd. strd(fe) 'Tadel, Ver- 
weis' -f- els. butzer 'hef tiger Vorwurf, tiichtiger Wischer.' 
Vgl. schlabutzer, schnabutzer Nr. 223, 224. 

246. Wflam. talouteren 'beben, zittern': nl. dial, tal(teren) 
(zaan. tolteren 'herumdrehen, wackeln,' ae. tealtrian 'wan- 
ken,' ofries. t alter en 'schlagen, hauen') -f- wflam. (t} outer en 
'beben, schaukeln' (mnl. touteren aus talteren). 

University of Chicago. FRANCIS A. WOOD. 



Friedrich Spe and the Theodicee of Leibniz 329 



FRIEDRICH SPE AND THE THODICE OF LEIBNIZ 

IV. SPE AND THOMAS AQUINAS; THE RELATION OF LEIBNIZ 

TO BOTH 

In order to determine how much Leibniz was indebted to 
Spe, it is necessary first to determine whether the Ouldenes 
Tugendbuch was based upon any earlier work of philosophy 
or theology, and whether Leibniz derived inspiration directly 
from such an earlier work. 

Literary histories of Germany do not, as a general rule, 
mention the Tugendbuch. Spe has earned a place in history 
of German literature through his Trutz Nachtigal, the poet- 
ical version of the Tugendbuch, but not through the Tugend- 
buch itself. The result is that the Tugendbuch has been 
looked upon by some as a work of originality. 

The biographers of Spe seem to take this view of the mat- 
ter. Balke * points out briefly that Spe 's book is like other 
"Erbaifcingsbiicher" of the period, like Loyola's for instance, 
but he does not discuss the sources which Spe may have uti- 
lized. Duhr, perhaps the most thorough of Spe's biographers, 
expresses himself as follows : 2 " Dieses Biichlein ist der Spie- 
gel seines eigenen Wandels und fur seine Geistesrichtung die 
wichtigste Quelle. ' ' Holscher, 3 who has summed up the con- 
tents of the Tugendbuch at greater length than have other 
commentators, claims for Spe's work complete originality of 
ideas and thought. "Ein fernerer, verwandter Vorzug be- 
steht in der Urspriinglichkeit und Neuheit der Gedanken. 
Auf die in keiner andern so haufig wie in der Erbauungs- 
litteratur vorkommenden Gemeinplatze hat der Verfasser 
durchauss verzichtet. Jeder Gedanke ist neu und originell 
in der Empfindung oder doch im Ausdruck." 

We should be surprised, indeed, if we found that Leibniz's 
intense admiration for Spe was based solely upon the some- 

1 In his edition of Trutz Nachtigal, p. xxxiii. 
* Friedrich Spe, p. 128. 

8 Holscher, Friederich Spe von Langenfeld, Programm der Realschule 
zu Diisseldorf, 1871, p. 8. 



330 Lieder 

what naively expressed sentiments and religious thoughts of 
the Giildenes Tugendbuch. It is hardly to be expected that 
Leibniz would be so profuse in his praise for the Tugendbuch 
if the book did not contain deeper thoughts. In the Tugend- 
buch are contained many of the fundamental ideas which 
later made up Leibniz's philosophical system as expounded 
primarily in the Theodicee. 

There can be no doubt, I think, that Spe's Tugendbuch is 
based mainly upon the philosopher upon whom rests the 
structure of Catholic dogma, the philosopher whose work is 
looked upon as the main source of Catholic theelogy St. 
Thomas Aquinas. 

The system of Thomas Aquinas is contained in his great 
work, the Summa Theologica. Here we find the fundamental 
thoughts advanced later by Spe in the Giildenes Tugendbuch. 
Inasmuch as Spe 's ideas are summed up skillfully in his intro- 
duction, inasmuch as Leibniz translated this introduction into 
French and paraphrased its contents again and again in his 
letters to friends, a comparison of the ideas expressed in the 
Introduction of the Tugendbuch with the ideas formulated 
by Thomas Aquinas will show us at a glance that Spe's book 
is largely a popularization of Thomas's system of philosophy. 
We are reminded of Thomas Aquinas by several footnotes in 
Spe's introduction. Spe indicates expressly that these foot- 
notes are taken from Thomas Aquinas. 

The Tugendbuch, as Spe explains in his introduction, deals 
with the divine virtues (gottliche Tugenden). They are 
called divine virtues 'darumb weil sie gestracks ohne mittel 
auff Gott gerichtet seind: dan durch den Glauben glaube ich 
in Gott; durch die Hoffnung hoffe ich auff Gott; durch die 
Liebe lieb ich Gott." In defining "virtus theologica seu di- 
vina" Thomas Aquinas expresses the same idea. "Virtus 
divina huiusmodi principia (per quae homo ordinator * ad 
beatitudinem supernaturalem) virtutes dicuntur theologicae, 
turn quia habent Deum pro objecto, inquamtum per eas recte 
ordinamur in Deum, turn quia sola divina revelatione in sacra 
scriptura huiusmodi virtutes traduntur. ' ' 2 

1 Spe uses the phrase "die uns im Tauff eingegossen werden." 
1 Summa Theologica I. II. 62. Ic. An excellent reference book is L. 
Schiitz, Thomas Lexikon, Paderborn, 1881. 



Friedrich Spe and the Theodicee of Leibniz 331 

Spe draws the all-important distinction that faith depends 
primarily upon the reason whereas hope and love really de- 
pend upon the will. "Erstlich stehet der Glaub fiirnemblich 
in dem verstandt: die Hoffnung aber unnd Liebe stehen ei- 
gentlich im willen." Thomas Aquinas makes practically the 
same distinction. ' ' Fides, quae est propium principium huius 
actus, est in intellectu sicut in subiecto." (II. II. 4. 2c). As 
soon as faith is combined with hope or with love, in other 
words as soon as an act of faith has been accomplished, we 
have an act of will power as well as of reason. "Actus fidei 
procedit et ex intellectu et ex voluntate." (II. II. 5. 4c). x 
Spe, as we shall see, looks upon hope and love as a further 
development of faith. 

Spe states clearly that hope presupposes faith, and that love 
presupposes both faith and hope. Thomas Aquinas is of ex- 
actly the same opinion. He devotes a whole article to the 
question whether faith precedes hope (II. II. 17.7) and an- 
other article to the question whether hope precedes love (ib. 
17.8). In both cases his decision is the same as that of Spe. 
"Respondeo dicendum quod fides absolute praecedit spe" 
(ib. 17.17.) "Et ideo in via generationis spes est prior cari- 
tate" (ib. 17.8. ) 2 

The difference between the two kinds of love, namely the 
love of desire and the love of friendship a distinction copied 
by Leibniz from Spe as is shown in Leibniz's letter to the 
Electress Sophie was also carefully pointed out by Thomas 
Aquinas. Spe described the two kinds of love as follows: 
"Es seind zweyerley Liebe: die eine wird genennet* [the 
asterisk refers to a footnote given by Spe thus: 'Amor con- 
cupiscentiae, amor benevolentiae seu amicitiae, V. D. Thorn. 
2, 2, q. 23. art 1. in corp.'] eine lieb der begierlichkeit, die 
andere wird genent eine Liebe der Gutwilligkeit oder der 
f reiindschafft. ' ' 

1 See also I. II. 66. 6a. "Cum enim fides sit in intellectu, spes autem 
et caritas in vi appetiva." 

2 See also C. M. Schneider, Die Katholische Wahrheit oder Summa 
Theologica de Thomas von Aquin deutsch wiedergegeben, Regensburg, 
1886-1892. In twelve volumes. Volume XII has an excellent register. 
See vol. XII, p. 86; vol. VII, pp. 115, 116, 117. 



332 Lieder 

The love of desire Spe describes thus: "Die Lieb der be- 
gierlichkeit wird genent wan ich mir oder fiir mich etwas be- 
gere, wiinsche, und haben will oder so ichs habe, mit einer 
liebreichen neygung und affect umbfange, und mich darin 
ergetze als etwas da mir niitzlich oder bequemlich, annehmlich, 
gut, schon, wollustbarlich, lieblich, anmiithig und behaglich 
ist. ' ' The love of friendship Spe describes thus : ' ' Die Liebe 
der Gutwilligkeit aber oder die Liebe der Freundschafft wird 
genennet damit man denjenigen liebet, deme man etwas der- 
gleichen begeret, dass ist, deme man etwas gutes giinnet oder 
wiinschet. " As examples of the love of desire Spe mentions 
a cool drink, a good horse, a fine house things which we like 
to possess for their own sake. As examples of the love of 
friendship Spe names a sweetheart, a gracious monarch 
persons for whom one wishes everything good. A sweetheart 
in fact, is loved with both kinds of love. 

Thomas Aquinas must have been Spe's model. Besides 
the footnote which Spe takes directly from Thomas Aquinas, 
Spe has followed Thomas in many other points. A few cita- 
tions from Thomas will show that Spe learned from Thomas 
Aquinas about the two kinds of love. Thus : ' ' Amor non 
dividitur per amicitiam et concupiscentiam, sed per amorem 
amicitiae et concupiseentiae ; nam ille proprie dicitur amicus, 
cui aliquod bonum volumus, illud autem dicitur concupis- 
cere, quod volumus nobis" (I, II, 26, 4). Again: "Motus 
amoris in duo tendit, scilicet in bonum, quod quis vult alicui, 
vel sibi, vel alii, et in illud, cui vult bonum; ad illud ergo 
bonum, quod quis vult alteri, habetur amor concupiseentiae, 
ad illud autem, cui aliquis vult bonum, habetur amor amici- 
tiae." (II. II. 26. 4c). Another quotation in which Thomas 
Aquinas uses examples which Spe also quotes : ' ' Non quilibet 
amor habet rationem amicitae, sed amor, qui est cum bene- 
volentia, quando scilicet sic amamus aliquem, ut ei bonum 
velimus, sed ipsum earum bonum nobis velimus, sicut dicimur 
amare vinum aut equum aut aliquod huiusmodi, non est amor 
amicitae, sed cuiusdam, concupiseentiae, ridiculum enim est 
dicere, quod aliquis habeat amicitiam ad vinum vel ad 
equum." (II. II. 23, Ic). 

Spe emphasizes the importance of the difference between 



Friedrich Spe and the Theodicee of Leibniz 333 

the two kinds of love. The love of desire may be identified 
with hope (Leibniz uses the term esperance 1 }, and the love 
of friendship may be called simply love (Leibniz uses charite). 
It is all-important that God be loved not only with the love 
of desire (hope) but also with the love of friendship. Thomas 
Aquinas uses the term caritas for this love toward God. 2 That 
Thomas Aquinas regards hope as merely an imperfect form of 
love, and that hope is identical with the love of desire (as 
distinguished from perfect love, the love of friendship) may 
be seen from the following: "Respondeo dicendum quod du- 
plex est ordo. Unus quidem secundum viam generationis et 
materiae, secundum quern imperfectum prius est perfecto. 
Alius autem ordo est perfectionis et formae : secundum quern 
perfectum naturaliter prius est imperfecto. Secundum igitur 
primum ordinem spes est prior caritate. Quod sic patet. 
Quia spes, et omnis appetivus motus, ex amore derivatur! ut 
supra habitum est, cum de passionibus ageretur. Amor autem 
quidam est perfectus, quidam imperfectus. Perfectus quidem 
amor est quo aliquis secundum se amatur, ut puta cui aliquis 
vult bonum : sicut homo amat amicum. Imperfectus amor est 
quod quis amat aliquid non secundum ipsum, sed ut illud 
bonum sibi ipsi proveniat: sicut homo amat rem quam con- 
cupiscit. Primus autem amor Dei pertinet ad caritatem, quae 
inhaeret Deo secundum seipsum: sed spes pertinet ad secun- 
dum amorem, quia ille qui sperat aliquid sibi obtinere inten- 
dit." (II. II. 17. 86). 

Spe insists, finally, that love alone can help to atone for 
sin. Repentance and contrition can bring about atonement, 
but contrition can come only from love (love of friendship). 
If the repentance does not proceed from this love of friend- 
ship then such repentance is not complete and can not bring 
about atonement for sins. In Spe's own words: "Wan dan 
nun sie( die Reue) herfleust nicht aus einem affect der Liebe 
oder dritten Gottlichen Tugend, sonderen auss einer andern 
obgezehlten wiewol ubernatiirlicher ursachen, so wird ein 
solche rew und leid genent eine unvollkommene Rew, auff 

1 Cf. Leibniz's letter to the Electress Sophie. 
J "Amoris proprium objectum est bonum" (I. II. 27. Ic). 
"Objectum caritatis est bonum divinum." (I. I. 59. 4). 



334 Lieder 

Latein Attritio : und solche Rew tilget die todtliche Siinde 
mit nichten, auss es seye dan sach, dass das Sacrament des 
Tauffs oder der Beicht hinzukomme ; Dann das Sacrament 
tilget sie f reylich auss wie bewusst ist. ' ' 

When repentance is complete, that is, when the repentance 
proceeds from the love of friendship, then one's sins will be 
forgiven. To quote from Spe directly: "Wann aber die Rew 
und Leid herfleust aus einem affect der Liebe: [Spe here 
gives the footnote "ex motivo Charitate"] das ist, wann ich 
betriibt bin iiber meine Stind, und sie verfluche derenthal- 
ben, weil ich auss antrieb der gnaden Gottes von grund mei- 
nes hertzens Gott dem Herrn alles gutes wiinsche; und.fol- 
gends, weil die Siind ihme stracks zuwider ist, und ihn be- 
leidiget, ich sie als ein iibel meines so geliebten Gottes mit 
nichten wil : so wird eine solche Rew und Leyd genennet eine 
vollkommene Rew, auff Latein Contritio, das ist, zerknirsch- 
ung des hertzens, und tilget auss alle Siind. Dan sie war- 
hafftig ein werk ist der liebe, oder dritten Gottlichen Tugend. 
Also, dass es noch war bleibet, was gesagt ist, dass sonst keine 
eintzige andere Tugend den Sunder gerecht mache, als allein 
die liebe der gutwilligkeit oder der freundschafft. Unnd zwar 
im alten Testament haben die Menschen kein ander mittel zur 
gerechtfertigung gehabt, als eben die Rew und Leid welch 
iiber die begangene Siinde auss Gottes Liebe herriihrte. m 

Thomas Aquinas likewise laid particular stress on the neces- 
sity of complete repentance (contrition). Attrition cannot, 
without an actual deed of love, pass into contrition. A single 
paragraph from Thomas Aquinas will show how closely his 
theory anticipates that of his successor, Spe. "Respondeo 
dicendum, quod super hoc est duplex opinio. Quidam enim 
dicunt, quod attritio fit contritio, sicut fides informis fit for- 
mata. Sed hoc (ut videtur) esse non potest: quia quamuis 
habitus fidei informis, fiat formatus; numquam tamen actus 
fidei informis, fit actus fidei formatae, quia actus ille informis 
transit at non manet veniente charitate : attritio autem et con- 
tritio non dicunt habitum, sed actum tantum. Habitus autem 
virtutem infusarum, qui voluntatem respiciunt, non possunt 

1 The paragraphs here quoted are the closing paragraphs of the intro- 
duction to the Ouldenes Tugendbuch. 



Friedrich Spe and the Theodicee of Leibniz 335 

esse informes, cum charitatem consequantur ; ut in 3. lib. 
dictum est. Uncle antequam gratia infundatur, non est habitus 
a quo actus contritionis postea elicitur: et sic nullo modo 
attritio potest fieri contritio, et hoc alia opinio dicit." (Summa 
Theologica, III (Supplementum) , question 1, art. 3.) 1 

So much for the main points of the Guldenes Tugendbuch: 
they clearly remind one of the Summa Theologica. In the 
matter of details, however, we may also find passages in the 
Tugendbuch for which parallel passages may be found in the 
works of Thomas Aquinas. One instance may be of particular 
interest. In Part III, Chapter 25, Spe begins by explaining 
that his argument in this chapter will be more abstract than 
heretofore, and that his pupil must pay particular attention 
in order to understand what is being said : ' ' Mein Kind, da du 
vernommen hast, das ich noch eine andere newe unnd schone 
weiss hette Gott unauffhorlich zu loben: wiltu mir keinen 
frieden lassen, biss ich dir dieselbe auch zu papeir bringe. 
Und ob wol ich gesagt, das dise weiss etwas hoher und sub- 
tiler were zu verstehen, so lasset du dennoch nicht ab, son- 
dern wilt mit gewalt, ich solle sie dich lehren, du wollest wol 
schawen, dass du sie endlich begreiffest. " 

Having thus explained to his reader that the arguments 
are to be abstruse, Spe proceeds to outline the sensations pro- 
duced upon the mind by various objects. Two kinds of im- 
pressions are produced, one upon the "Phantasey" which has 
its seat in the brain, the other on the "Verstand" which is 
in the "Seele des menschen. " The former impression or sen- 
sation is called in Latin Phantasma, the latter Species intel- 
ligibiles. The difference is as follows: "Dan erstlich sagen 
sie [die Gelehrten], dass die gemahl oder Bilder dess ver- 
stands vil reiner und subtiler seind, als die bilder der Phan- 
tasey. Und zum andern dass die bilder der Phantasey mit 
dem hirn vergehen, die bilder aber der Seelen oder dass ver- 
stands auch nach dem tod verbleiben, wie Seel unnd ver- 
stand unsterblich ist. Gleich wie ein Bild so du in Wachs ab- 
truckest zergehet wann das Wachs zerschmeltzet, das aber so 
du in Kupffer oder marmer geschnitten hast bleibt allezeit, 
weil das Kupfer und Marmer, darin es gegraben ist, allzeit 

'See also Schneider, vol. X, p. 315; vol. XII, p. 140. 



336 Lieder 

verbleiben. Verstehestu nun dises auch, so gehen wir noch 
welter. ' ' 

Undoubtedly Spe got the terms Phantasma and Species in- 
telligibiles from Thomas Aquinas. For instance : ' ' Ad secun- 
dum dicendum quod etiam ipsum phantasma est similitude rei 
particularis ! unde non indiget imaginatio aliqua alia simili- 
tudine particularis, sicut indiget intellectus. " (I. 84. 7 ad 2). 
"Sed phantasmata, cum sint similitudines individuorum, et 
existant in organis corporeis, non habent eundum modum ex- 
istendi quern habet intellectus humanus, ut ex dictus patet: 
et ideo non possunt sua virtute imprimere in intellectum pos- 
sibilem. Sed virtute intellectus agentis resultat quaedam 
similitudo in intellectu possibili ex conversione intellectus 
agentis supra phantasmata, quae quidem est represaentativa 
eorum quorum sunt phantasmata, solum quantum ad naturam 
speciei. Et per hunc modum dicitur abstrahi species intelli- 
gibilis a phantasmatibus. " (I. 85. 1 ad 3). "Sed contra, 
species intelligibilis se habet ad intellectum, sicut species sen- 
sibilis ad sensum. Sed species sensibilis non est illud quod 
sentitur, sed magis id quo sensus sentit. Ergo species intel- 
ligibilis non est quod intelligitur actu, sed id quo intelligit 
intellectus." (I. 85. 2a). 

It is natural that Spe should have followed Thomas Aquinas 
as his model. When Spe wrote his Tugendbuch, Thomas 
Aquinas had for three centuries and a half been looked upon 
as the source of Catholic Theology. To the present day, in 
fact, he is regarded as the fountain-head of Catholic theology. 
The question might arise, however, whether Spe, in writing 
his Guldenes Tugendbuch, was directly influenced by the 
Summa Theologica, a work running through thousands of 
pages and requiring years of study, or whether he followed a 
more immediate source. Either alternative is possible. If we 
choose the latter, the Compendium Theologiae of Thomas 
Aquinas, a kind of resume of the Summa Theologica, may 
have been Spe's model. 

The Compendium Theologiae is one of the most useful of 
Thomas Aquinas 's works. In the words of one of his biograph- 



Friedricli Spe and the Theodicee of Leibniz 337 

ers : * "It is a model of simplicity, lucidity and reasoning. 
Most probably it was written specially for the use of mission- 
aries who went into distant parts amidst pagans and barbar- 
ians It was originally proposed to be in three 

grand divisions: the first treating of matters which could be 
reduced to the general heading of Faith, the second to that of 
Hope, and the third to that of Charity. The Angelical, how- 
ever, had time only to complete the first portion ; at his death 
he had not got beyond the beginning of the eleventh chapter 
of the second part, in which he designed to prove the possi- 
bility of obtaining the kingdom of heaven On the 

whole, especially in the first part of the Compendium, Script- 
ure is but scantily made use of, whilst the Fathers are seldom 
referred to. Simplicity, order, brevity, and clearness of rea- 
soning, seem principally to have been studied here, whilst the 
Angelical keeps within the rigid bounds of a genuine Brevi- 
loquim. ' ' 

In the Compendium, then, Thomas Aquinas popularizes his 
Summa Theologica. He presents clearly the attributes of 
God, the nature of Good and Evil, the harmony of the uni- 
verse, the power of divine love. He avoids all theological ar- 
guments, and addresses himself directly to the everyday 
reader. He divides his work into three parts dealing respect- 
ively with Faith, Hope, and Love. Is it not probable that in 
the Compendium Spe found a model for his Guldenes Tu- 
gendbuchf 

One paragraph from the Compendium Theologiae will suf- 
fice to show how clearly Spe's method follows that of Thomas. 
In the introduction to the Guldenes Tugendbuch Spe ex- 
plained how faith must necessarily precede hope, and how 
faith and hope must necessarily precede love. Without faith 
no hope is possible, without faith and hope, no love is possible. 
The first page of the first chapter of the Compendium Theolo- 
gia brings out the same point. "Ut igitur tibi, fili carissime 
Reginalde, compendiosam doctrinam de Christiana religione 
tradam, quam semper prae oculis possis habere; circa haec 
tria in praesenti opera tota nostra versatur intentio. Primum 

1 R. B. Vaughan, The Life and Labours of S. Thomas of Aquin, Lon- 
don, 1872, vol. II, p. 760. 



338 Lieder 

de Fide, secundo de Spe, tertio vero de Caritate agenms. Hoc 
enim et apostolicus ordo habet, et ratio recta requirit. Non 
enim amor rectus esse potest, nisi debitus finis spei statuatur; 
nee hoc esse potest, si veritatis agnitio desit. Primo igitur 
necessaria est fides, per quam veritatem cognoscas; secundo 
spes, per quam in debito fine tua intentio collocetur; tertio 
necessaria est caritas, per quam tuus affectus totaliter ordin- 
etur." 1 

Here, then, we have the guiding principle of the Compen- 
dium. This principle is consistently followed by Spe in his 
introduction to the Tugendbuch. The similarity between the 
Giildenes Tugendbuch on the one hand and the Compendium 
Theologiae and the Summa Theologica on the other, indicates 
how frequently Friedrich Spe followed his master, Thomas 
Aquinas. 

Did Leibniz draw directly from Thomas Aquinas? That 
the great system worked out by Thomas Aquinas contains the 
germs of many of the dominating principles in Leibniz's 
philosophy may readily be admitted. In attempting to prove, 
therefore, that Leibniz was indebted to Spe, we must first set- 
tle the question whether Leibniz derived directly from Thomas 
Aquinas those ideas which Spe emphasized in the Tugendbuch. 
Without depending solely on the many letters and essays in 
which Leibniz refers specifically to the Tugendbuch as a 
source of inspiration, we can convince ourselves that Thomas 
Aquinas was no more a definite source for Leibniz than were 
any of the countless other philosophers from antiquity down 
to his day. 

That Leibniz was acquainted with the philosophy of the 
Scholastics, and, therefore, of Thomas Aquinas, cannot be 
doubted. Leibniz's earliest work, De Principio Individui, 
written at the age of seventeen, dealt with an important and 
difficult problem of scholasticism. From this time on, however, 
Leibniz seems to have lost interest in the scholastics. In his 
old age he wrote, in a letter to Remond von Montmort, of a 
struggle he underwent as a youth of fifteen regarding the ad- 
visability of adhering to the doctrine of scholasticism. In 
his De Arte Combinatorum he directly opposed the Scholastics 

1 See Vaughan, vol. II, p. 759. 



Friedrich Spe and the Theodicee of Leibniz 339 

in several instances ; in his introduction to the works of Nizo- 
lius he boldly advocated the use of the vernacular in philosoph- 
ical writings in direct contrast to the vocabulary and term- 
inology of the Latin works of the Scholastics. In the Notata 
Quaedam de Imperio Romano-Germanico,he charged them with 
misinterpreting the main idea of Christ's victory over the 
temptations of Satan. In a letter to the Magdeburg scholar 
Guericke in the summer of 1671, he says: "Es ist fiir alien 
Dingen acht zu haben, dass man nicht nach Art der Scholasti- 
corum etwa sich solcher worth bediene, so wohl gesagt aber 
nicht ausgelegt oder verstanden werden konnen. " x In the 
Nouveaux Essais of 1703 one of his most important produc- 
tions he states that he knew something of the systems of 
the Scholastics, but he cared nothing for the details, in fact 
he was actually confused by them. 2 

The literature 'on the subject of Leibniz and Thomas 
Aquinas can easily be reviewed. Koppehl 3 cites many parallel 
passages, but his case is weak. Nostitz-Rieneck 4 ironically 
ridicules the "New Scholastics" who think that Leibniz got 
his "hellste Erleuchtungen" out of the middle ages. Willa- 
reth 5 agrees with Nostitz-Rieneck that Leibniz did not get 
his best thoughts from the middle ages. By far the most 
scholarly and painstaking work on the subject is by Rintelen. 6 
His citations all go to prove that Leibniz got little from 
Thomas Aquinas or the other Scholastics. 

Leibniz got little from Thomas Aquinas; his system shows, 
nevertheless, many of the principles of Thomas Aquinas. Here, 
then, the Guldenes Tugendbuch of Spe plays its part. Spe 
followed his master Thomas Aquinas; Leibniz during a per- 
iod of almost fifty years was deeply interested in the Tugend- 

1 Gerhardt, I, p. 98. 

3 Nouveaux Essais sur I'Entendement Humain, IV, 8, 5; Erdmann, 
p. 371. 

8 Hermann Koppehl, Die Verwandschaft Leibnizens mit Thomas v. 
Aquino in der Lehre vom Bosen, Jena, 1892. 

4 Leibniz und die Scholastik (Phil. Jahrbuch, 1894, p. 55). 

5 Willareth, Die Lehre vom Uebel bei Leibniz, seiner Schule in 
Deutschland, und bei Kant, Strassburg, 1898. 

8 Fritz Rintelen, Leibnizens Beziehung zur Scholastik, Berlin, 1903. 



340 Lieder 

buck. It is fair to suppose that the Giildenes Tugendbuch 
was, to a large extent, a stepping stone between the Summa 
Theologica and the Theodicee. 

V. THE TRANSITION FROM SPE TO LEIBNITZ 

How did Leibniz happen to become interested in the works 
of Friedrich Spe, so intensely interested, in fact, that he con- 
tinued to study and recommend these works during the rest 
of his life? A brief survey of the early years of Leibniz's 
activity as a philosopher will make clear this interest. 

We must remember, first of all, that the years in which 
Leibniz lived and worked, the early years at all events, were 
separated by only a generation from the years in which Spe 
worked. The Giildenes Tugendbuch, editions of which ap- 
peared in 1649, 1656, 1666, 1688, 1 and Trutz Nachtigal, edi- 
tions of which appeared in 1649, 1654, 1656, 1660, 1664, 1683, 
1709, were still known to German readers, and may have been 
known to Leibniz even before they were specially recom- 
mended to him by the Archbishop of Mainz. 

The Archbishop of Mainz, Johann Phillip von Schonborn, 
and his minister of state, Johann Christian von Boineburg, 
had much to do with shaping Leibniz's future. In 1666, 
when in his twenty-first year, Leibniz met at Niirnberg the 
man through whom his career was to be ultimately decided 
the Baron von Boineburg. Leibniz had just declined a pro- 
fessorship at the little university of Altdorf , and was in doubt 
regarding his next step. Boineburg, although still in his 
prime, had already acquired fame as one of the ablest diplom- 
ats of the age. Born in Erfurt in 1622, he had studied law 
under Conring at Helmstadt, had lived at the court of Queen 
Christina of Sweden where he came in close contact with the 
warrior-chancellor Oxenstierna, had returned to Germany in 
1650, and had in 1652, at the age of thirty, been called into 
the service of the Archbishop of Mainz. 

The Archbishop of Mainz was the most important dignitary 
in the Empire after the Emperor himself the first of the 
electoral princes and the highest prelate in Germany. Johann 

1 A Latin translation Exercitia aurea trium virtutum Theologicarum 
and a Bohemian translation (1622) are noted by Balke, p. xxxiii. 



Friedrich Spe and the Theodicee of Leibniz 341 

Philipp von Schonborn was one of the most eminent men of 
the time. At the age of forty-two he had been called from 
the bishopric of Wiirzburg to the archbishopric of Mainz. 
This was in 1647 when the Thirty Years' War was drawing 
to a close. He was a worthy priest to succeed to the import- 
ant electorate at this time. How important the archbishops 
of Mainz had been, may be learned from the words of one of 
Leibniz 's biographers : 1 " Hatto and Willigis governed the 
Empire; Gerhard boasted of having the emperors under his 
thumb ; Diether, long before the reformers, curtailed the pre- 
tensions of the Papal Chair; Berthold was the first advocate 
of general peace and of the imperial courts of justice; Jo- 
hann Philipp the maintainer of the Empire and of the peace 
of Europe." 

The archbishop was to play an important part in the years 
immediately following the Peace of Westphalia; Johann 
Philipp was a remarkable man for the part. His prime min- 
ister Boineburg was a Protestant when called to Mainz, but 
became a Catholic during the twelve years of his premiership. 
During those twelve years, both the archbishop and his min- 
ister had to act as the mediators between France and the 
house of Hapsburg. In those twelve years many important 
events took place the death of the Emperor Ferdinand III 
(1657), the election of his son Leopold I (1658), the formation 
of the Rhine League (1658), the Peace of the Pyrenees (1659), 
the death of the French statesman Mazarin and the beginning 
of the independent reign of Louis XIV (1961) , the war against 
the Turks in Hungary (1663). 

Boineburg was an important figure in every event. He 
played a part in the imperial election, he was the archbishop 's 
representative at the Peace of the Pyrenees where he became 
a friend of Mazarin, he secured for the Emperor the support 
of the Empire in the war against the Turks, he was one of 
the founders of the political system which had for its object 
the maintenance of the Peace of Westphalia, he was the in- 
termediary between France and the Empire and drew upon 
himself the hostility of both. In 1664 he was dismissed by 
the Archbishop who, through a misunderstanding, suspected 

1 Merz, p. 27. 



342 Lieder 

him of treachery. The quarrel was soon made up, but Boine- 
burg refused all positions, though his daughter married the 
Archbishop's nephew. From 1664-1668, Boineburg lived in 
Frankfurt. In 1668 he returned to Mainz where he lived in 
high esteem as a private individual. 

In the fall of 1666 Boineburg met Leibniz in Niirnberg. 
Boineburg was astounded at Leibniz's keen mind; Leibniz 
was awed by Boineburg 's great career. A friendship was 
formed, Leibniz followed his friend to Frankfort, completed 
his article on the teaching of civil law, dedicated this writing 
to the Archbishop of Mainz to whom he had been recommended 
by Boineburg, and in 1667, at the age of twenty-one, arrived 
at the court of Mainz. Here he stayed from 1667 until the 
spring of 1672, and during that period he published many 
philosophical and political articles. In 1672 he was sent to 
Paris on a political mission; at the end of the same year 
Boineburg died, and at the beginning of the next year the 
Archbishop of Mainz. 

The importance of the ' ' Mainzer Periode " of Leibniz 's 
life can hardly be overestimated. As a young man of twenty- 
one he arrived with little means and no plans for the future. 
Five years later he was sent to Paris to the great Louis XIV 
as the representative of the Archbishop of Mainz and as a 
friend of the famous diplomat Boineburg. His future was 
assured; henceforth his career was to be that of the inde- 
pendent scholar, his patrons were to be the foremost princes of 
Europe. Instead of living in obscurity as a professor at Alt- 
dorf, he was to become one of the most widely known schol- 
ars of his day and of all time. His meeting with Boineburg 
marked the turning point of his career; the friendship with 
the archbishop started him on the road to fame. 

But how did Leibniz's stay in Mainz bring him into touch 
with the writings of Spe, and why should the Giildenes Tu- 
gendbuch have exerted upon him such an unusual influence? 
As stated above, Leibniz during his years in Mainz was sep- 
arated from Spe by only a generation. This gap was bridged 
by the Archbishop of Mainz who had known Spe personally. 

While Johann Philipp von Schonborn was a young canon at 
"Wurzburg he met Father Spe, who was only eleven years his 



Friedrich Spe and the Theodicee of Leibniz 343 

senior. Schb'nborn had asked Spe why the latter 's hair was 
gray at so young an age, and received the answer that the ex- 
perience of leading two hundred condemned witches to the 
stake had turned the hair of their father-confessor prema- 
turely gray. l Schonborn later became bishop of Wiirzburg 
and finally archbishop of Mainz. He knew that Spe was the 
author of the anonymously printed protest against the witch 
persecutions, the Cautio Criminalis a work which appealed 
so strongly to him that when he became archbishop he forbade, 
in the territory under his jurisdiction, the persecution of sus- 
pected witches. He was one of the first rulers to do so; his 
example was soon followed by the Duke of Brunswick and 
many other princes. 2 Through Schonborn the witch perse- 
cutions were checked, and Spe's book, according to Leibniz's 
opinion, was the original cause. 

We can imagine how intense was the archbishop's love 
for Spe, and how highly he valued Spe's works. From the 
very beginning he seems to have impressed upon Leibniz the 
importance of the Cautio Criminalis, of the Giildenes Tu- 
gendbuch, and of Trutz Nachtigal. Leibniz expresses his 
gratitude to the archbishop in practically every letter in 
which he mentions Spe. How great an impression the story of 
Spe coming as it did from the lips of one who had known 
Spe personally and was now the foremost prelate of the Em- 
pire and one of the foremost princes of Europe made upon 
the youthful Leibniz, can only be surmised. From the arch- 
bishop's own hand he received a copy of the Giildenes Tugend- 
buch, 3 and from this Tugendbuch he derived an inspiration 
which lasted until his death almost fifty years later. 

One other point should not be lost sight of. Johann Philipp 
was one of the most liberal-minded of princes, as is shown 
by the appointment of Boineburg, at that time a Protestant. 
Both the archbishop and his minister of state were leaders in 
the movement for reuniting Catholicism and Protestantism. 
Leibniz entered the plan with all his soul, and wrote numer- 

1 The story is told by Leibniz in his letters to Morrell and to Placcius. 
* Leibniz brings out this point in the Theodicee, 97. 
*Cf. the letters to Mile, de Scudery (1698) and to Baron Imhof 
(1708). 



344 Lieder 

ous theological articles to justify his stand. For many 
years he entertained hopes of being able to consummate his 
plan of reunion. In reading Spe 's book, he must have been im- 
pressed by the absence of all controversial arguments. Spe was 
essentially a humanitarian. The latter 's life had been devoted 
to bringing back to his Church the lost Protestant districts, one 
of which (at Peine) he won back by his own unaided efforts. 
In doing so he was attacked by an assassin, and almost lost 
his life. These things must have impressed Leibniz, and must 
have increased the interest aroused in him by the archbishop. 
Thus we have the transition from Spe to Leibniz through 
Johann Philipp von Schonborn, Archbishop of Mainz. 
Through Leibniz's letters and through his Theodicee the 
world knows that Spe wrote the Cautio Criminalis. Through 
these same letters and through the Theodicee we know how 
great an influence the Gilldenes Tugendbuch exerted upon 
Leibniz. 

VI. THE WRITINGS OF LEIBNIZ REFERRING TO SPE 

The extracts and letters are arranged chronologically. In 
each case I have indicated where the letter or extract may be 
found. One letter that by Leibniz to Morell has never been 
published; I obtained my copy through the kindness of the 
authorities at the Royal Library at Hanover. All the letters 
and extracts, with four exceptions, refer directly to Spe and 
mention him by name. These four the extract from the 
Codex Juris, the first letter to Mile, de Scudery, the letter to 
the Abbe Nicaise, and the extract from the Nouveaux Essais 
are included because their bearing on my subject is obvious. 

1. Grundriss eines Bedenckens von Aufrichtung einer Socie- 
tdt in Teutschland zu Aufnehmen der Kiinste und Wissen- 
schaften. ( 1669-70 ). x 

2. Elogium Patris Friderici Spee. S. J. (May 1677). 2 

1 Adolf Harnack, Geschichte der Koniglich Preussischen Akademie der 
Wissenschaften zu Berlin, Berlin, 1900, vol. II, p. 8ff. 

2 Die Werke von Leibniz gemas seinem handschriftlichen Nachlass in 
der Koniglichen Bibliothek zu Hannover von Onno Klopp, Hanover, 1864- 
84, vol. VIII. 



Friednch Spe and the Theodicee of Leibniz 345 

3. Letter to Landgraf Ernst von Hessen-Rheinfels (Autumn 
1680). 1 

4. The Codex Juris Gentium Diplomaticus. (1693). 2 

5. Letter to Herzog Rudolf August von Braunschweig- 
Liineburg, zu Wolfenbiittel (Mar. 9, 1693). 3 

6. Letter to Andr. Morell (Dec. 10, 1696). 4 

7. Letter to the Electress Sophie. (1697). 5 

8. Opinion on a book by the Archbishop of Cambray 
(1697). 6 

9. Letter to Vincentius Placcius (April 26, 1697 ). 7 

10. Letter to Mile, de Scudery (Nov. 17, 1967 ). 8 

11. Letter to Mile, de Scudery (Jan. 14-24, 1698). 9 

12. Letter to the Abbe Nicaise (1698). 10 

13. The Nouveaux Essais sur L'Entendement Humain 
(1703). " 

14. Letter to Baron d'Imhof (1708). 12 

15. Letter to DesBosses (Oct. 2, 1708 ). 13 

16. The Theodicee (1710). 14 

17. Letter to DesBosses (Feb. 8, 1711). 15 

18. Letter to DesBosses (July 8, 1711). 16 

1 Chr. von Rommel, Leibniz und Landgraf Ernst von Hessen-Rheinfels. 
Ein ungedruckter Briefwechsel iiber religiose und politische Gegenstande, 
Frankfurt, 1847, vol. I, p. 253. 

2 Die philosophischen Schriften von Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz, heraus- 
gegeben von C. J. Gerhardt, Berlin, 1875-90, vol. Ill, p. 387. 

* Klopp, vol. VIII. * Never published. A brief summary is given in 
Edward Bodemann, Der Briefwechsel des Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz in 
der Koniglichen offentlichen Bibliothek zu Hannover, Hanover, 1889, p. 
190. 

B Klopp, vol. VIII. 8 God. Guil. Leibnitii Opera Philosophica quae 
existant Latina Gallica Germanica Omnia, instruxit Joannes Eduardus 
Erdmann, Berlin, 1840, p. 789. 

7 Vincentii Placcii, Theatrum Anonymorum et Pseudonymorum, Ham- 
burg, 1708, p. 234. 

"J. F. Feller, Monumenta Varia Inedita, Jena, 1715. Trimestre 
Quartum, XXIV, p. 253. 

Feller XXV, p. 254. 10 Erdmann, p. 791. 

11 Erdmann, p. 246 (Nouveaux Essais, 10 5.) " Klopp, vol. III. 

"Gerhardt, vol. II, p. 362. "Gerhardt, vol. VI, pp. 156ff. 
15 Gothof redi Guillelmi Leibnitii Opera Omnia, nunc primum collecta 
studio Ludovici Dutens, Geneva, 1768, vol. II, 1, p. 292. 

19 Gerhardt, vol. II, p. 423. 



346 Lieder 

In reading over the letters and extracts in which Leibniz 
mentions Spe's name, one is impressed by four important 
facts first, the number of years over which the various com- 
munications and extracts extend; secondly, the consistency 
with which Leibniz expresses his gratitude to the Archbishop 
of Mainz who first called his attention to Spe; thirdly, the 
class of people to whom and for whom the letters and ex- 
tracts are written; finally, the one work the Giildenes Tu- 
gendbuch with which the letters and extracts which men- 
tion Spe's name are concerned. 

A brief comparison of the dates of composition of the let- 
ters and extracts will be of value. The Grundriss eines Be- 
denkens von Aufrichtung einer Societdt in Teutschland zu 
Aufnehmen der Kunste und Wissenschaften was written in 
1669 or 1670, when Leibniz was a young man of about twenty- 
three; the flattering Elogium Patris Friderici Spee in 1677, 
when he was thirty-one ; the letter to Landgraf Ernst of Hes- 
sen-Rheinfels in 1680, when thirty- four; the Codex- Juris and 
the letter to Herzog Rudolph August in 1693, when forty- 
seven; the letter to Morell in 1696, when forty-eight; the 
review of the book by the Archbishop of Cambray and the 
letters to the Electress Sophie, to Placcius, and to Mile, de 
Scudery in 1697, when fifty-one ; the second letter to Mile, de 
Scudery and the letter to Abbe Nicaise in 1698, when fifty- 
two ; the Nouveaux Essais in 1703 when fifty-seven ; the letter 
to Baron Imhof and the first letter to DesBosses in 1708, when 
sixty-two; the Theodicee in 1710 when sixty-four; and the 
two other letters to Des Bosses in 1711, when sixty-five. 

Leibniz therefore knew Spe's works from about 1667 (the 
date of his arrival in Mainz), when he was twenty -one, until 
his death in 1716, when he was seventy. Whether the Gul- 
denes Tugendbuch and Trutz Nachtigal were known casually 
to Leibniz before he met the Archbishop is difficult to deter- 
mine. Roughly speaking, however, one might say that Leib- 
niz was intimately acquainted with the works of Spe for 
about fifty years, and that during those fifty years he ex- 
pressed his admiration and indebtedness in a series of letters 
and quotations which leave no doubt regarding his purpose to 
call attention to Spe. 



Friedrich Spe and the Theodicee of Leibniz 347 

Remembering that the Archbishop of Mainz was the first 
of Leibniz's patrons, and that at Mainz Leibniz began his 
career as an independent investigator and scholar a career 
which might never have been realized if Leibniz had not come 
in contact so early in life with so magnanimous a prince we 
can understand what an influence the Archbishop must 
have had upon Leibniz, and how much importance must be at- 
tached to the fact that Johann Philipp Schonborn called 
Leibniz's attention to Spe. Schonborn was an admirer of 
Spe, Leibniz was an admirer of Schonborn, and Leibniz reite- 
rates again and again his debt to Schonborn for calling his 
attention to the works of Spe. 

In the letter to Landgraf Ernst of Hessen-Rheinfels (1680) 
Leibniz refers to "le grande Jean Philippe" who put an end 
to the witch persecutions in his province as a result of Spe's 
ringing protest; in the letter to Herzog Rudolph of Braun- 
schweig-Liineburg (1693) Leibniz again refers to the "Chur- 
fiirst zu Mainz Johann Philipp" who praised highly Spe's 
Tugendbuch; in the letter to Morell (1696) Leibniz mentions 
"Jean Philippes Electeur de Mayence" as the first man who 
called his attention to the Tugendbuch; in the letter to the 
Electress Sophie (1697) he thanks "le grand prince, qui estoit 
en meme temps un grand prelat" for recommending Spe's 
book; in the famous letter to Placcius (1697) he tells the story 
of Spe's gray hair and cites Spe's books which he commended 
to many friends of both creeds and which he first learned of 
"ex ore Eminentissimi Electoris Moguntini Johannis Philip- 
pi"; in the letter to Mile, de Scudery (1698) he states that 
Johann Philipp had given him a copy of the Tugendbuch; in 
the letter to Baron Imhof (1708) he again states that he re- 
ceived the Tugendbuch from "1'Electeur de Mayence Jean 
Philippe de Schonborn"; in the Theodicee (1710) he refers 
once more to the "grand Electeur de Mayence" who first 
directed his attention to Spe. Johann Philipp Schonborn, 
Archbishop of Mainz, as has been stated before, must, there- 
fore, be looked upon as the important connecting link between 
Spe and Leibniz. 

A third point deserves special consideration the class of 
people to whom the letters mentioning Spe are addressed. All 



348 Lieder 

these letters are addressed to persons who were prominent in 
life and who wielded great influence. It was evidently Leib- 
niz's intention to make Spe's works known by recommending 
them to people of influence. Many of the letters were writ- 
ten to members of the nobility to the Landgraf of Hessen- 
Rheinfels, to the Duke of Braunschweig-Liineburg, to the 
Electress Sophie of Hanover, to the Baron Imhof who at 
that time was accompanying to Barcelona the Princess Eliza- 
beth Christine, wife of Archduke Carl who became King of 
Spain and later Emporer Charles VI. The whole Theodicee, 
moreover, was written primarily for Sophie Charlotte, Queen 
of Prussia. A few letters and extracts were written for mem- 
bers of the clergy the Archbishop of Cambray, the Abbe 
Molanus, 1 the Abbe Nicaise, and Father DesBosses who trans- 
lated the Theodicee into Latin. The remaining letters were 
addressed also to well known personages to Morell, the fa- 
mous collector of coins who was at one time head of the mint 
in Paris; to Placcius, the scholar of Hamburg who published 
large volumes of letters received by him from many people; 
and to Mile, de Scudery, the distinguished French writer. 
Those of Leibniz's works in which occur passages closely con- 
nected with our subject Codex Juris, the Nouveaux Essais, 
the Theodicee are to be classed with his most important pro- 
ductions. Finally, the two documents which are neither let- 
ters nor extracts from larger works the Grundriss recom- 
mending the establishment of an academy of sciences, and the 
Elogium Patris Friderici Spee are peculiarly interesting. 
They prove Leibniz's own personal esteem for Spe's works. 
In the former he avails himself of the ideas advanced in the 
introduction of the Tugendbuch and utilizes these ideas for 
the argument in favor of a great national academy; in the 
Elogium, which was not published until a century and a half 
after Leibniz's death, the great philosopher pays a glowing 
tribute to the author of the Guldenes Tugendbuch. 

This brings us to the fourth and most important point 
that all the letters and extracts, which are quoted because 

*In his letter to Morell, the famous collector of coins, Leibniz states 
that he recommended Spe's works to Molanus. I have been unable to 
find any trace of the Molanus letter. 



Friedrich Spe and the Theodicee of Leibniz 349 

they mention Spe's name, deal primarily with Spe's Gul- 
denes Tugendbuch. The Grundriss does not mention the Tu- 
gendbuch by name, but Leibniz's paragraphs show the un- 
mistakable influence of the introduction to the Tugendbuch, 
and the sixteenth paragraph containing the sentence "Und 
sind dahehr zu loben die herrlichen Gedanken des Patris Spee 
Soc. Jes., eines trefflichen Mannes, welcher einen Vorschlag 
gethan, wie man sich gewohnen solle, fast nichts soviel mog- 
lich ohne Reflexion zur Ehre Gottes vorbey passiren zu las- 
sen" leave no doubt as to the work of Spe that is referred to. 
In the Elogium several pages are devoted to an enthusiastic 
praise of the Tugendbuch: "quern vellem in omnium Chris- 
tianorum esse manibus. " In the letter to the Landgraf of 
Hessen-Rheinfels is stated: "j'en trouve gueres de la force 
du livre du P. Frederic Spee Jesuite intitule 'Giildenes Tu- 
gendbuch.' ' The letter to the Duke of Braunschweig-Liine- 
burg was sent with a copy of Spe's book which was highly 
recommended ; in the letter to Morell the book is again praised 
and the statement is made that the Abbe Molanus had also 
been greatly pleased with it; in the letter to the Electress 
Sophie, Leibniz develops his own ideas on love, but these 
ideas are adaptations of the ideas presented in Spe's Tugend- 
buch, a French translation of the introduction of which Leib- 
niz encloses in his letter; in the review of the Archbishop of 
Cambray's book the Tugendbuch is not mentioned by name 
but the reference to Spe's success in emphasizing "le pur 
amour de Dieu" is unmistakable; in the letter to Placcius 
Leibniz states that the "libri da/o/TiKoi" of Spe in which the 
latter demonstrates "artificium indefinenter laudandi Deum" 
deserve to be particularly recommended; the letters to Mile, 
de Scudery again emphasize the power of divine love and the 
second letter particularly recommends the Tugendbuch; the 
letter to Baron Imhof is sent with a copy of Spe's book and 
requests the baron to call Spe's book to the attention of the 
Queen (the wife of Charles, King of Spain and Emperor of 
the Holy Roman Empire) ; the first letter to DesBosses again 
refers to " elegantissimo libello" of Friedrich Spe; the 
Theodicee devotes two sections to Spe and his book. Of unus- 
ual interest are the last two letters to DesBosses. In the 



350 Lieder 

first Leibniz asks DesBosses to look up the descendants of 
Spe in Diisseldorf in the hope that some inedited works of 
Spe may be found; in the second, Leibniz thanks DesBosses 
for some information concerning Spe. 

All these references alone would indicate that Leibniz not 
only admired Spe's efforts as a humanitarian and writer, but 
that he agreed heartily with the ideas developed in the GUI- 
denes Tugendbuch, particularly in the introduction to this 
book. "We have more proof, however, that Leibniz practically 
adopted as his own the introduction of Spe's book. Among 
Leibniz's papers in the Royal Library at Hanover there are 
found x not only the original French translation, in his own 
handwriting, of the introduction to the Tugendbuch, but a 
number of copies corrected and approved by him. 

The French translation 2 which Leibniz sent to the Electress 
Sophie is faithful to Spe's original. Leibniz indicates that he 
agrees with the original by means of various short comments 
enclosed in brackets. These comments seem to be inserted main- 
ly for the sake of making perfectly clear what Spe has in 
mind. Leibniz, by first developing in his letter to the Electress 
his own ideas on the power of divine love (and these ideas as 
we saw in an earlier chapter are practically the same as 
Spe's), by then translating into French Spe's introduction, 
and finally by adding in brackets his own comments, accepts 
in its entirety Spe's introduction; this introduction, as we 
have seen in an earlier chapter, contains the gist of the whole 
Tugendbuch. 

VII. THE INFLUENCE OF THE THEODICEE 

If it has been established that Spe exerted some influence 
upon Leibniz, the importance of this influence can be em- 
phasized if we trace briefly the influence of the Theodicee 
upon the thought and literature of the eighteenth century. 

Upon its publication, the Theodicee began to be read by 
people of every rank and confession, by Catholics and Protest- 
ants, by princes, scholars, men of the middle and even of the 
lower classes. Its entertaining style, its digressions into so 

1 Klopp, vol. VIII, p. XV. 

J A copy may be found in Gerhardt, vol. III. 



Fried-rich Spe and the Theodicee of Leibniz 351 

many branches of learning, above all its cheerfulness ap- 
pealed to everybody. Though written in French, it was re- 
garded by Germans a monument of German scholarship, and 
Leibniz's fame became greater than ever before. 

The popularity of the Theodicee, however, was by no means 
confined to Germany. Written in French, it was eagerly read 
in France where, according to one biographer, 1 it is studied 
more thoroughly than in any other country. Even before the 
Theodicee was finished, Leibniz had arranged with the Jesuit 
father DesBosses to have the work translated into Latin. This 
Latin translation was adopted by Dutens in the first edition 
of Leibniz's works (1768), and thus became accessible to 
scholars all over the world. Many French and at least two 
Latin editions followed one another in rapid succession. Be- 
tween 1720 and 1744 four editions of the German translation 
apeared, and a fifth was issued by Gottsched in 1763. In Eng- 
land, the Theodicee circulated less widely, yet in 1716, the 
year of Leibniz's death, the Princess of Wales was active in 
trying to provide for an English translation. 

In short, the Theodicee, dealing as it did with some of the 
most vital problems of mankind, occupied the attention of 
Europe. Philosophers read it eagerly, for it indicated a dis- 
tinct advance in philosophical thought; many theologians 
readily accepted its principles which conformed in the main 
with doctrines emphasized by leaders in both churches; lay- 
men became interested, for it proved by learned arguments 
that the existing world was the best possible world, and that 
life in general was worth while. 

The reason for this widespread popularity of the Theodicee 
is not difficult to understand. For centuries the world had 
frequently been looked upon as a place of woe, of sin, of pain. 
Evil had been looked upon as a crime which could be atoned 
for only by suffering, perhaps by eternal damnation. The 
idea of the vicarious atonement had been emphasized by both 
churches. The wars of the preceding century in the Nether- 
lands, and France, and England Germany was still stagger- 
ing under the blow of the Thirty Years' War had only con- 
firmed men in their belief that there was more Evil in the 

1 Gnhrauer, vol. II, p. 255. 



352 Lieder 

world than Good. Suddenly the Theodicee appeared; men 
were willing to listen to its arguments. 1 

Once recognized, the Theodicee made its influence felt on 
contemporary thought and literature. Only the briefest out- 
line is possible in this chapter. In 1734 Haller in his poem 
Ueber den Ursprung des TJebels summed up poetically the lead- 
ing thoughts of the Theodicee. Uz followed with a Theodicee. 
Gottsched not only got out a translation of Leibniz's work, 
but also wrote a Hamartigeneia ("Verteidigung der besten 
Welt"). 2 

In the realm of pure philosophy, Leibniz had his followers 
in Wolf, Reimarus, Moses Mendelssohn, Thinning, Bilfinger, 
Baumgarten, Meier, and numerous others. 3 Though modified 
by these men in some features, Leibniz's system formed the 
basis for their own views. It is a well known fact that Kant, 
during the first period of his philosophical development, also 
was a follower of Leibniz and an admirer of the Theodicee.* 

Of greatest importance, however, was the influence of the 
Theodicee upon German literature through the great writers 
Lessing, Herder, Goethe, and Schiller. So vast is the subject 
of tracing Leibniz's influence upon these men that only the 
barest facts must suffice. 

Lessing and Herder were directly interested in Leibniz's 
philosophy. In the words of one biographer : 5 " Two men 
more than their many friends and allies, stand out as true 
heirs to the spirit of Leibniz; Lessing (1729-1781) and Herder 
(1774-1803)."" And again: "Both of them had inherited the 
true spirit, if not the systematizing tendency of Leibniz's 
philosophy. ' ' 6 

1 For an excellent account of the effect of the Theodicee see Bieder- 
mann, vol. II, pp. 267ff., and especially Josef Kremer, Da* Problem der 
Theodicee in der Philosophie und Literatur des 18. Jahrhunderts, Ber- 
lin, 1909, and Lempp, Das Problem der Theodicee in der Philosophie und 
Literatur des IS Jahrhunderts, Berlin, 1910. 

2 Biedermann, vol. II, p. 262. 

3 Cf. Willareth, p. 29ff; also Kuno Fischer, vol. II, pp. 743ff. 
*Cf. Kremer, p. 155ff. 
B Cf. Merz, pp. 195, 196. 
Merz, p. 198. 



Friedrich Spe and the Theodicee of Leibniz 353 

Of Lessing's philosophical writings at least four have been 
mentioned as showing distinct Leibnizian traces Das Chris- 
tentum der Vernunft (1753), Pope ein Metaphysiker (1755), 
Die Freimaurer-Gesprdche (1778-1780), Die Erziehung des 
Menschengeschlechts (1780). 1 In Lessing, Leibniz had one of 
his greatest admirers. In fact Lessing had even contemplated 
writing a biography of Leibniz, and had begun to collect ma- 
terial. 2 

Herder, like Lessing, was a follower of Leibniz; traces of 
Leibniz's influence are found in his Auch eine Philosophic der 
Geschichte zur Bildung der Menscheit (1774), and in the 
famous Ideen zur Philosophic der Geschichte der Menscheit 
(1784-1791). 3 

To trace Leibnizian principles in the "Weltanschauung" 
of Goethe is not difficult. We need only remember Herder's 
great influence on Goethe. In Faust, for instance, we find the 
problem of Evil treated in much the same way as in the works 
of Leibniz. Goethe 's pantheism was essentially the Leibnizian 
pantheism of the Monadologie and the Theodicee* Goethe 
sympathized with Spinoza in so far as the latter was a panth- 
eist, particularly, however, ->with Leibniz who solved the 
problem of the continuity of matter by his conception of the 
identity of Nature and spirit, of mind and body. 5 

In Schiller those elements of Kantian philosophy which in 
general agreed with Leibniz's system predominated. He be- 
lieved in the harmony of the world as the highest goal of 
mankind. All perfections of the universe are united in God. 
Love is the ladder upon which we ascend to God-likeness. 6 

When we realize that four great figures in German litera- 
ture Lessing, Herder, Goethe, and Schiller were faithful 
adherents of Leibnizian optimism, we can understand what an 

1 Willareth, p. 77. 

2 T. W. Rolleston, Life of Gotthold Ephraim Leasing, London, 1889, 
8 Willareth, p. 87. 

* Cf. Kuno Fischer, vol. II, p. 869. 
s Kuno Fischer, vol. II, p. 870. 

6 Kuno Fischer, vol. II, p. 874. Cf. also R. Boxberger, Schiller's 
Theodicte (Archiv fur Lit. Oesch., Vol. VIII, 1879, p. 120). 



354 Lieder 

influence Leibniz exerted. When we realize, therefore, how 
enthusiastic an admirer Leibniz was of Spe and of the GUI- 
denes Tugendbuch, also how much stress he laid on the im- 
portance of divine love, the conception of which he found 
worked out so consistently in the Tugendbuch, only then can 
we appreciate the part played in the history of German 
thought and German literature by Friedrich Spe. 

Harvard University. FREDERICK W. C. LIEDER. 



A History of English Relative Constructions 355 



A HISTORY OF ENGLISH RELATIVE CONSTRUC- 
TIONS 

We desire to return to the original meaning and force of 
"the which." It has been shown that it often had the force 
of a demonstrative pointing to a following asyndetic deter- 
minative clause. Attention has also been directed to the fact 
chat in this construction there was originally no strong dem- 
onstrative before the antecedent with a correlative in the sub- 
ordinate clause. It is now desired to give a few more examples 
of this older type of determinative clause to throw light upon 
the further development. 

There is often in Middle English a personal pronoun as 
antecedent followed by "the which" pointing to a following 
determinative clause, where in modern English the antece- 
dent is a stressed demonstrative with a correlative relative in 
the following clause : "jyt preyde he God of more grace, / J?at 
he myjt knowe hem by face, / }>e whyche receyued hyt wurj?y- 
ly" (Robert of Brunne's "Handlyng Synne," 10191-3) "He 
prayed God for grace that he might know those by sight who 
received it worthily," literally "that he might know them by 
sight, those, [they] received it worthily." "We also find the 
form "which that" here: "He which that hath the shortest 
shall beginne" (Chaucer's "Prolog," 836). The "which 
that" like "the which" points to the following clause. The 
asyndetic construction with "that" is also used here: "And 
to hem speke I alj?ermoost / ]>at lede]? her lyues in pride & 
boost" ("Cursur," 251-2, Trinity MS.) "And to those I 
speak the most who spend their lives in pride and boasting." 
The "fat" points to the following clause just as "the which" 
and "which that," differing from them only in that it is 
lighter in weight and indicates a little less pains to be exact 
and definite. The Cotton MS. has the stressed demonstrative 
")?oo" those here instead of the personal pronoun "hem." 
This is the new hypotactic type. The common Old English 
determinatives here were "se se6e." In Middle English this 
became ' ' he that. ' ' The choice of the personal pronoun " he " 
here for the antecedent shows very clearly that the original 



356 Curme 

construction was asyndetic. Both "he" and "that" were 
without stress. Hypotaxis with the strongly stressed demon- 
strative before the antecedent began in Middle English in the 
plural as here in the Cotton MS. with the form ")?oo that" 
those that. The corresponding singular form "that that" 
was impossible as there was already a "that that" in use with 
the force of "what." The modern English form "that one 
who" became available here, but for some reason its use has 
never become common as are the similar German forms ' ' der- 
jenige welcher" or "der welcher." Hence the old asyndetic 
form "he that" lingered on for a long while almost to our 
day. The feeling for this old form and the modern variation 
"he who" has not entirely disappeared. These forms are 
still often seen and heard in biblical language, old saws and 
modern sayings couched in the phraseology of the older 
saws, also very often in grammar and dictionaries as a con- 
venient terse rendering of foreign correlatives. In looking 
over this treatis the writer observed that he has used them 
himself. He is quite sure, however, that he does not employ 
them in ordinary conversation. The simplicity of older speech 
has here been replaced by a great variety of expressions which 
truly reflect the modern desire for accuracy of expression. 
We now usually say, with general force "any one that," or 
more commonly "any one who," "every one who," "that per- 
son who," "that man or woman who," "that man that" or 
more commonly ' ' that man who, " " that boy who, ' ' etc., plural 
"those who," or to be precise, "those men who," "those boys 
who," etc. Thus this hypotactic form has entirely supplanted 
the older "he the which" and "he which that" and also the 
simpler ' ' he that, " " they that. ' ' The forms with ' ' which ' ' have 
largely disappeared as "which" no longer refers to persons. 
We can of course still use ' ' which ' ' with reference to things : 
' ' These books and those which I sold yesterday. ' ' The ' ' the ' ' 
in "the which" and the "that" in "which that" gradually 
disappeared after the thoro establishment of the strongly 
stressed demonstratives "that" and "those" as antecedents. 
The office of pointing was assumed by the stressed demonstra- 
tive and "which" became a mere formal relative correlative 
to the preceding demonstrative. Thus "they the which" and 



A History of English Relative Constructions 357 

"they which that" became with reference to things "those 
which." 

Altho the older asyndetic forms have been supplanted by 
hypotactic types, asyndesis is too firmly rooted in English 
feeling to be easily suppressed. Modern asyndetic forms are 
very common here still wherever there is no occasion to be 
especially definite. We say: "this man and the one we met 
on the bridge ; these men and the ones we met on the bridge ' ' ; 
"the man we meet every morning," not any more in collo- 
quial speech "he that or he whom we meet every morning." 
When the pronoun in the subordinate clause is in the nomi- 
native relation we use the fuller asyndetic type with ' ' that ' ' : 
"a man that would do such a thing": <( the man that met us 
on the bridge." With reference to persons the present usage 
is inclined to employ "who" here: "A man who would do 
such a thing," etc. The "who" here may be felt as a real 
relative pronoun, but historically it has grown up out of the 
old asyndetic construction with "that." The "who" simply 
replaces "that" as a clearer expression for the idea of per- 
sonality. The "that" itself, however, is often considered a 
relative, so that the original force of "that" as a demon- 
strative pointing to a following asyndetic clause is fading 
away from our consciousness. 

A strong clear light is thrown upon the meaning of 
"which," "the which," and "which that" by the fact that 
they cannot be used when the antecedent is a vague, indefinite 
pronoun. This force of clear precise reference is still today 
so strong that we cannot say : " I gave him all which I had, ' ' 
but must use ' ' that, ' ' which is not so definite : " I gave him all 
that I had," or "all I had." Thus we say: "Nothing that 
I had pleased him ' ' rather than ' ' Nothing which I had pleased 
him." Compare also: "I gave him everything that I had" 
(indefinite) and "I gave him every thing which I had" 
(definite). Of course, "which" can be employed after in- 
definites when the reference becomes definite: "these books 
and all those which are lying on my table. ' ' The writer feels 
that there is a difference of meaning here if the word ' ' those ' ' 
is omitted. If the ' ' those ' ' is expressed the reference is defin- 
ite and the use of "which" is natural. If it is omitted the 



358 Curme 

reference becomes less definite and there arises a natural im- 
pulse to employ "that." Thus also in broad sweeping state- 
ments, especially after a superlative, ' ' that, ' ' not ' ' which, ' ' is 
used : ' ' That is the best book that I have ever read. ' ' After a 
superlative "that" is also used with reference to persons: 
"She is the prettiest woman that (not whom} I have ever 
seen." Of course, also in the predicate relation where the 
reference is to the abstract idea of quality rather than to a 
definite individual "that," not "who," is used: "Fool that 
I am to expect such a thing!" "He is not the man that he 
used to be." Do not confound the indefinite relative "that" 
with the definite demonstrative ' ' that " : " this fruit and that 
(definite demonstrative) I bought yesterday." "Nothing that 
(indefinite relative) I bought pleased him." We may, how- 
ever, regard ' ' that " as an indefinite relative only in a compara- 
tive sense. It is indefinite only as compared with "which." 
At the beginning of the Middle English period it was very 
much more used than "which." The form "who" had not 
yet come into use as a relative, so that "that" was the 
usual relative. It was replaced by ' ' which ' ' only when it was 
desired to make the reference more definite. Thus the indefi- 
nite force attached to it in comparison with "which." It is 
still very common and is used very often where the reference 
is entirely definite: "the book that I hold in my hand." It 
has been largely replaced by "who" with reference to per- 
sons and by "which" for accurate definite reference in case 
of things. In long intricate sentences "which" is now also 
often preferred to "that" because it has "greater carrying 
power" as expressed by Mr. C. Alphonso Smith in his "Short 
Circuit in English Syntax" in "Modern Language Notes," 
XIX. It marks more clearly than "that" the adjective rela- 
tive clause as such and thus enables us to get a clear view 
thru a long series of clauses, while ' ' that ' ' does not distinguish 
an adjective relative clause from a substantive or adverbial 
clause and thus sometimes obscures the view. Let us now re- 
turn to the older use of "which," especially "the which." 

There is in early Middle English often no definite article 
before the antecedent as the following demonstrative "]?e 
quilk" assumes the function of pointing to the following asyn- 






A History of English Relative Constructions 359 

detic relative clause: ")?as er four vertus principals, / Tpe 
quilk man elepes cardinals" ("Cursur," 10007-8) "These are 
the four principal virtues men call the cardinal virtues. ' ' No- 
tice that in modern English we place the demonstrative, i. e. 
the definite article before the noun. To bring out the full 
force of "the quilk" in the original it would be necessary 
to place ' ' those ' ' before the noun : ' ' These are those four vir- 
tues men call," etc. The author of the "Cursur" desired to 
determine the four virtues more definitely and accurately. 
Otherwise the form "]?at" or the simple asyndetic type with- 
out "J?at" might have been used here instead of "]?e quilk." 
Similarly there was often no definite article nor modifiers 
of any kind before the antecedent as the following demon- 
strative "]?e quilk" pointed to the following determinative 
clause : ' ' Pepins J?en he gaue him thrin, / ]?e quilk a )>e appel 
tre he nam )?at his fader ete of, adam" ("Cursur," 1366-8) 
' ' He gave him those three kernels that he had taken from the 
apple-tree that his father Adam had eaten of. ' ' Here there is 
no modifying word before "pepins." The author might 
have placed the definite article before the antecedent and 
then have used "that" instead of "]?e quilk" and this he 
often does. Again in this example the desire to become accu- 
rate and concise is apparent. The word "those" used in the 
translation was selected to bring out the force of the original. 
It seems to us too exact. The definite article would accord 
better with present usage. In Middle English, however, "the 
which" often stood before the determinative clause where we 
would today not desire to be so exact. The author of the 
"Cursur" used "the which" in fairly moderate bounds, but 
there is already a slight tendency to employ it where the more 
modest "that" or the simple asyndetic construction without 
"that" would be more appropriate. Later in the period this 
tendency increased everywhere. This desire to be definite ap- 
peared most commonly in official language, where the labored 
attempt to be exact manifests itself in all languages. The 
authors of works of polite literature, learned scholars, and 
the writers of the official records vied with one another in 
accuracy of expression. At the close of the fourteenth cen 
tury the whole situation had changed. The great simplicity 



360 Curme 

of early Middle English was replaced by a clumsy labored 
attempt to be accurate. Simple "That" was replaced by 
"the which" "the which that," or "which that." The e& 
cessive fondness for these long forms and their frequent use 
where the original proper shades were not observed led to the 
loss of their distinctive meanings and helped to bring them 
into disrepute. 

On the other hand, there are cases where the old demonstra- 
tive construction in both modern and Middle English tends 
to clearness and is much employed, especially where a rela- 
tive clause has already preceded and it is desired to add 
another one to make the reference more definite : ' ' ]?at )?ai )?e 
yongeist bring in place / J?at ]?ai lefte at J?eir fader in, / J?e 
quilk J>ai clepid beniamin" ("Cursur," 4982-4) "that they 
should bring their youngest brother that they had left at 
their father's house, the one they called Benjamin." We 
no longer use "the which" here, but modern "the one" is a 
faithful rendering of the spirit of Middle English "the 
which," indeed it is the modern continuation of the older 
asyndetic usage. This is nicely illustrated also by the follow- 
ing sentence: "His brade blissing he him gaue / ]?e quilk his 
broker wend at haue" (ib. 3713-14) "He (Isaac) gave him 
(Jacob) his ample blessing, the one his brother (Esau) ex- 
pected to receive." Here the construction with "the one" 
does not seem as justifiable as in the preceding sentence. As 
we look at it closer it makes upon us the impression of an 
afterthought as if the proper form should have been if we had 
had time to frame the sentence carefully: "He gave him 
the ample blessing that his brother had expected to receive." 
In Middle English the clause is not an afterthought. It is 
the regular form for the definite precise determinative clause. 
The demonstrative followed the antecedent regularly. The writ- 
er invites the reader to look at the first modern rendering of 
this sentence once more and examine if there is not something 
of this very precise form left in the form "the one." Is the 
clause after all an afterthought? Is it not rather the old 
precise form that has been preserved in colloquial language? 
There is one particular case where. this old precise form still 
lingers on. In Middle English a determinative clause intro- 



A History of English Relative Constructions 361 

duced by "the which" often limited a noun preceded by the 
indefinite article: "a godd had laban in his bure / \>e quilk 
J?at he was wonnt anure" (ib. 3921) "Laban had in his dwel- 
ling the god that he was wont to worship." It is quite evident 
that the reference is to a definite god and modern English re- 
quires the definite article before the antecedent. In older Eng- 
lish it was the custom in narrative to introduce by the indefi- 
nite article an object mentioned for the first time. After the ob- 
ject was introduced it was further on referred to by the 
definite article or a demonstrative. This common Middle 
English sentence reflects this old usage. Even modern Eng- 
lish can approach this old construction closely: "Laban had 
in his dwelling a god, the one he was wont to worship. " Again 
the writer is convinced that the clause is not an afterthought, 
but a real old construction that has been preserved to us in 
colloquial speech. 

As we have seen above "the which" was used as a demon- 
strative pointing to a following determinative clause corre- 
sponding to Old English "seSe" and "se." We should not 
forget, however, that "se8e" and "se" were also employed 
in Old English as regular relative pronouns. Now as "the 
which" assumed the function of older "seSe" and "se" it 
also assumed their relative function : ' ' For if we luf god in al 
oure hert, J?ar es na thyng in vs thurgh \e whilk we serve to 
syn" (Richard Eolle of Hampole's "The Form of Perfect Liv- 
ing," Horstmann's ed. p. 37). The presence of the preposi- 
tion before "J?e whilk" shows clearly that the construction is 
relative, not asyndetic. In the "Cursur" the real relative use 
of ")?e quilk" after prepositions is quite rare, as the old sim- 
ple asyndetic construction still prevails. The relative con- 
struction of "quilk J?at" is also little used here: "and J?e 
haligast i-wiss, / wit quilk \>at he smerd is" (19987-8) "and 
surely the Holy Ghost with which he is annointed. ' ' Even in 
Chaucer, who has such a pronounced fondness for "the 
whiche" and "which that" in the asyndetic type, we find 
these forms very little used after prepositions in the relative 
construction. The relative points backward to the antecedent 
and at the same time marks the beginning of the determinative 
clause. Thus the "the" in "the which" and the "that" in 



362 Curme 

"which that" are perfectly useless and out of place in the 
relative construction, while in the asyndetic type they per- 
form a useful function in pointing forward to the following 
asyndetic determinative clause. From the very beginning of 
the Middle English period simple "which" was more common 
after prepositions than the longer forms, as it more readily 
adapted itself to the real relative construction by reason of 
its lack of clear demonstrative form. On account of its fre- 
quent use here and the growing tendency in later literature to 
employ the hypotactic form, the boundaries of simple ' ' which ' ' 
were widened as over against ' ' the which ' ' and ' ' which that. ' ' 

Clear hypotactic form also appeared wherever a stressed 
demonstrative was placed before the antecedent : ' ' ]>at name 
the whylke gyffes comforthe to me in all angwys (Richard 
Rolle de Hampole," p. 1). "And in our yerd tlio herbes 
shall I finde, / the whiche han of hir propretee by kinde, / 
to purgen yow binethe and eek above" (Chaucer's "The 
Nonne Preetes Tale," 131-2). Attention has already been 
called above to the appearance of this new type in cases where 
the antecedent was a pronoun. Both where the antecedent 
was a stressed demonstrative and where it was a noun pre- 
ceded by a stressed demonstrative the stressed form with its 
strong demonstrative force robbed "the which" of its old 
function of pointing to the determinative clause and reduced 
it to the rank of a mere correlative relative pronoun. The 
"the" in "the which" and the "that" in "which that" in 
time disappeared as the demonstrative force was incompatible 
with their new rank of correlative relative pronoun. Thus the 
new form became "that name which," "those herbs which," 
etc. 

The writer cannot find anywhere any attempt to explain 
the rise of this very important new type. To him the placing 
of the demonstrative before the antecedent belongs to the gen- 
eral movement affecting the position of adjective elements. 
In oldest English adjective elements might stand after the 
noun where today the position before the noun is imperative. 
The complicated history of the word order of the adjective 
elements cannot be given here. The adjective elements that 
once followed the noun occupied this position in a functional 



A History of English Relative Constructions 363 

capacity. For instance, the demonstrative followed the noun 
that it might point to the following asyndetic relative clause. 
The demonstrative that once had the function of standing at 
the end of the principla proposition to point to the following 
clause took this function with it when it followed the general 
movement of the adjective elements to the position before the 
noun. It was not at first more strongly stressed than it was in 
its old position. A study of a large number of the oldest 
examples reveals that there is no tangible difference of mean- 
ing or emphasis between the old and the new construction. 
As it now in its new position stood before a noun it was often 
for the sake of emphasis strongly stressed just as the regular 
attributive "that." With this emphasis came a distinct dif- 
ferentiation of this type from the older form. Of course, the 
stress ivas not always present nor is it today, but it became 
the characteristic feature of the construction, for the "that" 
was always capable of stress whenever there was need of em- 
phasis. The new attributive demonstrative did not like the 
usual attributive demonstrative point to a visible individual 
or object but to the description of an individual contained in 
a following clause, the beginning of which was marked by the 
correlative relative. Where did the correlative relative come 
from? The original form of "]>at tre }>at was sua suete" 
("Cursur," 8292) "that tree that was so sweet" was "}>e tre 
]>at was sua suete." In case of a plural antecedent the "J?at 
became "]?aa," or "]?o," later "those," as the demonstrative 
that stood before a noun had a plural form: "to J?aa men 
J?at boodword bar" (ib. 14174) "to those men that bore the 
message." When "J?at" moved into the position before the 
antecedent it displaced "J?e." This change left a gap after 
the antecedent, for "J?at" had taken the place of ")?e" before 
the antecedent. In the examples from the Cursur, however, 
there is a "]?at" where this gap ought to be. This is a later 
development. We now select a sentence that shows the gap : 
">at ilk cupe J>ai soght >ai fand" (ib., 4916) "that very cup 
they sought they found." Modern English as can be seen by 
the translation preserves this form. It is still common: "I 
have just bought that book we looked at yesterday." This 
development gave the language a new asyndetic form. In- 



364 Curme 

stead of an unaccented article before the antecedent there is 
in the new type a demonstrative which is more or less ac- 
cented. Here as elsewhere the asyndetic construction with- 
out "J?at" can be replaced by the fuller form with "that," 
"which," "the which," "the which that," or "which that." 
All of these forms occur. The demonstrative after the ante- 
cedent, however, has lost its importance on account of the 
presence of the stressed demonstrative before the antecedent. 
The new type was soon felt as a hypotactic construction and 
the "the" in "the which" and the "that" in "which that" 
finally dropped out. This new hypotactic type with the 
stressed demonstrative before the antecedent influenced the 
old asyndetic type "he that," "they that." The unstressed 
personal pronoun became a stressed demonstrative as in 
"those that." 

John Purvey was very fond of the new hypotactic type with 
the stressed demonstrative before the antecedent or in case of 
a pronominal antecedent a demonstrative instead of a per- 
sonal pronuon: "iho thingis that ben of God, ben ordeyned" 
(Romans, 13.1). "And he bihelde thilke (=tho) that satan 
about hym" (Mark 3.35). Wyclif has here : "and beholdynge 
hem aboute that saten in the cumpas of hym." The north- 
erner Wyclif uses the old asyndetic type, while the Midlander 
employs the new hypotactic form. Purvey himself very often 
uses the old type, but his pronounced fondness for the new 
form explains his dropping the "the which V of Wyclif in 
his revision. Hypotactic form was deeply rooted in his feel- 
ing. The new hypotactic type with its greater terseness and 
elegance of form adapted itself better than the clumsy older 
type to the general tendency toward terseness of expression. 
Purvey seemed to follow instinctively the newer tendencies 
of the language. 

The rise of this new type with an accented demonstrative 
before the antecedent did not destroy the old asyndetic form. 
It survived, however, only in the simplest forms. Early in 
Middle English it was possible to say : ' ' the book that, which, 
the which that, or which that I hold in my hand. Of these 
different forms only two survive: "the book that or which I 
hold in my hand." Historically considered they are both 



A History of English Relative Constructions 365 

asyndetic in structure. Both "that" and "which" were 
originally demonstratives pointing to the following asyndetic 
determinative clause. Why did the "the" and the "that" 
drop out of the long forms? There seems to be only one an- 
swer. The determinative clause was felt as a relative con- 
struction and there was no longer need of a demonstrative 
form to point to the following asyndetic clause. The great 
abuse of the long forms had brought them into disrepute and 
the growth of hypotaxis was decidedly unfavorable to them. 
The relative of the hypotactie construction was a mere formal 
connective without inner meaning. Thus the long forms with 
their unwieldy size and their meaning significant but suggest- 
ive of things that no longer harmonized with their new rank 
of mere formal connective became gradually more and more 
foreign to the feeling of a time that had learned to prefer in 
speech elegance of form to awkward forcefulness. 

In the preceding pages the use of Old English "seSe" and 
"se" and Middle English "the which" and "the which that," 
"which that" and simple "which" has been discussed. The 
relation between the principal proposition and the following 
determinative clause was in all these constructions quite 
close. In Old English "se" was also used in the South and 
Midland to join loosely to some word in the principal propo- 
sition an explanatory statement or a clause containing some 
additional information : ' ' Daet is swiSe sweotol to ongitanne 
be sumum romaniscum sej?elinge, se waes haten Liberius" 
(King Alfred's "Boethius," Sedgefield's ed. p. 36) "That is 
to be seen very clearly in the case of a certain Roman noble- 
man whose name was Liberius." Originally parataxis was 
employed for such a loose relation and this older construc- 
tion is still very common in oldest English : " ]?a wses sum con- 
sul J?aet we herotoha hataS, Boetius waes gehateh" (ib. p. 8) 
"There was a certain consul or duke as we say whose name 
was Boethius. ' ' Parataxis is the natural English construction 
here. The relative construction arose under Latin influence. 
In early Middle English "se" became "Se," but it soon dis- 
appeared entirely as it was not felt as a clear relative form. 
The relative "which" which was employed in determinative 
restrictive clauses was also introduced into these clauses 



366 Curme 

where the connection was loose. This usage prevailed thruout 
the South and the Midland. In the North the corresponding 
form was "]?e quilk." This corresponds to the northern use 
of "sefte" in Old English. This longer form occurs with 
remarkable regularity in the Lindisfarne Glosses, while in the 
southern writers simple "se" is more common; "Mi6 '5y 
efern uutedlice geworden were cuom summ monn wlong from 
arimathia ftces wses noma ioseph sefie Se discipul was Saes 
hselendes" (Matth. 27.57) "When the evening had come there 
came a certain rich man of Arimathea who was called Joseph 
who also himself was Jesus' disciple." In this sentence there 
are two relatives each introducing a loose relative clause. The 
first relative is "se," the second is "seSe. " In the Corpus 
Ms. "se" occurs in both clauses. Thus the glossarist of the 
Lindisfarne MS. knows both forms in this use, but he very 
often employs ' ' seSe ' ' where we in the South find simple " se. " 
The North seemed to prefer the longer form here and else- 
where. Hence when "seSe" had disappeared the form ")?e 
quilk," which was elsewhere used with the same force as 
"se8e," took its place, not only where the connection was 
close but also here for loose connection: "]?at ilk dai a 
propheci said symeon of vr leuedi, / of hir and of her sun 
iesu, / Ipe quilk i sal sai yow nu" ("Cursur," 11357-6 0). 
This "J?e quilk" spread southward in the form of "the which" 
and enjoyed for a long while great favor, but later it dis- 
appeared here as also elsewhere. Now we employ here 
"which" for things and "who" for persons. Altho Old 
English "se" was generally replaced in early Middle English 
by "which" and "the which" the neuter form "J?aet," later 
"that," lingered on for a long while in the Middle English 
period wherever it referred to a sentence : ' ' Lo, nece, I trowe 
ye han herd al how / the king. . . / hath mad eschaunge of 
Antenor and yow, / that cause is of this sorrow and this un- 
reste" (Chaucer's "Troilus and Criseyde," 876-9). Later 
"which" replaced also here the older form. 

Both "which" and "the which" were not only used as 
pronouns as in all preceding cases, but they were also used 
as adjectives standing before a noun: "For-Jn lete god )?am 
lijf sua lang / )?at thai moght seke and vnderfang / )?e kynd o 



A History of English Relative Constructions 367 

thinges J?at ]?an were dern, / curs o sun and mone and stern, / 
]>e quilk curs moght nan fulli lere / J?at moght noght Hue an 
hundret yere" ("Cursur," 1541-6) "Therefore God let them 
live so long that they could understand the nature of things 
that then were hidden, the course of sun and moon and the 
stars, which course no one could fully learn who could not 
live a hundred years." The loss of inflection made the refer- 
ence much less definite than in the older inflected language and 
the antecedent was often repeated preceded by "which" or 
"the which" to make the reference perfectly clear. The 
weakness of the new uninflected form became apparent at 
once, and so we find this adjective use in the oldest northern 
documents. The adjective form sprang up out of the pro- 
nominal form, which as we have seen above was originally a 
demonstrative. As the pronominal relative form sometimes re- 
tained the older demonstrative form so also the adjective 
form: "The king gredy of commune slaughter caste him to 
transporten up al the ordre of the senat the gilt of his real 
majestee, of the whiche gilt that Albin was accused" (Chauc- 
er's "Boethius," I, Prose 4) "The king planned to prefer 
against the entire body of the senate the charge of high trea- 
son of which Albin had been accused. The rough transla- 
tion does not at all bring out the intricate tangle of the lan- 
guage. The words "the which that" are the old demonstra- 
tive asyndetic type and originally pointed to something fol- 
lowing, so that they originally meant : ' ' that charge, that one, 
Albin was accused of [it]. In Chaucer's sentence the prepo- 
sition before the relative indicates clearly that the construc- 
tion is relative. The old demonstrative and the new relative 
type had been mingled. 

This new construction was often more convenient than ele- 
gant : ' ' And anon a man in unclene spirit ran out of a biryel 
to hym goynge out of the boot, the whiche man hadde an hous 
in graues or biriels" (Wyclif 's Mark 5.2-3 about A. D. 1380). 
John Purvey who has simplified so many of Wyclif 's sen- 
tences wasn 't able to solve this difficulty. Gradually it became 
evident that the antecedent must be brought as near to the 
end of the principal proposition and as near to the relative 
as possible so that the reference might become definite : ' ' And 



368 Curme 

when he was come out of the shyp there met hym out of the 
graues a man possessed of an vneleane sprite / which had his 
abydynge amonge the graues" (Mark 5. 2-3, William Tin- 
dale, A. D. 1534). The authors of the King James version us- 
ually follow Tindale quite closely, but they here improved upon 
his language in that they chose the new relative form "who" 
instead of the older "which" so as to bring out the idea of 
personality more clearly: "And when hee was come out of 
the ship immediately there met him out of the tombes a man 
with an vneleane spirit who had his dwelling among the 
tombs" (A. D. 1611). It is quite probable that it was from 
such cases that the use of ' ' who ' ' began to encroach upon the 
province of "which" and "that," so that its almost uniform 
use today without regard to the closeness of the connection 
wherever there is a reference to persons threatens to break 
down the old distinction that "who" indicates a looser con- 
nection than "that": "those that are heavy" (of things); 
"those who are heavy"; "the man whom we met on the 
bridge." Of course wherever there is a reference to things 
in such involved sentences as those cited above the simple ex- 
pedient of using ' ' who ' ' cannot be employed and recourse must 
sometimes be had to the inelegant "which" and the repeated 
antecedent. 

The adjective form is not only used as in the preceding 
examples where the connection between the relative clause and 
the main proposition is loose, but also where the connection 
is close as in the determinative construction: "But what 
shall I saye of delices of body of whiche delices the desirin- 
ges ben ful of anquissh and the fulfillingss of hem ben ful of 
penaunce?" (Chaucer's "Boethius," III, Prose 7). Here 
there is an evident desire to connect the relative closely with 
the word "delices," and hence the repetition becomes necs- 
sary. Perspicuity is the highest law in language, and even 
elegance must yield to its demands. 

The rise of this construction is contemporaneous with 
French influence, but it would be very difficult to prove that 
its origin is due to this source. It arose naturally from the 
loss of inflection and the new and difficult problems that 
resulted from that new condition. It came as naturally and 



A History of English Relative Constructions 369 

as inevitably as the change in the word-order. The develop- 
ment was natural because in early Middle English when this 
construction arose "which" was often a demonstrative ad- 
jective and stood before the noun which is limited: ll Wulc 
wrascche folc swa mihte fleh ut of J?eode" (Layamon's "Brut," 
29143-4) "Those wretched people who could fled out of the 
country." At this same time "which" was also used as a 
relative. That it should be used as a demonstrative and at 
the same time as a relative is what we have seen repeatedly 
above in case of the relatives "which," "the which," "which 
that," which had not yet laid aside their former distinctive 
demonstrative forms. The fact that similar conditions had 
existed in French is convincing proof to some scholars that 
our English forefathers simply borrowed this construction 
from the French. We have the example of the development 
of the relative "which" in English and the relative "welch" 
in German. There is not the slightest relation between these 
parallel developments. The writer speaks a language full of 
French words and he knows that French has greatly in- 
fluenced the English vocabulary, but he has learned to ac- 
knowledge the influence of French upon the grammatical 
structure of English only when the proof is indisputable. 

Just as Old English "swa hwylc swa" developed from the 
indefinite general relative into the definite relative "which" 
Old English ' ' swa hwa swa ' ' whoever developed into the defin- 
ite relative ' ' who. ' ' The development has been sketched above 
in connection with the history of the relative ' ' which. ' ' Altho 
the oblique cases of "who" were early in Middle English 
used as genuine relatives as described above the nominative 
form "hwa" in the original indefinite expression "swa hwa 
swa" was used as a demonstrative. The literal meaning of 
this expression is "that that one that." The first "swa" 
dropped out later and the second ' ' swa ' ' was usually replaced 
by "that." Thus tho "whose" and "whom" were widely 
used as relatives the nominative "who that" had the force 
of a demonstrative pointing to a following asyndetic relative 
clause: "for who ]>at entre)? J?er, / he his (=is) sauff euere- 
more" (William of Shoreham's "De Baptismo," 5-6). "For 
that one that enters there is safe for evermore." The same 



370 Curme 

usage also occurs in the oblique cases in spite of the fact that 
' ' who ' ' is here usually employed as a relative : ' ' Me thinketh 
this that thou were depe y-holde / to whom that saved thee 
fro cares colde!" (Chaucer's ''Legend of Good Women," 
VI, 70) "deeply indebted to that one that saved you," etc. 
Later also the nominative "who" as described above was 
used as a relative. The general indefinite form "who that" 
was replaced by "whoever." 

In the same manner the general indefinite neuter form ' ' swa 
hwaet swa" whatever developed into the definite relative 
"what": "Sell me, Peterr, for erj?lij fe / off hali Gast swilc 
mahte, / Jmrrh what ice mujhe spekenn wel / wi]?)? alle J?ede 
spaechess" ("Ormulum 16060-2) "Sell me, Peter, for earthly 
goods that power of the Holy Ghost by which I can speak the 
languages of all peoples." This relative use of "what" is 
still found in Shakespere : " I fear nothing what can be said 
against me (Hen. VIII V.I). This usage was never wide- 
spread for there was no real need of "what" as a relative as 
"which" or "that" could always take its place. 

The use of "what" as a relative developed from older 
demonstrative force just as in case of "who" and "which." 
This demonstrative meaning developed very early and is still 
often observed. It was already clearly developed in Old 
English: "J?onne mihte we micle J>e eS ge]?olian swa hwcet 
earfoSnessa swa us on become" (King Alfred's "Boethius, 
Sedgefield's ed., p. 23). "Then could we all the easier endure 
what hardships would befall us," literally that that of hard- 
ships that, [it] would befall us." This Old English example 
explains fully how a neuter form could stand before a noun 
with a different gender. The "hwaat" is a neuter pronoun 
modified by the following genitive " earf oSnessa. " In early 
Middle English the grammatical relations here could no 
longer be seen as the loss of inflection obscured the vision and 
"what" was interpreted as a demonstrative adjective modi- 
fying the following noun : ' ' What mann se shall f orrwerrpenn 
J?iss / to lefenn and to trowenn, / )?at mann iss nu^u 
demnd" ("Ormulum," 17747-9) "That man who will refuse 
to believe this, that man is condemned. ' ' Old English ' ' swa ' ' 
appears here as "se." The literal force is "that man, that 



A History of English Relative Constructions 371 

one." The demonstrative "that" is also often used instead 
of "se": "What man that is norissed by fortune she mak- 
eth him a great fool" (Chaucer's Melibeus," 2643-5). 
"What that I may helpe, it shal not fayle" (id., Troilus and 
Criseyde," IV, 938). The modern form here is "whatever": 
Whatever claim I had I resign." "Whatever I suffer I have 
brought upon myself." In Middle English simple "what" 
was often employed instead of "what that" in a sense a 
little less general and indefinite : ' ' For it is set in your hand 
.... what fortune yow is levest ' ' ( Chaucer 's ' ' Boethius, ' ' IV. 
Prose 7). Simple "what" is now widely used: "The enter- 
tainer provides ivhat fare he pleases." "I gave him a list of 
what books I needed." Here "what" is a demonstrative still, 
followed by an asyndetic relative clause. We might with only 
slightly changed meaning substitute "those" or with weak 
force ' ' the ' ' for ' ' what " : "I gave him a list of those or the 
books I needed." Modern usage makes a slight difference 
between "what" and "those" or "the." We can only use 
"what" when the reference is somewhat vague. Thus we 
cannot say: "I gave him the name of what book I needed." 
The plural without the article is always indefinite and hence 
we can say : " I gave him the names of ivhat books I needed. ' ' 
Of course we can use "what" before a singular noun if the 
reference is indefinite: "I told you ivhat book I needed," but 
with definite reference: "This is the book I needed." In the 
latter case the reference is perfectly definite, in the former case 
something is introduced without exact and definite descrip- 
tion. The idea of indefiniteness that now dwells in the demon- 
strative "what" makes the following lines of Milton seem a 
little quaint: "He it was whose guile / stirred up with envy 
and revenge deceived / the mother of mankind, what time his 
pride / had cast him out from heaven." We would now say 
"the" instead of "what" as the reference is definite. The 
older language did not distinguish so nicely here. Even 
prominent grammarians have misinterpreted modern usage 
here and represent "what" as declining in usage. On the 
contrary, it is even necessary in modern usage where a general 
or indefinite idea is to be expressed. We must say: "We say 
ivhat we know," not "We speak that we do know" (St. John, 



372 Curme 

3.2.), nor "that that we know" as formerly. We use "what" 
exclusively in substantive clauses. The reference often seems 
definite, but it will usually appear upon closer thought to be 
indefinite as something is introduced without exact and defin- 
ite description: "Here is what I was looking for." Shake- 
spere's "If this be not that you look for" (Taming of the S., 
4, 4, 97) seems to us today too definite. This indefinite use 
of "what" occurs also in a question: "What are you looking 
for?" The use of "what" is not declining, but it has re- 
ceived more definite boundaries. It is often used today where 
it was not employed in earlier periods and is often obsolete 
where it was once common. 

The development of "the which" out of "seSe suae hwaelc" 
has been given above. It would be natural to expect the 
development of the corresponding form ' ' the who, " as we find 
in the Lindisfarne Glosses the corresponding Old English 
form "seSe sua hua": " Se$e sua hua mec onfoaS onfoaS done 
ilca seSe mec sende" (Luke 9.48) "He who receives me re- 
ceives him who sent me. ' ' The corresponding Middle English 
form "the who" occurs only rarely: "The ferste of hem 
so as I rede, / was Morpheus, the whos nature / is forto take 
the figure / of what person that him liketh" (Gower's "Con- 
fessio Amantis," IV 3038-41). "And as it were a wilde 
beste, / the whom no reson mihte areste" (ib. II, 161-2). 
Three more examples from Gower are given in Morris' "His- 
torical Outlines of English Accidence," p. 131. These few 
examples are the only ones that the writer has been able to 
find altho he has spent a good deal of time in a fruitless search 
for more. There is such a long period of time and a large 
stretch of space between the Lindesfarne Glosses of Durham 
and the language of this southerner that it seems absolutely 
impossible to see a relationship between the language of the 
two documents. It is much more probable that "the who" 
is a mere analogical formation after the pattern of "the 
which." The form "seSe sua hua" of the Durham glossarist 
was not as deeply rooted in the speech-feeling of his northern 
countrymen as "sefte suae huaelc" and disappeared entirely. 
Later the southern poet Gower had a similar inspiration, but 
it likewise found no warm sympathetic reception. 



A History of English Relative Constructions 373 

The development of the general indefinite relative has been 
treated above in connection with the definite relative. It is 
only desired to say a word here about the late form "who- 
ever." In oldest and Middle English there is here some sort 
of a demonstrative after the relative : ' ' swa hwa swa, " " wha 
se," "qua sa," "who that," "quatsum," etc., often, how- 
ever, the simple form "who," "qua," "what." At the close 
of the Old English period a new form arose in which the ad- 
verb ' ' ever ' ' took the place of the demonstrative : "el ]?at 
cefre betst waes" (Chronicle for the year 1048) "Whatever 
was best." "All ]?att cefre iss sinne and woh / all comm ]?att 
off }e defell" ("Ormulum," 18767-8) "Whatever is sin and 
wrong came from the devil." "To gedir wrightes far and 
nere, / quareuer J?at ]?ai funden were" ("Cursur," 4671-2, 
Cotton MS.), "quare J?ai euer fundyn were" (Fairfax MS.), 
"quare J?at euer J?ai funden were" (Gottingen M.S.) "to gather 
workmen far and near wherever they might be found." 
"Quatsum euer J>ou se or here" (ib. 10508) "whatever thou 
seest or hearest." "And who euere schulen not resseyue, ne 
here jou" (Wyclif, Mark 6.11) Here as so often elsewhere 
Chaucer by the almost uniform use of "whoso," "who that" 
"Whatso," "What that," "Wher that" shows that he is in 
touch with older English, while John Purvey by the use of 
"who euer" ( Wyclif s "who euere"), "What eure," "where 
euer" makes manifest that he feels the newer life of the lan- 
guage. It is so evident that this new usage which began at a 
period when English was free from French influence is a nat- 
ural English development that the writer does not think it 
necessary to reply to Mr. Einenkel's claim of influence from 
Old French "qui que onkes." 

The form "who" is so deeply rooted in present speech- 
feeling as a relative or an interrogative that its original use 
as an indefinite pronoun with the meaning "some one" is en- 
tirely forgotten. This oldest meaning, however, has come 
down to the present period in one peculiar idiomatic saying 
"as who should (or would) say": "The Father of the Mar- 
shalsea glanced at a passing Collegian as who should say, 
'An enfeebled old man this' " (Dickens L. D. 19), literally, 
"as if one would say," or "as if he would say," for "who 



374 Curme 

in this particular idiom is indefinite in form but definite in 
meaning. Similarly Bosshart in "Die Barrettlitochter, p. 
136 has said: "Wer's konnte, wie er!" ''If / could only do 
as he did!" There is here the force of a condition in the 
clause introduced by "wer." This conditional idea often oc- 
curs in this construction: "Fragen ist keine Schande, wer 
ein Ding nicht weiss" (Grimm) "It is not a disgrace to ask a 
question if one doesn't know." "]?e hali writte lies na wight, 
/ qua can vnderstand J?e right" ("Cursur," 14702-3) "Holy 
Writ doesn't lie if one can understand the right." There is 
often in Middle English a subjunctive in such conditional 
clauses where they follow the conjunction "as": "Sy]?)?en 
loked God vppon ludas, as who sey, 'aske mercy for J?y tres- 
pas' " (Robert of Brunne's "Handlyng Synne," 5193-4) 
"Afterwards Jesus looked upon Judas as if we would say: 
'Ask mercy for thy trespas.' ' The subjunctive here seems 
to point to quite ancient usage, for the subjunctive was once 
common in such clauses altho the writer has not been able to 
find cases in older English in this one particular saying. It 
seems to be a colloquial expression that had not found its 
way into the older literary language. The subjunctive is the 
particular use found in indefinite general clauses: "He that 
troubleth you shall bear his judgment, whosoever he be" 
(Galatians 5.10, King James version). We now usually em- 
ploy "maybe" here. In Middle English the subjunctive tho 
not common was more frequent than today: "And qua o)?er 
ouercom in field / ]?e to]?er folk al til him yeild" ("Cursur" 
7463) "Whoever may overcome the other in the field let the 
other party yield to him, " or "If one of you should overcome 
the other in the 'field let," etc. The subjunctive here has ex- 
actly the same force as in the sentence from Robert of Brunne 
and the construction is also the same in the two clauses. Both 
are indefinite general clauses introduced by "who" who- 
ever. Hence the literal meaning of the passage from Robert 
of Brunne is : " Jesus looked upon Judas as some one who or 
whoever may say," etc., or "Jesus looked upon Judas as if 
he would say, ' ' etc. Here as so often elsewhere the indefinite 
general force developed into definite reference. The position 
of the clause after "as," which in Middle English often 



A History of English Relative Constructions 375 

meant "as if," gradually led to the idea of a conditional 
clause. This development was very easy and natural as the 
original general relative construction with the present sub- 
junctive was little used and not vividly felt, while the con- 
ditional idea was elsewhere often associated with clauses in- 
troduced by "who" whoever as illustrated above. As the 
conjunction, "as" as if usually was associated with the past 
subjunctive, the form for the expression of unreality, the 
present subjunctive in this construction was replaced by the 
past, usually the past subjunctive of an auxiliary verb : ' ' Ho 
turned her ouer wij? hit in arme / as qua sulde sai: 'I know na 
harme' " ("Cursur," 8611-12, Fairfax MS.) "She turned 
over with it (the child) in her arms as if she would say: 'I 
know of no harm.' " The older construction with the pres- 
ent subjunctive is more common in the "Cursur." The 
newer form alone has come down to the present period. 

Parallel with the construction with the present subjunctive 
described above is the use of the indicative to represent the 
statement not as a mere conception but as an actuality: "But 
of the thinges that ben taken also it is necessarie, as who 
sayth, it folweth of that which that is purposed biforn" 
(Chaucer's "Boethius," IV Prose 4) "It is a necessary result 
of the things that have preceded, as we say (literally as one 
says), it follows from that which was planned in advance." 
Here "as who seyth" has the force, of "in other words." In 
this translation Chaucer uses "as who seyth" a great many 
times, often over and over again on the same page. In his 
struggle to translate accurately he seeks as in the above ex- 
ample a second expression for the thought of the original 
that he has just rendered. In one passage at the opening of 
Book II, Prose I after essaying a translation of the introduct- 
ory sentence he starts again introducing the second rendering 
by the words: "as who mighte seyn thus" one might express 
it thus. 

In "Anglia XXVII pp. 136-9 and in Paul's "Grundriss" 
p. 1119 Mr. Einenkel essays to prove the French origin of "as 
who says." He argues that the use of the subjunctive form 
"say(e)" described above must have come from a foreign 
source as the English subjunctive had almost disappeared. 



376 Curme 

The subjunctive in general indefinite clauses, however, was 
as we have seen above actually in use not only in this one 
saying but also elsewhere and is even found much later. Mr. 
Einenkel cannot accept the English origin of "as who say(e) " 
as there are no examples in Old English usage, but he as- 
sumes Old French origin altho he has not been able to find 
any cases of the subjunctive form in actual use. The modern 
French form is "comme qui dirait" with the conditional but 
he assumes that there must have been an older form ' ' Comme 
qui disse" with the subjunctive as the subjunctive is used 
in the Middle English, that is, he discovers an unknown Old 
French syntactical construction from its presence in English. 
Even if he could find actual cases of it in Old French the 
French origin of the English usage would not be assured. 
There is something peculiarly West Germanic in this con- 
struction as attested by the close correspondence of German 
and English here as illustrated above. 

Mr. Einenkel has written a number of interesting things about 
French influence upon English, but he is so bent upon discover- 
ing French influence that he often jumps to conclusions, so that 
we must in general be on our guard in reading him. We 
have room here for the consideration of only one more of 
these discoveries. On page 1119 of Pauls "Grundriss" Mr. 
Einenkel remarks: "Sicher sind die haufigen chose qui = 
thing that = ne. what, z. b. afrz. s'il avoit dit chose qui fust 
contre I'honneur Comm. > me. alday fayleth thinge that 
fooles wenden Ch." The writer has spent a valuable part of 
his life in deciphering such German hieroglyphics, but as he 
is not brilliant by nature he is not real sure that he has 
caught the meaning. As the passage is with a number of 
others that show French influence upon English he assumes 
that this sentence means that Old French "chose qui" led to 
the frequent use of "thing that" in Middle English, which in 
the modern period has become "what." It is strange that a 
student of English could have failed to notice the fondness of 
Englishmen for a noun where other languages would use a 
relative pronoun: "cy]?aj? iohanne J?a ding J?e ge gehyrdon" 
(Matth. 11.4, Corpus) "saecgas ge [iohannes] Sa worda ge- 
herdon" (Lindisfarne Glosses) "renuntiate jiohanni quae 



A History of English Relative Constructions 377 

audistis" (Lindisfarne Latin text) "Shew John again those 
things which ye do hear" (King James Version). In the 
writer's own feeling it is still common and natural to say: 
"Tell John the things you have heard." Of course "what" 
is also sometimes heard here, but it certainly is not true that 
it has replaced "the things" as indicated in the hieroglyphic 
formula of Mr. Einenkel. Similarly we use "the things" 
where in other languages we may find a demonstrative pro- 
noun: "bige }>a ]>ing J?e us )?earf sy" (John 13.29, Corpus) 
' ' ema ea quae opus sunt nobis " " buy the things we need. ' ' 

The relative "as" arose in early Middle English in the 
combination "such as": "wi)?J? all swillc rime alls her iss 
sett" ("Ormulum," dedication 1.101) "With just such a 
poetical measure as is presented here." This usage survives. 
Its spirit is the same as that which characterized the early Mid- 
dle English construction, i. e. is asyndetic. The "alls" (=all 
so) in "Ormulum" is a demonstrative pointing to the follow- 
ing asyndetic relative clause. The construction has undergone 
no development and hence remains asyndetic. It is now lim- 
ited to the combinations "such as," "the same as," "as 
(or so) much as," "as (or so) many as." It was once 
more widely used following a noun or any demonstrative: 
"The first Soudan was Zarocon. . .as was fadre to Sahaladyn" 
(Mandeville's "Voiage," v. 36). "Those as sleep and think 
not on their sins" (Shakespere's "Merry Wives of W. 5.5). 

In looking back over the development of the English rela- 
tive constructions the distinctive feature of the earlier per- 
iods is the asyndetic structure of the sentences. Thus there 
is often no sign to indicate the conditional idea: "Qua has to 
wenden ani wai, / god es to go bi light of dai" ("Cursur" 
14194-5) "// one has to go on a journey it is good to go in the 
light of day," literally "Whoever has to go on a journey, it 
is good to go in the light of day. ' ' The two propositions simp- 
ly lie side by side without any formal sign of subordination. 
The causal idea likewise has no formal expression : ' ' And she 
that was not lernyd to recyue suche gestes sore hard was his 
queyntaunce to her" ("Caxton's " Blanchardyn, " p. 67) 
"As she was not experienced in receiving such guests his 



378 Curme 

company was a sore trial to her," literally "She, that one, 
[she] was not experienced in receiving such guests, his com- 
pany was a sore trial to her. Thus there is a series of ut- 
terances connected not by the form but by the thought. No- 
tice that this sentence is exactly like the following saying of 
King Alfred: "Se seSe hine forSencS se bits ormod" ("Boet- 
hius," Sedgefield's ed. p. 19) "That, that one there, [he] 
despairs, that one is sad." Old English "se se8e" should 
become in Middle English "that that that," but the awkward 
and ambiguous combination was avoided and the new form 
"he that" arose. Thus Caxton's sentence resembles King 
Alfred's in every particular. No real change had taken place 
in the language. Mr. Leon Kellner in his "Historical Out- 
lines of English Syntax" p. 65 remarks on such sentences: 
' ' The adjective clause of the older periods is deficient in point 
of consistency and unity it is pleonastic and anacoluthic 
the modern one grammatically correct." There is, however, 
no lack of consistency or unity in the older sentence. It is 
consistently asyndetic. The unit is each utterance. It is also 
not ungrammatical as Dr. Kellner implies. Each utterance 
is as grammatical as the most finished sentence of a modern 
master. By "ungrammatical" and "anacoluthic" Dr. Kell- 
ner undoubtedly means such sentences as: "A knight ther 
was and that a worthy man, / that fro the tyme that he first 
bigan/ to ryden out, he loved chivalrye" (Chaucer's "Pro- 
log," 43-5,. At first sight it seems that the "that" after 
"man" is a relative and introduces a relative clause and that 
later the poet changed the construction and employed the 
personal pronoun "he" as subject of the verb "loved," for- 
getting that he had already made "that" the subject. The 
sentence is, however, in the strictest sense grammatical, but 
fashioned after a very old pattern. The ' ' that ' ' after ' ' man ' ' 
is a demonstrative. It points to the following asyndetic rela- 
tive clause: "fro the tyme that he first bigan to ryden out 
he loved chivalrye." Here the pronominal subject of the 
clause, "he," is expressed. It is usually understood but in 
such a setting is expressed also in Old English. Attention 
has been called above to a sentence from Hans Sach which is 
exactly like it: "Mein Herr, ich bin der man, die manner ich 



A History of English Relative Constructions 379 

gefressen han, die selber waren Herr im Haus." ("Der Nar- 
renfresser" 11.59-61). In both the German and the English 
sentence the demonstrative points to a complete clause which 
describes what kind of a man the person in question is. 

The great difference between the older and the modern type 
is clearly seen in the following example: "Donne wees Biise 
Eastengla biscop, }>e we saegdon J?aette in }?aem foresprecenan 
seonoSe waere" (Beda's "Ecclesiastical History," p. 280.11- 
12) "Then Bise was bishop of the East Angles, who, we have 
already said, was present in the before-mentioned synod," 
literally: "Then Bise was bishop of the East Angles, that one, 
we have already said that, [he] was present in the before- 
mentioned synod." The subject of the last clause is usually 
omitted, but it is sometimes expressed, which proves con- 
clusively that "j?e" cannot be a relative particle: "in J?aere 
cirican seo cwen gewunade hire gebiddan, }>e we aer cwaedon 
faet heo Christen waere" (ib., p. 62, 5-6) "The queen usually 
prayed in the church, who, we have already said, was a Christ- 
ian," literally: "In the church prayed the queen, that one, 
we have already said that she was a Christian." The two 
forms are quite different altho they are both asyndetic. In 
the first form the proposition after " J?e " is a parenthetical in- 
sertion and thus separates the parts of the sentence, while 
in the second form "we aer cwaedon J?aet heo Christen waere" 
is as a whole an asyndetic relative clause to which the pre- 
ceding "J?e" points. Within this asyndetic clause "]?aet heo 
Christen waere" frs an object clause, object of the verb 
' ' cwaedon. ' ' These two forms remain intact in Middle English : 
(first form) : "I am he that thou knowe that dyd doo destroy e 
Rome" (Caxton's "Charles the Grete," 52.30) "I am he 
who, you know, caused Rome to be destroyed," literally: "I 
am he, that one, you know that, [he] caused Rome to be de- 
stroyed. (Second form) "Her sorrowe that she contynually 
made for her right dere frende blonchardyn, that for the loue 
of her she trowed that he had other be lost or ded" (id., 
"Blanchardyn," 120.11) "the sorrow which she continually 
felt for her very dear friend Blanchardyn, who, she believed, 
for the love of her had either been lost or was dead," liter- 
ally: "the sorrow which she felt for Blanchardyn, that one, 



380 Curme 

for the love of her she believed that he had either been lost 
or was dead." In the second form the "that" introducing the 
object clause can usually be omitted: "They know that he 
is rich, " or " They know he is rich. ' ' By glancing at the mod- 
ern free rendering of these two forms it will become evident 
that the modern form is a blending of the two older forms. 
As in the second form it drops the "that" before the last 
clause, but otherwise it has the construction of the first form. 
The clause after the relative is a parenthetical insertion. The 
word after the antecedent, formerly "that," now more com- 
monly "who" for persons and "which" for things, is now 
felt as a relative pronoun which is the subject or object of the 
verb in the last proposition. The construction has become 
hypotactic. This development seems perfectly clear to the 
writer, but two well-known scholars have given quite differ- 
ent explanations, Leon Kellner in his Historical Outlines," 
pp. 69-70 and Alois Pogatscher in "Anglia" XXIII, pp. 
290-3. Earlier in the period the nominative of the relative 
clause was sometimes replaced by an accusative as it was felt 
as the object of the following verb: "Of Arthur whom they 
say is kill'd tonight" (Shakspere's "King John," IV, 2.165). 
Mr. Kellner follows this usage in his "Historical Outlines" 
p. 70, where he translates the first sentence from Caxton 
quoted above: "whom thou knowest did cause to be de- 
stroyed." The writer feels that this usage is now dead. The 
hypotactic form as used today is a model of simplicity and 
compactness compared with the older asyndetic type. 

From a comparison of the modern and the older form of 
the examples given in the last two paragraphs it becomes 
quite evident that the real difference between modern Eng- 
lish and the language of the older periods is that older English 
is asyndetic and modern English hypotactic. The hypotactic 
type was the prevailing form of the language after the close 
of the fifteenth century, but as we have seen above it had ap- 
peared long before that time and was slowly but surely gain- 
ing ground. G. 0. CURME. 
Northwestern University. 






Olaf Liljekrans and Ibsen's Later Works 381 



OLAF LILJEKRANS AND IBSEN'S LATER WORKS 

In a previous article of this Journal (Vol. IX, No. 1, 1910) 
the writer attempted to point out the essential relation of 
Henrik Ibsen's Paa Vidderne (1859) to his famous dramatic 
poem, Peer Gynt (1867.) In both of these works the influence 
of Romanticism is still apparent in the fantastic and imagina- 
tive setting, in the highly colored poetic thought and in the 
use of verse form instead of prose. Peer Gynt is perhaps 
the greatest work of art in Scandinavian literature and there- 
fore in itself well worth a close and appreciative study. But 
from the view-point of the author's literary development it 
is by all means the most important of Ibsen's works, since it 
not only contains the germs of philosophic thought which are 
later developed in the great social dramas that follow but in 
that it also breathes the life and tradition of ballad folk-lore 
poetry upon which the literary ideals of the author had been 
based during the early period of his life. The transition from 
the Romantic ballad poetry to the philosophic themes which 
constitute the modern problem play or rather the fusion of 
these two literary ideals is nowhere more marked or more 
skillfully effected than in Peer Gynt. The problem of self- 
realization ('at vaere sig selv'), the satirical attacks upon the 
self-sufficiency of the Norwegian people, the general hostile 
tone assumed towards the half-heartedness, the deceit and 
selfishness of human character, the glorification of woman's 
fidelity and self-sacrifice ; in short, the whole inner significance 
of the work is essentially a prelude to the great storm which 
was to follow in that long series of attacks upon human insti- 
tutions, political and social, which have inseparably con- 
nected the name of Henrik Ibsen with the modern problem 
play. The imaginative and poetic form, on the other hand, in 
which the author moulds this thought, belongs to the earlier 
period in his life in which folk-lore and ballad, Welhaven 
and Oehlenschlager left their trace of Romantic idealism. 

It is to this period that we must turn our attention if we 
are to arrive at a true appreciation of the fundamental form 
and nature of this work, for Peer Gynt was conceived in the 



382 Sturtevant 

spirit of Romantic thought and is essentially a product of 
Romantic ideals. The exquisite poetry clad in the garb of 
Norwegian folk-lore, so fanciful and so artistic, is the per- 
fection of a literary art which the author had previously prac- 
tised with perhaps less skillful hands in his early Romantic 
dramas. His use of Asbj0rnsen's and Moe's, 'Norske Folke- 
eventyr' (1842), and Asbj0rnsen's, 'Norske Huldreeventyr 
og Folkesagn' (1845), to form the legendary basis of his 
story show the Romantic conception with which he started. 
Scandinavian folk-lore forms the basis of his early Romantic 
productions and it is folk-lore which is likewise the basis of 
Peer Gynt. Folk-lore in Peer Gynt, the diffuse imagery of 
mountain scenery and the imaginative setting in which the 
poetic thought of Paa Vidderne is framed, are the expression 
of the same tendency that the author showed when he wrote 
his first dramas, Kjampeh0jen (1850), Sankt Hans Natten 
(1852), Gildet paa Solhaug (1855) and Olaf Liljekrand 
(1856). So filled was the author at this time with the spirit 
of folk ballad-poetry that he affirmed in an article upon this 
subject ('Om kjaBmpevisen og dens betydning for kunstpoe- 
sien' in the Illustreret Nyhedsblad, 1857), immediately after 
the publication of Olaf Liljekrans, that of all types of litera- 
ture the heroic ballad was the most suitable for dramatic pur- 
poses. While under the influence of this conviction and in- 
spired with the aesthetic ideals of this phase of the Romantic 
movement in the North, Ibsen attained to the height of his 
poetic art. After the publication of Peer Gynt, Georg Brandes 
remarked that the poet's Pegasus had been shot from beneath 
him. With the extinction of Romantic ideals poetic inspira- 
tion seems to have forsaken Ibsen, and in its place grew up 
that perfect and exact sense of truth in life w r hich he ex- 
pressed in his prose dramas, unexcelled in their mechanical 
structure. 

If Peer Gynt is the last product of Ibsen's purely poetic 
genius, it is of great importance to trace the relation of the 
Romantic elements in this poem to his early works when the 
spirit of this movement was his chief inspiration. There is 
much in both Peer Gynt and Paa Vidderne that had its incep- 
tion long before. One of the most important of Ibsen's early 



Olaf Liljekrans and Ibsen's Later Works 383 

productions, which has a more or less direct bearing upon 
certain fundamental conceptions in these two works, is Olaf 
Liljekrans. 

Little heretofore has been known about this drama, inas- 
much as it was not published until 1902, existing previous to 
this date in only two manuscript copies: one, in the library 
of the Bergen Theater until sometime during the eighties but 
subsequently transferred to the author's private property, 
and the other, in the library of the University of Christiania. 
But in the year 1902 the drama was given to the public in a 
' Supplementsbind ' of Ibsen 's ' Samlede Vaerker, ' provided 
with excellent biographical notes by Halvdan Koht (for bib- 
liography of Olaf Liljekrans, see pp. V-V1). This drama 
was the outgrowth of a previous work, likewise founded upon 
Norwegian folk-lore: namely, Rypen i Justedal, nationalt 
Skuespil i fire Acter af Brynjolf Bjarme (Ibsen's early 
pseudonym), 1850. Rypen i Justedal was founded upon a 
similar story called Justedalsrypen, which was contained in A. 
Faye's collection of folk-lore tales (A. Faye. Norske Folkesagn. 
2nd Edition. Chra. 1844. p. 129), the first version of which 
is now in the library of the University of Christiania. Only 
two acts of Rypen i Justedel were ever completed. 1 The 
piece remained untouched for several years until the author's 
enthusiastic study of M. B. Landstad's collection of Nor- 
wegian folk-ballads (Norske Folkeviser. 1852-53), directed 
his attention again to the subject. Discarding the previous 
title the author now worked his material over into a new 
form under the influence of the heroic ballad, Olaf Liljekrans 
(Landstad. 1853). Olaf Liljekrans ('A Romantic Drama in 
Three Acts') was finished in 1856 and acted in Bergen, Jan. 
2 and 4, 1857, but with only mediocre success. The play was 
met with sharp criticism from many quarters and was per- 
formed only these two times. Nor did Ibsen, himself, seem to 
be entirely satisfied with it. After he left Bergen in the 

1 Fortunately this interesting and important fragment is now avail- 
able to students of Ibsen literature through the publication of the 
author's 'Posthumous Works' (Efterladte Skrifter. udgivne av Halvdan 
Koht og Julias Elias. Chr. og Kj0benhavn. 1909. p. 339 ff). The study 
of Ibsen is also materially furthered by the illuminating introduction 
which furnishes many heretofore unknown facts. 



384 Sturtevant 

summer of 1857 and had taken up his residence in Christiania, 
he renewed his work upon it in 1859, with a view towards 
working it over into an opera, entitled Fjeldfuglen. But he 
never finished more than the first act (Efterladte Skrifter. p. 
433 ft 3 .), now preserved in the library of the University of 
Christiania. In a letter of July 18, 1861, he asked the com- 
poser M. A. Udbye of Trondhjem to write the music for his 
new opera, but soon afterwards, in 1862, expressed his con- 
viction that the drama itself was not a suitable theme for 
operatic treatment. He then laid the work aside for all time, 
to enter into a new sphere of literary ideals inspired by the 
Old Norse sagas which had marked the dramas of Oehlen- 
schlager and his school. It was this new literary ideal dawn- 
ing upon the poet's consciousness, which rendered him pow- 
erless to complete the old as he had conceived it before the 
Romantic ballad poetry had begun to give way to the Saga 
literature. In Olaf Liljekrans Romanticism had reached its 
high-water mark and already begun to recede. Prose and 
poetry struggle for the upper hand. Alfhild and Olaf sing 
now in the wild tones of the Norse ballad, children of phan- 
tasy, feeling and nature, and now reason with the conscious- 
ness of purely rational beings, seeking a satisfactory solution 
of a life's problem. The vital sentiment of this work fore- 
shadows the gigantic struggles for self-mastery which charac- 
terized Ibsen's subsequent works, while the ballad form and 
Romantic setting reflect the coloring of an already decadent 
period in his literary ideals. Olaf Liljekrans marks, in Ib- 
sen's literary career, the wane of ballad poetry which had its 
beginning in Sankt Hans Natten (1852), the most phantas- 
magoric of all his works. Yet even in Sankt Hans Natten the 
marked similarity in the phantastic, hob-goblin spirit with the 
ballad tone in Peer Gynt cannot be denied. In fact, it has 
been pointed out (Fredrik Paasche. Smaaskrifter fra det lit- 
teratur-historiske seminar. V. Gildet paa Solhaug. Chra. 
1908) that the second ballad in Sankt Hans Natten (Efter- 
ladte Skrifter. p. 409 ff.) is 'very probably' the source of 
Solve jg's song in Peer Gynt: 'Kanske vil der gaa baade vinter 
og vaar.' In Olaf Liljekrans we have still more that is later 
reflected in both Peer Gynt (cf. Georg Brandes. Henrik Ib- 



Olaf Liljekrans and Ibsen's Later Works 385 

sen. Kj0b. 1898. pp. 126-133 )/ and Paa Vidderne. The great 
struggle for self-realisation that involves self-annihilation 
from which alone perfect love can be attained, the longing for 
the heights far above the common life of prosaic toil and 
trouble where the spirit of nature and the love of God exalt 
the soul into a new and ideal existence, these fundamental 
concepts of Paa Vidderne and Peer Gynt are traceable also 
in Olaf Liljekrans, though to a much less marked degree. 
These elements which are essential to the redemption of the 
human soul form the rudimentary basis of that psychological 
thought which afterwards developed to gigantic proportions 
in the author's social dramas. On the other hand, the phan- 
tastic and dreamy spirit of the 'gallant' Peer, the perfect 
child of God and nature which we meet in Solvejg reflect the 
spirit of early Romantic idealism which received a far more 
extravagant expression in the characters of Olaf and Alfhild. 
Let us consider in detail those elements which Peer Gynt, 
Paa Vidderne and Olaf Liljekrans have in common. First, 
the feeling of limitation and the desire to attain to a new and 
ideal existence upon the heights is an unmistakable motif run- 
ning throughout all three works, especially strong in Paa 
Vidderne and Olaf Liljekrans. In Paa Vidderne the main 
theme is founded upon this sentiment, in Olaf Liljekrans it 
is a mere incident lending the quality of moral character to a 
Romantic conception, while in Peer Gynt it receives attention 
only at certain moments of profound moral conviction. The 
relation of Peer Gynt to Paa Vidderne in connection with this 
symbol has been discussed in a previous article (Journal. IX. 
No. 1. 1910. Ibsen's Peer Gynt and Paa Vidderne), but will 
here be somewhat extended in view of the new light which 
Olaf Liljekrans has shed upon this question. In Olaf Liljekrans 
both Olaf and Alfhild feel intensely the limitations of their 
former existence when the magic charm of love had not yet 
captivated their hearts. In the ballad Olaf Liljekrans, (Land- 
stad p. 355) Olaf meets a band of elf- women upon the moun- 
tains who are determined to give him a love-potion that he 

1 Georg Brandes here compares the general atmosphere and form of 
Olaf Liljekrans with that of Peer Gynt, and cites a passage in Act IV, 
Sc. 2 of Olaf Liljekrans, which bears resemblance to the general tone of 
satirical allusions in the Dovregubben scenes in Peer Gynt. 



386 

may forsake his betrothed, but he rejects their seductions 
with heroic fidelity. Thereupon the elves determine he must 
die. In Ibsen's drama, Olaf, who is betrothed, wanders away 
from his home and meets upon the mountains a beautiful elf- 
maiden with whom he^alls desperately in love. This beauti- 
ful child of the mountains is so artless and charming that 
Olaf is completely bewildered by her loveliness. His whole 
soul is as completely charmed as if he actually had drunk the 
fatal love-potion. Child of nature, intensely human yet with 
that wild, unrestrained spirit of the elf, Alfhild transports 
him into a new world of physical and spiritual emotion which 
leaves his former love in complete oblivion. Both now realize 
the dreams which had come to them long before they met. Olaf 
recognizes in Alfhild the flower which, according to his dream, 
should symbolize perfect happiness and Alfhild in Olaf real- 
izes 'the gallant knight, with the falcon upon his arm' who 
was to come and bear her away as his bride. They meet in a 
secret valley on the other side of the mountains far up beyond 
Olaf's home and hidden from the eyes of the whole world 
below. After the realisation of their love, the valley below 
becomes too narrow and oppressive for further existence. 
Their new life becomes synonymous with the higher valley 
among the mountains while their former existence, devoid of 
the great revelation of love, is associated with the narrow con- 
fines of the valley in the plains below. When Olaf returns 
from his meeting with Alfhild he is accosted by Hemming, 
the servant of his betrothed, to whom he relates his wonderful 
experience with the elf -child upon the mountains (Act I. Sc. 
8). He first tells of the mystical dream in which the flower 
of love was promised him by the elf -women. 'From that mo- 
ment on,' he says, 'my mother's room became too narrow 
for me. Over stone and ridge to that fair grove I sped ever up 
with bow and arrow ! There I found my elf-maiden. ' Alfhild 
too has felt the stifling narrowness of her former home before 
'the gallant knight' came to make her his bride. In the con- 
fession of her love to Olaf, she says (Act I. Sc. 10) ; 'then the 
valley seemed too narrow for me to live in,' and when Olaf 
leaves her to visit his mother's home again, she bids farewell 
to her native valley for it is too narrow for her new life with 



Olaf Liljekrans and Ibsen's Later Works 387 

Olaf ; she must follow him to joy and happiness in the great 
world beyond. Both Olaf and Alfhild use the same metaphor 
in connection with the limitations of their former existence. 

Olaf. Act I. Sc. 8. Fra denne stund det blev for trangt i 
min moders stue ! 

Afhild. Act I. Sc. 10. Dalen blev mig for trang. 

Alfhild. Act I. Sc. 14. Farvel, min dal, du est mig for 
trang, mig vinker alverdens jubel og sang. 

In Act I. Sc. 10, Alfhild gives most beautiful expression to 
the intense loneliness and the yearning for a new life which 
she felt before the dream of love had been realized. She com- 
pares her former life to a lonely birch-tree on the steep moun- 
tain side where the barren soil yields but little life. ' High up 
upon the mountain is a slope so steep that not even the eagle 
can fasten his claws upon it; there stands a lonely birch-tree, 
ill it thrives and poor in leaves it is ; but it bends its branches 
down towards the valley that lies far beyond; 'tis as if it 
longed to join its sisters in the fresh, fertile grove, as if it 
yearned to be planted in the sun-lit life far below . As the 
birch on the mountain so was my life, I longed for the world 
beyond, for thee I longed many a weary hour, ere I knew 
that thou didst live. Then the valley seemed too close and 
narrow' etc. Fredrik Paasche ( Smaaskrif ter fra det lit- 
teraturhistoriske seminar. V. p. 89. Chra. 1908) sees in this 
longing for a new life of larger experience and realisation a 
Romantic motif which Ibsen uses after his journey through 
Germany in 1852, and points out the fact that it is always 
the young women who experience this emotion; Blanka in 
Kcempeh0jen (of 1854), Eline in Fru Inger til Ostraat, Margit 
in Gildet paa Solhaug and Alfhild in Olaf Liljekrans. 'All 
long for the larger life of the world beyond but none so fer- 
vently as Alfhild in Olaf Liljekrans.' This sentiment is, to 
be sure, an expression of Romantic vision upon life but is by 
no means essentially a Romantic conception. It is rather a 
part of the Norwegian temperament enhanced by the limita- 
tions of Norwegian life, physical and social. Fredrik Paasche 
might have added to this category the name of Martha Ber- 
nick in Samfundets St0tter (1877) who, caged within the nar- 
rows limits of her small circle of life, longs for the release of 



388 Sturtevant 

her imprisoned soul over the wild sea. Bj0rnson, too, has given 
literary expression to this intense feeling of limitation which 
Norway naturally imposes upon her sons in his beautiful 
lyric poem, Over De H0ie Fjelde. Arne's heart-breaking cry 
of an imprisoned soul, his enjoyment of the birds which take 
their winged flight to lands unknown, is the artistic expression 
of this suffocating feeling which the natural barriers of Norway 
inspire. Here the natural limitations of Norwegian life are 
emphasized, in Samfundets St0tter the limitations of social 
conditions imprison the soul. In both there is that groping 
after something better which will release the victim from its 
surroundings and afford it a life in which its own individual- 
ity may be realized. Such a motif is, therefore, not essentially 
Romantic but rather an expression of the spirit of Norwegian 
life which in the author's early works found expression ac- 
cording to Romantic ideals and colored with the variegated 
hues of a Romantic vision. 

In Olaf Liljekrans the release from mere prosaic existence 
into the new life of perfect love is, as is self-realisation in Paa 
Vidderne, an exaltation which is contrasted with the lower 
life in the valley. After this wonderful revelation Olaf tells 
Alfhild (Act I. Sc. 10) : 'No longer could I thrive down there 
below; I felt compelled to rise to the new valley above, before 
I could find peace.' 

men dernede kunde jeg ikke trives mere; 

Til dalen matte jeg op, f0r var dar ikke fred for mig. 

even as the hero of Paa Vidderne says : 

Dagens dad bar intet maerke, 
slig son den dernede drives; 
her blev mine tanker staeke, 
kun pd vidden kan jeg trives. 

Furthermore, the heights, as symbolical of moral purifica- 
tion, which is the distinctive mark of life's victory in Paa 
Vidderne, appear likewise in Olaf Liljekrans as the symbol 
of renewed strength and a higher courage. To live above 
the sorrows of life is the exalted mission of every great soul ; 
a moral victory which character alone can acquire. In Olaf 
Liljekrans the time comes when the hero realizes that the 
happiness which he has been seeking can be attained only 



Olaf Liljekrans and Ibsen's Later Works 389 

through the sacrifice of all worldly considerations. Through 
this conviction he experiences a clearness of spiritual vision 
which he has never known before, for he now realizes that 
he must first conquer himself before he win back the price- 
less treasure of love which he has so ruthlessly forfeited. 
Through moral weakness he has rejected Alfhild and trodden 
her love under foot. Alfhild, in revenge, has set fire to the 
church during the wedding ceremony which was to have united 
Olaf to his former betrothed. Olaf escapes with his life but 
is entirely broken in spirit, for he is overcome with remorse 
for his faithlessness. He has forfeited his love, and thus 
wrecked his life's happiness. In deep despair he hastens 
back to that valley upon the mountains where his first dream 
of love had been realized. There he feels that exaltation which 
gives him the hero's courage to win the battle of life, just as 
does the hero in Paa Vidderne. He can hardly explain this 
mysterious inspiration which fills his heart with new blood and 
imparts a new life to his whole being. He says (Act III. 
Sc. I) : 'strange it is that when I come here, high up above 
the village, it seems as if there were a new air playing about 
me, as if fresher blood coursed thro' my veins, as if I had 
received another spirit, and thought with another mind.' 
Even so does the hero of Paa Vidderne express the exaltation 
which he experiences upon the high mountains: 'winter life 
on the wild mountain plains steels my weakened thoughts, 
here no sentimental song of birds beats through the blood. ' 

Alfhild too experiences the same feeling upon the heights 
but with her they represent more nearly that spirit of self- 
mastery which marks Paa Vidderne. When she realizes 
that her ideal life has been shattered, that her fair dream of 
'the knight with the falcon upon his arm' will never be real- 
ized, she feels impelled to seek the mountain heights that her 
soul may harden and she may forget the tender memories of 
the past. Up amid the snow and ice of the bleak mountain- 
tops, just as the hero of Paa Vidderne, she thinks to attain 
that grand mastery over self which Brand, the priest, glori- 
fies in his single-handed battle with the spirit of compromise. 
She says, (Act III. Sc. 7) : 'Down here I see Olaf, wherever 



390 Sturtevant 

I go, I must away high up on the heights, that my heart may 
harden ! I must forget and deaden this grief, I must hush to 
sleep all these tender memories ! Up then, up 'mid the snow 
and ice, for whether here or there my only refuge is the 

grave. ' 

Hernede ser jeg Olaf, hvorhelst jeg faerdes; 
jeg md op i h0jden, at mit sind kan hcerdes! 
jeg ma d0ve og glemme den tunge laere, 
ma dysse i blund alle minder kaere ! 



Velen da! Op mellem is og sne, 
bade her og hist er kun gravens lae ! 

Paa Vidderne is Ibsen's first poetic expression of the phil- 
osophic concept of self-realisation as a life principle, but in 
Olaf Liljekrans we catch the outlines which form the inception 
of this idea and its connection with the poet's symbol of the 
mountain heights. In "Peer Gynt" the general concept of 
life upon the heights as a symbol of a higher life appears in 
the last act. In the sermon over the body of the boy who 
avoided his duty to the state, in order 'to be himself within 
the narrow circle of his own modest life, we hear that he took 
refuge upon the mountain heights. There above the conflict- 
ing interests of the life in the valley below, he completed the 
circle of his individual existence. He was a criminal in the 
eyes of the state, but he lived in accordance with a higher law ; 
an unwritten law whose sacred dictate is the complete develop- 
ment of self through the sacrifice of all selfish interests. This 
is exactly what Peer Gynt did not do because he never lost 
sight of self. This higher law Ibsen compares to a row of 
clouds looming far up above the white capped peaks of the 
Glittertind. Act V. Sc. 3. 

En brostling imod landets lov? ja vel! 

Men der er et, som lyser over loven, 

sa visst, som Glittertindens blanke tjeld 

har sky med h0jre tinder ad for oven. 

' Such a man will hardly stand a cripple before his God. ' II 
When Peer Gynt has finally lost all hope of salvation, his first 
thought is to find comfort in a farewell visit to the highest 
mountain peak where he may once more see the sun rise 
and look upon the promised land, a mystic vision of a new life. 



Olaf Liljekrans and Ibsen's Later Works 391 

Ibsen still keeps the heights as the general symbol of an exalted 
and better life. 

Act. V. Sc. 10 

Jeg vil opad, h0jt, pd den bratteste tinde; 
jig vil endnu en gang se solen rinde, 
stirre mig trae pa det lovede land, 
se at fa dyngen over mig kavet; 
de kan skrive der over: "her er ingen begravet"; 
og bagefter, siden ! lad det ga, som det kan. 

Here in the very last scenes of "Peer Gynt" the inner signi- 
ficance of the mountain heights appears like the last ray of 
light before the eternal darkness. These words of despair 
are in direct contrast to those uttered by the hero of Paa 
Vidderne, when his life's crisis has come. Peer Gynt's life 
has been a failure; therefore, the last visit to the mountain 
heights is the beginning of the end. One more breath of 
the mountain air, one more sight of the promised land and 
then he must meet the fate of all men who have lived accord- 
ing to the dictates of selfish interests. He must die and die a 
most ignoble and disgraceful death. Not so with the hero 
of Paa Vidderne, he is not to die, for he has won the crown of 
life. He has lived according to the highest dictates of self: 
'at vosere sig selv, er, sig selv at d0de' (Peer Gynt. Act V. 
Sc. 9). He has something better than self (i. e. selfish inter- 
ests) to live for, and as he stands there upon the mountain 
peak we hear the poet Ibsen giving the most powerful expres- 
sion to his own doctrine of life, when he says : ' Now I am as 
firm as steel, I shall follow the voice that bids me wander 
upon the heights. My life in the low-lands I have outlived, 
up here on the mountain plains there is freedom and God; 
down there below, the others are still fumbling about in the 
darkness. ' 

Ibsen never lost sight of this exalted doctrine of life nor 
the symbol of the heights as its poetic expression. In his 
very last work, "Nar Vi D0de Vdgner," (1899) this same 
conception still appears. Here the heights again symbolize 
the attainment of life's goal, which Professor Rubeck, the 
famous sculptor, has missed through a defective sense of the 
divine relation of his intellectual and artistic nature to the 



392 Sturtevant 

demands of spiritual love. But now the day of revelation has 
come. Irene, his famous model, through whom he was en- 
abled to produce his masterpiece, holds the key which can un- 
lock the mystic secrets of his heart and give him back the 
treasure of love which in his overweening ambition he had 
forfeited. He had promised her, before their separation, to 
take her up to the highest mountain peak and from its majes- 
tic height show her the glory of the whole world. But in 
this he had deceived her, for the real glory of life which Irene 
was to realize in his love he had confused with the perfection 
of his own art. They now propose to reach that high moun- 
tain peak which neither had seen before. At the time of 
their meeting, Prof. Rubeck is upon a journey along the 
coast of Norway. Irene proposes instead that he journey with 
her 'high up among the mountains, as high up as they can 
climb, higher and still higher.' 

Act. I. 
Irene. 

Rejs heller h0jt op mellem f jeldene. Sa h0jt op du kan 
komme. H0jere, h0jere, altid h0jere Arnold. 
The real significance of her words cannot be mistaken. To- 
gether they start out to spend the night upon the high moun- 
tain-plain. Through fog and storm, oblivious to all the warn- 
ings of the approaching avalanche, they climb up the moun- 
tain side. Irene sees the light of happiness beyond and urges 
her companion to ever greater heights. She will reach the 
very highest peak, that magic peak, where the glory of life 
will be revealed. 

Act III. 
Irene. 

Nej, nej op i lyset og i al den glittrende herlighed. 
Op til forj0ttelsens tinde. 

Prof. Rubeck. 

Der oppe vil vi fejre vor bryllupsfest, Irene, du min 
elskede ! 



Olaf Liljekrans and Ibsen's Later Works 393 

Irene. 

Ja, gennem alle tagerne. Og sa belt op til tarnets tinde, 
som lyser i solopgangen. 

Thus the highest mountain peak symbolizes the highest and 
best in life which both attempt to reach in vain, for past op- 
portunities cannot be made good when the psychological 
moment of fulfillment has passed even though the bitterness 
of remorse urges the soul on to unwonted efforts. 

The love of nature is one of the most marked characteristics 
of the Romantic movement and one which is given most beau- 
tiful expression in Olaf Liljekrans. Alfhild, herself, is a 
child of nature, isolated from intercourse with human society. 
Her friends are the trees and the flowers, the birds and the 
sunshine, and she worships unconsciously the God who has 
wrought all these beauties of the natural world. Such a charm 
does she exert upon Olaf that he is divested of his former self 
and becomes like her, half human and half elf, a child of na- 
ture. When, after the magic sojourn with Alfhild, he en- 
counters Hemming on his way home, Olaf cannot remember 
where his mother's home is. His home is with Alfhild upon 
the mountains for the elf-charm is still upon him. He says 
(Act I. Sc. 8) : 'My mother's house! Where is it? Here in 
the woods, me thinks, is my home and not in my parents' 
house; better can I understand the sighing of the tree-tops 
and the brook's ripple, than my mother's voice. Ah, how 
beautiful, how quiet it is here ! Behold, my palace is adorned 
for a royal feast.' So too in Peer Gynt, Solveig loves the 
woods and the beauties of nature. When she joins Peer Gynt 
upon the mountains (Act III. Sc. 3) she feels at home among 
the trees and expresses to Peer Gynt the assurance, just as 
Olaf does to Hemming in Olaf Liljekrans, that her real home 
is no longer with her parents but amid the sighing fir-trees and 
the song of the winds. The phraseology of both passages in 
Peer Gynt and Olaf Liljekrans is very similar. 
Olaf Liljekrans. 
Act I. Sc. 8. 

Min moders grd! Hvor er det den st,r? 

Her tykkes det mig, jeg bar hjemme! 

Skoven er bleven mit fcedrenhus, 

grantoppens kvceder og elvens sus 



394 Sturtevant 

kan jeg bedrre forsta, end min moders stemme. 
Ej sandt, her er fagert! Ej sandt, her er stille! 
Ser du, min h0jsal er smykket til gilde. 

Peer Gynt. 
Act. III. Sc. 3. 
Solvejg. 

Ringt eller gildt, her er efter mit sind. 

Sa let kan en puste mod den strygende vind. 



Men her, hvor en htfrer furuen suse, 
for en stilhed og sang! her er jeg tilhuse. 

More striking still is the resemblance of Peer Gynt 's dream, 
in which he fancies himself as emperor riding upon a magni- 
ficent steed and greeted by a throng of ardent admirers, with 
the dream which Olaf has of his future wedding with Alfhild. 
Nothing is more characteristic of Peer than this dream. Child 
of fancy, his whole life is built upon dreams. Folk-lore, 
trolls, dreams of fantastic imagination are a reality to him. 
Such is the very nature of Romantic poetry and such is also 
the spirit and coloring which pervades Olaf Liljekrans. Both 
Peer and Olaf are under the magic spell of fantasy. Peer's 
very nature is rooted in dreams and he is as completely fas- 
cinated by their charms as is the bewildered Olaf who has 
come under the spell of the elf-maiden's love. In fact, when 
we compare these two dreams in which both Peer and Olaf 
picture the realisation of their life's greatest happiness, Peer 
has ambition to be emporer of the world and Olaf to be united 
in love with Alfhild, the resemblance in thought and phrase- 
ology is so close that the writer is prone to believe that Ibsen 
must have still retained in Peer Gynt the general poetic im- 
pression which he had when he wrote this passage in question 
in Olaf Liljekrans. When Olaf, (Act. I. Sc. 12.), hears the 
voices in the distance which bid him return to his mother's 
home he cannot immediately sever himself from that magic 
world of delicious phantasy which has so completely en- 
thralled him. The danger of disillusion heightens the passion 
of his fevered imagination and transports his whole soul in a 
love-dream. He sees the bridal procession approaching; 
' knights and ladies are riding up to bring home his bride who 



Olaf Liljekrans and Ibsen's Later Works 395 

is seated upon his swiftest steed with golden saddle, a mighty 
retinue follows, courtly swains lead his steed by the bridle, fair 
flowers are strewn by the way-side, the peasant bows down in 
honor of his bride, and the peasant's wife by the gate court- 
esies, the church-bells ring out over the whole land; for now 
Olaf Liljekrans is coming home with his bride.' So too Peer 
dreams (Act I. Sc. 2), as he lies watching the clouds above, 
that 'he is mounted upon a steed adorned with silver and 
gold, a magnificent retinue follows, the people stand along the 
way and lift their hats in token of recognition, the women 
courtesy, all recognize the Emperor, Peer Gynt, with his 
thousand swains, money is scattered for the people along the 
way-side, England's emporer rises from his festive board, 
lays aside his crown and says ', Here Peer is rudely 
awakened from his dreams by Aslak, the smith, who believes 
Peer to be lying there in a drunken stupor. But we may 
infer that if Peer had been allowed to continue his dream 
he would have heard the English sovereign say; 'Hail to 
thee, Peer Gynt, Emperor of the world,' just as Olaf Lilje- 
krans hears the mighty throng of people greet him with his 
bride as he returns to his native home. Peer Gynt's dream 
is very little altered from that of Olaf. With Olaf it is a 
bridal procession, with Peer Gynt a triumphant procession 
of an omnipotent sovereign; therefore flowers are strewn for 
Olaf, while the emperor's generosity and magnanimity are 
symbolized by a deluge of silver and gold which rain down 
upon the bewildered inhabitants like manna in the wilderness. 
A comparison of the two passages shows the identity of con- 
ception which underlies the youthful fantasy of the two 
characters. 

Olaf Liljekrans 
Act I. Sc. 12 

Guldsadlen skal laegges pa min rappeste ganger, 
forrest i laget skal ga spillemand og sanger, 
derefter skal ride k0gemester og prest, 
alt folket i bygden skal bydes til gsest! 
H0viske svende skal lede din ganger ved hand, 
liflige urter skal drysses pd alle veje, 
bonden skal b0je sig for dig som en vand, 
og ved ledet skal hans kvinde neje! 



396 Sturtevant 

kirkeklokkerne skal ringe over landet ud: 
nu rider Olaf Liljekrans hjem med sin brud. 

Peer Gynt. 
Act 1. Sc. 2. 

Peer Gynt rider f0rst, og der f01ger hammange. 
Hesten har s0lvtop og guldsko fire. 
Selv har ban handsker og sabel og slire. 
Kaben er sid og med silke foret. 
Gilde er de, som han f0lger i sporet. 
Ingen dog sidder sa stout p folen. 
Ingen dog glittrer som han imod solen. 
Nede star folk i klynger langs gaerdet, 
I0fter pd hatten og glaner ivejret. 
Kvinderne neje sig. Alle kan kende 
kejser Peer Gynt og hans tusende svende. 
Tolvskillingstykker og blanke marker 
ned han som sm&sten pa vejen sparker. 
Rige som grever blir alle i bygden. 
Peer Gynt rider tvers over havet i h0jden. 
Engellands prins star pa stranden og venter. 
Det samme g0r alle Engellands j enter. 
Engellands stormaend og Engellands kejser, 
der Peer rider frem, sig fra h0jbordet rejser. 
Kejseren letter p, kronen og siger ! 

In Alfhild we have a strange mixture of the innocent, 
thoughtless child and the noble qualities of mature woman- 
hood. Romanticism and the realities of life are here in the 
character of Alfhild struggling for supremacy. As prose 
and poetry so imagination and reality are in constant con- 
flict. Ibsen never was a pure Romanticist and in Olaf Lilje- 
krans the realistic view upon life asserts itself in spite of 
the highly colored Romantic setting. There is a quality of 
heroism in Alfhild 's character which is strangely contrasted 
with her otherwise childish nature. Her self-sacrifice and 
fidelity unto death foreshadow the long list of noble women 
whom Ibsen portrays in his later works. Of these none is so 
pathetic and affecting as the character of Solvejg in Peer 
Gynt. Alfhild and Solvejg are productions of the same spir- 
itual ideal of woman, which was the most graceful of Ibsen's 
literary achievements. Both characters are inspired with the 
spirit of ideal love and devotion upon which are based the 
motives for all their actions. Alfhild has sacrificed her home 



Olaf Liljekrans and Ibsen's Later Works 397 

and all that was dear to her to follow Olaf, for her heart, as 
she says, 'was full of God's love,' (Act II, Sc. II). So strong 
is this love that it has become a part of her nature as indis- 
pensable to her life as the soil to the grass. She can not pluck 
it out even though she would, for it has grown about her 
heart as the bark to the tree. When Lady Kirsten (Act III. 
Sc. 8) accuses her of having exercised the powers of witch- 
craft upon Olaf and caused him to disappear from the world 
Alfhild does not deny the charge, for Olaf is hidden forever 
within her own heart from which she is powerless to release 
him. Even though the penalty of death confronts her, she 
cannot give Olaf back. This beautiful symbol of God's love 
which locks the spirit of Olaf forever within her heart is the 
Romantic expression of woman's ideal fidelity which appears 
so often in Ibsen's subsequent works and one is here, in con- 
nection with the Romantic setting of folk lore, involuntarily 
reminded of the Middle High German folk song ; 

Du bist min, ich bin din: 
des solt du gewis sin. 
Du bist beslozzen 
in minem herzen, 
verlorn ist daz sliizzelin: 
du muost immer drinne sin. 

The poetic imagery is the same although Ibsen undoubtedly 
never was acquainted with the Middle High German. 

Olaf Liljekrans. 
Act III. Sc. 8. 
Fru Kersten. Sig frem, hvor bar du ham? 

Alfhild. 

(trypper haendene mod brystet) 
Herinde i hjertet! Kan du rive ham ud daraf, 
da hekser du bedre end jeg! 

Solve jg too is filled with 'God's love' and sacrifices all that 
she held dear, her home, brother and sister, to give her life 
to him whom she has chosen as her life's companion. Her 
pathetic confession of this noble sacrifice (Act III. Sc. 3) 
bears a striking resemblance to that of Alfhild in Olaf Lilje- 
krans. 



398 Sturtevant 

Peer Gynt. 
Act III. Sc. 3. 

Solvejg. 

Pa hele Guds vide Jord 
bar jeg ingen at kalde for far eller mor 
Jeg har I0st mig fra alle. 
Peer Gynt. 
Solvejg, du vene, 
for at komme til mig? 

Solvejg. 

Ja, til dig alene; 
du far vaere mig alt, bade ven og tr0ster. 

(i grSd) 

Vaerst var det at slippe min lille syster; 
men endda vaerre at skilles fra far; 
men vaerst ifra den, som ved brystet mig bar; 
nej, Gud forlade mig, vaerst fag jeg kalde 
den sorg at skilles fra dem alle, alle! 

Olaf Liljekrans. 
Act II. Sc. II. 

Alfhild. 

Mit hjem, min fader, alt gav jeg Tien 
for at f01ge Olaf, min hjestensven! 
Han svor mig til, du skal vorde min brud ! 
og jeg Guds kaerlighed var i 
mit hjerte; 

Solvejg too has God's love in her heart where she has en- 
shrined the object of her affections. It is this love which has, 
in spite of Peer's faithlessness, idealized his ignoble character 
and made her own life beautiful. There is in her love that 
quality of Christian charity and forgiveness which consti- 
tutes the ideal Christ-love. When Peer, in the last act of the 
play (Act III. Sc. 3) falls down before her in utter despair, 
he asks her to tell him whither he, as God had conceived him 
and intended him to be, has strayed. Every soul has a certain 
mission in life to perform but Peer has missed his. Can he 
avoid the inevitable fate with which the button-moulder has 
threatened him? Solvejg answers this riddle of existence 
with the calm assurance of one who is gifted with a higher 
spiritual intelligence. Peer cannot perish, for Peer, as God 
meant him to be, has all these long years been in her safe- 
keeping; in her faith, in her hope and in her love. He has 



Olaf Liljekrans and Ibsen's Later Works 399 

been locked within her heart with the magic key of love even 
as Olaf within the elf-maiden's bosom. 

Peer Gynt. 
Act III. Sc. 3. 

Peer Gynt. 
S3, sig, hvad du v6d! 

Hvor var jeg, som mig selv, som den hele, den sande? 
Hvor var jeg, med Guds stempel pa min pande? 

Solvejg. 
I min tro, i mit hab og i min kcerlighed. 

In this connection we are reminded of the last words spoken 
to Brand as he perishes in the approaching avalanche : ' han er 
deus caritatis' 'he is the god of love.' Ibsen himself explained 
in a letter of May 4, 1866 that 'caritas' is here used in the 
sense of heavenly or spiritual love which includes the quality 
of mercy ('barmhjertighed'), in contrast to physical love 
('amor'). This is exactly the same meaning in which the 
word is used in the Latin Vulgate in the celebrated passage 
upon charity, First Epistle to the Corinthians, XIII, 13. 
'And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the 
greatest of these is charity.' The revised translation of the 
Bible has substituted for 'charity' the word 'love,' which, as 
Ibsen suggested, with reference to the phrase 'Deus caritatis,' 
includes within itself a certain quality of mercy or charity. 
It is exactly this quality of human love which was lacking 
in Brand, and therefore prevented him from carrying out 
his divine mission which God had written upon his heart. 
Moral laws, however perfect in themselves, can never be en- 
forced upon the human race without taking into account the 
element of love which is the real basis of all God's laws. Dur- 
ing the composition of Brand, Ibsen was a diligent student of 
the Bible, as he, himself, sail in a letter to Bj0rnson. And in 
Brand's failure it seems possible (as Professor Olsen suggests 
in his excellent edition of Brand, Chicago, 1908 p. 339) to 
point out the very words, which underlie this passage, in the 
First Epistle to the Corinthians: XIII, I: 'though I speak 
with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity 
(i. e. love), I am becoming as sounding brass or a tinkling 
cymbal. ' In Peer Gynt, on the other hand, it is this very love 
which solves the problem of Peer's existence (at least as 



400 Sturtevant 

Solvejg conceived it), without reference to those moral laws 
which Brand would enforce to the letter upon a compromis- 
ing generation. Thus Peer Gynt stands in this respect, as 
well as in regard to the philosophic concept of self-realization, 
as a direct antipode to Brand. But though Ibsen may have 
had this biblical passage in mind when he wrote Brand and 
Peer Gynt, nevertheless the idea of love as the all sustaining 
force in life and the secret of true happiness, existed previous 
to the composition of these two works in Olaf Liljekrans. 
Human love, as essential to man's redemption and ultimate 
happiness is a truth which Ibsen repeatedly emphasized in 
his dramas. In Olaf Liljekrans and Peer Gynt we have a 
Romantic expression of this vital doctrine of life. Both Olaf 
and Peer have been faithless but they still remain untainted 
and idealized in the hearts of these noble women. Therefore, 
though neither Olaf (at the time when Alfhild is confronted 
by Lady Kirsten, Act III, Sc. 8) nor Peer have by any means 
redeemed themselves, they are nevertheless already redeemed 
in thir lovers' affections through the magnanimous forebear- 
ance of spiritual love (caritas). This is exactly the same 
quality of love to which 'deus caritatis' (Brand) seems to re- 
fer, as Ibsen explains the term in his letter of 1866; for God's 
love ('Gud's Kaerlighed') is a spiritual love which is infinite 
in its mercy ('barmhjertighed'). In fact it would seem as if 
Ibsen had merely translated Alfhild 's own words ('Gud's 
Kaerlighed': 'God's love') into Latin phraseology ('deus 
caritatis' 'the God of love') in order to accommodate the 
concept to the ecclesiastical setting in Brand. 

Finally, we are reminded, in connection with Brand, of 
Alfhild 's description of God's church ('Guds hus'), Act II. 
Sc. 4. Alfhild, to whom all human institutions are entirely 
strange, has caught sight of a church and witnessed a religious 
ceremony there. Bewildered by the sight and ignorant of 
the significance of the service she asks Olaf to tell her who lives 
in this strange home. He replies : "all who are good and pious 
as thou art, all who are children in thought and soul. That 
is the church, God's house; it belongs to Him.' In her naive 
conception of religion which embraces the whole natural world 
Alfhild cannot conceive of God's being confined within the 



Olaf Liljekrans and Ibsen's Later Works 401 

narrow walls of a wooden house. The great Father dwells in 
a much larger home, 'as high as the stars overhead where the 
white duck flies, so high that no one can see it except the 
little child in its dreams.' It is this house of God, allembrae- 
ing in its ethical and religious significance, which Brand seeks, 
instead of the temporal structure which has been erected in 
his honor. His is 'livets store kirke' (Act V), 'which has 
neither measure nor end.' 'Its floor is the green earth, the 
mountain-plain, the meadow, sea and fjord: and its roof is 
the canopy of heaven.' 

Brand. 
Act V. 

Kirken bar ej mal og ende. 

Gulvet er den gr0nne jord, 

vidde, vang, og hav og fjord; 

himlen kun kan hvcelet spcende 

over, sa den vorder stor. 

So likewise Alfhild's church: 
Olaf Liljekrans. 

Act II. Sc. 5. 

Den store fader! Ak, skemte du vil! 
Hans hut er jo h0jt over stjernene sm&, 
hvor den hvide skysvane sv0mmer, 
sa h0jt som intet 0je kan na 
uden barnets, der det blunder og dr0mmer. 

It has often been noted that Henrik Ibsen's works form one 
continued chain of poetic and philosophic thought. It is left 
to the student of literature to discover the various links which 
compose this chain. The study of Olaf Liljekrans and Ibsen's 
early dramas has served to draw into closer contact the 
author's famous Realistic works with his earliest poetic ef- 
forts. Olaf Liljekrans has been particularly productive in 
this regard and it is to be hoped that other of Ibsen 's Roman- 
tic works will be studied with this end in view. 

Kansas University. ALBERT MOREY STURTEVANT. 



402 Tieje 



THE EXPRESSED AIM OF THE LONG PROSE FIC- 
TION FROM 1579 TO 1740 

At the present day few historians of literature adjudge 
Pamela to be the first of English "novels"; yet there seems 
to be a wide-spread belief that the theories put forth by Field- 
ing and Richardson in their prefaces were new. A small frac- 
tion of their views may be. But, as a matter of fact, there is 
even before 1579 a considerable amount of critical comment 
upon prose fiction as distinguished from poetical. 1 And after 
1579 there is so much material scattered in Spanish, French, 
and English prefaces to prose fictions, that the collector of 
such material is forced to cull and choose more than once 
before he selects the most telling remarks. 2 That such prefa- 
tory comment is not systematic "criticism" may be urged 
against it. There is systematic "criticism" in sufficiency 
at least five long French treatises before 1735. But to me the 
real value of the comment upon prose fiction is that most of 
it does lie in prefaces, and thus represents a critical tradition 
allowed to go its own way, without much interference from 
Aristotles, Castelvetros, Boileaus, and Drydens. The com- 
ment, furthermore, extends in every direction toward rela- 
tions of fiction with the drama, toward characterization, to- 
ward background or setting, toward style, etc. Of it all per- 
haps not the least interesting phase is the statement by this 
or that author of his aim or, to use his own word, his "pur- 
pose" in composition. For these statements throw a great 
light upon both the content and structure of 17th and early 
18th century fiction. Not, indeed, that I am claiming for the 
early fictionists either belief in or adherence to all their theor- 

1 1 may here state that I have already collected this matter, and that 
it constitutes the first chapter in my doctoral dissertation, entitled: The 
Expressed Theory Of European Prose Fiction before 1740. The disser- 
tation will be published shortly. The matter of the present article is 
drawn from my second chapter. 

2 In general, the quotations in this article are limited to French and 
English authors. After 1579 the Italian prefaces do not contain much 
material; Spanish fiction is of small importance outside of the novella 
and the picaresque tale; and the German prefaces copy the French. 



The Expressed Aim of the Long Prose Fiction 403 

ies. I merely insist that no author 's place in the development 
of prose fiction can be determined without reference to his 
expressed opinions upon his work a reference seldom made 
in regard to the pre-Richardsonians. For, as far as I know, 
Koerting's Geschichte des Franzosischen Romans im 17ten 
Jahrhundert is the sole exception to that high-handed method 
of modern histories of fiction, which takes for granted that 
the fictionist's theories are negligible. 

Now, it is the entire thesis of a recent German study 3 that 
upon the type to which any fiction belongs, depends its 
author's aim, and, conversely, that through some individual 
author's aim, the type itself may undergo alterations of con- 
tent and form. This is at least so far true that if we hasten to 
examine theory of the aim of fiction in general before 1740, 
we shall get nowhere. Instead, we shall do well to attempt 
to classify and define the numerous types of prose fiction in 
our period, and then to consider the expressed aims of fiction- 
ists. We shall act wisely, moreover, if we abandon any a priori 
classification of fiction, and follow the lines of division which 
authors themselves were drawing between types. Such a 
scheme will not always be consistent. Authors' ideas of types 
were not very consistent. But the classification will be con- 
venient, and will have the merit of being true to the develop- 
ment of fiction. Accordingly, let us admit as separate types 
of prose fiction before 1740 the romance; the realistic narra- 
tive; the letter-novel; the chronique scandaleuse; the voyage 
imaginaire; and the frame-work conte de fee. Let us further 
be prepared to recognize seven types of romance, and four of 
the realistic narrative. 4 

Dibelius, Englische Romankunst, Berlin, 1910. 

*Two of the earliest attempts at classifying prose fiction are worth 
quoting. Charles Sorel in La Bibliotheque Franfoise (1664; licensed 
1659) writes (p. 149): "Ces livres d 'invention d' esprit sont sous la 
forme de Fables et d' Allegories, ou ce sont des Romans de Chevalerie, et 
de Bergerie, ou des romans vraisemblables, et des nouvelles, et des 
Romans Heroiques ou Comiques." d'Aubignac in the preface to Macarise 
(1664) recognizes fictions "sur quelques notables circonstances de I'his- 
toire" (p. 126), works which "doivent joindre le merveilleux au vraisem- 
blable" (146), and narratives which are "quelques histoires de temps, 
tirees des cabales de la cour" (149). 



404 Tieje 

Obviously, for these terms careful definitions are needed, if 
we are to use them consistently throughout our discussion. By 
the general term, romance, then, is meant that form of the 
long prose fiction which has for its chief aim (often unex- 
pressed) delighting the reader, which has a fairly unified 
structure, which is essentially grounded on both love and ad- 
venture, and which, above all, employs incidents, characters, 
machinery, setting, and style, such as, in type after type, 
were insistently satirized as untrue to life. 5 Under the genus 
romance may be distinguished (the names are self-explanatory) 
the chivalric romance, the pastoral romance, the allegorical 
romance, the religious romance, the heroico-historical rom- 
ance, the informational-conversational romance, and the sat- 
irical romance. 6 By realistic narrative, as a term opposed to 
romance, is meant that form of the long prose fiction which 
has for its chief aim (often unexpressed) delighting the 
reader, which has a fairly unified structure, which emphasizes, 
in one species adventure, in another character, and which, 
above all, prides itself upon its depiction of historical or con- 
temporary manners in a method which can seldom be sati- 
rized as untrue. Under the genus realistic narrative may be 
distinguishedi (again the names are self-explanatory) the picar- 
esque tale, the novel of manners, the historical-psychological 
novel, and the psychological novel proper. By the chronique 
scandaleuse 7 is meant a series of indecent stories about his- 
torical or contemporary personages, which are told with a mali- 

8 In explaining j ust how this definition was arrived at, I may illustrate 
how I have used the material supplied by authors. The chronique scan- 
daleuse and the voyage imaginaire have special purposes; the frame- 
work conte de fee is not based on love plus adventure, and has no uni- 
fied structure; the letter-novel, also, has no unified structure; and, finally, 
the realistic narrative aimed to portray life as it is. That the forms 
are not quite mutually exclusive is not my fault, but the authors'. 

* Koerting, Oeschichte des Franzosischen Romans im 17ten Jahrhun- 
dert, classifies romances much as I have done. I subsume his political 
under my allegorical, however, since all the political romances were alle- 
gorical in one sense; and I add informational-satirical romances to his 
list. From Miss Morgan, Rise of the Novel of Manners (ch. I) I differ 
entirely. Such nomenclature as Arcadian, Euphuistic, or Classical, 
seems to me misleading. 

7 1 borrow the title from Imbert's Chronique Scandaleuse (1791). 



The Expressed Aim of the Long Prose Fiction 405 

cious or lascivious aim, are loosely connected, are either real 
or fictitious in content, and are almost certain to introduce 
the supernatural. By the voyage imaginaire is meant a rather 
unified narrative, aiming specifically at literary criticism, at 
amusement through the introduction of the wildly fantastic, 
or at social improvement of the human race, and invar- 
iably carrying the reader into unexplored regions. By the 
frame-work conte de fee is meant a series of stories dealing 
with the supernatural and bound within a frame-work tale 
which motivates the whole series. Finally, by the letter-novel 
is meant a work either romantic or realistic, and having almost 
any "purpose," but constantly assuming a special type of 
structure that of letters exchanged between two or more 
persons. 

Having, then, defined our use of fictional type-names, let 
us turn to the expressed aims of prose fiction from 1579-1740. 
We shall find that the expressed aims of authors are five if 
we are again willing to tabulate preface after preface. And 
these five aims are the amusement of the reader ; his edification ; 
his instruction; the depicting of the life about him; the at- 
tempt to arouse his emotions. 8 Were an author's expressed 
aim confined to any one of these, our problem would now be 
simple. Unfortunately, authors have complexes of aims, so 
that under each of the five ' ' purposes ' ' we must slowly bring, 
if not single fictional types, at best only groups of types at one 
and the same time. 

Were a casual reader of early prose fiction to reason a 
priori upon the aim which an author would state in his preface, 
he would probably conclude that "amusement" would be 
stressed. In place of this, however, the authors are few who 
dared to confess what, aside from money or fame, must have 
been the true goal of a vast amount of fiction-writing pleasing 
the public. The source of such reticence is worth seeking, for 
the reticence brought in its train a multitude of interesting 

8 What some might consider an aim of fiction the unwearying effort 
to force the reader to believe the author's story is not treated here, 
owing partly to lack of space, and partly to the fact that, in my judg- 
ment, this effort is more a method of working than a mere aim. The 
third of the eleven chapters of my book will be devoted to it. 



406 Tieje 

consequences. It seems to me that the aim of amusing is in 
general unemphasized, not because of what is now-a-days 
called its ' ' obviousness, ' ' but because the problem of the Ren- 
aissance, the "justification of imaginative literature," 9 bore 
heavily even to 1740 upon prose fiction. Since the Renais- 
sance, imaginative literature as a whole had no longer to prove 
its right to exist by the parade of allegory or interpolated 
"sentence"; drama and epic had unshackled themselves. But 
the more one scans the clearly reactionary outbursts of such 
recalcitrants against morality as Hamilton in the Memoirs of 
Grammont, ponders over the attitude of the French Academy 
toward Furetiere's "mean and low" Roman Bourgeois, skims 
the eight letters written against fiction by Nicole of the Port 
Royal in 1665, or eyes the apologies of Bunyan and of Lenglet- 
Dufresnoy (1734), one understands why the Spanish picar- 
esque tales are full of digressive exhortations, why the huge 
German romances of Zesen and Bucholtz are strewn with pray- 
ing heroes, and why the Abbe Prevost made his "Homme de 
Qualite" beg pardon for having in his pious old age produced 
the "amorous" tale of Manon Lescaut. Nowhere in Europe 
could one write prose fiction before 1740 without a mild blush 
of shame. 10 

Nevertheless, at times there were revolutionists who wished 
to see fiction free to entertain, and only to entertain. Sidney's 
much-quoted preface to the Arcadia X1 would seem to speak 

9 This is Spingarn's thesis in Literary Criticism in the Renaissance. 

10 1 say this despite the applause given to Mile, de Scud6ry and others. 
Mlle.'s own words are significant (Conversations sur Divers Sujets, 1685, 
p. 48) : "And I know several old senators here and even Roman matrons, 
to whom love would be so dreadful that they would even forbid their 
children to read a fiction of this kind." The conversation originally ap- 
peared in Clelie, Tome VIII (1654), which accounts for the mention of 
Rome. 

11 "Here have you this idle work of mine, which, I fear, like the spid- 
er's web, will be thought fitter to be swept away, than woven to any 
other purpose. Now, it is done only for you, only to you; if you keep it 
to yourself, or commend it to such friends who will weigh errors in the 
balance of good-will, I hope, for the father's sake, it will be pardoned . . . 
Your dear self can best witness the manner, being done in loose sheets of 
paper, most if it in your presence; the rest by sheets sent unto you, as 
fast as they were done." This preface seems to me to have been too 



The Expressed Aim of the Long Prose Fiction 407 

for romance; but Sidney stands alone amid a host of moral- 
izing romancers. It is the frame-work conte de fee which re- 
volts most boldly ; likewise in the van, fighting openly or under 
shields not difficult to thrust aside, are the authors of picares- 
que narratives and of novels of manners. In the first group, 
that of the frame-work conte de fee, the Turkish Tales alone 
emphasize didacticism. If Gueullette incidentally mentions 
the morality "couched in" the Tartarian Tales (1723), his 
Soirees Bretonnes, his Mogul, Chinese, and Peruvian Tales, 
as well as Caylus's Nouveaux Contes Orienteaux (1735) make 
no other claim than ' ' to treat of love innocent and legitimate, ' ' 
or "to prefer le frivole amusant to the things which one calls 
serious." 12 . The picaro-inventers are more difficult to fol- 
low. Thus much may be said of the extremes of this party. The 
English Faustus-book of 1587 is dismally serious in its asserted 
intention : ' ' for here we have a wicked example of his writing, 
promise, and end, that we may remember him, that we go not 
astray." On the other hand, the Wagner-book of 1594, Nashe 
in Jacke Wilton, 13 d'Aubigne in Les Aventures du Baron de 
Foeneste (1617), and particularly Hamilton in the Memoirs of 
Grammont are heart and soul for "delight"; says Hamilton, 
"I declare that, without troubling myself about the severe 
erudition of these last (critics), I write only for the amuse- 
ment of others." Between the moralizers and the "writers 



much trusted. The Arcadia is altogether too coherent to have been writ- 
ten without some of Sidney's "loose sheets" being carefully related to 
rather remote predecessors. Cf. the prefaces quoted in this chapter, 
note 17. 

12 When these fairy-tales were translated into English, they were 
given highly moral prefaces. V. that to the Peruvian Tales (1734tr.), 
the Tartarian Tales (1759), the Mogul Tales (1736). One notes, too, 
that when J. K. completed the Peruvian Tales, he introduced an ad- 
venture (v. Novelists' Magazine, Vol. XXI, p. 190) which allowed him 
to give an allegorical explanation for some unseemly pages of Gueul- 
lette's own work. 

"Jacke Wilton, pp. 72-73. Cf. Espinal's Marcos de Obregon (1618). 
The main purpose is: "d aligerar por algun espacio, con alivio, y gusto, 
la carga que oprime los ombros de V. S. Illustrissima" . . . .But import- 
ant minor aims immediately follow this: to teach morality, reverence to 
God, etc. 



408 Tieje 

for amusement" range the authors of the most important 
picaresque narratives, one and all apparently believers in 
Boccaccian advocacy of "art for art's sake." 14 Aleman in 
Spain, e. g., when annoyed by a continuation of the Guzman 
d'Alfarache, will tell us that he aimed to describe a man 
who "perfect in his parts and person, punished with 
troubles, and afflicted with miseries, and falling afterwards 
into the basest roguery, is put into the gallies. " Let us bow 
silently to Aleman 's moral zeal, and compare this sermon 
(preface to Pt. II) with the elaboration of the "variety" of 
his literary banquet for the reader (preface to Pt. I). Head 
in England will likewise show that his English Rogue (post- 
script to Vol. I) was to have been "burnt in the London fire" ; 
but a later passage (preface to Vol. Ill) casts into amusing 
relief such an exemplary intention : "If any loose word 
have dropped from my pen, I would have the reader to pass 
it over regardless, and not, like a toad, only gather up the 
venom of a garden. However, very cautious I was in offend- 
ing any modest ear (though sometimes it could hardly be 
avoided, the matter in a manner requiring it) because I look 
upon obscene expressions as the plague on paper; and he 
that comes between the sheets is in danger of being in- 
fected. " 15 As for the last class of authors, those who write 
novels of manners, they seem also to have read Boccaccio. 
Greene's dedication to Never Too Late (1590) is a significant 
forerunner of Defoe's prefaces, and has its counterpart in 
substance before Sorel's Polyandre (1648) and Furetiere's 
Roman Bourgeois (1666). "Wherein," writes Greene, "I 

14 V. the conclusion to the Decameron, and cf. the endings of such 
stories in Straparolla's Notti Piacevolle as II, 5; VII, 1; V, 2, etc. 

18 Cf. the prefaces to Sorel's Francion (1622), and to Oil Bias. Mabbe, 
prefacing a version of Cervantes's Exemplary Novels in 1640, contrasts 
strangely with the Spanish author in his remarks of 1613: "could I by 
any means suppose that these novels could excite any bad thought or 
desire in those who read them, I would rather cut off the hand with 
which I write them than give them to the public." Mabbe says: "I 
will not promise any great profit you shall reap by reading them; but 
I promise they will be pleasing and delightful." Fiirst in his Vorlaufer 
der Modernen Novelle (1897) naively accepts (p. 5) not only Cervantes's 
preface as token of his moral ardor, but even his title Novelas Ex- 
emplar es! 



The Expressed Aim of the Long Prose Fiction 409 

have discovered so artificially the fraudulent effects of Venus' 
trumperies and so plainly as on a platform laid open the 
prejudicial pleasures of love." Again, before the Farewell to 
Folly, he sighs: "Follies I term them (Mamilia, Pandosto, 
etc.) because their subjects have been superficial, and their 
intents amorous." The suggestive lines follow: "yet [were 
they] mixed with such moral principles, that the precepts of 
virtue seemed to crave pardon for all those vain opinions love 
set down in his periods. ' ' 16 

Naturally, besides admitting that entertainment was his 
sole or chief end, 17 an author could either remain severely 
silent or declare that amusement was a secondary aim. 
The expression of an incidental desire to entertain is fre- 
quent in the romance, 18 with the exception of the chival- 
ric species; it is particularly voiced in the allegorical, in- 
formational, religious, and satirical romances. In 1636 Kings- 
mill Long thus prefaces Barclay's Argenis (1621) : "It is so 
full of wise and politic discourses, and these so intermixed 

16 If any one who believes these prefaces of Greene will count the 
number of times "strange," "surprising," or "marvelous" creeps into the 
titles or dedications, I fancy he will change his opinion. The same re- 
mark applies to Defoe. 

17 Works which I have classed as psychological novels, but which 
show affiliations with the picaresque tales and with the novels of man- 
ners, can afford to be bolder than these latter; they aid a constant 
claim of "truth" by the assertion that they have been written for the 
delight of the author or an intimate friend. The prefaces of Marivaux 
to Marianne and to the Paysan Parvenu taking the form, it is true, 
of the opening to the first chapter are easily accessible. Less known 
are prefatory remarks to the Aventures de. . . . (1713, by Marivaux?): 
"he wrote these adventures to amuse the lady whom he loved"; or to 
Mme. Tencin's Comte de Comminge (1735): "I have no other design in 
writing these memoirs of my life than to recall the smallest circumstances 
of my misfortunes, and to grave them still more deeply, if that is pos- 
sible, upon my memory." 

18 The heroico-historical romances worked pleasure into their theory. 
V. Mile, de Scudery's Conversations sur Divers Sujets, Amsterdam, 
1685, pp. 33-50. For the pastoral romance see the preface to the 
Astree. For the informational-conversational romance see the Euphues; 
for the satirical the Don Quixote and the Berger Extravagant (1627). 
Bougeant in Prince Fan-faredin, a critique on fiction (1735), offers a 
peculiar defiance to the ordinary claim: "I detest romances, you know; 
I see that you love them; and I declare war against you." 



410 Tieje 

and seconded with pleasing accidents, so extolling virtue and 
depressing vice that .... every reader will be drawn by the 
delight of something in it, to read the whole." Before 
Macarise (1664), an allegory so profound that a preface of 
nearly 200 pages is necessary to explain it, the Abbe d'Aubig- 
nac admits (p. 120) : "But I shall advise my readers that 
there are many little circumstances which do not at all con- 
tain allegory, and which are only necessary connections in 

the composition of the romance, or graces " Bunyan in the 

"Apology" to Pilgrim's Progress becomes poetical: 
"They must be groped for, and be tickled, too, 
Or they will not be catch'd, whate'er you do." 

Barclay says of the Euphormio (1610) : "I have sought in all 
this pleasure and matter for laughter rather than solid and 
legitimate indictment [of vice]." Why, now, is the aim of 
amusement so freely confessed by the authors of these forms ? 
The answer is evident. All the authors of this group have ser- 
ious purposes. Yet a moralist like Camus must please in 
order to instruct, a hapless lover like Gombauld must conceal 
his affection for the lofty Marie de Medici under the plaints 
of Endymion for Diana and the pretence of "amusing the 
queen," the reformer of society like Penelon or of literature 
like Bougeant must hypnotize before he can transform. 

So much, then, for expression, complete or partial, of the 
desire to entertain. What of the types of fiction that in gen- 
eral sternly suppress any such claim the chivalric romance 
of important authors, the voyage imaginaire, the historical 
novel, the chronique scandaleusef No attentive reader need 
puzzle long. Assault upon the "frivolity" of the chivalric 
romance, particularly the Amadis, was the prevailing literary 
cry from about 1580; as a result, later authors of this form, 
notably in France, Spain, and Germany urged that they were 
merely desirous of "reforming" a "useful" kind of fiction. 
It is true that in England Sidney, Lodge, and Ford are silent 
about reform; but the great authors of the continent, Cer- 
vantes, du Verdier, 19 Gomberville, and Bucholtz, are much 

19 Cf. du Verdier, Romans des Romans (a continuation of the Amadis- 
cycle, 1624): "it is possible that you will still blame the design that I 
have made of finishing a work that you would judge little useful to 



The Expressed Aim of the Long Prose Fiction 411 

exercised. Gomberville seems to have grieved over having 
deepened the immoralities of the period (1632 seq.) by his 
publication of Polexandre though, as a matter of fact, the 
reader of his romances observes that he transformed the 
"frivolous and foolhardy Amadis to a blameless, noble 
knight," and pictured the "perfect lover" as an "honorable 
man in every respect." 20 Bucholtz before Hercules und 
Valiska (1659) cries out: "That shamelessly - passionate 
Amadis-book has many lovers also among the women, of whom, 
however, none have been bettered through it, but instead sev- 
eral are urged to unbecoming boldness, when they see painted 
before their eyes such occurrences .... I do not doubt that the 
excellent Barclay with his famous Argenis; Lord Sidney with 
his Arcadia; Marets with his Ariana. . . [who] have torn the 
Amadis out of the hands of youth .... have not given the 
slightest incitement [to evil] ... .But the true fear of God 

is not introduced even in their books therefore my mind 

and perhaps others are not satisfied with these. At least the 
reader is herewith warned in Christian wise not to read the 
book in such a way that he take out only the worldly events 
for his mental delectation and wish to pass over the inter- 
mingled spiritual things [Sachen, i. e. prayers, etc?]. If, how- 
ever, the motive which kept the chivalric romance from assert- 
ing amusement as its goal was a desire for reform, no such 

posterity; but if you could know my thoughts, you would draw an ex- 
cellent fruit from an earth so unfruitful, you would find there an ex- 
ample for virtuous living, and living in the mode (bienseance) of the 
world, you would know how necessary it is to love holily, and seeing the 
misfortunes which often indeed are born from an unregulated love, with- 
out doubt you would encounter ways to retire yourself from this preci- 
pice." It is inexact for Baker to write in the preface to his edition 
(1907) of Sidney's Arcadia: "The pastoral novel and the Amadis cycle 
of romances were the two direct progenitors of Sidney's Arcadia, in 
which the spirit of knightly heroism and the idyllic atmosphere of a 
sentimental Utopia are blended in fairly equal parts"; and for Raleigh 
in his English Novel (p. 90 )to speak of the true love of the chivalric 
romances degenerating to gallantry in the romances of the seventeenth 
century. For in the Amadis and the Palmerin cycles reigns a care- free 
licentiousness. 

20 The lines quoted are from Koerting, Oeschichte des Franzosischen 
Romans im 17 ten Jahrhundert, Vol. 1, p. 217). 



412 Tieje 

cause can be advanced for the reticence of the voyage imagi- 
naire or that of the historical novel. These sought to be be- 
lieved verbatim ; consequently, pleasure for the reader was not 
in point. The Utopian travels were apparently of deadly ser- 
ious aim; and, though the Voyages of Cyrano de Bergerac must 
have amused readers, Lebret, their editor (1656-1662), ex- 
hausts himself in proving other merits. Quite alone in dar- 
ing, accordingly, are the prefaces to such little-known vol- 
umes as Travels through Terra Australis Incognita (1684), 
A Voyage to the World of Cartesius (1692), and Lamekis 
(1735) ; perhaps one might add the preface to Pt. I of Robin- 
son Crusoe. Daniel, if he be the author of the World of 
Cartesius, hits hard at philosophic mysteries, but he cannily 
fishes for readers: "I have made it my business to diversify 
and enliven a subject naturally dry and melancholy, as well 
by the variety of accidents, which give me occasion to digress 
upon them, as by some peculiar and not incurious instances 
of the history of Cartesianism. " 21 The prefaces of the his- 
torical novelists are very similar to those of the average voy- 
ageur. Sandras, e. g., a prolific author from 1686-1705, em- 
phasizes in Roche fort his moral aim, in the Memoirs of d'Artag- 
nan his desire to honor that bold Gascon, in Coligny his yearn- 
ing to give information accessible only to him; but every- 
where he wants to secure credence. The chronique scandal- 
euse, now, is the sole form left to consider. But is a shameless 
narrative of scandal ever actuated save by vehement fervor 
to reform one 's contemporaries ? Bussy-Rabutin, indeed, ven- 
tures to preface the Histoire Amoureuse des Gaules (1660) 
with "I engaged myself in writing a history or rather a sat- 
irical roman, truly without design of injuring the interested 
parties but only to occupy myself and ... to give pleasure. ' ' 
The usual chronique scandaleuse (perhaps remembering Bus- 
sy's incarceration in the Bastille) ventures no such risk. The 
Memoires de la Comtesse de M. . . (1697) is written in reply 
to the equally odorous Memoires de la Vie du Comte de . . . 
(1696). Mrs. Manley, attacked by the Toiler for the malevol- 
ence and prurience of the New Atalantis (1709), defends her- 

21 Cf. with these statements the prefaces of Jaques Sadeur (1676), 
The Sevarambians (1675), or Gaudentio de Lucca (1727). 



The Expressed Aim of the Long Prose Fiction 413 

self by "the precedent of our great forefathers in satire," 
and by the declaration that "whoever is withheld by the con- 
sideration of fear, danger, spiteful abuses, recriminations, or 
the mean hopes of missing pity, has views too dastardly and ' 
mercenary for lofty, steadfast souls, who can be only agitated 
by true greatness, by the love of virtue, and the love of 
glory." 22 

With such citations as have been given concerning the atti- 
tude of authors toward the aim of amusement one might con- 
tinue indefinitely. The purpose of edification the second on 
our list needs closer analysis. But first let us consider briefly 
the effect of the aim of amusement upon narrative structure. 

It is at once evident that, where differing attitudes toward 
amusement were present, differing results are observable. 23 
From the group of narratives which openly confessed that u_> 
their chief desire was to delight the reader, came the most 
incoherent fictions: Jack Wilton, Simplicissimus, the English 
Rogue, the Roman Bourgeois, the Peruvian Tales. 2 * As re- 
gards the group which subordinated the announcement of ' ' de- 
light" to declaration of a moral aim, but which yet expressed 
entertainment as a minor end, two effects are seen : on the one 
hand, the moral aim tended to unify the more important picar- 
esque tales, the heroic romances, and such works as Pilgrim's 
Progress; on the other, "delight" militated against edifying 
and informational digressions. Finally, in the group which 
heroically repressed the cry of amusement as a bait to readers, 

22 Preface to New Atalantis, Vol. Ill, written in answer to the Tatler 
for Nov. 10, 1709. V., also, the same lady's Memoirs of Europe at the 
Close of the 8th Century, wherein (p. 234), when Horatio objects to 
Girron's malignant gossip, Girron answers calmly, "If we speak of 
'em, we must speak of 'em as they are." Mrs. Manley's real aim appears, 
it seems to me, in (p. 1): "Our design is to treat of rough Bellona's 
formidable charms; Mars dreadfully gay But to take in and com- 
plete our circle with the lovely sex we shall not forbear to introduce 

the queen of love." 

28 In this and the following short accounts of the relation of purpose 
to content and structure completeness is not aimed at. The more im- 
portant effects are suggested. 

24 The Peruvian Tales is included here because it is nearer to being a 
unified narrative than many a work which passes as a novel of manners. 
In its 218 pages are but two stories, one left unfinished! 



414 Tieje 

the zeal for reform changed the entire character of the chival- 
ric romance, the effort to force belief cast the voyage imaginaire 
into the mould of the "autobiography," and satirical inten- 
tion allowed to the chronique scandaleuse lasciviousness of 
material and disregard of form. 

As a foreword to an account of the expression of the ' ' moral 
purpose" among prose fictionists before 1740 no more appro- 
priate quotation can be found than one from any of Defoe's 
numerous prefaces; the modest lines concerning the Life and 
Adventures of Duncan Campbell (1720) will serve. The 
author, we learn (p. 206), has "ended all the merriest passages 
with a sober, instructive, and edifying moral." On the neces- 
sity for a ' ' sober ' ' moral, however, all the types of prose fiction 
are so thoroughly in accord that we need not consider, as in 
the case of the aim of amusement, the attitude of each type. 
We need merely classify the species and subspecies of the 
edifying purpose. The species may be called the social aim, 
the religious aim, and the moral aim proper. 

The movement for social reform exhibits two minor phases 
not without interest. The humanitarianism of Dickens, e. g., 
is at least once forestalled and that, oddly enough, by 
Defoe. 25 An aim more often stated is the establishment of a 

25 Preface to Colonel Jacques (1722): "Here's room for just and cop- 
ious observations on the blessings and advantages of a sober and well- 
governed education also how much public schools and charities might 

be improved the miserable condition of unhappy children." Abuse 

of the conditions in schools is found at least as early as Francion (1622), 
from which salient passages are given in Koerting, Vol. II, 54-57, and 
in Breton, Le Roman au I7eme Siecle, pp. 66-74; I think, however, both 
these commentators do not allow for Sorel's fondness for satire let 
truth fare as she may. Dibelius, Englische Romankunst, (Band I, 
35-43), regarding Defoe as an isolated phenomenon, gives him, I think, 
entirely too much credit for serious efforts at reform. . . .Apart from this 
one phase of the social purpose, may be mentioned here a seeming desire 
to present in humanitarian fashion the distress arising from forced mar- 
riages or cloistral immurement of daughters for economic reasons, a 
demand that slaves be better treated, and an onslaught upon dueling. 
Forced marriages and cloistral immurement are, according to Reynier, 
(Le Roman Sentimental avant L'Astree, ch. X.) the motifs of a group of 
novels from 1590-1610. Lydamant et CaJUante (1607) has: "Girls are slaves 
of their condition, miserable in that they have no choice in the matter most 
dependent upon their choice," and Martyre a" 'Amour (1603): "Behold 



The Expressed Aim of the Long Prose Fiction 415 

close relationship between the purpose claimed by satirical 
comedy, and that asserted by the novel of manners. As early 
as the Gyges Gallus (158 ?) 26 and Sorel's Francion (1622) this 
bond had been hinted at. In the Roman Bourgeois it is fully 
voiced : " I can assure you that it has not been made only for 
diversion, but that its first design has been to instruct . . . 
there have been very few who censure ordinary faults, which 
are so much more dangerous as being more common [than great 
vices] . . . .Does one not see every day an infinity of drunk- 
ards, bores, misers, pettifoggers, braggarts, flirts male and 
female? Nevertheless, has there been any who dares to ad- 
vise them of their faults and of their follies, if it has not been 
comedy or satire ? They, leaving to the learned and to magis- 
trates the care of combatting crimes, halt at the correcting of 

here the flame of the mortuary torches which paternal cruelty has all too 
miserably enkindled." I can not evaluate these aims, because I have 
not been fcble to see these works. On the next topic, the demand that 
slaves be better treated, I am better informed. The demand is heard 
chiefly in Mrs. Behn's Oroonoko (1688) and in Mrs. Aubin's Noble 
Slaves (1722). Mrs. Behn, I am sure, is not in earnest, despite Cross, 
(The English Novel, p. 20), who calls Oroonko "the first humanitarian 
novel." Mrs. Aubin really seems to mean: "We can not think without 
horror of the miseries that attend those, who in countries where the mon- 
archs are absolute, and standing armies awe the people, are made slaves 
to others." As for the attacks upon dueling, the assaults of Barclay's 
Euphormio (v. Koerting, Vol. II, 9; 22) and Camus's Cleoreste (v. Koert- 
ing, Vol. I, 198) preceded Henry IV's edict against dueling in 1627. 
The Nova Solyma (1648) assails the practice (Vol. I, 298-299). Later 
remarks of importance are to be found in the Memoires de la Vie du 

Conte D (1696), Vol. II, p. 84, and in PreVost's Homme de Qualite 

(Vol. V, p. 256). Fenelon, of course, wrote Telemachus (1699) partly 
that he might embody his views upon dress, furniture, architecture, etc. 
28 The Gyges Gallus, a mixture of character book and novel of man- 
ners, has a hero who in the preface regards his aim as novel; having 
gained the ring of invisibility, he writes: "as soon as, being received 
everywhere, I shall have known the customs, ridiculous and even crim- 
inal of my century, I shall write them." But the Gyges Gallus lacks 
plot. The Francion (1622), which has plot, carries on the movement: 
"In it are only naive descriptions of the vices of some men, and of all 

their faults or of some trickeries of others." Cf. also the prefaces 

to Polyandre (1648), which exhibits six Parisian types, to la Vie du 
Comte D . . . . (1696), which presents forty or more feminine types as mis- 
tresses of the hero, and to CrSbillon's Comte de Meilcaeur (1735). 



416 Tieje 

indecencies and of ridiculousness. They are not less neces- 
sary and are often more useful than all the serious discourses 
.... and as an excellent portrait demands our admiration, 
though we do not recognize it for the person portrayed, in the 
same way one can say that fictitious narratives well-written and 
under assumed names make more impression upon our mind 
than the true names and the true adventures could make." 

But the most significant movement toward social reform 
centered about the voyage imaginaire : from at least as early as 
1675 a feeling that the ideal man is the man unspoiled by 
civilization may be traced. The hermaphrodites among whom 
Jaques Sadeur (1676) finds unstained innocence, the peaceable 
race of the land of the Sevarambians (1675), the charming 
sun- worshippers described in Gaudentio de Lucca (1726), the 
odd peoples whom Le Nouveau Gulliver (1728) encounters 
all these offer evidence. The author of Jaques Sadeur, it is 
true, preserves a cautious silence in his preface; Vairasse, in 
general most careful not to offend Catholicism, speaks boldly 
only once in the Sevarambians; and Berington (if Berington 
wrote Gaudentio de Lucca) seldom drops his seemly mask of 
a MS found in the annals of the Inquisition. Desfontaines, on 
the other hand, does not mince words in the introduction to 
his Nouveau Gulliver: "One will see there the censure of all 
the policed nations, in the mouth of a virtuous savage, who 
knows only natural reason and who finds that that which we 
call civilization (societe civile), polish, manners, is only a 
vicious commerce, which our corruption has invented and 
which our prejudice makes us esteem. ' ' 27 

"Various other citations will show how wide-spread the admiration 
for the natural man was before Rousseau. "For this people always 
keep a good guard on their frontier, as being apprehensive that strangers 
may come, and by ill examples corrupt their innocence, disturb their 
tranquility, and introduce vice and wickedness among them" (Sevaram- 
bians, p. 202). "And their manner of living. .. .may pass for a perfect 
image of the state of man in full possession of natural happiness upon 
the earth" (Jaques Sadeur, preface). "And these people represented to 
me an absolute idea of the first state of innocence, before man knew how 
to sin; and 'tis most evident and plain, that simple nature is the most 
harmless, inoffensive, and virtuous mistress. "Pis she alone, if she were 
permitted, that better instructs the world than all the invention of man; 
Religion would here but destroy that tranquility they possess by ignor- 



The Expressed Aim of the Long Prose Fiction 417 

Just as we allowed Defoe to introduce not only the subject 
of the edifying aim in general, but also the narrower topic of 
the "social purpose," so we may let him be herald for the 
religious aim. The grief with which he regards abridged edi- 
tions of Robinson Crusoe is piteous ; but as early as the Storm 
(1704) he had avowed: "The main inference I shall pretend 
to make in this case, is, the strong evidence God has been 
pleased to give in this terrible manner to his own Being." 
Usually, the religious claim assumes one of two forms: the 
praise by the author of such pious monotheism as is injected, 
e. g., into the Cytheree of Gomberville (1638) and the Adria- 
tische Rosemunde of Zesen (1645), or the setting up of mili- 
tant sectarianism. 28 Back of the terrifying mass of Ingelo's 
Bentivolio and Urania (1660) is a preface of many pages, in- 
culcating devotion to reformed religion. Nor were the Cath- 
olics silent. No less a personage than the Abbe Prevost gov- 
erned much of his work by a desire to instill Christian tenets. 29 

ance; and laws would but teach 'em to know offences, of which they have 
now no notion" (Oroonoko, pp. 79-80). V. also Montesquieu's Lettres 
Persanes, letters X-XIV, giving the history of the Troglodytes; the ac- 
count of the Abaqui in Prevost's Cleveland, Vol. II, 203 seq. (1769 ed.) 
and Leonore's conversation with Jaime in Comte de Warwick (1704), 
Vol. II, p. 38. 

28 By far the most curious of these special pleadings is the Avan- 
tures de Madona et Francis d' Assist, the author of which is an exile 
after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes; the preface is remarkable 
alike for a wish to gain converts, and if necessary, to retail nastiness. 
The author writes to Charles XII: "provided that your Majesty find 
pleasure therein, let the Vatican growl, let it thunder, let it fulminate, 
I shall trouble myself little. Perhaps even as these adventures divert 
your Majesty, they will cause to be born the thought of imitating the 
zeal of the great Gustavus, and the desire of reducing to reason the 
enemies of your state"; further on, he adds: "To complete the confusion 
of the Papacy by itself, it has come into my mind to render public among 
the Protestants the life of its principal saints, and to give this work a 
novelistic form (air de roman), in order not to tire the reader, and to 
make more impressive the ridiculousness and the falsity of the things 
which are reported by the legendaries." 

"V. the prefaces to the Homme de Qualite, to Cleveland, and to the 
Doyen de Killerine. The last is the most significant; Cleveland has been 
attacked on various grounds, and in the preface to the Doyen de Killer- 
ine (1735-1740) PreVost defends himself by pointing out that Cleveland 



418 Tieje 

Dofoe has headed the quotations which vouch for the 
"social" and religious pretensions of authors; he might well 
lead the citations for the third species of claim, that of the 
moral purpose proper. But with this topic our problem in- 
creases greatly in complexity; still closer analysis of authors' 
assertions is necessary, or we shall not understand the effect 
of these assertions upon narrative technique. For in the moral 
field the use of characters as examples, good and bad, aroused 
a continuous tempest; the life-story of an improving or de- 
generating hero grew popular ; volumes were written solely to 
illustrate certain virtues; the insertion into a story of moral 
comments was debated pro and con; chastity of language was 
defended and assailed. 

The value claimed for example is perhaps the most common 
testimony of authors to their moral aims. The title of 
Greene 's Mirrour of Modestie is characteristic both of him and 
of the plea; "wherein," he tells us, "appeareth as in a per- 
fect glass how the Lord delivereth the innocent from all im- 
minent perils, and plagueth the blood-thirsty hypocrites with 
deserved punishments. Shewing that the gray heads of dot- 
ing adulterers shall not go with peace into the grave, neither 
shall the righteous be forsaken in the day of trouble. ' ' 30 
This citation, moreover, aptly suggests an issue old as the 
world perhaps; certainly as old as fiction. Are not gray- 
headed adulterers and their like better banished from the 
realms of so formative a power as fiction? 

On the affirmative side of this question were marshaled in 

had struggled to attain morality, unsupported by a creed, until "it 
is in the conversations with that illustrious friend that he finds peace 
of heart, and true wisdom with the perfect recognition of religion." 
"Such," he adds, "is the plan of the English Philosopher." In the 
Doyen de Killerine one notes that Georges goes to destruction as a 
result of "natural religion." Cf. also Homme de Quality, Vol. II, pp. 
50-52 (ed. 1769). Mrs. Aubin's preface to the Count de Vinevil must 
also be considered. 

30 Cf. Mrs. Hay wood, preface to Memoirs of an Island Adjacent to 
Utopia (1725). How smirkingly she writes (ibid., Vol. II, p. 126): 
"Example has infinitely more power than precept to sway the mind of 
man either to good or ill." 



The Expressed Aim of the Long Prose Fiction 419 

France, d'Urfe, Gerzan, 31 Gomberville, and other romancers; 
and in England the anonymous author of the Nova Solyma 
goes as far as the writer of any modern Sunday-school story. 
The unwieldy volumes of the Nova Solyma (1648) are pre- 
eminently pure; the purpose is candidly told (Vol. I, p. 300) : 
' ' The argument of this book is the history of a life that is free, 
that has received a liberal education, and has been well and re- 
ligiously brought up ; it keeps within the bounds of the human- 
ly possible, and deals, as a rule, with the middle class." The 
brief for the negative of the issue contained, as might be sur- 
mised, a variety of defenses. Advocates of "art for art's 
sake," and using all the grinning apologies of Boccaccio and 
Bandello, were Aleman, Head, Quevedo, 32 etc. ; the dropping 
of all pretense of a moral purpose we have seen in Hamilton 's 
Memoirs of Grammont (1709), and we find it more startingly 
proclaimed in a genuine predecessor of Zola, Des Challes. In 
1713 he pleads thus before Les Illustres Frangaises for "une 
morale plus naturelle." "Here are, I believe, a good part 
of the occurrences which are ordinarily found in the world; 
and the moral that one can draw from them is so much the 
more sensible, as it is founded upon certain facts." On a 
quite different tack in the defense of the "horrible example" 
are Du Verdier, whom we have quoted (note 19) as a friend 
of the Amadis, and Furetiere, who struck deeper than he knew 
in assailing the Astree. Notwithstanding, it was in the reli- 

81 Preface to Sofonisbe (1627): "In the same way it is necessary to 
take care that the amours one treats of shall be so chaste and so honor- 
able that they can not displease the most delicate ears." Some of Ger- 
zan's situations, however, incline the reader to qualify this assertion a 
trifle. 

32 Preface to Pt. I of Aleman's Guzman (1599): "That which thou 
shalt find less grave or discomposed, presents itself in the person of a 

picaro, which is the subject of this book. Such things as these sport 

thyself with them and afterwards shake hands." The French trans- 
lation (1648) of Quevedo's Historia del Buscon llamado don Pablos 
(1596) has a preface wherein the "Spanish Sharper" defends himself 
before the gods! 

83 Furetire's defense of the Amadis (preface to Roman Bourgeois) 
is singularly like Lamb's plea for the Restoration dramatists: "Tel entre 
ceux-la est I'Astree, puis il exprime naturellement les passions amour- 
euses, et mieux elle s'insinuent dans les jeunes dmes, ou il se glisse un 



420 Tieje 

gious romances of Camus that a legitimate and modern line 
of defense was developed. For Camus, I think, means every 
word he utters when he says : " If I dig in the ordures of the 
world, if I represent evil actions and even unchaste ones 
(deshonnetes) , although very rarely, in order to make them 
detested, and through bloody invectives which I make against 
vice purge the world of its corrupt manners, why will any one 
blame this labor ? " 34 The sole advance upon this view before 
1740 is Prevost's comment upon Manon Lescaut (1732) : "But 
experience is not an advantage which ought to be free to all 
the world to give itself ; there remains then only example which 
can serve as a rule." 

The use of the good or bad character as an example easily 

venin imperceptible, qui a gagne le coeur qu'on puisse avoir pris du con- 
trepoison. Ce n'est pas comme ces autres romans ou il n'y a que des 
amours des princes et des palladins qui, n'ayant rien de proportionee 
avec les personnes de commun, ne les touchent point, et ne font point 
naitre d'envie de les imiter." 

^Cleoreste, Vol. II, p. 720, ed. 1626. I do not agree with Koerting 
(Vol. I, p. 205) when he questions the sincerity of Camus's moral aim. 
It is true that this position is difficult to determine. We find before his 
Singular Events (162?; tr. 1639) a preface suggestive of the extreme 
stand of the purists: "The enterprise which I have taken in hand, is to 
.... encounter with those frivolous books, which may all be comprised 
under the name of romants (he includes the Italian novelle) . . . .O why 
hath not my pen the virtue to cure the wounds that these wicked books 
cause the world .... It makes me fear a labor like unto that of Danaides 
.... By what manner do I labor to overcome my adversaries ? It is by 
diversion, setting relations true and beneficial . . . . " On the opposite, 
we find within the Singular Events some novelle, more gruesome than 
any I have ever read, the Curried Lovers, e. g. Is Camus, then, a Greene 
or Defoe? It seems to me that the 100 pages of defense before Agaton- 
phile (1623), the passage quoted from Clearest e, and another from 
Aristandre (1624): "David committed two sins of horror, adultery and 
homicide, which are those which play most part in this German history," 
bear the accent of sincerity. Let the reader note the difference between 
these frank remarks, and an English lie (Head's Art of Wheedling, 
1675): "consider Brutus and his confederates are not forgot in Livy; 
Sinon lives in Virgil and Pandarus in Homer; there is a Lais memorable 
in Corinth and a Lamia in Athens, and why should we not match those 
rampant whores with a pair of as lusty rogues?" Cf. also the prefaces 
to such works as Mme. de Villedieu's Annales Galantes (167?) or Jane 
Barker's Exilius (1715). 






The Expressed Aim of the Long Prose Fiction 421 

passed into the presentation of a life-story. The creators of 
picaros are again to the front; smilingly they inform us that 
they had doomed their heroes were it not for ill-mannered 
and ill-moraled sequels from other hands to end in the gal- 
leys (Guzman c&'Alfarache) or in a holocaust (English Rogue) 
or in dire distress (Roxana.) The claim for a less piquant 
procedure, the slow unshackling of a sin-bound nature, is 
manifest in Gil Bias (1715-1735) and in Crebillon's Comte de 
MeilcoBitr (1735). Le Sage's parable about the two scholars 
of Salamanca, given in the preface to Gil Bias, is accepted 
as good moral coin by such an investigator as Breton ; 35 be 
that as it may, Gil's comments upon himself are worthy of 
notice. For Gil is not of the Spanish fraternity of picaros. 
He falls reluctantly; as late as Vol. II, p. 70, he is "shocked 
by .... faults ; but by misfortune I found a little too much to 
my taste their fashion of living, and I plunged myself into 
debauchery"; finally, at the close of the tale, he settles down, 
reformed. 36 As for Crebillon, his theory, since he had consid- 
erable influence, is more interesting than his assigned motive 
is trustworthy. The Comte de Meilco&ur was never finished 
by its author; but he stated as his thesis the regeneration of 
a man, who through ignorance of that which is really worth 
while, becomes proud and debauched, and is only saved from 
this deadly condition by love for "une femme estimable." 

Example and life-story were not the sole resources of the 
moral-loving writers of fiction. At times books were written 
to exploit special virtues. Greene pens triumphantly: "Pene- 
lope's Web, wherein a crystal mirror of feminine perfection 
represents to the views of every one those virtues and graces, 
which more curiously beautifies the mind of women, than 
either sumptuous apparel, or jewels of inestimable value : the 
one buying fame with honor, the other breeding a kind of de- 
light, but with repentance. In three several discourses also are 
three special virtues .... pithily discussed : namely, Obedience, 
Chastity, and Silence." Camus, among others, declares some 
interesting moral campaigns: "La Memoir e de Darie (1620), 

85 Le Roman au 18me Siecle, p. 39-40. 

" Paris, 1810 ed. Cf. Oil Bias, Vol. Ill, p. 101; III, 155; IV, 16; 
IV, 83. 



422 Tieje 

"where one will see the pattern (idee) of a devoted life and a 
religious death"; Palombe (1624), "concerning the purity 
of marriage and the honoring of a model wife"; Cleoreste 
(1626), "the image of a perfect friendship, crowned and con- 
eluded with a holy alliance between some French and Spanish 
[lovers]." 

A fourth device of the moral aim, the insertion of comments 
by the author or by a character used as the author's mouth- 
piece, gradually met with disfavor. Euphues illustrates this 
sand-bagging method carried to an extreme. The well-known 
"caveat," even though it follows the Euphues proper, is at 
least attached to Lyly's narrative; accordingly, the reader of 
Euphues feels that he is neglecting his duty, if he ignores the 
admonition (p. 259) : "And calling to mind his former loose- 
ness, and how in his youth he had misspent his time, he thought 
to give a caveat to all parents, how they might bring their 
children up. ' ' The introduction to the Euphues also furnishes 
cheerful proof as to why no one dares to classify this volume 
under any one of the types of prose fiction. "These dis- 
courses," riddles Lyly, "I have not clapped in a cluster, 
thinking with myself that ladies had rather be sprinkled with 
sweet water, then washed, so that I have sowed them here and 
there, like strawberries, not in heaps, like hops." Later, in 
the picaresque narratives of Spain, in Barclay's Argenis 
(1621), and in Sorel's Francion (1622), this sand-bagging 
method is similarly, if less alliteratively, expounded ; but Sorel 
remarks: "there are some remonstrances, which, although 
they are short, will not fail to touch the soul vividly. ' ' That 
"short" is important as paving the way for a reform in struct- 
ure, most clearly indicated in Le Sage's preface to his trans- 
lation of Guzman d'Alfarache; he censures that work thus: 
"But the author ought to restrain himself from these ingen- 
ious sermons (lemons), which Persius calls with perfect truth 
'une regie qui trompe,' and not cut at every moment the thread 
of the adventures of his hero, in order to throw himself into 
long harangues against manners." After this advance, it is 
disappointing to find that in England the glib Defoe should 
have emphatically approved a method of composition detri- 
mental to coherence: "this makes the abridging of this work 



The Expressed Aim of the Long Prose Fiction 423 

(Eobinson Crusoe} as scandalous as it is knavish and ridicu- 
lous seeing .... they strip it of all those reflections, as well 
religious as moral, which are not only the greatest beauty of 
the work, but are calculated for the infinite advantage of the 
reader." 37 

Defoe, however, is not only connected with this fourth way 
in which "moral purpose" voiced itself the insertion of 
edifying comments; he is far down the line of a band of 
crusaders, seeking purity of phrase the last moral claim of 
the fictionists which we shall consider. Just what motive lay 
behind this particular movement one can but ponder. In 
any event, quite aside from the dubious cleanliness of speech, 
which was advocated by Sorel, Head, and Defoe, 38 and which 
needs no further attention, there is such a movement. Lyly 
is honest in saying : ' ' For this I have diligently observed, that 

87 Robinson Crusoe, Vol. II, preface (1719 ed.). The Nova Solyma 
(1648) extols the romance for allowing digressions, and Ingelo in the 
Bentivolio and Urania (1660) and Boyle in Theodora and Didymus 
(1686) revel in the scope for preaching afforded by a pious purpose. 
In France, also, Bremont, an earlier translator of Guzman, considers 
it a merit to say: "J'ai ajoute de petites faqons." On the other hand, 
Espinal in the Marcos de Obregon (1618) had anticipated Le Sage by 
writing: "We ought never to stick too closely to dry doctrinal points, 
or give too great a loose to the play of the imagination ; morality may be 
introduced under pleasing colors, and doctrine also be blended with 
delight"; and Sorel remarks upon Guzman in his Bibliotheque Franqoise 
(1664), p. 172: "it is true that one has restrained the moral discourses 
which seem too long for this sort of book" (is this a reference to a trans- 
lation of 1647? I found this idea of revision in the preface to a 1647 tr. 
of Guzman d'Alfarache, which had been bound into the preface of Vol. 
XI of Cleopatre, 1654 ed.) Care should be taken not to attribute to 
Le Sage a strict theory of unity. He is not opposed to narrative 
digressions, for he follows the quotation already cited by: "It is true 
that Mateo is sometimes too concise. If he elaborates almost always. . . . 
when he moralizes, he deducts for that from his comic actions, which he 
recounts too succinctly." 

** V. Moll Flanders, preface: "The pen employed in finishing her 
story and making it what you now see it to be, has had no little difficulty 

to put it into a dress fit to be seen to wrap it up so clean as not to 

give room, especially for vicious readers, to turn it to his disadvantage"; 
or Roxana: "all imaginable care has been taken to keep clear of inde- 
cencies." Mrs. Aubin before Lady Lucy (1726) and Mrs. Barker before 
Exilius (1715) have similar apologies. 



424 Tieje 

there shall be nothing found, that may offend the chaste mind, 
with unseemly terms or uncleanly talk." D'Urfe's words are 
true in: "and be assured, my dear Lignon, that they (Diana 
and her nymphs) will find there no single thought that can 
offend their chaste and modest ears" (1'Astree, preface to 
Pt. III). The boast: 

' ' No word obscene, no phrase lascivious, 

You here shall read, to taint a virgin 's blush, ' ' 
is almost the sole merit of Baron's Honor's Academy (1645). 39 
Not, indeed, until the stately edifice of heroico-historical rom- 
ance tottered, and the memoire secrete, like some vermin, crept 
from the ruins, did malicious nastiness of phrase and scene re- 
place the "propriety" of the "princely" fictions. 40 

39 With the first blush of shame by the ladies of the Decameron so 
easily forgotten should be compared the very vigorous reproofs ad- 
ministered to a French Dioneo by the ladies of Mariane du Filomene 
(1596). The English version of the Decameron in 1620 softens the 
frank diction of the stories of Dioneo on days three and nine. Baudoin's 
Diversitez Historiques (1620) has not a single unchaste line or situation. 
Boyle's Theodora and Didymus (1686) is scrupulously delicate in de- 
lineating a stew and its victims. The preface to Pandion and Amphi- 
yeneia, however (1665), is untrustworthy. So it goes through the cen- 
tury. 

40 Since a taking of prefaces at face value has somtimes led to a mis- 
comprehension of the author's attitude, it has seemed worth while to 
append my feeling upon the trustworthiness of the edifying claims of 
the more important authors. The social and religious aims may in gen- 
eral be accepted as valid. In the case of the moral aim proper the fol- 
lowing writers seem to me double-tongued: in England Greene, Head, 
Kirkman, Defoe, Mrs. Manley, and Mrs. Haywood; in France Sorel, 
Furetiere, Sandras, and Crebillon; in Spain Aleman, Quevedo, and 
Perez. With reservations the following may be trusted: in England 
Mrs. Behn, Mrs. Barker, and Mrs. Aubin; in France Le Sage and 
Marivaux; in Spain Cervantes. Other important authors are in gen- 
eral sincere. As for minor writers the text or special notes furnish 
information .... Let me illustrate, however, how dangerous it is to quote 
a preface by itself. In a monograph by Stanglmaier upon Jane Barker 
he lauds her high moral aim, and quotes her preface to Exilius as a 
proof. Now, Stanglmaier overlooks two points to be taken into con- 
sideration: one, of course, the book itself; the other, the type of preface 
popular in 1715. Mrs. Aubin, Mrs. Butler, and Mrs. Hearne all use 
similar prefaces; I regard them all as dubious. Again, Clodius's atti- 
tude within the volume (a) toward the siren's wife (p. 245), and (b) 



The Expressed Aim of the Long Prose Fiction 425 

How far, the reader is now probably asking, do all these 
quotations about moral aims bear upon the development of 
prose fiction? Many implications the reader only slightly 
acquainted with 17th century narrative will discover for him- 
self. 41 Three effects of theorizing, nevertheless, are so im- 
portant as to demand more attention than was allotted to the 
results brought about by the aim at amusement. The desire to 
picture Utopias, for instance, exercised a disintegrating in- 
fluence upon all the important voyages imaginaires. Without 
exception, the New Atlantis, Jaques Sadeur, the Sevarambians, 
Gaudentio de Lucca, Le Nouveau Gulliver are broken by di- 
gressions germane to the purpose of composition. Another 
factor, too, though at first it is less evident, aided this in- 
coherence. In order to reform, the voyage imaginaire sought 
to be believed, and thus, in general, passed as being edited 
from a MS, often fragmentary. In more than one case, ac- 
cordingly, prefaces and notes cite breaks in the text as con- 
clusive proof that the narratives are authentic. Responsibility 
for form, of course, rested nowhere. 

A second important effect upon fiction was brought about 
by postulating a relation of the structure of fiction to that of 
comedy. Comedy had, in satirizing, represented life as it is. 
Fiction, then, was also to represent life as it is; and the ine- 
vitable outcome was that, on the one hand, the "novels of 
manners" were often inchoate, and that, on the other, they 
compensated for this defect by becoming true ancestors of 
the local-color ephemerae of our own day. The latter service 
was one which we need not dwell upon in the period of Gom- 
berville and Mile, de Scudery. Moreover, when occasionally a 
writer chose to present life from the point of view of one man 

toward Libidina (p. 282) are suggestive of several things among them 
the value of Mrs. Barker's "high" moral aim. Miss Morgan, too, (Novel 
of Manners, p. 113), seems to accept as true Mrs. Barker's declara- 
tion that she is imitating Telemachus a bare faced-lie. 

" The use of references to authorities at the side of the text, e. g. 
In the preface to Don Quixote this device is amusingly attacked, but it 
reappears in Bentivolio and Urania (1st ed.), Pilgrim's Progress, etc. 
Camus writes before Agatonpkile (1623): "I had taken pains to put in 
the margin of the text the citations from authority (des lieux de 
I'ecriture) ... .but. .. .these fringes were more ample than the robe." 



426 Tieje 

or woman rising or falling amid its turmoil, there resulted a 
rough unity. Vividly depicted though the scenes of Gil Bias 
and Moll Flanders are, these volumes were of yet greater sig- 
nificance in stressing a coherence which in the hands of Field- 
ing became plot. 

The third effect upon fiction sprang from the struggle for 
' ' purity. ' ' To the champions of chastity 42 we owe the ' ' insi- 
pidity" of romance. Nor need we repeat what we have said 
of the men who stood for freedom and license for "art for 
art 's sake. ' ' The point is that in the war between the insipid 
purity for which the fashionable heroico-historical romance 
fought and the licentiousness which was advocated by its 
enemy, the novel of manners, there gradually arose writers 
who used what material they chose, and used it as the greatest 
geniuses always will use it without abuse. One thinks, of 
course, of the Princesse de Cleves, of Manon Lescaut, of Ma- 
rianne, of Tom Jones, of the Nouvelle Heloise. * 3 

From time to time, perhaps, the attentive reader will have 
noted in the course of the discussion of the chief purposes 
claimed by prose fiction, namely amusement and edification 
that quotations have been used, quotations which might apply 
to other purposes. Such purposes were to give information, to 
depict life as it is, and to arouse emotion. 

42 Camus's remarks before Dorothee (1621) are another proof of his 
sincerity: "Therefore the song of Solomon will be rejectable (by the 
advocates of purity) because of ses termes si tendre et- . .ses inventions 
si delicieuses .... but those who employ such terms for the service of 
modesty, why shall they be blamable?" 

48 Certain minor effects upon fiction may well be recalled or suggested. 
Both the relation of the insertion of moral comments to incoherence of 
structure and the development by Camus of the doctrinaire novel have 
been mentioned; surely the constant result of the doctrinaire novel has 
been to stultify the individual character into the type. Again, the ser- 
vice of the care-free conte de fee to the romantic revival of the eighteenth 
century should not be underestimated. In regard, finally, to the develop- 
ment of character, one passage illustrating the early use of "contrast" 
may be quoted: "They will see here four very different courts of great 
princes: one where reigns pride, insolence, and cruelty; another where 
there is talk only of valor, generosity, and other virtues necessary to 
conquerors; in another they will see only cowardice, voluptuousness, and 
debauchery; and in the other a wisdom so great that at its liking it 
dominates all the passions" (Desmaret's Rosane, 1639). 



The Expressed Aim of the Long Prose Fiction 427 

Until one has classified the remarkable ramifications of the 
first of these aims the wish to impart information of some 
kind one has no idea of its hold upon prose fiction. Indeed, 
the chief reason for analyzing this wish is that only thus 
can one fully understand the debt which is owed to the rom- 
ances of Calprenede and of Mile, de Scudery by the slowly 
emerging theory of unity. For these, and these almost alone, 
kept themselves free, at least till Clelie, from the flotsam of 
the sea of instruction; yet, curiously enough, these romances 
are still spoken of as hopelessly adrift in a literary Sargasso. 
As we proceed from the less dangerous to the more astounding 
types of informational insertion, the value of their service be- 
comes clear. 

At once we may premise that instruction is not always ad- 
vanced as an end, 44 and that, even when so advanced, it is 
somewhat difficult to separate from the social, religious, and 
moral aims. 45 The inculcation of proper behaviour, whether * 
through advice to a courtier or in directions to a sailor, seems 
the purpose least detrimental to unity. "Read," advises 
Harvey in Pierce' s Supererogation, "the Countess of Pem- 
broke's Arcadia for three things especially very notable 

.... for amorous courting .... for sage counseling .... for val- 
orous fighting .... and delightful pastime by way of pastoral 
exercise may pass for the fourth." Explains Le Sage before 
his Aventures du Beauchene (1732) : "Another motive still 
incited him to this work, which he viewed as useful to so- 
ciety; he fancied that one would get an infinite pleasure 
(saurait un gre infini) from the minutest details that he gave 
of the encounters in which he had commanded; because, ac- 
cording to him, a post-captain and a simple shipmaster (patron 
de barque) ought to have as much prudence, address, and 
courage in their conduct as an admiral in his." 

Discourses upon religious freedom, upon philosophy, and 

44 As in the Telemachus, e. g., which has no preface. Here, however, 
certain passages are key-notes to the purpose of the author. V. pp. 85; 
161 ; 352. 

45 Confusion with other purposes is well illustrated in Quevedo's Trav- 
els (1684, and not by Quevedo), where we wander among many satirical 
lands, beholding all types of women, save those of Black-Swan-Mark, 
called the "Modestianians." (p. 104). 



428 Tieje 

especially upon monarchy versus democracy have already been 
noted as the political meats of that " sweet nut," Bar- 
clay's Argenis. 46 In similar fashion and in accordance with 
expressed theory, the Utopian voyages, and the allegorical, 
religious, and informational romances insert much concerning 
government. Political aim, too, directs the Medici of Lenoble 
(1698) : "I have chosen in famous authors the secret intrigues 
of the most famous conspiracies, and I have reduced them to 
small and specific histories (histoires particulieres) , in which 
besides the pleasure of the singular events mingled with love- 
intrigues, I hope there will be found all that political finesse 
(politique la plus fine) ". . .Les Amours d'Anne d'Autriche,* 7 
"in offering the following history" intends to "develop the 
great iniquitous mystery of the veritable origin of Louis XIV, 
disturber of public repose." Yet another political theme is 
that of patriotism. The Astree is to celebrate, says d'Urfe, 
not an Italian Arcadia, but the banks of his cherished Lignon ; 
Gerzan intended to cap his other romances (1626-1630) with 
a Histoire Gauloise; Calprenede states before Faramond that 
from all Europe and Asia he has chosen France for the theater 
of his action, in order that he might gratify national pride; 
and Bucholtz writes in the preface to Hercules and Valiska 
(1659) : "I suspect that the love for my country has built this 
Christian German Hercules in my soul. . . .without doubt our 
Germany also fostered in those times many brave heroes and 
princes, whose fame the envy of foreigners (Unteutschen) 
and the lack of historians suppressed and dedicated to obli- 
vion." 48 

44 V. pp. 95 (religious freedom); 454 (philosophy); 19; 65; 139; 206; 
254; 355 (government). 

" English translation of 1692. Cf. the preface to Memoires Secretes 
pour servir a I'histoire de Perse (173?), or that to Sandras's Coligny 
(1686). 

48 The back-handed strokes of Swift in Gulliver's Travels are little 
noticed. "I meddle not," we are told (Vol. II, p. 188), "with any party,' 
but write without passion, prejudice, or ill-will against any man or num- 
ber of men whatsoever." Yet once at least Swift unmasks (II, 192): 
"I had conceived a few scruples with relation to the distributive justice 
of princes upon those occasions." There follows a digression upon 
colonizing. 



The Expressed Aim of the Long Prose Fiction 429 

Other distinguishable goals of the aim to inform are the im- 
parting of scientific and critical knowledge. For the latter 
desire such satirical romances as Don Quixote, Lysis, Prince 
Fan-faredin 49 may be consulted ; for the former aim the New 
Atlantis of Bacon, the Voyages to the Moon and to the Sun 
of Cyrano de Bergerac, and the Voyage to the World of Car- 
tesius (1692) afford sufficient proof. The New Atlantis has, 
however, no preface, and the views of the whimsical Cyrano 
are expressed only through his contemporary editors, Le Bret 
and Robauld. 50 Of Daniel's theory, already quoted, the 
lamentable result is that the really clever story occupies 
about one-sixth of a volume of 200 pages. Is it not clear that 
in a broad way we may characterize the instructional aim 51 as 

"The prefaces of Don Quixote and the Berger Extravagant are not 
difficult of access. That to Prince Fan-feredin (1735) runs: "Behold 

it done. 'Tis a romance, and I who have written it if this little work, 

the offspring of a sincere desire to connect good taste with good sense, 
answers my intentions by inspiring you, and all who read it, with a just 
aversion for the reading of romances, I will pardon you for having 
made me write it." V. also the preface to Wieland's Don Sylvio de 
Rosalva (1764). 

50 Ribault, prefacing in 1662 the Empires of the Sun, writes: "I can 
further say to you that he has perhaps believed that a roman should 
be a new method of treating important matters, which would be able to 
touch the taste of the minds of the century, and that he has written 
in the same sentiment that makes Lucretius defend himself for having 
made wisdom speak in verse." 

51 Certain miscellaneous aims of Gerzan and others will illustrate the 
situation very clearly. "In VAfriquaine," says Gerzan (1627-1628), "I 
discover two admirable masterpieces which great intellects have always 
concealed, of which the one acts powerfully for the conservation of the 
radical humidity (I'humide radical), and through the other the ladies 
can arrive at the height of beauty, be it for whiteness, be it for delicacy 
of skin. ... In V Ameriquaine [I reveal] the savage mode of life of 
some peoples of the Indies, and the singularities of their country." So 
in VAsiatique he intends an allegory "of our days," mixed, however, with 
information about ancient forms of worship: and in I'Europeane he 
means to analyze "the evil-doing of a favorite." It is interesting that 
Gerzan reprinted some of this material in 1643 under the captions La 
Triomphe des Dames and Le Grand Or Potable des Philosophes. Head 
gives in a postscript to Vol. I of the English Rogue (1665) the follow- 
ing aim: "and (I) shall ere long discover what further progress he 
made in his cheats. . . .not omitting the description of those places where- 



430 Tieje 

disastrous providing that we ignore some slight contribu- 
tions to a local-color movement ? 62 

Enough has been said upon the aims of entertainment, edifi- 
cation, and information. Never, as far as I know, did the two 
remaining purposes of prose fiction the aim to depict life 
and the aim to arouse emotion appear as the sole goals of any 
author. Nor need the former of these aims be followed min- 
utely. Its most marked champions, Sorel, Furetiere, Scarron, 
Le Sage, Defoe, and Marivaux have been taken up in the con- 
sideration of the dependence of the novel of manners upon 
comedy ; and their by no means beneficial influence upon form, 
and their highly-desirable drift toward realism in incident, 
character, setting, and style may be seen in almost any of their 
productions. Not touched upon as yet, however, is the sug- 
gestion in Mareschal's Chrysolite (1627) of the importance of 
accuracy in the treatment of human emotion; his theory, un- 
fortunately, does not reveal his amazing power as a psycholo- 
gist. He merely says: "In others you will see only inflated 
balloons in the air which burst into atoms, monsters composed 
of a thousand contradictions .... here I have put nothing save 
what a man can do, I hold myself in the limits of a private 

life and I make use of antiquity [the scene is in Athens] 

only to lend glamour (donner une couleur Stranger e} to the 
good or evil of our day. ' ' Of some importance, finally, is the 
promise of the historical romance and novel to picture faith- 

in he perpetrated his rogueries." Ramsay in the Travels of Cyrus (1727) 
insists that he, like Xenophon, makes his hero travel in order to teach 
the reader history and geography. Even Mrs. Barker in Exilius (1715) 
timidly hopes that the peruser may "gain some gleanings of history." 
But one might heap up quotations of this kind. The effect upon structure 
is best seen in these lines from the Euphues and his England, pp. 162- 
163: "Gentlemen and gentlewomen, these Lenten evenings be long and a 
shame it were to go to bed; cold they are, therefore folly it were 
to walk abroad; to play at cards is common, at chess tedious, at dice 
unseemly, with Christmas games untimely. In my opinion....! would 
have some pastime that might be pleasant but not unprofitable, rare, 
but not without reasoning." 

52 The most promising contribution, Gerzan's I'Ameriquaine, seems not 
to have been written. In Gomberville's Polexandre, Pt. V., pp. 1375- 
1377, there is a description of the Caribbeans. 



The Expressed Aim of the Long Prose Fiction 431 

fully the events of the past. This means very little in the 
romances; but in such works as Boyle's Theodora and Didy- 
mus (1686) in England and in the efforts of Sandras and 
Mme. d'Aulnoy in France (1686-1705), there is a true attempt 
to visualize earlier centuries. The idea itself had found per- 
haps its first utterance in 1569 in the forgery, which under the 
name of Du Vraict et Parfait Amour passed itself for a trans- 
lation of a Greek novel: "the period, however, and the per- 
sons, of whom it makes mention, agree very well one with the 
other, which would make us judge the narration (seraient 
juger} rather a history than a fiction (fable)." 

Not before 1713, as far as I know, was the Boccaccian 
theory of the arousing of the emotion of the reader again 
elaborated. There are, it is true, hints in various prefaces; 
and in Clelie, Mile, de Scudery worked emotion into her in- 
tricate theories. 53 Moreover, there must be material in some 
of the many imitations of the Portugese Letters (1669 seq.). 
Be this as it may, the preface to the Aventures de M. . . of 
1713, which is attributed to Marivaux in the Bibliotheque du 
Roi of 1750, lays unmistakable emphasis upon the arousing of 
emotion: "The pity which the object excites when present, the 
inquietudes which it causes us, afflict the soul and make vexa- 
tious (facheuses) impressions. It is softened; but it really 
suffers. The emotion is painful (le sentiment est triste) ; 
whereas the simple recital, however frightful it may be, if it 
excites pity, carries into the soul only a compassionate interest 
without grief (douleur). One sighs with those who seem to 
us to sigh ; but as their evils are only feigned, the moved soul 
(I'ame emue) gets a pleasure out of its sensibility, in pro- 
tecting itself through reason from veritable sadness, which 
ought to occupy it only at the real presence (realite) of mis- 
fortunes. ' ' 

We have done, now, with the last of the aims of prose fic- 
tion as these found expression from 1579-1740; let us cast at 
our analysis of them a bird's-eye glance. The aim of amuse- 
ment, we observe, is much less voiced that that of edification; 
yet, as we draw nearer to the great writers of the mid-18th 

M Space forbids analysis here. The matter will be treated in extenso 
in my forthcoming book. 



432 Tieje 

century, we note here and there the stirring of recalcitrants 
who follow the banner of "delight" and "volupte." Aside 
from amusement, there are visible many serious aims. There 
appears an occasional volume motivated by desire for definite 
social reforms; upon the standards of a shoal of voyages 
imaginaires is inscribed ' ' return to nature ' ' ; idealizing and 
controversial fictions of religious bent are not uncommon. 
More powerful by far than all these minor aims is the great 
"moral" purpose: for in its service are bandied arguments 
pro and con upon the use of the "horrible example"; through 
its influence are exploited characters who represent a single 
unalterable virtue and characters who evolve to higher planes 
or sink to lower ones ; under its pressure is born a heated dis- 
cussion concerning purity of scene and of phrase. Nor do the 
aims of amusement and edification fill the entire field before 
us. ' ' Instruction ' ' is finding a potent auxiliary in fiction ; by 
the latter 's allurements men are being won to listen to phil- 
osophy, history, economics, geography, physical science, crit- 
icism, and even fashion. The "depiction of life" has many 
adherents, all engaged in speculation as to what life "is," 
both now and in the past, both within and without the human 
microcosmos. Even such an apparently aesthetic and modern 
aim as the mere "arousing of emotion" is present in a remote 
corner of the plain. More significant, however, than any 
championing of this or that aim of fiction is the result of the 
theorizing upon narrative substance and form. The wish for 
variety of material and the intention of presenting character 
in order to satirize it both make strongly for incoherence of 
form; so does the insertion of moral and informational com- 
ment within a given narrative. On the other hand, the em- 
ployment of an autobiographical method of relation by authors 
who seek to be believed, the reproduction of the life-story of a 
rising or falling hero, and the dislike of many of the romancers 
for matter not directly narrative, work to preserve unity. 
Quite apart from the problem of structure, the desire to de- 
pict the world as it is, is breaking a path for later realists ; and 
the struggle for purity is pointing the way to the genuinely 
psychological novel and the decent but virile novel of manners. 
University of Illinois. ARTHUR J. TIEJE. 



Peter Hausted's The Eivall Friends 433 



Peter Hausted was the author of one play in English, The 
Eivall Friends, one play in Latin, Senile Odium, and a number 
of miscellaneous works (translations, pamphlets, sermons, 
elegies), none of which has been reprinted in modern times. 
Of these, naturally, the most interesting to the student of 
literature is the play in English, The Eivall Friends. This 
hardly deserves the honor of reprinting ; yet some information 
about its plot and its unfortunate history may be welcome to 
students of the drama. 

The play most intimately concerns Thomas Randolph. Per- 
haps also it indirectly concerns Milton, for the striking events 
to be narrated took place during the last year of his residence 
at Cambridge. In the preceding year (1632) Hausted 1 had 
won some fame in the successful production of his Latin play, 
Senile Odium, heralded on its appearance in print by a long 
commendatory poem from the hand of Edward King. Since 
Hausted was highly regarded at the university as a poet, we 
may suspect that he, like King, was numbered among Milton 's 
acquaintances. Furthermore, since The Eivall Friends is in 
the main a bitter attack on simoniacal practices in the church, 
it is interesting to recall Milton 's later attack in Lycidas. 

In the Lent Term of 1631-2 the King and Queen, after a 
considerable delay, came to visit the University. 2 To entertain 
the royal guests two comedies had been prepared, one by Peter 
Hausted, of Queens' College, the other by Thomas Randolph, 
of Trinity. Immediately the question arose, which play 
should be given precedence? The contention seems to have 
involved not only the Heads, but also the students of both 
colleges, and to have created two factions in the university. 
At last the Vice-Chancellor, Dr. Butts, interfered, and on 

1 Who in 1622-3 acted in Fucus Histriomastix (see the edition by G. C. 
Moore Smith, p. x). 

2 See David Masson, The Life of John Milton (ed. 1881, 251 ff.). 
For the life of Hausted see the Dictionary of National Biography. To 
both of these works I am greatly indebted. 



434 Adams 

his own authority decided that Hausted's play should be 
given priority. 

Under such unfavorable conditions The Eivall Friends was 
presented before their majesties on March 19, by the students 
of Queens' College. Hausted himself took part in the acting, 
assuming two roles, one of them that of Anteros, the leading 
character. But the play was stupid, involved, and inexcus- 
ably long. As a result it was unmistakably and hopelessly 
damned. The title-page speaks clearly on this point : ' ' Cryed 
downe by Boyes, Faction, Envie, and confident ignorance"; 
and the Preface complains of " black-mouth 'd Calumny," 
"base aspersions and unchristianlike slanders," "emptie 
Noddles," and " many-mouth 'd Detraction." 

This failure was rendered all the more painful by the fact 
that Randolph's play, The Jealous Lovers, which followed, 
proved to be a brilliant success. In his epistle To the Reader, 
the author complacently says : " Be to me as kind as my audi- 
ence ' ' ; and a number of persons who prefixed commendatory 
verses testify to the great favor with which the play was re- 
ceived. For example James Duport says : 

Thou had'st th' applause of all : King, 

Queen, and Court, 
And University, all liked thy sport. 

The affair, however, did not end here. Twelve days later, 
on Easter morning, the Vice-Chancellor of the university was 
discovered in his room hanging from a beam over the door. 
He had committed suicide "wilfully with the weight of his 
body strangled himself, his knees almost touching the floor." 
Masson has shown that the failure of Hausted's play was, in 
some measure, the cause of this tragic event. He quotes from 
a letter 3 (in the State Paper Office) endorsed Relation of the 
manner of the death of Dr. Butts : l ' But his vexation began 
when the King's coming approached and Dr. Comber and he 
fell foul of each other about the precedency of Queens' and 
Trinity comedy, he engaging himself for the former. But 
the killing blow was a dislike of that comedy and a check of 
the Chancellor [Lord Holland], who is said to have told 

Op. cit. p. 255. 



Peter Hausted's The Rivall Friends 435 

him that the King and himself had more confidence in his 
discretion than they found cause, in that he found such a 
comedy fitting, &c." 

In 1632 Hausted printed the play, 4 hoping, doubtless, to 
raise himself in the estimation of his fellows, and also, per- 
haps, to quiet the rumors which the suicide of the Vice-Chan- 
cellor had given rise to. Perhaps these rumors were in 
Hausted 's mind when he wrote of ' ' unchristianlike slanders, ' ' 
which "like a generall infection haue spread themselves 
throughout the Kingdome. ' ' The title-page reads : 

The / Rivall / Friends. / A Comoedie, / As it was Acted 
before the King and / Queens Maiesties, when out of their 
prince- / ly favour they were pleased to visite their / Vni- 
versitie of Cambridge, upon the 19. / day of March, 1631. / 
Cryed downe by Boyes, Faction, Envie, / and confident Ig- 
norance, approv'd by the / judicious, and now exposed to 
the pub- / lique censure, by / The Authour, Pet. Havsted Mr. 
in / Artes of Queenes Colledge. / Non tanti est ut placeam 
insanire. / [small ornament] / London, / Printed by Aug. 
Matthewes for Humphrey Robinson, / at the signe of the 
three Pidgeons in Pauls / Church-yard. 1632. 5 

The dedication is sarcastic in the extreme : 

"To the right Honourable, right Reverend, right Worship- 
full, or whatsoever he be or shall bee whom I hereafter may 
call Patron'' a poem of fifty-four pentameter lines, rhym- 
ing in couplets. The following lines are characteristic : 
'Twas made to please, and had the vicious Age 
Beene good enough, it had not left the Stage 
Without it's due Applause. 

Not content with this, Hausted added a long Preface, in 
which he attempted to defend himself against his enemies. 

*The entry in the Stationers' Registers (Arber, iv. 279) is as follows: 
13 Junii 1632. Master Robinson: Entred for his Copy vnder the 

handes of Sir Henry Herbert and master Islip warden a Comedy called 

The Rivall ffriendes. by Peter Hausten. . . vid. 

5 4to; A-O in fours; no pagination. I have described the play from a 

copy in my own possession. 



436 Adams 

In the following quotation I have gathered what I take to be 
the best part of this interesting Preface : 

' ' Yet at the length I haue obtained leaue for this poore neg- 
lected Piece of mine to salute the Light, & in spight of all 
black-mouth 'd Calumny (who ha's endeavor 'd to crush it into 
nothing) presented it to the open view. I am not ignorant 
what base aspersions, & unchristianlike slanders (like a gen- 
erall infection) haue spread themselues throughout the King- 
dome, nor can I hope that the publishing of it can stop all 
those wide mouthes which are opened against it; yet I must 
not despaire of so much justice from the Candide, (for their 
owne honestie is interested in the Action) as (when they shall 
behold the innocence of it) to confesse, that I suffer most un- 
justly in these reports. How it was accepted of their Majes- 
ties, whom it was intended to please, we know, and had grac- 
ious signes : 6 how the rest of the Court were affected, wee 
know too; Such as were faire and intelligent will yet giue it 
sufficient Testimonie: As for those which came with starch 'd 
faces and resolutions to dislike whatsoever they saw or heard, 
(all due reverence being given to the faire fields they weare 
upon their backes) they must perforce giue mee leaue to be 
of that haeresie, and thinke that there is something else re- 
quired to the composition of a Judgement, then a good Suite 
of taken-up Clothes, a Countenance set in a frame, and some 
three shakes of the emptie Noddle. 

" It is the misery of Poetry aboue other sciences, & in Poetry 
of the Dramme especially, that it lies open to be prof an' d by 
every adulterate judgement. The Musician dares onely judge 
of Musicke, the Philosopher in naturall causes, the Mathe- 
matician of those Arts: But what fly-blowne piece of Man 
is there, whose best of vertues is to cry God dam him, whose 
top of knowledge the Alphabeticall and Greeke healths but 
thinks himself a Doctor of the Chaire in what belongs to the 
Scene ? . . . Next, whereas my discretion was call'd in 
question for making one to raile so bitterly upon Women be- 
fore the Ladies who we should haue labour 'd to please rather. 
I answer ... As for that which they object against 
bringing in of the foure Guls in the third Act, as impertinent 

' But compare the letter in the State Paper Office, quoted above. 



Peter Hausted' s The Rivall Friends 437 

to the Plot; I answer ... As for the false and abomi- 
nable imputations laid upon it by my Tribe with the short 
haire and long eares, my formall outsides, that looke demure, 
and snuffle, I ... Reader, not to tire thee with a Preface, 
thou hast it verbatim, and punctually as it was acted. I con- 
fesse, I would willingly haue altred some things which upon 
more mature deliberation I haue found to be subject to mis- 
constructions, but that I knew the malice of some would upon 
that take advantage, to make the world beleeue, that that 
which hath, or shall be spoken against it, is true. ' ' 

But Hausted was unfortunate both in his title-page and in 
his Preface, for these seem to have provoked much unfavor- 
able comment. I have here brought together all the contem- 
porary references to the play that I have been able to dis- 
cover. 

1. The first is from Huth's Inedited Poetical Miscellanies: 

In Defence of those Scholars whom Mr. Hausted calumniates 
in the Frontispiece of his Rival Friends. 

Have at you, sir, since you will needs oppose 

All witty men ; amongst your other foes 

Know I am one : there is no way for me 

Not to seem foolish but to gainsay thee. 

Have at you, take heed, and though of so many 

Whom you call boys, I am more boy than any, 

Yet count me full thy match. For why ? Thyself 

Art but an aged infant, a grave elf. 

monstrous spleen ! what ! didst thou mean to wrong 

The glories of the understanding throng? 

What ! didst thou mean against those gowns to strike 

Which so vouchsafed to grace thee with dislike? 

Was it not to thee praise enough that they 

Deign 'd for to be spectators of thy play? 

In troth it was, and their discommendation 

Did thee more good than others' approbation. 

What were those fellows that did thee applaud ? 

Tinkers and cobblers. egregious laud ! 

Thou liest if thou sayest any of the court 

Had so small sense as to endure thy sport: 



438 Adams 

And if thou sayest that either king or queen 
Condemn 'd thee not for that which they had seen, 
Thou art an arrant traitor : what is it 
But to say that our island's head wants wit? 
Come, come, confess the truth ! confess, and we 
Perchance may once be brought to pity thee. 
Hast thou not done thy college more dishonour 
Than almost can be heal 'd ? Hast thou not done her 
More injury than thou didst almost those 
Which justly did deride thy childish shows? 
Ye gentlemen of Queen's, for your own sake, 
If not for ours, thrust out this ass, and make 
His name a by- word : wherefore should drones live 
Amongst bees to discredit the whole hive? 
Thrust out this ass, and whensoe'er hereafter 
You lack an object to occasion laughter, 
Let Hausted enter; Hausted's natural parts 
Are better than all Archie's studied arts. 
Sirrah, these worthy persons whom you scoff 
(Maugre your printing), have long since blown off 
The dust of those thy sandals, and their lives 
Will last far longer than thy book survives. 
May they still prosper, and I then am sure 
There is no cause but I may be secure : 
For if I write well, these few lines of mine 
Shall vanquish, blot out, and defame all thine : 
If I write ill, yet wilt thou pardon me, 
And take my part, because I write like thee. 
2. James Duport, in his commendatory verses before 
Randolph's The Jealous Lovers (ed. Hazlitt, p. 65) : 
No fretting frontispiece, nor biting satire 
Needs usher 't forth : born tooth 'd ? fie ! 'tis 

'gainst nature. 

Thou hast th ' applause of all : king, queen, and court, 
And University, all lik'd thy sport. 
No blunt preamble in a cynic humour 
Needs quarrel at dislike, and (spite of rumour) 
Force a more candid censure, and extort 
An approbation, maugre all the Court. 



Peter Hausted's The Rivall Friends 439 

Such rude and snarling prefaces suit not thee ; 
They are superfluous: for thy comedy, 
Back't with its own worth and the author's name, 
Will find sufficient welcome, credit, fame. 

3. When Randolph revised The Jealous Lovers for publica- 
tion, he seems to have inserted a reference to Hausted. In a 
scene (strongly reminiscent of the grave-digging scene in 
Hamlet) the sexton, picking up a skull, satirizes, I believe, 
the unfortunate author of The Rivall Friends. "This was 
a poetical noddle. 0, the sweet lines, choice language, elo- 
quent figures, besides the jests, half-jests, quarter- jests, and 
quibbles that have come out o' these chaps that yawn so! 
[This is a good description of The Rivall Friends] . . . 
He has been my tenant these seven years, and in all that 
while I never heard him rail against the times, or complain 
of the neglect of learning. [A reference to Hausted's Pref- 
ace?] . . . And now a play of his may be freely cen- 
sured without a libel on the audience. The boys may be 
bold to cry it down." Cf. Hausted's title-page: "Cryde 
downe by Boyes," etc. 7 Possibly the next remark, also, 
was a hit at The Rivall Friends. Phryne asks: "Pray, sir, 
how does Death Deal with the ladies? Is he so unmannerly 
As not to make distinction of degrees?" Hausted had felt 
it necessary to defend his play on this point : ' ' Next, whereas 
my discretion was call'd in question for making one to raile 
so bitterly upon Women before the Ladies." 

4. Randolph again comments on the play in his Oratio 
Praevaricatoria (ed. Hazlitt, pp. 679-80) : 

Ilia res Comica, quae primo ante Regem acta est, amicos 
habuit, sed sine Rivalibus. Fuit optima Comredia a priori, 
sed olet a posteriori. Nunc impressa est. Miror ego ejus 
hominis stomachum, qui talem librum edere potuit. Ego in 
illius laudes sic cecini. 

Jam sileat Jack Drum; taceat miracula Tom Thumb; 
Nee se gigantem jactel Gargantua tantum ; 
Nee ferat insanus sua praelia Tamberlanus, 
Nee Palmerinus, nee strenuus Albovinus. 

1 Hazlitt calls attention to this. 



440 Adams 

Se quondam ratus sapientem Tom Coriatus, 
Et Don Quichotte dicit, sum nunc idiota ! 
Nunc metuit dia divortia Technogamia: 
Insignis Pericles non audet tarn celebres res. 
Impiger Orlando jam non est tarn furioso; 
Non te, Jeronyme, cogemus surgere lecto. 
Nemo dicat jam prudentes pascere Gotham 
Namqu'est doctorum comoedia scripta virorum. 
Quse superat cunetas (tanta est fiducial) laudes 
Et jam securum petit post praelia prelum 
Ignavum f ucus pecus est, petit illieo lucos ; 
Et factus blancum non saltat prinkum prankum. 
Dicunt hoc puerile Odium vicisse Senile, 
Hie est sensus non, et possis ludere checkstone. 
The concluding phrase refers to one of the most ludicrous 
scenes in The Rivall Friends (V. vi; cf. also II. i.), in which 
Ursely invites Anteros to play this childish game. That the 
scene caused merriment we may infer from Hausted's Pref- 
ace: "and if that was my errour, that the two Changelings 
spoke no strong lines, but plaid at Chackstones" '. . . 

The play, as I have said, hardly deserves reprinting. A 
rather full description will satisfy, I believe, all the demands 
of the student of the drama. 

Prefixed to the play are three commendatory poems. (1) 
"Amicissimo suo Petro Havsted invitatio ut Comcediam suam 
Prelo committat," forty-five lines in Latin, signed "Ed. 
Kemp." This person was a member of Queens' College, and 
contributed a commendatory poem to Senile Odium. (2) "To 
the Authour, ' ' twelve lines in English, unsigned, but probably 
by the writer of the following poem. (3) "To the same vpon 
the Arraignement of his Comcedie," twelve lines in English, 
signed "I. R." This was doubtless "J. Rogers, Reginal," 
who, along with Kemp, contributed a commendatory poem to 
Senile Odium. 

The Introduction extends over two pages, and has some 
lyrical excellence. "Being a Dialogue betwixt Venus, Thetis, 
and Phoebus, sung by two Trebles, and a Base. Venus (being 
Phosphorus as well as Vesper) appearing at a window aboue 
as risen, calling to Sol, who lay in Thetis lap at the East side 



Peter Hausted's The Rivall Friends 441 

of the stage, canoped with an azure curtaine : at the first word 
that Venus sung, the curtain was drawne, and they dis- 
covered." Venus and Thetis alternately woo Phoebus, who 
finally arises. But spying the King and Queen, he exclaims : 

But what new spectacle of wonder's this? 

And haue I lost my wonted Majestie f 

Thus the Introduction turns into a handsome compliment to 
the royal visitors. 

After the Introduction, a "Boy" (i. e., a student) comes 
upon the stage shouting "Ha, ha, he, here be fine feats. . . 
In faith Gentlemen I pity ye, y'are like to haue a goodly 
Comcedy here, Plautus his captiues translated, or some such 
thing I warrant ye. . . But Gods me ! what haue I forgot ? 
I should haue had mine eares stretch M for it if I hal miss'd 
it, Yee must suppose the Scene too be here in England at a 
country village. . . But to my charge whom I left at the 
doore, til I had discover 'd whether the coast were cleare. . . 
But heere comes the Prologue." 

The Prologue was inspired by the ' ' occasion of their Maies- 
ties comming being deferr'd." 

Most sacred Majesties, if yee doe wonder 

To be saluted by an aged Prologue 

Know. . . 

This form sems to have been suggested by the Prologue to 
Jonson's Poetaster: 

If any muse why I salute the stage 

An armed Prologue, know. . . 

The idea, however, goes back to Terence's Heautontimorumenos. 
I give below the dramatis persona, which in the original 
edition is printed on the reverse of the title-page. A copy of 
the play in the British Museum (644 b. 45) has the names of 
the actors inserted in a contemporary hand. These I have 
included here in brackets. 

Dramatis Persona 

[Mr. Brian] Sacriledge Hooke, a Simoniacall Patrone. 

[Mannering] Pandora, his faire Daughter. 
[Eamsbotom] Mistris Vrsely, his supposed Daughter, de- 
formed and foolish. 



442 



Adams 



[St. Rogers] 

[Lin] 

[Mr. Kempe] 

[Mr. Stanninow] 

[Sr. Hills] 
[Mr. Hausted] 

[Sr. Cantrel] 
[Mr. Cotterel] 
[Freer] 

[Mr. Rogers] 
[Piereen] 
[Tiffin] 
[Mr. Harflet] 
[Mr. Hards] 

[Sr. Woodhouse] 
[Hausted] 
[Kidtre] 
[Richardson] 

[Hausted] 8 
[St. Curlile] 

[Hills] 8 
[Stoke] 



Jacke Loueall, a Court Page, Nephew to Mr. 

Hooke. 
Constantino,, lack Loueall's sister. 

Lucius. | the two Friends, and Riv- 

Neander, or Cleopes^ alls in Pandora's loue. 

Luscinio, Lucius his Boy. 

Bully Liuely, an old merry fellow, that Hues 

in the impropriate Parsonage. 

Terpander, an old Gentleman. 

Anteros, his sonne, a humerous mad fellow, 

that could not endure women. 
Laurentio, an ancient Citizen. 
Endymion, his sonne, and Page to Lucius. 
Isabella, Laurentio's Daughter, in loue with 

Lucius. 

Stipes, Hooke 's Sheepheard. 
Placenta, his Wife, a Midwife. 
Merda, their Daughter. 
Nodle Emptie, an Innes of the Court man. 
William Wiseacres, a quondam Atturneys 

Clarke. 

Mr. Mungrell, an elder brother. 
Hammershin, a Batchelour of Arts. 
Zealous Knowlittle, a Box-maker 
Tempest All-mouth, a decaied 

Clothworker 

Arthur Aremstrog ) 2yongschol- 
-lers, robustious 



ry * . i 11 ~f f 1C* O% I \JW Uo LHJ Ho 

Stutchell Legg- j footbal . players . 

Gammed Fillpot, a pretender to 
a Scholler, who had once bin a 
Gentleman's Butler. 

Hugo Obligation, a precise Scriv- 
ener. 

Two men, two Maydes of Liuelyes 

A Bedlam. 

Fidlers. 

8 In the British Museum copy "Hausted" was written before "Arthur 
Armestrong," and "Hills" before "Ganimed Fillpot," but each name was 
later crossed through. 



Suiters 
to Mistris 
Vrsely for 
the 

Parsonage 
sake. 



Peter Hausted's The Eivall Friends 443 

The play is exceptionally long, and its plot highly compli- 
cated. Indeed there are five separate plots, so entangled as 
almost to baffle the reader. For the sake of clearness I will 
sketch these several plots independently, without attempting 
to show how they were linked to one another. 

1. THE RIVAL FRIENDS PLOT (THE MAIN PLOT) 

Two friends, Neander and Lucius, love Constantina and 
Isabella respectively. But meeting Pandora, they fall des- 
perately in love with her, and desert their former mistresses. 
Pandora loves both men so deeply that she is unable to deter- 
mine which one she will marry. Thereupon each of the ' ' rival 
friends" strives to sacrifice himself for the happiness of the 
other; each treats Pandora with cruel harshness, denies that 
he loves her (at the same time revealing to the audience in 
asides great mental anguish), and urges her to accept his 
friend. Meanwhile the rejected Isabella appears in the char- 
acter of a boy who has run away from the London players. 
Constantina, desiring to disguise herself as a boy, engages 
the supposed runaway actor to dress in her clothes, occupy 
her room, and thus cover her escape. The two friends now 
appeal to the village parson, Lively, for assistance. Each 
seeks earnestly for the other's marriage to the fair Pandora. 
Lively, however, favors Lucius, and secures the consent of 
Neander to a feigned marriage with some boy disguised as a 
woman, so that Lucius, deceived by the trick, may feel free to 
marry Pandora. Lively soon after happens upon the dis- 
guised Constantina, discovers her identity, and then lays a 
deeper plot. He dresses her as a young woman, conceals her 
face with a veil, and marries her securely to her beloved (but 
unsuspecting) Neander. Lucius, having overheard the orig- 
inal plot, stoutly refuses to believe the parson's statement 
that his friend has really married a woman; and not to be 
outdone in friendship, declares himself to be a eunuch, and 
hence unable to marry. Thus the interference of Lively mere- 
ly serves to complicate affairs. Pandora, in despair of enjoy- 
ing either lover, appeals to the midwife, Placenta. The latter 
advises her to feign a love to some other young man in the 
hope of bringing matters to a quick conclusion. For this pur- 



444 Adams 

pose they select the page Endymion. Pandora makes love to 
him in a very free manner, while Placenta calls the rival 
friends to be witnesses. In the end, Pandora finds that she 
loves Endymion in reality, and has ceased to care for Neander 
and Lucius. The latter, too, find that they no longer love 
Pandora. When Neander discovers his marriage to Con- 
stantina, he is greatly pleased; and Lucius, after begging 
the pardon of Isabella, is accepted by her. The father of 
Endymion appears, and approves of the match between his 
son and Pandora. Thus the plot closes with the happy mar- 
riage of all the lovers concerned. 

2. THE HOOKE-PARSONAGE PLOT 

Sacriledge Hooke has a daughter, Ursely, who is both de- 
formed and idiotic. In order to marry her off, he advertises 
as a dowry the parsonage now occupied by the aged Lively. 
Immediately, numerous suitors flock to the house of Sacri- 
ledge, and quarrel for the chance of getting the parsonage, 
even at the price of the deformed Ursely. The scenes are 
designed merely to satirize simoniacal practices and, to a less 
extent, Puritanism. 

3. THE ANTEROS-URSELY PLOT 

Anteros is a woman-hater of the most violent type. For 
him Hooke 's deformed and simple daughter, Ursely, conceives 
a strong passion, and declares that she will die unless she can 
have him for a husband. Hooke plans to force the marriage 
upon Anteros by threatening to foreclose certain heavy mort- 
gages upon the estate of his old father, Terpander. This plan 
proves to be so successful that Anteros is compelled to give 
his consent to the marriage; not, however, until he has torn 
up all the bonds of his father 's indebtedness, and has received 
the parsonage from Hooke as a free gift. Having been granted 
a few hours delay of the marriage, he is on the point of flee- 
ing to the Continent, when his good friend Loveall enters and 
reveals the fact (just discovered) that Ursely is not Hooke 's 
daughter, but a changeling, and in reality the sister of An- 
teros. Anteros is happy both at having escaped matrimony, 
and at having overreached the crafty Hooke. 



Peter Hausted's The Rivall Friends 445 

4. THE ANTEROS-LOVEALL PLOT 

Anteros and Loveall have each a brace of humorous gulls 
whom they desire to pit against one another. They arrange 
a meeting in which they match the four gulls in a " contest of 
singularity." (The scenes are closely imitated from Jon- 
son's Every Man In His Humour II. i. and III. i.) In the 
end, by thoroughly frightening the gulls, they manage to shut 
them up, one pair in dog-kennels, the other pair in a "con- 
nie chest" and a "hogstie." Here the gulls are left until 
the end of the play. (This is imitated from The Silent 
Woman 9 IV. ii.) 

5. THE ANTEROS-STIPES PLOT 

Stipes is a coarse shepherd in the employ of Hooke. Like 
Hooke, he has a simple daughter, Merda. Anteros, in order to 
escape from the machinations of Hooke and Ursely, disguises 
himself as a laborer and hires himself to Stipes. Merda at 
once falls in love with him. Stipes, suspecting that Anteros 
has played false with Merda, ties him to a tree and goes into 
the house for a staff. Loveall comes in, recognizes his friend 
and releases him. Anteros quickly throws off his laborer's dis- 
guise, and, now arrayed in fine clothes, has himself retied to 
the tree. Stipes is astonished at the sudden transformation 
of his servant into a gentleman, but Anteros easily persuades 
him that the transformation was the result of having been 
tied to the tree. Thereupon Stipes and Merda request Anteros 
to tie them to the same tree. Anteros throws over their heads 
a cloak, and brings in a Tom-a-Bedlam who sings and dances. 
Stipes and Merda take the bedlam for Oberon, king of fair- 
ies. The shepherd and his daughter are then left tied to the 
tree until the end of the play. 

In the Epilogue the woman-hater Anteros advances; but 
at the sight of the Queen, his character is changed : 

Most Sacred Goddesse 

Behold a Penitent, that falls thus lowe 

Before your feete : as you have showne your selfe 

More then a Mortall, in converting me. . . 

The indebtedness to The Silent Woman was pointed out by Halli- 
well, Dictionary of Old Plays. 



446 Adams 

This seems to be in imitation of Jonson's Epilogue to Every 
Man Out of His Humour, in which Malicente is converted by 
the presence of Queen Elizabeth : 

Yet humble as the earth, do I implore [Kneels. 
heaven that she, whose presence hath effected 
This change in me. . . 

Other works known to be by Hausted are catalogued below : 

1. Senile / Odium. / Comoedia / Cantabrigiae / publice 
Academicis recitata / in Collegio Reginali / ab ejusdem Col- 
legii / juventute. / Autore P. Hausted. / Lusimus innocui. / 
[Ornament.] / Cantabrigiae: / Ex Academiae celeberrimae / 
typographeo, 1633. [8vo; fl (four pages), A-F in eights, 
G-G 4 ; pp. viii + 102.] 10 

The most notable thing about this play is the prefatory poem 
by Edward King, conspicuously printed in large Italic type 
at the beginning. The fact that the other two commendatory 
poems (by Hausted 's very good friends who the year before 
stood by him in his distress) are printed after King's poem, 
and in smaller type, seems to bear testimony to the high es- 
teem in which King was held at the university. I have in- 
cluded this poem in order that the reader may judge of King's 
poetic vein, who "knew Himself to sing, and build the lofty 
rhyme." He is not known to have written any poems in 
English. 

INGENIOSISSIMO VIRO, P. HAUSTED, IN FESTIVISSIMAM 

EjUS COMOEDIAM 

i-.- . 

Heus! acue dentes, Invidia; mensae (en!) tibi 
Adsunt secundae ; grata perpol advenis : 
Concoquere male te prandium f erunt tuum ; 
Generosus hospes hanc tibi caenam dedit, 
Et molliores, avida quas vores, dapes; 
Nisi usque carnes putidas rodere juvet, 
Atramque saniem, & viperarum viscera. 
Jam prodit ilia, quam cupis, Comoedia, 
Odium Senile, candidi, theatri amor, 
Ipsaque theatrum amoris, & scena Venerum. 

10 Described from a copy in my possession. 



Peter Hausted's The Rivall Friends 447 

Ridere quae vel cogat Heraclitos graves, 
Democritosque prodigos splenis nimis, 
(Jocosa fata, blanda mors!) risu enecet. 
Non hie cothurni sanguine insonti rubent, 
Nee flagra Megaerse ferrea horrendum intonant, 
Noverca nulla saevior Erebo furit, 
Venena nulla, praeter ilia dulcia 
Amoris; atque his vim abstulere noxiam 
Casti lepores, innoeua festivitas, 
Nativa suavitas, proba elegantia, 
Venerisque nectar aureum lubentiae, 
Intusque regnans multiplex ars, quae vafre 
Gratis legentem conscium fallit dolis, 
Vorisque ludos tecta Maaandris facit. 
Alii sonoris fulminent Tragaediis; 
Autor Thaliam Comicam exornat meus, 
Teneroque socco placidus Orchestram quatit; 
Flammas amantum, & vulnera juven